Reviewing - Joss Whedon's Firefly
Like the crew it follows, Firefly was an underdog of a show every step of the way. Developing a cult following even after its cancellation, the fandom's support led to a feature film. While you might call that a success, Serenity barely made back its production budget, and the story of nine drifters through space hasn't resurfaced apart from a few tie-in novels and similar stuff. I know this show is near and dear to a lot of people, but now that I've watched both the show and its film more than once each, I have to confess that this is just not the kind of sci-fi I'm looking for.
I reviewed the film before the show, but ordered the reviews below by release date.
Firefly (***)
Before I get to my problems with this show, I do want to highlight the stuff that I think it nails. First, the cast is spectacular. Alan Tudyk is hysterical as Wash, and his relationship with his kick-butt wife Zoe is so much fun because of the huge divide in their personalities. Where he cracks jokes right on the nose, she prefers tight-lipped dry humour. He’s got no combat experience, and she could kill you with any object in the room. They’re each fun on their own, but they make a wonderful combo together too. Then there’s Nathan Fillion, who’s charismatic enough to have played the lead character in Firefly, Castle (8 seasons), and The Rookie (3 seasons and counting). As Captain Mal, he’s snarky, commanding, and every bit the underdog that audiences love to root for. Then there’s Shepherd, Inara, and Jayne – the last of which I’ll talk about later. River and Simon are pivotal characters in this series because they’re the ones keeping the rest of the crew in mortal jeopardy. Simon’s not too exciting on his own, but River’s got enough crazy for the both of them. All in all, the cast is solid, and their relationships with each other are constantly fresh and exciting.
I also love the space western vibe that Firefly gives off. There are definitely times that I think it leans too heavily into the western genre – one look at the hats on minor characters will probably prove my point – but the rough-and-dusty aesthetic mixed with the metallic shine of sci-fi is a great combo that you can catch more of in The Mandalorian. There’s one episode though where an entire building is wrapped in tinfoil, and it was just plain ugly. Looking worn and beat-up is one thing, but that design was just a travesty.
This show is only fourteen episodes long, but there’s a lot of great moments in that limited span of time. “Out of Gas” is my favourite episode of the bunch, because we see Mal pushed to his limit. It honestly could’ve served as a pilot, because it also shows us how everyone ended up on his ship and what kind of a man Mal is. That one’s a keeper. “Trash” is also a lot of fun in the way it plays a game of who’s-tricking-who with the crew and an old enemy. If I had to pick one more favourite, it would probably be “Shindig” because of how entertaining it is to see our ragtag team doll themselves up for a ball.
For all that said, I probably won’t be revisiting this show again, nor will I be passing it on to my kids. I wrote in my review of ‘Serenity’ that the emphasis on Reavers as psycho rapist cannibals just leans too heavily into the horror genre. The sci-fi I love is adventurous and fun, and throwing an evil as despicable as what we see here into that mix is too much for me. True, Reavers don’t actually play a big role in the series itself. But there is a heavy dose of sexuality – and it’s done in a way I can’t really get on board with. For starters, Inara is a Companion, which is essentially a high-class prostitute who picks her clients instead of the other way around. The show as a whole blends Western and Eastern culture a fair bit as part of its initial premise, which may explain the inception of this idea. Hundreds of years ago in Japan, there were apparently women known as oiran who served a similar role in high society. The idea’s become synonymous with the term ‘geisha’, although the two are different upon further inspection. Wherever it came from, the writers of this show seem to be trying to paint Inara’s sex work as a liberal, open-minded – even noble - profession. We get numerous discussions on the nature of her work, and Inara never really expresses regret or second thoughts about it. If anything, she’s very proud of her position.
At the same time, the writers don’t let Inara’s occupation become idyllic. Inara is frequently abused by her clients, verbally harassed by Mal, and morally condemned by a variety of characters throughout the show. On one hand, some might praise the series for showing a balanced perspective. On the other, an inherent flaw in Inara’s work becomes apparent – she can’t escape the objectification of her womanhood that it entails. There are people outside of organized crime who endorse sex work as a legitimate means of income. But even if you were excluding people of faith like myself, I’d say the vast majority view the business as morally bankrupt. I don’t have to play the Christian card to make that argument – most people just get it. So I guess that’s why trying to elevate Inara to a position of stature through this business doesn’t fly for me. First of all, it’s an unpleasant reminder of the gross inequality between man and woman in our society, particularly in the lower class. Obviously we need to be reminded of this from time to time in order to ignite change, but escapist television isn’t the place where I’d put it. Secondly, it suggests (however briefly) that there is an ideal scenario where people selling their bodies for sex could be a pretty cool thing – and I fundamentally disagree with that. We even see in this show how often sex is used maliciously – and the vast majority of sex-related violence or abuse in this show is targeted at women. When Mal is conned by a sexually provocative woman, he gets poked fun at. But in the episode with the tinfoil building when a prostitute who betrays her brothel is turned upon by the people she turned to, she’s publicly humiliated to an extent so severe they don’t even speak of what’s about to happen. The writers had no problem repeatedly putting women in helpless and detestable positions. And I’m not okay with that.
On that note, let’s move on to Jayne. Jayne is the ‘heavy’ of the group – the muscly one who likes to crack skulls. He’s also a sexual predator, but they try and play that off for laughs. That doesn’t work for me. Joey from Friends is similarly a love-lover for sure, but what keeps him redeemable is that he’s always in consensual non-prostitute relationships. Jayne’s open lust for other characters doesn’t make him unique. It’s the way he views sex as something he just needs to bargain for – at point asking Mal if he can ‘know’ (in the biblical sense) a female newcomer to the ship. He asks MAL. Not the girl herself. To Jayne, all that needs to be done is a transaction between himself and the man who lays claim to the woman. He does the same thing at the brothel, wanting nothing more than to pay some money and get what he wants. Not only that, but he consistently betrays the members of our crew for money. What is there redeemable about Jayne?
The movie turns the dial down on these aspects of the show that I take issue with. Jayne isn’t as sex-crazed, and Inara’s business might not even be apparent to someone who hadn’t watched the original show. But the series itself really frequents both of these topics, and that’s not the kind of television that I’m interested in. Again, I know that this show has a cult following, and the ragtag crew of misfits it highlights is reason enough to make that following justifiable. Even so, I can’t be one of those fans because I can’t get on board with the treatment of women in this show. This show has great moments, but there’s too much wrong with it for me to bring it into my future.
Serenity (***)
This was a movie that absolutely captured my imagination as a kid, although when re-watching this film more recently, I’ve realized that this is a thoroughly weird film for a kid to watch. You’ve got space zombies, psychic ninjas, and robo-wives, which I suppose any kid can get on board with. But there’s multiple mentions of prostitution, suicide, and violent cannibalistic rape as well, and that’s decidedly not kid-friendly material. It kind of makes me wonder how my dad thought this was an okay movie for me to watch.
Having never seen the show Firefly on which this movie is based when I first watched it, I was still instantly taken with the characters. A ragtag group of underdogs just barely making their way in the universe is a really fun idea akin to our old friends Han and Chewie from the Star Wars franchise. Nathan Fillion plays the charismatic rogue captain as well as anyone could have, but each member of the crew independently holds their own as an intriguing and fun character. When they’re all put together, it makes for some really terrific scenes of banter and arguing. I loved the vibe of this team of scallywags doing their best to make the most of a crummy situation in a ship that was falling apart, and the notion of a righteous scoundrel is by no means an obsolete one. Captain Mal is the kind of guy we all (or at least me) pretended to be on the playground.
For all the inspiration that this film gave me – a science fiction novel I wrote in elementary school was heavily inspired by it – I’m having a hard time now justifying the more questionable elements of the movie. There’s a line said by Jayne when he’s addressing the space-zombies/Reavers: “Eating people alive? Where does that get fun?” And I think he’s right. Movies are supposed to entertain us. There’s a healthy amount of fear and suspense that’s needed to make the film feel significant, certainly. But I think this film went a bit farther than it needed to in terms of the content it covered.
This movie has a special place in my heart, but if you’re looking for family-friendly space cowboys, stick with Han Solo.