If tonight’s group number isn’t a tribute to Michael Jackson I’ll be stunned beyond description. In fact, I would find it less surprising if Mary agreed not to speak for the entire show.
ETA: Checking out the East Coast live blog and 1. I’m wrong, 2. I’m stunned. Most of his stuff is on Sony and they’ve used Sony artists before so the only thing I can come up with is that the license fee is cost prohibative. (But how awesome would it be if Mary stayed silent the whole night. A girl can dream, can’t she.) Man, a Jackson tribute would have been Ruh-Ad. When I get done being stunned I’ma be real bummed. Maybe we’ll still get one before the season’s over. Fingers crossed.
So… Here’re a couple lil polls to see how smart we audience folk are. Which tune and which choreographer do you think will gift us a lil MJ lovin’ this eve?
ETA: How embarrassed am I that the initial version of this poll didn’t include Wade. Of course it’ll be Wade. Duh.
Fatima’s a long shot but how rad would that be? She did “Remember the Time” as well as a million others. And while it’s tough to pick just one tune, my fave from a dance perspective is The Way You Make Me Feel. The dance break at the end kills me every time. (Embedding is disabled but if you’ve never seen the full version, go check it and skip to the end. The shit in silhouette’s delish.)
I wasn’t going to write about this week’s So You Think You Can Dance Dance Revolution but then Matty went and linked here with promises of entertainment, or something so… Here we are.
Cat's Bored Y'all
Mia dined at the all you can eat hyperbole buffet before joining us this evening. Her effusive lathering of superlatives was occasionally tempered with tough, fair critique but the Brandon of it all made me rather uncomfortable. Cause you know what? Brandon’s not any fucking different than he was in Las Vegas. He’s been consistently fucking great. So, in reality, that whole shenanigans about how she’s changed her mind is really just a weasel-y way of saying, I was wrong. So how about an “I’m sorry”? Shanks had the decency to offer one to Danny. I feel like there are these moments on the show when folks get cameras on them and get caught up trying to be all dramatic. Then they go home and watch themselves and realize they kinda came off like a dick. Lord knows I talk some trash about Adam Shankman but after watching Mia’s performance tonight, I give him retro active bonus points for his behavior.
Brandon and Jeanine are a blast. Consistently. Week after week. But can someone please tell them, the Hot Tamale Train is, you know, not a real thing. It’s not like you get 100 bonus votes if you get a first class ticket. Though they might should entertain that there rule change. Then all the jumping up and down and squealing would make some sense. I remember the good old days when the dancers would laugh awkwardly at Mary’s antics. Or was that just in my mind?
Kayla and Kopono. Ready your rotten vegetables. This was fucking boring. They danced it beautifully — committed, connected. Nothing against them. The piece was just a plodding dirge. And seriously, Sonya, you’re a grown ass woman. Twilight? Really?
Fortunately, this piece gifted us what MAY be the greatest Mary Murphey line of all time. I’m a tad heartbroken it happened on Matt’s night off. In elaborating on her point that Sonya’s choreography played to their strengths, Our Lady of the Shrieking Siren had this to say:
If there’s anybody on the planet right now that doesn’t know that Kayla has the most beautiful legs I mean… They must be deaf.
Mary Murphey, ladies and gentleman.
Randi and Evan — More of this Joey Dowling person, please and thanks. Less with the Tyce DiSnorio.
I wanna pause for a second and make a point I’m not sure if I’ve made before… “Broadway” isn’t a style of dance. “Musical Theater,” sort of kind of is but what they really mean when they say “Broadway” on this show is one of many Jazz-styles pre 1980. Usually it’s Tyce biting Fosse badly (or Jerome Robbins or Gene Kelly) as opposed to tonight which was biting Fosse… well. I’m not sure how to specifically codify the difference but much like the difference between Twilight and hard core porn, I know it when I see it.
They danced it, fine. The Rich Man’s Frug, by the way, is f’n awesome. If you haven’t seen it, sad. Here:
That’ll also explain all the jidges talk of their wrists.
Kaitlin and Jason. So when this started out, after the first few bars I found myself thinking, “Oh shit. Am I gonna love another Plunging Neckline number? Am I going to have to rethink my who –” and before I could finish the thought it all spun out of control into this mess of unfocused, repetitive nonsense. Two weeks now they’ve been fucked by shitty choreography/costumes. But unlike last week, I think they danced this really well.
This piece also brought us what may be my all time favorite Cat Deeley moment.
Aside — What is happening when the highlights of the Revolution come from the host, a judge and the recurring visual of a hipster looking boy/girl in a fur elmer fud hat and a lip ring looking uncomfortable in the back ground of every cut away to the choreographers.
Back to Cat, in response to Nigel’s desciprtion of their costumes as “dancing condoms,” quoth Cat, “Safety first, Nigel.” This woman is an angel sent to protect us. I believe that.
Phillip and Jeanine? Tabby Cat and Bonaparte twice in four weeks? Quick, someone write a convoluted conspiracy theory post on what led to that occurrence. Mia was right, the chain was sloppy. I mostly didn’t care. Aside from that this was probably my favorite of anything I’ve seen of Samantha Jr and Mr. Josephine’s (I refuse to give into the nick name). It hit hard, it was intricate and surprising. It had a strong emotional core but not in a sap-tastic way (and I say sap-TASTIC ’cause I do enjoy that shit.) Phillip, you know, hearts and flowers. Love n’ stuff. But Jeanine – whoo boy. She killed it. I kinda really love her. Each week a little more. This week, lots.
Onward…
Seriously, there’s NEVER been a pas de deux on this show before? Certainly not on point but… Whatever. That’s lame. After Melissa and Ade, I’m convinced one couple should have to do it every week. Mia’s right. There’s no covering lack of technique with “personality.” You’ve either got it, or you don’t.
Melissa’s good but brilliant?
(Different score: Berloiz, not Prokofiev. Same moment in the ballet. Dancers: Suzanne Farrell and Jorge Donn. Choreographer: Maurice Bejart.)
Oh Mia… Hush with that. Just, you know, don’t speak.
And for extra bonuses, because I’ve been waiting forever for someone to get it on the you tubes, the exact moment I fell in love with dance:
I was two.
Back to our regularly schedule program –
Ade was a hot mess. Nigel let him off WUH-AY too easy with that aside about his feet needing to be better. I really enjoy him and he partnered her servicably but his technique was weaksauce. And how about that phrase where she does the pirouette, arabesque, grande jete sequence downstage and he just stands upstage, not in any position, no energy in his body… blech.
Vittolio and Karla did a surprisingly delightful quickstep but I’ll be shocked if they’re not gone tomorrow night.
So, that’s all I got. I was trying too hard and I didn’t so much proof read, I’m sorry. I know. It’s Matt’s fault. Blame him and his trip to Montana.
Pina Bausch, a truly unique and powerful choreographer, passed away today at 68. I wrote a bit about her a while back. I’ve only seen one of her pieces live, “Ten Chi.” It was stunning; a special and unforgettable experience. I hope her company will keep touring with her repertoire so I’ll have the chance to see more of her work in person, not huddled in front of a monitor at the NYC Performing Arts Library.
Last night was my first pilgrimage of the summer to The Hollywood Bowl. It was supposed to be Etta James backed by The Roots and Adele with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra string section. I bought the tickets the day they went on sale. I was terribly excited. I find Adele delightful and Etta’s one of my all time favorites. I saw her headline The Bowl a couple years back. She’s a buh-east. I mean…
She throws an imaginary grenade into the audience… Nasty.
I made note of the fact that Etta was opening for Adele and not the other way around. I remember when Etta threatened to eat Beyonce’s family for singing At Last at the Inauguration so while I wasn’t surprised when I got an email on Saturday saying Etta had to back out due to illness and Chaka Kahn would be performing in her stead, I was deeply bummed. I suspected Etta backed by The Roots would be the aural equivalent of peanut butter toast with a strong cup of black coffee. Simply perfect. I hope some day my ears will enjoy such a thing.
The thing about The Bowl is, it doesn’t so much matter who’s playing. The view is beautiful, the sound is fantastic, the weather is almost always perfect. You get together a group of good folks, a pic-a-nic basket and some bottles of wine and even a Henry Mancini tribute can be a blast. When the music’s great and the stars align, the experience is transcendent. Etta was one of those shows. So was Sigur Ros, who I didn’t care for till seeing them there. Diana Krall killed me, I cried when she covered “Case of You” solo on the piano. The Bowl’s just really special. Aside from the ocean, I think it’s fair to say, it’s the best thing about living in LA.
Because of this, I was fairly forgiving when Chaka Kahn appeared on stage and screamed at me for 45 minutes. At first I thought, “Man, she can wail.” But the longer it went on, the less it sounded like singing and the more it sounded like someone was dragging a brillo pad across her vocal chords. Course I danced my ass off during “I Am Every Woman,” because, as was suggested by the LA Times, much like AIG, that song is too big to fail. But I can’t count how many times I thought, “Man, I wish Etta was here.” I hope she really was sick and it wasn’t a rouse to hide some diva shit. Cause lady, listen, you got fans, and we were real bummed you didn’t sing to us last night. Just so you know. And if you were sick, I’m sorry. I hope you’re feeling better.
Then came Adele. Loveable, charming, endearing Adele. She mentioned how “gutted” she was about Etta, how she was her favorite singer. Makes sense. Etta’s masterful when it comes to picking your moments. Unlike so many singers with big fucking voices, she keeps it simple and strong so when she does decide to bust out some serious and intricate shit — a screamed high note, a crazy run, a take ‘em to church kind of moment — it means something. Adele’s not nearly as skillful — and at 21, how could she be — but there’s a simplicity in the way she attacks her songs that I find similar to Etta.
She put on a beautifully flawed show last night. She was nervous, forgot a bunch of words. Squeeled a couple times and apologized profusely. She’d told her mom not to come for fear her nerves would be even more out of control so she called her towards the end of the show and asked the audience to say hello. It was refreshing the way she wore her nerves, sewed onto her sleeve. It is a rather grand venue. Seats about 17,000+ and she (plus Etta and the Roots, whoops) sold it out. Nothing to sneeze at. I can’t imagine what that must feel like to be at such a high point, so early in your career, walking out onto that stage. One can only hope she ages gracefully, growing in confidence and skill, so we can meet back up at The Bowl a long while from now, when I can get the senior discount on my tickets. She won’t be nervous, she’ll hold court like Etta. And it’ll be one of those transcendent shows.
Thanks Cat, for being almost as pissed as I am that my piece of shit fake TiVo went all mind-of-its-own on me last night. I’ve yet to decide if the pretty HD picture is worth this nightmare of a DVR. Twice I told it to record. Twice it agreed. Then… Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Sure, technically I could have watched it live. But really, no. I can’t. I won’t sit through the filler and the manufactured tension. I have better things to do with my evening. Like get through the Coastal Thailand expedition in Tomb Raider: Underworld. Thanks to the thorough folks over at Sytycdism and the Twitter machine, I’ve been able to mostly piece together last night’s show.
The group piece was not my favorite of Mia’s work though it ages well with repeat viewings. She seems to be picking up bits and pieces from hip hop vernacular, popping especially, and slathering it with her Mia sauce till it’s mostly unrecognizable. An interesting direction for her work if it is, in fact, a trend and not a one time deal. (And for those crowing about Lil C being nonsensical Wed. night, you’re not wrong but his talk about various choreographers vernacular was actually the one lucid thing he popped off).
So I’m kinda, sorta, not really shocked at all that Kayla and Max were in the bottom three. When will Nigel learn? During the Top 20 taping, when the judges were jizzing all over her, I turned to my friend and said, “She’s screwed. People hate being told who to vote for.” Blake, Danny and the flip side of said coin, Cedric… Whenever the jidges get all overly emphatic one way or the other, the voting audience has a tendency to, you know, tell them to suck it. If what these twits suggest is true, that Nigel laid it at the feet of He of The Plunging Neckline, well, he should get smacked for that. As much as I’d love to blame all the evils of the world on “BFree” (a nickname I’m sure refers to his pecs), that piece last night was stellar and well danced. If anyone’s to “blame” for their bottom three-age, it’s the judges. Maybe people thought they were safe, maybe people were sick of Nigel telling us Kayla had already won. Who knows. Regardless, ain’t Chesticles fault.
I would have preferred losing Caitlin over Ashley, especially considering her dreadful performance Wed night. I really couldn’t stand Kayla’s solo but lord knows she wasn’t going anywhere. As little as I dig ballroom solos, I think Max’s was quite smart and well choreographed but he doesn’t much move me so I wasn’t that sad to see him go. I would have been a tad heartbroken to lose Kupono as I think he’s maybe the most soulful, emotionally connected dancer we’ve got on the show this season, Jason being right there with him.
As I’m wont to do, I got a little haughty over on another SYTYCD blog. I’ll never cease to marvel at the tendency of fans of this show (and maybe others, this is the only reality show I pay attention to in the land of the tubes) to get all fucking conspiracy theory about it. I refer everyone back to Momo’s post on the subject. It’s a TV show, not the Third Reich. Every week, two people are going to go home. The fate of the world does not hang in the balance. Nigel is not sitting in a tower somewhere, drumming his fingers together, plotting ways to slight good dancers. They’re all good. Someone’s gotta go. Calm the fuck down, kids.
Lastly, I heard rumor a Kathak dancer performed last night. I’m sad I missed that but glad it offers the opportunity to pimp a documentary on Jason Samuels Smith, who some of you might remember from his performance two seasons ago, and his travels to India to collaborate with Chitresh Das, one of the great Kathak masters.
And while we’re on the subject of the lovely lady, did that dress last night look familiar to anyone? Clearly, it’s one of Cat’s faves. She is the grand Empress of the “Ain’t No Accounting for Taste” club and yet, I love her still.
I considered not blogging about this snorific episode at all then this morning I was IMing with the always entertaining Matt Murphy and realized I have a bone or two to pick and I wanna do it all public like.
Just yesterday, NeYo’s “Sexy Love” popped up on my iPod and I was thinking wistfully of Allison, Ivan and the Shane of old.
It’s clearer than Christmas cookies at a bat mitzvah that none of the ladies on this show (with the possible exception of Karla) have any business dancing hip hop. More so than in any other season, the contemporary dancers seem FAR out of their depth in the form. Caitlin was an unmitigated disaster last night. Honestly, she looked like me in my beginner hip hop class. I made the same cringe-y face watching her as I do in the mirror every monday night. There was no snap, no edge, no flow, no groove. Everything was tentative and awkward. There was a time Shane would have inhabited the landscape Nap/Tabs have taken over and given us a number that contemporary dancers could execute with a degree of integrity but lately, it seems like his only solution for chicks who can’t hit is to make them dance like strippers. (See: last week’s floor fucking in the group number and Caitlin’s breakdown last night.) It’s maddening. It’s not cute. It’s not hot. It’s just embarrassing. Kupono and Ashley were far less galling, mainly due to the fact that Ashley’s more comfy with the form than Caitlin (and possibly because Shane doesn’t want to have sex with her. Judging by Caitlin’s lack of skill in this arena and her featured role in last week’s Sparks group routine, methinks the dude’s got a yen).
All right. Bone, the first, picked. Moving on…
Memo to all SYTYCDDR contemporary choreographers. PLEASE STOP PUTTING THE SAME FUCKING ROUTINE ON STAGE. Just because you use different music and the dancers wear different costumes does not mean it’s not the same 10 – 15 moves tossed in a bag, shaken up and dumped on stage. It all works just fine when we’re dealing with dancers with whom we’re connected, who have a story that’s being told, who we know and care about. The rote choreography becomes a vehicle for an emotional journey and I’m all for that. It’s like a well executed romantic comedy. You know exactly what’s going to happen and roughly how many turns it’s going to take to get there but when you care about the characters, it doesn’t matter. If they’re unlikeable people and/or poorly drawn, it’s like shoving every orifice full of cotton candy. I’m talking My Best Friends Wedding vs The Wedding Date (Dreamiest of dreamies, Dermot Mulroney shone in the former and couldn’t save the latter).
These treacly, sap-tastic lyrical routines are great when we’re invested in the dancers’ journeys: Ivan was technically weak, Danny was emotionally stunted. Both used one of these routines to show they could over come. But it doesn’t matter how strong the dancer if we have no context of pathos or struggle. At best, these numbers are a fucking snooze-fest and at worst, they give you cavities.
Not clear on what I’m talking about? Let’s go to the video tape:
(Let it load and skip to 2:15)
(Yeah, they called this “jazz”. Whatever, they’ve never had their vernacular straight. Pop Jazz? Huh?)
Big, open armed attitude turn?
Look at my crotch developpe and/or battement?
Carry the girl like a baby?
Big, impressive split leap from the lady, likely caught in mid air by the dude?
Seemingly precarious lift, usually with another entreaty to look at the lady’s crotch?
Role on the floor, legs intertwined?
Gentle face touch?
Walk away apart/together in sadness/comfort OR hold eachother lovingly while sinking to the floor?
Now, as a counter point, Mia often offers work that’s similar in terms of the technical steps but the quality of the movement she requires from her dancers and her sense of rhythm and flow takes her work out of the realm of lyrical dance competition and stamps a clear and original artistic signature on it.
The only reason I can tell the difference between a Mandy Moore number and a DiSnorio one is most every Mandy lyrical routine has some lil hitch where one dancer pulls another with a flick of their foot. Oh, and, Tyce uses music written post 1989. Otherwise, I might as well be in a public school gym somewhere in Texas with a number pinned to the back of my sparkly leotard.
I’m sure there are plenty of folks who dug Jonathan and Karla in Stacey Tookey’s piece last night. I get it. They danced it beautifully but I so didn’t care. I have zero sense of who either of them are as people and we’re not far enough into the season to get a handle on if/how they’re growing as dancers and performers. Stacey seems like a lovely lady but when they bring in a brand, spankin’ new choreographer, it would be nice if their work felt brand spankin’ new. I’m certainly interested in seeing more of her. Mandy has had moments of inspiration and excitement on the SYTYCDDR stage and I hope Stacey, too, will bring something original and fresh. But lasts night’s introduction to her work was terribly cliche and after five seasons, it’s getting harder and harder to forgive this kind of milquetoast.
So I know this was a whole lot of grousing but I wouldn’t get so worked up did I not love this show with all my heart and soul. Since I went all negative nancy on your ass I’ll do my best to balance it with an admission I can’t believe I’m making. While I tend to find his work rather uninteresting, I was deeply entertained by the choreography of He Who Dresses from the Closet of Our Lady of the Plunging Neckline. Much like Cat Deeley, Brian Friedman did not disappoint with his wardrobe choice. More importantly, he did not disappoint with his choreography. Kayla danced the fuck out of it. Girl was built to be a dancer, those legs go on for football fields. Max was no slouch either. It was the only piece of the evening that blew my skirt up.
Now, we’re only two episodes in so I’m not going to sound any alarms yet, but what I’ve lauded about this season, that there isn’t one person I don’t like, is revealing itself to be the inverse of a real problem: there is no one I love. (Well, ok, Phillip, but my affection for him is based on past seasons and not on a step he’s danced this year.) So, I have to ask, next week? Mia Michaels? Can you deliver these children? Please?
I’m having a SoYouThinkYouCanDanceDanceRevoltion Party tomorrow night. I’m terribly excited about it. It’s the first anyone will be seeing my newly decorated apartment and I’m going to have snacks. I know. It sounds really awesome, doesn’t it? This will inevitably effect the recap-age, hopefully in a pleasurable way, possibly in a belated way and definitely in a not-so-much with the twitter machine way. Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn ya.
In the meantime, since I last posted some excerpts, someone’s gone and uploaded the entirety of LaLaLa Human Steps “Amelia.” (I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t make the suggestion to find it on DVD and watch it on a decent sized screen. It’s stunning.)
Now I’m clear. I thought she meant an OLD FASHIONED type of Mother Theresa.
She’s holding mother fucking dry shampoo.
“You can’t just go through your life being adorable and doing reality shows and being famous for being famous.” Oh Babs. Clearly you’ve never watched the RealWorldRoadRulesChallenge.
The best part of this whole video is at the end when Whoopi starts falling off the couch out of boredom. Someone get this woman a pulitzer. While you’re at it, throw one at Roker too.
Listen, she’ll always be Joey Potter to me. Sure, Scientology is crazy cakes but I’ve never heard a bad word about either of them from people with whom they’ve actually worked. Here’s the thing though, I remember the SNL monologue in which she “tap danced” with Will Ferrel and if they’re bringing Katie motherfucking Holmes on SYTYCD to tap, my head is going to fly from my shoulders and explode in a fireball of rage. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe she’ll be doing some silly lil’ broadway trifle which I’ll probably hate but won’t care much about. Are there far more compelling dancers I’d rather see in a Broadway routine? Absoloo. Any of them bring in the eyeballs that Katie Holmes will? Of course not. But we get a Broadway number every other week all season long so who cares about one more from some famous not-so-great dancer. Not only are there plenty of insanely skilled, young, interesting, TV ready tap dancers next to whom Katie Holmes would look like Mariah Carey trying to play baseball…
…but the form is so fucking neglected on this show it’s criminal. It’s not like we’re talking about Butoh or some shit.
(Though how cool would that be?)
Tap is one of the few home grown American dance forms and they’ve virtually ignored it. I understand the folks over there feel learning to tap in under a week is a challenge too intense for the contestants (doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to see them try) but in all five seasons, they’ve had one professional tap dancer perform as a guest. If Katie Holmes is the second (and it’s a stretch to call her a professional), so help me Mr. Bojangles, I will lose my goodgoddamend mind.
I hope the only offense of M(r)s. Holmes-Cruise’s appearance will be having to look at Tyce DiSnorio’s smug mug and blander than paste choreography. We’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable Dormeshia Sumbry Edwards.
Since I’ve probably promised to stop posting this video I offer the follow up to Mash and Nicholas trade…
And last, because it makes me happy in a sad way. Or maybe I mean it makes me sad in a happy way. I’m not sure. Here…
