He’s the mother-flipper
If there's any greater bubble than today's overheated real estate market, it's the bubble of shows about buying and then quickly selling houses in today's overheated real estate market. A&E has "Flip This House," Discovery Home has "Flip That House," TLC has "Property Ladder," and now Bravo has put a new listing on the market, "Flipping Out."
Alas, the appeal of watching paint dry wears off quickly, even when tidy profits are involved. Luckily, Bravo understands that while the mantra of real estate may be "location, location, location," the mantra of successful reality TV is "extreme personality disorder, extreme personality disorder, extreme personality disorder."
Instead of focusing on the wrecks being bought and sold, "Flipping Out" focuses on the wreck who's buying and selling them, Jeff Lewis, a preening, OCD-afflicted control freak who comes off as Joan "Mommie Dearest" Crawford inhabiting the body of a young -- or maybe just meticulously renovated -- George Hamilton. In the first few seconds of the show, as a pair of his assistants get ready to place a lunch order for the team, he tells them precisely what he's thirsty for: 70% lemonade, 20% punch, and 10% Sprite. And if they don't have punch, then 85% lemonade and 15% Sprite. And if they don't have lemonade ...
Okay, Jeff, we get it, we get it: You're 100% jackass. But Lewis is also an overachiever, so to establish his 100% jackassness even further, he refers to himself in the third person, tortures his cat with acupuncture, and pays a "spiritual healer" to smother him with a Navajo blanket as he lays on a massage and therapeutically screams.
While the home-flipping genre has its roots in do-it-yourself instruction, Lewis' well-moisturized hands never come anywhere near a trowel or paintbrush. Instead, he derives his sweat equity from the less physically demanding act of hyper-consumption. He buys lots and lots of houses, and lots and lots of furnishings for them, and eventually these shopping sprees turn into six-figure paydays.
To distinguish itself from a late-night infomercial, though, "Flipping Out" takes pains to show it's harder than it looks. For example, while Lewis explains to his assistant that one dump is telling him "Buy me! Buy me! Buy me!" as he goes on a walk-through, it turns out the chimney, sewer line, and foundation all have laryngitis that day, and don't mention anything about the costly repairs they'll eventually require.
Lewis employs the services of a psychic to get him through the rough times, but lighting candles, standing around in a new-age prayer circle, and blessing his properties offers only so much protection against rising fixed-rate mortgages and high construction costs. When you're juggling multiple million-dollar projects on a tight budget, one slow-to-sell listing or unanticipated catastrophe can turn the whole shaky enterprise into a pile of highly leveraged floor pillows and cranky, unpaid flunkies.
"I've got a couple weeks, then I'm in trouble," admits Lewis at one point during the first episode. Pray for an earthquake!
A frequent contributor to Las Vegas Weekly, Greg Beato has also written for SPIN, Blender, Reason, Time.com, and many other publications. Email Greg at [email protected]