Buffy 7.1 Ė Lessons
Light and full of snapping wit.
Itís all about power you see. The power of a really good writer to strut
his stuff. Joss did an incredible job of making one the best Buffy premieres
that Iíve ever seen.
I know darkness lies ahead
for all the characters, but for once Buffy didnít struggle with her role
in the world. She strode across the premiere confident in her role as Slayer
There was some incredible
setup for plot and character development. Call me cruel, but as much as
I love Spike, he makes a great crazy fellow. Now he is truly a fool for
love. Or rather a holy fool for love, saying what others dare not. Are
too sane to say. Only Joss and time can say if this season will leave him
mad, bad or a poet.
And the big bad, presuming
that is the seasonís big bad and not some strange feint, was wonderful.
A morphing shift of each seasonís big bad until we came to Buffy, uttering
the words with which she started the episode, ďItís all about power.Ē
Well, on one hand, it had holes
you could drive a truck through. In fact I think they did drive a truck
through them. Whatever. Thatís not why I watch the show.
I watch it for the metaphor.
For the wracking struggles between Lex and his father. Watching Lex and
Clark become what they will become.
I want to juxtapose the moment
when Clarkís mother tells him that one day she and his father wonít be
there for him with Lexís hesitation before saving his father.
And all of a sudden it occurs
to me that every time Lana (one more time) mentions her parentís deaths,
inherent within that reference is the death of an entire world. Madonna
like Lana. Filled with eternal sorrow. No wonder she grieves. While Clark
bears the weight of this world, she carries the weight of the last.
What can I say itís that
kind of show. How did Lex get into the woods in time to do anything? Why
did Jonathan Kent keep spilling the cosmic beans? Why, why, why? No, reject
plot. Follow metaphor extended into infinity. Faster and more elegant
than a speeding bullet. I donít know if itís intentional. I think the writers
may just be creating Kryptonite Creek, but where the story meets the folklore
and the viewerís brains, there are such vast fields to play upon.
Yeha Ė a new series from Joss
Whedon. I doubt itíll last. Itís cool. I like it. Therefore itís doomed.
Firefly combines the grit
of the western with the expanse of space. No aliens, but ourselves. Weíve
never really needed anything more. That final frontier. Not from the deck
of a starship, but from the gritty confines of a transport ship eeking
I love Simon, the Doctorís,
concern that he may not have made the right decision to flee with his poor
tormented sister River. I love Zoeís grit. And seriously, Mal is a hottie.
A disaffected, isoloationist, the South lost the war, but Iíll never give
Ahem, Firefly plays with
the myth of the West. That place where young men are urged to go. The frontier.
Iím sure like all of Jossí work, itíll be a real mind bender.
There was a moment at the
end of the episode when Mal did something that Iíve been yelling at the
T.V. for years. The villain threatens you. Kill him. And Mal does so with
a soft darn. It was a moment that stole my literary heart.
Itís too soon yet for me
to say much about the literary this or that. I hope that Iíll get a chance.
UmmmÖwe watched it. Mainly so
I could read the Television Without Pity review. It had mermaids wearing
pasties. It had I love him, no I hate him, no I love him. Whatever. I quite
enjoy mocking it. We all must have our petty pleasures.
It was cool. It was pretty.
There were several more impossible wigs and I wonder, why Sydney the only
person who actualy goes undercover? Everyone else looks like themselves.
However, there she is, transformed in a multiplicity of ways. All the better
to kick posterior.
And the rest
We did watch others things.
John Doe. Haunted. Both quite atmospheric. We'll see if they go as began.