A View from a Hill

 "I can't explain it..."

I confess I've never read any M.R. James, just as I've never read and H.P. Lovecraft or Robert E. Howard- I suppose, like many people, and without thinking about it, I tend to gravitate towards novels without considering short stories. I really ought to correct that.

I mention this to excuse the fact that I've now seen a good half dozen or so of his stories as adaptred on the BBC as Ghost Stories for Christmas. And I'm beginning to detect a pattern to many of them- a distant, unholynevil from the past ensnares a curious scholar with temptations of knowledge, slowly luring him to his doom. It's a simple formula, and one that can be easily repeated without going stale.

This story fits the template exactly. Young and awkward academic Dr Fanshawe visits a friendly local squire, stoically philosophical about his financially straitened existence, in order to catalogue some archaeological relics. But what whe finds are some unusual binoculars which tempt him slowly, inexorably, gentle BBC jump scare by gentle BBC jump scare, to the gallows.

It's superb, of course. Well directed, with the entire cast excelling. It's fun to see David Burke as the sinister butler trope, but it's Mark Letheren who truly excels as the shy, solitary Dr Fanshawe.

Overall, good stuff. And yes- I will indeed be watching several such stories between now and Christmas Day.

The War of the Worlds: Part 3

"I should like a bacon sandwich."

Sigh. I've been procrastinating about watching this final episode and yes, like the series as a whole, it just isn't very good. Is there any way I can avoid this blog post just consisting of me metaphorically putting this 55 minutes of telly over my knee for a sound spanking?

Well, no one sets out to make bad telly. It's well shot, particularly the action sequences with the CGI Martian. The acting is not so much bad- everyone is competent- but, Robert Carlyle aside, lacking in charisma. And you can see glimpses at times of the fact that Peter Harness is the same writer who has done so much good stuff in the past- the coda of Amy describing to little George is rather lovely. So is the ambiguous note of hope as the clouds seem to clear at the end. Will George live? Will Amy's and Ogilvy's typhoid cure be rolled out? Will they manage to grow crops and survive the winter? Will Ogilvy ever get that bacon sandwich? We can just about imagine that they might. Or not.

But such glimpses do not good telly make. Fundamentally, I think, the structure doesn't work. The first episode was ok, with its linear narrative and the fun of Edwardian Surrey facing an invasion from Mars, in spite of the charisma-free leads. But, for this episode and the last, the split narrative- the flashback to the invasion and the "present" day of the red weed and civilisation breaking down- not only makes the narrative actively less dramatic but adds nothing to the subtext or characters.

Yes, I can see that it would have been worse narratively to have an episode culminating in the Martians dying and another one on the later years of red weed and starvation. But why have the latter at all? If it's a crude metaphor for the climate crisis then it doesn't work; the red weed isn't man made, however much the subtext- in the original novel here and too didactically articulated by George here- may be that this is the British Empire getting its just desserts. Nor do I like how George's idealism is shown as naive and unrealistic. I'm no socialist- my heroes are John Lilburne, John Maynard Keynes and Henry George, not Keir Hardie or the Webbs-  but I don't like how socialism is caricatured here.

I suppose, then, that this is quite well made. But the whole thing is woefully misconceived and, in spite of some good work in paces, sadly a bad piece of television.

The War of the Worlds: Part 2

"This isn't our planet any more."

Oh dear. The first episode was flawed but had promise, and Peter Harness is a writer with a good track record. Yet this second episode is a load of turgid dross that bodes I’ll for a final episode which I will only be watching because of this blog. What went wrong?

There were issues with the first episode, certainly. Rafe Spall has no charisma. And the original novel is perhaps more justly famous for the barriers it become than for its quality. But there’s nothing in this first episode to suppose a mess like this may follow. Essentially we have two narratives- a main one in 1905 after the initial invasion as chaos ensues but, eventually, the Martians die for reasons which aren’t entirely clear unless you happen to have read the novel or, indeed, seen any of the numerous screen versions. The framing narrative is set a few years later, on a much redder Earth, with the Martians long gone but their terraforming has seeming to have turned Earth into a red planet which is slowly becoming less capable of supporting humans- and, one assumes, more hospitable for those of Martian extraction.

This is an attempt to insert the current climate crisis into the story, essentially wrapping up the invasion early on after a number of set pieces so that we can focus on a theme which obviously resonates for our age. But this is ill-conceived; we still don’t care about the characters, particularly not George, and the constant striving in both narratives for the couple to reunite just simply fails to be interesting. Instead we are left with the ideals and while, yes, the obvious subtext is laudable, it feels very much crowbarred in. And what exactly is this saying? The climate crisis here isn’t man made, as ours is. The parallel is crude.

So yes- the tripods look good. So does the reddened world a few years on. Eleanor Tomlinson and Robert Carlyle are good. But the whole thing just fails as a drama and that is down, I’m afraid, to the script.

The War of the Worlds: Part 1

“I mean, something can’t erupt from Mars and end up in Surrey.”

I know, I’m a week behind, but here I am blogging this. After all, following Jonathan Strange I could hardly miss another adaptation of a classic geek novel by Peter Harness and while, I think, this isn’t quite as good- much like the source material, to be honest- it’s a solid and welcome return of War of the Worlds to its period roots- although why they set it a few years after the novel’s publication dare of 1898 I have no idea. Edward VII is king but the Tories are clearly in power, going by the prominent role of a monocle-free Uncle Joe Chamberlain, so it’s only a few years later- presumably 1902 as Ogilvy mentions Mars has been equally close in ‘94 and ‘98.. Why change the period so very slightly?

Nevertheless, the whole thing looks superb. That goes for both the period setting and the visual effects, which either goes light on the CGI or wears it lightly. The direction cannot be faulted. And the script takes an intelligent approach of taking Wells’ plot and approach and adding drama- so Wells’ unnamed narrator is now George, and he is scandalously living in sin with Amy while technically still incestuously married- and because his ex won’t sign the papers he won’t get a divorce until she dies. Ouch. All this, and the ensuing friction with George’s brother Frederick, adds depth. So does the use of the imperialistic Chamberlain as politician of choice- after all, the subtext of the novel is to turn the behaviour of the imperialistic British against us.

Eleanor Tomlinson is splendidly charismatic, and Robert Carlyle excels against type as the scholarly Ogilvy. But there’s a charisma vacuum in the person of Rafe Spall, who doesn’t make us like or care about George. So, in spite of the top notch production and Peter Harness’s script, I’m a little ambivalent, not only about Spall but whether Wells’ novel as source material can lead to good drama; there are reasons why it’s often been departed from.

Let’s hope the remaining two episodes don’t rely much on Spall.

Doctor Who: The Pyramid at the End of the World

"We must be wanted. We must be loved. To rule by fear is inefficient."

In just a couple of episodes the character of the season has shifted smoothly into what looks much more like an arc- or mini-arc at least- and there are ominous signs that this Doctor's days are numbered, as he first appears with a monologue which, I suspect, applies as much to himself as the situation as he ponders mournfully that "The end of your life has already begun", surely referring to more than the juxtaposed footage of two scientists having an off-day. This kind of thing is our first hint that Peter Harness and Steven Moffat (he'll be missed) have excelled themselves here.

This is a sequel both to last week, when we discovered how the monks have been running a deeply accurate simulation of Earth in order to conquer it, an to the Zygon Invasion two-parter which established both the fictional nation of Turmezistan, a (presumably) Central Asian hotspot where war threatens to break out between the USA, China and Russia, and the precedent that the Doctor is President of Earth during alien invasions, a conceit that saves us so many potentially tiresome scenes of the Doctor not being believed by the authorities. It's also nice to see a doing over of Bill's date with Penny, this time interrupted not be the Pope but by the Secretary General of the United Nations.

The big visual centre of the episode is, of course, the 5,000 year pyramid that has suddenly appeared, at an acute global flashpoint, but it's really all about ideas, as all the best ones are. The conceit of the doomsday clock helps to mount the tension, as does the monks' confident assertion that force is not necessary as they will simply be invited to assume absolute global power. The alternative is that life on Earth will soon end "by humanity's own hand"- and the truly clever bit is that the threat of nuclear war is just a very big red herring; there's a reason why we keep following those two scientists and their increasingly bad day.

All this is narrated superbly in a tightly written and philosophical script, and I love the concept of the threads.

An added layer of brilliance is that the monks need the true consent of someone on Earth with power- but any motive other than love won't work, and the supplicant summarily dies. And so we come to the deliciously horrifying ending; the doctor tracks down the lab in Yorkshire, saves the world, but is doomed to die because he's blind and can't use the combination to escape from the airlocked room. At last he has to confess to Bill that he's been blind, he's been lying to her, and her response is to surrender Earth to the monks and save the Doctor's sight, and his life. The moment arrives with a crushing inevitability and leaves us waiting impatiently for next week.

Wow. This season!

Doctor Who: The Zygon Inversion

"Why do you have a Union Jack parachute?"

"Camouflage."

"Camouflage?"

"Yeah. We're in Britain."

Wow. That's how you do it. A Part Two that outstrips Part One. Genius.

The structure of the whole thing is a marvel. The pre-titles bit, revealing the not-dead Clara in her very self-aware dream state in the pod, seems as though things are going to go a bit Forest of the Dead, but instead we get an episode that's all heart, centred around a superb speech by Peter Capaldi that uses a brave amount of screen time and is an acting tour de force. And if that's not enough we get not one but two extraordinary performances from Jenna Coleman. Oh, and Osgood rules. Oh, and there's a nice little moral about ceasefires, peace processes and not obsessing over past grievances that will hopefully get watched in Israel and Palestine.

Basically, the plot is clever, and the Osgood Box is a great big red herring; it's not objects but ideals that are important. This is a deeply and unusually satisfying plot resolution. Evil Clara, played with delicious malice by Jenna Coleman, even has a convincing change of heart and, in a brilliant stroke, becomes the second Osgood. Oh, and Osgood's first name is Petronella. And the Doctor's is Basil, apparently.

Another nice twist is that Kate (Jemma Redgrave underwhelms again, sadly)  was just pretending to be a Zygon, but at the end she almost threatens to act like her dad in Doctor Who and the Silurians, a nice little bit of character development that is, sadly, wasted on Redgrave's phones-in performance. Can we kill the character and put Osgood in charge soon, please? She's cool. Even the Doctor is a huge fan.

But one duff performance doesn't stop this from being a fine episode, and certainly the finest script amongst some stiff competition this season. Only thing is that all this foreshadowing of Clara's death (I'm unspoiled, but it's bleeding obvious) is getting deafening by now...

Doctor Who: The Zygon Invasion

"Well, you can't have the United Kingdom. There are already people living there. They'll think you want to pinch their benefits."

This is an awfully clever episode. At first it looks as though it's a traditional, RTD-style, alien invasion two parter. But it's also a very timely bit of political commentary about immigration and xenophobia, albeit this doesn't quite work. And the twist at the end, of course, reveals that everything we thought was wrong: Clara has been a Zygon since early in the episode. And... did they actually just kill Clara? Like that? A really low key exit for a massively important companion? I really think they may have done, you know.

For something that looks, on the surface, like the same sort of thing as The Sontaran Strategem and similar stories, this is a text full of, ahem, semiotic thickness. References and clever tricks abound. Yes, the method of bringing Osgood back may be predicable but a) Osgood's back, so yay, and b) there's a line about her being a "hybrid", which reminds us of what Davros said in The Witch's Familiar. This is just a mischievous bit of misdirection, of course, but it's clever. We get a nice bit of metatextual playfulness as Kate states that Terror of the Zygons took place in the "'70s, '80s", and it also turns out that it was none other than Harry Sullivan who invented a kind of Warriors of the Deep style genocide gas for the Zygons. Which the Doctor promptly nicked, no doubt declaring that Harry Sullivan was an imbecile.

What else? The Doctor, as a tribute to the JN-T era, wears question marks on his underpants. Kate summoning the Doctor at the start because of Zygons echoes her father doing the same forty years earlier. And, although UNIT is a much more feminine place these days, it still has Berks like Colonel Walsh who just want to blow stuff up. Walsh is played here by Rebecca Front who, with this and Humans, seems to mainly play hard faced bitches these days.

The cliffhanger is superb: Clara and Kate are both dead and Zygon Clara seems to blow up the Doctor. Get out of that one.

I'm impressed so far but I'll reserve judgement until I've seen the second part. There's a slight worry I have in that, although the scriptures to satirise the hysterical tabloid attitude to immigrants, there's no denying that immigrants are literally shown as the baddies free, much as the script tries to emphasise that both humans and Zygons encompass goodies and baddies. It's all very Malcolm Hulke, very Doctor Who and the Silurians (it's even the young Zygons specifically who are portrayed as the bigots), but... well, let's see what happens. 

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

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell: The Education of a Magician

"Can a magician kill a man by magic?"

"I suppose a magician might. But a gentleman never could."

And on we go. More creative direction from Toby Haynes, more faithful adaptation of the novel by Peter Harness and more top notch villainy from Marc Warren. This continues to be a superb piece of television fantasy for all the reasons mentioned previously. And now we're getting to the really good bits. Jonathan Strange's adventures in the Peninsular War were always my favourite part of the novel, and they're just as extraordinary here.

Norrell, back at home, is rather passive, but malevolently so. He intercepts the letters between Mr and Mrs Strange lest he lose control of information, and he callously informs Mrs Pole of her awful fate, and the fact that he will not help her, and sends Childermass to destroy her rather nice tapestry. She is collateral damage in the cause of "respectability". Yet Norrell does not come across as evil, merely obsessive and addicted to missing the point, a bit like a bad boss.

Strange, meanwhile, is slowly learning, in Portugal, to rely less on books and structure and more on gut instinct, as far from Norrell as a magician can get; order versus chaos. (And it's interesting to think of the Gentleman in those terms, is it not? Chaos seems to often equal faerie, hence Norrell's dislike). One knows instinctively that Norrell would not approve of his raising the dead. Wellington (a superb character) cares not; to him, "Merlin" may as well just be a military engineer, a problem solver at his disposal.

But the episode's most powerful scene belongs to Stephen Black, a character thus far as marginalised on the narrative as he is I the narrative, as the Gentleman shows his horrific birth among the chains and disease and death of a slave ship, reinforced by the simple question "What was the name your mother gave you?" Much as the Gentleman may dangle the prospect of kingship at Stephen, we know (as the Gentleman seemingly does not) that this could surely never happen.

The end of the episode- Childermass takes the bullet as Lady Pole attempts to assassinate Norrell- is shocking. But not as shocking as the scenes in the slave ship. It is clear that the novel, like the series, is not just a superlative Gaimanesque fantasy, but has things to say about the world. And it's bloody brilliantly, too.

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...

Doctor Who: Kill the Moon

"That's what you do with aliens, isn't it? Blow them up?"

Hmm. I didn't much like this one, and yet it got all the big things right. I loved the plot, I loved the beats of the story- and yet it didn't quite come off. The problem, I think, is that both the setting and central conceit with the fixed point in time just feel like a retread of The Waters of Mars. It must be said, too, that, yes, I quite like the more slowly paced style of this season, but this episode dragged.

It's the Moon (played by Lanzarote) in 2049 and not, as some reading pre-publicity would have up believe, Sarn (played by Lanzarote). People have stopped going into space because they can't be arsed, a bit like The Seeds of Death. Things have been getting desperate, the moon had been getting heavier and disrupting gravity, and all humanity has to play with is one antique space shuttle, the last few nukes and some piss-or astronauts. It's a very unglamorous future. 

Meanwhile, at Coal Hill School, the Doctor decides to take young Courtney Woods to the Moon to cheer her up, as you do. Clara is not entirely sure this is wise. The Doctor advises Courtney that there's to be "no hanky-panky", as JN-T once famously declared. Oh, and later on the Doctor gives us a Troughtonesque "When I say run, run." And Courtney became President of the USA and "met this bloke called Blonovitch". Lots of references to old stories, and the reason I mention them is to point out that they are not particularly from missing episodes, contrary to many current online theorists who suppose that this season is full of clues to a forthcoming announcement of missing episodes by Philip Morris later this year. That may or may not happen, but im very sceptical about any clues being inserted into the season's scripts. It just ain't happening, folks.

On a more contemporary note, Capafdi's Doctor is forever being asked "Who made you the boss?". And the bacteria-spiders look good, although in close-up it's a shame they used CGI instead of a model. 

The central moral dilemma- the moon is an egg, and humanity has the moral dilemma of actually killing the innocent baby or risking extinction, is not one I can identify with, though. What parallel with any real world dilemma is there here, exactly? And arguably Clara is wrong: surely the extinction of billions of humans and an entire planet justifies the unfortunate sacrifice of one life. 

I don't blame Clara for lashing out at the Doctor and storming out of the TARDIS. She confides in Danny Pink, with his warning from last episode about the Doctor being a dangerously charismatic officer coming home to roost much sooner than expected. But, as Danny points out, she's angry now. How will she feel when she calms down? I don't think this is the end of her arc. This feels like unfinished business. And the scene also hints at unexplained depths to Danny Pink- again.

Jenna Coleman, incidentally, is amazing here.

This is probably my least favourite episode of the season so far, then- derivative, and based on a moral dilemma too far removed from anything that could possibly happen to possibly bear the dramatic weight that's been placed upon it. That's a problem.