parse white rooms, government conspiracies, the clash between science and the unexplained mystical ... but no Mulder and Scully? If you assumed we were talking about The X-Files at first, it's understandable—after all, on the surface, the fourth season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer seemed to abandon its fantasy roots and started to swerve squarely in the direction of bold-faced science fiction, much as X-Files did before it. Season four was even when (gasp) the Scooby gang went through a heretofore unimaginable split, and the writers of the series seemed to get embroiled in a subplot to nowhere (remember Riley and the Initiative?).
But, upon revisiting this season on DVD—which, in retrospect, fell just past the midpoint of Buffy's run—there's actually more depth than meets the eye. And no, we're not talking about Buffy's one-dimensional, seasonal love interest, Riley (Blucas).
Nor are we talking about the concept of a secret government operation, dubbed the Initiative, that's operating in cavernous subterranean labs deep below UC Sunnydale. Although the show's creator and writers sell the idea of the Initiative as a scientific counterpoint to the mysticism that powers the Slayer, it's still hard to buy the G-Man commando concept—especially since it's pretty much lost in the shuffle of the more momentous Buffyverse events to come in subsequent seasons.
What is telling are the stories about growing up, and growing wings—the things people do when they go off to college and evolve as adults for the first time. From the very first episode of the year, "The Freshman," to the last, "Restless," there are elements of self-discovery scattered throughout the season. For example, "The Freshman" is a witty, insightful portrayal of Buffy striking out on her own, at that awkward yet exuberant time as a newly minted collegian, when you realize you don't quite fit in. As a whole, the series gets more mature and sexier—with steamy liaisons between characters that pushed the limit of network censors.
Furthermore, season four saw tremendous evolution in the characters—evolution that was important in the scope of where, and how, the series was progressing in its overall mission. There was the great revitalization of Marsters' chip-inhibited vamp, Spike; the heartbreak between Willow (Hannigan) and Oz (Green); introduction of Amber Benson as Tara, Willow's lesbian love interest; the uncertainty of Buffy (Gellar) and Giles (Head); the new direction for Faith (Eliza Dushku).
Finally, this was the season of creative storytelling. From the switched-bodies two-parter ("This Year's Girl" and "Who Are You?") to the masterful silent epic "Hush" (written and directed by series maestro Joss Whedon) to the mystical confusion of "Restless" (also written, directed, and interpreted in audio commentary by Whedon) and the comedic relief of "A New Man" (Giles is turned into a demon), "Something Blue" (Willow's spell causes chaos) and "Where the Wild Things Are" (Buffy and Riley have passionate sex amid a rising evil), season four certainly has its share of standout moments.
The list of extras packed into this six-disc set seems never-ending, and it's not only because of so-called featurette documentaries. The seven audio commentaries alone help boost the set at least a full letter grade; it's surprisingly uncommon to find such a wealth of additional material in a TV set. There are also four scripts, for "Fear Itself," "Hush," "Who Are You?" and "Restless"; over 50 still images; five featurettes; and a longer documentary covering the whole of season four.
Deep inside the minds of the creators
Of the seven audio commentaries, there's only one that induces cringes: "Wild at Heart," which features Whedon, then-supervising producer Marti Noxon and Seth Green. Between the trio's ad-libbing, inane conversation about Willow's gayness and Oz's hairdo, and the constant, bleeding talkover among the three participants, well, 10 minutes into the commentary track and you'll be thankful for the fast-forward button (there is some interesting stuff later on, but fast-forward to at least the 20-minute mark to get to the analogies to sexuality, love and human relationships).
Whedon's solo commentaries on "Hush" and "Restless" offer insightful, technical and entertaining perspectives on the making of some of the series' finest, and not-so-finest, moments, respectively (though it's helpful to hear Whedon's intentions and goals with "Restless," knowing what his intentions were doesn't necessarily enhance this anticlimactic closer). Drier and less eloquent than Whedon's efforts are the commentaries by writers Doug Petrie (on "The Initiative" and "This Year's Girl") and Jane Espenson ("Superstar"). Petrie takes a more clinical approach to dissecting his episode, but admits to several things that the audience caught onto far earlier than the writers, apparently (that, with the Initiative storyline, the writers often, essentially, painted themselves into a corner). More entertaining is the interaction between director James A. Contner and writer David Fury, who do the commentary track for the big climax to the Initiative, "Primeval."
In addition to commentary tracks galore, there are a host of featurettes and one long documentary. Though generally well edited, and packed with soundbites from a variety of Buffy participants, all of these bits lack identifying tags to explain the context of the interviews. For example, we have no way of knowing if the interviews are from old stock B-roll, an electronic press kit or material originally intended for past video releases. The copyright date at the end of each bit was 2001, which makes any and all of the above plausible, and even some of the commentaries appear to have been done well before the series' end. The lack of a dateline was distracting—because it was impossible to place the perspective of the actors/writers/creative staff at the time of the interview.
That complaint aside, the season four overview is terrific, running 36 minutes; through interviews with writers, producers, directors, actors and more, it touches on a slew of episodes, in sequential order. For more detail on a spectrum of specific areas, there are the five featurettes, each ranging in length from five to 13 minutes: "Hush" (in which Whedon duplicates some of what he says elsewhere about the episode where silence reigns for more than half the show), "Spike Me" (a great profile of vamping vamp Spike), "Oz Revelations: A Full Moon" (getting deeper into the mind of Oz), "Buffy: Inside the Music" (with composer Christophe Beck) and "The Sets of Sunnydale" (focusing on the new sets for season four).
One more (minor) gripe about this DVD set: the special features, including the featurettes mentioned above, are inadequately highlighted. These features are literally buried, with no documentation on the discs or the leaflet included so you know where to find what. While it makes for a treasure hunt of sorts the first time around, the second time, the lack of an index is frustrating, at best.
