By Graham Rae | September 5, 2005

Here in Chicago, it’s “American Idol” audition time, and various horribly screeching weasels are currently despoiling Foxs News’s early morning show in a desperate bid to get their fifteen seconds of fame. Could anything be more stupid than the no-talent freaks, kooks, loons, psychotics, druggies, drunkards and deviants who comprise the really-badly-wanna-but-never-gonnabe contestants of “Idol” I hear you ask? And of course the answer is a resounding F**K NO, but that doesn’t stop this goofy softcore satire from tearing whatever credibility-meat is left from the show’s practically-bare bones (after all, who could be crazier than William “SHE BANGS! SHE BANGS!” Hung? I rest my case) and doing a pretty damned good job of it at that.

So who are the contestants in this (per)version of the march of the deranged and deluded? You want to meet the feebles herein? Well, in random disorder-creating order they are:

Frank Gilmore & Kimbo – Frank, a check-shirt-wearing gaptooth inbredneck, forces his captive simian to perform hip-hop dance moves under the harsh lash of a whip. The PETA-troubling aspects of this are somewhat negated by the fact Kimbo is a guy in a shabby suit. But that still doesn’t negate his obvious talent. This “Hopping mad hip-hopping killer of a gorilla” (as one of the judges memorably describes his fleabitten a*s) can f*****g MOVE, man!

Alannah – a white trash knicker-dropper drink-and-drug-addicted 80s-leotard-wearing throwback who does a kind of “Footloose” (VERY loose – she can hardly stand, as she likes getting f****d up before going on stage) ‘dance’ to our horror and disapproval. Has an uncle who manufactures methamphetamine, though, so that counts in the voting stakes.

Mayor Phlemming – the uncivil civic leader of Northeast Westover, the backwoods chump-dump hosting this leg of the “American Idle” audition. Phlemming dresses like a mentally unbalanced ninja (black balaclava and wool gloves) and performs a weird ‘arty’ dance that has to be seen to be believed. And even then you won’t believe it. Fantasizes about himself as being various buxom women – and a swan. Make of that what you will.

Vanilla Killa – a slavering syllable-smashing shithead who commits rap crimes on prime time. A wigger extreme who is a feisty mix of Enimem, Vanilla Ice and a pile of dog dung. Sure TRL could find a spot for him somewhere – after all, he’s no worse than any of the vapid f**k-muppets they employ on their station.

Luke Spinelli – weird old toothless crooning crone who looks EXACTLY like a homeless alcoholic, John Bain, who unsteadily walks the streets of Falkirk, my old Scottish home town. Uncanny – and frightening – resemblance.

Annie Cockledue – a naked female dancer. ‘Nuff said.

So who would you vote for? I know who I would. And the end result just isn’t right. KIMBO, YOU WUZ ROBBED MY BLACK-HAIRY-ASSED PAL!

I have to admit, I really enjoyed this movie. Sure, it’s as empty and stupid as George Bush’s Cro-Magnon cranium, but it’s great fun nonetheless. I mean, what do you expect from a flickershow with the name “Sexy American Idle,” “Citizen Kane?” SAM features the usual unusual cynical Seduction Cinema malcontents: Misty ‘Flawed Young Goddess’ Mundae, John Fedele (on great form here as judge ‘Glitter Bolan’, an Ozzy parody character whose every line is a train wreck: “I thought she had some great f**k moves, but other than that I want to see more fanny!”), Anoushka, Julian Wells, etc. Wells is on top form here, and her comic performance as tipsy lippy dipso Alannah had me laughing out loud, as did a lot of the sheer surreal, who-gives-a-f**k-let’s-stick-it-in-anyway stupidity showcased during the rest of the film. With low budget shot-on-video flicks like this an endearing spirit of barely-controlled anarchy prevails (after all, it costs next to nothing to shoot, so being super-strict and serious with it is a waste of time, and they’ll only be shooting another one in a couple of days anyway) that gives them an unpredictable edge over saner tedious mainstream fare. At least to me, that is.

On the DVD there’s a doc on the making of the film and a load of deleted scenes, some of which are pretty funny too. You also get the soundtrack CD free, and can croon along to the horrific muzakal numbers the performers mutilate during the running time, as well as overlong dialog snippets – just what you need to complete your CD collection. Maybe you could even perform one of the ‘songs’ here for an audition for the real show and find yourself walking away with top prize. Anything’s possible. As “American Idiot,” sorry, “American IDOL” itself has proved on numerous occasions, much to the detriment of my hope in the future of the human race.

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