Tuesday. They've brought in Melodramatic Announcer on Tuesdays now to voice-over the show's opening. Or perhaps he's possessed Ryan. He reminds us that last week, "the hopes of twelve people lay at the mercy of the nation's whim." Thanks for reminding me that I hate people. I'm beginning to take Tsathoggua's side in all of this. He reminds us (melodramatically) that Vanessa was booted, and says melodramatic things like "the screw twists ever tighter." Suddenly the show has turned into an Agatha Christie novel. Tonight the kids will sing again, and one will get booted.
Credits. Ryan "Chasing The Sun" Seacrest greets us from atop the seal, dressed like a participant in Bumfights. Hee hee. "Bum." Anyway, he greets the cheering crowd. A row of Marines is there. Melonbar is there with her "All aboard the Clay Train" sign. I don't see her at the moment, but I figure I'll get that out of the way in case I miss it later. Hi, Melonbar! If anybody out there is able to sneak in a "Shut up, Corey!" sign, I'd appreciate it. Ryan tells us that the kids tonight will be singing movie themes, which of course is a perfect transition to remind us that Kelly (deleted) Clarkson and Justin Guarini's movie will be out soon. What amazing timing! And Kelly's here tonight to pimp her movie for us by singing a song. Incidentally, for week's theme, contestants will sing their favorite [product-placed cola] jingles.
Ryan introduces the kids out onto the stage. The women are all dressed ridiculously. Ruben is wearing a red and white 205 shirt. So it's business as usual. Then Ryan introduces Simon "Ruthless People" Cowell, Paula "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" Abdul, and Randy "Eat Your Heart Out" Jackson. Ryan recites stupid movie-related jokes as he introduces them, and my computer refuses to let me repeat them here. And this week, we get to see pictures of young Randy and his wild '80s styles. He's standing to Sammy Hagar while wearing a crazy little bolero hat. There are leopard prints. There is hair. Lots of hair. Square-shaped hair. You know, as ridiculous as he looks in retrospect, Randy was probably the height of style at that time. Of course, now he just wears whatever, so we have to have all our fashion fun at the expense of Paula and Ryan. Oh, and the kids.
Ryan starts blathering on to build up suspense about who the celebrity judge is tonight. Meanwhile, behind him, the words "Gladys Knight" appear on the monitor. Heh. She performed a theme to a James Bond, so that's enough to qualify her to guest judge. That's fine with me -- that means no Diane Warren. Which means no calls to poison control after I pour bleach in my ears. Gladys comes out, and the kids in the audience all cheer, pretending they know who she is. Gladys is really excited to be there, which is awfully cute. It's funny to see actual talented performers supporting the show. She points out the audience that her career started on a talent show like this. And she's worked with Randy before, too. She mimes blowing a kiss at Randy, although somehow it looks like she's miming passing a joint. Okay, then. Ryan pimps Gladys to the audience -- her show in Vegas is tops on the Strip, and she's involved in some movie. There are a lot of jokes about Gladys being afraid to sit to Simon. Let's move on, please.
How about a Gladys Knight clip show? Man, this one is going to encourage fame whores everywhere. She started singing at the age of four. She was "discovered" at age eight on some talent show. The Pips are founded. The group sings lots of songs. They win awards. She's far more successful than anybody involved with this show is likely to be. That includes you, Simon. When we head back to the stage, Ryan makes a joke about "Gladys Knight and the Drips" in reference to her sitting with the judges. Shut up, Ryan.
Time for the kiddies. We start off with an ear-screeching shriek tonight in the form of Corey Clark. Shut up, Corey. Okay, I've got three hours to recap and I'm tired and this show is terribly redundant and I hate everything. All the clip shows tonight are of these kids pretending that they're surprised at all the sudden fame. Why do all these desperate entertainment media people want to interview me? Why do they want to take pictures of me? Why am I standing around and posing for them? Why am I suddenly in an ungainly econo-sized limo? Yes, I'm sure none of them had any idea that this was going to happen. Hell, they didn't even know the show was going to be on television, I'm sure. So anyway, I'm going to just tell you anything interesting that happens during any clips. Just assume the rest is all, "What? You want pictures of li'l ol' me?" variety. Corey insists to us that he's made a lot of sacrifices. It's not easy to give up the booty and the Tanqueray, you know.
Corey heads out to the stage in a sweater in neutral tones and oversized pleather pants. And he's clutching a sweat rag. No, really. He wipes his face with it before he starts to sing.
Dinner's done, the day has ended,
Peace and quiet have descended.
Now it's just the two of you,
And your Maxwell House.
Pour a cup; enjoy the flavor.
Talk about what's new.
Spend some precious time together,
Maxwell House and you.
Get that "good to the last to the drop" feeling,
With Maxwell House, only Maxwell House
Gives you "good the last drop" feeling,
Maxwell house.
See, that old jingle has the added benefit that it was sung by Ray Charles, so this coffee commercial is about fifty times better than the awful shrieking that is currently emanating from my television as Corey butchers "Against All Odds." I was never fond of that song, but it certainly doesn't deserve to be treated like this. The audience sits stone-faced through this performance. When he hits some high notes (much in the way machine gun "hits" a target) we hear some cheering, but a pan over the audience shows a fairly muted reaction, so I'm not sure we can trust it.
Judges. Corey blathers about Randy's crazy hair in the pictures, like he's one to talk. Randy says he liked how Corey "pimped out" with the sweat rag. Randy liked it. Things were done, dawg. Paula seems to think Corey "took some risks" with his upper register, and that signified some sort of change. They say this every week. It's like they forget how awful he sounds right after each performance and are surprised again every week. Maybe he is in league with dark powers. He's not the one who will open the Seal of Tsathoggua. Rather, his singing will be used to keep bystanders at bay so that Tsathoggua and his spawn can feed once he's released. Gladys thinks Corey's wonderful and has "that range." That's not a good start, Gladys. Corey responds, "That's Gladys Knight, y'all." Uh, yeah. Does weed make you sweaty? Just asking. Simon finally has returned to the same universe that the rest of us are all living in to say the performance was okay, but some of the notes at the end sounded "downright painful." Some people boo, but I hear some people cheering, too. Ha! Corey's response is, "I'm glad you changed your shirt, Simon." Uh? Shut up, Corey.
Corey heads over to Ryan, who grabs the sweat rag and WIPES HIS FACE WITH IT! Ew! Ew, ew, ew, ewwwww! Even Corey is a bit horrified and comes out of his stoner haze to tell Ryan that he doesn't want the towel back. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes. Then he throws the towel out to some people in the audience who insist that they want it. If you see those people in the street, you have my permission to slap some sense into them.
Commercials. I fear that I'm the only person who finds Wanda Sykes to be terribly unfunny. ["Nope." -- Sars]
When we return, it's Ruben Studdard. Or as Ryan calls him, "Ruuuuuuuuuuben." And this, unfortunately, has led to audience members shrieking, "Ruuuube!" I find that amusing, given the definition of "rube." Ruben is from Birmingham. He is just shocked, shocked at all the fame.
Ruben heads out to the stage in his 205-wear to sing "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, because he's a Robin Williams fan. Yeah, that makes sense. Anyway, somebody I used to know actually paid a singer to perform this song at her wedding, and the bride was the most entertainingly melodramatic woman I've ever met in my life (she thought she was going to die during a canoe trip), so this song always makes me giggle just a little bit. Ruben's lovely. The audience loves him. Although, now I'm thinking he sounds more like Peabo Bryson than Luther Vandross. Oh, and he sings the lyrics in the wrong order, like he took the lines from each verse and mixed them all up and then put them back together randomly. I suppose it's a testament to the bland throwaway sentiments of the song that it doesn't really seem any different. If I had never heard the song before, I wouldn't have known.
Judges. Randy gives him a standing O. Paula loved him. We see a guy in the audience, probably Ruben's dad, wearing another 205 shirt. Gladys calls Ruben "the world's velvet teddy bear." Simon, of course, suddenly doesn't care about image, for reasons known only to whoever is responsible for keeping up with his mood swings, and says that Ruben's great because his recording voice is so wonderful. Ruben heads over to Ryan, who blathers on about nothing. Is Ruben nervous? No. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
up is Trenyce! Why, just the other day she was folding sweaters at The Gap, and now she's a celebrity! She's shocked! Shocked! She tells us she picked "I Have Nothing" from My Bodyguard because it's "so diva-like, and so [her]." Oh, please don't go there, Trenyce. Please be normal. You're my last hope. Please?
So Trenyce hits the stage in a low-cut red dress. And, well, she has the opposite problem of all the other female contestants. Her breasts aren't actually large enough for this look, and the result is that they look sort of triangular. It's a nice dress, but it's just the wrong cut for her. Anyway, she starts terribly breathy and a little flat, and I cringe. Who will I cheer for if she blows it? Well, other than Tsathoggua? Fortunately, she finds her footing by the time she gets to the chorus, and starts belting away wonderfully.
Judges. Randy sends his love with a side of "yo"s. The judges -- except for Simon -- give her a standing O. Paula loves Trenyce's stage presence and says she looks like she was born to be onstage. Gladys loved Trenyce's outfit and her "pipes," and tells her she really sold it to the audience. Simon whines about Trenyce's dress. He wants the kids to dress like kids. And by "like kids," I think he means "in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform or cheerleader outfit." That's just the impression I get. Anyway, he loved Trenyce's performance and says that it reminds him that had some awful "clowns" in the finals last season. Shout-out to Jim Verraros's old nickname? You be the judge. Trenyce heads over to Ryan, who asks if it's getting any easier. No, it's not. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
up is a clip show of the kids attending an event at the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences. Practically everything in this clip show has been, or will be, described yet again in the clip shows for the individual contestants. They are shocked -- shocked! -- that photographers want them to pose for photos. They're just little small-town folks. They didn't even realize there would be cameras! No, don't shoot me from that angle! Here, let me pose and twirl for you, because I'm just polite that way and not a total fame whore who would probably rather just do this all day long than actually perform. The kids attend some conference and tell folks in the audience who their personal influences are. Julia says she was motivated by Kelly's win. Wow, that's so sad. She's not motivated by a love of music or singing. She was motivated by somebody else winning. Rickey relates how his mother was always there for her on the bad days and sang "I Can Believe I Can Fly" to him, and he chokes up a little bit. Simon sits there with a bored "Why isn't anybody talking about me?" expression. He warns them that actual critics are much worse than he is. Until you actually become really, really famous, because then they all have to kiss your ass because they want to get interviews with you. The kids sing horribly. They get honorary memberships to the Academy. Yay, they earned their television fame whore licenses! Will any music academies open their doors for them? Hello? Bueller?
Commercials. When we return, Ryan blathers on about Simon and his girlfriend and whatever as a way to introduce the true love of Simon's life, his mum. She's sitting in the audience, and Ryan has her stand up and wave to the crowd. Amusingly, I believe the woman sitting right to her is Simon's actual girlfriend, but she's completely ignored. They blather about Simon for a few seconds. I don't care.
up is Clay Aiken, who in TWoP terms is the new Spike of our forums. If I have to explain it to you, you don't really want to know. At least we have the benefit of knowing that he's probably not an evil vampire. Although he is suspiciously pale. Clay is shocked! Shocked at all the people who want to take his photo, get his autograph, ravage him in a hotel room, and have his babies. There's a shot of a large dog drinking from a water fountain with Clay, which has nothing to do with anything, but when you get a shot like that, you run with it. People applaud for him! People pick out clothes for him! It's amazing!
Clay heads to the Seal to sing "Somewhere Out There," from An American Tail, about that cartoon mouse who learned to love America or something. I never saw the movie myself. I remember the song, though, because the year after it came out (when I was still in high school), several of the marching bands in my area were using it as their halftime show closer. Clay is wearing an untucked blue shirt and black pants. His singing is the way it usually is -- overenunciated and oversung, but good. Some of the held notes, though, are pretty bad. The audience cheers a note he holds just before the chorus, but it made my ears hurt. And that last note is absolutely dreadful. Not that anybody notices.
Judges. Randy still doesn't know where Clay's voice is coming from. Clay did, however, do his thing. Paula says that Clay's singing is "effortless" and she loves listening to him. Gladys gives Clay a standing O and calls him a "mystery." She says there's something "magical" about his look. Well, people are saying he looks like an elf. She says his voice is pure. Simon says, "I just love songs about mice." Who doesn't? Simon declares that Clay is the one to beat. Clay heads over to Ryan, who asks him what he's feeling. Clay doesn't know. He loves everybody. The feeling is apparently mutual. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Commercials. I don't understand soft-drink ads, but I totally understand Allstate's fixed annuity ad. Bring on the mid-life crisis.
When we return, it's time for Kimberly Caldwell. She was just a normal girl. Now she's famous! And wearing "crazy clothes"! To the surprise of absolutely nobody, she says this is "everything she ever wanted." Like a good fame whore, she helps out the network that is currently enabling her by bringing up the Oliver Beene premiere party, so they can show those clips again. She hams it up for the camera. Look at me! Look! I'm Kimberly! Look!
So apparently, the "movie" theme doesn't mean that you have to pick a song that was vital for any particular movie. It means you can pick a song that was played in any movie, ever. Kimberly has chosen "The Shoop-Shoop Song," because it was in Mermaids. Of course, it existed for decades before it was in that movie, but who cares about that? Maybe Charles will sing "Stuck In The Middle With You" because it was in Reservoir Dogs. Kimberly hits the stage in a sleeveless black lace belly-revealing blouse, and black and white polka-dotted skirt with a black lace wrap over it. Yeah, those are indeed "crazy clothes." It looks kind of like cross between mid-'80s Madonna and Minnie Mouse.
So if ever there were a song made to never, ever be sung alone on a stage, "The Shoop-Shoop Song" is it. The mysterious phantom back-up singers are tame and bland, and Kimberly looks absolutely ridiculous prancing around onstage without them. At least when Tamyra sang "A Fool In Love" last season, a song with a similar problem, she really rocked out and made it work. Kimberly prances around with her empty smile, pointing, like the former Branson singer that she is. She's terribly off pitch during the bridge. And she ends her performance with a cheesy "Yeah!" Awful. Oh, J.D. Adams is out there in the audience. I almost forgot to mention that. Because I don't care.
Judges. Randy's all about the cheese. He's obviously eaten quite a bit of it. He loves Kimberly's stage presence and the way she worked it onstage, dawg. We see a shot of Kimberly's family, and Kim blathers on about how much she loves them. Do you hear me, Mom? I love you! Please don't lock me in the closet overnight for going a little flat. Please? Paula loved the performance and the presence, et cetera. Gladys says Kimberly has a lot of charisma, but adds that she "sees [Kimberly] in the movies." Heh. I think that's sort of a burn, though it's not much. It's not like "movie star" is some awful back-up career. But certainly Gladys has picked up on the camera whoring. Simon tells Kimberly that he doesn't think he's seen her potential yet. He says that he could see her performance at any theme park. Hee. There's a theme park in Branson, and based on the commercials I saw while I was living in St. Louis, these are exactly the type of performances you'd see there, except countrified. Some people in the audience boo, but not that many. Simon tells her she needs to find her "X factor." In other words, desperation isn't sexy.
Kimberly heads over to Ryan, who asks if she has any response to Simon's criticism. Nope. Swell. Ryan calls on some guy in the audience who apparently had a sign that reads, "Kiss Me Kimberly, it's my birthday." Kimberly calls him up, and the camera shows this blond guy as he gives out an incredibly gay shriek. He rushes up and gets a quick kiss from her, so his mom will think he's straight for a little while longer. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Oh, look who's back! It's Kristin "Jaws" Holt! She's here to read her lines as awkwardly as humanly possible as she shows us around the mansion that they've shoved the kids into for this season. The house is eerily empty on the inside. They probably just rented some movie producer's seventeenth home -- the one he only stays at when his herpes is active, and he doesn't want the wife to know he's sleeping with hookers. There's a mini-bar. Kristin jokes about keeping Corey away from it. Like there's any actual booze in it. There's an acrophobia-inducing tiny terrace overlooking a fifty-foot drop. Now we know why they need to keep Corey away from the booze. The kids are getting a chef two times a week, because that's as often as they're allowed to eat now. There's a narrow pool, and a nice view of the smog hovering over Los Angeles. Kristin also tells us that she's going to be living in the house, too, so the show doesn't miss any of the drama. And if there isn't any, I'm sure the show will make some up. And I can only hope the camera catches Kristin in the bathroom, staring at the mirror, and saying, "Take a look at this, Nikki! You may have won the first round, but who's on the television now? And where are you, Nikki? How's that karaoke bar, Nikki? Huh, Nikki? I'm going to be a star!" When, of course, she's not acting like a raging bitch to Jessica Shaw. Not that she doesn't deserve it.
Commercials. When we return, it's time for Joshua Gracin. You know -- the Marine? Look! Marine stuff! I imagine, in retrospect, that Joshua's kicking himself for going on and on in his profile about missing his wife and daughter. I'm sure this was all recorded before Bush even gave the 48-hour deadline, and given that at least three of his fellow Marines from Camp Pendleton have been killed so far, I imagine that he won't be complaining about leaving his wife and daughter anymore. He tells us he's singing "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" from the movie Armageddon and dedicating it to his wife and daughter. Because he misses them? Or he is trying to warn them that the world is ending? Oh, the first one. For now.
Joshua heads to the stage wearing a black untucked shirt and jeans. I just realized that I'm mocking the wrong guy for repeating the same outfit over and over. I've seen five different 205 shirts on Ruben, at least. Joshua has two outfits -- the white shirt and the black shirt. When he starts singing -- well, I thought he was countrifying songs before. This time he's dipped the song in batter, fried it, poured on some gravy, and served up with a side of grits and collard greens. Oh, wow. Is anybody else hungry now? Anyway, there's a country-western rendition of this song, and apparently Joshua has taken that version and countrified it even further. He's got more twang than a guitar factory. And a freakish stage presence. He still has that posture where he's bent forward slightly. And he's doing those "wait just a moment" hand gestures. He looks like he's lecturing a small child while he sings.
Judges. Randy invokes the unholy Diane Warren (who wrote that piece of crap), and says Joshua did a good job. Paula says Joshua has a great "country/folk quality" to his singing. I don't think you're allowed to use "folk" to describe the singing of somebody who is an active member of the armed forces. She loves the heck out of him and his Y-chromosome. Gladys says she loves country music, and she thinks Joshua is pure country. Some actual country fans beg to diffah, but for me to make a judgment would require that I listen to lots of country music, and that's not going to happen. ["Oh, ha ha ha ha!" -- Shack, in retrospect] She tells Joshua that he "didn't miss a thing." Simon blathers on about how you'd be surprised the unholy Diane Warren could write songs like this, although he doesn't explain what he means. What, does she look like she should be writing songs that don't suck? What, exactly, does that look like? Randy and Paula both chuckle knowingly, so whatever. Simon goes on to tell Joshua that he's confused by the fact that he sounds completely different from the way he sounded last week. So which one is the real Joshua? Joshua says it's the über-twangy version that's real. So he was just playing all boy band in order to get this far, and now that he's made it to the finals and has a good voting base, now he's going to take the risks. I was actually hoping that a contestant would do this, but instead show up with a punk look and start shrieking a song. I mean real punk, not Avril faux-rebellion. Anyway, Simon says that's fine, but points out that week is disco week. Excuse me while I go fetal as the audience cheers and Joshua heads over to Ryan. Disco is not a genre that works well when you're alone on the stage and the crowd is thirty yards away. Ryan blathers about "the process" of finding his voice. Joshua blathers about "being who [he is]." Well, now, anyway. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Commercials. When we return, Ryan reintroduces Gladys and points out that they have the same haircut. He suggests that they could be confused for each other. Sigh. Simon makes strange whale sounds for a moment, then makes fun of Ryan's suit. up is Carmen Rasmusen. Two weeks ago, she was just a high school student. But now she's a celebrity! She's shocked! Shocked! But she still has to study three hours a day for school. Oh, boo fucking hoo!
Carmen heads out to the stage to sing "Hopelessly Devoted To You" from Grease. She's wearing a tan shirt, a white skirt, and way too much makeup again. She's also got some strange little bag attached to the right side of her belt. It's not a fanny pack. It's like some little eldritch pouch to store pixie dust or something. Wait! She's going to cast a spell to open the Seal! Somebody stop her! Oh, no she's not. She's going to sing. That's even worse! Somebody stop her! She sucks again, still, some more. Her voice cracks in the very first verse. She bleats out held notes. She misses some notes entirely. She still has no stage presence. A pan across the audience shows everybody sitting there, silently, completely unmoved by the performance. Even her friends with her posters are just sitting there. There's that strange techy whine in her voice again a couple of times. When she bleats her way to a flat finish, some folks in the crowd do finally get energetic. Amusingly, though, there are whole clumps of people not even clapping.
Judges. Randy says she had some pitch problems; he didn't think she really "shined" tonight. Except for her too-red lips, of course. Paula says it took a while for Carmen to "come alive" in the song. Yeah, some of us are still waiting for that part. Then Paula tells her she's wearing too much makeup. Bwa! How awful do you have to look for Paula to tell you to tone it down? Gladys says that she thinks Carmen is "on the brink." Jump, Carmen, jump! Oh, I guess Gladys meant that Carmen is on the brink of actually being good. Which means that Gladys is saying that right now, she isn't very good. Simon thinks Carmen did well (no, really) and then kisses up to his right-wing network masters by telling Carmen that she should replace Natalie Maines in the Dixie Chicks. I can't stand the Dixie Chicks, and I think that comment was ridiculous. Maybe he meant it in a "Carmen as lead singer will certainly destroy the group" way? No, I doubt it. Shut up, Simon. Carmen heads over to Ryan, who gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes without bothering with a stupid question.
And now is the time on American Idol when we pimp. Pimp, monkey boy Ryan, pimp! It's all about Kelly (deleted) and her big, stupid movie. We get shots of pretty, sexy, scantily clad young people writhing around on the beach for the film. It looks so cheesy and bad. It's like they made a musical based on MTV's spring break shows. There's Justin, too. They all wander around the beach, singing about putting their collective macks on. They gave Justin's sidekick geeky glasses and a stupid hat to try to make him look like he's not a model produced by the pretty machine. Then they show Justin and Kelly making out blandly in front of what looks like the water fountain where George Clooney and Matt Damon made out at the end of Ocean's Eleven. What, you didn't see that? I'm sure it was there. You just have to watch carefully. And thanks for giving away the ending months before the movie has even opened. Oh, wait -- it's a romantic comedy. Of course they end up together at the end. Silly me.
Ryan introduces Kelly (deleted) out to the stage. She's greeted by a wild cheer from the crowd. It sounds like they're shrieking a single vowel quite loudly, but we aren't allowed to reveal which one it is. There was an injunction and lawyers are involved. It's quite a mess. And, frankly, so is Kelly (deleted). She's wearing an unflattering black shirt with yellow and white stripes and black jeans. Her hair is some sort of feathered Nikka Costa thing. Well, it's better than it looked the last time we saw her. But she's got on more blush than Carmen did. Kelly (deleted) marvels at Gladys's presence. Ryan gets her on track pimping her goods. The movie comes out in April. Her album will be released on April 15. Why, that's nearly nine months since she won! That's plenty of time for quality. Ryan's also desperate to know whether Justin is a good kisser. See, Simon isn't much for kissing, so Ryan's feeling a little unloved. Kelly (deleted) assures us that Justin is a good kisser and loves the ladies, unlike Ryan. Ryan tells us that Kelly (deleted) will be back to sing a song at the end of the show. The crowd shrieks a vowel.
up is Charles Grigsby. Charles is from a small town, and doesn't even own a car. But now he's a celebrity! He's shocked! Shocked that he gets to fly first class! And ride limos! He tells us he picked "You Can't Win" from The Wiz. He says he hopes Michael Jackson likes it. Unfortunately, Charles has let some vestiges of a mustache and chin hair grow, so now he looks too old for Michael. He's been tainted by that awful onset of testosterone.
Charles heads out to the stage in a swirly blue shirt that I actually like, jeans, and floppy blue hat. Well, Charles is just not meant for upbeat songs, I don't think. His voice is too breathy, and he just doesn't have the kind of energy to make this song work. He struts about the stage goofily, pointing to people. His voice is a bit off. The warbling is more pronounceable on this upbeat song, showing that he doesn't really have much control over it. Overall, it's meh.
Judges. Randy says he likes Charles and his voice, but doesn't like this song on him. Charles chatters nervously and asks the audience if they had fun. They cheer, because what else can they do? Shout, "No"? I'd love it if they did, though. Paula tells Charles that he's adorable and that he had the crowd on its feet. Of course, it was on the orders of the producer, no doubt, so whatever. Charles shouts out for another crowd response. Gladys says that Charles is a "crowd pleaser." Apparently not enough, though. Oops, hope I didn't spoil you. Simon's says, "Fifty thousand movies, and you choose The Wiz." Uh, what? Dude. As opposed to what? Spice World? Shut up, Simon. He agrees with Randy that it wasn't a good song for Charles. Charles heads over to Ryan, blowing kisses (in the wind) as he goes. Ryan asks him if it's different performing for a crowd. It is. Thanks. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Commercials. Shut up again, Simon. Actually, I tried vanilla [product-placed cola] for the first time last week and liked it. Don't tell anybody. Especially not the Dr Pepper people.
Why doesn't Tamyra just kick that guy's ass? You know she totally could.
When we return, Ryan blathers on about Simon's mum being hot (shut up, Ryan) before introducing Rickey Smith. Rickey went from Kansas to Hollywood. He's shocked! Shocked that he gets star treatment and that people want his autographs. He says he's still Rickey, though. I'm sure that, just as there must be a universe where Corey and Carmen can sing, there's a universe where these profiles are remotely interesting. I bet it's the same universe Mr. Mxyzptlk comes from.
Ryan introduces Rickey to the stage to sing "It Might Be You" from Tootsie. Disappointingly, Rickey is not dressed in drag. He's wearing a boring yellow untucked shirt and black pants. His falsetto sounds a lot better tonight. Or perhaps it's just the memory of Corey rising up from the dark places in my soul where I like punishing myself. Rickey's still a little warbly. He's kind of like Charles to me, but at a higher pitch. And not quite as breathy. But overall, a pretty good performance. The audience starts cheering midway through the song for no apparent reason.
Judges. Randy loved him. He tells Rickey he keeps getting better and better each week. Paula loves Rickey and his yellow shirt. Gladys interrupts to agree. Paula tells him he has a knack for picking the best songs for his voice. Gladys agrees again and tells Rickey that his sound is "fresh" and that she thinks he's going to be a success. Simon repeats his comments that Rickey is a nice guy, but he didn't really hear anything original from him. But he thinks Rickey is good enough to last another week. Well, high praise, indeed. If only Rickey bleated like livestock. Simon would be offering him a contract already. Rickey heads over to Ryan, who corrects Paula that Rickey's shirt is actually "custard"-colored. He insists that he knows his custard. I'm sure Ryan knows his way around an éclair or two. Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Ooh, American Idol has a new sponsor to pimp. Okay, I can't adequately make fun of this store unless I use its actual name. It's Old Navy. They sent all the kids to the store for a shopping "spree." I wouldn't exactly call that much of a spree. Couldn't you get a piece of every article of clothing they sell in less than ten minutes? Also whoring himself out in the hopes of getting a little more press is "fashion" "guru" Steven Cojocaru, who looks like the gay brother Steven Tyler never talks about. And why the hell would you need a fashion consultant for Old frickin' Navy? It's like the style equivalent of Chinese take-out: you just pick out something from column A (a top) and something from column B (a bottom) and there you go. I actually order clothes sight unseen from Old Navy's web site. Anyway, it's a giant, organized Old Navy pimpfest. There are about a half-dozen shots of the signs for boot-cut and low-rise jeans, which happen to be what they're all about in the ads these days. Steven gives them all stupid, pointless fashion advice. All the women are divas. All the men are cool and hip-hop or whatever. Shut up, Steven. I'm not going to take fashion advice from somebody whose jacket looks like it used to be Red Forman's ottoman. Well, if nothing else, we got Ruben out of those damned 205 shirts for a little while.
Commercials. An ad for Old Navy! And 8 Mile. You know, I wish Eminem really had gone to the Oscars just so I could see what happened when he accepted the award from Barbra Streisand.
When we return, it's time for the animated corpse of Julia DeMato. The animated corpse of Julia DeMato is shocked -- shocked! -- that people want her autograph! She's in Hollywood! And a celebrity! Even though she's an animated corpse! The animated corpse of Julia DeMato is going to sing "What A Feeling" from Flashdance, as some sort of ironic celebration of all that she's lost when she died inside after Vanessa was ejected last week in her stead. She blathers some nonsense about hoping to find confidence in the lyrics in the song. Confidence is an emotion. Animated corpses don't have emotions. Nice attempt at misdirection, though.
The animated corpse of Julia DeMato heads out onto the stage in a green off-one-shoulder shirt with "Virginia" printed on the front for some reason, black pants, and wide black belt that rests on the hip. It's a minor attempt at trying to look like the '80s without really going overboard. Rigor mortis seems to have gotten the animated corpse of Julia's breasts under control, anyway. The animated corpse of Julia lurches her way lifelessly around the stage as she mutters her way blandly through the song. What's the point of even performing this song if you're not going to prance around the stage like a drum major on crank? And I swear they only have her sing for about thirty seconds before bringing the song to a soulless, merciful end.
Judges. Randy thinks the animated corpse of Julia DeMato was just "a'ight." She was pitchy and not very exciting. Paula agrees that it wasn't Julia's best performance. But she looked great! No visible rotting at all! Gladys says that she didn't think the animated corpse of Julia wasn't really having fun with the song, and something kept her from really "believing in" the song. Something like her soul being trapped in a small urn to Tsathoggua's dark throne? Simon says the animated corpse of Julia DeMato sounded good at the beginning, but fell apart at the end. He compares her performance to something he'd see on "disco on ice." For some reason this reminds me that O-Town was stuck singing for some wretched figure-skating show on ABC, and I have a good laugh. Those boys have been sold for parts now, right? The animated corpse of Julia DeMato heads over to Ryan, who asks her if she's having fun. There's an awkward pause as Julia's pained expression indicates that she's about as far away from fun as she could be without having to sit in on Matt and Cortez's "date" on Married by America. Finally, the animated corpse of Julia DeMato says that she is and adds, "It's an experience." Ryan gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Commercials. When we return, it's time for Kimberley Locke. She went from studying law to becoming a celebrity. She's shocked! Shocked at all the start treatment. Actually, she lurrrrves the star treatment. In the most honest moment in all these profiles, she says, "It's all about me, me, me, me, me." She loves getting pampered. She tells us that she's singing "Home" from The Wiz, because the judges would throw a shit-fit if she sang "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" for the twentieth time.
Kimberley heads out to the stage in a turquoise dress and long straightened hair. I like the dress, but the hair is strangely flat and lifeless, like it was harvested from a stuffed sloth from the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. This is a good song choice for Kimberley, though apparently she's performed this one nearly as much as its white bread, Kansan equivalent. She has a little more charisma, and since it's a belting song, she doesn't have to worry about being energetic, which did her in last week. And her voice is smoky and solid. She still doesn't do much for me, though. I forget what she sounded like minutes after her performance ends.
Judges. Randy loves the way she looked and sounded, and thinks she did much better than last week. Paula says that they should "charge tickets for admission." Really, Paula? Thanks from checking in with those words of idiocy. Paula loved the performance. Gladys loved Kimberley and thinks she's classy. Obviously she didn't see last week's results show. Simon agrees that Kimberley did much better and likes her hair, but again thinks that the cocktail gown looks "too old." Paula snarks, "Fashion maven right over here." Simon snarks back, "Paula, I wouldn't start." Heh. Paula, by the way, is wearing a white shirt with abstract fuchsia patterns that looks like a window treatment at a cheap Miami hotel. Simon concludes that Kimberley "redeemed" herself this week. Kimberley heads over to Ryan, who asks her if she's relieved to be finished. She is. Thanks. Ryan jokes that Kimberley is studying to become a lawyer and can sue you if you don't vote for her. Shut up, Ryan. He gives the blah blah blah text-message-cakes.
Before the commercial break, there's a stupid scripted [product-placed cola] moment about the fact that Charles is quite the pool shark. Poor Debra Byrd is forced to play along with this stupid skit. She's too good for this shit.
Commercials. When we return, Ryan reminds us that Christina is stuck as some poor little reporter for the TV Guide channel and poor Tamyra is stuck in a vapid, unrealistic plotline in Boston Public. Then he makes a joke at E-Jay Day's expense, because he didn't have the good sense to blow his way to the top like Ryan did. He insists afterward that they all love E-Jay. Not enough to ever show him again, but they love him. Anyway, this is all blather to prepare us for Kelly Clarkson (deleted) to come out and sing a song titled "Anytime" from the AI movie, From Justin to Kelly.
So Kelly (deleted) comes out in a nice off-the-shoulder black dress, which is ruined by her knee-high black boots that are inexplicably covered in gold ribbons. She's also sporting dirt-colored eye shadow from Maybelline's Heroinistica line. I believe the shade she's using is called "Methadone Dreams." It won't smudge even if your pimp slaps you around for spending his cut on crack! The song, of course, is wretched and soulless, full of awful lines like, "I can be the one to show you everything you missed before. Just hold on now, because I can be the one to give you more." Kelly (deleted) doesn't sound at her best here, mostly because the song is so stupid. There's a hysterical shot in the middle of the song of Simon rubbing his own man-boobs as he watches the performance. Overall: meh. The audience shrieks a particular vowel when Kelly (deleted) is done. Simon tells us all that Kelly (deleted) will be back in five weeks to sing a song from her new album. And if it's anything like this one, I won't be rushing out to buy it.
After a clip show reminding us how much Corey Clark needs to shut the hell up, Ryan reminds us all to vote, vote, vote, and to tune in tomorrow for an hour of padding, after which they'll eject somebody.
Wednesday. Shout-outs and props to Michaela for sending me a tape. Big huge anti-props to our lovely postal service for taking five days to deliver something that was guaranteed in three. Bastards. So, because I didn't get the tape of this results show until the same day the results show airs, I'm going to finish this recap in "real time." Just like 24. And you never know -- there's a chance I could go nuclear as well.
Melodramatic Announcer melodramatically announces as we pan across the kids, "One by one, their dreams come crashing down to earth," as he warns us that somebody will be getting ejected from the competition. Can we take a collection to buy that guy a sense of perspective? Kimberly's got a Southern-fried perm. I think those flashbacks of performing in Branson have caused some sort of backslide.
Credits. Ryan bounds down to the stage in a green-and-white striped shirt and green pants. The kids are all hanging out on the sofas. Ryan blathers about foie gras, and tells us that we're going to be trampling on somebody or something by not voting for them. If only that were literal…Corey.
Ryan introduces the judges. Randy gets his "revenge" on Ryan for showing some old pics last night (like Ryan actually had anything to do with it) by showing us all some pics of Ryan as a kid. His flame? It always burned like a lighthouse beacon. Posing him with athletic equipment as a kid didn't make him look any more butch.
After the mocking dies down, Ryan heads over to ask the kids stupid questions. Ruben is wearing a blue-and-white 205 shirt. That's the business-casual shirt for Fridays at the office. Ryan proceeds to kiss Ruben's massive ass for a while about his performance last night. Does Ruben ever get upset about anything? No. Is Carmen, the youngest contestant, ready for the pressure of the competition? Yes. After all, nobody's really pointing out to her how awful her singing is, are they? Is Joshua Gracin an American hero and worthy of the type of love and devotion we tend to reserve for actual saints? Why, yes he is. Ryan mentions that week is the disco theme, which we all know right now turned out to be untrue, and I'm sure we're all regretting that, aren't we? Ryan makes Joshua sing a twangy line from "I Will Survive." Awful. Everybody cheers anyway.
Clip show! Those are easy to recap in real time. Movie theme! Gladys Knight! Awful singing! Comments taken out of context and played out of order! Songs about mice!
Oh, my god! They're singing "Footloose"! I was hoping you were all playing a trick on me. Joshua gets the first solo, and Carmen and Kimberly Caldwell pretend to vie for his attention. You know, the pretty blonde ones. The kids run out in the audience. Kimberly (Look at me! I'm Kimberly!) finds J.D. Adams (Look at me! Everybody thinks I'm doing Kimberly!) in the audience and dances with him. Carmen gets a solo as well. Why is beyond me. She's still wretched. The singers the producers like (Clay, Joshua, and Carmen) are sent back out in the audience, while the ones they can't be bothered with like Rickey, Trenyce, and Charles (hmmmm) are left up onstage, each with a microsecond of camera time. I wish I were watching this number with Chris Rock.
Commercials. Ryan lies that he's going to announce who's going home "soon." Then he throws us to another clip show at the mansion with dead-eyed, horse-toothed Kristin. We see the kids arrive at the house. They "ooh!" and "ahh!" They look around. They run around. Clay is afraid of the pool or something. They're forcing all the kids to sleep in rooms together in order to add drama. They meet their chef. They end with a dumb Waltons rip-off, only to end it by having somebody wishing goodnight to Keith, the sexy virgin, and then replaying an audio clip of him singing. Shut up, clip show.
To burn up some more time, Ryan asks some kids in the audience to ask the judges questions that they gave them to ask before the show. Some tool asks Paula that if "Opposites Attract," then why doesn't she get along with Simon. Because it was a stupid fucking song, you moron. She sang it with a cat! Sit down. Paula says she doesn't know why they don't get along, considering that they both like the same makeup and like clothes. Because you know, most of us don't like clothes. Simon responds by demanding that Paula admit that she wants him. Randy says opposites don't attract that far. Some guy who looks like Ross the Intern as a butch lesbian with spiky hair prompts an embarrassing sexual comment from Ryan about how stiff he is. I'm sure this show makes the FOX censors cry. They should actually keep the ratings box up in the corner and just change it every time Ryan slips and says something sexual. The guy asks Randy which of the contestants he can see making it in ten years. Like the music industry thinks that far forward any more. Randy wimps out and says they all can. Some girl asks Simon about "chickening out" last week by not accepting Josh's push-up challenge. Simon agrees this time, heads up on the stage, and proceeds to wipe the floor with America's last great hope. Ha!
Simon's mum is back with a question. And then she screws up the question that she's been ordered to ask. Ha! She was supposed to ask Ryan what happened to some of last season's runners-up. Anyway, they get their stage business together, and this all serves as a segue to…a rerun? Suddenly we're all watching the "Where Are They Now?" special that ran weeks ago. Well, that's fine then. I don't have to recap all this crap. Just click the link and read away. If they're going to stick reruns in the show in the future, they might want to stick in chunks of shows that nobody is watching, like John Doe or something.
Commercials. Oh, let's have another group performance, because the war -- and the first group performance -- hadn't filled me with enough horror. It's "I Had The Time Of My Life" from Dirty Dancing, and it sounds wretched from the very first moment to the very end. Some of the kids are paired up together to look all romantic. I'm sure Joshua's wife isn't at all horrified that they're constantly having him drool all over jailbait Carmen. Once again, Rickey, Charles, and Trenyce are stuck in the back. Hmmm. Julia and Corey come up and dance with Randy and Paula. It's certainly better than hearing the singing. It's awful, and everybody loves them.
Before going to the commercials, Joshua throws some of the kids in the pool in a [product-placed cola] commercial. Look at nubile, wet Carmen! Isn't she so…wholesome? The kids vow revenge.
Commercials. Ooh, other cities' fertility clinic commercials!
Uh, anyway, when we return, it's time to get down to some business. Ryan goes through the judges' comments. Joshua is America's favorite white bread. He's safe. Trenyce had great stage presence and is safe. Rickey was lovely and everybody loved him. He's safe. The animated corpse of Julia DeMato was empty and soulless. She's in the bottom three. She seems actually thrilled to be there. Maybe it's just because she gets to stand on the Seal. And what about Clay? Is Clay safe? Oh, come on. Of course he is. Kimberley Locke was nice, and America agreed. She's safe. Ruben? Read that Clay part again, but with Ruben's name. Yeah, he's safe. Kimberly Caldwell was embarrassingly bad, but the audience loved her anyway. Ryan then throws a monkey wrench (hee! "Monkey") in the typical system of announcements by leaving three kids -- Carmen, Corey, and Charles -- hanging and sending us to commercials, and leaving the animated corpse of Julia alone on the stage.
When we return, Charles was meh, Carmen was atrocious, and Corey shrieked. Carmen, who obviously is protected by some sort of dark enchantment, is safe. But it can't cover Corey at the same time, so he's in the bottom three with Charles in Julia. Yes! Ryan knows about Paula's inexplicable attachment to Corey, and ask her what she thinks about the choices. She's okay with Julia, but she's shocked to see Corey and Charles there. Of course, nobody has the balls to ever ask her who she'd put in their place, and she'd never have the balls to actually say who was worse. Simon snarks that if Paula doesn't think Corey belongs in the bottom three, then she didn't have the volume on her television turned up, because he was "diabolical." His words, not mine. We get a shot of Corey, who does indeed look quite diabolical. And like Paula isn't sleeping with Prince Valium (tm Beetlejuice) by the time this show airs on the West Coast.
Time to send one of the kids back. It looks like the animated corpse of Julia DeMato will live to lurch another day. Tsathoggua isn't done with her yet. She heads back to the sofas. Corey could be eliminated! Yay! Can't you feel the brand new day? Can't you?
Commercials.
Corey isn't eliminated. Damn you, Tsathoggua! Daaaamn you! Oh, like that curse has any meaning to an elder god. Wee li'l impish Charles has been eliminated. Corey's family members stand up and start shouting Corey's name. I guess the asshole doesn't fall far from the tree. Some folks in the audience start booing the utter classlessness. Corey wisely turns the chant around to get the audience cheering for Charles. Kimberly Caldwell looks devastated.
Charles gets his final clip show. It's all been so incredible! He didn't believe this could happen! And I guess it hasn't! But look for Charles in your grocer's produce aisle. If you happen to live in Oberlin, that is.
Is it just me, or is everybody even more emotional this year than they were last year? Everybody's crying like he's been sentenced to death. Well, I suppose getting pulled off television is a fate worse than death for fame whores.
Charles gets his final sing-off, and Kimberly (Look at me! Look! Loooooook!) is the first one out to the Seal to join Charles. And then the tape cuts off before I get to see that alleged shot of Clay trying to pull Kimberly out of somebody else's spotlight for just a moment, damn it.