‘American Idol’: Dawn of the big stage

This article was originally on a blog post platform and may be missing photos, graphics or links. See About archive blog posts.

To the extent that a phenomenon as rich and complex as ‘American Idol’ can be boiled down to a simple metaphor, the show’s appeal can only be compared to gladiatorial combat. Each week, every contestant’s entire life boils down to 90 seconds in which—alone on a hostile stage—they either soar or implode. Then at the conclusion of each song, their fate is handed to them and neither all their piety nor all their tears can take it back again.

Watching on television, those moments can seem unbelievably strained and painful. Watching them live in the ‘Idol’ studio, I discovered, the tension is much, much worse. Almost too real, if you will.

On Tuesday night, I was honored to bear witness in the Idoldome at CBS’ Television City studios -- to sit before the stage where Clarkson and Aiken, Daughtry and Underwood had begun their public lives. And my major impression was of what a cold place that stage was for these contestants, so small and so vulnerable in the flesh.

While the Big Stage is actually not that huge (as is always the case, smaller than it appears on television; the audience area, seating about 300 seems about as large as a medium-ish Junior High School auditorium), but it is incredibly full and busy. Giant rotating neon columns flank the stage, a video screen circled by Martian antennas looms behind, spotlights everywhere, fog machines, a 20-some piece band blaring and seated just five feet away -- three judges gazing on blank and pitiless as the sun (and chatting through a shocking amount of the performances).

Standing alone on this stage, those contestants who ‘don’t have it,’ as Simon Cowell put it, are swallowed whole by the apparatus. While the band gets the crowd on its feet and dancing, middling vocals drown underneath the giant effect, as was the case in Brandon Rogers’ and Chris Sligh’s performances. Also worth noting that while the crowd does play the good sport and get up and dance when called to, standing o’s are by no means de rigeur , and all ovations are certainly not made equal, even here.

The camera also plays capricious games, handing out its favors indiscriminately. Haley Scarnato’s and Phil Stacey’s performances seemed much weaker on TV than they had in person; Blake Lewis and Chris Richardson seemed stronger. Melinda’s proportions which are unremarkable in person, seem truncated on television; Chris Richardson’s features deeper, less callow than in the flesh.

On television the spectacle of watching the inadequate contestants ripped to shreds provides the satisfaction of meritocratic justice unflinchingly administered. In person, the pain these very young people endure as they absorb their fate is truly visceral -- from a hundred feet away, one could feel Chris Sligh and Blake Lewis go cold, and it was much harder not to pity them. Haley Scarnato’s breakdown was so intense it was a bit embarrassing to be in the room with her.

On the other hand, one could sense more clearly Sanjaya Malakar’s complete indifference to the judges’ opinions as he shifted back and forth on his feet, like a schoolboy enduring a teacher’s lecture about playground safety before he’s allowed to go out for recess.

But for raw entertainment and excitement, there is little to match the thrill of the crowd awaiting their pop gladiators. From the pre-show entry of the judges like prize fighters striding through the crowd to the strains of ‘Got to be Real’ to the expectation hanging on each contestants performance, the audience hangs at a fever-pitch throughout the three-plus hours they sit in the studio. And every single person present (and no doubt most of the viewers) arrive with formed relationships (for better or worse) with and opinions about each of twelve contestants? In the risers, debate on the great topics of our day raged -- Melinda vs. LaKisha, which, if any, of the boys could break out of the pack. And was Haley Scarnato’s dress too revealing?

My personal focus group, the extremely wise Kiki Hertel, aged nine from Fort Worth, Texas, arrived for the show bearing two signs -- for Melinda Doolittle and Gina Glocksen. She also confided that Blake Lewis is a major favorite in her class, an opinion shared by several others of the pre-teen set in the risers. Sanjaya’s charisma, however, was completely lost on her. By the end of the night, however, it seemed Gina Glocksen had not done much to help her dark-horse standing with Kiki, and LaKisha had entered her top tier. ‘She has a really powerful voice,’ Kiki confided.

The season has begun in earnest now. From here on in, history rides on every step.

--Richard Rushfield