It happened to me about two years ago. A hard lesson in forgiveness. No. Strike that. A hard lesson in second chances. I was denied mine. I decided to not deny others of theirs.
That has not been an easy road. It is still a road. And it’s best to start any journey with small steps. So I started mine with the easiest of all…TV:
Battlestar Galactica: Not at all Frakked-up
I watched the Battlestar Galactica miniseries and was unimpressed. It probably didn’t help that when I saw it I was pissed that scifi would greenlight that show while dropping Farscape, Legend of the Rangers and other good stuff by the wayside. Or that the acting in the miniseries was not engaging and the writing stunted. It definitely didn’t help that they “borrowed” the documentary style filming from the Fox cancelled, beyond awesome Firefly. I was also pissy about some real world issues. I was just full of piss. I swore to all that’s unholy to never watch the thing. There was dancing and blood rituals and everything.
Then a chance viewing of Galactica tugged heavily on my ear. That’s when it whispered this novel idea. The Cylons believe in one God. The Galactica-verse humans believe in many gods. The Cylons interplanetary act of genocide had God on their side. The humans were hapless(so far anyway) victims. It’s a war of ideology.
Sumbitch.
Wars of ideology, no matter how terrible, have a certain draw to them. They always catch my interest in films… in books…in reality. The acting improved tenfold. The writing finally spoke to me. The cinematography issue became an “homage”. Now I’m fully on the “Galactica is pretty darn good” bandwagon. I sold my hate. I ate some crow. I watch the show.
» Ronald D Moore does commentary podcast for each week’s episode. No DVD wait here, kids.
» David Eick has a behind the scenes video blog. It’s season 2 spoiler-icious!
Number two on the second chance list:
Veronica Mars: A Short Time Ago…
Buffy and Angel and Firefly were gone. The Whedon-verse recoiled and sobbed silently in a corner.
“Veronica Mars is the next Buffy!,” they said.
What?
“Veronica Mars. It’s hip! It’s smart!”
Bullshit!
There’s no way in the 7 hells that’s right. All you kids need an enema. Who could dare match the god-Whedon level of wit and charm. Who would dare boast this idea to the hill people and not expect to be crunched. Where was my Dark Willow?
Let me watch this noise so that I can mock it mercilessly among my friends. Friends who would later talk amongst themselves about my lifeless and sloth some ways.
And so I watched. I… was impressed.
Ah, hell.
