America’s Got Talent Taping Or: Being Held Hostage At The Majestic

I know, I know. I asked for this. I don’t know what I was thinking it would be like. But in no way, shape, or form, did I realize just how painful three hours of an America’s Got Talent taping would truly be. (And, the only reason it was three hours because we snuck out halfway through.) The tapings, going on yesterday and today, were open to the public, and Laura and I decided it would be a good idea to check it out. We arrived at the Majestic Theatre at 10 this morning, soggy and frustrated, but excited and enthusiastic. We left at 1, hungry and frustrated, sad and embarrassed. For those who care (I repeat: for those who care), a not-so-”newsworthy” rundown of the experience after the jump.

We filed into the auditorium around 10:15 and were told where to sit by some young production assistant types. The lower level of seats was about two-thirds full. Around 10:40, a British emcee (didn’t catch his name) began addressing the crowd and killing time by telling jokes. Most of the jokes involved the difference between the English and Americans or pointing out which ladies in the audience he’d like to “shag.” We were instructed on what to do if we liked an act (cheer; chant “Vegas”; or get up and dance), and what to do if we didn’t (boo; make an X sign with our forearms; or point the talent off the stage). Then, we filmed audience reaction shots, which included both of the previous reactions, as well as “gobsmacked.” Emcee man told us that there were 33 cameras in the joint, so to do our best to not get caught picking our noses or adjusting our bra. Good advice.

Before long, it was time to bring out our host, Jerry Springer, and introduce the celebrity judges, Piers Morgan, Sharon Osbourne, and David Hasselhoff. Jerry was sweet and self-deprecating. Piers Morgan was dapper in a suit, not to mention the most rational when it came to the talent. Sharon Osbourne was adorable and charming. And David Hasselhoff was, well, exactly what you’d expect. Every time he moved, it seemed he was just transitioning from pose to pose. Hair and make-up people swarmed around him during every break, powdering his face and lint-brushing his already lint-brushed, chest-clinging shirt. Seemed Sharon got the least attention from the hair and make-up crew; the gentlemen were the divas of the bunch. By about 11:30—an hour and 15 minutes in—they were finally ready to roll.

When the “talent” started to trickle onstage, it only got worse. We were nervous: Surely people wouldn’t actually boo someone offstage, would they? Wrong. They did. With fervor. One 16-year-old girl was brought to tears when the audience reacted badly to her rendition of “Don’t Cry Out Loud.” A sweet Southern woman was also booed for her award-winning whistling act. And an obnoxious comedian who dressed like a stereotypical, pocket protector–wearing dork was barely able to utter a joke before he was booted backstage. And yet, the silver-trousered cowboy who played “Killing Me Softly” on a sitar became an audience favorite, even persuading rigid Piers to send him to Las Vegas for the second round. Huh?

The bad far outweighed the good. The only people sent through to the next round (out of a total of around 12 acts) were the sitar player, a spot-on Frank Sinatra impersonator who sang a version of “Fly Me to the Moon” that would have made Ol’ Blue Eyes proud, and the Dallas Desperados dance team. (Is that even fair??) A poor 9-year-old who admitted that his parents made him come on the show merely stood onstage and hula-hooped. No tricks, no music, no nothing. Just hula-hooped. When the judges asked him if he thought he was worth a million-dollar prize, he answered honestly: “No.” Sharon instructed him to not listen to his parents anymore.

Meanwhile, the audience was a lively bunch. Loud comments from the peanut gallery kept coming the whole time. One favorite was to yell, “You’re fired!” at Piers Morgan, who’s currently appearing on Celebrity Apprentice. Ah, that joke never got old. Then, when a rapper who busted rhymes in gibberish was told he wouldn’t be moving on to the next round, people in the crowd wondered aloud, “Did he think this was Gibbersh’s Got Talent?” “Did they think they’d sign him the million-dollar check in gibberish?” High-larious! When a break was called for the judges (but not the audience, we weren’t allowed to leave our seats), Mr. Emcee called for audience members to come onstage and participate in a mock exotic dance contest for the chance to win a t-shirt autographed by The Hoff. I’m not kidding, people couldn’t get themselves up there fast enough to bump, grind, and shake what their mamas gave them. That was about all we could take. Seacrest, out.

A second filming was going on at 5 PM. About half the audience indicated they would stay for the second taping. Bless them.