Tag Archives: Artem Chigvintsev

Strictly Come Dancing: Look at ’em, they’re standing up

It’s the semi-finals and to mark the occasion Bruno is particularly  deliciously and delightfully bonkers, while tonight’s audience have decided to spend most of the hour and a half on their feet apparently… call me a curmudgeon but not every single one of those dances deserved a standing ovation.

So who will be going to BLACKPOOL next week? Well, if Harry and Aliona, and Chelsee and Pasha aren’t in the final there’s no justice in the spray-tanned, sequinned world of Strictly.

There were some great music choices this week (I can never hear too much Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine I’m afraid), but setting the Charleston to I’m Just Wild About Harry was a neat move on Aliona’s part. She also seems to have listened to all Len’s grumbles about her choreography in the past two series and Harry’s reaping the benefits. It helps that he is a great dancer. Artem’s choreography for the Charleston was bolder and more interesting, but Harry and Aliona looked well-matched in their dance, while Holly was shown up by her partner’s superior skills.

Harry and Aliona also turned in a beautiful and romantic Viennese waltz. It was, as Craig noted, rather more melancholy than most and all the better for it.

By comparison I found Alex’s waltz boring. Yes, it was graceful and well-executed, but if you find yourself pondering the professional dancer’s dodgy hair cut instead of the dancing something is wrong I’m afraid.

And not even Gloria Estefan could save Alex’s salsa. She has improved remarkably, but she’s just not in the same league as Harry or Chelsee. And that rather ugly starfish lift thing didn’t do her any favours either.

Chelsee outshone Alex in her American Smooth, which was graceful, brilliant and exquisite, and was mesmerising in the paso doble. It’s going to be a close run thing between her and Harry next week.

Whether it will be Alex, Holly or Jason who joins them on the coach up north is anybody’s guess.

Holly and Artem’s Argentine tango was a pleasure to watch, but the confidence she showed there was sadly lacking from the Charleston (which could have been a real showstopper).

Jason seems to annoy people, so despite a samba that, for once, I didn’t have to watch through my fingers and an amazing Argentine Tango, there’s no guarantee he’s getting within a mile of a VT heavy on Kiss Me Quick hats and rollercoasters next week.

The results show is actually going to be interesting this week – I’ll see you there!

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Strictly: Time to talk about the norks

It’s time for this blog to readdress the balance of discussion. No socio-political analysis this week. Time to talk about the norks. And the outfits.

This week is Movie Night! We can tell this because the dancers come out dressed up in immediately obvious outfits. Harry is Clint Eastwood. Robbie and Ola are The Blues Brothers. Jason and Kristina are Bonnie and Clyde; James and Alex are doing James Bond. First we get a bit of jiving to Saturday Night at the Movies by the professionals, which is the only time we get to see Flavia and her beautiful cheekbones. We need more of Flavia and less of Vincent’s eyebrows. In fact, none at all of Vincent’s eyebrows.

Bruce’s intros are particularly dreadful and he fluffs his first lines. When will the BBC learn that the novelty value of having an old duffer in his eighties shuffling around on stage and mumbling utter rubbish has gone? They’ve got Tess right this week though – lovely culotte jumpsuit (MaxMara), red lips, Rita Hayworth waterfall hair. It’s always such a relief when they’ve remembered to give her a supportive undergarment and I don’t have to spend the Tess’s Nest bits averting my eyes as her boobs slowly descend waistwards.

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Strictly: Back where it belongs.

Russell Grant fired from Wembley

I’m going to sound a bit of a grump, I know, and I hate to spoil the atmosphere and all that, but last week’s Strictly was, I thought, the worst I’d ever seen. Wembley Arena was a rubbish venue for the average TV viewer. It might have been enjoyable for those actually there, which is why the dancers and Brucie seemed genuinely so excited about it all, but sitting at home, it just looked and sounded completely wrong. I haven’t spoken to anyone this week who thought it worked well at Wembley. Anyway, the long and short of it is I was glad to see things back in the studio this week.

They seemed to give the show an X-Factor style intro, with Tess giving the stats from last week’s show, and recounting the celebs meeting the Doochess of Cornwall. This week was a two-dance week, with the couples performing a ‘swingathon’ as well as the usual ballroom or latin effort. I always find the thought of a swingathon mildly disturbing, with images of a 70s style keys-on–the-table party flitting through my mind, but then we do live in Crowborough where that sort of thing happened all the time, so I’m told. (Note to self – remove the Pampas grass from the front garden).  Continue reading

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Strictly Come Dancing: “Live from a municipal swimming pool”

My father, a secondary school teacher, was a marvellous man in many ways, but he had some mysterious prejudices. Back in the 1984, when Frankie Go To Hollywood released ‘Relax’ and, thanks to DJ Mike  Read, it was banned from Radio 1 and Top of the Pops, dad announced how nonsensical a decision it was. “A harmless song,” he said. The song that he thought was filthy, explicit muck that would cause terrible damage to innocent young minds was ‘Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go’ by WHAM.No, I have no idea what he was on about either. But both songs were featured in this week’s Strictly, live from Wembley Arena, and I don’t think any youthful minds were irredeemably corrupted by Dave Arch and his orchestra.

The best way to watch Strictly, other than knocking back a shot every time Brucie makes a crap pun or Tess gives a rictus grin, is to follow the witty comments on Twitter. Despite all the build-up, Wembley is a ghastly place for this week’s show. It all came across as very Saturday Night Special to me, especially the opening group dance number to a Queen medley. I thought the dance floor far too big, and the sound quality dreadful. Sue Perkins tweeted: “Judging by the sound, this week’s Strictly is coming live from a municipal swimming pool”.

But leaving that aside, what of our dancers? Robbie and Ola kicked off quite literally on rather odd podiums that looked like giant drums. Ola sported a big curly hair ‘do and a skintight, blue and silver catsuit which showed off her pierced bellybutton. In fact, other than whiskers and a tail, she looked like a character from Cats. It was certainly an outfit that drew the attention of all heterosexual males (“one for the dads” as a friend put it), although when Robbie ripped his shirt open, it was a pleasant distraction for some of the rest of us. Their routine included a scary leapfrog and some lifts that looked, from my perspective, like his face was buried in her crotch. But then again, I know nothing about dancing. I’ve come to quite like Robbie, but I expect him to be in the bottom two this week, and he might go (either him or Anita is my guess).

Alex and James performed an excellent tango to ‘Relax’ (and I’m sorry, but it’s a belter of a song, and needs a more throbbing bass than Dave Arch and his lovely orchestra can produce. It also needs the fine and filthy voice of Holly Johnson). But Alex and James’ tango was superb, and her confidence in their dance relationship has vastly improved. I liked the use of vast, white floor-to-ceiling ribbons in the routine, it broke up the vast echoey ‘sports hall’ feeling of the place. In terms of their dance, Craig said, it was “sharp, staccato, theatrical and intense” and it was. I like Alex and I want her to do well. Many are suggesting Jason and Harry as potential overall winners, but I’m hoping to see Alex or Chelsee up there myself. Continue reading

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