

RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 12 began with queens divided into two groups, only to merge those groups in week three like a vigorously shaken vinaigrette. But now, in week seven, the queens seem to have separated once more: oily tops against acidic bottoms.
The episode opened with Brita realizing, in the wake of her second lip-synch, that she is in the latter group, and she wiped Aiden Zhane’s goodbye message away with obviously false praise, clearly understanding that the writing is now on the wall and gunning for a magnanimity edit that will portray her as a face instead of the heel she is. In the confessionals, queens took turns rolling their eyes at Brita’s proclamations of love for Aiden, a relatively inexperienced competitor she singled out to blame for her own poor performances almost since the beginning. Some of the other queens complained that they are altogether a bit sick of false declarations of friendship, as they’d just come from an Untucked in which the contestants who have done consistently well, like Gigi and Jackie, dogpiled on those who have not, namely my precious unpolished diamond Heidi, who should be placed in a soundproof glass case and protected against all criticism from this day forward.
In the confessional, Heidi claimed that she was about to be an “umpire” and call out her bullies. What she actually did was endearingly try to tell Gigi to stop being such a goddamn sore winner and then look rightfully, and no less endearingly, hurt when Gigi continued to talk over her. The lemurian’s revenge is tarnishing Gigi’s golden girl edit with her dignified silence.
There was no mini-challenge this week, as the queens jumped right in to Madonna: The Unauthorized Rusical. This time, the casting felt a little more correct than the messy Gay Anatomy free-for-all that saw most of the queens in roles that were a little too big or a bit too small. It’s always a delight to see Michelle descend from the judges’ table and mingle with the queens as a vocal coach. She obviously takes her silliness incredibly seriously, and the performances she was able to coach out of most of the queens, despite many of their limited singing abilities, were pure campy confection and a reminder of why we’re all still watching. Notable exceptions were Jackie, who has perhaps never seen Madonna’s VMA performance of “Like a Virgin,” and, as Widow suggested, did not understand that in the original interpretation the simile carries a lot of weight for the speaker, who has seen a presumable wilderness of dick. In rehearsals, Jackie performed her role like an actual virgin, awkward and a little bit painfully. Another exception was Brita, who once again, failed to understand her strengths and begged for the “Vogue” cone bra role she assumed would have the best chance of winning her a place in the top. But she completely miscalculated, and despite doing some funny things with her voice, ultimately took a too tentative approach to a Madonna incarnation most people associate with underwear that could potentially kill a man.