Episode Report Card Demian: C- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT And The Band Played On
By Demian | Season 7 | Episode 15 | Aired on 02.19.2005
Free our souls from their shells,
See where the lost spirits dwell:
Long enough to find their pain,
Quick enough to return again.
With that, Phoebe and Drake's heads instantly drop back against the seats. Raige eyes her unconscious companions uneasily for a moment before settling back to wait for the spell to run its course. The shot cuts to take in the Grand Cherokee from across the street before the screen flares white and dumps us...
...back in 1899, where Phoebe and Drake materialize on a balcony at the top of a winding staircase above Cabaret Fantôme's main floor. Billy Zane's wearing his tuxedo from Titanic, along with far too much mascara. Alyssa Milano's sporting a long, red, satin number that's far more concealing than you'd expect it to be, with a tuft of matching feathers in her hair and a black ribbon at her throat. She doesn't look good, exactly, but she's not entirely hideous, either. "Oh, my!" Phoebe exclaims, pleased with her ensemble as she and Drake gaze down upon the crowd below, which seems to consist of an odd mix of whores, their johns, and a startling number of slumming society ladies. Maybe the latter are "actresses." There's also a small stage, upon which a piano player sits at an upright, pounding out "The Band Played On." From 1895. Yes, I checked, because I was certain they'd fuck something up in these sequences, and anachronous musical selections seemed a likely choice. But get this: Someone on the production staff finally learned how to Google, apparently, for all of the tunes featured in the club scenes were written in or before 1899. I'm shocked, I tell you. Then again, they also apparently used their newfound mad Googling skillz to strip tacky-sounding MIDI files of those tunes off the Internet in order to slap them onto the soundtrack, so don't think I'm giving any of them too much credit. In any event, Phoebe and Drake compliment each other on their respective looks and begin to descend the stairs. "What do we do now?" Phoebe worries. "Mingle," he winks. As they dive into the crowd, David Anders and his ludicrously fake moustache catch sight of the pair, and he leaps to his feet to exclaim, "Toulouse! Who the hell is that?" "Toulouse," an older flunky-type with facial hair even more elaborate and asinine than David Anders's, admits he's never seen them before and obediently trots off to learn their identities as David Anders eyes the new arrivals with an inordinate amount of interest. This, unfortunately, will be the greatest amount of interest he shows in any of tonight's proceedings for the remainder of the hour. Snore. Also, I feel sort of sorry for the guy. I mean, he's only twenty-four years old, and he's already going bald. And then there's that fake moustache. Shudder. As the pianist reaches the first chronologically correct tune's final flourish, Drake and Phoebe meet Count Rogaine's steely yet curious gaze with a pair of their own before disappearing into the commercial break.
"So all of these people are stuck in some sort of ghostly limbo?" Phoebe asks when we return. Incidentally, the piano player's moved on to "Daisy Bell," better known as "A Bicycle Built For Two," better known as "That Creepy-Ass Song HAL Sang As Dave Ripped His Brains Out In 2001: A Space Odyssey." HAL so wanted in Dave's pants. It's sad, really. Could have been one of the great love stories of our time, if that bastard Dave had just realized how much HAL cared for him. Stupid Daves ruin everything. Anyway, Drake basically confirms Phoebe's suspicions before encouraging her to enjoy herself, noting that it's not often one gets to experience "The Gilded Age" first-hand -- an era, by the way, he defines as "a time when everyone thought life couldn't possibly get any better." Because raging cholera epidemics were, like, so totally da bomb. Tuberculosis? I'll take two, please -- one for each lung! And what's that, you say? Typhus? Yummy! And for dessert, how about a little of that emerging polio pandemic with a sprinkling of diphtheria on top? Absolutely stupendous! Drake also rather inanely exults, "There was science! There was art! There was peace and love and romance! Everything was a celebration!" Yeah. The Spanish-American War was one big fucking worldwide party, wasn't it, doll? Don't be such a retard, Drake. That's Phoebe's job. And get back to the damn plot already while you're at it. Unfortunately, he ignores me entirely, so it's left to a scantily clad showgirl to further the story along as she bellows, "George!" a couple of times before storming over to the nightclub's fortune teller to demand, "What did you do to him?" The fortune teller lies that she hasn't a clue what Marie's talking about as Phoebe and Drake exchange significant glances. "Don't lie to me!" Marie continues, hands firmly planted on her sassy little hips. "I saw him over here talking to you, and now he's gone!" "He likes my cards," the fortune teller rather cryptically replies, before turning to welcome an apparently well-heeled customer to her table. Marie huffs in frustration and stomps off, only to be stopped by Phoebe and Drake, who quickly determine that Marie knows nothing of the impending inferno. As Marie disappears towards another corner of the nightclub, Drake correctly surmises that none of the people around them realize what's about to happen, as they're caught in "a loop." "What could cause such a thing?" Phoebe demands. Um, dumbass? Over here. Yeah, that was a stupid question, because you nearly DIED four years ago as a result of a cursed time loop your sister and your ex-boyfriend had to break in order to save your sorry ass. And how did you repay them? That's right. You killed them. Shut the fuck up, you dim hag. Drake ignores me -- because he can, because he presumably has no knowledge of those bits of Halliwell history -- and rephrases Phoebe's question to wonder who would cause such a thing. He shoots an accusatory glare in Count Rogaine's direction, which Phoebe follows with one of her own.
Over at Count Rogaine's table, poor David Anders is fighting a losing battle with the ludicrous moustache they've indifferently taped to his upper lip. In all honesty, however, he doesn't look like he much cares. Just another paycheck, I'm guessing, but I probably should take a moment to note that I quite simply do not get the raging lust this guy sparks up in the hearts of those wacky Alias fans. At all. Then again, I never got the Clay Aiken thing, either, so what the hell do I know? Well, aside from good taste and better judgment, I mean, at least as far as that...that...garden gnome from North Carolina is concerned. In any event, a brief scene ensues during which Count Rogaine pretty much spills the entire secret of the time loop to the thick-headed Toulouse, who doesn't get it. Count Rogaine sighs wearily and orders Toulouse to fetch the new arrivals a couple of cocktails, as he'd like them to be "comfortable" when he finally meets them. The camera cuts back over to a suspicious-looking Phoebe and Drake before the screen flares to whisk us back...