Monday
But what's your sign? Due to that need for the contestants to say something about themselves before each song -- which would work if they were actually interesting -- the show resorts to the one thing they all have in common: they were born (mostly in May-June, strangely). Ryan is kicking the beltless look, Paula's hair is classic aprés-sex "rocker," and Simon and Randy are still totally defensive about last week, all "Kelly didn't get airplay!" and "Song choice doesn't matter if you sing it right!"
Scott, a Taurus, talks crazy and then sings the compelling and rich classic "Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch," with some weird-ass dancing and a minorly less startling appearance. Randy liked it, and then Paula and Simon get into a fight over whether jazz hands and limp hip-thrusts and a wheezing, lurching two-step constitute "choreography" in the classic sense, and then about whether it was good. I think tonight's episode happened at a very high elevation or something, like on K-2, because everybody seems really out of breath, Scott and Anthony particularly, although the alternate theory is that the two engage in some kind of Greco-Roman wrestling just before their performances. Or "chess," as they're calling it these days.
Bo, a Scorpio, has the grace to be ashamed of himself as he discusses his (surely producer-mandated) penchant for scorpion-like vengeance. Then he sings the greatest "Your Ideal Boyfriend Who's Kind of a Pussy" song of all time, "I'll Be." And I do like that song because it's beautiful and reminds me of my personal IBWKOAP, whom Sars told me never to mention again, but mostly because it attempts to be the most romantic song ever while incorporating the phrase "love suicide." Hilarious, misguided.
Just like A-Fed (a Taurus whose "determination" helped him learn English at some point in the ten years he's been in the U.S.), who sings Marc Anthony while wearing a cute outfit (which showcases the hole to the exclusion of being flattering) and wriggling uncomfortably. I swear at the end of the song he sings he will spend his money all night because he's glad that he's got me, and I don't like what that presumes about me. Randy and Paula tell a heap of white lies and then Simon mentions a litany of truths, including about the wiggles. Then Ryan and Anthony discuss the word "ass," and finally come clean about more "chess," this time with Travis. Don't think of an elephant.
Nikko (Taurus) starts yucky, but ends up sounding pretty great about halfway through -- it's really unbalanced and off-kilter, but the ending kills. Randy and Simon shove Paula into her chair, because she's wandered off again, and all three judges just love it all over the place. The problem? He sings "Georgia," which is so effing cynical that Simon congratulates him on his ghoulish audacity. Why not just sing a duet with Nat King Cole?
Travis (an Aries, like your humble recapper) has a voice that sucks right out the box, so it's all dancing, in this gray wool newsie outfit that's quite fetching. Turn off the sound and it might be the best of the night, as he sings "Every Little Step I Take," by one Bobby Brown. Yeah. And then beatboxes. Poorly. Simon calls it "appalling," and then Simon and Paula have an awesome fight about how sometimes shitty singers start out as dancer/choreographers and then get a record deal even though they're shitty singers and then maybe end up recording the song "Vibeology," which saved a young boy's life once. And that young boy? Was me.
Mario's confused and thinks we have really high expectations of him, which is a burden to him. I'm so sure, Mario. Your hair is a burden to me. He's been singing the "fun side" (read, "plastic cutesy bullshit"), but now he's going to sing the "serious side" or something (ibid.), but what's awesome is when he says that this choice "represents the duality of the Gemini." Jesus. He sings "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?" and is pretty much uneven the entire time and goes completely out of tune for large parts of the song. He goes all kinds of Guarini on me and his eyelids flutter like another personality is coming to the fore, which represents the duality of the crazy person. The judges line up on their knees to tell him lies of such magnitude that if I wrote them down this recaplet would have its own gravity and it would destroy your monitor.
Fucking Constantine frogging his lips out and promising to deliver the same high standard of vocal quality we've come to expect from him no matter what the Top 12 theme night. He's a Virgo, but the bitchy kind whose "perfectionism" and need to be "hard on themselves" is actually a free pass to be a dick to everybody else due to the huge stress of being them, while still doing nothing to correct their egregious behavior. So he sings "Every Little Step," And it's pitchy and unclear and warbling, but still the least objectionable thing Constantine has done to me personally, both vocally and how he looks away instead of staring, but mostly because the camera cuts away every time he threatens to get gross. The judges tell him it was his best so far, which is true, although it still doesn't explain why the hell he's here. Bitch can't sing!
Anwar, a Taurus, very earnestly sings the very earnest "What A Wonderful World." He's a little sharp, and too nasal for me, but he's got great control of that reedy voice, and by the time he gets to the glory notes he's much more clear and pretty. Randy calls it the best vocal of the season, "boy or girl or cat or dog," which I like to think of as a shout-out to me, and Paula says his voice is "truly his instrument" and not only that, but "an entire orchestra." (Woodwinds, mostly.) Then lots of ass-kissing, and Simon asks us politely to pretend Anwar likes girls.
Tuesday
Errata: I've been calling that Police song from Monday "Every Little Step," and singing it wrong, since I was little. I also tend to call the films Basic Instinct and Fatal Attraction either Fatal Instinct or Basic Attraction, and unless I watch myself, Maverick comes out High Stakes Gambling. The human mind is a curious thing. Viz.: Ryan and Simon kicking up the gay another notch or two, becoming fawning (Ryan) and abusive (Simon) and pretty dirty (both), and the judges now all have psychic mind powers.
As a Gemini, Amanda likes "lots of music" -- told you! -- but she's also "indecisive." She looks cute, all dressed for work at Hot Topic, but still can't sing for shit. The judges call the extreme hubris in singing "River Deep, Mountain High," even though they don't care about song choice, and Constantine and Anwar flirt all through the song because it's so boring they've turned gay. All of a sudden. Then Amanda likens their experience to being "soldiers in war," and then she climbs onto a giant papier-mâché Jesus on wheels and goes around careening all over the place before running over little A-Fed, who just cannot stay out of danger.
Janay, a Libra, enjoys "walks in the park, and candle-lit dinners, and going to the movies with your [sic] boyfriend." If you don't understand why that is totally the most awesome thing ever to occur on this show, I don't know what to say. She then sings basically the Jets song I requested, Selena's "Dreaming of You," and sounds crappy and looks crappy, but two times and ten times better, respectively, than last week, and then Randy tells her he counted five or six notes that were actually in tune.
Carrie is a Pisces, which is "kind of cool because I love to fish, but I never use live bait, and I always throw them back, because a Pisces is always compassionate and kind." So I stick a hook through her lip and drag her underwater with it, where she flops around for a while before she stops trying to breathe, and then I pull the hook out and throw her back on shore, where she lies for a while vomiting water and bleeding all over everything, because an Aries is also always compassionate and kind. She sings "Because You Loved Me," and it's boring and good and whatever, it's a Carrie song sung by Carrie, yuck, and the judges baby-talk for awhile and she tells Ryan she simply won't be taking part in the whole theme night thing, this year.
Vonzell, as a cowgirl, initiates some more Ryan/Simon flirting, and tells us that as a Pisces, she often spazzes out and floats away to dreamland. She sings "Respect" and doesn't duff it, which is nice, and a neat trick. The judges are nice to her, and she turns a Simon outfit insult into one of the biggest ovations of the night, explaining the hat and boots were gifts from her visiting father. Awesome. She's so great.
Nadia's hair is getting so huge, so fast, that it is red-shifting. She and Ryan discuss how she misses Celena, kind of but not really, and she has Capricorn "personality" and is an "ambitious go-getter." She sings "Try a Little Tenderness," which as we all know was written by Jon Cryer, and starts off sexy and jammy, and then there's a very exciting buildup to the Whole Nadia Thing, and then I don't know what happened because I woke up on the floor moments later. Then Ryan says she'd never really thought about the song before four days ago. God. She and Bo should just start a gang. Or a band, I guess. But I'd rather be in a gang with them. I'm going to need a lot more hair, though.
Lindsey is an Aquarius, which is "just wrong," because she's "not really unemotional." Girl, we know. Much bigger voice this week, singing "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" and I'm hoping they'll pull a Janice Javelin on her, all, "Why did you do an Aerosmith song? Stay true to yourself!" but I guess somebody filled them in ahead of time. She sounds pretty good, better than past weeks, and A-Fed screams. Then Ryan and Simon have hate sex, and it's so disturbing and involved that nobody remembers to talk about the singing.
Mikalah's a Capricorn, "shy, reserved, and hates attention." We get the comedy, dude. She sings "Somewhere" in her best Streisand, staring hypnotically into the camera -- nice to watch, but she kind of slaughters the song -- and there are lies told by Randy, bizarre ESP crap from Paula, and a monograph on "All The Things You Want In Your Divas, If You Are A Giant Flaming Streisand-Loving Homo," by Simon Cowell. Nothing of worth. Ryan points out that she's following the judges' directions, so basically they're criticizing themselves at this point.
Up last is Jessica Sierra, who tells Ryan that being told she has the best ("female") vocal is not all that relaxing, because "My teeth are jacked up and I am a little bit creepy-looking." Oh, that was me said that. She's a Scorpio, so last year she didn't make the cut but this year she's in the Top 16. Then she sings "The Boys Are Back In Town," but not the Patty Loveless one, or even the one by the Cardigans (or was it Bon Jovi? This is me jerking your chain), but in fact the totally awesome one from 48 Hrs., by the Busboys. She's very involved, very "performance" tonight, totally comfortable and natural, and it's clearly one of the top songs of the night. She's attending this prom, by the way, dressed as a prostitute from the Emerald City. So the judges freak out on her and then she only kind of gets Simon's comment about her outfit and how it was a good song choice -- in title, if not substance -- because both of the other songs by that name are about total whores. Oh, too complicated. It was a boob joke. : Results!
Wednesday
Mikalah is dressed like a common streetwalker to such an amazing degree I don't even hear half the stuff Ryan says. Seriously: mesh-lace sheer shirt thing with a pink tube top underneath. Giant pink Power Ranger boots. The rest of them are dressed relatively normally -- i.e., Nadia's wearing vanguard Haight-Ashbury circa 1967, Amanda and Lindsey are in their unmentionables, Scott's dressed like Fat Joe -- so I'm somewhat distracted, and start thinking about ellisbell's point in the spoilers thread about how this is one of the hardest weeks, odds-wise, because each person has a one in four chance of getting through, which of course won't happen again until the Final Four. Plus, Ryan's jacket matches my couch, like, exactly.
To review: Amanda missed every goddamn note except the yowling ones, Janay sucked marginally less, Vonzell ruled, Mikalah "toned it down," I guess, Nadia gave me a vascular event, Lindsey : Ryan Seacrest :: Constantine : Dunkleman, and Jessica's giant breasts totally rocked it Eddie Murphy style.
Bo took on a bit of the old Constantine enunciation affectation, Travis rocked the newsboy with some crappy beat-boxing, Scott gave an "amateurish performance," and A-Fed had "as much Latin flair as a polar bear." Paula simply couldn't imagine a Top 12 without Nikko in it, although America apparently could, Mario -- who also has the Latin flair of a polar bear, frankly -- gave Paula goosebumps, Constantine was fucking nasty, and Anwar looked great and sang beautifully and boringly, and gamely pretended he would ever fuck Paula Abdul. "What have your votes done?" asked Ryan, and dude, I said "effing Constantine" out loud right then. I had a premonition.
Mario and Lindsey, and Anthony and Vonzell, come downstage to their pre-assigned positions around Ryan, and they're all in, and everybody hugs everybody else and Mario pushes Lindsey out the way to hug A-Fed, who then in a very cool and cute and weird old-man fashion helps the ladies to their predetermined seats. Carrie gets through and acts all irritating farm-girl-shocked that Ryan dicked her around for a second, and Nadia gets into the Top 12 and is so "excited" she forgets to thank God and is struck by lightning, but it's okay because she's grounded by her electricity-conductive hair and utterly fucked-up outfit.
Ryan calls Constantine and Bo "the rockers" and summons them down to the Seal after promising one of them is going home, but then something happens. Something I'm not proud of. Something that I feel bad about. Something involving Constantine. He's wearing a Justin Guarini t-shirt under his leather jacket, and before I can contain myself, I yelp out aloud -- alone in my house, okay -- "That is so fucking cool." And then I clamp my jaws down around my tongue and pray nobody heard me, but I'm telling you because we're friends.
So of course they're both through and the judges are very happy with the first eight, although Simon looks bored as hell, and there are four spaces left, and then there's an O.C. commercial I've only seen like a hundred times, and the Darth Vader movie, so I have to watch those commercials, but then MAN! Mikalah looks like ASS.
Of Travis, Scott, Nikko in an Alicia Keys hat, and Anwar smiling beatifically, who will get through ? It's going to be Anwar, out of those guys, because Travis is clearly out, and Anwar is more of a bye than Nikko is. Yeah, he gets through and prays a whole bunch, and Mikalah and Jessica discuss it all. (I'm telling you, keep those two apart or you will regret it.) Carrie fake smiles, and somehow in my head this means that Jessica will be the one through because -- out of Jessica, Mikalah, Amanda, and Janay -- of those four, she's the Anwar. This is fun. I'm also really good at telling the order the girls will get their photos on America's Top Model, too. I don't know why. But if Jessica = Anwar, then Mikalah = Scott, which means I know the whole Top 12, but also means: GROSS! Except I don't know who it's gross for.
Of the three remaining guys, Randy says, "I think it would have to be Scâ¦uh, between Scott and Nikko." Dude, the judges totally already know. This is gay. Paula, even though not 48 hours ago (not to mention clipped again tonight) she said she couldn't "imagine" a Top 12 without Nikko, starts going all "I love all my children the exact same amount" because she can't say Nikko, because she already effing knows. All Simon knows is that Travis is going home. Heh. So it's Scott, like I said, who goes all God some more, and Mikalah licks her lips, sizing him up. Travis, you're hot. Nikko, that BITES. Constantine totally took your spot. God.
Mikalah still looks freaking gorgeous in the face, but yikes. Randy says that of the three, Mikalah is still his favorite. "America voted, Randy mentions Mikalah," says Ryan. Duh, it's totally her. All three judges clap as she freaks for a split second but then immediately turns to Amanda and Janay to hug them. Amanda looks destroyed and old, Janay gives one more terrified, horrified look at the camera, and then all Top 12 dance around like assholes, reminding us what's in store on "The Road Ahead," which is: more.
Monday
We're live again. Why? Ryan really hopes you're "ready for the first of your three fixes this week," because even though last week he understood that even two hours of this crap is glut-market supererogatory whoredom, this week he's a pusher. Like we just need this show so goddamn bad that we're rolling around in front of the screen begging Ryan for the "first of our three fixes this week" like a narcoleptic River Phoenix all, "Ryan, just let me owe you a date, I promise I'm good for it." Whatever will we do, Ryan, when we return to the usual format week? Will you give us more pointless "specials" full of filler and stuff we've already seen and more bad auditions that Jacob will not be recapping or even watching? Say you'll fill our endless AI-less days somehow.
There are more truly unflattering stills of Joe, David, Celena, and Aloha, and Ryan gives us the okay to say, "Awwww." I guess people are holding back because, of those four, only David had any advance publicity on the show whatsoever, and his voice was so good but he was so boring we all fell asleep like little babies whenever he was onscreen, so the audience is just trying to figure out who they're looking at before they commence to mourning. But Ryan tells them it's okay to "Awwww" so they "Awwww" but it means less because it's Ryan telling them to do it. So, Ryan asks, "Will the winner be a guy? Or! Will we have another 'girl' Idol?" Then he calls the judges "guys," too.
Paula looks very aprés-sex with some messed up "rocker" hair; Simon thought last week's results were fair, and then he bitches for awhile all about how Kelly didn't have a whole lot of airtime, so he's gotta take all kinds of umbrage at all these sore losers pointing out the ridiculous amount of time we've spent on people who are still in the competition, versus people who have not, and are being picked off one by one. I guess we're short for time, though, because he doesn't get to tell the other part, which is that Kelly wasn't competing in a season that had over a month of audition shows twice a week highlighting various performers before the semifinals even started, with the express purpose, reported all over the entertainment media, of engendering sympathy and fan bases from the get-go. He didn't have time to say that part.
He does, however, have time to insult your intelligence and mine by superciliously suggesting that perhaps Joe and Melinda were confused and thought the voting was on whether or not the people had appeared on television at any time. That's the joke. The other part of the joke is that he flogs the this is a singing competition horse some more, as if that were true. As if the power-voting teens have ever taken that into consideration. As if Mario would be here if that were the case. As if he weren't about to say himself, for at least the sixteenth time, that it's in fact not a singing competition, it's a packaging and marketability competition, and in fact it started two months ago, before anybody knew whether they were involved or not, and that's what dictated the whole airtime thing to begin with.
Then Randy flip-flops back again (AGAIN! SOME MORE!) about how song choice doesn't matter, how you should just sing the song, and sing it well. Which yeah, that would be preferable, but you've been very vocal about the fact that you're not really looking for a good singer, you're looking for a pigeonhole-able product puppet, which implies a niche -- which means "dog house," colloquially -- which means an image you've created, which means song choice is central, and you will get bitched out for it if they don't feel that the song you've chosen reflects the incredibly one-dimensional idea they've decided to create and abet for you. And the point where that's going to hurt the worst is when they've got Carrie in her little box, and then they start poking her with a stick about how she has no "versatility," and that'll be ugly. And if they decide Constantine's a better option, they're going to pull that bullshit on Bo Bice, too. Randy makes reference to the last four winners-plus-Clay, saying that whatever the song was, they just sang it. Not that any of the four of them popped onto the scene fully equipped with friendly edgeless soundbite-sized histories, personas, and charming adversities they'd overcome with pluck and spirit, or anything like that.
Then the bullshit goes into overdrive, because this week we're "looking to the sky for inspiration," right, and we're going to find out what the "stars" say about each of the contestants. Carrie's like, "You mean celebrities?" Because she's been burned by that fast one before. This is a bad bit from, like, Austin Powers, and it's weirdly incongruent because the whole rusty cheesy thirty-year-old "what's your sign" deal is all about making your anonymous sex just a little bit less anonymous, by categorizing the person you're about to screw into one of twelve predetermined personality traits. Oh wait, that's exactly what they're doing.
Scott's a Taurus, which he feels means he's got a certain "determination to get through and go to the top without anybody stopping" him, and somehow "the only thing that'll stop me is myself, if I come without my hundred percent." Then he proves his point by singing "Can't Help Myself," a song that is so hoary with overused meaningless sentimentalism it can't help but deduct from that hundred percent, but is at least safe and uninteresting enough that all you have to notice is his wonderful voice. If you ever call me "Sugar Pie" or "Honey Bunch" rest assured I will bring my full hundred percent in response. But I don't know, because the lack of personality of the song will maybe distract you from Scott's own icky personality and affect, or lack thereof. He looks much more professional this week, wearing some kind of suit, and doing some strange Commodores dancing with his hands all in the air. He shaved, I think, so that's good. He loses his breath, a lot, and for the first time seems to be stretching for some notes, like he's nervous about something. When Scott sings intensely about love, I feel that I might be chopped up and left for Mariska Hargitay to find. He gets some rhythm at some point toward the end, and snaps his fingers and gestures at the judges. It's…weird. Simon can't even look. He goes for this one note at the end, and flubs it miserably, then drops the last word too. I get kind of worried he's going to grab his left arm and go down. We're live.
The crowd goes wild, because he's still one of the best singers even with all the issues, and he looks totally crazy, still. Randy tells Scott he loves how he "came out having fun" and "showed his personality for the first time." Nadia and Carrie discuss, and perhaps it is nice but perhaps it is mean. I don't know. Paula tells him he did a "good job" and she "liked the choreography." I think that "choreography" is kind of a stretch for what he was doing, but hey, she's the expert. Simon takes it all as an object lesson for them all to "do something you're good at doing," because the dancing was "horrendous." The judges get into a little fight about it, and he starts yelling at Randy all, "Can I finish?" He likens it to an "amateur performance at a party," and considering that Scott's voice is a gift he never earned, I think, this isn't too far off the mark. Scott defends him weakly to the other judges, saying Simon's "got his opinion." Ryan asks why Scott went back to a song that he originally sang in "Hollywood," and Scott gives the sensible answer that it was intended to "show more power" in his voice, and continues on to say that this is their last chance to show people what they've got, if they're eliminated this week. Ryan asks if he was confident, and Scott replies that he still is. Good answers all, Crazy Horse.
After commercial, there's more Scott looking nuts, and Ryan hanging on the couch with Mario and Nikko and Mario's stupid hair. He's asking them whether or not it's a good thing when the judges are nice. Mario replies that it's both, but for the not very canny or intelligent reasons that it's both what you want to hear, and gives you an added burden of expectation. Which, I understand the concept here, and I guess he's right, but it really just shows how hermetic this little environment of theirs is: to the contestants, the judges' opinions are some of the only feedback they get, so to Mario, the judges represent the real world, and therefore, us. Now, just because the judges say they expect a lot from him because he's set the bar so terribly high, that doesn't mean that those things are true for us -- or in fact true at all. Because none of those things are actually true.
Nikko doesn't want to talk about whether he's nervous; he just shows up and tries to stay focused. He reminds us that it's really up to "America," and I don't really like it when they say that either, because it comes off unctuous and abdicatory. I'd rather hear Scott talking about his hundred percent than anybody trying to charm America by saying how they did their best but hey, it's in our hands. Ryan stares into the camera and says "the pressure" is now on us. Can you feel it, baby? Yeah, I can too.
Bo is a pacifist, but he's also a Scorpio, so lest we mistake his "kindness for weakness," we should remember that if you mess with a scorpion, you will get stung. I like Bo, a lot, and that's why I am embarrassed for him right now, because that is some backwoods stoner survivalist shit right there, and I know they made him say that. They must have. It's very "rocker." Also, the hair: I don't like long hair on guys, but I really don't like uncared-for hair, on anybody. The effect that you are creating is that you've somehow traveled here into the future from the film Singles, which I didn't like in the first place. On the other hand, he sings the ultimate Coldplay-style perfect-guy dickless love song, "I'll Be," which I will always love, and he starts strong, as usual, but is a bit more affected than previously, kind of slinging his rocker hair all around. Remember Aaron (W.) Kelly? Kind of like that. Silly. Self-conscious. He's smiling, which is unfortunate, but besides that and the hair, he generally looks really nice. He drops a line here and there, and gets all screamy on the power notes, but the good kind of screamy. It is beautiful. I like him all soulful, and I totally dig the mullet-free song choice.
The number one issue tonight, besides the apparent fact that they're filming this week at a high altitude, or something else is inhibiting their oxygen intake, is the completely inept camera work. During the more intense "I'm singing just to you" portions of the song, we go to a split screen, and jumping from shot to shot, but for some reason Bo doesn't understand that this is the case, so he keeps singing in a very heartfelt and loving manner to the wrong camera, so we keep getting a profile of him singing this love song to empty space, or like, some other girl. And he's really throwing it in there, giving his all, and it's very romantic, I guess, from what I can tell, but it deeply undercuts the power of what he thinks he's doing because he's doing it to the wrong place. Like the Love Song of Mr. Magoo. I don't know if that's because he doesn't know how to tell into which camera he is supposed to be singing or what, but it's confusing and weird. Later on, Constantine will have the same issue, but I won't have the same problem -- connecting with the performance -- because I don't wish to connect with Constantine, I simply wish him ill.
Randy digs how Bo tried to "switch it up" and "go a little softer" and sing a "little Edwin McCain kind of joint." Which is the kind of thing I like to hear Randy say. If old Edwin were indeed watching tonight -- I picture him with like a big dog at his feet and a big blanket over his legs, on a porch, rolling his own cigarettes -- he'd giggle himself senseless. Bo started shaky -- in terms of just notes and not entire bars, like the rest of the guys -- but Randy likes how in "the middle of your voice, you've got the gruff, that growl." I like that too. I might have put it differently, but whatever. Paula thinks it was another consistent slam dunk, and then talks about how Edwin, a "huge fan," watches the show and would be proud. Simon agrees with Paula and the crowd freaks out three times, once legitimately because they like Bo, once because Simon approves of something, and once because Simon agreed with Paula. Hey, show? The line is fine, w/r/t self-parody.
"You could have a hit record with that," says Simon. "Right now I think it's your competition to lose, I really do." Wow. That's pretty cool. I don't know about the people out there in the world who aren't me, but I take Simon's criticism seriously. Probably because I agree with him the majority of the time, so I assume that he's smart. There's a life lesson in there for me, somewhere. Bo's pants are tighter than Ryan's, for once. He dresses very distinctively. Bo loves Edwin McCain, and there's some story here we don't get the whole of, but he promised his uncle he would sing this song, for his aunt, who is I assume deceased from the tenor of the story, and he and Ryan joke that he has sung this song at many weddings. When he's smiling, it's gross. When he laughs, he's beautiful. It's bizarre and confusing, but you know, he's such a pro. I just really like him.
A-Fed is a Taurus, who came here from the Ukraine at age nine and did not speak English, but a Taurus is persistent, so he learned English (at some point in the last ten years, so score one for Taurus persistence), and now he's "singing in English, speaking in English, and happy to do it." That accent really comes and goes. I love how this follows the classic Fedorov pattern: he couldn't do X thing, but then he could somehow do X thing, so now he does X thing, like, all the time. He's constantly amazed by his ability to do things each of us takes utterly for granted. That's an exciting way to live. I would like to have lunch with him: "I used to really hate eggs, and the doctors said I would never successfully enjoy a Denver omelet, but now here I am eating one, and I am happy to do it."
There's lots of product in that hair tonight, and he's wearing a pretty cool outfit, although still with the hole. He's trying to be sassy, I guess. I don't know what that's about but it's quite wiggly. I don't know this song, it's boring, and he's dancing around like The Littlest Stripper. I heard this story once many years ago about a strip club somewhere above L.A. where all the strippers looked exactly like Keanu Reeves, like they were girls who looked just like Keanu Reeves, and all the L.A. businessmen of complex sexuality would go to this club to get lap dances from lady Keanu Reeves look-alikes, and it was called "Naked Keanu." I think about that constantly, even to this day. It doesn't really have anything to do with Anthony Fedorov, or American Idol, really, like I can't even make it into this overarching pseudo-philosophical human-interest thing like usual because it just makes my brain stop working, but I think about it, like, all the time, Naked Keanu qua Naked Keanu, and anyway I needed to share the information with you.
So…I guess this is a Marc Anthony song. Where was I when Marc Anthony was amassing these hits upon hits? Why is he this household name? A-Fed also has the problem like Scott of not so much breathing enough -- he drops the ends of phrases and seems generally to be ahead of himself, physically. There's one particular power note that is just lovely, but the softer notes are a uniform, sketchy breathless. Maybe they moved the Red Room to very far away and made them sprint. Maybe there's a tunnel like on Voltron or Mortal Kombat. The Girl Pound all sit down when he's done, looking bored.
"You're finally back," marvels Randy. "The power in your voice…this is the best you've done since we saw you." Paula disagrees, and then says the exact same thing. "You are brand new, excellent." This is lies. He's been consistently this good, and this vanilla. I like it and all, but don't call it a silk purse all of a sudden. The lies and deception continue, and then Simon comes in for the slam dunk: "The problem I have is that you're a nice guy. You remind me a bit of Clay [DRINK!], you're sweet. But you singing a Latin -- Marc Anthony -- song is a bit odd. You have as much Latin flair as a polar bear. You're not that. You're nice. I just thought it looked uncomfortable, with the wiggles, like when Clay did that horrible thing from Grease." That's comedy, right there.
Randy is forced back to kindergarten with her at this point, and allows her the "point" that yeah, they knew he could sing, but he hasn't been showing his full range. Way to frigging advocate, Abdul. The she takes it further: "I'm glad you're not hiding it anymore. I can't imagine the Top 12 without you in it." Word, but also: mixed signals much? Thanks for just openly calling him a loser, and then hoping for the best. Simon does the same thing more obliquely, and is cooler about it, of course, all, "You needed to do that." Then he mentions the creepy Natalie Cole elephant in the room, how in this of all years that was about the most cynical choice he could've picked in the entire catalog of all songs ever sung. Not to mention the fact that he's from St. Louis, which, I'm not a geographical wunderkind, but, like, I think they're in different regions of the country. So then Ryan…says all that, basically. (Well, the geography stuff. Once Simon Cowell congratulates someone on being manipulative and creepy, you kind of don't want to sit there anymore.) Nikko gives some kind of dog/homework thing about how he was in fact singing about St. Louis, so like "Georgia" was a code word, because he identifies with the feeling of the song, because that's how he feels about St. Louis. What a deep and affecting sentiment: St. Louis, do not despair! You are "on" his "mind"! ["Never mind the fact that there are, seriously, at least five standards that are about or at least mention St. Louis itself. Maybe they weren't on the approved list, but…shut up, kind of, Nikko." -- Sars]
Fucking Constantine frogging his lips and engaging in some meaningless and completely untrue badinage with Seacrest about how the guys from that band call him every week and criticize his performance. I think this is the first shout-out to his band by name. Altogether, the guys have been amazingly supportive. I love how the narrative to this point, as lately as last week, is that he's screwed those guys over so effectively that they may not even know that he's on the show or if he's still alive, that's how traitorous he's been to them, and that's just how out of his element he is in this atmosphere, because the band, and he, are so frigging cred that it's like they're in totally separate worlds from the AI that we watch and love, but now all of a sudden they're all just these hipsters that have given up drugs and tune in to this stupid show all eighteen times a week that it's on so they can tell Constantine how believable and hardcore his fucked-up pronunciations of simple words and sleazy eye-molestations are, and how they really support him and they hope he can get through to the Top 12 so they can just never, ever tour again.
Ryan points out that if he does make it, he'll have to take part in theme nights. I call such extreme bullshit. There are at least three other singers for whom this is an actual consideration (I love Bo, but come on), but we're going to go ahead and ask effing Constantine, who sang "Kiss From A Rose" last week, if his intense real reality and rock-star cred will possibly be able to survive Barry Manilow Night. You know who gets questions like this? "Rockers." You know who should be expected to fucking display adaptability? Theatre performance majors. What-EVER, Lestat! You are the Lizard King, are you not? You can do anything! There's like five rock operas in the history of Broadway, and all of them are as gay or slightly gayer than Seal. If he can't handle "Big Band" night, then not only is he not suited to American Idol, but he is also not suited to his chosen career, which is musical theatre. And bitch can't sing, so, like, you do the math.
Travis is an Aries -- why doesn't he rule? -- and that gives him confidence. Good deal, since it's all he's got. His voice sucks right out the box, of course, so it's all dancing. I mean, of course, he looks really great, dressed like a Newsie and bouncing all around. Turn off the sound and it might be the best of the night. "Every Little Step I Take," is what he's singing. The Bobby Brown tune. For real. He sings along sometimes with the backup track, kind of under his breath like he can't remember if he's supposed to sing at these parts or not. It's awesome and I don't think he ever really remembers when to sing and not sing, but to be honest he doesn't have much time to really level out there, because soon it is time for some substandard beatboxing. You guys! He's the purest pop idol in this competition, as of right now. He's like J. Lo! He can do everything! With mediocrity! (Except be hot and dance around. He's exceedingly talented in those areas. Whoa, just like J. Lo again! Is he J. Lo?)
The girls freak out, legitimately. On "performance," Randy gives him an "A." On pitch, "I gotta give you like a D. The first half of that song you weren't even in key, and then on the bridge you were still off." So even though it was actually painful to listen to, he still averages a passing grade. I guess I'm being a hypocrite, though, because that's exactly how I feel about Britney Spears: painful to listen to, wonderful to experience. Well, I may have to revise that now -- I haven't really given thought to her report card since before all the things started happening to her. I really liked that last album, is all. I was excited when it did so well. Paula tells Randy that it wasn't as bad as he thinks, which automatically means it's twice as bad as he thinks. She tells Travis she thinks he's "pretty special," and everybody claps -- Nadia very politely indeed -- because it's really the most emphatic thing you can say about Travis (without getting bleeped). He's "pretty special," there is "something about him." Paula repeats over and over that he is "unique to the competition," which, I don't know what that means no matter how many times you say it, Paula, and then she says that that's "important." Not what it means or whether it means anything, really, just that it's important. Travis then makes a cute sad face as Simon tells him the actual truth, which is that it was appalling, and the other judges bitch, and Amanda and Lindsey just look confused.
Simon calls it "as good or as bad as you would get in a theme park," and calls him "a dancer first and a vocalist second." I cross my fingers, praying that Paula will finally confirm just how far up her ass she actually lives by taking issue with this. SHE DOES! It's so awesome. Can you even freaking imagine the internal warpage going on where she would speak up even for a second in this circumstance? If I were her I would have pulled out, like, camouflage and face paint and tried to melt stealthily into the background so nobody would notice me and my shame. But no, she's all, "There is nothing embarrassing about being a choreographer/dancer turned shitty singer and dancing in a junkyard with a cartoon bobcat or a fox or whatever," and Simon gets all my love back with interest when completely off the cuff he goes, "That's not surprising." It's delicious. Then Travis heeds my advice and doesn't act the fool at all, because he knows he just bit it, and asks America to help him out just this one time.
Mario's a Gemini, so maybe the ladies have a chance after all, but he says this means that he's been singing "the fun side," and now will "sing the serious side," and it's pretty great when he tells us that this "represents the duality of the Gemini." He's all thinky tonight. He sings "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?" and it's totally sharp and he's such a boy-bander, and there's a pretty ugly slip into falsetto, and, like, he totally looks up at the nonexistent rain, and goes all kinds of Guarini on me. His eyelids flutter like another personality is coming to the fore, and this represents the duality of the crazy person. He is TERRIBLY OUT OF TUNE. His voice is so high! So how can he be fucking up the high notes? He looks dreamily at the ceiling. It's ridiculous.
Some audience members hold up "MARIO" letters and he giggles, and then Randy says he "liked" him, "man," and calls the choice "very ambitious," and lies that he "sang it really well," and then I don't know what it means when he congratulates Mario on "taking his time." They bond over how weird it is that Mario has a Dawg Pound of his very own, just for him, and then Paula gets all yackity-yack about how she got goosebumps because it's so tender and nice and she likes ballads and remembers one time when he sang a ballad. Back in Hollywood. Where they are. It's awesome because he has to help her out with remembering where that happened. "Hollywood?"
Simon's just about as bored by this as he can be, all, "It's interesting to…see you with no hat? And singing ballads? It's like when you meet your daughter's boyfriend -- you look smart and nice." Not to mention an entire apocalypse of non-threatening. Simon says he's a bad singer, but charming, and will "sail through" because the only thing Simon has more contempt for than Paula? Is America. Specifically the voting of America. But I feel at this point like you vote in the contestant that you deserve, so I no longer care who wins. Paula disagrees with this, because she was actually born without the gland that governs PR, so she thinks she's protesting that Mario is really talented, but basically ends up actually seeming like she just doesn't find him that charming. Simon gives the backhanded encouragement that he has "other things" going for him. Like his Lilliputian portability and his ability to wear nearly any old hat on his head without feeling dumb.
Constantine's a Virgo, meaning apparently that he's very hard on himself, and overcritical, and expects "great things" from himself. Is it a Virgo trait to be completely without shred one of self-awareness? Because he just described an admirable person, but if he's aiming for perfection and this is how far he's getting? That's just so sad. It's like the unanswerable job interview questions, like, "What's your greatest weakness?" And Constantine's all, "I demand too much of myself. My perfection stresses me out." But he can't even work the fax machine. Then he sings "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic," and it's unclear and pitchy and warbling and stupid, but the "best" thing he's done, technically. I don't hate this. I DON'T HATE THIS. WHAT THE FUCK…oh, there it is. Whew. That was a good ten seconds, baby.
So he's back to sounding like hell with the unsexy faces where he looks at his shoes and gets it all over me. Gross. He thrashes around with the mic stand, as usual, but he does remember to actually look away from the camera sometimes, which has a de facto marginal benefit despite itself, because it means that mathematically this tonight is the least objectionable thing he has ever done to me. The camera keeps cutting away before he gets too gross, and at one point there's something like a genuine smile at the camera that isn't filthy and affected and all ersatz-sexual. That was the least horrible thing I've seen from him, but that doesn't really mean a whole lot.
Randy calls it a "great, great song" for him, and praises him for actually singing in tune for once, and then Paula screams her stupid ass off about "yes!" and "yay!" and "yeah!" and not a hell of a lot else. Constantine is amazed at all the praise, showing he's got at least one working synapse in the way of reality still sparking. "Your charisma keeps shining through," she lies further, "and you have this magical thing about you." He literally gets tears in his eyes, because this is the first time he's ever received positive attention in his life. Maybe that's why he's so weakly arrogant: he has been having to provide this encouragement for himself all along. Simon stares at Paula like she just pissed in her chair, which she kind of did, and she giggles like a moron. Simon calls it a bad impersonation of Sting, and the judges freak out on him, and I kind of do too, because that's dumb. That's just a dumb critique. Call it a bad impersonation of singing, or of adult sexuality, but don't call him out for not impersonating something he wasn't actually even impersonating. I'm sure he would consider it totally demeaning to try to impersonate anyone, because music is his only lover or something. They yell at each other and Simon's all, "You guys have lost the plot!" and Randy's like, "With respect, you've lost the plot." There is no plot here, people. Just a picaresque journey into horror.
Ryan looks so very wee to Constantine, who right now this very second is not that gross. He grabs the mic stand as he's going offstage, like Goofy working as a janitor all "The World Owes Me A Livin'," and it's pretty toolish and not a problem. I'm not in this game to hate you, buddy, I'm here whether you are or not, and I don't really care. But you could make it easy on me by acting like the dork you actually are, instead of the greasy date rapist you seem to think you ought to be. Plus, wearing a Justin Guarini shirt on Wednesday is about the only thing you could have done to make me hate you one iota less, especially when it's even cooler because it's the wrong size and keeps riding up over your pot belly, so it's this totally cool artsy idea that you didn't have the Virgo Power to fully pull off. And that's the kind of thing I am talking about, because it's cute and stupid-puppy-like, and that's the only angle you can legitimately work. You know what, I'm heading into that territory where I start saying the things that made me stop hating Mikalah, though, so I'd better stop. Constantine's that theatre guy that graduated a couple of years ahead of you, okay, but he still comes to the parties? And he hits on every freshman that walks by, boys, girls, whatever, because he's desperately in need of attention but nobody will date him, and in his head he's Matthew McConaughey in that pothead movie where they fry like bacon, but in the real world he's just…Matthew McConaughey. Whew, I feel better.
Anwar is a Taurus, just like everyone, apparently. This means that he "chooses his target" and "goes after that with full force." I guess so, buddy. Are we talking about like, antiques? The perfect latte? A truly butter-soft lambskin-lined coat? He sings "What A Wonderful World." Earnest. God. He goes for the cheese with "full force." His hair's tied back and looks really cool, and he's singing into the camera with this beatific smile, like a preacher or something. So, since like before I could speak, I found this song incredibly depressing. This one, and "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da," and "Superstar," "He Needs Me" from Popeye and "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop Of Horrors, a couple of others, they've all made me cry since I was tiny. If this song comes on, like, a commercial, I will change the channel, because it just makes me really, really sad. But luckily, Anwar is some kind of music expert, of course, so he's arranged it precisely in such a way that whatever tonal thing it's got going on that normally makes me want to cry is gone, and it sounds great, all changed up but classic-sounding.
It's reedy, this Anwar's voice, not the kind of voice I actually like, so much. It's kind of piercing and hard to listen to because he's powering it, and at the same time it's so nasal and high. Didn't we establish that he's a baritone? He finally hits the glory spot, such as it is, and it's a lot more clear and pretty, and honestly, I don't like the sound of his voice, but he has such great control of it, and I really like watching people do things that they are good at, even when I don't like the end product. He's just not sassy, so he can't be all crazy, which makes the total effect kind of boring for me no matter how very much I admire it, and him. Janay stares at him like she just lost her eyesight, but I don't know what's going on there.
Crazy Randy talk: "Yo dawg I don't give it up, I try to keep it most real, but I've got to give it up. That's the best vocal I've heard this season, boy or girl." I love how he's keeping things "most real" this year. It's so awesome and free of meaning. I'm totally going to keep things "most real" like, all the time. From now on. Paula tells him that his voice is "truly his instrument" and also at the same time it is "an entire orchestra." Woodwinds, mostly. "You breathe new life into each of these songs." Good point to be found there, in terms of taking these performances as a whole. I agree that he's by far the most technically proficient, in a way that makes the rest of them look like fuckups. A whole album of his covers, I might buy, but only because he's such an incredibly smart musician. If you could take the balls and passion and awesomeness of Bo Bice and give them the history and the hotness and the creativity and power of Anwar, you'd have a like T-1000 of an Idol. Simon calls him "everything a music teacher should be," because he has a great voice and is very "nice." He is very soothing to deal with, that is true.
I think Simon's just totally trying to emasculate him here, though, because he starts talking about how there could be, like, puppies onstage whenever Anwar's singing. Like that is a bad thing. Randy, because it's one of the words he knows, blurts, "Dogs." Simon's like, no, you're not getting it: "Little puppies." He goes on to say that he thinks Anwar is very genuine and wouldn't be changed by any success, and then suggests out of far left field that Anwar and Paula should wed and produce very nice children, which proves he's trying to be mean because he hates Paula, but also proves that he can't tell or I guess handle the fact that Anwar is gloriously, beautifully gay. The kind of gay that people should aspire to be: smart, kind, good at a craft, hot, well-dressed, unassuming, pleasant and cool and at ease with himself. But then Anwar makes a creepy face and goes along with the Paula-fucking charade, so maybe not so much on that last one.
To review: Scott losing his breath on every word of every line and in impending myocardial infarction. Bo and his pants, also losing his breath, and being all awesome. A-Fed shaking his teenage ass all over the place and licking the inside of his mouth. Nikko being awesome and perfect. Travis sucking with my volume turned off. Mario looking a little possessed or full of rage or something, but singing like a pretty little girl. Constantine earning my hate with some fake intense sincerity emotional bullshit. Anwar blowing his own ass off with awesomeness. Then a quick review of the "girls" from their performances last week, but in totally hideous slo-mo, except for Mikalah, who was kind of in slo-mo all of her own accord last week. I kind of miss the dancing like assholes! Bo looking gross and flashing his number at the camera, Constantine and Bo seeming kind of like buddies, and then A-Fed hopping around on the stage with an overbite, looking idiotic. This is not the last time he will do this.
Tuesday
It's another fitted hip graphic tee for Ryan tonight: this one reads MODERN METAL, about which Google has little to say, as he points out that there are eight "girls" left and asks who will "make it" and then implores, "Let's do it." Lots of idiotic clothing choices going on here. Paula looks better than last night, if back a little bit to the old Canciones De Mi Papa look, and then Simon tells the ladies that the only advice he really has is to "be good," and then Ryan calls him boring. Simon doesn't even have time for a full-on engagement, so he just sends him a verbal telegram: "Ryan. Pot. Kettle. Black. Boring." STOP. And then in retaliation Ryan nicknames him "Baby Blue," in honor of the blue sweater he's wearing. Wow, I bet that'll hurt his feelings. "Baby Blue." Jeez. Why you so cruel, Seacrest? Simon says that this, for some reason, is "the one week you don't want to be eliminated." And then he and Ryan make out some more.
As a Gemini, Amanda likes "lots of music," but is also "indecisive." Are Geminis also redundant and maddeningly vague? She's wearing a super-cute outfit which incorporates a purple lace corset, okay, but such is the deal with Amanda that she looks really comfortable and normal in it. She's so pretty. It's too bad she can't sing for shit. She's better this week when she hits it -- which is about 30% of the time, and I'm being generous -- singing "River Deep, Mountain High." It's a very exciting song (any song with a "My Oh My" is exciting), and the arrangement is…very excited. The music levels this week are much more reasonable. There is a hideous clashing lavender ribbon coming out the bottom of her corset top at the back that looks like a tail, or like she's a gift. For Les Moonves or something. Her cigarette pants are cute too. This outfit is a ten. The music I don't even care to listen to. Why is she first? Is this some sad last-ditch effort to keep her very pretty and untalented ass on the show? Constantine and Anwar flirt throughout the performance because they both know a good mark when they see it. Also, it's boring and there's nothing else to do.
Randy points out how she got the incongruous good spot she got, and then compares her to "The Great Tina" and says it wasn't enough. Paula comes in and says it was "good" and the crowd goes wild and then Paula "gives her credit" (I love it when she gives them "credit") and says she put "Amanda" into it. I suppose I agree, such that if there is a discernable "Amanda" quality that could be added or subtracted to something, Amanda went ahead and added this mysterious thing, but I can't describe it to you. Baby Blue disagrees, and says…she looks great tonight. Then he just gets all kinds of Randy on her ass about how "there's only one good reason" to sing that particular song, and it's "coming close to the original." What's awesome is if you jaunt in your Superstring Time Machine over to where she did just that in a parallel American Idol, and he bitched her out for doing a Tina impersonation. Back in our universe, though, she didn't do this thing that is right this second so necessary, and this "showed her up as a bad singer, but a good performer."
I hate this. The contradictory advice ratchets up in total direct correlation to how wrong the results end up being, you know? Like they know she's going home, so they have to lie and say they didn't want a certain thing from her or something, but they don't have time or the brainpower or the inclination to make sense of or agree with themselves. Ryan asks how the group's "dynamic" has changed as they get closer to the finals, and she likens it to "soldiers in war," because they all bond. Was that smart? I don't think so, but there are also people who can get to thinking that Constantine is some kind of hero because his uncle Gus died in 9/11, so maybe I'm out of touch. Maybe that really is enough, things being as they are. At least for people like Amanda, or else she wouldn't have gone there. "Support our troops by voting for Amanda, because maybe week she'll say the word 'soldier' again."
Nadia's hair is getting so huge so fast that it is red-shifting. From the perspective of the hair, of course. For us, it's getting closer, so it would be blue-shifting, but I think the hair deserves its subjectivity, if not its own dressing room. Already time is a little bendy near the hair horizon. She and Ryan discuss how close she and Celena were, which was: kind of. Nadia says she misses her, but whatever, basically, and the reason for that is that she is doing this right. I don't care about Celena because I want Nadia to win, and Nadia should be like me: she shouldn't really care about any of this except to the degree where she wants to win. God has her back, too, which is nice I guess.
Janay is a Libra, and so very romantic. She enjoys "walks in the park and candle-lit dinners and going to the movies with your boyfriend." How can anyone enjoy this? She's never even been on a date! She's got this idea that picking up on reality from whatever bullshit TV shows she watches and whatever Top 40 songs she sings along with and whatever low-effort lit she reads is just as good as having actual experiences. She's trapped in the simulacrum, is what I am saying. And maybe that makes her the perfect American Idol, because this thing is eating itself faster than it can continue to grow and make itself anew. The show itself is kind of wearing a Guarini shirt. The show itself kind of has a little pot belly showing.
She has no eyebrows tonight. Maybe the mustache-removal apparatus missed or something. She's singing Selena's "Dreaming Of You," which is pretty much a Jets song, so I win. She's flat on and off, and wearing a lavender suit that Anwar might wear. Or, like, Prince. She looks a little freaked out but WAY prettier than she has up to now; she's wearing big girl makeup and it is applied artfully. She's shaky like a shaky little dog but this is still her best performance since the Hollywood round, back when I didn't want to throw up just from looking at her. I don't mind this. No reason for her to be here, of course, on my own personal TV screen, but she looks great, is pulling it off, sort of, and only looks like she's going to die a little bit.
Randy: "We say it a lot, but that was really pitchy. There might have been five or six notes that were actually in tune." Heh. Paula hands out some more "credit" for being ambitious tonight, and takes back a little credit for being "really pitchy." Or maybe she gives her, like, anti-credit. I'm not sure how the system works, but it's not because I'm dumb, it's because Paula is deeply insane. She tells Janay that her only hope is power-voters. I want to know who Janay's fan base really is. Who is it that gets that audience high from watching Janay sing? What are they like? What are their feelings about music, or vocal quality? Are they people who enjoy a look of fear? Or is it the little girl on a great big inappropriate stage looking humiliated factor? Do they like Junior Beauty Pageants for this reason? I need data. In keeping with the astrological themes, and initiating a second clairvoyant motif, Simon tells Janay that he sees "a suitcase and plane travel within 24 hours" in Janay's future. "You look cute tonight [true this time] but that was horrible [true every time]." She stows the attitude for once, telling Ryan basically that she still believes that she can make it to the end, even though she cannot sing most of the time.
Carrie is a Pisces, which is "kind of cool, because I love to fish, but I never use live bait, and I always throws them back, because a Pisces is always compassionate and kind." Lord. Just riddled with logical missteps and verbal fianchettos, this. "I'm a Cancer, which is kind of cool, because I smoke, but only menthol cigarettes, because a Cancer is very health-conscious." That's basically how much sense she's making. Not to address smokers or hunters, really, except to note that A) I smoke constantly and B) a fish is about the only animal I can think of that couldn't hurt you if it bent its entire will to doing so. The top she's wearing is very Marissa Cooper, a diaphanous wisp of peach nightie with a split-open disco ball taken apart and stapled along the bottom hem and the rest cupping each breast. Her voice sounds good, as usual, and she looks really pretty, in a plasticky Barbie Hilton way. She's singing "Because You Loved Me," you know? And honestly I kind of hope she gets through, so that she will be forced to sing non-country songs, and get reamed for it. She's like a Sarah Jessica Parker, in that she is technically pretty (which Sarah J. is, far more so than Carrie) but is so deeply and kind of startlingly unsexy that she's like the experiential opposite of Viagra, a concupiscence antidote. She just…takes it away.
Randy baby-talks to her for a while, mostly lies, all demeaning. Because the rest of the contestants hate her, Paula has to specifically request that the Dawg Pound make the Dawg Pound noise for Carrie. Just like last night, anything she says or does just ends up saying really mean things about the contestants. She's like that one guy's older female relative who tries to compliment people and just ends bringing every single conversation to a halt because it's so horrifyingly awkward whenever she opens her mouth. "Your hair's so pretty -- I bet if you combed it out of your eyes your skin would clear up." And inside, everybody goes, "AAAAAAAH!"
They baby-talk/bullshit Carrie about how she needs to get back her happy-go-lucky spark or something. "Hollywood is changing you. Go back to being the rube that you were two weeks ago!" Simon: "You are perfect and who cares and it's not worth discussing further." Ryan: What about theme night? Carrie: I am not going to be involved. Ryan: What if there were a hip-hop night? (Jacob: What if there was a car that ran on well-wishes and the dreams of ponies?) Carrie: That would be funny! Then they laugh like idiots basically about Tim McGraw and Nelly (which song rules, despite being as uncreative and repetitive as anything else Nelly touches) and honestly, she could get far doing that. Josh only lost it when he stopped singing country, votes-wise, and he was at least as hot as she is, in my opinion.
Now Vonzell is dressed as a cowgirl, like she's the living embodiment of the Tim McGraw/Nelly nexus of Theme Nights That Will Never, Ever Happen. She's Pisces, very imaginative, which means often she finds that she's phasing out in class and running along the beach in Jamaica. She's adorable and actually spaces out in the middle of talking about her habit of spacing out. She starts singing "Respect," and there's only two ways this can go: outright offensive or pretty unmemorable. It's fun to watch, she is so controlled and I love her voice -- she has a ridiculous sparkle in her eye like she has secret schemes about all kinds of things that she's just waiting to spring on you, for super-fun things like "Twister Wednesdays" where instead of working you just play Twister all day in your socks, stuff like that -- but I only remember any of this because it's in my notes. I just have a hazy, pleasant feeling about her when she's not around, that doesn't really connect to any specific sense or memory. You know? I can barely remember what she looks like.
Randy offers that she sounded better tonight than in the last few weeks, which is true, but not in a least-terrible-night Janay/Constantine way, in a legitimately-building-to-success way, and he says that it's not her best, but he saw "glimpses of greatness." What Paula likes about Vonzell: "the great spirit about her," the fact that she "takes risks" and "has fun," that she's "not a perfect singer" but is pleasant to listen to because she "has fun." You hear her, naysayers? She isn't afraid to take a firm stand. Paula Abdul gives "fun" two full thumbs up! And she doesn't care who knows it! Simon insults her outfit -- "all you need is a cow and a lassoo" -- but come to find out the hat and boots were gifts from her dad, who visited this week, so the crowd goes nuts booing him, but honestly it's his fault for wasting time on the clothes. He thought it was okay, but he's "not sure what she's trying to be." Vonzell says "herself" and Randy says "a singer" and Simon says "that's debatable" and then Ryan makes fun of him for saying "lassoo" and asks, "What part of the valley are you from, dude?" and thus cracks himself up. Perhaps this is where he earned the wrath of Simon we're going to see in a second.
Ryan talks with Jessica in her Amazing Technicolor Boob Coat from The Wizard of Oz about how, since last week she delivered the best vocal of the competition, does that relax her? So it's like what he was talking to Mario about, only there's a shred of truth, given that the judges actually said that. "No," she says. My teeth are jacked up and I am a little bit creepy-looking. I'm told she has the anterior open bite of an infant who can't stop with the pacifier or thumb or whatever. The dentist of my acquaintance explained that "'sucking habits' aren't the only cause of anterior open bite, but the most common cause," and then in general "you don't see it with adults because it's usually corrected orthodontically, and that adults don't tend to have persistent sucking habits." She noted that David Letterman has a slight one, due to his cigar. Anyway, for whatever reason, Jessica has this. Also fangs. "Have you thought about the competition with the guys?" Yeah, they play pool and she's going to beat them but they will be tough competition.
This is it, Nadia. Blow me away. She's a Capricorn, which means she has "personality," is "eccentric" and a "go-getter," and is "ambitious," and it turns out that this is Nadia "to a T." She's wearing (eccentric) a crazy cocktail dress with ruffles, that (ambitious) sticks out almost parallel to the floor, and a (personality) strange Jesus fish hanging from the waist, and her top has silk roses all over it. She's singing "Try A Little Tenderness," with which I don't really have a problem, because I can see that meshing well with Nadia-as-a-concept. There's a sexy, jammy start, with none of the tune-up most of the other contestants seem to require at the beginning of each song, and then a very exciting buildup (go-getter) to the Whole Nadia Thing, and she's right back at the top of her energy and awesomeness. Lord, I love this girl. She's dancing all around like she's the biggest star in the universe, even doing this winking, retro stutter-step during the "got to got to got to" part. She works the cameras like nobody's business and this funny stalking around and then a sexy little dance and fireworks in the background and I think I just had a minor cardiac event.
Randy loves watching her, and the outfits she wears, and although at first he was bummed about the choice, she rocked it so hard. Paula thinks Nadia picks "the right song" for herself, and has her "niche" (DRINK), and is the whole package. And this is what sets her apart. Just like Bo. The boys clap, because whatever. Simon was reminded of a young Tina Turner, so everybody goes, "Woo!" And then Simon thanks her for livening up what had been a boring evening, safe and bland, and thinks she took a risk. He thinks it'll pay off, both as a risk and in context of the boring night, and also because it was "without question" her best performance so far. Ryan fakely prods her to admit something along the lines of the idea that she just heard and learned the song for the first time four days ago, but I don't know if "heard" here is the same thing as "actively listened to for purposes of learning and performing." She kind of nods and talks about how in choosing her song, "I just knew it was the one for me," then smiles not too terribly fakely.
Mikalah looks normal again; Ryan calls her "the relentless Mikalah Gordon." Heh. "You toned it down last week, but now what?" She guesses that maybe America doesn't hate her personality as much as they ought to, so…fuck it. Damn. So not the lesson we're meant to be learning here, babe. I feel protective of her these days. "If this is my last chance, then I'm going to be nice and crazy for everybody." She is very lovely. Then, less lovely, as Ryan asks whether she's nervous about her song tonight, and things deteriorate quite quickly and they both kind of forget themselves and before you or they know precisely what is happening, she's pretending to vomit into his outstretched hands, and then they both realize what they've allowed to happen, in front of people, live, and they are a tad bit chagrined, and then Lindsey sings.
Lindsey is an Aquarius, which is "just wrong," she thinks, because she's not at all unemotional. Girl? We know. She's got a much bigger voice this week, as well as tarantula eyes, and something going on with her shoulders. She's not a big girl, but her top makes her look like a linebacker. She goes to the country place, which is dumb because of Carrie, who is marginally better, technically, although I like Lindsey's voice way more. I hate this animal crackers in the bellybutton song so much, but somehow I hate it less as a country song. It cancels itself out or something. Or maybe I just don't hate anything as much as Aerosmith. "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing." I wonder if they're going to bitch about her singing an Aerosmith song like they did on Carrie with Janis. Only it won't be that offensive, because Aerosmith is no Janis Joplin. She sounds good, a couple of pitch issues but very few. The boys clap, and Anthony screams!
Randy calls it "Wow," and mentions the return of her husky voice. It was "not the bomb, but a good performance," and the tone is back. Lindsey has cankles. Paula is more a fan of Lindsey's voice, and less of the songs she chooses to sing, so she "can't engage." That's exactly how I feel, so I can't make fun of Paula for pretending she knows what the hell is going on around her. "You haven't been able to show your best, but I'm a fan of your voice." Whatever. Simon calls it a "great song," and says it's hard to put into words the exact problem with Lindsey, and then he proves this by making minimal sense and basically T-boning the whole venture.
"You are the musical equivalent of Ryan Seacrest," he explains. "You look the part, you do everything right, and yet [we're] disappointed with the performance." Ryan looks utterly wounded for a second, and then goes back to the professional smile, and then he climbs onto the desk again, but this time it's for real and not for kisses, and he throws a glass of water onto Simon's recently-vacated chair but splashes him a little. Things are now out of hand. Whoa. Simon laughs, because this is just one of the little games they play: He questions Ryan's entire raison d'être and calls him worthless, and then Ryan responds in an infantile and flirty fashion. Talk about your persistent sucking habits. I wish I'd never seen this happen before. On this show or anywhere.
Then Ryan, who has once more I think surprised himself, pretends that was all on Lindsey's behalf, all "you and I are in this together, okay," but it's clear his mind is just gone at this point, because he digresses to a crazy sad place, all, "Let's get votes for both of us right now, for me you can just call the house [?], and for Lindsey call this number." I don't know what that's about. Maybe he has regular sympathy dates for when this kind of thing happens. All I know is that there is a CIA/serial-killer level of compartmentalization going on here. Then he looks over at Simon "angrily" and then giggles and says to Lindsey, "He acts like it's the first time his pants have been wet." Which would be kind of silly and pee-pee-head childish, if the huge hulking man-love monster weren't tearing down the set in the background, spinning it way more dirty/sexy than he intended. What am I going to do with these knuckleheads?
Mikalah is a Capricorn, so she's "shy," "reserved," and "hates attention." Amusing juxtaposition of expectation v. reality! Also known as irony! DRINK! Then she giggles into the camera with horrible hair and proceeds to sing "Somewhere" from West Side Story in her best Barbra Streisand voice and looks hypnotically into the camera. She basically slaughters the song. It's terrible, the singing? But also just…there's something incredibly false about this performance because the song itself, it's pretty ingenuous, and thus not believable from a rode-hard pony like Mikalah. Maybe something from the musical version of, like, Requiem for A Dream she could pull off, but this "hold my hand and we're halfway there" thing? No. "Hold my purse while I cold-cock this bitch"? Yes. "Hold my pantyhose while I find my shoe"? Absolutely. There's a great big note at the end, but not so big or special that I don't think seriously about how weird and conflicted I'll feel about saying goodbye to Mikalah tomorrow night. Again with the weird layered ponytail sticking out. I cannot believe that I'm disappointed in her right now, because it means I like her or something.
Randy goes, "I'm not all about the song choice thing [lie] because I believe that no matter what you choose you've just gotta sing it, right? [lie, sometimes truth] I love how you take risks [truth], for you -- with the voice you have [both lie and truth], and as young as you are [both truth and lie] -- trying [truth] to tackle a song like that? You are definitely fearless [lie inside of a truth inside of a lie]. That part I love [truth]." He calls on the Dawg Pound, and they instantly respond, except for Constantine, because he is a hater. He always makes this certain face when people clap for Mikalah. Mikalah only, though. It's weird. Maybe he's afraid of week when she starts splitting his "nasty as hell" vote.
It is at this point that my friend Will calls to tell me that he thinks Paula Abdul might be a little psychic. "You love…Barbra, don't you? I sense that you…aspire to…and admire her." Can you believe her psychic powers? It's been literally months and she's finally placed the accent. Check out the inside of Paula's left ear time you get a shot, because I've heard that on a clear day, you can see forever. "You tackled a tough song [totally true, and kind of queer], and started off a little shaky [truth], but like last week you pulled through [lie]. You really take risks and you go for it [truths]. You don't care, you just go for it [Word.] and that's probably going to get you through [who knows]." Simon says the first part was hideous, and like a sleeping pill -- we close in on her sadness here, because remember that Simon is the only one she interfaces with, except to tell Randy insulting things like how she's secretly black or whatever the hell -- but Simon thinks the last part was fine. He's puzzled, because in -- was it Vegas? (Even Randy and Paula are like, doy?) -- she was very cool, but it's like she's gone into "an aging machine." Dude, Vegas. You just said it. To be 17 and singing Barbra -- this he doesn't get. "I don't think it's taking a risk. I think it was supposed to be safe, which means you're losing what I liked about you before." Which he totally told you to lose, because he told you over and over how fucking annoying you are. Randy basically thinks one should not perform Barbra songs, or definitive Barbra versions of songs, if one wishes to get ahead in life. Ryan points out that she's just a little kid and was only trying to follow their advice, for God's sake. She smiles prettily and without the whole put-on, and it's nice. Up , your drag queen successor: Jessica Sierra.
As a Scorpio, I'm a passionate, alcoholic, determined person. For e.g., she tried out for the show last year and didn't get through, but she auditioned again this year and has gotten at least as far as the Top 16. That's cool how she says it, like you know she would've come back as many times as it took. Her eye shadow is a little washed out -- this was true with Janay too. I like the makeup tonight, basically, but a few girls with eyes that should be popping end up looking puffy and sleepy because of the uneven eye makeup. MAN so she starts at the back of the theatre and strolls all the way up to the stage singing, doing the bluesy fist-on-the-downbeat thing (BOMP! BOMP!) and kind of riffing all around the key with some nonsense rock-and-roll phrases and then there's hardcore honky-tonk happening. She is so professional right now, it's really amazing to watch. She is singing a country version of the song "The Boys Are Back In Town," the Busboys one from 48 Hrs., manages to get the line "everybody when they hear the music/they'll be doing it on the floor" past everybody, keeps pointing out the band, who are clearly enjoying themselves…it's so cute. It's arresting. She sounds really strong, best I've seen, even though she goes flat a few times and a bit breathless a couple of times, dropping the ends of phrases like the boys last night. She's very much performing tonight. It's great. Top two of the night.
Randy goes wild, all, "Aw yeah!" and "That was hot!" and my favorite: "Love the blues soul country rock thing you do." Once again he tells her she was one of the best performances of the night. Agreed. Paula "seconds" that it's her "niche" (DRINK, but also, what? She's the token "blues soul country rock thing"? She's that "niche"?) and wants Jessica to bring it, because it's awesome. Simon notes that her extremely high-riding breasts and no-neck monster status are by no means dialing back the creepy factor, saying that she really chose the right song title, because all you can see "in town" are "the boys," basically. Then there's some more impenetrable gay Ryan/Simon stuff as they laugh and infer it's an inside joke but I don't really think she gets it, just defaults to her a priori sluttiness, all, "Work it baby!" and a wink and a moue and Ryan explains to us that it was technically an endorsement. There's a lot going on, people yelling off-camera and stuff. She just inspires chaos and disaster everywhere she goes, I think. She's wearing a green velvet jacket like that guy that won't let them into the Emerald City, and an emerald green boob dress with an empire waist, and jeans capri-folded like jodhpurs over her green boots. I'm not even sure I get the whole joke.
Review: Amanda persistently sucking but wearing awesome Amanda clothes and looking lovely. Janay not being that great in any particular way and straining the rehearsal mics with screeching. Carrie being a perfect little performerbot. Vonzell being super-cute and fun to watch. Nadia being so fucking amazing I can't even handle it. Lindsey looking radiant and like she's really getting it done and being all bowlegged so that you can see it's not actually a skirt but in fact clown pants. Mikalah looking beautiful but not so much singing as doing her Mikalah stuff. Jessica being fantastic.
Wednesday: Final 12
Mikalah is dressed like a common street whore. I don't know what they're talking about. The couch I am sitting on is made of the exact same stuff as Ryan's jacket. The thing here that's interesting, as ellisbell pointed out on the forums, is that these are the worst odds at any point in the game besides the Final Three and up: of eight members of a gender group, two of them are going home. That's a 1:4 chance of rejection, which is of course not going to he happening again until the Final Four. Just another stupid thing about the forced gender split, because that's rough enough but presupposes that the two groups are evenly and equally split in terms of vote-getting. So dumb. Again, just because hypothetically every single woman could be better than every single man and still two of them would go home.
Ryan describes them as "this select group." Chicken Selects, if you're Janay. He tells us that this group has earned a total of 120 million votes. "What have you done, America? And will the judges agree?" They all look mean. Well, Paula looks stoned. We review the nights' performances, with some weak narrative ligature slash spin. The stars were apparently "aligned for some," as we see Amanda missing about a hundred notes in just the short clip, and then Amanda and Carrie being told they're in like Flynn, and Carrie being told by Simon, in a not-untrue expression of hyperbole, that "whatever she sings, she sounds fantastic." Janay sucked, but still has it in her to look in a completely bitchy way at Simon for telling her just how very home she's going. Vonzell rocked out, and "got more respect for her voice than for her wardrobe choice," and we revisit the stupid "cow and lassoo" moment, but she does a totally cute cowgirl dance. Mikalah "toned it down again." Not so much, really. Nadia reminded Simon of a young Tina Turner, and then we go through the whole stupid thing with Lindsey being the more female Ryan Seacrest, which Ryan characterizes as "bizarre." Jessica and her gigantic breasts totally rocking and Ryan says, apropos of something or another, "It became a bit of a wet t-shirt contest."
The guys also turned in a "stellar" show. Heh. Get it? Bo will be "batter" when he's "oldaher," just like Constantine might be if he sang "I'll Be," and it was his competition to lose. Travis the newsboy with his crappy beat-boxing caused Simon to go "on a rant," as we see him call Travis "theme park" and Scott an "amateur," and then insult Anthony's obviously nonexistent "Latin flair." Paula couldn't imagine a Top 12 without Nikko in it. They bathed Mario in warm water and wrapped him in a fluffy towel of their admiration before reading him a bedtime story about how in three months he'll be a Superstar, Constantine was gross, and Anwar looked great and sang beautifully and completely without passion. Then Simon said the thing about puppies, and he laughed, but then Simon mentioned betrothing him to Paula and he got incredibly skeevy, tenting his fingers and being all "eeeeexcellent" and making scary eyebrows and pretending like he would be into that. "What have your votes done? Which guys will get through?" I said "Constantine" out loud right then, y'all. Maybe the judges' psychic mind powers are contagious!
Mario and Lindsey, Anthony and Vonzell are brought down to the center of the stage into their preassigned positions around Ryan. He gives the result: they're all in. Then they all hug each other, and A-Fed flirts with Ryan, and then Mario taps in so Lindsey will step off and he can hug A-Fed. Anthony is cool because he very quietly takes the women's arms in a gentlemanly fashion and helps them to their pre-assigned seats. It's cool because it doesn't seem premeditated, just a response to the rickety ghetto stylings of their seating arrangement. Shortest hug? The boys. Longest hug, not counting a wink thrown Ryan's way? Lindsey and A-Fed. : Lizard King or Bo Bice? Who will leave and who will stay? WOO! That implies that one will be leaving and one will be staying, right? I can commence celebrating based on the words that just came out of Seacrest's mouth, right?
Delia totally got skinny and you can only recognize her by her hair. I think I'm upset about that, but no more so than Jennifer Grey having that hideous nose installed. There's some sick sense of validation that she's in a Big Lots commercial and can't believe the low clearance prices and how there's new stuff every week coming in on giant Big Lots trucks and then I'm like, "What's wrong with you? Like she had to stay fat to have cred. She hasn't worked in like thirty years, Naomi Wolf!" And then I was like, "Don't call me that." So I'm sorry about that, Delia. You're still very pretty. Congratulations on your Big Lots job. Ain't no shame in it: once Lauren Bacall kicked open the Tuesday Morning loading dock it was an open playing field.
Ryan pulls a tiny little itsy-bitsy fast one on Carrie: "Sorry, you need to stand up…and walk over to your seat!" She keeps making these irritating fake "You're so mean!" bullshit gestures. Like she can't believe her friends nominated her for Prom Queen or asked her to sing karaoke during rush week or something like that. "You guys! Come on, you guys!" There's a time and a place, little thing. God. Nadia is also in the Top 12, and she's so happy about it that she forgets to thank God. She is struck by lightning. Just kidding, God actually sends a few more blessings to her for not mentioning him every time anything happens. Also, she is wearing a knitted yarn person-sized sock with weird hanging things all around it. A macramé dress with macramé trim. It looks like this blanket my grandmother made; it's even in the same colors. It's full-on macramé couture.
Ryan summons Constantine and Bo, "the rockers," ugh, down to the Seal. Constantine looks bummed and Bo looks like he's pretending to be bummed. Constantine is so effing tall. Is he…? Is that…? Yeah. He's totally wearing a Guarini shirt. THAT IS SO FUCKING RAD. I know I mentioned it before, but now he's actually wearing it. Ryan steps back so that they can't read over his shoulder like Clay did because they're so much taller than him. They shake hands and Constantine gets severely dirty-goblin-toothed and then Ryan congratulates Bo. Constantine acts sad as Nadia congratulates Bo, because she knows they'll be going head to head. Who else is she going to respect here? Then Ryan shakes Constantine's hand and thanks him for being up there -- because he's through! Constantine makes some stupid faces and Bo wishes he could die. Jessica's too nervous to care. As though it means anything, Ryan screams about how it's "the first group of eight!" Paula and Randy are very excited about this, and Simon looks bored. There are four spaces left, and fourteen more commercial breaks. I'll just fast forward...hang on, there's an O.C. commercial I've only seen a hundred times. Also, the Yoda movie has Chewbacca people in it this time. I'm looking forward to that movie. The first one was sucky, with the drag race and that awful little boy, but I didn't mind the second one. It reminded me of Dune, but not the good one.
Man! Mikalah looks like ass. Travis, Scott, Nikko in an Alicia Keys hat, and Anwar smiling peacefully. Out of those four, the only one that will make sense is Anwar. It's too early for a Scott shocker and there's no reason to put Travis or Nikko through at this point, because it's highly unlikely either of them are advancing, which is too bad because Nikko's good. Yeah. Anwar is in. He prays a whole bunch, and Mikalah and Jessica discuss. (I'm telling you, keep those two apart.) Everybody's happy about it except Carrie, who fake-smiles, but I don't think she's got anything in particular against Anwar, I just think she's getting tired of not getting clapped for. Obviously, by that same process, Jessica will be the one, because Mikalah's the big Scott shocker and Amanda and Janay are unlikely. This is fun, I'm doing really well. There are now six people, and only one man and one woman will advance.
I'm sitting on you, Ryan! On your jacket! It's so weird! The chairs they sit in are awful, like these molded plastic chairs. They're like what I imagine you sit in at, like, A.A., in a church basement. Didn't they used to have stools or something? Scott is wearing a Fat Joe suit with giant bling hanging down. It's like a split-level home hanging on his chest on a chain. Gross. Randy says that of the three remaining guys, "It'd have to be Sc…between Scott and Nikko." Dude, they totally already know. This is retarded. It's not even a secret. They've had conversations where he asks them if they think the results are fair. They might have done that this week, for all I can remember. Paula, who less than 48 hours ago, not to mention in a clip shown less than 30 minutes ago, said that she couldn't imagine a Top 12 without Nikko, has suffered a severe imaginational breakdown and now can't imagine that she'd ever be able to choose between the three, because they've done "such great jobs" and blah blah blah, she can't say something actually wrong if she knows it's wrong, but she should at least try to slap some spackle on it or something. All Simon knows is that Travis is going home. Hee! "Scott, it's you…that have made it." More God shit from Scott with the hands in the air and the clutching his creepy skull and the histrionic stupid obnoxious crap. He hugs Nikko, and Mikalah licks her lips, sizing him up.
Now the last three women stand on the Seal: Janay, in a smart suit and headband and a little cameltoe; Amanda, wearing a strange yellow underwear contraption that opens at the décolletage to reveal an identical satin yellow piece of crap underneath, and Fedorov's jeans with deceptively huge-looking thighs; and Mikalah, looking like the whoriest whore that ever whored. It's a see-through number, black fishnet, with a pink tube top underneath and weird bands of less-sheer black lace over the elbows and shoulders, and giant pink Power Ranger boots. She's still freaking gorgeous in the face, but yikes. Of the three, Mikalah is still Randy's favorite. "America voted, Randy mentions Mikalah..." She's through, of course. All three judges clap for her, and she gets it together remarkably fast, immediately turning to hug Amanda and Janay before skipping over to the A.A. chairs. Amanda looks destroyed and old, like if Sarah Mather had been a Vegas "dancer," and Janay gives one more terrified, horrified look at the camera. I could swear it's a shout-out, because there's no other reason for her to make that stupid face.
Then: all Top 12 dancing around like assholes, each in their own idiotic way, jubilant that they made it even though they hadn't when these were taped. I bet Travis's and Amanda's were hot. Now we'll never know. Lindsey's in her underwear, of course, and almost runs into the camera with all her jumping around. Bo does some rocker stuff, which is supposed to be ironic-not-sexy but comes off a little bit actually-sexy by virtue of being dorky…it's confusing. Mikalah freaking out in a ridiculous 17-year-old manner, which is better than a 48-year-old manner but still annoying. A-Fed doing yet another Kid N Play and howling, with the hole covered and a Ritalin scrip held tightly in his tiny fist. Jessica, back to looking like a homeless freak in a dime-store jacket and making awful faces and drinking from her flask. Lizard King doing a weird kick at the screen, no Guarini shirt to make me like him, giving a "what-what." Ugh. Vonzell being totally cute and jumping around with her giant plastic earrings. Anwar gaying it up in a flesh-colored belt that makes him look like he's exposing his tummy, and pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, Nadia doing weird dancing and giving a quick "peace out." Scott Savol jumping awkwardly and heavily like the Hulk in that movie, and howling. Carrie being all Carrie and uncomfortable sorority girl and blowing a stupid kiss and not into it at all. Mario with a stupid hat doing some kind of stupid dance and then getting confused and running off-screen, which was cool.
Now: back onstage, Jessica finally loses it, they all mill around, Constantine's torn-knee jeans ask, "If I would, could you?" but his Guarini shirt wonders, "Is it still a happy trail if it's on a fish-white pot belly?" while his red Calvin Klein man-panties whisper seductively, "Can't you just see me playing air guitar half-naked in the bathroom when you're twenty minutes late for work?" Carrie looks like a fool in a pink shirt made of ribbons, and she and Mario are like, what are we doing here? A-Fed stares into the camera, Jessica and Mikalah maul each other as Lindsey tries desperately to get in on that action, and Constantine as usual stares creepily and dead-like at the camera, because he's from The Theatre. Bo does the same thing but hidden partially behind some people, and Nadia watches Ryan like he's a curious thing indeed. I like the placement here, with Carrie and Mario on one side, Nadia and Bo on the other, and Pocket Anthony hidden behind Tiny Seacrest. Then Ryan points out that one of them is going to be the American Idol -- how exciting! -- and they all make fake "Hope it's me!" faces, and Nadia smiles indulgently at him in her weird '70s dress that's really cute on her despite looking like it feels remarkably synthetic. They all clap for the judges except Bo who looks like he just realized he's disgusted with everything, and then Ryan asks the judges for advice again.
During all of this: Jessica tries to be sexy some more at the camera, Bo nods off, Vonzell is earnest and sweet, they're all nodding, Randy says they will have to bring it every night, Paula asks if they have questions but then abjures them to have fun tonight, and they all phase out a bit as they try to remember what that's like since they've been stuck in this grueling stupid hamster-wheel bullshit machine for a month, and Carrie laughs because to her "fun" is, like, bobbing for apples, and Randy says they should party with Ryan and he laughs, because to Ryan "fun" is, like, I don't know what. I don't think I'm ready for that jelly. That's advanced jelly. Mikalah smiles at Lindsey and she hugs her close, opening the way for Scott to fondle both their shoulders, which Jessica finds hilarious, and then he has to shake his head that is not a sexual harasser, and Lindsey laughs and Jessica caresses his face while on the more grownup side of the stage, Constantine is still grinning and staring like an untalented idiot.
Ryan asks Simon to "button it up" once and for all for the evening, and Simon calls it "a different competition" week. Constantine and Vonzell nod like they know what the hell he's talking about, and he tells them not to imitate, but to be original and not compromise. Anwar looks sad or something, and blinks his eyes slowly. Ryan and Nadia both stand the exact same way because they are both strong black women. Everybody nods hard during Paula's dithering about "risk" to shut her up because they know that "fun" Ryan-style involves chemicals and they want to get to that part of the evening. I almost reach into my TV to slap Randy Jackson for going to the song choice well one more time, and then Simon and Paula, acting in tandem, convince Mikalah to be "goofy" and "act her age" and she howls ridiculously, making Randy laugh, and it's like the biggest family of circus folk ever because all of a sudden it's like Simon and Randy are the unorthodox heads of a really large family of like fourteen kids, all of whom are demanding their attention all the time, all, "Look at me, Dads!" and then A-Fed does a dorky dance, but a different one from before, and then we're out. We're Seacrest out.