Seven Seasons of Buffy: Science Fiction and Fantasy Authors Discuss Their Favorite Television Show (Smart Pop series) (18 page)

Here are some of my favorites:

T
HE
P
ERFECT
B
UFFY
F
ESTIVAL

There’s at least one perfect episode of
Buffy
every season. Watching them together gives me a happy. The following are my current choice of most perfect from seasons one to six:

The perfect episodes of seasons four through six are, of course, a no-brainer: “Hush” (4-22), “The Body” (5-16), and “Once More, With Feeling” (6-7).
¹
Not just perfect
Buffy
but perfect television.

W
ILLOW
& T
ARA
F
ESTIVAL

Okay, this is a pretty obvious festival, but I adore these two, and their relationship illustrates one of the many things I love about
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
: it endlessly builds on itself. Casual dialogue from early seasons start to become more resonant in the light of later events. “Willow’s not looking to date you,” Xander says to Buffy, “or if she is she’s playing it pretty close to her chest” (“Prophecy Girl,” 1-12). Then, two seasons later, in “Dopplegangland,” (3-16), vamp Willow comes on to Willow with the traditional face-licking method. “I think I’m kinda gay,” says Willow, somewhat perturbed by the whole experience.

Seeds are planted and then they grow. It’s glorious to watch. Especially when they grow into Tara and Willow having the best metaphoric sex ever shown on television. When these two women do spells together, then
whoosh
. From the hand-holding vending-machine propelling of “Hush” (4-10) to the unbelievably sexy spell of “Who Are You?” (4-16): Tara’s thumb to Willow’s forehead, lips and sternum, they begin to chant, they start to breathe heavily, their hands touch, their breathing becomes even heavier, they glisten with sweat, their eyes half-close, a magical circle rises around them, they stare into each others’ eyes, Willow falls back gasping. Oh my. But there’s more to come: the superlative “You Make Me Complete” scene from “Once More, With Feeling” (6-7). Sigh.

A
LL
-C
HARMING
-P
RETTY
-B
OYS
W
HO
-A
REN
’
T
-V
AMPIRES
-A
RE
-B
AD
F
ESTIVAL

I always knew that, but thanks to
Buffy
for proving it over and over again. Watch Tom in “Reptile Boy” (2-5), Ford in “Lie to Me” (2-7), and Parker Abrams in “Living Conditions” (4-2), “Harsh Light of Day” (4-3), and “Beer Bad” (4-5). They’re all variations of the same guy and they’re all bastards. But cute bastards.

D
REAMING
B
UFFY
F
ESTIVAL

I love the way the show uses dreams. Instead of the gorgeous though not especially informative
Twin Peaks
’ dream sequences (nicely referenced with the red curtains in “Restless,” 4-22)
Buffy
’s dreams are not merely beautifully done but provide acres of plot and character exposition. In fact, the very first time we see Buffy, she’s in bed dreaming about the season’s villain the Master (“Welcome to the Hellmouth,” 1-1). Turns out, Buffy dreams a lot and those dream sequences just get
better and better. The moment when Giles suddenly turns to strangle Buffy while Willow and Xander sit by obliviously (“When She Was Bad,” 2-1) startles the viewer and instantly conveys just how much Buffy has
not
recovered from her ordeal with the Master. The predictive dream sequences of “Surprise” (2-13) and “Graduation Day, Part 2” (3-22), with its references to Dawn’s arrival in Sunnydale two seasons later, are the beautiful seeds that grows into the all-dream episode of “Restless” (4-22). How much do I love “Restless”? My love is bigger than the ocean. I cap off this festival with the mostly delusional “Normal Again” (6-17). Delusions, dreams. Same thing.

T
RAGIC
B
UFFY
F
ESTIVAL

I love the sheer heart-wrenching pleasure of tragedy, and
Buffy
is the most tragic show on television. Hours of joyous pain and many damp tissues. A single line of dialogue can set me off, from Buffy’s plaintive “Giles, I’m sixteen years old. I don’t want to die” (“Prophecy Girl,” 1-12) to Jonathan’s speech when he presents Buffy’s Class Protector Award—“Most of the people here have been saved by you” (“The Prom,” 3-20). “The Prom” makes me tear up no matter how many times I see it. So does “Innocence” (2-14); “I Only Have Eyes For You” (2-19), with its haunting use of an already creepily haunting song; and “Seeing Red” (6-19) with Tara’s death. Of course, “The Body” (5-16) and “The Gift” (5-22) (“Don’t do it Buffy, let the brat jump!”) make me howl.

Buffy’s life (like those of Hamlet and Odysseus) is one continuing train wreck that affects everyone around her. At the end of season six, there’s not a cast member who is not in some way a tragic figure. I love it.

But, as I’ve mentioned several times, there are times when I hate
Buffy
. Here are two festivals that show why:

“A
CTUALLY
, T
HEY
’
RE
A
LL
S
TUPID
” F
ESTIVAL

Unfortunately, there are a handful of episodes where the Scoobies seem to have collectively or individually lost all claim to even the intelligence of a gnat. Most don’t involve some spell that explains the idiocy away. Buffy spends most of “Triangle” (5-11) crying in an unconvincing, vaudevillian, over-the-top way. What the hell was that all about? I bought that kind of acting in “Something Blue” (4-9) ’cause, well, there was a
spell
.

Worse still are the episodes when the entire cast, director, and writing team are rendered moronic. “The Inca Mummy Girl” (2-4) has an
even lamer plot than “Some Assembly Required” (2-14), with no cool Scooby dialogue or arc plotting to save it. It’s ineptly written, directed and, sad to say, acted. The story could have been lifted from a
Goosebumps
book. Kids go to museum, scary mummy comes to life. The plot holes are large enough to drive an eighteen-wheeler through. The South American exchange student is staying for two weeks with the hugest trunk you ever saw—conveniently big enough to stash a body in. Everyone keeps doing things purely for plot reasons. There’s dead time. When Xander picks up the Incan mummy girl from Buffy’s place there’s an endless, pointless filler conversation between them and Joyce and Buffy. It’s like watching
As the World Turns
. The dialogue between the Scoobies is awful: “Do we have to speak Spanish?” asks Xander. “Cause I don’t know much besides ‘Doritos’ and ‘Chihuahua’.”

“A V
ERY
S
PECIAL
B
UFFY
”

This is the worst of all possible festivals, suitable for viewing only by the very brave. I hate it with a fiery, burning passion when an episode of
Buffy
turns into “a very special
Buffy
,” something Whedon has explicitly promised would never happen. In these episodes, some kind of heart- (or rather stomach-) wrenching problem comes up and is dealt with and we learn a lesson. You know what, kids? Domestic violence is wrong (“Beauty and the Beasts,” 3-4). Sick kids are sweet (“Killed By Death,” 2-18). Death is sad (“Help,” 7-4). These episodes are vile. I have to pinch myself. Am I watching some horrible cross between
Charmed
and
7th Heaven
?

“Help” (7-4) does appallingly badly everything that “The Body” (5-7) did brilliantly. We’re supposed to care about some kid we’ve never seen before who talks in breathless meant-to-be-wise-beyond-her-years psychobabble. Die already. The penultimate scene consists of the Scoobies sitting around discussing their tragic loss as heart-tugging music swells around them. (Whedon specifically didn’t use music in “The Body,” because it’s too easy; he didn’t want to let the audience off the hook.) Buffy says she wished she’d saved the kid: “She was special.” Yeah, the kid’s horrendous teenage-angst poetry sure was special. In the last scene Buffy is back in her counselor’s office. Gee, kids, looks like even our superhero Buffy can’t save everyone. Though, hang on—isn’t that the lesson learned from Joyce’s death? The last two scenes of “Help” are just like the wrap of some sitcom or
Touched by an Angel
. It was all I could do not to throw up.

But even worse is the “very special
Buffy
” arc of season six: Willow’s
magic addiction. Or, gee, could it be a metaphor for drug addiction? Just in case you haven’t caught on, there’s a poster-boy drug dealer with hippy clothes and long hair called Rack, who talks slow, and lots of scenes of Willow being all spaced and, ooh, kind of stoned-looking. The sight of Willow in “Wrecked” (6-10) (which gets my vote for worst
Buffy
episode ever), in the junkie waiting room causes me physical pain. Drugs are bad, man. Just say no. I wished I’d been stoned watching it, which would have at least eased my pain. Man, the
Buffy
metaphors used to be a tad more clever and emotionally resonant. As in, you sleep with your boyfriend and overnight he turns into a monster.

I hate Willow’s becoming Dark Magic Queen all the more because the writers blew it. The setup for Willow’s descent goes all the way back to her first tentative steps with magic in season one. They did not need to belabor the drug addiction metaphor with Rack and Amy and Willow’s AA (or is that MA?) total abstinence. (Especially as Giles’s approach at the beginning of season seven seems far more sensible.) I have rewritten that arc in my head a hundred times. First I put together a mini-festival of Willow’s use of magic which includes Giles’s angry remonstration with Willow after she brings Buffy back (“Flooded,” 6-4), and Willow’s chilling speech to Dawn in (“Two to Go,” 6-21). In the versions in my head, Willow’s complete descent into blind grief, rage, and madness, does not turn her into an after-school-special villain mouthing ludicrous lines like “There’s no one in the world who has the power to stop me now!”

WAY MORE LOVE THAN HATE

Ultimately, the brilliance of
Buffy
makes the occasional falls from grace that much harder to stand. Knowing that every episode of
Buffy
could be a work of genius on the level of “Who Are You?” (4-16), or “Restless” (4-22), or “Once More, With Feeling” (6-7), makes the occasional sub-
Charmed
-level hour a stab to the heart. Why can’t
Buffy
be produced like
The Sopranos
, with time and money to burn?

Buffy
is both good and bad; wonderful and excremental. Even the very worst episodes have moments of gold (well, okay,
almost
all do). And, even a few good episodes have a cringe-worthy moment or two. A great deal of criticism and other writing about
Buffy
has gotten caught up in dichotomous thinking: it’s good or it’s bad, it’s feminist or it’s misogynist; it’s racist or it isn’t.
Buffy
is all of these.

Buffy
is certainly obsession-inspiring. That’s why I fervently hope that season seven is the last season of
Buffy
. Frankly, I can’t take any
more. I pray that the show will end. I want to watch television without a stomach full of knots. Seven seasons is plenty. More than enough to keep me happy with endless reprogramming of my
Buffy
festivals. If it all stops at the end of this season, then I can rule out the possibility that there will ever be an entire bad season that is nothing but episodes like “Killed by Death” (2-18), and “Wrecked” (6-10), and “Help” (7-4). I want a finished, no-longer-unfolding text. I don’t want there ever to be a set of
Buffy
DVDs that I can’t do anything with.

CODA: WAY MORE HATE THAN LOVE

The balanced, temperate words above were written only a short way into season seven, before I realized how horrifically
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
had gone off the rails. It’s many months now since I have made any attempt to defend the show. Instead I have taken to bitterly muttering about how much better it would have been if they’d finished in the sixth season, making “Normal Again” (6-17) the final episode. I’m now one of those people I used to defend the show against. There is no one more bitter than an ex-true believer. Color me narky and picky.