It seems to be an empirical fact, a scientifically proven law of nature that film is a superior medium to television. It’s also universally believed that fantasy genre shows are inferior to just about anything else presented via an already inferior medium. But Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, proves both of these to be the misconceptions of too-cool-for-schmool snots who have either never sat down to watch Buffy or who are too academically analytical to feel anymore. I should know. I used to be one of those snots – literally. As I was laid out on the couch with a head cold, a pathetic, sniveling mess, I made my way through the entire Buffy series and have seen the light.  Joss Whedon is a genius.

What sets Whedon apart in both genre and “serious” television? Well, as Whedon himself puts it, “It just depends on how much you care.” And Joss cares. A LOT. Unlike most of his contemporaries, Whedon respects his viewers. The continuity and consistency over the seven seasons is astounding. Seeds for some storylines were planted as early as two years in advance, yielding huge emotional payoffs when set against such a broad canvas. 

Of course, the continuity and levels of character building make coming to Buffy mid-series a bit daunting. To an outsider jumping in, the show seems impossible to understand with its multiple characters, layers of back-story, and seemingly ridiculous premise (see SEASON ONE REVIEW). This is what kept me from catching on while it was still on the air. Joss himself, well aware of this dilemma, has said that the kind of fans he’d want to attract would be the ones who would go back to figure out what they’d missed.

And now that the seventh and final season has just been released on DVD, this is the perfect time to take the plunge. If you can grab all seven sets and watch them in one blow, even better. You’ll be able to fully appreciate Whedon’s mastermind, the arc of each season, and how each arc fits in the Big Picture of the entire series. 

Like a master bricklayer, Whedon builds an even stronger foundation each season, so that by the fifth and sixth years, we are willing to follow him into some very, very dark spaces. He never rushes us into anything. Everything is so carefully developed every move his characters make rings true. While Whedon may push our favorite characters into places we’d really rather they not go, there is never one false note. They may make bad choices, but those choices always make sense. 

Whedon expands on his original high-school-as-Hell (or Hellmouth) metaphor in Seasons Two and Three. More character development, big time romantic angst, and a bit of delving into the consequences of being “The Slayer.” 

In Season Four, the Scoobies head to college. (By the way, we get a great travelogue for UCLA which doubles as UC Sunnydale. Go Bruins!) While many fans have complained that this season had the weakest arc, Whedon argues – and it’s hard to disagree – that it had the strongest stand-alone episodes including the terrifying, silent “Hush” and the brilliantly written nightmarish fifth-season setup “Restless.”

By Season Five, Whedon knows we’ll follow him through the Big Questions. And this is, as I’ve said in other reviews, the fantasy genre put to its best use. Things that are otherwise too painful, too awkward, or just too plain mundane to express in “real world” settings are, when done well, a helluva lot more effective with Make Believe. This is where that consistency and continuity come in. If you are going to create your own world, as long as the characters abide by the laws of that world, the audience will follow.  The characters on Buffy face the same challenges that we all do – self doubt, loneliness, loss, mortality – but it’s a bit more compelling when the universe as we know it is at stake, no pun intended. And let’s face it, when dealing with such things, we really do feel like the universe is coming to an end. Buffy is all the humor, love, pain, and sorrow of real life but as Joss puts it, “writ large.”

This is perhaps why Season Six is the most difficult to watch. It’s quite rooted in the real world. Dubbed the “Oh-grow-up” season by Whedon, the Scoobies are bogged down by bad plumbing, house payments, addictions, and for the first time, guns. It all appears a bit uneven with the seemingly unthreatening nerd villains, but when things take a dark turn, their initial innocence is all the more disturbing. “It is kind of appalling,” says Whedon of that dark turn, “and it has to do with male insecurity and it has to do with the idiocy of our culture.” Again, not exactly the most pleasant season to watch but perhaps the most thought provoking. And it all comes together in the wrenchingly brilliant season finale. Many have criticized the seventh and final year for showing a first-time shortage of ideas, but it seems less that than a deliberate attempt to bring the series full circle, to restate what Whedon often refers to as his “mission statement.” So let’s talk a little about that mission statement. 

Since Buffy hit the air, there’s been a rash of “butt-kicking” women on the tube and screen. Everyone gets excited chanting “women’s empowerment, rah, rah, rah,” blah, blah, blah. But just because a woman is literally kicking butt, doesn’t mean she’s not being exploited. As Whedon told Candace Havens in an interview,

“There’s a comics artist I won’t name who I’ve talked to. His creation is really popular, I guess, but there’s this weird thing, where I guess she was molested, and that’s part of the story. But, you know, she’s a young girl who looks like a Playboy model in her undies. I wanted to molest her, too, you know? The message that sends is weird, and I don’t go for it. 

“Because of stuff like that I went away from comics for a long time. Everything seemed to be soft-core and all of it was disguised as empowerment. ‘I have the power to have my shirt ripped, and now you can see my nipples! Ah-ha!’”

You’ll notice Whedon never goes near this stuff. Buffy and her pals wear plenty of clothes and have, with the exception of early Willow wardrobe, great fashion sense.  You’ll also never find Buffy in the kind of bizarro teeth-pulling-interrogation scenes you see on Alias. Sure, she takes her licks, but it’s never in the same disturbing way other female heroes do. If I were still at UCLA, I’d write a thesis on how so-called women-kick-butt shows are just an excuse to perpetrate more violence against women.

Okay, enough on that subject. I’d also like to argue that the Buffster is the best-written female character in film/tv history. And this is where television has an advantage. Sure, Ripley and Sarah Connor were cool, but we only got a few hours with them. We got seven seasons of Buffy, and unlike other television producers, Joss Whedon didn’t waste one year. 

As the Associate Dean of UCLA’s School of Film and Television notes in the Season Seven extras, Buffy “Speaks in many ways to what it is to be a contemporary woman.  Not just a young, impressionable girl who wants to look hot but also to women who hold major responsibility and have had to sort of live their lives through being a superwoman.”

As revealed in the DVD extras, one of Joss Whedon’s underlying messages is that, “To be strong, you don’t have to give anything up.” Whether that’s her family, her friends, her femininity, her humanity, or her career – what makes Buffy so refreshing is that, even though it wasn’t always easy, over the series she learns she can indeed have all those things. Okay, she’s still got a little trouble with her love life, but the series does end on an optimistic note. We gotta have a movie, right?

The themes addressed on Buffy are universal. They don’t just apply to Slayers. Or women. They apply to everyone. And while we’re at it, we should also mention that Joss’s male characters are just as diverse and multi-dimensional as the women. 

Of course, let’s not forget that Buffy is also a lot of fun. You won’t find a show with snappier, wittier dialogue or better one-liners. But for those of you who are too snooty to give it a chance, I’ve tried to provide a hint of its depth. Whedon, of course, sums it up best: “Whatever I wrote, it was something that meant something to me. It was never a game. It was never me just having fun, although I almost never had more fun in my life.”  Buffy the Vampire Slayer is an example of all that television can be if those producing it would just care enough.