In which our hero cops to his (not especially) inner geek
... and argues in defense of an old warhorse of fiction.
So I found myself watching the 2003 miniseries 'reimagining' the 1979 TV series Battlestar Galactica the other night.
Okay. Actually there was really nothing accidental about it, so the 'found myself watching it' phrase really doesn't fit. Actually, I programmed the VCR, just to be certain I didn't miss it, and managed to watch it as it aired anyway.
(No, this isn't the first time it aired. It's just the first time I was on the ball enough to catch it.)
Fact is, I was a big fan of the original series, when it first aired all of 25 years ago now, when my age could be expressed with just one digit, and I recall my siblings were as well. I remember also that my father quite hated the show, probably largely because of its rather blatant cold war, militaristic overtones.
I can't remember being particularly aware of those at the age of nine. But no, there's no mistaking them, just thinking about it a moment. Essentially, in the original show, there were two general classes of threats to the heroes. One was the enemy--perfectly alien, implacable, and ruthless--and no one knew why it was out to destroy human civilization, that's just what it does, apparently. The other was those among the humans who either actively colluded with the enemy, or, failing to take the enemy's malevolence appropriately seriously, somewhat less intentionally assisted it.
I expect the 'reimagining' might well annoy my father at least a little less, were he to bother to see it (which, I suppose, seems unlikely). One of the things I found so notable about it was how very consciously, explicitly and precisely it attempts to invert this aspect of the original. In the new one, the threat is ultimately an aspect of ourselves, a doom we brought upon ourselves--through arrogance, through hubris, perhaps just through lack of foresight. It's even explicitly spelled out, in the principal protaganist's speech--we were the flawed creations.
It's a good move, I have to say--giving the work a dynamic that speaks more directly to more relevant and familiar contemporary anxieties. My expectation is current audiences will find this distinctly more plausible, and thus distinctly more frightening. We have indeed had a hand in creating many of the dangers we currently face, from the broad range of hazards posed by environmental degradation, through to the complex collusions between various Western governments and movements--from the Islamists to the theocratic conservative Christians--deeply hostile to critical enlightenment ideals. And there's also, for good measure, more than a little scariness associated with the odd new hazards posed in the brave new world of widespread network integration--generating scenes just about anyone should find entirely chilling--or at least anyone who's ever worried a bit about the reliability of the hardware they rely upon against subversion, sabotage, and simple malfunction.
There's also some stuff, of course, which I can't help suspecting will travel about as well as did some of the more campy aspects of the original. Some bizarre sexual politics with a classic evil alien vamp character--Kate Millett could, I expect, have had great fun with it, and this subplot's potential to turn to cheese with age, I'm afraid, is probably dangerously high.
But I do have to say, on balance, it's done something very critical considerably better than even the original did at its best, and that's actually saying something. And here's where I have to speak in defense both of the old warhorse and its new incarnation.
Stepping around the more poorly written moments (of which there were many) of the original, the frequent descents into camp, cliche, and low comedy, and the frequently rather two-dimensional characterization, one of the qualities of the old space opera I remember and can still defend was its exploration of humans working together in extremis, pushed to their limits, pushed even to the brink of extinction. The actually very dark original premier, which begins with an almost apocalyptic vision of near annihilation, after all, established a tone and opened up themes more generally optimistic works in the same general subgenre--such as the endless Star Trek spinoffs--rarely allow themselves to risk.
In the Star Trek series I've had the pleasure to watch (no, actually, I'm far from a slavering fan, though perhaps I've seen half of the second series, and most of the original, over time--the franchise is so ubiquitous, I almost suspect you'd get that much just from background exposure through TV store windows, even if you didn't actually own a television yourself), the human species is making it, really, and even when pressed, there's a certain (I have to say it) smugness about the buggers, I'm sorry to say. Yes, it's nice holding up what we could become, I suppose. But I can't say I find it frequently makes good drama.
But a few desperate, terrified people on the run into parts unknown, a vastly superior enemy bearing down from behind, that's got drama. That's got possibilities for writing about people, instead of just about ideals. The reimagining, I'm happy to say, seems to have got that so far, and taken that forward, made it work for early 21st century audiences. The sight of a mushroom cloud on the horizon, the shocked awareness that everything is changed, that you have no home left to which to go--all of that's there, and with the somewhat richer, more involved characterization they've been able to create in many cases, it rises above most of the lesser works of the series' other obvious cousin--the post-apocalyptic world subgenre--and gives it real resonance.
I have to salute them for this. And as I hear now they've got the greenlight for a series, I also have to say: I hope they keep making it work.
Who knows. Maybe if they do, they'll achieve something the original didn't...
Like a second season.
Good luck to them.
So I found myself watching the 2003 miniseries 'reimagining' the 1979 TV series Battlestar Galactica the other night.
Okay. Actually there was really nothing accidental about it, so the 'found myself watching it' phrase really doesn't fit. Actually, I programmed the VCR, just to be certain I didn't miss it, and managed to watch it as it aired anyway.
(No, this isn't the first time it aired. It's just the first time I was on the ball enough to catch it.)
Fact is, I was a big fan of the original series, when it first aired all of 25 years ago now, when my age could be expressed with just one digit, and I recall my siblings were as well. I remember also that my father quite hated the show, probably largely because of its rather blatant cold war, militaristic overtones.
I can't remember being particularly aware of those at the age of nine. But no, there's no mistaking them, just thinking about it a moment. Essentially, in the original show, there were two general classes of threats to the heroes. One was the enemy--perfectly alien, implacable, and ruthless--and no one knew why it was out to destroy human civilization, that's just what it does, apparently. The other was those among the humans who either actively colluded with the enemy, or, failing to take the enemy's malevolence appropriately seriously, somewhat less intentionally assisted it.
I expect the 'reimagining' might well annoy my father at least a little less, were he to bother to see it (which, I suppose, seems unlikely). One of the things I found so notable about it was how very consciously, explicitly and precisely it attempts to invert this aspect of the original. In the new one, the threat is ultimately an aspect of ourselves, a doom we brought upon ourselves--through arrogance, through hubris, perhaps just through lack of foresight. It's even explicitly spelled out, in the principal protaganist's speech--we were the flawed creations.
It's a good move, I have to say--giving the work a dynamic that speaks more directly to more relevant and familiar contemporary anxieties. My expectation is current audiences will find this distinctly more plausible, and thus distinctly more frightening. We have indeed had a hand in creating many of the dangers we currently face, from the broad range of hazards posed by environmental degradation, through to the complex collusions between various Western governments and movements--from the Islamists to the theocratic conservative Christians--deeply hostile to critical enlightenment ideals. And there's also, for good measure, more than a little scariness associated with the odd new hazards posed in the brave new world of widespread network integration--generating scenes just about anyone should find entirely chilling--or at least anyone who's ever worried a bit about the reliability of the hardware they rely upon against subversion, sabotage, and simple malfunction.
There's also some stuff, of course, which I can't help suspecting will travel about as well as did some of the more campy aspects of the original. Some bizarre sexual politics with a classic evil alien vamp character--Kate Millett could, I expect, have had great fun with it, and this subplot's potential to turn to cheese with age, I'm afraid, is probably dangerously high.
But I do have to say, on balance, it's done something very critical considerably better than even the original did at its best, and that's actually saying something. And here's where I have to speak in defense both of the old warhorse and its new incarnation.
Stepping around the more poorly written moments (of which there were many) of the original, the frequent descents into camp, cliche, and low comedy, and the frequently rather two-dimensional characterization, one of the qualities of the old space opera I remember and can still defend was its exploration of humans working together in extremis, pushed to their limits, pushed even to the brink of extinction. The actually very dark original premier, which begins with an almost apocalyptic vision of near annihilation, after all, established a tone and opened up themes more generally optimistic works in the same general subgenre--such as the endless Star Trek spinoffs--rarely allow themselves to risk.
In the Star Trek series I've had the pleasure to watch (no, actually, I'm far from a slavering fan, though perhaps I've seen half of the second series, and most of the original, over time--the franchise is so ubiquitous, I almost suspect you'd get that much just from background exposure through TV store windows, even if you didn't actually own a television yourself), the human species is making it, really, and even when pressed, there's a certain (I have to say it) smugness about the buggers, I'm sorry to say. Yes, it's nice holding up what we could become, I suppose. But I can't say I find it frequently makes good drama.
But a few desperate, terrified people on the run into parts unknown, a vastly superior enemy bearing down from behind, that's got drama. That's got possibilities for writing about people, instead of just about ideals. The reimagining, I'm happy to say, seems to have got that so far, and taken that forward, made it work for early 21st century audiences. The sight of a mushroom cloud on the horizon, the shocked awareness that everything is changed, that you have no home left to which to go--all of that's there, and with the somewhat richer, more involved characterization they've been able to create in many cases, it rises above most of the lesser works of the series' other obvious cousin--the post-apocalyptic world subgenre--and gives it real resonance.
I have to salute them for this. And as I hear now they've got the greenlight for a series, I also have to say: I hope they keep making it work.
Who knows. Maybe if they do, they'll achieve something the original didn't...
Like a second season.
Good luck to them.
posted by AJM at 3:02 p.m. (Permanent Link)
