I was somewhat late into watching American Idol, only taking it seriously from the third season, when it became evident that it wasn't just any talent show, but the talent (reality) show.  It took me no time to get up to speed with the set-up—contestant works song based on a theme, judges pass judgment, viewers vote, one gets eliminated the following night.  But Idol fans know all too well that it's not the only thing the show has to give.  Any reality show has to show the origins of everything—in this case, how the contestant got to where they are right now.  The easiest way to do that is, of course, the very first step these contestants took: the auditions.

The third season was arguably William Hung's season . The Cowell-described “surprise of the century” went on to become a significant success: talk show appearances were followed by small shows and, inevitably, an album, all because of the way he butchered Ricky Martin.  I saw that episode, and I'll admit I was laughing—err, enjoying it.  How could someone think he has the chops to join Idol, when evidently he doesn't?  The point back then was, of course, the “aww shucks” moment, the way he kept positive despite Simon's expected comments.  And I got it back then.

Since then, though, I have learned to dislike the audition episodes. As Idol gave more and more time to showing what happens during the tryouts, it became more ridiculous.  Sure, some think it's the most enjoyable part of the entire season—wannabes fighting with Simon, or begging for Paula's (easy) yes, or singing despite all three judges' annoyed disapproval.  Then, there were the gimmicks the contestants had, too—the seventh season, for instance, had Renaldo Lapuz in that cape singing that earworm the goes “best friends forever” or something.  It slowly became ridiculous.

Of course, you can say that it's the contestants' fault.  After the William Hung story (or maybe something far back, which I can't possibly know), it felt that auditioning for Idol is the quickest way to get famous.  Suddenly, you didn't have to have, at the very least, an inkling of singing prowess before you can get on television.  You just have to be very, very confident, and perhaps a little flashy—or just plain ridiculous.  Of course, Fox snapped that up very well, with montage after montage of bad singers, butchered songs and “can you please give me one more chance?” pleas.

As the years went on, I started feeling bad towards the contestants, not because they're being turned down, but because they really think they have what it takes, when they don't from the get go.  In later seasons, as Idol gave more time to auditions, I was close to screaming at my television.  “Can you please show something else?” I said, as another awkward, clueless contestant insists on trying again.  I used to laugh at these moments, but I'd like to think I'm a good person, so I decided to apply euthanasia: I picked up the remote and changed the channel.  Ahhh, whatever's on the other networks.  Thank, you, very, much.

This year, I gave the Idol auditions a chance.  The producers' proposed changes to how the show works didn't escape scrutiny, but when I heard of them, I took hope.  They promised less air time for bad singers, and more air time for the good ones, and even more air time for the Hollywood auditions (which I've yet to judge, since we haven't really seen much of it, and by then we know they deserve to be there).  Plus, it doesn't hurt to have Kara DioGuardi onboard as an additional judge, which would make the judges' deliberation interesting again.

Okay.  Season premiere.  Two hours.  Phoenix auditions.  So far, so good.  Pretty blah, but still good.  Interviews.  Too many interviews.  There's this girl who has this non-profit organization—“aww shucks” moment!—well, she's pretty, but it feels weird.  Oh no, crazed Kara fan!  Oh no, Bikini Girl!  Oh no, he'll-obviously-get-in-because-he's-got-a-sob-story-and-they've-been-selling-him-for-the-past-two-hours sort-of-blind guy!  A familiar feeling came to me.  I wanted to change channels again.

More than halfway through this season's auditions, I think there'll never be a time when I'll watch these darned audition episodes.  We still have the people that think they have what it takes (“lah-rynks, leh-rinks”) and those montages that warrant charity more than amusement.  To make matters worse, we're asked to root for people who come from a tearjerker of a background—not that it's a bad thing, citing what David Archuleta was before the show, but do we have to sell that story until the very end?  Yes, Ryan, “the guy who gave all to his mother” will get through to Hollywood.  I knew that already, from the very first link.

American Idol is, above all, a show about looking for the best (relatively) untapped talent this nation has to offer.  It does that most of the time, sure.  But I don't think we have to endure everything, plus the kitchen, before we get to the good, competitive, significant stuff.  How about we give an hour to each stop in the auditions, maybe three hours for Hollywood, and then work on the back stories of each contestant when needed?  That doesn't feel as annoying, I believe.  Sure, it won't be as amusing, but it won't be as dragging as it already is.  And, I don't have to make that confused look when my Idol fan friends talk to me about some contestant they noticed.  (“Adam is cute,” one of my friends said.  I answered, “Adam who?”)

Instead, we get three hour-long episodes this week.  Unless something really interesting comes up in the auditions, I won't regret not watching them.  As I said, I'd like to think I'm good—and I don't like changing channels just to ease everybody away from the suffering that is one horribly misguided contestant.


-Henrik Batallones, BuddyTV Staff Columnist
(Images courtesy of Fox)