We open with stock Hawaii film clips #55-61 (available through the Hawaiian Chamber of Commerce & Visitors Bureau or in videotape form at any travel agency in the whole wide world) greeting us from our prettiest, yet loneliest state. She's so pretty that none of the other states think they're good enough for her, so she never gets asked out and sits alone in the middle of the ocean.
I've totally lost it already. Anyway, as Ryan Seacrest so obviously narrates, we're in Hawaii for this last round of auditions. They waste absolutely no time trotting out the judges and throwing us headlong into a rejection montage. Ryan again misuses "ironic" when he declares that "so many people traveled to paradise to put themselves through hell." I mean, it would be ironic if we weren't already expecting this. I suppose it counts as irony for the clueless morons who didn't realize they couldn't sing. Ryan makes me cringe when he asks whether the contestants will "hang ten" or be "musical wipeouts." Or maybe they'll be devoured by sharks? Or sacrificed to the volcano gods? Or beaten to death by pineapples? Or smothered to death in poi? Come on -- if you're going to resort to clichéd metaphors, don't just stop at a couple.
Credits. We return to Aloha Stadium (I wasn't aware that in addition to "Hello" and "Goodbye," "Aloha" also means "Whichever high-tech company gave our board of directors $5,000,000 to have its name here"), where the fame whores are lined up and ready to tell us all that we're in Hawaii and throw us that hand gesture that means "hang ten" or "hang loose" or "I'm miming a phone handset" or whatever the hell that means today. The kids line up and show us all how phony and "affected" they are. Ryan tells us that he has no shame. Well, duh. Oh, wait, there's more. He meant that they had no shame in picking Oahu for auditions, because they went to other places in seasons where it rained or was cold for the two days they were there. So, you know, they've earned this ticket to paradise. We get a shot of Ryan surfing. I'm amazed to see that he's got a hobby that will result in the immersion of his hair in salty water. Oh, you know what they like to do in Hawaii? The hula. Yup. Ryan tells us, "The people of these islands have an ingrained love of music and dancing." When they're not sacrificing virgins in volcanoes, I assume. I mean, could they be just a little more reductive and insulting? This, of course, leads to an "ironic" shift (is it really ironic if the set-up is complete hyperbole?) to another brief montage of bad auditions. And there's a pointless shot of a wakeboarder tripping and falling while running across the beach that is nevertheless amusing.
We cut to Simon Cowell arriving on his plane at the airport. There's a group of young urchins standing there doing the hula for him. Anytime I see small children doing anything in unison, I get a little creeped out. Kids are usually so disorganized. It's like they're planning something. They all creepily chant, "Aloha, Simon!" Simon -- showing he does have a soul, even if it's a little black and shriveled (not that there's anything wrong with that) -- thanks the kids and picks one of them up to give her a kiss-kiss. And now Miss Alli really likes Simon. After he puts the little girl down, he turns and says "absolutely terrible" to the camera, but you know he doesn't mean it. Awww. I like Simon again for a few minutes. The little girls all pile about ten leis around Simon's neck. He asks them whom they voted for, and they all say, "Ruben." Awww. I know some kids who are going to get some nasty, nasty mail.
Oh, there are ukuleles, too. That's just terrific. We meet Sonny Kapu, who is playing a ukulele with his family and later entertaining the crowd in the waiting area with his rap/beatboxing. He's sort of Uncle Kracker-ish in appearance, which is my default description for any bulky guy with odd facial hair. Wait, that makes me Uncle Kracker-ish, too. How sad. Sonny is singing "Nice and Slow" by Usher, and though he had that whole rap thing going, he has a nice R&B sound, too. He does a bit too much posing, like this audition is also a cover shoot for Vibe. Randy worries that Sonny's voice isn't strong enough, but says he liked the performance overall. Paula did, too, which comes as no surprise, since Sonny changed "pretty girl" in the song to "pretty Paula." Simon makes some incomprehensible comment to the effect that Sonny "needs" a competition like this, or else he'd be singing on the street. Eh? I guess he means that Sonny would never get the interest of a producer. Anyway, Randy and Paula vote yes, so Sonny makes it. He heads outside to celebrate with his family, which appears to have about thirty people in it.
At this point, I'm running way behind on all these damned recaps, and I need to finish this, like now, because another new episode is in twenty-four hours, so we're just going to try to real-time this thing, except when I have to stop to check somebody's name. Or work up a good rant.
We've already seen this pudgy girl with some sort of name like "Keffeeegenee" (like I'm gonna bother stopping for the rejects) making a mockery of "A Moment Like This." No, more of a mockery. We see it again.
Out by the elevator bay, Ryan is for some unknown reason trying to track down Sonny's family coming down in an elevator from the auditions. Wasn't Ryan just up there? What the hell? The funny part is that he goes up to elevators when they open and when people who aren't from Sonny's family come out, they're horrified to have Ryan's monkey face leering at them. One girl even recoils in horror from him, like he's going to bite her or something. It's hysterical. Finally, Sonny's family comes out, and they all celebrate again in the hallway. Didn't we just see all this? What was the point?
up is Ryan Farrar, who answers the question, "What would it sound like if Scott Stapp covered a Paula Abdul song?" Badness. That's what it would sound like. Like there could be any other answer. That's like mixing dog poo and pig intestines together and hoping you create gold. Simon says that Ryan's singing makes him like Paula's version.
Pointless montage. up is Jon Peter Lewis. Who is cute in a dorky way (I personally think he's cuter in a dorky way than Clay), but seems to be sleeping all the time and appears to have as much energy as a sloth on antihistamines. And he's wearing his bland Sunday suit. His song choice is "Crazy Love," and his singing is pretty good, but without much energy. Simon observes that Jon has a great voice, but that he looks like a pen salesman (do pens need salesmen these days? Don't you just grab them at Office Max while you're buying printer cartridges?), and has the personality of a mouse. Everybody loves his voice, though. They compare him to Aaron Neville, which is pretty accurate. Anyway, they decide that they like him enough to overlook his awful fashion choices, and invite him to Hollywood.
So the invitation is enough to wake Jon up (and maybe he can hear "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" playing in the background), and he leaves the audition area and starts mugging for the cameras out in the hallway. He booty-dances and makes ludicrous facial expressions. And booty-dances some more. He's a dork, but in a funny way.
Commercials. Fast-forward. Paula Fugot greets us on the beach with her ukulele when we return. Paula's very large, thinks "Big girls rock," and is somehow managing to work both the flower in the hair, and the trucker hat. That's some stylin' there, yo. In her audition, she gives Simon a "Big Girls Rock" t-shirt and begs him to show it to the world, which is about as likely as Simon putting on a leotard and Jazzercising for us all. Her rendition of "Son of a Preacher Man" is uninspired and flat. They all reject her.
There's a boy dressed up like Winnie the Pooh, the poor thing. He must be pledging a fraternity or something. I choose to believe that rather than consider the possibility that one of those creepy plushies (or whatever they're called) decided to show up in fetish attire. (I just wanted to mention that because I like some variety in my crazy hate mail.) Mary sings as though she's still becoming familiar with the concept of verbal communication. Isaac is a creepy boy who can't imagine why we wouldn't want his Wade-Robson-tested- and-approved popping and locking. He pushes his head to the side with his hand, to prove his mad dancing skillz. But he can't sing and he can't even remember the words to "Lately." Simon thinks Isaac is a fake audition. He's clearly not, though, which makes it sadder. And funnier. He does the creepy spindly dance for them again. Remember that episode of The Simpsons when Mr. Burns got all those pro players on the company softball team? Isaac dances the way Mr. Burns gave out the coaching signals in that episode. Simon gives him "the challenge." No, it really hasn't changed much. Isaac needs to find five people on the beach who will vouch for his singing.
So Isaac and Ryan head down to the beach, and surprisingly, they're able to find people who think Isaac's good. I think that's a good sign that you've been out in the sun too long. So Isaac actually gets five people to come back up to the auditions, and they all file in. Simon asks them if they'd buy Isaac's record. They insist that they would. One guy trying to defend Isaac's singing mentions that he's tone-deaf, which is just hysterical. Even though Isaac won Simon's little challenge, he still doesn't get to go to Hollywood. Awww. Simon says that, instead, Isaac will go hang out with them on the beach and sing. Man, that's harsh. They totally deserve it, though.
Commercials! When we return, we discover that a lot of folks at the auditions aren't even from Hawaii. Because that's different from all the other auditions. I suppose it's horrifying because obviously these folks spent all this money just to be rejected. But then they get to have a beautiful vacation, too. I could think of dumber things to do. But Crystal Okana is from Hawaii, as her embarrassingly awful airbrushed shirt tells us. And she's really, really, really energetic. Simon asks her what she's going to sing. She responds, "'Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,' by Beyoncé." Be-fucking-yoncé, y'all! You remember your history lessons, of course, about how she helped all those slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad by using her booty-shake to distract the guards. They really weren't ready for that jelly. Randy chuckles slightly (probably horrified) at her declaration. Crystal is loud and utterly lacking in any soul or depth. She has a good voice, but she's just doing vocal gymnastics, which isn't much of a surprise, given that she doesn't even have a clue of the song's origins. Oh my god. Her last line: "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming forth to carry me -- to Hollywood." I just don't have words. I'm just recoiling from my television. And, you know, it just reminds me of how easily these kids are willing to sign a contract that voluntarily gives this show a certain level of control over them in the first place. I'm just full of horror. Crystal claps for herself when she's done. Randy votes no. He says that she had "pitch problems," but I really think he's just as disgusted with her as I am. Simon doesn't see any problems, though, because she's pretty and he doesn't give a shit about American history anyway. That makes it Paula's decision, and she votes no. Crystal is shocked. She declares that she's the American Idol. Well perhaps the American Idol would care to learn a thing or two about American history? She begs them some more. They still reject her. Simon doesn't quite understand what's going on with Paula and Randy, but he doesn't make a big deal out of it. Outside, Crystal's gigantic family applauds her even though she didn't make it.
up is Camile Velasco, a pancake waitress. That's kind of reaching as far as gimmicks go. She's wearing the appropriate belly-button exposure-wear. And she's pretty. I don't even know what the hell she's singing, but she has to breathe after every third word and doesn't really have much range. She has a sort of whiskey voice. Vocally, she's a lot like Kimberly Caldwell, except she doesn't look like her. And hopefully isn't as freakishly desperate and needy. The judges like her much more than I do and invite her to Hollywood.
Commercials! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd be interested in visiting a world where events in movies like You Got Served could actually happen in real life.
I'm pretty sure that sudden Monday special was our punishment for complaining that they were just showing bad auditions.
When we return, some guy is practicing "The Christmas Song" (the hell?) in a bathroom before butchering it in the auditions. Somebody's nuts are roasting on an open fire, but I don't think they're the ones he's singing about. Another montage of Simon saying mean things. Somebody's singing could be "shark repellant." I'm not so sure. I think things that sound like they're dying might actually attract sharks. we have Clifford Iokia, who is a really hot firefighter who sings through his nose. He sounds like a twelve-year-old boy. It's kind of creepy. Simon thinks he's awful and should stick with fighting fires. But Randy and Paula both kind of like him, sort of, a little bit, in some ways, in the right light, when the moon is in a certain phase and he's facing east, so they go ahead and invite him to Hollywood. Outside, Clifford hangs out at the beach with his shirt off, so we know why he's really going to Hollywood.
is Matthew Motter, who is auditioning because he wants to get a girlfriend and wants to give some speech about proving something to the people who didn't believe in him. And what he's here to prove is that they're right, because he totally can't sing. I think he's a faker. Simon stops him and says he hopes any potential girlfriends watching have the volume turned down. He's rejected. Probably quite often.
Commercials! Already? Wait, why am I complaining? Faaaast-forward!
Hula montage! This is followed by a montage of people doing silly stunts the producers talked them into. is Jonah Moananu, who is Hawaii's freestyle rap champion. Is that an official competition? With certified judges and stuff? Is it on ESPN2? Are there degrees of difficulty? Randy asks him for some beatboxing in the auditions. Jonah obliges. He's okay, I guess. It's hard for me to judge a style of music that involves artistically blowing raspberries. But can he sing normally? He takes a stab at "Thank You" (by George Washington Carver), and has a nice enough voice, but sounds as though he's about to collapse by the end of one verse. I should point out that this guy is about the size of Ruben -- possibly even a little larger. His endurance makes Ruben seem like a decathlete. Simon points out that Jonah's already out of breath. Randy doesn't think Jonah's singing is good enough (though he likes the beatboxing), but Paula and Simon barely like him enough to send him to Hollywood. There's a lot of "Yeah, sure, whatever, stop on by in Hollywood" invitations this round. Outside the auditions, Jonah picks Ryan up and slings him over his shoulder, which no doubt made Ryan's afternoon, and celebrates with his family. Jonah raps to us in the confessional after making it. I think Hawaii must be lacking a really strong rap community if this guy's their champion.
Commercials! Again! Some more! Break to watch The Daily Show! Yes, I know I'm late, but nothing interrupts The Daily Show! Randy Jackson was the guest so it counts!
Our final audition tonight is Lisa Wilson, a "model" (feel free to add "aspiring" in your head like I did) we watch walk across the beach, as though the cameramen just kind of spontaneously stumbled across her, even though we saw her dancing with Jon earlier. Well, I did, anyway. They claim she was in town for a "modeling assignment." She's wearing one of those outfits that you'll occasionally see in a swimsuit shoot when they want to put the women in something classier than a bikini, for some reason. She's got an aqua blue, tight-fitting, torso-baring, single strap top that causes that unfortunate "uniboob" effect again, and a matching sarong-type skirt. In an actual swimsuit shoot, the skirt would come off to reveal the bottom half of a bikini, I think. And, well, I think Lisa might only be a model from the neck down. She's by no means hideous, but...no. And she definitely needs to pick a better conditioner. I've seen better hair on a kiwi fruit. She's there to sing "Independence Day," some country music song (by Harriet Beecher Stowe). I think her singing is awful. She's got too much vibrato. She has no charisma. She's dull. Bleah. Simon agrees with me. Randy and Paula like her, though, so she gets to go to Hollywood.
And she's the last audition. In the end, they picked seventeen from Hawaii. For some reason, somebody spent time and money to cause Lisa to magically fade away from the audition room as the judges applaud themselves that they're done listening to wave after wave of suck. Comparatively speaking, of course. I guess it must get boring editing the same clips into rotation over and over again, so they had a little fun.
But we still have a few minutes to pad -- even with seven hundred commercials -- so they edit back up all those bad auditions we saw over the past four rounds. And hell if I'm going to recap this again. Click the links, people! We get a montage of kids, parents, judges, Ryans, hot male strippers, Elvises, brothers, dancers, and a million other fame-whore subsets as a song that may or may not be sung by Tamyra Gray plays in the background.
In all, 117 kids were invited to Hollywood. And , they'll all try to avoid having meltdowns as the producers try whatever methods they can think up to make them all hate each other. Scooter Girl brings a stuffed dog with her who she says talks to her. Her public nervous breakdown is going to make for magnificent television. It grows increasingly unlikely that we'll ever love Michael Koewn as much as he does. Some girl says that Simon must be gay. I'm just going to assume that's this year's clip of the latest round of rejectees saying goodbye. And Jesus may not be willing to turn the other cheek this time.