 |
| "I'm not in love, no, no...." |
I don't know which executive at Fox TV
thought it would be a good idea to have George Lucas step in as
show-runner for the Sleepy Hollow Season 3 finale, but that
genius needs to be shit-canned, stat.
That's what happened, right? I mean,
there's no way the current show-runner and writing staff, all
of them witnesses to and survivors of Lucas' reprehensible disregard
for canon in the Star Wars films, could possibly have
taken such a beloved story as that of Sleepy Hollow, such
fantastic characters, such a tremendous premise with such promise,
and blown it to hell.
No one who cares about their own story
could possibly treat it with such callous disregard, no one who
respects their responsibility as story-teller would insult their
audience so shamelessly, treat their own canon so ignominiously.
What's that you say? George Lucas was
in Bali when this was produced?
Oh. Oh, I see.
I truly admire the Sleepy Hollow
writers, and I don't want to blame them for the destruction of
my favorite show. After all, they wrote my favorite show, and
at least two of the original writing staff who gave us the awesome
Season 1 are still around. I do have the vaguest inkling of how hard
their job is. I want to acknowledge and express empathy for the
insane workload they carry, the quantity and quality of factors they
have to balance, the business that intrudes on their art in the form
of network executives, budget constraints, actors needs, demands or
conflicts, deadlines, weather, or some combination of all of the
above plus more factors I can't even name.
But at the end of the day, it's their
names on the scripts, as writers and producers, which means the words
coming out of actors' mouths, the actions inhabited on screen, they
own.
Sleepy Hollow began with one of
the most diverse casts, in leading roles, on television. The
characters played by people of color were smart, funny, complex,
vulnerable, imperfect and delightful (as were the characters played
by white actors)—we couldn't get enough of them. The writing was
great, and the actors were fantastic; together, they easily seduced
us into investing in their characters' journeys. With their leading
lady in every way the equal if not better of her (white) male
counterpart, the writers created a relationship which demanded
we couldn't have one without the other (see, for example, this video)
and created in our hearts the absolute refusal, or wish, to
entertain the idea.
In Grace Abigail Mills, the show
further gave us a heroine whom strong modern women could claim,
adore, and cheer for, someone with whom we could, or at least wanted
to, identify. While the vast majority of us may never be as
heart-stoppingly beautiful as Nicole Beharie, we still found
something of ourselves in her powerful, thoughtful, independent,
brave, faithful, determined, loving, spiritual self. And Crane, her
soul mate, saw her for who she really was--the very definition
of respect--and loved her. The strong warrior woman saves the day AND
wins the heart of the brave, funny, smart, gorgeous hero! Take that
Tolkien! Huzzah!
No show has touched me, captured my
imagination and my heart, as Sleepy Hollow did. And no matter
how bad things got, I continued watching, always hoping for the best,
and always trusting that the writers could, and would, ultimately do
right by the characters and mythology they created. Did the show
deserve such loyalty & devotion? Yes and no. Sleepy Hollow
has been wildly inconsistent over the last two seasons, in terms of
story quality, character and relationship development; even its
unique twistory and ridiculous mythologies have sometimes suffered.
It rarely speaks to social matters of the day, and in its second
season it sidelined characters played by actors of color for a really
lousy, lily-white story-line. Before its third season, the show
inexplicably got rid of one of the audience's favorite original
characters, also played by an actor of color, a loss the fans still
grieve.
Yet in its own quiet way, vis-a-vis
racism and sexism, Sleepy Hollow started out quite radical,
and still had the potential to fulfill a beautiful vision. It earned
my trust, faith, and love through that vision, and through the
telling of a great story about an unlikely friendship and love
triumphing against impossible odds. Amidst a goofy, fun horror show,
it gave us a romance for the ages. And the back-end of Season 3 has actually been quite good.
And then the Season 3 finale happened.
First came the
shock and horror, then the anger, and now the grief. Aching,
overwhelming grief. I'm a long way from acceptance, and I fear I
shall circle back to anger for a long, long time. I'd like to
explain why.
I'm not angry
because I'm a shipper who didn't get what she wanted. I'm angry
because the canon makes it abundantly clear that Abbie and Ichabod
are profoundly in love, and their not being able to express that love
verbally and physically makes no sense.
I'm not angry
because I think my pet story deserved to be told. I'm angry because
the story we have been told thus far was ignored wholesale.
I'm not angry that
a black actress was treated so badly by producers and network that
she felt she had to quit, because I don't know that to be true. If
it is true, then yes, that makes me really, really angry. But I am
definitely angry that the character she co-created has been treated like
she's disposable because that not only insults the actress' insane
talent and hard work, but the story she helped tell and the
show she anchored, ultimately destroying something I truly loved.
I understand that Nicole Beharie wanted
to leave the show. I also understand that we may never know what
really happened. Did she really want to leave and, if so, why? Or
did the producers want her to leave, and, if so, why? Legions of
lawyers will keep the answers to these questions from us, likely
forever. This hasn't stopped rampant speculation and fury all over
the ninnanet, and I'll admit that, internally at least, my
speculation-meter is off the chart.
But out of respect for all concerned,
let's deal with the facts on the face. Ms. Beharie was going to
leave the show. What, then, to do with the character she co-created,
Abigail Mills? The writers and producers' answer to this question,
apparently, was to kill her off in a frankly lame,
not-particularly-explicable way, planting the seed that a new Witness
can take her place next season.
To
which I respond, as respectfully as possible, what are you
smoking?
There
is no more show without Abigail Mills, not
because we fans say so, but
because the writers did!
They created this indelible, essential character, and maintained,
for three seasons, the standing mythology that once found, the
Witnesses cannot be separated, that where one goes the other goes,
that it is not the fate of one Witness to bury the other, that they
will win or fall together.
Upon learning of Nicole Beharie's
desire to leave the show, the writers, producers and network needed
to show Abbie Mills, the fans, the actor, the other actors, the crew,
the audience, and above all else, the story
of Sleepy Hollow the respect and dignity deserved by announcing early
on that it was the show's final season, and then making that final
season AWESOME. They should have spent as much time, energy and
creative juice as possible on the reason people tune in: Abbie and Crane.
And
above all else, they needed to allow their leads, who have had
possibly the best chemistry on television in the history of the box,
to finally profess and consummate their characters' love, a love as
passionate and canonical and undeniable as any written. Not because
it's mean to bait the shippers, but because it is true.
We—the audience, the fans--would have
wept to lose such awesomeness, we'd have gnashed our teeth, we'd have
begged for more, but we would have been, on some level, satisfied
with a great story concluded well. And we would have felt respected,
we could have grieved in peace knowing that it was better to have
loved and lost than never to have loved at all, because we would know
that our love, for the show, was reciprocated.
Instead, the show
seems to have clumsily, accidentally committed suicide, taking much
of its audience, reputation and legacy along with it, whilst breaking
fans' hearts in a manner most cruel and unnecessary. The show may be
on life support for another year or more, but for all intents and
purposes, it's dead. And the worst part is, its producers don't even
know it.
I'm sick of people saying “it's the
writers' creation; they have license to do whatever they want.” I
am a writer myself, and profoundly respect artistic autonomy. But
story-telling doesn't consist just of teller and story; without
an audience, the story-teller is unemployed.
This is why writers don't have license
to do whatever they want. Regardless of the form it takes, story is
sacred, the role of bard/story-teller one of profound responsibility
in all human societies, and television is the primary story-telling
medium of contemporary society. Stories have long been equated with
magic because they are incredibly powerful and central to our
understanding of ourselves as human beings. A story's life and worth
stems from an inviolable trust between listener and bard. That trust
requires many things of story-tellers, chief among them that a) you
don't betray your own story, b) you don't disrespect your characters
by having them speak and act in ways completely inconsistent with
their history, and c) you don't lie to your audience by foreshadowing
something that will never happen. (Also you don't write stupid things
like “a 30-year-old perfectly healthy, brilliant, beloved woman
with purpose has fulfilled her destiny and therefore should die”).
With the Season 3 finale, the Sleepy
Hollow bards' committed all of these story-telling crimes, and
more, irrevocably shattering my faith and trust in them.
I never wanted Sleepy Hollow to
end. Never would I advocate its end. I still don't. But I cannot
fathom how it can go on, nor why I would want to watch it if it does.
I would need to trust the writers again, and I don't.
Sleepy Hollow required only two
things to survive, but it required them absolutely: Ichabod Crane and
Abigail Mills. They are the heart and soul of the show. They are
the reason people watch. Not for Witness Number One and Witness
Number Two, whoever they might be this season. Not for their
adventures, which are often idiotic. Not for the special effects,
lighting, make-up and costuming, which are frequently brilliant. Not
for the usually marvelous supporting actors and guest stars. Not for
the monsters who range from okay to amazing, not even for Headless,
though he is pretty darned key. Not for the best writing in the
history of television, which we have not always gotten, although
some of it has been awfully good.
No. We've tuned in, faithfully, for
three years, for those two characters, the premise which
brought them together, and the promise of two devoted friends falling
in love. And now that is gone.
Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow, and the
entire fandom deserved better.
**********************************
My wholly unsolicited suggestions for
Sleepy Hollow's producers:
*Give Tom Mison a cooking show in
character as Ichabod Crane. You could call it Hungry Hollow,
or Sleepy Snacks. Have Headless come on as a guest cook
sometimes, using his broadaxe to chop/sear simultaneously.
Seriously, you have a gold mine here.
*Do a spin-off with Lyndie Greenwood,
Orlando Jones, Zach Appelman and Jessica Camacho. I don't care what
it's called or what it's about.
*Animate the show and let Nicole
literally phone in Abbie's part.
*Bring Nicole Beharie back as the
showrunner and see what she does with the narrative.
*Let Tom out of his contract so he can
go conquer film and theatre just as he's conquered the little box/our
hearts.
*Have Crane ally himself with Orion in
the first episode of Season 4, promising to help him kill Headless if
Orion will help get Abbie back from the afterlife. Then have Orion
fall so in love with Abbie he gladly repents and throws himself on
the mercy of heaven's court, if only she can have his wings and
eternal life, and return to her fellow Witness. Oh, and, yes: angels
can have sex.
