Nearly two decades after Ronald D. Moore’s acclaimed reimagining of Battlestar Galactica, the saga returns with Battlestar Galactica: Razor (2025), a bold, standalone prequel that cuts deep into the mythology, trauma, and grey morality of the First Cylon War. Directed by Denis Villeneuve, this cinematic installment expands the BSG universe with breathtaking visuals, haunting moral questions, and a relentless tone that earns its title.
Set 40 years before the fall of the Twelve Colonies, Razor follows Commander Helena Cain in her earlier years aboard the original Battlestar Pegasus. While fans know Cain as the uncompromising, sometimes terrifying leader introduced in the 2004 series, this prequel digs into what made her that way. Played by Rebecca Ferguson, Cain is complex, layered, and magnetic—a soldier forged by impossible choices in a war humanity was unprepared for.
When the Cylons launch a surprise strike on the colony of Tauron, Cain—then a tactical officer—rises through blood and chaos to take command. What begins as a counter-offensive soon spirals into a descent of brutality, as Cain authorizes missions that blur the line between survival and atrocity. Alongside her is Lieutenant Alaric Venn (portrayed by John Boyega), a young officer whose idealism begins to crack under the weight of Cain’s leadership.
Visually, Razor (2025) is stunning. Villeneuve and cinematographer Greig Fraser create a cold, metallic battlefield in space, punctuated by flickers of horror and silence. Dogfights feel like poetry in motion, but it’s the quiet corridors, empty cockpits, and AI-haunted ruins that deliver the emotional weight. The Cylons, though less physically present than in the reimagined series, are terrifying in their unseen precision—like ghosts in the system.
Thematically, Razor explores not just war, but legacy. Cain constantly references “what must be done,” and we watch her harden into the ruthless figure who would later execute civilians during the post-Fall era. Yet the film refuses to demonize her outright. Instead, it asks: what would you sacrifice for your species to survive? And is survival worth it without humanity?
The score by Clint Mansell echoes Bear McCreary’s original motifs, mixing tribal drums with mournful synths, giving the film a spiritual, almost mythic feeling. Die-hard fans will appreciate deeper lore: glimpses of the Final Five, whispers of the First Hybrid, and a chilling Cylon transmission that says, “This is not the beginning. This is remembrance.”
A mid-credits tease shows the early construction of the Resurrection Ship, hinting at the Cylons’ shift toward post-human philosophy. If a sequel follows, we may finally see how the seeds of the Cylon rebellion evolved into the near-genocidal ideology that would define the main series.
