Doctor Who: Revolution of the Daleks

 "This is why people don't like experts..."

Happy New Year and that. Last night was a bit of a washout for me what with the fireworks terrifying the little one and her not settling until very late indeed. This morning was somewhat unpleasant, too, waking up to the news that a fellow member of Doctor Who fandom, stalwart of the Whoovers, and regular MC of the Whoverville convention, died suddenly during the night at an unacceptable age. This has shaken East Midlands fandom a lot. I didn't know Ian well, far from it, but my few interactions with him were pleasant and enjoyable, his Facebook contributions have always been a pleasure, and this has absolutely no business happening. My sincere condolences to his wife, family and many friends.

Yet it seems somehow appropriate that I should be here, with some rather pleasant Chilean Cabernet, blogging the first new episode of Doctor Who in what feel like much longer than it actually was- March of 2020, just before the current plague hit my native foggy island, feels like another era. And, I'll say this up front, I liked this episode a lot.

And there's a lot to talk about, much of it fannish stuff, such as the cleverness of the title which deliberately evokes Revelation of the Daleks while homaging elements from that story's plot such as the original Daleks arriving at the end to exterminate the "impure" new race, and even a brief nod to cannibalism. But I must, firstly, talk about Chris Chibnall, who is impressing me more and more.

Chibnall had the misfortune of following Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, both of whom are writers of the very first rank. I'm not sure either is quite up there with the Troy Kennedy Martins or the Dennis Potters, but the comparison isn't absurd. It's no criticism of Chibnall to say that I wouldn't put him in such company. He's certainly an impressive writer, though. Alas, I've still yet to see his much-praised Broadchurch, but I'm currently rewatching and blogging Life on Mars and Chibnall is, for me, the best of its writers by far. It's clear that the man has talent- yet his pre-showrunner episodes of Doctor Who were decidedly mixed- partly, I suspect, that despite being a Doctor Who fanboy of old (though not necessarily of the works of Pip and Jane Baker), his natural talent lies more towards straight drama and crime than to whimsical science fantasy.

Certainly, with his first season as the Moff's successor, I felt that he had shown himself to be an impressive showrunner in the decisions he made around where to take the series while not necessarily being that great as a writer. I felt, and still feel to an extent, that his dialogue lacks the sparkle of both of his most recent predecessors. And yet, last season, with his glorious heresy of introducing pre-Hartnell Doctors and cheerfully telling us that everything we knew was wrong, he impressed me hugely and seemed to find his mojo. He seems to have embraced his inner fan in a big way without compromising his professional judgement or knack for what the casual viewer (always the most important consideration) will enjoy.

And, with that preamble out of the way and setting a context, I think I probably ought to talk about the episode.

I like that all the problems in this episode stem from politicking, greedy humans monkeying around with the remaining tiny bits of Dalek DNA left over following the decidedly explosive conclusion of Resolution. I like that Jack Robinson is back as a gloriously hissable baddie, a kind of Donald Trump without the dementia. Even more, though, I like the perfectly judged political subtext. Like the Cyberman (and, indeed, all science fiction), the Daleks at their best when their use is actually about something. I'm sure that those  who like to sneeringly use the word "woke" whenever Doctor Who addresses political matters (often choosing to ignore just how left-wing the stories were in the Pertwee years, and not just those by Malcolm Hulke) will insist that this episode's nod to Black Lives Matter is overly didactic, yet I'd say it's subtle, effective and perfectly judged. We all saw the ridiculous over-policing of the protests after the brutal murder of Mr George Floyd, with tanks and armoured vehicles being deployed by police forces. The use of Dalek casings for the same purposes, with water cannon and CS gas, is both clever and effective. I also like the gentle satire of the corrupt, authoritarian prime minister (blatantly a Tory) through dialogue, in which Chibnall manages to outdo David Hare in Roadkill.

I like also that Robinson is seen to do his Tobias Vaughn thing with the Daleks- with the Tobias Vaughn being a well-honed Doctor Who trope- betraying his species to save his skin- and not only escapes the expected extermination but ends up being hailed as a hero, no doubt to return for more enjoyable Trumpian skulduggery, nicely subverting the Tobias Vaughn trope. And I like the light touch with which Captain Jack's backstory is gently fed to casual viewers who won't necessarily remember back to 2005. It's a joy to see the good Captain, with his good humour and his squareness gun, and John Bannerman is fantastic. He has a lovely character moment with Yas in which he notices her strong emotional connection to the Doctor- could this be a hint at romantic feelings? I think we are, at least, meant to wonder.

Characterisation as a whole is VERY strong here. I've criticised Chibnall in the past for his use of three companions and failing to balance them all, and I feel on the while that my criticisms were valid in terms of story structure. Yet we find ourselves, by this point, with a surprisingly well-characterised TARDIS crew. The nice little heart to heart between Ryan and the Doctor is wonderful, foreshadowing his forthcoming departure and setting the scene for Ryan to leave too, in a perfectly realised double companion departure that works dramatically and feels just right. There's more, though. Although I've always liked Jodie Whittaker's performance- she's the Doctor- I've always felt that Chibnall has written this Doctor as a rather flat character, without any of the character depths of all the Doctors from Eccleston to Capaldi but more like the Doctor as written prior to the show's revival. This episode, with the Doctor articulating her angst at no longer knowing who she is and Ryan urging her to search for answers, goes a a long way to address that. I'm increasingly getting the sense that, although I've had my criticisms of Chibnall's writing in the past, he's been very much aware of his flaws and is addressing them. His writing seems to constantly improve, which is exciting and wonderful.

Finally, I love the treatment of the Daleks here. There's no dwelling on their complex backstory; they're simply doing their traditional thing of emerging from their flying saucers to fly about exterminating people with a CGI version of the traditional special effects. The latest "new paradigm" Daleks (actually a rather good design) are symbolically exterminated by more traditional models. The ethnic conflict between Daleks echoes both Revelation and Remembrance, a subtle reset to the '80s ideas of what Daleks are about. There's some lovely fanwank, too, with the other inmates of the Doctor's Shada-like prison.

Oh, and on the subject of fanwank, this hard of hearing viewer is delighted to see the subtitles render the TARDIS' wheezing, groaning sound yet again as "Vworp, vworp". Long may this continue. And long may Doctor Who continue to be as good as this. Chibnall is really growing as a writer, and it's a joy to see.

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Ten)

“I’ve seen some crazy shit with Torchwood, but now I’m at the limit!”

Be warned: this review contains massive, massive spoilers from the start!

Hmmm. Well, I suppose that worked as an ending, tying up the necessary loose ends: I don’t think we necessarily need chapter and verse on who exactly ordered every attempt to kill or hinder our heroes. But now that I’ve seen the whole thing I’m left underwhelmed by the disappointment of the revelations (it really was nothing more than the Families using Jack’s blood to alter the Blessing, as I’m sure we all guessed) and confirmed in my problems with the pacing of the whole series. Miracle Day has had some great individual scenes, and indeed great individual episodes, and the character development has been impressive. But the whole is much less than the sum of its parts.

It’s interesting to get a collaboration between RTD and Jane Espenson. Gwen’s opening monologue is classic RTD, but otherwise it’s hard to tell which writer is in the driving seat. It’s a well-structured finale, though, full of action but with loads of character as our heroes race to find the Blessing in both Shanghai and Buenos Aires.

There are a couple of early moments with Rex that made me smile: he suggests that he and Jack should go for a drink after everything is over, and even admits he’s never thanked Esther (“But don’t expect me to start now!”- this kind of foreshadows Esther’s death). Both of these hint at something lying beneath the gruff exterior, although you’d need a colossally huge mining operation to get at it.

We’re inevitably going to get a lot of exposition in this episode, so it makes sense to dump it all into the scenes of Exposition Woman expositing at Jilly. Interestingly, Jack is referred to as “The Creator”. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t hear her saying that.

It’s also striking that Jack chooses to tell Danes that he’s from the spacefaring future, although I find that the attempt to contrast this with the smallness of Danes’ life is a little contrived. But I suppose it sort of works as foreshadowing of his decision to become a suicide bomber. Importantly, this scene helps to ensure this isn’t an heroic act.

Finally, the CIA is about to discover that Charlotte is a mole, but she’s prepared. I was devastated to see Shapiro blown up- John De Lancie is one of the best things about this series! I have to mention the superb performances from Bill Pullman and Jilly Kitzinger, too; both of them superbly deliver a lot of dialogue which could have fallen flat if not delivered well.

The climax begins with a standoff; Rex and Esther are prisoners at the Buenos Aires end of the Blessing, whereas Jack and Gwen have a bit more leverage from being accompanied by a suicide bomber. This gives a nice opportunity to bury a lot of the much-needed exposition in dramatic scenes. We learn that the Families are essentially a bunch of nasty eugenicists and social Darwinists who want to destroy the weak to strengthen the human race, a familiar trope that doesn’t need a lot of fleshing out. Their overall plan is left somewhat vague, though; it feels odd to hear Jilly (great though Lauren Ambrose is here) expressing such enthusiasm for something so ill-defined. And I love the way that Jack’s attempt to explain the phenomenon by quoting things the Doctor has said (“Silurian mythology, Huon particles, Racnoss energy…” is immediately undercut by Gwen getting him to admit he has no idea what it is. And this is one of those occasions where it’s better that we get no explanation.

I’m not sure I dig the solution; why do Jack and Rex both need to sacrifice themselves instead of just pricking their fingers or something? Either way would surely mean very little quantity of blood in proportion to the size of the blessing. Still, it works, the Miracle ends, there’s a mad rush to escape, and Danes blows up himself, the Shanghai access to the Blessing, and exposition woman.

We’re left uncertain whether Esther and Rex are going to survive as they both lie on stretchers. We then immediately cut to Esther’s funeral. She dies and Jilly lives. Together with the dialogue from Gwen that no one should have the power over life and death that the Families claim, I’m reminded of Mr Copper’s speech at the end of Voyage of the Damned, to the effect that survivors are not always the ones we would have chosen.

Only at the very end does Rex realise that Charlotte is the traitor. He chases her, but is shot dead. And then comes back to life, seemingly made immortal by the infusion of Jack’s blood. It’s a fantastic closing moment.

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Nine)

“We need you to write history.”

Two months have passed (“Day 61 of the Great Depression”), and much has happened. This episode feels very different, in fact; the action has largely moved back to Wales, and there’s a real sense that we’re reaching the endgame, with lots and lots of revelations. John Fay does an excellent job of keeping the characterisation on track as we whizz through it all.

The opening scene, with Gwen robbing a pharmacy, has lots of unintended consequences with the recent riots down south, while the use of pizzas echoes Torchwood’s beginnings in Everything Changes, a long time ago now. It’s also quite arresting that Gwen’s dad is being given diamorphine (pure heroin) by his ex-police officer daughter.

Meanwhile, Esther and Jack are holed up somewhere up in Scotland while Jack recovers from his wounds. Once again, Esther shows that she is competent despite her doubts. It’s hard to escape from the realities of what the world has become, though; I’m not sure how Esther is supporting Jack and herself, but Rhys is forced to consider taking a job which is essentially the transport of concentration camp inmates to the gas chambers, just to make ends meet. This series has done an excellent job of showing us how a whole society can eventually come to accept such things.

Surprisingly, it seems that no one at the CIA has noticed Rex’s obvious complicity in last week’s escape. Perhaps Shapiro knows, and is taking advantage of the situation? He’s certainly a lot more pensive and philosophical that he was last episode, even passive in his willingness to allow Rex to pretty much do as he wants.

Rex is certainly on top of things, though, unearthing a 1935 pulp magazine story which is clearly based on Jack’s experiences in 1928. The writer’s entire family seem to have vanished, but the earlier murder of a family member means that DNA traces must exist. Unfortunately, it’s Charlotte who takes charge of this, and she’s an agent of the Families. Unsurprisingly, she finds nothing. There’s only so long this sort of thing can go on before she gets caught.

Things are coming to a head for Jilly, too, as her promotion is shown to consist of a new identity, a one-way ticket to Shanghai and a trip to the “Blessing”. We’re getting a lot of exposition here, not that I’m complaining. An action sequence of some kind is pretty much obligatory at this point, so we have the Gestapo narrowly failing to find Gwen’s dad.

One thing I certainly wasn’t expecting was to see Oswald Danes walking into Gwen’s home. He’s not exactly made welcome, but he has the psychopath’s ability to manipulate. Once Jack and Esther arrive, we get to see what he has to say. At first, all this stuff about “Harry Bosco” doesn’t seem to amount to much, but the simple concept of deliberate mistranslation turns out to be the key to everything. I like this; everything hinges on language, which is all a bit metatextual.

The scene between Jilly and the geeky bloke is fascinating; is he a member of the Families? He certainly seems to know a lot about them, and gets one fascinating line: “One family took politics, one family took finance, one family took media.” It’s implied, though, that this neat division of labour is all in the past.

It all kicks off in the last few minutes. Gwen’s dad is carted off to the death camps, but it suddenly becomes clear that the “Blessing”, whatever it is, runs right through the centre of the Earth between Shanghai and Buenos Aires. Somebody should give Rhys a gold star for his geography homework.

So, the team splits and heads to those two cities. Rex seems to have very little trouble getting permission from Shapiro to “go off-grid”; to me, this heavily implies that Shapiro knows exactly what he’s doing, and is far more in control than he appears. But he and Esther, as soon as they arrive in Argentina, are somehow betrayed by Charlotte. Jack, Gwen and Danes(!), in Shanghai, meanwhile, find Jack’s health beginning to deteriorate at an inconvenient time; is he dying?

Jilly’s trip to see the Blessing is dragged out by all sorts of suspense. We even get a strangely Moffat-esque line about “something in the corner of your eye that you can’t quite see.” What we see, though, is very abstract and odd. We still have no clear idea what it is. But what people see is subjective. And Jilly’s revelation is that “I’m right.” What does this mean? No doubt we’ll find out in the last episode.

Meanwhile, it turns out that Jack’s serious health problems might not be as inconvenient as they appear at first, as his blood seems to roll towards the blessing…

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Eight)

“You’re telling me the whole world got screwed because two gay guys had a hissy fit?”

Right. That’s it. That opening spiel with the white background and the numbers going upwards is getting well annoying, and it’s a relief that I’m only going to have to see it twice more. It’s also becoming clear as we reach the end just how uneven and oddly paced the series have been- surely the gradual revelation of the plot could have been paced better? Still, at least we have John de Lancie to add a bit of fun.

The team are taken by Nana Visitor to see Angelo, now a centenarian vegetable, and to receive the necessary exposition. There are some old pics of Jack on the mantelpiece, including one from the ‘70s with a moustache; although Angelo has married, become very wealthy and fathered children, he hasn’t forgotten Jack.

This isn’t purely for personal reasons, of course. Angelo has been watching Jack partly to learn whatever he can from Jack’s immortality. So have others, including those three men we saw in flashback last episode.  The three families of Ablemarch, Costerdane and Frines have been watching Jack for eighty-three years, constantly watching his resurrections, since 1928. They seem to have been collecting his blood. And, in 1998, a message was intercepted, referring to the “blessing”…

Suddenly, they’re all raided and arrested by a CIA team lead by none other than Newman. Except, this doesn’t seem to be entirely official. Newman seems nervous about the imminent arrival of others, and his sadistic behaviour towards Rex isn’t exactly that of someone who expects to explain himself to a superior.

The “official” CIA arrive, led by the brilliant John de Lancie as Shapiro, the CIA’s big boss. It turns out that Rex has deliberately allowed himself to be caught by Newman so he can set a trap; he’s wearing contact lenses, and Newman’s revealing comments to him are being relayed on every screen in the area for everyone to see.

The introduction of Shapiro gives the series a much-needed shot of adrenaline; De Lancie is perfectly cast, and Jane Espenson and Ryan Scott keep him well-supplied with great dialogue. And it feels as though we’ve reached a point where big revelations are going to keep coming. It seems that Newman is an agent of the Families; he gets to recite the mantra (“They are everywhere. They are always. They are no one.”), before blowing up the car he’s in, along with Nana Visitor.

Jack gets a few moments alone with Angelo, and is tactless enough to mention Ianto(!). But then, unexpectedly, Angelo dies, becoming the first person to do so since Miracle Day. It’s a bit of a mystery what causes this; we’re going to get some revelations shortly about what lies underneath the bed, but I reckon it’s Jack’s breath what did it. Surely the presence of the world’s only mortal man can’t be a coincidence?

Shapiro certainly suspects something along those lines, and insists that no one leaves. Other things are going on in the wider world, too, although frankly I’d rather not be reminded of the EU’s slow-burn financial crisis in my escapist drama!

The scene switches to Dallas, where we return to the sublime Bill Pullman and the wonderful Lauren Ambrose after far too long. Jilly Kitzinger is continuing to give Danes a load of very detailed instructions so he can further advance her employers’ agenda, but Danes is showing an increasing tendency to generally act like a rebellious teenager. Then, he changes the subject with a simple “Get me a girl”. Apparently, she has to be of “legal age”. Is this supposed to tell us something beyond the fact that we as viewers would not accept things being otherwise?

Jilly is approached by a very self-confident young wannabe “intern”, Shawnie Yamaguchi. We’re told, pretty much immediately, that she’s a CIA spy. I felt rather stupid for not having guessed that.

Bad things are happening. Esther’s sister, whom she reported to social services a while ago, intends to volunteer herself and her two children as Category One. Gwen’s dad is completely buggered- he’s in a bad way, but they can’t call a doctor without outing him as Category One. And the world economy continues to implode (We can smoke our way into the next Great Depression!”), as there are runs on the banks.

Esther spots something odd about the raised platform under Angelo’s bed, but Jack seems oddly reluctant for him to mention this to Shapiro. He’s eventually forced to mention that it’s a kind of localised “morphic field”, whatever that is.

Oswald manages to freak out his prostitute by insisting on sort of date, with conversation and dinner, rather than the sort of depraved activities one might expect. I’m not sure how realistic this is, frankly; it seems rather too neat. Surely a worldly-wise courtesan who sleeps with senators and so must be known for her intelligent conversation would either be willing to do this or (most likely by far) not be willing to have anything to do with someone like Danes at all?

Danes ends up in a massive row with Jilly I which he is violent towards her. Enraged, she lets slip that he is to be designated as “Category Zero” and sent to the ovens to carry out the judicial killing.

Back in Nevada, Jack utilises the bizarre properties of the morphic field to speak privately with Jack and Esther. He makes it clear that this is alien technology, once in the possession of Torchwood, with which humanity cannot be trusted. Esther is convinced instantly. Rex takes more persuasion, but ultimately it is agreed that they will attempt an escape.

Jilly, meanwhile, is approached by a mysterious, yet clearly important, chap. Warning her that she’s being watched by a CIA spy, he casually shoots Shawnie. Both of them seem to take this in their stride.  She is then offered a promotion within the “Family business”, and immediately accepts. We are then immediately shown that one of the CIA agents we’ve followed throughout the series, a friend of Rex and Esther’s whose name I didn’t catch, is working for the Family too. Their tentacles seem to be everywhere.

In Nevada, the escape begins; the plan is for Jack to escape, with Rex and Esther staying to bluff things out. But things go wrong. Jack, who is now mortal, is shot, and needs Esther to go with him. Rex has blood on his clothes. Gwen has been deported. And Esther is left alone in a stolen car with a possibly dying Jack as the radio delivers alarming news of financial Armageddon. We are reminded of her earlier crises of confidence as she panics. Where can she go? What can she do?

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Seven)

“I’m sorry, Angelo. But this is the story of my life.”

Another episode from Jane Espenson. It’s brilliant, as you’d expect, and moves the plot on quote a bit while focusing on the characters of Jack and Gwen, who have become somewhat neglected of late in their own show.

We start with a flashback to 1927, and a bunch of Italian immigrants at Ellis Island; it’s pretty much obligatory to mention The Godfather, Part II here. Jack is here on some sort of mission for Torchwood, but finds the time to meet (and seduce) an immigrant called Angelo Colasanto.

Meanwhile, in 2011, Gwen arrives back in Venice, and abruptly calls Jack outside, immediately tying him up and putting him in the back of a car, in line with her instructions from last episode. Her family is in danger; it’s very clear that she has absolutely no qualms about doing what has to be done.

In 1927, Jack gives Angelo some advice: he’s to spend the last two years before the Wall Street Crash saving money. But “Don’t worry. It gets better. Then it gets worse again.” All this must seem rather unnecessarily mysterious to any new viewers in America who may be unaware of Jack’s backstory, but it’s nice to get a bit more on Jack’s long past. These sorts of flashbacks are, after all, a Torchwood tradition.

There’s a long sex scene between two of them, the first extended gay sex scene, or sex scene of any kind, yet seen in the entire Whoniverse. The two of them connect afterwards in away which makes it clear that Jack is after a relationship, although not a permanent one. His immortality and his normal sex drive are not good, er, bedfellows; deep down he must know that he’s hurting everyone with whom he has more than a one night stand, including Ianto, of course. But, on the other hand, he’s a human being with human feelings and urges. It’s complicated.

Some lines from Angelo remind us that this is the 1920s, and that being gay was rather more complicated back then, a fact for which Jack has little understanding or empathy. We also have the two of them observing a wedding ceremony, at which Jack comments that the beauty of it is the commitment in the here and now, whatever may happen later. Of course, the only possible purpose for this scene is for it to come back and bite him later.

In 2011, Jack wakes up. Not only is he being kidnapped and probably taken to his death by probably his closest remaining friend, but he gets a tongue-lashing as well. Gwen is convinced that the whole “miracle” situation is the result of something Jack has done at some point in his “long bloody life”. As we shall see, she’s right, but under the circumstances it seems a little harsh.

1927 again, and Angelo becomes mixed up in Jack’s mission. At first he seems to be doing a spot of bootlegging (why so many people wanted to emigrate to a country you couldn’t even get a bloody drink is beyond me!!!), but it becomes clear that his real motive is to make contact with a bunch of local gangsters and learn the location of a certain box in a certain warehouse. And if I hadn’t mentioned The Godfather: Part 2 earlier, I would have had to have mentioned it now.

As per his usual habits, Jack tries to get rid of Angelo at this point. But Angelo persuades him to keep him around as a “companion”; Jack directly compares himself to the Doctor here. This makes sense. He’s certainly seemed a little more Doctorish of late.

The two of them set off, find the crate, and uncover its contents; a nasty alien worm, a parasite, set to infect FDR ready to drive him mad during his second term, throwing Earth’s history off course. This is all courtesy of the Trickster’s Brigade. Yes, that’s right. A Sarah Jane Adventures continuity reference!

Jack dissolves the nasty little thing and the two of them scarper. But then things go wrong; Jack is killed and Angelo is captured. Except that Jack gets better, while Angelo spends a year in prison.

Back to 2011, and Gwen is now angry at herself. She feels that Torchwood was “toxic from day one”, that she was horrible to Rhys, that she was basically motivated by how important she felt, and that even the deaths of her friends just made her feel more important, and unique, and “better” than them for surviving, a thought which now horrifies her. She warns Jack that she will kill him, if her daughter’s life depends on it. He, on the other hand, however long he’s lived, doesn’t want to die. He warns her that he feels the same way, and they understand each other. This is damn good writing, with the importance lying in what remains unsaid.

1928, and Jack meets Angelo outside the prison upon his release. But things have changed; Angelo saw him die, and is freaked out. So much so, in fact, that he believes him to be the Devil, and stabs him to death. Worse, he shows Jack to others, and soon there are a large group of people in Little Italy who see that he’s immortal, killing him again and again, and seeming to take samples of his freely flowing blood. The word “miracle” is used. The broad shape of what is happening in 2011 now becomes a lot clearer.

Angelo eventually feels remorseful and rescues him, but not before three mysterious behatted men seem to make a deal on the terms by which they “own” him. He even washes Jack’s feet, in a rather embarrassing piece of symbolism. But Jack’s had enough; as soon as he retrieves his coat and vortex manipulator from their hiding place, he coldly dumps Angelo and disappears.

2011, and Gwen and Jack make their rendezvous with the mysterious people behind the contact lenses. These people turn out to be Nana Visitor and a couple of underlings. Suddenly, a sniper’s spot appears; Rex and Esther have discovered the text on the contact lenses on the monitor screen and have been waiting.  Nana Visitor and co are apprehended, while Gwen’s family, in South Wales, are freed by Andy and his fellow coppers. They’ve won. Except… Nana Visitor claims that nothing has changed; Jack is still coming with them, and no coercion is needed. Because Angelo is waiting, and has been for a very long time…

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Six)

“Never question a miracle. You might not like what you find.”

There’s a definite change of focus here from the very start, as we begin with Phicorp middle manager Stuart Owens and Janet, his assistant and bit on the side. He’s curious about what his employers are up to, but as soon as his bloke in Shanghai discovers something big, which we don’t see, he’s so horrified he commits suicide by jumping from a very high building. The “forty-five club” is just the latest of many brilliantly horrible concepts which have followed on from the main theme of the season.

We turn to Rex, recording a message about what he’s seen in the San Pedro Overflow Camp. He’s deeply affected by what he’s seen happen to Vera, and the awful reality of the extermination camp. He has a very clear idea of the implications, noting that it may start with the Category Ones, but will soon spread to convicted felons, illegal immigrants (there’s a subtly disturbing later dialogue echo of this), and so on. It may sound extreme, but all of this has of course happened before.

Marc Vann is superb as Colin Maloney, struggling to come to terms with the reality and the consequences of his actions. The conversations between him and his agonised underling, a kind of Lady Macbeth, are gripping drama. The banal, Pooterish little man from last episodes, with his golf buggy and liking for Phil Collins, is long gone. This is the banality of evil writ large.

Gwen, meanwhile, is trying to get her father out of another camp, on South Wales, and one of her scenes in particular is at the very heart of what this episode is about. As soon as Dr. Patel washes her hands of what she’s doing with a simple “I don’t make the rules, you know,” Gwen lets rip, and she’s magnificent. “Don’t you dare look at me and tell me you’re obeying orders,” she says, “Don’t you bloody dare.” There’s no answer to that. And the parallels are very, very stark.

Jack, meanwhile, might be rather clever in what he’s doing but he doesn’t really discover much. Still, it’s fun to watch how he cleverly manoeuvres himself to confront Owens in a plush restaurant, only to discover that Owens, much though he’d like to, doesn’t know anything, and is no more “evil” than most of us. But this middleman, this ordinary man, nevertheless gets a magnificent speech in which he makes clear just how deep this conspiracy has to go, and how long it must have been planned. We do learn one thing, though; “the blessing” has something to do with it. We know, because we have a basic understanding of how serial drama works, that this will eventually prove very, very significant.

This is an episode full of scenes paralleling other scenes through a series of one-on-one conversations. Dr Patel, seemingly decent, has her hands deep in the blood whereas Owens is hard to particularly condemn.  Rex’s scene with Maloney is different, though. In direct contrast with Jack, he assumes he’s dealing with a decent man who can be reasoned with, and only we, the audience, realise the danger he’s put himself in; the scene where he’s looking for a weapon and alights on a simple pen is the single scariest moment in this episode. Maloney has had a very long day.

Esther has been very self-assured thus far, but as soon as she finds herself in a situation of physical violence she pretty much loses it, only eventually being saved by a change of heart from Private Lady Macbeth. Esther has another crisis of confidence after this, getting a hug from Rex. Is something going to happen between the two of them?

Gwen and Rhys are every bit as magnificent as we expected, not only rescuing Gwen’s dad but blowing up the ovens, and using the Torchwood contact lenses to reveal the truth to the world. Mission accomplished. Except… it’s not. Yes, there’s public revulsion, but the authorities refuse to budge and the situation continues. It’s horrible, but I suspect it’s realistic.

Gwen returns to America, and the lenses are turned against her to provide quite a cliffhanger: “they” have her mother, her husband and her daughter. And they want Jack…

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Five)

“Who’s with Anwen?”

“No one. I left her with petrol and a cigarette lighter.”

That opening text thing is starting to get annoying, but never mind. This episode is superb; tense, fast-moving and really pushing the overall story into another stage, with some unexpected shocks.

Vera Juarez is told that the medical panels are over; their conclusions are to be used for establishing legislation defining the three “categories of life”, an ominous phrase. Vera is sufficiently appalled to immediately phone a rather smug Rex. This has to be stopped, and she demands to be involved.

After an off-screen journey right across America, Vera arrives in Venice and meets the team. This is a good opportunity for exposition, and that’s exactly what we get: category one means you’re so badly injured or sick that you’re unable to function yet unable to die; category three means you’re pretty much healthy; and category two is anything that lies in-between, a particularly murky and subjective category. And yet anyone defined as category one or two is sent to one of these mysterious camps. Oddly enough, this all seems to be a result of the medical panels in Washington DC, but seems to have been implemented throughout much of the world, including Europe. Er, not sure about that.

Gwen is off back to Wales to rescue her dad, and her scenes with Rhys are some of the few moments of humour in this uncharacteristically sombre script from Jane Espenson. She has an important mission to undertake, as her mother reminds her in no uncertain terms. The conspiracy runs deep; Phicorp, a private company, is apparently taking over the entire NHS!!!

The scene between Esther and Jack is a nice little character moment. Esther is still struggling with her confidence, as we also see in the following scene, but we also later see her carrying out her mission perfectly effectively. The subsequent discussion is fascinating, too; as Rex points out, there’s no objective way of deciding which category he belongs to. It’s an arbitrary decision, to be made by those with the power to do so. As Vera says, no one should have that much power.

It seems that every camp is equipped with “modules”, which are hidden from view in every photograph. The group quickly plan to infiltrate one, with Rex being taken away in an ambulance complete with hidden recording equipment. I love Jack’s parting words to him!

Oswald Danes, meanwhile, is to speak at a sinister-sounding “Miracle Rally”. Bill Pullman and Lauren Ambrose again show themselves to be the two best actors in this series as Oswald and Jilly Kitzinger argue over the contents of his speech.

Rex discovers the camps, inside, are cold and dark, and that there doesn’t seem to be enough room for the apparent demand. Meanwhile, Vera, posing as a kind of inspector, infiltrates the camp where Rex is being held, where she encounters the rather arrogant and unpleasant Colin Maloney, with his sneer and his golf buggy. And she becomes increasingly horrified by the conditions she finds.

Gwen, in parallel scenes, finds her dad at a similar camp in South Wales. A lot of care has been taken to make this look very different from its counterpart in California- the lighting is much darker, and the camera is certainly much more hyperactive. The atmosphere is unbelievably tense as Gwen and Rhys try to get Gwen’s trusting dad out of the camp. But catastrophe happens from an unexpected quarter; the stress gives Geraint another heart attack. Escape is now simply impossible and Geraint, now no longer conscious, is reclassified to category one. As we shall see, this is going to have horrible consequences.

Vera shows her inexperience with this kind of undercover work as the increasingly awful conditions she uncovers lead her to lose her cool and start a shouting match with Maloney. Tragically, she threatens to have him arrested and prosecuted, showing a touching faith in the authorities which will very shortly turn out to have been horrifyingly misplaced. Maloney, who has consistently exhibited psychopathic tendencies, responds by shooting her, several times. This is a massive shock, but it’s not the first time that a member (sort of) of Torchwood has been unexpectedly and cruelly killed in action. If the word “killed” is appropriate, that is. Things look ominous, though; after a messy cover-up, Vera is quickly put into a module, with the “category ones”.

Jack has been spending this time following Danes, and we get a scene in which he urges him to instead read a speech of his own devising, exposing Phicorp. Sadly, though, pairing John Barrowman with an actor of Pullman’s calibre doesn’t exactly make him look good. He’s a competent actor, although his range is limited, but he doesn’t really belong in this exalted company. Certainly, Pullman brings off the speech magnificently. Danes delivers the message intended by Phicorp, but in his own way.

We end with the shocking revelation that the “modules” are ovens, and that the camps are extermination camps. It’s the Holocaust all over again, on a massive scale. Suddenly Torchwood is dealing with some very, very big themes.

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Four)

“We are everywhere. We are always. We are no one.”

A rather serious episode this time, which seems to feeds us a few pointers about the general shape of what is going without actually revealing much. That’s clever. For the moment I’m enjoying being teased like this, but it looks as though next episode things will start to shift gear.

This one’s by Jim Gray and John Shiban. I don’t know anything about Jim Gray but Shiban has apparently written a lot of episodes for The X-Files which makes sense, given the tone this week. Jane Espenson it ain’t.

We heard about Esther’s sister, Sarah, last episode, and this time around we get to see her, all shut up in a boarded-up house with her two children. This is a disturbing scene, and among other things it shows us that Esther is far outside her comfort zone. The situation with her sister is a sort of synecdoche (sorry; I’m a pretentious git, I know, and I’m wondering if I still use the word correctly!) for Esther’s difficulties in adapting to the new and very stressful situation she finds herself in, not only having to deal with the new world reality but with a fugitive experience which is far from her experience. As we’ve seen, Esther is an extremely competent and resourceful person, but now she is adrift from the world she knew. Understandably, she makes mistakes, making a snap decision to report her sister to social services- with uncontrollable consequences- and allowing herself to be tailed by a mysterious hostile agent by making the elementary mistake of visiting a lone family member. Rex may not show much sympathy when this eventually comes close to compromising the mission, but Esther is very much the audience identification character. I suspect it’ll be interesting to use her as a yardstick for the whole series.

Anyway… Venice Beach! I’ve been there! It’s nice to have somewhere a bit nicer to look at than Washington D.C. at night. Just because it’s nice and sunny doesn’t mean there isn’t plot stuff going on, though. For a start there’s this “Dead Is Dead” business, pushed by one Ellis Hartley Monroe. Jilly Kitzinger calls her a “darling of the Tea Party,” which presumably indicates she’s based on some combination of Sarah Palin and the even more disturbing Michele Bachman. I’m sure I recognise the actress from somewhere. Anyone know what else she’s been in? She’s chilling, anyway. Her plans for putting the “dead” in camps have obvious parallels, and another parallel is drawn out by Rex’s discomfort with her talk of “segregation”.

Torchwood have a place to live, Gwen wants Rhys to get her dad out of hospital, and Gwen has been spotted by the same bloke who saw Esther earlier. All of these plot beats happen so quickly that you just know they’ll be back to bite our heroes later.

With a base of operations later, the team do a spot of rather impressive research while Jack regales us with allusions to George Eliot and Middlemarch. (I was born in Nuneaton, y’know.) Jilly’s making plans too. She isn’t completely amoral; she’s as disgusted by Oswald Danes as anyone but she’s professional enough to do her job. Although Danes is rendered slightly less evil by comparison once Piers Morgan is mentioned.

Esther, showing how competent she is when operating within her comfort zone, establishes that Server 113 is what they need to discover more, and she’s the prime mover in formulating the plan. There’s some alpha male squabbling between Jack and Rex on who should lead the mission, but this time Rex backs down rather more easily. He’s clearly more subdued than he has been. And he’s affected enough to pay a visit to his estranged father, something which means what he later says to Esther is rather hypocritical.

I love the rather clever scene in which Gwen and Jack obtain Nicholas Frumkin’s voice pattern, fingerprints and eye print, even if another person later on isn’t so nice. Gwen’s American accent actually sounded ok-ish to my British ears, but I loved her embarrassment (“Hot diggity!”). This contrasts with the later scene, of course, in which Frumkin loses a hand and an eye, but “no one dies”.

Vera Juarez, meanwhile, acts as our eyes and ears as we see how horrible things are getting in the hospitals, and how something like the camps can come about. Monroe is gaining ground, much to Danes’ horror. “The moment I lose my platform, I get thrown back to the mob”, he says, in a pithy little summation of his basic motivation. He’s led to hijack Monroe’s television news conference by very visible entering the hospital and swearing to help his fellow “dead” people. “I have risen with unending life”, he says, and speaks of “rapture”. Gosh, you don’t suppose there’s a certain allusion being made here, do you? It seems to work, though. Monroe (“Get a hold of Fox”) is instantly eclipsed and, no longer of use to her mysterious masters, is drugged unconscious. Those who live by the sword…

Unfortunately, the plan to switch the servers has been compromised ever since Esther started to be followed, and Gwen and Jack are finally caught and tied up by this mysterious bloke who’s been skulking about all episode. Incidentally, there are a lot of women being tied up in this episode, aren’t there? He’s an assassin, rather frustrated by the recent turn of events, and quite the psycho. He’s about to reveal something about the identity of the big bad when Rex, inevitably, arrives and shoots him in the throat.

Monroe’s fate is truly horrible; left inside a car as it’s crushed. The moment where the camera looks inside the tangled mass of metal to find a living, moving eye is horribly evocative. And the ending is ominous, too; Gwen’s dad has been taken to a camp, and it’s too late to stop it happening…

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Three)

“You’re a member of Torchwood now, whether you like it or not.”

This is the first time since I started this blog that I’ll be reviewing an episode written by Jane Espenson (here’s a hint as to where things are headed after I finish reviewing Blake’s 7; there’ll be many, many more episodes by her!). As you’d expect, the characterisation and the dialogue just sparkle. This is where we get past the set-up and into the actual story, and it’s looking exciting. Of course, I have no idea where any of this is going. But that’s all part of the fun.

We start with a scene which looks towards how things are going to develop- Oswald Danes, again being interviewed on television, modestly declines the title of “expert” but nonetheless goes on to opine on the necessity of “free drugs” for all. We then look back to the last episode as Rex confronts Newman- er, Friedkin, threatening him rather sadistically. We learn that Newman has been paid for “decades” by some mysterious agency, but the only thing he knows about them is a phone number which turns out to be untraceable. All of this is a rather smooth operation by the “new” Torchwood team.

Gwen comes across the massed ranks of the “Soulless”, with their rather fetching masks, in central Washington, and quietly shows her competence in arranging for the practical needs of their little underground group. I love the throwaway comment about Jack’s bank account having loads of money because it’s been gathering interest since 1906! There’s some witty and amusing stuff about transatlantic translation difficulty. I love Gwen’s line about the flat lemonade!

A bit of skirmishing between Jack and Rex about which one of them is the alpha male (to be continued) is interrupted by a mini-crisis of confidence on the part of Esther; she’s used to being behind a desk, and has no experience of dealing with anything like this. But we’ve already seen (especially at the end of last episode) how resourceful she is. It’s nice to see the character getting properly fleshed out.

The team finally follow the clues to a massive warehouse, which turns out to be “bigger on the inside!” The warehouse belongs to Phicorp, which is apparently a massive multinational pharmaceutical company. And the place is full of a newly developed painkiller, one which has no narcotic side effects. It’s here in such large numbers that Phicorp must have been expecting the “Miracle” for at least a year. The plot most definitely thickens. I’m loving this.

Meanwhile, Dr Juarez and Jilly Kitzinger, during one of those serendipitous outside conversations that makes me sort of miss my smoking days, more or less accepts an invitation to a “meeting”, about which much more later. Rex, meanwhile, gets a valuable lesson in how absolutely none of his CIA contacts can be trusted any more. We then get another confrontation between him and Jack over who has the biggest cock, after which Rex buggers off. He might be the alpha male type, but he’s still had a very stressful few days and could probably do with a bit of time to process things. Also, a bit of sex would probably help. Conveniently, that’s very much on the cards as he visits Dr Juarez. Rex is not exactly a paragon of chivalry here, but the two of them end up in bed together and Rex plants in her mind the idea of acting as Torchwood’s “spy” at the Phicorp meeting. She immediately refuses and throws him out but, as we’ll see, her own tenacious nature makes the offer impossible to resist.

Jack, stopping off at a gay club, gets some action of his own in scenes which the BBC has rather obviously and clumsily edited. He insists on using a condom with particular vehemence, an interesting reminder of his new-found mortality. His semi-drunken post-coital phone call shows up the character’s extreme loneliness, though. He has no real connection with the bloke he’s just copped off with, and needs to speak to Gwen for some real emotional reassurance. But Gwen, as soon as Esther manages to connect her to her husband and daughter, just abandons the phone call halfway through.

Oswald Danes, after a bit of police brutality which shows us how unpleasant it must be to be him, conveniently meets up with the very interesting and rather attractive (I like bad girls!) Jilly Kitzinger for a trip to Dallas. They’re not the only people going to that meeting, though; Gwen still has those famed Torchwood contact lenses, and Dr Juarez has decided to help Rex after all. Gwen immediately spots Danes and Kitzinger, and it’s obvious that this is no “meeting”. A presentation soon starts, and a congressman starts pushing the idea of legislation to abolish the need for prescriptions for drugs. It’s immediately obvious who stands to benefit from this.

Gwen has a narrow escape from Kitzinger’s room, but amongst the others watching there are other problems. For one thing, Jack has disappeared. For another, Friedkin’s phone rings, and the ensuing scene is played in near-total silence, with no incidental music, and we hear nothing but Rex’s side of the conversation.

Jack, it turns out, has gone to confront Danes, at gunpoint. Jack, of course, knows what it is to murder a child and to crave forgiveness, and immediately sees the falseness of Danes’’ supposed repentance. Bill Pullman is again magnificent here, taking pleasure in goading Jack with the pleasure he takes in his crime. “She flaunted it,” he claims, and insists it was the best moment of his life. But it also seems he has a death wish; he longs for execution.

This is a trap, though; Phicorp agents seize Jack, destroy his recording of the conversation, and give him a good kicking before throwing him out. Danes appears on television again, ending the episode as it began. He comes out rather strongly in favour of private heath companies, i.e. Phicorp, and spouts some rather scarily right-wing stuff about private companies rather than “Government” (a big, abstract, capitalised proper noun with no definite article, of course). What’s in it for him…?

That was bloody good- witty, entertaining, and the story is unfolding nicely with just the right number of mysteries developing.

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part Two)

“The next six hours are gonna be filled by boredom, followed by monotony…”

Last episode, inevitably, had a lot of introductions and exposition to get through. However well these things are done (RTD does them very well indeed), such episodes are too easily dismissed if allowances are not made for the complicated job such episodes have to do. Fortunately no such allowances are needed here- we’ve only reached the second episode but the series is flying. This instalment is exciting, action-packed, witty and dammed entertaining. I’ve not seen anything written by Doris Egan before (although my good friend Wikipedia informs me that she has worked on stuff like House and Smallville), but on this evidence I’m bloody impressed.

We start with Jack and Gwen being, er, rendited(?) by Rex, representative of a foreign power which is riding roughshod over our national sovereignty. Grr. Annoyingly, though, Rex is not only very cool indeed but has managed to up the coolness quotient considerably from last episode.

It’s a Rhys-lite episode as Rex sends him off back home (no doubt so he can brood Welshly and come up with some sort of plan in a later episode). But from here on the episode, although admirably balancing light and dark in its tone, is where we start to burrow into what will no doubt end up as a massive CIA conspiracy. We finally get to meet the mysterious Mr Friedkin, and he’s… Newman from Seinfeld (Wayne Knight). I find it impossible to judge his performance- it’s unfair, I know, but he’s an actor I associate very strongly with one part and it’s hard to accept him playing anyone else. Hopefully that’ll fade.

We get one quiet moment between Gwen and Jack, establishing their close relationship (which does not go unnoticed by Rex) and, importantly, acknowledging that Jack’s been travelling and hinting that there’s something he needs to atone for. It’s not dwelt upon so as to alienate new viewers, but it’s important that the enormity of what he’s done is acknowledged. Still, aside from that it’s all action-cum-thriller fun. And I suspect Jacks point about morphic fields will prove important.

The conspiracy begins to show itself in both story threads as both Esther and Rex find themselves excluded from the world on which they’ve relied, and forced to adopt the unfamiliar role of outsider- although I suspect this would be easier for Rex than for Esther, who seems very much an establishment person. The exchange about her always maintaining a neutral viewpoint and having to eventually pick sides is, I suspect, commenting on her character arc.

Oswald Danes, meanwhile, gets some interesting development, again played superbly by Bill Murray. His deeply felt regret, live on television, seems all the more genuine because of its suddenness. Danes seems genuinely relieved to be able to say these things; before, he was “scared”. This is an acting masterclass, it really is. There’s so much riding on Pullman’s performance, and he really delivers.

The subsequent scene in the lift, with gorgeous yet sinister PR lady Jilly Kittinger, is brilliantly written and performed, and I’m not just saying that because the scene confirms all my prejudices about PR! Pullman is brilliant, again.

Dr. Juarez gets a much meatier role this week, showing herself to be a truly awesome individual. Not only does she completely rearrange the way her own hospital deals with the new reality, but she decides to gatecrash a high level panel, only to find that they’re desperate for as many doctors as they can get. Also, of course, she’s still in touch with Rex. Again, I’m sure this will prove important to the plot.

There are some fascinating and terrifying ideas thrown about here; the sick, without dying, are simply incubators for bacteria. This being so, antibiotics will last for mere months as resistances develop faster. Worse, people still age. Everyone ultimately faces horrible physical suffering- the classical allusion is entirely appropriate.

But the main stuff happening in this episode is on the plane, where Oswald has Jack and Gwen tied to chairs with only himself, a sinister CIA lady, a stewardess and a definitely-not-gay steward (a bit excessive on the staffing front?) for company. Of course, we know that sinister CIA lady is going to try and kill the now mortal Jack- the fact that it’s so blatantly obvious is why it’s so fun- and the ensuing hi-jinks surrounding the poisoning are hilarious and great. I love the way Dr Juarez makes sensible use of the array of medical talent available to her, the slapstick, that punch by Gwen (“I’m Welsh!”), and Eve Myles’ general awesomeness.

Esther, until now a tenacious but essentially loyal CIA agent, finds herself ruthlessly cut off for Knowing Too Much, and makes a magnificent escape, flirting her way through the final checkpoint on her way to the end of the episode. Dr Juarez, more sinisterly, finds herself talking to Jilly Kittinger while having a ciggy, and doesn’t entirely reject her suggestion. That’s what I’ve missed about smoking these last six-and-a-half years- the social element of having one outside…

Jilly Kitzinger represents Phicorp, who are clearly either a big bad or a red herring. They manufacture painkillers, and stand to benefit materially from the new situation. We now have a fair few intriguing plot threads bubbling away nicely.

We get a carefully choreographed climax, with Esther phoning Rex to warn him as the plane lands; they’re after him too. Both Esther and Rex are now persona non grata. There’s nothing for it but to join forces with Gwen and Jack and fight their way out.

Oh, and I love Gwen’s comments on US immigration! Lovely people, the Americans, very hospitable, open and friendly. I have to make an exception of their immigration officers, though, who in my experience are a bunch of humourless bastards who seem to have declared war against their own country’s tourist industry…!

Torchwood: Miracle Day (Part One)

“Wales is insane!”

Now that Torchwood has started airing in the UK I’ll be reviewing it pretty much as it airs for the first time- hopefully in a day or two at least. Blake’s 7 will continue for the rest of the week; though; series three will probably start on Sunday.

It’s a dramatic start; Oswald Danes, a convicted murderer and child rapist, about to be judicially killed. It looks painful. Next we get introduced to CIA operative Rex, who’s pleased his career is going to benefit from a colleague’s wife contracting cancer. Nice. He’s talking on the phone to another new character, the tenacious Esther Drummond. There’s also another apparent regular, Dr. Vera Juarez, who understandably spends much of this episode reacting.

Oh, and there’s Gwen and Rhys, now quietly living in a farmhouse with their baby daughter. They’re still the beating heart of the show and this is completely and utterly the Torchwood we know and love.

It’s hard to judge this episode, really, as it understandably consists mostly of set-up. But set-up should be judged on its own terms, and this is a typically assured example of the beast from good old RTD. All of the new characters feel like real people very, very quickly, there’s plenty of action, and it’s all as pacey as ever. It’s also extremely well directed by Bharat Nalluri of Life on Mars fame.

The central concept is great, too- suddenly, everyone is immortal- and as yet we have no idea where any of this is going. People still get sick, they still get old, they still get injured, but they can’t die, not even when blown up, or when their head is removed. And we have no idea whether people, including Rex, who have survived certain death, will just drop dead if this situation should end.

Our new American viewers are introduced to Wales via some sweeping vistas of the countryside, and we see Gwen and Rhys’ idyllic, if isolated lifestyle. It’s not a life that this urban person would fancy, and I do wonder how they’re supporting themselves. But it’s established that Rhys, domestic as ever, is extremely determined that Gwen’s extremely dangerous life should never again intrude on their lives, especially as they now have a baby daughter. And there’s a real potential for terrible things to happen if they ever get found, as their reaction to an innocent knock on the door makes clear. Except… the last shot of the scene makes us wonder whether those two “tourists” are as innocent as they appear.

There’s a great scene with Oswald Danes insisting that, as his sentence has been successfully carried out, he should be released, or he will sue the Governor of whatever state he’s in, personally, with a good chance of winning. As we later discover, this works, and he’s freed on parole. Bill Pullman nails it here; I’ve never seen him play such an unlikeable character before, but he manages to be both convincing and charismatic here. It’s a superb performance.

Esther, meanwhile, is following up a mysterious email about a hush-hush old British organisation called Torchwood, which is “classified under the 456 regulations”. Her search for scarce information on this organisation leads her to some documents, including photographs of Gwen and Captain Jack Harkness. It’s at this point that Jack arrives, and saves her from a mysterious (and, as we’ll find out, unfortunate) suicide bomber by grabbing her and jumping out of the window. Esther now learns that it’s Jack who’s been destroying all Torchwood records to protect Gwen, and that Torchwood is a kind of defunct British X-Files. Unfortunately for her Jack has, of course, used retcon.

Jack is carrying out investigations of his own, though (at one point posing as “Owen Harper” of the FBI- nice!), and Gwen can’t help but be drawn into things. It starts with her dad suffering a heart attack, leading her and Rhys to travel to Cardiff. Here she learns about Miracle Day from now-Sergeant Andy. Apparently TV and Internet reception is not much good in West Wales and, in spite of owning such a nice house, neither she nor Rhys can afford a smartphone. It’s a nice scene, though and, as ever with RTD, the little touches of the family’s relationship are wonderful.

Sneaking away with Andy to do some investigation (which Rhys has declared verboten), Gwen soon discovers that the “miracle” is only affecting humans, and that population growth is such that society has four months until it collapses. At this point we get a blazing row between her and Rhys, who doesn’t want his wife and daughter getting involved in any of this very, very dangerous stuff.

Esther’s forgotten the previous night’s events, but as soon as she (eventually) gets into work she’s handed a file which will, presumably, jog her memory. While speaking to Rex on the phone she discovers the connection between Miracle Day and Torchwood; that mysterious email arrived at exactly the same time as the last recorded death on the planet. With this, Rhys discharges himself out of hospital and, in some very amusing scenes, hops on a plane and comes to Blighty.

Using information on Gwen, who joined Torchwood in October 2006 (hmm… surely that doesn’t fit with the “one year ahead” continuity?), Rex manages to rather efficiently find out where Gwen lives. He’s not so clever with the Severn Bridge toll, though; why doesn’t he just take a detour and drive around it?

As soon as Rex finds the house, all Hell breaks loose. There’s an initial stand-off, but the still-injured Rex soon collapses. Tying him up doesn’t work, but soon they’re all faced with a bigger problem; a mysterious helicopter, here to assassinate them. This leads to much coolness, with Gwen holding a big gun in one arm and a baby in the other. But this is the point at which Jack turns up, and his gun is even bigger. Still, it’s Gwen who eventually blows up the helicopter. And that’s not the only way in which she’s one up on him; now she’s immortal, and seemingly he’s not.

Just as their troubles seem over, though, Rex has them all kidnapped by the police (including a reluctant Andy), ready to be taken to America...

Torchwood: Children of Earth (Day Five)

“You’re shooting up on children? Our children?”

And so it ends. It ends fittingly and satisfyingly, if horribly. Torchwood is suddenly a much, much more grown up drama. This episode is from the pen of Russell T Davies. But, for the first time in the marathon, although we’ve had glimpses, this is the Russell T Davies of The Second Coming, not of Doctor Who; the writer up there with the likes of Nigel Kneale and Paul Abbott.

Right from the flash-forward to Gwen’s monologue at the start it’s clear that the stakes have risen yet again. No longer are we merely faced with the loss of 10% of the world’s children. It’s implicit in everything that happens here that there’s no chance of this happening without a complete breakdown of civilisation itself.

Not that this burning city is without its fiddlers, of course. The prime minister is as contemptible as always while the American general, who seems to have taken charge in a coup, now dips his hands right into the blood and waves them about in the plasma, ordering troops in to catch the remaining children. It is, of course, implicit that a version of last episode’s scene around the cabinet table happened in every country in the world, and there are no doubt also events worldwide which parallel the experiences of Gwen and Rhys. And the motive of the 456, finally revealed, is the most contemptible possible. And yet, in spite of the bleakness of the events and indeed of both human and 456 nature as shown here, there is hope. Not in Jack, as morally complex as ever, but where we least expected it; in the apparently cold Bridget Spears.

It’s established early on that the threat to civilisation itself means Torchwood’s threat of exposing the powers that be is pointless; they’ve lost. And Gwen and Rhys’ attempts to save those kids with Ianto’s sister is also doomed to failure- although it does go to show what decent sorts they are, which matters. Poor Lois, in custody, her cries ignored, seems also to have lost. Everyone, in a successive series of beats, turns out to have lost, the sequence terminating with Frobisher. The prime minister completely outdoes himself by ordering Frobisher to sacrifice his own daughters’ lives and then dismissing him with “And I’m really very busy.” This scene, once again, shows Peter Capaldi’s sublimity; the way his face reacts to this is acting of the very highest calibre.

The scene where Bridget Spears visits Lois and delivers her valedictory monologue for Frobisher is so beautifully written and performed, as the camera cuts between the cells to Frobisher, walking into the room containing his wife and daughters with his gun behind his backs. We hear three shots, a pause, and then finally a fourth. This is extraordinarily effective and powerful, one of the finest scenes British television in recent years has produced.

Things now take a turn for the worst, as the army is ordered in to forcibly take the 20% of children that remain uncollected. But suddenly there is also hope, as Liz Mary Brice’s increasingly ambiguous Black Ops Lady springs Jack. There is resistance, too; in the estate where Ianto’s sister lives but also among those who start pirate radio stations. All this is futile, though; the only hope is in Jack. And it’s a hopeless kind of hope. The sacrifice of Steven to the gods, Iphigenia style, is shown in all its horror, and the horrific visuals are as nothing compared to Alice’s reaction. Another stunningly shocking moment.

We then turn to the Caves of Androzani-style dénouement of this despicable prime minister’s career, as it turns out that Bridget Spears’ conversation with Lois was rather longer than the snippet we were shown, and she’s been recording the prime minister’s every self-incriminating statement on the Torchwood contact lenses. Perhaps the least likeable character turns out to be perhaps the most morally upright. And Lois, unexpectedly, is released.

The ending is inevitable; for Jack to just carry on would be to deny what he has done. But it’s hard to see where the series goes from here.

5/5, obviously. This is first class telly fit to stand alongside State of Play and The Second Coming.

So. Of the three Whoniverse shows, I’ve finally finished Torchwood. Only SJA and Doctor Who to go. Next: SJA series three, which I’ve never seen before…

Torchwood: Children of Earth (Day Four)

“…And if we can’t identify the lowest achieving ten per cent of this country’s children, then what are the school league tables for?”

I love the comically stereotypical Scottish incidental music in the flashback this episode. There aren’t many laughs in this not-entirely-cheery hour of telly, but this made me chuckle.

Of course, Children of Earth continues to be superlative. John Fay has done a particularly good job; this episode has an awful lot of heavy lifting to do in getting the plot from A to B and yet there are some sublime set pieces, one in particular. Yes. That one.

Back to the, er, flashback, we get some very interesting dialogue invoking sacrifices of virgins to the “ancient gods”. If you’ll indulge me indulging my inner pretentious git once more, this reminds me of Iphigenia, sacrificed by her father so that he can sail to Troy. I suppose this makes Jack a sort of Agamemnon, and therefore a kind of Greek tragic hero. Gosh. Could this be foreshadowing some kind of similar sacrifice, perchance? Interestingly (my inner pretentious git has buggered off now), this also harks back to Jack’s decision at the end of Small Worlds.

Meanwhile, Frobisher is talking to the 456 again, and one of the people watching from the camera is played by Nick Briggs. We finally get to see inside the tank, although we still don’t see much, which again makes what we do see all the more effective. And the sight of the child is not something quickly forgotten. This is the fate which awaits one in ten of the world’s children.

Oh, and the 456 drops the UK right in it. Earlier in the series the possibility of exposure was a major source of dramatic tension; it’s a sign of just how much the stakes have been raised that this longer seems important beyond again establishing how slimy the Prime Minister is.

We get a scene with Jack and Ianto early on, establishing the now worsening hairline cracks in their relationship. Ianto is now realising that their relationship is but a momentary blip for the immortal Jack, who will have forgotten him centuries hence. Like all of Jack’s relationships, theirs is inherently doomed. One way or another, they would never have survived this series as a couple. But that’s drama for you; it thrives on conflict, not “happy ever after”.

Oh, and we finally learn the name of Jack’s daughter: Alice.

But the meat of the episode is, of course, the debate round the cabinet table. It’s a bleak yet believable dramatisation of how those in power would react. The terrible euphemism of referring to children as “units”, the horrible inevitability of the final decision, and worst of all the moral cowardice of a Prime Minister who insists on all of the hard choices being made by others make up one of the finest scenes I’ve ever seen in all of television. Appallingly, the only person who says aloud what “everyone else is thinking”, and urges the extermination of the underclass, is in fact the least despicable of the all; at least she has the courage of her convictions. The others just sit silently and try to half persuade themselves that they haven’t really dipped their hands in the blood. Cowards. But all too believable. Even worse, in a way, is the attitude that of course their own offspring will be spared.

Of course, there’s one person around the table who’s right at the other end of the moral spectrum. Poor Lois. So brave. So utterly doomed. Cush Jumbo is brilliant here.

Then things are moving fast. Torchwood’s makeshift HQ is apparently rumbled, but it’s all part of the plan. Except that, clever as the execution may be, it’s ultimately not a very good one. Just straightforwardly confronting the enemy may be old-fashioned and honourable, but it was never going to work. Jack is overreacting here; it’s the guilt from 1965. That time he sacrificed twelve children, this time he’s sacrificed the hundreds of inhabitants of the building. Including Ianto.

Ianto’s death is unbelievably heartbreaking. Not because it’s a cruel end to a potentially loving relationship, but because it isn’t. Their final words to each other are defined by the earlier scene, in which Ianto realises that Jack’s immortality means he will never mean as much to Jack as Jack means to him and their relationship cannot last much longer. The exchange of “I love you, I…” / “Don’t!” says it all. Ianto dies knowing Jack never loves him and will eventually forget him.

Still, perhaps things might cheer up a bit next episode?

Torchwood: Children of Earth (Day Three)

“John Frobisher’s a good man. And, better than that, he’s expendable.”

Blimey, it’s Trinity Wells again!

Last episode was getting the pieces into position; this time there’s a lot going on and lots are revealed. And in spite of some nice humorous moments courtesy of RTD and James Moran’s script, this is a tense and dramatic episode.

The gang are back together, and after a few minutes of The Real Hustle they can start to plan their fightback. And it’s an interesting fightback. The thefts are morally compromising in an obvious but arguably petty way, but Gwen’s use of Lois is arguably worse, especially in terms of Kantian morality, quite blatantly using another person as a means and not an end, if I can just be a pretentious git for a minute. Lois says “Giving you information is one thing, but that’s putting me right on the front line.” This talk of the “front line” means I can’t help but wonder if we’re looking at a parallel with the prime minister’s rather cowardly comments to Frobisher last episode. Instinctively I think not, but the parallels in the dialogue mentioning the “front line” are striking.

Meanwhile, Jack and Ianto are having another one of those conversations where Jack doesn’t quite open up as much as Ianto would like. They fail to get intimate in more ways than one, but everything’s ok because there’s talk about Jack watching Ianto grow old and die. This in no way tempts fate or indicates anything bad is going to happen to Ianto. I’m sure things will be fine.

We get hints at this point that Jack is morally compromised to a much greater degree than Gwen, as we get our first hint about his links to the incident in 1965.

Lois, on the other hand, is brave, heroic and incredibly resourceful. I suspect she won’t have a happy ending, not after Gwen offered her a potential job last episode. I love her way of getting a world-wearily resentful Bridget Spears to include her in the activity at Thames House. Spears’ “You’re not the first, you know,” speaks volumes about both her (repressed?) feelings for Frobisher and of course Frobisher himself.

The big moment is, of course, “We are here.” And the children pointing. This section is, once again, brilliantly shot. The visuals of the aliens hidden in the glass behind an opaque gas are superbly effective. Less is more. And the tension in Frobisher’s initial dialogue with the 456 is palpable. The long pauses, the subdued lighting, the slight hint of claws and the magnificence of Peter Capaldi give this scene such incredible power. Oh, and the vomiting. That too. And the magnificence of Peter Capaldi, every second he’s on screen, just can’t be emphasised enough.

It’s amusing to see the PM get a right good telling off from the military representative of UNIT and the USA (where have I seen the American actor from?), but of course the fallout is that the PM drops Frobisher even further in it. It’s clear from the conversation in the lift that Spears understands this.

But then we’re reminded that Frobisher is far from being a saint as he speaks on the phone to Jack who, we’ve already established, is equally compromised following the events of 1965. Yet, although each is able to threaten the other’s children, Frobisher knows that Jack won’t act on his threats “because you’re a better man than me.”

There’s just one short light-hearted interlude, in which we learn how you can do almost as many things with a pair of contact lenses as you can with a stopwatch, before we’re back to the heavy stuff. The 456, with their silences and monosyllabic comments, are sinister as hell. They seem to be colluding in the cover-up with Frobisher. Oh, and they want ten percent of all the children in the world. And just when we think things can’t get any worse, Clem forces Jack to tell the truth: he personally handed twelve kids over to the 456 back in 1965. I’m sure everyone watching had already worked it out, but it’s a powerful ending nonetheless.

Torchwood: Children of Earth (Day Two)

“If you’re the bad guys, why doesn’t it say that on your file? And, if you’re the good guys, who am I working for?”

RTD hands over to John Fay, whose dialogue (polished by RTD though it must be) doesn’t quite sparkle as much. This is still brilliant, though, much as it doesn’t actually advance the plot very far. It’s about the character moments, and the fun and fascination of seeing our heroes regroup from their lowest point until they’re ready to fight back.

We start with Ianto and Gwen, dirty, shocked, with the whole world suddenly against them. These scenes are brilliantly shot by Euros Lyn, and give a real sense of paranoia. We’re then quickly reminded that Frobisher, who is generally presented to us with sympathy, is the one who has ordered this cold-blooded assassination. And here’s the sinister Dekker again, revealing that the 456 have asked the British government to built something without telling them what it is. Things are going all A for Andromeda.

There’s comedy too, of course, not least with Tom Price being great, as usual, as PC Andy. I love his “I mean, we’re not going in there all guns blazing, are we?” followed by the clicking of the guns!

Gwen- and Rhys- are on the run, the enemy has eyes everywhere, and as both of their accounts have been frozen they can’t even withdraw any money. Everything between the two of them is great. They’re a fantastic couple, and I love Rhys’s lines. And that it’s his knowledge of the haulage industry that allows them to get down to That London. Better still is Gwen’s revelation that she’s pregnant. You just have to love the pair of them.

Ianto’s interaction with his family is great, too; it’s fab how everyone just rallies round. I love the army of chavs which distracts the government surveillance agents so that Ianto’s sister (what’s her actual name, he asked, knowing he’ll be googling it within minutes?) can sneak away to meet Ianto.

Oh, and there’s a scene early on where Ianto sees a copy of The Times. The wonders of the pause button tell me that it’s “Wednesday September 2009”. Aren’t all these present day Whoniverse stories supposed to be set one year in the future, then? Has someone much cleverer than me been keeping count to see if it all fits or not? Am I the only one sad enough to think about this? Don’t answer that! The pause button also shows Gwen’s date of birth at one point. She’s a year younger than me. I feel old.

There’s more ominous-sounding emphasis of the 456 only contacting the UK. And also more evidence of what an utter **** the prime minister is. His comments to Frobisher are toe-curling: All I’ve done is put you on the front line. That’s what the front line’s for, John. First to fall.”

And then… “We are coming… tomorrow!” it’s all going to kick off.

Questions about Jack that we’ve all wondered are answered here as the remaining bits of him gradually, painfully and horribly heal to become a living body. And his fate is horrible- encased inside a concrete block, fated to die painfully of asphyxiation again and again, a fate worthy of Dante’s Inferno, for all eternity. Or the rest of the episode, anyway.

Lois makes her fateful choice in meeting Gwen and Rhys, explaining to them that the Government really does want them dead, and literally committing treason on only her second day at work. This is a very big decision and a very big deal; the Official Secrets Act is a very serious thing. I can’t remember how this ends for her but, unfortunately, I suspect she’s going down. A shame, because she’s a good person who’s doing the right thing for the right reasons. I love that she approaches the whole thing like a PA!

Gwen and Ianto’s rescue mission, wrapping up the episode, fails as we knew it must, only for Ianto to save the day with a forklift truck. The gang are all back together, and next episode seems likely to be eventful…

Torchwood: Children of Earth (Day One)

“Severn Bridge… I’m going into England. Farewell forever.”

“Good luck. Have you got currency?”

“Yes, and I’ve had my injections.”

Right. Well, that’s an awful lot of notes for a single hour-long episode. No way am I waiting until I’ve finished and then writing one big review; there’s so much going on in this episode alone. Expect five separate posts on this thread in the near future, all of which should be quite unnecessarily long. Next one probably not till Sunday or Monday though; pub quiz, pub, possibly pub again, possibly some non-pubby stuff, etc. The rest should follow through next week.

Anyway, this is bloody good so far. And I mean I, Clavdivs / The Sopranos / The Wire/ State of Play / The Second Coming bloody good, although a comparison to something by Nigel Kneale might be more appropriate. I might as well say it before I’ve even said anything; I won’t vote until I’m reviewing Day Five, but there’s zero chance of this getting anything less than a 5/5 if the rest is as good as I remember. Still, pre-Marathon viewings don’t count, so I’ll try and ignore them.

For such a long story the story doesn’t waste time in getting straight to the plot; first there’s the flashback in 1965 Scotland, then all of the children on Earth… stop. And the reaction develops, slowly. First, though, we get some of Torchwood’s obligatory shots of Cardiff in the style of Angel. Then Gwen says “What’s occurring?” BBC Wales have obviously been making Gwen & Stacy in the Whoniverse, no doubt following on from their success with the revival of Professor X. Sorry.

Gwen and Rhys have a lovely, loving, easy relationship right through the episode; their issues have been dealt with. Issues are coming to the fore with Jack and Ianto, though, as we get several hints that Ianto wants to put their relationship on a more official standing. Oh dear. The rules of TV drama do not decree that this bodes well... what was that you just said to Ianto, Jack? “No, you get killed, not me. You die like a dog, an ugly dog.” Hmm. Still, this Rupesh looks a nice bloke. Bet he joins the team.

We get a nicely economic introduction to new characters Lois Habiba, the rather scary Bridget Spears, and Mr Frobisher, played with absolute sublimity by the magnificent Peter Capaldi. We’re on Lois’ side from the beginning- she’s running late as we meet her, which automatically garners our sympathy- while Bridget Spears is portrayed essentially from Lois’ POV. So we side with the likeable Lois as she slides down the slippery slope of committing more and more naughty offences against the Official Secrets Act…

A couple of namedrops later (Martha’s on honeymoon and that Colonel Mace is somewhere near Vancouver), and the children stop again, and start shrieking. Then come words: “We are coming.” Ooh. And this is worldwide. And in English. And, as Rhys cleverly points out, deliberately aimed at the British school run and British school break times. Oh, and there’s one 55 year old man in a mental institution saying it all too. There’s a lot going on; for a slow-paced, character-based drama this feels pretty pacey.

Things get even creepier with the appearance of Dekker, a strange kind of cross between the Cigarette Smoking Man from The X-Files (you’d never get away with such a character in today’s abstemious times!) and Sir Humphrey Appleby from Yes, Minister. He knows of “the 456”, and where the bodies are buried. Plus, he has no kids, so is he bovvered?

Frobisher has a short interview with the Prime Minister, who immediately ducks all responsibility for a difficult decision, the “blank page”, showing himself to be a moral coward. Capaldi’s facial expression here is just superb. He’s already under intolerable pressure and things can only get worse.

Our three Torchwood operatives get their individual family visits, all, fascinating. For Gwen the family connection is a little oblique (Clem can tell she’s pregnant) but the parallels and contrasts between Jack’s and Ianto’s expeditions to find a child are fascinating, seeing as both are prepared to use their own flesh and blood as guinea pigs. Gosh, could this be foreshadowing?

We see Jack’s daughter and grandson. And, while the fact that he never ages is a source of inevitable difficulty for his ageing descendents, this is very much secondary to the fact he just can’t be trusted. Ianto’s reaction with his sister, on the other hand, is much more natural and warm. RTD has a real gift for portraying the way working-class families talk to one another.

Oh dear: the blank page is a signal to kill a named list of people, one of whom is Jack. And the fact that this is communicated by the pre-arranged signal of a blank page (interesting how Frobisher now himself delegates the dirty work to Bridget Spears), so no one can possibly find out. Except, er, by email- nice little comment on the stupidity of keeping too much official information on official databases there. And Lois sees what’s happening.

The black ops team gets to work, not-so-nice Rupesh is one of them, and Jack gets shot. Twice. With a bomb being shoved inside his stomach in-between. Oh, and the team leader shoots Rupesh for good measure. This woman is bad-ass.

There’s one last nice little contrast (both Gwen and Jack have something inside them) until the Torchwood Hub blows sky-high. Even if they survive this, they’re now hunted fugitives. And the kids are at it again. And Peter Capaldi is shouting at his kids to stop. This is so, so good.