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297 Stuffing a Rabbit in It Character, Narrative, and Time in the Whedonverses L O R N A J O W E T T In Twin Peaks (1990–91), Laura Palmer is memorably described as being “filled with secrets” (1.2). In Dollhouse, on the other hand, a character initially sees Echo as “just an empty hat. Till you stuff a rabbit in it” (“The Target” 1.2). Any television character can be seen as an empty hat that becomes potentially full of secrets (or rabbits): the processes of creating, writing, directing, acting, shooting, or editing are all ways of stuffing that rabbit in it. The episodes mentioned in this necessarily brief examination “propel the possibilities of television drama,” as Matthew Pateman says (2006, 109), because they demonstrate that the Whedonverse series are highly conscious of how television narrative and character work and how viewers read them. The Whedonverse series are not unique in using narrative and time to develop characters or even to interrogate identity. On the contrary, their consistent meditation upon the (de)construction of subjectivity over time is something that makes them typical of contemporary television and exemplary quality television drama. As Catherine Johnson observes, VCR and DVD technology changes the way television is produced as well as the way it is consumed: “As television becomes less ephemeral, series with ongoing and complex narrative structures become more commercially viable” (2005, 117). Niche marketing also enables long-form narratives to succeed commercially. Character is thus increasingly important to television drama. Popular hits such as Lost (2004–10) successfully combine cult elements with mainstream television, some argue, by focusing on character (see Pearson 2009). The revival of Doctor Who (2005–present) develops its main characters within existing mythology but also in line with audience expectations of contemporary quality television. The importance of characters in television drama generally is the first of two important premises underpinning this examination. Even in fantasy, 298 ✴ Overarching Topics horror, and science fiction, where once the spectacle of the fantastic was foregrounded , now, Catherine Johnson notes, genre television places “emphasis on the reactions of characters to the unknown over the representation of the fantastic itself. . . . [C]limactic cliff-hangers . . . end with a close-up of the face of a recurring character, rather than a dramatic special effect or action sequence” (2005, 80). Serious television drama started taking on aspects of soap opera narrative forty or fifty years ago, and soap elements are now common in any ensemble cast show. An ensemble cast allows for more stories because there are more characters and their interactions set up more narrative possibilities. Character interactions also afford narratives that resist closure, typically running alongside self-contained episodes or season story arcs. For these reasons, Rhonda Wilcox (2005) and others have championed Buffy as a serial narrative on a par with the novels of Dickens—and Dickens is a favorite of Joss Whedon. The second premise intersects with the first. Television has a history of representing time, and conventions (narrative, visual, aural) for doing so have been firmly established. We are all familiar with flashback or backstory; we are accustomed to titles telling us where and when we are or to interpreting a montage of images designed to show time passing. In the fantastic, time can be represented and used in ways not possible for more “realistic” television drama. Strict conventions of realism preclude even flashbacks, and shows such as The Wire and The Shield (both 2002–8) generally avoid disruption of “real” time and naturalistic continuity. The fantastic, on the other hand, can include vampire characters who have lived for hundreds of years, or parallel time streams, and parallel characters inhabiting them. It opens up endless possibilities for rendering time and memory and exploring subjectivity. The Whedonverse shows apply and adapt conventional television strategies for developing character, foregrounding subjectivity as fluid and constantly reconstructed. Time can function, for instance, to provide direction, dynamism : as Whedon comments, “People move on. You have to move forward all of the time” (quoted in Havens 2003, 114). Whether through point of view, narration, memory, or prophecy, perceptions of time and identity are always limited, contingent, and open to interpretation. Here the focus is on memory. Memory Retrieval All of the Whedonverse series use flashback to extend the temporal range of their narratives. Buffy often moves back in time and is not limited to the recent past, showing the 1970s (“Fool for Love” 5.7), the 1860s (“Becoming, Part [18.118.184.237] Project...

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