Idols in the Mist

9 years ago

I'd like to start this post by first sending out my condolences to the hard-working announcer who was forced to say the words, "You're just minutes away from the most magically delicious show any network has produced in years!" in a pre-Idol Glee promo. Whoever you are, you aren't paid enough to read cereal box copy, no matter how many orange marshmallow stars Fox could stuff into this bloated hour-long spectacle. (Answer: One. Paula Abdul.) Now, let's proceed.

Moving the circus from the relative intimacy of the karaokedome to the planet-sized-superweapon scale of the Nokia Theater, we're so often reminded, can either make or break an Idol finalist. Last year, impossibly soulful woodland rodent David Archuleta rose to the occasion, power-balladeering a rendition of "Don't Let the Sun Go Down On Me" that literally moved a sea of 7000 to link arms and sway in unison, each clenching an ignited cigarette lighter between their teeth. The effect, when viewed via satellite imaging, was nothing short of stunning.

Sadly, last night brought nothing approaching that caliber; Adam Lambert and Kris Allen took no major risks with the finish line so practically within their color-coordinated fingers. (On homecoming week, Lambert left one thumbnail polish-free, and Kris put polish on one thumbnail -- an adorable act of solidarity that served the added benefit of turning Danny Gokey into a kind of manicure-leper for having no nail polish on his fingers of any kind. Nicely played, boys, nicely played indeed.)

With DialIdol.com putting a 1.1% sliver of a margin between them and declaring the race too close to call, we all but certainly have the most suspenseful Idol finale in the show's history. Or at least since the Clay Aiken/Ruben Studdard match-up in Season 2, which, amazingly enough, also pit a very-obviously-gay belter against a 300 lb. black man with a set of cheeks you just wanted to PINCH. ALL. NIGHT.

I break now to calculate voting in the Movieline staff pool:

Seth: Adam

Kyle: Kris

Stu: Willem Dafoe's Mutilated Genitals

Of the six burning questions I posed last night, only two of any consequence were answered:

1) Paula's dress choice.

Abdul chose a shimmery electric green number that served as the eye-pulling focal point of the dizzying proceedings, even more soothing to over-excited viewers than the sight of Anthony Hopkins' reassuringly familiar face. What's more, it rendered chroma keying a snap, and the YouTubes have since been clogged with everything from industrial hot dog factory footage to vintage McDonald's commercials dancing across the dippily enthused judge's chest.

2) The lyric Kara DioGuardi would slip by producers in "No Boundaries."

As it turns out, the words "And if you set your mind to it / You know you can do it / Just reach for the stars / Bite me, Paula, you dried-up old pill-hooooooound..." were never uttered by either contestant. However, "You can go higher / You can go deeper / There are no boundaries / At least I'm still ovulating" were. I consider that close enough. (The rest of the lyrics of the much-maligned single are here.)

As for who came out on top, both put up a good fight, but ultimately Lambert's "vocal prowess" (Seacrest's words, not mine) and flair for theatrics won out. Watch as he makes his grand entrance on a fog-smothered stage, then launches a flock of black doves out from his wizard sleeves before sinking his Edwardian fangs into Roland Orzabal's lyrics about awesome death dreams. That's show business.

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