On the Scene: The 'American Idol' finale
May 24, 2007, 11:13 AM | by Alynda Wheat
Categories: 'American Idol'
Hey PopWatchers,
If you read EW's What to Watch, this is gonna be just... like... that. Only longer! And snarkier! And bloggier! As you may have read on Adam's post yesterday, I'm a blog virgin, so be gentle (yet forceful — gotta let me know who's boss). How'd I end up doing the honors tonight? Let's see, Adam and Shirley worked the red carpet, Whitney's on vacation, Dalton's editing the Idol special issue, Mandi's doing the live blog, Michael does everything else for y'all, Annie's stuck in New York, Tim's got a deadline for some non-Idol story (honestly, I didn't know we still did those), and everyone else has a life. So you got me, babe.
Given the Crips/Bloods, Hatfields/McCoys, Rosie/Elisabeth-levels of animus between Blaker Girls (and Boys) and Team Jordin, let's start with something we can probably agree on: Worst. Finale. EVER. Half the performers were seriously pitchy, dawgs. (A lone, fabulously manicured finger is pointing at you, Bette Midler!) The thing had to be sponsored by Geritol (I love me some gray foxes, but Smokey, Gladys, Tony, AND Bette??). And no, that was not an Elvis/Celine hologram-type experience when you saw when Joe Perry strapped to his guitar, playing backup for Sanjaya. That really happened. No, I was there.
Speaking of which, I came not to blog about the show, but the room. So let's go!
Me? I'm sitting on the ground level (Parterre, in Kodak Theatre parlance), towards the back left. How far back? There's only one more row behind me, and it only has, like, four seats. So clearly, I ain't got Brad Garrett's clout. But weep not, PopWatchers, because So You Think You Can Dance winner Benji Schwimmer and judge/choreographer Mary Murphy are right next to me. F'real. Nice folks and their season premiere is Thursday, so I don't know why they gotta sit with the help…but I digress. I'm immediately struck by the sheer number of children surrounding me for a show that, to my knowledge, has never had the word(s) SquarePants in the title. They're everywhere! With parents, with nannies (because even though this is LA, nobody's plastic surgeon is that good) — with better seats than me. Not that I'm bitter, because this is gonna be the best finale ever! (Okay, so I was naive.) To distract from the kiddies I chat with Benji and Mary. Both doing charity work, Mary's been upgraded to full-time judge on So You Think, and Benji's gonna pop in for a perf, and they're both HUGE Jordin junkies. But only because they were really Melinda junkies denied their fix. Soooo many of those in the audience. And please, please, please don't ask them about Blake's "dancing" because 1) They've been asked that a million times and 2) It's not really dancing, and 3) He's no Justin Timberlake. Yeah, they dropped Justin into that debate. Low blow.
Anyway, we're 12 minutes to air and still, no judges. Warm-up guy (Is it Corey? Johnny D? Honestly, I can't tell you how happy it makes me not to know the difference) is asking — nay, demanding — that we give the judges and Ryan a standing O when they deign to appear before us. Given the number of times we're up and down all night, it seems a small request in hindsight. Finally, at five minutes to air, judges start appearing in ascending order of applause: Randy, then Paula, then Simon. Paula appears remarkably steady so soon after her Human Weeble act, and we all breathe a collective sigh of regret. But now it's time for the pre-show commercial break. It's starting! It's starting! Right after this:
Ad Break 1: First sightings of Jordin and Blake. They're holding hands in that you-should-win-no-you-totally-deserve-it-no-I-don't-you're-so-much-better-no-you! way that only people who genuinely like each other bother to fake. As the judges begin the first of their practiced rounds of ignoring whatever the hell is happening onstage, Blake starts jumping up and down like he had a whole supersquishee five minutes ago. Before he has time to really weigh whether or not he can hold it, it's too late. Ryan's winding up into "This......... is AMERICAN IDOL!"
Ad Break 2: Simon dashes off (Did he share Blake's supersquishee? How sweet!), crowd's milling, and — tragedy strikes! A man barreling his way out of the aisle comes down hard on Benji's foot! His foot! And he's a professional dancer and everything! That's like something heinous happening to Roger Federer's serving arm! Al Gore's green thumb! Katie Couric's legs! What to do?? Think, woman! Ice! Must. Find. Ice. Guess which angel of mercy winged her way out of the auditorium past a whole row, and out the door to get Benji's career-saving ice? Me! And by "me," I, of course, mean the nice man in security I flagged down to carry out the actual task. But I totally supervised. By law, I think this entitles me to some portion of the kid's future earnings, but I haven't consulted my attorney yet. I'm pretty sure Benji will be fair.
Ad Break 3: See, this is the kinda stuff you miss while you're watching your Ford ads: The second the cameras cut to commercial, stagehands snatch Blake for a costume change and run as if there's some sort of imminent, credible threat and his last name is Cheney. "This is Eagle to Base, B-Shorty is secure — repeat, B-Shorty is secure. Will advise when white tuxedo threat is removed, and transport back to the staging area is a go. Over." Then there's Ace Young milling around the judges' pit, gettin' all huggy, and looking exactly the same, Jennifer Hudson in a black sheath, looking better than ever, and Paula group-hugging the Paula Posse.
Ad Break 4: Doug E. Fresh! Didja know Blake's beatboxing was entirely ad-libbed? Honest and for true. It was tight! It's like we were 10 again! Okay, 12. Sheesh, fine, 14. You're such sticklers. Coolest part of the night! Riiiiiiight up until Doug E. and Blake missed their high-five. Awkward. Anyway, at the break Smokey Robinson comes down from on high — wherever it is they store music legends before pulling them out and making them "current" again — to hug the judges. It's Old Home week, since Smokey was a guest judge in season 4. Idol Tonight hosts Justin Guarini and Kimberly Caldwell have the run of the room and make full use of it, while Simon and J. Hud have a tete-a-tete. Whatever it is they're saying, they both look happy. Could be:
Simon: "Congrats on the Oscar, you completely deserved it!"
J. Hud: "Thanks, ever so, Simon. Your approval means so much to me."
Or...
Simon: "Suck on it, you ungrateful wretch, I totally made you."
J. Hud: "Mmm hmm, and that's what makes sticking it to your limey ass so sweet."
I guess we'll never know.
Ad Break 5: Umm... I think Benji and Mary are sick of talking to me. It's so hard to make friends here! Ooh, Carrie Underwood's on stage. I just know she won't be pitchy. Nope. Not. At. All.
Ad Break 6: Oh dear, bongos are being brought onstage. The entire audience gets the sinking feeling that the rhythm is gonna get us. Then something fairly rare happens: Someone gets Simon's attention. No, in a good way. He actually gets up and hugs/air kisses a respectable-looking older dame. (Tot platonic, Terri! Your man's true to you, far as I know!) It's a moment of genuine sweetness. As opposed to, say, a fake (?) cry at the end of a treacly ballad that clinches a major singer competition. As opposed to that.
Ad Break 7: Weirdest moment of the night. No, weirder than Kelly Clarkson's Angry Song. And that Sanjaya solo. And the crushing realization that Bette really was their big "get" of the night. Weirder than all of that. All of sudden, from stage right appears a kindly older gent. Think Desmond Tutu by way of Oxford. "I've come all the way from England" he tells the crowd, and with that accent, we're inclined to believe. He comes down the steps, into the judges pit, and to Simon's left holding what appears to be a bound leather photo album that looks Important. Then he announces, "Simon Cowells [sic], this is your life!," then hugs Simon. Just when we expect to see our favorite judge's fourth-grade teacher, high school sweetheart, and former dentist trot onstage to give us the particulars of The World According to Cowell(s), the man is escorted through the audience and backstage. That's it. No This Is Your Life guests, no Simon photo montage. Nuttin' to explain what just went down. Blown segment? Botched prank? Was the dude about to streak? So many Idol mysteries!
Ad Break 8: For some reason, a group of girls named Britney, Britney, Britney, Tiffany, and Britney are in the audience. And it's their second night at the show. Britneys are the new Heathers. Rather than rock back and forth and sob, I decide to start talking to people again — only not Benji and Mary. They've suffered enough. In front of me are brothers Eric and Terry. Eric bid for the tickets at a charity event. You wanna know how much he paid for the pair? SUCH a tacky question! (Thank God I was there to ask it for you.) $4,500. Yeah, I'm so asking him out.
Ad Break 9: Finally, someone in the audience is singing! I've been told they do that! A man in one of the balconies makes his melismatic way through "Happy Birthday" for some tween who probably just spent half the night asking her parents who the old people singing with Gina, Kiki, and the two Chrises were. Happy birthday, kid. You'll get how special that Tony Bennett performance was later. Way later. Anyway, you had your moment. Joe Perry's back onstage. Probably to wreak serious vengeance for the Sanjaya Humiliation...
Ad Break 10: ... or to rock out with Kelly (pictured, with Perry), which would be cool too. Maybe it's a have-to-be-there-to-see-it thing, but for the first time I realize Kelly's got a black-girl booty. (Note: I am a black girl. I can say those things. It's in our contract.) Anyway, Stage Manager Debbie's calling for Blake and Jordin. Which means it's almost time crown the princess and pack this vaudeville act up until next season. And a good thing too, because this finale suddenly leaves me wildly embarrassed that I voted 60 times last night.
At any rate, the new Idol is Thumper/Piglet/Care Bear-cute, the runner-up may actually put out an interesting album, and you don't have to buy tickets for the Idol tour if you don't want to. But if you've got a spare $4,500 to shell out for a pair, call me.
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