Several months ago, after her breakout performance in the Bachelor franchise, Corinne Olympios received an alluring offer: a European media outlet wanted to award her “Reality Star of the Year.”
Olympios and her team had reason to believe the offer was authentic. The Miami-born Olympios had charmed The Bachelors millions of viewers by delivering ingenious lines (sample: “My heart is gold, but my vagine is platinum”), never-before-seen moments (she napped through a rose ceremony), and an up-front attitude about sex. The Cut declared her the “Best Bachelor Contestant of All Time,” and she was soon recruited to appear on Bachelor in Paradise, where she found herself at the center of one of the franchises biggest scandals. (Production was shut down following a drunken sexual encounter between Olympios and contestant DeMario Jackson, which Olympios has said she does not remember. After hiring heavyweight Hollywood lawyer Marty Singer, Olympios declined to press charges, but chose not to return to the series. Warner Bros. concluded there was no misconduct after conducting its own investigation, but introduced new policies to ensure the “safety and security” of everyone involved in filming. Jackson has denied any wrongdoing on his part.)
Finally free from The Bachelor universe in late 2017, the newly famous 26-year-old was besieged by interview requests, sponsorship possibilities, and other miscellaneous offers—like the “Reality Star of the Year” honor. Any doubts about the show itself—a U.K. ceremony allegedly called “Hot 100”—were assuaged when producers told Olympioss team that they were in discussion with Showtime over distribution rights, a kernel of truth in what proved to be an elaborately choreographed smoke screen. Olympioss handlers had no clue that Sacha Baron Cohen—the comedian who lures unsuspecting subjects into making outrageous statements—had invented new characters for a top-secret, politically skewed project. And even if they had, why would Cohen be targeting Olympios—the girl didnt need elaborate setups to land ridiculous lines. This is the woman who nonchalantly announced on The Bachelor that, at the age of 24, she had a “nanny” to do her laundry and make her meals—like the cheesy pasta recipe she had not been able to nail on her own. (Later, she published the “recipe” through Us Weekly—essentially “boil pasta and add sprinkled cheese.”) This is the girl who, after catching some flack for sleeping through aforesaid rose ceremony, made the immortal point: “Michael Jordan took naps. Abraham Lincoln took naps. And Im in trouble for napping?”
There were calls back and forth between Team “Hot 100” and Team Olympios—as part of the deal, she was told, Olympios would be photographed for the cover of an Italian magazine. Logistics were negotiated. Wardrobe was discussed. A “producer” for “Hot 100” called Olympios ahead of the photo shoot to conduct a pre-interview, during which he asked the reality star standard questions about her experience on The Bachelor.
“Everything was so professionally done,” Olympios said in a recent phone interview. “You would never know it was a setup. They called me about hair and makeup, this, that, told me what to bring.”
The day of the shoot, Olympios brought her manager along to the nondescript studio. Everything seemed aboveboard. Olympios had her hair and makeup done, and while her manager was distracted taking phone calls, a production staffer handed Olympios release forms to sign. Then, the reality star was ushered into the next room, but not before fielding a strange request.
“They were like, We need to take your phone, recalled Olympios. “That should have been a warning sign . . . but I was so excited about the photo shoot. Then, they told me that my manager couldnt come in with me. I was like, What? Then, O.K., whatever. I was so excited.”
The adjacent photo-shoot space was filled with frenzied people she assumed were photo staff and assistants. At the center of the chaos was the photographer—a towering man in a pink blazer, shorts, and Karl Lagerfeld-esque long hair, berating his underlings in a heavy Italian accent. Olympios had no idea that it was Cohen in disguise.
“This giant, tall, blond guy was screaming, Dont do this. Dont do that. Screaming. . . I introduced myself. He said, Hello, hello. Welcome, welcome, with this thick Italian accent,” she said. “Im thinking, This is such an overdone accent. I dont know if hes trying to be like that guy on Cupcake Wars, with the overdone French accent. I dont know what hes doing. Hes also obnoxiously dressed.”
Olympios thanked the photographer for inviting her to take part in the shoot and, initially, enjoyed the experience. After the photo segment of the shoot was finished, the photographer announced that he would be presenting her with an award in front of a green screen. While a video camera rolled, the photographer discussed The Bachelor with Olympios, and eventually presented her with her award. At that point, the direction of the shoot pivoted so quickly that no one even bothered removing the award from Olympioss hands. (The statue is the only lingering clue in Sundays episode about the premise used to lure the reality star to the studio in the first place.) “All of a sudden, he asked me something crazy—like, What do we do about these fat Italian women? I was thinking, Wait, what? I had no idea what to say, so I just said, I believe in good diet and exercise. Then he kept going with these crazy questions.”
At that point, Olympios interrupted to ask for a break and to speak with her manager.
The photographer said “sure,” but proceeded to ask her more over-the-top questions. No one left the room to get her manager. When the photographer broached the subject of the Ebola virus, Olympios again interrupted.
“He said something like, Tell everybody how you cured Ebola in Africa, and how you went there,” explained Olympios. This was the setup to the footage that aired in Sundays second episode of Who Is America? “I started getting worried and asked again, Wheres my manager? They said, Oh, dont worry. Hes just on the phone. I said, Can I have my phone so I can call him? My phone is nowhere to be found. I said, What is going on? I pulled him aside. I tried to grab the cameraman and ask, Is this O.K.? Is this O.K.? But none of them are answering me. Theyre like, We dont speak English.”
The photographer jumped in again, according to Olympios: “Its fine. You just have to tell people you cured Ebola. Just do it for my company. Its a big deal. Youre going to be on the cover of this magazine. Its fine.”
Olympios relented: “O.K. Yeah, I helped cure Ebola and saved 3,000 lives.”
At that point, the photographer asked for an outfit change.
“Still, no phone, no manager. He pulls me aside and is like, O.K., we are going to pretend that you went to Africa, and youre going to put on a hazmat suit, so we can insert you into the picture,” she said.
Olympios said she protested, but Cohen argued that she had no friends in Italy—who would even know about this?—and made it seem as though no one would ever see the footage.
“I go and I put on a bikini, and I have a hazmat suit over my bikini, and I come back out and go on the green screen,” she recalled. “Im so nervous Im shaking. Im like, What the actual fuck? This is going to fucking ruin my rep in America. Should I be doing this? Please, someone get my manager. Please? Theyre like, Oh, hes still on the phone. Sorry. Again, I asked, Can I please have my phone? They said, Oh, we cant find your phone . . . well look for your phone again.”
Cohens character directed Olympios to pose in her hazmat suit for the video camera before giving her a few accessories—Chanel sunglasses and a Fendi bag—explaining to her that the magazine needed to include sponsors. Olympios protested that people would know she had not been in Africa, but Cohens character didnt seem to care. As she was posing, just trying to get through what was needed of her so she could leave, she looked at Cohens character more closely and noticed a few things seemed off—“he had really bad hair implants and his tattoos were disgusting.”
“I blew up and I was like, I need my manager right now and my phone. They were like, O.K., we just have one more thing. Then well wrap it up. I tried to walk outside, because I was so mad and I was nervous and I was [so weirded out] that I was thinking, Oh my God, am I going to die? Is this O.K.? Am I O.K.? Im grabbing people, but no ones talking to me. Im like, Where is my manager? Im panicking. Im hyperventilating. Theyre like, We have one more thing. Youre fine, youre fine. You cant go outside, Corinne. Youre not allowed outside. Just calm down. I did this one last thing about children with guns. Im like, This is awful. What the hells wrong with you people? Get me the fuck out of here. I just wanted to get it over with—get out, you know?” (Showtime had no comment about Olympioss claims.)
It was only after she finished delivering the last lines that the “Hot 100” team let her exit.
“I leave, only to find that they had sent my manager home hours ago—and they had my phone the whole time. I called my manager like, How dare you leave me. That was fucking insane. I thought I was going to die. It was the weirdest shit ever. I hate you. I feel like Americas going to hate me. I was hysterically crying for like three hours.”
When Olympios and her manager tried to get in touch with the “Hot 100” team later, it was as though they had “dropped off the face of the Earth.” Olympios told her friends the story, but there was a part of her that felt like she was on an episode of The Twilight Zone—she had endured the craziest day of her life, she said, with nothing to show for it, and no way to get in contact with the perpetrators. Only afterward, when Olympios learned about Sacha Baron Cohens Showtime series Who Is America?—and its producers, who had similarly tricked a list of people including Sarah Palin, Ted Koppel, and Dick Cheney—did the reality star put two and two together.
“I kind of cry-laughed,” Olympios said. “Because imagine if that was real”—i.e., her terrifying photo shoot. “That would have been so awful.”
When Cohen dupes veteran politicians and journalists with decades of media experience and savvy gatekeepers, the resulting comedy is somewhat earned, if uncomfortable. But theres something that feels a bit strange about entrapping a twentysomething reality star in a room under false pretenses—especially when that reality star has proven herself comfortable with being a comedy punch line and unflappable by unflattering edits. As a person close to Olympios told us, “Most people couldnt do what she did on The Bachelor—and be given the villain edit—and not die [out of embarrassment]. She can endure that stuff. She has a different gene than the rest of us. So its become funny to her.”
Since Showtime announced the premiere of the series, some subjects—like Palin and Koppel—have come forward to volunteer how they were unknowingly lured onto the show. Koppel, who was able to excuse himself from the situation midway through filming, admitted, “Everybody loves seeing well-known people get duped. I relish it, too, when its done well.” Still, he added, “I think theres a larger issue here, and that is if theres one thing we dont need any more of in this particular era its people posing as documentarians. I think theres enough skepticism to go around about people who actually are reporters, who actually are documentarians. And to undermine whatever tiny little bit of confidence might be left by pulling a stunt like this . . . maybe it will make for a good comedy show. I dont know. But I dont think it helps the overall atmosphere.” Other subjects, like Joe Walsh—who was fed a different variation of the awards-show strategy Cohens team used on Olympios—have called for an outright boycott of Showtime.
Olympios, at one point, dialed Marty Singer to see if she had any legal recourse.
“He basically told me he couldnt really help me,” said Olympios, who said she later learned that she had signed away her rights for $100. “So now, Im coming out on this show, and I only got paid $100 for all of that craziness.”
Whether she meant it or not, Olympios insisted that she has since come to terms with her Who Is America? guest-star turn, and was actually looking forward to seeing the show: “Im not looking at it as a negative thing. I dont hold animosities toward anyone . . . Ive seen [Cohens] movies. Ive seen Da Ali G Show. I think its funny. Im excited to be a part of it, so well see how it pans out. Hopefully, the world doesnt hate me.” Olympios claimed that she had been “hysterically laughing” thinking back on the debacle recently, and hoped that audiences would realize the series “is just a funny thing.”
Maybe being branded a villain on reality television gave her thick skin. Maybe she is an eternal optimist. Or maybe any press is good press, especially for a millennial attempting to build her own empire. She has a slew of projects in motion—a clothing line, a podcast, a digital series, a roman à clef, and a mysterious project she will be rolling out soon—and a television platform is a television platform.
Asked what she would say if she found herself face to face with Cohen, she paused, then laughed: “I would say, literally, L.O.L. Well done. But I hate you.”
Get Vanity Fairs HWD NewsletterSign up for essential industry and award news from Hollywood.Julie MillerJulie Miller is a Senior Hollywood writer for Vanity Fairs website.
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