Showing posts with label Graeme Curry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Graeme Curry. Show all posts
Sunday, 16 May 2010
The Sarah Jane Adventures: Whatever Happened to Sarah Jane?
Part One
“Somebody just walked over my grave…”
Oh dear. Looking at my notes for this one it’s going to be the sort of full-length write-up I said I wasn’t going to do for SJA. Bad, bad Gareth Roberts with all his pesky subtext…
We start with exactly the kind of ideal family scene which gives us a pretty clear idea that things are about to go very bad very soon, and any kind of experience of how TV drama works will give us a pretty shrewd idea of how. Sure enough; this status quo is smashed, in the form of reality being altered so that Sarah Jane died at the age of thirteen. And, as we’ll see, the status quo is to permanently change in relation to Alan, but that’s for next episode.
One niggle; how come Andrea (played by the really rather famous Jane Asher) coincidentally end up living in the same house as Sarah Jane? There’s no obvious reason other than plot convenience why she should. But I’ll overlook this, I think; it’s handwaved away quite nicely with the focus on Maria’s adjustment to the new reality misdirecting us away from such inconvenient thoughts. Anyway, perhaps reality simply adjusts the minimum amount possible? I can buy that.
This is an excellent way to handle a Sarah Jane-lite story, and a rather good example to the parent show in this respect, and this episode fully experiences the consequences for Maria of reality changing around her. Particularly powerful is the realisation that Clyde isn’t particularly friendly to her in this reality- showing us how much he’s changed in a few short weeks.
This is Maria’s episode, though, and we get more development of her relationship with her dad. Only at the end is it revealed that Andrea made a Faustian pact aged thirteen with the mysterious hooded figure we saw skulking around earlier. The episode ends with a Graske turning up (Not that I’m particularly vexed by such questions, but did their “previous” appearance count/ Whatever.). This is not exactly the prosthetics department’s finest hour, but it just about gets away with it.
Part Two
“Chaos is my blood and air and food…”
Maria is sent back to 1964 for reasons which are not entirely clear, where she meets two thirteen year old girls, Andrea and Sarah Jane. But why is Sarah Jane not speaking in a Scouse accent? Not only are there traces of Liverpool in Lis Sladen’s speech, but I recall some dialogue from Invasion of the Dinosaurs in which she used the Liverpool Docks as an example of something normal and familiar. Bit of a minor continuity error here, methinks. On the other hand, I love Andrea’s reference to “a Triffid coming to get us”. No doubt she saw the previous year’s film version featuring Doctor Who’s Carole Ann Ford.
Maria, erased from existence at Andrea’s whim just to stop her feeling bad, ends up in “Limbo”, where she meets Sarah Jane. We then meet the villain of the piece: the Trickster, a lover of chaos who refers to humans as ephemerals (hmmm…). His plan makes sense, sort of, and I’m glad we get an explanation as to what happened to the previous alien invasions which now won’t have been stopped by Sarah Jane. Apparently the upcoming meteor strike will be a much more aesthetically pleasing demise for the planet to the discerning aficionado of chaos.
The conclusion, with Andrea’s moral dilemma and self-sacrifice, is genuinely heart-rending, but the Trickster is defeated. Except… Alan now knows all about the aliens and stuff. Oops…
Truly excellent stuff. I’ve enjoyed the previous stories, but it’s nice to have something with a bit more depth. 5/5.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Doctor Who: The Happiness Patrol
Part One
“Can’t you afford a real gun?”
Everything in this story is very obviously studio-based, with the studio floor prominent even in the early scenes set in a “street”. But this is only a problem if you’re expecting things to be “realistic”, and this story isn’t supposed to be. This is abstract theatre with a camera pointed at it, with sets and costumes to match. And it’s great.
The style of the streets, with a very “Big Brother” visible face on the wall, seems very reminiscent of Kneale and Cartier’s 1954 TV version of 1984. The planet of Terra Alpha is exactly this kind of totalitarian state, and the state persecution of those who refuse to conform by being “happy” works well as a metaphor for all sorts of things. I remember a lot of talk in mid-‘90s fanzines of this story being about Section 28; I don’t think there’s anything to indicate that was particularly intended, but it’s one of many valid interpretations.
As soon as the Doctor and Ace arrive they immediately start plotting regime change, and this story charts how the Doctor acts as a catalyst for the overthrow of Helen A’s regime over the course of a single evening. Helen A herself, played superbly by Sheila Hancock, is of course in no way based on Thatcher.
Visually and stylistically, this feels very similar to Vengeance on Varos, not only with the corridors and the go-karts but in the general aesthetic. What’s different is that instead of violence and sadism we see a less graphic but more insidious type of tyranny, much more psychological in how its people are mistreated. Activities such as walking alone in the rain, wearing dark clothing and reading poetry (except poetry) are banned as unconducive to happiness, the result of which is that Terra Alpha is an utterly joyless place. In fact, it resembles 1984 in more ways than one, with the general drabness of this society echoing the late ‘40s Britain of rationing and gloom which partly inspired Orwell’s novel in the first place.
The sight of the Kandyman is a shock, though- how on Earth did the BBC avoid getting sued?
Part Two
“He makes sweets that kill people.”
The “drones” who work in the factories are demonstrating against the regime, while the indigenous people of the planet have been driven underground. The conditions for revolution are in place. But first the Doctor and Earl Sigma (whose white t-shirt and suit looks so 1988) must escape the Kandyman, who seems to have a lot of personality for an artificial being. It’s a great scene, with the Doctor using his wits and some lemonade to affect their escape.
As Susan Q is taken away to be executed, Priscilla P delivers the most horrifying line of the story to Ace, showing just what a conformist nightmare being in the Happiness Patrol must be: “She was never any good. She never had the right attitude. She never joined in. She wasn’t part of the team.” Stifling conformity and forced jollity; is there anything in the world as terrifying as that?
The Doctor gets another great moment, turning the tables on Trevor Sigma by sheer force of personality in a scene that manages to get away with being completely implausible by means of its extreme coolness. And mere minutes later he gets an even better one as he confronts the two snipers on the roof. This is a great story for the Doctor, and Sylvester McCoy plays these scenes brilliantly. I really like this new Doctor, with the contrasts between the cleverness and manipulative side on the one hand and the spoon playing and physical comedy on the other.
I love the bloke at the box office at the cliffhanger- such a typical example of British customer service.
Part Three
“I can hear the sound of empires toppling.”
“Everything’s beginning to fall into place,” says the Doctor. Revolution is imminent. Fifi is lured to her death, the factories are in open revolt, and Helen A is soon attempting to flee the planet. But there’s still time for a bit of comic relief as the Kandyman answers a retro looking telephone.
Helen A is unable to escape, as her shuttlecraft has been commandeered By Gilbert M and her partner Joseph P, who seem to be eloping together! Her final speech to the Doctor before she collapses into tears upon hearing about Fifi’s death is very strongly reminiscent of Thatcher.
This is a brilliant and very clever script superbly realised by a production style that quite correctly avoided realism in favour of the abstract. It would be easy to criticise this for this lack of realism, and especially for the use of a small cast in a story concerning the fate of an entire world, but that would be to miss the point. There are a couple of worries, however. The direction is a bit flat, but then again the fact that this is deliberately presented as televised theatre that would seem to be required. And I’m not sure taking such a boldly avant garde direction was an altogether wise move for a show which desperately needed to appeal more to a mainstream audience. In spite of its superficially childlike trappings, this is a very adult focused story, too; I’m not sure the story would appeal much to kids, many of whom would have probably seen it, ironically, as childish. I certainly did in 1988. But, all this aside, it still kicks arse. 5/5.
“Can’t you afford a real gun?”
Everything in this story is very obviously studio-based, with the studio floor prominent even in the early scenes set in a “street”. But this is only a problem if you’re expecting things to be “realistic”, and this story isn’t supposed to be. This is abstract theatre with a camera pointed at it, with sets and costumes to match. And it’s great.
The style of the streets, with a very “Big Brother” visible face on the wall, seems very reminiscent of Kneale and Cartier’s 1954 TV version of 1984. The planet of Terra Alpha is exactly this kind of totalitarian state, and the state persecution of those who refuse to conform by being “happy” works well as a metaphor for all sorts of things. I remember a lot of talk in mid-‘90s fanzines of this story being about Section 28; I don’t think there’s anything to indicate that was particularly intended, but it’s one of many valid interpretations.
As soon as the Doctor and Ace arrive they immediately start plotting regime change, and this story charts how the Doctor acts as a catalyst for the overthrow of Helen A’s regime over the course of a single evening. Helen A herself, played superbly by Sheila Hancock, is of course in no way based on Thatcher.
Visually and stylistically, this feels very similar to Vengeance on Varos, not only with the corridors and the go-karts but in the general aesthetic. What’s different is that instead of violence and sadism we see a less graphic but more insidious type of tyranny, much more psychological in how its people are mistreated. Activities such as walking alone in the rain, wearing dark clothing and reading poetry (except poetry) are banned as unconducive to happiness, the result of which is that Terra Alpha is an utterly joyless place. In fact, it resembles 1984 in more ways than one, with the general drabness of this society echoing the late ‘40s Britain of rationing and gloom which partly inspired Orwell’s novel in the first place.
The sight of the Kandyman is a shock, though- how on Earth did the BBC avoid getting sued?
Part Two
“He makes sweets that kill people.”
The “drones” who work in the factories are demonstrating against the regime, while the indigenous people of the planet have been driven underground. The conditions for revolution are in place. But first the Doctor and Earl Sigma (whose white t-shirt and suit looks so 1988) must escape the Kandyman, who seems to have a lot of personality for an artificial being. It’s a great scene, with the Doctor using his wits and some lemonade to affect their escape.
As Susan Q is taken away to be executed, Priscilla P delivers the most horrifying line of the story to Ace, showing just what a conformist nightmare being in the Happiness Patrol must be: “She was never any good. She never had the right attitude. She never joined in. She wasn’t part of the team.” Stifling conformity and forced jollity; is there anything in the world as terrifying as that?
The Doctor gets another great moment, turning the tables on Trevor Sigma by sheer force of personality in a scene that manages to get away with being completely implausible by means of its extreme coolness. And mere minutes later he gets an even better one as he confronts the two snipers on the roof. This is a great story for the Doctor, and Sylvester McCoy plays these scenes brilliantly. I really like this new Doctor, with the contrasts between the cleverness and manipulative side on the one hand and the spoon playing and physical comedy on the other.
I love the bloke at the box office at the cliffhanger- such a typical example of British customer service.
Part Three
“I can hear the sound of empires toppling.”
“Everything’s beginning to fall into place,” says the Doctor. Revolution is imminent. Fifi is lured to her death, the factories are in open revolt, and Helen A is soon attempting to flee the planet. But there’s still time for a bit of comic relief as the Kandyman answers a retro looking telephone.
Helen A is unable to escape, as her shuttlecraft has been commandeered By Gilbert M and her partner Joseph P, who seem to be eloping together! Her final speech to the Doctor before she collapses into tears upon hearing about Fifi’s death is very strongly reminiscent of Thatcher.
This is a brilliant and very clever script superbly realised by a production style that quite correctly avoided realism in favour of the abstract. It would be easy to criticise this for this lack of realism, and especially for the use of a small cast in a story concerning the fate of an entire world, but that would be to miss the point. There are a couple of worries, however. The direction is a bit flat, but then again the fact that this is deliberately presented as televised theatre that would seem to be required. And I’m not sure taking such a boldly avant garde direction was an altogether wise move for a show which desperately needed to appeal more to a mainstream audience. In spite of its superficially childlike trappings, this is a very adult focused story, too; I’m not sure the story would appeal much to kids, many of whom would have probably seen it, ironically, as childish. I certainly did in 1988. But, all this aside, it still kicks arse. 5/5.
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