10 Cloverfield Lane

Warning: spoilers are sprinkled abundantly throughout this review

After the original Cloverfield was released back in 2008, mutterings of potential sequels begun emerging pretty fast . Many years passed since those claims were made, however, and nothing ventured forth from the woodwork.

If truth be told, I was never a massive fan of the first film, so when no follow ups emerged, I thought nothing of it. Despite finding the 2008 J.J Abrams produced flick to be a mildly interesting approach to the now abundant found footage genre, it was largely forgettable in the grand scheme of contemporary cinema. 

Nonetheless, on March 11 2016, I was surprised to see a trailer for a J.J. Abrams produced feature that appeared to indeed be a follow up (of sorts) to the eight-year-old first person blockbuster. Gone were the handheld cameras and instead we were treated to what appeared to be a psychological thriller focusing on three individuals living in a bunker after some sort of fallout (originally presumed to be taking place during the events of Cloverfield). Come 18th March, to the amazement of many, the film premiered in the UK.

The surprise unexpected release, the attention-grabbing trailer, and the switch in genre/style, made this a must see. The final film, however, was something of a mixed bag. 

Before going on to moan about the problems this film suffered from, we might as well look at some of the more positive aspects, because they do deserve a mention. Firstly, the acting is first class. Mary Elizabeth Winstead, John Goodman and John Gallagher Jr bounce well of one another. The bulk of the film takes place in a confined space; meaning the three leading cast members have the task of moving the plot forward from start to finish with little to no support from a larger surrounding environment. It also means they have a limited number of performances to react to. Nonetheless, all three possess a chemistry and timing that makes the evolution of their relationships feel interesting, natural and at times, terrifying. 

Hats off in particular to John Goodman, who delivers a performance which could arguable be seen as a career highlight for him. Goodman plays Howard, a conspiracy theory obsessed, estranged father who’s so convinced that a fallout of sorts will take place within his lifetime, that he’s constructed an entire underground bunker beneath his farmhouse in the event of such an apocalypse. 

Goodman saves (kidnaps) Winstead’s character Michelle and tolerates the presence of John Gallagher’s Emmett during an actual Armageddon; managing to jump between protective father figure and psychotic killer with outstanding efficiency throughout. Howard is terrifying, the real monster of this flick, keeping the audience guessing from start to finish about what his real intentions are. The micro expressions, ticks and delivery of Goodman’s lines make the presence of Howard on the whole a terrifying experience. At times, Goodman makes Howard so unpredictable that it can be hard to even look at the screen; unsure and scared to death as to what his next move might be. 

Another aspect which could be considered positive about this film is its use of setting a majority of it within an enclosed space. As mentioned, most of the movie takes place in an underground bunker; resembling that of the hatch from Lost (also a J.J Abrams produced series). Telling a story in such a cordoned off environment imposes limits upon the filmmakers and more often than not forces them to be creative and innovative. 

Whether it's financial, budget, writing, or set restrictions; interesting results are often born out of not having every resource at hand to play with. 10 Cloverfield Lane is no exception; presenting a film that tackles the limited-set dilemma by providing a tense pace, intimately intense character interactions and imaginative action sequences littered throughout (watching the character of Michelle come up with quick-witted ways to overcome whatever obstacles stand in her way at any given moment  are extraordinarily entertaining to watch from start to finish).

With similar regards to the limited set, it also means the film takes an approach which has often been intriguing when it comes to science fiction or fantasy stories. The film is essentially an invasion movie, taking place during a grandiose global alien takeover. Yet instead of spending $200 million on glossy visuals and epic city destruction sequences, the narrative instead focuses its lens on just three people living in isolation during these earth-shattering events. 

A similar approach was tackled in the 2010 movie Monsters; which decided to push the out-of-this-world creatures to the background of the story, focusing all its attention on two characters. It’s a fresh take on an often-clichéd genre; allowing a story to venture down alternative roots and find unique ways of telling a story.

Unfortunately here, the film’s negative aspects inevitably end up overshadowing what could have been a truly great movie. 10 Cloverfield Lane may have marvelous performances, innovative execution and an interesting choice of where the story chooses to prioritize its narrative lens; however after a solid first two acts, the film falls to pieces. 

By the time the film reaches its climax, Michelle finds herself free from the hands of the dangerously deranged Howard, but stranded in the outside world, which even though isn’t infected entirely by a killer airborne virus, is indeed far from safe. It becomes clear that the world has been invaded by hostile extraterrestrials, and Michelle spends the final scenes of the movie attempting to escape an alien ship and a rather vicious creature hunting her on the ground. By the time she manages to flee in an abandoned vehicle, we see our hero driving off into the night to join a group of possible human rebels fighting the conquering E.Ts. 

It’s a lightning paced final sequence which wouldn’t feel out of place in most action based science fiction blockbusters, however here, it’s an utter disaster. The issue is we’ve just gone from a film which at its heart was a thriller about two people trapped in an underground bunker with someone who’s possibly a psychopath intent on butchering them, to a special effects laden action flick in which aliens have descended from the skies intent of destroying mankind.

Such a sudden transition in pacing and execution feels not like a twist (which is how some have described it), but as if the filmmakers have made two completely separate science fiction films and shoddily stuck them together. It’d be a bit like if during the climactic scene of Alien, Ridley Scott decided to randomly strap the final moments of James Cameron’s Aliens onto the back end of the feature.

The entire story is flipped on its head, delivering a bizarre switch in style that makes the whole first chunk of the film feel somewhat pointless. One minute we’ve got a tense thriller - full of interesting character moments - replaced instead with a film that wouldn’t look out of place in a Roland Emmerich film.

What makes such an abrupt and unstable transition even more frustrating is the fact that it could have worked if only they’d ended things sooner. When Michelle first flees the bunker, she looks into the distance to see what could possibly be a helicopter gliding in the background. After a few seconds, it becomes apparent that what we are seeing is not a helicopter at all, but an extraterrestrial vessel scouting the area. Now if they’d cut the scene here and gone to the end credits, maybe they could have finished off by establishing an ambiguity surrounding the story’s larger context.

In relation to the first portion of the film, even though it’s clear something outside is going on – largely established when Michelle and Howard encounter a woman with infected skin trying to get inside the bunker – the narrative’s sudden jumps between Howard talking about an “attack” to Howard being a dangerous individual arguably gives off an enigmatic uncertainty to the larger events taking place in the outside world. This was a nice touch, so to suddenly go to a film about an absolute definite alien invasion that takes away the story’s vagueness really does steal that initial intrigue of what’s really happening above and beyond the bunker.

On the whole, it’s a frustrating  jump that ruins what was for a majority of its run time a great piece of cinema. The idea of taking the Cloverfield name and transforming it into a Twilight Zone type anthology piece about monster stories told from alternative angles sounds like an excellent idea – and still could be with future attempts – however here, we have something good that loses its way spectacularly. 

As much as I want to love 10 Cloverfield Lane for its positive characteristics, I can’t get over this dramatic plunge in quality. It’s a frustrating and poorly judged move on the filmmakers’ behalves, and even though I’ve encountered several reviews hailing the final act as a clever twist, to me it’s the total opposite.

Let’s hope future movies donning the Cloverfield brand name can get it right, but this time round, things sadly went from exceedingly good to profoundly bad.

It’s astonishing how an ending can make or break a film.

Chappie

Plot: In the near future, crime is patrolled by a mechanized police force. When one police droid, Chappie, is stolen and given new programming, he becomes the first robot with the ability to think and feel for himself (summary from IMDB).

Spoilers Ahoy

I might as well state this up front, I really like Neill Blomkamp. He may have a mere three feature films under his belt, but quantity isn't everything, and already his work has struck a cord with me. Originality may not be this director's strongest asset – many of his ideas are pinched from sci-fi concepts tackled during previous eras – however when it comes to his style, he's onto something.

The South-African director's previous two films blended a heavy mix of gritty realism with that of a contemporary video game aesthetic; creating a raw yet fantastical visual landscape for him to bounce ideas around within. His 2009 feature District 9 took real life issues regarding racism and painted it onto a science fiction canvas; exploring this particular topic from an angle resembling a test screening for a non-existent Halo movie. Next up came the 2013 flick Elysium, which brought together elements of Yukito Kishiro's Battle Angel and Square Enix's Final Fantasy VII to tell a story in which the main protagonist must essentially overcome a series of obstacles in order to make it to the next level of a cinematic video game.

Chappie is no different in this respect, as it loves to take numerous old school concepts and play them out in a style similar to something you'd expect to find perched upon the shelves of your local games store. As was the case in District 9, Blomkamp tries to sprinkle the opening moments of this feature with dashings of authenticity, playing out faux-interview montages with several of the film's characters. Such scenes exist to not only imply credibility toward the story at hand, but to also sneak in some crafty exposition dumps informing viewers of what the movie's all about. No more than five minutes in, however, the dummy interview approach quickly dismantles itself in favour of exploring the ideas of yesteryear's sci fi instead. 

From the opening info dumps alone, glimpses of familiar science fiction tropes already make themselves apparent. We have crime-ridden environments paralleling sets not unlike the grimy streets of Paul Verhoeven's Robocop; obedient androids serving humans in a manner mimicking that of Isaac Asimov's I,Robot, and a military assembly of a mechanized police forces taking us all the way back to the good old days of John Badham's Short Circuit. It's an all-star mash up of classic robo-related sci fi fables; revived and remixed inside the realms Blomkamp's video game universe.

This is how the majority of Chappie plays out. Numerous pre-established ideas rebound off of one another, redone and reused within the playground of this narrative (which is essentially the way I've learned to read this director's body of work thus far).

Some individuals seem to have already started attacking this feature for its over reliance on other works of science fiction, although maybe its desire to tinker with older tales isn't as problematic as some may believe it to be. Its decision to toy around within these fictional idea vistas result in a film which isn't afraid to experiment with the nature of the story it's trying to tell; mixing and matching ideas to get the narrative to where Blomkamp wants it to be.

Furthermore, it lets him have fun with the film at hand; blending various visual elements in order to execute action sequences of his own liking. Take the climactic sequence as an example, in which the Moose resembles what appears to be a disused piece of concept art for Metal Gear Solid 4's Gekko arms unit. It's existence within the story serves solely for the purpose of letting the film have an explosive final battle between Chappie and Hugh Jackman's Vincent Moore.

It's a bit like a kid playing with their favourite toys. They may have a Batman action figure positioned in one corner, Spider-Man perched in another and a Millennium Falcon dominating centre stage; all three ready to go head to head in an all out sudden death match. Blomkamp is arguably the Hollywood equivalent of an over imaginative kid playing with their toys, one who's just gone ahead and made a 120 minute movie ending with Johnny 5 battling to death with a Metal Gear Gekko. I can see why some might get catty with such an approach to cinema, but from where I'm sitting, it's jolly good fun.

As I've mentioned several times over already, District 9 and Elysium were both executed in what are best described as gritty authentic video-games. Both films are structured as if they are autonomous versions of a best-seller Xbox title; one's with detailed landscapes of depth surrounding them. Chappie plays by the same rules, yet again creating a colourful and vibrant dystopia; one including luminously colourful weaponry, characters donning flamboyant costumes resembling that of a cos-play convention and props so visually electrifying that they appear as though they belong in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. The larger world surrounding this luminous fantastical narrative has its own historical and social context, one which manages – in much the same fashion as Blomkamp's previous two features – to give Chappie a depth that simultaneously separates itself from this reality and reflects it all in one. The decline in social order, the rise of criminal structures routing their way into the architecture of civilization and the implementation of an artificial intelligence all assist in creating this parallel/familiar reality which encompasses the context of this movie.

Chappie's synth-style score by the ever-brilliant Hans Zimmer, playing along side the vivacious visuals of this gamesque universe, strikes a cord with me in a way neither District 9 or Elysium ever managed to achieve. It's a truly electrifying blend, resulting in the feature becoming what I like to call a Contemporary Eighties flick. What i mean by this is a film which basically couldn't have possibly been made in the 1980s, but feels like it should have nonetheless. Episode two of Doctor Who series eight did something along the same lines; telling a Dalek story which would have fit in perfectly during the mid 80s era of the show, but was a story which could never have been made without 21^st century technology available to assist in the aesthetics of that particular episode. This is what Chappie is. The style nor physical requirements could never have been achieved during that particular decade, however it's a product of such a period nonetheless.

Despite these more positive points, there are also several problems with Chappie as a film. For one thing, the whole authentic faux-interview opening feels slightly pointless and out of place. It initially worked quite nicely in District 9. The subtle transition form pseudo-documentary to third person fiction felt fresh and appropriate when used in that film. Here, however, it serves as nothing more than a cheap info dump trick to explain to viewers what the story's all about.

Which brings me onto exposition in general - it's one of the film's weaker points. Chappie has an annoying habit of providing way too much info-dumping in the form of direct dialogue. Examples being characters explaining in the most overly-detailed manner how they need to find money to pay crime boss Hippo for a previously messed up job; Yolandi's plan to kidnap mech creator Deon so her gang can power them down; and Deon's description of how the moose helmet transfers human consciousness via a remote helmet. It's not that this information isn't important to the plot, it's that it's told not shown. Sometimes explaining story in clear-cut dialogue can work (this ain't no Robert Mckee class), but here the vital info-dumps are delivered so matter-of-factly and so quickly that they are fairly often hard to pick up on. This means when the plot needs to use such information during later parts of the narrative, it has more than likely already been forgotten. To make matters worse, as our Heroes stand around delivering all this plot explanation, the whole business of it feels forced to the point that it's tedious, annoying and obvious that it's exposition. When it comes to the Chekhov's gun principle, it's more effective if the audience can see a gun and not just have some character blatantly declare that “there's a gun over on the wall”.

Next clanger on the list of quarrels is Blomkamp's reliance on yet another one dimensional antagonist. This isn't the first time the director has decided to go for a cardboard cut out baddie, as he's been doing so as far back as District 9 with Koobus Venter. An obvious villian isn't always necessarily a negative character to have in a movie – films and novels have been pulling that trick off since forever - but the whole “angry military brute who just wants to use a giant robot” gimmick is starting to get a teeny bit repetitive in Blomkamp's body of work. For one thing, it doesn't really give Hugh Jackman an awful lot to do in this film, other than storm about in a sulky manner for 120 minutes trying to charm Sigourney Weaver's character – Michelle Bradley – into letting him have the keys to pilot the film's big boss. This movie clearly needs a villain to face off against Chappie, but when you just have an angry ex-military dude stomping about the place because he really wants to shoot shit up with a giant death-machine is a character that grows boring very quickly.

Having said this, however, the transition of Ninja's character from complete-prick to not-as-much-of-a-complete prick is certainly a step in the right direction. It's not perfect – as this character remains more or less annoying from start to finish – however as the narrative rolls on, it is possible to feel at least a tea spoon of sympathy for this dude (to an extent). The existence of such a character suggests Blomkamp is learning to figure out how to give less savoy characters a story arch which challenges their preconceived l moral positions (or maybe this isn't an entirely fair statement; seeing as protagonist Wikus Van De Merwe in District 9 started out as a total jerk before amending his ways).

Final problem with Chappie; the ending. The Avataresque climax – in which most of the protagonists get gunned to oblivion, only to then have their consciousness uploaded into swanky android bodies – felt like nothing more than an ill thought out cop out. Yes, technically this decision wasn't a complete case of deux ex machina, largely because the rules of this neurological transfer are (sort of) explained during an earlier scene with Chappie stealing a control helmet. Only problem is, the explanation is info-dumped via a rapid dialogue exchange between Deon and Chappie. By the time the climax arrives, viewers are hastily reminded these pricey pieces of headgear have a few tricks up their sleeve when it comes to rescuing the deceased; meaning when all those gunned down in previous scenes suddenly skip off into the sunset as happy mechanical people, audiences are left scratching their heads in bewilderment. Basically, it's an annoying cop out. If you're going to spend all that time developing a bunch characters we care for before killing them off in the third act, at least leave the us the emotional punch of such a decision by keeping them dead. Don't reset everything as if it was some sort of shoddy lie to get us to feel sad for a few minutes of screen time. If they're gonna do that, they might as well end by saying the whole thing was a stoned dream. 

All in all, Chappie is a mixed bag of a film, but then that isn't a huge problem here. The film has that familiar Blomkamp style to it, which if I'm honest, still feels like a breath of fresh air. His features give off a vibe as though they were made by a film student donning an outrageous amount of money to shoot their end-of-term project with. This may sound like an insult, but it isn't. It liberates his movies in ways setting these science fiction flicks apart from most of today's other releases. Chappie has this very freedom, allowing it to be a film which can mess around with old ideas, stitch its story together based on the desires of those making it and give its director the ability to design actions scenes that indulge the inner child within.

Such creative autonomy also allows for some rather marvellous moments of uniqueness. One example includes the scene in which Chappie unwillingly assists Ninja in committing grand theft autos whilst demanding his victims “stop stealing daddy's cars”, a moment that is possibly one of the most bizarre yet hilarious five minutes of any film I've seen in recent years. It's difficult to put into words just why it is so great, however its idiosyncratic quality makes it not only weirdly wonderful, but magnificently memorable as well. Another example would be the odd yet hilarious fact that the film's antagonist has a desk only several seats away from the protagonist. Again, words fail to express the brilliance of seeing a muscular Vincent Moore hunched inside an office cubicle while geeky protagonist Deon Wilson works away several desks down.

So whatever, Blomkamp may appear to have a habit of reusing ideas of his own which worked better first time round, has written a script that ties itself in knots from time to time, and creates characters that can sometimes be a real pain in the ass to watch; but that honestly doesn't matter all that much. Things goes frustratingly wrong in this feature from time to time, however the shameless willingness to meander through former science fiction tales in order to tell a story its creator wishes to tell makes Chappie an exciting and exclusive two hours of fun.

Now we just have to wait and see what on earth Blomkamp decides to do with the Alien franchise. Whether it's good or bad, it can't be any worse than the tripe we've already endured from the latter half of that series.

Doctor Who New Series 2.1 - 'New Earth'

Plot – During a visit to New Earth, the Doctor receives a telepathic message sent from a New New York hospital. Upon investigating, the Doctor and Rose encounter an old enemy who's up to no good and discover a sinister scheme happening deep within the hospital's corridors.

The Christmas Invasion established an all new level of confidence within Davies' Doctor Who. Such audacity is what set it apart from that of series one, which was a little more cautious in its execution. It could be argued that New Earth follows in a similar fashion by delivering a story based on the events of a previous episode.

New Earth is a sequel to last year's The End of the World, set 25 years after the events of Platform One. As previously mentioned, The Christmas Invasion was confident enough – and quite rightly so – to use past characters; assuming audiences would be aware enough to know who they were and how they fitted into that particular story. The very same technique is applied here, as both Cassandra, the Face of Boe and the referencing of Platform One from The End of the World are all used within this story. Davies never once feels the need to apply heavy exposition in order to bring viewers up to speed, knowing that most viewers will already be aware of their significance.

As sure of itself as New Earth is, however, there are far more problems with this story than there were last time round. It's not the worst story of series two, but it's far from the strongest.

One of the issues is how straightforward it is for Tennant's second outing as the Doctor. There's really nothing wrong with a business-as-usual episode. To have stand alone romps popping up throughout any series is completely fine, as it assists in keeping casual viewers on board. We don't need epic game changing stories filled with arcs and bombastic moments week in week out, because quite frankly, it would make any given series far too noisy and over the top for its own good. But seeing as this is the first official episode of series two, and seeing as it's Tennant's first proper story since his introduction, something bigger and far more grand is surely deserved.

Firstly, New Earth spends a fair majority of its time pushing the two main protagonists out of the narrative. This worked in the previous episode because it made audiences hungry to see Tennant in action. Viewers had no idea what his relationship with Rose would be like, how he'll confront the villains of any given story and what new characteristics he would bring to the role of the Doctor. By the end of The Christmas Invasion, we were given a colourful – if somewhat brief – climactic sequence showcasing Doctor number ten in action. This worked as a way of ushering in a new era vai the method of withholding its main act, however by the time the end credits arrived we still didn't know entirely what the Tenth Doctor would really be like.

After the Christmas special, the series two pilot should have expanded upon the climax of The Christmas Invasion by fleshing out the Tenth Doctor further. He essentially needed to be at the centre of the stage, confronting obstacles and showing viewers what kind of a Doctor he was. Of course his character wouldn't be fully developed by this point – Tennant was still too new to the role to know exactly how he did and didn't want to play the Doctor – yet this was the moment where Davies should have put this new incarnation into situations where he could begin figuring out what sort of a man he was. It was also the perfect moment to begin establishing and developing his relationship with Rose Tyler. He may essentially still be the same man, but with each regeneration, the Doctor's personality changes in every way imaginable. Rose may be more or less the same as she was at the end of Parting of the Ways (to an extent), but seeing as her co-star certainly wasn't, the dynamics of the relationship between these two protagonists would now be inevitably different. Eventually, we will get to see this altered friendship play out before our very eyes, but for now, Davies believes it best to play it straight for 45 minutes and ignore the cataclysmic events that have recently occurred.

The villain of the story is Cassandra – the last human alive – who managed to survive the events of The End of the World and has since developed the technology to transport herself into other people's bodies. She spends most of New Earth possessing the bodies of our protagonists – particularly when it comes to Rose – in order to infiltrate the hospital ran by the the Sisters of Plenitude. Even though Billy Piper delivers an incredibly entertaining performance as Cassandra-in-Roses-body, the fact that she spends most of the 45 minutes not playing her usual self means we don't get to see the character of Rose interacting with the Tenth Doctor. This hinders their relationship from developing any further, meaning that by the end of the episode, their characters have not altered all that much since the opening credits.

When it comes to Tennant, he does get to spend far more screen time as himself than that of Piper, yet the story doesn't seem to give him all that much to play with. We get a couple of scenes where he roams around the hospital, chats to staff members, expresses concern over patients who are miraculously cured, critiques the The Sisters of Plentitude's hospital for lacking a gift shop, becomes enraged upon discovering the grown patients who've been infected with every illness in existence and jumps for joy after realising he can save everyone; yet there's nothing here that really pushes Tennant's acting skills to their limits. It's an episode where he sometimes gets angry, sometimes gets happy and sometimes gets to skip about saving strangers. There are no grand obstacles which reveals his true character or opens up this Doctor to knew and exciting possibilities. There's nothing at all wrong with Tennant's performance – in fact he seems to be having a whale of a time with the material he's given – it's just it feels as though he's on autopilot, which is strange considering he's not yet had enough screen time to warrant such a formulaic mode.

The beauty of the early half of series one was that Davies used his scripts to push, the Ninth Doctor to his limits and reveal new truths about his past and personality. The End of the World allowed the Ninth Doctor to open up as a character, shedding light on his traumatic past and developing his relationship with Rose further. There was no 'autopilot' mode in that story; instead it was an episode forcing him to express his emotions in a way that helped build toward what defined him as a character. The revelation of the Time War, the death of Jabe and the resistance Rose had toward the nature of who he is as a person all assist in pushing his character into a place completely different to where he was in Rose. In New Earth, we have none of this. All we really get is a happy/shouty Doctor who's not doing anything different to what we had in The Christmas Invasion. Nothing new is brought to the table, making it a rather bland first episode to the series.

Davies' decision to do a frothy romp of an episode doesn't help matters either. The excessive running through corridors, constant body swapping and zip-lining down elevator shafts diverts the attention away from the Tenth Doctor and Rose somewhat. Again, these sorts of episodes are completely fine and are a core part of Doctor Who's existence, however New Earth arrives at a time where the Tenth Doctor is still more or less a blank slate. We need to see how his character works properly before we can do a bog standard tale like this one. A story that focuses on Ten and Rose more fastidiously (or at least to a degree) would be far more beneficial as a follow on from that of The Christmas Invasion.

It could be argued, however, that taking the focus away from Ten and Rose was in fact the right direction to take the show in at this point in time. The Christmas Invasion didn't try to convince audiences as to what Doctor Who now was, but instead told them. Davies' decision to do a business-as-usual story in the following episode could have been his way of carrying on the show without feeling the need to do something grandiose or character-defining straight after the Tenth Doctor's debut. Nonetheless, the decision to put such a standard story at the beginning of an era feels like the wrong place to put it. Two stories in and we still have little idea on what direction the Tenth Doctor's era is headed in.

The second issue with New Earth is its use of retrofitting. Throughout the episode, Davies writes in a number of plot twists that seem to pop up out of nowhere.

One example of this is the Face of Boe. In The End of the World, the face of Boe is nothing more than a fancy creature design who serves no real purpose to the larger story playing out. He's a well-designed alien who sits among a larger group of well-designed aliens. He doesn't even get a line of dialogue in that story. Yet in New Earth, from the moment he's spotted by the Doctor, both Murray Gold's score and Tennant's performance suggests he's an important character who's presence is vital to the narrative. He's a ancient alien who's knowledge stems further than that of the Doctor's. Before the end credits role, he tells the Doctor that they will meet again in the near future and that when they do, he will impart a great secret upon him. There's nothing wrong with the Face of Boe being a grand force of the universe who is somehow bigger than the Doctor, yet the fact that this was never raised in The End of the World makes it feel forced, unrealistic and somewhat random. While in his first encounter he was a fancy prop, the Face of Boe is used here as an important plot piece that will influence the show's narrative in the future. There's no moment prior to this episode where the Doctor realises the volume of this character's importance, instead he just states that he met him on Platform One 25 years ago and gazes at him in awe every time he's on screen. Instead of building toward this change in direction regarding such a character, it feels as though Davies spontaneously decided to make him significant so that he could use this expensive creature design as much as he possibly could.

Another example is Cassandra's character arc. Way back in the days of The End of the World, Cassandra was portrayed as a vain, self-centred murderer who would happily cause destruction in order to advance her own selfish needs. Here, Davies tries to redeem her character by portraying her in a more sympathetic light. There's nothing wrong in doing this, yet once again, Davies fails to subtly thread any kind of theme into her character throughout her screen time which can help her ascend from an evil villain into a reformed individual. Instead, what he does is decides to have the Doctor send her back in time during her dying moments, so that she can tell herself – while possessing her assistant's body – that she's beautiful. Cassandra does mention this event from her past early on in the episode, which does establish the moment before it's played out, yet the whole meaning of that climactic scene doesn't really make much sense.

The whole point seems to be that this was the last time she was ever called beautiful by another. From that moment on, no one satisfied her pride, supposedly pushing her into becoming the vanity-riddled monster that she inevitably grew into. The final scene is executed from an angle of sympathy. Gold's score and the emphasis on young Cassandra's melancholic face attempts to manipulate the viewer into thinking that this is a heartbreaking moment that shows Cassandra to be a flawed human as opposed to a heartless monster.

But the point Davies is trying to make is difficult to figure out. Is he trying to say that Cassandra going back in time and complimenting herself before she dies is the reason why she became a villain? If so, how does that work? If she never went back in time and told herself this, then surely it would just mean the second from last person to call her beautiful would be the last individual to compliment her and would still turn her into a vanity-riddled monster. Or was the point of it trying to show that Cassandra does have the ability to be kind to another? But how does going back into her past and being nice to herself prove this? We can't really obtain sympathy for someone just because they said something nice to themselves. It doesn't redeem her character in any way whatsoever.

Here, it seems that Davies wanted to find a way to justify Cassandra's return. He wanted to give her character more meaning by establishing her in a far more sympathetic light than the last time. Even though the soundtrack and visual execution during these final moments play out in a compassionate and melancholic fashion, the reasons behind why feel so rushed and ill thought out that it comes across as superficial and nonsensical.

New Earth maybe a little too bland for Tennant's first full Doctor Who story and the plot twists may feel as poorly thought out last minute decisions, but there are some positive aspects to its existence which do deserve a mention.

One advantage is just how much Billie Piper and David Tennant seem to be enjoying themselves here. Although the whole body swapping premise means the two leads get to spend less time fleshing out the dynamics of their relationship, Piper and Tennant use it to their strengths. Both of them camp it up to the nines each time they are possessed, they deliver a performance which is highly entertaining and rip-roaringly fun. It helps make the episode far more captivating and helps to show off the chemistry between these two performers. They clearly work well together and aren't taking themselves too seriously; assuring audiences that the Tennant/Piper duo is a marvellous casting choice for the second series.

Their willingness to engage and enjoy the material provided to them in New Earth's script also helps to strengthen the nature of this episode. Even though there are some issues with putting a frothy romp this early on in series two, the fact they are having such a blast during filming certainly helps to make it far more competent and jolly than it may have initially been.

Another advantage to this story is the effort put into the overall aesthetics of the episode, particularly when it comes to set designs. While the production values of series one were nothing short of fantastic, series two decides to step things up a notch. Everything feels far richer and luscious than ever before. New Earth is no exception to this fact. The shimmering marble corridors of the hospital complex, the surreal lifelike costume designs of the Sisters of Plentitude and the grotesque boil-coated make-up of the infected patients make this opening episode a visual spectacle for all to marvel at. Considering Doctor Who was once seen as a show notorious for being supposedly full of dodgy special effects, New Earth – much like The End of the World – assists in pushing such assumptions even further away from the public consciousness than ever before. Such eye candy doesn't redeem any of the flaws which the script seemingly possesses, yet it goes a long way toward strengthening the confidence of series two. Furthermore, it goes to show the love and effort which the production team are clearly putting into this program.

Which is why it is somewhat difficult to attack New Earth too harshly, because for all the issues that this episode has, those involved in making it seem to be working their backsides off in order to create something special. The cast are having a corker of a time and the production team are excelling themselves further than ever before. Sure, it's no game changer of an episode and no one's trying to reinvent the wheel here, but when it's clear that everyone involved is striving to create something as colourful and stimulating as is possible, it's hard to really call it a bad episode.

In many ways, New Earth is a slightly problematic episode. It comes at a time where something different is needed to flesh out Doctor number ten. It's also a story which at times feels rushed and a poorly thought out on Davies' behalf. Having said this, it's also a rip-roaring 45 minutes of camp entertainment which everyone involved seems to love making. Even Davies himself has fun with the script; indulging in reintroducing past characters of his own creation, plentiful quantities of comical dialogue and energetic chase sequences through corridors and elevator shafts. Much like Tennant and Piper, he's having getting a great deal of joy out of penning the story he wishes to tell.

Furthermore, he appears to be in an incredibly optimistic frame of mind during this point of his tenure. He even opts for a more upbeat ending than many of his previous scripts. The decision to save all the infected patients at the end of the episode may have been suggested by Steven Moffat (who noticed that Russell had a habit of including high body counts in his stories), the fact that he decided to change his original ending speaks volumes about the state of mind he was in when it came to the tone of this series opener. It also goes to show that he's not as arrogant as he may sometimes appear when it comes to his work, as instead of rejecting Moffat's statement he took it on board and altered his work in accordance.

Even the use of the Face of Boe can be looked at in terms of such optimism. This character's importance may have been haphazardly retrofitted in at the last minute, yet it also goes to show how much Davies now believes in the future of this program. Last year, the production team behind Doctor Who had no idea whether or not this revived version of the show would exist after 13 episodes. The decision to foreshadow a plot line for a third series (which is when Boe's secret will eventually be revealed) means that the creative force behind the series knows that it will continue beyond 2006. Davies is flirting with the future of Doctor Who beyond that of series two, as he knows its lifeline is far from near its end.

All in all, off to a pretty average start. There are some characteristics to applaud in New Earth, whereas there are also some to gripe over, but let's face it, things could have been far worse for Tennant's second story.  

Transgender Portrayals in Sitcoms - 'Friends' vs 'South Park'

When it comes to comedy, it can be somewhat tricky attempting to discuss the genre from a serious angle. If you see something which you disagree with or find harmful in some way or another, many will simply accuse one of overreacting. Due to the recent complaint culture that has wormed its way into our society – where newspapers and viewers at home will complain to Ofcom whenever a person they dislike says something they find offensive – the problem of labelling those who approach comedy from an earnest perspective as self-righteous fools has been exacerbated somewhat.

The reason for this is because comedians and comedies have often been at the receiving end of this complaint culture for some time now. Newspapers are largely responsible for this outbreak, as it is usually the likes of The Daily Mail who wind people up into an Ofcom frenzy. These attacks from the Mail have so far been aimed at the likes of Jonathan Ross, Russell Brand, Frankie Boyle Ricky Gervais and other stand ups who are notorious for their politically delicate punchlines.

The blame culture grew as the years went on, but when Ricky Gervais begun fighting back a few years ago, many started to see the flaws in complaining about the morality of humour. Gervais said something along the lines of how just because you're offended doesn't mean you're right. He turned the spotlights on those fighting to get such comedians voted off the air; portraying them as self-righteous brats who didn't like the fact that people who said things they disagreed with were making plenty of money by beaming onto their TV screens.

To get angry about comedy is stupid right? I mean it's all just for shits and giggles isn't it? Who cares if politically incorrect things are said at the expense of humour? Surely it's better to laugh at ignorance than use it as a pseudo-justification for violence. Well that's not necessarily true and is far more complex than simply turning an offensive idea into a funny one.

While I don't agree that comedians and other famous individuals should have their television/film appearances halted because they said something that might have offended some and while my support of free speech also stems to entertainment, I still think problems can stem from some types of offensive and politically incorrect content that is converted into the genre of humour. Comedies and comedians should have the right to express daring and often uncomfortable content for the sake of humour, yet there are two different ways of doing this. The first is an intelligent approach which exposes a number of truths about the distressing content being addressed, whereas the second type is a more troublesome form that can have a far more negative impact on society at large.

Type one is the sort of humour that expresses highly offensive material in a manner that questions and dismantles it before the viewers' very eyes. In such situations, comedies or comedians will deliver a scene or line that on the surface looks like something harmful or intentionally offensive, yet under the surface is either judging the upsetting subject matter or sympathising with the individuals or situation that initially comes across as the victim.

In a previous post on this blog, I looked at this approach in the light of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Here was a sitcom which appeared on the surface to be nothing more than a show which strived to seek attention by providing some of the most outrageously offensive story lines imaginable. Racism, abortion, Transgender identities and child abuse were themes that appeared as early as the first season. As the show went on, more sensitive subject matters were thrown into the mix. It would appear that It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia was just trying to be offensive for the sake of being offensive.

If you actually watch the sitcom, however, it becomes apparent from the very get go that we are not suppose to like or sympathise with the characters who are responsible for the bigotry played out on screen. The main cast are a bunch of ignorant fools who are never once perceived in a likeable fashion. Under the hood, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia was actually laughing at the people who are responsible for ignorance and intolerance toward others based on their race, religion, sexuality, gender identity, disability or sex. Audiences were exposed to the true ugliness of prejudice by framing the 'protagonists' of this programme in such a hideous light.

This isn't the only way that comedies or comedians poke wholes in ignorance. There are also ways in which a given comedian/show will use a sensitive subject matter for a punchline, whilst simultaneously using the narrative of that joke/story in order to shed a sympathetic light on the struggles of that specific topic (which we'll explore shortly in relation to South Park).

The second type of approach is one which is slightly more problematic. This is when comedy uses a sensitive subject matter for a punchline, however will do so without giving the topic a moments thought and resulting in an outcome which can deliver very misleading information to those few less enlightened audience members.

Take Roy Chubby Brown as an example of an individual who falls into this second category. To put it as bluntly as it is, the stand ups of Mr Brown are nothing more than far right-wing racist drivel. None of his jokes provide any kind of critique or irony toward the prejudice sentences escaping from his vocal cords. All the audience can get from such material is the idea that poking fun at different races and ethnicities is all fine and dandy. If people believe saying these kinds of things in everyday life is acceptable and that it doesn't affect others who live in the real world, then that's surely going to have a pretty unpleasant impact toward society at large in the long run.

The problem with type two, is that it often takes a subject which some in society are ignorant about and does nothing more than laugh at it. The definition of ignorance is the crux of the problem here. Ignorance stems from not knowing enough about a particular group of people. When individuals don't understand those who they think are different to them, they often become frightened, confused or insensitive toward their existence. It becomes an us versus them mentality, where large portions of society reject and subject a group of people to cruelties they'd never be happy enduring themselves. Oppression and prejudice grow from ignorance, causing problems for those who are ostracised from mainstream society based on their race, sex, gender identity, sexuality, disability, et. Those within mainstream society who've never been subjected to such prejudices take for granted their own privileges. Empathy is often hard to reach and the ignorant won't even listen when it comes to respecting the rights of individuals who are perceived as living on the fringes of society.

When type two blasts onto the screen and cackles at the minorities it's digging its claws into, it does nothing more than celebrate the existence of bigotry. It claps its hands and tells everyone it's ok to ridicule those who are different or ostracised for unjustifiable reasons. It never points out the cruelty or stupidity within these jokes; not caring what harmful forms of misinformation it might be pouring into those less civilized audiences members' minds.

People on the whole aren't stupid however. Most of mainstream society are smart enough to decode the information as cruel humour. I should have probably mentioned this earlier, as I'm only referring to some within mainstream society, not everyone. Most are kind hearted and would never want to bring harm to a stranger, regardless of who they are or what they stand for. Sadly, there are a small handful who will say what they think and act out as they please without once considering the feelings of others. These are the individuals who harass, assault and even kill others who they perceive as dangerous or different.

Such people are poisonous, and it is these people who hold absolutely no knowledge about equality and tolerance toward those they fail to understand. It's not that they have evil thoughts built into their heads, instead they just have a knowledge vacuum which has been replaced by ignorant beliefs. When comedies execute unintelligent jokes and two dimensional stereotypes, they assure the uninformed members of society that there is nothing wrong when it comes ridiculing minorities. They enforce the belief that those of a different race, sexuality, gender, disability, religion, et. are a member of the other who do not deserve the same rights as anyone who fits into the the 'normality' bracket.

Friends Season 7 Episode 22 The One with Chandler's Dad

There was a time when Friends was one of the biggest sitcoms on the planet. Seinfeld may have been slightly more popular in its heyday and shows such as Mash may prove that the history books provided even bigger hits in this genre, however Friends was – for a time – an absolute cultural explosion. The show lasted for ten years and grew more successful as each year passed. If most of the cast hadn't wanted to move on in 2004, the series could quite easily have gone on for as long as it wanted. Pretty much everyone had seen it and its viewing success didn't end after the show wrapped up. Digital channels across the globe spurted out repeats daily. A couple of years ago, there was allegedly enough countries airing enough episode of Friends each day resulting in the show being on air 24/7.

And to be honest, it's quite easy to see why. When the show started back in 1994, the one common feature which helped it stand out among the rest was just how sharp the jokes were. The punchlines were on fire and it's hard to forget 20 years later just how brilliant the writers were when it came to dishing out quality humour. Furthermore, the chemistry between the six cast members really did work a charm. The fact that they got on so well in real life really helped flesh these protagonists out in a way which made us believe they really were six young friends living in 1990s Manhattan.

Unfortunately, around the midpoint of Friends, the show reached its peak and then begun to crumble under its own success. By the time season six aired, the show was struggling to keep itself fresh and funny. The show started to feel old. It had so many episodes under its belt by now that the writers didn't seem to know where else to take the series. They tried throwing in a few arcs about Rachel moving in with Joey, Chandler moving in with Monica, Chandler getting engaged to Monica, Chandler getting married to Monica and so on and so forth. Among the never ending tirade of pointless arcs, the writers tried to jazz things up by turning up the volume up on the 'humour' factor. Suddenly one-liners became a part of every other sentence, the minor traits of each character turned into the sole definitions which held together their now-two-dimensional existences (Joey the dumb womaniser, Phoebe the quirky hippie, Chandler the sarcastic buddy, Monica the control freak, Rachel the lovable fool and Ross the marriage-failing dork) and story lines morphed into zany pantomimes that relied on far too heavily on past references.

The show was a loud mess with no new ideas to bring to the table. They tried everything to jazz up the jokes and by the time it came round to the season seven episode 22, they decided to spice things up by bringing Chandler's Dad into the mix.

Friends have dealt with some touchy issues in the past, yet back in the old days it seemed to do so by starting out in a manner that portrayed the protagonists in the right, only to then go on and expose them for being the ones at fault. Take the episode where Phoebe finds out her younger brother is in love with an older woman. Phoebe spends the entire episode trying to tear them apart. At first, the script doesn't paint her in the wrong at all. Near that episode's end, however, Phoebe tries to manipulate her brother's girlfriend into breaking up with him, yet love takes a hold and the two of them embrace in one another's arms. After a few moments of protest, Phoebe realises she can't chose who her younger brother falls in love with and leaves them be. She sulks out of the room, tying up the episode by keeping her brother happy despite his sister's displeasure. 

The same can be said for Ross and his ex-wife. Even though the early half of the show constantly references lesbian relationships as though their very existence is somehow hilarious, the overall arc takes on a more sympathetic approach. Ross goes from sulking about his ex-wife to giving her away at her and her new bride Susan's wedding.

Sadly, as the show started running out of creative steam, the jokes grew louder and that ironic tongue in cheek attitude faded away. Instead, it was replaced with loud, offensive portrayals which could quite easily be misinterpreted in the eyes of the ignorant.

Before moving on to speak about the episode at hand, I just want to start by adding that the character of Chandler's Dad is clearly not his Dad at all. I get the initial point of the joke. The writers are basically saying that Chandler has a father who looks and dresses like a woman. Throughout the entire show, Chandler has often spoken of his father as a very promiscuous homosexual who seemed to have performed some rather explicit acts in front of his own child. The twist in this episode was that the father Chandler was talking about all that time was not just a gay man, but a gay man who looks and dresses like a woman (there's also a problem here of labelling homosexuality and Transgender identity as one of the same thing, which is hugely problematic in a number of ways, however I think that's a problem which I'll have to expand upon in a future post, as I haven't the space to flesh it out here). Yet despite the initial intentions of the episode's punchline, the fact that they cast a woman to play this character clearly presents on-screen that of a transsexual woman. This character lives full time as a woman, has breasts and speaks in a female voice. The writers may have wanted a 'man in a dress', instead they ended out with someone who visually reflected someone who had obviously been on hormone replacement therapy and was now a living full as a woman. Therefore, for the sake of decency when it comes to this character, I'm going to refer to her in both female pronouns and as Chandler's second mum.

The episodes containing Chandler's second mum weren't necessarily written as a cold hearted attack on the Transgender community. Instead, the main problem here is that the writers seemed to pen the three episodes she appeared without realising what they were writing. They didn't consciously attack those who don't conform to their birth assigned gender, instead it was more of a case that they had absolutely no sense of awareness toward Transgender individuals (or, at the very least, they didn't realise they were writing a bunch of episodes which could have quite a negative impact on such a community).

As mentioned above, from the way each episode was presented, it would seem that the writers initially penned Chandler's second mum as a self-identified man who just so happened to look and dress like a woman. Yet what was presented on screen indicated quite clearly to viewers that this individual was almost certainly a Transgender woman living full-time as her true identity.

However the visual representation did not match the joke been played out, which largely centred around laughing at punchlines consisting of the protagonists misgendering Chandler's second mum and even at one point having Phoebe make reference to her genitals. Never once do the writers critique those who refer to her in male pronouns and instead audiences are invited to laugh at all the callous comments made.

Furthermore, the episode fails to portray the hurt and problems such comments have toward those who don't conform to their birth assigned gender. Chandler's second mum never once calls a character out or appears to be in discomfort at what is said to her. I'm not suggesting the episode would have been better if she flinched or argued every time Chandler threw the Dad word at her (many Trans people do go through everyday life trying to ignore such comments), but the fact she looked as though she couldn't give shit implied to audiences that these sorts of attitudes don't affect the Trans community in any shape or form.

The truth of the matter is that misgendering is an incredibly hurtful and problematic truth which the Transgender community have to bear every day. There are some cisgender individuals out there who either don't know that referring to a Trans person's birth assigned gender is offensive, or just don't care. In a world where sex and gender are almost always taught as being one of the same, most either believe that sex defines gender or use it as a justification for identifying others in a manner which causes great distress.

Misgendering is a subtle way of saying to a Trans person they're not allowed to be who they are. It's a sneaky way of saying you ain't fooling no one mate! Cisgender people never know what it's like to grow up living in a gender that doesn't reflect who they are internally. It's difficult to empathise that there are those who don't conform to the gender circle they were thrown into as a baby. Trans men and women go through many difficult years when it comes to transition and coming to terms with who they are. They take risks by losing the rights that cisgender people often take for granted, venture out into the wide world where they are often the victims of bigotry and often endure incredibly complicated medical procedures in order to combat their dysphoria. Not only do many Trans men and women make a number of physical risks, but they also have to battle through an ocean of psychological ones too. It can take decades for Transgender individuals to accept their internal identity and begin to express it externally. Coming to terms with and comprehending such truths help the individuals in question ascend from an identity which has caused them years of internal agony, into one that chimes with their inner self. To be referred to in pronouns and names that reflect the gender they've spent years moving away from forces them into a position where they are told they can't be who they are. For a person to tell someone who's gone through years of internal and external struggles that they can't be identified in their rightful gender can be an act which has dangerous consequences. Not only is misgendering hurtful, but it can also lead to suicide in some cases.

So let's look at Friends by pretending we are ignorant for one moment. Imagine you are a person who's never met a Transgender individual before. Sure, you've heard of them, but you don't really know what the whole thing is really about. You may have seen a woman on Jerry Springer banging on about how she use to be a man, or you may have heard about a Big Brother contestant who's a transsexual, but that's about as far as it goes. Then here we have Friends, where a character comes on screen who looks and lives as a woman. All the characters around her are calling her dad or sir and the audience are whaling with laughter. The writers may be intending to write a story about how one of the character's fathers dresses in women's clothes, yet how are we going know the difference between this character and those from Jerry Springer and Big Brother?

So from this ignorant perspective, what can we possibly learn from these episodes with Chandler's second mum? It would teach us that it's perfectly ok to talk about Trans women's genital's openly and address them in male pronouns, that's what. It trivialises and makes fun of attitudes that cause great harm to many.

Friends was watched by millions upon millions of people, meaning those who knew very little about the Transgender community - yet enough to associate Chandler's second mum as being Trans - would receive harmful misinformation which may help strengthen the belief that misgendering is acceptable and in no way harmful.

Some (but of course not all) will walk away from this episode thinking that all Trans women are self-identified-gay-men-in-dresses that are more than happy to be referred to in pronouns relating to their birth assigned gender. Which, of course, is far from the truth. 

South Park Season 18 Episode 3 The Cissy

As mentioned toward the start of this post, there are also comedies and comedians out there who approach sensitive subject matters in a much more knowledgeable manner. One way of doing this is by using a touchy topic as both a punchline for the episode whilst simultaneously shedding light on the injustices and pains brought about by such ignorance.

Although some took offence to the recently released The Cissy from South Park's 18^th season, it can be argued that the episode's subject matter of Transgender people and the prejudices they receive when it comes to using public toilets was presented in a manner which fits firmly within this approach.

From pretty much the start of the episode, Matt Stone and Trey Parker establish that they have a clear understanding toward the nature of the subject matter they are dabbling in. They even go into detail by explaining what the term Transgender means (Cartman: I'm not comfortable with the sex I was assigned at birth, so I'm exercising my right to identify with the gender of my choice), the meaning of the world cisgender (Mr Garrison: It's the politically correct name for people who aren't transgender. If you identify with the sex you were born with, then you're cis) and the negative affects the term normal has on those who don't conform to society's beliefs regarding gender-and-sex-being-one-of-the-same-thing (Mr Garrison: Saying "normal" is extremely offensive to people who aren't in that [cisgender] group). Not only is there a clear awareness toward Transgender identities, but the early scenes of the episode even take time out to explain these facts to its audience. Already, we are in a completely different territory to that of Friends.

It's quite easy to see why people took this episode the wrong way. Even members of the Trans community found The Cissy to be unacceptable. This is most likely because on the surface, it would appear that the episode is suggesting Trans people have it quite easy when it comes to using the preferred bathroom of their choice. Considering that using public bathrooms is a huge problem for many Trans people in modern society – where they are often attacked or refused access due to some believing they should use bathrooms based on their biological sex – it is very easy to misread the episode as nothing more than an attention-seeking cartoon that is stirring up an incredibly sensitive and delicate debate.

The episode opens with Cartman expressing his anger at having to use the boys' toilets. He's sick of having to wait in line while all the other guys use the toilet before him, so he decides to declare himself Transgender and insists on using the girls' toilets as a result.

At first sight, it would appear that the episode is implying Trans people use their gender identity as a means of exploiting the system in some way. Not a very safe message to give off at a time when the debate on Transgender rights surrounding public restrooms is a hot topic. However the nature of Cartman is he's a moral vacuum that everyone watching knows is an ignorant monster who will only ever claim to be a minority in order to advance his own selfish needs. Via the use of Wendy and the exposition delivered by Cartman and Mr Garrison on Transgender matters, audiences are clued in on the basics of the subject, plus their awareness of Cartman's anti-moral stance within the show immediately makes them aware that what he's doing has nothing to do with the reasons behind why Trans people use the bathrooms which reflect their identity.

Several scenes later we find out that Randy Marsh is also doing the same thing at his place of work. In this secondary plot, however, it also transpires that Randy is secretly the 17-year-old pop star Lorde, who produces most of her music in the bathroom at work and sends them off to her record label. Again, the plot starts off with an idiotic character (who again audiences identify as someone who comes up with extremely poor and careless ideas) exploiting what they assume is a fool-proof loophole toward a more convenient toilet break.

As the episode moves on, Cartman (now identifying as Erica) is offered the chance to have her own special bathroom which keeps her separated from the other less comfortable students. Although this initially comes across as offensive at first, the story goes on to reveal the complexities of gender identity and shows Stan trying to figure out what it all really means to be a boy or girl. He starts to see that the man-woman binaries are not as clear cut as he's been brought up to believe and even though the episode doesn't explore this in great detail, it does open up the idea to audiences.

It is during Erica's plot line that Matt and Trey also decide to subvert the prejudices that Trans people often receive when it comes to using the bathrooms matching their identities. Even though the subversion is initially triggered by Cartman – the notorious moral vacuum of the show – it still manages to flip the oppression on its head; making the perpetrators of such acts the victims for once. This a common trope in South Park which has popped up in numerous past episodes (see With Apologies to Jesse Jackson for another example). This acts as a sort of how do you like it? trick where the bullies become the victim. What better way of getting the ignorant folks to empathise with the pains they cause.

The episode even ends by having everyone use whatever bathroom makes them most comfortable, whilst ostracising the transphobes (known here as Cissies; a play on both the word cisgender and the trans-misogynistic jibe sissy) to their own segregated toilet (Principal Victoria: Anyone who has a problem sharing a bathroom with people who might be transgender will have to use the special designated bathroom designed to keep them away from the normal people who don't care). The message? If you're intolerant, then you should be the one's pushed into the corner. Not only is this a humorous flip on the head, but it is also a strangely satisfying answer when it comes to addressing the problems some have regarding such a situation*.

The secondary plot where Randy becomes Lorde is where the episode's heart lies however. Again, the episode starts with a fool of a character trying to get away with using the women's toilets, but soon turns into something completely different. The scene where Lorde is told she will receive her own bathroom so that the cisgender women will no longer have to share a toilet with her is absolutely heartbreaking. The entire scene sides wholeheartedly with Lorde and frames the woman complaining as the one in the wrong. The hurt in Lorde's eyes when she's told people don't want to share a bathroom with someone like her exposes the pains and suffering that dehumanising individuals in such a way causes.

After a distraught Lorde is told the news, she returns home and begins presenting as Randy again. It is known for Trans people who receive such forms of prejudice (which again empathises their birth assigned gender) to sometimes respond in such ways. Misgendering, as I've mentioned, is a subtle way of transphobes telling Trans men and women to stop being who they want to be because it doesn't match their own ideas of sex and gender being intertwined. To show Lorde reverting back to her male identity exploits one of the ways in which misgendering can affect Trans people.

But fear not, as Sharon – Lorde's wife – steps in to deliver a monologue which is one of the most heartfelt speeches in the show's history:

SHARON

                                      All right. Do you know why young people like Lorde

                                      so much? It's because she's something different. Kids

                                      have had pop music artists flash tits and crotch in their

                                      face, and most kids are actually smart enough to be sick

                                      of it. Lorde represents something in all of us, the truth that

                                      wants to be heard. If I could talk to Lorde right now, you

                                      know what I'd tell her? I'd tell her not to let people change

                                      who she is. I'd tell her that if people are making fun of her,

                                      it's probably because they lost touch with being human.

                                      I'd tell her to keep on doing what she does, because when

                                      someone's not allowed to express who they are inside, then

                                      we all lose. That's... what I would say to Lorde.

It's hard not to look at this monologue as anything other than a speech on how being yourself is all that matters in this world, no matter what obstacles the ignorant members of this planet place in your way. If that's not a celebration of non-conforming gender identities, then I don't know what is.

While Friends told a story without possessing any knowledge, understanding or sympathy toward the subject matter they were laughing at (a subject that they probably didn't even realise they were addressing), South Park told one by both expressing a great deal of awareness toward the topic and shedding light on the injustices that are brought on by oppressing people who don't conform to gender/sex exceptions. South Park explores Trans issues regarding public restrooms in a highly sympathetic and thought-provoking matter, whereas Friends just cackles at someone who clearly doesn't identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. If you were someone who knew nothing about Transgender individuals and the real world problems which cause them such distress, which of these two shows would be the most enlightening?

While some forms of humour poke fun in a heartless manner, others provide insightful and alternative perspectives that can help people think about an issue they may never have initially given a moments thought toward.

*Of course, the best solution would just be to get rid of gender assigned toilets full stop and have one restroom for all, but that's just a matter of opinion of course.