Hawkeye: Never Meet Your Heroes

 "I need a bow and arrow!"

This is all very new to me. I know Hawkeye, obviously, but Kate Bishop is from well after my comics-reading years. I know Jack must be the Swordsman, which is exciting, but I've never heard of Hawkeye as the Ronin, which I think of as a massive great big robot kaijin that went up against the Avengers.

We get a big revelation about Clint's unexpected past, we see him with his kids, and we get an actual mentioj of his hearing aid- although, trust me as one who knows: if you switch your hearing off you bloody well take it out and let your ear breathe a bit. Hearing aids help you hear more like other people do so you can fit in, but they're bloody uncomfortable to wear for hours on end.

I like Kate. The odds are stacked against her as a spoiled little rich girl, but I like her, a credit to both Halle Steinfeld and the writing. She's cool, resourceful and has just the right amount of sadness in her past. Plus she worships superheroes, especially the esteemed Mr Barton.

This is mostly set-up, but there's much to intrigue. The Swordsman. Simon Callow, as the late Armand, playing American. What the hell is going on with all this Ronin stuff. This isn't quite up there, so far, with WandaVision and Loki, but I'm enjoying it.

Inspector Morse: The Wolvercote Tongue

 “Never, ever interrupt me when I'm booking my seat for the opera, Lewis."

Yet again I should start by saying that I've read all of Colin Dexter's novels, albeit some time ago. This includes The Jewel That Was Ours which, in a reversal of the usual pattern, was actually written for the telly first and only later novelised.

I remember only moments from the novel, which has not stayed with me much. I didn't remember the outcome, but don't recall being, as I was here, mildly disappointed with the resolution. I suppose there's a certain red herring cleverness in the Wolvercote Tongue having nothing to do with the killings, but there's something unsatisfying in there being two unrelated events in Laura's death and the theft of the jewel versus Theodore Kemp's shagging and its consequences- although Simon Callow is superb, as always. He's one of those actors who chews the scenery with aplomb, and most certainly in a good way.

I'm also enjoying the further fleshing out of Mose and Lewis, whose relationship is by now fully-formed with obligatory scenes of Lewis being whisked away from the pub when he's hardly started his pint. I'm also very much enjoying the sparring between Morse and Max, as much as the writers clearly are. Peter Woodthorpe's performance has made quite the impression.

We have here a mildly disappointing episode which nonetheless confirms the series is going in pretty much the right direction. John Thaw is superlative, better than any previous episode, with signs that scripts are being written with a known performance in mind. I look forward to the second series proper.

The Dead Room

"When were you born?”

“1990.”

“Christ!”

This is an admittedly cheap but well cast attempt in BBC Four where Mark Gatiss (naturally!) writes and directs a deliberately modern slant on M.R. James style ghost stories for Christmas. It’s a very good piece of drama with excellent dialogue, a superbly characterised central character, and yet... it isn’t eerie or scary. And it’s not immediately obvious why.

Simon Callow is, inevitably, spellbinding in the central role of Aubrey Judd, veteran radio teller of horror stories, while Anjli Mohindra alsonimpresses as his obscenely young producer in what is essentially a two hander on two similar sets and could easily have been a stage play. This isn’t the 1970s M.R. James adaptation so no sumptuous location filming please; we’re BBC Four.

The script is in many ways superb and literally gothic in that a sun from Aubrey’s past literally comes back to haunt him. Yet, in the wake of A Very English Scandal, there are many poignant reminders of the real dangers of being gay in the 1970s, something which works well. I also admire the light breakage of the fourth wall as Aubrey eloquently deconstructs the modern ghost story; it can’t be too modern, requires a certain distance, more or less within living memory, and a certain old-fashioned reticence in holding back the nature of the horror. You can, he claims, base a horror tale on a horror from as recently as the ‘70s!

And yet, good though this is as a little piece of drama, it doesn’t quite work. I’m not sure the script is to blame, or indeed Gatiss’ direction; I suspect it’s the case that limited resources are the culprit here, and the play just isn’t scary. And that’s a shame.

Street Fighter (1994)

"I hoped to meet Guile face-to-face on the battlefield, where we could engage each other in unarmed combat. Then I would snap his spine. But why? Why do they still call me a warlord? And mad? All I want to do is to create the perfect genetic soldier. Not for power, not for evil, but for good. Carlos Blanka shall be the first of many who shall march out of my laboratory and crush every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the world is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And peace will reign and all humanity shall bow to me in humble gratitude."

Once upon a time there was a game called Street Fighter. It was rubbish, and sank without trace. But then it begat a sequel called Street Fighter 2, which became very popular. And this in turn begat a rather rubbish film, which is about to receive something of a critical spanking. Thing is, though, the film couldn't be called Street Fighter 2, after the game, as it would look as though it was a sequel to a non-existent film. Instead, it had to be named after the original, rather rubbish game. Awkward, eh?

I used to play the arcade version of Street Fighter 2 quite a lot as a teenager, in Upper Castle Street in Hinckley town centre circa 1992. I was rubbish. I always played Dhalsim, as the character requiring the least skill to play, and got whupped on a regular basis. So this film has a bit of a nostalgic pull for me, especially as all the characters from the game appear in the film. Initial impressions were that the film seemed likely to be rubbish, but then I was reassured by the presence of noted thespian Jean-Claude Van Damme, a performer of subtlety and grace, so cruelly overlooked by the Academy for so many years.

And yet, in spite of the peerless performance of this all-time great of the acting profession, the film is, not to put too fine a point on it, a pile of steaming cack. And, as such, I recommend it hugely. Don't make the mistake I made, though: this is not a film to watch sober, or alone. Alcohol is essential.

The glorious awfulness of this film just can't be exaggerated. It's a melodrama in the purest sense, with Raul Julia putting in a superb scenery-chewing performance as the wonderfully villainous M. Bison. Basically, he's Dr. Evil, and possibly the most fun character to play in all of cinema history. Most of the rest of the cast are quite obscure actors, although it's fun to spot all the characters from the game as they appear. No less a figure than Simon Callow appears as an officious type, causing a hilariously over-the-top from Van Damme as Colonel William F. Guile, a US marine with a suspiciously Belgian accent. Kylie Minogue is…. good to look at.

The plot is pure hokum involving a ransom demand and much twirling of moustaches, pointless violence and all the things you'd expect, but it's nice to see so many gladiatorial style one-on-one combats, reflecting the game, and all of the characters get a little glory except Dhalsim, my favourite, who doesn't even seem to have his cool Mr. Fantastic-style powers.

The most eye-goggling thing about the whole film is the series of bad jokes recited over the closing credits, and the post-credits scene basically reveals that M. Bison has Windows '95. But the thing as a whole is a very silly and hugely entertaining pile of crap. Much recommended.

Doctor Who: The Wedding of River Song

“You and me- we should get a drink sometime.”

“OK.”

“And married.”

“Fine.”

Oh blimey, here it comes at last. It ratchets up the tension to get such an arc-heavy “Previously on Doctor Who” sequence; it’s always interesting to see which particular clips they choose to go with. Why so much emphasis on the Teselecta, hmm?

The opening is weird, and great. Steam trains choo choo their way into the Gherkin, Roman charioteers wait at traffic lights, a picnic is ruined by pterodactyls and Charles Dickens is giving an interview to BBC Breakfast News. There’s so much stuff crammed in here that will take more viewings to get.

This world is presided over by “Holy Roman Emperor” Winston Churchill, whose war mammoth, thankfully for the budget, is kept off-screen. It’s a bit weird to see the return of that Silurian eugenicist, though; can’t we have some Victorian Sapphic sleuthing, instead?

The Doctor’s entrance into the narrative is both dramatic and bearded, as expected, and it turns out that time has gone all wrong, the universe is in a spot of bother, and this is all a framing narrative anyway. This is all out of left field, and really rather fun.

So, off we go into the main narrative it self. There’s almost as much spectacle here as the Doctor searches for information on why the Silence want him dead. There’s a nice cameo from Mark Gatiss as Gantok, a bizarre Viking dwarf, and some terrific stuff with some scary-looking skulls that eat rats. Brr. But basically, Dorium’s back, decapitated but still alive. Yay!

Dorium’s a great, witty, charismatic character and thus perfect for giving out loads of exposition. That he certainly does here, and there’s one line worth quoting as I’m sure it’s going to mean an awful lot next year- and perhaps up to the 50^th anniversary, given what we learn at the end of this episode: On the fields of Trenzalore, at the fall of the eleventh, when no living creature could speak falsely or fail to answer, a question will be asked. A question that must never be answered.”

What’s this about, then? Is “the fall of the eleventh” a reference to the next regeneration or just a red herring? Just how far ahead is Moffat planning?

Anyway, the whole point of “Silence will fall” is that the Doctor must be killed before he can answer the question, or Bad Things Will Happen. The Doctor is in denial at first but, in a nice little touch, he changes his mind as he learns that Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart has dies. This is a nice little tribute to Nicholas Courtney. That and, as my mate Nick remarked in the pub last night, the fact that they’re all wearing eyepatches. I didn’t see an on-screen caption, though?

It’s interesting to see the events at Lake Silencio again, this time from the Doctor’s perspective, and we’re made privy to the conversation between River and himself. There are two very odd things here, though. Firstly, River is being controlled by the spacesuit and isn’t responsible for what happens. She’s the weapon, not the murderer, so why the Hell does this innocent woman happily end up in prison, “serving time for a murder you probably can’t remember”? And that goes double after what we learn at the end. Secondly, why does River need to be in the spacesuit at all if she doesn’t do anything?

Except, River doesn’t shoot. The Doctor lives, time goes tits up, and we’re back where we started. The framing narrative is now the main narrative, time is dying, the Doctor and Churchill have weapons on them for reasons they can’t remember, and there are tally marks on the Doctor’s arm. Oh dear.

I love the moment where we see loads of Silence on the ceiling- it certainly scared the pants off me. And as for special agent “Pond, Amelia Pond”- what an entrance! Is it me or does Karen Gillan look particularly ravishing in an eyepatch? I love the way the character gets treated here- she’s so cool and so heroic, with an office on a train and everything. And her relationship with alt-Rory is cool, too.

Things now proceed to get cooler as the steam train choo choos into the Great Pyramid, which has “Area 52” written on the side. This is Amy’s headquarters, which she runs alongside River. They’re all wearing eyepatches because this allows them to remember seeing the Silence for as long as they wear them. This is rather important, as they are holding prisoner a number of Silents, plus Madame Kovarian.

I love the Doctor’s attempts at matchmaking between alt-Amy and alt-Rory. “Texting and scones”… I’ve certainly never heard it called that before.

The main romance of this episode is, of course, between River and the Doctor. Everything that happens is about love: River is prepared to allow the universe to die because of her love for the Doctor. As for the Doctor, he’s not pleased about this, but he does drop a subtle hint about his feelings for River. Reader, he marries her. As River says, at least he gets to die knowing that he’s loved. They kiss, and the Earth moves.

We cut to Amy, in her garden, sharing a glass of wine with her daughter. For River, the wreck of the Byzantium has just happened. This is, of course, in her personal future. But things are still raw for Amy. She deliberately allowed Kovarian to die (although this was, as River says, in another reality, so this reality’s Kovarian is presumably still out there) and feels guilty about it. River doesn’t think it’s that bad a crime but, given the circumstances, that’s not too surprising.

River drops a few important revelations. She was only pretending not to recognise that spacesuit in Florida; the Doctor didn’t actually whisper his name to River but something else, and… the Doctor isn’t dead! It was a Teselecta after all, with the real Doctor inside. Predictable enough, I suppose, but it’s been so enjoyable getting up to this moment that I don’t really mind.

The Doctor isn’t going back for Amy and Rory; he still believes what he believed at the end of The God Complex and he prefers to “step into the shadows”. It seems a bit unfair for River to be in prison, but it seems she’s spending all of her nights with her husband, er, texting and scones.

Dorium has the last word, though, revealing the “first question”, the one which must not be answered under any circumstances, for fear of dire consequences.

“Doctor who?”

The Sarah Jane Adventures: The Gift

Part One

“I was about to thank you. A break from the dog is most appreciated.”

“Bit annoying, is he?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment…”

I love the way we start this episode at what would be the end of a normal story, with our heroes on the verge of foiling a Slitheen plot, only for our expectations to be thwarted by the arrival of the Blathereen. Sadly, it’s one of very few cool things about this unfortunate episode. It’s a nice plot, but The Claws of Axos did it better.

There are a lot of old foes in SJA, aren’t there? It’s not long since the Trickster was back, and now it’s the Slitheen again. At least this is a new twist on them from new writer Rupert Laight (who he?). And there’s a nice early bit of education for the kids as we’re old how diamond is just compressed carbon and that. But this is very slow and talky- surely the kids must have been bored. I know I was. At least we get a nice bit of fanwank, though. Apparently Raxacoricofallapatorius, Clom, Clix and Raxacoricovarconpatorius (gotta love subtitles) are part of something called the Raxas Alliance. Well I never.

Things get worse, though. Clyde using K-9 to cheat in a school test is both silly and out of character. And how did he manage to lip a massive robot dog into the classroom, anyway?



Part Two

“How dare you! We’re nothing like the Slitheen. We’re much, much worse!”

Come to think of it, it looks as though this entire clumsy and out-of-character plot strand of Clyde using K-9 to cheat in a test is there mainly to ensure K-9 is able to save Clyde and Rani from the exploding Rakweed. Sigh.

The conclusion seems to go through the motions. The school bell destroying the Rakweed is too much of a coincidence. In an episode which I otherwise like I could be forgiving (The Seeds of Death uses water in a similar way), but this is one piece of clumsiness too many. And the Blathereen want to use Earth as a farm for growing Rakweed, which seems to be narcotic, in a cack-handed attempt to draw parallels with the hard drugs trade. Sigh again.

It’s an unfortunate ending (1/5) to what was otherwise an excellent series. The only surprise for me was that the whole “Chandra family do The X-Files” angle from Prisoner of the Judoon wasn’t followed up. Perhaps next season?

Phew! First Torchwood, now I’ve got to the end of The Sarah Jane Adventures. If we, er, ignore the entire season which has aired since the Marathon officially ended, that is! Just sixteen episodes of Doctor Who to go for me. Then I just have to catch up on the post-Marathon stuff and I’m up-to-date…

Doctor Who: The Unquiet Dead

“The stiffs are getting lively again.”

It’s going to be Gothic (in the proper sense). It’s going to be Christmassy. It’s therefore going to be Victorian. Why, we even get a bit of gaslight at the start. And a great looking zombie, and an undertaker who’s clearly in on it! But the most striking thing about the pre-credit sequence is that the Doctor and Rose aren’t in it, which instantly makes it feel much like the openings of old.

It’s also our first script of the new era not to be by RTD, as Mark Gatiss makes his debut. We begin pretty much as we’ve left off, though; they’ve done the future, so now they’re doing the past, namely Naples, 1860. Apparently. And, of course, they’re going backwards in time, so the vortex turns blue this time. Once again the TARDIS interior is full of action, motion and hammering as the TARDIS travels- I love that. But not as much as the Doctor’s directions to Rose about the wardrobe!

Victorian Cardiff, and it’s so weird to see Eve Myles as Gwyneth from the vantage point of now. She’s brilliant, of course, as is Simon Callow as Charles Dickens, whose every word of dialogue is something to treasure (“What the Shakespeare is going on?”). It’s Christmas Eve, and Dickens is feeling old and deflated, perhaps a little like Scrooge, of whom he’ll be reciting later tonight.

The pace may be a bit slower than the last two stories, but things still happen pretty quickly. The undertaker kidnaps Rose pretty sharpish while the Doctor instantly hitches a lift in Dickens’ cab to give chase. This is a rather amusing scene, in which the two men bond over the Doctor’s love for The Signalman.

Unfortunately this is counterpointed somewhat by a later scene in which the Doctor is startlingly rude to Dickens for his scepticism concerning the supernatural. This is simply wrong for the show, which has always presented reason as a good thing. Fortunately, this is the only lapse. It’s clear that these apparently supernatural events have shattered Dickens’ worldview, and this is something which is to be developed.

There’s also a good scene between Rose and Gwyneth, showing the clash of values. While Rose sees Gwyneth as downtrodden- and she probably is- Gwyneth doesn’t see herself as such. Sneed doesn’t actually treat her that badly in the context of the time. But the point about this scene is Gwyneth’s mindreading abilities. What’s all this about “The darkness… the big Bad Wolf”? Ah well. It’s probably nothing.

Weirdly, we get a séance (Dickens is, of course, correct about all the things that used to go on), but this is actually great because I love the way that Word just put that acute accent in “séance” just then. Anyway, the creatures that have been inhabiting the cadavers are apparently called the Gelth, and they’ve come through a rift. They’re the last of their kind, and deprived of physical substance, as the result of a Time War, which was “invisible to smaller species, but devastating to higher forms.” Is it me, or does that sound a bit familiar?

We get a bit of a debate between Rose and the Doctor about whether the Gelth should be allowed to inhabit human corpses, although if we put the ethical arguments to one side this would blatantly not be a practical solution. But this is followed by a more interesting conversation between the two of them about how their actions can in fact change the past, and thus the present- an important thing to establish.

The Gelth, unfortunately, were ever slightly dying; there are in fact billions of them, and they plan to kill every human on Earth and inhabit their corpse. Oops. Fortunately, Dickens and Gwyneth save the day with a bit of quick thinking and self-sacrifice respectively. But, of course, we can’t end on the downer of Gwyneth’s death, and so Dickens gets a nice coda.



After the brilliance of late, this is merely great in the traditional sense rather than breaking any new ground. It still scrapes a 5/5 though.