He dusted off that treatment, shot it with what People magazine termed "Lorne Greene and a sexy young cast," -- there's publicity one can't buy -- and hired Star Wars vet John Dykstra to supervise the fx. Its 3-hour premiere was a legitimate tv event, and the series was solidly in the top-20 during its only season in 1978.
The only problem was that for the enormous budget (strange to think that running the same combat footage week after week still rendered the series prohibitively expensive) ABC felt it should be a top-10 series. At worst. The series was canceled, castigated by lazy tv columnists as a "flop," or, as onetime Golden Turkey Awards coauthor Michael Medved once wrote, "A resounding dud."
As drama, Galactica is a creature of its 1978 8pm Sunday timeslot. The word most used to describe it today would be 'cheesy.' The characters were broad, the villains comically inept, the dire premise -- survivors of a multi-planet apocalypse wander through space -- forgotten as long as it didn't tie into this week's plot. I was seven the year Galactica aired; I saw every episode first-run.
Things you love as a seven-year-old rarely retain their magic. There are still about a dozen episodes of A-list Galactica that I enjoyed for their own sake. These I still have on a battered VHS tape alongside the other artifacts of the VHS era, with random episodes of MST3K and Exo-Squad. The much larger B-list I caught on occasion as the series bounced from syndication to the Sci-Fi channel and other spots on cable. Still, a good decade went by without a viewing of every episode, that would wait until the 1978 version finally received a late-2003 DVD collection.
Fittingly, even the dvd release was a cash-in on its betters: the impending revamp of the series. I watched it immediately, enjoyed its cheese, groaned through overexposure of Boxey and Muffett, and haven't watched a minute since.
Then, the Moore miniseries came and it had some moments, but like all introductions to SF series, it was lurching and awkward, so I resolved to give it a chance to develop: the enthused presence of Edward Olmos more than offset my nagging doubts.
A year-plus later I remember that I stopped worrying and learned to love the new Galactica in The Hand of God, a later first-season outing that shared a title, and more than a little tone with A-list Larson Galactica.
From there the series improved leaps and bounds; by the time it ended it was on the short list of both the best dramas of the 21st century and the best TV SF of all time. Looking back now on the Larson show, it's beyond incredible that the remake achieved so much on the same premise.
You can't help viewing the old series through the prism of the new, which has been over for about a month when I began this. While the 70s SF action sensibilities and effects maintain some charm, and the principal cast is stolid enough for the exercise, at this point in time it seems clear that the Moore series has surpassed the original in nearly every way.
If I had to boil down the problems of the Larson series in one word, it'd be: simple. One could suggest it's a sign of the times, and another homage to the Star Wars school of entertainment. Yet Star Wars remade myths, where Galactica with its clear Chariots of the Gods? origins feels desperately artificial. The most complex characters have two dimensions. The main villain almost one, if you read very much into nearly everything he does. It went out of its way to preach that Military=good civilians=bad. The plots are no deeper than the philosophy -- they're Television, rarely with more weight than their sets.
And yet here I am, still thinking about it after all this time. Onward.
---
Episode 1: Saga of a Star World
The Colonial fleet of Battlestars nears the rendezvous to seal the armistice with the Cylons.
On the Atlantia, President Adar throws down hubris-laden praise of the Quorum of the Twelve, the Colonies' governing body. He opens with the declaration of approaching "the most significant event in the history of mankind," and follows through with "the greatest leaders ever assembled.*" Better than the wheel, or flight, or surviving the journey to/from Kobol, this: the imminent armistice that ends a war spanning a paltry sixth of recorded history. He avoids directly quoting Chamberlain, but the parallel is obvious.
Continuing our character introductions, we meet the two leads of the series, clearly built in the Han and Luke mode: Starbuck, Apollo, and Apollo's younger brother, Zac. Zac is experiencing the Jarhead effect: graduating warrior academy just in time to see the war end. The two-fighter Colonial patrol is the most-executed mission in classic Galactica, and naturally the most common story-introducing trope. Against his better judgment of the younger man's flying skills, Starbuck feigns illness, (while maintaining his f-appeal by appearing shirtless and chewing on a cigar) allowing Zac his first and only chance at glory. Hatch opens the scene with soon-to-be-trademark Apollo sanctimony, but once Zac leaves, he displays a touch more personality.
Returning to the Atlantia, we briefly meet Baltar, with whom the Cylons have worked to reach this stage in negotiations. Curiously, Adar now describes the forthcoming "negotiations," whereas before the armistice sounded a done deal. Colicos' Baltar never learned the word subtlety, and even his humble acceptance of Adar's praise feels venomous. As Baltar departs, Adar receives the Republican Response -- likely for the nth time -- from Adama regarding the undesirability -- even the impossibility -- of peace.
The positions of both men are simplistic: Adar is too trusting, Adama too suspicious; neither speaks as if this were a cease-fire between warring nations rather than a decision to forcibly co-habitate. Perhaps of more interest from an analytical view is that this scene --- and the overarching concept of an armistice in general -- seems a holdover from a point in the series' development when the Cylons were a reptilian alien race and not robots left behind following the demise of their creators: Adama uses the phrase "they hate us with every fiber of their existence." Indeed, are negotiations even possible with berzerker robots? Aside from the rarely-seen Imperious Leader (and later-introduced IL-model cylons), the Cylons seem scarcely capable of conversation, much less diplomacy.
Rebuffed, Adama returns to the Galactica where he learns that Zac and Apollo's patrol is under attack from a thousand-to-one Cylon air force. His second, Colonel Tigh, seems more outraged than Adama himself when President Adar refuses to bring the fleet to an attack footing (thanks, naturally, to Baltar Grima-ing in his ear). Excuses are made regarding smugglers or pirates, which are never seen once in this series -- only mentioned twice as an excuse to avoid drawing the obvious conclusion from available data.
The attack succeeds beyond the Cylons' most optimistic projections. None of the other Battlestars manage to launch fighters,** and the monstrous ships themselves seem absurdly vulnerable without them. Amidst the fighting, Starbuck notes that the "main attack" is concentrated on Adar's Atlantia, and when the ship is finished (allowing Adar one pitiful dying declaration of regret), Adama, clearly the smartest military mind present, does not take time to even consider the other Battlestars; instead he pulls the Galactica out of the fleet (with but one Viper left; Apollo's) in order for everyone to watch silently in a fine scene that helps sell the devastation,*** as the Cylon Basestars annihilate their home worlds punctuated by panicked oh-the-humanity commentary by civilian broadcasts -- one of whom by Apollo's imminent love interest, Serina.
So established is the series' premise -- the Last Battlestar, Galactica, leads a rag-tag, fugitive fleet... that the heroes of the show desert their fellows and their own fighters at a critical moment. Would one ship have made a difference in the here-and-now? One of the biggest traps in writing visual SF is having the heroes believably lose a fight without contrivance or blatant stupidity. Here, it's not even close.
While Adama and Apollo visit the still-burning surface of Caprica, the Galactica itself returns to rendezvous with the fleet, only to be gobsmacked that the fleet has been wiped out, but for seventy Vipers from the various ships.
While Adama wrestled with maintaining command of the fleet in a deleted subplot, the powers-that-be could have easily cut the following scene to make room: over three minutes of Athena talking a heavily-damaged Starbuck into a landing. When safely back aboard, Starbuck is livid: how dare Adama abandon him! He ignores the larger implications of the sneak attack and the catastrophic losses to the fleet (he'll remain in a state of denial throughout the pilot episode) in favor of his tirade, leaving Athena (usually recognized as the cast's weakest link) to inform him that the Colonies are gone: don't you get it? Kicked the bucket.
In the ruins of the family home on Caprica, Adama and Apollo enact a scene that the Moore series would use perhaps too often in its closing days: old man loses it, son comforts him. When a Serina-and-Boxey-led torch-carrying mob (Apollo calls them a "crowd," but let's face the truth) arrives to demand answers from the convenient representatives of the clearly deficient Colonial military, Adama rolls the hard six and wins them over with a consolatory yet inspiring speech: tell everyone to get to any ship they can and let's all get out of here, because we're all going to Earth. Where is it? How do we get there? Not sure. He concedes that they will fight back, something Adama is hesitant throughout the series to do.
While 220 ships move to join the Galactica, we wind down act one by catching up with Baltar, last seen dispensing pacifist bleatings on president Adar; now apparently surveying the results of his hard work from the same Caprican hillside near the Adama house. In this scene, Baltar of the Larson series is the worst sort of villain: he's evil for the sake of evil. Practically bouncing with joy that "their destruction is complete," he is disturbed by his accompanying Centurion's reports (this is the most informative Centurion in the entire series, for what it's worth) of the refugee ships and bids the Cylons exterminate the survivors. This naturally begs the question: with no military opposition, why are the Cylons not easily picking off the refugees as they flee?
The middle of the pilot sags as the post-armageddon status quo firms up. In a continuation of their relationship subplot back on the Galactica, Starbuck is attempting a clumsy apology for his post-apocalypse lashing out at Athena. He promises her that whatever disaster of a relationship he can offer her will pale in comparison to the worlds-spanning genocide they've already survived. Intrigued by this candor (not enough to take him back: she's half-dressed and modestly hiding behind furniture throughout the scene), Athena casually dissects his reluctant-warrior facade, leaving him nothing to do but exit. It's Athena's last scene with any gravitas.
 |
| No subtlety from the extras, either. |
The next survey stop takes them to the Rising Star, a former cruise vessel catering to the rich and still well-fed. Serina and Boxey are also aboard though in a lower class of stateroom, which allows incremental progress on The Apollo-Serina relationship as well as regrettably putting into motion the creation of Muffet II. A better use of Apollo's time is on the upper decks, where Sire Uri, a decadent politician already elected to a new Quorum, holds his court. Apollo's sanctimony is well channeled into sharp mockery of Uri's "period of mourning" for his wife, so recently deceased, and then he attainders all the food Uri's guests are enjoying to the benefit of the starving masses.
Uri ripostes in the following Quorum scene, as the council debates the fleet's course toward supplies. Adama rejects the easier destination Uri advocates in favor of a longer trek to Carillon, site of our third act. Apollo obligingly walks right into the cut by volunteering himself to clear a more dangerous direct path to Carillon*****, through a dense Cylon minefield. Uri deftly changes course, supporting Apollo's plan, clearly hoping ill for the commander's son.
The night before the minefield sweep, Adama is getting as close to Olmos-Adama territory as he ever will -- swilling liquor and pleading (literally; this is still 1978) for anyone to take this burden from him. Fortunately, the remainder of that subplot gets deleted. More lightly, Apollo and Starbuck goof off on dates with their respective girlfriends. Fortunately for everyone, Boomer has no known personal life and his professionalism is able to cover for his friends. Thanks for saving the fleet, Boomer!
As the fleet arrives at Carillon, we check in on Baltar again. Now standing before the Cylon Imperious Leader (voice of Patrick Macnee), he's no longer bouncy with joy: his colony was supposed to be exempt from extermination! Darn you machines with a 1000-year-vendetta, you double-crossed me! The IL scoffs at his outrage, noting Baltar's flimsy motives for betraying his people. He then invokes the Bespin clause of their agreement: abrupt severance, and Baltar is sent away for "public execution." Those machines, they love a show.
The episode's tone shifts wildly when our heroes discover a five-star gambling resort on the planet, full of Colonial tourists ignorant of the holocaust. Eager for shore leave, Starbuck immediately abandons his survey in favor of table gaming and cockeyed fantasies of hiring the casino's lounge act for an intergalactic tour. Seriously, wtf? He actually prattles on about some "star circuit," which in all probability has just been annihilated, on his watch no less. Boomer, still undeveloped, gives Starbuck some much-needed moral guidance.
 |
| A face made for back-of-house work. |
The exact timeline of the Carillon scenes is hard to determine. Implying days go by between Quorum meetings, screechy tourist disappearances, and Starbuck's problem of chasing two rabbits, some characters never seem to leave the Casino, or, indeed, change their clothes. Is it one day? A month? Er, a centon?
As Adama and Tigh suspect a trap and move to counter it, Uri proposes the fleet stay on Carillon forever and destroy its ships and weapons as a gesture of submission. During a lavish ceremony to honor our three Viper pilots, the trap is sprung! A force of Cylons move on the fleet while the majority of the Galactica's pilots are planetside. Serendipitously, our heroes planetside discover the secret motivations of the Ovions, and during a brief skirmish, ignite the vast tylium deposits...******
Much earlier, during his patrol with Zac, Apollo states that the Cylons can't win without a ten-to-one margin. This seems true as the smaller task force is completely incapable of fighting even half the Galactica's ships until the other half can be brought up from Carillon. Soon all the raiders are dispatched, and in a terribly unlikely sequence, Starbuck and Apollo punk the Imperious Leader into maneuvering his basestar too close to the now-unstable planet, which conveniently destroys all the threats at once!
In the epilogue, we meet the new IL; same voice as the old IL. Baltar is brought to see him -- yes, that same guy who was earlier removed for public execution. From his appearance, the method of choice for executions in the Cylon Empire seems to be Extreme Pillow Fight. Also, brown boots with cream toga: tacky. The new IL claims he's a more tolerant IL, and wishes Baltar to extend a truce to his former countrymen. Yes, there are a million reasons against anyone ever trusting the man. Yes, the IL does anyway. --
* This Quorum is much more pan-ethnic than the 2003 series -- asian, arabic, black -- I'd wager fewer Canadian actors were required to appear. In a deleted extension to the scene, Baltar's toast indicates the colonies were less-than-friendly rivals prior to the Adar presidency.
** Directly contradicted later, when fighters from other ships land; let's assume that the others still had CAPs or alert fighters with some degree of readiness.
*** Apollo tries to give his father a benediction by way of the baffling sentence: There really wasn't any choice. To do what? Follow the president into this trainwreck? Abandon their comrades to die? Which he is certain of -- only moments later he asserts that Adama is the "only surviving member" of the Quorum.
**** Momentarily, there's a sinister undercurrent to Tigh and Adama's gaming expectations with regard to the fleet's food supply; but this is quickly forgotten.
***** Uri is an interesting character who receives a decent amount of backstory considering that he appears only in the pilot. A civilian government with an agenda is avoided until very late in the Larson series, but these scenes indicate it was at least a notion they considered. Adama's laying into Apollo for allowing Uri's play sheds some interesting light both on Uri himself and the morality of the series. Adama disparages the middle-aged, decadent Uri, asiding that perhaps Caprica's decadence led to the fall. By contrast, Apollo indicts his father's hesitance to take action, noting perhaps that he's lost some of his nerve.
Also, shortly, this scene also shows that the colonial time system has yet to be nailed down. By later reckoning, Apollo here advocates a more dangerous route in order to save minutes of time.
****** Hmm, enormous deposits of notoriously unstable fuel ore. Fire safety, anyone? Anyone? Of course, the soon-vaporized fuel (not to mention food) is still needed! In his last log entry prior to launching his anti-trap initiative, Adama notes that the fuel sent to the fleet is in curiously small quantities. While the humans triumph for the moment, they're in roughly the same shape as they were in act 2. Like Star Trek, the status quo is reset when the closing credits begin,
--
Pros: Deleted scene extras that explain some plot points.
Cons: Villain with no motive, heroes with no brain.
Then: B+
Now: C
--
Episode 2: Lost Planet of the Gods, Part 1.
Over on Cylonia, we're replaying last week's epilogue. Baltar has been pardoned by the Imperious Leader and sent forth with a new mission: chew scenery on his own Basestar until the humans submit.
In another improbability, the ladies train up from hopelessly inept (yet panderingly fetching in their sheer "pressure suit" undergarments) to successfully destroying the Cylon outpost in the space of two acts, enabling the Galatica's medical staff (now featuring Cassiopeia; following that obvious career path from courtesan to nurse...) to begin a treatment for the afflicted pilots.
Pros: "For Sagan's sake, don't shoot me."
Cons: Clearly, the threat the Cylons present is minimal if a squadron of nuggets can overwhelm them.
--
Episode 3: Lost Planet of the Gods, Part 2.
Finding a void reference in "The Book of the Word," Adama orders the fleet into certain death.. rather, the void. Naturally, he's correct, and this void is in fact the one near the Colonial origin world, Kobol.
 |
| The "Wrapped around your finger" wedding. |
Kobol from a distance looks just like Egypt, and in tighter shots seems to be leftover Spartacus sets on the Universal backlot. The newlyweds waste little time to join the "ancient origin world of our species" club. Adama quickly finds an ancient tomb carved with ancient writings. The way to Earth? We'll never be sure, as Baltar pops in for a chat. He offers Starbuck as good faith toward a joint strike on Cylonia. Apollo is intrigued by this (the Starbuck part, I hope) but Adama will hear none of it. Curiously, he then tells Baltar all of his post-holocaust strategy, including their ultimate destination.
On Baltar's basestar, Lucifer is trying out the command chair, and learning again what dreadful cognitive faculties the centurions possess. It's an odd little scene, not exactly informative, developmental, or comedic, and far too long to get to a simple point: forget Baltar, attack the humans now!
With the nugget warriors all on Kobol (didn't these people learn anything from Carillon?), they're pressed hard by the basestar's raiders, who partially collapse the pyramid Adama, Apollo, Serina, and Baltar are exploring. The good guys barely make it out, leaving Baltar to rage, dusty and trapped (...buried alive?).
Things are looking bleak for our heroes, when, back on the Galactica, the fresh-from-sickbay pilots, barely capable of standing (and almost surely not of fighter combat) take the enemy in the rear.
As Adama mourns the loss of the ancient hieroglyphics which detailed the route to Earth, Jane Seymour's guest star tenure is up: two Centurians mortally wound her.* After lengthy, tearful goodbyes, Boxey's half an orphan again!
* In the whole of the series, there's only one other time where a Centurion even manages to hit a Colonial with gunfire. And he lives.
--
Pros: Baltar's good at almost selling his plan to avenge the colonies...
Cons: Oh, right.. Serina must die now. Why not just have a rock fall on her? The Cylons will never be this dangerous again.
Then: B+
Now: C
No comments:
Post a Comment