Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Rite of Passage Subverted (Part One)

Where It Began: Buffy Backstory

My next posting (after this one) will be a rumination on episode 46 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This episode, entitled "Helpless," comes from season three of Joss Whedon's magnum opus. The posting, "Rite of Passage Subverted: Buffy's Bout With 'Helpless'-ness," will discuss rites of passage, structuralism, and post-feminism in regards to a television show that altered the face of serialized television.

But, before we get to that, I thought I might offer some background. It occurs to me now, more than a year into "blogging," I have yet to write about a show that has occupied much of my time—watching, thinking, talking—in the last decade. I've been a big proponent of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer, both as fluff and high art, and while it has since become the subject of academic conferences here and abroad, I think there is still much to say about it.

First Things First

When I was first in college, some fifteen years ago, we had two movie theaters within walking distance of the campus. Both were "twins," a type of theater (a movie house with only two screens) that was already becoming extinct in the early nineties. In fact, the one where my roommate and I saw Buffy the Vampire Slayer, aptly named The Flick, went out of business about a year later. The last time my wife and I road tripped up to my alma mater, I was saddened but not entirely shocked to see that the other one, The Appalachian Twin, had closed its doors, too.

Both of these theaters showed second-run movies for the exorbitant price of 99 cents. I used to love calling The Appalachian Twin and listening to the recorded show times. At the end of every recording, the owner would say "All seats, all shows, 99 cent."

Anyway, for broke college students, these theaters were both a blessing and a curse. We were guaranteed cheap entertainment, but because the theaters were only twins, and because the movies were second-run and cheap, we didn't really have much quality to choose from. That was okay, of course, but it meant that I got to see some really good bad cinema. I remember bundling up, trekking out in blizzard like conditions (down and up through the valley that separated my dorm from the theater) to see Candyman. My floormates and I were the only ones in the theater. Our winter gear was strewn across the rows of seats like we were in front of a fire not a silver screen. I think the last movie I saw at The Flick was Hard Target. I also recall seeing both Mortal Kombat and Street Fighter at The Appalachian Twin.

To this day, I still shake my head and think, Poor Raul Julia.

All of this is to say that my roommate and I went into Buffy the Vampire Slayer with little or no expectations. We were not disappointed.

It's safe to say that we were not alone in our reactions to the film. Hell, the mastermind behind the script doesn't think any better of it. The Internet Movie Database mentions that "Joss Whedon was so frustrated by how much of his vision was being mishandled and how much of it was being rewritten that he eventually left the set during production and never came back."[1]

It's no wonder that I didn't actively seek out the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer until it was well into its second season. I'd heard the buzz, but I had trouble getting past that bad first impression.

All it took to change my mind, though, was one episode of the t.v. show.

I've since become a loyal subject of Whedon. In my office, I have a framed copy of the March 7, 2003 Entertainment Weekly cover that announced "Buffy Quits." On one of my bookcases, I have four alternate cover issues of Buffy Season Eight comics propped up against a shelf-full of Norton Anthologies. That same bookcase holds my copy—a Christmas present from my wife—of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Philosophy.

When my wife and I started dating, I tried—with little success—to be less overtly obsessed with the show (for fear I might scare her away). Surprisingly, though, I think she recognized in my passion a general proclivity to be passionate, and so she stuck with me.

Like Tom Waits, though, I knew I would have to spend some time selling her on the prospect of the show. (For more on the Tom Waits connection, take a gander at A Dream Realized: Tom Waits Live in Asheville.) Unlike Tom Waits, though, I figured Buffy would be a harder sell—especially since she had already formed a precursory opinion of the show. Like many, she had tried to watch the show in its first season and was less than impressed by its "monster of the week" format.

But, because she loves and trusts me, she was patient. It also helped that I didn't have cable at the time!

At first, I regaled her with my Buffy knowledge—endless quotes and observations. She then agreed to start at the beginning and watch all the episodes—with the caveat that we would stop if she couldn’t get into it. She almost didn't. If I remember correctly, she was ready to give up shortly before the end of the first season. It was with the last two episodes of season one that the show started to click for her—and by the end of the first episode of season two, she was hooked.

That first year of our relationship we watched all seven seasons of the show with a passion that almost matched our passion for each other. I don't think she will ever be a freak about the show like I am, but she certainly respects and loves it. The great thing about a great show is that you can come to love all its parts—even the ones that don't quite work. Buffy is certainly not a perfect show, but it still stands as one of the bravest, boldest shows ever aired on network television.

But why do I love it? You know, beyond just being good fun?

It's hard to say exactly. I could shop out the usual bits: Joss Whedon is a wonderfully witty writer with a knack for dialogue and blending the mundane with the deeply philosophical. But in the end, I can't help but think that a big part of why I love the show is that it was the right thing for the right time. I started watching the show before graduate school, but as I progressed through one of the darkest times in my life (dark and beautiful; graduate school was like an abusive boyfriend—wonderfully seductive and fun before the shit hit the fan), the show showed me things about life and myself that really resonated—and still do resonate.

Working on my master's thesis, I was deeply embroiled in feminism and representations of female sexuality. There was a nice juxtaposition between what I was writing about—Bettie Page and postwar sexuality—and what I was regularly watching. Bettie Page was a product of the feminine mystique; Buffy is a product of post-feminism. It might not be too much of a stretch to say that without Buffy my writing about Bettie may never have coalesced.

Later on, it was the DVD's. I spent some time living and working in Naples, Italy, but before I left the states, I had painstakingly videotaped every episode of the first five seasons off of FX. While I was in Naples, my mother would send new episodes to me. I was also in Italy when the first season was released on DVD. I ordered it from Amazon and began watching all over again.

Which brings me to my point: I was clearly already a big fan of the show, but Buffy was really the first television show that I was able to maintain a good relationship with well after it was off the air.[2] It was the first television show that I could mull over—through DVD's and DVD commentaries—without being left to the mercy of network schedules. Not only did watching the shows (again) on DVD help me pursue critical inquiry, but I was able to watch all the episodes unmolested. I remember watching "Something Blue" from season four on FX and thinking, "Wait a minute, there's something missing here." FX had cut pieces out of the episode to make it fit its timeslot and to jam in more commercials. With the DVD's I could watch the shows as they were intended—without those pesky, damn commercials!

I'll add one more thing about my love for the show: When I got back to the states, I started teaching part-time at the community college where I am presently employed. Because all colleges treat adjunct instructors with a certain amount of disdain (relying heavily on them but paying them as little as possible), I found myself sharing an office with a few other part time instructors. We had to share a computer that operated by a hand crank.

Anyway, it was in that office that I first met Gerald (from over at Virtual Bourgeois). Gerald and I spent more time talking about television, books and movies than we did actually working in that office.

I mention this because while I'd spent a fair amount of time discussing movies and books up until that point (graduate school was really one long conversation), I hadn't really spent all that much time discussing television. I don't know if that's true or not. Maybe it's more that the conversations I had with Gerald far surpassed any that I'd had prior to that time. We like the same stuff (mostly). And while I wouldn't say that we are like-minded—fearing that pat statement be mistaken for something akin to liking the same football team—we definitely understand each other's perspectives and agree on much.

My wife excepted, Gerald is my biggest sounding board (metaphorically and physically) for damn near everything.

I thank Buffy for that.

There Again…


The truth of the matter is that the love I have for Buffy is a misunderstood love. I can't tell you how many times I've found myself trying to jokingly explain away the magazine cover on my office wall. People don't get it. They ask me surface questions and mark me down as a geek, dork, or worse, perv.

That's the connecting line from the last bit to this bit: Until I met Gerald, I didn't have anyone to talk seriously with about the show. Until Gerald came along, I had to combat the jibes of the uninitiated.

It went something like this…

"You like Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Why?"

I give an intelligent, long-winded response.

"I know why you watch the show," the person responds, having not listened to a word I've said. "It's because you think Sarah Michelle Gellar is hot, right?"

Me, crestfallen.

You see, I was never in love with Buffy. I was never in love with the actress who played Buffy. I was not like Xander, harboring a love that was equal parts lust and God worship. And while I had a man-boy crush on Alyson Hannigan, I didn't watch the show just to ogle her. At least not after the first few episodes…

In fact, that's a conversation (probably one of the first) I've had with Gerald. Sarah Michelle Gellar has nothing to do with why we love Buffy. I will credit her with a great performance, but nothing else.

It's the show.

It's the whole production—from the creator, to the scripts, producers, actors, directors.

It's the love of a multi-faceted text that can be read from an entry-level of simple enjoyment right up to contemplation about life and death, of personal choices made in a cruel world, about the hero's journey, about not just good and evil but the nature of both, the joke of both, and the deeper truths that are so hard to find, keep, and protect.

"Uh huh. And the chicks are hot."

I'll end this portion with a funny story: A few months ago, tornadoes wound their way into the Guilford County area. We had weather the likes of which we hadn't seen in a good long while, if ever. All the local t.v. stations switched to coverage of the storm system. The wife and I sat on the couch watching for hours, truly anxious.

At one point, the storm(s) came really close to us. My mother, a ten minute drive across town, got hit pretty hard—golf ball hail covered the ground and power lines went down.

My wife jumped into action, getting things ready should we have to seek cover. She cleared out space in the closet under our first floor stairs—just enough room for the two of us and our two kitties. Then she started putting a few cherished items in the first floor bathroom.

What went into that bathroom? Irreplaceable things.

My wife went for her wedding dress.

I grabbed my copy of Buffy The Vampire Slayer – The Chosen Collection.




[1] Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Internet Movie Database. 28 May 2008. .
[2] The idea here is that while VHS had already allowed us to enjoy repeat viewing, television on DVD revolutionized the way we re-watched shows. To be able to watch a whole season without commercials (and sometimes with commentaries) freed freaks like me to digest and analyze in away that was just not possible (practical) prior to TV on DVD.