Firefly

You knew it was coming.

You knew because it's pretty much the sci-fi show of the hipster generation.

You knew because it was made by the ever-popular Joss Whedon, who has come to symbolize a kind of underdog artistic integrity in a wasteland of cookie cutter primetime TV.

You knew because...well...Firefly.

It's hard not to gush about this show, because there honestly has never been anything like it.  This was the first science fiction show that really felt like an honest portrayal of the average working-class group of people in space.


Star Trek covered the idealists, the astronauts, the best of humanity.  The trend it created could be felt in shows like Andromeda, or Seaquest, or Stargate.  Characters in these shows could be flawed, but they were always working towards very lofty, communal goals.  Some shows, like Lexx or Farscape, even had protagonists who were misfits or outright villains, but they were strange and had complex backstories filled with political intrigue.

In Firefly, these people only want to make a (dis)honest buck.  The characters, while detailed, have believable individual backgrounds.  There are a couple of exceptions - River and Simon, mainly - who are definitely outside the norm, but for the most part they're down to earth (or Earth-that was, in this case).  The captain of the firefly, Mal Reynolds, wasn't a high-ranking officer in the war of Independence.  He was just a sergeant.  Jayne, the thug, didn't even fight in the war at all.


It's that everyman quality that really put Firefly into the top tier of science fiction on the small screen.  For all the high-concept stories of the 80s and 90s, Firefly had an answer with strong, character driven pieces.

This realistic sensibility is extended into the design of everything on the show.  The costuming, the sets, and especially the vehicles all have a very lived-in, tangible feel to them.  Firefly (the ship, not the show) looks and moves like the Toyotta Turcel of space.  It's not the Porsche, the Enterprise.  It's an economy car, and one without a fancy hybrid engine at that.

Why this is so important in reaching out to an audience is that it makes the show wholly relateable.  The characters' problems are our problems.  We feel for their difficulties, and rejoice in their successes (limited though they be).

The stakes are kept high by the persistent knowledge that no money = starvation, and also by the ever-present, overbearing Alliance government seeking to imprison or even kill Simon and River Tam.

If, somehow, you don't know the plot and what I'm saying right now is total gibberish, I'll try to encapsulate it as best I can.  Firefly posits a near-future science fiction world where humanity has abandoned Earth's solar system in favor of a new system of many Earth-like planets and moons.

Shortly after the arrival into this solar system, humanity's interests diverted (as they often do), and on one side were the totalitarian Alliance and the rebellious Independents.  The Independents lost.  Badly.  Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion), a sergeant in the war on the side of Independence, takes his Corporal Zoe (Gina Torres) and buys himself a ship and hires a crew, determined to eke out a place in the 'verse for him and his own.  The crew is composed of pilot Wash (Alan Tudyk), engineer Kaylee (Jewel Staite), companion/prostitute Inara (Morena Baccarin), and Public Relations Officer Jayne (Adam Baldwin).  The crew picks up trouble in the form of siblings Simon (Sean Maher) and River (Summer Glau), and they are finally joined by the enigmatic Shepherd Book (Ron Glass).


Do I really need to go into the troubled tale of the distribution of this series?  Suffice it to say that episodes were shown out of order, some weren't aired at all, and ultimately it was cancelled by network executives who have undoubtedly triple-locked their personal data against rabid fanboys.

Now here's where I'll say my one controversial statement:  it might be better that way.

Firefly was terrific, and may have continued to be terrific.  I worry, however, that if it HAD achieved meteoric fame and praise much as it did after its untimely abortion, it would have continued onwards and downwards in quality and content.  For what it is, it is a show where even the weakest episode far outshines the majority of primetime television in sheer talent and scope of imagination.

It's a single, beautiful season of essentially perfect television, in or out of the sci-fi stream.  It's easy to see why.  Firefly was so clearly a labour of love for everyone involved in its production.  That love translates into a wholly believable universe, filled with rich detail.  Characters have their own speech patterns and behaviourisms.  There's slang, something that I haven't ever seen another science fiction series pull off believably (Battlestar Galactica came close, but by the end it felt forced).

The casting is great.  The stories are great.  The direction is fun and light-hearted, able to recognize that sci-fi will always have a degree of "camp" to it that's not only necessary but actually adds to the atmosphere.

And you know what?  The outpouring of affection for this show meant it got its "Cinderella Story."  After the series was cancelled, Whedon convinced a studio to buy the rights to make a movie to at least round off the major storyline.  Serenity gave a very satisfying conclusion to a very satisfying series.

At the end of the day, whether or not it lasted beyond its first season, I'm just glad it existed at all.  I don't think I've ever thanked a TV show simply for...well...BEING.  Firefly is the exception to that rule, and well-deserving of that noble spot.  In the words of Roger Ebert, "...it was made by and for people who can't get enough of this stuff. You know who you are."

You're gorram right we do.