Robsessed with 'So You Think You Can Dance'

In what will be a surprise to absolutely no one who has ever read Tube Ray Army in its history, last night I settled in for the glorious - if emotionally draining - experience that is the So You Think You Can Dance grand final.

Admittedly, this year I have weaved in and out of watching the show "live"; I had to work nights for the bulk of the money end of the show, and also sulked for a few weeks when Hot Gaz was voted out.

I mean, ARE YOU INSANE, AUSTRALIA? He even cried real tears when he was booted!


Adorbz. DON'T WORRY, GAZ, YOU CAN COME BREAKDANCE INTO MY HEART ANY DAY.

Anyway, I got back into the loop just in time for last night's finale and I am so glad I did.

Firstly because it was an excellent serving of Natalie Bassingthwaighte's utter inability to act like a real live human being.

She had plenty of opportunities to bellow "HOW GOOD WAS THAT" while showing no discernible emotion. Truly, the woman is a masterwork of cyborg technology.

However, it was the show itself that was wondrous, beginning with the opening sequence, which was - no jokes - one of the best things I've seen on Australian television.

Traditionally, "tribute" performances tend to end up dying in a disastrous frenzy of misguided high-concept ideas, but the SYTYCD Top 100 tribute to dance on the big screen was absolutely marvellous:


It was testament to what the show has gradually finessed over its three years, i.e. a respect of both dance and the viewers' intelligence. It would have been easy to stop at the obvious - Saturday Night Fever, Michael Jackson - but instead they threw in actual classics of dance, from West Side Story and Cabaret to Singin' In The Rain and The Red Shoes.

It left the US franchise for dead.

From there, a potted highlights of this season's best dance routines provided a slightly exhausting but never less than exhilarating ride.

More than anything, it's so wonderful - as someone who dances more like Elaine Benes than Ginger Rogers - to share in the sheer joy of dance by watching these bodies fly about the stage.

I mean, look at Robbie!


By the time the final two - Jessie and Robbie - had been announced, everyone on our couch was about ready to burst into tears, and their beautiful Debbie Ellis contemporary routine (to an admittedly daggy Sarah Brightman and Adrea Bocelli track) tipped us all over the edge:


But high production values and spectacular dancing are a given when it gets to the money end of a show like So You Think You Can Dance, and for me, the real highlight of last night's finale was that it presented four wonderful young people to the viewing public.

I'm sure I'm not the only person who tires of reading about how Gen Y is lazy, self-absorbed and unmotivated.

From the moment Ivy made possibly the most gracious exit speech in the history of reality television, I felt an immense pride in the youth of, if not the country, then at least the country's dance studios.

And then, once we got to the "end of the So You Think You Can Dance journey", we had two lovely young friends, both equally talented dancers, both equally ready to congratulate the other - and the winner was Robbie, it was perfect.

This pocket rocket, decried as "too short" and "too young", whose career trajectory reminded me of Fred Astaire ("Bald, can't sing, can't act, can dance a little"), looked like his heart was about to explode as he cried his little eyes out, and was finally swamped by his fellow contestants.

At that moment, as I finished off the Chocolate Royals and wiped away my own tears, I was overcome by the distinct sensation that the kids are all right.