The Adorables -- Jasmine, Arianna Afsar, Casey Carlson, Megan Corkrey, Mishavonna's giant face, and Stevie Wright -- all make it through, so that's ten. They are going to be cancelling the eff out of each other if these ABC groups aren't carefully weighted, because they are all the same amount of cute and the same amount of whatever.
The polarizing Joanna Pacitti did well in her first audition, ate ass in Hollywood, and is now wearing sixty necklaces and a headband incorporating parts of dead animals, a Judge Dredd amount of bracelets, a leopard print belt... and tights. Which are still not pants. She is totally fakewad with the judges, but very pretty. Paula calls her "difficult" and found her tough to pin down. Joanna babbles at them, and Kara's like, "Why have you had so many record deals and chances at success, yet have ended up here like an asshole?" This makes her cry, of course. Simon takes her to task ("I guess she'll make it when somebody gives her a fucking break, Kara") and they put her through. She cries all duck-lippy, and is cute and sincere for five seconds. It doesn't last.
More nailbiting of people we don't, on the main, recognize, so who cares. Then TK Hash, flat-noted Chris Chatman, and ephemeral hottie we've never once seen before Reggie Beasley are gone.
Kendall Beard stresses majorly in the lovely gardens of the house, and we remember her Puerto Rico audition and her funereal suckiness in Hollywood. Paula calls her "commercial," but "boring," and she gets through (eleven!), notwithstanding her "Be Who You Are" t-shirt.
The girl of that kissing couple, whose bitter mister got kicked off in Hollywood (we see her singing lead on "Some Kind Of Wonderful"), is going to have a Motherfucking Singoff with Drama Ho Kristen. Jenn Korbee starts singing "Not Ready To Make Nice," and it's sort of hysterical and breathy. Damn, what a pretty girl! Not only because of Kristen am I rooting for her. Man, I could look at that girl for months. Outside, Kristen -- for whom I cannot say the same, cute and pied as she is -- figures out what's going on, and wigs.
Ryan spins the Nancy/Nate/Kristen thing as somehow making Kristen a martyr, instead of a willing participant, and she walks in acting all weird and brittle. Simon cuts through her babytalking stall tactics, and tells her to sing. She does a fairly spare, lovely "I Will Always Love You." It's awesome. Damn it! She clop-clops out of there in some kind of stripper heels, and Kara's like, "She looks like hell." Out on the couch, Kristen talks to Jenn all about how stressful this is... For her.
Simon asks if they want to keep the "very attractive blonde" or "the other one," making the crew laugh their asses off, and then decides to fuck with Kara and send her into the total tiresome Beauty Myth/Reviving Ophelia feminista rage about it, all, "Why not just only audition supermodels then, HUH?" He giggles and winks and loves it, because my God what a waste of time and energy for everybody. Randy says Kristen is the "obvious" choice, and Simon disagrees, and as usual: Simon is right. Because this is not a singing competition. Why does he have to explain this to every single Charlie Gordon in the universe every year? OBVIOUSLY Jenn is the better pick, regardless of Kristen's voice, because you are not selling MUSIC. However, you can fix the outside with a little elbow grease, and I think Kristen, schizoid image included, will get through.
Mostly it's just irritating, because the same shit happens every year, where the second Simon mentions the fact that people have eyeballs, all the junior-high insecurity of our entire country comes screaming out in the guise of high-handed anti-lookist pseudo-feminist Dove commercial claptrap. Jenn has a better chance of getting to the top than Kristen for the same reason that a performance of the Nutcracker starring Morgan Freeman as Clara would be an avant fucking garde ballet indeed. Big girls, weird-looking girls, cute but clueless girls like Kristen: they can do lots of things. But be packaged and sold as a consumer product? I'm going to go with the person who's demonstrating right in front of me that they can already do that on their own. That's a safer bet.
And it's some kind of risk-free, short-sighted self-righteousness that turns that around and makes it Simon's problem, just because he was smart and focused enough to remind everybody what the deal is. I cannot believe in a version of womanhood that puts first and foremost the search for things to feel offended and victimized by. I don't buy that. Especially when it's Kara DioGuardi, a Perfect Ten who would make it under the wire even if the music industry were only hiring supermodels -- WHICH HAS ALWAYS BEEN TRUE -- throwing the Ugly-Girl Fit on behalf of Ugly Girls Everywhere.
It's real easy to condescend and point fingers when your beauty greases the wheels for you every single day. Just like your intelligence, your general professionalism, your songwriting talent, and your shiny, shiny hair. And even if you don't understand that, if you have the self-respect to admit that you use, and are morally allowed to use, whatever advantages you have to get ahead? Have enough respect for everybody else to admit that the opposite is also true.
Mostly, stop acting like Simon invented the concept of commerce. Should the entire world act like they're blind, ignore thousands of years of primary and secondary sexual cues, turn off the parts of our brains that recognize beauty, symmetry and genetic compatibility? Purposefully lose the ability to read the fine-tuned invisible muscle movements by which we nonverbally communicate something like 87% of everything we're thinking and feeling, and by which we perceptually change physically ugly people to beautifully charming people (and vice versa) without our conscious knowledge? Completely retrain the parts of our brains that handle facial recognition, familial relationships, and social interaction? Sure. That sounds fucking awesome. And workable!
Or, to continue along the reductive, ridiculous path Kara has opened up for us, maybe we could all walk around with hockey masks on all the time, so nobody can judge us based on these hardwired, mammalian responses. And then we can get rid of money, and the exchange of currency for goods and services, because those are really unfair. And then if somebody's over six feet tall, we'll just take out little slices of their legs until they're regulation, because God forbid the short people feel oppressed. Or, we could grow the hell up, Kara and realize that when Simon tells somebody we've never met to work on her image, he's not actually calling us ugly. He's telling her how she can make some CASH, which is why we are all HERE.
(But: Oh shit, because that means Tatiana is going to get through, for the same reasons Jenn won't. I can't believe I just talked myself there, but she is! Reading this, you will know for sure -- and if I'm wrong, Ctrl-X is two fingers away -- but I bet you sixty dollars Tatiana del Toro gets through in the hour and a half. More than likely, right after the hour-break, if I know Fox. Quick, make a list of the ways in which Tatiana differs substantively from Constantine. I'll wait.)
Kara says Jenn doesn't always emotionally connect with the songs, and Paula explains that Kristen's horrible, schizoid appearance is a huge issue. Simon's like, "Quit with the makeover talk and get your asses there. Bring it home." Kara's like, "But isn't it interesting that Jenn is all about the appearance and Kristen is all about the talent?" And finally Simon's like, "Yeah, fuck everybody. Kristen, you're through. It makes me sick, but you're through. Do you understand that it makes me want to murder myself, but you're going through. Given the chance I would throw you in a volcano to save Jenn's shoes from getting wet, but con-fucking-gratulations, you are through. Though this desiccates what little validity our dog-and-pony show -- not to mention my life's meaning, professional career, or ability to achieve an erection -- ever retained, way to fucking go." Yep, that about covers it. I'm with you, Cowell.
Alexis, who is looking pretty fly despite her Punky Colors pink crap in her hair, cries in the garden, then makes thirteen. We emotionally segue from her baby to Blind Scott. Kara remembers how much better his audition would have been with a piano, and talks at length about his "relationship with [his] instrument," and we see him sing the DAUGHTRY last night. Then Kara puts him through. Fourteen. His mom wigs out and keeps backing away from him, which I imagine is weird for a blind dude.
Mother of three Lil Rounds is gorgeous and boring as ever, and sits down looking like a million bucks. Kara remembers her wondrous audition and how Simon fell in love instantly, and Randy had weird times in Hollywood with everything, and Simon tries to explain to her how bizarre this process is. She starts to get sort of intense, and Kara puts her through. Fifteen!
Dunzo: Strikingly pretty and winningly intense Felicia Barton; tired-looking Ashley Hollister (who gets an apology from Simon for wasting her time); super-pretty weirdo Devon Baldwin. They all come out and cry on their moms, and Devon says the word "horrible" thirty-seven times. SAHM Frankie Jordan wigs out in the crowd, and we remember her screwing up in Hollywood. She's like, "As a mom and an older woman, this is a rare opportunity. But I am okay at singing, that's nice." I like her. Oh, dammit! Motherfucking Singoff with Jesse Langseth. This is too bad. Then it gets easier: Frankie shits up the joint, and although there are aspects they liked, Simon's pretty clear she screwed up, all "well, you just made it easier on us." She wonders what he meant. I'm just happy to see Sarah Connor 1984-alike Jesse again. Who rocked out on both her audition and Hollywood solo, not that we saw them. I don't even remember why I like her, but I remember making a firm damn decision at some point.
Of course, she's got the Leslie Hunt thing happening, but that could go either way with me, so I don't think it's that. (Oh, and I got a copy of Leslie's new album, and it's freaking great. Not at all the jazzy blues thing what I was expecting -- it's uncategorizable and very original and fun -- but you can do anything with that voice, and then I've always liked her take on melody and lyrics, etc., so I wasn't surprised I liked it.) Frankie's like, "Fuck. She's singing good." She rocks them for awhile, enjoying herself overmuch, and Simon's like, "What a horrible song. Why?"
As Jesse's leaving, he tells the others he wants neither girl, at this point. They bring them in and Paula tells them they both picked shitty songs, but they have to pick one of them, so of course it's Jesse. Who at least sang the awful song well. Simon totally goes, "Frankie, if it's any consolation you wouldn't have won anyway." The judges jump us his ass, but his point is that Frankie is not missing out on some huge opportunity, because her awesomeness is not going to make her an Idol, and she gets real intense about how that's not in any way helpful. He informs Jesse that she also sucks, and will not last. When they come out, Frankie's crying and not interested in dealing with Jesse, and Jesse's like, "Um, I'm in. I guess." Frankie gives Jesse her propers, and then takes her babies and hits the...
WHAT? A Motherfucking Singoff with Jamar and Danny? For real? Just like I asked Santa for? And then Roughneck and Bear Porn also? This show is made of wishes and moonlight right now. The way things are going those dudes are gonna be giving Seacrest piggyback rides by the end of the night, and my life will be complete. This almost makes up for how I just figured out my Killers tickets were for last week and not week like I thought. What a bittersweet day this is turning out to be.
Fatal Flying Dunzoteens: Jane Austen-via-Target-shirted Shera Lawrence and evanescent hottie Derik Lavers. You're not going to believe this, but Nate flips out about it. Then there's purple-haired Allison Iraheta, whose audition was per Simon "at best a 6/10," but amped it up impressively ("Because Of You") in Hollywood. Kara reminds her of this, and asks what she thought about her Hollywood work: she was proud of it there. And, a tiny grin from Paula betrays, she's through. Another Kelly Clarkson song celebrates her step, as though we're being programmed to care about her. Everybody agrees that she's got raw natural talent, and then Kara says "Keep your eye on that girl" sixty times and Randy says how she's sixteen even more times than that. God, he loves to count more than anything. I wish anything made me as happy as that number always makes Randy Jackson.
Fucking Jamar and Danny. I am so very, very tired of them. It's not fair to them, it's not fair to Jamar being the Ed McMahon here, but most of all: not fair to me, because this guy is going to be on this show for a long-ass time and I need to pace myself. Hatred is a marathon, not a sprint. Danny sang some ridic song in Hollywood, remember? And you remembered that children are our future and Dolly Parton and whatever? Remember? "Can I do better?" he asks himself. History does not record his answer to the question he just asked himself. The judges bask in the loveliness of him, and he acts squirrely some more. Thank God he's cute. Eighteen.
A string quartet starts playing and Ryan talks about how "refined" Marilyn Mansion really is, so I'm guessing we're going to be dealing with Normund now. We remember all the assfaced clownish timewasting antics of weeks past for awhile, how he got on everybody's nerves and dedicated his song to Ryan Seacrest... Ryan's like, "Seriously, what are you doing here?" He turns all sincere... Or does he? He offers to be Paula's butler, or put on a bikini like Bikini Kill, and whatever, and then lets the judges know that he's Nick today. "Shtick's over now," Simon says. Which is cutely naïve in many ways.
Paula's like, "Basically, you are a ratings stunt and we get that. But you sort of suck without it, so whatever." Simon smiles apologetically while reminding Nick that his opinion has never changed, and Nick takes that in stride, because of course Simon finds him as offensive as any right-thinking person would. Nick says his two passions are singing, and assclowning, and Kara's like, "What are you, for real now? You're freaking me out." He babbles and stutters and tries to be a human being. It's real fucked up.
Nick asks if they'll let him -- okay, this is quite canny of him actually -- if they'll let him do the whole sweatband thing and continue to make Sanjaya look for real for real. He just honestly explains that what would be really fun for him would be to continue doing that shit on TV, and Paula's like, "That's what we're looking for." Simon gives him a hug, because wow: everybody just got on the same page at the same time with him, including him. My hate has just completely drained out of me; even Simon's like, "This is an experiment in the dark side, and I don't think it will pay off, but these bitches won't give." That's awesome. This season is even more about not giving a fuck than I thought it was.
Twenty-five, and somehow I'm pleased about this. Owning It is a dicey proposition, because sometimes -- like now -- you are owning bullshit, but occasionally it works anyway. I can't believe Fox is so bad at math that they're now actively courting VFTW so baldly, like, do these people honestly not understand how little the internet actually matters? Or is it just the fact of things now? When Marie Osmond dressed like that fucked-up doll on that dancing show, maybe everybody in the US of A simultaneously went VFTW and that's what the show is banking on? If so, well played.
New York native/currently of Silver Lake Jackie Whatever mugs and smirks and wiggles and giggles and tries her best to be fun and cute. Randy just thinks she's awesome, of course, and she acts obnoxious for awhile, and we see her play the guitar and sing "I Hope You Dance" flatly, and she is unanimously... Randy babbles long enough to piss Simon off... through, obviously. I think the way I feel about her is the way people felt about that Pregnant Katharine girl with the boobs that ended up singing about shoes. I finally get that. Twenty-six.
Much Tatiana footage and crying and acting like a dick, and then her awesome Hollywood audition. And honestly, think of a very successful sing-lady that's not a trainwreck. I mean, I don't want to spend a hot minute with Barbra, or Diana Ross, or Winehouse, or Whitney even though I do envy her crack-and-masturbation lifestyle, or... That's all the divas I can think of. I'm sure there are others, but I believe those are the main ones.
I'm not saying I support what's about to probably happen, but she can sing aight and she's a pretty girl when she's not doing weird shit, and the whole point about privacy is that it protects us, the audience, from having to deal with their shit. Wasn't Courtney Love just a little bit more awesome before MySpace was invented? Bad example, because her blogging has made her awesomer, but not in the way we're talking about exactly. I always thought the whole crazy/talented thing had to do with money, like, eventually you have just enough money that you get weird, but Tatiana is not hugely successful (despite her thirty jobs, which you may remember include "Assistant Directing") and yet is weird and awful in exactly the way that Paula Abdul -- conservatively seventeen hundred years Tatiana's senior, and rich enough to buy barely legal teens wholesale -- is weird and awful, so: chicken or egg? Maybe that's a legitimate path to fame: being batshit crazy. Better get started, then. I have been hampered by normalcy for far too long.
Tatiana shows Ryan her Paula-designed "reach for the stars" bling, and walks in shrieking her fucking ass off, sounding like Chicken Lady from Kids In The Hall right from jump, and Simon's like, "Jesus God." She keeps doing it, and flops around and acts like an asshole; Simon begs her to cut that shit out, and she agrees to try. Paula's happy about the bracelet, and Tatiana starts crying about how it was a sign from God when she saw it on QVC. Paula is so vacant and desperate to form any emotional connection to anything that she immediately starts crying. There's more to the depressing QVC story, but I will be goddamned if I write it down for you.
Simon smirks at them both, and Paula gives her the matching ring off her finger and hugs her, and Simon's like, "How generous is it of you to promote your jewelry on this show!" Paula's feelings are honestly hurt by this, and Kara sticks up for her. Randy goes, "This is not a psych-out," and then psychs her out: she's through. Simon almost starts crying with how offensive this is. He tells Tatiana Paula's going to shake her down for the ring later, which actually improves the tone of things, and Tatiana remembers to transform herself into a total fucking disaster on her way out of the room.
Ryan's like, "Here comes that crazy bitch now," she throws herself on him like Scarlett O'Hara, then starts screeching and laughing maniacally while climbing his entire tiny body. It is a sign of Ryan's innate professionalism that he doesn't throw her across the room like a giant screaming spider. Nate looks on in enough outright disgust to win back a few points with me. We remember, at some point, a situation in Hollywood where she was standing with Kai and Cody and a girl with bangs and goes, "This is for all the guys who said I would have to sleep with them to get my album made. This is for all of you!" All three of them are like, "Everytime you blow our minds we think you're done, and then before we can even pull ourselves together, you top yourself. That's amazing." The few people that are left are like, "Maybe I should just go home now, dude. I do not want to be around that girl for a single second longer." I bet that's why they kept her for the end, so less people on the premises would know what they did.
Jackie Midkiff is adorable, and they try to manufacture some kind of bromance between him and Nate Marshall, with whom he will be having a Motherfucking Singoff. On the one hand I present you with a talented, broad-shouldered young man whose hobbies include singing well and not sending out shockwaves of douche chills with every breath he takes. On the other hand, I present to you Nathaniel Marshall. Seems simple, even though we've never heard this kid sing before. Right? I mean, I would take absolutely anything over having to deal with the violent constant reality check that is Nate. Kara asks the panel why they're even making him Singoff with Nate, and they're like, "Just because he doesn't make you physically ill, Kara. Get real."
Nate walks through town in a pink headband and tells us his sob story about how his mom is in jail because she had a bad habit for drugs. He's basically floated around being homeless and weird his whole life, and then he walks in there wearing the tightest bright-red pants, weird hair, purple scarf, extra headband, stupid piercings, unflattering t-shirt, ugly tattoos, and complete cluelessness. I know he's talented, we've seen that he's talented, but he just... He short-circuits my kindness. There is something about him that makes me want to curb-stomp him and I cannot control it and I do not feel great about it, trust me. But holy balls, this kid.
Matt B's a welder and sang an awesome "Ain't No Sunshine" at his audition, but didn't impress Randy; Roughneck sang... Oh, who really cares. He sang it well, and then rocked Hollywood. Outside the judges' chambers, Matt explains to Ryan that not everybody can win this show, and Ryan shakes his paw and sends him in. Matt thought his Hollywood audition was better, although Simon disagreed; they have him sing again and he circles the room a couple of times before singing a pretty (if uncontrolled) version of something I don't know -- Simon asks why he chose it, and he says, "I love that song." Simon -- now lying sideways in his chair like a bored eight-year-old after the longest birthday party ever -- says under his breath, "I don't." Yikes.
Michael Sarver comes in, with his eleven dimples and his wife and child always in his head, and Kara asks him to sing something. He does awesome, of course, and throws in a wild falsetto run in the middle of it. Whatever, that was fly. He thanks them, "no matter what," and joins Matt and Ryan on the couch outside. Simon wonders if either of them have a shot at winning the show, and Paula wonders. Randy and Kara jump in for Michael, and Paula fights for Matt. They walk in with their arms around each other and sit in the Chairs. Paula then puts them both through, and they embrace manfully. It is awesome. Where the eff is Ryan Seacrest right now.
OMG, they totally run out and grab Ryan and lift him into their air, and then run downstairs together. Michael calls his wife, and she screams, and they hug some more. Then there's a pointless montage where we already know half the people and still don't know the other half, and we remember everything that ever happened in the world starting with the Bible, and whatever. It's like if you're selling puppies, you don't name all 36. You gotta weed that shit down a little bit. They show each of them sixty times and then try to fit all 36 of them on the screen but all you can see is Tatiana looking like a nutsack. And then they do us a solid I was not expecting: show us Group A. Awkward-Dancing to the Pussycat Dolls, but still. Man, I forgot all about the awkward dancing. I sincerely hope that Sarver isn't... There he is. Damn, that's harsh. Seeing him dancing like that.
Casey Carlson ducklips it up in a fedora, waving skinny arms like Stevie Nicks; Stephen Fowler flops around adorably in his big dumb scarfkerchief; Jackie Tohn unfortunately can do literally nothing at this point to make me stop hating her, but dancing around like a total asshole in a pornographically ugly ice-skater costume and New Balances shows a serious lack of commitment to that project; Ricky is hot in a mismatched three-piece suit and then make the ugliest face I've ever seen on a person; Anne Marie is self-conscious and adorable as usual; Brent Keith is obviously sex on wheels, but could really stand to tone down the b-boy bullshit, given that the Chris Richardson flashbacks are gross enough already; Alexis Grace drops it like it's hot and dances easily fifty times awesomer than you thought she would, weird faces notwithstanding; Roughneck does exactly what you thought he would, which is reinvent the wheel that is the Whiteboy Shuffle, taking it to toolish places you never knew existed; Stevie's moves are unpredictable and refreshingly relaxed, plus she can get her leg upside her head like a ballerina; Danny Gokey pulls out a baseball bat and some sandpaper, just to make sure his welcome is as worn out as possible; Tatiana is... Sasha Fierce; and Anoop, predictably, finishes us up with the to-be-expected Kevin G flashback... And we're done. Two freaking hours. Unforgivable.