Top 32 X Factor Usa

The last edition of “The X Factor” Boot Camp auditions symbolized America’s biggest problem: So many people want a job, so few are chosen.

 

There were even 12-year-olds, incapable of getting jobs up chimneys any more, vying with people three, four and five times their age, just to get the chance at a living wage.

 

This wasn’t easy. There were still 100 acts hoping to squeeze their egos into the last 32. More than a few of them seemed to be currently unemployed. Couldn’t Simon Cowell have liaised with President Obama and received some sort of subsidy from the Jobs Bill? Couldn’t he at least have stretched it to 40, with eight free placements offered by the Government?

No, he couldn’t. Which is why the pain would be great and the drama would cause sleepless nights and severe pressure on health insurance policies (for those who had them).

 Again, we had to listen to snatches of group performances, hoping to hear individuals live or corpse.

 

But here’s what was obvious: there was already more talent on display than in a whole series of “American Idol.” This knowledge became even more poignant on the day that we learned that Lee DeWyze, the “Idol” before last, had been dropped by his record company.

 

 If what we saw was to be believed, the over 30s had more chance of progressing to the last 32 than did any of the other categories – boys, girls and groups. There just seemed to be fewer of the old people. Everyone had the chance to sing but a snatch of a song to stir the cold blood of the music veteran judges – and Nicole Scherzinger.

At the end of the first day of this last Boot Camp show, another third of the hundred would be sent home. Which made one worry for the one-third that would have to leave the other two-thirds of him or herself behind.

The criteria the judges were using were brutal, calculating, almost entirely devoid of emotional bias.

“She’s got energy, but, boy, she can’t sing,” offered L.A. Reid about one contestant. You see, though this is a singing show, it’s all about the star quality. The singing can be finessed a little. The live performances can be touched up a little. The star quality cannot be created from scratch.

So it came to the first elimination. This was not an individual affair. A large group was gathered on stage to be executed – by Paula Abdul. Many were shocked, clearly not expecting to lose. One, however, was wearing a Toronto Raptors hat.

The next group – including Chris Rene, out of rehab for just over 90 days – was told they had made it by Nicole Scherzinger. Some sank to their knees. Some squealed with glee. Some wondered if this wasn’t an audition for “Glee.”

The last group was teased by Cowell: “It’s not good news. It’s great news”. I wonder how long it had taken a whole team of writers to come up with that fine dramatic line.

But why were all these people crying? By the end of the show, many of them would still be sent home. Oh, how we live in the moment.

“I’ve had a lot of defeats. I’ve had a lot of obstacles,” said Josh Krajcik, whose voice and demeanor had thus far hoisted him to prominence. He said he’d had a lot of things to overcome. Why did one get the impression that the burrito maker had been occasionally familiar with alcohol?

But what of Stacy Francis? The 42-year-old stay-at-home mom, heroine of the first audition show, seemed troubled. She suddenly revealed that her dad had died on the first day of Boot Camp. At last, a riveting story.

Suddenly, a show that was teetering on tedium tottered back from the brink by offering a peculiar whiff of honesty. These were real performers, with real talent, biting and scratching towards real money.

Leroy Bell, 59, was the last performer. Cowell wondered what it must have been like for Bell to have been frustrated for so many years of his life and then, for his last chance, to have to compete with 12-year-olds.

Yet the beauty of this twisted little show is that Bell doesn’t have to compete with the kiddies. He merely has to make it as one of the eight over 30s sent along the Styx to the next round.

The last half-hour of the show was left to the results. This was Cowell’s equivalent of Judges’ Table on “Top Chef.” Cowell admitted that he had become emotionally attached to a number of the contestants, to whom, he feared, the other judges didn’t feel the same attachment. Cowell said he intended to fight. Which would have been a little like the Lord of the Manor deciding to fight the butler.

First up were the girls. When 14-year-old Drew Ryniewicz was told she would be progressing, the other contestants stood paralyzed- save for the other 12- and 13-year-olds who embraced her as if this was high school. Which, in a way, it was.

Thirteen-year-old Rachel Crow was next to gain access through the golden doors. Then, 16-year-old Jazzlyn Little. Then, the startlingly honest Melanie Amaro. Yes, these were all flagged in the first audition show. Clever producers, aren’t they? You were already emotionally invested, weren’t you?

Which left Mississippis to be cried, judges to be derided, and little children to be ruined for life. The boys were dealt with quickly. Oh, of course the recently rehabbed Chris Rene made it.

The groups were dealt with quickly too. Surely, it was the older folks who would create the most tea, tears and sympathy. How sad, though, to see nascent lovers Makenna and Brock to be left by the wayside to hitchhike home.

The over 30s stood and held hands while we had to listen to Whitney Houston’s “One Moment in Time.” Did 59-year-old Leroy Bell make it? Did (just) 30-year-old John Krajcik? Did 49-year-old Skid Row resident Dexter Haygood? Did 42-year-old Stacy Francis?

Did certain-number-of-years-old Paula Abdul cry? You need to ask?

But, wait. Just before you go. The judges, in a fit of magnanimity, suddenly decided – even as the suitcases were being wheeled from the building by the dejected – to call a few back.

Yes, really. Suddenly, because there was such a dearth of groups, all of these little young things were being grouped together in order to save their mortal souls.

Never let it be said that Simon Cowell is anything other than generous. Never let it be said that Paula Abdul is anything other than generally wet-faced.

Bad auditions?

When last we left them, the judges seemed to be in some unspoken groupthink experiment, voting in unison for most of episode three. Will the final round of auditions find them on the same page, or deadlocked in discord? Although energized by some standout performances, the judges seem fatigued this episode, and that weariness translates to some knives-out critiquing.

Let’s talk about the bright spots first. Brian Bradley comes off like the Hollywood version of a scrappy hip-hop kid, with Beats headphones around his neck and an outsize ego on blast-mode. “My competition is people like Jay-Z and Kanye West,” he says. With his confidence and ease onstage, it’s a shock he’s not a secret member of Will Smith’s brood.

When Brian picks a fight with Simon, things look tense. “If I saw you out on the street,” the kid warns, “this is what I’d say . . .” That’s when an old school Rick Rubin-style beat drops and Brian launches into a poised, yet adorable self-penned jam called “Stop Looking at My Mom.” The crowd goes bananas, and the judges echo the sentiment. “When I used to work at this place called Def Jam,” LA says, faux-humbly, “I was waiting for someone like you to walk through my door.” Better late than never.

A pretty young blonde in ripped jeans, Cari Fletcher has a robust voice beyond her years. She makes an astute choice with Heart’s mulit-octave spanning “Alone.” After busting out the big guns on the chorus, though, everybody except Simon is impressed. (“The problem is you’re boring.”) Even he caves in when it comes time to vote, though.

Tora Woloshin is bound to be a series favorite. She has Marilyn hair, an asymmetrical cut peacock-feather dress Lady Gaga might wear, and the tattoo proclivities of Kat Von D. Paula seems to have it in for her, though. (“You’re just full of life, aren’t ya?” she notes, pre-audition, with eyes full of dagger.) But eventually Tora’s upbeat attitude and funky Jackson 5 cover earn Paula’s respect and overall high marks.

We’re set up to dislike part-time model Brennin Hunt. A song called “I’m Sexy and I Know It” plays during his introduction and the first thing he says is, “I have a mark against me, looking like I do.” (For the record, he looks like a slightly more rugged Dennis from It’s Always Sunny, with way bigger hair.) When he tells Simon that the reason he never got a deal is because he’s been “honing his craft,” it seems like he’s just blowing smoke. Turns out dude really can sing, though, and his original song, “How We Make It,” is an understated gem.

Strong contenders aside, the final night of auditions is a bit of a fiasco. Diminutive ginger Andy Silikovitz and his scruffy billy goat beard barbarically torture Mariah Carey’s “Hero,” leaving only one question: why is this man here? The judges, who respond as kindly as TV personalities must, don’t seem to know either. “I’m gonna say no,” LA says. “But it looks like you had fun out there.” With that, The X-Factor momentarily transforms into a funhouse mirror Make-a-Wish Foundation.

The next aspiring singer is equally aloof, but less sympathetic. Cashmere makes Simon laugh, saying she got encouragement from all the people “yelling and screaming” during her karaoke sets. After surviving her flat warbling through the looong opening of “You Will Always Be My Baby,” Simon pounces. “People yelling and screaming at karaoke might not be paying you a compliment,” he says before collapsing into fits of laughter with Paula. This is what too many auditions will do.

Nouf Taraman has a voice haunted by off-pitch ghosts, and an overt camel toe that appears to be drinking her champagne-colored dress. When the crowd turns on her about 30 seconds into her Snow Patrol cover she futilely pleads with them: “If you keep booing me, I’ll never get finished.” In the series’ worst pun so far, Simon tells her “Enough’s E-Nouf.”

Jor-El Garcia, does something new by starting his cover of Madonna’s “Lucky Star” off-stage. His serpentine arm emerges from behind the curtain, flouncing around like Thing from The Addams Family. When Jor-El finally makes it onstage, he solo Lambadas. The judges are unmoved by the Forbidden Dance, though. “The singing was terrible,” declares Simon. “The dancing might have been worse.” LA Reid softens the blow, saying “It was fun, but that X on the wall stands for someone worth $5 million.”

The award for “Tightest Pants of the Evening and Also Ever” goes to androgynous Devon Talley, whose whiny “Seasons of Love” from Rent is almost unspeakably bad. It will be at least 525,600 minutes before I’m ready to hear even the word ‘rent’ again.

The most representative act of the night is the unfortunately homonym’d boy-girl duo, Ausem. Although their performance is not bad, Austin is obviously a much better singer than his counterpart, Emily. “The audience you’re aiming for will understand you,” Simon says, not mentioning the disparity in talent. LA doesn’t tiptoe around it, though: “Austin, you’re a star,” he says, “but I just don’t believe in the duet.” He still gives the duo a pass, somehow without mentioning that Ausem sounds like an energy drink marketed toward small children. Will they get a third Yes from Nicole Scherzinger? Not right away. “I like you . . . and I feel you, but . . .” Nicole trails off because she can’t bring herself to further humiliate poor Emily, whose father is practically having an embolism backstage. “Yes or no,” Simon demands while Nicole hems and haws. Eventually he gives up and walks away. The crowd then strongly urges Nicole to vote yes, and she complies. This collision of true talent, hot mess and utter exhaustion is what the episode was all about, and a final reminder of how different the auditions are with a live audience around.

Next week we finally move out of the auditions and into boot camp, which raises the important question: How will basic training compare to the “Hollywood” episodes of American Idol? Simon must have some tricks up his sleeve.