Scott Harrell
1310 E. Ninth Ave.
Tampa, FL 33605
Simon Fuller
Creator/Executive Producer
American Idol
c/o Fox Broadcasting Co.
P.O. Box 900
Beverly Hills, CA 90213
Dear Mr. Fuller,
First of all, let me thank you for the countless hours of joy watching your show American Idol has afforded me. It really is the distillation of all the things that define our nation. (Oh, I know it's modeled after your successful British version, but you've got to admit that most things work even better after they've been Americanized.) Every episode brings both top-notch entertainment from fresh young talents hungry to achieve their dreams, and the excitement of competition. Plus, knowing that my votes help determine the winner lends a sense of involvement and accomplishment that I don't get from other areas of my life, like work or family.
I've noticed that each successive season has gotten longer (thankyouthankyouthankyou!), but also that some of the new wrinkles aren't quite as compelling as the original elements. And it's not just me; several of those snarky newspaper and magazine writers have mentioned it, too. Sure, I know that most of them hated the show from the start, and some others are probably just riding a post-From Justin to Kelly backlash.
(Were you involved with that? I found it completely underrated, a fun romp and not at all ¨an unspeakable demon-turd whose toxic fumes devoured any meager residual quality left in the ‘Teen-Love Musical' genre’ — that's a quote from www.killsimonfuller.com. In fact, the only other movie in recent memory to suffer such unfair prejudice is the simply wonderful Gigli.)
But in some cases, they do have a point. And while it's certainly not my place to tell you how to do your job, I am a member of the audience you're trying to embrace, and as such thought I'd send you a few ideas I cooked up for making Idol an even bigger and more enthralling success.
First of all, you've got to extend the schedule to five nights a week. American Idol should be a Monday-through-Friday, gather-the-family-'round-the-box tradition. You may worry that the show is already overexposed, what with the video games and the karaoke toys and clip-on neon belly-button rings and all, and that three seasons' worth of two-nights-weekly episodes have already pushed the boundaries of the average viewer's fickle attention span. But consider this: underneath the bells and whistles, Idol is a game show, and that genre has an enduring reputation for winning with the every-weeknight format.
I know what you're thinking — how the heck are you going to fill up five episodes per week? Well, to begin with, you'll have to add more elements of that other runaway everyday success, the soap opera. Throw some cameras up around the Idol Mansion. Give us a little more of the juicy-juicy. Is the soft-spoken minister's son from Ohio shtupping the blonde Texan tomboy? Is the cute independent-theater hopeful gay, or just a really effeminate straight guy who enjoys independent theater? You've got a plethora of huge, fragile, yearning egos cooped up together. I was in the Drama Club in high school — I know there's some eminently watchable stuff going on in there. Though if there isn't, don't be afraid to take a cue from The Real World with regard to selecting contestants; don't be afraid to throw in a would-be hip-hop star, or maybe a bitter young man who actually plays an instrument, writes his own songs and considers the music of Phil Collins utterly unlistenable.
Secondly, I'm sure you're aware of those former contestants who've been dismissed when past or current criminal allegations against them have been uncovered. This seems like a waste of potential material, to say the least. You could team up with celebrity-crime website The Smoking Gun for a weekly feature in which competitors' legal infractions are revealed. Take it one step further, and hold the contestants to surprise urine tests — if anyone turns up positive for drugs, you can have the audience vote on whether that contender stays or goes. Go on, tell me major Idol tie-in advertiser AT&T Wireless wouldn't be thrilled; you can't.
I have many, many more ideas, but this letter's getting a bit long-winded, so let me just briefly lay out a few more of the more obvious and self-explanatory ones:
Extended profiles of those contestants' parents who seem the most, uh, enthusiastic about their kids' talents. BONUS: Have the audience elect the family they think was most angry over their child's dismissal, and send Simon Cowell to their apartment/trailer/RV to explain in person just how bad the audition was.
Change the format to have male and female co-winners. The champions will be married on national television. They'll also be contractually obligated to re-make Sonny & Cher's ¨I Got You, Babe,’ and star in their own reality series. On the show, disenchanted former friends will play ¨pranks’ — such as putting poisonous animals in their bed and leaving fake life-insurance policies around the house — on the couple, making each think the other is trying to kill them.
Two words: mid-season pregnancy.
Finally, Mister Fuller, I must ask if you've considered devising some sort of punishment to hang over the heads of contestants, in the name of upping the suspense ante. I think a contestant might be more intensely motivated to sing like he or she had never sung before, if he or she knew avoiding some even more humiliating (or perhaps injurious) fate depended on it. I'll leave it up to your imagination, but you might want to include Mister Cowell in the brainstorming session — he could come up with a few good ways to get back at some of the hacks who wasted his valuable time.
Speaking of time, thanks for yours. I only want to see the show continue to flourish and grow. There's a lot of crap out there, Mister Fuller. We need all the quality programming we can get.
Yours,
Scott T. Harrell
This article appears in Apr 15-21, 2004.