Robby Benson! That's who that Tyler guy reminded me of yesterday, with all the hair -- as well as Mika, it was pointed out to me -- he looks like Robby Benson. I watched Jeremy this summer with Chad and we hated that movie so much that when it was over that we threw it behind a bookcase. And there it remains.
Hey quick, pop quiz: Where was Ryan Seacrest born? Atlanta. Everybody knows that, Ryan Seacrest! Except for everybody he's asking now. Oh, the show has started. Gotcha. Maybe I only know that. Maybe if I'd been asked that in person he would be like, "You really get me, Jacob." And then teach me all the steps to the "Single Ladies" dance, because you know he's got that shit on lock. "You, me, and the speedboat they call Codzilla," he'd say. "You grab the champagne."
Everybody in Atlanta is being adorable except for Randy Jackson, who is lounging indolently in his ride whining. Mary J. Blige is there, looking gorgeous, and there are some lovely shots of Kara adoring her in the greenroom before it's time to start. They show all her videos and stuff, and I mean, I feel like this show is one long excuse to talk about Mary J because she comes up so much. I've had her explained to me multiple times but I still don't feel like I know much about her. Well, I know she's a wordsmith.
Without her -- you may be too young to remember this -- but before Mary J. Blige we didn't even have a word for danceries.
It was just like, you showed up, maybe a person started dancing, maybe they were drunk or something. And then if you felt like it, you could dance too. But nobody knew how to feel about it, and there was something uncomfortable about just dancing somewhere without warning, and some people thought it must be evil or else there would be a word for it, and that's what that movie Footloose is about.
I know that she's in a commercial for some kind of technology or credit card where she walks and walks and keeps having her futuristic clothing change on her, and then she has an iPod baby or something, but all I remember about that commercial is how dumb she looks and how something about filming of that commercial ended up making her look like the act of the catwalk itself was just a little too complicated for her. Really what I know is that she is awesome, and that she has gone through hell and become beautiful. Also, she is the only person I know of, besides myself, that actually believes we are in the Matrix.
So the thing is that this particular Atlanta set of auditions is going to be at the top of a 27-floor elevator ride. Kind of like the Chair, but earlier and less meaningful. The first person is Dewone Robinson (27, Atlanta) who works in retail and has many ways of telling us he's confident. His pants are high and his eyes are like a stoner's, but he seems very charming. He has a connection to the Pips of some kind, which is a good thing in my book. He tells us he's like a diamond in the rough, and then dances like Frankenstein. Like white Frankenstein. Then he sings a song of his own devising, which means he's gone already.
So the thing is that this particular Atlanta set of auditions is going to be at the top of a 27-floor elevator ride. Kind of like the Chair, but earlier and less meaningful. The first person is Dewone Robinson (27, Atlanta) who works in retail and has many ways of telling us he's confident. His pants are high and his eyes are like a stoner's, but he seems very charming. He has a connection to the Pips of some kind, which is a good thing in my book. He tells us he's like a diamond in the rough, and then dances like Frankenstein. Like white Frankenstein. Then he sings a song of his own devising, which means he's gone already.
And it is terrible, this song. High wriggling falsetto, pronouncing "lady" as "layty" which I hate, always, and immediately Simon's like, "What the fuck is this?" He says the title is "Lady, We're Not Together Anymore," which is upfront in a respectable way, and then sings again, and keeps shuttling back and forth between the high scary bad voice and the low crazy voice, causing the Judgery -- which it occurs to me was named in Mary J's honor in the first place -- to titter. Mary J tries, for the moment, to be classy and not laugh in his face. That won't last. Kara prays for it to end and then -- after a rousing refrain of "It's over/ It's over/ It's over," ad infinitum -- it is.
They tell him it's horrible, and he not only says that's Simon fault but also drops into the hateful In Living Color white-guy goober voice to demonstrate how it's somehow Simon's fault that he sucks. This back-and-forth bullshit gets them through about ten minutes before he starts over, and at this point they really do start cracking up. It's just awful. He's awful. Kara's bemused at his claims to vocal talent, and the guy's like, "What do you want me to do?" and she finally explains: "LEAVE." This is already too long. Everybody wishes everybody else a blessed day a million times, and he sings to himself in the elevator. This episode is not starting off well.
Although hearing Ryan Seacrest say, "They call it Hotlanta" goes a long way. The guy sings all screechy and weird, and everybody laughs, and it's always nice when Simon enjoys himself. there are shots of a bunch of cheerleaders there in support of a girl we'll never actually hear sing, a dumb drum circle, and Simon continuing to be punchy.
Keia Johnson (26, Memphis) is a "marketing rep" who won Miss Congeniality at some kind of Miss America pageant, or I guess the Miss America pageant, which blows Simon's mind, because who wants to be told they're not the prettiest but has the best personality. And Keia rocks it: "Um, me?"
Well, now they all love her. She helpfully invites them to tell her to start singing, so they do, and she does. She's got awesome shiny ruby-red kicks, yellow tights and a tiny shirt, and giant blonde curls. Her eyes are gigantic buggy Bette Davis eyes, but the only real problem is her lipstick, which is really unfortunate. She sings "My Heart Will Go On" in a way that is probably pretty, but overwhelmingly loud, and it takes them a while to come down one way or the other. By the end, though, her clarity and passion have won them over. They call attention specifically to her phrasing and the stuff she did with the ends of her notes, which was creative and controlled, and Kara says she's a joy to watch. Simon still thinks she's too musical drama, but Mary J perseverates on the phrasing until she gets through. As she leaves, Simon goes, "She's sweet" -- and downstairs, about fifty people lose their fucking minds and pile on her and it's amazing.
Miriam Lemnouni (25, Atlanta) is an equestrian trainer who will be singing "The Climb," which is not a great idea but something she does awesomely. She looks a lot like beautiful Brooke Burns from Melrose Place who I first fell in love with on North Shore, but in a more normal human proportion. Less giant head/giant face working than with old Brooke. Simon can't get the smile off his face, which is always good. She's through to Hollywood, as are the two ladies: Noel Reese (16, Sophia, NC) who has braces and is wearing an insanity-print summer dress, tries way too hard with her weird movements, but has a great tone; and Tisha Holland (18, Riverdale, GA) who is just phenomenal. All the judges get weirdly obsessed with her, and she does a cute little dance around. Her hair is short and surprisingly cool: The top part is brown, but like a really subtle, russet brown, on top of the black. You're picturing T-Boz, but trust me that it's actually quite becoming. Usually people with concept hair, by the time they've made it to the auditions they've really lost their commitment to it and it just looks nuts.
Jermaine Sellars (26, Joliet, IL) is a church singer (Ryan loves that he gets paid to sing, and you know in his wee head he's like, "I wonder if I could get that gig, I have forty-five minutes free on alternating Sundays and I was looking for work") with a very supportive mom, whom he's been supporting since he was 17 because she has spina bifida, which is a motherfucker of a disease. Ryan loves him, I love his steel skull belt buckle.
Kara smirks because she's embarrassed, and puts a hand on Randy's arm to keep him from cracking up or otherwise encouraging Christy Marie, and Mary J is just eloquently whoa and Kara agrees with Christy Marie that love is, in fact, a battlefield. Kara is turning into a bit of a tryhard this year. Then -- speaking of -- Christy Marie goes twice as wiggy talking about how love is a battlefield and this is her battlefield because music is her passion and her love. Which maybe this was extemporaneous nuttiness, maybe she rehearsed the nuttiness beforehand, but either way it comes spatter-scrawling out of her twitching face and you start to feel that perhaps she's dangerous.
You know how on Glee you're like, "Rachel's so crazy LOL" but then sometimes you're like, "Oh shit, Rachel is crazy! I forgot this was teen Nip/Tuck for a second" -- or whatever character, because they've all gone nuts at this point at least once -- and that's the genius of the show, that it's so brightly acidic and too dark to actually conceptualize very often? Well, that's what this is like. She looks like her front elevation is a football banner and one or more unhinged people is about to burst through it and onto the field.
Mary J hides from her in her futuristic clothes and Kara offers her "the 411" that she's sweet but not a singer, and Simon calls her more of a "911," which is both funny and culturally aware of him, and downstairs Ryan asks her mom what's going to happen and her mom is like, "Honestly, this is probably going to get super fucked up."
And then it does.
People who never sing for us but we still have to watch them get turned down -- which, by the way, is actually the opposite of what this show is about, and makes no sense, and is stupid and boring -- include an awesome mohawk guy, a dreamy Neal McDonough type, a cute blonde with giant lips, some asshole in a hipster Palestinian scarf like it's 2008, a guy with a moustache and the look of tax woes about him, and the cheerleader, who it turns out is super cute. WTF is the point of that? If I wanted to watch people cry without caring about the reasons, I'd be dating right now.
Last of the day is Vanessa Wolfe (19, Vonore, TN) who... Yeah, they got me. See, she looks like every hick thing at once, happening in one place. All of them: The really bad things like meth and uncles, the also bad things like leaving high school a bit too early or racism, the minorly bad things like yucky fashion and fast food employment and maybe your parents are not entirely heterozygous. What she does for fun is jump off bridges, because she can't make it to the mall, and her mom (I think) has a shirt advertising something called "cow tipping," which I'd imagine is a breeding service of some kind if I didn't know better, and she's aware of the rest of the world in this tenuous hypothetical way, like she's East Germany, and she talks like she's got a concussion, and good old AI is playing straight-up banjo music, and she lives in the smallest town in Tennessee -- which is a Venn diagram of unspeakable terror -- and her best friend is her mom, and she has a nose ring, and she's quite proudly wearing a $4.50 dress which she bought at the Dollar Store in Smyrna.
"If I didn't have a dress on I'd throw you a backflip," Vanessa finally says through her tears, and Simon makes a confused, scared face because he didn't understand half the words and managed to understand the wrong half and now thinks she's offering him a hummer, and everybody else interrupts to save them from that bullshit. By the third yes, she's openly weeping -- and then she screams! A hoedown holler! And it is awesome, and it scares Simon, who just keeps warning her how hard and ugly and mean this is about to get. And you know, obviously he is correct and should be warning her about these things, but the whole point is that she doesn't even know about that part of things, which means Hollywood really is going to eat her alive, and so for the last dip on the Vanessa rollercoaster you get to be worried about her in a whole new way.
But Vanessa's not worried about any of that today, she just cries on the elevator and runs, screaming and barefoot, out into the sunny streets, pronouncing it "aeroplane" and shouting about Hollywood, while "So Small" tinkles softly in the background. Well played, show. Well-fucking-played. I didn't think I had access to that many emotions -- at least not sober -- much less that I could feel them all in ten minutes while watching the industry's seduction of someone who could just as easily have a successful character actor career exclusively playing meth-addicted prostitutes.
Day Two. Simon fools around on the mat like he's going to sing, it's cute. I've never seen Simon this happy for this consecutively long. I don't think he grumps out once this entire episode. And then just as the sun is coming out... All that Vanessa goodwill toward the show goes down the shitter as they introduce an honest-to-God mentally disadvantaged actually inbred nearly microcephalic dental-nightmare bumpkin, with banjo music, and then do a sub-Benny Hill reenactment of scenes from his life with smug Hollywood fags in goatees sticking out their buck teeth and running around with bandannas, and subject the kid to worse abuses inside -- this kid who can't even fucking form a sentence -- and Mary J just can't believe what a cartoon he is, and you know, as likely as I would be to bleep-bloop over this segment anyway, tonight it's not even a question. I just...
Even after he figures out what assholes they're all being to him, and his face goes sad and hard and he gets ready to leave, he's still totally fucking polite to them, and outside he just shakes his head and lets his friend the cowboy with the great ass lead him away and just says they were rough on him. You know what I mean? Fucking show. The only thing I hate more than other people misbehaving is feeling myself go self-righteously appalled, but it's not even that. I just can't imagine laughing at that kid. I can't imagine sending him up in that elevator, and I can't imagine spending more than six seconds with him before looking at the producers and going, "Nope. This one's not happening." I don't want to have dinner with him, I don't want to talk politics with him -- and I doubt very highly he's interested in going to dinner with me either, you know, so it's not like either of us is the bad guy -- but I don't see the point of laughing at him.
And then she sings "You Ain't Woman Enough To Take My Man" by Loretta Lynn impeccably, two octaves down in this rich, deep lovely alto, switching dictions more completely than Maria Bamford does, and blows everybody's minds. Simon stares around like he's getting punked, but keeps having his gaze drawn back to this girl, sounding phenomenal while dressed like a total dick.
When she's done, Simon tells her to keep the glasses on and asks her if she's insane, dressing like a guitar and looking like an insect and singing "country and western" at him, which I love when he says that, "country and western," and how much weirder it is that she totally rocked it. He says she's fun, and she giggles that she could lose the outfit -- meaning later, in Hollywood, but he doesn't get that right away and makes the weird woggle-eyed move again, like yet more people are trying to blow him -- and they all talk about how funny and charming and ballsy she is -- (Mary J is just incandescent: "I don't get it. I don't understand") -- and how none of it would matter if she didn't have the voice to back it up. I fear that, as for the last nine years, the "but it's okay because you're talented" part will be lost to future auditioneers. Holly tells Simon he's gorgeous and he asks if she honestly thinks he'll respond to flattery -- and then she comes running and screaming out of the elevator downstairs, because of course he was kidding.
The bad voice of a guy with a very small face send Mary J off again, and Simon says his voice is like a cat barking: Something that should never happen. is Hansel Enriquez, who -- much like his fellow nineteen-year-old compatriot, the luxurious-locked stoner dude from last night -- has temporarily terrible skin and a beautiful face that will outlast it, but has sadly slathered himself in foundation of absolutely the wrong tint, so that he looks like a tranny mime. He looks like Stuwwelpeter. It's so damned tragic that you can't even deal with his horrible back-of-the-throat version of "Reflection." One day, son. Just... You're a Summer. Wearing makeup meant for a Winter is going to make you look like a sewer mutant. Plus, don't wear makeup to cover your blemishes because it only makes them worse. (Plus, don't wear makeup.) Then comes a cute gay kid with a t-shirt that says Britney Spears Saved My Life, Blake Smith, who returns the favor by destroying a Britney song irrevocably, but he's got a thick neck and a baby face, and some hilarious expressions in his arsenal, so he'll be okay.
Baxley, GA's own Lauren Sanders (18) and Carmen Turner (19) are BFFs ("for life," one of them helpfully/redundantly offers) who try -- lamely and poorly -- to finish each other's sentences and are generally horrific. The hot one, Carmen, has a gimp eyelid at times; the other one, Lauren, has a creepy tiny doll face that's covered in makeup and makes her look like Toddlers & Tiaras. They're both kind of awesome and kind of terrifying, but in different ways. They would like to audition together, which pisses Simon off, and he immediately starts trying to drive the wedge by asking which one's the better singer. Lauren, who already is clearly the deficient twin in every single way, railroads Carmen at every opportunity to yell at the judges about how they are completely the same and equal in every way.
I recap Gossip Girl. I already know what's going to happen here. So Blair sings first, and she's crappy and has no self-confidence and a whispery voice, and then Serena sings, and is actually pretty good. Simon's face actually gets disappointed because he can no longer hate them equally, and he tells Serena that she's straight up better than Blair in every single way, and maybe they should just GTFO and start a band called "The Ditz Sisters" or "The Ditzies" instead of being party to what happens . Which is a bloodbath.
Randy says, of course, yes to Serena and no to Blair -- who immediately starts promising to practice, pathetically -- and Kara actually goes, "Oh, Lauren." She sadly explains that A) They were asking for this and B) A true BFF supports her BFF. (Which is funny, because in HD you can actually see their "BFF" necklaces turn brass and then turn green and then rust to nothing and fall off their bodies entirely, like mummy jewelry, while this is happening.) Serena starts crying while Blair embarrasses herself further with the begging, and Kara says yes to Carmen and no to Lauren, and then Mary J does the same thing.
Simon says something to the awesome/awful effect of, "If it helps I would have said no to both of you. How terribly awkward this must be for you both!"
Not that people will stop trying this shit. They hug it out, but the love is so gone. That's every episode of Gossip Girl in a nutshell, that sad little scene. So Carmen goes downstairs crying a big old mess, and Lauren's being a total champ while she cries, but there's something sort of deliriously vicious about the way Carmen weeps, "I couldn't have gotten this far without you, Lauren!"
"This far"? Really?
I love how this whole episode is like the Susan Boyle thing from every possible angle. "You look like a meth addict, but sing like an angel! You look like a white supremacist, but sing like the Velvet Teddybear! You look like a character from The Wire dressed as a clown, but sing like a choirboy! (Dressed as a clown!)"
Lamar Royal (20, Goldsboro, NC) assures us of three things: 1) He is very excited about the Mary J part of today; 2) He will respect the judges; 3) He can handle constructive criticism. Needless to say, we're about to witness a meltdown of Brittenum proportions. I don't even know if I can do justice to the amazing, operatic way this all goes down. In flames, is how it goes down. So he sings "Kiss From A Rose" and just fucks it all up, loud as hell and twitching and looking like he's having a serious adverse event, and they immediately stop him and tell him it was "torturous" and try to explain how music has notes and pitch and stuff. Lamar interrupts to offer another song, but they explain helpfully how no, he's really just that bad. Lamar interrupts and starts crying and yelling, and can't hear them at all, so they tell him to quiet down and listen to their advice. Lamar responds by shouting the first two bars of "Ma Cherie Amour" at them, at top volume, seven times in sequence.
They politely ask Lamar to leave, but Lamar interrupts. Mary J gets real as hell. "You need to find some humility if you're going to do this, and stop trying to exalt yourself." God, I love the way she talks. They politely ask Lamar to listen to their helpful advice and he shouts the first two bars of "Ma Cherie Amour" at them, three more times. At this point he begins stomping around the place, and it takes three security guards to keep him away from the judges' table.
It is at this point that Mary J Blige, as they say, hits the deck.
Lamar shouts the first two bars of "Ma Cherie Amour" four more times as the security guards escort him out of the way, and then he busts into a torrent, just a deluge, of profanity.
Things and/or persons that are invited to fuck themselves at this time:
American Idol, the television show
American Idol, the institution
Randy Jackson
Kara DioGuardi
The lack this year of Paula Abdul
Simon Cowell, wherever he may be
Kara DioGuardi, again and in particular
All past winners and/or contestants
Kara DioGuardi's inability to quote "sing a lick"
And, finally and regrettably, Mary J. Blige herself.
Mary J: "I thought he was going to pull out a gun! I was getting my duck on!"
Kara: "Randy, were you prepared to rescue us?"
Mary J: "I was getting my duck on!"
Outside, Lamar is singing the first two bars of "Ma Cherie Amour" in an unending carnivalesque madhouse litany, interspersed with more profanities and suggestions for the panel and the show... Whilst weeping. So good.
And just when he's petered out and huffing on the sidewalk and you're saying to yourself "Good Lord that was awesome," the camera guy shifts our gaze to the stoplight at the corner, where an X-Terra full of awesome individuals has stopped to watch Lamar Royal shit his pants outside a convention center... And to applaud him.
It's no secret that I hate Auditions more than any other part of the show. But it's also no secret that I'm easy like Sunday morning: Throw me an Andrew Fenlon every now and again, or a snarky X-Terra full of people who know goddamn entertainment when they see it, and I'll be cool. This has been the greatest audition week in the history of this show.
A very old veteran, General Larry Pratt (62, Atlanta), sings a song for us called "Pants On The Ground," which is a song -- we're told -- about pulling your pants up. It goes like so:
Pants on the ground
Pants on the ground
Looking like a fool
With your pants on the ground
With the gold in your mouth
Hat turned sideways
Pants hitting the ground
Call yourself a cool cat
Looking like a fool
I like this guy, but I don't like the song because basically it's old v. young, and I don't see any reason to play it that way, ever. Invariably it's the old soldiers -- or otherwise men who are past the point where they thought of themselves as men, past I'm saying an invisible line in their own heads about what constitutes virility and masculinity but which from where I'm standing has very little to do with either -- who absolutely cannot wait to tell you what the young men of today are lacking, and that's not only pathetic and sad but a huge reason the way our world is the way that it is.
On the other hand, he's toothless and silly and adorable and laughable, so maybe he gets to yell about pants. Maybe he's earned that. I just don't see how it helps.
The Judgery slowly realize that, while delightful, the song has no clearly defined endpoint, and basically stays pretty much in its defined lexical area. Not a lot of improvisation on the theme or surprise lyrics are forthcoming. He does the splits, does something not unlike what breakdancing would look like if you were basically infirm, and then some actually impressive moves once he can stand up again, and Ryan's there just loving it, they all are, and Simon's being adorable with the General, and Mary J is just fucking crying with laughter at this point, and they sing another round with him, and then it's basically over.
25 Golden Tickets: Cute Cop, Meth Mouth, a cute girl with bracelets, a willowy redhead, a giant dude, the General gets a tambourine, the braces girl from before, MJB and Simon joking privately about how she finally got pushed into meanness with some people, Randy singing with the General and Ryan watching the General do crunches while singing the pants song like a crazy person, the whole bullpen singing the pants song, Skii Bo Ski, an old lady yelling "Hollywood" like she just learned the word, Ryan blatantly ignoring Randy like a good boy, and we're done. It was a little bumpy in the middle but I think it got funnier toward the end. I'm satisfied with that. Some people like the America stuff, I guess.
So week, it's apparently one of the biggest crowds ever, in Chicago. So of course this episode had to be half-again as long with no real reason for it. A person maybe faints, and a guy screams like a baby, so look out for those things.
Actually, here's the whole shiz in one handy place: week is Chicago (Shania) and Orlando (Chenoweth). Then comes Dallas (Joe Jonas/NPH split an episode, which sucks because of less NPH) and LA (Katy Perry/Avril, which sucks in the opposite way), and then the last week it's Denver (Posh again) and the "Road To Hollywood" Special, which is where the real bughouse crazies, mental midgets, and ethnographic illustrations generally show up. Then comes two whole weeks of Hollywood, which I've learned will include at least a little bit of Ellen, so that's going to be nice. Hollywood Round and Ellen at the same time is pretty much perfect. But after tonight, I'm not sure I'll still be alive. This show is rocking right now.
If you can handle more insanity, look back at some of the most insane performances on this show. And then find out more about X-Factor and who we think could possibly replace Simon.