Ryan Seacrest greets us outside, in front of the crowd of remaining contestants, who all face the camera the way flowers turn to follow the sun. The kids are gonna sing some more, and then some of them are going to go away. Yay! Ryan lies that the judges have "raised the bar" again this year. Clearly, he's been too busy preening and hounding celebrities into appearing on his new show to actually listen to this year's crop.
We return to A Historic Theater in Los Angeles. That's what Ryan calls it. It may have a name, but I guess they weren't willing to pay to get it on the air. We have 117 singers remaining in the contest and they're all here for the round of cuts. Oh, they're such clever auteurs at American Idol. They start the episode with Ryan narrating that the remaining contestants have all sung, and are waiting to find out whether they're in the final thirty-two. See, they're telling the story backwards, like in Memento. Maybe at the end of tomorrow's episode, we'll discover that a memory-addled Simon had unwittingly cut the one contestant who could explain to him what's going on, or something. They show little flashfutures (great, like I need more Tru Calling references) of the remaining contestants sucking and being told that they suck by Simon, while music ripped off from the Survivor tribal councils plays in the background. Some woman who must be a stage mom tells the camera that Simon was brutal, and that some of these kids will need therapy when they leave here. Actually, that sounds to me like Simon is doing them a favor, since many of them most assuredly needed therapy before they ever arrived. Jonah reminds us he's from Hawaii. Non-model Lisa reminds us that she exists. Matthew Rogers reminds us he was in the Rose Bowl. Take a snapshot of Matthew, write "Rose Bowl" on the back, and hang it to the mirror so you don't forget. Simon reminds us that the judges have to cut people.
Now that we've "set the scene" -- because heaven knows this show is so complicated that we'd be going, "Wait, why are they eliminating more singers? We're not going to vote on 117 people?" -- we head back in time to the screaming fame whores as they first arrive in Los Angeles. They're loud and rude at the airport. Well, maybe they're just exuberant, but I'm an old crank and don't like to see people who are more excited than I am about anything. We see many faces -- some vaguely familiar, most completely unknown. Nicole "Scooter Girl" Tieri has a stuffed dog with her. She tells us that the stuffed dog said that she's going to be the American Idol. She wisely leaves out that the stuffed dog also told her that Paula Abdul is going to try to steal her eyes while she's sleeping and must be "taken care of." Ryan narrates to us that very few contestants made it through to Hollywood with the support of all three judges, so they'll either have to improve their singing, or be a lot sluttier. Michael Keown says something. Shut up, Michael. Nicole flirts with Alan Ritchson and marvels at his tight abs. More people make vague comments about singing. And...scene.
“ They remind us that Randy was the only one who could stand Kiira, but that he wouldn't shut up about her and drove Simon and Paula crazy. And now, here she is, teaching Randy a valuable lesson about listening to his peers. ”
We're off to Day Two already, as we watch the shrieking kids arrive at A Historic Theater. I really think this is the same theater in Pasadena from the first season, but I can't be sure. For the first day of competition, each kid will step forward on stage and tell the judges why he or she thinks he or she should be the American Idol, and then sing. Fantasia Barrano is one of the first we watch. She says she should be American Idol because her lips are big, but her talent is bigger. Everybody laughs, including Simon. She puckers up and shows that her lips are, indeed, large. Then she wails out "Think," and does indeed sound a lot like Macy Gray, but with a better voice, and louder. And a touch less flaky. In a neat little touch, they edit in a scorecard under the auditions that shows how the judges voted during the initial auditions. All three judges voted for Fantasia. The others all cheer. Backstage, Fantasia tells us that the red high heels she's wearing are killing her, and rushes off somewhere to remove them. Ah, pretty shoes that try to kill you. More reminders of why I'm glad I'm not a girl. Or a drag queen.
up is Jon Peter "Piper Picked A Pen Salesman Position" Lewis. Flashbacks remind us that Simon loved Jon's voice, but thought he was a meek little mouse of a man. Jon brought a pen with him to wave around as he tells Simon that he can sell more than writing utensils. Why, I'll bet he could sell file folders and envelopes as well. Oh, Jon means his voice. He rushes awkwardly through "I Want You Back," by the Jackson 5. His voice is still good, but his pacing sounded just off on that. Maybe you really need the music on that song to sound right.
up is Kiira Bevins. They remind us that Randy was the only one who could stand her, but that he wouldn't shut up about her and drove Simon and Paula crazy. And now, here she is, teaching Randy a valuable lesson about listening to his peers. She's awful. I don't know what the hell she's singing, and nor do the judges. It sounds almost like the mic is having technical difficulties while she's singing, but it's just Kiira, vocally hopscotching her way up and down the circle of fifths on a pogo stick, blindfolded. Randy has the good sense to look horrified for having created this monster. In a confessional, Kiira, in a tacky red windbreaker, tells us she thinks she's going to make it to the final thirty-two. She says, "My voice -- I've never heard anything like it." That's just one of those wonderfully oblivious statements that doesn't even require a joke from me. I bet the editors about had an orgasm when she said that. up is Michael Keown. Shut up, Michael. Shut up, Michael's eyebrows. Pick a spot on his forehead and stay there, dammit. Who the hell is Diana Degarmo? Marque has discovered the joy of sleevelessness.