From the entirely-justified complaints that appeared on the forums almost from the moment this episode aired regarding tonight's plot crutch, I suspect you already know tonight's secret phrase. Should surgery be required to remove the resulting polyps from your vocal cords, I'm certain Messrs. Spelling and Kern would have no problem covering your medical expenses.
The evening begins with Phoebe cooking in the kitchen. Personally, I find it difficult to believe she knows how to operate a toaster, much less cook an entire meal. Cole enters from the dining room in a rather drab taupe-on-taupe shirt-and-jacket combination. I suppose the recently-vanquished Belthazor was responsible for the character's fashion sense. Pity the demon is gone for good. Or is he? "Hey," Cole begins. "Where is everyone?" Phoebe crosses from behind the center island to fling off her concealing granny apron with a flourish and an accompanying "Surprise!" Beneath the apron she wears a simple and chic little black dress. "You look beautiful," Cole breathes, and while I'll agree that the dress is nice, I must note that Phoebe will need to do something drastic to the rat's nest on her head that's masquerading as a hairstyle before I'll consider applying a similar adjective to her overall appearance. Phoebe thanks Cole for the compliment and adds, "I sent everyone away so we could celebrate." She passes a glass of champagne to a befuddled Cole, who wonders, "What are we celebrating?" Because it's been a full four weeks since the last new episode, and the writers evidently believe this is far too long a period of time for their apparent target audience of Ritalin-scarfing prepubescents to retain the memory of major plot points, Phoebe naturally responds, "You're finally fully human! No more demon half means no more obstacles to our relationship." Number one, Feeble McGloaty, Cole could have been fully human long before the end of last season had you not thrown a hissy in the attic and smashed the Demon Be Gone to the floorboards, and number two, as I am most decidedly not a Ritalin-scarfing prepubescent, I am entirely capable of remembering the small matter of you blowing your boyfriend out of the water when he had the "unmitigated" "gall" to propose to you in the last episode, an all-out-of-proportion response I would deem a considerable obstacle to your relationship had anyone thought to ask my opinion. Which no one has thought to do. So I suppose I should just carry on with the recapping then, shall I?
Phoebe clinks her glass against Cole's and sips. Cole sets his glass on the counter and hesitantly notes that ridding the Manor of the others might not be the best of ideas. He's concerned Phoebe has left herself vulnerable to attack, especially now that he no longer has access to the powers of Belthazor to protect her. Phoebe dismisses his worries and leans in to snack on his neck. Cole gently extracts himself from her embrace. "You don't seem to understand," he tells her. "With The Source injured, you might be in more danger than ever before." Phoebe counters that Cole doesn't understand "that sometimes a girl needs a night off." In an effort to help him "relax" -- if you know what she means, and I think you do -- Phoebe leans in once more to nibble on Cole's ear, neck, and Adam's apple. He melts into her ministrations a bit before abruptly drawing away again. "It's just that without a strong leader, there's anarchy in the underworld." Phoebe rolls her eyes at this buzzkill. Together, Phoebe and Cole recite the litany we've heard since the smiting of the Smoked Bint and the attendant wounding of The Source -- Dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell would normally compete with each other to curry the favor of their leader. With said leader grievously injured, infighting ensues, with various dark demonic forces building "factions" to overthrow and replace The Source. The easiest way to impress a potential faction? Why, offing the Charmed Ones, of course. Which, if I remember correctly, is also the easiest way to impress The Source. And the Triad. And whatever dark overlord the demonic underworld happens to be harboring at the moment. Therefore, the Charmed Ones are always a target, correct? As they have been since the series premiere, yes? And this conversation is simply a waste of my time, right? Thought so.
The timer on the stove chooses this moment to blare its buzzy little signal throughout the kitchen, most likely because it's as irritated with the non-progression of this scene as I am and, as a result, has decided to shut these two up the best way it knows how. Thankfully, the timer succeeds. Cole crosses to the oven and bare-hands the casserole within. Damn. Without his demonic half, he's as stupid as Phoebe. They're called potholders, Cole. Get your girlfriend to knit you a pair for Christmas. Then again, she might poke out an eye with one of the needles, so you'd better just send her to Crate & Barrel instead. Cole tosses the casserole onto the stove and starts flapping his hand around while cursing. Phoebe skitters to his side, wondering if she should summon the Dolt to heal Cole's hand. Because Cole was injured battling a demonic casserole. Cole insists he's fine, then bemoans the fact he "used to be able to hold fire in the palm of [his] hand." Phoebe makes with more of the "but you're human now" nattering before pulling him into a hug. From over her shoulder, Cole pouts, "I'm serious about the factions, Phoebe. If demons join forces --" Phoebe pulls back to level her gaze at his. "I promise you I will worry about the factions first thing in the morning," she states. "But for now," she adds with a lascivious glint in her eye, "I want us to join forces." Oh, ew. You keep your filthy little force to yourself, sweetheart. Ick.
The shot of the two devouring each other's face in the kitchen cuts to one of a neoclassical facade elsewhere in the city. At least, I think we're elsewhere in the city. Given that the gentleman inside is presently addressed as "Congressman," the setting is as likely to be Sacramento. The Esteemed Gentleman From Pismo Beach fumbles his way through a line in a speech he's composing. Pismo Beach fruitlessly repeats the opening phrase "we must join forces" (see what they did there?) once more before collapsing into his chair with a muttered epithet of irritation. A glowy lass clad in a virginal shift fades into view beside the congressman's desk. The picture frames on the wall behind her are dimly visible through her ghostly body, so we are to assume that the congressman is unaware of her presence. The glowy virgin leans forward as if to blow a kiss towards Pismo's bald head as he obliviously mutters away in his seat. Suddenly, Pismo's twisted grimace of frustration morphs into an expression of calm certainty, and he rises to his feet to pronounce, "Joining forces with our friends is simple. Only by working with those we have considered our enemies will we achieve our greater goals." The glowy virgin regards Pismo with warm affection as he continues, "In the coming days we must rise above our differences if we are to reach the level of our convictions." "Reach the level of our convictions"? Whatever. Also, since when did the composition of trite, insipid, meaningless, cynical political boilerplate require (presumably) divine inspiration? You know Peggy Noonan babbles crap like this in her sleep.
Sarcastic clapping emanates from an unseen source to echo through the office. Word, sarcastic clapping. Pismo turns a brow furrowed with confusion just as the sarcastic clapper himself materializes in the middle of Pismo's office. The clapper's manner of entry -- one frame, he's nowhere to be seen; the frame, he's there -- along with the zinging bolt of noise that accompanies said entry, indicates the guy's a warlock. This method of demonic transportation is known amongst the Charmed cognoscenti as "blinking," and much as I would like to refer to it as "zinging" or "zipping" or "beating Chris Matthews with a spiked cudgel," I'll go with "blinking" for simplicity's sake. Anyway, the sarcastic warlock halts his sarcastic clapping to raise a sarcastic eyebrow as Pismo splutters the expected who-are-yous and what-do-you-wants. The warlock swaggers over to the desk with, "As you know, [Pismo], gathering a following requires inspiration." He then cocks his head towards the glowy virgin and adds, "I want your muse." The Muse Of Politically Expedient Generalized Gutless Yammering ("Peggy"), is shocked -- shocked -- that Cocky The Warlock can see her. Cocky puckers his lips to send smoochy noises in her direction, then wiggles his index finger to display a chunky silver mood ring. Peggy identifies this as "The Ring Of Inspiration" and wonders how Cocky acquired it. Cocky thinks a better point to ponder is how Peggy will escape from the ring once he's sucked her into it. Peggy has no time to react to this as Cocky commences with said sucking immediately. Peggy disappears into the ring's inset stone as the stone glows. Pismo decides that now is as good a time as any to ask Cocky, "Who the hell are you talking to?" Cocky just gives Pismo the wicked side-eye. Pismo stomps furiously towards the office door, but Cocky blinks over to block his path. Cocky claims to be doing Pismo a favor by refusing to allow him to leave. "There's nothing worse," he smarms, "than an uninspired politician." Oh, that one's way too easy. I'll toss out "Bloomberg" and let the chips fall where they may. ["You want to tell me about it?" -- Sars] Cocky places his hands on either side of Pismo's head and starts with the demonic frying. Pismo howls and screams and blazes off to Hell as we smash into the opening credits.
Am I alone in being mildly amused that Comedy Central has seen fit to purchase time during Charmed to advertise the new episodes of Absolutely Fabulous? It's good to know that someone somewhere appreciates the connection between the Glamorous Ladies and those gutter-mouthed drag queens.
It's morning in San Francisco. An interminable opening travelogue is underscored by an abominable alterna-testicle crooning, "Somehow you get through to me something I aspire to be -- somehow you make sense of what does not." Just in case that anvil missed your head, as the shot fades over to the Manor, the alterna-testicle wails, "If there's a muuuuuse I'm missing, it would be youuuuu, no question." The wailing comes to an mercifully abrupt end as the scene shifts to the kitchen. Piper pours herself a mug of the dregs from the coffee pot as she engages in some business-related chat on the cordless with "Bev." Phoebe hustles in and snatches the mug from Piper's hand. Were that my mug of coffee, Phoebe would be sporting a size-ten bootprint on her ample derriere right about now. Piper's far more forgiving than I am, unfortunately. She merely snits a bit after hanging up the phone, then joins Phoebe at the table. Upon Phoebe's inquiry as to Cole's whereabouts, Piper reveals he left early to run an unspecified errand. Chatter about Phoebe and Cole's "big date" follows. Sadly, the date did not meet Phoebe's expectations, as Cole "kept talking about demonic factions the whole time." Piper decides the reason for this is Cole's inability to communicate with Phoebe now that the whole rejected marriage proposal issue is out there in the open, being ignored. Chatter about the whole rejected marriage proposal issue, wherein Piper restates her opinion that relationships do not survive such rejections and Phoebe restates her opinion that her rejection of Cole has no bearing on her relationship with him. Whatever. We heard all of this in the last episode. After urging Phoebe to speak once more with Cole about the whole tiresome kerfuffle -- and won't that be a fun scene when it finally arrives -- Piper rises to exit. She has a meeting with Bev at P3 to discuss a "corporate party" Bev plans to hold. "Big money. Total nightmare," Piper notes. You have no idea, Piper. I'd regale you with tales of division heads dressed as Santa, dead drunk at three in the afternoon and groping anything in a skirt -- account executives, waitresses, secretaries, colleagues' wives -- but I've been trying to scour the memories from my mind for too many years to dredge up the precise details in all their horror. I think you get the idea.
Phoebe leaps to her feet to trail after Piper as Piper strides through the ground floor to retrieve her coat from the parlor. Cole's repeated warnings have had the desired effect on Phoebe. She's now worried about possible attacks during Piper's absence. She fills Piper in on the whole demonic coup d'etat brewing down in Hell. According to Piper, "the only good Source is a dead Source," so she's not terribly concerned that dark demonic forces might finish the Ps' job for them. A parallel involving Al-Qaeda, the Northern Alliance, and the United States is just begging to jump into the recap right here, but the political references are becoming too much, even for me, and besides, I think that parallel will fall apart sooner rather than later. In any event, Phoebe continues undeterred, explaining Cole's theory that "the best way for a faction leader to gain the support of the demonic masses" is to off the Glamorous Ladies. And here's where that parallel would have broken down. I think. Phoebe wonders if Piper's day wouldn't be better spent whipping up a "protection potion" in the kitchen. I wonder why it's taken three and a half years for the issue of protection potions to be raised in the first place. Piper begs off, rightly noting that the sisters need the income from the private party more than they need a protection potion that in all likelihood wouldn't work in the first place. And now I'm thinking about missile defense shields. Jesus. Phoebe argues that if Piper can't concoct something to protect the sisters, she could at least find something to protect Cole. Piper rolls her eyes and allows that a protection potion for a regular old Joe like Cole might be possible, then shifts the conversation back to the P3 issue. Piper bitches about Bev's last-minute designs for the corporate function. Seems Bev's got it in her head that a "theme" would be a good idea. Piper, unsurprisingly, hates themes. Phoebe, however, claims to love them. "My prom theme?" Phoebe prompts. "'Almost Paradise'? Totally my idea." I'd snicker, but Phoebe's managed to insert that hideous song in my head. As a result, I'd rather smack her in the teeth. Piper metaphorically does just that by asking, "This is supposed to impress me...how?"
During all of this, Raige has been bouncing up and down the stairs with boxes of her art supplies, depositing them in the hall for disposal. Seems she no longer has time to pursue her hobby, what with her responsibilities in the Manor and THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES and all. The dim little bulb lurking in the dark recesses of Phoebe's mind glows. As Raige is "an artistic, creative type," Phoebe reasons that she and Raige can meet with Piper's client while Piper slaves away in the kitchen. Phoebe trundles Raige towards the front door while perking at Piper, "Us: Theme. You: Potion." Piper grits her teeth and slits her eyes as she counters, "Me: Peeved. You: Annoying." Indeed, Piper. Almost as annoying as those frilly white pantaloons Phoebe's employing as outerwear, but I'm sure I'll have more to say about those later.
Random alley, filled with the shopping carts of the homeless. A mouth-breathing, grime-encrusted victim of the dot-bomb recession shuffles through, gazing around vacantly. Cocky The Wonder Warlock and one of his friends blink in to toss a matching pair of menacing glares at the mouth-breather. In response, the mouth-breather morphs into a clean-shaven, bald demon clad in a monochromatic shirt and tie beneath a black duster. He's so fashion-forward. For 1998. The demon warns the two to back off, as the three are all "on the same side." Cocky's companion snidely compliments the demon on his "glamouring power." The demon brushes past them, claiming he has no room in his schedule for "warlock scum." Cocky presses a hand against the demon's chest and sneers, "We're gonna need to borrow that little trick of yours." Cocky's companion jams a dagger into the demon's chest, causing the demon to explode into flame and disappear. Cocky orders the companion to use the freshly-acquired glamouring ability to murder the Ps and deliver their powers to him. Wait. What? Oh, yeah. Warlocks assume the powers of those they kill. I am loathe to admit how long it took me to remember that pertinent detail. Is it too much to ask for the writers to dispense with the rehashing of major plot points from week to week and instead provide truly relevant background information, like, say, that? Huh?
Anyway, Cocky's companion hesitates. Angrily. He thought Cocky was going to help murder the Ps! Not so. Cocky has a faction to build, warlocks to recruit, powers to steal. You know the drill. Well, then, why should the companion risk his life to satisfy Cocky's desire to become the Source? Cocky pulls an assist from The Mood Ring Of Inspiration And Cheap Platitudes to exhort his companion as follows: "Aren't you tired of living under demonic rule? Of being a second-class citizen? My friend, in the coming days we must rise above our differences if we are to reach the level of our convictions!" Somewhere, I'm sure, Pismo and Peggy weep as one, not least because Cocky's delivery of that line is far more charismatic than Pismo's ever could hope to be. In case this little speech isn't enough to bend the guy to his will, Cocky bedazzles his companion with a ray from The Mood Ring Of Uninspired Contrivance. The companion reacts to the ray as if he's taken a particularly huge bong hit. He smirks with his eyelids at half-mast before blinking out to complete his assignment. Cocky grins to himself as if to say, "What a freaking jackass," then turns to exit the alleyway. The actor playing Cocky seems to be enjoying himself immensely, what with the gleefully campy gnashing of scenery in which he's been indulging thus far this evening. Then again, I suppose I should expect nothing less from the star of Return of the Killer Tomatoes.
P3. Phoebe and Raige convince Bev to go with a 1940s-themed evening, despite Bev's rationale that a 1950s theme would be "a little bit more flashy." Phoebe's selling points are zoot suits, saddle shoes, and patriotism, in that order. You do know that at the time, zoot suits were perceived as the exact opposite of wartime patriotism, don't you? Good. Raige's selling point is that the '50s have been done to death. Bev's still waffling, so Phoebe slyly settles the deal with flattery, telling Bev she has "this kinda Veronica Lake thing going on." I seem to recall Veronica Lake dying of cirrhosis after spending her declining years as an alcoholic waitress in a diner, so, you know, not such a good thing to "kinda" have going on if you know what I mean, Feebs. You might as well tell the poor woman, "You are so Frances Farmer, I just want to run out and get a lobotomy right now!" Bev has the popular-culture memory of a gnat, however, and the Veronica Lake comparison sells her on the whole idea. Phoebe hands Bev some information on an amenable costume shop as the three women rise from their seats. Bev thanks them both and darts up the stairs just as Cole enters the club.
The no-longer-demonic boy toy greets Phoebe and Raige. Phoebe pleasantly razzes him over disappearing from the Manor that morning without telling her. She moves in for a clinch and, for lack of a better way to put this, feels something hard in his pants. Cole steps back and whips a nickel-plated automatic from his waistband. I blush. He's terribly pleased with himself, but the gals are simply terrified. A tiresome PSA follows about the dangers of keeping guns in the house and blah but Cole needs a way to protect himself and his woman and blee and Phoebe will not live in a house with a gun and bleck and shut it already. All of you. The Dolt orbs in to interrupt the conversation. Never did I think I'd be happy to see the Dolt. He comes bearing ill tidings of a rash of disappearing muses. The Powers That Be, needless to say, are most disturbed by this turn of events in the supernatural realm. Only a "very powerful [Eeevil]" could do such a thing. Cole lifts an eyebrow and intones, "Factions." Just then, Cocky's pot-smoking companion blinks in off to the side to spy on the gathering. Phoebe and Raige decide to call the decorator for the party from the Jeep on their way back to the Manor. They pause long enough for Phoebe to wrest the automatic from Cole's hand. Over his shout of protest, Phoebe passes the weapon to the Dolt, asking him to orb it over to Darryl. The Dolt shoots Cole a filthy look, like, shut up, Dolt. Last time I checked, it was still legal to own a firearm. Not that I approve of firearms in the home, you must understand, but still. Cole hasn't shot anyone yet, so cram it. Phoebe, Raige, and Cole head up the stairs as the Dolt orbs out. Over in his alcove, the stoner morphs up into Dolt form and blinks out.
Manor attic. Piper stands at the Book of Shadows, perusing the entry on muses as Phoebe and Raige clomp in from the stairs. Phoebe's first question regards Piper's assigned task of creating a protection potion. Piper hasn't had a chance to perfect it, but she does thank Phoebe and Raige for their successful work with Bev. The three cluster around the Book to read the muses' Beaux-Arts-style entry. Muses are "[b]eings of pure light whose sole purpose is to inspire people's passion and creativity. Like angels, they guide us with an unseen hand of Inspiration. Unlike Whitelighter's [sic, and I know that's going to drive Sars nuts], Muses are invisible even to their charges and can only be seen by other angelic beings." As Phoebe wonders aloud how invisible beings could be a target for dark demonic forces, a glowy muse fades into the attic behind her. You know, I'm torn. I could call her Miss Clio. Or Eroto. Or Erratic, or Thalidomide, or any potty-related variation on "Urania." However, for some reason it's down to a choice between Eutwerpe and Twerpsichore. Since Euterpe was the muse in charge of music and the harebrained writing staff has seen fit to assign this character the name "Melody," Eutwerpe it is. In answer to Phoebe, Piper notes that asking a muse herself might be a good start. Unfortunately, Piper has no idea how to summon a muse. Eutwerpe takes control of the situation by laying a hand on Phoebe's shoulder. Phoebe bursts out with the following rhyme:
Being of creativity,
Show yourself now to me.
Your light which shines upon our face
Let our vision now embrace.
It's a pity Eutwerpe isn't The Muse Of Sensible Fashion Choices, because Phoebe desperately requires assistance in that area right about now. You remember the frilly white pantaloons I mentioned? Well, in addition to those, she's wearing a vibrant red camisole as a top, over which she's buttoned a navy blue fitted denim frock coat, complete with narrow mutton sleeves with lace at the cuffs. Add the black, low-heeled ankle boots on her feet and she's a couple of streaks of war paint away from being one of Adam Ant's whores. Actually, while I'm on the topic of clothing, Eutwerpe's in pretty sad shape herself. Peggy's outfit of choice was a simple, sleeveless full-length dress. Eutwerpe, poor thing, has found herself wrapped in a shapeless and unflattering pastel toga that looks like someone tossed a drop cloth over her head and cut out holes for her arms and her head. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that they were attempting to evoke the garment worn by the Statue of Liberty. It shouldn't surprise you to learn that they failed miserably.
Anyway, once Phoebe has ad-libbed her way through the spell, Eutwerpe The Being Of Pure Light becomes Eutwerpe Incarnate. Piper, Phoebe, and Raige stammer in surprise. Phoebe begins to make introductions, but Eutwerpe assures Phoebe that the muses know very well who the Charmed Ones are. After all, the muses have been inspiring the gals from the very beginning. Apropos of nothing save my sanity, Eutwerpe speaks with a sibilant British-sliding-into-Australian accent that is certain to annoy the living piss out of me before the evening is over. Eutwerpe gets busy with the backstory. The muses were "inspiring a symphony" when Cocky barged in on the proceedings with The Mood Ring Of Uninspired Contrivance. Eutwerpe further explains that The Mood Ring in and of itself is not Eeevil; it was created by "good magic" to channel the powers of the muses "in times of great need." No, I don't get the reasoning behind that, either. Just be quiet and listen. Now that the Mood Ring has fallen into Cocky's hands, the muses' powers of inspiration are in danger of being used to further his diabolical schemes.
The exposition is interrupted by the entrance of the Dolt -- or is he? He ambles over to the four women, all gangly stoner arms, and Phoebe introduces him to Eutwerpe. Stoned Dolt and Eutwerpe blurt simultaneously, "Nice to meet you!" and "We go way back," respectively. Stoned Dolt attempts to cover his gaffe while surreptitiously blinking a dagger into his hand behind his back. Piper's suspicions are aroused, and she hollers for the true Dolt. True Dolt immediately orbs in behind the gathering. Not Dolt jams the knife into Phoebe's back and blinks out. Phoebe snipers to the carpet as True Dolt, Piper, and Eutwerpe rush to her aid. Cole races into the attic just as Not Dolt blinks back in right behind Raige. He shouts a warning to Raige as Not Dolt morphs back into Cocky's stoned companion. Raige orbs out as the stoner lunges at her with the dagger. Piper, meanwhile, has whirled around to blow him up. True Dolt heals both Phoebe's wound and the tear in her frock coat. Raige, after several moments, orbs back in to rage about the intruder. Eutwerpe helpfully notes that the stoner was not the same warlock who abducted her cohorts. "They must be working together," Phoebe surmises. Cole steps up to the plate to bat us out to the commercial: "That, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call a faction."
We're only twenty minutes in, and the secret phrase count is already up to nine. I do believe this is the most annoying secret phrase thus far this season.
Manor hall. Aftermath. The Ps plus the muse and the boys scamper down the stairs to the main floor. Eutwerpe's physical presence has set the Ps and, surprisingly, Cole into a frenzy of "creative" activity. Much to my chagrin, the director has chosen to emphasize this frenzy through rapid jump cuts from character to character as the hand-held camera swoops up and around and back and forth with some spinning and some more swooping and I swear to God I'm going to vomit if I don't condense this scene into a few short sentences. Piper decides that a potion to protect them against the warlocks is an excellent idea, and plans to start brewing immediately. Phoebe snatches up a pad of paper and a pen to compose a vanquishing spell. Raige retrieves her art supplies to produce a rendering of Cocky The Wonderlock based on Eutwerpe's description. Cole intends to travel to Hell with the Dolt to learn "who the faction leader is." The first three ideas are met with wholehearted approval. The last, not so much. The various Ps bicker amongst themselves over Cole's proposal, the argument growing increasingly heated as the camera work grows increasingly nauseating. Raige sides with Cole, Phoebe sides against him, and the final decision on the matter is Piper's to make. Cole will remain in the Manor to assist her with the potion, as his knowledge of warlocks should prove invaluable to the process. Cole, it should be noted, is less than thrilled with this outcome. At one point during the altercation, he spits the accusation, "You won't be happy until I don an apron and become your houseboy." If the apron fits, sweetheart. In any event, the group scatters.
By the way, Phoebe was rhyming throughout that last scene. Aren't you glad I kept it short?
Kitchen. Piper has eight pots simmering at the same time on the stove and the island. Cole, practically wetting himself over his excitement at finally having been, like, totally inspired by an actual muse, urges her to hurry. Piper counsels patience in matters both culinary and matrimonial. Cole's somewhat taken aback by this reference to his rejected proposal. Piper, Cole, and the Dolt use this opportunity to blather on endlessly about the underlying reasons for Phoebe's rejection. Phoebe's used to being the youngest sister and an "eternal child" and a person without commitments. Therefore, goes the dominant reasoning, growing up frightens the living crap out of her. There was probably more, but I'm sure we'll be hearing it over and over and over again for the rest of the goddamned season. Hey, gang? You succinctly and sufficiently made your respective points on this matter in "Black As Cole." Either come up with some new dialogue, or shut the hell up about it already. Piper eventually ends the discussion by refocusing her attention on her various potions. Cole asks to speak with the Dolt in private for a moment. They exit to the dining room as Piper stumbles across the correct mix of ingredients for the protection, signaled by the mixture igniting. Whatever.
Dining room. Cole asks the Dolt for a favor, "man-to-man." NO! Not like that. Christ, not like that. The Dolt assumes that Cole wants him to speak to Phoebe about the marriage thing. The Dolt even does a couple of jocular punching motions against Cole's torso as he makes this assumption. It would be cute if I didn't hate him so much. Cole actually wants the Dolt to orb him down to Hell. The stoner used purloined demonic powers to attack the Halliwells -- a transgression punishable in certain Hell circles by death. A demon confab should be convening at that very moment to debate the fate of Cocky The Wonderlock and his minions. All Cole and the Dolt need do is get close enough to eavesdrop. The Dolt hesitates, but all of his reservations melt away when Cole slings a manly arm around his shoulders. Locked in this half embrace, the Dolt grabs Cole's hand and the two orb out. I do not appreciate the implications of that scene at all, and you slash fans out there know exactly what I'm talking about.
Attic. Phoebe paces as she recites the vanquish she's composed:
A warlock is a funny thing.
He blinks from place to place.
And when we say these words to him,
His face they will erase.
"Sounds more like a limerick than a spell," is Raige's evaluation. No, you dimwit. It doesn't sound like a limerick at all. A limerick would sound more like this:
There once was a bimbo named Paige
Whose half-witted mind was her cage.
With words injudicious
And ignorance vicious,
Demian she sought to enrage.
And succeeded.
Phoebe scraps her spell and sits to begin again. Raige, meanwhile, diligently sketches out Cocky's image according to Eutwerpe's instruction. Eutwerpe also lays a little science on the two Ps on the topics of muses and art. Muses aren't responsible for an artist's drive, talent, or will, nor do they claim responsibility for the finished product. Also, "art isn't about perfection -- it's about expression." "The key," according to Eutwerpe, "is simply to love it." Can it, Eutwerpe. Fortunately, Piper enters the attic with three vials of the new potion at this moment, and I don't have to put up with the drivel spilling from the mouth of this "muse" any longer. Phoebe offers the following for Piper's approval:
[Eeevil] is a faithful foe
But good does battle best.
We witches will with these words
Waste the warlock's [Eeevil] zest.
According to Piper, the spell is "witty, but wordy." Nevertheless, it will have to do. Phoebe passes copies to her sisters as Piper distributes the vials. Raige's completed rendering of Cocky is accurate enough to allow her to summon The Mood Ring from the drawing's finger. Hey! Pipe down back there. By now you should know better than to question the dictates of The Great And Powerful Kern -- no matter how nonsensical and contrived said dictates are. Of course it's mind-bendingly asinine to believe that Raige could summon an object she's never seen from a drawing of a man she's never met. You, of course, may feel free to tear at your hair because of this. I choose to go bald naturally. Anyway, the plan is to lure Cocky to the attic by stealing The Mood Ring. Once he's there, the gals will smash the vials at his feet. The resulting explosion will irritate Cocky's eyes, depriving him of his ability to blink. Once he's thus disabled, the sisters will recite the vanquishing spell. Phoebe decides the boys need to witness their triumph. She crosses to the door, shouting Cole's name. No answer. Duh.
Hell. "High Council Meeting Quarters." Anonymous dark demonic forces wander to and fro. Cole and the Dolt crouch behind an outcropping of volcanic rock. A hand unexpectedly clamps down on Cole's shoulder from behind. "You two lost?" the hand's owner inquires. Cole swivels his head cautiously. Upon recognizing the gentleman demon as "Rake," Cole rises to his feet to greet him. Rake: "Didn't I hear you were dead?" Cole: "Yeah, and unfortunately I have to stay that way." Cole knifes Rake, who vanishes in a pillar of fire. For reasons unknown, the Dolt decides to call Cole on this. "He seemed like a friend," quoth the Dolt. Cole coolly replies that to Belthazor the demon, Rake was indeed a friend; to Cole the human, not so much. "Feels different?" the Dolt continues, refusing to drop the issue. "Killing? Now that you're human?" Cole tells the Dolt to zip it and keep an eye the demonic confab. The purpose of this exchange is unclear, and for some reason I doubt that it will ever be mentioned again.
Up -- way up -- in the attic, Piper shouts fruitlessly for the Dolt as Phoebe tells them all that Cole has disappeared from the Manor. The gals quickly realize what the boys must have done, with Piper's expression indicating that the Dolt will be violently separated from his orbs when he returns. They decide to proceed with their plan anyway. Raige stands above her rendering of Cocky and calls for The Mood Ring Of My Despair. Nothing happens. Eutwerpe steps forward and instructs her to "breathe and focus." Raige complies, and the camera moves in to center on the charcoaled ring on the paper. The ring as drawn melts into the ring in reality, followed by Cocky himself. The camera pulls back from his hand to show him in yet another alley with yet another underling. "That ring packs a serious punch," enthuses the underling. Cocky asks him what power he managed to steal. By way of response, the underling raises his hand. A Flaming Ball Of Death appears, floating above his palm. Cocky raises his own hand to run it over the FBOD's surface. As he does this, The Mood Ring glows blue and disappears from his finger. Back in the attic, the ring materializes in front of the Ps. "It worked!" Raige perks. Phoebe orders her to "let all the muses out." Over in the alley, the underling notices the absence of The Mood Ring before Cocky does. Cocky guesses that the Charmed Ones are to blame, and smoothly persuades the underling to blink on over to the Manor with him to retrieve it. After a bit of hesitation, the underling blinks out, followed by Cocky.
Attic. The Ps plus Eutwerpe lurk behind various trunks and whatnot, awaiting the arrival of the Wonderlock. The Mood Ring Of My Despair rests on a low table in the center of the room. The underling blinks in first and leans in to grab the ring. The Ps fling the potion vials at him from their various hiding places. The vials shatter at the underling's feet, enveloping him in a cloud of smoke. As he pants and gasps, the gals recite Phoebe's vanquish. Piper seems to have problems wrapping her lips around Phoebe's alliterative verses, but no matter. We soon bid a fond farewell to yet another of Cocky's minions. After the underling has blazed on down to Hell, Cocky himself blinks in, snatches the ring, and blinks out again. The Ps gape. Cocky blinks back in again atop a wardrobe and sucks Eutwerpe into the ring. Phoebe shouts for Piper to blow him up, but Raige stops her, noting that Piper might also blow up Eutwerpe in the process. Muse sucking complete, Cocky takes a small moment to gloat, then blinks out for good. Phoebe's Look Of Concern takes us to commercial.
Back from the break, the camera pans across the dejected Ps, slumped in chairs around the table in the attic. The Dolt orbs in with Cole. They're holding hands like two grooms atop a wedding cake in Amsterdam, which is just so very wrong. Cole lets go of the Dolt and advances on the sisters, stammering out an apology for disobeying their order before telling them the "leader of the faction is a warlock named Devlin." Phoebe idly notes that Cocky looked "more like a Joe" to her. The Dolt inquires as to the whereabouts of Eutwerpe, and is told she was abducted. The Ps continue to slouch and slump, disinterested and detached from the situation, entirely enervated now that Eutwerpe's gone. Phoebe claims they're "basking in the brilliance of [their] failure." After dragging a few more relevant facts from the listless witchy trio, the Dolt tries to kick-start them into action with a little pep talk. The Glamorous Ladies aren't having it. Cocky's got their muse, and what's more, he's going to use her inspiration to kill them.
Cole cracks a joke to lighten the mood, which only serves to kindle the Wrath Of Phoebe. She bitches him out for his little trip to Hell. Had he remained in the Manor, she insists, he might have been able to help them when Cocky blinked in. Cole snorts at this idea, claiming that Phoebe "would have sent [him] to [his] room" at the first sign of danger. Phoebe leaps to her feet, and the two snarl at each other. Eventually, Cole attacks her for rejecting his proposal, with predictable results. As Raige and the Dolt join me in a hearty rolling of our eyes, Cole and Phoebe hiss and scratch and piss and whine and bitch and moan and blah bitch marriage-cakes. It all ends with Phoebe reaffirming her love for Cole and admitting that she doesn't "know how to be a wife." Cole, for some reason, pulls her into his arms at this and bends her backwards into a dip for a lingering kiss. They break apart long enough for Phoebe to add, "But I can't live without you in my life." Yes, she's rhyming again. The Dolt claims that "Phoebe's passion for Cole is a natural way to access inspiration." Phoebe breaks from her Cole clinch to join in with the pep-talking. "This isn't just about saving our own lives, or even [Eutwerpe's]," she exhorts. "This is about good versus evil and wrong versus right and our job as witches to fight the good fight." From her slouch, Piper mocks Phoebe for turning into a badly-dressed and trashy version of Dr. Seuss. Well, except for the "badly-dressed and trashy" part. Raige, however, rises to her feet, supposing that although summoning Cocky to the Manor didn't work, transporting themselves to his location somehow might. Phoebe encourages Raige to think along those lines, and urges Piper to whip up some more Blink Away. Piper whines that she can't remember which ingredients she used for the last batch. Um, she had a whole freaking vat of the stuff on the stove. Are you telling me she only got three teeny vials out of it? Not. Anyway, Phoebe tells Piper to get off her ass and start cooking. "Just do it," she orders. "Because I guarantee you that [Cocky's] not sitting on his butt waiting for inspiration to strike."
Indeed he isn't, as the cut to the scene reveals. Cocky, from the center of a circle of potential recruits, addresses the group with a little pep talk of his own. He claims that by attacking the Halliwells in unison, they will succeed where others have failed. Are the recruits with him or not? One of the recruits looks like Rachel from The Real World: San Francisco, by the way. The new minions mutter affirmatively. Cocky, irked by their lack of enthusiasm, raises his fist to bedazzle each in the circle with a bolt from The Mood Ring Of My Despair. The minions get good, strong tokes off the ring and receive a final instruction from Cocky ("Don't be late") before blinking out in groups of two or three. Cocky raises his arms in triumph and blinks out himself.
Manor sun porch. The Ps are arranged on the floor around a low coffee table, mixing up the Blink Away while Cole paces restlessly behind them. Something about the situation "doesn't feel right" to him, and it's not just the fact that the sisters might end up in Hell without him to protect them. The whole thing is dodgy: Cocky stealing their personal muse, using her to lure them to God-knows-where so he can attack them with God-knows-what-powers he's managed to pilfer from various dark demonic forces. Cole pleads with gals to remain in the Manor. Phoebe rises to her feet and crosses to him, gently explaining that this is something they have to do. She kisses him, then turns to Piper and Raige as they, too, rise from the floor. Piper distributes the vials of Blink Away as the Dolt whimpers, "Be careful." The Ps recite as follows:
Phoebe: Being of creativity,
Raige: We call ourselves now to thee.
Piper: Your light, now darkened in a ring,
All three: Shall feel the Power of Three we bring.
By the way, Raige tucks the vial of Blink Away into her bra while reciting her line. Snerk. A Swirling Cloud Of Glowing Golf Balls materializes to escort the three from the sun porch. Cole and the Dolt exchange A Look Fraught With Significance (no no no no NO! Not like that!) as the camera cuts away.
The SCOGGB deposits the Ps on a staircase swagged with bunting. Across the room beneath a banner that reads "USO," three Andrews Sisters wannabes with period-inappropriate hair in historically-inaccurate WAC uniforms croon the opening lines to "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy." The shot cuts to display a dance floor filled with extras in period garb, including a large number of men in uniform, most of them sailors. Happy Pearl Harbor Day, kids. After a momentary bout of confusion in which Phoebe believes the three have been tossed backwards in time, Piper realizes that they've been dropped into the middle of P3 in the midst of Bev's theme party. Raige supposes their little spell didn't work. Piper and Phoebe correct her: The spell was meant to transport them to Eutwerpe's location. Therefore, Eutwerpe, The Mood Ring Of My Despair, Cocky, and "his entire faction" must be somewhere amongst the crowd of revelers. The sisters glance around uneasily as we get jump cuts of various partygoers who may or may not be demonic in nature. Finally, the camera settles on The Mood Ring Of My Despair on Cocky's hand, over at the bar. Cocky hoists a two-olive martini to his lips and sips. Mmmm. Booze. He swivels on his bar stool to face the camera as the scene fades to black.
Manor sun porch. Cole paces in impotent frustration as the Dolt sits with his head in his hands, concentrating on something. "I don't know how you do it," Cole says. "How do you sit by and do nothing while your wife's life is in danger?" The Dolt, his patience strained to snapping, tells Cole to shut up. "I need to concentrate," he snits. "On the floorboards?" Cole asks. Snorf. No, the Dolt asserts. He needs to listen for a call should the Ps require his assistance. Cole paces a bit more, then stops abruptly: "It's a trap." Cole believes that the Wonderlock has set up a warlock ambush for the sisters. The Dolt does his little scanning-the-ether thing and realizes the gals are not down in Hell but, rather, within the confines of P3. Cole reminds the Dolt that the sisters can't use their powers in a public place, and begs him to orb them both over to the club. The Dolt stares at Cole's crotch and purses his lips.
P3. The Andrews Wannabes have switched to "Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree." Unfortunately, it's not the Andrews Sisters' dyke-adelic version of the lyrics. Various extras try to swing dance with the result being a seething tangle of randomly flailing arms. The gals stride past Bev at the bar, searching for Cocky's posse. Bev grabs Piper's shoulder, startling her into smashing her vial at Bev's feet. Oh, and that "Veronica Lake" thing that Bev was planning for the evening? It took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up at "Vegas call-girl 'escort.'" Instead of the sort of sleek bias-cut satin dress with hefty shoulder pads most would associate with the actress due to her famous Life magazine cover, Bev's wearing this low-cut, sleeveless sequined thing with elbow-length black gloves and a feathered boa. Trashy, yes, but at least she seems to be having fun. When the potion explodes at her feet, Bev hoots a bit before assuming that the "fireworks" display is part of the club's overall theme package. As Bev effusively praises Piper for her party's success, Piper latches onto the fireworks idea and pronounces Bev a "genius." She drags Raige and Phoebe away to fill them in on her plan. The club's strobe lights, if activated, should work like the Blink Away "on a grand scale." Piper will switch on the strobes and freeze the innocents. Anyone left moving is a warlock, and Phoebe and Raige should "feel free to vanquish them." Raige grimaces uneasily at the whole idea, but goes along with it.
Piper flicks a couple of switches behind the bar, and the "strobes" kick in just as the Andrews Wannabes hit the line in the song about the stars getting in your eyes. The "strobes" are set on a ridiculously slow cycle, but I suppose Kern et al. didn't want to risk hurling any Ritalin-scarfing prepubescents into epileptic seizures. In various corners of the nightclub, warlocks grimace and wince and squint against the pain the "strobes" elicit. Real World Rachel now looks like Gloria Grahame as Violet Bick in It's A Wonderful Life with that cunning little feathery hat of hers. Piper freezes the innocent, causing the music to cut out as well. Just in case we thought they might actually be among the dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell, the camera cuts to reveal the Andrews Wannabes frozen along with everyone else. Under the flashing of the strobes in the silence of the club, Piper glances around to spot a warlock dressed like Nathan Detroit writhing in agony across the dance floor. She blows up Nathan. Real World Violet tosses a Flaming Ball Of Death at Raige. Using her orbing telekinesis, Raige ricochets the FBOD back at Violet, who squeals and blazes on down to Hell. Phoebe spots Eutwerpe -- or is she? -- being dragged through the frozen throng by a goateed brute. The brute shoots something out of his hand at Raige, who's flung to the floor beside the bar. And then we get a continuity error. Phoebe leaps through the air to boot the brute in the head. As he drops, he knocks into a blonde extra standing nearby, jostling her out of her no-doubt carefully-maintained pose. There's a shot of Piper flinging her mojo at him, and when the camera cuts back to show the brute bursting into flame, the blonde extra and her companion have vanished from the brute's side. Oooops. Phoebe grabs "Eutwerpe's" hand to lead her to the bar as Raige rises to her feet. Piper flicks off the "strobes" and announces, "Okay, so who here doesn't want to die?" The various remaining minions blink out. Piper assists the groaning Raige out to the alley behind the club, followed by Phoebe and "Eutwerpe."
Out in the alley, the sisters pause for a moment to regroup before Piper heads back into the club to unfreeze the patrons. Phoebe crosses to Raige to inspect her injured shoulder. "Eutwerpe" follows and, raising the palm of "her" hand to Phoebe's cheek, starts frying her, Pismo-style. Cole's fist enters the shot to deliver an uppercut to "Eutwerpe's" chin. "Eutwerpe" hurtles backwards onto some discarded boxes. As the Dolt moves to heal Raige's wounded arm, Phoebe whips her vial of Blink Away at "Eutwerpe," who crosses "her" arms over "her" eyes in a vain attempt to prevent the smoke from affecting "her." In a brief struggle, Cole twists The Mood Ring Of My Despair from "her" finger. "Eutwerpe" morphs back into Cocky and shoves Cole across the alley into a pile of garbage. Piper races through the door and tries to blow up Cocky. He artfully swivels to avoid it and menaces her with "I'm too strong for you, witch." "Good thing I brought reinforcements," Piper notes. Piper, Raige, and Phoebe recite the overly-alliterative verse that vanquished the earlier underling in the attic. Cocky twists and writhes and moans and explodes, which is a shame, because I sort of liked the guy. One of the better-looking demons I've seen on this show, certainly.
Wonderlock thus vanquished, Phoebe jumps into Cole's arms for a hug. After a bit of that, he presents Raige with The Mood Ring Of My Despair. She releases the true Eutwerpe so that she too can participate in the Weekly Summation. Raige hands over the ring, and Eutwerpe assures them she'll return it to its rightful owner. Just who that rightful owner might be is never made clear, but I'm too bored by this point to care. Eutwerpe hugs each sister goodbye, then stands off to the side, clearly waiting for them to switch her back into a being of pure light. Raige, incidentally, gives Eutwerpe one of those pseudo-hugs I've seen the more vapid members of society exchange. You know, the physical equivalent of the air kiss. After all the awkward hugging, the gals basically ignore her. Phoebe suggests they head back in to enjoy the party. Raige would rather return to the Manor to work on her "art." She's "inspired," you see. Hey, don't growl at me. Blame the "writers" for that. The Dolt, tilting his head towards Eutwerpe, clears his throat to remind the gals that they have one more spell to recite before splitting up for the evening. They ad-lib the following:
Phoebe: Being of creativity,
Raige: Hide yourself now from me.
Piper: Your light that shines upon our face
Phoebe: From our vision now erase.
Eutwerpe smiles, glows, and disappears.
This bit, lasting all of seventy seconds, made the entire evening for me, and the credit is Hoagy Carmichael's alone. As a trumpet plays the first bars of "Star Dust," a song I simply adore, we get lingering nighttime views of San Francisco: Market Street, the Ghirardelli sign, the skyline from the bay. As the melody haunts my reverie, the shot cross-fades to candles in the Manor, and we are once again with Raige, contentedly brushing oils onto a canvas. Another fade, and as though their love were new, and each kiss an inspiration, Piper and the Dolt playfully feed each other grapes down in the kitchen. They settle into a terribly sweet kiss, and I assure you, I'm calling it terribly sweet only because of the "Star Dust" on the soundtrack. See what this song does to me? As the nightingale tells his fairy tale of paradise where roses grew, Phoebe descends the staircase at P3 in a stunning white period evening dress, fierce Adrian shoulder pads and all. I'm not even going to crack on her hair, despite the fact the white satin magnolia blossoms really do create an unsettling Bride of Frankenstein effect. Cole, seated at the bar in a vintage Army Air Corps uniform -- and yes, he wears it well, like you needed to ask -- turns to gaze at her. Another fade takes in the mirrored ball spinning above the dance floor in front of a banner telling me to buy war bonds before the camera pans down to Phoebe and Cole slowly dancing alone. They're gorgeous, and I'm getting a little verklempt. Damn you, Hoagy Carmichael. Damn you to hell. Your stardust melody is even distracting me from Phoebe's man hands. Phoebe rests her head on Cole's shoulder as the memory of love's refrain fades us out to the closing credits.
Have a wonderful holiday, and the best of new years to you all. Christ, did I just type that? That's it: Hoagy is going down.