Dollhouse — Unaired Pilot and "Epitaph One"

I'll be honest: I picked up the Blu-Ray for the first season of Dollhouse as much if not more for the exclusive episodes as it did the season proper. While the back half of the season certainly grabbed my interest and mostly held it through the end, I found myself far more taken with the idea of watching both the original pilot, dumped when the networks called it "too dark and confusing" in favor of that tepid and largely pointless iteration that uneventfully debuted the show, as well as the fabled 13th episode, the post-apocalyptic "Epitaph One." When I got home to my PS3 I didn't even watch any of the aired episodes before diving into these bonus treats, and my thoughts on them are as follows:

[Note: This review avoids spoilers for the two episodes under discussion, but it assumes that you've seen the season's aired episodes]

Unaired Pilot -- "Echo"

The studio notes for this episode cited it as too confusing to appeal to a broad audience, the first sign that FOX would end up meddling with this show just as they had with Firefly before it. It (perhaps justifiably) put people on the defensive months before the show ever came out, and got the ball rolling on all the cancellation talk as well.

For all my love of artistic freedom, though, and especially for someone I adore as much as Joss Whedon, I'd have told him to re-write it as well. Where the studio feared that its tone would turn off the Idol crowd or something, I would have suggested that he simply cut the thing down a tad. For you see, "Echo" is a two-hour pilot extravaganza crammed into your average one-hour time slot. Even with the 5-10 extra minutes offered by that Remote-Free TV business, it simply contains too much plot, too many character moments and far, far too many answered questions.

For example, in this version of the pilot, we see Saunders' hatred of Topher, the Feds knowing too much about the Dollhouse to dismiss it, Boyd saying too much about the Dollhouse's evil before Whedon has fully established what a disgusting organization it is and, worst of all, Echo meeting Ballard. These scenes pepper the first five or six episodes of the season, and condensing them into one hour of TV gives us too much information about what should be a shadowy organization.

Nevertheless, it's a massive improvement over the version we got. "Ghost" didn't even feel like a Whedon-penned episode: its exposition was obvious to the point of cringe-inducing, this interesting world was ill-defined and, most surprising of all, it lacked humor. "Echo," as a strange contrast, contains too much of these elements. It's nice and clever, but it gives us too man details, and a running gag concerning Topher's use of the phrase "man-friend" simply grates (it actually builds to a nice dark one-liner from Boyd, then Topher uses the phrase once more later). Other lines contain real, working humor though, and for all the flaws of the Echo/Ballard interaction, it clearly set up Caroline's story far earlier, something that would have silenced a number of critics who cited the show as misogynistic for not immediately establishing a strong female lead. Rather than a revelation of Whedon's original, assured vision, "Echo" is more the polar opposite of the flaws of "Ghost" -- somewhere between the two lies the perfect pilot, but I'd likely place it on that line far closer to this.

Epitaph One

Now this is what I'm talking about. Joss Whedon is nothing if not bold: his four shows each contain wildly different tones, styles, approaches to humor, and themes, yet they all feature certain flourishes that make them immediately recognizable as his. His best work (as well as the best work of his finest writers) stands in open defiance of what might normally pass on TV, or that which takes him far out of his comfort zone (though the jury's still out on this show, which is one giant removal). I'm of course speaking of episodes such as "The Body," "Hush," "Objects in Space," and "Not Fade Away."

"Epitaph One" belongs on this list. Though neither written nor directed by Whedon, you can feel his guiding hand behind the script more than anywhere in the season's aired episodes, including one of the two that he wrote. It, more than "Man on the Street," "Spy in the House of Love" or either of the two parts of the finale, demonstrates that the show, despite its rocky opening and a continued set of unanswered, important questions (such as "What's the point of this anyway?"), indeed has a direction, and Whedon is a steady hand at the helm.

Set in 2019, ten years after Echo started exhibiting problems with her programming, "Epitaph One" shows us a world in chaos. A small band of filthy survivors moves through the streets of L.A., carrying with them a small child and her wiped father. At some point between now and the first season timeline, the Rossum Corporation (the owners of the Dollhouse) sold or allowed their technology to fall into other hands, and China discovered a way to imprint massive sections of the world populace in a manner similar to the cell call in "Gray Hour."

This group heads for the Dollhouse to find the imprinting chair to see if they can piece together what went wrong. They don't know what the construct really is, and when they discover that the institution that brought about the apocalypse was originally nothing more than a glorified whorehouse they don't know whether to laugh or find something to shoot.

They discover two things, though, that are far more important that the Dollhouse's original design. One is Whiskey, now scar-less and wiped, and the other a set of memories waiting to be uploaded into an Active. Through these memories we are given brief glimpses into the events that link the present with this horrible future, as well as character moments and even some relationship news. My favorite moments involved De Witt and Topher finally accepting the evil of their profession and their role in this cataclysm.

Giving us this information in the form of memories is a masterstroke, because memory is subjective. Some, perhaps all, of the scenes Whedon shows us could be slightly different if not outright false. We know that he's the king of continuity jokes, with callbacks and cross-references abounding in the Buffyverse, but this presentation ups the stakes: now the fans will look not only for these scenes to unfold but check up to see if anything differs.

"Epitaph One" is many things: thrilling, horrific, cerebral, gripping and darkly witty. Most of all, though, it is fearless. Written by his Doctor Horrible cohorts Maurissa Tancharoen and brother Jed Whedon, it's based on a pitch by Joss, one that would bring the high concept of the show to the fore while slashing the budget down to peanuts. Its predominantly hand-held direction (courtesy of David Solomon) lacks the spastic nature of shaky cam footage, and instead successfully creates a feeling of tension and realism without making us reach for the barf bags. Only someone with a firm grasp of a show's direction -- and let's not forget, Whedon also sowed hints for more than one future season in Buffy episodes "Graduation Day" and "Restless" -- would be so bold as to give away so much detail for a show's future. In anyone else's hands, something like "Epitaph One" would cause me worry. With Whedon holding the reins, however, it is a promise to the fans who stuck with this series out of faith in him that Dollhouse is going places, and I for one can't wait until September.

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

Let's go back to fall of 2007 for a moment: the new Golden Age of Television is about to end. Why? Because the WGA is set to go on strike in November. When it hit, the writer's strike effectively ruined the 2007/08 T.V. schedule, all because writers had the temerity to ask fair recompense from companies that made billions off of them without having to make a damn thing other than phone calls to advertisers. Actors and directors showed solidarity with the writers, and showrunners even halted production of pre-written episodes to join them on the picket lines. While all this happened, Joss Whedon, whose initial deal for Dollhouse was naturally postponed, needed something to sink his creative teeth into now that he finally decided to get back to writing. So what did he do? Oh, not much, other than try to change the entire model of television.


Now, let's get something straight: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is not the first legitimate web series; hell, it's not even the first legitimate web series made by one of its participants. Felicia Day's ongoing series The Guild has been a notable hit for its two seasons, and Day even inked a groundbreaking deal with Microsoft that actually earned her a profit for her work. Whedon was clearly taken by The Guild, so he brought Day, who had a minor role as one of two Potentials that were actually fun in the final season of Buffy, on-board just as soon as he figured out what he wanted to make.

As you might ascertain from the title, Joss, with the help of Maurissa Tancharoen and his brothers Zack and Jed, wrote a musical. One's mind naturally turns to the great and timeless Buffy episode "Once More, With Feeling," and those instincts would be fairly accurate: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is, for all of its too-brief 43 minutes, a hysterical, acerbic, subversive and, in true Whedon fashion, brutally tragic ride that was easily the best thing to come out of the writer's strike.

And who better to play the titular Dr. Horrible, blogger-cum-supervillain wannabe, than Neil Patrick Harris who, in his words, helped invent the blog with his Doogie Howser character? Harris is wonderful as the cynical, ever-bemused Horrible; his recent roles, from his perverted self-parody in the Harold & Kumar films to his essentially cleaned-up-for-primetime Harold & Kumar part for the excellent sitcom How I Met Your Mother, generally see him as a cocksure lothario who's either desperate for a friend or a borderline psycho. But Whedon loves to challenge people, so Horrible is lovesick, awkward and insecure; he seeks to enter the Evil League of Evil, but because he wants to better mankind who to him don't understand how their ignorance hurts them.

In between his schemings, he pines for Penny (Day), the bookish activist who he sees at the laundromat three times a week. Horrible spends as much time trying to muster up the courage to ask her out as he does pleasing the nefarious Bad Horse, leader of the ELE, into gaining acceptance. He has a chance when she surprises him on the street and asks him to sign a petition to raise money for a homeless shelter, but he's busy stealing "wonderflonium" to power his new freeze ray. Things only get worse for our villain when the heroic Captain Hammer swoops in and foils Horrible's plans and, even worse, Penny falls for his arch-nemesis.

And that's just the first act! The rest is even funnier and more heartbreaking. The songs are all humorous, but they work outside of novelty; these are genuine show tunes, as ready-made to be sung by fans as anything you'd expect to hear on Broadway. There is also Whedonesque humor a-plenty, with a sizable majority of the lines being instant quotables. And the climax ends in the way you might expect from Joss, but he plays it perfectly. The phrase "I didn't know whether to laugh or cry" is so overused that it's meaningless these days, but the ending of Dr. Horrible may be the only time where I found that statement completely true. It's a transcendent moment that'll leave you wondering if Joss snuck in the tragedy under the laughs or vice versa.

But that's all just stuff on the surface, waiting to be enjoyed by anyone, Whedonite or neophyte. No, it's when you really start to dig into Dr. Horrible that you see its true genius. Joss' shows are all about subverting expectations, whether it be the hot blonde horror victim suddenly rising up and attacking those who would do her harm or a western in space. Horrible wants to be a feared supervillain, yet his motivations have that oddly benevolent bent to them, like a robot programmed to protect humanity that ends up attacking people to save them from themselves. In his normal life he is clearly shown to be a gentle, caring individual whose cynicism and misanthropy is born more of loneliness than insanity.

Captain Hammer, on the other hand, is narcissistic and churlish; the only reason he does not beat Dr. Horrible senseless in the first act is that an attractive woman clearly exhibits a crush on him, which he focuses all of his attention on exploiting. When he gives a speech in the third act about how "we're all heroes," it only displays his delusion and selfishness. There's also a delicious bit in his reaction to experiencing pain for the first time. That last part is a possible reference to the novelization of Serenity, in which, Fillion says (no, I didn't read it), author Keith DeCandido portrayed The Operative as a man so good at fighting that he never learned how to take a punch. I heard this little nugget on the Serenity cast commentary.

OK, that's probably not a solid link and the only thing I did was prove how sad I am. But this is so full of Whedon callbacks that anything's possible. He's not only subverting heroes and villains, he's subverting his own previous subversion of heroes and villains. And NPH isn't the only person he plays against type; Day plays a gaming shut-in on The Guild and in real life describes herself as a "misanthrope," yet Penny is optimistic and open, and she's doing her best to help other people. Fillion, naturally, thoroughly deconstructs Malcolm Reynolds by using Hammer as the perfect mirror image: where Reynolds was gruff but fiercely loyal and a capable leader, Hammer is vainglorious and irresponsible – he seems to be a hero solely for the fame and the women. He even makes a passing reference (in song, of course), that Penny might become the first woman he's ever had sex with twice.

If this perfectly constructed miniseries doesn't give you enough Whedon to fill you up – which is understandable considering that, combined, Dr. Horrible is barely as long as a single episode of one of his shows – then you should pay the paltry fee for the DVD, which boasts the magnificent Commentary! The Musical. Though it almost never references the actual series, Commentary! is a creation every bit as masterful as Dr. Horrible, even if they songs don't invite as much singing along. A tune about the writer's strike betrays Joss' bitterness over the whole thing and its outcome, while Maurisa's "Nobody's Asian" has a sting of truth behind her lines about how roles for Asians in Hollywood are few and far between. But don't let this convince you that the commentary is dour and cynical; it's brimming with in-jokes (including something about Fillion's delicious seven-bean dip) and tongue-in-cheek humor, but that level of darkness just makes it better.

As great as Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is on a surface and subtextual level, it's possibly even more exciting when you consider what it could mean for web shows. Shortly after the first act hit the web, the servers of drhorrible.com crashed for days and the initial DVD-R offered exclusively through Amazon was the #3 highest-selling DVD shortly after release and even at the time of this writing remains in the top 50.

While its financial success certainly doesn't prove that the future is here when it comes to independent production: Whedon himself recently mentioned that we still need studios for more epic works. But if an established auteur like Whedon can make something this brilliant with no budget and total creative freedom, who's to say that the notion of at least small-scale productions isn't possible within the next 10-15 years? Even if it isn't, even if we never get the rumored sequel or some other Web project from Joss, Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is a near-perfect little slice of heaven whose deceptively simple structure entertains with every viewing.