And the winners... of So You Think You Can Dance... are... PROBABLY MORE TIRED THAN ANY OF US CAN IMAGINE! HOORAY! THEY SURELY WANT TO BE LEFT ALONE! WEE! Seriously, stop tweeting at them, Christina Applegate.
We'll get to the results in a bit, but first: I started this season by comparing So You Think You Can Dance to American Idol, and now, I will gleefully contrast the two Fox juggernauts. Every American Idol finale feels like a painful elegy, a disturbing culmination where a frail white dude wins everything and Jennifer Holliday chews up the runner-up's face. It's a bloodletting. Meanwhile, every SYTYCD finale feels like a quaint graduation ceremony at an arts academy. The students present themselves and receive funky diplomas from their professors Nigel Lythgoe, Mary Murphy, teary-eyed dandy Adam Shankman, your elegant great aunt Debbie Allen, smirking prom queen Tyce Diorio, and the REAL EXCITED Lil C. It's just cute. An ideal setup.
So, let's roll through a slideshow of the big finale and wind up with a discussion about the winners. Have a handkerchief handy, because it's going to get gay.
Your panel of judges! August and esteemed. I'm glad Debbie Allen is dressed like a scandalized countess in a murder mystery ("My diamonds!"), but I could do without the vogueing lobster on Mary Murphy's boob. Adam Shankman and Tyce Diorio are wearing identical attention spans, and I have to say Nigel Lythgoe stayed pretty tolerable throughout the evening. I cackled when he reminded Cyrus that he didn't vote for him. He phrased it diplomatically, but I still heard, "Cyrus, your 'dancing' is just jittering and quaking, and if I wanted that to win So You Think You Can Dance, I'd just hand the crown to Mia Michaels during one of her Yohimbine tantrums."
Matthew and Audrey dredged up their Titanic routine. Very cheesy, but that chaise is straight-up Reinvention Tour, so I dug it. Oh, and Matthew's pop-o-matic ass flew at us like pinata candy. Smile.
Witney is better than this hip-hop routine, and she's way better than looking like Taylor Dayne's raunchy audition to join The Black Eyed Peas. Still, it was cool to see her work with the seriously unbeatable tWitch again, since he brought it real hard. Judging by the gestures here, they're requesting that we TELL IT TO THEIR HEARTS. Challenge accepted.
George. Can't say I remember him all that well, but he seems like a fine chap. Too bad Tiffany is wearing two meringue cookies and a powdered sugar tunic here. Is this a Project Runway challenge? Is Gristedes a sponsor? Because Tiffany's outfit is in the bottom two with Mary Murphy's lobster brooch and construction paper bangs.
Dear Cole: Throw it in me. "It" meaning you. Unzip your bullfightin' pants, approach me like the stoic matador from the "Take a Bow" video, and dropkick most of your favorite body parts into my trembling frame. Use your ninja tactics when engaged! Did you know that when I look at you, my eyes turn into gleaming throwing stars? Big fact. You may not have won So You Think You Can Dance, but you're certainly the champion of So You Have Permission To Really Skullbang This Mouthbreathing Blogger.
Just for the hell of it. Show us that rigid nunchaku through yo' flimsy Lycra, Cole. Lindsay, stop shrouding it with your "artistry."
Looks like a friendly routine, but Will is actually informing Amelia that she's not Diablo Cody.
I'm a contrarian for sure, but I really don't understand the big deal about this routine. Chehon and Allison certainly jeted and mugged the hell out of it, but I just don't respond to overwrought choreography. And self-gagging gestures, as pictured above. It didn't help that Mary Murphy introduced the act by noting, "IT'S ABOUT THE HOLOCAUST, KIDS. AIN'T NO FUN AND GAMES WHEN THE GESTAPO'S AT YER DOOR. KNOCK, KNOCK, PUT THE DIARY AWAY, ANNE. SUITCASES, I LOVE 'EM. RALPH FIENNES IN SCHINDLER'S LIST, I'D LET HIM TAKE ME ON A TRAIN RIDE ANYWHERE! SOPHIE CHOOSES HOT TAMALES, TOOT, TOOT!"
Now this was worth revisiting. Eliana and Alex Wong recreated their stark "Bang, Bang" routine and just throttled us with eerieness. Alex Wong's pert ass actually made involuntary "bang-bang" noises throughout, which was adorable. It should be noted that Eliana's acting abilities are far superior to her fellow competitors', particularly Tiffany's.
Awww, disco. An underrated genre on SYTYCD, especially since it sometimes produces the most gymnastic feats on the show. Note the level of Studio 54 glitter in this picture. Extreme. Lauren Hutton's cocaine is getting mixed up with Giorgio Moroder's cocaine, and The Village People construction worker's cocaine is raining over both. Glamor.
Anya looked gorgeous and Chehon looked poised and commanding in this tango revamp, but I much prefer the routines where Chehon gets to fly like McKayla Maroney over our nation. I'd have died to see his ballet routine with Eliana again. That was magic. And bulge-y, bulge-y, bulge-y. I could recognize that white bulge in a field of bulges. Like Where's Waldo in the candy cane factory, kids.
Here, Cyrus and his friends dress like Melissa Leo in Homicide: Life on the Street and earn rightful kudos for their work. I obviously can't stand the sight of Cyrus or his well-exploited dance niche anymore, so I was pleased to watch the bad-ass Comfort sway and snarl like the high priestess of funk that she is.
Tiffany is a true talent, but she's just not that memorable. Seriously, how did she outlast Witney and Lindsay? Those girls stared into the camera every week and all but clamored, "Remember my NAME!" I don't even remember watching this, and you know I have mad love for Mr. Ade.
This was an interlude featuring a very talented performer from the auditions. It was also frightening as hell, like something lurking in Vince Vaughn's unconscious in The Cell. Yes, that's a real person in all gold. Even Rod Serling would get the creeps from this.
In her live performance, Carly Rae Jepsen got a few of her friends together and staged an Urban Outfitters window display. All they need now are a couple of goofy books like 101 Hipster Dog Jokes or a copy of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar with a forward by Avril Lavigne.
Let us take this time to note Cyrus' fiiiiiiine body. He is so damn thin! I'm always looking for dudes who aren't doing the Channing Tatum thing. Bring me teeny waists, clunky boots, and miniscule tanktops, thanks. I want boys who dress like Fefe Dobson.
And now, get ready to lay eyes upon the two winners of So You Think You Can Dance. Cat Deeley announced their names in a rush at the 1:52 mark, and they are...
Chehon and Eliana! Um, it's a miracle! I'm serious! I really thought Cyrus and Tiffany were going to pull it off using a combination of everyman/everywoman appeal and show-stopping inferiority. But no, the high-flying Chehon and the pole-splaying Eliana took home the big win, and surely we can agree that's a triumph. I'd pay to see both of these kids. Hell, I'd pay just to listen to Chehon, whose voice is a natural aphrodisiac like chocolate or trauma. Good for the two of them. Hopefully Cyrus hasn't electrocuted himself with his own dance moves.
What'd you think of the finale? And of this season? Will you miss the hotness of these dudes, or would you throw them overboard with the Heart of the Ocean and Matthew's sketches?
