America's Got Talent Season Four Premiere, Part 2 Recap

Much less filler before the credits tonight, but we are once again reminded of the cool prizes: one million dollars and "the chance to perform in the entertainment capital of the world, Las Vegas!" Okay, let's deconstruct that: The chance to perform? You mean if you jump through all the hoops necessary to actually win this competition, you not only do not get a contract, you not only do not get a show of your own, you only get a chance to perform? Technically, everyone who gets through the audition rounds "performs" in Vegas. That means everyone who even auditions gets "a chance", so how is that even a prize?

Secondly, this million-dollar prize they keep pimping is payable over 40 YEARS. That's $25,000 a year. Does that seem like rakin' it in to you? $2,083 a month? What if you're on one of those 20-person dance teams or choral ensembles? Will 100 bucks a month even pay your cable bill, let alone your rent? And that would be your rent in Vegas, I suppose, unless you want to commute to your cushy Sunset Strip job from Idaho or wherever with your 19 teammates. Still think you can pay off all your bills? Still want to quit your job? How about this last little factoid: that $25K a year is BEFORE TAXES. With prizes like that, who needs indentured servitude?

Tonight's show starts in Seattle, because they have so much talent to spare, they need a talent overflow lot. The judges are introduced, and Piers Morgan looks dapper in a crisp white shirt and blue blazer. Sharon Osbourne continues with the moratorium on color, but relieves the omnipresent black with a sharply-tailored white jacket, and David Hasselhoff brings the 70s with his vest-over-untucked-shirt-and-massive-neckchain ensemble. Groovy, dude!

We meet Manuela Horton, a pretty, blonde Germanic woman who is a stay-at-home mom of two. Pictures of her adorable family are shown as Manuela recounts their fondness for singing together (over the strains of "Edelweiss", natch). So far, so Sound of Music.

Ye gods! That ain't Maria that just stepped out on stage. Manuela is now clad in a completely different outfit: a skin-tight black latex dominatrix getup with matching black wig, riding crop, mile-high stilettos and, oh, yes, a tail. The needle goes scratching off "Edelweiss" as the audience loses their shit. Besides the outfit, we learn that Manuela is 6'2" even BEFORE the insane shoes, so clearly she cuts a more imposing figure than we may realize on the television. She announces that she will "dominate you in a very special way". Wow, this could get ugly.

But then after Manuela starts singing, then starts yodeling, then starts dancing around like a goofball in her giant shoes, it just gets really silly and funny and awesome, and as Nick Cannon puts it, "Oddly entertaining". The audience loves it, and the Hoff is completely mesmerized. Nobody even buzzes her, and Piers sums things up by saying, and I quote, "If I'd woken up this morning and thought, 'I know-we're in Seattle, I know what we're going to see: a giant, yodeling dominatrix!'...it was very entertaining!" Hoff, clearly recognizing his Teutonic constituency, emphatically casts his Ja vote, and Piers and Sharon add their Jas. Giant, yodeling Manuela scampers off stage, tail and all, and she literally skips down the hallway in those crazy-ass shoes. Now that's a talent!

Next, we see the shiniest robots ever to clank on stage at an America's Got Talent competition. They are the Comic-Bots, and not only do they play music, they also breakdance, although no word yet whether they can assemble cars or help Shia LaBouef save the world. They have built their costumes completely from scrap, so they have my vote for the recycling of it all. Fortunately, they are also good performers, so the judges happily send them on through, as well. Nick calls them "Transformers from the 'hood". Hee. I liked Jerry Springer, but Nick Cannon has brought his personality, and it ain't bad.

Tom Durnin, originally from Brooklyn, is an unassuming-looking chap, but he is billed as a retired firefighter, and that is a completely separate class of people from us regular folks, so this could be more interesting than it looks. He says he's just here to "do his thing", and his "thing" is to dance surprisingly well to Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back" while doing awesome and hilarious magic tricks. The skinny lil' white dude can break it down, yo! The audience and judges are thoroughly charmed, and Tom is going to Vegas.

Continuing with the Montage of Triumph to the tune of "It's Your Thing" by the Isley Brothers, we get tiny girl rockers G Force, clad in Barbie pink and singing P!nk ("So What"), then heading into the break we are promised still more amazing stuff. Wow, no suckage, yet; good deal! Time for some, I suppose.

Still in Seattle, we meet Rafael Serrano, a very large fellow who works as a bouncer. Rafael discusses how tough you have to be to, um, bounce, and then we hear Rafael's going to sing. Hmm. Nick notes that Rafael is in his sock feet, and noone knows what to make of that, but he still looks pretty imposing. That is, right up until the disco music starts, and he commences tossing his Jeri-Curl around like Miss Donna Summer, and singing "Last Dance" (pretty badly). The audience jeers, Piers and Hoff buzz, but Sharon gets up to disco with David and therefore misses Rafael's pièce de résistance, which is to culminate his routine in a split! He's pretty flexible for a giant gay bouncer, he is. That explains no shoes, then.

Rafael sasses, "You din't know that a fat boy could do that, huh?" and the previously-booing crowd cheers his moxie. Despite the goodwill, Piers and Hoff's Nos cancel out Shazzer's Yes, because let's face it: Rafael's cooler than we thought, but he still sings like ass. He leaves with good humor, though, having definitely left his mark.

Erik and Rickie, both 8, are adorable dance partners who have been together for four years. They claim not to have a crush on each other but act suspiciously like an old married couple. They look sharp, and I expect them to be Awesome as they dance to the Tina Turner version of "Proud Mary", but in reality they're just Very Good. They've clearly had a lot of instruction and practice, but I don't see a natural aptitude. But of course they go straight through to Vegas, because they're cute as freakin' buttons. Erik does a pretty cool Backwards Worm, though; I'll give 'em that. Hoff goes to the "You're what this show's all about" place for the first (but not the last) time of the season.

Hey, almost halfway through the show, and only one reject so far! Maybe America does have Talent! And now we are in Miami, "A city with no rules," which slogan was probably not approved by the Miami-Dade P.D., and of course we have lots of beach-and-bikini shots accompanied by the entirely-anticipated Miami Vice theme (well, CSI's on another network; what can ya do?).

First to audition is Jennifer Gaudix, described as a Miami native, and yet she is shown getting out of a cab with a giant suitcase, so the plot is already beginning to thicken. And I think my SuckDar is beginning to stir, as well. She is clad in head-to-toe bubblegum pink, so of course now we get the Pink Panther theme (subtlety is not the strong suit of America's Got Talent, you guys). As I stare transfixed by her giant, tarantula-esque fake lashes, I am nonplussed to hear that she has the opportunity to drop one in a heart patient, working as she does in the Department of Cardio-Thoracic Surgery at U of Miami. Egad! Her act is "self-taught", we hear, as she does some warm-up stretches, and my SuckDar pings more insistently.

Jennifer gets a warm reception from the hometown crowd despite the fact that she's hauled the giant suitcase onstage with her (is she a prop comic? Is she going to jam herself into the case?), but as she starts dancing to "Circus" by Britney Spears, she has a technical difficulty removing one of her shoes, and the vicious crowd senses weakness and turns on her immediately. She quickly unzips the suitcase to salvage the act, and hey, there's another one of her in there: a girl who looks and is dressed the same, all pretzelled-up into the case.

The crowd remains unimpressed overall, continuing to boo as the girls dance in a mediocre way, causing Sharon and Hoff to buzz them. Piers waits for things to get better (Jennifer putting herself into the case in a cool way, for example), but they never do, so Jennifer and her completely unbilled partner (sister? friend?) get sent, yes, "packing".

Next up is Drew Thomas, who has a magic act with his wife that she is rejoining after having had their child. They seem pretty cool, so my hopes are high and my SuckDar has gone into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Drew's magic act is extremely professional and quite spectacular. He stands in front of a large, seemingly empty crate and makes mysterious, animal-looking figures appear under large, paint-splattered tarps. After producing two smaller ones and one larger, oddly-shaped one that dance to the accompanying music, he steps into the crate and pulls a flap down over the opening.

The crowd claps along with the music as the two smaller tarps are thrown aside to reveal two sexy gals who then tear the flap from the crate, revealing it to be empty once again. Drew had disappeared! Then the third, largest tarp, which has been dancing in front of the crate the whole time, is thrown aside to reveal Drew's wife-and DREW!!

Everyone is impressed. Drew gets a standing O from the judges and everyone else. The judges gush, Piers gives Drew "a serious chance of winning" the competition, and Drew and his lovely assistants are put unanimously through to Vegas.

Coming up: giant dancing sea creatures / aliens, a pink drag queen and her mannequin minions, and Hoff exhaustedly proclaiming Miami "a strange place." During the break, NBC's massive advertising blitz for The Philanthropist continues. If you missed the premiere of The Philanthropist, here is my six-word review: "Promising concept, sucky execution. Don't bother."

We return from the break to Miami in all its tropicalushness, and here come a set of white-bustier-and-tight-pants-wearing blondes. Pretty Polish triplets Alexandra, Monika and Isabella, stage-named Alizma, play violin, sing, and all talk at the same time while saying different things, which can progress from adorable to homicide-inducing in a remarkably short period of time.

The girls turn out to be good violinists but mediocre singers; they have also made the unfortunate choice of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" as their performance piece, a song execrably overplayed and sung at karaoke (oh, it's so fun to say "I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best that's ever been!" into a microphone, isn't it, boys?). A pox on you, Charlie Daniels!

Overall, the entertainment factor is high enough to put them through, but Piers and Sharon both reasonably advise the girls to ditch the singin' and stick to stringin'. They will probably ignore these wise words because Hoff, smitten stupid by the array of gorgeous Eastern Europeans, tells them to go ahead and do what ever they want as he hands out keys to his hotel room, his condo on the beach and his safe-deposit box. Sigh. Men. "We Are Family" jubilantly plays as the girls bounce in triumph, then they promptly start bickering again backstage (in unison, and possibly also in Polish-it's a mystery to me and Nick Cannon what they're saying).

Hey, Miami has an Elvis impersonator, who knew? Next up is soft-spoken, large-haired Jennifer James, who says of her act, "people tell [her] all the time that they've never seen anything like that before." Oh-ho! I think we have a boiling hot mess in the offing here. My SuckDar gulps down the last two bites of sandwich and stands at attention, pinging in earnest.

Jennifer, whom we had previously seen attired in a pink tracksuit, waltzes onstage in a bikini made of red silk roses and a giant peacock-feather headdress. Despite being a tad, um, "thick", she seems completely unembarrassed to be seen in public-let alone on television-in this getup, so more power to her. She announces herself as "Nubian Beauty" and cites her specialty as "African-Bohemian dance". Um, Nubie? Bohemia is in Eastern Europe. Have the twain ever met? Somehow, I think this cultural conglomeration is not a geographical one so much as a state of mind.

The woman Nick calls "Nubian Booty" (hee!) proceeds to get down on the floor and do a boob-twitching, rump-shaking, belly-rolling not-safe-for-family-viewing routine that gets a triple buzz and a triple No before Grandma can have a heart attack and Little Jimmy starts asking too many questions. Nick totally lies to Nubie's face about how awesome it was (way to keep the deNile flowing, there, Nick) while Hasselhoff puts his head under the judges' table to laugh or possibly puke. Bye, Nubie! Don't let the doorknob hit you in the roses on the way back to Bohemia!

Next, we have the inevitable Bizarro Montage, starting with the Veniamin Shows, a family dance troupe clad in the aforementioned exotic sea-life costumes. In the few seconds we are allowed to see, their act looks really cool and interesting, but the judges dismiss them with extreme prejudice (clearly Piers doesn't want any more ZOOperstars! moments)-sorry, Human Blowfish, we hardly knew ye! Then there's Tim Monteith, the afore-mentioned drag queen in a shiny pink dress and yellow plastic wig who dances tethered to two mannequins so s/he won't have to split the winnings (smart); a retarded clown act called DeanO and Friends; and Dan Diaz, who thinks that balancing Tupperware on your head could be a Vegas act. Come back to us when it's on fire, you bush-leaguer!

After the break, a little dancing boy, who will of course be awesome.

We're ready to end our day in Miami, but we must first meet Arcadian (!!) Broad, a smallish 13-year-old boy who has taken his share of merciless teasing (he reckons it's for being bad at sports, but once again: Arcadian) and has channeled it into his love of dance. Commendable! With happy memories of Flaming Baton Boy, who did this same thing productively (albeit with more assistance from props), I prepare for the awesomeness of Arcadian Broad, and I am not disappointed. This kid rocks the house, and unlike the adorable Erik and Rickie, his natural talent is readily apparent. He could benefit from better choreography, but his skills are impressive nonetheless. Amusingly, he ends up flopped on the floor at the end of Elton John's "I'm Still Standing", but that's probably pretty funny if you're 13.

Giant standing O for Arcadian, bless his heart, and the judges offer unanimous, unreserved Yeses. More Sir Elton plays as Arcadian shares his triumph backstage with his ultra-supportive mom and big sis. Joining Arcadian in Las Vegas will be giant yodeling dominatrix Manuela Horton, The Comic-Bots, magical ex-firefighter Tom Durnin, girl rockers G Force, dancers Erik and Rickie, illusionist Drew Thomas, and violinist triplets Alizma, who should just shut up and play but probably won't. See you next week!