Wow. Well my mum died of cancer too and I can honestly say that Joss Whedon captured my feelings perfectly, using ever character to full effect. But as they say in the episode, it's different for everybody.
This what he said about Spiral
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
"Spiral," by Steven S. DeKnight
review by David Hines
rating: **
I think it may be time to start thinking about writing off BUFFY THE
VAMPIRE SLAYER.
At least it is for me. Barring an incredibly brilliant or incredibly
terrible episode that screams for commentary, this is the next-to-last
review I will write about the series. I haven't written a review of the
show for some time because I've been busy. I don't plan to write another
until my post-finale assessment of the season because I don't feel the
show is worth my time. This is unfortunate. To say that BUFFY has had
more promise than most television shows in memory is an understatement,
and since this is a show that has an insanely talented creator/writer at
its helm, with a powerhouse cast, a number of good and capable writers on
staff, hordes of fans in the entertainment press, and a die-hard base of
viewers whose support will go with the show to its new home on UPN, BTVS
had a real and significant chance to realize that potential. And it
hasn't done that.
The greatest and most long-standing failure of the series has been its
inability to recognize and examine implications. As a result, while it
makes some effort to deal with wrenching emotions and deep issues, BTVS is
an unfortunately superficial show. There are episodes and storylines that
embody this problem (I think this season's Joyce cancer arc is one, and
will dissect it in my season review); but oddly, this sort of problem is
most clearly demonstrated in individual scenes. We get one of those in
this episode, and it points up some problems that have plagued the season,
and the show.
Here is the summary, for those whose attention may have wandered: Glory
is a hellgod who has been banished from her own dimension. She wants to
get home, and the Key can take her there. Because Dawn *is* the Key,
Glory's use of the Key is bound to be unpleasant for Dawn. It also
promises to be unpleasant for every sentient being in the multiverse whose
name is not Glorificus: the Key opens doors to *all* the universes at
once. Dimensions wobble and leak into one another, all boundaries between
realms mystical and secular are lost, dogs and cats live together, mass
hysteria ensues.
(Given the above, that the monks who incarnated Dawn ever tried to harness
the Key's energies was, all things considered, highly stupid; that
Somebody created the Key in the first place is even more so. As tools
go, it's sort of like the lever in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN that brings the
laboratory crashing down when the monster pulls it. Yes, BRIDE's a great
movie, and the emotion of the moment is terrific, and it's a classic
ending... but at the same time, you can't help but think *damn* that's a
dangerous thing to have in a laboratory.)
Glory has found out that Dawn is the Key, so Buffy and company are
electing to bravely run away, a valid strategic action. The Knights Who
Say Ni are running after Buffy and company, because they have an alternate
strategy for preventing the Key from falling into Glory's hands. It is
true that all Glory wants is to go home, and that the only reason she's
looking for the Key in this dimension is that she was banished here by
other hellgods... but since she cannot be allowed to use the Key, the Key
must be destroyed before Glory finds it. Which means that Dawn has to
die, because the Knights don't know what Glory's mortal form is, so can't
kill her. Of course, Buffy must prevent this because It's Not Right; but
the fact that she's on the run, unable to protect Dawn -- and then gets
herself and her friends outnumbered and trapped in an abandoned gas
station -- has her questioning her abilities, and barely holding on.
Let's step back and consider this situation, leaving story construction
issues aside for the moment. Is it me, or is the entire situation with
Glory beginning to look a whole lot like an Idiot Plot? ("Idiot
Plot," coined by sf writer and critic James Blish, meaning a story that
can only function as it does if all the characters involved are
idiots.) Consider:
* The hellgods are idiots. After a hellish battle to defeat Glory, which
they apparently barely won, they do not kill her but put some horrible
means of torturing her in motion, leaving open the possibility of a
comeback. Evil Overlord Rule #4: "Shooting is *not* too good for my
enemies."
* The monks were idiots. They not only brought the Key into Glory's
reach, they damn near handed it to her, *and* screwed things up so
badly in their weak effort to hide the key that they put the entire
multiverse at dire risk. Then the one survivor ran to the Key, to tell
the Slayer where he hid it, and in so doing led Glory right to her.
Gregor, the Knights' General, actually makes their dumbness explicit in
a throwaway line. The last version of this, Snyder's explanation of the
Sunnydale PD, was nothing short of beautiful; here, though, the
stupidity is of such a monumentally higher class that I can't help but
think of Dark Helmet's line in SPACEBALLS after he suckers the hero out
of his weapon: "So you see, Lone Star, evil will always triumph --
because good is *dumb.*"
* The Knights are idiots. They know that Glory was grafted into the body
of "a male infant;" presumably they know roughly *when* this
occurred; they know when Glory (and, by extension, said male
infant) arrived in Sunnydale. Yet despite their keeping a close enough
watch on everything in town to figure out that Dawn is the Key and mount
an assault almost immediately after Glory literally blunders into that
secret, it apparently never occurs *once* to them that they might keep
an eye on Glory, follow her movements discreetly, and wait for her to
change back into her mortal and killable form. (Even if they're only
shadowing Buffy, they should have known where Glory's hideout was prior
to this episode.)
* The Knights are idiots, again. Let's take a moment to imagine what'll
happen if they *do* off the Key. There's still a nigh-unkillable
hellgod stuck on Earth. Except now she's stuck here permanently and
she's *really pissed off.* Way to save the world, boys.
(My radical suggestion: don't stop Glory. Help her. Forget the Key for
a minute: there are multiple ways of moving from one dimension to
another in the Buffyverse; vide the current episodes of ANGEL. There's
no point in wasting time fighting Glory when you can just dump her back
to her old dimension, and let the hellgods deal with her. She's *their*
problem, after all.)
* Glory is an idiot. She's planning to get back home via a device that
will make the multiverse's myriad dimensions slam into each other with
the force of oversexed sumo wrestlers, resulting in, we're told,
unimaginable destruction and eternal darkness. Admittedly, Her
Delectable Bosominess is a few fruitcakes short of a Christmas, but even
she should be able to realize that this does not exactly leave much for
her to be a god *of.*
But still, the biggest problem with this episode (and in many ways, this
series and season) for me is the lack of attention being paid to
implications. BTVS has never been good about taking the logical next
step, about asking the questions that screams to be asked... and so while
this season the character of Buffy Summers has been cut, it is only with
the shallowest of slashes. The result may be colorful, but it does not go
to the bone.
For me, the big scene in this episode, the big question, comes in the
scene in which Buffy and the Knights's General, one Gregor, are wrangling
over Dawn. Buffy says that Dawn is a person now, not a Key, so It's Not
Right to kill her. From the script:
GREGOR
Yes. The Key has been transformed.
Given breath. Life.
(sadly, to Buffy)
Yet this makes no difference. The
Key is the link. The link must be
severed. Such is the will of God.
BUFFY
She doesn't remember anything about
being this Key everyone's looking for!
All she remembers is growing up with
a mother and a sister that love her.
What kind of god would demand her
life for something she has no control
over?
Silence. Gregor ventures no response.
*Gregor ventures no response?!?!?!!* Forgetting for a moment the easy,
cop-out refutation (the *Moron Monks* were the ones who meddled in cosmic
affairs and conjured the Key into human form; if a sentient being has to
lose her life to save the multiverse, that's *their* fault -- God not only
had nothing to do with it, He was probably out for a round of skee-ball at
the time!), there's a screamingly obvious answer to Buffy's question that
not only answers her question, but pulls the rug out from under her and
raises the stakes for the character.
What kind of God would require Dawn to make that kind of a sacrifice?
Well, gee, I don't know; maybe *the same kind of God who'd pick an
unsuspecting teenage girl to fight against undead hordes every night of
her life until she dies a violent death?!?*
I think this is one reason the story isn't working for me. We're supposed
to see Buffy as being unquestionably right, standing up against the world,
and admire the hell out of her for that. (That a sorely wounded and
delirious Giles talks Buffy up only drives that point home; when
characters start giving heartfelt testimonials to each other, the hand of
the writer almost always is more heavily felt than is good for the
work.) Then we feel for her at her collapse, get worried for her, get
wrapped up... get, in short, involved. The problem for me is that I'm
not, and I think Gregor's lack of response to Buffy pointed up part of the
reason why.
As it stands, the emotional pain -- and at episode's end, collapse --
incurred by Buffy in her efforts to protect Dawn arises because protecting
Dawn is unquestionably The Right Thing To Do, but it's something Buffy
can't succeed at because the stakes are too high, the opponents too
powerful. Protecting Dawn calls to two of Buffy's instincts: her role as
big sister/caretaker, and her role as Slayer/protector of the innocent,
which she has embraced anew (again) this season. If she fails at
protecting Dawn, she fails to meet the dictates of those two callings.
There are two problems with this. First, it's simple and obvious
stuff. That is an easy criticism, but it's true; this is "pile it on,
watch her break, watch her rise" -- or, as the late producer Don Simpson
called it, "living down in the pits." As character arcs go, it's about as
compelling as Maverick's, in TOP GUN. The hero overcomes
self-doubt; well, yay, but it doesn't make for a fundamental change in the
character, or give us a fundamental new insight into him/her. (Yes,
Maverick learns the virtues of team playing, but he buzzes the tower at
the end -- he's the same ol' Mav!)
The second problem, which I acknowledge is really more of an explication
of the first, is that this sort of crisis does not call the rules of the
game into question. Buffy's internal problems are subordinate to her
external obstacles. This, as I have noted several times with respect to
ANGEL's first season, is a problem, and is innately an inferior kind of
drama.
My suggestion, to be perfectly blunt about it -- to make the crisis one
internal to Buffy, and thus more revealing of the character -- is that
Buffy's failure, rather than being an equal failure of both her roles,
Sister and Slayer, should arise from the fundamental problem that *these
two roles are incompatible.* Because in this instance, I think they
are. Like it or not, stopping the end of the multiverse is in the Slayer
job description; and if Glory can't be stopped, then Buffy may have to so
love the universe that she give the life of her only begotten sister. Is
that something Buffy Summers would do? Never in a million years. Is that
something The Slayer would do? Absolutely. Instead, now Our Heroine is
Perfect And Right, and it's the world that's wrong. I don't think that's
particularly compelling in terms of characterization, or in terms of
story. Of course Our Heroine is going to get up and come through -- she's
Perfect And Right, after all.
Given my problems with the story, this is a bit of a petty thing to close
on, but: the fight scene between our heroes in the RV and knights on
horseback, which should be thrilling, largely falls flat, with one or two
momentary exceptions. The fight choreography has been unfortunately
inconsistent this year, ranging from the fantastic to the terrible. Its
biggest and most recurring problem, which returned in spades in this
episode, is a certain stodginess. What made Jeff Pruitt's fight scenes so
good in seasons past was their constant flow; in this episode, as in many
others this season, the fighting is painfully blocky. Instead of
blockpunchkickspindodgeduck, it's block. punch. kick. spin. dodge.
duck. It's just not as exciting, and that's unfortunate, because this
fight should have been much cooler than it was.
That's it for me. See you at the season wrap-up. (I'll still be
reviewing ANGEL, though.)
--
David Hines
