Dancing days are here again

A couple weeks ago the auditions for the upcoming season of one of my favorite shows, So You Think You Can Dance (dance, dance...), rolled through Salt Lake City. I'm too old to try out for the show (I'm sure that's the only thing keeping me from making it as a contestant), but luckily there's no age limit for audition audience members. Also luckily, there were no nondisclosure forms or anything like that involved, so I can tell everyone what I saw without breaking any rules.

My brother and sisters attended last year's auditions and warned me it was actually quite boring, plus the last time I attended any SYTYCD event in person I fainted and nearly crushed my friend Gaby. But those concerns aside, I was confident I'd enjoy myself, if nothing else because I was attending with my friends Amy, Jo and Ashley, all fans of the show and fun people to hang out with.

My ultimate goal was to see Cat Deeley, the foxy blonde on the right of the above photo and my favorite TV personality. I knew it would be tricky, since she's usually out in the hallways interviewing the dancers before and after their auditions rather than in the auditorium, but I was determined. After a surprisingly short amount of time waiting in line outside the theater, we were ushered in. Alas, the lower section was already full, so we were sent to sit up in the mezzanine. We could still see the stage just fine, but we couldn't see the judges (Mary and Nigel, pictured above, plus Adam Shankman, the producer of the Step Up franchise) unless we stood up and leaned over the railing.

The initial auditions had happened over the previous two days, where would-be dancers performed for lower-level producers, hoping to get a callback to dance in front of the TV judges. Those chosen to come back were brought out onto the stage in groups of ten. They'd line up, five on each side, and one at a time they'd prance out to center stage and give it their all until Nigel called "next dancer." There was a little of everything: contemporary, ballet, hip-hop, ballroom, breakers, African, Latin, and of course a couple of goofballs--the ones that make it on the show as the "bad auditions."

After all ten acts had had their chance, Nigel would call for everyone to dance, and they'd crowd into the middle, trying to get the judges' attention and approval. It reminded me of a Mormon dance with better talent--one person at a time dancing into the middle of the circle and showing off, with only brief stretches of everyone dancing at the same time. Each group of ten danced to the same Chris Brown song, and amazingly I never got sick of it, even though it was an extended version and I heard it about a dozen times.

(While I'm thinking about it, I'm going to take a second and--shocking, I know--stick up for Chris Brown. Or, at least stick up for his right to work. It's impossible to stick up for what he did to Rihanna; that was indefensible. But after his performances last month at the Grammys and during halftime of the NBA All Star Game, I saw comments from many of Facebook, Twitter and elsewhere that it was "unforgiveable" that he was allowed to perform.

I believe we have a moral obligation to forgive others, but leaving that aside...even if you refuse to forgive his heinous actions, shouldn't he still be allowed to earn a living? Is it because it's only been three years? How long until it's "ok" for him to perform on TV? Or is it because of his chosen profession--that if he became a plumber or a fast food cook or a security guard or something, that would be acceptable, but he can't be a rich and famous entertainer? The implication with that argument is that the occupation "celebrity" is inherently better than those other jobs, but that's simply not true.

Chris Brown has given little or no indication that he's changed for the better since the incident three years ago, and if I were producing a show like the Grammys I would certainly think twice before inviting him to perform,  but banning someone from earning a living because they're a "bad person" is unjust. If I'm overlooking some aspect of this, please let me know in the comments. Putting my soapbox away now...)

After each group of ten had finished, the dancers would line up, and Nigel would call the numbers of those who would be invited back. One group had seven go through, one zero, but overall about one-third made it through this round. One of the girls who made it was the daughter of "the real Ringo Starr." If you watched the show last year, you know who I'm talking about. We saw an old man in the lobby wearing a pink, Sgt. Pepper-style uniform, and I'm assuming that was "Ringo" himself. So when the Salt Lake audition episode airs, brace yourselves for at least one excruciating segment. (Update: found the video from last season. Watch if you dare.)

Once all the groups were done, the solo auditions began. This part was actually pretty boring; there was an afternoon session as well, and that's probably all they got to see. I'm glad I was there in the morning for the group dances. Nigel would ask each contestant a bunch of questions about what they do for a living, how long they've been dancing, etc. Then they'd dance, and then all three judges would give their critique. Most of their comments were much longer than what they show on TV. Each solo-er was onstage for six or seven minutes, with only about 90 seconds of dancing.

We saw about ten solos, including one girl with dyed-red hair who was the first one we saw in the group stage. She's from South Ogden, is only 18, and was really impressive. I thought they'd put her straight through "to Vegas" (the next level of the competition), but they asked her to stay for the choreography round that night (basically a last chance for dancers the judges are on the fence about). I hope she made it through.

Two guys got tickets to Vegas. One was the last guy cut before the finalists were announced two seasons ago, and one was a gymnast who had only been dancing for two years. They brought his grandma up to the judges' table to watch his audition, and when that happens you know they aren't saying no. A few others made it to choreography, and a few were sent home. Then they broke for lunch, and it was time for us to go home as well.

As we exited the auditorium, I finally got my wish: Jo pointed out that my favorite Brummie was on the balcony above taping an interview. I waved at Cat, but she didn't wave back. But it was still worth it. And I'm sure our paths will cross again someday. So I think I can dream (dream, dream...)