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Note: This review contains significant spoilers.

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Battlestar Galactica: "The Hub"

Despite some uncertainty, a joint Colonial/Cylon mission is 
undertaken to destroy the Cylon resurrection hub and make the entire 
Cylon race mortal.

Air date: 6/6/2008 (USA)
Written by Jane Espenson
Directed by Paul Edwards

Rating out of 4: ***1/2

Review by Jamahl Epsicokhan
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Not every series could or would attempt to put such a huge question 
mark at the end of an episode, then go the entire subsequent episode 
without even *one scene* from the point of view of the characters 
most crucially involved in that question. But not every series has as 
many players as "Battlestar Galactica" and gives them such equal 
emphasis. Take, for example, the exceptionally superb "The Shield." 
It's also arc driven, but in terms of screen time, it's a little more 
biased toward Vic Mackey and the Strike Team. I don't think BSG has 
such a bias. It has a lot of characters and gives them all a lot of 
play. That's just a simple observation, not an opinion on whether one 
approach is inherently better than the other.

When you look at the three-episode structure of "Guess What's Coming 
to Dinner?", "Sine Qua Non," and now "The Hub," it's rather sublime. 
Rather than having three parts told chronologically, where we'd be 
crosscutting between all the characters, the writers have crafted two 
separate "part twos." The first part two addresses the story from the 
characters in the fleet, and the second part two addresses it from 
the characters on the basestar. Both episodes span the same time 
frame. It's fundamentally a simple concept, but also crafty.

I think it makes sense because the stories involved, while operating 
on a common thread, have very different themes. Even if told 
chronologically it would still necessitate two episodes of screen 
time. So by separating them and telling the stories on their own, 
they've actually made it easier to sustain narrative momentum in each 
thread. I admire that approach. It was also probably one of 
necessity; to show all of what goes on in each of these two episodes 
at the same time would not be easy. The story has grown so big that 
subplots have their own subplots.

But I'm getting too hung up on structure here. "The Hub" works 
because it's big, it's epic, it's emotional, and it's a major turning 
point in the BSG storyline. At the same time, it's also an intimate 
character study of Laura Roslin, who is very aware of her inevitable 
death, and realizes in her dreams/experiences/visions here that being 
the president has made her hard. The visions come every time the 
basestar makes an FTL jump. An FTL jump aboard this ship apparently 
has a special knack for bringing insight to people who need it. I 
like the notion itself that while you're in mid-jump, you might exist 
somewhere between reality and post-reality. It's kind of creepy, and 
also kind of comforting.

In these visions Roslin sees herself on her deathbed and is guided by 
the long-dead Priest Elosha, with whom Roslin was very close, and who 
laments the humanity Roslin has lost: "You don't love people," Elosha 
tells her. We realize in these scenes how the burden of being 
president has taken its toll on Roslin's soul. If indeed it's true 
that she doesn't love people, it's probably because she feels she 
can't afford to.

Back in the real world, the Hybrid's jumps are actually based on her 
own instincts; she's following the signatures left by the jumping 
resurrection hub, which means the daring attack plan might not be 
lost. If the Colonials can get into position once the basestar is in 
the hub's vicinity, they can launch their attack and destroy the 
Cylon resurrection ability forever.

The Hybrid also continues to speak its gibberish, which Roslin and 
Baltar mostly fruitlessly attempt to decode (both have experienced 
the Opera House) in strange quasi-comic scenes where they're both 
yelling at the Hybrid and trying to get its attention. I didn't think 
all the yelling worked as comedy or drama; it was merely loud 
goofiness. But in the Hybrid's gibberish we do learn that she knows 
Renegade Six was killed on Galactica, and a Sharon copy refers to her 
as "Natalie." (Like Pegasus Six aka "Gina" of season two, it's not 
until the character has been killed on-screen that we actually learn 
her name -- hence the reason I've never used it in a review before, 
despite the fact SciFi.com revealed it before season four even 
started. It's not canon 'til it's on the screen.)

"The Hub" also keeps minor subplots alive in the background. For 
example, a prominent "guest" character here (played by a regular 
actor) is a copy of Sharon that knows how to massage Helo's 
shoulders. How does she know what only Helo's wife knew? Because she 
has accessed Athena's memories that were stored after she was last 
killed/downloaded (see "Rapture"). I'll henceforth call this Sharon 
clone Athena-2. This is a bizarre turn of events and a unique 
violation of Helo's trust and Athena's individuality (although one 
wonders if Athena expected to retain that privacy having gone through 
the download process), and it serves to remind Helo (and us) of the 
real difference between humans and Cylons. As long as this 
downloading process exists, it will always serve as a reminder that 
these people maybe aren't people in the true sense, because they 
cannot die. It's all the more interesting to ponder what it will mean 
to the Cylons when that capability is gone.

So the Colonials' daring plan goes ahead: A surprise attack on the 
hub's FTL drive will disable it so an extended attack can be launched 
and the Vipers can get in close enough to nuke it. This surprise 
attack will require the Vipers to be powered off and towed via cable 
by Cylon Heavy Raiders under the guise of a peaceful approach. It 
also means the human Viper pilots must put full trust in their Cylon 
allies amid a very tenuous alliance. Athena-2 makes an impassioned 
plea to the Viper pilots to trust her and the other Cylons like just 
they trust Athena-1. (Complicated enough?) What's important to note 
about this battle plan is that it's not based on complicated, 
meaningless technical or strategic details; it's about the more human 
military aspects, like trusting your ally not to betray you, and your 
wingman not to screw up.

But trust only goes so far. When it comes to the plan to rescue 
D'Anna, who knows the identities of the Final Five, Roslin takes no 
chances; she orders Helo to bring D'Anna straight to her after she's 
unboxed and (inevitably, successfully, by episode's end) rescued from 
the hub. Helo, always the man with a code who wants to do the right 
thing, objects to this deception. When he argues for trust in the 
Cylon allies -- like he trusts his wife -- Roslin has a coolly 
delivered response: "You are not married to the entire production 
line." Fair enough; Cylon copies are individuals, and as such, you 
can't simply trust them all to behave monolithically.

The actual attack on the hub is a powerful sequence. It features a 
beautiful, wonderfully realized visual effects sequence and a 
haunting score by Bear McCreary. It has an epic, poetic -- even 
mournful -- sweep to it. The reason it works so well is because the 
creative staff is keenly aware that this is not a typical visceral 
action sequence; it's an emotional piece about the very nature of the 
Cylon existence, and how humanity and rebel Cylons have teamed up to 
fundamentally change that existence. The gravity of what's happening 
is fully conveyed through editing, through music, through feelings. 
In short, after this happens, everything will be different. The 
question is how.

If "The Hub" has a flaw, it's that its scenes cut away from 
themselves to other threads and these transitions don't always feel 
organic. Crosscutting typically isn't a problem on this series (and 
it happens all the time), but here, when there's a major space 
battle, it has to be done with extreme care, and I thought that some 
of this at times felt like explosivus interruptus. The transition 
that cuts away from the battle to Baltar standing in a corridor, 
talking to a Centurion, has an odd momentum-killing quality. We go 
instantly from the macro to the micro: The Cylons are about to lose 
their resurrection ability, and Baltar is giving a religious 
monologue to a robot.

And yet there's something hilariously perfect about Baltar pointing 
out to a Centurion that it's the low man on the totem pole -- a 
slave, in fact -- and preaching to it the word of God. Baltar's 
evangelical mandate apparently now includes toasters. (Reminding me: 
We've heard "skinjob" a lot lately; "toaster" not so much). The 
fallout from the Centurions' sentience inhibitors being removed 
in "Six of One" hasn't been explored; I hope the issue returns in 
future episodes. Perhaps this is a hint of such.

Baltar is seriously wounded when the wall explodes behind him, and 
the only one on hand to treat him is Roslin, and this leads to a 
particularly intriguing scene. Roslin bandages him, and Baltar uses 
this opportunity to explain to her his enlightenment of faith.

The evolution of Baltar from an atheist to the leading voice of the 
monotheistic movement has been quite a journey. If I wasn't quite 
convinced by it in "Escape Velocity," I most definitely am now. This 
is a true character journey that finds a way to connect the dots. 
Baltar even uses faith as a way to wash away his past sins (and 
perhaps that was one reason that necessitated his conversion: so he 
could forgive himself). In demonstrating that notion he finally 
confesses to Roslin his biggest sin of all -- that he gave up the 
access codes that allowed the Cylons to destroy the Colonies. Bang. 
Cards on the table. He juxtaposes himself to a Noah-like flood as 
described in Colonial scriptures: "Nobody blames the flood. The flood 
is a force of nature. Through the flood, mankind is rejuvenated and 
born again. I was not a flood. I blamed myself. God made the man that 
made that choice. God made us all perfect."

Hearing this is too much for Roslin, and she has a key decision here 
where she decides that Gaius Baltar must die to pay for his sins. She 
is prepared to let him bleed to death. She won't kill Baltar, but she 
won't save him, either. Is this the same as putting Baltar in the 
hands of God?

In Roslin's final vision, Elosha tells her that doling out death 
penalties cannot be done case by case. Roslin watches herself die, 
and sees the devastation it causes Adama. It's a powerful scene and 
it informs not only her epiphany about her relationship with Adama, 
but also her decision to make an about-face and save Baltar. 
Fascinating stuff. Watch Roslin's desperation as she tries to save 
Baltar, and avert her own massive sin.

Lastly, the Adama/Roslin relationship pays of here in wonderful 
fashion. Simply put, they love each other, and finally that fact is 
embraced and acknowledged. As a payoff, this is a revelation, and 
I'll tell you why. Love that is fully earned, so that you get true 
buy-in from the audience, is really hard to depict adequately on the 
screen. Really, really hard. Dysfunctional romances and coy trifles 
are a dime a dozen. But the kind of grown-up, mature, comfortable, 
trusting, fully complementing, intellectually aligned relationship 
that is Adama and Roslin -- it's a big deal to pull off convincingly. 
This is a relationship that has been built on hours of nuanced 
storytelling and terrific performances by Edward James Olmos and Mary 
McDonnell, and when it comes together like it does in this final 
moment, it must be singled out for praise.

--
Footnote: I couldn't shoehorn this naturally into the general 
discussion, but I still wanted to mention the episode's big fake-out, 
when D'Anna tells Roslin that she's the final Cylon and then has a 
good laugh over the lie. Even the music plays along. Fun stuff, 
albeit cheeky.

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Copyright 2009, Jamahl Epsicokhan. All rights reserved.
Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this article is 
prohibited.

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Jamahl Epsicokhan - jammer@...