American Idol devotees can stop counting the days until the next round of televised auditions. There's a new gig in town -- NBC's America's Got Talent.
Oh do we ever! Some of it great, some of it bad and some of it that will make you wonder, "What the hell was THAT?"
I watched the whole two hours last night and logged more laughs per minute than a Robin Williams special. Not just restrained amused chuckles either. I howled more than once.
Here's the set up: Regis Philbin, the man Ryan Seacrest may be if he grows up, is the host. David Hasselhoff (sporting a shiny, surgically-enhanced face), singer Brandy (with a lot more spunk and less whininess than Paula Abdul), and an editor of several London rag tabloids (taking on the Simon Cowell spot), are the judges. (Note to producers: I don't think you can legitimately call a London rag editor a "renowned journalist", but we won't quibble the point.)
Act by act, the contestants show their stuff in hopes of getting voted on to the next round. The ultimate goal is to be the big winner and take home a million bucks.
Ohhh, the delights presented for our viewing enjoyment!
The finger snappist (fastest fingers ever heard) with his slicked back hair, shades and hip-swivvles to make Elvis jealous.
The soulful acapella group -- pure singing delight.
Two boring jugglers (with anger issues) and one who showed real skill and pizazz, tossing balls high into the air while he danced.
A nose-flutist -- nose-floutist? -- dressed in an outfit that he pulled together by looting the closets of a Napoleon impersonator and a gypsy. (Again with anger issues!)
A gingham-dress clad rapping Granny. (She was great!)
Shadow dancers -- a gypsy, a pirate and a pony. The pony did nothing but look cute and was the best part of the act.
The self-proclaimed oldest male stripper in the world. Gotta admit to no small trepidation waiting for his act. He admits to being 56, but you know how entertainers lie about their age. I think there are a lot of sexy 56 year olds, but I'm not necessarily eager to watch waggle around in black pleather. He peeled off his shirt to reveal smooth skin coated in glitter lotion -- but, to his credit, no sagging pecs. They passed him through to the next round before he got to the full monty. Sighs of relief nationwide may have created that tropical disturbance lurking off of the Bahamas.
My favorite acts of the night? The 8 year old black girl with the killer stand-up comedy routine. She was flat-out hysterical. Claims to write her own material, but even if she doesn't, she nailed her timing and delivery.
My next favorite act, based on the fact that I laughed until my stomach hurt, was the breakdancing cow. Okay, so it was a man in an inflated cow suit, jamming, spinning and getting down with his bovine self. At one point, he spun on his head -- while simultaneously wiggling his udders.
Much to my dismay, the judges did not vote him through to round two.
The judges are a good mix. The Brit can be sharp, but he's clever and isn't as mean as Simon Cowell. Brandy, like I said before, more than holds her own. David Hasselhoff, on the other hand, is as fake as a centerfold's boobs. David, David, David -- Knight Rider, Baywatch and that singing fame in German do not place you on the upper echelon of American performers.
Oh sure, now I sound like Simon Cowell. I guess anybody is capable of Oscar-caliber work. Too bad there aren't too many openings for a gig as a garbage can-dwelling Muppet.
Check your local listings, folks. This show's going to be the water-cooler topic of the summer. I can't wait for the next episode!
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