(no subject)
In the past few days I've spent a bit of time pondering the latest SPN episode and all of the things that did and didn't work for me. While Ruby still isn't my favorite character I've been able to come to terms with the mytharc things that were bothering me. Part of it does come down to trust, in nearly three years Kripke&Co have not once shown us that they don't know where they're going with all of this nor have they ever sold us out by taking the easy way out and I don't foresee that happening any time soon. I trust them to do right by the story and the characters so I'm happy to wait around till the full picture is revealed.
My first, knee-jerk problem came from the way the mythos suddenly seemed to move away form the traditional angel/demon understanding that they'd been utilizing for quite some time. It's funny, too, because my own religion falls more in line with what Ruby was spouting during her little end speech rather than the, 'angels and demons are different beings from humans,' that seemed to be the case. I think I can blame Whedon for this particular reaction, I got so fed up with his whole, 'demons are really people too,' proposition that anything that even smells of it makes me a little nervous.
[Tangent: If demons were really people too then what was Buffy doing killing vampires left and right? A vampire could only be "good" if it had a soul but how is that fair to the soul that's trapped in the body with the demon? I still say the cruelest thing Buffy ever did was reensoul Angelus. She meant well but neither she, nor the show, truly examined the consequences of that action. Angelus's sins weren't Angel's responsibility nor was it his job to perform expiation for them. I've always felt that Supernatural has done a much better job at examining those thorny moral issues than Buffy or Angel ever did so the introduction of even the idea of a "good" demon way back in 'The Kids Are Alright' instantly put me on edge]
I'm not sure who's post I saw this idea in first (I think it was fleshflutter's, but I'm not sure) but I've seen it espoused elsewhere since but it is true that Ruby played Dean in exactly the same manner in which she played Sam. In her own way she's smarter than Meg or Azazel, she knows that you can't get one Winchester without getting the other. Seen in that light all of her actions during the episode and ever word she spoke to Dean later on are evidence of her continued manipulation of both Winchesters to her own ends. Everyone knows that the best lies contain elements of the truth so we won't know how much of what Ruby said is pure, unadulterated bullshit until events play out for themselves. So while I'm perfectly willing to accept that damned souls become demons (and am even becoming rather excited for what that means for the mythology and how the opposite would most probably be the same) I won't believe that Ruby is "special" until everything finally shakes itself out.
On a more personal note, if none of the men are willing to do it I'd be perfectly happy to put a bullet in her head and save everyone the frustration. I can't think of anything she could ever do that would make me trust her, even a little.
I've noticed a lot of bubbling dissatisfaction with the large female body count in the latest episode and whenever people start pointing that out and I hadn't been as put off by it I'm lead down deep, analytical paths. I am a feminist, have always been a feminist, so not being bothered always causes me to take a deeper look at my own perceptions. I haven't finished the self-analysis but in the process I noticed a deeper theme that has underpined the entire season, one that is particularly suited to portrayal by female characters. We have seen, time and time again this season, victims, antagonists, and even one of our heroes, trapped by forces they can't control either by their own choice or by the choices or actions of others.
This theme struck me when I made the connection between the members of the book club coven and the mothers who were being devoured by their children in 'The Kids Are Alright.' Both episodes were largely focused on the lives of women wherein the presence of men was either obfuscated or obviated. I felt immediate empathy for all of these women because I, too, have felt trapped in my life, boxed in by others' expectations and perceptions of me and for me. When that mother drove her car into the lake, ostensibly killing her child, I felt nothing for her but pity. In that moment, and later, when that same mother was hiding in her bathroom from the child hideously reborn, I felt like the show was making a strong observation about the stresses and pressures of womanhood that so often go unnoticed and unremarked by society at large. We're taught to value childbearing above everything else and the terrifying aspects of taking on so large a task are only ever whispered about because anyone who confronts them are shouted down and villified.
This is continued in 'Bedtime Stories' where a woman who was trapped by both her stepmother's psychological problems and her father's love could only reach out and gain attention when she hurt other people. She wasn't truly the villain of the piece but rather another victim. Her only way out was to be heard and acknowledged, to be perceived. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who has felt like no one is listening to me, that no one can see me. I've had doctors who think I'm hysterical and men who won't truly listen to what I have to say. We've all been ignored and wanted to scream until someone, somewhere, hears what we have to say.
Which leads us to 'Malleus Malleficarum.' These are women who have the things that we're told we want, husbands and nice homes and social status, and yet they weren't satisfied. They wanted something more and so were the perfect fodder upon which a demon could work its temptations. Tammy the demon showed them a couple tricks, gave them a way in which they could break free from their cloistered lives and they jumped on it. The real tragedy is not that they died but that they sold their souls without ever realizing the true cost. They believed in the effect and not the cause and so, in essence, lost everything they thought they were gaining. They didn't want power, they wanted freedom and they never truly had either. It could be said that the only villain of the episode was the man, the cheater, who pitted woman against woman because he couldn't keep it in his pants. And yet, maybe in his own way he felt as trapped as the members of the coven, searching for everything he wanted in the worst way possible.
It was an episode wherein most of the characters had to die so as to not lessen the danger of the overarcing story that could not have been told from a male point of view. Men in America do not feel trapped in the same way that women do, they, generally, don't feel ignored or disempowered by the roles set out for them by society. Look at the difference between the Van Allens' different social groups, the men had a fantasy football league and the women had a book club. Different types of analysis and discussion go on in the different groups: book clubs are about interpretation and understanding other people and oneself while fantasy football leagues are about the statistics and scores of completely separate individuals. The women were seeking, the men were observing. Yeah, the men want their teams to win, their players to be better, but the focus is outside of themselves because they're well content with everything they have and everything they are. Even though both men and women can be witches it's no wonder that a coven is thought of as a female organization because of the inherent social differences between groups of men and women.
And even though women can, in some instances, fit more easily into the 'trapped' theme, we've seen all sorts of people trapped in various ways. Gordon was trapped both by his ideology and his vampirism, the pagan gods were trapped by the need to conform or die, the brothers who killed their father were trapped by their past transgressions, the people sacrificed by the pagan gods (entirely male, that we saw) were trapped because they bought some frou-frou wreathes. Finally, Dean is trapped by his deal and Sam's actions are curtailed because of it.
It's not surprising that an episode that gave us an insight into Dean's post-mortal prospects involved so many female characters. Dean, in a societally female-typical way, has always been defined by his family and has made his choices based on their desires. His one selfish decision, to trade his soul for his brother's life, was still focused around the importance of others over his own self worth. He didn't make his deal to lower a mortgage rate or get a husband a better job but the impetus is similar, doing something for someone else to make one's life better.
Interestingly enough, the two new female characters, Bela and Ruby, are both women who were trapped but have fought their way out of it and are now working for themselves alone. We don't know precisely how Bela was trapped but there is something in her past that she escaped and we know that Ruby fought her way out of Hell in order to do what she's doing now.
What does all of this mean? I'm not entirely sure but there are deeper things going on than one would imagine from a show that markets itself as a horror movie a week. I don't want to apologize for or handwave any of the show's actions because imagery and on point plot depictions are important and do send messages, for good or ill. However, I do believe there is more here than meets the eye. In a way, I'm happier to have a show that causes people to wrestle with these issues rather than one that people praise as being wholeheartedly feminist and doesn't entirely succeed on that objective.
In sum: I love it when my shows make me think. =D
All of this talk about women gives me the perfect opportunity to bring up halfamoon, a comm that was set up to celebrate female characters during the first two weeks of February. As part of that celebration I re-posted an old, favorite story of mine, A Woman's Touch. Because sometimes being "only a girl" is the best way to get the job done.
My first, knee-jerk problem came from the way the mythos suddenly seemed to move away form the traditional angel/demon understanding that they'd been utilizing for quite some time. It's funny, too, because my own religion falls more in line with what Ruby was spouting during her little end speech rather than the, 'angels and demons are different beings from humans,' that seemed to be the case. I think I can blame Whedon for this particular reaction, I got so fed up with his whole, 'demons are really people too,' proposition that anything that even smells of it makes me a little nervous.
[Tangent: If demons were really people too then what was Buffy doing killing vampires left and right? A vampire could only be "good" if it had a soul but how is that fair to the soul that's trapped in the body with the demon? I still say the cruelest thing Buffy ever did was reensoul Angelus. She meant well but neither she, nor the show, truly examined the consequences of that action. Angelus's sins weren't Angel's responsibility nor was it his job to perform expiation for them. I've always felt that Supernatural has done a much better job at examining those thorny moral issues than Buffy or Angel ever did so the introduction of even the idea of a "good" demon way back in 'The Kids Are Alright' instantly put me on edge]
I'm not sure who's post I saw this idea in first (I think it was fleshflutter's, but I'm not sure) but I've seen it espoused elsewhere since but it is true that Ruby played Dean in exactly the same manner in which she played Sam. In her own way she's smarter than Meg or Azazel, she knows that you can't get one Winchester without getting the other. Seen in that light all of her actions during the episode and ever word she spoke to Dean later on are evidence of her continued manipulation of both Winchesters to her own ends. Everyone knows that the best lies contain elements of the truth so we won't know how much of what Ruby said is pure, unadulterated bullshit until events play out for themselves. So while I'm perfectly willing to accept that damned souls become demons (and am even becoming rather excited for what that means for the mythology and how the opposite would most probably be the same) I won't believe that Ruby is "special" until everything finally shakes itself out.
On a more personal note, if none of the men are willing to do it I'd be perfectly happy to put a bullet in her head and save everyone the frustration. I can't think of anything she could ever do that would make me trust her, even a little.
I've noticed a lot of bubbling dissatisfaction with the large female body count in the latest episode and whenever people start pointing that out and I hadn't been as put off by it I'm lead down deep, analytical paths. I am a feminist, have always been a feminist, so not being bothered always causes me to take a deeper look at my own perceptions. I haven't finished the self-analysis but in the process I noticed a deeper theme that has underpined the entire season, one that is particularly suited to portrayal by female characters. We have seen, time and time again this season, victims, antagonists, and even one of our heroes, trapped by forces they can't control either by their own choice or by the choices or actions of others.
This theme struck me when I made the connection between the members of the book club coven and the mothers who were being devoured by their children in 'The Kids Are Alright.' Both episodes were largely focused on the lives of women wherein the presence of men was either obfuscated or obviated. I felt immediate empathy for all of these women because I, too, have felt trapped in my life, boxed in by others' expectations and perceptions of me and for me. When that mother drove her car into the lake, ostensibly killing her child, I felt nothing for her but pity. In that moment, and later, when that same mother was hiding in her bathroom from the child hideously reborn, I felt like the show was making a strong observation about the stresses and pressures of womanhood that so often go unnoticed and unremarked by society at large. We're taught to value childbearing above everything else and the terrifying aspects of taking on so large a task are only ever whispered about because anyone who confronts them are shouted down and villified.
This is continued in 'Bedtime Stories' where a woman who was trapped by both her stepmother's psychological problems and her father's love could only reach out and gain attention when she hurt other people. She wasn't truly the villain of the piece but rather another victim. Her only way out was to be heard and acknowledged, to be perceived. I'm sure I'm not the only woman who has felt like no one is listening to me, that no one can see me. I've had doctors who think I'm hysterical and men who won't truly listen to what I have to say. We've all been ignored and wanted to scream until someone, somewhere, hears what we have to say.
Which leads us to 'Malleus Malleficarum.' These are women who have the things that we're told we want, husbands and nice homes and social status, and yet they weren't satisfied. They wanted something more and so were the perfect fodder upon which a demon could work its temptations. Tammy the demon showed them a couple tricks, gave them a way in which they could break free from their cloistered lives and they jumped on it. The real tragedy is not that they died but that they sold their souls without ever realizing the true cost. They believed in the effect and not the cause and so, in essence, lost everything they thought they were gaining. They didn't want power, they wanted freedom and they never truly had either. It could be said that the only villain of the episode was the man, the cheater, who pitted woman against woman because he couldn't keep it in his pants. And yet, maybe in his own way he felt as trapped as the members of the coven, searching for everything he wanted in the worst way possible.
It was an episode wherein most of the characters had to die so as to not lessen the danger of the overarcing story that could not have been told from a male point of view. Men in America do not feel trapped in the same way that women do, they, generally, don't feel ignored or disempowered by the roles set out for them by society. Look at the difference between the Van Allens' different social groups, the men had a fantasy football league and the women had a book club. Different types of analysis and discussion go on in the different groups: book clubs are about interpretation and understanding other people and oneself while fantasy football leagues are about the statistics and scores of completely separate individuals. The women were seeking, the men were observing. Yeah, the men want their teams to win, their players to be better, but the focus is outside of themselves because they're well content with everything they have and everything they are. Even though both men and women can be witches it's no wonder that a coven is thought of as a female organization because of the inherent social differences between groups of men and women.
And even though women can, in some instances, fit more easily into the 'trapped' theme, we've seen all sorts of people trapped in various ways. Gordon was trapped both by his ideology and his vampirism, the pagan gods were trapped by the need to conform or die, the brothers who killed their father were trapped by their past transgressions, the people sacrificed by the pagan gods (entirely male, that we saw) were trapped because they bought some frou-frou wreathes. Finally, Dean is trapped by his deal and Sam's actions are curtailed because of it.
It's not surprising that an episode that gave us an insight into Dean's post-mortal prospects involved so many female characters. Dean, in a societally female-typical way, has always been defined by his family and has made his choices based on their desires. His one selfish decision, to trade his soul for his brother's life, was still focused around the importance of others over his own self worth. He didn't make his deal to lower a mortgage rate or get a husband a better job but the impetus is similar, doing something for someone else to make one's life better.
Interestingly enough, the two new female characters, Bela and Ruby, are both women who were trapped but have fought their way out of it and are now working for themselves alone. We don't know precisely how Bela was trapped but there is something in her past that she escaped and we know that Ruby fought her way out of Hell in order to do what she's doing now.
What does all of this mean? I'm not entirely sure but there are deeper things going on than one would imagine from a show that markets itself as a horror movie a week. I don't want to apologize for or handwave any of the show's actions because imagery and on point plot depictions are important and do send messages, for good or ill. However, I do believe there is more here than meets the eye. In a way, I'm happier to have a show that causes people to wrestle with these issues rather than one that people praise as being wholeheartedly feminist and doesn't entirely succeed on that objective.
In sum: I love it when my shows make me think. =D
All of this talk about women gives me the perfect opportunity to bring up halfamoon, a comm that was set up to celebrate female characters during the first two weeks of February. As part of that celebration I re-posted an old, favorite story of mine, A Woman's Touch. Because sometimes being "only a girl" is the best way to get the job done.