Night of the Comet

A foundational influence on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so obviously I watched it when it came up on Netflix. It's a 1980s horror-comedy which isn't particularly scary and where the comedy is partly about the film's own knowingness about the genres it's operating in. So you can see why Joss Whedon might have been into it. The film starts off in a cinema and has several key scenes in a radio studio, and both the movie posters that decorate the sets and the brash pop music soundtrack (mostly diegetic) provide a metacommentary on the unfolding plot. That distancing effect crosses into the dialogue. There is some (unconvincing) acknowledgement of the trauma of having the world end, but for the most part the survivors react to the situation with a healthy amount of ironic detachment.

Eberhardt's inspiration for the script came from joking around with teenage girls about what they would do in a zombie apocalypse, and reflecting the fact that his respondents were mostly worried about not being able to date anymore. The sense of possibility inherent in a largely automated world where the adults have disappeared is at the heart of the film and is highlighted by its ending, where the guns are put away and a new and happier family unit is established amidst the ruins of the city. The apocalypse purifies the world of absent fathers and abusive mothers, and allows for the creation of something new. You can see the impact on Whedon when he describes most of his projects as being about the formation of alternate families.

Part of the film's purpose is to demonstrate that typical California girls are tougher and more resourceful than the horror movie stereotypes would have you expect. They can be sexually active, obsessed with arcade games or on the cheerleading squad and still fight off zombies. The big twist in the film is also gendered, in that the government agent you expect to be evil but who ends up saving the kids is a woman overruled by her male superiors. The film has a refreshingly uncondescending approach to its hard-bitten female characters. It's yet another thing Whedon will have picked up on when creating Buffy.

The Gap Between Panels / Buffy As Comfort Food

Latest post on the London Graphic Novel Network stays true to my obsessions – in this case Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which I never tire of telling people is the greatest television series of all time. David Simon magnanimously conceded that it was so, if you don't believe me. Anyway, the column goes in on the comics that continue the story after the end of the show, and which get better with each new 'season'. Read it here.

The Gap Between Panels / That Feeling of Vertigo

Third column at the LGNN blog takes The Unwritten as a starting point and delves into those comics that are particularly bewildering in their speediness. Somehow manage to rope in Machiavelli, Nietzsche and Napoleon to make the point. (I knew that Masters degree will come in useful eventually!) Read it here.

Avengers: Age of Ultron

Whedon acquits himself well handling what is an organisational nightmare of a film. With millions having seen at least some Marvel Studios output, at least he didn't have to worry about introducing the characters. But he does have to make room for each of them, and commendably he rations the time in favour of those without their own film franchises. While Cap has a moment lamenting his lost past and Thor goes off to take a bath (for reasons that remain mysterious), we learn a lot more about Black Widow and Hawkeye. And Whedon injects quite a bit of himself into the latter's secret family retreat. But the rest is a rehash of preoccupations he has covered in more detail before. Natasha Romanov's history of abuse and conditioning make her into a lost sister of Echo in Dollhouse. And Stark's ambition to built armour around the world feels like revisiting Serenity's Isaiah Berlin-like distrust of utopian visions.

Avengers finds Whedon shackled to Marvel's ridiculous narrative demands, and unlike so many times before, he has learned to deliver. But this has come at the expense of the idiosyncrasy and originality that doomed so many of his earlier projects. No wonder he's a bit sick of the treadmill now (meanwhile J.J. Abrams shows no sign of slacking). Whedon's brilliant Much Ado was done during a break in the filming of the first Avengers film. I for one am really looking forward to what he does after this one.

Much Ado About Nothing

I haven't read or seen the play before watching Whedon's adaptation, although a brief bit of research afterwards uncovered that the text does provide some support for the opening scene in which we see Benedick and Beatrice wake up after a night together. The conversation which hints at their estrangement is included in the film ("you have lost the heart of Segnior Benedick"), but I didn't clock it when I watched it. It's a smart addition not only because it explains the bitterness between the two at the start, but also because it links in with the broader themes of the adaptation. Whedon is open about the sexy places he wanted to take the story, and switching Don John's follower Conrade into a female lover was done purposefully. The license displayed at the parties in the mansion serves to highlight the hypocrisy underlying the accusations levelled at Hero at her wedding. Male pride demands that the wives men choose for themselves remain chaste, and yet these rules are frequently (inevitably) flouted, hence the obsessive talk about cuckoldry. Moreover, accusations of impropriety are weapons used to inflict harm on political enemies, women being used as discardable tools in the struggle between male lords.

If there is one possible misstep in the whole film, it is in the portrayal of the grossest example of this behaviour. Margaret is seduced by Borachio, and the way the scene is shot suggests that he might be raping her. Later on, Whedon includes Margaret's jab at Benedick "Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own", which echoes Beatrice's speech at the film's climax, and it's a quiet moment rather than a funny one. But the weddings at the end brush past Margaret's experience a bit too swiftly – perhaps Whedon could have lingered just a bit longer on Ashley Johnson before the party starts swinging again at the end.

Iron Man Three

Shane Black definitely leaves his own imprint on the series. It's darker and scarer, but also quirkier: the quick-fire witticisms are present but they form a kind of ambient background for the real standout gags, which feel a bit like something out of Arrested Development, obsessively calling out and undercutting the conventions that structure the narrative. Black also wraps up the series in a really satisfying way: Stark finally lets go of the technology he relied on to stay alive and protect himself from the chaos around him. The film describes the suit as a 'cocoon' from which a whole Tony Stark can emerge from. Indeed, extremis (which he uses in the end to heal himself) serves as internal armour, a nice symbol that could have been developed further.

Unfortunately, Aldrich Killian is too much of a cartoon villain for this to work out. His motive is less an understandable (even sympathetic) drive for self-perfection and more a typical Dr. Doom-like resentment at the successful hero, and we've been here before with Sam Rockwell. Maya Hansen is a more ambiguous character, but doesn't have enough time to establish herself. Perhaps it would have been better to have her as the duplicitous mastermind, as she was in the Warren Ellis comic.

I still prefer Favreau's Iron Man, which maintains a clear thematic through-line and is impressively compact (apart from the robot punching at the end). Favreau was lucky in that Stark was a more interesting character back then, shifting dramatically from apathetic hedonist to troubled hero. Black is dealing with a hero fully-formed, now suffering from anxiety attacks caused by a brush with death. Even this could have been developed further, tho – just steal from Lovecraft. Stark faces down the awesome hostility of the universe and comes back fretting about how the hell the Earth can be protected. You could even add an existentialist twist: have him wondering whether his fellow human beings, trigger-happy with their nuclear weapons, are worth saving. Admittedly difficult to build up all this drama and provide a neat conclusion for the trilogy. Perhaps this stuff is being banked for when Joss Whedon puts everything together again in 2015.

The Avengers

My problem with The Avengers is that Thor was too good. Specifically, Tom Hiddleston in Thor, whose performance I think matches the range and intensity of Heath Ledger's Joker. As Film Crit Hulk (my own film crit hero) points out, in The Avengers Loki serves to accentuate and develop the arcs of the six main characters. But this leaves less room to explore his own background and motivations.

Let's look at those anyway. From Thor, Hiddleston brings a feeling of resentment and ambition, but he also takes on something of the Red Skull's ideology in Captain America. Humans have weak minds imprisoned in frail bodies, and require a Nietzschean strong man to rule them. Happiness for most lies in the predictability of slavery — the alienation of the responsibility associated with free will.

And the way humanity decides to fight this evil is... to get a bunch of strong men to defend or avenge them. There is a tension here, which was brought out for me in a scene between Captain America and two cops, where the latter claim the responsibility of defending the innocent, before willingly divesting themselves of that responsibility as soon as Cap demonstrates his superior strength. This moment is played for laughs, and sure Cap's authority comes from charisma rather than fear — the fact that the Avengers use their power to defend freedom makes them the heroes. And the totemic idea of Phil as the rallying force behind the team gives an 'of the people' spin on their activities. I'm aware of all that. But when I remember Nietzsche's point that charisma is ultimately produced by fear, the vox pop platitudes at the end of the film leave me with some rather uncomfortable feelings.

Whedon's work always pits the small guys against the big evil. Without the army, Loki is just one big guy against six (which includes the Hulk). A more satisfying villain for Whedon would have been the shadowy (quite literally) cabal behind S.H.I.E.L.D, and the film takes some steps in that direction. Whedon undercuts Fury's endorsement of nuclear weapons; the problem of the alien invasion is solved without them. Retaliation is delivered in spite of what the Avengers were doing on the ground in Manhattan, and it is clear that it will have serious repercussions in the next film, as the strike draws the eye of Thanos. If Whedon is indeed to direct the sequel, I expect extraterrestrials will not be the only antagonists the new team will have to face.

ETA: There has been a bit of discussion about the relative objectification of Black Widow compared with Catwoman in The Dark Knight Rises. It did strike me when watching the latter that the Nolans were overtly taking care to ensure that Anne Hathaway was never sexualised by the film itself, only by characters in the film. On the other hand, The Avengers features a two-shot of Scarlett Johansson with Tom Hiddleston in which this happens (thank you internet). The thing to emphasise about the frame is that it does work on a character level — Black Widow as this rooted immovable object on which Loki is weaving his manipulative spells. But it also features a leather-clad arse squarely in the audience's face (i.e. a sexual object on which the audience are invited to...) POINT BEING, both of these things are going on. I guess for those not interested in Johansson's arse, the character stuff may be enough of a justification for the shot to be framed in this way, but I have to admit that it took me right out of the film. Points lost there, Mr. Whedon. Also, me.

Should say that I think in other respects Black Widow's character bests Catwoman's in the feminism game, in that the Nolans end up throwing Kyle at Batman as a consolation prize for his trials, while Romanoff is more self-defined throughout. It's tricky though, because both characters essentially conform to the same femme fatale archetype. I do like Whedon's decision to emphasize the way Black Widow consciously creates the impression of vulnerability in order to work loose the prizes she is after (an aaaage is spent establishing this trait at the beginning of the film). Using femininity as a way to exploit patriarchy for your own ends. It's not a new idea (you could argue the femme fatale archetype is built on this), but a good way of addressing her sexualisation in the future. Black Widow CHOOSES to be objectified. The impression of weakness is a weapon wielded from a place of strength.

Superman Beyond

May have been in a darker place when I wrote this. Obv I haven't been able to stick to the comix downsizing that was promised. I've quit Ultimate Spidey and X-Factor for cost reasons, and becasue I get better Bendis and David elsewhere (you should really check out Scarlet and Fallen Angel). Buffy Season 8 ended pretty well, with a welcome confession of sins from Whedon in the final issue, so I'll be picking up the new season when it comes out. Plus I keep buying trades -- this comix disease just cannot be rid of!

That's just the background to me having a second run at Final Crisis. I'm abt half-way thru now. It's telling, perhaps, that I quit last time just before reaching the centre-piece of the story, the two issue Superman Beyond arc. If I had read it then, I may have been much more enthusiastic about the whole book. The writing here is really quite dense -- symbols and patterns weaved with dazzling skill. I just want to unravel some of them, for reference more than anything.

Monitor is absolute and perfect, a white conscious void. (God?) Flaw encased in concept containing contradictions / events / stories. It's harmful: stories destroy / limit / define. Mysteries infect Monitor. History begins.

Contact makes probe split in two. One half a Silent Sentinel, a doomsday weapon to be used at the end of the world / final crisis. (Christ?) Other half Dax Novu. Seeks knowledge, infected with the bleed / life (body?). Died to chain beast / himself. Becomes Madrakk, eater of life. Will be unleashed at the end of the world / final crisis, when Monitor civilization declines and falls. (Lucifer? Anti-Christ?)

Mammon / Madrakk the evil god of greed / property / material wealth. Coming out of the bleed / void into the multiverse. (Body taking over the mind? Addiction to story?)

Superman and Ultraman not dualities but symmetries. Beyond conflict. Hate crime fused with selfless act. An act of enormous power. Transcendent.

The Silent Sentinel awakes (awesome letterbox effect on this page!) in the city of Monitors (readers?) between dimensions / panels. Realm of form and meaning to realm of primal forms. Weeja Dell meets him and leads him to final battle. Lover of Nix Voltan who would have fought against the Vampire Gods, but was killed / exiled unjustly.

Madrakk holds elixir of life, only vampires can consume it. Madrakk believed into existence, but Superman a better story. Madrakk is Dax Novu corrupted. Superman knows his origin, and kills him. Even the idea of him lost and forgotten.

"To be continued" a warning: stories never end. Carved on tombstone: life after death after life.

Part 1: Ogama cast down where he can do no harm. Feeds Ultraman the blood of Madrakk. Will return when Superman is weak.

Part 2: Superman wakes his sleeping beauty with a kiss. Feeds Lois the bleed and revives her. Remembers and saves while Madrakk forgets and kills.

Character's dreams, character's lives, our dreams and our lives, all resonate with story.

Enough fragmentary notes. These two issues tell a kind of meta-story behind ALL stories: tragedies, comedies, the quest... The presence of Captain Atom -- Watchmen's Dr. Manhattan -- might signal the kind of ambitions Grant Morrison has here. It's an staggering piece of myth-building, an intelligent exploration of our collective unconscious, and a supreme achievement in comics, really.

Blasts Secret Invasion out of the water, that's for sure.

ETA: Finished the book last night. It was huge, constantly surprising and very very awesome. There's just one more detail to add to the ramble above. The final crisis is only that of the Monitor race. They have decided to stop interfering with the earth and surrender to the bleed / life. Also significant that the humans and super-humans win using Metron's gift of knowledge. Has Morrison been reading Feuerbach, one wonders? We don't need the gods anymore. They have become human beings.

The one line that effectively summarizes all of the above: "This is the story of all our stories."

Dollhouse Episode 2.10

Some nodules:

Last post we talked about crazy. WE SPOKE TOO SOON. This one was straight-up mental in the best possible way. Things going bump in the night. IN YOUR HEAD.

Acclaimed comix artist John Cassaday (who worked on Whedon's Astonishing X-Men) is responsible for the direction, and if this was his first gig, props props props! The shootout, the giant snowcapped tree, the apocalypse. Everything looked gorgeous. And a generous helping thrills and scares. Perfect.

The obligatory Tony + Priya SO CUTE squeek over here. SQUEEK! ... and I'm done.

As for the ending, well this is what we've been waiting for! The leading figures in the Dollhouse becoming a TEAM. A family fighting alone against the world. This is where Buffy, Angel and Firefly STARTED from. This is what all Whedon products are ABOUT. And with this show, we had to wait TWO FREAKIN YEARS before we get there. That, in a nutshell, is why Dollhouse failed to engage the fans and the wider audience.

Great reveal and everything, but did DeWitt had to be so cruel to everyone beforehand? A bit storytelling > character, I feel...

But WHO CARES! We have definite Scoobies vs. Big Bad set up now. ONWARDS!

Dollhouse Episode 2.4

Some notaries:

Hey now where is Ballard? The commentary reveals all. Show has no money, so we get less actors. Boo! Thankfully, there is enough stuff going on so that we don't feel the absence.

Like, with Boyd! Finally! Of course he'll have a dark past. What paternal character in a Whedon show doesn't? Those father figures... ya just can't trust 'em.

And Topher starts to open up. Finally! DeWitt, as usual, does the spelling out. You don't have a conscience, you just like to play with people. And now someone is taking your toys away. But what really makes Topher spiral is the comparison with this episode's bad guy -- the brain doctor who fucks up Sierra's mind, enslaves her and rapes her. Isn't Topher pretty much doing the same thing? Isn't HE also the bad guy? In the end he gets his toy back, but he's not sure if he wants to play anymore.

Dichen Lachman isn't here for the funnies this episode. She's her for the happy, defiant, angry, scary, crazy, horrified, sad, etc, etc, ET CETERA. Astonishing stuff.

Meanwhile, Victor does Italian and cute, fluffy bunny. SO CUTE! Marvellous. The love blossoms are not corny enough for me to resist the sappy. Go sap!

Two songs this episode. The first ("Drones") performed by Jed Whedon. Lovely stuff. The second is only "Travelling Woman" by freaking BAT FOR LASHES. As soon as those piano chords drifted in I knew. Pumped. And for sitting through all the terror and darkness, we are rewarded with a beautifully hopeful shot at the end.

If we forget all about the second episode, this second season is shaping up pretty well...

Dollhouse Episode 2.2

Some notez:

Apparently Topher codes instincts now. Echo can't forget being a mother because her body isn't letting her. You lactate, you have a 'maternal instinct', you cannot be fucked with. Umm... kinda weird territory, isn't it? Is motherhood all about biology?

Of couse, the guy can't do the fatherhood thing properly, because... what? The biology isn't there? Instead, only psychological hurdles need to be overcome -- Nate has to stop thinking his son killed his wife.

Again, very strange ground the show has found itself in. Where did the feminism go, guys?

Not a total bust, however. The episode did draw a rather interesting parallel between the way Madeline and Echo deal with the loss of their children. The former chose to forget, and has become comfortable, cold, 'not sad'. The latter chooses to remember, letting the sadness in, because feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all. John Keats would have liked that sentiment.

Looks like Senator Wesley is this season's Paul Ballard. How very last year. You wonder where this will go. THERE'S A MOLE AGAIN! Yawn...

The teaser. Exposition much? Clunk!

The thunder and butcher's knife combo was a bit OTT, really. Buffy etc. could get away with such silliness, because it spent much of the time aping and mocking genre cliches. Dollhouse is going for a serious sci-fi feel, so these references end up becoming straight cliches. Fail.

Where is Boyd?

Where are the jokes?

Where for the love of any and all gods is Joss Whedon?

Dollhouse Episode 2.1

AAAAND WE'RE BACK! Coverage of Dollhouse Season 2, long promised, is finally ready for broadcast.

In a conversation about a week ago, my infinitely wise friend over at Shark Attack revealed that the final season of Angel had to be watched THREE TIMES before the love could grow. You shudder at the thought... but it's kinda true -- Whedon shows require work if they are to be fully appreciated. I understand that better than ever now having emerged from my THIRD viewing of 'Vows' this week. This episode was dense, and unpacking it is probably something best left to more capable Whedon scholars. But I'll start my own exegesis over here, because there's no way I can shut up about this Dollhouse business. Rule one of the blogger's code: ignorance is no brake on enthusiasm.

Some notes:

A bit like the episode itself, we should start with the funnies and the techie stuff. First off, Tempura Joe. Love that! Second, Sierra vs. Ivy. And the nuff HAS BEEN SAID. Also, the tracking shot following Toph from bunk to HQ is pretty Battlestar, is it not? In fact, the lighting as a whole has gone from blasting hotel-lobby gold to chilly, space-station blue. A welcome change, Imo. Team Whedon must have taken a good hard look at 'Epitaph One' and thought... yeah, that's cool. Also, hey arty dissolves on the dance-floor! And hey arty sex/isolation mashup montage! Cinema! Marvelous!

Now to the substance. Let's attack the Saunders breakdown, which is pretty much what made this episode so difficult, and so incredible. Tough, because we are dealing with three characters on top of each other (real person, Whiskey, Dr. Saunders) and because there's a whole false consciousness metaphor on top of THAT. The mind is left rather boggled.

Well, actually, turns out Whedon sums it up rather brilliantly in the first exchange between Saunders (you designed me) and Topher (if you're losing it, it's your fault). Saunders has discovered she is a doll. She is not privileged like she thought. She has also been constructed by that sociopath in a sweater-vest. Even when you have power, you can't escape your gender, your objectification. Saunder's reaction is to deny responsibility -- I can't change because I'm built that way. Boyd is the first to tell her that EVERYONE is poorly constructed, and that defeatism is just an excuse.

But it's Topher that hammers the message home. Saunders wants him to confess to being a sick, evil pervert -- that he designed her to hate him so that he could win her around and have true love. The hatred she feels for her maker, the Big Brother, the ruling Male, would not be her fault. But Topher does not comply. I don't know you, he says. When constructing Saunders, for practical reasons Topher wanted a real person. Which means she chose to hate him. She IS privileged, even if she has been moulded by forces she cannot abide. She can recognise them, and fight them, if she chooses to. But that would mean going out into the world, which is scary as hell. Toph tries to comfort -- that fear means you're human. Don't flatter yourself, Saunders shoots back. She doesn't say it, but by the end of the episode we know what she's thinking: I'll MAKE myself human.

On to Ballard. The end of the first season left us hanging on what in the seven hells he was doing. But DeWitt is there to explain. He was done with Mellie, but he still wants something from Echo. Ballard admits he strives to do what's right, but he doesn't know what that means anymore. He's compromised -- his fantasies of righteousness involve using Echo for his purposes. Where does helping end and getting off on helping begin? A tension perfectly exposed in the climactic scene where Ballard's verbal and physical assault on Echo is cut up with flashbacks of all the times he's promised never to hurt her. He tried to get her out and free, but he didn't. The dual motives go further -- while Ballard is trying to make Echo snap, there is something genuine being uncovered when he talks about trading his life, betting everything, and not getting anything in return. As he confesses afterwards, he wasn't his best. Fantasies have dark sides when they remain unfulfilled.

Finally, Echo. DeWitt is aware that she is evolving, and is comfortable with letting the experiment run. But Echo's moments of lucidity are dangerous for the Dollhouse. She doesn't take too long in telling Saunders that no one is their 'best' in here. You can't help glitching when you are confronted with so many lies. That's what Ballard is after when he's slapping her around. At the end of the episode she remembers everything, and everyone she's been. But thoughts of Caroline, the person she was, turn quickly to finding her other selves. I'm all of them, she says, but none of them are me. She's not going to be able to go back. The Dollhouse has imprinted too many roles over her personality for Caroline to remain uncorrupted. Wiping doesn't work. There is no blank slate left. Echo will have to build a new identity with what her oppressive environment has given her.

And who does she turn to? Ballard, who has broken so many vows already, whose fantasies can harm as much as help. But who else is she to trust? And will the 'wedding' at the end of the episode end as disastrously as the one at the beginning? We'll have to wait and see...

Dollhouse Season 1 recap (part 1)

Because I'm obsessed. Also because you find out new things the second time around, which is a sure sign that the show is worth investing in. Or that I am an idiot.

Episode 1
Why Echo was hired rather than a real negotiator WAS explained. The client wanted 'clockwork', and Dolls are always better than real people. Giving Echo weaknesses was explained at length, and I buy it. That IS how human beings work. Excellence always has a motive. People thinking the show is stupid just aren't getting how clever it is.

Episode 2
What is Alpha doing?

Episode 3
Shows how certain constructs of femininity fuck up men as much as they do women.

Episode 4
Better than I remember. The midwife scene, the marble scene, the painting scene, all comment on innate and learned abilities. Also, action was pumping.

Episode 5
Toph and Saunders were hilarious. Did not give the funnies enough credit.

This was a problem:

'The blind girl is looking at you in the eye, do you know what that means? It means God brought me here. He has a message for you. And that message is MOVE YOUR ASS!'

Not the sort of language you would expect from a Christian girl. A bit far, Mr. Minear.

Episode 6
First time around, did NOT understand the bit at the very end where Echo decides to finish the engagement herself. Whedon describes it as very dicey, but for me some of the ambiguity of the final scene is lost. The fact that Echo chooses to participate in someone else's fantasy suddenly makes the whole thing less problematic. It's still a warped happy ending, but I preferred it when it was just warped, and the happy ending depended on which side (Joel or Echo) you take.

Whedon is very coy about the themes of the show in his commentary. Which is fine, since the issues are sensitive, and you don't want to offend people. I do wish he was more confident about putting HIS views out there. But the episode is about NOT pontificating, so I guess it's appropriate.

He also talked about a bunch of stuff that didn't really occur to me: the contrast between the way Dushku and Oswalt look, for one. Which just goes to show that the things I read into Whedon's work may just be me making things up. Or to refine that a little: giving my answers to the questions Whedon asks. There, that sounds better.

Dollhouse Unaired Pilot

And you thought the Dollhouse posts had gone away!

As I understand it, this pilot was canned because the network wanted to up the cars and money and guns and women. Whedon gave them what they wanted, and the result was one of the most off-putting opening segments of a show ever. He caved. I recognized the fact that he caved, and I forgave him. You put up with a lot when you're in love.

My infatuation might make my opinions suspect and perhaps compromised, but may I just say how I thought the original blueprint was a lot better than the one Whedon had to tape together after his UNIQUE VISION OF GENIUS was HACKED TO PIECES by the network. I should pause here to add the required DIE FOX DIE! fanboi battlecry, and with that we can move on.

Some notes:

Swimming pool opening scene as a metaphor for birth. And for Whedon, quite a subtle one. Very nice.

The first talky-talky scene was more problematic. The whole idea was pretty unconvincing, and the actors didn't get to grips with it that well, Dushku in particular. But at least it was doing the irony thing that Dollhouse would continue to do over and over again in the standalones. Don't be dominated by men. Go back to your mum and get a handle on yourself. Less subtle, but still nice.

Talk. Lots of talk. I'm gonna plant the flag for talk, actually. A lot more interesting than the cars and money and guns and women mentioned above. The exposition felt slightly contrived (this was a problem with the aired pilot as well), but what the hey. Interesting talk! That is still a rare and valuable commodity in American sci-fi shows.

Most importantly, the episode was about Ballard. Instead of the season arc unfolding slowly, which just left us wondering when things would heat up, the central confict was set up straight away. THEN the show could have pulled back to do standalones. Without the structure of the season laid out, Dollhouse just seemed to meander around aimlessly, hemorrhaging viewers. In fact, the point of the standalones was to make comparisons between the dolls and various opressed characters, and so demonstrate the pertinence of the Dollhouse idea. But that's not enough for most viewers, and rightly so. Dollhouse, the way it turned out, just didn't give you enough of a broader picture to invest in. This unaired pilot, even with its faults, did.

Serenity

...which I re-watched with two doubting friends last night. I had subjected both to the film before, and they remain unconvinced a second time around. Which is confusing and frustrating. Am I the only one thinking this film is perfect? What flaws do others see in it that I can't? Am I just very delusional?

Very probably.

This is important for me to establish, because my working theory is that Joss Whedon is a genius and that no right thinking person could think otherwise after watching his work. The only reason he's not a millionaire is that people haven't watched his work, because it looked rubbish (Buffy, Angel), or because it wasn't given a chance (Firefly). Obv, this theory has failed too many tests for it to really 'work' anymore (Serenity, Dollhouse). Whedon may not actively put people off, but he's certainly not impressive enough. Others just don't find him as impressive as I do.

Why?

Easy enough to answer: I share Whedon's politics and taste. I like his b-movie sensibilities, his language, his humour. I agree with what he says. Very broadly: Buffy's emphasis was on friendship and family, Angel on religion and virtue, Firefly / Serenity on politics and society, Dollhouse on feminism and oppression, although the amount of overlap makes the above summary almost meaningless. I'm a pretty fervent believer in all the propositions of 'Whedonism'. I stress that this is not so much a conversion as Whedon voicing the thoughts already in my head. The fact that he does so with superheroes, monsters and kung-fu just completes the What Mercer Loves Most Equation.

On Serenity in particular, the doubting friends suggested two fails, one minor, one major. The minor was Wash's death, which was sudden, random and not paid off adequately. The thing is, Anya's death served exactly the same purpose in Buffy's finale, was paid off even less, and yet it worked for the Whedon fiend among my two friends. I can only speculate (he'll be reading this, so he'll let me know) that he had grown very fond of Wash's character in Firefly, and so the quick, unglamourous end he met felt almost disrespectful. The few moments of Zoe's reaction were not enough to pay proper tribute. In Firefly, Wash was a complex character. In Serenity, he's reduced to being comic relief and cannon fodder. It's callous.

You cannot argue against such feelings. I can only suggest that this discomfort only underlines the point of the death -- that it's random, shocking, unheroic, unfair. That it hurts. And yet we don't have time to process that hurt. Like Zoe, we are angry, and yet there's business we have to attend to. It's a shoddy defence, but it's the only one I have. Personally, I remain impressed by how much the death is paid off in a film that has seven or eight other characters to wrap up. Every Zoe scene after Wash's death is about Wash. We don't see her break down, but I didn't expect her to. She is a soldier first. The cold fact is, she can survive pretty well without Wash, and I fully expected their relationship to disintegrate if Firefly ran forever. Whether Zoe can survive without Mal is another, more interesting, matter...

The major problem is more complex. Whedon's anti-authoritarian stance was admired, but the doubting friends didn't see it as a particularly novel theme. Star Wars or Avatar make exactly the same point, so why is Serenity better? Well, (GRAAH!) a LOT of films make the same point, but some do it better than others. The villains in Star Wars are villains because they dress like Nazis. They are cartoons. Avatar is no better. You don't find a character as rich as Chiwetel Ejiofor's Operative in either film. Serenity's evil empire is rather more nuanced. You can tell because the villain is self-aware, even sympathetic. He isn't killed physically, but spiritually. This is a film about ideas: about ends and means, about the distortions of ideology, about religion (note the references to sin). Ultimately (as with all Whedon products) it's about family -- the communal and equal triumphing over the individual and authoritarian. Not novel themes, sure. But they are expressed with an intelligence and a force rare to find in space opera b-movies. That makes Serenity pretty special in my book.

It really does look like most people need something more than that, and that my standards are pretty low. A lot of friends, after I've gone on about how amazing Serenity is, have expresses astonishment at how adequate it turned out to be. Cool yr jets, man, it's not THAT good! So maybe it's about expectations, and me creating the wrong ones. Maybe I should stop acting like Joss Whedon is the new Orson Welles. It seems to be doing his work a disservice.