Pistol- Track 6: Who Killed Bambi?"

 "We'll always have Huddersfield..."

It's perfect, after all the distressing events of the episode, to finish with the Pistols' benefit gig, on Christmas Day 1977, for the children of desperate striking firefighters. Despite all else that happens, it's a moment of strange innocence, with even Sid being kind to children and John showing his moral side, much like his refusal to have anything to do with that *** Ronnie Biggs.

All else is tragedy. Sid and Nancy, two damaged and co-dependent kids who were just kids, really, meet their horribly tragic demises. Malcolm shows himself to be an inhuman ***, both ij the opening scene and in how his cynical manipularion leads to such tragedy. Punk has no need for svengalis: it's about how ANYONE, with just three chords, can write good songs, rule the world and mean something far more significant than all that Situationist fatuosity.

It's right, and meaningful, that Sid's death should be counterbalanced by Chrissie's deserved success. It's also nice to have that well-written final conversation between Steve- the protagonist here- and John, about the cynicism of Malcolm and how John need not bear that burden of all that stupid Catholic guilt about Sid.

Malcolm is the true villain here.Should Hell somehow exist, let him rot in it. Sid and Nancy (Rockets Redglare killed her) were such children. They're all so bloody young. Heroin and cutting yourself is not rock 'n' roll.

The Pistols gave us such incredible music, musi that I love. But at what price? And how many died for it? Is art worth the suffering?

That is, I suppose, the perennial question. We are, I hope, well past the age of glamourising death and mental illness in the name of rock 'n' roll. But we can't deny its worth as art. Still, is it worth it?

Danny Boyle, you have created a serious work of art from a subject matter that needed it. Thank you.

Pistol- Track 5: Nancy and Sid

 "This isn't love. This is appetite. They'll eat him."

And suddenly it all steps upma gear, intothe oenultimate act of what is ultimately a tragedy. Both Sid and Nancy- who we meet for the first time, played truly superbly by Emma Appleton- are, in a way, naive, innocent and so, so young. We get hints of how Nancy has never known love or kindness, of her schizophrenia. We learn that Sid was given some heroin as a birthday present by his mother at fourteen. Wow. Neither of them stand any chance whatsoever. They're co-dependent, self-destructive and doomed to die stupidly young. None of this is ***ing romantic, and rightly isn't played as such. 

Meanwhile, the drama of the Sex Pistols continues, with all Danny Boyle's usual touches of '70s context. The '77 Jubilee seems much scarier than the one last gone, far more conformist. Richard Branson looks so bloody young. And at the centre of it all is everyman Steve, whose stepdad is still a child molesting ***, and who has come from nothing to writing a Number One single.

Then there's Chrissie- a nice person, a grown-up, who bonds with Nancy despite herself. Who realises she needs to develop her talent. Yet Steve has faith in her. The understated love between the two of them is, perhaps, more real than that of Nancy and Sid, the poor kids. And the media are total ***s throughout, as they were in real life.

This is more than good. It's tastefully provocative, and threads the needle very well. It tells the truth; that these were two young victims who fell through the cracks of a society without an adequate safety net. God help their equivalents today.

Pistol- Track 4: Pretty Vaaay****

 "What a ***ing rotter!"

This is, I suppose, the pivotal episode. It has all the seminal early TV appearances, starting with Tont Wilson and incorporating a full recording of the Bill Grundy car crash- and, in the shockingly violent reactions of violent thugs towards John and others just for swearing, we see hoew in many ways- if not in terms of the Welfare State- society has, thankfully, improved since the '70s.

It's wonderful to see things through the eyes of two excited Huddersfield teenage girls, who make their way to London to see the Pistols but end up exploited- much, it becomes increasingly clear, as are the band, by Malcolm, who creams away the profits and gets cold feet after the Grundy interview. The scene where he and Vivienne row- she, at this point, long before the damehood, is a true revolutionary artist who has not sold out, whereas the closest Malcolm comes to actual revolution is poking at an asbestos-ridden roof, despite being warned not to, that would kill him thirty-four years later. Yes, really.

On the other hand, it's Vivienne (ably abetted by a rather awesome Jordan) who exploits "the Huddersfields", so...

We also see the close friendship between John and Sid, the increasingly comfortable relationship (of casual sex and serious guitar tuition) betweewn Steve and Chrissie, and the increasing alienation of Glen, pushed out of the band, essentially because of Steve's class-related inferiority complex.

Things are speeding up. This is bloody brilliant. I'm loving it.

Pistol- Track 3: Bodies

 "We're not into music. We're into chaos."

We should perhaps remember, three episodes in, that this is based on Steve Jones' autobiography, that it is, inevitably, focused on Steve, with him as the star. John Lydon doesn't like it, quite famously. And, while we may not like him these days because of his apparent support for Trumpian fascism, we should remember that he's always been fond of saying shocking stuff for the sake of it, what he says isn't necessarily what he means, and he may not be mentally all that well at the moment. His wife is very ill and he cares for her. So let's not make assumptions.

Anson Boon, incidentally, is superb as John. He brings out the mannerisms and the menace, yes. But threre's also the kind and, well, gentlemanly approach to Pauline. Just as revealing, too, is the saga of Chrissie Hynde's desperate attempts to get married purely for a visa. She's more upset than she thinks, for a "fake marriage"; when Steve spurns her, she likes him more than she admits. Yet John cheerily agrees to marry her for a laugh, only to back out when an upset Nick Kent arrives, because feelings are not a joke. Beneath everything, he has a heart. He's vulnerable.

And so is Steve himself. He's very sensitive about his illiteracy, and nice deep down, despite yielding to temptation with Pauline. But Pauline- the inspiration behind Bodies, not the anti-abortion song that right-wing morons think it is- is the character we feel most sorry for. Raped, institutionalied, carrying an aborted foetus in a bag to gigs, loving it when Johnny writes a song about her... that's real life.

The politics of punk is, of course, an interesting subject. Malcolm has his trite situationism.Vivienne has her aimless anti-authority, taboo-busting passion, hating bigotry but not in favour of anything. Everyone hates hippies. It's not explicitly right-wing but, well, I think it has its place in the history of Thatcherism. Then again, so do hippies. Their individualism is not necessarily a left-wing thing.

Nevertheless, this a wonderfully textured bit of telly. Reginald Bosanquet in Sex, Maisie Williams as Jordan, the Bromley Contingent in full force.. I absolutely love this.

Pistol- Track 1: Cloak of Invisibility

 "The phantom of the Odeon strikes again!"

Yes, I know. I'm juggling so many shows so why start a new one? Well, at least I've nearly finished Stranger Things, right?

Wow. This is much more textured, interesting telly than I expected from a biopic of merry Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones.

We begin, as is traditional in all Pistols-related telly, with a '70s montage framed arounda live Bowie performance of "Moonage Daydream" and Steve nicking stuff, but including such things as unmentionable pop, Barbara Windsor royalist wankery of a rather less ironic and metatextual natutre than the recent frolics, bad clothes, bad decor.

And we get to know Steve, a Sex Pistol who isn't John or Sid- must get round to blogging Sid and Nancy at some point- but is more interesting than either of them. A likeable rogue, who nicks stuff and shags around but is charming and decent underneat it all. Poor, vulnerable, not from a loving home like Paul Cook, whose parents let him play drums in their bedroom  but chucked out of his home by a sexually abusive stepfather.

Yet he finds a surrogate dad in Malcolm McLaren (played, disturbinhly.by Thomas Brodie-Sangster, who I remember well as a child actor in Doctor Who), and already we understand their bond. We also get to know and like Chrissie Hynde, to laugh at Nick Kent, to wallow in a very real-seeming '70s, an era when culture was real and contemporary, and previous decades were not available at a click of the mouse, and borstals were bloody scary..

This is unexpectedly good telly. And Johnny Rotten is still to come...

Doctor Who: Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead

Silence in the Library



“I try to keep you away from major plot developments…”

This one’s by Steven Moffat, so let there be no attempt at suspense here. This is heading for a 5/5. You knew that. What surprised me, though, was that it’s better than that. I came back to this expecting it to be merely superb, the sort of casual excellence exuded even by the Moff’s lesser scripts. But it’s much deeper than I remembered, and it goes straight into the top ten.

Even the pre-titles sequence is a little work of art on its own. The scenes with the little girl add so much, not just mystery but a nice bit of Sapphire and Steel style philosophical musing on the nature of reality.

Then it’s off to Moffat’s beloved 51st century, and some nice fourth wall-damaging banter between the Doctor and Donna. This isn’t really an “arc” episode (well, not as far as this season’s concerned) but they’re both continuing to enjoy both the travelling and each other’s company and really getting on; I love their simultaneous tearing up of Lux’s proffered contracts! Clearly, nothing bad’s going to happen.

The sudden reveal that this apparently deserted world is hiding great danger, and that the danger lies in the shadows, is inspired, and the way it’s built up is masterly. And very scary. Also, very funny in the way it builds up (“It doesn’t do wood?!!!”). The Doctor’s exposition bit about the Vashta Nerada even manages to be scary in itself; you should be afraid of the dark because there really are monsters out to get you. Great stuff. I’m sure the young kids loved it!

And yes, River Song. I try to watch in the spirit of the Marathon without any extra-curricular viewing, but new episodes are impossible to resist. And it’s particularly interesting to see River’s “first” appearance. We get our first “Hello sweetie”. We get a squareness gun, of course. And it’s interesting seeing the Doctor working out just who the hell she is. Then again, only Steven Moffat knows that.

The rest of the “others” are cleverly given the illusion of depth through a few nice lines (love the “Proper Dave” and “Other Dave” stuff). Steve Pemberton is a surprising yet good choice for Lux, apparently an arrogant corporate sod at this stage. The later reveal of his true motives is nicely foreshadowed by River, nicely undercutting the Doctor’s typically declamatory “I don’t want everyone in this room to die because some idiot thinks his pride is more important,” with a simple “Then why didn’t you sign his contract?” But she then undercuts that by admitting she’s as bad as he is. I love her already. The new Romana?

Probably the centrepiece of the episode is Miss Evangelista’s death and “ghosting”. This is so brilliant I’ll even forgive the fact that the threat from the Vashta Nerada seems to be on pause for the duration. And then things get even better with Doctor Moon’s private chat to the little girl, telling her that “The real world is a lie, and your nightmares are real!” This story delivers on scares, wit, and conceptual brilliance. And there’s another episode to go.




Forest of the Dead



“And then you remembered…”

Well, resolution by squareness gun is a bit disappointing, but since everything else about this episode is great I’m not quibbling too much. Especially as we get some great fourth wall-injuring stuff here with Donna noticing that her Family of Blood-style “life”, wherever she is, seems to follow the conventions of television camerawork, cutting straight from one scene to another. I really am a total sucker for this kind of thing, but it’s particularly well done here. It also shows us that this is going to be a very different episode from its predecessor.

All of the “others” are killed off, one by one here; everybody lives, but first, everybody dies. This is very well handled, both maintaining the sense of threat and giving us a bit of pathos. I liked Anita too.

The gradual reveals are great: the “doctor moon”, the spores of the Vashta Nerada arriving with the books by accident (again, no real sense of evil or even agency for the threat in a Moffat script), CAL, Lux not in fact being an arse at all. (One problem, though; if it’s the 51st century, and Charlotte Lux lived only a couple of generations ago, why does her “world” seem to be the early twenty-first century?) And of course the revelation that everyone who died was “saved”. Of course, they all did in fact die; they just got copied. But I suppose that applies to all teleportation as much as this one. In The Seeds of Death, everybody dies, including the regulars. Several times.

Donna suffers real heartbreak here, and it’s a shame there are no real long-term consequences; Moffat scripts are never quite plugged in to the series arcs. Yet. She loses what are, emotionally, a real husband and two real children. The moment where the children recognise that they only exist when Donna can see them is fantastically awful.

Of course, River dies. Sort of. And knows the Doctor’s name. And they squabble like an “old married couple”. Hmm.


As I said, superlative. 5/5 and top ten.