BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
"Primeval," by David Fury
review by David Hines
rating: **
Well, thank Ghod *that's* over with.
The Initiative is dead. Its men are either dead or being debriefed and
sworn to secrecy; its underground headquarters will be filled with
concrete. "Burn it down, gentlemen," says the Man In Charge. "Burn it
down and salt the earth." That sounds about right to me, even if I wonder
how they're going to handle the order on that. Do they burn it down
first, then fill it with concrete and salt the earth; or burn it down,
salt the earth, and fill it with concrete; or fill it with concrete, salt
the earth, and then burn it; or fill it with concrete, burn it, and then
salt the earth; or...
Of course, it doesn't matter; he's speaking metaphorically. Though I have
to admit the sentiment isn't a bad idea, and would go so far as to suggest
they salt the earth twice, for good measure. If you're guessing I've
hated the whole Initiative storyline -- you're right! And you obviously
haven't been reading my reviews for the season up to this point, or you
wouldn't have to guess. The Initiative has been an incredibly lame
plotline, with a lame introduction and lame development. All it has been
missing is a lame capper -- but no more. "Primeval" fills the void.
It's not that David Fury doesn't try; he does, and makes a fairly valiant
attempt for a man who's been tossed a big ball of suck. But he has two
things going against him. First off, he's been tossed a big ball of suck.
Fury's got to wrap up a storyline that's ill-conceived and dull, dispatch
a major villain who (despite being well-acted) never made much of an
impression, and resolve character conflicts that were never really
explored much, or at all well, in the first place. There really isn't a
way for him to win here. Even if he busts his tuchis, reaches deep, and
rises to the occasion with a spectacular diving catch and throw to the
plate, there's no escaping the fact that what lands in his mitt is still
going to be a big ball of suck. Even if Fury does a bang-up job, the
result is not going to thrill.
The second problem... is that Fury *doesn't* do a bang-up job.
Oh, he does okay for a man who's got a big ball of suck to work with. He
gets off some good lines and some very cute bits; he writes the characters
as fairly smart; he lets Xander show some life. Unfortunately, except for
the last, all of that is confined to the first half of the show, after
which the episode is as lame as the season arcs it wraps up. Some of this
is only partly Fury's fault; the "Slayerettes being driven apart" angle
has been done so ineffectively over the season that the writers have had
to hammer it on in the past couple of episodes to let us know that yes,
they were *trying* to do something, and they hadn't just forgotten quality
screen time for the supporting characters *really.* Accordingly, Fury
doesn't have much choice but to make his resolution of the mess clumsy,
hammering the plotline home even as he resolves it. The characters saying
there have been problems substitutes for the problems' adequate
development onscreen; this is essentially the writers saying to the
audience, "Look, guys, we were *trying* to do something here, dammit."
Yes, I think they were; but they failed rather impressively, and rubbing
our noses in it now doesn't help.
Some of the problems with the episode, however, *are* Fury's fault (or
Joss Whedon's). For instance, that far-too-on-the-nose conversation takes
place... where? If you've seen it, you know, but if you haven't, you
won't believe it: halfway down an elevator shaft! And not just any
elevator shaft, either. No, this particular heart-to-heart takes place in
the elevator shaft that leads to the headquarters of the Initiative, and
our heroes have this touching chat *while they are rappelling down the
wall.*
You think that breaking into a top-secret military facility is something
best done with some degree of speed and stealth, and that it's probably
not a good idea to take time out for a Heartfelt Conversation while you're
doing it, especially if you're breaking in through an entrance that you
know is heavily monitored and is in fact THE FRONT DOOR? Not our heroes!
They're actually *surprised* to find several soldiers waiting for them
with zap guns just inside the Initiative. (They are, however, still
smarter than the Initiative, especially MacNamara, who is written in full
"military moron" cliche mode.)
There's a lot of that kind of thing in the episode: bits here and there
that get a couple of points for cuteness, which are then outright
obliterated by large penalties for utter stupidity. A particular favorite
of mine is the latest bit of chips-all-around. Yes, you knew I'd get to
him sooner or later: everybody's favorite commando, Rank Sweatsock! It's
a kick watching his implanted chip force him to obey as Adam tells him to
sit, stay, speak, shut up, in part because I've wished I could make Stiff
Crotchpole shut up on pretty much a regular basis since his inception.
(Hey, can we get one of those chips for Buffy, too?) But then, of course,
as we've seen a billion mind-controlled heroes do in a billion movies and
TV shows and comic books before, Bland Coldcuts overcomes his programming
enough to struggle against it. Although ordered to remain still, he
torturously reaches for a nearby shard of glass, cuts a hole in his chest,
reaches in *with his fingers,* and yanks the chip out. There's a MAN for
you, folks!
How much of a man is he? We're told that the chip in Lance Guardrail's
chest is "on the thoracic nerve." I'm guessing they mean the long
thoracic nerve. The good news is that it doesn't ennervate anything
absolutely critical -- it goes to serratus anterior, which originates on
the ribs and serves to stabilize and pronate the scapula -- so that even
if he rips the nerve right out, the worst Trip Faceplant is going to wind
up with is a winged shoulderblade. The bad news is that the long thoracic
nerve runs deep to pectoralis major and minor. To get to it, Chip
Rockpile (if his anatomy matched normal human, which, based on where he
cut and probed on the show, it doesn't) would have to cut *through* both
muscles, stick a couple fingers in the hole, widen it, feel around, find
the blood-slicked chip, get a grip on it -- and if there's anyone who's
not feeling faint at the mere prospect, savvy this: not only does he rip
the sucker out, he does NOT keel over in shock from the trauma and
attendant blood loss. No, *he stands up and fights.* (Anybody feeling
nostalgic for the days when we only had to extend our suspicion of
disbelief to the honest-to-goodness supernatural?)
Anyway, the fights are good; there's certainly a hell of a lot of action
and stunts, and most of it is pretty impressive, especially considering
TV's limited time and budget. There are some directing flubs; several
times, especially when the action is in a wide shot, director James
Contner's framing cramps the style and makes it look as if less is going
on than it actually is. He does include some decent long and medium shots
of one-on-one fights, though, especially in the final battle between Buffy
and Adam, which at its best lets us see Sophia Crawford getting off some
of the tastiest moves she's had all season. At its worst... well...
Conceptually, it bites. To give Buffy the wherewithal she needs to defeat
Adam, the Slayerettes perform a ritual that gives her their combined
powers (Giles's knowledge, Willow's magick, Xander's spirit) and throws in
all the mojo that ever juiced all the Slayers just for good measure. The
ritual boosts Buffy's strength and speed tremendously, and also gives her
the useful power to evaporate bullets with very pretty MATRIX-style
effects, and the useful ability to transmute larger missiles into doves,
as well as some other nifty things. Plus, when she rips out Adam's
uranium core, she's able to fold space-time to make it wink out of
existence. (Obviously, Xander has been holding back on us.) Just in case
anyone was doubting it, you see, *Buffy does need her friends, because she
is stronger and more firm of purpose when the Slayerettes are united.* The
theme isn't just hammered mercilessly, as in the elevator shaft; it's
beaten to death.
Still, the ham-handedness has a certain twisted symmetry to it. After
all, Joss Whedon has remarked a number of times that the WB's CHARMED
survives by doing riffs on BUFFY; in a warped way, it's sort of amusing to
see this limping season of BUFFY returning the favor.
(At least until Spike returns a few seconds later, and the Slayerettes,
who *know* full well what he's been up to, and that the *only* reason
he's doing anything to help them is so he can live to kill again someday,
decide that because he saved their lives solely to avoid being staked,
they can't rightly stake him -- oh, *ghod.*)
The good news: it's over. And in a sad, fitting way, this season's story
arc has been given the send-off it deserves. A few sparkles. Some good
performances. A good chunk of sheer stupidity. But mostly, ultimately,
*cripplingly*... "Primeval" is simply *lame.*
Joss Whedon doesn't need the remaining episode this season for a coda. He
needs it to apologize.
The ground. Salt.
*Twice.*
--
David Hines
