Arm and/or tattoo porn. Mmmmm.
Or as the Chorus Leader inAntigone puts it: “The maid shows
herself passionate child of passionate sire, and knows not how to bend
before troubles.” (Antigone means “unbending.”) And since we’re talking
about Kara, the Chorus of Theban Elders later says: “Still the same
tempest of the soul vexes this maiden with the same fierce gusts.”
There are a lot of creepy old men in this episode doing creepy old
things. Some — most — justified, but creepy nonetheless. I likeAntigone
because what it amounts to, basically, is one girl, just a normal girl,
standing up to a chorus (and a series) of creepy old men, and telling
them to fuck off. Because she knows what’s right.
Spoilers within, per usual.
OH HOLY SHIT. CALLY.
I mean, I understand it, Tory’s the scary one. Tory’s the one who was all, “Whatever you need, Madam President, I’ll steal you your election, whatever, just give me a head nod and I’ll blow this whole place to kingdom come and you won’t even have to know.” Tory’s the one who doesn’t know what this is about. For Sam, it’s about Starbuck and for Tigh it’s about Bill but Tory? Tory’s the one I wouldn’t walk down a dark alley with because she’ll kill a man on Galactica just to watch him die. Tory scares the fuck out of me, flailing around, fracking Baltar, fracking Sam, maybe (in my head and in the fanfic) fracking Laura, not knowing what the hell is up on any given Tuesday.
The Cylons are tearing themselves apart the way the humans did in the beginning of the show, all of this has happened before and all of this will happen again. We make the same mistakes over and over and dress them up in different clothes. This show has always been brilliant for one reason: It takes everything you think you know and makes it incomprehensible. Humans, lovable, righteous, Our Plastic Stand-Ins in the War on Terra? They’re suicide bombers and secret airlock-ers, when they’re not outright torturing people for fun and/or profit. Admiral Cain, batshit crazy lunatic lady who was the polar opposite of our beloved Admiral Adama, was somebody trying to get by as best she could and you tell me what you’d have done in her place. The Cylons, mechanized, lockstep, terrifying in the beginning for their inexorable march all together toward your destruction, now splintered and splitting, scared, burning each other down while the humans are off on the horizon, almost out of sight, almost forgotten. The moral of the story: Never say you know for sure what you’d do in situation X, because you have no fracking idea.
Quick takes. The adorable: Bill reading to Laura, especially such a trashy-sounding formulaic faux-noir novel. My heart just exploded from the cute. While we’re on the subject of High-Powered HAWT, can I just say I love that they can shift back and forth now, between being pissed at each other about work and being cute in private? They weren’t so good at that, always, that delicate, “Honey, I love you, but I need to kick your ass now” dynamic that grown-ups achieve. The horrifying: Cally. I really thought she’d killed the Chief for a second there, and what maybe scared me more is that I couldn’t really blame her. What happens when “my husband is having an affair” is the LEAST fucked up of the options on the table? I’d hit him with a wrench, too.
Kara, Kara, Kara. And Sam. And Kara and Sam. Seelix? GAETA? Helo on that ship didn’t surprise me but fucking A, Gaeta sure did. She tried to have him airlocked, for fuck’s sake. Is this one of the twelve steps or something? Right after stabbing Baltar in the neck with a pen, he signs on to Kara Thrace’s Magical Mystery Tour? Maybe Helo ordered him, in which case Helo is just my kind of asshole, but if he volunteered, that’s … something. While we’re on the subject of something, Jesus, Lee, be a little more of a tool, why don’t you? Lampkin’s tool, Zarek’s tool, it’s not that you’re wrong, it’s that you’re obviously their automobile on the road to hell (maybe heaven, whatever, still, you’re a fucking Buick). Stop getting played. It’s pissing me off.
Cottle continues to be made of win. And there is not enough ICKY OMG YUCK BLECH in the world for that Boomer/Cavil makeout session. Her daddy issues are just too painful, plus the whole February-December of Next Model vibe. I’d rather watch Baltar frack Hotdog than ever see that again.