War is in the air on both shows this week. I can't think of a better linking factor than that, so let's plunge in.
Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 3: Cold War
Well, that was cracking. That was like Das Boot collided with Alien* via The Thing. Captained by Davos Seaworth.**
In a continuation of what I have been saying about the show getting all nostalgic about itself, what with the anniversary coming up, we got a revisiting of a classic Who monster this week, the Ice Warrior(s). And boy, is it working. Not just the resurrection of an old foe, but the return to 'Monster of the Week' done right - dark corridors, increasing body count, tense stand-off, obvious yet well-conceived metaphor. This episode also embraced the best of New Who as well by delivering a couple of twists on the old formula - instead of the West, we land on a Russian sub (cue lots of fun with actors shouting "DAMMIT, ONEGIN" and "PIOTR IS IN THE HOLD, COMRADE" at each other), and instead of a suited and booted Ice Warrior, we get a pair of disembodied and touchingly non-CGI claws dangling from the ceiling like the crane in an arcade game. It was both scary and fun, serious and tongue-in-cheek - in beverage terms, it was a lovely cuppa.
Last week's 'Warm Respect' on the Clara-o-meter is rising swiftly towards 'Soppy Adolescent Puppy Love'. Is it just me, or is she the first companion in a good long while to actually react like a person? Her anxieties over negotiating the peace treaty (it was a test, we all know it was a test, Doctor, you have failed at subtlety***), being struck by the realness of the eviscerated bodies as the Doctor dashes off to do something sonic-y because bodies are ten a penny to him, her agreement to actually stay put when told, her tentative mention of Skaldak's daughter - it was all beautifully conceived and acted. Mad props to Jenna-Louise Coleman, and mad props to Mark Gatiss for knowing how to write Watson right (I guess he's had practice). Of course, if I am being really and truly honest (and what better place for that than the internet, right?) I know the real reason I like Clara is because she behaves the way I would behave. The way I suspect most of us would behave, in fact - scared and stupid and making jokes to deflect the mindfuck of the whole TIME-TRAVELLING SPACE ALIEN thing, and just occasionally sharp enough or human enough to spot something important, save the day and comment on it - who wouldn't want to say the words "We save the world" as much as humanly possible? And then hug it out afterwords. Naturally.**** The whole 'impossible' parallel lives thing is incidental - Clara is good enough to watch on her own merit, and that really is special.
I can't quite work out her relationship with The Doctor yet though. Most Doctor-Companion dynamics are played as analogies for romantic relationships, if not out and out cases of sexual tension, and while he seems very keen to impress her, there's a sense in which she's something of a specimen because of her time-and-space-and-death-defying tendencies. That hug at the end was a little bit fatherly, a little bit grandfatherly, and a little bit something else that makes this a very bloody interesting dynamic to watch unfold. Long may it continue, I say, and drive us all mad with the ambiguity.
The supporting cast was equally excellent. Tobias Menzies on excellent cheekbone-sharp form as dour, trigger-happy Stepashin - my only complaint is that he copped it too soon, I would have liked to see him team up with Skaldak for some good old-fashioned murder funtimes. David Warner was likewise underused, I felt, which is only testament to how excellent he was when he got the chance. I did keep waiting for him to turn into the villain, though, which is maybe Hollywood's fault. Liam Cunningham is now no longer allowed to play anything except gruff yet ultimately trustworthy sea captains, and long may he reign. Props, too, to the rest of the sub's suspiciously young, nubile seamen (tee hee hee).
Menzies and Warner's lack of resolution is a symptom of Gatiss episodes in general though: the pay-off is never quite good enough to live up to the excellent situations he creates. All three of his episodes in the Moffat era have now ended with the villain essentially being talked down and told to be a nicer person ('Victory of the Daleks', Amy convinces Bill Paterson that it's much nicer to be a human than a Dalek robot, and 'Night Terrors', the Doctor tells Daniel Mays to tell his alien son not to be scared). Gatiss writes people and dialogue excellently, with warmth and heart, and has an excellent eye/nose/ear for the grotesque and absurd but his plotting leaves something to be desired and there's always a point at which his episodes become Scooby-Doo-scary rather than Moffat-scary. He's been named as a potential successor to the Blessed St Stephen, but I don't see it. I'm just not sure his imagination is Doctor Who-shaped - it's all a bit too clever sometimes, but without the flare for spectacle that lets Moffat get away with it. All a bit too grown up, in other words.
But this is a general reflection, and the oddly prescient eighties setting (heaven knows what they would have done with any Thatcher references) coupled with the chilling motif of mutually assured destruction worked on Gatiss' terms. I do wonder how many seven year olds were nodding along going, "Yes, of course, because the SALT talks failed in 1979 after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan" but hey ho (yes, I know actual history, not just fictional history). It was a beautiful analogy for how we relate to the unknown, and I suspect Clara's central role in the episode - despite spending much of it waiting backstage, as it were - was due to this. Lots of funny jokes about Ultravox too.
This may well have been Gatiss' best effort yet, though I'll always harbour a soft spot for Series 1's 'The Unquiet Dead' (Chris Eccleston telling Simon Callow's Dickens that he's a huge fan while in a hansom cab fleeing walking corpses). He seems to be on a winning streak, actually, after ending Sherlock on such a flawless, ovary-destroying high. Thus far the series continues to shine in its embrace of its own Glorious History (a mention of Susan last week, and I've just confirmed my suspicion that the HADS was an Old Who concept via the magic of Google). We know there are Gaiman-retooled Cybermen coming up in a few weeks' time, and an exploration of the TARDIS interior even sooner than that. Best of all, I've just found out that River Song will be dropping by for snogs and adventure in the series finale, also including a new Moffat villain called the Whispermen. I'm expecting a barnstormer here, and for once I don't feel over-optimistic about hoping.
Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 3: Walk of Punishment
And punishment was very much our theme this week with the episode ending on an event I've been strenuously and determinedly not spoiling for anyone who hasn't read the books: Jaime bids a sudden farewell to his right hand. How great are Jaime and Brienne? Very bloody great is the answer, with their sulky bickering sitting back to back on a horse turning inch by inch towards a mutual respect so grudging it leaves skid marks. They're finding each other's sensitive spots too, with Brienne asserting that Jaime's best days are behind him (boy, is she prescient) and Jaime suggesting getting raped might go over easier if she imagines it's her Dead Gay King. Jaime rides in with the most casual rescue imaginable later on (metaphorically, he's chained to a tree), preventing said rape by pointing out she could be ransomed for a hefty sum, then hedging his bets and playing for his own release too, which comes off considerably less well. Don't worry, it's all character development. They're Not So Different After All.
Elsewhere in Westeros, the worlds of Doctor Who and Game of Thrones continue to collide with Tobias Menzies showing up again as family fuck-up Edmure Tully. I don't think the Tullys are really anyone's favourite (their sigil is a fish) but Menzies manages to make the family trait of self-righteousness-in-the-face-of-overwhelming-evidence-of-just-being-wrong sort of endearing, especially as he faces a double dressing down by both his nephew King Robb (what happened to you, man? You used to be cool) and his uncle Brynden Blackfish (an excellently cast Clive Russell - but then, they're all excellently cast). Actually, Robb recovered a little of his equilibrium this week, without Robb's Non-Canonical Wife to weigh him down - even GRR Martin himself, a man who, after all, is not known for his restraint, kept Jeyne Westerling (Robb's Canonical Wife) largely off the page, knowing that we want to see the King in the North being...well, a king. One of the successes of that storyline in the books is that what might play out as a tale of love defying fate elsewhere becomes a rash and foolhardy act when viewed in the context of Westeros' special brand of pointy-stick-orientated politics. The television series' greatest misstep so far has been to take the first view of it, and it sticks out like a chopped off hand.
We're back with Dany again this week, who I'm guessing is cooking up some punishments of her own and developing some much-needed steel ("All men must die. But we are not men.") as Ser Jorah "Friendzoned" Mormont and Ser Barristan "Obi Wan" Selmy vie for first dibs on the advising. We get Jorah's pragmatism v Barristan's romanticism; which one will Dany choose? Well, I already know because I've read the books. But it's really good. Anyway, one of the few moments when knowing the series came at a disadvantage as I was desperately hoping we'd get to see Dany's next actions in the same episode but no dice. Instead, dragon-selling.
Negotiations and machinations took centre stage actually, despite the highest-thus-far injury count (dead slaves, dead horses, dead soldiers, near-rape, Jaime's hand) as we returned to King's Landing for some more Government 101 - this week, finance! Always good news as it means my pal Littlefinger will be smarming about somewhere (sounding this week like he's lost his voice, but smarming really takes its toll on a person); we get him and Tyrion expounding two very salient views on how to manage a country's finances, it's either "make the numbers dance, fuck the consequences" (Littlefinger) or "really really don't borrow money you know you can't pay back" (Tyrion). Topical. Anyone else automatically assume Littlefinger had paid off Podrick Payne's frighteningly flexible prostitutes himself as a means of transferring the debt and being owed a favour? Or was it actually just an opportunity for Peter Dinklage to show us how good he is at being wry and Pod really is a sex wizard? Anyway, Littlefinger's off to the Vale to woo Lysa "Thousand Yard Stare" Arryn and put his own nefarious plots into practice. Personally, I hope he gets a spin off.*****
A quick round-up of the rest then. Stephen Dillane continues to be excellent as Stannis Baratheon, who - next to Daenerys Targaryen - probably has the best actual claim to the Iron Throne yet is a proper hardline bastard, like. "I want to see Joffrey dead," he says, to the ringing sound of no-one anywhere arguing. Maybe if he just put a wall up around Dragonstone and took a few days off with Davos and Melisandre, he'd be a bit happier. Certainly happier than pondering whether he's ready to spill his child's blood for the throne, after Melisandre rejects his advances. ("It would kill you," she says. Now that's body confidence.) Not much over the Wall, just more opportunities for Jon Snow to look conflicted and adorable as everyone continues to want to either hug him or slap him or maybe both at the same time, as Ciaran Hinds orders the Wildings off to war against the Night's Watch. Aforementioned Night's Watch continue to bully Sam Tarly as they return to the home of the monstrous Craster (blimey, it's a good thing I've read the books or it would be really hard keeping all these bearded old white guys straight - I don't want to sound racist but they all look the same). I spotted Burn Gorman amongst them today too, aka Owen from Torchwood, for whom I have always had a soft spot despite his propensity for playing unpleasant little squits. No Davos or Joffrey or Margaery this week (boo) and no Sansa or Bran either (some kind of noise that is like shrugging, only noise), with only the briefest of Greyjoys (have a drink on me, show), but really I only notice who wasn't there when I'm writing these blogs and cannot make inappropriate comments about them - another testament to how well balanced this show is.
What really made this episode stand out, though, was the little moments. There must have always been a temptation to hurtle through the books at breakneck speed, cramming in as many events as possible (including quite a few broken necks), but the series has now fully established itself as an entity in its own right, going at its own pace. The fact that it can afford to lie back and toss us a delightful scene about Podrick Payne being a sex genius or Hot Pie baking unconvincing wolf bread for Arya (reminding me that Gendry is one of my many favouritest characters ever in the process) is fantastic. It also brings an actual sense of suspense to a series where, largely, I know what happens: these characters are different, and stand on their own two feet quite apart from their book counterparts. Because of slight but clever deviations from the source material, I'm genuinely not sure where the whole Theon and Simon from Misfits thing is going, though I have grave (and gruesome) suspicions - likewise Arya and Gendry's jaunt through Sherwood Forest with the Merry Men. Sorry, Brotherhood Without Banners (but really now). All in all, another great episode that displays a consummate skill for storytelling. Is it next week yet?
This week's winner: Argh. I am starting to see the flaw in trying to compare an episodic piece of new writing with a serialisation of familiar source material, but let it never be said that I don't commit to my bad ideas. 'Cold War' was certainly some of Gatiss' best work yet, and a great showcase for Clara, but with some plot and pacing problems. 'Walk of Punishment' wasn't quite as entertaining as last week's episode, but contained some things I've been desperately hanging on to see and some lovely added bonuses too. Really difficult, but I'm going to say 'Cold War' just pips it - we already know Game of Thrones is excellent television but I'm still waiting for it to blow me out the water, whereas Doctor Who reached a rare level of sophistication. Beautiful work on both sides.
*I've just checked and the Guardian's Doctor Who blog has used the exact same comparison minus The Thing, which is a) unsurprising as it's a very good comparison but b) extremely annoying so you'll have to take it on faith that I got there first, and the The Thing reference is all my own work.
**I can only assume his absence from this week's Game of Thrones can be explained by the note he left on Stannis' pillow saying "Gon 2 cptn sub. BRB. Miss u. Davs. xoxo"
***Also a callback to the Christmas episode dialogue on the roof - this is the second occasion that Our Clara has echoed something one of Other Claras has said.
****Totally called that Skaldak's daughter thing, btdubs. In fact, it's what I would have done. I definitely would not have, say, whimpered in a corner and then propositioned Matt Smith in light of our impending deaths.
*****With Pete Campbell. You would definitely watch that gameshow.
Monday 15 April 2013
Saturday 13 April 2013
All the Feelings: 'The Rings of Akhaten' (Doctor Who) and 'Dark Wings, Dark Words' (Game of Thrones) Reviews
Two very different episodes, two very loud cries of fangirlish glee. Television is definitely better than people.
Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 2: The Rings of Akhaten
I'll say it now, there's no way I'm reviewing this episode objectively. It was strongly reminiscent of 2007's 'Gridlock' (David Tennant, kittens), not only in aesthetic terms but in my reaction to it, i.e. I know it was in all honesty not the best but SINGING and THE DOCTOR and A CUTE THING and OVERTLY MESSIANIC SPEECHES and come on now, so many points for trying. I swear to god, I would have teared up if I hadn't been watching with my mum, who has a very low tolerance threshold for sci-fi and fantasy. When I showed her the trailer for The Hobbit, she giggled uncontrollably and asked me what Martin Freeman thought he was doing, to which I huffily replied, "HE'S GOING ON AN ADVENTURE."
Well, I was right about one thing: the episode started with the Doctor delving into Clara's past like a box of delicious chocolates. Presumably no-one has ever told the writers of this show that there are potentially bad connotations to allowing a man whose face is able to twist into seemingly infinite contortions to sit behind a Beano and a pair of NHS specs staring fixedly at young children because Matt Smith + Children = Always Everything Good Ever. Children are a bit of a recurring theme for Moffat, clearly, and not just the "wait here, I'll be back in ten years" trope. If you can talk to children, you're good news in the Whoniverse - in Nicholas Sparks adaptations it's boats, here it's children. (Sorry Mark Kermode, I stole your joke.) On the one hand, it's a way of reminding all of the intensely-gazing mouth-breathers watching (it's only okay when I say it) that this is a children's show and do try not to crash the internet on your way out, but on the other hand it's often written with a knowingness that belies the adult perspective it's being written from and for - I think it's now obligatory for every child that turns up on Doctor Who to Teach The Doctor A Valuable Lesson and Be Very Unimpressed By Him Because Children Are Discerning. I'm thinking more of the mini-prequal Moffat wrote (here) than this episode because, to be fair, the Queen of Years was more straight up creepy.
Speaking of children and growing and changing and whatever other spurious segue I can make here, it was a rite of passage this week, as Clara took her first trip into space. I always wondered why more companions don't go for the 'back in time' option, personally, but then again I've had my first TARDIS trip planned since I was seventeen ("The South Bank 1599, leave off the brakes and I'll tip extra"*). Clara continues to grow on me, with Jenna-Louise Coleman elegantly avoiding the pitfall of choosing between 'smart' and 'kind' and instead showing herself to be extremely adept at both. This bodes badly for the blog, of course, as I am generally only able to convey either extreme rage and/or despair (Amy) and extreme worship and/or lust (River Song). Currently Clara lies somewhere along this axis at a point marked "warm respect". But, y'know, I warmly respect the hell out of her.
So yes, I know the pacing was all wrong and the plot was predictable but it was comfy - it felt, again and at long last, like a proper episode. It had aliens called Doreen and Indiana Jones references and a child in peril and obligatory alien forehead bumps and Matt Smith stood in front of a big orange glowy thing and said things that hit all the right spots** about stories and how we were all forged in the heart of a star and days that will never come being infinite and all that overreaching, grandiose bollocks that shouldn't work but really, really really does. I love Doctor Who most when it forgets that it should just be a funny Saturday tea time show. I love the fact that the people making it so clearly and earnestly believe in its importance, and I love how readily this is accepted by the people that watch it. I love it because it takes everything that just shouldn't work, shoves it into a blender and shrugs majestically when it works, and when it doesn't. Maybe I'm feeling sentimental because the show is approaching its 50th anniversary but it's episodes like this, largely underwhelming yet still able to pull off moments of frankly hubristic grandeur, that prove its uniqueness. All in all, a showcase of the most familiar comforts of Who.
On a similar note, I just watched this trailer for the 50th Anniversary Special comprised of bits of all eleven Doctors and now I'm crying. Crying. Like, actual tears. At a trailer. I fear I may be blind by the end of the real thing.
Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 2: Dark Wings, Dark Words
Because I am cold and heartless, I don't give many fucks about Bran and his Whiny Quest of Leglessness, so it was with a sinking sensation that I watched the opening of this week's episode. However, I am glad to report I had not accounted for several things:
a) Bran has, hilariously, hit puberty in the, er, week between when we last saw him and now.
b) Bran who is, I say again, going through puberty, dreams about his brothers (it's only okay when I do it).
c) Bran also has Jojen Reed turning up in his dreams, missing 'enigmatic' by a country mile and landing squarely on 'fucking smug'. So it's at least faithful to the books, then.
Even better, when Jojen turns up for realsies later on (accompanied by his sister Meera, who is awesome), everything he says sounds like a come-on. "What else did you see?" asks Bran throatily, discussing second sight with his new bro. "The only thing that matters," says Jojen staring into his eyes. "You." That's not fanfiction. That's the script. Who knows, Bran's Whiny Quest of Leglessness Now With Added Homoeroticism may become my favourite part of the series.
Anyway, after a scene with the second least interesting Starks (Robb and Catelyn***), in which the writers desperately try to justify Robb's Wife as a character, there comes the first real thrill of the episode: everyone's favourite odd couple, Jaime "Family First" Lannister**** and Brienne "Of" Tarth. Hi Jaime and Brienne! Hello also to Jamie's accent, which is rejoining us after a brief holiday. It must have been hard for Jaime, growing up as the incongruously Scandinavian Lannister sibling. Gifts of herring every feast day when the others get cloaks and swords and the like. Anyway Jaime's game plan as of this moment seems to be a Westeros variant on "Are we there yet?" leaving poor, put-upon Brienne to shout that so help her, if she has to come back there, she will turn around back to Harrenhal and there will be no sexual tension for anybody. His back up plan seems to be a Westeros variant on "lol u fancied Renly he was gay", but hey, it's working. Just sit back and watch the magic happen.
Joffrey and Cersei next and, worryingly, I think I'm actually starting to enjoy Joffrey's scenes. Then again, he has not yet forced prostitutes to beat each other this series, so there's still time. Essentially, he acts exactly how every teenage king ever would and has acted times a factor of a thousand dicks. Shae counsels Sansa on the wisdom of forming an alliance with a dude who sleeps with a lock of your mother's hair under his pillow. Three seasons in and Sansa's gaydar is still not functional as she starts batting her eyelids at Loras "Rough Trade" Tyrell before being led off to tea with Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother, Diana Rigg. Lady Di is, as always, a treat and I'm very much enjoying Natalie Dormer's scheming, butter-wouldn't-melt Margaery (in all seriousness, one of the things the series does very well is take the non-point of view characters from the books and go "fuck that ambiguity"). The later scene between Joffrey and Margaery is frankly brilliant, as Margaery starts to unpick what poor romantic Sansa never could, i.e. how to control a petulant teenage psychopath with near-absolute political power, using only a crossbow and some cleavage.
Not only did we get Diana Rigg this week but another pleasing addition to the cast in the form of Mackenzie Crooke doing Ambiguous Wildling Animal Magic. One of the strengths of the series (both book and television) is how sparing it is with the magic - so sparing, in fact, that I occasionally forget about it altogether but being reminded by Mackenzie Crooke's nigh-on Lovecraftian features is perfectly acceptable. Anyway, here he is alongside Jon Snow's girlfriend casting yet another withering look in Jon Snow's bewildered direction. Bless, it's not his fault - no-one ever sat him down to explain the birds and the bees, as demonstrated by a long and actually pretty well done scene between Catelyn and Robb's Wife of which the gist was "oh man Jon Snow he ruins everything and basically we're all going to die now". Cut to Jon Snow's lower lip quivering several hundred miles north of there. His Woobie Sense is tingling.
But there's not much time to dwell on Jon Snow and his implausibly tousled hair because ARYA! Damn, girl, where have you been? I've had to sit through, like, five Sansa scenes already. Anyway in her three odd minutes of screen time, Arya manages to be at least thirteen times more awesome than anyone except Tyrion, encountering the Brotherhood Without Banners (apparently some kind of eco-terrorist organisation in this incarnation, led by Paul Kaye, another winning casting choice) without flinching. Well, last season she did make time in her busy schedule of kicking ass and taking names to give to Faceless Men for one on one chats with Tywin Lannister. Speaking of Lannisters, I thought we were a bit Tyrion-light, though as I said last week, we won't be seeing everyone regularly from here on out (no Dany either, surprisingly). HBO has shown stunning good sense thus far in not inflicting on us more time with the Greyjoys than is strictly necessary - just a brief glimpse of Theon being tortured, and given spurious hope by Simon from Misfits, and I don't think anyone will be complaining about that. Anyhow, sneaking in at 37 minutes is Tyrion who manages to be a total boss even when a prostitute is squeezing his face with one hand.
Back to Brienne and Jaime for the final treat, I didn't think we'd get to see them fight so early in the series. It is, as expected, excellently and believably done, in part because Jaime insists on commentating like that one irritating kid playing football at school, in part because Brienne rolls her eyes and advances on him almost casually, only to be stopped by a brace of Boltons looking for Jaime's head. End of episode.
All in all, an extremely satisfying affair. Still not quite the balls-to-the-wall-awesome I'm waiting for but it's early days yet. Like the series opener, there was a lot to set up, new characters to introduce, etc but there were also enough returning favourites (Brienne, Meera, ARYA) and unfavourites made palatable (Bran) that I enjoyed it start to finish. The plotlines were juggled beautifully, the scene shifts were seamless, the dialogue was as (nay, more) impressive than the action and the performances were pretty flawless. Keep it up, Game of Thrones, this is frighteningly good stuff.
This week's winner: Game of Thrones. It was tough one because 'The Rings of Akhaten' had me feeling all the feelings there ever were, but I know in my heart it was a ropey episode with a few good set pieces. 'Dark Wings, Dark Words', on the other hand, had accelerated enough to be consistently excellent all the way through with its series of odd-couples, and, with all of the players now in place, marks the recommencing of the game fo' srs. Makes you just want a grab and sword and kill something, really.
*I am aware that Martha Jones has somewhat stolen my thunder on this one, but I do an excellent impression of someone who doesn't know that Martha Jones ever existed. The main difference is that they're smiling.
** I meant emotional spots, you perverts.
***This is unfair. I forget Sansa.
****I toyed with Jaime "I'll Slay Your King" Lannister, but it's really hard to communicate the subtle intonation of the innuendo over the internet.
Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 2: The Rings of Akhaten
I'll say it now, there's no way I'm reviewing this episode objectively. It was strongly reminiscent of 2007's 'Gridlock' (David Tennant, kittens), not only in aesthetic terms but in my reaction to it, i.e. I know it was in all honesty not the best but SINGING and THE DOCTOR and A CUTE THING and OVERTLY MESSIANIC SPEECHES and come on now, so many points for trying. I swear to god, I would have teared up if I hadn't been watching with my mum, who has a very low tolerance threshold for sci-fi and fantasy. When I showed her the trailer for The Hobbit, she giggled uncontrollably and asked me what Martin Freeman thought he was doing, to which I huffily replied, "HE'S GOING ON AN ADVENTURE."
Well, I was right about one thing: the episode started with the Doctor delving into Clara's past like a box of delicious chocolates. Presumably no-one has ever told the writers of this show that there are potentially bad connotations to allowing a man whose face is able to twist into seemingly infinite contortions to sit behind a Beano and a pair of NHS specs staring fixedly at young children because Matt Smith + Children = Always Everything Good Ever. Children are a bit of a recurring theme for Moffat, clearly, and not just the "wait here, I'll be back in ten years" trope. If you can talk to children, you're good news in the Whoniverse - in Nicholas Sparks adaptations it's boats, here it's children. (Sorry Mark Kermode, I stole your joke.) On the one hand, it's a way of reminding all of the intensely-gazing mouth-breathers watching (it's only okay when I say it) that this is a children's show and do try not to crash the internet on your way out, but on the other hand it's often written with a knowingness that belies the adult perspective it's being written from and for - I think it's now obligatory for every child that turns up on Doctor Who to Teach The Doctor A Valuable Lesson and Be Very Unimpressed By Him Because Children Are Discerning. I'm thinking more of the mini-prequal Moffat wrote (here) than this episode because, to be fair, the Queen of Years was more straight up creepy.
Speaking of children and growing and changing and whatever other spurious segue I can make here, it was a rite of passage this week, as Clara took her first trip into space. I always wondered why more companions don't go for the 'back in time' option, personally, but then again I've had my first TARDIS trip planned since I was seventeen ("The South Bank 1599, leave off the brakes and I'll tip extra"*). Clara continues to grow on me, with Jenna-Louise Coleman elegantly avoiding the pitfall of choosing between 'smart' and 'kind' and instead showing herself to be extremely adept at both. This bodes badly for the blog, of course, as I am generally only able to convey either extreme rage and/or despair (Amy) and extreme worship and/or lust (River Song). Currently Clara lies somewhere along this axis at a point marked "warm respect". But, y'know, I warmly respect the hell out of her.
So yes, I know the pacing was all wrong and the plot was predictable but it was comfy - it felt, again and at long last, like a proper episode. It had aliens called Doreen and Indiana Jones references and a child in peril and obligatory alien forehead bumps and Matt Smith stood in front of a big orange glowy thing and said things that hit all the right spots** about stories and how we were all forged in the heart of a star and days that will never come being infinite and all that overreaching, grandiose bollocks that shouldn't work but really, really really does. I love Doctor Who most when it forgets that it should just be a funny Saturday tea time show. I love the fact that the people making it so clearly and earnestly believe in its importance, and I love how readily this is accepted by the people that watch it. I love it because it takes everything that just shouldn't work, shoves it into a blender and shrugs majestically when it works, and when it doesn't. Maybe I'm feeling sentimental because the show is approaching its 50th anniversary but it's episodes like this, largely underwhelming yet still able to pull off moments of frankly hubristic grandeur, that prove its uniqueness. All in all, a showcase of the most familiar comforts of Who.
On a similar note, I just watched this trailer for the 50th Anniversary Special comprised of bits of all eleven Doctors and now I'm crying. Crying. Like, actual tears. At a trailer. I fear I may be blind by the end of the real thing.
Game of Thrones Series 3, Episode 2: Dark Wings, Dark Words
Because I am cold and heartless, I don't give many fucks about Bran and his Whiny Quest of Leglessness, so it was with a sinking sensation that I watched the opening of this week's episode. However, I am glad to report I had not accounted for several things:
a) Bran has, hilariously, hit puberty in the, er, week between when we last saw him and now.
b) Bran who is, I say again, going through puberty, dreams about his brothers (it's only okay when I do it).
c) Bran also has Jojen Reed turning up in his dreams, missing 'enigmatic' by a country mile and landing squarely on 'fucking smug'. So it's at least faithful to the books, then.
Even better, when Jojen turns up for realsies later on (accompanied by his sister Meera, who is awesome), everything he says sounds like a come-on. "What else did you see?" asks Bran throatily, discussing second sight with his new bro. "The only thing that matters," says Jojen staring into his eyes. "You." That's not fanfiction. That's the script. Who knows, Bran's Whiny Quest of Leglessness Now With Added Homoeroticism may become my favourite part of the series.
Anyway, after a scene with the second least interesting Starks (Robb and Catelyn***), in which the writers desperately try to justify Robb's Wife as a character, there comes the first real thrill of the episode: everyone's favourite odd couple, Jaime "Family First" Lannister**** and Brienne "Of" Tarth. Hi Jaime and Brienne! Hello also to Jamie's accent, which is rejoining us after a brief holiday. It must have been hard for Jaime, growing up as the incongruously Scandinavian Lannister sibling. Gifts of herring every feast day when the others get cloaks and swords and the like. Anyway Jaime's game plan as of this moment seems to be a Westeros variant on "Are we there yet?" leaving poor, put-upon Brienne to shout that so help her, if she has to come back there, she will turn around back to Harrenhal and there will be no sexual tension for anybody. His back up plan seems to be a Westeros variant on "lol u fancied Renly he was gay", but hey, it's working. Just sit back and watch the magic happen.
Joffrey and Cersei next and, worryingly, I think I'm actually starting to enjoy Joffrey's scenes. Then again, he has not yet forced prostitutes to beat each other this series, so there's still time. Essentially, he acts exactly how every teenage king ever would and has acted times a factor of a thousand dicks. Shae counsels Sansa on the wisdom of forming an alliance with a dude who sleeps with a lock of your mother's hair under his pillow. Three seasons in and Sansa's gaydar is still not functional as she starts batting her eyelids at Loras "Rough Trade" Tyrell before being led off to tea with Margaery Tyrell and her grandmother, Diana Rigg. Lady Di is, as always, a treat and I'm very much enjoying Natalie Dormer's scheming, butter-wouldn't-melt Margaery (in all seriousness, one of the things the series does very well is take the non-point of view characters from the books and go "fuck that ambiguity"). The later scene between Joffrey and Margaery is frankly brilliant, as Margaery starts to unpick what poor romantic Sansa never could, i.e. how to control a petulant teenage psychopath with near-absolute political power, using only a crossbow and some cleavage.
Not only did we get Diana Rigg this week but another pleasing addition to the cast in the form of Mackenzie Crooke doing Ambiguous Wildling Animal Magic. One of the strengths of the series (both book and television) is how sparing it is with the magic - so sparing, in fact, that I occasionally forget about it altogether but being reminded by Mackenzie Crooke's nigh-on Lovecraftian features is perfectly acceptable. Anyway, here he is alongside Jon Snow's girlfriend casting yet another withering look in Jon Snow's bewildered direction. Bless, it's not his fault - no-one ever sat him down to explain the birds and the bees, as demonstrated by a long and actually pretty well done scene between Catelyn and Robb's Wife of which the gist was "oh man Jon Snow he ruins everything and basically we're all going to die now". Cut to Jon Snow's lower lip quivering several hundred miles north of there. His Woobie Sense is tingling.
But there's not much time to dwell on Jon Snow and his implausibly tousled hair because ARYA! Damn, girl, where have you been? I've had to sit through, like, five Sansa scenes already. Anyway in her three odd minutes of screen time, Arya manages to be at least thirteen times more awesome than anyone except Tyrion, encountering the Brotherhood Without Banners (apparently some kind of eco-terrorist organisation in this incarnation, led by Paul Kaye, another winning casting choice) without flinching. Well, last season she did make time in her busy schedule of kicking ass and taking names to give to Faceless Men for one on one chats with Tywin Lannister. Speaking of Lannisters, I thought we were a bit Tyrion-light, though as I said last week, we won't be seeing everyone regularly from here on out (no Dany either, surprisingly). HBO has shown stunning good sense thus far in not inflicting on us more time with the Greyjoys than is strictly necessary - just a brief glimpse of Theon being tortured, and given spurious hope by Simon from Misfits, and I don't think anyone will be complaining about that. Anyhow, sneaking in at 37 minutes is Tyrion who manages to be a total boss even when a prostitute is squeezing his face with one hand.
Back to Brienne and Jaime for the final treat, I didn't think we'd get to see them fight so early in the series. It is, as expected, excellently and believably done, in part because Jaime insists on commentating like that one irritating kid playing football at school, in part because Brienne rolls her eyes and advances on him almost casually, only to be stopped by a brace of Boltons looking for Jaime's head. End of episode.
All in all, an extremely satisfying affair. Still not quite the balls-to-the-wall-awesome I'm waiting for but it's early days yet. Like the series opener, there was a lot to set up, new characters to introduce, etc but there were also enough returning favourites (Brienne, Meera, ARYA) and unfavourites made palatable (Bran) that I enjoyed it start to finish. The plotlines were juggled beautifully, the scene shifts were seamless, the dialogue was as (nay, more) impressive than the action and the performances were pretty flawless. Keep it up, Game of Thrones, this is frighteningly good stuff.
This week's winner: Game of Thrones. It was tough one because 'The Rings of Akhaten' had me feeling all the feelings there ever were, but I know in my heart it was a ropey episode with a few good set pieces. 'Dark Wings, Dark Words', on the other hand, had accelerated enough to be consistently excellent all the way through with its series of odd-couples, and, with all of the players now in place, marks the recommencing of the game fo' srs. Makes you just want a grab and sword and kill something, really.
*I am aware that Martha Jones has somewhat stolen my thunder on this one, but I do an excellent impression of someone who doesn't know that Martha Jones ever existed. The main difference is that they're smiling.
** I meant emotional spots, you perverts.
***This is unfair. I forget Sansa.
****I toyed with Jaime "I'll Slay Your King" Lannister, but it's really hard to communicate the subtle intonation of the innuendo over the internet.
Tuesday 2 April 2013
From Small Beginnings: 'The Bells of St John' and 'Valar Dohaeris' Reviews
For absolutely no discernible reason other than that I misplaced my last bit of social shame the other week and am now gunning for the title 'Queen of the Nerds' with terrifying sincerity, I'm going to be reviewing Doctor Who and Game of Thrones alongside each other every week for the next ten weeks in order to settle the age old question that literally tens of productive members of society have asked: sci-fi or fantasy? Well, how else to celebrate the fact that Easter weekend has clearly won at television and all other personified calendar dates should just go home? (Spoilers, obvz, though I'll keep book spoilers for GoT to a minimum.)
Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1: The Bells of St John
I immediately want to dock points here because 'Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1'? It's a show about a man in a box. Let's not get above ourselves.
Having said that, I watched this episode in a state of apprehensive terror, waiting for the remarkably non-power-mad Moffat-penned episode unfolding in front of me to devolve into the kind of nonsensical grandiose ridiculousness we've come to expect over the last year (the major moment of self-indulgence was that "eleven is the best" line, to which I say Steven, no-one likes a significant other who is jealous of the ex. We got over Tennant ages ago*). It's a remarkable relief to see the Grand High Moff exhibiting some signs of self-restraint, although also slightly worrying. I do hope he isn't ill. Factor in new companion Clara's posh-totty-ness and it's nothing short of a miracle. It is not, of course, Clara's first appearance after her surprise drop-in in 'Asylum of the Daleks' as Quirky Dalek Oswin (good twist but wouldn't have wanted to sit next to her at dinner, and not really because of the dalek bit) and reincarnation as Victorian governess in the Christmas special who dies tragically of falling off a roof. I decided to reserve judgement until such time as Clara appeared as neither a dalek nor a Victorian, and on balance I think I was right to because I found her much more palatable this lifetime round. Stripped of eye stalks and corsets, she was even - dare I say it - likeable. There's an obvious reason why, of course, and it's that some unsung hero at the BBC finally plucked up the courage to tell Moffat that television is traditionally a visual medium and thus the audience does not need to be reminded every goddamn minute that characters are attractive and/or special and/or attractive (again) when they can see that through the magical moving pictures on the wizardry box. And to you, sir or madam, we are eternally grateful.
I do miss the days when companions were...y'know, ordinary, though. I'm referring not just to Clara "Or Am I?" Oswald but also Amy "Rebooted That Universe You're Standing In" Pond and even Donna "Fused With David Tennant, Jealous Much" Noble and Rose "May Become Overly Messianic Upon Return" Tyler. Personally, I don't need my companions to have anything 'special' about them at all, they don't need to be the most important person in the universe upon whom all our fates depend for me to want to spend cathode-ray time with them (I fully expect them to save the world at some point, but through pluck and grit and stiff upper lips, eh what). How else are we supposed to use them as helpful self-insert fantasy sock puppets if we ourselves are not possessed of mysterious time/personality-skipping powers? I do wonder if it's because Moffat, in this extraordinary streak of self-awareness, has realised that character-based drama is not exactly his forte; while in possession of a formidable skill set by way of taking ordinary things and making them the font of untold terrors, doing head-hurty things with time and smuggling inappropriate one-liners past the censors, I don't think he would or could create a Series 2-era Rose, for example (his attempt turned out Madame du Pompadour who, whilst possessed of many virtues, could not count 'everywoman charm' amongst them). I think it's possible that all these mystery superhero companions are supplementing a nagging insecurity that his 'normal' characters might be...well, boring. Which is sort of sweet really.
And Clara certainly has a metric fuckton of mystery to be going on with. I'm a little bit worried that Moffat is trying to retcon River Song given that thus far Clara is a flirty time traveller with multiple personalities whose timeline appears to be about as organised as the programmers in charge of making George Osborne look human (you're not the only one who can do social satire, Stephen "we can't always pass it off as a riot" Moffat). I took that "time to find out who you are" line to mean that we'd be seeing a lot more of present-day Clara in the wrong order (along with all those tantalising hints about that leaf being 'Page 1', have we found Clara's equivalent of River's Big Blue Book of Spoilers?) and the Doctor is exactly the kind of 900 year old loveable eccentric who wouldn't consider delving into one's childhood as an invasion of privacy (or is he 1000 now? Would have loved to see that party). We're already seeing the 'Asylum of the Daleks' character coming together, what with the origins of 'Oswin' and her convenient hacking skills (I love television's persistent fiction that touch-typing is somehow a convincing indication of computer genius). I'd love the woman in the shop who gave Clara the number for the TARDIS to be River, rather than some parallel universe/future Clara herself or, indeed, her own daughter, but I don't want to sound like I'm ungrateful.
Amongst other possible trademark Moffat throwaway moments that will come back to bite, any, all or none of the following could be significant: that book by Amelia Williams - a last nod to Amy, apparently doomed to spend a lifetime in a hotel room with her husband and choosing to spend it writing slightly twee looking children's novels or something bigger? The spoonhead under the streetlamp before Clara gets in the TARDIS (sorry, snog box) for the first time - couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't appear to be either a character we'd met before or the Doctor, so given that they apparently take their form from the subconscious of the victim, who exactly has Clara been thinking about? One possible candidate is her dad, who we got a fleeting mention of; I took it to mean the dad of the family she was looking after, but on re-watch all the stuff the Doctor says about him being annoyed at the government in his phone message suggests otherwise - together with the reintroduction of UNIT at the end, I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of Brigadier Mk 2. I thought the Big Bad was going to be Cybermen, given that Neil Gaiman is signed on to do an episode about everyone's favourite tin men with the brief to "make them scary" (I'm stocking up on cushions already) but instead we got a surprise appearance by Richard E Grant's floating head. I'm still not convinced the 'Great Intelligence' isn't somehow linked to the Cybermen anyway - stealing people's psyches via the internet seems very like them, as well as providing a useful analogy for what this show does to its more invested fans.
So all in all, I am tentatively and lip-bitingly optimistic about the season ahead. Perhaps it bespeaks low expectations when one is congratulating a primetime BBC family show for not being overtly sexist but that is the world we live in now. Well, there was that incident with the monk blessing himself because of "a woman" but I've been watching The Pillars of the Earth and monks getting circumspect about ladyfolk and their ways is par for the course right now. More importantly, it achieved what hasn't been the case for a good long while now and actually felt like an episode of Doctor Who: it had silly jokes about customer support helplines and the Doctor inventing the quadrocycle and a national treasure (Celia Imrie doing more acting her final scene than Karen Gillan did in three years) and the obligatory section I like to call 'Matt Smith is an Actual Alien Actually' which is just him touching things with his definitely non-human hands and I got to say things like "he just rode a motorbike up The Shard" to relatives late to the living room and it felt sort of safe to be excited about it again. It's the show's fiftieth anniversary this year, after all - it would be a pretty bad year for Doctor Who not to celebrate all its greatest attributes and, indeed, its greatest flaws. Welcome back, Doctor. For two things that technically don't exist, this blog didn't half miss you.
Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 1: Valar Dohaeris
I didn't really enjoy Season 2 of Game of Thrones, largely because I all but pulped the books and drank them as a delicious woody smoothie after Season 1 in order to get ahead of the storyline. I failed, of course, to anticipate quite how much storyline there is in Westeros and beyond and by the time Season 2 rolled round I was staring dementedly at the screen going, "You're still alive?" and "Why are you in King's Landing when you should be crossing the spoiler in order to spoilerspoiler?"and, as always, "Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?" I put this down to the fact that A Clash of Kings, upon which Season 2 was based, is not the best book in the series. Hardly any of them are the best book in the series, in fact, except for A Storm of Swords upon which Seasons 3 and 4 will be based and THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST THING EVER, YOU GUYS.
After the excitement of the Battle of the Blackwater at the end of last series, I was more psyched about what this episode promised later in the series than what it delivered on the day. It was a setting up episode, checking in with our main characters to see who was dead and/or raped and/or deformed, and who'd been really unlucky. With an ever expanding cast ("Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?") I doubt we'll be seeing everyone each week from here on out, possibly excepting the Tyrion-Dany-Jon Triumvirate of Angsty Awesomeness. I thought the series opener chose well though, despite lack of Arya because there can always be more Arya, and more importantly was completely Branless and Greyjoyless because, and I cannot reiterate this enough, no-one cares about the Greyjoys. I would also comment further about the lack of Brienne and Jaime but I genuinely cannot remember where Jaime is supposed to be in his Great Redemptive Arc at this point in the series and thus it is probable that when he does appear, he'll still be everyone's favourite incestuous hipster knight ("I was killing kings before it was cool.")
So here's Sam Tarly puffing along to confront us all with our own suspicions about how we would fare in a world where Sean Bean can die so easily**. Here's Davos chilling on his rock before coming face to face once more with awkward ex-boyfriend Stannis and his new lady friend Melisandre (the sexual tension proves too much for Stannis to handle and he sends Davos off to the cells while he rethinks his sexuality again). Here's Margery Tyrell doing a Princess Di that is both delightfully loathsome in its own right and causes Lena Headey's yummy queen mummy Cersei to go reaching for the mead in a way that makes me lament how utterly disappointing book!Cersei is in comparison. Here's Sansa refusing heroically to display any character development*** while Shae stares at her with a horror usually reserved for small children crawling determinedly towards naked plug sockets. Here's Ros stealing more screen time from characters anyone actually gives a shit about**** while Littlefinger strides smarmily around cementing his position as the Pete Campbell of Westeros (and not unlike Pete Campbell, there's a dark part of my psyche that wants him to end up running the shop, and an even darker part that wants to see him cry like a smacked child). Here's Robb and his non-canonical bride riding around the North, being King in the North and generally saying "North" a lot before locking up his mother for telling him to tidy up his smoking ruins of Harrenhal (she also let Jaime Lannister go free which as a method for getting revenge lacks some forethought). Here's Peter Dinklage as Tyrion managing to be at least seventy two times better than you will ever be at anything, coming together with Charles "I fucked Ripley" Dance to give dysfunctional families a bad (good?) name. Here's Danaerys friendzoning Ser Jorah like a pro and buying up an army of baby-killing slaves after feeling bad for a good six minutes (I presume this is the Westeros equivalent of buying non-free range eggs but feeling really guilty about it). Best of all, here's Jon Snow to look hilariously pained every time Ygritte makes an obvious pass at him and he remembers the whole no hanky-panky side of the Night's Watch deal he signed up for while I shriek Arrested Development-style "I've made a huge mistake"s at the television in his honour.
Oh, it's just all so...Game of Thrones-y. It's almost comforting, all the nudity and killing and snow zombies and casual mutilation. Something familiar in a crazy world. Maybe not the most pulse-pounding episode there's ever been but they've got a lot to get through this season and I think they've hit the ground running. If you haven't read the books, you're in for a treat. If you have, you're possibly in for even more of a treat as we embark together on the journey of finding out if GRR Martin has left us any more tears to cry. Still, you know it's nippy for the time of year when you're watching scenes set beyond the Wall going, "Ooh, that looks temperate." Winter is coming? You lucky bastards.
This Week's Winner: The Bells of St John pips it. Valar Dohaeris is a solid episode full of returning favourites but is essentially a slow burner laying the groundwork for bloody, sexposition-fuelled times ahead. Bells, while less than perfect, hints tantalisingly that Doctor Who may be on the verge of a - I can't believe I'm about to write this - regeneration. And that's a finger-flexing-for-all-the-speculative-blog-writing-ly good prospect to risk getting excited about.
*Although then I saw this and my womb exploded. Consider it the nation's drunken text message to the ex.
**Oh wait.
***Sansa in the books is one of those characters that divides opinion into "how is she still alive?" and "she's playing the long game". Since the latter view requires a similar skill-set to determining that the moon landings were faked, I'm in the former camp. I still wouldn't mind this on the show if Sansa's actress could...y'know, act, but sometimes I ask too much of television.
****I actually don't hate Ros, but this is the internet. When you play the Game of Blogs, you rage or you squee.
Doctor Who Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1: The Bells of St John
I immediately want to dock points here because 'Series 7, Part 2, Episode 1'? It's a show about a man in a box. Let's not get above ourselves.
Having said that, I watched this episode in a state of apprehensive terror, waiting for the remarkably non-power-mad Moffat-penned episode unfolding in front of me to devolve into the kind of nonsensical grandiose ridiculousness we've come to expect over the last year (the major moment of self-indulgence was that "eleven is the best" line, to which I say Steven, no-one likes a significant other who is jealous of the ex. We got over Tennant ages ago*). It's a remarkable relief to see the Grand High Moff exhibiting some signs of self-restraint, although also slightly worrying. I do hope he isn't ill. Factor in new companion Clara's posh-totty-ness and it's nothing short of a miracle. It is not, of course, Clara's first appearance after her surprise drop-in in 'Asylum of the Daleks' as Quirky Dalek Oswin (good twist but wouldn't have wanted to sit next to her at dinner, and not really because of the dalek bit) and reincarnation as Victorian governess in the Christmas special who dies tragically of falling off a roof. I decided to reserve judgement until such time as Clara appeared as neither a dalek nor a Victorian, and on balance I think I was right to because I found her much more palatable this lifetime round. Stripped of eye stalks and corsets, she was even - dare I say it - likeable. There's an obvious reason why, of course, and it's that some unsung hero at the BBC finally plucked up the courage to tell Moffat that television is traditionally a visual medium and thus the audience does not need to be reminded every goddamn minute that characters are attractive and/or special and/or attractive (again) when they can see that through the magical moving pictures on the wizardry box. And to you, sir or madam, we are eternally grateful.
I do miss the days when companions were...y'know, ordinary, though. I'm referring not just to Clara "Or Am I?" Oswald but also Amy "Rebooted That Universe You're Standing In" Pond and even Donna "Fused With David Tennant, Jealous Much" Noble and Rose "May Become Overly Messianic Upon Return" Tyler. Personally, I don't need my companions to have anything 'special' about them at all, they don't need to be the most important person in the universe upon whom all our fates depend for me to want to spend cathode-ray time with them (I fully expect them to save the world at some point, but through pluck and grit and stiff upper lips, eh what). How else are we supposed to use them as helpful self-insert fantasy sock puppets if we ourselves are not possessed of mysterious time/personality-skipping powers? I do wonder if it's because Moffat, in this extraordinary streak of self-awareness, has realised that character-based drama is not exactly his forte; while in possession of a formidable skill set by way of taking ordinary things and making them the font of untold terrors, doing head-hurty things with time and smuggling inappropriate one-liners past the censors, I don't think he would or could create a Series 2-era Rose, for example (his attempt turned out Madame du Pompadour who, whilst possessed of many virtues, could not count 'everywoman charm' amongst them). I think it's possible that all these mystery superhero companions are supplementing a nagging insecurity that his 'normal' characters might be...well, boring. Which is sort of sweet really.
And Clara certainly has a metric fuckton of mystery to be going on with. I'm a little bit worried that Moffat is trying to retcon River Song given that thus far Clara is a flirty time traveller with multiple personalities whose timeline appears to be about as organised as the programmers in charge of making George Osborne look human (you're not the only one who can do social satire, Stephen "we can't always pass it off as a riot" Moffat). I took that "time to find out who you are" line to mean that we'd be seeing a lot more of present-day Clara in the wrong order (along with all those tantalising hints about that leaf being 'Page 1', have we found Clara's equivalent of River's Big Blue Book of Spoilers?) and the Doctor is exactly the kind of 900 year old loveable eccentric who wouldn't consider delving into one's childhood as an invasion of privacy (or is he 1000 now? Would have loved to see that party). We're already seeing the 'Asylum of the Daleks' character coming together, what with the origins of 'Oswin' and her convenient hacking skills (I love television's persistent fiction that touch-typing is somehow a convincing indication of computer genius). I'd love the woman in the shop who gave Clara the number for the TARDIS to be River, rather than some parallel universe/future Clara herself or, indeed, her own daughter, but I don't want to sound like I'm ungrateful.
Amongst other possible trademark Moffat throwaway moments that will come back to bite, any, all or none of the following could be significant: that book by Amelia Williams - a last nod to Amy, apparently doomed to spend a lifetime in a hotel room with her husband and choosing to spend it writing slightly twee looking children's novels or something bigger? The spoonhead under the streetlamp before Clara gets in the TARDIS (sorry, snog box) for the first time - couldn't tell who it was, but it didn't appear to be either a character we'd met before or the Doctor, so given that they apparently take their form from the subconscious of the victim, who exactly has Clara been thinking about? One possible candidate is her dad, who we got a fleeting mention of; I took it to mean the dad of the family she was looking after, but on re-watch all the stuff the Doctor says about him being annoyed at the government in his phone message suggests otherwise - together with the reintroduction of UNIT at the end, I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of Brigadier Mk 2. I thought the Big Bad was going to be Cybermen, given that Neil Gaiman is signed on to do an episode about everyone's favourite tin men with the brief to "make them scary" (I'm stocking up on cushions already) but instead we got a surprise appearance by Richard E Grant's floating head. I'm still not convinced the 'Great Intelligence' isn't somehow linked to the Cybermen anyway - stealing people's psyches via the internet seems very like them, as well as providing a useful analogy for what this show does to its more invested fans.
So all in all, I am tentatively and lip-bitingly optimistic about the season ahead. Perhaps it bespeaks low expectations when one is congratulating a primetime BBC family show for not being overtly sexist but that is the world we live in now. Well, there was that incident with the monk blessing himself because of "a woman" but I've been watching The Pillars of the Earth and monks getting circumspect about ladyfolk and their ways is par for the course right now. More importantly, it achieved what hasn't been the case for a good long while now and actually felt like an episode of Doctor Who: it had silly jokes about customer support helplines and the Doctor inventing the quadrocycle and a national treasure (Celia Imrie doing more acting her final scene than Karen Gillan did in three years) and the obligatory section I like to call 'Matt Smith is an Actual Alien Actually' which is just him touching things with his definitely non-human hands and I got to say things like "he just rode a motorbike up The Shard" to relatives late to the living room and it felt sort of safe to be excited about it again. It's the show's fiftieth anniversary this year, after all - it would be a pretty bad year for Doctor Who not to celebrate all its greatest attributes and, indeed, its greatest flaws. Welcome back, Doctor. For two things that technically don't exist, this blog didn't half miss you.
Game of Thrones Season 3, Episode 1: Valar Dohaeris
I didn't really enjoy Season 2 of Game of Thrones, largely because I all but pulped the books and drank them as a delicious woody smoothie after Season 1 in order to get ahead of the storyline. I failed, of course, to anticipate quite how much storyline there is in Westeros and beyond and by the time Season 2 rolled round I was staring dementedly at the screen going, "You're still alive?" and "Why are you in King's Landing when you should be crossing the spoiler in order to spoilerspoiler?"and, as always, "Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?" I put this down to the fact that A Clash of Kings, upon which Season 2 was based, is not the best book in the series. Hardly any of them are the best book in the series, in fact, except for A Storm of Swords upon which Seasons 3 and 4 will be based and THIS IS GOING TO BE THE BEST THING EVER, YOU GUYS.
After the excitement of the Battle of the Blackwater at the end of last series, I was more psyched about what this episode promised later in the series than what it delivered on the day. It was a setting up episode, checking in with our main characters to see who was dead and/or raped and/or deformed, and who'd been really unlucky. With an ever expanding cast ("Who the fuck is Arthur Dayne?") I doubt we'll be seeing everyone each week from here on out, possibly excepting the Tyrion-Dany-Jon Triumvirate of Angsty Awesomeness. I thought the series opener chose well though, despite lack of Arya because there can always be more Arya, and more importantly was completely Branless and Greyjoyless because, and I cannot reiterate this enough, no-one cares about the Greyjoys. I would also comment further about the lack of Brienne and Jaime but I genuinely cannot remember where Jaime is supposed to be in his Great Redemptive Arc at this point in the series and thus it is probable that when he does appear, he'll still be everyone's favourite incestuous hipster knight ("I was killing kings before it was cool.")
So here's Sam Tarly puffing along to confront us all with our own suspicions about how we would fare in a world where Sean Bean can die so easily**. Here's Davos chilling on his rock before coming face to face once more with awkward ex-boyfriend Stannis and his new lady friend Melisandre (the sexual tension proves too much for Stannis to handle and he sends Davos off to the cells while he rethinks his sexuality again). Here's Margery Tyrell doing a Princess Di that is both delightfully loathsome in its own right and causes Lena Headey's yummy queen mummy Cersei to go reaching for the mead in a way that makes me lament how utterly disappointing book!Cersei is in comparison. Here's Sansa refusing heroically to display any character development*** while Shae stares at her with a horror usually reserved for small children crawling determinedly towards naked plug sockets. Here's Ros stealing more screen time from characters anyone actually gives a shit about**** while Littlefinger strides smarmily around cementing his position as the Pete Campbell of Westeros (and not unlike Pete Campbell, there's a dark part of my psyche that wants him to end up running the shop, and an even darker part that wants to see him cry like a smacked child). Here's Robb and his non-canonical bride riding around the North, being King in the North and generally saying "North" a lot before locking up his mother for telling him to tidy up his smoking ruins of Harrenhal (she also let Jaime Lannister go free which as a method for getting revenge lacks some forethought). Here's Peter Dinklage as Tyrion managing to be at least seventy two times better than you will ever be at anything, coming together with Charles "I fucked Ripley" Dance to give dysfunctional families a bad (good?) name. Here's Danaerys friendzoning Ser Jorah like a pro and buying up an army of baby-killing slaves after feeling bad for a good six minutes (I presume this is the Westeros equivalent of buying non-free range eggs but feeling really guilty about it). Best of all, here's Jon Snow to look hilariously pained every time Ygritte makes an obvious pass at him and he remembers the whole no hanky-panky side of the Night's Watch deal he signed up for while I shriek Arrested Development-style "I've made a huge mistake"s at the television in his honour.
Oh, it's just all so...Game of Thrones-y. It's almost comforting, all the nudity and killing and snow zombies and casual mutilation. Something familiar in a crazy world. Maybe not the most pulse-pounding episode there's ever been but they've got a lot to get through this season and I think they've hit the ground running. If you haven't read the books, you're in for a treat. If you have, you're possibly in for even more of a treat as we embark together on the journey of finding out if GRR Martin has left us any more tears to cry. Still, you know it's nippy for the time of year when you're watching scenes set beyond the Wall going, "Ooh, that looks temperate." Winter is coming? You lucky bastards.
This Week's Winner: The Bells of St John pips it. Valar Dohaeris is a solid episode full of returning favourites but is essentially a slow burner laying the groundwork for bloody, sexposition-fuelled times ahead. Bells, while less than perfect, hints tantalisingly that Doctor Who may be on the verge of a - I can't believe I'm about to write this - regeneration. And that's a finger-flexing-for-all-the-speculative-blog-writing-ly good prospect to risk getting excited about.
*Although then I saw this and my womb exploded. Consider it the nation's drunken text message to the ex.
**Oh wait.
***Sansa in the books is one of those characters that divides opinion into "how is she still alive?" and "she's playing the long game". Since the latter view requires a similar skill-set to determining that the moon landings were faked, I'm in the former camp. I still wouldn't mind this on the show if Sansa's actress could...y'know, act, but sometimes I ask too much of television.
****I actually don't hate Ros, but this is the internet. When you play the Game of Blogs, you rage or you squee.
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