It is a premise many have declared as being “groundbreaking” and “innovative.” That is, choosing to set two comic book characters from the Marvel universe inside of a retro TV show (or rather, several retro TV shows modeled after varying decades). Yet the obvious comparison cannot be ignored: WandaVision is, fundamentally, a more sinister version of Pleasantville–instead featuring superheroes dealing with psychological issues running the gamut from grief to PTSD to complete denial.
The 1998 movie that WandaVision patently takes a core premise from was directed and written by Gary Ross (best known for penning the screenplays for Big, Dave, and, after Pleasantville, Seabiscuit, The Hunger Games and Ocean’s 8). In it, a TV repairman (played by none other than Don Knotts) gives David (Tobey Maguire), an introverted teen who obsessively watches the Leave It To Beaver-esque 1950s show Pleasantville, a strange remote control. When he and his diametrically opposed sister, Jennifer (Reese Witherspoon), end up fighting over who gets to use it to watch what they want, the device sucks them into the world of Pleasantville. And as David pleads with the repairman from inside the TV to let them back out, he replies that they’re lucky to be in there. Pleasantville is far better than the real world. It’s a utopia–a place where nothing bad can ever happen. Yet if that’s the case, it’s only because reality is never addressed.
On that note, this is the precise logic that prompts Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen) to build an entire universe based on the sitcoms we later learn she studies obsessively as a child in order to learn English. But what she studied apart from the language was how everything magically (an apt word choice for Wanda) went back to normal at the end of the episode. This formula, ingrained in so many viewers even after the trope grew stale, can have just as injurious an effect on one’s mind. Causing an inevitable disconnect between how things are and how they were presented to us as an “absorbing collective.” As Lelaina Pierce in Reality Bites notes somberly to her best friend, Troy Dyer (Ethan Hawke), “I just don’t understand why things just can’t go back to normal at the end of the half-hour like on The Brady Bunch or something.” Troy replies, “Well, because Mr. Brady died of AIDS.” In other words, reality always finds a way of creeping in. Even for Wanda.
And yet, she does put on a good show for at least three full episodes before her narrative starts to go “on the fritz,” to use a static-y metaphor related to “bunny ears” atop TVs of yore. The infiltration of outside forces, specifically S.W.O.R.D., trying to ruin her perfect existence with Vision (Paul Bettany) is something she simply cannot allow. In this way, Westview also mirrors Pleasantville in that no one living in the town seems to be aware of anything outside of it, nor can they ever get out, with all roads leading inevitably back to the center once they’ve entered the confines of Wanda’s “hex” (that’s what astrophysicist Darcy Lewis [Kat Dennings] nicknames the hexagonal shape of the environment’s parameters). “Utopia,” therefore, effectively becomes a prison.
In this sense, suburbia on steroids–otherwise known as suburbia as it’s presented on twentieth century television–makes for the perfect commentary on false American ideals and the detrimental side effects of repression. This is why Pleasantville is included as an example in Robert Beuka’s 2004 book, SuburbiaNation, in which it is stated, “Pleasantville is a morality tale concerning the values of contemporary suburban America by holding that social landscape up against both the utopian and the dystopian visions of suburbia that emerged in the 1950s.”
No wonder Wanda is experiencing so many “schizophrenic” moments. The sitcom scene is such a drain on her mind. Not only is she forced to operate at the lobotomized level of an “average” housewife, but the force of will required to keep the “show” going is extremely exhausting, even for someone as powerful as she is. “You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma,” Wanda’s “brother,” Pietro (Evan Peters), tells her during the 90s episode, “All-New Halloween Spooktacular!” Suppressed it to the point of creating an entire subconscious world indeed. And to the extent of ignoring that Pietro is being played by an entirely different actor. Such is the scope of her desire to believe in the lie she’s created. With this sixth episode being Halloween-themed, Wanda also gets the chance to don her Scarlet Witch costume, a look Joss Whedon told her she would never get to wear. So thats another big “fuck you” to him of late. This 90s/early 00s episode is also patently modeled after a Malcolm in the Middle style. With its decade-specific “irreverence” and “edginess,” Pietro fits in perfectly as the deadbeat, irresponsible uncle to Wanda’s two sons, Tommy (Jett Klyne) and Billy (Julian Hilliard).
But even Wanda has trouble playing along at times. It was so much easier to do so in the 50s and 60s-inspired episodes. That was before certain outside influences cracked into the proverbial “matrix” Wanda created. Kind of like how Jennifer in Pleasantville starts the trend of turning everyone to color when she introduces the teens of her high school to sex. “Why do you look different?” Wanda asks Pietro directly at one point. Pietro offers the Shrink 101 assessment, “If I found Shangri-La, I wouldn’t wanna be reminded of the past either.” So yes, by bringing back Pietro without actually bringing him (a.k.a. his corpse) back, Wanda is getting the best of both worlds–literally. Because her brother is now played by the X-Men universe version of Peter Maximoff, just one of the show’s many meta references for the dweebo acolytes of Marvel.
When one thinks about what WandaVision actually achieves–which, at times, feels like even more than Pleasantville (again, the only other thing that’s come close to utilizing a similar concept)–it’s really quite remarkable. And it’s not just amazing because it manages to lure in viewers who have no prior knowledge of these characters or their universe, but because it mirrors back to us all the ways in which America has falsely packaged a lifestyle centered on “normal.” With the magical element at play–and Wanda’s need to stifle it from the prying neighbors (and S.W.O.R.D.) the way Samantha Stevens did–a fresh reminder of what it has meant to be a “good American” highlights just how fucked up the propaganda has made us all, who still have the inherited indoctrination of these false ideals. Starting from the very beginning, we see that the reason Wanda wants so badly to hide with Vision inside of this world is because it’s vacuum-sealed denial at its finest. Nothing can go wrong because nothing bad or “icky” is never allowed to be acknowledged on such shows. And if it is, the canned laughs must immediately be brought back in to lighten the tone.
Some aspects of WandaVision as the episodes progress are like the seventh installment of season four in Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, in which its forebear, Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, is parodied for a macabre effect. But the reason why it becomes macabre is because the audience of the current landscape has long ago been made aware that the sitcom format that thrived through the 1950s and even all the way up to the early 00s is so highly phony and ersatz that there’s something utterly sinister and grotesque about it.
The slow build of WandaVision leaves us feeling unsettled the entire time, until the characters finally break the fourth wall to address how weird and odd it’s all been in episode seven, “Breaking the Fourth Wall.” We can now dispense with the plastered on smiles, the repression–and feel a greater sense of relief for it. But one thing we can’t shake is the product placement. Which brings us to WandaVision’s deft use of commercials in the middle of each episode, every ad pertaining to some overarching theme of the current narrative. In this particular one, we’re being sold something less frothy, called Nexus, “a unique antidepressant that works to anchor you back to your reality… Or, the reality of your choice.” Just another “Easter egg” for what might happen next in the world of Marvel.
By episode eight, “Previously On,” everything has been made to defy prior sitcom convention as “Agnes” (Kathryn Hahn, who is clearly loving this role) a.k.a. Agatha Harkness, the erstwhile “nosy neighbor,” lets it all hang out. This comes in the form of using her witchly powers to bind Wanda from wielding hers as she forces her through various doors into the past that can give Agatha insight into how Wanda employed her sorcery to generate this world. As though speaking to viewers who still regularly turn to “vintage” sitcoms for comfort, Agatha tells her, “You’d rather fall apart than face your truth.” That ain’t no lie, obviously, as Wanda’s sense of denial is a large part of how Westview through her TV lens came to exist. Agatha, determined to shock her out of her denial, says, “It’s time to look at some real reruns.” Like the Ghost of Christmas Past, she takes Wanda back, derisively commenting on her childhood home, “Charming. Love the Cold War aesthetic.”
The past quickly reveals that Wanda’s family had a tradition called TV night, wherein they would watch shows like I Love Lucy and Bewitched to better learn English. The Dick Van Dyke Show (namely the episode, “It May Look Like A Walnut”) is the specific one Wanda chooses to watch in this memory.
Unsatisfied with what she’s learned, Agatha then takes her to the next flashback, where she taunts, “Little Wanda got up close and personal with an infinity stone.” Still, she remains unconvinced of how Wanda came to be what she is, transporting her now to a memory of herself watching Malcolm in the Middle at the Avenger House with Vision. As he tries to comfort her over her recent loss, he offers, “What is grief, if not love…persevering?” It is in this moment we can see they’re both falling in love.
With all the illogical information in her head now, Agatha deduces, “It’s chaos magic, Wanda. That makes you…the Scarlet Witch.” Her “dramatic reveal” stylings shift the tone of the show from one of sitcom to soap opera. A vibe that continues in the series finale, naturally called, “The Series Finale.” Here we see Agatha going for Wanda’s jugular as she absorbs her power and goads, “I take power from those who don’t deserve it. It’s kinda my thing.”
There’s even a real Wicked Witch of the East dying moment with her shoes popping out of the house that Wanda decimates. But, of course, Agatha ain’t dead. She’s only just getting warmed up in her bid to take over Scarlet Witch’s powers, which she feels are being squandered on making eggs and toast at all hours of the day for men. She chides Wanda for this weakness, reminding, “Same story, different century. There’ll always be torches and pitchforks for people like us, Wanda.”
But Wanda insists she is not evil, for nothing she has done was out of “intent.” To prove her wrong, Agatha undoes the townspeople’s “strings” that make them Wanda’s puppets. They shout at her pleadingly, “We feel your pain!” and “Your grief is poisoning us!” With the guilt getting to her, she tries to undo her TV Land, suddenly realizing that if this world no longer exists, then neither will Vision or her sons.
Before this revelation, there is a telling scene of “TV Vision” talking to S.W.O.R.D.’s re-creation of Vision (now all-white), asking him, “You are familiar with the thought experiment the Ship of Theseus in the field of identity metaphysics?” For those unversed, the experiment poses the question: if an object has all of its parts or components replaced, is it still the same object? The answer is both yes and no. In short, both men are Vision, it’s just that one of them doesn’t have his memories. TV Vision assures, “You do have the data. It’s being kept from you.” Sort of like Robocop with Directive Four. But Vision fixes this for his alternate self, and now White Vision can see everything clearly.
Even Wanda can, too. And what they each must come to accept, like David in Pleasantville (though, ironically, not Jennifer), is that the unpleasantness of the real world creeps in one way or the other–no matter what the simulation. Whether the city or suburbia, sitcom or docuseries, pain will perpetually find a way in. But the denial phase can be oh so delightfully numbing for a time.
