April Ambition

Too many good things have been happening. Get an axe.

My Pal Skipp finally posted his movie on-line, and web-savvy readers can surely find Jake's Wake if they enter the proper Google fu stance. Last weekend he tied for a Stoker, the Kid's Choice Award of the Horror Writers Association, splitting Superior Achievement in an Anthology with Joe R. Lansdale, which can only mean a six-gun standoff at dawn. Assuming Skipp survives, he can put "Stoker Award Winner" over his byline for the next 50 years. Hopefully this will encourage people who make book jackets to bring his paperbacks back into print.

Then last week I heard from an old friend I had lost touch with. A movie she worked on recently entered limited release--Journey From The Fall. I have yet to see it myself, and it probably falls out of the general interest of our 8-strong and growing target demographic, but I'm happy for her. As it turns out, she's been living in LA for the past few years, so I now have one more party member for my schedule to conflict with.

Finally, an associate of mine fulfilled his rock star checklist on Saturday by playing at the Whisky A Go Go. It's one of those famous clubs you know about if you know anything about rock. If you're like me, you vaguely remember it from a Behind the Music episode. A lazy Wikipedia search reveals that you probably like at least one band that made a name for themselves there. So it's a life goal complete, and I remember his set being good. (I'm pretty sure about that. The bartenders were a bit generous that night.)

Seeing my friends revel in their accomplishments, I couldn't help but be inspired to work on my own goals.

I haven't beaten a videogame since We Heart Katamari. This month, I will guide a transsexual high elf to glory.

Jake's Wake Is Coming

Three things I want to note before delving into my rant: One, the previous Lost post can be read by anyone who already knows that Mr. Eko is dead or doesn't know who he is, in case the "it was all a dream" tag wasn't enough of a tip-off. Two, My Pal Skipp's short will be linked here as soon as it is available on the Internet. And three, though our spoiler policy is clear, our "you'll never watch this show again if you know this" policy is not. So I'll warn you that if you intend to keep watching Battlestar Galactica because you crave disappointment, please, don't read any further.

Here is an extra line in case you read fast. I hope you're reading this on purpose, because you've probably already seen the word below in quotes.

I watched Battlestar Galactica Sunday night. The one where Starbuck "died."

I'm done.

I'll keep watching until the pajama trial of Baltar, and maybe check out the made for Sci-Fi channel summer movie and the first two episodes next season just for a laugh. But I'm done.

I tried to embrace Mr. Bile's "one episode at a time theory for Battlestar enjoyment." But when it comes down to it, BSG is not Lost and I can't watch it as if it were.

Think what you will about Lost's refusal to answer lingering mysteries or advance the island plot, but it's held true to the series' premise. Each episode is tied into a single character's past. Whether that actually advances the timeline or explains why that character is doing the same thing over and over again, the conceit has been remarkably consistent. And since the themes of the show are predestiny, people's inability to change, and fate vs. free will, it works.

Battlestar is a different type of show. It began as a wanna-be pilot/mini-series and developed into a tight 13-episode first season with an ensemble cast. But over the course of the bloated second and third seasons, the majority of episodes seemed as if they were written for network sweeps. With the exception of two-part finales or plot arc epilogues, episodes increasingly focused on only one or two characters. Flashbacks became commonplace, rewriting what we knew, and the metaplot, when acknowledged, was presented as a clip show.

BSG forgot it was an ensemble show. All the interesting characters have either been written out, ignored, or turned to cardboard. Not only am I supposed to believe that Starbuck flew into a colored space hole to "die" just because, but Adama reacts like a spoiled teenager afterwards and breaks his favorite toy?

Get back to me 10 years from now when Chris Carter comes out of retirement to make the re-re-imagining of Battlestar Galactica, and I can get my hopes up and have them dashed all over again courtesy of Lance Henriksen.