Showing newest 5 of 9 posts from May 2009. Show older posts
Showing newest 5 of 9 posts from May 2009. Show older posts

Thursday, May 28, 2009

HERE COMES THE LOVATO STREET TEAM IN A BULLET-PROOF VEST

Yeah, TWITTER JOKES. That's what you get on this blog now. INSIDE JOKES. FROM MY TWITTER. YES. THAT'S RIGHT.

Remember back in two thousand SIX when I presciently profiled one Ms. Miley Cyrus like the week that her show debuted knowing full well she would take over the world? The write-up was enthusiastic but professional, I thought.

Anyway, it's more than three years later (wait, really?) and I totally missed the boat on Demi Lovato. It's a different time, y'know? But she's better than Miley Cyrus, no foolin', and according to her TWITTER, new alb is due in July.

MY NEW ALBUM NAME IS..........

It'll be titled after a track from the album, "Here We Go Again." Wooo hooo!!!!

I can promise this album is going to be a lot better than the last, and it's definitely more "me" :)

Comes out JULY!!!! Keep your eye out for it!!!! And this summer on tour I'll be performing so many songs from my new record... Come see me!


And no, I'm not going to provide critical commentary OR little MS Paint heart-adorned desktop wallpaper templates (I don't even own a PC anymore! THE TIMES!!!). I'm just going to reblog Demi Lovato's tweets wholesale. And now I'm going to go form a band called Lovato's Tweets. Or maybe a coffee shop. I haven't decided yet.

...Oh, OK, ONE wallpaper for old times' sake.




Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Pandora Finds

Hey, look, Pandora still works. Haven't listened to my Teenpop Mega Hyper Sugar Set in ages! Here are the new ones, though the station is playing a TON of stuff I've already thumbs-upped. Kind of defeats the purpose of the station, doesn't it? (Pass = play but don't thumbs up.)

Expand/Hide (Part 1)

Britt Nicole - "When She Cries" (2007): Another Xtian popper with a Kelly C. chorus, a coupla strings in the background. Theory: almost every Kelly C.-inspired Christian artist carries on the Breakaway (more specifically "Since U Been Gone") tradition better than Kelly herself. Pass.

The Pretenders - "Tradition of Love" (1986): Wow, I know next to nothing about the Pretenders. Steady midtempo rock chug, Chrissy Hynde particularly tremolo on this one, not much to write the home about, except that I think she's doing an interesting melody line in the verses. Play, but borderline thumbs down.

Jesse McCartney - "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" (2004): Sounds exactly what you think it sounds like. Skip.

Sara Bereilles - "Love Song" (2008): You've already heard this one. Better convo than I'm willing to have now here. Thumbs up.

Smashing Pumpkins - "1979" (1995): Already thumbs-upped, but let us not forget that the sound of teenpop grl-rock verses from approx. 2004-2007 was almost exclusively shaped by this song.

Selena Gomez - "Cruella De Vil" (2008): Not bad, though not as good as Skye's (or Lalaine's) version of the same song -- makes the mistake of changing the melody on a sort of made-up pop chorus, which makes the song a lot more generic. Also annoying, she pronounces it "Cruella DEE Vil." I haven't heard much Selena Gomez (she of Disney and Demi Lovato BFF fame) but I did like "Bang a Drum" from the Another Cinderella Story OST. Borderline thumbs up.

Clique Girlz - "Then I Woke Up" (2008): Never actually heard the reformed and ramped-up Clique (now Clique Girlz -- follow the continuing saga). Mediocre early Duff-rock with really nothing singing (even for Duff-rock!). Docked points: electrobeat on verses sounds like it's coming straight from the keyboard, sez "Dr. Phil won't you please help me," chorus tells us that she's a "hip-hop queen...I'm so bling bling." You are so not. Thumbs down.

Jesse McCartney - "How Do You Sleep" (2008): This one's really grown on me, ingratiating plink-hook + sweep synth and basic handclap beat, Jesse somehow maturing from teen-doing-preteen to twentysomething-doing-teen. Maybe he'll make it to early Timberlake by the time he reaches 40? Thumbs up.

Usher - "Nice and Slow" (1997): Don't know any early Usher. Pre-nastee R. Kelly moves, but a bit more babyfaced. Oh wait, this chorus sounds familiar. Have I heard it, or just a million songs that sound exactly like it that I also can't remember? Thumbs down.

The Sounds - "24 Hours" (2006): Tegan and Sara with a bit more electro underneath? Hm, I seem to remember other stuff by them on this station that I liked, so I'll let it pass. Pass.

Vicky Breecher - "Yesterday, Today, and Forever" (2006): Another Christian girl-rocker, except this time there's WAAAAAY too much Jesus. Didactic and gross. Thumbs down.

Lady Sovereign - "Love Me or Hate Me" (2006): Reminds me how good her little low-tech earworms sound with some real production muscle behind them -- it's the one thing that's missing from "I Got You Dancing," and a few others on the album ("Pennies" especially), which could stand to sound as oddly massive as this one, I think. Thumbs up.

Lady GaGa - "I Like It Rough" (2008): Totally passable electropop -- reminds me that on the whole her album is enjoyable if you just kind of tune her image out. And as I said in today's Singles Jukebox, that's actually quite easy. Likeable, and as usual I really like the synths, but still just a pass.

Jem - "Save Me" (2004): I've been casually avoiding hearing Jem because I don't want to keep getting her confused with the cartoon of the same name (her of the Holograms). Actually I've been casually avoiding it for the same reason I casually avoid everything else: I have better things to do at any given second in my life. Anyway, it's Tashbed 7.0. Ah, that wasn't so hard. Pass.

Paula Abdul - "Dance Like There's No Tomorrow" (2008): Holy shit, did Paula Abdul just dish out some beyond-decent '08 via '80s hazy Autotune bliss?? Yes. Yes she did. (What on earth did Randy Jackson do on this song? As far as I can tell there's not any bass.) Thumbs up.

Daechelle - "Fearless" (2007): OMG, the "Fearless" meme refuses to go away. That's awesome, because I plan to use it well into 2010. I'm...y'know, unafraid. Bold. Brave. Free of misgivings. A decent sub-Jojo verse gives way to less-decent aspirational soarin' chorus. The track is from the solid Bratz Movie OST, launching pad of sorts for Prima J and Clique Girlz. Pass.

Billie - "Because We Want To" (1999): Starts off promisingly with brat-rap call and response, then devolves into some middling American Idol auditioning w/ pseudo-soul Xtina growling, though interestingly it seems to slightly pre-date Xtina herself. Disappointing, but a pass.

Colbie Callait - "Feelings Show" (2007): Dear Pandora: Stop trying to make me listen to Colbie Callait. I ALREADY SAID NO. Thumbs down.


Sigh, that's enough for now -- more later perhaps.

...OK, here we go again...

Expand/Hide (Part 2)

Xscape - "Who Can I Run To" (1995): 90s R&B...that...um...hey, the song has been over for one minute and I can't remember a note of it. It was OK though! Pass.

Erykah Badu - "Next Lifetime (Live)" (1997): Interesting to compare this to her latest live album, which is excellent -- this one jams out further and...er, jammier than the new one, yet the new one feels much more intimate than this, weirder, a bit more special. Erykah's voice has weathered nicely in the interim, a more cracked, throatier delivery. This one is a bit too smoove by comparison and doesn't have any of the grit of the newer performances, from the standard syncopated bass and twinkling clav to the special (multiple) breakdowns for back-up singers...rolling plains to the new album's craggy moonscapes. Pass.

John Legend - "Green Light" (2008): Wow, they managed to pick the one John Legend song I actually like and/or remember. Like Lauryn Hill's "Lose Myself," the backing bounce provides a perpendicular complement to John Legend's silky croon. Like slathering butter all over "Hey Ya." Andre 3K, who makes a nice appearance here, isn't credited on Pandora but really helps take the track over the top. Big thumbs up (wow this should have been somewhere on my singles list last year).

Ne-Yo - "Mad" (2008): Daaaaaamn, Pandora's on a ROLL. Fave song from Year of the Gentleman except maybe the dishes one, which I like conceptually more than actually. Sigh, I do that a lot, don't I? But hey, I can admit when the tune just destroys, as it does here. His fractured harmonies come in so masterfully it's like an auto kaleidoscope effect was applied. Would that this really existed (I actually have heard this effect before, in a demo of an ungodly expensive keyboard at some kinda industrial piano/keyboard fair), and became the new Autotune craze. Thumbs up.

Keri Hilson - "Get Your Money Up" (2009): Once again picks one of my favorite songs from an album I'm still lukewarm on. Keri spits and swaggers to the digi version of the "Turnin' Me On" tubas (which is to say...uh, y'know, a low synth). In fact, this basically is the lower-rent "Turnin' Me On," but it's an efficient little below-the-radar flier, which is what I wanted more of on the album (Keri herself being a somewhat below-the-radar sneak-attack personality in the minidiva tradition). Thumbs up.

Chris Brown - "You" (2007): Amazingly, Pandora has managed to update my tastes almost exactly the amount of time I haven't been paying attention to it. "You" is pretty much the dividing line (the moment in 2007 or so when Chris Brown unquestionably became THEE uber-hip pre-teen music referent for...y'know not-white-upper-middle-class girls, as evidenced in OFFICIAL RSRCH I has done). Is neither better nor worse than any other (good) Chris Brown track. The world will miss him, that talented little piece of shit. So, uh, is country music basically like the Cayman Islands of identity reformation? Miley, Hootie, Chris Brown...

Cascada - "Truly, Madly, Deeply" (2006): AUUUUUUUUUUGGGHGHHGHGHGHGHH!!! OOM-CH-OOM-CH-OOM-CH-oom/ch/oom/ch/oom/ch/oom/ch SCOOTER.....er, CASSSSSCAAAADAAAAAAHHHHHHH! YES YES YES EYS YES YESYESYSETYESYESESTYESYESSSSSSSSSSTHUMBS UP! (Read this excellent piratemoggy post for reference.)

Basshunter - "Professional Party People" (2008): Haha when they tried to play stuff that DID NOT BOSH for three tracks, my vetoes were so swift & painful that they played this to appease me. And it worked! PS bonus points, this album is called LOL d[-_-]b. Thumbs UP UP UP.

OK, they've killed the bosh with yet another dose of Smashing Pumpkins "1979." Love this song but I'm glad that they've built in a SNOOZE button (go one month without playing it -- Pandora does get stuck in repetitive ruts pretty frequently still).


A few of these songs that I've long since thumbs-upped (esp. Mandy Moore's "Candy") reminds me that Poptimists is beginning a year-by-year BEST OF THE 00's poll pandemonium, ending (obvs.) with 2009 closer to the end of the year. 2000 Singles nominations thread here, follow along via this tag.

For my part, aside from participating I'm going to do another attempt at Year of Jop-style personal discussion to break down the decade, which was definitely the most formative of my music experiences, intellectual approach to music criticism, etc. etc. etc. So yes, IT WILL BE ABOUT TEH ME. I'll keep it under the "History of Jop" tag so'se you can get my whole makeshift musical autobiography by clicking the tag. 'Course this whole site is my music autobiography, I guess, but that stuff actually has capital-A autobiography material in it.


Tuesday, May 26, 2009

After the Earthquake

I imagine that when the new fault lines settle on a post-Bush U.S. populace, we're going to see some major shifts, the likes of which you probably would have to go back to the 60's to see in comparable magnitude -- an expanding bubble of wealth has led to basic but profound changes in how my generation (and I'm speaking somewhat anecdotally here, but also extrapolating from various opinion polls etc.) views money and the ins-and-outs of adulthood -- everything from home ownership to credit card debt. A fundamental shift in an understood (even if you don't accept it personally) version of the American Dream. A dream not deferred, but contracted, made a bit more bite-sized. Mini-bling.

There's not a lot of Big Money to be made, nor is there a coherent culture of pride in making it (it's there, but it feels more diffuse -- just like the charts generally, there seem to be lots of smaller ways to success with fewer Big Stars). Listening to recent hip-hop, I'm struck by how out of their time most wealth boasts sound, as though they've been held over for three-plus years and are just getting first airing. The still-increasing prominence of trap-rap is a fascinating exception to this, and I'm reminded of a line on Gucci Mane Gorilla Zoe's [ha, listen to these back to back, but I think I prefer Zoe. The song is "Hood Clap," very good] album: "spend 200 on shoes, you ain't even pay your rent." That's hood, see, but it's also very much hand-to-mouth living, which carries over into the wealth. Make a lot of money fast, spend it. Now you have no money, make it again. Not at all the same as the entrepreneurial spirit of 90's pop-rap -- Rick Ross is the only one who's still doing the "executive" paradigm set by Puff Daddy in the 90's and he's just an opportunist who has it both ways (does trap cameos on Gorilla Zoe's album and sings about stocks and yacht's on his, a big-time major label rap throwback to the mid-to-late 90's); and when Rick says you gotta put your money in the stocks, you wonder first just how much money he lost. Cash in a sock is a better bet.

This is in response to what I believe is Mike's first post-Obama Clap Clap post about the new FOX show "Glee," which I provide incoherent commentary on there. Read that post first; this is largely a response.

My problems with "Glee" are functional, not conceptual, which means that I need to see more episodes before passing judgment. Pilots are notoriously sketchy, jamming unnecessary exposition through in ways that keeps characters thin and telegraphs stuff that will be explored deeper and better in future episodes. (An unfortunate lag between ep 1 and ep 2 if what I'm hearing about a return in the fall is correct; seems kind of like a death knell, but we'll see.) The show is almost asking us to bring our caricature knowledge of older high school comedies (notably Election and, as Mike points out, Bring It On; I'd also throw in some Christopher Guest, at least one of whose actors appears here) to the table to sell the majority of its jokes -- overly uptight wife works at a thinly disguised Linens and Things and has an addiction to Pottery Barn (no stated jokes), butchish cheerleading coach pours herself a power shake in the middle of a convo (overly stated joke), prissy former teacher gets on medicinal marijuana which he sells to other teachers (bizarre jokes). I guess we're supposed to find the idea of these things funny, but they're not in themselves presented in a very funny way.

The adult characters are woefully uncharismatic, particularly the lead, a kind of clean-cut Matthew Broderick in Election role who seems miscast, if not terrible. Problem is that Broderick, aside from having a fascinating, fully developed character, brought an immediacy to his role in our knowledge of where he'd been -- to see the Ferris spark dulled speaks volumes that the lead adult's fresher face (he looks like an older college student who just got out of Teach for America or something) just can't and won't speak until we know him better (and I doubt it will work even then, but hey it's not like I want shows to fail or something). The OCD guidance counselor(?) is over-written and over-played, the other characters are cartoons, and not even particularly GOOD cartoons. The most character I found was in the face of the memorialized glee club teacher until 1997 whose good-natured matronly appearance at least fit a cliche schema I already had in my head.

The lead teen characters are much better, but also underwritten -- the lead guy is another Election rip-off, except that this show doesn't understand the complexities of high school hierarchy like that one did. The jocks in Election are for the most part dumb but agreeable to the extent that someone doesn't get in their way. These jocks go out of their way to terrorize, putting a wheelchair-bound glee clubber in a porta potty to tip over, tossing very odd effeminate character Kurt (who sounds like he's undergoing estrogen therapy for a sex change operation) into a dumpster but respecting his wish to preserve his Marc Jacobs jacket. It wants to have its characters both ways -- both 21st century savvy AND completely beholden to creaky old high school stereotypes that were played out at least by 80's sex comedies if not...y'know, since forever.

More interesting in Mike's critique is this:

A key moment in the pilot is where Finn confronts his fellow football players and gives a great little speech which starts like this: "We're all losers. Everyone in this school. Hell, everyone in this town. Out of all the kids that graduate from this school, maybe half will graduate college and two will leave the state to do it." This is true, but it would have been unthinkable to express such a thing earlier in the decade. It would have violated the ethos of total committment that dominated the 00s--one which produced some great results for pop, if not so much for government. While the glee club is maybe just another competitive activity, the show is clear that it's a pretty stupid one, and all the characters except Rachel seem to know that. They do it, then, because they like it, because they get something out of it. It's smaller than cheerleading but bigger than just being a quiet nerd trying not to be noticed. I like that, even without the football player, the characters aren't just a clique to themselves, but are individuals from different circumstances doing something for the pleasure of it. What the show endorses, then, is not victory or social stasis but mastery.


This was an excellent line that felt out of character (Finn is so stupid that he doesn't even know that women don't have prostates, but he's well-versed in collegiate statistics of area kids?), but it's the spirit that gives me hope not necessarily for this show but for this idea of a moving on point, a major cultural breaking point that I think many of us in the obsessive pop-talk sphere have been searching for, sometimes fruitfully but usually not, for several years. It's the mini-bling of television, a post-downturn vision of big budget production that reflects its time, and perhaps provides some commentary, without feeling like a stale rehashing OR uncharted territory. As I said, as of right now it's mediocre, but it's a new kind of mediocre, and its mediocrities have everything to do with the particularities of its execution and just about nothing to do with the central premise, which I think Mike nails in his analysis.

I've been racking my brain for shows that absolutely could not have been made before this Now Moment, or rather in a moment that was not, let's say (somewhat arbitrarily), before the cultural shifts of a second Bush term. Not just post-9/11, but that moment where hope and enthusiasm (for many) were crushed by a feeling of the need for some significant soul-searching, perhaps political realignment (the continued ballooning of the progressive blogosphere), and at a more everyday level, changes in how one might even conceive of a future, let alone plan for it. And those things have changed even more since then, but entertainment that feels "true" to this sort of Now does seem rare.

Examples I can think of include:

*"Battlestar Galactica": I'll post about more later; those things are hard to write!

*"Arrested Development": despite Mike's suggestion that it's post-Seinfeld, I would argue that that before its actual airing, that sort of "aristocracy with its legs cut off" vision is more in line with, say, Latin American politics of a country like Argentina than the U.S. (it's like the American sitcom of Lucrecia Martel's La Cienaga) -- it was even, quite literally, about the imminent collapse of the housing bubble, as we stopped to consider whether or not these homes were actually going to be worth anything, and saw what happens to the wealthy whose money are tied up in rapidly deteriorating systems of what basically amounts to constant money laundering.

*"How I Met Your Mother": a traditional sitcom in the "Friends" mold that was unthinkable, even for the "lower-class" "Friends" rip-offs from the good ("Drew Carey") to the awful ("Townies"...remember "Townies"??) in the mid-90s. Two structural differences: (1) an extended set of "series arc" narrative expectations from the set-up of the show (he will eventually reveal Something Big to us, even if individual episodes are more random -- it's "leading somewhere," not struggling year to year to justify its existence) and (2) a more modern conception of courtship that starts to pull marriage down from thirtysomething to late-twentysomething, which is a small but significant shift. It's not NORMAL in this show to consider 40-year-olds who just haven't found the right person; there's a sense of importance in some kind of traditional family unit that "Friends" developed very late, mostly due to the fact that they'd run out of other ideas and twists, and that "Seinfeld," much to its credit, never adopted at all. As far as content goes, more on "HIMYM" later, we're still doing ketchup on the series, but it's pretty awesome.

*"Reno 9-11": typical of the (re?)professionalism of improv comedy in the 00's that followed a bottoming out of I-M-P-R-O-V in the late 90's/early 00's with the new "Whose Line." I would argue that "Reno" is less influential but perhaps more makeshift-canonically important than the U.S. "Office" (though not the UK "Office") in both the comparatively radical nature of its subject matter (blue collar workers whose personalities, not simple caricature types, have been long since set) and form (collapses distinction between sketch comedy and coherent episode narrative). And it has a lot of "Glee"'s own archetypes: the post-Beyonce diva, who in "Glee" actually more closely resembles Jennifer Hudson's character in Dreamgirls, Effie; more complex "butch woman" whose sexuality is kind of beside the point; ditto for "gay man" (this is one thing that "Glee" royally botches in the pilot).

There are also writing-on-the-wall shows, notably "Freaks and Geeks," which may well be the most counter-intuitively influential television show of the first half of the decade, and "Daria," which seems to lampoon the early 00's with a jaded eye backward from after the early 00's, but without a kind of cautious optimism that characterizes present work. It's a quintessential 90's show, and yet its skewering of incipient 00's culture is so astute that it resonates with me now, like a faint signal from c. 1997, anticipating that things could get much much worse, and fuck, some day you're actually going to be nostalgic for this moment, so watch your back. I kind of want to include "Malcolm in the Middle" in this category, but don't think I will.

If anyone can think of any others, feel free to float yer theories.

What we're seeing now, I think, is the fall-out of a few of these zeitgeists, and a deeper ingrained feeling of the dawn of a new era (for better or worse) in the DNA of these shows. It may be clearer in television than it is in movies -- which feel particularly dead zone in recent months, maybe years -- or in music, where the industry itself is in too much disarray to understand any smaller narratives coherently. Industrially speaking, television is probably the one media industry that can comfortably fly below the radar of economic upheaval without clinging frantically to its various channels of funding (movies just take too much damn capital up front) or diffusing beyond linear, maybe monocultural?, coherence (the music industry just takes too LITTLE capital up front).

I think the first shift I noticed was probably in children's television: there's a LOT of "High School Musical" -- the version that was as cool for teenagers as it was for their little brothers and sisters -- in "Glee," but there's also a lot of mini-bling in other children's programming. Unlike the hyper-rich parallel universes of HSM and "Hannah Montana," shows like "iCarly" and "True Jackson VP" and "Sonny with a Chance" throw legitimately middle-class characters into slightly more upscale situations. But in all three cases, the emphasis is on their demonstrable abilities over assumed abilities ("Sonny with a Chance" vs. "Hannah Montana") and their rags-to-riches success through unconvential, sometimes Internet-based, popularity mobility (as opposed to social or economic mobility, which are kind of beside the point for "SwaC" and "iCarly" from what I've seen). These shows more often rely on "doing your best" over "achieving your wildest dreams." This is a positive development in children's entertainment, and I'm not sure how much is luck of the draw (of Demi Lovato's own appeal as a post-Kelly Clarkson everywoman to Miley Cyrus's "we will launch you now!" trajectory) and how much genuinely reflects a cultural shift.

Then there's "Glee," which reminds me most not of Bring It On or Election (though there's a LOT of Election in it) but Sugar & Spice, underrated and on the whole merely good but darkly funny and genuinely smart in a distinctively 00's sorta way (for one thing, I can't imagine a subplot based on a girl's puppy crush on Conan O'Brien before the 00's). It was a bit like old stereotypes refusing to click nicely back into their sanctioned positions due to no real fault of the creators -- subtle cultural shifts altering slightly how character details could be filled in, how narratives could resolve, how dialogue could be written, in just so many little ways that it honestly felt like a whole new bag.

And I guess that's my hope and fear for "Glee" in a nutshell -- that the creators aren't so committed to the high school hierarchy cookie cutters that all of the little details that they get right almost unconsciously will eventually be smoothed out in favor of what's already safe. You can see the potential for staleness in the stereotypes that don't work (the cruel jock extras, the prissy former glee club teacher, the meathead coaches), but you can also see potential in the ways that the main characters do work, the contemporary particularities of their situations, which sometimes are painfully forced (sez the [white] lead Rachel: "my two dads, one white and one black, are gay and mixed their sperm, so I don't know which is the real father yuk yuk!"), may lead to something that can transcend the cookie cutter. But I doubt it -- most great shows don't need the cookie cutter, even as a set of training wheels.

One that does spring to mind as a show that seems to have at least found its legs is "Parks and Recreation," which absolutely could not have happened before Now -- esp. considering one of the main characters is a longtime government appointee whose sole goal is to dismantle the government, because he doesn't believe in it. That this character is so natural in our culture that it's an obvious source of parody is telling, though this guy has (appropriately) probably been there since Reagan. I'm hoping Mike writes on this one -- he probably likes it more than I do, but I think it's dealing in many of the Big Ideas he's sketching out in that piece.


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Battlestar Galactica, Post 2

Once again, there are TONS AND TONS AND TONS of spoilers ahead. Look away! You have been warned!

Re: webisodes -- I haven't seen any of them. I'll probably watch them at some point, but apparently they're where it becomes clear that Gaeta is gay (which is a nice touch, since I assumed it anyway) and a few things on New Caprica are elaborated. Not sure how many other webisodes there even are. But honestly knowing there are more gay characters erases the lingering issues I had with Cain's sexuality -- there are so many more important factors in that situation that sexuality is actually the least provocative thing going on, which in itself is a sort of statement, I guess. The issue with hetero dominance in the show, more later, isn't literal, anyway, it's really more about the power dynamics within given (usually hetero but not just BECAUSE they're hetero) relationships.

Be sure to continue reading the comments in the previous thread for more talk about Gaeta, the prez/Adama, Dee, and especially CAIN and her role in the series. (There's a bunch of excellent counterpoint to the original post down there from Girlboymusic and Alex.)

Anyway, onward to some of the good stuff, some of the bad stuff (ARROWS!!!!) and more disagreement (hopefully).

---------------

Cut for Spoilers: Ch-ch-ch-changes and Magic Arrows!
Before/After Changes and Why They Work

Most characters in the show split into easy before/after binaries that are nonetheless pretty complex. The revelation of the Final Five is a big one, but actually not the most interesting one (I except one character from that) -- also interesting are changes in main characters whose roles either change significantly (Lee) or whose characters themselves seem to change significantly (Adama).

Ellen Tigh: Had a long convo with Emily about this last night, and one thing that I think we agreed on is the fact that Ellen's comeback as a mastermind works, both in explaining a personality that seems to be at odds with just about everything else about the show through much of its run, and also in giving us a credible link to an important narrative element in the finale (the role of the Five). Her return on the base ship and convo with Cavil is interesting, in that almost the entire episode consists of nothing but exposition, yet it's riveting, not just because we're filling in lots of little gaps in understanding. We're literally rebooting a character, as though we're watching a progress bar and anticipating what happens when we get to 100% -- nu-Ellen is also kind of "filling in" her old character, helping to explain what the hell was going on there. New Ellen makes sense because we've been following Old Ellen, and Old Ellen makes more sense in retrospect when we know about New Ellen. In a way, Ellen is the only one of the five who really works -- the others seem either arbitrary or regrettable (just when Tigh's pirate character is getting his sea legs...)

Gaeta: I really like Gaeta. I said in the comments, in response to Nia's discussion of Dee (see those for a more sympathetic and symbolic view of her role than I give) that Gaeta is like a spine for the ship (utterly "professional," seems to know everything when other characters don't, as opposed to Dee who herself brings not her own knowledge support but a kind of facilitator role to the proceedings) but is himself spineless. Which isn't strictly true -- he's feeding the resistance info from the inside on New Caprica, sure, but what I mean is that he seems to have a certain sanctimoniousness, or maybe more reductively brattiness, that doesn't quite undercut his actions, but undercuts perception of him as a noble nerd. So that even though I buy his transformation into a sort of freedom-fighter vigilante/pompous Latin American dictator figure (discussion of the role of Latino characters versus echos of Latin American politics later) (Emily didn't like the transformation so much) I also suspect that it has as much to do with sour grapes about the leg and his general lot as it does with his actual beliefs.

And in a way, he's a good representative figure for crew morale at that point: personal bitterness conflated with pseudo-philosophy about how things should be. This points to an interesting facet of one of the show's own foremost principles, which is that personal bitterness leads to bad decision-making (the Cain Principle), and the bitterness itself tends to destroy the validity of the underlying philosophy justifying the philosophy (echos of anti-civil rights rhetoric abound once we accept the Cylons as near-human, or near enough not to matter). Which isn't strictly true -- bitterness can breed OK policy; policy is policy regardless of how you get there. Emotionally, that is -- it makes a huge difference if you decide you need to kill half the military to achieve your goals; most of the final coup is tainted philosophically from the fact that everyone turns into a fucking maniac halfway through...and hey, let's kill ALL OF THE DIPLOMATS just in case you had any lingering suspicion anyone was getting out of this one. Subtle! The important thing, though, is that shit gets done within what I'll call an imperfect but reasonable democratic framework (which is an aspect of the show I'll talk about in a bit).

Lee: The first thing I noticed about Jamie Bamber in the miniseries was that he was obviously a British person doing an American accent (IMDB corroborated my suspicion). At first I thought it was going to ruin the series for me, but it actually (very quickly) became a nice touch in his character (his accent got better as he went along, too). Lee is a pretty boy, someone who is naturally gifted but is (also) handed everything he's ever gotten. But of course we don't object to this on principle, generally speaking, on the show or for plenty of us in life -- he's basically a Kennedy. Actually, he's a bit of an amalgam of Kennedy intellectual aristocracy (his grandfather the defense lawyer) and military aristocracy, not sure what the comparison point would be. His tight-lipped, throaty American English (in a few years he could be a more foppish Hugh Laurie) is evocative of the giant pole (silver spoon?) he has up his butt at all times, one that he was born with.

This makes him a good foil for Kara because it never allows them to fall into Prince Charming mode: even if they made overtures to a sort of pseudo-empowered version of Prince Charming, it wouldn't work. Lee isn't really a man's man -- he's more of a boy's man (or a "girl's man" in the boyband sense), oddly unthreatening, no great alpha male and not even really a beta male (what comes after beta?). One reason I think he starts to find new roles on and off the ship, particularly in Season 4 (when he gives up the military altogether) but hinted at as early as becoming Roslin's military advisor, is, aside from the more obvious family drama stuff (get back at dad!!!!) because Helo is back from Old Caprica and around to fill the role Lee seemed to want to play in Season 1: the clean-cut all-American benevolent military presence. Also the guy who might conceivably fix the sink.

But there's something gentle, maybe even prissy, about Lee's general demeanor (I suspect that Kara likes him for having distinctively feminine traits while still being super-masculine, i.e. reminds her of herself) and he becomes somewhat superfluous as a military figure, or even as a meaningful authority. (He's not ready for the presidency at the time he has to inherit it, but luckily the presidency is...dissolved, I guess? I'll talk about the ending last, obvs.) Knocking him out of a uniform altogether late in the series is a huge risk that, I think, pays off from a writing perspective: it keeps his character fresh, puts him slightly out of his league, and continues a bizarre trajectory of being handed high positions almost by default without us, or the fleet, seeming to care that much. This is fairly true to the reflective nature of the show -- despite not coming from an aristocratic background (Lee claims he joined the military to put himself through college) after the attack he becomes one of the few truly aristocratic characters on the show -- that is, a class of people for whom great things are destined rather than earned, and not in a Magic Arrow sorta way.

Athena/Boomer and Six: Grace Park might be the best young(ish) actress on the whole show -- she's able to give shades of character that are fully-formed without resorting to various caricatured traits. Boomer and Athena are both our entry points into understanding the human qualities of the Cylons. And in a way, the 8 is the only character who can make the Cylon/human conflict have a tangible philosophical relevance early enough for it to really stick (though the Pegasus episode adds a new dimension to it by introducing a startling level of physical and sexual violence, a major shift from bloodless killing and the occasional ineffectual waterboarding) -- you don't ask questions about "what makes us human" etc. with any of the other Cylons, excepting a few models of Six (still, her dual [tri? quadra? quint?] role as guardian angel remains a mystery through the series, and of course she's introduced as the ultimate femme fatale robot slash random baby-killer. Though we recognize later that this was a mercy kill, or something).

I was impressed with just how different Mao/Gina Six is from Caprica, though -- when Gaius tries to sleep with Gina, I want to throttle him -- "THEY'RE NOT ALL THE SAME!" (An important moment in the show for me.) Generally the Cylon stories are given short shrift, and it's never totally clear how the Cylons work -- they can download each other's memories and effectively become the exact same as a different Cylon, but they possess some element of free will in making their own decisions and identities. They all vote in unison, except for the one time one 8 votes against the others (is it still majority rule, or does this "extra" 8 count as a whole new category of votes? My guess is the latter). Boomer/Caprica are leaders of some kinda peace movement until New Caprica, at which point they basically forget about it and enslave the human race (er, colonize; we've moved beyond mere slavery as the fulcrum of action, I guess? Does that count as progress?). Oh, and then Boomer joins up with Cavil on the Dark Side and fights to wipe everyone out again. (Wait, what?) It's messy. But the performances of our two Humany-Cylons through the whole thing is strong enough to support the flimsy exposition. I recognize, e.g., some of the original Boomer even in Evil Boomer, and the schamltzy suburban fantasy she and Chief have is genuinely affecting -- I didn't care so much about her motives for going all Superevil.

Adama: At first it seemed wrong to get to know Adama more intimately -- I think the first thing we see after the first Earth fiasco is him getting dressed and brushing his teeth, the only non-symbolic (i.e. not facial hair related) personal routine we see of him in the entire show. As we get to know him as a person, we start to lose sight of him as a Great Man: he drinks too much, he's kind of a softie, he makes a ton of small bad decisions when he's not in the CIC proclaiming "difficult but fair" decisions. But y'know what I'll talk about Adama later. Too big of a fish to fry, along with Roslin and Gaius and Tigh/Chief/Helo/everyone-else-I-missed.

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TOP TEN SEVEN MAGIC ARROWS!

The Magic Arrows began with an actual magic arrow -- the one that takes all of the characters to an enchanted planetarium, in which they will have to commit to memory a series of constellations that they can map into their nav systems and find a course that will lead them to the home of the original tribe of blah blah blah blah. This gets complicated.

But it's also largely a contrivance to keep the ship MOVING, to keep it going toward something resembling a Big Plot Point. Ultimately I think the Magic Arrows are the closest the show ever gets to narrative collapse, but luckily for the show the creators are (1) smart enough to know how to pick and choose their arrows sparingly (X-Files had by far more arrows for fewer mythology episodes per monster-of-the-week one-offs) and (2) they seem to have a general exit strategy, whether or not they thought so at the time. And more importantly than just having enough narrative glue to make up for the occasional ugly staple or stitch of a Magic Arrow (or Baby Blood or Warp Tune or etc. etc.), they have characters who are more important than the narrative -- in the sense that they aren't subservient to it -- but who don't also break down the usefulness of that narrative in bringing us through their journey, which would result in a kind of self-parody. But useful isn't the same as good, and I'll just say up front that there are NO GOOD MAGIC ARROWS. They always spell doom for a story line, occasionally for a character (either temporarily or in some cases permanently via DEATH SORRY), and once or twice for a season or half-season. Whatever the that 2.5 crap is all about. DAMN YOU DVD AGE.

Presented in the order I remember them. Their general worth(lessness?) isn't really calcuable (am I measuring in immediate badness or lasting impact badness?) so go to commentary for the signifance.

1. THE MAGIC ARROW (Season 1)

This one's a doozy, and kicked off the metaphor, which I inconveniently kept in my head the whole series. I've tried to keep myself from listing certain deus ex machina as Arrows (uncharacteristic character choices, convenient plot wrap-ups, etc.), since arrows are special, one-time-only Get Out of Writer's Block Free cards that allow things to move on to completely different, if not better, things.

Backstory: In a museum on Caprica there's an arrow that will do something or other according to some interpretation of scripture or something. And what with kamala turning the prez all loopy, she thinks this is a good idea, plus Starbuck is itching to get out of there right about now and test drive her cool Raider (plus she's a little religious herself, plus she's kinda guilty having left Caprica behind what with her paintings and her music and all). Sooooo go get the arrow and it will point the way to Earth!

And it does. It's stupid, but it's not too bad considering it's our first understanding of the show's mysticism-as-puzzle-film-clues. Its significance is tied in what seems to be a halfway point my and Nia's interpretation of Roslin's religious enlightenment, between what I hurriedly claimed was a temporary mystical bent of the president and what Nia more accurately claims as a major Roslin character shift -- letting her policies be driven by religious prophecy.

But the show handles this fall-out of the arrow pretty well, and they don't cheat politically -- Roslin certainly, unlike Gaius's messianic dabblings, believes in religion wholeheartedly at this point (it gives her imminent death an in-the-moment righteousness that foreseeable death from illness doesn't usually allow), but the fleet is pretty starkly split on the issue, along already-religious lines. We recognize that the prophecy stuff is good for the plot (God knows how to read ahead, I guess), but we also recognize (along with Adama, who maybe overplays his hand too quickly but hey, it's the season finale, right?) that you can't be ruled by a religious demagogue. Even one who is demonstrably calculating her potential for electoral success because of the RELIGIOUS NUTJOB VOTE (I see no contemporary parallel). This superficially makes Roslin part Bush goofball and part Rove tactician, but she's still balanced with a healthy dose of liberal pragmatis. She still wants there to be a functioning constitutional democracy and doesn't grant herself special presidential powers -- she does keep church and state separate in the rule of law. And frankly her religious visions are harmless as far as religious visions go (don't forget we had an acting president whose visions told him to wage a crusade on the Middle East). The visions just kind of point the fleet in a direction, which they would have chosen arbitrary anyway -- she's not ordering anyone to re-populate Caprica and claim it as the new Holy Land to incite the Rapture, say.

So the arrow itself is a functional little compass that, though clumsy, is almost entirely useful in simply nudging the ship in a direction. It's like the lame "encyclopedia" that explains the process of transferring consciousness in Being John Malkovich -- we don't ask too many questions of the device because we appreciate the map.

MAGIC ARROWNESS (i.e. immediate convenience to head-smack dumbness ratio): 90%
THREAT TO THE SHOW'S SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM (i.e. lasting impact): 50%

I place the threat to the basic narrative cohesion of the show at about half because the Arrow (1) sets up a really shaky second season that now has to deal with many mystical loose ends that are secondary to what we're primarily interested in (the human drama) and (2) it really really really doesn't make any sense. What was up with that planetarium?

2. BABY BLOOD! (Season 2)

Holy shit, the baby blood. THE BABY BLOOD. Backstory: Roslin's about to die of cancer. Battlestar is renewed for two seasons (I assume). Creators decide to inject her with FETAL HALF-BREED BABY BLOOD to fix what ails her. It works! ...Until they decide to throw in the towel in Season 4 and introduce the cancer again before that season gets going.

What the fuck were they thinking with the baby blood. Seriously. I mean, if they had found a magical pill floating around Planet X6432F3 in the Mixolydian Nebula that could cure cancer but could only be consumed ONCE by ONE PERSON because it was left there 2000 years ago by a now-defunct model rebel Cylon called Pookie it would make more sense.

The problem with the BABY BLOOD is that it's not something that, like a magic arrow, goes away after you use it. The baby is still there. Presumably she still has BABY BLOOD. Why the fuck couldn't they keep a vial handy for everyone else who might ever get cancer? BSG: YOU JUST CURED CANCER. Like, you found the cure. For. Cancer. And you used it one time to make sure the prez didn't die and then expected us to just forget about it?

Shoddy, shoddy planning, BSG. Here's the thing: retroactively, the baby blood almost works as a metaphor for a struggle with cancer. Cancer often does its damage for years and years, with all kinds of strange ups and downs -- regression and attack -- and in bringing Roslin back to full health from her death bed you actually strike on something deeply true about this disease (and lots of chronic and cancerous diseases), that even when the end is near it's probably not quite as near as you think. But you did it with BABY BLOOD. Cancer already has a baby blood. It's called "I don't know why, but thank the gods I'm doing a lot better this week than I was last week." SO FUCK YOU FOR USING BABY BLOOD.

This really does start to rip open a lot of stupid, avoidable holes. Like: why weren't you people doing some fucking bloodwork to figure out how to isolate whatever the hell it was that was curing the cancer? Don't you have a single scientist besides Baltar? And didn't Baltar actually figure it out -- that the shape of the red blood cells were kinda slanted or something, and that this cures cancer?

And hey, OK, maybe the fetal blood for medical gains issue is a hot topic on your planet, too. But surely you could take some blood -- like for routine purposes -- and keep it in a super-secret emergency stash, so that we'll get something like that scene in Angels in America where the guy takes all of the extra prototype AIDS meds that Al Pacino's been hoarding uselessly (except in this case it will be angry patients taking it out of Roslin's fridge). And I mean for gods' sake it's not like Roslin even needed a full infusion of baby blood -- a drop seems to cure most ailments. I bet sniffing it will clear your sinuses.

MAGIC ARROWNESS: 100%
THREAT TO SHOW: 70%

3. CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA (Season 3)

Oh man, backstory: Ummmmm. Fuck. I don't even remember this one (do I even have the season right?). Except there's a temple and there's a supernova and Kara already drew it and maybe Hera already drew it and....oh hey, their names rhyme. Huh. And the 13th Tribe built a temple in its honor, under the guidance of the Final Five, who...documented a similar supernova happening 2000 years before it, so it will signal the supernova that will get them to look in the right place for the right nebula which will set off the right bells in the right "people" to find the ship that has the frequency that blah blah blah blah.

This one's more weird than anything else, I guess. It basically just provides a backdrop for a new planet and a few character revelations -- notably from Lucy Lawless, whose sudden religious fervor is more convincing than Kara's in Season 4 and Chief who has a nice character development moment as he comes to grips with some of his strict religious upbringing (of course we figure out he has other obvious connections to the temple later) -- and a reason to get back Gaius after his tenure as a sex slave (the first time around) and a reason to get back Hera (I think). It's a standard magic arrow, a wobbly Jenga piece that doesn't threaten to tip over too badly. And, as always, we don't care as much about the Jenga game as we care about the people playing Jenga. (At the end of Season 2 the Jenga tower tips over completely, and it's the best thing that ever happened to the series.)

ARROWNESS: 60%
THREAT TO SHOW: 10% (I mean, not much of a threat, but it does beg the question how "everything has happened before and everything will happen again" when the frakkin' SUN EXPLODED. And yes, that was a joke, and I'm aware that everything won't happen again exactly the same way it happened the first time. More on that later, too. The real problem/"threat" to the show was in getting rid of Lucy Lawless for so long. She was fun and I enjoyed her openly Australian accent.)

4. THE THING WHERE KARA DIES. (Season 3)

Oof. Just awful. Backstory: Kara dies. In an explosion. And then they take her name out of the credits for an episode and you don't really believe it, and then she's back as a (wink) SPECIAL GUEST STAR. Oh, you rascals!

Problem is, the character does die. The new Kara has almost zero of her old personality, and frankly she's kind of a bore. We get a one-dimensional Close Encounters-like paranoia but little in the way of character development. And they just let the loose end hang out there. Which would be fine -- I mean, whatever -- but stop trying to cover your tracks so hard! "It is the necrotic flesh of Kara Thrace!" Thanks, doctor, for robbing us of any mystery that it was, like, someone else's corpse or something. "OMG SHE SAID SHE WAS AN ANGEL AND THEN SHE ACTUALLY DISAPPEARED!!" Sigh, so I guess she wasn't the daughter of the Lost Cylon or whatever the hell that last-minute escape hatch was.

Look, Kara has a body with blood (not even BABY BLOOD!) in it, and there's a ship with frequencies in it, not to mention metal and tylium ore and probably a stick shift or something. You can tap it with a wrench. In fact, you can take it apart and put it back together again, which they did. So that ship CAME FROM SOMEWHERE. I'll extend my disbelief pretty damn far for sci-fi mysticism, but an unexplained appearance of physical matter from nothingness isn't one of them. When Ellen and Cavil have their Bond villain moment, they could have at LEAST thrown us a frickin' bone. The only possible logical (in the show's logic anyway) explanation is that the Cavil Cylons constructed the new ship, sent an either captured or at-some-point-dead-then-resurrected Kara to Earth, killed her (possibly for the second time), had her resurrected -- since the only possible explanation for THAT is that she is half Cylon by way of the Lost Cylon Daniel Whom We're Introduced to For About Fifteen Seconds in One Exposition-Heavy Episode (which means that half Cylons can ressurect, I guess?) -- then Cavil erased her memories (which we accept he alone can do), and sent her back to the Galactica. OK, fine...but otherwise you're asking me to believe in angels with scientifically documented corporeal presence who also happen to have an exact replica of a Viper ship with them. NO! I REFUSE. To believe in something that loony would cause me to lose my already tenuous grip on reality. Plus it really did kill Kara, so this Magic Arrow can fuck right off.

ARROWNESS: 70% (not 100 because there were a ton of ways they could have dealt with all of this, so it doesn't have the same one-time-only dumbness of BABY BLOOD BABY BLOOD BABY BLOOD)
SPACE-TIME FUCKERY: 100% -- the only unresolved thing in the series that really, really irks me as, y'know, a screenwriting professor or something.

5. THE MAGIC WARP FLUTE (Season 4)

Backstory: There's this song, right, and only Cylons can hear it, see, or the Five Cylons, right, and so when Kara -- whose father is probably a Cylon or something -- plays this song into a computer keyboard, which I guess is "timelessly" designed to be identical with a sideways piano even though to me it looked like a non-standard keyboard (so what if you're using a Mac instead of a PC, or a laptop instead of an adding machine etc. etc.?) (and how do you know which note to start on?) it magically warps you not to Earth, but to a nice inhabitable planet that we might as well call Earth, since it is Earth -- OUR Earth, the "real" one. This is the same device used in such classic sci-fi series as Mario Brothers 3 (two gay men dress up like woodland creatures, play the flute) and Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time (one gay man dresses up like an elf, plays the flute).

I mean, whatever. They need to find some kinda way out of there, said the joker to Chief, so in goes the cheat code, revealed to us in the previous episode, and away they go. Tidy way to get out of a nuclear explosion.

Conspiracy theory: before I even get to the significance of Real Earth in the finale, I would float the semi-crackpot theory that the entire ending of BSG is a Taxi Driver-esque ambiguous fantasy ending, a projection of viewers' desires to see the resolution we were hoping to see earlier in the season. It's OUR Earth! Yay! And they're going to give up technology and become...what, mountain men? Maybe vaguely feudal? Are we to assume they'll build a few pyramids before they give up tech for good?

Anyway, in this theory, the admiral makes one final stand against the Cylons doing what he thinks will be the Great Battle (Last Stand) he could have had to begin with. And then someone arms their nukes and accidentally blows everything to hell. Cue "We'll Meet Again." Instead, we have a warp whistle, so here's yr "proper" send-off.

I can't say that that's true, and the ending is too important, so I'll talk about that on its own.

ARROWNESS: 100%
CONTINUUM THINGY: 0% (who gives a shit at this point, I want my tearful farewells!)

6. DANIEL (Season 4)

Backstory: During a series of Big Reveals, Ellen casually discusses with Cavil a MISSING CYLON (male) whom I presume (in a logical interpretation of Kara's continued existence) to be Kara's father, the musician, who taught her the Magic Flue Warp Song. Unfortunately he's been "permanently boxed," so we don't know anything more about him than that he was sensitive and Ellen liked him.

This feels particularly spackle-like, realizing that there's at least one hole that a Missing Cylon might help fill in. Another one: Leoben tells Roslyn, "Adama is a Cylon." Which he assume by the end of the series he isn't, though he does get particularly upset when, at an interview for a gov't white-collar job he is asked if he's a Cylon to test the detector. But Adama doesn't gain anything by being a Cylon and anyway, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, so it makes more sense that Leoben was lying (even though this isn't exactly what Leoben is all about -- he's more about saying cryptic shit that turns out to be sort of true-ish).

Anyway, Daniel feels more like plot hole coverage than anything else, so his impact on the series is limited. It's annoying, though -- it makes a big difference if Kara is actually half Cylon! Not that I want to know, but I don't want it teasingly suggested and then not really committed to one way or the other. The specific post-death details I get of Kara are precisely the ones that I don't actually WANT: that that is, in fact, her flesh on the dog tag (so what? Like it's impossible to get some dead flesh on there?) and the angel stuff. Oh, and the mashed-potato-carving "something out there" homing device on Earth, which I'm just including as part of the Death Arrow generally.

MAGIC ARROWNESS: 99% (leaving 1% for the convoluted "logical" approach to Kara's disappearance)
THREAT TO SERIES: 5% for annoyance.

7. THE OPERA HOUSE (Seasons 2-4)

Y'know, this is never all that satisfying -- beautifully shot and a great little visual motif, but the resolution of it only services the plot. The significance of the "abduction" of Hera is that it leads them...to the CIC. Where everyone was headed anyway. So that Gaius can give a super-lame speech about how "what if GOD is just a word for NATURE, maaaaaan." The various prophecies are broken in several ways anyway, and they hold no real power over us in terms of narrative cohesion (after the reveal of the destruction of the first Earth) so the metaphorical weight of going into the opera house is pretty much rendered moot. Well done and edited and all that. I'm not sure what message we're supposed to take away from the opera house -- it seems to just kind of exist to give us a rug-pulling A-HA! moment at the end. But of all the loose ends they need to tie up, the significance of the opera house is probably the least interesting one. Like -- KARA. FIX HER.

MAGIC ARROWNESS: 20%, not actually used as a Magic Arrow for most of the series and an evocative little dream world we're continually spending some time in.
THREAT TO SERIES: negligible -- I mean, it was cool as an a-ha moment, it's just that the show undercuts its own faith in its mysticism before we get to this resolution, so we kind of stop caring to see how prophecies unfold. Again, prophecies are just the Jenga game -- we're invested in just watching them play it.


More Magic Arrows I'm missing here? Are some of these not really Magic Arrows as I've defined them? (Does how I've defined them make sense?)

More political resonances in the next post. This one's mostly for fangirlboyish plot geekery. (I don't have many people to chat about this stuff with.)


Monday, May 18, 2009

Battlestar Galactica, Post 1 of ?

A note on the first series: I've never seen the original "Battlestar Galactica" and have only moderate interest in seeing it now. As far as I'm concerned, the new series stands alone as a unique object of study and I don't have much interest in comparing and contrasting. This is in part because much of my appreciation for the "new" BSG is as a current political and social document, which makes the echo of how the 1978 version dealt with these themes interesting but beside the point.

A note on SPOILERS: I came across this line in an old Stanley Kauffman review the other day (he was writing about Easy Rider at the time of its release):

As for that ending, which I had better not reveal, it is a coup de theatre that tries to consummate the satisfaction of the two youths, but after the shock is over, it is seen as only a coup de theatre. Which is why I won't describe it. But when a critic can't describe an action for fear of spoiling it for a prospective viewer, that is a pretty fair index of the action's superficiality.


He's wrong -- there are a lot of pleasures to be had in first discovery, I think, that crucially help shape our reading of a film. (For instance, I've only seen every individual episode of "Battlestar" once, so much of my analysis is based on that "getting through the wilderness" experience of understanding it.) That last sentence is a handy aphorism to have to justify spoilers and smack down simplistic puzzle devices (and certainly one shouldn't approach Kauffman's criticism without expecting plots to be exhaustively spoiled) but the kernel of truth in it applies to BSG and Easy Rider specifically, not to criticism or movie/show-viewing generally. There is not a single device in this series, which I'll cover in my "Magic Arrows" section, that ever fundamentally adds to the social or emotional resonance of the series. Most are clunkily convenient, a few are inspired pieces of "puzzle film" mindfuckery, a few threaten to tear at the fabric of the series, though that's a resilient fucking fabric (like the ship itself), so maybe not. Point being, most of my discussions will only "ruin" the gimmicks, which in themselves are probably the least satisfying aspects of the show. However, it will also "ruin" the discoveries of relationships, character arcs, etc., that are powerful to watch for the first time cold.

Still, there are a ton of spoilers below. I'm going to be talking about the entire series, every plot twist (I can remember), every character relationship (I care to write about), every theme (I interpret or invent). Since I encourage anyone who can read, and anyone who can't, to see this show, take that as your only warning. Nothing is off-limits, though I'll start with enough generalizing that you'll probably stop reading by the time I get to the Arrows.

Cut for spoilers: Age After Bush and Character Issues
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The Wonky Space-Time Continuum in the Age of Obama

First things first: Battlestar Galactica is, like the new Star Trek movie, a parallel universe vision, but in a more serendipitous way (appropriate for the series) than the Smallville Enterprise. Instead, BSG, which began life in 2003 as a miniseries, is the only television work I can think of that has essentially sound-, vision-, and concept-tracked the Age of Obama before it happened. By Age of Obama, I really mean Age After Bush -- with the kind of defeated-but-hopeful, pragmatic-dabbling-in-mystical, progressive-yearning-to-"go-back" energy that anyone who even casually supported the Kerry campaign (or at least voted for him) understood on election night 2004.

Starting with such a specific political reference may seem to do a disservice to some of the more universal and longstanding political themes that come up in BSG, but in all of its (many) warts and all of its (many) triumphs, the exhilarated feeling that often followed a particularly good one-two punch of episodes over the course of the past few months (never three -- we did it once and it was like watching Tarkovsky) resembled nothing so much as the jumbled state of high hopes and cold realism and distaste for melodramatic manipulation and joy in at least feeling something that accompanied this period of time in my life.

BSG presages many issues that wouldn't be given a mainstream platform until after-the-fact, but were happening concurrently. In Season 3, BSG dealt with occupation, torture, and anti-colonial resistance not only better than every half-assed gesture toward these issues in post-apocalyptic movies like Children of Men, which might be the antithesis on BSG (more on that later, I hope); it dealt with it in one of the only sustained, politically relevant, and politically/dramatically satisfying ways I've ever seen, recalling Battle of Algiers more than Children of Men. Watch President Roslin recommend the creation of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission (most likely modeled on South Africa, not U.S.-sanctioned torture, but the situation on New Caprica is arguably more evocative of the latter) -- and then watch the Truth Commission never actually happen, not intentionally but simply because there were more important things to worry about(!) (to be fair, Baltar's trial addresses many of these issues more efficiently, if somewhat reductively) -- and try not to think of the show's relevance. BSG not only got the broad strokes right, it got the mess right. And that's in keeping with its value -- oftentimes its messes, occurring naturally from lack of foresight on the part of the writers and the sheer inability to juggle so many things at once, more accurately REFLECT life-as-it-is even as its idealism -- its PREDICTIVE streak -- argues the opposite or something else entirely.

Case in point: In Season 4, it even got breast cancer right, after seeming to botch it the first time around (see Magic Arrows). (Like many things BSG, the series is strong enough to prop up its weaknesses and, in this case, actually transforms a weakness into a retroactive strength.) The recurrence of the president's cancer leads to a debilitating, prolonged fight with the disease that as far as I know is unprecedented in any television show. Breast cancer, of course, could only be dealt with adequately in a longer format; half of the pain of the disease is in the watching, the waiting, the inexplicable improvements and devastating, sometimes sudden, setbacks. I'm usually hyper-conscious of how cancer survivor imagery is used in media only because I experienced it firsthand, too young to fully understand it but old enough for it to have a profound emotional and intellectual impact on my life. The show eventually gets it all right, in part simply by dint of doing it for so long. The dual purpose of prolonging the disease in the show -- to fulfill a (by Season 4 weirdly begrudging and obligatory) bit of mystical prophecy and to keep Laura Roslin alive until the final episode -- combines to really get at the actual dual purpose (not to be too presumptuous, this was my experience of it) of surviving in the first place; a desire to believe in magical things (that the disease might be miraculously cured) and a necessarily arbitrary goal (I just want to make it to Thanksgiving. I just want to make it to Christmas. I just want to make it to the new year.) It gives special resonance, for me, to the conclusion of the series, which I'll talk about more later.

So the sociopolitical lens through which to look at Battlestar is broken into two lenses mentioned above. The REFLECTIVE lens, though eerily prescient, places it within a complex web of political realities -- in its inclusions and its omissions -- that, though often weaknesses of the series, indelibly and powerfully mark it in time. Its omissions, in areas like feminism and a more enlightened view of human sexuality, are a product of its time, perhaps, but also remind us that BSG isn't "Star Trek" -- society as a whole is not more enlightened in BSG than we are (even at our best); if the political and legal policy messages are largely liberal/progressive, there are plenty of conservative, even reactionary, social messages. When the president of our own country can't bring himself to recognize gay marriage in his rhetoric (even if this doesn't reflect his politics or policies), the uncertain question of the role of gays in the military and Colony society is at least reflective, if not ideal by a long shot.

The PREDICTIVE lens almost invariably falls in the realm of policy. Orders, blanket pardons, bills we never read (dealing with abortion, "interracial" mixing), legal trial outcomes. And in this realm the show is firmly on the side of a modest progressive voice. Let's not forget that, e.g., prosecuting torture has only become (comparatively) a radical progressive measure in recent times, and that this is largely due to the further erosion of the two-party system at the hands of extremists in one party. The goal of a progressive torture policy is simply to return to a pre-Bush Geneva Convention standard of it that recognizes torture as illegal, period, with no significant semantic debate on what constitutes torture (an understanding that in matters of torture, the spirit trumps the letter). An 00s'-era progressive nostalgia, different from more longstanding conservative nostalgia, locates a return to more reasonable policies (a Reagan or pre-Reagan tax on the wealthy, a pre-Bush contraction of the powers of the president, etc.) both before (in the case of torture) and concurrent with (in the case of dealing with the economy) progressive change happening in the future.

BSG's politics are nearly identical. The short-term ideal is a status quo that existed -- even with its deep-seated problems -- just before the attack on the Colonies. And the show never gives up, until its dying breath, of the power of that system, since life without it is not a life worth living (according to our protagonists). The long-term ideals are generally progressive -- erasing hatred between the Colonies' ethnicities (dealt with clumsily but effectively in "The Woman King"), healing the wounds of economic colonization between Colonies (the tylium refinery; the prison episodes; the early role of Tom Zarek), and -- in a symbolic, touching gesture -- trying to rewrite the rules of law from essentially nothing save a few precious law books. This moment, when Lee Adama decides to aid the defense of Gaius Baltar, reminds us that laws are not an oral tradition, and the destruction of the literal stuff of law is its (potential) undoing (shades of the memory tubes in 1984, though for the most part BSG avoids easy post-Orwellian dystopianism in favor of an American liberal pragmatism). The poltically avoided ideals are largely social -- the roles of women in meaningful relationships (h/t girlboymusic), the roles of non-heterosexuals. The show has trickily erased most racial difference and instead posited a world in which location rather than phenotype causes inequality. To the extent to which we accept this somewhat similar (but fundamentally different from, e.g., historical U.S. conception of race in white/non-white binary) world of racial difference, there aren't many significant issues of "BSG race" (excluding Cylons as "race") that aren't at least perfunctorily addressed (e.g. the clumsy overt racism in "The Woman King").

The elephant in the room in terms of a sociopolitical argument is the Cylons. I constantly asked myself what political role they served in the show at any given point, and the most adequate answer I can think of is that they serve a political role when it's convenient and a narrative (plot-centered) role most of the rest of the time. Though well-acted, all of the "original" Cylons (no word on the Final 5 until later) except for Grace Park as Boomer/Athena (#8) and maybe Tricia Helfer as Caprica/Maoist (#6) primarily function as an easily externalized inhuman threat. Issues of humanity for all Cylons, not just ones with whom we've become accustomed as "human" characters, only happens when there is no reincarnation device, when death is death. And even then we still want the majority of the Cylons (the diabolical priest Cavil, the "mystic"-as-advanced-script-reader Leoben, Lenny and Carl, aka "the anonymous black and white duo" Cylons, mixed bag and before long moot point Lucy Lawless) to die and never come back (I mean maybe some of you like Leoben or something, but he doesn't serve any important role after his creepy housewife fantasy on New Caprica falls through). I'll mention the Cylons-as-humans-too stuff as the post goes on, but for the most part this doesn't interest me, and even in the show the cohabitation of Cylons and humans is treated as a bit of a footnote in the bizarre final post-script. Except in a few cases, most of the politics is with the humans reacting to external forces, and that is to a large degree my interest in the show's politics -- not what the Cylons represent, but what the humans do about it.

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The Bad, the Ugly, and the Disappointing: Characters

One of BSG's strengths is the way it deals with individual character psychology. Yet the show is surprisingly uneven with relationships between characters. Conversely, the seasons can differ wildly, from the promise:disappointment ratio of first half of season one with second half of one, and the assuredness:WTFness ratio of Season 3 versus Season 2 (all respectively). Season 3 absolutely towers over the others in terms of its depth, its consideration of bigger issues, and in some ways its character development. So here's a focus on characters with an eye for season arcs (not so much series arc, which will be later), divided into three categories: Ugly, Bad, Disappointing. I'm starting with weaknesses (1) because I'm reading Stanley Kauffman, whose reviews are fairly formulaic -- spoilers-problems-qualified praise-general assessment -- and (2) because in many ways the weaknesses, some of them very weak indeed, are important in considering why, as a whole, the show works as well as it does.

The Ugly: Stuttering, Puttering, and Planning in Season 2
Season 2 feels like pieces being put into place mixed with general casting about for an arc. It's a sophomore slump, not as bad as Mad Men's desperate search for a story, but a slump nonetheless. The deus ex machina-style jump-start of the series at the end of season 2 would, for any other series, probably derail things, but after the faltering of the second season we're, along with the shock, somewhat relieved to see ONE. YEAR. LATER. The founding of New Caprica is in itself the closest the writers themselves get to a Magic Arrow miracle, an inspired re-tooling that, given the unevenness of what precedes it, doesn't feel like cheating (or if it does, doesn't feel like a compromise) and wonderfully opens up the universe, along with effectively saving several characters. But let's start with the weakest characters, then episodes, then themes, many of which appear in Season 2.

Kat: The worst character in the series by a country mile; the writers just have no frakking clue what to do with Kat. She was even shaky in her marginal role (along with at least one other later quasi-incompetent but still grandfathered-in first season rookie, Hot Dog) as the shaky civilian recruited in an emergency to fill the pilot ranks. But she's far worse when her one-note acting is asked to stretch beyond resentment of being second-best; we're actually asked to believe that she has improved as a character, become stronger, when that note is just as grating as it's ever been. The writers see it, obviously, but they just can't bring themselves to off her in true BSG fashion -- an episode that starts giving us odd personal details of minor characters, which almost inevitably = DEATH, SORRY -- until far too late in the series. Whenever she's on screen, I'm completely ripped out of the series for basic reasons -- she's clearly out of her league actingwise, not only a weak presence in the company of strong character actors, but she's miscast. The only believable character trait that Kat has is that she sucks as a pilot but is the best that the military can do given the circumstances. This is a marginal role that could have used some developing -- how far can an incompetent person get before they're even incompetent by desperate standards? -- but instead they actually pit her head to head against Starbuck. This is like seeing someone sucker punch a bully at a local high school and putting her straight into a boxing ring. She is utterly slaughtered, the connection between her and Starbuck 100% false and her ending particularly ungraceful. (Remember what I said about getting cancer imagery right? Reverse that and condense into one episode.)

Poor casting is probably the number one sore spot in the series, even given all of its Magic Arrows and convenient wrap-ups and deus ex machina moments, as its the only thing that rots the series from the inside out. To continue the metaphor, the BSG series is very much like the ship itself -- largely decorative exterior (essentially a cross between a war movie, a special effects space movie, and a soap opera) is somehow stable and reliable when it's really in action, and getting to know the insides of it more intimately (and the people who run it) makes the disconnect all the more powerful. When we're reminded in the final season that they've essentially been flying around the universe in a mock-up of a battlestar (this is hinted at in the Pegasus subplot, which I'll get to in a second) some of the early themes stemming from the miniseries that we've forgotten about are reiterated. Everyone in power is there accidentally. It's an oddly affirming reminder; these people, past their prime or far FROM their prime, are doing their best and moderately succeeding just in surviving. (For all its mysticism, there aren't too many Star Wars-like "one shot destroys the Death Star" moments in BSG.)

Anyway, when the people inside that structure are rotten, it's the one thing that seems to significantly damage viewer morale, as it were. We want to want to spend time with these characters, the stock characters, the "deep" characters, the central characters, the minor characters. And the show is smart enough to know when a character isn't working, either retooling him/her or offing him/her. The latter is unpleasant but satisfying, like spring cleaning, and the show seems vaguely aware of its own machinations in cleaning house: "ah, yes, Billy just proposed to Dee! They're gonna kill him!"

Billy: Actually not as weak a character in retrospect, and one who had a lot of room for improvement and development. I do wonder whether or not he just wanted out. But I can imagine him getting much darker and more pessimistic as the series continued; his inclusion in "ugly" is for the typical gracelessness with which they disposed of him. Not as egregiously tacky as Kat's swift radiation-induced leukemia (it's almost like the writers resented Kat, and wanted her to go in the most gruesome possible way, as a -- shock! -- druggie who eventually, for her own hubris, is pretty much melted away in graphic detail), the stand-off that eventually takes care of Billy is arbitrary and false. The relationship between Billy and Dee hasn't had enough time to develop, and his impromptu proposal deserved a more lighthearted deflection. This also sets off the relationship between Dee and Lee, which doesn't work for a variety of reasons (some of which the show deals with with characteristic frankness) but also doesn't work for performance reasons. The actors just don't really work together very well, so we don't care to see them together. It holds none of the underlying tension of seeing, e.g., Chief and Cali or Kara and Sam together. As a catalyst, almost nothing good comes from Billy's death -- Dee/Lee, an unresolved civilian conflict, a lapse in the shows thoughtfulness in dealing with internal politics (we don't care enough about the faction civilians who end up killing Billy to care whether or not they live or die, which is rare in the series even for civilians who have done worse). And of course there's...

Tory: Tory worked well as a background character, and it was nice that she reflected a change in Roslin's personality in Season 2 rather than seeming to be the impetus for that change. Politics got dirtier, so did Roslin, so did Roslin's assistant. But there are cracks even in these early points: Tory seems to have far too much control; even if she were flat-out evil (as she becomes in a cheap attempt to deepen her character later) nothing is hidden from Laura Roslin. That's part of the genius of the president character -- she is always completely in control of everything, a political wheeler and dealer whose personality traits were forged dealing with kindergartners and whipping poor high school writing into something at least marginally competent (we presume). As a subordinate, Tory works just fine, but in keeping with the Russian roulette that helps decide which minor characters are going to be killed and which will be promoted to Major Characters, the show makes the terrible decision to give Tory more presence and more of a role in the direct development of the series to its conclusion. It doesn't work. Tory has no backstory, has no particularly interesting characteristics aside from assisting in dirty politics. Every character turn they give her is false to the character and, frankly, the actress can't handle them. She is self-satisfied and empowered after her Big Change. False -- she's a crony, she can't play self-satisfied from this character; this character is fundamentally a weasel. She is a reluctant temptress sent to cajole info out of Baltar. False -- of her many tricks, turning them isn't one of them, and aside from just functionally not being able to sell sex appeal (especially when there's a Six on the show) it feels shallow. Momentary hand-wringing about it doesn't alleviate the bitter aftertaste of the questionable plot convenience of this change. She slowly becomes pure evil. Totally false -- again, there is nothing "pure" in a weasel character. This would be like letting Baltar himself start to buy into his own messianic rhetoric completely -- indeed, his occasional buying-in and occasional buying-out is totally in line with his character: what else is a Messiah than someone who really buys his own hype?

Hot Dog and others: Oh, the pilots. So many bad (actor) pilots! And for the most part most of them are set dressing. Sometimes people die and you aren't even sure you've met them before. Which is fine -- I mean this is part snazzy effects war movie after all. I still don't remember who the main character in Black Hawk Down was (it was supposed to be Josh Hartnett, bu they ALL looked like Josh Hartnett). I won't get into nepotism of the younger Olmos having this role through the entire series, but suffice it to say that I didn't buy his magical, "natural" transition into ace fighter pilot (he scans "fresh meat" through the entire series). I didn't want to see him be the person to fly out when we're supposed to understand that no one important is going to die in a battle. When Starbuck or Lee went out in Season 1, you could cheer at the effective "invincibility shield" that their presence signalled. Not true of Hot Dog, and they have a few misplaced real-character attributes pegged to him in Seasons 3 and 4 that don't change that perception, though I do like the thought of him and Cali getting together for a tryst and winning each other over with dopey platitudes. "It's like, when I look at you, I just feel like I know you, y'know?" "Yes. I know exactly what you mean. It's like we were together in another life."

The Bad: Four Years of Mixed Bags

For the most part, bad characters are merely not as strong as other main characters but forced onto the same stage. They usually don't flounder (that would be for the ugly category) but they also peck away at credibility. Some of these pecks are resolved at some point in the series and resemble charming dents from a previous battle, some are good ideas gone awry, some are strong characters who lose their footing as the story sweeps them aside or into places they don't belong.

Ellen Tigh: When Ellen was introduced, there's a brief delight in the thought that she might be a Cylon (the episode, "Tigh Me Up Tigh Me Down," directed by Edward James Olmos, is incongruously delightful, like a particularly quirky X-Files monster-of-the-week). Then there's brief delight later when you realize she's not a Cylon and that yes, this is just a crazy trampy wifey character we're going to have to live with. And then that gets old.

...And then it gets older.

...Etc. Ellen never really worked in the series even conceptually -- Tigh doesn't make sense with his maneating wife in tow. She's largely responsible for a deterioration of his character, save for a fascinating Cheneyesque stint as commander, throughout the second season (he suggests what Cheney would look like as Obama's vice president or something). And of course there are obvious reasons Tigh gets his groove back -- loses Ellen, loses eyeball. Sea captain is a great look for Tigh through Season 3 and the first part of Season 4.

Also, there's no way to define Ellen outside of her relationship with Tigh. Sometimes this is almost comically awkward, as you wonder what the fuck it is she does on the Battlestar all day in his tiny room (aside from drink), and why they couldn't just let her live on one of the many civilian ships with better amenities. They could still fly her in at crucial superego moments but she wouldn't have to coexist with the daily routine of the ship. The acting itself is insubstantial -- I don't buy her as a seducer/manipulator, even if I do buy her as a tramp -- and even for a closet jelly-legged coward like Tigh I don't buy the power that she has over him. Ever. The "eternal romance" reveal is particularly phony: I find it really hard to believe that they weren't divorced before the attack on Caprica. In fact, their being divorced then reunited on the ship to deal with all the problems that led to the divorce could have been far, far more convincing.

Admiral Cain: Here we get into some issues of sexuality when it comes time for Razor, but suffice it to say for now that the real problem with Cain is that the actress isn't tough as nails. She plays Cain as a bitch, not as a brutal, hardened survivor; the Razor backstory is somewhat helpful in this regard, but ultimately she strikes more as a power-hungry businesswoman than a power-hungry military officer. I buy her at the head of a corporation, not a battlestar. Why couldn't they have cast an older woman whose role in the military was more of a mirror inverse of Adama -- someone for whom gender is somewhat beside the point, so that philosophy, not personality, was the driving antagonism? Cain, as played by Michelle Forbes, presents a brief inconvenience: how can we quickly dispose of her? As opposed to the harder realities of military command, which can't be so easily circumvented. The writing here is lazy and too easy. She's not just a woman commander, she's also significantly younger than the other commanders; we assume some kind of "unnatural" ascension to the top of the chain of command (not that we mind this when Lee Adama does it). She's not just "hard," she's SADISTIC, and so is her crew. When we're introduced to the chilling possibility that Cylon pain is as "human" as human pain, and that there are comparable psychological traumas (in the form of the Six that I call the Maoist, for her transformation into a Godardian heroine after being freed from the Pegasus), we get about as much subtlety in the sadism of Six's torturers as we do in Full Metal Jacket, or maybe Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay.

All of these "special case" scenarios -- a commander who doesn't necessarily deserve the power she has and has a record of outright brutality (Adama at one point in Razor claims he might have made her decision to strip a civilian ship of its supplies. This is possibly the most bullshit thing his character says in the entire series, all to try to paper over the mistakes in conceiving of the Cain character this way in the first place -- Razor reads largely as an apologia for the ill-thought-out resolution of the Pegasus storyline). Her officers are either sadists (the torturer) or buffoons (her new Executive Officer, who has a central role in the hands-down worst episode of the series, "Black Market"). Her crew consists almost entirely of characters out of Starship Troopers. There is a big fat strawman moral imperative for Adama to make decisions that he never should have made in ordering her assassination (yeah right). Ultimately backing down from it doesn't fix the problem -- it's the decision that counts for Adama, not the execution, and to put Starbuck in that situation (essentially sending her to her probable death after committing the assassination) is doubly untrue to his character.

And then there's the gay thing. Cain is half-openly gay, in that the entire ship seems to know that she's in a relationship with Maoist Six in the Razor film but it's given an oddly sinister tone in how it's presented: sideways glances, an air of conspiracy. It's complicated: I mean, we know who Six is, and we know who Cain is, and they don't know the other yet. And Cain is a commanding officer carrying on an affair with one of her crew. In a show that openly dealt with sexuality, this wouldn't present a problem -- it's no different than if Adama carried on an affair with one of his crew. But it is different, because she is the only explicitly homosexual character in the entire series. Not one other homosexual relationship. IN A MILITARY SOAP OPERA. I mean come ON. The show isn't a fraction of the amount of dumb it would need to be to obviously present us with a character whose cruelty or conflict stems from the "problem" of his or her homo- or non-heterosexuality, but it doesn't really excuse the hush-hush way the show deals with non-heterosexuality in general -- presumably Cylons are inherently bisexual, to the extent that the "bi" part even matters to them, but this isn't very well explored since, e.g., Gaius is featured as the main subject of a Baltar-Caprica-Lucy Lawless love triangle -- it's more "I Kissed a Girl" (Perry) than "I Kissed a Girl" (Sobule). The relationships are uber-hetero, not just man-on-woman but REAL MEN on REAL WOMEN. Which perhaps is as it should be on the REAL MEN side (I mean jeez, they're in the military) but why aren't the women allowed to be the "men" in their relationships without consequence? Kara (I'll get to her in a moment) is continually punished in weirdly domestic and invasive ways for what appear (reductively) to be her masculine characteristics (don't want a strictly monogamous relationship? See how you like being a HOUSEWIFE SLAVE!). The one gay character coincidentally (and in this case I do allow for the chance that it was a narrative coincidence, since I'm charitable to the show) is both a Controlling Lesbian Boss and a Deeply Conflicted Single Character. (For you see, she has no time for a family, because she is a woman in a man's world. Which is actually statistically true in many fields -- just read some research on women artists [PDF] by the NEA that suggests that women are far less likely to have children than men in various artistic fields, though this is partially the result of women generally being much younger than men.)

Cali: Cali is the rare character who starts off weak and is given the most possible development within her weakness. She succeeds where Kat and Tory both fail (pretty miserably), and where Ellen, say, might have been stronger. The show seems to understand pretty well that Cali is stupid, a dim bulb. In a show that's reluctant to show dim bulbs in a non-threatening -- and perhaps even useful within the military -- way, this is a nice development. Cali is never made to appear secretly savvy about anything; she's not even a particularly good mother. She's just a below-average gal in an extraordinary situation. This isn't a possibility they allow for, e.g., Helo, whose brittle dumbness that is evident in Season 1 is turned into a kind of hardheaded moral righteousness in later seasons. I like Helo, his character works, but part of me wishes they would just let him be a little bit dumber. Other dullards are either misguided (Gaius's cult) or threatening (the Marxist Baltar supporters, the Sons of Aries) or Politically Relevant (the thinly-veiled Christian Scientist Sagittarons, the un-unionized tylium proles). But what about the good-hearted meatheads? The jocks? The peabrains? The dolts? Even Anders is given a veneer of sophistication that his character's life and series development doesn't really bear out.

But Cali deserves more pedestrian strength, like the first wife character, Arabella, in Jude the Obscure, who may not be bright but is at least "man enough" to slaughter a pig (one of the more memorable sequences I think I've ever read, actually). In this metaphor, Chief is Jude and Boomer is the unattainable (eventually attained but still remote) second wife, Sue. But Cali's weakness is weak in almost all respects; she's too forgiving, too weepy (for an actress who doesn't weep very naturally), too damn miserable. I appreciate the startling revelation that Chief makes to Adama that (IIRC) includes an outburst that Cali's breath is like cauliflower and her eyes are dead. This felt right, but it felt right from the eyes of writers shaking their heads about not being able to get rid of Cali sooner. It's unfortunate, because I like Cali's role as a plain person in an extraordinary situation: it was much like Chief's Season 1-3 arc, but...y'know, dumber.

The Defense Lawyer Guy: What was the point of this character? Played with oily charm, sure, but I half expected a Fight Club-style reveal that HE WAS ACTUALLY LEE'S BAD SIDE or something. He was good as a cartoon for one or two episodes (Baltar's trial) but he keeps coming back, they keep trying to psychologize his amorality. This is a mistake -- not everything in this series needs to be psychologized, which is perhaps one of the most annoying offshoots of the New Age of Complexity in "series-arc" shows, the obsessive need to explain everything psychologically, like the awful psychiatric explanation at the end of Psycho. Now that pseudo-psychological impulse has been so deeply ingrained into television arcs that it's getting harder to find appealing character acting (many of the Bad and Ugly candidates fall into the category of "interesting bit role trying to hold its own on the main stage"), which would greatly benefit some of the clunkier relationships and characters in the show. The Defense Lawyer Guy is the perfect example: instead of a bittersweet Usual Suspects-esque kiss farewell, he hangs around for appearances for the rest of the series as we learn about his wife who died and his cat who died and his blah blah blah. I DON'T CARE. The guy is a snake oil salesman -- I don't need to know that he was driven into the business by an overbearing patriarch or something.

Dee: A tough one, because I like Dee. Funnily enough, her suicide was the first BSG moment I ever saw, from a Youtube meme. It reiterates the idea above of superficiality in coup de theatre, but again, it's not the mere existence of coup de theatre that inherently makes it superficial -- but I knew of Dee's death the entire time I watched the series and it didn't fundamentally change my view of her throughout. Her presence in the show is too slight to merit the major character development they attempt in Season 3, and she can't really hold attention when onscreen with Lee, though the show deals with this directly. She knows the relationship is doomed and that they're essentially just having a good time (more on the counter-intuitively progressive role of marriage in the series later). At the same time, though, she seems to be telegraphing her character's weaknesses in the series itself -- "I know I'm just a bit player, but it's nice that I get to share the stage with the Starbucks and Adamas and Roslins, even for such an implausible and obviously temporary reason." Dee's problem is just that she was a good supporting character that wasn't given much to do. Even her role in the CIC seemed somewhat superfluous, and given that they could make up shit for her to do, her sitting quietly in various long shots of the action didn't give us a great opportunity to see her do much. On the Pegasus with Lee she seemed to turn into a kind of Ellen Tigh "wife pet" whose job it was to appear next to her hubby. And they essentially lose Dee long before we see her suicide "tell" -- finding the jacks on Earth.

But you know what, the suicide isn't true to her character at all. Since when is Dee all about the fantasy of settling on Earth? Is it because she's a lapsed Sagittarion and this directly contradicts her religious hopes and beliefs? (And suicide doesn't?) This is a woman who knowingly entered a temporary marriage for the hell of it, whose most salient characteristics in the show were her ability to fade into the background and diligently do whatever it is her job was (communications or something?) or to kind of roll with the narrative punches. She was pretty good at rolling with those punches, but they didn't give her enough punches. It seems more like the writers realized she was serving no useful role, aside from an almost throwaway shot-reverse glance from Gaeta that for about 10 seconds in the entire series suggests that there's a potential for a romance there (which is a shame, because otherwise I'd be more confident that Gaeta was gay).

The Disappointments: Less-Baggy Mixed Bags

Anders: What a dope. I mean, he's good as a dope. I like that Kara understands from the start that their marriage is a farce. But the show tries to have it both ways -- we want them not to be together, but we're expected to believe that Kara kinda sorta needs him. This would be a nice, and perhaps true to a messy marriage, if it were dealt with more consistently. But they keep trying to fold Sam back into the action. Most interesting development was when Kara was basically "done" with Anders but wouldn't divorce him, so he just stayed on another ship until Kara got horny. For a brief period, they gave Anders the role that Ellen Tight could have had for the bulk of the series. But once again they try to pile on Big Revelations and Big Emotional Moments. Thing is, Anders is better as a jock than he is as a "misunderstood brainy jock." He doesn't acclimate to the New Caprica revolutionary unionist storyline like Tigh or Chief; he certainly doesn't acclimate to the Big Reveal (in fact, he appears essentially unchanged, even superficially a la Tory, afterward). He doesn't even acclimate to baldness particularly well. His final send-off, about wanting to achieve "perfection" as a Pyramid player, is a last-ditch effort to slather some profoundness on his backstory, but I don't believe it. I bet he was thrilled to win a championship ring or whatever. In fact, he should have had some kind of fixation on his championship ring -- it is about winning at all costs for him; that was how we were introduced to him, wanting to take out as many Cylons as he possibly could.

Kara Thrace: No, I'm not saying Kara's a bad character. That would result in my being pretty much killed. But she's the biggest waste in the whole series, a tragic waste, and the place where the show's underlying sexism starts to show in an ugly way. Kara is developed in a high school angst protagonist role, a loner who lives for herself first and is good at whatever she does. She's from the same cloth as Princess Leia, with a bit of Ashlee Simpson folded in. But some of the abuses she goes through in this show are worthy of Kill Bill, including a hospital scene that's disturbingly reminiscent of that film's rock-bottom worst scene. BSG is smarter than Kill Bill and usually the show knows how to hedge its bets to avoid some of Tarantino's more embarrassing pitfalls, but the sentiment is there: child abuse, medical abuse, emotional abuse, domestic abuse. She gets to suffer the gamut of "woman's pain," the result of existing sexism taken to sadistic extremes. And her perseverance through these tests makes her, in many ways, the strongest character on the show. Lee can't even handle floating in outer space for a few hours without turning into a wuss with an existential crisis -- Kara's crises seem to emanate from her at all times, sometimes overpowering her ability to function but usually not. I didn't believe that she was "evenly matched" with Lee in the boxing episode (an excellent one-off that makes exposition seem fresh and has some beautifully photographed boxing scenes); interesting thing about Lee is that he's a pretty boy. He'd get his ass knocked out.

And even these weirdly psychosexual abuses I could forgive in the face of that strength, in the steady, stubborn performance of Katee Sackhoff, who seems to be unable to make herself laugh or cry on command but in a way that is suggestive of her character (Kara's laughter and tears are forced, too). But the show abandons her, just like Starbuck's dad abandoned her. She's left adrift in a convoluted series of plot machinations and they never really figure out how to bring her back. And even this is self-consciously alluded to in the failure to resolve the mystery of her crash-landing on earth, but self-consciousness doesn't ameliorate flaws, it just recognizes them. They're still flaws (as Starbuck could probably tell you). Kara's faith is compelling, but she doesn't work as a divinely inspired nutcase. Kara's return is mysterious, and I don't mind the loose ends of it, but she's not a fucking angel. She has DNA. They ran blood tests. Her ship has stuff programmed into its frequencies. You can't just let that go and pretend that Season 4 Kara just "doesn't count." But it doesn't really count -- her actions feel convenient to the churning of the plot, which was one of the nice things about Starbuck generally before then -- she always stood slightly outside the plot, even when the plot was ostensibly about her. We're never worried about whether or not she'll die, we just want to know how she'll escape. One problem is that as the show goes on, we know how to "read" a character being written out of the show, as if (as in a standard soap opera) there was a particular strain of music that might tell us in the opening sequence that a particular character was about to disappear for awhile. That gives ALL major characters Starbuck's invulnerability to suddenly disappearing. (When Starbuck does suddenly disappear, and her name is erased from the following episode's credits, it feels almost like a hoax, which it essentially is, and the other characters' grief feels put-on since we know pretty well she's coming back. Were she not to come back, it would be even more disappointing, since the "death" is so sudden and so stupid.)

Kara's a tough character to develop, since one her most salient traits is that she doesn't really "develop." She's too hard, too set in her ways, too sure of herself. The paradox is that any tampering with her feels like an act of God(s), and any major personality shift feels more like a plot device than a character development. They use Kara for plot purposes almost exclusively in Season 4, which along with the other abuses basically makes her a site for unfortunate shit to happen to. This usually works in-story (how's Kara going to get out of this one?) but extra-story (i.e. in setting up the rest of the narrative) it's destructive. They shoehorn in her "dad" (after absurdly introducing an eighth Cylon like ONE EPISODE before we're supposed to vaguely make the connection that her father is the boxed "Daniel" model...or something) and the ensuing, tacked-on (but well handled considering) piano lessons are used as a Magic Arrow. It feels like pounding in a puzzle piece until it fits instead of finding the right one. But hey, you've got like three episodes left and you can't just start making new puzzle pieces. One downfall of the puzzle structure -- you have to finish the puzzle.

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In the next post, I'll discuss the season arcs versus the series arc generally and I'll get to those pesky Magic Arrows. At some point I'll talk a bit more about some of the (somewhat conservative but also counter-intuitively progressive) social politics and try to go more into depth about what makes the politics, and the show's general -- and unique -- apocalypse allegory work (hint hint: it's because it's not actually about the apocalypse).