So You Think You Can Dance Australia is still doing well in the ratings.
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Demi and Jack's Samba was, by far, our reader's favorite top 18 routine. Congrats to them and choreographer Paul Green
There is some backlash developing to the "you have to vote for your favorites" pleas from reality show hosts:
But if we're going to start getting pleas from the show's host, judges and eliminated dancers that we have to vote or talented kids will be cut, then somebody needs a wake up call.
'We' did vote. And furthermore, all the talented kids except one will be cut. That's the premise of the show.
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There's still appreciation for the level of talent SYTYCDAus has attracted:
The Aussie dancers on this show are at the top of their game. They're the best at what they do and many have spent years training in schools and dancing in stage productions and music video clips.
Compare that to the karaoke singers who are rolled out for Australian Idol each year. Many of them have never had any formal singing training at all.
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The Campbelltown Advertiser talks to friends of contestant Rhiannon Villareal:
Principal teacher at the school, Debby Mostyn, said Ms Villareal could win the competition.
"She has that x-factor that the judges look for," she said.
"While the other dancers can do all the technical moves too, Rhiannon has the personality and the charisma as well as being an awesome dancer.
"The students love her and she has a very good rapport with the girls.
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Get a gay perspective on the show from Australia's SSONet:
Australian contestants are quite happy to share their emotions with the country. There have already been plenty of tantrums and tears amidst the jubilation. It’s entirely appropriate, as an equal mix of emotion, conflict and triumph are the mainstay of reality TV. It appears the producers have done their homework on the contestants and hand-delivered sympathetic stories for the judges to help reveal.
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On the other hand, The Age's Marieke Hardy thinks it's all disposable:
OK, OK, I'll write about So You Think You Can Freaking Dance Australia.
To be honest, I haven't been avoiding it so much as waiting for the early, coltish episodes to even out and the show to hit its straps. Even given the unnerving devotion of my friends to various breathless participants (Genevieve took it upon herself to start a Facebook group, earnestly declaring "Hilton has chops! Hilton is the hotness! Hilton CAN DANCE!" Which pretty well emphatically placed her in a certain handsome hoofer's corner before his ousting) and their habit of texting me at key points between 7.30pm and 9.30pm on Sundays ("I'm also a fan of Rhys, just so you know," bewilderingly confided another devotee to me via SMS), I still held out climbing on board the dance train and stopping all stations to jivesville. There's no room in my world to get excited about another reality television show. My days are full of dizzying tumult and dorky literature and the last thing I need is to spend Monday nights twisted up like an ampersand on the couch just because Hawkeye Flapjack got given the boot for a below-par lyrical headspin technique.
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