Tag Archives: Comfort

SYTYCD Final Eight Shock. Don’t Blame Calista Flockhart’s Mother.

And so we live through the pain again.

The pain of allowing real people out there to break hearts as they break wind. With no thought as to who might laugh, who might cry and who might die of asphyxiation.

On this week’s So You Thigh You Can Dance, justice and injustice held hands and stroked each other like a policeman and a drug dealer in an especially tense French thriller.

Comfort is lovely. But Comfort was done. Just as she was done before. Would Kherington have done any better? Who can say? Yet few could argue that the viewers’ eyes did not take a vacation in Bermuda.

However, with the chaps, it would be reasonable to say (and we’re not necessarily here to be reasonable) that the viewers may have listened to the Pond a little too literally.

Yes, I asked all y’all to vote with your hearts. This did not mean that you were supposed to shut your eyelids while your eyes rolled down your bodies, along the floor, out to the patio to roll around on your hammock.

As I believe I mentioned when I first wafted helplessly into the pheromones of this show, Will was trying so hard to be perfect that he was failing to connect with the audience.

What was striking is that he really didn’t connect with either of his partners over the last two weeks.

Somehow, half way through each performance, he moved his eyes away in order, seemingly, to focus on the perfect arc his right arm was describing, almost as if that arm held such descriptive awe that it really was the ghost of Tim Russert, or the reincarnation of Lenny Bruce.

Yet here was the injustice.

Will’s James Brown solo showed all the wit, verve and abandon that his other dances simply didn’t.

If the solos are there to be judged, and if the ultimate aim is to find the best single dancer, then Will did not deserve to be extradited.

Mark, Joshua and Twitch were all fortunate.

And Calista Flockhart’s mom, who joined a Tia-less Maria and a tirelessly witless Teethy on the judging panel, was sharply honest in trying to point that out.

Twitch really didn’t have to do a whole lot of dancing in Tia’s quite fabulous dramatization of the Bobbit relationship. He performed it well. He danced very little.

But he emoted far too much, perhaps, when he discovered he might be in the bottom two. Turning away from the camera and squatting like an unhappy rabbit seemed just a little unnecessary. It was, however, pleasantly honest.

Mark was perhaps even more fortunate to get away with his misfortune. Not only was he asked to partner Comfort, but he then frantically tried to keep up with Napoleon and Josephine’s schoolboy routine and then dance something that may have been a foxtrot. Or a deertrot. Or a squirreltrot.

Mark, I am suspecting, has endeared himself sufficiently to those out there to have the largest remaining fan base. Perhaps he will suddenly have the blind fortune to draw Katee next week. That might make for a very interesting and, perhaps, expository evening.

And what of Joshua? Perhaps it is my naivete, but, again, his strength seemed to be his strength. And his slight weakness appeared to be his dancing. He seemed at times to be finding it hard to match Chelsie’s precision and verve. It was almost as if he was putting in so much effort that his body was trying too hard.

If that is not a tautologous tautology.

Whatever one might think of this show, and I am clinging to my joy at its essential honesty, there is still so much genuine talent remaining that one can only hope the performers have sufficient energy remaining to deliver something truly inspiring in the two weeks that remain.

Personally, I would very much like to see, at the very minimum, the return of Lil’C and Calista Flockhart’s mom.

Both could guide the viewers just enough to prevent further injustices being rained down on our fragile emotions.

Life is hard and the world is rough.

But if you want to boogie, children, you have to get tough.

I just made that up.

The Pond thanks Guylaine2007 for capturing a dog named Boogie.

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SYTYCD July 17. A simmering sense of tragedy.

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.

They didn’t.

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.




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SYTYCD Top Ten. The pairings begin to leak.

Oh, no.

Some site somewhere (The Pond doesn’t do links. It affects the purity of the performance here) has revealed that Courtney and Joshua will be together for this week’s So You Thigh You Can Dance.

I can imagine Gev’s rather wide pants filling with tears at this very moment.

Will it be possible for him to find another girl like Courtney? Of course it won’t.

Shall we, just for the fun of it, try and guess what the other pairings will be?

If this were American Idol, I would pretend to know, because it was always so much fun to hear the outrage of outhouse-dwellers who were aghast that, say, David Archuleta would be singing Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s In The Cradle.”

I cannot do this to the loyal and honest SYTYCD audience.

Ergo, let us try and imagine, because Gev is such a genuine chap, the worst possible scenarios for the other chaps.

Well, now that Jessica is out through injury, Will, that most uptight of professionals, surely fears Comfort.

Will and Comfort might have all the makings of Will and Grace beneath the sheets.

The man with the most training coupled with the girl with none at all. And a girl whose confidence must have been squashed like a tomato in a bolognese with her elimination last week.

I can hear the rehearsal screams from hundreds of miles away.

What might Twitch be fearing the most? Perhaps a partnership with Chelsie. Somehow, I cannot see their energies quite melding. Twitch, I imagine, is secretly hankering after Katee (in a dancing sense).

Mark seems to be the one with the least to fear- unless he is paired with Comfort. Kherington and Katee are both vintage actresses and would surely complement him like a fridge complements white wine.

And Gev, well, you know he must be a distraught little Clyde at losing his Bonnie. With luck like that, I am imagining it will actually be Gev and Comfort.

I am not trying to demean Comfort’s abilities in any way. But she is the weakest of the girls.

And sometimes, well, sometimes you might imagine producers getting up to their old Idolesque tricks.

So here are my utterly wild and ridiculous guesses:

Gev and Comfort. Mark and Katee. Will and Kherington. And Twitch and Chelsie.

I could be wrong. And I trust you will not besmirch me if I am.

The Pond would like to thank Prince Roy for his image of a Taiwan Lottery Dream Sheet. Whatever that is.

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