BSG “Islanded in a Stream of Stars” – Finding One’s Place To Call Home
As the penultimate episode of the BSG series, “Islanded in a Stream of Stars” is unlikely to be remembered as one of the series most dramatic or memorable episodes in terms of specific moments or events. However, as we’ve seen in the previous episodes following the discovery of Earth, the focus of the series in this last leg has been an internal examination of how the principal characters are dealing with the new reality of there being no real collective goal for them to rally around. This particular episode continues on that approach and in doing so, shines a light on the very heart of the series – how will these characters find their new home.
The scene in sickbay between Adama and Roslyn sums up this episode’s message best when Roslyn starts discussing the idea of home, that perhaps it’s not so much a specific physical space but more a state of mind and the individuals who populate your life. Looking out from that lens, it becomes apparent that Roslyn is one step closer to her proverbial death bed because she’s realized that, for her at least, she has come to the end of her search for a home. In some ways, her journey is like Gaeta’s in that it’s only when she is nearing the end of her life that she is finally able to free herself of all the burdens – of tending to the fleet as a sheepherder does to his flock – and is now able to take out her emotions from whatever internal box she’s kept them in all these years and at last experience genuine peace. Her admission that it’s only been in the last few months that she has been able to feel this sense of contentment replacing that feeling of longing is a stark contrast to the realities that have been plaguing the rest of the fleet’s population. In some ways, this is becoming the thematic reality for the series – that the fleet’s population will never gain a home in the collective sense. Instead, the concept of home is something that needs to be resolved on an individual, internally-driven level.
This idea carries forward in the scenes where Boomer shares with Hera her vision of what she had hoped would have been the place she could call home. The moment when Boomer shows Hera what she imagined to be her own daughter’s room reinforces the sad truth that Boomer will never find her home, in some ways marking the character contextually as a doomed one (On an aside, I have to admit I was disappointed to see that Boomer’s abduction of Hera was a planned move by John/Cavil all along, the reasons for which I explained in last week’s review. Mind you, it was hardly surprising to have John/Cavil admit to it being a ruse given Boomer’s earlier statement to Hera about this house being her dream of a place she wanted to build with the man she loved – past tense. Tyrol’s noticeable absence, especially at the memorial ceremonies for the crew members lost at the start of the episode, was certainly odd and I wished time would have been made for at least a simple line explaining his whereabouts on the heels of last week’s events).
Even Gaius appears to be searching for that sense of home with his reaching out to Caprica Six. With his statement to his followers that he sees angels – his rationalization for the visions he has of Head Six – it becomes clear that Gaius believes, or perhaps just hopes, that Caprica Six can provide him with that missing puzzle piece he needs to fill in that hole inside him. As Caprica Six points out, Gaius hasn’t really changed as he’s clearly only looking at Caprica Six as a means to fulfil his longing as he offers her in return only superficial comfort in the form of a place to stay. After the loss of her child, Caprica Six clearly needs more than that and Gaius’ failure to realize that is yet another reminder for her that she is truly alone and adrift.
Ironically, Gaius’ sermon regarding the nature of angels sets the stage for Starbuck to gain that closure she’s been seeking not just in trying to make sense of the implications of finding her charred remains back on Cylon Earth, but also of her role in this grand scheme that’s still being played out. Despite her resentment for Gaius’ manipulation of her reality to further his own notions, his announcement at the end of the memorial service regarding his findings in many ways frees her of this burden, allowing her to come to terms with what she’s no doubt felt deep inside, but clearly needed someone else to bring to light. Her placement of her picture on the memorial wall between the images of Kat and Dee is an acknowledgement that whatever Kara Thrace was before no longer exists, despite Lee’s attempts to state otherwise. And in some ways, the fact that she returns to Anders for help in trying to figure out what is the significance of the song “All Along The Watchtower” is indicative that, like Roslyn, Starbuck’s sense of longing for home has less to do with a place and more to do with needing someone to help give her a purpose, a reason to keeping pushing forward (the fact that Anders ends up sounding a lot like one of the Cylon baseship hybrids reinforces my assumption that the Daniel Cylon models ended up becoming the hybrids and not the more favoured idea of being Kara’s dad. Having Gaius explicitly pointing out that Kara wasn’t a Cylon when he reveals to everyone what Starbuck admitted to him earlier was probably meant to clear away that idea so that the significance of Kara’s rebirth or reincarnation is not diminished).
The sad twist in all of this of course is the character arc being played out for Adama. With each passing episode, we’re beginning to realize that although he took it on as his mission to find the fleet’s populace a home, the reality for him was that he already had one in the form of Galactica and the people who crew the ship. It’s only now that Adama is starting to lose his home, his rock in a sea of stormy waters. Listening to the story of the beat cop that he reads to Roslyn, one couldn’t help but see Adama in that part, of someone walking on that very same path and noticing how the world he once knew is slowing disappearing before his eyes. The scene where he stops in the corridor and takes off his rank insignia and cradles the pins in his palm is strong in its symbolism – those pins literally identify who he is, but with Galactica now dying all around him, what do these tiny pieces he cradles really mean anymore and consequently, who will he become after it’s all gone. His flash of rage in his cabin when he picks up the paint brush is the last wall of the facade he’s built inside himself crumbling before him and with it the realization that a simple coat of paint cannot change the fate of his ship. When Adama admits to Tigh at the episode’s end that they must let Galactica go, Tigh at first cannot accept such an idea, refuses it even as his role as the ship’s XO. Of course, this is not because he cares for Galactica more than Adama; rather, it’s because he knows that Galactica is a large part of who his best friend is and he knows only too well the personal cost such a decision will have on Adama. The parting shot panning away from Adama and Tigh as they sit in resignation on the couch in Adama’s quarters captures the tragic eloquence of this moment given how only these two men can truly appreciate the significance of what Galactica’s demise represents.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that the fleet is becoming more disparate than cohesive, something which was poignantly demonstrated with the overlapping of different memorial services throughout the fleet for the workers lost at the beginning of the episode. While in the mini-series, we saw a ragtag fleet gathering together as a whole to collectively mourn their shared loss, to commiserate in the company of each other, in this episode, we see a group of people moving further and further apart. Indeed, one can very well appreciate that the symbolic shift from representation for each of the 13 colonies to one for each ship represents the creation of new social allegiances borne out of their new shared realities of living onboard the various ships that make up the fleet. The ability of these captains to so quickly turn into vultures swirling around the now dying Galactica is without question the most tangible indicator of this shifting reality and possibly the restart of the cycle down the road of new colonies being created on the basis of each ship’s population. The combination of the failed experiment of New Caprica and the recent mutiny have undoubtedly left their mark on the fleet with the realization that the fleet cohesion they held onto for all these years is something that can no longer be taken for granted.
Anders’ little moment of hybrid-rambling the rhyme “there’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza” is not only a remark regarding the current state of Galactica, with the enormous hole left in its side thanks to Boomer, it’s also a reflection on the state of the principal characters at this point in regards to their continued search for some means to fill that hole and with it quell the longing for an idea called home.
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