Post by Dalton on Feb 27, 2004 23:52:53 GMT -5
We were different people when this story began, shadows of who we now are...
I wrote those words last week, I meant them for us, but they apply just as much to Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles. They barely resemble the characters we first met, for they have grown.
My god, have they grown.
Giles, our father. In the beginning, The early incarnation of Rupert Giles was that of a foppish and stuffy bore, who was clearly in over his head. He was overeager and under prepared, and definitely not the type to handle a wildly independent teenage girl. Giles openly admitted that fighting was a job for the slayer and that his expertise would be in books and training. He would be the insider, working to mold the ultimate outsider into a warrior.
By the end, Giles lived as much outside the establishment as Buffy. Fired and disgraced as a Watcher, his paternal love for Buffy would be his signature feature. Willing to lay down his life for her above all else, and revealed as quite the accomplished warrior himself, Rupert Giles ultimately represented a complicated and flawed father-figure.
By all accounts, Buffy taught Giles as much Watcher instructed Slayer, but his lessons from her were in loyalty and bravery. His Slayer constantly surprised him, with her heart, with her skill, with her need to heal the wounds in those around her, and, by doing so, she elevated him above his stated calling.
As the Council saw it, the Watchers were keepers of a tradition and a mission, but, over the years, they lost touch with the human element. Their Slayers were weapons which could not be allowed to think and grow as normal girls do. It would be a danger to the cause.
But in Buffy, Giles recognized something above her calling as chosen one, which, instinctively, he knew would make all the difference. Buffy was never like what he was told to expect, and once he embraced her unique gifts, the pairing became capable of all they ultimate achieved.
Giles also allowed himself to be a man, again. He reasserted his humanity into his mission, and it changed him a great deal. His anger at Angel for the killing of Jenny Calendar, his standing up to the Council and subsequent firing, his brutal handling of Ben in The Gift, his difficult decision to teach Buffy the final lesson of independence by leaving her for England, his attempted assassination of Spike, his entire handling of Willow in the last few seasons....all of this existed outside the pages of his Watcher’s handbook.
These were his choices. This was Giles taking responsibility for his own life. Buffy’s sacrifces, her determination, her stubbornness, her quest for normalcy, illuminated for Giles the blurred lines of his mission. And now, at the end, he is handed the opportunity to take these lessons and apply them to a new generation.
Still, nothing defines Giles more than his pure love for Buffy. She truly is the child he might have known. All he ever wanted for her was happiness. Can you picture Giles in your head, ten years from now, walking Buffy down the aisle in at her wedding? Can you see the absolute joy in his tearful eyes?
But, that’s it. isn’t it. That’s who he was to us. He was the father we always wanted. This is no disrespect to our own, but his total acceptance and support of Buffy - the ultimate misunderstood freak growing up in a cruel and confusing world - was too real and heartfelt to ignore.
More than anything else, I’ll miss that love, that paternal guidance and absolute sense of sacrifice, even if it meant abandoning or openly countermanding his child, that made Giles the best dad millions of television viewers could ever hope to have.
Willow, our best friend and sister. As far as Giles has come, it pales in comparison to dear sweet Willow Rosenberg. In the beginning, Willow was the nerd sidekick, all brains, not backbone. In the beginning, she was the shy outsider who put herself in harm’s way just to impress the new girl who paid her some attention. But for Buffy, but for the hellmouth, human Willow would have gone on to MIT or Harvard or some such ridiculous institute of higher learning. She would have written fantastic and elaborate computer programs that would have cured the world’s ills in painful pinks with childish designs.
More than anyone else, Willow was transformed by Buffy and the world in which the slayer lived. Exposure to countless evils and perils finally seeped into our gal, and, purely through the need to contribute and defend herself when the fit hit the shan, she took up magic.
I often wondered about Willow’s abilities in the Wiccan world. It is clear that we are to believe that Willow’s gift with magic places her in the upper echelon of witches in the world. There are few, if any, that can rival her abilities by the end of Season 6. But, I never understood if this was due to her innate capabilities or to her boundless exposure to the darkest magics and most obscure texts. Someone needs to ask Joss.
What is interesting is how we never noticed her progression until after it happened. Willow seemed to dabble until she restored Angel’s soul at the end of Season Two, when something seemed to pass through her. Fueled by the residual magic left behind from that experience, her abilities leapt forward, but it all seemed natural given how necessary her magical contributions seemed to be. Giles and Buffy forced Willow to evolved quickly because they always needed her to, never attempting to keep her in check until it was too late.
One of my deepest regrets was that Willow’s heel turn came so late and lasted so short. I would have enjoyed a solid half year of Willow as Big Bad. This would have severely tested Buffy’s commitment to her chosen path, particularly coming on the heels of her painful resurrection. A full on embrace of Willow’s darker half - so well alluded to in Dopplegangland (brilliant early foreshadowing of Willow’s two transformations) - would have been riveting television, but would also have brought the evil Angelus story line of Season two full circle.
Haven’t we all, after all, experienced that particular pain of losing a childhood friend to a new crowd?
Willow’s other "change," the emergence of her lesbian life style, was equally interesting. It has been noted that, while it lasted, the Tara-Willow relationship was one of the most open and touching gay pairings on television. Joss shied away from nothing. Not to get into the politics of it now - I made that mistake in September - but Tara’s death and Willow’s subsequent rage overshadows a solid gay relationship that went very far in depicting the healthy love (and sex) a pair of women may enjoy in this world.
I wonder, though, what would have happened if Scott Evil wasn’t such a huge hit? Would Seth Green have stayed? If he did, would Willow ever have turned? Would it have been Oz getting shot through that window?
Unfortunately, we’ll never know.
More unfortunate, however, was the whimper with which Willow went out. Season Seven was not Willow’s best. Her reluctance to embrace magic again was a nice story idea, but it was never explored properly. Her desire to move on - as a lesbian - and find a new relationship, was definitely hindered by the choice of partner (die Kennedy, die!). And, by the end, her big magical redemption was almost an afterthought. Her fear of doing the spell never came across, and no one ever really believed that Kennedy would have to put her down.
A two hour season finale might have helped with that.
Lost too, and this is most significant, was the best friend bond between Buffy and Willow. The fact is, by the final curtain, they weren’t best friends anymore. They had moved on in life, seeking out parallel but separate courses in life. Buffy’s inner demons - dying, Spike - were topics that were too foreign to Willow. Willow’s struggles - sexual identity, trying to destroy the world - were equally confusing to Buffy. They were best friends, by the end, simply because they had to be, not because they chose to be.
There is nothing wrong with this, however. How many of us have lost touch with our closest friends from high school? Mine moved to Los Angeles, works in "The Industry," and has many many connections that would be useful to someone like me, particularly at a time when I really need the help. I’d bet my life savings he hasn’t read a single one of these articles.We used to play basketball in the rain everyday after school. We used to cut school on Fridays to see big movie releases together, not because we hated school, but because we loved blockbusters so much.
Now he dates Asian women exclusively, has a cell phone imbedded in his ear, and actually liked Spider-man.
So, for Buffy and Willow to grow apart is natural. It just seems strange to me that the story line was rarely overtly mentioned. Other than The Yoko Factor, it was never more than a background theme. But this is Joss’s genius, isn’t it? This is just one more thing for us to revisit and digest on DVD for the next few years. When I have the full seven seasons, I might even do a paper on it.
My final word on Willow is just this: I loved her, and I will miss her, silly shirts, doubting pouting lip, and all.
(cont. next post)
I wrote those words last week, I meant them for us, but they apply just as much to Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles. They barely resemble the characters we first met, for they have grown.
My god, have they grown.
Giles, our father. In the beginning, The early incarnation of Rupert Giles was that of a foppish and stuffy bore, who was clearly in over his head. He was overeager and under prepared, and definitely not the type to handle a wildly independent teenage girl. Giles openly admitted that fighting was a job for the slayer and that his expertise would be in books and training. He would be the insider, working to mold the ultimate outsider into a warrior.
By the end, Giles lived as much outside the establishment as Buffy. Fired and disgraced as a Watcher, his paternal love for Buffy would be his signature feature. Willing to lay down his life for her above all else, and revealed as quite the accomplished warrior himself, Rupert Giles ultimately represented a complicated and flawed father-figure.
By all accounts, Buffy taught Giles as much Watcher instructed Slayer, but his lessons from her were in loyalty and bravery. His Slayer constantly surprised him, with her heart, with her skill, with her need to heal the wounds in those around her, and, by doing so, she elevated him above his stated calling.
As the Council saw it, the Watchers were keepers of a tradition and a mission, but, over the years, they lost touch with the human element. Their Slayers were weapons which could not be allowed to think and grow as normal girls do. It would be a danger to the cause.
But in Buffy, Giles recognized something above her calling as chosen one, which, instinctively, he knew would make all the difference. Buffy was never like what he was told to expect, and once he embraced her unique gifts, the pairing became capable of all they ultimate achieved.
Giles also allowed himself to be a man, again. He reasserted his humanity into his mission, and it changed him a great deal. His anger at Angel for the killing of Jenny Calendar, his standing up to the Council and subsequent firing, his brutal handling of Ben in The Gift, his difficult decision to teach Buffy the final lesson of independence by leaving her for England, his attempted assassination of Spike, his entire handling of Willow in the last few seasons....all of this existed outside the pages of his Watcher’s handbook.
These were his choices. This was Giles taking responsibility for his own life. Buffy’s sacrifces, her determination, her stubbornness, her quest for normalcy, illuminated for Giles the blurred lines of his mission. And now, at the end, he is handed the opportunity to take these lessons and apply them to a new generation.
Still, nothing defines Giles more than his pure love for Buffy. She truly is the child he might have known. All he ever wanted for her was happiness. Can you picture Giles in your head, ten years from now, walking Buffy down the aisle in at her wedding? Can you see the absolute joy in his tearful eyes?
But, that’s it. isn’t it. That’s who he was to us. He was the father we always wanted. This is no disrespect to our own, but his total acceptance and support of Buffy - the ultimate misunderstood freak growing up in a cruel and confusing world - was too real and heartfelt to ignore.
More than anything else, I’ll miss that love, that paternal guidance and absolute sense of sacrifice, even if it meant abandoning or openly countermanding his child, that made Giles the best dad millions of television viewers could ever hope to have.
Willow, our best friend and sister. As far as Giles has come, it pales in comparison to dear sweet Willow Rosenberg. In the beginning, Willow was the nerd sidekick, all brains, not backbone. In the beginning, she was the shy outsider who put herself in harm’s way just to impress the new girl who paid her some attention. But for Buffy, but for the hellmouth, human Willow would have gone on to MIT or Harvard or some such ridiculous institute of higher learning. She would have written fantastic and elaborate computer programs that would have cured the world’s ills in painful pinks with childish designs.
More than anyone else, Willow was transformed by Buffy and the world in which the slayer lived. Exposure to countless evils and perils finally seeped into our gal, and, purely through the need to contribute and defend herself when the fit hit the shan, she took up magic.
I often wondered about Willow’s abilities in the Wiccan world. It is clear that we are to believe that Willow’s gift with magic places her in the upper echelon of witches in the world. There are few, if any, that can rival her abilities by the end of Season 6. But, I never understood if this was due to her innate capabilities or to her boundless exposure to the darkest magics and most obscure texts. Someone needs to ask Joss.
What is interesting is how we never noticed her progression until after it happened. Willow seemed to dabble until she restored Angel’s soul at the end of Season Two, when something seemed to pass through her. Fueled by the residual magic left behind from that experience, her abilities leapt forward, but it all seemed natural given how necessary her magical contributions seemed to be. Giles and Buffy forced Willow to evolved quickly because they always needed her to, never attempting to keep her in check until it was too late.
One of my deepest regrets was that Willow’s heel turn came so late and lasted so short. I would have enjoyed a solid half year of Willow as Big Bad. This would have severely tested Buffy’s commitment to her chosen path, particularly coming on the heels of her painful resurrection. A full on embrace of Willow’s darker half - so well alluded to in Dopplegangland (brilliant early foreshadowing of Willow’s two transformations) - would have been riveting television, but would also have brought the evil Angelus story line of Season two full circle.
Haven’t we all, after all, experienced that particular pain of losing a childhood friend to a new crowd?
Willow’s other "change," the emergence of her lesbian life style, was equally interesting. It has been noted that, while it lasted, the Tara-Willow relationship was one of the most open and touching gay pairings on television. Joss shied away from nothing. Not to get into the politics of it now - I made that mistake in September - but Tara’s death and Willow’s subsequent rage overshadows a solid gay relationship that went very far in depicting the healthy love (and sex) a pair of women may enjoy in this world.
I wonder, though, what would have happened if Scott Evil wasn’t such a huge hit? Would Seth Green have stayed? If he did, would Willow ever have turned? Would it have been Oz getting shot through that window?
Unfortunately, we’ll never know.
More unfortunate, however, was the whimper with which Willow went out. Season Seven was not Willow’s best. Her reluctance to embrace magic again was a nice story idea, but it was never explored properly. Her desire to move on - as a lesbian - and find a new relationship, was definitely hindered by the choice of partner (die Kennedy, die!). And, by the end, her big magical redemption was almost an afterthought. Her fear of doing the spell never came across, and no one ever really believed that Kennedy would have to put her down.
A two hour season finale might have helped with that.
Lost too, and this is most significant, was the best friend bond between Buffy and Willow. The fact is, by the final curtain, they weren’t best friends anymore. They had moved on in life, seeking out parallel but separate courses in life. Buffy’s inner demons - dying, Spike - were topics that were too foreign to Willow. Willow’s struggles - sexual identity, trying to destroy the world - were equally confusing to Buffy. They were best friends, by the end, simply because they had to be, not because they chose to be.
There is nothing wrong with this, however. How many of us have lost touch with our closest friends from high school? Mine moved to Los Angeles, works in "The Industry," and has many many connections that would be useful to someone like me, particularly at a time when I really need the help. I’d bet my life savings he hasn’t read a single one of these articles.We used to play basketball in the rain everyday after school. We used to cut school on Fridays to see big movie releases together, not because we hated school, but because we loved blockbusters so much.
Now he dates Asian women exclusively, has a cell phone imbedded in his ear, and actually liked Spider-man.
So, for Buffy and Willow to grow apart is natural. It just seems strange to me that the story line was rarely overtly mentioned. Other than The Yoko Factor, it was never more than a background theme. But this is Joss’s genius, isn’t it? This is just one more thing for us to revisit and digest on DVD for the next few years. When I have the full seven seasons, I might even do a paper on it.
My final word on Willow is just this: I loved her, and I will miss her, silly shirts, doubting pouting lip, and all.
(cont. next post)