Posted on 05/23/2003 9:58:35 PM PDT by Mister Magoo
May. 23, 2003. 01:00 AM
Ruben's big night on Idol plays small
VINAY MENON
"I feel great. Thank y'all. I love y'all."
After uttering those not-so-memorable words, Ruben Studdard stared ahead, almost blankly, as rivulets of sweat dribbled down his ample forehead.
Inside L.A.'s Universal Amphitheater, as hot lights illuminated his stunned face, giddy fans hollered and clapped, chanting, "Ru-ben! Ru-ben! Ru-ben!" a two-syllable hallelujah to pop culture's newest demigod.
The big man with the big voice was the big winner as one of television's biggest hits capped another big season.
Too bad it seemed so small.
In what may have been the highest-rated infomercial in television history, American Idol closed out with plenty of gimmicks, filler and artificial hype. But not much in the way of compelling viewing.
Building a live, two-hour broadcast around a two-second announcement is never wise. But this week's finale even managed to out-do last year's Kelly versus Justin showdown in terms of yawn-inducing dreck.
There were flashbacks and lowlights, including a retrospective montage of the tone-deaf warblers who were previously eliminated. There were painfully lame product placements masquerading as faux music videos. There were lots of commercials. There were cheesy sketches involving the judges.
It was about as entertaining as a trip to a Chernobyl grocery store. And maybe more toxic.
The problem, of course, is that about halfway through last season's debut, as American Idol morphed organically into a cultural phenomenon, the show ceased to be a grassroots talent competition and instead tumbled into the abyss of commercial excess.
Now wait a minute, say defenders. The fact that Ruben — a 350-pound, perspiration-challenged, fashion disaster from Birmingham — won proves that image doesn't matter.
No, it proves that winning doesn't matter.
Just before the winner was announced, as Ruben stood nervously beside Clay Aiken, the other semi-finalist, judge Simon Cowell made a telling remark.
"The big battle is coming," he said. "We are going to put their records out the same week. That's going to be the big challenge."
Translation: This finale, in which more than 24 million votes were cast, is just an opportunistic exercise in pre-marketing publicity. (The reality is that both Clay and Ruben already have record deals with the RCA Music Group.)
So, despite all the torqued suspense, the ending was inconsequential. Though, give host Ryan Seacrest points for trying to elevate the proceedings, especially his attempt to mimic the anticipation of a presidential election.
As the finale dragged on, we learned that Clay had won New York, Ruben had taken Alabama. Clay captured Ohio, Ruben dominated Florida. (Florida? Maybe Clay should ask for a recount.)
But I digress.
American Idol, it turns out, is plastic spectacle at its most spectacular. It's a show that pretends to be in search of one idol but is really more interested in stoking the cultural embers of mass idolization.
Kelly Clarkson, the 20-year-old Texan who won the first series, is now a household name. Her first album, appropriately titled Thankful, has already sold more than one million copies since it debuted at No. 1 about a month ago.
But don't be fooled. This success says less about Clarkson's talent and more about how celebrity is carefully manufactured these days. (Did you notice how uninspired and flat she sounded Wednesday night when she sang "Miss Independent?")
Perhaps this is why the show is such a favourite with other celebrities. During Wednesday's finale, there were many familiar faces in the crowd, including, Olivia Newton-John, Neil Sedaka, Sugar Ray Leonard, and Michael Chiklis. Comments even arrived from Wanda Sykes, Regis Philbin and, goodness, Quentin Tarantino.
No other "reality" program now showcases America's fixation with fame and celebrity and wealth to the same extent.
"Life is an audition," remarked Paula Abdul, the sickly sweet, Pollyanna judge.
No, Paula, life is a commercial.
vmenon@thestar.ca
American Idol is very rare in that it's a show that my wife & I actually watch and follow along with our teenagers. Young folks singing older "classic" songs from the 60's, 70's, 80's, and 90's. Lots of older singing star judges too. We get the opportunity of explaining to our teens who Gladys Knight, Lionel Ritchie, or Neil Sedaka are.
Something for the whole family - young and old, and for the most part it's fairly decent family-level programming (at least as much as you can expect these days). Granted it's a shameless self-promotion exercise for the recording industry, but it's fun.
I tend to agree, though I was really disappointed in the sketch with Paula and Simon. I thought the content was too suggestive/sexual, considering the age of the audience. They could have given the same message in a much more G rated version. (And no, I'm not a prude. Just very disappointed that everywhere you turn, it's out there. But why should I be surprised!)
I think the idea of this article is to say "Hey Canada! Look what is headed our way beginning June 11th!"
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