Previously on Making The Band: The New Year's Eve holiday weekend stalled the contract-finalization process, so Lou invited all six remaining guys to his special Millennium bash. And Ikaika? Well, he fled back to Hawaii. His brother, Haku, fancies himself a businessman and tried formally negotiating with Lou about Ikaika's flight plans. This montage omits the news that Ikaika had one more final exam to take, and instead makes it look like he's running away because he's a little wuss. "When I hear about the contract, that's when I'll be back," Ikaika asserts here for our benefit.
The moral of today's tale: Give up your passion for partying and sacrifice your identity in your determination to be a successful boy-band. This is a healthy message indeed.
The show opens with overhead shots of a dingy parking lot and a bunch of bland buildings -- such is Lou Pearlman's Orlando empire. The guys are in the studio rehearsing, and oh my God, Pearlman answered my prayers: It's a different song. They've traded synthesized idiocy for some semi-folksy guitar riffs, and Trevor's on the lead mike:
"Veronica's the song that's in my head
Veronica's the name I've often said
But her friends say she's too good for me
It's kinda like a West Side Story."
Originality be damned -- they've gone for a terrifying hybrid of Elvis Costello's "Veronica" and Santana/Wyclef Jean's "Maria, Maria." I can't wait for the third single. Eminem meets Bryan Adams, anyone? I'm game to hear Ashley Parker Angel rap his way through "The Summer of '69." For the dance, the group acts like it knows where to stand and how to move, but there's no choreography here. Trevor has his back to what would be the audience, and Mike's just standing there bopping aimlessly. Now, I love TyJuan, and everybody loves Raymond, but I have to wonder if they're truly qualified choreographers -- especially considering I once achieved greater success making a My Little Pony waltz gracefully with Rainbow Brite. Trevor interrupts me to share his newfound confidence, and his utter certainty that he's shown signs of improvement. In voice-over, Jacob tells us that since Paul's departure, Trevor's gone from discouraged and despondent to determined he'll make the final cut. "I know I can do it. I know I can. GOD, I know I can," Trevor says, eyes welling for the first time this episode but, of course, not the last. Stock in the maker of Kleenex soars.
Tensions run high during rehearsal, and not just because they've reverted to that "All For Love" nonsense. TyJuan is holding court, in control and definitely wearing a turban. The singing sounds rather good -- comparatively speaking, of course -- but the dancing lacks synchronicity and TyJuan calls them on it. "I did the same thing with y'all last week...and I don't like dealing with people who don't take it seriously," TyJuan tells them. "You wanna see me angry? Take this for granted." Erik-Michael's confessional scene tells us TyJuan is simply pointing out areas everyone knows need a lot of extra work. "We're just...slacking," he confesses, about three episodes after the rest of the world came to that same conclusion. As punishment, or maybe entertainment, TyJuan commands the kids to drop and do twenty-five pushups. Hey, Erik? You're not supposed to have your knees on the ground. The guys run through the dance again, and TyJuan acknowledges improvement. "I'm coming down hard like that because we've been doing this a lot, and I just broke it down for you as elementary as I could do it," TyJuan says. Hunger strikes, and half the gang starts moaning. "Crying that you're hungry isn't going to help," TyJuan points out. Jay says they're expected to have eaten and digested their food before rehearsal starts, which puts Trevor right on the defensive: "The progress of the day is that you get hungry three times a day," he practically yells. There's general bitching and bickering, ending with Mike likening this experience to being in kindergarten. Minus all the coloring, reading, and learning, of course.
Because Jay is a big player in this episode, I want to clarify his tie to older shows. Two episodes ago, he appeared out of nowhere to sit in the airport with Jacob and backstab Ikaika a bit. Last time, he appeared as Anonymous Flunkie in Glasses -- I'm harping on this because the show never fully explained his sudden arrival. He seems to be Trans Con's flunkie in charge of publicity. Now, moving on.
During lunch, Jay tells the guys that he's not too impressed with what he's seeing in rehearsals. This is the first time he's watched them since the auditions, and "the drive you all had when you got here, I'm not seeing." He vilifies the group for inviting people to the house and staying up late, then observes that when one person is singled out in the studio, they defend that individual as a group. Jay calls it "giving each other excuses." Mike, like the controversy-prone loose cannon he's never been, has reached his boiling point and unleashes a torrent of verbal bullets. "I'm bored with this dance!" he blurts out. Mike admits he was willing to stay, delay lunch and keep working, but says he's totally bored by the steps. Then he calls out Trans Con: "You say we're under the gun and this is part of the audition. Well, if this was still part of the audition, wouldn't Ikaika still be here?" Mike asks. He's got a point: It's hardly fair to turn up the pressure on the six guys who stuck around and let the runaway wussy escape scot-free. In confessional mode, Erik-Michael says -- with all the personality of a fingernail clipping -- "Why isn't that kid here?...We're all sacrificing a lot and it doesn't seem like Ikaika needs to sacrifice anything." Jay feebly explains to the gang that their actions are most important right now, and Ikaika's choices reflect on Ikaika alone, just as each other guy's behavior contributes to his own report card. Mike, visibly agitated, ought to be thankful that he's visible at all on a show that until now has chosen to lose him in the O-Town shuffle. He basically thinks Jay is too wiry to be filled with so much shit. "I'm the kind of guy that will confront you if I think you're not treating me the way I wanna be treated," Mike says in confessional. To Jay, he says all six remaining guys are working hard and no one's backing off at all. Tense drumbeats end the scene, sending us to commercial.
Memo to Millionaire: You're not a drama. Stop advertising yourself as such.
Ignoring recommendations that he stay away from people while they're eating, Jabba has slithered into the studio's rec room. He enquires about the upcoming party -- is everyone excited? Mid-chew, the guys break into a chorus of, "Yes, Oh GOD yes, yes!" Heart a-twitter, Lou whispers to Jay, "I'll have what they're having." Ashley informs us that Lou rented Planet Hollywood for the shindig, which these days is the only sure-fire way to get more than three people at a time into that restaurant. We learn the guys can keep the tuxes they will need and may bring dates. Ashley flies girlfriend Shelli to Orlando for the party, and Paul invites Carrah -- oh, no, wait, even though Paul spent a month working with the group and just flew the coop a few days ago, he wasn't invited to stay on and celebrate one last time with his castmates. Never mind that without Paul's shady morals and sharp-featured cross-eyed cockiness, the first six episodes would've had anorexic plots. I guess Lou won't be your father figure if you stop letting him be your daddy.
Jacob is standing on the street, presumably outside a restaurant. Having been turned down by all the Herizon lasses and 1-900-EZ-DATES, he's calling a girl he met two weeks before moving to Orlando. Her name's Thania, she's apparently a model; we see her picture in a full-page magazine advertisement, and Jacob tells us she's gorgeous. It's true that without the airbrush and its loving caress, Thania is still remarkable -- but only in the sense that, incredibly, she managed to duplicate the fetching traits of actress Rebecca Gayheart -- big, wide-set eyes and long, thick, curly hair -- and turn them into the embodiment of plain. "I like your sister, but I want you to come," Jacob says, puzzling me. "This is going to be insane." He convinces the apparently hesitant Thania to bring her sister, then ends the call and walks triumphantly off-camera.
Back at the house, Jacob is rearranging furniture as Mike helpfully stands by and watches, ready with cat-like reflexes in the event of a couch-shifting catastrophe. Cori and Herizon Heather make lame and unobtrusive appearances here. Jacob explains he's obsessed with making the house look as splendid as possible, and Mike teases him by telling the ladies Jacob's never cleaned anything and yet suddenly, he's going so far as to do dishes. "Yah...well I'll probably be sleeping on this couch," Jacob says. "Not alone," Mike grins. "Yes, alone...We're not like that," Jacob brats, hiding his squirming trousers. "Well, strange things happen when you're married," Mike says, then toddles off with the girls in tow to sniff more Wite-Out and eat paste. Jacob -- like the rest of us -- is left clueless and confused.
Thania arrives the morning, joined by her sister Razaana, a fiery wild-haired redhead. They're both nice looking; nothing special, which would be irrelevant if I thought that in their two-week pre-Orlando togetherness, Jacob cared a whit about meeting their inner selves. Bryan hugs them both and says, "I feel like I know you already," which is basically the same thing anybody else said when Paul and Ashley and Ikaika brought their girlfriends home. Are they passing around a manual? In confessional mode, Jacob points out that "all of us guys know if we don't have a girlfriend now, it's going to be hard to find a girlfriend who likes us for not what we are, but who we are." What Jacob doesn't realize is, he'll have a tough time finding that no matter what he does -- whether he's famous or peddling Whoppers at Burger King. Sitting in one of the bedrooms, Thania and her two thick braids are trying to "study." Speaking of Whoppers, Jacob is sitting on his bed staring openly at Thania while she rifles through a pile of papers in her lap. She jokes with Jacob that he's a distraction, and they make small talk as Jacob's voice-over lauds his newfound connection with Pippi Longstocking over there. Apparently, he knows she's not just a camera whore because the Pipster has a career that puts her in front of the lens and in the spotlight on her own merits. Thus, Jacob knows she "likes me for me and not for what I'm doing." We then hear Jacob telling her, "There's nobody like me, gimme a break. There's nobody like me." Instead of thanking God for that, Pippi just rolls her eyes again and proclaims Jacob to be "so cocky." He grins. "Yeah? I'll show you 'cocky,' baby," Jacob thinks.
It's New Year's Eve, and Ashley's in the shower covered in foam. That makes two shower shots of Ashley since the series started, versus zero for anyone else. Mind you, I'm not complaining. We see Trevor in his underwear -- a little trick he must've learned from Paul -- and then Jacob and Mike clad in towels and laughing. The doorbell rings, and Herizon Heather arrives to accompany Mike to the millennium party. Ah, Cori. Dissed again. Heather looks really nice, and I almost forgive her error of judgment where Paul was concerned.
Jay gathers the group in the living room and starts in on the lecture. Tonight is O-Town's first public appearance, and Jay wants the gang to keep a low profile, avoid the cameras and just generally behave. "Are we supposed to be professional and low-key, or are we supposed to have a good time?" wonders Mike in the confessional. Ashley says the group needs to trust Jay, who's been in the business "a long time" and is "only going to do things that are positive for the group." Jay cautions the guys against underage drinking, or of-age overindulgence. Ranger Marc, his thinning hair slicked back, stands by futilely as Jay usurps the coveted Party Pooper mantle. Sparing no expense -- or rather, sparingly and at no expense -- Trans Con shuttles the guys to Planet Hollywood in their regular automobile. This is the last Man Van trip of the twentieth century, a historic moment to which I and the show's six other viewers bear weepy witness. "Remember how much people are giving up for you," Jay cautions one last time.
Pouring out of the car, the guys meander into Planet Hollywood as Jay instructs them to walk with guys on the left, dates on the right. Jacob ignores that, or shows blatant signs of the age-old "which one is left?" struggle. Earning my lifelong respect, a man in the crowd shouts, "Don't fool yourselves, you guys aren't that important!" Jacob's right ear -- or is that left? Dang -- is apparently the deafer one, as he takes this time to note, "Walking down the red carpet, with all the fans screaming and trying to take pictures, is something that you only see on TV." Inside, Trevor proclaims that this is the best moment of his young life, and Ashley gushes something similarly effusive. Jacob's voice-over tells us it's a star-studded event in which all the celebrities treated them as equals. But, despairing of the idea of appearing on the TGIF lineup, no one signed the requisite release forms and therefore all the footage we see is carefully filmed to leave out anyone but the six lads and their dates. Erik-Michael chokes out one of his trademark ineloquent tidbits, and here it is verbatim: "Talking to people I never even thought I talked to, like Jennifer Love Hewitt." Two words, Love: Rock Bottom. As we see them all eating, drinking and being merry, Erik-Michael confesses he feels sorry for Ikaika, who's missing "the best night of our lives."
The countdown begins. "It's New Year's, it's the Millennium...forget about it. I'm going nuts," Mike says emphatically to the camera. Half of them are underage, yet they all seem to be sipping champagne. Trevor looks about to burst out of his white tuxedo (note to Lou: not the best way to keep him inconspicuous) as he reels off the last few numbers. At the witching hour, everyone hugs and toasts each other, general pandemonium ensues, and inexplicably Erik-Michael and Trevor end up on a conveniently placed stage. Hands up, they're wiggling, Will-Smith-jiggy-style, and Jacob and Mike join them in unabashed reveling. Clearly, the logical step has to be stage-diving, which Jacob admits in confessional "probably wasn't the way to maintain low-key [sic] throughout the night." Jacob backs up for a running start and leaps into the crowd. I assume someone catches him; I assume Thania is trying to sex up someone, anyone, else. Trevor is , falling backward pathetically atop the front row and getting caught by the crotch. Mike is last and basically just tips off the end of the stage. "I've never stage-dived, so I was into the stage-diving, but of course then I catch Jay's attention and I'm like, 'Ooh, low-key, out of the limelight, there's cameras everywhere,'" Mike recalls in the confessional. Jay approaches Lou and blows the whistle. "We're leaving, we gotta go, they broke all the rules tonight," he tells Lou. The big man is shocked to hear this, so obviously their public display wasn't too widely noticed, unless Lou's minions forgot to heave their corpulent master within convenient policing distance. Jay forges ahead. "For a public appearance, yes, really bad," Jay states, promptly meandering off to round up those evil, wicked, naughty boys. Confusion reigns, as none of the guys understand why they're being asked to leave and their dates aren't sure what's happening. "This is, like, the greatest night ever. We cannot leave at one o'clock. That's stupid," Trevor tells the camera, impassioned and near tears. He tries reasoning with Jay, but to no avail, and Mike closes out the segment in confessional: "We are SO in trouble right now."
Ugh. This show sometimes has the most tedious sponsors. Sears is trying to sell me appliances, and I'm dozing off on the couch.
Jay is bickering with Trevor: "I don't tell you how to sing, I don't tell you how to dress. Don't argue with me about my job." He tries to explain how the gang needs to pay attention to his orders, and Trevor tries to get a word in during the tirade but never succeeds. "You exposed yourselves tonight when I asked you not to," Jay says, waving off Trevor's feeble apologies. "It's not about sorry. It's done...You did it." Ashley, in the confessional, interjects that everyone's mad at Jay for what they perceive as a massive overreaction. Oozing immaturity, Trevor spits at Jay, "Then yell at everyone else for dancing on the stage!" Erik-Michael's private take is that Jay "forgets that we are still young, and full of energy, and wanting to go crazy."
Man Van 2000 is a grim place filled with scowling people. "I don't think you have any room to talk," Jay tells Mike, who's obviously been mouthing off again. Everyone stares mutely and mulishly out the windows. "I think you guys had a really bad night, actually," Jay says, pushing the envelope and then kicking it off a cliff for good measure. "A really bad night." Ashley retorts, "You think?" so Jay can retort, "Yeah!" Mike thinks, "Asshole." Jay thinks, "I know you are, but what am I?" Jacob just thinks, which is a vast improvement over actually opening his mouth.
Time for another fireside chat. Jay gathers the troops in the living room and lays into them as Ranger Marc stoically stands by, ready to pipe up at any moment. "Do you trust me?...Did we ask you not to do things? Did you tell us we were wrong? Did you do things we asked you not to do?" Jay badgers them. Helpfully, Ranger Marc notes, "Dancing on the stage was not cool. Not cool." Jay complains that, after spending so much time setting goals for the night, no one met any of them. "What else is new?" sighs Ranger Marc, an old hand at this House Bitch gig. , Jay lays into them for acting like the stars they blatantly aren't. Irritated, Trevor defends their actions by reminding Jay it happened right after midnight, when the rest of the world and probably all the bigger celebrities in the room were also going a little nuts. And, let's face it, all the camera-wielders were watching more famous faces and not checking out the little posse of six from Lou Pearlman's studio. Loosening his grip on reality, Jay puts a scenario to Trevor: If the band wins a VMA (a music award, I assume) and goes out to celebrate, gets drunk and does or says something stupid that hits the tabloids, they'll damn well need Jay and the Trans Con press people. "Tonight it wasn't even that," Jay says. "It was just New Year's." Trevor is incredulous. "JUST New Year's? Think about what you're saying." Has he not done this before? The white tux might've had symbolism after all -- Trev's acting like a New Year's Eve virgin who just popped the midnight cherry and then got busted by his parents for breaking curfew.
Jay tries involving other guys in the debate, but Trevor keeps trucking. "I was Trevor Penick tonight. T-R-E-V-O-R. I was Trevor." Softly, the Ranger says, "You guys cannot be yourselves at this point," which shocks Mike. Jacob cradles his head in his hands, and everyone is silent as Trevor and occasionally Mike speak their minds. Jay tells them he's perturbed, because six people he likes and knows well, and thinks are talented, acted stupid and rude. "I liked the T-R-E-V-O-R I saw until tonight, when I said 'Trevor, you have to go,' and you thought you knew better than I." Later, after the first meeting has dissolved, Trevor makes one final plea. He says he's sure no one "on the outside" thought ill of them after the night's events. "I saw Trevor start to argue, I saw Jay get mad and I walked away," Jacob says in voice-over. Jay tells Ashley and Trevor that he wants the guys to think of five words they want associated with their image as a band, then think of five more words that describe the impression they left on people that night. "Those are two totally different things, Jay," Trevor says, exasperated. "Exactly," Jay nods sagely. Oh, Jay, you slayer.
Outside, Jacob pouts fiercely. "I am not of that mentality," Jacob says self-righteously to Ranger Marc. Jacob complains he's wrongly being tarred with the same brush as rabble-rousers like Trevor and Mike. Impatiently, Marc urges Jacob to speak his mind. "We're a family, we're friends. You have an opinion, speak your opinion," he says, completely contravening the whole lose-your-identity message from the fireside lecture. Jacob yells that they fucked up (yeah, it was bleeped), but he's resentful because where other guys threw Jay's advice back in his face, Jacob feels he didn't. I check my dictionary to see if "Jacob" is really spelled "Hypocrite," since he was in fact the first to take a flying leap off the stage. Jacob claims he's being judged by the actions of other band members who say things that don't necessarily reflect his feelings. "So CHANGE it, J!" says an exasperated Marc. Jacob yells that he doesn't know how, that he can't speak until he catches up with the fast pace at which things are changing, and figures out what everything means. "Every day is moving so quick, I don't have time to think through how I'm going to change eight people." He's been solo since age five, Jacob brags, and here he's had only one month to grow accustomed to his unit -- I mean, to being part of a unit. "First, stop saying 'I.' You're a group, you're a one, you dance the same and sing the same," Marc says with exaggerated hand gestures. "This is not a joke, this is your one chance at the big time." Jacob repeats him. Marc encourages Jacob to stand up and change things instead of accepting this supposed fate of being wrongly represented by the more vocal guys. "You said speak, I said I can't...YET. I have not figured it out YET," Jacob rants. "I will take the reins and I will lead this group. I will not trust my career in four other people's hands if they don't feel the same way. I will bring them to whatever level I am at." Arrogant little fuck. Marc isn't through, whipping out a Zippo to really light the kindling piled under Jacob's ass. "You are not a star," Marc says. "You are not a star. You're a lab rat." Jacob counters, "Yet. I am not a star...YET." Marc: "But you're a lab rat right now. Think about it." The orchestra breaks into Confrontation in C-Minor as the Ranger storms off, leaving Jacob alone to nurse his fiery behind, stew over their altercation and finally come to grips with the reason they don't get dinner without first completing a complex maze.
The morning, a friend from Trans Con called Paul Russo chats with the semi-chagrined boys from O-Town. He's laughing about the stage-diving debacle, and Jacob even grins as he admits it pissed off Jay pretty royally. New Paul points out a write-up in the Orlando Sentinel, the local newspaper, which mocks the guys' appearance. "It said that O-Town were the most inconspicuous people [sic], and they like ran in," New Paul paraphrases. The paper also ran photos and ranked certain bits of the big affair. Jacob's confessional appearance tells us O-Town won "Silliest Celebrity Entrance." He says, "The very first time we were in the paper, it was to mock us." I think that's a pretty fair omen. "Wait until you get to Europe, man, they say the stupidest things," Paul offers by way of comfort, but the guys are too amused to be offended by the article and too idiotic to be bothered by such distressing hyper-nationalism. Jacob points out to the gang that O-Town "hasn't even done anything and we're already getting clowned." Foreshadowing plops down on my couch, tired from doing two cartwheels during this segment.
All six guys gather around the dining-room table to discuss the night. Jacob encourages total honesty, saying that thus far they've privately and individually shared important things with Jay and Marc, but have held back in front of the other guys. "We're good individuals, we suck together," Jacob concludes. "We're not even close to where we should be or where they expect us to be." Bryan makes a crack about how he might not have been stage-diving, but he certainly cheered the guys that did. "One positive thing out of this whole situation is everyone's being open and honest and communicating," Bryan says. "For everybody in the house, we've all gotten a bond, all become closer." After some agreement that they need better communication to come together as a group, Jacob repeats their findings: "We should never be seen in public arguing, and we should never ever speak our own personal minds..." "...without consulting the group," Bryan finishes for Jacob. Behind a one-way mirror, psychology students high-five each other and celebrate the wicked-cool project on Groupthink that's sure to net them an A-plus in Psych 436. Desperate for the last word, Jacob adds, "We've got to be a lot stronger and a lot tighter than we were or else this is going to fall apart."
We hear a phone ring, then Bryan Chan speaks, leaving a message for Ikaika that begs him to please return the call. A voice-over from Bryan makes sure we're aware of the daily failed attempts to reach Ikaika since he fled back to the islands. Jacob reasserts his irritation that Ikaika might not return before the final cut is made, prompting Bryan to ask if Jacob thinks their Hawaiian bandmate will ever come back. Jacob lays it out: After leaving without much warning, Ikaika has failed to contact anyone at the house or at Trans Con. It smacks of "lack of interest, lack of loyalty" to Jacob, who believes that regardless of talent, Ikaika's behavior should push him out of the final five. Ikaika misses out on the bonding, and it's aggravating everyone. "He's doing it to himself," Jacob says, walking away.
time: The longer Ikaika stays away, the less anyone wants him to return; plus, the guys record the first single, "All For Love." Hallelujah. Rumor has it that June 23 -- one episode away -- is the big unveiling of the Final Five.