This is about Battlestar Galactica so if you have no interest in the show, stop reading. If you have interest in the show but haven’t watched it all the way through, stop reading. If I don’t like you, stop reading. If you have no interest in the show and don’t care if I ruin it, but also strangely want to read my opinions on something I should have finished watching last year, you may carry on reading. If you have interest in and have watched all of the show, you may carry on reading. This probably means about one of the usual 30 will continue to read this. I’m going to avoid spoilers as much as possible solely because I know Anna will read this and she’s a lunatic who wants to know how things end before she’s even started them (and I will make you watch Battlestar one day, woman).
Right. I finished the final season of Battlestar Galactica today. I’ve got the familiar feeling that comes when you reach the end of a series you really did like quite a lot, and this is exacerbated by the fact that thinking ‘when did I watch that series?’ is usually answered with a different year, when I lived in a different city. I’ve been watching this show for about half a decade. It’s ridiculous.
On one hand, I love it. On the other: the ending. Jesus. Almost literally. What were they thinking? Or not, for that matter. It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever seen, it was just such a ridiculous jump to accept that after all that – the mini-series, four real series, the Razor special – it finished with some bona-fide deus ex machina. Dozens of hours of my life, some wonderful characters and some of the best, most entertaining television I’ve seen is sent off with a half-baked catch-all explanation. Is that the best they could do? Come on. A programme that examined what drives someone to carry out suicide bombings – to the point that you not only sympathised with, but supported these means – can’t even finish on something better than some contrived nonsense?
I don’t hate the ending – I never could, as Battlestar is such a good series overall. But they were really pushing their luck with that sudden splatter of daftness all over my screen. Poor show, kids.
Right, got to find a new series to watch now.
(next week I’ll be coming up with more blog-based internet-opinions on other things that nobody has been talking about for a year. Well contemporary, me.)
(also, I seem to have put my head on Colonel Tigh without thinking about it. Read into that what you will)