Serenity

Timing can be everything. When Joss Whedon first brought the immortal Buffy into being, the world was not yet ready for the slayer – at least not as essayed by fembot Kristy Swanson at any rate. Fast-forward a couple of years and the noble comedy-horror failure becomes an ass-kicking blockbuster TV show. Serenity, Mr. Whedon’s fabulous new film plays out the same scenario in reverse – a failed televisual venture (Firefly) made luminous by transference to the superior medium of the big screen.
Buffy fans will have much cause for cheer. There is a good deal of happy overlap here – mock heroic dialogue worthy of Alexander Pope with a snarky po-mo spin, the right on post-feminist ogling of empowering female biomechanics, hell, Serenity even has a Dawn and a Willow. It’s Buffy in space. What’s not to like?
Those feeling affronted by Mr. Lucas’ most recent space opera instalment should be even happier than Mr. Whedon’s hardcore fans. Serenity is all that Star Wars ought to be but isn’t – a wild, character-driven intergalactic Western. As a ragtag outlaw crew on the spluttering ship Serenity attempt to outmanoeuvre hordes of cannibalistic Reavers (the living dead with axes) and the universal clout of the Alliance (a malevolent incarnation of the Federation), Whedon crafts a remarkable work of pure pop culture. The dialogue brilliantly intermarries Buffy speak, swearing in Mandarin and frontier-isms (“Had nothing ‘tween my nethers this past year ain’t run on batteries”) while the plot curtseys before The Searchers and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance with that age-old genre problem – can an out of control teenage killing machine find a place in the world once the West has been won?
The eccentric shifts in tone are handled beautifully, but Serenity still flies as a bombastic shoot-‘em-up sci-fi for those with less appreciation of humour or cleverness. And yes, there are scenes with chicks getting medieval on their enemies. It’s all good.