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Thursday, December 11, 2003

Battlestar Galactica, Part the Second

Spoiler-riffic, natch.

Overall, the second half seemed much better paced, and while I saw the "surprise" ending coming (to the point where I was playing "Who's gonna be a Cylon?" for the last hour or so), I didn't guess right, and I'm a little upset about who they chose (to the point where I started muttering ::sleeperagentsleeperagentsleeperagent:: just because I liked Boomer so damn much). However, Starbuck is still my favoritest ever, with Madam President running a close second.

C., you are right -- they put Harvey in a dress. But he looks GOOD in a dress. I started out really disliking Number 6 at first, because she was nearly the exception that proves the rule about chicks in sci-fi (you gotta have boobies at some point), but last night she totally won me over, boobies and all. Lesson learned: it is easy to win me over when one is prone to making snarky comments and causing idiot men great discomfort. (God only knows what this says about me.) Meanwhile, one can only dream of the possibilities inherent in the Baltar and Number 6 Variety Hour (spin-off series: Baltar and Number 6, After Dark). I'd watch.

On a less fluffy note, it was a sad yet beautiful thing, watching BG take its place in the Media-Liz's-Mom-Will-Hate Hall of Fame. Because while an aspiring romance writer would probably like a series where the end goal is to "have lots of babies," I do not think she would deal well with Cami and her doll. Fuck, I didn't deal well with it. But no one dealt well with it, necessarily. The guy at TeeVee makes a vaguely reminiscent argument about how science fiction shows should be light and fluffy, that Galactica didn't have any right to pull out the big guns. I call bullshit on that. I'm tired of shows that play it safe, pull back. This new Galactica, a VERY different creature from the original show that this guy can't stop reflecting on (which may be part of the problem), may not be Shakespeare. But every scene was a moral and ethical mess, and the choices that were made were not made lightly. Frankly, I think if they hadn't shown the little girl, THAT would have been cheap. A decision was made, and we saw the consequences. It wasn't easy to watch, it wasn't fair, and it was necessary. Not to mention the fact that after living in a country where the commander in chief won't mourn his dead soldiers, seeing a president grieving for the lives she has decided to sacrifice was almost strangely cathartic.

I think, in the end, it all comes down to the same tired, boring, stupid argument made by people who like to trivialize certain genres as inconsequential. But guess what? This show has balls. This show has gravitas. This show is relevant. And this show is genre. DEAL WITH IT.

Sci-Fi can be so much more than spaceships and laser battles. And no one has said it better than Ronald D. Moore himself:

It gives you a chance to really say something, to explore things with the audience, to challenge your audience's expectations, to make them think about life and who they are, because it's surrounded in this nice wrapper. It's only science fiction. It doesn't exist. These aliens aren't real, so they don't threaten you. You can put things into that context because they don't threaten the audience the way it does if you set it in contemporary Los Angeles. Wrap it in science fiction, wrap it in Star Trek and you can do just about anything you want.

In happy news, the futon critic (a great TV site, if you don't already follow it) reports that the ratings were good -- great, even. So this fangirl's fingers are crossed for more Starbuck and Apollo and even Number 6, because this fangirl is ready for some Moore.

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