Doctor Who New Series 1.13 – 'The Parting of the Ways'

Plot - In a bid to rescue Rose, the Doctor sends her back to her own timeline; choosing to deal with the invading Dalek fleet by sacrificing both his and the Earth's existence. Any remaining hope now rests behind the meaning of the 'Bad Wolf' enigma.

For the preceding twelve episodes, Russell T Davies and the rest of his production chums have set out to create something which can work in more than one way. First off, the 2005 revival of Doctor Who acts as a thirteen part pilot; testing whether the show is able to hold ground among 21^st century culture. Second of all, it acts as a taster series; giving its audience an idea of what Doctor Who could be like if only it was accepted within contemporary society.

Therefore, the show has been given a distinct shape to its overall structure. Even though the creative force behind this era of the show had no intention of wrapping things up after parting of the ways; there’s almost a feeling that the show could have quite easily called it a day here and everything would have still all worked as a thirteen part mini-series. Yes, we end the episode with David Tennant grinning like a mad puppy as he talks about Barcelona, but this still where the plug could have still been pulled if all went south.

How the show achieves this shape is by building up the scale and force of the series as it marches forth. When the series begun with Rose, it was a speedy romp which showed an average London girl falling out her world and into the madness of the Doctor’s reality.

As the episodes continued to air, Rose slowly fell further and further away from the rules of the reality which she initially spent 19-years living in. By episode five, she had returned to her world; only to discover that the Doctor’s realm of aliens and monsters had taken over what she thought she knew. No longer could she go back to her normal day to day life. Aliens had taken control of downing street, spaceships crashed into Big Ben and shop window dummies could bring cities to a standstill.

By episode six, Rose was a fulltime companion. She had official become a part of the Doctor’s universe; granting her the invitation to meet yet another icon from this strange and vast universe. After her encounter with the Dalek, Rose was accustomed to the rules and functions of Doctor Who. So much so, in fact ,that she even started to attempt to break such rules; resulting in her faux pas in Father’s Day.

Yet now, after the gradual build up from soap opera reality to the world of the science fiction, the series goes all out for its final episode. The series has gradually been building up to what it is meant to be for some time now. After twelve long weeks of genre clashing, rule bending and world falling; viewers suddenly find themselves watching what can be described as the 21st century's most Doctor Who episode to date. There’s no more genre clashing here; it’s the Daleks invading Doctor Who.

One of the most interesting aspects to this episode, is its tendency to show things which everyone had thought they’d seen the Daleks do, but had in actual fact hadn't. Take the Dalek inside the TARDIS for example. Never before had the show depicted an onscreen Dalek inside the console room. Furthermore, the series had never once managed to show an entire fleet of Dalek ships on the scale which this episode manages to achieve. Such a fact is more likely down to the fact that the previous show never had the liberty to throw CGI at the screen whenever it needed some visual assistance, but nonetheless, here is the program doing something which we were convinced we’d seen the show do on screen, but had actually only been a witness to in our own minds.

A potential answer to this might be down to Russell T Davies’ love of comic books. One thing which is clear about the Davies era of the show is it’s obsessive attitude toward the visual tone of each series. Every episode looks like its own mini-movie; possessing their own visual styles and cinematic qualities. Davies even use to hold tone meetings for each episode; where he’d bring all the separate departments together and push them into working toward meeting a set goal with each of the episodes which were set to be filmed.

Davies’ adoration of comic books, topped with his fondness to keep one eye on the visual qualities whilst writing his scripts, could very well explain why this episode possessed the aesthetic qualities which it has. The episode looks similar to one of the classic Doctor Who and the Dalek comics; in which huge armies of Dalek fleets were splashed across the various pages. Such comics also made heavy use of the Dalek emperor; who makes an onscreen return here for the first time in four decades.

And the episode does look like these comics. It’s audaciously colourful (well...bronze), atmospheric, drools over the emperor Dalek at every opportunity and embraces its liberty to finally put as many Daleks as it likes on our screens. The Doctor Who comics (and novels for that matter) were once the only way in which anyone could depict vast swarms of Daleks on screen. With the 21^st century’s uprising of computer aided technology, however, this is a liberation which the mother series can now also embrace.

Much as is the case with the current Moffat era (which we’ll get on to in due course) the Davies period of the show possesses a number of tropes which pop up throughout the duration of his time as head writer. Series one played out these tropes in a much more watered down manner than the following three series ended up doing, yet nonetheless, they are still very much in play here.

Firstly, there’s the idea of the Doctor being responsible for his own destruction. In this situation, the Doctor will be responsible for a history-altering event which will create a vacuum within the timelines. Sooner or later, some evil enemy will fill up that vacuum and inevitably be responsible for that said Doctor's regeneration. Tennent’s Doctor ends up sowing the seeds of his own regeneration in the very next episode, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

The Ninth Doctor is also responsible for creating a vacuum which will lead to his regeneration; creating this said vacuum all the way back in The Long Game. As I mentioned back when talking about that episode, the Doctor’s actions during that story resulted in the news networks of planet earth completely shutting down. Due to the malnourishment of information, mankind stopped overnight. This gave the Daleks a chance to step in and build up their army by luring in and converting a planet of information starved and helpless humans.

The Doctor was the catalyst which helped to spark the events of this story into existence; therefore being responsible for the series of events which lead up the Bad Wolf resolution, therefore inadvertently forcing him to regenerate into his tenth body.

The second trope which pops its head above the water during The Parting of the Ways is the idea that the Doctor needs a companion in order to stabilise the narrative of the show. Without such a character to stand by his side, the Doctor will either make huge errors or slowly loose grip of his morals.

Early on in the episode, the Doctor chooses to send Rose back to her own timeline; saving her from the monstrosities of the Dalek invasion of 200,100. As Rose tries to deal with the situation of accepting her permanent return to present day Britain, the narrative occasionally jumps back to the heart of the narrative which takes place on Satellite five. Without Rose, it’s apparent that the plans and actions of the Doctor are falling to pieces. People are mercilessly gunned down, Lynda is murdered, Jack falls victim to a Dalek ray gun and the Doctor decides to drop all of his morals and fry the entire earth population in order to bring down the Dalek fleet.

From the collapse of events, one thing is clear; the Doctor needs someone by his side. Without the likes of Rose Tyler; the Doctor is unable to be the hero figure that he's so commonly associated with. He becomes a victim of the surrounding story. People die, moral becomes lost within the chaos, and ultimately, the Doctor loses.

And lose he bloody well does. All becomes lost. Jack and Lynda are dead, the Doctor’s defenders have all been gunned down in cold blood, the Doctor is willing to fry the minds of billions of helpless humans to stop the Daleks surrounding him. And he gives up. He sticks his hands in the air and admits that he can’t do it. The Daleks have won. The Doctor can’t save the day this time.

Meanwhile, back in 2006, the narrative is making a third trope apparent. Not only is the Doctor useless without his companion, but his companion is unable to revert back to her previous life. Rose has spent nearly thirteen episodes now, spiralling down a rabbit hole of madness. She’s learned methods in order to cope with the chaos of the Doctor’s universe. She’s fallen out of time for twelve months, broken the [forever changing] rules of the narrative and learned to participate in obstacles which no man or women could ever dream of facing. She’s no longer a member of the soap-opera genre; she’s a Doctor Who character in many ways.

This is how the episode works. Everything is in a state of unbalance. The ex-soap opera character is lost in a world of normality, whilst the day-saving hero is unable to function without someone to prod him in the right direction. Separated across time, the story of Doctor Who caves in on itself.

But before the episode sees itself out, all is restored in the narrative. In fact, things are restored in quite a literal sense, because Rose not only manages to return to the future, but she also looks into the time vortex; essentially becoming a temporary demi-god who can disintegrate Daleks, resurrect Jack, willingly spread the words Bad Wolf through time and space (well that’s that mystery solved then) and put everything back to [almost] the way it all was.

This is an issue which will only get worse as each series finally comes to pass during the Davies era. Because you see, the thing is, Davies has some staggeringly strong points, but at the same time he has his weaknesses (but then who doesn’t?).

Firstly, Davies is one of the most television-savvy producers in the UK. Not only does he know the workings of many television shows which have been released during the past 20 years, but he’s also a master at efficiently bringing together different departments in order to execute the shows he works for. This is why Davies was able to act as the headwriter/executive producer of Doctor Who, micromanage a full series of Torchwood and commission and entire series of The Sarah Jane Adventures all at pretty much the same time; whilst current head writer Steven Moffat struggles to get more than eight episodes of Doctor Who on our goggle-boxes each year.

Secondly, Davies is incredible when it comes to characters. He’s able to take ordinary people and make them extraordinary. This is a technique which shines in Doctor Who; as Davies takes convention soap-opera characters and builds them up into science fiction heroes. It works, it’s wonderful and it adds an element to Doctor Who which the classic series seemed to lack considerably.

Davies creates characters who are so wonderful to watch that it helps to make the show engaging and emotionally stimulating. You genuinely care about the outcome of these people. If a character is in mortal danger, then it can at times be genuinely terrifying to experience.

His weakness, on the other hand, is his tendency to try and go as epic as possible with his stories (particularly series finals), only to go ahead and write himself into a corner. Like many of his later series finals, The Parting of the Ways builds and builds and builds until a point where the viewer simply doesn't know how on earth the Doctor is going to get out of the situation he’s trapped within.

The crux of the issue here is, that Davies doesn't seem to know either. Which is why he often ends up going for the dreaded reset button; having Rose sweep in and save the day with her newly obtained magical TARDIS powers.

Except it does sort of work here. Ok, it’s still a slight cop out when it comes to saving the Doctor from certain death, but it does still result in the Doctor's death. As he willingly absorbs the time vortex from Rose's mind; he is forced to save his existence via regeneration. The only problems which can stem from such a moment however, is if the rules for that set piece magically spring out of thin air . Usually, if you want an important plot point to come along and change the direction of the story, it is usually effective to feed it into the narrative prior to that particular significant moment.

This is why the whole super-Rose things sort of works here. Because it turns out that she’s the Bad Wolf. The phrase has been scattered through time in order to lead her back there. It’s a nice little paradox arc in which Rose shapes her own destiny with two words. Ok, so it’s not great, and it does flag up another problem about Davies, in which his story arcs are just random phrases uttered once every few episodes (he might as well have used the words ‘Fried Chicken’ and the arc would have still worked in more or less the same way. Only less enigmatic).

But the rules regarding the idea that the time vortex will burn Rose's brain if he doesn't take the bullet for her - so to speak - just feels a little out of the blue. We did indeed see the heart of the TARDIS during Boom Town – when Margaret Slitheen stared into it and requested that she be given a second chance at life – yet the fact that it turned up at the ass end of episode eleven gives off the skeptical impression that it was retrofitted in for the sake of the final minutes of episode thirteen.

The whole ‘looking into the heart of the TARDIS’ scene feels quite lazy. It’s there to help Davies wrap up all the conclusions which he needs to arrive at before the credits begin to role. He needs to explain the Bad Wolf; check. He needs to kill off all the Daleks; check. He needs to bring captain Jack back so that he can star in his own little spin off; check. He needs to force Christopher Eccleston to regenerate into David Tennent; check.

Yet like I say, this type of ending does sort of work here. But there’s a reason behind this. Firstly, at this stage of the story, it seriously doesn't matter about the mechanics of how this part of the episode plays out. Seriously, unless you’re dissecting The Parting of the Ways for academic purposes, or because you’re an overly enthusiastic fan, this part of the story is all about the emotion. Viewers don’t give a shit about the reset button. They know that they’re moments away from saying good by to Doctor no. nine and hello to no. ten. This is a huge moment in which a new generation are going to see how the series executes one of the show’s most iconic and important transitions. The Doctor is going to regenerate and that’s all the audience really cares about at this stage.

Which is just what happens. After a heartfelt farewell from the ninth Doctor, a beam of light blasts from his limbs and head; revealing a completely new man in his place. After thirteen episodes; the story of the ninth Doctor is over and ten is about to begin his [considerably longer] on screen journey.

Series one turned out to be nothing short of a cultural success. When the show begun back in March 2005, no one knew whether this revitalisation would really take off. This was simply a test to see whether or not this show could still work. It died in 1989 and managed to keep itself on life support with a series of novels, audio plays and a poorly thought out TV movie. The idea of it becoming a part of the mainstream conscious once again was difficult for some to comprehend.

Such nerves held by the creative team goes a long way in explaining the overall tone of this series. It’s clearly a well-designed and expensive show. The visuals were top notch for their time, the cast were carefully chosen and the quality of each story was impressively executed. Just by looking at an episode, one was able to see that this was a well-crafted piece of work, in which great levels of love and effort were put into the making of it. Yet it still felt a little insecure about itself.

The show did weird and peculiar things, but it still stepped lightly as it did. Furthermore, the choice of Eccleston assisted in providing the show with at least some level of gravitas. Eccleston was a well respected actor who’d starred in a number of Hollywood roles. When things go too weird, the knowledge that Eccleston was the figure at the centre of that weirdness grounded these situations considerably.

Likewise, the show did not feel comfortable in referencing the old series in any way shape or form. To avoid any confusion, Davies and co decided it best to continue the story of the Doctor by not looking back. It was officially announced as a direct continuation of the classic series; but never once did they feel it necessary to explicitly reference the stories or characters of previous eras.

In conclusion, Doctor Who in 2005 was big, bold yet still somewhat shy. It was a bit like one of the world's most beautiful drag queens on her first night out in public. The show didn't know what it could get away with just yet. Nor did it feel content enough to start looking back on its own mythology. It had two purposes to its existence. It wanted to show the world what Doctor Who could be like in the 21^st century and it aspired to get wanting it again.

Of course we all now know that the show succeeded in doing this on a phenomenal level. The program is now the center of British culture and has even managed to land on American soil. The show is colossal and it’s very much aware of its own success. As the years go on, Doctor Who will grow to become staggeringly more confident in what it can do; it will happily throw all kinds of references to its own history; and it will celebrate its own tendency to be weird and different from anything else that exists in popular culture.

From series two onward, Doctor Who will become a colourful and confident crown jewel for the BBC. Yet here, we have something slightly different. The potential is all there, the show just needs a bit more time before it can audaciously come forth and execute such audacity.

Overall, series one is bloody charming in its ambitions. It’s a brave run of episodes; desperate to be loved by the people whom its made for. The fact that it was loved makes this series all the more delightful to look back upon. 

Doctor Who New Series 1.12 – 'Bad Wolf'

Plot – It's the year 200,100. The Doctor, Rose and Jack awaken to find themselves trapped inside a series of deadly games which have been inspired by early 21^st century television shows. Something sinister is working behind the back drop of humanity, which all falls back upon one word; Bad Wolf.

Finally, we're here. After eleven 45 minute mini-movies and the reinvention of a British cultural icon, the final story in this new series airs its penultimate episode. Regardless of 2005 Doctor Who being the return of a show which lay within the shadows of mainstream culture for over a decade, the first series still managed to rack up a considerably large fan base during its run. A fan base who would, by their very nature, follow the show religiously and read into the text with fastidious eyes. Furthermore, the series was going out in an era where DVD box sets were all the rage. Russell T Davies even mentions in the introduction leaflet to the series one box set, that if the show failed to make a come back, then at least he would have the DVD to keep him company.

The obvious predictability of a fan base with attention to detail, topped with a DVD box set which would warrant repeat viewings of all the episodes, Davies and co decided to install an overrunning story arc into the first series. This was done with two words; Bad Wolf.

From my understanding, this was initially an experiment during the early planning stages. Davies would sneakily plonk the word into numerous episodes and see whether any of the production team noticed these cheeky little Easter eggs knocking about the place. Whatever the original reason, it was eventually decided that these two arbitrary words would take on a larger meaning within the overall narrative of the series. Naturally, viewers caught on to the words, and as soon as episode twelve's title was revealed to be 'Bad Wolf', well the fan boards starting filling up to the eyeballs with theories.

The words laced throughout the series built up an aroma of curiosity around this episode. Seeing as it was named after the biggest Easter egg which this series had to offer, people were expecting to get 45 minutes of answers and revelations which would shed a heck of a lot of light on its enigmatic presence.

Which is what makes the opening moments so interesting in my opinion. The series starts by giving us a recap of one of the most forgettable episodes of the series; The Long Game. Seeing as the story for this episode was quite weak, such a recap doesn't take long at all, and after a couple of 'previously' shots, even a Doctor Who virgin would have pretty much gotten the gist of that story.

The flashback to The Long Game already serves to throw the audience off guard; particularly dedicated fans to the series. Yes, ok, so the phrase Bad Wolf did pop up during this episode, but what in the name of Frank Sinatra has this got to do with the overall meaning of the arc? Was there something huge that everyone missed in that episode? What is the significance of that particular story? How's it going to tie in with the final Christopher Eccleston story? These were the sorts of questions which such an opening forced the viewer to muse over. It was unexpected, which made it a rather brilliant move.

Because that's when Doctor Who is always at its best: when it throws you off guard, showing you something which you don't expect. That's one of the many reasons as to why the show has always been such a staggering success. When it first begun, the concept of an elderly gentleman who traveled through time and space threw its audience off their balance. They didn't expect it. It was strange and alien and stuck within their minds. If we go in to Doctor Who and expect something, only to then discover that what we expected was right all along, then the show isn't doing its job properly. When we convince ourselves that an episode is going to go down one route, only to find that stumbling down a different one entirely, well that is when things get bloody well exciting.

And then the show goes and does it all over again; spiraling us down yet another rabbit hole of uncertainty. This is done when the 'previously' sequence cuts to a '100 years later' caption, followed by the Doctor waking up inside a version of the Big Brother house.

Initially, the use of Big Brother comes across as highly irregular, as well as slightly ridiculous. At times, it can be troublesome to pin point what exactly Doctor Who is. And to be fair, there's probably no such  thing as a stone cold definition to this show. It's a billion and one different things which has been forever changing and  reshaping itself for 50 years now. A parody of contemporary mainstream television, however, is about as far from an overall definition to Doctor Who as one could possibly get. 

As you allow for the weirdness in this choice of direction to take its course, however, it begins to reveal something rather interesting about the episode in question. The decision to throw Big Brother into the story succeeds in carrying out yet another characteristic which Doctor Who has always been rather brilliant at executing: the ability to mesh highly dissimilar ideas together.

In the past, the hybridization of elements has often been carried by colliding multiple genres into one another. During the Philip Hinchcliffe era of the series, this was done by blending multiple film plots into the narrative of Doctor Who. Here, however, the series has taken a string of icon mainstream programs – including itself – and slammed them into one another; creating an peculiar and arguably unique idea out of the resulting debris.

The strangeness and newness of the episode is pushed even further into the foreground, as the story decides to milk this program hybridizing by also throwing a futuristic version of The Weakest Link and What Not to Wear into the mix.

The What Not to Wear scenes are a bit pointless in all honesty. As was the case during the previous episode, Captain Jack Harkness is still pretty much left with little to do in this here. The back story to his character, which was flagged up briefly during the Steven Moffat two-parter is by now completely forgotten; whilst the enigmatic con-man persona is nothing more than a vague memory. The charm and charisma is still very much there, yet that's about all there is to him. Jack has gone from the mysterious secondary companion to the flirtatious-yet-empty TARDIS stowaway in less than two episodes.

Essentially, the What Not to Wear sequences - in which Jack tries on some different outfits, gets stripped down to his bare flesh, is threatened by an android who wants to chainsaw his face off and conceals a weapon in a rather revealing area – is pretty much written into this episode to provide as a space for Jack's character to play in whilst the Doctor and Rose get on with the larger story at hand. The Doctor's entrapment in the Big Brother house results in him pushing to find out what the heck's going on. Rose's failure to win the Weakest link results in the Doctor discovering the ultimate question behind the games. Jack's scenes, on the other hand, only serve to provide him with a weapon which doesn't get a chance to be fired until the following episode.

In regards to The Weakest Link, however. Davis uses the rules of this program's structure in order to create an intriguing new obstacle for Rose to overcome. Here, she's thrust into a deadly re-imagining of the show where she must win the game in order to survive. This is a rather fun and interesting idea. Instead of giving Rose a standard bog eyed monster to leg it from, she's instead imprisoned inside a culturally recognized show from her own timeline.

Not only is the collision of Doctor Who and The Weakest Link so marvelously bizarre, but the character of Rose is completely aware of the insanity contained within this idea. Soon after she realizes that she's trapped inside a futuristic version of the Anne Robinson television series (with an actual robot Anne Robinson), she begins to play along; playfully attempting to answer questions revolving around events which occurred long after her own time line and joyously shouting the answers to questions which loosely relate to adventures which she's previously had with the Doctor (there's also the first mention of the word Torchwood during these scenes; which will become Series 2's equivalent to the Bad Wolf phrase).

Rose's willingness to play along with the game reminds me of a theory which the eight Doctor's companion - Sam - comes up with during the Lawrence Miles Novel; Alien Bodies. Sam believes that travelling with the Doctor is a bit like trying to continue functioning whilst paralytic drunk. Suddenly the way the world works different to how it did prior to intoxication. In order to carry on functioning, you have to learn to adapt to the new rules and obstacles that this strange new reality provides you with. The willingness to co-operate with the mad world of extreme intoxication is much like travelling with the Doctor. Suddenly, the rules you understood yesterday no longer apply, so the only way to deal with the sheer oddness of his life is to just go along with the madness and make up a new set of laws to abide by.

This is essentially what Rose is doing here. By now she's been apart of the narrative of Doctor Who for long enough to recognize that when fresh and spontaneous events spring out from nowhere, she has no other choice but to just go along with the whole thing.

Naturally, when Rose discovers that her life will be terminated if she loses, the tone switches instantaneously. By this point, she's aware of the danger which her present situation presents. This isn't just another bonkers moment, but a monster waiting to incinerate her from existence if she's unable to apply herself to the game at hand.

And inevitably, she loses. Much like in World War Three, Davies teases the audience with the possibility of killing off one of the main characters. Only this time, he actually provides us with the on screen death of that said character.

Once again, as was the case in World War Three, logic makes us aware that Rose isn't going to die. It is pretty much clear by this point that the death of Rose Tyler is not the direction in which this show is headed in. The audience knows this by now. They've figured out the rules of this particular thirteen-episode run. Yes, the rules could change later on down the line, but as it currently stands, the companion isn't going to bite the dust. But with all the program collisions which have been taking place during this episode, the show's in a state of strangeness and uncertainty. The introduction of Big Brother and The Weakest Link have revealed just how easy it is for this show's narrative to unravel itself. It can reinvent itself and steal from different shows at will. Nothing stays the same and the rules have no fixed limits. Plus, they did kind of show Rose's disintegration on-screen, which further suggests the fragility to a companion's mortality.

What further enhances the idea of the present companion dying is the fact that the Doctor spends a large portion of this episode running around with a woman who possesses a number of tropes which qualifies her for the role of a potential future companion. Lynda Moss is young, reasonably bright and keen to spend time with the Doctor. Not only does she tick a number of the boxes for companion status, but the Doctor also fancies the idea of having her on board the TARDIS too.

Naturally, the setting up of Lynda as a future companion is just one big fat lie. Not only is she callously murdered in the following episode, but there's also a nugget of information – buried under the surface of Davies' script – which foreshadows her inevitable failure to become a future companion. “You're too nice” declares the Doctor, “From what I've seen of your world, do you think anyone's going to vote for nice?”

Of course, the Doctor is referring to the rules of Big Brother here. The general public don't vote for 'nice' people to win such shows. Yet despite this being a rule of reality Television, remember that Doctor Who is currently in a position where the reality television format has been blended into its own narrative. The rules of Big Brother's format could quite easily apply in this reality for a temporary period; lingering ever so slightly into the following episode in time for Lynda's departure.

So yes, Lynda dies and Rose is fine. Rose was not killed when she was zapped by the Anne Droid, but was  teleported over to a Dalek fleet which has been hiding on the fringes of Earth's solar system for a considerable amount of time.

That's right, it turns out the Daleks are behind the whole thing. There's certainly some comparison here to the John Pertwee story The Frontiers in Space. For those who may not know, The Frontiers in Space was a third Doctor story in which the Master was allegedly hypnotizing two advanced civilizations (the Humans and the Draconians) into waging a war with one another. The major twist of this story occurs when it transpires that the Daleks were indeed the real menaces behind such a manipulative scheme.

Such a plot twist could have worked pretty well here. The idea that a mysterious force is making the human race participate in brutal reenactments of 21st century game shows, only to have that force turn out to be a Dalek fleet is an idea which could have played out in two distinct ways. It could have been a surprising plot twist for viewers who were unfamiliar with the initial Pertwee story, whilst simultaneously being a pleasant hat tipping (or rip off) for old school fans.

It could have worked like this, except they decided to go and spoil the plot twist during the very end of the previous episode. The 'next time' trailer - which played before the end credits of Boom Town - revealed the Daleks in its final shot; pretty much giving away the game before Bad Wolf even had a chance to air.

Which really is a pain in the neck, because this episode goes out of its way, at times, to gradually build up the climactic plot twist. It hints casually that the Daleks may be involved (one example being a camera reflection loosely resembling the outline of a Dalek shell) as well as throwing in all kinds of red herrings along the way.

Yet the whole build up was ruined a week earlier by that stupid next time trailer. This is not the first time that the next time trailer has diminished the impact of a future episode. Aliens of London also had the same problem. After that episode's cliffhanger placed the audience in a state of concern for the well being of the show's characters, the next time trailer scuttled along and pretty much assured us all that the Doctor and co were going to be just fine and dandy in the following story.

The only time they managed to get the next time trailer right during this series was at the end of The Empty Child, where they chose to wait until the end credits had finished playing before showing the following episode's clip.

But to be fair, this isn't actually a fault of the text in and of itself. The episode holds out well on its own. I like Bad Wolf, I really do. The problem here is the fault of external texts spoiling the core text. Both the next time trailer and Davies' decision to whore out the Daleks as a way of promoting the series final were the reason behind this blunder. If you came to the episode without being a witness to these two facts, however, then I'm sure the twist would have worked rather nicely for you.

Regardless of my overall satisfaction with this episode, however, there's still one element of disappointment to the whole experience. I'm specifically making reference to the promise of the Bad Wolf story arc. Because there really are no answers in this episode. Ok, so I'm unnecessarily throwing my toys out of the pram here - as they do indeed answer this question in the following episode - yet there's still an issue with the fact that they chose to name the episode after this arc without bothering to actually address it properly.

The words Bad Wolf pop up once in this episode, the Doctor gets a bit suspicious about it's persistence, only to then brush it off his shoulder and getting on with the main story behind this episode. The fact that they named the entire episode Bad Wolf, only to go and mention it so briefly, is a bit of a pain in the backside. It almost feels cheeky; as if they just named it Bad Wolf as a shameless ploy to get bums in their seats.

Or maybe I'm just nitpicking. Who cares. The episode was good. Furthermore, the next time trailer at the back end of this one is so thrilling it pretty much makes up for last time's blunder. 

Philip Sandifer

When it came to sitting down and watching the classic era of Doctor Who, I experienced great difficulty in doing so. There were a number of reasons for this. Firstly, there was the fact that a majority of the stories were hugely dated. I don't mean this in the sense that I thought the special effects looked a bit pants. All special effects date with time and I had long grown accustomed to visuals which didn't match today's state-of-the-art standards. No, what I mean by this is the overall narratives and story execution felt considerably different to what I had become use to. The stories of the classic era were a lot slower in their pace than the post-2005 revival and often spanned between 4-7 episodes to play out (during the first six seasons of the show, some stories streched even further than this number). No matter how hard I tried, my attention span just wasn't fit enough to keep up with such narrative lengths.

The second problem I suffered when trying to catch up with the prior four decades of the show which I had learned to love was just how staggeringly different the whole experience was. In 2005, Doctor Who wasn't yet the confident extravaganza that it would soon become, but it certainly felt as though it knew what it was doing. By the time David Tennant came along, it was so sure of itself that I found it difficult to find another program which was this confident and in control of its own destiny. When you look back on the episodes which aired in 1963, the show is nothing like the brash spectacle that it would one day become.  It was almost impossible to look at the TARDIS control room and honestly believe that the frail elderly gentlemen at the console was the same leather jacketed alien who ran off in time and space with that young blond girl who once had a hit single called "Honey to the B". Then when the Daleks popped up, were we really suppose to believe that the bullet melting beast in Van Statton's basement was really a member of those wobbly pepper pots who couldn't even move from their own base in the original Terry Nation story? None of it made any sense to my none-cultured mind.

I made eight attempts at watching classic Doctor Who before giving up. It just didn't stimulate my mind in the way that the new series was able to. I never became excited or engaged in what was going on in any of it. But then Philip Sandifer fell into my life, and suddenly, I started to get it.

So, for those who don't know, Philip Sandifer is an writer who graduated with a PHD in English. Like many in today's economic climate, Sandifer struggled to find work with his admirable qualifications. He now makes a living by producing a series of Essays on his blog; originally titled TARDIS Eruditorum (his blog also contains a series of essays titled The Last War in Albion which is an intriguing and exceptionally detailed exploration of the British Comic Industry; focusing particularly on the "magical war between Alan Moore and Grant Morrison").

TARDIS Eruditorum is a continuing critical history of Doctor Who from the 1963 series, all the way up to present day (though it will be ending with Matt Smith's departure on the 25th December 2013). Not only does Sandifer explore the historical and cultural phenomenon of every Doctor Who story in their own self contained essays, but he also focuses on a colossal number of the spin off novels, television series and audio plays which have been released alongside and in between the mother show.

TARDIS Eruditorum furthermore makes heavy reference to the practice of psychochronography; the study of physical spaces and their impact on personal, social and cultural spaces. The concept of psychochronography is based - if my understanding is correct - on the idea that individuals and societies possess an internal landscape which is known as ideaspace. This ideaspace is built up, both personally and communally, based on the memories of fictional narratives which we've consumed over the years. With the assistance of psychochronography, we can meander through this internal ideaspace, exploring the memories of both our personal lives and those which have occurred publicly within the time periods in which they were released in.

I've talked about the idea of memories and film/television experiences intertwining and impacting the memories of one another on this blog before (though I've yet to comment on how they've impacted the larger aspects of the public sphere) and I'm almost certain that all these ideas have stemmed from Sandifer's writings. Which is one of the reasons why I felt the need to write up a brief post on him here. Because I have noticed that an awful lot of the ideas which crop up in the content that I've produced thus far have indirectly been shaped by Mr Sandifer's own work.


But the fact that I've accidentally pinched a few concepts from Sandifer' blog is not the only reason why I have written about him. I'm also writing this as I am keen to inform others who may not yet have come across this person's work. Because it is the very reason why I managed to finally get into the classic era of Doctor Who; a fact that I am hugely grateful for.

As mentioned, I had experienced many failed attempts to finally jump on board and appreciate what the 1963-1989 series was doing, and it was thanks to TARDIS Eruditorum that I was finally able to overcome this hurdle. The subjects and ideas which Sandifer raises in each essay assists in opening up a doorway in my mind which allows me to see and understand the classic era in a way which I would never have been able to do with my own thought process. Like all great studies of film and television, he is able to make you see content in new and exciting ways. His writings up on the new series also helps me to view the show that I learned to love in a unique and fresh way; warranting each and every episode a further viewing.

I'm still learning about the classic and wilderness era of Doctor Who. The size and complexity of the series is so vast in scale that I doubt I'm even half way toward knowing all that I will be content in knowing with regard to this show. Much like the hugely ambitious About Time series by Lawrence Miles and Tat Wood, this blog is one of the most stimulating and entertaining ways of brushing up on the history of this series.

When I finally start putting more effort into my film/television blog, I am planning on focusing more on detailed episode-by-episode explorations of different television series which I have learned to love over my lifetime. I will start up by attempting discuss all the episodes of the post-2005 series and then hope to move on to look at the series from 1963, right on through into the wilderness years. If I do stick to my promise, then I will have TARDIS Eruditorum to thank for all of this (though I do plan on trying to come up with new ideas; as opposed to just shamelessly ripping off what another blogger has already had to say on the show).

TARDIS Eruditorum is a riveting read which I cannot give enough praise toward. Furthermore, if you like the blog, then I highly recommend popping over to Amazon to purchase the TARDIS Euriditorum ebooks. Hopefully you'll find them as beautiful as I did.

Fear and Inspiration: the Peculiar Blend of a Childhood Film Experience

E.T. The Extra Terrestrial is a film which had a truly fascinating affect on my psychology as a young child. It kindled two very opposing emotions within my mind which seldom stem from a single experience. On the one hand, E.T. traumatized me. That’s not even an exaggeration. I could have been no older than five years old when I first saw the 1982 Steven Spielberg classic and the whole experience had some seriously horrendous effects on the proceeding years. The opening shot, where the camera pans down on a set of evergreen trees, only to instantaneously jump to a shot of a dark alien ship surrounded small aliens was a horrible sight for my infant eyes. Even the gloomy score by John Williams which accompanies the shot of the aliens who stalk the forest was too much for my young mind to take. I couldn’t stand it. Seriously, it was one of those moments where I realised that I was unable to un-see that which I had just seen. Those haunting images were berried within my mind forever and there was nothing I could do about them.

Then there was E.T. himself. Even to this very day, if I unexpectedly see a photograph of that tubby little fella, I jump straight out of my skin. This is quite odd, as I no longer have a fear of this particular fictional creation. In fact, I think he’s quite a cute little chappy. But whenever a shot of him pops up in front of me, my emotions will sometimes whisk me back to a time where that face caused great night terrors for me. 

People laugh these days when I admit of my fear toward Spielberg’s science fiction classic. They can’t understand why I was so frightened of this little splodge of an alien, but when I say the film had traumatising effects on my day-to-day life, I really do mean it. I clearly remember that every time I saw an evergreen tree at night, I would begin to tremble uncontrollably; I simply refused to go upstairs on my own; I hated one of my cat’s meows because it loosely resembled E.T’s scream and one time, when I was on holiday in Greece, I ran from my parents because I saw a dustbin that look a little bit like his head. 

There are even behaviour patterns that still exist today. Two examples which I can think of off the top of my head is the fact that I have to sleep with a light on and that I cannot keep the curtains open as soon as it grows dark. These habits occurred straight after I first saw this film. I was convinced that if I turned my light off when I went to bed, then E.T. would light up the room with that glowing red heart of his. As for the window, well I fooled myself into believing that if I left the curtains open after dark then it would allow E.T. to scare the living shit out of me by pressing his squidgy head against my window and screaming uncontrollably at me. 

Fear and trauma are not the only effects that this film had one me as a child however, as the film also helped to inject a sense of wonder into my mind. It’s very bizarre to think that the very same film caused me both horrific nightmares and wonderful dreams at the very same time, but it honestly did. The film was a magical story about a young boy who managed to find friendship in the most unlikely of places. 

Even at the age of five, I was a pretty darn lonely child. I didn’t have many friends at school and I was in desperate need of someone to spend my time with. Isolation played a big part in the earlier parts of my life. I had loving parents, but they weren’t enough. I wanted friendship, but simply couldn't find it. I was an odd kid, and the other children in the playground were not taken by such a character trait. 

Before watching E.T. I use to fantasize about meeting a robot who I would run off into the country side with. It was a bit of a weird fantasy, but it was there, nonetheless. I didn’t like anyone at school, so the idea of an android friend seemed oddly appealing to me (also, I remember seeing an advert on television about a little girl who ran off with a robot. I think she ventured off into the sea with it or something. Anyway, if anyone knows about that advert then please help me find it. Seriously, I’m convinced that I made it up in my head, but I wont be happy with until I know for sure!).

Eventually I watched E.T. and amongst all the horrors and scares of that long necked creature, I managed to relate to the film’s protagonist. Elliot, like me, was alone and in need of a friend. He was a kid who was locked off from his family. He didn’t get on with his siblings, his mother failed to understand him and his father had ran off to Mexico. None of this happened to me, but I still felt locked off from the world as a young infant, so I forced myself into emphasizing with Elliot.

As always, Spielberg hams up the fantasy angle of this film very much so, making the whole story appear as though it is something of a dream. Everything is beautiful, romantic and down right lovely. Spielberg’s fantastical aesthetics, intertwined with my overly nostalgic remembrance of this story creates a fond memory of a time where I found friendship through a work of pure fiction. 

It was a lovely, fantastical tale of friendship which warmed my heart and then broke it by having Elliot and E.T depart from one another. It was wonderful, but at the same time, as I have already mentioned, it was downright horrifying. 

Now lets just stop to think about this for one moment. This was a film which gave me night terrors for almost all of my childhood, but was also a film which helped me feel less alone during a majority of that very same childhood. That’s about as nonsensical as a man finding happiness by marrying the person who persistently makes him feel like shit. It just doesn’t make sense, that a film managed to warm my heart and make it jump out of its skin all at the same time. It’s a weird mixture of lovely and nasty; blending into something hugely unique. And unique it bloody well was. 

The hybrid sensation of fear and wonder clashing head on gave the film an enigmatic quality which no other experience has ever brought on in me. E.T. was a right old puzzle of a feature for me back in the mid 1990s, but I’m honestly grateful for having experienced it. It just goes to show how wonderful and complex the human mind really can be. To think that something managed to both scar and support my childhood is an irony which I enjoy having had. It’s a complex irony which brought on a selection of incredibly unique and interesting feelings in me. 

E.T. The Extra Terrestrial is one of those films that will stay with me for a very long time. The impact that the film had on my emotional perception of the world is one which is far too exclusive and infrequent to merely forget about. 

So how do I perceive the film with my now ‘adult’ mind? Well, the experience is pretty much the same as it was for me as a child, minus the whole trauma bit of course. E.T. is no longer my interpretation of the devil. In fact, he’s quite a cuddly little darling as a matter of fact. When I watch those opening scenes, I no longer see a group of savage aliens, but a heard of alien explorers; intrigued by the flora and fauna of our world. When Elliot pulls open a sheet of tall grass to reveal a screaming alien, I don’t see a monster trying to scare me to death, but a frightened little child who's light years from his home. When I see that tiny creature hobbling toward Elliot’s bed in the middle of the night, I don’t see the most terrifying life form in the universe, but a friendly little animal coming to say hello.

As for the wonders of a young boy making friends with a young alien? Well, all those themes are still very much there. They never left me and that’s wonderful. But without the added terror on top of them, it has made the climactic departure of these two creatures even more heart-breaking than I ever remember it being. I can’t help but watch those final moments with my mind of today without a tear coming to one's eye. It really is one of those beautifully tragic moments of cinema. Two friends, who were born stars apart, managed to find one another and enrich both of their lives. It’s beautiful and to see them depart from one another is outrageously sad. 

These days, I often wonder what Elliot and E.T. are up to now (not in real life of course, but in their own fictional reality). Did Elliot manage to find friendship with other humans, or did he become a social recluse after his encounter with an extra terrestrial? Did E.T. ever get to return to earth, or was his family forever traveling from star to star, refusing to return to past worlds? Did Elliot and his siblings ever reconnect with his estranged father, or did he end up loving Mexico far more than his children?

Who knows, but then Spielberg went and made an interesting comment in one of his documentaries for his 2005 film War of the Worlds. This was were Spielberg mentioned that he liked to think that the killer aliens from his version of the film were from a planet that belonged within the same galaxy as E.T’s home world (so not mars then) which pretty much suggests that from his point of view, the events of E.T. happened in the same reality as the events of this version of H.G. Well’s science fiction classic. If that’s the case, then Elliot’s fate probably consisted of him being turned into a ball of heat ray induced ash, along with his mother, his brother, his sister, his estranged father (along with all his Mexican buddies) and all of those other kids who ignored him back at school. As for E.T? Well I take it that his family were on the run from the very same aliens who more than likely tried to fuck their world over too; meaning that they either died out for trying to exist amongst the vacuum of space for prolonged periods of time or were caught up and killed by the same murderous aliens who attempted to wipe out mankind.

Well if that’s the fate of Spielberg’s 1982 classic, then he’s pretty much fucked my childhood over in the way that he managed to fuck up the childhood’s of countless Indian Jones fans back in 2008. The man just doesn’t know when to stop, does he?

Doctor Who New Series 1.11 - 'Boom Town'

Plot - The Doctor, Rose and Jack land in Cardiff, where they reunite with old friend Mickey Smith and old foe Margaret Slitheen.

The eleventh episode of this series is an episode more memorable to me than I ever would have expected it to be. This is a money saver story, existing to bump the overall episode count up to thirteen per series without blowing away too many of the BBC pennies in the process. Seeing as the next two episodes would be the final story starring Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor, Davies wanted to hold back as much capital as was possible in order to give him a grand and memorable send off. The inception and execution of Boom Town, therefore, was purely common sense from an accountant point of view.

Boom Town is set in the centre of Cardiff City; a location which just so happens to be where the BBC Wales studio is located. Seeing as the story was also set firmly in the present day, this meant that Russell and his gang of BBC employees had to do nothing more than walk out the front door with their filming equipment and get on with the job. To make life even easier for the BBC accountants, Davies also decided to bring back a monster from an earlier episode; saving them the hassle of having to redesign another slimy baddy for the shoot. 

This reoccurring monster came in the form of Margret Slitheen, one of the surviving baddies from Aliens of London/World War Three. The sudden return of Margaret really was an interesting move for Davies to make, because it almost gives off the impression that he assumed this monster would be a series favourite. The idea of this diabolical invention ever becoming a villain that warranted a second story just weeks after its debut now seems absurd, however in fairness to Davies and co, this episode was penned and filmed long before anyone had been able to express their opinions toward the Slitheen; meaning that they had no idea just how naff the audience would find them.

To slate this episode for the use of Margaret Slitheen would be a tad unfair, however, because I actually found this episode to be really enjoyable. Seriously, Davies does actually utilize Margaret in an interesting and (dare I say it) somewhat challenging way. She’s not simply some two-dimensional episode nasty who spends the next forty-five minutes stomping after the Doctor (well, she sort of does), but is actually given a chance to develop as a character in her own right. 

Near the start of the episode, Margaret is revealed to have become the Mayor of Cardiff and has initiated the construction of a nuclear power plant right in the heart of the city. At this moment, she’s still up to her old murderous tricks, as is quite apparent when she lures an investigative journalist into a restroom area and plans on slaughtering her. But suddenly, the soon-to-be victim mentions that she is soon to have a child. Margaret stops her unmasking process and begins to question the girl about her unborn child. Eventually, Margaret tells the girl that she will be some time; allowing her to escape the claws of her murderous scheme. Margaret’s decision in this scene begins to suggest that there’s more to her than was initially established. Whilst in Aliens of London/World War Three, the Slitheen family were understood to be no more than selfish murderers, yet here we are introduced to a character with more complexity than previously established. Margaret can feel empathy for her victims. If you say the right thing to her, then maybe she will let you go. There’s something bizarrely nice about this scene. It’s sort of... well... sweet…

Margaret may very well have let one of her victims back out into the big wide world unharmed, but in the Doctor’s eyes, she’s still a criminal. The Doctor spots an image of Margaret in a local news paper and takes Rose and Jack (now a newly recruited companion of  the docs) along to capture her. After a couple of bouncy chase sequences, Margaret is captured and becomes the Doctor’s prisoner. Suddenly, the direction of this episode begins to become even clearer. This isn’t going to be an episode about the Doctor, Rose and Jack trying to stop Margaret, but instead an episode about Margaret stopping the Doctor. She is his prisoner and somehow becomes something of a victim.

The episode then proceeds by asking questions about the actions of the Doctor himself. He is not going to kill Margaret directly, but he's adamant to take her back to her home world, where she is wanted for execution. The Doctor doesn’t care about the rules and does not change his mind. Just as soon as the TARDIS has refueled on Cardiff’s rift energy (more on that shortly), he plans to whisk her off back to her own world where she will suffer a brutal and agonizing death. Like all life forms who are in danger, Margaret tries to talk the Doctor out of taking her, raising some very interesting points as she attempts this. The most staggering point she makes is the idea that the Doctor is an unstoppable force, adamant on shaping the lives and worlds that he encounters. He will choose who he believes is good whilst attacks those who he’s convinced are evil. Margaret is – based on his own moral compass – an evil person who should be punished for her actions. The man is an unstoppable force, capable of making his desires become a reality. He’s a man who can bring races crashing to the ground, send beasts running into the shadows and manipulate history simply with the power of his own words. In many ways, he's a force of influence who can quite easily get his own way. Personally, the Doctor has a problem with Margaret's morals, therefore she will be killed at the hands of her species.

And there is the problem with our time traveling hero. He’s too powerful for his own good. He can and will get his own way, simply based on his own ideas of good and bad. Yes, Margaret is an evil murder who has been responsible for ending the lives of many. But then the Doctor is also solely responsible for mass genocide. He has made it quite clear that the end of the last great time war, which he sulks about so frequently, was brought to an end by him and him alone. He was the one who wiped out two virtually indestructible races (The Daleks and the Time Lords). Like Margaret, he is responsible for slaughter. Some may argue that his act of double genocide was an act which saved the wider universe, but then who is to say that killing one to save a hundred is a good thing. There are many people who find such an outlook immoral and barbaric; but who is able to stop the Doctor when it comes to his own choices? 

Margaret might spend the majority of this episode as a prisoner and may also let one of her victims live, but she’s still not as nice of a person as I’m making her out to be. During a rather marvellous scene where the Doctor takes Margaret out for a last meal (or a date, which ever way you look at it), the last surviving Slitheen plants a whole series of sneaky traps to try and bring harm to him. Yet he's much too quick for her crafty ways, resulting in a heavily comedic and lighting paced sequence that sees the Doctor and Margaret having what can only be described as a dinner date duel. It’s subtle, fast, fun and hugely entertaining. For an episode with a miniscule budget, this type of ‘action’ sequence fits perfectly into the overall humdrum aesthetic of this story.

The idea of Margaret been a more emotionally complex idea is one of much brilliance. The fact that she also questions the Doctor’s moral superiority makes this episode even more of a pleasure to watch. However by the end, Davies decides to diminish the quality of what he has set up by cheating his way out of the story. Cheating will become a narrative technique that Davies will become notorious for using during the next few years and gets more persistent at it as time goes on. Here, he decides to solve the Margaret/Doctor dilemma by giving Margaret the chance to start her life over from scratch. Quite literally in fact, as she manages to transform into an egg at the end of the episode. This means that the Doctor can take her back to her home world where she can be raised to become a better person. Suddenly, the shackles of the Doctor’s choice are removed from his shoulders and he’s free to not have to face the burden of sending this alien to her death. This sort of ending really is a disappointment. Davies was on an absolute role with the theme of this story. For him to build it up to such a level and then slam his finders down on the dreaded reset button really does drain away great levels of quality from this story. This isn’t to say that I don’t like Boom Town. I do like it. But it could have been so much better.

The Doctor and Margaret’s philosophical chin wagging sessions are not the only events which take place in this episode of Doctor Who, however. Come to think of it, there is actually a fair bit going on in this low-budget episode filler. I assume that due to the fact that such a low cost episode frees up room which would have otherwise been spent on having the Doctor and Rose wander through marvelous sets and participating in some prolonged special effects sequence. Suddenly the script has to fill up its time slot by finding other none-expensive things to do with itself. Such a goal can be obtained by having a writer focus all of their energy on a set of characters. Lucky for Davies, this is something which he happens to be quite splendid at doing. 

This is where our dearest darling Mickey Smith pops back into the picture. The last time we saw Mickey was back in World War Three, during his ascension from the annoying idiot to the man who saved the world. Since the events of World War Three, Mickey has started to stitch back together the ruins of his life. Rose is no longer the obsession of his existence and regardless of him still fixating over the Doctor’s life, Mickey now has his own private life; girlfriend included. Rose is not a happy bunny about this fact and becomes enraged at Mickey’s decision to live a life away from her. I thoroughly enjoy this sub plot to the episode, as it once again begins to address the fact that after the Doctor and Rose sail off into the stars, real life still ticks away back on planet earth. The fact that Rose is not happy with this fact shows that she's still struggling to understand that both realities co-exist alongside one another. When she travels into the far past and future, present day London continues to tick on by. Rose’s old world can’t just sit by and wait for her to decide to stop traveling with the Doctor, but this is a truth which our young companion must still accept.

Here, this rejection toward change works in a positive way for the character of Rose. She’s young and naive. It’s understandable that she’s angry that the world doesn’t cater solely for her. She’s only nineteen years old, so such traits are only expected. Sadly, this angry, unaccepting Rose Tyler will begin to play an even larger part in her character during the second series. During series two, she becomes jealous and bratty when the world doesn’t go her way on frequent occasions. The frequency of her childish behavior in series two is not helped by the fact that Davies writes it in a way which suggests that her attitude is completely justifiable. Whilst in Boom Town Rose’s distress at Mickey’s romantic liaisons make her character flawed in a charming way, such behavior will inevitably go on to soil her character. But the slope from the likable and naive Rose to the spoiled and whiny brat is a problem which I will address later on down the line. Here her anger works fine and really does resonate with a lot of emotions which people experience in their day to day lives. Sometimes we do get angry and upset if things don’t go our away. Humans can be selfish creatures and can sometimes get upset over the happiness of others if we ourselves are not sharing a piece of that happiness pie. Rose doesn’t want to be with Mickey, but instead wants him there as her emergency safety net. Consciously she would never think or want Mickey to be miserable, but deep down she wanted him to wait for her, just in case she changed her mind.

Like with the Doctor and Margaret’s philosophical sparring, this sub plot is one of the stronger aspects of this episode, yet Boom Town is far from perfect. The main problem here is Jack. Not Jack as a character, but Jack as a character with little to do. I really do like Jack as a companion. He’s a real breath of fresh air in the series and I always find it better when there is more than one companion on board the Doctor’s TARDIS. Jack is a smart, flirtatious bowl of charm that really does help to light up the show like a Christmas tree. He’s great, but here he does pretty much sod all. He spends either a majority of time stuck inside the TARDIS or following the Doctor and Rose around whilst helping to explain the plot. He’s reasonably entertaining in this one, but he’s just sort of wasted. Seeing as this episode had the freedom and room to focus on the characters, Davies had no excuse to neglect him so heavily. He should have been as central to the plot as the Doctor, Rose and Margaret. 

One final interesting aspect to note about this episode, is just how memorable and iconic it is in the context of post-2005 to pre-2010 Doctor Who. The story is set slap bang in the middle of Cardiff bay, right underneath the bay’s fountains. Less than two years after the airing of this episode, the Cardiff bay will become the home of Doctor Who’s spin off show; Torchwood. To add to this, the screenplay of Boom Town focuses on the idea of a rift in time and space being centred right in the middle of Cardiff. The rift is a rip in reality which, although mostly harmless, can have devastating effects if it is abused or neglected. The Doctor uses his TARDIS to suck up the energy of this rift (which also fuels it) and helps to stop it from wiping the city off the face of the earth. The rift will play a massive part in the first and second series of Torchwood; burning its presence into the mind of frequent viewers. Boom Town is not only a low-cost episode filler, but strangely enough, it is the birth of semi-separate television program. 

In conclusion, this is an enjoyable and charming little episode which was wonderfully written and executed. My memory could be incorrect here, but I think that this is the last small episode that Russell T Davies will ever write for the show. He will pen one or two experimental pieces in the upcoming years, but never will he sit down to write a small drama piece like this again. It’s quite wonderful really, because this is the last time we have a tiny scaled episode before the show suddenly finds itself bowing down to the pressures of popularity. Just remember, that in one years time, this show will be  huge; meaning that no matter how small the show tries to be in its scale, the people writing it will be very much aware of how big the program they are writing for actually is. 

Not only is Boom Town beneficial for the show’s bank account, but it is also a much needed relaxation period for the viewer too. I say this because in the following episode, things are about to go from miniscule to epic. It’s nice to have a breather once in a while, but the next story will go all out on its audience, as it is the first part of a two part story which will inevitably be Eccleston’s last ever run as the Doctor.

Iron Man

By 2008 the superhero/comic book adaptation process was pretty much a summer blockbuster standard. The Dark Knight was months away from release, The Incredible Hulk was in the process of its own reboot, Spider-man now had its own billion dollar trilogy, X-men was dabbling in a post-trilogy prequel stage, Superman Returns had been and gone, Daredevil was all but a dirty memory that lingered at the back of movie goers minds and Fantastic Four had been the victim to two terrible feature films. By the time I heard about an Iron Man film, I had lost considerable interest. Every year was starting to become the same. Superhero this, Superhero that. I just couldn’t be bothered anymore. There’s only so many times I can watch a man save the world in a pair of tights before wishing that I was back in the good old days of Schwarzenegger and Bruce Willis (kind of).

Things were beginning to feel a little bit standard with each passing superhero film. It had been three years since Batman Begins came along and reinvented the genre, so things were starting to become somewhat stale again. How much longer could they carry on with this conventional misunderstood superhero who uses his superpowers to fight evil in the name of a dead relative or in order to win the heart of that girl who he’s had a life long crush on?

But then Iron Man didn’t feel like any of these previous releases. It sure as hell wasn’t a reinvention of the genre in the sense that Batman Begins was, but it certainly felt different. I guess the best way to describe the 2008 introduction to Tony Stark is by saying that it added a bit of Jazz into this prevalent genre. Instead of the angst ridden teenager who tries to deal with the tightrope troubles of balancing his personal life with his responsibilities, we had an amusing, sophisticated and sassy story that decided not to take itself too seriously.

This is where the film really managed to catch my eye, because in recent times, this genre – which at its core is quite a far fetched adventure romp – was starting to consider itself as a category that was full of gravitas. There is not really a problem with such films taking a more serious stance on the themes and stories that they tell, but it was starting to get a tad cliché’. The idea of turning all of these heroes into angst ridden personas full of doom and gloom was a prospect that didn’t seem all that exciting to me. Batman Begins managed to pull off the whole gravitas portrayal perfectly, but I didn’t want every comic book/superhero film doing that now did I?

Instead of following in the heavy themed nature of Batman Begins, the socially metaphorical X-Men or the emotionally bulky Spider-man trilogy, Iron Man decided to kick back its feet and take a completely different path all together. The film’s protagonist was Tony Stark, a billionaire playboy who also happens to be the son of an incredibly successful arms dealer. When Stark is kidnapped by terrorists and forced to a weapon for them, he decides to use his brain in order to construct a suit which will help him and one of his fellow prisoners escape. Once free, Stark decides to invest all of his time and money into expanding his idea of a superhuman suit which will inevitably be used to combat evil.

Though the film’s catalyst is caused by a man who decides to undo the harm that his weapons have caused by fighting evil, the film rarely bathes in this theme for too long; instead choosing to focus most of its energy on the entertainment factor of Tony Stark and his cool robotic outfit.

And this is where most of the joy from this film can be found. The first segment of the movie generates its entertainment from Stark building the first edition of his suit. Him and his fellow prisoner – Yinsen –start to construct a machine which they hope will help to free them both from the world which they have found themselves trapped within. As an audience, we know what is coming. We have seen the trailers and are completely aware of what film we have walked into. But the story decides to take its time getting from point A to B. In a strange way, it loosely parallels Batman Begins in the way that it’s a film that doesn’t simply show its hero in action, but shows its hero during the developmental stages. The only difference here is that it’s not fastidiously exploring necessarily why Stark becomes a superhero, but instead extracts its entertainment factor from the nuts and bolts assembly of Stark’s Iron Man.

The escape from Stark and Yinsen’s prison reveals a version of Iron Man which is worlds apart from the one we initially paid to see. It is a beta version of the superhero; a large tin beast that resembles anything but the red and gold flying machine that was plastered across posters. This makes way for the second segment of the film; which is essentially a remake of segment one. Part two, however, is a little more light on its feet and void of the dangers of part one.

Having a prototype Iron Man before the proper version was a nice idea. It gives the transition of regular to hero a bit more exploration room than a lot of the other superhero films which have popped up over recent periods. Again, this is something that was extracted from Batman Begins, but here, it’s done in a more visual heavy manner. Whilst we get a few scenes of Bruce Wayne sneaking around Gotham in a hooded mask, we never really get to see a primitive design of the Batsuit. In Iron Man however, we get to see two types of our superhero; the bulky, unfinished design and the sleek, advanced version. It's a bit like a comic book adaptation of Steve Jobs going from designing the iPod classic to the iPod touch (terrible example, but who cares. I'm not getting paid to write this shit).

Segment two seems to be having a lot more fun with the development of “proper” Iron Man that segment one did. This is mainly to do with the fact that Stark now has the freedom and money to play around with his concepts; giving the plot more room to throw in some fancy gadgets at the viewers faces (plus a couple of sexy vehicles too). Also, Segment one had to take itself a little more seriously than the second part. This is mainly because not only were our heroes stuck in a life threatening situation, but they were also imprisoned in a foreign country by a group of extremists. The plot couldn’t get too self-parodic at this point, as it could end up coming across as insulting and offensive. Here we have none of the gloom and doom of Stark’s cave; allowing the screenwriters freedom to play around with Stark and his fancy gadgets in the most light hearted manner possible.

I like Iron Man a lot, but the film seems to only be truly in its element during these exploration and suit-building scenes. As soon as the plot tries to do other things on the side, everything just gets a tad boring. Ok, so it’s also fun to watch Robert Downy Jr. flirt and charm the heck out of everyone around him, but as soon as the film attempts to slip into romance mode or villain confrontation, the whole thing begins to shake a little under its own feet.

The film is at its best when it’s being smart and nonchalant, which seems to only be the case whenever Stark is playfully experimenting with his own knowledge and finances. It’s the building of Iron Man which allows the film to be playful and quirky, but such qualities seem to saunter off temporarily whenever we see Stark having semi-romantic chats with Pepper Pots or deep gumbling confrontations with Jeff Bridge’s Obadiah Stane.

One of the ways that I like to describe Iron Man is by comparing it to a classy, smart, yet superficial extrovert. If the film was a human, then it would be the sort of person who everyone else wanted to be like, could easily pass an exam and could bed any guy or girl they wanted. They would have a way with words and be most certainly be a switched on character. But the moment they start to act sincere or love bitten, people find it impossible to take them seriously. They may well be Mr and Mrs Charm, but they are not Romeo and Juliet.

Iron Man manages to stay fun for a majority of the time, mainly because most of the movie is dedicated to this smart and stylish construction plot. Yet there are times where it decides to abandon it in the hope of doing something else with the script. The main example and problem of this happening takes place in the film’ climax. Suddenly Stark has built Iron Man and is ready to battle the film’s core antagonist; Obadiah Stane. It is at this point that the film forgets about its previous intriguing qualities and becomes a standard Hollywood flick. You have the kidnapped Pepper Pots, the loud action scenes, the choreographed fight sequences, the unambiguous enemy and the hero who manages to secure victory at the last second.

There’s nothing necessarily wrong with these moments of course, they’re just not as entertaining as the other parts of the film. In comparison to the fun theatricals of Stark trying to perfect his suit, everything just gets a little boring. The script works best when it spends its time allowing Downy Jr. to put on a show, not when it’s blowing shit up. The blowing shit up is fine, it’s just feels weak amongst the more entertaining moments.

But after the average climax, we get a great final moment where Tony Stark stands up and reveals to the press that he’s Iron Man. This is a lovely breath of fresh air and was an oddly liberating scene in such a film. Whilst most superheroes decide to conceal their true identity to the world, Stark just decides to say “fuck it” and comes out to everyone. Yes, I know that I just used the word “come out” to describe his revelation as Iron Man, but after all the heavy use of heroes concealing their identities, the revelation of such a truth does seem to resemble that of a character concealing a deep secret which would inevitably rock the worlds of all those whom they know. The fact that Stark just decided to sod consequence and pretty much go “yep, I’m Iron Man” stays true to the film’s highly confident approach.

Iron Man is an audacious and sassy film which has the balls to be quirky, smart and playful with its narrative. It’s nothing hugely game changing, but it’s a really enjoyable chunk of entertainment that helps to remind us that the superhero genre is far from drying up.

This is the End

The use of characters playing themselves in modern day film and television is a format which I feel I should hate, but often end up loving. A perfect example of this was when I found out that the co-creator of Seinfeld – Larry David – had created a follow up sitcom where he played a heightened version of himself. Curb Your Enthusiasm sounded like a multimillionaire man giving himself a great big pat on the back by writing 10 episodes a year of him living his luxurious life. How could such a show connect with its audiences when David was a stupidly rich individual who could have pretty much anything he wanted? It sounded smug and shit. But then I watched it and realised just how wrong I was. Curb Your Enthusiasm turned out to be one of my favourite sitcoms. The show’s dialogue was all improvised; giving David and his co-stars the freedom to take set pieces into all sorts of weird and wonderful directions. Both David and the rest of Curb’s cast were on fire; coming out with some of the crudest and funniest lines ever imaginable in a televised show.

Since the uprising of Curb Your Enthusiasm, many other television shows have attempted to extract success from this very format; taking a number of celebrities and creating fictional/documentary hybrids. The blending of reality and fantasy have been quite a popular breed of comedy ever since Ricky Gervais made the world a brighter place with The Office, yet Larry David has stepped up the game somewhat; pulling real life individuals further down the rabbit hole of fiction (a move that Gervais also decided to toy around with in Extras and Life's too Short).

Regardless of my love for Curb however, each time one of these shows or films makes its way into the world, I always expect it to be a disaster. If not done properly, then it would be all too easy to end up with a show/film which just continuously praises the characters at the center of its story. The problem with celebrities is that the general public don’t usually like them. It is obvious that they have problems and hurt just like the rest of us, however their public persona gives many the impression that they live in a world of gold and happiness. They are rich, have big houses, fancy cars, beautiful partners and get to dine in the finest restaurants. If you are making a show about someone with that kind of life, then it can be all too easy to alienate the casual viewer.

When I saw the trailer for This is the End several weeks back, once again I was convinced that this would be the case. The comedic team of Seth Rogan, James Franco, Jonan Hill and co have always been a group who I’ve never possessed much of a liking toward. Yes, at times I do find each one funny in some way or another, but over all I find their style exceedingly tiring. The Judd Apatow inspired body of work is always the same old hogwash; jokes about male genitalia, jokes about smoking shit loads of pot and jokes about watching pornography. It’s incredibly adolescent and grows very repetitive after a while. That’s not to say that I don’t like these guys. Sometimes I do find myself enjoying some of their movies, but I really have to be in the right kind of mood. On the plus side, they are far funnier in my opinion than Adam Sandler and his pathetic line-up (for the record, I absolutely despise Adam Sandler and his movies. Honestly, the very thought that such a guy makes a boat load of money year after year pretty much clarifies to me that there is no God).

The main problem with my semi-neutral stance on the adolescent humour of team Rogan meant that I was immensely skeptical about this film. So skeptical in fact that I didn’t plan on seeing this one at all. The only reason why I found myself viewing it was because on Thursday night a bunch of friends who I hadn’t seen for a while turned up at my house. I have spent the past several weeks locked in my house, only ever communicating with the outside world during work office hours, so it was nice to finally have a conversation with individuals who I genuinely like as human beings. When they invited me to the cinema that very same evening, I thought I might as well go along and attempt to keep our friendship alive. When I found out that we were seeing This is the End however, I sighed under my breath. Was I about to pay £10 to see Seth Rogan, James Franco, Jonan Hill and co pat themselves on the back for two bloody hours? Please don’t let this be so.

But guess what? I actually enjoyed this film. It was certainly nothing special, but I actually laughed an awful lot during this feature. So ok, the genital/weed/porn humor is all very much there, but this time I just sat back and accepted it for what it was. The main reason for this, I think, is that the film really does not take itself seriously at all. It knows what it is and what it’s doing and just doesn’t give a damn about that fact. I was never under the impression that the film was trying desperately to be funny. Instead, it was just cracking jokes which the writers and actors found funny; giving it a much more relaxed feel. Yes the humor was just as crude and as immature as Superbad, but so what? The film was having fun with itself. It was catering to that very audience and was not at all self conscious in doing so.

As for the whole fiction/reality hybrid of characters playing themselves, I think it worked quite well in this film. The BBC Radio Five Live critic Mark Kermode was of the opinion that the feature was just one big self congratulatory festival for the stars of the film, but I guess I have to disagree here. Rogan, Franco and team seem to be quite happy to rip their previous bodies of work to shreds and ridicule one another in a fun and light hearted way. Characters attack Rogan for his lack of acting diversity, they ironically declare that acting is a ‘talent’ and James Franco even makes a vicious remark toward the horrific Your Highness. There’s also a great scene where Rogan and Franco dream up a plot for a sequel to Pineapple Express whilst getting high; which they later go on to film whilst drugged up to the eyeballs. The use of Pineapple Express 2 is incredibly self-deprecating and addresses all the flaws that critics have pointed out about such works. Films like the Pineapple Express do often appear to be features which have been dreamed up by intoxicated minds, so to see the actual creators dreaming up such concepts in this film is both funny and potentially honest.

But these self-attacks are not constructive or intellectual forms of criticism. The film isn’t trying to say something interesting or eye opening about these films; instead it is nothing more than simplistic name calling between the leading actors of this film. No one is taking any of this seriously and no one should. The cast are just trying to have as much fun as they possibly can with the script and it would appear that this is exactly what they're having. Everyone seems to be having a great time filming this; playing around and insulting one another. It is the Hollywood equivalent of a bunch of mates getting drunk and teasing one another. No one is here to push the envelop or make a statement; they are simply here to have a bit of fun with one another.

The idea that the cast are just mucking about may very well be what makes this film a joy to watch, but it’s also slightly problematic in several ways. First of all, the fact that the film doesn’t really have anything to say makes the whole experience feel little empty. The basic setup of this feature revolves around a bunch comedic actors being themselves whilst the world ends around them. The backdrop has absolutely no purpose in the story. It’s just there. It may drive the plot forward, but it really does have no impact on the overall theme. This makes the whole film come across as yet another stoned idea which was conjured up by Mr Rogan. The joke revolving around Pineapple Express 2 almost feels like the reality of This is the End. Seeing as the whole rapture backdrop turns out to be pretty pointless, the story quickly runs out of steam; meaning that the film has to rely on the stars for a majority of its run. This is not a film about the end of the world, but about a group of adolescent guys firing jokes back and forth.

But what the heck, as I mentioned before, I laughed a lot in this film and I enjoyed it more than I ever expected to. The film may be a little pointless and childish, but I liked watching these guys enjoying themselves whilst they made a movie. Because despite what I may say about cinema, the enjoyment of making a film can be just as pleasant as enjoying the experience of film itself. In a world where most movies are made for money, it’s nice when we finally come across one that was made for fun (though saying that, I’m certain that this film was made with money firmly in mind, but I’m just going to ignore that fact for a little while).

Or maybe this film was a crock of shit. Maybe it was just nice to get out of the house once in a while and the good mood of seeing old friends meant that I was pretty much open to any form of comedy. I mean I did briefly chuckle at Vince Vaughn gag during one of the trailers, which never happens, ever…