American Idol was painful last night, or at least the first 90 minutes of it was. It took that long for James Durbin to make an appearance, and even then, he was barely recognizable. But more about that in a moment.
Last night’s episode was dedicated to results, so we ended up watching performer after performer walk down a long aisle to meet the judges, while Ryan Seacrest intoned the same thing time after time: “Most important night of his/her life,” “Best group of contestants since cavemen began turning screams into songs,” “Only 24 can go through …”
Then there were the previews of what we were about to see. “Sorry, but you’ll never be a singer,” or “Sorry, not this year …” and a chair tumbling ominously off stage as a hidden contestant groans in anguish. Could a contestant have thrown the chair off the stage while having a nervous breakdown? Could that contestant have been James? And the show dragged on and on … No chair tumbling off the stage, no hissy fits, no James Durbin. The slow-paced tension reminded me of Ibsen. And I thought this was a singing contest.
Finally, 90 minutes into the show, Durbin was called to judges. Was that really him at all? Gone was the bandana, replaced by a wool cap. Yes, it’s cold in Santa Cruz, but hey, this was filmed in Los Angeles, and it was prerecorded. He removed the cap and stuffed it in his pocket. Gone was the fauxhawk. Gone was the bandana. Could the Durbin we know and love have been gone too?
No, the signature silk scarf coming out of his butt and trailing on the floor was there for everyone to see. There was hope.
He climbed to the stage and faced the judges, while Ryan intoned about the challenges he faced and how American Idol will not only affect him, but his wife and child too. James Durbin compared his screaming to Adam Lambert—not a good sign. He said he was determined not to scream his solo performance, but in the flashback we saw that he did anyways. Another portentous sign. The judges rambled on and on. Ye gods! Executions go quicker than this.
But then we heard the news. “You’re in,” or to quote Steven Tyler, “You’re like lightning.” Durbin smiled. The wait was finally over, and I could finally switch the channel, at least until next Tuesday night.
Only then did the irony strike home. Idol would probably be preempting Glee. The gods of cheesy music are a cruel lot indeed.
