It’s interesting that The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde presents the concept of doppelgangers by describing a choice, at least initially. In “The Replacement,” “Doppelgangland,” and The Transformation, the characters do not have any choice about the existence of their doppelganger. Guido chooses to exchange bodies with the dwarf, but that is a different sort of choice than the one Jekyll makes, which is to have a doppelganger in the first place. Because of this choice, Jekyll has no illusion that Hyde is part of himself, whereas Willow, Xander, and Guido all take a while to grasp this concept.
Nevertheless, the choice does not seem to be as important as the reaction to the doppelganger. Whether or not any particular character asked for a doppelganger, he was forced to acknowledge a facet of his personality once the doppelganger was present. Once this acknowledgement occurred, each character found himself accepting and reconciling the parts of his character, resulting in a harmonious whole (for better or for worse).
In “The Replacement,” the sloppier Xander cannot recognize the confidence that his other half displays, assuming it comes from a demon rather than from within himself. He assumes, and the audience is led to assume, that confident Xander is a demon, because his behavior is unfamiliar to the audience and to the dominant, goofier Xander as well. When the two sides are put together, however, they quickly even out so that they are fairly similar, showing that Xander’s character is actually fairly harmonious (and that he is less confident than he is clownish).
Jekyll, on the other hand, shares consciousness with Hyde, and fully recognizes Hyde as sharing his own characteristics from the very beginning. Of course, Jekyll does still have the more evil part of himself that is manifested in Hyde, where Hyde only possesses those evil characteristics. Still, I see the personas of Jekyll and Hyde as public versus private rather than whole versus evil. Jekyll continually reverts to Hyde, perfectly voluntarily for months, which tells us that he is not as ashamed of his actions as Hyde as he might lead us to believe. Hyde is a guise under which Jekyll can express himself freely. Perhaps Hyde shows more excess and violence than Jekyll would, but his actions have in a sense been condoned by Jekyll, as he continues to choose to unleash Hyde on the world.
As Lisa pointed out in class, the extent to which Jekyll and Hyde are harmonious figures becomes apparent when Jekyll wakes up one morning and suddenly realizes that he is Hyde. This realization is not based on his mental state. He believes himself to be Jekyll until he looks down and notices Hyde’s physical characteristics. How much can the characters of Jekyll and Hyde contrast if even he cannot tell the difference without physical cues?
Both the episode and the novel point to the fact that the sides of our natures are more in harmony than we might like to believe. When we are faced with an aspect of ourselves, whether or not we readily acknowledge it, we are able to reconcile it with the rest of us fairly quickly. We may or may not like all of our characteristics, but when we are forced to see that these characteristics do belong to us, we adjust fairly quickly into one fairly harmonious being.
On an unrelated note, how adorable is it that the worst part of Xander is simply clumsy and goofy instead of being murderous or something?
The thing that struck me most in “Tabula Rasa” was Buffy’s struggle with coming to terms with all that has happened to her (in brief summary: living with the burden of being the slayer, the knowledge that slayers have a much shorter expiration date than regular people, two deaths, a trip to heaven, and then having to crawl out of her own grave after Willow and the Scoobies bring her back.). Catherine and Buffy hardly compare until the memory wipe, during which Buffy becomes the girl she used to be, having to face the horrors of the world for the first time as she realizes she’s not normal. I found her reference to herself as a “superhero” while without her memory to be extremely poignant compared to the curse she has found it to be, disillusioned after years of battle.
This naïveté is mirrored by Catherine Morland’s character, who stumbles through Northanger Abbey, so awkward at time that she even makes me want to blush. She sees the world through the lens of a gothic novel, her imagination enabling her to believe all kinds of fantastical explanations for the world around her. Though I can’t view her as a heroine (what has she done that is truly heroic?) I do acknowledge that, by the end of the novel, she does, in some way, reflect the disillusionment that Buffy regains at the end of “Tabula Rasa.” She must face the fact that life is rather mundane, and that there are people in it who are crueler and more unpleasant than they have any right to be, like Isabella and John Thorpe, and General Tilney. Her world, like Buffy’s, is rather less than she’d hoped.
In addition, I came across Caroline Herman’s article “Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Dichotomy of Self: A Study in the Shadow Selves of Buffy and Spike” while poking around and doing a bit of Buffy research. It intrigued me because of our recent study of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (I know this post is super late, sorry!). It talked about Buffy’s darkness (which Dracula pokes at in “Buffy vs. Dracula,” and I just wanted to briefly discuss it’s view of Spike: “Spike… evolves into Buffy's other half, the part that understands, embraces, drives, and punishes her darkness - a function that transforms Spike into both Buffy's animus and her shadow.” In a way, Spike is Buffy’s Hyde, especially in “Tabula Rasa.” She keeps on denying him and denying the part of herself that is attracted to him, just as Jekyll denies Hyde. But at the end of the episode, she finally gives in. Herman declares “Buffy has never given into her darkness until now, and it liberates her only because she has the comfort of denial; in believing she came back wrong, she's able to think that this is not who she really is,” which I believe is how Jekyll feels about Hyde. By suppressing a part of himself, he comes to think of it as not a part of his true self, which, for him, absolves some of the blame. Buffy similarly excuses the dark part of herself by believing that something went wrong in her resurrection, and using that as an excuse to give in to it.
Source: Herman, Caroline. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the Dichotomy of Self: A Study in the Shadow Selves of Buffy and Spike” http://www.watcherjunior.tv/01/herman.php
The “Replacement” to me spoke about the complexity of the Buffy characters in comparison to what we might see in gothic literature or contemporary teen shows. BtVS obviously straddles two genres: the gothic and the “teen drama” that emerged in the 1990’s with Dawson’s Creek and the WB. Yet to refer to Buffy as solely one of these classifications is to misunderstand the hybridity of the show and it’s purpose in reinventing a classic genre for a new audience.
I often see Xander as the beloved goofball character, constantly the butt of jokes- he falls hopelessly in love with a Praying Mantiss, a Mummy Girl, and of course, follows Buffy with puppy dog eyes for the majority of the first two seasons. Yet looking back on Xander, I can’t help but find his decline into slob-dom a little unnerving. While at the beginning of the first episode of Buffy he is yes, a little goofy, he still is a well-kept, clean figure with enough acumen to notice that despite her looks, Buffy might be a little shady. Of course, despite his cuteness, he could never be the hero of the show, but his witty one liners and pining eyes prove his value as something else. Only over the course of the season’s does he develop into the scapegoat of the show- a character whose lack of masculinity and force (“sometimes we all rescue you, Xander) seem to exist to reinforce Buffy’s uniqueness and new gurrrrl power. While Joss Whedon can overturn modern stereotypes of women, he seems unable to do so without emasculating her male friends. Can there really exist no strong woman without compromising the strength of the supporting men?
Yet, that was a sidenote. (I am pretty sure I will get some hatred for that one. I swear, I am a feminist and I love Joss Whedon)
In Xander’s personality split we see the evolution of the show itself. Xander, constantly trying to find himself, is seeming stuck in his role as the goofy screwball sidekick. He, like the show, has a fun time, doesn’t take anything seriously, and perhaps to outside audiences, doesn’t represent anything valuable on deeper lever. Yet when split Whedon reveals that he is in fact a multi-faceted individual. Forceful Xander accomplishes his work, acts seriously and addresses problems of his life in mature way. Yet despite their differences, the Xanders cannot exist without each other. In their codependency I see a commentary on the show. Goofy Xander, with his quips and his poor choice of wardrobe is the teen drama and television format of the show. His doppelganger, forceful Xander, seems at first evil but is in actuality the embodiment of the gothic tradition. Although when joined critics might see the Xanders as a mess (or see Buffy as a mere teen drama) within his quips lies a seriousness that seriously packs a punch.
So “The Replacement” (I have to say it) it’s a little….meta.
During time of war, we can see the distinct roles that man and woman play. Men go to the battlefield as soldiers. They are “ ‘just warriors’ [who] fight and die for the greater good”. While women stay at homeland working in factories to produce the equipment necessary for the war. They are “ ‘beautiful souls’ epitomize the maternal war-support figure in need of male protection”. This image is reflected in the war movies where the male “just warriors” fight and die for their country.
In “Tabula Rasa”, we see a reversal of this role, where Buffy is a natural female “just warrior”. It’s natural because every character in this episode starts with their memory wiped, in other words each one of them starts with a blank slate. When the vampires attack the group, the men in the group should stand up and fight to protect the women. Because their memories are wiped, they don’t know about Buffy’s ability, thus by nature the men should be the ones to fight off the vampires. However, the men stood back and it was Buffy who stood up and protected the group. This reflects that she is chosen to be a slayer, a “just warrior”. As Early puts it, Buffy the TV show “brings women out of the shadows to center stage and permit protagonists to be disruptive and to challenge patriarchal values … in society”. Putting Buffy in other kind of shows, her appearance of high school girl would make her the first target to get protected, the first person to be scared. However, in Buffy, the female characters holds the center of stage, the ones whose powerful enough to cast spell to wipe everyone’s memory and the ones whose strong enough to protect the group in danger.
I think an interesting aspect of both Xander in “The Replacement” and Dr. Jekyll in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is the difference between which aspects of their respective personalities are repressed in the two characters. Xander sees the return of his repressed confident side, whereas Jekyll sees the return of his repressed evil side. We’re lead to believe that the Xander with the best characteristics is a demon because he demonstrates aspects of Xander that we don’t see very often. He is charismatic, successful, clean, and organized. As the other Xander says, “He’s doing everything better.” However, we usually see Xander as a bit lazy, goofy, clumsy, and awkward. He’s the clown of the Scooby Gang; thus, we, as audience members, are more willing to believe that the dirty Xander with all the worst characteristics is the “real” Xander and the organized, charismatic Xander is a demon. Willow and the rest of the Scooby Gang readily accept the idea that the “better” Xander is a demon. Buffy even comments that she thought that Xander seemed too confident. Therefore, contrary to the scenario in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Xander tends to repress his best characteristics, and it is these aspects that he must confront and accept throughout the course of the episode. Xander feels comfortable being a clown and a goof around his friends, and he somehow finds that this role is the most accepted. Perhaps he represses his accomplished side because he somehow recognizes that his place within the Scooby Gang is the comic relief. Nonetheless, Xander’s doppelganger experience allows him to realize by the end that he has the potential for success and charisma as well as awkwardness and clumsiness. These two distinct aspects of Xander reach a state of harmony at the conclusion of the episode.
On the other hand, when Dr. Jekyll creates the potion that splits off an aspect of his personality, his evil side is the aspect of himself that leaps at the opportunity for freedom. It is not his good side, but his bad side that Dr. Jekyll must confront throughout the novel. Unlike Xander, Dr. Jekyll immediately recognizes his baser doppelganger. However, he does not embrace it as a part of himself. He instead quarantines it to a separate form that can be accessed when he wants. He wishes to explore his repressed side, and enjoy the opportunities that Hyde can give him, but without the repercussions from society. As Hyde, he can act as he wishes without besmirching his character as the esteemed doctor. Unlike Xander, Jekyll feels as though he cannot be his worst self in society without feeling ashamed of what others might think. The novel demonstrates the extreme censure that society placed on public behavior during the Victorian era. The demands on how to act were so high that Dr. Jekyll felt it necessary to split himself in order to find respite from the internal battle between carnal instinct and higher reason. Thus, partly through his own predisposition for being a studious and dedicated member of society and partly from societal pressure, Dr. Jekyll repressed his worst qualities and experienced the consequences of what happens when you don’t embrace the darkness within yourself and don’t, as Janelle said in class, regularly exercise your monsters. I would even stretch to say that the novel suggests that if you don’t reconcile the disparate aspects of your personality, the ensuing battle will kill you.
Jekyll and Hyde most clearly demonstrates my point, so I’ll start there. It seems to me that part of the lesson characters learn from their doppelgangers is along the lines of “vice in moderation.” Aristotle was the (published) originator of the idea of everything in moderation, and naturally everything includes vice, or less-than-charming personality traits, etc. Xander’s doppelganger has all his more forceful and confident traits, and as Buffy observed, he seemed “a little forceful.” Willow’s vampire self, as Willow put it, “messed up everything she touched” (with a few exceptions, of course, Percy!). Hyde, obviously was a nasty fellow, running around kicking children and murdering popular public figures. The dwarf was busy causing a shipwreck before he ran into Guido. All four doppelgangers are the dark side (or in Xander’s case the serious, confident, forceful side of him) of their others. As Hyde shows us, too much of that side results in some serious problems for everyone, including Jekyll and the dead dude. But each doppelganger somehow benefited the other. Xander recognized the stronger parts of himself, allowing him to become a more fully rounded person; vampire Willow helped Willow to see herself objectively and to change without losing the good parts of herself (also, Percy!! Hahaha best thing ever); Guido gets the girl and the money and the overly-benevolent in-law; Jekyll gets some euphoric freedom. In moderation, Xander and Willow begin to enact their new-found personality traits with good results (at least until Willow turns into a crazed magic-addict). Jekyll, because he also became addicted and no longer followed the moderation rule, ended up dead. Guido, as we have argued previously, could be construed as the bad half, though “Transformation” is a little ambiguous. But in moderation, he got his life back. Had he allowed the dwarf to live his life entirely, Guido would have been stuck on a beach, ugly as hell, while some evil little troll was walking around in his body, marrying his girl. So lucky for him he decided to “kick the habit” by helping the dwarf to “kick the bucket.”
