WELCOME, WELCOME to another exciting installment of pW's wacky adventures! In store tonight: Lost, Lost, and random thoughts... about Lost. Tonight I return from a long hiatus, and we're going to start things off a little lite with a write-up of LOST SEASON 5's 5 TOP MOMENTS SO FAR. Sentences will be typed. Paragraphs will be broken. Tears will be shed.

Well, maybe that's just me -- I was rewatching The Two Towers last night and for some unforseen reason the Ents' march on Isengard really got me, more than even usual. What can I say? I'm a sucker for selfless sacrifice of the epic variety. And here he is making this great speech looking out somewhere into the distance with this proud look in his eyes... and he knows he's probably going to die, but if his death can make a difference, Colonel Tighbeard is prepared to ...

Erm. Right. Treebeard.

This blog's gone without an entry for some time, and we've had quite a few episodes of Lost since then. Last we chatted, The Little Prince, episode #4, had just aired. Since then have come and gone This Place is Death, 316, The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham, LaFleur, Namaste, He's Our You, Whatever Happened, Happened, and now Dead is Dead.

I'd like to take a moment to ask "what the hell is up with the episode titles this season?" (Let's not forget the infamous season premiere, Because You Left / The Lie) This is by far the most uninspired assortment of episode names to ever grace a Lost season. "This Place is Death"? "He's Our You"? "Whatever Happened, Happened?"? "Dead is Dead"?

REALLY? Half of these aren't even relevant to the episodes they come from. The other half sound plain stupid. Just because one of your characters said something in an episode is not a reason to name the episode after that single (UNCATCHY) phrase. Has Lost grown so in love with its own completeness that it feels no outside symbolism to be required?

Instead of "Dead is Dead," I suggest "All Along the Temple." Instead of "Whatever Happened, Happened," -- "All of this has Happened Before, and all of it will Happen Again." Instead of "He's Our You," -- "My Name is Sayid Jarrah; I am a torturer. Whatever else I am, whatever else it Means, that's the man I want to be."

Errr. Where is this coming from?!

But I digress.

I promised LITENESS for this reunion, and I'm getting away from that. But I know just the thing to set the mood... in case you haven't seen it yet -- I know I hadn't:

I feel kinda bad for the Lost cast. It's one of the best looking casts on TV -- by far -- and they're usually stuck wearing grimy, dirty clothes, running around sporting eternal five o'clock shadows, their faces streaked with mud. Evie's gorgeous, there's no denying it -- but I'll always remember the first time she really floored me. It was in the season 4 episode Eggtown where she's taken to court and gets to walk around in high heels and a suit. And all I could think was "Who's going to get fired for stranding this girl on an island for four seasons?"

LOST SEASON 5's TOP 5 TO DATE

#5 -- "You'll never ask me that question again." ("316")

Kate's been getting quite a bit of props lately, due, in no small part, to the responsibilities she's undertaken. In other words, in more of a behind-the-scenes approach, after five seasons the writers have finally figured out how to take advantage of Evangeline Lilly's talents other than as a dashing damsel in distress.

But a lot of that props needs to go where it's deserved -- Evangeline Lilly herself. She's come a long way since season 1, and this single scene highlights that like no other. Her performance is tired, sad, frightened, and somehow resolute. Her vulnerability is haunting, and doubters will be forced to eat their words.

Nevermind the fact that none of Whatever Happened, Happened's numerous explanations to the numerous mysteries of the last half-season lived up to high expectations -- while Ms. Lilly is on-screen, all those insignificant details are going to be far, far from your mind.

#4 -- "The fact that John Locke is walking around this island... scares the living hell out of me." ("Dead is Dead")

On its own, the scene seems hardly significant. Yes, Ben doesn't know what's going on with John, but really -- who does? That's not surprising. Oh, yes, there's more. He also happens to be saying the exact opposite of what he told John at the beginning of this episode ("I knew it would work!").

Even so, it's both of those things combined with the mindgames Ben plays on everyone throughout the entire episode that make this a stand-out moment. Never before has the audience borne such intimate witness to Ben's manipulations, following him as he contradicts himself from scene to scene, deliberately playing the characters against one another.

Last we chatted, I attempted to nail down the problems with the structure of this new Lost season. I can see now how close I was ("Lack of Over-Arching Premise," I called it)... but it would take an example of just what we had been missing all this time to show me the error of my ways. What was this mystery ingredient?

BEN. Aka, some grand antagonistic force. For the first time this season, we have an antagonist who threatens our characters ("The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham" gets a pass because his intentions were so vague), and watching his duplicity unfold from scene to scene is terrifying. The power this man has with his mind and words alone is staggering.

Unfortunately, with his Deus Ex Machina-inspired heel-face turn (translation: ghost of Alex past tells him, "I shall do unto ye as you do unto this Holy Man.") it looks like his presence will be gone as swiftly as it came -- but that steals no thunder from the power of these scenes.

#3 -- "We're not going to Guam, are we?" ("316")

All it takes these guys is a single episode to deconstruct an entire season. From the brilliant opening which parallels directly the first scene of the show to the number of role-reversals undertaken by the characters, it's all exercised with the precision of genius. But it takes this scene to really drive the message home.

They're walking into Ajira 316... and then the music starts. The same music that played during the fateful boarding of Oceanic 815 back in Exodus, the season 1 finale. Except now the notes are disjointed, confused, as if they realize that this is only some twisted, warped mirror image of the earlier scene -- that so many things are terribly wrong, that this time there is nothing innocent about the planecrash we know must come.

Sayid in Kate's handcuffs. Sun's toying with Jin's wedding ring -- so much like Rose. Ben's last-minute arrival, a copy of Hurley's. And Jack... Jack, who has taken five seasons to become the John Locke of the pilot. The music acknowledges all of these references, but echoes our suspicions about the dark complexity of the characters' circumstance.

In a show whose greatness stems from the power of reversed perspectives, the episode 316 -- and the boarding scene in particular -- may stand to be one of its greatest moments.

#2 -- "Charlotte. . ." ("LaFleur")

It's interesting that it would take so long for a show based on the idea of the "inevitable" so long to address it once again so bluntly (for original bluntness see "Flashes Before Your Eyes). Recall that Lost's pilot started with Jack being stranded on an island, helping people survive this terrible ordeal... and then flashed immediately back to what had happened on the plane.

But we know the plane is going to crash. We've known that from the first minutes of the show. By all rights, the scenes should be worthless -- and yet they are jam-packed full of detail and character and plot, and despite the 'inevitability' of what will come, they are necessary.

Some moments rise above necessity into greatness. Exodus, the first season finale, flashes back to the boarding of Oceanic 815, and the innocence of these strangers sharing a space for what is only meant to be some 8 hours of their life, never to meet again, is contrasted sharply, beautifully, with everything that has happened since. There's no dialogue, no plot twists, as Jack and Locke share a polite nod and smile -- yet the gesture is powerful.

And here we have Daniel, a brilliant man whose heart and brain could not be more at odds. He understands better than anyone else that "whatever happened, happened" and that if Charlotte remembers him warning her to stay away from the island as a baby, he has no choice but to play out the part that has been written for him. And yet his heart tells him blindly, "I won't do it. I won't do it," as he repeats the words over and over again to Juliet and Sawyer in the beginning of the episode.

And then he sees her.

It is a moment of perfect contrast. The music swells up and Daniel's voicing of her name, filled at once with hope and despair, serves as the only narration the imagery requires. The beautiful naivete of an innocent young girl is set against the dark, complete understanding of the man who will VAINLY try to save her life. She dances around, full of life and in a bright red dress, against a black night background that reminds us of her tragic fate.

#1 -- "We're all convinced sooner or later." ("316")

Ben: "Thomas the Apostle. When Jesus wanted to return to Judea, knowing that he would probably be murdered there, Thomas said to the others, "Let us also go there and we might die with him." But Thomas was not remembered for this bravery. His claim to fame came later when he refuses to acknowledge the resurrection. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it. The story goes that he needed to touch Jesus wounds to be convinced."

Jack: "So was he?"

Ben: "Of course he was. We are all convinced sooner or later, Jack."

I'm not a religious man; I'm not even very familiar with the Bible. And here is an account that had me on the edge of my seat, and stands head and shoulders above its competition as the greatest moment, so far, of Lost season 5.

You come to another show and say... "Okay, let's try something deep and complex. Let's try a perspective-reversal." They're going to freak out. These things are dangerous. Then you continue, "The perspective we're reversing is the Bible, and the popular understanding of it by the masses."

Lost doesn't balk at the idea -- it rises to the occasion with enthusiasm and gusto. It is a subtle, beautiful allegory, brilliantly written, that perfectly encapsulates the changed nature of Jack's and Locke's relationship. Always before Jack has had the upper edge, and here, he is the doubter, he is the skeptic. Jack is forced to contend with the truth -- that all this time, he has been causing grief and anguish and suffering to the man he has now come to believe was right all along.

For so long, John Locke has sought Jack's acceptance -- their experience in the Hatch stands as a monument to this, from start to finish -- and now the protagonist and Hero of this story, can do nothing but acknowledge how wrong he has been. He is speechless. He is humbled.

But we're not angry with Jack, we sympathize with him, and therein lies the true beauty of Lost's triumph. These characters are real people, and the circumstances they contend with, while superficially surreal and fantastic, are only tools that allow the writers to wade deep into that complexity and show off their genius.

It's both ironic and fitting that the moment of John Locke's ascendance to the greatness of seasons 1 and 2 be a moment in which he is not present... and yet, his influence is felt more deeply, more intimately than his face could have done if it had graced the screen. I've argued that since season 2, there have been two instances where John Locke was truly written as he used to be -- "The Man Behind the Curtain" and "The Beginning of the End." Unlike Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, most writers struggle with this weighty character and the complexity he brings to the show.

And here, through the acting of Michael Emerson and Matthew Fox, through the music of Michael Giacchino, through the writing of the Head Honchoes that do it all, everything comes together. Jack has seen the error of his ways, and he stands now where John Locke stood at the beginning of this series.

There is only one question...

If this is where Jack's journey has taken him... where does that leave John Locke after his own?

On the Horizon:

You may have noticed my inability to focus completely on Lost. That's because one of my favorite shows of all time recently ended, and I've been kind of avoiding that topic, lest this reunion get too serious too quickly. Now, I'm not going to name the show tonight, but rest assured that I'll address the Battlephant in the room next we meet.

Also in store, more in-depth reviews of all Lost episodes so far... and... what? Well, I'm open to suggestions! If you've got some topic that you think deserves a more than cursory overview, feel free to share, and if it's my cup of tea I just might bite.

Also make sure to let me know if you agree or disgaree with my top five picks, and why! Go ahead and post up some of your faves.

Thanks for tuning in... we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

-pW

And here we finally are, in the second installment of the critiques on two new seasons of TV! Last week we took apart Battlestar Galactica and this week we're going to do the same with Lost, comparing the new season to arcs from the past, as well as using this understanding to foresee complications in the season-at-hand.

LOST

Because You Left/The Lie

In contrast to Battlestar's emotional rollercoaster (one that only knows to descend), Lost pulls out its strangest outing yet. But there was a time when Flashes Before Your Eyes had been the strangest outing yet, and a season later it was replaced by The Constant, both of which are two of the most praised episodes of the series. Those episodes managed such acclaim by combining mind-bending twists and puzzles with the simplest of relatable experiences -- despair (at not being able to re-write history or, seemingly, save Charlie), heartbreak (losing Penny), humiliation (not standing up to Charles Widmore, her father), and a sweeping romance that transcends both time and space. And I know I don't need to give a bracketed explanation for that one.

The episodes are enjoyable for their inventiveness, but the reason they are so memorable is due to their immediately relatable dramatic power. Despite the crazy, unpredictable nature of the episodes themselves, the urgency comes from something totally simple: Charlie's fate and Desmond's epic love life, and Desmond's fate and Desmond's epic love life, respectively. The former characters, both fan favourites are placed in immediate jeopardy, which provides the necessary gut-wrenching oomph factor, and the latter, well, it's Desmond's epic love life. What else needs be said?

And here we are with the Season 5 premiere, which is the weirdest story yet told on Lost. The problem is that there is absolutely no identifiable urgency -- none of the main characters seem to be in any actual danger (it's only at the very end of Jughead that Charlotte, a tertiary character, keels over), and nothing important is at stake. Having come away from FBYE or The Constant, we can see and feel the oozing character progression -- while the Season 5 premiere feels as though it is just another adventure that the whole gang is going through.

There is nothing dramatic at stake, apart from Daniel's attempts to be very dire while he remains as vague as is humanly possible. Even if we take the plot progression of Jughead into account (which is giving the premiere too much credit), do I honestly believe that John Locke or Sawyer are in danger of getting nose bleeds and keeling over just like Charlotte? And if that's exactly what's going to happen, let me tell you, that should have been what started the entire season.

There are lots of memorable moments throughout the premiere, from Sayid's revelation that he is no longer working for Ben (for whatever horrible reason), to Ana Lucia's beautiful cameo, to Hurley ironically standing up to Ben the one time he should not have done so. Sawyer's darkness is compelling, as he believes the freighter to be truly gone, and Daniel's finally having an opportunity to come into his own on the show, which couldn't make me happier. And Carmen Reyes saying, "I believe you. I don't understand you, but I believe you" might have been the most moving moment in the premiere. These are all wonderful things, and the episodes were thoroughly enjoyable.

Season 5 makes me put together an intriguing puzzle of whys and hows and whos and especially whens, but I wouldn't imagine to place it on my list of top twenty episodes for the show, because there is no emotional anchor to connect to -- the premiere is so scattered all over the place, chronologically, spatially, and even thematically -- that there is nothing to hang on to. No single interaction to make the entire experience truly gut-wrenching and compelling, as the greatest episodes of Lost have been.

And knowing what Lost's been capable of in the past, I can't help feeling more than a little disappointed... and expecting more. Before anyone suggests that my expectations were simply unreasonably high, I will say that The Beginning of the End, the season 4 premiere (and the first season premiere I saw live), blew me away despite the fact that I had been inadvertantly spoiled about the Oceanic Six. The splits between Hurley and Jack, Jack and Locke, and, more importantly, the Jackies and the Lockies were powerful, powerful stuff, and dealing with the aftermath of Charlie's death (especially Dominic Monaghan's brilliant cameo) raised the episode above and beyond anything I could have expected.

7/10 (7.5 for Because You Left, 6.5 for The Lie)

Jughead

Unfortunately, the dip in quality only becomes more evident in Jughead, the Desmond-centric third episode of the season. Last week's show centered almost exclusively on three of my favorite characters -- Desmond, Daniel, and John Locke. With the exception of the newcomer, both Desmond and Locke are well known for being able to carry entire episodes and lift them above merely "yet another phenomenal episode." And yet with such a powerhouse combination, with a moving start and an intriguing conclusion, the episode is mostly filled with dragging filler.

What went wrong? Desmond spends most of the episode running around on a wild goose chase -- and as captivating as Henry Ian Cusick may be to watch, that isn't very dramatic television.

The show starts promisingly, telling us that Desmond and Penelope have had a child and settled down away from the public spotlight. The scene between Desmond and Charlie (an inspired name) is ****c Lost, as Desmond makes us believe he's talking about returning to the Island, only to emphasize the dramatic importance of his return to... Britain!

But that inspiration appears only in spurts. Juliet's cracks about life as an Other are more than a little too tongue-in-cheek, bordering on the distasteful, and until the very end of the episode, only Daniel's speech to Richard, finally describing his feelings for Charlotte, and John's audacious, cleverly-plotted attempts to convince Richard to help him, aim to impress.

Most disappointing is Desmond's scene with Charles Widmore, standing in stark contrast to a similar meeting in FBYE. The original was a biting, chilling scene, and Widmore's lines: "What you're not is worthy of drinking my whiskey. How could you ever be worthy of my daughter?" are some of the most powerful, memorable lines to be uttered on Lost. And yet the scene in Jughead is more than underwhelming; emotionally shallow and written far beneath what we've come to expect from an actor like Alan Dale, who can deliver such meaty material when it is given him.

In season 1, the third episode (Walkabout) was the one that made me fall in love with John Locke, Terry O'Quinn, and assured me that this show would be like no other. To date it's one of the most dramatic reveals Lost has ever done. By comparison, Jughead isn't even very entertaining, let alone emotionally provocative, and I can't in good faith give it a respectful score. It does get some bonus points for making Cabin Fever better in retrospect, and you can check out what I thought of Cabin Fever and its reflection on Season 4 John Locke right over here.

7.5/10

Season Five Onward

And now that we've gotten the last few episodes' issues out of the way, we can finally attempt to foresee what they mean for the show's future.

Lack of Centric Episodes. The show is moving away from traditionally centric episodes, and the effects of that change can already be felt. The premiere had to focus on approximately 20 different characters with 100 different goals and objectives, and while I love that this sort of complexity exists to be found, it is not very conducive to a single dramatically compelling narrative. Because You Left/The Lie, as a result, tried to do too much, and instead did very little of true significance.

What this means for the future. If this is indicative of Season 5 at large, and the huge cast and the different situations the characters are in, all requiring attention, suggest that to be true -- we can kiss good-bye episodes such as FBYE, The Constant, and Meet Kevin Johnson, which gave a single character center stage to steal the show and impress the audience, and gave us a single powerful narrative to blow us away.

Lack of Over-arching Premise. Up to the end of Season 4, no matter what episode we were watching, we knew that every little trivial detail that wasn't a Flashback (and even some of those) was all leading up to something dramatic and powerful -- escape from the Island. That was always the big picture, and now that that single over-arching big picture is missing (every character is trying to do about five things at once -- some want to return to the island, others want to get off, others don't even care about the island but are out doing their own things), it can't be helped that single installments feel like filler. My brain knows that there's only one more Season after this, but my heart tells me that with a premise like the Time Traveling Adventures of Sawyer & Juliet, they could drag it out to a hundred episodes if they wanted to, and I still wouldn't be sure what the great purpose was.

What this means for the future. The show is going to struggle to tie the characters together somewhere around the half-season mark, but until then, viewers may struggle along with it. If there is no single over-arching premise, it becomes increasingly difficult to judge whether an episode has actually advanced the plot at all, or has simply been running in the same spot. And if a viewer can't sit back after an episode and say, "Whoo! So much happened to advance the plot!" because they don't know the direction the plot is going and if the advance has really been critical or trivial, they aren't going to feel the same sort of high forcing them to come back next week.

Lack of Compelling Drama. There hasn't been a single conversation in these three episodes that could hope to stand toe to toe with Lost's finest, from Desmond's belittling at the hands of Charles Widmore, to Locke and Ben's verbal chess-games in The Man From Tallahassee, to Ben hopelessly trying to prevent Alex's murder in The Shape of Things to Come, to Jughead's equivalent Walkabout, with John crying "You can't do this to me, this is my destiny; this was supposed to be my destiny. Don't tell me what I can't do. Don't tell me what I can't do, ever!" to... well, any number of things from earlier seasons, which I could spend the entire evening going over and over and still not list them all. It's as simple as the writers having to step the game up a notch, and to do that, they're going to have to amp up the urgency and spike up the drama.

What this means for the future. I just don't think that Charlotte's mystery illness is going to cut it. We have half of the main cast on the Island right now, including John, Daniel, Sawyer, and Juliet, and their battles are so unrelatable, so fantastical, so lacking a simple human connection and anchor, that the actors won't be able to bring the same sort of ferocity to the table. Unless the writers figure out how to start pitting our beloved characters against one another, and fast, and draw some relatable emotions out of them through compelling situations, it's just going to be hour after hour of enjoying, intriguing entertainment -- but nothing more. Even the episodes' titles have reflected this underwhelmingness, from the uninspired and generic "Because You Left" and "The Lie" to the barely-relevant "Jughead," which could have worked for a greater episode, but here does nothing.

AND WITH THAT we're just about to head into Lost Season 5's fourth installment, The Little Prince, which I've torn away from for a moment to finish this! Even the title is hopeful in the connection it makes, so let's go and see how this turns out...!

First, let's take a moment to celebrate the arrival of two of the small screen's finest! It's been a slow TV year getting here, but we're finally moving at two excellent episodes per week, and that's a great pace to move at.

And then let's get to the nitty-gritty... the first part of this review focuses on Battlestar Galactica, specifically the way it contrasted one of its finest moments with one of its greatest falls from grace.

BATTLESTAR GALACTICA

Sometimes a Great Notion

This is one of the greatest episodes BSG has done to date. In a single hour, they manage to deconstruct the show to its very core. Characters who've been confident throughout the show's run, in themselves and their missions -- Adama, Lee, Roslin, Kara, Leoben, D'Anna -- have that confidence wickedly stripped away from them, either with the discovery of Earth, or with watching what that discovery does to their friends and loved ones. Answers come at a breakneck speed, revealing more about the show's mysteries than the entirety of season 1 combined. Even the format of the episode is changed (there's too much to do; not enough time for the typical episode intro).

It's all done with brutal precision and confidence in the show's technique -- Dee's suicide, foreshadowed, still comes out of nowhere and hits those who have remained optimistic hardest. The flashbacks to the lives of the Final Four are picture-esque paintings of a world gone-by. Tyrol, a sophisticated man, walks around a beautiful, color-filled city street; Saul Tigh's vision juxtaposes his search for his beloved as he wades deeper and deeper into the waves, all to a rising, swelling melody (a simple, new rendition of his theme) that ends the episode on a mysteriously hopeful note -- the realiziation that him and Ellen are destined to be together, and may yet be reunited in the future.

But the true beauty of the show is in its performances. Everybody's brought their A game to Sometimes a Great Notion, but Mary McDonnell and Edward James Olmos stand out, the latter delivering an Emmy-worthy performance as he finally breaks down in Tigh's quarters, delivering some of the most memorable, gripping lines of the show's run.

"Is that how it works? They programmed you to be my friend, all the qualities I respect? Hahaha! You tell me jokes... I LAUGH AT THEM?!" He's laughing, genuinely, but it's a frightening kind of laughter, and after everything we've been through along his side, it's heartwrenching.

9.75/10

A Disquiet Follows My Soul

And then you have a disaster of remarkable proportions, like this episode, which really makes you question if the writers of this show have any idea, at all, what they're doing. It speaks to the horror of what's on the screen when the best thing to say about this episode is: "The season would have been ten times better if it simply disappeared from existence." The problems are far too numerous to count, but I'll make an attempt anyway.

Why the creators of the show would imagine that a political plot between Gaeta (a secondary character at best) and Tom Zarek (most definitely a tertiary one) would be interesting enough to hold our attention for an hour is mind-boggling. We are not invested in these characters enough to care so deeply, and attempting to (re-)characterize Gaeta now in season 4 by pitting him against characters we like (Adama, Tigh, and Kara) is all the wrong ways to do it.

But let's say they want to split the Fleet anyway, since this is good drama, right? And mutinies are always interesting, right? Then don't show it from a mile away. This is TV 101. Battlestar can get so wrapped up in showing how everything happens that they remove any iota of drama that could have been gleaned out of it. I was watching the previews for the next episode -- with Gaeta staging a mutiny in the CIC -- and the only thing I could think of was that that would have made a much better episode this week. Not only would they have skipped a lot of boring, terrible dialogue had they skipped this episode's events entirely, they would have also made the next episode's events that much more exciting because they would have been a plot-twist.

These problems are all compounded by horrible writing. Every second line that comes out of Gaeta's mouth is so bad I can't believe it was written into the script ("A pity frak's out of the question?!" he shouts), and his whole rant about how he almost died at the hands of the Evil Cylons & Wife in season 3 had me waiting for Kara's reply: "Yeah, and those are the same people that lead the Resistance and made sure you got off of New Caprica alive you ungrateful SOB." That would have put things in perspective... but it would also highlight the inconsistency in turning the likable Felix Gaeta into a ranting, raving lunatic.

And let's not forget Tyrol's part in this episode, which is a retcon of laughable proportions which only serves to make DIFFERENT scenes make no sense. Okay, so they didn't know back in season 3 when Chief and Cally had a baby that he'd be a Cylon, and that a half-Cylon child would take away from Hera's thunder. So now they have to retcon away that Tyrol's not Nicky's real dad (can someone get Maury?), emphasizing their earlier mistake by this crappy resolution. As if that's not bad enough, now Cally's attempt to airlock the baby in season 4 makes even less sense -- it was always questionable that she would try to kill herself instead of alerting the Fleet (at least before killing herself), but we could rationalize it by a desire to not confront the shame of bearing a half-Cylon child. But wait, she knew all this time that Nicky was human? So her first instinct was to go and kill a perfectly fine baby when she found out there were Cylon stowaways onboard the Galactica? Riiight.

So we spend half of the season 4.5 episode characterizing Gaeta and Zarek, and we spend the other half fixing a plot hole from yesteryears. And some other half breaks all sort of mathematical laws that we previously took for granted, to show that Roslin is getting on with her life. In a greater episode, that could have been a subtle, critical characterization -- in this one, it is simply more filler. Baltar's appearance attempts to redeem the whole mess, and even then, his destitute countenance only graces us for some thirty-odd seconds.

This show is not about Felix Gaeta or Tom Zarek, and it's far too late to change that. Which means that focusing on these two characters as they go about building a resistance for an entire episode has the dramatic depth of a random character, say, Helo, going about his daily routine, say, locking up crazy doctors. Didn't we already try that? It didn't go over so well. What they should focus on is the reaction to these events from the characters we do care about, and it looks like next week will be about just that. The question remains, "What in Gods' names were they thinking?" Additional points docked because this episode actually makes others (the next one; Cally's suicide; anything with Felix) worse on re-viewing.

Apart from appreciating the political action for its theoretical depth, there's just absolutely no way to positively look on this episode. This isn't bad Battlestar, which usually has very high standards... this is bad TV.

3/10

/REVIEW

I'm as saddened to write this as any fan of BSG will be to read it, and I hope that this was simply a tremendous misstep in a season that will otherwise have nothing of the sort.

Tune in shortly for the review of LOST seasno 5's first two (three?) episodes, all the way through Jughead, and a thorough glance at why the problems we see may impact the entire season's run. The horror, the horror!

Hope brought him to Earth, and he made many memories along the way. But now, at the end of his journey, accomplished seemingly for nothing, he stands in a desolate land in the company of not friends, but enemies, and laughs. It is a genuine laugh; all that is left to him.

If you think I'm talking about Chief Tyrol or any of the other Cylons on the surface of Earth, you're wrong. I'm talking about Roy Baty, played by Rutger Hauer, in the ****c film Blade Runner, based on Philip K Dick's brilliant novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? The original Cylon.

And he certainly had a midlife crisis: the anguish of knowing that he wouldn't live long enough to resolve it. The brilliance of Dick's novel, and the film that followed, lies in their relevance. Despite the sci-fi trappings and the talk of androids, these characters are enduring hauntingly human trials.

As of "Crossroads," four of the Final Five Cylons have been aware of their nature, and you might be surprised to learn that the long-term effects of the discovery have not perfectly matched the characters' initial expectations of themselves. By figuring out how they've grown over the last half of a season, we may be closer to predicting these characters' journeys in the future.

CHIEF TYROL

"You're not in my club. You don't even know what frakkin' club I'm in, because you never ask the right questions."

History

Aaron Douglas's Chief Tyrol is the everyman of the bunch. He's a white collar guy who prefers working with his hands and doing the right thing to sitting around and talking. He's easygoing without being everyone's buddy, reserved without being distant, the son of a priest, he is deeply religious and a leader of men. Fixing vipers to make dents in Basestars comes as naturally to him as standing up for his coworkers' rights on the surface of New Caprica and back on Galactica, as naturally as leading the Resistance's efforts in Colonel Tigh's stead. He's got a wife and a son he cares deeply about, and seems to have his life figured out.

Crossroads

The beauty of Crossroads' impact on Tyrol is that in no way does it break his everyman allure -- in fact, it proves the opposite. His marriage, noted as troubled in Dirty Hands, proves shaky. Issues that stem from a bottled-up desire that he had ended up with Sharon influence him to look outside of his marriage; Cally thinks he's having an affair (in truth, he doesn't know what he's doing) and almost overdoses on drugs. Her assisted suicide, while narratively tied to the discovery of the Cylon threat aboard the Galactica, plays naturally into their crumbling relationship.

Tyrol is a man who's used to taking charge of whatever lot life deals him, but this one time, he doesn't know what that lot is -- he is forced to acknowledge how superficial his choices have been in the last years, how he has only done as a caged animal might. Tyrol's lost, probably for the first time in his life. He doesn't care who discovers that he's a Cylon (the scene with Tigh at Cally's funeral). He's a new man, but doesn't know what that means -- he seeks guidance from others, but reading into his recent tragedy, they keep their distance. So Tyrol turns away from everybody he's known, burning bridges left and right and throwing Adama's proper-etiquette niceties in the Admiral's face. And before he knows what he's doing there, he's visiting one of Baltar's sermons. He erupts again, but in private accepts Baltar's sincere offer of reconciliation.

In an ironic twist, when Tyrol is surrounded by lies and deceit, it is Gaius Baltar that for once rings as the voice of sincerity and honesty. He admits that he didn't know Cally, admits that he doesn't know many things, and it's these admissions that establish their connection. His exchanges with Tigh and Anders in Revelations prove that he is with them -- whatever they have gone through, they have gone through it together as best they could, and there may always be an understanding for that alone.

Revelations

In the finale, Tyrol is a changed man. There is a new purpose in his eyes, a primal purr in his voice as he looks over Starbuck's viper. Crossroads has forced Tyrol to examine his life and come to terms with his lack of control over it -- and this knowledge has exhausted him. He smiles as guards rush in to arrest him and Anders, appreciating that this situation has been just as out of his wearied hands as all the others. He is the only one smiling on Earth -- grinning like a mad man for no one's benefit but his own. And he can't help it. In a world that refuses to play fair, a world without evil Cylon warmongers he can blow up, he has learned that there is little else he can do.

The Future

His background in tandem with season four paint a pretty clear picture. Tyrol is a man of faith, and his renewed connection with Gaius Baltar should not be overlooked. As he comes closer and closer to accepting his chaotic role as the Hand of God, the former Chief may delve into uncharted territory. At best, his reasonable nature could win through as he attempts to piece together the puzzle that has made a mess of his life... but there is a new man lurking underneath the surface, now, as well. An intense and brooding figure, whose strong faith and zealous nature may find a different outlet. After all, if the universe doesn't play fair, why should he? The only true question is whether he will take this opportunity to find himself a Sharon just like he always wanted -- and what will happen once Boomer enters the scene when the other Cylons arrive.

COLONEL TIGH

"My name is Saul Tigh. I'm an officer in the Colonial Fleet. Whatever else I am, whatever else it means, that's the man I want to be. And if I die today, that's the man I'll be."

History

Saul Tigh, played by Michael Hogan, is the Colonel serving immediately under Admiral Adama. He is a born soldier, naturally and viciously assuming command of the Resistance movement on New Caprica; but a soldier needs an enemy, and when thrust under the scrutiny of a command position after Boomer's betrayal, the political aspect of the job overwhelmed him. He is completely loyal to his friends, but is vengeful, and despises mutiny (as seen with his grudge against Lee). Only on New Caprica did he come to know how much he loved his wife Ellen, shortly before he was forced to execute her for arranging his rescue at the cost of the Resistance's plans.

Crossroads

Tigh's loyalty to the Colonial cause is matched only by his growing doubts that he cannot contain this thing inside of him, whatever it is. In front of the others, he states that Boomer gave in to the Cylons because her will-power was not strong enough, yet during the battle in the Ionian Nebula, Tigh halucinates that a switch is turned on and he pulls out a gun and shoots his oldest friend, Adama; yet Boomer's immediate reaction was confusion... and even in the dream, Tigh reacts with anguish and horror, recognizing his own handiwork.

The conflict between the desire to prove himself more than just a Cylon machine, but the human being he has believed himself to be -- and the duty of taking responsibility for the danger he poses, willingly or otherwise -- drives Tigh mad. On the surface, he appears calm and re-affirms the pro-Colonial mantra that his Cylon comrades desperately need; but beneath that mask is a man lost between his obligations to his friends and his obligations to himself.

After being sent to interrogate Caprica Six, Tigh forms an unlikely bond with the prisoner. "I can't smell her, Bill," the drunk Colonel informs Adama during Baltar's trial, having confessed to the murder of his wife. During the interrogation, Tigh mistakes Caprica for Ellen, seeing and hearing what he wants to hear -- the tragic tale of a flawed, proud man and a woman's love for him -- and is disgusted by himself every time the trance breaks, questioning the search for guidance from a Cylon when he wants so much to prove that he is different.

Because if he admits that they could be the same, will he still be able to justify the horrific violence that was executed by his order on New Caprica? Will he still be able to justify the murder of the wife he loved so dearly? He asks, "Can you turn off the pain?" But there are no easy answers. Yet this brutal honesty between them is a necessary connection, reminiscent of Tyrol's unlikely friend, and their relationship grows.

When Adama hands down command of the Galactica to Tigh before leaving, the Colonel is visibly frightened at the prospect of what he could do with the power. We learn in Revelations that Tigh has not even sat in the chair in Adama's absence, in a display of loyalty and dreadful anticipation of what he may do to the fleet with such unconditional power should a switch flip somewhere.

Revelations

When Adama and D'Anna seem to be on a course toward mutual destruction, Tigh decides that he must do his part in preventing further bloodshed. His admission is laced with both self-loathing (the cowardice) and pride (at finding this opportunity to prove to Bill that although he is a Cylon, he is the same Saul Tigh as before). In the interests of the fleet he gives up both Anders and the Chief, and as he taunts Lee to "Do it!" he stands prepared, noble to the last, knowing that he has not compromised in any duty to himself or to his friends.

The Future

And yet Saul Tigh is not dead. Nor is he celebrated as a hero for his actions (Adama's and Lee's reactions to his reveal are evidence enough). For as long as we've known him, Tigh has been a soldier in need of a war, and if Caprica provides him the support he needs, he may finally find the peace he deserves. But if his vengeful, dangerous nature reasserts itself, Tigh might lash out at anyone he perceives has wronged him -- whether that is the remaining Cylons or the humans who did not appreciate his selfless sacrifice remains to be seen.

SAM ANDERS

"If you're a Cylon, then you've been one from the beginning. It still doesn't change who you really are. Still doesn't change the fact that I love you... no matter what."

History

Samuel T. Anders, played by Michael Trucco, is a professional Pyramid player turned guerilla fighter turned Resistance leader turned Viper pilot. Anders is social and likable, and head over heels in love with his knight in shining armor, Kara Thrace, to whom he is married and in an on-again-off-again relationship. Although he has quickly bonded with Tyrol and Tigh, he is not a military type, and his impulsive nature is saddled with a realistic lack of experience in the cockpit or adhering to customs.

Crossroads

Immediately upon discovery, Anders is shaken up and fears that he may become a danger to his friends and other Viper pilots, requiring reassurance from Tyrol, and the Raider scanning him fuels to his paranoia. But when Kara is found alive and okay, Sam is very quick to realize that nothing fundamental has changed.

Unlike the other Cylons, he still lives his life for somebody he loves, and this relationship quickly puts into perspective the fact that for him, absolutely nothing has changed. The stoic soldiers obsess over their lives, yet Sam chooses to live his to the fullest as though no other choice had presented itself. He adjusts effortlessly. Not having seen Boomer put two bullets in Adama's chest probably helped.

When Starbuck forgets about her imprisonment on New Caprica at the hands of Leoben, in light of his prophetic mission, Anders is quick to come to her defense. Likewise, he's at her side instantly when mutiny sparks aboard the Demetrius. Anders also follows Starbuck to the destroyed Baseship, wandering around the place with the innocent curiosity of a child. He does not deny his Cylon nature, but neither does he allow it to change who he is and what he stands for, or which team he's on, and this resolve noticeably adds to his self-assurance.

Revelations

Once the viper draws the Cylons, Anders is adamant that Kara examine it. His unwavering faith in her, fueled by love, assures him that she loves him just as much. And so, when the moment comes and the truth is made known, he takes for granted Starbuck's understanding, instead using his last instant of freedom to instruct her what on what she needs to do. His instinct is right, and Kara finds that her threat from the season premiere was a meaningless one.

The Future

Anders is in an interesting position, because he is clearly drawn to discover the mysteries of his Cylon nature, yet has absolutely no desires to break up the relationships that have become important to him. One thing is for certain, and that is Sam will not appreciate the facetime Kara and Leoben will get, now that they are on the same planet together. He has made a point of dishing out against the Cylon as hard as he could, and depending on Kara's feelings toward him in this new half season, this may turn into something more personal. Kara was the rock that kept him sane through the Cylons' chaotic lives in season four, and Sam Anders may not be so willing to let go. For him, nothing's changed.

TORY FOSTER

"It might be worth pondering what else you've been wrong about."

History

From the little we know about her, Tory Foster, played by Rekha Sherma, worked diligently with Roslin on the surface of New Caprica, and the two characters bonded, with Roslin taking Tory under her protective wing.

Crossroads

Tory immediately jumps at her chance to experience a world she feels she has never known before. Traditional morality is suddenly beneath her as she murders Cally and sets out on a selfish journey of self-actualization, stepping over Tyrol and Gaius as the opportunity presents itself. There isn't much else to say except that she is, indeed, a very sexy lady, and she becomes progressively sexier as the season wears on!

Revelations

Before consulting with the other Cylons aboard Galactica, Tory takes her first opportunity to sneak aboard safely, where she uses her newfound power to humiliate Roslin. Strangely, her appearance on Earth has her reaching out to the disinterested Anders, perhaps in reference to all the bridges she's burned and characters she's screwed over.

The Future

Impossible to predict, as even her role within the Rebel Cylon group is uncertain. Does she command so much power that even D'Anna bows down to her, or are the two equals? Is Tory's agenda as selfish as it would seem, and how will her interest in her Cylon heritage manifest itself among the secrets of Earth? Unlike the other known Final Five, she is duplicious and cruel, and no matter Lee's amnesty, she will not be forgiven by Roslin.

THAT'S THE END OF THAT!

Hope you enjoyed this guide to the Cylons' character development in season 4 as we head into the final batch of episodes. What are your thoughts on where these characters will go in the episodes to come?

Some series have ended their seasoned run and some are just beginning. I wanted to go into the new seasons of Lost and Battlestar Galactica with a fresh start, so I followed up on the shows I've neglected lately -- in light of where they've stood in the past, and where they're going to head in the future.

The Good - Battlestar Galactica

Revelations may be only the mid-season finale for Battlestar Galactica's final season, but it unmistakably heralds the end of our journey. In many ways, some journeys have already been completed, and the episode's subtle and not-so-subtle nods in these directions are breathtaking and tragic. In light of the series' impending conclusion, the slightest of moments become bittersweet and meaningful, while the grandest boast proudly, "The face of this series has changed forever."

As the Cylons and Colonials seem bent on mutual destruction, Col Tigh takes matters into his own hands and tells Adama the truth, offering himself as a sacrifice on the altar of truth and justice and the Colonial way (that damned Cylon! *tear*). The moment is perfect, from the heartbreaking acting of Michael Hogan (noble to the last) and Edward James Olmos (in one of his rare displays of emotion), to the swelling music, and this being the mid-season finale of the final season, all bets are off.

But for every grand moment, there is one just as beautiful in its subtlety. Chief Tyrol, one of the most quietly self-assured characters throughout the first three seasons, is broken and re-made in season 4 into a lost wreck, reminiscent of The Dark Knight's Joker, at odds with the insanity of the entire world. Anders has the audacity to be surprised by the guards that come for him, but Tyrol laughs, appreciating the bitter irony of the situation. His haggard nod to Tigh is another understated, powerful moment, thanks to the reserved acting of Aaron Douglas.

The tension builds with expert precision... Tigh in the airlock alone seems doomed, yet when Anders and Tyrol join him, their safety in numbers is assured. Nobody would kill off three major characters with untold stories in one fell swoop -- so Anders and Tyrol are forced to leave, once again raising the stakes. Tigh yells, "What are you waiting for Apollo, do it!" and for a split-second the death of this tragic character is imminent, unavoidable, and wholly appropriate.

Before the choir-accompanied arrival at Earth is complete, however, another of the series' journeys is finally over: D'Anna repeats the religious mantra "All this has happened before," and Lee takes a bold step, replying, "But it doesn't have to happen again." And then the scene that everybody's been talking about since Revelations aired... its mind-frakking value is off the charts. It artistic beauty as a single, lasting image, is iconic. And the subtle moments it leaves us with are frightening -- for years we have watched these characters on their admirable search for a home they never knew, and now they are presented with the reality that that search had been for nothing. The sacrifices made have been for nothing. As we watch the characters adjust to their lot, clinging to each other when it seems they have nothing left (Tori's hopeless gesture; Caprica coming to Tigh's side), it's the embittered Tyrol that has the last, empty laugh.

The Bad - Dexter

Season 3 has been kind to Dexter. The character of Miguel Prado, played to perfection by Jimmy Smits, added an unrivaled burst of emotion to the show, only somewhat foreshadowed by the explosive Sergeant Doakes. Through Miguel, his first true friend, Dexter began to feel things he had never known before -- care, worry, regret, and loss. The final fifteen seconds of "I Had a Dream," the penultimate episode, are a flawless rendition of the pain Dexter, and we as his fellow human beings, are going through knowing that he may never experience friendship again, as the color is literally sucked out of his life. The season was full of such great analogies, thrilling action, mind-bending games of cat-and-mouse, and character development for a number of secondaries. Even the music stepped up a notch, adding a distinctly Spanish, noble sound to its repertoire of themes.

Then why does it all feel so wrong?

TVtropes calls it fridge logic. It's the sort of thing you only think about once you're done watching and are walking about the house, and suddenly it hits you "Why the hell did everything end so conveniently?"

And above all else, that is the best word to describe Dexter's third, and for this viewer final, season: "convenient." That standard, tried-and-true solution is the only one the writers could find to tackle Dexter's complex issues. Instead of attempting to come to some resolution with Miguel, the vengeful (a human quality) attorney is made into a distinctly inhuman psychopath, with not even Dexter's moral code to guide him. "What if Prado was a good, albeit flawed person, instead of the freakshow that loosed a serial killer on Miami? Would Dexter have continued on his path to becoming a normal person through his growing family? Would he have been able to overcome his dysfunctions?"

All great questions, but all we can do is speculate now that the show has clearly left them in the dust, and firmly stated, "We prefer to have more seasons of this show using its tried-and-true formula of psychotic villain per season than to seriously address the issues Dexter Morgan presents to society." If a single morally-bound serial killer can exist in Dexter, there is precedent for more of such well-intentioned dysfunctional human beings, yet the brooding, compelling Michael C. Hall tells us: "No, there can only be I. Everybody else is truly a monster, and I will kill one especially psychotic one per season."

The socially beneficial qualities I praised Dexter for in the past seem laughed at, mocked, by this finale, which insists that traditional TV schedule, even through coincidence in writing, is superior to actually addressing these concerns. A flawed human being is turned into a monster for the sole purpose of a season finish that allows the next season to start as though nothing had happened. Dexter has killed his brother, his mistress, and his friend. I can only imagine what sort of wacky adventures await him in season 4. Will he have to confront the monster discovered in his sister Deb, unleashed by her findings of Morgan Sr.'s unfaithfulness? Or will Dexter have to put Rita, his wife, out of her misery, once she starts killing people due to a miscarriage?

God forbid the show subvert the status quo.

The Ugly - Californication

Let's be clear on one thing: Californication is a show that premiered with Hank Moody receiving fellatio in a church to The Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Its protagonist is a sexaholic who hates the city he lives in, because that's a lot easier than taking responsibility for his life. But there is a fine line between embellished observations about human nature, whether they take place in the office or in the bedroom, whether they are dramatic or hysterical, or both at the same time, and pursuing obscenity for obscenity's sake.

Thanks to David Duchovny's pitch-perfect portrayal of Hank Moody, from his sardonic wit to his genuine affection toward his friends and family (whether that means making sure his daughter's doing okay in school or that his best friend isn't discovered cheating on his wife with his kinky assistant), season one was an instant ****c. We saw Los Angeles through Hank's distorted perspective, and saw Hank through the city's, which, more often than not, was the more reliable of the two. I wrote, what seems like ages ago, in the Whore of Babylon review:

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"There are things I need to figure out. For [Becca's] sake at least.

The clock is ticking. The gap is widening. She won't always love me "no matter what."

For all the sex and nudity, the crass jokes and witty banter, it is ultimately Hank's unquestionable love for his daughter that inspires him to work through his own issues, even when it would be so much easier to drown in a sea of endless female genitalia.
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Californication was not the only modern dramedy about living the life -- Entourage is in a far more prime position for that -- but David Duchovny took advantage of the focus on a broken family by providing insights on genuine love and responsibility.

It is tempting to watch Evan Handler's interactions with his secretary and say, "That's not so different from what happens in Season 2." But it is. In season 1, the raunchy subplots were a diversion from the main course offered by Hank, yet many of season 2's episodes focus on the dysfunctional Runkles who spend half of the season doing cocaine, half of the season filming a porn flick, and a good portion attempting to do both at the same time.

If it sounds funny, it probably was. But Californication used to have more to offer than just "funny," and from the outside looking in, one might guess that the writers simply decided to crank up the obscenity factor until it was the only thing left on show. These scenes are necessary, as they might be the core of the show's humor and nature, but without the relevant human element to connect them, they are meaningless and forgettable. Without impacting Hank's journey as a father, lover, and human being, they are trivial adventures, nothing more.

Maybe David Duchovny should have taken Hank's epiphany to heart. The clock was ticking. We wouldn't always love Californication no matter what.

Reviews End

A little bit of early Spring cleaning! Let me know what you think, and make sure to tune in in a few days for reviews of Battlestar and Lost's new seasons and where the shows might go in the time they have left.

-pW