Sci-Fi Necrolepsy: I was only a little bit dead.
I promised myself I wasn’t going to go on and on and on about what I don’t like on film, and focus on the things I do like, but the mental rant I keep returning to when I’m wandering about doing nothing things is the concept of death in Sci-Fi (as a genre).
Sci-Fi’s relationship with death is disturbing. The fact that any character who’s killed off for some reason or other can just be brought back and carry on as though nothing was wrong sucks any emotional impact out of any dangerous situation the characters may be put in. I find myself unable to worry about the main characters in most Sci-Fi beyond a simple ‘oh, how are they going to get out of this one?’ which usually develops to ‘oh, that’s how they got out of that one. Hey, wow, I have solitaire on this computer.’ This is usually due to the fact that, if they do die, they’ll most likely be back in some form or other, or, if they’re main characters, they were never really in any danger to begin with.
As a viewer, I tend to develop attachments to my favourite characters. It’s what we do; how we interact with the shows on more than just a passive level. These attachments (relationships, not in an erotomaniacal sense, perhaps?) are what keep me invested in the show and its relative success. As I stated in a previous entry: Movies are a one night stand, Television is an abusive relationship. The emotional highs and lows are what keep me coming back to television time and time again. If I can’t get those emotional highs and lows because I can never really worry about the welfare of the characters, then the entire thing becomes a moot point and I’m essentially watching sexless porn. (My, those actors are pretty, I wonder what ridiculous situation they’ll be put in next. Ho hum.)
Occasionally, character resurrections are done well within the context of the piece. I’m thinking mostly Buffy* (s1, pretty lame, but s6 dealt with it well), and Alien: Resurrection (sure, the movie was average, but the resurrection was handled relatively well, plus: Dourif and Perlman, ftw). I’m sure there are others, but these are the ones my brain has, inexplicably, decided to focus on. Anyway, the reasons these resurrections worked? Because they dealt with the ramifications of bringing someone back from the dead, something which a lot of Sci-Fi doesn’t really do.
Take, for example, the Stargate universe. Characters are yo-yo-ing in and out of this and other plains of existence, blown to itty bitty pieces and cloned, misplaced, found under a rock on a distant planet covered in cream cheese and doing the hula. (Okay, maybe that last one’s an exaggeration.) The deaths in these series ultimately mean nothing. If the characters can just pop back into the canon with minimal fuss, then it’s the sci-fi equivalent of stepping out of the shower and finding out it was all just a dream. It really feels like I’m being cheated out of an emotional response. If I can’t mourn for a character (yes, yes, fiction, stfu), then what’s the point in feeling anything for any of the characters?
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy watching the shows (well, I enjoy Sheppard and McKay, and they have the least likelihood of anything bad ever happening to them, see: guano loco fans having the writers guts for garters, then deploy the plot armour, allons-y Alonzo), but I can never really get past it being like a coffee table book; pretty and an excellent conversation starter, but not really having any lasting impact unless it’s thrown with great force at a dissenter’s head.
Sometimes, a death will come along, and you’ll know it’s a ‘real’ death. (Spoilers: highlight to view. Yes, even five+ years later.) Anya in the Buffy s7 finale, Buffy’s mother in the episode which proved that people don’t need a musical cue to feel complex emotions, Fred in Angel, which technically isn’t a death but still the removal of a character. I’m sure there are more, but my brain is wired to the Buffy and Stargate ‘verses at the moment, strangely. The removal of these characters, without possibility of resurrection, leaves a lasting emotional impact which lingers on in the minds and emotions of the characters, making it real and painful for them, and ultimately making it real and painful for us, as the audience.
What it all boils down to, and this is my major problem, is that death is the thing, the Big Thing, which informs the way we act and react. It is what makes us fear and worry for characters on the screen and gives us that connection to them when they’re in peril. If death is taken away as being the ultimate emotional trauma (and, yes, there are other ways to put the characters and audience through the emotional wringer, but death tops the list), then how can we connect with them on all the other levels the writers expect us to?
Death absolutely must be a constant. Without it, the characters are just fighting to not have a shitty death+resurrection/return scene, which, in the grand scheme of things, sucks donkey balls with a hoover in a black hole.
*Does Buffy count as Sci-Fi? s4, maybe, but, whatever.