Vale Continuum

Beneath the shiny veneer of social media, we live in interesting times. From shocking statistics on the uneven distribution of global wealth, and struggles to preserve civil liberties—as well as the environment—the battle to build a better future is sometimes bold, sometimes insidious, with technology both helping and hindering. It was from this cultural atmosphere that Continuum first emerged, and proved to be one of the great science fiction television efforts of recent years, if not decades.

On the surface, Continuum offers procedural elements, violent encounters, conspiracies, betrayal, and romance; everything a primetime show is expected to offer. Below the surface, the series is a gem of science fiction and brave storytelling that tackles incredibly complex themes with finesse.

Access to future tech both empowered and disempowered
Kiera throughout the series. A fickle friend at best.

Science fiction as a predictive tool exploring possible outcomes of social, technological, and political trends in today's world is one of the genre's greatest strengths, and most popular incarnations. Classic fiction, like 1984 and Brave New World, take us into potential futures extrapolated from the author's everyday environment.

The show offered many multifaceted female characters.

As fans know, the basic premise of Continuum follows Protector Kiera Cameron and the terrorist cell Liber8, who are thrown back in time from 2077 to 2012. Kiera wants to go home, but to do that successfully she has to stop Liber8 from changing history, thereby obliterating the future she loves. Continuum could just as easily be called Consequence; on a societal level and a personal one, consequences are key, and the time travel trope is used to great effect when exploring this theme.

Kagame in the pilot and Kagame in the finale were representative of their times.

Continuum followed the tradition of what great science fiction is supposed to do—question today's world by extrapolating possible futures. When the series began, some felt the material was anti-corporation and presented the terrorist cell sympathetically. 

The final season dissuaded this notion; the future in which Liberate succeeded in destroying the corporations is revealed to be a dystopian disaster, worse than the democracy-light Big Brother option Kiera and Liber8 hailed from. By the end of the series neither original ideology reigns, because Continuum is not a fairytale looking to gratify the audience with a neat ending.

Seriously, anyone who didn't apply for a transfer from this station after the pilot was insane.
Jokes aside, the role of the police and the potential for privatisation was a recurring concern.

That was the core of the show's power—shades of gray. The goal was to make the audience think. From the first episode our "hero" was flawed, displaying casual brutality as a future enforcer, and scoffing at an intellectual who criticized the loss of democracy. We empathized with her as a mother, but had problems with her ideological stance. Alternately, while we empathized with Liber8's ideological stance (thanks to flashbacks of suffering and persecution), their violent practices could not be condoned or countenanced. Keira was a questionable hero, but Liber8 were questionable villains.

Carlos and Julian developed an interesting relationship.

In the world of Continuum every character believes they are on the right path, yet at some point  the viewer is bound to disagree with their actions. We see their perspectives and histories, understand their motivations, but we don't always agree with their choices. 

Within the framework of the narrative, pressure is often applied. Some character's break, some are slow to change their perspectives. A few put themselves first, others put humanity first. Some will kill many to save one; others will not kill one to save the many. Endless complex ethical and moral scenarios are explored. The audience is encouraged to ponder paths taken and subsequent repercussions; in the end the story does not endorse or subscribe to any particular future, aside from one of moderation.

Seeing these three on the same team was riveting and marked
 a turning point in the series, in terms of narrative possibilities.

In this fictional universe all are flawed, and at some point make (at least one) questionable decision. The characters of Continuum are complex, can disappoint, and are occasionally brave—just like people in real life. Consideration of predestination and fate are added to the theoretical mix because time travel as a storytelling device is fully explored across four seasons, rather than being an introductory tool soon discarded.

Side note: I loved the dichotomy of the stepbrothers Alec and Julian, and their possible futures as ideological enemies. Over time (pardon the pun) their journey helps the audience truly understand that the future is constantly in flux.

Sam is the ghost in the machine of Kiera's mind.

I've blogged before about the theme of motherhood in Continuum. Kiera's yearning for her child in 2077 creates incredible tension in the story, especially when it becomes clear the character can either help work toward a better future for the world, thereby putting her son's existence in danger, or try to maintain the future as she knows it so she can return to her loved ones. The memory of Sam (a contradiction in itself) haunts the storyline. He is the ghost of a possible future our lead character cannot shake.

Sonya and Kellog. Two of the show's most interesting personalities.

My favorite characters, in no particular order, are Kellog, Sonya, Julian, and Emily. I also loved how certain storytelling choices I considered weak on first viewing became fascinating in retrospect. For example, when Alec travelled back in time, thereby resetting the plot, it seemed a waste of bold character development (especially for Carlos), but then I realized the reset illustrated how pointless individual choices can feel when time becomes a malleable concept, far more clearly than a linear narrative ever could.

Absolutely fabulous family dynamic.
Television's most compelling stepbrothers.

Another standout element: having the two versions of Alec diverge wildly till he literally battled to the death with himself (talk about meta). Continuum regularly used love and grief as motivators that could prove advantageous or detrimental to a character's arc. One Alec experienced a level of grief, love, and sacrifice the other had not, bringing about an emotional depth the other Alec could not comprehend.

Experiences change people, that's a core storytelling truth, but Continuum took it further by asking how deeply knowledge of experiences not yet experienced could change a character's perspective. What happens when the future you haven't lived yet is someone else's fixed history, one they bring with them, via memory, to the present day? Continuum explores a glitch in the system of the universe that we, as creatures who live in the moment, have to work to comprehend.

Possibly my favourite scene in the entire series, when the members
of Liber8 learn the future they "saved" would prove worse than the nightmare they came from.

The finale did not disappoint. The ending was, in a word, brilliant. When Kiera started talking about returning to her son in the final season, I was worried years of great science fiction television would be thrown away with a patched on happily ever after. I should have had faith in the quality of the writing; Kiera both did, and did not, achieve her goal. (And what could be a more fitting final moment then a paradox?)

Seeing Jason lucid in the flashbacks to the future  (contradiction
 in terms, I know) highlighted the tragedy of his present day mental state.

The team behind Continuum fused a fairytale ending with a sombre, realistic tragedy. For our hero, wanting to see her son again was her strength and her flaw, and the conclusion echoed this unsettling dynamic magnificently. From the outset Kiera was the wildcard, and as such had the power to completely rearrange the timeline. The only downside to creating a dazzling future for her son? There turned out to be no place for her in it.

"This is the price for making the world a better place. This Sam will grow up in a world free of violence, free of revolution, free of corruption. His future is bright. And it's because of you Kiera. It's the price of love. Real love. You'll understand, in time."

Scifi TV Moms aka The Future of Motherhood

Flashback to the 1984 tv series V. Possibly the greatest
subliminal commercial for safe sex & teen abstinence.

In recent times, motherhood has been a dominant theme in various science fiction outings.

The representations vary from interesting to problematic—depending on your interpretation. That's what's great about television; it's a completely personal experience. You end up following a television show, returning episode after episode, because aspects of the narrative, or the characters, appeal. How, or why, varies greatly; sometimes a viewer can't explain the connection. That's the beauty of entertainment—the complex, incredible puzzle of what will appeal to the psyche.

Many people have spoken, and written, on the representation of motherhood across myriad forms of storytelling, so I'm barely dipping the tip of the nail of my tiniest toe into a giant pool, if not an ocean of thoughtful text on the subject. This blog focuses on recent science fiction television's fascination with motherhood, and my reaction to the angles taken, making this an opinion piece more than anything else.

But that's what I love about small screen fare. Everyone is free to reach their own conclusions (basically a mix of opinion and reaction), and can, in a sense, vote with their viewing for the continuation of programs that intrigue, relax, inspire, and/or entertain them. 

Here are my thoughts on the concept of motherhood in the following (relatively fresh) science fiction outings, and the role it played (pardon the pun) in the narrative:

CONTINUUM

Kira aptly holding the key to the
past, present, and future in her hands.

For me, the presence of motherhood in the narrative worked wonderfully in this series. Since this is a beautifully written, thematically complex offering that's probably not surprising. Unlike many other scifi shows that have a grand concept they never explore properly, or characters that lack a certain psychological subtlety, Continuum delivers on all fronts.

Kiera's motherhood is used to tether the character to her original timeline, and to show the audience softer elements of her personality (in contrast to her rigid future cop default workplace persona). 

When it came to establishing an emotional tether, her husband wasn't an option because of their flawed relationship. If she'd ignored all the signs the future she came from was corrupt and questionable just to return to a romantic interest, the audience would have been disappointed, given her character growth during the series. (Also, making him unfaithful freed her up romantically in the present day.)

Her son is a different story. To let go of the timeline she came from would most likely erase his existence, a shockingly difficult act to ask of a mother. As Keira becomes more and more aware that clinging to her old timeline may not be the best choice for society, she continues to do so in great part because her son's existence depends on it. This situation fuels the character's inner conflict, a struggle that feels believable to the audience. 

ORPHAN BLACK

Sarah and Helena.
(Helena is actually my favorite character.)

I haven't seen all episodes currently available, because while I very much enjoy this series and find it entertaining, I don't consider it great scifi. For me the clone characters are too close to caricatures, and often elements of the storyline feel oversimplified. I think the zany humor glosses over the gaps, but unlike most of my friends who would give it a rave 4.75 out of 5, I'd be more inclined to lean toward 3.5.

Once again, motherhood fuels the story from the get-go. The character of Sarah is motivated by the desire to reclaim custody of her daughter Kira. (Personally, I feel the kid was better off with Mrs. S.) Sarah is a flawed hero, and while I like her, frankly she's a bit annoying onscreen. Her love for her daughter is repeatedly touted, referenced by herself and other characters, to the point where it seems in danger of becoming her only defining element.

She's constantly vowing to get her daughter back, threatening anyone who could potentially be a threat to Kira, impulsively dashing here and there when she feels the child may be in danger. For me, she's way too erratic a character, and borders on the traditionally histrionic representation of the mother.

Interestingly enough, Kira seems to exhibit precog skills now and again and occasionally appears more like the parent in the relationship. In this case it's the child character making the motherhood narrative more rounded. Likewise, linking the fertility aspect of the storyline to the health of the clones is a clever twist that makes the motherhood arc even more relevant to the series; a reveal that highlighted some nice writing. 

EXTANT

Space: not as lonely as it's cracked up to be.

From the get-go, Extant struggled under the weight of exceedingly complex themes. I'm guessing the goal was to provide a bridging character for the audience, hence the lead's desire for motherhood, but given the resulting low ratings I think it's clear something was lost in delivery.

For me, Halle Berry's character Molly spends most of the first season a victim. In my mind this is different to a lead that has been victimized; their narrative journey is generally one of self empowerment, in that they find a way to fight back or move forward, even if it's more metaphoric, or emotional. A subtle difference, sure, but a distinction the audience often picks up on. While searching for answers, Molly seems permanently on the edge of hysteria, and despite being so brilliant she made it to space, doesn't appear capable of unraveling what happened to her in a way that empowers the character.

I think the idea was to make her less superhero, more relatable, but she presents too simplistically. I guess I expected more from the lead. Just when you think she's uncovered a new clue she could potentially utilize to gain control of the narrative, the situation repeatedly slips through her fingers. Rather than drawing me in, her lackluster and often shortsighted efforts to unearth the truth both aggravate and alienate.

Making her son at home (basically) a robot and impregnating her with an alien child were story choices that muddied the waters more than anything else. Obviously the goal was to extrapolate on and explore current and potential societal issues (in this case, the "otherness" of alien and AI life, and humanities potential emotional connections) which is one of science fiction's traditional roles, but the plot struggles to do so in an engaging way. Thematically, motherhood fails to tie in seamlessly, as does grief: usually the long-term impact of grief stokes the fires of empathy, but even the reappearance of the dead didn't completely engage me.

I'm yet to catch the next season, but am planning to tune in. Extant is one of those shows where you sense what they're striving for, and I want to see if they manage to hit their stride in the second season.

FALLING SKIES

Is it just me mom, or does my
transformation feel vaguely familiar?

My viewing relationship with Falling Skies has always been problematic. Partly because it maintains the American TV trend for long, flowing, well-conditioned hair on female characters, despite an apocalyptic setting. (Or the fact they're working in the medical section of the camp and really should tie those strands back properly.) 

Aside from that, and a slew of logistical issues (don't get me started), I was interested to see how they would approach Dr. Anne's pregnancy and mothering of Lexi. I was seriously disappointed by the storyline that saw Anne, separated from Tom, search for her daughter while leading a group of people—and essentially lose it.

Basically Anne acts like a crazy person and puts everyone in jeopardy—not to mention is responsible for the slaughter of an innocent truck driver who was trying to save a group of children. Eventually she pushes herself so hard she collapses with a fever. 

Unlike Tom Mason, a character consistently empowered by his role as a father, becoming a mother transforms Dr. Anne Glass into a manic, obsessive, and questionable leader. When Tom's sons are threatened throughout the series, more often than not the character becomes wise and focused, the emotional bond giving him strength and propelling him into action. In stark contrast, a similar scenario sees Anne overwrought and irrational, her judgment skewed by that gosh darn maternal drive.

As for the actual mothering element, the show overcomes the hassle of introducing a baby on set by adding alien genetic tampering for accelerated growth. (Yes, like the eighties television series V, where Robin's baby Elizabeth quickly reached her teenage years, complete with a similar transformative cocoon.) 

Lexi dies in a moment of self-sacrifice, but prior to this most of her time on the series is spent alienated from Anne, wasting a potentially interesting dynamic. The Lexi plotline shifted to focus on her father/daughter relationship with Tom, because the golden rule in Falling Skies is IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT TOM.

HUMANS

Anita and Laura attempt to reach an uneasy compromise.

At this point (only a few episodes in) Humans feels like a good show but not a scifi classic. I guess my qualms are the broad generalizations. Humans are portrayed as somewhat limited, cruel, and awful. The Synths (robots/androids) are either automatons or innocent victims due to sentience. A few exceptions, but overall, the status quo holds.

Artificial intelligence is prime fodder for scifi exploration, but this feels jaded. And it plays into the idea if you give people permission to indulge in cruelty, they will. The series is fundamentally too pessimistic for my tastes; I believe people would be more likely to become emotionally attached to Synths.

In regards to the blog theme of motherhood in scifi, the series offers the human character Sarah. When her husband purchases a Synth called Anita, the script extrapolates beyond the uncomfortableness a working woman may experience when a nanny or housekeeper begins to fulfill aspects of the mother's traditional role in the home.

Unfortunately after the first two episodes I found Laura so unlikeable I would have been okay with the Synth accidentally knocking her off and burying her in the garden. When Laura asks, "Do you think we love our children because we choose to, or because we have to? Are we hardwired to love them because that's what nature needs to keep it all going?" it doesn't make the character any more likeable.

Anita exhibits traits traditionally considered positive and often associated with motherhood. Laura's protectiveness is expressed in a more aggressive, resentful, even hateful way, seemingly inspired by fear, a representation that doesn't say much for modern mothers. In case you missed the dichotomy at work, the point is then expressed in dialogue that infers one character's actions are a result of logic, the other of love—no matter how erratically said emotion is expressed. 

For me, it's too heavy handed an allocation; I prefer a more subtle script, and frankly, a less bleak take on humanity. Perhaps I'll check out the Swedish version, which I've been told has a slightly more upbeat feel.*

*Side note: A number of the cast (William Hurt, Gemma Chan, and Colin Morgan) are so standout, they make up for the less impressive scenes.

SENSE8 

A chaotic, emotive hit and miss series.

Because the program was sold to me primarily as a science fiction series I wasn't impressed with the pilot episode. In reality this is a drama, and better viewed as such. The core science fiction element provides a narrative tool to intertwine the characters (literally). The rest of the scifi aspects are perfunctory at best: evil corporation and all.

After giving up on the series, I ended up watching the rest of the episodes while sick with a virus, and discovered at heart it's about connections—physical and/or emotional—and self-discovery. The inclusion of what amounts to a psychic link (more or less) primarily serves to up the intensity.

The unfolding story of the character Riley, culminating in the season finale, was brilliant. The loss of a baby, whether stillborn or shortly after birth, is obviously horrific. The impact is far-reaching, and I felt the character's subsequent evolution (explained backward from the present day, piece by piece) was fascinating. At first I felt no real connection to the character, but by the time she's presented to the audience in a flashback as an almost unrecognizable innocent brunette, I felt a strong empathic link.

While many elements of Sense8 are weak, and occasionally overindulgent, evoking an emotional response in the audience is one of the showa greatest strengths. I loved the broad spectrum of women presented in the series, and I think Riley's tragic experience of motherhood is one of the strongest representations of the maternal experience I've seen onscreen in a while.

When Riley was forced to confront the location where she lost the baby, and decides to give up on life, her deep-rooted despair leaked from the screen. I've used the image with Will here not because he saved her, but because he helped her reach an emotional place where she found the strength to save them both.

Why Scifi Isn't The Drawcard It Used To Be

This year I watched the new series Defiance. Having heard about the millions forked out, not to mention the game crossover, my expectations were high. I really wanted a new scifi show to love. Most of all, I wanted to ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me all the money in the world wasn't going to save the genre right now...

Turns out, my intuition, market understanding, call it what you will, was right. The series was a mess. 

Which got me thinking. Why wasn't I surprised? Since when did my expectations, in regards to my favourite genre, become so low?

When I was young (yes, I know, I sound about ninety), science fiction shows had the ability to command mainstream primetime audiences. Major networks didn't view investing in science fiction as a game of Russian Roulette with more than one bullet (the current attitude). Back then, everyday masses watched science fiction programs of an evening without any hesitation.

I remember, as a little kid, memorising the blurb in the TV Guide for the next episode of V well before the week's wait was over. Everyone loved those scary, rat-eating lizard people, not to mention the brave resistance, as well as the moralistic aliens who crossed sides, like Charles and Willy.

And who didn't love Captain Picard? Star Trek: The Next Generation pushed boundaries. Those writers really tried. One episode that stuck in my brain saw Dr. Crusher fall in love with an alien guy who suffers an accident and is transplanted into a woman's body. The story portrayed Dr. Crusher as an individual incapable of overcoming her prejudices to be with the person she loved. Pretty edgy material for the times.

Remember Alien Nation? The ultimate illegal immigrant metaphor? I loved those freckle-headed types and their attempts to become American suburbanites. (Not to mention some of the best "alien" soundtracks to ever come out of a television spin-off.)

Even scifi shows that weren't commercial successes, like the underestimated Space: Above and Beyond, were still brilliant family viewing. They had a lot to say about a number of moral and psychological issues, and the writing was topnotch. But obviously, the commercial allure of the genre was starting to show some fractures...

Following the trail of attempts at a scifi hit, you start to see a pattern, kind of in a crash-and-burn shape over the years. You had Crusade, which hardly anyone remembers. Farscape seems like a point where scifi transitioned fully from crowd-pulling prime time shows into niche television with a loyal following.

By the time it got to Voyager, even the new Star Treks were starting to go down the gurgler. The quirky science premise of Now and Again finished off the era with lacklustre numbers that were beginning to seem a worrying norm for science fiction.

Crossing over into the new millennium, people's expectations had plummeted to the point where even a quality effort like Firefly couldn't garner enough initial audience interest to keep it on the air of a major network. The genre had become synonymous with dubious quality television, and the masses were no longer willing to risk it (more's the pity in this case).

Even the money and big names behind Dark Angel couldn't seduce the crowds. Fervent trekkies barely made it through an episode of Star Trek Enterprise, while the interesting Jeremiah struggled to hold viewers. 

For the next decade or so, there were valiant attempts to bring the genre back to life as a primetime big hitter. FlashForward tried to reassert scifi as a mainstream power, and failed dismally. Battlestar Galactica garnered major critical acclaim but couldn't translate that into a primetime hit. The 4400 soon vanished like it's characters, Surface sunk, and Threshold barely found viewers, let alone alien life forms (I know, too much punning in one sentence).

I feel that around this period, you start to see a notable drop in the quality of the output. Someone got the terrible idea to try remakes, like V (again), a narrative mess that died horribly in the ratings. And then the scale just kept sliding... 

Stargate Universe was one of the worse shows I've ever seen- set in space or otherwise. Don't even get me started on the mess that is Revolution, and Terra Nova was a shocker. Also, Dark Skies (I only watched a few episodes of the first season and complained about them in a blog that may have been longer than the original pilot script).

Which brings me back full circle to the terrible Defiance (there, I said it).

I personally think aside from "dumbing down" scifi to make it supposedly more palatable, over-sexualising the genre is another major part of the problem. Networks are often so busy trying to throw pleasing ingredients into the mix that they ruin the recipes. And audiences... well, after the first few bouts of food poisoning, they're not coming back to the restaurant any time soon. 

Dollhouse was a prime example of upper level meddling. Science fiction had such a bad rep by the time Dollhouse was picked up that the network couldn't bring themselves to let the show sit and simmer to perfection. 

(In my opinion, they should have given the writers free rein to really WRITE, because this premise had so much potential. Some of the later episodes are baked to perfection, most notably the unaired material.)



The sad part is, nobody expects scifi to rate amazingly anymore. If a network's going to risk cash, they'll generally go procedural over science fiction. The edgiest big money show is maybe a paranormal procedural, but that's as close to the line as most will tiptoe. (Shows that are marketed as "paranormal" these days are more likely to lock down an audience, like Under The Dome.)

What happened to the genre? When did code for cutting edge become code for soapies-in-the-future instead, and ones that aren't even written that well? Did some bright spark think making the futuristic elements a form of scenery, rather than the core of the narrative, will "trick" people into watching? That audiences will get so caught up in the sexual tension/potential romance they'll "forget" it's science fiction?

Perhaps science fiction has become lost, as a television genre, because the setting seems like enough to qualify, when in fact, it should be the material, the concepts addressed, that make it "futuristic"? 

Here's hoping the next decade sees intelligent material that also entertains become the norm again, and that it will be "normal" for mainstream audiences to switch on an hour of science fiction television at night.

My favourite recent science fiction release of recent times is Continuum, because the quality of the narrative harks back to ye days of Olde. It doesn't underestimate the audience, dragging complex ideas into the narrative with gusto. 



Unfortunately, the general public's expectations of science fiction are currently so dismal, the chances of a low budget science fiction program like this becoming an international primetime hit are slim. But Continuum brings back that feeling you get when you watch something fresh, strong, and mentally challenging, not to mention entertaining. 

Fingers crossed that major networks take at least one lesson from the show... that great science fiction requires great narrative, and addresses issues consuming the psyche of the times (metaphorically or otherwise). 

Note: Of course there's exceptions to every rule, like Dr Who, who often bucks trends, regenerating many times in the ratings (see what I did there?). Happy fiftieth to the wily Timelord xx

"A Stitch In Time Saves The World"

Canadian series Continuum is currently saving face for the scifi television genre. 


I think the trailer gives you the general gist... a group of terrorists escaping execution use a device to travel back in time, and a female enforcement officer is caught in the shockwave. I think the plan was to jump back six years, but they accidentally end up travelling sixty. (Apparently, like me, maths isn't their forte).

So many friends recommended Continuum to me. As a result, I felt compelled to avoid it. Truth is, nothing's worse than loathing a program everyone's raving about. (Here's looking at you, Mad Men!). 

Finally, I gave in and resigned myself to another dose of entertainment alienation. (Seriously, this should be a real thing. Nothing creates conversational chasms like polar opposite opinions on a tv show).

Generally, I love science fiction, but genre classification doesn't always guarantee quality. (Who can forget the travesty that was Stargate Universe? I wish I could). The good news is, Continuum's now on my Top 5 of 2012 list. 

The show is entertaining for myriad reasons, but I'm going to try and encapsulate why it's worth watching in just half a dozen points! Very concise of me...

1. They Downplay The (Present Day) Procedural Slant.
Finding investers for tv scifi can be a bit tricky. Getting investors for a cop show is like shooting fish in a barrel. Hence, Continuum uses a procedural structure in the present day scenes. This also pulls in higher audience numbers because those who are wary of the futuristic aspects can still relate to the familiar 'cop show' elements.

The good news is, the cop angle is just a narrative prop, not the central focus. It allows the protagonist to move freely in the present day. Her partner and boss also humanise present day society in the protagonist's mind, anchoring her, in a sense... but without interfering with the core chase element between our hero and the terrorist group.

Thematically, the show is off the wall. Like the best scifi, there's so much social commentary going on. I would need pages to go into it... a taste? Think the growth of corporate monopolies and their spread beyond the private sector, how bureaucracy in government could be its downfall, morality versus ideological fanaticism, parental love, trust, the many facets of intense relationships between the sexes, the repercussions of free will, the ethical responsibilities attached to technological advancements... the list goes on! Good times for the writing team and a lot more interesting than a generic cop show.



2. The Black and White Themes Are Apparently Colour Blind
The program starts with the audience following Keira, our lead, a 'goodie' because her Protector job is the future version of a police detective. She was on the team that brought in the leader of the terrorist group Liber8. He engineered the assassination of twenty prominent world leaders. Unfortunately, the collateral damage included hundreds of thousands of innocent people.

As the story unfolds, we begin to realise the future is a little colder than we imagined. It doesn't seem dystopian at first... Keira's friends looks relatively happy. Life isn't that dissimilar to current first world society (albeit with more tech developments).

Then we start noticing the cracks. The loss of civil liberties, for one. The 1984 style surveillance. The indentured citizens, who sell decades of their lives to a corporation. The casual acceptance of human rights abuses. All part of the controlling society our 'hero' helps maintain.

So... I guess we're on the side of the terrorists, then?

No. They remain the primary "baddies" due to a disregard for the suffering they cause. People are disposable pawns, not valued individuals. There's a casual cruelty to their ethos, because their focus is so blinkered. All they see is the primary goal. So while some of their sentiments have merit, their actions are deplorable.

Which leaves the audience kind of for, kind of against... everyone? (I hate that you can no longer use the term shades of grey without infantile sniggering). To make things interesting, character perspectives undergo constant change when transported back to the present day (which has the added benefit of making shocking about-faces during the season appear entirely credible).

3. Relationships In The Show Never Quite Develop The Way You Expect Them To.
This is due in part to reveals throughout the season. Because we didn't get under the skin of the characters in the future-set opener, their myriad motivations weren't clear. 

At first, the audience is running on Keira's perspective, which is (trained to be) black and white. As we learn more about the actions of those in the future that lead to this scenario in the (new) past, then follow that up with character choices in the present day, everything begins to shift. 

One of my favourite unfolding relationships is between Keira and Kellog, who starts out as an (albeit oddball) baddy, and becomes one of the more interesting characters. Originally an escaped terrorist, through a series of flashback reveals we see how he ended up in this scenario. Thanks to unexpected happenings and resulting (present day) choices, his relationship with Keira changes drastically.

I also like that her relationship with her present day police partner Carlos is never as close as the audience expects it to be. I like that he is intuitive enough to realise something is wrong and that Keira remains unusually circumspect with him from the outset. It's not quite how opposite sex procedural partnerships onscreen generally unfold, which makes it interesting.

4. The Time Travel Aspect Doesn't Suck.

Ah, time travel. A writer's bane. Just ask anyone who ever worked on one of the Star Trek tv shows. PARADOXICAL pretty much sums it up. (And by paradoxical, read PAIN IN THE @#$).

Rather than clearly defining the rules of time travel, Continuum has the audience attempting to discover the boundaries and repercussions along with the characters. It's a nice touch. 

One episode sees the characters attempting to knock off their enemies ancestors in the present day. Theoretically it seems like it should work. If your grandparent dies, you should just fade, right? (Although in terms of narrative, it would be a mess. The entire series would become one long manhunt for nan 'n pop in the past).

This problem was overcome when one of the character's ancestors (in the present day) is killed... and, DRUM ROLL... nothing happens to the character who has travelled back from the future. He doesn't cease to exist, even though he technically will never be born now that his bloodline has been annihilated. 

That's right. It's a PARADOX.

Instead, there are very different repercussions. The logically possible 'what if?' domino effects of changing the past, come to nothing. Instead, future changes occur because of the emotional repercussions of this act. 

Watching a beloved grandmother die in front of him (albeit as a teenager), alters a character's behaviour drastically. So yes, killing an ancestor in the present day changes the future, but in an entirely unexpected way, one that has nothing to do with science or genetics. 

Nice writing.

5. The Lead Works.

Firstly, actress Rachel Nichols played Uhura's green roommate in the Star trek movie reboot. (For some reason I always get a kick out of this fact). She's great here because, frankly, she's a good actress. She's also quite solid for a female tv lead (and by solid, I mean there are whole parts of her body where her bones aren't sticking out). Basically, whenever she's onscreen, she owns it.

Nowadays, so many shows seem to have brilliant supporting cast and a wishy-washy lead. Continuum has a brilliant supporting cast and a great lead, so it's a double whammy. (Also very happy to see Victor Webster get a lead role. He was Phoebe's love interest in Charmed back in the day, and more recently, Beckett's love interest in Castle. A lead role is long overdue).

Frankly, I don't know what they're feeding them thespians over in Canada. Is it something in the water? The talent quotient in the acting community is phenomenal.

Back on point... the character of Keira seems like a real person. You see a number of reviewers online complaining about how contradictory some of her actions are, but that is what makes people human. She's traumatised, vulnerable and in shock. Basically, she's written 3D. (I also appreciate the flashbacks that deal with turning points in her life, they're very humanising).

Notably, this show is also one of the only times that tv writers have managed to make motherhood seem relevant, rather than annoying. (Can anyone say, The Good Wife?).

One of the plot problems is the conflict between the terrorists' need to change the future, and Keira's desire to both get back there AND keep it intact. Flashbacks show us the character Keira's marriage was a tad dodgy. Since her ethical perspective is starting to reluctantly shift (in that she's beginning to see problems with the political situation in the future), there needs to be an overwhelming drive to maintain that status quo, even though she's beginning to no longer believe in it... otherwise, the series would lose its primary conflict! Hence, the child.

Changing history could mean her son is never born. Now there's a serious moral and ethical internal struggle for the lead character as the series continues. Can she choose to help the world become a better place, if it simultaneously means ensuring her beloved only son ceases to exist?

6. Choices and Repercussions Rule The Roost.
Oh, does this show love to load up expected (and unexpected) consequences. 

Bringing characters back from the past and dropping them in the present is riveting, because these individuals know firsthand how small decisions in today's world have a snowball effect on the future. They're displaced, literally out of time, and see change as both friend and foe. 

They're also disconnected from the present day world because they see it as their past (even though they now live in it). They're not really emotionally attached to society in any way. Only our heroine Keira has formed some connections, but even those were made reluctantly, and more from necessity than choice.

The closest person to Keira in the present day is Alec, the teen tech genius who pretty much (kind of) rules the world in the future. His motivations (as an old man) remain a mystery. Bringing his (future) actions into question as the series unravels means even the one person who is Keira's present day safety net can't be completely trusted.

All the characters are living in a constant state of unimaginable pressure. The choices they make are never really flippant or off the cuff, because CONSEQUENCE is a leading theme here. A deceptively simple action can truly change the world. The whole concept is kind of mindboggling.

AND FINALLY, the season finale is pretty kickass.