Dollhouse canceled


"The rest is silence."

Joss’ statement:

Hmm. Apparently my news is not news.

I don’t have a lot to say. I’m extremely proud of the people I’ve worked with: my star, my staff, my cast, my crew. I feel the show is getting better pretty much every week, and I think you’ll agree in the coming months. I’m grateful that we got to put it on, and then come back and put it on again.

I’m off to pursue internet ventures/binge drinking. Possibly that relaxation thing I’ve read so much about. By the time the last episode airs, you’ll know what my next project is. But for now there’s a lot of work still to be done, and disappointment to bear.

It was starkly obvious this was going to happen when it was decided new episodes were less profitable than reruns of House and Bones to run during sweeps month, but this is still a disheartening thing to hear.

It was always Whedon’s weakest show. Once Buffy found her legs, she kicked good; Angel provided the most explicit exposition of Whedon’s moral vision, but suffered from uneven seriousness in his writing staff that undercut the necessary tone; everything, premise, cast, writing, everything came together for Firefly.

Most episodes of Dollhouse were…well, episodic, monster wacky millionaire eccentric-of-the-week digressions. If one read through any thread by fans, they would quickly see even the show’s most committed devotees questioning whether the show was workable at all–how do you connect with a character who’s a different person every week? The show’s writers never quite figured it out. This production was fated for a short life at its conception.

 But in spite of its genetic defects, the production did issue fourth one of the most  compelling Jossverse characters in a few, too few, strokes in Amy Acker’s Dr. Claire Saunders. At its best, it posed questions about the dialectic between identity and reality in ways that have not been tried since the death of Philip K. Dick.

But these questions were only posed when the show realized the consequences of its own premise. These moments of lucidity only ever happened a few times per week in lines so inconsequential to the plots as to be throwaways but for their profundity. But for a few whole, glorious episodes–Man on the Street, Briar Rose, Epitaph One,  Belle Chose, Belonging–the lucidity lasted a full fifty minutes. I will miss these hours of sanity in the rolling years of idiotic television, full of sound and fury as it is, and signifying nothing.

Well. I guess it says something good that I’m in a position in my life where this is the worst news I hear all day. Today.


One Response

  1. My condolences, Bento. 😦

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