"I'm setting my laser from stun . . . to kill."

(Above quote is from Toy Story,

and may actually have been written by Joss Whedon,

because he helped with the screenplay!

Amazing.)

3.7: Revelations

3.12: Helpless

3.14: Bad Girls

3.15: Consequences

To state the obvious, Faith is a very interesting person. First of all is the question of her name: "Faith." For such a rebellious, irresponsible individual, having a name that would be more in line with a choir girl or Eleanor Rigby-type church lady is surely yet another display of irony. She certainly has her beliefs, but they seem founded only on herself. She displays a tremendous trust in her own abilities—not only in her physical strength as a Slayer, but also in her "femme fatale" power over others due to sexual attraction and prowess (see her words and dangerous behavior toward Xander in "Consequences").

The gap between Faith and Buffy's separate attitudes toward being the Slayer, being chosen, and being imbued with the qualities as such continues to widen episode to episode before becoming a veritable Grand Canyon by "Consequences." Faith skirts responsibility, rejects most kinds of authority, and fulfills her calling's obligations only to satisfy skewed and extravagant appetites. Initially, she deferred to Buffy as the "senior Slayer" and kept her taste for domination on a shorter leash as far as the actual slayage went. However, once she became more familiar with Buffy, her history, and her environment, she up-ended their volatile relationship and reversed the roles. "Bad Girls" is probably the best example of this: Buffy, Willow, and Xander sit down to take a Chemistry test in class, and when Faith comes to the window to lure Buffy away to do some daylight hunting, she goes without a fuss, though her friends worry and object, completely allowing Faith to lead her. Though part of this is a rebellion against her new Watcher, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, she is still in complete control over her own actions and is still proving a follower to Faith.

Later in the episode, Faith breaks into a store and convinces Buffy to help her steal weapons. Buffy slowly accepts and acts upon Faith's real belief system: pure autonomy for the Slayer. Faith has told her that generally, she "thinks too much"—but Buffy's brief abandonment of thought, however fully she has accepted it, is brought to an abrupt close when they are confronted by the reality of two policemen. Faith's next "brain wave" shows even more clearly her belief that Slayer has the freedom to do whatever she wants—aka, wrecking the policemen's car and escaping from their custody.

Faith's personal philosophy is not a new presence on the show; however, it has not yet been seen on the side of "good"—it is more usually seen on the other side. In an earlier post, I said that "vampires have no conscience—and in fact, they have no need for one: since they have no eternal soul, their physical actions will never be judged, and thus the consequences are immaterial." Most of Faith's actions show her to have no more moral compass than a vampire, whether it be Drusilla or the "evil" Angelus. When arguing about the true calling of the Slayer, Buffy insists, "We help people!" and though Faith vaguely agrees, she still snubs all of her exhortations, proclaiming the Slayers' superiority with an almost Hitler-like zeal.

Angel's attempt to help Faith and bring her to acknowledge her emotions and need for closure in the matter of the man she killed opens up a whole separate side of the matter: there is a very real connection there. Angel describes the difference between the true autonomy of a regular vampire differs from having your heart and soul restored. Although these words do seem to resonate with Faith, the new, bungling Watcher puts in an unwanted appearance and destroys Buffy and Angel's plans to reclaim Faith's self-awareness. If that had not taken place, it is probable that Faith would come to an understanding of how frighteningly close she is to actually fraternizing with the enemy—much more so than Buffy ever was, even in her entire relationship with Angel. Faith flounces along the wall separating the two encampments—and she ultimately sells out to join the nefarious mayor, who was until so recently a compatriot of vampire Mr. Trick.

One other thought: when Buffy goes to visit Faith at the end of "Bad Girls" to discuss what happened, she finds Faith washing the blood out of her clothes—an almost Lady Macbeth "Out, out, damned spot" motif that Faith intentionally drowns with her later words and actions. (I wouldn't be surprised if she takes up sleepwalking.)

From bad to worse

2.22: Becoming, Pt. 2

3.1: Anne

3.3: Faith, Hope, and Trick

It certainly seems that no matter where Buffy goes, trouble does seem to follow her. Whenever she tries to escape, she ends up running toward rather than away from the things she fears. This is a very well-established classical motif: a prophesy is made that people bring to pass by the very steps they have taken to avoid it (ye olde "abandon-the-helpless-babe-upon-a-hill-outside-of-the-city" routine, as in Oedipus Rex). Of course, there is not a precise prophesy made about Buffy's future at this exact point in her life, but she does have an undeniable destiny cut out for her as the Slayer. She should already have figured out that she can't fully escape who and what she is, although one can't blame her for making the attempt at the end of Season 2 in "Becoming, Pt. 2" and 3.1: "Anne". So much for William Ernest Henley's "I am the master of my fate" (though she is still, as yet, "the captain of [her] soul").

The way that Buffy and her mother relate to one another is very interesting, especially as regards Buffy's "calling." At the beginning of the episode "Faith, Hope, and Trick," Buffy and her mom have one last meeting with Sunnydale High's Principal Snyder. When it becomes apparent that Buffy will be able to re-enroll at the school, it is—amusingly—Buffy who takes the more level-headed and mature response rather than her mother, whose rejoicing is extremely juvenile. One has to wonder how much of this is Joyce's way of trying to "relate" to a teenaged daughter on some level—even further, a teenaged daughter who was, until very recently, estranged from her in almost every way imaginable. While Buffy's biological parents have long since broken up, there is a very similar relationship between her mother and Giles, her Watcher.
Joyce has not yet taken back her statement that she blamed Buffy's disappearance and estrangement on Giles, thus she must still believe it implicitly.

An issue that was raised in the second season when Kendra appeared was the importance of being with family. Kendra herself was not allowed to be with her family; Buffy was shocked and saddened at the thought of being raised apart from one's family—even moreso than she seemed to be at the idea of being forbidden to have friends. This is rather surprising for someone who has seen all the episodes in which Buffy and her mother fight: of all the Slayer's occupational hazards, the need for secrecy is not the least painful. In "Becoming, Pt. 2," Buffy must finally reveal her calling to her mother, and her mother's reception of the news is not pretty. The event's unforeseeably awful timing leads to a complete and wrenching misunderstanding betweent the two of them.

The recurring theme of the "aloneness" of the Slayer really comes full circle at the end of Season 2 leading into Season 3. When Kendra first appeared in Sunnydale, Buffy was initially appalled by her testimony of the "correct"—monastic, really—way of life for a Slayer. However, as the second season drew to a close it became apparent that Buffy herself was being—unwillingly and dangerously—dragged into a semblance of that lifestyle. First, she lost Angel; then, Whistler pointed out to her that she would always be by herself; this is abruptly followed by Angelus speaking the same words, adding that not only is she alone, but also that she has no friends. Upon Kendra's death at the hands—or rather, fingernails—of Drusilla in "Becoming, Pt. 1," the mantle of her secluded way of life—of being separate from relationships, from distractions, from her family, of being a vampire slayer—is transferred from her shoulders onto Buffy's in a bizarre and violent way. Of course, Buffy feels responsible for Kendra's death for many reasons, though there was not truly enough information for her to have gathered what was actually going on from the facts with which she was represented. She may feel at first in part that she must go away to be alone, to separate herself from her friends and family in order to better fulfill her calling in the fashion of Kendra herself. Of course, we see Buffy, as "Anne," mainly trying to escape the recent tragic past and figure out her life rather than pay homage to a deceased associate. Interestingly, though, by the end of the episode, the name "Anne" itself becomes a sort of identity to "pass along," as she passes it along to Lily.

Remembering Kendra's sudden appearance and recent death, when Faith appears in "Faith, Hope, and Trick," it must be a stunning sort of deja-vu not only for Buffy but for the rest of her group of family and friends. Buffy is still the most directly affected by her showing up not only because of her "sharing the slayage," but also by witnessing the contrast of the reactions between how everyone reacts to Faith and how they reacted to Kendra. All of this must cut fairly deep, but Buffy handles the unexpected arrival of yet another fellow slayer with a grace she certainly did not possess when Kendra entered the scene. Certainly no one could fault the few, understated complaints, which originate from personality and relationships rather than feelings of inferiority or "professional jealousy." This time, Buffy has both experiential and moral superiority over Faith—but still, she does not abuse either. Instead, she makes the attempt to include and help Faith (albeit with a natural reluctance), and thus learns that there is something more important at work behind Faith's debonaire, tough-girl appearance. She even gains a certain level of respect for the newest Slayer. Drawing from these experiences, she also gains a new level of respect for and understanding of herself and her own actions—which leads to her finally revealing all the facts about the night of Angel's descent into Hell to Giles and her best friend Willow. Again, it takes a few episodes of the new season for Buffy to reach a sense of closure from the final events of the last.

Goodbye, my love . . .

2.13: Surprise

2:14: Innocence

2:21: Becoming, Part 1

Drawing from Angel's case, vampires have no conscience—and in fact, they have no need for one: since they have no eternal soul, their physical actions will never be judged, and thus the consequences are immaterial. The vampires all share a very spiritual vocabulary, often full of religious terms whose general meanings and connotations have been reversed. For example, the "bad" Angel addresses the demon as he is about to pull out the sword, saying that he had been "lost" and is now about to be "redeemed." They often chat about events like the crucifixion and, oddly enough, wind up at different times in churches—though they still shy away from crosses, crucifixes, and holy water. Even "Angelus" or "Angel" is a reference no doubt to a "fallen angel"—or the head fallen angel, Satan himself. The fact that the "bad" Angel is one of the worst vampires—the most like a "monster" of them all—is constantly being reiterated by different characters.

I've been into Dracula-lore for many years but I'd never given the battle between actual darkness and light that much thought. First, vampires avoid sunlight: it burns them, destroys them, they are creatures only of the night. (The Apostle John was a master at this kind of subtle symbolism, which features everywhere in his gospel: example, "Judas went out, and it was night," before he sold his Master for 30 pieces of silver. Later Judas betrayed Him with a kiss. It is a painfully familiar idea.)

Nightmares in Buffy's world are also thousands of times more frightening because of their staggering plausibilty. While Buffy is visited by rashes or dreams whenever something momentous is on the way, being almost like a sort of her own "Watcher," on the other side of the mirror is Drusilla and her bizarre and erratic visions of the future. We discover in "Becoming, Pt. 1" that Dru was actually plagued by this disturbing foresight before Angel turned her. For her, it was actually instrumental in Angel's warping of her mind before he recreated her as a vampire: he apparently used and abused the notion through impersonating someone she trusted implicitly: a priest, her confessor.

There is a clear contrast between the relationships shared by Buffy and Angel (before he re-loses his soul, of course) and Drusilla and Spike. Angel and Buffy are honest and straightforward with one another. I half-expect Angel to say, "This is true love. Do you think this sort of thing happens every day?", Westley-style. (Incidentally, it's the first time I noticed their love theme: piano or flute.) They really share information: their thoughts, ideas, and feelings, while the vampire couple never tell one another the whole truth; their conversations are ambiguous, enigmatic and obscure. Alongside the "affection" that the Judge sensed between them, their relationship is extremely physical–it’s not just because they’re both evil vampires. There is physical attraction, and also the attraction each feels of finding a kindred spirit–two of a kind, as it were. It brings to minds the characters in the Eagles song "Life in the Fast Lane": "They had one thing in common:/They were good in bed."

For Buffy and Angel, there is obviously desire there–but rather than being the shaky, lustful foundation of a short-lived affair, it is a natural extension of their depth of feeling for the other. When they kiss, the reason is (not only) for personal satisfaction, but is instead chiefly an expression of their love for each other. They move carefully through the stages of their relationship, weighing the odds for each individual’s needs and best interest, while fully considering all factors, reasons and possibilities. These two deal with sacrifice and "good of the whole rather than of the part," while Spike and Dru's actions are driven by personal gain. Since they ARE evil vampires, their sick and twisted wishes usually mesh. There is yet so much that Drusilla doesn’t reveal to Spike about the way her mind works, since—well, she IS just a little crazy.

I dub thee . . . Rebekah

(The following comments were posted at 11:05 a.m. Monday morning.)

Although I have never actually sat down and read Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe, I have seen every film version in existence (even the one with the comatose Robert Taylor) and I have a pretty clear understanding of the 2 main female characters. From the start, Rowena sounds as though she would be fascinating: a fair-haired Saxon woman who has won the heart of the great Ivanhoe and waits for him as he battles fierce Normans on his perilous journey back to her. At first, the imagination creates the strong picture of J.R.R. Tolkien's shield-maiden Éowyn of Rohan, with her fair cold beauty and a warrior's heart.

Unfortunately, quite HOW Rowena came to be viewed as Ivanhoe's "one true love" is revealed to be an utter mystery. The importance of her alleged beauty falls by the wayside as it becomes clear that she can't really do anything BUT sit and wait for Ivanhoe. While he languishes from terrible wounds, she gazes out of the window and complains about life. At least she can weave or do embroidery (I hope, anyway), though it doesn't really help out her boyfriend.

This is what the idea of the 1775 "princess" brought to mind from the "Halloween" episode: from the drawing in Giles's book, Buffy gets one initial image (which is, for Rowena, the Éowyn-like one) stuck in her mind and becomes convinced that Angel would like her that way. Of course, here it takes a completely different course: the woman is under the misconception that the man would prefer some other ideal, some other image, to the one she has to offer. She feels, down somewhere fairly deep in her constitution, that she is inferior and doesn't, in her present state, even DESERVE the man she has won with her own natural gifts. Cordelia is always dealing damage (often unwittingly), and here we see that the comments of another woman–even those of a vain and vapid one–have a tremendous effect on the strong but still-developing female character. Her self-professed immaturity is, in a way, her own undoing. Of course, she never could have foreseen what would take place that night, but already her "plan" was doomed to failure: Angel, to quote Billy Joel, "wants her just the way she is." It is a big step for Buffy herself, as well as for her relationship with Angel, for them to have the discussion about "interesting girls." Angel comments that he "hated the girls back then" and called them "dull, simpering morons." Rowena, zero. Buffy–AND Rebekah–3!

Here I come to Rowena's contrast character in Ivanhoe: Rebekah. A Jewess with dark, quiet beauty and powerful convictions, Rebekah and her father rescue Ivanhoe from the Normans and she then saves his life by nursing him back to health. Naturally, she falls in love with the noble Saxon warrior in the process, but wisely keeps her own counsel, as he is always yammering on about his "true love," Rowena (and unfortunately not only while he's delerious). Eventually, Rebekah is captured and imprisoned by a Norman Knight Templar who has become infatuated with her, and she spends her days fighting him off. Finally Ivanhoe has to settle the score and rescue HER. They seem destined to be together! [Even children's book writer Edward Eager points this out in Knight's Castle–a glorious and hysterically funny story based on the old movie–and ultimately has Ivanhoe marry the courageous Rebekah rather than the tiresome Rowena. Everyone should watch the old Robert Taylor film and then read this book. It is much more satisfactory.]

But alas, Ivanhoe is NOT Angel, even if Rowena is represented by the noblewoman from 1775 and Rebekah is the real Buffy: he still ends up with "dull, simpering" Rowena in the end. Sir Walter Scott should have jumped a few centuries of style and at least left the conclusion of his novel "open-ended," so that all the readers can just imagine him riding off into the sunset with Rebekah instead.

All the viewers/readers have come to the same conclusion as Angel about the Rowena/18th century noblewoman and Rebekah/Buffy: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is MUCH stronger, MUCH more interesting, MUCH more useful, and frankly much COOLER than any upper-class ingenue from 1775. The following quotes are the best explanation:

Willow (as a ghost): "Buffy! What do we do?!"
Buffy (as 1775 girl): *faints* . . . . . . "It's not our place to fight! Surely the men will protect us!"

Of course, there are still remnants of this idea in people's minds, even in a town like Sunnydale, even for one of Buffy's best friends, Xander. Her "violation of the guy code" when she prevented his taking "manly" action against the guy who almost pummeled him by the drink machine created yet another contrast with the characters of Buffy and Angel. It was even expounded upon later in "What's My Line" when he shrieks to Cordelia that they'll wait for Buffy to come rescue them and Cordelia calls Buffy a "superchick or whatever" and Xander a "coward."

Still, the balance between strong characters (strong in the sense of being able to fight or protect themselves) is a good one: Angel, Buffy, the mysterious "new slayer" Kendra who appears in "What's My Line"–even Giles is revealed as being more than capable of beating someone down (I adore that twist, but WHAT?!! I want to know!). Generally, everyone does his or her best when there's a big free-for-all (like at the end of Part 2), but there are clear differences between, say, Buffy's and Willow's abilities. Kendra is an excellent twist; Giles really should have thought of the possibility of another slayer showing up before, since Buffy really DID die (albeit briefly) at the end of season 1.

To further the semblance between Ivanhoe characters, Buffy and Angel do take turns saving one another's lives. It's actually rather romantic–maybe even better than going to an 18th-century ball.

A Day in the Life . . . of a Vampire Slayer

(Actual time: Thursday, 12:05 a.m.)

Episode 1-5: "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date";

Episode 1-7: "Angel";

Episode 1-12: "Prophecy Girl";

Episode 2-1: "When She Was Bad"

One of the things that jumped out to me is a major theme of that plays in Episode 1-5 ("Never Kill a Boy on the First Date") which seems directly related to the second "mother" phase of female development. At the end of the show, Buffy and Giles have a nice little conversation about self-sacrifice and things one has to give up. Like many heroes, from the Scarlet Pimpernel to Spiderman, the theme of "I can't have a relationship with anyone because my enemies always hunt down and hurt the people I care about" has re-emerged. It definitely seems to have "brought the hero out of self-absorption and self development and into a more social realm of community." Clearly, Buffy is still developing as a person and as a hero (see her behavior in "When She Was Bad"!), but I would argue that, for female characters, the phases should intermingle more often than not. Female sensibilities as a rule mature faster than male sensibilities.

Going back to my reference to other heroes (including Spiderman), Buffy tries to "dodge" her destiny in Episode 1-12 as she attempted to do when we first met her. However, to move forward she must accept her fate: women must always be mindful of the future, and especially of future generations. She even wonders fleetingly about who the next Slayer will be

and what will happen to her: looking out for the survival of the future generations, as the author would say.

When Buffy goes to what she knows will be her own death, the dress she wears is white–a direct association with purity, or the "virgin phase." Even her descent into the ordeal of the Master's return seems symbolic, reflecting a hieros gamos or at least some level of her "education" as a hero and as a woman.

Throughout the development of the show, Buffy "quests after psychic wholeness and purpose." These words certainly sum up Buffy's apparent need for closure in "When She Was Bad," after the interim between her experiences in the finale of season one. She has undergone trials she could never have imagined before–which does seem to happen to most women, especially when one considers childbirth. In so many of these senses, Buffy is a very solid version of a female hero, referencing back to the goddess archetypes of ancient mythological cultures. The evil beings which threaten to destroy her world–her friends, her family, her social life and even passing high school–must be stopped, and as the Slayer and true female hero,

she is the only one who really holds that power.

–AGB

Welcome to Sunnydale

[Just to clarify things: the ACTUAL time is 1:34 am Monday, assuming that the "time posted" on this website is as incorrect as it generally tends to be.]

As I've never really watched a show or a movie thinking about (or attempting to think about) the identity of a character from the point of view of his or her gender, watching these first few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer has already been a little bit of a challenge for me. I tend to think of men and women, boys and girls as all just being people, with their similarities outweighing their differences. I have always imagined the line between the sexes as being dotted rather than impermeable.

Episode 1: "Welcome to the Hellmouth"

While the entire show is obviously centered around a female title role character, it's my belief that the character Giles "saved" the first episode. The obvious tension surrounding his purpose and how important he was to Buffy's real responsibilities was what really caught my attention: his role as "Watcher" was a strong way to introduce her own role as "Slayer." He makes a nice break from the muddled high school crowd, but still does not hold "the main power": he's not really capable of doing what Buffy herself does. It surprises and intrigues me that the Slayer is referenced as having always been a woman. Is the Watcher necessarily a male?

As a side note: there are some who might complain that Buffy herself is "unrealistic." However, I personally know 16-year-olds who look and dress as she does, and I've seen a smaller woman flip a 300-pound man over her shoulder and land him on the ground. Besides, she does take her fair share of beatings in a fight; it's not really that unconvincing.

It is nice to see a female hero behave like a female, while at the same time she doesn't let anyone walk all over her. Movies like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom are irredeemably marred because of some woman who can't shut up and stop screaming, while characters like Lara Croft, Tomb Raider are far too cool in every single life-threatening situation. Buffy stands up to all the conflicts that follow her around in different, more practical ways, with a good balance between being feeble and being level-headed.


Episode 2: "The Harvest"

The ending of this episode was a really good springboard for the rest of the season; it would have been miserable to see the "pilot" and have had to wait a whole week to see what happened! The story is good (although I was disappointed to see Eric Balfour-Jess-go so soon), and I will always be impressed by straightforward battles between good and evil. Xander's quips about his being "less than a man" and feeling useless were amusing, and they also helped to establish his different relationships with Willow and Buffy. I feel that his presence as a male character is a good foil for Willow in the same way Giles is for Buffy.

A few thoughts about Buffy herself: the idea of her being a real girl, solidly female, is very obvious. From her makeup to her clothing to her trying out for the cheerleading team (in episode 3), it is clear that she is as feminine as they come. Still, she manages the best of both worlds and lets everyone know it.


Episode 3: "Witch"
This was my favorite show of the first three for a variety of reasons. First, it had a really good storyline with a great twist. It is also quite complex: there are several different simulaneous layers and ideas intermingling with one another that go together to make it a good show. These are things I've come to expect from anything that has Joss Whedon behind it, even a mere 45 minutes.

Second: the interplay between the characters has already become a lot more stable and more clear. When Xander tells Willow that he appreciates her because she is sort of "one of the guys," I could really connect with that: I can recall dozens of similar experiences from when I was younger, having been something of a tomboy myself (though Willow's more of the socially-inept intellectual than a tomboy). Her reaction to his words was equally realistic: in spite of the fact that girls who are tomboys or brilliant do enjoy getting muddy or hacking systems (or whatever it is they like), they are undeniably girls who prefer to be treated as girls every once in a while. Plus, being told you're "one of the guys" is like admitting you're playing make-believe when you should have already outgrown it. It was also a nice twist when Buffy, in her witch-affected state, told Xander he was just "one of the girls"; Willow clearly appreciated the indirect payback.

I can see why there are people who would not be "hooked" from the onset of the first season. The acting is stilted on occasion, as is almost always the case for the early days of any TV show (Firefly being a rare exception). There is also a clear gap between the fashions and dialogue of the 2000s and the 1990s that might deter some, though not actually quite as much as I was expecting. The approach to the different stereotypes, whether it's the high school clique or the garlic/crucifix vampire lore, is handled with just the right amount of campy wit and bluntness to win over harder-to-please viewers.