Okay, first we get a montage sequence of all the cheerleaders shot individually from the waist up, warming up and "dancing." Obviously, some editor thinks that if he makes a lot of quick cuts and inserts a shot of Nicole saying "five, six, seven, eight" really authoritatively, no one will notice that none of these girls is really dancing -- just waving their arms around to Madonna's Lucky Star. This sequence is scaring me for some reason. Maybe it's Brooke in her sports bra, smiling like someone's got a gun to her head. Maybe it's the way Mary Cherry is aggressively pursing her lips. Maybe it's just supposed to be intentionally irritating. Who knows? There's Carmen in the Novak, zipping up her Glamazons tracksuit and getting ready to join the rest of the girls and fulfill her life's destiny. She thanks someone off camera for supporting her all the way and promises not to sell out now that she's "got the dream." Looks like Carmen is moving up in the world because, for once, she is not delivering her monologue to a serving of snack food. She's actually talking to a couple of human beings. Sam and Lily are listening to her, perched on the circular thing in the middle of the Novak, leaning together lifelessly like Shields and Yarnell doing that marionette thing. "How do I look?" asked Carmen. "Sassy and sexy," says Lily. Webster's defines "sassy" as "marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others." Yeah, that's Carmen. Actually, I think that Lily just heard Roseanne and Nell Carter described as "sassy" so often that she just figured sassy is what you call a fat girl when she asks for a compliment, no matter how little "cocky boldness" that fat girl may have. Carmen is all excited about being able to say that she's "late for practice" and runs out. Lily asks Sam if it's too late to do an intervention. Interventions = late eighties/early nineties reference number 1. Carmen takes her place among the Glamazons. Carmen, rent Hairspray with Ricki Lake and let her show you how it's really done. You have no sense of rhythm whatsoever.
Credits. Why the hell are those parents still appearing in the opening credits while none of the Chess Club gets a nod?
Josh Ford's dining room. Josh's mother is lovingly gazing at photos of her sons in their football uniforms. Josh comes up behind her, and they start practically making out because they've got so much mother/son love going on. Josh and his mother discuss the play that Josh is in. Oh yeah, the play! "You can't hide the play from Dad forever," she says. Oh yeah? They've hidden the play from us, the viewers, for most of the season, so I say, why not? Josh's dad, now played by a totally different actor than earlier in the season, enters and tells his wife to get him his coffee, thus demonstrating what a bad, bad sexist man he is. Mr. Ford tells Josh that he has a friend who is a coach at Michigan who's having a recruitment dinner on Friday, and Josh had better be there. Josh and Mrs. Ford look at each other in barely contained horror, because Friday is the night of the play. Josh tries a myriad of excuses to get out of it, but Mr. Ford isn't having any of it. "Jean," says Mr. Ford gruffly. "Get me my breakfast." Okay, the woman who plays Mrs. Ford is a good enough actress, but I'm just not buying her for a second as the Allison Janney character in American Beauty, i.e. the long-suffering wife of a stuck-in-the-fifties, controlling sexist pig. Jean Ford looks like the kind of woman who, if you told her to get you breakfast, would just blithely ring for Consuela to fix it while she ran upstairs to change into a pair of jodhpurs for the fox hunt. Furthermore, for the household of a domineering testosterone-laden ex-football player, this house is looking way girly with all this ornate paneling and pseudo-Louis Quinze furniture.
Hallways of Kennedy High. Carmen is explaining to Sam what the best part of being a cheerleader is. "The all-you-can-eat buffet?" guesses Sam. Carmen sassily stuffs Sam into a locker. Oh wait, I was dreaming. In reality, Carmen just lets the insult slide and explains to Sam that getting to be a cheerleader is a self-esteem boost, like "natural Prozac." Carmen, try real Prozac. April Tuna, who is breaking my heart with her circa-1939 female drill-sergeant haircut and her aqua schoolteacher's blouse that ties in a bow at her collarbone, appears. She tells Sam that she's wanted in Principal Hall's office. Sam runs off to see what Principal Hall wants and April Tuna stars nervously chatting up Carmen. "What's your favorite color?" asks April, tingling with young love. "Green," answers Carmen. "Mine too!" says April. Carmen is kinda freaked out by April's crush on her and walks off to her class. May Tuna appears at April's side like a feral beast and asks April what Carmen smelled like. "Teen Spirit!" answers April longingly. Smells Like Teen Spirit: late eighties/early nineties reference number 2.
Sam enters Principal Hall's office. Principal Hall introduces her to Jamie Gunn, a producer for Enterteenment Tonight. Jamie Gunn is one of those fast-talking, ball-busting, trend-oriented career women you always see on TV. Fast talking, ball busting trend oriented career woman: late eighties/early nineties reference number 3. It turns out that Principal Hall sent Jamie, a former student, a copy of Sam's documentary about popularity. Wow, first Josh's play resurfaces, now that documentary. Someone's been looking into continuity. Based on the "real-ness" of Sam's documentary, Jamie offers her the chance to produce a ten-minute segment on teens for Enterteenment Tonight. Sam is thrilled until Brooke enters the office. She's been summoned because Jamie was impressed with her on-camera presence in Sam's documentary. Jamie asks Brooke to be the on-camera interviewer for Sam's piece, and Brooke is thrilled. Sam is not. Wow -- Brooke and Sam are enemies, and yet they are going to be forced to interact with each other throughout this entire episode. Jeez, that never happens. "You're right," says Jamie to Principal Hall. "She smells just like vanilla!"
Remember the A/V room where Sam was when Josh came to talk to her? Sam and Harrison are not in that room, but rather in an empty classroom with a lot of audio/visual equipment, hereafter referred to as Self-Centered Teen Production Studios. We see, yet again, that piece of footage with Brooke talking about how she doesn't want to be labeled. Heavy. Sam bitches about Brooke being the centerpiece of a project she worked so hard on, and she threatens to bail on the project. Harrison reminds her that it's a golden opportunity for a serious journalist like Sam and tells her not to throw it away because of her petty rivalry with Brooke.
The cafeteria. The cheerleaders (minus Carmen) sit at their usual table; Mary Cherry congratulates Brooke on her "Connie Chung" dream coming true. Connie Chung: late eighties/early nineties reference number 4. Brooke is excited but very nervous and decides to rent Broadcast News to prepare. Broadcast News: late eighties/early nineties reference number 5. Nicole asks if Brooke is nervous because of something she's not allowed to talk about in public. Mary Cherry and Popita Fresh want to know what that something is. "There are no secrets among friends who wax," says Mary Cherry. Finally, Brooke and Nicole tell the story of how Brooke was evaluated by a computer during career week, which told her that the career she was best suited for was rodeo clown. The table erupts in sympathetic laughter and Mary Cherry gives her opinion that those computer tests are totally random. "I took that exact same test, and my career match-up said 'Mary Cherry, the career that is best suited for you is serial killer!' I mean, God! It's crazy!!" and she laughs hysterically while the other girls look at each other thoughtfully.
The locker room. While a bunch of extras walk by in towels, Josh and Sugar Daddy have a heart-to-heart. SD is all outraged that Josh hasn't come clean with his dad about the play. Funny, I don't recall any of my high-school friends encouraging me to be more honest with my parents, but hey, the times they are a-changin'. Josh tells Sugar Daddy that he wishes he could talk to Brooke, but that they haven't spoken since their break-up. Sugar Daddy is throwing around a lot of earnestness in this scene, I think because these are his only lines in this entire episode.
Somewhere in the Kennedy High parking lot. Lily and Carmen are waiting for a ride home from school. Lily is bitching about having to wait for her mother to drive her anywhere. Carmen suggests that they go the DMV together on Thursday to get their licenses. Good idea, girls, but a couple of things to keep in mind . . . 1) You don't just saunter into the DMV and pick up a license like it's a carton of milk. You have to make an appointment to get your learner's permit, take the written exam for that, make an appointment for a driving test, pass it, and circumvent a frightening degree of red tape. 2) So let's say for the sake of argument you get that license, Lily. I doubt your mother is going to buy you a car, since when we last met her she was complaining about how poor the family was, and since we haven't seen you at Mr. Cluck's lately, you probably can't afford one either. But that's not the point, really. The point is that cheerleader-Carmen hasn't forgotten the little people in her life and she still can make time to go to the DMV with her best friend. Hmmm. Do you suppose anything is going to happen that would ruin that special time between Carmen and Lily?
Get out of my dreams and into my car, April Tuna, in your beaded aqua top that ties at the neck and your plaid calf-length skirt. She appears before the girls and asks Carmen to sign her "Carmen Ferrera poster." April then explains to Lily that these posters are on sale at the Carmen Ferrera Web site that she runs. What's the URL for that -- www.spinelesscorpulence.com? Carmen is all aflutter over her fan base. April walks off with her coveted signature. Lily warns Carmen not to let any of this go to her head. Carmen snorts in protest. Yes, I am absolutely serious. The script actually calls for Carmen to make a piggy noise.
In an empty classroom, Sam pitches a segment idea to Jamie Gunn, the ball-busting, trend-oriented TV producer who towers above Sam and Brooke in a really high director's chair. Jamie isn't down with the homeless teen story: "Too gritty." Jamie turns to Brooke and asks if she has any ideas. Sam groans inwardly. Brooke, in all her budding career-girl innocence, suggests a story about teenage fame, citing the sudden surge in popularity of people like the Backstreet Boys and Christina Aguilera. Jamie wants to hear more. Brooke suggests an interview with Johnny Depp. Brooke, first of all, Johnny Depp hasn't been a teen for at least ten years. Second of all, Johnny Depp: late eighties/early nineties reference number 6. Sam calls Brooke on the fact that Johnny Depp is hardly going to consent to be interviewed by a Kennedy High student. "Ree-ow," says Jamie with cat claws extended. "I'm loving the creative energy caused by all this cat-fighting." She asks Sam to jump in with her "mental crazy glue" and fix Brooke's fractured idea. I am loving this Jamie woman. I hope they make her a female Godfrey and have her turn up everywhere. Sam suggests they do a piece on a Kennedy High student who has star quality: Josh Ford. Jamie is all tuned into the idea, but Brooke is freaked at the notion of working with Josh, much to Sam's amusement. Brooke tries to kill the idea because of her personal involvement with Josh, but Jamie won't hear of it -- they're doing a documentary about teen fame, and Josh is the main subject because he's a high school quarterback and the lead of a high-school play. Whatever.
Back at Self Centered Teen Production Studios, Sam gets down to business, passing out production schedules to Harrison and Brooke. Brooke starts bitching Sam out about suggesting the Josh segment. Sam replies that Brooke was the one who thought of the fame idea in the first place. Harrison, because he's a man, baby, reminds the ladies to act professionally and tells them to stop fighting. Besides, he warns, Josh might not cooperate with this documentary anyway. Sam and Brooke are momentarily humbled by the possibility of not having a willing subject.
In the computer lab, April Tuna is e-mailing my heart ["Augh!!" -- Sars] in a flannel shirt and searching the web for Carmen Ferrera memorabilia. Josh and Carmen are stars? This show has taken a serious unreal turn.
Warning: Gwyneth Paltrow reference ahead. In the cafeteria, Lily sits pathetically alone at the Browns' table; Carmen sits with the cheerleaders. Mary Cherry announces the excellent news that Mephisto, stylist to the stars, is going to style their driver's license photos. All the blondes but Carmen squeal with delight. Carmen is taken aback that Mary Cherry, Nicole and Poppy would get professionally styled for a DMV photo, until they all explain the whole concept: should any of the Glamazons be murdered savagely by a serial killer like Gwyneth was in Seven, the photo of them that they'll display on the news would be their driver's license photo. They ask Carmen to come along, but Carmen bails, telling the cheerleaders how important it is that she honor the commitment she made to Lily. Oh lordy, I was totally smoking crack when I wrote that last sentence. What I really meant to say is that Carmen is convinced to come along and doesn't give a thought to her standing date to go to the DMV with Lily. Lily, who has heard the whole exchange, looks mad.
In the hallway, Sam tries to convince Josh to let them film him for the documentary. Josh, thinking about his family problems, doesn't think it would be a good idea. Sam slyly puts it out there that Brooke will be the on-air talent. Josh does an about-face and agrees to be a part of the segment.
Obligatory menstruation reference ahead. The auditorium. Sam, Harrison, and Josh wait for Brooke so she can start interviewing Josh. Sam tells Josh that she wants to interview Josh's parents. Josh is late for a wardrobe session and he doesn't want the documentary to include his family. Sam tries to convince him otherwise. Brooke appears, still undecided about which of two shirts to wear on-camera. Josh gets called away by Miss Ross for a costume fitting, and Sam bitches Brooke out for being late and wasting interview time with Josh. The girls start fighting. Sam fires Brooke. Brooke tells Sam she can't fire her because she quits, "but first, you're fired." They storm off in separate directions, and Shanell Shabu, Josh's co-star, explains to Harrison that when women live together their cycles coincide. Oh, is that so, Miss Shabu? Then I guess Sam and Brooke both menstruate twice a week.
Back home at Josh's house, a beer-drinking Mr. Ford adds up figures on an old-fashioned calculator and complains about the cost of running a family. It's called Excel, Mr. Ford. Check it out. Also, if you really want to save money, stop having a forty-five-year-old gay man who spent his Parson's junior year in Paris decorate your house. Josh tries to get out of the recruitment dinner yet again and ends up spilling the beans about his role in the school play. Mr. Ford is outraged that Josh never dropped the play as he was told to, and he starts yelling. Mrs. Ford enters and incurs the wrath of Mr. Ford when it comes out that she knew about the play all along and kept it from him. Mr. Ford storms off, and Mrs. Ford gives Josh one of those looks that's supposed to suggest she's going to see the back of Mr. Ford's hand sometime this evening. Meanwhile, the actress playing Mrs. Ford can't help but look like she's just going to retire to her own bedroom, slip into a La Perla nightie, pour herself a generous Dubonnet and read the latest Vogue.
Later the day, Mrs. Ford picks Josh up at school, wearing the same outfit and hairstyle as Julia Roberts had in Sleeping with the Enemy after she faked her own death, hacked all her hair off, and grabbed a bus to Iowa to escape her abusive husband. Julia Roberts in the wake of her Pretty Woman rise to Hollywood prominence: late eighties/early nineties reference number 7. Michael O'Keefe, I mean Josh, tells Blythe Danner, I mean Mrs. Ford, that he hates it when the Great Santini, I mean Mr. Ford, yells at her. Mrs. Ford encourages Josh to stand up to his father and do the play. Josh makes out with his mom some more.
Sam and Brooke are now waiting for Josh at Self Centered Teen Production Studios. They are antsy that he's late and start speaking to each other through Harrison in one of those snide, "Harrison, would you please ask Sam blah blah blah," "Harrison, would you please tell Brooke blah blah blah," passive-aggressive dialogues. Harrison tells the girls to cool it -- there probably isn't going to be a documentary since he thinks Josh is blowing them off. Josh appears, and the girls expect him to drop out of the documentary, but to their surprise, he affirms his commitment to the project. I also want to add that Brooke is wearing a shirt that is kind of baggy but really really tight across the bust. It is not flattering at all and makes her look like she's got a pair of hacky-sacks stuffed into her bra.
In the Novak, Mary Cherry sits at the make-up table and puts on a pair of rubber gloves. April Tuna enters, and she's once, twice, three times a lady in her navy denim jacket with Bedazzler studs all over it. Mary Cherry takes a pair of Carmen Ferrera's panties out of some biohazard packaging and sells them to April Tuna. Poppy enters and almost catches Mary Cherry having a conversation with a Tuna twin, but Mary Cherry covers herself by making like she's in the middle of insulting April: "Muh butt is prettier than you are!" Poppy leaves and Mary Cherry gleefully counts her money while April sniffs Carmen's panties. I thought April was poor -- where's she getting all this money? I thought Mary Cherry was rich -- why is she stealing Carmen's panties and selling them over the Internet? Oh, who cares, I'm in hysterics.
Sam and Brooke finally interview Josh on camera back at Self-Centered Teen Production Studios. Brooke asks Josh how he feels now that the play is in the home stretch. Josh replies that it's weird for him; he and Brooke have broken up and aren't speaking, yet here they are, talking in front of a camera. Brooke confesses that it's weird for her too. Forgetting all about the camera, Josh starts confiding in Brooke about how bad he's feeling and how his family is breaking up because of the play. Sam and Harrison exchange a smirky look over what great footage they're getting. I tell you, this TV assignment is corrupting these kids. Come back to the five-and-dime, Sam, Brooke, and Harrison, Sam, Brooke, and Harrison.
Lily is at the DMV alone. She gets her license and takes a bad photo. It's supposed to be a bad photo, but she looks adorable, even more adorable after she puts her little wool cap back on. She complains to Godfrey about the unflattering photo. Remember Godfrey? Lily's old boss at Mr. Clucks, and the Clinique manager? He refuses to do anything about it because "this isn't Vogue Magazine." Word, Godfrey. Lily tells Godfrey that he's just angry at her because she ratted on him for his constant sneezing into the salad bar at Mr. Clucks. "Au contraire," says Godfrey, and he tells Lily that he's psyched to be a government employee who can never be fired; now he can be "as nasty as I wanna be." 2 Live Crew: late eighties/early nineties reference number 8. The Cheerleaders enter, all styled up for their photo shoot. Carmen has been given one of those Ann-Wilson-of-Heart makeovers where they've made her hair all big so no one will notice how fat she is. Heart after Ann gained all that weight: late eighties/early nineties reference number 9. Poppy is all excited that she looks just like Selena. Poppy? Rita Moreno is more like it. Selena, before Selma Hayek and Jennifer Lopez had the whole Latin thing tied up: late eighties/early nineties reference number 10. Mary Cherry insults Lily, calling her "Fast-Food Hagatha." Carmen speaks up for her best friend Lily, telling Mary Cherry to shove it in a really spirited, sassy way. Okay, who did I think I was kidding? She actually doesn't say a word to defend Lily. Lily stomps off, and Carmen gazes after her guiltily. April Tuna is the sun, April Tuna is the rain that makes my life this foolish game, in the same jacket she had on in the girl's room, but now she's added a purple-and-orange-striped woolen cap with purple-and-orange pom-poms dangling above each ear. She appears in the window in front of Carmen waving a "Go Carmen" sign. Carmen looks flattered but a little overwhelmed.
Self-Centered Teen Production Studios. Brooke and Sam look over a rough cut of their footage and have a fight about -- oh whatever, I can't really keep track. Sam, in an uncharacteristic act of maturity, breaks through the hostility by telling Brooke that she's onto something with this interview, and now they've really, really got to talk to Josh's family on-camera. Brooke volunteers to call Josh's mom since she knows her and arrange an interview. I have to admit that the girls actually have nice chemistry going on in this scene.
Meanwhile, at the DMV, the cheerleaders take their driving tests with Mary Cherry's humvee. The road test is not held on a road at all, but in a parking lot with orange cones. What fool kind of DMV office lets you test on an obstacle course and not in regular traffic, and lets you take the driving test the same day you get your learner's permit? They all drive like aggressive maniacs, and Godfrey welcomes them one by one to "the world of road rage" as they pose for glamorous license photos. Carmen is up last. While she takes her test, April Tuna records the moment on her digital camera. Alas, Carmen doesn't get her license because she slams into April Tuna by mistake, sending her flying through the air like the teen angel I've always known she was.
Josh comes home to find his mother being interviewed by Sam, Brooke, and Harrison. He is furious that his mother is airing the family's dirty laundry. Mrs. Ford tells Josh that she's doing it so she can finally stand up to her husband. Whatever. Your friends are waiting for you at Le Cirque 2000, Mrs. Ford. Get into that ivory-and-faun microfiber Balmain suit of yours and go join them and stop pretending that you're scared that Josh's dad is going to come home any minute. Josh, feeling used, announces that he's tired of all this and he's quitting the play and the documentary. Then they have one of those "real footage" moments where we see Josh pushing the camera away from him from the POV of the lensman.
South Pacific's opening night. The Blondes file into the auditorium, congratulating Carmen on running over April Tuna. Carmen protests that it was an accident. The Blondes don't believe her, and Nicole expresses awe at Carmen's killer instinct. April Tuna wheels herself down the aisle in a wheelchair and full body cast. April's the one with all the broken bones, but I'm the one who needs to see a doctor, 'cause this girl's got me paralyzed. Carmen tells April that they need to talk.
Backstage. Brooke, Sam, and Harrison debate whether to tell Miss Ross that Josh is not going to show up for the performance. Sam urges Brooke to find Josh and convince him to go on. Brooke urges Sam to find Miss Ross and talk to her about Josh. Sam doesn't want to get involved with the story. Brooke doesn't want to lead Josh on. Miss Ross appears, asking where Josh is. As they prepare to tell her, Josh materializes, ready to go on. Brooke asks him on-camera what made him change his mind. Josh is all, "I wanted to do this, so I'm doing it." And can I just express my profound outrage at how cheap the production budget is for Popular that they don't show any extras running around wearing costumes, carrying sets, or doing anything that looks remotely backstage-ish? I thought South Pacific took place on a tropical island. I don't see anyone running around in a grass skirt or carrying tiki lights or anything.
Carmen wheels April into the Novak and tells her that she's got to stop stalking her. Carmen, be nice -- you just ran this girl down with a humvee. At least wait until you're sure she's not filing a lawsuit. April tells Carmen how much she means to her since she rose up from the social depths of Kennedy High and became a cheerleader, something April herself has longed to do. Carmen gives April Tuna a believe-in-yourself-and-everything-you-want-is-yours speech. April exits, and a toilet flushes. Out of one of the stalls pops Lily, who tells Carmen that she's her hero too. Uh, Lily, that's touching and everything, but could you have at least waited until Carmen apologized for being such a lousy friend before you forgave her?
Backstage at the cheapest high school production of South Pacific in history, Brooke cuts off Shanell Shabu's jabbering about Jesus being her savior and goes over to interview Josh. Word comes backstage that Mr. Ford is in the house. Josh and Brooke exchange meaningful glances, and I'm giving them an episode or two to get back together. Josh goes out onstage, and the camera zooms in on him really tightly so we can't see that there are no sets built for this production. He sings badly, but we're supposed to be knocked out by his white-tuxedoed performance, just like Brooke is as she watches lovingly from backstage. In the middle of Josh's song, Mr. Ford gets up and walks out of the auditorium. Josh takes a curtain call and runs out to stop his dad. Please don't make me go over the Josh-confronts-his-father thing, you've all seen it in a hundred movies already, "Don't walk out on me Dad because this is who I am blah blah blah." Oh yeah, and something else about how Josh's brothers are miserable because they blindly followed Mr. Ford's plan for their lives and now they hate him. I can't stand these scenes. Josh's father is pretty rude about the whole thing and the cameras are rolling for all of it, much to Sam, Brooke, and Harrison's delight. Mr. Ford leaves, but Mrs. Ford refuses to go with him all defiantly. Jamie Gunn, who has been watching this entire drama unfold, is all excited at the action-packed footage Sam, Brooke, and Harrison are getting.
The final scene is a video message to Jamie Gunn of Enterteenment tonight. Sam and Brooke explain on-camera that the documentary turned out really well, but they erased it because they had a change of heart. They realized that they were just using Josh, and how evil that was of them. Then they go on and on about how fame corrupts people and how they realized that valuable lesson through making the segment, because they let their own quest for television fame get in the way of their respect for Josh's privacy. The girls are really cute while they do this scene, but I just want to say that in real life, when you're hired to make a television documentary, whatever you shoot belongs to the network that hires you; erasing your footage, even stuff you shot and edited yourself, will get your ass sued and you will never work in TV again. The girls sign off. The name of this episode was Ex, Lies and Videotape, obviously a pun on the Soderbergh movie. Sex, Lies and Videotape: late eighties/early nineties reference number 11.