Sic Transit Gloria Theatri: A Review of The Event 1.06 by Pearson Moore

Simon Lee saved the day.

Simon was at the centre of the episode from beginning to end. His coffee shop ruse was brilliant. His dedication to President and Country was admirable. But it was his unrequited love for Violet that stole our hearts and left us misty-eyed. Their love in 1954, rediscovered in 2000, proved that passion never dies and even elementary errors can be forgiven.

Simon Lee saved the day. He saved the episode. I am not sure, however, that his efforts will save the series. The series may have suffered irreparable harm, not from Simon, but from a journalist breaking a police cordon. Here is my take on The Event, Episode 1.06.



Ex Uni Plures: The Scandium Scandal



I am Spartacus!

I enjoyed seeing Simon deploy a clever solution to the problem of a radioactive tracer embedded in his leader’s digestive system. The solution was not unique, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen it used in a television drama. The device of Ex uni plures was best used in the 1960 film Spartacus, at the end of the movie when Spartacus and thousands of his men had been caught by the Roman army. The Roman general, Crassus, demanded to know which of them was Spartacus. Before Spartacus could say anything, his first lieutenant, Antoninus stood and shouted, “I am Spartacus!” Soon a few and then hundreds of his men stood, each one shouting, “I am Spartacus!” Last night’s modern version of Ex uni plures was entertaining and very nicely done.

Scandium-46 has relatively low toxicity, and it is routinely used as a tracer in industrial applications. The relatively low atomic weight isotope has a half-life of three months. It would be active in Sophia for only seven hours, though, since it would not be absorbed by her body. Sterling advised that the Scandium source would have been available only to the field units. This seems plausible, since the Scandium would have to be rendered into a form suitable for ingestion, which is not a trivial technical point. The writers and researchers did excellent work here, turning complicated scientific knowledge into a simple and credible idea that even lay people could understand and appreciate. The entire scene was perfectly designed and brilliantly executed.

Amor Vincit Omnia



The relationship between Simon (called ‘Nathan’ in 1954?) and Violet was the heart and soul of last night’s episode, and the firm rationale for Simon’s decision to throw his loyalty to the good people of planet Earth. This was an action swelling with significance and will certainly have major reverberations throughout the remainder of the series.

The idea that love does not die is the basis of much of poetry and literature, but science fiction is allowed to exploit this foundational element of drama in ways unavailable to any other genre. “Forever Young”, “Somewhere in Time”, and “Highlander” are representative of science fiction films employing the familiar device of time travel or differential aging to demonstrate the timelessness and permanence of love. The relationship need not be between lovers. The 160-year-old time-travelling Mr. Spock expressed the truth of his lifelong friendship to a thirty-year-old James T. Kirk in the most recent Star Trek movie, telling Kirk, “I have been and always shall be your friend.” This statement has enormous significance in Star Trek, since Spock used the same words decades ago at a dramatically critical moment.

The bedside scene between Simon and Violet in 2000 will have no less significance to The Event than the friendship between Spock and Kirk and its meaning to the fifty-year history of Star Trek. Simon was born in a place devoid of large bodies of water, to a race that has at least been dabbling in interstellar space travel. He has decided that the lowly human race—hundreds, thousands, or even millions of years less developed than his kind—is worthy of his full allegiance. This is again an idea not unique to The Event, but deeply embedded in traditional science fiction. That human beings perpetrate the greatest imaginable crimes is part of our story, but we recognise in our humanity virtues of infinite merit and eternal sustenance.



In Star Trek, for example, Mr. Spock’s Vulcan civilisation is based on logic, while human civilisation is portrayed as a mixture of compassion and devotion to the Common Good. The truest expression of humanity is not pure logic (Mr. Spock) or pure compassion (Dr. Leonard McCoy), but the rational pursuit of compassion, exemplified by Captain James T. Kirk. Thus, in Star Trek, both Spock and McCoy are allowed to voice their opinions, but it is the full expression of humanity, embodied in Captain Kirk, that is given decision-making authority.

In like manner, Simon has suborned loyalty to compassion. His choice is clearly The Event’s choice. We should expect to see a similar outcome on President Martinez’s side, and it is upon this point that the series could become not only entertaining, but profound.

Cool Considerate Men



What is loyalty?

In 1776, loyalty to the cause of independence meant treason to the cause of King and Country. Loyalty was nothing less than treason. What is the true motivation and nature of loyalty? It is not a primary virtue. Upon this most of literature agrees. But which of the human virtues supplies soil rich enough to support the growth of loyalty?

Probably the nascent ideas of the Enlightenment were sufficient for men such as Voltaire and Jefferson, but I doubt they swayed the conscience of the common man. “We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” [I may not have every word exactly correct, but it’s been 40 years since I first memorised them!] These are powerful words, ‘fightin’ words’ dispatched across the Atlantic to King George III. They were read in assemblies and in town squares during that remarkable summer and autumn of 1776, and I would imagine they stirred many a rebel heart. But not everyone was moved by them. Motivation to confer loyalties is not derived of a single source, but of origins as diverse as the virtues that compel the human heart.

In the musical “1776”, John Adams from the rebel stronghold of Massachusetts is pitted against John Dickinson from the more reflective colony of Pennsylvania. This is the colony that elected Dr. Benjamin Franklin to represent its interests in the Continental Congress. But the people also elected Mr. Dickinson, a staunch loyalist who nevertheless loved Pennsylvania and its citizens. In the final session of July 2, 1776, against Dickinson’s vigorous objections and pleadings, Pennsylvania joined the other twelve colonies in voting for independence from Great Britain. Dickinson, loyal to the King and loyal to the people of Pennsylvania, had a decision to make. He could never sign the Declaration of Independence, but this did not mean his loyalties were clear. This is what he said: “I'm sorry, Mr. President, I cannot, in good conscience, sign such a document. I will never stop hoping for our eventual reconciliation with England. But because, in my own way, I regard America no less than does Mr. Adams, I will join the Army and fight in her defence.” A surprise to Adams, a surprise to every other legislator in the downtown Philadelphia building that came to be called Independence Hall. But not a surprise to those who truly knew John Dickinson. He was in every way a man of integrity.

I believe such a complex and nuanced motivation may be driving Simon Lee’s loyalty to the people of Earth. At his bedside meeting in 2000 with his beloved Violet, she knew she was speaking with Simon, but he had not aged a day since she last saw him forty-four years before.

“Are you an angel?” she asked.
“No, I’m far from that.”

Simon does not see himself as an ultimate good, but he does understand the human race to be essentially good, and has as much compassion for all of us as he had love for Violet. His is a loyalty to something greater than himself, worthy of his love, compassion, and dedication.

If the Martinez Administration is composed of people of integrity, we ought to see from some of them declarations and acts of fealty similar to those of Simon Lee and John Dickinson. People of good will may disagree on a hierarchy of virtues, but may nevertheless end up backing the same cause, though perhaps in different ways. But this means we ought to see instances of actions from those on Martinez’s team that at first appear treasonous. If the writers are astute, they should be able to create complex and compelling drama based on multi-faceted notions of loyalty, compassion, and self-interest.

Deux Ex Scriptore



The confrontation between Madeleine Jackson and Sean and Leila was well executed and filled with tension from beginning to end. But the scene was fundamentally flawed. Acting, direction, costume choice, make up, environment, and every other aspect of cinematography were good or even excellent. The problem was not in execution, but in concept and preparation. The scene, and others like it in earlier episodes, was juvenile, based on dramatic concepts that have been dismissed as severely lacking for over 2300 years.

Carter—the bad guy—told Leila that her father was involved in events that led to her abduction. “He’s no angel. The way I heard it, he brought this on himself.”

As far as we know, this is the first we have heard that Leila was given any reason to suspect her father’s involvement in any conspiracy. Apparently based on Carter’s word alone, she talks Sean into driving her to Georgia, convinced that something in her parents’ house will indicate her father’s connection to a nebulous conspiracy about which she knows practically nothing.

Leila wants to go to her parents’ home, but the desire is based on the word of a person who only hours before was intent on killing her. What is her motivation for believing him trustworthy? She thinks she will find something at her parents’ home connecting her father to a conspiracy. This is problematic for a number of reasons. First, she knows next to nothing about the conspiracy, probably doesn’t even know that a true conspiracy is under way. Second, she can therefore know nothing about her father’s involvement in any conspiracy. Third, we are aware of no fact, event, or connection between facts and events that might cause her to recognise anything in her father’s belongings as indicating a connection to anything outside the ordinary.

Why did Leila wish to go to her parents’ house? As far as I can tell, the only reasonable motivation is that the writers needed her to go, and they were too lazy to come up with a plausible reason to get her there—so they just had Sean and Leila jump in an SUV, perhaps thinking that grave, resolute expressions on actors’ faces would somehow make up for a complete lack of imagination on the writers’ part.

Upon their arrival in Georgia [weren’t they just in Texas? How did they cross five state lines and travel nearly 1500 kilometres in the two hours or so it took President Martinez to catch up with Sophia?], things only got worse. Much worse.

Seeing an article of children’s clothing in one of her father’s office files, some connection was triggered in Leila’s mind, and she shifted her attention to the family’s attic. There, almost as if pulled by a magnet, she discovered articles on mysterious events in Alaska.

The fact that a connection occurred to Leila in her father’s office is interesting, and I can only hope future episodes will illuminate the nature of that connection. But the events that next transpired overshadowed any value that might accrue from a deeper exploration of Leila’s epiphany.

Out of nowhere, a gun-wielding journalist, Madeleine Jackson, suddenly appeared. There were many problems with this development. We are aware of no parallel events that might explain Jackson’s appearance in the Buchanan home at that exact time. Not only is the timing extremely coincidental, but Jackson is connected to the particular items Leila holds in her hands at the time Jackson points a gun in her face.

We have no reason to believe anything in Leila’s understanding could have driven her to that particular file in her parents’ attic. We have no reason to believe she would understand that collection of papers as being in any way out of the ordinary.

Further destroying the credibility of this scene, Jackson crossed a police barricade, illegally entered a home, and pointed a gun at two people she didn’t know at precisely the moment they were inspecting documents the gun-wielding journalist and people like her had written. In fact, it was the events upon which the documents were based that formed Jackson’s reason for appearing at the Buchanan home.

The worst part of this was yet to come. If the writers had simply made her a babbling, incoherent insane woman, the scene might have worked. But they committed the grave error of giving her meaningful lines, and having her articulate exactly the conspiracy that was detailed in the magazine reprints Leila held in her hands.

The scene was one implausible, too-coincidental event piled on top of another and then yet another. And all of it was oriented toward the final revelation of Jackson, who told Leila and Sean things we already knew, but more importantly, she was the implausible figure who stepped out of nowhere to move the plot forward.

This kind of device is called Deus Ex Machina (god from the machine), after a common device in the plays of ancient Greece. It is a device that has been despised for over two millennia.

In his The Poetics, Aristotle provided one of the first and possibly still the best condemnation of the childish device called Deus Ex Machina:

“As in the structure of the plot, so too in the portraiture of character, the poet should always aim either at the necessary or the probable. Thus a person of a given character should speak or act in a given way, by the rule either of necessity or of probability; just as this event should follow that by necessary or probable sequence. It is therefore evident that plot development, no less than plot complications, must arise out of the plot itself, it must not be brought about by the Deus ex Machina... Within the action there must be nothing irrational...” (Aristotle, The Poetics, 2.15.2)

In this latest and sad use of Deus Ex Machina, a journalist was employed as the irrational voice that appears from outside the confines of the plot. She was a “Deus Ex Scriptore” (god from the journalist).

Deux Ex Machina does not work because it destroys credibility. The scene could have been structured so much better. Here’s an example of the way the scene could have been produced to good effect.

Back in Episode Two, Michael Buchanan is talking with Sean near the crashed airplane. “Take this,” Michael says, handing Sean a key and gasping for air. “It’s Wallace. Leila will know.” He sees Sean looking into the sky, fear in the boy’s eyes. Michael swivels around, sees the approaching gunships. He shouts to Sean, “Run! Get out of here! Find Leila!” Four episodes later, Sean shows Leila the key. The key is marked “STANTON”. “Your father gave me this key,” Sean says. “He said is was ‘Wallace’—said you’d know what it is.” Leila takes the key in her hands, trying to make sense of it. “I don’t know any ‘Wallace’,” she says, turning the key about in her hand. Suddenly, she laughs. “Oh, Wallace!” Sean looks at her, baffled. “Wallace—I was too young to say ‘wall safe’, so I said ‘Wallace’ and that’s what my dad’s called it ever since. It’s the key to the safe in his office. We have to go to Georgia, right now.”

Final Words

It is possible that Jackson did not appear from nowhere, that in fact she is integral to the plot. It is possible that Leila knows more about her father than has yet been revealed. It is possible there are no coincidences, only destinies. It is possible that last week Vicky’s motivations were more complicated than we were led to believe. It is possible that when the recreation vehicle crashed into the car at the Sheriff’s barricade three episodes ago it was not, as Doc Jensen called it, “Deus Ex RV”. On top of all this, it is also possible my initial assessment regarding character development was correct: The characters hold the keys to The Event, and it is for this reason alone that characters are not being developed in a manner we might expect, but in a way that some have characterised as being inadequate. That is, possibly the characters have to be poorly developed for the story to work.

All of this is possible, and I will be very glad indeed at some time in the future to face up to what may be a hasty and unfair assessment of the show so far. But I believe the most likely explanation for apparent inadequacies in the writing and the storytelling is simpler: The writing is inadequate and amateurish.

I hope THE EVENT finds its true voice. Perhaps this will be accomplished with the current creative staff. I think the odds of this are low, however. If the series is going to be salvaged, it is my opinion that proven writers, capable of writing compelling serial drama, will have to be identified and quickly installed as the creative heads of production, and that they be given carte blanche to turn this show around.

I will not be offering reviews of future episodes of THE EVENT. If production quality improves dramatically, I may well decide to resume essays. The idea of the series is fascinating, and I believe could make for an excellent television drama. I wish everyone involved with the effort only the best, and to those who continue to enjoy this programme, I wish weekly instalments of pleasant diversion and rousing entertainment.

PM