American Idol 1/24/07 New York Auditions
Crazy Little Thing Called...Crazy
by Frank PittareseWe open on Seacrest, standing amidst a small crowd of fans in the thick of Times Square, no doubt lured over from MTV's Total Request Live with empty promises. Or, from the looks of them, Live With Regis & Kelly. "We haven't been to New York since Season Three," he tells us, "And we've never found a winner from this area. But all that could change as America's biggest show hits America's biggest city...this is American Idol." Credits.
Quick New York montage. It's a thriving Metropolis, where people come to fulfill their dreams to get caught in a web of drugs and prostitution. This year, they've come for a shot at superstardom...before getting caught in a web of drugs and prostitution. Crowds roar as they line up outside what is sometimes Meadowlands Arena--which is in New Jersey, by the way, you manipulative, lying show--and sometimes Chelsea Piers, which is in New York City and within walking distance from all the bars Ryan hopes to visit when he turns 21.
Various fools guess at the turnout today, and the counts range from 5,000 to a million. The judges arrive, Simon talking on two phones at once so we know what a busy fellow he is. Special-guest judge Carol Bayer Sager steps out of a limo wearing Joan Collins' wig from the Dynasty collection, as poor Joan sits in the back seat, bald-headed and fuming.
CBS (because I am not typing that 500 times tonight) is a "legendary songwriter." I'm pretty sure she's not legendary. Bigfoot is legendary. The Loch Ness Monster is legendary. CBS is standing right there, waiting to bitch-slap Linda Evans, and I'm pretty sure she's a real person. Regardless, she used to be married to Burt Bacharach and has written such hits as Don't Cry Out Loud, A Groovy Kind of Love, and...the theme from Icecastles. There's a selling point if ever I heard one. Oscar/Grammy/Golden Globe winner, blah-de-blah.
At judging, she sits between Randy and Simon. Paula, booted from her usual seat, plops down at the far left and baby-whines that she wants to sit next to Carol, but nobody pays her any mind. They know if they wait ten minutes, this whole episode will become part of Paula's ongoing series of blackouts.
Outside, a bizarre creature approaches. He's wearing a blue t-shirt with his name on it, a long scarf, a chinchilla wrap over the scarf, and a black headband. Getting to the point, he looks like a refugee pinhead from Todd Browning's Freaks--gone drag. This person, Ian Benardo, sashays on screen with much fake fanfare. Seacrest interviews him, providing the viewers with the news that Ian has been on TV before, when he was bounced from the So You Think You Can Dance auditions, after which he pitched an expletive-filled tit-fit at the British judge for daring to, um, judge him.
In The Fake Clip Reel of Forever, super-effeminate Ian accosts people on the street, telling him he's the next American Idol, asking people how they've been as they try to dodge him, and being a general nuisance. "Every time I walk outside, people know I'm a superstar," Ian says. He blithers on about how, after he wins, we'll forget Carrie Underwood, Fantasia, and Taylor Hicks. I'll buy that last one.
Before the judges, Ian, 25, cawfee-talks his way through some questions. Why are you here? "I'm here to be the next American Idol. I thawt that it would be a nice addition to my awready lawng and impressive resume." Which is? "Superstar, dancer, singer, and (randomly indicating his wrap) this is chinchilla and I'm wearing it specifically to show the world how wealthy I can be."
Then Ian and Simon debate whether or not Ian actually is a superstar. Ian insists that he is. "You can ask my family, you can ask my friend, you can ask one of my therapists." How many therapists does he have? "Two." Ian sings/recites poor dead Laura Branigan's Gloria at a mile a minute and, at this point, in full-tilt Mike-Myers-as-Linda-Richman mode. It's a joke. This guy just wants to be on TV. Right?
"I don't even know what to say," Randy says.
Ian smiles, looking somewhat sincere. "Thank you." Okay, then.
Randy wants to know if Ian is real, and Ian pinches himself to prove it. Simon, though, calls him out on his b.s., telling him "it's just rubbish." Ian starts a shouting match. He wants to see Simon's work Visa. It goes on. Simon has a security guard escort the little homonculous out the door. Ian departs the room with an exhasperated "F**k you!"
He carries on for Seacrest, but we're only ten minutes into the show, and I have two episodes of transgender fun on All My Children to watch before the night is over, so I'm cutting Ian's crazy ass off.
Lord. Enter Sarah Burgess, our first Sob Story of the evening. Pretty girl. Cute little nose. Looks about 16. Her parents don't know she's here auditioning and they don't want her here. She snuck to New York from Ohio. This means that much to her. She starts crying. Her dad doesn't believe in her. She just wants him to be proud of her. Tears galore.
Here's the twist. Sarah is 19. A legal adult. Honey, if your parents don't want you to audition, move the hell out of your house. Don't come crying at me in extreme close-up when all I wanna do is watch the freak parade.
At judging, Sarah jumps into a big pile of bullshit, as she scrunches up her face and tells the judges that her parents don't want her to be a singer. She might as well hold up a sign that says "pity me," because...wow...she is faker than fake. The girl can cry on cue, bless her for that, but it's all a manipulation on her part and anyone with two eyes can see it. Except the judges. They sympathetically "awwww..." as Sarah talks about her dad. Then she sings Call Me, sounding perfectly adequate. Good, even. She really didn't need the daddy-hates-me routine. But her scam works. The judges like her and put her through to Hollywood.
Outside, Seacrest has Sarah call her father, where she explains that she's not sleeping at friend's house, as she claims she told him, but instead has come to New York to audition for Idol and has made it to Hollywood. You'd expect Evil Dad to react with some degree of anger. But no. "You're going to Hollywood? That's great!" Guess he didn't read the script Sarah left on the kitchen table. Still, the show plays us out with some mood music. Hollywood heals all wounds. Ugh. I want this girl bounced in the worst way. Begone, Sarah Burgess.
After the break, we meet Fania Maria Tsakalalos, 27. She's Greek, but lives in New Jersey. Some time ago, while in Greece, she was "asked to do" their version of American Idol. Instead, she ended up doing "background dancing" for their concerts. Fania sings Toto's Africa. She's absolutely tone deaf and dances like she's stomping grapes. No to Hollywood.
Ashanti Johnson, 28, has auditioned for Idol before and has made it to Hollywood twice. "I'm better now," she tells Seacrest, then talks to the judges about her healthy diet and lifestyle before singing Lovin' You by the late, great Minnie Riperton. By no means does Ashanti have Minnie's five-octave range, and making matters worse, she makes some butt-faces while performing. The judges aren't impressed. "Did you want to see more energy?" she asks. No. "Did I engage you?" Pass. "Let me sing something up tempo." No. "You don't understand. How was my intonation? How was my timing? How was my pitch?"
Seacrest pops up, telling us to prepare ourselves, because "these are the Days of Our Idols," and seriously, Ashanti launches into a ten-page monologue straight from The Young and the Restless about how she knows, in the depths of her soul, if America saw her, they'd love her. On and on. Then more uninvited singing. Nobody wants to hear it. "It was a pleasure to meet you," she says...but still begs more before leaving. "Get over it," Cowell says. Seriously.
Next we meet Amanda Coluccio and Antonella Barba, both 19. BFFs from New Jersey. They've known each other since eighth grade, and we see them at the beach and shopping and being girls together. They finish each other's sentences and manage to wear out their welcome within about 45 seconds. They think it would be great it the American Idol were two people this year. I agree, if it was like Niki and Jessica on Heroes. One could sing and the other could tear people in half.
Amanda is first, but the judges ask her to invite Antonella in, too. They side-by-side their entire case history, each saying the other is the better singer, till one succeeds and they hate each other for the rest of their lives. They sing a duet that's all over the place. Pretty don't equal talent, ladies.
So Amanda finally auditions, solo, with Antonella watching on the sidelines. Her choice is Patsy Cline's Crazy. She sounds completely generic and makes sexy-face at the judges. Kinda dull. But while pretty doesn't equal talent, it often equals Hollywood. Paula, Randy, and CBS vote her through. Simon is indifferent.
Tears of joy as Amanda rushes into the hall to celebrate with her family, leaving Antonella in the dust. Hah! It begins! Antonella, without her BFF's support, sings Chante Moore's Free. She, too, is rather bland, and without the other Wondertwin is completely devoid of personality. But the judges like her better than Amanda (so suck it Amanda--that's what you get for ditching your pal!). Antonella is through to Hollywood with Simon's showbiz advice: "When someone's down on the floor, kick them."
As the girls share notes, Seacrest wonders how long the girl's friendship will last in Hollywood. "Keep watching..." he intones. And I hope, hope, hope the inevitable friendship implosion happens on TV!
Post-commerical with meet Clifton Bittle, 24. Kinda cute, but kinda dumb-looking. We find him playing the harmonica outside Chelsea Piers. Clifton has lifelike GI Joe hair. Fuzzy! He comes from Newcastle, Delaware, and "likes to be the center of attention." Without warning, he's going "beep-boop" and talking like a robot. Huh?!? For the judges, he sings ZZ Top's Tush, stomping one foot on the ground like he's pumping...um...something that pumps. He shouts more than sings. He claps his hands. And when asked to do something else, he breaks out the mouth organ and plays. That's four nos for Clifton.
Montage of Bad Male Singers. Shouting guy. Man in astronaut suit. Howler with blue hair. Lesbian Boy. Then we meet the last contestant of Day One, a girl.
Kia Thornton, 27, sings Ain't No Way by Aretha Franklin. She's a little breathy, and sounds okay, but at this point the whole Jennifer Hudson/Dreamgirls style is so...expected, that it's difficult to get excited about it. If they're looking for somebody unique, this is exactly the sort of auditioneer that I wouldn't put through. But I'm just some geek in Brooklyn, and nobody's asking me. CBS does tell her not to oversing things, for which I'm grateful. Kia is going to Hollywood, with much judge-love.
Day Two in New York. The judges arrive--but where's Simon? Seacrest tells us that had a "singing hangover" and will arrive later. That leaves Paula, Randy, and CBS to steer this ship of fools.
Jenry Bejarano is 16 years old and looks like a hunky 22-year-old. We get his backstory. Adopted into a Bolivian household as an infant. He's close with his mother. Mom praises him. She pushed him into auditioning, and even came along to the Meadowlands/Chelsea Piers. Nice personality on this kid. He sings Gerald LeVert's I'd Give Anything to Fall in Love.
Jenry has a booming, masculine voice. Very pleasant. Paula smiles and goes "Mmmm..." because she's thinking dirty thoughts. She likes the texture of his voice and says he's easy on the eyes. CBS, still rocking the Dynasty hair, is impressed. Randy likes him. Yes, yes, yes. "Stay humble," Randy advises. Jenry goes to Jollywood.
Nakia Nicole Claiborne, 24, is a big round ball of peppy fun. She's self-described as "happy, with lots of energy" and from what we see of her in the waiting room, that's true. Lots of bouncing and dancing from this one. She has a good feeling about her audition.
At judging, she smiles from ear to ear and says she can't wait to go to Hollywood. Nakia sings Dancing in the Street by Martha Reeves and the Vandellas. She sounds alright, and coasts by on her super-cheerful, high-energy personality. The judges faux-dance in their chairs, and Paula calls Nakia "infectious." Unfortunately for Nakia, they ask her to bring the energy down, and she launches into Selena's Dreaming of You. It's a two-liter bottle of mess.
The judges didn't care about the flaws of the first time because of the party atmosphere, but Song Two killed the audition because it was just so bad. Nakia's face breaks into a thousand pieces, and at the door, she begs the judges for another chance. What's with all the begging this season? I guess if you've already humilated yourself in front of millions, what's another spoonful? Still, there comes a time when you've got to pull it together and make a graceful exit. Anyway, begging. Nakia doesn't want to let down the people who support her. She doesn't understand what's wrong with her pitch. Crying hopelessly, she leaves, and her supporters applaud her efforts. "I just wish I could change their mind," she sobs. "Sometimes you get tired of hearing no." Very sad.
And here comes Sarah Goldberg, 20. Sarah's a nut farmer from Crazy Town who eats Bonkers candy and subscribes to Mad magazine. Get me? Like Nakia, Sarah will sing Selena's Dreaming of You. Imagine her mouth as a lottery bin, with the notes falling out like big random balls. She also has the voice of a six-year-old. CBS wants to know if Sarah really thinks she can sing. "No, I'm not a singer." Sarah calls the judges out on laughing at her. Then she starts crying because she loves to sing but she's tone deaf. "I don't need to hear you say it, I know." But she thinks she can be the next American Idol. "You wanna know why? You wanna know why?!? " Because they can teach her, that's why.
Tears of a loon. "You don't have to sing to be an American Idol," she says, citing Paris Hilton as evidence. Randy points to the Wall of Winners behind Sarah, telling her all of them could sing. "I can be the only American Idol who's never sang before!" Paula puts her head down on the table, thinking that if she plays dead, the bear will leave her alone. Sarah literally shrieks, "I'm unique! Wooooo!!!! " She goes red-faced. More tears. Randy tries to talk her down from the ledge of this 40-story fit she's jumping from. CBS, Paula, and Randy...no, no, no. She leaves.
In the waiting room, she dials it up to 11. "Just because we don't have a million dollars and we don't have singing deals doesn't mean that we don't have lives and doesn't mean that we don't have important things in our lives," she hysterics. Behind her, auditioneers laugh, gape and generally acknowledge that Sarah has escaped from the Special Hospital. "I have become friends with these guys! I have become friends with Ray and Jen and Bill the security guy because I HAVE BEEN HERE FOREVER!!! " They told her that the judges went out drinking till three in the morning "and that is rude!" Her eyes look ready to pop from her kooked out head. "That is rude!!! "
As we go to break, Cowell finally shows up, casually chatting into his cell phone without a care in the world.
Simon settles in, as Antonio Torres Jr., age 47, croons New York, New York in our general direction. He wears a fedora hat and black tie, and I'm sure he thinks he resembles Frank Sinatra, if Frank Sinatra were played by a very old and sweaty Steve Buscemi. Incidentally, Antonio sings the song as "New Yorr, New Yorr." He's too cool for the letter K.
Jory Steinberg, 25, is next. She was born in Canada. (This is American Idol. ) She met the Queen of England. (This is American Idol. ) And met "a couple of different" princes and princesses of Japan. (This is American Idol.) She's not an ugly girl, but the the long, antenna-like eyebrows she's drawn onto her head certainly do distract. Jory sings Chains by Tina Arena. She has a nice voice that doesn't wow me, although things pick up when she hits the chorus. Again, she seems to fit the physical mold of what the judges want to sell us, and despite her, for me, average performance, she's unanimously through to Hollywood.
Cut to a clip reel of Marabou Patino, 27, who "represents" Queens, NY. The theme from Rocky plays as we see Marabou in sweats, jogging through the city streets. She considers herself the "American Idol soldier because (she's) completely militant when it comes to preparing for the audition." We see Marabou wrapping one of those Velcro things around her waist...you know, the fat-burning rubbery girdles. She straps weights to her ankles. She works out every morning starting at 5 a.m., and has lost 15 to 20 pounds for this audition.
Regardless, it's surprising when she enters judging, fit and sexy, wearing a short top to reveal her flat belly. She didn't look this good in her clip reel. She speaks with a gruff voice and comes off as a bit of a tough gal, with moxie. Marabou sings Love Without a Limit by Mary J. Blige, which is actually called Love With No Limit, Marabou. But that's okay. No, really. I'm harboring a grudge against Mary J. ever since she practically pushed Elliott Yamin off the stage during last year's finale.
I should mention that as she begins to sing, Marabou's name pops up on screen, and we're told her name is Porcelana Patino. Make of that what you will. Her voice is rough, but enjoyable. She sings like she's about to get into a fist fight. CBS thinks Marabou is unique. Everybody chimes in with a yes. Hugs all around as Marabou gets Hollywood-approved.
Outside, Marabou is greeted by her boyfriend, as Seacrest stands behind her and blatently stares at her ass the entire time. I'm sorry, Ryan, but those low-cut jeans are never going to fit you.
Montage of Judges Mispronouncing People's Names. It's exactly as hilarious as it sounds. Moving on...
Intro Christopher Henry, 20, who informs us that he often gets compared to George Michael and sometimes Simon Cowell. I inform Christopher that waxing his eyebrows to such a degree is a bad idea. Really, he has a nice face, but when you lady-up your eyebrows so much, you might as well have a unibrow for all the good it does. Body hair can be your friend. Anyways, Christopher doesn't look at all like Simon, but the judges all swear that they're doubles. Whatev.
Christopher sings Kelly Clarkson's Before Your Love. The boy can carry a tune, but, not to be rude, as Simon would say, he sounds like a girl. Actually, not that I'm that old, but he sounds a hell of a lot like a young Wayne Newton, who...well, sounded like a girl. And in fairness, Wayne Newton has made a few bucks for himself. Having come full circle, let's see what the judges think.
"You should be singing in a dress and stilletos," says Simon, immediately offending Paula.
"I understand that," the kid says, asking to sing something else.
"Barry White?" Randy wiseacres.
Then Simon and Paula get into it. She's trying to offer constructive criticism. He's stepping on her words. She calls him an asshole. Back and forth. Christopher justs want to sing another song. Paula stands over Simon and grabs his wrists. They do this dance at least once a year, but usually they wait till Hollywood. Ultimately, all four judges reject Christopher (Paula to Simon: "I said, 'Not right for the competition,' jerk."). The kid, who was perfectly nice, not untalented, and eyebrows aside, not bad looking, nods his head and quietly exits.
Next is Rachel Devita, who looks like that kid April from Gilmore Girls. You can decide if that's a good thing. Rachel, standing outside the Meadowlands Arena in "New York," wears mirrored sunglasses, has a mouthful of metal, and is cutting school to audition today. She's studying opera and worries that if they find out, she could lose her scholarship. Uh-oh.
Before the judges, she sings Eternal Life by Jeff Buckley. Wow, for a little girl, she's got some kinda rugged voice on her! Sort of Janis Joplin-like (not in terms of quality, but in terms of sound). They ask her to sing something else, so she tries that Idol favorite, Get Here by Oleta Adams. Her voice is much softer now. Then they ask Rachel to sing opera. She does and it sounds...like opera. What do I know?
Simon is puzzled. "We heard three different songs, who do you want to be?"
"I'd like to be me," she says. You picked the wrong show, kid.
CBS says yes. Randy says yeah. Paula says yes. "You're all coming to Hollywood," says Simon.
Post-commercial, we find some sort of Caribbean Dance Party going on. Seacrest joins in, moving awkwardly about. I suspect the producers are making him do this. He doesn't strike me as the kinda guy who's comfortable enough in his own skin to dance in public. At home, though, he knows all the steps to Chicago's final number.
Anyway, here's the fake, producer-made montage of rejects singing All Night Long. It's stupid, but I enjoyed the guy dressed like Alvin of the Chipmunks. There's big gay Ian and cute dumb Clifton. Fake edit of Simon, who isn't there, waving someone out of the room.
Chris Richardson, 22, enters, scruffy and good-lookin', to sing Donny Hathaway's A Song for You. He really puts his own spin on it, which, if you've got the stuff, is a good way to audition. CBS gives a yes. Randy is reminded of Justin Timberlake. Aside from the two having the same haircut, I don't get it. Paula and Simon "yes" Chris to Hollywood. In the hallway, he's ambushed first by his parents, and then by three attractive girls. Oh yeah, he'll do just fine if he gets to F12.
Montage (possibly fake) of bad singers, singing before the judges. Hi-Pitched Wailing Girl. Mr. Mumbles. Girl Who Forgets the Words.
Cue Nicholas Pedro, 25, who bailed out of the competition in Hollywood last year when he forgot the words to Build Me Up, Buttercup. Hey, I know all the words to that song. Can I go to Hollywood? In flashback, we see him bow out. I don't remember this at all, so I immediately smell a retcon. "If we show you the clip, loyal viewer, you will accept it as an actual memory and not something we just dug out of storage." If anyone recalls this, please e-mail me or post on the forums. I'm curious. Anyway, Nick has been haunted by the experience. Whether it aired or not, he lived it--but he's not getting weepy about it, either. Good man.
He sings Fly Me to the Moon for the judges, and he doesn't croon it, as most would. His rendition is jazzy...borderline R&B-ish, and totally commercial. And he remembers all the lyrics. Good job, Nicholas Pedro! I like this guy, so let's hope he doesn't crash and burn when he's thrown into the arena in a few weeks. Judges: wonderful, good, love your voice, yes. He's through.
Isadora Furman, 26, a thick girl in a cowboy hat, is the final contestant of the night. There's some Seacrest foolishness where he tries to guess her first name, which starts with the letter J. She won't tell him what it is, because if she does, she'll fall through the floor like Rumplestiltskin.
Isadora is a clairvoyent, and reading Seacrest's palm, she mentions things like siblings and cousins while he shakes his head in the negative. We also see clips of her, performing as a street musician. She tells us she sounds like Pat Benatar, Stevie Nicks, Janis Joplin, and Led Zeppelin. I love that guy!
She tells the judges she can sing and dance, and that she's smiling because she's thankful for God's gift--not because she's been drinking Chock Full O'Nuts with Sarah Goldberg. Isadora sings Lady Marmalade (and she's the first this season). Her performance is...well, let's just say she sort of has an orgasm in the middle. There's also a heavy-footed attempt at dancing, and she appears to speak in tongues for a moment or two.
When she suddenly lapses into Take Another Little Piece of My Heart, Simon cuts her off. Thank you, Simon! He wants to know what normally happens when Isadora performs in public.
"Depends... I sang with George Clinton, they liked it there. Sometimes when I sing other places I can get, like, arrested."
"Arrested?" asks the chorus. "Why would you get arrested?" wonders CBS.
"Um, just different reasons," says Isadora. She's awful and dull, and out she goes, swearing that she's a good singer. Then Seacrest does that obnoxious staring-without-speaking bit he's been cultivating since last week.
35 people made it from New York to Hollywood. Or from New Jersey to Hollywood. But let us not speak of that dark and secret place aloud, lest we face the wrath of Lord Voldemort.
Next week, we head to Alabama, home of Ruben Studdard, Bo Bice, and Taylor Hicks. God, I just realized he'll probably perform at this year's finale. At least I have four months to prepare. Or strike myself deaf.
Over and out,
--Frank
