By M. Giant
There's a fancy, over-edited recap of last night that talks about the respective journeys of Jessica Sanchez and Phillip Phillips and ends with the onscreen text, "In the end, there can be only one." Prepare for the quickening, everyone.
After the titles but without preamble, we're dropped right into a group performance of "Run Away" by the top twelve through three. They're all dressed in white, as though they're not just eliminated from the competition, but actually dead. I'm a little embarrassed for Josh, having the same status as Jeremy Rosado and Erika Van Pelt (who is at least blonde again), but then he slips and flails during his one dance move, and I'm even more embarrassed. And then there's an extended dance break, both break- and swing, and I'm just embarrassed for everyone on earth. There's some dutiful applause at the end, and then they all part to make way for the judges' entrance, and that of Ryan, who's turned out tonight in a tuxedo. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ryan Seacrest," my seven-year-old groans wearily. Ryan says there were 132 million votes last night, a new world record. I didn't even know Guinness tracked that. Ryan calls Jessica and Phil, also in white, and asks the burning question on everyone's mind tonight: did they sleep? Phil, looking like a hippie cult leader in his white pants and Henley mildly informs the world that he slept about nine and a half to ten hours last night. He did better than I did. By the way, so far in the audience I've spotted Scotty McCreery, Jane Lynch, Lisa Rinna, Harry Hamlin and Carrie Underwood.
After the ads, the big guns come out with John Fogerty duetting with Phil (no longer in white) on the latter's song from the California round, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain." After the initial surprise, it gets boring in a hurry. They don't harmonize all that well, possibly because they just met for the first time today. Behold your possible future, Phil; if all goes well tonight, one day you'll find yourself in a courtroom defending yourself in a plagiarism suit. But they're not done! John Fogerty switches from acoustic to electric guitar while Phil mumbles a humble speech and they launch together into "Bad Moon Rising." We are clearly in no hurry whatsoever here.
In further support of this, there's a clip package of the wackier moments from the audition rounds, which I've already recapped once. And in some cases more than that.
After the commercials have aired and order has been restored, Ryan's at the judges' table with Jimmy. Then he cues up a blooper reel in which Jimmy referred to Jennifer Lopez as "Jessica" repeatedly, week after week and take after take, to the point where every crew member for his tapes segments was correcting him. Jimmy even did it once during the live shows. At the end of the clip, we learn that this whole supercut was Jimmy's own idea. Jennifer takes it in good humor, though. At least while the cameras are rolling, that is. Jimmy will probably not survive the night.
Then the female finalists, including Jessica, take the stage in glittery cocktail dresses to struggle through a weak nightclub medley, joined at the end by Chaka Khan for "I'm Every Woman." And apparently it's a big night for glittery bodysuits. Probably just as well that John Fogerty didn't get the memo. One can't help noticing that Ryan has assumed Jennifer's seat at the judges' table, which is a clear sign that she'll probably be performing again on the stage very soon. Does the fun ever start?
Instead of a Ford Music Video, there's a montage of all the ones. Somehow they found one that had Phillip in it and everything. After that, there's a clip about the top two's respective musical mentors, and how Ford had a gift for each of them: tickets to the finale! They both act happy at having to travel to L.A. instead of getting free cars, but then, back in the auditorium, Jessica and Phil present them with keys to new cars. But they had to come all the way here to get them. Phil and Jessica each get one, but don't seem too surprised about it.
Then a giant box is carted out onstage amid pounding drums and flashing lights. At length it is opened to reveal an entire highly localized laser light show that contains Rihanna. It's quite the production, with dancers and smoke and more lasers than a Star Wars prequel and stilt-walkers on loan from Cirque du Soleil. "I love you, Idol!" she remembers to call out at the end, now that The X Factor has a full complement of judges and Jennifer may be leaving a vacancy year.
Skylar gets to sing about four lines of "Turn On Your Radio" before Reba herself comes out to join her. Skylar appears the opposite of starstruck by this encounter, almost making Reba look doddering by comparison. "What a moment for Skylar on the stage," Ryan gushes. Still at the judges' table, Ryan introduces a clip in which Steven shows off his house, which contains Playboy bunnies and a sloth and lots of memorabilia and embarrassingly lame jokes and bits to which Randy happily submits as Steven's straight man. Let's keep this moving. After this waste of time that has Vaudeville spinning in its grave, Jessica gets to sing "I Will Always Love You" one more time, just because. I'm glad to say she doesn't have to share the stage with a holographic Whitney Houston because that would have been in poor taste.
Then it's time for a group sing by the male finalists sans Phil, thanks to his well-timed illness. They're singing a medley of "America," "Cracklin' Rose," and "I'm a Believer" which allows us to experience the startling revelation that of all of them, the one who sounds the most like Neil Diamond is Colton. And he ends up being the one to introduce Neil Diamond himself, who comes out to sing-talk through "Sweet Caroline" with their much-needed backup for what's left of his voice. Jennifer? Still AWOL from the judges' table. Presumably it's taking her longer to call in that hit on Jimmy than she thought.
Coming back, Ryan boasts that Adam Lambert pushed Carrie Underwood off the top of the charts this week, then rolls a supercut of Randy telling multiple finalist that they could sing the phone book. Which is an excuse to show a bit where the ten ex-finalists actually sing the phone book dressed like a gospel choir. It's as funny as it sounds. And back live, Ryan has Scotty McCreery present Randy with his own giftwrapped phone book. Then Ryan and Randy tandem-introduce Jennifer's performance. And I have to say, the white trucker hat and glitter warm-up clothes don't look like they should have made for such a lengthy costume change. She switches both songs and dance crews halfway through, at which point she's joined by Wisin Y Yandel, who perform what may be the longest stretch of Spanish-language rap ever seen by a television audience of this size. Eventually it ends, and the only bad news is that this means Ryan is going to have to stand up for the rest of the show.
Ryan points out Lauren Alaina and Taylor Hicks, and calls up Ace Young and Diana DeGarmo for some reason. He announces that they've recently moved in together. Ace says this is kind of their home, so he says he wants to ask her a question. Ryan obligingly tells Kieran to dim the lights. Ace goes into a planned speech that includes a shout-out to David Webb Jewelry, then gets down on one knee and asks her to marry him. Just when you thought this show couldn't get any tackier. She nods happily, to the familiar sound of the American Idol music cue. Can we get back to the gratuitously cheesy performances, please? Please?
Oh, I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for Hollie, singing "You'll Never Walk Alone." At some point she's joined by Jordin Sparks and the gospel choir that hasn't gotten much more downtime than Ryan tonight. American Idol, if you're trying to get the country to find out who the winner is from Twitter, this is exactly the way to do it.
I thought I felt sorry for Siri until I saw her with John Malkovich.
Ryan comes back to eulogize Robin Gibb... by introducing a Bee Gees medley by Heejun, Colton, Josh, Jeremy and DeAndre. You'd think the latter's falsetto would serve him well for this. You'd think wrong. But then nobody else really pulls it off either, other than Joshua, who isn't even singing the Bee Gees song he did a few weeks ago.
Had enough yet? No? Good, because Jessica is duetting on "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" with Jennifer Holiday, who throughout the performance looks not only capable of swallowing Jessica whole, but inclined to. At some point they reach some kind of bombastic critical mass, but they're only halfway done. It keeps building from there, and it wraps up with an endless coda of hollering that actually drowns out the thunderstorm currently breaking outside my house. Or maybe it triggered it. It's hard to tell.
Ryan wastes little time with his intro: "I've been waiting two years to say this. Ladies and gentlemen, Aerosmith!" The curtains open on Steven and Joe Perry and the guys, kicking into what I can only assume is a new song, because it sounds like one of their '90s b-sides. Joe Perry does his solo in front of a prop amp designed to look like it's smoldering, which is about as believable as the idea that the harmonies we're hearing are actually live. After the first song they bust out "Walk This Way," at the end of which Steven sheds his feathery duster. So will Randy be performing ?
Oops, looks like we're almost out of time. Jessica and Phil duet on "Up Where We Belong," facing the audience from behind the judges' table. Phil's wearing a three-piece tuxedo over a v-neck-shirt, because you wouldn't want to mess with a voice like his by constricting his throat with a tie. After they're done, Ryan calls them up to the stage, and Ryan goes through the pomp and circumstance of having the British-accented accountant march out portentously with the results envelope. For their last words, Phil thanks the band and the fans, Jessica thanks everyone, and Ryan orders the lights dimmed one more time.
After 132 million votes, the winner of Season Eleven is... Phillip Phillips. The crowd goes wild, the ex-finalists rush Phil, and Scotty McCreery awkwardly galumphs into view with a guitar in one hand and Phillip's new trophy in the other. He's presented with both, but he doesn't get to hold the trophy for long before his old Gibson Gold Top is strapped on and he's singing "Home" again, alone at the center of the stage. Sparklers go off, and so do the confetti cannons, so does Phil's voice, as he's too overcome with emotion to finish the second verse. He and the song keep playing, though, and before it's over, he walks away from the mic stand, unslings his guitar, and slouches into the arms of his family in the front row. Whom he will never get to see again. Sucks to be Jessica tonight, I guess.
By M. Giant
Oops, looks like we're almost out of time. Jessica and Phil duet on "Up Where We Belong," facing the audience from behind the judges' table. Phil's wearing a three-piece tuxedo over a v-neck-shirt, because you wouldn't want to mess with a voice like his by constricting his throat with a tie. After they're done, Ryan calls them up to the stage, and Ryan goes through the pomp and circumstance of having the British-accented accountant march out portentously with the results envelope. For their last words, Phil thanks the band and the fans, Jessica thanks everyone, and Ryan orders the lights dimmed one more time.
After 132 million votes, the winner of Season Eleven is... Phillip Phillips. The crowd goes wild, the ex-finalists rush Phil, and Scotty McCreery awkwardly galumphs into view with a guitar in one hand and Phillip's new trophy in the other. He's presented with both, but he doesn't get to hold the trophy for long before his old Gibson Gold Top is strapped on and he's singing "Home" again, alone at the center of the stage. Sparklers go off, and so do the confetti cannons, so does Phil's voice, as he's too overcome with emotion to finish the second verse. He and the song keep playing, though, and before it's over, he walks away from the mic stand, unslings his guitar, and slouches into the arms of his family in the front row. Whom he will never get to see again. Sucks to be Jessica tonight, I guess.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.
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