But who are you really?
[Author’s Note: I originally wrote this piece and published it to a now-deleted Dreamwidth in December 2022, before Grandmaster Flash appeared as a guest on The Masked Singer. I assure you that if I had waited to write this piece after Grandmaster Flash appeared on The Masked Singer, then I would have said something about it. Boy, would I have something to say about it.]
It’s Comedy Roast Night on The Masked Singer and a bubblegum pink Kaiju-like dragon, dressed in her wedding white like any other blushing bride you’ve ever seen, is hobbling off stage to a thunderous standing ovation. Visible through a window in The Bride’s neck is professional wrestler and singer, Chris Jericho, sweating profusely, though clearly proud of himself for tonight’s performance and two-night streak as queen of his domain. No stranger to performing on stage in costume, Jericho’s rock-and-roll wailing on Billy Idol’s “White Wedding”, in what can only be described as a very expensive mascot uniform for David’s Bridal, is likely to stand out in his heart and mind for years to come when asked, “What’s the sweatiest you’ve ever been in front of a large group of people?”
“I’m so sad!” exclaims Nicole Scherzinger, dressed head-to-toe in monochrome neon yellow as a court jester of yore.
“He wanted it!” Dr. Ken Jeong says in reply, seeking confirmation amongst his fellow panelists.
Dr. Jeong finds it in his ever-eloquent colleague, Robin Thicke, who on Dr. Jeong’s repetition of the incantation, says the same exact thing while nodding sagely. “He wanted it. He wanted it.”
Then, Dr. Jeong turns to address the doubly-ever-eloquent, Jenny McCarthy-Wahlberg, his fervency growing, his need to express what it is he’s just witnessed in Jericho unable to abide. What he says next is not just for Robin, not Jenny, nor Nicole, but is a plea to The Masked Singer’s lively live studio audience without breaking the clear, plastic fourth wall:
“But it reminds you, this means something.”
Jenny McCarthy-Wahlberg also says the exact same thing, while nodding sagely. “It means something.”
Which, of course, begs the question–to who? Who, who? Who, who?
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Who are you?
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It’s January 2019, my grandmother died two days ago, and even after thirteen hours on the Amtrak in a snowstorm trying to get home from Chicago, I can still recognize Donny Osmond’s voice anywhere.
I won’t have confirmation for several more weeks, because The Peacock is a fierce performer and competitor and will eventually be crowned runner-up of The Masked Singer’s inaugural season. This is my introduction to the show, and in many ways, is why I continue to stick around: the high you get after correctly guessing your first celebrity contestant is sure to keep you tuning in, again and again.
Donny Osmond–or The Peacock–is singing a song from The Greatest Showman, one that gives me the sweats because Youtube’s autoplay feature always redirected me to this specific song while I was filling out grad school applications roughly this time the year prior. I didn’t get into grad school, but neither did Donny Osmond, who bounds about the stage like it’s a playground he frequented in his youth and also last week. A dynamic and engaging singer, I must admit I would be in the dark if not for burning out the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat recording, of which Osmond plays the titular Joseph, out in my grandmother’s old Buick. “This is definitely Donny Osmond,” I tell my mother and my sister and my aunt, who just wanted something to fill the especially empty quiet while we sorted through my grandmother’s things. I was wise enough to choose her jewelry box, which is how I acquired her gold pendant with the Virgin Mother and the baby Jesus carefully carved upon it before any of my cousins could. My aunt says it might’ve come from my great-grandmother, who would have gotten it in Florence, but she can’t be sure. I assume this story is true because I am sure my grandmother would have chosen something much gaudier against this specific necklace every time the choice was made available. She liked to show off.
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But who are you really?
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Donny Osmond is the Season 1 runner-up to T-Pain, dressed as The Monster—one-eyed, with horns and claws and lots and lots of throw-rug blue fur. After being mistaken for Jamie Foxx, Michael Vick, Darius Rucker, and Ceelo Green, Grammy-award winning Jack-Of-All-Musical-Trades T-Pain, trophy in hand, tells the audience that he “couldn’t come into the game with [his] natural voice.”
“And you know,” he tells Nick Canon, who knows all about the ways T-Pain has been scapegoated for the rise of auto-tune to the point that it became detrimental to his career, “a lot of my peers did, and they get accepted. This helped me get my voice out there even more. I appreciate you all.”
Jenny McCarthy-Wahlberg does apologize to T-Pain for thinking he might have been Michael Vick. T-Pain replies that he loves his dogs. He wipes a tear when Dr. Jeong compliments his natural voice.
(T-Pain also takes his win as his cue to go on tour. In hindsight, the marketing for his 2019 1UP DLC Tour is remarkably poor, and the entire thing is canceled because of low ticket sales.)
(Yes, Nick Canon knew exactly who the man behind the Monster was. He wrote it down before the furry blue head was removed and when it came time to confirm his clairvoyance, pulled out his guess, written on a fold sheet of white paper–”T-PAIN”, clear as day.)
(No, the rest of the panel does not get better at identifying Black participants.)
(Jamie Foxx makes too much fucking money to ever be on a show like this.)
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The Masked Singer is part of a wave of American productions that have derived their concepts from shows made popular in South Korea, such as Better Late Than Never, The Good Doctor, and I Can See Your Voice. For as much as the format remains, much of the original, the mother of all, remains unique. The costumes may be less anthropomorphic, the structure, less plot-driven, but in the South Korean blueprint, there is in fact a singer who is masked that a collection of panelists attempt to guess the identity of alongside the viewers at home. Instead of being a safe haven for B-list celebrities and those struggling to keep up with the required 3.0 GPA of Celebreality, King of Masked Singer appears to consistently cast singers. Case in point: Rose from BLACKPINK, Jungkook from BTS, and Chen from EXO. Actor Ryan Reynolds (inexplicably) and Olympic figure skater Jun-hwan Cha have also shown off their karaoke chops before the wider collection of judges, pulling off their masks mid-song, no “Who Are You?” by The Who necessary for the reveal. The reactions of the judging panel when a given participant is revealed suggest that they believed themselves to have a fighting chance in guessing the celebrity before them. I implore you, dear reader, without googling her, who exactly is Jordyn Woods?
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And who are you supposed to be?
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I did not need the crowned heart clue. I am a certified Kingdom Hearts Enjoyer, and have been for the better part of two (count ‘em! TWO) decades. Even without this damning detail, I was eight years old in 2004. Like anyone who watched Disney Channel at that time, I know exactly who Jesse McCartney is.
While we’re all on lockdown, these the darkest of our days, the third season of The Masked Singer gets to air as usual–it was recorded before COVID-19 shuffled us all inside to live through history being made. This means that the punk rock Turtle, complete with a leather jacket, gets to compete for the season trophy closer to a live studio audience than I will see for another two years.
“I’m so glad you did this show so that you could remind,” Nicole Scherzinger pauses here, perhaps mindful of her own misstep, “everybody just how ridiculously, stupidly talented you are.”
I do not look up from my Animal Crossing game. That’s how early into 2020 it was. My options were working from home, playing Animal Crossing, watching The Masked Singer, and wondering how long it would be before I could return to the world I knew and loved just as I left it. “I knew how talented he was,” I tell my mother. “I’d know him anywhere.”
(I would never return to the world I knew and loved, just as I’d left it. Not that you would either.)
“I have no idea who this man is,” my mom replies.
(If I told you that Jesse McCartney released a single shortly thereafter, would this be surprising to you? Have you heard it?)
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Who exactly did you say that you were?
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I don’t have anything against furries, I promise. I love anthropomorphic animal stories just as much as the next guy. I love Fantastic Mr. Fox. Hell, I’ve read at least half of Beastars.
But someone needs to know that the dog masks consistently sourced by The Masked Singer costume department are puppy hoods intended for pup play. Someone else needs to know besides me, and I’m not sorry that it is you. Someone else needed to know that I know and I recognize this. I can’t tell my family what I’m seeing while we’re watching it together because then I will have to explain why I know these dog masks are not just any dog masks. I’m not a furry. The costumes on this show are cool though.
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This is a show that makes aggressive use of NDAs. No one knows exactly who is behind the mask, even in rehearsal, where even more masks and hoodies with “DO NOT TALK TO ME” are printed across the front.
Imagine you are Michelle Williams of Destiny’s Child fame, but no one knows it. They know you as The Butterfly, getting ready to perform Jon Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” in front of 4.48 million Americans. You are standing on a platform high above a sea of fog when you are electrocuted. It splits the boot of your butterfly costume. You are smoking, and no one knows your name.
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We knew that Rudy Guiliani was going to feature at some point during the seventh (that’s right–one, two, three, four, five, six, SEVEN) season of The Masked Singer, though we could only guess when. It’s not as though there isn’t a precedent for Republican politicians attempting to rehab their image through The Masked Singer’s forgiving format; former governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, or The Bear, ironically tie-dyed with the pink, blue, and white of the trans flag, has also graced The Masked Singer stage with her interpretation of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s “Baby Got Back”.
(“It was all about the mask,” she confessed to host Nick Cannon during The Masked Singer aftershow, which someone out there must have watched. “I knew it would be so refreshing and so freeing and well, in a real respectful way, kind of a walking middle finger to the haters out there in the world where I could do whatever I wanted to do and not care what anybody said because they wouldn’t know until after the fact. So it all worked out.”)
We also knew that Rudy Guiliani’s presence on The Masked Singer was supposed to be drama-inducing. Dr. Jeong and Robin Thicke were supposed to walk off the stage in protests for Christ’s sake! This was supposed to be fun!
It’s 4/20/22. A tweet calling The Masked Singer “dystopian” for it’s reveal of Kermit the Frog as a contestant has already gone viral. I spend a lot of the time I spend with my family (which during my move, is a great deal) wondering when exactly I’m going to tell them that I’m a lesbian, and that I’ve met someone (surprise!), who I am dating (double surprise!). This is what I’m thinking about when I’m thrust into a discount production of Saw, Jigsaw the puppet swapped out for a vague Jack-in-the-Box look-a-like (though not too much alike, we do have copyright to consider). Like a tumblr user who insists that media must denounce his evil-doers in order to condemn their ideologies, The Masked Singer team are sure to cast The Jack-in-a-Box as a “Villain” in their season of heroes, cuties, and cons. He even sings “Bad to the Bone” so that you know he’s got nothing but the worst intentions, as if shady business for the former Present Trump, extended attempts to disenfranchise millions of voters, and at the time, ongoing FBI investigation into his dealings in Ukraine did not make it obvious enough.
(I would be remiss to not mention Guiliani’s role in the 2020 Borat film, as well as the hair dye melting off his temple at Four Seasons Landscaping press conference because those were embarrassing for him and I am mean.)
But back to my Reverse Bear-Trap, my 10 Pints of Sacrifice, my role in Saw: Chris Mercury–on the other side of a rousing “Take it off! Take it off!” cheer by the studio audience is the Jack-in-the-Box, stripped of his head to reveal America’s Mayor, under investigation for his role in the January 6th insurrection, Rudy Guiliani.
Nicole Scherzinger, the most qualified judge on this show by way of being a critically acclaimed actress, singer, and dancer, asks “Is that Robert Duvall?”
Dr. Jeong, the smartest judge on this show by way of being a doctor of internal medicine, answers weakly, “No.” Broken. “That’s not Robert Duvall.”
The crowd doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when fireworks shoot off. Guiliani says he wants his granddaughter to watch him and know she should try everything, even things that are really unlike you or unlikely. “It seemed like a lot of fun,” a common comment by older contestants, let people have fun. “And I don’t get to have a lot of fun.”
My family and I watch in a deflated silence as the artist formerly known as the Jack-in-the-Box sings us off in song. Jenny and Nicole dance along as Dr. Jeong exits the panel, Robin only going after him to check on him. This is not the fun we thought this would be. This is dark. And when the television screen ultimately, finally fades to black, there’s an adequate lull in conversation to discuss something, maybe even something important. Like Dr. Jeong, I too would have preferred to saw off my own foot–bbbbbbbad to the bone–than be here right now.
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Who do you want to be?
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The artist formerly known as The Fox, Wayne Brady, once said: “A show like this, because of the mask, took all of the bullshit out of the way and let me truly encapsulate what I do…I was Wayne as The Fox, and it was amazing.”
The artist formerly known as The Sun, Leann Rimes, once told her mask, cradling it before her to talk face to face: “I’m grateful for you, and I’m sad I’m leaving you, but you’ll be in my heart forever.”
The artist formerly known as The Harp, Amber Reilly, trusted the audience with her truth: “Being under the mask has allowed me to separate myself from former jobs, my name, what people expect from me and prove myself with just my voice.”
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Athletes are the wildcards of the wild, wild Hollywood west of The Masked Singer. The full range of quality starts with Rob Gronkowski, as the Tiger, and goes all the way back to Victor Oladipo as the Thingamajig.
Imagine. You’re in a singing contest against Seal and you don’t even know it. You’re used to singing a little in the locker room, a lot in your car, and almost nowhere else. When asked what song you’d like to perform this week, you choose Kacey Musgraves’ “Rainbow”. How on earth could you choose a tale like “Rainbow” to weave while in giant, fuzzy, foolish costume? Did you know what you were doing, when you sang “If you could see what I see, you’d be blinded by the colors / Yellow, red, and orange, and green, and at least a million others / So tie up the bow, take off your coat, and take a look around”? You had to have, and if you didn’t, Thingamajig certainly did.
See, Thingamajig can do what you can’t. Thingamajig is free, very aware, and very fond of his freedom in a way you don’t remember being for a really long time. What you don’t know is that you don’t have to stop being him when you decide what song it is you’re gonna go out on, and he doesn’t have to stop being you when you take the costume off after elimination. Is it possible that what is before and behind a mask are, in fact, one?
Victor, if you’re reading this–what do you know that we don’t?