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This started off as a reply to
redredshoes but every time I tried to post it, I was told her journal didn’t exist (yeah, right, so how come I can see it on my flist, you stupid computer?), and after a couple of tries the whole thing got eaten. So here, for your delectation and delight, is my entirely revised, nay entirely rewritten take on why ME was right to have Spike try to rape Buffy rather than try to turn her in Seeing Red.
The near-rape scene in SR is (understandably) one of the most contentious moments in the Buffyverse. I personally put off watching the episode until I’d seen almost everything else, because I hated the thought of it. I didn’t want to see Buffy – Buffy, the wish-fulfilment champion of all women who’ve ever walked down a dark street and been afraid of the footsteps behind them, Buffy, the girl who broke a jock’s nose when he tried to date rape her – reduced to a helpless victim of male sexual violence. In the end, to my relief, it wasn’t nearly as bad as that. Buffy very quickly kicked Spike off her, before he could do anything more than make his intentions obvious, and I never got the impression that she was physically helpless even before she got her act together and flung him across the room. Oddly enough (oddly given how many posts I’ve subsequently read saying the opposite) I was never troubled by Spike’s role in all this; my concerns were all centred around Buffy. This may be because I’ve never had any problem seeing S6 Spike as basically evil – yes, he’s making an effort to give up ‘the whole evil thing’, but he really is torn both ways. Right back in Bargaining I, when he’s babysitting Dawn and comes dangerously close to losing his temper because she’s trying to persuade him to leave, S6 Spike seems to be in constant tension between the changes induced by the chip and by his love for Buffy and his (un)natural desires and instincts. His love for Buffy inspires him to try to behave in a way she will accept, but he has no internal guide as to what that behaviour should be, and although there are some very touching things about his feelings for Buffy (counting the days; his desire for conversations, to be treated ‘like a man’) it is always a very selfish, self-centred love. He spends a lot of his time making life difficult for her (just before the social worker comes round in Gone, for instance, although he does change his tune and try to be helpful when he realises how serious the situation is), or during the infamous balcony scene in Dead Things. The dichotomy is summed up brilliantly in Once More With Feeling (which in general does a fabulous job of encapsulating character in tiny vignettes) when he sings ‘I hope she fries, I’m free if that bitch dies... I’d better help her out.’ The fascinating thing about S6 Spike is that both those impulses, the murderous and the loving, are genuinely part of his personality, and he’s quite different in S7 where the murderer has been eliminated. I started watching Buffy in S7 and I’ve never understood the argument that Spike is insufficiently changed by getting his soul. The difference in the way he relates to Buffy is dramatic – yes, there’s still the same obsessive love, but it’s coupled with a profound respect for her as a person and an incredible carefulness not to encroach on her, not to impose on her either physically or emotionally. All this is a long-winded way of saying that I have a hard time seeing the bathroom scene as an attempt by ME to make Spike less likeable, less sympathetic, in defiance of what we’ve seen of the character so far. On the contrary, Spike’s disastrous attempt at reconciliation has a remorseless logic, that derives from his character, his feelings for Buffy, their previous sexual relationship (twice she tells him ‘Stop!’ and he says ‘Make me,’ and she doesn’t), his desperation, her refusal to go public about their relationship, and Dawn’s misguided attempt to intervene that convinces him Buffy does still have feelings for him, if only he can unlock them.
But it’s not only that I think it’s entirely within character that Spike should become desperate enough to try to force himself on Buffy. I also think that the rape is a far better narrative dynamo, driving Spike’s extraordinary decision to get his soul back, than an attempt to turn Buffy would be. Objectively speaking, of course, trying to turn Buffy can be seen as an even worse crime than rape. Rape is traumatic but survivable; turning Buffy would have destroyed her completely, making her into someone who was the opposite of everything she had ever stood for, ever fought for. From this perspective, a failed attempt to turn Buffy would be an even better motivation for Spike to try to defeat the monster within him by getting his soul. Subjectively, however, rape is infinitely worse than being turned because the audience knows that rape is real whilst turning is just part of a fantasy. Many of the major characters have at some point been turned; none of them has been raped. Rape evokes a visceral horror that turning does not. In The Initiative the newly-chipped Spike tries to turn Willow. The attack is presented as a rape metaphor – he turns up the music so no-one will hear her scream and pins her onto the bed – and afterwards they talk about his failure to bite her in terms of sexual impotence, of failed rape, in a scene that is extremely funny. Yet it’s unthinkable that after the bathroom scene, Buffy might have joked with Xander about Spike’s failure to rape her in terms of a failure to turn her. Turning can serve as a metaphor for rape, but not vice versa, because rape is so much more horrible, so much worse than turning. Spike has to try to rape Buffy rather than turn her not because the character needs that motivation psychologically but because the audience does. There is no way back from a rape attempt – after that, Spike must change or die; but as we know from The Initiative there most certainly is a way back from an attempted turning. I think this difference in the audience’s response – the visceral horror invoked by a real violation, versus indifference or even titillation invoked by a fantasy violation – is what ME was trying to express, however clumsily, when they said that Spike’s crime had to be committed by the man, not the monster. It had to be real. (This is not to overlook the importance of Spike realising that he’s failed in his attempt to be a man, rather than failing in an attempt to be a monster). Ultimately, rape trumps turning because it’s *real*.
The near-rape scene in SR is (understandably) one of the most contentious moments in the Buffyverse. I personally put off watching the episode until I’d seen almost everything else, because I hated the thought of it. I didn’t want to see Buffy – Buffy, the wish-fulfilment champion of all women who’ve ever walked down a dark street and been afraid of the footsteps behind them, Buffy, the girl who broke a jock’s nose when he tried to date rape her – reduced to a helpless victim of male sexual violence. In the end, to my relief, it wasn’t nearly as bad as that. Buffy very quickly kicked Spike off her, before he could do anything more than make his intentions obvious, and I never got the impression that she was physically helpless even before she got her act together and flung him across the room. Oddly enough (oddly given how many posts I’ve subsequently read saying the opposite) I was never troubled by Spike’s role in all this; my concerns were all centred around Buffy. This may be because I’ve never had any problem seeing S6 Spike as basically evil – yes, he’s making an effort to give up ‘the whole evil thing’, but he really is torn both ways. Right back in Bargaining I, when he’s babysitting Dawn and comes dangerously close to losing his temper because she’s trying to persuade him to leave, S6 Spike seems to be in constant tension between the changes induced by the chip and by his love for Buffy and his (un)natural desires and instincts. His love for Buffy inspires him to try to behave in a way she will accept, but he has no internal guide as to what that behaviour should be, and although there are some very touching things about his feelings for Buffy (counting the days; his desire for conversations, to be treated ‘like a man’) it is always a very selfish, self-centred love. He spends a lot of his time making life difficult for her (just before the social worker comes round in Gone, for instance, although he does change his tune and try to be helpful when he realises how serious the situation is), or during the infamous balcony scene in Dead Things. The dichotomy is summed up brilliantly in Once More With Feeling (which in general does a fabulous job of encapsulating character in tiny vignettes) when he sings ‘I hope she fries, I’m free if that bitch dies... I’d better help her out.’ The fascinating thing about S6 Spike is that both those impulses, the murderous and the loving, are genuinely part of his personality, and he’s quite different in S7 where the murderer has been eliminated. I started watching Buffy in S7 and I’ve never understood the argument that Spike is insufficiently changed by getting his soul. The difference in the way he relates to Buffy is dramatic – yes, there’s still the same obsessive love, but it’s coupled with a profound respect for her as a person and an incredible carefulness not to encroach on her, not to impose on her either physically or emotionally. All this is a long-winded way of saying that I have a hard time seeing the bathroom scene as an attempt by ME to make Spike less likeable, less sympathetic, in defiance of what we’ve seen of the character so far. On the contrary, Spike’s disastrous attempt at reconciliation has a remorseless logic, that derives from his character, his feelings for Buffy, their previous sexual relationship (twice she tells him ‘Stop!’ and he says ‘Make me,’ and she doesn’t), his desperation, her refusal to go public about their relationship, and Dawn’s misguided attempt to intervene that convinces him Buffy does still have feelings for him, if only he can unlock them.
But it’s not only that I think it’s entirely within character that Spike should become desperate enough to try to force himself on Buffy. I also think that the rape is a far better narrative dynamo, driving Spike’s extraordinary decision to get his soul back, than an attempt to turn Buffy would be. Objectively speaking, of course, trying to turn Buffy can be seen as an even worse crime than rape. Rape is traumatic but survivable; turning Buffy would have destroyed her completely, making her into someone who was the opposite of everything she had ever stood for, ever fought for. From this perspective, a failed attempt to turn Buffy would be an even better motivation for Spike to try to defeat the monster within him by getting his soul. Subjectively, however, rape is infinitely worse than being turned because the audience knows that rape is real whilst turning is just part of a fantasy. Many of the major characters have at some point been turned; none of them has been raped. Rape evokes a visceral horror that turning does not. In The Initiative the newly-chipped Spike tries to turn Willow. The attack is presented as a rape metaphor – he turns up the music so no-one will hear her scream and pins her onto the bed – and afterwards they talk about his failure to bite her in terms of sexual impotence, of failed rape, in a scene that is extremely funny. Yet it’s unthinkable that after the bathroom scene, Buffy might have joked with Xander about Spike’s failure to rape her in terms of a failure to turn her. Turning can serve as a metaphor for rape, but not vice versa, because rape is so much more horrible, so much worse than turning. Spike has to try to rape Buffy rather than turn her not because the character needs that motivation psychologically but because the audience does. There is no way back from a rape attempt – after that, Spike must change or die; but as we know from The Initiative there most certainly is a way back from an attempted turning. I think this difference in the audience’s response – the visceral horror invoked by a real violation, versus indifference or even titillation invoked by a fantasy violation – is what ME was trying to express, however clumsily, when they said that Spike’s crime had to be committed by the man, not the monster. It had to be real. (This is not to overlook the importance of Spike realising that he’s failed in his attempt to be a man, rather than failing in an attempt to be a monster). Ultimately, rape trumps turning because it’s *real*.