Doing a song and a dance

Where I live, I get two Tamil channels - Vijay and Sun. While both of them have their share of tear jerking megaserials and a host of programs living off the movie industry it is their respective mutations of American Idol that I find least palatable. I can flick on the telly during prime time and I'm guaranteed to watch someone crooning earnestly on one channel and catch a blighter shaking a limb on the other - replete with an elaborate set, accompanying artists, a captive audience and judges with questionable credentials and a loud compere. Families, employees, individuals and just about any member of human society is playing a part, competing against one another in a hundred different combinations of individuals, teams, pairs, all on their way up to a prize and hence glory, under the glare of arc lights and the public eye.

Now, I don't have a bias between the two arts themselves but between the song and dance shows, the song variety seems to be less irritating. I think the structured options available to hone one's singing and the quality of judges seem to be the main reasons behind this. It is common to find boys and girls getting trained in music (classical/carnatic). Training in classical music provides one with a set of transferable skills that can be leveraged in the arena of film music to their advantage and the solid grounding in technique makes them a better singer, whatever be the genre. Contrast this with the case of dancing. Relative to singing, fewer numbers take up lessons in classical dancing, much less in cine dancing. Moreover, learning the former doesn't necessarily equip the practitioner to do well in the latter, which, over the years, has been reduced to a set of exercise drills done in bad taste and skimpy dresses, where grace is conspicuous in its absence, thus making it appear to be the low hanging fruit that is within the reach of just about anyone. While it is not fair to expect a Salangai Oli in every movie that is being made, fewer performers of quality, and falling standards have combined to make film dancing, or whatever passes for it these days, as the exclusive fiefdom of a handful of dance masters and their students, who in their quest for innovation and pandering to the "paying public" have only added to the isolation to the extent of a stigma being attached to it rather firmly. If this theory is valid, which I think it is, then it not only explains the calibre of the participants in these shows but also that of the judges.

The shows involving the TV personalities - armed with a license to entertain us - have a flavor of their own. Since most of them have been on screen, by showcasing their skills in cooking to dancing and everything inbetween, these shows are more elaborate and involve a lot of practice sessions which are also meticulously documented and broadcast for the entertainment starved viewers.

Since there appears to be very little by way of guidelines to gauge the performances, the pronouncements of the judges are mostly arbitrary, definitely vague, often questionable and always hollow. The exchanges between the judger and the judgee, which has to happen a few seconds after the performance is over, even before the contestant has had a chance to get a breath, can lead to some very fine moments on television.

"Neenga eppdi panneenga?" at a contestant who has just finished his routine and is sweating profusely and panting equally profusely.

"Master....(puff)....(puff)..." volunteers the judgee.

"Illa innikki neenga eppdi pannadha nenaikkareenga?" persists the judge rather solemnly.

What you've read above is now a compulsory routine that leaves me wondering as to who is playing the role of judge.

"Unga opening nalla irundhudhu...hand nalla panneenga..." intervenes the second judge morosely, but stirs the pot by, "anaa...idhu dhaan unga best-a?"

The tension is now palpable and the ball has been put back in the judgee's court.

"Illa master...adhu" offers the judgee as if in defence against an as yet unknown charge.

"Unga dance-la heavy movements avvlova illa...but nalla sync therinjichu" observes the keen first judge.

"Song energy nalla irukku but konjam steps miss aavudhu" states the chief guest of the show, considered an accomplished dancer.

A few more of such exchanges, each one contradicting the previous one and heading nowhere in particular, robs the judgee of any sense of what lies ahead and leaves him gawking completely clueless. The judges and the chief guest look on like a firing squad would look at someone they are about to decimate and an eerie silence descends on the proceedings.

At this juncture, the episode's guest does everyone concerned a favor and breaks the silence with a "You have been selected" with feigned excitement, at which point the contestant goes down on his knees and into wild convulsions and makes gestures that seem to indicate emotions that can be inferred as a mixture of relief, gratitude and happiness, in that order, and the judges, priding themselves on having added drama to the show, break into an all-knowing, sagely smile, and the audience, which must, by law, include the performer's mom with tears in her eyes, breaks into a round of applause and the compere states the obvious in a high pitch and throws in jargon like "spot selection/cool zone/safe zone" and the show sails on to another contestant, episode and a season. A celebration of mediocrity and a lesson in marketing.

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