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Posts Tagged ‘John Colicos’

We live in a more connected world than was once the case. These days day-and-date releases for major movies are standard practice, and big TV premieres also happen close together in different parts of the world. It was not always thus, of course: I remember the sense of resignation with which I learned that that Star Trek TNG would not receive a UK transmission until 1990 (three years after its American debut). There was once a time when it was seriously speculated that the delay in the UK release of The Phantom Menace (two months after its US opening) might actually impact on tourism figures, as people went to the States solely or partly in order to see it.

Doesn’t happen these days, of course. Something else that doesn’t really happen any more is the phenomenon where US TV networks, having splashed out big money on a TV pilot or two-part episode, arranged to have their TV show released into theatres in Europe and other foreign territories, in an attempt to recoup their investment. I remember seeing in the very early 80s a movie entitled Spider-Man: The Dragon’s Challenge, which was an extended episode of the TV series starring Nicholas Hammond. Also earning big-screen outings in Europe were various episodes of the Bill Bixby Hulk series, and – most relevantly for our purposes today – Battlestar Galactica.

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Strictly speaking there were three Galactica movies, if you lived outside the US at least: one which was a re-edited version of the pilot episode, plus Mission Galactica (cobbled together from elements of the episodes The Living Legend and Fire in Space), and Conquest of the Earth (a similar fix-up derived from the follow-up show Galactica 1980, which I came across being shown at a Butlin’s in about 1983). But let’s stick to the original, directed by Richard Colla.

Things get underway with portentousness dialled up to maximum and an opening voice-over from an uncredited Patrick Macnee, who presumably appeared as a favour to an old friend and for a hefty fee. ‘There are those who believe that life here began out there… some believe that there may yet be brothers of man, who even now fight to survive – somewhere beyond the heavens!’ Well, that’s as maybe, but as a glance at any newspaper will tell you, these days some people will believe anything.

Well, anyway, somewhere beyond the heavens we find the assembled fleet of the Twelve Colonies of Mankind (yes, I know: but they seem not have discovered gender-neutral nomenclature beyond the heavens), who are happily anticipating the conclusion of hostilities between their people and the Cylons, who seem to be oppressive alien robots. We really don’t learn much at all about the Cylons, except they apparently ‘hate freedom’ and want to eradicate civilisation as we know it, which is the kind of lazy propaganda you see on the right-wing news; it would be interesting to hear the Cylons’ point of view, but we never really do.

Alone in his scepticism about the coming armistice is basso profundo (and, it must be said, somewhat nepotistic) patrician Commander Adama (Lorne Greene), whose suspicions turn out to be well-founded: two of his sons, flying a patrol mission in their space fighters, discover a massive Cylon ambush. It turns out that peace broker Count Baltar (John Colicos) has sold them all out.

The Cylon attack devastates the unprepared fleet while the Cylon base ships wreak havoc on the home planets of the human colonies. Only Adama and his crew, aboard the ‘battlestar’ Galactica, manage to escape more or less unscathed. The commander seems to develop a kind of Moses complex and declares they will gather together the survivors and set out across the universe in search of a fabled lost colony where they may yet find haven – a mysterious planet known only as Earth…

There is, of course, a very good reason why Battlestar Galactica received its US premiere in 1978, only a few months after George Lucas’ initial stellar conflict opus began its demolition of box office records. On top of all the space battles, laser blasters, weird aliens and so on being displayed here, calling this story ‘Saga of a Star World’ was probably overdoing it – almost inevitably, accusations of plagiarism and a lawsuit ensued.

Battlestar Galactica is kind of respectable again now, mainly due to the success of Ronald D Moore’s Bush-era retelling of the tale (a programme I find it easier to admire than to genuinely like), but for a long time this was not the case: it had a reputation for being cheesy and po-faced and sometimes unintentionally camp. The creator of Babylon 5 instituted a ‘no cute kids or robots’ rule for his show, and you can’t help thinking that this was at least in part a reference to Galactica, which frequently has both in close proximity. However you view the relationship between the main show and Galactica 1980, this is still another US SF TV series that failed to last more than a couple of seasons. It’s got to be tosh, right?

Well – maybe. Glen A Larson, creator of Galactica, was a smart enough cookie to get as much of the budget up on the screen as possible, and the big draw for this show is that it had – for the late 70s – near-as-dammit movie-quality model work and special effects. The ships look great and the production designs are impressive. Even nowadays, you watch the first few minutes of Battlestar Galactica and go ‘wow, this looks pretty good.’

Then you spend the next few minutes going ‘Hang on, I’ve just seen this bit,’ for they start very obviously re-using special effects footage within the first half-hour and continue to do so throughout. Battlestar Economica might have been a better title for this project; it’s round about this point that most people start paying more attention to the plot and the acting.

There’s an odd sort of twin-track approach going on here – obviously, much of the plot is derived from an odd mish-mash of classical and religious influences. There are characters called Apollo, Athena, and Cassiopeia, and many elements of the story are based on Mormon theology; the tone of the programme occasionally resembles that of a Biblical epic with extra ray-guns. ‘And the word went forth to every outpost of human existence, and they came…’ declaims Greene at one point.

On the other hand, most of the rest of it is late-70s quotidian stuff, with disco dancing, interesting haircuts, and so on. The younger characters are designed to be archetypes, for maximum audience identification – there’s earnest young leader Apollo (Richard Hatch), loveable rogue Starbuck (Dirk Benedict), feisty single mum Serina (Jane Seymour), and so on. Chief human villain Baltar is a bit of a panto turn.

You wouldn’t expect the two styles to go together particularly well, but they somehow do: it is sometimes camp and cheesy, and sometimes (as mentioned) rather po-faced and portentous, but still strangely watchable. This is not the subtlest of programmes – ‘broad’ is perhaps the kindest way to describe the default performance style of everyone involved –  and while it is occasionally somewhat sentimental, it is seldom full-on mawkish.

It’s still the case that you can practically see the joins where this pilot movie will be chopped up to make at least three separate episodes when the show goes into syndication, for the plot is episodic at best – there’s the opener, concerning the apocalyptic Cylon attack on the colonies, then some rather humdrum stuff about food shortages in the fleet and a minefield that must be traversed, and finally the secret of the space casino of the planet Carillon and its insectoid owners. But it holds together, just about.

(For the purposes of this rambling I watched the cinema edit of the pilot, which is slightly different to the TV version – the main difference being that it has the scene where Baltar has his head chopped off by the Cylons. In the US version he survives and goes on to become the regular villain on the show. I like the comeuppance, but I also enjoy Colicos’ performance, so I find myself a bit torn by this.)

I don’t know, I find it very easy to indulge the original version of Battlestar Galactica, mainly because I am amused by the way in which its lofty storytelling ambitions collide with the minutiae of making a weekly mass-audience TV drama (here’s some more Mormon theology, along with a guest spot by Fred Astaire), but also because it does manage to give a better sense of an epic voyage across the galaxy in one season than Voyager managed in seven (yes, I genuinely think that). You couldn’t honestly describe the pilot as great, but much of it is good and most of the rest is not that bad either.

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With the release of Star Trek: Discovery only a few weeks away, my impression is that much of Trek fandom, far from being in a state of happy anticipation, is basically on Yellow Alert, hoping for the best, but fearing that… well, apparently the new show is essentially from the same place as the JJ Abrams movies – enough said, probably. (I almost get the impression that some people are more excited about The Orville than an ‘official’ piece of Star Trek.) One of the things most responsible for this general uneasiness is the new show’s take on the Klingons, particularly their appearance. After viewing one of the trailers, my comment to a friend was ‘What the hell have they done to the Klingons?!?’, to which his response was ‘How do you know they’re Klingons?’ (the dialogue gave it away – although well-versed in Trek, his grasp of tlhIngan Hol is even shakier than my own). The fact that a seasoned Trekkie didn’t recognise Discovery‘s Klingons as Klingons really kind of says it all.

Not that there haven’t been radical reimaginings of Klingons in the past, of course, make-up techniques and budgets having developed somewhat in the last fifty years. The original Klingon characters are basically just dudes in blackface makeup and droopy false moustaches, while The Motion Picture features a style of Klingon never quite seen elsewhere. From 1984 until the end of Berman-era Trek in 2005, things become a lot more consistent, of course. The shifts in makeup even get addressed in the text of the episodes themselves – there’s some lantern-hanging for comic effect in Trials and Tribble-Ations, where Worf, in all his lumpy-headed glory, gets to meet some ‘original’ Klingons, and then a sincere attempt to explain the various inconsistencies towards the end of Enterprise.

It’s telling, however, that when 90s Star Trek reintroduced Klingon characters from 60s episodes, they just updated the make-up without making any reference to the fact that they’d done so. My understanding is that consideration was given to simply retaining the original look, but the decision was that this might be confusing to the general audience.

The episode in question is Blood Oath (written by Peter Allan Fields), from the second season of Deep Space Nine. At this point in its history, DS9 is still essentially an episodic programme, with the Dominion yet to make its presence felt, and this installment is distinctive mainly because of a premise guaranteed to excite the truly devoted, while not meaning a huge amount to the general viewer.

Anyway, the story gets underway with a rowdy, if somewhat geriatric Klingon, causing trouble in Quark’s bar. This turns out to be Kor (John Colicos), last seen in Errand of Mercy from the first season of the original series. Kor has let himself go a bit since his glory days on Organia, rather to the disgust of his old friend Koloth (William Campbell), last seen in the flesh in The Trouble with Tribbles, from the second season of the original series – Koloth refuses to bail him out.

News of this unusual grip of elderly Klingons (‘grip’ is the collective noun for Klingons, apparently) reaches the senior staff of the station – those of them actually appearing in the episode, anyway. It turns out that Science Officer Dax was friends with both Kor and Koloth in her previous incarnation, and that they have come here in preparation for the fulfilment of an oath of vengeance taken decades earlier. All this has happened at the behest of a third old Klingon, Kang (Michael Ansara), last seen in Day of the Dove, from the third season of the original series.

However, Kang got to know Dax nearly a century earlier (the implication, if you do the sums, seems to be that this happened before the peace talks of Star Trek VI), and is unaware Dax is now an MTA. Kang releases Dax from the obligation to help them kill a Klingon renegade responsible for the deaths of the three Klingons’ eldest children on the grounds that she is not really the same person. But Dax is not sure she wants to be released…

Now, I like Deep Space Nine nearly as much as I like the original series, and so I really want to like this conjunction of the two of them: the whole idea seems to have been ‘let’s get the three most famous original Klingons back!’ – but having got them back, the episode struggles a bit to find worthy things for them to do. Now, Michael Ansara as Kang is very nearly as authentically Klingon as Michael Dorn, while the relish with which John Colicos attacks his lines as a newly Falstaffian Kor is also extremely good value. William Campbell gets swallowed up by his makeup and hair, though, and perhaps suffers from having less to do than the others (though this was also really the case in his original appearance, too).

Beyond the performances, though, the bulk of the episode is taken up with Dax wondering if she wants to go and help kill the bad guy, and then trying to persuade the others to let her come with them. And the scent of pre-mixed filler is all over this stuff – of course she does. Of course they will. I’m reluctant to say this is the fault of Terry Farrell (who plays Dax) as an actor – your level of expertise is really immaterial when it comes to dealing with a script which fails to really dig down into its subject and give it any depth or genuine emotion.

This is, in the end, a story about someone who sets off on a quest to kill someone – the oath of the title is an oath of vengeance, after all. It goes without saying that this is against the ethos of Starfleet and the Federation, and you might expect, firstly, that Dax would do a bit of histrionic soul-searching in the classic Trek style, and, secondly, that her colleagues and commanding officer would have something to say about it too. The episode makes a vague gesture in the direction of both these things, but in the end it doesn’t really do anything interesting with them.

I suppose in the end this episode is a dictum victim – the dictum in question being that of Trek writing luminary Michael Piller, who decreed midway through TNG that every episode would focus on one of the regulars and be about that character in some way, rather than being (say) a plot-driven action-adventure. Whatever you think of this in general, it’s surely a terrible basis for an episode the sine qua non of which is bringing back three classic characters for a tale of old warriors facing their last battle. All the stuff with Dax gets in the way of Kang, Kor, and Koloth getting good scenes, and it means the concluding action sequences feel rather underdeveloped too. The writer throws in a twist, but it’s a bizarre and somewhat illogical one – Kang is knowingly leading the other two to their deaths, believing they have no real chance of ever killing their target, and reasoning that any kind of demise in battle is better than simply fading away. Really? That’s a very defeatist attitude for a veteran Klingon commander.

And I wonder if the decision to stick the boys in the standard Klingon make-up wasn’t a mistake. For one thing, it makes at least one of them virtually unrecognisable from their original appearance, and for another, while the story is clearly gunning for a Three Musketeers or Seven Samurai kind of vibe, the Klingon wigs, on top of all the leather gear, gives it more of the feel of a geriatric hair-metal band reunion tour. On one level I suppose it sort of is. In the end, it is pleasant to see these characters again after all this time – and better episodes for John Colicos follow. But on this occasion, the strength of the material doesn’t come close to the potential of the concept.

 

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