Shane Sparks’s cyber-tailored, comic-book, hip-hop opener felt like an anachronistic admonishment. Built around a leather-caped, sunglass-wearing Lauren (looking as assured as we’ve ever seen her), the choreographer seemed to be scolding us a priori to this week’s results: How could you let this one go?, he seemed to ask. Look at her. She’s got Presence. Technique. Style. How dare you interpret the kiss that ended yesterday’s rumba as this girl’s kiss good-bye! Then suddenly — shazam! — it wasn’t. Sara went poof! But in life as in Grimm, magic levies a heavy toll. The kiss we thought preordained Lauren’s leaving was Dominic’s farewell kiss instead.

Paired with — shock of shocks — boy-band escapee Neil in the bottom two, Dominic prayed to the audience, stared blind need at the audience, break-danced his heart out for the audience, even throwing in the novelty of spinning with his legs in a plastic deck chair. All for naught. In response, America shrugged. We’ve got a grudge with America now. As lead singer Ryan Tedder of One Republic aptly sang during the musical interlude, “It’s too late to apologize.” We can only hope that as restitution, next week delivers a ghastly dressed Lacey strutting as emptily as she did tonight, an out-of-his-element Danny spinning as indifferently as he did tonight, and a how’d-he-get-this-far Pasha reprising tonight’s downright embarrassing flag-team routine with a giant cape with holes to match his skill set. Oh, Sabra, sole soloist of pure pleasure, save us from our own worse selves! —Drew Pisarra