Themes of the TV series Buffy The Vampire Slayer. By Laurence Buxton, 2018

Themes of the TV series Buffy The Vampire Slayer. By Laurence Buxton, 2018.

One of the joys of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, other than its quickfire dialogue and character development, was the strength of its themes across seasons as well as episodes, which elevated the show even in its (in my opinion rare) lapses in quality, and give it extra rewatch value. I’ve therefore written this article to explore these, as this is something I’ve tried to instil in my own work.

The show’s initial conceit turned the table on the whole ‘helpless blonde girl stalked by a powerful threat’ cliché by its initial ‘victim’ – Darla – turning out to be a predatory vampire , and its heroine, Buffy, revealed as physically stronger than any other human. This theme was strong enough to sustain it for its first season, particularly as it was just 11 episodes long. Unsurprisingly the show’s initial run does look dated by today’s standards, betraying its origins in late 1990s: the screen image is blurred and the picture contrast often limited; the acting of some of the supporting cast (including, to some extent David Boreanaz) is yet to fully convince; there’s not yet the emotional depth of later seasons and episodes such as the internet-themed I Robot You Jane seem a little obsolete.

Yet the chemistry between the three best friends is undeniable. Anthony Head also conveys quiet authority as Giles (the equivalent of Donald Sutherland’s role in the TVM), Mark Metcalf gives a touch of relish, theatricality and unexpected pathos to his role as The Master, and there’s a number of standout episodes – Nightmares explores the inner fears of the protagonists in a more light-hearted way than would be the case later on; The Pack is a particularly nasty episode, with the liberal Principal Flutie being written out in gruesome fashion and Nicholas Brendon convincingly callous when Xander is possessed; The Puppet Show cleverly mixes horror film creepiness with side-splitting humour whilst also introducing Flutie’s stern replacement Snyder, and the story Angel gives Boreanaz a chance to take centre-stage for the first time, impressing as the enigmatic stranger’s dark secret is revealed.

If there is a theme it is of the strength of not fitting in or accepting the role society has defined for you : Buffy, who as the Slayer fails to fit in with the ‘weak, helpless blonde girl’ image rejects Cordelia’s shallow group for the genuine friendship of Xander and Willow, whilst they decline to accept they are helpless in the face of powerful odds. The Master and his set-up represents an ‘old guard’ which Buffy & co challenge. Buffy also keeps her spirited attitude to slaying which contrasts with what Giles would initially prefer.

Fan opinion tends to rate seasons 2, 3 and 5 as the show’s best. In many ways the second season starts off much like its first, with ‘monster of the week’ stories and the increasingly-developed Buffy-Angel romance giving the show its heart. But there’s a nasty sting in the tale this time, with the consummation of their relationship leading to the loss of Angel’s soul and the return of Angelus: the sadistic, spiteful and powerful vampire that Angel once was. Boreanaz absolutely excels in this darker role and Sarah Michelle Gellar is also at her best. There’s also the addition of a brilliant English vampire double-act: the punk-like Spike and the crazy, rambling Drusilla, their romantics acting a kind of ‘Sid and Nancy’ parallel to Buffy and Angel’s and causing further complications when Angelus pursues Drusilla principally to torment Spike. James Marsters in particular, as Spike, became a fan favourite with his Billy Idol-like attitude, and the character would go on to have a huge part to play in the rest of the show’s run.

Similarly to last season’s Teacher’s Pet Xander got his ‘own’ episode, with the genuinely funny Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered finding the hapless student’s spell to reclaim Cordelia backfiring. Willow, still pining for Xander, got her own boyfriend, the taciturn and deep-thinking Oz, who would turn out to have a side hidden even from himself. Theme-wise the main storyline noted the battle between responsibility and pleasure – the (unaware) Buffy turns Angel into a monster by giving into her feelings, and the knowledge that she is the only one who can put this right, particularly after the murder of fellow slayer Kendra. Two other couples, Cordelia/Xander and Oz/Willow, also face clashes between doing the right thing and acting on their inner personal desires. Meanwhile the arrival of the mischievous, chaos-worshipping Ethan Rayne (played by the late Robin Sachs) also highlights this dilemma: his amoral, though not necessarily out-and-out evil, attitude is markedly different to his old friend Giles’ more idealistic behaviour. Ethan’s weak and cowardly nature is also compared directly to Giles’ hand-to-hand skills and inherent bravery.

Season 3 kept the show’s standards high. Whilst lacking the emotional devastation of last season’s climax it successfully replaced Spike and Drusilla with two equally successful antagonists – the genial, parochial Mayor Wilkins and the rogue slayer Faith, portrayed superbly respectively by Harry Groener and Eliza Dushku. A more morally ambiguous season, with the ‘good’ characters often clashing over the ‘right’ course of action, s3 developed the Mayor-Faith relationship into a surrogate father-daughter bond which contained genuine mutual affection and served as a twisted parallel to that of Buffy/Giles. Marsters did make a guest appearance in the excellent Lovers Walk, and the character showed his ability to cut through the delusion and self-deception of not just Buffy & Angel but humanity in general. There were more ‘what if’ stories, with Hannigan excelling as the warped, sexually ambiguous and repacious vamped Willow in the dark It’s A Wonderful Life-style The Wish – which introduced vengeance demon Anya – and the more light-hearted episode Doppelgangland, where ‘vampire Willow’ shows a disturbing attraction to ‘human Willow’.

Through the season Joyce, now aware of Buffy’s true calling, tried to display more understanding of her daughter’s dangerous lifestyle, but this attempt to bond would lead to simply putting Buffy in even more peril when she & other concerned parents were manipulated by dark forces in the unsettling anti-vigilantism tale Gingerbread. The season climaxed literally with a bang, with Sunnydale High being blown to bits by the heroes in their fight with the Mayor, whilst Buffy’s reward for her heroism was to lose Angel once again. Throughout moral dilemmas were the season’s main theme – notably Buffy and Angel’s disagreement on whether he should stay for romantic as much as professional reasons and Wesley’s and the Watchers’ councils’ profound differences with Buffy, Giles and the Scoobies about the right tactics to face the Mayor and Faith.

By the fourth season there were a number of changes, and not just to the clarity of the picture. The arrival at university saw Buffy clearly out of her depth, more than in season 3’s opener Anne where Buffy had run away from home and had to cope with a humdrum life in Los Angeles. The titular heroine had to cope with annoying roommates, sweet-talking love-rats, patronising professors and homesickness, despite living close enough to return to The Bronze, her home and to Giles whenever she wished, as for the first time she found her friends were not always there for her. It turned into perhaps the show’s quirkiest season yet, with a slightly weak central story arc (the show was hindered by actress Lindsey Crouse departing unexpectedly which seemed to skew the direction of the main plotline, whilst the Frankenstein’s Monster-like Adam proved fairly unpopular as did Marc Blucas’ leading man Riley. The character was essentially Angel’s replacement and, whilst Whedon & Co should be applauded for not making him Angel Mark II, with his crisis of masculinity he essentially came across as a more serious, old-fashioned version of Xander, and their relationship didn’t fully convince.

Although some of the playing with the show’s, and television’s, conventions worked – Superstar gave Danny Strong’s hitherto insignificant Jonathan a chance to become the central figure and the incredible Hush robbed the protagonists of the ability to speak for much of the episode – the show’s messages occasionally became more blatant, such as in the seemingly-deliberately stupid Beer Bad (an anti-alcohol episode pretty much devoid of threat widely cited, along with the same season’s repetitive and unfocused Where The Wild Things Are, as one of the show’s least popular). Yet despite the series becoming more episodic and farcical there was still a theme, this time about social isolation. For whilst Buffy struggles more than Willow to fit into college life Xander, still living at home and struggling through unfulfilling jobs, feared relegation to the outskirts of the group which had been predicted in season 3’s The Zeppo. Similarly Giles started to worry he had become unnecessary, descending into occasionally drunken, aimless confusion and coercion (such as A New Man, featuring his old friend and nemesis Ethan Rayne) and even Spike had to adjust to being unable to hunt humans and to how he now fitted into life in Sunnydale. Season closer Restless was a dream-based story which whilst popular was an arty and fittingly bizarre way to finish an oddball season. But the memorable departure of Oz and his replacement in Willow’s affections by shy, stammering Wiccan Tara also pointed to choices and consequences, a recurring theme in the show since season two. Willow’s discovery of her sexuality would not only provide two of the strongest episodes of the season (Wild At Heart, New Moon Rising) but would be a major breakthrough for LGBT characters on TV, and after initial resistance from some of the fanbase Tara would, like Spike, become a fan favourite.

Season 5 had a distinct theme: that of taking responsibility. It started with a slightly camp knockabout (Buffy vs Dracula) but still gave hinted at the theme of responsibility and loss of control, particularly with Willow. The series villain (the self-absorbed Glory), robs Tara of her sanity, but whilst Buffy remains in control – even when the arrival of ‘little sister’ Dawn is offset by her mother Joyce becoming terminally ill and dying – Willow slowly becomes addicted to black magic. Identity also becomes a recurring theme in s5 : Glory is essentially the ‘Hyde’ to Ben’s Jekyll, as the two struggle to share the same body. Spike continues to struggle with his current ‘neutered’ state (due to the chip in his head which prohibits him from attacking humans) in comparison with his slayer-killing past, Xander is split into two versions of himself in The Replacement, with the confident and incompetent versions of the everyman highlighting his concerns over his ‘usefulness’, whilst Tara voices worry about how her role in her relationship might be at risk from Willow’s ever-increasing magical abilities. These concerns would carry over into the following season too.

The more serious tone of the show was reflected in the message about the importance of family; the arrival of Dawn and the loss of Joyce completely changes Buffy’s role in the Summers household by putting her as eldest sister, with Willow and Tara acting as adoptive parents to Dawn and even Spike taking the role of roguish but deeply protective uncle to the newcomer. The impression gained from all this is that the freedom of earlier seasons is clearly over. Meanwhile the stark classic The Body deals directly with Buffy losing her mother, and contrasts dramatically with s4’s Emmy-nominated standout Hush – the music-less episode is show’s toughest episode to watch yet perfectly conveys the sense of numbness and shock of losing a loved one, before in typical Buffy fashion the arrival of a vampire confirms to her that her life must continue.

The next season was arguably the darkest of all, particularly its latter half. Tara’s death, after her partner’s ill-advised meddling in dark magic to manipulate her friends, saw Willow descend into becoming the season’s ‘Big Bad’, and a showdown with her oldest friends. Even the beginning of the season saw Buffy snatched not from Hell, but Heaven, and forced to battle increasingly-irritating foes (such as the misogynistic Warren) as well as work in a job she hates and with people she despises, notably the increasingly-lovelorn Spike. If season 5 had been punctuated with shocking moments of melancholy and disturbing scenes of mental breakdown among Sunnydale’s population there was a truly tragic tone to s6, with the lead characters’ flaws leading to self-destruction of an almost Shakespearean fashion.

The once-perky Buffy herself seemed a particularly despairing figure, entering into a seedy affair with a character she has decidedly mixed feelings for. Throughout there was a universally bleak message, that sex without love (Buffy-Spike but also Warren-April/Katrina) has serious consequences yet the death of the beloved Tara and the breakup of Anya/Xander seemed to indicate that apparently happy relationships were also doomed, apart from the briefly returning Riley and his new wife. There was a theme of unhealthy addiction, clearly referenced in episode titles as blunt as Gone, Smashed and Wrecked : Buffy’s desire for cheap sex simply to force her feelings, Willow’s enjoyment of black magic echoing a hard drug habit, and a concurrent theme of isolation from friends and family – check out Dead Things, where Spike seduces Buffy whilst encouraging her to distance herself from her friends on the dancefloor; Normal Again, where a spellbound Buffy is made to feel her friends are not real, and Older And Far Away, where Dawn makes a wish that no-one can leave Buffy’s birthday party – critics often deride this run for being depressing and disillusioning, yet it also tied into the feeling from some that the show should not be continuing. Perhaps this series’ most famous episode is the musical Once More With Feeling, yet even this proved quite an introspective character piece which probed the protagonists’ inner turmoil.

The final season might have been expected to be even more downbeat, particularly in a show about the regular threat of the world being destroyed. Yet one of season 7’s themes, seemed to be of not so much endings as about the need for a new generation to continue the fight, and those who were once young and innocent like Buffy (and needing leadership from characters such as Giles) now needing to provide leadership themselves: suddenly Buffy was a General as much as a warrior. There was also a theme of redemption which its spin-off Angel had dealt with regularly, with the guilt-ridden Willow trying to make amends for her descent into world-threatening destruction. The now--resouled Spike also strove to become better, eventually being forgiven by the vengeful Principal Wood whose mother was the slayer the English vampire killed in 1977, and Spike himself would make the ultimate sacrifice. The returning Faith also attempted to turn back to the ‘good’ side by helping take charge of the Potentials. Facing this army would be The First, a non-corporeal primal evil which could take the form of those who have died to manipulate and demoralise the heroes, and the show’s ultimate optimism in the face of life’s torments would be the success in those who have erred so badly in redeeming themselves through actions rather than guilt, a theme reaching back to Angel’s character.

Like seasons 5 and 6 there were dark moments along the way, when the battle against evil seemed overwhelming – one Potential would be driven to suicide by the First’s mind games, the apparently cheery episode Dirty Girls would see poor Xander punished for his sex obsession in the most unsettling way possible, and the episode Help would act as s7’s version of The Body, with Buffy unable to prevent the seemingly ordained death of a student. This final season was criticised as the show became overloaded with Potentials, some of whom would be better characterised and acted than others, whilst their bossiest individual, Kennedy, replaced Dawn as the character least popular with the fanbase. Yet at least the final scene of the Hellmouth’s destruction, with a smiling Buffy in the sunshine, was considerably more optimistic than the surviving protagonists of Angel facing seemingly certain death against overwhelming odds in a dark, rainy alleyway. Finally Buffy, who had struggled to convince her ‘army’ of her required superiority to them in Empty Places, no longer has the weight of the world on her shoulders – there are successors to her and she can lead an ordinary life.

To some extent I regret that the show has continued in comic book form as it risks undoing much of the narrative continuity, just as Spike’s sacrifice at the end of Buffy’s final season was slightly compromised by his return in the final season of Angel. Yet the show’s thematic depth remains almost unmatched in television shows, and means that its enjoyment can actually heighten rather than lessen over time. The program therefore remains a vital reference for anyone looking to instil themes into story arcs as well as individual stories, be it in literature or television.