Spoiled
Are we all tired of talking, reading, thinking, and dreaming of the Battlestar Galactica finale yet?
Definitely.
For myself (and on behalf of the mer-people, who, sadly, do not have blogs), I have to say that I loved it ... sort of ... I think ... or maybe not. Actually, one of the things I like best about the finale is that I'm having so much trouble putting a label to how I feel about it. It would seem highly inappropriate to end a show that relied so heavily on the confounding of audience expectations with an episode that didn't elicit at least a little ambivalence.
What I find more interesting than the episode itself, however, are the varied responses people seem to be having. I'm reminded (and I'm sure I'm not the only one) of the response to the finale of The Sopranos, which I loved unequivocally, although I'm pretty sure I'm in the minority. In both cases, I'm surprised by the expectations others seem to have had for these shows. Certainly, if a show like Lost were to end with as much ambiguity as either Battlestar or The Sopranos, I'd be in total agreement with anyone who wanted to throw the creators to the lions (or in the case of Lost, to the polar bears), but Lost has always been a show about answers. It's been more than stingy in handing them out, but the answers have always been the point. And while it's tempting to lump The Sopranos (Who's going to get whacked?) and Battlestar (Who's a cylon?) in the same category, I think they're a different animal altogether. People don't call these two of the greatest shows on television because they kept us guessing about the plot; the questions they asked about the show were never as compelling as the questions they asked us about ourselves. It's those questions -- questions about the American dream and our capacity for moral redemption -- questions about where we can live between our need to survive and our desire for civilization -- that made these shows something more than a weekly, hour-long diversion. And the reason those are important questions is because they can never really be answered.
Or, based on the popularity of the whole "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and Dance with the American Idols?" genre, maybe I'm totally wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.
But I don't think I am. So it bothers me when I read someone say that the show sucked because it didn't explain such-and-such, as if the show would somehow have been better if Kara had just said, "Oh, by the way, I'm actually Sam Beckett, and Boxey was my father." Or on the other end of the spectrum, I'm bothered by the people who dismiss it by shoehorning it into some simplistic moral message, specifically, the claim that the ending is somehow supposed to tell us that technology is evil. Throughout the series, technology was both salvation and damnation, but I don't understand how anyone can interpret the show's conclusion as a validation of either position.
I'll stop there, sparing you the point-by-point refutation of "Things People Have Said on the Internet", and just confess that yes, I've come down with yet another episode of someoneiswrongontheinternet-itis. For the sake of clarification, if people didn't like the finale or the show, then so be it. Frankly, I think the people who hated it can make just as strong of a case as those who loved it. I thought Halo's fate was little better than cheap emotional exploitation; the ending was rushed; the unanimous response to Lee's final proposal was uncharacteristic of a fleet that was so willing to argue over every other decision; and, while I thought it was fitting for the show, the whole "God did it" ending seems a little too easy. My problem isn't that people didn't like it; it's that some of the people who disliked it seem to have done so based on a framework of beliefs that I find completely baffling. Really (and this is why I really shouldn't be allowed onto your interwebs), I just don't understand people. That's the point I've spent several hundred words and the last couple days trying (and ultimately failing, I suspect) to make.
Have you ever rewritten something so many times that you're no longer capable of determining whether or not it is internally consistent or even coherent? I can no longer read any of the above without being distracted by the ghosts of points I intended to make, but couldn't find the appropriate transition.
Also, I want someone to edit an episode of The Smurfs so that every use of the word "Smurf" is replaced with "Frak". And I want Gargafrak to cut out Papa Frak's eye. Smurf to it.
Definitely.
For myself (and on behalf of the mer-people, who, sadly, do not have blogs), I have to say that I loved it ... sort of ... I think ... or maybe not. Actually, one of the things I like best about the finale is that I'm having so much trouble putting a label to how I feel about it. It would seem highly inappropriate to end a show that relied so heavily on the confounding of audience expectations with an episode that didn't elicit at least a little ambivalence.
What I find more interesting than the episode itself, however, are the varied responses people seem to be having. I'm reminded (and I'm sure I'm not the only one) of the response to the finale of The Sopranos, which I loved unequivocally, although I'm pretty sure I'm in the minority. In both cases, I'm surprised by the expectations others seem to have had for these shows. Certainly, if a show like Lost were to end with as much ambiguity as either Battlestar or The Sopranos, I'd be in total agreement with anyone who wanted to throw the creators to the lions (or in the case of Lost, to the polar bears), but Lost has always been a show about answers. It's been more than stingy in handing them out, but the answers have always been the point. And while it's tempting to lump The Sopranos (Who's going to get whacked?) and Battlestar (Who's a cylon?) in the same category, I think they're a different animal altogether. People don't call these two of the greatest shows on television because they kept us guessing about the plot; the questions they asked about the show were never as compelling as the questions they asked us about ourselves. It's those questions -- questions about the American dream and our capacity for moral redemption -- questions about where we can live between our need to survive and our desire for civilization -- that made these shows something more than a weekly, hour-long diversion. And the reason those are important questions is because they can never really be answered.
Or, based on the popularity of the whole "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and Dance with the American Idols?" genre, maybe I'm totally wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.
But I don't think I am. So it bothers me when I read someone say that the show sucked because it didn't explain such-and-such, as if the show would somehow have been better if Kara had just said, "Oh, by the way, I'm actually Sam Beckett, and Boxey was my father." Or on the other end of the spectrum, I'm bothered by the people who dismiss it by shoehorning it into some simplistic moral message, specifically, the claim that the ending is somehow supposed to tell us that technology is evil. Throughout the series, technology was both salvation and damnation, but I don't understand how anyone can interpret the show's conclusion as a validation of either position.
I'll stop there, sparing you the point-by-point refutation of "Things People Have Said on the Internet", and just confess that yes, I've come down with yet another episode of someoneiswrongontheinternet-itis. For the sake of clarification, if people didn't like the finale or the show, then so be it. Frankly, I think the people who hated it can make just as strong of a case as those who loved it. I thought Halo's fate was little better than cheap emotional exploitation; the ending was rushed; the unanimous response to Lee's final proposal was uncharacteristic of a fleet that was so willing to argue over every other decision; and, while I thought it was fitting for the show, the whole "God did it" ending seems a little too easy. My problem isn't that people didn't like it; it's that some of the people who disliked it seem to have done so based on a framework of beliefs that I find completely baffling. Really (and this is why I really shouldn't be allowed onto your interwebs), I just don't understand people. That's the point I've spent several hundred words and the last couple days trying (and ultimately failing, I suspect) to make.
Have you ever rewritten something so many times that you're no longer capable of determining whether or not it is internally consistent or even coherent? I can no longer read any of the above without being distracted by the ghosts of points I intended to make, but couldn't find the appropriate transition.
Also, I want someone to edit an episode of The Smurfs so that every use of the word "Smurf" is replaced with "Frak". And I want Gargafrak to cut out Papa Frak's eye. Smurf to it.