I guess this was a surprise to exactly no one. A few months ago I would have been ranting and raving at the news. It seemed to me that the show was just beginning to hit its stride at the end of season one.
Epitaph One and the first episode of season two were fantastic, both mixing inventive stories with deep looks at all of the characters. I thought that, after the first episodes that pretty much looked like movies of the week, the show was done throwing us episodic stories in which Something Randomly Goes Wrong.
Then we saw an episode where Echo subs in for a mother and gets wiped but still retains her maternal instinct enough to stumble around with a knife. And a show with a serial killer who ends up in Echo’s body. That was enough. I love the show, but not enough to have to sit through six by-the-numbers episodes to get into the main story for each season.
Goodbye, Dollhouse. I’m glad I watched you long enough for my love for you to sputter out. May the next Joss Whedon project end up on HBO.