Relationships and the Genius of Joss Whedon
Everybody argues about whether it's plot or character that's the source of good fiction. Of course, it's a trick question: the real answer is that there is no real plot that doesn't derive from character and no way to show character except by their reactions to plot. But I'm starting to think both of these miss the point. The works I really and truly adore derive their succulent power from relationships.
My greatest writing hero is Joss Whedon. He's the creator and driving force behind 3 of my favorite dramatic series of all time: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Firefly. The opening sequence of "Serenity", the movie extension of the tragically short-lived Firefly TV series, is a masterpiece of film-making on at least 3 levels: cinematography, economy of language and character development. Joss introduces his entire crew of eight characters,1 tells us what they do on the ship, how they interact and what matters to them in probably the longest single camera shot since Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope".
Oh, yeah... and the whole time the ship is this close to burning up during re-entry.
How does he do it? A classic SF info-dump? Some ninety-second blast of exposition beginning with "As you know, Captain..."? A slow crawl of yellow type yammering on about trade agreements with the planet Naboo? Hell, no.
Arguments. Five of them in a row. Some of them no more than two sentences long. Each as distinct and beautiful as jade chess pieces. What Captain Malcolm Reynolds says to his pilot, his lieutenant, his muscle, his mechanic and the ship's doctor in that single sequence describes the entire dynamic of this crucible called Serenity. It also sets him up as a larger-than-life figure: anyone who can have a coherent argument with his entire crew is a man to be reckoned with. I've talked with people who'd never watched the series, had no idea what they were walking into, but by the end of that scene felt completely at home in the world.2
That scene wasn't an accident. The history of all three series3 bears out this credo: it ain't got a thing if the ensemble ain't got that swing.
Author Jenny Crusie has two brilliant essays on her website about the work of Joss Whedon and reading them really brought home for me why Buffy and Angel are so addicting.4
No man is an island. True. But even if one was5 there wouldn't be anything to say about them! People are only people by their relationships with other people. This is in part about conflict, sure, but people agreeing with one another can be a defining moment, especially when you can feel their hearts breaking as they do it.
Let's take Cordelia Chase, for instance. A minor character in the early days of Buffy, Cordy became a central figure for most of Angel's run. By the end,6she was my favorite of the cast and her swan song episode possibly my favorite of the run.
Taken alone, Cordy is a shallow, self-absorbed beauty queen that deserved all the loathing the Buffy cast lumped on her. But through her interactions with the other characters, her "layers" begin to show and she matures into a real hero and a real woman. Her perpetually-bemused relationship with Xander Harris on Buffy, then later with Grue on Angel forced her to face the fact that perhaps her goals in life "marry rich, divorce richer" weren't actually where her joy was after all. By the time her relationship with Angel begins to develop, she is -- and we are -- ready for it to be as powerful as it deserves.
The complicated relationship between Buffy and her Watcher/father figure/punching bag Giles is another example. By the legendary musical episode "Once More With Feeling" in the sixth season,7 he realizes his role as her surrogate father at almost the same moment that he must step aside in order for her to become a woman. His duet with Tara (who expresses similar torment over her doomed relationship with Willow) "Wish I Could Stay" peaks with the line "Believe me, I don't want to go... And it'll grieve me 'cause I love you so..." If that doesn't break your heart, you don't have one.
I could beat this into the ground -- it's possible I already have -- by talking about Buffy and Spike, Spike and Dru, Angel and Xander8 or Willow and magic. The examples are strewn across the Buffyverse like semi-precious stones. Joss didn't put them there as lessons, he put them there to tear your heart out and make you beg for more, but that doesn't mean we can't learn from him anyway.
The cult of conflict states: they must fight to keep our interest. Interest is not enough: it sells our creative birthright short by a mile. I say: it's how they fight that makes us fall in love.
- The ship Serenity herself is the eighth [↩]
- Let me take a few seconds to let my heart stop pounding. Honestly, the guy's a rock star. [↩]
- Abbreviated as Firefly's was
[↩] - My wife and I inhaled them on DVD, two and three episodes every night for months. [↩]
- Tom Hanks in Castaway, for instance [↩]
- I won't steal Ms. Crusie's thunder by discussing the last half-season. Read the essay. [↩]
- Don't get me started; we'll be here all night.
[↩] - No, that's not what you think; they're just both in love with Buffy [↩]