****This will contain spoilers for “Battlestar Galatica”, so don’t read if you aren’t up to date on the show. ****
In the comment thread of my “I Hate Ron Moore” post, Vince asks me why I currently hate the man responsible for one of the best shows on television. I’ve had a bit of time to reflect on why last night was so disappointing, so with a deep breath to control my rage, here we go.
I’ve been on board BSG since the very beginning. I’ve seen friends and enemies alike air-locked, or killed in senseless battles and accidents. I’ve been Admiral Adama’s personal assistant and have watched him grow in both stature and wisdom only to see every strand of strength whittled away in the brief moments of deeply personal betrayal. I’ve stood next to Caprica Six as she’s talked and fucked a deranged and selfish Gaius Baltar. I’ve shared in the disbelief and wholly disturbing personal secrets of Col. Tigh, Anders, Tori and Chief. I too was shut away with D’Anna and let fear rule my decisions when I was “unboxed”. I’ve felt the intense passion that guides Leoben and the frustration and curiosity that make Kara Thrace. I’ve also counselled and questioned every decision Laura Roslin has made since the initial destruction of the 12 colonies.
I am a part of each person, each crew, each cylon and have been from the very beginning.
With all that said, you can imagine my joy, relief and disbelief when Felix Gaeda exclaimed that the constellations were a match. You can imagine the tears of those overwhelming emotions flowing like a cleansing river when Admiral Adama confirmed we had found our new home. I danced in jubilation with Lee in the CIC. I hugged my comrades in the hangar bay, and I wept with those who have lost so much and for the first time in years have had something for which to hope.
Yet the moment I bent down and held the soil in my hands with Adama, and heard the familiar tick of an active Geiger counter, was the moment my hope turned into rage and despair. Couple this with the fact that I am now frozen in time for an unknown period until the forces that be decide I can continue the rest of our journey, and well, it makes for a pretty pissed-off Kate.
I understand the need for dystopia when creating a show or writing a novel. Yet, if you are like me, you have invested yourself in watching, debating and discussing this show. With those countless hours, entitlement arises that you are owed a payoff for your efforts. You should be allowed to experience the most precious of human emotions; hope.
Apparently, Ronald Moore believes otherwise. I feel ultimately betrayed in that despite the relevant social and economic issues the writers have sprinkled throughout the seasons, they found it necessary to remind us that we are hell bent on destruction no matter how much we try and redeem ourselves.
We are destructive. We’ve known this from the very beginning. We know this as we read our daily news and surf our internet. I don’t see why it was necessary to offer another glimpse into what looked like nuclear holocaust when it was exactly what we were running from years ago.
So yeah Ron, would you kindly go fuck yourself. I wanted to hold onto my happy ending as long as possible and just as you took families and homes away from my friends and foes alike, you took the only driving force capable of bringing us back from the brink.
Right now, my hope is gone as I sit upon my Earth and look out upon a wasteland I so desperately wanted to call home.
Part of me is relieved the series isn’t over just yet, but part of me dreads where this will lead all of us in the year to come.