In Defense of Dollhouse

Earlier this year, I was a bit of a sheep. I heard from others, others I trust and love, that Dollhouse, Joss Whedon's newest addition to his long television resume, was distinctly Not Very Good. And so, not having television, I did not bother to seek it out. I dodged viewings at friends' houses and chances to use Hulu and generally stayed uninformed. The one episode I caught was already half over, and so more than a wee bit confusing, which did not help things.

However, these sorts of ignorance do not last in my world; a visit to a friend's house birthed a chance to see the first and second episodes, and so watch I did. And I saw enough there that I had to wonder: Was I misinformed? Were my tastes so different? So I ordered the DVD set when it came out, and returned from vacation to find a telltale package sitting on my doorstep.

That was Thursday. I finished Season One of Dollhouse last night.

Those who know me well, know that this is a prodigious event. Much as I love the television medium I am not a person who can sit and watch for more than a handful of hours at a time. So when I say I spent all of Friday either writing or watching Dollhouse, you know how riveted I was. I was not willing to believe for a long time; but now I'm pretty sure I think this is the best show Joss Whedon has yet produced—which is only natural, given that it's born of experience.

Now, I'm not saying those who didn't like it are wrong; I'm not going to try to account for taste just because I have a blog. And I'll admit, I am a drooling Whedon fanboy, so a certain amount of this could be me playing the apologist. But, for those who are interested in what I think, I present a defense of, and primer for, Joss Whedon's Dollhouse...and in the process, hope to explicate what might be bugging the Whedonites about this one.

First, and I cannot stress this enough: Dollhouse is not Buffy. It will never be Buffy, and it doesn't want to be. This is, I think, at the root of a lot of why this show bothers so many; there are fundamental differences between this show and Whedon's previous work that may seem disruptive, or cause false assumptions. Most of the rest of this entry is taken up on what makes it different, so if that doesn't interest you I'll understand if you stop reading.

Dollhouse is darker than Buffy. This is the most important break from tradition: Joss has painted this story a shade darker than his previous ones. That's not to say that the Buffyverse never dealt with adult topics...but when the closest thing to a comic relief episode starts with a man beating himself to death on a windowpane, you know you're in for a different sort of ride.

Dollhouseis more adult than Buffy. This is separate from "darker", but similar. The themes of the Buffyverse shows were maturation and responsibility—learning to deal with the multifarious burdens of life, first as a teenager becoming an adult and then later as an adult who has not learned nearly as much as they think they have. The themes of Firefly were family and the conflict between security and freedom. The themes of Dollhouse are not more important or better, but they are more complicated—the nature of humanity, memory vs. personality, and the massive political conflict between what the Dollhouse can do and what it is trying to do. The story also leaves a lot more gray areas than the previous shows have, and it doesn't seem interested in giving us definite answers.

Dollhouse's ensemble is not where you think it is. Much noise has been made about the problem of Echo as the main character, and the lack of connection the audience feels with her due to her overall dearth of character growth. But while there is plenty of plot surrounding Echo and the nature of the dolls, and while Eliza Dushku's face graces our DVD boxed set...she is not part of the Whedon-trademark "ensemble cast". For that, look to Topher, and Boyd, and DeWitt, and the rest of the crew working behind the scenes at the Dollhouse (further information withheld to avoid avoid possible spoilers). The Actives are ciphers, mirrors that reflect the growth and change within the "normal" human characters; they are not there to be loved in and of themselves, except perhaps in the way pets are loved, they are there to show us what to love and hate about everyone else.

Dollhouse moves slower, but steadier. I love the first season of Dollhouse partially because it is such a taut, well-paced show, as compared to the longer and occasionally more sprawling Buffy seasons. Every episode of this show has a little bit more plot, even if it's just a tidbit; you wouldn't necessarily notice if you watched the season out of order (with the exception of a couple key episodes, which is fairly common in Joss's works). Buffy, with its 22-episode seasons, had a little more room to wiggle; with Dollhouse, thirteen episodes means it has to pack a little plot into everything. But it still peels slowly, like an onion, and for that I love it.

Dollhouse isn't funny, but Dollhouse is witty. This is a very important distinction. Joss is an excellent writer of banter, and he encourages that in his writers; but just because he's not being funny doesn't mean he isn't writing banter. The exchanges between the characters here are fast and sharp and witty, and they deliver a surprising amount of information without the annoying reveal-dumps that stud so many Mutant Enemy imitators. Enjoy the wit. Steep in the wit. Recognize it's clever. Don't wait for a punchline, and the few they do have will shine that much brighter.

That's all I have to say in its defense. I genuinely think the first season of Dollhouse is a masterpiece—witty, taut, and masterfully executed—and I hope that with this primer, you might see it that way, too. If you don't, I hope you at least enjoyed Buffy.