Confessions of a Former Teen Idol

VH1’s latest reality show, Confessions of a Teen Idol, is yet another exploitative venture to milk whatever public interest from a bunch of ’80s and ’90s has-beens — a stop, perhaps, that falls somewhere between Celebrity Rehab and Celebrity Fit Club.

The eight-part series features Christopher Atkins (The Blue Lagoon), David Chokachi (Baywatch), Billy Hufsey (Fame), Jeremy Jackson (Baywatch), Eric Nies (MTV’s The Real World, The Grind), Jamie Walters (Beverly Hills 90210), and Adrian Zmed (TJ Hooker, Grease 2).

Created, in part, by host Scott Baio and former Wonder Years’ sidekick Jason Hervy, the premise is simple: can these former heartthrobs regain the popularity of their youth? To do this, they will have to live together and perform various acts of humiliation.

In the pilot, they are escorted by limos to a fancy club where they’re shuttled backstage as an emcee announces their arrival to a seemingly packed house. However, when the curtain is drawn, they find themselves standing in an empty auditorium with Scott Baio and Jason Hervy weaving some obtuse morality tale of their lost fame.

The stunt appears to run afoul with Chokachi, who comes off like a petulant tool as he packs his things and walks off the show for four minutes, only to have Hervy convince him to come back.

Aiding our group of wannabe limelight-stealers is a group therapy session administered by “celebrity psychology expert” Cooper Lawrence. Tested by the former teen idols about her qualifications, Lawrence does her best to avoid answering by directing their attention to a shiny object – a mirror.

Since this is not a competition, I’m not sure what’s really in the offering for this group of former teen idols. Atkins seems to have the most going for him, both in looks and talent. He claims to have chucked acting for building pools; however, his credits on imdb seem to show the contrary.

Zmed and Huffsey seem to fair the worst, perhaps in part because calling them “teen idols” in the first place seems to be a stretch. Eric Nies comes off the most kooky, toting along his own special diet products which he tries to get the others to convert to eating. If drinking his shake gives the bloated Huffsey a six-pack anywhere near Nies’s, sign me up.

For his part, Baio does nothing to add as host — if anything, his smarminess only serves for the audience to wish main contender Christopher Atkins to flee this reality train-wreck and go back to his pool business and the daughters he clearly cherishes.

Haven’t they all learned the lessons of fame yet?