We watched the final episode of Battlestar Galactica last night, and I’m pissed off. (This was the last of the sci-fi series that we had missed on TV, so we were renting it season by season.)
The seasons up until the last one were wonderful – well-written, mysterious, intricate plotlines that I was expecting to finally tie up into a neat package, and quirky characters with depth and personality. But what the hell happened in the fifth season? I want my money back. (I’ll cut this for anyone who for some odd reason hasn’t watched it all the way through.)
So all of the prophecies and so on were just…what, a mistake? The scriptwriter decided “hey, they were crap, let’s forget about them”?
Starbuck is what, an angel? Jesus Christ.
What the hell was the deal with the Six and the Balthar figure that no one else could see? What were they? God and the Devil? I mean really – what the hell?
So, with humanity winnowed down to an extremely small genepool, everyone decides to all fuck off into the various corners of the world, further narrowing their choices? What about all the needed skills, doctors and so on – how did that work? Wouldn’t you pick a rich, temperate area where everyone could settle where they could scatter into small communities, but still be within travelling distance of each other?
I could kind of understand the starting-without-technology thing, but surely you’d want the metal from the ships, if nothing else? The manufacturing capabilities? The medical technology? But no, it makes sense to send all your resources into the fucking sun, what a grand gesture. Hey, sorry about your kid who needs an MRI, guess she’s out of luck, but hey, we’re all starting fresh.
Fie. Fie on you, I say….Battlestar Galactica, you do indeed vex me greatly.