"We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty" Joss Whedon's "Firefly" and "Serenity" as a Metaphor for the Last Eight Years of the Bush Nightmare
A critical server at the company I work for is down for maintenance this day after the US Presidential election, and thus I don't have to work. So I thought I'd relax a little by rewatching my favorite science fiction series of all time, "Firefly," and its feature- length sequel, "Serenity." And less than two minutes into the first episode, I heard the words in the Subject line, and burst into very uncharacteristic tears. They are spoken by Malcolm 'Mal' Reynolds to what remains of his troop of rebel soldiers as they hold out against seemingly impossible odds in the battle of Serenity Valley. A few minutes later, these words -- and Mal's life -- are shattered and rendered tragic as he receives word that his side in this war has surrendered and betrayed them. They are to "lay down arms," and concede. The look on Mal's face as he realizes the extent of the betrayal and cowardice that has shattered his dreams is heartbreaking. I know that look. I saw it in the mirror, eight years ago, as I woke up on another day after the US Presi- dential election and found that my country, too, had betrayed me. And I reacted as Mal did. He became an outlaw, renounced his home, and found a new one in a beat-to-shit but lovable spaceship named Serenity, in which he and a band of equally-devastated comrades cruised the edges of the 'verse and did their best to keep on keepin' on in a universe made inhospitable by the evil Alliance that had taken over. I left the United States and became an outlaw of another kind, living sometimes legally, sometimes illegally as an ex-pat in Europe. And, like Mal, I did my best to keep on keepin' on, also in a 'verse made inhospitable by the evil forces that had taken over my homeland. I found my own versions of the good ship Serenity. The first was an apartment in the 7th arrondissement in Paris, from which I could look out and see the Eiffel Tower and marvel at its beauty while trying my best to not get bummed by the news coming from my country of birth, and what it was doing to rape and pillage the planet, and its own people. After a few years I found a new version of Serenity in a medieval village in the south of France, and kept on keepin' on there. A little over a year ago, I found a new version of Serenity here, a block from the beach in a Spanish tourist town. Like Mal, I had my trusty sidekick, who has traveled with me, and I have found other friends and fellow outlaws along the Way. All three space ships have been very comfy, thank you, and have provided me with a fine base of operations from which to keep on keepin' on. Like Mal and his crew, I took work where I could find it, and have managed to prove the truth of the old saying "Living well is the best revenge." I have been back to America only twice in the last eight years, and felt as out of place when I was there as Captain Tightpants would have felt on the Alliance's home planet. And like the crew of Whedon's Serenity, I have faced challenges and dangers, and have tried to deal with them using the most effective weapons at my disposal, flexibility and a sense of humor. Both have served me well. But, like Mal and his crew, I had almost lost hope in my homeland, and in its ability to throw off the shackles it had fastened to its own ankles by allowing the Presidency to be stolen by tyrants, twice. I had resigned myself, in fact, to never going back again, even for a visit, and spending the rest of my life flitting from place to place in my version of Serenity. This morning changes all that, just as the end of the film "Serenity" changed Mal's universe and the possi- bilities open to him and his crew. At the end of that film, the Alliance's tyranny has been exposed, and the evil Alliance is in the process of imploding. Mal can finally let his bitterness drop and wax eloquent to young, psychic River Tam about the thing that has kept Serenity flying all these years, and will in the future, even though there will still be shitstorms to fly through before the hard times are over. Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: But it ain't all buttons and charts, little albatross. You know what the first rule of flyin' is? Well I suppose you do, since you already know what I'm about to say. River Tam: I do. But I like to hear you say it. Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: Love. You can know all the math in the 'verse, but take a boat in the air you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells ya she's hurtin' 'fore she keens. Makes her home. River Tam: Storm's getting worse. Capt. Malcolm Reynolds: We'll pass through it soon enough. Amen. This morning I feel the same way. I carry my real home with me, wherever my ex-pat, outlaw life may take me. And love is the thing that makes it home. But now I have the option of being able to consider my original homeland a port of call along the Way, without feeling that I am collaborating with the enemy by doing so. Joss Whedon didn't end "Serenity" with Mal's speech above, although he could have. He chose to end it with a joke, the same one that opened the film. We don't know what will happen to Mal and his crew after his final line, because the series ended far too soon. Similarly, I don't know what will happen to me as I continue my travels. But suspect it'll work out, because after all these years as an outlaw, I have retained the ability to laugh -- in the darkest moments, and as dawn seems to be breaking again. What I learned from the last eight years is the same thing I learned from "Firefly" and "Serenity." No matter how dark things seem, if you retain your ability to laugh you can still react to whatever comes your way by saying, "Shiny."
