A report from inside
the Nokia Theatre on the last showdown between the small-town
guy and the big (possibly) gay hope.
It's not quite the
finale the media's been hungering for: Flagrant Christian
vs. Presumed Homosexual, otherwise known as Danny Gokey vs.
Adam Lambert. After Danny's surprise elimination last week,
the last two Idols standing are the affable Kris Allen -- a
more ignorably Christian guitar-strummer from Arkansas -- and
Adam, the operatic Californian "rocker" who forced
America to deal with his love of eyeliner.
I'm all for Adam
over Kris; let's clear that up right now. In the last few
weeks, however, Adam has chagrined me. Too much dependence on
his signature Maria Callas screech. Too little success in
establishing the crucial "emotional connection" that
has historically moved Americans, even obese ones, to vote
wildly for an Idol. Adam has seemed to disappear further into
an opaque theatricality, pissing me off. Because I want him to
win.
Here's an
eyewitness report of how his last chance to nail the title
unfolded.
Approaching the Nokia Theatre:
Two flustered, almost panicked, pear-shaped ladies are
jaywalking across six lanes of downtown L.A. traffic, clutching
signs that read "Delaware Loves Adam!" We follow
them, somewhat more dispassionately, to the theater entrance,
where a bossy sort brays at the converging mob: "No cell
phones inside! No cell phones!"
Can this many Los
Angelenos even survive without their iPhones apps? "Live
TV," my industry-insider friend Sandy says.
"Can't have all that ringing." Not to mention
furtive videotaping. After a quick sprint back to the
rent-a-Ford to stash our phones, we're free to enter.
Inside the lobby:
Amid the rampaging tweens I spot an elderly woman wearing a
cape with the words "Adam Lambert" written in rainbow
glitter-glue on the back. Keen Idol fans will recognize this as
an homage to the cape Katy Perry wore on last week's show.
The view from Seat 413:
Man, we have killer seats! About 40 feet from the stage! Only a
few rows behind mom of fourth-place finisher Allison Iraheta!
(Thanks, insider-industry friend, Sandy.) That said, I
can't stop thinking that my seat number, unlucky 413,
doesn't bode well for my Adam hopes.
The familiar TV set is
in place, its gigantic
Atlas Shrugged
globes threatening to fall on someone (as one nearly did a
couple weeks ago). On this particular night the interior of the
Nokia Theatre is all blue blinking techno-lighting; I feel like
I'm trapped inside a massive cell phone that's trying
to order itself a pizza. No cell phones allowed!
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