13 6 / 2013
Obviously Doctor Who has brought me to tears time and time again
And let’s not even talk about LOST
But I’ve never been as emotionally wrecked by an episode of television on a real-life level like I was by The Body.
I was curled up on the couch, all horrible gasping choking crying sounds. But not because of fictional characters, not really. Because it wasn’t about the death, it was about the negative space around it. The reactions. The people still living. And those reactions: putting your fist through a wall, socially inappropriate outbursts, needing to see to believe, crying about what to wear to the morgue. Those could be anyone’s. That was what was so real about this episode. There was no soundtrack. No relief. It wasn’t fantasy, it was life left over. It didn’t offer any escape from that because there isn’t any escape from death. There are sisters to grieve with and father-figures to fill out the paperwork and friends to bring back too much food from the vending machines because they panicked, but there is no escape from it.
Good job, Joss Whedon. I’m always impressed, but this time I was blown away.