Reality TV is notoriously awful. Worse, it's nasty. Project Runway, for example, features some truly talented designers. But the way the show is spliced together, you'd think they were all out to tear each other to shreds. Maybe they are. The judges are worse -- Heidi Klum in particular revels in hyperbole, calling a pretty dress with some extra zippers "completely over the top" and snorting/snickering. That's what passes for constructive criticism these days?

American Idol, of course, holds the crown for nastiness and hyperbole. It's not just what the judges do and say, though, but the spirit of the show that wreaks. It's fame-centric, mired in pleasing the least common denominator. 

So You Think You Can Dance was created as the mid-summer fill-in for idol. It was never meant to succeed on any grand scale. And yet, now occupying a prime fall slot, the show's proving that not only does it make most excellent television, that it can succeed without falling back on any of the gimmickery that plagues most reality television. 

Let's start with the dancing. Whereas Idol is conservative, to the point where Adam Lambert's Queen rehashes were considered avant garde by the judges, Dance is with it. I'm into the music scene in a big way (you know, I read Pitchfork and stuff), and am always impressed when I hear a remix of some song that's been out for a week. The dances themselves are wild -- to the point where you could see some of those moves being imitated in the clubs (where as everything on Idol is an imitation). In short, Dance respects our intelligence, sophistication, and emotional and sexual maturity.

Last night's numbers included a gospel revival, Van Gough painting come to life to haunt the painter, Argentinian tango, hip hop tennis match, and an emotionally wrought modern dance, among others. During a racecar/mechanic-themed hip hop number last night, Karen Hauer stood on top of Kevin Hunte's thighs and proceeded to shake her booty in his face -- making Kevin the stripper stage and the recipient of the lap dance all in one. Totally club-worthy. Of course there are more, shall we say, refined numbers as well, but you really never know what to expect. 

Most important, though, are the shows judges. Nigel in particular could have imitated Simon Cowell. But he doesn't. He never overreacts with outrage to some remark by a contestant. He focuses on the postives, or gives spcecific, technical criticism (so that, you know, the viewers can actually learn something). Best of all, he's not jaded -- he will cry if he's moved by a dance. Same goes for every other judge on the show, guest judges included. 

Finally, Dance shows that inane footage of contestants outside the competition is unnecessary to capture personal drama. Phillip Attmore, one of the two contestants cut last night, acknowledged that his father had passed away the previous week, and that roughly half the contestants had attended the funeral with him. Everyone, the stoic Cat Deeley included, was sobbing. 

With Dance we have a show that, for the most part, has shed the worst traits of reality TV -- the false controversies, the nastiness, the hyperbole, and the dumbed-down content. Also, unlike some of the Bravo series (say, Top Chef), Dance lacks artificial constraints -- cook a meal for vegans in twenty minutes while hanging upside down, or whatever. The producers of Dance had the good sense to realicng that dancing (like cooking) is hard enough on its own. So we actually get two hours of superfluous dance and dance direction. Why would we want anything else?