The Spirit Tunnel is unapologetic celebrity worship — and extremely fun

To make a splash in the outdated glut of TV talk shows, a host has to have a gimmick. James Corden had “Carpool Karaoke,” Jimmy Kimmel had “Mean Tweets,” Kelly Clarkson has “Kellyoke,” and Jennifer Hudson has “The Spirit Tunnel.”

On The Jennifer Hudson Show, hosted by the former American Idol contestant and EGOT-winner, Spirit Tunnel videos have become a backstage ritual, a viral sensation, and a barometer for measuring a celebrity’s current status in the cultural ecosystem. The concept is a lo-fi twist on the Soul Train line: As guests make their way to and/or from the interview couch, staff members flank either side of the hallway and serenade them a cappella with a song crafted specifically for them.

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Perhaps, while strolling through Instagram or TikTok, you’ve come across Michelle Obama strutting as some energetic folks sing to the tune of Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” or Sheryl Lee Ralph being regaled with a rhythmic ode inspired by her role in the original Broadway production of Dreamgirls? They were being doused with the Hudson spirit.

The videos can be as short as a few seconds or as long as a minute, and the tunes can be as elaborate as a full verse-chorus or as basic as a repeated chant of the honoree’s name. And in just a short time, they can reveal a hell of a lot about a celebrity’s personality and persona, as in: Do they have rhythm? Are they any good at improv? And, how beloved are they, really?

A “successful” tunnel experience — one that goes viral because it makes the viewer smile rather than cringe from embarrassment — is a delicate alchemy to achieve. Two different strains of performance converge: That of the dedicated staff, who, on top of all their other duties in producing a daily show, have to dream up short, energy-fueled bits of musical hype. (In a video featuring Hudson and some of her staff, it’s implied that everyone involved enjoys the process and sees it as a way to bring colleagues together across various departments.) In some cases, the crew is truly showing up and showing out, as they did with singer/songwriter Muni Long, who got a verse AND a chorus, and even a soulful ad-lib from one of the singers (to Long’s audible delight):

Or Debbie Allen, who received some vocal harmonizing:

And then there’s the show that the guest must put on, as the recipient of these musical dedications. Not unlike the experience of getting an unexpected rendition of “Happy Birthday” sung to you by the restaurant’s waitstaff, the pressure is on to seem willing to play along and react in real time, no matter how awkward you feel about dancing, or else risk looking like a killjoy. Regina Hall played it demure and mindful, oscillating between cupping her hands at her face while looking down bashfully, and really getting into it with the fervor of a bachelorette partygoer. Chelsea Handler didn’t do much besides bop her head and grin hugely — “I wish I could dance!” she exclaims nervously — but for someone who usually traffics in snark and barbs, the moment actually softens her image a bit.

When both staff song and honoree’s dance are firing on all cylinders, you get something like Usher (whose roller skates appear to be permanently superglued to his feet these days), cheesing while gliding smoothly and confidently down the densely packed hallway of exuberant staff members singing in the tune of “Yeah!” It’s Keke Palmer, effervescent as usual, whipping her hair like she’s Tina Turner as her tunnel choir references her off-the-cuff meme “Sorry to this man.” The lyrics are specific and familiar, reflecting the subjects’ well-tended legacies; in turn, those subjects show off their magnetism and gift for working the room.

Videos like Usher and Palmer are fun because they’re essentially confirmation bias; we expect them, being the pros that they are, to serve polished entertainment and they deliver, always. But Spirit Tunnel joy also manifests in the discoveries they bring from the people we might know less about. Many tunnel participants seem to be inadvertently clueing us in to how they probably show up on wedding dance floors or at backyard BBQs: Johnny Gill, dressed like an ESPN sportscaster while strolling like a catdaddy; Simu Liu popping and locking as if he’s Leonardo DiCaprio in The Wolf of Wall Street; Tina Knowles, looking so blissful and fabulous yet taking a surprisingly long time to walk the hallway and catch that beat. (Beyoncé and Solange didn’t get everything from their mama.)

@jenniferhudsonshow We’ve got Simu here, walking through the tunnel! @Simu Liu ♬ original sound – Jennifer Hudson Show

Hudson and her team have billed the show as “The Happy Place,” with The Spirit Tunnel serving as the on/off ramp paved with glitter and positivity. That doesn’t mean a certain tension can’t be perceived if you watch and compare enough of these videos, and it’s not just from the guests who rush through the tunnel awkwardly — I’m looking at you, most of the cast of No Good Deed. (At least The Pitt‘s Noah Wyle exercised his right to abstain altogether. Know thyself!)

At its core, this is an exercise in celebrity worship, and a hierarchy inevitably emerges as it becomes apparent that, understandably, not every guest inspires the same level of creativity or enthusiasm from the staff. Rebel Ridge star Aaron Pierre’s trip down the tunnel went viral in part because he’s a very good-looking man who looks cool while dancing, but also because the staff’s uber-minimalist song and relatively sparsely-attended performance laid bare the truth that he doesn’t yet have the referential oeuvre of an Angela Bassett.

For his part, Pierre saves the video from being embarrassing because he seems genuinely touched by the gesture and just happy to be there — and that’s perhaps the primary appeal of seeing everyone journey down the Spirit Tunnel. Honestly, I’ve watched maybe five minutes total of the actual Jennifer Hudson Show; with no disrespect to Hudson and her team, they’re not exactly innovating the form or delivering hard-hitting interviews. The true exposure is in those few seconds when the hands are clapping, the feet are stomping, and the spirit is thrust upon them. The vulnerability is there for all to see.