Roush Review
I almost rejected the assignment of reviewing Sci Fi's remake — or is it
relaunch? — of Battlestar Galactica. No good can come from this, I told myself.
I know all too well how passionate sci-fi fans can be about their pet
franchises. (Imagine someone trying to destroy my beloved Farscape. Oh, wait.
Sci Fi already did that.)
Hearing of the furor that erupted when news of this revisionist miniseries
began to leak, I was reminded of how I felt when my own childhood fave, Lost in
Space, was turned into a laughably leaden big-budget movie.
Full disclosure: I was never a Battlestar Galactica fan. In college during its
brief initial run and watching precious little TV at the time, I had no
interest in what seemed to me to be an especially cheesy Star Wars clone. Time
has not improved my outlook. I recently watched some of the original series on
DVD — love the Cylon packaging — and, while respecting the budget limitations
of the time, couldn't imagine what people ever saw in it.
So when I give Sci Fi's new version a cautious thumbs up, put it in
perspective. I especially liked the conceit that as this miniseries begins, the
original Battlestar is being retired into a tourist-trap museum, an artifact of
an earlier and simpler time (much like the original series). Yes, it's
predictable that this underequipped vessel will once again become the flagship
for the battered remnants of the human race, outmatched and outfought by the
Cylon robot warriors they had created. And yes, it takes an awfully long time
to get to that point in this leisurely paced two-part movie.
But I was impressed by this new Galactica's grim, apocalyptic tone. It's a
serious attempt at dark sci-fi action-adventure, rarely corny and far less self-
infatuated than the recent series of Star Wars prequels I've had to fight not
to fall asleep while watching.
My main objections involve the gratuitously graphic hanky-panky in the opening
reels. This is no longer a show for the kiddies. When first we meet this
movie's sexually rapacious Big Bad — a humanoid Cylon in slut's clothing known
as Number Six (shades of Seven of Nine?) — she gropes a diplomat before causing
some explosive chaos, and later beds the devious Dr. Baltus before launching an
attack on the 12 Colonies that leaves only Galactica to lead a retreat to the
mythical refuge known as Earth.
The dialogue is almost always too portentous. The acting (including Edward
James Olmos's mopey Commander Adama) is often wooden — although I kind of
enjoyed the brashness of Katee Sackhoff's controversial distaff version of the
cigar-chomping pilot Starbuck. And the entire enterprise has a musty déjà vu
quality. But if this were to go to series, I'd almost certainly go along for
the ride for a while.
In some aspects (mostly technical), this is the Battlestar Galactica the
original producers could only dream of making. Was it worth the effort? Let the
debate continue.
Variety Magazine Review
www.variety.com
Posted: Thurs., Dec. 4, 2003, 4:02pm PT
Battlestar Galactica
(Miniseries -- Sci Fi, Mon. Dec. 8, Tue. Dec. 9, 9 p.m.)
Filmed in Vancouver by Michael R. Joyce Prods. and distributed by USA Cable
Entertainment. Executive producers, David Eick, Ronald D. Moore; producers,
Harvey Frand; consulting producer, Glen A. Larson; director, Michael Rymer;
writers, Moore, Christopher Eric James, based on a teleplay by Larson;
Commander Adama - Edward James Olmos
By BRIAN LOWRY
Like a present-day aircraft carrier, "Battlestar Galactica" takes a while to
find its directional heading and build up steam, but once it does, this
proves to be a surprisingly engrossing odyssey. Surprising because it's
based on a 25-year-old concept that was jettisoned out of orbit, mostly
remembered as a "Star Wars" knockoff (there was even a lawsuit contending as
much) with pricey special effects by John Dykstra. In this new version,
however, the martial themes resonate with a certain timeliness, making it
easy to see how this backdoor pilot could make the hyperleap to a series
revival.
Those with a hazy recollection of the original, starring Lorne Greene,
probably don't recall "Galactica" as a seething cauldron of sexuality.
Still, that was a long time ago, and the target audience of young males
(many born since the show signed off in 1980) has doubtless come to expect a
bit more sizzle from their sci-fi.
Exec producer Ronald D. Moore, who shares script credit with Christopher
Eric James, and director Michael Rymer have concocted a knowing update of
the earlier concept that also draws liberally from other science fiction
sources. The mix includes paranoia over sex-crazed robots that resemble
humans (assuming said humans are Victoria's Secret models) and a "Starship
Troopers"-like combination of youthful lust and massive loss under fire from
a formidable enemy.
As the story opens, the floating fortress Galactica is preparing to be
decommissioned and turned into a museum piece, its starboard launch already
transformed into a gift shop. No one has seen the dreaded Cylons -- a race
of rogue robots once bent on destroying humankind -- in 40 years, so the
biggest headache facing Commander Adama (Edward James Olmos) is his
estrangement from his son, Apollo (Jamie Bamber).
All at once, however, the Cylons strike, obliterating the core of the 12
colonies' fleet and inflicting millions of casualties. The troops are
exhorted to "kick some Cylon ass" (do they have asses?), but the overmatched
Galactica is soon in full retreat, struggling to save refugees, while the
43rd cabinet member in line of presidential succession (Mary McDonnell) is
thrust into command.
Beyond the soap opera elements, with characters hopping in and out of bed,
the series plays as a rumination on military preparedness and vigilance.
Young soldiers drilled in peacetime suddenly find themselves in combat,
overmatched by a foe that, in an early encounter, exerts control over their
computer systems -- their Cyclops eyes flashing like the robot Gort in "The
Day the Earth Stood Still."
Olmos and McDonnell provide the stabilizing core of what's otherwise a cast
of mostly unknowns; he's all grit and clenched teeth as he watches his
troops routed and the death toll mount.
Among the various twists, the hot-shot pilot Starbuck (originally played by
that dreamy Dirk Benedict) is now a woman (Katee Sackhoff), who chomps
cigars and punches out a superior officer.
Meanwhile, a brilliant scientist unwittingly seduced by a beautiful Cylon
mole (Tricia Helfer, who is, in fact, a former Victoria's Secret model) is
plagued by her taunting image -- part of the mini's they-look-like-us Cold
War paranoia, reminiscent of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" or John
Carpenter's "The Thing."
Despite some languid moments along the way, there's a strong sense of
tension in the concluding hour, which cleverly establishes where a potential
series might go without leaving so many strands dangling as to be
unsatisfying if the voyage ends here.
Oddly enough, then, as the "Star Trek" franchise runs low on fuel, the
semi-obscure "Galactica" could be ripe for a relaunch. After all, TV and
science fiction have long had one thing in common: Each has a penchant for
looking to the past in order to chart the future.
camera, Joel Ransom; editor, Dany Cooper; music, Richard Gibbs; production
design, Richard Hudolin; visual effects supervisor, Gary Hutzel; casting,
Eric Dawson, Robert Ulrich, Coreen Mayrs, Heike Brandstatter. 240 MIN.
TV Review: Battlestar Galactica
A disappointingly minimalist and uninvolving rendering of a very promising
concept.
December 05, 2003 - "Never create what you can't control" implores the
promotional campaign for the Sci Fi Channel's "reinvention" of Battlestar
Galactica. Perhaps the network should have heeded its own advice: Rarely in the
history of entertainment has a "re-imagining" demonstrated so much contempt for
its source material – and rarely has a project with so much innate potential
failed on so many fundamental levels. The new Galactica is not just a sewer
dweller of a remake – it is a behemoth of troubled and inprecise storytelling
whose brightest moments are only dim approximations of what they might have
been.
The trouble seems to stem from the ground up – it's difficult to look at
this "miniseries" (a two-part, four-hour TV movie) and believe The Powers That
Be had any true understanding of the qualities that allowed the original 1978
television series to remain in people's memories for over two decades, or
possessed the slightest comprehension of the stirring human drama indigenous in
the concept itself.
Original series creator Glen A. Larson's multifaceted, allegorical epic has
been replaced here by a one-dimensional "bottle" show (industry term for a show
that rarely leaves a contained environment). The original series could be seen
as a scathing examination of reverse imperialism: An enlightened, borderline
decadent culture (the "human race" – a.k.a. Western Civilization) is run from
its homeland by an oppressive empire of mechanical warriors who relentlessly
hunt them down – bent on genocidally exterminating mankind. These automatons
were utterly uninterested in the desires, hopes, or fears of others – they
wanted only one way of things in the universe – their way – and would settle
for nothing less. So, in essence, Galactica was originally an allegory for
Western Civilization (the United States, Great Britain, etc.) being bullied and
burned in the same way we have bullied and burned other nations for centuries.
Piled on top of this sublime socio-political undercurrent were several other
intriguing ironies and conceits:
These mechanical nemeses were called Cylons. They were a humanoid species who
became so entwined with its technology that the technology became a physical
part of them. I.e., they were "the Borg" – about a decade before the Borg
debuted on Star Trek: The Next Generation. Despite their technology-over-
naturalism approach, the Cylon hierarchy of command was actually rotting from
within due to some very human failings: Greed, opportunism, and lack of
accountability perpetually hindered the Cylon efforts to exterminate mankind.
The human failings of these technically perfect machines was slowly becoming
their undoing.
These humans, who are being hunted from existence by these pesky lords of
technology, repeatedly turn to technology to save themselves.
No matter how you look at it, the show's core was about faith. The characters
in the original series did not always agree with each other, nor did they
always comprehend (individually, or as a populous) what their future held. Not
all of them were certain they would even find the new home they were seeking –
"a shining planet known as Earth" – nor did they always believe in the people
leading them there. But, somehow, they always found faith. Not just faith
in "Gods" or "lords" (although religion & its place in society were certainly
elements in the series) – faith in The Way of Things. Faith that tragic endings
really can herald new beginnings. Faith in the axiom that we are only as alone
as we let ourselves be. Faith in the strength of fellowship – sometimes having
someone at our side in the darkest hour is more meaningful than the most
powerful weapon anyone can construct. Faith that hope is more significant than
all the answers we could ever actively seek. Faith that somehow, in some way,
things will be better.
These qualities are not being mentioned in order to talk-up the (admittedly
flawed) original series. This is simply meant to provide a sampling of the
innate conceptual depth you will not find in the new Galactica. Gone is nearly
every edgy and unique undercurrent that fuels the basic premise. Galactica is
about a holocaust, yet the new movie offers no moments as gutwrenchingly
truthful as the original series' pan around the Battlestar's bridge...to see
the faces of Galactica's crew...crying in anguish...as they watch live video
feeds of their homeworlds being obliterated. Here, Galactica gets wind of the
Cylon attack on the human's homeworlds, and her crew stands around discussing
the incident as if chatting about the score of a football game. There's a
moment when lead Edward James Olmos believes someone he loves to be dead – he
looks more like he needs laxatives than appearing genuinely upset. The people
in this movie are as cold and mechanical as the Cylons they are fighting – and
as cold and mechanical as the desperately contrived plot around them. All
things considered, it's rather silly – and extremely distancing.
There's a very real sense this new Galactica is terrified to be genuine. Which
is odd given the producers' repeated insistence that their new "take" on the
show was designed to accentuate both realism and humanity. But every moment
that (even skittishly) approaches being "real" or "human" is catastrophically
muted by innate tackiness and sleazy excess. There is sex on this show – more
sex than many viewers have likely seen (or had) in some time. But there is no
love making. There is hostility, doubt, and anger – but not towards ideas that
matter. The humans focus it on each other – where is affection, respect, and
cohesion in a time of apocalyptic crisis? There is spoken remorse, but where
are the tears? The good ship Galactica rarely embodies heroism, decency, or any
quality that makes humanity exceptional – only dysfunction, distrust, and
antagonism are evident. And if this is the measure of the human race,
why...exactly...are we worth saving?
Galactica is utterly annihilated by narrative laziness, and a staggering
inattention to detail – but this is only a reflection of logic gaffes which
eventually grind the show's Teletubbies-like pacing to a nearly complete halt.
Bizarre inconsistencies like:
Cylons use nuclear weapons. If "nukes" exist in this universe, then so must the
Electo-Magnetic Pulse (EMP) that accompanies the blast. EMP can stop machines
dead in their tracks. Why isn't it used against the Cylons here? It is not –
here, with no explanation given. In this Galactica universe, the holocaust that
sets mankind on the run to begin with would, in actuality, be something of a
wash.
The human race has now mastered faster-than-light travel of some sort, and the
creation of artificial intelligence. Why are we still having trouble beating
diseases like cancer, against which significant headway has already been made
in our (much more primitive) modern time? Instead, we are treated to a
profoundly awkward sequence in which Mary McDonnell – suffering from the
disease – sneaks into the restroom of a space shuttle to feel her breast on-
camera.
The Cylons despise mankind so much that they will settle for nothing less than
bombing us out of existence. So, the next generation model of
Cylon...what...looks human? They're embracing the template for the very thing
they wish to destroy? No matter how desperately the filmmakers try to misdirect
us from this fact, it doesn't bring any integrity or – or any baseline points
of association – to the proceedings. If anything, the humanizing of the Cylons
nearly completely undercuts the story both variants of Galactica are trying to
tell. Which goes back to the lack of understanding...not just about Galactica,
but dramatic dynamic in general...mentioned above. It is difficult, if not
impossible, to undertake an endeavor successfully if its essence has not been
clearly defined.
Regardless of whether this miniseries is judged as a "remake" / "re-invention" –
or if it is considered on its own merits – Galactica may ultimately be
remembered as one of the most dispassionate, antagonistic, pessimistic, and
impersonal "dramas" mounted for television in some time. It shuns the most
precious conceit in its own basic story...indeed, the most precious commodity
anywhere: Hope. This doesn't make for a show that is evocative, atmospheric, or
emotionally challenging. This simply creates for a relentlessly unpleasant
viewing experience. Battlestar Galactica is as artificially inflated as some of
the most hollow programming ever aired on television. Beautiful people...posing
and posturing...spend their time being smart asses (or shouting and bickering)
because they are not grown-up enough – or professional enough – to communicate
more effectively, or attain their goals through any other means. Galactica more
closely resembles an episode of melodramatic oldies like Melrose Place or
Dynasty than epic science fiction, or any mythos ever created. It feels (and
even looks) more like the Wing Commander feature film than a show that is
trying to be as unique and as different as its producers have repeatedly
asserted. In fact, Wing Commander isn't a bad comparison to this new
miniseries. If you've seen that movie, then you've a fair clue what to expect
here.
Which begs the question: If this is all The Powers That Be ever intended to
bring to the show, why bother to utilize such a compelling premise at all,
especially in light of the abandonment of its most basic tenets? Glen A.
Larson – who did not write this miniseries, but was owed a "written by" credit
on this new project (as creator of the source material) per Writers Guild of
America stipulations – opted to not place his real name on this reboot,
installing the pseudonym Christopher Eric James instead. Which, in itself,
speaks volumes.
In the end, it is Galactica fans – who have waited decades for their show to
return – who will be most hurt by potentially negative fallout from this
miniseries. Should the project evolve into a television series, it's unlikely
anyone interested in the original will be able to stomach Battlestar Light on a
weekly basis. Should ratings for this broadcast not pan out, the fanbase will
be summarily blamed by a network decrying "no one wants to see Galactica
anymore!" – and little thought will be given to the disenfranchising nature of
the product being generated.
This has happened before, when Warner Bros. (unaffiliated with this project)
decided fans didn't want more Batman movies, after the dismal failure of Batman
and Robin. No one stopped to think that fans did, in actuality, want more
Batman – they just wanted better product...and something more truthful to the
namesake...than what they got. They voted with their pocket books, and they got
burned. It's taken 6 years for another Bat flick to finally hit the pipeline.
It's likely Galactica would take quite a bit longer to be re-re-born if things
don't go well when the miniseries airs on December 8 and 9. Which isn't a
reasonable fate for any title of this nature, and a graphic exemplification of
why more care should be taken when undertaking such endeavors.
The new Battlestar Galactica embodies everything wrong with the creative
process in filmmaking and television these days – and plainly illustrates the
all-too-obvious hazards of remaking material simply for the sake of remaking
it. Perhaps someday Galactica will live again...again, and someone will come
along and reverse engineer the damage that Moore and company have brought to
the equation. Maybe then we'll end up with a product that actually demonstrates
a bit of thought and common sense – and find a show that remotely resembles the
series being deliberately evoked through the use of the title itself...
-- Glen Oliver
Laura Roslin - Mary McDonnell
Capt. Lee Adama (Apollo) - Jamie Bamber
Lt. Kara Thrace (Starbuck) - Katee Sackhoff
Gaius Baltar - James Callis
Number Six - Tricia Helfer
Lt. Sharon Valerii (Boomer) - Grace Park