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Babylon 5, Season Two, Episode Twenty-One, "Comes the Inquisitor"

Narrative bullshit and narrative honesty.

Like much of Babylon 5, “Comes the Inquisitor” must be contextualized within the larger narrative; I’ll try and keep spoilers outside the episode itself brief and vague. The context is that Delenn (Mira Furlan), representative of the Minbari aliens and crucial player in the upcoming war, has been asked to submit to an interrogation by her superior to determine if she’s ready for what comes. Her interrogator is the mysterious Sebastian, who claims to be a human from 1888, and he subjects her to torture to try and confess that she is not up to the sacrifices necessary. All the great elements of this story – the magnificent performances from Furlan and Wayne Alexander, conveying the sheer force of will of Sebastian required to do what he does, as well as the occasional turn of phrase and intense direction – fail to overcome that the narrative basis is bullshit.

From the moment Sebastian comes onscreen, it becomes obvious how the narrative will turn out; even if I didn’t know Delenn and the depths of her fanaticism by this point, it’s fairly obvious that she’ll reveal depth of character that will impress Sebastian, which is to say that I see the heavy hand of the author. This plot isn’t driven by necessity or reaction; there is explicitly no reason for this plot to exist on a mechanical level, it’s just one character dicking about with another to find out what their motivation is, which makes it the author telling me how to interpret his character and telling me to be wildly impressed by her resolve.

I don’t care for manipulative writing like this outside of a playful comedy. Obviously, it’s predictable, but there are other reasons; for one, I find it needlessly sadistic to one’s characters. If you tell me this character is not a person but just a signifier to bully, I’ll roll with it (Always Sunny and to an extent Futurama operate like this), but if you tell me this character is a person with motivations that I should care about, then you can’t come down as an author and start fucking with their free will. I simply cannot take the consequences of action seriously when there’s someone with their thumb on the scale. Of course the world works that way when you can make it work that way!

I often compare things with other things, and in this case, I can compare “Comes the Inquisitor” to four different episodes of television. The first and most obvious is “Once Upon A Time” of The Prisoner, which this episode must surely be a reference to. In that, the protagonist is subject to surreal torture in order to reveal his motivation, but that is in fact quite an urgent task on the part of his torturer, risking his own death just as much as his target, so even through the surrealism (let alone introspection) of the episode lies a sense of urgency.

The second and third are, oddly, episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. The first of these is “Chain of Command”, a two-parter in which Captain Picard is interrogated and tortured by Cardassians. The purpose of this story isn’t to show off how tough and dedicated the characters are, it’s to explore the motivations behind and consequences of torture itself; the torture is eventually revealed to be worthless for interrogation and done entirely out of spiteful cruelty, and famously, Picard admits at the end that it worked in breaking his mind at the end. The second is “Thine Own Self”, in which Troi is subject to a variant on the Kobayashi Maru test, a no-win scenario designed to teach Starfleet officers that not all scenarios are winnable. We have a step up on Troi in knowing that she’s trying to win an unwinnable situation; again, there’s a point to this beyond cruelty to the character in showing the consequences of Troi’s righteous commitment.

The final plot I want to focus on is, in fact,  a scene within “Comes the Inquisitor” itself. Vyr is a civil servant for the Centauri Empire, and he steps into an elevator, only to see G’Kar, the main representative of the very species Vyr’s government is currently committing war crimes and genocide against. Vyr has long been established as a weak man with a real sense of decency, and he can’t not apologize to G’Kar for the evil done against his people, to which G’Kar melodramatically and sincerely responds with a reminder of all the blood on his people’s hands.

This is a scene completely devoid of bullshit; raw, honest, driven. Vyr recognizes his place within this system and is honest about it, including about his attempts to prevent it, and G’Kar becomes a physical manifestation of his people. Admittedly, this scene has less effect on the plot than the main story, at least within this episode; I haven’t seen past this episode yet, so I don’t know if Vyr goes on to advocate for the Narn or whatever. But it’s a real moment in which I forget this is a television show with actors in funny makeup; it’s uncomfortable, dangerous, and deeply compelling. This is not someone manipulating events in front of me – this is a logical and painful extension of the basic premises I have agreed to follow. This is a moment of life.