Buffy The Vampire Slayer

I’m pleasantly surprised by the amount of attention yesterday’s Buffy post is getting; if I was blogging for hits, I’d turn this into Your all Buffy, all the time blog! But I won’t. I’ll cover the final episode, and I may post a few more afterthoughts. Then we’ll see where this blog will wander next.

Two things I should note about that post:

My fourteenth point, "don’t jump the shark," was a joke. As a rule of writing, it’s no more helpful than "don’t suck." I put it there because I wanted to consider the moment at which the show went irretreviably wrong, or at least, so wrong that the only fix would be to have Buffy discover that she was still in Hell and had yet to be revived. I picked the point at which the writers made a choice that ignored the character’s job history and her needs at that moment in her life: income and a flexible schedule, something an experienced waitress could easily get. And I think a diner would have made a more interesting setting for Buffy than a fast food restaurant. If I ever expand or revise the list, that point will probably become something like "be true to each character’s history."

There were moments that I liked throughout seasons six and seven. But the only episode during that time that I thought fired on every level was the musical. I don’t, for example, understand the fondness for "Conversations with the Dead," which was conceptually nice, but dragged out, and had some very odd choices for the First’s manifestations. That was probably based on the availability of actors, but still, if a choice is dramatically odd, it’s odd, whatever the excuse. All the actors did their usual excellent work, but my advice to someone who has not seen Buffy would stay the same: Start at the beginning and go forward. If the sixth season doesn’t feel like fun to you, watch the musical and quit. Will Shetterly 4:43 PM

li’l update

Still got the cold, still stupid. Fortunately, Emma was able to leap in with something that makes it sound like there’re some smarts in this house; see previous post.

The cold hasn’t hit me as hard as it hit Emma, and I now think it’s reasonable to hope that it won’t, perhaps thanks to the Zicam. But it was a bit scary this morning when I got up and my eyes wouldn’t focus. That was probably an effect of dehydration; I drank a bit and tried unsuccessfully to sleep and thought that I would much rather give up an arm than both eyes. Now all around me is crisp and beautiful again.