How are everyone's ears? Still ringing from the insane levels of enthusiasm churned up by 6000 Strictly fans stuffed into a arena? Mine too. As for my own Strictly enthusiasm, it's doing ok – it was only mildly tempered by the oversized dance floor, anonymous dancers (bah to unfamiliarity) and the fact they sneaked a theme in through the back door: 'Dance Through The Decades' – I started sceptical, but, although it was low on wig content, by the end I was graciously tolerant.
I was more than tolerant of the Eighties Monitors and dance-off losers, Erin and Richard, who sadly had to sail their dance lilo into the sunset, bound directly for Erin’s Gin Palace. Soapy Dick’s high-waisted white trousers and Andrew Ridgeley impression weren’t enough to save him this time – which is a mighty shame, as I have found his routines and schtick far more entertaining than say, oooh, PENDLES (more on that story later, viewers) and I’d quite have quite happily seen what conceptual comedy gem Erin was going to concoct next week, after the Gin Palace Foxtrot and Desert Island Discs Salsa (luxury item: beefcakes in budgie smugglers). But no, we must say goodbye to all that camp potential - no chance of ‘Rumba At Erin’s Roller Disco’, 'Hello Sailor Let's Argentine Tango' or 'The Hampstead Health Showdance'. *sigh*
Having said that, Erin does deserve a break – there’s only so much hairspray a ballroom barnet can handle.
Dance-wise, it seemed fair that Nicky should stay over Richard, especially as his fifties jive was one of his better Strictly attempts - and it was actually a good thing that they had all that floorspace, as I'm fairly sure Nicky's flailing arms and legs would have taken out a front row biddy or three in the usual studio. But overall Nicky’s still not quite doing it for me, so it’s with some relief that I note The Voting Power Of Westlife Fans appears to have its limits - he deserves to outlast Pendles, but after that, it's time to get back to the grey suits and stool work.
It wasn't all shoddy though, far from it! For example, I very much enjoyed Nicky’s Jedward quiff and the bit where he nearly ripped through his cardboard prison bars (clearly all the prop budget went on Erin's ocean camouflage crash mat). And then, of course, there was the “Criminal Record” sign. (I don’t need to make the obvious Flying Without Wings gag here, right?) In fact the main problem I had with their jive wasn't Nicky - it was Karen’s scoop cut and flappy tie neckline, which I found – no exaggeration – utterly repulsive. No really – there is no place for a tie on a dress and it made me feel queasy. (OTT? Moi?)
And NOT ONLY was it a massively ugly look, it was also very disappointing - I mean, was that really the best Sexy Cop jive dress Wardrobe could do? No, it was not – at the very least we should have had Village People meets Happy Days meets Ann Summers meets A Thousand Sequins. Is that too much to ask?
At least Robin's costume didn’t disappoint – nipple ahoy! There it was, flirtatiously peeking out of a casually unbuttoned dungaree strap – like a pectoral wink. And if that weren’t enough, (someone’s making up for lost time) we also got a bright pink pant flash – sneaking up out of the low slung dungaree denim on the Windsor hips. Hurrah! Mind you, the chest reappearance momentarily confused me, as, for most of the samba, I thought Robin was dressed as a farmhand who'd rolled in the cowpats - before realising that (durrr) he was the Car Wash Mechanic to Lisa's Car Wash – this is not a criticism, as I totally covet those streamer flapper dresses. I found the dance itself a bit patchy, with a fair few mistakes littered throughout, but I’m still gunning for la Riley – when it goes right, she’s fab, and she has such likeability. And excellently giant seventies hair.
It was Kimba who took on the other samba, which began with a parachute-sized train to rival Lady Di’s wedding dress, on to which huge flames were projected (shame Middleton didn't opt for that look when she got hitched - maybe that way it wouldn't have all been about Pippa's arse). On one hand, Kimble's train looked super cool, but, on the other, it also looked like a massive fire fart across all of Wembley.
I'm guessing their Ricky Martin tribute was supposed to be the nineties representative, which means we'll have to wait at least another year before we get a Britpop Samba – preferably channelling Bez and his maracas or some pointy Jarvis. Not that I'm complaining about Vida Loca action - the content was mucho shimmy and then Pasha had his disco bowling shirt ripped open, so what’s not to like? Well, the terrifying screech of Dave Arch’s singers covering the “la la la la la vida loca” bit at the end of the song was somewhat less successful.
Nice, eh? Whilst we're all appeased, maybe now's not a good time to mention how Darcey said it was good and stuff, but then added that Kimba's core was WEAK and she should totally do some sit-ups, which was all a teeny bit WHAT THE ACTUAL FFFFFFFFFFFFFF? I’ve actually come round to the Bussell as a judge, but COME ON - if Kimberley Walsh has to do more sit-ups, we are all officially doomed.
Well, except Pendles – she’s probably done enough sit-ups to suit Darcey’s needs. It's just a shame about the dancing, which remains, well, unconvincing. It’s not that I actively dislike Vic (yet), but I am starting to find her a bit on the sullen side, and - technical term alert - lacking in oomph. I actually thought her paso wasn’t half bad (by her standards) and I quite enjoyed it (though my pro-paso feelings are well documented), but it’s just not good that the best bit of the dance was far and away the few seconds where she was off-camera, getting unharnessed from her entirely unnecessary ET bike moment, and we all watched Brendan, centre stage, doing the hula with his paso cape.
By the way, what decade was this? Was it the 'tenties' (i.e. London 2012 and the Team GB leggings of vile?) in spite of the seventies Queen bike choon? Whichever - I doubt it was the lack of coherent decade action that left Victoria down the bottom of the leader board. It was strange, however, to see fellow Olympian Louis also lingering low too (level pegging with Nicky, third from bottom).
Truth is, I found Louis and Flavia's American Smooth a bit odd choreographically – the lifts were incredibly cool, but the quickstepping felt a bit nondescript, the Kanye West breakdown felt out of place and the end pose (push, glide and have a lie down) was just plain weird. I’m wondering if the trouble with Louis isn’t his danceability, but the slightly brattish behaviour we seem to see in the training room? After the patience of several million saints to get him to practice the first bit, perhaps Flavia just went “enough, fine, whatevs, let’s leave it there – when we get to the end, you can just pommel a bit and then we’ll have a nice sleep on the dancefloor. Now, please excuse me Louis, as I’m off to Wardrobe to get my thirties-inspired dress, which they assure me was the era were women liked to wear white satin Star Trek tunics, adorned with rosettes and table placements.”
At least I think they had the thirties, as Louis seemed to be dressed as one of the Lunch Atop A Skyscraper dudes – even if the aerial budget sadly didn't stretch to two Olympians in the air, which is a shame, as Louis could have got up in the rafters and chomped down some baked beans on toast from his mum, which I'm sure would have been most authentic.
Meanwhile Van Jam went twenties (charleston) via eighties (Walk Like An Egyptian) via naughties (Puppini Sisters cover) and the judges went mental for it – THREE TENS. Sure, it was highly competent, but (sorreeeeee) I was left a little underwhelmed. I think the music wasn’t working for me – for starters, I’m fairly sure the sound was too quiet and echo-y for the TV viewers and secondly, as much as I enjoy a Puppini cover, that Bangles original is one of my all time faves, and I’m sure it could have handled a charleston. I was also saddened not to see Denise in full Cleopatra, complete with triangular black hair and asp on bosom. Another missed wig-portunity.
Vinthent was also wig-less, but then again he had donned a hot pink velour waistcoat and matching shell suit bottoms, so that was a joy – I mean, who wouldn’t want to quickstep dressed as a fluorescent pink mini-highlighter? The dance was great too – turns out their little Shetland legs can motor rather nicely across a stadium. I even thought Dani, with her cutesome sixties girl group vibe, might get a ten or two of her own, but no, she was denied. Maybe the judges were put off by the notion that Dave Arch and co were covering the Phil Collins version of You Can’t Hurry love.
And then, last but totes not least, Natalie and Michael’s American Smooth – Natbot's first Wembley, and BOY WAS SHE GOING TO GO FOR IT. All Out Hollywood Golden Era Glam: gold, spangles, feathers, tails, Sinatra, lifts, high kicks, jazz hands – and it was bloody brilliant. How she managed to get jiving Michael to do that – well, someone’s programmed her fembot drive with seven years of Hogwarts spells, as there’s no way that happened without some serious black magic. I absolutely loved it - I’ve been completely won over by our Nats, it seems - so that’s only Aliona on the StrictlyCad Bah List these days. (On the subject of Aliona, I'm obviously glad her ankle is finally better and that she's able to get back on the dancefloor, but I can't help but smirk that she still hasn't reappeared in the SCD credits - I’m imagining a high to enormous level of fury, mainly directed at poor Iveta. I wonder what are they going to do for the finale - a Johnny Ball three-way? Dear me. Let's hope not.)
For the record, Bruce is on a special bitch list of his own, entitled “People who should be nowhere near Strictly and should go hang out on the golf course all Saturday”.
Tess has more or less won me over too, especially as she was back in some semi-frock horrors this week, even if it was on the muted end of the TessDressMess scale. Saturday was Disney Evil Queen vamp with extra shoulder pad, which I’d probably have loathed on anyone else, but you know, CONTEXT, and Sunday was a mini dress made of shiny corduroy, which (shhhh) I actually quite liked – but again, it’s all relative, eh? I mean, it was pretty vile, really. And essentially made of sofa.
But probably the best costume ludicrousness of the night was Kylie’s beefy backing dancers: shirt, tie, basque, booty shorts. Standard Kylie man dancer fare, right? But it is a whole new take on Casual Friday.
And so that was Wembley – I didn’t hate it, but my socks remained mainly unknocked – the sound was odd, the group dances were a bit erratic and full of randoms (disapprove), and that dancefloor swallows things up too much. But, the dancing was pretty good, in spite of all that, and I’m sure the audience had a bloody brilliant time. Obviously I’m not jealous that I totally failed to get a ticket, OH NO.
I also really enjoyed some of the other filler bits: the Sunday bumper car entrance was most chucklesome: powered by Anton and Artem, chauffered by deadly competitive Bruno and Tess, with Claudia hanging out the passenger seat still tipsy from David Mitchell and Victoria Coren’s wedding (WHAT A DRESS CLAUDE – WANT WANT WANT). I also adored the bit in Len’s Lens when Bruno had a full on hissy fit about not being a fatty: “I AM THEEEEN, I AM THEEEEEEN, I AM THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN, I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THAT!” (Someone will definitely have been fired - sadly not Bruce.)
And then, of course, there was Girls Aloud and all their ‘go girls g-g-go go go’-ing, which was totally doing it for me, especially the mirror dresses, the complex dance routine comprised entirely of walking, and the ongoing Nadine-Cheryl pretending not to hate or outdo each other vibe. I appreciate others may have alternative views.
Next week, normal studio service resumes, and things get properly competitive – Pendles, and maybe Nicky, aside, we're left with some seriously competent couples, even if they aren’t always consistent – will Victoria knock out a Big Gun? She certainly could do... We shall have to wait until Sunday to find out – well, for those with willpower. I’d imagine the rest of us will grab the Digital Spy spoiler on Sunday, innit. Until then, keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep cheating!
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