PREVIOUSLY ON MASTERCHEF AUSTRALIA: A fiery 2015 season saw Billie McKay emerge from the pile, bloody, bruised, and victorious. The villagers celebrated the emergence of their new god, and the arrival of a summer that was bountiful and prosperous.
But now, a new ruler of the land must be crowned. And our search turns to a batch of 50 new hopefuls, all vying to be the one to lift the glorious Silver Prop Plate and receive the life-giving extended interview segment on The Project, as the prophecy foretells.
It’s MASTERCHEF AUSTRALIA. And it is BACK, Y’ALL.
After keeping production details firmly under wraps throughout the course of filming, and featuring promo material that’s given away absolutely no clues, last night’s debut episode of MasterChef season eight begins with a montage that SPOILS THE ENTIRE FUCKING EPISODE.
It even spoils a little bit of episode two.
It’s a 2-minute segment featuring shots of people who have very clearly made the Top 24, which is then followed by the opening titles and the supposed “drama” of Top 50 auditions. How the living hell are we supposed to buy any tension when we’ve already seen them in success mode? People have actual functioning memories, Channel Ten. We are not goldfish.
Regardless, the episode proper opens with the gaggle of culinary hopefuls gathered in a hella fancy-looking fruit and veg warehouse which must be where rich and beautiful people like Madonna get their loose baby spinach from.
The triumphant arrival of the three hungry, hungry judges triggers rapturous applause and screaming from the braying masses, and George proudly unveils the first running theme for the day: Wholly undramatic apron reveals.
“OH MAN THA-oh, that’s literally it.”
The trio reveal that all formalities are being thrown out the window, and if you cook good, you’re in the Top 24.
This is music to the ears of Cecilia Vuong, who is returning to the competition after making the Top 24 back in 2014, but had to withdraw due to her on-going recovery from a brain injury suffered in a skiing accident.
With her adorable little family in tow, her son – who is arguably a better host than anyone currently employed by Network Ten and is sporting a Hall of Fame candidate rat’s tail – gets to do the honours after she smacks the first cook out of the park.
See what I mean by a better host? Even he found a way to make that standard apron reveal ever-so-slightly-spicier. That’s instinct. You cannot teach that.
‘Course George, in a stunning power move, throws a little shade at the kid on his way out just to remind him who’s boss.
If you come at the King, you best not miss.
Now, when news first dropped that MasterChef would be returning, I jokingly posed this question:
As it turns out the answer to that one was “about 19 minutes,” because here comes Matt the coffee roaster (“I’m not saying this latte is milky, but if it were any whiter it’d have its own Tidal subscription!“) to attempt the impossible and qualify for the Top 24 on the infamous MasterChef death dish.
The judges are suitably unimpressed by the concept, and we get our first, glorious look at George‘s risotto face for 2016.
*sigh* It’s good to see you again, old friend.
Fortunately enough though, the rice is nice, and Matt the coffee roaster (“I always said I liked my coffee like I like my men: cold, bitter, and out of my system quickly!“) is also in.
The second running theme of the episode is montages, and hooo boy do we ever get a heap of them. They’re all filled with people without the requisite heart-string pulling sob-story to fill this episode’s emotional quota, so we get literally no identifying information about them other than my expert knee-jerk reactions.
In MONTAGE OF SUCCESS 1 we get Sparky…
…followed by Bagger Vance…
…Brunswick Street and her associated crew who gave up a weekly reservation on the Naked For Satan rooftop to be here…
…and Where The Water Buffalo Roam.
All four are swiftly apron’d up.
In fact, up until this point in the episode it’s been naught but glorious success, which means a horrendous failure is clearly inevitable. And sure enough, in walks someone who sees “60 minute cooking challenge” and thinks “FUCK YEAH CROQUEMBOUCHE.”
Why.
Why, why, why, why, why, why, why.
Why even in a “mini” version. Why.
Why would you do this to yourself. You cannot fault the ambition or the ballsyness whatsoever. Attempting that dish on day dot is admirable as hell. But unfortunately “being an absolute psycho” isn’t one of the key contestant selection criteria.
And, oh boy…
I’m loathe to use the word, but I honestly can’t think of any other. Those profiteroles look straight-up cummy.
And with the first denial of the day, the floodgates open and we get our MONTAGE OF FAILURE. A real doozy, at that.
Who could forget such classic clangers as the Accidental Cinnamon Challenge!
Or Unnamed Female Contestant #21 who simply admitted that “things went wrong.”
(They sure did.)
Or this gentleman, whose plate of exceedingly plain macarons admittedly nailed the brief of “put yourself on the plate.”
It’s like I’m seeing double, I swear.
And it’s at this exhausting point, barely halfway into the first episode, that we get inarguably the greatest character that will grace the screen all season: the World’s Thirstiest Nonna.
Other people’s Nonna’s are universally excellent, this is a proven fact of science. But this one may well have been the greatest of them all. Why? Because she was keen for a judge hug, and she got that shit. She snapped it up.
HELL YEAH. GET IN THERE, NONNA. YOU GO GET IT.
YOU. GO. GET. IT.
Honestly, why Australian TV hasn’t yet made an entire reality series of other people’s Nonnas just getting about and being totally rad is absolutely beyond me.
Also, the maximum Nonna content in this segment successfully managed to mask the dry taste in the mouth caused by Matt Preston describing the “wobble” or a panacotta as “sexy.”
It’s a long season though, Matt. You won’t have adorable grandmothers to hide behind all the time. That shit won’t fly.
Which brings us to MONTAGE OF SUCCESS 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.
At this point the lack-of-identity thing is getting ridiculous.
There’s… uh… Vodka Kingfish. And her m8 Beardo. Who’s chumming up with Rad Dad and Surf N Turf and for fuck’s sake was putting their bloody names up on screen for a couple of seconds each SERIOUSLY THAT MUCH OF A TASK?
But then we have this legend. This champion of champions. This man of mans.
RANGER MILES. An absolute monster of a bloke who lives in a fucken servo. Why do they call ’em rangers, you ask?
“Because we do a range’a stuff.“
HE’S DROPPING GOLD LIKE THAT IN EPISODE ONE? That joke alone is worth an apron.
Miles takes a crack at cooking pork belly, the ability to do so is normally unlocked upon retirement, and he’s brought his kids in to watch on. His son just so happens to be an apprentice chef, which is the most amazing case of the boy finally kicking Dad’s arse at a game of one-on-one so Dad spends the next few months making a show of being better at other shit that I’ve ever seen.
As it turns out, cooking a 3 hour dish in a 60 minute time period is a tall order, but the spice is there, so Miles gets thrown onto the “cook again” pile.
Which conveniently brings us to the MONTAGE OF MEDIOCRITY AKA THE SECOND CHANCE SALOON.
Harry With The Good Hair? Yeah, lets give him another go.
Lady trying to pull the ole’ Sugar-Me-Do? Her too.
The absolutely bizarre Rapper that appeared from literally nowhere with no context at all but also brought us this glorious moment of George dropping the dankest of beats?
And person who we know nothing about other than she cooked a souffle and has “gumption“? Chuck ’em all in there too.
They’ll all get a second chance to fight, scrap, and claw over the remaining aprons as those who have already earned theirs place bets and toss food scraps from the stands.
The emotional moment of the night goes to a 19-year-old from Victoria cooking up a lemon dish in honour of her Grandfather who passed away a mere two weeks prior to auditions.
The show refuses to take things into stunningly dark territory by not putting her through. Also the word “lemons” is spoken so many times that halfway around the world Will Sasso‘s uncontrollable vomiting returns.
After suffering through YET ANOTHER MONTAGE JESUS BLOODY HELL, we finally get to the real MVPs of episode one: the hyper-competitive brother/sister duo.
O Brother…
…and Sister Act.
Two people carrying more tickets on themselves than an unsuccessful scalper.
The barely contained passive aggression and sibling rivalry from the pair is MAGNIFICENT. And the fact that they both got through is going to make for astonishingly juicy TV.
This is a pair of people who haven’t lived in the same city as each other for 15 years. So yeah, lets chuck ’em in the same house fighting for one prize together and see how it goes. Just to make it more interesting, why not put a pair of bunk beds in there too and have them cook off to see who gets the top one each night.
They. Are going. To TEAR EACH OTHER APART on national TV. And it will be us, dear friends, who reap all the benefits.
NEXT TIME: George marches out towards the pack of cheering onlookers and punches someone square in the face, just to remind them who the King is.
This is his house, god damn it.
Photos: MasterChef/TenPlay.
