Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, a movie by, I'm guessing, the Coen brothers provides the soundtrack. It's a Bollywood number. The dancers are outfitted in a rainbow of Indian garb. I am even less qualified to critique Bollywood numbers than I am to judge any other dance on this show, but I felt like this one could have used a little more energy. Or maybe twice as many dancers.
Cat comes out to thank Naikul for choreographing that one, and also to congratulate Shane Sparks, Wade Robson and Mandy Moore for their Emmy nominations -- Shane for his Transformers routine, Mandy for the table routine, and Wade for the hummingbird and flower routine. Classily, she doesn't mention that she herself got JOBBED by not getting one. [Ed. Note: She's not the only one who got snubbed. Here's our reasons we're pissed off.] You have the Emmy of my heart, Cat! Especially since you actually say "jidges" this week instead of just throwing it to the crowd.
Here on out, the judges have no say in who gets eliminated; it's all down to votes. Fingers crossed, hoping this means we don't have to listen to the judges' comments.
Time for a Mia Michaels contemporary routine featuring the women in white. Well, I suppose I'll get through it someh-- oh, god, Celine Dion? Ave Maria? Well, that explains why the women look wracked in pain as they writhe on the stage. They start off sitting on the edge of the stage, in low light, and proceed to flail about. Afterwards, Mia cries in the audience, which means either it sucked or it was awesome. ["It was awesome. The pretty little fallen angels, grasping at a chance to get back into heaven (or at least that was my interpretation). This cold-hearted gal had tears in her eyes." -- Angel]
Cat lines the girls up on stage so she can reveal the bottom two. Chelsie's safe; Comfort's in the bottom two, prompting tears from a woman in the audience. If this is her mom, I'd like to know that! Katee's safe, and it comes down to Courtney and Kherington. Courtney's safe; Kherington's also in danger.
The guys are doing a routine from a "mystery choreographer," says Cat, dancing to "Five Guys Named Moe" by Joe Jackson. They're in white tank tops and track pants. Very corny, with lots of handclaps and shuffling feet, pirouettes and leaps, Will in somewhat of a lead role. My enmity started to fade by the end, as I realized I'd rather watch this than five contemporary dancers pretending to be fish or whatever.