‘Bushwhacked’ is the third episode of ‘Firefly’ but was the second to air thanks
to Fox.
The episode was written and directed by Tim Minear and its story uses a curious structure
that further develops some of ‘Firefly’s deeper themes.
The term “Bushwhack” means to live or travel in wild or uncultivated country.
And, in this episode we see what happens when that wild or uncultivated country hits back.
Summary The crew is taking a little time for recreation
in the bay with a game of...I’m gonna say hoop...ball?
The structure of the opening scene is important as it reinforces the current state of each
character as well as develops one of the episode’s key themes: civilization versus the frontier.
Inara and Simon, the two most cultured of the group, watch the game looking down from
above.
Their clothing still showcases an the influence of high society, though Simon’s is evolving
compared to the pilot.
His sleeves are now rolled and he has no tie.
He is confused by the game but Inara’s reaction to it reflects understanding.
00:45 “Who is winning?”
- “I can’t really tell.
They don’t seem to be playing by any kind of civilized rules.”
“Well, we’re pretty far from civilization.”
Inara understands the situation better but it’s where she chooses to be.
And while Inara and Book don’t consider themselves part of the crew, Book has still
chosen to play the game.
When the proximity alarm goes off and Wash has to go to work, Kaylee invites Simon down
from his position, metaphorically into their world.
And then of course, there is River, still off on her own from everyone.
“Why don’t you come down and fight for our side.
Inara won’t mind.”
“Kaylee’s always one man short.”
Jayne and Kaylee’s brother-sister bond continues.
In the cockpit, everyone takes in a view of the derelict and the blocking gives us a hint
of the current state of all the characters in their relation to Mal.
The trusted in the front.
Inara slightly in the back.
The doctor just barely inside and far off on her own, River.
Again, revealed through a camera movement rather than a cut.
The crew argues as to whether or not to check the derelict, with Book being the conscience.
4:30 “All the more reason for us to do the right thing.”
As the team dresses to search, Simon, the most civilized of the group, expresses his
terror at the nothingness of space and Jayne acts with his typical compassion.
6:20 “It’s impressive what nothing can do to a man.”
The ship shows signs of being taken rapidly.
There are trays of uneaten meals and supplies left behind.
A terrifying personal log appears to somehow wake River on the ship.
Jayne pranks Simon over to the derelict and River follows, pointing out the defiled remains
of the Reaver’fied colonists.
They discover a traumatized survivor.
Kaylee, ever the cheerful one, isn’t sure the dude killed anyone.
Jayne is assured of it.
When the survivor looks out the window at Kaylee and Inara and says...
19:14 “Cattle for the slaughter.”
...Mal’s mind is made up.
“Dope him.”
As Kaylee frees them from a Reaver trap, Book tends to the dead.
And, just as they’re about to set sail, the Alliance comes upon them and the second
act and flavor of the episode begins.
Mal asks Simon to bring River to the bay and Simon doesn’t take it well.
“Is that why you let us stay?
So you can use us as bargaining chips?”
Jayne: “I knew there was a reason.”
Book: “Don't be a fool, son.”
Book already knows and understands what Mal intends to do, by virtue of the conversation
that he had with Mal in the previous episode.
The Alliance boards and searches the ship.
In his exchange with the Alliance officer, Mal uses his full heroic title...
“I’m Captain Malcolm Reynolds.”
...as well as very particular language to answer his questions.
“No children on this boat.”
“I didn’t say children.”
“I notice how these older model Fireflies have troublesome little knooks.”
“Do they?”
As ever with Mal, verbalosity is mostly just an opportunity for cunning.
The Alliance discovers the survivor has scarred himself.
And, one of my favorite scenes in the series commences: The Interrogation.
This is pure character play, a scene more typical of a show in its second or third season
rather than it’s second or third episode.
“Is there any particular reason you don't want to discuss your marriage?”
“We’re very private people that’s all.”
“The LEGS….definitely have to say her legs.
Her legs and the part where her legs meet her back.”
*Jayne-ing intensifies And, as the interrogation proceeds, the search
continues on Serenity.
This particular guy always pisses me off.
Did you think the Tams were hiding under that place mat, you numpty!
JEEZ.
So disrespectful.
Anyway, it is revealed the Tams are clinging to the body of Serenity for life, Simon in
sheer terror and River with awe and joy.
The survivor escapes back to the ship, Mal bargains his way into leading the search party
and, upon Mal saving the Alliance officer from the Reaver’fied survivor, the Alliance
departs and sets Serenity free, though they take the cargo.
“He had to.
Couldn’t let us profit.
Wouldn’t be civilized.”
3 Analysis
‘Bushwhacked’ essentially breaks into two discrete acts.
After a quick prologue, the first act takes place mostly on the derelict ship, giving
us the clearest glimpse yet of the Reavers.
And the second act, drastically different in tone, begins when the Alliance appear.
Juxtaposing them against each other as he has, Tim Minear sets up the Alliance and Reavers
as mirror opposites of a philosophical spectrum.
More on that in a minute.
Given the monsters it seeks to shape, the first Reaveriffic act in the episode is one
of the more curiously horrifying and actually SCARY of any in the Whedonverse, and its aesthetics
are heavily influenced by the horror genre.
The derelict is bathed in darkness.
Kaylee says the ship is in perfect mechanical condition and yet no one bothers to hit a
light switch before a good scare can be served up.
Wide angle lenses, used throughout the first act, distort reality at their edges and are
a common tool in horror for making us feel uncomfortable.
‘Bushwhacked’ also contains a few fun nods to some very prominent horror influences.
In the film ‘Event Horizon,’ a rescue team is sent to find a ship with a futuristic
propulsion drive that, they discover through research and personal logs...
8:48: Personal Log.
Someone was in the middle of an entry.
...sent the ship to literal Hell (whether it was a special one I couldn’t say) and
brought it back haunted.
The evil it was exposed to infects and turns the members of the rescue team against each
other.
In the case of ‘Bushwhacked’, that Hell is an attack from the Reavers which infects
the only surviving crewman who haunts the ship.
Weir/Reaver Mal indirectly calls out another famous horror
influence during his interrogation scene.
In Stephen King’s ‘IT’, a supernatural pure-evil, which often takes the form of Pennywise
the Clown, marinates his prey in their fears before consuming them.
There is a recurring line in the story…
“You’ll float too……”
“YOU’LL FLOAT TOO…”
Which is a reference to the way Pennywise’s balloons 'float,’ the way corpses float
in the sewers he drags them down to, and the way his victims float in the air and are driven
insane when they see his true essence.
The first act of ‘Bushwhacked’ features a body floating in space, Pennywise’s red
floating balloon, victims floating in the air, and a man driven insane when exposed
to evil’s true essence.
38:27 He looked right into the face of “It” and was made to stare.”
Other than the self-evidently wonderful interrogation scene, there are some nice character bits
throughout.
Notably, building off one of the previous episode’s themes, when Mal introduces himself
to the Alliance he uses his full, Greek-heroic title: “Captain Malcolm Reynolds.”
Jayne pranking Simon, the object of Kaylee’s attention, is a nice extension of his brotherly
relationship with her.
And rather than simply crumbling under it, Simon reasserts himself as the first to tease
Jayne about being attacked by the survivor, “Oh yes, he’s a real beast.”
“Looked bigger when I couldn’t see him.”
I love the visual of Kaylee cutting a pressure line and Serenity, the tenth character on
the show, bleeds.
4 Zoe, again, life in Greek and metaphorically,
Mal’s connection to it is the one regularly concerned with the lives of the colonists.
“Lifeboats.”
I love her knowing look when Mal agrees to Book’s funeral requests.
In this scene, when he’s speaking to a roomful of voyagers that all represent parts of himself
he’s variously putting them at ease while having multiple motivations.
There is more than ONE truth to this scene and to this moment.
Mal is complex, and this room of people with different interests works as a wonderful representation
of his own inner push and pull.
The shape of River’s trauma is coming into clarity.
Several of her moments of anxiety in this one are either shockingly coincidental...
Scalpel -> Scream ...or an indication that something more complicated
is going on here.
But, her most significant moment comes when, clinging to the side of Serenity with Simon,
she peers into the nothingness of deep space and we see her happy...joyful...for the first
time.
She is not afraid of the emptiness but welcomes it, and is the only one who traverses the
bridge between the two ships without a spacesuit.
5 In terms of Mal’s heroic journey, the loose
classical parallel here would be Odysseus landing on Circe’s island.
When he gets there, it’s just supposed to be so his men can get provisions, but Circe
drugs and turns them all into pigs.
Odysseus falls for Circe and let’s a year of his voyage for home waste away.
When he is finally convinced to leave he must descend into Hell, where he witnesses the
woes of many mythological lives including, Sisyphus.
5.5
In the video for ‘The Train Job, I briefly referenced some of the show’s existential
underpinnings in reference to Mal’s line about choice but, after watching ‘Bushwhacked’,
I think a more thorough unpacking is necessary.
Now stick with me here.
This may seem like a bit of a tangent but ALL of this becomes more and more relevant
as the series goes on.
Broadly speaking, philosophy is the study of reality and existence, often to address
certain fundamental questions we all ask.
For instance, does my life have meaning?
That question by itself could be read as the theme of every show in the Whedonverse, from
‘Buffy’ to ‘Firefly’ to ‘Dr. Horrible’.
And in the commentary track for ‘Objects in Space’, Joss Whedon said that he is an
atheist and absurdist, commonly considered an offshoot of existentialism.
The fundamental underpinning to existentialism is that the universe and everything in it
is meaningless.
There is no purpose, no cosmic justice, no rules.
And yet, absurdly, the human animal is one born with an insane craving for meaning and
purpose.
The man most associated with godless existentialism is Jean Paul Sartre, whose book ‘Nausea’
Joss Whedon described as the most important he’d ever read.
The term “nausea” was what Sartre used to describe his protagonist coming to the
realization that nothing in this universe is intrinsically meaningful.
A chair doesn’t have some essence that makes it a chair.
Neither does a lamp, or a ship, or a gun.
They’re just objects.
They don’t mean what we think they do.
Sartre found this terrifying as, if nothing is intrinsically meaningful than we are all
tasked as individuals to invent our own moral code to live and make choices by.
And he called failing to do so, acting in bad faith.
While the universe does exhibit some gravitational push and pull over our circumstances, we as
individuals can never have taken from us our freedom to choose, even if that choice is
just how we choose to suffer.
If we fail to do so voluntarily...if we fail to make moral choices and pretend as though
we are not free, then we deny our authentic selves, abandon our only ability to make life
meaningful, and become nothing more than objects in space.
Existentialism raises a number of questions, not the least of which is if morality is totally
arbitrary then what’s to stop someone from choosing to be a Nazi if they believe that
to be an expression of their authenticity?
Sartre believed in man’s absolute freedom and he himself had some questionable positions
about Stalinist communism and the gulags.
But, in contrast to the terrifying nausea of Sartre’s protagonist, Whedon described
his own first moment of existential clarity as exhilarating.
In Albert Camus’ essay ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’,Camus used the Greek myth as a metaphor for the
existential condition.
Sisyphus was condemned by the gods to push a rock up a hill and, just before the rock
got to the top, it would roll back down to the bottom and Sisyphus would have to go and
get it.
For all eternity.
Why, Camus wondered, did Sisyphus just not take a seat at the top.
Why go and get the rock?
Why continue to participate in such an intrinsically meaningless pursuit?
And that’s us, to Camus.
One job, one relationship, one day after another after another.
Camus wrote: “If the descent is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place
in joy.
This word is not too much.
It happens that melancholy arises in man's heart: this is the rock's victory, this is
the rock itself.
But crushing truths perish from being acknowledged.”
I take this to mean that, while for some there may involve grief in the acknowledgment of
an intrinsically meaningless universe, it’s still meaningless.
If life is empty and meaningless...then it’s also meaningless that it’s empty and meaningless.
And the terror and nausea of Sartre’s protagonist is still a meaning that HE was creating, not
one intrinsic to the discovery.
Camus continued: “All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein.
His fate belongs to him.
His rock is a thing.
There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.
For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days.
The rock is still rolling.”
Both Satre and Camus were vague on their explanations of morality, (though Camus’ writing seems
to indicate a belief in certain values common to all human beings as human beings) but,
where Sartre thought perfect freedom AND perfect justice could be accomplished through communism,
Camus believed there was a delicate balance between the two.
“Absolute freedom is the right of the strongest to dominate,” Camus wrote, while “absolute
justice is achieved by the suppression of all contradiction: therefore it destroys freedom.”
6 And I think it’s that philosophical balance
that explains the two acts of ‘Bushwhacked’.
For lack of a better term, the Reavers are bad faith id monsters, devoid of guilt or
compassion.
Not immoral but utterly amoral, devoid of conscience.
And without the ability to make choices that might be in opposition to their own desires,
they may as well be just another meteor or an asteroid hurtling through the nothingness.
Objects in space.
Notice too, that the Reavers aren’t even IN this episode.
In that sense, they ARE nothing, and yet their influence is still powerful.
The right hand of nothingness.
And throughout, the crew regularly makes verbal comparisons between the two.
“Reavers might take issue with that philosophy.
“If they had a philosophy.”
“They’re nothing.”
6:50 Jayne: Simon is scared of nothing.”
“It’s impressive what nothing can do to a man.
When the Reavers leave a man behind, that man becomes one of them.
Being overcome by the nothing, turns you into it.
38:18 Man comes up against that kind of will the only way to deal with it, is to become
it.”
But some form of the term “civilization” appears five times throughout this one.
And the Reavers’ philosophical counterpoint on the spectrum, going by Camus’ statement,
are the Alliance, stewards of a society they consider just, but not free - as it isn’t
one that allows for contrarian voices.
If Reavers indicate a nihilistic absence of philosophy, the Alliance then represent institutional
thought.
And from that far side of the spectrum, it’s very difficult to see any distinction between
the rest.
The Alliance commander even refers to Serenity and crew as though they were the likes of
Niska and Crow.
“Vultures.”
Niska, Crow, etc But we know better.
The juxtaposition of the Reavers to the Alliance begins immediately, starting with the game
of hoop ball, where the members of the crew with closer ties to the Alliance watch from
above, and then when the crew fears the Reavers have returned to their trap and instead…
“Looks like civilization finally caught up with us.”
In stark contrast to the Reaver’fied survivor that has slashed himself and is wearing rags,
the Alliance outfits are crisp.
Structured.
And orderly.
During the conversation in the mess notice, again, the repetition of the word “civilization”:
“Reavers ain’t men.”
- “Of course they are, too long separated
from civilization, but men.
And somewhere in the middle, passing back and forth between the two influences, is Serenity.
This is beautifully represented by the shot of the Tams clinging to her exterior.
The way this shot is blocked, the Tams are physically hiding from the Alliance behind
Serenity.
Being this close to the nothing of space and absolute freedom makes Simon uneasy.
He is a creature of the alliance who is in this situation because of his love for his
sister, not out of any deep desire to be free of civilization.
But that civilization has not been kind to River.
She stares into the abyss with awe and looks as though she might just let go and kick away.
There are parallels between River, tortured by the Alliance, the surviving colonist, tortured
by the Reavers and, since the crew members can all, in some way, be seen as an aspect
of him, Mal. 38:27 You call him a “survivor,” he’s
not.
He looked right into the face of “It” and was made to stare.”
Alone, the surviving colonist became untethered.
But Simon, keeps River in the world and Serenity and her crew do the same for Mal.
This is the constant balance they are always fighting for.
They rebel against the Reavers and total metaphorical freedom.
Some guiding ethos and morality has purpose.
“How we treat our dead is what makes us different than those that did the slaughtering.”
And they rebel against the absolute structure and abdication of freedom that the Alliance
represent.
“Not the only oddity on this end of space commander.”“Things aren’t always so
plain on the central planets.”
“Rules can be a mite fuzzier.”
During his interrogation, Mal smiles and speaks what might be one of my favorite lines in
the series, as well as one of its most important.
“May have been the losing side.”
“Still not convinced it was the wrong one.”
The futility an act doesn’t dictate its value.
Right and wrong aren’t defined through power or freedom.
And meaning ensues somewhere in-between, in pursuit of the next job.
That’s Mal.
Like Sisyphus, heading down to get his rock again.
In his conclusion to ‘The Myth of Sisyphus’, Camus writes:
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain!
One always finds one's burden again.
But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks.
He too concludes that all is well.
This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile.
Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms
a world.
The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart.
One must imagine Sisyphus happy.