My husband and I are finally watching Buffy to see what all the fuss is about.
I don’t know exactly how to describe my reaction to this show. You know how when you first see Firefly, you’re like, ‘‘Holy shit, this is genius, this is amazing, this is rocking my face off, earth-shattering television?’’
Well, that’s exactly how I don’t feel watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
I don’t want anyone to misunderstand me though–I’m definitely hooked. It’s weird, funny, campy, somewhat cleverly satirical and is getting better (We’re on Season 2, Episode 5, just finished the ‘‘Halloween’’ episode where everyone turned into their costume… creative.) The characters are fun, I love Willow, I always loved that actress long before I tried watching the Buffy show. And Giles makes me swoony. Even Angel’s growing on me now that he says more than two words per episode.
I was just under the impression I was in for an epic and complex experience that would defy my previous conceptualization of television. Instead, not gonna lie, I’m getting heavy-handed writing, inconsistent acting and some of the most ridiculous plot-points known to man. I mean, the body count is rising so fast at Sunnydale High School I don’t know why any parent in their right mind would keep their child matriculated there.
The hyena students ate the principal? Really?
No really, I love it. I just don’t love it the way I love Battlestar Galactica or DS9, or, for that matter, Firefly.
I love it the way I loved Are You Afraid of the Dark? when I was a kid. A love no less real, but different, a love built upon a foundation of ridiculous plot points and lovable, predictable characters. Buffy is the popcorn of the television world, but it’s the good popcorn, with the drizzly butter and the perfect amount of salt and maybe a dash of Parmesan cheese.
Am I wrong?