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.

Interstellar

Plot – A team of space travellers venture through a wormhole in search of a new home for humanity. 

These days, it almost feels as though many Hollywood features are nothing more than half-baked ideas, solely existing for the purpose of making money. Not that there's a problem with films trying to generate revenue of course. Remember, all the boys and girls working on these flicks do have mouths to feed back at home. Nonetheless, when film-makers throw quality out the window entirely for the sake of bombastic explosions and little substance, things become problematic.

Not all films are like this, of course. There are many great films that have come off the back of Hollywood in recent years. It's just when it comes to looking at the weekly listings, it's hard not to notice that a heck of a lot of releases seem to be nothing more than superficial cash cows attempting to lure their audiences in with sparkly special effects and dazzling explosions. Films such as the Pirates of the Caribbean series or a majority of Michael Bay films appear to be nothing more than theme park rides converted into the cinematic medium. From start to finish, instead of experiencing a story which makes you think about a particular subject, care for the characters or leave the auditorium with a feeling of awe, we're subjected to famous actors dancing around whilst delivering quirky (but meaningless) dialogue, set pieces with characters skipping along flashy action sequences and explosions that traumatise the ears and irises. There's nothing necessarily terrible about films that are executed as theme park romps in and of themselves, however when it becomes the dominate type of film to come out of Hollywood, it can make one worry about the future of mainstream film. We need diversity to keep our viewing experiences fresh and we need stories that try different things in order to find new ways to tell them in a grander sense of the word.

But fear not, because while the cinema listings of today may be polluted with noisy, jazzy Michael Bay romps, there are also films released each year which remind us that there's still hope for the future of the blockbuster. Such films remind us that there are more ways of telling a story than the simple Hero's Journey structure and that there are still film-makers out there with whopping price tags strapped to their heads who want to create meaningful stories that are more than just 3 hour firework displays.

Christopher Nolan is a writer and director who is currently amongst this club. For the past decade or so, he has achieved rather spectacular heights when it comes to mainstream blockbuster success. Not only is he a director who can walk into a studio with an idea and walk back out with $200 million, he's also a director who seems to make a heck of a lot of money with an original idea; proving that it is possible to succeed financially without having to resort to mindless formulaic spectacle in order to achieve it.

Furthermore, Nolan is a film-maker who doesn't treat his audiences like they're idiots. He knows that a majority of the human race are smart when it comes to consuming stories; regardless of the medium they're told in. We don't just need tacky one-liners, 40 minute car chases, tasteless stereotypes and robots whacking each other in the face for 3 hours. We are capable of understanding and absorbing so much more. Well-written characters, unique stories, complex ideas and thought-provoking concepts are also elements which attract the audiences eye.

Now don't get me wrong, there really is nothing wrong with loud, bombastic, popcorn flicks. There's plenty of great films out there which don't try to be complex, different or overly detailed. Cinema is entertainment at the end of the day, so why can't a good old romp be enjoyed? Films that require you leave your brain at the door are perfectly good forms of escapism, which is essentially why we go to the movies in the first place.

Yet when these types of theme-park movies saturate the Hollywood market, we begin to yearn for more. Hollywood becomes formulaic and predictable. It gives off the impression that the studios have ran out of ideas, that they are only capable of rebooting old hits and that they have little care when it comes to giving their customers something new. Not only does it make us feel cheated when we walk out of a film we swear we've seen a hundred times already, but it makes us begin to fear for the future of Hollywood itself. We need new ideas to show that, like all forms of storytelling, cinema is forever evolving.

The success of Nolan helps us maintain that knowledge. He delivers new and interesting ideas whilst simultaneously blending them into the same flashy special effects model of these standardised theme-park romps. They are not small-scale indie movies that are made on half a penny, they are the same expensive Hollywood products that are made with colossal budgets. Such films go to show that we can indeed have movies that are aimed at a huge demographic which don't require you turn you brain off beforehand.

Interstellar is the new film from Nolan and tells the story of a group of space travellers who journey through a wormhole in order to find a new home for the residents of a dying planet earth. It arrives just two years after the director wrapped up his immensely successful Dark Knight Trilogy and comes at a time when expectations toward his work are outlandishly high.

The fact that Nolan is currently at the height of his career comes as both a curse and a blessing for his films. The fact that he's known around the world for been able to turn a profit of over $900 million for a unique and complex high-premise film (Inception) means that studios are willing to give him a great deal of money to create new and original features whenever it so pleases him. Many directors are only ever able to spend $200 million on a flick provided they are monitored constantly by producers intent on 'playing it safe' and have their work scrutinised by test audiences long before a release date even hits the horizon. As was the case with Stanley Kubrick back in the day, Nolan is free from such shackles. This gives him a level of creative freedom that very few on this planet posses when it comes to working within Hollywood. With that kind of money, he can pretty much build whatever kind of story he sees fit.

On the flip side, however, the fact that Nolan's earlier films have been so sublime in the eyes of many means that the expectation bar has now been set pretty darn high. This was the case with The Dark Knight Rises; a marvellous feature which is frequently attacked for its plot holes and flawed screenplay. Yes, there are some problems with Rises, but it is still an enjoyable film that delivers for at least 90% of the time. But because Nolan is human, he slips up with pacing and the execution from time to time. The errors found in segments of Rises would not be a problem in most films – as they really aren't what makes up the entirety of the film in terms of quality – but because of how renowned Batman Begins and The Dark Knight were, many criticised him for not making something which exceeded their expectations.

This blessing and curse has already had an impact on Interstellar and is generating a similar set of discussions that Rises provoked two years prior. The film was made on $165 million, allowing Nolan to execute a story of whatever size and scale he desired. He was at liberty to tell an original story that had no limits in what it did. At the same time, however, people seem to have been going into this story with one eye on Inception. Less than a month into its release and already many have taken to the forums in order to moan about the story not being complicated enough, being too complicated (seems he can't win on this one), not having interesting enough characters, copping out by using a 'corny' love theme and not being as good as some of Nolan's earlier works.

After seeing it in my local IMAX on Thursday evening, it's somewhat difficult to see where these opinions are coming from.

The complaints regarding complexity  - or lack of it in this particular case - is what strikes me as the most bewildering of quarrels. Some have said the story has ditched the puzzle-box structure of Inception and has instead chosen to adopt a straight forward narrative which guides the viewers from A to B without letting them think for themselves. I can see where they are coming from up until a point. While Inception told a very complex story in a very complex way (which is how Nolan summed it up in a recent Guardian interview) – segmenting its narrative over multiple levels of 'reality' - Interstellar decides to structure itself in a more straight-forward manner. Yet claiming that it guides the viewer idly from start to finish, without leaving audiences to think for themselves, is a teeny bit nonsensical (with the exception of one particular scene, in which a whiteboard is brought into shot for no other reason than to explain how a wormhole works; which is the kind of science you'd excpect austronauts to be brushed up on BEFORE they set off toward one!). The story relies heavily on complex quantum physics; applying a whole array of theories and concepts that can only really be 'understood' (which is apparently the wrong word to apply in this context) by having vast degrees of knowledge in the subject matter at hand. The film may lay things out so that it's easy enough to grasp what's going on – allowing individuals like myself to follow the plot despite not having any knowledge on the theories driving the story – however its execution doesn't hand us all the information on a silver spoon. Numerous sequence are hard to encrypt at first, and although the delivery of exposition gives you a pretty clear idea on the shape and direction the narrative is heading it, a considerable amount of effort is required from the viewer to place the larger picture together. The dialogue may explain what the characters plan to do for the next chunk of the story, yet it isn't until we begin to see those actions played out on-screen that we can fully piece together what they truly mean to do. Separate segments of information – both visual and dialogue based – are scattered throughout different points of the film. Although the exposition is there, it is spaced apart, requiring those watching to actively put them together in their heads. The wormhole sequence is one example. The presence of the wormhole near Saturn is introduced early on in the film. NASA discuss the existence of 12 worlds, black holes and time variations, yet before we can conclude the true nature of the theory at hand (provided you're not buffed up in the Quantum Mechanics department that is) we first have to wait for a number a separate sequences which elaborate and expand upon what these characters were talking about. Nolan isn't spoon feeding information; he's using the visual powers of the cinematic medium to play out complicated scientific theories to drive his story. This is not the case of a film-maker patronising their audience with poor exposition, it is communicating gargantuan ideas to its consumers; which is surely what cinema is ultimately about in many respects.

Then there's those who complain that the film is far too complicated for some viewers to grasp. Again, I agree with this point to a level. Yes, the ideas that managed to make their way into Interstellar's script are often very knotty to get one's head around. Quantum Physics is a subject notorious for its level of complexity. It is a subject that explores boundaries which excel the limits of the human brain. As Richard Feynman states "If you think you understand quantum mechanics, you don't understand quantum mechanics." Nolan, however, applies the same tool that shows such as The West Wing and House adopted. As long as the writers, directors and actors knew (or looked as though they knew) what they were talking about, viewers would at the very least see what they were getting at. You don't have to have an MA in politics or a PHD in Medicine to watch The West Wing or House, yet the DNA of those shows rely heavily on both those very subjects in order to drive their stories forth. Because everyone on bored making it gets what's going on (or at least pretend to), viewers can see and understand what direction each episode is taking. Interstellar is very much the same and as I stated in the paragraph above, the film uses its visuals in order to communicate its ideas. Everyone working on this film is confident in the subject matter at hand. The fact that they have $165 million to show their viewers what (they claim) they know shows us exactly what they're getting at.

As for the claims regarding the characters not being interesting enough, I'm not sure where they are getting that from. Ok, I will admit that character development isn't one of Nolan's strongest point. Sure, he certainly writes characters we care about, but they are not vast enigmas with rich pasts. Yet even though fastidious character development isn't what Nolan's known for, he's characters are far from uninteresting. They are often used as vessels in his scripts that utter thought provoking dialogue in order to get you thinking, commit acts which often border between the lines of good and evil, push the story into bold new territories, or utter brief lines that shine a new light on the story within the eyes' of audiences. All of this applies to Interstellar, a film in which uses its characters as pawns in a grand chess game. They are the ones who take the theories of Quantum Mechanics and drive them into the stars, they are the ones who steer the course of the story in order to get back to their loved ones, and they are the ones who communicate to the audience the love theme which lies at the heart of this very story.

Which brings me on to the quarrel regarding the film's love-theme. Many have expressed distaste at Anne Hathaway's “Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space” monologue for been far too corny. Furthermore, many have said the (marvellous) climax sequence where Cooper travels through his daughter's timeline in order to save her (along with humanity) from certain death is a red-button cop out. Yet the love conquers all theme is essentially the DNA of classic science fiction storytelling. Philip K Dick often applied this theme to his stories; exploring the idea that human emotion is the one force which can overcome the cold harsh truths of the universe. Many complain that such stories cheat themselves into closure, and while I can empathise with those who may not like their films to be resolved with a theme that they may find overly-sentimental, I don't necessarily think it is as simple as Deux ex Machina. To imply that emotions are a cheat is not entirely fair. If the whole love resolution is pulled out of the bag the moment before it is needed, then yes, it's a cop out. If it is threaded throughout the entire narrative however, then it becomes a key player in the story at hand. When an emotion such as love becomes the driving force in a narrative, then what makes it any less important than the material aspects of that narrative? Implying that emotions are somehow less superior when it comes to telling stories doesn't make sense to me. Love is what drives the whole of Interstellar from start to finish. It is why Cooper and Brand sail off into the stars in the first place. The film emphasises quite frequently (particularly by the time Matt Damon shows up) that these characters are only risking their lives to save humanity in the name of their beloved. Cooper doesn't give Murphy the knowledge she needs through an act of selflessness, he gives it her because he wants to save her. Love creates and drives the entirety of Interstellar; making it the heart and soul of the story Nolan is telling. It is in its DNA, making the decision to apply its closure makes perfect sense.

As for the argument that it's not as good as his earlier works? Agreed. It's not his best film, but by saying it's not the best in a line of great works is far from an insult. It's just as it was with The Dark Knight Rises; even though it's not as good as the first two, it's still not a bad film.  Interstellar may not be as good as, say, Memento or Inception (in my subjective opinion that is), but this doesn't mean it isn't a marvellous film.

Interstellar is a bold piece of cinema which explores grand ideas in a hugely compelling manner. Its story uses the classic theme of love conquers all to drive a story into territories which haven't been explored for a long time. Its a science fiction film in the most classic sense of the genre. Today, mainstream science fiction is more closer to that of the fantasy genre than it is to its original routes. The term science fiction never initially meant 'pretend science', it was 'fiction about science'. Science fiction novels were often written by scientists themselves; using the subject matter literally in order to tell a story. As comedies use humour as their key element, science fiction once used hard science as theirs. There is absolutely nothing wrong with contemporary science fiction of course, but to finally see a film that harkens back to a time when the genre told stories based around actual scientific theories brings an ironic sense of originality to mind.

Also – as a side note – hats off to Hans Zimmer's score. There's been much criticism fired at Zimmer in recent years for his supposed habit of recycling old scores, however we really have something remarkably new going on here. I love the use of blaring organs throughout. It kept reminding me of the final seconds of Richard Strauss's Also sprach Zarathustra score during 2001's opening sequence. Although it was a little too loud in some places (though that may be down to my local IMAX's sound system settings), the entire score blends in perfect harmony with the film's narrative. Before seeing it last Thursday evening, I couldn't imagine what the soundtrack to Interstellar would be like. Upon leaving the showing, however, I could no longer picture Interstellar without Zimmer's soundtrack charging defiantly along side. I fact, it wasn't just a score that played alongside the story, it was apart of the story itself.

Doctor Who New Series 2.0 - 'The Christmas Invasion'

Plot - Rose and the newly-regenerated Doctor crash land in present day London. Meanwhile, deep amongst the stars, a race intent on enslaving mankind sails toward planet earth. Harriet Jones - now Prime Minister of Great Britain - urges the Doctor to save humanity from the deadly Sycorax. The only problem is, the Doctor's in a coma in Jackie's apartment, sleeping off the side effects of his recent regeneration. 

How does a show survive the departure of its leading star? For many television programs, the idea of continuing after such a situation arises would be seen as an act of madness. Sure, it's not unheard of for a program to go on after such a departure occurs, however more often than not, if a leading man or woman left after just one series, the plug would be pulled and everyone would move on to something else entirely.

Fortunately, change is an aspect which works wonders for Doctor Who. The premise thrives off its freedom to twist and turn into something entirely new from time to time and is what has allowed it to remain a member of the pop culture club for almost 51 years (and still counting). Just because Christopher Eccleston decided he'd had enough after the first 13 episodes of his run didn't mean the story had to end there. In fact, it gave New Who a chance to explore a different direction with a new star piloting the scripts. Less than one year in and already the producers have been offered an opportunity to show audiences that Doctor Who can not only work in the 21^st century, but that it can do so with a new Doctor at the helm.

Despite this, however, Eccleston's departure is a rather unfortunate occurrence for a number of reasons. Firstly, it means that the ninth Doctor's era is possibly the most briefest to date. Ok, so Paul McGann only ever appeared in two televised events – the abysmal 1996 movie and the wondrous 2013 mini episode Night of the Doctor – yet the eight Doctor's legacy survived countless years through its vast quantity of spin off novels and audio adventures. The ninth Doctor, on the other hand, wraps up after just 13 episodes and six tie-in novels; giving us very little time to learn enough about this particular incarnation of the time lord and the sorts of stories it could explore within the limitations of this version of the character. Each Doctor has their pros and cons, yet we're never really given the space to explore those within the wider context of Doctor number nine.

Second frustration is the fact that we're never able to find out where Russell T Davies and co were planning on taking the story of the ninth Doctor. By the end of series one, the gradual development of the Rose, Jack, Doctor trio suggests that the initial intention was to flesh out the three of them and include Jack on board the TARDIS for a far longer period. All of this is a mere guessing game of course, as we really don't have enough evidence to declare where things would have headed if Eccleston decided to remain for series two. Having said this, however it is highly unlikely that the show would have gone down the same route in the long term if Eccleston had stayed. David Tennant is a far different kind of actor to that of Eccleston – particularly in terms of how kinetic and expressive his performances can be – meaning that the writers would have been influenced by the types of ticks and tools each performer brought to this role.

Even though it is arguably quite easy to picture Eccleston appearing in the scripts written for series two, it's hard to say the same with regards to series three. None of the writers had any material for Tennant as the Doctor prior to his run, so the best bet was for them to pen series two as if they were penning another year of Eccleston. That way they could learn what worked and failed based on the outcome of that year. By the time series three aired, the Tenth Doctor already had 14 episodes for writers to go on, so they'd write the role to suit Tennant's stronger points.

Yet despite all this talk of a series two with Eccleston, history decided it was never to be. On 25^th December 2005, The Christmas Invasion aired on BBC One and the reign of the tenth Doctor begun.

Such a series may thrive on change, but the production team still had a hell of a task when it came to making this story. Remember, the whole point of the first series was to show off to a new audience what Doctor Who could do, yet Doctor Who can be many things. They may well have introduced a new generation to bizarre looking life forms, time travelling phone boxes and evil pepper pots, but the concept of regeneration was still to be addressed. What if the television viewers of today didn't warm to the idea of their beloved hero altering their personality and appearance on the spot? What if David Tennant turned out to be a clanger of a choice? What if audiences were alienated after the leather-jacketed northerner turned into the suit-wearing romantic? New Who would fall dead on its ass, that's what.

In relation to these concerns, Davies adopted a number of mechanics in this episode to try and ease the comfort; just in case an event in which the audience felt alienated did arise. First off, he chose to bring Jackie Tyler, Mickey Smith and Harriet Jones back for this episode, planting them slap bang in the middle of the story. This was to give viewers a reference point to home in on. You can almost hear Davies shouting it's the same show! All that's different is a name in the opening credits!

Deciding to include characters from the previous series in the limelight helps to ease the blow of having a new leading act. Jackie, Mickey and Harriet serve to maintain an element of familiarity; helping to build a bridge between series one and two.

Rose Tyler can also be seen in this fashion – seeing as she is the only remaining lead role from the first series – yet she can also be seen as a mouthpiece for the boys and girls at home. She spends huge chunks of this episode doubting that the man lying in her mother's flat really is the Doctor. As was the case in the pilot episode – and for most of series one – Rose serves as an audience identification figure to guide the viewers along. As the runtime of The Christmas Invasion rolls on, Rose gradually becomes convinced that this strange bloke really is who he says he is. By the time the end credits arrive, she's accepted the fact that this stripy-suited feller really is the same northern bloke she's spent the past year or so travelling with.

The second mechanic in Davies' arsenal is his use of the Doctor himself, or the lack of him should I say. All the way back in Rose, the ninth Doctor was pretty much the heart of the entire story. Not only was a majority of the focus aimed toward him whenever he appeared on screen, but he also appeared on screen a heck of a lot. For his pilot episode, the Ninth Doctor proved himself by declaring his clout in front of a spotlight.

Yet in The Christmas Invasion, the tenth Doctor is kept out of the story for about 90% of its run. The episode opens up to a TARDIS tumbling out of the sky and a dazed Doctor mumbling to Mickey, Rose and Jackie before passing out. From then on, the Doctor spends a majority of the time asleep in Jackie's apartment. It isn't until the very end of the story - when all hope seems lost - that Doc number ten rises from his slumber and proves his Doctorishness with words, running, heroism and....erm...sword-fighting?

By leaving the tenth Doctor out of large chunks of his pilot results in creating a hook for audiences to bite onto. We know Eccleston is gone, we know that bloke from Casanova is stepping into his shoes, but what's this new guy going to bring to this character? By holding out on that question until the end of the narrative keeps the televisions at home tuned in. Davies entices his audience by holding out on the tenth Doctor until the last minute. The desire to know grows more intense as the stakes raise; meaning that when the Doctor storms out of his TARDIS within the bowls of the Sycorax's vessel during the final act, the entire moment is all the more satisfying as a result of the seemingly-neverending wait. The confidence and energy of Tennant's performance after 50 minutes of anticipation seals the deal, ushering in the shows' second era of the 21^st century.

And speaking of confidence, this brings me onto the third trick which Davies pulls out of his sleeve, which is the audacity of this story. I mentioned in my review of Parting of the Ways that even though series one was bold and imaginative in terms of its scale, there was quite a self concious feel to its execution. Stories dared to be experimental, yet they drew the line whenever they thought things were going too far. Referencing the shows' past was pretty much a no go area and the use of Eccleston gave each episode a sense of gravitas to the concepts playing out in each story. Series two, however, has a wave of confidence surrounding it that gives off an entirely different feel to that of series one; boldly taking on aspects of Doctor Who that it initially shied away from.

The use of Jackie, Mickey and Harriet in The Christmas Invasion also helps to prove this point. Davies has decided that viewers at home will recognise these characters from the previous summer. This story came out after the success of series one; giving Davies both the awareness and confidence to use additional characters from earlier episodes as a means of drawing audiences into the plot. He's brave enough to conclude that a reunion with Jackie, Mickey and Harriet will bode well with the boys and girls at home.

This isn't just the case with people, as stories from the previous year are also referenced subtly throughout; lingering in the back ground and knowing full well that viewers will clock on to their significance. A Big Ben coated in scaffolding caused by the events of The Aliens of London, Rose's attempt to frighten off the Sycorax by listing names of villains she's previously encountered and Tennant uttering the word “fantastic” with a knowing smile are moments that presume its viewers know what the script is referring to.

Audacity can also be seen in the ideas executed throughout The Christmas Invasion. Robot Santa Clauses roaming through a London high street with weapons disguised as musical instruments, killer Christmas trees spinning toward Rose and Jackie, references to the Royal Family standing on the roof amongst their brainwashed subjects, the Tenth Doctor's accidental quote from The Lion King, snowflakes made out of spaceship derbies and even the climactic sword fight on the Sycorax spaceship all add to the madness of this episode. Camp, bonkers fun, playing out over a 60 minute period without ever once having to rely on a particular kind of actor's gravitas or shy away from a wacky idea at the last moment.

Murray Gold's score also adds a new element of boldness to the episode, largely due to the fact that the BBC decided to give him the National Orchestra of Wales to play with. The soundtrack sounds bigger, more colourful and deeper than ever. Gone are the monotone boinky-ploinky sounds of series one's score. Here we have something far larger in scale, making Doctor Who feel more epic and cinematic than ever before.

It's this sort of increased scale which delivers an aura of confidence to The Christmas Invasion, which is why the introduction of Torchwood can also be seen (arguably) as a way of assisting with the script's audacity. Although New Who has shied away from the concept of world building (something which can be seen most obviously in The Long Game), it can be said that Davies has made some effort in expanding the world of present day London by bringing back Jackie and Mickey in numerous episodes. Yet through series one, he only really expanded the size of the Powell Estate. It isn't until here that Davies suddenly begins to start adding larger recurring characters/institutes into the building blocks of this fictional present day London. The inclusion of Torchwood acts not only as series two's core story arc, but also opens up a bridge between Doctor Who and it's soon-to-be spinoff, Torchwood.

By adding the Torchwood institute to series two, Davies has created a new space within present day London for the show to explore in future episodes (and shows). We may not have the likes of Gwen Cooper, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones or post-Parting of the Ways Jack yet, but the institute is established here; opening up more realms inside the world of present day [2006] London within the Doctor Who universe.

Overall, The Christmas Invasion's bravery helps Tennant's opening greatly. Davies delivers a script that's essentially ballsy enough to knock its main character out for most of its narrative, throw in zany set-pieces throughout and have Rose fully transition from audience-identifying sceptic to a character who is completely certain the Doctor is still the Doctor, regardless of a recent appearance alteration.

It can be argued, that in many ways, this helped to almost fool audiences in some ways. Davies gives off the impression here that he's not striving to enchant the nation like he was last time round. Instead he's written a script that pretty much screams Doctor Who is back and more exciting than ever. It's not as if he's pleading with us to believe this is the Doctor, but it's as if he's declaring that this is the Doctor. He's not asking, he's telling.

Which is what makes the episode work. To survive the transition from one actor to another, The Christmas Invasion needed to be a roller-coaster of an episode which celebrated New Who as a whole. The fact that it managed to tick these boxes makes it difficult not to admire. It may not be the greatest episode to date, and it certainly isn't the best Christmas special (which is a long way away), but it's certainly a strong contender amongst the list of Doctor Who stories that wear their strengths upon their sleeves.

The Christmas Invasion is far from perfect, however, and Davies often falls back on a number of weaknesses that will haunt his work for the entirety of his time as head writer.

Firstly, there are a number of red-button cop-outs that occur throughout. Moments such as when the Tenth Doctor awakens temporarily from his coma so that he can point his sonic screwdriver at a Christmas tree intent on butchering Rose are moments which feel cheap and poorly thought out. Other similar moments include the Doctor throwing an apple at a button conveniently opening a hatch which kills his sword-fighting foe (although the apple is established early on enough in the story to pass the Chekhov's gun principle, the button most certainly is not), and the Doctor awakening moments before everyone trapped on board the Sycorax ship are about to meet their end. All these cop-out moments suggest Davies wrote these scenes with very little idea on how to pay them off. He raises the stakes to a point where almost every character on screen is about to face certain doom, only to then come up with a quick and simple solution which sorts out every (important) persons' problems.

Secondly, the Sycorax are, quite frankly, villains of the superficial sort. They are nothing more than vicious looking beasties who want to conquer worlds and enslave other lifeforms. They are generic nasties who have no unique ideas to their name which failed to make their appearance memorable in anyway shape or form. There is nothing unique or interesting about them. They are nothing more than shouty, shooty bad guys who need killing by our beloved Doctor as soon as possible. They're not necessarily terrible villains, but they are really only there as an opponent for the tenth Doctor to prove his worth against (which isn't a bad thing as such, it just makes them boring).

My third and final problem with the episode is the Doctor's decision to oust Harriet Jones from government. The problem with the tenth Doctor – as blogger Philip Sandifer has pointed out on several occasions – is that his arrogance often gets the better of him. He has a confidence that presents him in such a way where he appears to feel as though he owns whatever place he happens to be in at that given time. He also seems to believe that his moral views are the ones that everyone else should abide by. He will happily laugh his way through horrific deaths taking place around him in Tooth and Claw – as he thinks the whole theme park history he and Rose have landed in is a right old romp – but as soon as someone does something that he thinks is very naughty, he takes it upon himself to punish the 'wrong doers' for their actions.

Which is pretty much what the tenth Doctor does at the end of The Christmas Invasion. As soon as Harriet has given the green light for Torchwood to blow the Sycorax ship into oblivion, the bouncy, smiley Doctor becomes enraged at her for what she's done. Harriet tries to explain that she did what she did for the safety of planet Earth, yet her words fall upon deaf ears. First he lectures her on what she's just done, then he gives her some speech on never firing at those who's backs are turned and finally, he utters the line don't you think she looks tired into the ear of Harriet's aid; knowingly planting the seed which will eventually result in her ousting from number 10 . Not only is the Doctor deciding that his opinion on this matter is truly the right one, but he also decides that the person in the wrong must be punished for their doings. This is bad enough in itself, but what twists the knife even further is the fact that only moments prior, the Doctor sent his sword-fighting opponent to their death, all in the name of protecting his own life.

So it's all good for the Doctor to say that awful events must never be rewritten, or that the Daleks and Timelords simply must die in order to keep the universe safe, yet the moment someone does anything he doesn't like – even in the name of self-protection – he feels it is his duty to put their wrongs to right and sentence them accordingly.

The arrogance factor of the tenth Doctor seems to have been written intentionally by Davies, as it is a character trait which grows stronger as his era moves forth (particularly by the time we get to Waters of Mars). Furthermore, the ousting of Harriet from number 10 results in a space for Harold Saxon (the Master) to become prime minister; a character who was responsible for the events carried out in Tennant's final episode. The Doctor's arrogant actions here result in triggering a series of events which inevitably lead to this incarnation's demise.

Yet despite it seeming to be an intentional trait, it is never really executed properly. Whenever Tennant shouts someone down for their actions - particularly when he's behaved inappropriately in a previous scene - he comes across as a self-obsessed know-it-all who believes he and his companion are the only ones in the universe who matter. His righteousness is never questioned or critiqued; resulting in a scar which can be seen across the entirety of the tenth Doctor's era.

The Christmas Invasion is problematic, but it certainly works as an introduction for a new leading star. The cloak of confidence that Davies wraps around this script, along with the decision to keep the tenth Doctor out of the narrative for such long stretches makes this an explosive and exciting piece of television which delivers from start to finish.

On June 18^th 2005, Doctor Who lost its leading star. In most situations, this would mark the low point for many shows. Yet on December 25^th, just six months after The Parting of the Ways aired, the show returns with more confidence than ever before. At a point where most shows would throw in the towel, Davies writes a script that screams Doctor Who is here to stay!