BSG: Six of One (ITALICS FIXED)
I just got to rewatch this episode without glitching every other moment, so I think I'm ready to talk about it now. Although I fear a great deal of what I'm about to say is massively personally biased crack!
So, I give you: the episode in which everyone except Adama learns that you can wake up one day and decide, "to hell with the rules."
The Lee scenes were quiet, almost normal, happy, respectful, calm by comparison. It's easy to think that they are out of place amidst the screaming, the identity crises, the slow death by chemo versus the slow death by cancer, the violence, the sexual exploitation. Then I figure, no, the number of people in the Fleet who are imploding is small. For most of them, the spectacle of Baltar's trial: whether they were relieved or outraged at its conclusion, is over. They just escaped a huge Cylon attack. They're on their way again. As much as it's ever normal in a fleet of refugees, things are getting back to normal. And so stuff happens like changing jobs and goodbye parties and hugs.
It's interesting because - while imploding may not be the right word - Lee is one of the people who have suddenly realised that the rules don't have to apply. You can move sideways.
It's most obvious in Kara. Her desperation leads her to extraordinary lengths because for the first time in her life she has a cause, and Kara Thrace with a conviction beyond her twin beliefs that she's a frak-up and that her sole purpose for existing is to kick ass in a Viper is something terrible to behold.
Damn, Katee Sackhoff can act. I always knew she was good, but she committed to that hysterical tantrum like hell and I respect her for it. I also respect the writers and directors for writing and directing it because we don't often see that kind of emotion on TV or in film. We see wailing. We see angry yelling. We sometimes come close to seeing this when the character is intended to be literally insane or dangerous (and I don't think that we're supposed to believe that of Kara: we can believe she represents a trick, but I think as an audience, we're supposed to believe she's sincere and is as sane as Roslin was when she sent Kara after the Arrow of Apollo).
I think it's because adults aren't supposed to throw temper tantrums like kids. We like to pretend it doesn't happen unless we're experiencing breakdowns (when it's trendier and angstier to show characters wailing, weeping or near-catatonic). When adults throw temper tantrums they yell spiteful things and throw crockery. And sometimes they start crying "hysterically" and some kindly person intervenes and holds their arms still until their crying turns quieter and angstier and safer.
So yeah. Wow. It's not that the situations I describe above are unrealistic, it's just that this one is too, and maybe it's braver? This is how kids bug out; we only don't do it as adults because we get taught not to, we get taught to pretend it's not how we want to behave sometimes. But we do anyway. And dammit, Kara's six years old, and has been for a long time, and has been much more obviously since the start of season three, and her time away did nothing but strip her to the bare bones of who she is.
Kara's realised the rules don't have to apply. Not the military regs or the social structures she always disdained. I mean her own rules. The aggressive attitude she adopted in season three because that's how she kept it together. The way she took out her anger on people who didn't deserve it and looked for the people she loved to do the same to her. The iron grip on her mind that told her: she was saturnine, not joyful, angry not free.
Kara comes back joyful, more joyful than even the earliest days of season one. Kara comes back free. Kara comes back unbeholden to anything except the first true cause she's ever known. Kara comes back able to express herself with a purity and intensity that terrifies everyone else in the room and makes them glad there are armoured marines pinning her to the floor.
Freedom is terrifying and Kara has learned to move sideways.
Which brings us to the Kara-Adama scene. I loved Adama in this. Not because I agreed with what he was saying, but simply because I believed he would say it, and I didn't feel the show was asking me to believe he was wonderfully noble or wise, just that he was raging angry because Kara had just screwed up his chance at protecting her.
In all of this, Adama hasn't changed. Adama is still moving in a straight line, trying to control everything the way he used to, confounded by the way everyone around him is behaving. It's odd, but characterised this way, I find his inability to connect or be understanding much less irritating. I guess because I feel the show's casting him in a light that makes me feel my interpretation is more valid? Or because it's simply succeeded at that gold standard for fiction: achieving transparency of authorial intention, where is just doesn't matter.
But back to why his beating the crap out of his fake daughter didn't bother me this time any where near as much as it did back in the early days of season three. It's because this time it wasn't cast as something healthy, or "good for you". This time it was a violent reaction to Starbuck actually standing up for herself. Whether it's for a good reason or not is irrelevant at this point. I don't think Kara's actually ever done that before. The closest she came was reacting to his betrayal by following orders from Roslin. A sort of high school sneaking-out-to-piss-off-the-parents attitude. At no other point has she ever actually said to him: this is what you are doing. You are an equal part in equation of this conversation. I can yell at you too.
And Starbuck moves sideways and Adama doesn't know how to handle it so he throws her to the floor. Huh.
And Lee leaves, and Adama doesn't know how to handle it, but at least there's military precedent for this, so he hugs his son, and I'm grateful to him for arranging such a display of honour and respect for his going-away, and then he probably goes and gets drunk in his cabin.
Because Lee's learned to move sideways too. Lee's remembered who he used to be in the earliest days of season one, too. When he moved sideways and gave a ship to a terrorist and defended his position. Lee is moving away from traditional definitions of enemy and ally and right and wrong, and is going to use his own damn judgement, and use it rigorously and morally and instinctively. Lee got in a Viper without his rank insignia and escorted Starbuck home, and while everyone else was terrified, the only two men who just didn't care were Sam (because at that point, her being a Cylon would be almost a relief to him) and Lee, who barelled into her like a homesick kid. Who believes her and loves her and probably considers those facts entirely exclusive of any ultimate decision on the course of the Fleet.
I am not a Lee/Kara shipper. I don't think Lee or Kara are Lee/Kara shippers. But they love each other desperately and passionately.
Their kiss was lovely, because it achieved something rare in television: I really didn't give a crap whether it was romantic or Romantic. It was like Kara's tantrum. An emotion so deep its inarticulable and can only be adequately expressed in extreme gestures.
It's now, when they're on such completely opposite sides of the metaphysical universe, that they are free to simply be who they are. To be close as twins. Kara is isolated from the real, political world Lee is about to enter, and Lee is isolated from all the military and religious decisions that hang over Kara's head, and in that state, they can look at each other and the context doesn't matter. There's just that other person who they love, adrift, asking for reassurance. It's beautiful.
But I still don't ship them.
Roslin's moving sideways too. I have trouble expressing this one, but I was blown away by her freedom too. Last time she was dying, it drove her to quietly resolve to make terrible decisions because no one else could afford to. But she did it with such solemnity, this odd juxtaposition of soft reluctance that reminded us she was afraid of the decisions she made, and the practical steel she always had in her bones that slowly became a cold exterior. I remember the exquisitely complicated look on her face as she gave benedictions to the prisoners. I remember the fear in her eyes as she refused the gun Lee offered her during the Cylon invasion of Galactica.
It's the same damn fear she has the whole time Starbuck is aiming a gun at her. And wow am I pleased that they played it that way. Laura reinvents hardcore here, as she's frequently prone to do, but it's all the better because she's not calm and collected, she's quietly and softly terrified.
And then she picks up a gun and tries to shoot Kara in the head and OH MY GOD THAT WAS INCREDIBLE.
(Also, because I'm not sure where else I'd fit this in: how much do I love Starbuck bringing up Laura's visions? Very much. Very, very much. This is the good stuff like we used to get in season one and get sparsely throughout the series. The stuff that you think before an episode would never actually make it into a script. It's too much the sort of things fans debate and get glossed over and then there they are discussing it on screen.)
What happened to Laura to make her pull the trigger and willing to do it again?
I can't parse it except to say: freedom. Sideways. What if I don't have to pay attention to the rules anymore?
She's running out of time, like she was last time, but this time, there's no hesitancy. She's been here before. She knows this terrain well enough to smile as her world shatters and she starts crying.
And the most awesome part is: this freedom from the rules, I'm not sure it equates to the buttoned-up hardcore totalitarianism that was her hallmark in so much of the season. Like Kara, who demonstrates and emotional freedom that encompasses both pure joy and pure hysteria, that includes being willing to take the President hostage and throw her life in front of a bullet, Laura's behaviour here is...more complicated than "I will airlock you if you're in my way."
Because that wouldn't be surprising. I was wondering if the scriptwriters could surprise me with Laura any more. Because - while my love for her has never waned - I figured that they still figured that having her make some shocking, civil rights violating decision was as surprsing and deep now as it was back in Flesh and Bone. But no, Laura surprises me here.
And actually a lot of that has to do with her conversation with Adama. Something in her tone - and I admit, I am not an objective fan, so perhaps I'm imagining things? - especially her friendly, caring, but abrupt demand that he sit the hell down and tell her what's wrong, betray a woman who's tired of the pattern and who wants to cut through the bullshit. And the rules.
Again, not the rules of liberty and civil rights - as I said above, those are already butter to her. It'd be like saying Starbuck discovered she could break the military regs. Like Starbuck I mean her personal patterns of behaviour. After she stopped dying, I don't think she really knew who she was meant to be. So we saw her a few times, making scary decisions, or being aloof, or trying to rig elections. We skipped over the true awesomeness of the resistance on New Caprica. We got her back in the air, back on Colonial One, back trying to balance a deep committment to making sure everyone survives with the fact that she had to stop labour strikes and deal with deciding to genocide her enemies. The only time she broke out of that rather staid and undynamic pattern was the flashbacks to New Caprica. And now here.
There have been some interesting comparisons to the Roslin-Adama scene to it seeming like they're married. It does. I don't think this bodes well though, because as asta77 notes, their 'marriage' reminds her of Adama's actual marriage and I concur. And I think Roslin does too. Well, obviously she doesn't since she doesn't really know much about that, but what I mean is, Adama's wandering around oblivious to the pattern he's falling into, as usual. Still walking in a straight line. But Roslin smiles as he tries to viper back at her, smiles even as he succeeds and cuts her (because she knows it's true and has more self-awareness than he ever will). Roslin sees the pattern, this dysfunctional marriage and calls him out on what it is, and how much he'll be upset when she dies, and isn't surprised, is just quietly rueful, when he reacts violently. Not physically this time, but violently nonetheless.
You know, I think Adama can only be introspective and self-aware when he has space. When everything is under his control, or when he doesn't care any more. When he feels there are Things which are His Responsibility, he loses that clarity. He's the same man who made the insightful speech in the mini series. He's the same guy who made some stunning points to Roslin in the early parts of season one. But unlike everyone else in this episode, he's not retrieving those old behaviour traits and realising that there's nothing to say I can't still be that person.
He's still on a straight track, and doesn't understand how to deal with the fact that Laura Roslin woke up one morning and decided to head off sideways.
I feel deeply lonely for Laura though. Because no one else is following her path. Unlike Kara and Lee, there's no one who sees her and reacts with unadulterated joy simply because she exists. And everyone should have someone like that.
Also: NOOOO! NOT THE HAIR! NOT THE BEAUTIFUL HAIR!
Can I compare Laura to the new brown-haired Six model? She's called Natalie, right? I love her.
She just decided to hell with the rules too. It's awesome because emotionally and even logically I'm on her side. But she did just foment open revolution and decide, unilaterally, to hell with her system of government. Violence is different in Cylon society because it's not as permanent (though I'm not sure she'll be letting those models wake up any time soon), but still. She caused bloody revolution and started something that she has no hope in hell fo controlling. And now it's not just the Centurions that are free, it's her too. The look on her face as she surveyed the wreckage she caused is awesome because she's realising: wow, freedom is scary shit. But she doesn't regret it, either.
Natalie and Laura, deciding to shoot people because there's not a reason in the world not to. Because they're free, and the safety of their charges depend on them claiming that freedom.
Other issues in this episode:
The Lee/Dee thing was weird. I get that they want to say, "Okay, this wasn't a great idea, I treated you like crap and you thought I was someone I wasn't," and I probably wouldn't want to lose any scene that was in this episode in order to have a scene where Lee and Dee actually decide that they ought to permanently split. But still... I'm left feeling uncomfortable about this. I might have liked the scene if it had come off the back of a scene where they actually spoke and there were apologies. But it didn't. And in some ways I felt that Lee was trying to be light, joking about the house, while Dee still seemed...very sad, if resolved. Perhaps it's just the inevitable end of an A-list and C-list character relationship. Because it's clear from a story perspective that the C-lister is being jilted while the A-lister will continue to get a lot of screen time, it rubs off on my perception of the actual break-up? I dunno. I didn't hate it, and I think the whole relationship was poorly handled and I have to do a lot of thinking around it to make it make sense to me, so a reasonably respectful and quick end to it is probably the best choice right now, but...yeah. It was weird and I don't think I liked it either.
I continue to be freaked out by the gender politics of Baltar's freaky cult. And by Tigh's suggestion that Tory whore herself out to Baltar. I want to think that there'll be some commentary on the fact that Baltar's followers seem to be exclusively women and some background androgynous men. I do believe there may be some intentional commentary on Tigh's sudden willingness to view Tory's person as an asset: almost as a machine.
I'm torn on this issue because on the one hand, I instinctively don't like it because I find it creepy. Because I don't want Tory to be seduced by some skeezy git pedaling a self-glorifying religious message and to be converted by the magical power of his penis.
I really hope that Tory was crying because she was sleeping with Gaius frakking Baltar and it's only her first week as a cylon and where the hell else is this going to lead and she's so far out of her damn depth. Not because it's just "something she always does during sex". In this context that's...just icky.
On the other hand, I can understand Tory's actions in light of my tenuous and probably deeply fanon oriented view of her character. Here's someone telling her that what she is, isn't bad. After everything that's happened, that's got to be appealing. Especially considering the way one of her "own" - Tigh - just treated her. Tory's not in the military; she can't compound her identity as 'human' by being part of the cylon-killing machine. Even on New Caprica she was an administrator. Motivated more by a belief in Roslin than a hatred of the Cylon. (Not to say she didn't care, but you get the people who care about surviving and the people who care about getting revenge).
Tory always struck me as driven. Her identity was very externally constructed. No great personal life: belief in doing a damn good job for Roslin, or at whatever her chosen task was. Her internal identity; who she was away from work, was probably always fragile and hollow because it never got any attention. Suddenly she's having to look at herself, away from all those external factors she used to use as crutches to her identity, and she's left with...not a lot. Which considering her very right to an identity is now under siege is probably pretty terrifying.
Tigh has to believe in who he is and what he did, because if he doesn't, he murdered his wife and he might murder his best friend: it was all for nothing.
Tyrol has a wife and kid and has also faced this notion before. Tyrol has a life history and ties to the corporeal world as a community leader, for lack of a better term. He's loved by a lot of people and knows it. At least that can serve as a distraction.
Anders too, has a vibrant personal past and loves his wife.
Tory is a cypher. At least as far as we're aware. And all her external ties are so deeply intertwined with Roslin, they're unlikely to be a comfort or distraction as far as cylonicity goes.
In some ways, I suppose I could argue that Tory is free too. Suddenly she has no identity, and she has to scrabble to construct one or loose her right to it. Freedom is terrifying.
Baltar is saying to her, it's all right to be who you are and to hell with the rules.
So yeah. Tory fits in nicely with this week's themes. I just kinda wish I didn't have to watch her having icky sex with Baltar.
And...that's it. That episode was awesome. The end. :)
So, I give you: the episode in which everyone except Adama learns that you can wake up one day and decide, "to hell with the rules."
The Lee scenes were quiet, almost normal, happy, respectful, calm by comparison. It's easy to think that they are out of place amidst the screaming, the identity crises, the slow death by chemo versus the slow death by cancer, the violence, the sexual exploitation. Then I figure, no, the number of people in the Fleet who are imploding is small. For most of them, the spectacle of Baltar's trial: whether they were relieved or outraged at its conclusion, is over. They just escaped a huge Cylon attack. They're on their way again. As much as it's ever normal in a fleet of refugees, things are getting back to normal. And so stuff happens like changing jobs and goodbye parties and hugs.
It's interesting because - while imploding may not be the right word - Lee is one of the people who have suddenly realised that the rules don't have to apply. You can move sideways.
It's most obvious in Kara. Her desperation leads her to extraordinary lengths because for the first time in her life she has a cause, and Kara Thrace with a conviction beyond her twin beliefs that she's a frak-up and that her sole purpose for existing is to kick ass in a Viper is something terrible to behold.
Damn, Katee Sackhoff can act. I always knew she was good, but she committed to that hysterical tantrum like hell and I respect her for it. I also respect the writers and directors for writing and directing it because we don't often see that kind of emotion on TV or in film. We see wailing. We see angry yelling. We sometimes come close to seeing this when the character is intended to be literally insane or dangerous (and I don't think that we're supposed to believe that of Kara: we can believe she represents a trick, but I think as an audience, we're supposed to believe she's sincere and is as sane as Roslin was when she sent Kara after the Arrow of Apollo).
I think it's because adults aren't supposed to throw temper tantrums like kids. We like to pretend it doesn't happen unless we're experiencing breakdowns (when it's trendier and angstier to show characters wailing, weeping or near-catatonic). When adults throw temper tantrums they yell spiteful things and throw crockery. And sometimes they start crying "hysterically" and some kindly person intervenes and holds their arms still until their crying turns quieter and angstier and safer.
So yeah. Wow. It's not that the situations I describe above are unrealistic, it's just that this one is too, and maybe it's braver? This is how kids bug out; we only don't do it as adults because we get taught not to, we get taught to pretend it's not how we want to behave sometimes. But we do anyway. And dammit, Kara's six years old, and has been for a long time, and has been much more obviously since the start of season three, and her time away did nothing but strip her to the bare bones of who she is.
Kara's realised the rules don't have to apply. Not the military regs or the social structures she always disdained. I mean her own rules. The aggressive attitude she adopted in season three because that's how she kept it together. The way she took out her anger on people who didn't deserve it and looked for the people she loved to do the same to her. The iron grip on her mind that told her: she was saturnine, not joyful, angry not free.
Kara comes back joyful, more joyful than even the earliest days of season one. Kara comes back free. Kara comes back unbeholden to anything except the first true cause she's ever known. Kara comes back able to express herself with a purity and intensity that terrifies everyone else in the room and makes them glad there are armoured marines pinning her to the floor.
Freedom is terrifying and Kara has learned to move sideways.
Which brings us to the Kara-Adama scene. I loved Adama in this. Not because I agreed with what he was saying, but simply because I believed he would say it, and I didn't feel the show was asking me to believe he was wonderfully noble or wise, just that he was raging angry because Kara had just screwed up his chance at protecting her.
In all of this, Adama hasn't changed. Adama is still moving in a straight line, trying to control everything the way he used to, confounded by the way everyone around him is behaving. It's odd, but characterised this way, I find his inability to connect or be understanding much less irritating. I guess because I feel the show's casting him in a light that makes me feel my interpretation is more valid? Or because it's simply succeeded at that gold standard for fiction: achieving transparency of authorial intention, where is just doesn't matter.
But back to why his beating the crap out of his fake daughter didn't bother me this time any where near as much as it did back in the early days of season three. It's because this time it wasn't cast as something healthy, or "good for you". This time it was a violent reaction to Starbuck actually standing up for herself. Whether it's for a good reason or not is irrelevant at this point. I don't think Kara's actually ever done that before. The closest she came was reacting to his betrayal by following orders from Roslin. A sort of high school sneaking-out-to-piss-off-the-parents attitude. At no other point has she ever actually said to him: this is what you are doing. You are an equal part in equation of this conversation. I can yell at you too.
And Starbuck moves sideways and Adama doesn't know how to handle it so he throws her to the floor. Huh.
And Lee leaves, and Adama doesn't know how to handle it, but at least there's military precedent for this, so he hugs his son, and I'm grateful to him for arranging such a display of honour and respect for his going-away, and then he probably goes and gets drunk in his cabin.
Because Lee's learned to move sideways too. Lee's remembered who he used to be in the earliest days of season one, too. When he moved sideways and gave a ship to a terrorist and defended his position. Lee is moving away from traditional definitions of enemy and ally and right and wrong, and is going to use his own damn judgement, and use it rigorously and morally and instinctively. Lee got in a Viper without his rank insignia and escorted Starbuck home, and while everyone else was terrified, the only two men who just didn't care were Sam (because at that point, her being a Cylon would be almost a relief to him) and Lee, who barelled into her like a homesick kid. Who believes her and loves her and probably considers those facts entirely exclusive of any ultimate decision on the course of the Fleet.
I am not a Lee/Kara shipper. I don't think Lee or Kara are Lee/Kara shippers. But they love each other desperately and passionately.
Their kiss was lovely, because it achieved something rare in television: I really didn't give a crap whether it was romantic or Romantic. It was like Kara's tantrum. An emotion so deep its inarticulable and can only be adequately expressed in extreme gestures.
It's now, when they're on such completely opposite sides of the metaphysical universe, that they are free to simply be who they are. To be close as twins. Kara is isolated from the real, political world Lee is about to enter, and Lee is isolated from all the military and religious decisions that hang over Kara's head, and in that state, they can look at each other and the context doesn't matter. There's just that other person who they love, adrift, asking for reassurance. It's beautiful.
But I still don't ship them.
Roslin's moving sideways too. I have trouble expressing this one, but I was blown away by her freedom too. Last time she was dying, it drove her to quietly resolve to make terrible decisions because no one else could afford to. But she did it with such solemnity, this odd juxtaposition of soft reluctance that reminded us she was afraid of the decisions she made, and the practical steel she always had in her bones that slowly became a cold exterior. I remember the exquisitely complicated look on her face as she gave benedictions to the prisoners. I remember the fear in her eyes as she refused the gun Lee offered her during the Cylon invasion of Galactica.
It's the same damn fear she has the whole time Starbuck is aiming a gun at her. And wow am I pleased that they played it that way. Laura reinvents hardcore here, as she's frequently prone to do, but it's all the better because she's not calm and collected, she's quietly and softly terrified.
And then she picks up a gun and tries to shoot Kara in the head and OH MY GOD THAT WAS INCREDIBLE.
(Also, because I'm not sure where else I'd fit this in: how much do I love Starbuck bringing up Laura's visions? Very much. Very, very much. This is the good stuff like we used to get in season one and get sparsely throughout the series. The stuff that you think before an episode would never actually make it into a script. It's too much the sort of things fans debate and get glossed over and then there they are discussing it on screen.)
What happened to Laura to make her pull the trigger and willing to do it again?
I can't parse it except to say: freedom. Sideways. What if I don't have to pay attention to the rules anymore?
She's running out of time, like she was last time, but this time, there's no hesitancy. She's been here before. She knows this terrain well enough to smile as her world shatters and she starts crying.
And the most awesome part is: this freedom from the rules, I'm not sure it equates to the buttoned-up hardcore totalitarianism that was her hallmark in so much of the season. Like Kara, who demonstrates and emotional freedom that encompasses both pure joy and pure hysteria, that includes being willing to take the President hostage and throw her life in front of a bullet, Laura's behaviour here is...more complicated than "I will airlock you if you're in my way."
Because that wouldn't be surprising. I was wondering if the scriptwriters could surprise me with Laura any more. Because - while my love for her has never waned - I figured that they still figured that having her make some shocking, civil rights violating decision was as surprsing and deep now as it was back in Flesh and Bone. But no, Laura surprises me here.
And actually a lot of that has to do with her conversation with Adama. Something in her tone - and I admit, I am not an objective fan, so perhaps I'm imagining things? - especially her friendly, caring, but abrupt demand that he sit the hell down and tell her what's wrong, betray a woman who's tired of the pattern and who wants to cut through the bullshit. And the rules.
Again, not the rules of liberty and civil rights - as I said above, those are already butter to her. It'd be like saying Starbuck discovered she could break the military regs. Like Starbuck I mean her personal patterns of behaviour. After she stopped dying, I don't think she really knew who she was meant to be. So we saw her a few times, making scary decisions, or being aloof, or trying to rig elections. We skipped over the true awesomeness of the resistance on New Caprica. We got her back in the air, back on Colonial One, back trying to balance a deep committment to making sure everyone survives with the fact that she had to stop labour strikes and deal with deciding to genocide her enemies. The only time she broke out of that rather staid and undynamic pattern was the flashbacks to New Caprica. And now here.
There have been some interesting comparisons to the Roslin-Adama scene to it seeming like they're married. It does. I don't think this bodes well though, because as asta77 notes, their 'marriage' reminds her of Adama's actual marriage and I concur. And I think Roslin does too. Well, obviously she doesn't since she doesn't really know much about that, but what I mean is, Adama's wandering around oblivious to the pattern he's falling into, as usual. Still walking in a straight line. But Roslin smiles as he tries to viper back at her, smiles even as he succeeds and cuts her (because she knows it's true and has more self-awareness than he ever will). Roslin sees the pattern, this dysfunctional marriage and calls him out on what it is, and how much he'll be upset when she dies, and isn't surprised, is just quietly rueful, when he reacts violently. Not physically this time, but violently nonetheless.
You know, I think Adama can only be introspective and self-aware when he has space. When everything is under his control, or when he doesn't care any more. When he feels there are Things which are His Responsibility, he loses that clarity. He's the same man who made the insightful speech in the mini series. He's the same guy who made some stunning points to Roslin in the early parts of season one. But unlike everyone else in this episode, he's not retrieving those old behaviour traits and realising that there's nothing to say I can't still be that person.
He's still on a straight track, and doesn't understand how to deal with the fact that Laura Roslin woke up one morning and decided to head off sideways.
I feel deeply lonely for Laura though. Because no one else is following her path. Unlike Kara and Lee, there's no one who sees her and reacts with unadulterated joy simply because she exists. And everyone should have someone like that.
Also: NOOOO! NOT THE HAIR! NOT THE BEAUTIFUL HAIR!
Can I compare Laura to the new brown-haired Six model? She's called Natalie, right? I love her.
She just decided to hell with the rules too. It's awesome because emotionally and even logically I'm on her side. But she did just foment open revolution and decide, unilaterally, to hell with her system of government. Violence is different in Cylon society because it's not as permanent (though I'm not sure she'll be letting those models wake up any time soon), but still. She caused bloody revolution and started something that she has no hope in hell fo controlling. And now it's not just the Centurions that are free, it's her too. The look on her face as she surveyed the wreckage she caused is awesome because she's realising: wow, freedom is scary shit. But she doesn't regret it, either.
Natalie and Laura, deciding to shoot people because there's not a reason in the world not to. Because they're free, and the safety of their charges depend on them claiming that freedom.
Other issues in this episode:
The Lee/Dee thing was weird. I get that they want to say, "Okay, this wasn't a great idea, I treated you like crap and you thought I was someone I wasn't," and I probably wouldn't want to lose any scene that was in this episode in order to have a scene where Lee and Dee actually decide that they ought to permanently split. But still... I'm left feeling uncomfortable about this. I might have liked the scene if it had come off the back of a scene where they actually spoke and there were apologies. But it didn't. And in some ways I felt that Lee was trying to be light, joking about the house, while Dee still seemed...very sad, if resolved. Perhaps it's just the inevitable end of an A-list and C-list character relationship. Because it's clear from a story perspective that the C-lister is being jilted while the A-lister will continue to get a lot of screen time, it rubs off on my perception of the actual break-up? I dunno. I didn't hate it, and I think the whole relationship was poorly handled and I have to do a lot of thinking around it to make it make sense to me, so a reasonably respectful and quick end to it is probably the best choice right now, but...yeah. It was weird and I don't think I liked it either.
I continue to be freaked out by the gender politics of Baltar's freaky cult. And by Tigh's suggestion that Tory whore herself out to Baltar. I want to think that there'll be some commentary on the fact that Baltar's followers seem to be exclusively women and some background androgynous men. I do believe there may be some intentional commentary on Tigh's sudden willingness to view Tory's person as an asset: almost as a machine.
I'm torn on this issue because on the one hand, I instinctively don't like it because I find it creepy. Because I don't want Tory to be seduced by some skeezy git pedaling a self-glorifying religious message and to be converted by the magical power of his penis.
I really hope that Tory was crying because she was sleeping with Gaius frakking Baltar and it's only her first week as a cylon and where the hell else is this going to lead and she's so far out of her damn depth. Not because it's just "something she always does during sex". In this context that's...just icky.
On the other hand, I can understand Tory's actions in light of my tenuous and probably deeply fanon oriented view of her character. Here's someone telling her that what she is, isn't bad. After everything that's happened, that's got to be appealing. Especially considering the way one of her "own" - Tigh - just treated her. Tory's not in the military; she can't compound her identity as 'human' by being part of the cylon-killing machine. Even on New Caprica she was an administrator. Motivated more by a belief in Roslin than a hatred of the Cylon. (Not to say she didn't care, but you get the people who care about surviving and the people who care about getting revenge).
Tory always struck me as driven. Her identity was very externally constructed. No great personal life: belief in doing a damn good job for Roslin, or at whatever her chosen task was. Her internal identity; who she was away from work, was probably always fragile and hollow because it never got any attention. Suddenly she's having to look at herself, away from all those external factors she used to use as crutches to her identity, and she's left with...not a lot. Which considering her very right to an identity is now under siege is probably pretty terrifying.
Tigh has to believe in who he is and what he did, because if he doesn't, he murdered his wife and he might murder his best friend: it was all for nothing.
Tyrol has a wife and kid and has also faced this notion before. Tyrol has a life history and ties to the corporeal world as a community leader, for lack of a better term. He's loved by a lot of people and knows it. At least that can serve as a distraction.
Anders too, has a vibrant personal past and loves his wife.
Tory is a cypher. At least as far as we're aware. And all her external ties are so deeply intertwined with Roslin, they're unlikely to be a comfort or distraction as far as cylonicity goes.
In some ways, I suppose I could argue that Tory is free too. Suddenly she has no identity, and she has to scrabble to construct one or loose her right to it. Freedom is terrifying.
Baltar is saying to her, it's all right to be who you are and to hell with the rules.
So yeah. Tory fits in nicely with this week's themes. I just kinda wish I didn't have to watch her having icky sex with Baltar.
And...that's it. That episode was awesome. The end. :)