Sad news for O-Town groupies. ABC pulled the May 5 episode of Making the Band, and although it swears the show will return after sweeps end... well, look what happened -- or didn't happen -- to Wasteland. So absorb the emotional turmoil, revel in it, get lost in Erik-Michael's lips and get one last wave of nausea when you see Lou. You know, just in case. And I'd like to send a shout out to Omar G for a fan-fucking-tastic recap of the ill-conceived ABC special that tells the story of Jesus -- in claymation. It brings The Bible one step closer to being The Nightmare Before Christmas. And that's good, right?
As usual, the pre-credits sequence tips us off that this will be an episode centering on Ikaika and Ashley, juxtaposing two dissimilar family situations. There are social morals here, folks, brewed fresh and Bunim-Murray style -- so, laced with arsenic. Drink 'em down. Mrs. Angel, who we shall call Paula since that's her name, hugs Ashley outside their home in Redding, California, in footage shot before Ashley left for Orlando. She talks about feeling strange because he's moving cross-country, and in voice-over, Ashley says how really proud she is of him. His stepfather, is another story -- Ash hints that he auditioned for O-Town in secret. And look, Ikaika's under the table again, meaning he's joined at the ear with Malia. "I love you insanely," Malia says. Sounds like a pretty fair assessment of their relationship. Again, Ikaika reminds us that "Malia really doesn't like cameras, but she's willing to like deal with it."
Discussing the guys with his music-training minions, Lou sits at a round table -- or sits, round, at a table -- and talks about Ikaika, because that's the key to getting screen time. "Ikaika doesn't know what he wants," Lou shares. The boy wants Malia, he wants to be a doctor, he wants to play doctor with Malia, he wants to wear another "Worst Guy" t-shirt. But he also wants to sing, and since that requires actually leaving the homeland once in a while, it poses a real quandary. "He came to the audition because his dad mentioned it on the radio," Lou points out. "He's still trying to figure out where it's at." Maybe, but I hear he's got two turntables and a microphone. Lou signals for the editors to roll credits, so viewers don't see the Jaws of Life prying him from his armchair.
The episode opens with exterior shots of the house, a split-level place with palm trees and flowers cropping up everywhere. The effect is very Golden Girls, but without the promise of seeing Blanche Dorothy, Rose and Sophia on another collision course with wackiness. The camera takes us inside. "There's times when it's really good, and times when people rub each other the wrong way," Ashley tells Ikaika -- but, enough about orgies. Ikaika wants to talk about his personal conflict, saying he misses home (no!) and hasn't had much fun out there in Orlando. "That's what sucks about it, I have no concrete emotions about it right now," Ikaika says, explaining the epic love-it-hate-it tug-of-war that's tearing up his heart. Ashley comments in the confessional that Ikaika seems to have an internal struggle going on, which would be true if "internal" meant "embarrassingly public." Ash says the struggle is even tougher for Ikaika because it hits him at unexpected times -- like, say, during dance practice, when he's on the phone with Malia, when she comes to visit, when he's sitting on his bed, when he's sitting in the studio rec room, when he's in the kitchen, when he's moving, or when he's inert. Ikaika cuts into my train of thought. "I want to make sure I'm doing it for the right reasons," he whines. "Everything I did was for myself...and my family." We learn that his family told him to do it for them, and the pressure weighs on Ikaika's mind. Ashley, on the other hand, has two reasons for pursuing this O-Town career: He loves music and wants to make a living at it, and wants the financial means to take care of his loved ones. "But dude, you can seriously come talk to me any time you ever feel anything," Ashley offers, tearing open Pandora's Box with his teeth and shaking it to make sure all the contents come out. "Thanks. I have to talk to SOMEbody," Ikaika condescends, "and you have a lot of insight for an eighteen-year-old." Ashley flips Ikaika off and tells him to go hump a llama.
It's the last rehearsal before the cast's vacation. This shocks my boyfriend Doug: "What the...?!?!? Their whole life is a vacation," he says, annoyed. We pause while I rewind and forcefeed him the credits, Stanley-Kubrick style, until Doug caves and understands that it really IS about passion, sacrifice and determination. Meanwhile, sultry Raymond has the guys doing sets of sit-ups and cheating their way through push-ups. "One, two, three..." Raymond counts aloud. "Who does everybody love? Me, me, me!" Later, the cast chats with Mini-Lou about their upcoming vacations. Ikaika is relieved his flight lasts ten hours because "I need time to study. I have three finals to take tomorrow." He's still a biology/pre-med major at the University of Hawaii, and Paul's amazed that Ikaika is so calm when he has yet to crack a book. "It makes it hard to study because the school thing is a different trip from this," Ikaika says. As he talks, Bryan Chan actually takes drumsticks and starts tapping gently on Ikaika's head, perhaps expecting it to make a hollow sound. Oddly, it doesn't.
The guys break into groups, then break into song. Doug breaks up laughing. They sound pretty lousy, and Mini-Lou stops and corrects their pitch. "Ikaika, who's your friend?" Mini-Lou asks. "The mike," grins Ikaika stupidly. In a sing-song tone, Mini-Lou confirms it: "Mr. Microphone is your friend," he says, pretending it's not a euphemism. By way of the stereo's "play" button, Mini-Lou strikes up the orchestra and orders the cast back into song. Trevor's clad in a killer leather jacket that would make him look studly if he weren't singing and dancing and basically cavorting like a Backstreet Boy. Paul moves like he's longing to hump someone or something, and gets his mouth up-close and personal with Mr. Microphone, much to Mini-Lou's giddy girlish glee. Mike looks bored. Nonetheless, Mini-Lou ends rehearsal with a compliment: "You've all progressed tremendously as individuals as well as singers. I look forward to the months ahead for the five who are gonna end up staying." As for the rest of you, don't let Lou hit you in the ass on the way out.
"I've never heard you talk to your dad once on the phone," Mike tells Ashley in front of the other guys, who are all listening raptly to Ashley's tale of parental neglect. Apparently, his mom Paula married the guy when Ashley was four, so he grew up calling his stepfather "Dad," and they've clashed when it comes to music careers. "He doesn't really know what I'm doing here," Ash says. Oh, pull the other one, Ashley -- your dad disapproves of this as a career option. I'd say he knows exactly what you're up to. Ashley clears things up by saying his father knows he's in Florida, but "he's just not real supportive as far as performing arts and stuff." It's been hard, Ash says, not to be able to share with his dad his love of performing. Later, while he chats with his mother on the Bat Phone, Ashley praises Paula for doing "such a job of balancing my feelings and my dad's feelings. It has been an ongoing struggle since I was literally, like, twelve." Dad's not upset, Paula tells her son, he's just struggling to accept this as Ashley's career. A band member boots up the computer and we hear the signature Windows jingle. Bill Gates cheers, "Eat shit, iBook! How's THAT for product placement?" Ashley shifts his attention back to his mother, who's spouting some bull about how when Ronald (Ash's stepfather) drummed for a band in the 1970s, the things he saw scared him. Of course they did -- it's a normal side-effect of being whacked out on mind-bending hallucinogens. Ashley agrees that because it was a drug-addled era, "he doesn't want me to make the same mistakes he did, and feels that in this position, I would." Nice to have faith in your child, but I don't think the peer-pressure in Orlando quite compares with the substance-riddled '70s-era band scene. Unless he's afraid Ashley will sing and dance onstage, because you know, all his roommates are doing it.
Say goodbye to Boy Meets World this Friday. I personally never said hello to the show, but I suppose it'll be bittersweet to watch Cory Savage disappear into oblivion just like his brother did after The Wonder Years.
Jabba oozes out of his stretch limo and pours himself into a rec-room armchair at the studio. He whips out eight silver folders, each one encasing a record contract. Someone, possibly Jacob, jokes that he never signs contracts. "Cool. No problem," Lou says. "We do it in blood, though." His feeble joke gets feigned laughter, so the editors scoot right to Ikaika's thoughts. If he makes it, he figures he'll make a decent amount of money from the deal so he can go home and marry Malia, and go back to school. "It's my new dream," he says. Lou then explains that each cast member must return with a signed contract. He wants contracts from all eight of them so that when the choice is made, they can quickly finalize five and shred three like the hopes and dreams of so many aspiring singers. Bryan Chan wigs out at the sheer commitment required. "You look at something like a contract, and you're like, 'Oh God, what am I getting into?' " Bryan says, adding that he has mixed emotions about it.
In the Man Van, Erik-Michael and Trevor pore over the contract, which promises a forty-thousand-dollar advance for the first O-Town album. Stupidly, it stipulates a one-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus for their seventh album. "Which we probably won't have," snickers Trevor, saving me the trouble. There's general excitement about the prospect of being flush with cash, and Trevor tells us through a confessional that "It's so amazing to open it up -- it's fifty pages thick, of just record contract." Bryan wants a lawyer to read it. Instead, the guys go to a restaurant, a great choice for a contract-reading room, and flip through the document a little more. A passing waitress dumps salsa on Bryan's, ruining it. "No matter," she says. "I've seen the show. You won't be needing that." At a payphone, a jubilant Ashley (we know he is happy because his cheeks are a shade rosier than usual) tells his mother he has the contract in hand, and that he's going to buy her a car as soon as possible. That's responsible money-management -- I can't wait for the tax man to quash those dreams, snatching a sizable chunk of the cash and taking the "win" out of "windfall."
The hot tub's bubblin' and Trevor's a-rubbin'...his ego. He's sitting in the outdoor spa with Jacob, luxuriating and singing bits of "All For Love" amid more contract chatter about their impending riches. Trevor laughs that everyone's going to fake-read it and then sign the thing anyway, so there's no point in consulting the parents. "I don't care what it says," grins Erik-Michael, who's ogling his half-naked, wet bandmates and wondering if he should go write a song about how tingly it makes him feel. Jacob laughs, and sounding a lot like Adam Sandler, he chortles, "I sign my life to you, Lou! Thank you!" Trevor just hopes everyone else clues him in if the contract's going to screw him over. "My dad's gonna be like, 'Fifty-thousand? That's all I gotta see. Trevor, sign the contract!' " he says, imitating his father. The group laughs appreciatively, newly secure in the knowledge that Trevor considers them smarter than an actual adult. Trev repeats how badly he yearns to be a member of O-Town. "If I've never been dedicated in my life, this is something I'll be dedicated to," he tells Jacob, as the bubbles churn. And as my stomach turns, Jacob tries to top that by waxing rhapsodic about his God-given gifts. I hope they're as drunk as they look. "I wanted a record contract by the time I was twenty-one. I'm nineteen, and I got one handed to me today. Thank you, God," Jacob says. Looking up from his workbench, where ABC inspired him to reenact David-vs-Goliath with figures from his Play-Doh Mop-Top Hair Shop toy set, God nods distractedly and doesn't tell Jacob that his gifts came from life's genetic lottery. Jacob mentions that it's a ten-year contract, and as North America picks its jaw off the floor, he admits it could be awesome or could screw them all for an entire decade. The cameraman backs away from Trevor and Jacob's splash-fest in the spa, weeping and realizing how ignorant the guys really are of Jabba and his cruel bounty-hunting ways. Han Solo? A top-notch third-tenor, or at least he was until he became a trendy carbonite wall decoration.
Late at night, Ikaika's confirming his travel plans with mom Lynette. He asks her to come as backup, in case Malia sees the cameras and flips out. "I didn't ever want to put her through an ordeal like that," Ikaika said. Ordeal? I guess her aversion stems from a painful memory -- maybe in childhood, she was savaged by a camcorder. "I don't want my decisions to start affecting her life," Ikaika whines. Too bad, friend: It's called couplehood, and you're already firmly entrenched in it.
The morning, some of the guys leave in the Man Van to catch their flights. At the Orlando airport, Bryan hugs Ashley and Mike, promising to think about them while they're apart. Mike in turn says he'll call them on Christmas Day. "See you in four days," Trevor says, leaving. All those farewells for a four-day separation? That's not a vacation, that's a detour. Mike says everyone's a little nervous about returning just to hear who has to turn around and leave again. As Ashley boards his flight to San Francisco, his voice-over says he's nervous about going home to have The Talk with his stepfather, but he's also a little excited because it's long overdue.
Jacob and Trevor are sitting at an airport café sipping coffee and chatting to a thin, bespectacled man, who remains unidentified but who clearly has been around the band. A camera person? Murray, of Bunim-Murray fame? It's a mystery. The Stranger asks if they expect the vibe in the house to change when the eight gets sliced to five. "It'll be sad for a while," Jacob says. "Bittersweet." He said the final band members will obviously be thrilled, but that things could get awkward if people feel a rejected singer wrongly got cut. "There could be a lot of rough feelings," Jacob muses. He singles out Ikaika, calling him "broken up" because he can't decide which life he truly wants. Trevor tries to chime in, but Jacob drowns him out and Trev reverts to staring into his coffee. If Ikaika makes the band and Jacob does too, then Jacob says he would "have a lot of words, because he's not even as half-hearted as I am." What he meant to say was, Ikaika's not even half as committed as Jacob, but he totally flubs his moment of depth and reflection. Backpedaling a bit, he admits Ikaika is talented and would be a good part of the group, but "I don't want someone on my tour who wants to go home all the time."
In Hawaii, Malia greets Ikaika at the airport and they kiss. His voice-over tells us everything always feels totally right when he's with Malia because of the bond they've built over the years. Mom Lynette and brother Kamuelo are there too, but he bids them a quick farewell because he's got to hit the University for his exams. "The whole doctor side of me is a whole other story. That's my ultimate goal," Ikaika says as we see him strutting across campus. But what a dumbass -- he shows up to the test without a calculator or a pencil. I know people who have anxiety nightmares just like that, although with less of Ikaika in them, but here a friendly administrator lends him those things and the day is saved. The testing-room door shuts, leaving him alone with the first question, which is worth 20 points (I peeked).
The only thing Arabian Nights is missing is Kazaam the Rapping Genie, that devilish scamp played to such great, unintentionally comedic effect by Shaquille O'Neal.
Bryan and Ashley arrive in San Francisco, and both get huge hugs from Bryan's mother and his baby niece Trisha. "I wish she didn't have to work so hard," Bryan says in confessional mode, eyes moistening a bit. "I think everyone wishes that for their mom." Ashley shakes their hands and heads off for his flight to Redding, Calif., half-skipping through the airport with a guitar-case in hand à la Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. He's confronting his stepfather, but it's OK -- he has confidence in confidence alone, besides which, you see, he has confidence in... him.
At Casa Chan, Bryan is passing pictures around his family circle. He actually shows his grandmother a picture of Lou, and she actually doesn't scream, run or vomit. Bryan talks a bit about his grandmother being a role model for him, but he almost cries when he mentions his father. "He's always supported me," Bryan says. You know, Bryan seems like a decent guy. I wonder which synapse misfired and impelled him to audition for a boy band.
Cut to a close-up on the Angel family mailbox. Ashley's parents, Ronald and Paula, wander around the backyard chatting as they wait for Ashley to arrive. They stand by a strange shed and talk, looking as though they're aiming for privacy but failing miserably since they're both wired to the hilt with microphones. "I just don't think this is the road (for him)," Ronald says, shaking his head. "He's capable of much more than just dancing in front of a camera." Finally a voice of reason! His gut tells him it's not a good thing -- and this comes without even seeing the show, or Lou, or even Mini-Lou. Paula, though, doesn't worry because she "has a lot of faith in him." Ronald says he can't feel the same way. The front door slams as Ashley and Shelli enter the house, and...
... We're transported to Hawaii, where it's 6:42 AM and Ikaika's dad is doing his morning radio show at KORL FM. He introduces his three sons -- Haku, Kamuelo and Ikaika, who's been "missing in action" and who says that the radio show is part of what he's missed the most. We learn entertaining people is in the Kahoano genes -- his older brother, Haku, is a lyricist and the young Kamuelo is "a musical genius," Ikaika says, claiming it's empowering to go home and be with people who are always looking out for him. Outside the station, the three brothers sit chatting about Ikaika's career. "Don't feel totally obligated," says Kamuelo, delivering his only line of the episode. Haku haikus: "We are three soldiers // vying for the family // it's obligation." Then, "If something happens // one of us falls, two are left // Family needs you." Ikaika, polishing his halo and fluffing his wings, says he'll probably make $165,000 and give it all away to family members, keeping none for himself because he doesn't need money. Um, that's one plan you might want to run past Malia. But Ikaika respects Haku and always listens to his phat syllabic poetry. Later, in the park, Ikaika and Malia are getting the Corleone family-first, do-what-I-say-or-else treatment from Mr. Kahoano, who reminds them what a great opportunity O-Town is. "Your younger brother said he'd do it for $25 and a couple of pineapples," Mr. Kahoano points out. Lou's jaw drops and he considers sending out new contracts, whereas Ikaika simply listens and gnaws thoughtfully on a stringy, weedy piece of foliage. "You're a representative not only of the family, but of all the people of Hawaii," Mr. Kahoano, the first and last Hawaiian Don, tells his son. "It's a tough thing we're asking you to do, but not that many things are easy in life." Malia, as usual, sits to Ikaika and broods, wondering when and why her boyfriend's family turned all Godfather on his ass. Ikaika sits quietly, thinking and chewing his cud.
Zooming to the opposite end of the pressure spectrum, Ashley finally sits down with stepfather Ronald to convince him that jiggling, wiggling and otherwise belittling himself on stage is in fact a respectable career. "I've looked for you to be approving of that side of my life, and you haven't been," Ashley says, as the camera treats us to his angelic senior photo and an old family picture. "I want to tell you everything." Ronald thinks he knows what's going on, and he highly, highly, highly disagrees with Ashley's choice to be in a band -- drug puns probably intended. "I personally believe the music industry is a very negative industry," Ronald says. "It'll chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat." Either Ronald's the only Angel family member who's done a background check on Lou's legal history, or he's an embittered old man who failed miserably in his 1970s attempt to rock out with a band. Or both. He tells Ashley to keep his career to himself because it's too painful to hear about it. "But you taught me to play the guitar," Ashley blubbers. "I love piano." That's exactly it, Ash -- you're using precisely none of those skills in your "music" career. In a confessional scene, Ashley is crying and talking about how his father just doesn't understand, and that he's always longed to please his dad but never succeeded in doing it. Ronald, for his part, disapproves of Ashley skipping out on school. "So you sign a record deal, that's fine. So you make immediate big fat money. So what? What about YOU?" Ronald asks, exasperated. He refutes Ashley's tearful claim that he's considered all that already. "I know my dad loves me, but it doesn't feel like it when he doesn't support me," Ashley sobs. "Like, I would never do that to, like, my son. If he was ever THAT in love with something, I couldn't be that cold." Ronald and his son have a silent face-off, as mom Paula tries not to chip in with an opinion or facial expression. She succeeds admirably. Finally, Dad tells Ashley he'll always love him, but won't ever approve. "If I turn on the television and see you on it, I'm going to turn it back off. It's too painful for me," Ronald says. Ashley is to keep his career outside the house and only talk to his mother about it. His head in his hands, Ashley cries. It reminds me of the Cat Stevens song Father and Son: "If they were right // I'd agree // but it's them they know, not me, now // there's a way // and I know // that I have to go away." That Stevens was one savvy Cat.
And for all we know, Ashley's still crying, but now it's probably because ABC cruelly denied us our right to see the episode. The teaser shows that, returning from vacation, one of the eight band members drops out immediately and doesn't even wait for the final-five announcement. I actually know who it is, and a couple other people out there do too if they read their TV-promotion blurbs. But my lips are sealed, at least until we figure out if we'll get to keep watching Lou try to Make the Band. Cross your fingers.