American Idol's third-season finale ended with a scene straight from its first: a young woman (this year's stupendously talented Fantasia Barrino) bawling through a ballad in front of the millions of TV viewers who had voted her to stardom. But despite the similarities, this season's déjà vu happy ending hid the fact that a bit of the shine had come off America's most popular talent show. Plagued by charges of a flawed voting system, Idol seemed to falter behind its unspoken, powerful premise: that Americans could participate in a pop-culture democracy fairly, and that their choices would be more egalitarian and merit-based than those made by the record industry.
This year's controversy stemmed from the advancement two weeks ago of contestant Jasmine Trias rather than La Toya London. Trias' voice was pleasant enough, but she lacked London's rich expressiveness, power, and control. What Trias did have, however, was the undying support of the people of Hawaii, who flooded the phone lines to back their home-state girl.
London's departure drew the ire of the audience and the incredulity of the celebrity judges (Randy Jackson, Paula Abdul, and Simon Cowell), who assess the finalists' performances but don't cast votes. Broadcast & Cable magazine ran an in-depth study on Idol's voting process, arguing that millions of voters weren't getting through thanks to jammed phone lines and nefarious power-dialers who used high-speed Internet connections and special software to automatically cast thousands of votes. Concerns about Idol's voting procedures had surfaced during its first year, but criticism sharpened this season when a singer who many felt was clearly inferior outlasted one deemed more deserving.
With that, much of the democratic draw -- the notion that Idol viewers were shaping the contestants' fates -- evaporated. Regionalism, a flawed voting system, charges of racism (although those who espoused this view conveniently forgot that Trias is also a woman of color): All the problems of the real world weren't meant to throw off Idol results. The show is designed to reflect the ideals of our democratic system, and the Idol winner is supposed to be of the people, created by the people and for the people.
Some of that premise remains intact. America still seems to vote for good singers even if they look more like regular people and less like the music industry's teen queens Skinny (Avril Lavigne), Skanky (Christina Aguilera), and Sapphic-When-It-Suits-Me (Britney Spears). First-season winner Kelly Clarkson is a powerhouse belter whose voice outshines her girl-next-door looks, and for the second-season's truly large Ruben Studdard, singing a disco song is a full-on cardio workout. This year, the talent-over-looks trend continued: Both winner Barrino and runner-up Diana DeGarmo are nice-looking enough, but their singing abilities are the real attraction.
Before this year, watching America vote for talented but normal-looking people was inspiring. I could think that perhaps U.S. consumers don't need the packaging, the manufactured edge, the ho appeal of conventionally made entertainers. In reality, of course, the Idol contestants undergo image scrutiny and unforgiving makeovers as frequently as the next performer. Remember second-season runner-up Clay Aiken? He was a dead ringer for Cynthia Nixon until someone started "piece-ing" his hair and dressing him better.
But once that democratic process was called into question, Idol's flaws and excesses became just too much to take. To tell the truth, I had largely tuned out this Idol before the voting scandal took place; that power-of-the-people notion had started to fray for me. I couldn't stand the judges' selection of innocuous John Stevens and Jon Peter Lewis, two pale, geeky boys who clearly appeal to the Aiken fan base: pre-teen girls who blow lots of money on their celebrity crushes. The whorish product placements, the contestants barking their way through commercial spots like trained seals, the Cruella de Ville image makeovers: By show's end, the intrusion of big business had became unavoidably and unbearably ugly. For me, this year's Idol had little of the spontaneity, the joy of discovering an evolving performer. Now that the show has failed to live up to a good deal of its idealistic premise, why should I go back?
Wednesday night's show did little to improve the mood. The bloated behemoth of a finale stretched on for a merciless two hours, padded out by the sweaty desperation of celebrity has-beens (Jennifer Love Hewitt) and celebrity wannabes (former Idol contestants). There were the usual barbs about host Ryan Seacrest's ambiguous sexual orientation, makeup jobs (eyelashes like Venus flytraps, explosions of glitter) that seemed like they had been done by angry drag queens, embarrassing displays of civic pride from the hopefuls' hometowns, and performances by cast-off contestants that reminded us why they had been booted in the first place.
But sit through it we did, on tenterhooks to see if Barrino, who wields an astonishing voice and sings as if her heart is on fire, would beat out the capable-but-blah DeGarmo. And beat her she did: The sight of Barrino's no-holds-barred joy ("I broke my shoe!") and her goosebump-worthy rendition of Idol single "I Believe" were galvanizing, and nearly worth the agony of the previous hours. We believed, too, when Barrino sang that she could "overcome any obstacle … shine my light for all to see."
The song was a fitting end for this year's Idol -- unlike the first season's single, "I Believe" is more about star power, the forceful charisma and self-confidence of one unstoppable individual. Clarkson's song, "A Moment Like This," however, depicts a fairy-tale kiss between the singer and the audience that made her what she is. "Some people wait a lifetime / For a moment like this / Some people search forever / For that one special kiss / Oh, I can't believe it's happening to me," Clarkson sang.
At that point, Idol votes reflected a pure convergence, a relational harmony: Popularity was earned through merit, a singer's talent was rewarded by the mandate of the people. That's no longer a sure thing. Good luck to the contestants in season four. These days, Idol's vote inspires little confidence, indeed.
Noy Thrupkaew is a Prospect senior correspondent.
