"Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will always love you. This is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles that . . . Tell Giles I figured it out, and I'm ok. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me." - Sarah Michelle Gellar making the ultimate sacrifice as Buffy in "The Gift."
Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Complete Fifth Season DVD Review
By Marlo Serritella
The startling thing about the fifth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the severity of the descent. For those of you who know what's coming this Season, I'm not talking about any literal, physical descent (yet). I'm talking about the plummet from happiness to grief, from love to indifference and from hero to martyr. As I recaptured Buffy's words in the quote above (once I brushed the tears away from my foggy eyes), I remembered a vivid picture from early on in the Season: Buffy in an uncontrollable fit of giggles ("Real Me"). Doesn't really matter what she's laughing at. Surrounded by her friends in the coziness of her kitchen, Buffy is laughing so hysterically that she can hardly catch her breath. It's a pretty picture, one in fact that we don't often get on Buffy. This stands in stark contrast to the image of Buffy in a grief-induced, catatonic state that is soon to come ("The Weight of the World"). But that is where life often takes us (joy to sorrow), so that is where Buffy will take us. The theme of this Season is so thick with substance that it's almost tangible-human life is valuable and sacred. Please don't fear, you haven't accidentally sat on the remote and ended up on The 700 Club. There will be no sermons or speeches, no neat and tidy solution to that feeling of despair in the pit of your stomach. Instead, the message emerges organically through the lives of these characters. What's at stake is nothing less than the very reason for Buffy's existence; this world, for all its cruelty, is ultimately worth saving. Let's not forget this is a gal who hasn't exactly had an easy life. But for all the misery, anguish and suffering, wouldn't you trade everything to hold on to it? As long as that's true, Buffy will be there to at least give us a fighting chance.
In the opening episode, Buffy faces none other than Dracula (please read with heavy Romanian accent). The episode is witty and fun with a higher purpose, of course. Buffy learns a valuable lesson about the need to better understand her Slayer power; Xander (Nicholas Brendon) gets to use the phrase "spider-eating man bitch," and Riley (Marc Blucas) gets to mope and scowl and punch people ("Buffy vs. Dracula"). But, it's at the end of the first episode that something interesting happens. Buffy gets a little sister. Not the normal kind of TV kid sis that starts out all small and cute and serves as a vehicle for touching lessons and wacky diaper jokes. Nor is she the long-overdue result of Joyce's (Kristine Sutherland) Season Three tryst with Giles (Anthony Head) while under the spell of cursed band candy. No, this addition to the Summers' family seems to have arrived somewhere in the middle stages of puberty. Yet, no one thinks it at all strange. (If this doesn't convince you that Buffy fans will gladly go wherever Mr. Whedon leads us, nothing will.) Somehow, this seemingly unexplainable addition doesn't break the sacred, unspoken rules of the Buffyverse. What these rules are, I can't quite articulate, however, I do know when they're broken (See Season Seven). But those crafty Buffy writers are able to weave the intricacies of the Buffy mythology so that Dawn's existence makes perfect sense. Dawn (Michelle Trachtenberg) did not start out as a human. Once a centuries-old, high-frequency, mystical blob of energy that serves as a portal to unlock the entryway between dimensions, these days Dawn spends her time eating ice-cream sundaes, eavesdropping on the Scoobies and stupidly inviting vampires into the house. In order to protect and keep it from those who would seek to use its power for evil, a super-special order of monks transformed the "Key" into flesh and blood and sent it to the Slayer for safe-keeping in the form of an annoying teenage sister ("No Place Like Home"). Of course, at first neither Dawn nor anyone else has any clue about this, as the trusty monks also built memories of Dawn's un-lived life into everyone's unsuspecting heads. See, makes sense.
Now, where there's a magical Key, there's a lock that some evil nasty wants to open so as to unleash a world of badness. In this case, that evil nasty is Glorificus, or as she is known to her friends and those whose brains she sucks, Glory (cutie-patootie Clare Kramer). Though I believe in my heart that this show is deeply feminist at its core, it surprised me when I took a moment and realized that Glory is really the first female arch-villain that challenges Buffy. Just in case you don't trust me, I'll do the math-Master + Angel + Mayor + Adam = boys club. So perhaps in an effort to compensate for this, Glory is not your run-of-the-mill demon. She's a god. And she kicks Buffy's ass but good. Unfortunately, Glory has been exiled from her former, well, glory, as part of the ruling triumvirate in some unspeakable hell dimension. But there's a twist! Glory is not only trapped in this world in the form of a sexy blond fashionista, she is also sharing her body with an ordinary, twenty-something, handsome doctor named Ben. He, unlike his not-so-pleasant other persona, doesn't seem so bad. So Ben is Glory, and Glory is Ben and anyone who actually witnesses one morph into the other instantly forgets. As Spike (James Marsters) succinctly explains, "it's like a bloody sitcom" ("The Weight of the World.") And though all Glory really wants is to go home, clicking her heels together just isn't going to get the job done. Once Glory can figure out where the Key is hidden, she plans to use it to open the gates that separate dimensions and return to her reign of terror. Of course, this will have an undesirable side effect; hell will basically be unleashed on earth. So, in other words, it's just another day in Sunnydale.
As we've learned over the course of the show, it's never about the strength of the bad guy's punch. It's about some hideous emotional growth that needs to be understood. (Damn you Joss Whedon!) Glory is a god. Yet, even she can't comprehend this "bile" known as human emotion ("The Weight of the World"). When the magic separating her from her human host begins to weaken, Glory begins to feel Ben's human pain and guilt and fear. It's all she can do to keep from jumping out of her skin: "Feelings . . . hate'em. . . Is this what the poets go on about? I look around at this world you're so eager to be a part of and all I see is six million lunatics looking for the fastest ride out" ('Weight of the World"). Emotion? No thank you. This higher being prefers the much less complicated path of ruthless torture and mayhem. Meanwhile, over in Ben's half of this kooky existence, he's struggling with the dilemma of saving himself or saving Dawn. If he allows Glory to open the portal and therefore kill Dawn, his godly half-sister has promised him immortality. One little problem-Ben knows that Dawn is an innocent, not to mention that the ritual of Dawn's bloodletting may also end up killing loads of other innocents. Remember, Ben is a human being with a soul and a conscience. Well, at least he puts up an internal struggle before he hands Dawn her death sentence: "I got no choice. It's you or me." Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't he just define the choice-it's you or me. Sounds like a choice to me. It's not a great choice, but still a choice. With Glory, what you see is what you get-all evil all the time. Ben, on the other hand, makes the case for morality but ultimately chooses evil. Dawn recognizes that Glory may be the demonic god, but Ben, he's the monster ("The Gift").
Oh, Riley leaves. Insert applause. 'Nuff said.
From this vacancy in Buffy's love life comes my most beloved storyline. In the confines of his snuggly crypt, Spike has a dream that wakes him up in a cold sweat: Spike is in love with Buffy ("Out of My Mind"). I think it's significant that the realization comes to him in a dream so that he literally wakes up to the truth. This is where I have to admit that after all these years of claiming to be such a Buffy devotee, I missed an important causal link. Spike was basically neutered in Season Four with an embedded, neurological chip that makes it impossible for him to harm humans but allows him to beat the snot out of other demons. While this strange turn of events brings him into some quasi-alliance with the Scooby gang, the fact remains that Spike does not aspire to any kind of reformation until he falls in love with Buffy (cue light bulb over my head). Even several episodes into the fifth season, Spike kidnaps a doctor in the hopes of removing the chip and being restored to his former, bad self. Thinking back, I had always remembered Spike's transformation from evil to not-so-evil as sort of developing along with his love for Buffy. What's more accurate is that this quest for morality is born from his love of Buffy. But, let's remember that this is still Spike. So the early stages of Buffy love include sniffing her clothes, hanging out in front of her house way too much, and throwing juvenile insults: "you have stupid hair" ("No Place Like Home"). However, almost immediately after his new awareness, Spike also finds himself in the most awkward position of saving Buffy's life ("Family"), comforting victims of a wicked troll-attack ("Triangle") and consoling Buffy in her worry about her mother's health ("Fool for Love"). I don't know why I didn't see it before; Love is a powerful force in Buffy (as we'll see most vividly in Season Six).
Chip or no chip, however, Spike is still a soulless demon-but a soulless demon trying to be man. Do you remember Angel when he lost his soul? His favorite hobbies included murder, torture and bringing about Armageddon. So, it's not that old soul excuse again. Spike may be without a soul, yet he is prepared to turn his back "on the whole evil thing" for Buffy ("Crush"). And, it's not just Love-with a capital "L"-that is all-powerful. Angel certainly loved Buffy when he had a soul but promptly traded that in for obsessive hatred. The secret ingredient here is Spike. It's Spike's brand of love that has the power to transform him. With the growth of this love comes Spike's conversion. When Drusilla returns to Sunnydale, she refuses to recognize his chip as an obstacle to a nostalgic evening of slaughter with her old flame. And she's ultimately right. It's not the chip that prevents Spike from killing; it's the conscience that has somehow developed around it. Sure, maybe tying Buffy up under threat of death until she admits having feelings for him was not Spike's brightest moment ("Crush"). And offering to kill Drusilla as a testament to his commitment lacks a certain, shall we say, sanity. But please remember that this is Drusilla-the yin to his yang, the Joanie to his Chachi (except not as evil). Clearly, something serious is developing. Sure, commissioning the creation of a Buffy-bot to be his willing sex slave, does not exactly amount to mature love ("Intervention"). But the emotion behind it is real. When the Buffy-bot asks if she should "start this program over," Spike is jarred from his illusion to what he really longs for: "no programs, don't use that word, just be Buffy" ("Intervention"). Most importantly, rather than reveal Dawn's identity as the Key, Spike lets Glory beat him within an inch of his un-life. In fact, Spike is the only other character besides Buffy willing to give his life to save Dawn. Buffy thanks him with a soft kiss and a glimmer of hope, "What you did for me and Dawn, that was real. I won't forget it" ("Intervention"). And neither will we.
But before Buffy can sort out her feelings for Spike (revulsion, loathing, disgust-for now), there's just a few other life or death matters that she has to endure. Now, this is where you, faithful reader, learn how dedicated I am to all of you. See, there's an episode of Buffy that I have watched only once in its original showing. It's the only episode in seven years about which I can say that. I won't watch it in re-runs no matter how much FX tempts me. In fact, if I catch a glimpse of it, I'll quickly change the channel. I will not watch it in the house, I will not watch it with a mouse. I will not watch this damn episode. Except for you. Please don't misunderstand me; the episode is one of the crowning achievements in the entire Buffy saga. Now, I haven't seen everything on television in the last sixty years, but I am willing to go out on a limb and say that Whedon's "The Body" stands as one of the most moving pieces on grief and loss to ever grace the small screen. Beautifully shot, sharply written and brilliantly acted, I can't say enough wonderful things about this horrible episode that I hate. In the episode, Buffy - The Chosen One, protector of the world, superhero and demon-fighter-loses her mom.
She loses her mom. I have to say it again because three years later I'm still trying to figure it out myself. She gets sick. She dies. There's no monster to be fought, no sinister plot to uncover, no mystical force to battle. There's just The Body. And the emptiness. And the silence. And the absence. As an audience member, the episode is relentless in its intensity-long takes, no musical interludes. As a viewer, we just don't ever get a break to absorb what's happening. This of course mirrors the anguish on the screen. Buffy has had to create death with her very own manicured hands since she was fifteen years old. She has strangled the breath out of beings, stabbed them through the heart and severed spinal chords. Yet faced with the cold still body of her mother, Buffy can barely manage to work a telephone. There's no magic to this. In Buffy's world, that's precisely what's so disturbing. I'm not sure that I can recall any other death on the show that was just a result of the "natural" sort of order of things. Buffy can't swoop in, defeat the bad guy and rescue her mom from danger like she has so many times in the past. Her helplessness is palpable. She even sucks us in to her fantasy sequence in which she envisions the paramedics reviving her mother with it all ending happily. Aren't these the Superfriends who avert tragedy and save humanity from certain destruction? Yet, all Willow (Alyson Hannigan) can manage to do is continuously change her clothes while Xander punches a hole in the wall. Leave it to the thousand-year old ex-vengeance demon to best capture the emotion: "I don't understand how this all happens. I mean I knew her and then . . . there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And I was having fruit punch and I thought well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever and she'll never have eggs or yawn or brush her hair, not ever. And no one will explain to me why." You and me both, sister.
But there's hardly any time for mourning when Glory nabs Dawn, ties her to the edge of a makeshift tower and prepares to kill her to death. After a tiny shock-induced coma on the Slayer's part, our girl does finally best the beast-with the help of a powerful spell from Willow, a robot decoy, and Xander working a wrecking ball. However, just as she's about to smush Glory down to her Manolo Blahnik's, Ben re-emerges. This should be good news-Buffy can kill a human without breaking a sweat. The bonus is that Ben and Glory cannot exist without each other-kill the man and the pesky demon god dies as well. But, there's a problem. Buffy can't kill a human. Giles explains as he quietly suffocates Ben: "Buffy . . . couldn't take a human life. She's a hero, you see. She's not like us" ("The Gift"). There are those of you who may think that Buffy should have killed Ben, that she somehow gets to take the easy way out while Giles is left with the dirty work. Come on, there's never an easy way out for Buffy. As Buffy makes her way to Dawn, dimensions are shattering. The only way to bring the walls back up and restore order? To kill her sister of course, or more precisely to give the portal back what it needs-"it has to have the blood" ('The Gift"). Standing on that precipice, the pieces start to come together. Buffy realizes that Dawn's blood "is just like mine" ("Blood Ties"); Dawn "is me; the monks made her out of me" ("The Gift"). If you're wondering what all that screaming is - it's me figuring out what comes next.
And so we have come to it. Buffy takes her Summers' blood and with a slow motion run that rips my heart out every time I watch it, she jumps to her death. You might argue that this action is contrary to the underlying theme of season five that I laid out at the outset-the value of human life is such that we will do anything to hold on to it. And if this is what you are wondering, grasshopper, then my work here is not yet done. Buffy recognizes this; that is precisely the reason she gives her life, saying: "this is the work that I have to do" ("The Gift"). There is never any question that the world must be saved so as to preserve the lives of those she has sworn to protect. The only question is: will Buffy let Dawn be the one to sacrifice her life? So, it's not just that Buffy must save the world because this is the responsibility of the Slayer. She could effectuate that with one swift push of little Dawnie to the unforgiving concrete below. It's much more personal than that. Buffy has to save Dawn. I'm not exactly sure why this touches me so. Perhaps it's because I don't exactly have the same passion about my own work. Perhaps it's because if faced with the same dilemma I lack the self-awareness to know who would be the one to make the leap. Or maybe it's simply because in this world that values life about as much as J. Lo values the sanctity of marriage, it's comforting to cling to the notion of such a hero. And so I lived that post Season-Five summer, not knowing how she would come back to us, only that I knew she would. And not because Sarah Michelle Gellar had a contract. And not because Buffy was on the UPN schedule for the next year. I knew it because I believe in hope. I believe in faith. But, mostly-say it with me now - I believe in Buffy.
