Friday, September 23, 2005

FOR THOSE FOR WHOM TWOP JUST ISN'T ENOUGH: Wanna waste some more time ruminating about what the heck was going on in the Lost season premiere? Check out The Fuselage, the self-proclaimed "official site of the creative team behind Lost."

The threaded message board is chock full of speculation and all sorts of observations that I haven't seen elsewhere. My favorite: when Sayid finally told Danielle the translation of what Nadia had written on the back of her photo (in Solitary, episode 1:9), it was "you'll find me in the next life, if not in this one." Sound familiar, anyone?

Various members of the cast and writing/production staff answer questions with some frequency, which is refreshing. (Terry O'Quinn seems to be particularly hooked. Perhaps he'd like to become a denizen of ALOTT5MA.)

I continue to hope -- and I'm feeling better about my hope these days -- that JJ and the gang have learned this all-important lesson from Alias: finish what you've started. There are countless plot threads from the first couple of seasons that have just been left flapping in the breeze forever (Sark and the green test tubes of goo, anyone?). It would pretty much suck if one morning JJ decided "hm, these numbers, can't really figure out any good way to wrap up that story line, so let's just let it alone and maybe no one will notice." I hope, I hope.
GUESS I'M NOT YET OFFICIALLY A "HIPSTER BLOGGER:" Gawker has comments now? And we're not yet invited? This is the dorkiest thing people will be lusting after since Gmail accounts.
RICH ENOUGH FOR THE RICH HALL OF FAME: Bill Gates is still this country's wealthiest person according to Forbes' new list of the 400 richest Americans. Warren Buffet finished in the place postion and Gates' old running partner, Paul Allen finished in the show place.

The youngest people on the list are Google co-founders Sergey Brin and Larry Page, who at $11 billion apeice(!), are tied for 16th overall. The five richest celebrities on the list were George Lucas ($3.5 billion), Donald Trump ($2.7 billion), Steven Speilberg ($2.7 billion), Oprah Winfrey ($1.4 billion), and Martha Stewart ($970 million).
DO OPRAH'S VIEWERS WANT TO HEAR ABOUT A COLORFUL MIXTURE OF SPIT, SNOT, URINE, VOMIT, AND BLOOD? So Oprah's back in the live author biz. And she's started off with a doozy -- none of this "tales of women overcoming adversity" business that was so prevalent back in the early days. At least it ain't Faulkner.

As you may have noticed, I tend to find the addict memoir subgenre rather engrossing. (If anyone's interested, Wasted is an excellent member of the group.) I haven't read A Million Little Pieces yet, but I suspect that many of the Ladies Who Read are going to be mopey for a while.
KNEW EVERY STEP RIGHT OFF THE BAT, SAID "I CAN DO THAT": So with six dancers remaining and only one episode to go, So You Think You Can Dance is getting down to the nitty gritty -- four people who actually can dance and two who, while they certainly can dance better than the vast majority of the population, are outclassed by the top four.

On Wednesday, we saw the trouble with the couples-facing-elimination concept. Ashle and Melissa had fallen into the bottom two rather than the seriously inferior Kamilah because Kamilah had had the good fortune to be paired with Nick, who the judges (correctly) believe to be uneliminatable. So Melissa danced her last while Kamilah and her monumentally over-dramatic outpourings made it to the final six.

As for the guys, I was actually kind of surprised by the outcome: Jamile had made it through several weeks on the hot seat by virtue of being up against guys whose time was at least arguably due (Allen and Ryan, for example). Obviously Jamile's got a solid fan base, but I had thought that Artem's general smoothness and constantly exposed chest (still love the crack Nigel made about how Ashle was the only person who'd exposed more skin than Artem) might galvanize the teenybopper fan base into action. But Jamile's fans are apparently plentiful, and thus Artem is off to the gulag.

Which left us with six:

Jamile and Kamilah: This wasn't a lucky draw for either of them: the worst remaining guy and the worst remaining girl. Both dancers are the worst remaining of their gender. They did luck out on their dance selections, I thought, drawing hip hop and American jive -- incidentally, are there other versions of jive that I'm not aware of? Like Guatemalan jive? -- but neither performance was particularly impressive. Neither of these two deserves to make it to the final four.

Blake and Ashle: It's killing me (and Blake as well, apparently) that Blake hasn't drawn hip hop from the hopper yet. Smooth waltz and Argentine tango were at least a change from week after week of Blake Doing His Lyrical Thing. I think Blake is a brilliant dancer, but these two dances didn't really move me. And I'm never moved by Ashle -- she's technically fabulous, but I never get a sense of emotion from her.

Nick and Melody: What a lucky break for these two, drawing each other as partners and then drawing Broadway and disco as their dances. I myself did a little (wildly uncoordinated) happy dance in my living room when I heard the opening thumps of All That Jazz and realized that we were going to see Melody and the Leg doing some Fosse. Nick, of course, is a chameleon who can dance anything except the quickstep, so there was no doubt in my mind that this was going to be fantastic. And it was. Their disco routine was vibrant and fun as well. If these two don't sail into the final four, I'll be quite annoyed.

So the composition of the final four seems pretty obvious to me, but what next? Seems to me that the final two ought to be Blake and Nick, and we've certainly had foreshadowing of a Blake/Nick danceoff, but it's anyone's guess as to what Nigel has in mind. I'd like to see the final four be asked to dance the same dance styles -- and the same choreography, to boot -- so that we're actually comparing apples to apples.

(Between Dancing with the Stars and SYTYCD, I suddenly know a whole lot more about various dances than I did a mere few months ago. Who knew that America would learn the difference between a samba and a rhumba, not to mention the facial expressions required for an effective paso doble?)