Babylon 5: “And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place”/“Shadow Dancing”
“And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place” (season three, episode 20; originally aired 10/7/1996)
It's not just competence that Babylon 5 has, now that it's finishing its third season. It's also style. The climactic scene of “And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place” is easily the show's most stylish so far, depicting the brutal but justified murder of Lord Refa by a gang of righteously angry Narns as a gospel singer joyously belts out the song from the episode's title. It's a bizarre combination on the surface, in that the levity of the singing on the station (look how awkward Lennier is!) doesn't match the violence of Refa's death.
In the continuing discussions of Babylon 5 as a transitional television series, I've usually focused on how it's relatively old-fashioned, especially in episodic form, as a method of explaining why it can occasionally be difficult if you're coming to it from more modern shows. But in this case, Babylon 5 was ahead of its time; “And The Rock…” is a firm step forward. The sort of ironic juxtaposition as it appears in this episode has become a hallmark of “quality television” series, particularly when it comes to violence. Babylon 5's transitional science fiction cousin, The X-Files, had a similar violence/music juxtaposition in its supremely creepy episode “Home”— which aired the same week as “And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place” in the United States.
On the other hand, the connection between the music and the action isn't just irony. They go together quite well thematically. The gospel song is about the inability of evil to get away from the justice of a vengeful God, it is Old Testament in its assertions of power and righteousness. Meanwhile, the assassination Londo orders against Refa is similar: Refa is evil, we know Refa is evil, and the Narns know Refa is evil. Londo brings Old Testament “fire and brimstone” down upon him for it, and the Narns do because Refa had brought near-literal fire and brimstone to their planet.
To see righteous punishment served, even if it is extra-judicial and by the fiat of the show's heroes, is joyous in a certain sense. Indeed, two of my favorite television episodes just this year did something similar, with Raylan Givens taking out an assassin next to badass guitar music in Justified's “Outlaw” and Dany surprising a nasty bunch of slavers in Game Of Thrones' “And Now His Watch Is Ended.” Writing this out seems odd and mildly disturbing to me, as though I have a character flaw that demands visual proof of fictional crimes punished. And yet I can't deny the power of the viewing. For whatever reasons, scenes like Refa's death work extremely well.
The methods by which Londo contrives to have Refa assassinated comprise the bulk of “And The Rock….” Babylon 5 plays an interesting formal game here, too, in that it doesn't actually show what Londo is up to. Until G'Kar pulls Londo's hologram out, everything seems to be proceeding linearly. Londo decides to have G'Kar assassinated in order to win a political struggle at home, he manipulates Vir into joining him, then Refa gets the information from Vir and wins the race to get to G'Kar first. But there's a secret game we don't see—and cleverly, the show doesn't actually use the necessary words other than Londo's initial manipulation. Both he and G'Kar never actually say that G'Kar is there to rescue Na'Toth, or that the goal is G'Kar's death. Normally I dislike it when shows withhold information and secret motivation from the viewers just to portray a twist later, but in this case, it works because the initial misdirection seems so plausible. Peter Jurasik's vicious, apparently evil monologue to force Vir to help him also sells the concept. Londo has been that cruel before, and his apparent turn back toward the light hasn't gone so far that we don't think he couldn't do it again.
There's one slight flaw in this, though. While the twist, when it arrives, is a damn effective example of how to do a twist, the secrecy means that we don't actually see Londo and G'Kar interact directly. If you, like me, consider their relationship to be the very best part of the show, missing this turning point, when they become allies of convenience after being blood enemies, is a disappointment. I want to see the conversation where Londo goes to G'Kar and tells him that he wants to make a deal. I want to know how Mollari got his foot in that door, and then how he sealed the deal. Is the twist being a surprise worth it? I'm not sure, for first-time viewers, and every time after my disappointment grows.
In terms of things “And The Rock…” actually does that are disappointing, it falls back on odd gender stereotypes that Babylon 5 usually avoids. First, there's Vir's description of Na'Toth: “Remember G'kar's aide, Na'Toth?” “Remember? I still have the claw marks!” Sure, it's a bit amusing, but the idea that a strong-minded female character has “claws” falls into stereotypes about how women fight. Then there's Delenn, dragging Sheridan out of the War Room using wife banter that wouldn't be out of place in a 1950s sitcom. “Yes, John, of course, John, whatever you say, John.” Finally, Sheridan gets a monologue from the guest star, a Baptist preacher, about how you know when someone you love is there to share responsibility. But the example he uses is about how his future wife would come over and clean his apartment for him. Individually, these scenes wouldn't really jump out as anything other than mildly weird, but all together, it has “And The Rock…” tell an oddly old-fashioned gender story.
It's a pity that Refa won't be around to devour scenery, and then use the bones of the background extras to floss with. But even though he's the first of our four major antagonists to receive his comeuppance, he gets it in such style that I can't complain. “And The Rock Cried Out, No Hiding Place” may, as a full episode, be slightly below Babylon 5's pantheon, but it does have one of the very best scenes in the show's history.
