Dollhouse

It’s no secret that I worship at the altar of Joss Whedon, and the irony of that statement, given Whedon’s avowed atheism, is not lost on me. I am one of the legions of people who are autodidacts of the Whedonverse, those who will from time to time exclaim, “Shiny!” when pleased, who can sing along not merely with “Once More with Feeling” but also “Commentary! The Musical,” and who secretly lust after a Smile Time Angel puppet. I am a shameless Whedon geek. Should Joss Whedon cross my path, I would be reduced to a blithering idiot and be overcome with my need to kiss his, well, anything, really.

Which is all a preamble to my explanation of both why I find Whedon’s new series Dollhouse not very good and why, despite recognizing that I don’t like it very much, I’m still watching it.

Dollhouse_tv_show_image_eliza_dushku_-_joss_whedon Dollhouse, which began airing on Fox on Friday, February13, centers on Echo, played by Buffy alum Eliza Dushku, an operative for Dollhouse, this futuristic rent-a-person company housed in what may be the best-looking spa on earth. "Actives"—there appear to be a half-dozen or so of varying races and both genders—are incredibly beautiful, blank beings who spend their spare time wearing as little as possible, doing yoga and running on a treadmill. They also do Tai Chi, though they’ve yet to drink chai tea. When hired, these blank beings recline on spa chairs outfitted with blinky lights to get “imprinted” with “composite” personalities that allow them to be imbued with any range of characteristic, whereupon they are leased to people with more money than IQ points or self-awareness. All of them also receive a handler whom they trust implicity and who watches over them. In essence the company that is Dollhouse is in the business of creating the perfect person for the job at hand, regardless what the job may be, and for a limited time only. There’s also a rogue operative named Alpha and an impossibly hot FBI agent who is inexplicably hot on Dollhouse’s trail, just to complicate matters.

It’s an intellectually fascinating premise. Dollhouse has elements of The Matrix (easy implanting of difficult skills), Alias (the protean ability of one captivating woman), The X Files (an FBI agent who wants to believe and suffers for it), Terminator (technology gone horribly awry—or not), as well as a soupcon of The Stepford Wives (unbelievably gorgeous and compliant people). Dystopia + technology x (sexy bodies + gender politics) = a lot to ponder. And yet it’s the very premise of Dollhouse that poses its thorniest issues.

Dollhouse_echo-sc56pt_0049 Because it arose from the consciousness of Joss Whedon, the show has recognizable elements of his other three programs. There is the faintly dangerous force of dominant culture—Buffy’s Watcher’s Council as well as its Initiative, Angel’s Wolfram & Hart, Firefly’s Alliance—that shows up here in the eponymous Dollhouse corporation. There is the theme that we humans make our own worst enemies—Buffy’s Frankensteinian Adam, Angel’s freaky son Connor, Firefly’s zombie-esque Reavers—that reappears in Dollhouse’s problem son Alpha. There is the blending of genres. There is the ambient mistrust of capitalist enterprises. There is the hero’s mysterious background. There is the gratuitous musical moment. There are, in short, all the telltale markers of a Whedon production.

Click on the link :

http://prettydumbthings.typepad.com/chelseagirl/2009/03/on-the-dollhouse-dilemma-and-joss-whedons-body-of-work.html