I suppose I can be succinct. I’m not sure whether the show has simply run its course, American has run low on talent, or it’s just an off season (‘cause by now I’m usually rooting for someone). I’m really just half paying attention, I admit (says it all?), but counting only 9 8 contestants left last night--it hit me that the show may be as popular as ever, but not for the usual reasons. Truth of it is, at this point, the only thing keeping me (and I think a lot of people) interested in American Idol this season, is a twisted desire to be witness to whether American will vote American Idol off its pedestal by voting for Sanjaya Malakar. Or to put it another way: This season of American Idol owes Sanjaya Malakar what past seasons have owed their eventual American Idols.
So before slamming Sanjaya or the people who are voting for him, first slam the apparent lack of talent and/or appeal of Sanjaya’s completion. Sanjaya isn’t special, but neither are any of this season’s other Idol wanabees.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
American Idol Midseason Notes
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2 comments:
"So before slamming Sanjaya or the people who are voting for him, first slam the apparent lack of talent and/or appeal of Sanjaya’s completion."
Well, if you say so, but what about his competition?
Actually, one may as well blame the people who are voting for Sanjaya; the wise man noted that no ever lost money underestimating the intelligence (or the taste) of the American public. Sanjaya is this generation's Mrs.Miller or Tiny Tim, and what people seem to be responding isn't his courage, or even his "heart", that vague, schmaltzy quality the gullible will use to euphemize the lack of talent. Sanjay, in fact, seems heartless, even calculated--his wretchedness is put forth by design, for a purpose. What he does have is an unslakeable thirst for fame, wealth, the desire for center stage. He's that guy in drama class who was smitten with his porno doll looks whom we've all seen leering at himself in each mirror he passes; Sanjay wants to be stared at, adored. Every musical genre he deforests, each ballad he abuses, each uptempo song he ties to chair and takes a rubber sap to are all means to keep him on the air, under the spotlight, on the blogs and the cable talk shows no matter what is being said about his presence. It's about this fool attaining fame, no matter the cost.
His audience adores his singular ambition to be larger than life, and with the fact of there now being scads of famous people without a trace of measurable, observable talent might well be the End of Celebrity As We Know It.
That, of course, may not be a bad thing, since the alternative to watching pointless famed folks on TV is to pay attention to one another instead.
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