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.
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