Battle of the Battlestars
But that's OK, because delaying gratification is an important part of shedding your compulsive consumerism. See how good it feels not to get something you want seconds after you decide you want it? See how deeply satisfying it can be to look forward to something for once in your spoiled, sad little life?
Remember this feeling, because you're going to need it to get through the dark nights of the soul that follow next weekend's enormous tease: "Battlestar Galactica: Razor" (premieres at 9 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 24, on Sci Fi), a two-hour movie that will heighten your thirst for all things Galactican. Sadly, though, the show's final season doesn't air until 2008.
Before I saw "Razor" I wondered if I could get back into "Battlestar" in just two short hours. Last season was a little bit disappointing, after all, and it's not clear where this show will go from there. The Cylons are less and less menacing, thanks to the haplessness of their human-form counterparts. We've seen most of the nascent-government-in-crisis scenarios, from military takeovers to revolutionary insurgencies to anti-terrorist clampdowns. And we slid into sticky, soapy territory with longtime love-haters Lee Adama (Jamie Bamber) and Kara Thrace (Katee Sackhoff) until we felt dirty just looking at either of them.
"Razor" frees us from these unpleasant memories, and resurrects one of our old favorites: Adm. Helena Cain (Michelle Forbes), the hard-assed commander of the Pegasus, the ship that Galactica rejoined after it wandered through the universe alone in the wake of the Cylons' nuclear attack. We begin our story right before the attack, when a young officer joins the Pegasus and must enforce Cain's brutal leadership. When Cain falls, Kendra Shaw (Stephanie Jacobsen) ends up working with Lee Adama and executes a mission to a Cylon base ship that involves a dark passage from Cmdr. Adama's past.
While plenty of fans of "Battlestar Galactica" have expressed their disappointment that there's only one more season of the show and it doesn't return until next year, it makes sense that the writers would hesitate to drag this show on indefinitely. Part of the problem for them is that "Battlestar's" very best episodes have set the bar so high for the entire series. President Roslin and Cmdr. Adama's standoff, the Cylon invasion of New Caprica, the discovery of the Pegasus -- so many of the episodes from the beginning and the last legs of the first two seasons were intense and suspenseful, it was hard to understand how the writers could keep the excitement pumped up so high. In its best moments, this show was one of the most riveting, intelligent suspense-thrillers on TV.
But it's pretty impossible to keep that level of intensity going for so long, and there's no way that "Battlestar" could escape falling into a repetitive formula -- most shows do. As a flashback of sorts, "Razor" can't be as exciting to longtime viewers as rejoining Adama and Roslin in their current search for Earth, but it will remind viewers of one of the fundamental appeals of the series: placing morally sound characters in untenable, impossible situations and watching them struggle for stable ground.
There's also a quick glimpse of some Cylon Centurians in action -- you know, the big, clunky, talking Cylons from the original "Battlestar Galactica" series of 1978? Have Centurians made an appearance on this show before? If so, I don't remember seeing them. What's next, Muffit the robot dog busts onto the scene and licks someone's face for several minutes while Lorne Greene and the crew share a hearty "Super Friends"-style guffaw?
"Razor" is neither the fascinating, heart-pounding "Battlestar" of our fondest memories nor the cheesy, "All Along the Watchtower"-lyrics-spewing "Battlestar" of our worst nightmares. But those hungry for a glimpse of Starbuck and Apollo will eat it up faster than a leftover-turkey-and-stuffing sandwich.
Blocking the runway
Aren't leftovers the best? See, it's not going to be that bad, not buying stuff. Soon you'll see how, when you recycle the Anthropologie catalog before you have a chance to fixate on it, you don't imagine for a second that you'd be happier if you looked more like a moody, bony teenager in a Victorian-era baby-doll dress and intricately embroidered $300 lace-up boots.
If push came to shove, you could always sew that dress for yourself, right? Isn't that what making do with what you have is all about? When times get tough, don't the tough start sewing? Just look at those nimble, thimble-fingered freaks of "Project Runway" (10 p.m. Wednesdays on Bravo), which recently returned for a fourth glorious season.
Or not-so-glorious, by all appearances. Now, as you well know, I love this show, and I'm not remotely interested in fashion. I love the smart neurotics and the obsessive freaks and the fussy queens they find for this thing. I love how these people are designed not just to design, but to berate each other's crappy taste. Because there's really nothing like watching people demonstrate contempt for each other's taste. It's like watching an episode of "Antiques Roadshow" where, instead of appraising the value of various antiques, a snotty expert holds forth on the questionable style choices of each person, based on the tacky artifacts they own.
Unfortunately, the designers on the fourth season look like a bunch of experienced professionals who know how and when to bite their tongues. Damn them! Where are the outspoken sociopaths and charismatic madmen who might rival some of the "Project Runway" greats -- Jay McCarroll, Santino Rice and Austin Scarlett?
Because, while on other reality shows and reality competitions the villain is someone dumb and mean whom no one can stand, "Project Runway" always casts the sorts of mean, crazy people that you'd feel lucky to count as some of your closest friends. They're the complainers and whiners and 30-minute monologuists whose phone calls you would never, ever miss. They're the sorts of people who eviscerate the other contestants just to keep themselves from getting bored while they're taking a smoking break (McCarroll). They undermine each other with deliciously sharp observations, they play on each other's weaknesses (Santino), they do spot-on impersonations of Tim Gunn (Santino) and Michael Kors (also Santino). Wait a minute, can Santino really be responsible for all of those misty water-colored memories? So where's our Santino, people? Where?! All I see is a bunch of reasonable, ambitious types and one kooky hippie. Do you honestly think we're going to hang around just to hear Tim Gunn say "Make it work!" for the fifty-millionth time in a row?
Next page: "It's like I have no lines, no boundaries"