Edge of Darkness: Part 6- Fusion

"You can't die alone, Ronnie..."

"Why not? We all do, you know."

The final episode, at last. As with previous episodes, it very much feels as though a single viewing is not enough to glean what lurks within these fifty crafted minutes. Most interestingly, though, is that this final episode barely goes through the motions of being a thriller, again introducing a variation f James Lovelock's Gaia theory- will we, as Grogan (coded as a villain) transcend our Earth and move to colonise the Solar System (perhaps less likely now than it may have seemed in 1985), or will our continued pillaging of our planet see our Earth mother strangle us in our cradle with the black flowers we see in the final shot? The answer is as uncertain as Craven's fate, but he is ultimately doomed. Are we? Emma's ghost seems to imply that humanity had a sapient predecessor, swallowed by thsoe black flowers.

We get to explore the personal complexities of Jedburgh here, but again we are not spoon fed. He's a man with a death drive, yes, but he is at once sensitive and intelligent while cynical and worldly wise. Is he an environmental idealist, deep down? It's left, I think, deliberately ambiguous. Just like the future, and just like the historical currents in this chaotic world of ours, where the twin false gods of Marxism and market fundamentalism have in turn tried to impose a determinism and teleology which does not exist.

It's a downbeat ending, one that refuses to be neat and makes clear, to Harcourt's shock, that the activities at Northmoor were always sanctioned by the powers that be. Nuclear power exists. We live in a plutonium world. How long we can last is up to us. This isn't as easy, pleasant or enjoyable to watch as previous episodes, but art doesn't have to be any of those things. Sublime.

Edge of Darkness: Part 4- Breakthrough

“Well, bodies kept turning up in the bunkers, and you needed air support to play out of the rough. Kinda puts you off your game."

My, this is getting very deep indeed in terms of plot, psychology and subtext. Nothing I say here will do much more than scratch the surface, but suffice to say that this is masterfully crafted stuff.

Craven is back at home, and almost killed by McCroon, the suspect, for banal reasons of revenge. Yet there's more to this, and not just in one way. Yes, there's the fact that someone gave McCroon the information and resources he needed, but there's also the dirty tricks that took place in Northern Ireland, and Craven's own hands are very much dipped in the blood; he personally recruited informers who were subsequently dropped and allowed to be offed by the Provos. This is, to say the least, no less dishonourable than the other political games going on.

There's the genuine question over Craven's mental state, as much is driven by the presence of Emma's ghost inside his head. Then there's the mercurial Jedburgh, whose entire outward personality is a performance. Who is he, underneath? He's not just eccentric- he seems extraordinarily sanguine about the apparent recent death in El Salvador (the series oozes with '80s current affairs), and his loyalties may not just be to his CIA employers. Are we convinced by the explanation he gives Craven for co-founding GAIA?

Eventually, in a very exciting sequence, Craven gets to hack a very 1980s IT network and get a little more information- not least a map of Northmoor. He also gets Godbold to spread the beans- and, while hopelessly in hock to the nuclear industry, he was in fact Emma's man on the inside- and lets slip that the killers almost certainly suspected Craven of fulfilling that role. This is already a complex web, and a compelling one. Plus, it seems, Craven and Jedburgh are going to retrace Emma's terrorist steps.

Excellent stuff. I raised an eyebrow, however, when Craven was told that you "don't say no" to a Commons select committee or "they lock you up". Someone should tell that to Dominic Cummings.

Edge of Darkness: Part 3- Burden of Proof

"I don't believe in the conspiracy theory of history."

This episode may perhaps be, again, less obviously artistic than the first and even more so than the second and, by now, deeply engrossed and, indeed, engrossing in the unravelling of the complex yet clearly narrated plot, but that is achieved without sacrificing either characterisation or verbal wit. This is still extraordinary, even sublime television, three episodes in.

Bob Peck is again, well, deservedly BAFTA-winning in how he portrays deep emotion and bereavement in a restrained man. Craven may be seen, by the end, by his boss as in need of help over his seeming obsession with deeper conspiracies behind Emma's death, but he is simultaneously seen by Harcourt and Pendleton, those nebulous spooks, as a credible witness for their plans to somehow nobble Bob Bennett, whom they suspect of killing Emma. Craven refuses them, of course, being the decent father that he is, but this goes to illusrate that things are not as they seem. The Texan act of the ever-thinking Jedburgh is, as H and P point out, an act. He's a fascinating, deep and nuanced character, hiding beneath both a stereotype and a supposed political standpoint, yet according to Clemmie he co-founded GAIA, an environmental organisation he now loudly derides as terrorists? With him, there are layers to unpeel.

It's odd, and disturbing, to learn of Craven's intimate, touchy-feely interrogation techniques with Lowe, but then it's established that he's a sex offender. Godbolt again pops up, looking anxious to deny things And Terry, Emma's erstwhile boyfriend, is murdered in the bath after giving Craven a clue. The plot thickens, as always. And there are far too many nuances to recount the plot. Suffice to say, I'm gripped.

If this all reads as the work of a drunk person, well, I'm forty-three today, and I've just finished a bottle of rather good Chilean Cabernet. Burp. Stay at home. Beat coronavirus with good wine. That is all.

Babs

"Queer as a nine bob note!"

I've always been fond of old British comedy, from Carry On to Round the Horne to Beyond the Fringe to Monty Python, and a biopic of Barbara Windsor of exactly the kind that used to be on BBC4 is very much my thing, especially with Tony Jordan writing, and this doesn't disappoint. Anyway, I've always liked Babs, dodgy opinions about the Kray twins (who were scum) notwithstanding.

It's a cleverly written teleplay, which feels at times almost to be written for theatre in its use of space as figures from the past (mainly her Dad) visit Barbara in an empty auditorium. But we start in 1993, with Babs at a low, pre-EastEnders ebb in her career, and the whole thing is a structured examination of Babs' life, loves and daddy issues. Samantha Spiro and Jaime Winstone are both superb, and we even get a few appearances from the lady herself. Plus we get Harry from The Black Adder as a divorce judge, so all's good.

The personal stuff is beautifully written, and both parents come across as very human. The script does a nice little balancing act in not shying away from Mr Deeks' habit of sodding off when things get tough or from the fact that there was at least a degree of spousal abuse. It's not hard to see her serial relationships as a search for the father figure of her early childhood.

But I particularly loved the parts with Zoe Wanamaker as the eccentric genius Joan Littlewood, whom I respect hugely, as Babs gets to grips with her eccentric ways of working. The Kenneth Williams scene with the ever-wonderful Robin Sebastian is also a joy. As, indeed, is the whole thing. Not to be missed.

Doctor Who: New Earth

“New, new Doctor!”

It looks as though we start with a continuity error- there’s no snow and everyone has changed clothes. Then again, they could just have waited a day or two. It was Christmas Day, after all.

The TARDIS lands in the year 5,000,0000,023, on the planet New Earth in the M87 Galaxy. Yes, that’s right- an alien planet! An alien planet crammed with reference points to Earth, but another world nonetheless. But the Doctor and Rose have been spotted- by one of those spider things from The End of the World…

The TARDISeers haven’t arrived here by accident, though. There’s a message for the Doctor, and it’s from yon nearby hospital. Said hospital has no shops, disappointingly, but on the other hand it has lots of cat nurses, who remind me very much of the Cheetah People from Survival.

Our heroes are separated whilst travelling downwards, and while the Doctor encounters the petrified Duke of Manhattan and his rather uptight underling Frau Clovis, Rose comes face to face with Cassandra, now reduced to skulking underground with her genetically engineered slave Chip and some footage of herself back when she looked like Zoe Wanamaker. Not for long, though, as she quickly and rather rudely steals Rose’s body.

The Doctor, meanwhile, encounters another mysterious face from the past: the Face of Boe. The Face may be dying but there’s still no reason why he can’t be annoyingly enigmatic. Apparently before he dies he’s going to impart one last secret to “the lonely god”. Gosh, I wonder who that could be.

All is not well in the hospital, it seems; the cat nurses seem to have concealed hordes of lab rats-cum-lepers in a secret underground chamber, and they’re effecting their miracle cures by simply transferring their patients’ diseases into these human cattle. This almost, but not quite, seems to have something to say on medical ethics and animal experimentation and that. You get the impression that RTD feels he ought to vaguely allude to this sort of theme but at the end of the day it’s just not a particular political hobby horse of his.

We get a number of Tennant firsts around this point. The first kiss between him and Rose, sort of; the first “I’m so sorry” of which more below; and the first example of his occasional cosmic arrogance with his “If you want to take it to a higher authority, there isn’t one.” You can almost smell the foreboding.

It all kicks off as the Doctor realises something’s up with Rose, forcing Cassandra to accelerate her plans. The leper people are soon released, and pandemonium ensues. I’m reminded of Terminus. And also minded to give a rather similar score to the one I gave for that story, unfortunately.

Cassandra’s sudden, shocked, change of heart after seeing inside the leper's head actually works quite well, but unfortunately the conclusion of the Doctor just randomly mixing lots of medicines together is, well, awful. I’m not generally in the habit of uttering the phrases “deus ex machine” and “Russell T. Davies” in the same sentence, but for this story I’m almost tempted.

The Face of Boe is suddenly cured, too, and he’s going to carry on being enigmatic for a while longer- works as a sort of teaser, I suppose. Cassandra’s story ends satisfyingly, too, in the arms of her past self. But for the first time in the “New Series” there’s something lacking here. After awarding every episode of last season a 5/5 I feel almost cruel doing this, but New Earth only gets a 3/5.

Oh, and here’s the start of a new feature…




The David Tennant I’m-So-Sorry-ometer

The Christmas Invasion: 0
New Earth: 1 (“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”)

Doctor Who: The End of the World

“Moisturise me! Moisturise me!”

We begin with a bit of a reprise from the events of the previous story, something I’d entirely forgotten. And then we get the pre-credit sequence proper, our first as a standard part of the format, as the Doctor shows off shamelessly to Rose about the TARDIS and all the times and places they can visit. It’s a great scene, though, especially as the way the TARDIS is now operated is so charmingly steampunk, and so much more visually interesting than it has been before what with all those buttons and levers and the sense of movement. Rose chooses to visit the future, so for the first time the TARDIS is seen travelling through the red vortex.

The TARDIS lands on a space station on the day the Sun is scheduled to expand and destroy the Earth. Naturally, this is a tourist event, and has not been left to nature. The planet now belongs to the National Trust and even the continents have been restored to the “classic” arrangement.

The Doctor dodges the once traditional “Oi! Who the Hell are you?” tiresomeness by flashing some psychic paper for the first time ever. Imagine how short Frontier in Space would have been if he’d carried it back then. Still, it’s particularly convenient for our new format of mainly self-contained 45 minute episodes. That and the pacing.

We get to see loads of aliens, such as the Moxx of Balhoon, the Face of Boe, and Jabe, a tree who the Doctor immediately starts flirting with. And of course there’s also the rather striking looking last human, Cassandra, with her ostrich eggs and her iPods.

It’s rather clever how Rose suddenly panics; it’s all suddenly too much, and she feels she’s got to get away, she’s got to run away to the sound of Tainted Love. This, and the scenes that follow, is exactly the sort of examination of the core ideas of the show which have never really been addressed before except by viewers at home, and pretty much gives us in microcosm exactly what’s so great about RTD’s rebirth of the show.

Rather neatly, Rose is immediately brought back to a manageable reality by a simple chat with a plumber from Crespallion (so that’s where Max Marble got the name from!), where she suddenly realises that the Doctor’s a complete stranger and she has no idea who he is, and wonders what she’s done by agreeing to go with him. This is brilliant, completely deconstructing the Doctor / companion relationship in a way which makes it stronger. And even more brilliant is her subsequent conversation with the Doctor. First she’s angry at him for letting the TARDIS get into her head as it translates for her, then he’s angry at her for asking questions about a past he doesn’t want to talk about. Then, after a brief mutual sulk, they make up, and the Doctor does some jiggery-pokery to Rose’s phone so she can call her mum, five billion years ago. As a scene it’s simply perfect.

It’s also a bit shocking how dated Rose’s phone already looks. And suddenly it’s evident just how much of the dialogue between Rose and Jackie centres on the compensation culture.

Back to what’s happening on the space station, though, the most obvious thing is how refreshingly thought through the design it. The days of dull white corridors are over; at last we have a future with an aesthetic that was actually designed for living in. But, of course, there are also some aliens in it. Hang on, what was the Moxx of Balhoon just saying about the “Bad Wolf scenario”? Never mind.

Rose’s chat with Cassandra quickly establishes just how shallow, racist, narcissistic and plain nasty she is. The Doctor’s chat with Yasmin Bannerman’s rather lovely Jade is much more pleasant, and it’s great how she’s apparently descended from Earth’s rainforests. Jade has discovered the Doctor’s species: he’s a Time Lord. And it’s obvious that some terrible tragedy has befallen them. But it’s a pleasant scene in spite of this as Jade touches his arm in sympathy. Oh, and by the way, there are nasty spider things on the loose and the shields are down, putting the whole space station in peril. Forgot to mention it earlier.

The Doctor now gathers everybody together to exercise ze little grey cells. Dismissing the Adherents of the Repeated Meme as the obligatory red herring (and perfectly named for their function!), he fingers Cassandra as the culprit, but away she promptly teleports, leaving the Doctor to save the space station with help from Jabe, who bravely gives her life. The Doctor’s rather put out by this, so he effectively teleports Cassandra back to the space station and promptly puts her to death. And for all the talk about how “everything has its span and everything dies,” that’s what this is: an execution. It’s just about acceptable here in the context of Cassandra’s unnatural lifespan, but I wouldn’t like to see a lot more of this sort of thing.

The Doctor and Rose return to the normality of 2005, and the Doctor finally confides to Rose that his own planet also “burned”, in a lost war. He’s now the last of the Time Lords. Blimey!



Once again, brilliant. With time to breathe, this time RTD has a good examination of the tropes which make the series tick. 5/5.