Episode Report Card Demian: C | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Y Tu Mammaries También
By Demian | Season 5 | Episode 10 | Aired on 01.04.2003
Okay, not so much that last line, but whatever. My VCR's so old, and the images it produces so snowy and degraded, I'm surprised I could read any of it at all. The watercolor of Mr. (Hewitt) that accompanies the entry is appalling, by the way. He looks like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. The Dolt steps up to provide some hasty exposition: Mr. (Hewitt) has spent centuries abducting witches to function as hosts for the spirit of his wicked, evil girlfriend, Isis. Because two souls cannot share the same body, the hosts end up dying, so Mr. (Hewitt) keeps snatching stronger and stronger witches. Basically, he's hoping to latch onto a witch whose powers are of such strength that Isis can harness them to expel the host's soul before the host's physical form deteriorates. We get a reaction shot of Piper that seems to indicate she remembers all of this, but then she snits, "Are you telling me she's going to evict someone from their own body? That's rude." No, Piper. What's rude is recycling plot devices from embarrassing third-season episodes. What's even ruder is insulting the audience's intelligence by having you forget all about the time The Late Lamented sporked you with an athame to release the SlutEssence from your body. "What do mummies have to do with all this?" Raige asks. The Dolt duhs that Mr. (Hewitt) mummifies the bodies to prevent the spirit of Isis from "moving on" while he searches for a new host. Rose McGowan has the same dazed expression of disgusted disbelief on her face that I have on mine. Then she pulls it together long enough to "realize" that Mr. (Hewitt) must have been using the scrying crystal to locate his next victim. The three hustle over to the attic's map, whereupon Raige recites the following while dangling the crystal from her hand:
Scrying secrets, come to me.
Drop again so I might see.
The crystal slams down on the corner of "Fifth and Hyde." "That's Phoebe," Piper breathes. DUN!
The Bay Mirror. The Bay Mirror would like to remind you that it's "The Newspaper Of The Year." As if. Phoebe zips her brand-new silver sports car into a parking space and emerges to find Mr. (Hewitt) lounging against a nearby roadster. "Great body," (Hewitt) smirks. "Mind if I borrow it for a while?" Oh, OW. Like a meat thermometer in my ear is that line. The thing is, Adrian Paul (Hewitt)'s clearly reveling in the cheese, so it's hard not to smirk along with him. As Raige, Piper, and the Dolt orb into the parking lot in broad daylight to bellow unheeded warnings at the Feebs -- and no, that's not conspicuous at all, you jackasses -- Phoebe launches into one of her standard-issue flying kicks, aiming for Mr. (Hewitt)'s disturbingly attractive face. Seriously, he's the strangest-looking B-movie sex symbol I've seen in a long time. He's what would happen if Rod Blagojevich mated with a basset hound, so why am I making damp eyes at him? Oh. That's right. The estrogen. Someone get Piper out of those goddamned clothes now. Anyway, Phoebe makes with the leaping kick. Mr. (Hewitt) simply catches her in his arms before erupting into another swirling cloud of sand as the camera spins around the space the two have just vacated. Not a bad effects shot, that. Raige, Piper, and the Dolt gape at the sand smoking on the asphalt before the oncoming commercials wallop the Dolt in the jaw.