Dollhouse

Tonight marks the season 2 premier of Joss Whedon's Dollhouse.

Is that good?

I hope so. I'm a big Whedon fan, actually. Love him or hate him, the man is a writer's writer, from a long line of TV Whedons, who blazed trails all up and down the dial for many a moon. For me, Buffy stands in a class by itself for both the embracing and defying of TV convention before it became, not only fashionable, but a downright prerequisite for any self-respecting new show to do so.

Back in season two, when it was rare, if not completely unheard of, to callously kill off a main character for keeps without warning or some 'it-was-all-a-dream/misunderstanding/insert your muggufin here' weaseling out, Joss and his crack staff raised the bar, and the stakes, (pun loosely intended), for what is now standard fare on American TV - the season-long story arc.

The show was the first true comic book on tv, and I don't mean that as an insult. Quite the contrary. Some of the best stories I've ever been told were in comic book form and, when done with tender loving care, few storytelling mediums are as original, expressive or hauntingly beautiful.

I watched all of Dollhouse last season because I feel, at the very least, Joss deserves the benefit of the doubt. At most, he deserves my patience. And, though at times I found it to be fairly hit and miss, it began hitting its stride down the stretch, and I was quite intrigued by the ideas hinted at, namely those revolving around identity. Science-fiction stories should have something to say, or at least foster healthy debate and thus far, Dollhouse, more than any other show of which I'm aware, shows the most potential to do what, at his best, Joss does best - entertain, inspire and misdirect.

You've done more than your share of all three for me, Joss. For that you have my undying gratitude, and respect. I'll be watching tonight. Godspeed.