The power of the underdog

“There is no excellent beauty that has not some strangeness in the proportion.”

—Francis Bacon

Bacon’s assertion is spare, eloquent, and bang-on. I saw proof of his claim today when I tuned into a summer phenomenon that I somehow missed: Paul Potts on Britain’s Got Talent. My mom told me about Potts last night, explaining that she and her colleagues have been watching his performances on YouTube at the office around a communal box of Kleenex. Now, my mom is not a reality TV person, and neither am I, so I decided her account of Potts’s effect was worth checking out. This is the video I watched on YouTube (Potts’s audition for the show):

I just regained normal breathing functions a minute ago after watching this for the fourth time. As much as I still want to jump on an airplane and hug the unlikely hero Potts for his stunning courage, tenacity, and talent, I am also able now to be a little objective about what reduced me to a pile of blubbering jelly on the carpet below my desk. It’s the way the clip highlights the complete improbability that Potts will be successful, while at the same time hinting that his success is exactly what we’re about to watch.

From the beginning, we’re made aware of Potts’s strangeness through shots of him pacing nervously in the waiting room and delivering a moving but far-from-leading-man introduction of himself to the show’s interviewers. We gulp a little when at the start of his audition, Potts tells the judges that he “wants to sing opera”—this, on a show that regularly rewards Celine Dion-like balladeers and other cheese. We witness his distress as the camera pans among the show’s skeptical judges, who look as though they’ve just smelled something unspeakably foul. And we feel his pain via several segments showcasing his confidence problems, which occur at the same time we know the judges are pondering his fate. Especially effective is the shot of Potts standing on the stage in hell as he awaits the verdict. When Simon Cowell tells Potts to go ahead, the expression on the notoriously callous judge’s face is closed and ungenerous; classic narrative tension is at an apex: all odds are against the underdog.

Now, who doesn’t love an underdog? Who hasn’t felt bullied and trodden on and swallowed by the world? Who doesn’t want Potts to wipe that dour look off Simon’s face and vindicate us all?

Within ten seconds of Potts’s performance, we know we are watching something phenomenal. Through crooked teeth, with eyes ablaze, Potts unleashes a voice powerful and pitch-perfect, a voice strengthened by the humiliations its owner has suffered over the years. It’s a voice everyone in the audience is desperate to hear; it is a salve, proof that there is justice in the world. It is a story of redemption.

The clip’s producers capture the universal, emotional response to this story by alternating between Potts, audience members shaking their heads and wiping their eyes, and the judges, whose skepticism visibly melts into willing submission and gratitude. The YouTube clip masterfully conveys the unexpected ferocity of Potts’s beauty. Potts’s voice is a marvel, but it’s the story that makes us weep.

Comments

[sarah]

i never heard of him either and now i am bawling.

[Nicole Laborde]

OK, the second time around both Dylan and I were crying. The parting shot of him really gets me.

[kiley]

The Aerosmith rising up in the background as he walks off triumphant is what pushed me right over the edge. It's got nothing to do with anything, but its melodrama somehow totally works.

[Sarah]

Nice use of its and it's in the same sentence!

[kiley]

Yeah, that one's no prob, but I must admit I still struggle with "who" and "whom." You haven't covered that yet in Grammar Tips, have you? I've got a simple trick that works in about 90% of cases, I figure (briefly: substitute "him, them, etc." for "whom" and "he, they, etc." for "who"). But really, I know it's about direct and indirect objects, and that hurts my brain.

[sweet succulent grouper]

This is one of those moments when I find myself faced with my maleness and feeling rather neandrathalesque. After reading the post and finding it quite melodramatic, I watched the clip. My thoughts, brilliant voice, nicely done, good on 'em. But I just would have slapped him on the back while my thoughts kept wondering back to the hot chick in the middle. Damn you testosterone......

[kiley]

S.S.G.,

That's quite the handle! Are you from Florida (that's what I think of when I think grouper)? Thanks for the honesty and a dose of testosterone!

[sweet succulent grouper]

kiley,

Glad you like the handle. Florida eh? Brings up great mental images of me in penny loafers/white socks, plaid shirt tucked in to my white shorts, huge welderesque sunglasses and a big crazy see- through red visor complete with a snappy phrase like "Don't tase me bro" or in keeping with your Bacon theme, "Prose before Hos" emblazoned across it. Perhaps a jolly good round of lawn bowling, or maybe even croquet on the lido deck. Ah, the good life. Oh, and your welcome.

[Travis]

I think the other amazing thing about the clip is that it shows the power of opera music itself to pierce the intellectual shields we have and tap into the raw emotion that music can evoke. His choice of music, a piece of music that itself starts with hope and ends with victory, is the perfect soundtrack to his own challenge.

Also, here's how to tell the difference between WHO and WHOM:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dXHnLd89BE

[kiley]

I saw that episode of The Office... loved it. It also had this beauty from Darryl (to Kelly): "I like you ... what's not to like? But you need to access your uncrazy side." Then the self-satisfied strut away from her as her jaw drops to the floor.