Are we all in favor of democracy now?
We, the people. Weed the people, perhaps.
As Gev and Kherington wafted off into the night with their ever tightening eyes and bottoms squeezing their disappointment shut, can one really believe that the So You Thigh You Can Dance voters chose well?
Perhaps the most obvious question is: “If Comfort was the worst of the girls last week, what changed?”
Here’s a couple of things.
One, the people voted. And there has never been much of a history of singing and dancing reality show voters casting their text messages for pretty girls.
Forgive me for sounding a little on the cynical side, but I suspect the majority of the voters are women slightly less pretty than, say, Kherington. They are perhaps slightly more likely to cast aspersions in her direction rather than votes.
Secondly, may I raise the subject of the choreography just for a few breaths?
There exists a slightly sycophantic tendency on the part of Hell’s Teeth, Tia and Maria to begin their critiques by praising the choreography. This is often used as the precursor to declarations of the dancers’ shortcomings.
However, Mark and Kherington’s jazz, er, reggae, er, what the hell was that, routine enjoyed the choreography of the Idea-Free Zone.
Mark and Kherington wafted their way through as if impersonating blind people in a black-walled room.
It was almost as if they thought if they kept on going, somewhere, in some tiny corner of the stage, they would find the meaning of their meanderings.
To precede that by slipping them the Two Step was a particular form of cruelty not dissimilar to a contractor accidentally burning down your house and then suing you for his distress.
While the viewers forgave Mark because he possesses dangly bits and is a fine performer, Kherington was punished for having perfectly-sculpted eyebrows and a midfielder’s thighs.
Comfort and Twitch’s smooth waltz was about as smooth as a John McCain joke.
Poor Twitch was forced to take the pitter-patter steps of a Russian square dancer as he circled around an achingly effortful Comfort.
Frankly, they both looked as out of place and time as each other.
Still, there were enough wonders to make Wednesday feel like the apogee of the week rather than its saggy middle.
Joshua and Courtney proved that their ability to entertain and, frankly, lift was not confined to their previous partnerships.
Their hip hop was vibrant enough to make even the most spuddish couch potato’s hips sense movement.
Will and Katee’s pas de deux and Broadway Boat Dance were exercises in marvelous precision, but it just so happened that neither routine really asked them to display togetherness.
Which is not the same as synchronization.
I leave poor Gev until last. Because the sad thing is that his solo was unquestionably the most perspired and inspired of the night.
And the oddity of this competition is that one winner is chosen, yet judgments are made on paired performances.
Chelsie unwittingly highlighted Gev’s technical infelicities. Yet their contemporary routine was the truest of the night.
Chelsie and Gev showed a far greater ability to express connection while physically apart then, say, Will and Katee.
Yet Gev was jettisoned for being outjived by Chelsie and outprettied by the other gentlemen.
This despite the fact that Lil’C brought a sharp sensitivity and reasoning to the judging process, to the degree that a Tia-less Maria and Hell’s Teeth almost seemed subdued.
But let us end with a message to the nation.
Oh, America, please let your heart lead your eyes next week.
Because this week, it was the other way around.
The Pond thanks the futuristics for reminding us about dancing joy.