love letter to a fight
Style is important to creative media, just as much as content. Superficial shine hooks a typical consumer faster than a plot or a series-long attempt to articulate a Theme. Yeah, okay, the reason I'm crazy about Farscape is because I find Crichton's struggle with the universe fascinating, but what grabbed me initially was the smart dialogue, the breakneck pace, the sparkly blue skin, the visual effects. Speaking as someone who came in at Nerve/THM, and wanted to know where all of those awesome-looking memories came from, hell yeah, it was the show's style that first got me interested.
Including, of course, the black leather.
It goes beyond just reeling me in, though. The core of the show -- characters, story, theme -- is what keeps me hanging on as a Fan, focused and analytical. Yet the show's style is just as crucial. You can have all the great plot twists and emotional development you want, but if the dialogue is boring or badly-written, or the effects look stupid, I'm not going to be a very happy -- or interested -- viewer. And a genre show I think is especially vulnerable to missteps in these areas.
I've blogged elsewhere about why it is that genre tends not to be as heavily awarded as dramas based on real life. In comments there was some speculation that a) a pre-existing bias against genre means shows like these don't get the same resources or commercial exposure as their more "grounded" neighbors, and b) it's a rare actor who can rise above material that already requires such a hefty suspension of disbelief, or that is distracting in itself (vampire makeup? aliens with tentacles?).
Well, okay. I figure, if you're a long-time, hard core Fan, generally you're either able to roll with the occasional lameness and deal with it, or you acquire a mindset where all "lameness" becomes one and the same, and never even registers anymore because it's incorporated into that Fannishness. For example, learning Klingon or having a serious argument during dinner about Buffy's sex life. (And before anyone's hackles get raised, I put the word in quotation marks because my point is, it's only considered lame to the people who don't do it or don't grok it.)
A couple of weeks ago everyone and their mother was squeeing on LJ about the double-whammy of Buffy and Smallville. Me, I was trying to figure out whether I'd even seen the same episodes. Never mind the writing or the plots -- it was the acting and effects I found myself unable to stomach. An elementary school play could have done better, been more believable, more affecting. But the fact that so many others considered these eps to be generally good made me start thinking, "Christ, have I just grown out of being a Fan? Has Buffy really been this stupid all along?"
But you know, I'm beginning to realize how much of it comes down to the issue of style. Consider that a scene on Queer as Folk, set to a sad song, shot with appropriate mood lighting and containing no more than ten words of dialogue between actors I've never seen before, can move me further than two scenes of desperate, overwrought speechifying by Sarah Michelle Gellar about saving the world. On the one hand, QAF was better executed. On the other hand, Buffy was already hamstrung by its farfetched material. It had to work that much harder to sell me on its story, and in the end, it didn't succeed.
(The flip-side is that maybe if I were more the kind of Fan I described above, with the Klingon and all, I wouldn't have any quibbles -- i.e., my genre-colored lenses would still be in good repair, therefore all would look peachy.)
But. The thing is, even with all of that said, even with all of my recent disappointment, it is possible to get that shit right. It isn't that Buffy has been stupid all along -- when it had the right elements in place, it did work. Man, did it work. And God help me if I wasn't reminded of its past glory by the one show I'd thought was beyond saving.
Of course, they had a little help.
Honestly, I never put much stock in all of those people who said SMG was too skinny to be Buffy, that she looked nothing like a Slayer with superpowers. I thought she was fine in fight scenes (or her stunt double was, whatever), and plus, wasn't it kind of cool that she looked so fragile but could kick so much ass?
Then last fall I flipped to the S6 premiere a few minutes late, after a long day at work and an even longer summer without the show, right in the middle of a typical fight scene.
My first thought: "Uh, no." My second thought: "God, could they MAKE this look anymore ridiculous?"
And never once, all season long, have I stopped thinking this. Whether it's SMG herself, or the stunt double, or the production values on the show, or simply the film stock they use, every fight has looked fake, fake, fake. Which sucks, for a show where violence is such a key element.
Cut to Angel and enter Faith, stage left. Faith has meat on her bones. Faith looks like she could kick your ass. Faith looks like she could kick a vampire's ass. When Faith does kick a vampire's ass, it's completely fucking believable. Because why? Because Eliza Dushku rocks, and because the show has style and knows how to use it.
Slow motion, intense shadowy lighting, every action choreographed for pain, speed and impact. Faith fights like she means it, with her entire body, like her entire self is the fight. Even when she gets her ass kicked it's breathtaking. Punched into a crate, thrown into a row of barrels, crawling on the ground, covered in dirt and blood, spitting blood. That's my girl.
And around her, everyone else rallies. Writers, directors, actors. There's a renewed energy to people's performances: Wesley is a Watcher, finally and for the first time, Cordelia is actually Cordelia (even though she isn't, really, Cordelia *g*), Connor blinks and awe and respect come over his face, Angelus tries to cover up his failure with a wink that doesn't go all the way. Gunn says, "I like her." I say, "Me, too. Oh yeah, me too."
She sprawls in a patch of sun on the gritty floor and I wonder what's going through her head. She's only been out a few hours, too full of purpose to stop and think about what that means, who she has to deal with. She knows she doesn't have a lot of time, but did she know she would almost die? That after reigning supreme in the prison yard it would be so different and difficult when it came to the real thing?
She comes in taking charge but the truth is she's never led an army before -- she's only joined, reacted. And when the Beast said, "This is all you are," she had that look on her face, that look I love because it's so on the edge, because that's who Faith is. Never completely one way or the other, strong or weak, good or bad, no matter how much of a front she puts up, no matter how much she wants it black and white. She's always been on the edge, that girl, and the best part is watching her walk it.
And finally, finally, we can do that again.
Including, of course, the black leather.
It goes beyond just reeling me in, though. The core of the show -- characters, story, theme -- is what keeps me hanging on as a Fan, focused and analytical. Yet the show's style is just as crucial. You can have all the great plot twists and emotional development you want, but if the dialogue is boring or badly-written, or the effects look stupid, I'm not going to be a very happy -- or interested -- viewer. And a genre show I think is especially vulnerable to missteps in these areas.
I've blogged elsewhere about why it is that genre tends not to be as heavily awarded as dramas based on real life. In comments there was some speculation that a) a pre-existing bias against genre means shows like these don't get the same resources or commercial exposure as their more "grounded" neighbors, and b) it's a rare actor who can rise above material that already requires such a hefty suspension of disbelief, or that is distracting in itself (vampire makeup? aliens with tentacles?).
Well, okay. I figure, if you're a long-time, hard core Fan, generally you're either able to roll with the occasional lameness and deal with it, or you acquire a mindset where all "lameness" becomes one and the same, and never even registers anymore because it's incorporated into that Fannishness. For example, learning Klingon or having a serious argument during dinner about Buffy's sex life. (And before anyone's hackles get raised, I put the word in quotation marks because my point is, it's only considered lame to the people who don't do it or don't grok it.)
A couple of weeks ago everyone and their mother was squeeing on LJ about the double-whammy of Buffy and Smallville. Me, I was trying to figure out whether I'd even seen the same episodes. Never mind the writing or the plots -- it was the acting and effects I found myself unable to stomach. An elementary school play could have done better, been more believable, more affecting. But the fact that so many others considered these eps to be generally good made me start thinking, "Christ, have I just grown out of being a Fan? Has Buffy really been this stupid all along?"
But you know, I'm beginning to realize how much of it comes down to the issue of style. Consider that a scene on Queer as Folk, set to a sad song, shot with appropriate mood lighting and containing no more than ten words of dialogue between actors I've never seen before, can move me further than two scenes of desperate, overwrought speechifying by Sarah Michelle Gellar about saving the world. On the one hand, QAF was better executed. On the other hand, Buffy was already hamstrung by its farfetched material. It had to work that much harder to sell me on its story, and in the end, it didn't succeed.
(The flip-side is that maybe if I were more the kind of Fan I described above, with the Klingon and all, I wouldn't have any quibbles -- i.e., my genre-colored lenses would still be in good repair, therefore all would look peachy.)
But. The thing is, even with all of that said, even with all of my recent disappointment, it is possible to get that shit right. It isn't that Buffy has been stupid all along -- when it had the right elements in place, it did work. Man, did it work. And God help me if I wasn't reminded of its past glory by the one show I'd thought was beyond saving.
Of course, they had a little help.
Honestly, I never put much stock in all of those people who said SMG was too skinny to be Buffy, that she looked nothing like a Slayer with superpowers. I thought she was fine in fight scenes (or her stunt double was, whatever), and plus, wasn't it kind of cool that she looked so fragile but could kick so much ass?
Then last fall I flipped to the S6 premiere a few minutes late, after a long day at work and an even longer summer without the show, right in the middle of a typical fight scene.
My first thought: "Uh, no." My second thought: "God, could they MAKE this look anymore ridiculous?"
And never once, all season long, have I stopped thinking this. Whether it's SMG herself, or the stunt double, or the production values on the show, or simply the film stock they use, every fight has looked fake, fake, fake. Which sucks, for a show where violence is such a key element.
Cut to Angel and enter Faith, stage left. Faith has meat on her bones. Faith looks like she could kick your ass. Faith looks like she could kick a vampire's ass. When Faith does kick a vampire's ass, it's completely fucking believable. Because why? Because Eliza Dushku rocks, and because the show has style and knows how to use it.
Slow motion, intense shadowy lighting, every action choreographed for pain, speed and impact. Faith fights like she means it, with her entire body, like her entire self is the fight. Even when she gets her ass kicked it's breathtaking. Punched into a crate, thrown into a row of barrels, crawling on the ground, covered in dirt and blood, spitting blood. That's my girl.
And around her, everyone else rallies. Writers, directors, actors. There's a renewed energy to people's performances: Wesley is a Watcher, finally and for the first time, Cordelia is actually Cordelia (even though she isn't, really, Cordelia *g*), Connor blinks and awe and respect come over his face, Angelus tries to cover up his failure with a wink that doesn't go all the way. Gunn says, "I like her." I say, "Me, too. Oh yeah, me too."
She sprawls in a patch of sun on the gritty floor and I wonder what's going through her head. She's only been out a few hours, too full of purpose to stop and think about what that means, who she has to deal with. She knows she doesn't have a lot of time, but did she know she would almost die? That after reigning supreme in the prison yard it would be so different and difficult when it came to the real thing?
She comes in taking charge but the truth is she's never led an army before -- she's only joined, reacted. And when the Beast said, "This is all you are," she had that look on her face, that look I love because it's so on the edge, because that's who Faith is. Never completely one way or the other, strong or weak, good or bad, no matter how much of a front she puts up, no matter how much she wants it black and white. She's always been on the edge, that girl, and the best part is watching her walk it.
And finally, finally, we can do that again.