The downside of ‘Idol’ worship

In his usual fashion, Ryan Seacrest was struggling to build enough tension to drag viewers through the half-hour of filler that constitutes a Wednesday-night “American Idol.”

“Can you handle the results?!?” he thundered.

Why yes, yes I can.  I could handle them even better without 25 minutes of small talk, commercial breaks, endless recaps and one of those infernal group singalongs. Better yet, I could have skipped them entirely and demanded TiVo serve me up something compelling and edifying. Like "Frontline." Or “The Starlet.”

Thing is, I’d truly love to hate “American Idol.”

But “Idol” is frankly so bland that loathing it isn't worth my energy.  If not for Simon’s brief moments of screen time and the whirlwind synth flourish of the show’s opening, I’d find more drama in a shoeshine.

At least a show like “America’s Next Top Model” rewards us with drama and tears when a hopeful is sent packing; “Apprentice” losers get their one final cab ride of regret.

“Idol,” though, is desperate to maintain its stage smile and jazz hands. It vainly sticks its chin up and never lets us see it sweat.

It is the culmination of decades of bland, cynical corporate entertainment costumed in pastel colors and grins.  It is the “Miss America” pageant without swimsuits. It is “Ice Capades” without the ice.  It is the bastard stepchild of “American Bandstand” and the Jerry Lewis telethon. It is the Wonder Bread of television.

Waiting ... waiting ...
Perhaps, then, I should be giving “Idol” credit for trying so hard to be liked, like a new kid in second-period chemistry. Seacrest gets extra credit for shamelessly pandering to every last viewer, reminding us that if we don’t rush to our phones and vote, if we don't indulge in the buzz, we might betray our favorite hopeful and send them back to whatever sort of “Surreal Life” obscurity awaits “Idol” has-beens.

At its best, "Idol" channels bland top-40 radio — Seacrest should be familiar with that, of course — but its devotion to sheer time wastage makes Casey Kasem look like the very model of efficiency. (I spent about a third of my childhood eagerly waiting for ... Casey … to … announce … No. 1.)

Not even televised pro bowling can match the talent of "American Idol" in stretching a scant few slivers of drama into a full 90 minutes per week. Tuesday shows take a handful of performances of generally low-royalty songs and cover them in a rich coating of cameo celebrity appearances (Hi, Heather Locklear!  Hi, cast of “Stacked”!); shameless in-show promos (Coke may get a prize for the most graceless product placement in history); utterly canned bio clips and, of course, more commercial breaks than anyone should endure.

Results shows are even worse — perhaps three minutes of useful TV stretched like Silly Putty. By comparison, “Apprentice” and “Top Model,” even “Survivor,” are the very soul of brevity.

If “Idol” had an edge, it might better justify its endless reams of filler. But even its more lively moments are undermined by bad sports clichés and saccharine smiles. “I’m just really blessed to have gotten this far,” beamed Constantine Maroulis as he got the hook.  That sort of gracious loserdom might fly in Little League and pie-baking contests, but dude, this is the music industry. Check your humility and good will at the door.

MORE FROM AMERICAN IDOL

Happy birthday, Simon, the best mean Brit ever

Happy birthday, Simon, the best mean Brit ever ‘Idol Gives Back’ returns to ‘American Idol’ Ellen brings EveryFan sensibility to ‘Idol’ Paula Abdul wishes Ellen luck on ‘Idol’   Add American Idol headlines to your news reader: