(Close-reading waltzes and rumbas and shouting at fusty judge Len Goodman when he docks points is a great escape from caustic political sparring, as well.) DWTS offers up sorely needed literal and figurative sparkle, from the disco ball overhead to the contestants all but chicken-cutlet-battered in rhinestones: The costumes and makeup are exquisite even when they’re utterly ridiculous. After a long break, however, I came to this season with fresh eyes‚ still spiritually beleaguered from the pandemic, and the mother of a kid getting into dancing herself-an ideal Venn diagram of scenarios, as it turns out.ĭWTS is the perfect show to watch with a child: It’s wholesome and pure, devoid of violence and demanding precious little of the viewer, other than amateur opinions of Olivia Jade’s cha-cha-cha.
Though I grew up dancing and performing in recitals and was dazzled by the best of the “stars” (Emmitt Smith is a consummate showman don’t let anyone tell you differently!), it became a work task like any other.
In Dancing with the Stars’ s infancy (it premiered in 2005), I was a newbie entertainment news producer at ABC, the network that airs DWTS, forced (read: paid) to record and recap the show every week for affiliate radio stations. As the show crowns its winners tonight, I’m ready to pronounce this season-the 30th-its best yet.
#Dancing with the stars series#
In this particular mood, and because I wanted to encourage my 7-year-old daughter to watch a dance-based series that was not melodramatic back seasons of Dance Moms, we rediscovered a show that isn’t cool in elite media-bubble circles so much as a weekly shot of serotonin and glitter: Dancing with the Stars. I get that we’re living through a golden era of television, but the hint of snobbery around prestige TV-the deluge of obsessive tweets and celebrity profiles and memes-can feel as insufferable to me as every character on The White Lotus.
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