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The 8 finalists for the show.
Some of the worst dancing I’ve ever witnessed.
One man in particular.
He's 49 years old.
I found him at a party.
He’d writhe and worm around the floor, strike Adonis-like poses and then begin tap-dancing. Truly “Extraordinary.”
So when he comes to the semi-final round, it becomes very clear, very fast that the man is damn-near retarded.
I tell the executive.
He doesn’t care.
He’s an extraordinary dancer, No, he’s not even kinda retarded, I think he’s actually retarded, Doesn’t matter, he’s here, we’re shooting him.
So we do.
I feel horrible.
He goes out there and my only redemption is that he feels amazing.
He exits the stage, comes to the wings where I’m to shoot the on-the-fly interview and he says, “This was one of the greatest moments of my life.”
My cameraman looks to me and says, “Dude, we’re going to Hell and you’re leading the way.”
Fuck.
At least we can now send him home, right?
Wrong.
The executives begin arguing that he – the retarded man! – is the most “Extraordinary” and that he should move on to the final.
I cannot believe my ears.
I will not be able to hold my tongue.
Ten minutes into the discussion, however, I realized that common sense would prevail; he’s was not going to be chosen as one of the two finalists.
Sheesh!
But we still have to shoot the reaction shots of not only the two who move on but those who do not.
The man is devastated and begins to cry.