Mamamia recaps MAFS: The horrors persist (and so does the photo ranking challenge).

Episode seven marks the beginning of something called Revelations Week. What is it? No idea, but I'm guessing a series of contrivances designed to make couples tell each other things that will rapidly accelerate mutual suspicion, paranoia and dislike.

As part of this brave experiment, our couples also move in together to begin their highly realistic simulation of domestic bliss. The happy couples are euphoric. "How could we ever argue here?" they ask, standing in their serviced apartments. The unhappy couples, meanwhile, drag their feet like condemned prisoners.

Speaking of which, Luke enters the apartment with the air of a freshly captured hostage being shown his cell. Both of them are so devoid of joy it's as if dementors have sucked their souls clean. Eventually, they're forced to sit down and attempt communication.

Watch: The MAFS teaser trailer. Post continues below.

"So…" Mel begins, stiffer than a plank of wood. "Obviously the vibes are super awkward. Shall we talk about it?"

Luke tries. "I feel a bit down," he says. "I've been putting in heaps of effort and it feels like you've been pushing me away. It's hard to stay positive."

"It's definitely hard," Mel replies. "And I just feel like it shouldn't be this hard."

At this point, I have lost all patience. Where is her humanity? But I'm also starting to wonder what's going on with him. Why hasn't he called this out? Why is he still here?

The details of Revelations Week are explained through a series of envelopes pushed like ransom notes under each couple's door. Inside are instructions for a number of tasks designed, according to the voiceover, to fast-track deep and risky conversations.

"People are gonna sh*t themselves," Gia says, gleefully. "Who's gonna crumble on this? Who's hiding stuff from their partner?" Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to show us your dealbreakers.

First up: Brook and Chris, who are, on the surface at least, getting along great — although sometimes it feels less like a marriage and more like a babysitting arrangement. Their first task is to watch each other's audition tapes — but separately and alone, so as to encourage raw, unfiltered reactions. Chris is unfazed. "Enjoy the show," he says.

Brook does not.

His audition, played back for her benefit, is even worse than I remember from episode one. "Dumb and hot," he says in reference to his ideal sexual partner. "Prove me wrong, experts, and give me this sexy brunette tanned girl on a platter."

Her face as he lists his turn-offs — fake tan, neediness and fat people, to refresh your memory — is sublime. "That's disgusting," she says when the recording ends. "I am fucking appalled." Welcome to the club, Brook.

What follows is a slow-motion car crash. Chris appears genuinely unaware of how offensive his views are, while also believing Brook to be heaven on legs — which, to be fair, she is. There's no doubt it's going to be a massacre. 

The first thing she does is tell him his tape is "fucked." 

"You're talking about women's bodies," she tells him. "You're 31. You shouldn't be speaking about people like that." His sheepish defence is that he'd only ever say these things to the boys, never to a woman directly — as if that's even remotely better. "There's no excuse," Brook says. "I don't know how you come back from that."

And finally the dynamic I've clocked from day one is confirmed: he is a frightened, clueless little boy and she is his mum. Behold, the shortest of all straws.

The only upside is that Chris does seem to grasp what a bell end he's been. As Brook steps out for air, he has a sudden epiphany. "I feel like I've let her down," he says, deflated. And then he delivers a monologue ripped straight from a Matthew McConaughey rom-com.

"I've gone through life living in an unproductive, toxic way, but I've done it to myself, I've got no one else to blame. It's about time I changed." I half expect an airport sprint. But instead Chris slouches deeper into the sofa, his head in his hands.

Image: Nine.

Gia and Scott are handed another contrivance: Rapid Revelations, which is basically just the honesty box again. When asked to share something Scott doesn't know, Gia reveals she once had a sugar daddy. "Really?" Scott says. "Human?" And the less said about that the better.

Bec and Danny, meanwhile, remain trapped in the same emotional loop, presumably because the producers have no reason to break it. They're presented with their own Rapid Revelations – aka the honesty box that broke their souls the last time – and are forced once again into wheeling out the same old brutal "truths."

He's not attracted to her, despite (his words) her cooking skills and the fact that she dotes on him. Bec adores and feels safe with him, a statement that feels questionable given her frequent tears.

The sexual chemistry conversation goes round in circles: he says they have none, she blames herself. He insists it's not her fault while taking no responsibility himself, she bursts into tears. It's no fun for anyone.

Image: Nine.

All couples then complete a gross photo-ranking task, seemingly styled after private school hot lists.

Alissa and David ace it, as do Filip and Stella. Gia and Scott are predictably shallow and ruthless. Luke and Mel basically implode. Luke places Mel first because the task is an obvious trap and what else is he meant to do? Mel opts for sociopathic "honesty" and ranks him second, behind Grayson – making her the only participant who has not met the unspoken brief (i.e. PUT YOUR TV SPOUSE FIRST FFS).

When she later talks about stalking her exes, I head off to make a load of FREE FARMER LUKE banners and plan a protest outside Channel Nine HQ.

When it's Bec and Danny's turn, I physically cover my eyes — I can't watch. But not only are they both quite nice to each other, Danny actually whips out an unexpectedly smooth move.

Opening the window, he flings out all the bride photos except Bec's.

"When I'm in a relationship," he says, placing her first in a list of one, "I've have the blinkers on and I only look at one woman." Suitably charmed, Bec beams. "The grass only grows where you water it," he intones like a wise old sage. And look — the jury's still out on him, but this is exactly the gesture Bec needs. It's kind. I'll take more of this, please.

Brook, meanwhile, is still pacing the block. She calls her sister Jesse, who tells her to run. "That's not on," Jesse says of Chris's misogyny. "Get out." And if I wasn't so keen to see Brook take another swipe at the sorry fella, I'd agree.

Gia and Scott mostly ace their tasks by keeping things sexy, but the audition tapes derail them when Gia watches Chris say he wouldn't date someone with a kid — unless the child had aged out of dependence and school fees.

Their confrontation is interesting. Gia's defences shoot sky-high, but she's absolutely right: her priorities as a mother are non-negotiable. And while Scott attempts damage control, claiming he's changed his mind since meeting her, he doesn't help his case by forgetting her daughter's name, the tit.

Fortunately, there are lights at the end of this particular tunnel in the form of Rachel and Sweet Steve, who both get teary as they watch each other's auditions and get a glimpse of the deeper vulnerabilities they might otherwise withhold, maybe forever. Their mutual empathy make my heart sing. As does their newly acquired pet fish. Far out, could they be any cuter?

And then there's Luke who, towards the end of the episode, finally chews through the bars of his cage and (very politely) walks out on Mel, at which point I literally stand up and cheer like Rocky Balboa at the top of the stone steps. 

As for Julia and Grayson, they barely feature this episode because they're alarmingly perfect and even the camera operators appear unable to cope with prolonged exposure.

Join me next time for a Red Flag, Green Flag challenge that sounds to me like Squid Game for the emotionally fragile. Don't move. Don't blink. Don't be a dick.

Feature Image: Nine.