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Send EmailThis is how far dance has sunk in the American public's estimation: By the time reality television executives got around to adding a dance competition to the mix of talent show-inspired programming, the market was already saturated with hopeful singers, models, starlets and fashion designers. But sometimes the last resort rises above everything that has come before it.
John O'Hurley and Charlotte Jorgensen on "Dancing With the Stars."
A contestant at a casting call in New York for "So You Think You Can Dance."
Martha Graham was telling the truth in her oft-quoted remark about the inherent simplicity of body language: "Movement never lies." The success of ABC's excellent ballroom program, "Dancing With the Stars," and Fox's "So You Think You Can Dance," an inferior show that is nonetheless captivating for its car-wreck appeal, proves a great deal about the potency of dance. In the end, that's more revealing than whether Kelly Monaco danced better than John O'Hurley in the final episode of "Stars."
(In any case, they both delivered sloppy, nerve-addled performances. Redemption comes on Sept. 20, at 8:30 p.m., when ABC is to broadcast a 90-minute dance-off between them. The winner will be announced on Sept. 22.)
Dancing isn't just about unearthing some inner, mysterious passion: dancing is hard. It serves as a magnifying glass, and no amount of slick talk or charm can hide the truth about your personality. The awkward sight of Evander Holyfield, a contestant on "Stars," performing with his eyes partly shut and his arms snaking forward in a half-hearted attempt at a swim stroke, was real life: most of us have a grim memory of watching a groom battle his way through the first dance at a wedding reception.
But along with Mr. Holyfield, the male celebrities on "Stars" - including Joey McIntyre and Mr. O'Hurley - approached dance with a disarming innocence. Even at their worst (Mr. McIntyre's paso doble, set to "Eye of the Tiger," and Mr. O'Hurley's freestyle finale to "I'm So Excited"), they exuded an enthralling fearlessness. They didn't care about embarrassing themselves, and that's part of what being a decent dancer is all about.
The women, however, painted a different picture. Trista Sutter, once a Miami Heat dancer, was unbearably self-conscious, full of excuses and lacking real grace. Her resistance to dancing an erotic rumba with her partner, Louis van Amstel, was rooted in lame trepidation; she said she thought it would be like cheating on her husband (the firefighter Ryan Sutter, whom she snagged in "The Bachelorette").
It was hard to begrudge Rachel Hunter her flicker of a smile when Ms. Sutter was voted off the program. But as a dancer, Ms. Hunter had problems of her own. Her legs may go on forever, but she lacks strength. Less alluring were her perceptible vanity and laziness, manifested in nearly every step of her under-rehearsed performances. She rarely relaxed long enough to allow her partner to lead; as badly as she wanted to win (and brother, did she), Ms. Hunter, as gorgeous as a Vegas showgirl, couldn't manipulate what mattered most: her voluptuous body.
The now famous Ms. Monaco, a soap-opera actress, transformed herself from a klutz into a focused, poised dancer whose emotional resilience was legible in the rehearsal studio and onstage. During the final show, Bruno Tonioli, a judge, proclaimed: "Cinderella, welcome to the ball. You are the shining example of how, with determination, positive attitude and hard work, you can have results."
Ms. Monaco, the show's underdog, is not a brilliant dancer, but she uses her innate assets - flexibility and an unforced sexiness - to great power, eventually managing to partially overcome her initial discomfort with movement. Ms. Monaco's performances were never flawless, but like the mythical Billy Elliot, she never gave up. Despite that boldness, she doesn't fake it; what's charming about her dancing is that she always remains slightly vulnerable. Even though we're watching on television, it feels alive.
In "So You Think You Can Dance," aptitude isn't nearly as important as attitude. Everyone on the show, from the dancers to the choreographers, is frantic to cultivate some. The prize for "Stars" is a trophy; on "So You Think You Can Dance," it is an apartment in New York for one year and $100,000.
But if New York is the place where all good dancers end up, why, after aspirants are selected from auditions in major American cities, does the show take place in Los Angeles? And why are the show's choreographers based in Los Angeles? Two of them, Dan Karaty and Brian Friedman, are film and music-video directors who specialize here in hip-hop; Mia Michaels does the lyrical dance; Mary Murphy is in charge of ballroom; and Alex Da Silva oversees salsa. They are described as being "five of the best choreographers in the world." Fox could have tried harder.
If the dancers, hugely uneven in terms of motivation and talent, are confused about what it takes to become a dancer, it is not really their fault. After all, they just think they're dancers, and there doesn't seem to be anyone on the show qualified to tell them otherwise. Clearly, the most worthwhile prize would have been a scholarship to the Juilliard School.
But it's unlikely that Nigel Lythgoe, the show's chief producer, would have gone for such a serious award. During the audition process in New York, he passed on a talented Juilliard student for a performance that wasn't "masculine" enough. This is perplexing, as Mr. Lythgoe seems to melt into a puddle whenever he is faced with lyrical dance, an expressive if ambiguously defined blend of jazz and ballet that stresses outstretched arms, spotlights and writhing.
After two finalists, Blake and Destini, performed a number like this on a recent episode, Mr. Lythgoe, judging the performance, announced, "In technique, you made my night - that was superb." Unfortunately for Mr. Lythgoe, the most concrete element about lyrical dance is that there are hardly any steps. Not to be picky, but that makes judging technique pretty near impossible.
What made "Stars" so captivating was how the dancing overshadowed everything else about the show. In "So You Think," dance is treated as an excuse to put pretty young things on display. Even more baffling, however, is the manner in which the choreographer-judges consistently refer to how adept the contestants are in "getting choreography." It's as if they believe that choreography is a style of dance instead of the art of designing one.
It wouldn't be surprising if David LaChapelle, the photographer who directed "Rize" - a film about krumping in South Central Los Angeles - was invited to participate as a celebrity judge in a future episode. Mr. LaChapelle's film focuses on the aggressive, rapid dance style created in reaction to the 1992 Rodney King riots, but its slick style - interviews stretched thin, quick cuts, odd angles and the tendency to treat each scene like a fashion shoot - turns the subject into something almost as superficial as "So You Think You Can Dance."
It would have been far more rewarding if Spike Jonze had tackled the same material. Mr. Jonze, who has directed a number of superb music videos, possesses a startling imagination.
In "Torrance Rises," a hilarious 34-minute mock-documentary, Mr. Jonze stars as Richard Koufey, an earnest choreographer whose Torrance Community Dance Group is on its way to perform with the British D.J. Fatboy Slim at the MTV Video Music Awards. Both "Praise You," the award-winning standalone video, and "Torrance Rises" are available on the Directors Label's DVD "The Work of Director Spike Jonze: A Collection of Music Videos, Short Films, Documentaries and Rarities."
As strange as it may sound, "Torrance Rises" (1999) is one of the finest dance films to emerge in recent years. Mr. Jonze is somehow tender in his depiction of the ridiculous Koufey. Even though it exists in a precarious place between fact and fiction, it is timeless in how it effectively cracks open a window to reveal the real soul of dance, where tantrums and joy abound, and where seemingly lousy choreography, with the right theatrical touch, has the potential to become beautiful.
It would be brilliant if "So You Think You Can Dance" turned out to be a deliberate farce. But Hollywood isn't that smart.
