AI used to be the best at manipulation. They could teach MI-6 spies and Mossad assassins some things about ratcheting up the tension to the point where the pain is excruciating. Masters of faking the funk. But oh, Kittens, this cupboard is bare and aren't we all way worse off than poor Ol' Mother Hubbard's dog now? What little suspense there was in this first results show episode flew right out the window once our He-Man Oilman, Michael Sarver (Nee Jeremy and sweet vindication for your humble blogger, yes!) put his well worn boot all up in sweet Anouk's ass. Never underestimate the redneck vote, noodles. And then all we were left with was hours and hours of filler and bad singing and frikkin' Michael Johns and his sweaty face and too tight jacket and Carly and her continuing desperate desire to be a star at all costs and her ratty weave. (Hey, she brought it up - with an extra helping of racist. I hope Asian people just roll up on her in the street and randomly beat the crap out of her) And Tatiana kind of awesomely refusing to have a psychotic break as Ryan poked and prodded in the gaping cracks in her sanity. And Gokey working my every last nerve with his white Gazel's and his irritating friends holding up pictures of his still dead wife and . . . oh my lord, how I loathed this episode, darlings. Almost more than I can articulate.
Did we really need the sing ins? The only reason the sing outs work at all is that you get crazy contestants on the verge and you never know what they'll do. Remember Leslie Hunt's "America don't care for jazz?" Good times. But these sing ins are pointless. They can only be a pale copy of the original. Witness tonight. Sing outs work because all the pressure is off and even the worst contestants can just have fun and go full throttle. Who gives a damn? They're done. But the poor noodles tonight had to justify their newly minted position in the Top 12, and it got the best of them, most awfully of He-Man Oilman who managed to somehow be worse than the night before.
Did we really need to bring back two of the most underachieving, charisma free contestants from S7? Kiddies, you know that I am in general against anyone but the contestants performing on AI, especially this early in the season, but I will admit that this has sometimes worked. J-hud coming back and destroying I Am Changing. Carrie blowing the doors off George Michael's Praying for Time and making me like that mindless drivel. A nearly deranged, red clad 'Tasia. Clay meeting his succubus doppelClay. But more often than not, it's Kat McPhee and a piano and a "Dear god, why?" Tonight was no exception. What those two did to The Letter was not of the lord.
Did we really need to recap all the judges comments for every single contestant? We watched the show, show, and we don't have short term memory loss. And really, did Randy and Judge #4 even say anything that was remotely interesting? Really? In fact, all the judge banter tonight was weaksauce. (Although the Simon/Ryan was of rare vintage) Please less time repeating what these fools just said 24 hours ago. It wasn't that riveting the first time.
There were things to like this epsiode, as always. The return of the Pointy Pose Group Sing! Oh, how I've missed you! It reassures me, noodles, that the group sing lives on to murder songs in new and different, Up With People-y ways. Can't wait 'til it's joined by the Ford pimpmercial. Alexis made it through. And even though I call huge bullshit on how it went down, I got to keep my He-Man Oilman and I have every confidence that Anoop "missed by that much" Desai will breeze through the Wildcard Round and take his rightful place among the Top 12. Gokey got through, which I'd be much more pleased about if the show wasn't doing all it could to try to kill whatever affection his beautiful voice continues to stir in me. Fucking picture of the dead wife. Massive party foul, kittens. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. And Tati still rocking the P-Dawg jewelry and refusing to break until almost the very end. I haven't been a fan, but that kicked tremendous amounts of boot-ay especially after the show went out of it's way to egregiously dick her around from the jump. Having said that, when she gets put through to the Wildcard round, I wholeheartedly reserve the right to go back to hating her intensely.
And what else was there to like? Well, there was the exposure of Jackie Tohn as a massive tool. Nah, not that. What about the continued whiny bitchassness of the 16 year old moonface cow shirt? Even though she did kind of single handedly turn it out in that train wreck of a group sing and was the first and maybe only person to hug Tati of her own accord after she was eliminated, it's not that either. Stephen Fowler and his sweaty hands, which were clearly the result of not wanting to be outed as a total pot head? Nope. How about Anouk being completely adorable bantering with Seacrest? Well, that's just bittersweet now, isn't it? No, kiddies, I am forced to concede that we got about 58 minutes of crap and commercials (One and the same? Discuss) and about two minutes of actually suspenseful reality teevee drama (Sarver v. Desai). Can I get my hour back?
Oh well, onward and upward. Next week, the only folks I care about are Jasmine and Adam "Mr. Wicked" Lambert. Which of course means that it will be chock full of standout perfromances. Nick/Norman Mitchell Gentle and Dueling Pianos boy and tattoo sleeved Lady Day wannabe. Fasten your seatbelts, noodles, it's going to be a bumpy (Wednesday!) night.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment