Oh, Joss. How you play with our hearts.

This post will be rife with Joss Whedon fan discussion (or commentary, since I think you need some kind of two-way conversation to qualify as discussion) and also spoilers regarding all episodes of Dollhouse (of which only one remains to air next week) and also of Firefly. I'll try not to really talk about Buffy or Angel very specifically because I'd like to keep this whole thing under a million words.

But seriously, if you aren't all Whedon-current, bail out now.

Imagine a world where all the Joss Whedon shows are merely teased and never realized. All of them. As in, imagine for a moment that Buffy ended, say, when Angel went to hell. Or that Angel ended when the Irish half-demon guy died. Doyle! I liked Doyle, man, why did he have to die? Because he's in Joss' world, and that is a damned unsafe place. It's not like other showrunners have never killed off a character or two, but seriously. Oh, Wash.

Dollhouse, the Whedon show whose destiny seemed doomed from the first episode, joins Firefly as something very unique, very niche, and very short lived. I want to be clear that Firefly stands in my mind as the pinnacle of missed opportunities, as in, given the choice I'd save it and not the ever weirder Dollhouse. Alas, neither was to be for more than the exact amount of time necessary to get people invested. Oh, the episodes that never were.

Both of these Whedon shows really make me sad because I have watched the OTHER two to their conclusion. And, damn it. Because remember what happens to Giles as Buffy went on? Willow? SPIKE? Remember the growth? And on Angel, the line was a little squiggly, but it got us all to Fred's arc. To Wesley's. These are the moments we'll miss. Who knows where Dollhouse would have gone eventually. I assume still the apocalypse, but I also assume it would have taken longer to get there.

For an interim amusement, please go here and laugh hysterically at other commentary regarding a certain broadcaster and their handling of other beloved 'properties'. Honestly, it's like watching a belligerent drunk try and wrestle a pig.

Moving along, Whedon and Co have managed to retain their crown not only in producing shows that resist wide interest while simultaneously being awesome at best and merely unique at worst, BUT also - writing just the best villains!

I can't think of a villain that was ever made central in a Joss Whedon show that was not totally engaging. I'm sure there have been ones that weren't quite as terrific, but each one I can some up with is memorable (obviously) and delicious to watch. Most recently, Boyd, who is crazy and driven by a choice that is less crazy by far. Alpha - the flip side of Echo's coin who Alan Tudyk made both scary and funny. Angel, Spike, Drusilla, The Mayor. Oh, The Mayor! He was just so nuts and yet so much the doting Dad. Plus I think there was a witch in there somewhere and some flaying which left an impression.

Whedon's stuff doesn't always land on two feet, or four feet, but man do they make cool leaps. Here's a not-insane idea, Joss: try and make your next idea something that can be put together more cheaply. You can do plenty with little money. And get Enver Gjokaj. That dude is the SHARK FROM JAWS.

Up In the Air

This is a late post, both because I haven't posted since August and because this film came out on Christmas Day. But what do I care, I just want to write a review. Maybe one day I'll write one on time, but dreams are so fleeting.

Up In the Air is a film for the times. The way I felt Fight Club was a film for the turn of the millennium, this is a film for now. Countless news stories fly around like loose sheets of paper in a cold draft - they all have figures about unemployment rates, percentages of cuts to budgets and payrolls, about the struggle of the everyman and woman just to make end's meet - but they are abstractions of the situation. Up In the Air tells the story on the ground. It's a tough story to watch.

While others are grounded by the obligations of their lives, Ryan lives everywhere, owing no loyalty to anyone save his frequent flyer program. He likes it that way, and even if we do not share the desire to live like him, we can believe as we look on that he is happy. Mostly.

George Clooney plays Ryan, who is hired to fire those people whose superiors don't have the guts to do so themselves, and he doesn't take the job lightly. He may enjoy the lifestyle of detachment this job affords him, but he doesn't enjoy dismissing people from their work - instead he focuses on genuinely pushing these people towards the opportunities now open to them in the light of unemployment. An easier sell coming from a man who believes in the unencumbered life. During seminars held in tiny hotel conference rooms all over America, Ryan asks that his audience imagine the components of their lives - things AND people - stuffed into a backpack that they must tote around; the straps, he points out, weigh heavily.

Clooney plays a potentially unlikable character very sympathetically, and he is supported and complimented by Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick. Farmiga's Alex does a lot to draw Ryan back to ground level, and Kendrick arrives as Natalie - the new blood at work who pitches firings over webcam to save airfare. Ryan protests so Natalie has to go on the road with him to see what the job is really like.

Not surprisingly, it's bleak. Especially now. It's a testament to the performances in this film that you can feel the contrast between the desperation of the world versus the connections, even momentary or midguided ones, as bright candles grouped in a large, cold room. Hope is in short supply, and though we know this having lived through the world ourselves lately, this film really puts you in front of the locomotive. Still when characters are looking at one another in the eye, they are sharing something real, very nearly holding each other for warmth, and we can feel it.

Ryan, to me, becomes more admirable as the film develops - he demonstrates the desire to be there for others even though he is doing his best to fly safely above all human drama. A credit to the screenplay is that the reasons for Ryan being this way are only (maybe) hinted at - we are left to assume he was either hurt or just was always this way - either explanation would be fine. Ryan is no less caring for his past, whatever it is, and he takes risks that we want him to take and we go with him in feeling vulnerable.

This is Jason Reitman's third film, and he has solidified himself as one of the best directors working today (before this he helmed Thank You for Smoking and Juno). This is stark, engaging filmmaking that will demand repeat viewings in the future, perhaps after this climate shifts. For now, it is too real - a credit to everyone involved.