In its third season, So You Think You Can Dance seemed to be angling hard for a girl to win the competition -- which is exactly like American Idol, writ small, with the entertaining/frustrating auditions, odd performance selections and judges' personal vendettas against some contestants and bewildering favouritism towards others. Everything's just on a smaller level; not as many people watch, not as many people audition. The judges are similarly lesser copies: Nigel Lythgoe, the British judge, is not as caustic as Simon Cowell. Mary Murphy, the nice choreographer judge, is not as incoherent as Paula Abdul. And the rotating third judge is not as much of a former member of Journey as Randy Jackson. But maybe its little-sister status makes it less of a chore to watch as AI can be; watching bad dancing is much more entertaining than watching bad singing. The show's main problem is that episodes start to blend in with one another: pick your dance style, rehearse it, talk about how funny/goofy/cute/sweet your partner is, express doubts about your ability to pull it together for show night, and then pull it off. The season's main drama arose from Adam Shankman calling Danny Tidwell arrogant (this after Shane Sparks had expressed doubts about putting Danny into the Top 20) and Danny trying to recover from that the rest of the summer. He almost did, but his losing to Sabra Johnson reminded everyone that in a popularity contest, it doesn't matter if you're, by most accounts, the most talented contestant to appear on the show thus far; people also have to like you. And disliking sunny Sabra is a little like disliking a kitten. When she won, the de rigueur conspiracy theorists claimed the judges tampered by openly expressing a desire for a girl to win the competition. You'd think the judges get paid to offer their opinions or something. -- Daniel
Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip
Okay, it feels like we've mentioned this a billion times, but once more for the historical record: they promised to save network television from itself. That really happened. Aaron Sorkin's return to network television -- with a show about the backstage trials and tribulations of a thinly-veiled Saturday Night Live sketch comedy show -- told us in the very first episode that he was coming back to save us from the cesspool that was the current state of TV. After watching enough of the show, that attitude became more understandable, as Sorkin was clearly operating in a universe where reality TV trash like Fear Factor and The Littlest Groom still reigned supreme. The show ended up getting a full season's worth of episodes where unlikable characters spouted haughty invective about reality shows and politics and religion and, most of all, Aaron Sorkin's petty grudges. Pretty much anything besides what actually goes on behind the scenes at a sketch comedy show, in other words. The major romantic relationships -- writing genius/emotional infant Matt and Christian/woman Harriet; dickish/balding Danny and pregnant/woman Jordan -- were possibly the least supported character pairings on television. By the end, at which point its fate had been long since sealed, the show had gone completely off the rails, ditching the behind-the-scenes material almost entirely in favor of hostage crises and medical emergencies. Probably not the worst show of the 2006-07 season, but certainly the most assured of its own superiority, and thus the most satisfying to watch crash and burn. Of course, we hear we were watching it wrong, so... -- Joe R
By The TWoP Staff
In its third season, So You Think You Can Dance seemed to be angling hard for a girl to win the competition -- which is exactly like American Idol, writ small, with the entertaining/frustrating auditions, odd performance selections and judges' personal vendettas against some contestants and bewildering favouritism towards others. Everything's just on a smaller level; not as many people watch, not as many people audition. The judges are similarly lesser copies: Nigel Lythgoe, the British judge, is not as caustic as Simon Cowell. Mary Murphy, the nice choreographer judge, is not as incoherent as Paula Abdul. And the rotating third judge is not as much of a former member of Journey as Randy Jackson. But maybe its little-sister status makes it less of a chore to watch as AI can be; watching bad dancing is much more entertaining than watching bad singing. The show's main problem is that episodes start to blend in with one another: pick your dance style, rehearse it, talk about how funny/goofy/cute/sweet your partner is, express doubts about your ability to pull it together for show night, and then pull it off. The season's main drama arose from Adam Shankman calling Danny Tidwell arrogant (this after Shane Sparks had expressed doubts about putting Danny into the Top 20) and Danny trying to recover from that the rest of the summer. He almost did, but his losing to Sabra Johnson reminded everyone that in a popularity contest, it doesn't matter if you're, by most accounts, the most talented contestant to appear on the show thus far; people also have to like you. And disliking sunny Sabra is a little like disliking a kitten. When she won, the de rigueur conspiracy theorists claimed the judges tampered by openly expressing a desire for a girl to win the competition. You'd think the judges get paid to offer their opinions or something. -- Daniel
Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip
Okay, it feels like we've mentioned this a billion times, but once more for the historical record: they promised to save network television from itself. That really happened. Aaron Sorkin's return to network television -- with a show about the backstage trials and tribulations of a thinly-veiled Saturday Night Live sketch comedy show -- told us in the very first episode that he was coming back to save us from the cesspool that was the current state of TV. After watching enough of the show, that attitude became more understandable, as Sorkin was clearly operating in a universe where reality TV trash like Fear Factor and The Littlest Groom still reigned supreme. The show ended up getting a full season's worth of episodes where unlikable characters spouted haughty invective about reality shows and politics and religion and, most of all, Aaron Sorkin's petty grudges. Pretty much anything besides what actually goes on behind the scenes at a sketch comedy show, in other words. The major romantic relationships -- writing genius/emotional infant Matt and Christian/woman Harriet; dickish/balding Danny and pregnant/woman Jordan -- were possibly the least supported character pairings on television. By the end, at which point its fate had been long since sealed, the show had gone completely off the rails, ditching the behind-the-scenes material almost entirely in favor of hostage crises and medical emergencies. Probably not the worst show of the 2006-07 season, but certainly the most assured of its own superiority, and thus the most satisfying to watch crash and burn. Of course, we hear we were watching it wrong, so... -- Joe R