In the eight episode of the third season of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, fuck you, Joss Whedon. Just fuck you. Intrigued? Then it’s time for Mark to watch Buffy.
Dear Joss Whedon.
I am so fucking upset right now.
I am irrationally attached to your characters. There. I said it. I’ve reached a point where even if I don’t like everything a work of fiction does, I believe the characters enough to the point where I almost react to them as if they are real people. Do you know this feeling? It’s where a show or a book can fuck up and do some ridiculous plot you hate and you don’t care about but you still watch or read along because their faces and I just want to hold them all so tightly.
Joss, I don’t even think you wrote this episode. There are two names attached to the writer and director credits for “Lovers Walk,” and neither of them is yours. But you know what? I see your clever ruse. This is your idea. It was your idea to bring Spike back, to make me happy that he was back, and then proceed to have him so ceremoniously ruin the lives of every goddamn person ever just so he could LEAVE AT THE END OF THE EPISODE WITH THE JOY OF AN EPIPHANY. No, seriously, who else would think to compose a final shot that would show us how alone Buffy, Angel, Cordy, Xander, Willow, and Oz all are at the same time, and then cut to Spike driving out of Sunnydale, singing “My Way,” and expect that it would tear people apart?
That’s only you, Joss Whedon. Only you could punch me in the face for half an hour and then, when I’m standing up after a momentary respite, you punch me in the stomach and then rip my heart out. And then you call this “entertainment.”
I’ve been threatening it for a while, and it’s high time I brought it into existence: I am finally writing you a sternly-worded letter.
I hate that you made these characters. I hate that you made them beautifully awkward representations of people most of us are familiar with from our high school days. Hell, I see myself in Willow and Buffy. You did this on purpose. You are either a demon yourself, or you made a pact with one. You knew this would happen. You knew this would hurt me. And you did it anyway.
Is this “good writing”? Who cares when you’ve shattered my heart beyond repair? Is this a brilliant script that reflects on how love can irrationally affect people you love and hate? It might be, but I can’t tell because I can’t see through the tears.
You made Oz give Willow a witch PEZ.
You made Xander notice that Cordy made him locker-worthy.
You made Angel give Buffy good advice from a loving place.
You made Spike genuinely tell Willow and Joyce all his problems with Drusilla.
You made Spike ask for “those little marshmallows.”
You did all of this on purpose. And maybe you didn’t even write it; perhaps the bulk of this was done by Dan Vebber. But you allowed it to happen. You allowed Cordelia, after having her heart broken, FALL THROUGH THE STAIRS AT THE FACTORY AND IMPALE HERSELF ON REBAR. You then tricked me into believing she was dead twice by showing her pass out and then having Willow and Buffy walk by a funeral. WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?! WHO TAKES CASUAL WALKS NEXT TO A FUNERAL? YOU ARE FUCKING EVIL. YOU ARE SO GODDAMN EVIL.
Then you made the episode title “Lovers Walk.” Not “Lover’s.” You are making a statement. You spoiled the episode before it began and I didn’t even know it. You were teasing me with trauma before a single frame flicked across my screen. Why? Why must you do this?
But nothing broke me more than you allowing me to see all of the Scoobies and Angel heartbroken and alone. What are you trying to do to me? Don’t you know how this feels? DID YOU HAVE AN UNHAPPY CHILDHOOD? Whatever could make you treat me so terribly?
I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have irrationally assigned all of this episode to myself in a deeply personal way. This is how badly you’ve broken me. So here’s your stern letter, Joss Whedon, and a list of demands:
- You will stop breaking my heart.
- You will stop destroying Cordelia.
- You will stop giving me all these feelings from watching a television show.
- You will stop killing characters off.
- You will stop making me think you’ve killed a character off.
- Nothing bad will ever happen on your show ever again.
- So there are four and a half more seasons full of puppies and rollercoasters, right?
If you do not meet my demands… Wait, who are we kidding? You don’t give a fuck what I think. You’re going to do what you want so that you can obtain magic powers from my tears. Well, I’m on to you, Joss Whedon. You can expect another angry letter from me if you taunt me like this again.
Death Count: 5 – The shopkeeper, three vampires, and my own heart. That counts fuck you. Total: 30.