Des: Episode 3

 "I could never have stopped..."

And it ends with a highly dramatic and entertaining courtroom drama, with twists and turns throughout until we reach the relief of the guilty verdict, a majority (but not all) of the jury rejecting Nielsen's claims of diminished responsibility.

Yet there's more to it that that. This is a deeply ethical episode of television that focuses heavily on the suffering of the victims, and those who mourn them. Neither we nor Peter Jay can fault the anger of the widow who's ex is not getting justice. Then there's Carl, a deeply traumatised survivor, who endures vile homophobic abuse not only outside the court but inside the witness box.

Also, though, it becomes disturbingly clear how Nilsen is controlling the whole narrative, despite the outcome, everything proceeding on his terms, including his acceptance of the verdict. And it's satisfying to see Brian Masters not only come to realise this, but to assert control in how he frames his biography, firmly stating that it's not about Nilsen's ego, but a "warning".

Nilsen may be charming when he wants to be, he may be unassuming. He may quote Cervantes. But he's also a deeply controlling monster who destroyed lives and caused untold suffering. This drama, and this final episode, examine this superbly and tastefully.

And, yet again, David Tennant is magnificent.

Des: Episode 2

 "Death gives no refunds..."

Yes, I know, I don't usually blog the same programme on consecutive days, but this time I have, so nyeeer. Something different next time, though, I promise!

Another superb bit of telly here, and another superlative performance from David Tennant, adding further layers. Dennis Nilsen is still the paradoxical monster with principles from last episode, yet this time he's more sinister and controlling... indeed, a very controlling man, co-operating (or not) on his own terms. It was he who complained about his drains in the first place, wanting to be caught: he's been trying to curate the whole thing. And then the curveball at the end, as the trial begins and he unexpectedly tries to plead not guilty.

Yet at the same time he's... well, DI Peter Jay describes him to the press as "unassuming". And this is nevertheless a man who loves his dog. Brian Masters uncovers certain things about Nilsen's past for his book (a real book, which no doubt garnered many extra sales from this series), but quite rightly resists the urge to draw conclusions. And Masters' own motives eventually become clear: the definitive book on Nilsen's crimes must come from within the gay community in such deeply homophobic times.

The other cause of conflict here is Peter's desire to identify all fifteen victims and the reality that the police are a public service like any other and must justify their costs. With six victims identified... six murders will put Nilsen behind bars forever. It's the right decision, awful though it is, to end the investigation there. But, after they identify a seventh victim too late to prosecute, we see the human cost as Peter has to explain this to the devastated widow. This series refuses to glamorise the killer and puts the victims first, always.

If anything, this episode is even better than the first. Very impressive indeed.

Des: Episode 1

 "How didn't we know?"

The first thing to say about this dramatisation of the investigation into the appalling crimes of Dennis Nilsen is that David Tennant is utterly spellbinding as this calm, seemingly ordinary and unassuming, polite and even cultured man who committed fifteen violent murders. The character is, of course, fascinating- a disarmingly articulate, thoughtful monster, by no means without compassion for his victims ("This bloody government does nothing for them"), with an integrity of sorts and determined to assist the police in unearthing the truth as well as he can, even to the point of dismissing his solicitor. And yet... a monster.

Yet also at fault is the harsh, uncaring nature of London in the early 1980s. Far from its roads being paved with gold, it sucks in the young and vulnerable, exploits and abuses them... to the point where fifteen young men can disappear and not be missed.

Also interesting is DI Peter Jay (it annoys me that the programme has journalists address him as "detective" rather than "inspector", which didn't and doesn't happen in the UK, especially as the attention to detail seems very good), a very human copper whose wife won't let him see his kids seemingly for no good reason. And then there's Jason Watkins' interesting Brian Masters, who seems not only fascinated by this young serial killer but determined to understand him.

A promising start, then, very wisely showing everything from the point of view of the investigation. Yet the moment that lingers in the mind is one of deep humanity, as Stephen Sinclair's parents learn the unthinkable truth of what happened to their son. And that's this episode's big strength- that focus on humanity over sensationalism.

1917 (2019)

 "Am I dying?"

"Yes, yes, I think you are."

Wow. How else can I begin? This film is at once a tour de force of cinematography, an epic quest that is at times both dreamlike and almost evocative of Lord of the Rings... and profoundly, deeply, realistic. It's a profound work of the cinematic art that will linger in my mind. And I'm sure there are subtexts and metaphors which have just swooshed right over my head.

The cinematography, by the great Roger Deakin, is sublimre, giving us a textured world that feels at once both of its time and utterly real. The first few minutes, from the field right through the trenches and what must be a cavernous set, are apparently a single shot... and the feat is repeated again and again as Schofield and Blake traverse the bleak sights of No Man's Land on their desperate mission.

The War and its very real horrors are superbly evoked- the rats, the mud, the fear, the grim humour, the bloody awful food, the normalisation of violent death. The dialogue feels real So do the characters- we get to know Blake and Schofield very well, and Schofield's slow metamorphosis from reluctance to absolute determination is well-earned and feels real.

And yet... there is also, somehow, a mythic element here, an epic quest, a kind of Odyssey, a picaresque tale of wanderings. It is hard not to see the cherry trees as metaphor- cut down in their prime, but they will grow again. And the poor orphaned baby, with milk from Schofield, is another sign that out of death comes rebirth. And yet, at the same time, war is unremittingly grim.

An extraordinary work of genius. Literally my only criticism is of Colin Firth's moustache.

Good Omens: In the Beginning

”Welcome to the end times..”

I've read the novel of Good Omens. In fact, I've read it half a dozen times, which puts it right up there with Life, the Universe and Everything. So you could say I'm the kind of fanboy you'd expect would be hard to please, except Neil Gaiman himself is showrunning this (Sir Terry being sadly unable to join him), and the cast looked mouth-watering. So, especially now I've obviously seen it, let us not pretend I'm not going to be saying I like this.

Because, well, even before we start it's clear that the source material is superb, and David Tennant as Crowley is the most appropriate casting choice since Robert Downey Jr as Tony Stark. But Michael Sheen as Azirophale is equally superb; Sheen is one of those actors who doesn't seem to have a style but simply to inhabit the character he's playing like a true chameleon, whether it's Tony Blair, David Frost or a moderate angel who is good mates with his fellow centrist from downstairs.

It all looks great, with loads of CGI, and it's a good way of structuring a first episode, with the backstory of, well, creation, but also of the ancient friendship between Crowley and Azirophale, and then straight into the old pastiche of The Omen. There are some nice additions, too. God as a narrator is a great idea, as is her gender. Jon Hamm as Heavenly middle manager Gabriel is inspired too, being to Aziraphale what Hastur and Ligur are to Crowley, and a bloody funny character too. The humour from the novel is translated intact, but the new stuff it just as funny. An excellent start.

Doctor Who: Night Terrors

“Today, we’re answering a cry for help from the scariest place in the universe: a child’s bedroom.”

You might have noticed that my weekly Torchwood and Doctor Who reviews are somewhat late this weekend. This is because I spent yesterday at the rather splendid Whooverville convention in Derby. And after the excellent day’s entertainment had finished and some beer had been drunk, it was time to sit down at 7pm and watch Doctor Who, on a big screen, with my mates and loads of other fans- the best way to watch it! But fear not, my readers- I’ve just rewatched it with subtitles and written up my notes…

Richard Clark is a bloody brilliant director. The opening shots are amazing, and really looked magnificent on a big screen. The whole aesthetic is fascinating, too; taking a rather run-down 1960s housing block, complete with bin bags across a wall, and make it look both scary and beautiful. It succeeds at both brilliantly, and the direction really brings out the scariness right through the episode.

Living on the estate is a little boy called George, who seems to be afraid of everything, including, we’re told, pants. So scared, in fact, that his pleas for help against the “monsters” reach the TARDIS and the Doctor’s psychic paper.

The Doctor, Amy and Rory split up and, in some very funny intercut scenes in which Arthur Darvill shines in particular, get to meet the neighbours. We’re introduced to Mrs Rossiter, whom George thinks is a witch, and to the extremely nasty landlord, Jim Purcell, with his threatening pit-bull, Bernard. More about him later.

George, unfortunately, overhears Rory joking that “Maybe we should just let the monsters gobble him up?”. Seconds later, Rory and Amy find themselves taking a much faster and scarier trip in a lift than they had intended. Mrs Rossiter, meanwhile, is swallowed by some bin bags. I can think of no other TV series in which that could happen!

Amy and Rory discover themselves to be somewhere else, somewhere very dark and more than a little odd. They’re uncertain about where they are (I love Rory’s “We’re dead. Again.”). It seems to be a big but featureless house, with a massive glass eye in a drawer (urgh!), wooden pots and pans and electric candles. It’s all very mysterious, but the clues are there…

The Doctor tries to bond with George (I loved the fan-pleasing reference to “Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday”), and establishes that everything that scares George is put into the cupboard? The suspense is ramped up to unbearable levels, but just as the Doctor is about to open the door, he’s interrupted by some loud knocking.

Alex opens the door to the bullying Purcell, and we get a glimpse of a parallel and perhaps worse terror. Alex, we learn, is unemployed, and Claire’s wages are not enough to pay the rent. None of this is resolved by the end; Purcell is still their landlord. It seems to be implied that the family may be in the early stages of a Cathy Come Home-style spiral of descent into poverty and eventual homelessness. If this is even partly correct, then the apparent happy ending we eventually see may well be illusory, and George may end up being taken away after all.

Back to fears of a more fantastic kind, though, the Doctor scans the cupboard, and discovers that George’s monsters are real. Things are getting creepy for Amy and Rory, too; children’s laughter has never seemed so scary. There’s something very Sapphire and Steel about this thread of the story.

Alex eventually asks the Doctor to leave, but is unable to. For all that these scenes are played for laughs, it’s clear that Alex is rather a weak personality- and so, from what we see of her, is Claire. None of this bodes well for the family’s future.

Amy and Rory are perhaps too eager to open their cupboard downstairs, but all they find is a horrible old doll. At first, it seems to be eerie but harmless. The cupboard, upstairs, though, after some further scenes of tension, turns out to be empty. But then the Doctor discovers something odd about the family photos; Claire photographed a fortnight before giving birth to George, is clearly not pregnant. This confuses Alex, and he blurts out that “Claire can’t have kids.” we realise two things: firstly, George is not what we thought, and secondly, he has been there all the time, listening. The room starts to shake, and the Doctor and Alex are pulled into the cupboard.

Purcell gets a hard time, too; George has heard him being nasty to his Dad, and he is pulled under the ground to the doll’s house. Amy and Rory see him there, being chased by dolls and, in a horribly memorable scene, see him being turned into one of them. These dolls are one of the best Doctor Who monsters ever, in both concept and execution. They’re simply terrifying. It’s not just the faceless, decayed appearance of the faces, but the slow advance, the childish voices and the nursery rhymes.

Amy and Rory are trapped in a room by advancing dolls, but Amy works out that the only solution is to open the door and push past. This sort of works, but Amy is caught, and turned into one of them: a terrifying moment.

The Doctor works out that the cupboard is a repository for all of George’s fears; everything that terrifies George is in there with them. It’s odd that there should be a doll’s house in the house, mind- George is a boy- but there we are. It seems that George is a Tenza (why not re-use the concept of an Isolus from Fear Her? Perhaps that’s an episode the production team would like to forget…), an alien “cuckoo” who has instinctively created a perception filter around the circumstances of his birth. The Doctor shouts to George to try and stop it, and the advancing dolls stop. And then start again, because George fears rejection. Alex soon sorts this out by running to his son, and the episode seems to end happily. But does it? What happens if the family get evicted and bad things keep following on…?

At last, a truly first class script from Mark Gatiss and probably the scariest story since The Time of Angels.