If you caught Eureka this past summer, you saw something amazing: an old trope used in a truly new way. Many shows have had their alternate-timeline episodes (every Star Trek, to begin with), but Eureka is the first TV show I have seen to go to an alternate timeline and stay (rather like the Star Trek movie reset, in fact). The writers kept us guessing, till the last moment of the last episode, whether our main characters would, in fact, stay in the alternate timeline they accidentally (or, possibly, by Keven the autistic genius' design) landed in. In the finale, especially, they played with our expectation (or fear) that the season would "reset," sending characters and relationships back where they started. But, thank goodness, the alternate timeline was confirmed as the new reality.
Stepping sideways this season made an already good show better. The writers were able to keep everything that was working well (the main characters, the zany science mysteries), and revitalize everything that had stalled. The characters we have grown to know and love were thrust into new situations, and given new challenges; the accident-prone Fargo, for example, suddenly found himself the head of GD, a puppet of the DOD. Relationship drama burst out like daisies in spring: Jack and Alison finally got together; Jo and Zane never were together (though Jo still loved him, of course); Henry found himself married for years to someone he'd just met. In addition, the morally ambiguous time-travel stowaway Dr. Grant stole scene after scene and kept us wondering. No one walks the line between evil and misguided like James Callis, who walked the line between evil and crazy as Gaius Baltar on Battlestar Gallactica for years. It's a shame he seems to be written out of the regular cast by the end of the season finale.
I hear Eureka is taking a page from Doctor Who's book and bringing us a Christmas special this year. Now that's something to sing Hallelujah about.
Showing posts with label Star Trek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Star Trek. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
More on the Status Quo
Please don't misunderstand me: returning to the status quo is not always a bad decision. There are episodic shows that naturally return to the status quo; for example, Star Trek: TNG was an excellent show (probably made even more excellent in my memory since it was a family event while I was growing up) that always returned the status quo without becoming boring. Two factors helped it maintain this routine: first, an excuse. The Enterprise was a ship, constantly roving. The plot of each episode had to be resolved in a neat and tidy fashion, at least as far as the main characters were concerned, because next week those same main characters would be somewhere else. A good excuse like this spares the writers from any status quo-inducing measures that strain our suspension of disbelief. The traveling starship of Star Trek and Firefly isn't the only good excuse out there, either; several good speculative shows I can think of (Eureka, Warehouse 13, Moonlight, etc.) rely on the crime-show standby of "cases" to be solved. The second factor that helps a status quo show to remain dynamic is the proxy effect -- the fact that the show's guests, the inhabitants of this week's planet or the suspects in this week's case, do experience substantial, life-altering change. A war is averted, a culture is saved, a victim is protected or avenged; in other words, something BIG and emotional happens, even though the main characters go back to their lives unchanged. It's not my favorite plot structure, but there's no denying that it works.
On the other end of the spectrum, we've had a recent spate of shows that have no status quo. Syfy's Battlestar Galactica was all arc; the status of the fleet, and the situations of the individual characters, was constantly changing. Lost also had no resting place, although it used some awe-inspiring innovations to accomplish this. Whenever the characters experienced a lull on the island, the flash-backs provided a story of transformation to maintain a sense of forward motion. (Take, for example, last season's episode in which the characters made little progress on the island, but we witnessed Richard's life story). I happened to love this kind of show, perhaps because the structure more closely resembles that of a novel, or perhaps just because I glory in complications and am a sucker for romance (so, I like for people to actually get together). My all time favorite show, however, falls into the most common middle category.
Most shows lie in the challenging area between these two extremes. The writers want things to change, but not too fast, so they must delay, delay, delay. Joss Whedon set the standard for this type of writing with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The show had episodic tendencies, but against the backdrop of monster-of-the-week plots, Whedon and his team wrote stories that involved real, lasting, character growth. Willow went from sweet to evil to grown-up; Spike earned a soul; Buffy went through more changes than I can list, longing for normalcy at first, finding reasons to live after being dead, and becoming more and more isolated in the final season. Relationships between the characters on the show began, developed, and ended (Xander and Anya). Whedon wasn't afraid to absent (Oz, Angel, etc.) or kill (Joyce, Tara) main characters, heightening the sense of danger. The key to Whedon's victory over the status quo was the way the characters were allowed to react to their wonderful and horrible adventures like actual people who are changed by their experiences. Add to that witty dialogue, a perfect blend of comedy, melodrama, and fantasy, and great acting, and you get my favorite show.
On the other end of the spectrum, we've had a recent spate of shows that have no status quo. Syfy's Battlestar Galactica was all arc; the status of the fleet, and the situations of the individual characters, was constantly changing. Lost also had no resting place, although it used some awe-inspiring innovations to accomplish this. Whenever the characters experienced a lull on the island, the flash-backs provided a story of transformation to maintain a sense of forward motion. (Take, for example, last season's episode in which the characters made little progress on the island, but we witnessed Richard's life story). I happened to love this kind of show, perhaps because the structure more closely resembles that of a novel, or perhaps just because I glory in complications and am a sucker for romance (so, I like for people to actually get together). My all time favorite show, however, falls into the most common middle category.
Most shows lie in the challenging area between these two extremes. The writers want things to change, but not too fast, so they must delay, delay, delay. Joss Whedon set the standard for this type of writing with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The show had episodic tendencies, but against the backdrop of monster-of-the-week plots, Whedon and his team wrote stories that involved real, lasting, character growth. Willow went from sweet to evil to grown-up; Spike earned a soul; Buffy went through more changes than I can list, longing for normalcy at first, finding reasons to live after being dead, and becoming more and more isolated in the final season. Relationships between the characters on the show began, developed, and ended (Xander and Anya). Whedon wasn't afraid to absent (Oz, Angel, etc.) or kill (Joyce, Tara) main characters, heightening the sense of danger. The key to Whedon's victory over the status quo was the way the characters were allowed to react to their wonderful and horrible adventures like actual people who are changed by their experiences. Add to that witty dialogue, a perfect blend of comedy, melodrama, and fantasy, and great acting, and you get my favorite show.
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