Access all your favorite blogs from myajc! Home > Channel Serf > Archives > 2007 > January > 08
Monday, January 8, 2007
In Support of Tap-Dancing Cupcakes!
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“You’re NOT Sandy.”
It’s been almost 11 hours since “Grease: You’re the One That I Want” went off the air, and I’m still haunted by those words.
NBC debuted the show last night as the appetizer on its new Sunday Reality Banquet (it was followed by the return of “The Apprentice,” starring Donald Trump looking increasingly like a roasted pig with an apple in his mouth. Oh wait, forget the apple. It would inhibit his nonstop talking). Anyway, “GYTOTIW,” as the Serf now babbling-ly refers to it, is a sorta “American Idol”-meets-Mickey Rooney “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!” televised contest aimed at finding the stars of an upcoming Broadway production of “Grease.”
I’ll admit, I went into this exercise with some trepidation. Which is just fancy journalist talk for “The Evil Overlord (aka my editor) made me watch it.” It could be big, he suggested with the supreme assurance of a man who is from New York and approves my vacation requests.
Big, it may be. But did it have to break my heart?
The first episode found the sooo-not-Paula-Abdul-caliber trio of judges - including “Grease” creator Jim Jacobs himself and Kathleen Marshall, the multiple Tony-winning director of the Broadway show - auditioning hopefuls in Los Angeles and Chicago for the roles of Danny and Sandy (John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John in the movie). There was something touching about seeing these creative stalwarts light up when they periodically encountered someone they thought might have that certain something.
Unfortunately, some of the best performers didn’t look the part(s). The strongest female singer of the night works professionally as a tap-dancing cupcake, not a dainty petit-four. The second best was a 17-year-old girl with the irresistible don’t-kick-my-puppy name of “Sunshine.” She also had the sort of wild hair that comes from repeatedly sticking your finger in a light socket. But the judges must not have heard of this modern new invention called a blow dryer and they gave her the boot, too. The also-rans all got GYTOTIW’s signature kiss-off: “You’re NOT Danny” or “You’re NOT Sandy.” Argh! That’s NOT human!
As my favorites progressively bit the dust, I resolved not to watch future episodes. But when host Billy Bush kept nattering on about the top 50 candidates from this and upcoming auditions going on to “Grease Academy,” I’ll admit, my curiosity was piqued. Does Grease Academy have other students, I wondered? Is there a football team with GYTOTIW letter sweaters?
So I’ll keep watching. But only if they promise to be nicer to the “Dance 10, Looks 3” types and transfer out co-hosts Bush and Denise Van Outen (I know, who?) before they darken the doors of Grease Academy. Do we really need their uninformed voiceovers to figure out what’s a fairly self-explanatory process? In particular, after 90 minutes of listening to Bush lifelessly bleat, “Will (insert name of auditioner here) please the judges?” I found myself thinking, “You’re NOT Danny. You’re not even that annoying Donald Trump.”
So keep looking for stars, GYTOTIW. And find a better host. I happen to know there’s a good tap-dancing cupcake looking for her big break.
