The Theory of Everything (2014)

"While there is life, there is hope."

I'm quite familiar with Stephen Hawking's career from reading both his biography and A Brief History of Time, both a considerable number of ears ago and t was inevitable, I suppose, that a major film should be made about his life and relationship with Jane; as we can see from A Theory of Everything, the events of Hawking's life are extremely well suited to being dramatised; it's not surprising that the film is bloody good. But what is surprising is that the performance from then-newcomer Eddie Redmayne is so utterly transcendent. At last I can see what the fuss was about. The Oscar is well-deserved.
Redmayne excels both as the awkward young man and as the older Hawking in his iconic chair.

The film starts with a shot of said iconic wheelchair and then immediately flashes back to the young Hawking riding a bicycle through the colleges of Cambridge in 1963- quite an effective contrast- on the day he meets Jane, and the film shows the development of his relationship with Jane, his meteoric career and the terrible gradual progress of his motor neuron disease. He's given two years to live, and that seems normal for the condition; I'm led to wonder why it is that he's fortunately survived for all these years.

The film shows us Hawking's stubborn, ambitious, attractively humorous and non-self-pitying personality but also the awful pressures on Jane of looking after Stephen with three small children in tow. The pressures on their relationship are shown with sympathy. It's also wonderful to see his colleagues treating him as normally as possible, a real sign of respect.

There are some nice directorial touches, with a cup of coffee symbolising a black hole, but the film rightly stands on its performances and the emotional heart of its story. This is a superb film.

Game of Thrones: Season 1, Episode 2 ("The Kingsroad")

"A mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone."

I blogged the first episode of Game of Thrones on 18th September 2015 so... yeah. There won't be quite as long before episode three. Promise.

I'm still getting a handle on the setting; this is a fantasy world with only light fantasy elements- so far we've seen dragon eggs but dragons appear to be semi-mythical, and dire wolves seem not to be overtly supernatural. It's a gritty, realistic mediaeval world which is obviously going to focus on the power games surrounding the eponymous throne, and I've heard that this is based on both the Wars of the Roses and the Anarchy of the twelfth century. But Robert Baratheon is certainly no Henry VI; I'm not sure how strong a king he is but he appears laddish yet weighed down by kingship. I suspect he's not all that long for this world, given the apparent premise of the series.

Daenerys is interesting in the sense that she's getting a lot of screen time and her situation- marital rape in the context of semi-forced marriage- is horrific and surely would not be depicted so prominently if she were not eventually to end up powerful and fortunate in spite of it. Her brother claims Robert's throne. Hmm.

Meanwhile, Robert's only son Joffrey is a right little sod, as his behaviour towards Arya and her poor friend illustrates. Sansa is happy enough to marry him, but then she'll be queen. She's so motivated towards this that she's ready to lie under oath about her sister. But I suppose that being queen- a glorified womb- is the best a woman can hope for in this society. Certainly Arya's tomboyish ways are a fascinating way to explore the theme of what we can't really call feminism.

And then there's Tyrion. He's still a sot and a shagger, but there's a more intellectual side, too; he may be a semi-outcast just because he's a dwarf but, crude and direct though he is, he isn't shallow. And his relationship with the literal bastard Jon Snow (not yet a Channel 4 newsreader) is interesting. Jon, a very naive bastard, is off to devote his entire life to guarding the northern walls from whatever lies beyond, which none of his legitimately born relatives would presumably stoop to. Ned is proud but, when he says That "When we next meet, I'll tell you about your mother" I'm left suspecting that, one way or another, they won't ever meet again. Let's see if I'm right.

Meanwhile Catelyn Stark is keeping watch over the thankfully not-dead Bran but, after being attacked, she's off to tell her husband about her suspicions regarding the Lannisters. And, while she's away, Bran wakes- and he knows too much. Why do I get the feeling that the immediate future of the Stark family is not set to be a happy one?

Absolutely superb telly, this.

Wolf Hall: Episode 2- Entirely Beloved

"The Pope will learn his place"

It's December 1529. Cromwell is stubbornly loyal to the doomed Wolsey in spite of the total lack of hope. Wolsey is a tragic, declining figure, and his metaphorical death inevitably translates into a real death before the end of the episode. It's interesting to see how Cromwell re-aligns his allegiances- to his co-religionist Anne Boleyn- without betraying his principles. This is also a sign, of course, of the growing impact of the Reformation in England. More may still be burning heretics, but the King's desire for a divorce that the Pope will never give is a huge opportunity for the Protestant cause, and they know it.

Rylance continues to give us a masterclass in acting, with every gesture and every expression suggesting a depth and interiority. Thomas Cromwell is a fascinating and multi-layered character. Awkward but loving with his son, bold (but not too bold) with his admiring King, this is a man who is humble in his personal life and yet bold, if not foolhardy, when it comes to his beliefs. 

Mark Gatiss' Gardiner is deliciously slimy, although I'm not sure that Anton Lesser gives us a sufficiently principled More. This is the episode where he resigns as Lord Chancellor out of deep principle; I'm not sure that Lesser's playing the part as a blustering hard man quite works.

The episode climaxes with Cromwell's being summoned into the Royal presence in the dead of life. This is the court of Henry VIII, and such a summons can mean death, but no: this is opportunity. Cromwell's interpretation of the King's dream to mean that he, not the Pope, should be head of the Church manages to further both Cromwell's own interests and those of this cause.

Wolf Hall: Episode 1- Three Card Trick

"Never mind who that is. It's nobody."

So, how many different TV series am I blogging at the moment? Anyway, here's another one.

It's somewhat odd watching this so relatively soon after I blogged The Tudors, covering roughly the same historical period and therefore consisting of much the same event and the same characters portrayed by a different cast. There are significant differences, though. This is no melodrama but a serious adaptation of two works of literary fiction, and there's a more realistic attitude to sets and costume, and a. much artier directorial style. The use of candlelight for the indoor scenes is particularly superb.

This episode, centred on the beginning of Wolsey's fall but using extensively non-linear storytelling to make heavy use of flashbacks, introduces us to both Thomas Cronwell the fascinatingly nuanced character and to Mark Rylance, an actor of the very first rank who rarely deigns to appear on screen. He's every bit as good here as his theatrical reputation. Other stand-outs are a world-weary Jonathan Pryce as Wolsey and a delightfully sinister Mark Gatiss as Stephen Gardiner.

There's a lot of emphasis on class, Cromwell's humble beginnings and his lack of nobility- we even meet his abusive and very working class father. Indeed, it is Wolsey's earlier snobbery towards the Boleyn family that ultimately causes his downfall, or so it is strongly implied, although on the other hand we also get a rather handy bit of exposition from Gardiner about Charles V's Habsburg hordes marching on Rome to make the Pope their bitch, ensuring Henry VIII has sod all chance of divorcing Charles' aunt.

I'm sure this theme will continue to develop, as well as the obvious theme of the upcoming English Reformation. Cromwell's Protestant leanings are hidden for now; the irony of his being so loyal to the Cardinal is, I'm sure, not lost on a single viewer.

The main "event" of the episode is, of course, the sudden and horrible death of Cromwell's wife and two daughters from the sweating sickness. This is shot and acted in order to give us maximum sympathy for Cromwell. I hope none of us ever have to imagine such suffering. It's a superb sequence of scenes.

Things end on an uncertain note. Wolsey is, of course, finished, but has Cromwrll somehow saved his career by impressing the King by some intelligent cheekines? We shall see how it happens. But what is certain is that this promises to be a very impressive little series.

Game of Thrones: Season 1, Episode 1 ("Winter is Coming")

"Do the dead frighten you?"

Doctor Who starts again tomorrow. Yay! And I'm blogging so many other series at the moment, some at an embarrassingly slow pace- Sherlock, Marvel's Agents of SHIELD, Marvel's Agent Carter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Grimm, the Quatermass serials, Daredevil, and Penny Dreadful. There's nothing else for it: I'm going to have to start blogging another long-running series.

A few words before we start: you know that feeling of missing out on an important piece of popular culture by not being there at the start? And then, year by year, the season's roll along and there are more and more episodes to catch up on. And yet... how can I call myself a geek if I don't at least make an effort with Game of Thrones? Breaking Bad can wait. Especially as the first episode features a beheading, incestuous sex and a dwarf receiving a blow job.

I start out almost completely unspoiled; I'm trying to read the novels at the same pace to see how things diverge, but at this point I know nothing except the "red wedding", a massacre of unknown characters at someone's nuptials which I know will occur at some point. I also know that it's loosely based on the Wars of the Roses and will be looking for signs of this. Other than that I know nothing. So let's start.

It's an HBO show, so we can expect quality, and it certainly looks awesome. The cast is impressive, too: there are only so many tags at the bottom there and I've not been able to include the likes of Roger Allam or Donald Sumpter.

We are in the land of Westeros, ruled by a King Robert I. This land looks like mediaeval Europe and peoples' names are almost, but not quite, English. We begin in the northernmost province of Winterfell, ruled over by Lord Eddard Stark, played by Sean Bean in his native Yorkshire accent. It's a nice conceit, done consistently, to have the "southern" characters speak RP while the northerners speak in such a way as to make it very clear that this planet has a North.

We're clearly meant to feel that ominous tidings are afoot. Demonic and undead creatures are seen at the northern edge of the world, while Eddard Stark keeps banging on about the fact that "Winter is coming" which, I suspect, is meant to be both literal and metaphorical.

Plotting and skulduggery is rife at court, with the king's "hand" having recently been murdered, probably by Queen Cersei's brothers, Jaime Lannister and Teyin Lannister who is, incidentally, a dwarf (a short human, not the bearded, digging kind), and received said blow job. The king (and entourage) this visits Eddard to offer him the position, which he eventually accepts in the full knowledge that he is headed into a pit of vipers. 

He certainly has: Eddard's younger son Bran, seeing Cersei and Jaime, who are twins, shagging each other, is suddenly defenestrated to death, which is not a phrase I've ever had previous cause to use.

Meanwhile, across the sea, Luke's Prince Viseys, who also claims the throne. He's a thoroughgoing bastard, and we are most certainly meant to think so: his first act in the programme is to force his sister to marry a brutal and lecherous warlord.

This is pretty faithful to the novel, looks good and is very fast moving. I'll need a while to get to know the characters but this is a promising start.

The Devil's Whore: Episode 1

"Both armies gave thanks to the same God for the same victory."

I loved this when it was first broadcast in 2007 and I loved it when rewatching it for the blog. It's a neglected gem; a magnificent cast and a script by the people behind Our Friends in the North. The English Civil War is a sadly neglected period in our history, which us a shame; it's a pivotal moment in English and British history and the tribal origins of both right and left in this country; this series is particularly interested in that aspect, and particularly in the heritage of the English left, whether Whig, Liberal or Labour, which has always reminisced about the "Good Old Cause".

The whole thing hangs on Andrea Riseborough's extraordinary performance  as Angelica Fanshawe at a time when she seemed to be all over the telly; remember her turn as the Evil One in BBC4's Long Walk to Finchley? She is exactly what this series needs; quirky yet likeable, with the charisma to be the necessary female need in a series unavoidably crammed with men.

Angelica begins as an aristocratic lady, unthinkingly in the midst of what we can anachronistically call the ancien regime. Angelica knows King Charles I vaguely, but her cousin, best friend and soon to be husband (this is, after all, the aristocracy), is a good mate of the very bizarre Prince Rupert.

Angelica's cousin and husband soon proves that his sexual politics are quite as reactionary as his class politics; in insisting that Angelica be silent in bed he not only shows himself to be crap in bed but gives us a pretty neat metaphor for the patriarchal repression of women.

Angelica has a kind of childlike innocence and a weirdness that makes her a fascinating character, although her vaguely non-Christian spiritualism is arguably a bit anachronistic. Our other audience identification character is the much more grounded and plebeian Edward Sexby, splendidly portrayed by the great John Simm. Sexby is a true everyman, if a somewhat violent and blood-soaked one, an uneducated but thinking centrist whose allegiances shift with his conscience. Any resemblance to the historical Edward Sexby is purely coincidental.

Yet to come into his own at this point is possibly the greatest ever Englishman, John Lilburne, played with an accurately Mackem accent (I'm married to a Geordie) by Tom Goodman-Hill. Dominic West, similarly, uses a very correct East Anglian accent as Oliver Cromwell, who is portrayed very accurately; religiously independent and politically conservative without being (to use a very slight archaism) remotely Tory. There have always been plenty of Cromwells in the Labour Party, of course. West's delivery of his speech defending Lilburne is, however, probably the best thing in what is a superb episode.

The slow descent into civil war is nicely done, with the camera at Edge Hill showing an almost abrasively sunny environment. We see the likes of Cronwell and the side-switching Sexby in the chaotic environment of battle and we get a good look at Michael Fassbender's Thomas Rainsborough who is, unlike Cromwell, a true radical.

The climax features Angelica, I'm the face of Roundhead beseigers, showing considerably more cojones than her foppish husband, only to be castigated by an arrogant Charles for her disobedience to male authority just before she watches her husband.'a execution pour encourager les autres. It is, appropriately, the end of the first chapter and a truly excellent forty-give minutes of television.

Henry IV, Part I (Richard Eyre, 2012)

"Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world!"

"I do. I will."

I'd never seen or read this play before, this English graduate sheepishly admits. There are rather a lot of them, and those pesky academics are pushing to include more and more to the fortyish plays. For the record, I've seen or red fourteen including this one. That said, it's surprising, as ever, how much of this play, a lot of it concerning Falstaff, was familiar.

That gives me a bit of a challenge. When I reviewed Julius Caesar and Richard II I was discussing the production rather than the play, which I already knew. I'll endeavour to keep this review in that same spirit, but I hope you'll forgive me a small digression on my first impressions of the play.

The play continues the theme of kingship from Richard II, with Henry IV, a usurper, plagued by guilt and incipient rebellion. Fascinatingly, there are two pairs of doubles who dominate the play. The dour, guilt-ridden, dutiful, rebellion-plagued Henry is contrasted with the fun-loving, cheerfully cynical but emotionally vulnerable Falstaff, giving Prince Hal two polar opposites as "fathers". Meanwhile, Hal, a dissolute young man who contains greatness within him, and is much cannier than he looks, is contrasted against the brave, honourable but impulsive and not-too-bright Hotspur. We get a lot of foreshadowing that Hal will put away childish things when he starts, er, kinging, and that he will, indeed, on that day, banish plump Jack and banish all the world. Hotspur, in getting himself and a lot of people pointlessly killed, illustrates, I suppose, that Hal's strategy, if we can call it, of making himself seem to be a bit of a waster so he can surprise everyone, is a good idea. Although robbery is perhaps pushing it a bit far.

Underlying this is a sense that something is rotten in the state of England; Henry's speech about rebels at the climax, given his own actions, rings hollow, and it is the rebels, not him, who speak of honour. The only hope lies in the next generation.

Interesting, then, that this more rotten England gets a far grittier and more lived-in mediaeval look than did Richard II, which seemed much more on the High Middle Ages. We get constant contrasts between earthy taverns and a cold, grey, empty, joyless castle which really emphasises, in the use of setting, how this play cuts between two very different worlds, one joyless and rooted in a terrible sin, the other merry but ultimately without honour or values. For all it's japes, and its sack, and its misguided honour, this is an England that has lost its way. It's notable that the final battle is shot mainly in close shots to give a sense of confusion, chaos and claustrophobia. There's bitter snow, and fog clouding everything. The battle is won, but things are not right. This generation has failed, and the throne itself is still in question.

Jeremy Irons is superb as the recast, older, rather depressed Henry IV, who has gained only misery by seizing the throne. Simon Russell Beale, my first Falstaff, made me fall in love with the character and want to see more interpretations. But I suspect it's Tom Hiddleston, Loki himself, who will make the biggest impression over the three plays. There are broad hints of how his character will develop, and I'm looking forward to what happens with his performance. Perhaps it's the battle scene, more even than the play-acting in the tavern, that points the way. This is not Falstaff's world, but Hal belongs.

Doctor Who: Human Nature / Family of Blood

“No man should hide himself, don’t you think?”

I distinctly recall the first time I read Paul Cornell’s original novel. It was the autumn of 2002, I was about to start my third year at university, and I was the first to arrive in our new student house for the year. I spent the next forty-eight hours waiting for people to arrive, and had devoured the whole thing by the time they arrived. Being alone in a house with lots of noises from outside doesn’t half make for an atmosphere, and the book made quite an impression on me.

All of which is quite irrelevant, of course. The televised version is quite different, taking place over a much shorter time period, the meaning of the events to the regular characters are entirely different, and the pacifistic subtext has been considerably softened. But it’s just as great.

The pre-titles sequence is extraordinarily pacey and sets us up in the middle of events with skilful economy. It also packs quite a punch. The concept is utterly fantastic; the perfect Doctor-lite story, albeit one featuring David Tennant rather heavily. The Doctor is entirely absent for most of the episode, and yet at all times he’s the centre of attention. The structure of the narrative is also brilliant, with the use of flashbacks telling us all we need to know of the backstory while keeping exposition to the bare minimum.

The setting, a public school in 1913, is very interesting. The story doesn’t dwell on why the Doctor’s plan had to involve this particular setting, but it’s notable (if hardly an original observation) that the Doctor, in all his guises, has always had a particular fondness for the Edwardian era. It’s also singularly appropriate that he should be a history teacher. On the other hand, things are quite appallingly inconvenient for Martha, forced to live a life of drudgery and social restriction as Smith’s maid. This is dealt with well, though, and Martha gets the best character development that she gets all season. The depiction of the racism of the period is extremely well-judged; we get just the one overt moment of nastiness with Hutchinson’s comments, but there’s plenty of more subtle prejudice from the likes of Joan and even Smith, characters whom we find largely sympathetic but who are nevertheless of their time.

And then there’s the English public school setting, of course. To some it’s a formative experience; to a state educated oik like me it’s a part of popular culture, understood through the medium of the Jennings books, Lindsay Anderson’s If… and Stephen Fry’s autobiography; all this gives me an entirely accurate impression, I’m sure. I suppose introducing the building to the strains of To Be a Pilgrim is something of a cliché, but then some clichés are too good to resist.

Jessica Hines is fantastic as Joan, as of course is Tennant as Smith, and combined with one of the finest scripts the programme has ever offered the depiction of their relationship is extraordinary, with more layers revealing themselves with every viewing. There’s not much comedy in these episodes, but I love the early scenes of Joan flirting with a terrified John Smith.

Martha’s jealous of Joan, of course, and in fact this is the only story in the entire season which makes me almost forget that I think this whole infatuation subplot is a mistake. That’s a sign of a very good script.

Also very good is Harry Lloyd as Baines, both before and after he’s possessed. And isn’t invisibility such a wonderfully cost-effective way of realising an alien spaceship?

Only when the status quo is fully established do we get the full backstory and the introduction of the Chameleon Arch, no doubt a one-off McGuffin which will never be heard from again. And the “You are not alone” which we hear as Timothy takes the watch is, I’m sure, of no importance. There’s nothing to see here. Move along.

The baddies are quite effective; the scarecrows are great, of course, and the little girl with the red balloon is quite as sinister as she is in the novel. I love that nice little musical tribute we get to the similar character in Remembrance of the Daleks as she walks along a country lane.

Crikey, there’s so much going on that’s worthy of comment. The scene with Smith supervising the boys at “corps”, as I believe it’s called, is just dripping with meaning and subtext, this being 1913. “I hope, Latimer,” says the headmaster, “that one day you will have a just and proper war in which to prove yourself”. A war which would eventually not in fact be directed against “tribesmen from the Dark Continent”. I have to admit, though- in accepting machine guns the headmaster seems at least to be more forward-thinking than Field Marshal Haig would prove to be…

Oh, and of course there’s “Permission granted”. A brave move, but absolutely the right one in context.

Just before everything blows up, we get some wonderful stuff between Smith and Joan. There’s that sequence, of course (that scene, along with the hat, makes me think of John Smith as a sort of Clark Kent figure), and the nice tribute to the founders of the show with Smith’s parents being named as “Sydney” and “Verity”.

Ahem. A meal and two glasses of wine have been consumed since the last paragraph. Just warning you.

I love the way Joan follows Smith’s claim that his mother was a nurse with “We make such good wives.” Do you reckon she might be insinuating something? Then we have Smith finally asking her out. And the moving speech about widowhood. All of this is quite wonderful. And then we have the “Um, can you actually dance?” bit- nice reference!- and Martha’s rather upsetting dismissal (“Cultural differences…”), and the chat between the two love rivals in the pub. It’s all great, and then we have the cliffhanger…



The Family of Blood



“God, you’re rubbish as a human.”

And the gushing continues. I might as well tell you now that this is going straight to the top of my list…

Martha’s so brave in the early scenes, holding the baddies off with a gun and ensuring everyone is safe. It’s suddenly obvious that Cornell is writing her so much better than she’s been written before.

And the converse of this is Smith’s reaction- to instantly summon all the boys to defend the school with guns. Much as I like to poke fun at the exaggerated impression many fans have that the Doctor never uses guns (just look at Frontier in Space!), all this is so very unDoctorish.

Back to Martha- her “bones of the hand” speech is great. And once again it’s brave yet utterly right of Cornell to allow Joan, one of the characters we’re supposed to like, to express racist views- proto-feminist Joan may be, butte’s still of her time. In trying to make her believe that she’s a doctor-to-be Martha hits a brick wall. All this makes Martha look pretty damn great.

Smith gets some great lines once he has to confront his rather unenviable existential dilemma. “How can you think I’m not real?” he protests. “Am I not a good man?” It is now highlighted that he has no actual memories of his Nottingham childhood, another brilliant touch. Incidentally, I went to uni in Nottingham and I can’t quite recall whether some of the streets he mentions ring a bell…

We get more echoes of the recent past as Tim Latimer, a sort of Doctor substitute in some ways, declares himself “a coward, every time”. And then there’s the chilling juxtaposition of the battles scenes and To Be a Pilgrim. The headmaster is then killed, and Smith at last decides to send the boys away.

And then there’s Tim’s speech in the cottage. It should be corny. It’s not. I’ll quote it in full, cos I love it: “He’s like fire. And ice, and rage. He’s like the night, and the storm at the heart of the Sun. He’s ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And he’s wonderful.”

The build-up and tension to Smith’s inevitable decision is brilliantly handled, and the implications are fully explored: “And it was your job to execute me?” he says to Martha.

Still- the scenes appear once the watch is opened, so I expect Smith experiences the rest of his whole life, in Life on Mars fashion. Tennant’s acting on the ship is superb- on subsequent viewings it’s more obvious that he’s playing the Doctor pretending to be Smith, but it’s a brilliant and great performance. And it’s great to have the Doctor back. He’s never more seemed like a “lonely god”; his punishments for the Family of Blood are like something out of Greek mythology, or perhaps Morpheus’ behaviour in the early issues of Sandman. This is deep stuff- I mean, the little girl being the thing in the corner of your eye whenever you look into a mirror?!

And then there’s the Doctor’s behaviour with Joan. Seldom has he been more arrogant, insensitive, or unlikeable. Someone would have always died somewhere, of course, but still, Joan is absolutely right: “Answer me this. Just one question, that’s all. If the Doctor had never visited us, never chosen this place- on a whim- would anyone here have died?” (Silence). “You can go.” Genius.


This is wonderful. Forget Doctor Who, this is one of the finest pieces of television drama I’ve ever seen. 5/5, and the best ever.