Netflix’s “Selling the OC” continues to sit in that strange reality TV limbo where everyone is beautiful, slightly unbearable and deeply convinced they’re the moment.
Another glossy spin-off in the “Selling Sunset” universe, serving up designer tantrums and suspiciously sculpted bikini bodies. Yawn.
That said, I have to give credit where it’s due – the properties still deliver. The homes scattered around Orange County remain the real stars of the show, all sun-drenched glass, infinity pools and “rich people with zero clutter” energy.
Watching these agents walk through airy mansions with ocean views is like sipping a fancy iced drink on a heatwave day. Refreshing, slightly indulgent, and easily the best part of the series.
Unfortunately, we’re still stuck with a cast full of what can only be described as NPCs – non-playable characters. In gaming terms, these are background figures who exist to fill space, nod awkwardly, and react to chaos rather than drive the story.
And that’s exactly the vibe in season four. Plenty of noise, minimal substance.
Alex Hall, once again, positions herself as the emotional centre of the universe, collecting romantic entanglements like loyalty cards. She introduces her boyfriend this season, who storms in with all the intensity of a man who permanently lives one cocktail away from chaos.
Surprise, surprise, they’re no longer together, yet he still loiters around with a drink glued to his hand and unfinished business energy leaking everywhere. And yet, Alex remains uncomfortably attached to Tyler Stanaland’s dry, emotionally unavailable aura.
The chemistry is still there, undeniably awkward and oddly physical, the kind that makes everyone watching whisper, “Something is definitely still happening.” Whether that something is love or just plain stubbornness, who knows?
Polly Brindle, meanwhile, seems slightly toned down, which is saying a lot. Her new romance with a New York agent adds tension to her bond with Alex, and their friendship begins to fray. Polly’s hunger for success borders on unsettling.
It’s like she’s racing a ghost version of herself that’s never satisfied. One deal done, straight on to the next conquest.
Then there’s Gio Helou, eternally smug and somehow thriving. A walking ego in an expensive suit, yet oddly effective. You almost have to respect the audacity.
Ashtyn Zerboni, another new character in the mix, sorry, agent. She can only be described as pregnant, loud, and aggressively involved in everyone’s business. This pregnant lady has no problem gossiping while her baby listens.
She floats between cliques, spreading half-baked stories and playing innocent afterwards. Strong dinner-table-instigator energy. The type who causes emotional carnage then cries the loudest when confronted. Exhausting.
Kaylee Ricciardi, however, was a pleasant surprise. Direct, firm and uninterested in sugar-coating nonsense, she brought a sense of grounded realism the show desperately needs. Refreshing, honestly.
The youngest in the group, 23-year-old Fiona Belle, steps in determined to prove she belongs in the big leagues. While dragged into unnecessary drama, she stands her ground and refuses to play small, which earns her points in a group desperately clinging to relevance.
Overall, this season feels softer than before, but it is still meh. It’s less bite, less spark, more background noise with pretty houses, pretty people and predictable drama.
Rating: ** significant flaws but some merit.
