Is it oxymoronic to be avowedly progressive yet admit that Snowflake Mountain (2022) is funny? I know it’s unacceptable to laugh at fat people wallowing through a bog, but give me a humongous black girl climbing a tree any day of the week.
Moar of that, thanks.
The premise for the show is promisingly thin. This is lowbrow, maybe even monobrow humor, dumping ten “snowflakes” in the wilderness so we can eat Twisties on the couch and snigger at their discomfort.
Put aside for a second that these kidults are in fact glamping and not camping, let alone roughing it — just sit back and enjoy the insectile whine.
Hmmm, nipples.
Unfortunately, the show slows down when all the contestants start demonstrating “growth”. Sheer petulance eliminates a few at the start, but from S01E03 everything feels slightly staged, as if they’re all theatre-arts students giving us their take on entitlement.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all fake.
I’m also not impressed by “ex-military” hosts Joel Graves and Matt Tate, who warm to these human marshmallows way too quick. We need somebody like Ant Middleton to beast them into shape.
Diversity fuck off, this series showcases homo sapiens in decline.
Oops.
In fact, Ant was meant to host the show. For some reason, he didn’t, and instead of a potential Survivor odyssey we’re probably watching the birth and death of a show with genuine promise.
I don’t want to, but I’ll probably Instagram-stalk a few of the more abominable characters to see how they’ve leveraged their fifteen seconds of fame.
Devon, for example, has yet to learn that the world does not revolve around her fat NYC tits. My opinion? Bring on Season 2, set it in the back streets of Hemel Hemptstead, and pay Ant Middleton whatever he wants.