Battlestar Galactica: Sometimes You Have to Roll a Hard Six

A fleet that needs more than fuel

The early premise gives everyday problems an unusual weight. Water, fuel, sleep and trained pilots are not background details. There isn't another intact civilisation waiting to supply replacements. When people are worn down, the fleet has to keep going with worn-down people.

That makes the Galactica an involving place to spend time. It feels like a workplace operating long past the point when everybody should have gone home. The arguments are often recognisable even when the circumstances aren't: who has authority, whose information can be trusted, and whether an order that makes sense on paper is survivable in practice.

The possibility that Cylons can look human adds another pressure. Suspicion can do damage without a shot being fired. It is a good foundation for a long story because survival doesn't automatically bring the survivors closer together.

I liked that mixture of a big science-fiction premise and people struggling to get through a shift. The ships and battles get you in the door. The strain on the people gives you a reason to stay.

Starbuck, Adama and some very difficult company

Katee Sackhoff's Kara “Starbuck” Thrace is my favourite. She is an excellent pilot and often a complete liability away from the cockpit. The confidence is appealing because it comes with impatience, poor judgement and an ability to make a bad situation more awkward. Sackhoff makes her fun to watch without smoothing away the rough edges.

Edward James Olmos gives Adama a different kind of force. He doesn't need to sound optimistic to make you want to follow him. There is weariness in the performance as well as authority, which matters when the job is to keep telling frightened people that they have to go out again.

Mary McDonnell makes Laura Roslin a credible counterweight. She and Adama can't always afford the same priorities. Their disagreements are more interesting than a simple contest between a sensible soldier and an obstructive politician. Both have responsibilities the other can't simply take over.

Then there is James Callis as Gaius Baltar, bringing a very welcome measure of vanity and panic to all this resolve. Tricia Helfer's Number Six can unsettle him without appearing to make much effort. Their scenes have a peculiar humour that the series would be poorer without.

“Sometimes you have to roll the hard six.”

Adama's line has a special place in my heart. It is a much better expression of his appeal than a grand speech about leadership.

What I like is the lack of reassurance in it. He isn't promising that courage will make the odds favourable. Sometimes every option is bad, waiting is another choice with consequences, and somebody has to commit. Olmos can make that sound like the conclusion of a tired, experienced man rather than a slogan.

It is also a neat description of the show's best moments. The fleet can't always solve a problem by being clever enough. People have to take risks with incomplete information and live with the decision. When Battlestar makes you feel that responsibility, it can be very good indeed.

The arguments travel with them

The series is interested in what survives of a society after most of its institutions disappear. Civilian government doesn't stop mattering because there is an emergency. Nor does an election make a military problem vanish. Roslin and Adama give those competing demands faces, rather than leaving them as abstract questions.

Faith is woven into this world too. It influences what people believe they are doing and what they are willing to accept. That gives the journey a different flavour from science fiction that treats religion as either an obvious mistake or a piece of background decoration.

Not every discussion has the same urgency as the fleet's immediate problems. The broader mythology asks for more patience, and the series can become absorbed in its mysteries. My strongest attachment is to the people under pressure: the pilot asked to fly, the commander making a call, the civilian asked to trust it. They are what makes the larger ideas matter.

Life aboard the old ship

The Galactica's practical, cramped interiors suit the story. Phone handsets, crowded workspaces and tired faces make it feel less like a gleaming future and more like an old vessel being kept in service because nobody can afford to retire it.

The restless camera work extends that impression into the space battles. Ships don't always wait obligingly in the centre of a perfect composition. The camera seems to search for the action, which gives a fight a useful sense of confusion.

Some effects show their age. I find the physical spaces and performances more persuasive than the claim that everything about the production remains timeless. Bear McCreary's percussion-heavy music helps considerably, giving the fleet an identity beyond the familiar sound of triumphant space adventure. It suits people who are surviving rather than enjoying the voyage.

Is it worth watching now?

For a space-opera fan running short of good options, an extended stay with this cast is an attractive proposition. There is enough continuity for small decisions to accumulate, and enough personality aboard the ship to make a quiet episode worthwhile. I enjoyed following these people over a long journey.

My reservation is the uneven momentum. The immediate demands of keeping the fleet alive can be gripping; the larger mysteries don't always earn the same investment. If you want every strand to be as satisfying as the central performances, the series can test your patience.

Starbuck and Adama are what bring me back to it in memory. Sackhoff's unruly energy and Olmos's weary resolve give the struggle a human scale, even when the story is reaching for something much bigger.