The first season of “Dollhouse” never seemed to live up to its full potential. Part of that was the network interference that has been discussed on several occasions, but part of it was also the decision to spend much of the first season setting up the notion of Echo as something special.
Joss Whedon had some very interesting ideas for what to do with “Dollhouse”. There were several layers at work in the conceptual basis of the show, and it was mostly a meditation on identity and free will. The Dolls were a metaphor for those willingly handing over their lives to the corporate programming that tries to tell us who we want to be. On a fundamental level, the clients were the rich and entitled, and the Dolls were molded into whatever kind of plaything the clients wanted them to be. And of course, there was little or no concern for the individual that the Doll had been before the process began.
I’ve said before that this could be seen, very loosely, as a commentary on the entertainment industry. Considering that the genesis of the series was a conversation between Joss Whedon and Eliza Dushku in the days leading up to the writers’ strike of 2008, during a period when the actors’ guild was also in the midst of contentious talks, it’s not surprising that this undercurrent was there from the very beginning.
After all, the Dolls are like actors. Actors are individuals that play the roles they are paid to play. But very often, the individual wants and desires of the actors are dismissed by those who want the actors to be defined and stereotyped by their roles. Eliza in particular had been branded the sexual bad girl, for example, and even many of her fans had little desire to see her portray anything else. In terms of the analogy, Eliza is Echo, trying to break out of the mold of expectation and display her individuality on her own terms.
These themes ultimately play out in an ever more complicated fashion, as questions of the truth of consciousness meld with the questions of identity. How connected is the human mind to the human body, and what happens to the value of a human life when the mind can be preserved, nearly intact, independent of the flesh? And when the ability to overwrite the control over a person’s body becomes available, how long would it take for that to lead to anarchy?
All great fodder for a science fiction series, and sure enough, the foundation for many of the elements that appeared in the unaired finale for the first season, “Epitaph One”. It was the promise of those concepts that made fans so eager to see the second season. But there were also some fundamental issues that lingered.
The show itself was often promoted based on Eliza’s sexuality, and as other characters entered the fold, there were huge questions of consent. Apparently Whedon had originally intended to explore these sexual aspects in more depth, but the network balked. Whether or not that would have mitigated some of the seemingly discordant examples of fan service in the first season is hard to say; I personally suspect that the audience would have been confronted with a more overt debate over consent if Whedon would have had his way.
Also, the first season was weakened by the fact that the only persistent characters in the story, the Dollhouse administrative personnel, were portrayed in a somewhat positive light. The audience was being told that we were supposed to like people that were prostituting the Dolls to dangerous and even psychotic clients. While it would eventually become clear that this particular Dollhouse was run by characters capable of redemption, the spin placed on those characters convinced many that Whedon was trying to justify or even advocate the treatment of the Dolls.
The second season tried to address these issues, and for the most part, it was successful. In the first season, Echo was mostly under the firm control of the Dollhouse; in the second season, Echo began to develop a composite personality, based on the unexpected residual effect of each and every imprint. Even better, Echo’s core personality was more and more similar to her original Caroline personality, exploring the notion that identity can be overwritten by societal programming, but never completely lost.
Echo’s struggle for control over her own destiny throughout the second season was in perfect counterpoint to the fans’ knowledge, from “Epitaph One”, that her campaign to bring down Rossum (the corporation behind the Dollhouse technology) was going to end in the downfall of modern civilization. Echo even became aware, in the brilliant episode “The Attic”, that this future apocalypse was all but certain. So one of the beautiful ironies of the second season was that interplay between Echo’s growing sense of free will and the destined downfall of the modern world.
Because it was very clear from the start of the second season that the renewal was a gift, and that the season was a chance to tell the “Dollhouse” story in a much condensed format, little time was wasted. The plot unfolded at a blistering pace, and while some plot and character elements simply couldn’t be resolved, the majority of the main arcs were handled with unusual deftness. It was, until the last few episodes, a thrilling example of just what a Whedon writing staff is capable of producing.
That is, until the writers introduced one plot twist that, in the balance, dramatically hurt both the season and the series as a whole. Close to the end, it was revealed that Boyd, Echo’s longtime handler and one of her closest allies, was in fact the secret mastermind behind Rossum. His reason for fostering Echo’s development of a self-directed composite personality? To prove that Caroline’s body, with some super-special immunity to the mind-wipe technology, would be able to provide Rossum and selected individuals with a means to survive the impending societal collapse.
Fans immediately recognized what the writers later admitted: that the Boyd reveal was never part of the original concept for the series, and so of course it didn’t track with his choices and actions in the first season. But even more frustrating, the reason for Caroline’s importance in the story (and therefore Echo’s importance) made no sense when the character arcs for Victor and Sierra were taken into account.
For most of the series, it was slowly hinted that the mind-wipe technology was flawed, and that the original personality was still resident underneath the imprinted personalities. The net effect was the eventual development of a composite personality that took the fundamentals of the original person, the imprinted abilities and knowledge, and combined them. Echo was the most developed, since she was being helped along by various means, but Victor and Sierra were also showing the same kind of development. Because they loved each other, there were connections made that the imprinting could not overcome.
By the logic of “The Hollow Men”, that never should have happened. Only Caroline/Echo should have had the innate ability to overcome the programming and develop an immunity to the mind-wipe technology. And while that was ultimately the way the other characters were treated in the series finale, “Epitaph Two”, it just wasn’t a satisfying way to resolve the development of Echo, Victor, and Sierra over the course of the series.
The second season of “Dollhouse” earned a Critical Myth rating of 7.8, well above average and a solid improvement over the first season (7.3). “Dollhouse” was also one of only two shows to improve over the previous season. This reflects how well the writers managed to condense the mythology of the series into essentially twelve episodes. Barring a few last-minute reveals that didn’t quite add up, thus damaging the cohesive whole, the season successfully placed the focus on the larger philosophical concepts that Whedon originally wanted to explore.









