They aim to misbehave.

Longtime readers have repeatedly heard me refer to Firefly, the beloved but ill-fated sci-fi show from Fox that aired in 2002. I came to the browncoat party late (Firefly had been off the air for two years before I saw the whole thing on DVD), but I’m just as passionate about it as the 4.3 million loyal fans who tuned in to watch it every week. Considering Dollhouse has been renewed for drawing just 2.1 million viewers, I still consider it one of TV’s great tragedies that this gem of a show was cancelled so soon after it began.

It’s hard to see what the big deal about Firefly is from the usual short description of it (“cowboys in space”) – so I’ve compiled this list of reasons why I think Firefly rocked, or as the crew would say, ‘shiny’.

1. The ‘Verse

The technology of Firefly’s setting, called the ‘Verse by its inhabitants, isn’t very clearly drawn. Firefly isn’t ‘hard’ sci-fi in the way Ringworld is hard sci-fi. It never explains how the mess of parts in Serenity’s engine manages to propel the rusty old transport ship through space, how it manages to maintain standard gravity within its hold. The show never explains the terraforming process that transformed dozens of worlds and hundreds of moons into other Earths.

What it does focus on is the strange but oddly familiar society of the ‘Verse. Prostitution is not only legal, but a highly respected (and guild-controlled) profession. The core planets look like Tokyo with flying cars, the outer moons resemble Amish settlements and Wild West frontier towns. And everyone from the most rarefied aristocrat to the crudest mercenary speaks Mandarin, often just long enough to fire off a few curse words like ‘baboon’s ass-crack’. And always on the edges of everyone’s mind is the possibility of a Reaver attack, the scariest space bogeymen since the Borg. And not a single alien to be seen in the whole damned ‘Verse.

All this serves to highlight the fact that the future looks just like the present, only weirder. And the crew of Serenity are all just trying to make their way through this strangeness on a rustbucket of a Firefly-class transport ship.

2. Characters

Firefly’s nine crew members are some of the most interesting characters in all of sci-fi. A wise-cracking pilot with a penchant for toy dinosaurs and his gun-toting warrior woman of a wife. A preacher with impressive fighting skills and high-level Alliance clearance. A Registered Companion (read: temple-sanctioned prostitute). A fugitive surgeon and his mind-reading sister. A genius mechanic with an eternally-sunny disposition and a healthy sex drive. A thug/public relations officer named Jayne who would betray them all if the pay was good enough. And all of them led by Captain Malcolm Reynolds, former independence fighter, now a petty thief and professional smuggler.

What’s not to love?

3. Ensemble Cast

You’ll notice that I distinguish between the characters and the cast, because each one of the cast members shines in their individual roles and in their chemistry with each other. For example, Nathan Fillon manages to portray both Mal’s war veteran pragmatism and his deep love for his own crew. Adam Baldwin plays the thug-for-hire Jayne as possessing a sharp animal cunning and a complete lack of schooling. And Jewel Staite plays Kaylee with a disarming innocence whether she’s talking about ship engines or getting laid.

It’s good to see that the Firefly cast continues to prosper long after the series ended, too, with Nathan Fillon in Castle, Summer Glau in Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles and Dollhouse, and Adam Baldwin in Chuck, just to name a few. It shows both their talent, and their fans’ devotion.

4. Dialogue

“Mercy is the mark of a great man.” *stab* “Guess I’m just a good one.” *stab* “Well, I’m all right.”

The dialogue is snappy, well-written, and delivered with a keen sense of timing and a smattering of Mandarin for flavor. A love for wordplay is essential to the full enjoyment of Firefly, rather than a desire for explosions, chase scenes, and gunfights, all of which are present in Firefly but don’t necessarily take center stage.

“Wash, tell me I’m pretty.”
“Were I unwed I would take you in a manly fashion.”
“’Coz I’m pretty?”
“’Coz you’re pretty.”

Many of the best lines come from Wash, the Hawaiian-shirted pilot, who always seems to find the right things to say.

“We gotta go to the crappy town where I’m a hero!”

5. Special Effects

Firefly pioneered the use of the documentary-style shaky cam for sci-fi. Before Firefly sci-fi would always have precise blocking, grand sweeping shots of impressive armadas that are always perfectly framed. Firefly would employ lens flares, zooms, and late focuses even in their computer-generated shots in order to highlight the realism of this already vividly real setting.

After Firefly was canceled, many of the show’s special effects crew moved on to Battlestar Galactica, which would continue to employ the same techniques first used in Firefly. BSG even gives a nod to Firefly in the first episode by having Serenity in one scene!

And also: Firefly reminds us all that there is no sound in space. Not even when stuff blows up in spectacular widescreen HD.

6. The Music

Aside from the famous theme song, much of the atmosphere of Firefly comes from its music, by Greg Edmonson, which like its milieu is a strange mix of Western and Oriental influences. Everything from sitars to fiddles to Indian chanting can be heard, and none of it seems out of place.

By far the most outstanding musical moment of the series, though is “The Hero of Canton,” the ballad that cemented Jayne’s status as a genuine folk hero.

One of the series’ great moments, in a series full of great moments.

7. Freedom vs. Security

The main theme of Firefly, if there is one, is the balance between the security and prosperity promised by the Alliance (in exchange for the surrender of certain freedoms) and the freedom-loving frontier spirit of the Independents. This theme is emphasized by the theme song, when it says, “You can’t take the sky from me.”

Just like other famous rogues like Han Solo and Jack Sparrow, what the ship Serenity means to Mal is freedom, the freedom to live life in the way that he chooses.

Mal: I tell you, Zoë, we get a mechanic, get her up and running again, hire a good pilot, maybe a cook – Live like real people. A small crew – They must feel the need to be free. Take jobs as they come. They never have to be under the heel of nobody ever again. No matter how long the arm of the Alliance might get… we’ll just get ourselves a little further.
Zoë: “Get her running again”?
Mal: Yeah.
Zoë: So not running now?
Mal: Not so much.

8. Ended Too Soon

I’m probably going to get flak for saying this, but a big reason why Firefly was so brilliant is because it ended so soon. It never got the chance to go through the same ups and downs all long-running series go through, and as Joss Whedon said, the threat of imminent cancellation forced him and the writers to cut anything out that didn’t matter. I think it was that drive to distill everything down to its bare essence that made Firefly great. Every episode was rich, and deep, and had a rawness that simply isn’t present in long-running shows, whose writers could afford to get complacent, pad out the series with filler.

Even Serenity, the movie that wrapped up the series, was tightly written, and kept the magic that made the TV series so special, even with a smaller budget than most sci-fi movies.

Pretty cunning, don'cha think?

Well, what are you all standin’ around here lookin’ all confuzzled for? Go on and watch Firefly right now. That’s what I’m gonna do.

Go on. Git.

The Hierarchy of Needs. Learn it. Live it.

As I write this, an article in a blog about my geeky interests, I am acutely aware of everything that supports this pursuit. I am aware that I am alive, and breathing.

I am aware of my last meal, and that I can get my next meal without difficulty.

I am aware of the roof above my head, the walls around me, and the lock on my front door, protecting my property.

I am aware that I have been spared the worst effects of the recent typhoon, and that my friends and family are also safe.

I am aware that I have a wife, a family, and friends that all love and support me in my endeavors.

I am aware of my small professional and educational achievements.

I am aware that, at least to a small but loyal tribe of people, my views are read and respected, something that fills me with much gratitude, and perhaps more than my share of self-esteem.

I am aware that my so-called creativity, my vision, my philosophical inclinations, are all resting on a happy conflux of all of these things, and that the loss of any of them would call my attention away from such things as anime, or video games, or RPGs to more urgent things, like food, or shelter, or companionship.

I am an extremely fortunate individual. And I am extremely grateful.

The more widely-read among you probably took one look at the diagram above and realized that I have been referring to Mazlow’s Hierarchy of Needs. Looking over it, it seems basic and obvious. But how many times have our leaders stressed nebulous, abstract things like GDP and economic growth without providing the basic needs like food, water, and medical attention to the people? How many times have we heard people quick to condemn the morality of their fellowmen without feeling the pangs of hunger or the desperation of acute poverty firsthand?

These needs are universal, and timeless. As Posca said to Brutus in the series Rome:

The Roman people are not crying out for clean elections. They are crying out for jobs. They are crying out for clean water, for food, for stability and peace.

Show me a leader who can provide all of these things, who will value them over greed, self-glorification, partisan politics, and mudslinging, and I will show you the person who I will vote for. Show me a people who will inconvenience themselves and forgo the luxuries they have grown accustomed to, and even risk their own personal safety and well-being, in order to ensure that each and every one of their fellow citizens have their basic needs met, and I will show you a people I would be proud to call myself a part of.

The people have risen to the challenge. I expect our so-called leaders to do the same. If not, they should cede (or surrender) their posts to people who will.

I am acutely aware of how privileged I am to be standing on my soapbox and speaking my mind, and to live in an age where my words can be read by anyone who cares to read them. But this post isn’t just about what I want to say anymore.

It’s about what needs to be said.

Or as Mal told Jayne in Firefly:

It’s my estimation that every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sommbitch or another. Ain’t about you. Jayne. It’s about what they need.

(If you haven’t already done so, please help by donating or helping out at any of the relief centers on this list.)

EDIT: The EU has donated 2 million Euros to the Philippines to help the Ondoy relief effort. Thank you to all our friends from the EU!

Most people who aren’t pirate fans themselves tend to be confused at the enthusiasm and gusto with which pirate otaku throw themselves into the part. (For the sake of clarity, I am referring to the “Yo ho hoist the colors” type of pirate, not the “Burn fake DVDs with torrents off the Internet and sell in bazaars” kind.)

For starters, pirates tend to have bad teeth and bad breath. Jack Sparrow could knock out a man by breathing on him. It’s true!

Pirates also tend to be extremely unreliable as allies. “Keep to the Code” from the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy simply meant “Every man for himself,” which is why the crew left Jack Sparrow behind, after he fell behind — and as everyone who’s seen the movie knows, he fell behind because Will Turner, pirate-in-the-making, double-crossed him by knocking him out with an oar. Mostly because Jack was going to double-cross him by turning him over to Barbossa. Ah, pirates.

A man walks down the street in that hat, people know he's not afraid of anything.

Another treacherous pirate, this one from a spaceship, is Jayne Cobb from Firefly, which is essentially the space cowboy pirate show. (This also explains why I love it so much.) When Malcolm Reynolds, captain of the Firefly-class transport (and space pirate ship) Serenity first asked him why he didn’t turn them all over to the Feds to claim the reward, Jayne replied, “The pay wasn’t good enough.” When Mal asked, “What happens when it is?” Jayne simply replied, “Well… that’ll be an interesting day.” And it sure was.

Then there’s the matter of being wanted by the authorities. Sometimes for questioning, other times to be hung, keelhauled, drawn and quartered, shot, thrown to the sharks, or whatever punishment imposed by the law for disrupting the lawful commerce of goods, such as sugar, cotton, tobacco, and slaves. And we can’t have the slave trade disrupted now, can we? Wouldn’t be civilized!

Then, of course, there’s the perils of the sea (or of space) itself. The hull could be breached and everyone could drown (or suffocate, whichever is applicable). The ship could be becalmed (or run out of gas). Nasty sea monsters (or space monsters) look at your ship and decide it’s snacktime. And there are always other pirates out there greedily rubbing their mitts at your ship and your booty.

So why do it at all? Freedom.

There is a scene in the first Pirates movie where Captain Jack Sparrow and Miss Swann are stranded on a desert island, drunk on rum. After a round of pirate drinking songs (“And really bad eggs…”) they collapse on the sand, and the Captain explains to Miss Swann what a ship is.

"And really bad eggs..."

“Wherever we want to go, we’ll go. That’s what a ship is, you know. It’s not just a keel and a hull and a deck, and sails, that’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is, what the Black Pearl really is…is freedom.”

Perhaps being inebriated in the movie theater had something to do with it, but what Captain Jack Sparrow said at that moment really resonated with me. It was probably the booze since I was taking advice from a fictional pirate, come to think of it.

But this isn’t just some vague idea of “the pirate’s life.” Historically, pirate ships were run as democracies, more free and egalitarian than many of the land-based societies of the time, most of which afforded no upward mobility beyond the station or class which you were born into. Pirate captains were elected by majority vote, and were overthrown and marooned by majority vote, too. And everyone got a share of the booty.

Sure, a pirate’s life was hard, often “poor, nasty, brutish and short,” as the philosopher Hobbes stated about life in the state of nature. (As opposed to the tiger Hobbes, who said “I don’t know which is worse: that everyone has his price, or that the price is so low.“)

Well, guilty. But at least they were free lives.

Big Damn Heroes.

So what does space pirate Malcolm Reynolds have to say about the subject of freedom? Let’s give the captain the last word:

“I tell you, Zoe, we get a mechanic, get her up and running again, hire a good pilot, maybe a cook…live like real people. A small crew – them’s as feel a need to be free. Take jobs as they come. Ain’t never have to be under the heel of nobody never again. No matter how long the arm of the Alliance might get, we’ll just get ourselves a little further.”

“…Get her running again?”

“Yeah.”

“So, not running now?”

“Not so much.”

My favorite sci-fi series of all time is Joss Whedon’s masterpiece, Firefly. Why that is will be a subject of a future post, but for now, I leave you with the gag reel from the show. Apparently Nathan Fillion is quite the joker.