Atomic Linky

Next generation design tool Atomic has officially launched.
“Design has become an essential function inside every modern software business, and is destined to become a major software category. Atomic has over 30,000 beta users and many thousands more reviewing their designs, and we’ve only just begun.
The world’s most recognisable brands are using Atomic to create interactive prototypes without ever touching a line of code. It’s powerful, insanely fast and even runs in the browser, so there’s nothing to install and available everywhere. We’re determined to make prototyping more available to designers, and design more available to everyone.”
My friend Grant is one of the original gangsters of Atomic, and I am insanely happy for him.
Here’s the overview video:

Overview of Atomic from Atomic on Vimeo.

I wrote a big article about the racism embedded in Lovecraft’s famous story “The Call of Cthulhu”, and whether you can extract it when you do your follow up Cthulhu thing. (Everybody’s doing follow-up Cthulhu things at the moment. Lovecraft = so hot right now.)

Peanuts – strip out the last panel and all you get is the despair.

The Grauniad has a great interview with wonderful cartoonist Kate Beaton

How did I not know about this December 2014 video by NASA interns, “All About That Space”?

New Ta-Nehisi Coates epic act of journalism to rend your heart and challenge your understanding: The Black family in the age of mass incarceration. Intimately personal to the experience of Black America, but given the way the USA tends to export its cultural discourse, crucial reading all over the place.

Can rice actually save your wet phone?

Why do we admire mobsters? It’s a bit once-over-lightly, but this is something I wonder myself every time I bounce off “The Sopranos”.

And finally, ads for cocaine paraphenalia from the 70s. These seem so strange now, our perception of that drug has changed so much over the years.

Watching Buffy: s03e09 “The Wish”

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The hidden connection between Xander and Willow was revealed last week, with predictably devastating consequences for their respective romantic partners. This episode is dedicated to the fallout. Mostly the focus stays on Cordelia, but the interaction between Oz and Willow is of course the most painful: Oz gives Willow a smackdown that is so clear and gentle and insightful it is almost kind, and therefore it hurts the most.

Willow has always been the audience’s emotional conduit into the fiction, and so we could expect to be wounded there. Our relationship with Cordelia, however, is much more ambiguous. She has been part of the Scooby Gang for a long time but has never been admitted to the inner circle. Although her role as truthseer/truthsayer hasn’t been used much lately, she still maintains the outsider’s position. Her relationship with Xander has consistently been seen as unusual and inexplicable, including by the characters themselves. After an event like this, any realistic emotional reaction would likely see Cordelia distance herself from the gang, and therefore from the show. It is entirely unclear what the show is going to do with her now: the show tacitly acknowledges this by positioning her symbolic destruction of the Scooby gang, by chopping up a photo and burning the others, into the pre-credits climax.

Apart from a perfunctory demon at the cold open and a perfunctory vampire just before the first commercials, the whole first act is monster-free, and mostly devoted to Cordelia. Crucially, we see her bedroom for the first (and only) time, helping us identify with a character who has often been kept at a distance by the show. Then it’s the return of Harmony, who is predictably cruel to Cordelia, but even more so by the handsome popular guy who suggests they might hook up as long as it’s “someplace private”. These scenes do all kinds of work – they of course show Cordelia heartbroken and looking for comfort, but also reinforce our empathy by reminding us that she made a socially-costly choice in choosing Xander, one that refuted something previously core to her identity. Cordelia is not just betrayed, she is also suddenly isolated.

The show takes the time to show us all the ways in which Cordelia is wounded because her heartbreak is to assume fairy-tale power in this episode. She meets a new girl, Anya, and they bond instantly (in a way that rhymes with Cordelia and Buffy’s first, friendly, encounter in the very first episode). However, it turns out Anya is a demon who lures Cordelia into making a vengeful wish – that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale – and then grants it.

This is a form of metaphor monster – “what if your hurt feelings came to life?” It’s interesting to note just how much power the show gives Cordelia’s emotional injury, sufficient to overwrite reality itself. Cordelia finds herself in a dangerous, burned-out Sunnydale, fearful and beset by vampires after the Master successfully rose from his imprisonment. The ruined town is presented vividly, with much of the logic of nightmare, slowly heaping unsettling revelation upon unsettling revelation until we meet Xander and Willow – both vampires in the new reality. Cordelia is narrowly rescued by Giles and his helpers, and learns that this is indeed the world she wished for.

This is (if I remember right) the most dramatic change caused by magic in the whole series, approached only by a similar effect in season four’s Superstar (which, not coincidentally, was also driven by intense personal anguish). It is incredibly effective. The model for this kind of story is Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, in which Scrooge witnesses a dark future that awaits if he does not change his ways. The more recent and more apposite exemplar is It’s A Wonderful Life, in which George Bailey is shown what his town would be like if he’d never been born, and discovers it an awful and dark place. The structure of these tales is clear: the dreamer has a vision of an unpleasant reality, and has a change of heart about the world and their place within it. And so the audience is set up for a breathtaking swerve: Xander the vampire kills Cordelia. Cut to commercial.

Even in a show that delights in subverting audience expectations, this is an exceptional act of rug-pulling, perhaps the most unexpected reversal ever pulled off by the show. It echoes the early twist in Psycho, and not much else: Western storytelling methods have trained us to accept that our primary point-of-view character early on will remain so to the end (and will probably grow as a person along the way). By ditching Cordelia – and at the half-way point, not waiting for the three-quarter – the episode throws out the rulebook and lets us know we are off the beaten narrative track from here on in. Watch out folks, this is bat country.

The rest of the episode continues a brutal tour of the alternative Sunnydale, culminating in a nasty showdown where the returned Buffy and the other remaining good guys engage in a lethal showdown against the Master where pretty much everyone dies before Giles grabs Anya’s magical necklace and smashes it, restoring things to normal. We see Cordelia make her wish, but Anya can no longer grant it; delightedly, Cordelia proceeds to make many more vengeful wishes as the episode ends, having learned no lessons and had no change of heart. The experience was not for her benefit, in the end. It was for ours.

This dark alternative was presented for the audience. It shows us that the show is playing fair, holding to its commitment to real threats. It shows us that this is a story worth telling – that the battles Buffy and friends fight matter to the world. It shows us new aspects of familiar characters (Willow!), and how they have influenced each other (the hardbitten friendless Buffy). And it gives us the visceral thrill of showing how bad things could be if the bad guys won.

Marvel Comics geeks of a certain vintage – approximately the vintage of Joss Whedon, as it happens – will already know where I’m going with this. “The Wish” is a riff on It’s a Wonderful Life, sure, but more than that, it is a very specific take on Marvel’s What If.

The original, classic run of What If was from 1977 to 1984, roughly contemporaneous with the Claremont X-Men run beloved of Whedon and cited by him as a major influence on Buffy. It was the creation of Roy Thomas, a comics superfan turned pro, and displayed his enthusiasm for continuity and winding the many strands of Marvel comics publishing into a single coherent universe. In each issue, a comics tale was reimagined as alternate history: what if things went a different way? Usually this ended with tragic death, often with mass death and destruction, and occasionally the end of the universe itself. Every aspect of the wishverse is right out of the What If? playbook: the triumphant villain, the good-guys-turned-bad, the death and despair.

Within the shared Marvel universe that Roy Thomas loved so much, these imagined alternate histories didn’t matter. They were described as other dimensions or other worlds, but by their nature they couldn’t influence the main reality. They were purely provided as entertainment for the reader, and the effect was to give the experience of depth to this imagined world. A world that can sustain alternate histories is a world that has a history; a world where the fates of characters can change is a world where those fates matter. All stories are imaginary, but this kind of dark counterpart elevates these stories into a special kind of imagined space. Buffy is not just a story – it is a story world.

This claim sits oddly with the show’s gleeful shrugs when it comes to building a believable world outside the main protagonists and their emotional lives. Perhaps it can only be taken seriously as a restatement of the principle of emotional reality: after all, the wish that creates our vision of a different world arises from emotion, and this vision is clearly focused on corruptions of the core relationships amongst our cast.

The events of the previous episode didn’t just send Cordelia careening away from the core cast of this show – they also convincingly argued that Buffy and Angel cannot remain in the same narrative space together without tearing each other apart. If Buffy is a story world, then these emotional trajectories can be followed through: Angel and Cordelia don’t need to stay in Sunnydale, with Buffy. There is a whole wide world out there full of possibilities, and though it might not make much sense in terms of logic, it sure does make sense in terms of passion.

Other thoughts:
* Buffy’s in Cleveland! The idea of Cleveland as another Hellmouth is a minor bit of series lore the show will return to several times, although it never particularly takes it seriously. (Remember, the world doesn’t need to make logical sense!)
* Buffy in the wishverse joins the long tradition of alternate-universe-person with a scar across their face.
* This is a wonderful episode, but there is one note that clunks. The Master – delightfully revived by Mark Metcalfe – reveals his big plan is making an automated blood factory. Once again, technology and the supernatural don’t feel right together on this show, and it doesn’t feel of a piece with the rest of the stuff in the episode or with what we know of the Master. It’s always seemed clear that vampires like hunting, and drinking straight from the source.

Team Ball Player Thing Linky

New Zealand is a very strange country. This will be all over NZ by the time this blog goes live, so I’m including it for international friends – it’s a charity song linking to the Rugby World Cup, featuring All Blacks on unicorns and dressed as wizards and running away from giant ants, and there’s Flight of the Conchords and Lorde and Kimbra and Peter Jackson and all the other usual suspects plus loads of cool NZ creative sorts without big international profiles and just watch it and love it. And then donate!

I love this story about a cute teenage couple in an online relationship in the 90s. So much of this resonates – online was different in the 90s, kids. *makes modem sound*

Are you a famous comedian worried about political correctness? This essay says it’s time to take a lesson from the Beastie Boys.

Deeply weird & fascinating photo essay of the City of London financial district (via George Monbiot)

A Grauniad film reviewer’s two-star review made it on to the film’s poster in a very sly way. Here’s what he has to say about it… (via David Ritchie)

Grab the audio from a legendary 1992 Sonic Youth concert

Why do we suddenly care about Syrian refugees? That photo of course, but what else is going on? An enlightening assessment.

Before you sit a test in a stereotypically male domain, imagine you’re a stereotypical male. (This MIT student blogger is marvellous – thanks Jamie for sending it my way.)

Download the audiobooks of your favourite movie novelizations.

Nabokov gave clear instructions on what should be on the cover of Lolita. YOU’LL NEVAR GUESS WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.

Cool fan art: Disney Princesses, Star Wars style

The new Star Wars novel is being targeted for masses of one-star reviews! The culprits: Star Wars fans.

Vox has an interesting explainer on what the heck is going on in the Republican party right now, including what “cuckservative” means. Spoiler: it makes no sense, they are well out of the zone of reason.

This Atlantic piece says J.K. Rowling’s habit of continuing her fiction in random twitter updates is basically the same as George Lucas writing over his Star Wars films. I link to it as this week’s example of being completely wrong.

Speaking of being completely wrong, an article by Jonathan Chait! But this time I hope he is right: the planet is starting to get on top of the climate change challenge. (If he had just managed to avoid scolding the “despairing left” at the end I might have made it through the whole piece without rolling my eyes. Chaits gotta Chait I guess.)

Fascinating tale of an American who was thrown out of teaching for being anti-government, and ended up coaching the Ugandan basketball team as a spy for the CIA. (If there aren’t a dozen spec scripts being written RIGHT NOW based on this story, I’ll eat a copy of Save The Cat.) Excerpt: “At dinner one night, without warning, he broke into the New Zealand national anthem”.

And finally, a Pinky & the Brain supercut: are you pondering what I’m pondering?

Watching Buffy: s03e08 “Lovers Walk”

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Most TV shows have a tone that is fairly easy to understand. Lots of cops-investigating-murders shows run on furrowed brows and gallows humour; most sitcoms have families and friends who love each other despite wacky misadventures. Some shows go for more tonal complexity: Shonda Rhimes makes hugely successful TV that drops near-campy levels of romance all over gut-punching procedural problems; Mitch Hurwitz’s Arrested Development dares you to like the miserable, self-absorbed characters at the heart of the show; Justin Roiland & Dan Harmon’s Rick & Morty makes you both laugh and cry every time a character suffers a messy death.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer encapsulates in its title one of the most challenging tonal mixes of all: horror-comedy. What a misbegotten subgenre, populated with countless misfires that all came about because someone thought “they both involve tension and release – this is gonna be easy!” This is the wrong thought. It is not easy. If you’re not careful, you end up with moments like Pee-Wee Herman’s death scene in one particular horror-comedy film called “Buffy the Vampire Slayer“. Ahem.

It is, of course, not impossible to get right. There was a particularly good batch in the 80s, Fright Night, Ghostbusters, Return of the Living Dead, Evil Dead 2, and a few others, but the list of failures is long. My personal take on why it’s so hard is that most horror effects rely on trapping you inside the fiction, and most comedic effects function by positioning you outside the fiction, and it’s really hard to move back and forth. There’s no reliable route to get around this, and each of the successful films above finds its own solution: they tell a horror story with a dusting of comedy (Fright Night), they tell a comedic story with a dusting of horror (Ghostbusters), they go right through conventional sensibilities and burst out the other side laughing and wielding a chainsaw (Evil Dead 2).

Nonetheless, the Buffy TV show wants to be legitimately scary (it is committed to presenting real threats to its characters) and also legitimately funny. But it doesn’t stop there. If those two contrasting tones weren’t enough of a challenge, the show adds a third: it wants to deliver dramatic, realistic character beats as well. It wants to be a tense horror/delightful comedy/authentic drama. That mixture’s a high degree of difficulty.

Over the last two seasons the show has slowly been getting more skilled at managing these tone differences, and now in season three it is routinely pulling off tonal gymnastics that would have been unthinkable just half-a-season back. This episode is a showcase performance in getting terror, laughter and feels working in harmony.

“Lovers Walk” brings the return of Spike, the scary enemy who had worked so well as a threat in season two. His first appearance in School Hard had given the show a shot of fierce new energy, throwing out the staid vampire threat from season one and replacing it with something that felt much more dangerous and unpredictable. Across the long season Spike was never undermined, and even his period diminished in a wheelchair turned into a reveal of just how canny and dangerous he was. Finally he entered into a very uneasy alliance with Buffy to regain lost ground, then exited the show on his own terms. He remained a scary figure right to the end, even while the show played some delightful deadpan comedy off his cruel wit and that final team-up of convenience.

Spike returns to the show in rather a different state than he left, highlighting the contrast by having him once again crash into the Sunnydale sign on arrival, but this time because he is a pathetic drunken mess as opposed to a fearsome vandal. The show is delightfully clear about how we’re meant to take this: the cut to Spike happens on Cordelia saying “what kind of moron would want to come back here?” Yep – last season’s scary vampire is now comic relief.

And what comic relief he is! Peering drunkenly through the window at Angel, muttering to himself that he’s not afraid even while he slinks away, then tripping over himself and knocking himself out, to being woken by the sunrise setting his hands on fire. Next stomping into a magic shop and ineffectually demanding some kind of lurid curse, oblivious to the magnitude of his decline.

However. Willow enters and leaves the scene, and we swing back to Spike expecting more of the same, but the show pivots right under our feet. Vamp-face on, he cruelly murders the helpful shopkeeper. It is terrifying. And suddenly he’s moving through the narrative with deadly purpose, using Xander to kidnap Willow and then brutally threatening her with a broken bottle.

But this wasn’t just a bait-and-switch, dishing up comedy pathetic Spike before surprising us with his true badass self again. The show continues to use him for laughs: he makes Willow listen to his tale of woe and weeps on her shoulder, prompting her to pat his knee and say “there there”; but then it spins right back to terror, as he homes in on her neck and openly covets her blood. And then both tones at once, as Willow says she might not succeed at what he is asking, and he replies: “Well, if at first you don’t succeed, I’ll kill him [Xander], and you try again.”

The episode continues to pull off this interaction between laughs and horror. The mid-episode climax: Spike turns up at Buffy’s home and finds Joyce, alone and undefended. Of course we’re terrified for her – but the show cuts to reveal Spike sharing his heartbreak with Joyce over hot chocolates. (He asks for the little marshmallows.)

Then Angel appears, correctly identifies that Spike is dangerous- but Joyce knows him only as a threat and refuses to let him in. Spike taunts Angel, pretending to bite Joyce. It’s hilarious and yet we know he’s not kidding – he could turn on Joyce in a moment and kill her without a second thought.

Only when Buffy arrives on the scene does Spike’s deadly threat recede into neutral. The show doesn’t make the slightest effort to maintain tension over Spike’s use of Willow and Xander as collateral, with Buffy guessing very early “he’s probably just got them locked up in the factory.” And yet tension doesn’t disappear. We know by now that the show can pivot fast, and Spike’s threat could be reawakened. But more importantly, we know that Spike is a wild card. He can push the story in all kinds of unexpected directions. He knocks things down and stirs things up, and his presence means nothing is safe.

Which is how we end up with one of the most devastating scenes in the whole run of Buffy: when Oz and Cordelia, who have been so charming and positive and in love with their respective partners, bravely risk their lives to rescue Willow and Xander, only to discover them kissing. This is the show extracting its pound of emotional flesh. There must be pain.

Meanwhile, Spike tears apart the veil that keeps Buffy and Angel from being honest about their feelings for each other with one of the show’s most memorable speeches: “You’re *not* friends. You’ll never be friends. You’ll be in love till it kills you both. You’ll fight, and you’ll shag, and you’ll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you’ll never be friends. Love isn’t brains, children, it’s blood… blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.”

And still the show isn’t done with the tone switches. Right as Spike rediscovers his true bad self, as he’s starting to seem scary and capable again, he offers the best laugh of the episode: “Oh, sod the spell. Your friends are at the factory.”

There, Cordelia has fallen on some rebar and is horrifically wounded. With Xander, the betrayer, kneeling at her side, she murmurs some final words, then lies still as the camera holds sombre and steady. And we cut to a funeral. And the show immediately shouts “PSYCH!” and has Buffy and Willow talk about how Cordelia’s going to be okay.

These are just the biggest back-and-forth moments this episode; there are plenty more, and several that manage to be hilarious and terrifying at the same moment. This episode makes it look easy, when it really, really isn’t. It’s a sign of how the show has grown, and how good it has become at being what it is. Season two gets the accolades but season three is a clear step up in quality in pretty much every way imaginable.

The show is pulling off these gymnastics and landing beautifully. But how? What is allowing the show to balance comedy and horror so effectively? Not to mention making room for dramatic feels as a third tone! Every tonally complex show has to figure out its own solution to this puzzle. What is Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s?

The answer is right there in front of us, hiding in plain sight. That third tone, the one about realistic characters and emotions? Despite appearances, that doesn’t actually make things more complicated. The third tone allows the first two to work together. How do you make comedy and horror work in harmony? You make them happen to people who feel real.

This episode is the best example so far of the show successfully hitting all three tones, comedy, horror, and personal drama, and switching between them so seamlessly that they are clearly one united whole; each aspect strengthens the rest. It is a significant achievement, something that marks Buffy out as special, that justifies its reputation and importance.

And my instinct, of course, is to cycle right back to where this watching project began: the problem of Jesse, the tension that arose from the show’s core mission to have real threat and real emotions while still being fun to watch. We saw in season two how the show solved the problem of Jesse, but we’ve never really considered why it even tried. What was so important about those principles in the first place? Striving to make a show with real threat (horror) and real emotions (personal drama) that is fun to watch (comedy) – what becomes possible as a result? What makes it worthwhile?

This episode becomes possible. This episode makes it worthwhile. And many more such episodes to come.

Other notes:
* Apparently Buffy nails the SATs? Where does that come from? Huh. The show at least has the grace to lampshade it. Cordy is also academically gifted – the Scoobies are basically the school’s smartest kids. (Except Xander.)
* The precredits climax landing on Spike’s arrival is the second climax that works only if you’ve watched the show before. As the show’s mythology grows, they’ll rely on this more and more.
* The Mayor as big bad doesn’t really work yet. He’s funny and interesting but he doesn’t seem to be up to anything much – he’s very reactive.
* Willow turning to magic straightaway to solve problems – that’s some character that’ll stick.
* The writer for this ep is Dan Vebber, who only wrote one other episode for Buffy. That one’s a cracker too, as we’ll see soon enough.

Gremlins 2 Linky

I love Gremlins 2. Don’t you love Gremlins 2? You should love Gremlins 2. But even if you love Gremlins 2 you must have wondered: HOW Gremlins 2? WHY Gremlins 2? Key and Peele finally reveal the truth:

The Atlantic has a great, readable overview of the psychology study reproductions controversy.

Also at the Atlantic: everyone knows the decline in cursive handwriting is because of new technology – but instead of the iphone, perhaps the culprit is… the ballpoint pen?

This Vox article on how tech nerds just don’t get politics, and how they should make the effort because if any system needs to be disrupted it’s this one, kept turning up in my streams. When I finally clicked on it I saw it was by David Roberts, who was the best thing at Grist and is now the best thing at Vox. You should read it too, it’s great.

Ten fascinating minutes on the making of the Masters of the Universe movie (which is weirdly good considering how bad it is):

And fifteen fascinating minutes on the making of the Blair Witch sequel (which, as a reminder, was made by the guy who did the legendary Paradise Lost documentaries). I really liked this film when I watched it, even though it’s obviously a mess – this video really helps make sense of exactly what was going on there. I’d love to see the director’s cut one day.

Smart little vid comparing three filmed versions of the same Hannibal Lecter scene.

Tribute to Wes Craven: his many film screams.

Why can’t our camera capture that image we’re looking at? Interesting look at how the camera technology works differently to the eye and how this affects what we photograph and what we think we photograph.

And finally… unconvincing stock photos of punks.

Watching Buffy: s03e07 “Revelations”

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It’s been a while, but this episode offers one of those three-quarter twists this show does so well. It even lands exactly on the 3/4 cliffhanger. Gwendolyn Post, the officious new watcher who has arrived to supervise Faith, is revealed to actually be a naughty bad one. It’s a great twist because she already gave the show plenty of juice: she’s a logical plot development, a direct challenge to Giles, and a threat to the integrity of the Scoobies while being impossible to easily dismiss. She was even thematically on point, an oblivious adult authority for the teens to cope with and rebel against. The show throws all that out the window to make her a one-and-done villain, so presumably it thinks it’s getting something important in return.

Quick summary: at the beginning of the episode Buffy and Faith are slaying together, focused and happy and literally in sync. Then Mrs Post turns up and immediately assumes the Watcher role for Faith and Buffy, to Giles’s chagrin. She warns the group that a demon called Lagos is hunting a magical glove in Sunnydale. When the group exclude her to have a secret meeting about Angel, she manipulates Faith into finding out more. Shortly thereafter, Giles tells her the location of the glove. She knocks him out and rushes to Angel’s to take the glove, tricking Faith into fighting with Buffy before revealing her villainy and being (inevitably) destroyed. The final scene is Buffy and Faith again, but Buffy’s secrets have changed the relationship. Buffy says “you can trust me” but Faith isn’t interested. They are out of sync, their harmony in pieces.

Buffy’s transgressions against Faith are, by any reasonable standard, minor. They make for a pretty weak lever to split her and Faith, even with that relationship being new. The implication is that Faith’s retreat from Buffy is a response to the whole situation with Gwendolyn Post and Angel and so forth. This points directly at her central character flaw, essentially a fear of vulnerability. It’s smart character work from the show once again, eschewing any simple action/reaction model of behaviour for something messier and more authentically human – note also that, although Faith is shown that Post had been corrupted, she still takes Post’s advice on answering a knock at the door and adopts her description of her room as “Spartan”.

(Faith’s character flaw is also set up as an interesting mirror of Buffy’s: the motivations and methods are very different, but both of them retreat from other people and try to handle everything themselves when the pressure comes on.)

Faith’s retreat from Buffy marks the start of an actual storyline about her, and while it’s obviously a significant development and something that will be central to the season’s arc overall, it wasn’t at all an expected development and it’s very hard to anticipate what will follow – it is a shift that could play out in all kinds of ways. Once again, season three manages to avoid predictability, especially in comparison with the arc in season two which drew great power from its inevitability.

This is obviously a significant development for the show, but in my view it isn’t the most interesting thing going on in this episode. In fact, I don’t even think it’s the most important thing happening here. My nominee for both is how this episode handles Xander.

It’s been clear for a while the show is having issues with the character of Xander Harris. Just a few episodes ago Xander hit a new low, callously abandoning his post to nap when he was supposed to be guarding Oz. This was basically using him for a cheap joke and making him carry the idiot ball so the plot worked out more easily. Both of these are signs the show is struggling to make him work in the ensemble. This isn’t a surprise: a male character representing instinct is always going to struggle to make a good impression in a show with a female perspective, and having his strongest early episode also be the one that makes him an attempted rapist has tainted the character at a deep level.

Two episodes back, the show took a dramatic step to find a way to get some use out of Xander by throwing him into an affair with Willow. It’s a potent, divisive move (the kind of ruthless development that will become something of a trademark – or a cliche – for Whedon’s work) and it infuses every hang-out scene among the Scoobies with some edge-of-the-seat anxiety. Suddenly the audience has every reason to care a great deal about what Xander is doing, because there’s so much at stake – no less than the happiness of Willow, Oz and Cordelia (the three most beloved members of the cast). One thing it doesn’t do is engender any greater sympathy for Xander. I’d expect reactions to this affair are largely driven by where the audience member might sit on their view of Xander – specifically, if they see him as a terminal waste of space, then they’ll hate him for messing up so bad and they might see Willow’s actions as a betrayal of her character by the writers. And by this stage of the show’s history, a lot of people were over Xander. The many years since broadcast have not been kind to the character either.

Xander as he has been portrayed in the previous two seasons has given ample reason for dismay. While he has had several key moments of heroism and good character, his common role in stories from week to week seems to have become “make a thoughtless comment exemplifying male insensitivity and entitlement, and then blunder into a monster and fall down”. The show’s engine runs very easily on those kinds of comments and that kind of blunder, so it’s unsurprising Xander is used in this way over and over again, but it does make it very hard to cheer for him.

Almost in spite of this, Xander has been changing and growing. Xander at the start of season three is different from Xander of season one in many many ways. He is no longer hung up on Buffy, is no longer cruelly oblivious to Willow’s feelings, he is no longer unconvinced of his value as a human being. With the exception of his callous failure to watch Oz recently, he has moved beyond the truely clueless selfishness of his early teenage boy portrayal. These are positive steps, but they don’t seem to be helping: Xander still doesn’t feel right. There’s a simple reason why: the show has made changes in Xander by taking away some of his most egregious negative traits, but they have failed to give him any new aspects to make up for these losses. Xander in season three is in a real sense less of a character than he was in season one, because he has gotten past many of his hangups and now just bumbles along. Until this recent affair with Willow, the show just hasn’t found anything for him to actively do except comment on the action and get into trouble. It’s obvious they don’t have any idea any more what he is for.

In this episode, new writer Doug Petrie delivers a portrayal of Xander that provides the best vision so far of what he can be to the ensemble. (Petrie, like Jane Espenson last week, is another s3 recruit who stays with the show to the end then goes on to greater things.) Under Petrie’s pen, Xander gets plenty of interesting beats.

The episode begins in the Bronze, where Xander is trying to hang out in a group with Willow without encouraging their forbidden attraction; when he accidentally touches her hand, he recoils so much that he makes a gigantic spectacle of himself. He gracefully accepts the humiliation, clearly at peace with his traditional role as clumsy goof.

In the library, he bristles at being ordered around by Giles, but still starts to get stuck into the work, recognizing it’s important. Willow approaches him and rubs her temples to try and relieve her discomfort. He reaches out to do it for her, and she protests weakly, knowing the chemistry between them is dangerous. Xander listens to her, and stops. Whereupon Willow launches herself at him, and they kiss passionately until they are interrupted. Giles tells them of a suspicious location, and Xander volunteers to check it out, partly to get away from temptation with Willow and to (as he puts it to himself) alleviate his guilt.

All of the above is solid, featuring the best parts of Xander – he is trying hard to do the right thing, struggling with his instincts, at peace with the trouble he lands himself in. These are aspects of Xander we’ve seen before, although never quite with this clarity. But from this point on, things get much more interesting, as Xander sees Angel, alive and well – and then sees Buffy and Angel kissing.

Now this is a potent revelation. Xander was, throughout the previous season, the only one who opposed Buffy’s relationship with Angel. Giving the discovery to him is a clear callback to this. However, his response is not to simply blunder in and confront them. Instead, he hurries to Giles, which is unquestionably the best possible thing to do in the situation.

Giles makes the call to stage a kind of intervention with Buffy, and Xander’s first words here are compelling:
Buffy: It’s not what you think.
Xander: Hope not. Because I think you’re harboring a vicious killer.

This is a side of Xander we’ve seen from time to time, most memorably in episode two this season when Xander dressed Buffy down for how her behaviour had affected her friends. There, his anger seemed unfair and unkind, although perfectly understandable and human. Here, it stings because he makes a very good point, and he continues to hammer it home, even naming Jenny Calendar.

Let’s be clear about what the show is doing, here: it is not saying Xander is right. None of the other characters are as upset as he is, even Cordelia, and most of them are taken aback by the cruel way he is making his point. And yet, no-one contradicts him, and everyone else is making watered-down versions of the same complaint. When Buffy challenges Xander, accusing him of being motivated by jealousy, the rebuke just doesn’t work – while not even Xander would reasonably deny there might be jealousy in the mix somewhere, his behaviour clearly comes from a different place. Xander doesn’t even need to defend himself, as he is overtaken by the final word from Giles, who echoes Xander’s words: “Nor shall I remind you that you’ve jeopardized the lives of all that you hold dear by harboring a known murderer. But sadly, I must remind you that Angel tortured me… for hours… for pleasure. You should have told me he was alive. You didn’t. You have no respect for me, or the job I perform.”

This is, quite frankly, an incredible sequence, drawing on two seasons of character and story to find powerful fractures and put them under pressure, and Xander’s right at the heart of it. His flaws are vividly on display but for the first time in a while he’s doing something, pushing hard in a direction, and it works well.

We next see Xander at the Bronze, shooting pool and talking with Faith. This is a startling little sequence, as Xander’s dialogue is in a different register to anything we’ve heard before. He is normally extremely verbose (the default for many Buffyverse characters) but here he’s using clipped sentences with the blunt almost-poetry of a noir character. This matches his behaviour: he goes out of his way to point Faith at Angel, and offers to join her in going to slay him.

When they get to the library to grab some weapons, they discover Giles has been attacked. Faith instantly assumes it’s Angel, but Xander doesn’t. His instincts – so often used to get him in trouble – here give him exactly the right steer. He figures out some reasons why it probably wasn’t Angel responsible, but Faith of course doesn’t listen to him.

Buffy appears, and here Xander does something unexpected, coldly suggesting Angel was responsible for attacking Giles, and telling her Faith has gone to kill him. Buffy is appalled, but Xander is unrepentant. It’s a very interesting move for the character. He then pitches in to fix the problem, and later puts his body on the line to stop the slayers fighting each other.

His final note in the episode is another encounter with Buffy. She asks him if they are cool, and he tells her he trusts her. He doesn’t apologise for “leaning towards the postal”, and Buffy doesn’t ask one, knowing that he did have a point.

This view of Xander is a fascinating step change for the character. The hardened take on the character works surprisingly well, as does the clear indication that he is no longer thoughtlessly following his instincts (which are obviously improving regardless). Here is a Xander Harris who offers something new to the ensemble – a willingness to call it as he sees it, matched with judgments that are starting to show their worth; a fearless ability to challenge the other characters when he thinks they’re out of line, but founded on a commitment to the work; an egoless acceptance of his role as a goof and goat, which also allows him to say and do things the others wouldn’t even consider. This is a Xander who still brings “instinct” to the table, but does so in a way that is effective and distinctive and can drive situations forward in new and productive ways. The show has finally found a way to make Xander work.

If they can only make it stick…

Other thoughts:
* There’s a bit of a bait-and-switch at the top of the episode – it is called “Revelations” and it starts with Willow and Xander being awkward, but their infidelities are not revealed this week.
* Tony Head steals the open – supervising the Slayer duo and then reacting to the arrival of Gwendolyn Post – all without saying a single word. He also gets the best moment in the episode, Giles giving Buffy a private dressing down for keeping Angel secret and reminding her that Angel tortured him. It’s one of the few times in the series where adult/mature authority is given proper moral power, and it hits hard.
* Giles is once again shown to be somewhat forgotten and mistreated by the council, which continues to make zero sense given he is sitting on a powerful Hellmouth and serving as pointman to a Slayer who just came back from the dead. But it makes thematic sense I guess, so we roll with it.
* Sarah Michelle Gellar, whose soap training makes her an ace at communicating what’s going on in Buffy’s head, absolutely sells Buffy’s raw desire for Angel. It’s actually not a common performance beat for a young woman – they are typically the objects of physical desire, not the ones doing the desiring.
* Oz really doesn’t get much to do this ep, but his band play at the Bronze once again. Cordelia is also shaded out almost completely to allow a focus on the core Scoobies. This has become a big ensemble and it’s hard to manage everyone!

Oral History Linky

Are we at peak oral history? This week: legendary weirdo flop Theodore Rex and the Space Jam website.

An NYT article has been circulating about how today’s creative class are no worse off even though no-one pays for anything any more. I wasn’t convinced by it; Salon has a counterpoint that seems more compelling to me.

Short history of breaking the fourth wall:

This was probably inevitable: Kermit’s TED talk

The AV Club has a link to an analysis of a Star Trek leadership test; they also embed the key movie scene it arises from.

Upheaval continues in my home discipline and in science more generally thanks to a reappraisal of statistical methods and a deeper question about how we establish knowledge at all. Psyc lecturer and stats guru Ron Fischer pointed me at this Nature article: problematic p-values are just the tip of the iceberg; and Retraction Watch has an interview with a methodology prof: Yes, may psychology findings may be too good to be true, now what?

The 1982 DC Comics style guide – lots and lots and lots of lovely clean illustrations by Jose Luis Garcia-Lopez.

And finally, a parental response form for an unusual school fundraiser.

Watching Buffy: s03e06 “Band Candy”

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Headbang/air drum extra-hard to the theme tune, kids, because Jane Espenson is in the house! Espenson is royalty in the world of geek-culture TV-writing, which is not as much of a niche as it sounds when put like that. Anyway, this is the show where she earned her crown (er, because crowns are totally earned, monarchy is a meritocracy, shut up.) Her fingerprints are all over this ep: it is sharply assembled, full of acute character moments, and funny as hell.

This is one of those episodes where everyone goes a bit weird. In this case, some fundraising chocolate carries a lick of magic that sends all the adults in town hurtling back into teenage revelry, leaving the teenage Scoobies to keep everything together and save the day. The adults-acting-immature gags are fun but the juice of this wacky premise is in the show’s three main adult characters. Joyce, Giles, and Principal Snyder fall under the chocolate spell and cutting loose. The reversal is, of course, established pre-chocolate by reinforcing the status of these characters as the responsible voices of restraint in Buffy’s life. Notably, Buffy is caught out by Giles and Joyce who discover she has been lying to both of them to hide private activities. The two adults team up, parent and parental-equivalent, to deliver a clear message to Buffy that she is being immature. Buffy doesn’t want to listen.

It’s a nice little conflict, because both sides have a point. Joyce and Giles are right to be concerned that Buffy is playing them off against each other, and about her actual whereabouts when she is at large. Yet Buffy hasn’t exactly been going out partying – she is secretly going to help and tend to the recovering Angel. This isn’t a secret she feels she can share with the others in her life. While it is arguable whether or not she is being responsible in doing this, it’s hard to make an accusation of immaturity stick. And yet when she is called on it, Buffy reacts by expressing frustration that she is being over-managed and over-scheduled, saying that she feels treated like a child. This isn’t exactly what Buffy is being asked to address, but it feels very plausible for Buffy to respond to the situation in this way – it feels like a smart character beat, in other words.

Then the adults all change and Buffy (with her friends) has to step up and manage the very people who were just managing her. It’s a blast seeing Giles, Joyce, and Snyder as youth gone wild. (Particularly Giles – Tony Head brings the brutal punk-magician Ripper, discussed several times in season two, to vivid life here but very cleverly makes his defining trait vanity. I’m very curious how he landed on that character note, but it is just perfect.)

If you slow down and think about it, what we see does pose a few questions – pretty much all the adults go out of control, although in the real world teenagers display all manner of different behaviours besides hedonic excess, the Scoobies being a case in point. Perhaps the chocolate forces those who eat it into a party mode – in which case, why wasn’t Xander affected? (Well, because it’s a joke about Xander.) Now, I don’t know that this is something the production team ever thought about, but I think there are good answers to these questions. Namely: the adults we see acting out aren’t actually behaving like teenagers again. Instead, they are acting out a middle-aged perspective of what it was like to be young. They are expressing their own stereotypes, like people pulled out of the audience at a hypnosis dinner show. Teen!Joyce and Teen!Giles and Teen!Snyder aren’t meant to be perfect expressions of their teenage years, instead they represent how they presently imagine their old selves.

So this whole line of action, apart from being hilarious to watch, is also a solid reinforcement of a thematic pillar for the whole series: parents just don’t understand. The show has fought from the start to portray its teenage characters with depth and to allow them emotional continuity, and part of that is showing how they are consistently underestimated by the adults and authority figures in their lives. Snyder doesn’t develop empathy for his errant charges as a result of his teenage experience – quite the opposite, it reinforces his dislike and resentment, because he has only had his stereotypes confirmed.

And yet, the funny teenage versions of Giles, Joyce and Snyder all manage to be revelatory about who these characters are, and what complexities and history lie beneath the surface. The teenage Scoobies will never be able to look at any of these adults the same way again. Despite themselves, the Scoobies are saddled with empathy for their authority figures. It’s a lovely trick for the show to do both these narrative jobs with the same conceit!

Anyway, it’s good stuff, and I don’t have much more to say about it because it’s good stuff. The Mayor and Mr Trick are sacrificing babies to a demon, which is a pretty good way to demonstrate to your audience that the bad guy is a bad guy. Ethan Rayne reappears as an instrument of this plan, and he is once again played for comedy, to wonderful effect. Actually, the show misses a trick here – it cuts to commercial-break on the reveal of Ethan Rayne (the first time the show has used an unexplained continuity reference as a climax), and it fails to cut to commercial-break on Giles with a cigarette. So there you go. The episode is flawed after all.

Other thoughts:
* Willow and Xander footsie is painful to watch.
* But topless Angel tai chi is the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.

Taken Linky

Cuz-in-law Jessica Grace Smith is kickstarting her short film, Everybody Else Is Taken. She’s fresh out of the Australian soap mines (Summer Bay variety), and raring to go on a very personal project. It’s looking pretty sweet. I particularly like her commitment to build a crew of women to help chip away at gender imbalances in film & TV industries. Take a look at the video, and think about kicking in a couple of bucks. Come payday, we will be!

The Jemaine Clement song from Rick & Morty, in its entirety

Simon C has written some Anne of Green Gables fan fiction. (“Fanne fic.”) I haven’t read it yet, but I am so looking forward to doing so. NB: “Graphic Depictions Of Violence”

Jenni sent me this: “Ryan North, creator of Dinosaur Comics got stuck in a hole with his dog. Twitter users suggested various ways to manipulate his inventory and eventually he got out

Topical references in Looney Tunes, explained!

Guess Wu: a Wu-Tang version of Guess Who

A look at the Star Wars toys Kenner pitched just before they abandoned the line in the 80s. Some of this is wildly overambitious, some of it is ridiculously half-assed. (The returning villain is a particularly dumb surprise.)

Interesting article on Christian Slater cult classic “Pump Up The Volume”, talking to the many kids who went into radio right afterwards.

That time Fonzie jumped the shark: actually not so bad?

Via Matt C: Alien Kiwi

This Vox piece on Google’s charity/altruist group is fascinating. Their decision about priorities feels like a 1st year philosophy tutorial discussion topic, rather than something real humans would do in the real world, but real humans are endlessly capable of being ridiculous. (via Pearce)

And finally… this fan-made video for the D&D segment of “Harmontown” podcast makes a scary amount of sense. Even non-Harmenians might understand. Might.

Watching Buffy: s03e05 “Homecoming”

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You see it coming, the end of Buffy and Scott. The episode begins with awkward-cute agreeing to go to the homecoming dance together, and Buffy gives Scott a cute kiss – but then cuts straight to Angel. The cut underlines that Buffy isn’t over him. And then Buffy tells Angel she’s seeing Scott, and you know the end is close. But it keeps going, with Buffy talking about how great he is for her – and just as you’re getting exasperated – WE GET IT SHOW WE GET IT – there’s a smash cut to Scott saying “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

And this is before the credits, even. The show knows its game here – the characters don’t get to be happy, but as much as that is predictable, it can still surprise and wrongfoot us. Still, the doom-laden fate of Buffy/Scott, required by her ongoing connection to Angel, is an unpleasant portent for the other Scoobies. That opening scene has Buffy and Scott bring cute together in front of two other couples. In this show, however, a strong relationship is just a disaster waiting to happen, and Scott’s pre-credits dismissal of Buffy is a sign that we shouldn’t get too comfortable with either of those relationships either.

These couples are very different. Willow, of course, is paired with Oz. They are the two nicest characters on the show, and it’s a lovely pairing. Often TV pairs its nice characters with sparkier, dangerous partners as an unexpected plot development and an easy source of ongoing conflict, but Buffy has paired its most sensitive and empathetic character with its kindest and wisest one. There are no obvious sources of conflict between them – Oz’s lack of ambition vs. Willow’s sense of responsibility to one’s potential, perhaps, but that’s not a strong line to chase. Instead, the show has indulged itself with a relationship that exists simply to show happiness on-screen. Willow’s anxious over-thinking plays beautifully alongside Oz’s laconic discernment, and it’s evident how their relationship works, and how they complement and challenge each other without ever being conflicted. There’s a maturity in the show to have such confidence in this relationship – and it’s obviously no accident, given how carefully Oz was introduced. In a show where the characters experience real trauma, putting Oz and Willow on screen is a welcome relief.

Xander, meanwhile, is paired with Cordelia. This is a fundamentally unstable relationship, begun in secrecy and denial, with both parties regularly wondering why they are together. The characters also seem to be on contrary paths in relation to the show as a whole. Cordelia was introduced as a foil for Buffy, proved immediately to be redundant, and twisted in the wind for the whole first season before she was given some character depth and a reason to befriend the Scoobies. She has gone on to become increasingly valuable to the show, her function as truthteller making her an incredibly useful tool for the writers as well as a constantly refreshing presence. She steals scene after scene, and although she never threatens to really be a core character, she is regularly the show’s MVP. Xander, meanwhile, was introduced as a core character, the identification point for every boy in the audience, a point-of-view character whose centrality rivaled Buffy herself. His feelings for Buffy anchored the first season. Throughout season one and two he slowly grew up, not getting over Buffy but finding peace with the fact she didn’t share his interest, and showing his heroism several times, coming through when it counted. But he could never escape some aspects of his character – his thoughtless/instinctive response to problems and threats, and his defensive, anxious masculinity. He screwed up in some unpleasant ways, and as the show’s premise demanded it try harder to live up to its feminist ideals, he continued to be out of step. As Cordelia became more essential to the show, he has become less essential, and even problematic. The show, by this point, was flailing as it tried to find the right way to make Xander work. That flailing reaches a culmination in this episode, with a very risky move indeed.

The episode is mostly played as farce, although the stakes remain life-or-death. Buffy’s setback with Scott leads to the awakening of her “prom queen within” – the otherwise-forgotten backstory that had Buffy as the social elite of her previous school. This was never massively convincing given Buffy’s immediate alliance with the nerds and outcasts in the very first episode, and has only become less comprehensible over the two-seasons-plus since. The episode just shrugs and trusts we’ll go along with Buffy taking on Cordelia to get voted Homecoming Queen, and we do, because seeing Buffy suddenly want something so ordinary is hugely refreshing in contrast to her epic melodramatic trauma saga with Angel.

However, complications arise thanks to Mr Trick, who has set up a Slayer-hunting contest using his contacts in the supernatural world. (Notably, the bad guys are all at the silly end of serious – a returning Lyle Gorch, a patently ridiculous lizard monster, Kraftwerk as high-powered assassins, and a guy named “Jungle Bob”.) Buffy & Cordelia, thrown together in this crisis, find a way to newly respect each other and their mastery of their respective domains. It all plays as buddy comedy, and it’s delightful to see the show’s two best assets playing directly against each other. And the episode finishes on a note that is just perfect – as we see Buffy & Cordy, together at the dance, hear the announcement that there is a tie for Homecoming Queen! Everyone who has ever seen a TV show knows exactly what’s coming next – which is why it’s so satisfying when the show swerve to make two other people we’ve never heard of the joint Homecoming Queens. This is a minor episode for sure, but it plays out so well.

Except. That one move, right?

Willow and Xander are getting ready for the dance together. Getting into their nice clothes. And you can see their friendship, their history together – something the show has never underlined too much so it does feel fresh and light here. And Xander works in this scene, you can see why Willow likes having him around. Xander the friend – there he is! That’s what we’ve been missing!

But the show isn’t done, because part of that friendship was Willow’s love for Xander, and Xander’s borderline-callous romantic disinterest in Willow. And when they see each other dressed up, it’s a shock to them – a “here we are, growing up” moment.

But. The scene keeps going. It’s the longest single scene this episode, the longest in a while in fact. It keeps going, sticking with them as they are drawn to each other. As they get closer and closer, slowly. As they dance. As they lean in. As they, finally, gently, kiss. Taking time so the audience buys the reawakening of that old interest. And it’s believable enough – there are so many reasons why these two characters might spiral back together here. Sure, there are also many, many reasons why they wouldn’t – other paths, happier paths, where their two relationships might carry on allowing all these characters to stay in good places.

But by now we know what the show thinks of paths like that.

So Willow and Xander kiss, and they want to kiss again, and they are conflicted, and it can’t end well, it just can’t, and Xander is suddenly integral to the drama once again. He matters. Simple. The show just needed to wreck the happiness of every one of his friends.

Other notes:
* Trick’s plan is a bit weird. He’s in it to make some cash off contestant deposits, sure, but we just saw Trick excusing himself from a fight when there was nothing in it for him. Whereas here he not only sets up an assassination program against two Slayers, unprovoked – but he introduces it personally with a recorded video, and makes sure all the assassins know who he is so they can give him up. Why would he put a target on his chest in the event a Slayer survives? Why not just leave town? It’s inconsistent with what we’ve seen, but we still don’t know much about Trick, so it isn’t a big ask to let it slide. Also, this is a comedy episode – the rules of logic ease off a little bit here.
* We also get the on-screen introduction of the Mayor, spoken of in portentous tones for some time now. He gets an amazing introduction scene – smiling, polite, worrying about cleanliness and manners while seeing Trick as a potential ally for whatever dark scheme he has underway. The world of Buffy has been expanding for a while and here’s the next layer of the onion.
* Cordelia intimidating Lyle Gorch into running away is about as triumphant a moment as there’s ever been in this show.