You guys? It's back. Like Javier Bardem stalking you across the length and breadth of this great nation of ours ready to plug you in the brain with a bolt gun full of audition episodes, THIS...is American Idol
Seven audition cities this year, attracting every variety of freak you can imagine (and for some reason a disproportionately large number of balloon-animal makers), mostly because you've seen variations on these people before: girls with big dreams and bigger hair, boys with gold lamé shirts who have some things about themselves they need to come to terms with, girls who sing Aretha, boys who sing Aretha, and boys who will no doubt try to sing Rihanna and trigger every one of Simon's ugliest impulses. Ryan Seacrest flashes us forward through things we'll be seeing later on, and once the credits are finished, he finally tells us we're in Philadelphia tonight. So much American history just waiting to be defiled.
First up is Joey Catalano, who's lost 230 pounds but still can't manage a shirt that flatters him. He's the first lead-off auditioner since I've started recapping this show to be any good, singing Maroon 5 (damn you, Blake Lewis, what have you done?) and getting unanimous "yes" votes from the judges. Simon can't resist snarking on the weight loss, but Joey's too busy getting down with his people out in the hall to notice. Ryan wants to date Joey's grandmothers, of course, and they giggle but you know they secretly think they can do better.
Alaa "Yuka" Youakeem is from Egypt and has only lived in the States for three years. I guess the show wants him to be their Borat, what with him talking about loving American girls and how he has "sexyface." The show makes fun of him for the following reasons: 1) he can't speak English that well, 2) he's kind of smarmy in that way only Mediterranean dudes and/or eighth grade boys can be, and 3) he's got a prodigious gap in between his front teeth. He has a conversation with a tranny prostitute and when that doesn't scare him off, he's sent in to audition. The judges futz around with his name, despite that fact that it's on their call sheets, and he sings a Bee Gees song, because they're his heroes. He sucks, of course, and not even all that interestingly. Paula struggles mightily to tell him so, with Simon prodding her along, until Randy finally puts him out of his misery. Randy, by the way, has some weird facial hair action going on, with the sideburns that look like the blade of a hockey stick and the hint of a goatee. I'd make an "evil twin" joke, but thus far he's been the nice guy.
Melanie Yema used to sing backup for Taylor Hicks, the poor thing. She sings the theme song from The Hills, which you may have heard somewhere once or twice, and she gets through, albeit with lukewarm support. Randy actually yells, "Yes! You're going to Hollywood! Whatever!"
James Lewis works as one of those historical tour guides and dresses up like a colonial town crier and tells people about the Liberty Bell. When he's not wearing tri-corner hats, he's wearing giant three-piece suits like he's taking part in the NBA draft. Which he might be, because he's a giant. He also might want to consider the NBA for the reason that singing is so totally not in the cards. Dude, "yawning" is not an acceptable singing style. Neither is "waiting for the novocaine to wear off." Whose idea was this? None of the judges can look at him, and I am in my usual middle ground between thinking this guy is delayed and thinking this guy is playing a prank. As always, I'm hoping it's the latter.
A montage of random crappy auditions gives me time to note that Paula's hair is kind of Winehousian tonight, but like a shampooed Winehouse, which I suppose is an entirely different thing. Dude, leave it to people like Amy Winehouse and Britney Spears to make Paula seem together. I know last time we met I was in a very Paula-positive place, but then that show happened and we're back to square one.
Dead-eyed Junot Joyner and the giant cross around his neck both make it to the round, though probably not any farther than that. Of course, if Chantal taught us anything it's that dead-eyed reality show contestants can get pretty far, so who knows? Also going to Hollywood: cute hood-rat Jose Candelaria (who sings "Unbreak My Heart" in Spanish) and Jonathan Baines (who lets out a quiet "my word!" when he gets through).
Temptress Brown is a big girl, let's just get that out of the way. She tells Ryan she plays football as a middle linebacker, so then Ryan does a little play-acting where he takes a three-point stance and "comes off the line of scrimmage" like Temptress would, which is kind of adorable because of course middle linebackers don't line up on the line of scrimmage, but how would Ryan know that? Not because he is or isn't into dudes but because Sundays are when he hosts E!'s 100 Most Patronizing Red Carpet Interviews. Temptress threatens violence if you make her mad but then downshifts into how she's doing this all for her mom, who is Gilbert Grape-level medically obese and is very sick because of it. Man, American Idol so rarely earns these attempts at being heartbreaking/heartwarming, but I will say that Temptress -- who's kind of affectless when talking to Ryan -- opens up in the audition room and the judges all instantly take a linking to her, and when it becomes clear that she's not a singer, they all let her down very easy. She starts to cry and begs not to be sent back into that hallway empty-handed, and it's manipulative as all hell but fuck, people. This girl is sixteen years old and staring down the barrel of losing to her mother to something that's probably too embarrassing to even talk about, and all she wants is one moment to be proud of. I'm not made of stone here. The judges all decide to walk out into the hallway with her so Temptress can have some kind of a moment in front of her family, and everyone heads off her potentially angry dad at the pass with the news that Simon wasn't mean to her. Heh. This isn't what I watch the show for, but I appreciate the kindness on display. Anyway...
Mark Hayes can make cricket sounds with his mouth, and he's only here so that when he auditions suckily, the show can play their own cricket sound effects and somebody in the production offices can look at that and go, "See? Irony. Who needs scripted TV anyway?" Udgeet "Udi" Sampat is, for one thing, 45 years old and thus has no place on this show anyway. He's also that nightmare boss who will dress up like Elvis or MC Hammer and call it "improving morale." Big surprise: he blows. Hey, remember how every other audition episode for at least the last two years has been exactly like this one?
And speaking of which: look! Our first Montage O' Suck where everyone butchers the same song! This week's check-cashing artist is Joan Jett, whose "I Love Rock 'N Roll" takes a beating at the hands of, among others, a fat guy, a drag queen, a six-foot tall girl attempting to drop it like it's hot, a guy dressed up like a nerd, a goth punk scary lady, the Andrews Sisters, an angel, and a freak in a red wig.
is Alexis Cohen, whose impending meltdown has been teased going into every commercial break thus far. She looks like...a lesbian tennis player from the 1970s, plus seven tons of too-sparkly makeup, giant plastic star earrings, and according to Ryan, the stench of incense. She claims she "doesn't care" whether people look at her funny, which, as always, means she cares about nothing else but whether she can get people to look at her funny. She lives in a one-bedroom apartment with her mom, her two cats, her dog, her artwork, and her Asperger's. In with the judges, she says she gets compared, vocally, to Janis Joplin, Grace Slick, and Pat Benatar. Paula and Randy are like, "Whoa, big talk," and Simon's already dreading this. Her version of "Somebody To Love" probably kills at karaoke because it sounds enough like Grace Slick to pass muster without actually being good, which is the stuff of all good karaoke performances, because here's what nobody talks about: we all secretly hate you actual good singers who get up there all serious and belt out "Amazing Grace." (Yes, Parisa from Real World: Sydney, I mean you.Love ya, but come on.) Simon tries to let her down easy, saying maybe joining a band is a better avenue for her, though Alexis says she's never been all that comfortable around other people. She exits the room rather meekly, then proceeds to go on an extended social-anxiety-driven freakout out in the hallway (and beyond) about how Simon's a smug prick (possibly true) who was mean to her (not at all true), and how they can all go fuck themselves because now she's going to be an actress (even less true than the Simon thing). Hard to imagine this girl's never been able to make it happen with a band. She gets really excited about flipping the bird to the camera and generally makes an ass out of herself while simultaneously guaranteeing herself a featured spot in this very episode. Congrats, hon. In the best part of this whole episode, Simon's back in the audition room, asking someone offscreen who played the villain in the first Spider-Man. "Willem Dafoe," he's told, and Paula nearly spits out her 180-proof "soda" when Simon says that's who Alexis looks like. There was one genuine moment in that entire segment, and that was it.
A Montage O' Families brings us to Angela Martin, who looks spookily like that crazy asshole Monique from that one season of Top Model. Angela's not a crazy's asshole, though. She's a single mom whose daughter has Rett's Syndrome. Angela's giant network of family and friends are all here to support her, and everyone has a good cry about it before the audition. Inside, she does the best thing ever when Simon asks her to tell them something about her and she talks about singing in a wedding band rather than leading with her hard luck story. I like her. And it's a damn good thing I do, because in quick succession Angela a) sings Stevie Wonder ("Signed, Sealed, Delivered"), and b) name-checks Simon. Sweetie, no. Simon tells her she's going to need to break some bad habits, mostly needy crowd-baiting bullshit endemic to wedding bands, but she's unanimously put through to Hollywood. Outside, Team Angela goes crazy. Inside, Simon is bewildered by the concept of being happy for other people. Which he blames on his being British rather than being a self-conscious grump.
Alyse Wojciechowski dances like a spazz (Ryan likens her to Taylor Hicks, because he's mean) and sings that infernal Bublé version of "Feelin' Good" that I have already exhausted myself by railing against so whatever. Alyse screams her way through her audition, with Simon comparing it to a nightmare he had last night. She's out, and so are a couple other tone-deaf screamers.
Milo Turk is another old person trying to be weird enough to get on TV. Milo looks so exactly like Dr. Tobias Funke, Analrapist that it takes the fun out of making the comparison. It's like, "Hey, you know who you look like in that Dracula costume? Dracula." He could have rescued it by finding a blonde and a kid and making it a group audition for the All-Natural Good Time Family Band Solution, but alas. He writes his own songs, as if this couldn't get any better, and the one he performs is called "No Sex Allowed." It's funny, see, because he's ugly. Paula and Randy humor him, but Simon's over him almost immediately, and you know who I side with. His song did end with the lyric, "And if you don't like it, get outta town!" which reminded me of my very favorite Buffalo Bills general manager and a famous press conference meltdownn he had where he ended up screaming that very line to the Buffalo sports media. Dude, if my dad read these recaps he'd be all over that one.
Kristy Lee Cook lives in a log cabin, kickboxes, and sold her horse to make the trip to Philadelphia (from Oregon). She also looks like a model, which means half of the population is going to fetishize her for the first two and the other half will excoriate her for the last one. Inside with the judges, she says she also "cage fights," which leads Randy and Simon to ask if she means, like, in Jello. She kind of adorably looks at them like, "Don't be gross," which I dug. She sings "Amazing Grace" with some country twang, and it's pretty, though I admit I've lost the ability to judge one's singing ability from that song. Too overdone. But I think Kristy might have the stuff. The judges enthusiastically put her through, with Simon encouraging a bit more confidence.
Two freak auditions can be grouped under the same Star Wars banner, but we won't get to the second one for a bit yet. Benjamin Harr walks in wearing a Jedi cape and flings it off to reveal Princess Leia's bronze bikini. Dude, that is so played out! It's 2008, for fuck's sake. Work some Battlestar into the routine, shit. Simon wants to know what the hell this is supposed to accomplish, and Ben kind of sweetly begs for them all to find it funny. "Sweetly" because his face looks pretty angelic, but honestly? If you're begging for it? I have lost all respect for you. Yes, I say, I have lost all respect for the guy wearing the bronze Princess Leia bikini. Paula and Randy tell him to go shave off his chest hair and come back. Because they are, in the end, bigger jerks than Simon and they always have been.
Another Montage O' Suck includes that tranny hooker from earlier. She may, in fact, be a woman, but she was maybe raised by tranny hookers. The point of this particular montage, however, is the potty-mouthed tendencies of the Philadelphia populace, exemplified by Paul Marturano, who stares creepily and intensely at Paula while he sings some song about stalking women. It goes from creepy to funny and back about six different times before Simon finally has security escort him out.
Then, in one of the strangest transitions this show has ever attempted -- and they've attempted plenty -- we segue from that Paula stalker to a woman named Beth Stalker. Slow clap for American Idol, y'all. Beth is herself being stalked by her top-of-the-head ponytail and the responsibilities of motherhood. We see her cute little daughter doing the drunken baby walk while we learn that Beth recorded an album of church songs when she was four (called Little Liz: Jesus Loves Me...oh my God, you guys). Okay, who brought the ringer? I thought this competition was for amateurs. Singing "Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered," one of the hands-down prettiest songs from antiquity, a couple of things become apparent: one is that she can sing very well, with a clear, mature voice that's confident enough to stand on its own without accoutrements. The other thing, however, is that Simon is totally not sold. I figured it'd be because she sounds so old-fashioned (it's not just the song -- her voice is very much a throwback), but he says it's because she won't stand out in a crowd. Randy and Paula vote Beth on to Hollywood where she'll have a chance to prove otherwise, and I certainly hope she will.
Before we cut to commercials, we see Ben Harr getting his chest waxed. Jesus. As one of the posters said last night, the fact that he doesn't recycle the "KELLY CLARKSON!" line from The 40-Year-Old Virgin makes this entire segment a waste. And so when we return from the break, Ben comes back before the judges with his newly hairless chest underneath the bikini and...dude, it is so much worse. I don't have any hangups about dudes waxing, but the entire effect here is very disturbing. It's like if you put Kevin Smith's head atop Nikki Blonsky's body and then shoved it into a fetish costume. Yikes. And he sings "Don't Cha," the official anthem of freako Idol auditioners everywhere. Ben seems like a decent guy who's just doing this for a laugh, and I really hope whatever frat he's pledging lets him in, but I just can't. He gets three words of the song out before Simon and Randy give him the bounce. Simon still manages to sell his bewilderment at American camera-whoring after all these years, musing, "All because that fat lump wanted to be on TV." Leave Perez out of this, Cowell.
Chris Watson has the disadvantage of being tall, gorgeous, and talented, the poor guy. I can't even hold the fact that he sings Uncle Kracker against him. He's got a smooth R&B voice that doesn't bore me, and he looks like what would happen if any of the Marley family cleaned up and went on a job interview. Simon loves him, and he's through to Hollywood.
Okay, here's the other Star Wars freak. Christina Talisano has the Princess Leia buns, a Star Wars logo belt, and she does the wookie voice for the camera. Dude, hot. She looks like Missi Pyle in Dodgeball. She interviews that it's either international fame and fortune as a singing star or a job in corrections back in her Connecticut hometown. The show lingers on her geek bona fides for a while, which is boring, because it's all stuff we've heard before: conventions and Romulans and nerf herders. What sucks is that she seems like a decently okay girl, obsessed with a thing, sure, but an agreeable sort, but you know that's all going to collapse into a heap of bullshit after she auditions. And it's my absolute least favorite brand of audition, where she's not good enough to be a singer but not bad enough not to have fooled herself into thinking she can. These are the ones where hearts get broken. She tries to sell herself on her "goofball" personality, but it's "no" votes across the board. She takes it well enough (and avoids other-dooring herself) until she's out in the hall with Seacrest and her grandparents, at which point she f-bombs her way through an "it's hard out here for a dork" rationale. I want to feel for the girl, but she treads far too close to "I guess I was just too real for them" for me to truly get onboard. Still, could have been worse. And her grandparents were lovely people, trying their best to keep her from saying "fuck" on TV.
Brooke White enters the audition room while Christina is still ranting outside. I guess we're supposed to be struck by how Brooke is the embodiment of everything Christina's pissed about: "pretty" girls who get treated better than dorks with hair earmuffs. And I guess that might be true if Brooke didn't look like she'd just spent a week camping out in a dumpster full of Shakira's hair extensions. Anyway, she works as a nanny for twin year-old girls, who apparently don't get freaked out that they're being cared for by Natasha Lyonne's doppelganger. She talks to the judges about her clean living lifestyle: no drugs, no alcohol, no R-rated movies. She even managed to marry a goody-two-shoes just like her. Normally, I wouldn't cotton to such a person (no R-rated movies, for serious?), but Brooke isn't preaching and she seems to realize that she's kind of a square and is cool with that. She sings come Corrine Bailey Rae (aaaah! Antonella flashbacks! Antonella flashbacks!), and she's decent, if not spectacular. The judges like her, and Simon of course wants to bring her to Hollywood and turn her into a vulgar old cynic like him, so she's moving on. She gets the night's only "other door" (the sneaky devils in production managed to lock the right-hand door this time around, I love it), then gets welcomed to "the dark side" by Ryan. Boy, I'll say.
Twenty-nine people to Hollywood via Philadelphia, and Christina Talisano thinks they're all conformists. She voices-over her bitter feelings about how everyone who got golden tickets looks the same and acts the same and fits into the same pop mold, all the while we're seeing clips of the people headed to Hollywood. It comes across, hilariously enough, like some slow-mo tribute to conformity and sameness. And for an audition episode that was pretty much a carbon copy of every audition episode I've ever seen, that's a fitting enough way to sign off for tonight.