Tuesday, October 12, 2010
This is going to be a rather bizarre recap of DANCING WITH THE STARS because it’s only the first time I’ve managed to sit through the whole two hours. But I know the show is insanely popular so felt it was time I saw for myself what all the hoopla was about.
First of all, I didn’t know half the “stars”. My first impulse was to feel really old and out of it but then I checked the bios. Kyle Massey? He’s on some Disney Channel show. Audrina Patridge? She’s appeared on THE HILLS and is listed as a “TV personality”. Okay. So it’s not like Angelina Jolie is on the show and I’ve never heard of her. Audrina Patridge. I’m sorry, change the name to DANCING WITH THE QUASI CELEBRITIES.
I am familiar with the host, Tom Bergeron. How could I not be? He emcees every show that Ryan Seacrest doesn’t. But Ryan at least knows he’s not funny. Tom has this look on his face like “I’m so clever I even amaze myself” then delivers one clam after another.
Not being a dance aficionado, I don’t know the judges. Carrie Ann Whoever offered balanced constructive critiques. Although, to superstar Audrina Patridge she did say, “you lack energy at your ankle”. Huh??? Len Whoever was the token Brit (one is mandatory for all shows) who portrayed the proper English gentleman sprinkled with pixie dust. Bruno Whoever was just a sketch. Jerry Colonna meets Jerry Lewis. I don’t know what their credentials are but his must be entertainment director for Carnival cruise lines.
Once the contestants finished their dance they were interviewed backstage by Brooke Burke who is so stunningly gorgeous she even looked fabulous on the 11 PM news trying to explain that she and her live-in boyfriend didn’t knowingly buy stolen goods to swindle a high-end design store. Her mug shot will be more beautiful than any picture Bristol Palin will ever take.
Bristol Palin (Sarah’s daughter) was just a Clydesdale. On the show they billed her as “Teen Activist”. What the fuck is that? Why not just “Teen Excuse for Getting Her Mother Even More Publicity”? (Sarah was in the audience as was Jamie Lee Curtis who must be taking a break from grieving.)
I wouldn’t mind so much Bristol being a contestant if only she could dance. But clearly she can’t.
This was Tango/Rumba night or something. (One team did their routine to a Tango version of Jefferson Airplanes' "Somebody to Love". Even on LSD that was wrong.) Bristol’s dance began with her lying on the floor while her partner spun around and danced. When he finally pulled her up and they began dancing together it looked like a fireman pulling someone out of a burning building. Even Bruno LePew thought she was terrible. To distract the audience, her partner whipped off his shirt during the number. Len was ready to crown him the champion right there.
Almost as bad was the Situation. I guess they never taught dance in any of those tanning salons he frequents.
God bless Florence Henderson. She’s a good sport. But please, Flo, let us just remember you fondly as Mom Brady. You should be spending your time suing your plastic surgeon. But trying to do a sexy seductive dance? You’re 76. That was creepier than when Betty Draper found Glen in the backyard playhouse.
Former Laker Rick Fox was worried that the stage was too small and that he would throw his partner into the audience. That didn’t happen. I’m especially glad she didn’t wind up in Jamie Lee Curtis’ lap. When someone is sitting Shiva it’s best not to disturb them.
There were nine dances in two hours so that meant a lottttt of paddddddding. We saw snippets of rehearsal filled with angst designed to build up the suspense. “Oh, I’ll never get it!” “Oh, my foot hurts.” “What’s a Rumba?”
And then there were those backstage interviews with Brooke Burke. The question I wish she asked all of them was, “Who are you again?” Or maybe, “Let’s say you bought a lot of designer furniture for $70,000 when it was normally much higher and paid the sales girl directly. You wouldn’t think there was anything shady about that, would you?” Instead it was the usual, “so how do you feel?” softballs. Zzzzz.
But it was fun watching these people clomp around trying to salvage their careers. And the dresses for all the women under 75 (except Bristol Palin's) were very hot.
Tonight someone gets voted off. I say vote them all off and just give Jennifer Grey her own show.
Next week is Rock Week. Big deal. But the week after is Pyrotechnics Week. That I gotta see. Bristol Palin shooting red, white, and blue sparklers out of her breasts. I'm voting for her that week.
By Ken Levine at 6:52 AM