American Idol Hysteria
Almost 64 Million Votes. CONTESTANTS. Songs. Cheering. Simon. Paula. Randy. Burt Bacharach. Dionne Warwick. The artist currently known as Prince. And finally, Wednesday night, after two hours of glittery solo and group singing performances, a winner: Taylor Hicks was chosen as the new American Idol. He wins a record contract and at least 15 minutes of Idol fame.
Why the obsession over a television show? Maybe because it's high school all over again, these years when big dreams of glossy success are wholly appropriate. ``American Idol" is a big lush high school talent show. Popularity matters -- fiercely. Winning means looking and sounding great every time the camera gazes. There are beauties, nerds, talents, and fat kids all competing for the spotlight. Even better than in high school, the millions who have no chance of winning matter because they have the destiny-shaping power of voting. In the final showdown, millions of voters weighed in, most choosing Hicks and his soul sound over Katharine McPhee. The tribe -- to borrow a phrase from Survivor, a very different show -- get to speak without leaving the comfort of their couches and cordless phones.
And just as in any adolescent contest, the voting is not always kind nor merit-based. Pretty faces can beat out good voices. One off song can doom a would-be star. This leads to high school-style intrigue. Fans claimed a conspiracy was afoot when Chris Daughtry was voted off the show, despite his talent. Last year, tabloids speculated about who was the teachers' -- or in this case the judges' -- pet, when a contestant said he was having an affair with Paula Abdul, a judge. Did they? Paula says no. But like a good high school rumor, the possibility floated on.
Like the fashions? Go to Idol's website and shop for the contestants' clothes, from their leather jackets to their evening gowns. But here's a heart-breaking thing about high school and American Idol: They end -- with no promise of continued success. Winners can lose their fizzle. Losers mature into BMW-driving MBAs.
Fans can just move on, traveling in a merry caravan to next season's American Idol.
For Taylor Hicks, it's winning a handful of moonlight. It's lovely. And it's a better shot at a dream than he had before. But it's still only a shot. He'll need pluck and luck and loyal fans as he faces an even more grueling, untelevised contest of how to become a long-term American success.
Why the obsession over a television show? Maybe because it's high school all over again, these years when big dreams of glossy success are wholly appropriate. ``American Idol" is a big lush high school talent show. Popularity matters -- fiercely. Winning means looking and sounding great every time the camera gazes. There are beauties, nerds, talents, and fat kids all competing for the spotlight. Even better than in high school, the millions who have no chance of winning matter because they have the destiny-shaping power of voting. In the final showdown, millions of voters weighed in, most choosing Hicks and his soul sound over Katharine McPhee. The tribe -- to borrow a phrase from Survivor, a very different show -- get to speak without leaving the comfort of their couches and cordless phones.
And just as in any adolescent contest, the voting is not always kind nor merit-based. Pretty faces can beat out good voices. One off song can doom a would-be star. This leads to high school-style intrigue. Fans claimed a conspiracy was afoot when Chris Daughtry was voted off the show, despite his talent. Last year, tabloids speculated about who was the teachers' -- or in this case the judges' -- pet, when a contestant said he was having an affair with Paula Abdul, a judge. Did they? Paula says no. But like a good high school rumor, the possibility floated on.
Like the fashions? Go to Idol's website and shop for the contestants' clothes, from their leather jackets to their evening gowns. But here's a heart-breaking thing about high school and American Idol: They end -- with no promise of continued success. Winners can lose their fizzle. Losers mature into BMW-driving MBAs.
Fans can just move on, traveling in a merry caravan to next season's American Idol.
For Taylor Hicks, it's winning a handful of moonlight. It's lovely. And it's a better shot at a dream than he had before. But it's still only a shot. He'll need pluck and luck and loyal fans as he faces an even more grueling, untelevised contest of how to become a long-term American success.
posted by The Hollywood Bureau at Thursday, May 25, 2006
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