Well, glad you asked, redfacesmiley. It’s an interesting question, and I think with a few simple (though maybe not easy) changes, this season could’ve been the best one yet.
Here you go, five ways in which I would’ve changed Season 8:
(Needless to say, you shouldn’t read this if you love Season 8, because it’ll probably just piss you off)
Thanks for the heads up on the solitaire game, everyone, and especially to amooseintheimpala for the screencap. I’ve amended the original post accordingly.
Aaaand… to conclude my post-8x07 meta-spam:
I take back some of my earlier inhibitions about season 8. The season’s not perfect, the writing is not perfect, but I can see something there I really, really appreciate:
The focus on the importance of respecting other people’s agency.
It’s there in Dean’s struggle to accept Sam’s choices, it’s in Castiel’s little speech in 8x07, and I suppose it’s also a major point in the manipulation-plot.
Free Will all the way :)
I’ll give you that. One of the only things I liked about last night’s episode was the fact that Cas explicitly told Dean, “It’s not your job to save me.”
And yet… this message is a little hypocritical coming from Cas, isn’t it, seeing as he was the one to pull Dean’s ass out of Perdition. It WAS, at one point, Cas’s job to save Dean. Dean chose to go to Hell to save his brother, and Cas was the deus ex machina that negated the responsibility of that choice. The very foundation of Dean and Cas’s profound bond is built on one person negating the free will and self-agency of the other.
Dean will never be able to repay that favor back. He’ll always feel the scales are unbalanced. So maybe the reason he tried so hard to get Cas out of Purgatory — even despite Cas’s obvious reluctance to leave — was because, in gripping Cas tight and pulling his ass from Purgatory, Dean saw a way to even the scales. Thus in Purgatory it didn’t matter to Dean what Cas wanted or what he chose, no more than it mattered what Dean wanted or chose when Cas saved him from Hell. Dean was going to save him, because finally, finally he could.
But it’s too late for Dean to go back and even out all those ancient imbalances. For better or worse, Dean has taught Cas free will, and that means he can’t save Cas against his will any longer; Dean must accept that sometimes Cas will make choices he doesn’t like or agree with. It’s as Sam said in the premiere, free will isn’t just a thing that Dean gets to keep.
But Dean also needs to learn that there’s more than one way to save a life. Dean apparently still thinks the only way that counts is through physical action, by physically protecting and delivering someone, but “saving a life” can also be an emotional or spiritual action: Through forgiveness, and healing, and faith, we redeem each other. Through love, each of us are saved. And generally that’s the salvation that matters most of all, because the body is just a hunk of flesh, but the spirit, the will is what keeps that flesh moving.
I’m pretty sure Dean had learned this lesson last season, but I suppose Carver needed to erase the slate clean and start his story afresh.
I’ve often said that Season 7 convinced me of the canonicity of Dean/Cas, and to this day it boggles my mind that so many fans blame Sera Gamble for “ruining” the characters’ relationship. So I thought I’d step through my favorite season, episode by episode, and point out exactly why I’m so convinced their love is not only of the romantic sort, but also very, very canon.
Previously: The Born Again Identity, Part 1 (Death)
The Born Again Identity, Part 2
Last time I spoke about the Death stage of the Heroine’s Journey as it relates to Supernatural, in which Dean is finally stripped of every defense mechanism, brought to his lowest point through Sam’s illness, and, in discovering Emmanuel, “dies”.
But as Dream Theater would say, death is not the end. It’s only a transition.
The name of this episode is “The Born Again Identity” – a clever wordplay on The Bourne Identity, in which an amnesiac secret operative attempts to place together clues leading him back to his former life. In addition, evangelical Christians, like Emmanuel, like Roy LeGrange, often claim to be “born again” in their faith, referring to a mental transition, from faithless to saved.
This season, Cas resembles both cases. He is both the amnesiac rediscovering himself, and the faithless man stumbling into his own baptism, and crawling out blank, fresh, new.
But becoming “born again” isn’t as easy as reclaiming some memories, or in swimming back to shore. It’s hard, and it’s messy, and it feels like dying, because it is.
But at least we don’t have to go it alone.
I’ve often said that Season 7 convinced me of the canonicity of Dean/Cas, and to this day it boggles my mind that so many fans blame Sera Gamble for “ruining” the characters’ relationship. So I thought I’d step through my favorite season, episode by episode, and point out exactly why I’m so convinced their love is not only of the romantic sort, but also very, very canon.
Ah, filler. Tasty, tasty filler. Every season has it. Every season needs it. Not that filler episodes can’t be excellent or worth watching on their own – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched, say, “Criss Angel is a Douchebag” or “The Curious Case of Dean Winchester” – but filler doesn’t really serve to advance the plot in the same way as the rest of the season; its function is strictly for the audience’s sake. It develops character, offer new perspective on past events, and highlights heretofore unexplored relationships – and maybe, in the case of “Plucky Pennywhistle’s”, offer a little bonus foreshadowing.
The next three episodes could be classified as filler, although I think each one exists in this season for a very good reason; and while familiarity with their events isn’t strictly necessary to understanding the Leviathan storyline, they do shed some interesting perspective on Dean’s ongoing struggle to define his masculinity while reconciling his grief.
Originally I’d intended to tackle “Time After Time”, “The Slice Girls” and “Plucky Pennywhistle’s” all at once, but this episode really just got away from me, which is basically the story of my life. I swear, by the time we get to “Reading is Fundamental”, this meta series will be the size of the entire Internet. Ah well.
I’ve often said that Season 7 convinced me of the canonicity of Dean/Cas, and to this day it boggles my mind that so many fans blame Sera Gamble for “ruining” the characters’ relationship. So I thought I’d step through my favorite season, episode by episode, and point out exactly why I’m so convinced their love is not only of the romantic sort, but also very, very canon.
Missed Part 1 or 2? Read them here: Part 1 and Part 2.
The next trio of episodes mostly focus on Bobby and the boys, so the emphasis here isn’t as much on Dean’s grief explicitly as it is on the nature of father-child relationships. Still, there are a few moments worth digging into, and I’ll even go so far as to argue that the A plot (Bobby’s death) is meant to be a mirror for the C plot (Dean’s grief).
But be forewarned: We’re getting into some Serious Sads territory here. Keep a tissue handy, and remember, as Rufus says, the only way out is through.
That this post needs a disclaimer is probably not a good sign, but here it is, anyway: I love TFW. Like, very much. Okay? Okay.
BUT: one problem. Not how they love each other, not what they would or wouldn’t do for each other, but how TPTB structures their team dynamic. I get that they love one another to an insane degree; this isn’t about that. I want to talk about how they talk about one another. I want to talk about TFW’s gaze. More specifically, I want to talk about how they talk about Dean. Or, rather, how they don’t.WARNING:
This is a core meltdown with some pie charts and flames on the side of my face.
Fantastic meta and analysis.
It makes me think that the reason nobody on Team Free Will outwardly worries about Dean is because he expends so much effort, all his effort really, deflecting everyone’s focus toward Sam. It’s what caretakers do. They’re masters of emotional deflection, even as they’re the grease that keeps the wheel spinning. You saw this a lot in Season 3 — whenever the conversation seemed like it might naturally turn to how Dean felt about going to Hell, he’d somehow twist it before it could get there so that it became all about Sam: how his brother was acting out-of-character, or how he needed to learn how to live without Dean, etc. Sam was the only one who forced the issue, but even he could be deflected if Dean really wanted to.
This behavior culminates in one of my favorite scenes in the series — Sam and Dean singing “Wanted Dead or Alive” in the Impala. Dean shrieks so endearingly off-key that Sam is charmed into singing along, but as soon as Sam starts singing, Dean stops — and Sam doesn’t notice.
That one scene sums up their entire relationship throughout the series — Dean is so concerned with making Sam’s happiness that he comforts his brother about his own impending death, instead of worrying about himself, which, c’mon, is pretty fucked up — and it tells you so much about why they break apart when Dean comes back from Hell, because suddenly, Sam doesn’t need Dean to take care of him, and Dean has a mission other than taking care of Sam, and neither one of them know how to deal with that.
I think it really comes down to this: Dean doesn’t worry about himself, because he never learned how. Sam was the one allowed to have feelings, who was forced to be the emotional proxy for both John and Dean — Dean was the soldier; Sam was the cause. That Dean was even able to eventually admit to Sam, “I’m scared and I don’t want to go to Hell”, was such a huge emotional leap for him that nothing was ever the same afterward.
Still, Dean has a long standing tradition of ignoring his own feelings, and because he ignores his feelings, that inherently leads everyone around him to ignore his feelings too. They follow his lead. If someone tells you enough times that “how I feel is irrelevant”, eventually you’re just going to give in and believe it.
pandasintheimpala Asks:
flutiebear Said:
Pt. 2: And that means the end verse could still happen since Dean didn’t slay Lucifer. Sorry for the two asks! Character limits suck.
Brilliant, of course. I wish I’d thought of it first.
Like many fans, I struggle with “Swan Song”. In a purely logical sense, I know it’s the only way that episode could have gone down — after all, the first five seasons were Sam’s Hero’s Journey; so it needed to be him who made the final choice; it needed to be his agency and his sacrifice in order to close the narrative loop. Sam was the initial focus, the grounding point for the story. He needed to be the one to end it.
And yet, by the second season Supernatural had already evolved into something more than just a simple Hero’s Journey, and the narrative focus shifted in a large part to Dean, who I think is the more flawed and thus more compelling character of the two. And when Dean started the Apocalypse, well, it’s just as you said — narrative consistency demands that the man who starts it, ends it.
End!verse, IMO, is the only way this show can end satisfyingly — and not because it’s heartwrenching and whatever, but because that’s the universe in which Dean has the final agency and control; he’s the one with the power to end the apocalypse he started, for better or worse. It’s the only way to close the open narrative loop.
Thematically it fits too: This is and always has been a story about the conflict between destiny and free will, and IMO, the most appropriate way to explore that would be to have Lucifer’s prophecy come true, and see what Team Free Will does as a result.
Edlund and Carver and Michaels and whoever else can deny it all they want, but End!verse is definitely what we are hurtling towards. Anything else would be an utter waste of one of the best set-ups in television since Babylon 5.
Today’s topic is ostensibly “Your Least Favorite Season”, but seeing as how I like to stay positive on this blog, I’m going to cheat a bit and talk about why each of the seasons are my favorite, in one way or another. (Though since I’ve already spilled enough words on Season 7, which is in fact my favorite season, I’ll skip it in today’s meta.)
In this first part, I’ll explore why I love Seasons 1-3. (Seasons 4-6 will have to wait until later today, after work next week, on Meta Monday, sorry):
Season 1: Favorite Monsters
Very early on, Supernatural established itself as a different kind of horror show by pulling from some fantastic deep-end-of-the-pool mythology. Forget vampires and werewolves: This show served up wendigos, shtrigas, even old world gods. And when an episode did demand a more traditional monster – such as a grim reaper or a shapeshifter – you could be sure that the Supernatural incarnation would offer a subversion on the usual associated tropes. (Grim reapers, for example, are usually depicted as faceless and emotionless, while Supernatural’s Reapers not only have faces but personalities—as we saw in “Faith”, they can even hold grudges.)
What I love so much about Season 1 is that these new monsters weren’t made up out of thin air; shrtrigas, wendigos, even the Vanir are all lesser known creatures from real-world legends around the globe. And while the show’s presentation isn’t always accurate, it is at least respectful, in that it attempts to include and highlight legends that go beyond the typical Western European playset. Plus, it was a brilliant move on the writers’ part: For a supernaturally-themed show debuting during the height of the mid-2000s Twilight-inspired freakout, what better way to set itself apart from the pack?
What’s interesting is how the monsters contrast to the rest of the show, which in Season 1 is still fairly by-the-book. Many episodes feature famous urban legends and classic horror stories—what child hasn’t heard the one about Bloody Mary or the Hook Man? – and the character archetypes (the old black soothsayer; the family of inbred killers; the faith healer who believes he is the genuine article) are all rather well-trod tropes in the horror genre. Even the idea of two brothers chasing after an absent father’s shadow is a classic literary theme, showing up in Brothers Karamazov and East of Eden, for starters. That’s to say nothing of the writing, which is generally cheesy and overwrought save for certain standout episodes like “Faith” (fuck yeah Sera Gamble).
So in the end, I think it was the monsters – not to mention the charisma and acting quality of the two main leads – that made viewers take notice, giving the show the lifeblood it needed to make it to later seasons. And thank god it did.
This week, in honor of the Season 7 finale on Friday, I’ve decided to do a five-part meta about why I love flawed, beautiful, broken Season 7 so much.
Yesterday I made some predictions about the Season Finale. Today, I wrap up this week’s series with a few final thoughts on the season and the road that still lies ahead.
Previously: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four
***
In some ways, Season 7 has been a back-to-basics season—more akin to Seasons 2 and 3 than Season 6. Unlike the highly serialized narratives of the past few seasons, this season’s arc is more episodic, relying on one-off storylines and mini-arcs rather than season-long plot arcs. Yet it’s clear the season has a theme – Dean’s Descent – which is reflected in each episode, no matter how standalone. For the first time since Season 3, I feel like the mid-season one-off episodes are necessary and integral to the storyline, and with the possible exception of “Shut Up, Dr. Phil”, I don’t think there’s any truly ‘skippable’ episodes this year (as in, you could skip them and still get the full gist of the season’s plot).
As far as the dialogue goes, I think it’s as funny and charming as ever, and overall, I’ve rewatched the episodes of this season more than those of any other year except Season 3 (which is hardly a fair comparison, as that season has “Mystery Spot”, “Bad Day At Black Rock” and “Ghostfacers”). There’s something so delightful in the banter between Frank and Dean in “Slash Fiction”, or Garth’s casual confidence in “Party On, Garth”, or the way Sister Thibideaux bilks thinly-veiled racists out of their cash in “The Mentalists”. I love the better kind of God Castiel tries to become in “Meet The New Boss”, and the casually vile, utterly corporate nature of the Leviathan, and how everyone this season, from Maggie Stark to Krissy, is motivated by love and dependency in equal measure. (And not for nothing, but have you noticed how many queer characters there are this season? They’re everywhere, and they’re not being played for laughs, either.) All of it’s fantastic.
But what I love about Season 7 most, though, is that it continues the tradition begun in Season 2 and introduces genuinely lovable and interesting minor characters (many of the fandom’s favorite minors – Jo, Ellen, Ash, Ava; even love-to-hate ‘ems like Henrickson and Gordon—debuted in Season 2). Seasons 5 and 6 were an utter bloodbath for recurring minors, and this season, the writers have finally begun to repopulate the nest. We’ve been offered new characters to fall in love with— Frank Devereaux, Garth, Charlie, Krissy, Kevin, even Jody Mills (although technically she first appears in Season 5)—and man, somehow, some way, I love them all. (Hell, I even love the villains — Dick Roman is the best.)
That the writers can still get me so attached to minor characters five seasons after killing off Ava Wilson and Ronald Resnick speaks to the real reason I think most of us love this show so much – Supernatural isn’t just a story about brothers; it’s about the lives they influence along the way.
More Meta Behind The Break:
vhanstiel Asks:
flutiebear Said:
Thanks so much! It’s been a blast to write, and I’m glad I finally have the chance to articulate why I love Season 7 (and why it frustrates me so much when fans accuse it of poor or shoddy writing).
If you’re liking this series, check out the other SPN-themed meta I’ve written. And my Supernatural-only blog, deans-obssession-with-angel-lips, might be up your alley too. Cheers!
This week, in honor of the Season 7 finale on Friday, I’ve decided to do a five-part meta about why I love flawed, beautiful, broken Season 7 so much.
Yesterday I explained how Season 7 was basically one long Descent/Eye of the Storm stage of the Heroine’s Journey for Dean Winchester, in which all of his weapons and resources were stripped away, one by one. Today: I look at the rest of the Heroine’s Journey stages and speculate on what they could mean for the season finale—and Season 8.
Previously: Part One, Part Two, Part Three
***
The Descent stage might be bad, but what comes next is lethal: Once the protagonist has been stripped of all her weapons, the next stage in The Heroine’s Journey is Death. As I wrote last week:
In the Death stage, everything goes to hell at once. The Heroine is caught off guard when the villain comes back, and this time, the Heroine doesn’t have any of her weapons left to fight. The villain, intent on the Heroine’s destruction, and the Heroine believes there’s nothing she can do to stop it. She is utterly vulnerable. Everything is lost. She dies: She failed at her journey and accepts defeat.
Despite his shiny new leather coat (which serves as a visual metaphor for death and rebirth), I don’t think we’ve really seen Dean hit rock bottom yet. An entire season of loss, alcoholism, and grief haven’t really caught up to him so far – he’s just sort of pretending it didn’t happen at this point—and in fact, with most of the Leviathan Sword completed, he and Sam seem in good shape to take on Dick Roman.
That of course will be rectified in the finale. Everything will go to hell at once. For whatever reason, the sword won’t work, and all of Dean’s weapons that were stripped from him in the Descent stage will be shown to be useless once more. You’ll see Cas refuse to fight. Bobby will go vengeful spirit. Sam will somehow be neutralized and taken out of the fight (if the writers really want to be mean about it, they’d combine those last two; it’s what I would do). The Impala will come back, only to be destroyed. Frank will re-emerge, but he’ll be working for the Leviathan, and so on. You get the drill. Shit will hit the fan, and a point will come where it looks like there’s no way for Dean to win.
Spoilery Season 7 Goodness – And A Whole Lotta Speculation — Behind The Break:
Lord above, someone stop me. These just keep getting longer and longer. I think I have a problem.
This week, in honor of the Season 7 finale on Friday, I’ve decided to do a five-part meta about why I love flawed, beautiful, broken Season 7 so much.
Previously: Part One and Part Two
***
The next two stages of the Heroine’s Journey are The Descent and Eye of the Storm. As I wrote last week, in the Descent stage:
Now that the Heroine has made her life-changing decision, she must face the music and realize things actually must change. This is a stage about facing her fears and obstacles, like gates that must be opened. At first, the Heroine will try to use the weapons and tools she brought along to confront them, but they won’t work. Thus they are stripped away from her. The only way she gets past these obstacles is by finding the inner strength within to confront them.
Meanwhile, in the Eye of the Storm phase:
After facing her fears – maybe even the Big Baddie itself– the Heroine has a moment to catch her breath and come to grips with what has just occurred. She realizes that hey, actually, when push came to shove, she didn’t do half-bad. She starts to understand that she’s stronger than she thinks, better, smarter, more competent. She thinks maybe the hard part is finally over.
These two stages may be repeated over and over as needed, and basically, I think that Dean has spent most of Season 7 pingponging between the two, caught in a state of freefall as he’s stripped of the few remaining weapons and resources he has left.
Spoilery Season 7 Goodness – And A Whole Lotta Meta — Behind The Break:
This week, in honor of the Season 7 finale on Friday, I’ve decided to do a five-part meta about why I love flawed, beautiful, broken Season 7 so much. Yesterday I introduced the idea of the descent story and the Heroine’s Journey, which I think is being used as a storytelling blueprint for Supernatural seasons 6 and 7. Today I’m going to elaborate a little further on exactly how, using Dean’s story arc as an example.
ETA: I know this meta series is supposed to be a defense of Season 7, but today I spend a fair bit of time on Season 6 — a necessary side-trip to make the rest of the week make sense. Sorry for the bait and switch, but hopefully you’ll bear with me for a bit longer.
Previously: Part One
***
The finale of Season 5, “Swan Song”, left the writers of Supernatural in a bit of a bind. With the apocalypse averted and all external foes either vanquished or sealed away, what was left as a source of conflict for our characters? Who or what could Team Free Will struggle against? Moreover, what could possibly present a challenge worthy of our protagonists, who could now smite demons and archangels as easily as wendigos or vengeful spirits?
Even in the most open-ended of fictional universes, this wouldn’t be an easy question to answer, and personally I think the writers opted for the best solution available: That is, when all external conflicts have been neutralized, any new conflicts must come from within. And as uncomfortable as it is to see Sam, Dean and Cas turn on each other and become their own worst enemies, it was really the only choice that would’ve made any sense whatsoever, because Team Free Will was simply too powerful to be believably threatened by any outside force.
So how do you tell this story?
Enter the Heroine’s Journey, an archetypical storytelling pattern well-suited for characters who need to battle inner demons instead of outer ones. The writers took this blueprint and applied it to Team Free Will, each in their own ways. Not all initiate their Journeys at the same point nor end at the same time, but each of the three main characters – Sam, Dean and Cas – have embarked on a descent story, to come back down the mountain, so to speak, towards a place of rest and inner peace.
Previously: Favorite Character: Dean Winchester Is A Douchebag
Least Favorite Character: John Winchester
I’ve struggled with this week’s challenge, because as vile as I find many of the characters – Zachariah, Alastair, Meg, Lilith, Samuel Campbell – that, of course, is the point: We’re not supposed to like villains. As sources of conflict, they’re supposed to repulse and disgust, and from a writer’s perspective, I can appreciate Supernatural’s antagonists for doing their job, and doing it well.
The one exception is John Winchester, for whom later seasons go through great pains to make sympathetic. Whether or not it works varies by viewer, I expect, but as time wears on, and my own complicated relationship to my parents evolves, I find myself making fewer and fewer excuses for the man. I appreciate his role as an antagonist, to be sure, but he’s not a villain, not like the others; and honestly, if he were real and I were ever to meet him, I think I’d kick him right in the nuts.
Let me be clear: I don’t think John Winchester is a bad man—or, rather, I don’t think he starts off that way. But then again, demons never do. At one point, every scion of Hell was human, and that’s what makes their fall from grace so sad. And if John Winchester fell further than most men, it was only because he became so obsessed with being good at falling that he forgot to learn how to land.
Major spoilers for Season 1-2 Below, Minor for Seasons 3-6:
