Doctor Who: Lux

 "You're Scooby Doo!"

"Honey, I'm Velma..."

I suppose you could, at points, criticise this episode for bits of plot sleight of hand- for example, why does Lux manifest himself in that particular time and place? What's the cause? Is Lux's defeat perhaps a little too neat. Also, there will be those who say that the whole Pantheon thing is tired and, although they can only do episodes with a new "god" so many times before coming to the big conclusion, at this point I think it's basically fine. I like the Pantheon. It's fun.

And yes, there will be those who criticise the meta stuff, the most violence done to the fourth wall in Doctor Who since The Mind Robber. But let us not jump ahead. 

The opening sequence is of course superb, quickly giving us impressions of time and place: what could be more early '50s America than a monochrome cinema newsreel about the atom bomb followed by a cartoon? It's the atomic age, it's Miami... and suddenly Mr Ring-a-Ding starts addressing the audience and comes out of the screen. Brilliant.

The relationship between the Doctor and Belinda develops nicely, too. She's still very firm about getting home but much more open to being "one of his adventures" after her experiences here. And RTD squares this plot circle rather well here, with a machine that needs them to visit several places so the Doctor can "triangulate" in order to get to May 2025.

This is Miami, Florida, in 1952: the story has to address the appalling reality of segregation, but this is well handled, with a subtlety much more effective and hard hitting than would have been the case otherwise. And this is also used as a character moment. So, indeed, is the deliciously fourth-wall breaking moment where the increasingly sinister Mr Ring-a-Ding turns the Doctor and Belinda into cartoons... and they manage to become live action again by acquiring character "depth" so as not to be two-dimensional. Clever.

Of course, the fact that they still find themselves within a frame of film is a whole other level of metatextual because, of course, this is television. if we handwave away the fact that everything is digital nowadays, then... well, non-diegetically the characters always have been trapped in a frame of film and always will be.

And then... Doctor Who fans, who've been following the season and insist that the Doctor and Belinda are TV characters. I love this, and no only for the cheerful acknowledgement that fandom will never, ever rate any other story above Blink. Because this is actually quite philosophical, and evokes an ancient Chinese point about dreams- "Was I Chuang Tzu dreaming I was a butterfly, or am I now really a butterfly dreaming that I am Chuang Tzu?"

The decision that, actually, the Doctor and Belinda are real and the fans are not certainly seems arbitrary, but I'm assuming that all this metatextual stuff is going somewhere. After all, we've seen it before, both with Mrs Flood, whose comments here are certainly interesting, and in The Devil's Chord ("There's always a twist at the end") which is, of course, another Pantheon episode. All very interesting Is Mrs Flood also of the pantheon, "goddess" of reality, or stories?  But I also like the human touch shown here, the real yet humble pathos as the fans imagine they're about to vanish out of existence. It's nice to see them again at the end... although no, RTD, this does not make up for the cat last week.

Overall, then, this episode is crazy and brilliant and right up my street with all the meta stuff, with great production values and superb characterisation. But there's a caveat, of course: this needs to be going somewhere and the payoff has to be worthwhile. I suspect the finale will be more meta still...

Bernard and the Genie ( TV Film)

 "If you need anything, you just call and I'll be up there faster than a poker up a pervert."

For those of us who are of a certain age- and yes, it causes me a certain amount of distress to type those words- this excellent TV special is a hilarious memory of that telly Christmas of 1991 after Only Fools and Horses had finished. (Wasn't that the year in Miami?) Yet, in hindsight, this is a fascinating halfway house: a TV film by a recently post-Blackadder Richard Curtis, in a period when Blackadder was a justly worshipped recent memory, that would pave the way for his film career, which would prove to be at once increasingly successful and increasingly successful.

There's some sentiment here too. The bromance between Bernard and Josephus is deeper and more full of feeling than anything which the hilariously cynical Blackadder would have tolerated. Yet the opening scenes, where Bernard Bottle's high-flying life falls apart, are played purely for Blackadder-type laughs. As for Rowan Atkinson's delicious baddie... well, hiss ye, hiss ye. Oh, and nice beard,

Bernard is a sympatheic character- nice, naive, more than a little uncool, and portrayed with real comic charisma by an appallingly young Alan Cumming. And Lenny Henry really steals the show as Josephus, a characyer that could easily have been a stereotype but turns out to be a witty commentator on modern society- modern society being so very, very 1991, with even bloody Leonardo turning up, and I mean the chelonian kind.

But while this is, perhaps, plot-widse, a precursor to the sort of stuff Richard Curtis would go on to do. it's every bit as funny as Blackadder and absolutely the same sort of humour. This is a very, very good thing.

Anyway, Merry Christmas. Unless you're the sort of person who whinges that "we're not allowed to say Merry Christmas these days because of wokery and that", in which case, Happy Holidays.

Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

 “Please don't despise me!"

This is not the film I was expecting to see.

Around the time of the film's release I recall the critics were mildly disparaging of what they saw as a film about titillation and in which Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman exhibited suspiciously little chemistry for a married couple.

...All of which is utter bollocks, and a quick glance shows me the ritcal consensus has thankdully shifted somewhat. This is perhaps the pinnacle of Stanley Kubrick's career, a film dense with subtext far beyond what is apparent to me on a first viewing, and a film which actually treats sex as a serious part of life as opposed to something to giggle at.

The first half of the film is a meditation on monogamy vs polygamy, as the naive Dr Bill is tempted by various opportunities for extra-marital action while Alice confesses to her own sexual fantasies. The pivotal scene, a stoned bedroom argument, sees them both being somewhat naive and unwittingly purotanical as they skirt around the old gendered ideas that sex is something men, being active, do to women, who are passive. This is, of course, nonsense: even if we look at heterosexual coupling only, desire is no different between the sexes, just society's expectations. 

And then Dr Bill, constantly awkward with women, moves into the world of the elite, into what looks like a cross between a ritualistic sacrifice, a BDSM club, a religious ceremony and a dodgy secret society. There is much coupling, but Dr Bill is excluded. He, a medical doctor, is successful and well-off- yet he exists on a different plane from the decadence of the elite. And the scene where he is found out by men in truly terrifying masks is truly terrifying, as is the sense of tension that follows. So is the implication that a girl whose life he saved dies so that he may live- although he is offered a comforting fiction to believe.

The cinematography and direction is sublime, with wonderful use of colours to contrast the world of the mundane with the dark ways of the elite, and much in the way of disorienting use of the camera at appropriate momnts. The score, and that repetitive piece in particular, is not only very good indeed but perfectly integrated with the visuals.

There's so much going on here- musings on monogamy; the objectification of women; the intersection of sex with money and power; so much more. This is cinema of the very first rank.

The Airzone Solution

“Have I been scintillating company?”

 Unexpectedly, Amazon Prime is now showing- complete with subtitles- this interesting little piece of wilderness years nostalgia for us Doctor Who fans. It isn't Doctor Who, of course- in 1993 that existed only in a rather good set of novels. But it's made by fans, and stars no fewer than four doctors plus Nicola Bryant- and a very young Alan Cumming in a henchman role. And, most importantly, it’s a bloody gripping environmental thriller to boot, belying it’s low budget.

It’s very 1993, of course. From the opening music to a couple of jarring instances of casual racism that wouldn’t happen nowadays (Ellie does an arse-clenching  Chinese accent after a takeaway, and there’s an equally arse-clenching exchange about “big chief”, “pow wow” and “heap”.), but most of all it’s fascinating  to see how the perceived problems of the environment have changed over the past 26 years- incredibly, global warming isn’t even mentioned; the threat is pollution and- nostalgia alert!- the ozone layer. Remember that?

Jon Pertwee, as he often did later in life, phones it in. But Peter Davison is superb as a crusading journalist, while Sylvester McCoy shines in a slightly under-prominent role as an environmental activist. But the indisputable star is the superb Colin Baker as weatherman Arnie, a nice guy forced against his nature to resist the nefarious Airzone Solution, a very ‘90s exemplar of private sector greed from an age when Thatcherism was still very much a thing. This is an obscure bit of fandom drama, but something obscure can nevertheless be bloody good.

Doctor Who: The Witchfinders

“If I was still a bloke, I could get on with the job and not have to waste time defending myself!"

A very good episode but, par for the course this season, lacking in the stuff of greatness. Still very good, but no more. And it’s becoming worryingly clear that the series doesn’t seem to aspire to that under Chibnall. But is this just my expectations, having come in recent years to appreciate the depths of writing of an RTD and a Moffat, while Chibnall is focused on creating a family show that appeals to kids, and successfully at that? Am I, a 41 year old fan, the target audience, as I was for Moffat? Should I be?

The episode is genuinely good and the new writer- Joy Wilkinson- is one I’d be happy to see again. The history is a little vague (characters called “Willa” and “Becca”?) and suggestive of a younger audience than we were used to in the recent past, but the plot is solid, even if the resolution is rushed; Pendle Hill being an ancient prison for some rather well-realised alien villains is a fun concept. And the of course there’s Alan Cumming’s superb performance as King James VI and I, a portrayal that rings very true for this highly intelligent, intellectually lazy, psychologically damaged king who took refuge in absolutism and boys. Oh, and in not suffering a witch to live. Especially that.

Jimmy One is clearly well-researched; indeed, we get a whole scene with Ryan (naturally, Jimmy takes a shine to him) comparing their hard childhoods which shows off the research splendidly. And I also love the big chat he gets with the Doctor just before she faces the ducking stool.

It’s perfect that a story about witch hunts- the ultimate in misogyny- should be the first to really explore just how different things are for the Doctor when stripped of her male privilege. She is patronised, disbelieved, her very title mocked, with Graham having to stand in as figurehead. Yes, on the whole it’s rather good. But yet again it stops short of wowing me and the season so far is no better on the whole than “good enough”. I like the new Doctor, the new format, the new characters. I approve of the reorientation towards a family audience. And this tabloid nonsense about “PC plots” is just silly. But can we have some brilliance in the writing please? So far, every season since the show returns, I’ve liked some series more than others, and not all episodes have been good. But you could always be confident that an episode of sheer brilliance would turn up soon-ish. Is that still the case?

X-Men 2 (2003)

"Bobby, have you tried not being a mutant?"

It's rare for a sequel to outshine its predecessor; X-Men 2, helmed again by Bryan Singer (whose reputation has suffered post-Weinstein, as have many, and such behavior in this and all other industries cannot be tolerated, but let us not derail ourselves) may well have achieved it with this adaptation of God Loves, Man Kills.

As per the comics, the film gives us a well-rounded and well-written set of characters, all well-acted and many of whom, handily, have already been introduced. Good writing means that the sheer number of characters does not feel excessive, although I wonder if someone less familiar with the source material would say the same.

While Wolverine is still prominent- and hints are dropped about his origins- there is a much more equal treatment of the characters this time around. Nightcrawler is introduced, and in many ways true to form, but it's a pity that the character's sense of humour is so downplayed. Rogue is more peripheral this time, but the love triangle of Scott, Jean and Logan is very much still there.

Magneto is magnificent and, while allied with the goodies for much of the film, gets his chance to be evil for a bit near the end. Xavier is shown as reasonable and charming, and once again we forgot just how bloody terrifying his mind control powers are. Bobby Drake is well-developed, wit the pathos of his brother betraying him just after he outs himself to his parents. Pyro, of course, joins Magneto's lot. And, of course, Jean dies at the end just as she did in the comics a few issues before returning as Phoenix.

Among all the action and set pieces- I love the epic fight between Wolverine and Lady Deathstrike- there are also plenty of character moments, and the film is gripping throughout. This instalment will be hard to top.