Untitled


Episode Report Card Demian: D+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT SPARKLE, Phoebe, SPARKLE! (Part I)

By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 1 | Aired on 09.27.2003

God! Anyway, after retrieving the scribbled Trokster vanquish, Raige orders Big Gay Chris off to the attic with her leash of mutts. The pack lugs Chris headlong up the stairs, and millions of sharp-eyed viewers learn that Drew Fuller flies commando when his pants drop below his waist to reveal a yard of ass crack. I'd linger on that embarrassingly tantalizing image, but this motherfucker's two hours long, and we haven't hit the goddamn opening credits yet. Anyone mind if I just carry on, then? Didn't think so.

After Piper putters from the kitchen, clad in an eye-searing blue floral print apron evidently designed for maximum clash with her orange floral-patterned blouse, the gals arrange themselves in a neat line beneath the stairs for the vanquish. Phoebe takes summoning duties, and the Trokster presently appears in the center parlor, grunting and scowling as is apparently his wont. Phoebe orders Piper to freeze him. Piper promptly flings out her Hands Of Discontent and spite-bombs one of the heads instead. "What did you do that for?" shrieks the Feebs. "I don't know!" Piper giggles. "I didn't mean to!" The remaining Trokster head growls in the Glamorous Ladies' direction, emitting a series of vocal concussion waves that flings them against the stairwell wall. The gals bounce into a pile on the floor, where Phoebe quickly spits out the following verse:

From other worlds far and near,
Let's get him the Trok out of here.

This season is going to SUCK.

The Trockadero howls and wails and blazes his merry way down to Hell. Raige goggles as Phoebe coolly wonders, "Is everybody okay?" "Yeah!" Piper dizzily enthuses. "That was awesome!" And the Feebs rolls her dim little eyes right into the opening credits.

New credits! They've wedged Drew Fuller in between Krause and Gregory, and he looks like an infant. Also: "Wedged." Heh.

The season's first wailing ovary accompanies the opening travelogue by yowling, "You're my. New. Fa-vor-ite. Thaaaang!" Shut it, bitch. Over at the Manor, Raige schlumps into the parlor, gingerly massaging her shoulder while sneering, "What kind of a Whitelighter can't heal?" "For the record," Big Gay Chris pissily replies as he lopes in after her, "you can't heal, either." Raige shoots him a withering side-eye as Phoebe singsongs, "Any other little surprises you'd like to share with us?" Big Gay Chris gets all furtive and shifty. Aw. The Feebs crosses to apply a compress to Raige's shoulder as Chris sighs, "Look, I haven't been a Whitelighter for very long, and healing? It's…big." I go to a very dirty place where "a Whitelighter" is replaced with "out" and "healing" is replaced with…something else. When I return, Phoebe's announcing that they'll be taking a collective break from Chris's rabid demon hunt until they can figure out What's Wrong With Piper. The addled witch in question glides through the hall at this moment, Tiny Gay Chris slung under her arm, to natter about laundry and casseroles before sweeping through the front door to head over to P3. The tinkly chimes and shrill choir from the pre-credits sequence reappear to accompany Phoebe's next line: "Oh. My. God. She is so sad!" Raige wrinkles her nose, aiming for disagreement but landing on disgust, and, after a bit of plodding dialogue regarding Chris's foreknowledge of future events and Phoebe's foul lunch date with Dipshit, she opines that "[the Dolt] did something to [Piper] before he left." Phoebe proposes they orb the Dolt's massive-yet-useless ass down from Whitelighterland so they might grill him directly. Big Gay Chris stutters and stammers and finally reveals that the Dolt's gone missing. Damn, but Drew Fuller's pretty in these shots. Pretty pretty pretty. The cinematographer's obviously in love with him. As is the lighting designer. The hairstylists? Not so much. His mop's far too long in the back, the overall color's a little flat, and those bangs of his are unforgivably limp. And what's with the assy, off-center part, people? That 'burner from Queer Eye could teach them all a thing or two, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind showing Drew a few new tricks while he's at it.

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