 |
|
|
Once More, With Feeling (Ep. 6.7)"Sing Your Life" If there's one thematic touchstone in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (other than, say, "dads are bad" or "love hurts"), it's that everything comes down to communication. Over and over, it's demonstrated that the worst tragedies tend to occur when communications break down. Secrets kept, feelings repressed, bitterness unexpressed... all lead to the sort of pain and heartache that could have been avoided had everyone involved just opened their damn mouths, spit out what was on their minds, and told each other the truth. And wonderfully, it's exploring these kinds of problems brings out Joss Whedon at his most experimental. What do you do when words fail you? In "Once More, With Feeling," well... you sing. . . . The long-awaited musical episode serves the same function in the Buffy series as Season 4's brilliant "Hush" - an unusual gimmick helps the characters learn things they would not have otherwise learned. In the case of "Hush," the impasses between characters were broken by silence, forcing them to rely on silent movie-style actions instead of words. Without the barrier of language to get in the way, Xander finally shows Anya that he really does care about her (by physically pounding Spike in the face when he thinks the vampire has hurt her); Willow and Tara make their first connection, combining their magickal energies to fend off the Gentlemen; Buffy and Riley finally see each other for what they really are in the heat of battle, without the cover of their "secret identities" getting in the way. "So everything you ever said was true... scary," muses Giles' girlfriend Olivia, having finally seen with her own eyes the monsters that lurk in the dark. "Too much for you?" Giles asks. "I don't know," she replies, thoughtful. Olivia's reaction is there to remind us that just because it's truth doesn't mean it's easy to deal with. Like magic, truth has... consequences. In "Once More, With Feeling," a singing-and-dancing demon (named Sweet, although it's never mentioned in the episode itself) has come calling on Sunnydale. His presence affects the entire town, causing innermost feelings to burst forth in lyrical terms, complete with appropriate backing music and choreographed dancing. Not that anyone knows this at first, of course. The opening scene shows Buffy strolling through the graveyard, as she is wont to do in the p.m. hours, singing "Going Through the Motions," a song that could best be described as jaunty-miserable, the demons she slays providing hilarous shuckstering backup. Musically, this is one of the most successful songs, its classic Broadway-musical narrative style doing a beautiful job of explaining a key problem of the episode (Buffy's misery) while being thoroughly toe-tapping all the while. (I suspect that may be Joss Whedon himself as the curly-horned demon, but that's just a guess. Nice singing voice.) The next day, the usual group is gathered at the Magic Box. "Last night, did anyone... uh... burst into song?" Buffy asks, hesitantly. A cacaphony of overlapping voices answers her. They'd all experienced something similiar, it seems, but it's hard to pick out one voice, one story, from another. The confused babble of talk (and this device is used several times during the episode, so it's definitely intentional) makes it clear that they aren't really hearing each other, or even saying anything that's worth hearing. Only when they begin singing do their voices - and meanings - become clear and distinct. The songs sung here at the store include "I've Got a Theory," a lilting little group number in which each member of the gang explains their ideas about what the demon might be (with a hard rock detour into Anya's bunny phobia, complete with searchlights and the obligatory flash pots - wow, Emma Caufield sure can belt it out) and the suddenly slow-rock-ballad-like "What Can't We Face," Buffy's resigned answer to the group's guesses about their latest threat. "It doesn't matter" she sings, and as everyone turns to stare at her, she elaborates: "Apocalypse/we've all been there/the same old trip/why should we care." As far as Buffy is concerned, as long as she has the support of her friends, this is just another monster. However, her I-can-barely-care delivery is a reminder that, as in her previous song, all is not right with Buffy. She really doesn't care, and the implications of this are far grimmer than anyone yet realizes. Here, as in other songs in the episode, Sarah Michelle-Gellar's quavering voice actually enhances the impact of her fragile emotional state. (And can I take a moment here to express how glad I am that all of the cast sang for themselves? The revelations in each song are all the more powerful for it.) As the group swings into research mode, Willow and Tara excuse themselves for a little quality couple time, giggling into the sunshine, and inspiring Tara to burst out with "I'm Under Your Spell." Amber Benson is the surprise singing standout of the cast - her sweetly powerful voice makes the song's double meaning (we know from from Willow's "forget" charm that Tara is indeed "under her spell") that much more poignant. Tara has blossomed in her relationship with Willow, her love has made her stronger. (And racier as well - Lost in ecstacy/spread beneath my Willow tree/you make me complete...you make me..." she sings breathily during a pretty clearly spelled out lesbian lovemaking scene. UPN, you have my respect.) One by one, the secrets come out. Xander and Anya wake in the morning to perform a Fred-and-Ginger style duet (complete with '30s-style pajama outfits, the Charleston, and laughing finale). The issues here are their various insecurities about their impending marriage. They love each other, sure, and can rattle off each other's good points... but they can do the same for all the bad ones. The song's title, "I'll Never Tell," goes right to the heart of the problem - they're heading into something that they both feel unsure about yet are unwilling to discuss openly. "The sun sets and she appears," Spike sighs, as Buffy appears at his crypt that night. He's toting a bottle and seems less than happy to see her. The reason why becomes obvious a minute later when, after claiming that he's immune to the music thing, and attempting to get her leave (and with a resigned shake of his head), he begins to sing himself. And unlike the supportive Spike of recent memory, nothing he has to say is going to make her feel better. He tells her that she's scared. That she only talks to him because she can't open up to her real friends without hurting them. That she's using him. That just being with her, trying to be her friend, hurts him almost more than he can take. That he wishes she would just go away and leave him alone. "Rest in Peace" is another of the episode's standout songs. Though not quite as strong vocally as Amber Benson or the miraculous Anthony Head (more on this later!), James Marsters has a very pleasant singing voice, if a bit wavery in spots, and stays thoroughly in character. But it's the impact of what's being said that sticks in the mind from this one - so much so that I couldn't help wishing that this scene has been acted straight instead of sung, fun funeral crashing and grave-falling-into notwithstanding. A musical in the grand old tradtion would typically balance its songs with traditional drama and/or comedy (for a comtemporary example, Moulin Rouge), and this is one of the places where I felt that, as good as this episode was at 70 minutes, it would have been absolutely amazing at two hours, with a little more room in between the numbers. Anyway, back to the story. Since her return from death, Spike has tried very hard not to crowd Buffy. As a symptom of her estrangement from her friends, Spike has become the only one she can talk to - her confidant, her confessor, the sympathetic friend who's willing to listen, to give her whatever she needs. In "Rest in Peace," he tells her how just hard this is for him, something you get the distinct impression he would have kept from her for a good long time... maybe forever. He has other disturbing things to say: "you know/you got a willing slave/but you just like to play the thought/that you might misbehave." Buffy is toying with him. "I know I should go/but I follow you like a man possessed." His own better judgement tells him to leave her, but he can't. Most significantly, "I died so many years ago/but you can make me feel/like it isn't so." She makes him feel alive. But he's "only dead" to her. Buffy can't handle all of this. She runs. Back at the Summers' home, thanks to a conversation with Dawn about an argument she no longer remembers, Tara is beginning to figure out what Willow has done. She goes to the Magic Box to confirm her suspicions, leaving Dawn alone... just long enough for Sweet's henchmen to kidnap her. Dawn's plaintive beginnings of a song "Does anybody even notice/does anybody even care?" show that Michelle Trachtenberg does indeed have a nice voice, but like the rest of this season so far, Dawn has little role to play here beyond that of hostage. She does, however, get a marvelous dancing scene at the Bronze, where Sweet and his minions are holed up. Dressed in a pale blue sleeveless tank, black pedal pushers, and ballet flats, she looks like the second coming of Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face, but when the music ends, she's face-to-face with Sweet, all red face, smooth voice, and styling zoot suit. He sings that she summoned him and now he plans to make her his bride... until he hears Dawn reply that the Slayer is her sister. Now he just wants to the see the Slayer dance until she spontaneously combusts, and sends his minions to see to it. (Love the minions - their faces look like plastic Richard Nixon masks, like the bank robbers in the surfer movie Point Break.) Back at the Magic Box, Buffy is training with Giles. There's a funny exchange about how this could "turn into some training montage from an '80s movie." Actually, it turns into a musical soliloquy for Giles, as he sings "Standing in the Way," about how Buffy is abandoning her responsibilities because he is always there to take on her burdens for her. Even more than that - "The cries around you, you don't hear at all/'cause you know I'll be there to take that call" - she's become selfish. She's given up really caring about anyone else's pain. Giles comes to the grim conclusion that if Buffy is to face her future, he will have to leave her to stand on her own. This song is (gush alert) absolutely wonderful. Anthony Stewart-Head's musical background in fronting for the Rocky Horror Show comes through loud and clear - he has a beautiful, resonant, sexy singing voice. (And he has a solo CD out - Music For Elevators, order yours today!) In true musical tradition, Buffy hears nothing of his heartfelt confession... again illustrating Buffy's obliviousness to the suffering of others. Giles' song soon combines with Tara's heartbreaking redux of "I'm Under Your Spell" to become "Wish I Could Stay." Devasted by Willow's betrayal, she too realizes that her days in the group are numbered. Connecting Tara and Giles musically here is brilliant - it gives much-overdue emphasis to these two characters, who normally exist rather quietly in the background, and more importantly, it underlines how each song has built on the one before it, like links in a chain. One by one, each member of the gang is becoming isolated from the others. The unified front that faced Glory is rapidly crumbling. Finally, Sweet's henchman arrives to issue the demon's challenge to the Slayer, and Giles shocks Buffy by telling her to face Sweet alone. Feeling hurt and abandoned, Buffy stares at her friends numbly. "You're really not coming," she states. They really aren't. Only Spike offers to come with her. She glares at him coldly. "I thought you told me to stay away from you," is her sullen answer. "Fine," he grates. "I hope you dance til you burn." He leaves, and Buffy walks out to meet her fate. The two songs to follow, the ensemble number "Walk Through the Fire" and Buffy's solo number for Sweet, "Life's a Show," both make it clear that Buffy has reached a crisis point. "I touch the fire and it freezes me/I look into it and it's black" she sings. She feels dead inside. She's cut off emotionally from her friends; they are lost to her. No matter that they all eventually pick themselves up and follow her to the battle anyway - she feels utterly alone. But she goes without hesitation because it's all she knows to do anymore. Essentially, Buffy has given up. She's ready to die again. To quit. She says as much to Sweet, offering to go to the underworld in Dawn's place. "What if I kill you?" the demon asks. "Trust me. Won't help," she replies. Buffy's song for Sweet, "Life's a Show," is a strange, dissonant number - pretty in an odd way, its lyrics deceptively perky but dripping with sarcasm. "Where there's life there's hope/every day's a gift/whistle while you work" - these are the kind cliches that are often doled out to cheer up an unhappy person, and the continuation of this line - "so hard, all day/to be like other girls/to fit into this glittering world" - provides the context. Buffy's life has become sheer artifice, unreal. "A show" where she simply has a part to play. But she's tired of her role, and the play. The songs lyrics become more and more pointed, to a vicious irony that cuts like knives - "Life's a song/you don't get to rehearse/and every single verse/makes it that much worse." Finally, she expresses the horror she's held back for so long - that she was pulled out of heaven. Sarah Michelle-Gellar's nearly toneless delivery of these words (wonderful!) sends shivers up the spine. But though drowning in her pain, Buffy tries one last time to hang onto life. "Give me something to sing about," she begs Sweet. He sadly shakes his head, and she jumps from the stage to begin her frantic dance of death. What does it mean that Buffy's lethal dance is stopped by Spike? "Life's not a song/life isn't bliss/life is just this/it's living," he sings. "You have to go on living/so one of us is living." Dawn reinforces this by repeating Buffy's own words to her from "The Gift" - "The hardest thing in this world is to live in it." For Buffy, living is now so hard that she needs a dead man to tell her what it means to be alive. So Buffy's crisis is averted...for now. But there are rifts in the gang that were not there before. "Where do we go from here/Why is the path unclear?" they sing after Sweet's departure - his parting gift to them, this last chance to open up "once more, with feeling." "Understand we'll go hand in hand/but we'll walk alone in fear" - painful secrets have been told. Willow and Tara's relationship is now on a rocky path. Xander and Anya now doubt each other's commitment. (And what was Xander thinking to summon the demon in the first place? Why didn't he say anything before his friend nearly died?) Giles is prepared to walk away from Buffy for her own good. And Spike walks away even as the song is still going. Buffy follows him. "You should go back inside," he tells her with a tired sigh. "Finish the big group sing." But Buffy isn't hearing it. She begins to sing again, drawing closer. Spike begins to sing in return. They both want to feel. They do. The curtains close on a kiss. Now...where do we go from here?
|
|