Surrogates

Surrogates movie poster

 

Sur­ro­gates is an ele­gantly lit­eral twist on the clas­sic sci-fi theme of liv­ing through avatars. Cyber­punk writ­ers William Gib­son and Neal Stephen­son pio­neered vir­tual real­ity as a set­ting for the dra­matic exag­ger­a­tion of issues first sparked by the very begin­nings of inter­net chat rooms. Their pre­dic­tions have already come true, in part, in the form of social net­work­ing and immer­sive games like Sec­ond Life and World of War­craft. Sur­ro­gates takes this con­ceit one step fur­ther, but fails to address moss of the ques­tions it raises. To look deeper than I think the film sup­ports, you might start to think about the per­sonas we craft for our­selves in dif­fer­ent con­texts, how we dress and behave in the pri­vacy of our homes ver­sus how we do at work or play.

Rosamund Pike in Surrogates

Directed by Jonathan Mostow (of the excel­lent nail-biter Break­down, but also the dud Ter­mi­na­tor 3: Rise of the Machines), the film is based on the comic book The Sur­ro­gates by Robert Ven­ditti and Brett Weldele. The premise requires a long, involved pro­logue nec­es­sary just to explain it. This very near future is defined by the tech­nol­ogy for remote-controlled androids, which are not unlike cars: afford­able enough for the major­ity of the pop­u­la­tion to own one, avail­able in tiered mod­els that reflect your income and taste, and a way of life ingrained into soci­ety just as much as cars have shaped cities and the high­ways that net­work them together.

Taken to its log­i­cal extreme, a world pop­u­lated by remote con­trolled robots affects every­thing from the work­place to war­fare. Beauty par­lors have mor­phed into some­thing like hi-tech auto repair shops, where peo­ple trick their sur­ro­gates out with new rub­ber faces and super-strong limbs. Patriot Act-like mass sur­veil­lance is con­ducted through the robots’ very eyes, with­out their own­ers’ per­mis­sion, in an impossible-to-miss metaphor for Bush-era war­rant­less wire­taps. War is now a death­less abstract resem­bling a com­puter game: face­less drones teem dis­tant bat­tle­grounds in a sick par­ody of today’s air­borne Preda­tor drones and precision-guided mis­siles. Notice also the spot­less art direc­tion: every­thing is clean because robots don’t eat or litter.

When so much of the fic­tional ram­i­fi­ca­tions are thought out, it’s dis­ap­point­ing when so many other obvi­ous impli­ca­tions are left unclear. We’re told the crime rate has fallen dra­mat­i­cally since most peo­ple started liv­ing through robot sur­ro­gates, but why, nec­es­sar­ily? Per­haps because there’s no such thing as rap­ing or mur­der­ing a robot. But why do FBI agents have such lux­u­ri­ous homes, if their jobs are less nec­es­sary in this utopia?

Radha Mitchell and Bruce Willis in Surrogates

One inter­est­ing wrin­kle barely touched upon is that some char­ac­ters, includ­ing Greer (Bruce Willis) and his wife Mag­gie (Rosamund Pike), have selected sur­ro­gates mod­eled on their own nat­ural phys­i­cal appear­ances. Younger, stronger, and more vir­ile, per­haps, but rec­og­niz­ably their ide­al­ized like­nesses. There are only a few exam­ples of users that opt to mix race and/or gen­ders, let alone go to fur­ther extremes. The most out­wardly unusual look­ing sur­ro­gates we see merely have impos­si­ble com­plex­ions. Per­haps the Greers are not fully com­mit­ted to liv­ing this way. Why not explore this point more? A fail­ure of the imagination.

But by far the biggest absur­dity is the claim that 98% of the pop­u­la­tion lives through sur­ro­gates. The film would have been bet­ter off by side­step­ping the ques­tion of whether or not much of the pop­u­la­tion could afford state-of-the-art con­sumer elec­tron­ics. If only a por­tion of the pop­u­la­tion in 2010 has access to things like health care and broad­band, it’s cer­tainly absurd to pre­tend for even a silly sci-fi movie that we all might some day be able to afford per­sonal robots. But then again, there are hun­dreds of mil­lions of cars in use world­wide today, so per­haps it is not that out­ra­geous to hypoth­e­size that some­day we all might be remotely pilot­ing some kind of robot around all day every day.

While many other peo­ple, includ­ing his wife, choose to live life through their sur­ro­gates, FBI agents are given tur­bocharged loaner mod­els in some kind of perk akin to today’s com­pany cars. Greer behaves dif­fer­ently as him­self or when work­ing through his sur­ro­gate. He spouts tough, sar­cas­tic, noir-ish detec­tive dia­logue when work­ing, but turns meek and emo­tional when liv­ing as a “meatball.”

Ving Rhames and James Cromwell appear in dis­ap­point­ing fleet­ing roles. Rosamund Pike is obvi­ously very beau­ti­ful, but her wide cir­cu­lar glassy eyes frankly look slightly odd from cer­tain angles, mak­ing her an excel­lent cast­ing choice.

There are fewer android-related spe­cial effects than you might imag­ine, espe­cially when com­pared to West­world (read The Dork Report review), The Step­ford Wives, Alien, and A.I., all of which revel in reveal­ing robotic guts beneath rub­ber skin (images one might even fetishize as a lit­eral “cyber­porn”). Rather, the film’s best spe­cial effect is when a sur­ro­gate deac­ti­vates and comes to a com­plete halt. I can’t guess how it was done, but it’s clearly more com­pli­cated than sim­ply freez­ing the frame. It’s very eerie to see a per­son, how­ever artificial-seeming, sim­ply and silently freeze as the light of life goes out of their eyes.

A osten­ta­tious dan­gling plot thread about Greer’s dead son goes nowhere. Even the rev­e­la­tion of what caused his death is a mis­fire, and has no impact upon the story. Why would a painful loss in the fam­ily com­pel the Greers to live vir­tual lives? Every­one else is only doing it because they want to appear attractive.

The final moments are lame and non-dramatic, rely­ing on unseen news­cast­ers to explic­itly out­line the themes of the movie, for the slower mem­bers of the audi­ence, perhaps.


Offi­cial movie site: www.chooseyoursurrogate.com

Buy the DVD or Blu-ray from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Westworld

Westworld movie poster

 

The late Michael Crich­ton is pri­mar­ily known as a best­selling nov­el­ist, but some­what less so as a screen­writer, fea­ture film direc­tor, and tele­vi­sion pro­ducer (he was one of the co-creators of the block­buster series E.R.). Char­ac­ter­is­tic nov­els Juras­sic Park and The Androm­eda Strain are built upon fas­ci­nat­ing spec­u­la­tive sci­ence with thrilling story poten­tial, spoiled by wafer-thin char­ac­ters and sim­plis­tic plots. His 1973 thriller West­world suf­fers from the same syn­drome. Despite its high-minded ori­gins in spec­u­la­tive sci­ence, the movie is sim­ple in struc­ture and theme. It’s not unusual for sci­ence fic­tion films to be overtly based on West­ern tropes (the best exam­ple that comes to mind is Out­land), but West­world is a hybrid with equal parts of each. The sec­ond half is basi­cally an extended chase sequence, punc­tu­ated by a few clas­sic hor­ror movie tropes.

Yul Brynner in WestworldThere’s a face off in the corner

West­world posits a future in which robot­ics and arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence have advanced enough to enable a new mar­ket for enter­tain­ment and leisure. The futur­is­tic vaca­tion resort Delos is a fore­run­ner to Juras­sic Park: an expe­ri­ence adven­ture for the afflu­ent, pow­ered by untested advanced tech­nol­ogy. Imag­ine Dis­ney World-like ani­ma­tron­ics taken to the next level: semi­au­tonomous robots roam an immer­sive envi­ron­ment to serve as inter­ac­tive ser­vants, sex toys, and tar­get practice.

Crich­ton skips over the entire issue of how these machines achieve con­scious­ness, mak­ing the com­mon movie fal­lacy that robots = arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence. If they are basi­cally ani­ma­tronic machines, how did they evolve an instinct for self-preservation? If these droids are not feel­ing actual rebel­lion and mur­der­ous vin­dic­tive­ness, is it a virus or mal­func­tion? On a more prac­ti­cal level, there appears to be a plot hole in how all robots but The Gun­slinger (Yul Bryn­ner) appear to com­pletely van­ish after mur­der­ing the Delos’ staff and visitors.

Richard Benjamin and James Brolin in WestworldJames Brolin & Richard Ben­jamin take the vaca­tion of the future, today

Brynner’s may wear the same cos­tume as in The Mag­nif­i­cent Seven (read The Dork Report review), but The Gunslinger’s true ana­log is closer to Jaws and Moby Dick. He pops up again and again, seem­ingly unkil­l­able, pos­sessed of an unex­pressed, inex­plic­a­ble moti­va­tion to hunt one sin­gle man. He fix­ates on tourist John Blane (James Brolin) and remorse­lessly pur­sues him to the death, not unlike the implaca­ble demons that haunt Cor­mac McCarthy’s No Coun­try for Old Men, All the Pretty Horses, and Blood Merid­ian. Bryn­ner isn’t given much in the way of dia­log or char­ac­ter, but you can see he worked very hard on his phys­i­cal per­for­mance. His bear­ing, pos­ture, gait, and gaze are all unset­tling. Far from a car­toon­ish robot fig­ure, The Gun­slinger is really inhu­man, weird, and creepy.

West­world, like Juras­sic Park, seems to be a vague cau­tion­ary tale against toy­ing with advanced sci­ence. The famously science-minded Crich­ton (an M.D.) is not sim­ply demo­niz­ing sci­ence itself, but rather its arro­gant mis­use. If the first mis­take is to build machines more com­plex than the human mind can under­stand, the sec­ond is to bet our lives upon them.

Delos is a fan­tasy world where peo­ple can kill or fuck any­thing they want. In other words, a recipe for dis­as­ter. Later sci­ence fic­tion sto­ries like Tron, The Matrix, and Caprica (read The Dork Report review) would typ­i­cally stage sim­i­lar moral­ity plays in vir­tual real­ity. But I don’t get the sense that West­world is crit­i­ciz­ing the indul­gence of humanity’s worst ten­den­cies. Is it instead focus­ing on the mis­treat­ment of semi-sentient beings as slaves? When the park is in work­ing con­di­tion, the robots are pros­ti­tuted and mur­dered over and over for humans’ enter­tain­ment. After they become con­scious, we see one “female” robot reject a human’s sex­ual advances, while another is cru­elly chained up in a dun­geon. Nei­ther seems to be express­ing much in the way of grief or resent­ment. Instead, we are per­haps meant to see them as inno­cents that are sim­ply seek­ing a lit­tle dignity.

Stray obser­va­tions:

  • The sequel movie Future­world (1976) and TV series Beyond West­world (1980) are not avail­able on DVD or online at this time of writing.
  • Young James Brolin looks so much at times like Chris­t­ian Bale does today that it’s almost creepy.
  • Even Delos’ ani­mals are robotic, per­haps allud­ing to the moral tests regard­ing the treat­ment of ani­mals (robotic or real) in Philip K. Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Elec­tric Sheep. Even more on the nose, Blane finds a robot snake in the desert, fore­shad­ow­ing the ones we see for sale in Blade Runner.

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Battlestar Galactica: The Plan

Battlestar Galactica The Plan poster

 

Put sim­ply, Bat­tlestar Galac­tica: The Plan is a clip show done right, in dis­guise as an orig­i­nal movie for tele­vi­sion. What­ever else its intended pur­pose, it must also do double-duty as a kind of coda, appen­dix, or post­script to the cel­e­brated tele­vi­sion series (2004–2009). But is it one final cash-in, before the sets are struck and the cast scat­ters to the winds, or a noble attempt to address neglected aspects of the com­plex mythos that many fans felt weren’t justly served by the con­tro­ver­sial final episode? Which, for the record, I loved for its audac­ity, while still sym­pa­thiz­ing with the con­tin­gent of fans that felt it strained plau­si­bil­ity and raised more ques­tions than it answered.

The Plan incor­po­rates footage from across all four sea­sons, seam­lessly melded with new mate­r­ial writ­ten by Jane Espen­son, who wrote for the show dur­ing its fourth sea­son, and directed by Edward James Olmos, who starred in the series as Com­man­der Bill Adama and helmed sev­eral indi­vid­ual episodes. The DVD bonus fea­tures, while typ­i­cally hagio­graphic, rightly point out that Olmos obvi­ously had an inti­mate knowl­edge of the full story arc as well as a strong rela­tion­ship with the entire cast, so he was prob­a­bly the best choice to helm The Plan. Curi­ously, Exec­u­tive Pro­ducer Ronald D. Moore is missing-in-action from the cred­its and DVD bonus features.

Dean Stockwell in Battlestar Galactica: The PlanBrother Cavil (in hat) and Brother Cavil (not in hat) face their ends

In a nar­ra­tive con­ceit shared with the pre­vi­ous Bat­tlestar Galac­tica spe­cial movie Razor (2007), key por­tions of the show’s con­ti­nu­ity are retold from a dif­fer­ent per­spec­tive, in this case that of the Cylons, a frac­tious race of syn­thetic life­forms with a (shall we say) com­pli­cated rela­tion­ship with their human cre­ators. All but one of the actors por­tray­ing the twelve Cylon mod­els appear in new sequences here (Lucy Law­less being the sole hold­out), join­ing some of the orig­i­nal human char­ac­ters (miss­ing James Cal­lis, Mary McDon­nell, Katee Sack­hoff, Tah­moh Penikett, and Jamie Bam­ber). Oddly, Pres­i­dent Roslin (McDon­nell) is the only major char­ac­ter to not even appear in archival clips, being very con­spic­u­ous in her absence. Per­haps the actress objected to the script, or demanded too much money?

I per­son­ally don’t believe the series proper nec­es­sar­ily needed to tell more of the story than the writ­ers chose to before its final episode (which is off-limits any­way, tak­ing place chrono­log­i­cally after the events seen in The Plan). But if the goal of The Plan was to fill in some of the per­ceived gaps, it’s ulti­mately unsat­is­fy­ing for not address­ing some of the truly puz­zling mys­ter­ies, par­tic­u­larly the still-unseen thir­teenth Cylon called Daniel and the true nature of Starbuck’s (Sack­hoff) death, res­ur­rec­tion, and sub­se­quent visions. What new plot infor­ma­tion and char­ac­ter insights we do get are nice, but inessen­tial. We see more of the Cylon sur­prise attack, with the human colonies destroyed one by one, but how does this expand the story beyond indulging in some CGI apoc­a­lypse porn? But to The Plan’s credit, some of the most tan­ta­liz­ing mys­ter­ies are prob­a­bly best left up to our imag­i­na­tions. Not with­out rea­son, fans spent the final sea­son won­der­ing how Star­buck could be any­thing but a Cylon, only to find she was some­thing else entirely. I would argue the writ­ers chose to not drag the mys­tery down into mun­dan­ity, like the fatal mis­take George Lucas made by pro­vid­ing a pseudo-scientific def­i­n­i­tion of The Force in Star Wars Episode I: The Phan­tom Menace.

Grace Park in Battlestar Galactica: The PlanBoomer, true to her name, is a tick­ing time bomb

So what is the epony­mous Plan? As we saw in the first moments of the orig­i­nal series, the religiously-motivated Cylon race attempts to totally anni­hi­late human­ity in one fell swoop. A small fleet of human strag­glers escapes, with a small num­ber of Cylons unwill­ingly trapped among them (surely a frus­trat­ing sit­u­a­tion for crea­tures who expected to per­ish in the cat­a­clysm and be reborn in a heaven free of humans). The major rev­e­la­tion of The Plan is that much of the vio­lent con­flict we saw in the orig­i­nal series was actu­ally a des­per­ately impro­vised plan by this rag­tag cell of partly-unwilling sol­diers. Meet the new plan, same as the old plan: geno­cide. So we now under­stand these few Cylons to be a strug­gling ter­ror­ist cell.

The cen­tral char­ac­ters that drive the action are a pair of Ones/Cavils (Dean Stock­well), whose pend­ing exe­cu­tion pro­vides a fram­ing device to the entire movie. Also sig­nif­i­cantly expanded are Anders (Michael Trucco) and two very dif­fer­ent ver­sions of Four/Simon (Rick Wor­thy). We learn a lit­tle more about the hap­less Five/Aaron (Matthew Ben­nett), the expla­na­tion for his rel­a­tive insignif­i­cance in the show being that he is sim­ply a lit­tle dim, often serv­ing as an inept pawn of Cavil. We learn how the Eight that lived as Boomer actu­ally func­tioned (she was a sleeper agent who gen­uinely believed she was human, but was brought in and out of this illu­sion by Cavil — with her human side even­tu­ally win­ning over). We meet an addi­tional Six (Tri­cia Helfer) who worked under­cover as a pros­ti­tute, con­tribut­ing lit­tle to the story beyond more T&A. Speak­ing of, The Plan fea­tures a great deal of gra­tu­itous full-frontal male and female nudity, not moti­vated by plot or char­ac­ter, and seem­ingly only there for tit­il­la­tion and a faux sense of realism.

Tricia Helfer in Battlestar Galactica: The PlanEven the most diehard Bat­tlestar Galac­tica fan may have trou­ble remem­ber­ing which Six this is

Most of left-behind Cylons become con­t­a­m­i­nated, or at least influ­enced, by prox­im­ity with humans. Another Cavil is trapped on the post-apocalyptic Caprica with Anders, simul­ta­ne­ously rever­ing him as a father of the Cylon race while chal­leng­ing his empa­thetic lead­er­ship skills. How they all sur­vive radi­a­tion poi­son­ing isn’t explained. The Caprica-bound Cavil’s mind rapidly evolves to the point where he becomes worlds apart from his bit­ter, cruel twin in the fleet, who remains the sole Cylon purely ded­i­cated to the orig­i­nal plan.

Was the project mis­con­ceived? It is cer­tainly in keep­ing with the clas­si­cally bleak Bat­tlestar Galac­tica style and tone; a new char­ac­ter is a help­less lit­tle orphan kid, very out of keep­ing for a show that con­tin­u­ally rejects cute & cud­dly stereo­types, and I should have known that his fate would not be a good one. By design, The Plan is res­olutely intended for diehard Bat­tlestar Galac­tica fans with ency­clo­pe­dic knowl­edge of the show’s mythos. I con­sider myself a big fan, and have seen every episode, but there was much I hadn’t mem­o­rized, and about which I remain con­fused. For instance, I can’t recall if it was ever explained exactly why the so-called Final Five Cylons were implanted among human soci­ety to live as humans for sev­eral decades, and why only one incar­na­tion of Cavil knew of their exis­tence. It seems a mis­take to pro­duce a big-budget TV movie for a very nar­row audi­ence of super­fans that can remem­ber all this stuff, months after their favorite show stops air­ing. The Plan cer­tainly won’t attract vir­gin view­ers, as any­one inter­ested in the series would cer­tainly start with a DVD of the orig­i­nal 2004 minis­eries. I don’t even want to think about how The Plan must have seemed to any unfor­tu­nate view­ers who had never seen Bat­tlestar Galac­tica at all, let alone inter­nal­ized its mythos.

It’s hard to see how The Plan can be any­thing other than the true end of the series. Get­ting this much of the cast back together for one TV movie must have been a real feat, so doing it again in the future seems unlikely. The pre­quel series Caprica (read The Dork Report review of the pilot episode) is set far enough in Bat­tlestar Galactica’s past that much of the cast can­not log­i­cally guest star (although, upon reflec­tion, it might be pos­si­ble to see some of the Final Five, who might be liv­ing among humans at this point). So The Plan is most likely the end.


Offi­cial movie site: www.syfy.com/battlestar

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Caprica

Caprica poster Alessandra Toressani

 

The recently con­cluded series Bat­tlestar Galac­tica (2003–2009) was crit­i­cally acclaimed and much beloved by a rel­a­tively small group of fans and crit­ics that appre­ci­ated the brainy show’s bleak, pes­simistic view of human­ity. It will cer­tainly live for­ever as a clas­sic achieve­ment in tele­vi­sion, but the com­mon con­sen­sus is that it failed to reach the wide audi­ence it could have. Exec­u­tive Pro­ducer Ron Moore told Vari­ety “‘We had view­ers say that if they were able to trick their wives or girl­friends into watch­ing Galac­tica, they loved it. But with the name Bat­tlestar Galac­tica scream­ing sci­ence fic­tion,’ he adds, ‘there was just such a high hur­dle to get female view­ers to even try it.’” So comes Caprica, a pre­quel osten­si­bly engi­neered from the begin­ning for greater appeal.

In an orig­i­nal move, its unrated (read: blood ‘n’ boo­bies) movie-length pilot episode pre­miered day-and-date on DVD and dig­i­tal down­load in May 1999, nearly a year before the series proper. It pre­serves some of the sig­na­ture ver­nac­u­lar of its par­ent series, includ­ing tech­nob­a­b­ble like “Cylon” (a mar­ket­ing term short for, we finally learn, Cyber­netic Life­form Node), the trip-on-the-tongue “gods damn it,” the infa­mous euphemism “frak,” and even racial epi­thets like “dirt eater.” The char­ac­ter of Bill Adama (Edward James Olmos in Bat­tlestar Galac­tica) appears as a young boy, and one sup­poses we might later even see some of the “final five” Cylons from the orig­i­nal series (Michael Hogan, Kate Ver­non, Michael Trucco, Rekha Sharma, and Aaron Dou­glas), who ought to have been run­ning around in some form at this point in BSG chronol­ogy. Some of the same core themes are still present, par­tic­u­larly reli­gious intol­er­ance and fam­i­lies cop­ing with cat­a­strophic dis­as­ter. Even the spe­cial effects are up to par with Galactica’s ground­break­ing space­ship bat­tles, although applied to spec­tac­u­larly con­vinc­ing dig­i­tal cityscapes.

Eric Stoltz and Esai Morales in Battlestar Galactica CapricaCaprica, like Bat­tlestar Galac­tica, holds that there are no Sur­geon Gen­eral warn­ings in space

But there are sig­nif­i­cantly wor­ri­some signs that indi­cate a fatal mis­cal­cu­la­tion on The SyFy Channel’s part (worse than their aston­ish­ingly stu­pid rechris­ten­ing from “Sci-Fi”): Caprica hinges on two men and three annoy­ing teens, rel­e­gat­ing its only two adult female char­ac­ters to the side­lines. It may very well be the case that many women were dis­cour­aged from giv­ing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica a chance, but it’s also true that the show fea­tured a bevy of sig­nif­i­cant, com­plex women: self-destructive fire­brand Star­buck (Katee Sack­hoff), pres­i­dent of all human­ity Laura Roslin (Mary McDon­nell), Dick Cheney-esque war crim­i­nal Cap­tain Cain (Michelle Forbes), and con­flicted Cylons Three (Lucy Law­less), Six (Tri­cia Helfer), and Eight (Grace Park). So far, at least, Caprica includes only two lead female roles, nei­ther of whom fig­ures strongly in the pilot episode: Amanda Gray­stone (Paula Mal­com­son, from Dead­wood) and Sis­ter Clarice Wil­low (Polly Walker, from Rome).

But maybe this gen­der inequal­ity makes a kind of sense. The real core dynamic between the two male leads makes for clas­sic sto­ry­telling. Indus­tri­al­ist Daniel Gray­stone (Eric Stoltz) invented a vir­tual real­ity play­ground called the Holoband, and has since turned to devel­op­ing weaponized robot­ics. Joseph Adama (Esai Morales) is a crooked lawyer tied to an off­world orga­nized crime syn­di­cate that put him through law school, and fur­ther con­trol him with threats. A ter­ror­ist bomb­ing claims their daugh­ters (and Adama’s wife), and the two men later bond over mutual grief, cof­fee, and cig­a­rettes (like Bat­tlestar Galac­tica, doc­tors and nutri­tion­ists many thou­sands of years in our past haven’t yet warned peo­ple about the dan­gers of caf­feine and nico­tine). The two men may be of dif­fer­ent plan­ets, races, and reli­gions, but become bound by com­plic­ity in an act of indus­trial espi­onage that leads to a mur­der of an elected offi­cial (cast and cos­tumed in thick glasses to resem­ble Dr. Tyrell (Joe Turkel) from Blade Runner).

If one of the two had been female, the viewer might nat­u­rally expect a roman­tic sub­plot. Caprica’s cre­ators may have avoided this kind of dis­trac­tion, but the down­side is that the pri­mary nar­ra­tive con­flict is between two men, and the only two adult female char­ac­ters are solely defined by their rela­tion­ships with the men and/or kids in their lives. Daniel and Amanda’s daugh­ter Zoe (Alessan­dra Tores­sani) is killed in a ter­ror­ist attack, but we never see the icy Amanda mourn as we do Daniel. Her char­ac­ter is sim­ply Daniel’s wife, noth­ing more. Sis­ter Wil­low, at least, is revealed by the end to be more than she seems. Here’s hop­ing we see Amanda and Sis­ter Wil­low sig­nif­i­cantly expanded in future episodes.

Another thing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica got right was to side­step alto­gether the trap of annoy­ing child char­ac­ters. It was an adult show, for intel­li­gent adults. Caprica obvi­ously also didn’t learn from a les­son from Jeri­cho (2006–2008), a gen­er­ally smart show whose weak­est char­ac­ters were a pair of whiney teens that were thank­fully writ­ten out. Out of Caprica’s trio of kids, two die but unfor­tu­nately come back to a kind of immor­tal­ity (if you only counted one, check out the deleted scenes avail­able on the DVD edition).

Eric Stoltz, Paula Malcomson, and Esai Morales in Battlestar Galactica CapricaWait, there was a woman in Caprica? Let’s hope poor Paula Mal­com­son actu­ally gets some scenes in the full series

The first 10 min­utes pack in a mas­sive down­load of impor­tant infor­ma­tion, espe­cially tricky for any view­ers not already versed in the fic­tional Galac­tica uni­verse. Cer­tain key points are reit­er­ated once things slow down later, but a new viewer tun­ing in cold might get the sense they were sup­posed to be versed in all this stuff already, instead of just get­ting teased with a bar­rage of info to be unpacked later. When a title card reads “58 years before The Fall,” Galac­tica fans will catch the ref­er­ence to the sneak attack by the Cylons that nearly erad­i­cates their human cre­ators, the incit­ing inci­dent that moti­vated the entire story arc of the par­ent series.

We then cut directly to the deca­dent V Club, imply­ing this civilization’s late-Rome-like deca­dence to be one of the direct causes of the com­ing Fall. A fully immer­sive vir­tual real­ity sim­u­la­tion not unlike The Matrix, the V Club is full of teens danc­ing to dated techno, ogling hot les­bians, mak­ing sim­u­lated human sac­ri­fice, and squar­ing off in a fight club knock­off. Its banal­ity betrays a fail­ure of imag­i­na­tion not just on the part of Caprica’s teens, but also on the film­mak­ers. A rebel­lious gen­er­a­tion co-opts a vir­tual world in which they can do absolutely any­thing they want, and all they can come up with is a sin­gle night­club that only spins techno from Earth’s 1990s? No gay boys want to make out in pub­lic too? Nobody wants to fly? Nobody wants to enhance their vir­tual appear­ance, say, to make them­selves younger, more beau­ti­ful, cov­ered in fur or made of diamond?

The tit­u­lar Caprica is the cap­i­tal of twelve plan­ets col­o­nized by human­ity. We only caught glimpses of its future before it is dec­i­mated in the first episode of Bat­tlestar Galac­tica, so there is plenty of unex­plored ter­ri­tory for a new pre­quel series to fill in. Its fash­ions resem­ble 1950s Amer­ica, per­haps meant to cap­i­tal­ize on the pop­u­lar­ity of the Show­time series Mad Men. We’re sup­posed to agree that this is a cor­rupt, deca­dent soci­ety on the cusp of col­lapse. But how, exactly? They’re play­ing god(s) by delv­ing into dan­ger­ous tech­no­log­i­cal areas like robotic weapons and arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence, or at least a means of record­ing a human individual’s con­scious­ness into a com­puter. They’ve designed vir­tual real­ity sys­tems capa­ble of sim­u­lat­ing any desire. The soci­ety is racist to the core; Tau­rans (from the sis­ter planet Tau­rus) are called “dirt eaters” and asso­ci­ated with orga­nized crime (although to be fair, the lat­ter actu­ally is true — they seem mod­eled on the immi­grant Sicil­ian mafia of 1920s Amer­ica). Like Michael Cor­leone in the God­fa­ther tril­ogy, Joseph is osten­si­bly an upstand­ing cit­i­zen forced to com­pro­mise with his her­itage. Unable to com­pletely extri­cate him­self from the mob, he tries to Capri­can­ize every­thing else is his life: chang­ing his sur­name to Adams and rais­ing his son as a Capri­can, all to the con­ster­na­tion of his mother.

Alessandra Toressani in Battlestar Galactica CapricaZoe, genius hacker, goes club­bing in The Matrix

This society’s most truly dan­ger­ous trait appears to be its ingrained reli­gious intol­er­ance. The pop­u­la­tion is almost uni­formly poly­the­is­tic, and intol­er­ant of the minor­ity monothe­ists. Under­ground mil­i­tants have formed the Sol­diers of the One, a cult that believes in a com­bi­na­tion of monothe­ism and anti-science. Their secret rep­re­sen­ta­tive Sis­ter Wil­low recruits teen stu­dents from her exclu­sive pri­vate school. Zeal­ous Ben (Avan Jogia), in turn, drafts Zoe and her friend Magda, and later stages the sui­cide bomb­ing that claims the Gray­stone and Adama fam­i­lies. Ben was pre­sum­ably being manip­u­lated by Sis­ter Wil­low (Polly Walker), who also had designs on Zoe’s bril­liant com­puter skills that didn’t nec­es­sar­ily hinge on her remain­ing alive.

The biggest addi­tion to the Bat­tlestar Galac­tica mythos is a deeper look into arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence. Like the Ter­mi­na­tor fran­chise, I appre­ci­ate Caprica’s empha­sis that devel­op­ing arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence is a sep­a­rate pur­suit than build­ing robots. Too many sci­ence fic­tion sto­ries seem to equate the two, includ­ing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica itself in its con­tro­ver­sial final episode (for the record, I loved its audac­ity). The Day the Earth Stood Still and For­bid­den Planet’s humanoid robots have minds of its own, but what about being robots makes them so, as opposed to immo­bile com­put­ers? Blade Runner’s repli­cants and A.I.‘s boy robots look human first, and it is never asked what exactly makes them sen­tient beings (unless the ques­tion is how we anthro­po­mor­phize things that out­wardly seem human). Arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence is almost always auto­mat­i­cally evil in movies such as Ter­mi­na­tor and 2001: A Space Odyssey. It is rarely inher­ently inno­cent, as in A.I.: Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence. Caprica fea­tures two dis­turb­ing scenes of a human con­scious­ness wak­ing up trapped in a crude robot body. That’s called over-egging your pud­ding. Also creepy: the advances made by Zoe lead directly to Daniel’s clumsy war­rior robots becom­ing the effec­tive killing machines chris­tened Cylons.

Speak­ing of, how could a lumi­nary in the cyber­net­ics busi­ness not real­ize his own daugh­ter was a genius-level hacker? Appar­ently work­ing on her own, Zoe comes up with a means of pre­serv­ing the 100 ter­abytes of human data stored in the human brain, and com­ple­ment it with 300 MB of dig­i­tal detri­tus that per­son has left behind on Caprica’s equiv­a­lents of Google and Face­book: med­ical records, playlists, email, searches, social net­work­ing, etc. Her break­through allows Gray­stone to res­ur­rect Adama’s late daugh­ter as well (although we don’t see how he obtained her 100 ter­abytes of brain mat­ter). The resul­tant dupli­cate quickly goes insane, so Zoe is some­how spe­cial, the only dig­i­tal human mind that doesn’t go mad.

Some awfully big events are revealed in the DVD edition’s deleted scenes: Adama learns early on that Zoe was involved in the bomb­ing, adding an extra dimen­sion to his inter­ac­tions with her father. Also, boy bomber Ben’s mind was also suc­cess­fully uploaded into the V Club by Sis­ter Wil­low, sug­gest­ing that Zoe might not be so unique after all, and that her sci­en­tific break­throughs may have been in part devel­oped by the Sol­diers of the One. Both of these strike me as great lay­ers of com­plex­ity that would have only added to the story.

Note: the above is a revised, expended, and cor­rected ver­sion of The Dork Report’s orig­i­nal review of the DVD edi­tion, pub­lished on May 17, 2009.


Offi­cial movie site: syfy.com/caprica

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


The Day the Earth Stood Still (2008)

The Day the Earth Stood Still 2008 movie poster

 

If the least one expects of the 2008 remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still is that it merely ful­fill the promise of its title, then please move right along, for the earth stands still only a few moments. It is, how­ever, a far big­ger pro­duc­tion than the 1951 orig­i­nal directed by Robert Wise (read The Dork Report review), even account­ing for the infla­tion of film­mak­ing tech­nol­ogy and audi­ence expec­ta­tion for spec­ta­cle. As if to over­com­pen­sate for the original’s now admit­tedly amus­ing implau­si­bil­i­ties and the silly giant robot and fly­ing saucer, it tries too hard to impress with too many uncon­nected ideas and exces­sive hus­tle and bus­tle. It’s even rather inap­pro­pri­ately macho, with more uncon­vinc­ing dig­i­tal heli­copters and mil­i­tary hard­ware than a typ­i­cal Michael Bay movie. At least it’s much, much bet­ter than the dis­as­trous Inva­sion (the third offi­cial remake of The Inva­sion of the Bodysnatchers).

It does get off to a good start with a pro­logue in which a lone moun­tain climber (Keanu Reeves) dis­cov­ers a glow­ing orb in 1928 India. The sequence is mys­te­ri­ous and inter­est­ing, but ulti­mately unim­por­tant to the plot. We later learn that the orb was an alien probe that copied the climber’s DNA, from which to grow a sur­ro­gate body for the alien Klaatu (Reeves again) decades later. Even the most basic plau­si­bil­ity is vio­lated as humans dis­sect his alien body with­out bio­suits or any kind of quar­an­tine at all. One won­ders if ear­lier drafts of the screen­play involved Klaatu’s cap­tors ini­tially misiden­ti­fy­ing him as a miss­ing per­son from 1928. A missed oppor­tu­nity would be a scene in which the aged orig­i­nal adven­turer comes face-to-face with an alien mim­ic­k­ing his youth­ful self. But as it stands, this whole sub­plot acts as a dis­trac­tion. The orig­i­nal movie sim­ply pre­sented the alien as humanoid (if a lit­tle unusu­ally tall and angu­lar) and that was enough. The notion of a alien being reborn in a new body is inter­est­ing but an unnec­es­sary com­pli­ca­tion, one that only raises ques­tions unre­lated to the cen­tral themes. Klaatu is lucky his tem­plate was the hand­some Reeves (at one point, he steals a schlumpy guy’s suit and it fits as if it were tai­lored for him). Sup­pos­edly this body is human, but he exerts super­pow­ers includ­ing the trans­mu­ta­tion of elec­tric­ity into some kind of sketchily-described life force. In this respect, the orig­i­nal is bet­ter; Klaatu out­wardly looks like us, period, end of story. Isn’t that enough? Another extra­ne­ous idea, super­flu­ous to the core story: Klaatu’s giant omnipo­tent robot com­pan­ion Gort is now com­prised of a swarm of nanobots. Why have both a giant robot and itsy-bitsy nanobots? Pick one idea and run with it.

Keanu Reeves in The Day the Earth Stood StillKeanu Reeves in The Day the Earth Stood Still

But we’re get­ting ahead of our­selves; first we must ful­fill another genre cliché. The Day the Earth Stood Still lines up after the likes of The Hap­pen­ing, The Day After Tomor­row, A.I.: Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence, Deep Impact, Watch­men, and Clover­field (the list goes on, and on…) to take another stab at dec­i­mat­ing poor New York City. When human­ity detects an uniden­ti­fied object set to strike Man­hat­tan, Dr. Michael Grainer (Man Men’s Jon Hamm) assem­bles a crack team of diverse experts includ­ing astro­bi­ol­o­gist Helen Ben­son (Jen­nifer Con­nelly) to fly around in black heli­copters and gawp help­lessly at all the spe­cial effects. Luck­ily, for the moment at least, the object turns about to be a space­craft. In 1951, alien emis­sary Klaatu (Michael Ren­nie) went to Wash­ing­ton like Mr. Smith. In 2008, this Klaatu fig­ures the place to make a grand entrance is Manhattan’s Cen­tral Park (never mind that the United Nations head­quar­ters is on the East Side). Fans of computer-generated destruc­tion of the sort in which Roland Emmerich traf­fics will be pleased to see Cen­tral Park forcibly land­scaped before the movie is over. Dur­ing the final cli­max in the Park, I’m pretty sure the prin­ci­pals hide under the exact same bridge as the sur­vivors at the end of Cloverfield.

Like the orig­i­nal, it’s cred­ited as being based on the 1940 short story “Farewell to the Mas­ter” by Harry Bates. Its cin­e­matic touch­stones include The Brother From Another Planet and The Man Who Fell to Earth. But it shares a crit­i­cally flawed plot ele­ment with the more recent Watch­men (read The Dork Report review). In the lat­ter, mor­tal hero­ine Silk Spec­tre must con­vince Dr. Man­hat­tan, an ambiva­lent non­hu­man that couldn’t care less, to save the world. Klaatu arrives on Earth to receive the report of an ear­lier agent, who con­firms humans are self destruc­tive by nature. That’s enough for Klaatu to begin to purge the planet, but the agent goes on and tries to impress upon him human’s com­plex­ity. Klaatu is unswayed. Helen and her son Jacob (Jaden Smith, son of Will and Jada Pinkett-Smith) try to do the same and suc­ceed just as Silk Spec­tre did, but in both cases the audi­ence can’t quite under­stand how their argu­ments go through to supe­rior beings one step away from god­hood. Because she’s pretty, and her kid whines so much that Klaatu caved in just to shut him the hell up? Per­son­ally, if I was an alien judg­ing human­ity, and I met such an insanely annoy­ing kid, I would purge the planet too. The movie would merit at least one more Dork Report star if the kid hadn’t been in it.

Jennifer Connelly in The Day the Earth Stood StillJen­nifer Con­nelly in The Day the Earth Stood Still

Jen­nifer Con­nelly is sadly wasted, again. As in Ang Lee’s oth­er­wise under­rated Hulk, she’s rel­e­gated to second-billing below the com­puter effects. The great Kathy Bates fares even worse in a role any­one could have played. As for the leg­endary John Cleese’s cameo as a mad sci­en­tist, I assume the idea was to cast a slightly kooky per­son­al­ity with a British accent to project intel­li­gence to dumb Amer­i­can audi­ences. But the for­merly manic Cleese has mel­lowed out so much in his later years that they could have just cast any old Brit.

The orig­i­nal Day the Earth Stood Still was quite obvi­ously a Cold War para­ble, if a lit­tle mud­dled in its par­tic­u­lars. This ver­sion skirts the pol­i­tics of war, choos­ing instead to recast the basic premise as an eco-parable. Much like M. Night Shyamalan’s Hap­pen­ing (read The Dork Report review), New York’s Cen­tral Park is ground zero for an eco­log­i­cal cat­a­stro­phe. Part of Klaatu’s mis­sion is to save sam­ples of the Earth’s bios­phere, which the Sec­re­tary of Defense (Bates) explic­itly equates to the Bib­li­cal tale of Noah’s Ark.

Wikipedia notes the film was a largely green pro­duc­tion, in which the crew recy­cled or donated props and cos­tumes, and uti­lized a cen­tral intranet to reduce paper waste. But within the story itself, for an alien con­cerned about clean­ing up the Earth, Klaatu is quite con­tent to ride back and forth from Man­hat­tan to New Jer­sey in a gas-guzzling SUV (the man­u­fac­turer of which no doubt pro­vided prod­uct placement).

Finally, some ques­tions: exactly how much of the world is dec­i­mated in the end? How does Klaatu expect human­ity to clean up the planet when he’s already destroyed most of the infra­struc­ture? Imag­ine all the home­less­ness, star­va­tion, chaos, riot­ing, and loot­ing that must be dealt with before any gov­ern­ment could even begin to think about ozone holes or car­bon col­lec­tion. Also, Klaatu’s species has the tech­nol­ogy to dis­in­te­grate all man­made mate­ri­als on an entire planet, but he totally dis­misses out of hand the idea of clean­ing up our pol­lu­tion for us, or at least lend­ing us the tech­nol­ogy? The orig­i­nal Klaatu had more faith in humanity.


Offi­cial movie site: www.dtessmovie.com

Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

The Day the Earth Stood Still 1951 movie poster

 

Robert Wise’s The Day the Earth Stood Still is one of the few essen­tial sci­ence fic­tion movies that has lasted, over­com­ing dated spe­cial effects, act­ing styles, and the end of the Cold War (provider of sub­text for many a hor­ror story). In the com­pany of For­bid­den Planet (Shakespeare’s The Tem­pest in Space), The Blob (an inva­sive species con­sumes the pop­u­la­tion), and Inva­sion of the Body Snatch­ers (small­town Amer­ica suc­cumbs to the ulti­mate con­for­mity), it con­tin­ues to res­onate decades later, even being reimag­ined in 2008 as an ecoparable.

Imme­di­ately strik­ing is the dis­so­nant score by Bernard Her­rmann, of Psy­cho fame. The evoca­tive piece over the open­ing cred­its sounds just like an out­take from Brian Eno’s ambi­ent album On Land, thirty years early.

Michael Rennie as Klaatu in The Day the Earth Stood Stillevi­dently they have Bryl­creem in space

Wise shows us humanity’s first alien con­tact through the quaint fil­ter of period radio and tele­vi­sion; rest assured, “sci­en­tists and mil­i­tary men” are on the case. Klaatu (Michael Ren­nie), a suave cau­casian humanoid male alien, and his pet robot Gort (Lock Mar­tin) park their UFO on a base­ball field on The Mall in Wash­ing­ton D.C. His polite request for an audi­ence with the United Nations goes rebuffed, for dur­ing the height of the Cold War, not even a fly­ing saucer, an alien in a sil­ver jump­suit, and a giant robot is enough to con­vince the nations of the world to sit down and talk. Klaatu’s fly­ing saucer is sur­rounded by hilar­i­ously lax secu­rity, and he is briefly taken into cus­tody before hand­ily escap­ing into the D.C. suburbs.

Klaatu has learned mid-Atlantic accented Eng­lish from radio and tele­vi­sion broad­casts, and out­wardly appears per­fectly humanoid right down to his slicked-back hair (they evi­dently have Bryl­creem in space), so all he needs to blend in with the masses is to sim­ply steal someone’s dry clean­ing. He checks into a spare room, with some shots directly quot­ing Alfred Hitchcock’s 1944 clas­sic The Lodger. He befriends young Bobby (Billy Gray) with­out a hint of sus­pi­cion, dat­ing the film more than any­thing else.

Klaatu tries to get his mes­sage through to a paci­fist sci­en­tist, but he’s dis­cov­ered, shot, and dies. Gort, pro­grammed to acti­vate in such an event, threat­ens to exact an unspec­i­fied vio­lence upon human­ity. But Klaatu has already taught his inter­species ladyfriend Helen (Patri­cia Neal) the robot-mollifying fail-safe code­phrase “Klaatu barada nikto.” Gort ceases his hos­til­i­ties, and instead revives Klaatu using machin­ery on their ship. Klaatu claims his new lease on life is only for a lim­ited time, for true res­ur­rec­tion is only the domain of “the Almighty Spirit”. The remark­able fact that he believes in a God goes unre­marked upon; both he and the humans to whom he’s speak­ing sim­ply take it for granted they’re talk­ing about the same deity. This line stands out for a rea­son; the dia­logue was report­edly inserted at the request of the MPAA, who objected to Klaatu’s god­like pow­ers of res­ur­rec­tion. Fail­ing to reach the world’s lead­ers, he set­tles for the next-best thing: an assem­bled group of sci­en­tists (all, of course, white males). Mes­sage deliv­ered, he leaves Earth in a huff.

Lock Martin as Gort in the Day the Earth Stood StillKlaatu barada nikto! Don’t tase me, bro!

So, let’s recap: an oth­er­worldly vis­i­tor with a mes­sage of peace-or-else is exe­cuted, rises again, and ascends into the heav­ens. Do I have to spell it out?

But if Klaatu is anal­o­gous to Jesus, let’s take a closer look at his mes­sage. He claims Earth­lings’ war­like behav­ior is of no inter­est to the space­far­ing species of the uni­verse, as long as it’s con­tained to one planet. But the inter­stel­lar com­mu­nity is begin­ning to fear that Earth­lings are about to dis­cover inter­stel­lar travel, and they will not per­mit human­ity to bring their atomic weapons with them. Klaatu is the rep­re­sen­ta­tive of other soci­eties that have already passed through this phase, whom, unable to curb their vio­lent impulses on their own, came up with a solu­tion to police them­selves: a fleet of lethal robots pro­grammed to erad­i­cate any­one that vio­lates the truce. So they use weapons to deter the use of other weapons? What kind of mes­sage is that to a Cold War audi­ence liv­ing under the night­mare of Mutu­ally Ensured Destruc­tion? To the 21st Cen­tury viewer, the imme­di­ate worry is whether or not we could ever trust an arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence with impar­tially keep­ing the peace. Indeed, whole sci­ence fic­tion fran­chises have been built upon that very theme, includ­ing 2001, Blade Run­ner, The Ter­mi­na­tor, The Matrix, and Bat­tlestar Galactica.

But per­haps I’m being too lit­eral. It’s a sim­ple movie, but is it a sim­ple anal­ogy? Is the army of Gorts a sym­bol for Earth’s nuclear arse­nal? No, because that’s exactly what Klaatu wants humans to put away. Accord­ing to The New York Times, pro­ducer Julian Blaustein “told the press [the film] was an argu­ment in favor of a ‘strong United Nations.’” But the U.N. is den­i­grated as petty and inef­fec­tive in the movie; they won’t deign to gather to merely lis­ten to Klaatu’s speech. The over­all mes­sage is very cyn­i­cal: even more advanced aliens aren’t able to curb their vio­lent impulses on their own. Klaatu is here to threaten, not save us. If we embark out into space bear­ing weapons, we’re toast.

The Day the Earth Stood Still is based on 1940 short story “Farewell to the Mas­ter” by Harry Bates. Wal­ter Tre­vis’ 1963 novel The Man Who Fell to Earth (filmed in 1976 by Nicholas Roeg, star­ring David Bowie) shares some plot ele­ments (the alien Thomas New­ton too bears dia­monds as seed money), but veers off into another direc­tion alto­gether. New­ton has no inter­est in steer­ing humanity’s course. He’s here on a secret mis­sion to save his own peo­ple, but falls prey to his own all-too-human weaknesses.


Buy the DVD from Ama­zon and kick back a few pen­nies to The Dork Report.


Battlestar Galactica: Caprica

Battlestar Galactica Caprica poster

 

UPDATE: Read our revised and expanded review of the Caprica pilot, writ­ten after the pilot aired on television.

The recently con­cluded series Bat­tlestar Galac­tica (2003–2009) was crit­i­cally acclaimed and much beloved by a rel­a­tively small group of fans and crit­ics that appre­ci­ated the sexy, brainy show’s bleak, pes­simistic view of human­ity. It will cer­tainly live for­ever as a clas­sic achieve­ment in tele­vi­sion, but the com­mon con­sen­sus is that it failed to reach the wide audi­ence it could have. Exec­u­tive Pro­ducer Ron Moore told Vari­ety “‘We had view­ers say that if they were able to trick their wives or girl­friends into watch­ing Galac­tica, they loved it. But with the name Bat­tlestar Galac­tica scream­ing sci­ence fic­tion,’ he adds, ‘there was just such a high hur­dle to get female view­ers to even try it.’” So comes Caprica, a pre­quel osten­si­bly engi­neered from the begin­ning for greater appeal.

The series proper will not air until early 2010, but in an orig­i­nal move, its unrated (read: blood ‘n’ boo­bies) movie-length pilot episode pre­miered day-and-date on DVD and dig­i­tal down­load. It pre­serves some of the sig­na­ture ver­nac­u­lar of its par­ent series: tech­nob­a­b­ble like “Cylon” (Cyber­netic Life­form Node), the trip-on-the-tongue “gods damn it,” the infa­mous euphemism “frak,” and even racial epi­thets like “dirt eater.” The char­ac­ter of Bill Adama (Edward James Olmos in Bat­tlestar Galac­tica) appears as a young boy. Some of the same core themes are still present, par­tic­u­larly reli­gious intol­er­ance and fam­i­lies cop­ing with cat­a­strophic dis­as­ter. But there are sig­nif­i­cantly wor­ri­some signs that indi­cate a fatal mis­cal­cu­la­tion on The SyFy Channel’s part (worse than their aston­ish­ingly stu­pid rechris­ten­ing from “Sci-Fi”): Caprica hinges on two men and three annoy­ing teens, rel­e­gat­ing its only two adult female char­ac­ters to the sidelines.

Eric Stoltz and Esai Morales in Battlestar Galactica CapricaCaprica, like Bat­tlestar Galac­tica, holds that there are no Sur­geon Gen­eral warn­ings in space

It may very well be the case that many women were dis­cour­aged from check­ing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica out, but it’s also true that the show fea­tured a bevy of sig­nif­i­cant, com­plex women: self-destructive fire­brand Star­buck (Katee Sack­hoff), pres­i­dent of all human­ity Laura Roslin (Mary McDon­nell), Dick Cheney-esque war crim­i­nal Cap­tain Cain (Michelle Forbes), and con­flicted Cylons Three (Lucy Law­less), Six (Tri­cia Helfer), and Eight (Grace Park). So far, at least, Caprica includes only two lead female roles, nei­ther of whom fig­ures strongly in the plot: Amanda Gray­stone (Paula Mal­com­son, from Dead­wood) and Sis­ter Clarice Wil­low (Polly Walker, from Rome). But maybe this makes a kind of sense. The core dynamic is clas­sic sto­ry­telling: indus­tri­al­ist Daniel Gray­stone (Eric Stoltz) and lawyer Joseph Adama (Esai Morales) become entan­gled in a plot, while com­ing from oppos­ing philo­soph­i­cal points of view. If one of them had been female, the viewer might nat­u­rally expect a roman­tic sub­plot. Caprica’s cre­ators may have avoided this kind of dis­trac­tion, but the down­side is that the pri­mary nar­ra­tive con­flict is between two men, and the only two female char­ac­ters are solely defined by their rela­tion­ships to their men and kids. Daniel and Amanda’s daugh­ter Zoe (Alessan­dra Tores­sani) is killed in a ter­ror­ist attack, but we never see the icy Amanda mourn as we do Daniel. Her char­ac­ter is sim­ply Daniel’s wife, noth­ing more. Sis­ter Wil­low, at least, is revealed by the end to be more than she seems. Here’s hop­ing we see Amanda and Sis­ter Wil­low sig­nif­i­cantly expanded in future episodes.

Another thing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica got right was to side­step alto­gether the trap of child char­ac­ters. It was an adult show, for intel­li­gent adults. Caprica obvi­ously also didn’t learn from a les­son from Jeri­cho (2006–2008), a gen­er­ally smart show whose weak­est char­ac­ters were a pair of teens that were thank­fully writ­ten out. Out of Caprica’s trio of incred­i­bly annoy­ing kids, at least two die but unfor­tu­nately come back.

Eric Stoltz, Paula Malcomson, and Esai Morales in Battlestar Galactica CapricaWait, there was a woman in Caprica? Let’s hope poor Paula Mal­com­son actu­ally gets some scenes in the full series

The first 10 min­utes pack in a huge down­load of infor­ma­tion, espe­cially for some­one not already versed in the fic­tional Galac­tica uni­verse. Cer­tain key points are reit­er­ated once things slow down later, but a new viewer tun­ing in cold might get the sense they were sup­posed to be versed in all this stuff already, instead of just get­ting teased with a bar­rage of info to be unpacked later. When a title card reads “58 years before The Fall,” Galac­tica fans will catch the ref­er­ence to the sneak attack by the Cylons that nearly erad­i­cates their human creators.

We then cut directly to the deca­dent V Club, imply­ing its late-Rome-like deca­dence to be one of the direct causes of the com­ing Fall. A fully immer­sive vir­tual real­ity sim­u­la­tion not unlike The Matrix, the V Club is full of teens danc­ing to dated techno, hot les­bians, sim­u­lated human sac­ri­fice, and a fight club. Its banal­ity betrays a fail­ure of imag­i­na­tion not just on the part of Caprica’s teens, but also on the film­mak­ers. A rebel­lious gen­er­a­tion cre­ates a vir­tual world in which they can do absolutely any­thing they want, and all they can come up with is a sin­gle night­club that only spins techno from Earth’s 1990s? No gay boys want to make out? Nobody wants to fly? Nobody wants a body made of jade?

The tit­u­lar Caprica is the cap­i­tal of twelve plan­ets col­o­nized by human­ity. We only caught glimpses of its future on Bat­tlestar Galac­tica, so there is plenty of unex­plored ter­ri­tory for a new series to fill in. Its fash­ions resem­ble 1950s Amer­ica, per­haps meant to cap­i­tal­ize on the pop­u­lar­ity of the Show­time series Mad Men. We’re sup­posed to agree that Caprica is a cor­rupt, deca­dent soci­ety on the cusp of col­lapse. But how, exactly? They’re play­ing god(s) by delv­ing into dan­ger­ous tech­no­log­i­cal areas like robotic weapons and arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence, or at least a means of record­ing a human individual’s con­scious­ness into a com­puter. They’ve designed vir­tual real­ity sys­tems capa­ble of sim­u­lat­ing any desire. The soci­ety is racist to the core; Tau­rans (from the colony Tau­rus) are called “dirt eaters” and asso­ci­ated with orga­nized crime (although to be fair, the lat­ter actu­ally is true — they seem sim­i­lar to the immi­grant Sicil­ian mafia in 1920s Amer­ica). Like Michael Cor­leone in the God­fa­ther tril­ogy, Joseph is osten­si­bly an upstand­ing cit­i­zen forced to com­pro­mise with his her­itage. Unable to com­pletely extri­cate him­self from the mob, he tries to raise his son as a Capri­can, to the con­ster­na­tion of his grandmother.

Alessandra Toressani in Battlestar Galactica CapricaZoe, genius hacker, goes club­bing in The Matrix

This society’s most dan­ger­ous trait is its ingrained reli­gious intol­er­ance. The pop­u­la­tion is almost uni­formly poly­the­is­tic, and intol­er­ant of the minor­ity monothe­ists. Under­ground mil­i­tants have formed the Sol­diers of the One, a cult that believes in a com­bi­na­tion of monothe­ism and anti-science. Their rep­re­sen­ta­tive Sis­ter Wil­low manip­u­lates ter­ror­ist tot Ben (Avan Jogia) to stage a bombing.

The biggest addi­tion to the Bat­tlestar Galac­tica mythos is a deeper look into arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence. Like the Ter­mi­na­tor fran­chise, I appre­ci­ate Caprica’s empha­sis that devel­op­ing arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence is a sep­a­rate pur­suit than build­ing robots. Too many sci­ence fic­tion sto­ries seem to equate the two, includ­ing Bat­tlestar Galac­tica itself in its final episode. The Day the Earth Stood Still and For­bid­den Planet’s humanoid robots have minds of its own, but what about being robots makes them so, as opposed to immo­bile com­put­ers? Blade Runner’s repli­cants and A.I.‘s boy robots look human first, and it is never asked what exactly makes them sen­tient beings (unless the ques­tion is how we anthro­po­mor­phize things that out­wardly seem human). Arti­fi­cial intel­li­gence is almost always auto­mat­i­cally evil in movies such as Ter­mi­na­tor and 2001: A Space Odyssey. It is rarely inher­ently inno­cent, as in A.I.: Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence. Caprica fea­tures two dis­turb­ing scenes of a human con­scious­ness wak­ing up trapped in a crude robot body. That’s called overeg­ging your pud­ding. Also creepy: the advances made by Zoe lead directly to Daniel’s clumsy war­rior robots becom­ing the effec­tive killing machines chris­tened Cylons.

Speak­ing of, how could a lumi­nary in the robot­ics busi­ness not know his own daugh­ter was a genius hacker? A par­tic­u­larly hard-to-swallow bit of tech­nob­a­b­ble is the repeated sta­tis­tic that the amount of data encoded in a human brain com­prises only 300 megabytes. Appar­ently work­ing on her own, Zoe comes up with the solu­tion to pre­serv­ing a human mind in a com­puter: sup­ple­ment that 300 MB of data with the dig­i­tal detri­tus that per­son has left behind: med­ical records, playlists, email, searches, etc. Her break­through allows Daniel to res­ur­rect Joseph’s late daugh­ter as well (although we don’t see how he obtained her 300 MB worth of brain mat­ter). The resul­tant dupli­cate quickly goes insane, so Zoe is some­how spe­cial, the only dig­i­tal human mind that doesn’t go mad.

Some awfully big events are revealed in the DVD edition’s deleted scenes: Adama learns early on that Zoe was involved in the bomb­ing, adding an extra dimen­sion to his inter­ac­tions with her father. Also, boy bomber Ben’s mind was also suc­cess­fully uploaded into the V Club by Sis­ter Wil­low, sug­gest­ing that Zoe might not be so unique after all, and that her sci­en­tic break­throughs may have been in part devel­oped by the Sol­diers of the One. Both of these strike me as great lay­ers of com­plex­ity that would have only added to the story.


Offi­cial movie site: www.scifi.com/caprica

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