I know, I know. Me too! No, I KNOW! It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. And to be brutally frank, it wasn’t the judges’ fault. It was kinda ours. We didn’t have the stones to throw Phillip to the lions, so the judges had to take out poor, undeserving Max. I won’t go so far as to call Chbeeb this season’s Cedric, but we’re kinda getting there. As for the ladies, apparently Asuka (or Oscar, if y’all absolutely gotta call her that) has more fans on the phone than she does among our blog commenters, because she and Vito slipped through, leaving Max and Kayla vulnerable. But this is indicative of the high-class problem we’re going to face all season: With few dancers breaking out, and just about everyone up to par, every week we’re going to lose someone who doesn’t deserve to go home. Brace yourselves, Dance fans, because as the great philosophers Run DMC once said, it’s like that…and that’s the way it is.
But ooh! Let’s talk about the filler! Um, did anyone else completely guess wrong on the choreographer for the group number, and shout ”Wade!” only to hear ”Mia!”? I don’t know why I was surprised. Given Mia’s bellicose personality, it’s actually more shocking that she frequently choreographs with such pronounced serenity. (Oh crap, I just used ”bellicose” and ”serenity” in the same sentence. Damn you and your infectious loquacity, Lil C!)
Speaking of the Discursive Don, the SYTYCD editors just could not stop themselves from doing a one-night greatest hits of his passages from the Tao of C — just like we did! Why, it’s almost like they read this very TV Watch, right here. In fact, I’d almost guarantee they do, because C took our advice and sported his three-piece-suit-minus-the-jacket again, only this time, sans chapeau. In fact, I really hope he’s reading now, because as evil as this is, somebody has to tell him: The man’s name is Robson, Lil C. Wade Robson. Not Robinson, Robson. Easy mistake, and I know the name’s a tad unusual, but given your facility with linguistic calisthenics, I’m pretty sure you can handle it. Buck on, my brother.
And here we pause to acknowledge that the judges and hostess looked elegant and appropriate last night — especially that minx, Ms. Deeley. That white pantsuit was Dynasty fabulous. (Which reminds me: We talked to the Lady Cat about what’s on her Must List.) Pity we can’t extend praise to all the dancers for their choice of attire. Jeanine’s bondage outfit was not kind to her, Kupono looked straight up goth-sloppy, and Janette seems to have robbed a belly dancer — but only of her scarves. Fellas should aim for Jason’s simplicity, and the ladies should take lessons from Karla and the dearly departed Ashley (who somehow channeled Betty Boop, by way of Ashley Judd, and made it look good). Nobody remembers what they wore, and that’s sort of the point; don’t let the clothes overshadow the steps.
NEXT: But let’s get on to the solos.