Ole’ Red-Eyes

Art tells us about our humanity: it gets to our essences and exposes them. The characters are not universal, but their characteristics are. Art distills and refines, condensing many into one, so that when released, we experience the miasma of life. War and Peace, In Search of Lost Time, Hamlet. I don’t know anyone with all the parts of the characters, but I know many who have many pieces from many of the characters. Battlestar Galactica is art.

That’s a surprise isn’t it? Well, to me, too.

Pedantic genre purists intent on separating high from low, stratifying and sifting, may just get the fuck out now, please.

Science-fiction (I refuse “Speculative Fiction” for reasons that you can guess from the command above. Apologists may also, please, fuck off) can be outside of ourselves more than other genres. That freedom is powerful. Lem used it so well in Solaris to peer deeply into us. Tarkovsky did in Stalker, getting to the bitter nut of human nature nestled oh-so-deep in our psychic shells. Bladerunner goes for it, too, questioning what differentiates us.

Battlestar Galactica does all of that. It also dives straight into our current moral swamp, and swims in the foetid water.

This love and admiration of the show was unexpected. I remember the first one; it sucked highly, and I knew that then. I scoffed when I heard it was being redone. What updates from childhood every work? If it was bad then, will it be any better now? (what fourteen year-old has a great aesthetic sense?).

It was the accolades that turned it around. Having been a critic, I respect learned opinions, and when I read some coherent reviews that touted the show, I caved. I downloaded the first few episodes when I was in Hong Kong. I watched. Then I quickly downloaded all I could get.

It was and is great. I will argue that it’s better than The Wire. Why? Because it’s not grounded as much to its context. The Wire, as thoughtful and dense and expansive as it is, is wedded to its Americanness and its era. Battlestar has no home, no time; it’s all of us floating about in nothingness, seeking our home.

And the themes? Are there any bigger than human nature, souls, ethics, morality, religion, violence, love, hate, birth, death? No. And I am not sure that is all of them. It’s an impressive list, and they tackle these equally impressively.

Sometimes it becomes a little heavy-handed, a little obvious with its message of the week, but more often than not, these are currents in every episode, building volume and power. Small things trigger these and unlike much writing, we the viewers must notice these. The writers respect the viewers as intelligent, thinking people. When most entertainment can be insulting when you realize just how stupid the makers think you are (or, perhaps, they are just really stupid themselves. I am not sure this is better or worse), Battlestar’s frequent refusal to explicate is refreshing. It also helps to create the buzz and excitement as you can actually think about things.

Where else did you see a solid discussion of terrorism, suicide bombing, torture and such. 24? Oh, fucking please. Nowhere. That’s where. I couldn’t believe they broached these subjects. Individual vs. collective rights? Stealing babies? Sacrificing thousands? Yowza.

The end of last year, when the four unknowing Cylons met in the room, was tremendously affecting. You cared about at least three of those characters and at least two deeply (how can you not hail the chief and salute the colonel, even if he is such a curmudgeon?) So many of the streams in the show spilled into that room at that one instance. The hatches bulged. Tigh’s speech just parted those waters. His statement about being the best he could be was a sermon from the mount.

Fantastic writing and acting (plus I love Tigh’s accent. Being here in the East, I don’t here many Eastern Canadian accents, I get a hoot out of it. It’s become thicker.)

So it’s the final season run now. I am not sure about the hanging ending of the first episode. It tried too hard. But perhaps it’s riding a bit of buzz and needed to have that punch. I don’t think so. I hope it quickly goes from the boil back to simmering reduction.

I was thinking that Lee would be the final cylon. Which would totally blow my mind. Then I saw a show where someone suggested that we, the Earth tribe, were the Cylons. That blew my mind even further. That’s just flabbergasting.

The fact that I am so wrapped up in the ideas of the show – not it’s specificity, but the meaning of the revelation (it’s not who shot JR?) – is a tribute to it. I care about it as much as I cared about finding out about what happened in War and Peace or Anna Karenina or In Search of Lost Time. I use that parallel because they are long works dependent on their dimension of time. They seep into us and infuse us.

It’s a fun discussion similar to whether Deckard was a replicant and  how that interpretation works. It is fun. This is the joy of fandom and geekdom. It is no different than being a bloody Austenite and attending twee tea parties and rhapsodizing about Emma. It is different than a Star Trek convention, though, I think, but I will have to work out how exactly, later. Because it’s better, just doesn’t do the show justice. Nor to Star Trek, and I have a great fondness for it (and bald headed women, meow)

So, I can’t wait for Sunday, when I can watch the new episode. Granted, I am watching it alone, for I know of no other fans in GZ. In HK, Jenn and I would watch it. In fact, when catching up we gorged, and I think we actually spent 2007 New Year’s on season 3. Meeting a fan, it’s an ecstatic moment, like meeting someone who is a real cinephile. It’s geek passion. If they ever have a Battle Con in Hong Kong (which is a sonorous title if there ever was), I may have to go.