The Joss Whedon show Dollhouse has been the subject of a heated debate among bloggers (although blogger interest hasn't translated into decent ratings). One contingent, represented by mad_typist in her recent post titled "Feminism and Dollhouse - Every Fan (and Hater) Must Read" , believes that Dollhouse is a searing critique of the exploitation of women and that people who dislike or are even repulsed by the show are missing the point. Others (and I'm among them) believe that the supposed message is lost because of failures in the writing, acting and, ultimately, in Joss's vision for the show.

 In my mind, these failures were most evident in episode 6, which as it happens is the episode that Whedon defenders point to as being one of the best in the series. There's a scene with a Dollhouse customer who's hired Echo to portray his dead wife--which includes sex with her, of course. FBI agent Ballard bursts in on the scene and while he's able to hang onto the customer, Echo's minder spirits her away from the scene. The Dollhouse customer then engages in a long monologue explaining why he has hired the Dollhouse and needles Ballard regarding his motivations for pursuing Echo. The customer accuses Ballard of having the same motivations as himself, down to having sex with Echo if he has the chance. 

One obvious problem with the scene is the monologue. If you have to stop the action to have one person explain what's going, and especially to explain a key character's motivations, you've already failed at crafting a good drama. 

 Another huge problem is that the monologue was delivered by a character we've never seen before and will likely never see again (not sure on that last point since this is where I gave up on the series). Yet we are supposed to see the Dollhouse customer as a voice of authority, a kind of Joss-surrogate who is imparting wisdom to the audience. But why should we trust or believe this stranger?

Also, I found the customer's insistence that Ballard was complicit and ultimately as guilty as any Dollhouse patron to be creepy as fuck. It felt to me that Joss was lecturing the audience as if to say, yeah, this gets me off but admit it--it gets you off too. We're all in this together. Um, no.

Finally, Echo remains a complete cipher in this scene. How does this affect her as a person? It doesn't come up at all. And I realize that people will say that's the point of the show, that she's being dehumanized. But we only care about her dehumanization if we get a glimpse of her humanity in the first place. Part of this is Dusku's fault since she is simply a weak actress. But the biggest blame has to sit with Whedon, who has not written any humanity into the part. The Dolls are either completely inhabiting a persona that's been chosen for them, or they're slack-jawed automatons. Whedon hasn't given us any reason to care about these people.

I was thinking about the debate this weekend and it suddenly hit me that Alfred Hitchcock had explored similar themes in his film Vertigo, in which Jimmy Stewart works to transform Kim Novak into the vision of the woman he loved and believes is dead. Novak knows that spending time with Stewart is dangerous yet she gives in to his demands because she loves him. Stewart insists that Novack change her clothing, her makeup and even the color of her hair.  Novak fights each step of the transformation but, desperate for Stewart's love, she finally agrees to completely embody Stewart's fantasy woman. Ultimately the transformation destroys her when a series of plot twists result in her accidental death, caused by Stewart. 

Like Dollhouse, Vertigo examines issues of obsession, exploitation and sexual consent. Unlike Dollhouse, Vertigo makes its "doll" a fully realized human being. Novak's desperate need for love and her agonized efforts to please Stewart are seen in stark contrast with his treatment of her as a fetish object. There's an amazing scene close to the end of the movie where Novak appears in the same clothes and the same hair color as Stewart's supposedly dead lover--but she has defiantly worn her hair down instead of the chignon Stewart expects. He pressures her to put up her hair and Novak flashes him a look of agony--but ultimately gives in because she's willing to sacrifice her humanity in order to be loved.

Contrast this with Whedon's Dolls who while on assignment completely assume programmed persona and then lapse into a beatific childlike state afterwards. At no time do we see their agony, their loss, on a visceral level. We see how other people react to them, we see what other people think of them--but the Dolls themselves are a nothingness.

Now I know there are people who say, oh, but the show's getting good now.  But I watched the show for six weeks and it wasn't working. Exactly how much loyalty is someone supposed to reasonably have for a show before deciding to give up? I know that Whedon has a devoted following (and for the record I was a huge Buffy and Angel fan, and also enjoyed Firefly) but asking his fan base to hang in there because this is really going to pay off in two months? Is asking too much.