Ihate it when people
overstate the importance of television events, but I'm going to risk
doing it anyway. I loved watching Ruben Studdard become the next
American Idol. Watching the 360-pound ''velvet teddy bear''
-- as he was dubbed by soul diva Gladys Knight -- squeak past the
only American Idol contestant who made a more unlikely pop
star than he did, was more than cool. It was -- and this is the part
where I overstate the importance of a television event -- a
transcendent moment. OK, maybe that's a little much, but it sure did
cheer me up.
As cheesy as the show can be -- and it can be cheesy; like a bad
karaoke party where you also have to watch the host's goofy home
movies -- Idol is about the closest thing to democracy we
have left in America.
The premise is simple (and a great diversion for jaded news
junkies). The judges weed a cast of tens of thousands down to 10
wannabe superstars, choosing some based on raw talent, others on
image and marketability. The producers dust off a bunch of old-time
music that's easy to score the rights to, and the kids belt them out
with the breathless innocence of people who were born in the 1980s
and never heard of the songs, let alone Neil Sedaka. And then
America phones it in. They even count the overvotes! Of course, this
being an American election, there are controversies over the vote
tally, and there may yet be a recount.
But even with the controversy over the final vote spread (1,300,
13,000 or 130,000 -- where to put the decimal?), the show has been a
small but needed diversion from much of what's going on these days.
America increasingly has turned into a mean-spirited place. We seize
on petty scandals for cheap political gain but tolerate untruths of
far more deadly importance. Almost two years after the hopeful
moments that followed Sept. 11, we've never been more divided.
We don't just oppose our opponents; we hate their guts. Politics
is mean. Talk radio is mean. Cable news is mean. Even our
entertainment is centered on ever-increasing levels of violence and
humiliation. We've become a country that can't even have a
difference of opinion without turning it into a CD burning.
But sometimes, America gets it just right, choosing talent over
image, substance over style and friendly competition over winning at
all costs. This season, Americans looked at a field of striving,
young performers and weeded it down to two guys you'd never picture
on a video shoot with Justin Timberlake. And they did it for the
right reasons -- because they were the best.
OUTTA BROADWAY
Ruben is Rubinesque and shy; an R&B Biggie Smalls with
dimples but without the drama (and for now, thankfully, without P.
Diddy). Clay, with the winks, the hair and the concert-hall
delivery, is straight outta Broadway (I see lots of movie scores in
his future). Both of them can, in Randy Jackson's words, sing their
faces off. And both will walk away from the show with lucrative
recording contracts and hopefully become big successes.
And in a coincidence that seems fitting for something called
American Idol, in the end, it came down to black and white,
though most writers and Web polls predicted a Clay victory. The idea
was that the white performer with the booming voice would always
trump the brotha who sang in church, and so was supposed to be able
to sing anyway. One column, ominously titled White Supremacy,
went so far as to say that a black person had a better chance of
surviving the first 15 minutes of a horror flick than winning at
reality TV.
It didn't work out that way. With 22 million votes cast, and by a
slim -- if bungled -- 50.3 percent to 49.7 percent margin, Ruben
took it home.
Host Ryan Seacrest said that the man won even Florida . . . at
least until the recount.
joyannreid@hotmail.com
