I was lunching with a friend the other day, and he remarked that drag queens are the ideal reality television show contestants. Think about it: what makes a good reality TV star? Hunger for attention; an eagerness to pull stunts; highly developed senses of artifice and the absurd; the ability to bitch and/or give attitude in an entertaining way; and an outsized personality. These are the ABCs of drag. And so, we concluded, it is no wonder that RuPaul’s Drag Race (on OUTtv in Canada) is, as a matter of sheer inarguable fact, The Best Show On Earth. (I don’t want to hear any of your “what about”s. It’s the best show; trust, and deal).

Drag Race is brought to you by executive producers Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, the documentary team behind Party Monster (about gay club kid murderer Michael Alig) and The Eyes of Tammy Faye (about Tammy Faye Messner aka Bakker, essential queer viewing). For those who are uninitiated, let’s try and summarize Drag Race: part America’s Next Top Model, part Project Runway, part Fear Factor, part What Not to Wear on a shoestring budget, with a sprinkling of beefcake, and with drag queens. Each episode involves some ludicrous mini-challenge (my favourite thus far: decorating a box), a primary challenge, a runway show and an iteration of the phrase “Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve and Talent.” (Think anagrammatically.) The bottom two queens, in the now-immortal words of RuPaul, must “lip-synch…for your life! Good luck…and don’t fuck it up.” You’re welcome.

And alas, this season, the fourth, is about to wrap up. No tea, no shade: it’s been an odd run. While it does suffer from being in the shadow of Season 3, which brought us Raja and the best lipsynch ever, it was slow to start. There was a lot of chaff (poor bland Princess!), some ridiculous feuds (if I never hear Jiggly Caliente scream or cry again, it will be too soon), some lunatic lipsynchs (Milan’s Swiffer splits?), and some plain lunatics (li’l Kenya Michaels). It picked up steam towards the end, however, and now, ladies and gentlemen: your contenders for America’s Next Drag Superstar:

Chad Michaels: a Cher impersonator with a storied history, a steely insistence on professionalism and some troubling plastic surgery, Chad has emerged as the soul of the show. She was criticized at one point for not revealing enough of her personality to the judges. As the season progressed, though, the editors have shaped her into one of the most sympathetic contestants in the show’s history.

Phi Phi O’Hara: the villain. Whether or not this is true of the queen herself, on the show, she’s been edited to be a snippy bitch with anger management issues who is incapable of taking a joke. She has emerged as the season’s shrillest contestant, consistently exploding into a braying fit at the bat of a false eyelash.

Phi Phi was never the person you love to hate. That was Willam, eliminated for violating some unnamed clause of her contract, whom I miss. He was about as genuine as Ru’s boobs, and a relentless name-dropper, but he always remembered the golden rule of a fight: first person who loses it, loses.

Sharon Needles: the punky spooky weirdo avant-queen from Pittsburgh. The official dark horse, and my personal favorite. Certainly, of the current trio, she has the most highly developed camp aesthetic, and is the one I would most want to have a night of G&Ts with. And then she can take me back to her place.

Due reverence must be paid to the most recent ejectee: large and in-charge, chunky yet funky, the bold and the beautiful, Latrice Royale; she of the basso profundo voice, the rhinestoned lips, and the best laugh in all of television. She was one of the all-time best contestants on this show, who (I thought) stood a betting chance of being the first “big girl” winner — sadly ejected for her dubious taste in home-sewn high fashion gowns.

The finale of the fourth season is tonight, with a reunion special the following week. For those now prompted to paw through the sticky backrooms of the internet to get your fill of previous episodes: I envy you your mind-blowing discovery of this, The Best Show On Earth. Now sashay away.

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Sholem Krishtalka is the Toronto Standard’s art critic.

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