I wanted to like FIREFLY. You’ve no IDEA how much I wanted to like FIREFLY, if for no other reason than it features Jewel Staite from mine and Bill Mumy’s SPACE CASES.
Here’s the thing: Joss Whedon has made his name and reputation on programs that take cliches and invert them, stand them on their collective ears. The cute helpless blonde who is first to be screaming victim of the monster? She’s the heroine who kicks their butts. The vampiric creature who goes bump in the night? He’s the hero, helping the helpless (okay, between everything from St. Germain to “Forever Night,” that one isn’t so original, but still…)
FIREFLY doesn’t transcend cliches or invert them. It embraces them. It adores them. Oh, there’s touches here and there, flashes of the Whedon pull-the-rug-out-from-under-expectations. But the overall world in which they exist does very little to indicate original thought.
Me, I’m going to stick with it, partly because of Jewel, and partly because Whedon’s earned that through years of getting it so right on his two other series. But most viewers don’t have a personal attachment to one of the actresses, and furthermore, Friday evening can be a serious killer of genre shows unless they come out of the box fast. And the hard truth is that if it didn’t have Jewel and it wasn’t by Whedon, I’d don’t know that I’d ever tune in the series again.
PAD
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