These little moviolas they do at the beginning of the elimination episodes are so fascinating. It's like the hardest mandate, because you're having to make a little featurette about how this is simultaneously a funeral and a football game, and they're really doing it up this year with the sad music and gritty backstage footage. Well done. I feel like this is going to take one million years, even more than usual, because of the whole double-eliminating thing. Ryan will find a way to dick it right around.
Man, Elton John brings up a lot of childhood stuff, doesn't he? That was crazy last night. And then coincidentally tonight I saw the tour of the revival of West Side Story that closed in January, and it was so good!
Besides Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar, Anita is probably my favorite person in all of musicals. She's totally bad-ass, she's a composite of the three best characters in Romeo & Juliet, and she's also from the future, like, she's like the only person in the entire play that gets it, so when shit falls apart it's mostly just sad because she was right the whole time, and it just didn't matter. It's like Battlestar Galactica with those guys. Everybody was crying throughout the whole second act, it was wild.
And the dancing! I felt really lucky to be seeing that dancing. Jerome Robbins, you're totally forgiven for the whole HUAC-collaboration thing.
Seems like instead of just having one person sing for the save, they're going to fill the hour by having the kids sing songs before they head to the B3. I like that idea, actually. It's nice to have songs happening and then things, and then songs again. Better than having to deal with will.i.am and Fantasia without our backup.
ROUND ABOUT MIDNIGHT AT THE CAFÉ CRACKER BARREL
First duet is Lauren and Scotty, a song called "I Told You So" which given the two of them, will be country. But it's not totally annoying country, it's like Olivia Newton-John, Garth Brooks country. Scotty is totally smirky annoying-face the whole time, but Lauren manages to class up the joint enough that you can focus on the pretty song. Ryan pulls those two little chumps up to the Seal and we remember Lauren's "Candle In The Wind," which was beloved for all the right reasons, and Scotty's pandering BS. Then they are both safe -- I told you so, as the old song goes -- because that's who watches this show now.
They do some kind of impenetrable L O S T crap where you have to log in to a website while Shazamming your phone while watching the Focus ad. The song itself is that trashy song about being your Superman, and Casey and Naima are superheroes doing all manner of moody stuff. Dumb.
Ryan looks nice. Not as nice as he looked last night, which was the best he's looked all year, but let's not be ridiculous: It's Ryan. It's still of note. He gives Casey shit about not shaving the beard entirely, but let's not even talk about that possibility. Then we discuss fan mail, specifically a fan mail that Durbin received recently, which is a custom-made... Some kind of wrestling thing, like a belt with a thing inside of that spins. I don't approve, we won't discuss it further.
We're already watching wrestling.
ALL OF MY SYSTEMS ARE DOWN, DOWN DOWN DOWN
Naima and Jacob, that should be weird. They live on different planets. Maybe she will try to turn into the grandmother from The Cosby Show and that will be her fascinating ethnicity this time. The song is "Solid As A Rock," which is kinda like a song. But then, one thing neither of them have ever actually required for their particular swag is a song. They would just set it on fire or do a crazy dance on it or something anyway, so the fact that it's a fairly useless song to begin with can only help.
I keep having flashbacks to last night, when J. Lo told her to eat 100 dicks without ever saying one mean word. That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
Thanks to Lizz, who sent me the video of Naima's performance I missed last week. With the African dance breakdown? I wasn't planning on watching any of them, but in retrospect that would have been a mistake. It was the best thing I'd seen since... Naima's performance last night. The girl is just completely out of control, isn't she?
One of them is safe, one of them is B3. Who on earth will it be? Lusk, who is actually cognizant of the fact that he is on a show called American Idol? Or Naima, who seems to be laboring under the impression that she has won a grant.
There are in no way enough goddamn Pointer Sisters songs on this show. I mention this only because last night I said, "Nobody's singing 'Your Song,' why?" and then, of all people, Casey sang that song. My song. My song "Your Song."
So if I point out that we don't hear enough Pointer Sisters, maybe we will get some Pointer Sisters. Maybe "Jamie Foxx and will.i.am" will turn out to be code for "Ryan Reynolds going to town on a Pointer Sisters song and then doing some pushups," or something.
OR EVEN JUST RYAN REYNOLDS GOING TO TOWN ON SOME PUSHUPS
So what Ryan says after the break is, Fantasia is about to sing a song called "Collard Greens & Cornbread."
I don't... What?
Her dress is shiny and red and her voice is squeaky and weird and her hair is blonde, in a pretty retro bouffant with nothing backing it up, I mean, she looks like the Yellow Kid from behind. I don't feel qualified to remark upon the song, which is very pretty and dramatic, but it's like... You could name a song anything, you could write this song about anything. It certainly is not required that you repeat the title one hundred times until it doesn't mean anything. And also now I am hungry.
But if this is what Fantasia is up to these days, I am in full support because it's the best and least ass-crazy thing I've ever seen her do. It feels like it's part of a tradition, and not just a failed attempt to do something that turned into something else that was weird. I just look at her and I think, "What was going on with America that year?" Every time.
She's very unique. Very novel. I just... We all agree on something each year, with this show. And that year, it was Fantasia. Maybe the competition was bad or something weird happened or it was rigged or they told a great story about her and did some kind of Frank Luntz narrative magic on us? I wasn't there, possibly it made sense, presumably it made sense. But I just can't imagine that of all the people in the show, Fantasia was the one that people had no qualms about. Qualmless.
And I mean no disrespect to her, it's more of a problem I'm having with like, time and space, and how context is everything. Poodle skirts made sense, everybody was like, "Yes, I'll take a poodle skirt. Thank you so much." Daryl Hannah, she made sense at one time, possibly there were cranks and nay-sayers but they were outliers, generally the people were like, "For sure, put her in my movie, thanks." American Gladiators, sure, trickledown theory absolutely, Geo Metro please. Those things happened, and we survived. And so did Fantasia, and so did Fantasia.
She gives them great advice about staying the fuck away from Yes People, in a sort of overflowing crazy-talk way, but see here's the thing: I thought it was Yes Men that killed Michael Jackson, because they lived inside his economy and were scared to lose their jobs. But we found out this morning that it was not poor management and scum-sucking opportunists that killed Michael Jackson -- starting at age five -- but was, in fact, James Durbin. Have you heard about this? It's like the whole Black Swan ballet controversy, in that it makes us all look bad and nobody look good and is just basically bitching for no reason whatsoever except to get attention and/or money.
Yeah, so basically Joe Jackson was worried that when he gets to Hell, he might have to wait, so he's spending the extra miles now so he doesn't have to waste time checking in then. VIP Express Pass. No time for hoi polloi. So he threw this fucking stink about how Durbin defaced the memory. James Durbin, a person who literally cannot. He's gonna have to run toward it with that Flintstones pinwheel of legs before he does it, whatever it is, and then he will do it flawlessly, but not on the fly. Certainly not with the dexterity and gazelle grace of a Ryan Seacrest.
And yeah: Too soon? You betcha. Durbin's cute and he has no saving throw whatsoever, so he gets graded on a curve, that's not my issue: My issue is first that Joe Jackson deserves absolutely never to have his son's name come out of his mouth, and more importantly: Half of me thinks that Ryan's stark terror during last night's Pepsi moment was because it was too soon, and the other half honestly thinks that it was just because Durbin said "Pepsi" on the show.
And all of me thinks it was equal parts both, just instantaneously reacting to both problems, because that is exactly why I love him more than anyone on this earth.
SEEYA, THIA
Thia Megia and Pia, plus Haley who is obviously safe and will make Top Four at least based on last night alone; just for tonight, we're changing your name to Hia. The three ladies sing "Teenage Dream," a song with which I have zero problem. I actually like this last Katy Perry album. I can get my mind off where it comes from like with just the slightest bit of mental discipline, just like with sausage.
There's a disturbing lack of Darren Criss. Actually, there's a disturbing lack of anything going on with this song at all. For a song that is awesome, that sure wasn't that awesome. I thought they were laying off the karaoke backups this year but that was just flaccid. How hard is it to make that song boring?
Pia would not let your sun go down on her, Thia did "Daniel," and Haley -- the crowd by the way goes nuts when Ryan brings her forward -- blew "Bennie & the Jets" out of the water, then they just recently let you put your hands on them in their skin-tight jeans. Pia's safe, duh, and then Thia is clearly B3 out of the other two. Just send her home, you guys. It is a drag when she sings. For her, for us, for everybody.
I can't help but imagine Jacob Lusk holding down the low end on "Teenage Dream." That would have been amazing.
OKAY NOW IMAGINE BRETT LOWENSTERN DOING IT
Kris Allen is in the audience, but not even his sweet little smile can cheer up old Thia, bored Lauren who wasn't alive yet back then and has no idea, and Naima's fifty pounds sterling of total bitchface. I mean, I think we're clear on how you end up with a Naima in the first place: Self-esteem to the nuclear degree. And so of course when things don't go her way, what, she's going to suddenly get reality? Like a transfusion of reality? No way at all.
She's still standing, mon.
Let's talk about how they spent their weekend. Have you noticed that Stefano got super hot sometime in the last two weeks? Maybe that's what they're going to explain. I for one would like an explanation because I feel weird about it.
But no, instead they went to watch Muhammad Ali with Reba McEntire and Kelly Clarkson. The things that rich people get up to, I don't understand it. And then they all sang at the Muhammad Ali, who had no idea what was going on because his job for the last hundred years is getting the brains beat out of his head. It's all very confusing. I know less about what they did this weekend than I did before.
It's leaking in the mansion, so they all had to pack up and leave that particular Season Ten weird idea that never saw fruition. Lauren goes flying down the stairs on her ass and some pretty producer lady is just like, "Oh, Lauren. Another day for you, my dear." Naima is pissed about leaving the mansion, but sweetie that was going to happen anyway. You're still standing. Unlike Lauren.
They get all gussied up and then suddenly it's Tuesday, and Marc Anthony is there looking like the angel of death as usual, and then it's Wednesday... What are we even doing? Then we watch the African dancing, so suddenly it's last week, and then Casey barfs or whatever, still not watching it, and they rush him away to give him blood or a new stomach or whatever went down, and he has a teenage freakout, and we watch it for a million years, and then he's reunited with his fellow Idols.
Casey and Jacob share a tender moment.
Cellar door that's going to be the caption on every Facebook photo I have, someday soon.
MARK MY WORDS
You know that thing on Netflix that is so accusatory with the palms-out jazzhands, that says, "Your taste preferences created this row. Not our fault." It's always pretty revealing, I think, as I've come to grilling people about it on the regular. Mine this week are: "Controversial Dysfunctional-Family TV Comedies," and "Mind-Bending Mother-Daughter Dramas." The first one: I get. But then, what? How is that a thing?
I can't think of one "mind-bending mother-daughter drama" in the world, besides Black Swan, and Netflix doesn't know about my love for that movie yet. Or Tangled, which qualifies I suppose, since it's Black Swan for kids, but still: That is barely out on DVD, too. Plus, of the seven movies it offers in this category, I have never heard of a one. So how did it know? Do I like mind-bending, mother-daughter, and drama things separately so they put them together for me? The algorithm escapes me. It's proprietary.
Anyway. Beatles medley, courtesy of the band the boys have created. It's unpleasant in all ways simultaneously and I don't want to talk about it. Bleep-bloop.
Casey: Safe.
Please be Paul, please be Paul.
James: Safe.
Paul Paul Paul.
Stefano or Paul? Stefano, you sang "Tiny Dancer" and it was super sweet. Paul, you have a demon eating you from the inside out.
paulpaulpaulpaulpaulpaul
America, you rule sometimes.
...PAUL.
Stefano heads back to the couches, but first we have to wait to see what Jamie Foxx thinks he's doing these days. Maybe we... Should we watch it, even? Can it even be good? Remember last time when he just talked into that autotune machine and stomped around the whole time? That was so, so stupid. Well, maybe he will outdo himself this week. Let's see.
Although in some ways this makes it worse, because if Paul is in the Bottom Three and doesn't go home to the grossery store, then we have to worry about week's backlash and all the sick people that live under bridges and swamps coming out to vote for... Wait, no. No, you guys, this is too good: Double Elimination.
It seems unreal that we could lose Paul and Thia and keep Naima. On any given day maybe you get laid, or win the lottery, or find out you're related to Swoozie Kurtz, but the likelihood of all three of those things happening -- in the space of ten minutes -- that's just ridiculous. And it's not really like there's a downside here, anyway. I mean, we'll all miss Naima, but there would be nothing shocking about her leaving. Just a bummer of comedy.
WILL.I.WONT.I
Out comes an entire Cirque worth of people dancing around. It looks like that one thing at the hair show in Good Hair, the tiny little Brittenum one, with the marching band and all that stuff. Remember? It's like that. These are the entire lyrics of the song:
I wanna party
I wanna sambaI wanna party
I wanna sambaI wanna party
I wanna samba
How fucking dare you. Yo Gabba Gabba for grownups. It's embarrassing. It's shameful on every level, what people are getting away with these days. It's actually stupider than if Fergie and the other ones were there. Jamie Foxx managed to bring will.i.am down.
Jamie Foxx, who did nothing the entire time but stand there while this American tragedy went down: "It's about family, man."
How very fucking dare you. I wish Cee-Lo would come over here right now, stand on a chair or stool, and punch you in both your faces. At least fuckin' Naima is trying. And I know you're wondering, was Jamie Foxx wearing sunglasses indoors?
Let me ask you a question: Do you honestly think there is a time where he doesn't?
FARAWAY SO CLOSE
Naima, Thia Megia, and Paul. Who is safe? PAUL. America, come on. What does he need to pull in order to demonstrate the problem here? Actually take a bite out of a baby? Make a Michael Jackson rape joke? Pull Ryan Seacrest's hair? Crack on David Cook? Tear up a picture of Liz Lemon? I can see him doing all those things. He has done all those things.
Thia Megia clambers up with a little help onto a pink pony, raises her plastic sword high, and calls out Excelsior! before riding at a full gallop onto the Rainbow Bridge. "I can see my hamster from second grade!" is the last thing we hear her say. Poor thing just passed away a few months ago. She named him Chia, because his hair stuck out in clumps. She loved him. She will see him again.
Naima, though, she is not taking this lying down. Because she is still standing.
Standing strong, surviving, even as her dreams shrivel like a raisin in the sun, Naima beckons us all close. Closer still, don't be shy. Her beaded necklaces knock together with the sound of wood and history. "I am a bitch," she says, and we gasp, but she just shakes her head, smiling softly. In the hush, even Steven Tyler stops talking about himself for a sec. "I'm a lover." I see you nodding; she sees it too, and wrinkles her nose in approval. "I'm a child, I'm a mother. I'm a sinner, and a saint. And I will not be ashamed. But first, I have to tell you a secret."
Curious now, knees going numb, we lean in. The smell of bodega spices and Caribbean breezes; the sound of her wings. She closes her eyes a moment, nodding sagely. Can she tell the truth? Can we bear to hear it?
she asks herself/ herself answers.
From deep within, with a deep knowing, barely above a whisper, Naima says, "Natalie Portman only did 80 percent of the dancing shots in Black Swan."
But we know what she really means.