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Last year, AMERICA’S GOT TALENT was NBC’s #1 summertime show. (But really, what was it running against? Reruns of Deadliest Catch?) Somehow, in the time since little Bianca Ryan became the first to win producer Simon Cowell’s little side project, AGT became an international phenomenon, with versions in Germany, Greece, France, Sweden, Russia, Great Britain, Ukraine, Finland, Portugal, Israel, Austria, Mexico, Belgium (coincidentally, all countries where David Hasselhoff is considered a serious “musical artist”). Yes, way! Now, “the biggest talent show in the world” has returned, with a brand new host and judge. Jerry Springer and Sharon Osbourne (both veterans of the reality TV genre) join David Hasselhoff and Piers Morgan for another hilarious hodgepodge of high jinx, and for some reason, more spandex converging in one spot than should legally allowed.
Two Limeys, a Springer, and a Hoff
Traveling to Dallas, L.A., Chicago and New York, AGT scoured the country looking for talent. Of course whenever you scour, what do you end up with? Generally a lot more scum than good stuff. Hundreds of thousands auditioned and the show producers were open to seeing anyone; and they meant anyone, including the deluded and the desperate, the loonies and the losers…Hmm, sounds a lot like my old dating life back when I was single (you can see why I’m glad to have finally met my husband)!
This cavalcade of crazy curiousities (and the occasional true talent) is competing for the chance at stardom and a cool million dollar prize. The first round of auditions will result in a selection of acts that will compete against each other in the Las Vegas callbacks for a shot at being one of the 20 finalists in the studio performance rounds in Hollywood, where the judging will finally be placed in the hands of us, the American voting public.
Until then, the people with the power to make or break each act are the judges. Let’s meet this season’s panel. First off, David Hasselhoff is back. Legendary Knight Rider/Baywatch star, musical phenomenon, and one-time unofficial Wendy’s burger spokesman, David Hasselhoff says that he is “up to the challenge” of season two. He’s lucky he’s “up” at all, considering all the drunken carpet gazing he’s enjoyed in his off time. He feels AGT is about making people’s dreams reality, adding, “All I can say is, when you come to the show, bring it.” And by “bring it,” he means a Double Carpetburger with a large Coke. Bring it now, dangit, the Hoff is hungry!
Like a Die Hard sequel made flesh, Piers Morgan is “back with a vengeance.” This curmudgeonly, blunt, acerbic yet astute Englishman (remind you of anyone?) is “the most powerful newspaper editor in England” who has been associated with some of the biggest names in the world. Cue photo of Piers with Tony Blair (whose image does not exactly inspire much awe lately, if anyone in the American audience can even identify him, that is), Catherine Zeta-Jones, Ahnuld Governator, and Queen Elizabeth II. Is that the best they could do? You know what would impress me? A picture of Piers and Simon Cowell in the same room together, because until then I have it on good authority that they are the same person. (Either that, or they are brothers, and both of them are the “evil twin.”)
Since last season’s judge Brandy is busy killing people with her car, Sharon Osbourne has volunteered to step in. Mrs. Ozzie, manager, and star in her own rite after the reality TV hit The Osbournes made her the June Cleaver of our times, Sharon, we’re informed, is a powerful player in the music industry, considered “Hollywood’s multimillion dollar queen of entertainment.” She feels that on this show they will have the “power to change people’s lives.” Sharon does sound like she’s taking this seriously when she says it’s their job to search for a truly “unique” act that no one has ever seen before.
Ah, but there is a fourth judge for the audition rounds: the audience. All auditioning acts will perform in front of a crowd that is encouraged to cheer and boo to their hearts’ content. And don’t forget the X Factor. The three judges of the panel have X buzzers, and if all three go off, then your act is finito.
AGT Does Dallas
We start our search in Dallas. Thousands of showbiz hopefuls (alas, not a cheerleader in sight—perhaps they couldn’t raise the money?) have arrived for their shot at the big time, including, but not limited to, clowns, showgirls, Sparklemotion-type dance groups, Elvis impersonators, and yes, jugglers.
The first act is 46 year old Tony La Brea (from Los Angeles, CA—what, he couldn’t wait for the LA auditions?), who for all the world sounds exactly like Barry White. How I wish I could ask this guy to leave the outgoing message on my voicemail. He says people have walked right up to him and said, “Your voice does something to me.” And I think by that they mean: melt the chonies right off their derrieres. Like buttah, baby! Striding onstage in the curious outfit of a white bathrobe and brown fedora, Tony La Brea greets the judges with his distinctive, velvety bass voice, announcing that he is doing his own version of “Don’t You Wish Your Boyfriend Was Hot Like Me?” His song starts out well enough, basically Barry White doing the Pussycat Dolls (that came out sounding wrong)—but then it ends in a flurry of X’s once Tony’s suspicious white robe finally comes off to reveal Tony La Brea’s cuddly paunch in Chippendale-like collar and cuffs. The crowd is vicious, and so are the judges. “Can you do us all a favor and just put it away?” Piers says, quoting his wife on their wedding night. Piers admits, “The voice is very sexy; your big fat belly is not quite such a puller.” Sharon found Tony’s “creamy” voice “fabulous” (but X’ed him out anyway). So it’s a no from the judges and the Hoff dismisses Tony by saying, “I don’t wish my boyfriend would look like you.” Everyone knows the only man for The Hoff was The Regis.
When they say thousands auditioned in Dallas, I think a good portion of that number belonged in the gimungous family musical group, The Duttons. There are seriously like 73 people in this squeaky clean, intergenerational Good Time Family Band Solution. “You’ll have no money to split if you win,” the Hoff jokes. The Duttons, from Branson, Missouri, are fiddlin’, banjo-playing, dancin’ fools. They’re obviously skilled and energetic, but not my type of music. They’d be good for a hoe-down, a country fair, or a remake of Two Thousand Maniacs! The pièce de resistance comes when the five little children come out, like miniature versions of the adults, with instruments, dancing, and ginger hair. Piers X’es them out, comparing them unfavorably to the Osmonds. The Hoff sticks up for them, because, yeah, he believes in family values. Sharon loves them too, and says they’re “amazing.” Piers, who loves to break up families if you remember last season, thinks they only have a shot at winning if they streamline their act to only about 6 members (as opposed to 14, 15 if you count the drooling baby). “Are you prepared to sack half your family?” Piers asks, trying to strike a deal with the Duttons. They don’t have to, because they’ll advance thanks to David and Sharon.
Elvis has entered the building. Well, an Elvis lookalike, at least. Adam Aaron Michaels (Akron, OH) is an impersonator from the Fat Elvis era. The choking-on-a-fried-piece-of-bacon-in-his-underwear Elvis. The sort of Latter Day Hasselhoffian Elvis, if you will. The boos start as soon as Adam walks out on stage, and he is X’ed out by the judges before he even gets to the microphone. Sure he looks silly, but they didn’t even give the poor guy a chance? Jerry comes out as a champion for Adam, saying, “You don’t say to the King, ‘You can’t even start.’” Sharon believes that when you look that bad, you can. “How would you look if you’d been dead for 25 years,” Jerry responds. Okay, no longer helping! Piers doesn’t believe anyone here wants to hear him, but they decide to give him another chance anyway. He ironically sings, “Please Release Me, Let Me Go.” Which is exactly what they should have done the first time. He might actually be the first contestant to ever receive six X’es. This time Elvis leaves the building, for real.
I Believe the Children Aren’t Our Future
The Dallas auditions continue with comely 18-year-old Megan Miller from Beaumont, Texas. She might look like Claire from Heroes, but this girl’s talent is not that she’s indestructible. She says that give you a clue about her talent, “it’s an old talent that’s been revitalized and not a lot of women do it” and the kicker: “I use my hands and my mouth at the same time.” Keep your drawers on, Hoff! This girl is a ventriloquist! [men in audience look disappointed] Accompanied by her puppets, Avenue Q rejects Abner and Shannon, Megan sings “Supercalifragilisticexpialido cious” to the prompt X’ing of Piers but finishes her act to earn a standing ovation from the audience. Piers thinks her act is great for kids but “annoying” for adults; the Hoff begs to differ, finding her “charming.” Sharon agrees with Piers that the act is really more for children, but admits Megan is good at what she does. The audience boos Sharon, causing her to shush them and tell them to “behave.” She does give Megan a pass through to Vegas, saying she hopes that Megan will show them “something else.”
In the waiting room, there is apparently a proliferation of young singers in the vein of past AGT winner Bianca Ryan. In fact,12-year-old Erica Marks (Sugarland, TX) thinks she is the next Bianca, if not better. When she tells the judges that she will be performing “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going,” the Hoff even remembers that as Bianca’s song from her auditions. The response seems to indicate that she is no Bianca Ryan. Erica is X’ed out swiftly by Piers (who is obviously not shy about using his buzzer), and then booed by the audience. But the angry mob turns around when she gets to the big finish and cheers here. Piers tells Erica that Bianca was “modest,” “charming” and “super talented” and in comparison, “You are everything she isn’t.” Ah Piers, definitely not a child act himself, he pulls no punches in telling little Erica off. He then launches off on a tirade over how “annoyed” he is that someone would dare imitate the past winner right down to the song choice, declaring that if all they’re going to have for season two is a “bunch of Bianca Ryan wannabes” then he wants no part of it. Sharon confesses that she personally finds it “weird” to see little girls singing and moving like big women (I also find it off-putting to hear the song Effie sings to Curtis at the end of their affair sung with such gusto by pre-adolescents), but Sharon accentuates the positive by saying she really can sing. The Hoff thinks she chose the wrong song, but did command the stage. Still, the panel gives a unanimous “No,” but not without Sharon chiding Piers for being so harsh to a child. “You don’t have to beat her up before you throw her off,” Sharon says (this time pulling a quote from the Hoff’s sex life).
54-year-old Mr. Bill is a professional school bus driver and singer that, if one were to judge by appearance, most people wouldn’t want anywhere near their children. He might be a perfectly lovely fellow, but his non-descript looks seem to be made for the sketch artist’s pad. He sings “Climb Every Mountain” in a soporific voice that one only hopes he doesn’t use to lull unsuspecting kiddies into a deep comatose state. The fickle audience both boos then cheers then boos him. He is X’ed out by, guess who, Piers, who commends him for his “guts” in performing. Sharon thinks he’s a nice guy who deserves a break, but the Hoff thinks he has no chance of winning and says no. Piers says no, but does flatter Mr. Bill by saying that if this were a contest of personality and not talent, Mr. Bill would win. Oh no, Mr. Bill! I guess you’re not going to Vegas.
Mr. Bill is a natural segue into the montage of rejects: a group of dribblers (basketball dribblers that is) who get X’ed out, lots of crying girls wearing too much make up, a number of strange, inscrutable acts, drummers dropping drumsticks, and tap-dancing little children. Sharon is getting increasingly cross with Piers for his brutal diatribes, particularly towards the child acts. “I want to cry,” she tells him, thinking about the horrible things he’d say that would upset full grown adults, much less tender tots. Piers is unrepentant. He is no Mickey Mouse.
Next up, the “Human Slinky” from Orlando, FL. The gigantic, multicolored slinky containing a gyrating human being inside is, well, it’s creepy. Maybe it’s the way it seems to throb organically to the pulsing techno music, or perhaps it’s the resemblance to a flabby, middle age backside, but it’s disturbing like a nightmarish LSD hallucination. Cranky Piers X’es him out, then the Hoff, finally even Sharon gives him the big bad buzz. Out pops the man from the slinky. Sharon finds the act “unique,” Piers again thinks it would be a fine kiddie act but not appropriate for this show, the Hoff calls it “a giant colon called berserk.” There’s your pull-out quote of the season! “I felt like I was being attacked by the inside of a human body,” Hoff adds, veering dangerously into Oversharing Territory. The Human Slinky slinks offstage with a unanimous no.
The following acts (from Coral Springs, FL) auditioned last year together. Having no success as a couple, this time they’re going to try their luck split up. Ari Marks is a gypsy violinist whose fiddling skills make Piers wince, but keep the crowd pumped. Ari eventually gets 3 X’es. Despite rejecting her, the Hoff thinks she’d be “entertaining” in, say, a restaurant—albeit it one he would never go to. Piers thinks “the sound you were making was like a lobster being boiled alive.” Piers even remembers her from last year, saying her husband was even worse. Aaand cue dear husband Nicholas Marks, whose classical guitar gets applause from the audience. Piers thinks he X’ed him prematurely, telling Nicholas that he got better while his wife got worse. All the judges seem to agree, because Nicholas gets in to the next round, while his wife does not.
Summer Breeze, Doesn’t Make Piers Feel Fine
Piers is getting testy. He feels the judges need to be “more brutal” as “too much mediocrity” is getting in. Next up, a montage of Piers’ victims, acts he is X’ing out, stomping all over, and spitting upon, like the 10-year-old ventriloquist, the smoking puppeteer, the “pointless” juggler, a “fish”-like clapper, two young girls who look and sound like little drag queens…
Then, in blows a Breeze that Piers doesn’t find so cool. I can understand why. This 9-year-old girl from Carson, NV comes in with too much make up and an outfit that’s inappropriate for her age, coupled with crimped hair that is inappropriate for any age. Look, just because you gave your daughter a name that makes her sound like a stripper doesn’t mean she has to look like one. To make it worse, Breeze does a “competition cheerleading routine” that her overbearing stage mom is simultaneously pantomiming doing backstage. She gets 3 X’es. Piers is “uncomfortable” with this performance, sensing that many of the children are doing things their parents are “pushing” them to do. He suspects Breeze’s mother’s end game is the million bucks and a new car.
Sharon puts her foot down and decides to judge her fellow judge, telling him that his words are “a bit strong” and looking truly upset, ponders aloud, “I didn’t sign up for this, Piers.” The precocious Breeze defends her mom by saying, “She didn’t push me, she helped me.” Jerry brings the mother out to defend herself, but Piers is unconvinced. He continues his diatribe against Breeze and her mother, until Sharon, fed up with the way he’s put the little girl and her mom “on trial” throws her cards up in the air and walks out of show in disgust. Piers follows after her, as Sharon storms off, yelling “I’ve had it!”
Is this just a publicity stunt? Well, you know Sharon is serious when she starts ripping off her false eyelashes. “I’m taking off my make up and I’m going home,” she murmurs angrily backstage. Piers follows her to her dressing room, but the door is locked. He then berates her for “revolting” like a “13-year-old” and describing her actions as “pathetic.” Through the door, Sharon can be heard unloading on someone, telling them what has transpired is “shameful” and “I’m gonna end up firing myself by tomorrow.”
A decision still must to be made regarding Breeze, however. The Hoff, the lone judge left on the panel, says he has to vote from his “heart” and unfortunately he doesn’t think Breeze is ready for the competition. Backstage, Sharon has finally come out of her dressing room and the two Brits are squabbling. They each maintain that they found each others’ behavior offensive. Sharon agrees to come out byt begs Piers to simply say no and stop torturing the girl.
Sharon, back on panel, apologizes to Breeze like a parent about to announce a divorce: she is sorry for walking out, “because it was nothing to do with you, sweet girl.” Breeze, eerily self-possessed for her age, tells Sharon, “It’s okay.” Piers has his tail tucked in between his legs, finally; he also apologizes. “I’m sorry if I upset you, I don’t like upsetting young children,” Piers says, pointing out that he has three young children himself. He says that he has a son Breeze’s age, and if he was at the same level as Breeze, Piers would tell him that he’s not ready to be in front of an audience of millions. “That’s the point I was trying to make, in my clumsy English way.” “Okay,” Breeze says, taking the whole thing calmly. Ultimately, however, it’s a no from all the judges, even Sharon, who despite finding Breeze “supple” doesn’t feel she’s ready for the show yet either. Breeze thanks Sharon and adds, “Don’t worry I will,” when Sharon hopes aloud that the girl will try again next year. Full grown adults would be crying at a situation like this, so bravo to little Breeze for handling it like a champion.
Snakes on a Stage
Well, as fun as that was, the show must go on! The vocal group Southern Girl (from Houston TX) are a sexy trio of singers who win the judges over with their a capella harmonizing and sultry performance. They are a big hit with all the judges. Sharon thinks they’re “nicely presented” and “look great together.” The Hoff finds them “beautiful” and “Loved their harmonies.” Piers, finally pleased, imagines the young Supremes might have looked and sounded something like Southern Girl. He says that this the kind of act that AGT’s all about, and they’re “stars.” Safe to say we will be seeing more of Southern Girl in the competition to come.
Then there are more crappy XXX acts. Yo-yo wielding couples, scary songs to ex-boyfriends, and finally a man who climbs into a bag filled with snakes onstage. The Hoff says the judges have “conquered our fear of saying no.” In other words, they’re tried of these mothah@#$* snakes on a mothah@#$* stage!
We’re at that point in the show when I wonder why we need this second hour. Did we need to see the apoplectic accordionist? The delusional, possibly mentally disabled disco dork, “Bronzon Gold”?
Fallon Franklin from Austin, TX is a beautiful blonde musician who shares that she was born with palsy which did not allow her to move the entire right side of her palsy. The doctor had told her that she would never be able to play guitar or jump rope, but against the odds, Fallon can do both today. She’ll only be doing one of those things onstage for us tonight, and that’s play the guitar in her bare feet while singing Jewel’s “Who Will Save Your Soul.” I actually haaate Jewel Kilcher, but Fallon is so sweet I want her continue in the competition but sing anything but Jewel. Sharon loves how “organic” Fallon is (what is she, a tomato?); Piers is charmed by her looks, saying she sings as good as she looks; the Hoff could tell Fallon was nervous, but tries to relax her by saying they’re just people. “But you’re the Hoff, man!” Fallon exclaims. No need to be intimidated by the Hoff, Fallon, you’re going to Vegas!
When hunky, shirtless, fiery-haired Brandon Pereyda (Las Vegas, NV) takes the stage to a deafening roar of lust-induced catcalling, Piers already hates him. “You’re far too good looking,” Piers grumbles. Brandon is more than a pretty face (and pretty pecs, and pretty biceps, and pretty six-pack abs, etc.), he is an aerialist. His act starts with him ascending on sheets suspended from the ceiling, looking quite angelic. He winds up and down, stops in breathtaking poses midair, then drops down dangerously and suddenly, close to the floor before concluding his act. Piers is the only one to X him, but even Sharon admits he looked too nervous, as if he didn’t rehearse enough. The Hoff doesn’t feel Brandon is ready for the show yet either, but has potential. So it’s a no from all the judges, but Sharon invites him to practice at her house anytime.
Much Adu About Nothing and Other Acts For the Dogs
The next act, Sam from Los Angeles, CA, feels he is “the next break out star.” Sam Adu does the Stevie Wonder song “I Wish” and his performance makes me wish they would bid Adu a fast farewell. My wish is promptly granted, and the judges bid a prompt adieu to Adu.
Jabbawockeez Crew (from Van Nuys, CA) is a cool multicultural hip hop dance troupe in blue baseball caps and scary white masks, a la Halloween’s Michael Myers. They are hip hop dancers with a performance art vibe, like Blue Man Group, with more flava. They get a standing ovation from the audience, nary an X, and shockingly, Mr. CrankyPants Piers loves their unique act and choreography, while the other judges play picky. The Hoff feels like they didn’t quite take it to the level he’d like, Sharon also feels like they weren’t quite spot on, but wants to give them a chance. Nevertheless, all the judges say yes, Jabbawockeez is a group they’d like to see in the next round.
Next up is a dog act, “Bob & His Amazing Mongrels,” for which Sharon takes her pooch out as an expert guest judge. Bob Moore (Bloomington, CA) has been working with dogs for years, all of them rescues from the pound. As cute as the dogs are, the act is a bit chaotic and I can’t blame Piers and the Hoff for X’ing it early on. There’s just too many dogs up there, it’s not clear what’s going on with all that fur flying onstage. There is one showstopper, however, when one fuzzy fellow, a Chewbacca-looking mutt, balances atop a rope on his hind legs for a good long period of time. The Hoff commends Bob for rescuing the dogs, but says the act was “pandemonium”; Piers concurs, saying only two of the dogs were truly talented and “the other eight, back to the pound.” The only one to say yes to Bob is Sharon, but it’s not enough. No more Moore and his Mongrels on AGT.
Little Rascals to Mr. Big
The Rascals (Memphis, TN) are a group that wants to put a “younger spin on older music.” Dressed in snazzy matching suits with Pepto Bismol pink ties, these three young moptops do visually recall an earlier era of music. How will they sound onstage? They do a version of “Shout” accompanied only by a tambourine and synchronized dance moves that proves to be a big hit. Piers likes that they are well-rehearsed and choreographed, and feels they exude at least some star potential. Sharon would like to hear them sing something contemporary but also points out that she heard a few voices cracking, messing up the vocals. Could puberty ruin the Rascal’s chances at the million? The Hoff will let them through if they promise to take it to the “next level.” Sharon is the heavy here, saying no, they’re not ready. It’s down to Piers, who hesitates, also wondering if they’re ready yet, but Piers is feeling magnanimous, and lets them through for one more chance in Vegas.
For the next act, an adult man and his younger, pre-pubescent mini-me in hideous spandex unitards take the stage. Jordan and Nasko are a father-son acrobatic team that actually has a pretty impressive balancing act (talk about parents balancing work and children, yuk yuk), the highlight of which is the the son standing on one hand above his father’s head. It is really quite amazing, they simply need new costumes. The Hoff found their act “beautiful”; Piers actually loved their costumes, and deems their act “brilliant.” It’s a unanimous YES for Jordan and Nasko.
Things are winding down. The Lettermans (David and John of Phoenix, AZ) are a duo known as the “Pec Brothers” who make their hairy chests move to the music of “Dueling Banjos.” It’s a strange sight to see these two absolutely stony-faced, sweaty, bald middle-aged men with their hairy bear bodies exposed, moving their pectoral muscles in time to the song from frickin’ Deliverance. This is rated triple X by the judges. Sharon suggest they wax, which would improve the act greatly. Hasselhoff asks if they have other songs they do, to which one brother replies, “It all looks the same.” Not surprisingly, the Pec Brothers will not be coming back.
There is a run of bad stand-up acts, followed by one final performer. Will the show end on a high note for the lengthily-named Andrew, Mr. Big “Who’s the Guy” Beal of Benicia, CA? Well, dances like a wet noodle flapping in a strong wind, but the lanky guy can sure blow a horn. He’s an entertaining saxophonist that gets the crowd excited with his energetic onstage antics. He earns himself a Standing O, and even the judges seem fond of him. Piers likes the way he “sprang to life like someone injected you with acid…I have genuinely never seen anybody play the sax like that and I thought it was great fun.” Sharon likes that he “owned” the stage and likes how “happy” he is. She then purrs into the microphone that she is “intrigued” by him. Oh, Sharon, behave! The Hoff is laughing hysterically, and says he was genuinely “entertained.” Mr. Big is the big success story of the night. And on that note, we’re done with Dallas. Next week: Los Angeles. Will the city of angels prove heaven or hell for our judges? Only time will tell.
I’m great for a kid’s act, but not appropriate for adults: snowflakegirl@fansofrealitytv. com
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