Just like the Jacksons without Latoya, Randy and Janet, we're down to the most talented five - can you feel it?
"Lola's gone. Who cares, not a big fuss. I was expecting her to go a hell of a lot earlier so it was like 'Finally she's gone!'," spews Cassi in an outpouring of emotion so heartfelt, Hallmark immediately commissions her to write a series of greeting cards.
"I don't really mind who leaves now, as long as it's not me," says Adele, as Captain Obvious dances a jig behind her.
"I would have preferred Adele left because I find her boring," monotones Tahnee, as the pot and the kettle dance a jig behind her.
"I can't stand Clare, Tahnee can't stand Adele, and we all don't like Cassi," explains Franky helpfully. For those of you still struggling with this complicated set of relationships, here's a venn diagram to help:
Next week's lesson: Jungian mandalas.
In celebration of all this intelligent posturing, the girls are woken up at Model HQ the next morning by the most highbrow Sarah Mail delivery of the series so far (yes, even including the plastic toy farm animals with their photos stuck on) - an Asian opera singer in their backyard.
"I'm not used to seeing an opera in our backyard, so it was a bit of a shock," says Tahnee without a hint of comedy. Other things Tahnee isn't used to seeing in her backyard: 50,000 screaming fans dancing to The Who, 43 chefs baking a giant cheesecake and black conjoined twins playing the banjo.
"Life isn't a dress rehearsal - make sure you're the main event, not a shadow watching from the wings," reads Adele.
"OPERA SINGING!" shrieks Tahnee, seemingly forgetting that she is in A MODELLING COMPETITION.
Despite all historical evidence of the fact that models make horrific actresses, the girls are shunted off to the National Institute of Dramatic Arts for their first
bullshit challenge highly informative and useful class for the day.
"Immediately we saw the NIDA sign I think everyone knew we were doing something to do with acting," explains Franky in a show of such intelligence MENSA recruitment agents fall over themselves rushing to the phones.
Inside NIDA they meet Pease Porridge and two actory looking types, one of which I hope is from the wardrobe department because Adele has forgotten to wear pants today:
"There are plenty of beautiful women in the world, but what sets a model apart is her ability to play a role and make us believe," says Pease - a sentence that would be completely correct were the word "model" replaced with "actress".
For reasons that are best left unexplained, the next three minutes are filled with footage of the girls walking up to one another and saying "pussy pussy pussy pussy".
Let's move on, shall we?
This is followed by an improv exercise in which the girls have to give a prop-inspired eulogy at a funeral for a friend, a potentially dull activity that is livened up considerably when Clare turns it into an episode of CSI.
"Jenny - always the popular girl, the head of the clique. Well NOT ANYMORE, AND THIS IS THE BOOK I READ BEFORE I KILLED HER!" she gasps triumphantly, while everyone around her bears the facial expression equivalent of this:
Not to be outdone, Tahnee grabs a bra as her prop and gives a stirring speech about her dead friend's perky breasts, while Cassi stares at the lights to get the ol' tear ducts working. Ah Cassi, she's come a long way since that face scrunching incident in episode five.
But, without a doubt, the Oscar goes to Franky, who manages to conjure up more fake tears here than she did when Joh Bailey cut her hair. Waterworks in full swing, tears cascading down her cheeks, she wails about her poor, dead friend Jenny and how she's going to miss her so much... I can't help but think how useful all this training will be when Italian Vogue calls and asks them to model the latest in waterproof mascara while reenacting a scene from a mob funeral. In a cow suit. But actually it's really quite an amazing performance from Franky - so at least she's got a gig on Neighbours when this is all over.
Back at Model HQ and the highbrow hijinx continue, this time with a Shakespeare performance in the living room - by puppets. So, actually probably more lowbrow then.
"We heard these weird Shakespeare noises coming from the living room," says Tahnee.
Before anyone gets a chance to work out what that delightfully mental sentence could possibly mean, we find out by way of the crappiest Punch and Judy show ever, to which the girls react in the most appropriate way:
The face says it all.
After the puppets hand over another Sarah Mail (hey - at least it's a step up from a bottle floating in the pool) the girls trundle off to an advertising studio to meet Pease Porridge and Dicko's younger brother, who obviously caught a bit of that Punch and Judy show too:
Methinks the puppet doth protest too much.
Pease tells the models they're going to be starring in a television commercial for "Australia's most valued brand", Telstra. For the record, it's currently most valued at about 25 cents.
"This could be the start of your professional modelling careers," says Pease, neglecting to mention that his definition of "professional" doesn't include the clause about money changing hands.
"Just don't overact," says Dicko Jr, as Cassi and Franky try to think up ways they can involve hysterical crying in a Telstra advert.
Split into teams of two for their auditions, the girls have to pretend to be friends in a hotel room getting ready for a ritzy night out on the town. This involves lots of girly noises and dicking about with blusher brushes.
Clare and Franky are up first, and do a passable job with a squeal factor of 2/10 and a blusher brush dicking about factor of 6/10.
"It's really believable at the moment, I really believe you guys are friends," says Pease.
Cassi and Adele fare less well, upping the squeal factor by 7 to 9/10, but not scoring quite so high on the blusher brush dicking about factor with just 3/10. Also, it seems Adele has once again forgotten to wear pants.
Is she a nevernude...?
Franky goes back in for round two with Tahnee, scoring a clear 0 on both the squealing and blusher brush dicking about factors and producing something that's actually believable and cute. Predictably enough, the other scrags label it "fake" with "too much acting".
Coincidentally, the same thing was said of Casablanca upon its release.
Tahnee gets the gig, Franky is made her sidekick and Clare is given an extra role on the condition she drop her pussy. Pussy pussy pussy pussy. Er, sorry - got a bit distracted there. I meant on the condition she drop her "prissy" act by the next morning - or Cassi gets her part. Although given that the next thing we see is a rather surprise-killing piece of footage of Clare, Franky and Tahnee hamming it up in front of a television camera accompanied by the words "COMING UP AFTER THE BREAK" I think it's safe to assume she succeeds in this endeavour. Good one, editors.
At the shoot it's all hands on deck as the three chosen modelettes set about getting haired and makeupped. Franky squeals with excitement, Tahnee jiggles about in nervousness, and Clare decides to out herself as either a) a racist or b) an adult contemporary music fan by sitting next to Franky on the couch and singing Ebony and Ivory for no apparent reason.
"Clare's still being a bit prissy," snipes Cassi once the shoot is underway, in the vain hope that someone will hear her and drag Clare off set. Unsurprisingly, no one is paying any attention to Cassi at all, possibly because she is standing next to the personality black hole that is Adele who is sucking in anything within a five metre radius that is even vaguely interesting.
"That would be so emebarrassing to watch on TV," she continues, trying in vain to convince herself that being in a national ad campaign for Telstra would be a bad thing.
Yeah - it's not like you get national recognition or anything...
"Oh well, I've got better luck getting it out there than in here," slags Cassi. As she's not pointing to any orifices at the time we assume she's talking about scoring television work.
"I'm really not jealous, because I know I'll be able to get that type of stuff when I get out, so I'm really not jealous at all," she continues, before adding "You got that? I'm not jealous - NOT. JEALOUS. AT ALL. Jealous? Not. Me? Not jealous."
"I'll just go for another ad and I'll probably get it then," she finishes. As long as that ad isn't for humility, goodwill or charm she should be fine.
The commercial shot and in the can, and Cassi unfortunately neither shot NOR in a can, it's time for another Sarah Mail.
"Play the part and drive it home - put your emotion into motion" is the extremely cryptic and not at all completely-obviously-about-shooting-a-car-commercial message. Naturally, the girls are totally surprised to turn up the next day to a shoot for a car commercial. But not as surprised as they are to be greeted by the fourth member of Bros:
When will I, will I be famous?
Not to mention actor/comedian Steve Martin, who will be their photographer for the day:
You might remember me from such films as...
Long time ANTM watchers will remember Steve was responsible for the best Top Model photo shoot ever last year, in which he asked models to dress up as ostriches, pretend to play violins to fairies and swat flies while blowing and jumping on one leg. Let us all pray he has not yet given up his crack addiction.
But before we go any further, Blondie McPins is there to up the ante with a few plane tickets to London for the lucky four who survive the next elimination.
"Oh my god, I want to model overseas," blahs Adele, seemingly forgetting that she's ALREADY modelled overseas - about three metres over seas standing on a pylon in a Chanel suit two episodes ago.
Part of this week's shoot involves each model being assigned a historical "style icon" to emulate while hopping in and out of a Ford - sadly, no one is assigned Britney Spears, although Cassi is cast completely against type and given the equally classy role of Victoria Beckham. Somewhere in the distance, Mikarala can be heard screaming "DON'T LET THEM GIVE YOU A FARKIN VICTORIA BECKHAM HAIRCUT!"
Clare is made up as Twiggy and Tahnee is given the role of Elizabeth Taylor, which is great seeing as she's never heard of her before. Yes: Elizabeth. Taylor. Ten bucks says Tahnee can name all the Jonas brothers, though.
Pease reaches into the big bag of obvious and pulls out the biggest, most obvious card of them all for Franky - Grace Jones. Despite no one under the age of 30 having a bloody clue who Grace Jones is, the ANTM producers always find a way to work her into at least one photo shoot because it allows everyone to wank on about "masculine femininity" and it gives the makeup artists a reason to use orange blusher. Plus Franky's female, she's black and she has short hair. Duh, who else could she be?
Not really an "icon"...
Adele, meanwhile, is handed the role of Greta Garbo.
Or is it Gretta THE garbo?
It is about this time we start to realise Adele may not be going to London.
Car commercial shoot in a nutshell:
- Looking like a strung out Cyndi Lauper on a hair gel binge, Adele almost breaks her neck trying to drape herself over the Ford's bonnet but still ends up being outshone by what is essentialy an inanimate object. "What a CAR!" Pease yells enthusiastically as the car sits there, doing absolutely nothing.
- Tahnee looks amazingly, ridiculously, creepily like Elizabeth Taylor - or as she understands it, some woman who used to be big in the movies and stuff - and all form of thought exits my mind in a puff of smoke as I am completely captivated by the utter gorgeousness of what I'm watching.
- Steve asks Clare for some ideas about "some really 60s stuff" she could do, and she suggests "leaning on the bonnet", completely missing her opportunity to do anything involving psychedelic drugs and/or free love. Oh well.
- Cassi attempts Posh but ends up more Scary after being outshone by a pair of oversized sunglasses and a bad wig.
- Despite looking like Dwayne Wayne from A Different World without the flip glasses, Franky completely rocks it as Grace Jones, a venture that is helped rather amply by crazy makeup, a gold glitter jacket with shoulderpads and some crazy facial expressions.
Back at model HQ, the girls excitedly discuss the possibility of going to London - while Cassi sneaks away to call her boyfriend and bitch about the exact same thing.
"Yeah it'd be exciting, but it means I won't be able to call you," she whines.
"If I was to weigh up the odds I'd probably prefer to go home than to go to London," she says, in a watertight case for why Cassi should never become a bookie.
Yes, I see why she'd want to stay home now...
This is followed by the 12 inch dance remix of "I'm going home, I don't want to be here anymore and I don't care what you say cos I don't give a shit" by DJ Cassi Van Den Dungen feat. Franky and Tahnee. No one dances.
Over at the elimination warehouse and after the success of last week's toothpaste fancy dress it looks like they're at it again! This week Franky has come as Cassi, Clare has come as no-pants Adele, Cassi is masquerading as a tablecloth while a rather confused Tahnee has come as a garbage bag after a misunderstanding about "Greta Garbo". Adele has come as anyone you've ever seen walking down a mall ever.
Top marks for all concerned.
So, without further ado let's picture bitch:
- Franky looks rock and roll with a twist of psycho (even if her legs aren't QUITE as bangin' as Miss Jones'), and damn I want that jacket.
- Clare looks rather like a trout caught in a fishing net. A beautiful, Twiggy-esque trout. God knows where the car she's supposed to be advertising is.
- "You lok like you've got a knowing in your eye - which is really an oxymoron with you," says Identity Dawson to Tahnee who nods, smiles and wonders what "oxymoron" means.
- Adele looks like the lovechild of Cyndi Lauper and Cynthia Nixon that's been attacked by an airbrush. Needless to say, this is not quite the look anyone wants to see, ever.
- After spouting off all week about wanting to go home, Cassi flips the record over and plays the B side, "The judges liked my photo so I reckon I'll stick around a bit longer, thanks". No one dances.
- "We've really got to make the right decision this week," Blondie instructs the other judges, who all carefully cross "make wrong decision" off their TO DO lists.
And so it goes, down to the final two: Franky and Adele. Or, if you're Clare: ebony and ivory.
And as it turns out Franky WON'T be going to Hollywood - or London, actually - as she's kicked out the door in favour of the one-look-wonder-ranga Adele. Never mind Franky - if you work on that egg rap a little bit more and nick that gold jacket from wardrobe before you leave, you've got a bright career in front of you as a Grace Jones impersonator.
What are you doing? Don't go! Leave me a comment, and then head over to Jo Blogs for more model mayhem.