Doctor Who: Before the Flood

"My first proper alien, and he's an idiot!"

So perhaps this second episode doesn't quite maintain the superlative quality of its excellent predecessor. Ah well. No criticism implied, really: they don't, as a whole, for narrative reasons. Second parts are functional. Plot, plot, plot. There's less time for atmosphere, set pieces, witty lines, coolness. And this episode suffers from that, as second episodes always do. But it still rounds out a superb two parter. Well done, Toby Whithouse. This is by some distance the best Who you've ever done. It's also the one where you've played the most with structure and timey-wimeyness. These two facts are connected.

The pre-titles, in which the Doctor does a bit of violence to the fourth wall, is a nice example of the latter. There are slight grounds for criticism here, perhaps, in that the Bootstrap Paradox ("Google it") isn't much of a big deal to anyone who's sci-fi literate, and doesn't justify such a big build-up. Also, isn't it all a bit Back to the Future II? But we should remember that this is a popular BBC drama aimed at a general audience.

No; if we are to criticise, we should start by conceding the point that this is a superb forty-five minutes of television, but then ask ourselves at whom it is aimed. The plot is complex, and asks a lot of its audience. Is it, perhaps, too complex for kids? I note that it was broadcast at 8.25pm: scheduling like this is clearly not done with children's bedtimes in mind. I, for one, am loving this season, and loved the last. They are probably the best seasons, for me, since 2005. But should people like me really be the target audience.

Whatever. I've said these things before and the final ratings and AI figures have always proved me wrong. If it can ultimately be shown that this season's apparent drop in viewers reflects something more than changes in how television is watched these days then it'll be time to worry. And "worry" is relative. Doctor Who is and remains a BBC flagship. Don't worry about ratings. Perhaps you should worry about John Whittingdale, but that's for another day.

So, what else? It's a surprisingly small part for Paul Kaye, although amusing. I noticed Corey Taylor's roar, at last a little something for us metalhead fans. It looks like the guitar is here as a recurring prop, Peter Capaldi's version of Troughton's recorder. Oh, and McDonnell's mention of the "Minister of War" is clearly seeding something for later in the season.

Bottom line: another excellent episode. Doctor Who is still in the midst of its current golden age. And next week looks good. Is it me, though, but isn't there an awful lot of talk of certain death between the Doctor and Clara? We know Clara is leaving: is her death being foreshadowed?

Doctor Who: Under the Lake

"Two weeks of "Mysterious Girl" by Peter Andre- I was begging for the brush of Death's merciful hand."

The obvious point to make about this two-parter, from what we've seen so far, is that it seems to be playing interesting structural games with the two parter format- the first episode is set in the later time period and the second in an earlier period, meaning that the first episode sets up a puzzle to be solved by the second. In other words, the two halves of the story are in different time zones: sort of The Ark in reverse.

The less obvious point, though, is how resolutely traditional this episode feels: a base under siege with all the narrative short cuts that implies and, brilliantly, the first time since the series came back in 2005 that we've had a proper, old-fashioned, first episode which has time to breathe, explore the environment the TARDIS lands in and set up the mystery. I suspect that this, as much as the structural playing, may have been the original aim of Toby Whithouse in writing this. This may be a deeply and exaggeratedly traditional episode of Who, but it also manages to lovingly deconstruct traditional Who in doing so. The Doctor can hardly help pointing out all the tropes of the base-under-siege story he finds himself in. I love this sort of metatextual fun.

Oh, and it's also the scariest episode in yonks.

Other positives: not only do we have a deaf character, whose first language is BSL, but she's in charge. The script is delightfully witty, and the chemistry between the Doctor and Clara is perfect; I love the bit with the cue cards! The ghosts look brilliant- oh, and one of them is a Tivoli, one of whom was played by David Walliams in The God Complex. And the cliffhanger is brilliant.

I'll refrain from praising this too highly until I've seen the second episode- this feels like half of a puzzle- but so far I'm very, very impressed.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: Arabella

"I merely asked questions. Surely that is the prerogative of any pupil?"

This is the episode where all turns dark. Strange, up till now both a member of the landed gentry and of the Establishment, hob-nobbing with cabinet ministers and the future Duke of Wellington, has his fall. He is widowed (sort of), disgraced (sort of), imprisoned and well on the way to madness. It is worth asking why Susanna Clarke punishes the character so. Simple narrative reasons? Hubris? Or are there deeper themes at work?

Strange's devastation at the loss of his wife is total. The current breast with his conventional brother-in-law- an old-fashioned country parson who still wears a wig in the late 1810s- is instructive. Strange, at first, seems to be the more together of the two but, while Henry goes through deep mourning and thus finds acceptance, Strange remains obsessed with the resurrection of his wife through magic, and this is his apparent undoing. There is much in this to support the theory that Strange represents the Romantic movement as opposed to the old-fashioned values of the Enlightenment, empiricist philosophy and high Whiggery which can be attributed to Norrell, at least superficially.

But is this too easy a conclusion? Yes, Strange has his archetypal fall, like Prometheus and any number of flawed tragic heroes. But he is an awkward fit with the tragic model, always retaining something of the manner of the unflappable fop, a sort of Sir Percy Blakeney of wizardry. I'll admit it's been almost a decade since I read Susanna Clarke's excellent novel, but both Peter Harness' script and Bertie Carvel's increasingly sublime performance seem to pointedly resist any suggestion of the conventional tragedy. There is also the fact that, as with Lady Pole, we are looking at a tragedy straight out of the darkness of pre-Grimm fairy tales. Perhaps the point is simply that life is capriciously harsh (making faeries a good metaphor) and we must be stoic. But we shal see how my views evolve.

Otherwise, the episode looks sublime, as always, courtesy of Toby Haynes. Bertie Caevel is extraordinary now he is suddenly given more demanding material, fully justifying his recent promotion to the A list of television actors. Both of the two female characters (Arabella and Lady Pole) in this very male world have now  been stripped of all agency by masculine design, quite literally. And we have a failed but very interesting attempt by Strange to reach agreement with Norrell which is stifled by the slimy Lascelles. Increasingly, it is Notrell's view of magic which holds sway in England and, increasingly, Strange is opposed to his Augustan Age reason and neatness. 

Oh, and there's a very interesting meeting between Strange and Childermass in which Norrell's manservant shows just how aware and able he is: potentially as great as either of the two magicians, he is hobbled by his social class. 

We end, though, with Strange at a seemingly low ebb, seeking faeries and madness. Once again this is a splendid piece of telly, written and shot to avoid the obvious readings and make the viewer think. Two episodes left...

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: All the Mirrors of the World

A guest post once again from MrVortexOfDoom, whose YouTube us most definitely worth a look for those of us who like to see excellent reconstructions of '60s Doctor Who. We will be splitting Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell between us. So, without further ado...

Jealousy Shines Through

Episode 4: All the Mirrors Of The World – 

an alternative review by MrVortexOfDOOM.

“You must learn to live as I do - in the face of constant criticism, opposition and censure. That, sir, is the English way”

Storytelling 101 states that, in any adaptation, screenplay or script, your start should be strong and your ending should be sharp and clean, possibly one that not many people expect. But they never say much about the middles. They are the great unknown of fiction and storytelling. So, if, in my mind, you get all the threads to meet up with not much casualty of plot, you are doing pretty well.

Episode Four is the midpoint, the point where the show is treading water, ready for its explosive last episodes. Or that’s how it should be. However, by a very clever sleight of hand (worthy of Vinculus himself), the series merges three key elements (which normally could bog down the script) into a dynamic sequence propelling you into the second half. From Gatcombe and Tantony (the Nottinghamshire brewers) to the King's Roads and beyond to Drawlight's unveiling is a fantastic sequence which must have been a nightmare to edit being as it is a mix of little-glimpsed sequences, episode parts, asides and nuances.

Plus, the episode has to introduce the major theme of madness in magic by the back door while keeping all the existing strands alive. Strange's trip through the Kings Roads for the first time. Lady Pole being sent to Segundus & Honeyfoot's Starecross (which I believe is referred to as the madhouse/asylum/Bedlam for the first time). Drawlight and Lascelles as Norrell's Jekyll and Hyde continuing their campaign of spite and manipulation. Plus the massive revelations with George the Third, which, here, is edited down to the bare bones, but still manages to keep some of its menace. 

In the promo pictures before the series aired, the bloody Childermass image at the location of the Hanged Man had a mirror instead of a face. And the country scene on the inside of the piano looked exactly like one of the bridges on the King's Roads between our land and the land of Faerie. It is true that you learn something every time you watch.

The series also continues to reward you with the entrancing mix of humour and practical drama. The practical natural aspects of the summoning spell. Colquhoun Grant being hilariously professional in the background while Jonathan and Arabella are having their domestic. The reference to the Cinques Dragownes (the magical court) which takes up a hefty chapter of the book.

And the acting gongs which this week go for me to Edward Hogg & Brian Pettifer as Segundus and Honeyfoot as Starecross gets its dynamite first client. Love John all serious, dressed up in his evil doctor's white coat. 

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The picture of John Uskglass in the King's palace manages to be spooky, prescient and yet a precise summary of the last three episodes all at once. You feel that only a superior natural magician of high standing and power could perform the miracles that we have so far seen. But with the frosting of the mirrors, the boundaries between the worlds are cracking – and nothing will be the same again.

VoD 2015

Humans: Episode 4

"I'm an analogue man in a digital world..."

The usual excellence continues in terms of script, execution and performances, but this time the plot gathers pace. I haven't minded the slow pace of the plot so far- it's been fun exploring this fascinating world and characters- but now it's time for things to pick up pace. And that's what we get.

Our first bombshell is when Pete, our distinctly robophobic sacked detective, gets dumped, cuckolded (symbolically, at least) by a synth called Simon. But soon we turn back to our main family, as Anita seems to show affection towards Toby and Joe wrongly suspects Laura of having an affair. The point is, though, that their relationship is in such a state that he could think such a thing. Laura, meanwhile, gets ever more intrigued about Anita and her increasing signs of sentience ("Anita, do you ever get scared?" "I think everyone does").

A line gets crossed, though, when Joe activates Anita's sex drive and does the deed with her. I suppose there's a debate to be had about whether this was technically sex or masturbation, but there's no doubt that he's cheated on Laura. And it's implicit that he will eventually be found out, especially as Laura wants to take Anita for a diagnostic check and to delve into her past.

A linked ethical dilemma occurs at a party for the youngsters: Mattie behaves, quite rightly, as though having sex with an unconscious synth is rape. Because, if men behave like that to synths, even those without sentience, they will do the same to women. But, of course, the underlying thought (most blatantly shown by the case of the woman objecting to her synth being ejected from a theatrical performance on grounds of his "human" rights) is about the ethics of how we should behave to artificial intelligences. At what point does it stop being a household appliance and start being an enslaved person? The answer, I suppose, lies in the concept of the Singularity.

There's an intriguing meeting between Mattie and Leo, but it isn't long before she rather cleverly gives them the slip. Still, he and Max are clearly getting closer and closer to "Mia". Laura and Joe discover more about her at the diagnostic check, too: far from being new, she's at least fourteen years old. Still, at least Joe's infidelity remains a secret for now.

Things really hot up at the end with the respective plotlines of Leo and Niska. Firstly, Leo meets Geirge Mullican and reveals that he is Leo Elster, the apparently dead son of the mysterious David Elster, who apparently granted sentience to Mia, Max, Niska and Fred.  It seems, also, thT a mysterious program is written into all of them, with all needing to be together for the jigsaw to be complete.

Niska's storyline, though, gets disturbing. Discovering not only prejudice against synths but a secret club for humans to beat synths into a synthetic pulp, she responds by angrily beating up the humans, only to find that the synths she "rescued" are nothing but uncaring machines. Still, this means war between Niska and humanity; her storyline isn't going to end well. We end the episode with her capture by the police seemingly inevitable except that she receives an unexpected phone call. Leo drops his bombshell and, in rather thrilling scenes, she escapes. 

There's one final surprise, though; Katen has accepted Peter into her home for the time being and we're misdirected into thinking that there may be sexual tension between them until the final few seconds and the big reveal: Karen is a synth!!! This is all the more effective for the cleverness of the misdirection.

Humans, at this point, is by far the best thing that's been on telly this year. Utterly superb.

Humans: Episode 2

"The synths steal their job; they steal the synth."

Well, it seems as though the second episode is no less superlative than the first. This is intelligent, literate, hard sci-fi which is so damn good that it's Scandinavian roots are showing. We have a solid plot, strong characters, a well-developed theme and visual flair. This reminds me, more than anything, of Borgen.

Gemma Chan continues to astonish with a performance of outstanding subtlety. The part of Anita- an apparent automaton with slight hints of humanity and a distinctly maternal instincts- is particular challenging as the viewer is carefully studying each individual mannerism and modulation of voice. It's a stern test, but one that is passed admirably by her, and to s lesser extent by those laying other synths. But a special mention has to go to Rebecca Front, cast against type as a tyrannical nurse synth, dispassionately bullying William Hurt's sympathetic George. 

Laura is increasingly and incrementally creeped out by Anita, hence the seemingly decisive ending. Laura may not be the most sympathetic character, being a workaholic who struggles to connect with her husband and children and sees Anita as a threat to her role, but she continues to be our identification character. Matilda, meanwhile, is our rebel. How and the younger two children are, thus far, passive characters who exist in terms of Laura's character developments; Joe is there, in contrast to Laura, as a character seeing synths as no more than household appliances.

The most disturbing scenes involve Niska, and a paedophile client; disgusted, she kills him and flees, in grave danger but, at least, true to herself. Of her fellow fugitives we seem to learn that Leo is some kind of cyborgs but the others- Fred, Max and Mia ("Anita")- are presumably synths? I'm sure we'll get the backstory in due course.

As yet it's far from clear where this is going, but I'm hooked. This is an extraordinary piece of drama.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: How Is Lady Pole?

Something different today: a guest post from MrVortexOfDoom, whose YouTube channel you would be wise to have a look at, particularly if you happen to be partial to a bit of Doctor Who.

He and I will be alternating episodes of this splendid serial, and then going head to head for the finale.

That's the compere bit over with; let me hand you over to MrVortexOfDoom...

“I see no one. Or rather, I see roomfuls of people – and not a Christian amongst them”

What really annoys me about peoples’ appreciation of British telly is the fact that we in Britain can't recognise the fantastic and clever product being made in our backyard – while Americans lap quality like this up. Of course, our friends in the US regularly have at least a dozen hours of superb product to digest per week – while all we seem to want is more reality nonsense and documentaries about cats. 

Episode two of “The TV fantasy of 2015” (according to Rolling Stone .com , don’t’cha know) deals this out in spades. Having just finished rereading the fantastic novel by Susanna Clarke, you realise several things. 

1. Somehow, the BBC has managed to get the film rights back from New Line Cinema after the film giant collapsed – that’s why the adaption has taken 10 years to get to us. 

2. How much of an epic struggle it has been to get the monster 782 pages down to a workable mini-series.

And:  3. How much of a challenge it is to pack the iconic scenes into each episode. You read the chapter on the French discovering the rainships & the epic Sandhorses sequence and you think “well, I’m never going to see THAT on screen”. And then, they only go and show it. A brilliant &  breath-taking achievement.

However, what really is striking me about this is the attention to detail, taken faithfully from the novel. Writer Peter Harness could easily have chosen to cut the references to antiquarian times and antiquarian books of magic in favour of seven episodes of CGI and effects. But instead, in a bold move that’s not pleasing everyone, you really feel that the past history of magic is oozing through every minute. I cheered at every namecheck of days long gone – Sutton-Grove, Ormskirk, Mary Absalom, Ralph Stokesey, Lanchesters’ History Of Birds (and a wonderful set-up with Revelations Of Thirty-Six Worlds – which has a great pay-off later (I hope)).

And as well as all that, the episode continues to lay further intriguing questions at your feet. The constant cawing of ravens through the soundtrack. The influence of Fairie and the real world gradually being intertwined (Segundus & Stranges’ shared dream and Stephen's mysterious extra servants bell). The very fact that Segundus can sense magic being performed (store that in your mind palace for later). And a second lovely little set-up with the St Marks Square, Venice paintings. 

Of course, you could just discount all that and go goggle-eyed about how FANTASTIC Lost-Hope looks. But that would be a disservice to the source material and the sheer effort put in to what was considered in many areas an unfilmable novel. 

Enzo Cilenti as Childermass continues to rule every scene he’s in, looking moody in the background (it’s a fun game to spot just how much he’s taking in and observing). However, top billing for episode 2 in my eyes must go to Alice Englert and Bertie Carvel. Englert's Lady Pole starts to unravel badly with all the “fairy stories” taken directly from the text. And Strange himself is starting to believe just how far he can go in the magical world – with just one person standing in his way. 

And here’s a top piece of trivia for regular llama stranglers. Alice Englert's mother? Of all people, Jane Campion !! (Oscar-winning director of The Piano, In the Cut and the Top Of The Lake miniseries). If that juicy morsel doesn’t get you looking forward to episode 3, I don’t know what will.

VoD 2015  

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: The Friends of English Magic

"All magicians lie, that one more than most..."

I've been looking forward to this dries for ages; I loved the novel. Susanna Clark really has written a wonderful work of fiction, a Regency magical fantasy that wonderfully fuses the world of Jane Austen and Patrick O'Brian with that of Neil Gaiman, building a wonderfully compelling world and peopling it with fascinating individuals. Go and read it now.

I had high hopes, therefore, of this series, and so far (I'm actually three episodes in) my hopes have been entirely full. It's a largely faithful adaptation by Peter Harmess, with a little necessary structural jiggery pokers so that Jonathan Strange can be involved early on, made visually sumptuous by the ever-creative Toby Haynes, one of the best directors currently working in British telly. But s large part of its triumph lies in the wise decision to leave so much of the novel unchanged to the point that I frequently findyself recognising pieces of dialogue.

Bertie Carvel, fresh from playing Nick Clegg in Coalition, is a triumph as the charismatic and chaotic Strange, while Eddie Marsan slightly underwhelms as the sour and miserly Norrell, although I'm aware that others have praised his performance. Still, I must also praise Paul Kaye for a splendidly mad Vinculus (but is he an uncomfortable Jewish Fagin stereotype or am I overthinking things?)and Marc Warren, whose performance as the sinister Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair is magnificent. Also impressive, albeit in the smallish part of Drawlight,is Vincent Franklin, whose performance in Cucumber should rightfully elevate him to leading man status.

It's early days yet, and this episode is, as always for first episodes, set-up. But it does a good job of achieving said set-up, nicely establishing Jonathan Strange as someone expected (not least by his own father) to end up as a rich, useless dilettante but who ends up pursuing magic to impress his belle, Arabella. Norrell's miserable and awkward nature is established, as well as his Faustian pact with the Gentleman. It's clear that we have a Roundhead magician and a budding Cavalier one. I'm also impressed with Childermass, at this stage far more interesting than his employer.

So far so excellent, but let's see how it goes...