Thursday, December 4, 2008

33

I saw this episode before I saw the miniseries (Netflix screw up - in fact it was actually more tha a year before I saw the miniseries, after I finally decided to buy Season One myself). I'm bringing this up because I thought I had missed something the first time I saw this episode - that "33" started immediately from where the miniseries left off.

After I saw the miniseries I realized this was a deliberate choice. Viewers are dropped into the middle of a desperate situation and then learn how the main characters behave under extreme stress.

It says a lot about the writing, editing, and directing that you can figure out quickly what is happening. "33" opens with a series of scenes that quickly cut back and forth between Gaius Baltar's thoughts, vipers shooting out the tubes flown by pilots who are obviously having trouble concentrating, the CIC where Tigh is slapping a soldier on the back to keep him awake, and the deck where everyone is watching the clock. This series of scenes take about 2 to 3 minutes. When the Cylons do arrive we see multiple clocks, digital and analog, showing that time is up (This sequence actually reminds me a little of the pendulum clock in "High Noon.").

In other words, I didn't know much less than anyone who had seen the miniseries knew.

"33" is, without question, the best episode of Season 1, precisely because of this tension and the way the characters' reactions reveal their nature.

OK, to quote Callie, "Why 33?" My first instinct (which reveals my advanced age) is that it is referencing LPs that play at 33-1/3 RPM. Beyond that 33 is divisible by only 2 numbers, 3 and 11 (1 and 33 don't count). 3 and 11 are very cool prime numbers and I am not a geek for thinking this. I remember hearing George Burns say in an interview that 7 is a very funny number. So there.

My only quibble with the episode is that it is simply not possible for the crew to go 5 days running without sleep - they must have had some down time or else they would be incapable of functioning. As Baltar said, "there are limits...." Trust me, I know what I am talking about. When our twin sons were infants they did not sleep at the same time, and I went for about 3 months getting 3-4 hours of sleep at night but only about 45 minutes at one time, which meant that I got little or no REM sleep. Going without sleep is pure torture (although not, apparently, if you are working for the Bush administration interrogating suspected terrorists).

There are two scenes that stand out in my mind. Tigh falling asleep sitting on a sofa in the middle of a conversation with Adama is probably my favorite, but there is also, as usual, a lot of background detail. I especially like one scene in the CIC, while Adama is talking to Tigh, you can see right behind Adama a guy wearing a headset, slumped over fast asleep.

This episode has one of my all-time favorite scenes - Starbuck refusing to take stims. Lee tries to wheedle her into obeying and she bursts out with this speech telling Lee in no uncertain terms how she thinks he should be handling her insubordination. They stand glaring at each other for a short pause that goes just a millisecond longer than is comfortable, ratcheting up the tension a little bit, before they burst out laughing. This dialogue reveals a lot about Kara. The scene also gets a little more texture when Kara glares at the Chief, who has witnessed the exchange, and says "What" and he just rolls his eyes and walks away. The whole exchange is pitch perfect. 

I watched this episode again after Season 4.0 ended, and I was struck by the tentative nature of Roslin's and Adama's relationship in the beginning. At this point they are strangers who have been thrown together by circumstance and now share the burden of protecting what is left of the human race. In this episode they are on separate ships and all their conversations are by radio. In the middle of a discussion about the tactical situation (bad) there's a surprisingly intimate moment. After a pause in the conversation Roslin tentatively asks, "Are you there?" and Adama says, "Yeah."

Galactica has a special resonance in the post-9/11 world. Even in the midst of this exhausting crisis people are trying to find loved ones, and Roslin is trying to get an accurate count of the number of survivors. When Dualla tries to hand over photos of her family to track them down, she is instructed to post them on a wall. As she walks down the long corridor to post the photos she (and by extension we) is overwhelmed by the number of pictures posted, the makeshift memorials, and the messages to the dead. The photos include pictures of babies and children, as well as adults, and convey the remorseless nature of the losses. The camera holds still as she walks further down the corridor, until she is a small figure turning around in confusion, stunned by the magnitude of the catastrophe as expressed in the pictures of lost family members. These types of memorials and photo montages sprang up all over New York within hours of the collapse of the World Trade Center, and became synonymous with the event. Galactic is deliberately recreating these to provide a symbol we can recognize and use to provide a context for the apocolyptic events the characters have survived.

Galactica returns to this corridor periodically so that the viewer never forgets why the ship is wandering in space with no place to go home to. In the last episode of Season 4, when they do find earth, the scene cuts to Starbuck in that same corridor, looking at the photo of a lost pilot, and behind her is a woman standing in a different part of the corridor, crying while she presumably looks at pictures of lost loved ones.

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