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11:57 pm: BSG

Short form: I am entirely satisfied by the conclusion of Battlestar Galactica.

Long form:
My favorite parts of the series that did not involve Starbuck and her penchant for doing sit-ups in a sports bra had to do with the fact that the Cylons have a theology that works. Their God is a God of mathematics – but also a God with purpose. That would be just as silly as other theologies, except that they have a large set of results that seem to say that they’re working with something real. They have prophecies, mysterious clues … even faith … and that faith seems to work to their net benefit over the long term. More specifically, their prophecies work out quite nicely. The overlap of a science driven world with visions and prophecy that accurately reflect the world appeals to me. In a fictional context, of course.

Baltar puts it well in the Opera House / CIC:

God is a force of nature. Good and evil? We invented those.

The conclusion satisfied me by bringing that back. Baltar and Caprica 6 were always something slightly other within the context of the show. I mean, what was with their useful, prescient hallucinations? Sure, they’re human and cylon. They would have to be in order to play their recurring role. But the secret of resurrection? Invented and lost. Invented and lost. The cycle continues. Those two are something else – not particularly interested in seeing the cycle continue, but not willing to let the spark die out, and also not willing to just speak up because we have to solve the puzzle ourselves. The secret to their resurrection? Perhaps that’s God.

You know he doesn't like that name.

Starbuck achieves full bodily-assumption Nirvana. What was she? An angel? A fully realized sentient being? Something entirely else? This is where the prophecies of the cylons fell down. She was, to them, the armageddon. The doomsday being – leading everyone to their annihilation. Their prophecies know her – but only as the agent of chance and circumstance that lead to the cycle continuing. Her annihilation was not so much the players as the play. Starbuck represents the power of guts and of living with the heart rather than the head. Of course the buddha would be one hell of an athlete.

Aware of death, but not afraid. Break the cycle. There must be some kind of way out of here. Hell yeah. Break what cycle? Birth, death, rebirth, suffering, war. That cycle.

The visuals were hard to beat. Galactica taking one last savage beating, right in the pincers of the colony. Adama looking at his hybrid CIC. Roslin, unable to effectively triage – to give up on even one more person. It was really a thing of beauty.

And, of course, Starbuck back to her old self for a bit: Could we not tell her the plan?

Finally: Adama gruffly talking to Roslin’s grave after a hard day’s work continuing to build their dream home – perhaps years after her death – brought a tear to my eye. A speck of warmth to my cold, dark heart is worth four seasons of loyalty. Yes, it was even worth gutsing through all of season three, and the first half of four.

Originally published at chris.dwan.org. You can comment here or there.



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