Joss and I are on a break

I really didn't want it to come to this.

Just to be clear, Joss Whedon owes me nothing. I am not one of those fans who believes the object of their affection/devotion/obsession is under any obligation to please. Joss can make any show/movie/blogisode extravaganza he wants and I will love Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Serenity and Dr. Horrible no less for it. Call it his creative right. He doesn't owe me (or anyone) the greatest television show ever created. He's already delivered on that front.

That being said, it's time I broke my silence about Dollhouse, Fox's latest ploy to fulfill their outstanding contractual obligation to Eliza Dushku and (once again) take down the Jossverse. Except this time (dare I say it) when they cancel it (and they will cancel it), it probably will deserve to be cancelled. Never did I think I would utter such words.

It almost doesn't seem worth it to go through the many reasons why this is the case. Anyone who has endured the first three episodes out of respect for the Whedon empire (and the man himself) have not had to dig too far to discern what's not working. It's flashy, it's mainstream, it's humourless, it's procedural. It takes itself entirely too seriously and has forgotten how to laugh (did it ever know how?). It stars and is produced by Dushku. It backs off and reverts to form on the brink of pushing its own limits. It's the perfect counterpoint to everything Joss has created in the past with the ironic twist that it is, in fact, also his creation.

In the name of thoroughness, let me take a moment to more carefully outline these, Dollhouse's problems:

1) Eliza. Everyone loved Faith because she gave us an antidote to Buffy just before we collectively realized we would need one. Sure, she was never the best actress but Buffy was never about the best acting and Faith was sassy and fun and hot and not-Buffy and it was a great ride and great to have her along for it.

Echo, on the other hand, is a non-entity (literally). Eliza as Echo is Eliza with doe-eyes. Echo as hostage negotiator is Eliza with glasses. Echo as party date girl is Eliza/Faith in a short dress, writhing to the music. Echo as singer...well, despite her average vocal abilities, Echo as singer is downright painful, with a hint of Missy Pantone, the Eliza incarnation from Bring It On. I think I've made my point. Eliza has no depth; she's cardboard. One doesn't even have to leave the Jossverse to find suitable, more capable replacements (Summer Glau, Amy Acker, Alexa Davalos). But of course, Dollhouse never would have existed without Dushku's contract. Which brings me to...

2) Turning Joss's creative process on its head. Let us take a moment to reflect on the genesis of Dollhouse. Eliza got Tru Calling. Tru Calling got the axe. Fox had Eliza and together they still had a contract. Eliza still had Joss's number. Joss had dinner, Eliza had an idea, Joss had more ideas about Eliza's idea and then Fox had a show. Fox and Joss had an agreement and now Fox has Dollhouse...for now.

What exactly am I saying? Call me old-fashioned but it is rarely a good idea to create art because someone asks/pays you to. Sure, there have been instances where this has worked. Some people require a push, some things created within the constraints of circumstances of expectation are better for it and some would have been as good regardless. In this case, however, I think the equation has failed: failed Fox, failed Joss and failed the fans. Eliza asked Papa Joss to build her a dreamhome...and then she burnt it down. But maybe the house was particularly flammable. Maybe Joss didn't have enough time to build it the way he should have. Maybe it's a blueprint he never would have considered endorsing, bringing to life, had Eliza not asked in the first place.

Enough with the metaphors. Suffice to say that Joss made Dollhouse for the wrong reasons.

3) Forgetting to laugh. Take a moment to ponder the following images:

• Buffy, Xander and Willow performing Oedipus Rex.
• Wash's epic, Star Trek-like speech...eventually revealed to be voiceover for his control board plastic dinosaur mise-en-scène.
• Spike observing Angel from above, mocking his heroism and his hair gel.
• Dr. Horrible explaining the importance of the evil laugh (or terrible death whinny, depending on the gen(i)us of the evil mastermind in question).

In sum, Joss knows how to make us laugh. Not only that, he knows how to call attention to something we wouldn't normally laugh at and expose its ridiculousness and hidden hilarity. If Dollhouse had been created in the 80s, I guarantee Buffy would have made some offhand, satirical comment about it at some point in Sunnydale High's library. Without wit we're left with wit's referent; of the wit-which-was and the wit-which-could-have-been.

4) Someone other than Joss could have created it. This is probably my least favourite explanation for Dollhouse's failure, but perhaps the most accurate. I would not have believed you had you told me a year or two or more ago that I would find myself watching a new Joss Whedon show which included some or all of the following things (and more): a Lady Gaga song*, an episodic appearance of a pop singer struggling with the demands of superstardom, a wise ass supporting man who isn't funny (in the vein of Xander, Andrew, Doyle, Spike, Wash, Jayne, etc.) a big budget.

*Granted, a year or two or more ago, I would not have known who Lady Gaga was. Oh, the past was sweet.

I guess in some ways this point is related to #2. I get that it's a different show. I get that Joss can't simply remake Buffy over and over again. But I don't think Buffy=Angel=Firefly (certainly not). And I don't think it's a bad thing to have a style. Especially when your style is Josstyle (teehee- see, I can still lighten up!).

I am trying to decide if it is my Whedonite duty next week to tune in or to tune out. Shouldn't fans be questioning, be discerning? Shouldn't they challenge what they see? I think definitely yes. But what this means for my plans next Friday at 9...well, that has yet to be determined.

The one about me winning my first Oscar pool

Anyone who watches Friends "gets" my title. I don't really watch Friends, or like it all that much.* And actually, I get a little frustrated when people title their Facebook photo albums in this manner (seriously, I have multiple "friends" who do so). Regardless, I present you "The one about me winning my first Oscar pool."

*There is one exception to this statement. In an early episode Phoebe gets possessed by some old lady who intends to inhabit her body/mind until she has seen everything. Cue lesbian wedding. Despite the homophobic overtones of this episode, the point at which Phoebe, witnessing the union between woman-woman, screams out, "Now I have seen everything!", purging her of her ghostly possessor, still makes me laugh hysterically.

I have watched and loved the Academy Awards my entire life. Okay, this is not entirely accurate, but I have been watching and loving them for a really long time. (I have definitely watched the entire telecast every year since 1996. Before that, I admit, my viewership was a little more spotty. I was 10, 9, 8, 7...and foolish.) Last year was the first year I put my Oscar adoration to the test by hosting an Oscar party and organizing an Oscar pool. Before then I would usually watch the Oscars alone (which is delightful, but in a different way) and compete in online Oscar pools which I would always lose. I would have a favourite or combination of favourites (1998 - Matt and Ben for the Good Will Hunting screenplay and (sorry) Titanic, 1999 - Malick's unrecognized The Thin Red Line, 2000 - probably a combination of Girl, Interrupted, The Sixth Sense and (sorry once again) 'NSync (they performed the nominated "Music of the Heart"...I will never live down the shame), 2001 - Erin Brockovich (and Soderbergh), Almost Famous (and Crowe), the entirely underappreciated, greatest film ever, Wonder Boys and Dancer in the Dark, 2002 - at the time probably only Jennifer Connelly in A Beautiful Mind, though I would later come to LOVE Moulin Rouge!, Amélie, Gosford Park and Memento, 2003 - CHICAGO (especially Catherine Zeta Jones who I remember really wanting to win), 2004 - anything but the third and final installment of Lord of the Rings which Peter Jackson really should have considered editing (and won for editing), 2005 - KATE in Eternal Sunshine, CLIVE in Closer and either CATE (in The Aviator, who won) or Natalie (in Closer), 2006 - Reese in Walk the Line and Brokeback, but definitely NOT Crash (fuck Crash, the most undeserving Best Picture winner in the history of the Oscars), 2007 - Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson, KATE in Little Children, the screenplays for Little Miss Sunshine, Little Children and Children of Men (where was Clive's nomination this year?) and the look of Pan's Labyrinth) but mostly it was about simply basking in Oscar's glow. I have always loved the telecasts unconditionally and intend to do so as long as they keep airing them.

[Just to note:

Last year (2008) - Javier Bardem and/or Josh Brolin for No Country (except Brolin wasn't nominated), CATE in I'm Not There, something for Sweeney Todd and I guess I did sort of want to see Diablo Cody win for Juno

This year (2009) - KATE (The Reader) and Mickey (The Wrestler)...oh and Bruce Springsteen's "The Wrestler" (not nominated), The Dark Knight and Nolan for The Dark Knight (not nominated, not nominated), Howard/Zimmer for The Dark Knight's movie-making score (not nominated) and KATE (again) for Revolutionary Road (not nominated)]

The meaning of Oscar has changed now with the advent of my party. For one, the weekend leading up to Sunday night is considerably busier. Pajamas are no longer suitable attire, and I'm usually buzzing (and not just on Oscar-related adrenaline) by mid-telecast. There is also the slight change of having, like, 20 people around as I laugh, cry, yell, pout, celebrate and delight in every last second. And of course, there is the pool.

I didn't win last year. I came pretty close, top five or something like that. But I totally didn't win. I guess it wasn't all that shocking as I tend to cave and pick with my heart (aw) and I was also somewhat relieved that the pool creator didn't suspiciously walk away the victor. I was still very pleased with the pool, as it turned out to be an excellent way to keep otherwise only mildly interested Oscar viewers glued to the set.

This year, however...this year, I ruled. I ruled and won. I still can't decide whether Kate finally winning an Oscar or me finally winning a pool was more exciting, but either way I am talking about some serious excitement. In terms of categories, I only slipped up on two: Best Actor (Sean, not Mickey...curse you, heart!) and Best Foreign Language Film (but let's be honest, no one saw that coming). Otherwise I did moderately well on the generalized questions I had included in the pool; questions about the In Memoriam video, Hugh Jackman's hosting, whether or not anyone would thank Obama and/or the Academy and so on.

I could go through and offer a blow-by-blow summary of the night and what I liked about it, but you can find something similar on any of the entertainment websites/blogs. I thought Jackman did a pretty good job and personally I loved the musical number choreographed by Baz, probably because I love Baz and musical numbers and this one made me smile. The actor-on-actor (that sounds dirty) nomination introductions were a little lengthy and awkward but the nominees seemed really touched by them so I suppose I would vote for their continuation (in a, perhaps, somewhat edited-down format?). The "Romance," "Action" and "Drama"-style videos were ridiculous and awful, with the exception of the Apatow-directed "Comedy" (anything involving James Franco is always a winner). The grouping of boring (I mean, lower profile) categories was a great idea but the lame people selected to present multiple awards were not (I'm talking about you, Will Smith, Sarah Jessica). The seating arrangement was fine and the sparkly blue curtains were either horribly or wonderfully retro, I have yet to decide. Tina Fey and Ben Stiller were hilarious. Kate Winslet won the night and Kate Winslet's dad is a very impressive whistler under pressure.

I think that is all I will say about this year's Academy Awards. Once again I had a fabulous time and I will no doubt be back next year. As for my bathroom mirror acceptance speech, I give it ten years until you finally get to hear it, at which time I will compare solo Oscar parties to group Oscar parties and pools to attending the event itself, and emerging victorious.

My absence: explained (Alternate title: Excuses)

Where to begin? Over a month ago I wrote about not writing and about submitting my earlier blog posts to my creative writing group for feedback. Since then? Silence. Here are a few reasons why.

I have been busy?
I can't say for sure that this is actually true, but seems a logical enough explanation. There was the Super Bowl (I picked wrong) and I threw a huge party for that. There was the creative writing meeting...and the next creative writing meeting. Just the other night the Oscars (!), for which I also hosted a big party (look for more Oscar-related commentary in my next post...hopefully). I have been working, I have been visiting friends, I have been working. Sure, I have been busy.

I was intimidated?
My writing group was great to give me feedback, and while none of it was "bad" per say, our discussions on blogging made me a little gun shy (yes, I just used the phrase "gun shy"). Apparently the first rule of blogging (like the first rule of Fight Club, only not) is never to blog about blogging. Well, you may have noticed, I do this a lot. The second rule...is never to blog about blogging (okay, enough with the FC references). The third rule (for argument's sake) is to ground one's blog thematically, making it more accessible and identifiable for (potential) readers.

So I stopped blogging for several weeks, having decided that my blog was going nowhere. That is until I realized that destination: nowhere was probably what I loved most about my silly little blog with a Buffy-quote title and my longtime Buffy screen name (buffyslayergal) embedded neatly in the URL, despite the blog not really being about Buffy at all.

Perhaps one day I will better structure my thoughts and random popcult/insecure author/personal tidbit postings, or expand into additional blogs to allow more room for these (and other) topical presentations, but today is not that day. Today I will talk about anything, everything and nothing and not really care about everyone else. I hope I am not doing so out of some inborn fear of criticism. I think it was my mistake bringing my escapist, meandering drivel to a group of (seriously) talented up-and-coming writers. It was also my own fault for not producing a submission that month in the vein of what was expected, i.e. creative writing. There is nothing creative about this blog. And that's what makes it so easy.

There was nothing to blog about?
Okay, this is probably the least true statement of the three. It would have made sense to follow-up my earlier NFL blogs with some sort of pre- or post-Super Bowl discussion/rant/prediction piece. And it certainly would have made sense to more carefully blog the time leading up to the Oscars (though, for reasons which I will outline later, I could not have posted my picks in advance). Given the Buffy references dotting the peripheries of this blog, I was also inclined to live-blog my minute-by-minute impressions of the Pilot of Joss's new show, Dollhouse (which I still might do, in retrospect). I guess the only truth to this explanation is that, while there were things to blog about, I was concerned that there were no new things to blog about, and my football posts were becoming repetitive, and my award season posts were becoming repetitive, and so on.

I didn't want to blog about not blogging
So if I have openly decided not to follow the cardinal rule of Fight Club blogging, I refuse to ignore the rule-I-have-just-made-up about blogging about not blogging, or spending all of one's time apologizing for not writing sooner or more or more frequently, etc. I used to do this a lot when I kept a diary (I have no idea why) and it has resulted in page after page of me never really saying anything. If I don't really care about the quality, focus or content of my blog, then I shouldn't really care how often I engage in the act of blogging.

Convinced?