Angel Rewatch: "Belonging" through "There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb"
A/N: This is like half as long as it initially was. But the internet ate all of my Really Important Analysis. I am too angry to even employ the use of all caps. Hmph. Anyway:
I love Pylea. I love Pylea so much. The title of this blog is "Plrtz Glrb," okay. Clearly, this is a story arc that is important to me. But in case I haven't made that clear enough, here is a list of reasons why Pylea pleases me more than most other things:
- Pylea is hilarious. Joss Whedon's Numfar and Drokken and Lorne's "mother" and the entire Deathwok Clan. Cordelia being made ruler after a day. Angel making out with his reflection and not being on fire. Wesley thinking they're winning. Everything Groo says ever (god bless you Mark Lutz). These things make me laugh with the delight of a thousand Teletubbies sun-babies, and I love them.
- It is my personal headcanon that Joss, Tim Minear, and David Greenwalt sat around in the Really Important Screenwriters' Drunk Room of Good Ideas (it exists) and were like, "Fuck it, we're going medieval." You can't take this thought from me.
- This arc shows us exactly who every major character is, what they've been through, and where they're headed. No really. I'll talk about it in the second half of this little essay thing.
- The allusions to The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland actually blow my mind. I'm the idiot who always forgets about "Belonging" when I'm rewatching these episodes, because it doesn't actually, you know, take place in Pylea. But Lorne makes a reference to Elton John's "Yellow Brick Road" and calls the kids in the public library "munchkins." I am consequently happy as a fat orange cat eating lasagna.
- The Wolf. The Ram. The Hart. My friend Clara caught on to this before the Pylea episodes, and I was genuinely sad for her, because when 16-year-old me watched as Wesley figured that out, I literally LOST MY SHIT. I paused the episode, jumped out of bed, pointed at the computer screen and shouted, "WHAT!" I just want my friends to have all the happy, "WHAT THE FUCK HOW IS THIS EVEN REAL" moments that I had. They make life interesting. Oh well...
- Also: The humans-are-cows story is wonderful. I feel like it embodies the fundamental difference between Buffy and Angel. On Buffy, for the most part, demons are bad and humans are good. There are good demons and bad humans, but the question of accountability and redeemability is entirely wrapped up in the soul--the humanity. I'm not sure where we draw the line on Angel. I mean, Lorne comes from a world where green, pointy-horned men are normative, and though his family members seem like a bunch of two-dimensional ass-wipes, they also seem very human. Lorne himself is empathetic and in love with music and art and expression. The only person like that on Buffy is Clem, and he's more innocuous than he is actually human-like. I don't know, maybe this is just me fanwanking over all the moral ambiguity on Angel, but I think it's important that we experience this world. WHATEVER.
Okay, so now I'm going to talk about the characters and who they are at this stage in the game.
I'll start with Cordelia, because she's the first one to get sucked into Pylea. Cordelia's character has, at this point, arrived. When I tell people who have just started watching Buffy that I love Cordelia, THIS is the Cordelia I'm talking about. This woman has gone from "Who gave you permission to exist?" to refusing to give away her visions by having sex with Groo. They cause her so much unbearable pain, but they give her purpose. She would rather suffer through them than give up that burden. I'm also realizing now how funny it is that Angel can't have sex with Buffy because he'll lose his soul, and now Cordelia can't have sex with Groo because she'll lose hers. They're her purpose. They've become a part of her, and she's strong enough to know that, even if the pain kills her, she can't give it up. It's poetic. Also: Angel and Cordelia should just have sex with each other? I'm such a problem solver, god damn.
And then we have Lorne. Maybe I'm just completely oblivious, but the first time I watched this show, I had no idea that Lorne was nameless. I figured I had just missed them say it. I never thought of him as "The Host" (which just sounds like the name for a weird science fiction sex alien or something). So when the Big Reveal happened and we found out about Krevlornswath of the Deathwok Clan, I was a) completely surprised and b) completely satisfied. I never knew how much I wanted a Lorne origin story…until it happened, and it was the greatest thing that ever had happened to me. First of all, I am so grateful for the scene in which Lorne goes to visit his psychic friend and she tells him that he needs to go home one last time, because it functions as a Big Neon Sign of Check Out This Character Development. Because of this, I paid attention when his mother spat in his face and gave Angel a hero's welcome. I paid attention when he sang to save Fred's life. I paid attention when he got back to LA and realized just how much this was the place that he belonged--in a city where no one belongs. This is where I realize how much growth Lorne has done off screen. I can tell that he had a rough childhood (to say the least), but also that he's over it now. He's at the point in his life where a trip to his home--a place he literally equates with hell--doesn't ruin him. It just reinforces the decision he made however long ago to leave.
Then we have Gunn. I've mentioned before that during my first time watching this show, I was not in the Charles Gunn fan club. If I get nothing out of this rewatch experience than a newfound appreciation/love for this man, it will have been a positive use of my time on Planet Earth. Gunn has just lost one of his crew, and he wasn't there to save him. He feels guilt, and he feels grief. But he decides, after all is said and done, that Cordelia Chase is a girl worth saving. I find that, as a college student, Gunn is a particularly relatable character. There are so many people I have grown apart from, and even though they miss me and, on occasion, say that they need me, I've moved on. I'm always there for them when they need me, because I still care about them. But our lives are no longer so entwined. Gunn's story shows us that it's okay to make new friends and to move on. It's okay to find a new purpose in life. All the guilt that goes into moving on is real and it's sad, and I'm so glad a character like him exists in this universe. Ugh, I could go on about Gunn all day, but I really want to talk about--
Wesley. Now, Wesley has yet to really become the fictional man that I love more than all the other fictional men, but he's getting there. This arc is, above all else, a test for him. In "Belonging," we see him calling home. We imagine the disappointment in his father's voice when Wesley tells him that he's in charge now. We can feel the unrealized potential, the insecurity. (Wesley, god damn it, you are a L'Oreal Girl, okay? You're worth it, too.) So when the rebel army makes Wesley their general, it really means something. These people who have never met the ex-Watcher, ex-Rogue Demon Hunter, are able to recognize just how brave and smart he really is. That is, I think, the reassurance Wesley needs to really grow in the following seasons.
This arc also gives me one of my favorite Wesley quotes of all time: "You try not to get anybody killed, you wind up getting everybody killed." Actually, now that I think about it, it's also particularly wonderful that he says this to Gunn, who kind of needed to hear that. Gunn can't save all of his old crew, and if he tried, he'd wind up letting them all down. The best thing he can do now is to keep fighting the good fight--for him, that used to mean keeping the streets vamp-free, and now that means saving the world. The difference is, now the Fang Gang needs him more than his old crew. The Fang Gang needs both of them. Wesley's pragmatism about warfare plus his beautiful bromance with Gunn equals one very, very happy Taylor.
There is a lot that I could say about Fred, but I think for now, there isn't much more to her character than some Emotional Trauma, a love of tacos, and a brain the size of Jupiter. This arc effectively serves as the beginning of her story, and I'll leave it at that. When I get to "Fredless," I'll launch into a more in-depth analysis of what happened to her in Pylea and what that means for her character. Right now I just want to finally talk about--
Angel. Oh, Angel. I think in order to do his characterization in this arc justice, I'm going to need to start way back at the beginning, in the opening scene of "Belonging." We see Cordelia, Wes, and Gunn eating dinner in a fancy restaurant, and it takes a while for us to realize that we're looking at the Gang reflected in a mirror--all but, of course, Angel, who has no reflection. We then move into an adorable conversation in which Angel talks about Cordelia's expensive sashimi appetizer, saying, "I'm not cheap, I…I'm just old." You old fogey, you. But I digress. The important thing here is that this four-episode arc begins with a mirror in which Angel has no reflection. In a world that does not reflect him.
In Pylea, of course, Angel does have a reflection. Angel's reflection has it's own freaking story arc within the larger narrative, okay. Angel's reflection in Pylea is what I like to call a "metaphor," but before we get there, I want to talk about something really important that Lorne says. In an attempt to convince Angel that his home dimension is hell, he says, "Talk about screwed up values. A world of only good and evil, black and white, no gray. No music, no art, just champions roaming the countryside, fighting for justice." I'M SORRY LORNE, HAVE YOU MET ANGEL. PLEASE PAUSE FOR A MOMENT WHILE HE WIPES THE DROOL OFF HIS SINFUL PAST I MEAN FACE.
Angel is not just a hero on the path to redemption. Angel isn't all about the good fight. He's all about the Good Fight. Angel truly believes that he can only attain redemption through honor (see: Shanshu), and the Pylea arc, as much as I'd like to say it was just a product of Joss & co. hanging in that Really Important Screenwriters' Drunk Room of Good Ideas, probably is just a drawn out metaphor for Angel's Big Damn Hero Complex (which will henceforth be referred to as the BDH Complex™). It's also a fascinating look into just how self-centered Angel is, and I'm not saying that Angel is vain. He's not narcissistic. He's quite the opposite, actually. Angel hates himself. He thinks that Everything Wrong In The World Is His Fault. When he looks into the mirror for the first time in 200 years (ahem, I mean 12 months, because human for a day that one time), the first thing he does is ask whether his hair is always like that. He's mesmerized with his own reflection, almost hypnotized, and he's finding flaws in his appearance. (In an episode titled "Through the Looking Glass," mind you.) SEE. IT'S A METAPHOR.
In a similar way, Pylea kind of serves as a reflection of everything Angel has ever wanted. He can walk around in the sunlight without catching on fire. He can see himself when he looks into the mirror. While Lorne is spat on by his mother, Angel is honored with fur robes and Numfar's hilarious dances, and the children in the village listen intently as he tells them stories of his heroic past. He slays the Drokkens, rides around on his horse with the damsel in distress, and challenges Groo to a fight to the death for Cordelia's honor (with a fucking three-pronged flaming torch of honor, I might add). But Pylea is not perfect. In Angel's dream world, the humans are slaves. There is no music, no art. The high priests threaten to put Cordelia to death as soon as she comshucks with the Groosalugg. Angel has a long way to come as a character, and I don't think during the course of this entire show we see Angel grow out of the BDH Complex (hello, NFA, I'm looking at you).
This is who Angel is. And this is why I love Pylea.
(This has been a 2,100+ word essay on a few episodes of television, and I was holding back. See you next time. Good Lord.)