Last week I happened to catch a rerun of Jimmy Kimmel Live. The episode had originally aired in November and featured Reese Witherspoon, Scott Weiland, and the Pumphrey brothers. If you are like me, you haven't the slightest idea as to who the Pumphrey brothers are. The truth is, not only did I not know who they were, I had zero interest in finding out. And so, after the Witherspoon interview, in anticipation of Weiland's gangly, teetering, guyliner smeared performance, I turned the volume way down and diverted my attention toward writing out a very short list of my new year's resolutions...in pencil.Then, just as Kimmel's two relatively unknown guests were walking out to their seats to chat, I glanced at the T.V. Now, much as I hate to admit this, it was what these two casually attired guys looked like that made me immediately dig the remote out of the couch and adjust the volume. Could it really be? Actual men? You see, the Pumphrey brothers, stars of a new reality show called Human Wrecking Balls on G4, are both impossibly tall, and brawny in a way that suggests strength, not preening. Both in their thirties, peroxide blonde Craig and brunette Paul are apparently, and each in their own right, highly regarded and accomplished martial artists who hold world records in God-knows-how-many feats of strength. Thus, after a brief, genial conversation, Kimmel challenged the brothers to demolish a vending machine with their bare hands. And so, in less than 2 minutes, that's precisely what they did. Have you managed to guess the premise of their show yet?
Human Wrecking Balls, on every Wednesday night at 10 PM, is a show about the science of breaking stuff with human force alone. The tagline is: Man vs. Man-Made. After I watched the brothers annihilate the vending machine on JKL, I nearly cried for all the lost treats that were so mercilessly strewn about the studio stage. I felt sorry for the vending machine, and yet, I could not help but be impressed by how precise and methodical the destruction had been. Effortless, even. Without a hint of chemical support, or pent-up aggression. This was not two jackasses trying to hurt themselves for cheap laughs. Too bad I'll never see the show, I thought to myself, knowing that I don't have TiVo and, therefore, due to my Wednesday-night-at-10 PM addiction to Bravo's Top Chef, would be unable to see the show for myself. And then, this past Sunday afternoon, while I was channel surfing, wouldn't you know it, I stumbled upon a Human Wrecking Balls marathon.
The show features the aforementioned Pumphrey brothers, an engineer/science guy, and a pretty, albeit, pretty pointless nurse on the sidelines who basically cleans out wounds and snoozingly tells the guys things like, "It's a good thing this or that didn't happen because I wouldn't have been able to do anything for you and the hospital is really far away." Great. What the hell are you doing there then? Couldn't someone like, oh I don't know, the Food Network's Paula Deen stretch Band-Aids across their scrapes and scratches? I'd rather see her and her motherly Southern comfort in the nurse role. An expressive, "Aww baby, what'd you do now? Come 'ere and let me fix that up for you," would make much more sense in this context. Never mind the fact that the brothers are from Indiana, not Georgia.
Anyway, where the stuntmen programming of late seems to revel in recklessness, this show focuses, instead, on the science of breaking things. Getting hurt is not their intention, even if it is their reality. They ask questions of the engineer/science guy or expert on site if what they are doing does not work. In other words, there is method here, not madness. There is an effort being made to educate the audience about what they are seeing. And I, a person who is not generally interested in examples of brute force or physical science, was awed by the art of it all. When Paul Pumphrey is commenting on his brother's performance of a specific task, for example, he'll often refer to how Craig looked while he was doing something. "It looked pretty," he might say. Or, "It looked cool." And it does. Especially when the slow-mo happens. You can appreciate the art when you can see the minutia of the execution. The height the jumps reach, the full extension of arms and legs, the glass crashing outward, seeming to splash...it isn't just breaking shit; it's physics by way of martial arts, and years and years of training. There is a sort of beauty here.
So then what is in the destruction? More art, or just a mess? I would argue that, in the destruction, you will find the science. There is a sort of wisdom here. Hence, the show's production team smartly uses these opportunities to flash digital science lessons and fun facts up on the screen to explain what is happening to the objects and why. There are blueprint sketches that simplify the scientific explanations for viewers. And in the brothers themselves? What do we find there? Well, there you will find the heart of the show. When the camera catches genuine looks and queries of concern exchanged between the brothers Pumphrey, you realize, as a viewer, that, yes, there is real risk involved, and, yes, they are real brothers.
The genuine affection and friendly rivalry they seem to enjoy supports the format, which is as follows: Craig comes up with a scripted "hair-brained" idea and tells Paul, "Hey, it'd be awesome if you did it." Paul is unwilling and tries to deflect the challenge onto his brother. How to solve this? Well, prior to any joint BIG challenge (i.e. destroying a Cessna airplane, office space, sailboat, car, manufactured home, and so on) the brothers compete in a mini challenge to determine who will have to do the extra tricky part per Craig's suggestion. For example, who will not have to run through a glass wall in an office? Whoever will most thoroughly destroy a Xerox machine with his bare hands in the allotted time, of course.
The engineer/science guy on hand is a little bland, but he knows his stuff. Unfortunately, he is also on hand to discourage results and lower expectations. He is, for lack of a better term, the resident naysayer. "You've got your work cut out for you with this one," he'll drone. His lines are stagey and manipulative at times, but they may just be intended to voice the thoughts of doubters who are sitting at home...or so I'm guessing. Who knows. Maybe the guy's just a downer.
The brothers themselves, however, are very likable, even when they are delivering corny lines. Craig, the younger, but bigger brother, can roll up a frying pan in his bare hands with about as much effort as it would take the average person to roll up a single sheet of oak tag. He seems to be the more natural athlete, and yet, Paul, who can hurl a round tabletop out a window like it's a Frisbee, seems to be the more disciplined and committed of the two. In other words, they are super strong, and don't seem to get drained of their strength.
Unfortunately, when I mention the strength of these two brothers to a strong man I know, he immediately dismisses them and brings up the steroid angle. And why wouldn't he, after all? I'm convinced that strength is to men what beauty is to women. Tell a strong man another man is stronger and he'll muscle through with a steroid accusation; tell a beautiful woman that another woman is more beautiful and listen while she brings up the likelihood of plastic surgery. Anyway, the steroid possibility hadn't crossed my mind before the strong guy I know mentioned it. Is it possible? Sure. Baseball and Andy (holy roller, my ass) Pettitte taught us that. But I kind of doubt it. Or, rather, I'd like to doubt it, because I like the show. And I think you'll like it, too. Who knows, this Wednesday night I may just break my routine and watch Human Wrecking Balls instead of Top Chef. See? I, too, can break something.
