Gone Boldly
Last night I finished watching, for the second time, the entire four season run of the former SciFi Channel show Farscape, including the series ending wrap up, The Peacekeeper Wars. Usually when I watch the show I think, damn, that's a good show but last night I tended to simply curse the unmentionable SOB's that canceled the show so unexpectedly a few years ago. On the other hand, those same people may have been responsible for it being on the air in the first place but the two things don't quite cancel each other out.
Before my eight month long period of enforced rest, I had come across the show while flicking channels but I never stayed for more than a minute or two. I saw a puppet or two, some people of unusual colors, and not knowing what was going on, I moved on. Then, during that time where I couldn't read and could barely sleep, I re-discovered it in late night re-runs.
Damn, it was good. And stylish, too, with each episode having a duotone kind of look to it. Apparently part of the reason for the series' creation was to showcase the capabilities of The Jim Henson Company, hence the puppets (as distinguished from Muppets, who had their own space thing going for a while but with pigs). This gave rise to two significant things: unique characters we hadn't seen before, and a very refreshing non-reliance on CGI graphics.
What carried the show the first two seasons was the characters' relationships to each other. Thrown together on a former prison barge, a group of escaped prisoners are accidentally joined by an astronaut from Earth and immediately caught up in flight from their former captors, the Peacekeepers. None of the characters particularly like the other, they argue, they fight, they don't trust. But over the course of the show that comes to change in much the same way the characters in Dead Like Me evolved throughout that series' run.
Even though many of the plots were the same recycled ones we've seen since the original Star Trek: one of the characters is dropped into an alien, primitive society and treated like a god, then they turn on him when they find he isn't; one of the characters is accused of murder in another culture while really being manipulated by someone else; a first contact story; and more.
What saves the show during this time is the uniqueness of the characters (despite the worn plots), the stylish look of the show, and a villain that may be the most intriguing bad guy ever filmed, an alien half breed named Scorpius. His cultured manners alternating with sudden viciousness, a black leather suit that is part armor and part air conditioner, the whirling thing that rotates in and out of the side of his head, and the truly scary make up job immortalize him in the annals of television. My annals, anyway. His tendency to spew and drool while being tortured are remarkable, as well.
The way I understand it, the ratings had gone flat and the channel wasn't seeing the growth it should, therefore they pulled the plug on a planned fifth season. I know that when I first started watching, I had no idea what was going on: why was there an image of Scorpius in Crichton's head, who put the wormhole technology in his brain and why, etc. etc. The ongoing continuity is one of the show's great strengths but it does come with a significant drawback: as the show progresses and the storylines grow longer and deeper, new viewers simply cannot pick up what is going on.
Ultimately I guess that's what doomed the show from SciFi's perspective but dammit, they should have exercised restraint and had more patience. When the show really hit it's stride in the third season with mostly original plot ideas, it was the best thing going. The hundred new variations of Star Trek couldn't touch it, Battlestar Galactica is, to me, all flash and no substance (see earlier posts), and nothing else even comes to mind as worth mentioning.
Watch the DVD's, be a fan, be sad that it ended far too soon. On the other hand, is it sad that a forty something year old man can feel this strongly about a television show? Forget I said anything.
Before my eight month long period of enforced rest, I had come across the show while flicking channels but I never stayed for more than a minute or two. I saw a puppet or two, some people of unusual colors, and not knowing what was going on, I moved on. Then, during that time where I couldn't read and could barely sleep, I re-discovered it in late night re-runs.
Damn, it was good. And stylish, too, with each episode having a duotone kind of look to it. Apparently part of the reason for the series' creation was to showcase the capabilities of The Jim Henson Company, hence the puppets (as distinguished from Muppets, who had their own space thing going for a while but with pigs). This gave rise to two significant things: unique characters we hadn't seen before, and a very refreshing non-reliance on CGI graphics.
What carried the show the first two seasons was the characters' relationships to each other. Thrown together on a former prison barge, a group of escaped prisoners are accidentally joined by an astronaut from Earth and immediately caught up in flight from their former captors, the Peacekeepers. None of the characters particularly like the other, they argue, they fight, they don't trust. But over the course of the show that comes to change in much the same way the characters in Dead Like Me evolved throughout that series' run.
Even though many of the plots were the same recycled ones we've seen since the original Star Trek: one of the characters is dropped into an alien, primitive society and treated like a god, then they turn on him when they find he isn't; one of the characters is accused of murder in another culture while really being manipulated by someone else; a first contact story; and more.
What saves the show during this time is the uniqueness of the characters (despite the worn plots), the stylish look of the show, and a villain that may be the most intriguing bad guy ever filmed, an alien half breed named Scorpius. His cultured manners alternating with sudden viciousness, a black leather suit that is part armor and part air conditioner, the whirling thing that rotates in and out of the side of his head, and the truly scary make up job immortalize him in the annals of television. My annals, anyway. His tendency to spew and drool while being tortured are remarkable, as well.
The way I understand it, the ratings had gone flat and the channel wasn't seeing the growth it should, therefore they pulled the plug on a planned fifth season. I know that when I first started watching, I had no idea what was going on: why was there an image of Scorpius in Crichton's head, who put the wormhole technology in his brain and why, etc. etc. The ongoing continuity is one of the show's great strengths but it does come with a significant drawback: as the show progresses and the storylines grow longer and deeper, new viewers simply cannot pick up what is going on.
Ultimately I guess that's what doomed the show from SciFi's perspective but dammit, they should have exercised restraint and had more patience. When the show really hit it's stride in the third season with mostly original plot ideas, it was the best thing going. The hundred new variations of Star Trek couldn't touch it, Battlestar Galactica is, to me, all flash and no substance (see earlier posts), and nothing else even comes to mind as worth mentioning.
Watch the DVD's, be a fan, be sad that it ended far too soon. On the other hand, is it sad that a forty something year old man can feel this strongly about a television show? Forget I said anything.
posted by Rick Ollerman at 7:58 AM
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