You ask what power I wield over Dancing With the Stars? Last week, I accused the male dancers of letting the dames outdo them in the cleavage department. Evidently stung, Alec Mazo unbuttoned his shirt to the navel and Cody Linley exposed his hairless epicene chest with a plunging laceup V-neck like David Cassidy circa 1970 (though the white outfit more resembled Travolta's Saturday Night Fever suit recut as a Nehru jacket). Tony Dovolani, the only guy to flash a coy nipple on the first episode, had Susan Lucci rip his shimmering white satin shirt right open.

"Looks like some of our stars are going to bail out of their costumes," said host Tom Bergeron, joking about the stock meltdown.

The big theme this week was exceptionally contrived training footage. Tired of being out of her element on Alec's dance planet, singer Toni Braxton took Alec to a karaoke bar. He caterwauled badly. Rocco DiSpirito made risotto for Karina Smirnoff. "When it's finished, it feels like cashmere on your mouth!" Yecch! Derek Hough gave a karate lesson to Brooke Burke, who explained, "I need controlled aggression." Kim Kardashian sought sexiness tips from Robin Antin of the Pussycat Dolls (which is like taking investment advice from Dick Fuld).

Things improved when stars quit training and started dancing, though most were worse than last week because they had less time to train. In their paso doble, Alec expertly propelled Toni around in a fluttering peach-colored outfit like a hospital gown, only open in the front. "I'm not even as good as Cloris [Leachman] is at this," she lamented, but Alec made her look good.

Still, they had more pizzazz last week. Maybe that's why they only got a score of 23, while the judges shockingly gave Warren Sapp and Kym Johnson's Matrix-inspired paso doble a 24. Granted, the tree-sized Sapp showed surprisingly fancy footwork in bullet time, but they both screwed up the finale completely and Sapp gets way too much credit based on low expectations. How come nobody booed this outrage? Because everybody loves a big lug.

The judges get no argument from me on Brooke and Derek's 24 score. When he lets her whirl, it's got the snap of the Catwoman's lash. Yet Brooke was a bit off her game too. "It was as good as we had time to make it," she said. She also sucked up to the judges rather shamelessly: "We take what they say and learn from it."

Ms. Kardashian remains inert, a length of plastic tubing with a pronounced bulge at one end. "You've got all the gear in the rear," said judge Len, but no oomph. "I'll just have to put my rear into gear," she said, "put gear in my rear." Did she say that out loud? Everybody wished she'd just reprised last week's smash mambo to Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back," the show's hit internet video.

Mak Chmerkovskiy almost reduced Misty May-Treanor to tears, even though she could probably deck him with one punch. But she's used to being bullied by coaches, and came through with a surprisingly technically ambitious routine. In keeping with his rehearsal-room brutality (which he apologized for onscreen), the two of them wore matching S&M wear, like vampire barflies on True Blood. It was a pyrrhic victory, though. Mak succeeded in teaching her the steps, but at the price of destroying her confidence and blowing their emotional performance. "It's like you're in the home for the bewildered," said Len. "You've gotta connect." E.M. Forster couldn't have said it better.

That's the real key to winning on this show. You've got to connect with your partner, the judges, the audience. Cloris Leachman blew it by trying to do an actual paso doble, playing it straight. "I like crazy Cloris," complained Carrie Ann. She got a 15.

Chef Rocco is the most horrifyingly two-left-shoed dancer still on the show, but it's fun to watch him and Karina flirt like they mean it. He smiles like a young, nonstoned Ryan O'Neal. When he fails to follow her steps, she laughs with apparent affection. I hope he survives, though it's either him or Cloris on the chopping block next. Memo to Cloris: Your early stuff was funnier.

I hope they fire the two least-fun couples, even though as dancers they're not half bad. Lance Bass and Lacey Schwimmer think they're so daring, so avant-garde, but their modern dance has all the dumb crassitude of the "Air Otica" number in All That Jazz with none of Fosse's appalling genius.

But my very least favorite contestants are the still better dancers Cody Linley and Julianne Hough. Perhaps terrified by costar Miley Cyrus's Vanity Fair cheesecake photo scandal, Cody goes way out of his way to stress his extreme virginity. Cody's a pro, and he went through the motions with empty skill and zero emotion. So did gorgeous, only slightly less sexless Julianne. They're probably too good to get the boot, and too important to the show's modest youth demographic. But I'd like to see them get defenestrated, and then see Lance and Lacey land on their heads.

Won't happen. It'll be either Cloris or Rocco. I'll miss them when they're goners.

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