Was he off whoring with vampires? Yes, maybe; he was trying to understand what it was in Buffy that was so compelled by the darkness and the need. But compare this to, say, killing everyone in sight for the sheer fun of it—all arguments of soul or no soul aside—and I think he still comes out on top. Because in the end, he’s still dedicated to saving the world. He’s not lost in the insecurities and the clinging of the strictly emotional life: he’s moved on, found his place, found his calling. Did he come to Buffy to rub her face in it? No. He came because he trusted her, respected her ability, and needed help in something that he considered a mutual goal.
Of the three boyfriends to date, Riley Finn is the one most worthy of respect.
Let me offer a quote from Patricia McKillip’s excellent Forgotten Beasts of Eld, not just to be literarily pretentious, but because it’s so true: “I am a child because I did not care what either of you did, only that I loved you.”
A child’s love is undiscerning. Adult love is not. Unconditional love is something that every child wants—and often unreasonably so. Most adolescents want it as well, although they call it something different. They want to be special. They want to feel special. And if someone who can’t give the time of day to anyone without kicking their shins somehow doesn’t kick yours, you often do feel more valuable. The idea that they’ll one day be kicking your shins when the novelty wears off is counter-romantic, and doesn’t bear thinking about. So it’s often either unacknowledged or unconsidered.
Riley Finn was the type of person whom you could go home to at the end of the day. Where Angel was willing to let Buffy face the Harvest alone after their very first meeting, Riley would not.
Riley tried to communicate. He tried to talk. He tried to figure out a way to make things better. He was willing to compromise.
Live with Angel? Mr. pouty? Arg. Live with Spike, Mr. I Know What You Like, Come Live In The Depths Of Self-indulgent Despair With Me Because You Don’t Deserve Any Better? Arg. Live with someone who respects you and treats you well and is decent enough to help other people, gosh, even strangers, and also has a job? Boring.
I gnash my teeth.
Whether or not this makes good television is not the nature of this discussion, although perhaps it should be; let me get to that now.
I think that more people would have accepted Riley with less open hostility had there not been so much visible sex. Tara and Willow, for obvious reasons, were handled with so much more class and subtlety; much was left to our imagination, and perhaps, conservatives that we often are, this appealed to us. The very little left to our imaginations in the Buffy/Riley bedfests were probably mandated by television censors.
Riley, outsider, pushed aside the Scooby siblings, splintering the group onscreen, and arguably depriving some of the cohort of their screen time. This is entirely realistic, but again, breeds hostility.
James Marsters once said in a interview that to get screen time you either had to be kissing Buffy or kicking her butt. Riley was chosen as the kisser—but the screen time shared was Buffy’s; he didn’t diminish what others had, because he had become the focus of her life at that time.
When Spike took his place, this was considered interesting, daring, innovative, dark. That there were whole episodes with very little of the rest of the Scoobies was hardly decried at all.
But Riley was an outsider. He was normal. He was well-adjusted. He was Mr. Clean. All the little endearing neuroses that defined Willow or Xander, or even the laconic Oz, were missing, as was the more comedic, over-the-top venom of Cordelia.
It occurs to me that I’ve implied that teenagers all loved Angel and Spike, and that older people liked Riley—and this is just plain wrong. There were quiet teenagers who did like Riley quite a bit, and vocal adults who hated the very sight of him. Experience strikes and changes us at different times and with different imperatives.
Would you rather fantasize about Spike? Probably.
But what I liked best about Buffy is her struggle to find and hold a moral compass in a world that had so much danger and so little belief for her. I liked best that fact that the early seasons of the show did not verge into the angst and the soap opera of so much television drama. Look at “Prophecy Girl” (1-12), one of my all-time favorite episodes. In it, Buffy is finally forced to acknowledge Xander’s huge crush, and her rejection is short, honest, and uncomfortable; his graceless acceptance of it is also short, honest, and uncomfortable. Whedon’s humor was evident throughout—and a clear signal that the humor came from pain. But everything about that situation was believable, and none of it was self-indulgent.
Spuffy—as Spike/Buffy are often called—changed all that.
Riley Finn didn’t. And had the writers carried through, above the thunder and din of unhappy fandom, I think it would have made a stronger statement and offered a stronger vision for the inevitable change from the rebel who fights just beneath the radar of authority to the woman who must become it if she’s to survive.
Riley, you’re missed.
Michelle Sagara West was born in 1963 and lives in Toronto. She was a finalist twice for the John W. Campbell Memorial Award for the Best New Writer in 1991 and 1992. Michelle has since published numerous fantasy novels consisting of the Book of the Sundered series (five titles), The Sacred Hunt series (five titles) and The Sun Sword trilogy. Her latest book is volume three in The Sun Sword trilogy and is called The Shining Court.
Justine Larbalestier
A BUFFY CONFESSION
I love this essay. I can relate to Justine Larbalestier as she loses her scholarly detachment to become obsessed with a television show that so many dismiss as teen silliness. I can relate to her frustration and defensiveness with fans who insist on being critical (“Don’t they want to enjoy the show?”) and her joy in the creation of Buffy festivals of every stripe. Most of all, I can relate to her overwhelming fear that the next show, or the next season, would be terrible, and that the magic of Buffy would end . . . a fear that’s built over the years to the point that the announcement of the series’ end was almost a relief.
I AM A BUFFY TRAGIC. I have been an avid follower and, of late, scholar of Buffy the Vampire Slayer since the first season. It’s the first television show I’ve ever been obsessed with, the first time I’ve found myself in the role of a fan. A particularly strange shift for me because I’ve spent a large part of my scholarly career writing about fans without actually being one. Now I am. I watch the show. A lot. I read and write about it online, in magazines, fanzines, journals, books. I’ve lectured about it. I’ve been interviewed about it for Australian TV, radio, and print media.
There’s a long list of reasons why so many people love Buffy. Reasons that have been given by fans and scholars and reviewers and others consuming vast tracks of the Internet and print in the form of articles and reviews, poems and stories. Buffy the Vampire Slayer captured me in the first place because it was a genre TV show that took the rules of the genre seriously, understood them, was metaphorically resonate, cared about continuity and consistency, engaged in fabulous world-building, was intelligently written and acted, and had a sassy self-awareness that was not sly or annoying. It is both funny and sad, often at the same time.
My obsession involves watching the show repeatedly, devouring DVD and other commentary by the writers, particularly Joss Whedon, and thinking long and hard about the show. This intense engagement with a set of interlocked texts as complex and as well-executed as Buffy is extraordinarily pleasurable.
My increasing obsession and professional engagement with Buffy has found me frequently called upon to defend the show. Not to the large unwashed hordes out there who will never watch or understand the show (and frankly, who cares about them?) but to other Buffy fans. Ever since the fourth season, when Buffy and the Scoobies left Sunnydale High behind, there has been a vehement rain of Buffy fan backlash.
Like relationships with other human beings, fan relationships with TV shows sometimes thrive on a mix of
love and hatred, none more so than Buffy. For the past few seasons, my role of defender has meant I haven’t always admitted to my own dissatisfactions with Buffy. I love Buffy the Vampire Slayer more than I’ve ever loved a TV show (hell, more than quite a few people in my life) but there are times when I hate it too.
DEFENDING BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
. . . I read occasionally that people haven’t been as happy with this year (actually, I hear that every year), show’s not the same . . .
Posted by: Joss Whedon May 22, 2002, 2:15 A.M. UPN.com linear board, www.cise.ufl.edu/~hsiao/media/tv/buffy/bronze/upn/20020522.html
I loathe defending Buffy to other fans. I feel like I’m defending a close relative. I want to tell them, “If you can’t say anything nice, then shut up.” I am not rational about it. While defending the show I will say anything, no matter how illogical. I will frequently contradict myself. I don’t care. If a particular writer is attacked I will dredge the record for good episodes or lines they’ve written. I will airily wave aside complaints about plot holes as a clever play with the tropes of the genre. I’ll make stuff up: “That was not a crap line. It was a direct reference to Cansino’s last film, The Widow in the Shadows, made for RKO just before he was blacklisted. Had a limited release in 1962. Nope, not available on DVD. Though apparently there’s a French bootleg video.”
I cannot stand fans being so narkily and pickily critical of the show. Don’t they understand how tight the TV-land budget of time and money is? Don’t they understand that certain actors aren’t always available? Don’t they want to enjoy the show? Anyway, why does everything have to be about whether each episode or season was good or not? Don’t they realize that you can’t possibly decide that until you’ve watched it at least five or more (often way more) times? I wish they would embrace proper criticism, that mystical process whereby you can write thousands of words about the object you dissect without once revealing whether you like it or not.
Of course, I also can’t stand fans who (like myself) defend Buffy against all criticism no matter how just. Or who like it for the wrong reasons. The show is not perfect. There have been bad episodes. I know that. I just can’t stand to hear others say it.
The first murmurs of “They’ve lost it” and “Buffy’s going down the toilet” began with Angel’s return at the beginning of season three. He was dead. How could they bring him back? What a cheap gimmick. Like some trashy afternoon soap opera. When a character’s dead they should stay dead. (Hmmm, I pointed out, you mean like Buffy’s death in “Prophecy Girl,” 1-12?) His return from Hell, the critics muttered, undermines the tragic arc of the second season. Of course, by the end there was far less murmuring about bringing Angel back, and many fans now believe season three is the best ever.
Buffy had been criticized by fans before, but only for less-than-great episodes. “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” (1-11), “Bad Eggs” (2-12), and “Beauty and the Beasts” (3-4) had all been slammed, but season four was the first time a sizeable number were trashing a whole season. What was it about season four? I have friends who say it was Angel’s departure. These same people prefer Angel to Buffy. As they are clearly insane, I’ll discount them. (They also think “Once More, With Feeling,” 6-7, is the worst Buffy episode ever, so you can rest easy with my dismissal of their opinions.)
Most of the criticism boiled down to unhappiness with the Scoobies leaving high school. The show, many said, just doesn’t work once the central literalized metaphor—high school is hell—is lost. When the Scoobies are in college or working various odd jobs, or unemployed, there’s no easy overarching metaphor that binds the show together. Being a young adult, trying to find yourself; life after high school is more complex. But it does resonate. The Scoobies’ search for adult lives and adult identities is certainly more emotionally real than any number of so-called realist shows about everyday life, such as thirtysomething.
Another criticism aimed at season four is its preponderance of arc episodes. I have a friend who is convinced that more arc episodes than stand-alone means that a show is “decadent.” Buffy, he says, has been irretrievably decadent since that dreaded fourth season. The references to previous incidents, once clever and witty, now overwhelm the show, making it an indulgent exercise playing to the in-crowd. Buffy is so dependent on internal references, this friend maintains, that it is now a soap opera.
I disagree. Strongly. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe it is a soap opera, but one screened in prime time with brilliant writing, fabulous acting, and far less than sixty pages of script filmed a day.
Some other criticisms of the show I’ve had to deal with:
None of Buffy’s lovers since Angel have been worthy of her. He was her one true love. My response is to try not to roll my eyes. Angel is, in fact, my least favorite of Buffy’s partners. Even Riley is better (despite the writers apparently not knowing how dodgy it is for a T. A. to sleep with one of his freshman students). Their relationship was particularly interesting toward the end, when Riley’s doing the whole vampire drug/sex thing. Ah, sweet tragedy. Buffy mooning after the wooden Angel was tedious, overdone (a big uggh to their theme music), and lasted way too long. It only became interesting after he became Angelus. The more compelling (with way better dialogue) season two relationships were between Spike and Drusilla and Cordelia and Xander.
They’ve neutered Spike. He hasn’t been a decent character since season two. Oh, how many ways can I disagree with this one? I love Spike with a chip. I love Spike with a soul. I adore him tragically in love with Buffy. “Fool for Love” (5-7) gives every Spike episode an extra layer—oh the fun of looking for William (I-may-be-a-bad-poet-but-I’m-a-good-man) in badass Spike.
All the villains have sucked ever since the Mayor was toasted. Why does no one remember how lame the Master was? Worst villain ever. (And unfortunately he had the same name as the villain in Doctor Who, who was way less lame.) The Initiative was a great idea. Glory is underrated. The Trio was mostly silly but had many interesting moments.
The writing has just gotten worse and worse (also known as the why-can’t-Joss-write-every-episode complaint). There are just as many shithouse, badly written episodes in the early seasons. “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” (1-10), anyone? Or “Inca Mummy Girl” (2-4)? (Can’t help with the Joss complaint. I wish Joss wrote and directed every episode too, although with the proviso that I don’t think every episode he writes on his own is pure gold. “Lie To Me” 2-7, “Anne” 3-1 and “Family” 5-6 are nowhere near the level of “Prophecy Girl” 1-12 or “The Body” 5-16. One episode Whedon co-wrote is amongst the worst Buffy episodes ever: the aforementioned “Out of Mind, Out of Sight.”)
Season four was going to be hated even before it first aired. Buffy tragics (like me) sat down to watch the first broadcast of “The Freshman” (4-1) with a great deal of fear in their hearts. Would the show be as good as it used to be? Is it all over? That fan fear has remained. Can the best TV show of all time stay good after so many seasons? Every episode is watched with an eye for evidence of decline. And every Buffy fan I know has turned to me to prove to them that the end isn’t pretty seriously nigh.
The fear is in my heart, too. In my position as defender of Buffy to the once faithful, I watch each new episode with mounting terror. Is it a crap episode? Is it a crap season? Should I be heckling along with everybody else? Is Buffy’s inability to kill Spike a sign of decadence? Is Willow’s evil turn amateurishly handled, and her recovery even more so? Are they lamely recycling villains? Am I ever going to be able to watch a new episode of the show and simply enjoy it?
BUFFY MINI-FESTIVALS,
OR HOW DVDS SAVED MY LIFE
No, I will never again enjoy an episode the first time through. I’m too nervous, too absorbed with anticipating criticisms and how to respond to them. I’m not capable of enjoying an episode until I’ve watched it several times. And it doesn’t become pure pleasure until the DVD set comes out and I’ve watched said episode in the context of the whole season
(including all the writer/director commentaries) in the space of two or three Buffy-packed days.
Oh the glories of DVDs. Episodes that I hated when I first saw them are transformed. “Ted” (2-11) turns out to be a chillingly good episode, not the dreaded movie-of-the-week number I remembered. Even less-than-great episodes like “Some Assembly Required” (2-2) with its spectacularly lame plot—boy reanimates dead sports hero brother (with his high-school-science know-how) and then builds him a mate out of spare dead-girl parts—turns out to have wonderful arc development and priceless exchanges between the Scoobies. It’s a rare episode that doesn’t have at least a moment of fabulous dialogue or a gorgeous setup for events a season or more later.
Joss Whedon’s commentary over “The Body” (5-16) confirms every worshipful thought you have ever indulged about the guy’s writing and his attitude to making the show. The creators think about what they’re doing:
JOSS WHEDON: “Buffy” is made by a bunch of writers who think very, very hard about what they are doing in terms of psychology and methodology. We take the show very seriously. We are perhaps the most pompous geeks of them all. When somebody says there is a philosophy behind “Buffy” that is the truth. When they say there is symbolism and meaning in what we’re doing, that’s true too. (Joss Whedon AOL Chat, 10 November 2002 www.geocities.com/soporjoe77/josschat.html)
Although watching a whole season back-to-back is excellent, there are stomach-tightening moments when horrible suspicions about a given episode or story arc are confirmed. Yep, it is as bad as I feared. But there is a solution—a beautiful one, which has salved the wounds suffered while watching and defending Buffy. I create my own Buffy mini-festivals! I recommend it as the very best way to ensure your Buffy viewing is stress- and anxiety-free.
Seven Seasons of Buffy: Science Fiction and Fantasy Authors Discuss Their Favorite Television Show (Smart Pop series) Page 10