Nerds of the universe and the legions of faithful television watchers gave their last salutes to one of the finest shows produced for the small screen ever: Battlestar Galactica, which ended its fourth and final season this past Friday.
It also marks the end of another important television program by carving another notch on to the belt of television’s “Golden Age, Part 2”, a time in entertainment that comes closer to an end with each and every series finale that occurs. This is both a good and a bad thing, depending how one wishes to view modern television programming or television in general. On one hand, the rise of reality-based series steadily inclines, giving way for critics to further scoff at the idea of paying mind to the boob-tube, especially since more shows such as BSG are hanging up their hats, and leaving a void to be filled. And on the other hand, shows like BSG are part of a legacy about how powerful television can be and, when done with foresight and sophistication, can ascend from a lowly form of entertainment into a fine medium for artistic expression.
Being a latecomer to BSG is something to admit with a tinge of regret. Like most people, hearing Battlestar Galactica brought up in conversation was the equivalent of shaking the hand of a guy you saw in the bathroom who didn’t wash his hands before he left—it was awkward and nobody really wanted to touch it. Even when catching up on old episodes on DVD I would often hide the fact from my girlfriend that I was indulging in a guilty, geeky pleasure and do anything to avoid the subject later. Because the perception of BSG, aside from it being a reinvention of Star Trek wannabe show from the late 1970’s, is that it dealt with yet another make believe world of science fiction lore which only the alumni of your high school AV club could decipher. Is this true? Yes, guilty as charged. I’m willing to admit that I have no idea what happened on Earth thousands of years ago, how it lead to the resurrection technology, or what Ellen Tigh’s background as a Cylon has anything to do with anything else. The series is guilty of creating hardcore sci-fi mythology and there is no denying it.
But that does not matter because it is also guilty of great acting, especially on the parts of Edward James Olmos, Mary McDonnell, James Callis, and Michael Hogan. Ronald D. Moore and the writers of BSG evolved storylines and character arches that are damn near perfect, from the opening mini-series down to the last detail of the Final Five Cylons. And most of all, as the finale proved once and for all, BSG has a well-crafted ability to combined a James Joyce-like saga with Shakespearian personas and have it all be about a war against rebellious robotic beings living in the dead of space. It is television at its best because it is science fiction at its best, but the two could never have existed had they not been embracing one another (I would not have read a novel Battlestar Galactica). The emotion and the heart of a hero’s journey exist in BSG, meaning that no matter what elaborate ancient history the series rides on to thrust the main action of the characters it will be outweighed by the genuine heartbreak felt when Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh toast their glasses to the ship upon reaching the decision to abandon the Galactica.
So, like a crusty old sailor of the stars, I too raise my glass to bid a fond farewell to BSG for raising the bar of what’s on television, for proving that science fiction can play the role of art (and vice versa), and for giving me a feeling that I will carry with me as one era of terrific storytelling walks off into the sunset and we wait for the next one to come blazing in on a Viper plane. Battlestar Galactica has set a standard, one which has happened before, but is unlikely to be matched again for some time.
