Buffy The Vampire Slayer: The Body (2001)
by Joe Steiff

The cheerleading vampire hunter is halfway through Season 5 and still going strong...

To be honest, I don't remember much before the September premiere of season two. Which leads me to believe that the series was only on the periphery of my television viewing habits. But with the second season premiere, I became a fairly regular viewer, and by the double episode "Surprise/Innocence" I was enthralled. For awhile, I jokingly referred to the series as "My So-Called Vampire Life," hinting at the series' ability to tackle coming-of-age issues within the genre of vampire stories. The material was provocative as well for its themes and ironies more mythic in nature, not the least of which was a slayer of vampires who falls in love with a vampire who has a soul. The series managed to respect its material and constantly push it further, creating a rich tapestry of characters and situations. The finale of season two pretty much sealed my fate as a fan. And Season 2 will probably remain the series' creative peak in many ways. A hard act to follow.

If season 3 was a bit disappointing, the introduction of another new slayer, Faith (Eliza Dushku), kept things interesting. Season 4 ground to a halt. Other than a stylistically daring episode, "Hush" (no dialogue for much of the episode, in effect becoming a silent TV show), it seemed that the series was running out of ideas. A thinly stretched government conspiracy storyline seemed out of place with the more mythic elements of the series, and the casting of Buffy's new boyfriend left a lot to be desired. Though I've never been a big fan of David Boreanaz, who played Angel until spinning off into his own series, at least he and Sara Michelle Gellar had some chemistry. Marc Blucas as Riley Finn was not just a good boy, but a boring good boy. I've never seen good look so boring. Or unappealing.

Season 5 seemed doomed. Season 4 ended on a surprisingly quiet, somewhat vague and extremely warped series of dreams that seemed inspired in equal parts by summarizing the first four seasons (bookending the "Nightmares" episode from season 1), the "power of cheese" commercials and The Wizard of Oz. Though it was working hard to serve as "the ending of the beginning," it seemed frighteningly close to "the beginning of the end." This fear grew stronger as rumors were confirmed that a new "younger family member (sister)" was being introduced to the cast in Season 5, and I pretty much wrote off the series as succumbing to the television equivalent of "let's fix this failing marriage with a baby."

But if that assessment is correct, here's the rare example of such a "fixed" marriage becoming stronger rather than breaking up. Though not really at the feet of the new little sister, Dawn (Michelle Trachtenberg), this current fifth season has been pretty impressive. Dawn's presence has allowed the show to return to some of its adolescent angst, most aggressively surveyed in Dawn's self-mutilation and alienation upon learning that she is, for all intents and purposes, adopted. But the series has been picking up steam again as it has grappled more actively with the relationships (romantic, familial and friendship) that have developed over the years. Riley's departure actually was the most dynamic his and Buffy's relationship has been, which seems to imply that a happy Buffy is a boring Buffy. That may not be entirely fair - Riley/Blucas was just the wrong guy for the job.

More effectively on the pairing home front, the relationships between Willow & Tara (Alyson Hannigan & Amber Benson) and Xander & Anya (Nicholas Brendon & Emma Caulfield) continue to develop and grow. In fact, one of the most moving moments this season so far is Xander's declaration of his love to Anya at the end of the episode in which Riley leaves ("Into the Woods"). Willow and Tara have finally "named" their relationship to the other characters and to viewers, and continue to build on last season's introduction of some disarmingly intimate (not sexual) moments.

Which brings us to the late February 2001 episode, "The Body." Each season has a few duds, but the series' consistency of good writing and directing is pretty remarkable for a weekly series. It has a much higher ratio than, say, The X-Files. Every once in a while, though, Buffy The Vampire Slayer surpasses itself and creates a genuinely great episode. Last year it was "Hush." This season, it's "The Body."

For the first half, there was no doubt in my mind that I was watching one of the best written, acted and directed episodes of weekly television ever, regardless of series or genre or type. Camera movements, editing and sound design accentuated the emotional pull of the scenes. Attention to detail and expression of that detail created an impressive subjective perspective.

To some degree, I was dreading this episode. Buffy The Vampire Slayer has a remarkable history of shuffling its cast, adding and deleting series regulars. And I had some forewarning of this development, so there was no real surprise in killing off the character of Buffy's mother.

I just hadn't expected it to be handled so artfully.

"The Body" is not about dying. It's about grief and all those small moments after death, when the world seems to stop (or seems like it should stop) and yet it keeps going, the ticking clock marked by the increasing pallor of the body. In fact, the death occurs off-screen, and even more remarkable in a series filled with mayhem and death, seems to be of natural causes.

As the episode progresses, the visual style shifts from very dynamic moving camera with jump cuts and asymmetrical compositions to more and more static shots almost perfectly balanced (which feel off-balance in their symmetry). The sound design progresses as well in each act, beginning at the end of each commercial break with almost complete silence, isolating only a single sound (such as the scissors snipping away the body's slip) and gradually letting the sounds of the world intrude on (and sometimes overtake) the images.

Two sequences stand as amazing. The initial sequence with the paramedics is filled with dynamic camera movements, compositions and edits that reinforce and punctuate the internal beats of the scene. The smallest of details become heightened (such as Buffy pulling down her mother's skirt or soaking up her vomit with a paper towel) by the visual and/or sound designs.

The second sequence that is remarkable is in its editing: Dawn's art class on "negative space." Insert shots and cutaways slowly build the tension, mirroring the awkwardness of watching someone's realization and grief from the outside.

The second half (or maybe more accurately the last third) of the episode is less visually dynamic but still daring in its visual strategy: stasis. This shift is heralded with the arrival of Xander and Anya at Willow's dorm room. The stasis is immediately established with the long takes of Willow staring at a blouse, immobilized in making a decision as to what to wear to the hospital. Each character is isolated from the others in their own reactions and fears, but it's Anya's breakdown that is the most painful to watch.

And here's also where the episode begins to bring into balance the series' usual humor and use of metaphor with the gravity of the storyline.

If there's anything in the episode that feels out of place or too derivative of the series as a whole, it's the attack of the vampire at the very end of the episode. It seems unnecessary and rather "attached" as simply a reminder that, oh, yes, we're watching a TV show called "vampire slayer." Though I can rationalize several reasons for inserting this event at the end, ultimately it feels like a misstep in an otherwise flawless episode that exposes and resonates with human behavior.

The final image manages to recover the slight digression of the vampire attack, and when all is said and done, this is one of the most impressive episodes of weekly television I have seen. Not just for its mechanics of visual and aural strategies, but for its raw emotion induced and reinforced by performances, style and content. Buffy The Vampire Slayer may not go down in history as a great television series. Its unusual pacing and rhythm as well as the fact that it is a genre series - and a genre series with a sense of humor - stack the odds against it being taken seriously. However, the series certainly deserves a spot as one of the more consistently well-written shows on television. And for individual episodes like "The Body," episodes of brilliance where all the parts transcend the sum of the individual parts - episodes that have a life and soul of their own, and remind us of ours.