I discovered one of my favorite TV shows, Farscape, by accident. And frell me dead, I’m so happy I found it. If TV science fiction was either contemplative neoclassical prog rock (Looking at you, Star Trek: TNG) or southern-fried Americana (Stargate SG:1), Farscape was Space Ritual era Hawkwind, complete with Lemmy stoned out of his mind and Stacia Blake dancing to “Sonic Attack” wearing silk and body paint. And gods, I loved it so.
I came in at possibly the worst place – an episode near the end of the first season called “Nerve.” What struck me was our hero, John Crichton, in the aurora chair while Scorpius purred over him. Ben Browder refused to play stoic, unbreakable hero. His eyes were bloodshot. He spat half the time he spoke. When they let him loose, he twitched and shook with genuine pain. I’d never seen anything like that on an SF show. Real emotion, real fear. And all this while surrounded by puppets.
There are a lot of articles on what made Farscape tick. The cast. The writing. The visuals. But for me, it was the willingness to be weird and experimental. You had a ‘hero’ who was the weakest among the crew in terms of strength or power, but he became the emotional heart of the show. People had sex, got into messy relationships, and remained friends. We lost people we loved and were devastated by it. And even when the show came back to Earth, it held a funhouse mirror to who we are.
Oh, and then there are the “Scratch ‘N Sniff.”
Honestly, watch this episode. It’s a light episode, a comedic one, but I one no other show on television would even conceive of pulling off.
Did Farscape succeed in every episode? No. Gods, no. There are some real clunkers, and the creative team made some really bad decisions along with some really good ones. But it was never timid. If there’s one lesson I can take from this show, and one I wish I could internalize, is to never be afraid to try and put everything out there: life, sex, love, emotion. Dare to dream.
Look at the wonders out there. Because this world, this unbound galaxy of the imagination, is your playground.
Biomechanoid Blues 