To that last, my answer is no.

I've seen accusations that fans of the series are giving the movie a free pass. I am not one of them. Firefly, in my opinion, is one of the best damned shows ever put on the air, so my bar for this film was set very high. Did my heart soar to see those characters walk across the screen once more? Of course. Is that all I needed to be satisfied? No, not really.

First, continuity. I get extremely irritated when writers can't keep their own stories straight (Lucas, anyone?), and I'm tempted to string Joss up by his toenails. The opening scene is justification enough. For one thing, Simon never set foot in the academy. In his explanation to the crew in the pilot episode, he says he used his contacts to get in touch with people who could smuggle River out via the cryo box, which he met and picked up on Persephone before boarding Serenity. He didn't go there himself, there was no over-dramatic grand escape as depicted in the film. The scene makes even less sense given other considerations. For one, Simon at that point in his life was not capable of pulling off an impersonation like that. He simply lacked the confidence. For another, he was not aware until later in the series of even some of River's abilities, which he most certainly would have been if the lab doctor had straight out told him that River was a psychic. He also could not have predicted her ability to foil the guards, and he would have demonstrated that knowledge within the series, rather than continually underestimating her and doing the equivalent of sticking his fingers in his ears regarding her psychic and special-forces-like developments.

In addition to all this, the scene was just in poor taste. It conformed to the film mantra of 'make everything bigger with more explosions,' and added nothing a more restrained, refined version of River's escape couldn't have done better. The mad scientist set was hokey and far less disturbing than a bare room with a simple operating table and surgical implements would have been. Less is more and versimilitude is key, two concepts too rarely found in Hollywood.

Now we move on to continuity issues in the form of gross character assassination, namely in Mal. Obviously it was a deliberate choice to show all the worst aspects of Mal's personality and do all they could to make the audience detest the main character, but I think it was a poor one, wholly ignoring the entirety of the character development throughout the series. Not only did Mal regress back to the beginning of the series, as Chris put it, but the film went even further than that - the Mal of the series would never, no matter what circumstances or pressures, have said and done some of the things the Mal of the movie does. Including some fairly hefty direct contradiction - one of the best, and most telling, exchanges in the series comes at the end of "Safe":

Simon: Why did you come back for us?
Mal: You're on my crew.
Simon: Yeah, but you don't even like me. Why'd you do it?
Mal: You're on my crew. Why are we still talking about this?

How then do we come to Mal taking advantage of River's capabilities and shoving Simon around, expressly telling him this treatment is to be expected with no consideration given because Simon, and River, aren't part of the crew? The fuck?

coureton argued that the choice to make Mal an asshole was to show that he and the crew had reached a breaking point, but this could easily have been accomplished without compromising the basis of his character. I understand the point was also to make the in-film development, his decision to Do the Right Thing, more powerful, but again, see previous point. Thirdly, Joss seems to have wanted to make the point that the film isn't about shining heros, to give the piece a grimmer feel, and this also failed. The Mal of the series is no shining hero by a long stretch, and morally dubious adds a richer, more varied flavour than morally bankrupt.

The movie ends at the exact same place as the series - Mal and River acknowledging each other and working together. We didn't need to jump miles back just to reach that point via a different route.

Firefly was remarkable for its blend of comic and serious and of the sci-fi and Western genres, as well as its witty dialogue and intricate, layered plots and themes. It was clever, and above all, it was gritty. The frontier, Old West-style settings aided this a great deal, as well as the versimilitude of higher-powered technology that had become rundown and commonplace (the holographic pool table on the fritz in "Shindig" is the best setting example in the series), and even the core planets still looked and felt much like cities of our time. There was none of this fatal sci-fi trap of "in the future, technology is ubiquitous and magical and shiny and slick!", which, I am sad to say, even some of my favourite series are at times guilty of (Trek and Bab5, I'm looking at you). Serenity, on the other hand, falls right into it. I think what saddens me the most is that, as a whole, the film abandons its vital originality for tired old sci-fi flick and even generic movie conventions, especially when Whedon is known as a writer who likes to buck conventions, as Firefly demonstrates so beautifully. I understand that the film needed to take place on more than just the frontier worlds, and to have a faster, more intense pace, but it didn't need to abandon Firefly's distinctive themes and flavour; it went from a story about people on the margins of society, who get stepped on and ignored by those influencing events, getting caught up in something larger when they refuse to give up a single child they encounter to a conventional Saving the World plot. Why does it have to be the whole damned world? Why is the life and freedom of one teenage girl less meaningful? Why isn't it enough just to imply the threat to the rest of the free world if the government has its way with River? And why lose the unique background to sets that with very few changes could be found on most any sci-fi drama?

Chris put it best when he said that the movie was dark but not gritty.

Another continuity issue: if River has such unparalleled close-combat skills, why was she entirely helpless each time she was manhandled (or threatened with such) in the series? "Safe," "Aerial," and "Objects in Space" are good examples. The explanation implied in the film is that the subliminal messaging in the bar display screen triggered or unlocked something in her brain, but I find the justification half-assed and the device conventional. It also doesn't particularly make sense - why would her abilities with firearms ("War Stories") be unlocked but not the close-combat ones? River's condition in the series was portrayed as fluid and unstable because she had been stripped of her ability to process the immense amounts of perceptions and knowledge flowing through her mind, and I don't think the film conveyed this terribly well at all.

From the same scene, I was unfond of the use of a "safeword" to keep River in check. While it's conceivable the people who smuggled River out could have given Simon that information, it makes no sense that he wouldn't have used it at multiple points earlier, and it also suggests a greater understanding of what was done to her than he possessed. Additionally, to paraphrase lucael, that device is a little too much god for my machine.

Also, what in hell happened to "I can kill you with my brain"? Best damned line in the series, and nothing resembling a psychic attack at any point in the film. I suppose the line could have simply meant that her vast intellect and psychic abilities better enabled her to make fatal physical attacks, but that's rather disappointing.

And damnit, I wanted "two by two, hands of blue"! Those pursuers were creepy; the Operative, however daunting, was still a much more straightforward opponent.

All right, on to the Reavers (don't worrry, we'll swing back to River). To start, there's always a danger in actually showing your bogeyman, as imagination is inherently more frightening, and explanations also diminish fear by bringing the horror within the reach of understanding. Second, the Reavers were less formidable than presented in the series. The chase scene near the beginning of the movie went on entirely too long; it wasn't easy, but still far easier than it should have been. Similarly, they should not have been able to hold out so long in the ending fight; it was clear if not for River they all would have died, but they ought not to have been able to stay alive long enough for her to kick into action, nor taken so many Reavers with them.

I was really not fond of the explanation that a drug was responsible for the creation of the Reavers. A chemical is an easy way out, a clear, external distinction between such beings and ourselves. The Reavers went from Book's description of "men gone mad on the edge of space" (followed by Jayne's "Reavers ain't men") to "men on mind-altering drugs." No more lurking spectre of what might happen to your mind, or your companions', too long and too far out "in the black." I hated the depiction of Reavers as animals, ravening beasts, not as men. Gone was the horror of beings who were not animals, not aliens, not Other, but men who could choose to do such things. Again, the Reavers were distanced, removed, lessened. The heaping of atrocities one atop the other in the film - rape murder, and cannibalism, all simultaneous, nearly approached ludicrous, far less horrifying than a slow, malevolent, deliberate process. Could one believe the Reavers of the film capable of murdering all on a ship but one, forcing that one to watch, piling all the bodies on a giant meathook for the crew of the next ship to come along to find, and leaving a trap so that crew would not leave alive either? Do they seem at all capable of that level of malice? Give me ravening beasts any day.

This brings us to a point made by madraxus: how are the Reavers of the film intelligent enough to pilot spaceships? Another very good point of his: no government would ever allow Reavers to exist in their jurisdiction. Terrible for PR, bad for commerce, it goes on. If the Alliance knew the Reaver homeworld, and that a fleet of them could be discovered in that place at any time, why in hell not just send in a few battle cruisers? As primal and terrifying as Reavers are, they could not stand up to a consolidated, disciplined attack from a far technologically superior force. The impression in the series is that Reavers are too isolated, not cohesive enough, for any concerted attack. The most one can do is park ships out in frontier space, trying to establish a presence, and we see several Alliance vessels in just this position ("Serenity," "Bushwacked," "Safe," etc). The situation in the film does not make sense.

Returning to "whimsical in the brainpan": I admit, the River/Reaver thing seems quite obvious in retrospect, and Chris has missed few opportunities to remind me he called it before seeing any of the series. I'm not entirely sure what I think of it, though. On the one hand, it is horrifying that the Alliance cut up a teenage girl in order to clean up their own mess, dealing with one atrocity by committing another. On the other, is that more horrifying than the notion that they would experiment on a child with no specific objective in mind, just as another military development, basically because they could? I haven't yet decided.

Another iffy moment: as I watched the end image of River's fight with the Reavers, as she's standing in the center of the room, head down, blade dripping, as Alliance forces break down the door, I was trying to decide if it was anything other than pure, unadulterated fan service. Still not entirely sure, but I'm inclined to say yes.

Lacking a good segue way, another discontinuity: contradicting Kaylee's accusation on Haven, it was not Mal's doing she and Simon never got together. Case in point, "Jaynestown":

Kaylee: Things are going well.
Mal: Oh . . . . [walks away, no longer trying to drag her away]

I see this as furthering the attempt to portray Mal as a piece of scum, yet again absolutely unnecessary.

Again randomly, the dead nerve cluster at the conclusion of Mal's battle with the Operative was another deus ex machina, easily avoided by mentioning this deadening at any point previous.

On top of all this, while some of the dialogue was classic razor-sharp-witted Joss, some of it was hackneyed to the point I was wincing in my seat. The most glaring example is Mal's accusatory speech to Inara - "You spin me around!" etc. Tortuous. Also, while one of Firefly's strengths was deftly handled, unconventional exposition, Jayne's explanation of Reavers was clunky and heavy-handed, not worthy of Joss' best at all.

Also not sure what I thought about at least one of the deaths - Book's was handled well, but I'm trying to decide if Wash's sudden, senseless death contributed to the dark theme of the piece or if it was just badly done and extraneous.

Amazingly enough, there were things about the film I liked. The tension was kept high throughout; I probably gouged marks in my arms from cluching them the entire way through. (Then again, a good deal of that may be because of all my excitement since I first heard the film was being made.) I was very pleased that we finally answered the question, "What the hell is up with Book?" Being a former Operative, black ops, explains every odd moment in the series. I might have been somewhat annoyed to have all mysteries explained if the character had lived, but as he did not, I am glad of it. In stark contrast to what was done with Mal, I really liked the character development with Jayne - I got the definite sense of "he may be an asshole, but he's our asshole." The Jayne of the beginning of the series would never have said to Simon, "I appreciate all you've done for your sister, but she's not my sister," especially as Jayne previously never missed an opportunity to needle Simon. His choice to attempt to restrain River in the bar, rather than simply shoot her, was also impressive. One could say that was because he know Mal would literally kill him if he brought harm to River, but at that point Mal had already repudiated River and Simon from his crew and his protection. I got a kick out of the fact that in the final battle Jayne was the one holding everyone together, as Mal was gone and Zoe was half-crazed in grief. There was some very good dialogue, worthy of the series' best - my particular favourite is probably Mal after his communication with Inara:

Mal: Did you see us fight?
crew: No.
Mal: Trap.

Kaylee, Wash, etc throwing popcorn at the image of Mal pitifully backing out of acknowleding his feelings to her was also delightful. Other quips throughout also recalled Firefly at its finest (although these contrast sharply with the hackneyed bits mentioned above). <lj user="bingblot> made a good point about how graceful River is to watch in action, probably owing to the fact that Summer Glau was a prima ballerina before turning to acting. There were probably a few other things I liked, but none are coming to mind at the moment. Then again, I'm exhausted and distinctly this side of not sober. My greatest disappointment, as stated before, was how much the film fell into conventions. I will watch it again, and offer a final verdict based on such. Right now, I'm going to bed.</lj-cut>