Some series have ended their seasoned run and some are just beginning. I wanted to go into the new seasons of Lost and Battlestar Galactica with a fresh start, so I followed up on the shows I've neglected lately -- in light of where they've stood in the past, and where they're going to head in the future.

The Good - Battlestar Galactica

Revelations may be only the mid-season finale for Battlestar Galactica's final season, but it unmistakably heralds the end of our journey. In many ways, some journeys have already been completed, and the episode's subtle and not-so-subtle nods in these directions are breathtaking and tragic. In light of the series' impending conclusion, the slightest of moments become bittersweet and meaningful, while the grandest boast proudly, "The face of this series has changed forever."

As the Cylons and Colonials seem bent on mutual destruction, Col Tigh takes matters into his own hands and tells Adama the truth, offering himself as a sacrifice on the altar of truth and justice and the Colonial way (that damned Cylon! *tear*). The moment is perfect, from the heartbreaking acting of Michael Hogan (noble to the last) and Edward James Olmos (in one of his rare displays of emotion), to the swelling music, and this being the mid-season finale of the final season, all bets are off.

But for every grand moment, there is one just as beautiful in its subtlety. Chief Tyrol, one of the most quietly self-assured characters throughout the first three seasons, is broken and re-made in season 4 into a lost wreck, reminiscent of The Dark Knight's Joker, at odds with the insanity of the entire world. Anders has the audacity to be surprised by the guards that come for him, but Tyrol laughs, appreciating the bitter irony of the situation. His haggard nod to Tigh is another understated, powerful moment, thanks to the reserved acting of Aaron Douglas.

The tension builds with expert precision... Tigh in the airlock alone seems doomed, yet when Anders and Tyrol join him, their safety in numbers is assured. Nobody would kill off three major characters with untold stories in one fell swoop -- so Anders and Tyrol are forced to leave, once again raising the stakes. Tigh yells, "What are you waiting for Apollo, do it!" and for a split-second the death of this tragic character is imminent, unavoidable, and wholly appropriate.

Before the choir-accompanied arrival at Earth is complete, however, another of the series' journeys is finally over: D'Anna repeats the religious mantra "All this has happened before," and Lee takes a bold step, replying, "But it doesn't have to happen again." And then the scene that everybody's been talking about since Revelations aired... its mind-frakking value is off the charts. It artistic beauty as a single, lasting image, is iconic. And the subtle moments it leaves us with are frightening -- for years we have watched these characters on their admirable search for a home they never knew, and now they are presented with the reality that that search had been for nothing. The sacrifices made have been for nothing. As we watch the characters adjust to their lot, clinging to each other when it seems they have nothing left (Tori's hopeless gesture; Caprica coming to Tigh's side), it's the embittered Tyrol that has the last, empty laugh.

The Bad - Dexter

Season 3 has been kind to Dexter. The character of Miguel Prado, played to perfection by Jimmy Smits, added an unrivaled burst of emotion to the show, only somewhat foreshadowed by the explosive Sergeant Doakes. Through Miguel, his first true friend, Dexter began to feel things he had never known before -- care, worry, regret, and loss. The final fifteen seconds of "I Had a Dream," the penultimate episode, are a flawless rendition of the pain Dexter, and we as his fellow human beings, are going through knowing that he may never experience friendship again, as the color is literally sucked out of his life. The season was full of such great analogies, thrilling action, mind-bending games of cat-and-mouse, and character development for a number of secondaries. Even the music stepped up a notch, adding a distinctly Spanish, noble sound to its repertoire of themes.

Then why does it all feel so wrong?

TVtropes calls it fridge logic. It's the sort of thing you only think about once you're done watching and are walking about the house, and suddenly it hits you "Why the hell did everything end so conveniently?"

And above all else, that is the best word to describe Dexter's third, and for this viewer final, season: "convenient." That standard, tried-and-true solution is the only one the writers could find to tackle Dexter's complex issues. Instead of attempting to come to some resolution with Miguel, the vengeful (a human quality) attorney is made into a distinctly inhuman psychopath, with not even Dexter's moral code to guide him. "What if Prado was a good, albeit flawed person, instead of the freakshow that loosed a serial killer on Miami? Would Dexter have continued on his path to becoming a normal person through his growing family? Would he have been able to overcome his dysfunctions?"

All great questions, but all we can do is speculate now that the show has clearly left them in the dust, and firmly stated, "We prefer to have more seasons of this show using its tried-and-true formula of psychotic villain per season than to seriously address the issues Dexter Morgan presents to society." If a single morally-bound serial killer can exist in Dexter, there is precedent for more of such well-intentioned dysfunctional human beings, yet the brooding, compelling Michael C. Hall tells us: "No, there can only be I. Everybody else is truly a monster, and I will kill one especially psychotic one per season."

The socially beneficial qualities I praised Dexter for in the past seem laughed at, mocked, by this finale, which insists that traditional TV schedule, even through coincidence in writing, is superior to actually addressing these concerns. A flawed human being is turned into a monster for the sole purpose of a season finish that allows the next season to start as though nothing had happened. Dexter has killed his brother, his mistress, and his friend. I can only imagine what sort of wacky adventures await him in season 4. Will he have to confront the monster discovered in his sister Deb, unleashed by her findings of Morgan Sr.'s unfaithfulness? Or will Dexter have to put Rita, his wife, out of her misery, once she starts killing people due to a miscarriage?

God forbid the show subvert the status quo.

The Ugly - Californication

Let's be clear on one thing: Californication is a show that premiered with Hank Moody receiving fellatio in a church to The Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want." Its protagonist is a sexaholic who hates the city he lives in, because that's a lot easier than taking responsibility for his life. But there is a fine line between embellished observations about human nature, whether they take place in the office or in the bedroom, whether they are dramatic or hysterical, or both at the same time, and pursuing obscenity for obscenity's sake.

Thanks to David Duchovny's pitch-perfect portrayal of Hank Moody, from his sardonic wit to his genuine affection toward his friends and family (whether that means making sure his daughter's doing okay in school or that his best friend isn't discovered cheating on his wife with his kinky assistant), season one was an instant ****c. We saw Los Angeles through Hank's distorted perspective, and saw Hank through the city's, which, more often than not, was the more reliable of the two. I wrote, what seems like ages ago, in the Whore of Babylon review:

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"There are things I need to figure out. For [Becca's] sake at least.

The clock is ticking. The gap is widening. She won't always love me "no matter what."

For all the sex and nudity, the crass jokes and witty banter, it is ultimately Hank's unquestionable love for his daughter that inspires him to work through his own issues, even when it would be so much easier to drown in a sea of endless female genitalia.
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Californication was not the only modern dramedy about living the life -- Entourage is in a far more prime position for that -- but David Duchovny took advantage of the focus on a broken family by providing insights on genuine love and responsibility.

It is tempting to watch Evan Handler's interactions with his secretary and say, "That's not so different from what happens in Season 2." But it is. In season 1, the raunchy subplots were a diversion from the main course offered by Hank, yet many of season 2's episodes focus on the dysfunctional Runkles who spend half of the season doing cocaine, half of the season filming a porn flick, and a good portion attempting to do both at the same time.

If it sounds funny, it probably was. But Californication used to have more to offer than just "funny," and from the outside looking in, one might guess that the writers simply decided to crank up the obscenity factor until it was the only thing left on show. These scenes are necessary, as they might be the core of the show's humor and nature, but without the relevant human element to connect them, they are meaningless and forgettable. Without impacting Hank's journey as a father, lover, and human being, they are trivial adventures, nothing more.

Maybe David Duchovny should have taken Hank's epiphany to heart. The clock was ticking. We wouldn't always love Californication no matter what.

Reviews End

A little bit of early Spring cleaning! Let me know what you think, and make sure to tune in in a few days for reviews of Battlestar and Lost's new seasons and where the shows might go in the time they have left.

-pW