'Battlestar Galactica': 'Islanded in a Stream of Stars'

'Battlestar Galactica': 'Islanded in a Stream of Stars'

The post below discusses "Islanded in a Stream of Stars," Friday's episode of "Battlestar Galactica."

I will post an interview with Michael Taylor, who wrote the episode, but not until Monday. What's below are my thoughts on the episode.

There's more info on this site about "Battlestar Galactica":

Look here for an interview with Bradley Thompson and David Weddle regarding "Someone to Watch Over Me," the Feb. 27 episode of "Battlestar Galactica.""Battlestar" fans should be sure to keep an eye on "CSI." At leasttwo people associated with the Sci Fi show will make appearances in anupcoming episode of the CBS drama. For more on that, look here. Look here for an interview with Jane Espenson regarding "Deadlock," the Feb. 20 episode of "Battlestar Galactica." Look here for an interview with Ryan Mottesheard and Espenson regarding "No Exit," the Feb. 13 episode.  Look herefor an interview with Michael Angeli, the writer of "Blood on theScales," the Feb. 6 episode. Look here for an interview with Mark Verheiden, the writer of "The Oath," the Jan. 30 episode. 
Look herefor an interview with executive producer Ronald D. Moore, who wrote anddirected "A Disquiet Follows My Soul," which aired Jan. 23.  Look here for interviews with Moore and with the writers and the director of "Sometimes a Great Notion," which aired Jan. 16. Look here for a recent interview with actor Tahmoh Penikett, who plays Helo on "Battlestar."

OK, on to some thoughts on "Islanded."

Damn you, Michael Taylor. Damn you to hell.

Why such strong language? Because Taylor wrote "Unfinished Business," one of my favorite episodes of "Battlestar Galactica."

And with "Islanded in a Stream of Stars," I began to think (at first) that he was giving us the inverse of that emotionally powerful episode. And because I'm in deep denial, I'd rather think about the Adama and Roslin we saw in "UB." I'd rather not think about the things Adama and Roslin were coming to terms with in this episode. The truth hurts.

"Unfinished Business" was one of the rare "BSG" episodes to give us glimpses of things we don't often see on this show -- hope, possibilities, new beginnings, uncomplicated joy and simple contentment. On New Caprica, the people of the fleet told themselves that things were going to be better, and for once they got a chance to actually believe that.

"Islanded," however, felt like an elegiac farewell -- to Galactica herself, to Laura Roslin, to the very idea of new possibilities. It felt like the beginning of the end of everything -- as indeed, it is. Next week brings the first hour of the show's three-hour finale.

I fear that finale. I fear it. The main reason is this: I am sure we'll see more scenes like the "Islanded" hospital scene between Adama and Roslin. And I'm not sure I'll be able to frakkin' take it.

It was the emotional heart of "Islanded." And it was a beautiful callback to "UB." We had the lovely image of Roslin and Adama, once again pulling out the wacky tobacky and enjoying the easy intimacy that they share.

After the March 20 finale, we won't see Roslin and Adama any more. And we won't see Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos working together any more. I can't wrap my head around that.

With one simple sentence, McDonnell, as Roslin, began the process of shredding my heart, a process that I'm sure will continue in the next episodes.

"I don't think I've ever felt truly at home, until these last few months here with you," she said.

Observe the work. Observe the frakkin' work for a moment. Talk about range: Remember when she said, in "Blood on the Scales," "I'm coming for all of you!" Her forcefulness in that scene still raises the hair on the back of my neck.

In "Islanded," however, she played the hospital scene with warmth, but it was clear-eyed and rational warmth. It was restrained without being cold. There was no overt pulling of heartstrings or working of our tear ducts. And that's what was so powerful. Roslin has accepted everything -- that she'll die, that she'll lose Adama, that she'll lose this last, completely unexpected happiness she's had with Adama.

And she's OK with that. The final gift she can give Adama is to help him be OK with it too. He won't be, they both know that. But she's being the strong one. She's going to get him to accept what's really happening.

And that's what the gracefully mournful "Islanded" is really about, in my view -- acceptance. The characters have worked their way through the stages of grief, and this had to happen. They had to just accept what's in front of them. Circumstances are so dire -- listen to that terrible, terrible creaking -- that honesty is the only possible policy.

But is it too late?

Gaius Baltar finally realized how much he truly loves Caprica Six. But it's too late.

Starbuck has realized that she loves Sam and always has. Is it too late?

She's also accepted that, to put it one way, she's the inverse of Harry Potter. He's the "boy who lived," she's the woman who died. She pretends she didn't want the fleet to know that, but of course she did.

Boomer has accepted that Hera is a living being and should not be regarded as a mere pawn in Cavil's sick game. She's realized that that's all she's ever been to him -- an errand girl. But is it too late? How can Boomer possibly redeem the things she's done? 

Finally, Adama accepts that there is a hole in the bucket, a lot of holes, in fact. The Galactica is gone, for all intents and purposes.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought that "Islanded" isn't the inverse of "UB." Sure, there was a lot of hope on New Caprica, but there were also a lot of lies. Starbuck covered up her feelings for Lee and Lee did the same with his feelings for her, and he ran off and proposed to Dee.

All that's in the past now. Which is why we needed that scene of Starbuck and Lee in the corridor. They're more than friends, they're not lovers, they're just  -- what they are to each other, which is undefined and deep. And they both accept that.

Boomer still likes to escape reality in her dream house, and Laura still likes to daydream about her cabin near a stream. But in the end, all these projections fell away, and the characters ended up embracing what really mattered.

Stuff doesn't matter. The death of a valiant hunk of metal can be sad, but it doesn't matter. People matter. Relationships are where we live and die. They're our real "home."

Here's a quote from something I wrote about "Revelations," the episode in which they found Earth:

Finding Earth was never going to be their salvation. Their true salvation lies in discovering, through blood and toil and pain and sacrifice, “the better angels of [their] nature,” to quote Lincoln. Salvation lies in the love they can share with each other, despite what the universe throws at them.

William Adama and Laura Roslin have already found their redemption, their salvation, their final home â€" whatever you want to call it. That didn’t happen when they found Earth, it happened when they embraced at the end of “The Hub.”

The one having a problem with acceptance is me, because I don't want this journey to end.

A few more stray thoughts about this episode:

I wondered at the assertion that the Galactica had maybe five more jumps in her. It seemed like she was about to come apart at the seams any minute. I would have thought she had zero more jumps in her. I greatly enjoyed hearing more from "Searider Falcon," the book that both Adama and Roslin regard as a classic. Taylor also wrote "Sine Qua Non," in which we heard another excerpt from the book. I wonder what novelists were his inspiration for the noir-ish tome,  and if he'll ever actually write more "Searider Falcon" for us. I wondered what Adama meant when he told Tigh that they would send the Galactica off "in style." I didn't really understand why Kara Thrace trusted Baltar with her secret, but then, I suppose some part of her wanted the truth known about her "death" on Earth, and Baltar can generally be counted on for a betrayal. I thought Tahmoh Penikett did a wonderful job in his scene with Adama. Helo's often the most measured, voice in the room. So to see him so distraught was a suitably jarring change. Of course the thought obsessing him was getting his daughter back, but some small part of his franticness had to be about redeeming himself in Athena's eyes after his unwitting betrayal of her with the duplicitous Boomer. I thought I saw "BSG" writer Michael Angeli in the hangar scene, but perhaps I was projecting. The final shot of Adama and Tigh on their grand old ship was such an appropriate way to end the episode. That shot certainly felt like a farewell. After March 20, I won't see Olmos (who directed the episode) and Michael Hogan in scenes as Adama and Tigh any more. I need a drink.

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