America loves a talent show. The preening, the judging, the humiliations and exposés, and ultimately the voting – it’s the election process writ small. And with more skin.
There are now enough television talent shows to suit nearly every constituency.
“American Idol” looks for voice, “Grease” for voice and dancing. “Pussycat Dolls,” starting tonight, looks for sleaze.
On “American Idol” it’s about the pipes and a potential star quality. Voice makes or breaks the contestants, although clothes can get in the way. The Fox megahit really is in a transparent way the “star-maker machinery” Joni Mitchell sang about. The vocal chops pop out, and the industry handles the rest. As Simon Cowell told LaKisha this week, “I think at this stage you can afford to believe that you are going to be a big star.”
“Grease: You’re the One That I Want” requires contestants to have the total package: singing, dancing and a certain stage presence. The good dancers who can’t sing have a better chance than the trained singers who don’t move well. But overall performance counts most. The chosen Danny and Sandy will be carefully groomed for the parts. The coolest judge, 2006 Tony Award-winning director/choreographer Kathleen Marshall, said she could make any of the semi-finalists work. NBC will air the finale March 25.
For “Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll,” debuting tonight at 8 p.m. on KWGN-Channel 2, it’s about the nasty.
“Loosen up my buttons, babe,” indeed.
Contestants know the lingerie is as important as the basic aerobic-class movements. The CW series starts with 18 girls, most of whom flaunt strong abs, eensy skirts and lascivious expressions – not great artistry. The eventual winner will perform as the seventh member of a Pussycat Dolls “franchise” in Las Vegas, fusing singing with shades of burlesque.
The producers got lucky with the pilot. A virus runs through the group, and the camera actually catches girls throwing up, being treated by a doctor and, in one case, getting intravenous fluids.
The tears, the germs! This is down-and-dirty reality TV.
“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?”
To be fair, some contestants can sing to the standards of this manufactured girl group. That doesn’t mean they’ll be selling solo recordings. But they are able to keep up the rhythm and match the movements established by Robin Antin, the group’s creator and choreographer.
For her part, Antin uses the eight-episode Pussycat Dolls contest as her own looking glass. She turns her appearances into a personal forum, demanding and eating up the adoration of the wannabes.
She knows the business. The Dolls have sold nearly 6 million records. Their debut album sent five singles to the top of the charts. Not bad for a silly idea that started as girls’ night out at a Los Angeles club.
Nobody’s suggesting the next Jennifer Hudson is in the wings.
“We’re having fun with this concept,” Ron Fair, chairman of Geffen Records and a judge and executive producer on the series, told a press conference. “We’re just enjoying our success and playing with the brand.”
Antin said body parts don’t make or break the contenders. “I look for a lot of different types of women. It could be a woman who she just happens to be really skinny or she happens to be more voluptuous …” Antin sells the concept as aspirational: “There’s so many different types of ‘Pussycat Dolls’ in the world, and that’s what is so inspiring to women. The message is just finding your inner Doll.”
Grammy winner Lil’ Kim, fresh from a federal detention center and a judge on the series, said, “A lot of the girls always tell me that they pattern a lot of the things they do after me and my career and my success … Being able to show your sexiness and your sensual side is something that all women like to kind of bring forward at one point in time.”
Most of the critics present were dubious.
“My daughter’s almost 17,” one writer said, “and just to be devil’s advocate, she just sees this all as a giant step back for women. Why should young girls aspire to dress up like skanks and sing ‘Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”‘
“There’s nothing skanky about it,” Antin replied.
We’ll be the judge of that.
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-954-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
