GINO 4.2 Review - Spoilers

Woody Allen’s output has been wildly uneven over the years, but one of his best films is 1994’s Bullets Over Broadway, in which a 1930s mobster bankrolls a Broadway play in order to give his horrifically untalented actress girlfriend a starring role – and something to do. At one point, an understudy goes on for her, and everyone notices that not only does this improve every scene in which she appears, but also the scenes in which she does not appear. Suddenly, all of the other characters have more heft, because you can believe that they take the girlfriend’s character seriously, even when she is offstage.

Witness a real-life example of this principle in the third Godfather movie, where Sofia Coppola single-handedly mutilates the franchise with her limpid, vacant performance. It’s impossible to believe she’s Michael Corleone’s daughter, or that Andy Garcia is truly in love with her, and consequently the movie unravels completely by the third act. The final scene, when she dies in her father’s arms, is supposed to be the ultimate tragedy for the Corleone character, and, instead, it’s unintentionally funny. One bad acting apple truly spoils the whole bunch.

You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you?

Moore and Co. have made the fatal mistake of hanging this entire series on the shoulders of one Katee Sackhoff, who’s performance as Kara Thrace ranges all the way from really loud to really, really loud. She screams a lot. She seems to like screaming a lot. She’s like a Spinal Tap amplifier constantly turned up to 11, and that leaves her with nowhere else to go. She’s incapable of subtlety; she’s incapable of dynamics; she’s ultimately incapable of acting.

She ruins not only her own scenes, but also the scenes where she is not present.

Consider the moment in Adama’s quarters, when Olmos and Roslin are sparring over whether it’s appropriate to believe Starbuck. It’s actually a fairly well-written scene, and both Olmos and Roslin have the chops to carry it off. But it doesn’t work, and it’s only when you consider Sackhoff as the poison pill that you realize why. They’re taking Starbuck seriously, and it’s impossible for the audience to follow suit. All their gravitas can’t add enough heft to ground Sackhoff’s angry wisp of a character.

In the end, though, fixing Sackhoff would be like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. This is a show that lost its way a long time ago, and its only now that everyone will notice that the wheels are truly coming off.

If you doubt it, compare the Season 4 Cylons with the omnipresent nightmares that fueled this show’s premiere – and still finest – episode, “33.” Back then, the Cylons were fierce, unrelenting, and attacked every 33 minutes with mechanical, unfeeling precision. They held all the cards. They were hunting the human race to extinction. And, yes, they had a plan.

Now we’re left with the ludicrous spectacle of squabbling Cylons who settle their differences in makeshift caucus meetings based on the rantings of naked women lying in bubble baths. Remember when the Cylons infiltrated the human networks and shut down the fleet because they were wired into everything? Now they agree on nothing and can’t even get everyone together for a roll call vote.

And what’s this that one #8 Cylon has never disagreed with another #8 Cylon? Um, did anyone notice that there’s a #8 Cylon on the Galactica, openly supporting the humans? It’d be nice if the writers watched their own show once in awhile. ‘Cause won’t all those models that get blown away by Centurions just get resurrected before the next caucus? Don’t get me wrong; it was fun to see them get blown away in a “wow, man, cool” kind of way. But wasn’t it supposed to mean something?

Nothing means anything.

The really sad thing, however, is to watch this ridiculous “final four” twist mangle, ex post facto, some of the greatest moments of the series. Remember "Exodus Part II," when Tigh makes the wrenching decision to poison his own wife, who collaborated with the Cylons to save his skin? That was a singular example of the moral complexity Moore promises and never delivers. Now it’s worthless. Tigh is a Cylon. And if he were truly the same man who had to make the decision to murder his own wife, he would have blown himself away by now. He’s not that man anymore; that character is gone. Rebooted. Now he’s plotting in secret with his fellow reboots. Anything interesting about the character has been erased, much like any semblance of promise this show once held.

I don’t really care about the ratings much anymore, and they truly don’t matter. This show should have been cancelled when Enterprise reruns started pulling in a bigger share. This thing will undoubtedly lumber on to its unsatisfying conclusion, but I am willing to make a prediction.

The only people who are still watching, at this point, are the die hard fans. And, sooner or later, these fans are going to get uncomfortable when they’re forced to realize that the show has become meandering and aimless. The people who are truly invested in it will grow more uneasy as it becomes clearer and clearer that the emperor has no clothes. This show, even more than the 1978 original, is a product of its time – glib, fashionable, and wafer thin. Sooner or later, those die hards, if they haven’t already, are going to resent being taken on a ride to nowhere.

Mark it. And don’t shoot the messenger.