Donna Kauffman recaps season 11 'So You Think You Can Dance' kickoff

How much did we love this season of Dancing With the Stars? Well, if my mail was any indication, a whole boatload of love. A virtual ballroom of skimpily clothed, sequinny goodness filled with love love. And then … it was over. Just a pile of glitter and a few discarded feathers on the corner of the dance floor.

But then, there came a light! And another dance show premiere was announced.

Oh, season 11 of So You Think You Can Dance … thank you! You've saved us from a long, hot summer of dance deprivation, of being cast aside to live in a world devoid of tasty tangos, sinful salsas, and wondrous, occasionally wicked waltzes.

So, yes, dance fans. We're BACK and we're ready to rumba!!

All right, all right, I promise. No more alliteration. (I could have said awesome alliteration, but I keep my word. You can trust me. No. Really. Stop looking at me like that.) We launch this season as in the past with the always enjoyable audition rounds. OK, so maybe always is a bit of a stretch. But at least Uncle Nigel seemed to figure out a few seasons back that what we want is more dancing. More good dancing. They've cut down on the sobbing backstory filler (OK, OK, so not alllll of the soggy filler, but it's not as bad as it was) and we get a lot more dancing goodness with only the occasional, poor misguided soul tossed in, just to keep it real for us folks at home on the couch, who couldn't look half as good in barely there clothing even if we trained every single day for the rest of our natural lives. Much less dance like that. Only we have the good sense to stay at home. Clothed. Snacking on chips and watching other kids dance and break a sweat. We're geniuses like that. Humble, but geniuses all the same.

We learn, over a montage of the freaks, the geeks, and mighty fine obliques, that there will be only one champion this season. (We've had both Favorite Guy and Favorite Girl the past few seasons.) But! While we're losing one co-champion, we're gaining a whole new dance division. For all of you who are still sad over the demise of America's Best Dance Crew (me!), this season we get? A fierce new dance crew competition! I'm not so sure they did themselves any favors by having the Biebster making the big announcement of that new bit of news. I think Justin could take a wee break from our television screen, our Facebook pages, our Twitter, Instagram, Vimeo, well … if there's a feed out there? He could take a break from it. And we'd all take a nice little breather with him. But, as we've learned from this show, you have to take the good with the very questionable. I'll leave it to you to file his bit in your appropriately named category.

We kick off the audition tour in a town that is very near and dear to my heart. We're in New Orleans, baby! Birthplace of jazz, and my grandmother. Who, if she were still alive, would have loved this show and given it some sugar, baby. Of course, having spent a fair amount of time in this city, I've seen a slice of life there that is, well … let's just say unlike anything you'd see in any other city. Anywhere. Perhaps even in any other galaxy. So, what is about to be unleashed upon us? Well, my fellow boogaloos … strap yourself in, get your Mardi Gras masks on and a fruity umbrella drink in a nice big Go Cup … and let's go find out!

Our guest judge this evening? The always handsome and ever amusing Wayne Brady. Joining him is our always overly verbose and occasionally insightful Uncle Nigel Lythgoe, along with the suddenly severely blond Mary Murphy (if we could have only bleached two or three shades from her vocal cords instead). Then, proving that dance shows have the very bestest hosts evah (hello, Host Tom! We miss you already!) our summer hostess with the mostess, Cat Deeley, explains how things will be rolling this season. For you who are new to the SYTYCD system (welcome!!!) here's the deal: Kids come. Kids dance. If they're truly awesome and snag a majority of the judges' yes votes, which tonight would be at least two out of three (hey, it's late, and not everyone wants to do math), they snag a ticket straight to the next round in L.A.

For those dancers in whom the judges see promise, but they're not exactly sure … with that same majority vote, they get a pass onward to the choreography round, where they'll learn a routine of some nature from one of the season's previous pros, oftentimes not even in the realm of the kind of dance they're trained in, which … the point of this show is that. Then they come back, show the judges what they've learned. Some go to the next round, others, well, thanks for playing, here's your lovely parting gift. Get out. And the rest? The poor, the undertrained, the severely deluded? Yeah, they just get sent packing straight off. And we hope we don't have to see too many of those. But, as always, it all depends on how much the editors have been drinking. And, given they have to watch every single performance regardless, well, they can almost be forgiven. For the drinking and the questionable editing choices. Almost. Sort of. Just as we, who don't care and simply expect them to do their jobs, will kvetch and complain anyway. Because … that's the solemn pact we make as their viewers. Make us happy, editor monkeys! Give us good dance! Or you'll hear from us.

So why, you may ask, do we care about watching a show filled with exceedingly talented young people who can already dance? I mean, we get watching hapless, C-list celebrities trying to learn to dance with the occasional ringer thrown in for fun, but this? What's to love? What's to embrace? Who do we root for when they're all already freaking amazing?

Well, see, it's like this. These kids may know how to street dance, or perform a stunning Swan Lake, or a Broadway-worthy tap dance, or an internationally awarded paso doble. But can the guy doing that amazing Argentine tango learn how to krump? Can that street dancer with animator moves that aren't even human learn how to perform a devilishly tricky quickstep? Ah! Therein lies the drama. And? To make it even more challenging, let's pair that animator guy with that ballerina girl and make them dance something foreign to both of them … together. What is that you say? That street dancer doesn't know the first thing about dancing with a partner? Riiiiight.

But then they do learn how, or they don't … and we see chemistry blossom with some, and not so much with others. We find ourselves rooting and hoping and holding our breath, praying he just. Doesn't. Drop. Her. This time. And just when we think they're getting it, by jove they're really getting it … we've sent half of them home already. And now we're going to pair them each up with pros instead, and push them even further, harder, above and beyond.

So, yeah, it's all rather breathless and amazing and will make you feel like the incredible slacker you are, or, at least I am, but we won't care because they will motivate us and make us care anyway. I don't know about you. But I'm ready to fall in love all over again. So come on, Show … wow me. Make me care, make me laugh, make me cry. I know you can do it. You do it every season. Oh, and did I mention the routines these kids will be dancing to once the competition begins are choreographed by some of the best dancers in the business?

Yes. It's that good.

And? Here we go …

We begin with a contemporary dancer. And, for all of you who watch dance shows regularly … aren't we a bunch of dancing armchair quarterbacks? I mean, I was trained to dance as a kid, mostly jazz and ballroom, so I know a little sumthin-sumthin, but the range here is broad, and mine? Oh so very narrow. And yet, it's like week two of the Winter Olympics when we're all suddenly professional lugers, screaming at the screen, "Tuck, tuck!!" So, yeah, watching this young lady is like that. We don't really know how great she is … or not. I mean, the judges' faces give us a clue, but do we care? We do not. We're all, "Her extensions are a little sluggish, you know, and I'm not feeling it in her facial expressions, she's not connecting with me." (We're such judge parrots.) But two seconds later we're all, "Oh my God, way to put your foot straight up over your head like that, and dang, that flippy-leapy thing? Freaking amazing!"

So, it's kind of like that. I give her an 8. The judges give her a solid 10. We need paddles, don't you think? I should go make us some. Hand me those markers, won't you? Maybe some cute stickers. And glitter. Because, I miss it. Not many sequins during the audition rounds.

Next we get the "Drag Dad Up on Stage to Dance" bit, but he's kind of cute, like Robert Redford's much younger, more baby-faced, well, what, I guess grandson probably by now, but you know what I mean. And it's only marginally cringe-worthy and mortifying — OK, who am I kidding? It's horrifyingly embarrassing, and if that were my dad? Oh dear Lord. Thankfully for me, and oh so very mercifully for you, it's not my dad. Also? That's why they make fast-forward buttons. Use yours freely and may the fast-forwarding force be with you this evening.

Next, we get a ballroom-trained dancer from a family of 12. She worked her way into dance lessons, probably as much to learn how to dance as to have five minutes alone in the dance studio bathroom, but we all have our secret motivations. She's a delightful young lady to whom Uncle Nigel makes exceedingly inappropriate comments, so … new season, same Nigel … and then, we dance! She makes the questionable decision to dance ballroom solo, which, if you've seen the ballroom dancers on this show struggle when forced to show their style solo, I'm not sure that did her any favors. But she's all lithe and sex-kitteny, so of course Nigel is waving a ticket already, but Mary agrees, as does Wayne, So two up, two on the plane!

Next we get two brothers, one of whom auditioned before, with their own patented crazy leg dance … thing. It's interesting but ultimately not varied enough to really capture my attention. Mama in the audience would disagree. The judges are kind … but no one is waving tickets. So … choreography? Older brother yes, younger bro, not this time, thanks.

Now we get our first Grab the Kleenex Story. She's a lovely young girl from a very rough childhood who ended up on her own at a tender age, passed around from family to friend. She's very soft-spoken and surprisingly delicate, all things considered. She has Hostess Cat all wanting to hug and nurture, and seriously, who doesn't? She's a high school graduate, a college scholarship kid, has a job, earns her way, appreciates all she has and is exceedingly polite. We should all be so lucky to have this child. I really hope she can dance. She's a contemporary dancer, and to my untrained eye, she's not the most polished dancer, but has raw talent and a dazzling charm that can't be denied. The judges think she has it all over the place, and that makes me happy. And? Number 3, board that plane!

We come back from commercial to more Dad's Dancing, and then there's a Dad Dance-Off, and, well … it's a long show, and there's a lot of dishing left to do. So I … use the force. Your mileage may vary.

End of Day 1 in this kickoff city, we're down to our last guy. And … a little arrogant, a little too "others may try, but I do," and, you know, OK, I'm willing to hold judgment, right up until he says, "I'm going to get buck with it, you see what I'm sayin'?" And this from an exceedingly pale kid named Trevor? Yeah, so Trev? There's not a mean street in your internal map, OK? So dial it back a few notches to likable cute kid, so we can all love you, then put down the hair gel, and just show us that you can dance. And? Wow. It's like SYTYCD beloved pro tWitch had a love child with Jim Carrey. And worked it. Trevor's arrogance serves him well because he's got confidence in spades and he can back it up. Goofy, wacky, playful, but all grounded in some solid dance talent, ranging from contemporary to, yes, street. The kid has moves. Likable? My jury is still out on that one, but I like watching him dance, and end of the day on this show? That's why we're here. Judges are all gushy gushy lovefest of dance goodness, we'll fly you to L.A. in our personal jet, that's how good you are. And, oh, for heaven's sake. Like he needs the ego pump. But still? Earned.

So, New Orleans Day 1 is done. We have 18 dancers in choreography (and, boy, don't we wish we'd seen more of them instead of Dance Dads?). Former show contestants now All-Stars Marko and Katherine put them through their paces (Hi, Marko! Miss you!) and then it's back to the judges. And … um, a lot of them got tickets. How many? All of them? Some of them? I can't tell, but good start, Show. Good start.

Next! Hello, Day 2 in the French Quarter!

But first, I had to take a detour to iTunes to download that tune from the Red Bull commercial. (Come Get It Bae by Pharrell. Natch.) My playlists grow during every season of SYTYCD. Because they use the actual music/songs/artists. I like being exposed to so much new-to-me music from across so many genres. But I'll take the occasional commercial download, too.

Now? We dance! Some more.

And we start … with A Character. You know who I'm talking about. Miss Thang? Only this time, MT is a guy named Courtney, who has cheekbones to die for and an eyebrow arch that would make St. Louis weep with envy. Also? He's funny more than he's cliché, so the fast-forward button remains untouched. For now. So if the last guy was tWitch Carrey, this guy is RuPaul with a side of Grace Jones. And? He's … flexible. Really … flexible. Rhythmic. He has the head flip down to an art form. But … not a lot going on other than that. Personality in spades, though. Give the guy a talk show. Judges: Wayne's all, "You got presence!" and Mary offers, "Divalicious," while Nigel is more, "You've got … stuff … all right. Who, uh, are your inspirations?" Oh, Courtney's on the mic now. "I could give you a list of inspirations all day, but sir?" Attitude, blinding smile. "I know you don't have time to give like that." And you had to be there, but watching Wayne Brady lose it was really the best part of the thing. Oh, MT, work it. For once I agree with Nigel's ultimate no, but Mary and Wayne send him to choreography, and we know … right? Still, giving chances is what this is all about.

We get The Crier next, overcome by his chance to compete once again, and Nigel straightens him out, dries him up, then we watch him dance to a song that's pretty much just him crying some more. But he does it really beautifully. Sad dancer, but a good one. A very good one. At the end, he approaches the mic, tears are only a blink away again as he stares at the judges' silent faces. Then they all leap up, waving tickets, and there is joy in the Quarter tonight! Now, get yourself a box of Kleenex and man up, big guy. It only gets harder from here.

We get the "You're awesome/talented/filled with crazy dance goodness" montage and a lot of tickets are thrown at a lot of dancers.

And then, the Real Kleenex Story happens. (No, grab your hankies, m'kay? Trust.) So, adorable bow-tie dancer from last year? Who also had a Dads Who Dance Moment, only this one was pretty adorable, because he's all cute, exceedingly pale bow-tie kid, and Dad is, like, tattooed biker-looking dude, and they rocked it on stage together and had a Father-Son Moment for the ages. Well, so … OK. You know where this is going, right? Cute Pale Bow-Tie Kid is back to audition again this year. Only Dad won't be joining him on stage. This year dad is dancing with the angels and not watching his son audition from the 10th row, but from on high. It's awful, because the pain is very honest and real, but of course, the show goes the extra mile into Please Just Make It Stop territory, then around the block a few more times, just to make sure we Got The Message. Bow-Tie Kid's got charm and talent, his routine is a bit manic, but understandable, all things concerned. Mary is tearing up, and everyone is rooting for him. So, does he get his ticket this time? No, he's not ready. But they do put him through to choreography, for the added experience if nothing else. A bit anti-climactic, but whaddya gonna do? It was the right decision.

Back from commercial break we get the Big Guys Can Dance, Too segment. And can he zumba? Oh yeah. Can he do a jump split? Scarily? Oh yeah. Can he compete at the level of this show? Erm, not so much. But he's charming and it was fun watching him put Wayne through his zumba moves.

Next!

We're down to the last pair on Day 2, last pair for New Orleans. We get a ballroom couple and learn the guy, Marcouet, partnered with Witney in season 9 but, at 16 then, was too young to compete himself. And now? Well, "You are a grown a** man," says a stunned Wayne Brady. And … why yes. Yes, he most certainly is that, Wayne. And you may remember Witney. She went on to be in the dance troupe on Dancing With the Stars last season, and became a pro partner herself this most recent season. So let's get on with it, shall we? So … more energy than finesse to my eyes, fun to watch, chemistry individually, but together, notsomuch, and definitely needed to have spent more time together as actual partners. But Nigel don't care. Nigel is all, "Wow, she's …" Wipe drool from sagging chin. Yes, Nigel. We get what she is. He loves the honey badgers, doesn't he? Judges thought they were awesome. Really? M'kay. Tickets all around.

Now it's the Choreography Round. Twenty dancers this time, including MT Courtney and Cute Bow-Tie Boy. Let's just say … they tried really hard, but I felt a little sorry for their partners, who had to rely on them for their own chance. And? Exit stage left, the lot of you. We go around the block one last time with Cute Bow-Tie Boy, then hopefully pack up the Kleenex for the night.

We don't know how many dancers made it through from New Orleans, but that matters not at all as it's time for our wee Bieblet to introduce us to our first two dance crews. So here's how this is going to work. They perform, and we the viewers vote on Twitter. Oookay. I'm sure they're so glad to have us as their judges, given we know pretty much absolutely nothing about what it takes to do what they do. We only know what we like. But, hey, that's who we are. Judges Without Merit. So, go on. Bring it. I dare ya. I double dawg hashtag dare ya. (Cough. I need to go do a quick rinse and spit. Just … give me a sec. I mean, I just channeled Randy Jackson. I plead too many seasons of America's Best Dance Crew. Wow.)

Now, no one bothers to tell us how these crews were chosen, and we'll just have to get over that, won't we? Apparently the crews who get the most Twitter votes will come and compete on the SYTYCD stage at … yeah, they don't tell us that either.

I forgive all of this slapdashery when Biebsly announces the first crew … and it's Poreotics. All you ABDC aficionados know this crew, and we know we're in for a treat. No random street crew these guys. Seasoned pros now, all of them. They combine popping and robotics, and then after a short intro with them, we're suddenly watching a very slickly produced top-of-the-city-building stage performance, with crazy zooming camera angles that make sure we see … absolutely nothing about their routine as a whole. And it's so … removed from a stage/audience show that it's really hard to connect to it, other than in a distant, well, don't they all move so in sync together but I can't seem to care kind of way. And then, whoops, we're back to an edited interview piece again, so maybe that wasn't the performance, but nope, back to the rooftop! So … now are we? No, no, we're not, not completely, more interview stuff, then more rooftop stuff and then suddenly there's Biebs and some dude I still don't know who he is, asking us to vote for them. Really? Based on … what?

Wow. That's … not even remotely well thought-out.

But, we're on to the next crew about whom we will learn some things but then see from them not very much at all. It's the Syncopated Ladies, a tap-dancing street crew about whom I know nothing before tonight, which puts them at an even more severe disadvantage against the first team, given the method in which they'll be showcased. We do get some time watching them do their thing, and they're good, no doubt. The camera even stays in one place on them for more than one hundredth of one second, so … that was nice. Anyone feel like they have a touch of whiplash after this segment? Because, Show … if you want us to vote on these teams with any actual content with which to judge them by, then at least POINT the camera at the crew, then LEAVE IT THERE. And let them dance.

So, that's a disappointment. Hopefully good teams will get through and we'll get some actual content thrown down later in the season.

Now, we go from the hot South … to the cold, cold North in the city Hostess Cat nicknames Chi-beria, given the Windy City is running about, oh, 7 degrees above zero at the time of the taping. This time around, we get actress and former trained ballerina Jenna Elfman as our guest judge.

We kick off with two, shall we say, socially challenged but ever so earnest young men, who are nonetheless very charming in their cluelessness. What they do have, is mad dance skills. In spades. And the lady-killer stuff? Oh, boys, behave! They compete separately, to our relief, and we start with Nick, dancing ballroom. Alone. Oh, Nick. To his credit, his sister was going to perform with him, but had surgery. And we guess it would just be too weird if his buddy stepped in? OK, yeah, moving on then. And? He's good, and surprisingly more manly than you might have assumed. For a solo ballroom, that's about as good as you could do. Nigel has only, "Yep, you're good" to say (well, he's not in a skirt with mile-long legs, so what did you expect?), but Mary gives us the full-throttle Tamale Train, and, oh silly, you didn't think we'd escape two whole hours without the screech, did you? One ticket down. Now, time for Rudy who is … maybe a little less polished or sophisticated than his buddy? Yeah, turns out Rudy, a contemporary dancer, is all about his abdominal scar and making that the focal part of his manly man warrior dance. Oh boy. Time for a fruity umbrella drink refill, don't you think? Yee. And? So, hunh! The guy has some pretty madd skillz himself. Who knew? Scar and all. It's a little overemotive, but he can most definitely dance. Judges are gushy gushy and the Team Little Buddy is two for two.

We come back from commercial to the montage-of-Chicago-dance-goodness and are left to wonder why we don't get to see more of these guys. Lots of tickets being thrown about.

And then? Oh … Bow-Tie Boy. Yeah. He's back. Sorry to say the tragic story that the show beat into the cold hard ground? Well, now we know why. Because so will Bow-Tie Boy. The no he received in New Orleans? Apparently wasn't crushing enough. So he's come to Chicago to try out. Again. Because I'm sure he's learned everything he needed to know about partner dancing in, what, the two weeks in between audition cities? If that much? I hate it when the show exploits hard-luck stories, but it's harder to watch the hard-luck stories exploit themselves. Not that he's out for the attention, I don't think, but it's just … why didn't someone stop him? I mean, sure, never give up, keep on keepin' on. But how you do that in this case is by going back home and studying what they told you to study, long and hard, then, when you have it, you come back and wow them. Not … this. This time instead of being all lighthearted and let's remember the best parts of life, he's all, "It's okay to grieve," and so we go to Bow-Tie Kid's dark side this time, apparently. And, he's a good dancer. We already knew that. He just needs more polish to be at the level this show has risen to over the seasons. And off he goes to choreography. Again. Because he earned that much. Again.

Then we get the montage of crazy, and Chicago? You compete there, don't let anyone tell you different! The Detroit male strippers are back and all four apparently go through to choreography this time around. And then the show detours right back to Sleazytown and Mary throws Jenna under the Make This Show Stop It bus and has to sit on stage and endure the bump and grind from some, frankly, muscular but fairly skinny stripper dudes. Naturally, Mary joins her. They make the most of it, vamping it up, but ai-yi-yi. Sorry, y'all. Let the forward force be with you. Next!

Then we're already at Day 1 choreo round, and Detroit does not represent, but bows out before they get tossed out. So we're left with just one dancer we know in the group, yes … hello, Bow-Tie Boy. Again. This time? Ah, the sweet smell of victory and a plane ticket to L.A.! I'm happy for the kid, for the Redemption Tour victory, but I still think he needed more seasoning. I don't see him in the Top 20. Still, he'll get a lot of learnin' in L.A., and that's good stuff all around.

Overall, end of the night, yeah, I'm feeling a bit … underwhelmed by this Chicago segment, but then I hear only 12 dancers went through to L.A., so yeah … the judges were underwhelmed, too.

And then, oh look, Biebs is back to tell us how things are going on the fiercely contested Twitter war tonight. And? Surprisingly, Syncopated Ladies are in the lead. By a 3-to-1 margin, even. (I know, I know, more math.) I'm guessing that means … we can still vote? For how long, they don't say. But again, let's not sweat the details.

Our opening night has come to a close. We return next week to Day 2 in Chicago, which won't have to work very hard to beat Day 1, but perhaps, from an editing standpoint, they may have wanted to end the first night on something stronger than … Bow-Tie Boy Gets His Golden Ticket. Just sayin'.

Still, I have hope. We'll get 20 dancers who've earned their way in. I have faith! No, I really do!

So, keep the faith with me, won't you? And come back for Round 2. Yes, even if they do show Mary outside, wrapped in not much more than a towel in the promos. As if that is some kind of enticement. Oh come on, at least we'll have something to collectively eye-roll about, and group activities are fun!

Know what else is fun? Winning stuff! OK, so it's not like winning a ticket to the L.A. callbacks, but then you'd have to go rehearse a routine, and try not to embarrass yourself on national television and … this is SO much easier and more rewarding than that. Here, you can just stay home in your comfy clothes, sipping … whatever it is you're sipping, given you're reading this in the morning hours, not at midnight like me, and so … I don't judge. But sip and send me an e-mail to donna@donnakauffman.com with "I know I can't dance. But I can read a free book!" in the subject line. That's it. No, really. Then next week, right in this very spot, I'll announce the winner's name. I know! It's all very exciting, almost like having your name announced as a winner on TV only in USA TODAY instead, which is close to the same thing only not at all. But again … no embarrassing dance routine. So, it's a worthy tradeoff, I think.

Like this, watch: Last week, at the end of Dancing With the Stars, I put up some prime giveaway swag and? Come on down, Amanda Corriveau! Woot!! Send your address to donna@donnakauffman.com and your prize will tap dance its way right out to you. Congratulations!

See? How much fun was that? You can send screen saves to all your friends and be like "What? Check me out!" Of course, that's only if you come back and actually see your name in digital lights. Because … I'm not going to hunt you down. No, that's only fair.

What do you win for all that effort? Oh, that. Well, when I'm not sipping fruity umbrella drinks and eye-rolling about dance shows on television, I actually write books. For a living. That people other than my mother read. Honest. You can go look me up. Right here. So I thought maybe you'd want to be the cool kid on your block who doesn't dance, but who has a book that hasn't even been released yet and no one but you, and me, and my editor have a copy (and OK, my mother, but come on! She earned it.). The book? It's titled Sandpiper Island, set in a small town on the lovely coast of Maine, and is the third in my ever so popular Bachelors of Blueberry Cove series. It's not out until Aug. 28. Which gives you puhlenty of time to read the first two, Pelican Point and Half Moon Harbor. I know. I'm so helpful like that. Then you can wave book three under everybody's nose all neener-neener, I know what happens next and you have to wait until Aug. 28! If, you know, you're the neenering type.

And if you are (and come on, you know you are) then you also have a personal invite to join me over at my Facebook Fan Page of Fun & Frivolity. Well, that's what I call it. Zuckerberg just calls it my Fan Page. Humorless, that guy. So … see you there?

And then back here. Next week. Same dance time, same dance station!