Dollhouse- Thoughts after the First Three Episodes

I've been a Joss Whedon fan since the very first time I caught a random Season Two episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the WB. My admiration for Whedon TV greatly deepened when he created Firefly, translating his special mix of comedy and drama, wordplay, and ensemble acting, from the horror realm to science fiction.

So I was pretty excited about the premiere of his latest series, Dollhouse. Now that the first three episodes have aired, it's time to think about how the series is living up to my expectations.

Dollhouse is not exactly what I expected. And, strangely, that's okay.

The first big departure from Whedon's previous work is a change in his recipe for equal parts comedy and drama. Dollhouse mixes action and intrigue (with some strategic drama). Is there any comedy in the series at all? A little- the comedy is sparsely sprinkled in, like raisins in a cookie you were hoping was chocolate chip.

Hand-in-hand with the departure of comedy's role is the absence of wordplay. Heroine Echo has no time to quip or bandy pop culture references with her foes- she is normally too busy racing across the screen on foot, on motorcycle, in helicopter. And the show's other characters are usually too caught up casting conspiratorial glances to produce either comedy or drama.

One of the three big hallmarks of Whedon TV stands firm in Dollhouse: ensemble acting. Whedon makes no mistake about his leading lady- like Buffy, Echo is core to the story, and without her the plot and the world would crumble. At the same time Whedon is slowly, carefully, filling in the backgrounds of other intriguing characters: an FBI agent obsessed by uncovering the Dollhouse, Echo's Handler (who echoes the BtVS Watcher- pun intended), fellow Active, Sierra, and the mysterious and dangerous Alpha.

I'm really looking forward to the next episode of Dollhouse. So far it has been a well-crafted blend of action and intrigue, with drama popping up where I least expected it- in the course of exploring Echo's temporary, imprinted personalities. The fact that Whedon draws drama out of a character who essentially arises from nowhere and disappears at the end of every episode, fascinates me.

My biggest concerns with the series are the depth of the world, and how Whedon will draw out and deepen the intrigue. Why does the Dollhouse exist- simply as a screenwriting convenience to explore a character like Echo? I'm trusting Whedon has deeper motivations in mind, that will draw his ensemble of characters into stickier and stickier moral territory.

So, am I disappointed by the changes in Whedon's yummy TV recipe? No. I'm tasting, I'm chewing, I'm tasting again. Of course I like chocolate chip cookies. But oatmeal raisin is pretty scrumptious, too.

Vampires for Change (Monsters with Human Faces)

Most spec fiction writers I know have posed this question, in one way or another:

Vampires: Why are they so popular? Didn't we, quite recently, already do vampires? So why is everybody into vampires *again*? And when will it stop?

One version of this authorial vampire angst was left as a comment right here on my blog.

The answer I usually give to this question is: sexuality. The vampire myth, with its exchange of bodily fluids, is a great metaphor for sex. As each new generation goes through its sexual awakening, vampires stories are a great way to explore sexuality. But this answer rings a little hollow. After all- adults hop happily onto the undead band wagon when vampire stories surge in popular culture.

A better answer to "why vampires, *again*!?" came to me yesterday, when my husband sent me a link to the plot synopsis of True Blood (True Blood is a vampire series currently on HBO- my husband wants to talk me into subscribing to HBO so he can watch Flight of the Concords).

Vampires are super popular now, and were super popular several years ago, not because of the sexual connotations of their mythos, but because vampires are monsters with the faces of men.

Probably one of the best books I've ever read by Stephen King wasn't a work of fiction, but his Danse Macabre, in which he explains the psychology that makes his craft work. He talks about the sci fi and horror movies of the 1940's-1960's, and explains that fears of the American mainstream were expressed and digested in the form of genre fiction films.

King says there is a reason that aliens in sci fi flicks of that era have Asian features- because aliens from outer space were standing in for American fears about aliens from across the sea. He talks about fear the adult middle class felt toward the rising independence of the teenager in the 50's (read teenage werewolf film), about fear of air raids and bombs dropping (meteors and alien space craft crashing down from the sky). King posits that successful horror and sci fi film makers took fears of the American middle class, and turned those fears into monsters- into tangible bogeymen who could spook us, attack us, horrify us, but eventually be overcome.

So if vampires are the bogeymen of modern-day, mainstream American fears...what are those fears? I'd like to posit that vampires are the bogeymen of changing cultural mores.

The last vampire craze which many thought was "over" had a purpose. The purpose was to find the humanity in people who are "not like us-" in other words, finding the human face of the monster.

As the scope of mainstream American vision expanded, it feared the bogeymen of foreigners, people of different religions, homosexuals. The challenge for mainstream America at that moment was to look at the face of the other- the "monster"- and see not foreigners, heretics, or degenerates- but to see people.

During this first wave of modern vampire popularity, all we were asked to do was to look, to see, to generate compassion and appreciate that the "monster" could have human feelings. Reading Interview with a Vampire (a 1976 book that was still popular and churning out sequels in the 90's and beyond) we came to feel for Louis's suffering. Watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer we were captivated by the idea of Angel, a vampire with a soul, a conscience, and we felt compassion for him. This theme repeated with Spike's character- as he, too, became someone the audience could feel for, care about, even love. The theme of the humanized vampire was so strong it supported a successful spin-off series, Angel.

In this first wave of the modern-day, warm-fuzzy vamp, all the audience was asked to do was generate compassion, to find the human face of the monster, and recognize that it existed. Mainstream America had only been asked to admit that homosexuality existed, to admit that there were people from other lands, with other traditions and spiritual beliefs. They had not yet been asked how they were going to integrate these "monsters"- these agents of change- into their everyday lives.

But of course recognizing the humanity of the "other" is only one step in the process. Next we learn to live together.

Nowadays when Joe Middle America needs technical support, he's likely to talk to someone with a strong accent from overseas- and that person may have recently immigrated to the U.S.- or may actually be overseas at the time of the call. Joe Middle America's kids may play games or hang out at social network sites in which they chat with people from the Ukraine, or Argentina- or practically anywhere in the world. It is not so unusual for folks to have a Hindu or Muslim colleague. Gay marriage is slowly legalizing from state to state.

Mainstream America has recently had to make a big jump- from recognizing that the "other" is a person, too- to living elbow to elbow with the "other," to integrating his presence into our sense of community. As with any change, there are feelings of uneasiness, and repressed fear. So fiction lends its helping hand, brings the vampire puppets out of the toy chest, and puts on some more shadow plays to help people cope, adjust, digest the new.

The amazingly popular Twilight series, from what I have read so far, asks the question: if a human girl and a vampire boy are going to have a relationship- how will it work? How will they be together? How can they be a couple? Now as I read more books in this series, I'll be looking to see how Meyer answers this question. BtVS asked this question too, but the answer was a resounding- they can have feelings for each other, but a life together is impractical. As the realities of what folks need to cope with changes, so does fiction's take on the vampire.

The real clincher for me, as I think through the relationship between mainstream America and vampire fiction, is the plot of True Blood. In the True Blood universe some scientist has eliminated the needs of the predator, so that vampires and humans can live and work together. Vampires are being integrated into regular society. I'm quoting from the website, here:

"Vampires have progressed from legendary monsters to fellow citizens overnight...[however, many humans] remain apprehensive about these creatures 'coming out of the coffin'."

"Coming out of the coffin" reads "coming out of the closet" to me. But I think the current crop of vampire tales hits a fear spot that is trying to cope with more than just homosexuality, but a whole bunch of changes about who is a friend, who is a neighbor, what is community in a globalizing world?

Change is unavoidable. Change is wonderful. Change is exhilarating...and also a little bit scary. American pop culture has worked through fear of change in some pretty unexpected ways- drowning the fictional world in vampire stories is only one of them. Still, no matter how sick and tired of vampires many spec fiction writers may be, I'm willing to let folks wallow in the vampire mythos as long as they need to work through their fears, digest the change, and come out stronger and more tolerant on the other side.

Angel goes out with the old

Although the final episode of the TV series, Angel, aired in May 2004, I just got to the final episode last night.

As I've said before, I'm a huge Joss Whedon fan, so why did it take me four and a half years to catch up with his series? For one thing, I was out of the country for the last several seasons of the show, so I had to wait for the DVDs to come out season by season, then import them. But the DVD of the final season had been collecting dust on my shelf for quite some time, and I'd been watching it in fits and starts, never finishing it.

Although I enjoyed Angel, I never had the same affection for it I felt for Buffy. With Buffy, every episode that aired was like unwrapping a chocolate I'd never before tasted- only it lasted for one whole hour. But Angel had its great moments, one of my favorites being "Smile Time" right off Disc 4 of the final season. Those DVDs weren't gathering dust because I was reluctant to watch Angel. I couldn't face giving up the last few episodes of virgin, never-before-seen Buffyverse TV.

But last night, on New Year's Eve, it was time to watch the final episode.

The penultimate episode had left me squirming. The writers had just set up a juicy plotline which, in my opinion, could have easily carried them through a sixth season. I loved the intrigue, the deepening conflicts surrounding the idea that good is not innocence, and doing good requires us to make tough decisions, and get our hands dirty. I think those ideas are apt for facing our challenges today. And I especially loved the name and the symbol of the secret society spinning the wheels of intrigue, the Black Thorn.

When I put the final disc into the DVD player last night, I had no idea how the show could wrap up such a huge plot thread in one single episode. I remembered thinking that Whedon had not been ready to let the show go, and I was worried about his ability to take aborted dreams and bring them to a satisfactory conclusion. Yet "Not Fade Away" was a beautiful final episode, not just for the Angel series, but for the Buffyverse as seen on TV.

And, to soften the blow, my husband was waiting for me with Volume 1 of Angel: After the Fall. In this graphic novel, as in Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, the Buffyverse continues in comic book form.

Twilight- Does it Suck?

A few weeks ago, when I saw Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga series books topping the Kindle bestseller list (including fiction and nonfiction!) with only the president elect's books as company, I decided I had to try the series. Today as I write, Meyer has four of the top five bestsellers on the Kindle's bestseller list. The author is also topping out Kindle bestsellers in Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Children's Chapter books.

This last category is what I really want to focus on today. Young adult genre fiction has made a big splash in the adult market. As I read Book 1 of the Twilight series, I was watching to see how this young adult vampire romance would appeal to a more mature audience. Based on the sales ranks, it's hard to believe grown-ups aren't participating in the series' success.

I've rubbed die-hard fans the wrong way in the past when I don't emphasize where I'm coming from in a review about a much-loved author or series, so here are a couple of caveats:

1. The only book I have ever read by the author is Twilight Book 1. All my comments are related to this book, alone.
2. I haven't seen the movie.
3. If you're a young adult reader, please have tons of fun with this series, and don't bother reading further. This review deals with the book's appeal to adults.
4. There are some spoilers below.
   

When I downloaded the first chapter of Book 1, I was impressed. The beginning of the novel does a great job setting up the protagonist's situation and introducing character and setting, all the while keeping the reader intrigued with a sense of mystery as the protagonist is inducted into the world of the occult. I am embarrassed to say that despite being fluent in Italian, I skipped right over the obvious hint of the protagonists name (Bella, Italian for beautiful) and bought into the fact that she was a clumsy, pale, not particularly attractive teenage girl. The voice was so genuine, so down-to-earth, that I believed the unreliable narrator. That alone earns Meyer my genuine kudos.

But, of course, Bella is actually drop-dead gorgeous- and lives out the teenage girl's fantasy of discovering she is not ugly, but instead the boys at her new school are practically brawling for her affections. As an adult reader I was a little disappointed at this point. I was all set for a book in which the not-so-pretty heroine is swept off her feet by the handsome vamp because he's that attracted to her unique smell, and could care less about her physical charms. Meyer didn't choose to go this route, but she did keep beautiful Bella so clumsy as to make me feel like a ballerina. So I kept reading.

There followed some actual interesting mythology- the slow revelation of Meyer's take on vampire lore, and setting up a rivalry between the local vampires and the tribal clan of werewolves native to the region. Meyer had given enough seeds for a promising spec fiction world, and her writing style was holding up with a good balance of decently-crafted prose and narrative warmth.

Then the mystery between Bella and her vamp boyfriend dissolved, and with it, a lot of my interest. There is a portion in the middle of the book in which the only tension is a sort of virginal romantic anticipation of a relationship between Bella and her boyfriend. This section involves a lot of swooning, dizziness, and collapsing into vamp boyfriend's arms- and as readers, we had already been subjected to a lot of swooning and being carried to safety in previous chapters. All that fainting was getting a little repetitive. The only thing keeping this portion of the novel afloat for the adult reader is the ominous suggestion that Bella's "number is up," that she seems to be in constant danger of death, a danger from which only her vamp boyfriend can defend her. Of course, it is just as likely vamp boyfriend will lose control, and be the cause of Bella's death, himself. That conflict was just enough to carry me through the multiple swoons.

The final third of the book involves a prolonged action scene, in which we get to meet a bunch of other vampires, and Bella proves herself to be more than just a pretty face, but an excellent strategist, as well. Bella's character development by the end of the book shows promise for new adventure in the rest of the series, but if the book were simply a stand alone, her character arc would not have been completely satisfying.

Book 1 ends with a high school prom, Bella dancing with her vampire date. The scene mirrors one of my favorite scenes in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer television series. Comparing the two teenage vamp romances, there is no doubt that Twilight Book 1 offers less appeal for adults than Buffy. In the Buffyverse we get a lot of action and adventure, with corny moments of romance that are sweet in the context of the world and well-developed characters. Without the contrasting high stakes in both action-adventure and character conflict, Twilight's corny romantic moments come off, well, a little corny.

There is a definite kernel of promise in Twilight Book 1, characters and situations that could produce fun stories. I was impressed enough that I'd try Book 2. Whether or not I go on to Book 3 will all depend on Bella, where Meyer is willing to take her protagonist in this romantic, young adult series.

The Partly Cloudy Patriot

When it comes to books by Sarah Vowell I agree with Mae West: too much of a good thing can be wonderful. Add to that the fact I can listen to Vowell chatter through her own narrative (with occasional help from voice actors like Seth Green and Stephen Colbert) while making coffee and peeling potatoes, and her audio books make a pretty addictive combination.

The Partly Cloudy Patriot covers Vowell's thoughts from the Bush-Gore campaign through the aftermath of September 11th. She renders this very un-funny period of American history in a series of humorous essays that explore her family, friends, and personal history.

In an essay called "The Nerd Voice" Vowell theorizes that Al Gore would have had a better shot at getting elected if he'd hired Buffy the Vampire Slayer creator, Joss Whedon, to write his campaign speeches. Vowell defines herself as a "post modern nerd-" that is, a nerd who has learned to be endearing to non-nerds through the art of self-deprecation. She cites Whedon's character, Willow, as the ideal post modern nerd, and asks if a dose of self-deprecation to squash the media's know-it-all perception of Gore might have given him enough of a landslide to take the presidency.

In another essay Vowell talks about going to Bush's inauguration. She cried. She also insisted on singing the national anthem as loudly as she could- even when the protesters all around her refused to sing. That is, in essence, The Partly Cloudy Patriot. It is Sarah Vowell expressing her genuine care for her country by both loving and criticizing it.

Horowitz/Smith "Doppleganger" Definitely Portent of Bad Things to Come

Thank goodness the short film Doppleganger (written and directed by Michael Horowitz and co-directed by Gareth Smith) was only 14 minutes long. This supposed thriller was far from spooky or dreamlike. The entire film was just a big voice-over, except for rare snatches of dialog that would have sounded corny in a middle school play.

The idea of the dopplegänger, or sinister double (often a portent of bad luck in German folklore), has been done so many times in TV and film and been the title of so many movies, that I had trouble pegging down the stinker I wanted to review on IMDB. Does this mean playing with a character's other self is doomed to ridiculous cliché? Hardly. Since I've been mentioning the Buffyverse frequently in recent posts, I'll cite the BtVS episode, Doppelgängland, as an example of the fun that can be had with doppelgängers.

Wikipedia takes a look at a stock character related to the dopplegänger, the evil twin, and quite aptly explains that the evil twin retains the same fundamental characteristics of the original character, but the character's morality does a 180. So, in the episode "Doppelgängland," the sweet and gentle Willow becomes a bloodthirsty killer (she's still intelligent, stubborn, and quirky). This is a key element to why Horowitz and Smith's Doppelganger doesn't work: the doppelgänger convention requires that the audience is familiar with the original character. This means the convention is best employed in a serial television or comic series, and at the least requires a feature-length to establish the original character and his/her doppelgänger flipside. How can the doppelgänger's twisted personality resonate if we're unfamiliar with the original's quirks and characteristics? Horowitz/Smith attempt to shortcut this familiarity by telling us the original is a successful advertising exec with tons of money, a cool pad, and hot girlfriend. This is a stereotype, not a character, and the ad exec's doppelgänger is as predictably boring as he is.

I try to say something good about everything I review, so I'll say that actress Rebecca Gayheart, who turned out to be the actual protagonist in the painfully inept twist ending, was striking and would play well in a film that was actually thrilling or spooky.

BtVS- Where it all began

The Buffyverse will always be one of my favorite fictional worlds. Today I read the script that started it all.

If you've ever read a movie script, you know there's an awful lot of white space on that paper! Screenwriting gurus Robin Russin and William Downs advise screenwriters to be be "as tight and short as possible: Don't use three words if two will suffice" (from Screenplay: Writing the Picture).

Take a look at what Joss Whedon made of that advice:

BUFFY'S MOM
Well, that's everything. Kiss noise.

She actually makes a kiss noise at her daughter.

BUFFY
'Bye.

Buffy's mom heads out the door.


Joss Whedon stops the all-important forward motion of the film to inject his sense of irony. We could probably pare "She actually makes a kiss noise at her daughter" down to "kiss noise," but I'm sure Russin and Downs would agree that if we did, we'd lose something important to making the film.

Whedon breaks some other cardinal screenwriting rules- most notably being ultra-specific about prop and costume details screenwriters should usually leave for the prop and costume department to figure out. Buffy and drooling boyfriend are having popcorn on the couch. Whedon stops to tell us Buffy is "spraying diet butter substitute on it." Wow, is that specific. I also loved Whedon's description of the outfits mall princesses Buffy and friends are wearing at the beginning of the film: "they are all dressed very similarly: bright colors, a lot of white and pink. Not trashy, but mainstream and uninspired. Esprit."

Fans of the TV series will find lots of familiar Whedonisms in the script- from witty quip to Buffy fighting the "king" of the vampires in a prom dress a little worse for the demon-fighting wear.