Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT What Kind Of Father
By Jacob Clifton | Season 4 | Episode 12 | Aired on 01.23.2009
She asks for the punchline, and here it is: "The charges at the time were 'collaborating with an enemy in a time of war.' It turns out the jury that convicted me was made of two Cylons and a woman married to a Cylon." That joke needs work, Felix. She slams the table, sick of all this crap when all she wants to do is rest and get some answers that don't involve her being the Harbinger of Death, and everybody looks. Mission accomplished. For a trained opera singer, Felix has a real flair for drama. She plays right into it, every button lovingly pushed in the time it took to knock Cally up.
"Are we done? Oh, no, wait. I'm sorry, I forgot. We haven't gotten to the leg yet." Gaeta turns his body to the audience, opening their conversation up to them even more. "Fifty billion people are dead, and I'm supposed to give a frak about your leg?" Perfect: "Who killed those fifty billion people, Kara?" Um, not me? "No, it was your husband." Kara asks if this is how he's getting his (half) kicks these days, because she still can't see what he's doing. She doesn't enjoy doing this, but she thinks it's emotional processing for him, with the leg and the near-death and whatever. Dee. She has no idea he's gone so dark there aren't even any running lights; she doesn't know he found and burnt his own corpse, under cover of night, without telling anybody. "What was Sam doing on Caprica before he so conveniently met you? You ever wonder?" Ask Jane Espenson this spring, because Felix isn't even talking to Kara anymore: she's just the apostrophe for the speech he always meant to give.
"You think maybe he... nuked a few cities? Executed a few thousand prisoners? I'm just wondering. Well then again, maybe you're a Cylon too." A button he doesn't even know she had to push. She shoves back again, going to the leg, quips failing. If you belong to a group that has real bad, hurtful words associated with it, the kind of sticks-and-stones words that you try not to feel when you hear them, then you know that at some point somebody will say that word to you. Not out of actual hate, but just out of the desire to hurt you, striking anywhere, gloves off. When your vision goes red and apocalyptic and your need to hit back overrides all your good-person training, and you resort to the lowest common denominator. And if somebody says one of those words to you, you have the option of letting it go, and saying, "I know you only said that word because you are incredibly angry and out of control, not because you have this secret deep-seated hatred of what I am categorically." But you can't ever really be friends with them the same way, once that wall falls down. And I feel like the leg jokes are just that: she's seeing red, and instead of snapping his neck like she should, she has just enough control to hit him in the amputee place, over and over again, begging him to stop.
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