Previously on There's An Hour Of My Life I'll Never Get Back, last week, with special emphasis on Piper and Raige's early discussion at Not!warts, the Dolt's supposedly newfound uselessness, Raige's hatred of her job, and the final scene.
Currently on And Here Goes Another, the sun rises rapidly above the Golden Gate Bridge through the miracle of time-lapse photography. Meanwhile, in what amounts to nothing more than an odd directorial choice, the various shadows in a vacant waterfront alleyway quickly retreat across the asphalt as that same sun climbs higher into the sky. Unnecessarily arty of them. Though to be honest with you, I did spend all of a minute trying to figure out the significance of the retreating shadows in this establishing shot with regards to this evening's main plot, and then I remembered which show I was watching. Eventually, a young, slim, and somewhat severe brunette totes a hexagonal box and some hideous cap sleeves on her blouse while darting onto the scene, panting as if she's been running for quite some distance. She protectively clutches the box to her chest and caresses it for a moment before a swiftly appearing and off-screen entity lands a mighty kick on the brunette's jaw. Youch. The boot to the head, incidentally, is powerful enough to send the small amulet the brunette had been wearing skittering across the ground; the brunette herself lands heavily on her left side before flipping two or three times from the force of the blow. The box she'd been so carefully clutching also goes flying. The brunette groans, pushing herself up with her hands, as Michelle Hurd leaps into the foreground of the shot. Michelle's found herself a cropped, scoop-necked maroon silk peasant blouse accessorized with black leather bondage gear for this evening's festivities, the better to display her rock-hard abs of death and destruction. "It's 'Nina,'" Michelle purrs at her prey, drawing a stray ringlet away from her face with a well manicured nail, "right?" "You'll never get it -- I won't let you!" Nina vows, still on the ground, as Michelle silently and bemusedly cocks her brow all, "Oh, yeah? Try proving that, you pathetic bitch." "I didn't ask for your permission," Michelle verbalizes smoothly, stalking closer as Nina finally leaps to her feet, a nasty bruise marring her jaw line. "It's only a matter of time," Michelle continues, sliding right up in Nina's battered face, "before I get the box." "Over my dead body!" Nina scowls. Michelle gets an angelic smile on her face and beams, "That's the thing with you guardians!" The smile slips effortlessly into a sneer as she continues, "You're always dying for that damn box!" Good God. Was Michelle Hurd always this good an actress? I barely remember her from L&O: SVU, and I sure as hell didn't watch Skin or Leap Years, but damn. She's quite simply rocking some tedious and otherwise rehashed material, here. I mean, her last line barely makes sense as written -- in that extra-special way lines on this show often fail to make sense as written -- but the character's intent came through clearly despite it all. Unlike the intent of certain others I could mention, Raige.
In any event, Nina calmly retorts, "Not always," right before whipping her hands up and blasting Michelle with a shimmering white mojo field that sends Michelle flying backwards through the air towards a chain-link fence. In yet another nice combination of special effects and stunt work, Michelle, at the last instant, overcomes her backwards momentum in mid-air with what resembles a couple of swimming motions before firmly planting her four-inch stiletto heels on the ground. As she rises from her crouch, she draws a three-pronged dagger from her pointy-toed black boot and challenges, "Oh, come on. You can do better than that." She surreptitiously slides a matching dagger from the back of her corset and, spinning, flings the first of the weapons at Nina's head. Nina, twisting, pivots her torso in a dodge while snatching the dagger out of the air. Nice reflexes. Not so nice is the hand-to-hand combat sequence that follows, which begins when Michelle floats all Matrix-y into the air, and which descends into what I'm told is a rip-off of an almost identical fight sequence in the Jennifer Garner bomb, Elektra. The two women hack and slash at each other for a very long time before -- seemingly -- driving the blades into each other's stomachs at the same time. Michelle looks to be in serious pain, while Nina might actually emerge victorious from this somehow. More temporarily overwhelmed at the effort involved in offing a dark demonic force than in agony, she gasps a bit and shoots a deliberate glare over at the hexagonal box, which flares and vanishes from the alleyway. A high-pitched and ominous violin shrills on the soundtrack as the shot cuts over to...
...Raige on one of the sofas the Manor parlor, clutching at her temples in discomfort as Phoebe jiggles in from the kitchen with some sort of homeopathic brew in a coffee cup. Raige downs the mixture as Phoebe -- "psychotically perky," as Raige puts it -- flashes her teeth at the lippy bastard and doofs. The shrill violin seems to return for a moment, leading Raige to rub at her forehead again, but this time the whining sound's more like a drill than anything else. Raige moans about being "miserable" as Phoebe launches into some goofy New-Age babble about Raige's current complaint possibly being "psychosomatic." "I mean," Phoebe explains as Raige cringes, "the inner ear has to do with balance, so maybe you're feeling imbalanced because of the whole [Not!warts] thing." Raige pauses, then near-whispers, "Phoebe! Come here!" Phoebe leans in expectantly. SMACK! Ha! "Ow!" Phoebe giggles, for Raige didn't slap her nearly as hard as I would have, given the same chance. "What was that for?" "Does that seem psychosomatic to you?" Muggy McGowan twitches. Phoebe's all, "Point taken," as the shrieking of the dead-eyed Psycho's orb cloud reaches her ears.
The bemulleted serial killer materializes in the parlor clad in a plush, green-and-black-plaid terrycloth robe, and if there's one thing I absolutely cannot stand, it's overindulged toddlers in overpriced, miniaturized versions of adult clothing. Haaaate. "I thought it was bath time!" Phoebe sings, brightly greeting her murderous elder nephew. "It is!" the Dolt chipperly announces as he bumbles in from the sun porch. He squats at the Psycho's side and babytalks something to the Psycho about Piper's certain disapproval once she learns of the Psycho's latest antics. "What's going on?" Phoebe wonders. "I think the terrible twos have begun," the Dolt confides, and if so, it's about freaking time, because the kid's supposedly almost three years old. Then again, the Psycho long ago made it clear he's -- how shall I put this? -- differently abled, developmentally speaking, so I probably shouldn't be questioning this. "Well," Phoebe replies playfully, "magical boys will be magical boys." "Try explaining that to his magical mommy," the Dolt glums, obviously fearing Piper's wrath. The Dolt natters some more babytalk in the disaffected Psycho's direction, which somehow results in the vile child orbing back upstairs just as that annoying drilling noise assaults Raige's ears once more. Phoebe and Raige explain the sitch to the Dolt, who quickly realizes that "the dentist drill going in and out" of Raige's head "could be [Raige's] Whitelighter powers coming on." "You could be hearing the call from the [ever-useless] Elders," he clarifies, perching on an ottoman. "Before I learned to control my powers," he adds, "it used to drive me nuts." Raige, refusing to believe any of this and more than a little outraged, gapes. "That?" she ices, "Is unacceptable!" Like everyone else on the face of this planet, she wants nothing further to do with the ever-useless Elders, but the Dolt's of the opinion that she has little choice in the matter, as she can't deny her heritage. Or something like that. Point is, Raige won't find out one way or the other without consulting an ever-useless Elder, and as Piper will freak if they allow one in the Manor, the Dolt offers to accompany Raige to Not!warts for a meeting. Raige reluctantly takes his proffered hand and drags him into an orb cloud that vanishes through the ceiling.
Phoebe, thus left alone, pushes herself off the couch just as another supernatural racket invades the room, this one caused by Nina's apparent method of transport, which involves a swarm of bits -- tinted to coordinate with the location they'll eventually occupy on the surface of her body, by the way -- suddenly materializing in the center of the room before coagulating into Nina form. "Who are you?" Phoebe snaps instantly. "Please!" Nina pants. "You have to help me find it before it's too late!" Nina evidently retrieved her amulet from the alleyway floor before swarming over to the Manor, incidentally. Phoebe, not paying nearly as much attention to the tacky jewelry as I am, quite reasonably asks, "Find what?" The camera sweeps towards Nina's panicked face as she gasps, "Pandora's Box!" Phoebe's mildly annoyed reaction shot fills the screen for a moment before disappearing into the opening credits.
The super-speed opening travelogue whip-saws us through the Bay Area as some aggravating Kate Bush wannabe of an ovary gets nearly ultrasonic with the wailing and such. Shut UP, shrike. We finally land on Prescott Street, where, up in the Manor's nonexistent attic, the presumably now-bathed Psycho does something godless and obscene with a plastic bucket atop a blanket on the floor while his mother abuses the Book of Shadows nearby. "I guess since Excalibur is real, I don't know I'd be surprised Pandora's Box is, as well," Piper sighs wearily as she flips through the Book's pages. Phoebe bounces in from the upper stairs with a mug of something comforting that Nina graciously accepts as Piper wonders, "How did you know to come to us?" "You're the Charmed Ones," Nina duhs, dabbing at the gash on her jaw with a handkerchief. "Everyone in the magical community knows about you." "Yeah," Piper snorts, "that's becoming a problem." "Becoming"? After seven years filled with various dark demonic forces and Stoopid Magikal Kreatures invading your home on a regular basis? Gah. Shut up, Piper. She does zip it, but not because of anything I've said. No, Piper gets real quiet because the Book suddenly vanishes from the stand in a cloud of orbs. It reappears quickly enough in the Psycho's lap, however, so Piper crouches down to her wicked elder child for some entirely ineffectual lecturing. Seriously. Given the child's persistent, glassy, thousand-yard stare, I'd imagine it'd be of as much use as lecturing a certain late resident of Pinellas County, Florida. But what do I know about parenting?
In any event, Piper retrieves the Book and clomps back over to the stand as Phoebe blithers on endlessly about Piper and the Dolt's differing "parenting styles," and if this really is Piper's Issue Of The Week, I can already tell which subplot I'll be ignoring for the rest of the evening. Yawn. Nina, her understandable annoyance creeping through her otherwise patient façade, silently edges over to Piper's side and whispers, "Back to the Box?" Hmmm. I know we know to nothing about Nina, but the forces of good we've encountered on this show have pretty much universally been fawning, mealy-mouthed milquetoasts as far as the Glamorous Ladies are concerned, so might something be not quite right with unusually assertive Nina here? Piper, ignoring me again, snottily supposes, "Lemme guess: A demon took it." "No," Nina bites, "but we better find the guardian before one does." Phoebe dimly repeats the "guardian" bit of Nina's sentence, so Nina launches into a rapid burst of exposition thusly: "Like you, we're chosen beings -- part of a magical lineage, one in which to every generation, a girl is born meant to guard Pandora's Box." So, they're Slayers. I can deal with that. Sort of. Not. EVER. GOD, I hate this show. Actually, since I'm feeling a little charitable with regard to this evening's most prominent guest star, I'll make this show a deal: I'll not question this pathetically belated Buffy rip-off if Michelle Hurd returns to my television screen at once, because the level of interest this episode has managed to drag out of me plunged the instant we returned to the damn Manor during the pre-credits sequence. Ack.
ANY-way, the problem, as Nina would have it, is that "each girl is trained by the guardian -- instructed carefully about the dangers and powers of the Box -- except the one hasn't been." "I'm not following," Phoebe blurts, like, huge surprise there, you pea-brained nitwit. "When Katya, the demon, attacked me," Nina explains, "the Box, perhaps sensing the danger, disappeared on its own, moving on to its guardian." "And you don't know who that is?" Piper guesses. "No," Nina confirms, taking a moment before admitting, "I guess I wasn't expected to survive." Hmmmmmmmm. This all seems veddy, veddy fishy to me. Phoebe wonders what Katya wants with the Box, like, durrrr. Moron! "To open it and release the world's ills," Nina allows, far more patiently than I ever could, "sorrow, famine, plagues -- all the evil inside." "So what's to keep the new guardian from doing the same," Piper eyebrows, "especially if she doesn't know what's inside the Box?" "Nothing," Nina emphasizes, while shooting Piper a Look Fraught With Significance. Piper's expression goes all, "Oh, shit," while stupid Phoebe purses her overly glossed lips.
Over at UC Sunnydale -- um, I mean "UC Berkeley" -- a sassy, diminutive blonde motors through a dorm hallway with her BFF, "Darcy," and is there a reason I should care about this pedeconference they're having about Darcy's boyfriend? Didn't think so. Goodbye, Darcy. No, goodbye, Darcy. I said GOODBYE, DARCY. Thank you! Finally, Darcy bails to make it to her chemistry lecture on time, and This Tiny Blonde Girl Is Totally Not Buffy Summers At All enters her remarkably spacious single alone. Alone, that is, save for the Wings Of Desire-style supernatural whispering that barges in there with her the instant she spots Pandora's Box on her bed. I'm Telling You, This Chick Is Not Miss Summers Of Sunnydale warily circles around her desk and hesitantly approaches the Box as the whisperings keep drifting in and out, their volume increasing and decreasing in no discernible pattern. I tried to decipher what the voices were saying, but it appears to be random strings of Craptin, so, you know. Screw that. Meanwhile, What Do I Have To Do To Convince You She's Not Buffy? has lifted the Box from atop her comforter and now gingerly unlatches the clasp to ease open the lid a fraction of an inch. The whispering's instantly replaced by a wheezing, anguished howl as a jet of black smoke bursts from the narrow opening. Why Won't You Believe Me When I Tell You She's Not Buffy, Dammit? quickly snaps the lid shut while gagging and choking a bit on the cloud, which soon enough rises above her head to clump into strings of foul wickedness that shoot through the dorm room's vent into the hallway beyond. Fuck You, She's Not Buffy wigs.
Not!warts. Raige seethes with pain as the Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord (thanks, The Done One!) grinds into her skull. Raige grunts and vanishes from the frame, revealing Elizabeth Dennehy and the Dolt in the background of the shot. Elizabeth excitedly identifies the Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord as the Whitelighters' "Global Alert," and encourages Raige to view it as a "gift, rather than a problem." Raige, with the Dolt's backing, insists that she doesn't want it. Elizabeth scoffs at the very idea for a bit before adjusting her tone and enthusing, "Becoming a Whitelighter is as natural a part of your unfolding Destiny as becoming a Charmed One." There's much, much more, but as that fucking Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord refuses to shut the hell up, and as I quite honestly couldn't give a flying rat's ass about Raige at this point in the season, I'll just note that Elizabeth and the Dolt seem to arrive at the same crafty plan simultaneously, and convince Raige to accept just one Whitelightery mission of protection for the afternoon, as helping others helps one's self find "clarity," or some such bullshit. Whatever. And...scene. Well...scene, after Elizabeth and the Dolt smugly wiggle their eyebrows at each other over their supposedly clever deception. Yawn.
Nonexistent Attic. Piper's scrying for the Box's new guardian has thus far proved fruitless, so Nina yanks the amulet from her neck, thinking it might facilitate the process. The off-screen Psycho responds to this by dropping a brightly-colored block onto the center of the map with his orbing telekinesis, and that's it. Between snatching the Book away from his formidable mother and this, it's clear the foul, bitter blackness occupying the cavity in his wee chest where his heart should be has clearly recognized "Nina" as a fellow force of evil, and he's thwarting her clever, conniving machinations to, um, steal her masterful plan for himself. Or something. Just go with it. Damn demon child. In any event, I'm betting right now that Katya's a shape shifter, and that the real Nina's rapidly cooling corpse is currently functioning as rat food back in the pre-credits alleyway. Any takers? Didn't think so. You'd be foolish to bet against me. Though I have to admit, this fake-out and gradual reveal has been masterfully constructed and played. Well, as far as this show's standards go, at any rate. Anyway, Piper howls some bitchery in the Psycho's general direction as Katina grumbles impatiently and Phoebe snatches up the amulet and the crystal to continue the scrying herself. While the babbling continues, the crystal slams down on Berkeley, and do you think it could be a little more specific, maybe? I mean, Berkeley's a pretty big campus, and Fuck You, She's Not Buffy is just a tiny little blonde coed. Katina, deaf to my concerns, immediately strides over to the doorway to head to the university alone. Piper and Phoebe protest mightily, given the supposed results of Katina's last encounter with the demon who's after the Box, so Katina reluctantly agrees to swarm Piper over to the campus with her. Phoebe, meanwhile, is to remain at the Manor to warn the ever-useless Elders of this new threat to world order. And, presumably, to keep an eye on the kids, but that's never actually mentioned. Piper snarls something related to her tedious Issue Of The Week before Katina places her hands on Piper's shoulders and swarms on out of there. Phoebe heaves a put-upon sigh of concern. Shut up, Phoebe.
Berkeley. Over in Fuck You, She's Not Buffy's dorm, Piper suspiciously eyes a couple of despairing students while wondering, "What's going on around here? Something's not right." "She must have opened the Box," Katina breathes. "It's the first wave of sorrow." Piper sucks in air and goggles a bit as Katina continues, "We have to hurry before you become affected, too." Katina crosses to Fuck You, She's Not Buffy's door and gives it the back of her hand to scan the room's contents. After she's confirmed they're in the right place, Katina starts rapping her knuckles insistently on the wood as, within, Fuck You, She's Not Buffy babbles something at Darcy via her cell phone. Not Buffy eventually hangs up on her friend and, grabbing at her bag and jacket, crosses to fling open her door. Needless to say, Not Buffy's more than a little surprised to find Piper and Katina blocking her exit. There follows a surprisingly amusing little scene wherein Piper tries to ease Not Buffy into the admittedly unbelievable reality of the situation while Katina's far more impatient and brusque in delivering the relevant information, much to Piper's barely concealed aggravation. Not Buffy, naturally, thinks they're full of shit, and is ready to push past them when Katina finally snaps, "The Box! Where is it?" Not Buffy gets this puzzled expression on her face and pivots to reveal the Box where she'd left it on her bed. Katina elbows her way into the room and retrieves the thing as Piper eases the door shut behind her. "How did it come to you?" Katina demands, her eyes eerily shifting into Manson Lamp mode. "It was just there!" Not Buffy splutters. Piper snarks something about Greek mythology as Katina fondles the Box possessively and speechifies, "Pandora's Box -- a gift the gods gave to Prometheus [WRONG!], one that contained all of the evils of the world." Not Buffy gets this hysterical "Who IS this CRAZY WOMAN in my ROOM?" look on her face as Katina continues, "Until Pandora unleashed them on unsuspecting people." Katina pauses for a moment; then, with her voice sliding down an octave or two, she adds, "I hope to do the same." Piper's eyes widen. "Ah, crap!" Hee. Katina morphs into Katya, completely freaking Fuck You, She's Not Buffy out as Piper continues, "Oh, yeah. This is not good at all!" As I said, a surprisingly good scene.
Unfortunately, we immediately head back to the nonexistent attic for a scene that's neither as well played nor as necessary. And entirely lacking in sense, as proved when Elizabeth Dennehy speed-talks her way through the following explanation of this evening's central crisis to the ever-more befuddled Feebs: "Pandora's Box exists only to tempt -- it's part of the Grand Design. If mankind chooses to open it again, so be it, but guardians are supposed to protect it from being opened by demons." Buh? If the guardians control possession of the thing, how is mankind ever free to choose to open it again? God, I hate this show. Elizabeth asserts that Nina should never have let the Box out of her sight, leading Phoebe to explain that the Box fled Nina's presence of its own accord. Elizabeth claims that that's impossible, as the Box moves on to the successor guardian only when the present one dies. Phoebe's eyes widen at this, and she announces, "Okay, you have to orb me to Piper immediately." D'oh!
Over in Fuck You, She's Not Buffy's now-demolished dorm room, Phoebe materializes alone in a cloud of orbs and frantically calls out Piper's name. Piper presently pokes her head out from behind a battered armoire as the goggle-eyed Not Buffy creeps to her feet from somewhere below. "Who is she?" Phoebe bleats. "Meet Hope," Piper offers, overemphasizing the P in Hope's name, "the real guardian of the Box." You can tell Phoebe's about to launch into a round of the dismayed hooting and yodeling, but Piper cuts her off with a snarkily bright, "Too bad she doesn't have anything left to guard!" No, Piper, it's too bad the crackheaded monkeys on the typewriting staff named the character "Hope," because I am now literally spewing vomit from every orifice in my head, including my ears. The least they could have done was disguise it as "Nadezhda" -- hell, I'll even take "Esperanza," for fuck's sake -- and then hidden that within an easy-to-pronounce yet not-easily-identifiable nickname like "Nadia," and then had an anvilicious reveal at the end of the hour when this Juicy-Couture-swaddled fluffball finally accepts her stupid fucking Destiny, but NO. They had to name the skinny, blonde, Unto-Every-Generation-A-Guardian-Is-Born bint "Hope." GOD, I hate this show, but what I hate even more than this show is the fact that it still might get renewed for an eighth season despite its having sucked mind-boggling amounts of ass for the last three god-awful and endless years.
AAAUAUUAUUAAUGH.
So the three women eye each other before vanishing into the commercials. Haaate.
Hey! There's an idea.
Back from the break, we plunge instantly into a suspiciously familiar scene in which the annoyingly named and suddenly magical innocent receives the short version of the entire history of Good Versus Evil from Piper and the Feebs. It's well paced, and the dialogue is both written and delivered engagingly enough, so, you know, massive props to Cameron Litvack and all three actresses involved, but I swear to God, I've seen this schtick at least forty times over the last seven years -- most recently in January, for the sweet love of Christ -- and come on. Enough already. Anyway, after much persuasion and an unusually effective pep-talk from the shockingly sympathetic Feebs, Haaate agrees to travel back to the Manor with the Glamorous Ladies -- who, by the way, are feeling increasingly "bummed" because of that first wave of sorrow Haaate unleashed earlier. And...scene.
The camera cuts to an establishing pan up the side of the Transamerica Pyramid, before ducking indoors to a tastefully appointed elevator bank on one of the upper floors. Seriously, that's one hell of a plush elevator car Raige has found for herself. I'm half expecting to spot a tasteful little mini-bar in the corner. Joining Raige for this leg of her evening's journey are a veritable bundle of television clichés, including a bickering pair of fortysomething marrieds, a supposedly adorable brunette moppet headed on her own to the lobby to meet her mother, and some fratboy-turned-corporate douchebag whose very appearance makes me recoil in horror from the television screen. Actually, they all make me recoil in horror from the television screen, but him most of all. Long story short, the cab suddenly shudders to a grinding halt between the seventeenth and eighteenth floors, trapping Raige with the others present -- one of whom, she quickly realizes in the dim glow of the car's emergency lights, must be the "future Whitelighter" she was sent to help. Of course, she quickly realizes this out loud, so everyone else looks at her like she's nuts. Muggy McGowan splutters out a verbal save that totally isn't before the scene cuts down to...
...Hell, where Patrick Swayze's Creepy Ugly Naked Tattooed brother hurls a Flaming Ball Of Death at the purloined Box Of Pandora in a failed attempt to flip open its lid. Quite fortunately, Patrick Swayze's Creepy Ugly Naked Tattooed Brother is fully clothed for his appearance on this show. Whew. Katya slinks around the corner to sneer at Creepy Ugly Swayze for a bit before getting positively giddy over the Box's contents, which, she details, have the power "to destroy cities, crumble empires, [and] devastate all that is good in the world." There's a joke about Republicans in there somewhere, but I'm too disheartened to find it. Creepy Ugly Swayze -- who's fairly amusing in his own, low-key manner, like, what's with the sudden appearance of all these engaging guest stars, and where the hell have these people been for the last six goddamned years? -- cocks a brow and wonders a bit dismissively, "All this just to impress Zankou?" Katya grunts, her glee vanishing instantly. "Just asking," Creepy Ugly Swayze shrugs. Hee. She's concocted this entire scheme just to get a little something from the hot overlord of Hell, right? And, really, who wouldn't? Oh, wait a minute. I've totally got that wrong. Katya's just power-hungry. Like every other goddamned dark demonic force on this show. How tedious. "For too long," Katya exposits, circling the table upon which the Box rests, "I've had to watch lesser demons rewarded -- been denied my proper place in the forefront!" "No," she finishes, leaning forward to direct her Cheshire grin at the Box, "Zankou will no longer be able to deny me after this." Creepy Ugly Swayze wonders why Katya doesn't just shape-shift into guardian form to open the Box, leading Katya to um, duh that simply because she might look like a guardian doesn't mean she'll also have access to that guardian's powers. "Then what are you going to do?" he asks. "I'll make her open it for me!" Katya smirks devilishly. The two dark demonic forces take a moment to delight in their supreme wickedness, and again, it's so much more fun when the forces of Hell on this show take pleasure in their work.
Manor. Piper ambles into the parlor from the main hall with the Dolt, explaining that the Book contains no entry on Katya and that scrying for Pandora's Box was utterly useless. Hey! Just like the Dolt! They join Phoebe and Haaate for another round of The Innocent Is Completely Overwhelmed By Her Sudden Knowledge Of All Things Magikal, during which Haaate freaks again, some more when the dead-eyed Psycho unexpectedly orbs into the room from above, and the upshot of all of this is that Haaate vehemently rejects her date with Destiny in favor of continuing on with her vapid, meaningless little existence as a Berkeley coed. Upon receiving yet another call from the distraught Darcy, Haaate rises from the sofa to flee the Manor. Phoebe moves to stop her with, "[Haaate], wait!" "No!" Haaate cries, spinning back to face the Feebs while holding up her right hand, and hooray! Haaate's casual gesture just happens to unleash a blast of shimmering white guardian mojo that plows straight into the Fun Bags and sends Phoebe hurtling backwards through the air to the far side of the parlor, where the Feebs completely demolishes a low bookcase with her bony ass. HA! Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Slow-forward. Two delightful occasions of Phoebe abuse in one hour? That might earn this episode an A. Oh, who am I kidding? They'll knock the grade up to a B-minus at most. Haaate, now appalled at her own hands, stammers, "Oh, my God!" and takes advantage of the resulting confusion to slip out through the Manor's front door. "Phoebe? You okay?" Piper calls out wearily from the depths of an armchair as the Dolt crosses to offer his sister-in-law a hand. "Yeah!" Phoebe replies a bit snottily once she's back on her feet. "Aren't you tired of asking that?" "It does get a little repetitive," Piper sighs, pushing herself from the chair. Try recapping 120 episodes of it, dearie, and then we can talk about repetitive. Piper fully intends to go chasing after Haaate until Phoebe reminds her that they can't force the girl to accept her Destiny. Piper wonders what, then, they're to do in the meantime. Why, get the Box back from Katya before the demon has a chance to open it, of course. Piper grinds her teeth in annoyance and frustration. See above, Piper.
Cliché-Laden Elevator Cab Of The Damned. The shrewish married woman hags something into the intercom at the female security guard on the other end of the line as her wimpy, ineffectual husband groans at her to calm down, while the skeevy, oily fratboy-turned-corporate prick rolls his eyes around and loosens his tie. Raige, meanwhile, is on her cell phone with the Dolt, though it's not clear who phoned whom. Upon learning that the ringing in Raige's ears stopped the moment the elevator shut down, the Dolt determines that Raige should remain where she is -- as if, as she points out, she has any other choice, as she can't exactly orb away with four other people in the car, Dolt -- for the Dentist Drill Of Doom's disappearance signals the presence of her innocent, like, we know that already. God! Fortunately for what little remains of my sanity, Raige's connection dies, cutting the Dolt off mid-monologue. In short order, it becomes painfully apparent that the Bickersons are attempting via therapy to muddle their way through what clearly are irreconcilable differences; the fratboy-turned-corporate prick is a horny scuzzball with a thing for extremely pale women sporting moustaches; and the moppet has a penchant for both panic and asthma attacks but no inhaler. Oy. Raige comforts the moppet while the Bickersons scream at each other and the rebuffed fratboy-turned-corporate prick scales the elevator walls to bang at the ceiling panels. This should suck. Oh, wait. It already does.
Berkeley Dormitory Of Haaate. The coed in question bursts through her door, calling out her distressed BFF's name. She's appropriately horrified when Katya swings the door shut behind her and sidles on over with Darcy's cell phone in her hand. "Wonderful little devices, these things," Katya twinkles as she pushes her face into Haaate's. "It makes luring someone into a trap so...twenty-first century." "Where's Darcy?" Haaate demands. "Oh," Katya faux-pouts while rather menacingly reaching out to twirl a lock of Haaate's hair in her fingers at the same time, "you'll see." Katya presses a hand onto Haaate's shoulder and swarms into the commercial break. DUN!
Not!warts. Piper and Phoebe pause in their frantic search for further information on the current crisis so Piper can bitch endlessly about her Issue Of The Week. Ugh. When they finally swing back around to the matter at hand, Piper realizes she's stumbled across Katya's entry in a volume entitled The Complete Encyclopedia Of Demons. And the Manor Morons don't have a copy of this book back at the house...why, exactly? Oh, you already know how I'm going to answer that question: Because this show sucks, and I want to die. Sigh. In any event, Katya's extremely lengthy entry begins with a familiar enough recitation of her powers and recent history, but if you read through all of what's visible on screen, you'll find it shifts into something completely bizarre involving her place as the "voluptuous woman with the head of a skull" who corresponds somehow to our Eve in the creation myth of the "Puntish people." None of this, of course, has anything to do with this evening's main storyline, and as the far more relevant first paragraph contains nothing we have yet to hear, I'll be moving this along. Phoebe promptly sets to scrying.
Meanwhile, down in Hell, the demon Phoebe's scrying for is skillfully play-acting the role of friendly, sympathetic, and patient Guide To All Things Magikal for the supposed benefit of the still-rattled Haaate. Michelle Hurd quite masterfully plays this scene -- in which Katya very nearly persuades Haaate to open the Box in order to rid Haaate herself of her unwanted responsibility for it -- to the hilt. As she's played all of her scenes this evening, frankly, in the process almost single-handedly lifting what is essentially a filler episode into the ranks of the best this show's presented this season. To put it another way, Michelle Hurd is rocking this episode up, down, and sideways, and why this woman gets so little work is a mystery to me. In any event, Haaate -- almost instinctively -- rebels at the last possible instant. Katya immediately drops the faked solicitude and brings on the brutality. "Lucius!" she roars, glowering at Haaate. In response, Creepy Ugly Swayze manhandles the terrified Darcy into the room from a chamber beyond, presses a nasty-looking dagger against his captive's throat, and then disappears with her from whence he came. "Don't hurt her!" Haaate pleads. "You know what I want," Katya croons with a slight shrug of her shoulders. The camera drops from Haaate's anxious expression to focus on the Box as the whispery Craptin reappears on the soundtrack.
Cliché-Laden Elevator Cab Of The Damned. Let's get through this quickly, shall we? The fratboy-turned-corporate prick's managed to remove a ceiling panel, only to electrocute his worthless ass on a bit of wiring above the cab. This has the unfortunate effect of tossing the moppet into an asthma attack, but it also shuts the Bickersons right up, so, you know, silver lining and all that. Though I'm not sure if the silver lining is the shutting up of the Bickersons or the agonized deaths Moppet and the Prick we could be witnessing in the few minutes. Gah. I hate all of these people. Long story short, Raige orders Wimpy Bickerson to assist as she performs CPR on the Prick, while sending the Shrew to the far side of the car to comfort Li'l Orphan Wheezy. Soon enough, the Prick coughs and splutters back to life, Wheezy's breathing has returned to normal, and Wimpy and the Shrew have fallen in love all over again. God, this show sucks. Coincidentally enough, the instant all these things happen, the elevator jerks back into motion. I'd call that contrivance of the highest order, but since the ever-useless Elders were the ones who sent Raige on this stupid quest in the first place, I wouldn't be surprised if they've been controlling the situation all along. Whatever. Like I care. !
Hell. Haaate places her shaky, wavering hands on either side of the Box. "Open it," Katya threatens, "or your friend dies." Haaate hesitates, but eventually complies. The moment she eases the lid all the way back, a black column shoots up towards the chamber's ceiling, knocking Haaate backwards onto the floor. She gazes up in something approaching stark-eyed terror as the column arches into a massive cloud above her head before clotting into a huge array of the strings we saw earlier. Katya lets loose a low cackle of triumph as the strings surge up into the world through chinks in the chamber's roof. Hey! Wouldn't those chinks drain excess ground water into Katya's tastefully appointed demonic lair every time it rains? The premiums on flood insurance down in Hell must be a real bitch. Anyway, once the Box's contents have vanished, Katya turns on Haaate, a malicious grin spreading across her face as she draws her three-pronged dagger once more from her corset. "B-b-but you said!" Haaate protests, still on the floor. "That I wasn't going to hurt you?" Katya finishes for her before snorting, "Yeah, I lied." "Since the guardian hasn't been born yet," Katya simmers, with a hint of a chiming sing-song sneaking into her voice, as Creepy Ugly Swayze silently appears in the doorway behind her, "with you dead, there won't be anyone around to put everything back." With that, Katya flips the dagger towards Haaate's chest. Reflexively, Haaate whips her hands in front of her body, and the resulting blast of guardian mojo redirects Katya's dagger to clatter harmlessly against the chamber's far wall. Katya's obviously surprised to discover that Haaate has gained some measure of control over her newfound powers so quickly, and gapes in shock as Haaate rises to her feet just as Piper and Phoebe fade into the chamber from points Not!warts. "We're too late!" Piper breathes, spotting the open and empty Box on Katya's table. Creepy Ugly Swayze charges the new arrivals, but Piper quickly dispatches him with a flick from the mighty Hands Of Discontent. "Minions," she sneers derisively as Katya leaps across the cavern, snatches up the Box, and swarms out of there. "What are you doing here?" Phoebe demands of Haaate. Haaate feebly insists she had no choice in the matter, as Katya kidnapped her friend Darcy. "Where is she?" Phoebe demands. Haaate points the way, and Phoebe and Piper storm from the room.
Deep within Katya's lair, Darcy herself cringes on the floor against a boulder, weeping and otherwise traumatized, as Katya swarms in with Pandora's Box. Katya quite awesomely rips Darcy from the ground by her hair and effortlessly flings her into a darkened far alcove before tucking the Box away in a niche, just as Haaate's voice reaches this inner chamber. Katya then assumes Darcy's former position on the floor, and Michelle Hurd -- mopping the floor with this script's silly ass -- perfectly mimics Darcy's cowed, pearl-clutching posture of dismay while allowing her face to crumple into mask of undisguised anguish before Katya completes the transformation by morphing into Darcy's physical form. This woman rocks, people. Piper, Phoebe, and Haaate race into the room, with Haaate rushing immediately to Karcy's side. "Get me out of here," Karcy softly begs. Haaate just wordlessly nods her head as Piper and Phoebe exchange wary glances before vanishing into the final commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. Up in the nonexistent attic, Raige has joined the ladies just returned from Hell for a processing summit that's almost immediately disrupted by Karcy's insistence that she and Haaate leave the Manor, like, yesterday. The upshot of the subsequent bickering is that somehow, both Phoebe and Haaate have silently realized that Katya's morphed into Darcy form, and as Haaate, promising to join her friend soon, lingers in the nonexistent room with Phoebe and Raige under some hastily concocted pretense or another, the perplexed Piper leads Karcy downstairs.
Down in the main hall, there's a bit of unfunny business involving Piper and the Dolt's Psycho-related Issue Of The Week before the Dolt excuses himself and disappears into the kitchen. Piper, left alone with Karcy, makes increasingly distrustful-sounding small talk with the purported coed until Phoebe descends the stairs with Haaate. As Haaate and Karcy exit, Piper grunts, "I hope you know what you're doing." "Trust me," Phoebe replies.
Out on the front porch, Karcy's expression immediately hardens, and she snatches a fistful of Haaate's hair as she gloats, "This is getting to be way. Too. Easy." With that, Karcy morphs back into Katya form and swarms off the porch with Haaate.
Down in Hell, Katya swarms in to that back chamber and slings Haaate onto her ass. Darcy, having regained consciousness at some point, scampers over as Haaate assures her, "I'm okay." "Not for long," Katya grins. Haaate once more insists she wants nothing further to do with Pandora's Box, but Katya disputes that assertion, claiming that, with time, Haaate will come to covet her powers over the Box's many sorrows just as Pandora herself did. As Katya "can't allow that to happen," Haaate must now die. Haaate rises defiantly to her feet and perkily suggests that Katya won't have a choice in the matter. Katya giggles at this before snorting, "You think you can stop me?" She then wings her remaining dagger at Haaate's head. Haaate just as quickly tosses out her right hand and shouts, "Dagger!" in the process sending the weapon into the wall with some orbing telekinesis. Pretty sneaky, Raige. "But guardians can't orb!" Katya cries. "No," Haaaige sasses, "but Whitelighters can -- and into anything they want, too." "Or anybody," she adds with a self-satisfied smirk, right before she's assaulted by a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls that swiftly shifts her back into Raige form. Poor Darcy's about to pass out from all of the magical morphing hijinks this evening. Raige tosses Darcy a reassuring glance, spits out a few quippy remarks, and hurls a vanquishing vial at Katya's feet. Considering what a formidable demon Katya supposedly is, the vanquishing portion certainly does take her out fairly quickly. She barely has time to wail before exploding into gouts of flame that just as rapidly dissipate. With tonight's demonic threat thus dispatched, Raige summons the Box with her orbing telekinesis and presses it into Darcy's palms, instructing Darcy to make sure she gives the thing to Haaate. Raige would do it herself, she explains, but there's "someone [she has] to see." With that, Raige waves her arm around while calling out, "Home!" Darcy dematerializes in a cloud of orbs that whisks her...
...back into the nonexistent attic. Amusingly enough, the orb cloud's forward motion forces Darcy to sort of trot a bit across the floor once she rematerialands in the room. The gals plus Haaate quickly determine that Darcy is who she claims to be, and Phoebe retrieves the Box from Darcy's grip to pass it back to the still-reluctant Haaate. Long story short, Haaate eventually accepts full responsibility of her Destiny or her birthright or whatever, and lifts the lid to recapture all of the evil she'd earlier released. Soon enough, the foul black strings stream into the nonexistent room through every available entrance and, after swirling around the women for a bit, dive into the Box, which snaps shut of its own accord once the evil's safely inside. Life-affirming smiles all around. Yawn.
There's a lovely shot of the Golden Gate Bridge practically glowing in the late afternoon sunlight before we head up to the top of the near tower, where we find Raige pensively waiting for Elizabeth Dennehy. The ever-useless Elder in question presently orbs in, and give me a fucking break. The future Whitelighter Raige saved in the elevator? Was herself. This show can blow me.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Piper ambles onto the sun porch to wrap up her shared Issue Of The Week with the Dolt and the kids, and how's this for a resolution: Their problems with the Psycho are no more, because the Psycho accidentally whacked himself in the head with a toy he'd orbed over to hims-- you know what? Fuck this. Tiny Gay Chris, whom they have at long last recast with an infant whose appearance I can tolerate, is adorably animated and squirmy, and that's all the recapping you'll be getting from me as far as this scene is concerned. This uneven, but generally entertaining, episode finally comes to a close when the Psycho, at Piper's prompting, floats a couple of toys into the air with his orbing telekinesis. Piper gazes fondly at her boys for a long moment before we finally fade to black.
So, you want to know what happens week? Me, too, but the WB didn't think a promo was necessary at this juncture in this show's history. Idiots. Then again, the lack of a promo could be a sign they're finally going to cancel Charmed's ass. And if that's the case, the suits at the WB are the smartest executives in all of Hollywood. Have fun!