You know, for someone who was constantly changing her clothes because of all the make-up sex she was having in this episode, Tara is surprisingly coiffed and accessorized here. Normally, I didn't care for the hair-oh-no-they-di'n'ts and jewelry they tried on Tara, but I think she looks adorable with these pigtails and simple, dangly earrings. I don't even mind the flower necklace. I'm thankful that she gets to look dignified right before she... Sniffle! Well, you know what happens.

I'll start by admitting that Death's Daughter isn't something that I would usually read. I have and do read science fiction/fantasy novels but the stories, written by authors such as Ursula Le Guin, Marge Piercy, and Octavia Butler, have had a pretty blatant second-wave feminist social commentary element to them. In fact, I would say that the feminism part supersedes the fantasy part of these novels.

In contrast, Amber Benson's first novel written all by her lonesome, rather than with sometime writing partner Christopher Golden, is very much a novel based in mythology with the fantasy elements at the forefront. Benson has called it a combination of fantasy and chicklit, and that description is fairly apt. Death's Daughter is intended as a fluffy, quick, entertaining read, and it does work on that level to an extent. However, the novel lacks what most engages me in the fluffy novels I usually read: an appealing main character.

Even though Calliope is supposedly in her twenties, her narrative voice sounds more like that of a teenager, which causes the book to read like a young adult novel with too much sex and too much violence. Callie is shallow, whiny, and self-involved, and Benson's choice to give a fashionista slant to her character disappoints because it's unoriginal. The literary world has no need of yet another Carrie Bradshaw or Rebecca Bloomwood, and perhaps because in real life Benson seems to have little concern for designers and labels, all of the name dropping of high-fashion heavyweights felt very artificial. I gritted my teeth and plowed through the first part of the book because I had to believe that Benson was writing Callie as so superficial and selfish so that she could be changed by the experiences that lay ahead. While Callie did show some evidence of character development, she never did transform into someone I liked. However, Benson does beat the crap out of her for 300 or so pages, so that's something to consider.

Eventually I started tuning out Calliope, but I didn't get bored. The story clips along at a good pace, and I enjoyed Benson's take on how Hell works and on Hindu mythology, with a little bit of Greek and Norse thrown in. I liked that she explored how immortality works in regards to the not getting killed. Something I've always been curious about: how do immortal people age? But Benson's version of Kali differs quite a bit from my imagining. I envision her as more wrathful rather than just peevish. I also really liked Runt and Clio, who seems much more mature than her supposedly older sister. Plus, Clio is the "Willow character," and I always have a soft spot for smart, nerdy girls, especially if they wear Buddy Holly glasses.

The chicklit portion of the novel is fairly light. The romance subplot does not conclude as is expected of the genre, and I was pleased that the story's main trajectory was not about Callie getting the guy. Instead, the plot focuses principally on Callie's hero's journey, completing her tasks to become Death and rescuing her father. While Callie certainly becomes more confident as the book progresses, I was disappointed that she never found complete autonomy. I wish that she could have completed one of her tasks by herself.

The male characters, at least the supernatural ones, seem to fall into two categories: diabolical or sacrificial. Vritra, the Devil, Marcel, and Indra all scheme and manipulate women, while Daniel and Jarvis sacrifice themselves to assure that Callie completes her journey. Callie's father is probably the only exception to this dichotomy, but he appears very little in the novel. The human men are decidedly less assertive and heroic with Callie's blind date failing to catch her eye physically speaking and her vegan co-worker fainting after seeing Jarvis. The women in the novel, with perhaps the exception of Clio, are all ball-busters of a sort but that does not necessarily translate to their seeming empowered. Though none come across as helpless, most become victims of men's manipulation.

Benson narrates the novel in a very conversational tone that's a little too familiar for my taste. There were several times that Benson repeated herself, conveying the same information through both Callie's thoughts and subsequent dialogue. For example:

How the hell am I supposed to know what I'm doing? I thought to myself. It's not like there's a book on the subject.

"Hey, you don't have to yell at me. It's not like anyone gave me an instruction manual—"

Just the dialogue would have sufficed. I also disliked Benson's use of the word "bitch" but more on a feminist level. Callie chastises Clio for referring to the Gopi as "bitches" but Callie herself uses the word several times throughout the novel. The sisters use the word differently – Clio refers to women being a man's "bitches," and Callie uses it as a derogatory term for a disagreeable woman – but I personally fail to see the word as anything but oppressive in any context. I vote that women leave "bitch" unclaimed.

But I do not wish to seem too negative. Death's Daughter is Benson's first solo novel, and I'm sure that she will grow as a novelist just as she has grown as a screenwriter. This novel is supposedly the first of a trilogy, and at this point I would be willing to read a sequel. The prose may not be perfect, but Death's Daughter is very readable and, like I said, I enjoyed Benson's take on mythology. My favorite bit: "...you, and the other Evangelical Christian sinners, would spend your days of punishment sewing sequins on all the gaffs for the Devil's favorite cabaret, The Gay Minority Demons' Drag Show."

Hmmm...but should I be overly sensitive and take that sentence to imply that gay people are demons? Eh, I'll give Benson a pass on that one because I know what an awesome ally she is to the queer community. She has said that she doesn't have any gay characters in this series yet, and of the characters in this novel I would guess that Clio has the most queer potential. I mean, short hair, dorky glasses, owns a white tank top, likes animals? Stereotypes, yes, but sometimes stereotypes exist for a reason. That list describes at least six lesbians that I know. OK, so Clio seems to have a thing for Indra in this book, but I would attribute that to whatever mojo he seems to work on the ladies. Or it would be fine if she were bisexual as long as she didn't turn evil or become an assassin. There's been enough of that already.

I wouldn't call "Who Are You?" one of my favorite Buffy episodes, but it's definitely a season-four highlight even though it leads to an appearance of sanctimonious and downright unlikable Buffy in "Sanctuary." I love the dynamic between Faith and Buffy, and even though you know they're stunt doubles, there's just something viscerally appealing about watching these two characters fight. Eliza Dushku tries to play all coy at "Oh, people thought Faith and Buffy had this deep down love for one another, I'm not sure why," but how can we not think that when she's saying lines like, "Let's have another go at it. See who lands on top," so dirty-like.

But as much as I like this episode, I’m always slightly annoyed by the TV conceit that a character’s closest friends and family wouldn’t realize that a body switch happened. Or short of that, that they wouldn't at least realize something was wrong. Especially when Faith is being about as discreet as a foghorn in some scenes. At least Tara notices. I really like Amber Benson’s performance in this episode. I love her delivery of "She was kind of mean," and her small, pained smile after Faith teases her about stuttering breaks my heart every time. But I don't like how Tara confronts Willow about being kept a secret from her friends. I wish Joss had found a less passive-aggressive way to get to the "I am, you know...Yours." But otherwise, Tara is very endearing here and it’s nice that she gets to be the intuitive one, even though it's at the expense of making Joyce, Willow, Riley, and Spike look like idiots. Well, I don't really care that Spike looks like an idiot. Or Riley either, actually. But note to Riley: if your girlfriend starts coming on to you sexually in a completely different way than she has before, even if you can't figure out that her soul has been mystically swapped with that of a self-loathing psychopath, maybe you shouldn't have sex with her. Try talking about it next time.

This episode is obviously a showcase for Sarah Michelle Gellar's fantastic mimicking skills that she puts to use again in seasons five and six with her portrayal of the Buffy-bot. At times in this episode I think she goes a little over-the-top with the physical mannerisms, but they're not too distracting. Her delivery is spot-on, and she even takes a stab at saying "about" the way Eliza Dushku does. (Is that a Boston accent? I've always been curious. It sounds almost Canadian to me.) But SMG doesn’t wear leather pants quite as well as Eliza does. Sorry, Sarah.

Yes, Eliza’s performance doesn’t stand out as much as SMG’s, but to be fair Buffy doesn’t have as many obvious mannerisms as Faith does. Buffy puts her hands on her hips a lot when she is speechifying and crosses her arms for various reasons, but that’s all I can think of offhand. Faith is a psychologically traumatized murderer while Buffy is a pretty average college student: these actors can play Faith a little more heightened where Buffy should be more subdued. Buffy also spends half of this episode tied up or semi-conscious, which means that Eliza doesn’t have as much obviously Buffy dialogue as SMG has Faith dialogue. The only time I felt like Eliza really wasn't Buffy was when she threatens to kill one of the Council's goons. I think Eliza rocks Buffy's conversation with Giles, giving especially the “What’s a stevedore?” line a perfect SMG-style delivery.

Ah, the "Passage to the Nether Realm" spell (snigger!), also known as the big flaming O. (OK, but why a "flaming" O? There isn’t any fire. I think it's more of a sparkly O.) I admit that when I first saw this episode I didn’t quite realize the sexual connotation of the spell. I remember thinking, "Huh. That spell is a lot of work. Look how sweaty they are." I was 16 and very naive. Now that I’m, um, more informed, I’m amazed that they got away with it, especially in combination with Faith's pretty sexually explicit conversation with Spike. The spell could have been really hokey, but Joss manages to make it sexy, even though both actors have all their clothes on and are only touching hands. Hmm, a metaphorical lesbian sex scene directed by a man that eroticizes hands? Not bad, Joss. You might even argue that because it's not a literal sex scene Joss could actually show more, i.e. Willow "comes" in a more graphic way than I usually see on network TV.

Though "This Year's Girl" and Angel episodes "Five by Five" and "Sanctuary" don't quite measure up to "Who Are You?" I like Faith's post-coma arc because it leads to the Faith of "Orpheus," the Faith who is trying to make amends. Also, her reappearance in season seven of Buffy was a small bit of happiness in an incredibly boring season.

Since being rudely killed off Buffy, Amber Benson hasn't had much of a presence on television. She only has a handful of guest appearances to her name in the past, gulp, seven years, but she has done some interesting stuff that has been worth seeking out.

Cold Case: "Volunteers"

Her first TV appearance post-Buffy was in an episode of Cold Case playing a radical who helped women obtain illegal abortions in the 1960s. I haven't seen the episode, and I'm not sure I ever will because the show has yet to be released on DVD. I've never been able to make it through an episode of Cold Case because I find it overly sentimental, so it's doubtful that I would watch "Volunteers" even if there were DVD box sets. Oh, but Katee Sackhoff is in that episode too... OK, I definitely would watch it now having seen that picture of Amber and Katee. That's the stuff slash is made of right there.


The Inside: "The Perfect Couple"

On Angel writer/producer Tim Minear's short-lived series The Inside, Amber plays the psychopathic girlfriend of an equally psychopathic serial rapist. Not only does Amber sexy-dance with pretty women, but she gets to torment a shirtless guy strapped to a chair. There's also a lot of gross tongue-kissing between Amber and Matt Keeslar, who plays her boyfriend. You know people are really evil if they tongue-kiss.

Now Tara will always have a special place in my heart, but for me it doesn't get much better than watching Amber terrorize Steve Sandvoss with a belt. Vamp Willow would meet her soulmate in Allison Davis, I think. Amber really freaks me out in this role. Allison has a vulnerability reminiscent of Tara, but Amber switches it off in an instant and brings twelve kinds of creepy to the table. The episode as a whole doesn't entirely work for me though, because Keeslar's character doesn't disturb me half as much as Amber's. Roddy is unimaginatively written to begin with, but I also find Keeslar's performance underwhelming. And there's an awkwardly written scene in which Roddy oinks (???) at Allison that doesn't work very well.


Supernatural: "Bloodlust"

In "Bloodlust" Amber plays a vampire...with a soul! No, not really. She's a vampire...with a chip in her head! OK, so maybe she's more like a vampire with a will to survive who has chosen to stop feeding on humans so that vampire hunters will stop trying to kill her. The episode is all about the gray area between good and evil with Lenore's non-human-eating posse o' vamps obviously challenging the main characters' ideas of what makes someone evil. In this context, I think Amber was really a very smart casting move. While she certainly brings her acting talents to this role, she also brings her association with Tara that many sci-fi fans recognize. Because people connect her with sweet, good-natured Tara, they are likely to sympathize more readily with her character, even though she's a vampire, rather than the single-minded demon hunter who's her foil in this episode, which only further emphasizes its theme.

This performance is my favorite of Amber's guest spots so far. Even though she doesn't have that much screen time, I think she creates Lenore as a multi-faceted character, managing to be both menacing and maternal, which she does through some very effective leaning and touching. I've always thought that Amber was really good at touching people. Not in a naughty way, but in a way that creates a familiarity between her character and others and fleshes out their relationship beyond what the dialogue may convey. It's probably a good part of why I bought Willow and Tara's relationship even though they couldn't show much physical affection. Amber also gives a very good menacing lean.

I was surprised how much I liked Supernatural. It's no Buffy but it's not bad. This episode also represents my "Six (Thousand) Degrees of Amber Benson" because I went to the same high school as Jensen Ackles, one of the stars of the series.


Private Practice: "Finishing"

I'm happy to see Amber on a TV show that gets decent ratings numbers, but I really don't like Private Practice. I find the characters annoying and the writing not very good, opinions that this episode only reaffirmed. "Finishing" needlessly spans three or four months and gives short shrift to the myriad subplots it attempts to include. Besides the incestuous little goings-on of the main cast, this episode features three client-driven stories, one about a young girl with a heart condition who wishes to end her treatment, one about a woman worried about a miscarriage, and another about a woman (Amber) who was brutally attacked and wants to regain her memory so that she can prosecute the man who beat her. I guess the writers decided that Amber's storyline wasn't as salacious or manipulative as their usual fare because they included only the bare bones of a victim's reclamation of power plot, resulting in pretty generic storytelling. While Amber is fine in her role, it's difficult for her to make much of an impression with such little screen time contained in such short scenes. She looks really horrible (and I mean that as a compliment) in her first scenes though. Nice job, make-up department, but curses on you, wardrobe. Why is she dressed like she's 45?

Amber has hardly been slacking off since leaving Buffy, directing and writing films, writing novels and comics, and appearing in several independent and TV movies. I'm glad that she has been keeping busy and that she seems to be happy with her most recent writing gig. But I miss having her on my TV every week.

Amber Benson's third film DRONES is in post-production at the moment and will probably be shopped around to film festivals soon.

Unlike her first two films, Benson didn't pen this one – the screenwriting credit goes to Ben Acker and Ben Blacker of The Thrilling Adventure and Supernatural Suspense Hour. She also co-directed the comedy about office employees who might be aliens with significant other Adam Busch.*

Besides the fact that there will apparently be some accordion music, I know very little about the film. In fact, I didn't even know it was about office employees until very recently.

In mulling over the title prior to knowing this office angle, I considered it could be about robots. Or bees. Maybe even robot bees. Hopefully it's not about those little spy planes. My musings eventually led me to the idea of a down-and-dirty musical (à la Romance & Cigarettes) with Amber Benson singing about robots while wearing a bee costume.

Um, could someone please get on making that happen? Because that would be AWESOME.

Adam Busch could also break out his harp and toga (along with some indie rockin') and that wouldn't suck either.

*I was tempted to write "significant other and literal character assassin" but I didn't. The Tara-Warren connection still amuses me even though I'm sure the irony has long worn off for them.

Amber Benson's second film Lovers, Liars & Lunatics shows a lot of growth in her skills as both a director and screenwriter when comparing it to 2002's Chance, her first movie that Benson has described as her film school experience. Filmed on digital video and featuring not just a few actors, wardrobe, and locations from Benson's TV alma mater Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Chance does feel like Benson's head-first dive into filmmaking. The film has a very homemade quality, which comes with both its charms and its drawbacks.

While Lovers, Liars & Lunatics is definitely still a "family" affair, the film has a much more polished veneer, due in no small part to it being shot on film rather than DV. But Benson definitely seems more confident in her direction as well. I was pleased to see wider shots (some of the close-ups in Chance are a bit claustrophobic) and Benson uses much more camera movement to good effect. One of the shots really bugs me though. When Elaine keeps turning off Paddy's basketball game, the TV isn't actually in frame so Elaine has to walk in and out of frame to switch off the game, which seems unnatural. My only guess at why Elaine isn't standing next to the TV, which would make more sense given that she turns it off at least 3 times, is that the filmmakers couldn't afford to purchase a clip to show on the TV. Anyway, the pacing also feels a lot more even, which is possibly due to the script as well.

Even though the story takes a little while to get going, the screenplay has a lot more depth and complexity. While Chance is a pretty standard love story, Lovers, Liars & Lunatics doesn't follow any formulas I've seen. I think it's best described as a dark screwball comedy/caper movie, and it has a bit of an old-Hollywood feel since it takes place in pretty much one location. The comedy feels a lot more natural, both coming out of and forming character. And Lovers, Liars & Lunatics is funny. I snicker out loud at least four or five times whenever I watch it, which is unusual for me with repeat viewings. However, the characters feel a little generic. I think that Benson gets away with some genericalness (an actual word!) because of the screwy things going on, but I would have liked to have seen some more character moments to flesh out these individuals further. But the screenplay does do a good job at keeping almost all of the characters busy with their own little subplots. I'm also a little confused by the Viagra subplot. Paddy does take a couple, right? But he doesn't mention having an incurable erection anytime during the course of the film (thank goodness). Are we supposed to think that the Viagra caused his heart attack? It looks like Elaine puts the pills in a vitamin bottle, so I don't think she replaces his heart medication, but Viagra does list "severe hypotension" and "myocardial infarction" as possible side effects.

While all of the performances are solid, Christine Estabrook and Benson are the standouts. I can't figure out why I don't see Estabrook on TV all the time. From what I've seen of her in Benson's films, she has a gift at being funny, ridiculous even, and yet still very human and very real. She kills me every time when she tries to break a window using a toilet brush. As ditzy, sweet-natured Justine, Benson gives some of the best line deliveries in the film, particularly on lines like "Louis, look at the kitty. He's so fat," and "Harlequin romance isn't trash. It's literature." Those lines don't read like they would be particularly amusing, but Benson makes them laugh-out-loud funny. Cole Williams, Benson's co-star in Race You to the Bottom, has a fairly small part here as Gunner, but he always makes me snicker at his sleazy delivery of, "Sally? Baby, it's me." Besides Estabrook, Rayder Woods is the only other carry over from Benson's first film, and James Charles Leary, who played lovable demon Clem on Buffy, is the sole representative of the Whedon-verse.

I find the portrayals of masculinity in this film interesting because three of the main male characters are very much the same. Each character has its own flavor, but Paddy, Louis, and Gunner essentially perform their masculinity the same way. All three are aggressive, controlling, and belittling to women they're not trying to sleep with. Julian, the only male character who doesn't fit that description, has been labeled gay because he performs his masculinity in a way that the other men do not recognize. But by the end of the film even Julian resorts to aggression, punching his oppressive brother. When Paddy and Elaine investigate a noise that they hear in the night, Paddy tells Elaine that he is scared too, and Elaine then says she thought men didn't get scared. I find that exchange interesting because as well as hinting at why Paddy might feel dissatisfied with his marriage, namely that Elaine places expectations for him that he cannot meet, that bit of dialogue obviously reflects a dominant construction of masculinity in popular culture. I won't venture so far to say that Benson intends to comment on the construction and reinforcement of gender roles with this film, but I find it interesting that Louis, Paddy, and Gunner embody the arguable results of that definition of masculinity.

As with Chance, sex and how it functions in different relationships is prominent throughout the film. In particular, the script explores sex intertwined with manipulation. Gloria uses sex to manipulate Paddy so that she can take his money, and Paddy in turn withholds sex from Elaine. Gunner plies Sally with alcohol and falsehoods ("You can't get pregnant on the first time") to coax her into letting him take her virginity. And in regards to Louis and Justine's relationship, Louis seems to use sex to maintain control over Justine. It certainly appears to be the only time when Louis isn't belittling Justine, and he definitely uses sex to control her body, slapping her behind, and not in a friendly way, as she climbs out of a doggie door. When Louis tries to persuade Elaine to give him money, the first tactic he tries is sex. With the exception of Gloria, women are the victims of sexual manipulation here. Elaine becomes a victim seemingly because she cares about her family (awful!), Justine because she directly communicates her sexual desires (scandalous!), and Sally because she just seems confused (stupid ineffectual sex education!).

All of the main characters seem restrained in some way from really connecting with each other. The Raye Family spends the bulk of the film tied to chairs, but even before the break-in they seem separated, sheltered (or in Julian's case more like confined) in their respective rooms. Even Paddy and Elaine in their shared bed are separated by Elaine's earplugs. During the course of the robbery, Louis even separates them into different rooms because they keep fighting with each other. I also like the image of both Paddy and Gunner walking with chairs tied to their backs, hauling around what prevents them from connecting with their family. With Louis and Justine, their ski masks seem to represent a barrier in their relationship. When they have their tryst in the Rayes' kitchen, Louis has his mask pushed up so that his face is visible but Justine keeps hers on, suggesting that Justine can see all of Louis while he perhaps doesn't see Justine for who she is outside the context of their sexual relationship.

The ending gets a little crazy and, for a comedy, generates a pretty high body count, which includes Benson's character. (Amber. We don't like to see you get shot. We don't like to see you die in general, but we especially don't like to see you get shot. Please stop doing that.) But the ending definitely feels earned by the preceding minutes of the film and somehow strangely appropriate even though it may not resolve everything enough to some people's liking. Overall, I think Lovers, Liars & Lunatics is pretty entertaining and a solid sophomore film from Benson.

See, Amber, you claim that you're not looking down Alyson's dress, but if you're not staring at her boobs then what are you looking at?

Ahh! Look at teeny tiny Danny Strong on the end there. He's so little!

Race You to the Bottom is a character study that delves into the sometimes complex feelings that can arise between straight women and their gay male friends. Besides issues of negotiating one's sexuality, Russell Brown's first feature film explores being in one's mid-twenties and trying to transition into the responsibilities of adulthood. However, neither Nathan, a gay travel writer, nor Maggie, a temp with a political science degree, has the maturity to handle those responsibilities, and they are drawn together by their need for romantic escape. Though Maggie has a steady boyfriend, his apparent depression prevents him from fulfilling Maggie's emotional and sexual needs. She is drawn to Nathan's charisma and sleeping with him assuages her insecurities about her body. For serial seducer Nathan, his relationship with Maggie most likely began as a standard flirtation, but as the film begins he confronts his increasing affection for her.

As insecure, vulnerable Maggie, Amber Benson turns in a beautifully textured performance. From her first appearance on screen she imbues the film with energy and warmth. Even as Maggie becomes nastier toward Nathan, Benson never loses the audience's sympathy, giving each of Maggie's actions an undercurrent of desperation. Maggie is one of a string of characters in Benson's recent work who are unapologetically sexual beings, and Benson continues to choose projects that address matters of sexuality.


Co-star Cole Williams' performance is solid though not as affecting. At times Williams' acting comes across as a performance, but that tendency may have been a deliberate choice given Nathan's manipulative nature. Despite Nathan's brash veneer, Williams is charismatic and compelling, giving the audience enough glimpses of Nathan's humanity to make him more than just a one-dimensional character. Williams gives Nathan a certain flamboyance but he never crosses over into "screaming queen" territory. I don't know whether Williams identifies as straight or queer, but he doesn't balk at his intimate scenes with other men as some young actors worried about their careers might. Though Benson and Williams click as friends and companions, they do not generate quite the sexual heat needed for some of the steamier scenes. Benson had better romantic chemistry with Buffy co-star Alyson Hannigan. Making a lot of a small part, Justin Zachary leaves an impression as Maggie's cuckolded boyfriend.


Though some of the directorial flairs distract, Race You to the Bottom is beautifully filmed. The color palette and photography give the film an almost nostalgic presentation, which contributes to the romantic fantasy world that Nathan and Maggie have created for themselves. Surprising for a contemporary film, Kristen Anacker's wardrobe is a highlight. Nathan's clothing projects his pretensions, especially the corduroy jacket and open-collar shirt he wears for most of the film, which I thought of as a slightly dated ensemble of an intellectual. Maggie's clothes reflect a burgeoning sexuality slightly hindered by a lingering child-like quality. My favorite of Maggie's ensembles couples a sexy red boatneck and short black skirt with a pair of canvas sneakers. I also thought Ryan Beveridge's score was a lovely addition.

The film's main weakness is the script, which is choppy at times and overwritten. Brown's writing doesn't demonstrate enough trust in his actors to convey some of the emotional beats. However, I do like Brown's willingness to linger in gray areas. During Maggie and Nathan's first big fight, both characters are portrayed as doing the right thing: Maggie for telling Nathan that she is in love with him and Nathan for refusing to say something insincere in response. The ending is also nicely ambiguous. And the flashback structure works amazingly well with the exception of one or two of the scenes.

Though not a perfect film, Brown's directorial debut is a solid effort and worth a viewing for the beautiful scenery and Amber Benson's performance.

That painting is a horrible likeness. That's like the wicked stepmother version of Amber.

With the sign in the background declaring who rocks harder.

No, no, I'm kidding. I have nothing against Iyari Limon just...you know, Willow's other girlfriend. Yuck. I don't even like to say her name.

I have not been so depressed by a family film since I finally saw Bambi in its entirety when I was fourteen. Writer-director Andrew Erin's second full-length feature begins on a dour sequence -- a father and son attending the funeral of their wife and mother -- and ends with a note that isn't that much happier when the father saves his son from dying of an asthma attack. The somber tone prevails throughout the film, alleviated only occasionally by the natural, disarming performance of young Channing Nichols. This film is practically a study of depression, isolation, and loss.

The premise of the film is not unfamiliar: a doctor from a large city opens a practice in a small town. However, the impetus that gets Dr. Gibbs to North Carolina seems rather contrived. I would have preferred that he move because he needed to relocate after his wife's death. The impulse is not an uncommon one. The plot of Simple Things does not offer much in the way of surprises, relying on tried and true plot devices of the family film genre. But Simple Things handles them with more subtlety than most. My main argument with the script is that I have difficulty believing that people living in a community 20-30 minutes away from Asheville would be so antagonistic toward outsiders. Sure, Asheville is not a large city, but it draws a lot of tourists. I'd imagine that the people would see "city folk" fairly frequently.

The film features many solid performances, with those of Nichols and Amber Benson standing out particularly. The only actor who seems out of his depth is Cameron Bancroft. His performance feels wooden at times, which works to an extent given that he is grieving his wife; however, as the film progresses his demeanor doesn't change much even though Evan warms to his environment.

This film looks fantastic. Brian Baugh's cinematography does justice to the beauty of North Carolina's mountains. However, the editing felt a little rough at points, most notably when Dr. Gibbs sees Sally and Darryl at the dance (was the actual baby only available for those insert shots?) and when Darryl is demanding that Dr. Gibbs help April (Sally just seems to appear).

After watching the film, I can't say that I have a strong desire to view it again. The film wasn't poorly made or poorly acted, but the story didn't allow for me to connect with enough of the characters to endure that theater of pain a second time.

Amber Benson's debut as a writer/director tackles issues of sexuality and relationships to a less than successful end. But considering this film in its context — a completely unschooled young actor's first attempt at film making — I see a lot of potential. Most of the film, while choppy, is entertaining, and the characters are engaging. Shedding their Buffy personae completely, Benson and James Marsters tackle their roles with enthusiasm. Christine Estabrook also gives a strong performance, and scenes with these characters generally work. Lara Boyd Rhodes also turns in a nice little supporting bit, playing a one-note character with a really marvelous note: "I type." But the last twenty or so minutes kind of fall apart in a spectacular fashion.

Chance explores sex and how it functions for different people and in different relationships. Because of a previous bad relationship in which her boyfriend used sex for manipulation, Chance has stripped sex of its meaning. Insecure about his body, Simon shies away from any kind of interaction, so he needs to feel a real connection to a woman to become intimate with her. Jack sees sex as comforting, a way to connect with people. The film also plays at reversing gender roles with the male characters -- Simon, Rory, Malcolm -- needing emotional connection in their sexual relationships, while the female characters experiment sexually and are sexually aggressive, with Chance possessing something of a "get some, get gone" attitude. More obviously Chance and Simon literally switch gender roles for the day when Chance's mother visits.

Good narration is nigh on impossible to write. Off hand, I can only think of a few movies that do it well, rather than simply not embarrassingly: Notes on a Scandal, The Man Who Wasn't There, and The Opposite of Sex, which actually satirizes traditional narration. While Chance's narration does have a snappy line or two, the voiceover mostly dwells in over-explanation. Benson relies on the narration to tell the viewer about a character's traits, like Simon's obsession with time, instead of just actually showing the viewer. The narration also needlessly informs the viewer of things readily apparent, like Chance's love of tormenting Simon. Probably the strongest, or at least my favorite scene of the film — a conversation between Chance and Simon in the bathroom as she gets ready to go out for the evening — is narration-free and allows the actors and dialogue to define the relationship between Simon and Chance. I think it's really a very good scene in general, not just within the context of this film. Besides the narration, the other part of the film that really does not work for me is the inclusion of the troubadour. While the songs themselves are fine, the performance bits just do not seem to mesh with the rest of the movie.

Simon doesn't receive quite the character development that he deserves. One of the earlier scenes that I believe Benson intended to provide character development functions as a better introduction for the nameless couple whose presence in the film could have been edited out completely. The scene does establish Simon's approach to interacting with people, namely firmly removed from the conversation, but I think that the scene would have worked better for me had one person in the couple been Simon's co-worker. The scene needed a little more context than just "outside some building."

The introduction of the strange neighbor is rather cartoony, and the story would have been better served if his first appearance occurred more naturally, for example, in the scene in which he helps Simon scare away the pizza delivery guy. I see the purpose of including the neighbor, but the conclusion of his story arc is bungled as he delivers a Heartfelt Lesson About Herself for Chance. That scene should have been excised from the film — Benson could be looking at a lawsuit for all of the anvils that drop during that exchange. But she looks fabulous while they're falling.

Jack also is underused and underdeveloped, though serving an important purpose in the latter part of the film. His dialogue is also extremely awkward, though consistently so. Perhaps Benson intended for Jack to make poor conversation?

The conclusion of the film isn't earned and lacks dramatic tension. The appearances of Neighbor Guy and Grocery Store Guy attempt to distract the viewer from the fact that Chance IS JUST SITTING AROUND for the last twenty minutes of the film, but the scenes are so odd that they create the opposite effect. The characters also begin making broad generalizations and statements about themselves and each other that the preceding minutes of the film do not support.

I like Amber Benson. I respect that she realizes the significance of Willow and Tara's relationship to the LGBT community and she treats her relationship with that community, that she maybe unknowingly forged, with some gravity. I also admire her steadfastness in refusing to super-skinnify herself just to win roles. I think she has a lovely figure and it is refreshing to see an actress with actual hips. I look forward to viewing her second film, Lovers, Liars, and Lunatics, to see how she has grown as a screenwriter and director.

I hope that the following statement is obvious: Joss Whedon & Co. would have taken crap about having lesbian characters on Buffy no matter what. Inevitably when anyone is portraying characters from non-dominant social groups, someone somewhere will complain about the authenticity/fairness of representation/appeal/hairstyle of that character. That said, I have adverse emotions toward the Willow/Tara relationship. Mostly I come down on the side of “Not great, but thanks for trying.”

Willow’s a Lesbian?
As I mentioned in my previous post about Buffy, the character of Willow really drew me to the show. As many people more eloquent than I have commented, despite Willow’s “sidekick” status the average viewer relates to the sweet, awkward outcast with a long unrequited crush on her best friend more readily than the petite, pretty blonde with superpowers. When a love interest for Willow, besides Xander, was finally trotted out, he was burdened with having to be pretty fantastic to be good enough for our Willow. And Oz was, in fact, probably the most perfect boyfriend ever. The chemistry between Alyson Hannigan and Seth Green was not based so much on sexual tension but caring, respect, and genuine affection — a factor not often present in most TV teen romances.

Then came Tara. I know people disagree with me, but I thought that Willow and Tara had chemistry, and more of the sexual tension variety, from the beginning. From their first conversation, I thought that they had a strange energy that I couldn’t quite define. As their implied romantic relationship became more explicit, I realized, “Oh! Homoerotism. That’s what that is.” But when Willow and Tara finally outed themselves in "New Moon Rising," I was initially resistant. I think that I would have resisted Willow being with anyone who wasn't Oz, and perhaps I would have resisted a male love interest more than a female one. I also resisted Tara because the writers failed to give her much of a personality when she first appeared. She was Willow: Reloaded, but lacking most of season-one Willow's quirky charm.

Willow’s transition from heterosexual to homosexual relationships was handled roughly. I enjoyed the scene in which Willow outs herself to Buffy in “New Moon Rising,” saying that her relationship with Tara was not something that she was looking for but that it was powerful. Perhaps due to my own experience, I appreciate the presentation of Willow’s sexuality as fluid — she is attracted to whom she is attracted. In season five though, the writers enter black-and-white territory and Willow describes herself as just “Gay now” in "Triangle," and in "Intervention" Buffybot’s read-out screen says about Willow “Gay (1999-present).”** But season five does offer an interesting scene that explores their relationship with more depth. In the appropriately titled "Tough Love," Willow and Tara argue when Tara implies she worries Willow will decide to date men again. In that argument, Willow essentially says that she is committed to Tara and doesn’t think of their relationship as some experiment. But that conversation feels unfinished to me because Glory sucks Tara’s mind soon after, and we never see them reconciling that particular argument. I wish that we could have seen more scenes like that for the two of them, because I feel like the intricacies of relationships are revealed in disagreements (that do not lead to break-ups) and compromises. In season seven, Willow expresses her sexuality as less of an orientation switch than previously suggested. Much as she articulates to Tara in "Tough Love," Willow specifies to Kennedy in "The Killer in Me" that she didn't realize she was interested in women plural but a woman.

** Side note: Those two incidents also suggest that the show does not take a strictly biological approach to homosexuality, because both imply that there was a time in Willow's life when she was not gay. Maybe those silly jokes even imply that Willow chose to be gay when she started a relationship with Tara. If that assertion has any validity whatsoever then Willow is probably the best television portrayal of someone who is queer by choice. But maybe the jokes are simply evidence of the writers' conflation of gay identity and being in a gay relationship.

I both appreciate that Willow’s change in sexual preference did not cause a fuss and recognize that not making any fuss does a disservice to the characters and their friendships. While Buffy’s initial reaction of surprise and then support was nicely played, I think that it would have been appropriate for some follow-up weirdness or at least some questions. As an audience member, I struggled with what Willow and Tara’s relationship meant in regards to her previous relationship with Oz and her long-held crush on Xander. A scene in which Xander and Willow discuss those very issues, or even an extension of a scene in "Family" with Buffy and Xander talking about Tara, would have served everyone. And I think that they could have had such a conversation without making Willow's friends sound like jerks.

Authenticity
Unfortunately for both Tara and the Willow/Tara relationship, they were created at a time when the show's writing began to deteriorate. Season four featured one-note storylines for both Xander and Giles and the inclusion of a one-note character (Anya) as a cast member. Tara did not fare much better. In fact, Tara really didn't receive much character development until season six when Willow and Tara split up. One of the writers commented to the effect that the break-up really allowed Tara to come into her own as a character. ...Right. Because you want to wait two years to develop a recurring character. (The hell?) Willow and Tara's scenes also seemed to become the repository of clunky dialogue that attempted subtext (e.g. "I've been thinking about that last spell we did all day") and of the treacly sentimentality that suddenly appeared in season five (e.g. the final scene of "Family").

Some people have commented to the effect that they could never buy Willow and Tara as a gay couple, rather they seemed like two straight women just playing at being gay. Again, I think that Alyson and Amber managed to generate some real sexual chemistry at times, but I do think that they struggled to generate sexual tension when (see above) bad writing and treacly sentimentality were involved. Even the greatest actors playing a straight couple would have difficulty generating heat rather than barely concealed eye-rolls with some of the dialogue Willow and Tara were given.

Early in the relationship there also existed a mismatch of sorts between Willow and Tara concerning how much sexual attraction they conveyed. Amber really makes with the smoldering looks in episodes like "Who Are You?" and "Out of My Mind," but Alyson responds with the looks of fondness. I actually find these discrepancies fitting with the characters. Tara always seemed very certain in her attraction for women, while Willow had just ended a serious, two-year relationship with a man. And Alyson never really plays Willow as a very sensual/sexual being. Not to say that Alyson isn't sexy or can't bring the sexy. She very much brings the sexy-sexy in "The Wish" and "Doppelgangland" as Vamp Willow. Willow becomes sexier as the series progresses and she gains confidence, but sex is not an intrinsic part of Willow's character, as it is for characters like Faith and Spike. Scenes in "Restless," like the one in which Willow is painting her "homework" on Tara's back, fully establish Tara's sensuality, despite the wardrobe department's sincerest efforts to hide it with ill-fitting clothing.

Of course, discrepancies exist between the amount of heterosexual sexuality and homosexual sexuality portrayed within the show. Buffy and Riley go at it for an entire episode in season four ("Where the Wild Things Are") while Willow and Tara don't even kiss on-screen. Their first on-screen kiss doesn't happen until almost a year after their relationship begins. While I like that Joss did not want their first kiss to be a romantic-music-swelling, featured-in-promos bit of exploitation — and I consider their kiss in "The Body" to be one of the best same-sex kisses in TV and film — I think that a year was a bit too long to wait. However, I cannot determine how much of these discrepancies are the result of The WB and UPN's Standards & Practices or the result of Joss's choices. What I can determine is the crappy direction of the few sex scenes between Willow and Tara. The two explicit ones that I can recall ("Once More, With Feeling" and "Seeing Red") had a "lie back and think of England" quality to them. Even in the first naked-in-bed scene in "Seeing Red," Tara is all legs-splayed, glowing, and sexed-up while Willow is practically in a fetal position off to the side. Though I must say that none of the sex scenes in season six were particularly convincing, with some seeming anatomically impossible.

Seemingly, because they couldn’t show any actual affection between Willow and Tara — or, you know, show them within three feet of each other — the writers compromised by having Willow say the word “gay” a lot in supposedly humorous contexts. My favorite “Willow is gay” references are much more subtle: a hopped up on magic Willow causing a pencil to become “flaccid” in “Doublemeat Palace”; Willow commiserating with Xander about finding Dawn attractive in “Him”; Willow professing her disinterest in “tool talk” in “Never Leave Me.”

Tara’s Death/Dark Willow
Joss' transformation of the season four and five metaphor of magic as lesbian sex to the season six metaphor of magic as drug addiction also proved troubling for many viewers. First of all, I dislike the magic addiction/Dark Willow subplot in its entirety — the storyline proved a ham-fisted and boring exercise in pointless character assassination. No pun intended. And in this context shifting the meaning of the magic metaphor can easily be interpreted as homophobic. It also causes viewers to scrutinize Willow and Tara's relationship, giving new and possibly more disturbing connotations to previous encounters. For example, in probably what one could describe as their first "sexual" encounter, Willow and Tara link fingers and combine their magic to move a soda machine to block a doorway. In that moment, Willow particularly is excited by the power that she and Tara have when they combine their magic, which could suggest that Tara actually gave Willow her first taste of magic the drug. I thought her recognition of that power in season four seemed more, "Oh, my connection with my partner really empowers me" rather than Willow's "I can use my power to manipulate my partner" attitude in season six, and I want my interpretation to stay that way.

Do I think that Joss & Co. intended to demonize lesbianism in season six? No, but I cannot fault that interpretation. However, I do think that the writers attempted to distinguish the loving, gay sex white magic from the destructive, addictive dark magic, which is often characterized by masculine or heterosexual images. For example, the spell that Willow uses in "Bargaining" to revive Buffy at the beginning of season six definitely sets a disturbing tone for Willow's magic use of the season. That spell involves a couple of very phallic/masculine images, namely the stabbing (dagger = phallus) of the fawn and Willow vomiting up a snake. The snake coupled with the very yonic urn also give the spell a distinct implication of heterosexuality as well.

Dark Willow ultimately attempts to destroy the world by raising a Satanic temple from beneath the ground. Only the steeple of the temple — featuring a statue of Medusa (an “evil” woman who embraces a phallic symbol) no less — emerges from the ground making her tool of destruction distinctly phallic. Simultaneously, Dark Willow traps Buffy in the yonic symbol of the underground cave to prevent Buffy from stopping her. In her most destructive use of magic, Dark Willow both utilizes the phallus and dismisses the yonic, transforming the yonic into a hindrance, a prison.

Willow's use of dark magic also masculinizes her. When Dark Willow attacks Jonathan and Andrew in the Magic Box she says, "I'm just getting a wood for the violence." The Forget spell that causes Tara to break up with Willow is described as "violating" Tara's mind and is characterized by the masculine concept of invasion. Another moment that defines the different types of magic and perhaps foreshadows how magic will divide Willow and Tara occurs in “After Life.” Willow becomes impatient with the spell that she and Tara are performing together and dips into dark magic to perform the spell alone. Instead of embracing the more feminine tendency of cooperation, Willow isolates herself.

The primary figures that enable Willow's "addiction" to dark magic are Amy and Rack, both heterosexuals. Rack, in particular, has a couple of very sexually charged scenes with Willow in which he "takes a tour" of Willow magically and then she drains his magic. Rack even says that she "tastes like strawberries," a reference to the slang term "strawberry" or a person who has sex in exchange for drugs.

Examining the sexual relationships of season six, Willow and Tara's actually emerges as the healthiest, despite its problems. The episode "Entropy" comes to mind as an excellent illustration of the differences between homosexual and heterosexual relationships during that season and, in fact, the series. In that episode, Spike is sulking because of a recent break-up with Buffy, and Anya and Xander are hurting because Xander left Anya at the altar. Spike and Anya sleep together and Buffy and Xander accidentally catch them via a hidden camera. This story ends badly, of course, and the intertwining of those two subplots suggests that heterosexual relationships are ultimately only avenues for sex that will result in alienation and pain. However, the episode ends with Tara and Willow reuniting, with homosexual love enduring, offering caring and support. Indeed, their relationship ends when Warren, a misogynistic man who previously attempted to rape an ex-girlfriend and who exploits Andrew's obvious homosexual attraction to him, shoots Tara.

But really, Joss? You had to embrace both the dead lesbian and evil lesbian clichés?

A.T.
I do think that Tara's memory was tarnished by the events of season seven, and by that I mean that which dare not speak its name. OK, I will speak its name: Kennedy. Why would Willow date such a pushy, charmless brat? And she dates a pushy, charmless brat, like, five minutes after Tara dies. Where is the mourning? Where is the remorse for her Dark Willow actions? Again, five minutes and then nothing. Lots of nothing in general. Did season seven have a plot? Anyway, Willow and Tara's relationship was one of the first lesbian relationships on primetime TV, and good or bad it was an important piece of increasing the presence of LGBT characters on network television.