So, to cleanse my brain of the foul mediocrity that was the season premiere, I fled to the nearest bar the second the final credits rolled. It just so happens the nearest bar was one of, you know, those bars. A gay bar. The kind of gay bar that offers innocuous, boring Sunday-night cable TV programming on the screens facing the street while all of the backwards-facing screens are full of guys named Drake doing unspeakable and possibly illegal things to guys named Kyle. Naturally, my attention turned towards the street-facing screens, mainly because one of them featured a documentary on a couple of conjoined twins who were about to be separated at the head. Fascinating, especially when the screen switched over to an animated MRI of the connection point, displaying exactly where the surgeons involved would restrict blood flow to commence the operation. Unfortunately, the doorman took a quick glance up at the set, determined rather quickly this was material unsuitable for the surroundings, and instructed the bartender to change channels. Which the bartender did, of course, being the sort of obedient twinkmobile (cough BigGayChris cough) who follows his elders' orders promptly. And what did the obedient twinkmobile switch over to? Why, a rerun of Who's The Boss?, of course. Despite my loud and repeated assertions that watching two infants getting ripped apart at the head would be far less traumatic for the patrons than a Who's The Boss? rerun, the set remained fixed on that particular sitcom, which -- honest to God -- I had never seen before in my life. Knowing Alyssa Milano began her pop culture career there, I naturally assumed it was she chopping vegetables in the opening shot, what with the camera's initial focus on a pair of man hands dicing carrots, followed by its slow pan up be-haired forearms before it landed on the loose, densely patterned silk sleeves of a kimono. You can imagine my surprise when the owner of those forearms turned out to be Tony Danza.
Yeah, yeah. Cheap shot. Not nearly as cheap as this premiere, though. Let's get to it, shall we?
Fade up on the sun-flooded Manor faade, from which emanate the pathetic squeals of a wretched infant in severe distress. The camera cuts inside to reveal the red-faced source of those squeals as none other than Tiny Gay Chris, who appears to hate his farm-themed romper as much as I do. Though I have to admit that little Peter Rabbit skullcap he's sporting is simply the most. To say the least. The shot cuts twice to take in two additional sources of Tiny Chris's despair: The be-mulleted Psycho strapped into a high chair on the opposite side of the room, and some random Latina with filthy hair that Piper's apparently hired on as a nanny. Oh, my bad. That's actually Raige, who somehow found the time since last season's finale to get a tan. In San Francisco. In December. Whatever. As the wickedly inept Raige manhandles Tiny Chris's tiny diaper, the simply wicked Psycho does his level best to hurl Cheerios from his food-spattered tray through Tiny Chris's fontanel and into his brain. Failing with the Cheerios, the Psycho tries the same with a banana peel that quite fortunately splatters to the floor some distance from the changing table. I must note, though, that the hateful little brat sports a look of unbridled glee during all of this, and that's nice, because it's rare to see the demonic on this show actually enjoying their work. Creepy little bastard. Raige, flustered, rolls her eyes around in their unnaturally brown lids and whines, "Help! Somebody help, please!" Pack mule Piper answers the call by schlumping in from the dining room with a bone-weary "All right" before crossing to attend to her foul-minded elder son. "What's this?" she sighs in surprise, eyeing the Psycho's suspiciously spotless tray. The Psycho, dead-eyed once more, too-innocently appraises her from the depths of his chair while wielding a long-handled plastic spoon like a dagger. I'd call that spotless tray the first in what is certain to be a long, long list of continuity errors this season, were it not for the fact I'm convinced the wicked brat surreptitiously orbed the mashed-up remnants of his breakfast into his long-suffering brother's diaper while the camera was focused on his mother.
“ Fine, Piper, Raige is a lazy sow for not taking two steps over to dump the thing into the bin herself, but then again, it's just a fucking diaper. Have a cocktail already and get over it. ”
Piper whatevers wordlessly to herself before turning to wonder how Tiny Chris is faring with that nasty diaper rash of his. See? Evil! The Psycho is evil! "Does [Chris] need ointment?" Piper asks, concerned. "I don't know," Raige admits, "I've been kind of procrastinating on that one." "It's not my favorite thing to check," she adds with a squicked grimace. Piper squints that Raige has no problem checking the Psycho for similar ailments, so what gives? "I don't flash-forward to [the dead-eyed, mulleted brat] being 22 like I do with [Tiny Gay] Chris," Raige peeves. "Oh, yeah," Piper spaces ditzily before adding, "Ew," like this particular topic and that particular realization would never have come up in conversation until this very moment, but whatever, because the second in the long, long list of this season's continuity errors has just reared its ugly head: Piper had entered the kitchen in a pair of backless suede slippers. She's now wearing black flip-flops. Christ, I hate this show.
Anywho, Raige, having finally wrestled Tiny Gay Chris out of his befouled diaper, wrinkles her nose and sends the thing into a nearby trashcan with her orbing telekinesis, eliciting a howl of protest from Piper over that whole stupid using-magic-for-personal-gain thing. Fine, Piper, Raige is a lazy sow for not taking two steps over to dump the thing into the bin herself, but then again, it's just a fucking diaper. Have a cocktail already and get over it. And you can get over yourself while you're at it, too. But I'm getting agitated for no good reason, as that exchange simply serves as an awkward segue into an even more awkward bout of expository dialogue involving Phoebe's long-lost powers, Raige's supposed cabin fever, and Piper's newfound agoraphobia. The powers and cabin fever don't interest me in the slightest. The agoraphobia is quite boring in its own right, but as it relates to the death of my very late, very lamented, and very pretty husband, I'll pay attention to it. For now. Raige notes that lately, she hasn't been able to get out of the house as often as she'd like before clumsily adding, "It wouldn't hurt you to get out a little bit, too. I mean, you've been cooped up in here ever since..." Raige trails off as Holly Marie Combs, in a bit of toxically stupid direction, quickly averts her gaze to examine quite closely the bland set of kitchen magnets decorating refrigerator door. That bit of business would have made a certain anvilicious sense if a photo of Big Gay Chris in happier times had been affixed to the appliance. However, you have to remember how cheap the fucking bastards are who produce this shit. If they'd scattered pictures of Big Chris around the Manor, they'd have to pay Drew Fuller for the use of his image, and we can't be having that sort of drain on the budget, especially when some boyband fucktard I just want to PUNCH in the FACE is now on the payroll for six episodes. In any event, Raige urges Piper to open up about the events of the finale, but Piper goes all Cleopatra on Raige's meddling ass, what with the "Chris is FINE, do you hear me? FINE!" type of denial that's sure to swing around and bite her in the asp before the evening is over. Actually, her ex-husband's asp, but I'm getting ahead of myself. And making supremely bad "jokes" while I'm doing it. God, this is awful.
“ The Dolt bounds back over to the space Barbas has just vacated, and Brian Krause pulls his best Smell The Fart acting skills out of his bag of thespianic tricks before the Dolt orbs after the demon. ”
Long story short, Piper shuts Raige down with "It all worked out," just as Phoebe beelines for the coffee pot from the living room. The good news? The hair's growing in, and by that I mean the hair on her head, not the hair on her arms. The bad news? She's just as self-absorbed, badly dressed, and bony as she was at the end of last season. Scratch that -- she's even more bony than she was at the end of last season. I think Alyssa Milano picked up a tapeworm during her U.N.-sponsored jaunt to Africa over the summer. And possibly a touch of malaria as well. As Phoebe pours herself a cup of coffee while completely ignoring the gloomy mood of the room, she babbles something about being late for work -- again -- while nattering out cheery instructions for the others to ready themselves for the wedding they're all to attend that afternoon. And with that, the Feebs glides blithely back out of the kitchen. "Wait -- what?" Piper yowls, spinning on her heel to fly out of the room after the Feebs. "What wedding?" she demands. "Christy's?" Phoebe prompts. Piper The Sudden Agoraphobe oh-nos and immediately cites "the kids" as an excuse to bail on the whole thing as Raige appears over her shoulder with the Tiny Gay Log to remind them all that "the kids were invited, too." Therefore, Piper has no excuse not to attend, and besides, it would be good for all of the Manor Morons to get out of the freaking house for once. Piper, ignoring her, insists she can't leave because "the baby --" "-- needs to be exposed to a germ or two," Phoebe finishes for her. "Build up his immune system?" she continues. "He's too young!" Piper flusters. "Piper," Phoebe replies, not having it. "He's two months old. You can't protect them from the big, bad world forever. They are going to have to leave the house at some point." Two months old, huh? I guess that means this is all taking place in January of year, so I must be writing this recap from the future. Again. Sigh. Piper, momentarily silenced, simply shoots Phoebe A Look while Raige jostles the Tiny Gay Log around in her arms. "By the way," Phoebe artlessly segues, "how's [the Dolt] doing?" "Considering who betrayed him," Piper ices, "he's doing as well as can be expected." With that, she beats a clomping, pissy retreat back into the kitchen, leaving Phoebe and Raige to mug helplessly at each other.
Cut to an overhead shot of a dank, forbidding alleyway. A nearby sign, incidentally, identifies the location as North Beach. Just thought you'd like to know. A grimy Dolt orbs onto the asphalt from above to swagger and eyebrow his way through the general area as he calls out, "I know you're here, Barbas! You can't keep running from me!" Barbas? Fucking hell. Sure enough, the scenery-chomping ham and bane of my existence flickers in beside the Dolt in spectral form to whisper something stupid about fear or whatever, but I stopped paying attention because Barbas specifies that an ever-useless Elder -- and the emphasis is mine -- "tried to kill [the Dolt's] son," like, hello? An ever-useless Elder DID kill the Dolt's son, and fuck all of you for ignoring that fact. ANY-way. The Dolt catalogues Barbas's contributions to Snidely's season-ending efforts, and vows to off him for those contributions alone. The Dolt then whips around to prance down the alleyway, in the process passing right through Barbas's spectral form. For some reason, this causes the demon to flicker out and reappear as a solid with a gaping and bloody wound in his shoulder. No, that doesn't make any sense at all, because it's not as if the Dolt were wielding a knife or anything, but we're not even through the pre-credits sequence of this dismal excuse for an episode, so fuck it. Barbas glances about in shock for a moment before dissolving into a pillar of flame that vanishes down through the street. No, that wasn't a vanquish. It's the way the guy gets around. Unfortunately. The Dolt bounds back over to the space Barbas has just vacated, and Brian Krause pulls his best Smell The Fart acting skills out of his bag of thespianic tricks before the Dolt orbs after the demon.
“ It's becoming pretty clear this was meant to be another of Charmed's two-hour extravaganzas, but the production staff were forced at the last minute to slice it down to an hour, and the disjointed end result is just ass. Not that the two-hour version necessarily would have been any better, but still. ”
Meanwhile, down in the foy...oh, this is just fucking ridiculous. Sheridan and the Doormat use a motherfucking crowbar to crack open the never-ever-ever-locked front door, and to what end? To present the Manor Morons with a search warrant. With no backup. And no crime lab technicians. Not that the latter would be of any use at this point, because the alleged crime took place TWO FUCKING MONTHS AGO. God, the cops on this show are idiots. Sheridan goes all Pepper Anderson with her brassy attitude and her pistol cocking and that you're-either-with-me-or-against-me tirade she delivers to the Doormat, but please. Give it a rest, honey. You just used a crowbar to open an unlocked door. The Doormat flusters as Police Woman hits the stairs.
Up in the Boudoir, the Dolt's launched himself into a pissy little rant while Phoebe and Raige's Moustache stand helplessly by. Police Woman picks this moment to barge into the Boudoir and order the gals to place their hands in the air. The Dolt, not having it, telekinetically hoists Pepper off the floor and flings her headfirst across the room, where she brains herself on one of the antique gaslights suspended from the wall before crashing, unconscious, to the floor. Ow. That actually looked like it hurt. The Doormat comes thisclose to howling, "What do you think you're doing? She's a cop!" but instead chooses at the last minute to go with that old standby, "Are you out of your mind?" The Dolt whatevers and sporks out of there with his jockeys in a wad. Piper and her Many Crappy Arm-Like Digital Inserts Of Demian's Discontent arrive too late for the action, but just in time to bitch at everybody for making so much goddamned noise. Once Shakti Piper spots the quite possibly dead woman on her bedroom floor, though, her eyes widen as she breathes, "Where's [the Dolt]?" Phoebe goggles and rolls her eyes around while shifting tensely from foot to foot. Raige's Moustache -- whose pancake makeup is so dark, thick, and unnatural in this shot that it's turned her into a dead ringer for Natalie Wood in West Side Story, and this is not a good thing -- simply gapes.
Golden Gate Bridge. Barbas flames in atop the support tower to find Stupid Uncle Phil -- remember him? Yeah, me neither -- meditating in the same place upon which he was so violently attacked that morning. Just die already, Stupid Uncle Phil. Barbas flames out immediately, the Dolt sporks into Barbas's place, and again with the questions and the stupidity and the hammy overacting and The Angrily Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unwatchable Ire And Rage and you know what? Just reread the parallel paragraph from the pre-credits sequence, only when you get to the part where the Dolt relents, pretend I instead described to you how the Dolt's sporking bolts of Stupid-Elder-killing electricity leave Zoloft in a bitty pile of ash atop the bridge. Spectral Barbas gloats for a bit before flickering out, and...wait a minute! Shakti Piper opened up an enormous wound in the demon's gut not five scenes ago. Who the hell did Barbas summon to heal that, huh? And when the hell did he find time to do it? God, this episode sucks, and I'm actually thinking most of the blame can be laid at the feet of those marketing wizards at the WB. It's becoming pretty clear this was meant to be another of Charmed's two-hour extravaganzas, but the production staff were forced at the last minute to slice it down to an hour, and the disjointed end result is just ass. Not that the two-hour version necessarily would have been any better, but still. God, I hate this show. Oh, by the way: The stricken Dolt just got his massive ass smacked around but good by the final commercial break.
“ Remember how I said way back when that Krause was one of those blond doofus stoner surfer fratboys who hang on to their youthful looks for an unusually lengthy period of time, only to have it all catch up with them in what seems to be a single day? Today's the day. ”
Not!warts and Mrs. Winterbourne and crates and boring! Shakti Piper and her Many Crappy Arm-Like Digital Inserts Of Demian's Discontent stand in the center of the library, with the anguished Dolt slumped on the floor off to one side. Tool is wearing a pair of brown leather loafers with white socks. Stupid Dolt. Raige's Moustache skitters in and pauses to agonize over the stupid Dolt, but Shakti Piper and her Many Crappy Arm-Like Digital Inserts Of Demian's Discontent propel her towards a pile of books on a nearby table. Raige's Moustache flips quickly through the topmost volume and recites the following spell:
We call upon the mortal ways
And gods who guide but may not stay:
We seek those of divinity
To separate from and set them free.
The lower four Crappy Arm-Like Digital Inserts Of Demian's Discontent dissolve into a glowy golden cloud of Hindu mojo that rises from Piper's body as a similar cloud erupts from the stupid Dolt's limp form. The two clouds join and shoot up towards the library ceiling, dissipating rapidly as they go until they've vanished. Raige's Moustache gazes on anxiously as Piper gently inquires of the stupid Dolt, "Are you all right?" The stupid Dolt waves his hand around in the air before slouching even further towards the floor. "Piper," Raige's Moustache begins, but Piper curtly orders her off, first to find Phoebe, then to vanquish Barbas with that potion that's not supposed to work, because you need a demonic ex-husband to banish Barbas to the Waste Land. Or wherever. It's getting to be too much of a chore to keep all of this show's contradictory stories straight. Raige obediently and immediately orbs out, leaving Piper alone at last with the de-possessed and dejected Dolt. She wordlessly kneels down beside him and waits for him to speak. "I killed another Elder," he finally admits, and nope! Not gonna look at Brian Krause's face for the rest of the episode, and I mean it this time. Remember how I said way back when that Krause was one of those blond doofus stoner surfer fratboys who hang on to their youthful looks for an unusually lengthy period of time, only to have it all catch up with them in what seems to be a single day? Today's the day. Dude's so haggard in these shots, he looks old enough to be my grandfather. And my grandfather was born in 1893. Do the math. In any event, Piper comforts her rapidly aging, gargoyle-faced ex-husband as best she can, promising that "nobody else has to know" because -- shout it if you know it! -- Withholding Vital Information From Each Other Has Always Worked So Well For Them In The Past. Ass. This show is ass.
Manor and Angie Dickinson and Doormat and boring! Well, except for that EMT who's training a penlight on Pepper's cockeyed pupils, because he's kind of cute. Cute EMT and his partner evaluate Pepper's overall post-braining condition as Phoebe and the Doormat hover in the background, fretting about what Pepper may or may not remember. Long story short? The Doormat's still useless, Dorian Gregory still can't act, and while Pepper remembers nothing of her temporary union with the wall, she does remember the search warrant that led her to the Manor in the first place. Oh, for Christ's sake. Just dump some of the Dolt's mystical fairy dust on her head already. It worked on that asinine jury, didn't it? Raige's Moustache darts in from the kitchen to break up the little soiree in the parlor, as she and the Feebs have a vanquish to attend.
“ Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha! Also: DUN! Is that DUN! going to last all season, or will other episodes get their own DUN!s? I just can't wait to find out! ”
Hell. Phoebe and Raige's Moustache clatter into the healer's former lair in time to catch the tail end of Barbas's failed attempt at a tte--Tte with the Head. There's some dismissive smirking on the gals' part regarding Barbas's "invisible friend," and there's some aggravating scenery chewing on Billy Drago's part before Raige's Moustache throws the vanquishing vial like a girl -- complete with a little sissy "Unnnh!" noise -- and manages to shatter the thing at Barbas's feet. A rapidly spinning whirlwind of dark red embers erupts from the floor to engulf Barbas as he shouts above the whirlwind's roar, "You know I'll come back! Fear always comes back!" Right before his body dissolves in a gout of flame, Barbas howls upwards at the Head, "You set me up!" The Head, of course, does not reply. A little sprinkle of Barbas ash cascades to the chamber floor after the gout of flame vanishes upwards. Phoebe smirks something about "never get[ting] tired of seeing that" as Raige's Moustache frets about the unseen "friend." Phoebe whatevers. Raige's Moustache wrinkles her brow. Are we done yet?
Rrrrgh. The closing travelogue passes from night into day, leading us over to All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me's new/old headquarters. Haggard, bony Feebs staggers through the glass doors to enter her once and future office, wherein she finds SL@mp!EcE spARKL!es casually perusing that morning's edition. The Cooter Tat is visible. And it's dying for a fucking cheeseburger. Would someone feed this woman already? Egg salad! A Zagnut! Anything! Also, Nick Lachey in this scene looks so much like a Botoxed Teletubbie that it would scare the crap out of me, were I paying any attention whatsoever. As I couldn't give a flying rat's ass about either SL@mp!EcE spARKL!es or this stupid subplot, I'll skip to the end: Phoebe approves of spARKL!es's first column, and wishes him luck. She also warns him not to "sully" her "good name," like, don't you think it's a little too late to be worried about that, trash? Phoebe exits with a smile on her face. Her tapeworm hungers still. Are we done yet?
No? Crap. Back in the Manor kitchen, Raige's Moustache again vows to save Not!warts, even though she doesn't as yet have a plan. Meanwhile, Piper decides to head out "into the big, bad world" with the kids for the first time since last season's finale. And...that's about it. Are we done yet?
Still? Shit! Down in Hell, the stupid Dolt plays with Barbas's ashes. Just go with it, because there are only twenty-seven seconds left. The camera suddenly shudders all the way across the floor to get all up in the Dolt's face and I'm looking away now! From somewhere above, the disembodied Head snarls, "Barbas was right -- killing him doesn't kill the pain of betrayal." The Dolt, I believe, rises to his feet to challenge the Head with "Who are you? What do you want?" "What do we want?" the Head repeats as it rapidly materializes at the far end of the chamber before howling, "We want you!" Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha! Also: DUN! Is that DUN! going to last all season, or will other episodes get their own DUN!s? I just can't wait to find out!
Oh, wait a minute. I totally can.
week: Hag On A Nag. I can't get into the details with you because I'm still far too traumatized by the promo. Yeeesh.