Dancing with the Stars recap: On the Attack
Ne-Yo sings, six hot flamenco dancers steam up the dance floor, and the ballroom kids return, but it's the tongue-in-cheek campaign ads that steal the show
‘Dancing With the Stars’ recap: Not so negative campaigning
Rocco DiSpirito, the skinny chef you should never trust, departed Dancing With the Stars last night, with his mama and possible new boy toy, Bruno Tonioli, in tow. Yes, it’s sad and theoretically unfair, but at least our lasting image from week 4 will be Bruno humping Rocco’s tender loin instead of the increasingly dorky Corky humping Cloris Leachman for no real reason. Save it for the exit dance, pops. Was the elder Ballas always so grabby and weird, or has Cloris’ muted behavior merely amplified an already existent excess of shtick?
Speaking of shtick, actually, Lance and Lacey got the go-ahead from DANCMSTR to perform their kind-of-gothy tango as this week’s encore. Maybe it was because I watched this dance through blurry vision with my head resting on my shoulder, but I enjoyed round 2 much more than Lance and Lacey’s first attempt. So next time, if you’re not feelin’ it, let your noggin fall limp like an ‘N Sync puppet. Or quit sleeping for two days. Or…just wait for the encore the next day, I suppose. (This recap is so full-service today! No need to get out of the car.)
I absolutely loved all the smear campaign commercials DWTS ran last night. Maybe that means I have extremely low comedy standards, but I’m pretty sure it just means we’re barely ever offered anything that clever on results nights, so let me have this fun, will you?! Rocco’s and Warren Sapp’s ”weighty” spoof ads pretty much canceled each other out, but I loved the one for Cloris that gave a voice to disgruntled members of the accounting department who’ve had it with Grandma’s tendency to steal props and delay production. Maurice’s was funny because after the line ”Maurice Greene must think this competition is a joke,” I imagined many of you readers joining me in remarking to the TV, ”Um, it is.” (With that loving feeling, of course!) But my favorite was Brooke Burke’s, because it centered around a familiar but never-uttered message that I’m sure feeds loud and clear into many voters’ heads: ”Don’t you just hate her? It’s time to say no to hot chicks who can dance.” They, and drugs, could ruin society for good one of these days.
NEXT: Seven deadly abs
Special guests Ne-Yo and Los Vivancos tried their mightiest to dazzle us, but I definitely missed the pro dance this week. The ”seven guys with six packs” (Tom made a funny!) were aesthetically intriguing for a minute just by being men without shirts on an open floor, but I can see them popping into one of my more tepid nightmares to stomp around and occasionally tweak their own nipples. And I’d be all, dudes, it’s my dream. Planting seven Maks and Alec bobbleheads on my TV screen to simulate a pro dance proved fruitless, as the brothers simply moved too quickly. I also only possess two hands. To sum up the brothers’ segment, I’d like to cite a just-received e-mail from my slightly-more-appropriate-than-me mom, Dee Barrett: ”The whole time those flamenco (sp?) guys were dancing, I thought their pants were gonna just slink right on down. Amazing.”
Finally, the Ballroom Kids are back! Yay? I’m a big fan, but I know some of you think it’s inappropriate that the wee ones should get judged and eliminated by Dopey, Grumpy, and Randy as if they were real adults and therefore fully eligible to have their dreams crushed. I say it’s never too early for misery! No, what I mean is that the judges’ comments are always so careful and scripted for the kids, I never worry about their psyches too much. They’re competitive ballroom dancers at 10 years old. Their parents probably scrutinize their game faces at the dinner table. I think they can handle Carrie Ann. Jessica, the fashion-forward tyke in neon green, was obviously my favorite because she designed her own Dancing With the Stars costume! And she’s 10! I may have missed my calling, but she can live my dream for decades to come.
What do you think, dance masters? Are you humping your furniture out of joy — or anger — because Cloris got to stick around? How filthy of a beast is Susan Lucci, and is anyone else getting tired of the Erica Kane stuff? And who’s going to break the news to Lance that you can’t coin something someone else said?
Dancing With the Stars