a fair and balanced birdthing (raaven) wrote,
a fair and balanced birdthing
raaven

Roswell - In loving memory

When I was a young teen, my best friend and I had a favorite thing to do. We'd dress all in black, and go walking around the neighborhood at night. Whenever we'd hear a car, we'd rush for the trees, the ditch, the shadows. Anywhere to hide. We'd convince ourselves that we were secret agents, on a vital mission. We considered ourselves very successful if the car never slowed, and in mortal danger if it did. I remember crouching deep under a large bush, the two of us, trying hard not to breathe or twitch, as someone actually got out to investigate.

We'd also sit for hours, spinning fantasies about our future lives…in exotic locations, with our current favorite rock stars or celebrities. In our dreams we were beautiful, and famous, and talented and adored.

There was, in both of these games, something of what I think all humans crave…danger, excitement, the belief that you're more important than you are really. The longing for a life greater than the one you have. We were on the brink of the rest of our lives…and it was the great, scary, exhilarating unknown that we were about to leap into. Every thing seemed of stellar importance, every occasion was an omen or a portent.

I lost touch with my friend many years ago, but I sometimes still get flashes of that wistfulness, that awareness that something *important* is just around the corner…the perfect passionate love, the chance to save the world, the do-or-die moment that would catapult us to stardom. I sometimes think it's all about magic.

That long lost, nearly forgotten exhilaration is the vein that Jason Katims tapped into with the show Roswell. The show is all about that longing come true, in the form of love destined, aliens in dire need of safety and understanding…and of finding, if only for a little while, a place to trust. A place to blossom in safety. A place to belong, when you just know there is no one in the world who could really understand.

Roswell was about magic, and being dangerously special, and about love and sacrifice. For three years, we watched and imagined ourselves aliens…overcoming outstanding odds & obstacles to be able to live, in peace, with those we loved. The angst of the Roswell characters became our own; this was heightened by the constantly shaky status of the show's return each season.

I'm a sucker for angst, ask anyone.

I'm also a sucker for well-done opening credits, and the Roswell credits are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. Sometimes I still tear up watching them.

Now we've come to the end. The sets have been struck, the final episode has aired. Our beloved aliens rode off into the sunset; to work their magic in the world, and to continue on in our imaginations.

And perhaps eventually we'll even get Roswell on DVD, to relive.
Tags: tv
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