Love Is All You Need

Aww, look at little Willow, all grown up. And, ok, so she’s destroying the world and putting the rest of the season’s baddies to shame, but still, it’s impressive, right? Anyway, it’s amazing to see where her character has gone since the beginning, as Xander and the dorks discuss while fleeing her wrath. Willow went from a dorky high school student who was too shy to talk to boys to an eminently powerful, confidently homosexual, and amoral super witch. Among other things.

The end of this season has a very “5 year reunion” feel to it, not just for Willow but for all the characters. Although they’ve been together, they’ve all had separate adventures, and I get a real sense of them showing how far they’ve come in their lives. Willow has obviously gained power that would knock the socks (and probably the feet too, depending on her mood) off her former classmates. The super dorks were stretching for a sense of this empowerment too, when they banded together to become Buffy’s arch nemesis..is…eis. Any nerd or social outcast has probably dreamt of returning to high school with an impressive job (like ruler of Sunnydale) and trophy wife (preferably not a robot). Their attempts to say “how do you like me now?” to the rest of a world that has marginalized them fail miserably though. In each of these cases, with great power comes a greater opportunity to abuse it and make everyone’s live a living nightmare.

No matter how cheesy it may have come across, I thought the ending of season 6 was appropriate, or at least, much-needed brake from the doom and gloom. Come on, can’t love conquer all on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, just this once? It was nice to see that, yes it can, with Xander stepping up and saving the day. It’s his ability to love with an almost juvenile disregard for the circumstances that reminds Willow of her humanity. It’s love and friendship and acceptance, not slayer strength, Giles’s knowledge or an abstract sense of duty that keeps the world spinning.

That's Ridiculous

It’s hard to pick, but I think Normal Again is one of my very favorite episodes of Buffy. I think it’s a testament to the writers and directors that they can twist everything we believe about the world they’ve created and still have it stand up.

After six seasons (and a semi-relevant movie), it feels like we know Buffy pretty well, until we find out in this episode that she’s been sent to an insane asylum. It happened before we caught up with her in Sunnydale, but it’s still shocking that there’s this important aspect to the character that we didn’t know. It’s a little risky for the directors to add this in there so suddenly, because it gives us a reason to doubt Buffy. Assuming that Sunnydale is the “real” reality, it’s uncomfortable to know that Buffy’s been taken away before, even if it’s not her fault. We instantly have to reevaluate how much we’ve come to trust this character, knowing that her judgment has been flawed in the past, and that she’s just as vulnerable to her mental demons as she is to the flesh and blood, or ooze, monsters she fights.

Of course, this has never seemed to be a big concern for Whedon or any of the show’s writers. They have obvious faith in the audience’s sustained loyalty to Buffy. Otherwise, they probably would not have allowed the hero of the series to be seen sleeping with the enemy, attacking her family and friends, and curled into a weepy, crazy ball in the corner. We’re still sure that Buffy will be all right in the end, and are cheering her on, just waiting for her to save the day in true Slayer style.

But, even as I’m cheering, I have to wonder, why? As Buffy herself says, “That’s ridiculous.” It would be so much easier to believe that the events of the past years are nothing but a delusion, taking place in a real world psych ward. The details of each reality are shot with equal skill, and there’s nothing to hint that one is “more realistic” than the other. (Well, except for those demons, the witches, and the magical ball of energy in human form in one; and, of course, the doctor’s goofy earring in the other.)

The show implies that it’s up to the audience, and Buffy too, to pick which truth we’ll believe in. It’s no contest really, we’ll pick the one with the Scoobies, vampires, and magic, every time.

I'd Prefer The Demons

I usually prefer my metaphors more fully embodied. But, in this season, we aren’t removed from any of the real-life monsters that Buffy and crew have to face. In past episodes, when Buffy was younger, all the problems she faced in her ‘normal’ life were overshadowed by the demons and vampires she had to face. Not anymore.

Willow is really addicted to magic, and we see her under its control as much as any other junkie. When she goes to get her fix in Wrecked, we get a sense of how desperate she is. There’s no underground hell hole like there might have been in the early shows. Although Rack’s place is magically cloaked, it still looks like a normal house, bringing the scene a sense of realism that forces us to share Willow’s experience right along with her. Whedon has removed the barrier that a lot of his more fantastic elements have provided. In fact, the demon at the end of Wrecked acts almost as a footnote to the episode, and is slain as quickly as he appears.

Sex is also starting to be a bigger part of the series, and it’s not just hinted at through oblique symbolism anymore. In Buffy’s earlier relationships with Riley and Angel, we were never shown much more than kissing without artistic lighting and ethereal, romantic music. With Spike, we’re almost painfully close to the action. Buffy knows what she’s doing is wrong, but rather than hide this with an undefeatable ghost of forbidden desire, Buffy gives in to the actual thing.

Hate, addiction, rape, and isolation are finally being shown in all their real life power, and for the characters and the audience, that’s scarier than any metaphoric Hellmouth.

A Match Made in Heav...the Hellmouth.

I have a confession. The first time I watched Buffy and Spike kiss at the end of Once More With Feeling, I giggled. It was shamefully girly, but I was in middle school. Watching the show now, with a college-inspired critical eye, the fact that Buffy has decided to accept Spike as a part of her life is not all that surprising. At this point in the series, I think Spike is the closest thing to an equal Buffy has; or, if not equal, they have at least become more similar.

In Becoming we see Spike acting more tame than he’s ever been. In the opening graveyard battle, he fills Buffy’s role, leading the fight, and even joking with the other Scoobies. Later, he protects Dawn like a vampiric mother hen, rather than ransacking Sunnydale with the hoard of biker demons. Spike admits it “looks like fun,” but in an impressive (comparatively) show of self-denial, he chooses duty over the destruction of innocent mailboxes. The only explanation for this sudden case of moral responsibility is that Spike really has been changed by Buffy. By focusing on ‘what would Buffy do’ it seems like Spike has absorbed some of her characteristics, including her absolute devotion to duty.

Buffy, on the other hand, is closer to being undead for the beginning of Season 6. It’s hard to think that clawing her way out of her own grave wouldn’t give her a different perspective on the demons she fights. Spike, as a vampire, is the only one around her who she’s able to confide in with any hope of understanding. Once back in the real world, Buffy wanders around like a zombie, “Going Through The Motions” of daily life, but never fully committed. It takes Spike to change her perspective, and point out that Buffy can only fully appreciate her life by living it. (Once again, it’s a testament to Joss Whedon’s insanity that a musical about a tap-dancing demon where people sing about mustard and bunnies can still be a relevant part of the series.)

I think it’s mutual desire that pulls Buffy and Spike together. Each wants what they can’t have. Buffy, having been pulled from paradise, changes between wanting to be fully in this life and wanting to escape it. Spike on the other hand, can’t decide if he wants the Slayer to let him Rest In Peace, or if it’s worth all the time spent babysitting for the chance of being with her. The choices they make can only increase the tension as the season progresses.

She's Not A Cheeto

Earlier in the season, Buffy had complained to Giles that she knows she has an expiration date, but she would prefer it be a long time away…like a Cheeto. Too bad.

Still, nearly all of Season 5 has focused on how much Buffy has lost recently as her life slowly falls apart. By the time Buffy gets to the final battle with Big Bad Glory, it makes me wonder just what is she giving up when she sacrifices herself?

Poor overwhelmed Buffy says in the understatement of the series that “It just keeps coming.” In the past few years, Buffy has lost Angel, Riley left, her mother died, and now she’s forced to chose between killing her sister or letting the world be destroyed by an insane hell god. Among other things.

I think things are so difficult because they attack Buffy on a personal level, on top of requiring all her Slayer strength. We’ve seen in the past few apocalypses, Buffy defines herself by the people around her, and her sense of duty is dependent on who she’s protecting. She’s lost that by having to choose between what she believes she should do, and what is being asked of her. As she says “I don’t know how to live in this world if these are the choices.” Buffy can’t accept (to the point of being catatonic) the situation that turns her world upside down. Throughout the series, the Slayer and her friends are good and defeat anyone who opposes them as evil. When this order is changed, and Buffy needs to sacrifice a part of herself, she shuts down. She still follows through with the plan to save Dawn, but the fact that this isn’t the clearest way forward, or the one supported by the other Scoobies, seems to destroy some part of Buffy before she ever climbs the scaffold.

Poor Joyce

These episodes are heartbreaking. Joyce’s death, coming so suddenly and in the midst of the battle with Glory for the Key, hits Buffy and the Scoobies harder than any other death so far in the series. Joyce, although sometimes oblivious or narrow-minded, loved her daughters and their friends, and was an integral part of the gang. She was present in all five of the previous seasons, making her the longest lasting female character over the age of 21, and earning her status, however questionable, as the Crone. When she passes, the others are left with a hole that none of them are able to fill.

In The Body in particular, Whedon does a good job of capturing the intense and erratic emotions surrounding a sudden death. From Willow’s frantic search for an appropriate outfit, to Anya’s heartfelt plea for someone to please explain death to her, each is unsure how to deal with their loss. Xander’s punching the wall and Dawn’s unrestrained anger and hurt are contrasted with Spike’s anonymous gift of flowers and Tara’s calming advice to show various ways of reacting to incomprehensible emotions.

Buffy, however, reacts by shutting down. She seems to embrace more of her cold Slayer side, focusing on the job at hand, rather than acknowledge the depth of her loss. This emotional disconnect is reflected by Buffy’s portrayal as a robot in Intervention, and by her conversations with the primitive First Slayer.

But Buffy admits that her shut down had begun earlier, with her failed relationship with Angel. There is an interesting scene, in which Buffy spends the night in the graveyard by Joyce’s fresh grave, talking to Angel. We see her surrounded by the things which have proven most difficult for her: the loss of a loved one, a lover she can never have again, and the graveyard where she’s forced to do battle nightly whether she wants to or not.

Even with the ‘help’ of the vision quest, Buffy has only acknowledged her disconnect, but hasn’t fully dealt with it yet. It seems admittance really is only the first step, and Buffy’ll have to work through her current disconnection before she can understand her gift.