World War III

After our first cliffhanger, our first cliffhanger resolution. They rarely satisfy completely: ideally they should surprise and delight, but still be conceivably foreseeable. It's not an exact science. This one's alright, although you can probably only play the "But I'm not human!" card once.

Afterwards the episode spins into a madcap runaround sequence that delighted both the boys and the Doctor. He is really enjoying this, and grins wildly at the Slitheen as he escapes in the lift or bounds up and down the stairs. He has come alive, delighted to be mixed up in the middle of it all and his enthusiasm is infectious. But once he's safely ensconced in the Cabinet Room (after some wonderfully Doctorish flimflam) everything settles down and it becomes clear that the Slitheen's plot to destroy the world is not the sole focus of this episode.

The emotional centre is Jackie's fear for Rose. It's bad enough that her daughter is threatened by the mysterious unknowable universe, but now Rose is inside Downing Street as Mickey buffalos his way into missile command. It's a fair point and a timely one for the series to address. We know she's not safe. We wouldn't be watching if it was safe. But at the same time, we sort of assume that the rules of television mean that nothing really horrible is going to happen to her. This isn't Spooks after all. But Jackie reminds us that for her this is real, and the truthfulness of all this once again gives the fantasy a rock-solid foundation that makes all the difference. She never gives the Doctor credit for sharing her concerns, but he does, and can not bring himself to give the order that fires the missile, yet again unable to do what must be done. Luckily, the MP for Flydale North, this week's locum and destined for greatness, is happy to take the tough decisions. 

It's obvious, but still needs to be said: World War III is anti-war and also anti-The War. Harriet Jones has to get it on record that she "voted against that". Less obliquely, the Slitheen declare that "massive weapons of destruction" are pointing at Britain and could be deployed within "forty-five seconds". It's not subtle, but that doesn't make it inappropriate. Doctor Who has poked a stick into the wasps' nest of politics in the past too, albeit rarely. Various Pertwee stories were 'about' industrial relations, or apartheid, or environmentalism, Fourth Doctor story The Sun Makers was nothing less than an attack on the Inland Revenue and The Happiness Patrol had seen the Seventh Doctor bring down an outer space Margaret Thatcher (Shelia Hancock in a pink wig).

Roughly a year before this episode was written up to a million people marched against British involvement in the Iraq War; I think it's fair to say that enthusiasm was not widespread. I was, initially, prepared to believe the government's claims about WMD, but only because it seemed so impossible that it would lie to me about it, either deliberately or accidentally. The sheer desperation of the scrabble for a UN resolution changed my mind, the goalposts continually shifting as the UK and US failed to make their case. It felt as if the war needed to take place no matter what. Whatever the rights and wrongs of toppling Saddam Hussein, ultimately there were no weapons of mass destruction and many British people were left with the feeling that some alien influence had somehow been able to steer the course of our country against our will, and that maybe it had all really just been about money.

In that light, the events of World War III become a kind of coup d'état. Doctor Who marches into the heart of government, leaves Tony Blair for dead and then demolishes Downing Street, eradicating the stain of war with fire. For an encore, Harriet Jones - an idealised, compassionate politician - is installed, her grip on power to be legitimised retrospectively by three landslide elections: Britain is restored. Forget the farting, this episode is angry, cathartic and important.

William was born just days before the invasion of Iraq went ahead so, needless to say, the boys are watching a different show to me, which is just as it should be. They're both thrilled and happily dole out 10s. Chris thought the Slitheen were "very, very, very scary" and loved the Doctor, calling him "funny and excited".

"What about when he's angry?" I asked.

"I think he's supposed to be, but I don't like it," he replied.

Wiliam agreed with all that but also mentioned the final scene, where Rose promises her mum that, thanks to time travel, she could be away for years and come back ten seconds later. The TARDIS leaves. Jackie sits and counts silently. But nothing happens.

"Good drama, that," said William.


NEXT TIME...

Aliens of London

"That's a good start," says William over the titles.

And it is. Once again RTD does a simple, tiny thing and makes Doctor Who seem utterly new. He takes the fantasy seriously, connects it to the real world of the audience, and finds wonderful human drama where the two intersect. The TARDIS, famously unreliable, has accidentally returned Rose home in the wrong year - so far, so The Visitation. But this has consequences: Rose has been missing, presumed murdered, the subject (presumably) of Crimewatch reconstructions; Mickey has been living under a cloud of accusations and interrogations; Jackie has been bereft. A few minutes later, the Doctor is sat watching the telly in the Tyler's living room surrounded by friends and neighbours. "I don't do domestic," he says. Oh, but you do Doctor, you do!

This is all marvellous shows exactly why RTD was the right person to bring the show back, and why it was such an incredible success. The programme, suddenly emotionally literate, connected into the world of the viewer, and a whole new audience of people were, in return, prepared to step into the TARDIS.

The episode's reputation has suffered though, particularly with parts of fandom who just couldn't get over the farting green aliens. Ah, the Slitheen. No, they're not necessarily going to end up in many people's Top Ten Doctor Who villains, but they are an original addition to the show and they're immensely popular with kids, at once repulsive, scary and funny (the Slitheen I mean, not the kids). Peer around them at the plot and there's an intriguing mystery beginning to build: a corruption of the (hopefully) dependable instruments of the state as politics, army and police are all infiltrated. The natural order of things is literally being perverted: many viewers won't forget the poor little pig forced up onto its hind legs and chased around the hospital, another victim of the Slitheen's plan.

It's in these scenes that Eccleston's Doctor recovers some of his authority, shouting orders at the sqauddies, questioning Tosh and remonstrating over the death of the pig. He manages to take charge at Number 10 too: in a room full of human experts (and Slitheen) he is calm and self-assured, right up until the trap is sprung.

Yes, a CLIFFHANGER! I had been waiting for this since, well, ever since Ace's eyes went yellow. I love cliffhangers. They're one of my favourite things about Doctor Who: the caveman's shadow, "You shall be like uzzzz...", the giant hand reaching down, "So you see, I'm not going to let you stop me now!" - well I could go on, obviously, but  the scream of the music, the moment of suspension as the jeopardy was sustained for a whole week... this was all something I got from Doctor Who, roughly three episodes out four, and I had missed it.

This is a good one. A lavishly comprehensive cliffhanger with all the 'good' guys threatened across multiple locations. I was happy then, it still satisfies now. Yes, the overly-prompt Next Time trailer kind of spoils it, but lessons were learned, just look at The Stolen Earth.

The boys, raised in the Netflix age, do not like cliffhangers. Maybe I'm being unfair, but I think they resent them and the feeling that something available is being withheld. And the better the cliffhanger, the more excited they are, the worse they like it. This one almost stops Chris giving the episode a 10. Almost.

"Was there nothing wrong with it?" I ask.

"Well, the cliffhanger wasn't very good."

"Oh," I say, prepared, "Why didn't you like it?"

"Have you *seen* The Pandorica Opens?" he cries.

Maybe his scale goes to eleven.

He described Aliens of London as "amazing and scary'. William also gave it a 10, praising the "great writing", scary cliffhanger ("I liked how they held back the reveal"), and Penelope Wilton's Harriet Jones ("I like her, she's nice"). It's a family show, aimed at anyone, but no one can deny that something skews Doctor Who towards 9 year old boys. The key demographic has spoken: this is a classic.

They were so excited they wanted to press on with part two. I made them wait.


NEXT TIME...

The Unquiet Dead

Finally some proper scares for the boys. Interestingly, neither of them remember watching this one before, and there's no coincidence: familiarity reduces fear. It also explains some of their undiminished enthusiasm - there are lots of episodes that they just haven't absorbed or re-watched and they are eager to see what they've forgotten. I think they are enjoying getting to grips with Eccleston's Doctor too, although they haven't said as much yet.

The Unquiet Dead is seen as an attempt to try and do 'traditional' Doctor Who within the new series' format. The macabre humour and horror trappings all hark back to the Hinchcliffe/Holmes era, whilst the Victorian setting specifically evokes classics like The Talons of Weng Chiang. But of course it feels more traditional when the TARDIS goes back in time, because visions of the present and the future are always having to be revised. A 2005 trip to the future will have to look different to anything we've seen before, whereas filming 1869 means finding an un-redeveloped street in Swansea and breaking into the BBC's extensive Costume Drama wardrobe.

And there is some innovation here. After decades (centuries?) of name-dropping, we get to see the Doctor rub shoulders with the great and the good. Yes, alright, we had previously (and infrequently) seen him encounter Marco Polo or George Stephenson, but such historical encounters were just period dressing. With The Unquiet Dead the audience begins to expect that the Doctor will meet famous people in the past. It also, with its treatment of Charles Dickens, establishes a template for some of these meetings. Far from just providing a flavour of the times, Dicken's presence here is substantial and consequential. There is a large amount of biographical detail woven through Gatiss' knowing script and the story ends with both Dickens and the Doctor each having comprehensively affected the other's life. We'll soon see the same thing happening with Queen Victoria, Madame du Pompadour, Shakespeare, Agatha Christie and Vincent van Gogh (though not with Churchill, Nixon or Hitler), and I'd argue that this style of episode has quickly become a staple of the new series.

Some of this is down to Simon Callow, definitively Dickensian, and the presence of an actor of his standing was a real shot in the arm for the show at this point. But credit must go to Gatiss (and RTD) for making this such a thoughtful script. But this comes at the expense of some action and excitement. The middle section, although lovely (Dickens talking to the Doctor, Rose talking to Gwynneth), does rather slow things down. The scares, though, when they come are excellent. Dead people sitting up and shuffling around, grasping at you - it's so simple, but Doctor Who has never really done zombies before. It all works brilliantly, and the boys were shifting in their seats each time the menace ramped up towards the intense cellar-full of lurching corpses.

Once again, the Doctor isn't in a position to save the day - it's up to Dickens to dash in and have the bright idea, and up to Gwynneth to posthumously destroy the Gelth. The Doctor's heroism is sacrificed, seemingly, so he can have that final moment with Rose - but unlike in the previous episodes this climax is missing the full emotional punch that helped compensate for the slightness of the resolution.

Nonetheless the boys enjoyed it a lot. William scored it a 9, enjoying a "well written mystery"; Chris liked the "cool zombies" and how Dickens became less grumpy during the episode, giving it an 8. I don't think it is quite as successful as those first two episodes. There's a lot of mileage in the 'immigration' aspects of the plot that goes unexplored and the gaseous Gelth should perhaps expand to fill some of the available space in the story.

But the bottom line is, of course, that we got to meet Charles Dickens! How cool was that?


NEXT TIME...

The End of the World

I don't know whether it's because I'm watching them again with the boys, but these early episodes are much better than I remember them. Or is it rather that I assume they must have dwindled compared to the greatness which is on the way? I'm not entirely sure, but I do know that this is good Doctor Who, and that it feels almost traditional now. And the boys love it, seemingly unconditionally: Christopher came this close to giving it a 10.

They liked the opening ("Oooh, a 'Last Time'!"), they like the aliens, they like the music, they liked Cassandra, in fact pretty much everything. William loves the twist at the end, and wonders if the AC unit's giant propellers are another, albeit mysteriously subtle, Titanic reference. Perhaps it's this season's arc? Chris loves that the Vortex is red when the TARDIS is future-bound, but blue when it's travelling into the past. He thinks the Doctor's hilarious, and our favourite Time Lord does seem much more relaxed already, genuinely enjoying himself, or maybe remembering how to enjoy himself, before Jabe rakes over the past and Cassandra provokes his wrath.

Ah, Zoë Wanamaker. I remember being greatly encouraged by her casting, even if she was only lending a voice to a "bitchy trampoline". Too much, of course, at the time to expect proper actors to want to physically appear in Doctor Who, but well done her I thought for lending some credibility to my poor television show. I was still nervous, still apologetic on DW's behalf, still ashamed to love it as much as I did. I couldn't imagine that it would achieve the astonishing success that followed after, that the likes of Derek Jacobi, Michael Gambon, Kylie (Kylie!), Timothy Flipping Dalton, would grace us with their screen presence. Back then, with Simon Callow waiting in the wings, I was not convinced that Doctor Who would triumph.

Given the chance to watch it again I find there is plenty to like here. Again the story is slighter than might be expected, slimmed down in order to allow time to focus on Rose's culture shock. It's the right decision and Billie Piper does great work here selling the reality of both Rose and her situation. The 'domestic' elements continue to work because RDT writes beautiful, truthful moments about real people who just happen to be watching the Sun explode in the year 5 billion. The pop music works very well, the CGI effects hold up still and Wanamaker is utterly brilliant, even off screen.

On the downside, it isn't very scary. They boys seemed to wobble when Raffalo got spiderised, but then they had forgotten all about that by the end ("Two out of ten for scariness," they claimed). They didn't like the Doctor's callous treatment of Cassandra either, labelling it "unDoctorlike". I know what they mean, but I think it was supposed to jar, even only two episodes in. Again, the Doctor fails to commit the final heroic act that we expect him to perform - here, though, he is not frozen or conflicted: his inaction is a deliberate choice and condemns Cassandra to die rather horribly. But, thanks to Jabe, we are beginning to hear about the Time War and to understand the Doctor's part in it - just how wounded must he be that he takes Rose to witness her own planet's demise? It makes Ace's trip to Gabriel Chase look tame in comparison and, in the light of what we now know it seems a perverse and twisted thing to do. Worse than that, it isn't an attempt to force catharsis upon his companion, but upon himself. It's a cry for help, just as the Tenth Doctor's first visit to New Earth signifies that he has been made well once more.

We all liked The End of the World. Chris gave it a 9, judgementally dropping a point to punish the Doctor for his treatment of Cassandra. William gave it an 8, calling it an "action-packed detective story." It's certainly solid Doctor Who, audaciously made and with a real emotional core.


NEXT TIME...

Rose

I don't know why I haven't written much about Doctor Who. I've nearly written lots of things, but they never made it out of draft. It's never been the right time, possibly. But don't worry, that's all about to change.

At some point I may have to explain my lifelong relationship with what is, let's face it, merely a daft but occasionally brilliant bit of telly. When I think of a way to do that that doesn't make me sound like a defensive obsessive, I'll let you know. 

But I can say that, although the original show was a personal, almost private, wonder, its rebirth is something I have been able to share wholly with my children. William, our oldest, was born the same year the announcement came that Russell T Davies was typing away. Then Christopher was born just a few weeks before the first new episode aired in 2005. (And yes, it is entirely coincidental that they share their names with the first and (then) current actors to play the Doctor; honestly, there is no way I could have consciously smuggled that past my wife, although I did, obviously, manage to subconsciously smuggle it past myself.) Most importantly, having given up hope that the show was ever going to return, I was delighted that my children would grow up in world where Saturday night TV meant Doctor Who.

And grow up with it they have, living their young lives alongside those of the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Doctors. Now William is ten, Doctor Who is fifty and the Twelth Doctor is about to materialise, we thought it was the right time to do something we've been meaning to do for ages: the three of us are going to sit down and plough through all of the new series, in order, and we're going to stick the results on here because fun is to be shared.

Rose was a big deal. Brand. New. Doctor Who. It's fair to say I was a little tense. It being Easter Saturday, we watched this with my parents-in-law and that didn't help because it just made me all the more keenly aware how much DW needed, how much I needed, the approval of the Not-We. What if it was rubbish?

The boy's have no memory of this first screening of course, and I don't blame them at all. They were both very small, (William not even three, which is what I was when I my hazy memory of Destiny of the Daleks Part One was formed) and there was some talk, if I remember correctly, about the fact that DW might be too scary for them, which is just silly; not because Rose isn't very scary, but because the scariness is part of the point of DW. The experience of watching the show is, or should be, that of someone taken beyond their comfort zone and made to confront the alien, the other. That is what happened to Ian and Barbara in November 1963, and that is what happens to Rose Tyler here.

I remember in an interview RTD saying that they had toyed with the idea of a pre-credits sequence for Rose. It would have worked brilliantly because those first zippy moments that establish Rose's life represent our world as it was without DW. It's only when she takes the lift down to the basement of Henrik's department store and paces through the Auton-filled shadows that Rose begins a journey into the universe of DW, one that ends with her running into the TARDIS in the closing moments.

Rose is a funny thing. On the one hand it is so carefully done, the re-introduction so gingerly made: the seemingly innocuous Police Box on the pavement, the mournful off-screen dematerialisation, both teasing, building up to Rose's eventual incredulous TARDIS entrance. This episode is desperate not to push away the casual viewer, to draw them in. All the while, these strange things are presented as happening in a very familiar setting. Rose and Jackie could be characters from Eastenders and RTD has them mention all sorts of friends and acquaintances - Derek, Wilson, Debbie-on-the-End, Beth, Greek-looking Arianna, Jimmy Stone - we never see them but they suggest a community, a wider world that helps cement our association.

On the other hand, Rose is a radical piece of Doctor Who, rewriting the show's rules and backstory - though we don't know that yet. Eccleston's Doctor might appear initially unconvincing (the forced jollity for one thing), but it is not the performance which is suffering. Rather it is the Doctor who is not himself, injured and traumatised by the as yet unnamed Time War. It's an astonishing weight to add to the character, but it works: crucially, it makes the Doctor more real to us, more understandable and more believable. The downside, dramatically, is that, not for the last time this series, the Doctor is impotent during the story's climax, paralysed and unable to commit the final act that saves the day. He has become instead a catalyst for heroism, an enabler, and here it's Rose with her bronze gymnastics medal, who is prompted to swing into action.

For me, the big surprise were the scenes depicting the Autons' awakening. It may be concentrated in the Queen Street shopping centre but compared with some invasions we've been shown, this is full on, dense with explosions, shattering glass, screaming victims and careering cars. It's an intense few minutes, but one that doesn't seem to have much impact on my boys as we rewatched: neither of them thought this was scary at all. They did both laugh quite a bit though, squealing at the Auton arm shenanigans, and again at Eccleston's London Eye pantomime. There was some nostalgia too (you're never too young to reminisce) for the old titles and music. On the other hand William didn't think much of the animation, criticising the wheelie bin in particular, and Chris wasn't sure about Billie Piper - so what would they, now the nascent show's key age group, score it out of ten? William offered a 7 and said it was a lot better than he remembered. Chris gave it a 9 and maybe, compared to Timelash, that's about right. I might not be quite as generous. The traditional invasion plot is slight, but rightly sidelined in order to focus on re-introducing so much. Like An Unearthly Child, Rose has a significance that outweighs its dramatic qualities. Unlike the original first episode, Rose is not intended to explain everything - more of these characters will be revealed over the coming episodes.

When the Doctor appears at her front door, almost intruding into our own reality, he asks Rose, "What are you doing here?" "I live here," she says. His pained reply, "What do you do that for?" is not only the best line in the story but a perfect explanation of the show's premise. Why sit at home when you could go... anywhere? And why put up with ordinary television when you could watch Doctor Who?


NEXT TIME...

And My Bird Can Sing

For a few weeks now there has been a bird sitting in the tree in my garden. It is visually unremarkable - brown, medium-sized - but it makes the most incredible noise, whistling and shouting for hours at a time. It's not birdsong so much as a weird incongruous collection of sounds, a sort of Space Invaders Tourettes: it seems compelled to pour forth, incessantly.

I've grown used to it. So much so that I would go so far as to say that I like it. I certainly miss it when the damn thing's not there. 

Today I found out that it is a Mockingbird, such a common thing in these parts that it is the state bird of no less than five states (Arkansas, Florida, Mississippi, Tennessee and Texas), but, of course, utterly unknown in Europe and therefore exotic and wonderful to me. 

'Silence is Death'

Thanks to my friend Elizabeth I found out about an amazing project called City of Asylum that tries to help writers around the world who are persecuted or endangered, so that "they can continue to write and their voices are not silenced."

It's an international network, but there are three American contributing centres: Las Vegas, Pittsburgh and Ithaca, NY. They help authors gain visas that allow them to live and work in the USA, and even provide stipends and short term help with housing. The Pittsburgh iteration currently supports exiled writers-in-residence from Burma, China, El Salvador and Venezuela.

It's a brilliant idea, one that deserves more resources and a greater profile. Amongst the best of America are the ideals of freedom of expression and freedom from fear - this project pursues both for the good of all of us.