Once upon a time, in what used to be a far away land called Hollywood but is now a state of mind and everywhere, a young actor was handed a script and asked to bring to life a character called Starbuck. I am that actor. The script was called Battlestar Galactica.
Fortunately I was young, my imagination fertile and adrenal glands strong, because bringing Starbuck to life was over the dead imaginations of a lot of Network Executives. Every character trait I struggled to give him was met with vigourous resistance. A charming womaniser? The “Suits” (Network Executives) hated it. A cigar (fumerello) smoker? The Suits hated it. A reluctant hero who found humour in the bleakest of situations? The Suits hated it. All this negative feedback convinced me I was on the right track.
Starbuck was meant to be a loveable rogue. It was best for the show, best for the character and the best that I could do. The Suits didn’t think so. “One more cigar and he’s fired,”they told Glen Larson, the creator of the show. “We want Starbuck to appeal to the female audience for crying out loud!” You see, the Suits knew women were turned off by men who smoked cigars. Especially young men. (How they “knew” this was never revealed.) And they didn’t stop there. “If Dirk doesn’t quit playing every scene with a girl like he wants to get her in bed, he’s fired!” This was, well, it was blatant heterosexuality. Treating women like “sex objects”. I thought it was flirting. Never mind. They wouldn’t have it.