Tuesday
Punchline: Nikko Osborne.
Setup: Mario Vazquez, Seacrest, and George Michael walk into a men's restroomâ¦
So Mario left the show Friday, ever so controversially, and with his complicity, the speculative inroads center mainly on: contractual cold feet, sexual ambiguity, unlikely baby mamas, and one truly bizarre scenario wherein Seacrest is somehow "coerced" into masturbating for Mario's enjoyment in a men's room. Patently neither true nor the slightest bit titillating, this last nonetheless remains: totally awesome.
Ryan will only tell us that everyone at AI wishes him the best of luck, and asks additionally that the forum posters at Television Without Pity calm the hell down, before giving us Theme One: the "Sixties," signifying: nothing. "The song you were gonna sing anyway, or something just like it."
Jessica is cute again, and sings "Shop Around," and by the Jessica standard, especially after last week, she's awful. The ending is one totally sad, misconceived, half-assed melisma into nowhere. Randy and Paula offer nothing (she's got a "cool vibe"), and Simon calls her boring and uninspiring.
Anwar finds the schmoopiest, puppy-doggiest song he can think of, "A House Is Not A Home," then sings said song in a schmoopy, puppy-dog manner while dressed as like a Neverwhere or Matrix extra. Randy + Paula = nothing, and Simon points out how Anwar always looks and sounds perfect, yet bores the shit out of everybody.
Mikalah sings "Son Of A Preacher Man" and looks prettier than ever, again, but is wearing Tank Girl and Bjork's last Stitch and Bitch project. Randy calls the song "rough," Paula welcomes back "goofy" Mikalah who sings like hell, and Simon says her "confidence has exceeded [her] ability," which is at once true, pithy, and hard to watch.
Constantine: I got nothing. I mean, "You Make Me So Very Happy"? I guess Bo a priori won the whole stupid "rocker" thing, so 2Cats now gets the fruity tunes he wanted to begin with. It's not great, because he's not that great, but it means way less of, e.g., that Tori Amos vowel torture he's so fond of, and the possibility of some nice big full scratchy legit notes, maybe. Then Ryan says some kind of bathroom stuff I don't get.
Lindsey sings "Knock On Wood." For the tenth and likely final time, that's not what your voice is for, Cardinale. Get your ass together. So dumb, too low for her good voice, again, and you can't hear her, again, and you don't so much want to, again. Randy tells her she sucks, Paula makes her say aloud that she sucks, and Simon tells her that America hates her and she sucks. She doesn't, but that's become this, like, arcane secret.
A-Fed sings "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do," which: ugh, but at least that unnaturally strong voice is still clear and real, he plays the camera all kick-ass cheesy, and ends on a pleasantly non-showy low, sustained pitch. Then the Capri Sun finally sets, as Randy calls it "bad hotel," Paula calls it pitchy, and Simon likens it to a Christmas party, so I guess they're done, and it's too bad, because he has my favorite voice, technically. I mean, it gave me nightmares I haven't had since the singing bellybuttons. But still.
Nadia intros "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" with how if she's going down this week, it's got to be with an awesome song. All the non-AI-fans in my hotel room fell silent almost at once, and remained so, which, to give you some perspective, only happens with this crew if, like, cops show up, or when Julie Cooper comes onscreen. Randy tells her the night's finally begun, Paula is smart about Nadia's "playing the game," and Simon calls everyone "hamburger" to Nadia's "steak." Blech.
Bo picks the trippy flavor his one song comes in, "Spinning Wheel," something's happened with the hair and it's on the road to recovery, and suddenly he's almost unbearably attractive, all over the set like a jungle gym with leather pants and clean hair, and I don't know what to do, but then he smiles, and I'm over it, and then everybody freaks out like in Beatles footage where they're going to vomit and lose consciousness and claw their own eyes out all at the exact same time.
Vonzell sings "Anyone Who Ever Had A Heart," and this is what my notes say: "Sexy!" "Awesome," what I think says, "Emotions! It's like a little story!" and then I just drew six little hearts in a row, I guess thinking that would suffice. But see, that's just how she is: undifferentiated nice feelings emanating at all times like the opposite of that gopher thing with the bad vibes coming out of it in the catalog. Randy calls it "ambitious," Paula calls her voice beautiful, and Vonzell a "perfect showman."
Let's all forget Scott Savol. For real. Great voice, got it, but every week, it becomes more obvious how untrained and imitative the whole deal really is, and I don't want to know. The voice is my Jordan Catalano, and every time it pops a mint or blinks out its Visine, it presents as the total slacker it really is, and my heart breaks. Go home! He sings "Ain't Too Proud To Beg" directly to Randy, who tells him it was "hot," and Paula and Simon just try to stay out of whatever the hell just happened.
Carrie sings "When Will I Be Loved" -- so very, very Carrie that why even bother? If you like her, it was just like that. If you hate her, it was just like that. Randy thought it was "very okay," Paula bitches at her for not taking risks and calls her "boring," and Simon lies and kisses her ass that she's in the Bo/Nadia league. From my notes, again: "Big boring stupid Carrie."
In the "Don't hate him because he's not Mario" spot, Nikko starts off really comfortable, all awesome voice and his whole thing where he can sing like a Jackson Five song ("I Want You Back"), and somehow makes it soundâ¦not better? Just valid. Not karaoke. Systematically removing whatever it is that would cause the comparison to be made. Crowd loses marbles spectacularly, judges follow suit, and Simon dicks up a storm, insuring the votes he'll need to stay.
Review: Jessica utter disappointment, Anwar somehow both pushy and boring, that Mikalah stuff again, Constantine smarmy and confusing, Lindsey unmoving both as predicate and adjective, A-Fed done with, Nadia as usual, Bo still processing, Vonzell three blue hearts in hotel room ballpoint, Scott rad or whatever, Carrie Underwood was Carrie Underwood some more, and Nikko effing rocks. Tonight is results, which means eliminations, which kind of bums me out, which is in fact the troubling part. More so than the alleged stuff, in some ways. Maybe Amanda was right, and I've been in the trenches too long with these kids to take it lightly. Maybe I'm just exhausted from the alleged stuff. We'll see shortly.
Wednesday
What Ryan wants to know is: WHY? And I assume he means, "Why did Mario really leave?" But no, he's rhetorically wondering, on behalf of us all, why the judges were so darned hard on the contestants last night. Which is in turn called to testify as a material witness: Simon even loves Bo messing up the lyrics, Paula loves how Vonzell's a "showman," Scott feels at home almost anywhere, what with being a crazy itinerant, and Jessica really just forgot what the fuck she was doing.
Anthony is beloved by the sorts of people that attend live tapings of this show, Nadia "whet Simon's appetite," Nikko was welcomed back by the rather hyperproductive audience, Carrie is horrible to deal with but "nice," that "this lot" (us) agreed with Simon on Mikalah, (we did), and Constantineâ¦I don't want to go on and on about it. Then some Byzantine thing where they're going to perform extra songs for cash or something, for the sake of philanthropy. Ugh.
Then the group sings "When You Tell Me That You Love Me," and, you know, I can't. The Whatever include Anwar, Jessica, Nadia, A-Fed, and Mikalah, the Iffy include poor Lindsay and Anthony to start, and the Super-Awesome include the usual (for the most part) suspects: Nikko, Bo, Constantine (ick), and Vonzell. Carrie and Bo share a duet like that shit's going to rub off, and the camera tracks Mikalah through a whole Altman of drama, because that's her whole thing.
So now there's the disgusting drawn-out snuff film crap, right? Not so bad, plus Ryan is unshaven and generally looks about as hot as anything viable, but then, I'm in New Orleans this week, so I'm pretty skewed right now toward any boys that aren't actively screeching in Esperanto or Absinthetic or whatever the fuck drunk-talk carnie Made-Uppish dialect, cher. I'm pretty sure he looks exactly as good as a Seacrest can tonight, though. Even though he's telling us we're going to be singling out the bottom three before we get anything done.
First safe? Constantine, Nadia, and Anthony. Hands up those who are shocked, for slapping. Lindsey, who is obviously going home, is the first of the three tonight. Then Bo is safe and Carrie is safe and Scott is safe but doesn't matter, Mikalah is bullshit and second of the three, and Anwar is totally safe by any criterion. Then: Jessica fucked up last night, Nikko isn't Mario, and Vonzell equals a total lack of suspense.
Then everybody sings a stupid song about not parking on the dance floor. I swear to you that if this advice ever turns out to be of notice, I will have vastly more issues on my plate than parking, and it won't be welcome. It's just like always, dancing around the product-placed automobile like in that movie Freaks and it's all very exciting for absolutely nobody at all, but -- you'll correct me if I'm wrong, as far as Season Three -- way better than what I remember, in that it doesn't look like my cousin shot it on his Hi-8. Everybody looks super effing good, specifically Mikalah, Jessica, and effing A-Fed. If I promise I will never park on the dance floor, will you not show this to me again? Liar.
So then there's Lindsey, Mikalah, and Jessica, and they're standing there like fools, and Ryan and Simon flirt so much, all about how strong and manly and virile and mind-controlling Simon is, and Jessica's safe, that there's another commercial break, right before and about which Mikalah just starts openly bitching at Ryan, which gives Ryan the opportunity to do that thing he does I like so much, which is accidentally show how cool and smart and uninterested in all this he actually is, all, "Hey, why don't you bitch at me during the commercial break, halfwit?" And she shuts up because she gets it. She always gets it, sometimes it just takes a while.
Then Lindsey is over, even though she's wearing this ridiculous magic-looking Tucson rock around her neck, and there's a goodbye video that starts with when she was a little baby jazz chanteuse wearing country drag and continues for one million years until now, where she's a jazz chanteuse, wearing country drag. Figure it out, sweetheart. If Alison Moyet can get there, you can too. She is British, Lindsey! So's the Simply Red dude, for that matter. See what I'm saying? Figure it out! Show up the Brits!
Then she sings horribly and I'm glad the sing-outs are there and I'm glad she obviously knew she was going home, but dude, it sounds like shit. That makes me sad, even though physically she is rocking out in a very real way, jumping up into the Bo Spot behind the judges, and generally seeming bodily transported into a rock fantasy of unimaginable proportion while sounding aurally like Ruthie Camden and her weird French man thing, and then it's suddenly over because Ryan is still fine-tuning his very fine-tuned timing. So abrupt!
Tuesday
Big week, huh? First, Mario dropped out of the competition on Friday, amidst rumors of contract bullshit, fame-whoring, the ubiquitous Michael Jackson, and the excellent urban legend about him forcing Seacrest to masturbate in a bathroom. Then a similar rumor popped up about Bo -- the leaving the show one, I mean -- but immediately dropped like a lead zeppelin. Then Paula Abdul left the country to avoid a hit-and-run allegation. Then it was said that Bad Boy was going to sign Mario, but P. Diddy went on record as saying that he didn't know who the hell Mario Vazquez was, like he's got so much cred. Like he would never go near a reality competition show about musical performers.
It was at this point that the entire TWoP staff jumped to my aid, because nothing activates American Idol fans' secret craziness like a manufactured scandal, and I must give them a shout-out for this reason, particularly Miss Alli, and Sars, and LTG and Couch Baron. You are all talented, beautiful people and I love your recaps. I'm getting misty here. So then Mario took a trip to Courtney Town, all "I need my privacy" while booking himself on every talk show in existence, giving a different reason for leaving every time he left, not telling his mother what was really going on, and finally harassing the Simpson sisters and trying to commiserate with them about the vagaries of fame to the point where they had to kick him out of the VIP area. If this is really how fast the pop cycle is moving nowadays, we should see his left nipple in a man's mouth at the Burger King (such a quality restaurant, don't you agree?) by close of business Monday. And if he had a uterus, it would fall out by the morning. Although honestly, he's less Love than Peldon, because there's no reason for us to care where his left nipple ends up, but he's just famous for being famous now, and for being an insane fame groupie. And I just heard five seconds ago that he's hired Clay's lawyer to get out of his AI contract, which sucks because it means Drudge was right, and I hate that.
I kind of want to involve myself in the diminishing returns, here. Like, Ashlee Simpson is only pretend-famous, so he's trying to ride her coattails to that, while she rides her sister to halfway-legit, which means if I start stalking Mario Vazquez, I'll be at "khaki" on the celebrity alert scale, which is two steps above "slightly famous on the internet," which is what I am now. Which is also, by the way, why I've started hanging out with Miss Alli, but that's just parallel development as part of my plan to be exactly as famous as Lou Diamond Phillips, no more, no less. This is also the reason I keep trying to start rap beefs with djb, since all I did was piss Pamie off when I tried talking shit about Perry Farrell. I've got a chart over my computer and everything, so don't be surprised when I start dropping names like "Krista Allen" and "Matt Drudge" into the recaps in weeks to come. It's all part of my design. Lou Diamond Phillips, you will be feasting on my wake in no time.
Ryan looks so tiny on that big old stage. He's wearing a lavender suit jacket and another weird t-shirt, also lavender, with wide-leg jeans and cute little Chucks. I know he's tiny, but damn. He really talks nutty tonight and it's not very interesting, so we'll gloss over a lot of it. It's just kind of crazy and boring and stream-of-consciousness obligatory shit. He calls the kids "the most famous faces" on our screens, and says he wants to see what they can do. I just realized last week was my last chance to call the Girl Pound "Suffragette City," which was my plan all along, and now I can never make that joke. But there's no more Dawg Pound either, for the same reason, so I'm just going to call that entire part of the stage Suffragette City from now on. And while we're at it, I'm calling the other corner of the stage, where Ryan Seacrest lives, and across the giant new Seal to which the contestants now must trudge after getting hated on by the judges, the Temple Grandin Area. Now that I've put names to places in the new set, I feel more at home there. How very Lacan-via-Riley Finn of me.
Ryan takes the camera on a little tour of the stage and it's bigger and the Seal is kind of awesome to think about standing on, and there's a bigger band, and the crowd goes wild, and of course the judges, because this shit never changes or gets interesting, and then Paula looks cute and claps like a seal again. A drunken seal. Ork! Ork! Ork! Ryan pays lip service to the "real-life drama" of Mario and gives no indication of what actually happened, just wishes him the best and misses him and his little hats. The good news is that Nikko is back. For a really long time, I'm so totally sure.
We flash back to "just after the results show last week," where everybody is cheering and drinking a certain cola. This is so fake and embarrassing for everyone, yours truly included, but not for Ryan, because he was born without the gene for shame. If you're born without fear and look like Rachael Leigh Cook, you join the CIA. If you're born without shame and look like Ryan Seacrest -- or used to -- you host this show. I was born without compassion, so where should I…oh, here I am! Good deal.
Little Ryan only gets one clue out ("Let's Twist," Chubby Checker) because someone voices over Anwar's closed mouth, "That's the '60s!" This is so effing fake. It's like Anwar's not obviously brilliant, so just in case we don't get that, they're going to fake up a Family Feud moment for him. Then it's ugly because Bo (not 2Cats, note) yells fakely, "Even rock?" and then he and Constantine are made to do the Twist. And this -- pay attention -- this is central, because it's both what we're supposed to be buying, but also the real deal, which means that the marketing strategy here has officially changed to be closer to reality, because Bo does it five different kinds of ashamedly, while Constantine dorks on up to center stage and does his Elimidate dance again, and generally acts like his usual self-styled sex offender self, and thinks that's acceptable and great, because he's an ongoing identity crisis on every level, and then Bo makes a "cut" gesture across his throat and demands the tape right there, because he's 99% legit, and Constantine mugs and preens and acts like a big old girl, and there you have it: the truth about Bo and Constantine, played for laughs.
It's the truth, yes, but it's also now part of what we're now being sold, which kind of cheapens it, but makes me like both of them a little more, and more importantly speaks to the power of the internet: now, if we can just get them to dress A-Fed and Nikko more appropriately, and give poor Carrie her soul back, the show might just be watchable, because everybody will actually be who they are.
First up are Jessica and Anwar, who go together because they are both really good and also potentially really boring most of the time.
Jessica wanted to sing "Shop Around" (Smokey Robinson, who I had many a nightmare about as a child), because it's "fun and funky," which fits her character, while being "bluesy," which fits her voice. Good reasons, even though I don't care for or about the song at all. She's got cute fat Good Ship Lollipop curls and another boob shirt, and she's wearing a white jacket with flowers appliquéd all over, which are duplicated on the screen behind her. She's wearing the ubiquitous sash across the bottom of the shirt, and I feel dumb for not realizing that this isn't a hot new ugly fashion trend, it's actually costuming, because for her and all the other women this year wearing the sash, it breaks up their bodies and makes them look like they have waists. Which, for various reasons, most of them do not.
Jessica's makeup is very "desert rose." I do think she's lovely, I just think that a lot of looking our best is about minimizing the less attractive parts of us, while emphasizing the more conventionally attractive stuff. For Jessica this means cinching her breasts up to her lack of neck, but she kind of trails off after that. I'm no stylist, though, so I can't tell you what she should do about her exceedingly jacked-up teeth beyond emergency aid. She looks a little distracted and not really there, so even though her voice sounds pretty nice, it's like we're watching something that happened a long time ago. The judges are talking the whole time, and she goes flat a lot, and even looking into the camera she looks a little bored. She tries sometimes, but it fades in and out. Maybe she's really tired. Her voice is really good, so even when she isn't trying, like now, it isn't that bad. Her family -- who are, by the way, exactly who you thought -- are all wearing identical red cola shirts and screaming their asses off.
Randy calls it "okay," and a little pitchy, and he complains that he wanted it "on and popping." "On and popping," as we'll see, is the "make it your own" of this week. Probably because with Nikko and Anwar onstage that concept became redundant, because they show everybody else up so bad in that arena. Paula's a "huge fan" of Jessica's vocals and "cool vibe," signifying nothing, and she thinks Jessica did "a really good job," and the crowd, or something like them only prerecorded, goes wild at this. Simon calls it a "very boring, uninspiring song" and her grandparents get a little pissy, and Paula protests that Jessica has got it "going on." Ryan invites Jessica to the Temple Grandin Area to "hang out" on a stool whilst he explains about "texting" some more, and pats her shoulder across the space between them with a fully extended straight arm, instead of touching her in any actual way.
Anwar will be singing "A House Is Not A Home," which very idea makes me cringe. I don't know anything about music, we've established this, but I do know what I like, and a lot about what I like, and one of those things is Burt Bacharach, because his songs make me feel like I'm on a sepia-toned shopping trip to a retro-futurist mall with radiator flanges up the exterior of the building and ladies' voices are coming out of the speakers all soothing and "bap bap bap bahhhh" and everything is pastel pink and brown and polka dots and I'm about to get a facial and Audrey Hepburn is there with a cute little dog and a sleeveless dress and she really likes my shoes, and later on we go to a cocktail party where we talk about Kissinger and drink ludicrous cocktails and even though people get drunker than shit and fall down and make out with each other's husbands and every third person is some kind of prostitute, there's still this '60s lie about the whole thing where it seems glamorous and classy and fun. And there's no better place to be, for me, and good old Burt and Hal take me there. Burt, you send me.
So there's trepidation, because this is the only song I can think of that doesn't make me feel just like that, and I'm somewhat reassured by Anwar saying that "musically and vocally it goes places that are beautiful, and it just makes sense to me," because that's such a music theory thing to say, but I know that he really did it because it's incredibly earnest and fake Anwar emotion. What doesn't make sense to anybody, though, is the outfit. It's totally like a pirate talking about when doves cry. If there was Queer Eye in the Matrix, this is how Pee Break, I mean Jai Rodriguez, would dress on his days off. I mean, he looks great, but great for, like, Burning Man or something, not for middle-America TV.
He screws up a few phrases early on, sliding in all thin and then powering to compensate. In general, there's a lot of flat sliding around, which is so weird, because he's the most controlled of all of them. There's some of that bar mitzvah singing thing where you power-slide into certain notes, which always sounds messed up and cheesy. His shirt is buttoned down to his navel. I hate this. I hate it. Plus the fake audience screaming is really intrusive. Then he smiles and it's a little sad but I don't know if it's because he's emoting the song, or because he's sucking.
Randy expected it to be "on and popping" again, and calls it a safe performance that wasn't really that great, and the audience may or may not give this an actual boo; I won't commit to saying it actually happened because I can't see them and I don't trust these bastards at all anymore. Paula says it was "strange" because his voice is usually extremely open and big, but she doesn't complete the thought, just switches to praise about how his voice is exquisite and his style is flawless. She says this in a "giiiirl" kind of way like when her makeup guy tells her she looks "flawless," and I hope she pays him a lot because even though she's got the gimp eye and can't sit up straight usually, and sometimes will try to run you down and then drive away really fast and maybe even leave the country, generally she has been looking "flawless" this season, surface-wise. What's awesome, though, is how he takes it in just this same specific hairdresser way, all, "Work it, Paula!" and maybe he's more comfortable than he has been because Mario took off the gay heat for a week or so. Simon tells him that there is no question about the fantastic voice and presence he has, but cautions him -- as he has every fucking week, not that Anwar's listening -- that the time for proving himself is over, and now he should do something other than bore the shit out of everyone, because Simon would hate for Anwar to suffer for being what he essentially is, and would like to head that off at the pass.
up are Mikalah and Constantine, who go together because they are gross and seem to inspire a certain kind of self-hating Stockholm Syndrome in a sizeable portion of the audience. Also sometimes recappers. Also there are a bunch of girls flirting with the camera because we've turned a corner in our culture.
Mikalah will be singing Dusty Springfield's "Son Of A Preacher Man," so if "any sons of any preacher men" want to call her, that's great. Mikalah needs to understand that it's okay to play the sex kitten thing, and okay to address the audience, but she needs to tone it down on both counts, and alternate them or break it up at some point, because there's a subtle difference here between what she thinks she's doing, which is being brassy and giving the Tallulah Bankhead/Marlene Dietrich vibe of extreme sluttiness, and what she's actually doing, which is giving the impression that she can pull a train a mile long, and that difference is not giving it up, it's about sharing the joke that you're only kidding and won't actually sleep with everyone in the audience, and she does not really give this impression. The impression that she actually gives is one of stamina and endurance.
She starts off utterly overpowered by the accompaniment, which would normally be a bad thing. She's wearing really garish makeup -- ruby lipstick and lilac eyeshadow -- but because there are parts of her persona that she's trained to sit up and beg, she looks incredibly beautiful, as usual. Kind of like how Amanda Avila could look utterly cute and unintimidating wearing, like, pasties and a g-string with Ron Jeremy's face screen-printed on it. I'd like to see Mikalah when she wakes up -- in a gutter or strange hotel room or wherever she usually happens to find herself waking up -- so I can remember that this is all a trick of makeup magic. I've seen her at her worst, and she did it to herself back then, which means somebody very smart is working on her image, and I hope it's Paula's makeup guy that I made up, because he would LOVE Mikalah. She's wearing very Anwar pants -- concept and pinstripe and utterly wide-leg, like Dance Dance Revolution-kid cut wide-leg, giving off this whole impression of being for the most well-dressed carpenter imaginable -- and she does some vulgar dancing and has a terrible, awful, grunged-out, hopeless voice again.
Randy says "that was rough," which is one of my favorite things he says, because he always says it so wearily, like he had to pop an Aleve to get through it. Paula likes that "goofy" Mikalah is back, because she doesn't give a fuck about vocal quality, she just likes pretending Mikalah's the clown at her personal birthday party, and says something about how she wasn't completely singing "on mic" the whole time, because if there's one thing you can't fault Paula for, it's her unprocessed and un-lip-synched singing back in the day. She is giving us hard-won technical knowledge here. Don't criticize her. She is a Doctor of Vibeology. Simon tells her that "your confidence exceeded your ability tonight," but I mean, that's kind of true every night. She takes a sad second and just kind of sighs, and it bums me out, and there's a little booing about that but Simon says the small boo proves that they by and large agree with him. She gets a hold of herself for a sec, and returns to baseline: "Well, the audience looks really fabulous tonight." I swear to God she is an actual drag queen.
You can't even really hear her, due to the redoubled booing, which was the point of Simon's whole speech, and then Ryan opines that she was "itching to turn it up" because she was "tired of the slower pace" of the last few weeks. She agrees, but without understanding what he means, admitting she "was a little itchy today." Dude. She fucking needs to start writing Ryan's copy, because that was comedy gold, even if she didn't intend it and in fact said it apropos of nothing. She's smiling into the right camera at all times, which apparently is harder than we think since not even Bo's got that down, and it's very impressively professional of her, because she's really good at one half of all the things she needs to be pretty good at. Split the difference, kid. She keeps stepping on his lines as he tries to get us out to the segment, and he keeps smiling like, "I work alone, kid," and she's all "shtick, that's all I have is shtick" and finally he physically pulls her off the stool so she'll leave the Temple Grandin Area.
Effing Constantine wants to sing "You've Made Me So Very Happy," because if he's sharing his musical pants with anybody, it's not Bo: they're coming out of the same musical pants closet as Anwar's and we will finally get to see something worthwhile. One hopes. He even explains very ingenuously that he picked it because he can remember it on the radio in the car when he was a kid. He's wearing some kind of Celtic cross, okay, and some jacked-up corduroy pants with rips and strange stains, and his horrible face. God. This giant stupid onyx ring. He's dressed all sixties, I guess, but more like a record-store owner who really wants to get the band back together. The bad pronunciations are still here, but not as bad, because we're a half-step closer to the non-"rocker" reality of him now. I didn't hate this on Tuesday, and had all kinds of issues about that, but watching it back, there's more of the same bullshit, so forget it. He does these Anwar smiles of how very, very happy we've made him, which is trouble because it's at odds with the fake sexy thing he is still doing, but also because it kind of violently highlights the many chins issue. The last note does not suck at all, which is too bad because it's calculated. Also calculated (and wicked misguided): He also keeps doing the patented Angela Chase "hair behind the ear" move, and the awesome thing with that on her show was how she used it very intelligently at certain moments and it spoke volumes about her insecure teenage-girl sensibility. The troubling thing is that it does the same thing here.
Randy and Jacob think it was his best performance to date, but in the same way we're proud of Eminem for getting his GED. Paula liked it, especially the last note. Which was only good by comparison and would have been knocked flat in the road if any of the actual good singers had turned it in, but for him is a measure of success and improvement. Simon calls him a "smoldering idol" and Randy's like, "You liked it, huh?" in this disbelieving-how-gay-and-incorrect-that-was kind of way. Then Simon steps up like a carnival barker to fool us about what's right in front of our eyes, again, some more, talking about how all the girls will call to vote for him. Which is actually a thinly-veiled post-hypnotic command: "Prove how much you love Constantine by calling the number in a few minutes! Belong! Everybody's wearing Burberry! Uggs too! Constantine is so hot right now!" Maybe it's just some half-remembered trauma, but like, I really don't like what that says about teenagers? You know?
Speaking of going along with things without considering your motives, this also causes Constantine to devolve into an explosively impressive suicide girl mess, fake eye-fucking and lip-pursing and tongue-moving and all kinds of tics and shady glances and hair-acting and posing and posture experiments. Even as Ryan's giving the numbers (and he's cam-flirting all "call me!" with the phone gesture, ugh) and flirting with him about how when he's onstage with Constantine, he feels the need to wear "heels." (Okay? That's one, Seacrest, and I'm even giving you a free pass on the lavender ensemble.) I hadda take a nap after that train wreck. It was very Ashlee Simpson on 7th Heaven just now, like just spawning tics and mannerisms at a phenomenal rate. When Constantine doesn't know what to do? He really doesn't know what to do.
God. I don't know what kind of crack I was on, on Tuesday when I worried about not hating him anymore but at least my recaps wouldn't be so fucking long, but it is so not a problem anymore. I'm back. up are Lindsey and Anthony, who go together because: why are they here?
Simon giggles as Ryan introduces Lindsey, who regrettably talks about how she was born in the '80s and thus has never heard a song older than Britney Spears's seminal "Email My Heart," which is by the way utterly the best song you've ever heard in your entire life and I demand that you download it -- um, legally -- right this second because you will not be disappointed, and whatever. That's not an excuse, but she's not really saying it as an alibi for how bad she's about to suck, it's more about telling us a little bit about Lindsey's day: "I was a little worried, then I picked this song, then I ate a BLT with the crusts cut off, then we had mojitos -- well, Carrie drank Sierra Mist -- and Constantine sang us some song about his botched East German sex-change operation and that was weird, and then I had a nap. I love fresh tomatoes on a BLT, and the color blue."
Eventually after what I'm sure was a long and extensive inquiry into the history of music, she found "Knock On Wood" by Eddie Floyd, and she swears she's going to have "so much fun with it." She says this exactly like my friend Sharla when she means the opposite. There's a creepy black ribbon around her neck like her head will fall off if you pull on it, like in that ghost story. There's an unfortunate series of events where every time the thunder and lightning parts happen in the song, she makes a cute face and gestures cutely, like everybody does to that song (as spacecitymarc pointed out, the finger guns are universal), but two of the cameras are set to take in the entire stage and there's a close-up camera, but none of the cameras are good for a full-body middle shot, so it keeps cutting back to the full stage shot when she does these things, which means you can't really see them, and the idiot in the booth figures this out about two seconds before the song ends, so you don't ever get to see her cute Donner/Blitzen faces and gestures, which I'm sure constituted the majority of her rehearsal time, and none of this is her fault.
What is her fault, though, is her singing, and since the judges aren't watching this travesty of camera work, just the travesty of the performance, they speak to that. Randy's just blown away by the sucking tonight of almost everyone, and Paula can't think of anything nice to say, so she just asks Lindsey how she thinks she did. And Lindsey admits that you can always do better, but, like, I've watched it like ten times and oftentimes without even looking, and she wasn't that bad. Certainly not bad enough for Simon to say that 30 million TVs just had their volume turned down. Then Ryan completes the four-tet of doom by going all apologetic about how none of them have heard these songs before (which is especially sad because at least two other people spoke directly about how they managed to find one song they knew previously), and that's not the problem either.
The problem is that this is now a real competition, with voting involved, which means it's a freak show, which means you have to be a spectacle, like the rest of them are (with the notable exception of Nikko, until they get desperate and start pimping his dad again), and the only way that could happen is if Lindsey fucking got it together and sang the appropriate songs for her voice and sang jazz instead of trying to be Gretchen Wilson or whatever the hell she thinks her calling is.
A-Fed's going to be singing "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do," but that's not the punchline, so hold the laughter -- I know it's hard -- because the reason that he gives? Is that he "connects spiritually and vocally" to the song. "Solitary Man"? "Different Drum"? yes. Much of the Xtina oeuvre, even, would be acceptable. "Good Morning Starshine," only if you're Constantine or Anwar. But if you feel a real connection to "Breaking Up Is Hard To Do," it's because your heart has been replaced by a single-serving slice of processed American cheese product, and for some reason your body did not reject it.
Which is in fact exactly what happened. "I was born without a heart and they said I would never connect emotionally to anything and so the doctors installed a slice of American cheese in my chest -- which I'm showing you right now because I don't own any shirts that button to the sternum -- and now here I am not only loving Neil Sedaka but talking about it on TV, and they say that it's a medical miracle, but you know? I'm just here to do my best."
So Anthony, who I just love at this point, is sitting on a stool in a black polo and…wow, kid's got guns. Who knew that tiny little body had biceps of note? Weird. Why haven't we seen this before? Is it because they thought we were buying the nerdy Clay thing? Like we still think he has anything to do with Clay anyway. Jesus, that's dumb. Anyway, maybe they're figuring out that selling him as an actual hottie instead of as having that thing, whatever that thing the Clay fans find so sexy about Clay. Which I think is actually what fuels Anwar's fan base, and not A-Fed's at all, which is a sincerity that goes so deep that if you peer in you can see people walking around all antipode and calling each other "mate" and putting shrimps on barbies. But A-Fed does not have that thing. What he does have is a whole other thing, a very specific troubling must-repress David Gallagher thing, which thing tonight is wearing a tight black shirt and stretchy pinstripes.
Then the judges turn on him like he just bought a necklace in Versailles, all, "that was a below-average performance in a bad hotel" and "drunken office-party ass-showing," and even Paula calls it "not up to par," which is an incredible amount of bullshit because he's exactly the same all the time. She then goes further, saying that it was pitchy, and while he's been good-natured up to this point about the criticism, this is simply wrong, and he and I both are kind of offended. I think the deal is that she still hasn't figured out what Randy means when he says this, but because he didn't say it this time, she got excited and wanted to say it herself, so she just shoehorned it in there. Anyway, A-Fed's kind of hurt by this, and makes a total puppy face, and then Simon makes this awesome frog face like, "Are we wrong?" and in the Temple Grandin Area he's still hurting and confused and so Ryan touches him all over his body (that's two). I don't think people have been very mean to him in his life, because he's very cute and deceptively young-looking. This is probably a shock for him, tonight. Poor guy. Poor little power voice. Poor little camel toe. Poor little hurt fake smile. Poor little counterintuitive upper-body strength. Poor little Anthony.
: Nadia and Bo, who go together because…come on, you know why.
Nadia will be singing the awesomest of the twelve songs chosen tonight, Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me," and that is exciting. She knew the song was the one for her: "It fits me like a glove, and if I'm going to slow it down this week, that's the one to do it to." I liked it better when I thought she said, "If I'm going to go down this week," but that's fine too. She's wearing a dress/bracelet combo made of a giant vintage blue-green paisley handkerchief, and looks like a million bucks, of course. We finally get to hear a lot of her upper register, which is sweet and powerful. She's got crazy sexy dancing, always to the beat and incorporating the poses, just like always. But there is something new: there are faces. Faces I have not seen on a person before now.
She makes some effed-up faces! Dude! I know she's not mad at me, because I love her as well as I can. Maybe she's mad at one of you? Girl is singing with some rage faces. It's an awesome song, and she's really controlled and smart tonight. Things finally go nuts with some kind of crazy trumpet, and she takes the mic off the stand and everybody goes nuts because that means it's time for the Whole Nadia Thing. And it is. I surprise myself at this point by wishing it could go longer. I have never wanted more minutes of an American Idol performance before.
Randy gives some "props" and says, "The show finally started tonight, guys. Nadia started the show off." (Halfway through, by the way.) Paula's "excited" for her, because she's "in it to win" and "playing the game." She's "proud." I just want to know what the fuck she's doing here. Seriously. Simon says that "in competition full of hamburgers," Nadia is "a steak." Palua screams, "Oh, that's perfect!" Yeah, he's a wordsmith, Paula. She smiles beautifully at the camera with the number underneath her face, and you can tell she thinks all this is very nice, but she'd like to get her ass off those heels just a little bit more.
Bo is going to be singing "Spinning Wheel" because his ancient ass was the original vocalist for Blood, Sweat and Tears. He's wearing leather pants and I think a size 22 boot. Seriously, if he weren't so big all through himself they'd look like clown shoes. The judges are not surprised when he goes running off the stage but it's because they've built risers behind the judges' table specifically for Bo Bice to be all hot and awesome all around the place. The light shining down directly on him when he gets back to the stage is terribly bright and makes him look…pretty amazing. Okay, I believe the words I used were "almost unbearably attractive," but whatever. His hair is halfway to presentable (and look out, because tomorrow night they're going to iron it flat and take him all the way past "all right" to "Catherine Zeta Jones," so be careful what you wish for, on the internet), and the pants, and the shirt, and the whole...I don't know. He reeks of legitimacy. Also sandalwood.
Randy calls him "one of my dawgs" and "fearless" and professes his total man love and tells him, "This is the way to get it done, dude." Paula informs him that he's "already a superstar" (at which point, Bo, you walk off the stage and into your actual real life), and urges him to "do his thing." Simon tells him this stage can either make or break him, and I don't really know what he means by that -- literal stage? The Seal? This stage of the competition? His life? Evolution? -- and that he looks like he's been doing it for twenty years. HE HAS!
Ryan congratulates him on "working the catwalk out there." That's three. Congratulations, Seacrest, you are now gay. Welcome home.
The Bo smile, the one with baby-bones sticking out of it, is getting better, but it's still troubling. Someone is in the audience is wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Bo on it which is so fucking hideous that it almost changes my opinion about the performance itself, but then no, it's just my opinion of the person wearing the shirt. It's like if there was a fan club and they all wore t-shirts with my school ID picture where it looks like I have pinkeye. You have to be like, "Thanks, y'all," but inside, there is trauma.
Ryan talks crazy some more, because he's just come to some conclusions about himself on TV, and then Vonzell discusses her song choice, Dionne Warwick's "Anyone Who Had A Heart." Dionne Warwick, for me, does not go to the immediate, easy comedy place of the TV psychics, but in fact to the fact of my love for the movie Clueless, which thoughts make me happy in precisely the floating-signifier, unattached way Vonzell herself does. Awww, it's Vonzell. This song gives me goosebumps, I love it so much. And you already know exactly why: it's because now I'm back in the mall of the future of the past. And I just realized this, and it pisses me off, but Sarah Jessica's there too, and she's wearing "pretty khaki" and dancing around like an asshole and her teeth aren't teeth but pearls, so now even my happy place is being invaded by the Gap. Have a Mocha Valencia on me and say hi to your gay husband, S.J., because you are not coming to the party with me and Audrey.
Vonzell is wearing a hella-beautiful fire-colored dress, and her hair looks great, and she is working the cameras like a bomb. She's so much more than cute right now, she's a force. Also, her ass is magic. You gotta look at that thing through a hole in a paper plate. This dress has powers to bend the minds of men and break us all with adoration. Just like Vonzell. Also awesome is how completely she gets the song, like an Anwar level of understanding where the emphasis and phrases need to be, without just going vocally by the book. She's so great. She throws a "yeah" in there, but it's okay because it's just leading up to the power part at the end. I love this song because it's so plaintive but there's also a rage there: "WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME? I WILL CUT YOU!"
Randy gives good feedback, to the general tune of how powerful her voice and presence are, and how with horses that big, you've got to retain control. Paula also hits the nail kind of on the head when she outlines the three relevant talking points: Vonzell looks beautiful, sounds really lovely, and is a great "showman" with beautiful "showmanship." Simon takes another, no less accurate tack, saying that Vonzell is really good at staying in the exact middle of the road with everything that she does, not bad but not shocking, and that unless she does "something great," she'll be out within five weeks. Which isn't bad, as far as your final position in the contest, but I have to admit to anxiety about this too: as much as I love her (and you know I do), I can't see myself picking up the phone for her, if I were picking up the phone at all. Tonight specifically, she and Nadia are digging through the bins in the exact same Filene's, and Nadia is ruthless and will crush her, but generally she's splitting votes with everybody. She is still not memorable. That's the ugly side of the undifferentiated pleasantness coin: the undifferentiated part.
: Not Carrie or Nikko, because Nikko's last and Carrie would look like shit comparatively, so who else is there? Mario ruins everything. I honestly can't remember…oh, Scott. Great. Can we talk about Scott for a second? This pony's getting tired, due to having to do the same trick every week, and you can start to see the cracks in the awesome, and I don't want to. He's singing "Ain't Too Proud To Beg," which is just a fine song for people to sing, I guess. He grew up on Motown and the Temptations and thinks it'll be fun to sing, "as well as the crowd getting into it also," he Paulas. That was a perfect Paula right there. You know, I think they let him talk so long in this interview chair so that it's even more shocking when his gorgeous voice comes out right after. There are, like, Marines dancing around in the bottom row of the crowd. Why? Luckily, he shambles down off the stage and sings half the song to Randy Jackson, ignoring the crowd altogether. I wouldn't really describe it as HoYay, because: I like you. And me. This is my birthday present from myself to myself: none of that.
Randy says a lot of nice things, only backhandedly remarking that it was "mostly in tune," which sounds way worse than what he means, but all in all, he loved Scott tonight, it was "very nice." Paula says he looked like he had some fun out there, and did a, quote, "good job good job." (Ork ork ork!) Simon was surprised, because for some reason he thought Scott would be having a problem, tonight. Which I don't get, because this whole Motown thing is kind of Scott's deal, even though his perfect voice could whip the hell out of just about any boy band song he could sing. Not that that would happen, due to the mind-warping cognitive dissonance, but still. This is his bag. Anyway, Simon tells him he did a good job. Then there's a weird moment where Ryan asks for some energy from Scott, for once, and he responds by hopping around frighteningly and then clapping his hands together like Frankenstein clapping erasers, and Ryan's all, "Yeah, there's some, uh, some energy. Scott Savol, everyone." Doubt he'll be making that mistake again.
: Carrie and Nikko, because the less time between them and the lines opening, the better, because nobody can remember anything about them or the songs they sing, and of course because Nikko needs every point possible to his advantage.
Carrie wants to sing "When Will I Be Loved," by the Everly Brothers, because she performed it "at a country show" at her college. If somehow I ran across a "country show" on campus at my school? I do not know how I would respond. I would not be happy, I know that much. She's wearing dark clothing, which I think is a first, but she looks great. Her makeup and hair are awesome, and her smiles are more genuine. It really does come down to nerves with her, I think which is so weird because she's a performerbot. Clearly, though, she's feeling better. She really gives a lot to the audience, you can tell she's trying to connect to the people in the studio more than the camera, at which she does not even glance the entire time, which is an interesting way to go and kind of marks her as more of a performer and less of a TV person, and that's weirdly cool. Carrie's family and friends all look the same and she's got a giant sash around her neck.
Randy had high hopes (although not that she would be "up and popping" or whatever), but thought this was just "very okay." Paula gets "harsh," talking about how it wasn't a risk in any way and how it was all very safe and boring. She apologizes, but come on. That's true, but it's why she's here, and you know it's all she's capable of, so the exhortations to take risks are futile because the second she does, it's going to be a bloodbath, and you're going to freak out on her for doing it, so why even go there? Simon points out how the judges are all actually mannequins with preset behaviors and replaceable heads, so now it's totally weird because Randy and Paula were "horrible" but he's about to be nice. Then he says that there are three people in the competition (last time he said this, it was four, but that was before Mario's need to see Seacrest in flagrante got the better of him) who "actually know who they are, musically," and she smiles but doesn't know what he means, really.
What he means, though, is not exactly a compliment in her case, because she's not an American Idol, she's a Nashville Star, and she deserves to be over there, because I think she would win. Not that that's exactly a compliment either, because what I'm saying is that I think she has the grit and the stuff and the talent and the power to win Nashville Star, which is a show I would rather die than watch. I mean, I really hoped Prettiest Girl Of All Time Natasha Henstridge would do well on Celebrity Fear Factor, too, but I didn't watch and root for her or anything. You know what? Carrie, I like more right now. I like her more this week. So if she's getting a soul, and A-Fed's dressing appropriately, that means in a few seconds we'll see Nikko's outfit and then we'll know if I really have magic mind powers like Patricia Arquette, which sounds like a total hassle but on the other hand does mean we'll have a Bo/Nadia Final Two, and that Seth and Summer are going to break up again in about five minutes. Such is the power of my clairvoyance. Tremble.
Nikko sings "I Want You Back," one of my few favorite Jackson Five songs, and his reasons are so cute: it's a great song, and it's great to be back. Awww. Onstage he immediately tosses his hat, it's also cute, and -- yep, he's dressed like a guy all of a sudden, instead of a strange little old man, so, like, sorry, Captain Oats -- he's wearing this crazy pinstriped business jacket with, like, white stitching puff-painted on. I don't know what the hell that's about but I like it. He's much better to watch like this, dressed like a kid. The voice is as usual, but maybe a little more fun to listen to. I know I already said this, but I love how he makes it seem like he's never heard the original version ever, because it's so thoroughly his version or whatever. It's the most interesting thing about his performance each time.
Randy's glad he's back, and everybody of course freaks out; Paula loses her minor powers of speech all, "You did it you just did your own thing and that's what it's all about." Ugh. Simon, though, Simon thought he "sounded horrible." He didn't! I don't really care, but Simon is 0 for twelve tonight. At this, a little old lady freaks out in the audience and Simon puts forth the dubious theory that everyone in the theatre has lost the power of hearing. Ryan asks what it was like getting a phone call at 2:30 in the morning: "You thought it was a joke, didn't you?" Yes he did, but he's happy he's there. Me too.
To review: Jessica sounded even worse in rehearsals, Anwar sounded a little better but was still boring, and Mikalah was a tad more comfortable onstage. Constantine sucked marginally less royally, like only a marquis of sucking. Lindsey was even less interested and even more boring. A-Fed was kind of boring and freaked-out-looking, but not as much as Nadia, who was possessed by something other than the Spirit. Bo did the Bo Thing on the Bo Spot while singing the Bo Song. Vonzell pursed her lips and was a total vision. Scott pledged his love to Randy. Carrie was big boring stupid dumb Carrie, but was less repellent. Nikko rocked the hell out the thing and ended on a cool pointy pose. Seacrest still wants to make sure we know how to send text messages. That's like all he thinks about. Onstage at the end? Nikko, Nadia, Ryan, Bo, and Mikalah. Hmm. Well, actually, it's Nadia and Bo and two other people around Ryan, this week being Nikko and Mikalah because they need the camera time. Nikko's just staring at Nadia the whole time. Man, if my job involved standing that close to her, I wouldn't get shit done either. Good on you, Seacrest.
Wednesday
We are live! And the audience! Could not! Be more excited! Ryan's wearing last night's pale gray/lilac suit, I think, and a red t-shirt with the same scoop neck that he wore last night. Dude, Ryan looks fantastic. I'm sorry, but you have to give the props when the props are called for. This might be the best he's looked, like, ever. The whole unshaven thing goes to a non-George Michael place and just makes him look like a guy with guy feelings and guy thoughts and a guy apartment, instead of a Ken doll with a bump and a sports car his legs won't bend for. Later, we will see that A-Fed has also tried this, but isn't really to the facial-hair-growing portion of his life, so he just looks misguided and a little funny.
Ryan's so not even trying to be real about this speech about how the judges could be so mean last night, the camera cuts back to the judges, Simon's back in the baby blue sweater, but we don't deserve an answer, so it was rhetorical. Constantine stares all fake-sexy into the camera while everybody else smiles nicely, but I think maybe it's not completely his fault, because he's the tallest so he's always on the end, and he's utterly insecure and weird, so he just flips out and does the basic central thing of him, which is: being creepy.
Um, Bo Bice rocked and Vonzell and Anwar worked it and looked amazing. Scott made sweet love to Randy Jackson, surprising Simon. Randy didn't like Jessica so much. Nobody liked Lindsey. A-Fed was the exact same thing he always is, and Randy suddenly gave him shit for it. Nadia freaked everybody out because she's awesome. Why is she even here? She and Bo (and Mario) didn't want to be here for any reason having to do with this actual thing. And that is cool. Everybody loved Nikko except for Simon. Everybody was bored by Carrie except for Simon. Mikalah was confused. We see her terribly sad face in response to the judging meanness and honesty again. Constantine's pit stains did not distract from the best note he's ever hit.
Over the few weeks the people will be singing three songs and the most popular will be a single to benefit the Red Cross, but we'll not hear about that for real until week. This week, we get to hear a group sing of "When You Tell Me That You Love Me," which is such bad news. They all file out onstage like Up With People, in that faux-wandering way where they just find themselves on their mark by accident, and it's like this: Up front are Anwar, Lindsey, Scott and Jessica. Anwar is again dressed like a pirate, this time under a leather Serpico jacket. He starts the song, since he's one of the only ones that can start on the right note, Lindsey has the hated hipster Pink fauxhawk, Scott is wearing some kind of original gangsta fashion. Jessica hits it twice as hard as the other three, and it's nice, and then Nadia just gives the camera a big old tongue kiss. A-Fed is out of his depth, key-wise, and even Nikko takes a second to get there, but there's a nice moment where you see Constantine nod his head a little bit when Nikko gets there.
Mikalah sounds great, really scratchy like that trashy girl from seasons past, who also rocked the fauxhawk and was blonde. I think. There are like three girls I'm describing, so just pick one. I think I'm thinking of the one who would always let her mascara run down her face like big gross stigmata clumpy tears whenever anyone got eliminated. Kim something? Who cares. Constantine smiles greasily into the crowd, who are waving their arms back and forth like Jesus is in the house. Vonzell gets the first glory note, and then Bo sings to Carrie, and he's suddenly got a Cher hairdo. Holy balls. Is this a wig? This might be grosser than the gross hair I was so upset by. He looks like a hair commercial. For girl products. What has happened? A Chi iron has attacked! With prejudice!
They all wander about some more, and the camera tracks Mikalah across the stage through her personal drama, but Nadia thinks the camera's for her because Mikalah is behind her, so it's confusing, because she's singing just to us, but we're all following the story of Mikalah. Even though we all know how it's going to end. Lindsey and Vonzell have identical movements behind Carrie, and the three of them take a soprano high section and it sounds nice; then A-Fed, Anwar, and Nikko all strive to hit the corresponding baritone part, and it's nice. Carrie gets the big solo line at the end, and all their arms go up in the air, except for Bo who does it a few seconds later, and comes off way more spontaneous and cool for it. Because it was actually spontaneous, and because he is actually cool. He's so adjacent to this entire venture, it's awesome. Like, half of them are doing this thing where they're not really part of the show, like the Curtain Puller in Our Town or something, but I only really buy it from Bo. This is because his not-belonging derives from the fact that he actually should not be there, while the not-belonging of, say, Mikalah/Constantine/Scott derives from the essential not-belonging that is endemic to the region of being Mikalah/Constantine/Scott.
They're all very hyped by the performance, afterwards. At some point during the song they got into it, and you can see the heavy breath of the performance high going in all of them. Awesome. The preset pimping camera angles (this song was all about Anwar and Carrie, for example, and a little Mikalah to scare you so you don't fall off the edge of your coma) are a little intrusive, but that's mostly because I just want to stare at and marvel at and touch and mourn the Bo hair issue, and the cameras won't let me. At the very end of the song there was a single hand in the air, I'm positive belonging to Carrie, because that's so Carrie, and I just saw Saved for the first time (I know, I know) and maybe it's just me but there seems to be a great deal of church camp going down right now. Really heartfelt hands in the air everywhere, and then Carrie's small white hand raised up to the sky, and the lights twinkling all around it and the focus sharpening to the point where everything but that one supplicant hand is blurred out, and the light sparking off her bracelet, and man. It's weird. Ruben Studdard is in the crowd and he's GIGANTIC.
This is our final chance to do that weird video contest thing I don't understand because I refuse to visit the American Idol website because of my strong conviction that there is nothing for me there. Ryan looks fucking great tonight. I always thought of him like Tilda Swinton, you know, like so just above gender and everything it entails, so I'm a little fascinated by the concept of him looking like a person instead of a lab creation, like mentally putting him in the Man box and seeing if he'll fit, but I will try to leave it alone, because he doesn't so much, he just looks good tonight. Anyway, bottom three time.
Constantine had his "best performance to date," according to Randy, Paula called it "real nice," and Simon referred to him incorrectly as the "Smoldering Idol," and it worked, so he's safe. Ryan thinks this is ridiculous, I think, and Constantine is so nervous his smile is twitching in that hangover way. Nadia gets a non-mic'd "Woo!" from the crowd, was called a "steak," and has a fan in Paula. She smiles graciously instead of cheering, which is what I did. She's safe. Her mom almost cries in the audience. A-Fed was a bad hotel at a Christmas party with free Capri Sun and failed entertainment and no razors. He's safe, which makes Simon shudder, but Anthony grins super-big anyway. Lindsey smiles sadly as we review the comments, and she even laughs a little bit about the 30 million silent televisions. She's the first of the bottom three, and Bo gives her a nice little grandfatherly pat. Five people that are identical to her cry in the audience.
Bo has a big fan named Randy, is "fearless," is a "superstar," and is safe. He smiles nervously and thanks the camera. Carrie looks scared to death and Bo gives her a pat as well, and then she indicates "sadness" w/r/t Randy and Paula's comments, then "joy" after Simon's comment that she doesn't understand because it's not really true. Simon mugs a little bit, because he was "right," again, in that he said something sort of nice and then she didn't get eliminated, so obviously this means that we are all his robots.
Scott was "hot" and beloved by Randy, got content-free notes from Paula, and surprised Simon with his goodness. He emotes his fear in that stupid overly-pushing-it way of his, and then praises Jesus again, ditto. Effing quit, dude. Mikalah looks totally freaked out. Also gorgeous. How did that happen, anyway? It never occurred to me to worry how we got a silk purse out of this deal. Bottom three, which I must say happened a bit sooner than I expected, but she summons her energy and smiles, and the crowd wigs out. Her scary mom looks upset and Mikalah smiles at Lindsey and calls her "baby" as she walks over to stand with her. The place where they're standing is awesome, because they have to walk across half the entire scary huge stage before anything can happen.
Duh: Anwar is exquisite, flawless, fantastic and boring and safe. Also as far as the competition, of course. He pretends to be surprised. Then the last three, so we do that thing where we talk to all three of them: Jessica, Nikko, and Vonzell. Jessica either was "just okay," "did a great job," or was "very boring." Guess who said what? Randy welcomed Nikko back, Paula was proud, and Simon found him "horrible." Nikko looks at Simon all, ugh, when Ryan reads this. Vonzell has a "good instrument," is a perfect "showman," and Simon is going to be requiring greatness from her. Jessica is the last of the bottom three. This causes her crazy grandmother to start shaking and spitting and being pissed as HELL and screaming and booing so loud you can hear it through somebody's mic.
Now we're at the Red Light Zone parking garage, where Lindsey's driving and Constantine is bitch, and they sing stupidly at each other. Down at the party, there's a speaker with neon lights taking up the trunk space like on "Pimp My Ride." There are all these central casting randoms dancing around. Mikalah's got this huge gothic M necklace, and is looking both hot and fun. 2Cats and Lindsey are still driving to this party, which, again, is being held in a parking garage. Spare no expense.
They're all singing in that disco "Word Up" voice and there's some bad lip-synch, but the individual voices (not whole lyrics, just melismatics) are nice, and processed. Carrie looks fucking amazing. Really beautiful. Nikko is in his own little Usher video. Nadia is dancing around, in her way, and A-Fed looks like a member of the Pussy Posse. Constantine forgets to sing and just stares super-creepily at Lindsey, who's still driving. Scott is dancing by himself, and I notice that the extras are giving him a wide, wide berth. Everywhere are gay boys dancing with straight girls. Oh! I've been to this club!
Jessica is flirting with someone imaginary. Nikko is still being Usher. Vonzell doesn't give a crap about anybody, she's just dancing. Bo may have been stabbed, I can't tell, but his face makes me think this is a dangerous stabby kind of club. Lindsey and Constantine are still driving -- this is like that commercial where you park in the bowels of hell and when you get to the bottom? American Idol party, baby! The thing here is weird, because see, the song is about not parking on the dance floor, but they're dancing on the park floor, leading us to question the underpinnings of what "dancing" and "parking" really are, and why people park on a driveway but park on a driveway, and it's either intentional, like a take, or just dumb. "How about that Sugar Ray song?" "Okay, but since they're not parking on the dance floor, we could have it in a parking garage, and they can dance!" "Revolutionary!"
Yeah, I know it's not a Sugar Ray song. Get out of my inbox. So when Constantine and Lindsey arrive to join the party, they park on the dance floor, or something. Everybody's dancing dancing dancing, and it's cool because it's not about their stupid singing, it's just a little movie about a brand of automobile, which is less offensive somehow, because at least it's well-produced in terms of being a cruddy music video. I swear Kurtis Park is here. At least his hair. I hate Sugar Ray, but I don't hate Mark McGrath anymore. Also, Sugar Ray and Mark McGrath are two different people. However, it's okay to call Darius Rucker "Hootie"; he's used to it, plus he's not allowed to get shirty with anybody in the world ever again, because: Bacon Cheddar Ranch. Here endeth the lesson.
Ryan pretends to be having a sincere convo with Simon about the voting and whether they are "less forgiving" or "listening to [Simon]" and Simon just acts all in charge of everything in this very funny faux-snide way but Ryan never gives in to the joke or cracks a smile about it. Paula is giggling drunkenly enough for us all. Then Ryan sends Jessica, obviously, back to Suffragette City. Ryan smiles as he tells her to sit down, and then Vonzell gives her a huge hug, and Jessica's grandmother about has a 'sode.
Now: something that still makes my tummy hurt when I think about it, several days later. "Mikalah, darling," Ryan says, "I'm sorry, it's bad news [pregnant pause]…you're going to have to wait three minutes to find out the results." Lindsey busts out, but Mikalah screams, "Aw, fu--" and the crowd cracks up. That's okay, and so very Mikalah, but then she pushes it. Ryan starts to say we'll be back, but she starts yelling at him off-camera about how she's way too freaked out for this shit, and it's kind of great because some awesome person in the booth actually turns her mic level up, but then total horror show because he turns to her with this face.
I have seen the face, and you have too, and Mikalah has been seeing the face her entire life, and she immediately shuts up and apologizes, because this is a face that says, "Sit your ass down or you are going to the principal's office and nobody will care that it is disrupting the assembly because you are fucking already disrupting the assembly, and I am not your friend, and I am not your big brother, I am doing a job here, and you are fucking it up, and I'm getting tired of it, and you've been pulling this exuberant, inappropriate shit in rehearsals too, and all the grownups and authority figures are getting sick of it, and you're about to be more trouble than you're worth, so don't bore me with this. You think I give a fuck? You think I'm going to be indulgent because you're so fucking special? I just might not love you anymore."
It's way hardcore, and really painful, because she immediately knows she went too far, and feels like a dick about it, and also, as awful as this face would be from anybody, this is Ryan Seacrest giving you this face. It throws her off for the rest of the show, and probably for the rest of the night, and I feel worse for her than I've ever felt for anyone on this entire show, because -- you might not believe this, but I was kind of a talkative kid, and was not above being inappropriate to get laughs, and this often led me down these Mikalah paths of fucking-uppery, and I can taste it right now in the back of my throat, but dude, this is not, like, my therapy, this is American Idol, so feel bad for her or don't, I don't care.
You know who else has seen the face, though? Seacrest, because he immediately turns it into a joke all, "You know what? Why don't you yell at me during the break?" but it's all already gone too far so all she can do is be pretty awesome and apologize to the audience in that waving-it-off way that Carrie Bradshaw perfected for every time she fell on her ass or stepped in dog shit, like how if your chair tips over backwards you have to smile at everyone in the room and give a sheepish wave so they know you're okay and not going to burst into tears and everybody's in on the joke so it's okay. And between her and Ryan saving face, and him offering to let her hit him, and her pretending to strangle him, that's the best we can do.
Ryan commiserates after the break, but she's still flipping out, and so is Lindsey, and then Mikalah stays, and she's so beautiful when she doesn't cry, because she's holding something back. All she needed was to be shamed on such a global scale that she shut the fuck up for one second. I'd like to think that she learned a little something tonight. She hugs Lindsey, who smiles really big and pretty, and Simon looks a bit downcast even though he's never really been that nice to her. She is really pretty, and smiles in a way that seems to indicate that she really does it together enough to know that she should be proud -- she should.
Then comes the part where we watch a video of her "journey" (DRINK!), so this is Lindsey: Very distinctive, pure voice that we hardly ever got to hear. Sang in her underwear all over the country on her way here. Got prettier every week. Refused to sing appropriate songs and got pushed out of the Carrie box. While the video is going on she keeps having to acknowledge the people in Suffragette City blowing kisses her way, but really she just wants to watch the video. Dude, I'd feel the exact same way. So then Lindsey sings, not very well, but physically she really puts her back into it. She's like the anti-Sarah Mather: happy body, sad voice. All that time I thought they were the same person, but really they're opposites.
So again, thanks and props to my TWoP heroes, wonderful writers and showmen all, for their help during WaterClosetGate, and to all the forum posters who didn't get banned? Thanks for behaving. Seacrest out.