A Snitch, A Switch, and Some Bitches

Major hugs, kisses, props, and ponies to AB Chao and Alex Richmond for filling in and helping out when I accidentally taped over the last round of auditions. I'm getting so old, people. I think in a couple of years I'll forget how to operate a VCR entirely and will have no choice but to become a really bad comedian.

Previously: I did not think Alden was really, really hot. I didn't. Shut up.

The very beginning of this episode got cut off, but I know I didn't miss anything other than a recap of all the stuff we've already seen. My tape cuts in with the kids grabbing their luggage at the Los Angeles airport to head out for the round of auditions. It turns out that some of them were on the same plane as Tony Bennett. After a cameraman explains to the kids who Tony is, they act like they're in awe. For those of you who fear that Tony's one of those inaccessible celebrities, you'll be happy to hear that he waits at the luggage carousel just like all us commoners. Of course, they cut away before they show his personal assistant actually riding down the chute, holding them, because Mr. Bennett doesn't like to get any scratches on his tweed $400 Hartmann Travel Master garment bag. ["I stepped on his foot one time, wearing a really lethal pair of boots, and he was very gracious about it." -- Sars] Tony tells a cameraman, "I was the Britney Spears of my day." The brat pack was all abuzz when he danced with that snake while singing "I've Grown Accustomed" at the Sands. Ryan "Down Boy" Seacrest can't resist voicing over the encounter with a thoroughly predictable "they left his bags in San Francisco" joke. Don't strain yourself trying to be funny. It takes away from all time you can spend in the tanning booth.

The kids load into earth-destroying [product-placed vans and SUVs] and are brought to a "Hollywood" hotel. I'll be using quote marks around all references to Hollywood, as it seems they're just as indiscriminate in throwing around the name as they were last season. They could be in Bakersfield for all I know. The quarterfinalists all gather in one of those cookie-cutter convention halls that are on the first floor of every mid-range hotel on earth. I think they just bring a box into an empty room, pull a spring, and the entire thing -- bland wall coverings, hideously patterned carpeting, boring pseudo-deco sconces, plastic potted plants, and peach-and-goldtone chairs -- just inflates to fill the space. They're greeted by Simon "Karma Killer" Cowell and Randy "Feed Me" Jackson. Simon tells them that one person in this room is going to be rich and happy in about five months' time. Dammit, I've pretty much used up all my jokes on that line. He said the same thing last season. I believe I observed that that person would be Simon. I would just like to point out that I was correct. We get some brief shots of some of the contestants from the round (and for some, that will be the last time we see them), before everybody heads off to bed for the evening.

Ryan's voice-over tells us it's day two, while a caption on the bottom of the screen at the exact same time says it's day one, so hooray for quality television! The 234 quarter-finalists are dragged over to the Alex Theater in dozens of gas-guzzling SUVs. If Simon Fuller ever meets Arianna Huffington, he's in for an earful. I've been informed that the Alex Theater is actually in Glendale. If the other things I've heard about Glendale are true, it probably doesn't mind being confused with Hollywood. Glendale is like a hooker who lets you call her by your uptight ex-girlfriend's name while you're having dirty sex. As we see shots of the kids milling around, Ryan idiotically voices over that the kids were unaware that half of them would be going home after today. How could they not know that? Why the hell do they think they're there? Shut up, moron.

Ryan also tries to convince us that the kids don't know what's ahead, even though what's up ahead is the exact same thing as last year, so far. The kids tromp out in groups of ten to sing again briefly for Simon, Randy, and Paula "Cry Me A River" Abdul, who for some reason wasn't at the hotel yesterday. One of the first we hear is Frenchie Davis, who tells them all that she should be an American Idol because she's sassy. She actually says that even though she doesn't have hair flowing down her back and isn't a size two, she insists that she's "fabulous." And she's not going. She's telling us again that she's not going. Again. Still. I think that's Sean behind her. He's bleached his hair. I don't think we ever see him again. Good luck with that Asian R&B thing, Sean. Bye!

up is Marcus Curtis. We don't actually hear him sing or anything, but he pulls out a ring and shows it to the judges. Paula jokes (I think) that Marcus just asked her to marry him. There's some non-humor about Marcus clarifying that he wasn't asking Simon. Well, Marcus seems as likely to actually be as romantically interested in Paula as Mario Cantone, so I can see how Simon might get the wrong idea. This is all to establish Marcus as an ass-kisser while avoiding the subject of whether or not he can actually sing. up are those creepy too-close twin girls. They talk in unison. They give the requisite twin speech about being "double the blah blah blah." They sing in unison. They're creepy. , Ruben sings well, although I'm thinking he needs to stop dressing like a ten-year-old schoolboy. A girl named Rene and a guy named Bettis (I figured I had to include their genders, just so you'd know) sing well. Patrick Lake, with his slicked back long hair and his shirt with a flame pattern some guy might get on the side of his Thunderbird, says that he's an American Idol because he's all about rock and roll. And rock and roll is where it's at! Then he bursts into "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend." No, but that would have been awesome. Some girl allegedly named Jessica Ramos melodramatically declares that if you cut her, she'd bleed music. I swear I think that's Natalie Burge. The same over-crimped hair, the same intense, creepy eyes demanding your attention -- run! It's Natalie! Some dipshit named Jayson blathers on about what a player he is with ridiculously ugly helmet hair. Candice Coleman says that she wants to be the American Idol because she "pretty much sucks at everything else." Ah, refreshing honesty. I'd say something like, "I want to be the American Idol so that stores will give me stuff for free."

We're treated to an amusing clip show of various contestants saying that they were "born to" be performers or that it's their "destiny." Outside, they show a couple of stage mothers pretending to argue over which daughter will become the idol while secretly hoping that they'll be offered their own sitcom together on UPN. It's entirely likely, ladies. Keep it up! Stage Moms: coming to the UPN fall 2003-04 schedule. In the pilot episode, the two girls both land roles in the same nationwide talent show, and the two families decide to move into the same Glendale (oops, "Hollywood") apartment to save money. Hijinks ensue! Projected series run: three episodes. Will be replaced with reruns of that week's episode of Enterprise.

And now it's time for the first round of cuts. They do it exactly the way they did it last time. They have some people step forward; then they tell one of the rows that they're going home. But sometimes it's the front row and sometimes it's the back row. Why would they do this rather than just calling out the numbers of whoever's staying or going? Because then they couldn't get humorous and humiliating moments like the one we're about to see. They tell some blonde girl in a black outfit designed for the far-less-sexy-and-revealing Midwest-bound traveling production of Chicago to step forward. She claps her hands and vibrates with joy in the mistaken belief that she's being kept on for the round. She hasn't. Her row is cut. Her happiness turns to shock, then disbelief, then embarrassment. She heads off the stage to find a place where the gin is cold and the piano's hot.

The creepy twin girls were also cut, so they can go back home and be uncomfortably close off-camera. Some other girl cries and says she doesn't want to go back to school. The way she's carrying on, I guess she must regret matriculating at Hot Needles Under The Fingernails University. We get some clips of the people who made it celebrating. Some of them are recognizable. Some of them aren't. Or perhaps some of them are supposed to be recognizable, but aren't. There's no sign of Tirrell at all.

Outside the Alex Theater, Ryan strolls down the sidewalk -- and gee, you'd think the sidewalks would be cleaner in "Hollywood" -- to explain that it's midnight, and the judges have cut the number of contestants in about half. But having learned from Survivor, they realize that they have to put in at least one twist per season in order to keep it from being exactly like the last season. So there's a new test for the remaining contestants; they're given one of five sets of lyrics, but no melody. Their challenge is to come up with a melody of their own that matches the song. That way, if they do a good job and also win the contest, they don't have to pay anyone to -- oh, sorry, I was momentarily overcome with pure cynicism. Where did that come from? We see clips of the confused kids practicing, wondering how they actually became part of this process rather than just the product.

Commercials. We return to a dawn of a new day in the gold-paved streets of "Hollywood." Ryan strolls past a group of practicing kids and tells us the same thing he just told us before we went to commercials. They do the line of ten again before the judges, and first up is our singing Marine, Joshua Gracin. Apparently I was incorrect when I declared him gay. He has a wife and child. I should have known better. No self-respecting gay Marine would be seen in public with those man-boobs. He salutes, and I roll my eyes. To be fair, it looks like he's trying to keep from laughing, so he knows it's a gimmick. He sings some song about a storm, and it's got a country twang, but he totally set it to the tune of Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors." Paula and Simon both like his voice. There's no sign of Randy and no explanation of his absence. Not even the phony "prior commitment" thing.

Following up, we've got Si-NOT-ra, brat-packing the lyrics to some song. Good thing Bennett's long gone. Clay has lost his glasses and his red dye, and it somehow makes him look even nerdier to me. His voice is still very strong, and he sings his lyrics like it's the opening stage-setting song in a musical. The one before the "I want" number. Equoia didn't lose her foot, but I think the brown recluse venom straightened her hair. She goes for the Whitney Houston-style wailing.

Of course, we can't have too much good singing. we get Stephen, who pulls off one of the sleeves of his jacket (but not the other) and wears a black felt baseball cap sideways (no, really) while he sings off-key with the eyes-squeezed-shut, fists-clenched, shitting-out-the-music look. For some reason I thought his name was spelled "Stefan," because it just seemed appropriately poseur-ish for this twit. Simon stops him, just so he doesn't take any more clothes off. He tells Stephen that the performance was "ghastly." Except Stephen thinks that "ghastly" is a compliment. Heh. Simon has to explain to him what "ghastly" means. No wonder these kids don't want to go back to school. They're probably all still in the fifth grade.

up is Vanessa, who rocks the house again with a solid sense of tone and melody. I think she actually sounds like the girl with "Fever" would have sounded if she had a stronger voice and better flow. Some blonde girl named Krystal comes up and sings some song -- and Simon immediately starts laughing, so I'm sure it was all staged -- about being upset that there are only two judges instead of three. The last words of the song are, "Screw you." Everybody laughs. She has a nice voice, anyway.

Awwww, let's remind the audience of Coffey's little [product-placed baby] in a video flashback. Now let's remind the audience that Coffey can't sing very well. His inability to hold a note without warbling all over the place is even more pronounced when he's asked to come up with a melody. He sounds like one of the embarrassingly bad auditions from the first round.

The hammer comes down again on the remaining contestants. Coffey is sent home. The cute boy who gave Ryan his shirt is sent home. A grown man cries like a little baby. Oh, dude, the fame-whoring doesn't have to end here. Just ask that one dueling girlfriend who was just on Elimidate. I was kidding when I made that joke back during the Pasadena auditions. I guess I'll have to be more careful of what I say.

After this is said and done, we're left with thirty-one boys and forty-nine girls. So now it's time for those group songs, because even though they're pretty much utterly worthless, they know it brings some drama to this otherwise boring round. The kids are separated by gender and given songs to practice together. We hear all the boys practicing "Kiss from a Rose" and the girls practicing "Band of Gold." And they promise us the requisite drama in the form of misguided party boys.

Commercials. We return back to the kids gathering together around the hotel to practice. I really hope the show was forced to rent the whole building for the evening and no poor innocents who had come to town to see the Chinese Theater ended up trying to sleep here while these brats were singing all night. Marcus tells us he likes his group because it's got a "a soprano, an alto, and a tenor" in it. Uh, aren't you supposed to be singing with the boys, Marcus? I don't think there are any sopranos in your group.

Speaking of Sopranos (see what I did there?), we cut over to Julia DeMato, who is pretty much being ignored by her groupmates, Kim Caldwell, Stephanie Schultz, and Elizabeth Dickerson. Kim says to Stephanie and Elizabeth that she needs to change and eat and meet in her room in an hour to practice. Julia is standing nearby, but she's not being included in this group conversation. I honestly get the impression that they're trying to pretend that she's not there. Although I'm sure they're all wound up and might not have even noticed that they were cutting her out.

Up in his room, Stephen is on the phone with a talent scout from Hubris Records, telling him that he and a couple of guys are going to go out partying for awhile, but he's sure they're going to make it to the round anyway. Stephen is joined by Alden, who I never thought was hot, ever, and they wander from room to room, trying to find people to go partying with them. Everybody looks at them like they're idiots, and declines.

Downstairs, Julia waits for her group, which hasn't shown up. Of course, Kim did say to meet in her room, so I'm not sure what's going on. They show her talking to one of the other group members (we can't see which one), so obviously she tracked them down at least once. Apparently, one group member is AWOL or something, and the invisible group member tells her they aren't ready yet.

Meanwhile, Stephen and Not-Hot Alden continue bugging people. Stephen mugs and plays to the camera like the complete tool that he is during all of this. He's such a ham that Jewish people can't even come within fifty feet of him. Nobody wants to have anything to do with them.

Julia is still waiting at a table in the conference room or the lobby or somewhere. To my surprise, we actually hear the cameraman asking her what happened to the rehearsal. He has a rich, deep baritone voice, like Shaddoe Stevens. The cameraman sounds like he could possibly sing better than many of the guys. She says that one person in her group is in the room, but the other two are still eating. So we know that, at this point, she's at least making an effort to figure out who is where.

Unable to find more party boys, Stephen and Alden booze it up with one of the contestants' mothers down in the hotel bar. The mom looks awfully young. It might be Natalie Galan's hot mom.

But salvation (or more likely its many antonyms) comes at the hands of Corey "I have pubic hair growing out of my head" Clark, who is in a group with Patrick and some other guy. They're actually rehearsing, but Corey decides he's had enough for the evening. He promises to meet up with his group the morning at 6:30 AM. He meets up with Stephen and Alden to head out. Ryan voices over that Stephen and Alden had found their "wing man," just to set the appropriate tone of "Icky Chipsters On The Loose" for the night out. Some girl is following them, too, but I guess she doesn't make a good story. Up in his room, Patrick whines that he'd like to party, too, but he's "here for a reason." You know how that Sprung Monkey song goes: "Party like a rock star, go to bed at ten." Out in some cab or whatever, ugly Alden waves his laminated American Idol credentials around and openly talks about how people will want to hang with them when they find out they're on the tee-vee. See, this crosses the line of fame-whoring. It's all supposed to be on the down-low. We're not supposed to actually see you talking about fame-whoring. It's supposed to be like second nature. It's no fun to see it all planned out.

So the guys show up at some club, and for some unknown reason, the show chooses "Ladies Night" as the music for this montage. I thought that was for bachelorette parties. I guess they couldn't play something from Andrew W.K., or else this entire segment would just look like a beer commercial. But they should have something from the latest volume of Frat Rock, at least.

As the party boys hang with the fame-whore whores (they're not pretty enough to be fame-whores on their own, so they hope for a taste of the taste of fame the guys get from being on the show by being filmed with the guys), the others continue their practice back at the hotel. Julia continues to sit alone at her table. Ryan narrates that Julia said that the girls said they were still eating. It seems clear that she does know where they are and that they're giving her the brush-off, at least from this particular perspective. On the other hand, she's letting them. She could just give a simple "I'm going to join you then," and plop down to them. Seriously, I think we've all had to deal with this childish bullshit, and the best way is to simply refuse to play along.

We get a montage of various fame-whore whores making out with the boys. Julia sits and waits. Behind her, we see the sign for the restaurant, so if the girls are really in there eating, they know where she is. She tells us that she's worried. She says she's sure she can sing well, but she's afraid of going up there and "looking stupid."

Which is our ironic segue back to the club, where Hideous Alden is riding a mechanical bull. Good god. Okay, if you're in a bar and you see a mechanical bull, and it's not a country-Western bar, and it's not 1985, the only appropriate response is to turn around and leave. I'd make a Drakkar Noir joke, but Djb has laid claim to them all for the time being. For the three hours, we cut back and forth between Corey, Alden, and Stephen partying and Julia sitting at her table worrying. We get it already. The boys are morons. Julia is abandoned. The other girls in her group are evil bitches. Of course, no cameraman seems to have bothered to follow those other girls to find out if they're actually practicing without her or ditching her or whatever. It could be an actual miscommunication thing. But that doesn't make good drama, so let's not think about that.

Commercials. Denim is a buffalo repellent. Wow, how did they take a movie with Ben Affleck, Jennifer Garner, and Colin Farrell all in leather and make it look so boring?

We return the morning, and of course, Corey, Alden, and Stephen are late for the bus to take them to the round of auditions. Patrick is stuck calling around to try to find Corey. In a hallway, the three (alleged) catty bitches are practicing some more without Julia. Kim and her trashy drawn-on eyebrows tell the camera that they've been trying to reach Julia all morning without luck. Julia and her stupid newsboy cap and ugly Strawberry Shortcake peasant blouse come down and explain that she has decided to be childish and petty, too, and has decided to come down when she's good and ready and leave them waiting for her this time. So now I'm not on anybody's side -- not that I had much sympathy before.

Alden and his stupid sunglasses have shown up, and he's sent to go find Stephen, who is suddenly being called "Stefan." I knew I hadn't gone crazy. They changed his name right in the middle of the competition. Why am I not surprised? Alden goes and beats on the door to Stefphan's room. Corey finally shows up downstairs and pretends that he thinks he's not late. Hate him so much. It's 8:20 AM and the editors kindly oblige us by reshowing the part where he promised to meet the others at 6:30. Asswipe. Stefphan finally shows up in an idiotic sideways (of course) white fur baseball cap. They run off to the bus, where some obnoxious misogynistic PA calls them "ladies" because they're late. Maybe he's the one who picked the musical accompaniment for the boys' night out.

Back in the hotel, Julia confronts the other girls in her group. They're totally stone cold to her. Kim dismissively tells her that they already practiced. Julia says she's ready, then, picks up her bottle water, and stomps off. Kim totally makes a face at Julia as she walks away, but the camera cuts away, so you can only see it if you watch very closely. I think she sticks out her tongue at her.

In a moment totally not set up by the show's producers -- scout's honor! -- Julia's sister happens by as Julia's sitting out in the hallway alone. Despite Julia's half-hearted request not to, Sis storms in on Kimberly and the Kimettes' breakfast and proceeds to tell them how they're supposed to handle this group sing. They try to pretend that she's not even there. Sis goes on to give one of those "I don't know where you're from, but where we're from, we don't" speeches that doesn't work on anybody, anywhere. Because everybody knows that whatever they say they don't do, they totally do, too. Lying, cheating, gossiping, sodomywhatever. They do. Sis claims that nobody's two-faced or catty where she comes from. Unless she's from Mars, she's full of shit. ["Are you kidding? Those Martians are a bunch of hypocritical bitches." -- Sars] Kimberly apparently tries to say something, but Sis gets all up in her face (saying "grill" is out now, right?) and tells her to have respect. The total impact that Sis is having on these girls: none. Hell, if I were them, I'd treat Julia even worse, and I don't even like any of these girls.

Misogynistic PA leads the boys to a lot for their auditions, again calling them "ladies." How is it that nobody is kicking this little twerp's ass? It's not like he's a drill instructor. Ah, Hollywood. Always abuse whatever power you're given, no matter how inconsequential. The boys practice in parking lots, in bathrooms, or wherever they can find space. Patrick frets to the camera because they haven't had enough practice because of Corey sucking. Don't ever name your kids "Corey." It's just a recipe for disaster.

The boys are brought into the auditorium, and Simon, remembering last year's disaster, reminds the boys to remember the lyrics. It's just so sad, really. They're allegedly singers. It's like having to tell a mathematician to remember the number six. And the truly sad part is that, no, they can't memorize the lyrics to one simple song in one night.

But before we get to all the sucking, we get Ruben's group, which also includes Rickey and some other guy nobody cares about. They don't even bother to show him singing. Ruben is again dressed like a little boy. They sing "Superstar" and do a good job with it. Rickey's a little off to me, but the judges seem to like it. Simon compares Ruben to Luther Vandross, because of the size, of course. Simon warns the other boys that they've got a lot to live up to now.

Stefphan and Alden's group practices outside, and they suck bad. Karma: she's not just a contestant from last season. Stefphan hams up to the camera, delusionally insisting that he'll hit all his notes. And I'm sure we'll hear them crying in pain from the abuse.

And of course, we get the montage of forgotten lyrics. They even provide helpful captioning of what the lyrics are in their handy Comic Sans Talent font. J.D. Adams is among those who forget the words. He's also got George Michael hair from the '80s, so that's two strikes against him there. Some guy tries to get them to start the song over, but they won't. Jacob forgets the lyrics and sings about how much he likes Barry Manilow (the song they're all forgetting is "Trying To Get The Feeling Again"). Si-NOT-ra forgets the lyrics. Marcus forgets the words. Nobody who sang this song can seem to remember the words. Simon's wearing that "Daddy's getting the belt now" expression again.

After it's all done (and Barry Manilow has left at least three angry voicemail messages with his lawyer), Simon starts by criticizing the guys in the audience for applauding for these awful performances. He quickly pulls out the hyperbole and declares it all to be the worst thing he's ever heard. Paula thinks he's being unfair by lumping them all in together when he should be giving individual critiques. Simon doesn't care.

So now would be the perfect time to show our wayward party boys. Corey's up with Patrick and some guy named Brian we've never seen before. We get black-and-white flashbacks of Corey riding the mechanical bull, because that happened so long ago that they didn't have color film. They're singing "Kiss from a Rose." Patrick starts them off, and he's okay. He's a little breathy and a little sharp and he's standing like he's leaning against a wall or something, even though he's in the middle of the stage. Corey takes over from him. Let's have an exact transcription of his first line of lyrics: "Loooove remains / In drawback the pain with the wheel." No, really. And as far as pitch goes, he sounds like a fourteen-year-old girl. Actually, he sounds like Gilda Radner impersonating a fourteen-year-old girl. So he changes the lyrics to sing to Paula to try to disguise the sucking. He walks down from the stage and over to Paula to "serenade" her. He is so unbelievably off-key. Edgar sang better, for god's sake. But of course Paula loves it. She describes his caterwauling as "a little pitchy" but that's it. Simon and Randy aren't very impressed. Simon says it obviously wasn't planned, judging from Patrick's reaction, and that Corey didn't sing well. Randy tells Corey that if he's going to go serenade somebody like that, he's got to be in tune.

Commercials. The Pulse is back, y'all! Get all the trashy, sensationalized stories you already heard two weeks ago right here.

We return for our final group of boys, which includes Stefphan and Alden the Elephant Man. We get more black-and-white flashbacks of their partying all those many years ago. Bettis is also in their group, but didn't go out partying, so he sounds relatively okay. Not spectacular, but okay. Then Alden's turn swings around, and he's meh. I thought he was awful the first time I saw this, but actually he's just blah. He's singing with his eyes closed, and if you freeze-frame, it looks like he's suffering from really bad stomach cramps. Then it's Stefphan's turn, and of course, he's awful. He's not in tune, in time, on key, or any other little prepositional phrase that applies to a good musical performance. He forgets the words, and there's three seconds of blessed silence. It's like being in the eye of a hurricane. Then he revs back up with more awfulness. His stage presence is ridiculous. He strides across the stage sideways, lifting his legs up high to pass over imaginary hurdles. It's embarrassingly, entertainingly awful.

After he's done, Daddy gives his lecture. Simon tells the boys that he doesn't think they're taking this part of the competition seriously. Oops -- sounds like they figured out that they only put this part in for the drama. Simon tells Alden and Stephfan that they're both insults to the competition. The twin tools stick their chins out in defiance. It's a shame they're goners or I could rechristen the Black & Decker nickname. The boys are all sent out of the auditorium so that the judges can talk. They all worry outside. Joshua tells us that the judges are all pissed off. Well, at least they can't give him latrine duty. The judges call all the boys back in and send them up onstage. Then Simon tells them all that they have a problem because everybody was just so awful. Except for Ruben's group. Or so we're led to believe. Anyway, they're not going to cut the boys until after they listen to the girls, too. Like they're going to cut all the boys out of the competition or something. I think they're afraid that the girls might suck, too, and if they cut too many boys first, they might not have enough left over for that final dramatic cut at the end of the show. Randy tells them that this should be the most important thing going on in their lives right now. For most of them, it's pretty much the only thing going on in their lives. Paula observes that the competition is just going to get harder, and they're going to be even busier if they make it to the rounds. Simon points out that performers are able to learn songs very quickly and operate on little sleep. He points out that at the end of the day, it's not like they're working in a coal mine. Though, honestly, most of them would probably have more rights and would probably earn more money if they were.

Then Marcus tries to play teacher's pet some more and says he doesn't know what happened. He says that some guys went out and partied, but quickly declares he didn't, because he's an ass-kisser. Of course, that didn't stop him from forgetting the lyrics himself, so I don't know who he thinks he's helping. I don't think he wants them thinking about the fact that he screwed up as much as the others, so he should have just kept his mouth shut. He smarms that he's sure whatever decision the judges make will be the right one. Foreshadowing, my old friend. He's come to hang with me again. And he brought salsa verde [product-placed tortilla chips] with him. He's so considerate!