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Nobody is immune to the lure of “American Idol,” least of all the online betting sites. They’re getting in on the fun -– and cashing in on the franchise -– by allowing users to bet on who will win.
Although some gambling sites are not releasing odds until only 12 dreamers remain, others have let the betting begin. Irish bookmaker Paddy Power has declared David Archuleta the early favorite to win the crown, listing his odds at 10-11.
At Paddy Power, Michael Johns (6-1) and Carly Smithson (7-1) fill out the top tier. Luke Menard (100-1, ouch) gets the least-likely-to-win odds, accompanied by Amanda Overmyer and David Cook (both 50-1).
On Pinnacle Sports, David Archuleta dramatically leads the race (-130), tailed again by Carly (+453) and Michael (+813). According to gamblers on the site, Chikezie Eze (+15,000) is least likely to win it all.
Another insight on who will exit the Idoldome next is available at dialidol.com. The site measures the percentage of calls to each contestants' lines that are met with busy signals, using the info to predict who will be voted off next. This week, Archuleta was the only contestant “not predicted to be voted off.” All other contestants lurked in the yellow zone, with poor Luke dangling from the bottom, along with Danny Noriega, Kady Malloy, Syesha Mercado and fallen idol Alaina Whitaker. If I just named one of your favorites, vote early and vote often!
-- Stephanie Lysaght
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With only two more episodes before "The Wire" wraps up for good (or, well, maybe not), anticipation is building for how the whole thing is going to end. So while we wait for this weekend's installment with only Lake Trout and our bitter dreams as our comfort, here's a sampling of reader mail that's come into Showtracker Plaza the last few days. As always, we welcome your feedback, diatribes and commentary -- not to mention any half-baked theories on how this whole thing finishes. Can you tell me why "The Wire" has never got the national publicity of other HBO shows? I don't think I've ever seen any of the actors plugging the drama on any talk show. Nor do I think they ever got their just due at the Emmys. Can you fill me in on this? -- David Melcon, Westwood
David, I wish I could. From the beginning of this season I've been mystified why there hasn't been more of a marketing push behind a show as consistently good as "The Wire," especially given this is its final season. There's really a sort of chicken-and-egg aspect to it, I think. Given "The Wire" attracts a small, devoted audience -- and isn't particularly kind to those who dare to try to pick it up for the first time this season -- HBO probably figured there was little to gain by a big promotional push. But, how much of an audience could have been gained for the last five seasons if people were as aware of "The Wire" as, say, middling-to-abominable efforts like "Big Love" or "John From Cincinnati"?
Factor into this the seemingly boundless critical love heaped upon the show in magazines, newspapers (hello!) and blogs, and you could argue that promotion of the show is already taken care of in some respects, and all without HBO spending a dime. A shame, definitely, but one that's hopefully cut by the prospect of the show taking on a second life when watched on DVD. It's how I got hooked.
And finally, from Charm City, a theory for how it's all going to end... I am pretty sure we have been set up. My guess is that 1) Marlo will come down by the hand of one of his own people; or that 2) absolutely nothing will happen to Marlo because that is exactly what happens to the drug king pins in Baltimore, absolutely nothing. -- Mary Spiro, Johns Hopkins University
Good theories, Mary, and I tend to agree. If "The Wire" has taught us nothing else, it's that while crime may not pay, solving crimes certainly doesn't seem to pay, either (in either the literal or emotional sense). I'd be surprised if Marlo survived this season -- he's just too evil a character to not be punished somehow, even in David Simon's cynical world -- but most likely not because of anything Baltimore PD accomplished. (Though it's not difficult to imagine McNulty just hopping fully into the abyss and taking a shot at him if things really come off the rails). But regardless, as you alluded to, the Baltimore drug trade will still be open for business. The only question is, if Marlo goes, who replaces him? Cheese? Chris? Or, as some have mentioned, Michael?
Thanks again to you all for writing. More to come Sunday.
-- Chris Barton
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Before the writers strike, the biggest mystery surrounding NBC’s “Scrubs,” was whether J.D. (Zach Braff) and Elliot (Sarah Chalke) would pull a Ross-Rachel and finally be together in the hospital comedy’s final season.
But now the bigger question seems to be whether fans of the 7-year-old single-camera comedy will watch the finale on NBC, ABC or DVD.
Although NBC had ordered 18 episodes for this current season, meant to be its last, and 12 were completed before the strike, the network has not committed to allowing producers to complete the final six episodes. Creator Bill Lawrence, who was not available for comment Friday, has said that he would complete his series on DVD if he has to.
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"Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born,
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night."
--William Blake
Before we go on, let us pause to remember those taken from us before their time.
Rarely in the history of competitive singing has the cruel, inexplicable hand of fate struck so mighty and unexpected a blow as it did last night when in one remorseless swoop, it removed both Alaina Whitaker and Alexandrea Lushington from our lives forevermore. There comes a point somewhere fairly early on in each season when it suddenly becomes clear that death walks in the Idoldome, striding boldly through the rehearsal rooms and sound stages, seeking that one straggler who falls for a moment behind the others, gets just a tiny bit lazy and doesn't lock down the low notes, fails to think through her song clearly.
"American Idol," as they say, ain’t beanbag. Eventually all but one must go. But on stage we saw last night that bitter shock as the room realized, with the beheading of Alaina, that on any night, anyone could go. Last week's dismissals were uniformly warranted and not unexpected, their pain thus muted (to all but Ramiele). But to lose two such promising, seemingly sure contenders at once, and so early, seems almost too cruel a blow for an "Idol" connoisseur to bear. (On the boys' side, however, the wisdom of the American electorate showed itself with a flawless pair of picks for elimination -- Jason Yeager and Robbie Carrico.)
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Recently I've found myself having the same conversation about "Lost" with people over and over again. I'll approach my fellow "Lost" fans with the latest theories and questions I've accumulated in the hours since the latest episode only to be met with a serene smile and the phrase, "I've stopped trying to figure it all out. I just want to experience the ride."
Given the frequency with which I've heard that phrase and the look of utter calm I see on their faces, I can't help but think of it as a cult. But it's really an anti-cult, one that requires dropping out rather than getting involved. It's a mistake, I feel. It may free brain space up to consider other matters, but at the loss of truly engaging in one of the most complex television series ever made.
However, after the mind-twisting, time-traveling revelations of the latest episode, it's easy to see the appeal of this stance. For one thing, I'd be able to go to sleep soon after and get a decent rest, instead of lying awake, puzzling over the mutterings of Daniel Faraday, or the identity of Ben's spy on the boat.
The latest episode was Desmond's all the way, from his initial mind-scrambling on the helicopter to his tearful phone reunion with Penny. (By the way, was there anyone who didn't get just a little choked up watching that scene?)
After getting knocked just slightly off their course leaving the island, it appears Desmond became slightly unstuck in time. If that phrase sounds familiar, it's probably because at some point you've read Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse-Five." If you haven't, add another title to your "Lost" reading list. (Currently, I'm working through "Watership Down.")
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First things first: my post the other day questioning the sincerity of David Archuleta -- the Chosen One -- upset readers, more than anything else I've ever written at this newspaper. I got an avalanche of e-mail responses, most of which could be classified as "hate mail." (The general drift was that I'm a child-hating, bitter old cynic who needs either the power of prayer or a good kick in the pants.)
It's a critic's job to express strong opinions, and I was simply expressing mine. I won't apologize for that. Still, the intensity of people's responses made me realize just how strong Archuleta's charisma has proved, and how much "Idol" watchers want to believe in his graciousness and his gifts.
The passion Archie's fans have for him is extraordinary. There's clearly a hunger for the kind of innocence he projects, and wonderment at his precocious musicality. What came across to me as somewhat one-dimensional strikes many people as laudably sincere. I believe more strongly than ever that Archuleta has already won this season, and only the return of his vocal paralysis, or some other disaster on that level, could undermine his destiny.
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Was last night’s auff-ing a surprise?
<Shakes head>
Yes, Chris March’s detailed work (with human hair!) on his collection was amazing, but did he really have a chance? He was voted out once before, so it wasn’t a shock that he was sent packing again.
The walkoff between Chris and Rami showed that Rami can do more than drape, causing collective “Project Runway” fans to heave a sigh of relief. What took him so long to change his one-note designs?
At the homes of Christian and Jillian, it was clear why they are the front-runners of the competition. Christian’s designs looked as fierce as ever, while Jillian’s got the market on feminine wearability. When can we buy her clothes?
Chris’ hearty laugh capped off this episode, a fitting tribute and end to a good-natured and gracious designer.
-- Lora Victorio
(Chris March dress photos courtesy Bravo)
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Let the long wait begin...
On Wednesday, this sneak preview showed up on PerezHilton.com revealing that the world of MTV's "The Hills" as we know it has turned upside down.
From what we can tell from the trailer, when Season 3 picks up on March 24, fans can look forward to:
The reunion of Audrina and Heidi: Yes, that is Heidi entering Casa Audrina/Lauren. And yes, Audrina is welcoming her with a big hug.
The addition of the She-Pratt: Stephanie Pratt is joining the cast. She and Lauren will just so happen to share a class together. And not only that...
...Lauren and the She-Pratt will become friends: You can't script this stuff. Well, OK you can, and that's probably what's happened here. And we love it. "Gossip Girl" and "One Tree Hill" take note.
The return of Justin Bobby: He looks like a new man, too. Looking showered, hair in a neat ponytail, seeming, for once, to be the one pursuing Audrina.
The destruction of Speidi: So, this one is, as anyone who follows the tabloids knows, is likely for show. In the trailer, these two go at it constantly. It looks like Heidi is actually standing up for herself, giving Spencer a verbal beat-down several times. But as TMZ and US show us repeatedly, these two are very much still together.
The one lingering question that never seems to get answered: Why has Heidi's singing career never been addressed on "The Hills"? The video she and Spencer shot for her first single "Higher" has never been aired on MTV and the subject of her singing has never been brought up. We think its inclusion would only add to the comed... er, reality of the show.
Baby steps to March 24.... Baby steps to March 24....
--Denise Martin
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 Despite perhaps all evidence to the contrary thus far in this season of the Chosen One, foretold in "Idol" scriptures, I believe that the next American Idol must be female. In fact, to put it more plainly, I believe all "American Idol" winners should be female. The job of the men in the competition should be to serve as gracious sidekicks/also-rans (Bo Bice, Blake Lewis) or as comic relief (Sanjaya Malakar, Constantine Maroulis, Scott “The Body” Savol, Kevin “Chicken Little” Covais).
The "American Idol" competition is no place for irony, at least at its upper ranks. This is a singing competition, and by singing what we mean is raw, bleeding displays of wide-open emotion that tear the audience’s heart inside out. Humility, joy, pain, jubilation and tears is what the public demands of its champion.
The problem is for men, there is no credible model of masculinity with broad appeal that allows for such naked, unhinged displays of emotional intensity. The various rocker candidates all ultimately fail because in the end, being a rocker is about maintaining one’s cool. Maintaining one’s cool does not allow one to jump up and down with excitement when the judges like one’s song or to rip one’s heart out of one’s chest and place it on the floor for all the world to see, not without the aid of "Idol"-unfriendly substances anyway.
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“What you brought to it was familiarity.” That’s a Paula-ism you just want to frame and put on a wall. "Idol’s" own Yogi Berra was throwing fuzzy praise at Brooke White, whose competent rendition of Carly Simon’s signature song, “You’re So Vain,” was the best substitute for excitement on yet another shaky Girls’ Night. White skillfully adopted the wry tone and slinky phrasing that Simon originated in her version, adding enough contemporary-country twang to invoke her guardian angel, Carrie Underwood. But if this is what stands out among this year’s female competitors, there’s no way a boy can’t win.
Let’s face it: “You’re So Vain” is basically impossible to interpret. Simon wrote herself right into it: not only the famously gossipy lyrics but the very rhythms and melodic lines of the song reflect the sleepy soulfulness and moderate libertinism she patented as the Erica Jong of pop. Simon’s voice emanates sweet sorrow when she sings those lines about clouds in her coffee; White grinned through the song like she was on the Mickey Mouse Club. That’s the difference between a seasoned woman meditating on things worth revealing, and a cute, self-professed naif putting on a 1970s show.
White’s self-righteous cheeriness grates, but at least she has a self she thinks is worth projecting. Body-stiffening fear is the flaw that unites most of this year’s female contestants –- the judges keep saying they’re choosing the wrong songs, but what’s worse is that most don’t have the guts to commit to their decisions.
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"America's Next Top Model" has never been as strong as it thinks it is when it comes to exposing "issues." Goodness knows Tyra Banks tries to make her series relevant to current events but the show's attempts at gravitas always come off as shallow -- beautiful crying, but fake. Viewers have seen models expound on the evils of smoking, eating disorders and tsunamis. This week, Tyra demonstrated the serious problem of homeless youth by having the models dress up like they were homeless (screaming with joy on the way into the shoot), surrounded by actual homeless girls in haute couture. The girls' post-photo shoot fate was never known, but Tyra did fill the models in on her close relationship with homelessness based on the one day she spent pretending to be homeless for her talk show.
Why the need for the "lessons"? There's nothing wrong with fashion
being shallow: "Lighten up, it's just fashion," as Santino from
"Project Runway" would say. Ironically, though, when Kimberly, the
blonde doll-faced girl, decided that fashion was too shallow
for her, she was treated with scorn by the judges. It's too bad, of
course, that she took the place of someone else who might have really
wanted to be on the show, but perhaps Tyra, for all her talk of girl
power and strong decisions, should have respected someone who didn't
waste further time in the competition and who made an executive
decision about her life. But then again, the girl did have a
strong picture. On the other hand, she tried to justify her smoking and
felt that "down to earth" is an antonym for "dumb."
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On Monday night's episode of the Fox game show "The Moment of Truth," Lauren Cleri admitted that she had been fired from a job for stealing money, would rather give food to a dog than a homeless person, knows things about her father that she keeps from her mother and has avoided sex with her husband by pretending to be asleep.
Then, things got worse. And, according to an article in the New York Post, Cleri and her husband are now separated because of it. Yes, said Cleri -- whose husband, parents and siblings were sitting before her, along with a studio audience and 8.9 million television viewers -- she has taken off her wedding ring when out with friends, and, yes, she was still in love with a former boyfriend on her wedding day. After she answered that question truthfully, her ex-boyfriend, Frank, not to be confused with her husband, Frank, took the stage to ask, "If I wanted to get back together with you, would you leave your husband?"
"The Moment of Truth" premiered on Fox in January and has performed very well in the ratings. Contestants must answer 21 questions truthfully in order to win $500,000. The questions are selected from a pre-interview they did while strapped to a polygraph. The contestant's loved ones also get one, and only one, preemptory challenge in which they can hit a buzzer to skip a question they may not want to hear the answer to. Along the way, contestants can win $10,000, $25,000 and so on, and once they reach those milestones, they can quit and keep the money. If they answer a question falsely -- as determined by their pre-interview replies -- they are bounced from the game with nothing.
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Ratings for last night’s “Jericho” actually rebounded a bit from the week before to a 4.3 overnight rating, up from a 3.9.
But don’t get too excited. Those numbers are still pretty weak, and there’s no question “Jericho” received some kind of boost from viewers fleeing NBC’s disastrous special preview of webisode drama “Quarterlife” in the time slot. “Quarterlife,” which pre-empted the usually reliable “Law & Order: SVU,” earned a 2.7 rating, good for under 4 million viewers, according to preliminary reports from Nielsen.
You can’t say CBS isn’t trying. Last night’s episode of “Big Brother” reportedly included a competition involving the “Hudson River virus,” a fictional disease that played a major role in last night’s “Jericho.”
I say reportedly because I’ve never been able to watch more than five minutes of “Big Brother” without wanting to tear my eyeballs from their sockets. Nevertheless, someone at CBS clearly thinks there’s a way to use the reality show to funnel viewers into a quality drama.
Too bad “Big Brother’s” ratings have been even worse than “Jericho’s,” because as pure drama “Jericho” is on a roll.
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NEW YORK — Comedian and actress Rosie O’Donnell wants to return to television in a sitcom about three best friends that would co-star “The Nanny’s” Fran Drescher.
Nine months after her abrupt departure from the daytime talk show “The View,” O’Donnell said on her blog that she had teamed with Drescher on the project, which is still in the early stages.
“Now, Fran and I have a new sitcom, but we can’t talk about it, right?” O’Donnell said at the end of a 13-minute video entry with Drescher, posted on rosie.com on Feb. 22.
“We’re going to do a new, fun, happy, family comedy,” Drescher said.
“She and I!” O’Donnell exclaimed with a grin.
The nascent project is apparently still being developed.
“It’s way too premature” to discuss, said Cindi Berger, a spokeswoman for O’Donnell.
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 Only once before in "Idol" history has a candidate so totally dominated the race so early; only once previously has a singer come to the Idoldome and owned it so totally that the entire season eventually became one acceptance speech. And that candidate was Carrie Underwood. And that season was Season 4 –- widely considered, despite a certain lack of suspense, the iconic "American Idol" season.
Once again, we stand at a place where so early on the competition is on the brink of collapsing in the face of a talent who lays waste to all before him. Could The Chosen One, David Archuleta, in week two of the competition, be on the brink of wrapping it all up and turning Season 7 into a four-month coronation of America’s next superstar?
As detailed last week, The Chosen One has behind him his terrifying talents, reared on "Idol" and honed from his earliest years into the perfect weapon to fight the soul of fearful adversaries on the "Idol" stage. But he also is the putative candidate of the sleeping giant of "Idol" voting blocs: tween girls.
However, before we declare the race over without a single top 12 vote, we cannot rule out the fact that the Duende from Down Under, Michael Johns, is going to be a ferocious contender all the way down the stretch here. Never has the competition seen a serious male contender with such overwhelming star quality. And when this winnows down to a two-man race, will The Chosen One’s charm and gifts wither under the mature, somewhat demonic statecraft of the D from D?
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 Who is David Archuleta, really? Aside from the next American Idol, that is. In this second round of Boys' Night, the dewy teen pulled out so far ahead of the competition that we might as well all go to the gym Tuesday evenings for the next few weeks.
Risking "Imagine," a song forever wedded to the Liverpudlian nasality of a certain martyred Beatle, Archuleta defined what "Idol" means by "making it your own." Without denting his aura of innocence, he switched up the melody, inflecting it with soulful touches that had Paula's upper lip visibly moist. She called him a superstar, Randy said it was one of the best "Idol" vocals ever, and Simon called him "the one to beat." True to form, the Chosen One feigned mild astonishment, like a child gazing in wonder upon his birthday cake.
But don't let this 17-year-old "Star Search" veteran fool you, America. Archuleta's blessed, no doubt, displaying an effortless musicality that nearly recalls the grace of the young Michael Jackson. But his "Imagine" was all worked out. And, by the way, borrowed.
Unlike Blake Lewis, who gave the song an effectively straight reading last season, Archuleta's young enough to not be weighed down by Lennon's legacy. (Also, as a Mormon, he's unlikely to espouse the song's agnostic ideal -- that's the real reason he didn't sing its early verses, with the line about "no religion, too.") But he'd have to be Mozart to have come up with that artful arrangement. It takes experience to so subtly rethink a song embedded in our shared consciousness.
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 Hey, where'd she go? We loved Samantha Sidley at "American Idol" auditions, and so did the judges. She was the sweet, modest, L.A. native who sang Norah Jones while Paula and Ryan swapped jobs, remember? Well, come Top 24 week, our girl was nowhere to be seen. She'd been eliminated, without so much as a farewell montage!
I called Samantha today, hoping to straighten out the details of her tragic ouster, but Samantha seemed just as perplexed as I was. “I would like to know why they cut me out too, but I don’t know,” exclaimed Samantha. “I really don’t know.”
From what I could gather, however, Samantha wouldn’t miss her “Idol” days too much. “It was so draining,” she sighed, and also copped to feeling “different” from her fellow contestants. “They’re very enthusiastic to be on TV,” Samantha explained, and “they all listen to the same type of music.” She also said that the “fake smiles” and 15-hour days weren’t really her speed.
Still, Samantha’s “AI” experience wasn’t all bad; just a few minutes of airtime did wonders for her fan base. “I had like 800 messages in my MySpace account after,” she exclaimed.
So, is there any chance that Samantha will grace the "Idol" stage again next season? “If worse comes to worst,” she laughs. And she sounds so reticent about the whole ordeal that I asked what made her try out in the first place. “The pressure of my family,” she answered without missing a beat. And I realize that this girl doesn’t have a phony bone in her body.
So, even though you won’t see Sam rocking the Kodak any time soon, all is not lost; you can still catch her smoky vocals right here in L.A. Sidley and her band, Alex and Sam, are doing a residency Sundays at Tangier. To check out music by Alex and Sam and for a list of upcoming shows, click here.
-- Stephanie Lysaght
(photo courtesy of Fox)
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“God help you if you are an ugly girl, course too pretty is also your doom, 'cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room.” -– Ani DiFranco
After managing to secure a spot in the Top 24, Amy Davis fell from grace last Thursday. No, she wasn’t the worst singer in the group; she was just too darn perfect. Her flawless physique made her unapproachable, and America needs an Idol it can hug.
After her ouster, Amy took to her reinstated MySpace page, where she thanked her faithful fans and even apologized “to everyone for not performing better on the show.”
Maybe she should have left it at that. Instead, Amy added, "I actually can carry a tune, I promise!" Then she went on to explain why she failed on the show … something about in-ear monitors?
"I have used in-ear monitors for the past two years for every show (even acoustic shows)," wrote Amy, "and my brain has been trained to hear my voice blasting in my one ear through an earbud and the instruments in my other ear (no earbud, I only use the one for my vocals). To switch from that to using floor monitors (nothing in my ear) requires retraining my brain to pick out the sound from the air and deliver my vocals to my ear and I just could not do it."
With or without an earbud, I couldn't follow, but I'm no singer either, so feel free to click here for Amy’s side of the story.
-- Stephanie Lysaght
(Photo courtesy Fox)
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Allow me to take the talking pillow. Thank you.
Now that it’s my turn to speak, I’d like to say a little something about Bryan Cranston. On this, Hollywood’s biggest night, our main man continued to make his case for next year’s awards season. And you know that little clip they always play of an actor’s performance as they go around the room, announcing the name of each nominee before opening the envelope? Well, Cranston officially has his clip for next year’s Globes and Emmys. His monologue in tonight’s intervention scene, about choosing to die his way, was about as good as it gets.
Of course, he changed his mind, but more on that later. ...
All season, Cranston has been fantastic as Walter White, keeping this ship steadily afloat by never overplaying his character despite the absurdity that often surrounds him. I can’t think of too many actors who could take this premise –- chemistry teacher gets two years to live, starts cooking meth –- and not fumble it away somehow, making our main character either too light, too heavy or too boring for the material.
Cranston has walked this tightrope well, and tonight’s intervention scene felt like a powerful crescendo. It should be noted here that Cranston, to embody Walter, put on 15 pounds, grew the dead-caterpillar mustache and stayed out of the sun to reach a perfect shade of pale. He wanted, as he’s often said in interviews, to almost disappear, to be a man barely noticed -– which of course gives him room to steadily come into focus as his character transforms into something else entirely.
In the intervention scene tonight, Walt at first did what just what we expect of him; he slumped into his chair and practically faded away as his family did all the bickering over whether it was worth it for him to undergo chemotherapy. Finally, he piped up, whistling loudly and yanking away the talking pillow.
I’ll recreate the monologue here as best as I can, but words on a page simply don’t do Cranston any justice. He took what was in the script and delivered it with such strength and feeling that he brought his fellow cast members –- and maybe even a few of you out there -– to tears.
“What I want, what I need ... is a choice. Sometimes, I feel like I never actually make any of my own choices, I mean. My entire life, it just seems I never, you know, had a real say about any of it. Well this last one, cancer, all I have left is how I choose to approach this.”
Skyler: “Then make the right choice, Walt. You’re not the only one it affects. What about your son? Don’t you want to see your daughter grow up?”
“Of course I do. Skyler, you’ve read the statistics, you’ve -- ... These doctors, talking about ‘surviving.’ ‘One year,’ ‘two years,’ like it’s the only thing that matters. But what good is it to just survive if I’m too sick to work? To enjoy a meal? To make love?
“For what time I have left, I want to live in my own house, I want to sleep in my own bed, I don’t want to choke down thirty or forty pills every single day and lose my hair, and lie around, too tired to get up, and [be] so nauseated that I can’t even move my head. And you? Cleaning up after me? And me –- some, uh, some dead man, some artificially alive ... just marking time? No. No. And that’s how you would remember me. That’s the worst part. So ... that, is my thought process, Skyler. I’m sorry. It’s just ... I choose not to do it.”
And the Emmy goes to...
Well, we don’t know. It’s too early to prognosticate, but I certainly hope he at least gets a nomination when that distant time finally arrives. When I think about this series’ golden moments to date, they’re all Cranston -– when the doctor told him he was going to die, and his eyes narrowed on the mustard stain; when a sonogram revealed Skyler was carrying a girl, and Walt’s face conveyed both the elation of the news and then the pain of remembering that he won’t get to see her grow up; when he killed Krazy 8, the tears and the “I’m sorrys” that bookended the shocking-to-watch murder.
And never was Cranston’s overall stiffness more evident than when we had that flashback in Episode 3 to him as a younger man, flirting with his assistant. The flowing mane of hair, the beard, and most importantly the confidence and charm that pervaded his stride and his speech -– it showed us just how much time has withered away this man, and also showed just how good Cranston is at playing both ends of that spectrum.
That brings me to tonight’s fist-pump moment, when Walt arrived at the birthday party of his old chemist pal, and that assistant from the flashback scene -– Gretchen, it turns out, is her name –- appeared as his wife. Jessica Hecht is the actress’ name, and you probably remember her as The One That Got Away from Paul Giamatti in “Sideways,” or as Carol’s life partner -– and, subsequently, Ross’ nemesis –- in “Friends.” Her reappearance brought hopes of more flashback scenes to the more vibrant (and less cough-heavy) Walter White, and who knows, maybe some saucy old-new temptation for our hero in his final years (no offense, Skyler, but the chemistry does seem to still exist between Walt and Gretchen).
Tonight’s only down moment, for me, was actually directly related to the perfectly played intervention monologue. Walt’s words had been so uncharacteristically strong and convincing –- and in a way, very sensible –- that it was a bit of a letdown when, the very next morning, he changed his mind. Sure, you can’t really fault a guy for doing something against his will just because his wife wants him to, but I’d have at least further separated the intervention monologue from the “Ok, fine, I’ll do it” moment.
As it happened, all it took for the change of heart was one night’s sleep, waking up in an empty bed and then taking in his wife’s presence, or lack thereof -– first he grabbed her pillow, then he took a whiff of her bedside face cream. When he then found her in the kitchen, telling her “Ok, I’ll do the treatment,” we were basically told two things about Walt: one, he really will do just about anything for his wife, and two, maybe he still has a long way to go before he can truly stand up for himself. (And three, that must have been some face cream.)
It was a sweet moment, sure, but it also too quickly dulled the power of Cranston’s monologue in the prior scene. It was kind of like if Barack Obama were to come out on the campaign trail right about now and say, “You know all this stuff about ‘change’ and ‘bringing people together’? Yeah, I dunno.”
But maybe that’s just me. Talking pillow, anyone?
-- Josh Gajewski
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Let the record show that the true beginning of the end is underway in Baltimore.
No doubt, there are plenty of unhappy Omar fans out there right now. While talking over the final season, one "Wire"-watcher I know said, "Whatever happens, as long as they don't kill Omar." Well, all right then. But that, for better and for worse, is not how this show works.
Omar's end played like the opposite of Prop Joe's shooting a few weeks back. But where Joe's end was excruciatingly and almost lovingly slow under Marlo's watchful eye, Omar was gone in a flash, with an almost insulting level of anonymity from a person who at first just seemed a random kid in a liquor store (but after a quick rewind became Kenard, the wee bundle of undiluted hate from Michael's corner). Apart from the ominous build-up of Omar furiously prowling Baltimore's vacants in the unforgiving midday sun, there was little indication something like this was coming -- other than the unsettling momento mori of Kenard trying to light a cat on fire as Omar passed by. In short, wow.
Still, those who have been with "The Wire" from the beginning can't be surprised for long. Everyone in David Simon's Baltimore is a potential casualty, regardless of how many leaps from tall buildings in a single bound Omar pulled off. Just ask Stringer Bell. Still, for one of the few times this troubled season, an episode's impact has lingered well past the closing credits until finally, after running the full gamut of the Kubler-Ross stages of grief, acceptance has been reached. Given all "The Wire" has established up to now, would it really have been more satisfying to watch Omar mow through Marlo's crew one by one before a final, High Noon showdown? Maybe it all could've wrapped up with Omar enjoying a victory Newport backed by some "Don't Stop Believing" while the closing credits roll -- would that have been preferable?
Of course not. As good as the above might have felt for everyone who loved West Baltimore's most fascinating export, this ending feels right. There will be no Jerry Bruckheimer finale with a hail of hot lead and venom for Omar, only a cruel moment where someone's guard was let down for a split second too long. That was enough for everyone who crossed Omar's path, and so it's enough for Omar.
So that begs the question: If Omar can't get Marlo, who will? Does anyone truly believe the law is the fastest horse in this race? Baltimore's finest are closing in, however, with Bunk in the lead thanks to new DNA evidence against Chris for his killing of Michael's stepdad. But, thanks to Lester's understated secret weapon, Leander Sydnor, the Greeks' code seems to have been cracked. And it's, um, the Baltimore Thomas Guide? Really? If indeed Lester and his rapidly swelling ranks of his "shadow" Major Crimes unit (thanks, McNulty!) are on the right track, it will be interesting to see where we go from here. But it's hard to picture Marlo's end coming with something as simple as a pair of handcuffs. Justice, for all its tantalizing appeal, is not "The Wire's" way.
Speaking of McNulty, things aren't looking good for our "hero." He spent much of the episode crumbling under the strain of his false empire, confessing his sins to everyone from Kima -- who might blow the whistle on the whole weird scheme -- to the long-suffering Beadie, who finally got his attention by bailing out for a night. Maybe hearing Quantico's psychological profile of his "killer" hit a little too close to home, but McNulty finally seems to be recovering his senses, which at this point just seems horribly sad. As great as it is to see McNulty's character regaining its nuance, redemption seems about as common as a Passenger Pigeon in Baltimore -- unless your name's Clay Davis, of course.
Have to say, if this episode is any indication, there's reason for optimism for how the series is going to wrap up. The pacing this week seemed far more natural, and even the troublesome newspaper storyline seemed less over-the-top than usual with Gus' brusque stand against Templeton. But is it all too little too late? Have we been set up for the ending we've been waiting for? Or have we just been set up?
-- Chris Barton
(Photo courtesy HBO)
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Were the coifs really that flat way back in the 1960s? The retro-cheezo outfits worn by the Top (for the last time) 24 during their awful opening medley made me long for the Milos Forman version of countercultural nostalgia, as defined in his messy, frizzy, fabulous 1979 film of "Hair."
Of course, these "Idol" hopefuls weren't even born then, aside from maybe Evil Michael Johns, who's really more of a Val Kilmer-via-Oliver Stone kinda guy. Their idea of the swinging '60s is Beyonce in "Goldfinger" — a parody of a parody. The song selections our finalists have slaughtered and/or have been saddled with fit right in with the bizarre rewrite of pop history that "Idol"'s producers have been authoring for years — a revisionism in which both Elvis and the Beatles would have fit right in on the "Ed Sullivan" show, rather than upsetting millions and changing cultural history.
"Idol" has arisen during a cultural moment that's killing symbolic rebellion with kindness. Look at this season's "edgy" contestants: biker mama Amanda Overmyer and andro-brat Danny Noriega would have been shocking on prime-time television even a decade ago, but now their attempts to mess with formula are absorbed as quirks to be overcome. When Amanda had to stand up there and sweat her possible elimination, I felt like the judges were giving her a slap on the wrist. Good girls, "Idol" girls, do not growl: remember what happened when Kelly tried last year?
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After three episodes of increasingly mind-blowing revelations, this week's "Lost" settled into a bit of a lull. Maybe it's my general apathy about Kate's legal and familial problems or maybe I'm just sick of seeing courtroom scenes on TV, but the witness stand as forum for revelation just holds no appeal for me.
Once again, we were treated to flash-forwards to the Losties' post-island life, and in Kate's case, she finally faced the consequences of killing her father. But in the grand scheme of the show, do we really care anymore? To people living mundane, desk-bound lives, the seeming life-and-death decisions of a courtroom seem thrilling, but compare that to outrunning a smoke monster. Which is more exciting? Matlock should thank his lucky stars smoke monsters didn't exist back in his day.
The interminable courtroom scenes were good for one thing, and that was the revelation, courtesy of Jack, that according to their post-rescue lies, there were eight survivors of the crash. Since Jack, Kate, Hurley, Sayid, Aaron (more on him in a bit) and our unnamed sixth survivor are collectively known as the Oceanic Six, we can surmise that two of the supposed crash survivors didn't live to make it back to civilization. Are they going to use Boone and Shannon as their dead survivors or will two other Losties bite the big one?
After the big revelation at the end of the episode, that Kate's child is really Aaron, the future (or past -- these time-shifts are so hard on us Show Trackers) doesn't look so hot for Aaron's real mommy, Claire. If "Lost" is predictable about anything, it's fingering the person most likely to die based on the person with the least relevance in the story arc. Charlie was standing around with nothing to do for a long time before the writers finally decided to bump him off. And for most of the past two seasons, Claire has done nothing but hold her baby on the sidelines and look worried. Not the basis for great drama or series longevity.
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And so as winter must follow spring, after a brief interlude of basking in the spotlight, posturing on landing strips alongside private jets, walking the red carpet at the season opening party and taking their first steps onto the "Idol" stage before an audience in the tens of millions, the season of death comes once again to "Idol."
The Top 24 they may be, drawn out of the masses to claim their place in history, but nonetheless, within the next three weeks, half of them must die, and as always in these early days, that news hits many of them very hard.
The boys and girls seemed to have sharply divergent attitudes to the Grim Reaper’s first dance on the "Idol" stage (with his henchman the diabolical Seacrest). Last year, the contestants very quickly formed a tight-knit group of friends, sharing the fiction that they were all in this together. This year the boys, thus far at least, seem to be skipping that little coping mechanism. None other than the emotive Danny Noriega showed anything more than polite condolence for youngsters Colton Berry and Garrett Haley as they were dispatched to the great beyond.
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Both the charm and irritation of "America's Next Top Model" is its steadfastness. Cycle 10 is upon us, and not that much seems to have changed since Cycle 1 (especially since the show is being brought back to New York from LA, which makes sense from a fashion point of view, but allegedly is being done because of Tyra Banks' own personal reasons.
So the inaugural episode of the new cycle was very much like all the previous ones. The audience was introduced to a big group of girls, clearly encouraged by the producers to jump and scream as much as possible, especially when a cast member of the show appeared. Per usual, they were winnowed down via a few small photo shoots, runway walking and a meeting with the panel. You could say that this season they put a "spin" on that formula by telling the girls they were attending "Top Model Prep," however, they were put through the same old paces, the schoolgirl uniforms were taken straight from VH1's "Charm School" and we have already seen runway coach extraordinaire J. Alexander in a schoolmarm outfit. Then, as always, Tyra appeared in an over-the-top reveal that was meant to show us how fun and spontaneous and real she is, and in case we weren't aware of how special she is, we were given ecstatic reactions from the girls, one of whom did say, specifically, that Tyra is "so special."
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Well, that was painful. Girls' night on "Idol" suffered from a traveling flu, and a bigger case of almost everybody trying too hard. This year's women performers have great buzz -- in some karaoke universe, anyway, where personality is defined by number of notes "blown" (to use Randy's tasteless honorific) and qualities such as rhythmic sense or emotional nuance have no weight. But in the real world -- even the plasticine corner where "Idol" takes place -- nervous imitation, however cheerily executed, doesn't get you far. That's what I saw from the ladies tonight.
The exceptions found their footing within styles that the judges showed little sign of recognizing: Asian pop, punk blues and acid jazz. Ramiele Malubay was rightly praised for dusting off Dusty Springfield's "You Don't Have to Say You Love Me" with aplomb, and her secret ingredient was a dollop of the elegant cheesiness that typifies Asian pop. Ramiele's serious pipes are fast defeating "Idol's" anti-brown bias -- along with David Archuleta and Danny Noriega, she's forcing the show's producers to acknowledge that not every talent comes in black or white.
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Tuesday night, the boys debuted on the world stage with a night of performances that were largely unexceptional, with two huge exceptions and two medium-size ones. Wednesday night, we met the girls with the question hanging over the stage: Did any of the ladies have the magic to go head-to-head with Archuleta and Johns? Your tip sheet on the women of Season 7 follows.
CONTESTANT: Kristy Lee Cook
THE SHPIEL: “If I win this, I want to make enough money to buy back my horse.” Favorite of audition tour, may fade in the Idoldome’s harsh glare
CORE VOTING BLOCK(S): Country boys
STRENGTHS: All-American girl
WEAKNESSES: Forgettable in diverse crowd
IDOL PREDECESSOR: Melissa McGhee
COCKINESS QUOTIENT (1 – 10): 5
STAR POWER(1 – 10): 5
LIKELY FINISH: 23rd CONTESTANT: Joanne Borgella
THE SHPIEL: Plus-size model and proud
CORE VOTING BLOCK(S): The size-challenged
STRENGTHS: Only contestant this year for the plus-size demographic
WEAKNESSES: After last year’s champion, Idol may need a year off before selecting another plus-size model; despite plus size, model background renders her too poised and still on camera.
IDOL PREDECESSOR: Jordin Sparks
COCKINESS QUOTIENT (1 – 10): 7
STAR POWER(1 – 10): 4
LIKELY FINISH: 19th
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