Methadone for “Buffy” addicts
Martyred vampire Spike is back (sort of!) on the new season of "Angel," which has recaptured at least some of the Buffyverse's magic.
Topics: Television, Entertainment News
This season of “Angel” is methadone for “Buffy” addicts in withdrawal, a Wednesday night palliative for the pangs left by that big void on Tuesdays, almost the real thing but not quite. So it’s only right that “Angel” has brought back one of the most popular supporting characters from “Buffy,” Spike — well, kind of. Last seen perishing in a glorious self-sacrifice that saved the world at the climax of the series finale of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” James Marsters’ bleached-blond vampire martyr has been anticlimactically dragged back to the known Buffyverse, but in noncorporeal form.
Spike is there, in the offices of the evil multinational law firm Wolfram & Hart, but not all there. He walks through walls and desks, and can’t throw a punch that connects to anyone’s chin. Since he first arrived in Sunnydale, he’s gone from a nasty villain to a neutered monster with a government-installed brain chip that prevented him from hurting human beings to a lovelorn semi-reformed Scooby Gang member to a conscience-ridden vampire with a soul to a resurrected immaterial phantom. No wonder he’s so cranky.
A not-quite Spike fits in all too well with the “Angel” crowd. Joss Whedon’s second-banana series has been struggling for years to match the appeal of “Buffy.” Its supporting characters are too often pale shadows of those in the first show — Fred is the poor man’s Willow, Wesley the poor man’s Giles. And when the series does score a success in this key area — with Andy Hallett’s fabulous green-skinned lounge lizard, Lorne — it’s not entirely sure what to do about it, swinging back and forth between overworking a good thing and neglecting it.
Plus, can we talk about Gunn, please? News flash, everyone: He’s black. Race has never been a subject well tackled by Mutant Enemy, the company that produces both shows, and the mystery is why. Gunn’s situation — a black man who left the community he grew up in and defended with his life to fight the “bigger” good fight with a handful of white folks — just naturally generates the kind of internal quandaries that make Whedon’s characters’ travails so fascinating. Doesn’t Gunn ever feel a twinge of homesickness, of identity confusion, of racial alienation? The new season’s idea of implanting him with a comprehensive knowledge of the law is amusing, but does he have to be such an Oreo?
Laura Miller is a senior writer for Salon. She is the author of "The Magician's Book: A Skeptic's Adventures in Narnia" and has a Web site, magiciansbook.com. More Laura Miller.




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