By Shack
Ryan Seacrest greets us outside, in front of the crowd of remaining contestants, who all face the camera the way flowers turn to follow the sun. The kids are gonna sing some more, and then some of them are going to go away. Yay! Ryan lies that the judges have "raised the bar" again this year. Clearly, he's been too busy preening and hounding celebrities into appearing on his new show to actually listen to this year's crop.
We return to A Historic Theater in Los Angeles. That's what Ryan calls it. It may have a name, but I guess they weren't willing to pay to get it on the air. We have 117 singers remaining in the contest and they're all here for the round of cuts. Oh, they're such clever auteurs at American Idol. They start the episode with Ryan narrating that the remaining contestants have all sung, and are waiting to find out whether they're in the final thirty-two. See, they're telling the story backwards, like in Memento. Maybe at the end of tomorrow's episode, we'll discover that a memory-addled Simon had unwittingly cut the one contestant who could explain to him what's going on, or something. They show little flashfutures (great, like I need more Tru Calling references) of the remaining contestants sucking and being told that they suck by Simon, while music ripped off from the Survivor tribal councils plays in the background. Some woman who must be a stage mom tells the camera that Simon was brutal, and that some of these kids will need therapy when they leave here. Actually, that sounds to me like Simon is doing them a favor, since many of them most assuredly needed therapy before they ever arrived. Jonah reminds us he's from Hawaii. Non-model Lisa reminds us that she exists. Matthew Rogers reminds us he was in the Rose Bowl. Take a snapshot of Matthew, write "Rose Bowl" on the back, and hang it to the mirror so you don't forget. Simon reminds us that the judges have to cut people.
Now that we've "set the scene" -- because heaven knows this show is so complicated that we'd be going, "Wait, why are they eliminating more singers? We're not going to vote on 117 people?" -- we head back in time to the screaming fame whores as they first arrive in Los Angeles. They're loud and rude at the airport. Well, maybe they're just exuberant, but I'm an old crank and don't like to see people who are more excited than I am about anything. We see many faces -- some vaguely familiar, most completely unknown. Nicole "Scooter Girl" Tieri has a stuffed dog with her. She tells us that the stuffed dog said that she's going to be the American Idol. She wisely leaves out that the stuffed dog also told her that Paula Abdul is going to try to steal her eyes while she's sleeping and must be "taken care of." Ryan narrates to us that very few contestants made it through to Hollywood with the support of all three judges, so they'll either have to improve their singing, or be a lot sluttier. Michael Keown says something. Shut up, Michael. Nicole flirts with Alan Ritchson and marvels at his tight abs. More people make vague comments about singing. And...scene.
We're off to Day Two already, as we watch the shrieking kids arrive at A Historic Theater. I really think this is the same theater in Pasadena from the first season, but I can't be sure. For the first day of competition, each kid will step forward on stage and tell the judges why he or she thinks he or she should be the American Idol, and then sing. Fantasia Barrano is one of the first we watch. She says she should be American Idol because her lips are big, but her talent is bigger. Everybody laughs, including Simon. She puckers up and shows that her lips are, indeed, large. Then she wails out "Think," and does indeed sound a lot like Macy Gray, but with a better voice, and louder. And a touch less flaky. In a neat little touch, they edit in a scorecard under the auditions that shows how the judges voted during the initial auditions. All three judges voted for Fantasia. The others all cheer. Backstage, Fantasia tells us that the red high heels she's wearing are killing her, and rushes off somewhere to remove them. Ah, pretty shoes that try to kill you. More reminders of why I'm glad I'm not a girl. Or a drag queen.
up is Jon Peter "Piper Picked A Pen Salesman Position" Lewis. Flashbacks remind us that Simon loved Jon's voice, but thought he was a meek little mouse of a man. Jon brought a pen with him to wave around as he tells Simon that he can sell more than writing utensils. Why, I'll bet he could sell file folders and envelopes as well. Oh, Jon means his voice. He rushes awkwardly through "I Want You Back," by the Jackson 5. His voice is still good, but his pacing sounded just off on that. Maybe you really need the music on that song to sound right.
up is Kiira Bevins. They remind us that Randy was the only one who could stand her, but that he wouldn't shut up about her and drove Simon and Paula crazy. And now, here she is, teaching Randy a valuable lesson about listening to his peers. She's awful. I don't know what the hell she's singing, and nor do the judges. It sounds almost like the mic is having technical difficulties while she's singing, but it's just Kiira, vocally hopscotching her way up and down the circle of fifths on a pogo stick, blindfolded. Randy has the good sense to look horrified for having created this monster. In a confessional, Kiira, in a tacky red windbreaker, tells us she thinks she's going to make it to the final thirty-two. She says, "My voice -- I've never heard anything like it." That's just one of those wonderfully oblivious statements that doesn't even require a joke from me. I bet the editors about had an orgasm when she said that. up is Michael Keown. Shut up, Michael. Shut up, Michael's eyebrows. Pick a spot on his forehead and stay there, dammit. Who the hell is Diana Degarmo? Marque has discovered the joy of sleevelessness.
Ryan tells us that the contestants' responses to "Why are you the American Idol?" question were even more revealing than the singing. Indeed, all of these performers think they are the best in the whole wide world, and they're awesome and sexy and their farts cure brain tumors. Some girl quotes that line about how it "hasn't been broughten [sic], yet" from that awful teen movie parody that failed because the people who made it were too dumb to realize that Bring It On was already a parody of teen movies. Others are more honest, saying they're in it for the Benjamins. One overly perky cookie-cutter blonde says she's going to set our televisions on fire with her perkiness. She reminds me of Sandra Lee on the Food Network. (Sidebar: If you haven't watched the wonderfully awful Semi-homemade Cooking with Sandra Lee, you must. Bitch is crazy. She is to cooking what American Idol is to music.)
up is Alan, who fondles himself while he's singing. He's singing "On Broadway," but he's rubbing his own chest, and even nearly grabs his own groin. Even Ryan is uncomfortable. How sexually inappropriate do you need to be before Ryan gets creeped out? Paula looks at him uncomfortably, thinking, "And this is why we kick out our one-night stands and don't actually talk to them." Alan's response to the "Idol" question is even worse. He says that he's fated to be the American Idol, because if you took the "meric" out of "American" and moved the "L" from "Idol" up, you'd have "Alan Idol." Actually, you'd have "Alan Ido," you moron. Also, if you mix the letters around in "Alan Ritchson," you get "A ranch sin lot." Also: "Rascal hit non." Also: "Carnal shit no." Also: "Anal inch rots." And best of all: "Trashcan loin." Anyway, the editors have fun moving the letters around on American Idol to show what "Alan Idol" might look like. I know I make comments, but it does seem like the behind-the-scenes crew have stepped up a bit this season to improve the production quality of the show. It actually looks like 19 Entertainment spent about a fifth of the revenue it made last year on improving the show.
Simon is annoyed by all this, or perhaps he's just feeling like he hasn't had enough opportunity today to be mean. He calls the kids back on stage and tells them that the reason they're asking them all the "Idol" questions is because they need something to separate the "good kids" from the ones with "something extra," because he thinks they all look boring. He thinks they're more boring than contestants, and he wants them to step it up, personality-wise. God, thanks for encouraging their attention-seeking behavior, Simon!
The kids are sent back to the hotel with homework: they are given ten song titles, and are ordered to come up with a song (both the tune and the lyrics) to perform the day. Oh, this should be fun. What, did they run out of unwanted Cathy Dennis castoffs to foist upon them? The pause button allows me to see song titles such as "Out of Control," "Pride" (ooh, they're trying to trick the gay ones to come out so they can eject them), "Limo Love" (the hell?), "Face of an Angel, Soul of a Devil," "Simon Sez," "10 Reasons Why I'm Leaving You," and "Always Darkest Before the Dawn." The kids are all freaking because they're only in this for the money and adoration and the idea that they should be expressing any sort of creative ability is just so unfair. The kids all get to work, except for Trashcan Loin and Lisa "All Sin Is Ow" Wilson, who hang out in the pool, all scantily clad and hoping a catalogue photographer shows up any second. The other kids all write while hanging out in rooms, halls, gyms, and harassing their friends on the phone.
Commercials. Look how quickly Subway dropped the whole Jared diet thing when they figured out a way to get money from the Atkins-obsessed.
When we return, Ryan "Satyr Careens" Seacrest narrates that it's the day, and the kids are all returning to A Historic Theater. After today's performances, the first round of cuts will take place. The kids all worry about their songs, except for Trashcan Loin, who continues flirting with the ladies. He tells us he finds all the pretty girls distracting. Well, just give him a mirror and I'm sure he'd be able to ignore them. Although that probably won't help him to prepare his song. Ryan, wearing a "21st Century Rock and Roll" t-shirt, tells us that if we think writing a song with original words and music is easy, we should try it. Okay:
Whatever happened to shame?
Why do we have to listen to so much lame?
Is anyone here to blame?
Nobody here deserves any level of fame.I wish the stage would collapse,
And all the singers remain there, trapped.
It's worse than Yo! MTV Raps.
I think they all really need to be slapped.
Actually, that was hard. The first singer we here is Eric Yoder, who sings to Paula "Bad Lap Luau" Abdul that he wrote this song for her, but he doesn't have anything interesting to say to her because he's not as smooth as Simon. What the hell is Paula wearing? She has on a green sleeveless top -- no, that's not right. She has sleeves somehow. But they're not connected to the top. But they clearly go with the top. But they're just there on her forearms. Just...sleeves. Simon "Coins Mellow" Cowell gives Eric props for sucking up more in a song than anybody has ever sucked up before. Lauren Enswiler sings about how she and her ex-boyfriend broke up. Turns out he was gay. She jokes in the song how they can flatiron their hair together. Wait, is Ryan her ex? Or Clay? Her song is pretty clever -- I defy Diane Warren to write a song that manages to fit the word "flatiron" in it.
up is Taryn Southern. Who? Anyway, she forgets the lyrics. To the song she wrote. For herself. About how Simon said she was just "another pretty girl" in the initial auditions, and how she wants to prove him wrong. Taryn forgot the words to her life, people. She needs a visit from Joe Pantoliano to straighten things out. Randy "Snack Darn Joy" Jackson makes some bland comment about how she flubbed the words but tried to work through it. Paula points out that auditions are hard, and Taryn needs to believe in herself. Simon points out that Taryn kept messing up where she was singing about how she was going to "prove she could do it." Simon says that she's probably not going to be the only one to forget the words. He's right. More contestants forget the lyrics to their own songs. That's just so sad. Doesn't it just seem that the harder it was for them to write these songs in the first place, the more likely they are to remember them? We breeze past all the losers we've never met before and land on John Stevens IV, who looks as though somebody has threatened to kill his parents if he messes up his son. He was the Dean Martin impersonator from New York. He gets through exactly one line -- the title of the song -- before forgetting the words. Paula says he's letting nerves get to him. Simon says that John was given fourteen hours to learn one song (which he also had to write -- but never mind), and worries that this is a sign that John isn't ready yet for the "big time." Simon tells the other kids in the crowd that if they haven't written out their lyrics, they've made a huge mistake.
Cassie LaBeau (she of the thirteen perfect syllables) tells us that the mistakes aren't scaring her -- they're encouraging her to try harder to remember her song. Then she comes out and forgets her song. Heh. Randy asks her what happened. Cassie says, "The lights are blinding my train of thought for this focus of song right now." Wuh? Those words don't go together that way. If this doesn't work out, maybe she can get a job writing for Donald Rumsfeld. Simon orders the lights turned out, so that she can try again. She forgets the words in the exact same place. Ha! Model Lisa tells us that she's forgetting the words already, but isn't she just so hot that it doesn't matter? She comes out and apologizes in advance just in case, and then she can only remember the first line. But she's so hot, how can you be mad at her? Simon tells them all that he doesn't care if their nerves are getting to them -- he's looking for a star that will keep him in strippers, and he's not interested in being their Debbie Allen.
Commercials. When we return, it's Michael "Enema Lick How" Keown's turn. God, he's just so smarmy. He sings his version of "Ten Reasons I'm Breaking Up With You" like he's the latest SNL lounge-act parody. And it's in a sort of monotone. Randy sings, mimicking Michael's voice, and tells him it was boring. Paula sings that she agrees. Out in the crowd, some of the kids whine about the assignment. Jon tells the camera that they may have to learn a song each day for this competition, but that's not how the music industry actually works. Until you get so strung out on drugs that you can't remember your own name, and then forget the words to your own songs in the middle of a concert that people have paid $89 to see. In the seats, away from the kids, Ryan tells us that there is a reason for this challenge, other than to try to get new songs for free. They don't really expect the Idols to write their own songs (even if they want to); they're doing this challenge to gauge how well the contestants have a "feel" for music, as well as how they can overcome a difficult situation with their "personality." So Lisa can't remember her song, but she waves her boobies at us and all is fixed.
up is Nicole "I Notice Rile" Tieri, who has decided to go for a trashier look, in a sleeveless belly-baring top that looks like it's made of red Saran Wrap and jeans. She has also chosen the "ten reasons" song title, and hams it up and overenunciates her way through it all. Simon can't stand her. At all. I think even Paula is tired of her. After she's done, Simon says that he can't tell whether Nicole's a singer who is funny, or a comedian who can sing. She insists that it's the first choice. Simon disagrees, based on this performance. Backstage, Nicole refers to herself in third person. Shut it. Get some therapy, deal with your attention issues, and then examine Kristin Chenoweth's career trajectory. There are worse fates.
Who is this Matt Rogers person? Oh, the picture I have here says "Rose Bowl." What the hell does that mean? Oh, Matt played in the Rose Bowl. Why didn't anybody say so? Matt is twenty-four? I think he might have misplaced a few years somewhere. He shouts out some stuff loudly and with little style for the "Out of Control" title. Simon says that he doesn't think Matt is taking the contest seriously. Matt says, "I'm sorry?" to Simon with this look on his face that says, "Did you just call me a pussy?" You guys can love this guy if you want to, but every nonverbal cue I get from him screams "raging asshole" to me. Matt insists that he's treating the contest seriously, and that everybody is just nervous and the lights and blah blah blah. Backstage, Matt reminds Ryan and us at home that he was in the Rose Bowl. Rose. Bowl. He says that this is harder, because if he falls, there's nobody there to pick him up, except Jesus. It's nice to know that Jesus made some friends here besides his brother, Noel. Ryan says that if Matt trips, he'll try to "get him up." Matt responds by giving him a big hug. I'm telling you, Ryan loves the big guys. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'd think Matt was hot if he weren't sending me such negative vibes.
Kira Scott is bound and determined to be crowned the most obnoxious bitch with bad cleavage support in all of reality television, and if you've seen the competition, you know that's a tough field. She comes out to sing a song titled "Midnight Calling," which she explains is a song her female friends -- and Simon's girlfriends -- can relate to about dating the wrong guy. Her voice is okay, and amusingly, this is probably the best-written song we've heard. It's about how she should have listened to her friends and not dated this guy who is bad for her. And she makes it clear during this song with appropriate pointing that Simon is this bad guy. And she sings as though she wishes her hand were a Taser gun, and she is visualizing Simon writhing around on the floor. When she's done, Simon jokingly asks her if they've ever dated before. She responds no -- he's never been that lucky. Everybody laughs. Then Kira cranks the bitch dial up to eleven and does the head-bobbing thing as she explains that Simon told her originally in New York that she wouldn't make it past the first round, and if Kira were to walk into a room, he wouldn't notice her. She says that Simon must therefore be gay. Because, as we all know, gay men don't ever notice or swarm to attractive female singers. The kids all respond and clap, secretly glad that they haven't shot themselves in the foot like this. Simon doesn't seem particularly concerned.
Randy starts telling Kira that he actually liked the song she wrote, particularly the chorus. Kira snottily tells him that she hadn't even gotten to the chorus yet. Well, okay then. Simon tells Kira that she doesn't need any more advice from them, because she's already very good at judging herself. Paula wants to lecture Kira about her attitude. She tells her she's "shocked" by Kira's complete disrespect. She says that Kira was actually winning them over with her performance, but hurt her chances with her "embarrassingly rude" display. She says that there's a fine line between attitude that's playful, and being completely nasty and disrespectful. Yeah, I kind of...have to...agree with...Paula. Sorry, it took me a little bit to spit that out. Kira was doing just fine without acting as though Simon ordered her parents beaten. She's still standing there with a posture that indicates she hates them all. It's beyond disliking Simon (which is a perfectly acceptable attitude) to this point where you have to question why she even came. Simon says that he's not bothered by Kira's comments to him. He says Paula got mad because Kira interrupted Randy's comments about the actual song, and acted as though she was upset because he had criticism. Kira's well-thought-out response: "I'm not mad. I'm not mad at all, 'cause you could just buy the single." Well, there's just really nothing you can say when the level of density in Kira's head reaches that of a black hole, so the judges just laugh at her. Paula repeats Simon's statement that Kira doesn't need their comments. Backstage, Kira tells Ryan that she doesn't think her comments crossed the line, and doesn't think anything she said is worse than anything Simon's said. Well, maybe not, but Simon's not in danger of being voted out.
And after that well-crafted display of bitchery (though we've gotten worse in our email), it's time for some judging and cutting. Yay! Uh...why did they set up Trashcan Loin's fooling around and then not show his audition? Bad editors! Bad! And we were doing so well, too. We get the montage of people worrying about their fates. Apparently, Kira's adrenaline rush wore off, and she realized she may have ruined her chances. Kiira and her stupid hat thinks she did really well today. I suspect that Kiira could come out and burp God Bless America and still think she's just the cat's meow.
Since the dramatic tension of placing contestants in different rooms before the cuts worked so well in seasons, they decided to bust it out early this time. The contestants have all been put in four separate rooms. They have no idea, of course, which rooms have contestants who are being cut. Or even whether one or two rooms are getting the heave-ho.
Commercials. When we return, Ryan reminds us about the cutting thing. In the first room is Fantasia, so we know the occupants of that room are not getting cut. Trashcan Loin is in there, too, because they can milk the eye candy for a few more rounds. Sure enough, the judges come in, and Paula tells them they're on to the round. They all clap and cheer and hug and pretend they like each other.
In Room Two are Cassie, John, and model Lisa, who all forgot their words and screwed up their songs badly, so they might be getting sent home. But Randy comes in and tells them that they're safe for another round. They call clap and cheer and blah blah blah happycakes. Oh, they didn't show Jon in there, too, or else we would have known they were staying.
In Room Three are Kiira and Lauren, as well as poor little Jefferey Dingle (hee!) who doesn't get anymore screen time. In Room Four are Kira, along with Nicole and Michael. Will both rooms be cut? Or only one? The judges enter Room Three, and Simon is given the task to tell them they're being cut. He doesn't bother milking it at all. See, that's why he's not as cruel as people think. Kiira starts crying. If only Randy hadn't looked in a mirror and noticed he had tattooed "CISUM DEREDRUM DNA DEPAR .B ARIIK" across his chest, he might have fought to keep her in the competition.
Off to Room Four. See, now Simon milks it, so you know everyone in that room is staying. He blathers on about how he hopes they've learned a lot about how the music industry works and the business is very unpredictable and you never know what might happen. Which makes it sound like they're being cut. But they're not. They're on to the round. They all cheer and clap and blah blah blah happycakes. Kira gives Simon a big fake hug as Ryan narrates to us that there are now eighty-seven contestants left in the competition.
Kiira is taking the rejection as well as you might expect from somebody who unironically declares her off-key warbling to be unique. She cries in an elevator with her parents, and whines that the judges voted to keep some people who were "unbelievably horrible." Well, yes, but they didn't keep all of them, Kiira. She goes on to spit out some profanities, and then declare that maybe this year they're looking for "trailer trash" to be American Idol. Hee. Despite her cheap, plastic appearance, I guess this description doesn't apply to Kiira, since she's a crappy pop clone who was produced in a lab, not a trailer. Even if she acts just like the trailer trash she's condemning. She pushes her dad away rudely, and declares to us that the show is going to suck because she's not on it, "and that's the God's honest truth." Well, I suppose it would be more interesting if we got to "enjoy" her utter cluelessness about her lack of talent each week. Maybe year's auditions will take place at A Histrionic Theater and she'll have more luck.
Commercials. When we return, the kids are still celebrating, and Nicole mugs tiresomely for the cameras some more. Now it's time to force in the drama. Group auditions! The girls and boys are all split up again, and ordered to make groups of three or four for the round to sing from a selection of songs. The girls get to choose from "You Can't Hurry Love," "Tell Him," or "Young Hearts Run Free." The guys pick from "Tell Her About It," "Never Gonna Give You Up," or "Up On The Roof." I think those are good choices that don't favor either sex. The first song in each group has familiar lyrics that should be easy to remember. The second song is a little less familiar, but the lyrics are pretty repetitive. The final song is a little older (and in a lower range), but allows for more vocal choices. Man, they sound awful while they're singing these songs for the first time.
So the kids all gather, and the background music promises us that drama is coming. Or possibly spy hijinks. It sounds kind of like spy hijinks music. Amy says outright that she's not sure whether she wants Nicole to be in her group. God knows she doesn't want to be the second-quirkiest person in her group. At 2 AM, Trashcan Loin isn't playing in the pool again, but he and his group still haven't settled on a song. Okay, if you have half a brain here (yeah, I know), at this point you should just settle on the easiest song, since you've already wasted so much time. For me, that would be "Tell Her About It." Lana, meanwhile, can't find a group because she sucks and she can't remember lyrics and nobody likes her. Elsewhere, some girls work on being fierce. Meanwhile, the three guys from Hawaii (Sonny, Jonah, and Clifford) spend a lot of time synchronizing some gesture to indicate their Hawaiinness. Jesus and his apostles (George Huff and Matt Rogers) practice as well. I guess Jesus doesn't take that whole "love your brother" thing too seriously, because Noel's nowhere to be seen. We cut back to see that Trashcan Loin and his group have selected "Never Gonna Give You Up," and plan just to practice all night. Elsewhere, Melissa and Charly can't find Model Lisa, who is supposed to be their partner, but is probably too busy drooling over her own hotness to practice.
Commercials. The night continues, and Lana still doesn't have a partner. Finally, Nicole and Amy let her into their group. Meanwhile, Bri is upset because she's in a group with somebody who insists that they dance. Bri insists that she doesn't dance, because she's a "white girl." And, you know, "very, very butch." I'm trying to think if any of the butch lesbians I know like to dance, but I'm coming up empty. (Of course, none of the gay guys I know -- including myself -- can dance either, so I'm not trying to traffic in stereotypes here.) She continues to complain that she didn't pick them -- she got stuck with them, and she can't remember their names, and they've never even heard of Ani DiFranco, and it's going to be a very, very long night. Bri complains that one of the girls in the group has a stage mom who is driving them crazy. Apparently, the mom keeps singing harmony during their performances, which isn't exactly going to help them when they get on stage. So Bri eventually got tired of the antics and told them she was going to bed.
Meanwhile, Jesus isn't in a state of grace right now, either. Matt and George have decided they've practiced enough, and want to get some rest. What with the two of them having a combined age greater than the weight of many of the female contestants, they need that rest, or else their rheumatism will act up the day. Matt curls up in bed and insists that sleep is important. Out in a hall, Jesus says that they aren't supposed to sleep, because they need to get things perfect. Meanwhile, Dramatic Irony practices his scales in the elevator to prepare for tomorrow.
: we'll discover that we probably should have ignored most of the crap they just showed us. Terrific.