Doctor Who: The End of Time, of Davies, and of Tennant (SPOILERS)

It’s New Years Day, 2010, and the Russell T. Davies era of Doctor Who has come to an end, bringing with it the demise of the Tenth Doctor. As an episode, The End of Time was like a microcosm of the Davies era – epic, clever but sloppy, overblown but with its heart in the right place, and buoyed by the occasional moment of true brilliance. There are a lot of things I could say about the episode as a whole, both good (the fact that they remembered to keep a bit of the old goofy adventure spirit and didn’t turn the whole thing into a turgid dirge, which must have been tempting) and bad (Donna’s involvement was a complete waste), but in the end, the episode as a whole isn’t the point (and, as a whole, it was pretty middle-of-the-road anyway). The regeneration is the point – and as it turns out, the Doctor’s death embodies some of the best and the worst aspects of Davies’ writing.

In the Confidential for this episode, Davies said that he always envisioned this end for the Tenth Doctor, at least in rough terms. The idea was to play up the impending death and make it look like the Doctor would sacrifice his life in order to save the Earth/Universe/Reality/etc, then turn it around by having him survive the tremendous confrontation and die for a much less epic reason – to save the life of a single person. I think this was an excellent choice, in that it both plays off of the character arc of this incarnation of the Doctor, who tended to have an awkwardly messianic air about him and had been turning increasingly megalomaniacal over the past year, and also plays off of viewer expectations from five years of excessively epic series finales. The resulting moment, when the rug is pulled out from under the Doctor just as the first wave of relief washes over him, is tremendously effective, doubly so for the fact that it plays out largely without music. The subsequent tantrum also works very well, because it isn’t really a tantrum. The Doctor isn’t actually arguing or protesting anything; he knew full well that he was going to give his life to save Wilf from the moment he saw that Wilf was trapped inside the box. It’s the point that he’s been heading for through the whole story, emotionally speaking: the acceptance that he can’t control everything. The rollercoaster he’s been on (I’m going to sacrifice myself, no, wait, I’m going to live! Oh. Never mind. I’m going to sacrifice myself) has just torn him down enough that we get a peek at what’s really inside (more on that momentarily).

So the Doctor saves Wilf, takes a lethal dose of radiation, and everything is playing out marvelously from my perspective. Then the trouble starts. The Doctor’s death is slow, enough so that he has time to travel around and see all of his recent friends and companions one last time. It’s a solid idea on paper, but on screen it reeks of two of my biggest issues with Davies as a writer – over-mythologizing his characters and refusing to stop milking an emotional moment until the cow is a withered husk. Taken individually, the scenes are actually quite good. Well, some of them, anyway – the Sarah Jane scene is pretty awful, and the Martha/Mickey one is fairly blah. Taken as a whole, though, they add up to a momentum killing slog. The idea could probably have been salvaged by playing it out on a smaller scale, with fewer visits. Quality aside, the Sarah Jane scene should probably have been cut because she never really belonged to THIS Doctor, per se. Jack’s scene could go for the same reason, although he probably has a better claim for inclusion. The scene that ties back into the Human Nature 2-parter from season 3 is also fairly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, although it’s a really nice scene. All in all, it makes the most sense to stick with Martha, Donna, and Rose, the only long-term companions in the bunch. Still, at least Davies put the two weakest entries (see above) first, which got them out of the way, and he did come up with what may be the only satisfying way to have the Doctor visit Rose.

We’re not done there, though- the Doctor stumbles, ever so slowly, to the Tardis. He has a vision of Ood Sigma, who activates the soundtrack for him. At this point, I was starting to wonder if he was ever going to die, and if the end of the Tenth Doctor had been completely botched – but then came the Doctor’s final line, which was so perfectly chosen that it made up for all of (well, most of) the dilly-dallying that had gone on before. As the regeneration energy washes over him, the Doctor says,

“I don’t want to go.”

I loved this at first because I thought Davies had fooled me. The story was blatantly set up to move the Doctor from trying madly to stay alive to making peace with his fate – but it didn’t play out that way at all; he took it in a different direction that I wasn't expecting. That wasn’t it, though – the obvious arc had played itself out. This was something else, a different, more interesting wrinkle - and what made it so interesting and effective was its rather shocking degree of honesty. Looking at it from a broader standpoint, it’s a sharp contrast to the typical portrayal of the noble sacrifice or acceptance of imminent death. Usually, these portrayals (first one off the top of my head is Rachel Weisz in The Fountain) conflate acceptance with happiness. People meet their end with a beatific smile- but that’s not really what acceptance is about. Really, I think we get away with this notion because nearly the entirety of the world believes in either an afterlife or reincarnation, so people in question are probably not really facing the idea of dying, of being no more. And yes, the irony that the Doctor does actually, literally reincarnate is not lost on me. At any rate, the Doctor came to terms with his death, he faced it head on, and even had time to tie up his loose ends. It was about as good a death as one could hope for, and he was probably as prepared as he possibly could be – but at the last moment, when he could feel it happening, he was still scared. He was still sad. He still wasn’t really ready, not completely – after all, who could be? By showing that fear, by demonstrating that emotions are not absolute, Davies muddied the waters a bit, adding a bit of complexity that I don’t remember seeing portrayed before. Of course, as soon as I post this, I’ll probably remember a half-dozen examples. So let’s just say rarely portrayed.

The line was also very well chosen from the standpoint of the Tenth Doctor’s character. Moreso than any other incarnation, the Tenth has built his personality out of layers of pretense. The Ninth Doctor was similar, constantly switching from a sort of manic exuberance to angry depression, but the issues with Ten go deeper. He didn’t switch from exuberance to depression as quickly; the mask stayed on for longer. Worse still, even when the mask came off, it just revealed more layers of pretense, which is evident in the fact that no matter what “mode” he was in, the common thread was bravado and hubris. When he got angry, it was with a god-like fury (Runaway Bride, Family of Blood). When he was scared (The Impossible Planet, The Stolen Earth), or forced to admit his powerlessness (Fires of Pompeii, the first half of Waters of Mars), he lorded his fear and/or knowledge of greater powers over the lesser beings (that would be us humans) that he always had around. Deep down, I think the Tenth Doctor was the most child-like of all his incarnations, in a very literal sense. We saw a little bit of it just before he saved Wilf (told you I’d get back to it), but I think the only time we’ve ever really seen the Tenth Doctor, the only time he wasn’t performing for someone, at least a little, was in the last few moments of his life. There were a lot of things wrong with the final two episodes, but for that moment, I’m willing to forgive an awful lot.

There now. I meant for this post to be an overview of the last five years of Doctor Who, with discussion of the best and worst episodes, but then I went blathering on about the regeneration for who knows how long. The rest of this may be correspondingly briefer than I’d originally intended. We’ll start with the top ten stories from the new Doctor Who series:

10. Utopia/The Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords
Russell T. Davies, Season 3

Just to get it out of the way, yes, this is the story with Doctor Jesus floating across the room after everyone prays to him. And yes, I think it was a terrible way to resolve the plot – but Doctor Who is nothing if not inconsistent, and there is so much else to love about this story that it still just ekes out a spot in the top ten. Utopia is nearly flawless, Simm’s performance as the Master is great fun, the reveal of the true nature of the Toclafane is inspired, and, while the Master’s defeat is a low point for the series, his death is one of the highest points.

9. School Reunion
Toby Whithouse, Season 2

Because I love K-9, and the idea of seeing how a companion’s life turned out after leaving the Doctor was a novel one at the time. Sarah Jane’s presence brought a real sense of history (which is pretty much gone now that she’s become tied in so closely to the modern era), which helped the emotional moments affect me more than they often do. Also, this is the episode where Mickey started to become interesting.

8. Human Nature/Family of Blood
Paul Cornell, Season 3

Hey, look, it’s Daisy Steiner! And walking scarecrows! And pictures of past Doctors! And the Doctor is pretty damn scary at the end! It’s really just a good, solid story, with lots of cool little bits (see above) to make it appeal even more to me – not to mention Joan’s utterly devastating dressing down of the doctor when he asks her to travel with him, which is a high point in a strong season.

7. Waters of Mars
Russell T. Davies and Phil Ford, Thanksgiving Special

Most of this episode feels pretty standard, although it ups the creepiness well beyond the level of most episodes. It’s the last fifteen minutes that put it on this list. If you’ve seen the episode, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, I’m not going to ruin it.

6. The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances
Steven Moffat, Season 1

It’s got the creepy gas-mask kid, a well-supported mystery regarding the origin of the creepy gas-mask kid, which totally plays fair with the audience, and a wonderful moment of catharsis for the Ninth Doctor at the end. All this and the introduction of Captain Jack. What’s not to like?

5. The Girl in the Fireplace
Steven Moffat, Season 2

Again with the creepy creatures, this time clock-work robots. The episode makes good use of time travel as part of the plot, rather than an excuse for a new setting, which is always a plus in my book. It’s funny, it’s scary, it’s sad - there’s a little bit of everything here. This is Doctor Who firing on all cylinders.

4. Dalek
Robert Shearman, Season 1

This was the first time we really got to see just how damaged the Doctor was (psychologically speaking) by the time war. He acts completely out of character throughout the episode, all because of the presence of a Dalek survivor. I love the scene where he goes to help the imprisoned alien, and when he realizes that it’s a Dalek, he just completely – loses – his – shit, which is fascinating to see. The resolution of the episode serves as a very fitting farewell to the Dalek race; it’s as good of a final Dalek episode as I could imagine. Too bad that isn’t what it turned out to be.

3. Gridlock
Russell T. Davies, Season 3

I give this episode a lot of credit because, along with Jaynetown from Firefly, it’s one of the few times I’ve ever been presented with a compelling argument or demonstration that religion is (or can be) a good thing. It’s also one of the most emotionally resonant episodes of the series for me.

2. Midnight
Russell T. Davies, Season 4

This is probably the scariest episode of the series, and there is nary a monster to be seen (sort of). It’s a tight little production, taking place almost entirely on one set, and really shows how strong of a writer Davies can be when he’s not threatening the entire planet with extinction or whatnot.

1. Blink
Steven Moffat, Season 3

Hey, surprise, surprise. Blink is my favorite episode. I’m not even going to say anything about it because Blink is everyone’s favorite episode, and it would just be redundant.


And, in descending order (least-bad to worst), here are the worst stories of New Who:

10. Rose (Season 1)
9. Fires of Pompeii (Season 4)
8. The Long Game (Season 1)
7. Idiot’s Lantern (Season 2)
6. The Lazarus Experiment (Season 3)
5. Aliens of London/World War III (Season 1)
4. Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel (Season 2)
3. Daleks in Manhattan/Evolution of the Daleks (Season 3)
2. Voyage of the Damned (Christmas Special)
1. Fear Her (Season 2)

And I think that’s as far as we’re going to take this. Farewell to Russell T. Davies, to David Tennant, to the last vestiges of Christopher Eccleston. Whatever (often perfectly valid) complaints one may have about your time on the show, no one can deny that it’s been a smashing success – and I can’t wait to see, in three months, if Steven Moffat and Matt Smith can top it.

Caprica: The Pilot: The Review

I’m a couple of weeks late in getting to it, but I finally watched the unrated extended pilot for Caprica, which is currently available on DVD in anticipation of the full series, which will air sometime next year. Having done so, I have to say that. . . well, it’s okay. Not really good, but not by any means a disaster. That’s the short version. Here’s the long, which will have the occasional spoiler:

Caprica is, of course, a prequel to the new Battlestar Galactica, which completed its run not long ago. I think that connection, though, is best ignored. There are names (Adama, Caprica), design elements (the missing corners on paper), and concepts (Artificial intelligence, Mono- vs. Poly-theism) in common between the two shows, but keeping Battlestar in mind while watching Caprica is, at the very least, distracting. I know that little Willy Adams eventually grows up to be Edward James Olmos, and that made it hard to think of him as an 11-year-old – which in turn prevented me from buying into his scenes entirely. I know that the Cylons that rebelled fifteen years later or so only seemed to have rudimentary intelligence and communication capabilities, so the fact that the prototype has a human-level mind seems to be a problem. These complaints aren’t really fair, though, because neither really has anything to do with what’s going on in the show itself. So I’ll try to put Battlestar out of my mind.

Even ignoring Battlestar Galactica, though, Caprica is still a mixed bag. First, the good – the adult cast is quite solid, particularly the two leads: Eric Stoltz is, as usual, fantastic, and while Esai Morales couldn’t quite match him, he still brought a kind of essential humanity to the role that added a lot to the show as a whole. Bear McCreary’s music helped to develop more of a mood than some of the other elements of the show really deserved. The production design and cinematography were very effective, with the simple shift between the greys and blues of Caprican society and the warmer colors of the Taurons. The story is built on some interesting and weighty ideas relating to the nature of consciousness and identity – I particularly liked virtual Tamara’s pain and horror as she started to figure out that she didn’t exist. All in all, there’s a lot to like here. Unfortunately. . . .

. . .there’s also plenty to dislike. As good as the adults were, the teenage actors nearly sunk the whole thing with their belief that shrill and dramatic are the same thing. This is particularly problematic because the show was heavily front-loaded with their scenes, which could cause viewers to check out prematurely. The effects were pretty hit and miss – little things like the electronic paper were pretty good, but big things were more problematic, with the train explosion looking particularly embarrassing. The prototype Cylon was about on par with those from Battlestar, which is to say, not all that good, but good enough not to be a distraction. And those weighty ideas I was so keen on? Nothing is actually done with any of them. They’re just laid out there, touched upon, and cast aside. Of course, this is just a pilot, and there may be a lot more thematic exploration of these things over the course of the series.

Speaking of which, that leads to the question that ultimately determines the effectiveness of any pilot – do I want to watch the series? The answer is yes, provisionally. There’s enough decent groundwork here to build a good program on, and pilots are typically much, much worse than the series that follow (the only two exceptions that come to mind are Firefly and Battlestar). That’s the beauty of shooting a pilot - you get the chance to step back and reconceive problematic elements before starting up the series proper. With that in mind, here are some changes that will keep me watching:

1. Ditch the teenagers. Or at least minimize them. I’m sure Zoe will stick around, considering that she is now the first Cylon, but her friend could be booted, especially if my next suggestion is heeded:

2. Downplay the religious strife. As much as I love Polly “Atia” Walker, I’m already bored with her school for monotheistic terrorists. I’m not suggesting they ignore religion completely – it’s a key component of any culture and adds depth to the world they’re building – but I’d be happier if it became more of a tertiary element.

3. Lighten up! I actually have pretty high hopes for this one, since Jane Espenson will be taking over as showrunner about halfway through the season. She was responsible for Intervention, which is by far the funniest episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as an amusing episode or two of Firefly and Angel. A lot of people complain about Battlestar Galactica being completely joyless, but I think it had a decent undercurrent of humor that was missing from Caprica. Yes, I understand that it’s a story about two guys whose families just got blown up, so things will necessarily be a little somber. But it will get old without a little bit of contrast. I don’t need actual comedy routines, just a few lighter touches, like the funny, halting walk that Joseph Adama had during his first visit to the virtual world. More of that, please.

4. On a similar note, MORE ROBOT BUTLER!!!!

5. Less Willy Adama. I know I said it’s not fair to be distracted by his future Edward James Olmos-ness, but I can’t help it.

As I indicated above, I only really expect to see change number 3, but who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky. At any rate, I’ll leave you with a couple of random comments/observations:

--Zoe, from some angles, looks a lot like Zooey Deschanel. She also kind of sounds like her. Given her name, I was consistently amused by this.

--I do like the fact that the first Cylon is a rebellious teenage girl, since they revealed on Battlestar Galactica that the Cylon genocide against humanity was caused by what amounts to a petulant child with severe mommy and daddy issues. See? It does all tie together.

--Several early scenes in the pilot featured a decent amount of nudity and sexual content, which will certainly be cut from the Sci-Fi Channel (oops, I mean Syfy) airing. I think it’s very interesting that they went ahead and shot this footage anyway, especially since it wasn’t just random cutaways – there were shots that included both bare breasts and principal cast members. This suggests to me that we’re reaching the tipping point where producers are beginning to view the DVD release as the primary home of a program, with the actual television airing serving as a sort of promotional necessity. This is a very good thing.

Is it a Guilty Pleasure if I Don't Feel Guilty?

A few weeks ago, I did a bad, bad thing.

Thanks primarily to the involvement of this man-

-I started watching a reality TV show. The man in question is the genius writer of The Specials and Slither (and ex-husband of Pam Beesley from the Office), Mr. James Gunn. The show in question is Scream Queens, on VH1.

I’ll wait while you finish chuckling to yourself.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waited.

Okay. This isn’t some sort of confession. I’m not trying to get this off my chest. I’m actually asking, why in pluperfect hell aren’t any of you watching it? This isn’t just reality, man. It’s what reality ought to be like: ten aspiring actresses competing week after week for a role in a major Hollywood blockbuster.

Oh. Said blockbuster is Saw VI. Well, I hear the runner up gets a candy bar. Which is just about as good.

Prize lameness aside, the competition itself is fascinating. Every episode has three acting segments – a semi-improv/ad hoc scene, a workshop, and the director’s challenge, where they actually shoot a scene. These scenes include being attacked by a snake in a bathtub, kicking the ass of a psychopathic killer, seducing a man in order to drink his blood, encountering a swarm of man-eating cockroaches, and the highlight, a trailer for the imaginary movie Reform School Zombie Squad. As much as I love these scenarios, the really interesting thing is watching the girls progress through the program, changing and growing each week. It’s like acting boot camp - they aren’t just competing for a role, they’re training for it, and you can actually see the results. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there’s honest to god depth to the proceedings.

Of course, they’re also all locked in a house together and like to hang out in the hot tub, engage in petty dramatic conflicts, and record bitchy remarks in the confessional booth. But we don’t have to mention these things in polite company.

Even if you don’t appreciate all of the acting craft method rigamarole, Scream Queens still has plenty to offer, mostly in the form of gutbusting hilarity. Sometimes it’s a great bit of a scripted scene, like in Reform School Zombie Squad:

Warden: I’ve been reviewing your record, Channon, and I don’t like what I’m seeing.

Channon (dropping her robe): Review this record, Warden. And by record, I mean Vagina.

Sometimes it’s the magic of a complete idiotic train wreck, such as Michelle’s response to the judges’ complaints that she wasn’t emotionally present in her scene:

For me, it’s kind of hard, because I didn’t have a lot of emotional stuff happen. . . I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging or anything, but I’ve had a really, really great life growing up.

They also like to deliver scripts to the girls in the most hilariously “scary” way possible. The first week, the scripts were in the middle of a bunch of live snakes on a breakfast tray. The second week, a midget dressed as a doll leapt out of a pile of real dolls to deliver the message. One week the scripts were around the neck of a zombie that was vomiting blood all over the swimming pool.

Ultimately, though, the best part of the show isn’t even part of the show itself. This brings us back around full circle to James “PG Porn” Gunn, one of the three judges. Anyone who’s seen his work knows that he is a funny, funny man. Turns out he’s also a funny, funny man with a blog (I know, I know, what are the odds). Every week he posts a lengthy description of his experience on the show, discussing the reasons why the judges judged the way they judged (Judge. Judgejudge), the funny things that didn’t make the final cut, the stupid decisions made by VH1 producers, and the fact that fellow judge and acting coach John Homa apparently cries like a girl. One could argue that, taken on its own, the show does not actually have the depth that I ascribe to it – but when you put the show and the blog together, you get something that’s actually kind of special (no, not that kind of special).

So watch the show, read the blog, and be prepared to have you life changed. Not that Scream Queens will change your life; it’s just good to be prepared in general. But don’t take my word for it – take James Gunn’s word (Re: The midget/doll encounter)

The girls were honestly freaked out on the midget. No feigning here. Tanedra took of her shoe and swatted at her! That's correct: TANEDRA TRIED TO HIT A MIDGET WITH HER SHOE BECAUSE IT WAS DRESSED LIKE A DOLL. Why are people watching fucking SURVIVOR?

PS: My pick to win is Angela. That’s right, I’m predicting the winner of a reality TV show. Someone shoot me.