A Pop-Cultural Confession

I love bad TV. And bad films. And bad books. And bad songs. And bad sandwiches. No, wait.

Actually, I love a certain type of bad TV/film/literature/music. When you say "bad TV", you probably think of My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding or Take Me Out or my sister's latest favourite, some show with an awfully punning name that I can't remember where gay man have to sprint back into the closet for money by fooling a heterosexual woman into having feelings for them. I think it's called "Where Taste Goes to Die".* But these are artlessly bad telly. They know what they are. They make no pretensions to greatness, and thus are curiously humourless - despite their abundance of ribaldry and 70s era Brighton postcard naughtiness. I'm talking about the programmes that are preposterous. Absurd. Almost surreally bad. So much so that you're sure someone is wiping away tears of mirth behind the camera at the expense of the poor saps who actually pay the licence fee. If this was America, I'd say these are the programmes knocked out between the hours of the 11am cocaine break and 11.38am when it's time to take an early lunch and also more cocaine. Being Britain, it's more likely that these are the shows knocked out between a nice cup of tea and a biccy at 4.30 in the afternoon and weeping over your BA in Arts History at 5.15.

My criteria for detecting such shows (and films and books) is simple. If, at any point, I lean back in my chair, pull my (sometimes real, sometimes imaginary) glasses down my nose, chortle and say firmly "SILLY", it's a winner. Sometimes good shows have "SILLY" moments. Sometimes they have entire episodes of "SILLY". Being Human falls prey to this more than I'd like. Doctor Who too, especially in the Russell T Davies era. That episode with Agatha Christie and the giant wasp. I'd say that on paper they thought it sounded charming and off-beat but I've just typed it out here and it sounds like a parody of a Doctor Who episode. And a better parody than that Lenny Henry one with the Margaret Thatcher dalek. Saying that Maggie Thatcher is a life-destroying emotionless ooze encased inside a metal outer shell constructed by supremacist masters isn't satire, it's just fact.

Sorry, think I got some politics in your pop culture, there.

As I said, there's a difference between SILLY television/film/etc and downright bad stuff. There's the bad stuff like Take Me Out (upon my first viewing, I was reminded of a line from Jane Austen**: "Man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal." If the premise of your show aligns with the sexual politics of the late 18th century, you need to take a long hard look in the mirror). It's joyless. It's crass. It's (incoming snob alert) Lowest Common Denominator television. I'm aware that many watch Take Me Out et al because they find it hideously compelling, sort of like driving past a car crash on the motorway. I get this. I'm on board with this. And the game show format means you can catch the occasional episode here and there and not feel hideously guilty.

I differ in that I watch whole series that I think are badly written, acted and filmed. I follow the plot. I root for the characters. I decide it would be better if x happened to y instead of z. People are - understandably - puzzled by this. I don't advocate this relationship with the gogglebox: it's terribly unhealthy and please let us remember I am a terrible freak of nature and my mother should probably never have let me out of the attic. "But why?" People ask me. (In my head. Nobody actually cares about what I watch on TV.) "Why spend so much energy on shows you don't even like?"

Oh-ho, I say. Shows that are bad, yes. Shows I don't like? No, no, no. Merlin. The Tudors. Whitechapel. These are my crack. Silly, silly shows full of ridiculous dialogue, flimsy premises, unbelievable plot twists (yes, even in Merlin where they can explain things away with magic). And I love them. I love kicking back with a bottle of something cheap, a gal pal and iPlayer (or whatever) and roaring sniggery, joyful commentary at Rupert Penry-Jones pretending to have OCD because someone thought it would give his character on Whitechapel depth.

Whitechapel is especially dear to my heart, actually, because it started out pretty well. The first series operated on the premise that someone was imitating the Jack the Ripper murders with such exact detail and unstoppability that people started to think he'd come back to life. This worked. Jack the Ripper stands pretty tall in the Murderer's Hall of Fame. He's scary because he was never caught. There's a ton of theories about him. And the slight suggestion of the supernatural gave it a nice edge and saved it from being too...Red Riding-y, I guess. Then it got a second series. About the Krays. Yes, the Krays were famous people who did bad things who lived in Whitechapel. That's about as far as anything made sense. Copycat Krays...don't. The Krays did naughty murders because they were building a criminal empire. It was to a purpose. A bad purpose that we at Jane Shakespeare do not in any way condone, no matter how much I might casually drop into conversation my family's spurious connections with the Mafia, but a purpose nonetheless. So they spent an entire series avoiding asking the huge, glaring, obvious question:WHY? Why in heaven's name mimic the not-at-all-famous individual killings of two gangsters? As serial killers go, that's one spending a lot of time in the library. The third series is airing right now and they've basically run up against the wall that most of us saw coming a way back: there are no more crimes in Whitechapel to imitate. Instead, they've opted for a 'crime archive', run by Steve Pemberton, wherein is contained a record of crimes from the world over, many of which bear shocking and convenient resemblances to the crimes being committed in modern day Whitechapel. Hey. Psst. Rupert Penry-Jones. I'd start investigating the guy from The League of Gentlemen, if I were you.

They even have to spell this out in the first episode. "Are you saying it's another copycat?" asks RPJ handsomely (he does everything handsomely, he can't help it). "No," says Steve Pemberton, making sure the audience are paying attention, "but we can use reports of crimes that happened centuries ago or abroad in different social and cultural contexts to help solve ones happening specifically in a very small area of London today." Except that's preposterous and you're ridiculous and god I love this show. Every innovation they make is hilarious: they try and find RPJ a love interest and his initial (handsome) reaction is always along the lines of "Good God, a woman! Get it away! It might use its pheromones or wiles or breasts on me. I hear they have those." Whitechapel (as I said) is also a pretty small area of London, these days mostly populated by upper-middle-class hipsters who consider themselves daring for moving to East London and a handful of belligerent actual East End natives. Whitechapel on TV is a shadowy world of outrageous murders every week or so, Kensington Gore being slung around like it's going out of style, and a "community" of "locals" who are apparently something akin to the villagers in The Wicker Man as every week Salt-of-the-Earth Lady-Policeman reports back that "the word on the street" is that hapless innocents are being stalked by fell agents of darkness for Lucifer's own infernal damned purposes. And they always seem to remember murders that happened in the Victorian era. "It were a dark time," they shake their heads and say, staring traumatised into their builder's tea. Whitechapel: gotta love it.

It's not just crappy telly though. Films are not exempt. Again, I'm not talking obviously shite romantic-comedy-by-numbers bilge like New Year's Eve or whatever Jennifer Aniston is in now. I mean films that have ideas, dangerous ideas, that they wish to achieve. Take Thor. Since posting my review of it (here), where I was fairly "eh", if I recall, I have since watched it more times than any other superhero film I own. Including Iron Man, including The Dark Knight, including X-Men: First Class, all of which are legitimately good movies, which Thor is not. But it has Asgard! Shiny, shiny, camp Asgard! It has a rainbow bridge and a giant hammer and frost giants and I'm already laughing because it is so goddam gloriously ridiculously brilliantly SILLY that I enjoy it with a level of unholy glee good movies can't quite match. I even got over the whole Thor-isn't-really-my-type thing when I decided that Loki was really the main character but Kenneth Branagh didn't want to make Chris Hemsworth jealous. What? What?

The point is, you should try it. I'm not against crap TV, far from it. But there are degrees of crapness. Instead of watching My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding paint an entire culture in what can be generously described as broad brushstrokes, watch Primeval. It may be tosh of the highest order, but it's not exploiting anybody (except you, probably). Instead of popping on Twilight (which, by the way, doesn't count as enjoyably bad because the SILLY moments are outweighed by the THAT'S NOT OKAY moments), why not dig out Heart and Souls, a painfully 80s (despite being produced in 1993) comedy wherein Robert Downey Jr must help four dead people complete their unfinished business before his girlfriend dumps him? What I'm saying is that crap TV can be an innocent guilty pleasure. You too can sit for hours in front of Merlin's uncomfortable shirtless scenes, stuffing your mouth with popcorn and roaring indistinctly "SILLY". Live the dream, people. Live the dream.

*Apparently actually called Playing It Straight. I prefer my title.

** Yes, I'm aware of how pretentious that sounds. Come at me, bro.

Medical Emergency: Doctor Who - 'The Wedding of River Song' and Series Review

What the hell?

Was that - but -

WHAT THE HELL?

Um.

What on earth did I just witness?

Such, gentle reader, were the thoughts sending my brain into Control-Alt-Delete style screen-freeze after watching 'The Wedding of River Song'. Repeating "what?" more times than the 10th Doctor after the Space Titanic crashes into his TARDIS, I have only now composed and ordered my thoughts that I may impart them to you.

That's a complete lie, I have no idea what to feel. Did I like it? Was it good? WHO KNOWS (oh god, no pun intended, especially not with the episode ending on those words). I'm not even sure I was supposed like it. I'm not even sure it was an episode. I'm not even sure that reality exists anymore, perhaps it's just disintegrating and CGI balloon-trains are going to came sailing past my window at any point now. Anything could happen, because apparently the universe is now ruled by insanity and deceptively simple narratives.

Oh Moffat, you must be cackling in your tower like the evil genius you are, and I don't blame you.

I've found it hard to be really excited about the second half of Series 6. The fact that I didn't get round to reviewing the last few episodes stand as testament to that. I did start writing reviews but found my interest in the episodes fizzled out a few minutes after they ended.* In other words, Doctor Who became like regular TV: no drive to analyse or theorise endlessly. Largely I think this was because there was simultaneously too much mystery and too little. Too much in the sense of the late Sherlock Holmes stories: the reader couldn't possibly guess at the solution because it all hinged around an overload of meaningless information that could only come into focus by Holmes revealing a previously unknown character or object or plot point. All the "Silence will fall when the question is asked" stuff was impenetrable (and still is, to some extent) - I highly doubt that even the most dedicated of Whovians heard that and gasped "But of course!" A mystery where there's absolutely no chance that the viewer/reader can solve it is no fun at all. Then there was too little mystery, in the sense that the whole plot seemed perfectly laid out before us: River was in the suit, she killed the Doctor, she went to prison for it. There was nothing for us to guess at, except maybe how the Doctor escaped (because clearly he must) and surely Moffat would have some left-field solution for that - which (in a sense) he did.

Because, hand on heart, I totally forgot about the Tesselecta, bringing to an end my run of plot-guessing good luck. I dismissed the Flesh!Doctor as an obvious red herring but failed to notice the other doppelganger-maker of the series because it seemed like such a daft idea. Well, kudos, to you Moffat and I take my hat off to you. It turns out you knew what you were doing all along. Rather like the Doctor, in fact, I thought you were walking resignedly towards disaster, when in fact you were just waiting to pull a rather audacious backhand: a beautifully simple solution to a very complex problem. Too simple? Or too complex? Perhaps. But my goodness, it makes lovely television. Leaving aside his trademark plot-wrangling, Moffat showcased another of his abilities: an eye for spectacle. Trains over London, pterodactyls in the park, Winston Churchill on a mammoth: why? Because why the hell not. As in 'A Good Man Goes to War', it is this audacity, coupled with a keenly self-mocking sense of humour, that saves Moffat's episodes from falling apart under their own weight.

Speaking of self-mockery, this may well be the most meta episode of Doctor Who there's ever been. Matt Smith all but turned and winked at the camera with his references to Who canon and that rather touching inclusion of Old Who's Brigadier, whose actor died earlier this year. Then there was the Silents acknowledging Rory as "the man who dies and dies again", River's deliciously tongue in cheek "There are so many theories about you and I - am I the woman who marries you or the woman who murders you?" and (my favourite) Dickens teaser trailering the Christmas special. Then, of course, there was The Question which - much like the revelation of River's parentage - I might have guessed at jokily if I'd actually been blogging these last few weeks. So "Doctor who?" is "the oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight" is it? Plain sight being the title of a long-running children's sci-fi show that has never quite made sense because the character is clearly called 'The Doctor', perhaps? It's so meta, I could cry tears of self-aware joy. It's also completely preposterous but I just don't think Moffat cares, so perhaps neither should we.

On a deeper level, the meta-fun extends to the whole structure of the series itself. Ever since 2005, the show-runners have faced the problem of how to keep bettering themselves, how to keep producing finales that are bigger and shinier and more portentous and doom-laden than ever before and it just isn't possible. Tennant's messianic gurning nearly capsized the boat and, I'll admit, I was worried that we'd been seeing re-runs of the Time-Lord-on-Death-Row routine for the last few weeks. But now, with the universe thinking the Doctor is dead (oh Moff, for our lack of faith in questioning why you set up that storyline when he clearly couldn't be really dead, we repent), the show can return to classic adventures, romps and skullduggery, weird planets and bizarre aliens, familiar foes and old friends, and still keep the ticking clock of this new the-question-will-be-asked story arc in the background. A ticking clock, no doubt, that will reach zero hour in time for Matt Smith's exit ("the fall of the Eleventh"?) neatly coinciding with the show's 50th anniversary in 2013. That really is extremely clever.

If I have one major criticism of this episode (alongside all the other little things that just didn't make sense), it was that it didn't feel much like a series finale to me, more a bridge into the next series. In fact, the whole of Season 6 has felt like this to me, especially now we fully understand where it was going: the Doctor's death, River's role in things, these aren't really important in the long run. What's important is what comes after; it was all a set up for a sort of reboot of the reboot. I'm a little sad, because there's been some sterling work this year and to think of the whole thirteen episodes as simply paving the way for a bigger picture doesn't do justice to that. Then again, it's also sort of a relief: if the show is signalling a return to quieter episodes, more of the Doctor "in the shadows" then it means Moffat isn't actually the crazed megalomaniac we know and love. (Let's not hold out too much hope.)

So what have we learned from Series 6 of NuWho? Well, amongst other things, Moffat still has some very funny ideas about women. Both of the series' female protagonists started off as independent (fairly) well-drawn characters and ended up in story lines revolving around motherhood and the Love of Good Man. I can't quite fathom Amy and Rory's lack of crushing breakdown and depression when they realised they would never get to, y'know, hold their firstborn child in their arms and whilst their exit from the show was very well done, I won't miss them much. Not even Rory, who seems to have been forced to attend Masculinity 101 classes - when he wasn't involved in the sort of characterisation ping-pong game that had him still questioning Amy's love for him over the Doctor long after that should have been settled.

So maybe characters aren't Moffat's strong suit, but we've seen plenty of what is: namely, sheer cheek. His story lines may be ridiculous, but they're also immensely entertaining, and the minute we start clutching our pearls and shouting "unbelievable!" at the television about Doctor Who of all things is the minute we should probably step back and go "Guys. Let's calm the fuck down." Epic, extraordinary journeys to the furthest reaches of the galaxy and sparkling, witty dialogue are two things our revered showrunner has down. For next season, I'd like to see some more attention paid to what we might call the 'middle tier' of writing: the people actually doing the journeys to the Seventh Moon of Kallinda and speaking the funny gags about wi-fi. Presumably there'll be some new companions on the horizon and once I stop sobbing "It should have been me!" I'm sure I'll be very excited.

So. Series 7. Bring it, I say. Let there be Matt Smith, let there be Alex Kingston, let there be more lines like "as for the nights, they're between us" to send the old-school fanboys departing in waves of outrage howling "BUT HE'S ASEXUAL" and possibly even "LOOOOOOOOOOOMS" (google it) back to their basements. Let there be new companions who are smart and funny and who don't fall prey either to gender norms or the idea that they are the Single Most Important Entity Ever. Let there be silly weeks where they encounter the Trolls of Troy (I don't know), and let there be scary weeks where they encounter the Shadows of Broken Teeth (I really don't know), and let there be downright awesome weeks where the whole thing is pretty much Matt Smith standing atop the TARDIS yelling, "I AM DOCTOR, HEAR ME ROAR." And let Neil Gaiman back to write at least once per series until the end of time.

To sum up Series 6, it's been...odd. Some I've loved, some I've hated (Thompson), some just left me cold. And that is a sad thing. When Doctor Who fails to get a reaction from me, end times are surely nigh. We wave goodbye to Series 6 with fondness and a little relief, and look forward to Series 7 with high hopes. In the meantime, there's the Christmas special and I've already seen photos of Matt Smith in a 1920s motorcar and a charity shop version of Iron Man's suit. Can't. Wait.

So, the rankings are in and they're really, really unsurprising:

12) The Curse of the Black Spot

I imagine this may come as a shock to some of you, but I really hated this episode.

11) Let's Kill Hitler

Mels. Ugh.

10) Day of the Moon

A disappointing follow up to a storming series opener.

9) Closing Time

Sweet but insubstantial and crucially lacking in real villains.

8) Night Terrors

Heart-warming and atmospheric, but predictably resolved.

7)The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People

A solidly good story, if a little preachy, and very entertaining. (Also not much to separate the two, so I lumped them together.)

6) The Wedding of River Song

It was funny, it was fast, it involved the Doctor and River actually getting married, which personally I find highly erotic. (Please know I am joking. Mostly.)

5) The Impossible Astronaut

Oh look, I just really, really, really enjoyed it.

4) The Girl Who Waited

Even if I didn't have much of a connection to Amy, the episode was beautifully shot and written - a proper piece of grown-up telly.

3) The God Complex

Toby Whithouse at his best, all tea and philosophical debates about the fundamental nature of man. Funny and poignant and a great send-off for the Ponds.

2) A Good Man Goes to War

Utterly brilliant telly from beginning to end - audacious, high-spirited, packed to the gills with lesbian Silurians (no pun intended), blue man troupe ex-members, and Matt Smith with a grin so broad it was practically a northern accent.

1) The Doctor's Wife

Clearly the jewel in the crown of Series 6. To my mind, it was the only episode that really nailed what makes a classic episode: a strong, simple concept that causes emotional as well as narrative complexities, quotable dialogue, a beautiful and weird aesthetic, stellar performances and the most haunting use of the word "hello" I've ever heard. BAFTA, please.

And there we have it. Have a nice hibernation, Doctor. You have a lot of work to do in the spring.

*I'd actually like to finish and post those reviews, so we'll see if I get round to it. If you want a mini-rundown, I thought 'The God Complex' was great, if a little incongruously silly, and 'Closing Time' was a sweet, funny episode that never quite got as poignant as it wanted to be. So now you don't have to read them, even if I do post them. Possibly haven't quite got the hang of this blogging thing yet.

...

In other telly news, Doctor Who got a little shout-out on Community in its Season 3 opener 'Biology 101' with Abed drowning his sorrows at the impending demise of Cougartown with "Inspector Spacetime". "This is the best show I've ever seen," he says immediately. We're glad you feel that way.

I was also glad to see Community back up to speed again this week with 'Geography of Global Conflict' after an opener that was surprisingly low on laughs and high on mid-life crisis (crises?). This week the laughs came flooding back in - but then both of the previous seasons were (ahem) growers and the real gold came mid-season. Excitingly, Annie/Jeff now seems to be being touted as a real possibility - either that or it was blown out the water completely. I'm not sure which, it was kind of hard to tell.

And, best of all, Merlin is back without me even realising it for I have not seen a single trailer for it. For those of you who don't know, Merlin is set in a kind of alternate universe Camelot where Uther Pendragon is king, Prince Arthur is a prissy little bitch, Guinevere is a servant, Merlin has to keep his magic secret because it's banned (or something) and Morgana is a really terrible actress. It's in its fourth series now and, despite the "dark and edgy" makeover, occasionally goes "oh shit, this is supposed to be a kid's show, let's throw in a couple of fart jokes". It's silly and preposterous and if anyone wants to join me for wine and cake while it's on, a right good time will be had by all.