5.17
Underneath—Solitary Confinement
Writers: Sarah Fain & Elizabeth Craft
Director:
Skip Schoolnik
In the beginning, Angel is alone and doesn’t know why. An urgent
strategy
meeting has been called, but nobody’s shown up. Angel asks plaintively
over the
intercom, “Why am I alone?”
Good question, Angel.
Except for Spike, belatedly joining the (absent) team with an attaché
case full
of beer, the Fang Gang has been pretty thoroughly disrupted. Gunn is
still in
the infirmary, recovering from being stabbed by Wesley, who in turn is
having a
strange conversation with Illyria…and stranger dreams. Lorne has
unsuccessfully
tried to retreat into a bottle, or rather a shaker of sea-breezes,
telling
people what they want to hear rather than the truth, which is too
painful. And
Fred is still gone…or is she? In Wes’ dream, she comments, “This is
only the
first layer: don’t you want to see how deep I go?”
Meanwhile, Eve is alone, still hiding out from the Senior Parners in
Lindsey’s
rune-protected apartment. And Lindsey himself is enspelled into a
suburban hell
of unremarkable everyday activities with Darla-clone wife Trish and son
Zach,
with whom he’s reviewing the layers of the earth, right down to the
“soft,
chewy center,” as though the earth were a Tootsie-Pop. But there’s some
reason
he’s reluctant to go into the basement to get a light bulb, at Trish’s
request.
More alone than he knows, Lindsey knows enough to be uneasy but not
enough to
escape the horror that awaits him.
Which is about the same position Angel is in. He knows, and tells
Spike, that
joining Wolfram & Hart was a stupid mistake…but he doesn’t know
what to do
instead. The Senior Partners have a plan, and Angel’s tired of being…in
the
dark.
Like a cellar, perhaps? In need of a light bulb?
Call to Arms
In gunfight movies, there’s a convention. The protagonist arms himself
and
strides deliberately out onto the dusty street. One ally joins him from
one
direction; another companion swings into step from another side. This
continues
until all the forces of good are aligned and moving toward
confrontation with
the Bad Guys.
This is what this episode is presenting us with.
The first and longest companion is Spike, finally “semi-officially” a
part of
the team that has no name. Not Scoobies; not (Spike hopes) “Angel’s
Avengers,”
though Angel seems to think that has a ring to it. Spike has finally
paid
whatever dues there were to be paid. He’s refused the blank check Angel
offered
him simply to get out of Angel’s sight. In “Shells,” Spike realized and
chose
what he wants—to stand and fight at Angel’s side. And he’s now become
the one
to whom Angel will confess his own doubts and concerns. Perhaps it’s
because (leaving
Harmony aside for the moment) Spike is the only one of Team Angel, as
presently
constituted, that wasn’t involved in l'affaire Connor. Spike hasn’t
been
mind-wiped—he’s simply ignorant, or innocent (your choice), of that
whole
ticking time bomb Angel is consciously sitting on and feeling guilty
about, as
demonstrated by Angel’s uncertainty of whether it was really
Fred’s choice to come to Wolfram & Hart. Angel’s guilt toward Spike
is an
entirely different animal, and that has finally freed him to accept
Spike as a
confidante and a trusted, known quantity: snark, beer, nervousness
about fire,
and all.
Next should be Wesley, but he spends the whole episode in a tête à tête
with
Illyria (and Fred) on the general topic of confinement, limits, and
layers. His
first line in the episode is, “I thought I was in isolation.” His last
line is
agreeing with Illyria’s startling observation that “We are
weak” (emphasis mine). From isolation, to layered Fred somewhere
“underneath,”
to “we”: there’s a journey going on in the discussion of loss and
limits between
Wesley and Illyria, and it’s gone from each daring the other to
leave—by death
or otherwise—to Illyria’s absent use of the plural, accepting her
present state
as a human among humans. What this portends is still unclear, but since
nearly
1/4 of the episode is taken up with their philosophical, elevated
phrase-turning, we assume there will be a payoff somewhere farther down
the
line.
Instead, it’s Lorne foregoing his misery and sense of helplessness to
“strap
the bells on and with a smile and a quip, go back into the belly of a
very ugly
beast and pretend like I can help. ‘Cause that's what the green guy
does."
Lorne doesn’t wait to be summoned. He’s merely stopped retreating.
At about the same time, Gunn rejoins the team he feels he’s betrayed.
Angel
seeks him out in his infirmary bed to find out if there’s a legal means
of
protecting Eve from the Senior Partners. When Gunn is uncertain, Angel
comments, not unkindly, that Gunn paid a high price for the legal
knowledge in
his head: might as well make use of it. With mercy Angel has not been
conspicuous for showing this season, he points out to Gunn that
although Gunn’s
guilt and responsibility are real, this is a chance for atonement.
Angel knows
from atonement and knows that it never ends. And Gunn not only offers a
legal
means of taking Eve into Angel’s custody/protection…he knows how to
find the
source of far greater information about the Senior Partners. He knows,
from
past precedent, the Senior Partners’ “holding dimension” where Lindsey
is being
punished in proportion to Lindsey’s own sense of guilt. Apparently
Lindsey’s
guilt is quite high, since he’s having his heart ripped out (among
other
miscellaneous torture) on a daily basis.
Holding Patterns
The suburban hell mind-wiped Lindsey has been thrust into is
reminiscent of both
Madeleine L'Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time
and Ira Levin’s The
Stepford Wives. Opening the identical front doors of uniform
tract
houses, the dad units all go out to collect the newspaper as though a
starting
gun had been fired. The mom units are all pretty and loving…and send
the dad units
to the basement each morning to collect a light bulb—a token of
illumination—refusing
to take “no” for an answer. Presumably, in each house, a child unit and
a dad
unit review the layers of the earth. The mom and child units don’t
appreciate
any deviation from the prepared script—especially one that would remove
the dad
unit from thrall and provide actual illumination: an understanding of
his
situation; his true memories.
Not surprisingly, an amulet is involved. (Where have we seen that
before?)
When Angel, Spike, and Gunn arrive in the magic-controlled Camero
(having left
Eve guarded/protected by Lorne and Harmony), Lindsey doesn’t remember
them and
tries to throw them out. Instead, Angel rips off the amulet and Lindsey
collapses, in full awareness of what’s been happening to him. As they
try to
take Lindsey away, the mom and child units open fire with machine guns,
not to
mention the milkman et al., outside…where the Camero should be and
isn’t. Like
an experienced horse, it’s returned to the stable…to collect Eve,
Lorne, and
Harmony, who attempt to escape in it from the Terminator-style pursuit
of
Hamilton (another from the Whedon revolving stock company: Hamilton is
played
by Adam Baldwin, formerly Jayne Cobb, of “Firefly.”)
The only way out appears to be via the basement. Through Gunn, they
know that
the only way back is through “the Wrath,” but they don’t know what that
may be.
All that un-spelled Lindsey knows is that horrors happen here. The
walls are
decorated with implements of torture, and Spike finds, next to a table,
a pile
of human hearts—Lindsey’s. One is removed, then apparently grown
afresh, each
day, to begin another jolly morning of togetherness in suburbia. This
is
reminiscent of the torture visited on Prometheus, in Greek myth, for
the crime
of befriending humanity, specifically by giving them fire—he was
chained to a
rock and his liver was eaten each day by vultures. The body part
differs, but
the principle is the same. And in what fashion has Lindsey ever
befriended
humanity? That, perhaps, is still to be revealed.
When the torturer arrives, Angel and Spike put up a good fight but are
unable
either to disable or even seriously hurt him. But the torturer
unexpectedly
stills: Gunn has put on the amulet.
A vacuum is impossible. If one leaves, one has to take his place. Gunn
takes
that role, atoning for his complicity in Fred’s being hollowed out and
then
inhabited by Illyria, and fastens the amulet around his neck. The
furnace door,
charmed shut, opens. And for all his uneasy chatter about fire during
the episode,
Spike wastes no time following Lindsey and Angel into the flames.
One Good Turn
In removing the amulet, Angel has removed the scales from Lindsey’s
eyes. Made
him know that “This whole life is a lie.” It seems only fair that
Lindsey
returns the favor, once back in Angel’s office. He informs Angel that
Angel’s
life is likewise a lie: that all the good Angel’s been trying to do is
only the
ruse the Senior Partners have been using to distract him from the
actual
situation—an apocalypse, THE apocalypse, has been in progress for some
time. Angel’s
role at W & H is just stage dressing to bench Angel…safely out of
the game
and on the wrong side (pardon the mixed metaphor). Smoke and mirrors,
to keep
Angel from looking…beneath the surface.
Shells, Layers, and Centers
Not surprisingly, the previous episode, “Shells,” was about surfaces.
This episode
conspicuously deals with what underlies those surfaces. We get Illyria,
who may
have more of Fred than the mere shell, if Wes’ dream is to be believed.
Illyria
is frustrated and frightened by the limits she finds enclosing her: the
shell
(of Fred; of the world) is a bad fit. She’s going stir-crazy in Fred’s
apartment and doesn’t feel she can “open her jaws” properly until Wes
guides
her to the roof and the open air of a small world.
We have peaceful suburban facades with grisly torture deep within. We
have a
natty-suited Terminator-type, Hamilton, who is heaven-knows-what
underneath—Eve’s
replacement, the ominous new liaison with the Senior Partners. We have
Spike’s attaché
case…containing beer.
Instead of a “hole in the world,” we have an earth of layers with a
“soft,
chewy center” of final sweetness.
Instead of “From beneath you, it devours,” we have something more like
“The truth
shall set you free.”
Surfaces are deceptive. It’s what’s underneath that matters.
What the apocalypse will consist of, what Illyria’s role (or Fred’s) in
it will
be, whether a shanshu of a souled vampire will be involved, whether the
earth
itself will survive—all these are unknown at this point. Angel’s forces
are
plus one (Spike) but minus two. Two soldiers down, as Hamilton remarks,
spookily quoting Cordelia, the second of those soldiers to be lost; the
first
was Doyle. If only two, then we should expect to see Gunn back in the
action at
some point, since Hamilton didn’t count him as “down.” But it seems as
though
down, toward the center, is the way home, the way to the truth. And for
good or
ill, it seems as though Angel is finally on the right track.
Nan Dibble
4/19/04
Acknowledgement: As always, I am indebted for the gladly shared
insights, wit,
and general snarkiness of my fellow S’cubies: the members of the
Soulful Spike
Society.
Memorable lines:
Spike: (sound of can tab opening) What? I’m listening. With beer.
Angel: Forget it. This isn’t a meeting, this is you being annoying.
Lorne: What I know is…I started drinking the moment that I found out
that a
girl I loved was going to die. Every time I get to the bottom of the
glass, I
hope that that last drop’s going to take me the distance. A simple
plan. It
failed utterly. Which is why I’m gonna heave my tuchis off this stool,
strap
the bells on, and with a smile and a quip, go back into the belly of a
very
ugly beast…and pretend like I can help. Because that’s what the green
guy does.
Angel (leaving elevator): Harmony?
Harmony: Yepper.
Angel: Call security, put ‘em on red alert. Nobody gets in this
building
without clearance from me. I want a guard on every entrance, every
elevator, every
stairwell. Cover the whole building.
Harmony: OK, but you know how that never works?
Angel: Harmony!
Harmony: On it!
Angel: Gunn, I know you feel bad about your part in what happened to
Fred. And
you should. For the rest of your life, it should wake you up in the
middle of the
night. And it will. Because you’re a good man. You signed a piece of
paper—that’s
all.
Gunn: But I knew. Not about Fred, but…what I signed, I knew there would
be
consequences.
Angel: The thing about atonement is, you never run out of chances. But
you
gotta take ‘em. You can’t hide in some hospital room and pretend it’s
all gonna
go away. ‘Cause it never will.
Dream!Fred: You have a visitor.
Wesley: I thought I was in isolation.
……….
Dream!Fred: Tell me a joke.
Wesley: Two men walk into a bar. The first man orders a scotch and
soda. The second
man remembers something he’d forgotten and it doubles him over with
pain. He
falls to the floor, shaking. And then through the floor and into the
earth. He
looks back up at the first man but he doesn’t call out to him. They’re
not that
close. (Theory: Wesley is both men in the joke. One “remembers
something” that “doubles
him over with pain.” This second man…remembers abducting Connor,
perhaps. But
remembering Wesley and present forgetful Wesley are “not that close”
and can’t
look for help to one another.)
………
Dream!Fred: This is only the first layer: don’t you want to see how
deep I go?
Illyria: In my time, nightmares walked among us. Walked and danced.
Skewering
victims in plain sight. Laying their fears and worst desires out for
everyone
to see. Just to make us laugh…. And now nightmares are trapped inside
the heads
of humans—pitiful echoes of themselves. I wonder whom they angered so,
to merit
such a fate?
Lindsey: The earth’s outer layer is?
Zach: The crust.
Lindsey: And underneath that?
Zach: The mantle?
Lindsey: And underneath that? Come on, you know this one.
Zach: The outer core.
Linsey: And under that?
Zach: The inner core.
Lindsey: And under that?
Zach: Underneath that…. Nothing!
Lindsey: Just the soft, chewy center!
Wesley: Are you telling me the great Illyria, idol of millions, was
limited to one,
small dimension?
Illyria: I traveled them all at will, I walked worlds of smoke and
half-truths,
intangible. Worlds of torment and of unnamable beauty. Opaline towers
as high
as small moons. Glaciers that rippled with insensate lust. And one
world with
nothing but shrimp. I tired of that one quickly. (Remember Anya’s line
about
the “world without shrimp”?)
Angel: Lindsey, this whole life…is a lie.
Spike: I’m on fire! (sees he’s not) Oh. Never mind.
Lorne: Where’s Gunn?
Angel: He stayed behind.
Lorne: Stayed behind? But you never leave a— (Sees Angel and Spike both
looking
grim and saying nothing) Or .. I guess we do. That's what we do now
Angel (seeing Hamilton): Damn: he is
well dressed!
Wesley: The walls don’t press in as hard when you can’t see them.
Illyria: They’re still here.
……..
Illyria: All I am is what I am. I lived seven lives at once. I was
power and
the ecstasy of death. I was god to a god. Now, I...I'm trapped. On a
roof. Just
one roof. In this time. In this place with an unstable human who drinks
too
much whiskey and called me a smurf. You don't worship me at all, do you?
……..
Illyria: Your world is so small and yet you box yourselves in rooms
even
smaller. You shut yourselves inside, in rooms, in routines.
Wesley: There are things worse than walls. Terrible and beautiful. If
we look
at them for too long they will burn right through us. Truths we
couldn't bear.
Not every day.
Illyria: We are so weak.
Lindsey: Look—it’s the hero of the hour.
Angel: I’m not your hero: I’m your warden.
Lindsey: It’s all how you look at the glass.
……..
Lindsey: That's what I like to see, the Angel of yore. Takes no
prisoners,
suffers no fools. How 'bout this? It's here. It's been here all along.
You're
just too damned stupid to see it.
Angel: See what?"
Lindsey: The apocalypse, man. You're soaking in it. (Note: a reference
to a bygone
dishwashing liquid TV commercial, in which a manicure customer
discovers her fingers
have been “soaking in it” showing how gentle it is on the hands.)
Spike: I’ve seen an apocalypse or two, I’d know if one was right under
my nose.
Lindsey: Not an apocalypse, the apocalypse.
What'd you think, a gong was gonna sound? Time to jump on your horses
and fight
the big fight? Starting pistol went off a long time ago, boys. You're
playing
for the bad guys. Every day you sit behind your desk and you learn a
little
more how to accept the world the way it is. Well, here's the rub.
Heroes don't
do that. Heroes don't accept the world the way it is. They fight it.
Angel: You're saying, everything we do, it's a distraction to keep us
busy,
from looking under the surface.
Lindsey: Ding! We have a winner. The world keeps sliding towards
entropy and
degradation and what do you do? You sit in your big chair and you sign
your
checks, just like the Senior Partners planned. The war's here, Angel.
And
you're already two soldiers down.
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