Oh, America. I just can’t stay mad at you. Last week you let me down with the anti-Cloris vote, but you made up for it a million times over in another type of vote this week, and for that, I am ecstatic. I’m even looking forward to this results show, this hour that is traditionally a styrofoam peanut in the cardboard box of entertainment, with something like optimism. Yes, y’all, I think we’re in for some bubble wrap tonight!
As Tom says, the performance show was the wildest night so far of the season – like a rollercoaster it was, with the dazzling highs of the first perfect score, and the vomit-inducing lows of the team dancing. Or one team’s dancing, anyway. The gulf between the winners and the losers on the leader board is as wide as it has ever been, which Tom seems to think makes for some unpredictability in tonight’s results. That’s not quite how probabilities work, Tom. But I’ll let it slide, because you’re funny sometimes. Plus you’re now telling me DanceCenter’s back in the house.
They bother with the clip show of the performances, but MsFroggy, my snarky partner in recappage, has already made with the details so we don’t have to watch.
Chit Chat Combat
Tom calls Len “King of Constipated Commentary,” and I don’t know what that means, but Len and the other judges laugh so clearly they’re all crazy in the same way. Len announces that Team Warren’s paso doble was even more exciting than the election, so we’ve got to see that again. It’s as cool as it was last night, but a little looser because there are no scores to be had afterwards. Cheryl’s intensity still can’t be beat, and you still can’t quite tell that Brooke is an amateur. High fives again for them.
After commercials, we find Hard-hitting Backstage Reporter Samantha sitting with everyone divided into their respective teams. She must’ve missed Monday’s picking of balls out of hats, because she asks Susan why she picked Lance and Lacey first for her team. Susan interviews like a pro, saying nice things about L&L’s freshness, and so on. Cody gives props to Team Paso and everyone claps. Samantha wants more competitiveness and drama, and so tells them all to stop being so nice. Yes, dear, because that’s what’s making your interviews so tedious. Then Warren says the secret to his team’s success was the awesomeness of their pros. Then Samantha drops the bomb that next week the stars will all have to dance a solo rendition of one of their Latin dances. Guh? I know they’re just trying to shake things up and broaden viewership, but we’ve already gone through whole group, small group, and partner; I don’t think we really need to see solos. DWTS will have to learn in much the same way as American Idol that you can’t be all things to all people, and that you can’t do everything within the scope of just one cheesy amateur talent show. Mo confesses that the thought of taking to the floor without Cheryl has him kind of nervous, but he’s excited nonetheless.
Bubble Wrap, Ahoy
Now to distract
usme and me alone from any thoughts of remorse at missing Cloris out there dancing by herself is the perennially pleasant Lionel Richie. Hello, Mr. Richie! Ahaha. I wonder how come he still looks the same as ever and not any older. Maybe they just painted that clay bust of him and attached it to a robot, and we’ve all been fooled for so long. Or maybe it’s the curl juice keeping him young. I ponder this mystery as Lionel sings his new single “Good Morning,” and Alec and Edyta swan out to accompany him with a lovely something or other that might be a rumba in theory.
Thanks to the team dance, the standings are all wacky; Cody and Edyta at the bottom with 42 and Brooke and Derek at the top with 59 are not so out of place, but everyone in the middle got their ranking shook up a bit by the huge skewing that the difference in the team scores made. Maurice and Cheryl were near enough to the top to be the first couple declared safe.
We come back with DanceCenter. Kenny Mayne and Jerry Rice have had their usual fun playing in the makeup backstage, also they’ve got rhinestones on like their faces like it’s a street fair, and Jerry’s wearing a ridiculous (and lop-sided, dude; where’s your pic?) afro wig. DANCMSTR Len is there too, but far too much of a DANCMSTR to have any fun with the blush. Kenny ribs him about maybe being replaced by Michael Flatley; I bet Michael at least would’ve slapped on some eye-liner. Then Kenny asks Jerry what he thinks of Warren, giving Jerry the opportunity to playfully-but-bitterly-but-playfully chide Warren for having seriously injured him once. Then they make fun of Warren winking like a doof all the time, and Len starts rambling about how Warren’s a “big, bundle of joy,” before Kenny cuts him off and says something about how he’s doing way better on his own show which you can watch somehow. Jerry then continues the shilling by plugging “Jerry Curl” brand styling gel. Hilarious. If I thought it were real, I’d suggest he get Lionel to be his spokesperson because that would be a match made in cheesy TV show heaven.
Next up for skewering is the apparently teeny-tiny Susan, who Kenny says is disadvantaged by her size, as we watch her being blown away by a blast from the studio’s air conditioner. Len reminds us that Susan is also old, but she’s neat and classy, if a tad dull on the dance floor. Kenny says then that she’s “serviceable” like a race horse, and Len asks why he has to be so vulgar. “This is what we do,” Jerry deadpans. And as evidence, Kenny takes a parting shot at Susan’s partner Tony and his huge sleazy smile before moving on to Maurice. Len loves his verve in the Latin dances, but laments his finesse in the traditional ones. Kenny wants to dwell on the time Mo blew a kiss at Len. Len says, “I liked it,” with an insouciant little shrug, and I think it’s wise of them to choose that moment for a break.
Sleight of Ham
Guest dance now. There’s been shockingly little hype about it so far and not a single promise that it will kill us dead with its awesomeness, which by the law of inverses must mean that this will be the best one ever. It’s put together by Dave Scott and all about hip hop moves and “magic.” Here, magic means vast quantities of smoke, old-timey woven coats, many colorful scarves, and lots of ruffled shirts. Some ladies try to dance while swallowing swords, then a contortionist tries to dance while contorting, and then two guys come out with their heads stuck in boxes, while two others spin the boxes around for dramatic effect. And it’s all done in the gaudiest way imaginable, with flashlights appearing for some reason, and did I mention a metric ton of smoke? I pronounce it weird, but equally as watchable as somebody pulling a rabbit out of her hat.
Ace in the Droll
DanceCenter resumes now to go over the last three couples. Kenny wants to know if Len thinks Lance is the worst dancer here as he was labeled in N’Sync; Len diplomatically says he’s not. Then they talk about how Lance and Lacey are starting to intuit each other like an old married couple, which is kind of sweet. Kenny asks Len if Lance should give up dance and be a Communist Cosmonaut since he trained to go into space with the Russians. Oh, Kenny. Communism is just a red herring. Plus, Sarah Palin surely has the Russian space program on lock by now. Then we get a joke about Brooke having “20-30 children,” and then Jerry and Kenny sleaze out over some old travel footage of her; Len chastises them before kind of sleazing out over her form and her prowess on the floor. Then we get a shot of her extra-tense and sinewy legs, and Kenny renounces all his former appreciation of Brooke as a looker. Gross. I now renounce all my … oh wait, I never thought Kenny was a looker in the first place. Never mind. Last up is Cody who is reportedly 18, but Kenny says he looks 12, and acts 5. Len argues that he is adorable and says you can’t be too critical of an eighteen year old. I wish someone had told that to my Econ prof back in my freshman year. Kenny will not stand for Cody getting a pass, so he zeroes in on Cody’s weird eyebrows and how people love them so much there are fansites about them. Cut to Len wearing taped-on Cody Brows. Cue uproarious laughter. Len then says something about Cody’s holds being weak across the board, and Kenny tries to defend the boy. When Len snaps back about Kenny having only having lasted long enough to turn in one “poor cha-cha-cha,” Kenny says, “Yep, that’s how easy it is in this country.” Too true, as evidenced by my becoming a top literary scholar after only staying at a Holiday Inn Express. (Look for my critically acclaimed manifesto, Everything You Think You Know Is Wrong, in bookstores near you.)
Now for some reason there are Len and Kenny coupling up on a dance floor painted with yard lines, to talk about the proper placement of bony knobs. Yup.
Ceiling to Floor
More results: Brooke and Derek and Warren and Kym are all safe from the red light of doom. All the couples from Team Cha Cha are stuck waiting for daring to turn in a lackluster performance.
Here’s Lionel Richie again, super-excited and in a black jacket with sequined lapels (!) to sing “Dancing on the Ceiling” while Kym and Tony and Maks and Cheryl do an extremely fierce cha cha that features lots of sparkly pink fringe, undone shirt buttons, baby oil, and Maks without hair. I love when there are two pro dances. Enough even to soften the blow of being hit with a filler package immediately afterward. All the stars talk about how it’s hard to do the show in many ways, but also easy in just as many ways. Injuries, judges, lights, time; dress-up, partners, sexiness, sparkles, and there you have it.
The Little Box Goes Back to the Hillside
And now for our ultimate results. Lance and Lacey are declared safe, leaving Susan and Tony and Cody and Edyta suffering in the bottom two. After a rather dramatic and long-winded prologue about this being the seventh week of the seventh season, wherein the fatted calf must be loosed into the desert to grow thin, Tom reveals that it is Susan leaving us this week. She slaps on a big smile, hugs Tony, and gives a similarly long-winded speech about how much she loved commuting between coasts and twisting her ankle, and graciously thanks the voters and Tony. I’m kind of still too pumped about the real world to be sorry for Susan’s departure, but even I can recognize that sending her off to “”Hit the Road Jack” is pretty discourteous. Sorry, Susan.
Tune in next week to see the much-anticipated solo outings of our stars; I’m guessing there will be no lifts.
Which is the more awful exit song: "Hit the Road Jack" or "Bad Day"? Cast your vote here.