As a child I loved Bewitched, so I was initially charmed by this first episode of WandaVision. On a second viewing, though, it becomes old very quickly. Nostalgia is only good for a brief moment, apparently. Structurally, you’ll see the episode is fairly sound. It’s just not funny, and the unsettling creepiness is too low key. Full notes are at the end of the Enneagram breakdown.
ONE
The screen clicks on, like a tube tv would, to show a black and white scene. A classic car, with a Just Married sign on the bumper, drives down a road. Inside, still in wedding gear, are a smiling Wanda and Vision. Sitcom music plays as they pass through a neighborhood. The mailman waves and Wanda, smiling, waves back while Vision pulls down his hat brim. Anyone who’s seen a sitcom has seen these dynamics: friendly wife, grumpy husband.
Wanda gestures at the For Sale sign in the yard, and it magically has a Sold banner across it. Vision, with his bald, metallic head, carries her, bride style, toward the threshold. With animated twinkle stars, he goes through the closed door and she drops to the welcome mat, shaking her head in mock confusion. He opens the door and carries her in proper while credits roll: “Starring Wanda Maximoff”. We get the picture. It’s winsome and retro, and also a little puzzling.
In the kitchen Wanda, wearing apron and pearls, magically levitates the dishes as she organizes the room. It’s done with CGI, I’m sure, but they’ve animated the dishes to look like they’re on wires, the way the old shows would’ve done it. Fun. Vision comes in, reading the newspaper, and they go through the sitcom schtick — insult, smile, give an “Oh, you!” with a dismissive gesture. With laugh track!
TWO
Vision asks if today is special. The calendar has a heart on this date, but neither of them remembers why. And they won’t admit they’ve forgotten. Just before Vision leaves for work he changes his face to a normal human presentation. So that explains that.
THREE
A knock at the door and here’s Agnes, “your neighbor to the right”.
FOUR
She brings a housewarming plant and they go through the first meeting routine. Wanda, however, has no wedding ring. As the jokes fly, Agnes cheats her head toward the studio audience (even though it doesn’t exist), which is also a great throwback marker. Well done on those little details.
Whatever today’s special event is, Agnes wants to help. She goes home for a magazine with ideas. Wanda looks very pleased.
At “Computational Services, Inc” Vision works at a desk in a communal room of desks. Large stacks of paperwork fill each inbox. He magically hustles through the adding machine tape while the laugh track plays. Oh, Vision’s pile is actually an outbox. He’s done. He questions his co-worker: What do we do here? No one knows. As they chit chat Vision remarks that he can’t remember what’s special about today.
From the executive office comes the boss. He says to Vision, My wife and I are looking forward to tonight. Ah, he remembers. Dinner with “Mr. Hart”. Another employee, carrying a box of his personal things, apparently failed at his introductory dinner. So, the stakes rise. (It’s also such a traditional sitcom plot. The little homemaker is put to the test.)
Back to Wanda and Agnes on the couch with the magazine, planning an anniversary dinner for the lovebirds. The jokes are stereotypically stale. In the middle of the women’s camaraderie Vision calls on the telephone to tell Wanda to not be nervous about this evening. They talk at cross purposes, each thinking they know what the other’s saying.
SWITCH
Cut to commercial. Burnt toast pops up. It’s an ad for a new appliance, ToastMate. A red indicator light on the toaster blinks and beeps faster and faster. Yes, it’s in color. I don’t catch all the Easter eggs, and I don’t think it’s necessary to do so. The red eye, insistent and counting down, is the important takeaway.
FIVE
Vision comes through the front door, accompanied by the boss and his wife. The front room is dim, lit by candlelight. He dashes into the kitchen to find Wanda; meanwhile, she comes down the stairs in a peignoir. Guess who, she teases, covering Mr. Hart’s eyes. Vision hits the lights and the scene is revealed. Wanda! She covers her cleavage. This is the traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality, Vision ad libs. Mrs. Hart rolls with it, a good sport. Wanda drags Vision into the kitchen.
They go back and forth, straightening out the misunderstanding until Wanda snaps her fingers, changing into an appropriate dress. Screen wipe.
Vision and Hart talk business on the couch, with Vision gently trying to figure out what the company actually accomplishes. Mrs. Hart, sitting next to them, is bored. In the kitchen Wanda opens the back door for Agnes, who enters with groceries and pans. Overloaded, she drops a pot, and the crash rouses Vision and the guests. Mrs. Hart wants to help, and Vision redirects her. Agnes wants to help, and Wanda ushers her out. Whoosh — Wanda’s arms go up and the kitchen gets to work. Now Mrs. Hart insists, opening the blinds that separate the rooms. We see everything in the kitchen levitating, while Vision starts to sing, distracting the guests. The laugh track cheers. While Vision grabs a uke and starts a sing-along, Wanda battles the dinner.
SIX
They switch jobs, Vision on meat tenderizing and Wanda out to entertain the guests. Agnes comes to the front door with a pineapple for the dessert, which allows Vision and Wanda to change places again.
SEVEN
The dinner party is a slog for the characters and for us. While the boss yells at Vision, Wanda flies in a dinner to the table. It’s breakfast — eggs, potatoes, sausage, and toast. And wine, lol. Breakfast for dinner? How very European, Mrs. Hart says.
EIGHT
As they eat, Mrs. Hart asks the usual questions: what brought you here, why don’t you have children, where did you meet? Wanda stares off into space. Neither of them knows the answers, and Wanda looks disturbed that she can’t say. The boss insists on an answer, banging on the table for some reason. He begins to choke. The wife keeps smiling, saying, “Stop it,” while Wanda and Vision just watch, uncomfortable. Finally, after Hart has fallen to the floor, Wanda says, “Vision, help him.” Under the table Vision magically reaches into Hart’s throat and pulls out the blockage.
NINE
When he rises, Hart looks at his watch, all fine and ready to go. Mrs. Hart covers Wanda’s eyes and says she’s leaving. (The Sokovian farewell. It’s actually cute.) The boss shakes Vision’s hand and says, We’ll see about that promotion on Monday. One of the misplaced dinner lobsters rests on the front door like a knocker. As the Harts leave, the audience track laughs and cheers.
Vision twinkles back to his own metal head as the two sit on the couch. We have no anniversary, they say, sad. At Vision’s suggestion, Wanda makes both of them rings. They kiss, the audience oohs, and the screen goes to a title card layout and credits for their show.
Pull out on the black and white television screen. Behind, we see color. Equipment, computer readouts, a darkened environment. A hand moves a folder in front of the television. Cut to the real credits.
CRITICAL NOTES
The beginning is a mock-up of a sitcom’s opening credit sequence. In a way it’s part of the One — this is how we arrived at this moment — and it’s also a bookend with no structural function at all. It’s a lot of fun, in that nostalgia-tapping way, but it’s also too long. Charming credits are followed by a mundane plot, which is traditional for that era. However, we are a faster society, and this isn’t witty enough to hold our attention the way a sitcom could fifty years ago.
The Switch is wonderfully balanced, though. I didn’t even notice the red light at first. The pacing, the strangeness, the visual detail — these are all the feelings we want from this show. And it really is the Switch. The boss arrives in the next scene, and the dinner party is the Five.
Also, the Three and Six are intriguing. Agnes In/Agnes Out. The pineapple delivery at the front door is very strange, in a deliberate way. Plotwise, it makes little sense, yet structurally it brings a tone at the right moment. Now that I’ve seen the full season, this Agnes insert is even more interesting.
The Eight is the best part. Vision does superhero things. Wanda breaks out of that toothy sitcom personality she’s been using. We have no answers, but at least we can begin to form questions.
The Nine suffers from the same difficulty as the opening. It’s a bookend. The fake show is over and the credits take us out. Then we have the modern section, briefly, in color. I absolutely agree that we must have something more than this sitcom, that we need a sense of Marvel’s reality. I don’t think that background is a good choice for this specific episode. It’s too industrial when juxtaposed against the sitcom world. It’s mysterious, but it’s not visually interesting. It’s a shot framed and dressed for impact, but not for artistry or curiosity. I want to know what’s going on, but I have no interest in the details of this world they’ve just shown me. It’s as boring as the episode, in its own way.
Here’s the bottom line: in Bewitched we knew the Rules of the Magic. Samantha refuses to use her power unless absolutely cornered, and then she’ll use it in the most secretive way possible. Her desire — I want to hide my magic abilities — is addressed in every episode. Either her want is thwarted or she succeeds, but she’s always pushed up against her limit.
What are Wanda’s Rules? (And what are her powers? Why is creating a magical dinner so unbelievably complicated for her?) None of this is established, which means the humor has no specifics to play against. Because I’ve seen the season I can say that her overarching desire is to maintain this fantasy town and life — I want to play house with my beloved and I want to forget that I’ve actually been cheated from having this. This is why the Eight is so satisfying. It challenges Wanda’s desire. In order to save the boss’ life Vision must break character and access his power, and he only does it when Wanda grants him that ability. Her want is thwarted, just briefly, and this is exactly how Olsen plays the beat.
I’m not seeing that intention anywhere else in this opening episode. Play house, already! Dress the dolls, arrange the furniture, shop from the Monkey Ward catalog. These are possible Four details that we miss. Then in the Five when guests arrive, the magic can be challenged and defined. What works within this reality, and what breaks the illusion? Right now the episode is focused on gimmick — sitcom homage — without any of the backbone that made those shows multi-year hits.
UPDATE: After I reviewed the first episode, and complained about the dry “real time” ending to it, Eric suggested that a bank of tv screens, all at static (or, better yet, color bars), would be a stronger finale. One of the screens would come to life as the “WandaVision” sitcom’s black and white end credits. More visually interesting, more mysterious, more forward-moving, than what the series gave us. Good idea!