American Idol: Results Show (3/14)

Twelve become eleven...

by Frank Pittarese

"These 12 people have battled through television's most grueling auditions and worked non-stop for months. But in just thirty minutes, one of them will be going home." Why just one, when we can easily lose about five? Because every episode makes a patrillion bucks for Fox. And because this is American Idol.

Seacrest takes the stage to the cheers of the masses, including two of last season's losers: Paris Bennett and Lisa Tucker. Paris was the little one who liked to play dress-up. Lisa...hmm...I don't remember anything about her. How's that for a peek into the future, Gina Glocksen?

Last night's recap plays to the tune of I'm Coming Out. Possibly because it was Diana Ross night, but probably because Seacrest and Cowell threw big hairy balls of gay at each other. In other news, Brandon made the oopsie of forgetting the lyrics to his song. This inspired Haley to do the same thing, because singing an off-key version of Missing You just wasn't enough. It's okay though. Haley has become a necessary entity, so Simon treated her with kindness. Phil sang half-badly, but used his hypno-eyes to make the judges praise him. Gina will beat me up if I say anything bad about her. Chris Sligh said eff you to Diana Ross and her forty years of success by singing Endless Love to the tune of a Coldplay song. The judges were all, "Never do that again, fat boy." Blake sang a synthy, Europop version of You Keep Me Hangin' On, which I disliked, then kinda liked, and now very much enjoy after watching it a bunch of times. Stephanie sang Love Hangover, leaving out the sexy bits and the disco bits. The judges called her a great big tease and they're taking someone else the prom. Chris Richardson showered the room with enough personality to distract from the fact that he can't sing very well. Sanjaya sang Ain't No Mountain High Enough as if there were a gerbil up his ass. (No offense meant to the gerbils who are reading this. Or to asses.) LaKisha, Melinda, and Jordin thought they were on some other show which actually involved having talent, and as a result, they all sang wonderfully. Of course, this means they're going to lose.

Group Sing: Diana Ross Medley. Chris R. and Phil bop to Where Did Our Love Go. Chris R. is a natural bopper. Phil looks like somebody's dad trying to "dance hip." Singing this song is literally killing Chris Sligh. The girls, led by Haley, Melinda, and Gina, tackle Baby Love. The quality differs depending on the individual, as you might expect. Jordin tricks my eyes for a second, when I think she's Antonella, back from the grave. LaKisha was born to sing this song. The choreography is a mess, as everyone circles around each other to sing their part. Everybody wants us to Stop! In the Name of Love and think it over. I've been doing that for nine weeks, but I'm still watching this crap show. The girls sing while the boys pose. Why does Brandon suddenly remind me of Arnold Drummond? Chris Sligh is sooo hating this entire routine! Therefore, I love it.

Ford Ad. Set to the tune of Float On by Modest Mouse. In grainy, 1970's faux-film stock, half the kids are dressed like dirty hippies. Chris R., in a long brown wig, looks like Bo Bice's Mini-Me. Sanjaya's in bell-bottoms and some kind of tie-dye top. Haley wears a crocheted vest. Chris Sligh sports a giant afro. Everybody in this ad approaches the camera in creepy, herky-jerky fast/slow movements. It's like Woodstock of the Living Dead. Suddenly, we jump to the 1980s. Blake, Brandon, and Stephanie are all wearing track suits, like they're in the road company of Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. Blake demonstrates by break dancing on some cardboard. He's authentically hip hop, yo. Then, in modern times, all the contestants appear, stalking us, hungry for our flesh, before suddenly driving off in Ford vehicles. The plot of this one escapes me. It's way too avant-garde for my tiny brain to comprehend.

"To the business," says Seacrest. He's going to ask the three people with (allegedly) the lowest votes to join him on stage.

LaKisha is safe. Gina is safe. Brandon forgot his lyrics and is in the bottom three. Sucks to be him. Jordin is safe. The nauseous-looking Chris Richardson is safe. Melinda Doolittle sang Home and is...not going home this week. She's safe. Phil is in the bottom three. The audience boos, and that won't be the first time that happens tonight. Chris Sligh is safe and people cheer because they're stupid. Stephanie is safe. Blake is safe, because the voters aren't that stupid.

Phil and Brandon stand centerstage like two dopes. Sanjaya and Haley are the last remaining contestants. One of 'em is getting called down, and Haley's face has "It's me!" written all over it. But before we can finish "the business," Diana Ross must sing. She must!

This is the Diana Ross I wanted to see last night. She's all decked out in a glittery red gown with a huge, puffy wrap around her shoulders, like she's ready for a Dynasty reunion special. She poses forever and sings when she's damn well ready. That song is...huh...Spiral Staircase's More Today Than Yesterday. That's interesting. Guess she doesn't have anything to plug and is tired of singing her own stuff -- but maybe she should have. Her performance is pitchy, dawg. She's nasally and off-key. Remarkably so. And she's shouty beyond all belief. Doesn't she realize she's holding a microphone? Voices carry, Diana Ross. She rushes over to the contestants (all of whom are back in their seats) and thrusts her mic in their general direction. So that explains it. She thinks it's a weapon. Didn't she get arrested for this once?

Elimination time. With the departure of our visitor from the anti-matter universe, time resets itself. Brandon and Phil are back on stage. Sanjaya and Haley stand, waiting for their fates to be decided. "America voted. Haley, would you...please have a seat." Sanjaya is in the bottom three!!

Seacrest immediately sends Phil back to safety, leaving Brandon and Sanjaya behind. Like Luke Skywalker, I have a bad feeling about this. "After nearly 28 million votes, America has decided that Sanjaya…you are safe." Sanjaya hugs Brandon and sulks back to his seat. There's more booing now directed at Sanjaya for surviving.

Brandon's Memorial Clip. Waiting in line at auditions. Making it to Hollywood. Singing in Hollywood. On a red carpet somewhere. Smiling, smiling, smiling. Posing at a photo shoot, looking all "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?" I'm not even kidding. Touching the hand of Diana Ross. Playing the keyboard. "It's never over. I'll continue until it's done, which is never, so I guess I'll do it forever." And with that, Brandon is dead to us.

Next week, another celebrity mentor, another Group Sing, another Ford ad, and another body thrown on the fire.

See ya,
--Frank