DOCTOR WHO
"The Lodger”
12/06/2010
BBC One
James Corden may have peaked too early. The first time I saw him was on a Tango ad, where his house was invaded by swarms of red-head men and he was driven to madness as they broke his spirit. It was great comedy. The next time I saw him was in 2002's Cruise of the Gods, where he played - fittingly - a fanboy of a naff 80s sci-fi series, all too painfully aware of his own ironies, whilst also deeply in love with a show with heart as well as tack. Sound familiar? It was plainly Davison and (Colin) Baker-era Who, with a dash of Blake's 7 and a hint of the obscure kids' TV sci-fi show Captain Zep. He showed a lot of promise, bringing together a studied wit with a real vulnerability.
Then he peaked too soon with the overrated Gavin & Stacey as Gavin's bff, Smithy. Neither as inspired as some claim, nor likely to be remembered, it typecast him as the archetypical fat oaf, a role he still plays now on TV with his own James Corden's World Cup. And then there are disasters like Horne & Corden or the bleeding awful Lesbian Vampire Killers. Nothing fucks you over like early success, and yet as his rather sparkling performance in the TV adaption of 'The Gruffalo' (!!!) shows, he can still bring vim and vigour to his performances, when he's allowed to.
So is his role as straight man to Who 11 in 'The Lodger' a disaster or a renaissance? The bad news is that he's still playing a fat oaf, but the good news is that he brings some of that old humanity to the role, and makes us sympathise with his character Craig Owens, a loser-in-the-making, marking time at a dead end job and making eyes at his best friend and unrequited love Sophie (Daisy Haggard) while sinking into a fast-food-and-lager stasis. True, Corden is playing to type, but on the other hand, it's nice to have a lardy performer who neither apologises nor really cares about what you think re: his waistline, and Corden also puts in an entertaining, engaging and funny performance. He's still got it, after all!
Alas, there is also a nasty neighbour upstairs who keeps luring people into its lair and isn't letting them out, and a nasty black mould is spreading on the ceiling. Then a tall, lanky weirdo in a bow tie turns up at the door offering to rent out the spare room, cash in hand... And then hilarity ensues.
In many ways, then, this episode has a lot in common with 'zom-com' classic Shaun of the Dead. Both have a lovable loser whose dead end life is transformed by strange events and who ends up with the woman he loves because, and not despite, of the mayhem that ensues.
The main difference here is that it's Shaun's disgruntled girlfriend who makes the biggest journey in SoD, learning to accept Shaun for what he is rather than what she thinks he ought to be (the line 'At least you tried' can be read on many levels). Here, though, the loser's own failings, mediocrity and lack of courage is the focus, as the Doctor casually exposes Craig's every social, professional and intellectual flaw.
What is refreshing here, though, is that Craig benefits from this by finally accepting that he needs to admit his love for Sophie, and so allow his life to proceed. The Doctor is the catylist he needs rather than a threat to his manhood, despite how it may appear at points.
In previous Nu Who series, after all, the Doctor's challenging of the status quo is often portrayed as a Bad Thing. (Why Jackie Tyler's lumpenprole 'know your place' mentality was never really dealt with is just one of the show's many intellectual and moral failings. Donna Noble's mother also needed a proper bitch-slapping.) Here, though, the Doctor is more of a fairy god-doctor, which is perhaps how he should be portrayed - he is meant, after all, to be a force for good.
In any case, and as said, Corden does a good job of portraying a man who is, as the episode puts it, turning into his sofa, making his sloth and small-mindedness clear, while keeping him sympathetic nonetheless. Haggard's portrayal of Daisy is seamless too, her love for Craig contrasted with her urge to live a life beyond pizza, beer and call centres via a nimble balancing act from the performer.
Matt Smith's progress, meanwhile, continues ever onwards. He's still not sounding 'old' enough but he has the eccentricity nailed down and the episode cleverly takes him away from the TARDIS and too much Sonic Screwdriving, making him do what the Doctor should be doing - making it up on the spot and relying on his resourcefulness rather than a magic wand. Away from the ghastly Amy Pond, he also gets to work as a character in his own right and be, well, the star of the show. He can talk to cats and make sensors out of rotary clotheslines! He mindmelds by head-butting you! He can play football! He can act like an alien and really confuse Craig's friends! And his ability to see time out of synch, last seen way back in 'The Eleventh Hour', returns in this episode too, again to great effect, and in a way that makes you wish they'd used it more.
It's almost like this episode is a reminder of what a Who episode can be like without the bullshit. Even the aforementioned Pond-Beast is kept well away from the action, stuck on an unstable TARDIS, and only popping in now and then to remind us of what a total arse she is. The script is strong and well-written, with a villain that is original and not strictly speaking monstrous - merely ruthless, calculating and amoral. The only problem is when the story tries to do too much in too little time (a recurring problem with Nu Who as previous reviews have noted). But the episode also has a good structure, is fun to watch and is genuinely entertaining - if only it were part of the majority and not the minority in this ill-fated series! And if only the new TARDIS set looked as good as that of the alien ship, but that's another rant altogether...
WHOPOINTS 8
Saturday, 3 July 2010
Wednesday, 9 June 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 10: Van Gogh and the Disabled Space Chicken of Death.
DOCTOR WHO
"Vincent and the Doctor”
05/06/2010
BBC One
(Yes, I know this one is late. Stop whingeing.)
How the hell did this script ever get off the ground? I'm not talking about the quality of the end product here. But you have to admit that the episode pitch must have been a sight to behold: "Yeah, well Vincent van Gogh meets the Doctor and they end up fighting a killer space dinosaur-chicken. Hilarity ensues!" On the other hand, connections always help, and since it was Richard 'I've written loads of comedies, me!' Curtis who wrote this script, he could probably have got away with an episode wherein the Doctor travels back in time and eats dog shit with Divine.
For those unfamiliar with his work, Curtis is a sentimentalist of the worst kind, as seen by his buying into the mawkish, fatalistic and rather 2-D folk memory of World War One in the disappointing 'Blackadder Goes Forth', or the worst excesses in overrated rom-coms like Love Actually or 'Four Weddings...'. Don't even get me started on the historical liberties he took with 'The Boat That Rocked' or the Soma-and-Victory-Gin-sodden distortion of British life in shit like Notting Hill and Bridget Jones' Diary. He is the epitome of British luvvie culture - a hack with a lazy reliance on cheap schmaltz and a complacent view of the world echoed by his click-step behind the bien pensant and the banally liberal.
His script is fittingly uneven, then, with a flat and shallow story line and little beyond the three leads (and Bill Nighy, here playing a bow-tie loving art historians) to fill the episode with any real human emotion or meaning. This draws attention to the main test that the episode fails: When its main conceit is so silly, it had better damn well have some depth to it. But "Vincent & The Doctor" just doesn't - it makes no use of van Gogh's world beyond using it as a source of victims to be killed and angry mobs to throw stones.
Worse still, the alien is awful. other than having that fake CGI look, it also looks like an enormous plucked turkey. While not as bad as the oversized Vespid in 'The Lion & The Wasp', or as embarrassing as - well, 60% of all Who monsters, c. 1963-2010, if we're being honest - it still hints at CGI for its own sake. Whereas, the fact that it can only at first be seen by van Gogh (or the Doctor, if he's using the right equipment) should have been the case for the whole episode, the creature remaining invisible to the viewer and so remaining enigmatic. That would, however, have required giving the audience the benefit of the doubt and not indulging Nu Who's over reliance on special FX, so of course, we got a naff killer Bernard Matthews' instead.
Matt Smith puts in a better performance, continuing to become ever more his own Doctor. The only question is whether he can do this in time to justify both his own long-term place in the series, and indeed the future of that series. Certainly, as gratuitous archive shots of William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton show, the show is desperate to place Who XI into the canon through association, as if it feels like it has to overcompensate, which is rather worrying. Karen Gillan is blahblahblah etcetera, etcetera, crap but shows a flicker of depth when she is confronted by the mortality of her favourite painter. (As per usual, she turns out of the blue to be a van Gogh groupie, in that make-it-up-as-you-go-along Nu Who way.)
Tony Curran's Vincent van Gogh is good stuff and shows a lot of effort, but plainly lacks the time and space to be a fully developed performance. You can't really jam van Gogh into 45 minutes with a TARDIS and a space monster and properly explore the character - there isn't the room, but at least Curran does what he can. Again, the lack of length to many Nu Who episodes turns out to be something of an Achilles’ Heel. And the episode's doubling up as a tribute to Van Gogh isn't always that good. The gushing sentimentality that takes place when Vincent is taken to 2010 and an exhibition of his own works is truly vomit inducing. The only redeeming moment is when the trip proves less lifesaving than Amy hopes, van Gogh's fate still etched in stone, or rather onto the canvas with those striking, primal colours. At last, a harsh reality creeps in.
For the good parts, when they are there, are very strong indeed. The clever set design, which recreates the many settings for Van Gogh's paintings, stands out and even serves as an effective plot device. While the scene where the evening sky is transformed into 'Starry Night' is actually a sight to behold, inspiring and rousing, and one of only a very, very few highlights in what has been a worn-out and disappointing series. And then there are the little touches: The fact that the TARDIS translates Dutch into Scottish English or the pointed comment from the Doctor that he uses the Sonic Screwdriver too much hint at a script that is more than willing to admit its own ironies. Van Gogh's musing that the monster isn't that much different from the dumb villagers who fear and harass him is a genuinely sad moment.
"Vincent and the Doctor”
05/06/2010
BBC One
(Yes, I know this one is late. Stop whingeing.)
How the hell did this script ever get off the ground? I'm not talking about the quality of the end product here. But you have to admit that the episode pitch must have been a sight to behold: "Yeah, well Vincent van Gogh meets the Doctor and they end up fighting a killer space dinosaur-chicken. Hilarity ensues!" On the other hand, connections always help, and since it was Richard 'I've written loads of comedies, me!' Curtis who wrote this script, he could probably have got away with an episode wherein the Doctor travels back in time and eats dog shit with Divine.
For those unfamiliar with his work, Curtis is a sentimentalist of the worst kind, as seen by his buying into the mawkish, fatalistic and rather 2-D folk memory of World War One in the disappointing 'Blackadder Goes Forth', or the worst excesses in overrated rom-coms like Love Actually or 'Four Weddings...'. Don't even get me started on the historical liberties he took with 'The Boat That Rocked' or the Soma-and-Victory-Gin-sodden distortion of British life in shit like Notting Hill and Bridget Jones' Diary. He is the epitome of British luvvie culture - a hack with a lazy reliance on cheap schmaltz and a complacent view of the world echoed by his click-step behind the bien pensant and the banally liberal.
His script is fittingly uneven, then, with a flat and shallow story line and little beyond the three leads (and Bill Nighy, here playing a bow-tie loving art historians) to fill the episode with any real human emotion or meaning. This draws attention to the main test that the episode fails: When its main conceit is so silly, it had better damn well have some depth to it. But "Vincent & The Doctor" just doesn't - it makes no use of van Gogh's world beyond using it as a source of victims to be killed and angry mobs to throw stones.
Worse still, the alien is awful. other than having that fake CGI look, it also looks like an enormous plucked turkey. While not as bad as the oversized Vespid in 'The Lion & The Wasp', or as embarrassing as - well, 60% of all Who monsters, c. 1963-2010, if we're being honest - it still hints at CGI for its own sake. Whereas, the fact that it can only at first be seen by van Gogh (or the Doctor, if he's using the right equipment) should have been the case for the whole episode, the creature remaining invisible to the viewer and so remaining enigmatic. That would, however, have required giving the audience the benefit of the doubt and not indulging Nu Who's over reliance on special FX, so of course, we got a naff killer Bernard Matthews' instead.
Matt Smith puts in a better performance, continuing to become ever more his own Doctor. The only question is whether he can do this in time to justify both his own long-term place in the series, and indeed the future of that series. Certainly, as gratuitous archive shots of William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton show, the show is desperate to place Who XI into the canon through association, as if it feels like it has to overcompensate, which is rather worrying. Karen Gillan is blahblahblah etcetera, etcetera, crap but shows a flicker of depth when she is confronted by the mortality of her favourite painter. (As per usual, she turns out of the blue to be a van Gogh groupie, in that make-it-up-as-you-go-along Nu Who way.)
Tony Curran's Vincent van Gogh is good stuff and shows a lot of effort, but plainly lacks the time and space to be a fully developed performance. You can't really jam van Gogh into 45 minutes with a TARDIS and a space monster and properly explore the character - there isn't the room, but at least Curran does what he can. Again, the lack of length to many Nu Who episodes turns out to be something of an Achilles’ Heel. And the episode's doubling up as a tribute to Van Gogh isn't always that good. The gushing sentimentality that takes place when Vincent is taken to 2010 and an exhibition of his own works is truly vomit inducing. The only redeeming moment is when the trip proves less lifesaving than Amy hopes, van Gogh's fate still etched in stone, or rather onto the canvas with those striking, primal colours. At last, a harsh reality creeps in.
For the good parts, when they are there, are very strong indeed. The clever set design, which recreates the many settings for Van Gogh's paintings, stands out and even serves as an effective plot device. While the scene where the evening sky is transformed into 'Starry Night' is actually a sight to behold, inspiring and rousing, and one of only a very, very few highlights in what has been a worn-out and disappointing series. And then there are the little touches: The fact that the TARDIS translates Dutch into Scottish English or the pointed comment from the Doctor that he uses the Sonic Screwdriver too much hint at a script that is more than willing to admit its own ironies. Van Gogh's musing that the monster isn't that much different from the dumb villagers who fear and harass him is a genuinely sad moment.
And the Doctor's closing speech, that life can and must be a combination of both the good and the bad and that one doesn't always overshadow the other, has a maturity the show hasn't had in years, nay decades. Curtis is, then, more like RTD than Moffat - he can very occasionally do good things when he's not entangled in his own tropes or writing cheesy dialogue for floppy haired twats like Hugh Grant. Still, it could have been better, which is pretty much the case for the rest of this benighted species, but at least it isn't as bad as some of the lamer episodes.
WHOPOINTS 6
WHOPOINTS 6
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 9: Squeaky Bum Time.
DOCTOR WHO
"Cold Blood”
29/05/2010
BBC One
Whilst previous Who two-parters tended to start out well, or at least not totally crap (or in "The Time of Angels'" case just plain crap), they tend to then flop badly in the next episode. (Or get really crap in "Flesh & Stone".)
"Cold Blood", the second episode in Series 5's re-launch of the Silurians, bucks this trend by following a shit episode with an average episode. Yes, it's that impressive.
The good parts are, your intrepid (Wh)Ovine can report, surprisingly many. The character interactions are well written and performed, and the 'are we any better?' debate (wherein the viewer is asked to ponder whether humans are the worst monsters) is effectively handled too. Here both sides of the argument are put across, but the final word, care of the Doctor, leaves no doubt on the real message. Humanity has to learn to be a better species. Throw in some subtle digs at Malthusianism and racism and you have a surprisingly moral episode, for even if the present sees an opportunity wasted, a better future is predicted in a blatant no-tension-really sort of way.
Of course, there's a lot here that is a wasted opportunity. Silurian Elder Eldane (as played by Stephen 'Marvin The Android' Moore) is brought in clumsily and not enough is made of him. Likewise with last episode's vivisector Malokeh (Richard Hope), whose Miyazaki-style change of heart is a bit disjointed and his character wasted. Celeb guest star Meera Syal has very little to do that Amy Pond couldn't have done on her own, and while Neve McIntosh's warrior Silurian Alaya affects a Iago-worthy forked tongue and a rather scary death wish, her sister (also played by McIntosh) is simply a vengeance-crazed cardboard cut-out.
And no, it isn't a patch on 'Doctor Who & The Silurians'. Overall, it lacks consistency and is badly paced, even rushed. The subtleties of the original are 40 years' away from the sledgehammer approach of today and the introduction of Amy's Crack (fnarr!) is equally as heavy handed and blatant. It took six 30-minute episodes to tell a story that unfolded organically in 1970. 40 years later, it takes two hyperactive toddler episodes at 45 minutes each to just churn out a slapdash narrative. Let's hear it for progress.
Matt Smith does of course make some progress of his own in this one, beginning to ease into the role, even though he's still talking like Who X, and doesn't actually do very much again. Arthur Darvill's Rory remains hapless yet also displays a dignified and heroic side that's well performed. And while he snuffs it and then gets erased from history (as usual with Nu Who, it's the Doc's fault), you just know he's not gone for good - the character just works so well and has certainly earned his place on the TARDIS. Amy Pond/Karen Gillan? Eek. But she does show some depth FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER when her character loses Rory, then forgets him with equal poignance after he's been rubbed out. (It's that naughty Crack of hers again, I tell you.)
It could have been better, but avoided being worse. That's pretty good going by this series' standards.
WHOPOINTS 6
"Cold Blood", the second episode in Series 5's re-launch of the Silurians, bucks this trend by following a shit episode with an average episode. Yes, it's that impressive.
The good parts are, your intrepid (Wh)Ovine can report, surprisingly many. The character interactions are well written and performed, and the 'are we any better?' debate (wherein the viewer is asked to ponder whether humans are the worst monsters) is effectively handled too. Here both sides of the argument are put across, but the final word, care of the Doctor, leaves no doubt on the real message. Humanity has to learn to be a better species. Throw in some subtle digs at Malthusianism and racism and you have a surprisingly moral episode, for even if the present sees an opportunity wasted, a better future is predicted in a blatant no-tension-really sort of way.
Of course, there's a lot here that is a wasted opportunity. Silurian Elder Eldane (as played by Stephen 'Marvin The Android' Moore) is brought in clumsily and not enough is made of him. Likewise with last episode's vivisector Malokeh (Richard Hope), whose Miyazaki-style change of heart is a bit disjointed and his character wasted. Celeb guest star Meera Syal has very little to do that Amy Pond couldn't have done on her own, and while Neve McIntosh's warrior Silurian Alaya affects a Iago-worthy forked tongue and a rather scary death wish, her sister (also played by McIntosh) is simply a vengeance-crazed cardboard cut-out.
And no, it isn't a patch on 'Doctor Who & The Silurians'. Overall, it lacks consistency and is badly paced, even rushed. The subtleties of the original are 40 years' away from the sledgehammer approach of today and the introduction of Amy's Crack (fnarr!) is equally as heavy handed and blatant. It took six 30-minute episodes to tell a story that unfolded organically in 1970. 40 years later, it takes two hyperactive toddler episodes at 45 minutes each to just churn out a slapdash narrative. Let's hear it for progress.
Matt Smith does of course make some progress of his own in this one, beginning to ease into the role, even though he's still talking like Who X, and doesn't actually do very much again. Arthur Darvill's Rory remains hapless yet also displays a dignified and heroic side that's well performed. And while he snuffs it and then gets erased from history (as usual with Nu Who, it's the Doc's fault), you just know he's not gone for good - the character just works so well and has certainly earned his place on the TARDIS. Amy Pond/Karen Gillan? Eek. But she does show some depth FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER when her character loses Rory, then forgets him with equal poignance after he's been rubbed out. (It's that naughty Crack of hers again, I tell you.)
It could have been better, but avoided being worse. That's pretty good going by this series' standards.
WHOPOINTS 6
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 8: Hungry A**e.
DOCTOR WHO
‘The Hungry Earth”
22/05/2010
BBC One
"Doctor Who & The Silurians" is one of the classics of the old series, an epic Shakespearean tragedy where the real monster is not in the form of the Silurians themselves - ancient subterranean reptile men from Earth's past - but hubris, pride, stupidity, fear and bigotry, of which all sides, the Doctor and the Brigadier included, are guilty.
Forty years later, and the Silurian comeback "The Hungry Earth", part one of a two part serial, has quite a task on its hands to follow up on that one. So it doesn't bother. Instead it just reuses plot ideas from "...Silurians" and loads of other Old Who stories. Drilling into something awful? Inferno. A church and a forcefield? The Daemons. Welsh setting with loveable boyos in peril? The Green Death. The only way they could have made it any more derivative was if they caught Liz Shaw in the Tardis reversing the polarity with a giant maggot.
The ethical dilemma at the heart of "...Silurians", as to whether we are any better than them or perhaps worse, has meanwhile been buggered up. This time, to spare you the tedious details, it is hamfistedly executed, with the inevitable fuck-up that makes us all ashamed to be human slotted in for next week but telegraphed so loudly you can pretty much guess how it will turn out.
The characters are pretty cardboard too, with the Doctor and Rory scripted to operate as if on autopilot, right down to the already overused 'HOW COULD YOU NOT SAVE HIM/HER?' routine. Speaking of clichés, the episode also maintains the 'Doctor Is Christ/Doctor Is A Wanker' binary opposition, with no nuance or subtlety in-between. The Doctor we saw in "...Silurians" was a much more well realised Time Lord.
Amy Pond remains fucking annoying, as per usual, and the episode seems to toy with the viewer when it seems she's going to get dissected next week. (She won't of course.) But her growing lack of interest in what the Doctor does suggest some character development, if not all that much.
The worst character is the boy, whose Dad gets suctioned down into the bowels of the earth at the start of the episode. Now, please do not see that as a slur on the young actor playing him. It's just that there's something incredibly depressing about the underlying notion of a character whose only real purpose is to be precocious, then run off and get in trouble and, to top it all off, suffer from a disability-du-jour, which in this case is dyslexia. Britain, if you really want to help dyslexics, don't patronise them with token sufferers being bullshitted by Matt Smith. Actually invest in their education, stop discriminating against them and actually put some effort in assisting them in their day to day lives. But of course, this is a mainstream TV show made in Britain c. 2010 we're talking about here, so the feel-bad-but-in-reality-do-fuck-all consensus rules supreme.
Did I mention that the New Model Silurians are shite? They don't look like the old Silurians, and instead go for a generic reptilian humanoid look of the sort that Star Trek at its least imaginative might use. The makeup didn't look like a reptilian humanoid so much as an actress in reptilian makeup, which might sound obvious, but there is a clear difference between the two, in the same way that a bloke in a cheap made-in-China gorilla suit doesn't look like Chewbacca.
Throw in a plot full of holes and inconsistencies, and which often just marks time until the second episode's preamble is set up, and then mix firmly with infantile, flat characterisation. Voila! You have this episode. Fittingly, it was written by Christopher Chibnall, responsible for some of the worst Torchwood episodes ever (and that's saying something). Perhaps he took Stephen Moffat at his word and wrote the script for 11-year-olds, but that rather insults 11-year-olds, doesn't it? Last week's episode, 'Amy's Choice', was indeed a fluke, because we are back to Business As Usual: Poor scripts and shallow narratives, produced and performed in a slapdash and inconsequential way.
WHOPOINTS 4
‘The Hungry Earth”
22/05/2010
BBC One
"Doctor Who & The Silurians" is one of the classics of the old series, an epic Shakespearean tragedy where the real monster is not in the form of the Silurians themselves - ancient subterranean reptile men from Earth's past - but hubris, pride, stupidity, fear and bigotry, of which all sides, the Doctor and the Brigadier included, are guilty.
Forty years later, and the Silurian comeback "The Hungry Earth", part one of a two part serial, has quite a task on its hands to follow up on that one. So it doesn't bother. Instead it just reuses plot ideas from "...Silurians" and loads of other Old Who stories. Drilling into something awful? Inferno. A church and a forcefield? The Daemons. Welsh setting with loveable boyos in peril? The Green Death. The only way they could have made it any more derivative was if they caught Liz Shaw in the Tardis reversing the polarity with a giant maggot.
The ethical dilemma at the heart of "...Silurians", as to whether we are any better than them or perhaps worse, has meanwhile been buggered up. This time, to spare you the tedious details, it is hamfistedly executed, with the inevitable fuck-up that makes us all ashamed to be human slotted in for next week but telegraphed so loudly you can pretty much guess how it will turn out.
The characters are pretty cardboard too, with the Doctor and Rory scripted to operate as if on autopilot, right down to the already overused 'HOW COULD YOU NOT SAVE HIM/HER?' routine. Speaking of clichés, the episode also maintains the 'Doctor Is Christ/Doctor Is A Wanker' binary opposition, with no nuance or subtlety in-between. The Doctor we saw in "...Silurians" was a much more well realised Time Lord.
Amy Pond remains fucking annoying, as per usual, and the episode seems to toy with the viewer when it seems she's going to get dissected next week. (She won't of course.) But her growing lack of interest in what the Doctor does suggest some character development, if not all that much.
The worst character is the boy, whose Dad gets suctioned down into the bowels of the earth at the start of the episode. Now, please do not see that as a slur on the young actor playing him. It's just that there's something incredibly depressing about the underlying notion of a character whose only real purpose is to be precocious, then run off and get in trouble and, to top it all off, suffer from a disability-du-jour, which in this case is dyslexia. Britain, if you really want to help dyslexics, don't patronise them with token sufferers being bullshitted by Matt Smith. Actually invest in their education, stop discriminating against them and actually put some effort in assisting them in their day to day lives. But of course, this is a mainstream TV show made in Britain c. 2010 we're talking about here, so the feel-bad-but-in-reality-do-fuck-all consensus rules supreme.
Did I mention that the New Model Silurians are shite? They don't look like the old Silurians, and instead go for a generic reptilian humanoid look of the sort that Star Trek at its least imaginative might use. The makeup didn't look like a reptilian humanoid so much as an actress in reptilian makeup, which might sound obvious, but there is a clear difference between the two, in the same way that a bloke in a cheap made-in-China gorilla suit doesn't look like Chewbacca.
Throw in a plot full of holes and inconsistencies, and which often just marks time until the second episode's preamble is set up, and then mix firmly with infantile, flat characterisation. Voila! You have this episode. Fittingly, it was written by Christopher Chibnall, responsible for some of the worst Torchwood episodes ever (and that's saying something). Perhaps he took Stephen Moffat at his word and wrote the script for 11-year-olds, but that rather insults 11-year-olds, doesn't it? Last week's episode, 'Amy's Choice', was indeed a fluke, because we are back to Business As Usual: Poor scripts and shallow narratives, produced and performed in a slapdash and inconsequential way.
WHOPOINTS 4
Saturday, 15 May 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 7: Dreaming of the Valeyard.
DOCTOR WHO
‘Amy's Choice’
15/05/2010
BBC One
In the words of the Doctor's future wife, SPOILERS!!!
Now, with that formality out of the way, let's dwell on the first truly great episode of this series. 'Amy's Choice' is simply far more mature, believable and nuanced than any of the episodes that have gone before it, and probably every episode that will follow. The dialogue is excellent and the script is competent and well thought out. The story line is compelling and the pacing is wonderful. What more could you ask for? Well, maybe a plot that’s not akin to The Mind Robber, but you can’t have it all one supposes – nigh-on fifty-years worth of Who will led to some repetition after all.
The plot, for those who want it over and done with, is this: Via some psychic contamination, the Doctor's hate, guilt, self-loathing and sadism manifests itself as the 'Dream Lord' who puts the Doc, Rory and Amy through a literal nightmare (or three), forcing them to make some serious choices...
...This is ingenious simply because it allows the characters to either develop or reveal hitherto hidden depths. Amy learns she really loves Rory, while Rory proves how much he loves the deranged ginger tart in turn. The Doctor meanwhile is revealed as both solution, villain and matchmaker, using the experience to lead Amy away from him and choose Rory. In fact, it could be read as the Doctor using the experience all along to teach Amy that lesson, that one day the Doctor will have to leave her, and Rory is what she really wants. Rory meanwhile leaves behind his ideal, sterile 'reality' for the imperfect but more human and genuine reality that awaits him. He learns that having a house, a child on the way and a job as a country doctor isn't enough - he needs the truth more, his self-indulgent ponytail cut off as a gesture of adulthood.
This is of course probably the most brutal episode in years. There's at least two suicides, killer aliens hiding in the bodies of old people murdering children and postmen in equal measure, betrayal and barely repressed bitterness, a pregnancy that never comes to be, bereavement, major existential crises and the Doctor finally becoming what the new series has always seemed to want him to be: a villain, a monster and a dire foe.
This does of course fit in with one of Nu Who's worst traits, its deranged obsession with diminishing the Doctor and making him look like a total wanker. (Sort of a Reverse Spike, for all the Buffy fans that Nu Who in part is rather keen to woo.) This is so 1980s, when you think about it, but 'somewho' it all seems rather lame, an adolescent iconoclasm in an age where po-mo is dead and we really do need to pick sides again.
But that's the only quibble. This same conceit is inspired in many other ways - the 'Dream Lord', played with tangible malice and cruelty by Toby Jones, is both the conscience and the Greek chorus of the story, haunting the Doctor up to and including the last frame. You may care to watch the episode twice to see all the clues that reveal who he really is. It also puts the Doctor in a new light, no longer falling in love with his assistant but trying to save her from that fate and do the 'right thing'. (Everyone chooses to in this one, which may or may not be redemption, or simply a delay of the inevitable.) And yet, it is probably not the last time we will see the Dream Lord: He echoes the Doctor's future evil regeneration, the Valeyard (from the Colin Baker era, for all the completists out there), and may be seen as his warm-up. It isn't too much like Fight Club - just in case you're wondering.
So maybe they should just give in, stop trying to make the Doctor a hero and just make him a monster for a series or two, or at least make him amoral again, like William Hartnell's Doctor. But that might blow the gaff - after all, he's still meant to be at least officially a 'hero', albeit one that has shit hurled at him non-stop, and yet this episode suggests there's much to be explored if they actually had the balls to take it as far as it can go. They won't of course, but 'Amy's Choice' shows how it could be.
Matt Smith is also getting better, slowly but surely moulding his Doctor into something that's not entirely Tennant, but with much work left to do. Arthur Darvill's slightly beleaguered Rory really shines this time, his journey every bit as taught and troubled as the Doctor, whilst the non-stop low-level love/hate between the two is wonderful. Shockingly, Amy Pond (or Karen Gillan as her parents call her) is bearable here too, mainly because the script reins in her worst traits and forces her to evolve as a character too. 'So what is the point of you then?' she spits, as the Doctor reveals to her what we all know but which she was too immature to accept: the Doctor can't always save the day, and only a child can't agree with that fact. A child like Amy.
And yet the story is ultimately about love. Rory and Amy realise how much they love each other, and the Doctor reveals how much he loves them both too. But it's not a romantic love, but the kinf that is necessary if sometimes monstrous, leering back at the Doctor on the reflective surface of his Tardis console, not gone but simply waiting.
WHOPOINTS 8.5
‘Amy's Choice’
15/05/2010
BBC One
In the words of the Doctor's future wife, SPOILERS!!!
Now, with that formality out of the way, let's dwell on the first truly great episode of this series. 'Amy's Choice' is simply far more mature, believable and nuanced than any of the episodes that have gone before it, and probably every episode that will follow. The dialogue is excellent and the script is competent and well thought out. The story line is compelling and the pacing is wonderful. What more could you ask for? Well, maybe a plot that’s not akin to The Mind Robber, but you can’t have it all one supposes – nigh-on fifty-years worth of Who will led to some repetition after all.
The plot, for those who want it over and done with, is this: Via some psychic contamination, the Doctor's hate, guilt, self-loathing and sadism manifests itself as the 'Dream Lord' who puts the Doc, Rory and Amy through a literal nightmare (or three), forcing them to make some serious choices...
...This is ingenious simply because it allows the characters to either develop or reveal hitherto hidden depths. Amy learns she really loves Rory, while Rory proves how much he loves the deranged ginger tart in turn. The Doctor meanwhile is revealed as both solution, villain and matchmaker, using the experience to lead Amy away from him and choose Rory. In fact, it could be read as the Doctor using the experience all along to teach Amy that lesson, that one day the Doctor will have to leave her, and Rory is what she really wants. Rory meanwhile leaves behind his ideal, sterile 'reality' for the imperfect but more human and genuine reality that awaits him. He learns that having a house, a child on the way and a job as a country doctor isn't enough - he needs the truth more, his self-indulgent ponytail cut off as a gesture of adulthood.
This is of course probably the most brutal episode in years. There's at least two suicides, killer aliens hiding in the bodies of old people murdering children and postmen in equal measure, betrayal and barely repressed bitterness, a pregnancy that never comes to be, bereavement, major existential crises and the Doctor finally becoming what the new series has always seemed to want him to be: a villain, a monster and a dire foe.
This does of course fit in with one of Nu Who's worst traits, its deranged obsession with diminishing the Doctor and making him look like a total wanker. (Sort of a Reverse Spike, for all the Buffy fans that Nu Who in part is rather keen to woo.) This is so 1980s, when you think about it, but 'somewho' it all seems rather lame, an adolescent iconoclasm in an age where po-mo is dead and we really do need to pick sides again.
But that's the only quibble. This same conceit is inspired in many other ways - the 'Dream Lord', played with tangible malice and cruelty by Toby Jones, is both the conscience and the Greek chorus of the story, haunting the Doctor up to and including the last frame. You may care to watch the episode twice to see all the clues that reveal who he really is. It also puts the Doctor in a new light, no longer falling in love with his assistant but trying to save her from that fate and do the 'right thing'. (Everyone chooses to in this one, which may or may not be redemption, or simply a delay of the inevitable.) And yet, it is probably not the last time we will see the Dream Lord: He echoes the Doctor's future evil regeneration, the Valeyard (from the Colin Baker era, for all the completists out there), and may be seen as his warm-up. It isn't too much like Fight Club - just in case you're wondering.
So maybe they should just give in, stop trying to make the Doctor a hero and just make him a monster for a series or two, or at least make him amoral again, like William Hartnell's Doctor. But that might blow the gaff - after all, he's still meant to be at least officially a 'hero', albeit one that has shit hurled at him non-stop, and yet this episode suggests there's much to be explored if they actually had the balls to take it as far as it can go. They won't of course, but 'Amy's Choice' shows how it could be.
Matt Smith is also getting better, slowly but surely moulding his Doctor into something that's not entirely Tennant, but with much work left to do. Arthur Darvill's slightly beleaguered Rory really shines this time, his journey every bit as taught and troubled as the Doctor, whilst the non-stop low-level love/hate between the two is wonderful. Shockingly, Amy Pond (or Karen Gillan as her parents call her) is bearable here too, mainly because the script reins in her worst traits and forces her to evolve as a character too. 'So what is the point of you then?' she spits, as the Doctor reveals to her what we all know but which she was too immature to accept: the Doctor can't always save the day, and only a child can't agree with that fact. A child like Amy.
And yet the story is ultimately about love. Rory and Amy realise how much they love each other, and the Doctor reveals how much he loves them both too. But it's not a romantic love, but the kinf that is necessary if sometimes monstrous, leering back at the Doctor on the reflective surface of his Tardis console, not gone but simply waiting.
WHOPOINTS 8.5
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 6: Venetian Vampires Without Bite.
DOCTOR WHO
‘Vampires In Venice’
08/05/2010
BBC One
One truth often overlooked about Doctor Who is that the men are better than the women. No, that's not sexism. What I mean is that the male companions always seem more interesting and fleshed out than most of the female companions as a rule, the only exceptions being Liz (Who III), Leela & Romana (Who IV) and Ace (Who VII) who instead were women who were trying or were able to be part of what was still a men's world, and so had much more going on under the surface.
But the male companions still stand out, because the dynamic was different. With female companions, it was often a fatherly relationship with the Doctor, as opposed to today's non-stop Electra Complex love affairs. But with the men, it was often more complicated and dynamic, the glorious spectacle of two or more difficult blokes travelling through time and space and getting on each other's tits.
Top of the pile has to be Jamie, whose relationship with Who II swung from father-and-son to pissed off married couple to squabbling children, often all in the same scene. Or the Brigadier, whose relationship with the Doc was that of a brother who'd lay his life down for the other and vice versa. Of course it was also the sort of brotherly relationship where they just couldn't fucking stand each other, the frustrated spite of the Doctor and the barely suppressed hurt of the Brig masterfully played out by Pertwee, Baker and Courtney. Or poor put-upon Sergeant Benton, who took all the flak from those angry posh gits with a very British stoicism. The star turn that was Harry Reid. Or the looming Shakespearean Tragedy that was Adric. Going back to the Hartnell days, there was Ian, serving as the angry conscience for what was then an essentially amoral Doctor, and Steven, through which the show began to properly explore the implications and ironies of the Doctor in a way today's angstfests can't even begin to ape.
Even latter day male Who companions are more interesting than the Roses and the Amys. Poor old Mickey, shafted by his woman and overshadowed by a transdimensional prima donna, his reconciliation with the latter coming at the cost of the former who had long since cast him aside. Or Captain Jack, who might have been a poster boy for shagging everything that moves and which can consent, but was still told off and bossed around by the Doctor like a father, for all Jack's romantic overtures. Or Who X's last companion, Wilf, who had the deepest and most intense bonds with the Doc, despite the brief time they spent together.
This brings us neatly onto Rory, whose masculinity is as stiff as lettuce and whose macho credentials are less pronounced than his nursing degree. He's also Amy Pond's great unintended, even forced to dress up as her 'Raggedy Doctor' as the love of his life went ever more loopy. As mentioned in my interview of "The Eleventh Hour", Arthur Darvill brings a real wounded pathos to his poor sod character, right down to the timid, vulnerable body language. And in 'Vampires of Venice', last night's episode, we finally get to see him in action, so to speak.
In this one, the Doc - still reeling after Amy tried to have her wicked way with him on the night before her wedding - decides that only a romantic weekend in 16th Century Venice with Rory will save their marriage before it's even started. Of course, shit magnet that he (or the TARDIS) is, the Doctor beams them in to the middle of an infestation of vampires, or rather, Saturnynians: Blood-drinking fish monsters with mind-camouflage. I'm not making this shit up, you know.
So it's a bit of a shame that this episode was plainly written by Toby 'Being Human' Whithouse for Who X, Rose and Mickey, then dusted off and rewritten for this series. Apart from all the Tennantisms, Amy says and does a lot of Rose Tyler things (i.e., be a brave, gormless arsehole) and Rory is left doing what Mickey would have otherwise done (i.e., mope around a lot and shout at the Doctor.)
Meanwhile, the way Doc XI and Amy Pond jump up and down with joy or look excited whenever something bad happens is actually an old trope from the Doc X/Rose days, where they treated it all like a big laugh despite all the bloodletting. This was how the RTD era tried to justify punishing them for having too good a time (yes, he said this), which is a bit odd when you consider that they came across less as ghouls and more like how the audience itself was feeling. RTD himself seemed to hate the Doctor and delighted in making him miserable, which of course just kept getting in the way of the storytelling.
But when Matt Smith and Karen Gillan do it, the effect is more like two actors trying to play someone else, namely David Tennant and Billy Piper. Or perhaps two happy but delusional mental patients living in a shared dreamworld with Rory the nurse taking them out for a supervised trip to a museum. NOW THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PLOT TWIST
Poor old Rory, meanwhile, is reduced to saying Mickey's words, right down to the crybaby denunciation of the Doctor being a threat to everyone he knows, which is a bit like accusing the Fire Brigade of endangering lives every time it leaps into a burning building, or a surgeon being accused of being a potential mass-murderer because he works in a Casualty/ER ward. Isn't it the aliens and assorted baddies who were the killers and threats here, or did that get in the way of all the lazy RTD-era revisionism?
Things do get better as the episode develops though, not least because Whithouse's re-jigged script lets the team dynamic evolve away from its roots. Amy morphs from Who groupie to would-be menage a trois participant, the animus between Rory and the Doc giving way to an understated warmth and a very traditional love-hate relationship. Rory could be another classic male companion in the making here, if it wasn’t for the sinking feeling that they’re going to bugger it up like they always do.
Amy remains awful as usual, annoying and stupid in equal measure, and whereas last episode, you were rooting for the angels, now you're rooting for the vamps, who again fail miserably and let her live. On the other hand, it's not hard to cheer when the Doctor finally gives her a patriarchal bitch-slapping and tells her to fuck off back to the TARDIS. Not that she listens, of course. Oh nooooooo...
The story itself is rather bland. 'Venice', or rather Trogir in Croatia where this episode is filmed, is shot in a lifeless and sterile way, more a film set than a convincing setting, whilst the baddies' fortress is far too well-lit and tidy to bestow any real menace. In the end, it's all so clean and barren that you don't actually care what happens. There is no humanity here, beyond the three leads.
The vampire-fish are a wasted opportunity too. Less Lovecraftian Deep Ones and more crap CGI newts, their menace is badly handled and their human forms seem more like really bad Hammer depictions than the Gothic Horrors they should be. The faintly oedipal relationship between the Saturnynian Queen and her son is bodged too, neither character having much depth. And while the Queen's justifications for her plot to sink Venice below the waves are aimed at giving her a motivation, they only really make her sound like a delusional relativist loon.
Throw in a sub-plot with an expendable Venetian father and his equally expendable daughter (both of whom have even less personality than the Saturnynes), even more plot holes and ideas that are shamelessly and hamfistedly reused from other episodes and you have a bit of a disappointment. It's doubly disappointing coming from Toby Whithouse, who I - as a Being Human obsessive - can honestly say knows how to write when he can be arsed to. (Three words: REAL HUSTLE and HERRICK.)
Perhaps he needs a whole series to play with instead of just one episode? Whithouse does seem to do best when he has lots of episodes to play with, and fittingly it's the ongoing relationship between the Doc, Amy and Rory that's got the most life in it. In that sense it parallels Being Human - both are about two messed up, haunted men and one crazed woman, though Annie the Ghost is more 'needy' and Amy the Scots Racist is more 'hungry', so to speak.
Yet it works for the same reasons, the human drama giving some meaning that the SFX and expensive location doesn't. And who could dare slag off the glorious opening scene, where the Doctor emerges from a cake in place of a diabetic stripper and proceeds to bugger up Rory's stag night beyond all recognition? It's better to think what this episode could have been, then, than what it actually amounted to.
WHOPOINTS 6
‘Vampires In Venice’
08/05/2010
BBC One
One truth often overlooked about Doctor Who is that the men are better than the women. No, that's not sexism. What I mean is that the male companions always seem more interesting and fleshed out than most of the female companions as a rule, the only exceptions being Liz (Who III), Leela & Romana (Who IV) and Ace (Who VII) who instead were women who were trying or were able to be part of what was still a men's world, and so had much more going on under the surface.
But the male companions still stand out, because the dynamic was different. With female companions, it was often a fatherly relationship with the Doctor, as opposed to today's non-stop Electra Complex love affairs. But with the men, it was often more complicated and dynamic, the glorious spectacle of two or more difficult blokes travelling through time and space and getting on each other's tits.
Top of the pile has to be Jamie, whose relationship with Who II swung from father-and-son to pissed off married couple to squabbling children, often all in the same scene. Or the Brigadier, whose relationship with the Doc was that of a brother who'd lay his life down for the other and vice versa. Of course it was also the sort of brotherly relationship where they just couldn't fucking stand each other, the frustrated spite of the Doctor and the barely suppressed hurt of the Brig masterfully played out by Pertwee, Baker and Courtney. Or poor put-upon Sergeant Benton, who took all the flak from those angry posh gits with a very British stoicism. The star turn that was Harry Reid. Or the looming Shakespearean Tragedy that was Adric. Going back to the Hartnell days, there was Ian, serving as the angry conscience for what was then an essentially amoral Doctor, and Steven, through which the show began to properly explore the implications and ironies of the Doctor in a way today's angstfests can't even begin to ape.
Even latter day male Who companions are more interesting than the Roses and the Amys. Poor old Mickey, shafted by his woman and overshadowed by a transdimensional prima donna, his reconciliation with the latter coming at the cost of the former who had long since cast him aside. Or Captain Jack, who might have been a poster boy for shagging everything that moves and which can consent, but was still told off and bossed around by the Doctor like a father, for all Jack's romantic overtures. Or Who X's last companion, Wilf, who had the deepest and most intense bonds with the Doc, despite the brief time they spent together.
This brings us neatly onto Rory, whose masculinity is as stiff as lettuce and whose macho credentials are less pronounced than his nursing degree. He's also Amy Pond's great unintended, even forced to dress up as her 'Raggedy Doctor' as the love of his life went ever more loopy. As mentioned in my interview of "The Eleventh Hour", Arthur Darvill brings a real wounded pathos to his poor sod character, right down to the timid, vulnerable body language. And in 'Vampires of Venice', last night's episode, we finally get to see him in action, so to speak.
In this one, the Doc - still reeling after Amy tried to have her wicked way with him on the night before her wedding - decides that only a romantic weekend in 16th Century Venice with Rory will save their marriage before it's even started. Of course, shit magnet that he (or the TARDIS) is, the Doctor beams them in to the middle of an infestation of vampires, or rather, Saturnynians: Blood-drinking fish monsters with mind-camouflage. I'm not making this shit up, you know.
So it's a bit of a shame that this episode was plainly written by Toby 'Being Human' Whithouse for Who X, Rose and Mickey, then dusted off and rewritten for this series. Apart from all the Tennantisms, Amy says and does a lot of Rose Tyler things (i.e., be a brave, gormless arsehole) and Rory is left doing what Mickey would have otherwise done (i.e., mope around a lot and shout at the Doctor.)
Meanwhile, the way Doc XI and Amy Pond jump up and down with joy or look excited whenever something bad happens is actually an old trope from the Doc X/Rose days, where they treated it all like a big laugh despite all the bloodletting. This was how the RTD era tried to justify punishing them for having too good a time (yes, he said this), which is a bit odd when you consider that they came across less as ghouls and more like how the audience itself was feeling. RTD himself seemed to hate the Doctor and delighted in making him miserable, which of course just kept getting in the way of the storytelling.
But when Matt Smith and Karen Gillan do it, the effect is more like two actors trying to play someone else, namely David Tennant and Billy Piper. Or perhaps two happy but delusional mental patients living in a shared dreamworld with Rory the nurse taking them out for a supervised trip to a museum. NOW THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PLOT TWIST
Poor old Rory, meanwhile, is reduced to saying Mickey's words, right down to the crybaby denunciation of the Doctor being a threat to everyone he knows, which is a bit like accusing the Fire Brigade of endangering lives every time it leaps into a burning building, or a surgeon being accused of being a potential mass-murderer because he works in a Casualty/ER ward. Isn't it the aliens and assorted baddies who were the killers and threats here, or did that get in the way of all the lazy RTD-era revisionism?
Things do get better as the episode develops though, not least because Whithouse's re-jigged script lets the team dynamic evolve away from its roots. Amy morphs from Who groupie to would-be menage a trois participant, the animus between Rory and the Doc giving way to an understated warmth and a very traditional love-hate relationship. Rory could be another classic male companion in the making here, if it wasn’t for the sinking feeling that they’re going to bugger it up like they always do.
Amy remains awful as usual, annoying and stupid in equal measure, and whereas last episode, you were rooting for the angels, now you're rooting for the vamps, who again fail miserably and let her live. On the other hand, it's not hard to cheer when the Doctor finally gives her a patriarchal bitch-slapping and tells her to fuck off back to the TARDIS. Not that she listens, of course. Oh nooooooo...
The story itself is rather bland. 'Venice', or rather Trogir in Croatia where this episode is filmed, is shot in a lifeless and sterile way, more a film set than a convincing setting, whilst the baddies' fortress is far too well-lit and tidy to bestow any real menace. In the end, it's all so clean and barren that you don't actually care what happens. There is no humanity here, beyond the three leads.
The vampire-fish are a wasted opportunity too. Less Lovecraftian Deep Ones and more crap CGI newts, their menace is badly handled and their human forms seem more like really bad Hammer depictions than the Gothic Horrors they should be. The faintly oedipal relationship between the Saturnynian Queen and her son is bodged too, neither character having much depth. And while the Queen's justifications for her plot to sink Venice below the waves are aimed at giving her a motivation, they only really make her sound like a delusional relativist loon.
Throw in a sub-plot with an expendable Venetian father and his equally expendable daughter (both of whom have even less personality than the Saturnynes), even more plot holes and ideas that are shamelessly and hamfistedly reused from other episodes and you have a bit of a disappointment. It's doubly disappointing coming from Toby Whithouse, who I - as a Being Human obsessive - can honestly say knows how to write when he can be arsed to. (Three words: REAL HUSTLE and HERRICK.)
Perhaps he needs a whole series to play with instead of just one episode? Whithouse does seem to do best when he has lots of episodes to play with, and fittingly it's the ongoing relationship between the Doc, Amy and Rory that's got the most life in it. In that sense it parallels Being Human - both are about two messed up, haunted men and one crazed woman, though Annie the Ghost is more 'needy' and Amy the Scots Racist is more 'hungry', so to speak.
Yet it works for the same reasons, the human drama giving some meaning that the SFX and expensive location doesn't. And who could dare slag off the glorious opening scene, where the Doctor emerges from a cake in place of a diabetic stripper and proceeds to bugger up Rory's stag night beyond all recognition? It's better to think what this episode could have been, then, than what it actually amounted to.
WHOPOINTS 6
Saturday, 1 May 2010
Doctor Who, Series 5, Episode 5: Stone Angels Come To Bad End.
DOCTOR WHO
'The Time of Angels'
01/05/2010
BBC One
So, the last time we were here, the Doc, his future wife, his awful assistant and a fair few expendable church squaddies were going to get croaked by weeping angels... But then the Doctor did something crap and out of character (as in, use a gun). One Deus et Machina later and we find ourselves at Part Two, "Flesh and Bone"...
But first the opening titles, where - through the miracle of really bad CGI - the TARDIS churns through the time vortex. It really does look like a large blue turd flowing down the alimentary canal of an enormous suck-beast. The music's cack too.
As for the episode itself, it's more filler than thriller. It ties up of loose ends and preludes for the rest of this series' big story arc, with little thought given to the story beyond some new Moffat gimmicks, like pissing about with gravity or cyborg trees or oblivion through time-crack.
As for the cast, it is not a pretty sight. Riversong is less of a character here and more someone for the Doctor to shout at. Though at least Alex Kingston does her best with expressions and gestures where the decent dialogue is not forthcoming. The big revelation about her is - you guessed it - yet more build-up for the 'season finale' (Joss Whedon: you are a cock) and for the most part, she's underused and squandered.
The Doctor, or Matt Smith, is still regenerating, in the sense that he and the audience and indeed the scriptwriter haven't worked out if he's David Tennant, a new Doctor altogether or something that's getting bodged until they finally work out what to do with Who XI. Sometimes he thrashes about and yet shows signs of becoming of his own man or time lord or whatever. Other times, he just looks burdened, though the way he flirts with his future bride in a sort of sleazy but naff fashion suggests a dash of comic ability that echoes Troughton/Who II.
Meanwhile, Amy Pond still needs a slap. She is obnoxious, stupid, argumentative and unsympathetic to the point that you're rooting for Team Angel pretty much from the start. The character is fundamentally unlike-able, which is quite a departure from the traditional DW formula of companions who, you know, the audience is supposed to like. We also discover she's a potential Time Lord rapist who's willing to cheat on her man the night before their wedding. What a shit. But moreover, what an awful supporting character, seeing that she is so utterly unsympathetic.
As for the 'clerics' (which, if you don't remember, are the 51st Century church gone militant), their role is simply to die or otherwise get rubbed out. At least you mourned the marines in Aliens, of which this two-parter is ever so slightly indebted to, because there was something to mourn in the first place. But when the clerics' only differentiating trait is that they have funny ecclesiastical names, it seems shoddy writing is to blame.
The only cleric with a personality is Father Octavian. But it's a sort of passive aggressive sulk concluded with a highly improbable reconciliation between he and the Doctor just before Octavian gets his neck snapped by an angel. No disrespect here for Iain Glen, who does as well as most seasoned actors could with such shit characterisation and script. The blame falls squarely on the Moff's shoulders, an inadvertent tribute to those Old Who episodes where the Brigadier was portrayed as a total wanker and Nicholas Courtney just had to swallow it like his own vomit. In that sense, like the Father, Glen can sleep well in his bed at night: he was only following orders.
The episode overall, then, is a whimper. Even the main 'standout sequence' where a shut-eyed Amy has to navigate a forest full of angels is a wasted opportunity – it ends abruptly and has no real purpose. Perhaps Lawrence Miles is right after all - Nu Who is just a juxtaposition of set piece events linked by a lame script. But still - surely they wouldn't be so cynical about it? Well, actually they would, but at least some of the Old Who magic is there: note how one wall bends as the Doc leans on it? Yes, we're back in the era of wobbly sets! Rejoice!
WHOPOINTS 4
'The Time of Angels'
01/05/2010
BBC One
So, the last time we were here, the Doc, his future wife, his awful assistant and a fair few expendable church squaddies were going to get croaked by weeping angels... But then the Doctor did something crap and out of character (as in, use a gun). One Deus et Machina later and we find ourselves at Part Two, "Flesh and Bone"...
But first the opening titles, where - through the miracle of really bad CGI - the TARDIS churns through the time vortex. It really does look like a large blue turd flowing down the alimentary canal of an enormous suck-beast. The music's cack too.
As for the episode itself, it's more filler than thriller. It ties up of loose ends and preludes for the rest of this series' big story arc, with little thought given to the story beyond some new Moffat gimmicks, like pissing about with gravity or cyborg trees or oblivion through time-crack.
As for the cast, it is not a pretty sight. Riversong is less of a character here and more someone for the Doctor to shout at. Though at least Alex Kingston does her best with expressions and gestures where the decent dialogue is not forthcoming. The big revelation about her is - you guessed it - yet more build-up for the 'season finale' (Joss Whedon: you are a cock) and for the most part, she's underused and squandered.
The Doctor, or Matt Smith, is still regenerating, in the sense that he and the audience and indeed the scriptwriter haven't worked out if he's David Tennant, a new Doctor altogether or something that's getting bodged until they finally work out what to do with Who XI. Sometimes he thrashes about and yet shows signs of becoming of his own man or time lord or whatever. Other times, he just looks burdened, though the way he flirts with his future bride in a sort of sleazy but naff fashion suggests a dash of comic ability that echoes Troughton/Who II.
Meanwhile, Amy Pond still needs a slap. She is obnoxious, stupid, argumentative and unsympathetic to the point that you're rooting for Team Angel pretty much from the start. The character is fundamentally unlike-able, which is quite a departure from the traditional DW formula of companions who, you know, the audience is supposed to like. We also discover she's a potential Time Lord rapist who's willing to cheat on her man the night before their wedding. What a shit. But moreover, what an awful supporting character, seeing that she is so utterly unsympathetic.
As for the 'clerics' (which, if you don't remember, are the 51st Century church gone militant), their role is simply to die or otherwise get rubbed out. At least you mourned the marines in Aliens, of which this two-parter is ever so slightly indebted to, because there was something to mourn in the first place. But when the clerics' only differentiating trait is that they have funny ecclesiastical names, it seems shoddy writing is to blame.
The only cleric with a personality is Father Octavian. But it's a sort of passive aggressive sulk concluded with a highly improbable reconciliation between he and the Doctor just before Octavian gets his neck snapped by an angel. No disrespect here for Iain Glen, who does as well as most seasoned actors could with such shit characterisation and script. The blame falls squarely on the Moff's shoulders, an inadvertent tribute to those Old Who episodes where the Brigadier was portrayed as a total wanker and Nicholas Courtney just had to swallow it like his own vomit. In that sense, like the Father, Glen can sleep well in his bed at night: he was only following orders.
The episode overall, then, is a whimper. Even the main 'standout sequence' where a shut-eyed Amy has to navigate a forest full of angels is a wasted opportunity – it ends abruptly and has no real purpose. Perhaps Lawrence Miles is right after all - Nu Who is just a juxtaposition of set piece events linked by a lame script. But still - surely they wouldn't be so cynical about it? Well, actually they would, but at least some of the Old Who magic is there: note how one wall bends as the Doc leans on it? Yes, we're back in the era of wobbly sets! Rejoice!
WHOPOINTS 4
Wednesday, 28 April 2010
In the Brown Stuff - Part Deux.
You may have heard that Gordon Brown didn’t turn his mic off. What happened next and the response to it is, however, the real story.
After all, and whether you agree with Brown said or not, was this not a private conversation? All politicians have them and no doubt say all sorts of things the public would be shocked to hear, and yet we all can reasonably assume that things like this are said all the time. And what about the things we all say in private that are all too different from what we say in polite society? Double standards, anyone? Or is Brown's real crime that he got caught?
And while some may say that different rules should apply to politicians, this seems quite self-serving. One moment, we want our politicians to be like us, and the next minute we want them to be inhumanly perfect. We can't have both. Perhaps we need to stop seeing politics as a calling or a means to the Promised Land, or an epic battle between good 'n evil, but merely as a job full of conflicted, compromised, weak and silly people like us. And in a similar vein, so should politicians themselves.
But the real hypocrisy lies in the response to what Brown said. We demand candour and openness from our politicians and even avoid the ballot box because 'they're all as bad as each other'. Well, actually, they're not and such immoral and lazy thinking is the root cause of our political malaise, along with a dysfunctional relationship with politics itself. Do we really know what we want our MPs to do? It seems to change day by day.
And as ever, it is the voters who are the main villains here. If Gillian Duffy can say what she wants, then so should Brown. Yet we refuse to hear honest opinions if they clash with our preconceptions. This will have dire consequences. On the one hand, it has lead to spin, dishonesty, doublespeak and secrecy on the part of those who need our votes, which has lead in turn to corruption, embezzlement and indeed £1645 duck houses. We have to take a fair share of the blame for this.
But it is even more harmful than that. Whoever gets in next week will have to make cuts. Very big cuts. And so, a lot of enemies. Yet where is the honest debate? Where are the figures? The discussion? The bare facts? You won't get them because no sane politician is going to tell the truth to the public. We would rip them apart because they dared rouse us from our La-La-World retreat from reality. We all know it will come to pass but we're too spineless and stupid to face up to it. We then get the leaders we deserve.
I hate Brown, but I hate humbug and the 'have-cake-and-eat-it' mentality of the British body politic even more. Isn't it sad that Brown is done down, in the end, not for lies but for an honest opinion? And as I have said before, this story has only made the news because we have collectively decided he is a loser again. Never mind why Brown or Clegg or Cameron should be PM – why would anyone want to run a country with such a blind and pig-foul electorate in the first place?
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Doctor Who, Series V, Episode IV: Stone Cold Tedium.
DOCTOR WHO
'The Time of Angels'
24/04/2010
BBC One
The day will come when ‘Whostorians" will note the weird parallels between Nu Who and New Labour. Both re-launched what were seen as naff, worn-out franchises, both to great success but at the cost of their original values. Both also saw a single figure raised to almost idolatrous heights – be it Tony Blair or Russell T. Davies – who then plummeted to earth when ego and hubris brought spectacular nemesis.
The pub bores will no doubt swill many a pint over David Tennant too. Charismatic, young and the object of almost hysterical devotion, he – like Blair – jumped before an over-rated Scotsman finally took over and ran everything into the ground. True, one can stretch the idea too far: unlike Blair, Tennant is still loved, and certainly deserves some if not all of that adulation. And it was RTD who wrote ‘Torchwood: Children of Earth’, as scathing a satire of the New Labour years as you could hope for.
But still, the parallels are… eerie. Not least because Peter Capaldi keeps turning up both in the Whoniverse and as a thinly veiled Alastair Campbell. Or how 70s feminista Sarah Jane Smith was reborn as a sort of Blair Babe, a mumsy authority figure who sacrificed a family life for a career and an unrequited love for a distant, Christ-like figure.
Even the rise and rise of Who producers BBC Cymru echoes the ascent of a more confident, more assertive post-devolution Wales. Meanwhile, the growing clamour of criticism for Stephen Moffat’s tenure as ‘Show Runner’ echoes the slow rot and decay of the post-1997 political settlement under Gordon Brown. Moffat also shows another Brownish trait. He simply can’t stop living off past glories, whether they be an end to Tory Boom ‘n Bust, ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’, pouring tons of money into public services, ‘The Empty Child’, throwing Nokias at people or ‘Blink’.
For what was last Saturday’s episode, "The Time of Angels", but a trawl through an ever-more tarnished legacy, at the cost of fresh ideas or anything to say? Moffat’s last outing – the two-part "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead – had all his tropes, tricks and eccentric plot devices, as well as recycled dialogue from previous Moff episodes. The net result was a bloated regurgitation of ideas that worked last time but now seemed worn and dated precisely because they relied so much on their own novelty.
This episode features two of Moffat's 'big ideas'. Namely: Mrs. Who, aka Professor Riversong. She's a sort of bastard lovechild of Elric (in that she’s FUCKING DOOMED) and Bernice Summerfield (in that she’s a bit foxy, likes digging things up and spends a lot of off-screen time with the Doctor). Only, this is the point where she hasn't become a Prof yet, is just out of jail and no doubt hasn't married the Doc either, as he keeps flitting in and out of her timeline in a random sort of way. (Not At All Like The Time Traveller's Wife or, indeed, The Girl In The Fireplace, you understand. Oh NOOOOOO...)
The other returning idea (or rehash of old glories if you wish) comes in the form of the Weeping Angels. For those who have not yet seen "Blink", they're those statues that come to life when you're not looking and steal your potential future from you. This time though, they are NEW AND IMPROVED, with the ability to spread through images, including televisions (Not At All Like The Ring!), and steal voices of their victims (Not At All Like The Vashta Narada!), not to mention being able to infect their victims like a sort of virus. (OK, that's quite original, I'll give him that...) Also, they now cut to the chase and just kill you. HOW'S THAT FOR INNOVATION???
There are some other original ideas here though. The concept of clergy-as-squaddies is rather good, not least because it doesn't go down the path of cyber-goth/Warhammer 40,000 pastiche. Yet the tensions between the Doctor and the 'Father' are just a retread of the equally pointless tensions between Richard E. Grant's Doc and Jim Norton's Major Kennet in "Scream of the Shalka", right down to the squabbling over a radio in an underground setting. The only difference being, of course, that you really don't care if the Father dies or not.
The Doctor also gets some decent dialogue too, for once, and starts sounding like a new Doctor rather than a David Tennant tribute. Still, that doesn't last long, and soon Matt Smith reverts to waving his sonic screwdriver about and doing Who 10's hyperactive ferret act. His 'look of surprise' when it's revealed the Angels are out and about is meant to be dramatic but is so overdone it comes across more as accidental self-parody that wouldn't look out of place in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace.
But the highlight is Alex Kingston's performance as Riversong. True, the way she summons the Doctor via a message from the (relative) past was done to death in Blink. But Kingston brings a real crackle and swagger to her cocky and knowing character. In doing so, she gives the episode a sort of depth and soul it otherwise lacks. And yes, there is even more unoriginality when she does a Lara Croft at one point. Yet she is also the most interesting character here because she is both the story's ambivalent protagonist and the one with the most going on under the surface. Her 'husband', meanwhile, seems like more of a cardboard cutout, following her lead and delivering lines that wouldn't be out of place in a bad action film.
Speaking of flat and insipid, Amy Pond remains awful. Her character development in this episode can be summed up as both obnoxious and slappable. But sadly, you know the Angels won't snuff her out, so instead teeth must be gritted as she stumbles around the place like a crap heckler or a particularly unsympathetic damsel in distress. Alas, the Doctor does not leave her to her death. That would have been fun. The rest of the cast may as well not be there.
All in all then we have one more shit-to-lukewarm episode on our hands. Ironically for a Moffat episode, it's the lack of originality that stands out. Beyond all the examples just given, it's plain that the episode's high-tech military force being picked off piecemeal by an extraterrestial foe (with a numerical advantage!) is pretty much Aliens for a teatime audience. And why did that chav twat from The Streets have to make a cameo at the start of the episode? Why oh why? It would have been more fun to see him get abused in a Turkish prison - now that would have been entertaining!
Still, there's always part two, which is next week and - if the preview is anything to go by - has Amy Pond still not getting killed and Matt Smith shouting a lot. Who knows? Who actually fucking cares?
'The Time of Angels'
24/04/2010
BBC One
The day will come when ‘Whostorians" will note the weird parallels between Nu Who and New Labour. Both re-launched what were seen as naff, worn-out franchises, both to great success but at the cost of their original values. Both also saw a single figure raised to almost idolatrous heights – be it Tony Blair or Russell T. Davies – who then plummeted to earth when ego and hubris brought spectacular nemesis.
The pub bores will no doubt swill many a pint over David Tennant too. Charismatic, young and the object of almost hysterical devotion, he – like Blair – jumped before an over-rated Scotsman finally took over and ran everything into the ground. True, one can stretch the idea too far: unlike Blair, Tennant is still loved, and certainly deserves some if not all of that adulation. And it was RTD who wrote ‘Torchwood: Children of Earth’, as scathing a satire of the New Labour years as you could hope for.
But still, the parallels are… eerie. Not least because Peter Capaldi keeps turning up both in the Whoniverse and as a thinly veiled Alastair Campbell. Or how 70s feminista Sarah Jane Smith was reborn as a sort of Blair Babe, a mumsy authority figure who sacrificed a family life for a career and an unrequited love for a distant, Christ-like figure.
Even the rise and rise of Who producers BBC Cymru echoes the ascent of a more confident, more assertive post-devolution Wales. Meanwhile, the growing clamour of criticism for Stephen Moffat’s tenure as ‘Show Runner’ echoes the slow rot and decay of the post-1997 political settlement under Gordon Brown. Moffat also shows another Brownish trait. He simply can’t stop living off past glories, whether they be an end to Tory Boom ‘n Bust, ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’, pouring tons of money into public services, ‘The Empty Child’, throwing Nokias at people or ‘Blink’.
For what was last Saturday’s episode, "The Time of Angels", but a trawl through an ever-more tarnished legacy, at the cost of fresh ideas or anything to say? Moffat’s last outing – the two-part "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead – had all his tropes, tricks and eccentric plot devices, as well as recycled dialogue from previous Moff episodes. The net result was a bloated regurgitation of ideas that worked last time but now seemed worn and dated precisely because they relied so much on their own novelty.
This episode features two of Moffat's 'big ideas'. Namely: Mrs. Who, aka Professor Riversong. She's a sort of bastard lovechild of Elric (in that she’s FUCKING DOOMED) and Bernice Summerfield (in that she’s a bit foxy, likes digging things up and spends a lot of off-screen time with the Doctor). Only, this is the point where she hasn't become a Prof yet, is just out of jail and no doubt hasn't married the Doc either, as he keeps flitting in and out of her timeline in a random sort of way. (Not At All Like The Time Traveller's Wife or, indeed, The Girl In The Fireplace, you understand. Oh NOOOOOO...)
The other returning idea (or rehash of old glories if you wish) comes in the form of the Weeping Angels. For those who have not yet seen "Blink", they're those statues that come to life when you're not looking and steal your potential future from you. This time though, they are NEW AND IMPROVED, with the ability to spread through images, including televisions (Not At All Like The Ring!), and steal voices of their victims (Not At All Like The Vashta Narada!), not to mention being able to infect their victims like a sort of virus. (OK, that's quite original, I'll give him that...) Also, they now cut to the chase and just kill you. HOW'S THAT FOR INNOVATION???
There are some other original ideas here though. The concept of clergy-as-squaddies is rather good, not least because it doesn't go down the path of cyber-goth/Warhammer 40,000 pastiche. Yet the tensions between the Doctor and the 'Father' are just a retread of the equally pointless tensions between Richard E. Grant's Doc and Jim Norton's Major Kennet in "Scream of the Shalka", right down to the squabbling over a radio in an underground setting. The only difference being, of course, that you really don't care if the Father dies or not.
The Doctor also gets some decent dialogue too, for once, and starts sounding like a new Doctor rather than a David Tennant tribute. Still, that doesn't last long, and soon Matt Smith reverts to waving his sonic screwdriver about and doing Who 10's hyperactive ferret act. His 'look of surprise' when it's revealed the Angels are out and about is meant to be dramatic but is so overdone it comes across more as accidental self-parody that wouldn't look out of place in Garth Marenghi's Darkplace.
But the highlight is Alex Kingston's performance as Riversong. True, the way she summons the Doctor via a message from the (relative) past was done to death in Blink. But Kingston brings a real crackle and swagger to her cocky and knowing character. In doing so, she gives the episode a sort of depth and soul it otherwise lacks. And yes, there is even more unoriginality when she does a Lara Croft at one point. Yet she is also the most interesting character here because she is both the story's ambivalent protagonist and the one with the most going on under the surface. Her 'husband', meanwhile, seems like more of a cardboard cutout, following her lead and delivering lines that wouldn't be out of place in a bad action film.
Speaking of flat and insipid, Amy Pond remains awful. Her character development in this episode can be summed up as both obnoxious and slappable. But sadly, you know the Angels won't snuff her out, so instead teeth must be gritted as she stumbles around the place like a crap heckler or a particularly unsympathetic damsel in distress. Alas, the Doctor does not leave her to her death. That would have been fun. The rest of the cast may as well not be there.
All in all then we have one more shit-to-lukewarm episode on our hands. Ironically for a Moffat episode, it's the lack of originality that stands out. Beyond all the examples just given, it's plain that the episode's high-tech military force being picked off piecemeal by an extraterrestial foe (with a numerical advantage!) is pretty much Aliens for a teatime audience. And why did that chav twat from The Streets have to make a cameo at the start of the episode? Why oh why? It would have been more fun to see him get abused in a Turkish prison - now that would have been entertaining!
Still, there's always part two, which is next week and - if the preview is anything to go by - has Amy Pond still not getting killed and Matt Smith shouting a lot. Who knows? Who actually fucking cares?
WHOPOINTS 5
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Doctor Who, Series V, Episode III: Half-Decent Episode Shocka!
DOCTOR WHO
'Victory of the Daleks'
17/04/2010
BBC One
One must admit to a bit of pre-empting here: Mark Gatiss' episode, "Victory of the Daleks" wasn't as shit as I feared it to be.
In fact, it was all rather good fun if you consider the whole 'Daleks & Churchill & Spitfires in Space'-type vibe. When it's breezing along like this, the episode comes alive mainly because it's having fun and so doesn't really have to deal with small matters like depth and pacing.
Because that is the real problem here: as one critic has already pointed out, the story feels like a two or four-parter Old Who jammed into 42 minutes with all that implies. It rushes along at a great speed and doesn't let the viewer digest each event before leaping on to the next.
The Daleks themselves do benefit from a nice set of touches though, like 'ironsides' painted up in WW2 khaki, and a willingness to make the tea, do filing and be killed because they're not 'dalek' enough. But it still feels more like a new toy line being launched rather than an old threat made new and scary once more. Boring old sods like me will also no doubt observe that their new luridly primary colour scheme echoes that of the 1960s Doctor Who films. At least they're not as 'emo' as the RTD era pepperpots-of-death. But still, there's too much emphasis on what they look like than what they do, which is what they're meant to be about.
Matt Smith's Doctor remains a work in progress. He’s still Tennant-ing at an alarming rate, whilst trying and failing to strike his own note. That said, the scene where he threatens the Daleks with a Jammy Dodger is inspired. Karen Gillan still comes across as Karen Gillan playing Karen Gillan - we don't feel for her character like we should. Yet the fact that she doesn't 'remember' the Daleks (despite their recent antics) is an interesting touch with many intriguing implications. So too is the way that this time the pair actually play an equal part in the resolution rather than one overshadowing the other. (As was the case in the last two benighted episodes.) This isn't ruined too much by yet more cringe-worthy dialogue between the two at the end of the episode (as was the case last week), which nonetheless suggests that the Moff-Beast, as story editor, is developing habits every bit as irritating as RTD’s.
Speaking of which, there is much symbolism here. RTD's era is symbolically blown away alongside with its take on the Daleks by new Daleks belonging very firmly to the Moffat era. Coincidence? Or some weird Oedipal shit that the Moff seems to be working out? Once again there's the 'Scottish' joke/obsession too, which rather makes one yearn for good old Terrance Dicks, who always had the courtesy to leave his hobbyhorses at home and away from the typewriter.
As for the rest of the cast, Ian McNeice's take on Winston Churchill seems alive and believable. While avoiding being that of a mere pastiche, it captures his heroic and human traits alongside the genuine darkness that at times surfaced both in the episode and in reality. The real moral of the story, that the ends do not justify the means (unless you are a Dalek/Nazi), is made all too clear through McNeice’s performance, his Churchill nearly, but not quite, entering seriously dodgy Faustian territory. This is only held back by his grasp on his humanity and his friendship for the Doctor, which is wonderfully depicted.
Bill Paterson's portrayal of Dr. Bracewell, who turns out to be the mere tool of the Daleks in more ways than one, is very effective too, despite how little the script gives him. His character's journey has a genuine poignancy and Paterson makes us feel for him. In a sense it's his character's story - a triumph of humanity vs. the soulless totalitarianism of the Daleks and the real life monsters they represent.
It's a mixed bag, then, that's true. But what stands out is how much fun it all is at times, a sort of gloriously absurd B-movie at teatime with some human drama thrown in for good measure. It's a bit of a shame that it's also trying to do too much with too little, and does feel like a toy commercial at points, but be honest - when's the last time you've had a bit of a laugh with a Dalek episode anyway?
WHOPOINTS 7
'Victory of the Daleks'
17/04/2010
BBC One
One must admit to a bit of pre-empting here: Mark Gatiss' episode, "Victory of the Daleks" wasn't as shit as I feared it to be.
In fact, it was all rather good fun if you consider the whole 'Daleks & Churchill & Spitfires in Space'-type vibe. When it's breezing along like this, the episode comes alive mainly because it's having fun and so doesn't really have to deal with small matters like depth and pacing.
Because that is the real problem here: as one critic has already pointed out, the story feels like a two or four-parter Old Who jammed into 42 minutes with all that implies. It rushes along at a great speed and doesn't let the viewer digest each event before leaping on to the next.
The Daleks themselves do benefit from a nice set of touches though, like 'ironsides' painted up in WW2 khaki, and a willingness to make the tea, do filing and be killed because they're not 'dalek' enough. But it still feels more like a new toy line being launched rather than an old threat made new and scary once more. Boring old sods like me will also no doubt observe that their new luridly primary colour scheme echoes that of the 1960s Doctor Who films. At least they're not as 'emo' as the RTD era pepperpots-of-death. But still, there's too much emphasis on what they look like than what they do, which is what they're meant to be about.
Matt Smith's Doctor remains a work in progress. He’s still Tennant-ing at an alarming rate, whilst trying and failing to strike his own note. That said, the scene where he threatens the Daleks with a Jammy Dodger is inspired. Karen Gillan still comes across as Karen Gillan playing Karen Gillan - we don't feel for her character like we should. Yet the fact that she doesn't 'remember' the Daleks (despite their recent antics) is an interesting touch with many intriguing implications. So too is the way that this time the pair actually play an equal part in the resolution rather than one overshadowing the other. (As was the case in the last two benighted episodes.) This isn't ruined too much by yet more cringe-worthy dialogue between the two at the end of the episode (as was the case last week), which nonetheless suggests that the Moff-Beast, as story editor, is developing habits every bit as irritating as RTD’s.
Speaking of which, there is much symbolism here. RTD's era is symbolically blown away alongside with its take on the Daleks by new Daleks belonging very firmly to the Moffat era. Coincidence? Or some weird Oedipal shit that the Moff seems to be working out? Once again there's the 'Scottish' joke/obsession too, which rather makes one yearn for good old Terrance Dicks, who always had the courtesy to leave his hobbyhorses at home and away from the typewriter.
As for the rest of the cast, Ian McNeice's take on Winston Churchill seems alive and believable. While avoiding being that of a mere pastiche, it captures his heroic and human traits alongside the genuine darkness that at times surfaced both in the episode and in reality. The real moral of the story, that the ends do not justify the means (unless you are a Dalek/Nazi), is made all too clear through McNeice’s performance, his Churchill nearly, but not quite, entering seriously dodgy Faustian territory. This is only held back by his grasp on his humanity and his friendship for the Doctor, which is wonderfully depicted.
Bill Paterson's portrayal of Dr. Bracewell, who turns out to be the mere tool of the Daleks in more ways than one, is very effective too, despite how little the script gives him. His character's journey has a genuine poignancy and Paterson makes us feel for him. In a sense it's his character's story - a triumph of humanity vs. the soulless totalitarianism of the Daleks and the real life monsters they represent.
It's a mixed bag, then, that's true. But what stands out is how much fun it all is at times, a sort of gloriously absurd B-movie at teatime with some human drama thrown in for good measure. It's a bit of a shame that it's also trying to do too much with too little, and does feel like a toy commercial at points, but be honest - when's the last time you've had a bit of a laugh with a Dalek episode anyway?
WHOPOINTS 7
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Doctor Who, Series V, Episode II: Epic Fail (Whale).
DOCTOR WHO
'The Beast Below'
10/04/2010
BBC One
'The Beast Below'
10/04/2010
BBC One
So the second episode of the Moffat era is here. But is it any better than the lukewarm "11th Hour"? At least it leaps straight into the action, as Who XI and rather mad new companion Amy Pond find themselves on Starship UK. This constitutes the fag-end of Great Britain, carrying what's left of the UK to safety after Solar Flares make the Earth a bit crispy. (Which ties it in nicely with the existing Who chronology, if you remember "The Ark In Space".)
Once there they discover it to be a grim place indeed. Children weep silently, as sinister mechanical overseers called 'smilers' discipline and punish. For there are a few seriously nasty secrets here, not least a Queen whose memory keeps getting wiped. And then there’s a charming scene where the Doc & Amy get caught up in a tidal wave of vomit. Yes, it's wholesome entertainment all round as the Doctor is forced to consider giving someone a quick lobotomy. Yay.
The episode lacks teeth. Both leads (Matt Smith and Karen Gillan) still seem smug and complacent. It’s like they've not quite realised that there’s more to it than just passing the sodding audition. On the other hand, Smith actually tries to de-Tennant the Doc in this one, albeit in a way that suggests Moffat really, REALLY wanted Martin Clunes instead. But the effort seems wasted as he still lapses into Tennant-esque impotent rage for the most part.
In terms of all those de rigeur high concept Moffat ideas, The Smilers are too pretentious to be really scary. But the novel use of glasses full of water placed on the floor (to reveal... well that would be telling) is a great touch. Meanwhile, the conflicts between Doc & Amy are surprisingly free of RTD's old rancour and misery. The truly clever part of the story is where Amy revolts against the Doctor because, paradoxically, she understands he is right.
On the other hand, while the resolution to the 'unresolvable' dilemma is a sound one, it all seems far too hurried and rushed, like a four part Old Who serial jammed into 42 minutes. And while the resolution also means that Amy Pond gets something to do, the Doctor is reduced to a bit player as a result. This somehow doesn't seem right, not least when you consider that the best Doctor-Companion solutions to cosmic problems have always involved equal or at least substantial contributions from both sides. It's always been a show about the poor sods taken along for the ride, but it's never been called Doctor Who for nothing either. In this sense, Moffat gets the balance wrong, perhaps being too keen to establish Amy at the cost of the dynamics between her and the Doc himself.
And of course, some of the dialogue is pretty cheesy, in fact, almost ST: OS-like in levels of pure Stilton. Some of it is painful to remember, let alone quote without cringing.
But the real problem is that the core conceit of the episode - that Starship UK is built on top of a massive Space Whale - is either a blatant rip-off or may as well be. The Space Whale, a benign intergalactic cetacean enslaved and used as a transport sounds eerily like the Acanti, of Marvel Comics fame, who just so happen to also be... benign intergalactic cetaceans enslaved and used as transports. Going back to the Star Trek angle, the Space Whale's secretly maternal and cuddly nature, combined with its ruthless exploitation by ghastly humans, sounds eerily like the Horta from "The Devil in the Dark" episode, so much so that you have to wonder what is really original about this story.
After all, a feisty redhead companion? We've already had Donna Noble. Angry conflicted Doctor wondering why he puts so much effort into protecting all those human bastards? Who III was doing that 40 years ago. Thinly veiled satire on British society? "The Happiness Patrol" wants an apology for all the shit hurled at it over the intervening 23 years.
It doesn't help that Starship UK doesn't seem particularly believable. This is not because of the swish CGI effects, but precisely because it feels like a collection of clichés, Union Jack Kitsch and bric-a-brac on a soundstage rather than a living, breathing place or collection of places, like that hinted at masterfully in "The End of the World". (Which, incidentally, still comes out looking good in comparison after half a decade). That was itself the second episode in a new series with a new Doctor, where the companion's first trip is in the far future, and so, of course, even that's unoriginal, right down to the penultimate shot where Doc and Companion stare wistfully into space after the mayhem is resolved. In that sense, this is less drama and more repetition without end, and doesn't bode well for the rest of the season.
Still, we get to see what Mark Gatiss does to Winston Churchill and the Daleks next week. What could possibly go wrong? Answers on a postcard to...
WHOPOINTS 5/10
Doctor Who, Series V, Episode I: Meh ad excelsis.
DOCTOR WHO
'The Eleventh Hour'
03/04/2010
BBC One
So farewell then, David Tennant. You wowed the crowd though the existential angst was a massive downer and RTD had long passed his sell-by date. 'Look to the future' as your weird two-hearted alter ego might say... And any man who can admit to liking Coldplay and not come across as a total wanker while simultaneously doing Hamlet justice deserves at least some adulation.
And then there was Christopher Ecclestone, whose one series in the role still has a haunting resonance, despite the naff aliens, munchkin Daleks and Captain Bloody Jack.
This leaves us with Doctor Who XI, the curiously shaped Matt Smith, and new turnip-headed showrunner Stephen Moffatt. It's said that the Moff's Nu Who episodes (Blink, The Girl in the Fireplace, Forest of the Dead, The Empty Child etc.) were some of the best, but they all had a tendency to get too caught up in their own cleverness and abandon RTD's never-ending grief-fest for a sort of fetishisation of the Doc which was no more true to the source material than ol' Russell was.
The first episode of this new paradigm thingie is, then, a curate's egg farted out by a conflicted chicken. The annoyances are still there: all the whizz-bangs, overwrought drama, the ADHD-friendly pace aimed at kids (and some adults) with five-second attention spans, the improbable solutions to improbable situations, the wholly unconvincing CGI effects and the inevitable love interest rammed in to keep the morons who actually like soap operas interested too, not to mention the occasional flashes of scenery-chewing melodrama that blighted RTD's work at its worst.
In other ways, what has changed is simply cosmetic. Whilst RTD felt a neurotic urge to keep reminding us that, yes, he was gay and - FUCKING HELL! - there were other homosexuals on the planet (to which a 2005 audience should really have replied - 'who gives a fuck either way'?), so the Moff brings his own neuroses. Yes, he's Scottish, so it is no surprise that the inevitable 'Scotland's Great & England's shit' in-joke is invoked, not to mention a reference to the Jock lust for fried food. It's all horribly self-indulgent attention whoring, like a 14-year-old girl fretting about her weight and insisting on telling everyone about it every 15 seconds. What has been Nu Who's main flaw is its constant self consciousness, which manifests as both a itch that must be scratched and a lazy reliance on its heritage.
Equally cosmetic, if you'll forgive the irony, is Matt Smith as the new Doctor. It's fitting that he spends most of the episode in David Tennant's old costume before donning a new set of clothes that look a bit like... David Tennant's old costume. Obviously every new Doctor must thrash about a bit before they become their own man, but it's telling that whereas poor old Colin Baker nailed it in seconds, Matt Smith still comes across as a sort of tepid tribute act at the end of his first episode, right down to the 'timey-wimey' clichés and the weird Freudian fixation on the Sonic-Screwdriver-As-Magic-Wand schtick.
Of course, much is made of the fact that the Doctor saves the world sans Tardis (which is too busy turning into an expensive and overdone Steampunk pastiche) or the aforementioned screwdriver, like he used to before the BBC started throwing money at its one-time sci-fi Cinderella. But this seems like a drastic over-compensation for over-used tropes, as is the point when XI proclaims loudly that he IS the Doctor mainly for dramatic effect, but in part, one suspects because he hasn't otherwise sealed the deal.
It doesn't help that Matt Smith is faintly insipid. His voice lacks force and his performance is without sparkle or real presence, like there's no real passion for the gig. This is not helped by scripted dialogue that would sound stilted and routine if it wasn't coming out of Tennant's or Ecclestone's mouth, all of which creates an uneasy sense that we've spent the last five years watching a truly monumental turd polishing exercise rather than a decent sci-fi series. Worse, there is nothing remarkable about this Doctor - his costume is staid and unimaginative and his personality is indistinct. Perhaps it doesn't help that Smith's off-stage demeanour is that of a preening, self-satisfied BAPA bollock, right down to the ridiculous 'look-at-me-I'm-an-Ac-TOR' leather trilby he sports when spotted in Confidential, and the lack of personal depth and nuance he brings to the role. Tennant had old man's eyes. Smith does not.
Equally uninspiring is new time tottie Amy Pond, played by an inevitably Scottish Karen Gillan. Leaving aside the absurdity of a little girl growing up alone in a large house with an on-the-run alien criminal hiding in a room she can't notice, whilst somehow retaining a Scots accent AND ending up as a Kissergram (why does the Doctor never travel with any Plain Janes?), she is also far too abrasive and unsympathetic a character. Gillan's performance is also too cold fish and patronising, and there is none of the immediate, easy rapport with the audience that, say, Billy Piper, Freema Agyeman and Catherine Tate - or for that matter, Katy Manning - brought to the table.
Did I mention that the plot has holes you could pilot a battleship through and a cottage hospital setting that is a far-too-blatant retread of 'Spearhead From Space'? (The Doctor even gets his new clothes there a la Pertwee/III. It's surprising he doesn't steal Bessie for good measure, but this being HEAVY HANDED ROARING NU WHO, he settles for a fire engine instead.) Or that the monster (an enormous snake-like shape-shifter with silly teeth, that hangs from the top of the screen like a elephant's penis so they didn't have to put any more thought into its design) is crap?
So are the other aliens - giant eyeballs flying through space in flimsy space ships that look like they were rendered by a 17-year-old graphics student on a knackered Amiga A1200. The big Nu Who delusion seems not to be that it's as good or better than the old series but that its production values are ultimately any better, and in terms of crap monsters, they most plainly aren't. They even had the cheek to feature a montage of the Doctor's past foes, including Sea Devils, who somehow seem start-of-the-art by comparison.
And yet, parts of this episode do actually work. The possibility that Pond is as much psycho stalker as new BFF and groupie is intriguing, but doubtless will be buggered up. Whilst her hapless boyfriend Rory, played with suitably floppy pathos by Arthur Darvill, serves as an effective foil, quite literally Amy's Nurse to Amy's Doctor. His role is no doubt destined to be 'the other woman' in the Doctor's relationship with his new companion, but it would be nice if more was done with an intriguing character. The scene where the Doctor searches his memory (using a gloriously surreal time lapse photography special effect) is inspired, and the plot device of 'the crack' (apparently in a wall, but actually in the fabric of space-time itself) is genuinely ominous. It remains to be seen whether the good bits will outnumber the bad parts to a degree sufficient enough to make it different from the previous four series, but for now perhaps this series deserves just enough rope to hang itself...
...Apart from the pisspoor new rendition of the theme tune, which is in turn overly orchestral to the point of self-parody, has appalling timing and ultimately sounds like Drum 'n Bass meets Ice Cream van. Murray Gold, hang your head in SHAME...
'The Eleventh Hour'
03/04/2010
BBC One
So farewell then, David Tennant. You wowed the crowd though the existential angst was a massive downer and RTD had long passed his sell-by date. 'Look to the future' as your weird two-hearted alter ego might say... And any man who can admit to liking Coldplay and not come across as a total wanker while simultaneously doing Hamlet justice deserves at least some adulation.
And then there was Christopher Ecclestone, whose one series in the role still has a haunting resonance, despite the naff aliens, munchkin Daleks and Captain Bloody Jack.
This leaves us with Doctor Who XI, the curiously shaped Matt Smith, and new turnip-headed showrunner Stephen Moffatt. It's said that the Moff's Nu Who episodes (Blink, The Girl in the Fireplace, Forest of the Dead, The Empty Child etc.) were some of the best, but they all had a tendency to get too caught up in their own cleverness and abandon RTD's never-ending grief-fest for a sort of fetishisation of the Doc which was no more true to the source material than ol' Russell was.
The first episode of this new paradigm thingie is, then, a curate's egg farted out by a conflicted chicken. The annoyances are still there: all the whizz-bangs, overwrought drama, the ADHD-friendly pace aimed at kids (and some adults) with five-second attention spans, the improbable solutions to improbable situations, the wholly unconvincing CGI effects and the inevitable love interest rammed in to keep the morons who actually like soap operas interested too, not to mention the occasional flashes of scenery-chewing melodrama that blighted RTD's work at its worst.
In other ways, what has changed is simply cosmetic. Whilst RTD felt a neurotic urge to keep reminding us that, yes, he was gay and - FUCKING HELL! - there were other homosexuals on the planet (to which a 2005 audience should really have replied - 'who gives a fuck either way'?), so the Moff brings his own neuroses. Yes, he's Scottish, so it is no surprise that the inevitable 'Scotland's Great & England's shit' in-joke is invoked, not to mention a reference to the Jock lust for fried food. It's all horribly self-indulgent attention whoring, like a 14-year-old girl fretting about her weight and insisting on telling everyone about it every 15 seconds. What has been Nu Who's main flaw is its constant self consciousness, which manifests as both a itch that must be scratched and a lazy reliance on its heritage.
Equally cosmetic, if you'll forgive the irony, is Matt Smith as the new Doctor. It's fitting that he spends most of the episode in David Tennant's old costume before donning a new set of clothes that look a bit like... David Tennant's old costume. Obviously every new Doctor must thrash about a bit before they become their own man, but it's telling that whereas poor old Colin Baker nailed it in seconds, Matt Smith still comes across as a sort of tepid tribute act at the end of his first episode, right down to the 'timey-wimey' clichés and the weird Freudian fixation on the Sonic-Screwdriver-As-Magic-Wand schtick.
Of course, much is made of the fact that the Doctor saves the world sans Tardis (which is too busy turning into an expensive and overdone Steampunk pastiche) or the aforementioned screwdriver, like he used to before the BBC started throwing money at its one-time sci-fi Cinderella. But this seems like a drastic over-compensation for over-used tropes, as is the point when XI proclaims loudly that he IS the Doctor mainly for dramatic effect, but in part, one suspects because he hasn't otherwise sealed the deal.
It doesn't help that Matt Smith is faintly insipid. His voice lacks force and his performance is without sparkle or real presence, like there's no real passion for the gig. This is not helped by scripted dialogue that would sound stilted and routine if it wasn't coming out of Tennant's or Ecclestone's mouth, all of which creates an uneasy sense that we've spent the last five years watching a truly monumental turd polishing exercise rather than a decent sci-fi series. Worse, there is nothing remarkable about this Doctor - his costume is staid and unimaginative and his personality is indistinct. Perhaps it doesn't help that Smith's off-stage demeanour is that of a preening, self-satisfied BAPA bollock, right down to the ridiculous 'look-at-me-I'm-an-Ac-TOR' leather trilby he sports when spotted in Confidential, and the lack of personal depth and nuance he brings to the role. Tennant had old man's eyes. Smith does not.
Equally uninspiring is new time tottie Amy Pond, played by an inevitably Scottish Karen Gillan. Leaving aside the absurdity of a little girl growing up alone in a large house with an on-the-run alien criminal hiding in a room she can't notice, whilst somehow retaining a Scots accent AND ending up as a Kissergram (why does the Doctor never travel with any Plain Janes?), she is also far too abrasive and unsympathetic a character. Gillan's performance is also too cold fish and patronising, and there is none of the immediate, easy rapport with the audience that, say, Billy Piper, Freema Agyeman and Catherine Tate - or for that matter, Katy Manning - brought to the table.
Did I mention that the plot has holes you could pilot a battleship through and a cottage hospital setting that is a far-too-blatant retread of 'Spearhead From Space'? (The Doctor even gets his new clothes there a la Pertwee/III. It's surprising he doesn't steal Bessie for good measure, but this being HEAVY HANDED ROARING NU WHO, he settles for a fire engine instead.) Or that the monster (an enormous snake-like shape-shifter with silly teeth, that hangs from the top of the screen like a elephant's penis so they didn't have to put any more thought into its design) is crap?
So are the other aliens - giant eyeballs flying through space in flimsy space ships that look like they were rendered by a 17-year-old graphics student on a knackered Amiga A1200. The big Nu Who delusion seems not to be that it's as good or better than the old series but that its production values are ultimately any better, and in terms of crap monsters, they most plainly aren't. They even had the cheek to feature a montage of the Doctor's past foes, including Sea Devils, who somehow seem start-of-the-art by comparison.
And yet, parts of this episode do actually work. The possibility that Pond is as much psycho stalker as new BFF and groupie is intriguing, but doubtless will be buggered up. Whilst her hapless boyfriend Rory, played with suitably floppy pathos by Arthur Darvill, serves as an effective foil, quite literally Amy's Nurse to Amy's Doctor. His role is no doubt destined to be 'the other woman' in the Doctor's relationship with his new companion, but it would be nice if more was done with an intriguing character. The scene where the Doctor searches his memory (using a gloriously surreal time lapse photography special effect) is inspired, and the plot device of 'the crack' (apparently in a wall, but actually in the fabric of space-time itself) is genuinely ominous. It remains to be seen whether the good bits will outnumber the bad parts to a degree sufficient enough to make it different from the previous four series, but for now perhaps this series deserves just enough rope to hang itself...
...Apart from the pisspoor new rendition of the theme tune, which is in turn overly orchestral to the point of self-parody, has appalling timing and ultimately sounds like Drum 'n Bass meets Ice Cream van. Murray Gold, hang your head in SHAME...
WHOPOINTS 6/10
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Brown Love & Brown Hate.
The past 24 hours have revealed a great deal about the country.
Firstly, how easily the media can get suckered by Alistair Campbell and the Labour spin machine. It was, of course, foolish of National Bullying Helpline founder Christine Pratt to stick her head above the parapet. Not only did she breach the confidentiality of those who rang the NBH up, but she also did so without realising how easily she could be smeared, discredited and used as a smokescreen for the real issue - whether Gordon Brown is fit for office.
But then aren't we all compromised? We've all got secrets, connections and circumstances that can be used against us. (Ask Boris Johnson, for example.) Those taking part in the public flaying of Pratt might consider at some point how vulnerable they are in turn. It could happen to anybody - especially when spin doctors are looking for a distraction. This is the psychology of McCarthyism and Witch Hunts, but Christine Pratt should still have paused before acting, if only because it is such a distraction.
That is no excuse, however, for the bullying she has in turn endured. Britain is a nation of bullies, as this blog has pointed out, but in a subconscious way that seems oblivious to the irony of bullying resulting from a story about... bullying.
Still, as Rod Liddle and Brendan O’Neill demonstrate, a nation of bullies must, by necessisity, blame the victims, if only so they can tell them to Grow Up, Suck It In, Pull Themselves Together, Live With It, etc. This seems to be the main problem with exposing Brown as a bully - you get the impression that a large segment of the public sort of agree with bullying, in part because it's always good sense to side with the bully, but also because there is an unspoken loathing of the weak. As Nic Cohen said of the thuggish 'comedy' panel show, Mock The Week:
Similarly, Mock the Week tells me something about the British I would rather not know. It commands an audience of about three million. As I watched, it occurred to me that Britain may well have three million people who would happily go along with the mob if we ever had a government that incited violence against the vulnerable. [SOURCE]
And as AA Gill noted (while pretending that this is only an English rather than a UK-wide trait), even joy and laughter is tainted by this pack sadism:
English humour is the sound of the bullies. The overtold story of the English underdog overcoming the big man with laughter is simply not true. The English constantly use their humour as an indiscriminate bludgeon... The humour of embarrassment and the joy of classroom teasing is a national sport, and its very ubiquity is its open-palmed “What, us?” defence, because at some point everyone suffers for it. Obviously there’s no harm meant. If you beat up only Pakis, you’re a racist, but if you beat up everyone it’s only having a laugh. And anyway, they should be able to take a joke. [SOURCE]
This presumably explains how Brown the Bully is presently being spun as Brown the Victim. If he really were on the skids, there would be no mercy for him, as John Major, Neil Kinnock and Michael Foot's own skewerings demonstrate. And how else to explain tonight's spectacle on Channel 4 News, where lumpenprole grotesque, John Prescott, jowels wobbling away, tried to convince the nation that his party did not have an issue with bullying by, err, trying to shout down Krishnan Guru Murphy and smearing Pratt without her being there to give a response. He could do this because he had an entire political machine behind him, launching a violent counter attack like, well, a bully who's just been shoved back.
But that's not the only factor at play here. There's the herd-like falling in to line of the most insubordinate of lefties, all piling in on Comment Is Free, Harry's Place and Socialist Unity to spread the shit, repeat the spin and generally defend a man they claim to hold in contempt. Why? Because they're scared that the Tories might get in, and individual values mean nothing when there's a turd wearing a red rosette vs. a twat in a blue rosette. This is the origins of every betrayal by the left in this country - a set of strongly espoused beliefs behind which only tribalism and accompanying blood feuds really matter. At least Bob Piper is consistent, one supposes.
The only question now is whether the public will fall for it, as they seem to have fallen for the 'Pity Me!' narrative engineered last weekend, and see Brown the victimiser as instead Brown the victim. Or perhaps he truly has been wounded and so they will swarm around him like sharks, eager for more blood. The fact that The Sun has described Brown as 'The Prime Monster' suggests the latter, whereas the muddled coverage by the BBC suggests the 'narrative' is still up for grabs. Perhaps the matter will die, as the government hopes, or more shit will float to the surface. After all, it wasn't so long ago that Brown was shoving wavering Labour MPs into the 'Yes' lobby during the climax of the ID Card Bill showdown of 2006. The fact remains that Brown's bad behaviour has been common knowledge for a while - it's been in the public domain long enough to suggest that a bastard can stay a bastard just as long as he remains a powerful bastard.
But this all gets in the way of the real question: Are Andrew Rawnsley's allegations true, and if not, why has Brown merely issued denials and not libel wits? That in itself speaks volumes.
Sunday, 21 February 2010
In The Brown Stuff.
For those who didn't know, journalist Andrew Rawnsley has just published a book that makes pisspoor Prime Minister Gordon Brown look like an unstable, violent and mentally incompetent nincompoop. Do we really deserve to be lead by a man like this?
Even Rawnsley himself seems sucked into this bizarre psychology, that leaves the victim both vulnerable and complicit in their own abuse. It's not his fault, he just gets angry sometimes! Why, he can be a good man sometimes..!
Of course, the truth is that Brown, like all abusers, ultimately only has the power others allow him. By making excuses and clinging to the vain myth that this unpleasant, stunted man can actually do anything good rather than spiteful or myopic, we allow him to continue to ruin our country, poison our culture and plunge us ever deeper into penury. Gordon Brown has helped make the Tories electable. What else need be said?
...During one rage, while in his official car, Brown clenched his fist in fury after being told some unwelcome news and then thumped the back of the passenger seat with such force that a protection officer sitting in the front flinched with shock. The aide sitting next to Brown, who had just told him the information that provoked the outburst, cowered because he feared "that the prime minister was about to hit him in the face".Whether Brown is a liability is pretty much like asking if being set on fire really hurts. But how can such a man stay in power? Well, like most abusive arseholes, he actually depends on his victims to make excuses for him, to let him off the hook.
Rawnsley writes that "the cream upholstery of the seat-back in front of Brown was flecked with black marks. When having a meltdown the prime minister would habitually stab it with his black marker pen"... [Source]
According to Rawnsley, O'Donnell was so disturbed by the effect on those in Downing Street that he took it upon himself to try "to calm down frightened duty clerks, badly treated phone operators and other bruised staff by telling them, 'Don't take it personally'". [Source]Yep, don't take physical assault or mental abuse personally. Tsk, don't you realise you're simply making things worse? Never mind that this is the sort of behaviour that leads to tribunals or criminal prosecutions.
Even Rawnsley himself seems sucked into this bizarre psychology, that leaves the victim both vulnerable and complicit in their own abuse. It's not his fault, he just gets angry sometimes! Why, he can be a good man sometimes..!
However, the book does show the softer side of the prime minister, recounting how he is capable of being incredibly solicitous towards colleagues at times of family emergency and bereavement. [Source]Yeah, that makes up for manhandling people, throwing phones, being horrible to female staff and acting like a deranged thug. And then there was his single-handed rescue of the world economy which, err, shackled us with even more debt, inflation and unsustainable public expenditure.
In today's serialisation, you can also sample part of the account of the financial crisis during which Gordon Brown displayed some of his positive attributes as a leader. In October 2008, even those cabinet colleagues and civil servants who were otherwise in utter despair about the prime minister were admiring of the boldness and imagination with which he reacted to the crisis by producing a blueprint for saving the financial system which was broadly copied around the world.One wonders if one should laugh or cry at this point.
Of course, the truth is that Brown, like all abusers, ultimately only has the power others allow him. By making excuses and clinging to the vain myth that this unpleasant, stunted man can actually do anything good rather than spiteful or myopic, we allow him to continue to ruin our country, poison our culture and plunge us ever deeper into penury. Gordon Brown has helped make the Tories electable. What else need be said?
Friday, 19 February 2010
Yet More US School Paranoia.
Remember, spying on teenagers behind a bush or with a pair of binoculours is weird. Whereas, spying on teenagers via school computers is perfectly acceptable. Rememeber, it's for your own good:
A school district in Pennsylvania spied on students through web cameras installed on laptops provided by the district, according to a class action lawsuit filed this week.You only get such sincere apologies from people who've been caught out. It does raise a pertinent question though, especially in the CCTV-sodden UK (and London, where you can't scratch your nose without being spotted). Why do we so easily submit to surveillance, even though we don't know who's at the other end? Paranoia makes us vulnerable to the real thing, it seems.
Lower Merion school district, in a well-heeled suburb of Philadelphia, provided 2,300 high-school students with Mac laptops last autumn in what its superintendent, Christopher McGinley, described as an effort to establish a "mobile, 21st-century learning environment"...
...The district retained remote control of the built-in webcams installed on the computers – and used them to capture images of the students, according to a lawsuit filed in federal court this week.
The ruse was revealed when Blake Robbins, a student at Harriton high school, was hauled into the assistant principal Lindy Matsko's office, shown a photograph taken on the laptop in his home and disciplined for "improper behaviour"...
...n a letter posted on the school district's website, McGinley said the district had installed on the laptops a security feature that allowed the webcam to photograph the computer operator in the event the laptop is lost or stolen. He said that following the suit's filing, the district disabled the feature amidst a review of technology and privacy policies. He said the feature was activated only to help locate a lost or stolen laptop.
"The district never activated the security feature for any other purpose or in any other manner whatsoever," he wrote. "We regret if this situation has caused any concern or inconvenience among our students and families."
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Intolerable Zero Tolerance.
While this blog likes to stay firmly in the UK, and in London, sometimes there is a news story from abroad that compels it to vomit out epic torrents of outrage and bile.
This is one such story.
Still it's a slippery slope from just scribbling on a desk to going tonto in the canteen with an AK-47, amirite? Alexa, it's obviously for your own good that you're humiliated in front of your classmates and be so traumatised you then spend the next three days "throwing up". America has to make sure its children are safe and don't live in fear!
After all, according to this prize plonker, Zero Tolerance is A Good Thing:
Two things spring to mind. Firstly, there's some weird double think going on if you can honestly combine 'common sense' and 'zero tolerance'in the same sentence. One suggests moderation and nuance, whilst the other signifies extremity and a simple minded black-and-white morality.
Secondly, there's something pretty dodgy about having a URL, as Ken Trump does, like http://www.schoolshootingexpert.com/ - hardly reassuring, is it? It presumes the worst case scenario and suggests you should too. So does having a company named: "National School Safety and Security Services" which offers "school security and emergency preparedness training". And it's not meant to be reassuring, because here we have the commodification of panic, where our darkest fears are sold back to us. Worse, like most products, we are not just being sold the solution but also the problem - we are being convinced to be afraid.
And yet school shootings and other such events make the news precisely because they are so rare, and so newsworthy. The mistake we make with the news and which the news lets us make is to assume the unusual is in fact everyday or ever-more likely. But it's not - you are very unlikely to die in a school shooting in the US, at least if the Center for Disease Control is to be believed. Meanwhile, in the UK, 40% of road deaths are in the 15-25 group (who only have about 12.5% of all driving licences issued). Back in the US, drivers in the 15-24 age bracket consitutute only 14% of the population but account for 30% of all injuries amongst male drivers - in 2008 alone, this amounted to the deaths of 3500 young people, compared to 323 deaths from school shootings between 1992-1997.
One death is always one too many, but where is the outrage for all those who die young and in an RTA? The ugly truth is that while school shootings are exciting, rare and - from a journalistic perspective - 'sexy', deaths in traffic accidents are mundane, everyday, and of little interest (except for those directly effected.) Perverse but true - not all dead teenagers are equal. Such irrationality leads the debate and in doing so distorts our view of it.
This brings us back to Zero Tolerance, which seeks to apply extreme responses to extreme events to the everyday and the typical. It should go without saying that this is absurd, but since when has reason ever counted in debates like this?
The real question we should be having is whether schools are the healthiest environments for children to grow up in, whether leaving our young in a state of perpetual in loco parentis really helps much, or whether a 19th century model of top-down, hierachical learning really is the best way for children to learn. But that's another blogpost, another rant, another day.
This is one such story.
Alexa Gonzalez, an outgoing 12-year-old who likes to dance and draw, expected a lecture or maybe detention for her doodles earlier this month. Instead, the principal of the Junior High School in Forest Hills, New York, called police, and the seventh-grader was taken across the street to the police precinct.
Alexa's hands were cuffed behind her back, and tears gushed as she was escorted from school in front of teachers and - the worst audience of all for a preadolescent girl - her classmates.
"They put the handcuffs on me, and I couldn't believe it," Alexa recalled. "I didn't want them to see me being handcuffed, thinking I'm a bad person."
Still it's a slippery slope from just scribbling on a desk to going tonto in the canteen with an AK-47, amirite? Alexa, it's obviously for your own good that you're humiliated in front of your classmates and be so traumatised you then spend the next three days "throwing up". America has to make sure its children are safe and don't live in fear!
After all, according to this prize plonker, Zero Tolerance is A Good Thing:
Kenneth Trump, a security expert who founded the National School Safety and Security Services consulting firm, said focusing on security is essential to the safety of other students. He said zero tolerance policies can work if "common sense is applied."
Two things spring to mind. Firstly, there's some weird double think going on if you can honestly combine 'common sense' and 'zero tolerance'in the same sentence. One suggests moderation and nuance, whilst the other signifies extremity and a simple minded black-and-white morality.
Secondly, there's something pretty dodgy about having a URL, as Ken Trump does, like http://www.schoolshootingexpert.com/ - hardly reassuring, is it? It presumes the worst case scenario and suggests you should too. So does having a company named: "National School Safety and Security Services" which offers "school security and emergency preparedness training". And it's not meant to be reassuring, because here we have the commodification of panic, where our darkest fears are sold back to us. Worse, like most products, we are not just being sold the solution but also the problem - we are being convinced to be afraid.
And yet school shootings and other such events make the news precisely because they are so rare, and so newsworthy. The mistake we make with the news and which the news lets us make is to assume the unusual is in fact everyday or ever-more likely. But it's not - you are very unlikely to die in a school shooting in the US, at least if the Center for Disease Control is to be believed. Meanwhile, in the UK, 40% of road deaths are in the 15-25 group (who only have about 12.5% of all driving licences issued). Back in the US, drivers in the 15-24 age bracket consitutute only 14% of the population but account for 30% of all injuries amongst male drivers - in 2008 alone, this amounted to the deaths of 3500 young people, compared to 323 deaths from school shootings between 1992-1997.
One death is always one too many, but where is the outrage for all those who die young and in an RTA? The ugly truth is that while school shootings are exciting, rare and - from a journalistic perspective - 'sexy', deaths in traffic accidents are mundane, everyday, and of little interest (except for those directly effected.) Perverse but true - not all dead teenagers are equal. Such irrationality leads the debate and in doing so distorts our view of it.
This brings us back to Zero Tolerance, which seeks to apply extreme responses to extreme events to the everyday and the typical. It should go without saying that this is absurd, but since when has reason ever counted in debates like this?
The real question we should be having is whether schools are the healthiest environments for children to grow up in, whether leaving our young in a state of perpetual in loco parentis really helps much, or whether a 19th century model of top-down, hierachical learning really is the best way for children to learn. But that's another blogpost, another rant, another day.
Saturday, 2 January 2010
Doctor Who: The End of Time - An 'I Can't Be Arsed To Write Much' Review.
Last night's Doctor Who - was it good? Yes, no and maybe - but you're a walking corpse if those last five words didn't break your heart and the Tennant/Cribbins double act didn't leave you in awe. At its best, which I'm happy to say was most of the time, it recaptured the initial magic and excitement of the far too quickly forgotten Eccleston era. It was an end worth mourning.
Anyway, these two very disparate reviews HERE and HERE say pretty much what I was going to write anyway, so read them instead. Let us now prepare to be enthralled or horribly disappointed as Laird Moffat and his Time Toddler begin their reign.
Anyway, these two very disparate reviews HERE and HERE say pretty much what I was going to write anyway, so read them instead. Let us now prepare to be enthralled or horribly disappointed as Laird Moffat and his Time Toddler begin their reign.
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