An Afternoon with Lincoln

There are many reasons why I love this time of year.  I love the feeling of putting on a thick, comfy turtleneck sweater and sipping hot chocolate.  I love waking up on cold Saturdays to spend the day coaching my incredible speech team.  I love that peppermint is used to flavor everything from coffee to ice cream.  And I love the fact that there is suddenly a glut of great movies to track down and see.

Granted, the demands of work don't often leave me with a lot of time to go see movies.  Since the start of the school year, I've only had time to go to the movies once -- stealing away the weekend after my birthday to go see the brilliant Argo.  (Seriously, Ben Affleck is an incredible director.)  With a long holiday weekend, though, comes the opportunity to carve out a little time to hit the multiplex rather than the Black Friday sales. (Of course, I DID spend a little time carving out some deals, too.)  Today, while the masses were pushing and shoving their way to cheap video games and high def tv's, I spent a couple hours with Abraham Lincoln.

Going in, I expected greatness.  When Steven Spielberg puts his mind to it, he is capable of great filmmaking.    Sure, there are times when he indulges his more sentimental side and times when his impulse for film as spectacle outweighs his impulse for film as art.  There are definitely times when Spielberg's desire to make films of great importance yield preachy, treacly works where entertainment is lost in the sermon.  At his best, though, Spielberg can walk the line between art and entertainment in a masterful way unlike many other directors out there.  Fortunately, Lincoln shows Spielberg at his very best.

Part of the success of the film lies in the choice made by Spielberg and screenwriter Tony Kushner to eschew the trappings of the standard biopic.  We don't get shots of young Lincoln splitting rails or stealing Mary Todd away from future political rival Stephen Douglass.  Instead, the film begins in the last months of Lincoln's life.  With the end of the Civil War clearly in sight and the Southern states poised to return to the Union, Lincoln (Daniel Day-Lewis in a spectacular performance) realizes the window is quickly closing during which he can pass the 13th Amendment which will end slavery.  The film tracks the backroom deals that Lincoln, his staff, and his allies in Congress (led by Tommy Lee Jones as crusading abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens) used to win the 2/3 vote necessary to amend the constitution before a Confederate delegation can arrive in Washington to negotiate the terms of surrender.  At the same time, Lincoln faces his own personal issues with his emotionally turbulent wife Mary (Sally Field) and the desires of his son Robert (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) to join his contemporaries in the war effort rather than wasting away in college.

There is so much to love about the film.  Let's start with the performances.  Much has been written already about Daniel Day-Lewis's performance, so there's not a lot I can add to the deafening praise other than to say that it is a completely brilliant performance.  Day-Lewis completely immerses himself in the role and creates a Lincoln who is part political strategist/part civil rights crusader/part folksy professor.  I could have spent hours just listening to his Lincoln tell stories.  There is a beautiful blend of gravitas and humor to this Lincoln that gives us both the legend as well as the man.  If Day-Lewis doesn't win the Oscar for this, I can't wait to see the performance that beats him because it will surely be breathtaking.  Also sure to be Oscar nominees (if not winners) are Tommy Lee Jones and Sally Field who turn in the best work of their careers.  They are surrounded by a veritable smorgasbord of "Oh, that guy is in this?"  James Spader, Bruce McGill, Lee Pace, David Strathairn, Hal Holbrook, Tim Blake Nelson are among the many supporting actors who create what has to be the strongest ensemble in years.

Kushner's script gives this cast a lot of meat to chew on and rich characters to develop.  It can't be easy to create suspense in a biopic.  Ideally, the audience all knows how things turn out, and yet there I was biting my lip with anxiety, wondering if the vote to end slavery would actually come out in Lincoln's favor.  Yes, intellectually I knew it did.  I know my American history and my constitution.  And yet I found myself tallying right along with Mary Todd Lincoln as the number of needed "ayes" left dwindled down.  I love, too, that Kushner and Spielberg sidestepped the "big moments."  We don't get the Gettysburg Address beyond a couple starry-eyed soldiers reciting it to Lincoln, who seems a bit uncomfortable with the celebrity adoration.  We don't get the assassination or even the collective grief following Lincoln's death.  We get private moments or alternative views, learning of Lincoln's shooting through his young son Tad.  What I loved about this approach is that the script assumed its audience's intelligence, assumed we knew the details of the assassination and the other "big moments" in Lincoln's life.  It's so refreshing to not have Hollywood pander for once.

Spielberg's attention to detail, as always, dazzles.  Even in his worst films, you can't deny the guy has an eye for truth and accuracy.  The art direction is gorgeous, even when portraying the often grimy reality of every day life in 1865.  Historically accurate recreations of Lincoln's office, White House rooms, and Congressional chambers and offices immerse the viewer in this world.  It is a beautiful film in every sense of the word whether we're seeing beautiful White House quarters or grim battlefields.

There's a reason why this film is already being spoken of with such reverence and leads many critics' lists for top Oscar contenders.  It is proof that great American filmmaking is still possible, that movies can still mean something more than blowing stuff up or keeping the kids entertained.  Spielberg doesn't need gimmicks or 3D glasses to enthrall.  He just needs Abraham Lincoln.

We Have Nothing to Fear ....

Last Friday morning, I woke up with a lot on my mind.  It was the final day of speech camp, an intense three-day workshop an alum and I had set up to prepare my team for the upcoming season.  It was opening night of the summer one acts my Drama kids and I had been working on all summer.  I had a field trip the next day to take my Drama kids to see The Pirates of Penzance.  One thing I knew for sure about my weekend was that I would be unable to see The Dark Knight Rises, and I was bummed.  I have recently come to terms with the fact that I love superhero movies, a fact I'd kind of shrugged off before but which gets harder and harder to dismiss with the increased Hollywood output of some pretty amazing comic book superhero films.  Out of all superheroes, I love Batman the best -- a love that goes back to my childhood and watching Adam West, to my late adolescence and Michael Keaton, and to adulthood and Christian Bale.  I've seen every Batman movie on opening weekend (except for the Adam West version from the 60's due to the whole not being born thing), so it was disappointing to miss out on this final installment of a trilogy that renewed my love for the Caped Crusader.  But I reminded myself of the whole "grown up responsibilities" thing and consoled myself with the fact that seeing it Tuesday afternoon would mean a less crowded auditorium and cheaper ticket price.

As I was getting ready to go to speech camp, I did the same thing I do every morning when I'm getting ready for work -- I turned on CNN.  Within seconds, the horror of what had happened early Friday morning in Aurora, Colorado.  I struggled to process what I was hearing.  Who would do such a thing? Who would walk into a theatre and just open fire on people who were there to just watch a movie?  I thought about how excited the people in the theatre must have been as the lights dimmed and that Warner Brothers logo appeared on the screen and how confused they must have been when the attack started and how scared they must have been as the events unfolded.  In my mind, I kept seeing my local theatre and imagining the scene unfolding in the auditorium where I've seen so many films. To say I was horrified would be an understatement.

Over the course of the weekend, more stories from the attack came to light and left my mind reeling.  I won't lie -- as much as I rolled my eyes when I saw people on Facebook expressing fear of going to the movies in light of what happened in Colorado, I was a little nervous myself this morning when I woke up.  It wasn't that I was afraid of an attack happening here in my little town.  It was more the idea that the peace and sanctity that I associate with movies was shattered.  The movies had always been a place of escape, where I could experience any range of things -- romance, adventure, terror, triumph, but it was a place where I could experience those things safely and vicariously.  When James Holmes walked through the emergency exit with his arsenal and opened fire on the innocent audience, he stripped away the vicarious and brought the horror of our world into the sanctuary.  He let us know that there was no place where we were truly safe anymore.  When the notice came on screen reminding us to check for our emergency exits and to exit safely should the need arise, I thought of those people in Colorado.  The film features several scenes of villains storming crowds and innocent people coming to face to face with horrific violence.  I imagined those scenes playing out behind Holmes's rampage (as reports indicate it took quite some time for the film to be turned off in that auditorium).

Instead of being scared, though, I grew angry.  I am angry the actions of one sad, sick little man are casting a pall over the art of storytelling.  I am angry that my stomach dropped a little when Bane blew up the football field rather than thrilling in the spectacle of an intense scene.  I am angry that future film releases are being sent back to bay for fear that their dediting epiction of violence may be deemed insensitive or "too soon", as is the case with the upcoming Gangster Squad, a film that features a pivotal movie theatre shootout that will likely be excised from the film even though Entertainment Weekly refers to it as a "key scene."  I am angry that DC Comics is pushing back the release of Batman Incorporated because, as artist Chris Burnham said on Twitter, "There's a specific scene that made DC and the whole Bat-team say, 'Yikes.'  Too close for comfort."  I am angry that a pretty spectacular film (and The Dark Knight Rises is a pretty spectacular film) will probably forever have this shadow of senseless violence over it.


What James Holmes wanted to do last Friday morning was strike fear into hearts.  What we need to do now is channel that fear into anger and defiance.  Don't let him and other lunatics like him take away our art -- whether it's film or music or literature.  Don't let ourselves cower to the tyranny of fear.  There is a scene in The Dark Knight Rises that rang powerfully with me today -- Bane has reduced Gotham to a sort of anarchistic police state (if that makes any sense).  The Gotham police force gathers together and begins marching toward Bane's headquarters, marching into a situation that is sure to be dangerous, that may likely resuilt in their death, and yet they do so courageously, defiantly, proudly.  Now is the time for moviegoers and concertgoers and readers to be courageous, defiant, and proud.  Don't cower in fear but reclaim what is ours and embrace our arts even when they force us to confront some scary things, whether it's real-world violence or yet another Tyler Perry movie.  That movie theatre is ours -- never forget that.

The Discerning Eyes of an Adult

A couple weeks ago, my sis and I were watching a Saturday Night Live re-run featuring One Direction as the musical guest.  I'm not overly familiar with their work, but having spent two weeks teaching theatre at College for Kids, I know that they are considered pretty dreamy amongst the tween set.  As I watched these boys do their thing, I was kind of struck by how rather unspectacular they were.  I turned to my sis and said, "Is it just me, or are these guys not all that cute?

My sis sagely replied, "Go back and look at the New Kids on the Block ... with the discerning eyes of an adult."  (When I pointed out that I was in college during NKOTB mania and therefore never fell victim to their alleged allure, she amended her comment to Duran Duran.)

This summer has actually been a bit surreal in terms of my kid passions colliding with my adult sensibilities.  I've discovered several "retro" channels lurking in the midst of my digital cable packages that have allowed me to take jaunts down memory row with some shows that have held special places in my memory.  And filtered through the "discerning eyes of an adult," these shows are entirely new experiences -- for better and for worse.

Batman:  I can remember giddily sitting down weekday afternoons to watch Batman on WFLD-Chicago.  It was bright, colorful fun to six-year-old me.  Now?  Well, first of all, I can't help but be distracted by the sort of pervy undertones of the Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson relationship.  (I mean, to become Robin, the kid has to slide down a pole labelled "Dick."  Think about that for a second and tell me there isn't something sort of weird about that.)   The writing is stilted, the acting painful, the design work shoddy, the plots formulaic.  I still watch it, but I watch it in more of a Mystery Science Theatre kind of way rather than with that love I felt as a kid.

Family Affair:  Unwatchable when you know the fate of Buffy.

That Girl: Ann Marie seems a bit dim.  How did she ever survive living on her own in New York City when she barely seems capable of dressing herself in the morning?  And I suspect Donald is using her as a beard.

The Brady Bunch: Um, the Brady kids are douches.  Seriously!  Marcia is a snotty bitch.  For all her insecurity, Jan isn't much better.  Cindy....well, Cindy is sweet but I think Mike and Carol might want to get her tested for some learning disabilities.  Greg is an arrogant jerk.  Bobby is a total weasel.  The only decent one is Peter who seems resigned to being the lone nice guy surrounded by these narcissistic jags  he calls "family."

Mork and Mindy:  Robin Williams's mugging makes this unbearable.  What seemed hilarious when I was eight seems self-indulgent to a 40-year-old who spends a fair portion of her career working with comic actors and helping them learn to straddle the line between funny and over the top.  Clearly, Robin never had such a teacher -- or he was a really poor student.

Facts of Life:  After watching an episode where Natalie and Tootie are vying to play Nellie Forbush in South Pacific (at an all girl's school.....did Jo play Emil?) following auditions that would have left my music director and I struggling not to either laugh or cry, I decided it was time to turn the channel.

Of course, some things hold up better than you might expect.  There are the classics that have stood the test of time -- I Love Lucy, Dick Van Dyke, Mary Tyler Moore are deserving of their legendary status.  The first episode of Three's Company is pretty beautifully constructed (although the "smear the queer" kind of humor that is employed -- particularly by Mr. Roper -- throughout the rest of the series can be a bit offensive to more enlightened 21st century audiences).  Get Smart, too, remains hilarious and, while campy, not nearly as mired down by datedness as you might think.  Laverne and Shirley may render watching 2 Broke Girls impossible this fall because Max and Caroline have NOTHING on those two brewery workers.  WKRP is even better than I remembered, although the layout of the station's offices makes absolutely zero architectural sense.  (Seriously, there are windows everywhere!)

There is something sad, of course, for seeing behind the curtain of these shows that held such treasured spots in my pop culture memory, but there is also something sort of comforting.  I've grown up, and I owe a lot to those shows that led me to seek better and smarter entertainment.  These shows taught me things that I didn't necessarily realize when I was a kid -- how to be independent, how to get along with others, how to be kind and generous.  They also filled my childhood with a lot of laughter.  With many of these shows, I make a conscious decision when I sit down to watch.  I turn off my adult filter and spend a half hour giggling at the lunacy and ignoring the inner eye rolls that inevitably come when Adam West says something dripping (now) with double entendre or when Jan Brady shows up with that hideous wig at Lucy Winters's party.  And then I click into my DVR and appease my more sophisticated tastes with the latest episode of The Newsroom.  Don't let your adult tastes kill the childlike joy of these old shows.  Surrender to the silly and ignore the logical flaws that riddle the shows....and maybe forget you read this post.

The Mento Becomes the Manatee

I am a high school drama director.  Well, that is one of many hats I wear throughout the course of my days, but it's a part of my job that brings tremendous reward.  I love watching my students bring life to the words on a page, watching them grow over the course of a production or over the course of their four years with me.  Sometimes, I think that those moments when my kids are on the stage and I am standing at the foot of the stage guiding them through a tricky scene are when I am at my best not just as a teacher but as a human being.  Not to get all Drew Barrymore up in here, but there really is something magical about kids in the arts, and the relationships I get to forge with them inspire me daily.  We have seen each other at our best, and yes, we have seen each other at our worst, but the bonds that are forged in our little (well, not so little) Drama Club are pretty incredible.

And I am their fearless leader.

Most of the time.

A few days after our spring musical closed, my music director came to me with a proposition.  Our regional office of education had received a grant that funded before and after school programs to reach out to kids both at risk and kids who just needed something to do during those time periods.  As summer approached, the program director wanted to spin the program off into a summer program to keep kids connected to the school during the off months.  A hypothetical idea that had been floated when he sent an inquiry email out to the faculty mentioned theatre.  I saw the email and, to be honest, deleted it.  I had just finished a pretty solid nine months of directing and coaching speech.  I needed a break.  I was looking forward to a summer off for the first time in several years -- no outside teaching, no acting, nothing.  My music director saw this proposal, though, and was intrigued.  He wanted to do some sort of summer theatre program.  My initial reaction?  "Absolutely not."  Like I said, I was pretty wiped out.  Add to it the fact that, to be honest, I wasn't quite ready to do theatre without my group of seniors who were graduating.  I was dead set against this whole thing.

And then I thought about it.  I thought about how much I love working with my students, how much fun it could be to do theatre with them without the added "burden" of homework and lesson planning.  Within a couple hours, I was standing in front of my music director and saying, "I'm in."  We came up with the idea of doing two one acts -- I would direct one, and he would direct the other.  And then he floated another idea -- what if we did THREE one acts with the third show being directed by a student and starring.... the two of us?  He was itching to act, and I have to admit I was, too.  (I try to do some sort of acting once a year to kind of keep those muscles from atrophying, and the deadline was approaching for me to get onstage again.)  We immediately decided that my assistant director, a young woman who has been my AD for the past four shows I've directed, was the only logical choice for this gig.  Luckily, she said yes AND was agreeable to us presenting her with a show that was already cast ... with her teachers.  

And so I've spent the past month directing six of my Drama Club kids in Christopher Durang's The Actor's Nightmare and appearing onstage as Susan in Durang's short Funeral Parlor.  Directing Actor's Nightmare has been on my personal wish list for years, and having the opportunity to work on it with six pretty tremendous kids was a dream come true.  I loved watching them find different shades to the absurdity.  I gave them a lot of freedom to explore and craft their characters, a freedom they took to heart.  I had one girl come to me and ask me if it would be okay for the actress she was playing to have a Southern accent whenever she wasn't playing a character.  I had another boy come to me with some ideas for his character's costume based on research he had done.  Every day was a new adventure for us.

And then when that rehearsal was over, it was time to take off my director's hat and become an actor.  I will not lie -- the first rehearsal with my student as my director was a little intimidating.  Suddenly, I had to walk the walk and do all the things I always tell my kids to do -- cheat out, listen actively, project, be fearless.  I had to put it all on display.  What if I didn't have it?  What if I revealed myself to be one of those people who couldn't do and so had to resort to teaching?  

Once I got over those fears, the experience became a bit surreal.  It was weird to stand on the stage that my kids had stood on and getting that sense of joining in the legacy of our program as a participant and not just the director.  Add to it the fact that at times, it was sort of like being directed by ... well.... me.   My young AD/Director has only ever worked with one director -- me.  What she knows about the creation of a show came from working with me.  She used my vocabulary, she employed a lot of my style, and as an actor, it was pretty darn cool.  There was also nothing quite like the pride that comes from seeing someone you have mentored over the years blossom into a confident, thoughtful leader in her own right.  Getting to be in her first show was an honor that I know I will cherish. 

Tonight was our performance, and it brought some new fears, particularly when the lights came up and the front row was filled with my students -- past and present.  I looked to the wings and saw several of the kids who had been in the other one acts standing in the wings to watch the show.  No pressure!  But then I heard the words I've said to so many kids over the past several years and knew that now was the time to walk the walk and to "go all in."  

When people roll their eyes and ask me how I can stand working with teenagers all day, my answer lies in moments like these when, to quote Tracy Jordan, "the mento becomes the manatee."  This summer was filled with those moments -- seeing new leaders for our program emerge, watching a director be born, witnessing torches being passed and accepted.  There aren't many jobs where you get to experience things like that.  Many of my peers were a bit horrified that I was giving up my summer to direct yet another show, and yet, when push comes to shove, I know that there was nowhere else I would rather spend my summer than in that auditorium with those kids.

The Beatles: The Great Social Uniter

Earlier this week, my nerdy need to demonstrate my grasp of useless trivia reared its ugly head.  Because I knew the date of the Beatles' first appearance on Ed Sullivan (February 9, 1964), I won two tickets to see a Beatles cover band that was playing here in town.  What else was I going to do on a Saturday night?

As my sis and I took our seats, we looked around and kind of marveled at variety of people assembled in this one place.  There were the fan girls wearing their Beatles t-shirts and who seemed so excited that I kind of wondered if anyone had told them that the guys about to take the stage were not the REAL Beatles.  There was a large number of senior citizens, which seemed weird until I pointed out that the original Beatles fans are all eligible for social security.  I mean, Sir Paul did just turn 70.  There were hipsters, aging hipsters (a category my sister danced around placing me in), little kids there with parents (including one adorable little girl who spent most of the show dancing in the aisle), and my favorite concert-goer -- the obnoxious drunk.

This diversity is a testament to the music of the Beatles.  Can you imagine that kind of diversity at a Justin Bieber cover band concert?  It's not unusual, though, to find Beatles fans of any age.  As a music lover, I've always just kind of thought of the Beatles as a band you had to love if you love music if only out of appreciation for what they did to push music to develop.  They were musical auteurs, taking ownership in their music the way no other pop/rock acts ever had before.  They experimented with sound.  They played with orchestration and instrumentation.  They wrote these lyrics that had depth and poetry.  The band made their debut on Ed Sullivan in 1964 and were kaput by 1970.  What they accomplished musically in those six years is kind of mindblowing.  As I said to my sis during intermission last night, it's sort of incredible to realize that the band that recorded "She Loves You" would eventually produce songs as gorgeous and sophisticated as "A Day in the Life" or "The Long and Winding Road."  (My sis, of course, pointed out that drugs probably helped the process along, which made me wonder what would happen if someone kidnapped Justin Bieber and dosed him with some really crazy acid.....)

It's easy to take for granted the miraculous growth of the Beatles, particularly for people like me who have never lived in a Beatles-less world and yet have never lived in a world where the Beatles were still together.  (I'm really too young to even remember living in a world where it was possible that the Beatles could reunite -- I was 10 when John Lennon died.)  It's easy to kind of shrug them off and cling to one of the bands that rode the Beatles' coattails over to America.  For example, I always include the Rolling Stones on my top five band list but rarely include the Beatles, and yet every song that was played last night brought a smile to my face as a voice in my head gushed, "I love this song."  If spending an evening with a bunch of old guys in questionable wigs (but lovely costumes) did nothing else, it reconnected me with those songs and the memories attached to them -- and gave me the opportunity to twist and shout with a bunch of very excited elderly women.  That alone was a priceless Saturday night.

Idol, We Have a Problem

I didn't blog about Wednesday's Idol, mostly because my Thursday was just jam-packed, and by the time I could have sat down to write, it was time to actually watch the elimination episode. I went into last night's episode thinking that Hollie Cavanagh was likely on the way home. There was no doubt in my mind that she gave the weakest performance of the night. While I'm not a huge fan of Joshua or Jessica, I thought they were likely safe and that Hollie would be joined in the bottom three by Skylar (there is a real risk in going first, especially when the night is as solid as Wednesday's was) and (sadly) Phillip. When a group formed on the right side of the stage with Hollie, Phillip, and Colton, I honestly thought, "Yeah, that bottom three makes sense." Colton's performance of "Love the Way You Lie Part III" was okay but not particularly exciting. Colton seems rather content to float in the middle and never seems to really PUSH himself the way I think he could. Plus, his mushy articulation is really starting to seem affected and annoying. (Sorry ... I'm a speech teacher/coach!)

When Ryan announced that the bottom three was, instead, Joshua, Jessica, and Elise, the first thing I said was, "They're using the save tonight." There was no doubt in my mind that the judges would keep any of those three around. While Elise's performance wasn't the best of the night, it was strong enough to make a case that she should stick around. Yes, she's been a bottom three dweller for a couple weeks, but there's no denying the chick is terrific. Steven pretty much let the cat out of the bag before the announcement that Jessica had received the lowest number of votes; he told Ryan flat out that they were using the save. Boom!

What last night did -- other than giving Idol the shocking jolt elimination my sis argues it needed (and she's right on that -- we need those shockers to get the phone lines humming again) -- was prove that there are some real problems in the Idol machine, and they are problems that I'm not sure can be easily fixed.

PROBLEM #1: Teenage girls vote with their....hearts.
Look at how last night played out. You had a top four that consisted of two very cute guys, a perky little blonde underdog who'd been kind of brutalized the night before, and a country ass kicker with whom many girls out there can identify pretty powerfully. It seems pretty clearly understood that the majority of Idol votes tend to come from young girls. They're the ones spending hours power dialing and flooding the Internet to vote for the hottie or defend the honor of the girl who nearly cried onstage.

Teenaged girls also don't always respond well to a perceived perfection in someone else. I work with teenaged girls every single day. Nothing will turn a girl on you faster than doing well. I've seen friendships fall apart when one girl gets a boy's attention or when one girl gets a lead part in a show while her friend is cast in the chorus. In Jessica Sanchez, you have a pretty, skinny, crazy talented girl who probably is loathed by a lot of girls who deem her "stuck up." They'll vote for Hollie or Skylar (who seem either flawed or at least relatable to them) over Jessica any day of the week.

PROBLEM #2: Teenaged girls don't always have the best taste in music
Once again, last night, you had a top four that gave the demographic what they wanted. You had Hollie singing a Pink anthem of empowerment. Girls love empowerment anthems. You had Colton singing a love song that was JUST sexy enough to make them feel funny in their no-no places but not sexy enough to be creepy. You had Skylar singing a kickin' country tune. (Girls like country music.) You had Phillip being just really cute.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the stage, you had Jessica singing a song that was waaaaay too old for her, Joshua singing a song that could easily be played over the closing credits of Mad Men, and Elise rocking out. Girls don't like soul music unless it's autotuned by Rihanna. Had Joshua done one of Bruno Mars's more romantic songs (like "Grenade" or "It Will Rain"), he might have had a stronger chance of escaping the bottom three. Girls don't respond well to female rockers -- which is interesting considering what is more empowering than a chick rocking out? If you look at the history of the show, especially over the course of the past couple seasons (particularly since this run of cute guy winners has taken over), strong females don't play well on this show -- Carly Smithson, Allison Iraheta, Haley Reinhart were all incredible performers who probably should have made a stronger run at the title before getting kicked out waay too soon.

PROBLEM #3: Girls don't like other girls
This probably feeds into number one and the whole jealousy thing, but man, girls can really hate on each other! It's been years since an American Idol winner was female, and isn't it sort of telling that the last female winner was Jordin Sparks, who was this totally relatable, not-at-all perfect teenaged girl? Crystal Bowersox made it to the finale but lost to the cute paint salesman. Lauren Alaina made it to the finale last year but (mercifully.... I think) lost to the cute baseball player. Jessica, Hollie, Elise, and Skylar should all be a little nervous, particularly with two very cute guys still hanging around (and Joshua is pretty cute, too).

It kind of makes you wonder what's happened to Idol. Look at the first couple seasons of the show. Do you think Kelly Clarkson could win now, especially if she was still going up against the undeniably adorable Justin Guarini? Would the teen girl demographic allow Ruben to beat Clay? Could Fantasia or Carrie have carried the day? Good Lord, what about Taylor Hicks?!?!? Jimmy keeps telling us that the finale is going to come down to Jessica and Joshua, and on sheer talent alone, he's probably right, but neither Jessica nor Joshua seem to sing music that appeals to that teen girl market. Their voices and song selections skew much older to songs that are not things girls are clamoring to download on iTunes the next morning. It's becoming less and less like a true TALENT competition and more like a beauty pageant or Teen Choice Awards race. The problem then becomes that Idol loses its credibility and allows itself to become a joke -- more than it is already.

Is there a solution? I don't know. Somehow, Idol has to find a way to get more adults to vote, to get people with actual incomes to start deciding who gets to release the albums and who doesn't. Of course, it's easy for me to sit here and point that finger, but I'll be honest with you -- I've not voted once this season. Not once.

I'm part of the problem.

Crap.

Gag Me With an Idol

Last night was 80's night on Idol. I know over the past few years I have railed against the show for asking these kids to present themselves as current, viable, contemporary artists while forcing them to sing songs older than their parents, and yet, for some reason, 80's Night seemed less ridiculous to me than some of the other anciently themed nights. Perhaps it's because the 80's seemed like a time when music really started niche-ing itself a little more clearly, where the roots of so much of our own contemporary pop music can be found. There seems to be a wealth of styles and options, and for the most part, the Idols embraced that rather nicely.

Not that there weren't mis-steps (oh, little Hollie!), but there were some moments that definitely had be a little more excited than I've been lately. Of course, some of the reactions I had verge wildly from what the judges saw and felt, but for the most part, this seems like a pretty tough competition.

The rankings....

1. Phillip Phillips Yes, Skylar closed out the night in a really lovely, powerful fashion, but seriously, it was "Wind Beneath My Freakin' Wings." Who COULDN'T hit that out of the ballpark? What I loved about Phillip's performance was that he took a song that people may recognize but a song that's not necessarily a huge part of our pop culture landscape (although "That's All" by Genesis is a song I've always absolutely adored), added just enough of his own flavor, and gave a killer performance. When you factor in his amazing duet with Elise on "Stop Dragging My Heart Around," there's no denying this kid is the shizz. "That's All" became this empassioned, almost creepy song of betrayal that left me more than a little unsettled. As my sis said during the bridge, "Yeah, they'll be together 'til the end because he's going to freakin' KILL HER!" I know the judges want us to invest in a Jessica-Joshua finale, but come on! Phillip is definitely the more viable contemporary artist up there because he's ACTUALLY AN ARTIST rather than a really good karaoke singer. (Yeah, I said it!)
2. Skylar Laine Yes, Skylar was good. She was gorgeous. But again, "Wind Beneath My Wings...." SIGH!
3. Colton Dixon I'm not going to lie. Colton's appeal is waning for me. He seems like he might be a little arrogant. He seems like he's trying just a little too hard. It doesn't help that I've never been a huge fan of "Time After Time" (GASP! I KNOW!), although I did think it was classy for Colton to ignore Ryan's question about his new dye job to give props to the artists whose arrangement for the song he stole. Also, is it just me or is Colton's enunciation borderline drunken vagrant?
4. DeAndre Brackensick I know -- shocker! But I have to say that I thought DeAndre's performance was pretty decent. It helps that he didn't sing the entire song in his falsetto range, allowing his lower range to really shine. Seriously, if this kid had a little time, he could be a superstar, but he needs time for his voice to marinate -- time he's not going to get on this show. Had DeAndre entered this competition as a 21 year old, he'd be poised to become the next Justin Timberlake. As it is, he's probably going to be one of those "Oh, yeah! THAT guy!" types of guys.
5. Joshua Ledet You know, I get that Joshua is talented. I get his voice is amazing. But good Lord! It's just so MUCH! I get a little tired of the screaming and the wailing and the vocal gymnastics. Where does that fit in in today's market? WHERE!!?!?!? (Props, though, to the person brave enough to break into the local country club and steal the arm chair that was used to create Joshua's blazer last night.)
6. Elise Testone Bad song choice. Plain and simple. I had big hopes for Elise on 80's Night. Good Lord. There are SO many amazing female artists from the 80's to tackle -- Chrissie Hynde, Joan Jett, Pat Benetar, Lita Ford, Heart. And yet there was poor Elise taking on Foreigner's treacly "I Wanna Know What Love Is." Snooze. She had some pitch issues. She had some performance issues. Here's hoping her amazing duet with Phillip will save her because that was hot!
7. Jessica Sanchez It's time to call shenanigans on this one. I thought Jessica's performance of "How Will I Know?" was pretty terrible. There were all sorts of pitch issues -- issues that were NEVER called on her. When even your backup singers are giving you the stink eye for hitting wonky notes, you know you're in trouble, and yet all we heard last night from Randy and the gang was how brilliant Jessica was. Please!
8. Hollie Cavanagh And then there was poor little Hollie, pitch issues flying left and right as she wiggled her way around the stage in her little flapper dress trying to inject something interesting into "Flashdance (What a Feeling)". Oh, I was feeling something all right -- embarrassment for this poor, sweet little girl who is now SO out of her element. SIGH! Bye bye, Hollie. I don't think there's anything that can save you now -- not even Jane Fonda's old costume from 9 to 5 that you were forced to wear for your painful duet with DeAndre.