Psychologists became de rigueur in reality TV only in 2000, when the genre exploded and the networks got into the game. "Survivor" was based on a Swedish program called "Expedition Robinson" filmed in Malaysia in 1997; a 34-year-old Bosnian émigré named Sinisa Savija was the first person voted off, and four weeks after returning home to Sweden he stepped in front of a commuter train. Savija's family has always blamed his suicide on the trauma of the reality TV experience. From the start, "Survivor" producer Mark Burnett took no chances, employing psychologists to evaluate contestants' stability and counsel those voted off.

As embarrassing revelations about cast members have piled up -- "Joe Millionaire's" Sarah Kozar, for example, and her appearance in a few Internet bondage videos -- the rigor of background checks has intensified, so much so that characters who once passed muster might not qualify today.

"It would be interesting to see how Puck would do," says Murray, referring to the notorious "Real World" star.

"I'm not sure he'd pass the psych evaluation," echoes Rob LaPlante. "It's a question mark."

Over time, beyond weeding out fragile or unhinged people, casting directors have made creative use of psychologists' insights, to evaluate personality and foresee narrative arcs. "They'll make predictions like, 'That person will be defensive and has a possibility of closing down," Alpert says.

As valuable as those insights may be, they are made possible by another weapon in the casting director's arsenal: the hectoring interview. Hardball questions pierce veneers, drill down to core personality. They bypass interview anxiety. They jar a person's equilibrium as a shortcut to exposing true self. "How they answer or don't answer can be more relevant than the question itself," Alpert says.

And with Aisha Crump, now on the firing line, it works.

Aisha is described in Bunim/Murray's internal "casting summary" as a "5'2" petite Puerto Rican firecracker." She arrives for her interview in a low-cut, lavender, silk cocktail dress. A 26-year-old pharmaceutical sales rep in Chicago, she totes several broad-brush assets: She's videogenic, offers racial diversity, and seemed in earlier interviews to be opinionated and argumentative. At first, however, the conversation is disappointingly flat. The casting team seems distracted. They talk to each other, come and go from the room, take and make calls. Aisha seems to be losing them.

Sasha Alpert leans into the mike and offers comments intended to rile Aisha. "I don't think you can win; you're too sweet ... People are going to walk all over you. You're never going to win this game."

Aisha rises to the challenge. She tells a story about hiring a contractor to rehab a house. It's a typical contractor nightmare story, told with kindling heat and genuine recollected anger (as well as a keen understanding that a role on "Billionaire" hangs in the balance). "This is good," Alpert says to no one in particular. "Convince me."

Aisha, on fire now, builds to how she threatened the contractor with blackmail, telling him, "I have so much dirt on you." So, Aisha can play rough. She is one with her anger. Now, the casting team is focused, excited. Aisha has shown herself to have a volatility that might combust in prime time.

The interviewer, after finishing with Aisha, joins the rest of the team in the casting room. "So," she says, "I assume people liked her?"

If aggressive questioning unearthed gold in Aisha, it will reveal something less appealing in Stuart Bennett, a 35-year-old Washington consultant whose character is already sketched: gay, mixed-race, ex-drug addict. His father died the day before his first interview with Bunim/Murray; Stuart began crying during the interview, and that rawness impressed the casting team.

Today, at first, they are still liking him. Shown pictures of various leaders and asked for his reactions, he is pithy. George W. Bush? "Comedy." Ken Lay? "Busted!" The casting team laughs. As Alpert's interview progresses, though, he begins to seem complacent.

"How badly would you like to win?" she asks.

"I'd like to win," Stuart says, unconvincingly.

"What are you willing to do?" Alpert begins riding him. "I see you on that tarmac," she says.

When she asks him about George W. Bush, Stuart is dismissive. "You think it's better to get a blow job from an intern?" Alpert asks.

"Everyone's either gotten or given a blow job," Stuart says.

"I've never gotten a blow job," Alpert says.

"Like I said, everyone's either gotten one or given one."

There's an awkward pause. Alpert seems momentarily at a loss for words. In the casting room, everyone cracks up.

Alpert says she's made Stuart angry. He denies it. She insists. Finally, Stuart lets loose: "You want me to get angry? OK ... YOU'RE FUCKING PISSING ME OFF!"

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