Season 2 of Battlestar Galactica kicks off with as much, if not more, intensity than the explosive magnificence of season 1. Tonight's BSG rewatch serves up "Scattered", "Valley of Darkness", and "Fragged" to get the tension going.
In "Scattered", we're hit with the stark reality that Adama is on death's doorstep. To make it worse, help is not on the way - the appearance of a Cylon basestar drives the fleet into an emergency jump, but in the confusion, Galactica goes the wrong way, and the problem for the Commander, is that Doc Cottle is off on one of the fleet ships. The only way to reunite with the fleet is to jump back to where they started, where the basestar lies in wait, and to recompute the proper coordinates before they're destroyed. For all his boozing, Colonel Tigh is left with the sobering reality that he's now in charge. It's a great view into Tigh's personality as we see that for all of his faults, at least Tigh is completely honest with himself - he needs Adama. What follows is a terrific example of how a battle scene can keep you on the edge of your seat, even when the emphasis is not on the fighter dogfights or the slugfest between capital ships. The audience is white knuckled over whether the hastily networked computers aboard Galactica can determine the fleet's location before the Cylon virus juggernauts through the firewall that Gaeta's cobbled together. Oddly enough, I found myself wondering why the Cylons would even bother to transmit the virus in the first place. After all, they found out in their first engagement that Galactica and its vipers weren't working on a network basis and were immune to the virus that crashed the rest of the Colonial military fleet's systems. In months of fighting since then, nothing's changed. So why keep sending the signal? Sure, it might be standard operating procedure that's been programmed into the Cylon raiders, and one that maybe they just never got around to dumping from their systems. But you'd think that as efficient machines (at least, the raiders and Centurians behave in a pretty efficient manner), the Cylons wouldn't keep anything around that wasn't useful anymore, that they wouldn't try using a trick that's been proven to be ineffective. Ultimately, you might say the Cylons are just cautious and will try everything in the book every time, just on the off chance that things have changed and the old tricks might work again. Makes for a great clock-is-running-out scene anyway.
Meanwhile on Caprica, Sharon's flown the coop in Starbuck's raider and Helo's left with a surly Kara Thrace. It's a nice aside that shows just how upset Starbuck is, not so much at Helo, as at herself for being drawn in by Leoben, for finding herself in a position where she's unsure of which direction to take. There's a point in her appartment where she notes that she doesn't know how to do anything but fight, and the problem, clearly, is that she's been in a situation for a while where it's not clear who the enemies really are or what the true objective is.
"Valley of Darkness" gets a lot worse. It becomes a different kind of story, not one of exciting space battles, but a gut-wrenching one of being chased through a maze in the dark by near-indestructable monsters - a Cylon boarding party is on the loose in Galactica. For Tigh, this is an ugly blast from the past - he's been through this before in the first Cylon war. I seem to recall one of the extras on the DVD mentioning that there had been a flashback scene written that included the old model Centurians rampaging through a battlestar, but it was decided not to produce that scene. Pity, 'cause it would have been extremely cool. And there's no sacrifice to the relentless pacing when the story shifts to check-in with the crash survivors on Kobol. Things are just as bad in the forest where one of the group lies injured and dying, and the Chief, Cali and one other deckhand have to go back to the crash site to get forgotten medical supplies. The problem is compounded by the fact that Crashdown, in charge of the group, is starting to come unravelled - life in a raptor has given him nothing he can use to cope with having to keep a band of shipmates alive when they're being hunted by Cylons in an alien wilderness. To make matters worse, the other deckhand is killed by the Cylons as he, the Chief and Cali return to the others, and when they get back they learn that Secinus is going to die, and the only way they can help him, in a nice nod to Saving Private Ryan, is to kill him themselves. Overall, this is definitely one of the best episodes of the season, and one of the top 20 of the entire series. Thrilling and very focussed.
"Fragged" takes us back to Galactica for a different kind of fight - a political battle. Colonel Tigh feels increasing pressure as the Colonial Quorum demands to see the imprisoned Roslin and pushes him to rescind his undeclared martial law. For Tigh, even without Ellen egging him on, even without the alcohol impairing his judgement, this would be a fight he'd have no idea how to win. Tigh's a fighting man who knows how to bull his way through a Cylon line, not someone who knows how to outmanouever politicians or craft messaging to convince the public that what he's doing is reasonable - hell, in Tigh's opinion, the public exists to serve his ship, and the politicians are a nuisance to the point where they're almost as much a threat as Cylons. He should have wasted no time to get legal charges laid against Roslin for whatever charges are appropriate for someone who's undermined the chain of command and incited mutiny and theft. From there, he'd have been best served putting out messaging to the effect that Roslin was under arrest pending criminal investigation and trial. He then could have turned government of civilian affairs back to the Quorum, which would be obliged to honour the legal procedings, all the while continuing to issue messaging to the effect that it's of penultimate importance that Galactica's chain of command be honoured and its decisions respected so that it can continue to successfully protect the fleet as it always has. He wouldn't have come out of it being lilly white, but he would have looked a damn site better than he does as the story actually pans out. And his biggest mistake, of course, was allowing the media to accompany the Quorum when he trotted out Roslin to illustrate her lack of mental fitness (and failed due to a guard's covert complicity with her). This is the point where his remaining credibility is shot, with the mistake of officially declaring martial law being the last nail in the coffin.
On Kobol, it's a disaster of a different sort as Crashdown orders an attack on the Cylons. What I could never figure out was why, later on in the series, Cali tries to blackmail Baltar by saying she'd expose him for lying about killing Crashdown. Seems kind of dumb, and certainly ungrateful, seeing as how Crashdown was about to kill Cali in this episode, and it seems he'd become unhinged enough that if Baltar hadn't shot him, the Lieutenant would have probably gone ahead and killed her. Certainly, the Chief's attitude seems as though he agreed with what Baltar did, and in addition gave the Vice-President some grudging respect for concocting a story that would preserve Crashdown's honour. Luckily for all of them, the cavalry comes and the Chief gets himself another Saving Private Ryan moment as he pulls the trigger on his sidearm, and suddenly all of the Cylons get "blowed up reeeal goooood" by the rescue raptors.
Next up, more infighting among the fleet.
babbling relentlessly about science fiction, fantasy, and all points in between
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Blogging Battlestar - Politics, Theft and Treason
Tonight's Battlestar Galactica rewatch brought me to the final three episodes of season 1: "Colonial Day" and "Kobol's Last Gleaming" parts 1 & 2.
In "Colonial Day" all eyes, for once, are not on Galactica. Instead the fleet devotes its entire attention to the political battles taking place aboard the Rising Star. The movers and shakers among the refugees have gathered aboard the luxury liner to convene the Quorum of the Colonies - the Colonial parliament, where their newly elected representatives will attend to the government business of their civilization. But a wrench is thrown into the works when it's announced that terrorist and prison ship uprising leader Tom Zarek appears as a duly-elected representative of Saggitaron and forces the issue of the election of a Vice-President. For Roslin, it's a matter of life and death - beyond politics, because if Zarek wins the Vice-Presidential election, her days could be numbered. It's a great episode for showing some of the political battles that go on behind the scenes in any society, and for peeling back more layers from some of the lead characters. It's a chance to see the degree of Ellen Tigh's aspirations, to the point where she'll deal with anyone, even a known terrorist, if she thinks it'll get her a more privileged position in life. There's certainly more than a hint that her complimentary day aboard the Rising Star that she tells the Colonel about later is due to the fact that she divulged the location of where the assassin was being held to Zarek. With Zarek, we see his ability to turn on the charisma and make the cameras work to his advantage as he tries a legitimate drive at power, even as he keeps a retinue of prison barge thugs around him to intimidate others, and, let's face it, assassinate anyone who gets in his way (or who might implicate him in the plot to smuggle a gun aboard the ship and kill... someone who gets in his way). For Roslin, the epi reveals that she's not just a capable administrator, she's also a masterful political player. But not quite masterful enough... the scene were she invites Baltar to run for Vice-President is proof that she isn't quite the expert player she thinks she is or that she ought to be. Prior to the meeting, she said that meeting with Baltar was one of two unpleasant things she had to take care of. There's a mistake right off the bat - working with someone you don't trust or like. Now, in the political arena, no-one would argue against the fact that sometimes this is a necessity, but in order to work with those one finds objectionable, the good politician must at least keep a game face on. Roslin has no idea what a game face is. When she goes into the men's room to extend her offer to Baltar, she doesn't even make the effort to sound friendly, and she certainly doesn't extend her hand (even though he's made a point of washing his). It was very telling where she abruptly left the room without offering to shake hands after Baltar accepted. Very telling indeed, considering she had a handshake and kiss when she first came face to face with political opponent (and threat to her life) Tom Zarek. No, even though Baltar accepts, helping her out, making her political life so much easier, and eliminating the Zarek threat because of Baltar's own ability to charm the public and media, she can't be bothered to even extend the courtesy of a handshake or friendly tone. It's fitting that the scene takes place in a washroom, because Roslin essentially treats Baltar like a piece of used toilet paper - something that's been necessary, but something she doesn't want to be around. Here's a president who's either way too confident of her status as absolute ruler, or someone who's still got a helluva lot to learn about finesse in politics. Or both.
In "Kobol's Last Gleaming" parts 1 & 2, the fleet discovers Kobol, the original homeworld of the Colonial civilization (at least in its current incarnation - as we'll find out later in the series), and it runs into a major rift in its power structure between Roslin and Adama, while Boomer's depression and identity crisis finally resolve themselves in a way that will have near-tragic consequences. The discovery of Kobol comes at a time when Roslin is putting more and more faith in her kamala extract-induced visions and her perceived role in a religeous prophecy. Instead of seeing the abandoned homeworld as a source of resources and refuge, the President thinks it's only a roadsign that, if deciphered properly, can point to Earth. With this in mind, she wants to use Starbuck's captured Cylon raider to jump back to Caprica to recover an ancient arrow that can help point the way on Kobol. Problem is, Adama doesn't put much stock in religeon or drug-induced visions, and thinks the raider should be used to take out a basestar orbiting Kobol. In the ensuing confrontation, both leaders make mistakes. Roslin clearly oversteps her bounds by interfering with the military by going behind Adama's back, breaking the chain of command and inciting Starbuck to steal the raider and go AWOL on the mission to Caprica. The President also breaks her promise to keep the fact that the location of Earth is unknown confidential. After all of this, one can't blame Adama for needing to take some sort of action - Roslin has overtly undermined his authority and cannot be trusted again. That's even putting aside the fact that she's acting based on a drug-induced vision, and thus, technically, probably could be considered unfit to lead. And yet, Adama is not innocent in all of this either. He is guilty of conducting a military coup. The fact is, ultimately, as president, Roslin is the boss, and if she identifies some hare-brained mission to recover an antiquity as the priority for the survival of their people, that's the directive that has to be followed. If Adama didn't like it, he should have followed whatever process of impeachment was spelled out in existing Colonial law, accompanied by an agressive PR campaign and support of the government system's right to appoint an alternative civilian leader, rather than staging a coup.
Then there's poor Starbuck. Carrying a freighter-load of emotional baggage even before the destruction of her civilization, Starbuck's caught between the demands of two powerful personalities that she respects (essentially Mom & Dad), is feeling alienated from Apollo, and is still reeling from her encounter with Leoben. It's all a symbol of her inner conflict over the question of where she fits in, what is her destiny. Given what we learn of her true, angelic nature (lame) in the series finale, one has to wonder if this turmoil is more deeply rooted in her inner guiding-angel self struggling against the muddled human personality overtop. Things don't get any easier when she arrives on Caprica, only to have the shit beaten out of her by a Six. Sure, Starbuck puts up one hell of a fight - she is, after all, Starbuck. But the Six is stronger, faster, better. Having her fighting ego crushed pretty quickly like that (despite her eventual win) is only a precurser to the real kick to reality she receives when she finds Helo alive (which is good), accompanied by Sharon - very bad, because as far as Starbuck knows, Boomer's back with the fleet. The fact that Sharon is a Cylon agent, that her friend is actually an entity committed to destroying her people, is too much to handle, and Starbuck has a meltdown. And again, knowing what we know about Starbuck as of the end of the series, I'm forced to wonder if this little breakdown isn't another manifestation of the struggle going on within Starbuck herself. As the Vorlons illustrated painfully clearly to Sheridan and Delenn, the most painful question in the universe is "Who are you?"
And clearly, Starbuck isn't the only one grappling with this question. Aboard Galactica, Boomer has been in crisis for some time. The bombing of the ship's water tanks, the explosive beneath her ejection seat, the blackouts, would have been enough to put Boomer into a tailspin as it is. Her breakup with the Chief (her former lover, but as we find out at the end of the series, one of her creators, and thus father of a sort - definitely some kind of weird Elektra thing going on, definitely a formula for mindfucking even the most healthy personality) has caused her even more hurt. As the episode begins, Boomer has hit bottom and is suicidal. Not knowing who she is, feeling that there's no-one there for her, has put her in a dangerous place. Talking with Baltar turns out to be near-fatal. Baltar's been many things up to this point, weak, cowardly, selfish, vindictive, spiteful, manipulative, but this is the first time he's been truly evil. Baltar knows that he has an opportunity to say something supportive that might help Boomer get to a place where she won't harm herself. He even knows he could do this and then exploit her vulnerability and seduce her. Instead, recognizing that she's a Cylon and thus a threat to himself, he says something carefully calculated to push this hurting individual over the edge. Say what you will about the need to defend yourself against an enemy that's exterminated your people and is likely to eventually kill you as well, what Baltar did was inhuman. Does she survive her attempt to shoot herself because she changes her mind at the last minute, or is it the submerged Cylon personality kicking in to save itself? We'll never know. In either case, it's in this conflicted state that Boomer accepts the mission to destroy the basestar over Kobol. But given the highly dangerous nature of the assignment, one might wonder if Boomer's just taking it as another way of trying to kill herself. Meeting her fellow Eights resolves her identity crisis though. Or does it? Is shooting Adama an act of her Cylon personality? Or is it the Boomer overlay personality concluding that since it's a Cylon, it might as well do what a Cylon would be expected to do, and in assassinating the Commander, find another way to guarantee that her live would end?
It's a season finale that leaves the fleet without its two strongest leaders and two of its best pilots.
See you next season.
In "Colonial Day" all eyes, for once, are not on Galactica. Instead the fleet devotes its entire attention to the political battles taking place aboard the Rising Star. The movers and shakers among the refugees have gathered aboard the luxury liner to convene the Quorum of the Colonies - the Colonial parliament, where their newly elected representatives will attend to the government business of their civilization. But a wrench is thrown into the works when it's announced that terrorist and prison ship uprising leader Tom Zarek appears as a duly-elected representative of Saggitaron and forces the issue of the election of a Vice-President. For Roslin, it's a matter of life and death - beyond politics, because if Zarek wins the Vice-Presidential election, her days could be numbered. It's a great episode for showing some of the political battles that go on behind the scenes in any society, and for peeling back more layers from some of the lead characters. It's a chance to see the degree of Ellen Tigh's aspirations, to the point where she'll deal with anyone, even a known terrorist, if she thinks it'll get her a more privileged position in life. There's certainly more than a hint that her complimentary day aboard the Rising Star that she tells the Colonel about later is due to the fact that she divulged the location of where the assassin was being held to Zarek. With Zarek, we see his ability to turn on the charisma and make the cameras work to his advantage as he tries a legitimate drive at power, even as he keeps a retinue of prison barge thugs around him to intimidate others, and, let's face it, assassinate anyone who gets in his way (or who might implicate him in the plot to smuggle a gun aboard the ship and kill... someone who gets in his way). For Roslin, the epi reveals that she's not just a capable administrator, she's also a masterful political player. But not quite masterful enough... the scene were she invites Baltar to run for Vice-President is proof that she isn't quite the expert player she thinks she is or that she ought to be. Prior to the meeting, she said that meeting with Baltar was one of two unpleasant things she had to take care of. There's a mistake right off the bat - working with someone you don't trust or like. Now, in the political arena, no-one would argue against the fact that sometimes this is a necessity, but in order to work with those one finds objectionable, the good politician must at least keep a game face on. Roslin has no idea what a game face is. When she goes into the men's room to extend her offer to Baltar, she doesn't even make the effort to sound friendly, and she certainly doesn't extend her hand (even though he's made a point of washing his). It was very telling where she abruptly left the room without offering to shake hands after Baltar accepted. Very telling indeed, considering she had a handshake and kiss when she first came face to face with political opponent (and threat to her life) Tom Zarek. No, even though Baltar accepts, helping her out, making her political life so much easier, and eliminating the Zarek threat because of Baltar's own ability to charm the public and media, she can't be bothered to even extend the courtesy of a handshake or friendly tone. It's fitting that the scene takes place in a washroom, because Roslin essentially treats Baltar like a piece of used toilet paper - something that's been necessary, but something she doesn't want to be around. Here's a president who's either way too confident of her status as absolute ruler, or someone who's still got a helluva lot to learn about finesse in politics. Or both.
In "Kobol's Last Gleaming" parts 1 & 2, the fleet discovers Kobol, the original homeworld of the Colonial civilization (at least in its current incarnation - as we'll find out later in the series), and it runs into a major rift in its power structure between Roslin and Adama, while Boomer's depression and identity crisis finally resolve themselves in a way that will have near-tragic consequences. The discovery of Kobol comes at a time when Roslin is putting more and more faith in her kamala extract-induced visions and her perceived role in a religeous prophecy. Instead of seeing the abandoned homeworld as a source of resources and refuge, the President thinks it's only a roadsign that, if deciphered properly, can point to Earth. With this in mind, she wants to use Starbuck's captured Cylon raider to jump back to Caprica to recover an ancient arrow that can help point the way on Kobol. Problem is, Adama doesn't put much stock in religeon or drug-induced visions, and thinks the raider should be used to take out a basestar orbiting Kobol. In the ensuing confrontation, both leaders make mistakes. Roslin clearly oversteps her bounds by interfering with the military by going behind Adama's back, breaking the chain of command and inciting Starbuck to steal the raider and go AWOL on the mission to Caprica. The President also breaks her promise to keep the fact that the location of Earth is unknown confidential. After all of this, one can't blame Adama for needing to take some sort of action - Roslin has overtly undermined his authority and cannot be trusted again. That's even putting aside the fact that she's acting based on a drug-induced vision, and thus, technically, probably could be considered unfit to lead. And yet, Adama is not innocent in all of this either. He is guilty of conducting a military coup. The fact is, ultimately, as president, Roslin is the boss, and if she identifies some hare-brained mission to recover an antiquity as the priority for the survival of their people, that's the directive that has to be followed. If Adama didn't like it, he should have followed whatever process of impeachment was spelled out in existing Colonial law, accompanied by an agressive PR campaign and support of the government system's right to appoint an alternative civilian leader, rather than staging a coup.
Then there's poor Starbuck. Carrying a freighter-load of emotional baggage even before the destruction of her civilization, Starbuck's caught between the demands of two powerful personalities that she respects (essentially Mom & Dad), is feeling alienated from Apollo, and is still reeling from her encounter with Leoben. It's all a symbol of her inner conflict over the question of where she fits in, what is her destiny. Given what we learn of her true, angelic nature (lame) in the series finale, one has to wonder if this turmoil is more deeply rooted in her inner guiding-angel self struggling against the muddled human personality overtop. Things don't get any easier when she arrives on Caprica, only to have the shit beaten out of her by a Six. Sure, Starbuck puts up one hell of a fight - she is, after all, Starbuck. But the Six is stronger, faster, better. Having her fighting ego crushed pretty quickly like that (despite her eventual win) is only a precurser to the real kick to reality she receives when she finds Helo alive (which is good), accompanied by Sharon - very bad, because as far as Starbuck knows, Boomer's back with the fleet. The fact that Sharon is a Cylon agent, that her friend is actually an entity committed to destroying her people, is too much to handle, and Starbuck has a meltdown. And again, knowing what we know about Starbuck as of the end of the series, I'm forced to wonder if this little breakdown isn't another manifestation of the struggle going on within Starbuck herself. As the Vorlons illustrated painfully clearly to Sheridan and Delenn, the most painful question in the universe is "Who are you?"
And clearly, Starbuck isn't the only one grappling with this question. Aboard Galactica, Boomer has been in crisis for some time. The bombing of the ship's water tanks, the explosive beneath her ejection seat, the blackouts, would have been enough to put Boomer into a tailspin as it is. Her breakup with the Chief (her former lover, but as we find out at the end of the series, one of her creators, and thus father of a sort - definitely some kind of weird Elektra thing going on, definitely a formula for mindfucking even the most healthy personality) has caused her even more hurt. As the episode begins, Boomer has hit bottom and is suicidal. Not knowing who she is, feeling that there's no-one there for her, has put her in a dangerous place. Talking with Baltar turns out to be near-fatal. Baltar's been many things up to this point, weak, cowardly, selfish, vindictive, spiteful, manipulative, but this is the first time he's been truly evil. Baltar knows that he has an opportunity to say something supportive that might help Boomer get to a place where she won't harm herself. He even knows he could do this and then exploit her vulnerability and seduce her. Instead, recognizing that she's a Cylon and thus a threat to himself, he says something carefully calculated to push this hurting individual over the edge. Say what you will about the need to defend yourself against an enemy that's exterminated your people and is likely to eventually kill you as well, what Baltar did was inhuman. Does she survive her attempt to shoot herself because she changes her mind at the last minute, or is it the submerged Cylon personality kicking in to save itself? We'll never know. In either case, it's in this conflicted state that Boomer accepts the mission to destroy the basestar over Kobol. But given the highly dangerous nature of the assignment, one might wonder if Boomer's just taking it as another way of trying to kill herself. Meeting her fellow Eights resolves her identity crisis though. Or does it? Is shooting Adama an act of her Cylon personality? Or is it the Boomer overlay personality concluding that since it's a Cylon, it might as well do what a Cylon would be expected to do, and in assassinating the Commander, find another way to guarantee that her live would end?
It's a season finale that leaves the fleet without its two strongest leaders and two of its best pilots.
See you next season.
Top 5 Drinks of SF
Let's face it, whether you're racing across a distant galaxy at faster-than-light speeds, or trudging through some mystical forest on an epic quest to find a magic jewel or something, living in the worlds of science fiction and fantasy is thirsty work. And whether the beverages (alcoholic or not) quaffed by our thirsty heroes are the focus of intense discussion or merely background set pieces, the drinks that are served are often the trivia that spring to mind most readily when fans are discussing finer details of their favourite SF. As the boys from Monty Python once sang "I drink, therefore I am!" If you were to saunter into Callahan's, or The Green Dragon, or some dive bar in Mos Eisley, or anywhere else in the SF omniverse, you might wave the bartender over and order a round of brevari, raktajino, beer (from any brewery), pumpkin juice, warnog, jovian sunspots, or ambrosia, but there are some drinks that rise above the rest. Let's whet our whistles with:
The Top 5 Drinks of SF
5) Blue milk (Star Wars - Episode IV A New Hope) - What's the one thing that everyone remembers about the Lars homestead on Tatooine in the first Star Wars movie? It isn't the oil bath, the toy shuttle in the garage, or the fact that the house is a big hole in the ground. It's the blue milk that Luke, Uncle Owen, and Aunt Beru drink with their meal while discussing whether young Master Skywalker will remain at home and be a bumpkin or head off in pursuit of higher education at the fleet academy and become a jackbooted cog in the repressive Imperial war machine. Why? Because we've all bee indoctrinated enough with the slogans of the Dairy Board to recite without even thinking: "Milk - it does a body good" - even when it's blue. We all know that the best way to grow up to be a Force-wielding galactic hero is to build strong bones and muscles with a tall, frosty glass of blue milk every day. For those of you who are azure lactose intolerant, you're out of luck. No Jedi knighthood for you.
4) Blood wine (Star Trek franchise) - You may occasionally hear talk of Klingons throwing back tankards of warnog or hooking the Alpha Quadrant on their especially potent coffee, raktajino, but the real fuel of the glorious Klingon Empire is blood wine. Potent enough to knock a human out cold after just a few sips (unless he's taken an alcohol inhibitor), blood wine is the drink of heroes who have come home from beheading enemies, laying waste to planets and slaughtering the entire race of cute and cuddly Tribbles.
3) The Pan Galactic Gargleblaster (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) - Invented by renegade galactic president Zaphod Beeblebrox, according to the Guide, it is the best drink in existence, "the effect of which is like having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick." If it's the best, why isn't it in first place? Well, if very few beings in existence can drink more than one, and if there are several rehabilitation centres that exist to help those who have consumed one recover, then perhaps it's too potent to be the best, at least, in any practical sense. I know, I know, even saying this might mean that I'll never be able to show my face in the Zaphod Beeblebrox bar in Ottawa, but I stand by my words and that's a risk I'll have to take.
2) Water of Life (Dune) - Who'd have thought that vomit from a drowned sandworm would be the key to getting your Freman party rockin'? Yes, it's guaranteed to give the whole tribe a buzz that'll let them break the funk out for a day or two before they slither off to war against the Harkonens, but the real draw of the Water of Life is that it lets you see the future - not just think you're seeing the future like a few too many stubby bottles of skunky u-brew from the guy down the street might do - but actually see the future in all its permutations, and maybe even set up a genetic chat line to all of your ancestors. The only drawback, and this is what puts it in the number two spot, is that in its initial state, it's lethal. Having to concentrate on having your body alter the chemical structure of the drink so that the poison is rendered harmless is no way to start your first shooter.
1) Magic Potion from a Six-Demon Bag (Big Trouble in Little China) - It lets you "see things no-one else can see, do things no-one else can do", and makes you feel "good, kinda invincible", if a bit warm. It's main advantage over the Water of Life is that it won't kill you. It also can summon a pretty good belch. 'Nuff said.
So what SF drink would you toss back if you could?
The Top 5 Drinks of SF
5) Blue milk (Star Wars - Episode IV A New Hope) - What's the one thing that everyone remembers about the Lars homestead on Tatooine in the first Star Wars movie? It isn't the oil bath, the toy shuttle in the garage, or the fact that the house is a big hole in the ground. It's the blue milk that Luke, Uncle Owen, and Aunt Beru drink with their meal while discussing whether young Master Skywalker will remain at home and be a bumpkin or head off in pursuit of higher education at the fleet academy and become a jackbooted cog in the repressive Imperial war machine. Why? Because we've all bee indoctrinated enough with the slogans of the Dairy Board to recite without even thinking: "Milk - it does a body good" - even when it's blue. We all know that the best way to grow up to be a Force-wielding galactic hero is to build strong bones and muscles with a tall, frosty glass of blue milk every day. For those of you who are azure lactose intolerant, you're out of luck. No Jedi knighthood for you.
4) Blood wine (Star Trek franchise) - You may occasionally hear talk of Klingons throwing back tankards of warnog or hooking the Alpha Quadrant on their especially potent coffee, raktajino, but the real fuel of the glorious Klingon Empire is blood wine. Potent enough to knock a human out cold after just a few sips (unless he's taken an alcohol inhibitor), blood wine is the drink of heroes who have come home from beheading enemies, laying waste to planets and slaughtering the entire race of cute and cuddly Tribbles.
3) The Pan Galactic Gargleblaster (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) - Invented by renegade galactic president Zaphod Beeblebrox, according to the Guide, it is the best drink in existence, "the effect of which is like having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick." If it's the best, why isn't it in first place? Well, if very few beings in existence can drink more than one, and if there are several rehabilitation centres that exist to help those who have consumed one recover, then perhaps it's too potent to be the best, at least, in any practical sense. I know, I know, even saying this might mean that I'll never be able to show my face in the Zaphod Beeblebrox bar in Ottawa, but I stand by my words and that's a risk I'll have to take.
2) Water of Life (Dune) - Who'd have thought that vomit from a drowned sandworm would be the key to getting your Freman party rockin'? Yes, it's guaranteed to give the whole tribe a buzz that'll let them break the funk out for a day or two before they slither off to war against the Harkonens, but the real draw of the Water of Life is that it lets you see the future - not just think you're seeing the future like a few too many stubby bottles of skunky u-brew from the guy down the street might do - but actually see the future in all its permutations, and maybe even set up a genetic chat line to all of your ancestors. The only drawback, and this is what puts it in the number two spot, is that in its initial state, it's lethal. Having to concentrate on having your body alter the chemical structure of the drink so that the poison is rendered harmless is no way to start your first shooter.
1) Magic Potion from a Six-Demon Bag (Big Trouble in Little China) - It lets you "see things no-one else can see, do things no-one else can do", and makes you feel "good, kinda invincible", if a bit warm. It's main advantage over the Water of Life is that it won't kill you. It also can summon a pretty good belch. 'Nuff said.
So what SF drink would you toss back if you could?
Blogging Battlestar - Zen, Ambrosia, and Blowing Shit Up
On the menue for tonight's Battlestar Galactica rewatch: "Flesh and Bone", "Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down", and "The Hand of God".
In "Flesh and Bone", a Leoben model is discovered aboard one of the ships of the fleet and Starbuck is dispatched to interrogate him. Here we see the line between the "goodguys" of the fleet and the "badguy" Cylons blur pretty thoroughly as Kara starts in with the torture. Sure the Cylons are responsible for genocide, but (and this is putting aside what many experts agree is the highly questionable validity of information gleaned from it) the viciousness necessary to administer torture, and Starbuck's willingness to administer it (even justifying it as simply as "He's a machine, there are no limits to what I can do.") certainly don't cast her in a good light - in fact, the ongoing brutality forces one to remember Adama's words in the pilot about people still committing acts of violence, and his questioning of whether humanity deserved to survive.
Meanwhile, there's a very interesting aside moment when Boomer checks in with Baltar to volunteer to beta test his Cylon detector. As I've mentioned before, it's those quick little flashes of emotion on Six's face that tell us so much about the Cylons, and the same thing happens here. When Baltar gives Boomer his greeting/come-on, we see a scowl on the face of the "angelic" Six behind him, and for the rest of the encounter her body language is stiff and guarded. Now, for a character who turns out to be, by the end of the series, an angel, this makes absolutely no sense. The imaginary Six, to date, and for the rest of the series, has absolutely no problem with Baltar fucking half of the fleet, so long as his mind remains hers. Why now this awful stab of jealousy towards Boomer. Sure she's an undercover Cylon, but why should that matter to an angel? We know from their behaviour in previous episodes that the Sixes have it in for the Eights, but again, that should be completely irrelevant to an angel. And yet, this angel is pretty unhappy to see Boomer anywhere near her Gaius. Here's one of the first big stumbles of the writing team. At this point, when we saw the series for the first time, we saw the imaginary Six and figured she was a delusion of Baltar's or some kind of Cylon neuro implant. Both of which would completely make sense in terms of accounting for the imaginary Six's dislike of Boomer in this scene. But, as viewers who've already seen the entire series through to its to some degree questionable ending, a rewatch makes this scene very strange, because we know Six is an angel, and so her snarl of jealousy is just plain baffling. At least the mystery of of the Shelley Godfrey Six's disappearance from the Galactica in "Six Degrees of Separation" is explained satisfactorally in The Plan, but no such explanation is forthcoming for this discrepency. More to come on this front.
On to "Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down", one of Edward James Olmos' (Commander Adama) directorial contributions to the series. It's also one of the few episodes that really tries to be funny. I've heard a lot of people take potshots at this epi, but I think it's pretty good. A nice change of pace (and one that's needed from time to time) from the sturm und drang of day-to-day refugee survival. The humour works and it's as good a way as any to introduce Colonel Tigh's trouble-making wife Ellen, because the fact of the matter is that Mrs Tigh is such a petty, conniving, manipulative, occasionally stupid, destructive force, that treating her arrival any other way would have required such a degree of menace and sadness that it would have been too hard to watch. It also highlights that even under stress, the ridiculous can and will air its head from time to time, and if you're not the one who's embroiled in it, it's pretty funny. Of course, the episode does end on a serious note when Baltar gives the "results" of his test - he tells everyone that Ellen his human, but then confesses to Six that he'll never tell anyone what the real test result was. At least, by playing coy, this time the writers avoided telling us something that would have created a difficult-to-explain-away inconsistency later. Here they've left it wide open so they can exploit it at the end of the series to make Ellen the last of the Final Five.
"The Hand of God" is all about blowin' shit up. And a magnificent job it does of it too. Just a straight-forward story about the Galactica's crew figuring out how they're going to get their mitts on an asteroid loaded with tylium that's in the clutches of the Cylons. Okay, okay, there's the odd cutaway to Caprica to check-in with Helo & Sharon and where, courtesy of a cold-can-of-beans-induced bout of puking, we discover the important fact that the first human-Cylon hybrid is on the way. But it's still mainly a story about people in fighers blowin' shit up. And what a great job it does of it. Exciting battle scenes with some nice nods to SF antiquity. The first was when the decoy mining ships blow their cargo containers, revealing that they're acting as pocket carriers full of vipers ready to launch the real attack - an allusion to the pilot of the old series where the Cylons coverly made their way into Colonial space during the peace treaty signing hiding their raiders in freighters. Then of course there's the general image of vipers flying across the surface of an alien body trying to ignite tylium to destroy Cylons, except in this case it's an asteroid and a Cylon refinery base, rather than the old series with Starbuck & Apollo single-handedly (or would that be double-handedly?) igniting the surface of the insect planet Carillon to destroy a pair of basestars. Lastly, Apollo's run down the canyon and through the conveyor tunnel was a total love letter to the Death Star attacks in Star Wars and Return of the Jedi.
The only thing that bugged me about this episode was during the planning of the attack when the military types called-in Baltar to identify the best part of the Cylon base to hit to cause maximum damage. Now Baltar may be their Cylon expert, but what precisely does that have to do with tylium mining and refining? Wouldn't they have been better served calling in some of the senior staff from the fleet's tylium mining and refinery ships? That is their bread and butter after all. But, they had to find a way to leverage this epi into another public display of Baltar's vital role for thei fleet's survival. Ah well. This logical hiccup certainly wasn't enough to take away from the enjoyability of this episode.
In "Flesh and Bone", a Leoben model is discovered aboard one of the ships of the fleet and Starbuck is dispatched to interrogate him. Here we see the line between the "goodguys" of the fleet and the "badguy" Cylons blur pretty thoroughly as Kara starts in with the torture. Sure the Cylons are responsible for genocide, but (and this is putting aside what many experts agree is the highly questionable validity of information gleaned from it) the viciousness necessary to administer torture, and Starbuck's willingness to administer it (even justifying it as simply as "He's a machine, there are no limits to what I can do.") certainly don't cast her in a good light - in fact, the ongoing brutality forces one to remember Adama's words in the pilot about people still committing acts of violence, and his questioning of whether humanity deserved to survive.
Meanwhile, there's a very interesting aside moment when Boomer checks in with Baltar to volunteer to beta test his Cylon detector. As I've mentioned before, it's those quick little flashes of emotion on Six's face that tell us so much about the Cylons, and the same thing happens here. When Baltar gives Boomer his greeting/come-on, we see a scowl on the face of the "angelic" Six behind him, and for the rest of the encounter her body language is stiff and guarded. Now, for a character who turns out to be, by the end of the series, an angel, this makes absolutely no sense. The imaginary Six, to date, and for the rest of the series, has absolutely no problem with Baltar fucking half of the fleet, so long as his mind remains hers. Why now this awful stab of jealousy towards Boomer. Sure she's an undercover Cylon, but why should that matter to an angel? We know from their behaviour in previous episodes that the Sixes have it in for the Eights, but again, that should be completely irrelevant to an angel. And yet, this angel is pretty unhappy to see Boomer anywhere near her Gaius. Here's one of the first big stumbles of the writing team. At this point, when we saw the series for the first time, we saw the imaginary Six and figured she was a delusion of Baltar's or some kind of Cylon neuro implant. Both of which would completely make sense in terms of accounting for the imaginary Six's dislike of Boomer in this scene. But, as viewers who've already seen the entire series through to its to some degree questionable ending, a rewatch makes this scene very strange, because we know Six is an angel, and so her snarl of jealousy is just plain baffling. At least the mystery of of the Shelley Godfrey Six's disappearance from the Galactica in "Six Degrees of Separation" is explained satisfactorally in The Plan, but no such explanation is forthcoming for this discrepency. More to come on this front.
On to "Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down", one of Edward James Olmos' (Commander Adama) directorial contributions to the series. It's also one of the few episodes that really tries to be funny. I've heard a lot of people take potshots at this epi, but I think it's pretty good. A nice change of pace (and one that's needed from time to time) from the sturm und drang of day-to-day refugee survival. The humour works and it's as good a way as any to introduce Colonel Tigh's trouble-making wife Ellen, because the fact of the matter is that Mrs Tigh is such a petty, conniving, manipulative, occasionally stupid, destructive force, that treating her arrival any other way would have required such a degree of menace and sadness that it would have been too hard to watch. It also highlights that even under stress, the ridiculous can and will air its head from time to time, and if you're not the one who's embroiled in it, it's pretty funny. Of course, the episode does end on a serious note when Baltar gives the "results" of his test - he tells everyone that Ellen his human, but then confesses to Six that he'll never tell anyone what the real test result was. At least, by playing coy, this time the writers avoided telling us something that would have created a difficult-to-explain-away inconsistency later. Here they've left it wide open so they can exploit it at the end of the series to make Ellen the last of the Final Five.
"The Hand of God" is all about blowin' shit up. And a magnificent job it does of it too. Just a straight-forward story about the Galactica's crew figuring out how they're going to get their mitts on an asteroid loaded with tylium that's in the clutches of the Cylons. Okay, okay, there's the odd cutaway to Caprica to check-in with Helo & Sharon and where, courtesy of a cold-can-of-beans-induced bout of puking, we discover the important fact that the first human-Cylon hybrid is on the way. But it's still mainly a story about people in fighers blowin' shit up. And what a great job it does of it. Exciting battle scenes with some nice nods to SF antiquity. The first was when the decoy mining ships blow their cargo containers, revealing that they're acting as pocket carriers full of vipers ready to launch the real attack - an allusion to the pilot of the old series where the Cylons coverly made their way into Colonial space during the peace treaty signing hiding their raiders in freighters. Then of course there's the general image of vipers flying across the surface of an alien body trying to ignite tylium to destroy Cylons, except in this case it's an asteroid and a Cylon refinery base, rather than the old series with Starbuck & Apollo single-handedly (or would that be double-handedly?) igniting the surface of the insect planet Carillon to destroy a pair of basestars. Lastly, Apollo's run down the canyon and through the conveyor tunnel was a total love letter to the Death Star attacks in Star Wars and Return of the Jedi.
The only thing that bugged me about this episode was during the planning of the attack when the military types called-in Baltar to identify the best part of the Cylon base to hit to cause maximum damage. Now Baltar may be their Cylon expert, but what precisely does that have to do with tylium mining and refining? Wouldn't they have been better served calling in some of the senior staff from the fleet's tylium mining and refinery ships? That is their bread and butter after all. But, they had to find a way to leverage this epi into another public display of Baltar's vital role for thei fleet's survival. Ah well. This logical hiccup certainly wasn't enough to take away from the enjoyability of this episode.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Blogging Battlestar - Trials and Tribulations
For tonight's Battlestar Galactica rewatch, a double feature: "Litmus" and "Six Degrees of Separation".
The dominant plotline of "Litmus" concerns Sergeant Hadrian's McCarthy-esque witchhunt for Cylon sleeper agents in the wake of a suicide bombing by a Dorrel aboard Galactica. What's most interesting about Hadrian's overzealousness to uncover a conspiracy isn't that she goes out of line to the point of putting Commander Adama to the question, because, after all, Adama knew that fear of sleeper agents would make people paranoid, and Roslin warned that tribunals can turn on unexpected people in improper ways. Nor is it interesting in the sense that Hadrian's clearly subscribing to the philosphy that a good offence is the best defence, in an effort to hide the obvious, catastrophic inability of her security staff to stop a man from killing a guard and stealing weapons, and their inability to tell that a man's walking through the corridors with a butt-load of explosives strapped under his jacket. No, what's interesting about Hadrian's ferocity is that she keeps coming back to the improper, concealed relationship between the Chief and Boomer, even though that relationship's relevance is sketchy at best. It's so vicious, in fact, that I have to wonder if it's personal, if this is a bit of scorned woman syndrome at work here. Maybe it's simpler than that, maybe she's just getting back at the Chief for pulling rank on her (or at least putting her in her place reminding her that he holds a higher rank) during the early stages of her investigation. But her intensity seems to be more than that would warrant. Admittedly, there's nothing in the earlier episodes (and I think she only appeared in one prior epi - the one with the drone that accidentally goes off in the hanger, killing 13 pilots) to indicate Hadrian had eyes for the Chief, so maybe I'm reading too much into this. But really, her attitude in trying to impale the Chief and Boomer for their relationship goes beyond the investigative, even the paranoid, into the angrily personal. She wants revenge on someone because she wants someone and can't have him (or her?!).
Meanwhile, back on Caprica, another trial of sorts is taking place: the Cylons are setting the stage for Helo and Sharon's love on the run, and part of that involves hurting Sharon to make sure she looks like she's really had it hard in the metal clutches of the centurians. And the rooftop beating is a very interesting scene. Not out of some adolescent thrill for an imminent catfight, because this isn't a fight, Sharon isn't defending herself, and there's no thrill to seeing this kind of brutality as Six does everything short of curb-stomping the 8. What's interesting is that quick little smile Six gives before laying into Sharon, because that's the second major revelation of the state of Cylon culture that the series has given us. The first, obviously, is that at least two of the models (the Leobens and the Sixes) are deeply religeous. But this feral grin as prelude to attack shows us that all is not well in terms of inter-model relations. The Sixes, or at least this Six personality, don't like the 8's. I seem to recall Dorrel asking Six at one point (perhaps in an earlier episode) whether she was jealous that Sharon was picked to fall in love with Helo and to attempt to get pregnancy. That smile shows that clearly she is. And this is one little crack between Cylon models that hints of the abyss beteween models that will tear their society apart in later seasons.
Another Six moment in the epi that's worth mentioning is the imaginary/angel Six's bullying of Baltar aboard Galactica. "Don't make me angry, Gaius. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." she snarls, following it with a gentle kiss. Damn, she was scarier with that than Bruce Banner ever was before going Hulk on some asshole.
"Six Degrees of Separation" is when it appears the chickens have finally come home to roost for Baltar - a Six appears claiming to have evidence that Baltar allowed Colonial defence security to be compromised, facilitating the holocaust that destroyed their civilization. Some great character-development moments for Baltar as his terror - and seemingly the evidence against him - mounts. It gives us the brilliant washroom scene where we see the extent to which Baltar is willing to go to cultivate allies, clear his name, and confront enemies, and getting nowhere doing it. Except, that is, to deliver one of the best lines in the entire series: "No more Mr Nice Gaius!" We also see Adama and Roslin come clean about how they feel about Baltar. And we can see in that scene at the end aboard Colonial One when Roslin is giving the apology press conference, in that one long look that Baltar gives her, that he's marked her as an enemy, that the apology is in no way personal, and that she's just made his list - a sign of things to come.
The dominant plotline of "Litmus" concerns Sergeant Hadrian's McCarthy-esque witchhunt for Cylon sleeper agents in the wake of a suicide bombing by a Dorrel aboard Galactica. What's most interesting about Hadrian's overzealousness to uncover a conspiracy isn't that she goes out of line to the point of putting Commander Adama to the question, because, after all, Adama knew that fear of sleeper agents would make people paranoid, and Roslin warned that tribunals can turn on unexpected people in improper ways. Nor is it interesting in the sense that Hadrian's clearly subscribing to the philosphy that a good offence is the best defence, in an effort to hide the obvious, catastrophic inability of her security staff to stop a man from killing a guard and stealing weapons, and their inability to tell that a man's walking through the corridors with a butt-load of explosives strapped under his jacket. No, what's interesting about Hadrian's ferocity is that she keeps coming back to the improper, concealed relationship between the Chief and Boomer, even though that relationship's relevance is sketchy at best. It's so vicious, in fact, that I have to wonder if it's personal, if this is a bit of scorned woman syndrome at work here. Maybe it's simpler than that, maybe she's just getting back at the Chief for pulling rank on her (or at least putting her in her place reminding her that he holds a higher rank) during the early stages of her investigation. But her intensity seems to be more than that would warrant. Admittedly, there's nothing in the earlier episodes (and I think she only appeared in one prior epi - the one with the drone that accidentally goes off in the hanger, killing 13 pilots) to indicate Hadrian had eyes for the Chief, so maybe I'm reading too much into this. But really, her attitude in trying to impale the Chief and Boomer for their relationship goes beyond the investigative, even the paranoid, into the angrily personal. She wants revenge on someone because she wants someone and can't have him (or her?!).
Meanwhile, back on Caprica, another trial of sorts is taking place: the Cylons are setting the stage for Helo and Sharon's love on the run, and part of that involves hurting Sharon to make sure she looks like she's really had it hard in the metal clutches of the centurians. And the rooftop beating is a very interesting scene. Not out of some adolescent thrill for an imminent catfight, because this isn't a fight, Sharon isn't defending herself, and there's no thrill to seeing this kind of brutality as Six does everything short of curb-stomping the 8. What's interesting is that quick little smile Six gives before laying into Sharon, because that's the second major revelation of the state of Cylon culture that the series has given us. The first, obviously, is that at least two of the models (the Leobens and the Sixes) are deeply religeous. But this feral grin as prelude to attack shows us that all is not well in terms of inter-model relations. The Sixes, or at least this Six personality, don't like the 8's. I seem to recall Dorrel asking Six at one point (perhaps in an earlier episode) whether she was jealous that Sharon was picked to fall in love with Helo and to attempt to get pregnancy. That smile shows that clearly she is. And this is one little crack between Cylon models that hints of the abyss beteween models that will tear their society apart in later seasons.
Another Six moment in the epi that's worth mentioning is the imaginary/angel Six's bullying of Baltar aboard Galactica. "Don't make me angry, Gaius. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry." she snarls, following it with a gentle kiss. Damn, she was scarier with that than Bruce Banner ever was before going Hulk on some asshole.
"Six Degrees of Separation" is when it appears the chickens have finally come home to roost for Baltar - a Six appears claiming to have evidence that Baltar allowed Colonial defence security to be compromised, facilitating the holocaust that destroyed their civilization. Some great character-development moments for Baltar as his terror - and seemingly the evidence against him - mounts. It gives us the brilliant washroom scene where we see the extent to which Baltar is willing to go to cultivate allies, clear his name, and confront enemies, and getting nowhere doing it. Except, that is, to deliver one of the best lines in the entire series: "No more Mr Nice Gaius!" We also see Adama and Roslin come clean about how they feel about Baltar. And we can see in that scene at the end aboard Colonial One when Roslin is giving the apology press conference, in that one long look that Baltar gives her, that he's marked her as an enemy, that the apology is in no way personal, and that she's just made his list - a sign of things to come.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Blogging Battlestar - Water, Jailbirds and Fallen Angels
It was a busy evening for the Battlestar Galactica rewatch, with "Water", "Bastille Day", "Act of Contrition" and "You Can't Go Home Again" on the roster.
"Water" was about one thing and one thing only: Boomer's melt-down as she starts to suspect she's a Cylon sleeper agent. Now, in all fairness, waking up soaking wet and not remembering taking a shower or swim with a flight suit on would be enough to send pretty much anyone off the deep end, but the real kicker for her is the bomb under her seat aboard the raptor. Great development of Boomer's character in this episode, especially the scene in the cockpit where the sleeper agent personality is blocking Boomer from seeing that the scanner readout is registering the presence of water. It's a scene where an actor could have been tempted to give it an over-the-top Shatnerian fight across one's own face treatment, but I'll give credit to Grace Park and the director for going with a light touch: a bit of concern and confusion flitting across her face a couple of times was enough to paint a great picture of an unconcious struggle between the two personalities before Boomer wins out and sees the real picture.
"Bastille Day" was a real treat for those of us who'd seen the old series when it originally aired, with former Apollo Richard Hatch making a comeback. This time, instead of playing a goody-goody constantly invoking the wisdom of his father when he wasn't screeching about the right thing to do, he's now Tom Zarek, a hardened criminal from Saggitaron on a quest for martyrdom. Here's a man with many faces: some see him as a freedom-fighter and political prisoner, others as a terrorist and murderer. And Hatch does a brilliant job of trying to paint the picture of the former image, arguing about trammelled rights and governments that exist for the people. But the real man shows his face when Apollo outs Zarek's plan to actually have the military raid on the prison ship succeed in killing himself and all of the prisoners. It's all about a final PR stunt. And then there's the scene where one of the other prisoners has tried to rape Cali and then shot her - rather than try to stop the man from waving a gun around, rather than stand up for Cali as any real person who believes in freedom and equalit would, he stands by, prepared to let it happen, and screams at Apollo about how it's the fault of Apollo's system of government for making his friend into an animal. We see Zarek's true colours are pretty much gang colours. In fact, as the season developes, we later see how all his talk about freedom, equality and a new way of doing things is just a facade for his own lust for supreme power - we see Zarek as a Stalin in the making. But for all its unpleasantness, this was a gripping, well-written episode. Moreso because despite Zarek's despicable nature, it shows he may be a little bit right about a few things - President Roslin certainly seems incensed at the prospect of an upcoming election, and one wonders if she's been quietly happy with the convenient dictatorship of necessity she's been running (something that pops its head up again every now and again in other seasons too). Ultimately, in one quick scene at the end, we see Rosalin's dark side - she's not the goody-goody Adama dismissed her as in the miniseries pilot, she's someone who used to be a teacher, and one who can be nice to the students, but one who also, in no uncertain terms thinks of herself as the sole adult in the room who is to be obeyed and she likes it that way. She may smile, but she's a velvet sledgehammer. The only thing that bothered me about this episode was Apollo's resolution to the crisis didn't have quite the finesse I would have expected... Guarantee an election? Sure. Makes sense. Allow the prisoners to earn freedom points through hard labour? You bet. Giving control of the Astral Queen over to the prisoners? Um, okay, maybe. But what Apollo should have done - and didn't (and perhaps this was shortsightedness on his part that the writers deliberately left in), would have been to add the condition that while the other prisoners could work for their freedom, Zarek would have to remain behind bars for another life term for inciting riot, taking hostages, and as an accessory to the assault on Cali. With Zarek behind bars but back in the spotlight, it might have made for some interesting plotlines, but, I can't really fault how things panned out. He may be detestable, but Zarek makes for some of the most riveting moments on the show.
"Acts of Contrition" forces Starbuck to deal with some ugly stuff she'd rather not, her abilities as a flight instructor, which brings her guilt over Zack Adama's death lurching back to life, and the necessity of finally coming clean with Commander Adama about the truth behind his son's death. Some great Starbuck moments in this episode, especially when she has to fess-up to Adama. The training of the "nuggets" is a good sub-plot as well, if for no other reason than it addresses a necessity of the fleet's refugee existence: even if 13 pilots hadn't been wiped out at the start of the episode, Galactica would eventually have been forced to start recruiting new pilots anyway to either increase their attack force, provide better shifting, or make up for natural attrition through combat. Among the trainees are Hotdog, who makes it through until the end of the series, and Cat, who doesn't, but has some interesting moments. Despite Starbuck's status as an "angel" (oops! we're not supposed to know that lame fact yet, are we?), she's quite the demon to her trainees. Sure, some hardness is justified to get them combat-ready, but Kara goes over the top, overcompensating for going easy on Zack. But in the end, this angel takes a fall when her battle against a Cylon squadron results in a crash on a harsh planet.
Which leads us to the second half of this episode: "You Can't Go Home Again". Starbuck having to salvage the downed Cylon fighter in order to return to the fleet was a brilliant nod to the episode from the old series (the even more abominable second season) where Dirk Bennedict's Starbuck has to work with a Cylon, a-la Robinson Crusoe, to survive when marooned on an alien world. Meanwhile, Roslin grows increasingly concerned over Adama & Apollo's determination to stay and search for Kara despite the drain on resources and risk to the fleet. This 2-part episode is also where we're introduced to crusty old Doc Cotttle, who always kind of reminded me of Hawkeye on MASH - if Hawkeye had stayed in the military, stopped chasing women, and tipped the balance and became more cynical than wacky. Another strange association in this episode: Helo in the diner. Yup, Helo finds out the hard way that making toast can bring down the 7-foot-tall, machine-gun-handed type of toasters on you. And yet, when I saw that piece of bad news shaping up, and the camera cut back to the toaster for a second, what did I flash back to? Red Dwarf, series 1, with the annoying AI-enhanced toaster who constantly pesters Lister with "Want a piece of toast? How about an English muffin?" Strange, I know, but there it is.
"Water" was about one thing and one thing only: Boomer's melt-down as she starts to suspect she's a Cylon sleeper agent. Now, in all fairness, waking up soaking wet and not remembering taking a shower or swim with a flight suit on would be enough to send pretty much anyone off the deep end, but the real kicker for her is the bomb under her seat aboard the raptor. Great development of Boomer's character in this episode, especially the scene in the cockpit where the sleeper agent personality is blocking Boomer from seeing that the scanner readout is registering the presence of water. It's a scene where an actor could have been tempted to give it an over-the-top Shatnerian fight across one's own face treatment, but I'll give credit to Grace Park and the director for going with a light touch: a bit of concern and confusion flitting across her face a couple of times was enough to paint a great picture of an unconcious struggle between the two personalities before Boomer wins out and sees the real picture.
"Bastille Day" was a real treat for those of us who'd seen the old series when it originally aired, with former Apollo Richard Hatch making a comeback. This time, instead of playing a goody-goody constantly invoking the wisdom of his father when he wasn't screeching about the right thing to do, he's now Tom Zarek, a hardened criminal from Saggitaron on a quest for martyrdom. Here's a man with many faces: some see him as a freedom-fighter and political prisoner, others as a terrorist and murderer. And Hatch does a brilliant job of trying to paint the picture of the former image, arguing about trammelled rights and governments that exist for the people. But the real man shows his face when Apollo outs Zarek's plan to actually have the military raid on the prison ship succeed in killing himself and all of the prisoners. It's all about a final PR stunt. And then there's the scene where one of the other prisoners has tried to rape Cali and then shot her - rather than try to stop the man from waving a gun around, rather than stand up for Cali as any real person who believes in freedom and equalit would, he stands by, prepared to let it happen, and screams at Apollo about how it's the fault of Apollo's system of government for making his friend into an animal. We see Zarek's true colours are pretty much gang colours. In fact, as the season developes, we later see how all his talk about freedom, equality and a new way of doing things is just a facade for his own lust for supreme power - we see Zarek as a Stalin in the making. But for all its unpleasantness, this was a gripping, well-written episode. Moreso because despite Zarek's despicable nature, it shows he may be a little bit right about a few things - President Roslin certainly seems incensed at the prospect of an upcoming election, and one wonders if she's been quietly happy with the convenient dictatorship of necessity she's been running (something that pops its head up again every now and again in other seasons too). Ultimately, in one quick scene at the end, we see Rosalin's dark side - she's not the goody-goody Adama dismissed her as in the miniseries pilot, she's someone who used to be a teacher, and one who can be nice to the students, but one who also, in no uncertain terms thinks of herself as the sole adult in the room who is to be obeyed and she likes it that way. She may smile, but she's a velvet sledgehammer. The only thing that bothered me about this episode was Apollo's resolution to the crisis didn't have quite the finesse I would have expected... Guarantee an election? Sure. Makes sense. Allow the prisoners to earn freedom points through hard labour? You bet. Giving control of the Astral Queen over to the prisoners? Um, okay, maybe. But what Apollo should have done - and didn't (and perhaps this was shortsightedness on his part that the writers deliberately left in), would have been to add the condition that while the other prisoners could work for their freedom, Zarek would have to remain behind bars for another life term for inciting riot, taking hostages, and as an accessory to the assault on Cali. With Zarek behind bars but back in the spotlight, it might have made for some interesting plotlines, but, I can't really fault how things panned out. He may be detestable, but Zarek makes for some of the most riveting moments on the show.
"Acts of Contrition" forces Starbuck to deal with some ugly stuff she'd rather not, her abilities as a flight instructor, which brings her guilt over Zack Adama's death lurching back to life, and the necessity of finally coming clean with Commander Adama about the truth behind his son's death. Some great Starbuck moments in this episode, especially when she has to fess-up to Adama. The training of the "nuggets" is a good sub-plot as well, if for no other reason than it addresses a necessity of the fleet's refugee existence: even if 13 pilots hadn't been wiped out at the start of the episode, Galactica would eventually have been forced to start recruiting new pilots anyway to either increase their attack force, provide better shifting, or make up for natural attrition through combat. Among the trainees are Hotdog, who makes it through until the end of the series, and Cat, who doesn't, but has some interesting moments. Despite Starbuck's status as an "angel" (oops! we're not supposed to know that lame fact yet, are we?), she's quite the demon to her trainees. Sure, some hardness is justified to get them combat-ready, but Kara goes over the top, overcompensating for going easy on Zack. But in the end, this angel takes a fall when her battle against a Cylon squadron results in a crash on a harsh planet.
Which leads us to the second half of this episode: "You Can't Go Home Again". Starbuck having to salvage the downed Cylon fighter in order to return to the fleet was a brilliant nod to the episode from the old series (the even more abominable second season) where Dirk Bennedict's Starbuck has to work with a Cylon, a-la Robinson Crusoe, to survive when marooned on an alien world. Meanwhile, Roslin grows increasingly concerned over Adama & Apollo's determination to stay and search for Kara despite the drain on resources and risk to the fleet. This 2-part episode is also where we're introduced to crusty old Doc Cotttle, who always kind of reminded me of Hawkeye on MASH - if Hawkeye had stayed in the military, stopped chasing women, and tipped the balance and became more cynical than wacky. Another strange association in this episode: Helo in the diner. Yup, Helo finds out the hard way that making toast can bring down the 7-foot-tall, machine-gun-handed type of toasters on you. And yet, when I saw that piece of bad news shaping up, and the camera cut back to the toaster for a second, what did I flash back to? Red Dwarf, series 1, with the annoying AI-enhanced toaster who constantly pesters Lister with "Want a piece of toast? How about an English muffin?" Strange, I know, but there it is.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Blogging Battlestar - 33
"33", the first Battlestar Galactica episode to hit the air after the success of the pilot miniseries, is a two axe episode.
The first is the axe that hangs over the collective heads of the fleet - the Cylon attacks that occur every 33 minutes as the Colonials are hounded from jump to jump. It's a plotline of excruciating tension as the refugees, strung out on lack of sleep, wait to see if the Cylons will appear again.
Meanwhile, an axe appears over the head of Gaius Baltar - the threat that his (unintentional) treason will be discovered. Sure, there was a moment in the miniseries during the evacuation from Caprica when Baltar was recognized by Helo and feared he'd been outed, fears that turned out to be unfounded. But that's an incident that's quickly put to bed. Here, in "33", it lasts for pretty much the entire episode when he hears a scientist from another ship wants to come to talk to the president about a security breach. And while this threat is resolved when that scientist's liner disappears and is later destroyed after returning, this episode none-the-less sets the tone for Baltar's mindset, for his constant fear of being discovered, that will last for much of the series until the Cylon occupation of New Caprica. At that point, his fear of persecution switches from a past of treason to a new reality of being a collaborator.
Of course, Baltar's got something else distracting on his mind - Six. At this point, so early in the series, there's still a hell of a lot of mystery shrouding her. Sure she spouts a lot of religeous nonsense, but there's nothing at this point to indicate she's some sort of angel. Given Baltar's panicked state of mind, it would seem his own explanation of some sort of combination guilty conscience, active imagination, stress and mental breakdown is at work, or the possibility raised by the imaginary Six herself, that she's the result of some sort of chip she implanted in his brain back on Caprica. Either one of those would have served well throughout the entire series, or better yet, to keep the mystery intact, keep audiences wondering which of those possibilities it was. Instead, as we found out last spring, this Six turns out to in fact be an agent of some grand, non-corporeal entity. But we're not that far yet. At this point, the mystery is plenty good enough, and fairly unnerving in and of itself. Does it constitute an axe over Baltar's head like the fear of discovery does? Not so much, because Baltar doesn't assign any kind of threat to the Six illusion (yet) - at worst, she's a theologically pendantic annoyance; at best, a pleasantly sexy daydream.
"33" is also interesting as an episode because we see Adama and Roslin move into a real working relationship, rather than the mistrust, mutual disdain, and jousting of their initial encounters in the miniseries. When we see them on the phone during the crisis, we see honest, professional discussion and consultation, demonstrating that the writers are giving us more than one-trick ponies who force everyone to make the no-win choice between the politicians and the military like the old series did. These are people who in real life would be worthy of respect and trust.
We also see the relationship between Apollo and Starbuck continue to develop as Apollo figures out what it really means to be in command and to have to ensure that Starbuck follows orders - especially the ones she doesn't like.
"33" gives us another cool element as well - the story of Helo's survival back on Cylon-occupied Caprica. Someone who could have been a throwaway character from the pilot now has a significant plotline. This is important not only because it illuminates more of the Cylons' plan, but also because it answers that nagging question in the back of the audience's mind (a question that was never addressed in the clunky old series): what is life like for those that didn't make it off the Colonies? Here we see what it's like for a person living under an occupation, to be on the run in one's own home, having to maintain hope even though logically there is no real possibility of escape. It's also important because this thread introduces us to the other Sharon, and sets a fascinating dichotomy at work over the course of the season: as Boomer starts to come apart aboard Galactica, Sharon grows into a more grown-up, complex and full personality alongside Helo on Caprica.
"33" reminded me a lot of a moment in the movie (I can't remember if this was in the book or not) High Fidelity, where John Cusack's character talks about the intricacies of making a good mix tape for someone. He notes that you've got to start big to really turn the listener on, then, for the second selection, take it up a notch to maintain the momentum. "33" works exactly like that in relationship to the big start provided by the miniseries. What a great way to get season one of BSG under way.
The first is the axe that hangs over the collective heads of the fleet - the Cylon attacks that occur every 33 minutes as the Colonials are hounded from jump to jump. It's a plotline of excruciating tension as the refugees, strung out on lack of sleep, wait to see if the Cylons will appear again.
Meanwhile, an axe appears over the head of Gaius Baltar - the threat that his (unintentional) treason will be discovered. Sure, there was a moment in the miniseries during the evacuation from Caprica when Baltar was recognized by Helo and feared he'd been outed, fears that turned out to be unfounded. But that's an incident that's quickly put to bed. Here, in "33", it lasts for pretty much the entire episode when he hears a scientist from another ship wants to come to talk to the president about a security breach. And while this threat is resolved when that scientist's liner disappears and is later destroyed after returning, this episode none-the-less sets the tone for Baltar's mindset, for his constant fear of being discovered, that will last for much of the series until the Cylon occupation of New Caprica. At that point, his fear of persecution switches from a past of treason to a new reality of being a collaborator.
Of course, Baltar's got something else distracting on his mind - Six. At this point, so early in the series, there's still a hell of a lot of mystery shrouding her. Sure she spouts a lot of religeous nonsense, but there's nothing at this point to indicate she's some sort of angel. Given Baltar's panicked state of mind, it would seem his own explanation of some sort of combination guilty conscience, active imagination, stress and mental breakdown is at work, or the possibility raised by the imaginary Six herself, that she's the result of some sort of chip she implanted in his brain back on Caprica. Either one of those would have served well throughout the entire series, or better yet, to keep the mystery intact, keep audiences wondering which of those possibilities it was. Instead, as we found out last spring, this Six turns out to in fact be an agent of some grand, non-corporeal entity. But we're not that far yet. At this point, the mystery is plenty good enough, and fairly unnerving in and of itself. Does it constitute an axe over Baltar's head like the fear of discovery does? Not so much, because Baltar doesn't assign any kind of threat to the Six illusion (yet) - at worst, she's a theologically pendantic annoyance; at best, a pleasantly sexy daydream.
"33" is also interesting as an episode because we see Adama and Roslin move into a real working relationship, rather than the mistrust, mutual disdain, and jousting of their initial encounters in the miniseries. When we see them on the phone during the crisis, we see honest, professional discussion and consultation, demonstrating that the writers are giving us more than one-trick ponies who force everyone to make the no-win choice between the politicians and the military like the old series did. These are people who in real life would be worthy of respect and trust.
We also see the relationship between Apollo and Starbuck continue to develop as Apollo figures out what it really means to be in command and to have to ensure that Starbuck follows orders - especially the ones she doesn't like.
"33" gives us another cool element as well - the story of Helo's survival back on Cylon-occupied Caprica. Someone who could have been a throwaway character from the pilot now has a significant plotline. This is important not only because it illuminates more of the Cylons' plan, but also because it answers that nagging question in the back of the audience's mind (a question that was never addressed in the clunky old series): what is life like for those that didn't make it off the Colonies? Here we see what it's like for a person living under an occupation, to be on the run in one's own home, having to maintain hope even though logically there is no real possibility of escape. It's also important because this thread introduces us to the other Sharon, and sets a fascinating dichotomy at work over the course of the season: as Boomer starts to come apart aboard Galactica, Sharon grows into a more grown-up, complex and full personality alongside Helo on Caprica.
"33" reminded me a lot of a moment in the movie (I can't remember if this was in the book or not) High Fidelity, where John Cusack's character talks about the intricacies of making a good mix tape for someone. He notes that you've got to start big to really turn the listener on, then, for the second selection, take it up a notch to maintain the momentum. "33" works exactly like that in relationship to the big start provided by the miniseries. What a great way to get season one of BSG under way.
Blogging Battlestar
Ah, summer. Time for getting outside in the nice weather during the day, and mourning the lack of interesting television at night. Around our house, summer is the season for rerun marathons, where we grab some of our favourite SF series from the DVD shelf and power through a couple of episodes per night until the story is done. Last year it was Babylon 5 & Crusade, Firefly, Doctor Who, and The Tick (animated and live). Even though we had the complete collection of the new Battlestar Galactica (at least, once they got around to distributing the last half of the final season), we gave it a pass - it was still too fresh in our minds after the finale last spring.
But now we've had a year to distance ourselves from the experience. Now it's time to watch it through again, without the annoying season or half-season breaks or commercials. Now we can see the entire series with the special movies inserted in as close to the chronologically appropriate places as possible, along with the webisodes. Now it's time to savour what made BSG great, and give proper consideration to where it was weak.
As part of our re-watch, I plan to blog the experience: commenting in short form on the Twitter feed; babbling at length here on this site.
Tonight: the premier miniseries.
It began with the end of everything.
It began with the end of the Colonial civilzation.
It began with the end of Cylon self-control.
It began with the end of Galactica's service and Adama's career.
It began with the end of Laura Roslin's health.
It began with the end of the estrangement between Adama and Apollo.
It began with the juxtaposition of the old and the shockingly new: an old-style Colonial shuttle (giving us a nod to the old series that, despite extreme cheesiness, had enough good in it to warrant another try) and a whole new look to the Cylons - bigger, badder centurians, humanoid models that were ultra-scary in their sexiness and intensity, and angular, piercing-looking basestars that forced the eye to slide along their lines, much like Six stalking through the hall of Armistace Station.
The premier wastes no time getting down to business, with the Cylons blowing the shit out of the station and, in the process, showing that they're more than happy to sacrifice their troops, and in the cavalier nature of this, hinting at what's to come, that really, they're not sacrificing anything more than hardware - the software, the personalities behind the invasion, will keep coming back again and again.
From there it's a breathtaking sweep in towards Galactica. Same basic shape as the old concept, but sleeker, tougher, and far more dangerous-looking than the old version. This Galactica isn't the pride of the Colonial fleet either. Rather than being the second-largest battlestar behind the flagship Pacifica, this Galactica is an older model that's had her day and is ready to stand down and become a museum as she's replaced on the line by newer vessels.
Her commander is the same: Edward James Olmos as Adama is quiet and compact, but with a steely-focussed gaze and with an air of command so powerful it doesn't have to be projected - it's just there and everyone knows it. In contrast, Lorne Green was big, loud, excessively noble, dressed in flamboyant robes as often as his fleet uniform, and always seemed to be detached, his attention drifting on philosophizing on things in the distance - grand, far-off visions of ancient histories and great powers, as opposed to the down-and-dirty day-to-day survival matters Olmos grapples with.
And there are other differences among the crew: chief among them being Starbuck. The original was an ace flyboy who was kind of whiny and who was so over-the-top as a ladies' man it seemed he was overcompensating for something. The new Starbuck, Kara Thrace, is an ass-kicking, hard-drinking tomboy who's not bad to look at. What we don't know at this early moment is that she's also some kind of angel who will get the fleet to safety on Earth. But that's an unnecessary character arc within the larger story and ultimately kinda lame - okay, okay, it's very, very lame - and it's much better for the story at this point to simply focus on her as a human being.
Once the story gets going, it's incredible. All of the characters are intriguing and believably well-rounded. The pacing is a perfect balance between gut-wrenching space battles, interpersonal tension, and moments of quiet, with everything moving the story forward towards Galactica and the fleet being squeezed into a position where the only hope of survival is to run from their home system into the cold emptiness of space.
As a pilot episode, the miniseries definitely succeeds in leaving the audience wanting more. There are questions that beg to be solved (and in some cases, let's face it, beg to be solved in much more logical, satisfying, and, if nothing else, more realistic ways than they turn out to be answered by the end of the series) and characters who are engaging enough that we want to stay with them a while longer to find out what happens to them.
But the real strength of the miniseries is that it works as a stand-alone feature. It's strong enough to watch on its own and, from time to time, I've been known to pull it off the shelf and experience it again for that very reason. It tells a coherent, gripping story of a group of people dealing with the destruction of their civilization, their resolve to survive and the acceptance that to do this means fleeing rather than fighting for their homes. It's also the story of a new group coming into ascendance, though, because of their alien natures as machine intelligence, it's fitting that we only get to know a few of the Cylon characters, and then only a little bit. If NBC and the Sci Fi Channel (as it was then known), had decided not to proceed with the series after the airing of the pilot miniseries, that would have been enough - they would have created a great stand-alone feature. Sure it would have left the audience wanting to know what happened to the fleet after its escape, but the bottom line is the miniseries did a great job of telling a single, big story: that of the destruction of a civilization and the escape of its refugees in an attempt to create hope amidst an uncertain future. It bears saying again: this would have been enough.
That the series was given the green light was a sign of just how great the pilot was. Say what you will about how the series panned out over the years, the miniseries was a start that was filled with promise.
Now it's a matter of watching the other episodes of BSG to see how the writers chose to honour that promise.
But now we've had a year to distance ourselves from the experience. Now it's time to watch it through again, without the annoying season or half-season breaks or commercials. Now we can see the entire series with the special movies inserted in as close to the chronologically appropriate places as possible, along with the webisodes. Now it's time to savour what made BSG great, and give proper consideration to where it was weak.
As part of our re-watch, I plan to blog the experience: commenting in short form on the Twitter feed; babbling at length here on this site.
Tonight: the premier miniseries.
It began with the end of everything.
It began with the end of the Colonial civilzation.
It began with the end of Cylon self-control.
It began with the end of Galactica's service and Adama's career.
It began with the end of Laura Roslin's health.
It began with the end of the estrangement between Adama and Apollo.
It began with the juxtaposition of the old and the shockingly new: an old-style Colonial shuttle (giving us a nod to the old series that, despite extreme cheesiness, had enough good in it to warrant another try) and a whole new look to the Cylons - bigger, badder centurians, humanoid models that were ultra-scary in their sexiness and intensity, and angular, piercing-looking basestars that forced the eye to slide along their lines, much like Six stalking through the hall of Armistace Station.
The premier wastes no time getting down to business, with the Cylons blowing the shit out of the station and, in the process, showing that they're more than happy to sacrifice their troops, and in the cavalier nature of this, hinting at what's to come, that really, they're not sacrificing anything more than hardware - the software, the personalities behind the invasion, will keep coming back again and again.
From there it's a breathtaking sweep in towards Galactica. Same basic shape as the old concept, but sleeker, tougher, and far more dangerous-looking than the old version. This Galactica isn't the pride of the Colonial fleet either. Rather than being the second-largest battlestar behind the flagship Pacifica, this Galactica is an older model that's had her day and is ready to stand down and become a museum as she's replaced on the line by newer vessels.
Her commander is the same: Edward James Olmos as Adama is quiet and compact, but with a steely-focussed gaze and with an air of command so powerful it doesn't have to be projected - it's just there and everyone knows it. In contrast, Lorne Green was big, loud, excessively noble, dressed in flamboyant robes as often as his fleet uniform, and always seemed to be detached, his attention drifting on philosophizing on things in the distance - grand, far-off visions of ancient histories and great powers, as opposed to the down-and-dirty day-to-day survival matters Olmos grapples with.
And there are other differences among the crew: chief among them being Starbuck. The original was an ace flyboy who was kind of whiny and who was so over-the-top as a ladies' man it seemed he was overcompensating for something. The new Starbuck, Kara Thrace, is an ass-kicking, hard-drinking tomboy who's not bad to look at. What we don't know at this early moment is that she's also some kind of angel who will get the fleet to safety on Earth. But that's an unnecessary character arc within the larger story and ultimately kinda lame - okay, okay, it's very, very lame - and it's much better for the story at this point to simply focus on her as a human being.
Once the story gets going, it's incredible. All of the characters are intriguing and believably well-rounded. The pacing is a perfect balance between gut-wrenching space battles, interpersonal tension, and moments of quiet, with everything moving the story forward towards Galactica and the fleet being squeezed into a position where the only hope of survival is to run from their home system into the cold emptiness of space.
As a pilot episode, the miniseries definitely succeeds in leaving the audience wanting more. There are questions that beg to be solved (and in some cases, let's face it, beg to be solved in much more logical, satisfying, and, if nothing else, more realistic ways than they turn out to be answered by the end of the series) and characters who are engaging enough that we want to stay with them a while longer to find out what happens to them.
But the real strength of the miniseries is that it works as a stand-alone feature. It's strong enough to watch on its own and, from time to time, I've been known to pull it off the shelf and experience it again for that very reason. It tells a coherent, gripping story of a group of people dealing with the destruction of their civilization, their resolve to survive and the acceptance that to do this means fleeing rather than fighting for their homes. It's also the story of a new group coming into ascendance, though, because of their alien natures as machine intelligence, it's fitting that we only get to know a few of the Cylon characters, and then only a little bit. If NBC and the Sci Fi Channel (as it was then known), had decided not to proceed with the series after the airing of the pilot miniseries, that would have been enough - they would have created a great stand-alone feature. Sure it would have left the audience wanting to know what happened to the fleet after its escape, but the bottom line is the miniseries did a great job of telling a single, big story: that of the destruction of a civilization and the escape of its refugees in an attempt to create hope amidst an uncertain future. It bears saying again: this would have been enough.
That the series was given the green light was a sign of just how great the pilot was. Say what you will about how the series panned out over the years, the miniseries was a start that was filled with promise.
Now it's a matter of watching the other episodes of BSG to see how the writers chose to honour that promise.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
VCON Site Gets a Retro Facelift
As VCON - the Vancouver Convention of Science Fiction and Fantasy - gears up for its 35th annual gathering this fall, organizers have given the con site a steampunk facelift and it's lookin' pretty cool.
The old site design was never much to look at (like I'm one to talk!), with a generic black background, info in various columns, the Robotter, the con's official mascot, displayed prominently.
But this year organizers have decided to go with the theme: "Steampunk - from Alchemy to Zepplins" and they've tooled the site to match... sepia and brass colouring, gold leaf scrollwork, gears aplenty and a vintage Victorian poster kind of a feel. The Time Traveller and Captain Nemo would be right at home. Of course, the Robotter still adorns each page, as it should.
In keeping with the steampunk theme, Boneshaker author Cherie Priest has been invited as the con's Author Guest of Honour.
VCON 35 runs October 1-3.
The old site design was never much to look at (like I'm one to talk!), with a generic black background, info in various columns, the Robotter, the con's official mascot, displayed prominently.
But this year organizers have decided to go with the theme: "Steampunk - from Alchemy to Zepplins" and they've tooled the site to match... sepia and brass colouring, gold leaf scrollwork, gears aplenty and a vintage Victorian poster kind of a feel. The Time Traveller and Captain Nemo would be right at home. Of course, the Robotter still adorns each page, as it should.
In keeping with the steampunk theme, Boneshaker author Cherie Priest has been invited as the con's Author Guest of Honour.
VCON 35 runs October 1-3.
Come on into the Party - Predators Explosively Fun
Warning: Spoilers
(spoilage factor: about the same as any food in the pocket of a character who's parachute didn't open)
From the opening seconds where we (and the characters) plunge into the film and the gatling gun starts roaring, to its closing ass-kicking, Predators is a rollicking, bloody, summer popcorn flick.
The movie opens with the characters (accompanied by a blast of Alan Silvestri music right out of the first, Schwarzennegarian installment in the franchise), an assortment of badasses from around the world, plummeting into an alien jungle. After a round of near-fatal introductions, it's off into the woods where they gradually discover they're on another world in a game preserve where they're one of the main attractions for a trio of interstellar hunters (and their dogs!). The story takes a slight turn from the usual franchise formula when the humans wander into the hunters' encampment and discover a live Predator captive tied up. They later meet Lawrence Fishburn, the somewhat mad lone survivor of a group of humans who had been kidnapped and brought to the hunting preserve years earlier, who explains there are actually two species of Predator (the first - allegedly smaller - varient being what we saw in the first movie, the second, much uglier, revealed later in this installment), that really don't get along with each other. As the hunt continues, it becomes obvious the humans are at risk from each other as much as they are from the Predators.
Like the original Predator (and there were plenty of allusions to that film), this third installment in the franchise is completely unpretentious. It's an action flick that's about a driving pace, the occasional laugh, and a rising body count. But while it doesn't bother with philosophy, Predators is not a completely stupid movie. Lawrence Fishburn proves that during his cameo when he mocks Adrien Brody for talking about hijacking the Predators' ship.
I also thought it was interesting they way the film touched on the notion of two different Predator breeds doing their best to kill each other. A very nice nod to the plot device in the four-issue Darkhorse comic Predator - Prey to the Heavens, where Predators from two different tribes (although these are not different physically, only posessing different armor - like gang colours) spend as much time and energy hunting each other as they do the humans in the war zone. Certainly it reflects what Brody's character is talking about when he references Hemmingway's comment about men who kill men. But beyond that, with the significant facial differences, and Fishburn's comment about their sizes (although this was not apparent), it made me wonder if they were hinting at something similar to a human-Neanderthal split but where both species had survived and thrived alongside one another - sort of along the lines of what Londo mentioned in an episode of Babylon 5 where he recalls the wars between the Centauri and the Zan on his homeworld.
As far as special effects and action sequences go, there are lots of great ones to choose from. My favourite was where the Yakuza assassin and one of the Predators square off - kind of a tribute to Billy's last stand in the original. Very simple compared to the other special effect-laden fight sequences, but very, very cool.
Very nice job on the world-building details too. Pay close attention at the end when the camera's showing shots of the Predators' camp - you may notice the elongated, black skull of an Alien impaled on the top of a tree.
If there are weaknesses in this movie, one was the pretense of concealing the true nature of Topher Grace's character from the other humans. Seriously, if the audience (well, anyone in the audience who was paying attention, anyway) could pick up fairly early on what he was all about, the other characters, who, as seasoned soldiers and killers have to quickly assess people and situations in order to survive, would probably have figured him out early on, called him out, and dealt with him appropriately. Okay, Brody's character might have gotten a handle on Topher early on and just been playing along because it was in some way useful, but the others sure didn't.
Another was when Alice Braga's character, a special forces soldier, references the events of the first movie. That, in and of itself, was cool. But at the same time, it made me wonder what someone with a high-enough clearance to know about the Arnie incident in Guatamala would be doing still working as a field operative. And moreover, if she knew about that incident, why not go whole hog and have her reference Danny Glover's dust-up in LA in the second movie? Minor quibbling, I know, but something they could easily have remedied.
The last shortcoming in Predators: a total absence of memorable one-liners. In classic Schwarzenneger shoot-em-up flick style, the original had lots of great, cheesy action dialogue like "If it bleeds, we can kill it." or "Stick around!" (after a knife impales an enemy soldier), or "If you lose it here, you're in a world of hurt", the classic "I'll be back", or "Come on into the party - ol' Painless is waiting!". This one? Nothing.
But in the end, Predators is what it is, a summer action movie. Because it does a great job of delivering the action and doesn't try to pretend to be anything else, it's well worth watching. Admittedly, we got to see the movie for free (a slight hiccup in the reel during Iron Man 2 a couple of weeks ago netted us free passes, which we used tonight) but coming out of the local bazillionplex, I can say I would have been happy to pay full price.
(spoilage factor: about the same as any food in the pocket of a character who's parachute didn't open)
From the opening seconds where we (and the characters) plunge into the film and the gatling gun starts roaring, to its closing ass-kicking, Predators is a rollicking, bloody, summer popcorn flick.
The movie opens with the characters (accompanied by a blast of Alan Silvestri music right out of the first, Schwarzennegarian installment in the franchise), an assortment of badasses from around the world, plummeting into an alien jungle. After a round of near-fatal introductions, it's off into the woods where they gradually discover they're on another world in a game preserve where they're one of the main attractions for a trio of interstellar hunters (and their dogs!). The story takes a slight turn from the usual franchise formula when the humans wander into the hunters' encampment and discover a live Predator captive tied up. They later meet Lawrence Fishburn, the somewhat mad lone survivor of a group of humans who had been kidnapped and brought to the hunting preserve years earlier, who explains there are actually two species of Predator (the first - allegedly smaller - varient being what we saw in the first movie, the second, much uglier, revealed later in this installment), that really don't get along with each other. As the hunt continues, it becomes obvious the humans are at risk from each other as much as they are from the Predators.
Like the original Predator (and there were plenty of allusions to that film), this third installment in the franchise is completely unpretentious. It's an action flick that's about a driving pace, the occasional laugh, and a rising body count. But while it doesn't bother with philosophy, Predators is not a completely stupid movie. Lawrence Fishburn proves that during his cameo when he mocks Adrien Brody for talking about hijacking the Predators' ship.
I also thought it was interesting they way the film touched on the notion of two different Predator breeds doing their best to kill each other. A very nice nod to the plot device in the four-issue Darkhorse comic Predator - Prey to the Heavens, where Predators from two different tribes (although these are not different physically, only posessing different armor - like gang colours) spend as much time and energy hunting each other as they do the humans in the war zone. Certainly it reflects what Brody's character is talking about when he references Hemmingway's comment about men who kill men. But beyond that, with the significant facial differences, and Fishburn's comment about their sizes (although this was not apparent), it made me wonder if they were hinting at something similar to a human-Neanderthal split but where both species had survived and thrived alongside one another - sort of along the lines of what Londo mentioned in an episode of Babylon 5 where he recalls the wars between the Centauri and the Zan on his homeworld.
As far as special effects and action sequences go, there are lots of great ones to choose from. My favourite was where the Yakuza assassin and one of the Predators square off - kind of a tribute to Billy's last stand in the original. Very simple compared to the other special effect-laden fight sequences, but very, very cool.
Very nice job on the world-building details too. Pay close attention at the end when the camera's showing shots of the Predators' camp - you may notice the elongated, black skull of an Alien impaled on the top of a tree.
If there are weaknesses in this movie, one was the pretense of concealing the true nature of Topher Grace's character from the other humans. Seriously, if the audience (well, anyone in the audience who was paying attention, anyway) could pick up fairly early on what he was all about, the other characters, who, as seasoned soldiers and killers have to quickly assess people and situations in order to survive, would probably have figured him out early on, called him out, and dealt with him appropriately. Okay, Brody's character might have gotten a handle on Topher early on and just been playing along because it was in some way useful, but the others sure didn't.
Another was when Alice Braga's character, a special forces soldier, references the events of the first movie. That, in and of itself, was cool. But at the same time, it made me wonder what someone with a high-enough clearance to know about the Arnie incident in Guatamala would be doing still working as a field operative. And moreover, if she knew about that incident, why not go whole hog and have her reference Danny Glover's dust-up in LA in the second movie? Minor quibbling, I know, but something they could easily have remedied.
The last shortcoming in Predators: a total absence of memorable one-liners. In classic Schwarzenneger shoot-em-up flick style, the original had lots of great, cheesy action dialogue like "If it bleeds, we can kill it." or "Stick around!" (after a knife impales an enemy soldier), or "If you lose it here, you're in a world of hurt", the classic "I'll be back", or "Come on into the party - ol' Painless is waiting!". This one? Nothing.
But in the end, Predators is what it is, a summer action movie. Because it does a great job of delivering the action and doesn't try to pretend to be anything else, it's well worth watching. Admittedly, we got to see the movie for free (a slight hiccup in the reel during Iron Man 2 a couple of weeks ago netted us free passes, which we used tonight) but coming out of the local bazillionplex, I can say I would have been happy to pay full price.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Top 5 Unemployed SF Characters
I've been working on contract for the better part of the last year, and last week, my contract came to a close. Admittedly, I'm enjoying the opportunity to get a little more sleep, and to catch up on my reading (any opportunity to cut into the towering stack in my inbox is a good thing) and blogging. But I do enjoy my line of work, and I'm mindful of that strange addiction to food and shelter that we all have, so I'm looking to get into another gig soon. Being unemployed has made me think about some science fiction and fantasy characters who, for one reason or another, have been without jobs.
And so I give to you the Top 5 Unemployed SF Characters:
5) Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit & The Lord of the Rings) - This legendary halfling starts our list off for being a notorious gentleman layabout. Sure, you can argue that for the bulk of The Hobbit he's employed, albeit against his will, on a contract basis as a thief for a band of dwarves who need help settling a grudge against a dragon. But the fact is that he begins the story jobless, and happily so, and once the whole business with Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies is wrapped up, he wastes no time going back to his easygoing lifestyle that consists of eating well and avoiding most of his relations. In fact, when Frodo comes of age, Bilbo leaves home and becomes the classic epitome of the unemployed bachelor, sleeping on his friend's couch in Rivendel and in the end bumming a ride (to Valinor) when it suits him. You might argue that during his later years in the Shire and in Elrond's house Bilbo has taken up the profession of writer or historian, but because he isn't paid for this, I'd say that this activity constitutes a hobby more than a job (granted, many would point out that people who claim to write professionally often don't get paid, or get paid so little as to be considered not in a paying job and yet we say they're employed none-the-less, and I'd have a hard time arguing with this) and so would still classify him as a lord of leisure, or, at least an esquire of leisure.
4) Arthur Dent (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) - Arthur Dent is an interesting cat. Or, the friend of an interesting life form descended from cats, anyway. When the Hitchhiker's Guide opens, Arthur's in his jammies as work crews show up to tear down his house. That tells us that it's probably a weekday, because city crews are more likely to be on the job on a weekday than a weekend, and yet, amidst all of the hubbub, not once does Arthur voice any concern about all of this potentially making him late for work, something that makes me wonder if our hero is currently "between projects". All of this soon becomes irrelevant anyway, as the Earth is destroyed. From that point on, Arthur schleps from one corner of the galaxy to another in a state of near-constant joblessness. Those around him, like Ford Prefect, have jobs (updating entries into the Guide), but Arthur's more or less a tagalong, rather than an employee. At one point near the beginning of Mostly Harmless, Arthur is running his own business, a sandwich shop, on an alien world. But that falls by the wayside in the usual Hitchhiker's kinda way. It seems Arthur Dent is proof that you need a towel to travel the length and breadth of the galaxy, but not a job.
3) Dave Lister (Red Dwarf) - At 3 million + years without a job, Lister makes it into the coveted top 3 for being the individual who's spent the most time, a truly staggering amount of time, unemployed (even if he was in stasis for most of that period). While you can certainly say that all of the Boys from the 'Dwarf are unemployed, Lister gets the nod for being out of work the longest (you might say only minutes or seconds longer than Rimmer, but remember that's when Rimmer died, and so, not being activated as a hologram until Lister was decanted, he wasn't around in any form to be unemployed), and most importantly for being unemployed by choice. He planned to be out of work. Remember that he brought Frankenstein the cat aboard specifically to get fired and put into stasis for violating quaranteen regulations. That's more than being okay with being jobless, it's wanting to be that way. Repairs to the ship? That's just keeping his home intact, which is vital to his survival; it's not a job. All of the misadventures that happen to him on the way home? Again, merely survival. I'm reminded of an episode where a hologram from another ship asks something to the effect of "So all you guys do is fly around the universe eating curries, getting drunk and salvaging the occasional wrecked ship?" to which the boys reply "Yeah." That tells you pretty clearly, they're just killing time, filling their days. Lister is among the kings of the unemployed in the SF genre.
2) The Doctor (Doctor Who) - Whatever he did on Gallifrey in the deeps of time before he stole the TARDIS and headed out across the universe in search of fun, The Doctor, is unemployed. Sure, he gets into a lot of adventures, some of them on a grand scale, fighting ancient foes and helping people out, but that isn't a job. He isn't paid for any these deeds. It's good samaritanism. Travelling around on a whim volunteering to help people doesn't even make him self-employed, it makes him The Littlest Hobo. You might say that The Doctor deserves to get paid for this, that perhaps the Shadow Proclamation or some other pan-galactic power should recognize his efforts and bestow an official title, list of qualifications, job description, pay scale, complaints process and annual performance review upon him, but they haven't really (or at least not in any meaningful, paying way) and so he remains a volunteer rather than an employee or contractor. Poor guy even has to live out of his vehicle. It would probably be accurate to say he was employed during the last Time War against the Daleks, conscription or enlistment in Gallifrey's armed forces certainly counting as employment. But since the end of the war he's been out of work. Could he settle down and find a job somewhere? Probably. But it's his steadfast determination not to, and everything that he's accomplished with his ample spare time, that puts him this high on the list.
1) Frodo Baggins (The Lord of the Rings) - This halfling is the ultimate example of the trust fund kid who made good. Adopted by Bilbo as a young orphan, Frodo drifted easily into his uncle's happily unemployed lifestyle. After all, with all of the elder Baggins' wealth, he didn't need to work. Taking it easy with his buddies down at the Green Dragon, smoking his pipeweed of an evening, and eating well seemed to fill his days well enough until all of that hassle with the One Ring. And as far as the destruction of the Ring goes, that certainly wasn't work. It was fall cleaning. Sure, he may have received gifts of gratitude from all of the various lords of the realms for destroying a singularly powerful tool of evil, but he was basically getting rid of old clutter that was taking up room around the house (and in the back of his mind). Similar to the pattern set by Bilbo, after the War of the Ring Frodo went back to a life of leisure as a country gentleman. Frodo ranks so much higher than Bilbo, and in fact leads this list, because he saved the world while being unemployed, and unlike The Doctor, did it without the benefit of a whole TARDIS-full of high-tech resources or centuries of experience. Frodo may have received a couple of magic gifts along the way, but ultimately he had to trudge through endless leagues of bad country, surrounded by hostile forces, with no idea of what lay ahead or how he was going to get through it. Not bad for a kid who never had a job.
And so I give to you the Top 5 Unemployed SF Characters:
5) Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit & The Lord of the Rings) - This legendary halfling starts our list off for being a notorious gentleman layabout. Sure, you can argue that for the bulk of The Hobbit he's employed, albeit against his will, on a contract basis as a thief for a band of dwarves who need help settling a grudge against a dragon. But the fact is that he begins the story jobless, and happily so, and once the whole business with Smaug and the Battle of the Five Armies is wrapped up, he wastes no time going back to his easygoing lifestyle that consists of eating well and avoiding most of his relations. In fact, when Frodo comes of age, Bilbo leaves home and becomes the classic epitome of the unemployed bachelor, sleeping on his friend's couch in Rivendel and in the end bumming a ride (to Valinor) when it suits him. You might argue that during his later years in the Shire and in Elrond's house Bilbo has taken up the profession of writer or historian, but because he isn't paid for this, I'd say that this activity constitutes a hobby more than a job (granted, many would point out that people who claim to write professionally often don't get paid, or get paid so little as to be considered not in a paying job and yet we say they're employed none-the-less, and I'd have a hard time arguing with this) and so would still classify him as a lord of leisure, or, at least an esquire of leisure.
4) Arthur Dent (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) - Arthur Dent is an interesting cat. Or, the friend of an interesting life form descended from cats, anyway. When the Hitchhiker's Guide opens, Arthur's in his jammies as work crews show up to tear down his house. That tells us that it's probably a weekday, because city crews are more likely to be on the job on a weekday than a weekend, and yet, amidst all of the hubbub, not once does Arthur voice any concern about all of this potentially making him late for work, something that makes me wonder if our hero is currently "between projects". All of this soon becomes irrelevant anyway, as the Earth is destroyed. From that point on, Arthur schleps from one corner of the galaxy to another in a state of near-constant joblessness. Those around him, like Ford Prefect, have jobs (updating entries into the Guide), but Arthur's more or less a tagalong, rather than an employee. At one point near the beginning of Mostly Harmless, Arthur is running his own business, a sandwich shop, on an alien world. But that falls by the wayside in the usual Hitchhiker's kinda way. It seems Arthur Dent is proof that you need a towel to travel the length and breadth of the galaxy, but not a job.
3) Dave Lister (Red Dwarf) - At 3 million + years without a job, Lister makes it into the coveted top 3 for being the individual who's spent the most time, a truly staggering amount of time, unemployed (even if he was in stasis for most of that period). While you can certainly say that all of the Boys from the 'Dwarf are unemployed, Lister gets the nod for being out of work the longest (you might say only minutes or seconds longer than Rimmer, but remember that's when Rimmer died, and so, not being activated as a hologram until Lister was decanted, he wasn't around in any form to be unemployed), and most importantly for being unemployed by choice. He planned to be out of work. Remember that he brought Frankenstein the cat aboard specifically to get fired and put into stasis for violating quaranteen regulations. That's more than being okay with being jobless, it's wanting to be that way. Repairs to the ship? That's just keeping his home intact, which is vital to his survival; it's not a job. All of the misadventures that happen to him on the way home? Again, merely survival. I'm reminded of an episode where a hologram from another ship asks something to the effect of "So all you guys do is fly around the universe eating curries, getting drunk and salvaging the occasional wrecked ship?" to which the boys reply "Yeah." That tells you pretty clearly, they're just killing time, filling their days. Lister is among the kings of the unemployed in the SF genre.
2) The Doctor (Doctor Who) - Whatever he did on Gallifrey in the deeps of time before he stole the TARDIS and headed out across the universe in search of fun, The Doctor, is unemployed. Sure, he gets into a lot of adventures, some of them on a grand scale, fighting ancient foes and helping people out, but that isn't a job. He isn't paid for any these deeds. It's good samaritanism. Travelling around on a whim volunteering to help people doesn't even make him self-employed, it makes him The Littlest Hobo. You might say that The Doctor deserves to get paid for this, that perhaps the Shadow Proclamation or some other pan-galactic power should recognize his efforts and bestow an official title, list of qualifications, job description, pay scale, complaints process and annual performance review upon him, but they haven't really (or at least not in any meaningful, paying way) and so he remains a volunteer rather than an employee or contractor. Poor guy even has to live out of his vehicle. It would probably be accurate to say he was employed during the last Time War against the Daleks, conscription or enlistment in Gallifrey's armed forces certainly counting as employment. But since the end of the war he's been out of work. Could he settle down and find a job somewhere? Probably. But it's his steadfast determination not to, and everything that he's accomplished with his ample spare time, that puts him this high on the list.
1) Frodo Baggins (The Lord of the Rings) - This halfling is the ultimate example of the trust fund kid who made good. Adopted by Bilbo as a young orphan, Frodo drifted easily into his uncle's happily unemployed lifestyle. After all, with all of the elder Baggins' wealth, he didn't need to work. Taking it easy with his buddies down at the Green Dragon, smoking his pipeweed of an evening, and eating well seemed to fill his days well enough until all of that hassle with the One Ring. And as far as the destruction of the Ring goes, that certainly wasn't work. It was fall cleaning. Sure, he may have received gifts of gratitude from all of the various lords of the realms for destroying a singularly powerful tool of evil, but he was basically getting rid of old clutter that was taking up room around the house (and in the back of his mind). Similar to the pattern set by Bilbo, after the War of the Ring Frodo went back to a life of leisure as a country gentleman. Frodo ranks so much higher than Bilbo, and in fact leads this list, because he saved the world while being unemployed, and unlike The Doctor, did it without the benefit of a whole TARDIS-full of high-tech resources or centuries of experience. Frodo may have received a couple of magic gifts along the way, but ultimately he had to trudge through endless leagues of bad country, surrounded by hostile forces, with no idea of what lay ahead or how he was going to get through it. Not bad for a kid who never had a job.
Return of the List!
For nearly a year, I've been listless. At least as far as this site is concerned.
I left off the weakly list when I headed to Montreal for Worldcon last August. And that made sense at the time. I was too busy blogging the Anticipation experience and keeping weird hours, and then indulging in a short vacation afterwards, to put any thought into arbitrarily ranking diverse science fiction and fantasy elements to fit whatever topic I pulled out of my hat during those weeks.
But why didn't I resume when I got home? I can't really say. It wasn't laziness (or, no more so than usual, anyway) because I didn't stop posting altogether. It wasn't that I lost my taste for lists, because I still enjoy clicking over to the odd list on other sites. It wasn't that I ran out of ideas either. I just didn't pick it up again.
Well, that's changed. I may not have hit the anniversary of the lack of list, but it's time to get back in the swing of things.
The Weakly List is back.
Stay tuned for pointless ranking of all things SF in the weeks ahead.
I left off the weakly list when I headed to Montreal for Worldcon last August. And that made sense at the time. I was too busy blogging the Anticipation experience and keeping weird hours, and then indulging in a short vacation afterwards, to put any thought into arbitrarily ranking diverse science fiction and fantasy elements to fit whatever topic I pulled out of my hat during those weeks.
But why didn't I resume when I got home? I can't really say. It wasn't laziness (or, no more so than usual, anyway) because I didn't stop posting altogether. It wasn't that I lost my taste for lists, because I still enjoy clicking over to the odd list on other sites. It wasn't that I ran out of ideas either. I just didn't pick it up again.
Well, that's changed. I may not have hit the anniversary of the lack of list, but it's time to get back in the swing of things.
The Weakly List is back.
Stay tuned for pointless ranking of all things SF in the weeks ahead.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Happy Canada Day
Happy Canada Day, everyone!
In addition to the usual Canada Day activities (taking in the
Steveston Salmon Festival early thus afternoon), we indulged in a
little SF, watching a rebroadcast of X-Men 2 on TV, which is entirely
appropriate to the holiday because Logan is a Canuck. We also
discussed the Wonder Woman costume change with friends over dinner,
which has nothing to do with Canada Day, but Wonder Woman's state of
dress or undress is a worthy topic at any time.
Enjoy the extra-long weekend!
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Propaganda or Geekery?
You've gotta have priorities in life.
You've gotta know who your people are.
You've gotta know who your people are.
Today, I was offered tickets at the office to a big environmental
rally my employer is backing.
But my wife called up and said she'd been given free tickets to
tonight's sold-out Star Wars in Concert performance (narrated in
person by Anthony Daniels and including movie props & costumes on
display) at GM Place. And these are good seats. Very, very good seats
- row 7: closer to the orchestra than Han was to Greedo when Han shot
first.
Now, I'm all for recycling, taking the stairs instead of the elevator,
and taking care of the plants around the house, but this enviro
presentation/discussion/show isn't really my scene. It seems to me
like this sermon is going to be preaching to the converted - plenty of
folks who take sustainability more intensely than I do.
Now, the Star Wars musical performance on the other hand... Tickets
that were a gift to us from a friend to watch a really well put-
together show and listen to a great set of often moving scores to some
of my favourite movies (and how often do you get to see Daniels'
antics in front of you on stage?). Being among thousands of fellow
fans (some sporting costumes) from all walks of life enjoying
themselves. Spending a nice evening with my wife.
No contest really.
Save the Earth if you want to, but tonight, I'll look to the stars.
If that's wrong, if that's the Dark Side, then call me...
Darth Tubby!
('cause I can't think of a cool Sith handle)
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, June 21, 2010
Good luck, Jill!
Best wishes to Jill over at White Dwarf Books who's going in for hip surgery today. I'll miss chatting with her when I go in for my usual book fix. Hopefully she'll be back on her feet before too long.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
There Goes My Wannabe Career as a Superhero
Denied!
I'm ashamed to say I took the "Are you a hero - or just a henchman?" quiz on the LA Times site today (courtesy of a link on SF Signal) and washed out. Only scoring 50% on this geek trivia challenge, I was ranked as a "Mere Mortal".
That hurts. That really hurts.
I mean, I never had any allusions... I always knew I'd never stack up to the likes of Superman or Ghost Rider, but I thought that among the ranks of the metahumans I'd at least score something around the level of Captain Chaos (because Captain Chaos is awesome in his own right).
But "Mere Mortal"? There's no rising above that. You can study the superhero instructional guide that the Muppets got their hands on all you want, but you're never gonna cut it. Hell, as a mere mortal, you won't even get admittance to the bottom of the class at Hero High, and that's definitely a low water mark. As a "mere" mortal, you probably don't have much of a chance of a career as a non-powered masked vigilante like Batman - all the cool gadgets in the world won't help you rise above the depths of your mereness.
I guess that leaves me with just one option: villainy. The door's wide open there for mere mortals. I could take a stab at that. I have the office chair, I have a cat to stroke contemplatively, and I have a diabolical plan - well, okay, I don't have a diabolical plan yet, but I'm pretty sure I can come up with something. I'll just have to watch a few hours of Pinky and the Brain reruns for inspiration.
Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
I'm ashamed to say I took the "Are you a hero - or just a henchman?" quiz on the LA Times site today (courtesy of a link on SF Signal) and washed out. Only scoring 50% on this geek trivia challenge, I was ranked as a "Mere Mortal".
That hurts. That really hurts.
I mean, I never had any allusions... I always knew I'd never stack up to the likes of Superman or Ghost Rider, but I thought that among the ranks of the metahumans I'd at least score something around the level of Captain Chaos (because Captain Chaos is awesome in his own right).
But "Mere Mortal"? There's no rising above that. You can study the superhero instructional guide that the Muppets got their hands on all you want, but you're never gonna cut it. Hell, as a mere mortal, you won't even get admittance to the bottom of the class at Hero High, and that's definitely a low water mark. As a "mere" mortal, you probably don't have much of a chance of a career as a non-powered masked vigilante like Batman - all the cool gadgets in the world won't help you rise above the depths of your mereness.
I guess that leaves me with just one option: villainy. The door's wide open there for mere mortals. I could take a stab at that. I have the office chair, I have a cat to stroke contemplatively, and I have a diabolical plan - well, okay, I don't have a diabolical plan yet, but I'm pretty sure I can come up with something. I'll just have to watch a few hours of Pinky and the Brain reruns for inspiration.
Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
How to be a Muppet Super Hero
For some reason today I've had a hankering to watch some of my favourite old Muppet Show sketches, and while poking around on YouTube I stumbled on one that was always near the top of my list: the episode where Fozzy, Scooter and the gang get their hands on an instructional book for would-be superheroes.
Over the course of the show, various costume-clad Muppets try everything from swinging on ropes to seeing through doors to jumping off ladders in the belief that they can fly. Just hilarious when I was a kid and still pretty funny now.
The "mastering abilities" sequences in Spiderman and Iron Man owe a lot to this episode of the Muppets.
The clip I've linked to above is a montage put together for a "remember when" sequence in a later episode, but the original scenes were from Linda Carter's turn hosting the show, I think. (which is another reason to seek out the original episode, 'cause hey, who doesn't like looking at Linda Carter?)
Over the course of the show, various costume-clad Muppets try everything from swinging on ropes to seeing through doors to jumping off ladders in the belief that they can fly. Just hilarious when I was a kid and still pretty funny now.
The "mastering abilities" sequences in Spiderman and Iron Man owe a lot to this episode of the Muppets.
The clip I've linked to above is a montage put together for a "remember when" sequence in a later episode, but the original scenes were from Linda Carter's turn hosting the show, I think. (which is another reason to seek out the original episode, 'cause hey, who doesn't like looking at Linda Carter?)
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
If You Can't Use SF Terms Correctly, Don't Use Them at All
Buzzwords bug me. In my job as a communications specialist, I do my best to discourage and avoid them whenever possible.
Even worse is when a word, generally something that has formerly been obscure, is flung into the public spotlight, seized by marketers, business types, coolhunters, and yeah, sometimes well-intentioned readers who misinterpret the word or phrase, and is then used incorrectly, polluting its meaning among the minds of the public.
Worst of all is when a term from speculative fiction is abused in this fashion.
"Tween" has been a victim of this trend. It started shortly after Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies catapulted Tolkien's masterpiece back into mainstream consciousness and someone, somewhere seized on this little piece of hobbit vocabulary.
And I hate it.
Which is not to say that I hate the word tween in and of itself. What bugs me is how it has been so massively misapplied and how widely it's used.
You can't turn on the TV or go into a mall these days with out banging into some piece of marketing or throwaway pop culture commentary referring to tweens. Problem is, those who are employing the word are referring to children, usually between the ages of 10 and 14, which is exactly not what Tolkien was referring to when he invented the word.
Anyone who actually paid attention to what Tolkien wrote (and I'm not talking about the hyper obsessive types who can tell you exactly how many days' walk it is from Beorn's Hall to Dale) knows that tween is a term hobbits use for a halfling in his or her 20's. It's a time that's seen by hobbits as a second part of adolescence, probably due to the fact that hobbits tend to live longer than the average human.
In the real world, because medical science, lifestyle and diet have extended the modern lifespan usually into the 80's, and because these days many people in the developed world who are in their 20's are in an extended phase of adolescence (at least compared to previous generations, since they tend to be still in the process of getting an education, without major financial commitments like homes of their own, without permanent relationships or children, and often without careers), the term tween quite accurately applies, and let's face it, probably should be used.
10-14-year-olds, however, do not fit the definition of Tolkien's invented word. Rather, the term that's been used for this group up until very recently should be brought back: pre-teen.
Sadly, I doubt mainstream marketers and opinion pushers will come to their senses any time soon. The misuse of tween is something I'll have to do my best to ignore for the time being.
So what other SF words or phrases do you think have been misused by mainstream pop culture?
Even worse is when a word, generally something that has formerly been obscure, is flung into the public spotlight, seized by marketers, business types, coolhunters, and yeah, sometimes well-intentioned readers who misinterpret the word or phrase, and is then used incorrectly, polluting its meaning among the minds of the public.
Worst of all is when a term from speculative fiction is abused in this fashion.
"Tween" has been a victim of this trend. It started shortly after Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings movies catapulted Tolkien's masterpiece back into mainstream consciousness and someone, somewhere seized on this little piece of hobbit vocabulary.
And I hate it.
Which is not to say that I hate the word tween in and of itself. What bugs me is how it has been so massively misapplied and how widely it's used.
You can't turn on the TV or go into a mall these days with out banging into some piece of marketing or throwaway pop culture commentary referring to tweens. Problem is, those who are employing the word are referring to children, usually between the ages of 10 and 14, which is exactly not what Tolkien was referring to when he invented the word.
Anyone who actually paid attention to what Tolkien wrote (and I'm not talking about the hyper obsessive types who can tell you exactly how many days' walk it is from Beorn's Hall to Dale) knows that tween is a term hobbits use for a halfling in his or her 20's. It's a time that's seen by hobbits as a second part of adolescence, probably due to the fact that hobbits tend to live longer than the average human.
In the real world, because medical science, lifestyle and diet have extended the modern lifespan usually into the 80's, and because these days many people in the developed world who are in their 20's are in an extended phase of adolescence (at least compared to previous generations, since they tend to be still in the process of getting an education, without major financial commitments like homes of their own, without permanent relationships or children, and often without careers), the term tween quite accurately applies, and let's face it, probably should be used.
10-14-year-olds, however, do not fit the definition of Tolkien's invented word. Rather, the term that's been used for this group up until very recently should be brought back: pre-teen.
Sadly, I doubt mainstream marketers and opinion pushers will come to their senses any time soon. The misuse of tween is something I'll have to do my best to ignore for the time being.
So what other SF words or phrases do you think have been misused by mainstream pop culture?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Happy birthday Pacman
It's hard to believe it, but Pacman is 30 years old today. All in all, he's not doing too bad for a guy who's basically just a big giant head who never stops snacking even when he's being chased by the undead.
Admittedly though, he was more than that... Pacman was a marketing atomic bomb that exploded into pop culture near the end of the Cold War. First he chomped his way to the top of the arcades, and then spawned numerous spin-off videogames (as I've mentioned on previous occasions, Pacman may have come first, but Ms Pacman is my first videogame love). You couldn't turn around without running into a Pacman (or some other member of his clan) stand-up arcade game, table-top arcade game, handy portable mini arcade replica consol, or Atari cartridge.
Then the golden boy had to sink his teeth (or whatever he used to eat those little white pellets) into the Saturday morning cartoon scene. Was the Pacman cartoon stupid? Yes, it was, but as a kid I watched it... and I'll bet you did too, fanboy!
And speaking of appetites, Pacman cereal followed pretty soon after. Mmmmm... dehydrated marshmellows in faded pastel colours shaped like Pacman and the ghostmonsters! The deliciousness of a weekend morning meal with no nutritional value whatsoever! Bolstered of course by those crunchy little yellow balls (hey! I know what you're thinking! that's enough of that! save that kind of dirtiness for your interpretation of the London 2012 mascots!) that were already stale when you opened the box and went soggy in 2 seconds flat when immersed in milk, and probably, despite their resemblance to cornpops, probably had no nutritional value either. My brother and I used to love this stuff. For a couple of years, Pacman our cereal of choice when the family hit the road for our summer trip.
Whether you played him, watched him or ate him (that doesn't sound gross, does it?), if you were around in the early 80's, Pacman was a fact of life.
Happy birthday, Pacman!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Mascot Madness
London has unveiled its official mascots for the 2012 Olympics, and it looks like for the second Games in a row, SF has had a hefty amount of influence on the designers.
My first impression was that they look like the one-eyed bastard children of Gumby and one of the repair droids from the pod race scene in The Phantom Menace (minus the rice-picker hats, that is). Now I'm starting to wonder (especially with the opening sequence in the backstory video on the Games' site) if they're more along the lines of rejects from Skynet's T1000 factory. Or maybe ambulatory detached eystalks from the trash compactor monster in Star Wars.
And those are just the clean comparisons. Let's not even get into the resemblance these things have to Mr/Ms Garrison's runaway penis from Southpark.
Don't get me wrong, in a way, it's cool the London designers have attempted to come up with futuristic mascots, and I appreciate the somewhat steampunkish made-in-the-garage-by-a-mechanic feel of the characters' origin. But with all of England's long history and layered culture, couldn't the Games' organizers have drawn inspiration from something other than Kryten's self-designed ambulatory unit from Red Dwarf?
Of course, this lineup has made its debut just a couple of months after the Vancouver Olympics, which had its own mediocre mascots. Quachi, Sumi, Miga and Mukmuk were allegedly inspired by First Nations culture, but all you had to do was look at them and see they weren't remotely similar to any aboriginal art on display in BC. No, these critters looked more like really amateurish, failed attempts at anime sketches. You just know that if Pikachu and the rest of the Pokemon gang were picking players for a dodgeball game, no-one would want the Vancouver mascots on their team.
I guess that puts the onus on Sochi 2014, and the hosts of the 2016 Games, to break the pattern and create mascots that - especially if they're SFnal in nature - are actually cool.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Happy Star Wars Day
It's been a rough couple of days at work, but I got a nice pick-me-up
today when I checked my Facebook and noticed a message from a friend:
"May the 4th be with you!"
today when I checked my Facebook and noticed a message from a friend:
"May the 4th be with you!"
Yeah, I know that gag is old and kind of lame, but I'd completely
forgotten about it, and it was just what I needed. Nothing like a
little geek humour when you're down.
So happy Star Wars Day, everyone!
Sent from my iPhone
Saturday, April 17, 2010
His Action Figures Are Bigger than Yours
Forget your vintage 12-inch Luke Skywalker action figure from the late 70's, the other day while walking through the Tai Koo Shing mall in Hong Kong I came across a collection of really huge 'figs.Apparently, Hong Kong film star Louis Koo is an SF fanboy. And not only does he not care if anyone knows, he's proud of it and quite willing to share his passion. Koo has had life-sized (in some cases slightly larger than life-sized) reproductions of his favourite SF characters created for his private collection, and he's loaned-out some of these mega 'figs to the mall to display for the viewing pleasure of his fellow geeks and other members of the public.
Many of the action figures are Star Wars-related: there are several Yodas, Darth Vader and Darth Maul loom in the display cases, R2 and Threepio are on the scene, and there are others. Koo has also comissioned a number of superheroes, including a couple of Spiderman 'figs, Batman, and Ironman. And let's not forget the variety of bug heads from the installments of the Alien franchise, along with a bust of the Predator and a few of that hunter's masks. Then there were the Lord of the Rings prop reproductions. In addition to the full-sized 'figs under glass, there were also a pair of huge display cases filled with ship replicas (my favourites were the Star Destroyer and the Rebel blockade runner, although it was pretty awesome that one of his Millenium Falcon models included an autograph from Harrison Ford) and closer to normal-sized action figures and statues. And the list goes on.
It was great to see the public turnout too. Obviously, many who stopped to look were just curious passers-by going about their shopping. But there were a fair number of people who were clearly fanboys & fangirls - not because they looked like any hackneyed nerd stereotypes, but because they were the ones taking photos, they were the ones chatting enthusiastically with each other about the displays, and they had the same enthusiastic light in their eyes that I did as we took it all in. We may not have been speaking the same language, but all of us geeks were saying the same thing: this is so cool.Thursday, April 15, 2010
No Love from The Mouse
You'd think that with Disney investing big money in this winter's Tron Legacy that they'd be starting to work on building a presence for the film among the broad, captive audiences at its theme parks - a way to balance the teasing they've done with the highly-focussed geek market. You'd think part of this would be highlighting the past success of the original film, Tron, even if only with some prime positioning of the 25th anniversary DVD on the racks in their gift shops. You'd be wrong.
As we continue our visit to Hong Kong, two days ago my wife dragged me out to the city's Disney theme park (she's a slave to The Mouse and it doesn't matter how many people have told her this version of the franchise isn't worth while, she was determined to go and pay homage). I wasn't expecting much as we ambled into Tomorrowland. After all, this park is only about a quarter, maybe a third of the size of the California operation, never mind only being a portion of a suburb of the Florida monstrosity. But I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, with Hong Kong being a high-tech Mecca, and with the new film just around the corner, there'd be something of Tron hidden around some corner or other.
Nope.
The closest I came to any Tron presence in the joint was when we were coming out of the Buzz Lightyear's Star Command ride into the attendant gift shop and the muzak track playing in the background switched at one point to a soft remix of the Tron theme. Then it was onto something else.
But forget about the original's DVD being on the shelves with the other movies. Don't bother considering advanced merchandizing for the new film. And don't even think about a promo poster or two.
Now, you might argue that Disney's theme parks, and especially the small Hong Kong operation, are geared towards kids and that the new sequel isn't something The Mouse would market to them. Think again. Remember when the original film came out in '82? Even as they were running promos in theatres for the adults, Disney was marketing the hell outta that flick to kids. I remember the plastic lightcycle toys they were giving away in boxes of Shreddies. Don't think they won't pull a similar stunt again even as they push the new movie to adults through every channel at their disposal.
I've come to the conclusion that Disney is like a fairweather friend. It dusts off its older properties like Tron when it thinks there's some cool and some cash to be gained, but as soon as the moment in the spotlight has passed, it forgets about them. Kinda like the way the MCP treated the Tower Guardians. And you know what the MCP eventually tried to do to them.
As we continue our visit to Hong Kong, two days ago my wife dragged me out to the city's Disney theme park (she's a slave to The Mouse and it doesn't matter how many people have told her this version of the franchise isn't worth while, she was determined to go and pay homage). I wasn't expecting much as we ambled into Tomorrowland. After all, this park is only about a quarter, maybe a third of the size of the California operation, never mind only being a portion of a suburb of the Florida monstrosity. But I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, with Hong Kong being a high-tech Mecca, and with the new film just around the corner, there'd be something of Tron hidden around some corner or other.
Nope.
The closest I came to any Tron presence in the joint was when we were coming out of the Buzz Lightyear's Star Command ride into the attendant gift shop and the muzak track playing in the background switched at one point to a soft remix of the Tron theme. Then it was onto something else.
But forget about the original's DVD being on the shelves with the other movies. Don't bother considering advanced merchandizing for the new film. And don't even think about a promo poster or two.
Now, you might argue that Disney's theme parks, and especially the small Hong Kong operation, are geared towards kids and that the new sequel isn't something The Mouse would market to them. Think again. Remember when the original film came out in '82? Even as they were running promos in theatres for the adults, Disney was marketing the hell outta that flick to kids. I remember the plastic lightcycle toys they were giving away in boxes of Shreddies. Don't think they won't pull a similar stunt again even as they push the new movie to adults through every channel at their disposal.
I've come to the conclusion that Disney is like a fairweather friend. It dusts off its older properties like Tron when it thinks there's some cool and some cash to be gained, but as soon as the moment in the spotlight has passed, it forgets about them. Kinda like the way the MCP treated the Tower Guardians. And you know what the MCP eventually tried to do to them.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Calling All Fans of Chinese SF - Need Some Help
Since I'm in Hong Kong, I'm wondering if anyone out there who's a fan of Chinese SF can refer me to a bookstore in the area that sells Chinese SF that's been translated into English.
My recent travels around Asia have given me a lot of time to read on airplanes, and as a result I've gone through Dan Simmons' Black Hills fairly quickly, and in short order I'll be done with Douglas Coupland's Generation A.
I was in Kowloon today and went into the Page1 bookstore in the mall near the Star Ferry terminal looking for more to read. They had the usual suspects from the American and British SF scenes (and even a copy of Rob Sawyer's FlashForward to represent the contributions of us Canucks), and I ended up picking up a copy of Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things.
But I was really disappointed to see that the store had no works by Chinese SF authors that had been translated into English. I'd remembered a very interesting discussion of the genre around the world a few months ago on SF Signal, and I went into the store hoping that since Hong Kong has traditionally been the gateway between China and the West that there would be translated versions of local SF available. No luck. At least not at that store. Which is unfortunate because I was hoping to be able to pick up an anthology or a critically-acclaimed novel that would give me a sense of what the Chinese and Hong Kong SF scenes are like.
So we come to my request:
I'm wondering if any of you out there in the blogosphere who are SF fans who live in Hong Kong or China, or who live elsewhere but have travelled to Hong Kong, can recommend a good bookstore here on the island that sells Chinese SF that's been translated into English. Also, are there any particular authors that I should try?
Any suggestions would be much appreciated.
My recent travels around Asia have given me a lot of time to read on airplanes, and as a result I've gone through Dan Simmons' Black Hills fairly quickly, and in short order I'll be done with Douglas Coupland's Generation A.
I was in Kowloon today and went into the Page1 bookstore in the mall near the Star Ferry terminal looking for more to read. They had the usual suspects from the American and British SF scenes (and even a copy of Rob Sawyer's FlashForward to represent the contributions of us Canucks), and I ended up picking up a copy of Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things.
But I was really disappointed to see that the store had no works by Chinese SF authors that had been translated into English. I'd remembered a very interesting discussion of the genre around the world a few months ago on SF Signal, and I went into the store hoping that since Hong Kong has traditionally been the gateway between China and the West that there would be translated versions of local SF available. No luck. At least not at that store. Which is unfortunate because I was hoping to be able to pick up an anthology or a critically-acclaimed novel that would give me a sense of what the Chinese and Hong Kong SF scenes are like.
So we come to my request:
I'm wondering if any of you out there in the blogosphere who are SF fans who live in Hong Kong or China, or who live elsewhere but have travelled to Hong Kong, can recommend a good bookstore here on the island that sells Chinese SF that's been translated into English. Also, are there any particular authors that I should try?
Any suggestions would be much appreciated.
Back in Blade Runner Land
After several days touring Beijing, with a short hop down to Bali to attend a wedding, I'm back in Hong Kong for the rest of my vacation.
Beijing was an experience that frequently felt SF-ish. In my last post, I mentioned the motorized rickshaw/Star Wars asteroid field navigation incident. The Forbidden City put me in mind of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hero and all of the other Chinese kung-fu fantasy flicks of recent years. And of course, huffing and puffing along the undulations of the Great Wall, it was hard not to think of all the fantasy stories that have included Asian-inspired cultures in their worldbuilding, including variations on this megaproject. Then there were the walks through the close, dark, occasionally neon-illuminated twists and turns of the hutong neighbourhoods at night, where I was reminded of the opening of Gremlins (although I'm not sure but I think that was supposed to be Shanghai, rather than Beijing). And on our last night there, driving back to the hotel we passed a couple of huge skyscapers, one with every corner and edge highlighted in red neon, another in blue, that made me think of buildings in Tron.
In Bali, there was nothing that made me think of SF. It was just too damn hot and muggy and I couldn't wait for it to be over.
Then there's Hong Kong. On a night like tonight, looking out the window of my hotel room in Causeway Bay past Victoria Park into the urban canyons, I can see how the city inspired Ridley Scott in his creation of the set of Blade Runner (I seem to recall him mentioning this in an interview once or on the commentary track of the DVD). The office and apartment towers rear up into the obscuring darkness of the clouds. They squish close together like old ladies hunting for a bargain in a department store on boxing day. And crowded at their feet are countless tiny, neon-lit restaurants and shops selling, well, everthing, as traffic oozes along the road and legions of pedestrians bustle by in the greasy rain. Blade Runner may have been set in LA of 2019, but Hong Kong is the real deal, here and now. All it needs is hover cars weaving through the maze of concrete & steel titans with Edward James Olmos dragging Harrison Ford away from his noodles... which is seriously not cool - you never drag a man away from his noodles. At least Olmos had the decency to let Ford get take-out. Mmmmm... take out...
Beijing was an experience that frequently felt SF-ish. In my last post, I mentioned the motorized rickshaw/Star Wars asteroid field navigation incident. The Forbidden City put me in mind of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hero and all of the other Chinese kung-fu fantasy flicks of recent years. And of course, huffing and puffing along the undulations of the Great Wall, it was hard not to think of all the fantasy stories that have included Asian-inspired cultures in their worldbuilding, including variations on this megaproject. Then there were the walks through the close, dark, occasionally neon-illuminated twists and turns of the hutong neighbourhoods at night, where I was reminded of the opening of Gremlins (although I'm not sure but I think that was supposed to be Shanghai, rather than Beijing). And on our last night there, driving back to the hotel we passed a couple of huge skyscapers, one with every corner and edge highlighted in red neon, another in blue, that made me think of buildings in Tron.
In Bali, there was nothing that made me think of SF. It was just too damn hot and muggy and I couldn't wait for it to be over.
Then there's Hong Kong. On a night like tonight, looking out the window of my hotel room in Causeway Bay past Victoria Park into the urban canyons, I can see how the city inspired Ridley Scott in his creation of the set of Blade Runner (I seem to recall him mentioning this in an interview once or on the commentary track of the DVD). The office and apartment towers rear up into the obscuring darkness of the clouds. They squish close together like old ladies hunting for a bargain in a department store on boxing day. And crowded at their feet are countless tiny, neon-lit restaurants and shops selling, well, everthing, as traffic oozes along the road and legions of pedestrians bustle by in the greasy rain. Blade Runner may have been set in LA of 2019, but Hong Kong is the real deal, here and now. All it needs is hover cars weaving through the maze of concrete & steel titans with Edward James Olmos dragging Harrison Ford away from his noodles... which is seriously not cool - you never drag a man away from his noodles. At least Olmos had the decency to let Ford get take-out. Mmmmm... take out...
Sunday, April 04, 2010
Never Tell Me the Odds
This afternoon I felt a little like I'd been dragged along with the Star Wars gang on Han Solo's mad dash through the asteroid field in The Empire Strikes Back.
Woke up this morning in Hong Kong. The sky was still right outta Neuromancer. Just brighter. Off to the airport for our second attempt to get on a flight to Beijing. The temperature was already 25 degrees by 6:30, with humidity around 90% - and that was inside the HK airport. Climbing the exterior boarding stairs to get on the plane, I looked out across the tarmac and caught the rumour of HK in the distance: mountains hiding behind mist and clouds and smog like postmodern myths. Skyscrapers peering around the corners of air pollution like stone giants playing hide & seek. Then into the air and off to Beijing.
We got into the hotel and phoned the tour guide - last night's flight fiasco had caused us to miss the first leg of the tour this morning. He said we'd missed the Forbidden City but said he could make arrangements for us to link up with the group at the zoo. Um. I'm sure the animals are nice and all, but you don't fly half way around the world to Beijing to not see the Forbidden City. We said we'd go there on our own this afternoon and catch up to the tour group later.
The Forbidden City is everything it's cracked up to be: mind-bogglingly huge yet exquisitely detailed. Even back alleys and servants' walkways are intricately carved and painted. It put me in mind of all of those Chinese kung-fu fantasy movies - Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or Hero or take your pick of any of dozens of others - except with about a bajillion tourists bumbling through.
But it was after a couple of hours when we had to call it quits and get back to the hotel that the Star Wars experience came into play. When you leave the Forbidden City, if you aren't with a tour group, you're in for quite the undertaking when it comes to finding transportation. Don't feel comfortable taking the bus system, then you're running the gauntlet of cabbies. Most of the ones that hang around don't actually know their way around town that well - if at all, and that includes a profound ignorance of where the major hotels are. There are some who are somewhat honest about this and will say they don't know where your lodgings are, then proceed to ignore you and look for another mark. Others will claim to know the way but do more guessing than navigating. And then there are the rare ones who actually have the map figured out. All of them will try to hose you on the price.
After several failed attempts to find someone who knew how to get to our hotel and who wasn't demanding an emperor's ransom for a flat fee for the trip, we finally found ourselves in one of Beijing's little suicide machines, er, motorized rickshaws: motorbikes configured as tricycles and outfitted with battered aluminum cabins. Luke's words from A New Hope came into my head as I piled in the passenger compartment after my wife: "What a piece of junk!" The driver was pretty proud of his ride though, and claimed he knew the way and could get us there quickly and for an acceptable price, but Han Solo he wasn't. Turns out he didn't have a clue about where to go (he had to stop and ask another rickshaw cabbie for directions) and when he eventually got us to the hotel, he tried to get more money out of us (and failed - we wouldn't budge on the fee). But the Empire flashback came hard after the New Hope memory did - when he first picked us up outside the Forbidden City, as soon as he hit the ignition it was the Falcon careening through the asteroid field. Bike lanes, car lanes, oncoming traffic lanes, all were fair game for this guy's top speed rush. I can't even begin to count the number of times he missed slamming into pedestrians, cyclists or other rickshaws by just centimetres, never mind the constant near-misses where we almost got crushed by buses like a beercan in the Death Star's trash compactor. The ride was fun (at times), frightening (always) and stank like low-quality diesel (I was coughing up the fumes for hours afterwards). I wouldn't go on one of those damn things again, but having done it once, I can say I've taken part in an authentic local experience.
Looking back on the rocket rickshaw trip though, I have a new-found sympathy for what Threepio had to put up with in 'Empire. All of his shouting and flapping away in the back of the cockpit, all of his attempts to reason with Han about choosing another course, it just doesn't seem so annoying anymore. Now, I kind of agree with him.
Saturday, April 03, 2010
A Little Trouble Getting into Big China
William Gibson was right: the sky over Hong Kong is the colour of a TV turned to a dead channel.
Half blind and held up in Hong Kong last night. Our Cathay flight from Vancouver to HK yesterday was delayed by more than an hour, and by the time we got into HK, we couldn't make our connecting flight to Beijing on China Air. Seems a 2-hour layover isn't enough buffer room when your initial flight is an hour overdue and the airline for the next flight closes its boarding gate 40 minutes before their plane is scheduled to leave. Lumbering down the enclosed overhead catwalk connecting the airport with the Regal Aiport Hotel where Cathay was putting us up, I stopped and peered out at the night sky. Gibson was full-on.
The hotel itself gave me another flashback to the first Superman movie: lots of huge, white wannabe-crystal-looking columns in the lobby atrium made it feel a lot like it was trying to be Krypton or the Fortress of Solitude. With the memory of the Olympic cauldron back home still fresh, I found myself again inflicting a bad Marlon Brando impression on my wife:
Be reasonable, Jor-El!
My friend [gotta work the jowels to really get Brando], I have never been otherwise.
This morning, I awoke with the song The Worst Day Since Yesterday running through my mind. (Heard that one when I stumbled past the opening sequence of an episode of Star Gate Universe sometime in the past week. Great song! Had to download it immediately.) Not the best omen for the trek today to Beijing, to link up late with our tour group and maybe salvage a little of today's lost sightseeing.
More from Captain Cyclops' Geeky Travel Log as it happens.
Half blind and held up in Hong Kong last night. Our Cathay flight from Vancouver to HK yesterday was delayed by more than an hour, and by the time we got into HK, we couldn't make our connecting flight to Beijing on China Air. Seems a 2-hour layover isn't enough buffer room when your initial flight is an hour overdue and the airline for the next flight closes its boarding gate 40 minutes before their plane is scheduled to leave. Lumbering down the enclosed overhead catwalk connecting the airport with the Regal Aiport Hotel where Cathay was putting us up, I stopped and peered out at the night sky. Gibson was full-on.
The hotel itself gave me another flashback to the first Superman movie: lots of huge, white wannabe-crystal-looking columns in the lobby atrium made it feel a lot like it was trying to be Krypton or the Fortress of Solitude. With the memory of the Olympic cauldron back home still fresh, I found myself again inflicting a bad Marlon Brando impression on my wife:
Be reasonable, Jor-El!
My friend [gotta work the jowels to really get Brando], I have never been otherwise.
This morning, I awoke with the song The Worst Day Since Yesterday running through my mind. (Heard that one when I stumbled past the opening sequence of an episode of Star Gate Universe sometime in the past week. Great song! Had to download it immediately.) Not the best omen for the trek today to Beijing, to link up late with our tour group and maybe salvage a little of today's lost sightseeing.
More from Captain Cyclops' Geeky Travel Log as it happens.
Friday, April 02, 2010
The Adventures of Captain Cyclops
I've been offline for a while because last week I had to go into the hospital for emergency eye surgery. Remember June/July 2008? Same thing, but this time it was the right eye's retina that became partially detached. Recovery is going fine, though vision is still a bit blurry in that eye and the eye itself looks unpleasantly like a maraschino cherry.
What's been really frustrating is that in a week off of work, because of the slow vision recovery, I haven't been able to read, nor have I been able to use the 'net.
Anyhow, no sooner has that been settled, than I'm not off on a 3 week trip to Asia.
Will be missing several episodes of Caprica, Flashforward and V, and will miss the debut of the 11th Doctor Who, but the fun of the trip will make it worth while. Will log on once in a while as I'm able to do the odd post.
Eye'll be seeing you!
What's been really frustrating is that in a week off of work, because of the slow vision recovery, I haven't been able to read, nor have I been able to use the 'net.
Anyhow, no sooner has that been settled, than I'm not off on a 3 week trip to Asia.
Will be missing several episodes of Caprica, Flashforward and V, and will miss the debut of the 11th Doctor Who, but the fun of the trip will make it worth while. Will log on once in a while as I'm able to do the odd post.
Eye'll be seeing you!
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