Sexy Beasts

For the most part, everyone navigates each other's strange appearance with a good sense of humor while the audience delights in the absolute stupidity of it all.

As a viewer, the big reveals were good fun, even as we, unlike the participants, were disappointed.

At times it’s like watching single-cell organisms trying to make conversation. ... “Sexy Beasts” is interesting, nonetheless, with little moments of revelation mixed in with the silliness.

The brief episodes are so relentless in terms of establishing the situation, explaining the format, setting up a panoply of individual dates, and providing endless and witless editorial comment, that little sparkles through the spackle. And the makeup applied to the competitors lacks the verve and oddity of the costuming on “The Masked Singer.” It’s all technically perfect — transforming young and eligible people into zombies, trolls, beavers, and dolphins. But this seamlessness leaves little room for personality.

The twist is that they’re all young and hot and boring. Comedian Rob Delaney, who offers a lightly mocking voice-over narration, is the only person to offer any interest to the series. And he knows better than to show his face on screen.

Sexy Beasts is shallow in concept and creaky in execution. Its heavy production choices—obtrusive narration, rigid structure, inorganic set-ups—feel especially dated. ... But more sinful is this show’s apparent refusal to do anything remotely interesting with its concept. Its mind-numbing repetition of the same punchline—people in funny costumes getting pedicures and, when they’re lucky, struggling to get their prosthetic noses out of the way for a kiss—gives diminishing returns each time.

Sexy Beasts is just another tawdry reality show. And that, far from a squawk on the wild side, it’s ultimately a bit of a bungle in the dating jungle.