Feb 14, 2016 5 min read

Was Coldplay hot? Was Beyonce racist? Did Bruno steal the show?

While the NFL no doubt welcomes any controversy about its Super Bowl halftime entertainment – wardrobe malfunction included – America would be better served by focusing on more pressing matters such as commercials, or, for a real change of pace, the game.

I’d be fine if the NFL gave Bruno Mars a long-term contract; he’s exactly the potent mix of singing, dancing and theatrics required to re-energize a beer-bloated stadium and man-cave crowd. Mars may have offered up the best halftime performance since James Brown in 1997, although you may recall it was interrupted by ZZ Top and a reincarnation of the Blues Brothers (Dan Aykroyd, James Belushi and John Goodman). That’s not to say the supporting acts weren’t good. But it’s a 12-minute show – one qualified act is all we need.

That’s just one problem with the halftime show – in an effort to be all things to all people, the NFL tries to squeeze in too much entertainment in too little time.

There are multiple reasons the NFL should rethink its mid-game strategy, which since 1991 has been a parade of buzz-worthy stars ranging from New Kids on the Block and Diana Ross to Paul McCartney and the Rolling Stones. But even with all the annual star power, more often than not, halftime is now the most criticized portion of the Super Bowl Sunday extravaganza.

It’s not always the artists’ fault.

• Do you know anyone who includes Coldplay, Bruno Mars and Beyonce among their personal top 10 artists? While there’s no sin in presenting a rock, country, R&B or pop show, it’s absurd to try to combine the genres.

• The show is 12 minutes. It’s a disservice to all acts to spotlight more than just a few. In 1998, the NFL tried a “Super Soulday” with Smokey Robinson, Queen Latifah, Boyz II Men, Martha Reeves and the Temptations. Too many acts, too little time.

• At least the “Soul” experience made sense – much more than 2001’s dysfunctional halftime family of Aerosmith, Britney Spears, ‘N Sync, Nelly and Mary J. Blige. (If they’d have tossed Mariah Carey into the mix, at least we’d have had an entertaining catfight).

• Two years earlier, the NFL paraded out Stevie Wonder, Gloria Estefan and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. With all due respect to his co-performers, Stevie Wonder didn’t need them. He alone could pump the crowd with his uptempo hits for 120 minutes, let alone 12. “Sir Duke,” Superstition” “Uptight” and “Signed, Sealed Delivered” would be a fine show, indeed.

• It’s a concert, not a circus. It makes sense, I suppose, that the NFL tries to appease its paying customers by having sideshows all around the stage. But the singer defines the performance, not 10,000 candles, a sky full of fireworks or shark costumes. This year’s twirling umbrellas were only slightly less bizarre than Diana Ross descending from the clouds. And let’s dispense with those annoying “true fans” running out on the field while we’re at it.

• The superstar acts are dwindling. Of those that haven’t yet taken that stage, I’d love to see Billy Joel, Elton John, Maroon 5, Jennifer Lopez or dare I suggest Justin Bieber. But then what? And if you don’t think Bieber is on the short list, turn on your radio. It’s a one-hit wonderland.

Solutions?

If the object is to re-energize the crowd, country music would do it. Oddly enough, the NFL tried it just once, in 1994. Just think of the reaction if the Charlie Daniels Band would have growled out, “You just go and lay your hand on a Pittsburgh Steelers fan” at one of the Steelers’ appearances.

And that leads to perhaps the best halftime solution of all – having acts from the hometowns of the two competing teams perform. It ties nicely into the game, gives the acts national exposure and could even be a competition. Let an act from each city perform for 6 minutes – and then viewers pick the winner. Pittsburgh wouldn’t take a back seat to any larger city – think the Clarks or Wiz Khalifa.

But if the halftime show must be a Broadway-style spectacle, why not just make it Broadway, period. Take that bloated, three-hour “Grease” TV extravaganza and compress it to its essential 12 minutes – “Greased Lightning,” “Grease,” “Summer Nights” and “You’re the One That I Want,” preferably with a cast that can sing and dance. Roll out a few dozen ’50s cars for that prerequisite sideshow, and you’re set. “Jersey Boys,” “Newsies” (with its show-stopping dance on crumpled newspapers) and “Rock of Ages” would all be worthy successors.

After 25 years, it’s time to take a bigger and smarter risk than putting Patti Labelle and Tony Bennett on the same platform which happened in 1995. Twelve minutes is barely enough to get to the restroom and back (and if you’re at the stadium, a sheer impossibility). Stick with one star, or at least with one concept.

We’ve got more important items to discuss – such as, “Just what was the purpose of that last car commercial?”