Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 1

After 2 classes with Prof. Levina and countless conversations with TV fans, I finally broke down and watched this. What can I even call it? A cult classic? Joss Whedon’s first major self-masturbatory contribution to pop culture? An excuse to show SMG in crop tops? An experimental period in visual effects and makeup? Who knows. In any case, get ready for my underwhelming opinion: I liked it, but I didn’t love it.

I have this rule. I finish out a season of television. Not a disc, not an episode, but a season. I finished Season 1 of Flight of the Conchords and, if you know me relatively well, you know that I kind of hated it. But it’s a matter of principle. And so I stuck it out — though sticking it out with the very sexy David Boreanaz turning up now and then and looking like this is not exactly torture.

You know what? I’m glad I stuck it out. I learned a few things. Vampires are fucking fascinating — no shit. I loved that they all weren’t hot. Like the Master guy. He was an ugly dude. And all the others looked like meatheads or dye-job blondes. It was grossly refreshing.

Also, Nicholas Brendon was Chandler before Chandler was Chandler — I’m talking sarcastic comments, body movements, even the way his mouth moves when he speaks. He is hilarious. And I admit I’m terribly curious about Willow’s storyline. Allyson Hannigan is an adorable actress, and I think her tale might convince me to rent the second season, if I ever get around to it.

Nothin’ much to report on the SMG front. She’s … fine I guess.

But mostly, I just wanted to watch Angel. Maybe I’ll watch that show instead.