Sur is a revolving door in the First Circle of Hell. No matter the day or time, you’ll enter and find some half-baked goat balls served by the scariest servers you’ve ever seen. It’s a sinister land, ruled by the mistress of evil, Lisa Vanderpump.
Once desolate, the crumbling world of Sur has lived to see another day, somehow. The employees we once loved are living new lives on Love Island, The Valley, and the unemployment line, while a new group of young, fame-hungry psychos has entered the alleyway. A new age of Vanderpump Rules is born.
We’re introduced to Natalie as a protagonist of sorts, a new-age Stassi with just a dash of Kristen. She’s the 26-year-old ex of a 54-year-old employee, Paulo, who had a public meltdown just days before we met her. She’s Italian, and mentions that often. And she wants to be a pop star. Very promising!
Then there’s Marcus, a close friend of Natalie’s, who’s dating Kim, played by Tate McRae in her acting debut. He’s a little bit Schwartz, a lotta bit Sandoval, and just Jax-y enough to be the number one guy in the group.
That’s not too hard when the competition is Shayne (boring), Jason and Chris (cousins who might be incestuous), and Venus (Finneas, in his acting debut, if you ignore all his other credits).
Jason is the newest Surver, walking in with thick eyebrows and a boy-next-door mentality that’s sure to be broken any day now. Sweet boys weren’t made to last in the harsh light of Sur.
He lives with Chris, his half-cousin who he bonded with while wrestling, and who was really fascinated by The White Lotus. Cute! Chris has starred in two reality dating shows, and he does some OnlyFans on the side, but his real dream is to be Flynn Rider in the live-action Tangled. Shoot for the stars, king. Everybody starts somewhere.
The longest-standing member of the team, Demy, walks into every room with viciously millennial energy, although she very well could be 26. She’s the assistant manager of Sur, who also dated Paulo, the off-screen enigma of the premiere. She doesn’t trust Natalie, necessarily, but she does love spending time with her. That’s a recipe for reality TV success.
After all, this one’s tried and true. Vanderpump Rules is no longer the unproven stepchild of the Bravo universe; it’s the only entry with an Emmy nomination, as ridiculous as that seems.
Every new cast member waltzes right in with the knowledge that they have to just serve some watered-down cocktails for a few years in order to make it big. It’s not about laying low. This is the stage to prove you’re America’s Next Stassi Schroeder in the Making. If they play these cards right, they, too, could become polarizing figures in American culture who land a lucrative podcast deal.
Natalie wants to be a singer, just like Ariana Grande, but her best bet is to be Scheana Shay. Audrey wants to be a Scream Queen, and maybe she’ll snag a role in We’re The Millers 2 as “Waitress #4.” Chris has to clear the OnlyFans hurdle before he can become a Disney star. They’re delusional, kind of deranged, and most importantly, too daft to know better. In this ever-curated age, it’s refreshing, even if I’m cynical it can last.
A few years ago, we wondered if the Vanderpump Rules universe was strong enough to survive its own meteoric rise. Lisa Vanderpump had long felt like a blip on the radar, while the final few seasons were spent anywhere but at Sur, that with conversations having to do with nothing but the show itself. The Scandoval that saved the show turned right around to kill it, scattering the best days of our lives throughout the dated-upon-arrival restaurant.
It could’ve—maybe even should’ve—been the death knell, of a Bravo institution, of Lisa Vanderpump’s run, and of her West Hollywood empire. Perhaps most interesting of all in this new age Vanderpump Rules, then, is the immediate admittance that empires do fall, and it’s up to every one of these Survers to save it—not because they care about their job, but to keep the platform alive.
It’s quite clear the stars know the game they’re playing, that Vanderpump Rules can never be the voyeuristic exploration of sociopathy it once was, and the premiere’s promise of fun times, salacious drama, and a commitment to the facade is more than enough to satiate long-time fans.
The best days of our Bravo lives are long over, sure, but second-rate isn’t so bad. death knell
