A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "The Left Hand"

I'm kind of depressed about how long it has taken to write this review, partially because after Hulu kept crapping out during the episode I broke down and bought it for 3.99 on iTunes. Of course, I now have one of my favorite scenes ever on my iPod constantly, so maybe it's all a wash in the end.

So, I'm going to do something I've been avoiding since this Healthcare debate thingy started in Congress, and that is talk about the state of Healthcare and those Congresspeople making the laws. Because Joss Whedon told me to. Seriously. Don't believe me? I offer Evidence A (which is actually from The Public Eye):

No one is saying the work these corporations do isn't vital, but there must be accountability. The health of our citizens cannot be held hostage to a profit motive.

Sounds like some healthcare angst to me. Evidence B is the fact Perrin is a man made and supported by the very industries he is supposed to be going after. Say, that's kind of like my own state senator, a Mr. Joe Lieberman! Who is a guy I voted for, in part because he campaigned in 2006 on the promise of fighting for a Public Option! Which, in turn, has made me into the schmuck of my immediate family! Who, of the two other members who are legal voting age, voted for Ned Lamont! Damn Lieberman! Oh, this also goes for a whole bunch of other people in Congress. Perrin, who is very much a demonstration of false consciousness, is used to validate and prop up the very industries that are going to bring about the end of civilization, Epitaph One style. Which, in turn, makes me think those Whedony people are probably pretty pissed and concerned with the way the Healthcare fight is going. Also, kind of like they think our elected officials are bought and paid for by Big Corporations, which is also the tale of today's Non Sequitur. There's probably a lot more to say about this issue and Dollhouse's handling of it, but I'm going to move on, now.

To Cindy Perrin. Who kind of gets the bad end of every stick. I know I'm not supposed to sympathize with someone who is clearly not on the Moral Train, but Cindy does stir something in me resembling empathy. And that is because she is pretty much in the exact same position as the Dolls, except she doesn't have the benefit of being a True Believer. She is used as just another object for the Dollhouse's purposes. And she is trapped by her role as a wife:

I can't stand you. Having to be your wife, letting you touch me, pretending that when it doesn't disgust me, it doesn't bore me? That has been really hard.

She is being forced to have sex with a man she does not love, forced to allow someone she doesn't even like, to touch her. And while I think her anger and hatred is more than a bit misguided - it isn't Perrin's fault, after all - it is also entirely realistic to rail against the person trapped with you in this type of farce than the nameless, faceless decision-makers that put you both there. And then, she dies. Cindy Perrin's situation just drives further home the idea that the Dollhouse - and Rossum - don't actually see people, merely opportunities to do what is best for their own self-interest. Which is, actually, yet another arm of the "corporations are soulless and need to be controlled for our own good" argument the entire show seems to be making.

What I really want to discuss, though, is the geekiest love affair known to man, and that is the mutual lovefest between Bennett Halverson and Topher Brink. Mostly for this:

BENNETT: How do you work it? The disrupter?

TOPHER: How'd you know it was called that?

BENNETT: What else would you call it?

TOPHER: A signal goes out for 50 feet, but everywhere. That's what messed up your senator and ruined your evil plan.

BENNETT: If you route the signal through here, it becomes directional. Not like a bomb. More like a taser.

TOPHER: Huh! (Tries To Tase Bennett) Huh.

BENNETT: Did - did you just try to tase me?

TOPHER: No? No, No! That would result in - you'd be unconscious. Why would I want that?

BENNETT: And it only works on Actives. I'm concerned that you may have just tried to tase me.

If only there were more times in life when one could say, "I'm concerned that you may have just tried to tase me". But it is their geekitude, their giddiness when bouncing ideas off one another, and their ultimate betrayal of each other - Topher by stealing Perrin's brain scan, Bennett by trying to kill Echo - that truly makes the episode for me. Well, them and:

VICTOR-TOPHER: What you're not getting, man-friend, is that this whole operation is dependent upon me. Not, uh, brain-constructy me, but "Bond, James Bond" me. Which is, not so me.

BOYD: Vic-Topher. All you hae to do is stay calm.

VICTOR-TOPHER: This from the guy who had to dismember my last little outing?!

Whedon has done the one person in two bodies before with Xander Harris on Buffy, being played by Nicholas Brendon (who was normally Xander) and his twin brother (who normally was not). This was better. Giving Enver Gjokaj opportunity upon opportunity to shine makes Dollhouse an incredible actor's vehicle - just not the actor it was designed for. Gjokaj's ability to go beyond mimicry, to actually embody the character created by another actor, is incredible. I was beyond impressed when he became Dominic last season. His Topher was even more superb, possibly because Topher is a exaggerated character to begin with. The concept could have become a gross parody of itself, but instead it was both masterfully written and acted. It was fun and self-aware and perfect, for the show and for the two actors. And my favorite moments were their interactions, possibly because two Tophers are always going to be better than one in my world.

But, again, it is Topher-Topher who truly makes the episode for me. From his:

I'm just here for Echo. My last ethical quandary was... unhelpful.

to his:

This isn't about Caroline! This is about Echo!

to his:

It wouldn't be a second opinion! It would be the same opinion twice!

It is Topher's emerging and continuing humanity that keeps me engaged. It is his continuing moral development that makes him still profoundly interesting. The fact that both he and Victor-Topher are still so focused on his last "ethical quandary" makes him a person with real regret and remorse. The fact that he sees Echo as a distinct person, as a friend separate from Caroline, makes him someone for whom the Dolls are becoming more and more, as themselves, actual people. And then there is the continuation of the idea he first expressed in the season opener to Whiskey/Saunders. What Topher is concerned about intellectually isn't so much having someone who agrees with him, who thinks like him and who will come to the same conclusions he has, but someone who will be able to see where he is blind. The fact that he doesn't want himself around for help analyzing Perrin's brain map could just be an ego thing, until it is related back to the idea that he is terrified he is going to miss something, and that someone will get hurt.

And yet, the most important part of the episode may be something Bennett herself was blinded to. She tells Topher:

I have a theory that the human brain can hold multiple imprints and still function... ...Not a composite. Something new.

This is what Echo is. This is what Echo develops into. This is what Bennett herself doesn't see when she at first tells Echo, and then Topher, that Echo is merely a shell - and at the same time Caroline. Topher seems to have a better handle on the fact that the person Echo is now is separate from who Caroline was, but the implications of that statement are far-reaching. What it does is offer a bit of hope for humanity even as it explains Echo's own existence. It offers up a new kind of humanity, after we have been ravaged by the world of Epitaph One. It is the series' optimistic rallying cry, that all is not lost. And, it creates a whole host of coolness we'll never have a chance to see fully examined.

We do see it examined partially, though, through the experiences of the escaped Perrin and Echo:

PERRIN: Even if I could, I don't know if I want to be the man I was before.

ECHO: I understand.

PERRIN: You do, don't you?

ECHO: I'm afraid of Caroline. If she comes back, where do I go? I don't want to fall asleep, even for a little while.

Echo is probably afraid of Caroline at least in part because she saw what Caroline did to Bennett, but the underlying fear that coursed through Whiskey/Saunders is also present here. These are people, and they exist. But the bodies they exist in are not, strictly speaking, theirs. And what we see through Perrin and Echo is this desire to continue to live on, to not disappear into the night. And it makes Echo into what she needs to be, a character in her own right and not just a placeholder for a person we have yet to truly and deeply meet. It creates just that one more level of moral and emotional conflict. And that, along with the fun, makes The Left Hand possibly my favorite episode of Dollhouse.

Grade: A+

Quotes of the Episode:

VICTOR-TOPHER: She's going to look at my 1.0, and she'll know!

BOYD: I have to track down Ballard. You just run the house and wait for yourself to call.

TOPHER: I poo you not!

BENNETT: I'm concerned that you may have just tried to tase me.

BENNETT: You hacked into my system. Stole Perrin's brain map.

TOPHER: You're trying to kill Echo!

BENNETT: So we're even?

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "The Public Eye"

CINDY: Remind me why I love you so much.
PERRIN: I'm your white knight.
CINDY: And I'm your beautiful damsel.
PERRIN: Ever after.

Whoa. Whoa! Dollhouse, how I've missed you!

First, I have to alert everyone that I did not see the Perrin reveal coming and merely thought Whedon had decided to play against trope simply by letting us in on the secret of Cindy being the Doll instead of having a Mellie/Angel(us) situation overtake us and giving me a heart attack in the midst of that process. This led to me going, "Oh, Daniel, you're going to be soooo surprised when you find out your wife is a --- HOLY MOTHER OF GOD YOU'RE TOTALLY A DOLL!!!!!!!!!"

That was pretty much my reaction exactly. Luckily, as the Monk series finale was going to be on at 9 and I didn't feel like switching televisions mid-stream, I was alone with my outburst.

Now, let's unpack that one interaction, the one that happens multiple times over the course of the episode(s). Whoa!!! Dollhouse is totally calling out the prince-princess phenom! I'm totally going to try to limit my use of the word "totally" (that may or may not happen)! Let's discuss. Perrin is, literally, a made man. He is, literally, imbued with a cultural mindset regarding princes and princesses and happily ever afters. He is, well, us. All of us. All of us Disney-lovin' folk out here. He is existing within the false consciousness of traditional gender norms, as exemplified by the prince-princess meme! Whoa, I say!

This may be where I should note that at the age of 18 or so, I was completely against the idea of false consciousness in philosophical terms. My mind is my mind, right? What I'm thinking, I decide to think. My thoughts are my own, my feelings are my own, and I am totes an individual. Yeah, not so much with that mindset any more, and I love Dollhouse for exploring that same "awakening", that same idea that we all think we are masters of our own destiny and space - and how we are more than influenced by the world in which we live in. Dollhouse takes it a bit further, what with the whole "actually wiping people's brains and making them other people" thing, but the premise is still the same. And right here, we have the constructed romance portion of our journey; plus, it really highlights how much the White Knight construct has played a part in the journey of various characters thus far. But there's another side to this construct too, and that is the paternalistic nature of this philosophical theory (and, in fact, one of the reasons I railed against it at first):

MADELINE: I almost wish I hadn't seen it. But then I wouldn't be here. And there are still people being held captive by the Dollhouse. They don't even know they need help. So, that means we have to help.

In the world of the Dollhouse, it is easy to see Madeline as someone who once was blind but now sees, just as it is easy to see Echo in that role. It is easy to see how all of the other Dolls - Victor, Sierra, Kilo, etc. - really don't know they need help and who need outside forces to come and rescue them; to open their eyes to the fact they are being used and manipulated and are trapped in the Cave, staring at shadows on a wall. But the question immediately becomes, "Who are you, to tell me I am blind and you can see?" And that question is hard to answer; it is hard to answer because all are blind. Madeline is not free, no matter how much she believes it or Ballard wishes it. She still contains the underlying architecture of a Doll; she is still not truly an actor of her own free will. She is still one who doesn't see the whole picture. As is Perrin; he is a True Believer; he sees himself as that White Knight, that guy who will ride in and rescue the Dolls and lead them back to their true selves. He will be the one to show the world the evils of the Rossum Corporation. But he is not free; he is one who is also being held captive by the Dollhouse, one who doesn't even know he needs help. And so, Dollhouse the show both demonstrates the idea of false consciousness and questions, seriously questions, our ability to find a White Knight who will lead us out of such a situation. Because the White Knight, whomever he or she may be, is just as ensnared as ourselves, except perhaps in a different way. As Ballard says, "Nobody ever really leaves here, do they?" None of us are free of the Dollhouse.

And then there's this:

PERRIN: Listen to me. You've been manipulated. You were probably desperate and alone, and they used that against you. Forced you to be a slave so the wealthy can have a play toy. It's despicable.
...
...
BREE: Look, you're very sweet, but you should know - I like what I do. You're not the first john who thinks he can save me.

If Bree really was Bree and not Echo, she could very well be right. That is the problem with a paternalistic approach to an issue. Even if 9 out of 10 people in Bree's exact situation would possibly want to be saved, there is always that 10th Brie out there making an informed decision, and who is in a position she, to the best of her ability, chooses to be in. This obviously goes for sex workers. But it also goes for other things. Paternalism, because it is based in the belief that the actor knows better than the acted upon, limits the ability for the acted upon to say, "Hey, not me! Go save those people over there. I know what I'm doing." And paternalism, the "poor souls" aspect of it, is what offers the justification for the Westernization of nations who were probably doing okay before Europeans or Americans decided to come in, "civilize" the nation, and take as payment a whole host of natural resources. So, is Dollhouse saying we should ignore people's own wishes and instead work off the premise that everyone who doesn't think like us is obviously hideously deluded? I think, no. And I think that, because the show has been rather clear about the absence of White Knights and of the fallibility of those who hold themselves up as saviors. I think that, because of Perrin's reaction to when he discovered he himself was a Doll. And, I think that because of DeWitt's reading of the situation:

With Perrin under his power, Harding controls how far the damage goes. The Senate Subcommittee will clear Rossum of any contact with us. And Perrin will be hailed as the conquering hero who's rescued all these poor souls. He'll have the political capital to pass whatever laws and regulations Rossum's programmed him to.

One where altruistic White Knight impulses are really hiding something much less about saving the victims and much more about profiting. With that, it becomes somewhat more clear that there is no easy "I know best" answer to this question.

Onto Topher, who is, of course, my favorite. This week, what makes him my favorite comes mostly in the second part of this two-part episode extravaganza, but he still has moments of note here in the first act. Most notably,

It'll knock out any Doll in a ten-foot radius, including a pesky Sleeper like Cindy, without actually harming real people like us.

Which is a bit of privilege harboring there that is still present in Epitaph One, the idea that there are real people, Actuals, and then there are fake people, those people who have had the misfortune of becoming a Doll - or a victim of errant and randomized Doll-making technology. And it is troubling. We know he listens to Echo and worked to protect Sierra when she was in trouble. We know that he has referred to the Dolls as people in the past. But are these (Sierra, Echo) flukes, the "I have a friend who's a Doll" of Topher's life that allows him to think he thinks of Dolls as people because he interacts a few that he does see as people? Or does he actually see Dolls, as a whole, as "real people", and this bit of "real people" is just a bit of unconscious "I haven't had my architecture Activized" privilege seeping through? I tend to think it is more of Column A than Column B, and that is partially why I like Topher. He's a person, and he has prejudices and biases, and one of the interesting aspects of Dollhouse is watching Topher evolve.

Now, for some issues.

ECHO: She's not right.
TOPHER: We got that the first time, Echo.
BALLARD: She doesn't mean Madeline.

Why does no one see this, that Echo can sense or tell or reason out in just a glance when people aren't right, as a problem? Isn't that bizarre? Shouldn't they all be going, "oooo"? But no. These three guys just accept that Echo can do this, and go on their merry way working on the assumption she's right. Which is good, because she kind of is. But it is bad, because (a) they didn't ask her to elaborate ("Not right, how?" would have been my first question), and (b) obviously the wheels on the controlling-Echo train have come completely off. I guess I can explain this one away by it being Ballard and Boyd and Topher, with one person who knows exactly how much Echo is evolving, one person who is aware Echo is evolving, and one person who considers Echo a friend and because of that seems to accept Echo's evolution implicitly - but it still seems like something that should generate some sort of pause for one of them.

Also, why are there books around for the Dolls to find and read? I mean, really. If you don't want your Dolls to start developing, why put around things that will help them develop? If you don't think your Dolls will ever be able to retain, why shove something out there into their world that requires retaining?

I have to geek out about a few things as well. First, the fight between Cindy Perrin and Echo-Bree. It was pretty cool how the scene kept jumping to previous instances of people attacking Echo, and to see her respond.

But foremost is this: Summer-freakin'-Glau. Summer Glau is one of my favorite Whedon-actors; that is, she is among my favorites who have been in various Whedon projects. Alan Tudyk is up there as well, but I think Glau is number one on the list. I'm so happy to see her. And I love Bennett, in that weird "I really shouldn't but I do" way.

Grade: A

Quotes of the Episode:

ECHO: I'm on your team!
PERRIN: I love her.
ECHO: I know. (Hits Perrin) But I don't have that problem.

PERRIN: You want to take me to them? They're all bad guys, Bree!
ECHO: I think her bad guys are badder than my bad guys!

BENNETT: I assumed we'd fill him with travel memories - a layover in Milwaukee, some turbulence. And something to explain any dehydration or disorientation. Bad shrimp or... or a film with a dog.

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "Belonging"

This episode could have been subtitled "What Makes the Nice Guys® So Dangerously Evil". And it was good. The angst, the origin story, the societal implications of demonstrating the horribleness of Nolan, Topher - it was all so good. And, I think it may have had a little something to do with the lack of Echo and the abso-fucking -lutely brilliant performances by Fran Kranz, Enver Gjokaj (of course!), and last but certainly nowhere near least, Dichen Lachman. Oh man. Sierra rocked.

But, since I consistently end with Topher, I'm going to start with him this week. What makes Topher so fascinating is that we are watching him "wake up". We are watching him make up his own moral system. More than watching those figures with compromised morality - Adelle, Boyd, Ballard - or watching those with an established morality - Echo - watching Topher evolve is a brilliant thing. That is partially because there are so few chances to actually watch someone come to morality. Usually, people we watch on television start with a moral code: they falter, they fall, their code shifts to encapsulate new data. But there has always been a code there. Topher has generally been proud of his lack of code, and was able to maintain that lack of code by a lack of contact. He could think of the Dolls as "hot chicks" or "toys". But once contact has been established, once he is pulled from being Science Guy, following orders to the person who has to think and explore and establish right and wrong for the people under his care, Topher runs right smack into morality. And he runs into seeing the Dolls as people, not simply as objects. When he tells Boyd Echo is the one who brought him the painting, tells Boyd that Echo has always been "mother hen" to Sierra, and Boyd asks pointedly if that is something Topher should look into, it flies right past. Because Topher is no longer thinking of Echo as a thing to be fixed but a person with reasons for acting. He is no longer thinking of Sierra as a potentially malfunctioning Doll but as a person with a problem - a problem he is complicit in continuing and one he is determined to solve.

Topher is as asleep as the Dolls wandering the halls. Topher is as able to "wake up" as the Dolls wandering the halls. And Adele's House mostly depends on both Topher and the Dolls not doing that. It isn't like this House is particularly free of the trials and tribulations of compromised engagements, mostly stemming from Echo. But it most definitely depends on the Dolls not evolving into self-aware entities, or Topher getting ooky about sending these people he now sees as people out on engagements. And Topher is getting ooky specifically because there is no one there to play that ooked out role for him now that Dr. Saunders/Whiskey has exited the building. In her, Topher created a safety net, a person who could have and act upon the moral code he lacked. He did it because, as he said, "If you agreed with everything I said, then we would miss something and someone would get hurt." But also, I think, because it allowed him to continue down his amoral path, unthinking of the consequences of his actions because he made sure someone else would be. The burden of being moral, of being vigilant, of caring, was placed on someone else's shoulders so that Topher wouldn't have to carry the load. With Saunders having now absconded with herself, Topher is alone with morally compromised people or immoral people. When he tries to reach out, to provoke some moral stance from one of his counterparts, he's not given what he needs. Instead, his lack of morality is met with the exact lack of judgement he doesn't need and can't work with or through:

TOPHER: You can't let them do this!
DEWITT: They're not going to do it. We are. And when I say we don't have a choice, know that I mean it.
TOPHER: Aren't we supposed to care for these people? Dr. Saunders would never have allowed...
DEWITT: Which Dr. Saunders would that be? (TOPHER RECOILS) The avuncular physician so brutally cut down not five feet from where you were standing? Or the last woman to whom you gave a permanent imprint? The other wounded flower you restored by offering her a new life? Who apparently found you so unbearable, she had to flee the city. Is it that one?
TOPHER: How can you expect me to do this?
ADELLE: You'll do it because you must. The cold reality is that everyone here was chosen because their morals have been compromised in some way. Everyone... except you. You, Topher, were chosen because you have no morals. You have always thought of people as playthings. This is not a judgement. You always take very good care of your toys. But you're simply going to have to let this one go.

And so he, rustily, having never done it before, starts to develop as the counterweight. And we all know (at least, those of us who watched Epitaph One) exactly how well that works out for him.

After attempting to prod Topher into looking further at Echo's problem-solving, art-interpreting, mother-henning tendencies in this hilarious scene (already discussed from the Topher Angle above):

BOYD: Is that where your hunch came from?
TOPHER: Yeah. It's Sierra's. Echo brought it to me. She was going on about a bad man. He's the blotch here, is what I'm getting.
BOYD: Echo brought it to you.
TOPHER: She's always been Mother Hen about Sierra.
BOYD: Should look into that.
TOPHER: I am! And so far, Echo's given me way more than you have.

Boyd decides to do some investigating himself. What he finds and how he reacts is one of the reasons I like Boyd, and yet don't trust Boyd. Boyd goes the same route of "If I don't do it, I am absolved" in the case of figuring out if the Dolls are beginning to evolve. Sending Topher after the intel wipes Boyd's hands clean if Topher comes back with an evaluation leading to a cleaning of Echo's slate or a more permanent home in the Attic. But if Boyd himself is forced to confront the reality of his former charge becoming more and more nascent, then his moral response shifts. He then responds with something more akin to protectiveness and solidarity, because he is forced to face the Echo he is protective of, the Echo he sees as a person, as extraordinary. Of course, I could be reading Boyd completely wrong and he could be the biggest backstabbing asshole in the world. It's up in the air at this point.

As for Echo, well, her lack of role in this episode made her brief moments kind of enjoyable. She had to do nothing other than be a semi-aware blank slate, so I'm sure that helped. But her evolution and her pushing others to evolve is actually - wait for it! - interesting.

BOYD: Echo, when did you learn how to lie?
ECHO: Am I in trouble?
BOYD: Not from me. But there are people who would be very upset if they knew what you were doing.
ECHO: Reading?
BOYD: You brought the painting to Topher. You're pushing. The Actives, the staff... What you're doing could have consequences you can't predict or control. Some people are not ready to wake up.
ECHO: I don't care. Something bad is coming, like a storm - and I want everyone to survive it. They need to wake up.

Maybe it is because Echo is treading upon familiar territory to Whedonites, the person (woman) pushing the story forward. It isn't exactly new ground, and yet it is familiarly comforting. It is where Whedon and his acolytes tend toward their most righteous, and I tend to agree with them. It is in the idea that we are all existing in Plato's cave, that we have to see the shadows for what they are and deal with the fact that the sun shining in our eyes hurts. Because the opposite is to remain chained to UnReality, and that leads to things like entire planets being decimated in the name of a Greater Good and creating monstrous cannibals or beautiful people being commodified in houses so the rich and powerful can pay to play in their own personal Utopian fantasies. And that? Isn't so great for the poor, unconnected individuals who have to live in that world with those forces.

And now, Sierra. A while ago, Emily at See Emily Blog wrote about George Sondini, and Kate Harding's No More Mr. Nice Guy article. Why am I bringing this up? Because one of the first scenes in Belonging is:

NOLAN: Sneaking out?
PRIYA: I was just looking for you to say goodbye.
NOLAN: Why are you so eager to leave? I mean, everyone is here to adore you.
PRIYA: Enjoy the painting, Nolan.
NOLAN: Come on, come on. Stay a little longer, Priya.
PRIYA: The painting's yours. My job here is done. I'm going now.
NOLAN: Why? So you can give it up to some guy you just met?
...
NOLAN: I've pulled out all the stops. I mean, this is our big night. We've, we've, we've -
PRIYA: No, this isn't our night.
NOLAN: We've planned for this.
PRIYA: There's no we.
NOLAN: No, look, I have - I've offered you everything. What else do you want?
PRIYA: I want to walk out the damn door.
NOLAN (stopping her from walking out the damn door): Hey. What did you expect, huh? Day after day, just dangling it in front of my face, seducing me.
PRIYA: Seducing? You're crazy, Nolan. It's all in your head. Get off me!
NOLAN: I'm sorry. I'm not going to take no for an answer. Alright? I'll do anything.
PRIYA: Stop it! You disgust me. Nothing in this world could ever make me love you.

And the tension I felt, sitting on my couch, just praying (figuratively, of course) Priya wouldn't be quite so wonderfully assertive, wouldn't be quite so open and honest with her very own Nice Guy®, stems from what Emily writes, namely

In the times I’ve been alone, I definitely don’t want to risk making the man angry, or having him come after me in any way. I’m sure few, if any, of these men were capable of violence, but it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, even if some of them deserved a firm “leave me alone right now.”

Being assertive, being unwilling to smile demurely and go along with the uncomfortable levels of attention and uncalled for expectations of ownership, sometimes takes a horrific turn. Not that every girl ends up pumped full of anti-psychotics and then mind-wiped and brain-washed, but the threat of violence, of retaliation and retribution for something you haven't done is very real. And it is there. And every time a guy goes to the equivalent of, "But I did X,Y, & Z, so why didn't she fall into my bed?" it demonstrates the idea that women can be bought, can be controlled, and can be persuaded to stay, to love, and to give a lot of sex to people they Just. Aren't. Attracted. To.

But what I like about this is, well, how clearly it lays out the whole Nice Guy® thing. Becoming makes it absolutely clear Nolan is someone who, actually, doesn't like women very much. And that's highlighted by the Confrontation Scene:

PRIYA: I'm not your lab rat any more, Nolan. I'm free, clear-headed. It feels good.
NOLAN: What, and you uh, came here to get revenge for a year of loving every minute of it?
PRIYA: Did I love it? Must not have been very memorable. I remember you poisoning me, locking me up, but I have not a single memory of the year where I apparently liked you.
NOLAN: Oh, we-we had some good times.
PRIYA: Mmm, I got filled in on all the details. Brainwashing. Talk about desperate. You know, they even programmed me to think it was endearing how quick you were.
NOLAN: You were mine.
PRIYA: I'm sorry. I don't think I was faithful to you.
NOLAN: Yeah, I let them whore you out to anyone.
PRIYA: No, it's something else. It's someone uh, someone I trust. He helps me. He thrills me
NOLAN: Yeah, I know, see, it worked. You told me that you love me a hundred times. I changed you.
PRIYA: No, it's not you. I managed to fall for someone else.
NOLAN: You think this is cute?
PRIYA: It's absurd. I don't remember meeting him or even spending a moment with him. But I can feel it stronger than anything. I'm crazy about him! I love him so much more than I hate you.

The vitriol Nolan spews at Priya when he says, "Yeah, I let them whore you out to anyone" is not the typical statement of someone who loves women, or even a specific woman. It is someone who thinks you can dirty a woman by making her have a lot of sex. It is someone who thinks that victimizing a woman somehow demeans and delegitimatizes her. It is someone who is very clearly not a nice guy; instead, he's just a guy who is willing to spend a lot of money on objects for someone he considers his own object. Kind of like buying outfits and accessories for your Build-A-Bear. He - and those Nice Guys® like him - fancy that they are bringing some pleasure to this person they want, that the pleasure they supply somehow gives them power and control over that person, and that if the person rejects the gifts or rejects the man after accepting the gifts, she has not followed protocol and deserves to be punished. Because, obviously, the very act of lusting after a woman means that she (a) intended you to, and (b) you have an implicit right to her - her attention and her body. That person? Is the epitome of not a nice guy. And watching Priya, being made to see the world and story through Priya, makes it clear exactly how not nice a guy, how creepy, that guy really is.

Things of Note:

• Dichen Lachman is incredible. Going from Priya to Wiped Sierra, there was palpable change on screen. I'm still on the "Yay Ra-Ra Enver Gjokaj" team, but Dichen is quickly creeping up on the Whoa Factor.
• What in the hell was Priya thinking, in the whole not tying Nolan up first before confronting him?
• "We gotta run. We gotta run. We've gotta get out of here." Was Topher preparing to run completely away with Priya? If Boyd hadn't shown up, would there be three members of the Dollhouse "going rogue" (sorry, I couldn't help myself) this season?
• Topher on telling Adelle about Priya: "We gotta tell her. She's gonna flip her biscuits. Unless she already knows..." In the beginning, Topher declared you couldn't have a conspiracy theory while in the employe of the conspiracy (per the unaired episode). I guess those days are gone.
• So many backward references! Awesome!
• Sierra and Victor's love! Aw!
• I'm impressed if anyone made it this far into the post.

And, done.

Grade: A+

Quote(s) of the Episode:

PRIYA: Am I allowed to have beer in here? Or is this my last one?
TOPHER: No, you're allowed. On special occasions.

Whip It Reviewed

I went to a roller derby game once. I'd heard a podcast from Stuff Mom Never Told You about the sport, one of my favorite bloggers/TWOP reviewers began playing the game, and in a fortuitous twist, my best friend discovered that Connecticut had a roller derby team (who seem to be quite good, if the game I saw was any indication) and wanted to go. So, I went on YouTube and found a video (this one, actually) to visually illustrate what in the hell would be going on, to go with the audio explanation offered by Molly and Cristen. Because as much as I love Molly and Cristen and the Mom podcast in general, roller derby didn't seem like the kind of thing I'd get just by hearing it. And you know what? Not a bit of that did any good! I was so confused, and after the first 15 or so minutes of general excitement, the fact that I was sitting uncomfortably close to the person next to me began to sink in. It was a fun time, but probably more fun if you can hear the announcer/have any idea how the scoring is happening.

With that being the background of my derby knowledge, I desperately wanted to see Whip It. And I finally did, last night.

It was so much fun, and I think I have a better grasp of derby rules now. I may want to go back, if my friend ever gets a break from grad school homework.

Whip It is, as I said, fun. It isn't the most innovative film ever, but I say that with the caveat that it kind of is, what with its focus on an almost all female cast and a passion that isn't boys (which, sorry Michael Phillips, isn't enough to give the film a "crypto-Sapphic vibe"). Not that boys aren't in it, but getting the boy/keeping the boy isn't what the film's about. The film is about precisely what the poster says: being your own hero. It is about finding your own place, your comfort zone, your tribe. It is about growing up, and having some fun along the way.

Watching Bliss go from the timid, soft-spoken girl we meet at the film's beginning to the more confident and raucous Babe Ruthless, watching her becoming comfortable in her own skin and as a person separate from her best friend, was gratifying. Seeing the mistakes she made and the selfish actions she sometimes took as a 17 year old moving from who she was pre-derby to who she was becoming through roller derby was also pretty cool, helped along by her mentorship with Kristin Wiig's Maggie Mayhem.

And as interesting as I find Bliss and her evolution, the thing that makes the film is how there are no straight up villains. Bliss' mother Brooke, set up as an overbearing pageant-obsessed woman with a psychotic obsession with 1950s womanhood and could have been easily left as such, becomes more understandable through the eyes of Maggie Mayhem, a single mom who lays out the parental element for Bliss. She also comes through with an only semi-awkward sex talk, which just further highlights the complexity of mother-daughter relationships. After Bliss leaves home, it is still her mother she goes to when her life crumbles. Even Juliette Lewis' Iron Maven, the main source of conflict in the World of Derby, isn't left as a cartoonish blight on Bliss' derby happiness. She becomes, though late in the game, a fully three-dimensional character. When she reveals to Bliss that the first time she found anything she was good at was when she discovered derby at 31, a different Iron Maven is revealed - one who is jealously guarding her place as Derby Girl Extraordinaire and who doesn't want to be usurped by a 17 year old who discovered her place a good decade and a half earlier. Iron Maven is just someone late to finding her tribe, who doesn't want to lose it or the feeling of accomplishment it gives her.

Perhaps my favorite part, though, is Bliss' reaction to her boyfriend's potentially cheating ways during his 34 days on tour with his brother's band. Hearing her come back to his, "I didn't even cheat" with "But you didn't call; I would have called", and making that the justification for the break up was all sorts of awesome. It was a confident, strong, willing-to-take-no-bullshit position, one I didn't have at 17 and that I wish I did.

I haven't said anything yet about Pash, Bliss' best friend, and I really should because she is one of the reasons the film works as well. She isn't simply a cheerleader for Bliss' ambition. She is a girl with goals that include getting out of the small Texas town she and Bliss live in. She is protective of Bliss, and somewhat dependent on Bliss. And her angst over feeling like she is losing Bliss to Roller Derby and a rocker boyfriend is allowed and legitimate. It is the depiction of female friendships as complex and deep that also make Whip It a film I loved.

Whip It was, at points, sappy. But that willingness to be sappy, to be silly, to revel in the fun and wonder of a cool life filled with good-hearted and wild people, is partly why the film works. Whip It isn't trying to be too cool for school. And it is all the better for it.

My Favorite Exchange:

BLISS: Oliver is such a great name.

PASH: Yeah, if you like wayward Dickensian orphans.

Grade: A-

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "Belle Chose"

Episodes like this one are why I adore Tim Minear; episodes like "Omega" (an episode I still haven't reviewed! Gah!) are not. That's the line of delineation. Well, truly, episodes like "Epiphany" and "Out of Gas" and "Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been" are why I adore Minear. This one just kind of confirms that I'm right to. First, though, I'm going to jump in with the bad.

Every week I watch Dollhouse, and I see problems. Last week was the whole structural-vs-episodic nature of the show. This week? I'm back to ragging on Eliza Dushku. It isn't that she's bad. Okay, it is that she's somewhat bad, but she isn't totally bad. She just isn't versatile. At all. As a serial killer, she rocks. As a person fighting off serial killer personas and trying to keep some women alive, she also rocks. As Kiki? There is no rocking. What there is are a bunch of stereotypical bounces? and hair twirls? and ending each sentence like it is a question?, but no actual Kiki. There is Eliza Dushku not understanding how to make Kiki a character. There is very clearly Eliza Dushku playing the stereotype of a possible former non-rocket science cheerleader, whose wit (and she does have some, what with the "Scarlet Lady" remark) doesn't make it clearly into the presentation. Which is strange, because Buffy the Vampire Slayer could have easily been Kiki the Vampire Slayer. Going back to the books and watching how Sarah Michelle Gellar or Mercedes McNab or Charisma Carpenter managed to be ditzy and human, recognizing that there is more to that girl than the hair twists and the awkward delivery of sentences would have been a real help. This line:

Okay, so I probably never should have taken this course to begin with. But I figured it was Mid-Evil lit, not Advanced Evil. How hard could it be? So I skipped Intro to Evil or whatever, but how is it I get an "F" when this guy that we're reading, Chauncy, can't even spell?

was so incredibly painful to watch. Made even moreso by the fact that Enver Gjokaj managed to pull off a much more complete Kiki later on in the episode, and most of that was just dancing his heart out - and his tearful reunion with Paul. I long to see Gjokaj in the above scene with the professor, just to show Dushku how to knock it out of the park. As an aside, I join the list of people who think Enver Gjokaj is the most talented member of that cast. That, by the way, is probably the end of the bad from me this time around. Unfortunately, that bad is the star of the show, and should be able to pull off ditzy/dumb-but-beautiful better than she does. The rest of the episode? Aces.

Here's why: this episode succeeds in doing what I just complained the Dollhouse episodes weren't doing in my last review! See how that works? It is an amazing thing. It's more of an amazing thing if you've seen Epitaph One (And if you haven't, what are you waiting for? Go. This review will be here when you get back). But it is amazing all the same in that it is substantially a stand-alone episode that explains a majority of how the Dollhouse works and what it does, and advances the end game. I should also point out that this episode was supposed to be 2.02 and was bumped to 2.03 for the not-so-goodness that was "Instinct", for whatever the reason. We're introduced to a large portion of the procedure part of the Dollhouse through Ballard navigating his first assignment as Echo's handler. The explanation about the "R" for Romantic Engagement, seeing how the Dolls are dressed, all cool, and lead to this tickle-the-funny-bone exchange:

RANDOM HANDLER: I won't even do this for my wife.

BALLARD: I was trained at Quantico.

This brings us to Ballard. Who is, in a word, a creeper. The somewhat pornorific slow shots of "Kiki" taking in her new outfit with pleasure while being watched by Paul wasn't very pleasant. When Boyd came to take Ballard's place as the Handler, I was with Ballard in his "Serial killer? Thank God" remark. What makes the tension kind of wonky (and quite probably in an intentional way) is that the show makes it hard to tell if Paul is upset by the fact a dirty old professor would be making a student to seduce/be seduced by simply because it is Echo and he has a thing for her or if he would be just as revolted if any Doll - say, Victor - were to be put in this play situation. After all, he felt fine making an Echo to be married and sexed up when he was in control. And that, my friends, is why I can't like or trust ex-agent Paul Ballard - too much.

And yet, I do like him. I acknowledge that Tahmoh Penikett, has, as Maia says, "so little range it’s embarrassing". He's an "upset-frown, confused-scrunch up your face" kind of actor. And yet, for Ballard, it kind of works. It could just be that he continually gets lines that are inherently funny, like:

So... Terry. I gotta ask and I think you know I gotta ask. Have you been practicing dentistry on large cats? Leopards? Pumas?

Out of the many things Ballard had to ask or that Terry knew he had to ask, I don't think that was even on the list. He is also one of the most forthright in being able to put in direct terms what Terry is, and as a by-product, what with the intercutting scenes of Echo's engagement, what the Dollhouse is and caters to:

No, you're weird, Terry. But what you're not is special. It doesn't take a criminal profiler to figure you out. Maybe a pimp. It's ordinary. You're ordinary. Maybe you got bottle-fed, maybe you got dumped. It doesn't matter. At some point, you decided real people weren't worth it. You pushed them away. Alienated everyone in your life so you could surround yourself with the fakes, the copies. It made you feel like you had some control.

Since Ballard is both a criminal profiler and a pimp, he is uniquely qualified to diagnose Terry.

Now, let's jump to the very thing Ballard is describing, the engagement. The Dollhouse operates under the premise that it gives people what they need, when instead it becomes clearer and clearer that they generally traffic in what people want. Case in point: the engagement of the week. I can't imagine that a professor ever truly needs one of his students to sleep with him. I can imagine that a weaseling one like the guy we see may want one of his students to sleep with him. To the point where he'll actually make a fake student to seduce through the words of Chaucer and sleep with her, all the while asserting the student is in control of the situation, and making that clear to her:

DIRTY PROFESSOR: No, [Alisoun]'s not a whore.

KIKI: You're saying she uses sex to get what she wants.

DIRTY PROFESSOR: Yeah, I-I'm saying she's a lusty, bawdy, self-aware woman. She doesn't allow men to define her. She knows she's the one with the real power.

KIKI: What power?

DIRTY PROFESSOR: The same power that all women have.

This is one of my favorite scenes, because it demonstrates the lie the professor weaves. The professor is the one with all the power, both because he created Kiki to play out this fantasy and because he is the one who has the option of turning that "F" to an "A". He is the one who wields his intellectualism like a weapon; he is the one who is determined to 'teach' Kiki about this inherent 'power' she has over him. But the only power she has is the power he is willing to grant her. She isn't allowed to have an alternate reading of the text. She isn't allowed to argue her point in a salient manner or to ask if she can rewrite the paper with his critiques in mind, if she can do extra credit. Her power is purely relational to his attraction to her; her power is purely relational to how far he is willing to allow that attraction to go. Her power is wholly contingent upon him. And in one scene, the meme of the sexy worldly woman who successfully seduces the men powerless before her is revealed as a sham. Because the men she seduces aren't powerless, and because her power is determined by how much they are willing to give her - how much they are willing to take. And the professor may truly believe that he - and men - are helpless before the power of women. But that just makes him, well, wrong.

This connects to Terry, the serial killer. He also is under the mistaken belief that women are incredible masterminds - that the women he abducted orchestrated his getting hit with a car and then transferred into Echo. He's the one who the show opened upon, arranging his very own, slightly more mannequinesque fully human dolls. And, by the by, with my mannequin fear, I'm not going to be able to go to a department store for a very long time. It is exceedingly clear who has the power, and it isn't these women being used as Terry's playthings. As Uncle Bradley put it:

There have been other... indiscretions. Women, "survivors", I should call them. And when you have a survivor, you have a person who might be persuaded - monetarily or by other means - to stay quiet.

The rich and the powerful get to do their thing and have their way with the women of the world, and it is swept up and under the rug by money or other means - because the happiness of the Terrys and the Dirty Profs are inherently more important than the women; you know, those women with all the power.

Boyd, either because he's a better person than most in the Dollhouse (and that includes Ballard) or because he's an ex-cop, has issues with that before the whole "potential serial killer" thing comes rattling on out:

BOYD: Do we really want to wake this guy up?

ADELLE: Mr. Langton, have you no charity? We are working to reunite a desperate family with their wayward loved one.

BOYD: By "wayward", do you mean that they've been looking for him ever since he skipped his last bail hearing?

ADELLE: A bail hearing over a minor matter which has since been resolved.

BOYD: And, by "resolved", do you mean -

ADELLE: Yes, yes. A judge was bought off. There is no need to continue to translate me.

And is it just me, or is Boyd becoming more and more Oz-like? All I could think of in this scene:

BOYD: What are you trying?

TOPHER: Uh, a remote wipe?

BOYD: Why?

TOPHER: Oh, well... Victor's loose, doesn't have GPS and apparently he's a serial killer?

BOYD: Ah.

was how Oz would have a remarkably similar reaction. Well, that, and how Fran Kranz's nervous, making-statements-into-questions thing also put him in the running for being able to create a more believable Kiki than Eliza Dushku.

And we're jumping to Topher, who I've saved for last (perhaps erroneously, if no one has managed to get this far) because he has become my absolute favorite. Topher is one of the least complicated moral agents in the Dollhouse, and one of the most complex characters. He's one of the least complicated on the moral front because he won't do what he feels is ethically unsound. He's one of the most complex characters, because the list of things he feels are ethically unsound so far begins and ends with purposefully waking up a serial killer. Also, we have learned that Topher is not, in point of fact, a sociopath or a psychopath. Which makes where his ethical divides begin and end slightly more problematic. And, I have to give the scene, because I love Tim Minear's writing:

ADELLE: Good news on the coma front?

TOPHER: Uh... yeah. Good news is that he's in a coma.

ADELLE: I beg your pardon?

BOYD: Just show her what you showed me.

TOPHER: This is a brain - a healthy brain. Frankly, an overly smart brain. It's my brain. And this is Terry Karrens' brain. See these dark areas? How they extend all the way out to here? You know what that looks like that? That's because Terry Karrens doesn't use that part of his brain. And that'd be where you find stored such things as empathy, compassion, an aversion to disemboweling puppies. Basically, this is what some of your more famous serial killers' brains look like.

ADELLE: You're quite certain of this?

TOPHER: Certain enough that I have serious ethical problems trying to wake him up.

BOYD: Topher has ethical problems. Topher!

One of the questions that arises from this scene, as well as from the scene in "Vows" with Dr. Saunders and the broken Topher we see in Epitaph One, is when does Topher's moral code grow beyond that? When does he recognize that just because an idea may be intellectually brilliant, it can also be morally bankrupt? That, and Fran Kranz, is why Topher is my fav.

The other scene I loved with Fran Kranz was when he is encouraged by Adelle to create the tech know how that will eventually bring about the end of the world as we know it, the remote wipe:

TOPHER: A remote wipe? It can't be done!

ADELLE: It can be done. Alpha did it with Echo.

TOPHER: But he used a tonal interface! Serial Killer Victor would need to have a phone. I need to have a tone. I'd have to get him to answer the phone. Do you have his number?

ADELLE: Obviously not.

TOPHER: Well...?

It is odd to know the end game, and to see the beginnings of the evolution of the tech start as a way to save people, and Victor. It is odd that, for all the Dollhouse does that is destructive, that we can assert is actively destructive, it is this thing that is hard to characterize as such that helps bring about the dystopian version of the future.

Now, to the character the show is ostensibly based around: Echo. Echo is able to reassert control just as Terry Karrens is about to kill his next victim. Which inevitably leads to the question: Does Echo have some form of control?

If she does, is her willingness to go along with engagements now a tacit acceptance of that engagement? Is it a coerced (unknown, to the Dollhouse at large) consent based purely on a need to survive and the understanding that if she broke rank under almost all circumstances other than smashing someone's head in with a croquet mallet, she would be either wiped thoroughly or sent to The Attic? Or is her ability to assert control minimal, only in situations that go against the very core of who Echo/Caroline is, that there are certain imprints that won't take simply because they are so far removed from the lingering persona that makes one Active #1 over another?

I don't think she ever will have the ability to accept or reject an engagement while she is in the Dollhouse, but I do wonder if she is making a deal with the devil on a conscious level or if she only comes out to play when she glitches or when something occurs like a serial killer tries to murder some people whilst in her body. Either way, it is pretty interesting.

Grade: A

Quote(s) of the Episode:

BOYD: Then what? Just leave him out there in his Doll-State? Totally wiped?

TOPHER: He'll be an empty-headed robot wandering around Hollywood. He'll be fine.

ADELLE: We cannot allow Victor to be used as Terry Karrens' vehicle for abduction and murder.

TOPHER: I'm personally against it.

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "Instinct"

So. I think that Firefly is Joss Whedon's most structurally perfect show. Each episode could (theoretically, as I've never tried it) work as a stand alone. Each episode of the 14 that were made also worked within the overarching story lines and themes. Buffy the Vampire Slayer never really caught to the "stand alone episodes working within a dominant theme" thing. Certain seasons were better at it than others (season 5, for instance, did a pretty good job, whereas season 4 was a mish mosh of absolutely brilliant stand alones that existed along side episodes that dealt primarily with the season-long arc). Angel, which I'm significantly less well versed in, especially once we go beyond seasons 1 and 2, also never could quite master the balancing act Firefly achieved so seemingly effortlessly, though they tended to go too far in the "focusing on the dominant theme to the detriment of the individual episode" thing. Buffy is still my absolute favorite thing ever, but I can give Firefly props for doing a hard thing in a genius fashion.

Why start off this post with that? Because Dollhouse doesn't have it. Dollhouse doesn't have it in a couple of different ways, but I'll start off with this one: simply due to the overarching theme and structure of the series' main plot, stand alone (or even stand alone-ish) episodes are significantly weaker than what Dollhouse is about. This episode, Instinct, was better than most stand alone(ish) season 1 episodes in terms of making the Imprint an actual character with an actual persona and an actual, workable story. This episode, Instinct, was better than most of the stand alone(ish) season 1 episodes in terms of taking a trope and twisting it on its ear. How many horror films are made like this one? I don't watch a lot of horror, but the scene with Echo coming back from the "dead" to reclaim her child and take out her captor/killer is fairly recognizable stuff. And that? Was done well. It's just that, unlike Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, the stand alone episode falls far short of the interesting contained in the mystery of the Dollhouse itself. In Buffy, we could take an episode out to deal with Joyce's death. We could take an episode out to mind wipe everyone and have a bit of fun. We could take an episode out to turn a swim team into a bunch of fish (okay, maybe I'm one of the only people around appreciative of that last one). On Angel, we could take an episode to turn Angel into a puppet. We could take an episode to go to the ballet. We could take some time out to deal with Doyle's ex-wife. And I'm not entirely sure what Dollhouse is missing that makes the unbalance it contains less palatable than the wonder that was the unbalance Buffy and Angel struck - but I think it comes down to this: the nature of Buffy and Angel as shows was that we were seeing people we'd grown to love do sometimes crazy things, and we cared because their individual lives were just as important- if not oftentimes more - than that thing that made this season a separate journey from the one that preceded it and the one that would come after. Not only was what they were dealing with generally interesting, but they themselves were a familiar sort of interesting as well.

Dollhouse, if its stand alone episodes were about Topher or Adelle or Boyd, may be slightly more in that vein. As it is now, Dollhouse's stand alones are primarily about the trials and tribulations and wants of people we don't know and don't care about, and the Personas the Actives take on in order to fit into those people's individual worlds.

Take, for instance, this episode. "Instinct". Nate Jordan seems like a pretty okay guy dealing with some pretty traumatic events and who had enough money to make a custom wife and mother for himself and his child while he processed his grief. And I empathize with that plight, even as I consider this episode the bookend to Joel Myner recreating that magic moment he never got to have with his wife in "Man on the Street". But, even though I empathize with Nate Jordan, I don't particularly care about Nate Jordan or his life, even if he does have one of the more adorable infants ever on TV. In order to succeed, and even with the dire news emerging I truly hope Dollhouse does, Whedon is going to have to figure out how to do what he's never done before - make a show not so much about the characters but about the message. Or, he's going to have to focus almost all of his attentions on the Dollhouse, because regular people's lives and what they want Actives for are about as interesting as you'd imagine. Which is to say, even with the money to buy an Active for any length of time, not very interesting at all. Certainly nothing compared to governments turning teenage girls into killing machines, Vampire Slayers dealing with apocalypses on an almost yearly basis, vampires fighting for redemption and dealing with the scurvy demon underbelly of L.A., or a powerful corporation turning people into zombies who can be programmed and reprogrammed. The ethics behind that are far more interesting than what the people are actually programmed to be.

So, now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's get on to this episode. And how it actually is pretty good, once all the above is taken into consideration. Let's talk, first, about that Man in the Street comparison. Because I think it's an apt one. Refresher: Joel Myner is a bit of a dick. Electric Peeps has more on this, and it should be read, but the gist is this:

Whatever motivated Joel to do things the way he did, it wasn’t love. His desire to be a hero in his wife’s eyes turns him into something of a villain, a man responsible for the death of his wife. His engagement with the Dollhouse is an extension of his self-deception, both his chance to play the hero and the proof that he is not.

Nate Jordan? I'm not sure if he is a dick. He's a man in mourning. He's a man who has done a dickish thing. But, unlike Joel, he gets that what he's done was not the best thing in the world to do. He is also a widower, but instead of recreating his wife so he could have her, he was recreating his wife so someone could love their child, until he could do it himself. He is more in line with what Pointy anticipated the first time around:

I think that hearing one’s sainted wife’s words and seeing her gestures in an entirely different body would end up being kind of traumatic, an especially cruel reminder that the one you love was gone. I thought it would be heartbreaking to watch the widower growing more upset, and watching Echo/Departed’s resulting confusion and distress at the realization that she was upsetting someone she thinks she loves.

Nate, as "Emily" explains, "just... went away, you know? It's like the person I knew isn't there any more. It's like he's been replaced by a stranger". And that? Is because "Emily" is the stranger, replacing a beloved wife. What stops this from being a reprise of Joel is the fact Nate won't be going back to the Dollhouse for replacement Karens until the end of time, and also because he recognizes what he's done to Echo:

I'm sorry. This is my fault. I put you through hell.

And that makes his story different. It doesn't make his initial turning to the Dollhouse better; but it makes Nate better.

Now, to what I didn't like about the assignment: "The maternal instinct is the purest". Blech. Bleckity Blech. Once more, for good measure. Blech! My problem is not that Echo flipped the hell out and punched Topher in the nose. My problem is that this particular imprint was so powerful, because it was connected to motherhood, that Echo would punch out Topher and go looking for her child. In the episode before, she could tell that she was all the imprints, but none of them were her. Why not now? I can't really even form my utter gahness at such a development into words, so I'll just crib from EW:

But I just keep coming back to the idea that what turned Echo into a homicidal crazy person was the glandular change that allowed her to nurse. Her girl parts. Couch it in whatever science-y mumbo jumbo you’d like, that’s what sends her off the deep end: Chicks are crazy because they’re chicks. They just get…hysterical. For a dude like Joss Whedon, who’s made a career of writing strong female characters, for a writing staff with its fair share of ladies on it, for an episode that was WRITTEN BY TWO WOMEN…that’s kind of inexcusable.

Yeah, that's it. Right there. That, and the fact that motherhood has a tendency to be portrayed as such a sainted thing, that any mother - even one suffering from technologically induced personality removal - would be able and willing to go to any lengths to get their child back. Because that's just 'natural'. You can't protect your kid, always and forever? Bad mother. This is why Marlin in Finding Nemo is considered an incredible father; but if Marlin were Marla, it would just be another Jodie Foster film.

I agree with EW on one other turn, and that is Eliza Dushku gave her best acting performance to date here. Yes, there were times when she reverted to her stash of acting quirks (she tends to do this squinty thing with her eyes - for every single emotion and for every single character); but for the most part, she did a very good job becoming the character(s). Her line as Echo to Nate:

I'm not real. Do you know who's real?

Was like whoa. I'd put it up there with some of Summer Glau's moments. The difference is, of course, that Summer Glau is continually brilliant and heartachingly wonderful. And Eliza Dushku is still hit and miss.

This is already really long, but I forgot to mention him last week, so here's Wesley! Or, rather, Daniel Perrin. It is exceedingly odd to hear Alexis Denisof's real - American - accent. It's slightly surreal. Also, a little nasally. What I see so far, I like. And what I see so far is a guy who isn't Ballard; that is, a guy who isn't really interested in playing the White Knight so much as he is in righting a wrong that hit him too close to home. His vendetta isn't specifically to save the girl. It is to avenge his dying mother, and maybe do some good along the way. Right away, though, Perrin comes off as less of a creeper than Ballard ever did. And I speak as someone who doesn't dislike Ballard.

I also have to say that I love his wife, Cindy. Her "What about the man with the tin foil hat? Didn't he say Rossum mailed his liver to Saturn?" combined with, "Focus. You are Foil Hat Man's only hope" quickly made her a favorite. Plus, they seem so supportive of each other in the five minutes we've gotten to see them.

Also of note? Adelle arranging for Madeline to come back to the Dollhouse. I'm sure there were actual diagnostic tests that could - and should - be run. But it seems so... interesting that the week after she's told Ballard she got his number in regard to Mellie versus Echo that she gets Madeline back into the Dollhouse.

Other random things: Madeline correcting Ballard when he asks her if she's happy, telling him, "I'm not sad" versus Echo choosing to remain fully in contact with her emotions, because "I'm awake now. I don't want to go back to sleep". In Whedon's world, generally, pain is necessary. Pain is the flip side of the passion for the fight. Pain is what allows us to know of pleasure. Pain is not a side effect of existence but a necessary part. To not feel pain is not the preferred option. The preferred option is to feel pain, to know what goes bump in the night, and to face it with all the knowledge you could amass. What the Dollhouse offers, if Whedon's prior works are any indication (and I think they are) is a false sort of existence - it is the ability to sleep walk through life. And awake, for Whedon, is always better.

Grade: B-

Quote of the Episode: The human mind is like Van Halen. If you just pull out one piece and keep replacing it, it just degenerates.

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "Vows"

TOPHER: But this is the Dollhouse, frenemy. And nothing happens without my... What the hell?

Hello, second season of Dollhouse! Hello, Topher! Hello, Dr. Claire Saunders! Hello, Adelle! Hello, uncomfortably dark greys and philosophical issues! I think Topher's above line pretty much sums it all up. This is the Dollhouse, where the carefully created controlled environs begins to butt heads with chaos. Events are beginning to take shape without Topher's knowledge or consent. As Dr. Ian Malcolm so artfully described in Jurassic Park, "If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us it's that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, expands to new territory, and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously." And this is what makes the Dollhouse (and, in part, Dollhouse) so exciting.

Let's take care of the bad first, shall we? The Engagement of the Week? Still the weakest part of the episode. I'm not entirely willing to blame Eliza for this, although this brings me straight to the next bad. Echo is still the weakest link in terms of characters. She's just kind of blah. Her story - so far - has been kind of blah. It is all wrapped up in things happening to her, rather than things she is doing. Adelle tells Ballard Echo is special, but there is no sign (outside of the unaired pilot) that assertion is correct. Echo is intriguing everyone, but there is nothing there pulling me in. It would be better if she wasn't on everyone's "sparkly" list, because then I could empathize with Boyd's devotion or wonder over Ballard's obsession. But with everyone on board, I'm less so. It is hard to find a character utterly special when all that is there is tell. And while Adelle may be correct in Echo's evolution before Alpha dumped all of her personas into her, she isn't correct in asserting that Echo is special because of that evolution. Victor started to evolve beyond the parameters of the Doll State. Sierra remembered past trauma while in Doll State. Hell, even Alpha evolved, if not admirably. If the unaired pilot was cannon and the story had been continued from there, I'd be on board. But what I've got to work with is that even the psycho Doll latches on to some brilliance that has yet to be properly introduced to us in the viewership. That's going to be a problem.

Another bad, or baddish, is Ballard. I'm not feeling his storyline. Part of it may be the fact that his obsession with Echo is just full of grossness. Part of it may be that he seems to not recognize how his "extreme devotion" to Echo is unhealthy at best and destructive (potentially to both her and him) at worst. But it could also be because I don't want him being rewarded for this weird fixation, and I'm completely not clued into whether or not I'm alone on this, if we're actually supposed to recognize Ballard as being the White Knight who gets a bit of grey on him in his determination to do right or if Ballard is supposed to not be a knight at all, and all the White Knight stuff is just a part of his own hang up and not something we should be rooting for or taking a hold of. In other words, of these two thoughts:

ADELLE: I expect he's looking for something else. A darker purpose, perhaps, or a weakness. And there's his extreme devotion to Echo.

BOYD: So he uses her to fulfill some sad fantasy about righting old wrongs by doing something worse.

which are we supposed to identify with? I'm hoping for Boyd's to come out on top in the end.

I was also taken back (but in a good way) when the client of the "sick" assignment turned out to be Ballard himself. From an unwitting player in the victimization of a Doll in Man on the Street, to an active one in Haunted, Ballard now fully completes the circle by becoming an actual client and a full and equal participant in the game. No wonder Boyd seemed so disgusted with him.

Another baddish moment (perhaps more "bad" than "ish") was Sierra's assignment:

SIERRA: I'm not comfortable with, uh, Orientals.

IVY: It'll only take a second.

SIERRA: It's not a racialist issue. It's just that... Well, your culture's not really the thing, is it?

Ivy: Have a seat.

SIERRA: I suppose I'm at your mercy. In fact, if you were to tie me down and spank me, I could hardly be expected to resist, could I?

IVY: I'll keep that in mind.

It could have been potentially good, potentially mocking the reference to Asia as one monolithic culture, potentially pointing out the insidiousness of internalized racism, recognizing how Asian fetishists are still racist, and demonstrating how difficult it can be to respond to gross stereotypes and blatant sexualization that can often occur in racial interactions. And maybe it was meant to do all of those things; perhaps it even succeeded. Unfortunately, Asians have not faired well in Whedony productions in the past. Whedon has, to put it bluntly, a bit of a race problem in regard to his work. The most blatant example of this is, in fact, Firefly. As Leigh Adams Wright's essay Asian Objects in Space notes - like Sierra merging all Asian cultures into one, undesirable, thing - Whedon's set pieces take all Asian cultures and merge them as well, and without any Asians with speaking parts to make the whole East-West merge seem realistic - or to counteract the "Asians as exotic objects" thing. Which is something Thea Lim from Racialicious also has a certain set amount of problems with (and she mentions Dollhouse, albeit pre-Sierra) in her article Joss Whedon and the Blurry Line Between Homage and Appropriation. Maybe Whedon wants to work to redress those issues present in his past works (and, if DMike from Television Without Pity is to be believed, may already be doing so by giving Sierra a Napalese name in in Epitaph One), but this scene only uncomfortably seems to harken back to his own failures without doing much to acknowledge them as such. "Racialists", it seems, are other people.

Now that we've touched on the bad, let's go back to the straight up, undeniable good. And that is Amy Acker. I'm going to be honest. I didn't like Amy Acker on Angel. I'm coming to the conclusion that it wasn't Amy Acker so much as it was Fred I didn't like, and that is a sweet, sweet revelation because Amy Acker can act the heck out of a script, let me tell you. This is the beginning of Acker's 3 episode swan song before she departs for Happy Town, and Whedon is giving her a lot to work with as Dr. Claire Saunders deals with the fact that she isn't exactly what those in Epitaph One call Actuals. Her method of dealing with actually being a Doll seems to be becoming slightly unhinged and creeping the crap out of Topher. Which is always fun:

TOPHER: Is this your idea of a joke?

SAUNDERS: You designed me, Mr. Brink. I guess it must be your idea of a joke.

TOPHER: I designed you to be a not crazy woman! You've gotta stop messing with me.

SAUNDERS: I don't seem to be able to. Maybe your work's not up to par.

TOPHER: My work is pristine. If you're losing it, that's your fault.

But the most heartbreaking scene for the both of them is this one:

TOPHER: What the...? What the hell?! Are you drunk?

SAUNDERS: I'm just trying to be my best.

TOPHER: Oh, whoa, I-I-I don't want your best.

SAUNDERS (looks down): Well, I think you do.

TOPHER: Okay, that is the minority vote. And you tricked it. Okay? A guy's asleep. Could have been Fozzie Bear and it would have (hand motions upward)... Not that I think about Fozzie Bear.

SAUNDERS: Let's stop playing games.

TOPHER: Okay, huh - how does this qualify as not playing games?

SAUNDERS: Because this is the endgame. This is where it all leads. You design someone to hate you so you can convince them to love you.

TOPHER: Hey, I could whip up a love slave any day I wanted to.

SAUNDERS: But that wouldn't be a challenge, would it? Slaves are just slaves. But winning over your enemy - the one person guaranteed to reject everything you are - that's real love. More real than anything up in the world. And I understand it now. I love you.

TOPHER: You need a frickin' treatment!

SAUNDERS: Why shouldn't I love you? Aren't you lovable? Aren't you Big Brother? Aren't you the Lord my God? Why should I fight your divine plan?

TOPHER: Because you're better than that! Because you're better than me! Dr. Saunders was dead. And Whiskey was out of service, at least temporarily. So DeWitt gave me the call. "We need a new doctor. One who's committed to our cause, who's kind and efficient and will look after our Actives."

SAUNDERS: So why didn't you stop there?

TOPHER: Because I was designing a person, not a Roomba. I needed you to be whole. If you agreed with everything I said, then we would miss something and someone would get hurt.

SAUNDERS: You don't care if people get hurt.

TOPHER: You don't know me! That's the contract. You don't know me, and I don't know you. Not fully, not ever. I made you question. I made you fight for your beliefs. I didn't make you hate me... You chose to.

SAUNDERS: How do I live? How do I go through my day knowing everything I think comes from something I can't abide?

TOPHER: So you weren't really going to sleep with me.

SAUNDERS: I can't stand the smell of you.

TOPHER: I did that - so we never... Why didn't you find out, who you really used to be? You had your chance. Maybe DeWitt would even reimprint your old identity. You've earned it.

SAUNDERS: Because I don't want to die. I'm not even real. I'm in someone else's body, and I'm afraid to give it up. I'm not better than you. I'm just a series of excuses.

TOPHER: You're human.

SAUNDERS: Don't flatter yourself.

One of the key things about that scene is the amount of depth both actors gave it, and what we learn about each character. As Boyd told Claire earlier, "Every person I know is pretty poorly constructed." Topher doesn't seem to like himself very much. He is a genius, and he's good enough and smart enough and skilled enough to know that making a Roomba isn't going to get the job done. But he is also explicitly clear that he made Claire to be a better person than he sees himself as. He created a person who could and would challenge him, who could and would win against him, because he wanted a safeguard. And because he doesn't seem to trust himself - or even like himself - that much. And yet, he seems kind of broken by the idea that she would choose to hate him. And by the end, he's closer to the Topher in Epitaph One's future than he is to the Topher we were first introduced to. That is what I call tragic goodness.

What is also interesting is the extent to which he goes to make certain there will be no sexual relationship between himself and Saunders. He explicitly makes sure his very scent repels her. Which leads to the question, if he could make a sexbot at any time he wanted, has he ever? Would he ever? Is the scent provision just for Saunders? Is it there because he knew Whiskey before, or is it there because he feels distinctly squicky about sleeping with someone he had created? Is it a way for the creator to never abuse his creations, to never cross an invisible and intractable line? I want to know.

I also find it so very cool that the premise Saunders presents, the challenge of getting someone who hates you to love you, is practically the basis for a whole huge swath of romantic comedies, ranging from When Harry Met Sally to 27 Dresses to The Ugly Truth to 2 Weeks Notice. And it is presented here as a sad notion. Which, even though I liked the two non-Heigl films above, was kind of refreshing. The idea that we'll eventually end up with that guy or girl we first hate is a weird one to push. Because, well, it means spending a lot of time (I mean, a lot a lot) with people we don't like at all. And that? Not a fun way to spend your days.

But let's forget about the incredibly talented Fran Kranz and the hidden layerness of Topher in order to discuss Claire Saunders' philosophical and ethical dilemma. Because she does so well and hits it right out of the park almost immediately. She embodies one of the main issues with the Dollhouse - leaving aside the whole "the technology gets out and makes rampaging zombie-like creatures" part out of it for now. Saunders is a real person, no matter how often she verbally contradicts that statement. But whoever Whiskey was before she was Whiskey is a real person as well. She had real thoughts and real feelings, and this body is hers just as much - if not more - than it is Saunders'. To do the right thing and trying to give the body back means submitting to death. Which isn't fair to the good doctor, who never asked to be made. The person Whiskey once was may want to be reimprinted, but Dr. Saunders can't let herself go off into that good night. And I can't blame her. And there is no easy or righteous answer to this dilemma, because no matter what the process results in the 'death' of a persona.

Grade: A-

A Post In Which I Review Dollhouse's "Echo"

When Dollhouse first came out on DVD, I vacillated about buying it. I'm someone who needed to purchase every single season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the day it was released, so my not so urgent need to get Dollhouse was a bit... odd. I blame, mostly, "Omega" - an episode I now realize I never got around to reviewing.

But, it's Joss, and I love Joss, and I liked Dollhouse, and I thought Dollhouse could improve, and my Whedon collection must be complete at all costs to the point where I bought the seasons of Angel I adamantly disliked, so I went ahead and got the series.

And then I ignored it for a while. Until a friend of mine (this friend, actually) asked me if I'd watched the unaired pilot and/or "Epitaph One" and that I should watch them back to back. So I went on vacation, came back, waited a week, and then did it. Which, obviously, as yesterday's post pointed out, blew my mind. Well, "Epitaph One" blew my mind.

"Echo" is illuminating, entertaining, immensely frustrating, and a bit disconcerting. It was disconcerting, because so many scenes that had been flung into different episodes were found here; and since I'd already seen those actually aired episodes and in some cases quite liked the way those scenes were integrated into those other works, seeing them here in rapid succession was a bit strange. And yet, I'm pretty sure I liked it, a lot. Echo and Sierra weren't quite as annoying as Actives during their lunch meet here as they are later in the season, because the episode moves so fast. Ballard's rusty flirting with Loomis does more to illustrate who he is than the fight montage of the first aired episode. Topher and Boyd's bison conversation lets us into a problem (for the Dollhouse, and them) already in progress. Which is where the 'immensely frustrating" part of this comes in.

A conversation that doesn't take place until episode four is already in full swing midway through this episode. Likewise, there is something very 'gah' worthy over having the last word spoken in your pilot episode be the same word spoken (by the same person, in basically the same circumstance, because it is the same freaking scene) last in your (aired) season finale. This? Is the problem with "Echo". Or, more specifically, the problem with Dollhouse. "Echo" puts it all out there, succinctly. It isn't the best pilot I've ever seen, or even the best Whedon pilot I've ever seen. But it is a pilot that quickly moves down the line to not only introduce the characters and the major interpersonal and philosophical issues the show hopes to ruminate upon, but also drops us into a story already set in motion. This Echo? We can care about her right off the bat because she's already evolving. Echo, Caroline, whomever, is already making her presence known to us because she is already affecting the world around her. She is already making choices and connections, even if those are ones she doesn't fully understand. If the series were to have started from this point, we could have potentially ended up lightyears down the line (on the other hand, the show could have been cancelled). Since we didn't start at this point, we were basically spinning our wheels all season long. The end is, quite literally, the beginning. Musing over the missed opportunities is enough to give the serious fan (ie, me) a coronary.

It also is a pilot that begins by putting forth Whedon's most asked question. Echo, as an unnamed person, tells Hayden, a drugged out girl who's pusher has been pimping her out, "This is why I'm here. To save you", and Hayden questions, "Well, what if I'm not worth saving?"

For Whedon, when humanity is not worth saving anymore seems to be the ultimate question. His answer? Seemingly, it is that humanity is never not worth saving. No matter what we do to degrade ourselves, no matter what degrading thing is done to us, we are, all of us, always worth saving. Because he operates, like Mal ("I've staked my crew's life on the notion that you're a person, actual and whole") and like Dr. Saunders ("Dr. Saunders is operating under the radical theory that those people are still people") under the theory that there is an inherent worth to people, that because there is no great god in the sky or overarching plot to the universe, we as individuals matter. And no one can strip us of our worth, because no matter how much the world tries to makes us (mostly, in Whedon's fictional world, us=women) into objects to be used and discarded, there is still a spark present. River, Buffy, Echo/Caroline are all still people, actual and whole, even though the worlds in which they operate treat them as tools.

Which is why Topher is easily the most interesting person in the pilot. At the Cambridge forum, Whedon said:

It's very easy to look down on faith when you have none. Just as it's very easy for every single religious person I've ever met to laugh in my face because they assume that because I do not have a a belief system they understand, I don't have a system of belief. I don't have a moral code. I do. I try to be a decent person. I do this because I think what I do matters. Because it's what I did. And not because it's in a grander scheme, that's just what I think. I think, uh, if I hurt somebody, whether or not I'm ever punished for it, I hurt somebody. And in order for our species to continue, there has to be something in us that goes, 'That's not okay, because somebody might do it to me', and also because as we evolve we realize, 'Oh, that's also not okay because I just don't want that. I don't want to hurt people'.

Topher is, or is presented as, a guy (not a man, as Boyd said they weren't men) without a system of belief. He is the Joker's mask to Whedon's intense humanist belief. Topher is the guy without faith in a higher power, and he is the guy we have to fear because he doesn't have that faith in a higher power. During this exchange:

TOPHER: Does that tie keep you warm?

BOYD: What? No.

TOPHER: No, it's just what grown-up men do in our culture. They put a piece of cloth around their necks so they can assert their status and recognize each other as non-threatening kindred.

BOYD: So what is this, the 60s? Are we gonna burn our draft cards?

TOPHER: You wear the tie because it never occurred to you not to. You eat eggs every morning but never at night. You feel excitement and companionship when rich men you've never met put a ball through a net. You feel guilty, maybe a little suspicious, every time you see that Salvation Army Santa. You look down for at least a half a second if a woman leans forward. And your stomach rumbles every time you drive by a big golden arch even if you weren't hungry before. Everybody's programmed, Boyd.

BOYD: Damn. You really spent some time on your self-justification.

TOPHER: Not the case. I don't care. Tis is an awesome gig. This is cutting-edge science in a house full of hot chicks. Morality is programming too.

he is the prototypical atheist. He is the reason atheists can't get elected to public office. Because he believes that we are all programmed, and he mistakenly believes - because he has not yet grown up - that he is if not above the programming then he is still more aware of it. After all, he never wears a tie, and eschews things like stairs as the proper mode of transportation. And therefore, superior. And because he is superior, then he holds some measure of control over those who are not aware of the programming.

This is the dark side of the humanist's dilemma. Both because it is - generally - what the world sees when it looks at us, and because none of us have the easy answers for why people matter. Religious people have their book, and have the faith that God wrote morals onto (or perhaps into) men's hearts. Those of us without it? Well, we don't have the easy answers of "some great omnipotent being told us to". We have, generally, a lot of questions and not many answers. I may espouse to Whedon's life affirming "We matter, because our insignificance makes each life infinitely significant", but just like religious fervor has an extreme negative side, so does a lack of religious belief. For every Whedon, there might very well be a Topher. Even lurking inside a Whedon.

What becomes interesting is the fact that although Topher is extremely immature, he is still amazingly aware. His potential self-loathing, brought out into the light in Epitaph One and even earlier in Omega (and possibly in Spy in the House of Love) is illuminated earlier here, when he asks Dr. Saunders if she thinks he's a monster. His own revulsion of Saunders, and Saunders' face, are interesting considering that he built her. He built her to wear that face, and to hide in the shadows. And perhaps most importantly, he recognizes what all the players in their little conspiracy theory are:

BOYD: This whole operation is based on not being reckless.

TOPHER: Nonsense! We walk the wire, man-friend. We live in the Dollhouse, which makes us dolls and the people playing with us little children. Children break their toys, Boyd.

Topher lays it down on the line for all of us. He's up front with the notion that all of them will be, in some way, broken. Because they are all not only complicit in the Dollhouse, but objects of it themselves.

It could have been a hell of a show. Hopefully, now it will become that.

Review: Julie & Julia

TOBY: I was raised on Sesame Street. I was raised on Julia Child. I was raised on Brideshead Revisited. Their legacies are safe in my hands.

[C.J. is standing in the doorway, giggling]

TOBY: You've got a problem?

C.J.: You watched cooking shows?

TOBY: I watched Miss Julia Child.

Let me start right out front and say that I think Meryl Streep is very possibly the Best. Actress. Ever. I recognize serious competition from the person who has occupied the spot of Best. Actress. Ever. for most of my life, that being Katharine Hepburn, whom I also love.

So, Julie & Julia is amazing. Meryl Streep is amazing. Part of what makes Streep so amazing, aside from how she got the role of Child in the first place, is how she - a 5 foot, 6 inch woman - fills the space of a 6 foot 3 inch woman. Part of that is, of course, movie magic. But part of it is just being that good of an actress.

I did enjoy the Julia Child parts of Julie & Julia more than the Julie Powell parts of the film. That isn't because the 'Julie' part is weak. It is that the Julia Child part is just that wonderful. Part of this is because Child, even before she was synonymous with French Cooking, is so much larger than life. And with Streep portraying her, she practically explodes off of the screen itself. When she bursts into her French Cooking class with a glee filled, Bonjour, when she is on screen at all, the atmosphere of the movie theater is altered. A regular person, Julie Powell for instance, can't hope to compete with that force of nature. She does try, though. And her portion of the film is amply wonderful, even if I would almost have preferred if Nora Ephron had made two films, companion pieces, to create these women instead of smushing them into one.

One of the reasons I loved the Julia Child sections and only liked the Julie Powell sections were because of the relationships the two women had with their respective husbands. Julia and Paul (played deftly by Stanley Tucci) were so many things, and fun was a big part of that. They joked, they seemed to genuinely bask in each other's company, they were at ease together, and their sex life was readily apparent if not explicitly portrayed. In comparison, Julie and Eric don't seem to share the same joy in each other. There are certain scenes where they do. Eric's rendition of "Psycho Killer", substituting "Lobster Killer" is one such scene. It comes in waves and patches, but it isn't a pervasive presence as it is for Julia and Paul. That doesn't make their relationship off or wrong or bad; it just means that it may have been better if their more subdued relationship had a larger degree of separation from the Childs' exuberant one.

That being said, I do see the appeal in combining the two. It makes Julie's obsession and admiration of Julia Child much more palatable if we are shown what is to obsess and admire about Child herself. If all the audience had to go on were the clips of Child's shows and Dan Aykroyd's Saturday Night Live sketch and the factual snippets Powell mentions throughout the course of the film, Child would probably remain outside of the viewer's grasp. And in contrasting Child's own struggles in creating and publishing Mastering the Art of French Cooking with Powell's struggle to get through all 524 recipes contained within the cooking tome, it becomes apparent that a person doesn't have to be larger than life, to be extraordinary, in order to be worthwhile of admiration and focus. Because while Julie Powell is, more or less, ordinary, while Powell doesn't have the same spark, the same fearlessness, the same wonderment of her idol, she has still done something incredible. She has still done something with her life, and created enjoyment for all of those who followed her along her journey in real time as well as those of us who are only now aware of her feat.

Now, though, I've got to get some books about Julia Child. And maybe pick up Julie Powell's Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen.

Grade: A