So You Think You Can Dance: Recap: 4:01, Hour One

In case anyone forgets how this works: during the audition portion, each dancer gets a minute to perform his or her own choreography. If the judges can’t reach a decision after seeing that one-minute performance, they ask the dancers to stick around until the end, when they’ll learn a choreographed group piece.

First up: Devin Oshiro. She’s facing the back of the stage, which she continues to do for an agonizing twenty seconds or so. Finally Nigel asks if the music is wrong. Yes, that’s the problem. Why in the world didn’t she turn around and explain that? I don’t love what she’s doing–it’s modern, and there’s lots of head-tossing. Nigel thinks she’s incredible. He says choreographers will go crazy for “the facility which you provide for them, which is your body.” Mia says Devin will be “stupid” if she stays on the show, meaning that she’ll become stupid good. “You’re stupid if you don’t take this [ticket to Vegas],” Nigel says. Crickets.

Jonathan Anzalone, triple-jointed, 21, is classic douchey Eurotrash, circa 2001. He admits he shaves his chest–which is hard to miss, because his shirt is unbuttoned to his ribs. His eyebrows are also waxed, FYI. He strips for the camera. Not metaphorically–he takes off every item of clothing he’s wearing. His routine consists of posing, abs tightened, and smirking every so often. He ends with chin in hand, a la The Thinker–if The Thinker were an Italian with a waxed chest, red pants, and bright white sneakers. Nigel asks Mia how successful Jonathan will be in America, and Mia says, “Not very sexful–successful.” Nigel explains that that’s what’s called a Freudian slip. By the by, why is Mia wearing tiny granny specs pushed up onto her knit cap? She compliments Jonathan’s floor work, or “the last couple tricks,” as Mary calls them. Mary says he’s good-looking, but no one would pick up the phone to vote for him. He’s trying to leave the stage before Nigel speaks. He’s smirking, which I understand–whenever I’m embarrassed, I pretend to be amused and unconcerned. Nigel says he doesn’t understand “this smugness.” Jonathan says there’s no point in staying when two judges hate him. Plot twist! Nigel wants him to stick around to do the choreography. Mary says she does too. Mia says, “You’d be impossible to create a piece on…you’re a nightmare.” But she says she’d like to see him come back for the choreography.

“Sex” is up next. He’s “twenty-one plus,” he’s wearing red shorts, a huge shiny white shirt, tortoiseshell glasses, and long hair. Flashback to his first three auditions for this show, after one of which Nigel said, “You will not be a dancer on this planet.” Cat asks why he’s back for more, and he looks like he’s fighting back tears. He dances to “Livin La Vida Loca.” God, this is depressing. Mia says there’s been no growth from last year to this, although she did see growth between the first and second seasons. Mary cackles like a witch at the notion that Sex has grown. He looks on, stone-faced. Mia says she remembers thinking, “He’s improving” as she watched on TV, and Mary laughs hysterically. She says, “This really is a joke. There is no dancing going on up there.” Sex says he has “many, many years of extensive training.” Mia asks who he’s training with, and he says he trains “with many master choreographers and teachers.” Nigel says, “You must just enjoy watching yourself look stupid on television.” Nigel, with a haircut like that, I don’t know if you’re one to talk. Nigel also says he refuses to call him Sex, because his name is David, and there’s “nothing sexy about him.” Sex sticks up for himself. Cat’s voiceover: “Meanwhile, dancers with real talent…”

Laura Garcia, a twenty-five-year old with a visual impairment, dances to a song that begins, “a little hazy, kind of hard to see the road.” Too obvious, maybe? She’s really not very good at all. Sorry. She seems like a sweetheart, but no. Nigel says it’s hard to critique her because she’s an inspiration to a lot of people. He says “the technique is not strong enough” for her to continue. He says he wants her to understand that her crappy technique, not her visual impairment, is to blame for her failure. Mia is sobbing, which gets Laura started crying. Mia says someone close to her who was a dancer lost her eyesight. She can hardly get the words out because she’s so upset, but those words turn out to be “your technique is a little lacking.” Nigel says, “To move you on in the competition would only be patronizing you.” Okay, Nigel, we get it.

Stephen Boss, aka Twitch, is back. He made it to Vegas last year, but Hawk got picked to advance over him. This year, Stephen is taking a different approach: less humor. Not emo, he says, but not as jokey. Nigel tells Twitch “I’m going to kick your ass” if he doesn’t make it through Vegas. Twitch is undoubtedly good, and very musical. Mary: “Twitch! You’re sick! You’re frozen! You’re STUPID!” She’s such a shrieker. Mia says Twitch gives her “stank face.” Nigel makes a big production out of reaching for the Vegas ticket in his front pocket.

Hamilton Moreno–why don’t we get to see this guy’s whole routine? He’s great! He’s fat, and he doesn’t want to lose weight because he worries weight loss will rob him of his individuality. Mia says, “That’s a terrible niche, because it’s an unhealthy niche. Right now you’re a character.” She wants him to go home and realize that he’s “perfect inside.” Mary agrees: “Please get yourself healthy.” He’s not a heroin addict! Nigel is giving us a lesson in biology, saying the slowness with which Hamilton’s heart rate is returning to normal is indicative of his ill health. Thank you, Dr. Seventies Hair.

Irena, an older Russian woman in a red satin dress, says she’s been dancing her whole life, but “it never was professional.” You’re kidding! She’s separated, she says. Nigel says if her husband sees this performance on TV, he’ll beg for her back. She says, “I don’t think so. I will never come back to that man. I left him half-million dollar home just to be free and looking for happiness.” You go, older Russian woman! She’s not going to Vegas, but she’s stolen my heart.

Phillip Chbeeb, who made it to Vegas last year, feels he’s improved a lot since last year. He says he’s diversified and started working on being a dancer, rather than just a trick artist. His routine starts with some cute flying stuff. Lots of ripples-through-my-body motions. Really, really, really, really impressive, and his music is well chosen. There’s a bobblehead moment the judges really dig. Nigel: “I find it absolutely incredible to watch…I don’t even know how you start choreographing something like that.” He asks what Phillip has done in the past year (since it’s obvious he’s improved so drastically). Phillip says he’s worked on foot movement and level changes, since last year the judges criticized the lack of movement in his legs. Mary says, “You’re extraordinary and memorable.” She says that of all the dancers, it’s him she remembers most from last season, and says everyone talks about the way his hands and arms move. Mia: “Like, brilliant, sir.” She says she prays he can do other styles and says if he can, “everyone should be really scared.” He’s going to do the choreography.

William B. Wingfield, twenty-one years old, is a professional dancer, and he comes off like a pro. He’s relaxed and confident. And cute, although he should lose the red mushroom cap. But he’s kicking it Wu Tang during his routine. I’m a sucker for that rolled up pant leg. He’s dancing to a spoken word recording, stuff like “Check your ingredients before you overdoes on the cool.” Yuck. And he’s not doing much actual dancing. Nigel says, “That was clever. It was cool. Was it a great audition for this program? Not sure it was.” Although Nigel thinks the audition was overly clever, he liked it. Mary wanted it to go on and on. Mia says she didn’t see the versatility, but she liked the politics. William is sticking around for the choreography.