Buffy: Chosen (7.22)

Back in the early years of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the very first thing you heard at the top of every show was that gloomy proclamation: "In every generation, there is a chosen one. She alone will stand against the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the slayer". Of all those words, spoken first by that velvety, nondescript narrator and then with Anthony Stewart Head's silky British tones, what stood out was the use of 'alone'. Buffy had her strong support group of friends, acquaintances and allies but, after all the blood and the pain, she still stood alone. Even when similar women with her sacred duty appeared, they were quickly marked by their respective differences. Buffy Summers was surrounded by others, but she was still alone when it really mattered.

Buffy: End of Days (7.21)

Caleb's arrival seemed like the first indication of the writers suddenly realizing that the First wasn't hugely effective as a big bad. Here, we once again see examples of the show struggling to give the First much definition as a villain, other than vague shading that doesn't really go anywhere. While the major antagonists of every other season had specific reasons for not instantly putting their plan into action (the hunt for the Key, the various trials before Ascension, etc.), it seems more than ever that the First and Caleb are merely hanging around trading barbs. It's something that hit me when Giles spoke about "running out of time", yet with there being little indication of what exactly is coming around the corner. The problem with this season's apocalypse is that, after everything, it's very much been a bunch of people talking about how bad everything is, without much depiction of it on-screen.

Buffy: Touched (7.20)

I'm sure this episode was insufferable for those in the audience who dislike Buffy and Spike. Thinking about it, this whole storyline seems very pro-Spuffy. They're pretty much the only characters not wrapped up in the collective batshit buffoonery slowly infecting the Summers home, and with that comes a lot of, gasp, rational thinking. For me? I actually adore these two, even if it sometimes feels wrong that they're so isolated in their character consistency. Touched has a couple of wonderful scenes for the two of them, the show finally unearthing their relationship and laying all the cards on the table. It's moving, poignant and actually adult.

Buffy: Empty Places (7.19)

I remember at the time believing the last ten minutes of Empty Places ranks down there among the very worst things Buffy ever did. But... I don't know, I still have numerous problems with it, but I think I understand what they were trying to do. I keep reiterating it, but this whole season has been about Buffy's journey to becoming a trusted, successful leader -- and the idea of discomfort and mutiny within the ranks would naturally fit into that. And I don't think it's wrong to state that Buffy's plan to head back into the vineyard feels a little misjudged. So in principal, I get what they were going for, and I somewhat understand the motivations of the ensemble. But, damn, those pesky issues can't be ignored.

Buffy: Dirty Girls (7.18)

Dirty Girls represents a necessary shot in the arm, especially in light of a run of episodes that didn't seem to know how to work around the First's issues as an antagonist. Caleb, as overblown as he is, is a more tangible threat -- somebody with personality and physical force, who could provide the upcoming finale with at least one villain that can be dispatched on screen. He's also a character that fits strongly into this season's major themes, if lacking any real subtlety. Caleb represents male patriarchy, a caricature of an extreme misogynist who makes Warren look like Gloria Steinem in comparison, the complete antithesis of Buffy's feminine strength and an important antagonist for the last run of episodes.

Buffy: Lies My Parents Told Me (7.17)

I touched on it in my review for Get It Done, but Buffy's isolation is continuing to be the driving force this season. One of the most important moments here is Buffy's insistence that, in hindsight, she should have sacrificed Dawn in order to save the world back in The Gift. And that, with the final battle right around the corner, she is prepared to sacrifice the lives of her loved ones for the greater good. It's by far the most successful element of this season -- Buffy becoming the lone, emotionless warrior that she was always fearful of turning into, and her determination to ignore personal problems in a time of crisis. Just like I said two weeks ago, it's not particularly fun to see Buffy wind up this way, but it's an interesting direction to take her in... because it's Buffy becoming the person she assumes she has to be: "It's war, so I'll be the general." She's harsh and frequently creating dissent, but she feels as if she shouldn't care. She's the leader, and those feelings are what leaders should experience... right?

Buffy: Storyteller (7.16)

There's always been a frustrating dichotomy when it comes to Andrew, since both of his stretches on Buffy featured wildly different character traits. Season six depicted him as this creepy sociopath, with the rape fantasies and outward resentment for anybody leading a successful life. He also had none of the development that Jonathan and Warren had, the former because of his longer tenure on the show, and the latter because of his importance to the stories that rounded off the year. In season seven, Andrew is comic relief -- a goofy, sorta-gay nerd given most of the funny lines. For whatever reason, probably time, there's been little attempt to mesh these two extremes together, creating a character who is obviously funny, but who can't be removed from the rapist loser of season six.

Buffy: Get It Done (7.15)

One of the developing themes this season involves the role of a leader, and how much of your conscience you need to sacrifice in order to fulfill that role. We've seen Buffy play the protective mother figure, as well as the shrill military sergeant. Here, she begins to employ some of her more polarizing characteristics as she yells at her friends and prepares for a war. It immediately creates a sense of conflict within the group, tying in her own necessary arrogance explored back in Conversations with Dead People, and only seems to further a sense of resentment fostering inside the Summers home. It's not the most inspired idea (yelling at people until they do what you want never works out), but you can understand why Buffy would pursue that, especially in a time of desperation. She's trying to figure out how she'll fight this fight, and sometimes that comes at the expense of emotional ties to others. It's not exactly entertaining for the viewer, but it's an important story to tell.

Buffy: First Date (7.14)

Something that is making this current run of episodes so choppy is the fact that they all want to do far too many things at once. Even more so than last week, First Date features a vast number of subplots and continuing story arcs -- I counted at least four that were given a notable amount of weight here. Because of that, the show has stumbled into that formula where you can't really appreciate entire episodes anymore. There are obviously certain stories that continue to work well and tap into that trademark Buffy awesomeness, but lately it's become just as likely to find other stories within the same episodes that aren't good at all.

Buffy: The Killer in Me (7.13)

It's always unfortunate when a series caves into fan pressure, writing in plot developments to service the audience rather than push a story that feels at all organic. Then again, it's also annoying when series seem to go out of their way to not satisfy their audience, arrogantly lecturing viewers on how they shouldn't automatically get what they want. Willow really suffered as a character in season seven because her one major story arc felt like perpetual fan service, events occurring to quiet down a vocally hostile minority within Buffy fandom rather than portray something that made sense from a character perspective.

Buffy: Potential (7.12)

This is a minor improvement on the last two weeks, but Potential still winds up being something of a chore to get through. There's a lot of running, a lot of whining, all building to one ultimately moving final scene. Dawn's place in the narrative of season seven was something that needed to be explored, especially since she was initially positioned as a key player way back in Lessons. But, in an indication that the wheels are flying off in the writers room, all the intriguing development she was getting just a couple of months back has been rapidly pulled back, Dawn becoming just another member of the Buffy ensemble given nothing but filler dialogue most of the time (see: Xander, Anya, Willow).

Buffy: Showtime (7.11)

Rewatching a series again gives you a unique perspective far removed from the one you held when the show originally aired. You have the benefit of hindsight, as well as the ability to form opinions that aren't necessarily clouded by rapid fandom experiencing it at the exact same time, week by week. Maturity also plays a more personal role for me, since I had barely hit my teens when I first watched this way back in 2002. I bring all this up because the potential slayers are almost universally maligned, and I use the word 'almost' purely out of respect for the, what, two or three people out there who actually dug them. But before I watched season seven again, I wondered if fandom had created that opinion for me when I was just an impressionable kid -- a sort of pack mentality that we all ran with? Were the potentials really that terrible?

Buffy: Bring on the Night (7.10)

Bring on the Night succumbs almost immediately to the problems I mentioned last episode, and only gets worse at it goes along. Season seven showcases the perils of reaching for a 'big finish', in that setting up an enormous final battle results in things getting mighty crowded. This episode sees the return of Giles, as well as the shitstorm of suck that are the potentials -- a strange decision that forces most of the actual regular cast to take a back-seat to bad accents, contrived whining and horrible plot twists. Like Never Leave Me, the hour is entirely watchable, but the badness here far outweighs any of its rewarding qualities.

Buffy: Never Leave Me (7.9)

There are numerous complaints leveled at Buffy's seventh season, but one of them that isn't hugely important but probably impacts my annoyance with the latter half of the year is that episodes really started to blur together around this point. Ordinarily, this was something the show never had a problem with. Even in the deeper story arc-driven episodes in seasons three or five, each individual hour is memorable for one reason or another, the writers able to find self-contained elements within the serialized format -- making them easier to watch and better to stick in your memory. Around this time, that concept sort of faded away, resulting in a run of episodes that struggle to have much of an individual identity. Never Leave Me is fine, but it's the first of that type that struggle to be anything more, where the season's pursuit of thematic intensity starts spiraling out of control -- characters pondering over how bad everything is without the show actually depicting it very well on-screen.

Buffy: Sleeper (7.8)

Sleeper plays like an old-fashioned mystery novel, Buffy in detective mode as she prowls the city streets determined to find evidence that Spike is actually killing again. With Spike himself prowling for victims of his own, a fun cat-and-mouse game ensues, only made awkward by Spike's seemingly truthful insistence that he has no recollection of blood-sucking murder. This is another episode maintaining that sense of intense foreboding highlighted in Conversations with Dead People, the Scoobies all working out that something that seems to know them on an intimate level is messing with their heads. It's the end of the series, and the big bad is ready to turn the screws...

Buffy: Conversations with Dead People (7.7)

There's something about evil striking you when you're alone that is naturally pretty terrifying. Dawn's vignette in Conversations with Dead People is the most overtly horrible, but both Willow and Andrew fall prey to a more insidious evil, the type that burrows into your head and tries to rattle you on a purely emotional level. Most of the characters here are targeted in ways that could potentially do the most damage to their separate sensibilities. Dawn is all blood and horror and carnage, becoming a real slasher movie victim as she's terrorized by the great beyond. Willow is lured in by niceties and the promise of emotional connection. Andrew has his vulnerability zeroed in on, a big bad using his weird infatuation with Warren as an instigator for brutal murder. This is a very special episode, confirmed by that gorgeous opening sequence with Angie Hart singing and the title and time-stamp appearing on-screen, and another season seven success.

Buffy: Him (7.6)

I have a real fondness for this episode. It's really the final Buffy episode to be entirely standalone in nature, every additional hour this season at least semi-revolving around major story arcs. It's also the last episode to really utilize the re-opened Sunnydale High, a weird decision considering the major push it's had since season seven began. There's also a gorgeous musicality to Him, strengthening the whole 'high school genre' angle -- great pop songs as Dawn dithers over her new crush, a cute ballad as Dawn hunts for Buffy's old cheerleading outfit (aww, Witch), as well as that moving Coldplay song as she sees Buffy and RJ getting intimate. Now, you kind of need to think Coldplay are lame, but that entire scene and the music playing over it just clicked together in this teenage, melodramatic burst of feeling. Aww.

Buffy: Selfless (7.5)

What is identity? That's the principal question at the heart of Selfless, another under-appreciated Buffy masterpiece and one of the most dynamic character studies I've ever seen on television. By the end of the episode, it's clear that no matter how long Anya has lived, no matter how much she has seen, and no matter how many varying emotions she has experienced, Anya isn't at all a person. She's drifted from one incarnation to the other over the centuries, mainly dictated by the men around her. The impressive title of this episode feeds directly into that, not only alluding to the human being she long ago was, but also the complete lack of self that she has today. In the end, however, there's a glimmer of hope -- Anya acknowledging all of the pain she has inflicted on others, and how much she strives to be someone better.

Buffy: Help (7.4)

One of my favorite Buffy scenes is actually one without dialogue or even a whole lot of movement. It occurs mid-way through this episode, with Buffy, Willow, Xander and Dawn sitting around the dining-room table investigating pre-cog death girl Cassie and trying to unravel the mystery surrounding her. It's a brief moment, but feels so powerful. Here's a group of characters that we've been watching for so long now, all of whom are friendly once again and determined to solve a supernatural case. A lot of this episode feels pretty intimate, notably in that scene as well as the brief shots of Dawn, Cassie and Mike all hanging out and laughing together. There's so much happiness and teamwork here, which make Cassie's ultimate demise so much more affecting. I love Help, and it's that sense of together-ness that really struck me, not only as a viewer but as a long-term fan of the series.

Buffy: Same Time, Same Place (7.3)

Season seven, while undoubtedly promoting new arcs and fresh incarnations of our favorite characters, is appropriately still sifting through the baggage of last year. Buffy's assault played a major part in last week's episode, and here we see Willow returning to Sunnydale after her murderous rampage last season. Same Time, Same Place is all about fear, and the various forms it arrives in. Willow is terrified of being isolated by her friends, as well as scared that she'll once again return to the crazed, grieving state she was in following Tara's death. Meanwhile, Buffy, Xander and Dawn all experience their own varying emotions when it comes to forgiveness, and whether Willow can ever truly be absolved for what she's done, and whether she's even still possessing the same anger she exhibited the last time they were all together.