American Idol: Well Hung
by Sarah Lazarovic

In this week's "American Idol" spin-off, "Uncut, Uncensored and Untalented," the show's producers gave the public what it wanted — a whole lotta atonal belting, crowned with a headlining performance by this season's most interesting contestant, William Hung.

The "AI" screeners usually let a handful of awful singers and deluded aspirants in to keep the show from being an alpha-personality snorefest, and Hung gamely got himself and his off-key rendition of Ricky Martin's "She Bangs" through the doors. But whether accidentally or according to the producers' grand plan, Hung isn't just biding his 15 minutes. He's undermining the whole darn thing, and inspiring the most interesting viewer response the show has garnered.

Quickly following Hung's tour de force performance, complete with hip-shaking dance moves, strange Hungabilia started popping up in the digital world. Then, he was spoofed by Jimmy Fallon on "SNL" and invited to sing on Ellen DeGeneres' show. Remixes of his tryout routine, video copies of his performance, fan sites and a petition devoted to getting him back on "American Idol" appeared. The producers heeded these calls and gave Hung another 15 minutes to perform, this time with four back-up dancers who banged awkwardly along with him. To close the show, Hung (sans bang dancers) sang "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" It was surreal.

In fact, the whole frenzy surrounding Hung is surreal. In the perfectly packaged world of "American Idol" (the opening credits are such shiny plastic pap they nearly damage the eyes), he's the antidote to the uniformity that pervades everything else. And, though he's almost certainly the real deal, you keep expecting him to reveal himself as an actor, another layer in the faux reality that primetime television has become.

Even more interesting is the whole world's preoccupation with the little UC Berkeley engineering student that could. As if there aren't 200 million other people who could likewise amuse us with their vocal stylings and two-left-footed dance floor maneuvers. Of course, Hung is the perfect dork — eager, adorably funny looking and completely unself-aware. But is that really it?

It's as if there's a transcendental voice whispering along with TV sets turned to "AI" saying, "Can you believe this guy?" And nobody can. We're unaccustomed to such dorkery on primetime TV, and when it slips into our televisual space, we're blown away by what's really just a bit of averagely bad — if artlessly charming — singing. The sort of stuff you'd find at any midweek karaoke night.

Like Hung, the most interesting contestants float above it all. They're either absolutely deluded about their own talent (like Amy, a contestant whose voice sounded like sandpaper being rubbed on her throat) and think the judges are idiots, or they're earnest and sincere, like Hung. When Cowell tauntingly questioned him after his sweet performance, Hung replied, "I already gave my best, and, um, I have no regrets at all."

Unlike almost every other contestant forced to self-pimp under the withering gaze of the big three, Hung came across as an actual human being, neither molded in emulation of some faded pop star nor self-styled as one part big talent, one part humble songsmith. To be fair, a few other contestants have managed this; like Hung, they've created holes of truth among the fakery.

You've got to wonder, though, why Hung wanted to be on the show in the first place. Countless first-generation American contestants have brought along their parents, citing the American dream as a motivation. "Boat people!" screamed one happy contestant, pointing at his parents and looking at the camera as he came out of the audition room to announce that he was going to Hollywood. But Hung is just a guy who likes to sing, and wasn't trying to represent.

In a February article in the UC Berkeley student newspaper, the Daily Californian, Hung admits to feeling exploited by the show's producers. He says he was happy with his singing, but that the dancing made him look silly. And, he says he'll begin taking dance lessons and learning to read music — further proof that the guy is sincere.

Sadly, sincere or not, his integrity has been tarnished by association with the show. "American Idol" is built on the premise that stars can be plucked, pruned and packaged to perfection. And, to its credit, the show's "products" have gone on to sell decently, and enjoy mild, "AI"-supported fame. But they're uniformly unexceptional, and yoked tightly to the show, which reaps a substantial amount of their money and fame.

All of this makes Hung reality TV's first tragicomic personality. Exploited by the show, he helped make it a little more human. And he's gotten a bit of unscripted fame in return. But what he does with that fame — whether his rumored record deal works out, or, more importantly, whether he can keep it real — is anyone's guess.

In the meantime, bang on, William, bang on.