To promote this very special episode, ABC threw a silly-looking beach party and ran a sweepstakes to give away seven Disney cruises, because yes, Disney made all this possible. In a culture where reality-based shows equal sure-fire ratings wins, Disney found a way to produce the format's only unwatched program. Well done. It's an accomplishment worth celebrating, so we're treated to a shirtless Ikaika between episodes, followed by a hat-and-shades clad Trevor teaching a posse of girls the "All For Love" dance. The other seven -- Paul included -- help out, ostensibly because it's the last time they'll all do press together. And we thought we'd never see his sharp nose on ABC again.
Somewhere in the monstrous mounds of sliced-and-diced footage: Ashley's girlfriend Shelli, speaking through a streak of whore-red lipstick, tells the camera she'll stand by him no matter what happens. "I'm willing to like see him through this totally," Shelli insists poetically. They kiss and act like they're in love. But it's been thirty seconds, so it's Jacob's turn for screen time, and we're treated to a reminder that he feels it's a risk to put his career in Ikaika's hands. At the dinner table during a house meeting, Trevor says it's unfair for Ikaika to take the spot of one of the six who didn't fly the coop for a week. Ikaika rails on them for not understanding the situation on his level, and threatens to throw down with Jacob.
Paul's still in the credits. I bet he doesn't make the final five.
Frenetic guitar chords underscore the hostility as Jacob and Ikaika stare daggers at one another. Lou exhibits his signature clairvoyance: "We've still got tension here," he observes. "That tension's gotta be broken." Ashley cracks his knuckles, Mike refuses to look up, and Erik-Michael plucks at a stray thread on the couch. His mouth, pursed in a substantial pout, looks so blindingly bulbous that the top lip practically clogs his nostrils. Ranger Marc reaches out and squeezes Ikaika's shoulder, hoping to calm him. Lou addresses the hot-headed Hawaiian, assuring him Jacob doesn't really want to fight. "He just wants you to do what you say you'll do," Lou tells Ikaika. "There's no future in fighting." Repeating that for good measure and thinking back to all that ugly legal wrangling with the other boy-bands, Lou crosses his fingers behind his back and pastes a smile on his face, then promises the seven guys they can trust him. His chins look very sincere. In the confessional, Jacob rips into Ikaika: "I could not believe Ikaika was treating this like a high-school classroom in front of Lou Pearlman," he gasps. Note his blatant failure to share with Lou the little threat to quit the band if Ikaika gets picked. He's so wholly a chicken that if we cut Jacob's head off, he'd still be able to run around the studio. And hey, it might improve his songwriting.
Keeping his temper in check, Lou flatly states that no one can get up and leave unless they promise to forgive, forget, and move on with their lives having learned something from the experience. "Remember my motto," Lou begins, hiding So You Need A Mantra? somewhere between his thirteenth and thirtieth stomach rolls. "You make a lot of mistakes in life, but never make the same ones twice." Excuse me, but I count two lawsuits filed against Lou by pissed-off boy-bands. Lou's sick of hearing about Jacob and Ikaika's juvenile sparring, so he says he's happy to keep talking about it if need be, but if they're finished, then everyone must stop harping on the issue. Ikaika nods, speechless without some sort of prompting from his family. At Lou's request, he repeats the head gesture and rises, hugging Jacob. Bryan pipes up in voice-over: "I have a lot of respect for Lou, to see him come out there and be so calm and so fair about the situation when he had seven guys that were just very uptight, on-edge and emotions running so high." Bryan thinks Lou did a splendid job keeping the peace; I say he excels at speaking without really saying a thing.
Ikaika escorts Lou outside, and the big man sugarcoats things one last time. "Teamwork is what it's about," he tells Ikaika. "These guys jumped in a little quicker, that's all." The screen splits and we see the remaining six nuking some food, patiently listening to Jacob the Ringleader violating the Pearlman Pact of silence. "I was willing to forget what he did in the past, but everything he said tonight proves that it's just not going to change," Jacob says. "The mentality is still the same." He fails to recognize the double standard, but we'll forgive him -- the air's pretty thin atop Jacob's lofty pedestal, and it's obviously addling his brain. I'd love to shove him hard back to Earth. Jay chips in that the camaraderie between everyone else in the house only came after hard work and commitment. Appalled that anyone would dare challenge him, Jacob rebuts, "But that wasn't an attitude we had to fix. Everyone was trying." As no one genuflected properly the first three times, Jacob again informs us he's been a solo act since age five. Based on his performance with Thania, a wooing display as smooth as a gravel cocktail, Jacob will be flying solo on several levels for years to come. To the camera, he points out he's scared to place his career in the hands of a group where the actions of one -- like, say, chronic egocentrism? -- can color the future of all five. "It will result in a physical brawl," Jacob says, blowing a gust of hot air in the direction of an unimpressed Jay. "My livelihood, my love, my desire, my dreams, everything -- I'm not sharing it with somebody like that." Trevor guzzles a dark cola, poured into a glass to hide the fact that its mystery maker, unlike Pepsi, doesn't sponsor this show. In confessional Trevor admits he's proud that Jacob spoke up so bluntly. "He's the only person who would have done it that way, and we were all counting on him to do it," Trevor says. In the distant background, Bryan Chan nibbles a -- well, really, who cares? He could've done three nude back-flips into the hot tub and bagged the entire Trans Con staff, and the producers would still deem him irrelevant.
Ashley and Erik-Michael gather later in Jacob and Trevor's bedroom. Trying to become the group's spiritual core, Erik's lips point out that it's all predestined -- he's here because he's supposed to be there, and the same goes for everyone else in the room. "Ikaika's in because they see what he has, they see his potential," Hot Lips preaches to the group. "If they can teach him to have the things he's lacking in [sic], then that's all I can ask for." That, and a tube of Chapstick a mile wide. Privately, Erik-Michael tells the camera he's an opinionated and steadfast guy, but on this occasion he understands the importance of surrendering to Lou's wisdom. "I trust Lou," Ashley says. "I think he was saying, 'Look what I've done, I think I know what I'm doing.'" A picture of breathy enthusiasm, Ashley admits he's dying to be in the spotlight currently enjoyed by Lou's other projects. Ikaika strolls morosely outside the house, alone, a sheltered kid on the mainland who's nevertheless marooned on his own psychological island. That, or he's bored.
Everyone frantically piles into the Man Van the morning, making their final trip to the studio as a posse of seven. Trevor, Jacob and Ikaika dance for the other four and TyJuan, and while the first two are deeply involved in the steps, Ikaika is a beat behind. He's staring at himself in the mirror, trying to discern whether he's synchronized and acing the moves, or badly fumbling them. TyJuan stops the tape. "There's a lot of errors in that piece," he says vaguely. Mike privately says Ikaika didn't know any new dance steps at all when the day began -- and we see Ikaika looking confused and lost -- but that with his help and aid from TyJuan and Trevor, Ikaika has picked it up as though he never missed six days. We see Ikaika working with Jacob, practicing a punch-kick-step dance combo that looks a lot like kickboxing. It's sure to sweep the nation. As the spectacle continues, adherence to teamwork prevents either one from clocking the other in the noggin. Jacob admits he changed his mind about Ikaika -- but not because of Lou, or because he's frightened and backing out of his bold and brutally stupid ultimatum. Nothing like that. "I'm remembering I gave this process to God, saying, 'I asked for your hand to be in this, and I trust you to put me with the right group,'" Jacob says, the light of heaven shining upon him. No, wait, that's his Nice-n-Easy bottle-blond afro highlights. "If Ikaika's in this group, it's because God wants him there and I'm not going to take that from him." I'm confused. If he believes in one omnipotent God, should Jacob constantly be deifying himself? I should think not. They finish the dance-boxing routine and TyJuan praises the Ikaika/Jacob duo. "One couple's got it," TyJuan says. "Keep working on it." The special pair, basking in the afterglow of co-operation, exchanges a high-five. Rehearsal ends, and everyone mills around shaking hands and smacking backs. Incongruously, we see Erik wash his head in the studio's sink, probably unable to believe the fromage he's just been force-fed. His shirt's on backward, with the tag sticking straight out in plain view. Ikaika grins at everyone, then squeezes into the Man Van a less pouty boy than when the day began.
At the house, the guys blare a new song on the stereo. It's a slow love ballad -- "Baby, I can / Baby, I could / Baby, I would" -- that Mike claims the entire band adores. It's written by Diane Warren, who penned songs for Celine Dion ("Because You Loved Me"), Brandy ("Have You Ever"), Toni Braxton ("Unbreak My Heart"), LeAnn Rimes/Trisha Yearwood ("How Do I Live") and several for Michael Bolton, Cher, Aaron Neville and Starship. In sum, she's a multiple offender. Mike says that "everyone's face lights up when they start singing it." Trevor delivers a typically impassioned, watery-eyed confessional speech about how he can hear 'NSync singing that particular tune. "But 'NSync isn't gong to sing it. We're going to sing it," Trevor boasts, flashing a smile to shame the Cheshire Cat. The song sounds terrible because none of them nails the harmony, but it ends on a pretty chord just in time for Lou's arrival. Waddling into the dining room, Lou confirms the inevitable: Contracts are finalized, the cut is coming. Trevor stares blankly at Lou, as though he never knew this day would arrive. Mike runs a hand over his mostly bald cranium, and everyone falls silent, shell-shocked. "Tuesday night you guys will bond a little bit, then Wednesday the Five will stay, and the other two will head back," Lou says. Someone asks when those two will sign their solo deals. "Uh, Thursday," Lou quips, missing a beat and narrowly escaping skipping a few more. The gang laughs, but in private, Trevor needs to agonize a tad longer. "If I don't make the group, it'd be so hard to turn on the radio and hear it, knowing I was this close to that being me," Trevor says emphatically, his voice catching in his throat. To the group, Lou affirms his pride in their performance in the recording studio, and says regardless of what happens, all seven should take that with them as a pleasant memory and an impressive achievement. Instead, Trevor points out in voice-over that the entire time they've been singing the past few days, everyone's been scanning the room and remembering two people are about to get the boot. "You guys control your own destiny," Lou lies. "I just help guide you there." Sure, with a heavy hand and an iron-clad contract, a legal minefield waiting for the first misstep to trigger the traps. Trevor again frets that it's all just so hard, and life is so un-cool and unfair. He throws back his head, rolling it on his shoulders, and basks in the sweet torture of his life. Trevor needs to change the record, because that one's broken.
My VCR failed me, but a friend came through with a backup tape. She thoughtfully bleeped out this set of commercials, but I so desperately need a break that I hit pause and claim two minutes for Miller Time.
Welcome back to "The Nerds Go Shopping." In today's installment, our intrepid tribe of seven braves the aisles of the Sam's Club bulk-buying superstore in a neighborhood near them. See as they fall prey to food vendors! ("Oooh, chicken-breast patties!" coos Ashley.) Watch as they sample the wares of a wily aproned worker wielding suspicious salads! ("My mom would like this!" raves Ashley. "MY mom would like this," stresses Bryan.) Feel the flames of the peppers singing young Ashley's angelic tongue! ("Ow," Ashley whines.) Groan as the segment never ends! Actually, I'd spare you the rest, but I can't resist because it's so dorky and pointless and yet amusing. Sampling a hot popper (cheese stuffed into a breaded jalopeno pepper), Ashley panics when the steam and spice combine to scorch his mouth. Bryan teases that he won't be able to sing. "What a stupid thing to burn my tongue on that," seethes Ashley in despair. He roams the store seeking a water fountain, panicking when it doesn't ease his suffering. "I don't think it's, like, third-degree or anything," a worried Ash tells Bryan, who's trying desperately to keep a straight face. "But I've never burnt my tongue that bad." Bryan pumps him a cup of soft-serve yogurt and as they stand in front of a C***-Cola machine, Ashley revels in the cooling effect of frozen dairy treats. "Aaaah," he says, expressively. Ikaika completely cracks up, staring at Ashley and guffawing with impressive abandon.
His tongue having made a brave recovery, Ashley's now at home, mired in an intense conversation with Shelli, and is wishing he'd played the "can't talk now, my mouth's afire" card to avoid it all. "I feel like you've been putting me, like, second now, when I've always been first," Shelli whines to a patient Ashley. He calmly apologizes, sounds amazingly sincere, and professes his complete love for her. Ah, but to the camera he admits, "I'm starting to understand why people say long-distance relationships are hard." At this point, Shelli may wish she'd left him with a kinder, gentler image than the Glamour Shot of her in full grrrowling sultry snarl and a leopard-print shirt. Sharpening her tigress's claws, Shelli implores Ashley to imagine what might happen if all this fame, fortune and fickle attention suddenly blow up in his face, and he finds himself without her there to support him. "We end up in an argument every time we talk," Ashley tells us. The screen splits, and it's a bizarre juxtaposition: Shelli's lecturing Ashley on the thoughtlessness of discarding the people who helped him reach these new heights, and the other guys are giggling and laughing and trying to eavesdrop. Mike's playing with a replica of the Chrysler Building, which to this point has decorated the dining room shelves with its sharp phallic splendor. Where's the Washington Monument? In the bathroom? In Paul's old bed? Jacob exchanges a grin with an off-camera Ashley, who occasionally waves the phone around while Shelli is mid-rant. Ashley can't believe what he's hearing, but Shelli's adamant -- she feels like she's disappearing from his mind and his life, as though he's not looking her way any more. Shelli, wishing evolution had given tigers an opposable thumb, feels all control slipping from her scrambling paws. "I know this is wrong or whatever," Shelli weeps, "but I've been praying you don't get this. I can't stand being so far away from you." She scratches, she scratches...She fails to break skin, though, because Ashley is unmoved. In confessional, a calm Ashley says he's made a critical life decision by even moving to Orlando, and he feels impelled to pursue his dream career. One point for the Angel, zero for his Amazonian wildcat.
Suddenly, Ikaika cares. "When I see Ashley and Shelli, I see a guy who knows what he wants, and I see a girl who's afraid to lose her man," he tells the camera. He acts like he and Malia are shining examples of healthy long-distance commitment, conveniently ignoring the obsessive four-hour nightly phone calls, the string of creepy machine messages and the fact that he flees home at the drop of a contract. "It takes a while to get used to it," Ikaika explains. "You're with someone all the time and all of a sudden -- BAM! You're not. Like, whoa, it's hard." Like, dude, totally! Clearly, the logical thing to do here is make out with a photograph of Malia, and so Ikaika cleverly obliges. "Every time I look at you, you're putting those things up to your lips," Bryan groans, flopping back onto his pillow and imaging the bevy of tastier morsels he could put there instead. Ikaika is too fixated on his role-model status to care. "Ash is glad I'm here," he says smugly. Perhaps he wasn't listening last week when Ashley expressed blatant doubts about whether Ikaika is a positive addition to the crew. Creeping into Ikaika's room and feigning interest in Malia, Ashley lamely asks about how she's coping and then steers the subject to more personal matters. "Like if you make it, like, um, are you gonna, like, move her here?" he casually asks. Ikaika shakes his head. To the camera Ashley admits he's not sure he's ready to take that step with Shelli. Meanwhile, Ikaika tells Ashley he'd love to have Malia living in Orlando, but says she'd refuse to do it. For Ashley, "It's too soon to really know." They tap fists. It's a manly moment.
Jabba invites his mini-self and TyJuan into his lair, oozing into a chair and imploring them to tell him what they've seen. That way, Jabba bases this important decision -- one that changes seven vulnerable lives -- on a passel of hints, feelings, second-hand information and of course, aesthetic favoritism. The critical thing to note here is TyJuan's hair. Pushed up with a giant black headband, it looks like a tall bouquet of darkened cheese doodles. "Has anyone dramatically improved?" Lou asks, uninterested. Mini-Lou throws Trevor's name out there, and the producers cut to a Lou confessional in which the Con chief -- sorry, that's Trans Con chief -- says the opinion of Mini-Lou and the choreographers confirmed the conclusions he'd already sensed. "I was happy no matter which five it would've been," Lou says. "I signed on for a five-person group, and five guys it must be." Six shalt thou not pick, neither shalt thou pick four, excepting that thou then proceeds to five. Seven is right out. (Just so we're clear on the math.)
Marc Piacenza, O-Town Ranger, is despondent. His whole family's going to see this show, this document of what a servile lackey he's become in Lou's care -- although if you believe him, he's actually upset about making the cut. He'll lose two friends tonight, Marc emotes to the camera, and sending them packing is going to be a tough task to swallow. Inside the studio, we see TyJuan taking pictures of the gang together -- seven guys, one Jay and a Ranger. The nine pose in a pyramid, cheerleader-style. Truly frightening. TyJuan restates the fun he had working with all seven guys, and encourages the two spurned singers to keep pursuing their dreams. "Once you make the five, do not think you can come here for one minute and think, 'I've made it,' and don't think you can't be replaced," TyJuan warns. I smell a plotline. "Shake tonight off and come in ready tomorrow," he says. We see Marc sitting alone outside on a bench; he then stares soulfully into the lens. "They're a great bunch of kids, they worked hard, and they all deserve it," Marc says. "Well, except for those times I yelled at all of them for staying out late, for slacking at rehearsal, for flirting with floozies, for blatantly disregarding the rules, and for being insipid and arrogant little goons." But that went without saying.
With Marc at the helm and Bryan riding Shotgun, the Man Van is an emotional roller-coaster in which the Grim Reaper is riding Bitch. Wraparound Terminator-style shades hide Bryan's eyes. "Sunny out, isn't it?" teases Marc. Smiling ruefully, Bryan predicts he'll wear sunglasses the rest of the day, anticipating a tide of tears. "I refuse to let people know how emotional I am today," Bryan says, as if the dark glasses and the videotape won't be proof enough. Confessing to the camera, Bryan admits he has doubts about being in a boy-band. "It's been an incredible dream of mine to be a performer," he tells us. "But over the course of the last week, I'm thinking, 'Is this it? Is this the route I'm meant to take?'" Marc admits he doesn't know how he'll react when Lou names the final five, but Bryan's certain he'll be a complete mess. "Let's get it out right now, out of the way," he suggests. "But these glasses are not coming off." The cameraman shoots into the rearview mirror, and we see tears streaming from behind Ranger Marc's shades. Bryan sniffles and squeezes the Ranger's shoulder. They're bonding; it's mushy. And it reminds me fleetingly of the time Bryan, trying to give Ikaika and Malia some privacy, stayed at Marc's instead of, oh, sleeping at home and on the couch. I'm just saying. "It's been phenomenal," Bryan sobs to the confessional camera.
It's possible that Drew Carey could replace either Mini- or Massive-Lou right now and barely anyone would do a double take.
A burning candle flickers in the O-Town house. Sad music plays. It's only just hitting Ashley that this is their final night as a team of seven, and he's distressed. Mike says he feels run ragged after Trans Con dragged the process out for so much longer than originally planned, and a green-ish Trevor looks like a hair-trigger is holding back the projectile vomit. Everyone fidgets, and Mike's already taking photographs off his bedroom wall. Way to be the optimist, Mike. Ashley promises to call his mother first when the dust settles. She jokes, "Is this going to be like, 'And the envelope, please...'" Ash giggles nervously and says he doesn't know. Erik-Michael kneels near the bed, head down and praying: "God is great, God is hip. Let us thank him for my lips. Amen." Flirting with clarity and getting shot down before he even reaches first base, Hot Lips blurts, "I feel like my brain is going crazy, like I can't even keep it in the shell that I call my body." To Ashley, he jokes that Lou should've hired Rent-A-Mom and Rent-A-Psychiatrist to help the two castaways cope with rejection. "I hired hookers instead," Lou confides. Ashley theorizes that Jay will be the psychiatrist, and Marc will act as the male-Mom, a figure I believe some cultures call a "father." Suddenly moved, Ashley stands and embraces Erik. "I want you to know whatever happens, I love you, bro," he whispers. Erik reciprocates, and then Trevor takes center stage. "The contracts are ready, and we're gonna make the cut," Trev says, visibly choked.
A solemn older man called Ken strolls in with the seven contracts in hand. Ikaika's in a muscle sweatervest, minus the requisite muscles. "It's something I dreamed about for so long, getting that contract," Jacob enthuses, smiling wide. Sitting around the table, the guys accept copies of the contract and applaud its arrival. "Here comes the contract," Ikaika points out uselessly in confessional. "But it's a good contract, so let's sign it and get chosen." Around the table, every guy inks his initials into the appropriate blanks and signs the finished document. Jacob opts to do it with Michael Jackson music pumping in through his headphones, so that it can truly be the greatest moment of his life. Twerp. Lou and Trevor share the headphones. With an abrupt momentum surge, Lou bursts out of his chair and attempts to rock on with his tough-ass self, but he pops the buttons of his Bad Idea jeans and is forced to plummet back into the chair. Cut to Jay, shaking his head and looking startled, sickened, and sad. Everyone hugs and probably agrees to pretend that never happened. "It was weird, I signed it, felt relief and excitement, and then -- okay, the cut's gonna happen now," Jacob says. Mike shares that all seven guys are trembling from the palpable current of emotions permeating the room. Jacob and Ikaika share more hugs, because you know, they're the best of friends.
Lou hogs the spotlight, which isn't hard given his girth. The two who don't make the cut will receive official letters declaring the contracts null and void, he informs the jittery group. "The hard part is what I'm coming to now," Lou sighs. Tension has Trevor so taut that I could pluck him and hear a high C. "Don't look at it that five win and two lose," Lou advises. "Look at it as five becoming part of a group, and two guys hopefully moving on to other opportunities." Cold comfort. Erik-Michael puts his arm around trembling Trevor, and Lou prolongs the pain by faking magnanimity, saying that even though it's so late, he'll stay as long as they want until they're ready for him to open the envelope. All seven guys practically choke in their haste to beg Lou to just please open the goddamn thing already and end the power trip. Mustering all his energy, because The Hutt doesn't have a waist, Jabba heaves himself over the arm of the chair, swipes at the envelope and comes up red-faced from exertion. As though its contents are a mystery, Lou cracks it open.
"So I'm going to announce the five guys," Lou says, certain he's been too subtle to have hammered that point home. "The first one..." The guys clasp hands and sit in a row. Erik gulps, "Oh my God!" "...Ikaika," Lou says. A huge sigh escapes six sets of lips as the prodigal son of Clan Kahoano, looking less thrilled than one would expect, stands and accepts a warm embrace from his Lou and master. Because he is wise and omniscient, and a cocky crap-head of a teenager, Jacob knew this would happen the minute he stamped Ikaika with his seal of approval. "Ever since me and Ikaika resolved the issue between us, I put him in my five," Jacob says sagely.
Second, Lou says with a smile that admits the obviousness of it all, "Jacob." The following love-in has been brought to you by Trevor: "Jacob's a shoo-in, by singing, by dancing, by stage presence, by charisma, by look. He's got all five wrapped around his finger." Mr. Underwood hugs Lou and Ikaika, then makes the rounds among the five remaining guys.
up: Ashley Parker Angel. He drops his head into his hands, and the guys around him slap his back. Lou tousles Ashley's hair, and Ash finally stands for his round of embraces. "He's got that look that's just gonna sell, sell, sell, sell, sell," Mike says emphatically. Ashley is shocked, and tells us the revelation smacked him as hard as the forthcoming resentful slap from soon-to-be-spurned girlfriend Shelli. "I felt so privileged in that moment to be part of the band, the tears just started streaming out of my eyes," Ashley recalls, adding that even he was taken aback by his weepy reaction. When he hugs Erik, the floodgates open.
The frightened four sit back down, clasp hands and stare at their tormentor, who's deriving sadistic thrills from stretching the agony on into the night. Trevor recalls mockingly, "Lou starts to talk again, and he says, 'Just want to let you know again how difficult this was,' he goes on and on for three or four minutes and the four of us are like, 'Shut up, Lou, shut up! God, shut up.'" Trev laughs when he remembers the moment, but on-screen we see totally pained people who'd like to spear Lou and sell his blubber for therapy money.
Lou finally drops the bomb: number four is Erik-Michael Estrada. Ashley immediately explodes with joy. "I wanted to make it with him!" Ash exclaims. "Oh, and I also wanted us to participate in a band together." Delightedly, Ashley pegs Erik's "big heart" as a great trait to bring the group together and keep it healthy. Good, because his witticisms and astute iterations of life's special lessons certainly won't help them any. For his part, Erik cries in shuddering spurts, grabbing at all the guys and weeping on Ashley's shoulder the hardest. He does not, mercifully, break into "Amazing Grace" again. Mike looks tense and ill.
One name left. Jacob suddenly realizes this is It for two of the three guys clasping hands on the couch, and notes, "Oh my God, right now, two guys are gonna be so sad." Not that it matters to him, since the Ringleader is already in place and screw the poor saps who get rejected. Mike hugs a purple pillow, Bryan looks resigned to his fate, and Trevor -- yup -- quivers in fright. Lou reaches into the envelope, pulls out a folded piece of paper and slowly unravels it to reveal the name. Like he couldn't just blurt it from memory. He acts like the whole process has been as much a surprise for him as anyone else.
"Trevor," Lou breathes. This show jerks Trevor's chain the hardest. He's a basket case, always the workaholic on the cusp of getting cut, so they torment him by picking him last both times. When they announced the final eight, it came down to young Penick or Jackie Salvucci, M.D., for the rights to a pity performance on the Rosie O'Donnell Show. Maybe Trevor won, maybe it was Jackie who got the better deal. One could argue either way. But poor Trevor's been squeezed through the psychological ringer, and it shows -- he sobs uncontrollably. This is the bawling extravapalooza we've awaited all season as Trev's hovered on the brink: loud sniveling sobs that wrack his whole body, and a bout of hyperventilation to boot.
Backtracking, it's obvious now that the aforementioned bedroom scene -- where just Ashley, Jacob, Erik and Trevor discuss Ikaika -- actually happened after the final cut was announced. Erik's language and Mike and Bryan's absence are dead giveaways. The snippet of Mike pulling photos from the wall also probably came from a later incident, or else he changed clothes between the pre-announcement tension and the actual event. It's just fun to notice these little things.
Gracious to the end, Mike looks sad but focuses on Lou's pain instead. "He felt so upset, he just looked at me and said, 'I'm sorry Mike,' with tears gushing out of his eyes," Mike tells us. As soon as Erik hears Trevor's name, he turns to Bryan and delivers a big consolation squeeze. Lou and Mike hug, and Mike quietly tells Lou that he is and will be okay. Jacob says he's thrilled to be in business with Lou because seeing his tears and conflicted emotions that night, it's clear his heart's so obviously invested in the talent. Lou smirks and quickly hides a bottle of Visine under the seat cushion. Erik and Trevor clutch wildly at each other, howling all over the place and quaking with sentiment. Bryan, getting an on-screen hug from Lou, says getting cut won't be what he remembers about the experience, although it'll be sort of difficult to forget that part. "It's about the people I've met, and the fact that they've had an incredible impact on my life," Bryan says, choked and near tears himself. In the living room, Bryan's coping fine, whereas Mike's holding back tears and looking solemn, hugging everyone tightly and blinking hard. In confessional, Mike sounds almost awed when he notes he's in the presence of the final five for "the biggest thing to hit the pop scene." In a corner, Ranger Marc looks upset, perhaps because big Bryan's going home, but Jay smiles with affection and looks proud of all the touching and feeling that's happening before him. "That was the greatest moment of my life," Trevor gushes. "It's a dream come true."
More new episodes are coming down the pipeline, I assume to document the departure of Bryan and Mike and the struggle of the five to act like a decent band. week, girlfriend troubles -- Jay says they'll have no personal life, and defies any of them to retain a girlfriend. ABC promises it's not over yet. That might be a threat.