I’m Not a Real Man, I Just Play One On TV
by Cowgurl
Reposted with Permission


The premise of the series Angel is simple: a vampire cursed with a soul is compelled by guilt to spend the rest of eternity seeking redemption for his one-hundred-fifty years of sadistic murders by fighting demonic crime, with the hope of someday being granted a second chance at a full human life by “The Powers That Be.”  Thus, the series understandably depicts a considerable amount of violence as each episode revolves around a case that Angel must solve along with his friends at their detective agency known as “Angel Investigations” (Angel).  But unlike its parent show Buffy the Vampire Slayer in which the primary hero is actually a heroine, Angel’s heroes are not only men, but physically as stereotypically masculine as any traditional male action hero is expected to be.  That is, Angel’s men are tall, good looking, strong, and know how to handle their weapons.  

Of course there are also women on the Angel Investigations team, but they are usually (though not always) shown in supporting roles rather than in active combat.  How then is it possible to argue that a series such as this which seems to present such a traditional narrative about the roles of men and women is in fact acting as “counterpublicity”: that it is “standing in opposition to…the dominant public sphere”? (Munoz 196).  Specifically, how can Angel, a series rife with men doing manly things actually challenge the notion of masculinity itself?  Upon a close examination of Angel’s characters and stories, one finds that the series is in fact accessibly readable as a counter-narrative to stereotypical ideals of masculinity; it achieves these ends by both exploiting and exploding the standard definitions of manhood.  

Through the episode “Billy” in which the men are infected by a mystical misogynistic virus, the creators of Angel utilize a campy reversal of the normally gentle male characters to distinguish their definition of a “real man” even further as well as to raise an important and all-too-rarely asked question: is violence an inherently masculine trait or is it purely constructed as such by outside forces?      

Through every socialization process, young girls and boys learn what it means to be a “man” or a “woman” but the one thing they do not learn is that these labels are only roles that adults act out because they feel they must (“Tough Guise”).  It should come as no surprise then that popular culture and media play a large part in reinforcing these constructed roles; after all it is in their best interest as capitalistic entities to continue reproducing their consumers (Munoz 203).  As Jackson Katz discusses both in his written work and documentary “Tough Guise” men in the real world wear a mask to hide their vulnerability for fear of being seen as weak.  Likewise, men in the world of television and film wear this same “tough guise” but do so to such a great extent that most viewers are not even aware it a role being played and not “real.”  As Katz explains, media help construct this mask of violence, invulnerability, physical strength, and absolute confidence as the natural state of manhood, implying that any male who deviates from these norms is not, in fact, a “real” man (“Tough Guise”).

As opposed to most television these days, especially in the action genre, Angel offers its viewers a vastly different definition of what it means to be a “real” man.  The portrayals of masculinities in Angel demonstrate how a narrative that at first glance seems non-threatening to the status quo can actually be read quite subversively.  In fact, the three main male characters are a far cry from the typical Hollywood action heroes.  Angel, although a vampire, is not your average bloodsucker to say the least.  Not only does his strict policy against killing humans restrict his diet to pigs’ blood but moreover his sensitivity to others’ needs and his willingness to sacrifice life and limb to save people set Angel apart as a leader, and in the words of the series, a “Champion” (Angel).  Wesley, while handy with a sword, is even more esteemed for his knowledge of supernatural forces, demonic beings, and ability to translate ancient texts.  Gunn, perhaps stereotypically seen as the “muscle” of the group because he is a young, urban, lower class Black man, is also a man with a pure heart who fights out of a sense of duty to his sister who was killed by vampires.  Each character has heroic aspects as well as flaws; strengths as well as weaknesses, and the writers are not shy about allowing all of these qualities to be seen.  Throughout the series, all three men have been shown crying, saying “I love you,” and other acts of vulnerability that collectively construct the definition of a “real” man in the Angel universe as not only physically strong and brave but intelligent, loyal, loving, honest, and selfless.  That is to say that “the equation of heroic masculinity with violent masculinity” (Katz 352) is a concept absent from the Angel narrative.  Thus it makes sense under the circumstances that the one episode of Angel which blatantly exploits gender stereotypes only acts to further deconstruct them.  Using the episode “Billy” as a case study, the creators’ views of what makes a man, as well as what makes a man a hero, can be ascertained.

The back story for the episode “Billy” is, in short, that Angel was forced to free an evil man named Billy Blim from Hell because an evil lawyer (Lila Morgan) of the evil law firm (Wolfram & Hart) was torturing Cordelia and would have killed her had Angel not complied.  In “Billy” the Angel Investigations team (consisting of Angel, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Charles Gunn, Cordelia Chase, and Winifred “Fred” Burkle) must face the consequences of this decision as they discover that Billy has the power to turn any man he touches into a brutal misogynist.  Through the events of the episode both Wesley and Gunn (and for a time it even seems Angel) are infected with Billy’s so-called “primordial misogyny” (“Billy”) which leads them to act in a manner that is completely contradictory to their own established character traits.  The behavior of the men under Billy’s spell serves a second purpose which is to caricature stereotypical male strength, aggression, and lust, and in doing so show that these emotions do not in fact constitute a “real” man according to the show’s creators.  In fact, Billy himself—the embodiment of masculine violence—can be read as weak: he is too cowardly to perpetrate crimes against women himself but enjoys watching harm come to them as a result of his influence on other men.  

In attempting to examine “Billy” I have found that it would be impossible to address every line or even every scene that deals with the issues at hand.  This episode is a text too rich to fully explore in such a short space, so I will focus on three scenes that are particularly significant to the theme, however, a brief summary of the scenes leading up the points of focus seems necessary. Billy, fresh out of hell, releases his misogynistic rage on any man he touches, resulting in murders, car crashes, and the brutal beating of his lawyer Lilah Morgan—none of which he actually does, but causes other men to do through his touch.  Angel and Wesley lift some of Billy’s blood from a crime scene for the purpose of ascertaining how Billy is able to induce his rage on normally nice men, and in the process of examining it Wesley becomes infected.  

Cut to Wesley and Fred back at the Angel Investigations office where they are alone together examining Billy’s blood under a microscope: Angel, Cordy, and Gunn are elsewhere. The chemistry between Wes and Fred is obvious as they work together and it has previously been established that Wesley harbors romantic feelings for her. Unfortunately Wes’s chance at a healthy relationship with Fred are about to become slimmer: he has been handling Billy’s blood—and not with caution.  The audience knows that Wes’s transformation has begun as his remarks turn off-color: “Speaking of saliva, where’s Cordelia?” Within moments he is tyrannizing Fred, grabbing at her dress while he declares:

We are going to have to make some changes around here…like no more of these provocative little outfits you wear…Maybe mommy and daddy never explained to you that men—grown men—are wired a certain way. You can’t be coming in here day after day waving it in my face like this…You’re practically daring me to take it…What do you think it’s like for me with you smelling the way you do?…You think you can taunt a man and get away with it? (“Billy”).  

Throughout this chauvinistic monologue with only minor interjections from a shocked Fred, Wesley is shot from a low camera angle, giving him a position that suggests power and authority while cuts to Fred are shot from a high angle, resulting in the appearance of (or perhaps reflecting her actual feelings of) “subordination, vulnerability, and weakness” (Silverblatt, Ferry & Finan 203).  Fred is initially seated in a chair and Wesley looms over her as he speaks, later perching on top of his desk and leaning in towards her.  As his dialogue becomes increasingly frightening, the camera is positioned such that Wesley occupies the upper left side of the screen and Fred the lower right.  The scene is shot at a slow pace with long takes and the lighting is even harder than the already-hard lighting used throughout the episode; together these elements create a highly tense and suspenseful atmosphere that informs the audience of impending doom (Ibid. 203-209).  When Fred stands up in an attempt to leave, she is face to face with Wesley who inches towards her as she slowly backs away from him.  The camera is positioned behind Fred’s back but instead of moving backwards along with her which would keep her relatively still in the center of the frame, the camera actually pushes forward as Wesley also moves forward giving the viewer a most disturbing feeling of the walls closing in and being trapped—similar, I imagine to what Fred would be feeling as the unpredictable Wesley closes in on her and at the next moment slaps her so hard that she falls to the ground.  In a perfect example of how camera angles can subconsciously affect an audience, screenwriters Tim Minear and Jeff Bell describe how the director chose to “short-frame” Wesley’s face in the shot after he slaps Fred.  It is a tight shot with Wes’s face taking up most of the left side of the screen and his eye-line is also pointed left.  Minear and Bell explain that in a traditional shot Wes’s face would be on the right side of the screen with his eyes gazing towards the empty space on the left; making the decision to deviate from this standard increases the audience’s feelings of discomfort with the scene although they probably have no idea why (“Billy”).

Thus begins Wesley’s murderous rampage which proves to be allusive to The Shining   as he hunts for Fred up and down the hallways of the office (which is actually an old hotel) with an axe while ranting to himself about the evils of women.  While this is the most blatant example of intertextuality in this episode, Angel itself is teeming with references, rip-offs, and homages to classic science-fiction and horror films.  In their commentary Minear and Bell acknowledge their allusion to The Shining yet are careful to point out their attempt to distance Wesley from a “gibbering Jack Nicholson” (“Billy”) which they claim would be just plain silly.  Minear and Bell are wise to be concerned about seeming silly in an episode such as this in which their characters are taken so far from what is natural to them that the whole thing appears at first to be a joke.

However, this is no joke: just when Fred appears to be done for, Gunn appears out of nowhere and hauls her to an empty room where we can assume for a moment that they will be safe. No such luck.  It is soon revealed that Gunn also touched Billy’s blood and fearing that the same violence will soon consume him, he instructs Fred to knock him out with a chair leg.  Fred complies, but not before a few violent threats have escaped from Gunn, who does his best to suppress the hateful urges.  The camera angles in this scene include some tight shots of Gunn’s screaming face as he orders Fred to either hit him or give him back the chair leg so he can “smash [her] stupid head with it” (“Billy”).  But overall, the frame of reference puts Fred and Gunn on equal levels visually, which I believe is indicative of Gunn’s attempt to save Fred from himself by giving her the power and permission to knock him out.  Minear and Bell seem to agree, as they comment during this scene that Gunn’s actions are heroic—an opinion I believe is reflected in the camera angles.  

The two previous scenes have addressed what happens to our usually gentle (in Wesley’s case even timid) characters when they are infected with the hatred of a misogynistic demon virus: one goes over the deep end almost immediately with no trace of his normal self to be found while the other realizes what is happening and nobly sacrifices himself for his friend’s safety.  Both men were, however, actually infected, a distinction that becomes important when examining Angel’s scene.  Feeling responsible for Billy’s deliverance from hell and having decided to take matters into her own hands, Cordelia is on the tarmac of an airport as Billy’s personal jet prepares to take him away to who-knows-where: presumably for the purpose of spreading his woman-hating joy all over the world.  After zapping him with a stun-gun Cordy points her crossbow at Billy’s throat and says that she has come to send him back to hell.  But as she is about to pull the trigger Angel swoops in and knocks the weapon from her hands.  Angel explains that he knows how evil Billy is and for that reason wants the satisfaction of “wasting this piece of garbage” himself (“Billy”).  

As Angel approaches Billy, Cordelia and the audience are aware that Billy’s touch could turn Angel into a horrible demon (somehow Angel has been left uninformed of this fact) so when Billy grabs Angel’s face and we see the orange handprints (the established symbol for rage infection) glowing on Angel’s cheeks we know that this is not going to end well.  The act breaks and begins again in the Fred and Gunn scene already described above, leaving the audience to speculate as to whether Angel has been infected by Billy or not.  Upon returning to the scene on the tarmac, it appears that he undoubtedly has been.  Angel tells Cordelia to leave, presumably in a Gunn-like attempt to protect her from himself; when she refuses he spins around and yells ferociously at her to “Get out!”  Since Angel is one who seldom loses his cool or raises his voice it seems apparent that Billy’s rage has possessed him.

Cordy encourages Angel to fight the urges while Billy encourages him to give in: “Don’t fight it, feel it…All that rage, all that hatred bubbling to the surface” (“Billy).  The camera is tight on Angel’s face.  He is breathing heavily and growing tense, in perfect character for someone who has supposedly just been infected with primal male rage.  The camera cuts between close-ups of Angel’s face and that of Cordelia as she explains that she cannot leave because this is her problem.  The camera cuts to a wide shot of the three: Angel is in the middle facing Cordy, his back towards Billy.  Angel inches threateningly towards Cordy in the same way Wesley did earlier towards Fred, and he speaks in the same low, menacing tone of voice.  With all apparent anger and hate directed toward Cordelia her declares, “You know what your real problem is? Guys like him!” And on the word “him” Angel pivots and punches Billy, proving that he in fact was pretending the entire time.  

As it turns out, Billy’s mystical virus has no effect on Angel because he is not actually a man.  As he explains to Cordelia, his human side has long been dead and even though he killed masses of people as a vampire, he did that not out of any rage or hatred for his victims but for “the pain and the pleasure” (“Billy”). But what is more important than whether or not Angel was actually subjected to the violent feelings is his ability to demonstrate how the masculine role, as defined by Billy (i.e. lust, rage, hatred, violence, need for power, domination) need not be real to be effective.  Angel has succeeded in perfectly demonstrating Katz’s concept of the “tough guise” although he put it on for the purpose of leading Billy to believe he was in no danger and thus let his guard down.  In revealing that his infection was only a performance, Angel draws into question the notion that this “primordial misogyny” (“Billy”) is a quality present somewhere deep within all men, just waiting to come to the surface.  

In the final scene, this question is once again echoed as Fred confronts Wesley for the first time since he tried to kill her.  To fill in the blanks, Fred uses her wit to overpower Wesley and Lila appears on the tarmac with a gun and shoots Billy dead: thus putting an end to his power over others.  Days later at Wesley’s flat, Fred encourages him to return to the office but Wesley, guilt ridden over what he has done replies that he cannot because he tried to kill her.  Fred tells him that he didn’t: that is wasn’t him, to which Wes replies, “How can you know that? Something inside me was forced to the surface. Something primal…I don’t know what kind of man I am.”  And as if she were the fictional female incarnate of Jackson Katz, Fred responds: “It wasn’t something in you Wesley, it was something that was done to you…You’re a good man” (“Billy”).

Obviously this episode presents a difficult and complex question, to which it cannot provide an answer but can offer two contrasting possibilities.  The character of Billy can be used as a metaphor for each: either he symbolizes media that bring out violence in males or the forces of society and culture that construct violence as masculine, depending on one’s point of view.  To those such as Katz, the barbarism displayed by men in this episode is not a result of some “primordial misogyny” that lies dormant in all men but rather, a symptom of a cultural syndrome that expects men to be invulnerable and invincible.  Perhaps it is in this way that Angel can best be seen as a challenge to the dominant perception of masculinity since its male heroes are neither invulnerable nor invincible yet are in the end better men because of that.
 

Works Cited
“Billy.” Angel. Dir. David Grossman. Perf. David Boreanaz, Charisma Carpenter, Alexis
Denisof, J. August Richards, Amy Acker. DVD. Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2003.  

“Billy.” Angel. Screenwriters’ Commentary by Tim Minear and Jeffrey Bell. DVD.
    Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, 2003.

Katz, Jackson. “Advertising and the Construction of Violent White Masculinity: From
    Eminem to Clinique for Men.” (From Course Packet)

Munoz, Jose Esteban. “Pedro Zamora’s Real World of Counterpublicity: Performing an Ethics of
the Self.” (From Course Packet)

Silverblatt, Art., Jane Ferry, and Barbara Finan. “Analysis of Production Elements.”
    Approaches to Media Literacy: A Handbook. 1999. (From Course Packet.)

Tough Guise. Dir. Sut Jhally. Perf. Jackson Katz. Media Education Foundation, 1999.