Juan Pablo #6: Who's in Charge, Here?

Where I live, I am only one hour away from Sochi time, and am watching my Olympics live, on a generic English-language Olympic channel. Much as I enjoyed my familiar NBC coverage, I really appreciate these announcers, who (a) understand that I don't need to know who they are, and that I'm not watching to see them, (b) are enthusiastic about all outstanding performances, without regard to the nationality of the competitors, and (c) know what "penultimate" means. I particularly admire the restraint with which I was served a half hour of Olympic speed-skating ice, with no commentary and no one on it. Eventually a band came out and entertained the crowd until competitors appeared and started warming up. Only then did the announcers pipe back up. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is called "trusting your audience." Or "nobody in the booth."

Not so The Bachelor! Any show that brings out a host to say "This is the final rose" when everyone can see a single rose in a chrome tray (or count backward from three) does not lack for production leadership. There's certainly a lot of the story we're not seeing, but we're not in charge, here. All we can do is sit back and swallow what they serve.

Or, more accurately, what they're trying to serve. Above the producers, I'll tell you who's in charge of my television experience: space people. Satellites, in particular, and don't kid yourself that they're mere machines. I watch The Bachelor through a DVR in the U.S., first thing in my Tuesday morning, which is only an hour or two after it airs there. This morning, however, I was the victim of a thing called "bitrate."

40 Kbps is bad. I watched that cat for a long time.

And that's my blue screen of death. I can only conclude that the space people made a fully conscious decision to mess with my morning. Jerks. Through the halts and breakdowns I got the gist of it in spite of them. I missed some screenshots, but I don't think I missed anything life altering. And who's kidding who? I wouldn't have missed anything life-altering if I'd missed the whole season.

So let's play Who's In Charge! For me, the space people. For U.S. viewers, the producers. For Juan Pablo...it's complicated.

The first New Zealand date went to Andi, who has been at the bottom of the power rankings for some time. I think Juan Pablo is genuinely interested in Andi, despite the curse of the last one-on-one date, but it seemed that producers were out to tank her chances. The speedboating was fun but passive, the wading through cold water was not what I'd dream of, and dinner beside a geyser was a disaster. You ever been to a hot spring? Unless you have a thing for rotten eggs, you don't want to eat or drink anywhere nearby. Add the cold wet spray from the geyser itself for a bonus. On the plus side, the wading led to a warm waterfall where they enjoyed some nice bonding time, and Andi went home with a rose. Safe for the time being, at least, but that date didn't appear to go nearly as well as I need for Andi to make it all the way to the end. I mean, come on. She's smart, she's fun, and she was rockin' a black one-piece. (Though I'm not sure how she got away with it under the white pants.) Props for the self-respect, and a little gratitude from everybody who wants the world to think you're wearing one because you have self-respect too, rather than just lumpy things to hide.

Who's in charge? The date-planning producer. Certainly not poor Andi, who came into the date "hoping for a breakthrough." I'm afraid wanting romance super-bad doesn't put one in a good position to take control at a critical moment. I will vote for Andi as the next Bachelorette, though.

I wanted to be on this week's group date. Well, after it got going, anyway. Things got a little weird at the beginning when Chelsie called Juan Pablo away from the opening picnic to sit a short distance away and blow on grass blades. What? But the interruption was mercifully brief, and then it was time to let the good times roll! (Sorry.)

We even got to see Sharleen Serious dive in like a kid, so it MUST have been fun. Then dinner in Hobbiton? Are you kidding? Frankly, Hobbiton was wasted on stumpy little folk with hairy feet. No, it's made for romance. You know, real romance. The kind where there's lots of candles and expensive dresses and beautiful people. Not ordinary romance for regular people or hobbits.

Or for Cassandra, it turned out. The birthday girl...Look! 21:

And now 22:

...admitted to missing her son, which helped Juan Pablo to see he was just messin' around and send her home straight from Hobbiton. Talk about your tough fantasy-to-reality transition. I must credit Juan Pablo with being a master break-upper, though. Somehow the "it's not you," didn't become the predictable "it's me," but instead "it's not you, because you're one of the most special ones, and I'm so grateful I got to know your specialness and be part of making you even MORE special and ready to be with someone not as special as me but more appropriate for you." Head still spinning, there was nothing left for her to say but "Thank you," and then a tearful limousine trip wondering what just happened. Dudes who want to escape a breakup unscatched, study up.

Who was in charge? JP, all the way. Poor Cassandra may only just now be figuring out what hit her. And getting kinda mad about it.

Want to challenge my scoring? Think back on his one-on-one time that same evening with Sharleen. Conversation? Not for him. No, Juan Pablo went straight for the action, leaving Sharleen to pull back and ask whether they could...you know, talk a little. Hoping to test him a little and put some of her unease to rest, Sharleen asked whether he could guess what she was feeling. His answer: "Great but scared." That's an exact, unredacted quote. And her reaction? Angel choir! He knows me! Every time I'm nervous he finds a way to put my mind at ease! All I can say is that I want to be the fortune teller that gets her in a tent when she's got a pocketful of cash. Yeah, Juan Pablo's definitely in charge.

The final one-on-one date went to Clare. Crazy Clare. Clare Cray-Cray. Clare, winner of the Tierra Tiara, and she wore it masterfully this week. She's more in control of herself than Tierra was. Although she doesn't have any friends in the house, she hasn't gone to war and created show-stopping drama, hasn't given the other girls reason to let JP know that she's a problem, and she's kept her theatrics at just the right level around him. Who's in charge? Clare. By a mile. By the end of their date, I'd put my vote in the sealed box. She's going to end up with the final rose, folks. Mark my words.

The situation was clear before the date even started, with Juan Pablo's narration that "Last week I got in big trouble with Clare. I made her upset." His sin? Telling her that he'd been uncomfortable. Events got fed into the Clare Grinder, came out as Clare Tears, and suddenly he's at fault in his own mind. For confirmation? Listen to Clare herself: "He hurt my feelings. He's welcome to say I'm sorry." As I recall, she was remorseful when events were fresh, but the Clare Grinder reforms things in her own mind, too. He made a good start with his apology early in the date, yet somehow that wasn't quite enough. Power had not yet fully come into her hands. So she pushed for more and got this:

Juan Pablo: "Promise you won't ever cry because of me."
Clare Cray Cray: "Just don't make me sad."

Game, set, match. Add that to finishing the evening by lounging around his room being adorable in sweats and the deed is done. Ladies and gentlemen, your winner. I'm taking dates right now for the final breakup. I've got July 1.

The final power rankings? Bottom to top, I have Girls, Producers, Juan Pablo, Clare. Then the space people.

We had nothing much to see after that, other than watching Kat take a big, slow-motion, third-strike swing at the cocktail party by going back to her alcoholic dad for meaningful conversation material. Juan Pablo, to his credit, is a kind listener, but her exit was known well before the first rose was awarded. Who's next? Will Sharleen eliminate herself? If not, I'd say the wind is blowing at Chelsie's back. I only hope the space people will let me find out when the time comes.