Torchwood: A Tale of Two Shows

I never thought I'd write about this show. I never thought I'd watch this show; I only became a Doctor Who fan a few months ago, after actively avoiding it for years. When this show premiered in 2006, its description sounded somewhat like something I'd like (at the time, I still really liked Stargate: SG-1, whereas my feelings toward it now are... complicated), but knowing it was a Doctor Who spin-off ultimately kept me away. I also forget whether I was aware of its critical reputation before recently. I'm sure I heard something about it, but it was so off my radar that I didn't really pay attention. Then the ads for the fourth series, a mini-series subtitled Miracle Day, were released. The idea of a world supposedly "blessed" by an undying population was certainly intriguing. Soon after, I began Doctor Who and realized what I had been missing. But even with the knowledge that Torchwood starred Capt. Jack Harkness, one of my favorite recurring characters from the Doctor Who, I still had little interest in watching this. The two things that finally caused me to want to watch it were the newer promos for Miracle Day and the reputation of the third series, the miniseries Children of Earth. Simultaneously, I learned that Children of Earth was supposedly amazing but that the first two series were terrible. I decided that I would gamble on the idea that the criticism of the first two years were hyperbolic and that I would be somewhat lost by jumping into the show in its third year. That was a gamble I lost. Hard.

The difference in quality between the first two series and Children of Earth is almost unreal. (I haven't started Miracle Day yet, but I will soon.) They are essentially two different shows. The first two years were set up as a monster-of-the-week type of show, in which Jack Harkness leads a team of people based in Cardiff, Wales in adventures tracking down extraterrestrial threats and technology. Of the 26 episodes that comprised these first two series, I think there were only five, at most, that I truly enjoyed. These episodes were marked by dumb plots, cringe-worthy dialogue, and awful characterization. Plot-wise, this is a show that featured two episodes in a row that ended with me thinking: "Wait, what just happened? No, seriously, what just happened?" I literally had no idea what the villains' plans were nor what the Torchwood team did to fight against the plans.

Many of the characterization issues were tied to the plot, as characters would act in ways to suit the plot, only for them to act completely different the next week. Possibly the most egregious example was in the universally-reviled episode "Cyberwoman," in which Ianto Jones, who would go on to be a fan-favorite, acted like the stupidest person on the planet, threatened his fellow teammembers both directly and indirectly, and was generally a terrible person. The character of Gwen was also a problem, as she was most definitely a Mary Sue who was almost always right about everything, despite being the newest team member, and was given a free pass by the writers to be irredeemably awful, and suffer no consequences. At one point, she demanded her boyfriend forgive her for having an affair, only to drug him so that he wouldn't remember her telling him about the affair. (The show in general was much too nonchalant about mind rape.) And then there was Jack. He drove me crazy on this show, because he changed from being a likeable scoundrel to a scoundrel who yelled a lot and was devoid of any good ideas. Furthermore, despite his actor John Barrowman proving on Doctor Who that he knows how to act, he seems to have forgotten how on Torchwood. For example, check out this scene from the end of the first series (spoilers, obviously):



However, I must give credit where credit is due. In the first two series, there were a few episodes that were genuinely good, and the writers at least had some balls, as they were not afraid to kill off characters. I guess one could argue that the two who died were the least developed and one who was hated by a significant portion of the fans. But it cannot be denied that the writers killed 2/5 of the cast, and, in my opinion, in a rather heart-wrenching manner. Furthermore, I had grown to really like the hated character. He was a callous jerk, but unlike most of the characters on the show, he was a consistenly callous jerk who was mostly fun to watch (ignoring the awful Fight Club episode that featured him heavily). But overall, the first two series of Torchwood amounted to some of the worst television I have ever intentionally watched.

But then came Children of Earth. It was... something different entirely:



Over the course of five episodes, Torchwood changed from a dumb monster-of-the-week series into one that explored engaging sociological issues. "How much would you sacrifice to save as many people as possible?" "If some people have to die, do you try to ensure that the 'right' people survive?" "How do you value one person's life over another?" (Based on the above trailer and what I'd heard about the series, I thought another theme would be "Imagine you were asked how far you would go to save your children, then imagine that everyone on Earth had been asked that question simultaneously." That ultimately did not come about, so I'll have to write that story myself.)

One source says that Russell T Davies initially wrote this as a story completely unrelated to the Doctor Who universe, then later adapted it to be a Torchwood story, which makes a lot of sense, as the Torchwood characters, while the heroes, get a much smaller percentage of screen-time than you'd think in their own show. But it works. Children of Earth is a story about the extremely dark and dirty nature of politics (a lesson I am being hit over the head with, as I am currently reading the first book in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, A Game of Thrones, and the dangers of the political life are at the heart of the story). The mini-series tells the story of a strange alien species that threatens to destroy the entire human race if its demands are not met, at the heart of which are our children. I doubt there is anything else on Earth that would, when threatened, induce the same kind of hysteria in people, so the governments know that they have to tread lightly. As the miniseries unfolds over five days (also aired over five consecutive days), the attitude changes from "there is no way we will give in to these demands" to "how do we choose which children to sacrifice," to much darker questions. Throughout, the members of the Torchwood team are forced to examine their pasts and futures, and wonder where to draw the line when determining when a "necessary evil" is in fact necessary and what it means to be a human in this world.

Unlike the first two years, nearly everything clicks in Children of Earth. The writing is superb, Barrowman remembers how to act, Gwen becomes tolerable, and the story is not only enjoyable (in the most depressing way possible) but actually makes you think. Furthermore, the characters finally act like humans. Jack and Ianto begin a relationship/fling in the first series, but you'd never know it but for a few random comments. Finally, they act like adults in some kind of relationship. The show also feels like its part of a world beyond Cardiff. Torchwood is an organization independent of the government, but throughout the first two years, it almost seemed as if the government was non-existent. Here, Torchwood is but one entity among many working to "protect" humanity. The most amusing thing, though, is that my reasons for slogging through the 26 episodes prior were rendered irrelevant, as any characterization necessary to understand the characters was established on Doctor Who. The worst tendencies of Gwen and Jack were stripped away (none of which were present on Doctor Who when they were guest stars), while nothing that happened to Ianto before the miniseries was relevant. The only things that would have been relevant were related to the characters Tosh and Owen, who both died. (Descriptions of the miniseries stated that Jack, Gwen, and Ianto would spend part of the miniseries dealing with their friends' deaths, but aside from one shot of a photo of the two of them, that didn't happen.)

I urge you to check out Children of Earth (and most likely Miracle Day, but I haven't seen any of it yet), but stay as far away as possible from the episodes before it, unless you are a glutton for punishment.

Doctor Who: The Bounty of the Universe

Between this post and the previous one, I have caught up to the present with Doctor Who (revived series only; I have still not seen a single episode that aired before 2005). I know that my last post focused on an episode that I absolutely despised (more on that later), but I feel that I effectively stated that, "Love and Monsters" aside, the show was otherwise amazing. Oh, if I only knew what was to come.

Doctor Who has in some ways taken over my life. Then again, I am currently studying for the bar exam, so I don't really get out much anymore, and for the last few weeks, my study breaks consisted of watching an episode or two. But the show really has quickly ascended my hierarchy of fictional universes, and I am constantly finding more and more to love about it. And yet, I fully recognize that at times, the show can approach pretty deep levels of awfulness. Therefore, the fact that I enjoy it to the degree that I do is a testament to just how great it can be when it's on its A-game. I can best describe its quality like this: The average episode of the series is an above average, if not great, episode of television. When the show is bad, it is very bad. And when the show is at its best, it is some of the best televised science fiction around. In fact, the Series 2 finale shares many storytelling similarities with the Season 2 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is probably my favorite Buffy season finale. My goal is to discuss what works about the show, why things don't work sometimes, the cast (specifically the actors who portray The Doctor), and standout episodes. I initially planned on doing separate posts, but I think that these topics may be inextricably intertwined.

I guess the best place to start is with The Doctor himself. Or himselves. Doctor Who began back in the 1960s and has been running almost continuously since, so obviously, there has been more than one actor who has portrayed the lead role. Instead of going the Bewitched route and having no one make any mention of why The Doctor suddenly looks, sounds, and acts differently, the writers decided to make one aspect of Time Lord (The Doctor's species) biology the ability to regenerate themselves when close to death. The process would heal any wounds or life-threatening conditions, but it would also cause The Doctor's appearance and personality to change. The Doctor's basic character remains the same across regenerations, but little quirks and tics come and go with each actor.

In the episodes that I have seen, three actors have held the principal role. (I have seen episodes with archival footage of all of The Doctors, and in one mini-episode, the Fifth Doctor showed up, but I have not seen a full episode with him.) Christopher Eccleston started out as the Ninth Doctor, then David Tennant took over as the Tenth Doctor, and the show currently features Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor. All three of them have their own strengths and play The Doctor in their own way while still keeping a consistent character. (From here out, I will refer to each of them by their associated Arabic numeral.)

Before the new series began in 2005, regular episodes hadn't been produced since 1989, which then featured the Seventh Doctor. A made-for-TV movie featuring the Eighth Doctor (his only appearance on TV) aired in 1996. When 9's first episode aired in 2005, the series was still part of the same continuity as everything that had come before remained canon (unlike Battlestar Galactica, which was a reimagining of the original series), but big events had occurred between 8's movie and 9's first episode. A great war, the Time War, had occurred, wiping out the Time Lords and (supposedly) one of their primary enemies, the Daleks. (Near the end of 10's run, we learn that there were many other species and factions involved, but throughout 9's episodes, we really only hear about the Time Lords and the Daleks.) As a result, The Doctor was the sole remaining Time Lord. 9's personality is seemingly upbeat, but underneath the surface, he hides a lot of anger, loneliness, and guilt. 9's episodes serve to educate new viewers about who The Doctor is, who some of his enemies are, and how he conducts himself as he travels through space and time in his ship, called the TARDIS. Like I said, 9's first episode was the first episode of Doctor Who I saw, and I still have not seen anything preceding it, but I have never once been confused about the series, due to the writers laying everything out in the first series in a way that did not seem like an overly long recap.

In his first episode, 9 takes on a new companion, Rose Tyler, to travel with him. Throughout the series, The Doctor tends to travel with someone in order to share his adventures. In taking in Rose, 9 was able to soften and accept what he had done in the war. The companions choose to go with The Doctor because they want to see things and go places that they would otherwise never get to see. The Doctor takes on companions because they help make him a better person (the same is also true of his effect on them, for the most part). Throughout the course of 9's episodes, he takes Rose to different times and different planets, showing her Earth's past and future as well as the many wonders of the universe. She in turn helps him come to grips with his recent past, and the two form a very strong bond.

Of the three current Doctors, 9 tends to be discussed much less than 10 or 11, which is a shame, because he played the role very well, if very differently, and helped get most of the anxiety out of the way in time for 10 to take over. (One other reason why 9 doesn't get mentioned as much is probably due to the quality of the material he had to work with, which I'll get to soon.)

10, who many have claimed to be the greatest or second-greatest Doctor, is, in the words of 9, fantastic! David Tennant went from being a name with which I was familiar to one of my favorite actors due to his run as The Doctor. He played The Doctor as clearly still hurt from what happened during the Time War, but he had more or less come to terms with everything. It was during 10's run that I realized how different of a series Doctor Who is as compared to most sci-fi/fantasy shows that I have watched. With 9, he was certainly no killer, but he was about as willing to end life as your average sci-fi hero. For example, Malcolm Reynolds doesn't go around killing people for the fun of it, but he probably didn't have to kill that one guy by pushing him into the engine of Serenity. 9 doesn't go out looking for fights, but he was more than willing to rid the world of the last Dalek that had somehow survived the Time War. (Note: apparently, the Daleks have the amazing ability to always find a way to come back after being eradicated.) 10 on the other hand sees violence as the last resort, and was even against killing a new species of Dalek/human hybrids because he is absolutely against genocide. To put this in perspective, the Daleks are one of The Doctor's greatest and most feared enemies. I have jokingly referred to them as Space Nazis because their raison d'etre is to EXTERMINATE all life forms that are not Daleks. The have no emotion (although fear has sometimes crept in) and no mercy, and are often very efficient at killing. And yet, despite this, 10 always looks for a way for races to coexist in some way.

That does not mean that 10 is not a badass. He is. He will fight when he has to, and at that point, his enemies realize that they have made huge mistakes in pissing him off to the point of violence. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to use violence to win the day. In his first full-length episode, "The Christmas Invasion," after he defeated the aliens invading Earth, he told them to leave and never come back. As they did, the Prime Minister ordered a mysterious organization to destroy the retreating ship. 10 was so enraged at the act, something he deemed unnecessary as the aliens were leaving, he angrily (one great element of 10's character was that his anger was expressed through a chillingly soft tone of voice) told the PM that he would take her down through words. And he succeeded. Or, there was the excellent two-part story "Human Nature"/"The Family of Blood," in which most of the two episodes' run time involved The Doctor and his companion Martha Jones fleeing from some aliens. When they could run no further, 10 very easily found ways to defeat the antagonists by granting their greatest wish, to live forever. He placed them each in different a type of prison that would keep them alive forever, but in torment. 10 was generally a very exuberant and happy Doctor, but it was clear that pushing him to his breaking point was a very bad idea. As I said above, The Doctor takes on companions in part to keep himself in line. In the first episode in which 10 met companion Donna Noble, he angrily wiped out the unborn spawn of a hostile arachnid alien. The episode took place right after 10 split up with one of his companions, and arguably, that was partly why he was allowing himself to get so worked up. But years later into the show's run, 10 was traveling without a companion, and he lost his way because of it.

But usually, 10 was a very positive and fun person to watch. The show itself shared those qualities, as it presented a very optimistic worldview. Unlike a lot of modern American science fiction*, science tends to be generally good (as in someone who uses it for improper purposes is what is condemned, rather than the science) and exploration and tolerance are espoused. Meeting a new creature was a source of adventure and fun for The Doctor, and when his companions would get creeped out, or Earth officials would try to destroy an alien that had not yet shown hostilities, The Doctor would explain why they were wrong. The Doctor, 10 especially, refuses to carry a weapon (although he does have a multi-use tool called a Sonic Screwdriver that can certainly cause problems for his antagonists) and condemns those who would do harm to another with little provocation. In a two-part episode featuring 11, a group of humans that uses remote-controlled avatars to do dangerous work suddenly find themselves having to deal with the avatars gaining control over themselves. When they all freak out and decide that the situation is an "us-or-them" kind of deal, only The Doctor disagrees and argues that the avatars had done nothing to endanger the humans. Interestingly enough, this optimism was put to the test in one of my favorite episodes, "Midnight." That particular episode put the paranoia and xenophobia of humanity directly at odds with 10's optimism and xenophilia. I won't say anything more about the plot, but that episode showed us that David Tennant can act solely with his face and give a knock-out performance.

Compare that to a show like Stargate: SG-1, which is also about people exploring the galaxy. In that show, the main characters are soldiers who carry weapons and have much fewer qualms about shooting first and asking questions later. As soon as something even gives the hint that it could be a threat to Earth, it is an enemy until proven otherwise. Granted, one of the SG-1 team members is a non-military scientist who usually argues for understanding, but his view was often ridiculed by the team leader (which was sometimes right and sometimes wrong). I mention SG-1 in particular because of this flow chart. At first glance, I didn't really see the connection between SG-1 and Doctor Who, but as I said, they are both about exploration, but the American show is more about learning about the galaxy to protect homeworld security, while the British show is about learning for the fun of it. In LOST, killing is very rarely seen as a last resort, and many of the characters who take lives are relatively unaffected by it. And while I have not seen V, my impression of it is that it is very science-negative, meaning that the characters' immediate distrust of the aliens and their technology inevitably turns out to be correct.

11 continues the love of exploration, but he is simultaneously more childlike and more world-weary than his predecessors. Unlike 9 and 10, who showed a firm understanding of human culture (and many alien cultures), 11 is extremely odd and aloof, and has a lot of trouble blending in with human culture. (This is a constant about his character, but was most obviously shown in "The Lodger," in which he had to become roommates with a random guy in order to inspect some strange happenings in the house.) This translates into a lot of giddiness on his part when he sees or learns something new as well as a penchant for odd clothing, such as fezzes. At the same time, it becomes very clear (if it wasn't already from 10) that 900 years of life have made The Doctor lose some patience for certain things, and 11 can be very ruthless and unforgiving. The way in which 11 can shift from happy and goofy to stern and angry is part of what makes him such a great Doctor. He can change in an instant, the stimuli for whatever personality type he currently displays believably induces that type, and Matt Smith makes the performance very believable, funny, and scary.

Knowing all that about The Doctor, what of the universe in which he lives? Part of what makes the series so great is that the characters act like they are living in a fully realized world, in which people have lives off-screen and remember things that happened previously in the show. Far too often in television shows, big events will happen, but the non-main characters who perceive the big events conveniently forget what happened by the episode's end or before the next big event happens. In Doctor Who, people are not that stupid. In the first series, a two-part story involved a high-profile alien spaceship crashing into Big Ben. At the end of the story, the world remembers this event, and it gets referenced the next time an alien invasion is attempted. Also, every year, the show does a Christmas special. The first two were about alien invasions of Earth. In the third one, a character remarks that the streets of London are empty because everyone remembers what happened during the previous two Christmases, and stayed in their homes to avoid more hostile aliens (which did NOT happen that year).

Furthermore, nearly everything that the show does matters in some way. Each series has an underlying storyline, and while not every episode seems to forward the endgame upon first viewing, usually by the end of the series, small plot elements or references will take on new meaning. Sometimes, what seems like an episode-specific plot element will come back later and pay off in the finale. Or, a seemingly random or throwaway line of dialogue, which is relevant to the plot of the episode but otherwise forgettable, will have greater implications toward the end of the series. I am trying to keep this post as spoiler-free as possible (aside from stating that, at some point, 9 must regenerate into 10 and 10 must regenerate into 11), so the only example that I will give is this: In the episode "Blink," The Doctor notes that traveling through time without a capsule surrounding the traveler can be physically uncomfortable. By the episode's end, it does not appear as though that tip will be relevant again. The writers handle this element of the series splendidly, and rarely draw attention to the fact that they are setting something up. For example, in Series 4, one hint about the series endgame came out in a line of dialogue that seemed to be nothing more than a character-establishing moment for someone who we would never see again after the episode in which it was spoken.

When the show is at its best, the storytelling is masterful. The revived series has seen two showrunners: Russel T Davies, who started the revival, and Steven Moffat, who took over at the beginning of Series 5. Each one has his own strengths and weaknesses, and each has made the show his own. (So much so that the Moffat years seems to be almost a sequel to or spin-off of the Davies years.) They both excel at telling great science fiction stories, but Davies is better at creating emotional moments, whereas Moffat's strength lies in his ability to tell complicated and rewarding stories. I think that Davies was responsible for some of the most heartfelt and sad moments of the series, while Moffat has created more "Holy shit!" types of situations. They also each have their own weaknesses: For all of Davies' great episodes, he is also responsible for some of the worst episodes of the new show. And Moffat can sometimes get overly complicated and/or speed through storylines that could stand to be drawn out a little bit more.

Another interesting duality of the show is that sometimes, the writers know how to make the most out of a limited budget, whereas at other times, they clearly try to bite off more than they can chew. This was most obvious in Series 1, which had a much lower budget than the subsequent years. The effects in most of the episodes, including the first in particular, often were laughably bad (I'm looking at you, Auton-Mickey), and the sets were fairly minimal. Sometimes, this didn't matter; in "Father's Day," the special effects certainly looked silly, but the story was so good that I was able to look past them. In "Rose," on the other hand (the aforementioned first episode), the story matched the effects in cheesiness, and there were a few times when I almost gave up on the show. In particular, the climactic scene had some of the worst blocking/choreography I've ever seen in an action show. Just from watching how the characters positioned themselves at the beginning of the scene, it becomes immediately obvious how things will be resolved (and that the villains of the week are some of the dumbest advanced life forms to ever cross the galaxy). After the first year, though, the budget became big enough to effectively create grand scenes and situations. The show never quite loses its cheesiness during the Davies years; while most episodes are solid, every now and then, a plot, character design, or line of dialogue would come up that would nearly take me out of the episode. Fortunately, Moffat has nearly done away with that issue, creating a much sleeker and often darker version of Doctor Who.

Some of the worst episodes are those that cater the most to children at the expense of adults (the Series 1 episodes "Aliens of London" and "World War Three" featured aliens who had flatulence problems, which drove me insane), used silly antagonists in furtherance of a weak metaphor ("The Idiot's Lantern" was about some kind of sentient broadcast signal that could steal the faces of people who watched too much TV), or tried to stretch a thin plot over the course of a full episode ("Gridlock" had an important ending, but an otherwise forgettable story; "Planet of the Dead" was a 1-hour special that could have been told in half an hour). And then there was "Love and Monsters." My previous post made it very clear that I HATED that episode in ways that I could never hate many things that I dislike. (Although from what I'm told about the Twilight series, I would probably feel similar, if not greater, levels of hate for that.) I'm not going to go too far into detail about why I dislike "Love and Monsters" so much, as it is clearly spelled out in my last post, but that episode is an example of Doctor Who at its lowest. Unfortunately, it is not an isolated incident, as there are a few other episodes that are pretty low-quality. The good news is that no other episode is anywhere near as bad; I think my next-least-favorite episode is "Voyage of the Damned," a 1-hour Christmas special. That episode's crimes are that it is boring and inconsequential to the plot, a far cry from being offensive to my worldview in multiple ways the way "Love and Monsters" is.

Fortunately, the good of the show far outweighs the bad. To end this overly long post, I will give some examples of when the show worked best, listing some of my favorite episodes and explaining why they worked so well. The episodes I am picking tend to be the ones that either excel at telling an emotionally powerful story, do something different with the format of the show, act as game changers, or transcend the series to be excellent works of fiction in any medium. (I am thinking of one episode in particular, but I think that most, if not all, of the episodes below are strong examples of narrative fiction.) I will focus on the storytelling aspects of the episodes and will keep spoilers to a minimum.

"Dalek": This episode, from the middle of Series 1, introduced new viewers to the Daleks by using Rose as an audience surrogate. We also see The Doctor scared for the first time, which is a significant plot development, but that alone would not have been enough to convey the threat to new viewers. The design of the Daleks is kind of silly, but the writers acknowledged that by having Rose not understand the threat posed by them until it was too late. The episode also served as a chilling display of what The Doctor can be capable of if he is angry or scared enough.

"The Empty Child"/"The Doctor Dances": This two-part story was the first Doctor Who tale written by Steven Moffat, and it showed us that (1) we need to eagerly anticipate Moffat-written episodes, and, more importantly, (2) the show had the potential to be truly terrifying. The Daleks are a threat, but they do not induce terror in the viewers. The antagonist in these episodes was creepy as hell and caused horrific body horror images to occur. This would not be the last time one of Moffat's creatures deeply unsettled me.

"Army of Ghosts"/"Doomsday": The Series 2 finale, which, as I mentioned earlier, has certain plot similarities with Buffy the Vampire Slayer's "Becoming, Parts 1 and 2." The story was an edge-of-your-seat thriller which resulted in the most emotionally powerful scenes to date on the show, and still remains one of the best years later.

"Human Nature"/"The Family of Blood": Another emotionally powerful story, this one was able to tell a deeply sad story using characters who had been introduced in these episodes, rather than having two years of development to draw from. It also helped show why Martha Jones is my favorite companion, forcing her to keep everything from going to hell while The Doctor was incapacitated.

"Blink": Possibly the greatest piece of sci-fi/horror that I have seen in a while; effectively did "a lot with a little," making use of small budget to maximize the horror Another Moffat episode, this may be the greatest sci-fi/horror work that I have seen in years. This episode is proof that the writers and production company can do a lot with a little, as there are very few special effects. In addition, it's a "Doctor-lite" episode, so The Doctor and Martha are off-screen for most of it. Yet, this serves to only make it better, because what appearances they do have help create the foreboding atmosphere. Also, it's got one of my favorite jokes from 10's run.

"Planet of the Ood": Often, when science fiction shows do episodes about slavery, they can be a little heavy-handed. Yes, the message is good, but that doesn't always mean the metaphor works. This episode was a parable for slavery that worked beautifully. I can't quite explain why, but everything just clicked.

"Midnight": Like "Blink," this is another example of Doctor Who doing a lot with a little. It is what is known as a "bottle episode," which uses only a single set and usually only the core cast of characters. This episode did have some guest stars (but not companion Donna for most of it), but it took place almost entirely in a confined location, allowing the writers to do an episode about the nature of paranoia and fear. They overturned many of the show's conventions and used many of The Doctor's skills and quirks against him. And once again, they were able to portray a horrifying villain with no special effects or makeup.

"The Eleventh Hour": This was the first episode to feature 11 as the main Doctor, having been briefly introduced at the end of the prior episode. It was also Moffat's first episode as showrunner, and it expertly introduced us to the new Doctor, the new companion, and, in many ways, the new feel of the show. Moffat's years clearly are the same show, but the pacing and storytelling methods are much different. Even the TARDIS set got a major overhaul. The episode is very fast-paced and exciting, and shows us what kind of person 11 is going to be. It was also laugh-out-loud funny.

"A Christmas Carol": Doctor Who does a yearly 1-hour Christmas special. I was not exactly looking forward to this episode, as (1) they tend to be on the weaker end of the spectrum, and (2) A Christmas Carol has been done to death. Fortunately, the writers knew how to combine the themes of Dickens' story with the best elements of Doctor Who, which gave us a very unique take on the story of a wicked man who is forced to see the error of his ways on Christmas Eve. Michael Gambon (the second Dumbledore in the Harry Potter films) played the Scrooge surrogate as a man whose anger and greed stemmed from hurt, not from the fact that he was simply an angry and greedy man. And the people who filled in for the ghosts were excellent, notably the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.

"The Doctor's Wife": An episode written by Neil Gaiman, telling a scary story and utilizing excellent humor Knowing in advance that Neil Gaiman wrote this episode gave me very high expectations for it, which were sadly not met. And yet, it was still an incredible episode, utilizing Gaiman's knack for writing offbeat characters (one person in the episode reminded me very much of Delirium from The Sandman), creepy situations, and of course, humor.

So that was very long. I know it's a lot of information to take in, but if you haven't seen this show yet and you like science fiction, I highly recommend it, with the caveat that it can be bad at times, and much of those times were in the first series. But I guarantee you that it is worth sticking with, as the good is just so good.

*As much as I don't like Star Trek, I will admit that from what I have seen of it, it is a very science-positive show, and obviously believes in exploration and tolerance.

Doctor Who: Horror of Horrors

I really need to update this thing more often.

Anyway, there are two things I need to get into before I address the purpose of this post. The first is that I have recently begun watching the new version of Doctor Who, which began in 2005. I remember catching the last few minutes of episodes as they aired on the Sci Fi Channel (back when it was called that and when it ran Doctor Who, rather than BBC America which does now) while waiting for new Battlestar Galactica to start. It always looked kind of cheesy and Star Trek-y (by which I mean bad effects and bad dialogue; yes I hate Star Trek, sue me), so I never gave it much thought. However, one of my best friends told me a few months ago that he has been watching the show and that it is amazing. I trust his judgment in television, as we had many of the same favorite series when we met and we have recommended new (by "new," I mean new to the recommendee) shows to each other throughout our friendship. Around the same time, I started listening to the Hey Ash Whatcha Playin' Podcast, hosted by the co-creators of the (very funny) web series Hey Ash Whatcha Playin'. They too love Doctor Who and talked about it in nearly every podcast. Finally, when I started listening to the TV On The Internet Podcast, hosted by Todd Vanderwerff of The A.V. Club and his wife, I realized that the time had come to give Doctor Who a chance, as they also loved it. By the time I made the decision to watch, another friend of mine, whose opinions on pop culture I also deeply respect, recommended the show.

I am nearly through the second series (this is a British show, so I will use the proper nomenclature), and while there have been some low lows, it has been a great series overall. The leads are all great, most notably David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor. The budget was pretty low in the first series, but the second obviously saw a huge increase, as the sets, effects, and prosthetics have greatly improved. Furthermore, the stories are, for the most part, gripping and tense. And for a supposed "kids'" show, it can get downright creepy and scary. The infected people in the first episode of the second series looked scary and were appropriately menacing, and the creature effects in the next episode were amazing for television. Or, take the gas mask kid from the "The Empty Child"/"The Doctor Dances" two-parter. Really, every gas mask faced character was creepy (especially the transformation scenes), but the kid got extra creepiness points because (1) he's a kid (I share the kid fear affliction with Robin Scherbatsky of How I Met Your Mother) and (2) his endless cries for his mummy are deeply unsettling. Even better, look at the Daleks; they don't look imposing at all and they have silly voices. But their mission (genocide of any race/species that isn't a Dalek) and efficiency is what makes them scary as hell. This brings me to the second opening point.

I find it incredible what myself specifically and people in general can find scary in pop culture. Often, things that people did not intend to be creepy or disturbing end up being so, when things intended to be unsettling have the opposite effect and end up looking silly or humorous. One of my (least) favorite examples of this is Burger King's mascot The King. That creepy mask drives me crazy, and if I were a person who ate fast food regularly, those commercials would be enough to keep me out of Burger King for the rest of my life. Watch this, if you dare:



Scary, right?! I'd say that this is a massive failure, as advertisement is meant to make people want the product, but this just makes me want to run for the hills. However, enough people seem to find The King the exact right kind of creepy to capture their attention. Like a train wreck. And in a sense, that has happened to myself as well.

Another internet personality I have started paying attention to recently is the Nostalgia Critic (and his female counterpart the Nostalgia Chick), who has provided me with hours of entertainment through pointing out the sheer stupidity of the movies and TV shows I loved when I was growing up. But with good must come bad, and in watching some of their videos, I have seen terrible, terrible images. Images that I can never un-see. I don't know how many of these things were meant to be scary/creepy and how many just ended up that way due to bad animatronics, the uncanny valley, or laziness, but through these videos, I have seen the following: a baby with the face of Arnold Schwarzenegger (which may be the most disturbing thing I've ever seen); a fully-grown-man-sized animatronic baby; Matthew Broderick's disembodied, but still talking, head; the Star Wars Holiday Special; Tommy Wiseau; and something from the movie Howard the Duck that I dare not repeat here (let's just say that this webpage is relevant to its horror).

So what was the point of all that (aside from some shameless, albeit unpaid, plugs)? I wanted to point out that sometimes things go horribly wrong in making a movie or television episode, and what was intended to be funny, sweet, or cute ends up being horrific. And now to the point of this post. Like much of good science fiction, Doctor Who knows how to add a bit of bittersweet poignancy at the right times. Sometimes it's a little overwrought (to me, Rose's utter devotion to a father she never knew toes the line between sad-in-a-good-way and unbelievable), but usually, it's amazing. Just look at the last two episodes of the first series, or the end of "The Satan Pit," when we see just how devoted Rose is to The Doctor. But things went horribly wrong in the very next episode, "Love and Monsters." From what I've read and heard, this episode isn't exactly a fan favorite, but the ending affected me so much that I felt the need to write this post. So let's get into it.

The episode was not going to be a favorite of mine even before I got to the ending, as it did not follow The Doctor and Rose, but rather a quintet of socially challenged misfits brought together by their belief in the existence of The Doctor (after the episode ended, I learned that each subsequent series has featured a "Doctor lite" episode; I did not find this to be good news). I started warming up to it once I accepted that I wouldn't be seeing much of The Doctor and Rose and enjoyed the way they eventually started opening up to each other and learning how to interact with other people. But then a strange newcomer showed up and promised to help them find The Doctor. From his first scene, it was obvious that he was the antagonist of the episode, and I don't mean that in a way that was obvious only to the audience, who have the luxury of genre savviness and knowledge of formula. No, his evil purpose should have been obvious to the characters (the first thing he does is shut off the lights to make his entrance, then turn them back on with a command of his voice), but for some reason, they just couldn't figure it out. There were other hints as well, but the characters remained blissfully unaware until the end of the episode when his plan was revealed.

The stranger was an alien who ate by absorbing into his skin anyone who touched him. He wanted to absorb The Doctor in order to acquire all of his knowledge of time and the cosmos, but along the way, he absorbs four of the five characters. The only one who was spared had just declared his intention to begin dating one of the others (in maybe the angriest date proposition I've ever seen), to which she acquiesced. Unfortunately, she was absorbed, and at the end, we see the last remaining character, alone, monologuing to a video camera (the entire episode was framed by him making a video diary of his experiences). To me, it was a good, sad ending to a just-all right episode.

And then it happened.

As it turns out, The Doctor was able to salvage the consciousness of the remaining character's love interest when the alien died. (It was defeated when the character, Elton, destroyed a device that limited the alien's ability to absorb to people it touched. When Elton destroyed the device, the alien, and the four other characters, were absorbed into the world around it.) Using his advanced technology, The Doctor was able to bring Elton's love interest's face and memory back through the absorbed ground and keep it in a cement tile. Observe:Aaaaaaggggggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, but it just gets worse from there. Elton talks about how they have a relationship and they love each other, which I know is supposed to be bittersweet, but to me, it just raised some very disturbing implications. First and foremost was, if they have a relationship, then does she... Before I could even finish that thought, I got my answer when Elton says "We even have a bit of a love life."

Aaaaaaggggggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, so that disturbing image aside, here is why this supposedly bittersweet ending unnerved me to no end.

1. The Sex Thing
Just, augh! That is a mental image I do not need. But I have intellectual reasons for not liking this. The girlfriend, Ursula, is just a face, so any love life that they may have certainly isn't shared, unless the girl derives pleasure simply from giving... head (sorry for the pun). But even if she did, she has almost no pleasure centers to experience such sensation. She has lips, which are sensitive, but will kissing and giving oral sex be enough? Relationships are about more than just sex, but sex is an important part, and mutual pleasure is essential.

2. Limitations
It's not like either of the characters were social butterflies to begin with, but they will now probably never leave the house again. Elton didn't seem like the kind of guy who would be comfortable shrugging off the stares from people who can't understand something outside the norm (and this is nearly as outside the norm as you can get), so he and Ursula likely would never be able to do "normal couple stuff" aside from talking to each other and... no, not going to think about that anymore. I think we're supposed to find this acceptable, because, as I said, they were not social. But the entire point of the first third of the episode was that when these people can find others like them, they can finally branch out, be social, and do great things. Also, it was clear that, despite being socially inept, Ursula liked being out places (she talked about going to Trafalgar Square with others after an attempted alien invasion).

3. The Uncertain Future
Ok, so these two love each other, but they were never able to go on a date before Ursula was absorbed. They knew each other for a few months, but there were probably many things about each other they still had to learn. What happens if they realize they aren't right for each other? Elton has all the power, because he can always go out and (attempt to) find someone new, while Ursula had enough trouble finding someone when she had a body. Now that she can't go anywhere without Elton's help, she would probably never have the option of attempting to find a new suitor (only to cause a fit of screaming when said person sees a talking cement tile with a face). Even if they didn't break up, what if they had a fight? Would he just "put her away"? It's not like she can do anything about it. What if he does something like that after she... no, not thinking about that.

4. The Certain Future
One of the things Ursula says after she has been blocked is that she will never age. To me, that implies that she will never die. Maybe I'm wrong. But my reaction when I heard that was "Holy shit, The Doctor brought her back from the dead to live forever as a slab of concrete, while her 'true love' will eventually die." One sec.

Aaaaaaggggggggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!

What the hell is wrong with The Doctor? He is usually so wise in the ways of life, death, time, etc., but this seems like a horribly out-of-character terrible decision. The lesson should have been "life goes on," not "I can bring her back to you as a face and collection of memories so you will never have an incentive to move on." It is very possible that my opinion of this particular aspect is colored by another recent revelation I've had from watching all those Nostalgia Critic/Nostalgia Chick videos, which relates to cheap, unearned, and out-of-nowhere resurrection plots in children's entertainment. (Seriously, just go watch a bunch of those videos, and you'll be amazed. If I ever go to film school to get a Master's degree, I'm going to base my thesis on this.)

I was discussing this with the first friend I mentioned above, and he approached this from the point of view that saving Ursula is not a worse alternative to letting her die. He found the ending creepy (but not nearly to the same degree as I did; I've written a pretty sizable online essay to exorcise the demons of that ending after all), but no alternative inherently worse than the other, and that, in the actual ending, allowed the two characters to have some bittersweet happiness. As this post was meant to show, I had to respectfully disagree.

I can't remember the last time I had such a visceral negative reaction to media that I enjoyed. I'm sure they exist, but much more often, I feel this powerfully in a negative way about things I don't like (obviously). I didn't see the new Zack Snyder movie Sucker Punch (which was intentional, as not only did it look pretty bad, but I have not liked any of Snyder's other movies, and in one instance, actively despised it), but from what I could gather from previews and a synopsis I read, I'm sure it would have had a similar effect on me as this did. I find myself enjoying this show despite its flaws, but this episode, this ending, just got everything gloriously wrong for me.

Up next: Hopefully something less ranty...