Season 5

Episode 19

 

TOUGH LOVE: Cool Hand Buffy

by Spring Summers – 22-Feb-2005

 

- Challenging authoritySuicide - Establishment of the selfDistinguishing reality - The power to change - Willow and Spike - Spicy extras for James Marsters fans -

 

BUFFY (right before punching Glory):  “They used to bow down to gods.  Things change.”

 

Oh, Buffy.  Things do change.  You’re not your mother’s child anymore; you’re suddenly your sister’s mother.  You’ve crossed over – or rather, been pushed over – the line, from Dependent to Head-of-Household.  It’s not just Giles, as he literally pushes Buffy forward, who is administering tough love.  It’s also the world, our external environment, which ruthlessly manhandles us all toward adulthood:  Responsibility.  Accountability.  Duty.  Sacrifice.  Wisdom.  Strength:

 

BUFFY:  “Early to bed, early to rise, balanced breakfast, hospital corners.  It’s a new beginning.”

 

Over and over, we are shown examples of authority and established processes:  Buffy’s professor must sign forms for her withdrawal from the University; Ben is expected to come to work on time; Dawn must attend school or civil authorities will intervene; Dawn has homework; The minions receive “assignments” from Glory; Policy dictates that Tara must spend the night at the hospital; Willow has instructions for giving Tara her medications.  These are the outside forces that bear down upon us, shaping us, in part, as we grow toward adulthood.  Our internal drives and proclivities and talents complete the picture.  Our internal selves interface – clash and combine – with external forces to determine our ever-evolving shape.  Notice the reference to a famous quote in Warner Brother’s 1967 Paul Newman movie, Cool Hand Luke:

 

PRISON GUARD CAPTAIN (to the convicts):  What we've got here is failure to communicate. Some men you just can't reach.”

 

GLORY (to her minions):  “So I think what we have here is a failure to do your frickin’ jobs, pardon my French.”

 

Luke is the quintessential symbol of rebellion against established authority, but he’s a flawed hero – destructive, a rebel without a clear cause, a misfit, spitting in the face of authority.   He curses God much as Willow literally spits in God-Glory’s face in this episode.  Luke is unable to access any real power, unable, in the end, to communicate (i.e., to significantly impact, or be impacted by, others).  The disenchanted and disaffected and unhappy Luke turns to suicide-by-cop – to martyrdom, in order to preserve the legend.

 

Season 5 opened with Dracula telling Buffy that she needed to discover who she was, to become who she was meant to be.  Buffy concurred.  And Tough Love is all about Buffy discovering and becoming – a messy process that involves knowing when to listen and learn and follow the doctor’s instructions, and knowing when to spit in his eye:

 

BUFFY (about going after Glory):  “This is not the time.”

WILLOW:  “When is?  When you feel like it?  When it’s someone you love as much as I love Tara?  When it’s Dawn, is that it?”

 

The specter of Luke, continual references to the passage (and limited amounts) of time, and Buffy’s own mention of suicide, seem to foreshadow Buffy’s season ending decision to stop the painful process of becoming. (BUFFY, to Spike:  “I told Willow it would be like suicide.”)  There are also two suggestions that there are things worse than death – i.e., that living in this world can seem a less attractive alternative to leaving it:

 

·         SPIKE:  “Hey, chin up, platelet.  Don’t get scared.  Maybe Glory doesn’t want to kill you.  Maybe it’s something –"  DAWN:  “Worse?”

·         GLORY (to Tara):  “It doesn’t kill you.  What it does is make you feel like you’re in a noisy, dark little room, naked and ashamed.”

 

There’s death, and there’s learning to live in the world as it is.  As babies, we have no independent sense of self; at first, we cannot even distinguish between ourselves and our surroundings.  This is a state of utter dependence and self-centeredness:  A baby recognizes only its own urgent needs; the needs of others are non-existent.  A baby believes the world to be a part of himself; an adult understands that he is part of the world.  As we grow, we begin to develop a sense of self.  As we begin to identify and value our own distinctive outlines, we can begin to recognize and value the unique existence of others.  Without an independent sense of self, we are monsters of selfishness.  When we establish independent identities we are able to consider acts of generosity - we are able to begin truly to be of service to others.  It is only after we know and accept ourselves that we are able to move (albeit forever imperfectly and incompletely), not toward martyrdom, but toward the more cheerful and voluntary altruism of sainthood. 

 

Buffy is not yet upon that path – listen to both Ben and Buffy wallow in the martyrdom:

 

BEN (to Glory):  “This is so unfair.  You’re taking everything away from me.  Everything I’ve worked for, I earned, I care about.  These are my choices.  This is my life, and you’re ruining it.”

BUFFY (to Willow):  “Don’t worry.  It’s not like I don’t have a life.  I do.  I have Dawn’s life.”

 

Ben and Buffy are feeling (understandably) angry, resentful, helpless, and overwhelmed.   They both use words to try to mold reality to their liking:

 

·         BEN:  “No, no, not here.  I’m Ben, I’m Ben, I’m Ben.”

·         BUFFY:  “Me, the grown-up.  The authority figure.  The strong guiding hand and the stompy foot that is me.”

 

Words are presented throughout the episode as essential, but incomplete, conveyors of information between external and internal realities.  (XANDER:  “Man, words cannot express how much I hate this place.”)  But words aren’t enough to keep Ben in his male-form, or to turn Buffy’s foot into a stompy one.  We’ve got to feel, touch, smell, act, push, and pull.  We’ve got to jump in there, and mix it up.  In Fool for Love:

 

SPIKE (to Buffy):  “Lesson the Second: Ask the right questions.”

 

But Buffy hasn’t quite made her way to adulthood, and the fact that she continues to try to cling to the ideal, black-and-white world of childhood is seen in the fact that she hasn’t quite learned Lesson the Second:

 

·         BUFFY:  “What about all those times I asked you how school was, and you said fine?”   DAWN:   “Well, it was.  You didn’t ask me if I was in it when it was fine.”

·         DAWN:  “Where would I go?”  BUFFY:  “I don’t know.  Dad, maybe.  Or foster care.  I didn’t really want to ask.” 

 

She didn’t ask the right question, because she didn’t really want to know the right answer.  But becoming an adult involves comes to terms with reality.  This process – the process of distinguishing others and our surroundings as we define ourselves – is represented in the episode by the images of authority and rebellion, but also by repeated comments about what is inside and what is outside:

 

·         ANYA:  “They would if they were patriotic.”  XANDER:  “OK.  I’m going in.  Patriotic?”

·         BUFFY:  “I’m all dropped out.”  XANDER:  “Welcome to the real world.  Lot of fun to be had on the outside.  You’ll see.”

·         PRINCIPAL:  “Dawn, why don’t you wait outside for a few minutes?”

·         DAWN (to Buffy):  “The monks put grades K through eight in my head.  Can’t we just wait and see if they drop nine in there too?”

·         GLORY (to Tara):  “Oh, this is nice.  Just hanging out, just us girls.  You like that sort of thing, don’t you?”

·         GLORY (to Tara):  “Think about it.  You think your hand hurts?  Imagine what you’d feel with my fingers wiggling in your brain.  It doesn’t kill you.  What it does is make you feel like you’re in a noisy, dark little room, naked and ashamed.  And there are things in the dark that need to hurt you because you’re bad – little pinching things that go in your ears and crawl on the inside of your skull.  And you know that if the noise and the crawling would stop, that you could remember how to get out.”

·         ANYA (to Willow):  “You can sleep with me!  Well now, that came out a lot more lesbian than it sounded in my head.”

And we are repeatedly reminded of how challenging it can be, to express ourselves clearly, and to clearly understand others.  We are reminded of how easy it can be, to have a failure to communicate.  Below are a few examples, among many in this episode, of instances of people misunderstanding each other, or lying to each other:

 

·         BUFFY:  “You lied to me?”  DAWN:  “I didn’t lie, exactly.”

·         PRINCIPAL:  “I think we both know that Dawn is a lot more than just a kid.”  Buffy and Dawn misunderstand, and look worried that the Principal might know something – but no:  “She’s a talented young girl, with a sharp mind, when she puts the effort in.”

·         BUFFY (misunderstanding the situation):  “What’s this, I thought I told you to do your homework.”  DAWN:  “I was.”  BUFFY:  “Please don’t lie to me.” (And how about Willow, Xander and Anya making an actual triangle – talk about your subtext becoming text!)

·         WILLOW:  “Don’t you trust me?”  TARA:  “With my life.”  WILLOW:  “That’s not what I mean.”

·         WILLOW:  “Buffy was just a little crabby at Dawn about her schoolwork.”  TARA:  “It’s understandable.”  WILLOW (misunderstanding):  “Yeah, it sure is.  I’d totally be blowing off classes if I were in Dawnie’s shoes.”

·         GILES:  “Are you all right?”  WILLOW:  “Yeah.”  GILES:  “Ah yes, because your good mood is both obvious and contagious.”

·         GILES (about Willow’s argument with Tara):  “Well, now it’s over.”  WILLOW (misunderstanding):  “Over?  How can it be over?”  GILES:  “The quarrel is over.”

 

Note how frequently the still maturing and often self-absorbed Willow fails to communicate.  But Glory is the prime example of a monster of selfishness, and her utter dependence on others is not a coincidental attending characteristic.  She is completely unable to understand others, and her boundaries are so ill-defined that she literally sucks the selfhood of others to sustain her existence.  We are reminded of Adam in this episode:

 

WILLOW:  “Well, I took Psych 101.  I mean, I took it from an evil government scientist who was skewered by her Frankenstein-like creation before the final, but I know what a Freudian slip is.”

 

Adam:  He was so entirely self-contained that he didn’t even eat.  His power source was wholly internal.  He believed that this world was his to conquer.  He was completely unable to understand the benefit of connecting to anything external to himself, of sharing the power.   He was ultimately defeated by the combined, synchronous effort of Buffy, Giles and The Scoobies.  He could never understand the source of their power.

 

Glory:  She is so dependent on others that her very existence is stolen from Ben, and she can continue existing only by literally sucking her strength from others.  Her power source is wholly external (“Mmm – vitamins!”)  She believes herself entirely out of place in this world.  And the mode of her defeat is being foreshadowed in the comparison between her and Adam:  She will be defeated by the singular self-sacrifice of Giles, and then Buffy. 

 

But what do Adam and Glory have in common? They place no independent value on the existence of others – the external exists only to serve.  They exhibit no consideration for others; they are absolutely self-absorbed.  Self-absorption and rabid selfishness: it’s monstrous, it’s Evil.  It’s the big bad, the BIG bad, whether it is based on a superiority complex born of a sense of absolute independence and power, or a inferiority complex born of a sense of absolute dependence and powerlessness.

 

Unlike Adam or Glory, our heroes, imperfect as they may be, are allowing their insides out, and their outsides in.  They are growing and changing.  We hear many references to individual choices and preferences, but we also note that everyone is providing each other with help and support (like a bra).  People define themselves in part by their associations.  There are many mentions of groups and families:  Japanese, French, American, Foreigners, The World Cultures Fair, The Campus Police, Lesbians, Vampires, sisters.   And everyone defines themselves in part by their external experiences:

 

·         The minions can’t understand bathing because they’ve never done it.

·         Willow can’t understand what it’s like to lose a mother.

·         Spike can understand a thing or two about evil.

·         Willow can now understand what it is like for Buffy to have a dependent.

 

And so, by being in the world, they become part of the whole.  There are many apologies and condolences issued in the episode – I could make a list of the times the word “sorry” is used, but it would take too long.  And there many instances of the mention of blame and responsibility, as Buffy explains to her professor about dropping out, as she explains her recent challenges to Dawn’s principal, as Ben tries to explain himself to his supervisor, and as Dawn tells Spike (and then Buffy) about her fears that she is at fault for all the terrible happenings.

 

In all this, our characters are acknowledging that the world impacts them, and that they impact the world – and that it matters.  Things change.  People can effect change, and People can be changed.  People become strong and independent not only so that they might better survive alone if need be, but also to better find their place in the world, to better serve their community.  In Spike’s failed attempt to reach out and stroke Dawn’s hair, we see it:  The need, even for our Evil Soulless Thing, to commune with others.  Even Glory finds the truth in Tara’s blood.   This is most notably represented in this ep with the repeated use of the words “listen” and “learn,” and related images – here’s just one example among several:


BUFFY:  “Dawn needs an authority figure.  A strong guiding hand.  She’ll listen to you.”

GILES:  “Just like you always have.”

BUFFY:  “I listen.  I do!”


We listen, we learn.  We speak, we teach.  We help.  We hurt.  We give.  We take.  We ask.  We answer.  We support.  We betray.  We exert power, authority, influence - and we concede to the same.  We love.  We are loved.  We nudge and we are nudged toward growth – or we coerce others, or we are coerced ourselves, perhaps by genteel former librarians who pop and crack a few of our joints, or by sisters who offer us gold stars – into action, into change.  In short, we live in the world. 

 

To live is to grow older.  To live is to change.  To live successfully is to know how and when to effect change in others, and how and when to allow change in ourselves.

 

Things change.  Willow is changing before our very eyes:


TARA:  “It frightens me, how powerful you’re getting . . . I worry, sometimes.  You’re changing so much, so fast.  I don’t know where you’re heading.”

 

Willow’s reaction to Tara’s injury is purely about payback (“I owe you pain!”).  She doesn’t rush to The Magic Box, looking for ways to reverse the damage done to Tara – she chooses violent vengeance with such single-minded alacrity that I know that Tara was very right to be afraid of where Willow is heading.  (Note also, the foreshadowing in Giles’ earlier words of advice to Willow:  “You’ll feel better when you’ve made your apologies and you’ll know that you can fight without the world-ending.”)

 

It’s quite a trick, to know the difference between the legitimate use, and the illegitimate abuse, of power:  One brings deserved and positive results; the other reaps only rebellion and negative consequences.  One is about achieving a nobler end; the other is purely about payback.  Notice that Glory’s discovery of Dawn’s Keyhood is a direct consequence of Willow’s rampage.  Foreshadowing Willow’s upcoming “Lethe’s bramble” forgetting spell on Tara, notice also how the argument between Tara & Willow is resolved – with Tara now completely compliant (WILLOW:  “That’s my girl.”)  It will be awhile before Willow understands that true happiness in love cannot be found through magical solutions.  She must be willing to do, and must believe herself capable of doing, the work - and taking the risks - involved in loving another person for exactly who they are, not who you might mold them to be.  (GILES:  “Everyone wants petrified hamsters, but they’re never happy with them.”)

 

It’s all about love – the things you do for love, and the things love does for you.  Tough Love continues this season’s – this series’ – exploration of the ambiguity of love and hate, and of good and evil.  I notice in particular Spike’s understanding of Willow, his surprising definition of himself as “not good” but “OK” (in contrast to last week’s Spike-dictated words from the Buffybot:  “evil” and “sinister”), his gentleness with Dawn, and his suddenly subtle and helpful declarations of love for Buffy.  And I wonder about the impact of last week’s genuine Buffy-kiss.  I wonder about the effect of the love of a good woman, upon a bad man. 

 

Spike is not a man of course; he’s a monster.  He’s a thing.  But, as Buffy notes in this episode, things change.

 

Spicy extras for James Marsters fans:

 

·         Not enough Spike.  But he does looks sexy in this episode, despite the bruising.  The hair is all curly again, and you gotta love that.

·         That scene with Dawn – the way Spike is reaching out to touch her, and pulling back, the way he tries to reassure her and love her without giving himself away – really nicely done by both James and Michelle.  Her innocent sincerity, her guileless trust in him, is impacting him far beyond what any “begging in general,” or promises of gold stars, or threats of foster care, or the application of painful force, could ever accomplish with anyone. 

·         Notice how Glory’s minion, whose loyalty is based on fear, betrays his master as soon as Giles hurts him – while both Spike last week, and Tara, this week, do not betray Dawn despite the pain that is inflicted upon them.  Again, we are looking at the power of love, the ultimate triumph of good over evil.  Spike is going to win out over his demon because, underneath all the mess and horror that has happened (and will happen), a very real and mutual exchange of love has been, and is happening (and will continue to happen) between him and those around him (most significantly with those irresistible Summers women). 

·         And, as we learn in this episode, Buffy really likes poetry.  She really does.  She thinks she’ll only have time for a short poem.  Like William, Buffy is going to die while “the inks are still wet.”  But she – and William, in his fashion – will be getting a second chance at composition.

 

***

 

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