Battlestar Galactica: Picking Up the Scraps of Humanity |
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| Written by Margaret Jackson |
| Sunday, 13 January 2008 19:00 |
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There are plenty of reasons to love Battlestar Galactica; there's top notch writing and acting, sharp social commentary, and historical parallels that buttress the overriding "all this has happened before and all of this will happen again" motif. The show's religious mythology continues to unravel in unexpected ways, and every week you see the most gorgeous space battles on TV. The reason I love Battlestar, though, and the thing that keeps drawing me back, is the fact that no one on the show should by any right be there - a fact that couples perfectly with Galactica's central concern. Creating a new society from the scraps leftover by one destroyed is for most an exercise in thought. On Galactica, it's a fact of life. The show could easily turn into The West Wing, giving viewers a feel good lesson in civics and doing the right thing, but this is exactly what Battlestar is not. Roslin has none of President Bartlett's experience or credentials. Likewise, Adama and Tigh are a far cry from the confident, detached leaders helming the bridge of the Enterprise on Star Trek. The uncertainty and desperation at the top trickles down the ranks, leaving few confident of their future or place. There are labor strikes and struggles for power, prisoners who demand fair treatment, black markets that emerge in everything that isn't (and everything that is) rationed, and people sometimes disappear. It's ugly, and very familiar. So if this is what's left of the human race - malcontents, drunks, the incompetent, and the guilty - what exactly is there to be saved? The survival of humanity is at stake, but the question the show poses is not whether humanity is deserving or even capable of survival; the question instead is: when we save humanity, what exactly are we saving? If you are unfamiliar with the show, the gist of it is this: The Cylons were created by man. They rebelled, and humanity was essentially wiped out in a single, massive sneak attack. The humans' own defense networks were used against them, and within a day the war was over. Now the ship, the Galactica, which in its run-down state was slated to become a museum before the attack, its crew, and a few passenger ships are all that's left of humanity. The jaded and largely dysfunctional crew members of the Galactica contribute vastly to the show’s appeal. Commander Adama, who, like the ship itself, was set to retire before the attacks took place, helms the Galactica. His post on Galactica was in no way a gift for his years of service as a sharp military mind. After flubbing his job on more high-profile ships, he was sent to Galactica to run out the clock. His best friend and XO, Saul Tigh, is loyal to a fault. He's also a drunk. Lee 'Apollo' Adama, the Commander's son, is one of the ship's top pilots. Though gifted, he resents the military system his father forced him into and openly struggles to pinpoint where his own loyalties lie. He's also really whiny. Galactica's best pilot, Kara Thrace, is a mess. She drinks, sleeps around, has an astonishingly short temper, and writes poetry. In any other situation she would be severely reprimanded and more than likely thrown out of the military, but she's an asset the Galactica cannot do without. The civilian leadership is no better. President Laura Roslin was Secretary of Education before the attacks, rising to the office as the only surviving link in the line of succession. Gaius Baltar, scientific genius and celebrity, unknowingly betrayed humanity and enabled the attacks. He now retreats into his own mind as he tries desperately to keep his part in the genocide secret. Then there's the Galactica itself. Pockmarked and scorched from years of use, the aging battleship uses outdated technology and threatens to break apart with every blow. Its computers are slow, its phones are analog, and nothing is networked. While an obvious hindrance in battle, it was this very handicap that spared the Galactica from the original Cylon attack. This doesn't keep its crew from griping about the need to perform every task by hand, and everyone knows she's always one hit away from crumbling completely. This is the thematic heart of Battlestar Gallactica; it is a story of mixed-up souls who are forced to flee across the galaxy together and, in doing so, create a stable society where basic needs are met, priorities are set, and humanity lives another day. Or at least that's what usually happens. When faced with the Cylons, the humans on the Galactica have no trouble setting things aside and facing the challenge head on. It’s when the Cylons don't appear on the horizon that life in the fleet gets murky. There is still little social order, and for the most part the status quo holds. But when allowed a moment to breathe and take it all in, people start asking questions and things begin to fall apart. If Battlestar illustrates anything (and believe me, it illustrates a lot), it's that any one person is capable of both the best and the worst humanity has to offer. Much of the fun is watching these very realistic characters attempt to grapple with seemingly impossible circumstances. They often fail. They make choices that carry consequences, and sometimes things go to hell in a hand-basket before anyone can react. They make it up as they go along, no frame of reference outside what they once read or watched on TV. But these same people can, and do, succeed. It doesn't happen nearly as often, but that makes it all the sweeter when it does. For all the back room deals and slights of hand, no one on the show sets out to do anything without the best interests of the remaining survivors in mind. Seeing how many different interpretations of this there are within such a small world is perhaps the strongest part of the show. And it's a lot more fun than knowing what President Bartlett was going to say ahead of time (I still love you, Aaron Sorkin!). They are humanity at its best and worst, and work constantly to prove that they are worthy of survival, both to us and to themselves. They give a portrait of a messy, imperfect community that is sometimes too familiar for our own comfort. They’re us. Whether they deserve to live, though, has never been nearly as important as just what their legacy will be, and ultimately this unspoken truth drives each of the characters forward. Battlestar will begin its final season this spring, and has already posed a few new questions for its audience to ponder while they wait. Will the fleet be saved? Will the Cylons win? Or will the fleet's inner turmoil finally pose too great a challenge to overcome? Who knows? A few things, however, are certain; history geeks will spot dead on allusions to events both past and present, policy wonks will giggle gleefully over the decisions made by Roslin and Adama, those with HDTV's will squeal in delight as gorgeous space battles rage on, and Starbuck will punch somebody. Probably Apollo. The one constant I'm looking forward to most, though, is the crew's continuing struggle to figure out what is right and wrong in a world where the rules no longer apply. They wish anyone but themselves had been tasked with saving the world. I wouldn't have it any other way.
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