Dancing with the press

LOS ANGELES - Ballroom dancing is one of those activities, like stargazing or jewel thievery, that are perhaps best pursued under the canopy of night.

But the sun is still high in the sky as ABC prepares to broadcast another week of its terpsichorean hit, Dancing With the Stars. The studio audience sits on rows of benches in a shaded portico outside the Charles Cappleman Studio, waiting to be admitted.

Many of them appear to be dressed for a cotillion. It's the most formal crowd on the Television City lot, miles above the American Idol audience, which shoots in the same building, and light years more presentable than the goofy would-be contestants for The Price Is Right who gather around the corner.

There's no dress code for Dancing With the Stars, but if you want to sit in camera range at one of the tables around the dance floor, you'd better be attired in prom-wear. Any more casual, and you're stuck up in the balcony.

That creates a strange-looking scenario outside the studio as women in cocktail dresses line up to use a porta-potty.

The press is ushered into a holding pen backstage. Cans of Sterno flicker under a bland but ferociously attacked buffet. The reporters, the cameramen and the publicists for the network and for the nine remaining celebrity dancers sit on folding chairs in front of a bank of monitors.

And we're off. "Tonight the pressure is hitting a boiling point," host Tom Bergeron announces at the top of the show. "Can anyone knock off Kristi Yamaguchi?"

The usually impassive former figure skater is up first with her partner Mark Ballas. She promises "passion and aggression" in her paso doble. The judges go wild, awarding them a near-perfect score of 29.

Priscilla Presley does not fare as well with her partner, Louis van Amstel. The judges don't seem to care that she borrowed her powder-blue harem costume from the Jasmine character at Disneyland, but they severely punish her for inserting a forbidden lift at the end of her Viennese waltz. 22 points.

Adam Carolla makes the entrance of the night, circling his partner Julianne Hough on a unicycle. He has on a Zorro outfit, with cape and pencil-thin paste-on mustache, a look he later compares to a "silent porn star." Carolla gets more airtime than anyone in the contest so he can crack jokes. The judges relish his wit, but not his dancing, drubbing him with a 19.

Marlee Matlin and her partner Fabian Sanchez execute a silly and amateurish waltz which for some reason delights the judges, Len Goodman, Carrie Ann Inaba and Bruno Tonioli. Wiping away tears, Inaba says, "You truly moved me." Are they using their score paddles to dice onions under the table? 24 points.

Singer Mario and his partner Karina Smirnoff deliver a handsome paso doble. The British judge, Goodman, once again rips Mario's performance with mysterious vehemence. Did Mario once refuse to sign an autograph for one of Goodman's grandchildren? 24 points.

NFL player Jason Taylor, a clear fan favorite, wafts through the waltz with Edyta Sliwinska. The judges are ecstatic, awarding them a 29, a score that draws gasps of surprise in the press corral.

Following up on a couple of the judges' comments, host Bergeron goes into a break inquiring, "Where else can you get liver and swan sex in one show?" Where indeed.

Cristian de la Fuente dances a very vocal paso doble with his partner, Cheryl Burke, both of them dressed like R-rated vampires. The performance follows a shameless plug for Burke's new dance studio. Apparently self-promotion is not as objectionable as a lift. 26 points.

Shannon Elizabeth is up next with her partner Derek Hough, Julianne's brother. He's still battling the neck injury sustained during rehearsals the previous week. Slow-motion footage of his sprain is shown so often, it's become like the Zapruder film of Dancing With the Stars. Their waltz draws the first 10 of the season from Goodman. 28 points.

Finally Marissa Jaret Winokur, decked out in a Carmen dress, dances with Tony Dovolani. The normally jaded press contingent breaks into applause. The judges are not as enthused. 24 points.

Minutes after the show ends, the press is ushered onto the dance floor. They stand behind a white-link partition with the names of their outlets taped on the floor. First come the infotainment shows - Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, Extra and the rest.

Rank has its privileges. The representatives for these shows, Nancy O'Dell, Kevin Frazier, former Dancing contestant Mel B (Scary Spice), all dressed to the nines, didn't have to sit backstage. They were seated in the ballroom along with the odd contingent of "celebrities" that DWTS (or DWS, as the network abbreviates it) draws.

Tonight, the celebs were actress Lisa Ann Walter, who has a bit part in Drillbit Taylor, and Marla Maples, the Donald's anorexic-looking ex, who is here with her date, former Bachelor contestant Andy Baldwin, dressed in his dazzling Navy whites.

Back on the press line, the gossip magazines (People, Us, In Touch and so on) follow the TV outlets, then come the Web sites (AOL, MSN), and finally the newspapers. It's good to know where you stand in the grand scheme of things.

The publicists proceed to usher their clients and their dance partners down the line. No one's winning Pulitzers for this cushy brand of journalism.

More cheek kisses are exchanged than at a Russian wedding. The same obvious softball questions ("Were you happy with your performance?") are met with the same platitudes ("Yes, all that hard work in rehearsal really paid off").

For some reason, the person wearing the most makeup in the building is not a performer or even the spackled-on Bergeron. It's Marlee Matlin's sign language translator.

In this kid-glove setting, I manage to anger Jason Taylor, who at 6-feet-6 and 255 chiseled pounds is the one contestant you don't want to upset. But he's convinced that I'm implying his dancing was gay (the word I used was flamboyant), and with each question I only dig myself deeper into Taylor's annoyance. His publicist ends the "interview" before he slugs me.

Thank goodness. I was about 10 seconds away from being the first man ever to get pounded into oatmeal at a ballroom competition.

The following night, Tuesday, security is extra tight at the studio because Idol is shooting in the same building at the same time.

A dubious security guard holds me at the gate while he checks his list over and over. Walk-up traffic is always considered suspicious in Los Angeles. While I'm cooling my heels, a gleaming black Maybach pulls up and the guard, smiling broadly, waves Ben Stiller through without glancing at his clipboard.

Maybe I'm covering the wrong show. Idol gets Stiller, Robin Williams, and other A-listers. Who shows up for DWTS? Tonight it's Adrian Zmed and Lucy Lawless, almost unrecognizable without makeup.

But at least we're favored with a pair of performances by Sheryl Crow. Back in the press enclave, I ask the ABC publicist if Ms. Crow will be entertaining questions afterward.

Not likely, he says. Like almost all musical guests on the series, Crow taped her segments hours ago and has long since left the building.

So much for the "live" graphic that pops up on the screen every few minutes.

To pad out the hour, DWTS introduces a segment in which pairs of children compete. It's cute but creepy, seeing these 8-year-olds run through very grown-up dance moves to songs like "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid.

Backstage, the publicists all coo and clap. "They're so cute!" Publicists love kids. The press seems unmoved.

Gradually, the set of nine contestants is winnowed down to the most vulnerable. Cohost Samantha Harris keeps insisting that the declarations of safety are being made "in no particular order." But from Kristi to Jason on down, it seems to be in precisely the order of their ranking.

Two blocks away on Beverly Boulevard, a movie theater is showing Carolla's straight-to-obscurity comedy, The Hammer. "Vote for Carolla" reads the marquee.

It doesn't help. Carolla is sent packing. A crestfallen Bergeron notes that "Adam has been like our George Hamilton or Jerry Springer." As if those were good things.

The remaining eight couples are handed plain brown envelopes with the dance they will be performing next and the music they have been assigned.

Carolla and Hough make one last round of the press gauntlet, but it's an abbreviated session because he has to be whisked across town to tape Jimmy Kimmel Live, a post-dismissal ritual.

The TV outlets each get ample individual time with Carolla, but to accommodate his schedule, the print reporters are told they will get a brief joint session. It turns into an undignified rugby scrum.

It's good to know where you stand in the grand scheme of things.