SCYTCD Bloggin’

Dear god: please give Mary Murphy laryngitis forever and ever. Thank you in advance.

Kherington and Twitch: hip-hop. Passable, although as usual Kherington’s problems (most notably the Smile That Never Goes Away and more than one or two points where she just wasn’t hitting the beats hard enough) are glossed over in favour of Twitch’s plusses (which are, in fairness, pretty damned enormous). Not Tabitha and Napoleon’s best routine, either; they’re much better on the lyrical side of hip-hop than the street side of it, to say the least. (I think Shane Sparks or Dave Scott would have ripped this routine apart.) But passable, and Twitch remains excellent, and that’s all that matters.

Courtney and Gev: rumba. Firstly: whoa, that was a dress. Secondly, this is the third week in a row where Courtney and Gev’s obvious and excellent chemistry livened up a relatively straightforward and uninteresting routine; large chunks of this thing seemed to be run through at half-speed, like they were saving up energy for the really big tricks (which were excellent). There’s a limit to the amount of “stately” I can handle in one routine, and this one came up right against that limit. But it wasn’t bad. Then Adam Shankman makes the mistake of giving intelligent, constructive criticism and Nigel and Mary get bored with it because he’s not telling jokes or shrieking or anything.

Comfort and Chris: jazz. Firstly, Tyce Diorio’s “African jazz” routines are about as African as I am. (Which, since my father is South African by birth, means “not a whole lot.”) Secondly, this is the second routine in two weeks where Comfort and Chris needed to hit every beat with full force, and the second time where they did not do that, not even close. Interestingly, Chris was better than Comfort this time, and I think the novelty of Comfort being a talented female hip-hopper with very little ability to extend that talent is about gone now. So: bad routine plus bad dancing. Bottom three, no chance they’re not.

Jessica and Will: disco. The curse of Doriana Sanchez continues, because Doriana Sanchez knows what a disco routine needs: endless, endless lifts! She managed to wait a whole minute this time before going to a chain of momentum-sucking lifts (four in a row, for crissake), and it’s a shame because somewhere in there was a really, really good disco routine; what happened to first-season Doriana Sanchez, who understood that part of the fun of a good disco routine is doing the cheesy, fun handwork with pride? Anyway, this is the third week in a row where Will and Jessica have gotten a complete blowjob from the judges, and the third week in a row I’m hardpressed to call it anything better than passable. Jessica can’t keep up and Will is far sloppier than the judges are willing to admit.

Kourtni and Matt: contemporary. Hey, two contemporary dancers doing a contemporary routine! I wonder if they can do a good job of that. Sonya Tayeh gives them a routine where they flirt with one another, and it’s automatically an uphill struggle because Matt is either gay or really, really weird. (I’m not sure which yet, but I’m leaning towards the latter.) Anyway, it’s a fun, odd number, and they’re wearing ugly clothes, and mostly the judges talk about the clothes, because they are ugly, and because giving Kourtni and Matt compliments might be nice but it’s not like either of them are winning this thing and everybody knows it. Really, it’s hard to comment on their routines, because Kourtni and Matt are just marking time till they go home. It might be a while, but it’ll happen eventually.

Also, Matt has a HUGE NOSE.

Chelsea and Thayne: quickstep. “Hey, America! Here’s a thing about Thayne America doesn’t know: he’s gay.” (Oh, come on, you were thinking it too.) Anyway, this week they have the quickstep, and they laugh and laugh at the ballroom tradition of “having a given frame within which to dance,” because it’s so strange and odd to them! Look, if for some reason I was a contemporary dancer selected to appear on this show, I would spend the entire goddamn three months in between selection and the first show doing crash ballroom training and nothing more; quickstep and salsa and cha-cha-cha are only difficult if you don’t have any practice in them at all. Master the fundamentals and your lyrical training can handle the tricks, kids!

Anyway, their choreographer is some very white lady I have never seen before. How white is she? She sets their routine to Phil Collins. That is how white she is. Whatever, it sucked bag and they’re bottom three most likely. Mary goes to extreme lengths to keep her retarded Hot Tamale Train metaphor alive. THE METAPHOR IS A ZOMBIE NOW.

Chelsie and Mark: lyrical hip-hop. Really, really good. More lyrical than hip-hop, to be honest, but so what. I have trouble finding things to say about this; that’s how good it was. No, wait, here’s something: Chelsie is dancing up to Mark’s level now! Which is pretty damned impressive, all things considered. Hm. What else can I say about this routine? “Tabitha is hot and Napoleon is lucky,” maybe, but that’s not strictly about the routine. Still, I suppose it will have to do.

Katee and Joshua: samba. This was fantastic. They raved about Joshua, and rightly (although I do wish they’d stop pretending he’s just some breaker off the street; he’s got contemporary training at least and possibly some ballroom as well), but Katee is one of the strongest girls in the competition this year and she absolutely fucking owned this piece. Great Latin dance demands a passionate performance, and Joshua and Katee skillfully made it look like they wanted to fuck on the dancefloor through the whole piece without ever being tawdry. And then Nigel demands to see Joshua’s father’s ass, just to see if it is genetic, because that’s exactly what a piece of this calibre deserved to be associated with.

Bottom three: Comfort and Chris, Chelsea and Thayne, Kourtni and Matt.
Going home: Chelsea and Chris.

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