First off, many thanks to Djb for covering for me last week. Welcome to my hell, pal. Sorry you couldn't stay, but I know how busy the Roswell Circle of Hell Dante somehow neglected to mention keeps you. Oh, and by the way: leave Julian McMahon alone in the future. There are some things that just can't be explained, I suppose. Don't get me started on Simon from Go.
This week's "This week on Charmed" segment ends with "And now, an all-new Charmed, directed by Shannen Doherty." The woman in question lies back on an ottoman in front of the "WB Thursday" sign, looking very smug and pleased with herself. Honey, I've already seen this episode twice. With all of those slow-motion shots you inserted, I'd say it would be more accurate to claim you directed a third of an episode rather than a full one, so wipe that self-satisfied grin off your face. Now.
The crow from The Stand flutters his way down onto the branch of a dead tree. I wait for the Blue Oyster Cult to crank up on the soundtrack and look for the poor, doomed Campion family as they frantically scramble to escape the Super Flu in their beat-up Pinto. All I get is some new-age tootling on a flute and a Lexus winding its way through a very dead ghost town. Dammit. As the Lexus pulls to a stop in the middle of the ghost town's main drag, Chuckles the Crow caws and flutters up and away from the scene. Good thinking on Chuckles's part, as the Lexus doors open to reveal Phoebe and her father, Victor. "All right, Dad," Phoebe says. "Spill it. What are we doing here?" Victor protests that he just wanted some "quality time" with his youngest daughter, but Phoebe's not having it. She's inherited a lot of her father's attributes, she claims, including his penchant for "fibbing." They link arms and walk casually down the dirt street, chuckling. Victor takes his turn at this week's unnecessary exposition, asking Phoebe for the 411 on the Dolt. Upon hearing the Dolt met Piper when he was working as "a handyman" around the manor, Victor mutters some doubts about his little girl's taste for the blue-collar type. Daddy Dearest, there is a host of things you should have a problem with as far as the Dolt is concerned, but the color of his collar on the job should most certainly not be included in that. Phoebe blithers on about how the Dolt isn't just helpful around the house, but Victor cuts her short with, "Believe me, it's much better for a mortal to know he's marrying a witch before the wedding instead of after." That low-wattage bulb that resides in the deep recesses of Phoebe's brain glows a bit as she repeats, "Mortal," and adds, "Right."
Phoebe's little Lionel train of thought is derailed at that moment by an off-screen noise that apparently only she can hear. Ruh roh! She glances up and down the deserted street for the source of the sound, and we're treated to a shot of a lonely tumbleweed skittering forlornly past a door banging in the breeze. Phoebe supposes the noise was "nothing" and goes on to state, "I guess that's why they call it a 'ghost town.'" Victor pulls up short, asking Phoebe if she's had one of those premonitions he's heard so much about. Phoebe calls him on this, and demands he tell her what's really going on. Victor, it seems, is interested in investing in the site, but wanted Phoebe to check it out first to see if "the stories" about the town are true. Phoebe wants to know exactly what "the stories" are. Daddy Dearest fills her in: he means "ghost stories," and explains that "something's been keeping people from investing in and razing this place for over a hundred years." Something like "historic preservation," perhaps? Oh, right. This is California we're talking about. Carry on, then. Vic says he thought Phoebe could do a little "feng shui" survey of the site to help him out. Phoebe snippily replies that feng shui is not her bag, baby, and adds that she can't conjure premonitions at will.
More off-screen noises put a temporary halt to the exposition. Phoebe notes the tinkling of breaking glass and wheels around in time to see the spectral figure of a man being flung through the doors of the town saloon. A ghostly cowboy-type in a black vest with matching hat emerges from the saloon and intones, "You're a dead man, Bo," as he approaches the Native American gentleman lying on the ground. Phoebe confirms Victor can neither see nor hear any of this, then turns her attention back to the spirit yokels. Phoebe barks at Cowghost Curtis, demanding to know what's going on. Cowghost Curtis ignores her, as any self-respecting spectral type would do, I suppose. He strides over to SpectraBo on the ground and insists, "No one crosses Mr. Sutter," as he yanks SpectraBo to his feet. Cowghost Curtis lands a punch on SpectraBo's mouth, sending SpectraBo flying backwards through Phoebe. Phoebe gasps in stunned pain as she collapses back into Victor's arms. SpectraBo scampers off down the main drag. Cowghost Curtis lopes along behind him, firing off a couple of shots at SpectraBo's retreating form. Phoebe yodels, as is her wont in stress-filled situations. The ghoulish yokels vanish. Victor starts to ask Phoebe what's going on, but stops when he notices she has a split lip. "I wouldn't buy the place, Dad," she offers by way of reply. "Really, really bad feng shui." ["Doesn't she mean 'really bad chi'? Just wondering." -- Sars] They gaze off down the main drag of the town as Phoebe pants and dabs at her lip with a handkerchief. Cut to Chuckles the Crow, who apparently has been watching this whole time from a perch on the porch of the hotel. He dejectedly fluffs himself up a bit and croaks out a caw or two, no doubt understanding exactly how contrived this evening's events will be. Listen, buddy, you're well on your way to gaining more screentime in one episode than Dorian Gregory's had all season, so quit bitching. Chuckles banefully turns his little head to the camera as if to tell me to shove it, and we sweep to the credits. You better watch your back, Chuckles.
Note to the hacks who pulled together the promos for Sweet November: the phrase "confirmed bachelor" is used only to indicate that the gentleman concerned has an eye for the guys, so unless you're making some sort of snarky meta-comment on Keanu Reeves's purported private life, drop it.
Manor. Flowers in full bloom on the trees outside. In San Francisco. In February. Maybe I should move there, rolling blackouts be damned. Inside the house, Piper adjusts a carefully-folded napkin on a place setting in the dining room. Prue, clad in a fugly pink top with a gold floral pattern winding its way around and between her breasts, moves to Piper's side. Prue notes that they have an extra place setting. Piper begs to differ. Prue runs down the guest list, which includes the sisters, the Dolt, and Victor. Five guests, six settings. What gives? Piper finally allows the sixth is for their mother, whom Piper hopes can attend her wedding "in spirit." Prue grins, "Of course she can," and the two snuggle as the Dolt orbs in behind them. "Looks great," enthuses the Dolt. "When do we eat?" Piper chides the Dolt for interrupting their "sister moment" then tells him she needs his help to finish the preparations for the "rehearsal dinner." Prue asks him if he's nervous, given that the wedding is seven days away, and I glare in the general direction of the writers, who apparently have never attended a rehearsal dinner before. Rehearsal dinners are held a night or two before the ceremony, ladies, and they generally follow an actual rehearsal of the ceremony itself. I understand it is your habit to cram as much exposition and backstory into the first fifteen minutes of each episode as possible so that each episode is syndication-ready, but please. There had to be a simpler way to clue the comatose among us in on both the impending wedding and Piper's desire for her mother's ghost to appear.
Anyway, in answer to Prue's question, the Dolt notes that as long as no demons drop by the manor for a visit, he's "fine." Cue Daddy Dearest, who enters with Phoebe. Piper: "You had to jinx it." Demian: "Shut up. All of you. Shut. UP." Prue, Piper, and the Dolt move into the hall to greet the arrivals. A concerned Prue asks Phoebe what happened to her lip as Piper shoots an accusatory "Dad" at her father. Phoebe explains that it's nothing. She "got into a bar brawl," she tells them, then modifies that to say that two "transparent" cowboys were actually doing the fighting. Piper wonders exactly how hard Phoebe hit her head. Snerk. The Dolt moves in to apply the tingly touch, but Phoebe tells him to back off, insisting she's fine. She then turns to her father, asking him to bring in the "town files" from the front porch so they can research the possible sources of that afternoon's apparition. After Victor is out of the house, Phoebe drops the bomb: "Dad doesn't know Leo is a Whitelighter," she hisses. Prue and the Dolt turn incredulously to Piper, who claims she was going to let Vic in on the secret, but as their mother had an affair with her Whitelighter, she didn't think their father would understand. I don't understand why they're foisting this plot point onto us, as they went to great lengths to make it clear in "We All Scream for Ice Cream" that Victor ditched his family over a fight he'd had with Grams. Whatever. I smell manly wacky hijinks in the very near future, and the stench is making me gag already.
The Dolt insists that Victor will kill him when he finally finds out. Piper gets in a good one with her dismissive reply of, "Oh, don't be ridiculous. You're already dead." Victor returns, carrying a box of rolled-up documents. He says that the items are merely investment materials, and doesn't see how they would be of any use. Phoebe states rather randomly that when SpectraBo fell through her, she ended up with the same bloody wound he had. The Dolt asserts that "ghosts don't bleed," then backtracks when Piper gives him the stink-eye, claiming such matters are not really his "area of expertise." Victor agrees that matters witchy are not his strongest point either, and suggests the Dolt join him for lunch while the three Ps hash things out in the manor. The Dolt hesitates, but Victor insists, calling him "son" in the process. The Ps shoo them out the front door. Piper claims she's dead if their father finds out what the Dolt really does from nine to five, but Prue supposes they should deal instead with the ghostly issue at hand. Phoebe offers to retrieve the Book of Shadows from the attic. Piper calls dibs on that task, and heads off into the kitchen to mix herself a stiff cocktail. Word, sister. Phoebe smirks at her, then winces in pain from her lip as she heads with Prue into the parlor.
Cut to a diner for a little man-to-man with Victor and the Dolt. No, not like that. If you want that kind of action, switch over to Queer as Folk. The Dolt nervously chugs down a glass of water as Victor starts in with "so I hear you're a handyman," and I smirk as I think of all the ways Emmett Honeycutt could twist that statement around. Bamp chicka bamp bamp, indeed. The Dolt notes he's actually a doctor -- "a counselor-kind-of-doctor. I guide people." Victor wonders if there's good money in that sort of profession, and the Dolt allows that no, there isn't, but he's happy because it's his "calling." There's a tasteless priest joke in there somewhere, but I'm trying to keep this PG-13, so I'll pass. Victor cuts to the chase, telling the Dolt there's something he needs to discuss with him -- wait for it -- "man-to-man." The Dolt fidgets in his seat, repeating that last bit. Victor modifies, "Well, from one mortal to another," and smiles. The Dolt holds his breath. Victor launches in on his Problems With Patty, otherwise known as Piper's mom. Again, the idea that his marriage collapsed because he refused to allow his daughters to be placed in harm's way is jettisoned in favor of the Whitelighter-as-homewrecker non-plot non-point they've chosen to tart up in cheap scent and slingbacks and run with this evening. Warning the Dolt of dangers worse than warlocks and demons, Victor pokes a finger in the Dolt's face and asks, "Leo. Do you know what a Whitelighter is?" Dun-dun-dun! Not. The Dolt stammers a "Whuh?" as we cut back to the manor.
Pan across various yellowed documents and up to Phoebe's exposed abs. She sports an enormous purplish bruise on her side, and winces when Prue touches it. Prue guesses Phoebe got the bruise the same way she received her split lip. Phoebe doesn't think it's exactly fair that some ghost gets the shit kicked out of him and she has to suffer for it. Piper, paging through the BoS, wishes she knew what to look for. Phoebe clues her in on the whole "Mr. Sutter" thing, and suggests Piper investigate any demons of that name. Prue cuts them both off with a discovery she's made while leafing through the town records: all records of any kind stop after April 25, 1873. Land grants, death certificates, everything. "It's almost as if time just stopped," she notes. Piper wonders if this means everyone just dropped dead at the same moment. For Prue, it's as if "time stopped moving forward," and she reminds the other two of "Time Loops" they've encountered in the past. Phoebe dismisses this, reminding her that they "vanquished that demon." Piper tells them both to hold up for a moment as she checks the entry on Time Loops in the BoS. The entry allows that not all Time Loops are caused by demons. She reads, "Certain spiritual traditions believe that a great Evil or great Injustice can be cursed into a Time Loop until righted." I wonder what the Native American term for "Groundhog Day" is. Phoebe translates Piper's information to mean the sisters must right some past wrong. Prue agrees, but doesn't do this by saying, "Duh," as I would have. Prue adds they have to determine what to do before Phoebe's "symptoms get worse."
Ding-dong! Demon calling! Prue answers the front door to find Cole. I must pause in the recap to say, "Hooray! Cole's back!" Well, for me, at any rate. I must also admit he looks like something the cat dragged in, proceeded to gnaw on for a bit, then vomited up all over the good linen in the guest room. He hasn't shaved for days, and he's wearing a red v-neck sweater under a pervert flasher's raincoat. He still gets a good line, though. Brushing past Prue while carrying an armload of flowers, he deadpans, "Hey. Prue. Long time no see. Is Phoebe home?" Snerk. Prue gets in a better one as we cut to a shot of Piper attending to Phoebe's bruise on the couch. Prue TKs Cole down the hallway behind her sisters, who hoot and yodel in distress. Snerk, again. Cole recovers quickly, rising to his feet above the vanquished-again marble-topped entry table with a smile on his face, offering the flowers to Phoebe. Phoebe bats them down to his side as Prue asks him if he has "a death wish." Cole replies that he "told Phoebe last week [he] wasn't giving up on her." Prue and Piper make angry noises about Phoebe talking to Cole without telling them. Phoebe tells the other two Ps she neglected to mention her dealings with Cole because she told him in no uncertain terms to buzz off and leave her alone for good. "In that case," Prue says, preparing to lay another TK smackdown on his fine-if-a-bit-disheveled ass. Piper stops her, telling her they don't have time to purchase another dining-room table before that evening's rehearsal dinner. Cole reassures the three that he's given up his evil powers forever, as he'll "be good" that way. You're good any damn way you choose, Cole, but I think I've said more than enough about that, so I'll just move this along, shall I? Prue reminds him that, as a demon, he'll always be evil. Cole reminds her that he's merely half a demon, and asks with genuine concern about Phoebe's split lip. Phoebe reminds them all that she's very tired of this discussion, but before she can firmly strap on her bitch, she's flung into a vision. SpectraBo runs down the ghost town's main drag, but stops short for some reason. He spins around and tosses a hunting knife into Cowghost Curtis's chest, and they both collapse. Close-up on Phoebe, who stands in the hall, stunned. Piper casually asks her what she saw. Phoebe snipers into her sisters' arms and then to the ground. She breathes heavily, "I think [gasp pant]. I've been [pant pant wheeze]. SHOT [gasp gasp pant pant gasp pant wheeze]." She raises her [gasp gasp] bloodied fingers [pant pant] for general inspection [gasp gasp pant and wheeze], and we cut [did I mention the gasping and the panting?] to [and the wheezing? Did I mention that, too?] commercial.
Back from commercial, we're back in the diner, where Victor is busily spackling the scenery with more overdone warnings about the Whitelighters' deceptive and seductive ways. He calls Whitelighters "sneaky little bastards," and as far as the Dolt is concerned, I'll give Victor the "bastard" bit. The Dolt, barely masking his identity, reassures Victor that Piper told him Whitelighters are more like "guardian angels." Vic dismisses this as "the party line," and tells the Dolt his marriage failed because Patty got her groove back with her own Whitelighter. The Dolt notes that Patty's affair began after she and Victor had already split. Vic denies this, telling the Dolt Patty's orbmeister "put the moves" on her long before the separation. Vic claims Patty's tingly-touch lovebeast prevented him from reconciling with her. "And then -- and then she died," he stammers in conclusion. The Dolt looks down and sighs. Vic starts, "Look, my point is," but he's interrupted by The Powers That Be ringing the Dolt's bell. "Uh oh," the Dolt intones. "I have to go. And I don't think you're going to like the way I have to go, either." The Dolt looks around briefly and orbs up out of the booth. Victor gapes.
Manor parlor. Phoebe pants some more, lying on her side on the couch. Piper and Prue huddle protectively over her as Cole stands off to the side in front of the mantel. The Dolt orbs in to Cole, and demands to know why he's in the manor. Prue tells the Dolt to ignore Cole. "Phoebe's been shot," she tells him, and the Dolt kneels in front of Phoebe to administer the tingly touch to the bullet wound in her side. The tingly touch does not take. A round of befuddlement for everyone in the parlor. The Dolt tells Phoebe to recount precisely the events that led to her injury. She tells him about SpectraBo taking one for the team in her premonition. The Dolt supposes Phoebe has some sort of "psychic connection" with SpectraBo, and her injuries are a physical manifestation of that. He cannot heal Phoebe, because SpectraBo is the one who is really injured. Cole determines that SpectraBo must be "magical" as well, otherwise Phoebe and he would not have this close a connection. The Dolt agrees. Cole notes further that they must find and somehow heal SpectraBo before more damage is done to Phoebe. Piper snits SpectraBo was tossed into a Time Loop with the rest of the town, and they have no idea how to find any of the people involved. Cole tells her SpectraBo and his playmates are in "a parallel plane existing in the same physical place as the town." Prue rises to her feet and tells Cole to shut it: "I don't think we need any more demonic advice."
Cole strides over to her and stares her down, telling her that with Phoebe's life on the line, the sisters can use all the help they can get. The Dolt asks Cole to continue. Cole reveals that he's been hiding from The Source by squiggling from plane of existence to plane of existence. The solution to the current problem is the simple matter of squiggling into SpectraBo's plane, grabbing him, then squiggling back to the sisters' plane so the Dolt can heal him. Phoebe asks why Cole can't just squiggle with the Dolt to SpectraBo's side. The Dolt tells her he can't collaborate with demons. Prue volunteers her services instead. She'll head to the parallel plane with Cole while Piper and the Dolt head to the ghost town to search for more clues. Phoebe's left to bleed to death on her own on the expensive sofa in the parlor. Cole, extending his open palm: "You gotta hold my hand." Prue: "This already sucks." Snerk. They squiggle out of the parlor as Victor storms in through the front door, angrily shouting for the Dolt. Piper tells her father to can it, instructs him to care for Phoebe, then orbs out with the Dolt. Victor, spluttering: "Well…whuh?" Phoebe, pouting: "Well, don't get mad at me -- I've been shot." Again, snerk.
Prue and Cole squiggle into Frontierland. The yokels ignore them, despite the fact that Prue is dressed like the sort of hard-core taste-free floozy few -- if any -- of them have ever seen in their long Frontierland lives. As Prue expresses her amazement that Cole's squiggling action worked, Chuckles caws from above and flaps his baleful way into the sky, and a gunshot fires in the background. Cole yanks Prue back into the semi-darkened alley in which they first appeared, muttering, "Welcome to the wild, wild west." That line is so beneath your dignity. And mine. Prue reminds Cole that she's in charge of the mission, and he's just along as her "ride." He asks her if she has a plan. She replies, "Find Bo." "That's it?" "You have a better one?" Cole allows that he might, but first they need to change into more appropriate clothing. Prue wonders where they will find such appropriate apparel. Turns out Cole squiggled them in to the local undertaker's, and there's a freshly-dead arrival at that moment. Cole indicates the corpse, and Julian McMahon mangles his line so badly, I still have no idea what was said even after rewinding through it six times. Too bad. I think it was supposed to be a joke. Then again, with what passes for jokes all-too-frequently on this show, maybe it's a good thing I didn't understand him.
Cut to the saloon interior. Cole and Prue enter all Butch and Slut-Dance with their heads bowed. As if we don't know who they are. Whatever. He looks like the Marlboro Man. She looks like she's desperately attempting to pull off a Sharon Stone in The Quick and the Dead and failing miserably. Cole thinks Prue should've worn "that pretty red dress drying on the line," and I wonder if Djb was on to something when he said that "the very notion of kissing a girl is beyond [Cole's] realm of comprehension" in last week's recap. Prue replies that the dress belonged to "a prostitute," and she doesn't want to make that kind of impression here in Frontierland. So, that explains your usual manner of dress…how exactly, Prue? More tedious banter about their clothes; then they head to the bar. As they approach, Prue reminds Cole that they're on a "fact-finding" mission, and that they are not to "get involved." Barkeep Barney brightly asks them, "What'll it be?" "Moonshine," Prue answers. Barkeep Barney shoots her a look like she just horked her paté into the Waterford punchbowl at a reception for the Prince of Wales. Cole corrects her, ordering whiskey for both of them. "You watch too many old movies," he murmurs in her ear, adopting a goofy grin. "And you'd be confusing me with Phoebe," she snits back. "Not a chance," he replies, and turns his attention back to Barkeep Barney.
Barkeep Barney, making conversation, wants to know if the two are "passing through." Cole allows as how they might be, and asks about the current state of affairs in the town. Barney tells them Frontierland is going to hell in a handbasket. Seems the kids these days prefer that Epcot Center instead. He offers them a bit of "friendly advice: wet your whistle [sic], get back on your horses, and move on as fast as you can." Prue, immensely irritated that Barney has been ignoring her during this exchange, snots out, "Hi. What am I? A potted plant?" Don't set me up with easy ones like that, sweetie. Barney assures her that the town's troubles are nothing she should "worry [her] pretty little head about." Pretty? Maybe. Little? Not hardly, Barney. Prue snorts an "okay, that's condescending," as Cole reminds her to keep a low profile. He asks Barney to provide further details. Barney tells them there's trouble a-brewin' with a powerful man in town. "Sutter?" Prue asks, and responds to Barney's look of surprise with, "This 'pretty little head' knows a lot." See above for comment on the pretty-and-little thing. Barney tells them that one of Sutter's enforcers was killed earlier in the day, and "now there's gonna be hell to pay" as a result.
Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity as Sutter's three surviving enforcers enter the saloon, six-shooters and rifles at the ready. Prue, Cole, and Barney turn to gaze warily at the new arrivals, and the shot reveals that Prue's wearing a tight, midriff-revealing white top that I think would definitely have qualified as a lady's undergarment back in 1873. So much for not looking like a hooker. There's a filler shot of a pensive Native American woman that I mention only because she comes into play later, and then we cut to the first of an endless series of slow-motion sequences. This one is accompanied by twanging, rattling music so similar to Jamey Sheridan's ooky theme in The Stand that I keep waiting for Chuckles to flap his dejected little way into the frame. Black boots with vicious spurs jangling in slow motion on the dusty boardwalk outside. Prue, Cole, and Barney gazing bleakly. In slow motion. Slow-motion pan up black-clad legs to black-clad arms black-claddedly swinging open the saloon doors in ominously black-clad slow motion. Black-hatted head of black-clad bald man whose eyes, black with Capital-E Eeeevil, survey the scene in the bar as his black string tie flaps slowly in the slow-motion breeze. It goes on and on.
And on and on and on.
I realize baldness runs in my family, but I know I still had a full head of hair when this sequence began. I wipe stray tufts of my now-grey locks off the keyboard to report that when this Tower of Malevolence, this Paragon of Menace, this, um, Acme of, uh, Moral Turpitude finally, at long last, swaggers his slow-moving ass into the bar, he drawls -- yes drawls -- out, "Whea-uh izz hee?" That's it. If this dirtbag is going to talk in slow motion too, you fine people are going to have to settle for a drastically-shortened version of any event in which he is involved. I don't have that much money in my pension fund, and I think I'll be looking into retirement communities in Coral Gables by the time this episode is over. Sutter -- for this is indeed The Man Himself -- mentions casually (read: drawls interminably) he "took the lih-buhh-tee" of preprinting that evening's newspaper, which he displays to the assemblage gathered in the saloon. The headline blares "HALF-BREED TO DIE AT SUNDOWN." I titter to myself, thinking it's about time someone stuck it to Cher. Then again, as she herself has noted, the only things that will be left on the planet in the event of a nuclear war are "cockroaches and Cher," so maybe we shouldn't get our hopes up.
Sutter catches sight of Miss Indian Territory 1869 and sidles over to her, flapping the paper in her face. He asks her for the whereabouts of her "little brother." She coolly tells him she wouldn't tell him if she knew, and adds that she's "not afraid of [Sutter]." Sutter replies that she would be afraid of him if she were smart, but "then again, [her] kind never are." Okay, so he's clad in black, southern, corrupt, racist, and Eeeevil. WE GET IT. Nominate and confirm him for Attorney General of the United States and get on with it already. Sutter zeroes in on an extremely pale yokel at the bar, who insists he hasn't seen Bo at all. Raising his coiled bullwhip threateningly, Sutter tells "Cal," "You lie to me again, and I'll do worse than this." An enforcer jams a hunting knife through Cal's hand into the bar. Prue slams the enforcer through a card table. She wraps her scarf around Cal's hand as she wonders aloud, "What's wrong with you people?" Sutter oozes more threats, this time aimed her way. Prue pronounces the entire situation "cliché," and since Shannen directed this episode, I suppose she knows of what she speaks. The toppled enforcer rises to his feet, surmising that it's okay for him to hit Prue, as she's "dressed like a man." Except for that slut top, of course, but then again, it does look like a blouse Emmett Honeycutt would try to get away with at Babylon, so who knows? She beats him to the ground and smashes a whiskey bottle over his head. The other two enforcers take aim, but Prue pulls one of those (clichéd) right-hand-over-left maneuvers with her six-shooters, blasting the gun out of one enforcer's hand. Cole -- in the only cool slo-mo shot of the evening, derivative though it is -- sweeps his right hand up from the bar and approaches the other enforcer with a nasty-looking shotgun. Sutter calls his boys off, telling them they'll "deal with these two later." More threats. More drawling. Sutter and the Boys leave. Miss Indian Territory 1869 beams broadly at Prue and Cole as Cole snorts, "So much for laying low."
Commercial. Fah-nuh-leeee.
Miss Indian Territory 1869 backstories as she leaves the saloon with Prue and Cole. Sutter has ties to the railroad industry, and initially arrived in town promising to "bring the tracks through." In return, he wanted a cut of the profits of every business in Frontierland. The yokels at first resisted, then caved when Sutter murdered the sheriff. Just wait: pretty soon we're going to find out everyone's last name is "Johnson," and Mongo will come to realize he is "only pawn in game of life." If they start punching the horses in the head, I'm out of here. Same if Cookie serves them all beans around the campfire. Anyway, Bo is the only person who has consistently resisted Sutter's efforts to take over the town, and is therefore perceived as a threat who must be destroyed. Miss Indian Territory 1869 finally gets a name as Prue reassures "Isabel" that she and Cole can help Bo if Isabel will only trust them. Isabel offhandedly notes that she does trust them. Bo, it appears, received a vision of the arrival of "two strangers" in one of his dreams. Isabel pointedly eyes Prue's get-up on the word "strangers," which immediately makes her my new TV girlfriend. Isabel tells them Bo inherited "The Gift" from their father, a medicine man of some renown who died when they were children. Their mother forbade Bo from ever discussing The Gift with strangers, as she understood the fear of magic that is endemic "in the white man's world." Prue and Cole both get in lines about knowing what it's like to be on the outside looking in, and the world's smallest guitar strums sadly for them in the background. Isabel smiles in acknowledgement of this, and leads the two to horses she's had ready for their visit. Cole proposes they "eliminate the threat first" by offing Sutter, thereby canceling the curse by default. Prue responds they can't be certain that will solve things, and adds that if Cole truly wants to join the forces of good, he needs to check his impulse to vanquish first and ask questions later. Makes ya think, don't it, Cole? Have I mentioned yet that Cole is wearing the white hat and Prue is wearing the black one? See what they're doing there? Huh? Whatever. Isabel, Prue, and Cole ride off down the main street as Cal scuttles over to his horse behind them.
Chuckles appears, languidly flapping and cawing his way back into the current dimension. Or "plane of existence." Your choice, people. Chuckles perches on the roof of the abandoned sheriff's office, where he lights a cigarette to while away the hours until his presence is again requested on-set. Piper and the Dolt emerge, with Piper bitching (natch) about the utter lack of clues to be found in town. "There's nothing here," she moans, "but spiders and lizards and a stupid old crow." Chuckles mutters a "dammit" to himself under his breath, flips his lit cigarette into his mouth with his tongue, and flaps over the street. I've never been able to do that trick. I hope he doesn't burn the inside of his beak. Piper and the Dolt blather needlessly about the wedding as Chuckles lands on the roof of the saloon. Piper makes the connection between saloons and smackdowns in the traditional (clichéd) Western, and heads into the bar with the Dolt. Chuckles puffs away contentedly while balancing his checkbook. Once in the bar, the Dolt makes unfunny with a remark about "Hankin's Nerve Tonic" helping Victor accept his soon-to-be son-in-law while Piper shuffles through some trash on the bartop. The Dolt espies a discarded newspaper with Sutter's "Half-Breed" headline. Piper reads the headline, and we discover apropos of nothing that Bo and Isabel's last name is "Lightfeather." The Dolt warns Piper that they must find a way to warn Prue and Cole that they have until sundown, and not midnight, to fix things in the parallel dimension. Since Prue and Cole saw the damn paper themselves, I don't understand what this particular "plot twist" has to do with anything. Piper underscores the fact that Phoebe could die at sundown, and we cut over to the manor.
Manor parlor. The clock reads 12:20 PM, so again I don't understand where this whole sense of "urgency" is coming from. Victor helps Phoebe sip from a glass of water. She looks despondent, and Victor asks what's wrong. The camera zooms in slowly on her face as she shudders out, "[gasp pant shiver swallow choke pant pant wheeze shiver choke gasp swallow] I'm [wheeze groan gasp pant splutter shiver swallow choke pant pant gasp wheeze] dying." Mournful violin as Victor attempts to reassure her she'll be fine. The camera keeps zooming in on her face as she tells him, basically, no, she won't be fine. They've done a pretty good job on her make-up for this bit. Her pale face is plastered with the sheen of death-sweat, and her eyes are glazed and sunken with pronounced bags. Too bad it's taking her so goddamned long to wheeze out her lines, because it's a decently-played scene by the two of them otherwise. Victor again assures Phoebe that neither her sisters nor he are about to sit idly by and let her die. Piper and the Dolt orb in, with Piper asking Victor how Phoebe's doing. Victor firmly grips his one-way ticket to Denial and again insists, "She'll be fine." Piper lays it all on the line: Phoebe has to somehow will a premonition of Bo's death from the newspaper. Chances are good that Bo will pick up the vision and let Prue and Cole know they have until the sun sets to save him and, by extension, Phoebe. Phoebe weakly protests that she cannot summon premonitions of her own volition. Piper tells her she has to try, and hands her the broadsheet. Phoebe ineffectually grasps at it, shuddering and shivering some more.
Frontierland. Isabel leads the horses to the paddock as Prue and Cole hiss and scratch at each other. Prue expects him to get lost for good after this adventure is over, or the sisters will be forced to vanquish him. He counters that a vanquish is the only thing that will keep him away from Phoebe. Isabel pops over, asking if they're ready to meet her brother. Sensing the tension, she asks if they need a moment. Prue tells her everything's fine, and they head inside the abandoned chapel in which Bo has been hiding. Doves in the rafters. Painted-glass representations of medieval saints. An abandoned cross props a window shut, and while I don't really believe that's intentional, it does say a bit about the place of "the white man's world" in these people's lives in spite of itself. I think. I'm probably just reading far too much into it. As they approach the semi-conscious Bo, Isabel backstories again that she tried to remove the bullet herself, but it had lodged too deeply in her brother's flesh. Bo comes to and immediately bitches Isabel out for leading strangers to his hiding place. Prue tells him that she and Cole are the same people he dreamt about. Bo bitches at Isabel some more for revealing The Gift to some two-bit chaps-clad chippie and her pimp. Well, he doesn't say it exactly like that, but that's what he meant, I'm sure. Prue explains about Phoebe's premonitions. Bo's still not having it and pulls a knife on them, again ordering them to leave. Cole states firmly that he and Prue "are not going anywhere." Bo recognizes the Capital-E Eeeevil in Cole's eyes, and tells them Sutter has the same look in his. Cole rolls his eyes guiltily as Prue tosses a glare his way. Prue encourages Bo to look at her instead, as he won't find the Capital-E Eeeevil in her gaze. Isabel expositions about Sutter and the Time-Loop curse. Prue proposes a deal: if she and Cole can convince Bo they too have "gifts," Bo will accept their assistance. Prue orders Cole to squiggle, which he does from her left side to her right. Isabel and Bo gawp at him.
Cut to Sutter's office, where he flicks his bullwhip in slow-motion and shatters an empty bottle. The three flunkies enter and tell him they haven't been able to locate Bo. Sutter drawls out railroad-profit-related threats until Cal walks in to reveal he followed Isabel, Prue, and Cole to the abandoned chapel. Sutter orders the flunkies to get organized as we cut back to Prue. "The first thing we need to do is get that bullet out of you," she tells Bo as she kneels by his side. She warns him that what she's about to do is going to sting like a mo-fo. Prue TKs the bullet out of the hole in Bo's side, and he screams in pain. Flash-cut to Phoebe screaming as well. Flash again to Phoebe's newest premonition of Bo being whipped to the ground on the main drag by Sutter while Isabel, restrained by one of the enforcers, wails futilely in the background. Yokels, including Barkeep Barney, look on in impotent disgust. Sutter pulls out a gun and shoots Bo. Isabel screams. Chuckles stubs out his cigarette and puts away his checkbook to return for his one big scene. Lightning forks through the sky as Chuckles caws and puffs up and flaps his wings around all "Look upon me and despair, for I am the Great and Powerful Chuckles, and all y'all are officially fucked." You the man, Chuckles. Flash back to Phoebe gasping and gripping her side. Flash again onto Bo, who has received Phoebe's premonition. "I believe you," he tells them, and we cut to commercial.
Fade in on the manor parlor, where Phoebe is still gasping and howling in pain and terror while Piper and the Dolt try to comfort her. She shudders out her version of her vision, making excessive use of the word "horrible." She's asked if she believes Bo saw it all as well. She tells them she's certain he did. Victor demands to know what they do . The Dolt tells him all they can do is wait. Victor launches into a tirade in which he basically denigrates the Dolt for being a useless, ineffective prat, standing off to the side while his baby dies on the couch. Piper attempts to tell her father to put a sock in it, but he's not having it. He again accuses the Dolt of doing nothing. The Dolt replies that he is "doing something by trusting [Victor's] other daughter, Prue" to take care of things. He tells Victor that neither Prue nor Cole will allow fatal harm to come to Phoebe. Victor snarks about being reduced to trusting a demon. The Dolt notes Cole's love for Phoebe. Phoebe herself attempts to allay her father's doubts, asserting through gasping sobs of pain that the demon loves her "as much as" she loves him. Victor shuts up, but still looks like he's not buying it.
Cut to horses' hooves pounding in slow motion through the muddied main drag of Frontierland. Pounding, pounding, pounding. Come on, Shannen, end this already. The nurse the geriatric hospice sent to my apartment is telling me it's time for my medications and a nap. Pounding, pounding, pounding. Also, whinnying. Cut finally to Prue rolling the chamber of her six-shooter down her forearm in the Abandoned Chapel of Minority Empowerment. Isabel admires Prue's quick grasp of the basics of Western clichés as Sutter's Boys ride up outside. Cole reports this latest development, guessing someone followed them on their initial ride over. He offers to squiggle Bo to the Dolt for a dose of the tingly touch, thereby ending this whole sordid mess. Prue coolly replies that healing Bo alone will not lift the Time-Loop curse, the basics of which she explains to Isabel. Cole chides Prue for risking Phoebe's life to save "a town full of cowards." Prue chides back that there is "a greater good at stake here," and that Cole had better learn to serve said "greater good" if he wants "to be good" himself. Enough "goods" for all of you? Good. One of Sutter's Boys calls for Bo's surrender. Blithering between Cole and Prue before Bo rises to shut them up. Bo goes all Magical Native-American Guy (a close relative, it would seem, of Magical African-American Guy in American popular culture). He tells them the curse will fall on the town not because of his death, but because of the cowardice of the Frontierland yokels. Bo must "offer [himself] up," thereby giving the yokels the opportunity to redeem themselves. I suppose all those religious symbols scattered around the Abandoned Chapel of Minority Empowerment are still exerting some sort of influence over Our Man Bo, because it's about time he got down from that damn cross, what with other people needing the wood and all.
Cut to the most abusive bastardization of Christian imagery I've seen since Robert Sean Leonard placed the Puckish Crown of Thorns on his head before killing himself because Daddy wanted him to become an accountant in The Dead Poets' Society. The doors of the Abandoned Chapel of Minority Empowerment open (in -- you guessed it -- slow motion) as Bo the Magical Native-American Guy strides purposefully out to the porch, backlit by white rays of sunlight streaming through the battered rafters of the roof. It gets worse. Five white doves flutter out in formation before him, leading the way to salvation. Bo slowly raises his arms, the perfect image of Magical Native-American Guy self-sacrifice. Three of the doves realize what a steaming crock of shit this all is and launch a sit-down strike on the porch. I pause to applaud the doves' collective sense of good taste.
Flash-cut to the main drag of Frontierland. Sutter's Boys gallop in on their respective horses, one of them dragging Bo the Magical Native-American Guy behind him with a rope. Cal looks conflicted. Barkeep Barney looks conflicted. Three random frontier women and four random frontier men look conflicted. All of these people are white. Sutter stomps over to Bo and cuts him loose from the horse, yelling to the assembled sea of Eurocentricity, "I want you all to see what happens when people cross me." Conflicted prostitute. Conflicted old coot. I hastily set up a shrine to Cleavon Little and pray for him to return to Earth to right this sorry wrong. I'll even pay for Gene Wilder and Mel Brooks. The nurse from the geriatric hospice bats me on the back of my head at that, reminding me that she and her services don't come cheap. Isabel tries to run to Bo's side to put a stop to his torture, but Prue holds her back. Bo rises to his feet, and Sutter starts lashing Bo's back with the bullwhip. More intercut shots of random and conflicted townsfolk. Cut to Phoebe in the manor, where she screams and bucks forward in empathic pain. Cut back to Bo, who stoically accepts blow after blow of the whip. Sutter asks him if he's "too stupid to scream," and flays Bo's back some more. Bo drops to his knees as we cut back to Phoebe, who could take a lesson or two in stoicism from the Magical Native-American Guy. She screams and gasps and cries. Bo rises to his feet again for more of the same from Sutter. Prue launches into a pep talk amongst the townsfolk, telling them they "can't just stand there and watch [Bo] die." Cole joins her, urging the yokels "to do what's right." Sutter pushes Bo to his knees and cocks the hammer on his revolver. Before he can shoot Bo, Barkeep Barney blasts the pistol out of Sutter's hand with his shotgun. The other yokels follow Barney's lead, raising their various weapons and drawing beads on Sutter's head. Bo, on his knees, beams in pride. Shut up, Bo. Sutter reacts to all this by pulling out another gun and grabbing Isabel by her hair. Cole asks Prue if it's time for the two of them to intervene. "Oh, yeah," is her reply.
Sutter releases Isabel and leaps onto his horse. Barney frees Bo, and he and his sister embrace as Prue takes off down the main drag after Sutter. Prue fires off a bullet that manages to startle Sutter's horse. The horse rears, and Sutter drops to the ground in front of the sheriff's office. Prue fires again, hitting Sutter in his shoulder. She dismounts and TKs Sutter through the office door as Isabel and Bo trundle over to her side. Prue tells them Sutter won't be a problem any more. Bo wonders if the curse has been lifted. Prue responds by admiring the sunset, noting she doesn't think "there's been one this beautiful in a hundred and twenty-eight years." They turn at the sound of gunshots coming from the saloon. Cole and one of Sutter's minions fire a couple of rounds at each other until Cole runs out of bullets. The two rise to their feet, the minion menacing, "I'm going to enjoy this. See you in Hell." Cole: "Been there. Done that." The minion draws, but Cole tosses a Flaming Ball Of Death at him. Cole giggles merrily as the minion disappears in a wall of fire, but stops laughing when he turns to find Prue eyeing him with disgust. "Like I said," Prue snits. "Once a demon, always a demon." Get over your self-righteous ass, Prue. You just shot a senior citizen and TKed him through a door. I think Cole can have a little fun as well.
Manor parlor. A fully-recovered Phoebe awaits the return of Cole and Prue with the others. Cole and Prue squiggle in, and the six review the day's events. Phoebe thanks Prue and Cole for saving her life, giving Cole a particularly toothy grin. Piper asks if the Time Loop has been broken. Prue confirms this, and supposes the good people of Frontierland are now free to live out their lives in some sort of parallel existence. What? You mean, they're no longer stuck in the Time Loop, but they still can't return to their original version of 1873? What. The hell. Ever. For once, I'm forced to agree with the Dolt when he tells Victor, "Don't think about it too much. It'll just give you a headache." The same could be said for most of this goddamned show. Feh. I don't have the energy at this point to rip that one apart, so insert your own "faulty cosmology" rant here. Anyway, Piper suggests they all retire to the dining room for the "rehearsal dinner." Cole makes "I should be going" noises, and Prue acidly agrees. Phoebe walks up to Cole with a sweet smile on her face, and playfully asserts that "[he's] not going anywhere." Cole begins to protest, but Phoebe shuts him up with a kiss. Piper and Prue goggle as Victor and the Dolt scan the walls for something else to look at. Phoebe tells Cole, "You're staying right here." Piper, ever the gracious hostess, suggests the six of them head in for dinner. I'd love to be a fly on the wall for the awkward conversation that is certain to take place, but then again, the writers would probably drop the ball on a scene like that. There's a slow pan to one of the windows, and Chuckles flaps in for one final appearance, cawing contentedly to himself. At long last, we fade to black for good.
Thursday: "Charmed. The Wedding." Oh, joy. Can we get a "Not!" up in here? See you week, kids.