A dynamo fuels ‘Idol’ Season 8 dynamic
Fact about the number eight: In the Judaic religion, eight is a very auspicious number, designating both the complete days of Hanukkah (the faith’s second-biggest miracle) and the moment, when a Jewish boy has lived this many days, that the rite of circumcision is performed.
As with any “Idol” dawn, the premiere of Season 8 is an event too huge for its full consequence to be adequately represented in any one episode of television programming. As when a child gets on the bus for his first day at school or an army crosses over the border of its neighbors, the first inches may be but a small step -- but they commit one to a journey of such enormousness that we can only begin to guess how we will emerge at the other end. So we take that deep breath and plunge ahead.
The first big question mark of the night hung over the debut of the new judge, Kara DioGuardi. With the show always willing to use the ruckus it creates to its own advantage, Kara’s step onto the “Idol” stage was shown through the eyes of the media frenzy surrounding her addition to the proceedings.
At first glimpse, it was hard not to be struck by the visual difference between Kara and her new colleagues -- in appearance younger, sharper, more attractive, conveying a slightly dangerous edge to her smile. She instantly put a little spring in the aging juggernaut’s step. But the question remained: How would she fit in and stand up to the other judges?
In the first half of the show, we heard little directly from Kara, but there was an unmistakable effect at work on the rest of the panel. For the last two seasons, Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul and Simon Cowell have looked from Day 1 of the audition tours like they were going through this one bloody more time at gunpoint.
Last season in particular, the weariness was often painful to watch. Tuesday night, at least, there was energy, even vigor, from the judges. Randy and Paula in particular seemed to have pumped it up about eight notches, and Simon’s “I need a new job” harrumphs felt more like quips than desperate cries for help.
In the first half, while Kara was largely unheard, an interesting dynamic took shape as her presence in the middle of the table had the effect of seeming to isolate Randy from the real action -- which was taking place in the Simon/Paula banter. In the past, Randy has served as the amiable third wheel to their buddy comedy, casting the deciding vote between Mr. Cranky and Miss Bleeding Heart. But with his access to the two physically cut off, he suddenly seemed on a separate panel altogether.
In the second half, however, hints of the Kara promise were seen. In the heated “bikini girl” incident, the new judge showed clearly that the knives are there, waiting to come out. She demonstrated an edge sharper, more informed and potentially even nastier than Simon’s occasionally shopworn put-downs. In her parting comment to the bikini girl, a tossed aside of “Sing naked next time,” she gave us a glimpse of the potentially deadly force to come, with an edge that could inject a great deal of energy into the show.
The rest of the episode had that feel of those first relatively quiet miles just over the frontier. There was no sudden discovery, but a handful of decent talents. (Although after one episode, I declare Emily Hughes the front-runner to be the next American Idol.) (Note that after the first episode of last season, I made the same declaration for Kristy Lee Cook.)
The other big question mark that loomed was: In light of depressing events, in light of a new age of “hope” dawning, would we see a softer, gentler show in regard to the painfully misguided tier of contestants? I would say after one episode the answer to that was tentatively yes.
Although the freaks were still present and their self-delusion and nutty expectations of stardom were still fully displayed, one might say it was done with an almost loving hand compared with years past. Instead of forcing the humiliation into the faces of the vanquished, we come close to actual empathy, nearly experiencing the tragedy through their eyes, to the tender sounds of “Dust in the Wind.”
And so the border has been crossed. The year of the Davids is but a memory. And the only way home is down a long and treacherous road at the end of which, six months hence, we will find one of these young dreamers standing onstage at the Nokia Theatre.
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