Do not go gentle into that good night...
May. 20th, 2004 01:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkatAh Angel…it’s over. My last episode review ever. A moment of silence. Okay on to my review.
The ending did not surprise me nor did it disappoint. It was much as I expected, the Wild Bunch ending with a touch, possibly more than a touch, of the charm of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.
The Wild Bunch and Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid are two westerns that premiered the same year: 1969. A year that has, oddly enough, a great deal in common with 2004 – we were in a horrible war that we could not extricate ourselves from. We distrusted our government. We felt unsafe. And uncertain about ourselves and our world and our place in it. The films of the late 60’s and early 70’s comment on that uncertainty much as Angel the Series comments on it today.
Both films concerned the adventures of outlaws: One group, the Wild Bunch – had been Butch Cassidy’s gang, at least historically, in Peckinpah's version, Butch is never referenced. The other, Butch and Sundance – a buddy team who remind me a great deal of Spike and Angel, vaguely refers to the bunch. One film, The Wild Bunch, was dark and violent, while the other, Butch, had touches of sardonic humor and quirky Burt Bachnarch tunes, like Raindrops Keep Failling on My Head. Yet, both ended the same. The aging outlaws found themselves up against impossible odds – in this case the Mexican Army. They were outgunned, out-manned and the set-up was ironically their choice. They had the option prior to this to end their retirement quietly, they could die in their beds, but like Angel and his gang, they decide to not go gently into that good night. They rage against the dying of the light and die fighting.
One of the major differences between the endings of the Wild Bunch and Butch is the final frame, how the director chooses to show that fight. In Peckinpah’s film we see each and every gory detail in slow-motion. Bullets rip through the protagonists’ bodies and we watch them die graphically upon the screen. Goldman’s film, on the other hand, takes a different route, a more elegant one in my opinion, that of the freeze frame. We don’t see the battle. We don’t see our protagonists die. What we see is their faces raised up nobly to face what is ahead. This is the shot that Whedon and Bell choose for Angel and in doing so they pay homage to the more optimistic of the two films. They also put their own imprint on it – instead of sand, we have rain, and instead of an open space, an alley, and instead of all men – a woman stands amongst them, an incredibly powerful woman, which is something that would have annoyed both Peckinpah and Goldman.
It’s a tricky ending. It certainly was back in 1969. Not bright and shiny and wrapped in a bow. It’s not an ending like most television endings which do go “gently into that good night”. For examples see the season finals of Star Trek Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Fraiser, and Friends. Instead Angel rages against it's ending. Much like Dylan Thomas’ poem similarly states: Do not Go Gently Into That Good Night, and much like the two movies mentioned above. Thomas’s poem is about death and in a sense old age or the struggle against old age. Mortality. It’s also about endings. Just as the title of tonight’s episode refers to endings or rather how we deal with them.
Not Fade Away is the title of two popular rock songs. The first is the 1950’s song by Buddy Holly, which some associate with his untimely death by plane crash in the late 50’s early 60’s – the event that is at the center of Don Maclean’s “American Pie”. It’s the same plane crash that killed the Big Bopper and Richie Valens – the 1950s equivalent of Justin Timberlake, and whoever else is at the top of the charts at the moment. The second is a song by The Grateful Dead, based loosely on Holly’s original lyrics, circa 1969. The song itself has a great deal in common with Dylan Thomas’ poem and William Goldman’s ending of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid: all three deal with how we face death, how we face that final curtain, how in truth we face our own mortality.
Throughout tonight’s episode we have allusions to mortality, what it means to be human, to die, to live, and what purpose if any we find within it. Angel tells his gang to take the day off before the final battle – to do something that makes them happy. One last day. And each one does. Lorne signs a song at a club while Spike chooses to spend his reciting poetry, a much better version of an old poem to a much more appreciative crowd. In fact the new crowd is almost the complete opposite of the old one – the old one prissy academics filled with their own self-importance, the new one beefed up, tattooed, tough guys. The contrast is startling – partly because the first group discusses violence like it was art, dismissing poetry as a trivial matter or something they wish to ignore unless it is of a certain level making themselves in the process feel important by the dismissal, while the second dismisses the violence, has no interest in really discussing it, knows what it is and prefers the poetry. At any rate - Spike spends his last day much as he spent his last human one as William, sharing his art. Yet in this instance, instead of sharing it with a group of prissy fools, he shares it with a crowd of people who have seen far too much violence. Just as the death he goes out to confront – is not one he embraces gently as a lover, but rages against like a fighter, determined to live and help the world. His poetry may not be award-winning poetry, but does it matter? Really? I’ve always found criticisms on poetry to be sort of hypocritical to be honest, all poetry comes from the heart, and all of it is good or bad depending on the reader or listener. Poetry is a highly subjective art form after all.
Next is Gunn, who chooses to spend the day helping Anne, Anne who like Spike, had started her journey waiting to embrace death like a lover – but now raises her head in the sunlight and embraces life. Anne began her career as Chanterelle in Lie to Me S2 BTVS – her neck exposed to Spike’s fangs, seeing death as a better version to life. Buffy saved her, and in the process she saw what William hadn’t when he got turned, the monster. Then as a night blooming Lily, she follows an old lover down the rabbit hole to hell- an apt metaphor for her despair. This time she fights it back, by Buffy’s side, as both climb out of hell. (Anne S3 BTVS). Now having taken on the name of Anne, she has become a mother of sorts to countless runaways and troubled children ensuring they don’t follow her path and see each day as a new miracle. When Gunn asks her how she would handle being told life is meaningless and controlled by fate, she smiles and says cheerily, I’d still move my boxes to the new shelter and keep on trucking. Ann learned long ago that it’s the day to day fight that matters not the destination, which can change at a moment’s notice.
Then we have Angel and Connor. Connor is struggling to put together a resume, he is trying to find a regular job. He tells Angel that he remembers, he knows Angel is his father, and he understand why Angel did it. And he’s grateful. It’s like an old nightmare he states. And he also once again tells Angel to lighten up. An echo of Spike. See the humor in it. Connor has moved on to the “business” of living. Juxtaposed to this is Wes and Illyria – Wes still mourning Fred, Wes who of all the characters most wishes to embrace death – and hopefully through death his dead lover on the other side. He cannot see the live one in front of him, for the dead one she resembles. So he spends his last day with Illyria – in a sense – mourning Fred.
Last, we have Lindsey and Eve, and Lindsey’s comment that Eve chose to give up her “immortality” to be with him. The reverse of Darla, whom Lindsey turned immortal in order to keep. Their romance in many ways is the photo-negative of the Darla/Lindsey romance. And it ends in the reverse as well – with Lindsey dying and Eve remaining trapped at WR&H, alone.
The other allusion to mortality is the shanshue prophecy, which Angel reluctantly signs away. He lets go of it. Stating he doesn’t want to be human. Yet…one wonders. He asks Harmony if she misses it and she struggles with the idea. Not really. But wait, yes, she misses her heart beating whenever she kissed a really cool guy. She does miss that. Once again the metaphor of the un-beating/dead heart. Spike also references the prophecy, curious to know which of them will get it or if it is even an option? He’s pretty certain it isn’t but just to be sure, asks. Angel shrugs it off, stating it’s doubtful they’ll live. One wonders at this point – has Angel given up?
For an answer - we come back to the title of the piece and the Dylan Thomas poem. Not Fade Away, Do not go gentle into that good night…it’s not about giving up and it’s not about holding onto something that we shouldn’t have – such as eternal life. It’s about something else – it’s about fighting for the light. As Angel attempts to explain to Hamilton, whom he realizes can never understand: Not letting ourselves succumb to darkness and despair. Not giving in to the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart who attempt to manipulate the world with their strings.
Here’s the Dylan Thomas poem for those who are curious:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
This poem makes me think of Wesley. And no, I was not surprised by his death. I figured out he was going to die last Friday actually, a friend inadvertently said something that somehow caused me to piece it together, although I think I would have figured it out anyway. It just fit. Why? Ah. Wes is the old man of the piece. Tired. Worn out. He’s been with Angel since the beginning. And he is the last of the original team, the original team that was once made up of Doyle and Cordelia, and after Doyle’s death – Wes. Angel is left to fight his final battle with the new team – Gunn, Illyria and Spike. Also as Wes, himself, states to Illyria, he has nothing to live for. He wants to die. He is the only one of the group – who I believe does. Yet, he does rage against the dying of the light. He does fight. The man he fights? Is the one responsible for both removing his painful memories and for restoring them. A Wizard of sorts, a person who lies. Wes tells Illyria, he’s tired of lies. He wants truth. He’s tired of magic, slight of hand, and illusions. But when he dies – he requests the lie, he wants the illusion. Wouldn’t it be ironic if in that dying moment, Illyria unwittingly gave him the truth?
Illyria certainly doesn’t go gentle into that good night. She’s old. Yet young. And her grief throws her, overwhelms her. Fills her with rage and passion. Had Illyria truly fallen for Wes? Was that scene the photo-negative of Fred’s death in Hole in The World? Perhaps. Illyria rages as he dies and with her fist smashes through Vail’s face just as Connor once smashed his through Jasmine another teller of lies and weaver of illusions (Peace-Out ATS S4). Also both old ones, far past their prime, taken down by one they’d under-estimated.
Life and death…are juxtaposed here with the Wes/Illyria scene and Spike and the baby. As Wes lies dying, we find Spike saving the child Angel reportedly gave to the demons. He fights them off with a quip. And the scene reminds me of another one long ago, where Angel saved a child from Darla, who requested he eat it in front of her. (Darla ATS S2)
Meanwhile Lorne, who despises violence, is stuck watching Lindsey do his part for the team. Lindsey has agreed to join Angel’s team. Or so we are lead to believe. After all – it only makes sense that these two take down WR&H together. Except Angel refuses to give Lindsey his final moment – it is not Angel who kills Lindsey. Nor is it Angel who engages Lindsey in a final battle. That task is left to Lorne – who does it abruptly, neatly, and quickly with few words. “Wait,” Lindsey screams, “I’m on your team. Want to hear me sing?” “ No,” Lorne replies, “I’ve already heard you sing.” (Dead End S2 ATS) The master of empathy and mercy – does the opposite. It’s why Lorne isn’t in the final battle and it’s why Lorne tells Angel goodbye, you won’t see me after this and don’t look for me even if you survive. It also may be why Lorne’s opinion of their work and Angel has changed so drastically. Lorne has lost himself and falls into the passages of the demon night. The world he had hoped to leave behind him in Pylea. Retreating. While Lindsey dies moaning about Angel, like a rejected lover wishing for that last kiss, Eve stands in Angel’s office alone, lost, forlorne in her former garden.
The garden does have a betrayer, of course, and that is Harmony – who does as Angel expected, betray him. Much like Eve betrays Adam. Harmony argues she wouldn’t have if he’d shown any respect or had faith in her. And one can’t help but wonder if Harm has a point – if he had, would she have betrayed him to Hamilton? Or did Angel in effect push Harmony into doing it – so he could play out his end of the plan? It does however remind me of the first Harmony episode, Disharmony, S2 ATS, where Angel tells Cordy that Harmony will betray them – given the first good opportunity. She can’t help it. She doesn’t have a soul. Is Angel right? One isn’t sure – since people with souls betray you all the time. Or is Harmony right – his inability to have faith in her – causes her to betray him?
Angel’s final on-screen battle is of course with the Wolf, the Ram, and The Hart as represented by Hamilton. All the things Angel may have once aspired to. Power. Ambition. The great-achiever. And for a while it looks like Hamilton has the upper hand, but along comes Conner, the expression of life – who lends a hand. Connor shows up oddly enough just after Hamilton tells Angel he was a waste as a human and has accomplished nothing worthwhile. Connor, of course, is evidence to the contrary, a mortal child with a mortal life. Connor aids Angel and in doing so seals the loop on his own story. WR&H gave Connor his new life and Connor helps his father bring down their house of cards. The house of cards that had a hand in creating Connor to begin with. Connor can’t be the one to beat Hamilton of course. Nor can he really stay to watch Angel do it with the house falling down around them. Connor’s arc has ended, he must go and live his life, he must leave the business of killing behind him. He’s long since ceased being part of it. This is Angel’s fight and Angel’s fight is as always primarily with himself. Hamilton in some ways represents the dark part of himself, just as Lindsey did, and all that dark part yearned for. Immortality. Not caring about anyone. Power. Power coursing through his blood. Hamilton also represents the Powers That Be, the Senior Partners and fate. You can’t beat me – he tells Angel, I’m beyond you. Above you. But Angel does, by sucking his blood – just as he sucked Hamilton’s twin’s blood, Drogyn – one weak and one powerful. By sucking Drogyn – he gets into the circle, by sucking Hamilton he breaks the circle wide open, flipping over the game, pulling down the house, and unleashing the hordes just like the anti-heroes in those old Westerns once did ages ago.
The last scene is a fitting one - Angel in the rain, in an alley, next to three friends. It isn’t exactly an echo of the first scene in the first episode City Of , which we see in the opening credits every week – Angel walking alone in the rain in an alley, no – that came just before, where for a brief moment we really did think he’d be alone in this. But he’s not. He * never * has been. Why? Because like those Westerns of old, it’s not the fight that matters so much as our connections with one another along the way. Who is standing by our side. We may not go gentle into that good night, yet we still must go, we are mortal after all, we die and all things do come to an end even television shows – but the reason we don’t fade away is because of those connections with others. Without Anne, Connor, Harmony, Lorne, Nina and the viewers…there would be no one to remember and Angel would fade away. Just like if it weren’t for the Grateful Dead and Don Maclean – Buddy Holly’s words and his memory might have faded away.
I enjoyed the episode. And I will miss this series. But I think this was a satisfying ending to it. Not perfect. But TV seldom is.
The ending did not surprise me nor did it disappoint. It was much as I expected, the Wild Bunch ending with a touch, possibly more than a touch, of the charm of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid.
The Wild Bunch and Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid are two westerns that premiered the same year: 1969. A year that has, oddly enough, a great deal in common with 2004 – we were in a horrible war that we could not extricate ourselves from. We distrusted our government. We felt unsafe. And uncertain about ourselves and our world and our place in it. The films of the late 60’s and early 70’s comment on that uncertainty much as Angel the Series comments on it today.
Both films concerned the adventures of outlaws: One group, the Wild Bunch – had been Butch Cassidy’s gang, at least historically, in Peckinpah's version, Butch is never referenced. The other, Butch and Sundance – a buddy team who remind me a great deal of Spike and Angel, vaguely refers to the bunch. One film, The Wild Bunch, was dark and violent, while the other, Butch, had touches of sardonic humor and quirky Burt Bachnarch tunes, like Raindrops Keep Failling on My Head. Yet, both ended the same. The aging outlaws found themselves up against impossible odds – in this case the Mexican Army. They were outgunned, out-manned and the set-up was ironically their choice. They had the option prior to this to end their retirement quietly, they could die in their beds, but like Angel and his gang, they decide to not go gently into that good night. They rage against the dying of the light and die fighting.
One of the major differences between the endings of the Wild Bunch and Butch is the final frame, how the director chooses to show that fight. In Peckinpah’s film we see each and every gory detail in slow-motion. Bullets rip through the protagonists’ bodies and we watch them die graphically upon the screen. Goldman’s film, on the other hand, takes a different route, a more elegant one in my opinion, that of the freeze frame. We don’t see the battle. We don’t see our protagonists die. What we see is their faces raised up nobly to face what is ahead. This is the shot that Whedon and Bell choose for Angel and in doing so they pay homage to the more optimistic of the two films. They also put their own imprint on it – instead of sand, we have rain, and instead of an open space, an alley, and instead of all men – a woman stands amongst them, an incredibly powerful woman, which is something that would have annoyed both Peckinpah and Goldman.
It’s a tricky ending. It certainly was back in 1969. Not bright and shiny and wrapped in a bow. It’s not an ending like most television endings which do go “gently into that good night”. For examples see the season finals of Star Trek Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Fraiser, and Friends. Instead Angel rages against it's ending. Much like Dylan Thomas’ poem similarly states: Do not Go Gently Into That Good Night, and much like the two movies mentioned above. Thomas’s poem is about death and in a sense old age or the struggle against old age. Mortality. It’s also about endings. Just as the title of tonight’s episode refers to endings or rather how we deal with them.
Not Fade Away is the title of two popular rock songs. The first is the 1950’s song by Buddy Holly, which some associate with his untimely death by plane crash in the late 50’s early 60’s – the event that is at the center of Don Maclean’s “American Pie”. It’s the same plane crash that killed the Big Bopper and Richie Valens – the 1950s equivalent of Justin Timberlake, and whoever else is at the top of the charts at the moment. The second is a song by The Grateful Dead, based loosely on Holly’s original lyrics, circa 1969. The song itself has a great deal in common with Dylan Thomas’ poem and William Goldman’s ending of Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid: all three deal with how we face death, how we face that final curtain, how in truth we face our own mortality.
Throughout tonight’s episode we have allusions to mortality, what it means to be human, to die, to live, and what purpose if any we find within it. Angel tells his gang to take the day off before the final battle – to do something that makes them happy. One last day. And each one does. Lorne signs a song at a club while Spike chooses to spend his reciting poetry, a much better version of an old poem to a much more appreciative crowd. In fact the new crowd is almost the complete opposite of the old one – the old one prissy academics filled with their own self-importance, the new one beefed up, tattooed, tough guys. The contrast is startling – partly because the first group discusses violence like it was art, dismissing poetry as a trivial matter or something they wish to ignore unless it is of a certain level making themselves in the process feel important by the dismissal, while the second dismisses the violence, has no interest in really discussing it, knows what it is and prefers the poetry. At any rate - Spike spends his last day much as he spent his last human one as William, sharing his art. Yet in this instance, instead of sharing it with a group of prissy fools, he shares it with a crowd of people who have seen far too much violence. Just as the death he goes out to confront – is not one he embraces gently as a lover, but rages against like a fighter, determined to live and help the world. His poetry may not be award-winning poetry, but does it matter? Really? I’ve always found criticisms on poetry to be sort of hypocritical to be honest, all poetry comes from the heart, and all of it is good or bad depending on the reader or listener. Poetry is a highly subjective art form after all.
Next is Gunn, who chooses to spend the day helping Anne, Anne who like Spike, had started her journey waiting to embrace death like a lover – but now raises her head in the sunlight and embraces life. Anne began her career as Chanterelle in Lie to Me S2 BTVS – her neck exposed to Spike’s fangs, seeing death as a better version to life. Buffy saved her, and in the process she saw what William hadn’t when he got turned, the monster. Then as a night blooming Lily, she follows an old lover down the rabbit hole to hell- an apt metaphor for her despair. This time she fights it back, by Buffy’s side, as both climb out of hell. (Anne S3 BTVS). Now having taken on the name of Anne, she has become a mother of sorts to countless runaways and troubled children ensuring they don’t follow her path and see each day as a new miracle. When Gunn asks her how she would handle being told life is meaningless and controlled by fate, she smiles and says cheerily, I’d still move my boxes to the new shelter and keep on trucking. Ann learned long ago that it’s the day to day fight that matters not the destination, which can change at a moment’s notice.
Then we have Angel and Connor. Connor is struggling to put together a resume, he is trying to find a regular job. He tells Angel that he remembers, he knows Angel is his father, and he understand why Angel did it. And he’s grateful. It’s like an old nightmare he states. And he also once again tells Angel to lighten up. An echo of Spike. See the humor in it. Connor has moved on to the “business” of living. Juxtaposed to this is Wes and Illyria – Wes still mourning Fred, Wes who of all the characters most wishes to embrace death – and hopefully through death his dead lover on the other side. He cannot see the live one in front of him, for the dead one she resembles. So he spends his last day with Illyria – in a sense – mourning Fred.
Last, we have Lindsey and Eve, and Lindsey’s comment that Eve chose to give up her “immortality” to be with him. The reverse of Darla, whom Lindsey turned immortal in order to keep. Their romance in many ways is the photo-negative of the Darla/Lindsey romance. And it ends in the reverse as well – with Lindsey dying and Eve remaining trapped at WR&H, alone.
The other allusion to mortality is the shanshue prophecy, which Angel reluctantly signs away. He lets go of it. Stating he doesn’t want to be human. Yet…one wonders. He asks Harmony if she misses it and she struggles with the idea. Not really. But wait, yes, she misses her heart beating whenever she kissed a really cool guy. She does miss that. Once again the metaphor of the un-beating/dead heart. Spike also references the prophecy, curious to know which of them will get it or if it is even an option? He’s pretty certain it isn’t but just to be sure, asks. Angel shrugs it off, stating it’s doubtful they’ll live. One wonders at this point – has Angel given up?
For an answer - we come back to the title of the piece and the Dylan Thomas poem. Not Fade Away, Do not go gentle into that good night…it’s not about giving up and it’s not about holding onto something that we shouldn’t have – such as eternal life. It’s about something else – it’s about fighting for the light. As Angel attempts to explain to Hamilton, whom he realizes can never understand: Not letting ourselves succumb to darkness and despair. Not giving in to the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart who attempt to manipulate the world with their strings.
Here’s the Dylan Thomas poem for those who are curious:
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
This poem makes me think of Wesley. And no, I was not surprised by his death. I figured out he was going to die last Friday actually, a friend inadvertently said something that somehow caused me to piece it together, although I think I would have figured it out anyway. It just fit. Why? Ah. Wes is the old man of the piece. Tired. Worn out. He’s been with Angel since the beginning. And he is the last of the original team, the original team that was once made up of Doyle and Cordelia, and after Doyle’s death – Wes. Angel is left to fight his final battle with the new team – Gunn, Illyria and Spike. Also as Wes, himself, states to Illyria, he has nothing to live for. He wants to die. He is the only one of the group – who I believe does. Yet, he does rage against the dying of the light. He does fight. The man he fights? Is the one responsible for both removing his painful memories and for restoring them. A Wizard of sorts, a person who lies. Wes tells Illyria, he’s tired of lies. He wants truth. He’s tired of magic, slight of hand, and illusions. But when he dies – he requests the lie, he wants the illusion. Wouldn’t it be ironic if in that dying moment, Illyria unwittingly gave him the truth?
Illyria certainly doesn’t go gentle into that good night. She’s old. Yet young. And her grief throws her, overwhelms her. Fills her with rage and passion. Had Illyria truly fallen for Wes? Was that scene the photo-negative of Fred’s death in Hole in The World? Perhaps. Illyria rages as he dies and with her fist smashes through Vail’s face just as Connor once smashed his through Jasmine another teller of lies and weaver of illusions (Peace-Out ATS S4). Also both old ones, far past their prime, taken down by one they’d under-estimated.
Life and death…are juxtaposed here with the Wes/Illyria scene and Spike and the baby. As Wes lies dying, we find Spike saving the child Angel reportedly gave to the demons. He fights them off with a quip. And the scene reminds me of another one long ago, where Angel saved a child from Darla, who requested he eat it in front of her. (Darla ATS S2)
Meanwhile Lorne, who despises violence, is stuck watching Lindsey do his part for the team. Lindsey has agreed to join Angel’s team. Or so we are lead to believe. After all – it only makes sense that these two take down WR&H together. Except Angel refuses to give Lindsey his final moment – it is not Angel who kills Lindsey. Nor is it Angel who engages Lindsey in a final battle. That task is left to Lorne – who does it abruptly, neatly, and quickly with few words. “Wait,” Lindsey screams, “I’m on your team. Want to hear me sing?” “ No,” Lorne replies, “I’ve already heard you sing.” (Dead End S2 ATS) The master of empathy and mercy – does the opposite. It’s why Lorne isn’t in the final battle and it’s why Lorne tells Angel goodbye, you won’t see me after this and don’t look for me even if you survive. It also may be why Lorne’s opinion of their work and Angel has changed so drastically. Lorne has lost himself and falls into the passages of the demon night. The world he had hoped to leave behind him in Pylea. Retreating. While Lindsey dies moaning about Angel, like a rejected lover wishing for that last kiss, Eve stands in Angel’s office alone, lost, forlorne in her former garden.
The garden does have a betrayer, of course, and that is Harmony – who does as Angel expected, betray him. Much like Eve betrays Adam. Harmony argues she wouldn’t have if he’d shown any respect or had faith in her. And one can’t help but wonder if Harm has a point – if he had, would she have betrayed him to Hamilton? Or did Angel in effect push Harmony into doing it – so he could play out his end of the plan? It does however remind me of the first Harmony episode, Disharmony, S2 ATS, where Angel tells Cordy that Harmony will betray them – given the first good opportunity. She can’t help it. She doesn’t have a soul. Is Angel right? One isn’t sure – since people with souls betray you all the time. Or is Harmony right – his inability to have faith in her – causes her to betray him?
Angel’s final on-screen battle is of course with the Wolf, the Ram, and The Hart as represented by Hamilton. All the things Angel may have once aspired to. Power. Ambition. The great-achiever. And for a while it looks like Hamilton has the upper hand, but along comes Conner, the expression of life – who lends a hand. Connor shows up oddly enough just after Hamilton tells Angel he was a waste as a human and has accomplished nothing worthwhile. Connor, of course, is evidence to the contrary, a mortal child with a mortal life. Connor aids Angel and in doing so seals the loop on his own story. WR&H gave Connor his new life and Connor helps his father bring down their house of cards. The house of cards that had a hand in creating Connor to begin with. Connor can’t be the one to beat Hamilton of course. Nor can he really stay to watch Angel do it with the house falling down around them. Connor’s arc has ended, he must go and live his life, he must leave the business of killing behind him. He’s long since ceased being part of it. This is Angel’s fight and Angel’s fight is as always primarily with himself. Hamilton in some ways represents the dark part of himself, just as Lindsey did, and all that dark part yearned for. Immortality. Not caring about anyone. Power. Power coursing through his blood. Hamilton also represents the Powers That Be, the Senior Partners and fate. You can’t beat me – he tells Angel, I’m beyond you. Above you. But Angel does, by sucking his blood – just as he sucked Hamilton’s twin’s blood, Drogyn – one weak and one powerful. By sucking Drogyn – he gets into the circle, by sucking Hamilton he breaks the circle wide open, flipping over the game, pulling down the house, and unleashing the hordes just like the anti-heroes in those old Westerns once did ages ago.
The last scene is a fitting one - Angel in the rain, in an alley, next to three friends. It isn’t exactly an echo of the first scene in the first episode City Of , which we see in the opening credits every week – Angel walking alone in the rain in an alley, no – that came just before, where for a brief moment we really did think he’d be alone in this. But he’s not. He * never * has been. Why? Because like those Westerns of old, it’s not the fight that matters so much as our connections with one another along the way. Who is standing by our side. We may not go gentle into that good night, yet we still must go, we are mortal after all, we die and all things do come to an end even television shows – but the reason we don’t fade away is because of those connections with others. Without Anne, Connor, Harmony, Lorne, Nina and the viewers…there would be no one to remember and Angel would fade away. Just like if it weren’t for the Grateful Dead and Don Maclean – Buddy Holly’s words and his memory might have faded away.
I enjoyed the episode. And I will miss this series. But I think this was a satisfying ending to it. Not perfect. But TV seldom is.
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Date: 2004-05-20 07:05 am (UTC)Where as in The Wild Bunch you have a gang whose time has run out, in Butch Cassidy there really was no time for the characters. They are always on the edge of catastrophe or failure (ie. poverty). What makes the movie interesting is that they make the best of the time they have, even the final moments.
Even Etta Place's decision to back out of that certain end, was reflected in Lorne's decision.
The other movie, I was reminded of even at the end of 5.21 was, of course The Godfather. The fact that 5.22 played out like that movie's climax, at least before the fight between Angel and Hamilton isn't too surprising.
Agree
Date: 2004-05-22 09:01 pm (UTC)I agree - The ending also had more in common with Butch and Sundance in tone than Wild Bunch - teetering on edge of catastrophe with sardonic humor, with Etta playing the Lorne role.
Other movies referenced include B films, lesser known as a result:
Enemy Mine - the Dennis Quaid/Louis Gossett Jr. film, where Gossett JR (who plays the enemy alien that Quaid's astronaut reluctantly befriends over time) dies, sending Quaid on one last mission to save a baby from sacrifice. Angel's sending Spike to save the Baby from the Fell's is similar to that movie, as is the relationship between Spike and Angel.
The Girl Can't Help It - an old Jane Mansfield picture - has a man trying to teach an actress to act, to train her, at the end of the pic, he finds out she is a great actress, but it's too late for some reason (I got a summary of it off a fanboard somewhere) - this can be compared to Wes teaching Illyria about human grief and love, she gets it just as he dies, and it's too late.
So yep, Whedon loves his movie references.
Excellent review...
Date: 2004-05-20 07:39 am (UTC)Re: Excellent review...
Date: 2004-05-20 12:03 pm (UTC)Also...
Date: 2004-05-20 07:46 am (UTC)What I found so amazing about the ending is that Joss found a way to kill off almost his entire cast of characters, but still not make it oppressively bleak. It was actually very uplifting. Not that Wes' death scene with Illyria didn't completely emotionally wreck me. ;-)
Re: Also...
Date: 2004-05-20 04:01 pm (UTC)Of course, the comparison w/T&L didn't occur to me until afterwards, so I have no witnesses...hey, it's open-ended, just like the Angel finale, so I can claim whatever I want!
arrgghh! forgot to sign again!
Date: 2004-05-20 06:39 pm (UTC)--anom
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Date: 2004-05-21 02:44 pm (UTC)