TV is the New Reading

Are you ready for America’s ‘talent’ competition?

Last week I talked about my most anticipated premieres in 2010, and I don’t know how I could have overlooked this one.

Indeed, the promos have already been running strong. Thousands of frenzied fans can hardly sleep, dreaming for the day.

The Judgment Day. The day “American Idol” returns to FOX.

The day when Randy Jackson, Kara DioGuardi, Simon Cowell and fresh new judge Ellen Degeneres will begin to dangle their contestants, their hopefuls, like Sinners in the Hands of Johnathan Edwards’ Angry God in front of a national audience and tear at them, shred them, rip them limb from limb based on their ability to sing a song.

It’s true. They put themselves there. They invite our attention, our judgment, our compassion and our scorn. And like sinners in the hands of an angry God thrust into a hornets’ nest and shaken about, the gleeful stings, public floggings and flailings will commence.

And this is the part I don’t get. People become so invested in these artists. FOX airs their backstory, interviews their families, and the footage is schmaltzed up with celestial refrains and so carefully are these segments edited that the subjects become not only celebrated but seemingly worthy of our celebration.

When really, between Taylor Hicks and Carrie Underwood, who do you imagine likeliest to have simply become a superstar anyway? How about choosing among Clay Aiken, Justin Guarini and Katherine McPhee?

Does that make “American Idol” pointless? Not at all. It shows up pointless. The main thing is to generate excitement for someone else none of us, at this moment in history, has ever heard of, so as to make Simon Cowell another pile of money.

More to the point, the fun begins Jan. 12 with the only part of the process I actually enjoy, and that is the audition rounds.

Audition rounds

The audition rounds for me are the shining bright light of America’s talent(less) competition. Here’s where you get the raw, unfiltered “talent.” Where frustrated production assistants exact their revenge on the judges by forwarding to them people who are patently unable to sing. Whose personalities may be larger than life but are eclipsed by their total lack of ability.

What drives these people to take up space in an audition process where thousands of genuinely talented people can’t even make it as far as the four-headed Hydra that is the judges’ panel, but a guy in a chicken suit can?

Is it fate? That all their lives their singing has never displayed any discernible musical intent, but they’d get in front of a national spotlight and their throat would transform into that of a nightingale? That everyone’s karaoke buddies are so drunk and dishonest they neglect to tell you that whatever you’re hearing in your head, from out here, you sound like a walrus? That you can’t sing a note but why let that stand in the way of your opportunity to drop trou on national television?

I’m honestly impressed by Daughtry and Kelly Clarkson, but really, at this stage of the competition, all the judges are missing is a gong. They need a gong. And a big hook. And a trap door. And that keyboard cat thing.

Also, Simon needs to stop pretending to be bored by people’s inability to sing. This is the best part of his show and he should just accept it and come up with more and more outrageously insulting things to say about these people. I mean to be perfectly fair, they just spent a minute messing with our reception and potentially disrupting air traffic. The least he can do is unload both barrels back at them.

FOX tends to rush through this portion of the production with two-hour blocks scheduled two or three nights in a run, so watch for some trippy scheduling, pop some popcorn, curl up and enjoy some charming, uplifting and occasionally magical and deeply moving singing and inspiring life stories.

Interspersed among some ill-advised yowling reminiscent of a petshop.

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