Battlestar Galactica 1978 vs BSG 2003 smackdown: Part II

No pretentiousness here, no sir... Right, Judas?

Ronald D. Moore rebooted BSG in 2003 with a kick-ass pilot movie in two parts. They had some severe budget constraints, and couldn’t afford to even build robot cylon suits. Instead, they had to resort to CGI and using the robots sparingly. Instead, the Cylons were human androids. And rather than being the product of alien reptiles who run pizza parlour pedophilia rings, they were the rebellious product of humanity. 

The betrayal happens, same as before, except this time Baltar’s a computer programmer who undermines the Twelve Colonies defenses by accidentally introducing a virus into the defense systems. It shuts down all their advanced systems. Only the venerable old Battlestar Galactica has old fashioned manual controls, to avoid this exact scenario. It survives the initial Cylon attack, and again leads a rag tag fleet towards… Earth.

This time, Adama throws Earth out as a destination as a trope to inspire hope among the survivors, who are on the brink of despair. 

Moore once worked on an American aircraft carrier, and it shows here in the verisimilitude he conjures with all the military aspects of the show. They also try to portray space in a far more realistic manner than the original iteration, and even explored having no sound in space. Ultimately, they backed off that decision as it robbed scenes of impact, but they did emphasize logistics more than in the original program. 

Infamously, they presented every episode with the tag line, ‘and they have a plan.’ The Cylons, that is. It’s come out since that they didn’t, but David Eicke (co-creator) insisted on it. By the end of the show it was abundantly clear this was a load of horseshit. 

BSG’s first season was intense, gritty, politically nuanced, and a paradigm shifting sci-fi phenomenon. It tackled the War on Terror and other timely issues.

One episode, in which the human survivors tortured a Cylon ('Flesh and Bone'), was described by the show creators as something that will make who question who the good guys are. Seriously? The Cylons just wiped out over 12 billion or so people, and the traumatized survivors torture a Cylon infiltrator, and this is supposed to make them equivalent? I found this truly obnoxious; yes, torture is wrong, but let’s have a little perspective. Did some Holocaust survivors torture some camp guards after liberation? It’s possible, if they had the strength after being deliberately starved, but I don’t think that makes them the equivalent of the Nazis.

This was emblematic of the moral equivalence that lurked behind the show’s flashy sci-fi facade: one mustn’t judge, even in the face of genocidal enemies. It was diametrically opposed to the original show’s binary perspective. 

And yet, Moore and Eicke’s perspective has merit, in that, in politics, it’s all about compromise. There are always those who disagree and object, and you have to bring everyone (or almost everyone) along to move forward. Over the shows multiple seasons, politics were presented as a complex series of negotiations and compromises. And when one group pushed to far, another would rise in rebellion.

The 2003 Battlestar Galactica had a sleeker, more streamlined look than the original

The show was very much a repudiation of the restrictive narrative framework that Moore experienced writing for Star Trek: The Next Generation. Rather than feel good stories of future Utopia, here the hard realities of power politics, resource limits, and suffering were explored without limit. Instead of paragons of professionalism and virtue, the characters were complex, flawed, and deeply human. 

All of that was great. 

Far better than the original, no question.

However, by season 3 Moore had become disenchanted with the original direction and decided to rewrite several characters, turning them into Cylon infiltrators, mostly for shock value. 

I initially hated the change, but then thought, maybe he’ll do something really interesting with it.  

In Moore we trust.

The midseason finale, where they found earth as a burnt out radioactive husk, would have made a fine series finale. 

Unfortunately, they kept going.

Next: The ending

Battlestar Galactica 1978 vs BSG 2003: Part I

The theatre poster for Battlestar Galactica; kind of unusual, in that we only see the back of the heroes' heads. That'd be a big no no if it was a CCP leader.

Which is better: BSG 1978 or BSG 2003? 

Most people would say this is no contest, like pitting Mark Zuckerberg against Muhammad Ali. 

Okay, Ali is dead, so The Zuck would win by default. 

But you know what I mean.

The first Battlestar is steeped in Mormon theology, as show creator Glen A. Larson grew up as a member of that faith. Larson is a bit of a controversial figure, and has been sued for ripping off The Rockford Files, and was once punched in the face by James Garner.

Garner’s an island of integrity in a sea of narcissistic Hollywood egomaniacs, so if he’s punching Larson I imagine he had his reasons. 

That said, Larson did come up with a remarkable show (among others, like Magnum: P.I.): Battlestar Galactica is totally bonkers 1978 TV: it starts out in a solar system of 12 human colonies (or twelve solar systems… the show constantly confuses solar systems with galaxies and is never clear about scale), they get wiped out when unctuous political aide Baltar betrays humanity to the Cylons at a peace treaty which turns out to be a trap. 

Munich, where the West sold out Czechoslovakia to the Nazis, looms over the narrative, and Larson jabs peaceniks repeatedly in the eye not with a finger but a rapier, depicting them as guileless fools who inevitably lead their people to total destruction. 

Gee, tell us what you really think, Larson. 

Larsy’s a Churchillian, and he rams this home with all the subtlety of a two-by-four to the face, over and over again.

The enemies of humanity, the Cylons, are the robot creations of a reptilian race, who were then destroyed by their own creation. Shades of the AI fears that are all the rage these days. Truly ahead of its time!

After the Twelve Colony Holocaust, the Galactica leads a rag tag fleet to… a gambling planet, a subterranean Los Vegas, populated by mysterious insectoids. The survivors party like it’s 1999, until it’s revealed they’re all being fattened up for the insect hosts to lay their eggs in. Shades of Alien. Again, ahead of it’s time. 

So humanity flees again, after a spectacular battle where two Viper pilots (naturally Starbuck and Apollo) fake out the Cylon command ship by pretending their multiple squadrons, getting the Cylons to then move closer to the planet, which then conveniently explodes.

The original cast was quite large (Colonel Tigh isn't even included here), and it was going to be cut back severely for Season 2, but the show got the axe anyway.

Originally, the show was meant to be a series of TV movies. The first was actually shown in Canada in the movie theatres. After that, network executives decided that rather than the planned TV movies, they’d turn it into a weekly program. 

Well, Larson hadn’t prepared for that at all. Everything then had to be rejigged, scripts hastily thrown together, and budget stretched over 24 episodes. 

This is one of the reasons why the original BSG descended into cheesy planet of the week ridiculousness (as if it wasn't already ridiculous enough) and ship bound episodes. 

There are a number that truly shine, even if they don’t always make much sense. There’s a rip off of The Guns of Navarone in spaaaaace (planets rotate, guys), the return of Admiral Cain, and the arrival of Count Iblis. 

Those are my favourites.

The dialogue across the series is often meh. That's understandable, as it was thrown together in a rush. But it means the episodes haven't aged well. There are other, even older sci-fi shows that still stand up in terms of the writing, even if the effects don’t, and are watchable to this day. 

Battlestar Galactica 1978… not so much.

Next: The 2003 reboot by Ronald D. Moore and David Eicke

The LOTR trilogy rocks. The Hobbit... not so much.

Hmm... I think it's time for a rewatch!

I love The Lord of the Rings trilogy helmed by Peter Jackson. He pulled together an insanely talented and dedicated crew to realize a vision intended to honour Tolkien's vision. 

Sure, they trimmed some here and there, and they did up-level certain roles, but overall, the films feel very much like the books. At least to me. He had some of the most prominent Tolkien illustrators on the design team, so visually it tracks with a lot of paintings I'd seen in previous years. It fit my imagination, and in some cases, exceeded it.

I like the theatrical releases, to be honest; the director's cut adds a lot more stuff, but much of it doesn't feel essential and it slows the pacing of the film. Films are not books, and my attention span isn't what it used to be.

But the trilogy is undeniably a triumph of artistry, a rare case where film does justice to a beloved set of books.

The Hobbit trilogy, on the other hand, is something I can't say much positive about, so I will say nothing. 

We all know, from LOTR, that Peter Jackson can do right by Tolkien. We all know he believes passionately in doing so. I did not feel that came through with The Hobbit.

Then, in my caffeine fuelled deep dives into the darkest pits of the internet, I came across this video:

It explains so, so much.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Aim and the Imperial Stormtrooper trope

Stormtroopers? PFFT! You can't hit me, nyah nyah!

Combat staging in the original Star Wars trilogy, particularly A New Hope and Empire, is actually surprisingly grounded. 

I understand we have assistant director Brian Johnston to thank for that.

In Rogue One, Jyn and Cassian just have to point their blaster in a random direction and a dozen stormtroopers drop dead. 

And I’m only slightly exaggerating. 

Not so in the original trilogy. Obviously, the stormtroopers can’t hit, because the only targets are the main cast. Always good to have a few expendables along for the narrative ride. But what many people ignore is that the heroes fire plenty of shots that don’t hit either.

This is true to actual combat: most shots don’t hit anyone, contrary to what playground battles would have you believe. Typically, an average of 60 shots are needed to take out an enemy combatant.

In other words, the people complaining are simply ignorant playground fantasists. 

Further, the bad guys (and heroes) use cover, and will duck in and out to fire. Again, quite realistic. You see this on the Tantive IV at the beginning, on the Death Star, and in Cloud City. 

As the Star Wars franchise has gone on, however, combat staging has become increasingly infantile. 

Jedi and Sith back flips, hundred foot leaps, whirling twirling and parrying blaster bolts by the dozen are the order of the day. 

I get that, they’re magical space wizards, but the grunts?

Clone troopers just walk around, standing straight up, across open terrain, making no effort to protect themselves or minimize likelihood of getting hit. They don’t drop prone, they don’t cluster behind vehicles or obstacles, they just walk in the open. Sane people don’t do that, unless egged on by sergeants or NKVD units threatening to shoot them if they don’t.

I get these sort of silly suicidal tactics for robots; droids can be programmed to have no self-preservation instinct. 

But for humans? Or clones who are supposed to be the best of the best, battle trained and genetically engineered from the galaxy’s greatest bounty-hunter warrior? 

Pft.

Perhaps this is meant to be evocative of the American Civil War, from which the clone GAR (Grand Army of the Republic) gets its name. In those days, troops were armed with largely inaccurate weapons that required massed firepower to be effective. The Civil War saw the introduction of repeater rifles and more accurate weapons with rifled (hence the name) barrels. These helical grooves on the interior barrel surface greatly increased accuracy. This was more expensive, so these weren’t distributed to the majority of troops, and were used primarily by snipers and cavalry. By the time of the Franco-Prussian War, however, they were more common, and the shift began towards taking cover and the German storm troop infiltration tactics of WWI (from which we get the name ‘stormtroopers’). 

But it doesn’t make sense here, because these weapons are no different than the ones used later, or thousands of years earlier at the advent of the Galactic Republic. Technology canonically hasn’t evolved substantially for thousands of years in Star Wars, so there’s no way they don’t understand basic infantry tactics, and there’s no reason why it has to be staged with such grandiose, blatant incompetence.

Combat staging in Andor, on the other hand, is generally good, particularly in season one. The action sequences with the corporate cops trying to stop Andor are entirely believable.

True, the stormtroopers on Ghorman in season two stand in the open, sans cover, which doesn’t make as much sense… except here the Empire wanted to take casualties.

But in Andor? The troopers don’t bother. Every shot the heroes fire hits. Why? Because audiences expect heroes to hit with every shot, because that’s how they think combat actually works. They’re wrong.

On Jeda, Imperials pop on stage and fall like ten pins, with stunning narrative convenience. 

None of it feels remotely believable, even for space opera.

Given the amount of effort Gareth Edwards went to to create a believable, grounded setting, including 360 degree sets, incredible costume and set design, and fabulous cinematography, it’s sad it’s all undermined by combat staging designed by a six year old.

Incredibly, The Mandalorian is even worse: it undermines the villains deliberately, making them canonically incompetent, armed with weapons that don’t shoot straight: these boobs can’t even hit a stationary object a few feet away. 

What menace can they muster? Not much. What's the value of victory over the inept and incompetent? Small wonder the Empire collapsed.

And when the Impies gather to assault a bar, they don’t bother with cover, they stand in a big crowd out in the open, waiting to be shot. Have you ever seen a SWAT team do that? No, because they take cover behind whatever is available… because people don’t like getting shot.

If you want to have a believable fantasy world, you need to have the inhabitants behave in believable ways, or the bubble of disbelief pops like a Death Star shot up the thermal exhaust pipe. 

Making the villains a joke turns the franchise into playground pantomime, operating at the level of the children for whom it’s made. 

Stormies are now canonically incompetent; it just adds to their intimidating mystique!

Why I prefer the Death Star design flaw

Why, it's a moon-sized White Elephant!

Have you ever worked at a megacorporation? 

Or better yet, for government? 

If you’ve worked on a megaproject, you know how often things go wrong, how much compromise is involved, and how easy it is for something to be overlooked. 

Because something always is.

Take America's Zumwalt class destroyers: a multi-billion dollar fiasco for the United States Navy that fired $800,000 a pop shells. 

The HE177, the LaGG-3, the A7V, and the Lockheed XFV-1 Salmon? 

Failures every one.

History is littered with weapons and vehicles that perform badly, posing an even greater danger to their operators than the enemy. Ships so top heavy they immediately capsize (lookin' at you, Vasa), tanks so heavy they sink into the ground and can’t cross a bridge or use a road, sonic weapons that require targets to remain stationary for several minutes, ammo magazines placed below the ship’s chimney (the HMS Hood, possibly an inspiration for the Death Star flaw), constantly jamming gun magazines, and much worse have all been inflicted upon unfortunate servicemen.

The original Panama Canal project, designed by Ferdinand de Lesseps (the same man who built the Suez Canal), ended in fiasco, bankruptcy and mass death from disease. Some 800,000 French citizens lost their savings when the Compagnie Universelle du Canal Interocéanique de Panama folded, almost bringing down the French government. 

The bottom line? Lesseps original idea of building the canal, without locks, was wrong headed and never going to work.

How's that for a mega-project gone wrong?

Even worse, the USSR's White Sea-Baltic Canal was so badly managed it resulted in the deaths of 25,000+ workers.

How about the more recent Bataan nuclear power plant, built for $2.3 billion (and never completed, thankfully) in an earthquake-prone zone, near a volcano? I mean, seriously?

How about Chernobyl? 

And it's not just in the realm of hardware: software absurdities abound. Max Tegmark's Life 3.0 has some delicious examples:

"On June 4, 1996, scientists hoping to research Earth's magnetosphere cheered jubilantly as Ariane 5 rocket from the European Space Agency soared into the sky with scientific instruments they had built. Thirty-seven seconds later, their smiles vanished as the rocket exploded in a fireworks display costing hundreds of millions of dollars. 

The cause was found to be buggy software manipulating a number that was too large to fit into the 16 bits allocated for it. 

Two years later, NASA's Mars Climate Orbiter accidentally entered the Red Planet's atmosphere and disintegrated because two different parts of the software used different units for force, causing a 445% error in the rocket-engine thrust control.... their Mariner 1 mission to Venus exploded after launch from Cape Canaveral on July 22, 192, after the flight-control software was foiled by an incorrect punctuation mark."

Even better, a missing hyphen caused the Russian Phobos 1 probe to issue an 'end-of-mission' command while en route to Mars, resulting in it shutting down. 

You read that right: a missing hyphen took out a multi-million dollar interplanetary probe designed by some of the smartest people on the planet.

It happens.

Tiny oversights can lead to catastrophic consequences.

Building a space station the size of a small moon... now that is a project of such mammoth complexity, it's practically inevitable that something crucial would be overlooked. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. 

Honestly, it's amazing the Death Star worked at all. 

The only down side: the Rebellion managed to analyze the flaw a little too easily, and the Imperials confirmed it as a risk during the Rebel attack. If it was that easy to discover the flaw, the Imperials would already know. Unless hubris and overconfidence prevented them for looking for that kind of flaw at all… which is actually... also kind of plausible. 

If the Empire had HACMS (high-assurance cyber military systems), they'd have spotted major flaws, whether deliberately placed or accidental. As Star Wars droids don't seem to be especially bright, I doubt this was a thing. 

Making the Death Star flaw an act of deliberate sabotage by a disgruntled anti-Imperial designer is just so much less fun it’s not funny.

I like my doomsday devices big and dumb.