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No secret phrase tonight. Just scream in pain whenever Phoebe's on screen. Lord knows I did.
Remember that offhand comment I made about Raige being the Firestarter? And do you remember Stan from last week? Yeah, my initial impulse was to call him Leland Palmer because of that shellacked widow's peak 'do he had going. So, guess what? This week's episode features both a Firestarter and Leland Palmer. We'll chalk this one up to coincidence, but if week's episode features a reference to Frances Farmer, I'm going to sue. For my sanity's sake, at any rate. Anyway, on with the recap.
Bimbo Boudoir. The lady of the room perches on her bed with a basket of laundry, looking surprisingly fetching in a chartreuse off-the-shoulder top that could double as a sausage casing. Seriously, sweetheart, you look good and everything, but give the Fun Bags some room to breathe. Phoebe briskly snaps a pair of Cole's white boxer briefs and inspects them before folding them onto the pile to her left. I'll pause to let all of you McMahon fans out there get a good mental image of what those boxer briefs look like with him in them. Speaking of Cole, into the Boudoir he strolls with an affable "Guess what?" Phoebe smirks and guesses Cole is there to help her fold clothes. "Uh, no," he snorts, looking like he'd rather suck on a can of Drano than help with the laundry. Phoebe smiles conspiratorially and asks, "What good is being a witch if I can't just twitch my nose and make the laundry fold itself?" Cole's puzzled. "Which witch can do that?" "Samantha Stephens?" Phoebe prompts, and the closed captioning along with the Internet Movie Database tell me I've been spelling the poor woman's last name incorrectly for many, many years. At least I always got "Durwood" right. Besides, it's not like the good Mrs. Stephens isn't going to suffer a far worse fate at the hands of Alyssa Milano's performance this evening or anything. Cole remains clueless, as indicated by the half-dozen reaction shots of his blank face the editor saw fit to include at this moment. Phoebe explains that Bewitched is "only, like, one of [her] favorite old television shows," and admits she still has a hard time remembering Cole's "only been fully human for, like, a month." Uh-huh. Are you, like, trying to tell me that the Colethazor never, like, sat down with, like, a six-pack in front of the TV on one of his, like, nights off? 'Cause that's, like, bullshit. I'll let that particular bullshit slide, though, because the bullshit coming up is going to sap the will to live through this hour right out of my body, and we haven't even hit the opening credits yet. ["And didn't we just do this on the most recent ep ofRoswell? Sigh." -- Sars]
“ Even if Phoebe used only the families she saw on TV as her 'role models' -- and how fucked up is that? -- you mean to tell me she never watched Family Ties? Cosby? Who's The MOTHERFUCKING Boss? ”
So, Cole paces away from Phoebe and asks, "What would you say if I really became fully human and got a job?" Seems a legal aid lawyer at THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES quit, and Raige recommended Cole as a replacement. Phoebe too-brightly urges Cole to jump at this opportunity, as it will both "keep [him] busy and help [him] find [his] identity." After a beat, she neurotically adds, "While I lose mine." What? What? Cole calls her on this for me, eliciting the following from his intended. Pardon me for quoting it in its entirety, but you'll need the text of the speech to understand the full-throated howl of disgust that follows it:
Phoebe: It's just...becoming a wife. I mean, I like Samantha, but I never actually wanted to become her. See, Samantha was married to a human, Darrin. Darrin completely repressed Samantha's magic -- completely denied who she was. And it wasn't because he didn't love her, it's just that's the way it had to be. [Cole snarks something irrelevant here that I'll ignore.] It's just that, growing up, that was my only role model for a "typical" marriage, so that's all I knew. And he was able to meet people and leave the house and go to work and build this career -- and she had to stay home. You know, cook dinner and do the laundry. She went from being "Samantha" to being "Mrs. Darrin Stephens" overnight.
Hmmm. Starting from that line about complete repression: No, no, not, bullshit, pull the other one, so was she, she left the house early and often, she worked, she built a career, she wanted to stay at home, she enjoyed taking care of the housework, and no one held a gun to her fucking head, you stupid little nattering twit. Yes, Darrin ordered Samantha not to use magic, but this position of his quickly collapsed because one, she never paid attention to him and two, he was more than willing to take advantage of her powers when use of those powers was in their mutual best interest. Or, even, when such use was in his best interest alone. Meanwhile, the career Samantha Stephens was building was that of mother and wife, and while you might not have that career in mind for yourself, you irresponsible, freeloading tart, how dare you attack a woman who chooses that path for herself? Then there's the whole "loss of identity" nonsense. If anything, Bewitched went out of its way to establish that buffoon, Darrin, as the one whose identity was subsumed as a result of the union; he was far more of a "Mr. Samantha" than she ever was a "Mrs. Darrin." It was, after all, her freaking show. In fact the whole point of the show, like it or not, was that men are doddering, inept morons (cf. Arthur, Uncle; Bombay, Doctor; Kravitz, Abner; Tate, Larry; et al.), and it's the women of the world who really run things. Also, how the hell am I supposed to believe that Bewitched was the only example Phoebe had of a "typical" marriage during her formative years? Sure, Grams loved 'em and left 'em, and God love her for it. But what about the parents of the other kids she went to school with? Were all those parents divorced? Were none of those households double-income? Even if Phoebe used only the families she saw on TV as her "role models" -- and how fucked up is that? -- you mean to tell me she never watched Family Ties? Cosby? Who's The MOTHERFUCKING Boss? And speaking of "'typical' marriage," Phoebe, do you really want me to get up in those oversized tits of yours about what a load of horseshit that is? In short, SHUT UP AND FUCK OFF. Jesus. H. CHRIST. Samantha Stephens could squish you beneath her don't-fuck-with-me pumps like the worthless little maggot you are.
“ Tyler's about twelve, has hair like Adam Rich, and whines. Any one of those things alone would make me hate him. All three of them together? DetestFest 2002. ”
Something tells me the author of tonight's episode has unresolved issues with her own parents regarding her marital status, and she's taking them out on the rapidly-dwindling audience for Charmed. Way to alienate your core audience by pissing all over the best prime-time show about a witch ever. Idiot.
ANYWAY. Cole tells Phoebe not to worry her vapid little head about such matters. For one thing, the societal expectations surrounding marriage were vastly different half a century ago, and for another, he and Phoebe are not a "typical" couple. "I proposed to you under a hail of demon goo," he reminds her, "and you accepted while I was bleeding to death." Actually, she accepted after the Dolt healed you, but after the rant above, I don't feel like quibbling. Cole rises to his feet and draws a ring from his pants pocket, wondering if they can try the whole proposal thing again. Phoebe takes one look at the ring and beams. "Grams's ring? Where did you get that?" Cole reveals that Piper slid it his way when he told her of his plans. Phoebe doesn't think it's such a good idea to accept this particular ring. According to her, Grams was married with it "six times." "Well, she must have liked something about it," Cole counters, "or she would have stopped at three." Fine, I'll quibble: According to Grams herself, she stopped at four -- just like Elizabeth Montgomery. Do the people who write this not watch their own goddamned show? Cole drops to one knee and formally proposes. Phoebe formally accepts. He slides the ring onto her finger, and the two embrace. The camera pulls in close to the ring as it flares up whitish gold on Phoebe's finger. Aw. We love the radioactive isotopes.
Cut to a big barn of a Victorian elsewhere in the city. Up in the hall, Kevin Costner's hot dad from Field of Dreams and Nancy Gribble from King of the Hill knock on a bedroom door that's been slammed in their faces. Because referring to them as Hot Dad and Nancy is going to irritate me, especially because Hot Dad looks like he's been ridden hard and put away wet many, many times over the last fourteen years, I'll call them Andrew and Vicky McGee for reasons that should soon become obvious. "Tyler?" Vicky begins gently, addressing the bedroom's occupant. "We just want to talk." Cut to Tyler, pushing his weight against the door from inside. Tyler's about twelve, has hair like Adam Rich, and whines. Any one of those things alone would make me hate him. All three of them together? DetestFest 2002. Tyler whines an apology for some indeterminate infraction. The patient McGees assure him that they're not angry -- they just want him to open the door. Andy shoots an aside to Vicky to contact "Ludlow." Tyler shouts out, demanding to be told just who this "Ludlow" person is. Andy calls back that this Ludlow person runs that nice boarding school they were telling him about. Tyler throws a fit, screaming that he's not going to boarding school! And they can't make him! If this little twerp were mine, he'd have been shipped off as soon as he'd been potty-trained. All of the shouting is apparently too much for widdle Tywer's widdle bwain, for he presses his fingertips against his temples and wails. His sports-themed bedspread bursts into flames. Snicker. Vicky calls for him again and again through the door as Tywer gasps and pants and shudders and gapes and sends the contents of his bladder streaming into the opening credits.
“ Phoebe blathers something about how proud she is of him and how their lives now are 'so Bewitched.' Cole wags his finger at her by way of correction. Unfortunately, it's not the same finger I'm wagging at the TV screen at the moment. ”
Morning has broken upon Halliwell Manor. In the kitchen, Piper and the Dolt silently peruse separate sections of the newspaper. Raige enters with some standard I-don't-like-Mondays grumbling. Phoebe perkily hustles to her side, offering coffee. She pours out a mug with her engagement ring pushed up into Raige's face. With proper prodding from Piper, Raige makes appropriate cooing noises along the lines of "Nice ice." The conversation shifts to the reasons behind the latest fight Piper and the Dolt have been having. This one's about raising "magical children in a non-magical world." The Dolt wants to "bind" the powers of any potential issue of their joint loins, arguing that growing up is difficult enough without having the added burden of pyrokinesis and astral projection and demons and whatnot. Piper thinks the Dolt's being monstrous. Grams bound the Ps' powers when they were mere tots, and as a result, they lived most of their lives "ignorant about [their] destiny." "I look back on those normal days," Piper grits, "and I feel like I was a complete and total fraud!" Raige wisely shifts topics, asking where Cole is. Phoebe offers to fetch him and thanks Raige for landing him the job at THE BLACK HOLE. "Especially now that we're getting married," she adds oddly, "and he's gonna have to get used to bringing home the bacon." Raige wonders when Phoebe "started caring about bacon." The Dolt opines that he's certain "she meant all breakfast meats." Shut up, Dolt. Raige trails out to the hall as Piper and the Dolt snipe a bit more at each other.
Cole trots down the stairs clad in his best old A.D.A. gear. As Raige needles him to get his ass in gear, Phoebe blathers something about how proud she is of him and how their lives now are "so Bewitched." Cole wags his finger at her by way of correction. Unfortunately, it's not the same finger I'm wagging at the TV screen at the moment. Phoebe should "feel free to use all the magic" she wants while he's gone. Phoebe natters something further about whatever her man wants, her man gets. Raige and Cole exit. Phoebe admires her engagement ring, then wonders what to fix Cole for dinner. The Flatulent Horns Of Hilarious Hijinks carry her airily into the kitchen.
THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES. Raige ushers Cole into his considerably cramped quarters. He bitches a bit about the lack of space before "Cynthia Corren," the director of the legal aid department and his new boss, barrels in for a quick introduction. Raige quietly excuses herself. Cynthia wishes she had more time to get acquainted, but she has to start Cole on his first assignment immediately. Pushing a stack of folders into his hands, she gives him the rundown on his first case. "Slumlord Alan Yates" cut off the heat in his tenants' building two weeks ago. He's scheduled for a noon "fact-finding" interview, so Cole has two hours to get up to speed. "You better be fast," she tells him, "and you better be good." She thanks Cole and exits. The sadists in charge of this program force Julian McMahon to attempt a funny about being "only human." You can tell he hated the line when he read the script, argued fruitlessly with the producers about it, and then conspired with the director to shoot ten equally lousy takes of it out of spite, from which they chose the edit appearing in this episode. We get an overhead shot of Cole stretching out his arms in his new office. He can just about touch both walls.
Lost And Bound
Ludland Academy For Adolescent Material Boys And The Middle-Aged Men Who Love Them, brought to you by NAMBLA. Damn. Did I take it too far this time? Sorry. Phoebe, Raige, and the Dolt orb in to find Piper still trying to blast through the gate. Phoebe wings a quickie spell to tear down the demonic force field. Said spell reads, to wit[less], "Door unlock, no magic block." The force field flares. Piper approaches, only to be magically rebuffed once more. Raige and Phoebe suggest returning to the Manor to search for something more effective in the Book of Shadows. Piper agrees, until she hears Tywer moaning in terror from inside. He actually wails, "No! Please don't hurt me." The context into which I've so cavalierly placed the Academy and its headmaster makes that line particularly revolting. Stay away from the bad touch, Tywer! Piper quickly rethinks the trip back to the Manor and orders the others to step back. She flings out her hands three times, the impact against the gates increasing with each toss. Upon the final one, the gates blow open. "I think [we] just saw a mother lift a car off her child," Raige whispers to Phoebe as they follow Piper up the drive.
Lair Of The Ludland. Tywer lies unconscious on a bier, ice crystals crusting his clothing, his skin, and his nasty-ass bowl cut. Ludland passes his hands over the dweeb's form, chanting something about serving The Source. With Phoebe, Raige, and the Dolt in tow, Piper blasts her way through the door to confront Ludland. She flings her hands out again, and Ludland's shoulder appears to dissolve in a cloud of demonic goop. Ludland snipers to the floor behind his desk as Raige pulls out the Power of Three vanquish she composed for the occasion. The Ps recite:
The brutal winter
Gives way to flowers of spring.
Ludlow is vanquished.
Ludland unhinges his jaw to howl and explodes, stomach first.
To be completely honest with you, the first time I saw this, I joined Piper and Phoebe in making "the hell?" faces at the spell. "Dude," said I to myself, "that neither scans nor makes any attempt whatsoever to rhyme. They're not even trying anymore." Phoebe voices this opinion for me: "What the hell was that?" Raige replies, "A haiku! I couldn't do the rhyming thing." BWA! HA! Excellent. The Dolt steps up to lay a little of the Whitelighter tingly touch on the frigid dweeb. Once the dweeb pinks up a bit, the gang heads back to the Manor.
“ The Dolt beams. Shut up, Dolt. ”
Manor kitchen. Piper presents Tywer with a glass of Hull Clean. Actually, it's a binding potion she cooked up at Tywer's request. He sucks it down and belches. "Say, 'Excuse me,'" Piper orders. Tywer complies. Piper smiles, "Ludlow was right. No one teaches manners anymore." The Dolt instructs Tywer to try to burn something. The dweeb concentrates for a moment on the kitchen table, but nothing happens. "I didn't hurt it!" he enthuses. Well, of course not, you dickhead. It's an inanimate object. The Dolt beams. Shut up, Dolt. Tywer exits to hit the Gameboy, and it's time for the Weekly Summation. Raige found a good foster family near the Manor for Tywer, which is fine by Piper. Not only does she intend to keep up with the kid's progress, but she also wants to be nearby should he wish to reverse the binding spell at some point in the future. She also learned something from Tywer's rampage through their lives. She can now appreciate "the wisdom in [Grams's] decision" to bind the Ps' powers all those many years ago. Grams "realized that children shouldn't live in fear," Piper explains. "They need to feel safe to explore and learn and grow." Piper realizes that Grams deferred the gift of their powers in favor of the gift of "a normal childhood. The gift of innocence." It's sick-making when you read it, but Holly Marie Combs sells the hell out of it. Piper and the Dolt embrace.
The episode ends with Phoebe and Cole in the bathtub. As opposed to the scene immediately preceding this one, what's sick-making on paper actually is sick-making on the screen, so I'll spare you the details. They agree once again that they're ready to walk down the aisle together; then Phoebe takes Grams's ring and throws it down the drain. Piper's going to be pissed when she finds out about that. Unfortunately, we fade to black before we can gauge her reaction.
week, The Source rises from Hell to attack the gals in their own attic. It bears repeating: Get yourselves a goddamned security system, ladies.