The Twilight Experiment: Part 1

Twilight, eh? Once it was a time of day, now it's a plague upon the face of humanity. Or is it? (Yes. It is.) I've spent a good few years putting effort into avoiding Twilight. I prided myself on never having read the books or seen the films. It was the one exception to my Can't-Hate-Something-'Less-You've-Seen-It Rule. CHSLYSI for short. But no more.

Because I am so super-devoted to you, and because I have been thinking about monsters a lot, and because my morbid curiosity has grown too strong, I'm caving. Am I going to read the books? Hell no, I'm a busy woman. Plus, I have seen extracts from them and I don't think I could do that to myself. Good god, that sentence structure. I still have nightmares about her misuse of the word “chagrin”. The films, on the other hand – that I can do. As an incentive, I'm not allowed to watch any other films or television until I finish. Pray for me.

So in order to make this bearable, I'm recording my thoughts as I go along. Just for fun, let's count the number of times I say “Wait, what?” or “Jeeeeeez” or TALK IN ANGRY CAPITAL LETTERS. (Spoiler alert: it happens a lot.)

In the interests of full disclosure, I actually know quite a lot about what happens in Twilight already. Partly through osmosis, partly because I've read a lot of angry rants about the series on the internet, partly because I know actual living people who openly admit to enjoying this series (don't worry, they won't be living for long). I'd highly recommend this, in which one poor soul took it upon himself to blog his way through every single chapter of the series from beginning to end. I haven't read the books. I read this. It's good.

So, Twilight. First film. Off we go.

The film starts and I feel vaguely dirty, like I'm watching porn only less fun and with explicitly Mormon overtones. We open with a narration from our mumbly protagonist talking about “dying in the place of someone I love” – cut to a quick deer chase through the woods – “so I couldn't regret the decision to leave home”. Wait, what? (That soon, huh? This is going to go slowly.) Welcome to Non-Sequitur City. Population: umbrellas.

The narrator is, of course, Bella Swan. She arrives in Forks, Washington, and she's kind of depressed. Fair enough. It does look horrible. Like most of America that isn't New York or the Grand Canyon. What? Single Dad Charlie awkwardly tries to reconnect with her. No dice. “I cleared some shelves in the bathroom,” he says desperately. “Thank you,” says estranged daughter Bella, “That was really thoughtful of you because this is hard on both of us and we're going to make as much effort as possible to get along.” Only kidding, she pulls a face and says “Oh right. Only one bathroom.” Hmmm. This better not continue.

Outside, a guy in a wheelchair shows up and some dorky kid with long hair. We find out Charlie has been really looking forward to Bella coming to stay. I like Charlie more and Bella less. The two guys are introduced as Billy, a local Native American (and I'm sure this will be handled tastefully, with tact and dignity and – oh wait, it's Twilight) and his son, Jacob. Wait. Wait. That's Jacob? That's the hot werewolf my friends have been sticking posters up of, in flagrant defiance of the fact they're grown women and this isn't allowed? The hell? Jeez. My expectations of this film dip even lower.

Bella arrives at school, so I'm expecting some kind of dorky-new-kid-montage of her being unpopular but no, people literally start fighting over her. Thank god, for a minute there, I really thought we might have to go through a realistic scenario for a new student. Instead, boys love her, girls are jealous of her – yeah, I can really see why this mumbling, insecure-yet-inexplicably-popular girl has become the role model for tweens everywhere.

In the cafeteria, a bunch of models walks past and Bella is distracted by the sudden switch to slo-mo. New Frenemy Jessica fills us in on them: these are Rosalie, Emmet, Alice and Jasper Cullen (and you thought 'Felicity' was pretentious) and they all live together and also have sex with each other. Slightly Nicer Angela points out they're not actually related, which is how we know she's supposed to be the nice one. No, no, I'm with Jessica on this one. As far as she and Angela know, they're foster siblings. That's weird. Also, they all look way too old for high school. I mean, I know (spoiler alert) they're vampires and probably hundreds of years old anyway, but none of them look like high school students. Wait, what? Why do vampires need to go to high school? They're vampires. I think I'm getting a migraine. Jessica continues to describe them all in slightly bitchy ways. I like you, Jess. Let's be friends.

Anyway, then undead object of slavering adolescent lust Edward walks in and I have to pause the video because I'm laughing so hard. Let me just state here and now that I kind of like Robert Pattinson. He wasn't terrible in Harry Potter and he clearly hates his job in these films, plus the amount of crazy he receives on a daily basis is just sad. He called Stephenie Meyer crazy. He described Edward as “an angry virgin”. That's funny. But good god, he looks terrible. This is the man who we have to believe is the most (literally) supernaturally good-looking being in the whole wide universe. He looks...well, he looks dead. First Jacob, now Edward? Please film, give me some eye candy to help me get through this mess. It's that or strong drink.

I also have to pause the next scene quite a bit because I'm laughing so much. Bella goes to Biology class and – surprise – has to sit next to Edward because Stephenie Meyer is lazy. First he covers his mouth and gags when she comes near and, I must say, I'm also starting to develop something of a gag reflex regarding Bella Swan. Then Bella stares at Edward. Then Edward stares at Bella. Then Bella stares more at Edward. Then Edward stares more at Bella and then I stare incredulously at the shot where the wings of a stuffed owl are positioned directly behind Edward's vampiric shoulders. Because it's like he has wings. You get it, right? Like, angel wings. Because angels are perfect. And Edward is perfect. And he's like an angel. Because he's perfect. And beautiful. Like an angel. Who has wings. Do you want me to go over that again? No? Where are you going?

So Bella mopes about a) the fact that Edward thinks she's so repulsive he won't even come to school anymore and b) the fact that she has no friends. Despite ignoring the palpable efforts of her schoolmates to make friends with her. Hmm.

And then, fifteen minutes in – BAM. It's like another, much better movie has just started. People are running down corridors and doing parkour. Vampire parkour? Could be. Exciting. Also, Emmet the Vampire rides to school on top of the Vampire RV. Emmett might be my favourite character so far.

Sadly, things go back to normal as we then have our first conversation between Bella and Edward. As things go, it's not quite “she doth teach the torches to burn bright”. In fact, Edward stares at her and addresses her with the intensity of gaze and monotony of tone of a serial killer. Bella doesn't mind because the hot guy is talking to her. Wait, what? This is the interaction between the lovers that will define literature for a generation? This? It is also now inescapably noticeable that NEITHER OF THEM EVER VARY THEIR TONE OR FACIAL EXPRESSION. Where's the vodka. This is going to be painful.

Over the course of this conversation, we learn that:

1. Edward knows a suspicious amount about the national meteorological patterns of the United States. And asks questions like “Do you like rain?”

2. It takes Bella about half an hour to answer questions like “Do you like rain?”

3. Edward thinks it is appropriate to back girls into their lockers while making statements like “I'm just trying to figure you out. I find you very hard to read.” Presumably, this is his defence at the restraining order violation hearing as well.

4. Edward's eyes change colour from black to gold. They both look stupid.

Then that scene that we all know from the trailers happens. In the face of an oncoming truck, Bella channels every silent film heroine ever and stands there dumbly as her demise hurtles towards her on wings of death. No wait, here's her pasty CG-Eyed lover (see what I did there) to pull a Superman and bat that truck away like it ain't no thang. At this point in real life, Bella would probably offer her saviour a thank-you shag, or a least a cheeky blozzer round the back of the bike sheds, and the two would then ignore each other awkwardly for the rest of their time at school. There, I just saved you four books and five movies of diminishing returns. Sadly, Edward just stares at her (again) and runs away. Jasper is kind of cute though. Or maybe my standards are just rapidly declining all round.

ARGH. Why does all Edward's dialogue sound like a cross between an Old West sheriff dismissing a hysterical woman and a mass murderer seducing his next victim? At the hospital, we're introduced to Daddy Cullen (Seriously, a note on the vamp make-up here – I get that they need to be pale and interesting, but these people look unwell. Like a cult of unwell people who all have sex together.) and then Bella confronts Edward about his superpowers.

Bella: So you got over there pretty quick.

Edward: What? No. Girl, you crazy. I was standing next to you the whole time.

Bella: Except for the part where you were totally standing by your car.

Edward: Yer jest confused, little lady. You take a knock to that pretty little head of yours?

Bella: No, you were there! I saw you! And then you pushed the van away, just like in that episode of Superman but Raf can't remember which one it is!

Edward: Weeeeeellp, guess we'll never know. Though if you were to go around spinning crazy talk like that, no-one would believe you.

Bella: I wasn't going to tell anyone.

That there in italics? That's actual dialogue. By the way, I'm not reading into anything here. They play this scene like Edward is threatening her and Bella is scared into submission. But that's just one scene, right? Well, the next scene is him watching her sleep.

Seriously, if this was a horror movie, it could be great. Vampires are nature's stalkers – quick, silent, and they want to devour young flesh. I'd love a twisted, psychological thriller about a girl who falls for a vampire (as a result of reading Twilight, for bonus meta-points), only to realise he has developed a dangerous obsession with her, seeking to control her every action, watching her every minute of the day. Pitting her human courage against his superhuman abilities, she must emerge victorious. The film ends with her staking him through the heart, shouting “THAT WAS FOR THE SISTERHOOD. RAFAELLA OUT, BITCHES.”

Or something. She doesn't have to be called that. She could be called...Bafaella. Or something.

We then have a scene in which Edward listens in on Bella's private conversation, questions her about her movements aggressively, refuses to answer her own questions and concludes by telling her “You don't know anything.” Ring a ding ding, Bella, this one's a keeper.

This is followed by a scene in the cafeteria where Bella's non-vampire friends act like actual teenagers instead of uptight, plaster-of-paris-skinned jerks. And guess what? Bella acts like an actual teenager too. Kristen Stewart is a slightly less horrible actress for a moment. She makes a joke. I smile. It's a beautiful, beautiful moment amidst a sea of horrifying character interactions. Sadly, it doesn't last because Edward comes over and tries to pull his emotional whiplash stuff again. Again, it comes across as a mix between a thirteen-year-old kid painting his bedroom walls black and bawling “Nobody understands me!” and – I cannot stress this enough – a fucking serial killer. “What if I'm not the hero?” he growls. “What if I'm the bad guy?” He's admitting it! Run, Bella, run! You literally have it from his own mouth! What more do you need?! But no, Bella decides this cannot possibly the case because he's too perfect and beautiful and truck-repellant. Sigh. I give up on you, Bella Swan. You're on your own now. You are every blonde woman who walks into every cellar where the scary noise is instead of calling the police. So when Charlie finds your dismembered corpse, don't say I didn't warn you.

This is immediately followed by Bella telling Nice Angela that if she wants to go to the prom with Eric (Eric is a boy who likes Bella, though that doesn't really narrow the field much), she should ask him herself. “You are a strong, independent woman,” Bella tells her. Oh, you think you're so cocking clever, don't you.

Jacob turns up again and Jacob and Bella converse like normal teenagers. Bella says, “What are you stalking me or something?” I'd make a comment here about smug self-awareness not being charming or clever, but that's pretty much what this blog runs on. Anyway, Jacob tells some story about how his tribe (again, I'm sure the real life Quileute Tribe feel nothing but affection towards this suburban housewife pilfering their cultural history for fodder for a sub-par teen romance) are descended from wolves to defend against “the cold ones”. For the first time, I feel like this could be an actually interesting monster story, mainly because I'm going “WEREWOLVES WEREWOLVES WEREWOLVES”. More of this, please.

In a stunning vein (no pun intended) of good fortune, the Good Vampire Film continues with a scene of three Flamboyant Evil Vampires being actual vampires, that is to say ripping out throats and walking cockily. Then we're back to Bella and her terrible life.

She's going prom dress shopping with her friends in a local town called Port Angelos and, no surprises here, is a massive bitch to them. She's not going to the prom because she hates fun but Frenemy Jess has asked her along for her opinion. Instead, Bell stares out the window looking bored and grunts “you look lovely” at each outfit. Well if Jess had wanted that, she would have brought her boyfriend along, AM I RIGHT LADIES? OH SNAP. BRING IT IN.

Anyway, maybe this is meant to show how Bella is mature and beyond such frivolous persuits but given that she's just thinking about a hot guy instead, it's not really working. Speaking of, Edward follows her to Port Angelos: Den of Vice, because that's what you do when you've spoken to someone four times, right? Right? Shit. Bella nearly gets raped because I guess even criminals can't resist her and Big Brave Eddie steps in to rescue her. Edward and Bella have dinner. Bella asks for answers (again). He responds with something like, “Maybe. I don't feel like it. Can I have ice cream?” Edward Cullen: four year old. He does, however, tell Bella the following:

• I followed you because I feel protective towards you.

• Other men were thinking bad thoughts about you.

• I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore.

Edward Cullen: creepy, victim-blaming stalker

Bella does some googling and figures out he's a vampire, based on the fact that he

• is super strong

• is super fast

• has cold skin

• never eats or drinks

• speaks like he's from the past (wait, what? When?)

• can read minds.

Well Bella must be some kind of Sherlock Holmes or something because if I put those facts together about someone, I'd come up with David Blaine. But whatever, she confronts him and he confesses. And then – oh god, and then. Then he reveals the sparkles. This may be my favourite bit of the entire film, possibly because if I didn't laugh, I would cry. He steps solemnly into the light and, as the light hits, revealing more glitter than a Gay Pride march, he says, “This is the skin of a killer, Bella. THE SPARKLY, FABULOUS SKIN OF A KILLER.” I might have made that last bit up.

He also shows off his vamp abilities, saying this explains why he's been avoiding Bella: her blood smells tasty and he wants to avoid ripping her head off. He also feels the need to add, “As if you could outrun me, as if you could fight me off. Again, this should be the point in the horror movie where Bella starts running, possibly calling “challenge accepted” over her shoulder. We get more lovely, victim-blaming lines like, “I hated you for making me want you so badly. I still don't know if I can control myself.” Is that an elephant in the room? No, it's the metaphor for abstinence. Bells and Eddie decide to get it on anyway, giving my second favourite line of the whole film: “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb.” I'll just type that again. AND SO THE LION FELL IN LOVE WITH THE LAMB.

WHAT? WHAT? Brilliant.

Wait, we don't even get to see them kiss? The only thing this series has going for it is that is caters to the sexuality of teenage girls. And you just panned away from the kiss. Nice going, film-makers.

Edward and Bella show up to school together in a scene straight out of Grease (he even has shades), and then they chat some more about vampires. Edward finds it appropriate to throw casual references to drinking Bella's blood into the conversation. Bella goes for dinner at the Cullen's house, and everything is super awkward in more than the usual sit-com meeting-the-boyfriend's-parents way. Big sister Rosalie hates Bella so is clearly meant to be an antagonist, so naturally I can't help but agree with everything she says (maybe me and Jess can go and hang there sometime). Sister Alice is Manic Pixie Dream Girl of the highest degree, practically cartwheeling through the house in stripy tights bellowing “I'M QUIRKY”. Mummy Esme does precisely nothing. Bro Emmett, I like. We've discussed this. And Jasper just follows Alice around and doesn't speak. Daddy Doctor Carlyle Cullen, we discover, vamped them all when they were dying humans, so let's not dwell on the fact that of all the dying humans he must have seen as a doctor, the ones he necked were attractive teenagers. Edward casually threatens Bella again in conversation, then jumps from tree to tree like a flying squirrel with Bella on his back. But not before telling her to “hold on tight, spider-monkey.” Dude. It's not sexy.

Then we get to hear Edward playing the piano. Jeeeeez. Where's the goddamn plot in this movie? The evil vampires come back. Thank god. Only 70 minutes in. No wait, they're gone again. Instead we get more conversations between Bella and Edward. Jeeeeeeeeeeez. He admits he's been watching her sleep for the past few months. Not cool. They start snogging, and Eddie freaks out and jumps a mile, then blames Bella. That's really not cool.

Eddie formally introduces himself to Charlie and they talk about Bella like she's a three year old going on a playdate. Edward says, “She won't be home too late and I won't give her any sugar because I know how she gets. Also, no cartoons.”

In reality, he's taking her to play vampire baseball. I can't make up my mind as to whether this is really lame or actually kind of cool. Luckily, I don't have to decide because Emmet does a little dance. He is deff my fave Cullen. And then look! Plot shows up! Making an entrance so dramatic it could be the opening to a heavy metal video. Yeah, vampire face-off! Even if the evil vamps are just posing dramatically and the Cullens are just hissing in a way that would be frankly embarrassing if you saw your old seven-year-old cousin doing it while playing “wampires”.

Aaaaand not even that disappointing bit of conflict lasts because they all agree to just play baseball. Lame. Also lame? Vampire innuendo. “I'm the one with the wicked curve ball,” pouts Victoria, the evil-girl-vampire. Your whole existence is based around sucking and exchange of fluids. Do better. Meanwhile Edward and another evil vampire are staring at each other. Edward sure loves to stare.

Plot! James (seriously? James is your best vampire name?) the Evil Vampire wants to track Bella and kill her for some lazy and unconvincing reason, so she has to skip town. I'll say this, the scene where she convinces her dad she doesn't want to live with him is surprisingly emotional – possibly because Charlie is played by a real actor and not the corpse of one being zapped by cattle prods. Emmet jumps on top of cars again. Wheee! Rosalie questions the wisdom of risking everyone else life to save Bella's (at last, some sense) and Daddy Cullen explains why Bella is part of their cult now: “Bella is with Edward, so she is part of this family now. [ominous pause] We take care of our family.” Also when Bella is leaving, Eddie says to her, “Bella, you are my life now.” AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

James comes up with some kind of convoluted plot involving kidnapping Bella's mum only he didn't really and leading Bella to her old ballet studio. Except he's in her old house to make the ruse. Why not just entice her to the house? Probably because a ballet studio looks cooler, that's why. Lots of room for insultingly obvious symbolism with broken mirrors. We get a restatement of Bella's opening voiceover, only now she says she doesn't mind dying because it brought her to Edward. Wait, what? Dum-dum-dum, it's a trap! James basically admits he wants to kill Bella to piss off Edward. I like James.

Yay action! An actual action scene! But James can apparently be beaten by Edward, so maybe he isn't so great. Just as Eddie is gearing up for some slaughter, Carlyle shows up all “no, remember who you are”. Boo. What happened to the “rip him apart and burn the pieces” stuff from earlier? Wait, what? It's ok for Alice/Jasper/Emmet to kill James? Oh right, because then it can be just out of focus enough to keep the PG-13 certificate, while Edward can hold Bella's hand as she haemorrhages in the foreground, and every right thinking person can be royally pissed off that we don't get to see the only cool thing promised in this film. Bella has been bitten by James so she has vampire “venom” in her bloodstream. Eddie volunteers to suck it out but if he doesn't stop, she'll get vamped. Not quite sure where this fits into the abstinence metaphor to be honest. So Edward nearly turns her into a vamp but doesn't because that would be far too interesting. He does this through the power of montage.

Bella wakes up in hospital, where her mum says Edward and his dad went to find her and she fell down two flights of stairs and through a window at her hotel. Yep, because if two men I'd never met before showed up with my daughter suffering severe injuries, I'd automatically believe them too. We learn that of the three evil vamps, one is harmless, James is dead, and Victoria ran off. So she definitely won't be showing up as the villain of future films then. Edward says Bella has to leave Forks and she has a hilariously epic freak out, which is too good not to link (sorry about the quality, only clip I could fine). Also, why are there still 15 minutes of this film left to go?

Oh right, the stupid prom. Well, Jacob shows up (Hi Jacob! Having sat through this movie, I already like you better than anyone else in it!) and says his dad thinks Bella and Edward should break up. Does no-one in Forks have anything better to do than comment on their relationship? There's a moment of Edward/Jacob tension but it's 110 minutes too late to save this movie. Edward finishes off his general d-baggery by lifting Bella over steps like he's her parent, saying “prom is an important rite of passage, I didn't want you missing it” like he's her parent, and pulling her up onto his feet to dance. Like he's her parent. Bella rounds off her general unlikeability by showing up to prom and being snobby about her friends who are daring to have fun and act their age, and not like a married couple from the 19^th century. One again, there is another conversation about Bella being vampified and oh, oh, oh, he's gonna do it! Psych. Nope. You have to wait another four films for that.

And we end with a shot of Victoria. At the prom. Why? Who knows? A better is question is: who cares?

So my conclusion on Twilight Part 1 is that it's not terrible, just really really dull. I think the best thing you can say for it is that it has some nice locations, even if the director doesn't know how to frame a shot beyond uncomfortable close-ups of the leads or way-too-wide shots of the forest. There's some goldenly, gloriously bad lines of dialogue, favourite obviously being “This is the skin of a killer, Bella!” *sparkles*. “And then the lion fell in love with the lamb” runs a pretty close second because I commend any young man in his early twenties who can say that without sniggering. But it's all downhill from there. The pacing is terrible – all the plot is in the last twenty minutes of the film and also makes no sense. Stewart and Pattinson are fairly terrible leads, both mumbling, frozen-faced, charisma vacuums, emo-ing and indie-ing their way through a mediocre love story. But what gets me most is that Twilight is frustrating: the rare moments of humour play well, as do those of teenagers being actual teenagers. Unfortunately, everything just collapses under the weight of its own simultaneously under- and over-written ponderousness.

The major problem, of course, is the central relationship. If Meyer had written or been trying to write a study of the way desire is bound up with danger – if Bella had been a heroine with some agency and personality and strength, fighting her own desires for a man she knows will kill her in the end – that might have been compelling. As it is – retrogressive, with unlikeable leads – why should we care?

Wait, what? Count: 7.

Jeeeez count: 3.

CAPSLOCK count: 10.

See you for Part 2: New Moon, and keep watching the skies! Wait, that's not right.

Sherlock: In the business, this is known as a 'reaction post'

Sherlock, Episode 3: The Reichenbach Fall. Contains spoilers. Since I can no longer communicate in anything but permanent capslock, here are ten breathy, excessive reactions to tonight's episode:

1) INCOHERENT SOBBING.

2) MOLLY.

3) I WILL NEVER DOUBT YOU EVER AGAIN STEPHEN THOMPSON AND I AM SORRY FOR ALL THE HORRIBLE THINGS I SAID ABOUT YOU IN MY BLOG (BUT REALLY I STILL HATE YOUR EPISODE OF DOCTOR WHO AND YOUR LAST EPISODE OF SHERLOCK WAS KIND OF IFFY AND BORDERLINE RACIST).

4) MOLLY.

5) I MUST FIND MARTIN FREEMAN AND HUG HIM FOREVER WHETHER HE WANTS IT OR NOT.

6) FAIRY TALES ARE SUPER CREEPY.

7) I KIND OF FANCY MORIARTY NOW. IS THAT WRONG? I THINK THAT'S WRONG.

8) SOMEBODY NEEDS TO KISS SOMEONE ON THIS SHOW AND I DON'T CARE WHO BUT OTHERWISE MY TELLY WILL EXPLODE FROM ALL THE SEXUAL TENSION. IT'S SHERLOCK HOLMES, THERE ISN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE SEXUAL TENSION. IN THAT EPISODE ALONE I COUNTED SHERLOCK/JOHN, SHERLOCK/LESTRADE, JOHN/LESTRADE, SHERLOCK/MOLLY, JOHN/MYCROFT, MYCROFT/MORIARTY, SHERLOCK/KATHERINE PARKINSON, SHERLOCK/DONOVAN, SHERLOCK/ANDERSON AND HUGE, BEACON-FLASHING AMOUNTS OF SHERLOCK/MORIARTY. IT IS OFFICIAL, SHERLOCK HOLMES HAS SEXUAL CHEMISTRY WITH EVERYONE. "THE REST IS JUST TRANSPORT." WHAT. EVER.

9) IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE ALL 'WELL OBVIOUSLY HE WASN'T GOING TO BE DEAD' THEN YOU CAN JUST FUCK RIGHT OFF THANKS BECAUSE I'VE READ THE ORIGINAL STORIES AND ALSO IT IS A HUGELY SUCCESSFUL TV SERIES AND OBVIOUSLY THEY WILL KEEP MAKING IT BECAUSE THEY WILL GET LOTS OF AWARDS AND MONEY SO YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SHERLOCK HOLMES TO FIGURE OUT THAT HE WASN'T GOING TO BE REALLY DEAD (SEE WHAT I DID THERE) AND ALSO SOME FUCKER SPOILED IT FOR ME ON FACEBOOK BEFORE I EVEN SAW IT BUT IF YOU WATCHED JOHN WATSON BEING ALL 'DON'T BE DEAD' AND SHERLOCK BEING ALL SELF-SACRIFICING AND DIDN'T GET WHY IT WAS WORTH CRYING AND MAKING UNREADABLE BLOG POSTS ABOUT THEN I DON'T REALLY WANT YOU IN MY LIFE.

10) MOLLY.

I have a sensible, intelligent post coming soon. I swear. Just as soon as I've spooned my brain back in through my ears.

5 Reasons Why You Should Be Really Fucking Psyched About The Avengers Film: Video Blog

And now for something completely different.

Just for a change (and because even typing is apparently too much effort now), I've decided to try something new and do a video blog. Possibly this is because I've been watching too much Nostalgia Critic and fallen into the dangerous trap of going "Pshaw! How hard can it be?", possibly because I am simply a dangerous egomaniac with far too many opinions. Who can say?

Either way, I apologise for the crappy picture quality, crappy sound quality and crappy editing. It's my first day.

Enjoy.

Telly Wrangling: Home Brew (Spooks, Merlin, Fresh Meat)

Greetings, gentle readers, and welcome to what I hope will be a regular instalment in the (let's admit, patchy) adventures of this blog. Amongst my many, many areas of expertise, I think we can all agree that mindless over-analytical witterings about T.V. is a particular strong point. Here I review a selection of the week's British telly, with some thoughts on the broadcast outings of our friends across the pond still to come.

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Spooks, Series 10 Episode 3 (BBC, Saturday 1st October)

Imagine being told "have sex with this woman or everyone will die". Yeah, it's a hard life being in the secret service, eh? After a rather scrambled start to it'd final season, Spooks is back on form with a cracking episode that sees Handsome Dimitri finally step into the limelight. Actor Max Brown must be the only person not mourning the absence of Richard Armitage from our screens as it means he very nearly gets enough character development to stop me mentally referring to him as 'Handsome Dimitri'. Almost, but not quite. He is very handsome. This week sees him going undercover to seduce the sister of Anarchist Johnny and stop a potential dirty bomb threat aimed at a thinly veiled Rupert Murdoch caricature (current affairs, y'see?). The sister - let us call her Average-Looking Natalie - lights up as she spots her blind date for the evening, 'Ryan' the 'estate agent', and doesn't do much else except be awkwardly working class. The following 50 minutes were packed full of exactly the kind of low-tech thrills, spills and double crosses that prove Spooks still knows how to produce a pleasing, intelligent episode when it wants to.

Elsewhere, after the untimely demise of Poor Tariq (only to be reincarnated as a twattish musician on Channel 4's Fresh Meat - see below), Callum is finally proving his worth by investigating the death of the bromance that never was. Lara Pulver continues to put in a performance that can only be described as a "Poor Man's Ros", leading me to dub her character Grim Erin. Given that Pulver is also due to appear in Series 2 of the excellent Sherlock in the contentious role of Irene Adler, I hope she learns to emote a little by the end of the series. Having her plot-point - sorry, daughter - put in mortal danger by the end of the run should do it, as will surely happen.

Harry and Ruth continue to be the real stars of the show, sharing pained looks across the briefing table. But with Harry's film-noir-esque ex-lover and belligerent son (a kind of Russian spy version of Harry Enfield's Kevin) muddying the waters, it seems Ruth is in danger of being driven into the arms of the oily Home Secretary, both professionally and perhaps otherwise. Don't do it, Ruth. Harry may have less hair but he's the better man by far. Though for a show that slaughters its characters with such apparent glee, can there really be any hope of a happy ending for these two? Godspeed, you middle-aged Romeo and Juliet, godspeed.

Merlin, Series 4 Episodes 1 & 2: The Darkest Hour, Parts 1 and 2

Also making a welcome return to our screens is the BBC's 'not Doctor Who' show, Merlin. despite the fourth series' Dark and Edgy makeover (and increased budget, perhaps?) the silliness and heart of the show are still intact. We've been served up two surprisingly tight, well-written episodes with genuinely scary villains, the Dorocha (blue ghosty dementory thingies that screech unsettlingly), controlled by Bridget Jones' mum.

Bradley James continues to play Arthur with just the right hint of self-awareness, as is only right for a character who has failed to notice for four years that his BFF's eyes go strangely glowy every time his life is miraculously saved yet again. Plus, of course, those obligatory Arthur shirtless scenes, along with a rather loving shot of his arse in literally the opening minutes of the first episode. It's in his contract, I swear to god. Colin Morgan is still strong as the titular boy wizard and in the midst of all the angst, there was some of the bromantic bantering we all know and love: "Clotpole," says Arthur. "That's my word," says Merlin. Self-referential, see. Oh boys, you make me so happy.

Gwen (Angel Coulby) took a backseat to the boys' adventures in the first part, which I hope is not a sign of regular things to come, as she is by far the best actor on the show. However, my prayers for less Regulation to Love Interest, more Promotion to Blacksmithing and Dispensing of Wisdom were swiftly answered, with Part 2 providing a glimpse of those Once and Future Queenly powers. Essentially, she's being set up as a kind of people's princess, pseudo-medieval Diana, only with less designer outfits and more practical advice at her fingertips, like "don't remove the only protection that extremely vulnerable people have from screaming blue ghosts". And now apparently she's as much of a threat as Arthur to Morgana and Agravaine having regular smirking parties, so she's also in the firing line for more Scooby-Doo-style villain plots doomed to failure. Excellent, excellent, excellent.

However, the main focus really was on the newly christened Knights of the Round Table or, as I like to think of them, Princely Arthur and his Jukebox Knights, Camelot's No.1 Boyband. Obviously, you've got Arthur as frontman, with Gwaine as the cheeky Irish one, Elian the 'urban' one (one of two black people in Camelot and yes, they're related), Percival the Sweet One and Sir Leon, the long-suffering band manager. And, of course, the shock exit of Lancelot the Soulful Latino One. Dead for Real or Sleeping Lions? I'll be honest, I couldn't quite tell if that was a body they were giving a spuriously Viking-style funeral to (though if I listed every historical or mythological inaccuracy on this show, we'd never see sunrise) or just his sword and what have you - we last saw him striding manfully into a howling void of death in order to save his friends so will the veil spit him back out or has he gone down the Sirius Black route? Only time will tell. It would make sense if he's Dead for Real, given that the thing Lancelot is really famous for in the stories is bumping uglies on the sly with Guinevere and on the show the writers have really painted themselves into a corner with the Arthur/Gwen/Lancelot love triangle. Where we left it, Arthur and Gwen were happily ensconced in cosily forbidden domesticity with him looking angstily and nobly into the distance while she delivers reassuring speeches about what a great guy he is... aaaand that's still where we are. Basically. There's really no room for Lancelot in this scenario, given that Gwen won't even glance in the direction of his ridiculously defined jawline, so he's stuck staring moonily at her and suffering through the self-inflicted torture of keeping safe Princess Arthur. And looking wry every time Merlin does magic, of course. So the show can probably toddle along without him but then again - an Arthur legend with no Lancelot at all? It's like a sky without a rainbow every once in a while. A really good-looking, sexy rainbow.

Elsewhere, not much has changed. Eoin Macken's Gwaine is Irish and thus automatically comic relief, though with Lancelot out of the way, maybe he'll be enjoying some Dimitri-style time in the limelight. Percival and Elian's dialogue seems to be written with the idea that a show built around one bromance really needs another. I demand a spin-off: every week the unlikely pairing rescue more implausibly cute children from certain death while Percival models Camelot Gap's new chain mail range (conveniently short-sleeved to show off those rippling biceps) and Elian delivers cocky one-liners. Gwaine can come too as a kind of tall, handsome (one thing you can say about this show is that it panders to the female fans and those inclined to the gentlemen just as much as it indulges in male gaze, if not more) canary, wandering into the mine shafts of danger with nought but twinkly, Hibernian over-confidence to guard him.

It also seems like we've seen the last of Emilia Fox's sultry Morgause, sadly, as she makes way for new villain Agravaine, played with a double order of ham and cheese by Nathaniel Parker. The great thing about Morgause was that her hollow-eyed crack-addict intensity went some way towards balancing out Morgana's incessant smirking. Unfortunately, Agravaine seems to have a mean smirk of his own, in every sense, and I'm not sure my poor eyes can take much more of these mouth-acrobatics. On the plus side, maybe he'll teach her to do it properly now. Either that or she'll break her face trying.

Merlin. Long may its implausible plots, bewildering lack of character development and shameless fanservice reign.

Fresh Meat, Channel 4

And finally, let's round up with a quick note on Fresh Meat, Channel 4's new university comedy after their last effort Campus, which induced all kinds of confusing reactions amongst which laughter was strangely absent. I have many reasons to dislike Fresh Meat. Well, one. Namely that Channel 4 weren't the only ones to realise there hadn't been a decent uni house comedy since The Young Ones and I started writing one with a friend. And obviously, the BBC were going to be interested in this script by a couple of first time writers about thinly-veiled versions of themselves that was terribly middle-class and obviously there were going to make it and obviously it was going to be really successful and Rebecca Front was going to play my mum and we were going to win BAFTAs and I would use my acceptance speech to lobby for the role of the next companion in Doctor Who and obviously the only thing to stop that happening now is the appearance of Fresh Meat. Obviously

But, like the generous-hearted person I am, I decided to give these poor, misguided amateurs a chance and you know what? It's really good. As in, funny. As in, laugh out loud funny occasionally. Weirdly, for a show written by Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, most famous for the (I don't care what anyone says) still excellent Peep Show, it feels much more like an episode of Green Wing moved to a university campus, than Campus, which was actually supposed to be Green Wing moved to a university campus, did. I'm even managing to tolerate the presence of Jack Whitehall, or as I know him, Oh, That Tosser Again. You've got the standard will-they-won't-they couple, played harmlessly by a pretty blonde and the only normal looking one from The Inbetweeners, but that's not really where the interest lies. Apart from Jack Whitehall playing (shocker) a twattish public schoolboy, there's the brunette overachiever desperately trying to reinvent herself as edgy and laid-back (I'm not really at the names-learning stage yet), who in in the unenviable position of playing an extremely unlikable character very well (though her storyline has just got interesting). My favourites, though, are Stoic Howard, the student who never quite managed to move out of the house and standout performance, Vod, even if she is basically Superhans's estranged daughter.

...

And that's it for the first week of British telly-wrangling. Depending on how crushingly egotistical I'm feeling each week, the need to share my thoughts on the nation's favourite pastime (except for prostitution, obviously) will vary from programme to programme, but for now I'll say sayonara.

Can't believe Marianne didn't win Great British Bake-Off though. That Jo, with her four sons and inspirational story of breaking out of the kitchen (though admittedly she didn't so much break out as do a u-turn right back into the kitchen) and achieving her dream. What a bitch, eh?

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.

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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.

God and the Doctor: Doctor Who - 'The God Complex' Review

Yes, I know it's not a pun. But it is from a poem by Robert Owens:

God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, both are alike requited,
God is forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.

Before we proceed any further with our space-time revelry, let me just acknowledge how remiss I have been with this blog lately. My excuse is twofold: firstly, I am trying to be a proper adult, which is exciting and boring by turns and leaves very little time for over-analysing the adventures of a 900-year-old Gallifreyan. Secondly, I'm going to blame some of this on the series itself. Whilst none of the episodes of the second half have yet been bad (per se), I find myself somewhat lacking in momentum to review them. Whereas at the beginning of the series, there were compelling mysteries to be unravelled, now I'm not so sure that there's a twist coming that's big enough to justify all this grandiose kerfuffling - if it's coming at all.

Mais, je divague. What did I think of The God Complex? Quite a lot, as it happens. It continued the series vogue for 'grown-up sci-fi', which I think we must now accept as the norm. I'm thrilled but the question must be asked: are the kiddies still following all this pseudo-philosophical angsting? Well, probably. Children are both very discerning and very accepting about their television/books/films - much like the rest of us, in fact.

Coming from the pen of Toby "Being Human" Whithouse, I had high(ish) hopes (let's say Empire State Building, not Hubble Telescope). His previous episodes have been crowd-pleasers, namely Tennant-and-Rose outing 'School Reunion' and last year's 'The Vampires of Venice'. Like in his signature show, Being Human, his Who episodes have veered between silly, homely, tea-based humour and Epic-Dark-Heart-End-of-Days-Fundamental-Statement-About-the-Human-Condition things. 'School Reunion' was a very touching reintroduction to Old Who legend Sarah-Jane Smith and set us up for the tearful impending departure of Billie Piper, while 'The Vampires of Venice' was a silly, light-hearted romp from beginning to end involving Matt Smith delivering a line about buxom fish, so that was alright with me. Imagine, then, my (pleasant) surprise on settling down to watch this classy, sweet, poignant episode that certainly stands amongst the better episodes of a patchy season.

Yes, there was a certain amount of silliness. Why set it in a kitsch, tacky eighties hotel? Because it's kitsch, tacky and eighties. Why have a very fake-looking minotaur as the baddie? Because, oh, I dunno, it lives in a labyrinth or something, which is mythology, which is kind of religion, and we needed an allegory for faith. Why have David Walliams swathed in prosthetics borrowed from the Star Trek make-up department? Because...look, just because, okay? Stop asking stupid questions. It's a show about an alien in a blue box. And David Walliams was quite funny anyway (let's call it the Corden factor: making previously irritating comedians surprisingly palatable in the reflected aura of Matt Smith's greatness).

But silliness is forgivable - indeed, it is part of the show's great tradition. There's been a distinct lack of silliness lately, actually, and it's really bringing the mood down. In some ways, Toby Whithouse was the perfect person to write an episode for this point in the series run: with storm clouds gathering and Moffat's pen poised for an incomprehensible barnstormer of a series finale (we hope), Whithouse's signature mix of goofy wit and portentous sweeping statements about Love or Loss or Fear or Whatever was exactly what the Doctor ordered (there's your pun). I just sort of wish this had been the penultimate episode. No, there was nothing really bad about this episode except some minor nitpicks (not sure about the flickering typefaces during the possessions, or the heavy-handed social commentary surrounding Doomed Rita's faith), so thumbs up from me.

What we had was a nicely complex exploration of faith: no outright condemnations of it, nothing along the lines of Russell T Davies' staunchly atheist Whoniverse, but a thoughtful, funny and occasionally poignant episode with a distinctly Douglas Adams-style humanity to it.

Time Para-Docs: Doctor Who - 'The Girl Who Waited' Review

(Spoilers for Doctor Who and The Great British Bake-Off. No, seriously.)

First of all, sorry about kicking things off with such an awful pun. After I'm done, I'll get my coat.

So. The Girl Who Waited. Ah. Argh. There was so, so much that was good about this episode and I really wanted to love it. Unfortunately, the payoff just wasn't quite there for me.

The concept is brilliant: through various sci-fi-esque contrivances (in this case, a kind of intergalactic hospice that traps sufferers in a time-expanding/compressing goldfish bowl so their loved ones can observe them) we get 'Rory's Choice: The Revenge'. In the best tradition of British sci-fi, it was surreal, hard-hitting, eccentric and beautifully conceived (aesthetically a cross between Alice in Wonderland and The Prisoner*). I also enjoyed being treated to some more inventive camera-work than we've had in a while (artsy lenswork being something of a feature of the Moffat era); I loved all the sliding fades and woozy split screen in a lovely bit of subtle foreshadowing, though didn't relish the over-reliance on lens flares. (Then again, my favourite piece of camerawork in Who history might well be that sunburst across the lens in 'The Eleventh Hour' at the exact moment the Doctor convinces Amy to trust him for the first time.)

It is becoming something of a truism that both the Doctor-lite and the budget-saving episodes of Who are amongst the best, forcing the writers to sharpen their quills and get back to that old chestnut, narrative. No high-speed chases, no CGI monsters, just a few characters and an inventive concept (hopefully). The Girl Who Waited managed to achieve that rare thing of being both narratively and conceptually satisfying, having the driving force behind the storyline be Amy and Rory's relationship, whilst ensuring that there actually is a decent storyline in the first place. It reminded me a little of the standout episode of Catherine Tate's tenure, Turn Left, which didn't feature the Doctor at all and by pulling back from all the Madcap Space Adventures proved that Tate is a fine actress when she wants to be, and quite capable of bringing a tear to the eye. In a similar way, Karen Gillan (whose acting ability I have cast a few aspersions on in the past) earned my respect with her finely differentiated Old and Young Amys, while Arthur Darvill continues to be rather excellent (and apparently quite a fox in those glasses, for the second time this series).

Bu this is where my criticisms begin, I'm afraid. Narratively and conceptually satisfying it might have been, but emotionally it was not. That last conversation through the TARDIS door between Rory and Old Amy was surely meant to evoke fannish memories of the Doctor and Rose's goodbye - a bold move and one that I'm not sure was wise. For me at least, it reminded me that no matter how much I later griped and whined about RTD's inability to leave Rose alone, I was devastated when she was given such a cruel exit and wept like a child, despite my cynical then-boyfriend muttering under his breath about Philip Pullman rip-offs. When Rose left I cried because - despite having spent the entire series complaining about how cutesy and irritating the whole thing was getting - her emotional payoff was earned. In the space of The Girl Who Waited, there was no way the same level of emotional investment could be demanded and I'm afraid I found the last few minutes of whispered self-sacrificing conversation tiring rather than tear-jerking. This could also be down to the fact that whilst I'm prepared to admit Gillan raised her game this week, she's still not got nearly enough depth or integrity to make me feel for her. Unlike Rose (and let's remember that Billie was never greatest actress either) she also doesn't have the help of two series of solid characterisation behind her.

Moffat's characters serve his plot lines, rather than vice versa. This is not an intrinsically bad thing and it has led to some stunning mindfucks along the way, but it does mean that when we get to emotional episodes like this one, I'm not nearly invested enough in his creations to care. Rory and Amy's relationship has gone all over the shop, seemingly on the whim of whoever was writing that week: first it's Mickey-and-Rose Mk 2, then it's "oh shit, guess I loved him all along", then it's the Greatest Love Story of All Time, then ordinary domestic bliss, then back to Epic Romance again. It's a shame, because I was just beginning to like Amy-and-Rory as a team and I feel this lack of consistency may be fatal to my enjoyment of them. Speaking of inconsistency, much of my praise for Arthur Darvill stems from the fact that the writers clearly can't decide the first thing about his character. First he's wimpy, then he's awesome, then he's snarky, then it all changes again. Forget Time Lord-shooting Astronauts, 'Who is Rory Williams?' is turning out to be the biggest mystery of the series. A prime example this week: the same Rory who did the 'I don't flinch in front of explosions' thing in front of Cybermen in A Good Man Goes to War is apparently not only less helpful than a 60-year-old woman in a fight with some slow-moving robots but actually resorts to smashing a painting over its head like something out of Scooby Doo. Writers: this man does not add up.

And speaking of things not adding up, my maths tells me that for a show called 'Doctor Who', the good Doctor isn't figuring nearly as much in the equation as he should. I know I've said this before so I won't dwell on it too much but Matt Smith is the best actor in the show. Use him. I'm not just talking about the strangely small amount of screen time he seems to be getting either - his presence in the actual story lines is negligible. He seems to be taking a back seat to the adventures of his human companions and I object: it's not the Amy-and-Rory Show, it's not even the River Song Show, as much as I would obviously watch that. My guess (and it's an optimistic one) is that the season finale is going to be so Doctor-and-River-centric (in the vein of last series' finale, which really was about the Doctor saving the day with his timey-wimey, story-spinning cleverness) that they're shifting the focus to Amy and Rory while they can. Well, I hope that's case anyway.

Complaints over. As I said, it was brilliant concept, beautifully shot with some very good acting but the payoff just wasn't quite there for me. However, I could just be developing into exactly the sort of crusty Whovian whose favourite thing is needless criticism rather than brown paper packages tied up with string theory, as it seemed like a lot of people really did enjoy this episode. Once again I have high hopes for next week's episode 'The God Complex'. I'm getting a very 'British Horror' vibe from the trailer, what with the M.C. Escher creepy hotel, the specially tailored Room 101 horrors and the return of the Weeping Angels. And David Walliams. And...a minotaur. Well, of course. Perhaps it's best to remember that it's written by Toby 'Being Human' Whithouse, the man who gave us 'School Reunion' and busty fish outing 'The Vampires of Venice', so maybe I won't hope for something too classy. Then again, perhaps a proper good romp (I still haven't forgiven you, Stephen Thompson) is exactly what the show needs right now.

...

To add to my televisual disgruntlement (is that a word? well, it is now), the hallowed Paul and Mary have just made the disastrous decision to get rid of dreamy Rob and brilliant Jason on The Great British Bake-Off. Rob I can understand (although I'm sorry to see him go), as he really did contribute nothing to the world of baking other than hair that had enough product in it to defy gravity but Jason? Jason was great - not just at baking but at his weird pseudo-metaphysical commentary on himself: "Sometimes I think I've got what it takes, and other times I don't. But I hope I've got what it takes."

Ah well. Jason, Rob, we'll miss you. But not half as much as the producers will when they realise their viewing figures have halved without you.

*I have since found out that the episode was, in fact, directed by the same guy who did the unsuccessful 2009 reboot of The Prisoner. Oh, the cleverness of me.