Previously on Charmed, there was Sparklies. Shudder. There were also Li'l Orphan Brody, some Avatars, and, interestingly enough, Pepper Anderson. She's not in tonight's episode, but there must be a reason they're reminding us of her existence, right?
Sorry. Forgot about which show I was recapping there for a second. Sometimes I crack myself up.
Currently on Charmed, a lovely corner brownstone -- at the intersection of "Polk" and "Gough" in what can only be Not York City, because Polk and Gough Streets in San Francisco run parallel to each other -- is aflame. Roughly seven dozen firemen hose the building down; the camera pans over their truck to take in a horde of gawkers pushed back across the intersection behind a couple of sawhorses before it finally settles upon the Feebs, who impatiently checks her watch as Raige steers around the corner behind her in her little green Volkswagen. Raige pulls over to the curb and hops out to ask, "Has anyone gotten hurt?" "Not as far as I can tell," Phoebe replies, for she cannot see through the television screen into the real world, where I am currently gouging out my eyes. Why? Because Raige is sporting a scoop-necked -- as in, scooped-below-her-navel-necked -- pink fuzzy sweater with complementary rhinestone appliqué piping over a nude-colored satin bodice piece, and Phoebe's slung the Fun Bags into a gold lamé tube top that's sprung a little belly-burying skirt. Where the hell do they find this shit? Anyhoo, Raige inquires regarding the brawny and thoroughly heterosexual Kerr Smith's whereabouts. Phoebe answers by flapping her arms around and howling, "What are we doing here?" Classy. She looks like an emaciated Third-World chicken. In sparkly scag drag. With implants. Raige babbles that Li'l Orphan Kerr assured her it was a matter of great demonic import, or something, leading Phoebe to sneer, "Yeah? Well, we're not 'Brody's Angels,'" and that has to have been at least the eighth reference to the earlier Aaron Spelling extravaganza that I've seen on this show. Get some new material, guys. Like, yesterday. Please. Raige frowns, for she is as tired of the Charlie's Angels references as I am. Or maybe she's just too stupid to understand the allusion.
Phoebe immediately yammers out a not-terribly-sincere-sounding apology regarding her first week back at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me after her ill-considered sabbatical and the accompanying stress she feels as a result and blah blah blah blah cry me a river, you self-serving harpy, just as Kerr Smith and his jeans and the little FBI badge attached to the belt loop of those jeans and the nearly obscene bulge contained by those jeans amble up behind the two women to bark, "Follow me." "Keep an eye on the third floor," he adds, brushing past them without breaking his stride as the camera cuts back to a low angle of the flaming building to underscore the fact that all of the windows on said third floor have been blown out. "Why?" Phoebe blurts, trailing along after the bulging heterosexual. "Somebody's trapped inside, and if I'm right, he's gonna jump, and he's not gonna get hurt," Li'l Bulging Brody speed-talks as Raige stares slack-jawed at the scene. "How do you know?" she wonders. "Just a hunch," is the stolidly Kerrt reply. Well, no, it's not "just a hunch," dear. It's a theory based on three incidents of a remarkably similar nature, but we'll go with your term for it for now, because everyone knows words of more than two syllables are only to be used by the barbarous sodomites. Phoebe snips something in that pissy tone of voice she reserves to address, oh, every guy Raige has ever dated on this show, because Phoebe is an ungodly beeyotch. Phoebe continues with even more obnoxious commentary as shouting erupts across the street to cut her short before I reach into the television set to wring her anorexic fucking neck.
Over at the burning brownstone, a figure has appeared in the third floor's large corner window, clinging to a decorative pillar as it eases itself out onto the ledge. The imperiled gentleman hollers for the firemen to swing the ladder in his direction as Phoebe and Raige gaze dumbly at the "drama" unfolding far above their heads. Just then, a fireball billows out through the shattered window to the imperiled gent's left, sending him reeling backwards on the ledge as the shot shifts into slow-motion to capture the impending stuntwork in all of its glory. It's actually pretty cool, really -- the guy twists around and sails off the edge of the ledge, hurtling towards the fire escape's upraised auxiliary ladder. Hushed, unearthly whisperings exactly like those in all of the angel-heavy scenes in Wings Of Desire hit the soundtrack the moment before the imperiled gent's hands connect with a couple of the ladder's rungs, with the sudden addition of his weight quickly dragging the ladder itself down to the sidewalk. The formerly imperiled gent's feet slam onto the concrete, and he whips his head around, mouth agape, as he realizes what just happened. Phoebe and Raige are freaked. Kerr Smith furrows his brow, winces, and scratches his incredulous forehead as a couple of firemen race to the formerly imperiled gent's aid. "Oooo-kay," Raige eventually breathes. "How did you know that?" "Because that's the fourth person that's happened to in the last month," Kerr replies, and see what I was talking about with that whole "hunch vs. theory" stuff in the last paragraph? Huh? Shut up, Kerr Smith. "If the pattern holds," Kerr adds, paying me no mind, "he's about to die." "Pattern?" Raige snorts as Phoebe makes strangling noises of disbelief. "What pattern?" Kerr ignores them both to clench his radio in his manly right fist and bark, "All right, guys. Stay on the survivor. And keep recording!" Rose McGowan gets this hysterically stupid Cletus-on-Contin open-mouthed glaze across her face as the equally stupid Feebs cringes and cowers, no doubt terrified that the evil metal bird in the sky with its thin whirring wings, the choppy roar screaming from its beak, is going to sweep down and chew on them for dinner. Or maybe I'm being a little too hard on poor, overworked Phoebe and as a result am drastically selling her intelligence short.
HA!
"God!" Phoebe guhs. "Is he talking to that helicopter?" "He's really cool," Raige mugs, utterly smitten, as she drifts off the sidewalk to follow Kerr Smith across the street. Heh. The Fun Bags and their hateful gold lamé tube top jiggle along after her.
The camera pans with the three as they cross, lingering on the bystanders behind them for a moment before shuddering over to get all up in one guy's icy, Aryan kisser. His frigidly Teutonic bearing means he's obviously demonic. Well, his frigidly Teutonic bearing and that shuddery camerawork. Okay, his frigidly Teutonic bearing and that shuddery camerawork, along with the spiky hair. And the unshaven face. And the rough-hewn leather duster, the two foot-long steel spikes attached to the glove on his left hand, and The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness on a cord at his throat. Having so established the duster demon's Hell-sent bona fides, the camera cuts away long enough to take in a fireman directing the now-imperiled-again gent to the nearby EMTs. We get a very artsy shot of the soon-to-be corpse's inverted reflection as he stomps through a puddle; the camera pans up from the water's roiled surface to land on Kerr and the Ps as they race down the adjacent sidewalk several paces behind this evening's first victim. "Wait!" Kerr calls out as the camera speed and soundtrack slur down into slow motion. "Siiiiiiiiir! Nooooooooooooooooo!" Kerr continues as the entire scene grinds to a supernatural halt. We get a couple of quick shots of various frozen Glamorous Ladies and extras before settling on our red-headed stepchild of a soon-to-be corpse, stilled just as he was stepping off the curb while twisting his upper body around to grimace in Li'l Bulging Brody's direction. A stream of white light pours from the sky to settle at the Red-Headed Step-Corpse's side, where it coagulates into the form of a very bald gentleman in a long, white coat. Who is also obviously performing his entire role in front of a green screen this evening. The guardian, or "Protector" angel -- for that is indeed what he is -- leans in to the Red-Headed Step-Corpse's ear to whisper, "Stop. Watch for the..." Before he can finish his thought, the duster demon rather explosively smokes into crosswalk to menace and activate The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness, which sucks the follically challenged Protector into a swirling cloud that vanishes into The Amulet's central stone. "Looks like you're on your own," the duster demon smirks before vanishing as explosively as he entered. The scene instantly returns to normal speed as Kerr Smith bellows out a frantic warning, but it's too late. The Red-Headed Step-Corpse prances into the intersection and is instantly flattened by a beer truck. Whee! Phoebe gasps and covers her eyes. Raige shudders in horrified dismay and places her hands against her face. Kerr Smith pinwheels his arms around, tightens every muscle in his face and neck, and bays, "DAAAAMMIIIIIIT!" Hee. At least he's having fun with the scenery chewing and such. Or maybe I'm giving him far too much credit, and he really is an honest-to-God ham with a pole up his ass in real life. The sickened and repulsed Glamorous Ladies eek their way into the opening credits.
"Guest Starring Drew Fuller"? "Guest Starring Drew Fuller"? HOORAY! Yay! YAY! The Pretty! The Pretty has returned! You all don't mind if I skip immediately to his scenes and ignore the rest of this bullshit, do you? God, wouldn't that be great? Just zipping past Not!warts and Piper's Issues Of The Week and The Dolt's Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unbearable Angst And Torment and Filthy Alleyway Fornication and Phoebe's NIPPLES and Raige's Moustache and Bro...hmmm? What's that? Oh. You do mind, do you? Well.
Fuck. You.
The camera pans past various disgusted eyewitnesses to linger on the Red-Headed Step-Corpse's suspiciously intact remains before traveling the rest of the way over to Li'l Bulging Orphan Brody, who's giving a rather subdued statement to a uniformed city cop. We ease past that little scene to take in Phoebe and Raige, and Jesus Christ, Phoebe. Would it fucking kill you to wear a goddamned bra just once in your worthless life? The Fun Bags and their attached NIPPLES are, at the moment, pointing in two entirely different directions, and I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on anything these women are saying. Not that it much matters, because it turns out Phoebe's still being a pain in the ass about Li'l Bulging Brody's questionable trustworthiness, and Raige is still not clocking Phoebe upside the head for it. Kerr Smith and His Bulge eventually sidle over for the postmortem, so to speak. "You okay?" Raige wonders. "No," he sighs dejectedly. "I wish I knew why this keeps happening." "You guys wanna walk?" he adds, nodding his head in the direction furthest away from the Red-Headed Step-Corpse's suspiciously intact remains. Seriously. That beer truck should have splattered his guts for two city blocks. Anyway, long story short, Kerr believes this string of highly unlikely rescues, followed immediately by even more unlikely death, is related to the whole Gathering Storm thing everyone's been whining about all season, though neither he nor the gals know about the Avatars as of yet. Phoebe instantly finds a flaw in his reasoning, because she's the smart one. If the Gathering Storm is only after power, then it can't be responsible for the four innocents' deaths, she claims, as "innocents don't have powers." Um, dumbass? Yes, they do. Often. Frequently. Used to be almost every week, the innocents on this show had powers. And I'll leave the hypertext linking at that, because I'm not about to draw up a list of the names and the dates and the places and the circumstances of each and every one of them just to prove how endlessly, pitifully, brutally stupid that statement of Phoebe's is, because you know what? It's not my fucking job. They should have someone on staff doing that, because they should have something called a Show Bible, but this show is awful and evil and hateful and makes me want to die, so they probably don't. Assmonkeys.
ANYWAY. Li'l Bulging Brody insists the Red-Headed Step-Corpse won't be the last in the current string of suspicious deaths, and instructs the gals to give him a call if they decide they want to help him out. Phoebe's snottily dismissive after Kerr Smith vanishes into a suddenly appearing black SUV. Raige is horny, because she was staring at His Bulge the entire scene. And as everyone knows, Raige is a size queen.
Hell. The duster demon drops his coat to the dirt floor of a torchlit chamber, and damn. This guy's got some nice arms. Though we finally learn -- in the fourth act, no less -- that the character's name is "Sarpedon," the actor appeared three nights later as Dominic Monaghan's booze-swilling, smack-killing, whore-drilling brother Liam on the far superior Lost, so Liam he shall be for the remainder of the recap. Liam smirks his way through the chamber for a bit until Riff-Raff fromThe Rocky Horror Picture Show (and yes, it's the same actor) materializes, and the boys sneer at each other for a very long time before launching themselves into a brief and boring fight sequence. You see, Riff-Raff is some sort of mentor-slash-demonic superior to Liam, and Liam's summoned old Riff to, like, kick his ass, or something. Immediately before the fight commences, Liam whispers to the Protectors ensnared in his Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness for guidance, and presumably is therefore able to anticipate Riff-Raff's first Flaming Ball Of Death, which Liam demolishes with those spears on his left hand. Liam then pulls a Matrix-y back-bend to dodge another couple of FBODs before smoking out and rematerializing right behind Riff. They go at each other with their matching sets of spears until Riff manages to shred Liam's right shoulder. This pretty much ends the brawling for the moment so the two can impress us all with their mastery of matters expositional. Seems Riff taught Liam and his other protégés about the Gathering Storm a long, long time ago, and Liam has taken it upon himself to swipe as many Protectors as he can for his own personal benefit in anticipation of the time when the Gathering Storm finally breaks. Riff-Raff listens to all of this patiently enough, but responds by reiterating what apparently was his standard advice back in the day. To wit, the only way to avoid the Gathering Storm is to hide from it. Liam flatly refuses to consider that as an option, and so, you know, he'll be dead by about 7:50 Central tonight. Liam explodes on out of there with a vow to capture more Protectors. Riff-Raff looks around for his sister, as he is in dire need of some elbow sex.
Not!warts. Piper rolls into the library with Phoebe and the Fun Bags and the Tube Top and the NIPPLES dancing behind her, asking one or all of the occupants of that last prepositional phrase to call "Rex" at P3 to ensure that he completes a sound check for tonight's guest ovaries. "Are you even listening to me?" Phoebe peeves. "No," Piper replies, "I'm too busy staring at your lopsided tits, SLUT. Strap on a goddamned underwire already!" Or maybe she doesn't say that at all, instead rambling on about Li'l Bulging Kerr and the Gathering Storm and wah before asking if Phoebe's certain America's Crotch graduated from Not!warts already. Phoebe is, and wonders why Piper's interested in some random, annoying, and unfortunately named one-off character from the middle of last season. Seems Piper's convinced herself that a Vision Quest is the Dolt's only hope. Unfortunately, with America's Crotch gone from the scene, well, you know. Phoebe immediately begins preparing the necessary potion. Piper, surprised, wonders what happened to Phoebe's obsession with Li'l Bulging Brody. "[The Size Queen] can take care of him," Phoebe sniffs before leveling her gaze at Piper and adding firmly, "This is family." Piper and the entire viewing audience immediately keel over dead from a massive and collective shock-induced coronary. Shouldn't Phoebe be fucking the UPS guy on her desk at the office right about now?
Straight Estates. Kerr Smith futzes with some supposedly expensive-looking electronic equipment. The screen on his laptop is filled with a still from the overhead surveillance footage of the Red-Headed Step-Corpse right before the latter married the grille of a beer truck. Kerr sticks a pencil in his mouth and taps on a couple of keys. Some Whatever Technology instantly alters the image's colors, in the process revealing heretofore invisible smears where Liam and the follically challenged Protector had been standing. Raige, out in the hall, raps on the apartment's door. Kerr, intent on his task, calls out, "Nobody's home!" Raige, irritated, orbs into the room anyway with her hands on her hips and a sassy little, "You're quite the liar." She's ditched the pink sweater, but she really needs to knock it off with the slips-as-blouses shit already. Kerr jumps in surprise a little bit before rising to greet her and getting down to business. Well, he would get down to business if Phoebe were, like, dead, or something, but because she isn't, we have to listen to the two banter about Phoebe's issues with him. McGowan and Smith are amusingly twinkly-eyed about it all, though, and they are so going to do it before the end of sweeps.
Kerr mentions how instrumental he was in eliminating Pepper Anderson's threats of exposure, allowing Raige an opening to wonder what ever happened to The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever. "Does it matter?" Kerr dodges. "It does if you hurt her," Raige duhs. "I'm not here to hurt anyone," he non-answers, perching on the back of the sofa and crossing his arms. They flirt some more, and when the second round of flirting is done, Raige notices the altered image on Kerr's laptop. She crosses to sit at the desk as Kerr hovers over her shoulder, explaining the Whatever Technology as "an EM filter," whatever the fuck that's supposed to be. "What are those?" Raige squints, referring to what clearly are smears of a supernatural nature, and I'm just going to assume she's playing dumb to get in his pants, because boys like it when they have to explain complicated stuff to dumb girls. Kerr correctly surmises the white smear is a Protector the dark smear wishes to capture, adding that the sudden disappearances of powerful Protectors due to dark demonic mischief is the only way to explain the spate of unlikely deaths, but that's not really important. What is important is that, while Kerr has been rambling along like that right to her ear, Raige's panties have become soaking wet. I really hope he Scotchgarded that chair. Raige, in the throes of an embarrassingly amusing lovestruck stupor, gazes dreamily at him for far too long after he's finished talking, then dithers and flutters and generally behaves like the completely besotted ditz she now is once she realizes how silly she must look. I have no idea why, but it's sort of endearing for some strange reason. Kerr allows himself a hint of a smile before noting that they'll have to "wait for the fire" to see if he's correct in his assumptions. "Interesting," he adds rather cryptically while giving Raige the eye. She matches his gaze for a moment before we cut over to...
...the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, where the Dolt slouches in despair until two Jolly Green Van Der Beeks materialize to make with the taunting and such. "Don't resist us!" they demand as they sweep past. The Dolt whines and panics and orbs out. As soon as he's gone, the two male Avatars from last week smear onto the tower to strategize. "He must join us willingly," Not Candyman reminds his comrade, "but first [he] must see there is no other option." Suddenly, I'm Not Candy senses something and stretches out a hand to scan...I don't know, the world in general? Whatever. I so do not care about the troubled Dolt, nor do I give a rat's ass about those who would convert him. "There may be another way," I'm Not Candy eventually reveals after a moment's scanning. "Another opportunity," he elaborates, "to show [the Dolt] that one cannot ignore the truth forever." His taciturn companion nods thoughtfully as I'm Not Candy pensively peers at the Marin Headlands, or something.
Manor. Up in the non-existent attic, Piper and Phoebe, who have somehow managed to transport themselves back from Not!warts without the benefit of a Whitelightery escort, call for the Dolt, who takes his sweet damn time in responding to them. When he finally does orb into the room, he darkly reminds them of the mortal peril in which they've placed themselves simply by standing in his presence, like, you really need to get over this Danger Dolt thing, Wimperella, because absolutely no one is buying it. Long story short, Piper guilt-trips her whipped husband into going on one of Phoebe's stoopid Vision Quests. This should suck, even with Big Gay Chris along for the ride. Oh, ooops! Spoiler!
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, yet another multiple-alarm blaze has erupted, this time on the top floor of a low-rise office building. Raige orbs Li'l Bulging Brody into the middle of the smoke and the flames, and both immediately proceed to hack up a lung or two. "When I said I'd help you," Raige shouts, "this is not what I had in mind." "Just go!" he orders. He's betting his Protector will guide him through the ordeal, and that whomever set the fire -- Liam, of course, though they don't know that yet -- will be waiting to snatch said Protector away once Kerr manages to clear himself from the building. "Just say the spell," he mutters before dissolving into another fit of coughing. Raige looks both freaked and pissed, but orbs out anyway. Left alone, Kerr examines his two exit options -- which would be out the shattered window to his left or through the fiery doorway on his right. He closes his eyes and asks, "Which way?"
Out the window wins, apparently, as we learn when the camera cuts from Raige's worried face on the street outside to Kerr Smith's stunt double emerging from the smoke to leap from the thin metal ledge as those Wings of Desire whispers hit the soundtrack again. I'm not exactly certain, but I think Kerr Smith's stunt double might be far more attractive than he is. And taller. Heh. In any event, the stunt double manages to execute a perfectly photogenic forty-five-degree-angle drop through the air for about three floors before the camera cuts several times as he crashes onto some sort of sturdy, steel-and-glass awning atop a partially enclosed outdoor cafe at the foot of the building, and I'm sorry, but if anyone landed that hard on their back on a steel beam from four floors up, they'd be split in half. Because this is Charmed, however, we're meant to believe Kerr Smith simply bounces off the thing and remains entirely uninjured, even though he drops another ten feet or so to face-plant in a puddle on the asphalt below. Whatever. This evening's director goes for the artsy again with the water shot, what with the extreme close-up and the slow-motion and the splashing and all. Two firemen scamper over to haul the should-be-dead Kerr Smith to his feet and drag him off to an ambulance, but he's all, "Homeland Security! Homeland Security!" So they leave him alone. Instead of, you know, knotting the raving lunatic who just jumped off the top floor of a five-storey building into a straitjacket and shipping him off to Langley Porter for a very, very long nap. What. The fuck. Ever! Li'l Bulging Brody staggers over to Raige and, making "give it to me" motions with his hands, demands she recite the spell. Raige darts her eyes from left to right before complying with the following:
Show me what the evil sees,
Even if at lightning speeds.You call that a spell? Christ Almighty on a stick. Rrrrgh. No matter, for it's now Rose McGowan's turn in front of the green screen as everything around Raige, including Kerr Smith, grinds to a halt. A bright streak of light shoots down to coagulate and release another spear-bald white-coated gentleman at Kerr Smith's side, and I am not going to wonder why white-clad, alopecic do-gooders haven't suddenly materialized at the side of, oh, everyone in the plaza including Raige, because something like that would make sense, and we can't be having any of that on this goddamned show. "So it is true," Raige breathes, backing away from the Protector as the sound of Liam's explosive transport mojo hits the soundtrack. "You're not getting his Protector," Raige calmly asserts as Liam stalks over to her. "Why would I want his when I can have yours?" he coolly replies, and when the camera cuts from his face to her reaction shot, we see that a bald chick in a white coat has suddenly, inexplicably appeared at Raige's side when she should have been there the entire damn time if she was going to be there at all. Just as suddenly -- albeit far more predictably -- Liam sucks the bald chick into The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness and smokes out. Raige's surroundings slide quickly back up to speed, and Kerr does an amusing double take when he realizes Raige is now standing about six feet off to his right. Spotting the anxiety plastered across Raige's face, Li'l Bulging Brody's all, "What happened? What's wrong?" "I think I'm in big trouble," Raige's Moustache groans before vanishing into the commercial break.
Manor. Back in the kitchen, Phoebe's finishing up the stoopid Vision Quest potion -- that she actually began at Not!warts, because this show is awful and evil and hateful and makes me want to beat myself with a rock until I am dead -- while on the cordless with Elise Rothman, Girl Editor, begging off work because of a family emergency. Again. The ruckus of wacky Wiccan hijinks arrives from the hallway outside, so Phoebe abruptly hangs up on her boss and barrels out of the kitchen with a bowl of her potion to find Raige flat on her back at the foot of the stairs. Apparently, she tripped, or something, after orbing back to the house with Li'l Bulging Kerr, for when people lose their "guardian angels," they tend to become "accident-prone." And if that's the case...I'll be ignoring just about everything that happens to Raige from here on out. Thanks! Kerr fills Phoebe in on the situation, and Phoebe pulls some more of her strident Suspect The Boyfriend bullshit as she drags Raige onto the sun porch for a private chat, and I am so not going to listen to the former Queen Of All Evil lecture her half-sister on which men are appropriate for dating purposes, so let's fast-forward to the bit where Raige announces she intends to introduce Kerr to the Book of Shadows for a little Liam-related abuse. If the Book hates Kerr, she reminds Phoebe, "it'll zap him." Phoebe sighs that the Book's in the kitchen, and once again warns Raige to be careful before sailing up the stairs with her potion. Raige promptly face-plants in the middle of the dining room, because this show sucks ass, and I want to die.
Up in the nonexistent attic, the Dolt tries to get out of Phoebe's stoopid Vision Quest thing the second he hears about Raige's purloined Protector. Piper and Phoebe, however, refuse to budge, and order the Dolt to down the potion. The pantywaist caves and does as he's told. He then arranges himself on a pile of pillows on the floor as Phoebe instructs, "Just close your eyes and let it all go." The Dolt complies, heaves a sigh, and...
...wakes up on Guadalcanal. Yes, because this series has been artistically bankrupt for the last three years, we're apparently getting yet another clip show, as the Dolt and the non-speaking day players from that particularly dreadful episode run through the events immediately preceding the Dolt's Death By Gigantic Jap Bomb And Unfortunately Situated Munitions Depot. The Dolt watches himself get blown to chunky Dolt bits, then dives behind a Marine Corps jeep as another Filthy Jap Zero strafes the general area. "What's going on?" the Dolt screams. "What am I doing here?" "Don't worry, Dad," a wonderfully familiar and deeply pretty voice soothes in dulcet tones from off-camera. "I'm gonna help you through this," Big Gay Chris continues rather serenely as the camera shudders over to linger on his face as he perches on the back of the jeep, and siiiiigh. He's had another haircut and is looking quite spiffy in his little red long-sleeved t-shirt. He's also sporting a pair of blisteringly bright new sneakers. Hee. Pretty! "Chris?" the Dolt bleats as the screen flashes white to shoot us back to...
...the nonexistent attic, where Piper and Phoebe hear the Dolt repeat his younger, prettier son's name from the depths of his peyote-induced coma. The ladies eye each other quizzically, but remain oddly silent.
Down in the kitchen, more klutzy hijinks from Raige before she invites Li'l Bulging Brody over to the table to assist in the Book abuse. Kerr raises a skeptical eyebrow at this before ambling over from the center island to flip a page or two. "Feel better?" he asks. Raige plays dumb. Again. Some more. "I assume the Book won't let anything evil touch it," he correctly guesses. "Most magical tomes don't," he adds before snorting and shaking his head in disappointment. The Size Queen, busted and worried she won't be getting up close and personal with the considerable package in his jeans because of it, grimaces. "What do I have to do to prove that I'm not a threat to you?" he sighs. Raige apologizes, blaming her newfound and inordinately suspicious nature on her missing Protector, and not on her bony hag of a half-sister where the fault actually lies. Kerr mutters something about the "awful things in this world" as he browses past the Book's entries for the Seekers and the Wendigo and just happens to land on the precise page they need. Liam, according to the Book, is a "Celerity Demon," defined as "powerful beings who can move at the speed of light and feed off of lesser demons." "Proud, solitary, aggressive, and with quickness faster than human sight," the Book continues, "they are very difficult to find and fight. However, destroying one is possible. Boil mandrake root, hummingbird wings, eye of newt, and Sagan's Strings, then flush all that worthless crap down the toilet and have Piper blow him the fuck up." Or something like that. I might have added a little bit. Kerr frowns that Protectors are hardly "lesser demons." Raige counters that that's really not the point. Liam's abducting the Protectors, not eating them, and what they need to figure out is why he's doing it.
Meanwhile, back in Hell, Liam's managed to spork Riff-Raff with his spears, and we enter the scene just as Riff's collapsing to the dirt. While Riff lies dying on the floor, the boys engage in another round of endless expository blather, with Riff identifying the Avatars specifically as the impending threat, which I think is a first for anyone aside from the Avatars themselves since the storyline was introduced. Then again, I don't really care. Liam, meanwhile, rambles on and on about absconding with Piper and Phoebe's Protectors as well, but we all know Liam's going to fail -- and suffer a painfully explosive death as he's doing so -- so let's move this along, shall we? Liam finally conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death, obliterating his former mentor with the thing. Sniff. Poor Riff. No elbow sex for him tonight. And...scene.
Up in the nonexistent attic, a tense Piper hovers over the comatose Dolt while Phoebe places a protective circle of Mystical Crysticals on the floor around his prone form. "What if something happens to him?" Piper frets. "Maybe his guardian angels are protecting him," Phoebe suggests. "Angels don't have angels, [dumbass]," Piper snorts. "It's redundant." Heh. They blither a bit more about the Protector issue before the screen flashes white and we crackle back to...
...Guadalcanal, where the Dolt -- surprise, surprise -- is having a bit of difficulty understanding his current situation. "If I'm in the past," he asks Big Gay Chris, "what are you doing here?" "I'm guiding you," Big Chris non-answers, but it so totally doesn't matter, because we get a lingering close-up on his face, and despite the grainy wash they've processed over this scene, all I can do is sigh. Again. Forever. Pretty! "So, you're real?" the Dolt wonders, and here's the bit where we discover that Big Gay Chris is just some fevered, drug-induced hallucination in the Dolt's scarily gigantic gargoyle head. Big Gay Chris represents the Dolt's "root pain," dying as he did in the Dolt's arms at the end of last season, slaughtered by everything the Dolt had once believed in, and you know I love you, Chris, but this is really, really dull. Big Gay Chris eventually stands and offers his hand to the Dolt. The Dolt grasps it, and the screen flashes white again to dump the two in...
...The Dank And Forbidding Alleyway Of Desperate And Filthy Crisis Fornication. The Dolt creepily watches himself nail Piper against a wall, and even more distressing is the fact that his subconscious has dragged a representation of his younger son along to witness the act as well. Christ, but the Dolt's a sick twist. The screen flashes white again, and we're back at...
...the Manor, just in time for Piper to expel the dead-eyed Psycho from her uterus atop the dining room table. I find myself pausing the tape frequently to stare at Big Gay Chris, because I've seen the rest of this crap at least eight times already, and none of it was terribly interesting to begin with. The Pretty, however, is an endless source of fascination. I need help. And the screen flashes white once more to escort us over to...
...the Only Hospital In San Francisco and wow. Drew Fuller is looking good. Oh, what the hell? Get out of the way, you stupid Dolt. No, seriously, SCRAM. I don't want to watch you get all weepy watching yourself get all weepy as the nurse hands you the genetic catastrophe meant to represent Tiny Gay Chris. I didn't want to watch it the first time, for Christ's sake. God, you're an asshole. And I hate you. Get out of the way! Get out of the way! GET OUT OF THE WAY! Thank you! Big Gay Chris is still giving Dear Old Dolt a pep talk, but it's tiresome and tedious and boring and I never cared about the Dolt in the first place, so whatever. And then Big Gay Chris fades out, taking with him any interest I had in these scenes. Shit. They'd best be bringing him back later in the season, or some unsuspecting show runner is going to wake up one morning with a crash axe embedded in his skull. The screen flashes white one more time, and we're...
...back in the nonexistent attic, where the Dolt snaps out of it and opens his eyes to murmur Piper's name with a smile on his face. Just then, a Jolly Green Van Der Beek whisks in through the ceiling and dive-bombs the Dolt's face. For some reason, it's decided to cloak itself from Phoebe and Piper this time around. The Dolt immediately drops back into his coma, and the screen flares white AGAIN to take us to...
...a soundstage overflowing with dry-ice fog. The Dolt snaps awake and starts when he realizes he's surrounded by white marble headstones. I'm Not Candy materializes and introduces himself by saying, "I want you to see the real future." He directs the Dolt's attention to the largest of the markers, which features "HALLIWELL" in an arch at the top with the names of Grams, Teeth!, The Late Lamented, the Reconstituted Glamorous Ladies, the Psycho, and the Pretty below in birth -- but not, puzzlingly, in death -- order. We get a terrifying fish-eye lens view straight up the Dolt's nose as he pants his way into the commercial break.
Nonexistent attic. Aftermath. Phoebe and Piper try to figure out what the fuck just happened, but because they're Phoebe and Piper...well, need I say more? Meanwhile, another flashing screen has yanked us back into the Dolt's fevered little brain, where I'm Not Candy proceeds to lay a little mind-fucking science on the Dolt's massive ass. As best as I can recall, it's the same "we're a power beyond good and evil" speech they gave to Cole a few years back. With, of course, the masterful addition of the guilt-inducing information that the Dolt's entire family will die before its time should the battle between good and evil continue. "Duality is self-perpetuating," I'm Not Candy asserts with a vague hint of disgust at one point, and I'd suspect that was a reference to the recent disappointing election were I dealing with any other show. However, because this is Charmed, I'll breeze past it to note that I'm Not Candy argues that the struggles we've witnessed up to this point will all, in the end, be meaningless, because the two sides will simply fight on and on until they destroy each other, taking the entire universe with them. I think that's what he claimed, at any rate. Bottom line is, they're trying to inject a heavy dose of complexity into the show's mythos, and I'm sorry, guys, but it's a little too late to run so deeply philosophical after six years of rampant idiocy, innumerable Slampieces Of The Week, atrocious fashion choices, non-existent continuity, Stoopid Magikal Kreatures, disgusting personal hygiene, assy Harry Potter knockoffs, contrivance out the wazoo, utterly embarrassing production errors, ludicrous stunt-casting, the obliteration of the show's central premise, and Phoebe. Most of all Phoebe. At one point during all of this speechifying, I'm Not Candy slices through the air with his hand, and he and the Dolt are plunged into a black void, which supposedly represents what will exist after the final battle has been fought. The Dolt begins screaming as the camera shoots upwards and back, drawing away from the two until they're tiny dots on the screen before cutting back over to...
...The Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unbearable Angst And Torment, currently being unleashed upon the unsuspecting nonexistent attic. Make it go away! Piper tries to blare her way into the Dolt's subconscious, but at that moment, Liam smokes into the room, fondling The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness. He attempts to smoke his way over to the gals, but the Crysticals flare and dump him on his ass halfway across the room, where he takes out half a dozen ancient hatboxes. The noise reaches Raige and Li'l Bulging Brody far below in the kitchen, and they glance up anxiously at the ceiling. Raige orders him to remain where he is and orbs up to join her sisters. Li'l Bulging Kerr -- because he is so butch, and because he is so stupid -- unholsters his automatic and exits the frame after sliding the bolt back and forth with a determined little grimace on his face. Upstairs, Raige orbs into the room with a vanquishing potion and immediately falls to the floor. She flips the vial in Liam's direction anyway, but he easily deflects it with his claw. Raige orbs into the protective circle just as Li'l Bulging Brody bumbles into the room from the stairwell with his gun raised. Liam super-speeds over, knocking the weapon from Kerr's hand as he latches onto Kerr's throat. "Leave him alone!" Raige cries. "There's too much at stake," Liam sneers. "Besides, I could use the leverage." And with that, he explodes into a cloud of smoke, taking Kerr Smith with him. "Oh, no," Raige breathes as Piper shoots her A Look and Phoebe drops her head in resignation, or something.
Hell. Liam pimp-smacks Kerr and His Bulge to the floor of the cave, then proceeds to reveal every last detail of his diabolical plan, because demons are nothing if not stupid. Just like everybody else on this show. Liam then hoists Kerr up by his neck and hurls him across the chamber, where Kerr smashes through some bamboo, um, stuff before crashing again to the dirt, where he gasps and grunts and groans and pants. Liam looks a little frantic. Don't know what that means. Nor do I care.
Nonexistent attic. Raige, having retrieved the automatic from the other side of the room, scries for Li'l Bulging Brody as Phoebe and Piper strive to dissuade her from any attempted rescue. They fail, of course, and the moment the crystal slams down upon a set of map coordinates, Raige orbs out.
Hell. Raige orbs into the chamber and hesitantly picks her way across the sandy floor, calling out Li'l Bulging Brody's name. Liam examines her approach from behind a pillar for a beat, then smokes out. As Raige edges further into the cave, wielding that potion vial in front of her like she's Mina Harker with a crucifix, the camera swings up to the ceiling far above her head, where we find the barely conscious Kerr Smith chained with His Bulge to the rock. DUN!
Okay, so that wasn't really a DUN! at all, but this episode is so grindingly, dreadfully boring that I thought it wise to add a little excitement to the proceedings. You know, to perk things up a bit.
Back in the nonexistent attic, Piper and Phoebe decide to abandon both the Dolt and the relative safety of the Crystical circle in favor of heading to the kitchen to retrieve the Book of Shadows. Before they exit the room, Phoebe reminds Piper to grab for The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness should Liam attack while they're downstairs -- instead of, say, reminding Piper that she can still freeze shit if need be, which would be far more useful given what follows.
The ladies hustle down into the hallway from the landing with Phoebe in the lead. As she powers through the dining room, Liam smokes in behind her. Piper's shouted warning only serves to get Phoebe, who spins around, stabbed in the stomach, rather than in the back. Hooray! Also: Heh. You know Liam aimed low because he was afraid if he went any higher, his Freddy Krueger hand would come back with a couple of speared saline implants attached, like in the first Scary Movie. Phoebe drops, bleeding, to the floor, but not before she rips The Amulet Of Supreme Wickedness from Liam's neck. The Wings Of Desire whispers hit the soundtrack again, and I suppose we're meant to believe they're chattering at Phoebe this time around, but that makes no sense, so whatever. Phoebe taunts Liam from the floor for a moment before dropping dead. And great was the rejoicing across the land! Liam turns to super-speed over to Piper, but she finally deploys the Hands of Discontent, and he detonates in the middle of the dining room. His glove, however, continues forward for some asinine reason, and Piper looks down at her abdomen to realize she's been shish-kebabbed. Holly Marie Combs, who's been quite frankly phoning it in all season, then executes her worst death scene ever by sort of leisurely lying back on the floor, going, "Guh!" calling for the Dolt, and closing her eyes. Wow, this episode sucks. And once again, we enter the final commercial break having absolutely no desire to return.
Manor. Phoebe? Still dead. (Hee!) Piper? Ditto. The Dolt? Still yammering away with the voices in his head. I'm Not Candy pretty much seals the deal when he promises the addled Dolt a world beyond good and evil, where he and Piper can carry on their lives unhindered by the obstacles that have from time to time contrived to tear them apart. Or something like that. Yawn. I'm Not Candy gets a sudden whiff of death and worries that "it may already be too late." The Dolt...
...abruptly wakes up in the attic and calls out for the ex-wife. Or the current wife. I can't remember anymore, and besides, it doesn't matter, because SHE CAN'T HEAR YOU. Dolt. "I'm afraid there isn't much time," the suddenly-appearing I'm Not Candy warns. The Dolt bolts for the stairs and presently finds the dead Piper lying on the hallway floor with Liam's ludicrous tuning fork still sticking out of her stomach. The Dolt, frantic, hastily agrees to join the Avatars, so I'm Not Candy stretches out his hands to emit a beam of bright white light that enters the Dolt's back to suffuse his entire body with a hazy glow. I'm Not Candy then winks out after offering the Dolt a few words of encouragement. The Dolt, who'd been kneeling at Piper's side, stroking her hair, now stands and reaches out towards both sisters. Beams of light shoot from each of his palms to initiate the new and improved tingly touch just as Raige orbs in with a badly beaten Li'l Bulging Brody. "[Dolt]?" Raige hesitates, more than a bit surprised. Brian Krause gets this hysterical look on his face like she just barged into the bathroom to find him on the can, um, pleasuring himself. Oh, ew. I just totally grossed myself out. Shouldn't this episode be over already?
Anyway, after a bit, the beams of light recede, and Phoebe and Piper stagger to their feet not quite remembering what just happened to them. Kerr Smith -- looking like he's about to vomit from the pain he's in, which is a nice and seldom-seen touch on this show -- breathlessly wonders if it's all over. The Dolt gets this too-innocent look on his face and nods his head around. Raige suspiciously informs her sisters that she "never saw [the Dolt] heal anyone like that before." "Did something happen to you?" Piper squints. The Dolt's all, "What do you mean?" Piper notes that the Dolt unleashed The Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unbearable Angst And Torment during his stoopid Vision Quest, which would seem to indicate that he suffered some sort of gnarly and agonizing experience while away in a drug-induced coma. Well, yeah, he did, Piper, but trust me: What the audience went through was a hell of a lot worse. This fucking show. The Dolt shrugs that it was all simply something he had to endure "to see the truth." Everyone looks tired. And bored. Except, of course, for poor Kerr Smith, who's just standing there bleeding from all the gashes in his face, and not a soul is making a move to help him. Heh.
The closing travelogue commences under the wails of tonight's guest ovaries, whose first line is "I can't believe she bought it." I can't believe this episode isn't over yet. "How long do we have to watch her dumb it down?" the guest ovaries continue as we arrive at P3. Six years and counting, apparently. Thanks for reminding me, you talent-free shrikes. The ovaries finish their set to the appreciative howls of the thronging dot-bomb yuppies in attendance as the camera swings over to find Phoebe and Piper lounging on their sofa, rehashing the day's events without once wondering why the Dolt murmured Big Gay Chris's name during his first trance. Thoughtless bitches. They're presently joined by Raige, who informs them of the Avatars' reputation in the Underworld before an affable-looking and clean-shaven Dolt wanders over with a gin and tonic in his mitt. Raige bluntly demands to know if he's ever heard of the Avatars, and while the Dolt doesn't come right out and lie to her, he does artfully avoid answering her question, promising instead to "look into it." In the meantime, he proposes a toast "to new beginnings." The gals clink their bottles of Perrier against the Dolt's cocktail -- like, how many times to I have to remind these nimrods that toasting with water is bad luck? -- and as the Glamorous Ladies settle back in their seats, the camera pans in on the Dolt's shifty eyes and inscrutable smile before slowly fading to black.
week, there's some dumb movie about midgets. Then, on November 14, we get Kerr Smith in a fedora as Charmed attempts noir. It could be good. Then again, it'll probably suck. Have fun!