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In spite of my increasing disgruntlement with the show, I still feel a sort of fond protectiveness towards Battlestar Galactica's mid-second-season "Pegasus" arc. Partly this is because, even taking into account its weak ending, "Pegasus"/"Resurrection Ship" is the last genuinely good and satisfying story Galactica told, the last time the show was really as smart, nuanced, and thought-provoking as its die-hard supporters still believe it to be. Mostly, though, it's because if Galactica's fans and former fans don't stand up for "Pegasus," who will? Certainly not the show's writers, who in the two years since it aired seem to have taken every opportunity to debase the story of the deranged, vengeful Admiral Cain and the choices that her obsession with retaliation against the Cylons force Adama and Roslin to make. The story itself ended poorly, following up the harrowing "Pegasus" and "Resurrection Ship I" with a limp, underperforming hour of television in which all of the characters were spared making tough or meaningful decisions by a literal deus (or dea) ex machina. Then the consequences of the arc's events, for both the main characters and the new population which joined the fleet at the end of "Resurrection Ship II," were swept under the rug. And then we were treated to a shabby, soulless reenactment of the arc in the mid-third-season story "Torn"/"A Measure of Salvation," right down to the copout ending. And now we have the TV movie "Razor," in which the whole story is rehashed one more time. Sadly, for those of us hoping for an intelligent treatment of the question of morality versus expediency, third time is not the charm.

"Razor" proceeds in two alternating plotlines. The first describes events aboard Pegasus under Admiral Cain's command between the Cylon attack on the colonies and its meeting with the Galactica. The second takes place after Lee Adama takes command of Pegasus at the end of the second season episode "The Captain's Hand," and before the presidential election at the end of that season. In both stories, the main character is Lt. Kendra Shaw (Stephanie Chaves-Jacobsen), who comes aboard Pegasus just moments before the Cylon attack, and, as a result of the kind of rank inflation that is symptomatic of a career in the post-apocalyptic colonial fleet, is made its XO under Lee's command. (A third plotline takes place during the first Cylon war and stars a young, and improbably hot, Bill Adama. It was, however, cut for time, and features in the movie as only a single flashback. The remainder of this story has been made available as downloadable webisodes from the Sci Fi Channel's website.)

When I heard that "Razor" would revisit Pegasus under Cain's command, my immediate reaction was that this was a story that didn't need telling. In its earlier seasons, Galactica's writers seemed to embrace the famous maxim that a story should start as close to the middle as possible. Unfortunately, there's a trend towards completeness in storytelling these days, which perhaps dates back to the Star Wars prequels (not that these are a shining example of the concept's success). Having started in the middle, writers feels compelled to circle back to the beginning (which can sometimes mean going several generations into the past) in order fill in even the tiniest gap, even when what little seasoning of new information they sprinkle on their twice-told tale can't possibly justify their demands of the audience's time and patience.

I expected, in other words, that the pre-"Pegasus" segment of "Razor" would offer little in the way of new information, and that its appeal would rest mainly in the opportunity it would offer to spend more time with Michelle Forbes's terrifying Admiral Cain. (This, I suspect, is the primary impetus behind "Razor"'s existence, in the time-honored tradition of television shows bringing back beloved characters even though they have no idea what to do with them. See also Spike and Logan Echolls.)

To a certain extent, this is indeed what Ronald D. Moore and his fellow writers serve up. All the highlights of the Pegasus's history—previously laid out in maybe ten cumulative minutes in "Pegasus"—are reenacted in "Razor." Cain saves her ship by making a blind FTL jump away from the Cylon attack (an absolutely stunning visual effects sequence that gives the current holder of the title of Battlestar Galactica's coolest image—Galactica breaking atmo in the third season episode "Exodus II"—a serious run for its money); she shoots her XO for mutiny when he refuses to carry out her orders; the Cylon Gina earns Cain's trust and is discovered, jailed, and tortured ruthlessly and remorselessly; Cain strips civilian ships full of survivors of supplies and skilled personnel, leaving their remaining passengers to die in space, and orders her crew to shoot civilians who resist her orders.

"Razor" does a little to expand on these events, but hardly enough to justify the lengths at which it depicts them. There is, for example, confirmation of the theory that Galactica's fans have been treating as fact almost since "Pegasus" first aired, that Cain and Gina were lovers, but the two are hardly ever on screen together, and we learn next to nothing about the level of intimacy they shared or the depth of feelings they had for each other. On those occasions, however, when "Razor" tells us something new, we could easily be forgiven for wishing the writers had kept their mouths shut. We learn, for instance, that the reason Pegasus was able to escape the Cylon attack is that its computer network was offline for repairs when the attack happened. But the person performing those repairs is Gina—as if it weren't bad enough that we have to handwave away the Cylons' choice to launch their carefully coordinated, meticulously planned doomsday attack the day before the one ship capable of resisting their weapons was due to be decommissioned.

This is, however, a minor plot hole, and far more egregious are the blows that "Razor" strikes against "Pegasus" and the flawed, complicated woman at its core. Written when Galactica was still at the height of its complexity, "Pegasus" worked hard to avoid easy indictment or approval of Cain's actions. She came off as a person who had gone astray, who had spent so long struggling to survive that she forgot to wonder what she was surviving for, and whose self-identity as a soldier had taken precedence over the soldier's purpose—to protect the state and its citizens. One could imagine Cain making one slightly questionable choice after another, veering, ever so slowly, further and further off her moral course, until she finally arrived at the monstrous person we meet in "Pegasus," who plots to assassinate her fellow officer and to unseat a legal government.

This is not the character as "Razor" presents her. There is no gradual attrition of Cain's morality here. The initial escape from the Cylons, the murder of Pegasus's XO (for objecting to a mission that ends up costing the lives of 800 crewmembers in order to destroy an insignificant target, and which is clearly motivated solely by Cain's desire to strike back at the Cylons), Gina's discovery, and the murder and abandonment of the civilians all seem to take place within days, a week at most, of one another. We never see Cain struggle with her choices or question herself. She seems to have become a monster the moment the Cylons attacked—or perhaps was one already. Thus is one of Battlestar Galactica's most fascinating characters reduced to a common lunatic.

More interesting, and to my mind more successful, is the nearer past plotline. Writing about "Resurrection Ship II" soon after its original airing, and attempting to justify its copout ending, I said:

As we saw when the Pegasus crewmen came to attack Helo and Tyrol, Admiral Cain's choices have had a ... corrosive effect on her crew, and there's no question in my mind that Cain's death will solve very little in the short term. Some of her crew will no doubt reassess their behavior in the wake of their exposure to the fleet and its more normative moral compass, but others have crossed a line that can never be un-crossed.

Galactica's subsequent season and a half did very little to make good on my prediction, but "Razor" finally does, albeit in a less than exhaustive manner (although it addresses the effects of Cain's orders on the people who followed them, the movie doesn't discuss her victims—the civilians she press-ganged and whose families she murdered, who presumably joined the fleet's general population at the end of "Resurrection Ship"). It does so through the new character, Kendra Shaw. In the far past plotline, Shaw is an observer, and occasionally an extension of Cain's will. In the more recent past, she is, as she tells Lee, "Cain's legacy," someone who has imbibed Cain's ethos of expediency triumphing over morality and soldiering as an end in its own right, and who is struggling to come to terms with the choices she made and the horrors she witnessed under Cain's command. The story—which involves a missing science mission, a prototype of the Cylon-human hybrid previously seen as both navigator and oracle for the Cylon basestars, and, hilariously, a return of the chrome-plated, synthesizer-voiced original flavor Cylons from the 1978 series (or, as the current series would have it, the first Cylon war)—is told through her eyes, and if "Razor" is at all successful, it is due to this character and to Chaves-Jacobsen's gutsy, unsentimental performance.

Like the best Galactica writing from days of yore, Shaw's characterization is achieved through its absence. She barely speaks, unless it's to blankly respond to Lee's queries or to issue orders to her terrified subordinates in an equally blank tone. Blank is, in fact, as good a word as any with which to describe Shaw, but is she blank because she's tamping down her emotions lest they overwhelm her, or because her actions have hollowed her out and left her incapable of feeling anything at all? This is "Razor"'s central question. Following the murder of the civilians, Cain tells Shaw that she must become a razor if she ever hopes to have the chance to become human again, but "Razor" suggests that the choice to dehumanize oneself is not so easily reversed—it's possible that there is no salvation, no redemption, for Shaw.

The choice to center one's story around a character who may be damned is a bold one, and if there's any justification for the character assassination "Razor" commits on Cain it is that this choice gives us Shaw, a character whose fate, unlike Cain's, is not known at the beginning of the movie (though given that she's a high-ranking officer who is never heard from again it's not difficult to guess how things work out for her). In the far past storyline, Shaw never questions Cain's actions and even justifies and enables them. Her unquestioning loyalty leaves the viewers a gap through which they can come to the opposite conclusion without feeling that they've been hectored into it. In the nearer past, Shaw's similar no-nonsense, unapologetic attitude towards her own sins is both refreshing and challenging in a show that has become so unbearably talky, in an all-sizzle-and-no-steak sort of way, about moral dilemmas. It encourages us to wish for her salvation even as we begin to doubt that it is possible. Shaw invites us to judge her without ever offering a single excuse or explanation for her actions. She makes it clear that she couldn't give a damn what conclusion we, or her fellow officers, come to, but at the same time she is clearly yearning for some higher power to pass judgement on her. Shaw herself doesn't know if she wants to be punished or forgiven, and though the movie's ending does both, it is left to us to decide which one she truly deserved.

Unfortunately, this is the new new Galactica, whose viewers can't be allowed the luxury of coming, unaided, to their own conclusions about a character. Nor can they be trusted to realize that conclusion-drawing is in order, and so the movie ends with a coda in which Lee and Bill Adama rehash its events and Cain's actions—thus turning her, and not the infinitely more interesting Shaw, back into the story's focal point.

Adama trots out the justifications and explanations for Cain's actions that fans came up with after "Pegasus" aired—the ones invalidated by the preceding 90 minutes of television. Cain had no one around to call her on the monstrousness of her actions and keep her honest—but as we've just seen, she did, and her response to his criticism was to put a bullet in his head. That for the rest of Cain's tenure as Pegasus's commanding officer, not a single one of her underlings dared to question her orders, though they clearly doubt, and are appalled by, many of them, is rather obviously because of a justifiable fear for their lives. Cain was doing what was necessary to keep her people alive—this is using a definition of "her people" which conveniently excludes the 800 lives lost to a hopeless, pointless attack motivated purely by a desire for vengeance, not to mention the murdered and abandoned civilians.

If "Razor" does anything to rehabilitate Cain, it does so by drawing a comparison between her and Bill Adama, who in this scene is putting the finishing touches on his famous three-step dance of managerial incompetence and general mindfuckery. Step one: proffer trust in an underling. Step two: micromanage and undermine said underling, most especially at crucial, public junctures (Adama does this twice in "Razor," first when he appoints himself Pegasus's backup commander during the rescue mission, and later when he belays Lee's order to sacrifice the rescue team and their targets when contact with them is lost). Step three: wait for your codependent victim, now riddled with doubt and thoroughly emasculated, to come to you for solace and validation. Against this manipulative, passive-aggressive bullshit, Cain's straightforward, albeit occasionally homicidal, managerial approach is very nearly a relief.

In the end, however, my greatest and most meaningful complaint against "Razor" is one that will seem, at first glance, like sheer pettiness, and that is that the prop we see Cain fondle throughout the movie, which she bequeaths to Shaw and which Shaw passes on to Starbuck, is not a razor but a knife. It has a pointed blade, the better to stick in things (or people), which a razor is most emphatically not supposed to have. This is because, as several dictionaries will attest, a razor is not a weapon but a tool, and this, in turn, invalidates the movie's central metaphor—Cain's line about becoming a razor in order to survive. The prop, in other words, is entirely correct for the point the writers think they're making. It's their words that are inaccurate—possibly because "razor" sounds cooler than either "knife" or "blade" (and the latter, at any rate, has very different connotations in an SF context).

This is not, however, a mere nitpicking observation. This simple, easily-avoidable prop and language mix-up is, I believe, an illustration in miniature of everything that's gone wrong with Battlestar Galactica since "Pegasus" aired. From a challenging, thought-provoking series, Galactica has become the kind of show that tells us we're seeing one thing (suicide bombings, sexual chemistry, genuine leadership skills) while actually depicting another (kamikaze attacks against military targets, the Lee/Dee romance, musical montages of the admiral patting people on the shoulder), and the kind of show whose writers prefer to say something that sounds cool or transgressive—so long as it's not examined too closely—over saying something genuinely meaningful.

Abigail Nussbaum ( works as a software engineer in Tel Aviv, Israel. Her work has previously appeared in the Internet Review of Science Fiction and the Israeli SFF quarterly the Tenth Dimension. She blogs on matters genre and otherwise at Asking the Wrong Questions.

Abigail Nussbaum is a blogger and critic. She blogs at Asking the Wrong Questions and tweets as @NussbaumAbigail.
8 comments on “Battlestar Galactica: Razor”
Brian from Dublin

Excellent review. Watching Razor, the problems that you've outlined were bouncing around my head but I couldn't quite put them to words. I was very disappointed with the film, the cast were good, the script was insulting to be honest, and I thought some of the editing left a lot to be desired. Does Adama seriously believe that Cain's assault on the Communications relay was "tactically justifiable"??? She thought she was the only ship left in the fleet and a good use of that ship was walking into a trap for a communications relay?

I agree with a lot of this, but I'm confused about the last sentence.
"From a challenging, thought-provoking series, Galactica has become the kind of show that tells us we're seeing one thing (suicide bombings, sexual chemistry, genuine leadership skills) while actually depicting another (kamikaze attacks against military targets, the Lee/Dee romance, musical montages of the admiral patting people on the shoulder), and the kind of show whose writers prefer to say something that sounds cool or transgressive—so long as it's not examined too closely—over saying something genuinely meaningful."
Just out of curiousity, what exactly do you take to be the difference between "kamikaze attacks" carried out by people dressed as civilians, with bombs strapped to their chests under their clothing, and "suicide bombings"? Suicide bombings--in Iraq, Israel/Palestine and elsewhere--are after all not infrequently directed against military targets, right? Even if the majority of the time they're directed against civilian targets, sometimes they're directed at military targets, and often against targets that, depending on your point of view, might be described as either civilian or military.
Not a suicide bombing case, but e.g. in Falluja a few years ago, several "security employees" were killed and dragged around the streets who tended to be described in the American media as "civilian contractors," but who were form the Iraqi perspective armed mercenaries working for the occupiers who were the very definition of legitimate military targets.
In fact, the primary suicide bombing we got to see in the "occupation of New Caprica" arc on BSG was of precisely this type...a suicide bombing of the graduation ceremony for the new trainees of the New Caprica Police Force in an effort to kill Baltar. From the perspective of the resistance, this was certainly an appropriate military target, given the importance of that police force in enforcing the occupation and the status of Baltar as a collaborator with the invaders. From the perspective of the government, this sounds like, on the other hand, a suicide bombign directed against the civilian police force in an effort to assassinate a civilian (and, no less, elected) official. If the same happened in Iraq--the resistance sent a suicide bomber to a police graduation in an effort to take out Prime Minister al-Maliki--this is precisely how both sides would describe it, right?
As such, at least on the suicide bombing issue, how exactly was the show telling us that it was showing us something other than what it was?


If I watch this without seeing Season 3 am I in for spoilers? I need a BSG fix and Razor seems to fit the bill but I don't want to spoil anything I haven't seen yet (as in all of Sea. 3)

I think there are some very valid points in this review.
If Cain were a madwoman, how would have made rear Admiral. Most military organizations eventually detect pathological behavior.
No regrets? About what she did to the civilians? To her former lover. Hardly realistic. She must have had regrets.
I think the reason her crew never rebelled against her was fear. The marines as we saw even when Garner had command backed her without question.
I personally believe in playing it over again my own way. I'm doing just that with a 3D role play simulator in
I really wish a third battlestar escaped from the Colonies.
I think it was criminally stupid to sacrifice the battlestar with the viper factor aboard. Bad writing, bad plot, potentially fatal mistake for a society on the edge of extinction. They should have demoted Lee Adama to specialist for that.


Has anyone considered that shows like BSG start out brilliantly, then devolve into mediocrity due to the very fact of their success? When television networks are trying new things, desperate to get viewership, they are capable of experimenting with things that are truly "out there"...things 'dangerous' to think about, things frightening, uncomfortable, and, preferably, highly disturbing on more than just a fear level. When networks are either small or reeling under the pressure of other successful shows, they try for the "breakout" programs.
But the moment that breakout program becomes adored and obtains a high viewership, they STRENUOUSLY try to play it safe, and tone it down. More and more viewers make it more and more mainstream. More mainstream means more danger of rocking the many boats of delicate sensibilities. Hence, the more 'influence' a program becomes, the more producers are concerned about doing anything that MIGHT lose that influence, because there would, of course, be a corrolary loss In OTHER words...increasing fame and celebrity almost always mean an increasing avoidance of any serious controversy...which in turn, ironically, is an avoidance of the very things that helped make the show so popular. Successful producers and writers thus want to have their cake and eat it too, with the predictable results of increasing tepidity throughout the production.
On another front...why must Cain have had regrets, these days, for the things she does/did? The backstory of her abandoning her sister to survive gives the obvious possibility that from that moment on, she was more on the end emotional deadness than life. She made her choices, and at the tender cusp of adolescence, she had to live with them forever. If she could do that, why WOULD she have any qualms about executing her XO...and good friend...right in the CIC at the drop of a hat? 'He disobeys a direct order, he dies. Yeah, life sucks. Now does the next officer want to be executed? No? Good: do the damn job.'
Abandoning her sister in order to survive was the moment Cain died inside, even if it was slower than in a single instant. Successfully rationalize that kind of act over time, and everything else becomes gravy.


On Adama's rationalizing of Cain: don't we, the viewers, know a lot more about her at that point than he did? I thought that was part of the point.
I'm pretty sure the suicide bombing of the New Caprica police graduates *was* intended to sow fear, among would-be collaborators with the Cylons--as well as to kill the current collaborators. More like attacks on, say, US-affiliated police institutions in Iraq than on attacks on random civilians in Israel.


I thought RAZOR did great fleshing out of Admiral Helena Cain and her motivations through the lens of Kendra Shaw. As noted by another commenter above, the loss of her family (particularly her sister) in the First Cylon War emotionally hardened/deadened her inside. It's little wonder her brutal/amoral survivalist instincts pushed her to gun down, in her eyes, insubordinate XO Jurgen Belgen and strip the Civilian Fleet she encountered without regrets and violence. The Pegasus under Cain was the dark mirror to Galactica and this film built on that assertion fantastically. Thus was similar to how Star Trek:Voyager showed a dark mirror of their ship in the USS Equinox, in the two-parter of the same name.

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