Battlestar Galactica Going Bad
Ronald D. Moore remains the best SF writer for television, but the latest season of BSG isn't showing his considerable skill (In fact, I don't believe he's penned any of the season three scripts himself).
The season started strongly even before it aired. The webisodes were relevant, defamiliarizing insurgent tactics and, more importantly, motivations. We saw desperation and life under an occupier who ultimately believes in his own superiority. After the flight from New Caprica, however, the writing has gone adrift, like the airy dream-like interludes of Baltar's aboard the Cylon vessels. Recent episodes suffer from sentimentality, underdeveloped story arcs and irrelevance.
*** SPOILER WARNING ***
Take "The Passage," as an example. This episode's failures were all the more surprising for being written by perhaps the most talented of Joss Whedon's Mutant Enemy bullpen, Jane Espenson. "The Passage" treats the demise of Kat, the unlikable viper-jock rival of Starbuck, like the death of Admiral Nelson.
Before getting the events of that episode, take a moment to remember the last time Kat got any appreciable screentime. In "Scar," Kat flaunted her immaturity through her petty rivalry with Starbuck, brought full force in that episode's final scene as the gloating Kat demands that Starbuck fill her cup, oblivious that Starbuck herself set Kat up to kill the Cylon top gun known as Scar. Starbuck relents, but elevates the moment from Kat's oversized ego to rememberance of lost comrades. Starbuck lifts her cup and toasts all of the fallen pilots, reciting the names of each.
Yet in "The Passage" we're supposed to feel so much sympathy with Kat that we don't gag at her syrupy deathbed scene. Much more likable characters, like Billy, died without any such sentimentality. And where did the contaminated food crisis come from? We've been left wondering about food for the first two seasons. Where were 50,000 refugees getting three squares per day, especially of provisions like meat and salt?
And what's with the hybrid Cylon's and their crazy talk? Or D'Anna's quest to see the faces of the final five Cylon models? Who cares? Perhaps there's some hidden metaphor of our times here, but so far I'm not seeing it.
The season started strongly even before it aired. The webisodes were relevant, defamiliarizing insurgent tactics and, more importantly, motivations. We saw desperation and life under an occupier who ultimately believes in his own superiority. After the flight from New Caprica, however, the writing has gone adrift, like the airy dream-like interludes of Baltar's aboard the Cylon vessels. Recent episodes suffer from sentimentality, underdeveloped story arcs and irrelevance.
*** SPOILER WARNING ***
Take "The Passage," as an example. This episode's failures were all the more surprising for being written by perhaps the most talented of Joss Whedon's Mutant Enemy bullpen, Jane Espenson. "The Passage" treats the demise of Kat, the unlikable viper-jock rival of Starbuck, like the death of Admiral Nelson.
Before getting the events of that episode, take a moment to remember the last time Kat got any appreciable screentime. In "Scar," Kat flaunted her immaturity through her petty rivalry with Starbuck, brought full force in that episode's final scene as the gloating Kat demands that Starbuck fill her cup, oblivious that Starbuck herself set Kat up to kill the Cylon top gun known as Scar. Starbuck relents, but elevates the moment from Kat's oversized ego to rememberance of lost comrades. Starbuck lifts her cup and toasts all of the fallen pilots, reciting the names of each.
Yet in "The Passage" we're supposed to feel so much sympathy with Kat that we don't gag at her syrupy deathbed scene. Much more likable characters, like Billy, died without any such sentimentality. And where did the contaminated food crisis come from? We've been left wondering about food for the first two seasons. Where were 50,000 refugees getting three squares per day, especially of provisions like meat and salt?
And what's with the hybrid Cylon's and their crazy talk? Or D'Anna's quest to see the faces of the final five Cylon models? Who cares? Perhaps there's some hidden metaphor of our times here, but so far I'm not seeing it.
posted by Christopher A. Dellario at 2:36 PM
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