Oppressive Battlestar Galactica Is Solid Sci-Fi

I grew up watching Star Trek, both the original series and the Next Generation, and later Star Wars, so I consider myself a pretty solid science fiction fan, but I don't get the SciFi network, so there are a lot of science fiction shows out there that I've missed out on. One of those is Battlestar Galactica. I've seen the calendars in the kiosk where I work and have heard friends mention it, but I didn't really know anything about the series until my friend Libbie brought it over last night. I didn't even know that there had been a series in the seventies first. What we saw was definitely the later incarnation - specifically, the 2003 miniseries, written by Ronald Moore and Christopher James and directed by Michael Rymer, that launched the television show.

There's a song by Flight of the Conchords in which Bret and Jemaine, impersonating robots, sing a song set in "the distant future" in which "the humans are dead." Like most of their music, it's so goofy that you can't help but chortle, but in Battlestar Galactica robots really are out to annihilate humanity, and it's no laughing matter. The Cylons, once created to serve the residents of the 12 Colonies in a galaxy far, far away, long ago evolved and began posing a significant threat to humanity, but for the past 40 years they had been silent. As the miniseries begins, they have found a way to launch a sneak attack that will obliterate most of humanity within hours.

That's a pretty dark way to begin a series, and while there are elements of it reminding me of both Star Trek and Star Wars, the miniseries has a much more oppressive feel to it. Like Star Trek, it takes place primarily aboard a ship, and there's a clear command structure in place. The mission, by the end of it, is to discover a new world. But in this case, the voyage is not about the thrill of discovery; it's about survival. Like Star Wars, there's an epic battle afoot, with the fate of all life in the solar system under threat, and there are outer space firefights aplenty as the military's top pilots try to take down the Cylon vessels. But so hopelessly outnumbered are the humans, so bleak are their prospects, retreat seems like the only workable solution. It's all pretty depressing, and there are no benign bleeping droids or furry tree-dwellers to lighten up the mood a little, nor does the music stir the soul like John Williams' classic score.

There are several major players in this drama, and for much of the miniseries the characters are pretty fragmented. The titular ship is manned by Commander William Adama (Edward James Olmos), a rugged man of extensive experience who has made many difficult decisions in his career and is about to face quite a few more. Olmos' gravitas keeps us mindful of the deadliness of the unfolding situation; at the same time, there's a certain comfort in knowing that a man like this is in charge. Immediately under his command is Colonel Saul Tigh (Michael Hogan), a hot-headed, hard-line military man who has a tendency to rub people the wrong way, especially "Starbuck" (Katee Sackhoff), a flying ace with a surly attitude who keeps finding herself in the brig.

She has thinly veiled feelings for Adama's son Lee (Jamie Bamber), who leaves the ship early in the miniseries and ends up in command of the vessel carrying Secretary of Education Laura Roslin (Mary McDonnell), who, in the wake of the Cylons' devastating attack, becomes the highest-ranking government official, making her the president. Facilitating that thermonuclear genocide is Dr. Gaius Baltar (James Callis), a brilliant scientist who unwittingly gives the Cylons the access they need while carrying on a two-year-long romance with a seductive beauty he does not realize is a Cylon. Credited as Number Six (Tricia Helfer), she is oversexed and supremely creepy, and it's through her that we understand just how drastically the Cylons have adapted themselves to blend in.

There are plenty of other characters as well, all of them humans or Cylons; no bizarre-looking alien species here. But there's an awful lot of fancy flying, and the effects are pretty impressive. While I found the story hard to get into, it did a decent job of holding my attention for three hours, especially once I had a better idea of just what was going on. The acting was solid all around. I'd been told that the dialogue in the series was supposed to be amazing. I'm not sure if that applied to the miniseries as well, but it didn't make a very big impression on me, other than noting the frequent use of the word "frack," apparently a euphemism for another word beginning with "f"; otherwise, it doesn't skimp on profanity, especially the "a" word so overused in Hancock.

What I especially missed in the dialogue was humor; there were bits of it sprinkled in here and there, but very sparingly. LOST begins with a major disaster that kills hundreds of people, yet the pilot episode is still laugh-aloud funny in many places. Of course, we're talking the deaths of millions here, so it's hard to keep from feeling depressed as the miniseries progresses. The key is to focus on the survivors and not look back. I have a feeling that might get easier in the series itself, when the focus veers from hopeless battle to pursuit of the Promised Land, but the miniseries itself is awfully gloomy.

I can't say that I was swept away by Battlestar Galactica. I like my futuristic movies optimistic, and this... wasn't, or at least the horror of the annihilation was too fresh for it to feel optimistic. But I feel like the series could be, and I might be willing to give a couple of episodes a shot sometime. Obviously there is an emphasis on quality, and that's a good thing; with a little bit of levity, it could be a great thing.