Doctor Who: Daleks in Manhattan (1)

Martha: "I've always wanted to go to New York. I mean, the real New York, not the new new new new new one."

Is it sacrilege for a new fan of Doctor Who to state up front that I've completely had it with the Daleks? I realize they're the iconic Doctor Who villain, yadda yadda yadda, but they just do nothing for me. I thought the way they were treated in the smarter season one episode (appropriately named "Dalek") would have been a great way to address them and phase them out. But no. They just keep coming back. I want something new, dammit!

Ahem.

Whenever I have trouble figuring out what to say about an episode, I go for the "good bits/bad bits." What did I like about this episode? I liked the setting. New York in the thirties, the Empire State building, the despair of the Great Depression, Hoovervilles in Central Park. I liked the Faustian bargain of Diagores essentially selling his soul for success. Even Laszlo the heroic pig slave leaving roses for Tallulah with three Ls and an H (like Lynda with a Y) sort of worked for me.

But the climax. The Dalek-human Diagores was just ridiculous. One eye and tentacles with a three-piece suit? Less is more, people. This actually might have kinda sorta worked if they'd had him looking mostly human, but not quite. Maybe with tentacles stuffed into his sleeves. Express his alienness with acting choices. Could have been a lot more interesting.

Because you can never have enough metaphors, the stage show was about angels and devils. Maybe if the Daleks had performed on stage... Daleks singing and dancing. That at least would have been different.

Bits and pieces:

-- There's only one Doctor. (Okay, ten, but really.) There are only four Daleks. With the Doctor exploring the universe as well as a timeline of literally millions of years, how come he keeps finding them? They're drawn together, I suppose. Does that mean the Doctor lacks free will?

-- In order to illustrate why he got his name, the first thing Solomon did was break the stolen bread in half. I've sort of just realized, even though it was obvious, that a lot of Doctor Who seems to be about class struggle. Am I projecting?

-- In keeping with our general "we just do the same thing over and over again", Martha got kidnapped and the Doctor went after her, for the second episode in a row.

-- Paul is right that everyone had a different American accent, and some them were a bit much. Although it's true that in places like New York, you do tend to get people from all over.

Paul Kelly says...

Well, after the energetic shenanigans of "Gridlock", Tennant was back to his reserved, thoughtful self this week. This is how the Doctor should be played. I don't mind his manic outbursts. But there needs to be a balance. And Tennant, when he's in this mode, looks like the finished article. It's a shame the story was such a dud. My least favourite of all the Dalek stories.

I'm not qualified to speak on the authenticity of the accents, but they seemed, well... rubbish. Did New Yorkers in the 1930's really speak like that -- like they're in Bugsy Malone? In fact, didn't Jodie Foster play a Tallulah in that movie as well?

Martha struggled too this week. Thank goodness she was there to tell us that the green jellyfish brain thingy wasn't human. We'd never have known otherwise. And all that standing on the devil's tail and generally mucking up the show stuff seemed terribly clumsy. Poor Martha. She's gone from really quite clever to a bit of a dunce in just one episode. In future Martha, when you see a man/pig hybrid hiding in the wings... sod being discreet... just run after the damn thing.

And shame on the Radio Times for having a full colour photo of hybrid Sec on the front cover of its April 21st issue. Way to completely ruin the surprise guys. Not that it spoiled much. The hybrid was way too comical in appearance... with its strange accent, cyclops eye and crazy octopus hair (my friend came up with a more apt description of the head appendages, but I won't go into that right now for fear of offending)... to be anything other than laughable. The idea of creating a hybrid, I suppose, was reasonable. Despite their perceived weakness, humans continue to thrive. By contrast, the Daleks keep on failing. Perhaps their tendency to “hide from the dark”, rather than being a weakness, is actually their defining characteristic. They understand perfectly the principles of self-preservation and are able to discern more readily when to fight and when to flee.

But didn't Dalek Thay have a point? Isn't merging with humans completely contrary to the Dalek imperative? Especially when the end result is so ugly looking?

They'll have to do some work next week to drag this one out of the gutter. And I like musical theatre. What of it!!!

Quotes:

Union guy: "These new bosses. What's their names?
Dia whatever: "I think you could say they're from out of town."
Union guy: "Italians?"

Martha: "It's gone off, whatever it is. And you've got to pick it up."

Solomon: "Just exactly who are you?"
Doctor: "Oh, I'm just sort of passing by."

Martha: "Oh, he's not... we're not together."
Tallulah: "Oh, sure you are. I've seen the way you look at him. It's obvious."
Martha: "Not to him."
Tallulah: "Oh, I should have realized. He's into musical theatre, huh?"

All of our Doctor Who reviews are archived here.
(Season 3, episode 4) ... Read full post

Lost Lit: Stephen King’s The Waste Lands (Dark Tower III)

How can we live a life that has changed? How can we be ourselves with any certainty, if the past has been mis-remembered? What if it’s been altered? Or deleted?

Surely most of you have experienced this as much as I have. Some recollections are so real to me that I don’t question their reality—but the other participants in those recollections seem to have experienced a different situation entirely, or one with the same dialogues and stage directions, but different intonations, motivations, expressions, and emotions.

When literature, TV, movies—any and all of the great narrative styles of our sunshiny days—play with this resetting, we’re usually not too upset.

Most of the time, the effect is comic: Don Quixote is a fine example of a work that takes all the traditional trappings of the knight errant, follows all the beats of the medieval romance tradition, but up-ends it into a parody that is also a meditation on the transformative power of narratives in our lives.* But Don Quixote is a fool because he wants to be like a character in a book; he is a character in a book with whom we feel a connection, but a distant one: we can laugh at his delusions while avoiding scrupulous self-examination. We’re so busy enjoying the meta-fictional moment, so busy analyzing the serious business of literary parody, that we forget that even a parody is still, at bottom, an expression of the absurdities and desperation of human existence.

Perhaps this ironic self-distancing is also our way of ignoring the potential for truth in parodies—parodies specifically, more than other narrative styles. Take two examples of great parody: Dante’s Comedy and the James Bond movie Casino Royale. As the experts have it, the Comedy is actually a parody of a thirteenth-century prose romance, written in Old French, called The Romance of the Rose. (It’s pretty well-known, as these things go, but it doesn’t have the blockbuster status of Dante.) In the Romance of the Rose, the hero goes on a quest for a beautiful rose. There’s also lots of allegorical stuff, and some pretty intense meditations on the romance genre as a whole and the problem of knights loving women and loving God. Dante plays with all this by having his knight go on a quest for salvation and divine love (instead of the carnal love felt for the rose, which is really a vagina just like the Eye of Sauron) only to find Heaven filled with those damn flowers. But in Dante, the rose is just a symbol, something that must be analyzed and understood in order to get at the higher Truth behind it all. So Dante’s parody points out the futility of artistic creation (like the Romance of the Rose, or—to get meta—the Comedy itself) in expressing the Divine Order of the Universe and such.

So, in Dante, parody tells us about art’s failings while simultaneously creating a sublime expression of art’s greatest achievement. That greatness doubles back on itself to create a sense that only truly great art can point out the futility of art. Then is the greatest goal of art to destroy itself? To become, as the New Historicists say, a “self-consuming artifact”?

On the flip side, Casino Royale (the new one, with Daniel Craig) is a parody. Of a parody. The book was “for serious,” or as much as any Ian Fleming novel ever is serious. But the most well-known adaptation before the Daniel Craig version was a late 60s humorous parody of the whole James Bond ethos—think Austin Powers without the teeth. But the recent reinvigoration of the Bond franchise spurred the Bond Powers that Be to return to the book (the first Bond novel) and therefore to parody the 60s parody—to turn what had been upside down, right side up again. Interestingly (and I’m not much of a Bond fan, so I could be getting this wrong), these Daniel Craig Bond movies also seem to be the only ones that acknowledge their predecessors within the movie: Quantum of Solace feels like a sequel to Casino Royale, as Bond is working out the issues that came to a head in Casino Royale.

These Bond films have their own parodic hi-jinks: both metafictionally by playing with the Bond cannon and drawing our attention to the re-invention of a previous re-invention (and therefore telling us that this new Bond must be taken seriously); and internally, within the fictional logic of the story, as the repercussions of this new seriousness include a reformatting of the franchise into a series of related episodes, instead of just individual repetitions of sex, guns, fire, and salty goodness.

But very few of us—in fact, I’m willing to say none of us—experience a profound despair at the thought of recasting of either Dante’s magnum opus or the new moodiness of a British hottie. We allow literature to re-set itself, we allow texts to re-write the past and create new ones. It’s fun; it’s cerebral; it’s sometimes even sublime.

[Spoiler Warning: I’m going to allude to many of the clips showed at Comic-Con’s Lost panel! Proceed at your own risk! I also talk about Buffy Season Five and beyond, and Angel Seasons Four and Five.]

Roland Deschain, in The Waste Lands, gets to experience this re-setting for himself, with nearly catastrophic results (he also experiences some even crazier metafictionality later in the series; we’ll get there when we get there). In the first novel, Roland met, loved, and sacrificed the boy Jake to further his own quest for the Dark Tower. In the second novel, Roland slipped into America-land, and saved the boy Jake from the death that sent him to Mid-World in the first place.

Now, he has to reap the consequences. While Eddie and Susannah are happily learning how to be gunslingers (and gettin’ their newlywed on), Roland is experiencing a deep mind-split: half of him knows the boy is dead (in Mid-World); half of him knows the boy is alive (in America). Unknown to Roland, Jake is experiencing the same split: he knows he is dead; he knows he is alive. Jake, however, is less familiar with the problems of magic and the possibilities of other worlds, and he just thinks he’s going crazy. Also, he’s developed an obsession with doors.

Jake’s and Roland’s mind-splits have been the topic of some Lost chatter lately, in light of a few of the clips shown at Comic-Con last week. To wit (and stop reading here if you are really that spoiler free. Last warning.): is Season Six going to re-set the entire Lost plot? Did Juliet re-set the clock, so to speak? Is Hurley happy, rich, and safe in LA? Is Kate still a wanted fugitive? For this line of questioning, I picture the numbers on that flippy-number thing in the Hatch: when they hit zero, they jump around for a while on glyphs and such (much as some of our Losties jumped through time for a while) before resetting, with a little help, of course, where they started.

All that chatter, and the weird effect of watching those clips, had a strange effect on me—the result, obviously, was about 1000 words on the nature of parody and the problems of metafictional re-setting. I find myself less worried about the characters on Lost (What would the effect of a resetting be on them? Would they go crazy like Jake and Roland?) than on me, the watcher: if the past five seasons disappear, I will feel cheated, even though I can still watch those five seasons just as much as before. The re-setting reminds me that all is fiction, even though I knew this all along: but suddenly, the possibilities of fiction (in which reality can be re-set) intrude into a simulacrum of reality, and the pretense of veracity is lost.

[Buffy and Angel spoiler warning! If you haven’t seen these show yet, dear god stop reading and rent them, now!]

Buffy was the first show that I watch that did a major re-set: the appearance of Dawn and the implicit re-ordering of the first four seasons. The bigger Buffy re-set, of course, was the emotional discombobulation of ‘Normal Again’ in Season Six: Buffy as “some nutcase in LA” dreaming of life as a mythical avenger. The final shot of that episode, which seems to suggest that all of the Buffyverse is, in fact, a dream, is such a sucker-punch to the heart that I’ve just removed it from my personal inventory of Buffy canon. Buffy, in other words, is a horrible example for Lost to follow if they decide to re-set anything.

Angel, on the other hand, did it pretty well: at the end of Season Four, Angel bargains with Wolfram and Hart: Connor’s happiness, and the erasure of the entire world’s memory of the loss of peace on earth, in exchange for the keys to the evil kingdom. If Angel hadn’t been cancelled, it might have played out differently, but as it is, the real payoff to the erasure came near the end of the series, when Wesley re-remembers all of the pain of the previous five years. His despair reminds us that, sometimes, erasure can be a gift.

As far as The Waste Lands goes, the eventual erasure of Jake’s death is a gift—to Roland, and to the reader. Jake is a delightful character who brings out the best of Roland’s humanity. There’s a price for this erasure, though, that comes in the later books: trust me now when I say that all that sex Susannah had is there for a reason. I can still cry when reading Jake’s death in The Gunslinger, even knowing he’ll be back: it takes so much work for him to get back that the erasure of his death feels real and possible.

I’m just not sure about Lost, though. I like to think that those Comic-Con videos are just a hint of all of our worst nightmares: that the past five seasons would mean nothing; that season six would be a new start or—worse!—a pathetic attempt to get back to September 22nd, 2004. Watching characters experience a mind-split doesn’t sound nearly as enchanting as reading about them, although I am quite concerned that this is what Damon and Carlton mean when they said (after having been asked about flashforwards in the next season) that they were going to do something different than flashbacks and flashforwards in Season Six. Will we be stuck watching two branches of the timeline attempt to ‘course-correct’? And won’t that be kind of like torture?

And how meta-fictional is that? Precisely at the moment that the show becomes its most fictional, we become the most invested in the narratology of the reality it’s presenting. Freakin’ parody and its implications for metafictionality. Always getting in the way.
Of course, the Beam does ‘course-correct’ Roland and Jake. It’s here, in The Waste Lands, that we first find out about the Beams, which are the spokes on the wagon-wheel of existence that has the Dark Tower as its hub. It’s really interesting, although perhaps not overly productive, to think about the Dark Tower and the Lost Island in reference to the Beams. The Lost Island is movable, both through space and time, but the Dark Tower is fixed, the center of everything. The Beams are what hold it in place, and also (as we can see with the ‘course-correction’ they perform on Roland once he’s on the Path of the Beam) the straight line that keeps everything ordered.

I’m starting to wonder if the Lost Island is an anti-Black Tower (like anti-matter vs. matter, not like anti-choice and pro-choice). It’s a circle, Platonically speaking, and the Black Tower is a line. It’s movable; the Tower’s fixed. It isn’t held in place by anything; the Beams are the purpose of Roland’s existence. Maybe the Island isn’t where our Losties are supposed to go: maybe it’s where no one should ever go. What’s the opposite of the center of the universe? Should I start quoting Yeats? Is the opposite of the center the concept of diverging timelines? My brain hurts.


Dispatches from the Path of the Beam:

• So far, this review has been mostly me navel-gazing about the nature of fictional reality and its relevance to some throw-away Lost clips from a fan convention. If you’ve made it this far in the review…well, thanks.

• The Waste Lands feels like two half-books to me: the first half, all about getting Jake back; the second half, all about Lud and Blaine. I’m going to talk about Lud, Blaine, and their weirdly fictional status in my next review. I probably won’t mention it in the next review, but it’s also worth pointing out that the Path of the Beam is where we start to get out first indications of the incursions of other fictions into the Roland universe: Shardik, for instance. Are the Beams held up, in part, by literature itself? By the questions and problems of art? This is a question that will keep coming up, in various forms, through the rest of these books.

• I haven’t forgotten you, Oy! Oy is a billy bumbler who becomes Jake’s friend, and eventually a junior member of Roland’s ka-tet. I’ve always pictured Oy to be like the above photo of a Shiba Inu. Please enjoy.

• I mentioned the Romance of the Rose above: it’s one of those weird influences on the Dark Tower that I can’t quite figure out. As Stephen King tells it, his main influences were spaghetti westerns, The Lord of the Rings, and Browning’s poem about Childe Roland. But all this medieval quest stuff…

*For the purposes of this essay, I’m using ‘parody’ in the classical, Quintilian, sense of the subversion of a previous trope—not in the sense of a Weird Al Yankovic song, or at least not exclusively.

... Read full post

Doctor Who: Gridlock

Doctor: "New New York can start again. And they've got Novice Hame. Just what every city needs: cats in charge."

And it's back to New Earth.

There was so much that was illogical about this episode that it doesn't rate as sci-fi at all. But it made for a rather nifty existential metaphor. The motorway as life or even purgatory, Brooklyn as the afterlife, let there be light. Or maybe it was about class struggle, blessed are the meek. Maybe it was Jean-Paul Sartre does Cat People. Who knows.

Anyway. Loved all the individual little cars decorated like tiny apartments, and all the different types of people at the wheel. (Especially the first one, with the couple from American Gothic.) None of the numbers made sense, though. Twenty yards, we're having a good day. Five miles in twelve years. Thirty MPH in the fast lane. And I think after a year or two, I'd probably get out and walk. But what sort of metaphor would that make?

The Doctor finally showed some concern for Martha. She only had to get kidnapped get his attention. He does take his responsibility toward his companions seriously, though, and he's able to face unpleasant facts about himself. I liked that he finally opened up to Martha, told her about himself, and shared something important with her. Although by this point, if I were Martha, I'd be looking around for another time lord to hang out with.

And hey, there's another one out there. The important message the Face of Boe had for the Doctor was, you are not alone. Come on, now. I've seen only bits and pieces of the old Who, but even I know who that has to be.

The end, with the hymn "Abide with Me" and all of the cars flying into the light, actually got to me. The Doctor freed the people of New New York, with the help of Novice Hame and the Face of Boe, who gave his life for the people of the city. The Face of Boe died for their sins. I feel another metaphor coming on.

Bits and pieces:

-- The action took place in the year five million and 53. I always think it's a mistake to go so far into the future because it never looks futuristic enough. Come on. Flying cars are so 22nd century.

-- The previous episode about New Earth was called, well, "New Earth."

-- How did the couple manage to get *off* the motorway to kidnap Martha? And if everyone was dead, where did the "mood" pushers in the alley come from? Wait a minute. I wasn't going to ask questions about logic. Never mind.

Paul Kelly says...

A never ending traffic jam? I think I was in that once.

A visually stunning episode, with a theme we can all relate to (particularly if you're familiar with the M25). We also saw the welcome return of an old foe -- the Macra. We last encountered those guys back in '67 ("The Macra Terror"), when Troughton was king and the kilt was still viewed as acceptable companion apparel. Thankfully CGI has favourably enhanced the Macra. They don't look quite so much like Airfix kits these days. So an impressive, if low key, return for a semi-classic foe.

This episode, I suppose, was all about lies. The lies we tell others, and the lies we tell ourselves. For the past two episodes, the Doctor's been keeping Martha at arms length. His dealings with her have been strictly business -- one thank you trip and it's over (or, as it turns out, two). But tonight, rather than taking Martha home, he opened up to her instead. Yes, his lies were self-serving. But they were necessary to save him from his own dire reality. His whole race is gone! Dead. So why not pretend they're still alive every once in a while? How else are you supposed to get through the day?

And despite the Doctor not really knowing The Face Of Boe, there was an unmistakable kinship between them. Both are the last of their kind. Or are they? I loved the way Martha thought the Face Of Boe was talking about her ("you are not alone"), only to have the Doctor dismiss the notion without as much as a second thought. Wow! That's cold.

Oh well... there's no harm in dreaming, Martha.

Quotes:

Doctor: "The sky's a burnt orange. With a citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that, the mountains go on forever. Slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow."
Martha: "Can we go there?"
Doctor: "Nah! Where's the fun for me?"

Doctor: "Although, technically, it's fifteen New Yorks since the original. So it's New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York."

Martha: "You're taking me to the same planets that you took her?"
Doctor: "What's wrong with that?"
Martha: "Nothing. Just, ever heard the word 'rebound'?"

Doctor: "I love that coat. Janis Joplin gave me that coat."

Bran: "This Martha, she must mean an awful lot to you."
Doctor: "Hardly know her. I was too busy showing off. And I lied to her."

Doctor: "I've invented a sport."

Doctor: "Don't you go dying on me, you big old face."

Face of Boe: "I am the last of my kind. As you are the last of yours, Doctor." Except he's not.

All of our Doctor Who reviews are archived here.
(Season 3, episode 3) ... Read full post

Buffy season eight: Predators and Prey

Buffy: "Fine. You can keep the island. Now give me back my nerd."

Synopsis:

Andrew rushes into Slayer Central with news that he has a lead on rogue slayer Simone Doffler; Simone's lieutenant, Nisha, has gotten ensnared in the trap of a Ragna spider demon.

Buffy and Andrew take planes, trains and automobiles to Italy. Andrew natters on about geek stuff constantly during the trip. When he finally hits on Daniel Craig as James Bond, he and Buffy have something to talk about. I thought she'd kill him, but no. Buffy has finally adjusted to Andrew.

They find Nisha in the spider demon's iron and steel web. Buffy discovers that there actually are no Ragna spider demons any more; Andrew had bred them back into existence and set up this whole situation with Nisha to catch Simone, because he was Simone's watcher and felt that her rogue state was his responsibility. The trap works, but backfires; Simone shows up, using Wicca transport, and leaves with the spider demon as well as Nisha.

Andrew is able to track the spider demon he created to an island off the coast. Simone has taken over the island, thrown the residents out, and trashed it. She plans to use it as a base for attacking pretty much everything. Buffy and Andrew find Simone and her gang of slayers at the opera house. Simone offers to give Buffy the demon spider in return for Andrew; Simone wants revenge on him because he was her watcher and she seems to have a problem with authority figures. Buffy says no.

Big Buffy/Simone battle, with fencing foils, even. Simone is losing, so she pulls a gun on Buffy. Simone still wants to trade the spider for Andrew, and Andrew offers to sacrifice himself, taking responsibility for his own failure with Simone. Again, Buffy says no.

Just as it looks like everything is lost, Andrew's slayers arrive to save their watcher. The tide of battle turns. Buffy, Andrew and the good slayers leave and Buffy shoots the lock off the spider demon's cage as a farewell present to Simone.

Buffy assures Andrew that screwing up is part of being a Scoobie. Andrew realizes that he is now "one of the family."

Review:

This one was fun, for (again) a stand-alone episode that wasn't about the Scoobies. Although, to be fair, Andrew has slowly morphed into a semi-Scooby. And at least Buffy was in the entire issue, even though she was Andrew-adjacent.

It certainly does raise (or technically, re-raise) an important question. How do you solve a problem like Simone and her band of very bad slayers? Buffy couldn't take that Island back; a gang of slayers are nearly unbeatable. Twilight may actually sort of be right about slayers, except for the evil and the misogyny.

This issue was about Andrew finally being fully accepted for himself. Despite his geek-i-tude, Andrew has grown up, manned up, and taken responsibility for the slayers in his care. Unfortunately, they can tell us Andrew is a Scooby until the cows come home, but I want issues about Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles. I also want them to wind up the Twilight arc, because it's taking forever. And are we ever going to see Spike?

Bits and pieces:

-- Simone Doffler going rogue and committing crimes was mentioned in issue 11, "A Beautiful Sunset." I honestly didn't remember who she was.

-- Simone and sixteen slayers. Good name for a rock group.

-- The cover is Buffy and Simone with foils. Simone is the one with the purple mohawk.

Quotes:

Xander: "Forgive her. We're up to our eyeballs, or, for some, eyeball, in Harmony fallout."

Some of Andrew's funnier lines during the road trip:

"...which is why I always thought Vanity Smurf was kind of misunderstood..."

"...but the worst part was that Lee got really fat, and Dualla was probably all, Come back, Billy, but he couldn't come back, because he was dead, so now she was stuck with Fat Lee, and that was NOT what she signed on for, believe me..."

"...so I say if you have to do another movie, fine, I get it, but who cares about Ahnold, you gotta bring back Linda Hamilton, that's who people want to see..."

Buffy: "Oh! and that thing where he's running on rooftops and cranes? I've done that, and I was *still* scared for him."
Andrew: "Right! I know! Gritty, real, and vulnerable!"
Buffy: "And those swim trunks. Hello, daddy."
Andrew: "Yeah, I have no opinion about those."
Buffy: "Andrew, are we geek-bonding? You and me? Who'd have thunk?"
Andrew: "I know. Oooh, what about Pierce Brosnan? Did you like him?"
Buffy: "In what? Mrs. Doubtfire?"

Andrew: "We might not come out of this alive, and I want to make sure I've said everything I need to say to you. And now I have. Wait, no, also, now that I've met Angel, I have to say, Spike was so much edgier, you definitely traded up, I'm totally team Spike. Also, I know I'm in the minority, but I liked it when you cut your hair. There. Now I've said everything."

Andrew: "I'm just one. The needs of the many outweigh the needs..."
Buffy: "Andrew, I've been hanging out with Xander for eight years. I've geek-bonded with him, too, and I'm familiar with the book of nerd quotes. I'm not moved."

I liked this one. Didn't love it,

Billie

All of my Buffy reviews are archived here.
(Season eight comics, issue 23)

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Doctor Who: The Shakespeare Code

Doctor: "The play's the thing! And yes, you can have that."

Okay, so it was Shakespeare in Love with aliens. I still found it to be one of the more enjoyable trips to the past. There were lots of witty lines, I never stopped smiling, and the story never stopped moving.

Great casting of Shakespeare. He was fun and brilliant and sexy and open-minded and smart enough to figure out what the Doctor and Martha were. I thought the fourteen-sided Globe having alien properties was a fun idea, and I liked the idea of words having power, because they do. Just not like that.

Martha brought up the butterfly effect and the grandfather paradox. Probably what I'd do in my first trip to the past, too. The Doctor countered with Back to the Future. In fact, Martha was smart, enthusiastic, accomplished and on top of the situation. Shakespeare was constantly hitting on Martha; he saw her as beautiful, brilliant and exotic (which she certainly was for 1599, if not for today as well).

But no matter what Martha did, the Doctor seemed to find her inadequate -- even when they were in bed together. (She thought sharing a small bed in an inn would be romantic. The Doctor squelched that in a moment. For that matter, why even bother when they could sleep in the Tardis?) For the Doctor, it's still all about Rose, Rose, Rose. You'd think the Doctor would start letting go of Rose and start paying more attention to the one he's with. But no.

Great ending. One wonders exactly what the Doctor will do to piss off Queen Elizabeth I.

Bits and pieces:

-- This episode inspired me to look up Love's Labours Won, which may indeed have been a lost play of Shakespeare's. Although there is also a theory that it was the title of a play whose name was later changed.

-- Martha was the first to start the tradition of yelling "author"!

-- The Doctor carries a toothbrush in his pocket? Venusian spearmint?

-- The Doctor carried out a Vulcan mind meld on Peter Streete, in Bedlam.

-- The Doctor said he planned to keep the crystal ball with the trapped Carrionites (very Phantom Zone) in the Tardis. I think I'd find it unsettling to have something like that hanging around my home. But where else could he put it?

Paul Kelly says...

This is an episode which gets better with multiple viewings. Sixteenth century London looked simply beautiful. Admittedly, someone throwing a bucket of urine out the window, did damped the mood somewhat (though thankfully, nobody's clothes). But it also added to the realism. Disgustingly so. And it certainly didn't phase Martha, who's seen far worse working night-shifts in the A & E.

It was nice too that they didn't shy away from Martha being a black woman in an age of slavery. But the Doctor saying "I'm not human", isn't really the same as Martha being black, is it? It's easy for him to hide his differences. He's white and looks human. For Martha, walking around like she "owns the place" isn't going to hide the colour of her skin. Not that it turned out to be a problem. Even the bard found her rather comely. Don't blame you, Shakey.

And Martha was right. Shakespeare looked nothing like his portrait. Isn't he supposed to be bald and a bit odd looking (if the Droeshout engraving is to be believed)? And instead of being the eloquent wordsmith of fable, he turned out to be a loud-mouthed and uncouth, braggart. Not that he didn't have his charms. He turned out to be something of a genius. He was certainly clever enough to peg the Doctor as an alien and Martha as from the future. So kudos to the bard.

Shame about the bad breath, though.

Quotes:

Martha: "Blimey! Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"
Doctor: "Yes, and I failed."

Martha: "When are we?"
Man: "Garde a l'eau!"
Doctor: "Somewhere before the invention of the toilet."
Martha's first real adventure started with shit. This could very well be an omen, Martha.

Doctor: "When you go home you can tell everyone you saw Shakespeare."
Martha: "Then I could get sectioned."

Martha: "Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell. And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"
Doctor: "London never changes."

Shakespeare: "Oh, no no no. Who let you in? No autographs, no you can't have yourself sketched with me, and please don't ask where I get my ideas from."

Martha: "It's all a bit Harry Potter."
Doctor: "Wait 'til you read book seven. Oh, I cried!"
This was broadcast before book seven came out, of course.

Doctor: "Psychic paper. Long story... oh, I hate starting from scratch."

Doctor: "Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Shakespeare: "I might use that."
Doctor: "You can't. It's someone else's."

Doctor: "We can all have a good flirt later."
Shakespeare: "Is that a promise, Doctor?"
Doctor: "Fifty-seven academics just punched the air."

Shakespeare: "The Doctor may never kiss you. Why not entertain a man who will?" Really.

All of our Doctor Who reviews are archived here.
(Season 3, episode 2)

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True Blood: Hard-Hearted Hannah

Daphne: "What? You don't like drums?"
Sam: "It's just that in my experience, no good can come from drum music."

Whoa. All of a sudden, everything changed from sexy and funny, to creepy and scary.

I wasn't a bit surprised when Daphne turned on Sam. Her being Maryann's pet pig made perfect sense. Sam is a cutie, and deserves a lot better. Well, he certainly deserves not to get sacrificed with a great big old knife. Maryann has horns now. Sam is in deep crap.

What happened to Eggs? What did he see, and why can't he remember? Was it the sacrifice of Miss Jeanette, perhaps? Poor Eggs isn't a minion at all; he's a victim, isn't he? Did he start remembering stuff because he wasn't near Maryann any more?

I just realized that the Fellowship and Maryann may be doing the same thing: sacrifices. The Fellowship *does* have Godric prisoner in their basement. And they're planning a great big vampire sunshine cook-out, with a pseudo-crucifixion, no less. Why Godric? Because he's two thousand years old, corresponding to the crucifixion of Jesus?

How did Steve and Sarah know that Sookie and Hugo were spies? Sarah Newlin felt sorry for Sookie, although I'm sure she didn't know Sookie was Jason's sister. And Sarah just succumbed to sin with Jason right there on the church balcony. I find Sarah rather creepy, but she doesn't seem to be the complete psycho that her husband is. Although if Sarah thinks that Jason is the great man she was destined for, she's got a surprise coming her way.

That flashback to Lorena and Bill was an eye opener. They were crazy about each other, and they were vicious, unrepentant killers. (Sort of like Natural Born Killers, but with vampires.) The scene with that couple was really gruesome; it was almost like mud wrestling, but with blood. Bleah. I didn't think Bill was capable of being so cruel. I also don't think he's been faking goodness with Sookie; it's possible that Bill has changed a lot. But he was a very bad boy in the past, and not in the funny or cute sense of the word "bad."

Speaking of Eric, did he summon Lorena just to get Bill out of the way, or did he also hope Sookie would learn about Bill's evil past? That might make Eric look pretty good to Sookie by comparison, wouldn't it?

As usual, there wasn't enough Eric in this episode to suit me. There was a brief scene with him and a woman he was biting; apparently, Eric prefers an unwilling victim, or at least one that's faking some reluctance. :) I found it odd that he bit her, and paid her for it, right there in the hotel lobby, though; I had gotten the impression, possibly from the books, that that was like having sex in public. And we can't have that. No, wait, we're getting a lot of that, aren't we?

Bits and pieces:

-- Was that Stephen Moyer doing his own singing of "Hard-Hearted Hannah" in the flashback? He's good, but it was certainly a strange new side of him.

-- Bill and Lorena back in Chicago of 1926 were pretending to be from France, which always makes me think of the Coneheads.

-- Lorena hasn't seen Bill in over seventy years. Eric hasn't seen Godric in even longer.

-- Hugo wanted his vampire lover Isabel to turn him; they fight about it constantly. Hugo seemed surprised that Sookie didn't feel the same way.

-- Terry fending off his cousin Andy and helping Lafayette with his fear was very sweet. I also thought that seeing Eric as Andy in Lafayette's imagination was quite funny. Eric just doesn't come off as a redneck, even in Andy's clothes. :)

-- I can't even guess why Eric would want Lafayette to deal V again. No, wait. To track down bad guys dealing V. Okay, that was easier than I thought. I just had to ponder for a moment.

-- Maxine went too far, and Hoyt rebelled. It's about freaking time. Jessica has actually been good for Hoyt. What a surprise. Loved her pouring the $45 Tru Blood down the drain.

Quotes:

Eric: "Tell your manager you were magnificent. I'll back up your story if he calls."
Was Eric actually being sweet to that... what do you call someone you pay for blood? Blood hooker? Blooker?

Steve: "Ding ding ding ding ding!"
Jason: "Jesus Christ!"
Steve: "Well, yes, him, but the sun, too."

Jason: "Adultery's bad."
Luke: "One of the worst. Right up there with incest and beastiality. But all of them put together ain't half as bad as if you do it to a vampire. Or to a dude. Or a vampire dude. That's like the cream de la cream of sin. There's no repentance for that. Straight to Hell, baby."

Hugo: "That's Sarah Newlin. She's the reverend's wife."
Sookie: "Right. You know, in person, she looks like vanilla pudding."
There's definitely a pudding vibe about Sarah.

Andy: "I know that pig!"

Steve:"It's the rock that our church was built on. Much like Saint Peter's tomb in the Catholic Church, only without being polluted by evil. Did you know that there was actually a vampire pope back in the Middle Ages?"

Sarah: "He's vicious and he's cruel and he uses the C word."

Another engrossing episode. Or maybe it was just gross. I can't decide,

Billie

All of my True Blood reviews are archived here.
(Season 2, episode 6)

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Doctor Who: Smith and Jones

Doctor: "I'm the Doctor."
Martha: "Me too, if I ever pass my exams."

There was a lot I liked about this one.

The structure of this episode was a deliberate callback to "Rose" (and probably to many episodes introducing a new companion). Big public building that she works in, terrible alien threat. He even yelled "Run!" and grabbed her hand to pull her along.

I liked the idea of the Royal Hope Hospital on the moon. Rhino stormtroopers in space were a fun concept, even though the Judoon were too much like Cybermen, what with the tramping about in formation. (And on the moon with low gravity, even.) Salt vampire? Star Trek, although the straw was a nice touch, and I liked how the Doctor charmed her into thinking he was harmless. But I found the Doctor's death confusing. And where did the electricity for the computers and the superharmful jazzed up MRI come from? How would a being made entirely of leather even be able to stand? And didn't they run out of air rather quickly?

And I like Martha Jones, even though she didn't grab me right out of the gate like Billie Piper did. In many ways, she's a perfect companion for the Doctor. She enjoyed the adventure and immediately threw herself into it. She's practical, resourceful, and not easy to scare. And at least, unlike Donna, Martha actually noticed the Christmas Invasion and Canary Wharf, and accepted them as evidence that aliens do indeed exist.

But you know, it was like, after the Doctor and Rose's rather tragic, star crossed, alternate universe love affair, the writers were setting him and Martha up as a romantic couple from the get go, with no back story and no chemistry between them. The Doctor was deliberately charming Martha into coming with him, and he even kissed her, using genetic transfer as an excuse.

Martha clearly thought the Doctor was romantically interested in her when she decided to go along; you could tell by their exchange. Is he? Is he really, when he's still missing Rose? I didn't think the Doctor ever got truly romantically involved with anyone. But I don't know the earlier Doctors at all. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Bits and pieces:

-- Martha's arguing family got tiresome. But I reminded myself that I did learn to like Jackie and Mickey, almost in spite of myself.

-- Martha said her cousin Adeola worked at Canary Wharf, and never came home. Just to cover Freema Agyeman being in that episode. Nice continuity there. Although I must say that I have lots of cousins, and none of them look exactly like me.

-- Episode about a salt vampire, and her first victim was named Stoker. Bram Stoker wrote Dracula.

-- Did the Doctor's hair look pointier, or was he just having a bad hair day? I know. Hospital bed head.

Paul Kelly says...

Probably the best of the "new companion" episodes. Mind you, it's not up against the stiffest of competition. But it did its job in introducing us to Martha. Some parts of it were a little too much. The hospital patients, for example, went way too far with their screaming and angst. But apart from that, it was a satisfying mix of the weird and the improbable. We had a vampire drinking blood through a straw... the Judoon, with their high-tech scanners and low-tech marker pens... a hospital being transported to the moon... and the Doctor expelling radiation into his shoe, before chucking it in the bin. So, all in all, it was pretty crazy.

The Doctor's first meeting with Martha was ostensibly unremarkable. He simply took off his tie and walked away. But later in the hospital there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Martha instinctively chose not to reveal the Doctor's unusual anatomy to her colleagues, and similarly, the Doctor found himself trusting in Martha immediately. If there's one thing the Doctor loves it's a clever human. And there's much to like about Martha. She's smart, logical, beautiful and level-headed in a crisis. Ideal companion material in fact. And, likewise, there was much to attract Martha to the Doctor. His tight suit for instance. And I know Martha said she wasn't interested in him and that she only goes for humans, but when he kissed her... well, I suddenly found myself not buying it. She's already smitten.

A pretty solid week too, villain wise. The Judoon looked great and Florence Finnegan was suitably creepy as a crazy old vampire. This isn't Anne Reid's first adventure in the Whoniverse. Twenty years ago, she played Nurse Crane in "The Curse Of Fenric" (Sylvester McCoy). But how did the Judoon manage to march in the moon's gravity? And, if the rain was going up, then why were the clouds at the top? Shouldn't they have been at the bottom? Answers on a postcard please.

And it looks as though they intend to continue with their "thread a phrase through the season" ploy; which will no doubt culminate in an entirely unexpected conclusion (sighs). We had two "Mr Saxon" references this week. He was mentioned by Morgenstern during the radio broadcast and there was a Mr Saxon poster in the background later in the episode.

Quotes:

Doctor: "My mate, Ben. That was a day and a half. I got rope burns off that kite, and then I got soaked."
Stoker: "Quite."
Doctor: "And then I got electrocuted."
Stoker: "Moving on. I think perhaps a visit from Psychiatric."

Doctor: "You fancy going out?"
Martha: "Okay."
Doctor: "We might die."
Martha: "We might not."
Doctor: "Good. Come on."
That's the Doctor/Companion relationship in a nutshell, isn't it?

Doctor: "It's a screwdriver and it's sonic. Look."
Martha: "What else have you got? A laser spanner?"
Doctor: "I did, but it was stolen by Emily Pankhurst. Cheeky woman."

Doctor: "Judoon platoon on the moon."

Doctor: "Solid leather, all the way through. Someone has got one hell of a fetish."

Doctor: "Crossing into established events is strictly forbidden. Except for cheap tricks."

Doctor: "I mean, rhinos from space! And we're on the moon! Bloody space rhinos with guns on the moon! I only came in for my bunions. Look. All fixed now, perfectly good treatment, the nurses were lovely. I said to my wife, I'd recommend this place to anyone. But then we end up on the moon! And did I mention the rhinos?"

Doctor: "I'm a time lord."
Martha: "Right! Not pompous at all, then."

Doctor: "Welcome aboard, Miss Jones."
Martha: "It's my pleasure, Mr. Smith."

All of our Doctor Who reviews are archived here.
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Buffy season eight: Swell

Harmony: "These slayers hacked, burned, and blew up millions of fluffy stuffed kitties! And why? Because they had tiny little fangs! They hate us so much they're killing toys now."
Larry King: "Well, that's just mean."

Synopsis:

The slayers in Tokyo, led by Satsu, are tracking down a huge monster that has ripped off an armored car. Kennedy drops in (literally, by parachute) to check up on them. The monster ripped off a small bag labeled "Santorio Corp." that contains a small stuffed animal toy: a white vampire kitten. It's a prototype of a new toy called "Vampy Cat" due to hit the stores next week, which explains why it was in an armored car, I suppose. Satsu and Kennedy take down the monster and take the Vampy Cat back to the slayer lair.

Night. Quiet. Vampy Cat is sitting on a bench. Vampy Cat moves. Vampy Cat checks out the slayer lair. Vampy Cat pulls itself up on Satsu's bed, where Satsu is sleeping.

The next morning, Kennedy notices that Satsu is not herself. Satsu is talking about giving up girls, kissing boys and having babies, and leaving the slayer life behind because slayers are so evil. Kennedy tries to take Satsu to a local witch and Satsu responds with slayer moves. Big Satsu/Kennedy fight, with Satsu's eyes turning red. A big blow on Kennedy's part knocks a gross-looking, vomit-covered and still aggressive Vampy Cat right out of Satsu's mouth. Yech. Satsu slices and dices it with a handy sword. She's herself again, furious, hitting the mouthwash, and ready for payback.

Kennedy, Satsu and a slayer contingent helicopter to the Santorio Corp. They take out the crumbly guy with red eyes who sent the monster, and hitting the computers, they learn that vampy cat toys just went global, and a half a million of them are on a ship headed for Scotland. Which is why the vampy cat had taken Satsu -- to find out where Buffy was.

On the ship, Satsu and Kennedy are attacked by lots of red-eyed, long-toothed vampy cats and red-eyed, crumbly-looking guys. A head vampy cat, growing absolutely huge and looking like a panda on acid pretending to be the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man, spouts a lot of misogynistic, slayer-hating crap. It says, "We are the Swell! We are legion!" The Swell work for Twilight.

Satsu makes vampy cats into chopped up stuffing while Kennedy kicks butt. Vampy cats try to get down their throats. Kennedy sends up a flare. A waiting submarine staffed by slayers torpedoes the ship, and Kennedy and Satsu hit the water as the ship and the huge vampy cat explode.

Kennedy and Satsu report to Buffy and Xander electronically. Buffy instructs the slayers to stay low profile, act human. Public opinion is currently in favor of those harmless, fun vampires and against the slayers. Clip of Harmony on Larry King talking about how persecuted vampires are.

Satsu throws the cinnamon lip gloss (metaphor for her fling with Buffy) in the trash as she leaves the Tokyo slayer lair with Kennedy. Time to move on.

Review:

This is the third stand-alone issue in a row, and the second centered around minor characters. I hope this isn't a trend. Although it wasn't bad, for an issue about two minor characters I care nothing about.

Twilight is not only a slayer-hater, he's a homophobe and a misogynist. Even though Twilight doesn't appear, the vampy cats (or Swell, or whatever) were his creatures, and there was a disturbing woman-hating, gay-hating theme.

I did think it was fun to base an issue around two lesbian slayers. Although at this point, I'm more interested in what's going on with the Scoobies as well as the slayers in Scotland. Dare I hope that Kennedy is interested in Satsu? I'd love it if Kennedy were interested in Satsu. Probably not. Sigh.

Bits and pieces:

-- At one point, Satsu said, "Buffy sends the other lesbian slayer to check up on me, and I'm the one you're yelling at?" I'm assuming that with a couple of thousand slayers in the world, more than two of them are lesbians.

-- Apparently, Satsu acquired a submarine because some vamps took it from the Koreans and she took it from the vamps. I'm sure the submarine will be back later, since we were told about it so pointedly.

Quotes:

Satsu: "If Buffy wants to review my ass, she can do it herself. Won't be the first time."
Kennedy: "Don't be a brat, Slinky. That's my profession, and I don't like amateurs crowding me."

Slayer: "Ducking is just as important as the hitting, Ayumi. More. Duck, don't get hit."
Ayumi: "That thing had four arms! I ducked the first three!"

Kennedy: "Oh, my god! What the hell are you wearing?!"
Satsu: "It's a furisode! Girls wear them when they come of age to show they're single and available for marriage. My parents bought it for me, before I destroyed them with my gayness. Ah, they were so right! The whole kissing girls thing? Blechh! Girls should kiss boys and have their babies!"

Kennedy: "I don't know what the geisha's gotten into you, but may we oughta mosey down to your resident witch and--"
Satsu: "Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty slayer!"
Ah, Planet of the Apes. You live forever.

Vampy Cat: "Attack, my brothers! Eat their #%&@ing ovaries!"

Buffy: "All the vampy cat shipments have been destroyed, along with the factory they spawned from. But--"
Satsu: "There's a but?"
Xander: "Big buts come with the slayer territory these days and I probably should have reviewed that sentence before unleashing it on the sensitive womenfolk."

Kennedy: "Not the hey-guess-what?-you-turned-me-gay speech you were probably hoping for, huh?"

A bit better than "Harmonic Divergence,"

Billie

All of my Buffy reviews are archived here.
(Season eight comics, issue 22)

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Buffy season eight: Harmonic Divergence

Harmony: "Everyone's curious about us vamps these days. I think I fingered a zeitgeist."

Synopsis:

Harmony and her two Pomeranians try to get into a club called "Elite," and are rejected. With lots of famous people and papparazzi around, Harmony picks up Andy Dick, takes him into an alley and bites him. Someone takes her photo. Headline: "Hot vamp gets taste of A. Dick."

With a taste of fame, Harmony gets herself an agent (and bites him), pitches her own reality show called Harmony Bites to MTV, and the show is picked up.

Meanwhile, a young Latina woman in L.A. turns sixteen and tries to leave her gang, Las Cuchillas. They attack her and she defeats them all. She sees the "Are you a slayer" television commercial created by Andrew and Vi, realizes she is a slayer, and waits for them to find her. Which they do. She rejects Buffy's offer to join the slayer army and decides to go it alone.

This unnamed young slayer goes to a shop called "Do You Ink I'm Sexy" and has her Las Cuchillas tatt covered with roses. Harmony and her entourage (including Clem, who is carrying her many Pomeranians) come in. The young slayer sees this as her chance to get close to, and slay, a vampire, and talks to Harmony's producer, who offers her a gig as an extra in a party scene.

At the taping for an episode of Harmony Bites, Security takes away the young slayer's stake at the door. She searches around for something wooden and settles on breaking up the clapper. (How symbolic. Harmony's fame will kill her.) The slayer attacks Harmony during the taping. Big fight. Harmony gets the splinter piece of the clapper away from the slayer and stabs and bites the slayer, killing her.

Ratings go through the roof. Vampires *and* slayers are outed to the general public. The producers are thrilled that they have a great villain -- thousands of slayers -- for their new reality show.

The Scoobies discover what's happening by reading about it in People, and try unsuccessfully to contact the media with their side of the story. Too late. The world believes that slayers are evil.

Review:

Okay, but hardly worth the effort.

Yes, I like Harmony as a character. If they needed a lightweight, unthreatening vampire to lull human beings into thinking vamps were no big deal, then Harmony was definitely the best choice in the Buffyverse. And if the point was to bring vampires and slayers into the public eye in an amusing way, they did it.

Although you'd think a young girl actually dying on a reality television show would cause some commotion.

Bits and pieces:

-- On a white board is a schedule written by the producers of future projects: "Who wants to be sired?" "Flavor of blood," "Undead chef," and "Project vampire."

-- Apparently, Clem has a tatt; it's a cartoon duck tattoo somewhere in his folds.

-- Dawn is still a centaur.

-- Where are the Scoobies? Are they still in New York?

Quotes:

Buffy: (to the young slayer, on phone, bad connection) "Honor, BRFFFF... duty. Together... over BZZT death... evil candy... sometimes there are snakes... honor."

Young slayer: "What the pink hell is this?"
Producer: "It's Harmony. You know her show, Harmony Bites, right?
Young slayer: "Um, no."
Producer: "That's okay. It's probably not gonna make it. Reality show about a vampire, only nothing much ever happens."

Producer: "We're doing some investigating , but it seems like there's a whole slayer army. Very organized, very violent. Best villains since the Nazis! Better!"
Harmony: "Yay! Better than Nazis! Can you feel the zeitgeist? It's all tingly!"

Buffy: "What the hell is wrong with people?"
Andrew: "People suck. Ooooh, Anderson Cooper."

Anderson Cooper: "Keeping us honest tonight, our guest, television personality Harmony Kendall..."
Harmony: "You promised to introduce..."
Anderson Cooper: "And her dog, Queen Puffles of Pomerania."

Eh,

Billie

All of my Buffy reviews are archived here.
(Season eight comics, issue 21)

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Torchwood: Children of Earth, Day 5

Gwen: "I'm recording this in case anyone ever finds it. So you can see... you can see how the world ended."

It would have been wrong to tack a feel-good ending as a conclusion to this incredibly dark and heavy mini-series. The ending they gave us made sense. But my word, it was depressing.

"Children of Earth" was about immortality. And not just the horror of what happened to Jack and to those eleven children from 1965. For humans, our immortality is our children, our genetic legacy. Gwen's pregnancy. Frobisher's daughters. Ianto's niece and nephew. Jack's grandson, Steven.

Would Jack have died for his grandson? In a minute, I don't doubt it. When Jack sacrificed his grandson, he gave up something even more important to him than his own life. But what choice did he have? The situation was what it was. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Sacrificing millions of children was impossible, but sacrificing one child to save thirty-five million from worse than death? It should never have been a numbers game, but how could Jack *not* have done it?

I thought for a moment that Steven would revive, that he would take after Jack. But that would have been the easy way out, and I just wouldn't have believed it. Impossible for Jack to just go back to work after all this. But Jack will eventually get over it. He has to. He still has to live with himself, because he has no choice.

When Frobisher was going up the stairs with that gun behind his back, I knew what he was going to do. I so wanted him to tell the press, to hold Green hostage, anything -- but what he did was in character. He knew better than anyone on earth what would happen to his daughters. How could Green think even for a moment that Frobisher would go through with it? I thought about it and realized that it was probably because Green himself was subhuman. Green would have been capable of sacrificing his own kids if they'd been young enough, and he thought Frobisher was like him. Wrong.

This ending desperately needed to show that people could be heroes as well as villains, and it did. Bridget did what Frobisher should have done, bless her heart. (I could tell there was something weird about that visit to Lois, but I didn't guess what it was.) Alice was the one who got Johnson on board and set the end in motion. Gwen, Rhys and Rhiannon hid all those children. Johnny passed the word on to save other people's children, and actually attacked the riot police. So did Andy, dropping his police garb and wading into the fray.

And there was a light in the dark: a somewhat happy ending for Gwen and Rhys and their baby. I can see Gwen eventually trying to carry on with Torchwood, because that's the sort of person she is: she needs to try to make things better.

This miniseries was the best Torchwood they've ever done. Clearly, the longer story format works for this show. Realistic sci-fi also works. Maybe Torchwood has been too chained to its parent show in the past, and the answer was to set it free and go for broke.

I want more Torchwood, and I'm sure I'm not alone. John Barrowman, Eve Myles, and Russell T. Davies have all expressed their willingness to come back and do it again. If the excellence of this abbreviated season three wasn't enough to give us a season four, frankly, nothing could. If this is it, though, they went out on an exceptionally creative high note.

Bits and pieces:

-- The existence of the Doctor has been an unanswered question, and Gwen addressed it in the opening scene. I love Doctor Who, but if we get a season four of Torchwood, I think there shouldn't be crossovers. This miniseries proved that Torchwood is better when it's harder sci-fi, and when it's on its own.

-- And hey, there are several characters who could return as possible new members of Torchwood: Lois Habiba, Andy, even Johnson and Dekker. And Rhys, although he'd make a great house husband, too. :)

-- I was right. Clem was the answer.

-- Gold acting stars again for everyone. John Barrowman, Eve Myles, and Peter Capaldi in particular.

-- This whole story was so dark that for a moment, I actually wondered if the 456 would win. That's good writing, folks.

Quotes:

The 456: "The hit. They create chemicals. The chemicals are good."
Colonel: "You're shooting up on children? Our children?"

Andy: "Who's the father?"
Rhys: "I'm slapping you, yeah."

Jack: "You said yourself, the world is going to Hell any second. Before it does, give us a moment of grace. Just take Gwen home, please. I can't look at her any more."

Gwen: "Sometimes the Doctor must look at this planet and turn away in shame."

Jack: "Steven and Ianto and Owen and Tosh and Suzie. All of them, because of me."

Exceptional. Five out of four stars,

Billie

All of my Torchwood reviews will be archived here.
(Season three, episode 5)

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Torchwood: Children of Earth, Day 4

Riley: "If we can't identify the lowest-achieving ten percent of this country's children, then what are the school league tables for?"

Holy wow.

I almost can't express how shocked and disturbed I was by that discussion around the conference table. All of those important people condemning other people's children to a living death. Poor kids, orphaned and displaced kids, kids in the worst schools, kids on welfare. A life and death decision based on socio-economic status. It was like watching people turning into Nazis right in front of my eyes.

What made it so effective was that I absolutely believed it. I could hear politicians making those decisions, for real. I know I'd rather die than give up my child to an eternal life of horror, and I kept waiting for one person -- just one -- to have the courage and moral certainty to say no. No, we will not sacrifice millions of children for any reason, even if it means the death of our race. But no one did.

At least until Lois spoke up for Torchwood. Lois was simply wonderful. Terrified, hesitant at first, knowing she could be executed for treason, but in the end, she had this little smile. How cool, to have the governments of the world under your thumb, and to know you're doing the right thing.

And it was the right thing, even with the deaths of all those people in the MI-5 building. A dozen children in exchange for twenty-five million people. Thirty-five million children for 6.7 billion people. They can't negotiate with these creatures. They can't appease them with ten percent of the world's children. The 456 will come back in another few years and want ten percent more. The only answer is not to play. The only answer is just what Jack and Ianto did: fight back.

Ianto's death upset me as much as what happened in that conference room. I could feel it coming in the previous episode so I wasn't shocked, but I was surprised at how much it hurt. I wasn't much into Jack and Ianto as a couple when it started happening, but I slowly got into it. And now it's over.

Of the five members of Torchwood at the beginning of the series, only two remain. The scene at the end with Jack holding Gwen as they cried over Ianto's body was just heartbreaking. Yes, Torchwood is a dangerous place to work, but this was almost too much.

Bits and pieces:

-- Jack the immortal condemned eleven children to an immortal slavery. Consider the irony. But we still don't know what the 456 were actually doing to the children. It seems to be some sort of symbiotic slavery.

-- I realized this time that the actor playing Clem was playing him as a little boy. Poor Clem. I guess he wasn't the answer after all, was he? Although why did the 456 go out of their way to kill Clem if he wasn't important, somehow?

-- I did get something of an answer to my toddlers and teenagers question: the 456 are only interested in prepubescents.

-- By the end of it, Johnson had started acting like a human being.

-- The heaviness and intensity of this episode reminded me a bit of Battlestar Galactica at its best. It was that good.

-- Gold acting stars for everyone, especially John Barrowman and Peter Capaldi (Frobisher). And the woman who played Riley, the brown-haired woman in the conference room who said all the hard stuff. She was just chilling.

-- Jack died twice in this episode.

Quotes:

Woman (Ellen Hunt?): "Maybe the gods were kind. Maybe they are in paradise."
Jack: "No such thing."

Alice: "If you've angered him, then God help you."
Johnson: "This from the woman who spent her life running away from him."
Alice: "And why do you think I did that? A man who can't die has got nothing to fear."
But he does fear something. The deaths of people he loves. He was ready to take it back to save Ianto.

Clem: "What's happening?"
Gwen: "It's Lois. She's crying."

The 456: "We do not harm the children. They feel no pain. They live long beyond their years."
Gwen: "Well, that's okay, then."

Ianto: "I've only just scraped the surface, haven't I?"
Jack: "Ianto, that's all there is."
Ianto: "No. You pretend that's all there is."

Prime Minister Green: "Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick. What are you suggesting, a cull of ten percent would do us good?"

Yates: "We could do it alphabetically."
Riley: "Oh, yes. Thanks, Mr. *Yates*."

Ianto: "Don't forget me."
Jack: "Never could."
Ianto: "A thousand years time, you won't remember me."
Jack: "Yes, I will. I promise I will."

I have never been as into Torchwood as I am at this moment. I haven't got a clue as to how they're going to get out of this situation. And that's darned good television,

Billie

All of my Torchwood reviews will be archived here.
(Season three, episode 4)

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Torchwood: Children of Earth, Day 3

Gwen: "What do we do? Just sit here?"
Jack: "Worse than that, do I have to stay in these clothes?"

I'm enjoying this miniseries so much.

The four of them (and eventually Clem) camping out in the center of that huge, empty warehouse was quite fun. No furniture, no equipment, no showers. (One hopes there's a bathroom.) I thought this was a great idea, literally stripping our characters down to their wits. And I loved their version of scrounging for office supplies, or "midnight requisitioning," as we used to call it. Laptops. Credit cards. Jack stole a sports car, which was just like him; he couldn't just steal an inconspicuous car, could he? Ianto went to army surplus to get Jack another long grey coat. That was so sweet. Did he get him suspenders, too?

And I liked that Ianto, emboldened by their official "couple" status, asked Jack some heavy-duty questions about life and death. (Mostly death.) Too bad they didn't have time for a quickie, because all I could think of was that whenever a couple was happy together on Buffy, one of them would die. And, come to think of it, since Jack can't die... no. We've already lost Tosh and Owen. They wouldn't do that to us. Would they? Is this their way of "changing companions?" Killing the old ones off?

Even the scenes with Torchwood listening in on Frobisher and the alien were great, because it wasn't simple. Contact lenses, lip reading, shorthand. Not being able to see the alien made it scarier, too, because what we make up in our own minds is always worse. The intermittent sliming was a nice touch, although I couldn't help but notice that the glass sometimes looked clean when the slime hit. Did the 456 have a bottle of Windex and some paper towels in there with them?

Jack and the other three (now dead) people on the kill list gave the 456 a dozen children back in 1965. Jack wouldn't sacrifice a dozen orphans for no good reason. Was the alternative even more unthinkable? Did the British government order him to do it? That would explain why Frobisher wanted the 456 to keep quiet about it.

Why do these nasty, slimy aliens want millions of children that can't even breathe their air? Adoption? Slavery? Hostages? Tasty snacks?

Bits and pieces:

-- Rhys has taken over as coffee boy.

-- Andy got to help out. Definitely better than leading assassins to Gwen's apartment.

-- Gwen took the alien contact lenses home so she and Rhys could have fun with them. Maybe I'm naive, but what sort of fun?

-- Alice isn't Jack's daughter for nothing; she almost got away. I am assuming that Alice and Steven are not immortal. It wouldn't make sense.

-- Alice's parents, Jack Harkness and Lucia Moretti, were Torchwood employees with the names James and Mary Sangster.

-- Ianto's in-laws started an impromptu day care center.

-- Nasty American general. Why are Americans on British television always portrayed as buttheads? We're not all buttheads. Honestly.

Quotes:

Gwen: "Criminals. Thieves. Us."

Jack: "I'm a fixed point in time and space. That's what the Doctor says. I think that means it's forever."
Ianto: "So one day you'll see me die of old age, and just keep going."
Jack: "Yeah."
Ianto: "We'd better make the most of it, then."

Jack: "Ianto, the world could be ending."
Ianto: "The world's always ending."

Green: "Look, John Frobisher is a good man. And better than that, he's expendable." The Prime Minister is even slimier than the 456. I miss Harriet Jones.

Clem: "Who's the queer?"
Ianto: "Oi! It's not 1965 any more."
Clem knew Gwen and Rhys were married, too. What will he make of Jack once he calms down?

The 456: "We want your children. We will take your children."

Excellent. They're three for three,

Billie

All of my Torchwood reviews will be archived here.
(Season three, episode 3)

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Torchwood: Children of Earth, Day 2

Lois: "I didn't sign the official secrets act to cover up murder. And I didn't take the job to commit treason on my second day."

What a fabulous kick butt rescue-Jack-at-all-costs episode.

Poor Jack. Not dying, ever, under any circumstances, is an unsettling concept. Torchwood already did some good stuff on that theme in season two, first with undead Owen, and later with Jack and his very long dirt nap. But what happened here took it even further. Blown to bits, and those were actual bits. Reconstructing in absolute agony. Drowning in cement. Horrible.

Jack isn't like, say, the immortals in Highlander. He doesn't just live a long time and regenerate. It's more like he's permanently stuck physically in that moment when he was resurrected by Rose, if I understand it correctly. For the immortals on Highlander, decapitation is the end. Not for Jack. For Jack, there is no end. Horrible.

Gwen, Rhys, and Ianto were at their absolute best. The opening sequences with Gwen and the ambulance were action heroine goodness all over the place. Gwen and Rhys on the run together were fun and surprisingly sweet, especially when she told him her news. And Rhys again proved that he's good at this stuff. He's even comfortable letting Gwen take command. What a gent.

Lois Habiba was a big stroke of good luck. They did enough set-up that what she did, telling Gwen and Rhys the truth, made sense. Lois needs to make an ungodly amount of money working for Torchwood. But it just feels like she's been set up as this great character we could like, so that we'll feel bad when they kill her off. I hope I'm wrong.

Ianto the former coffee boy put them all in the shade. When the bad guys were pouring cement into that room, I could see from Ianto's face that he knew exactly what was happening and was trying to keep from falling apart. And his forklift wall-crashing rescue was great fun. It's not easy to get away from the bad guys while carrying a huge block of cement. And he managed to rescue Gwen and Rhys at the same time.

The 456 stuff was pretty much secondary to Jack's rescue. The instructions for building the chamber reminded me of Contact, only creepy. How harmful can the 456 be if they must be confined to a sealed container, though?

Bits and pieces:

-- When the bomb went off, all I could think of was Big Ben getting destroyed on Doctor Who. Landmarks have a rough time of it in this 'verse.

-- Ianto's sister and brother-in-law had some great moments, too, with the screaming about a police state, and the way he covered her getaway. We got a major clue that Ianto was either abused or neglected when he was a child. He's got a great sister, though.

-- Clem got to do the "They're coming" scene right out of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. (The soldier that flirted with Gwen called Rhys a body snatcher, too.) I'm thinking Clem is important. I bet he's going to have the answer to defeating the 456 without knowing it.

-- Andy was back. And unfortunately, he may have gotten himself in serious trouble while trying to defend Gwen's good name. I rather wish he'd lied to what's'her face, Auntie Terrorist.

-- I still haven't gotten an answer to my question about toddlers and teenagers.

-- Alice was very worried about Jack. She does care. Well, he's her father.

-- Jack died in this episode. Did he ever. I'm sort of keeping track.

-- The BBC America version of this episode was slightly censored. There was a dust cloud covering Jack's posterior. And one of the lines Paul recorded in his "Day One" review (which I have now read) wasn't in the "Day One" episode that aired here, either. I checked. Guess that makes my decision to get the DVD a lot easier.

Quotes:

Frobisher's daughters: (in a monotone) "We want a pony. We want a pony. We want a pony."

Prime Minister: "All I've done is put you on the front line. That's what the front line's for, John. First to fall." Poor Frobisher. You can just tell he's completely screwed, no matter what he does.

Rhys: "How are you, love?"
Gwen: "My best friend's belly had a bomb go off in it last night. Someone's been trying to kill us ever since. I'm traveling at seventy miles per hour on top of a bed of potatoes, and I think I'm going to be sick."

Rhys: "Hang on. The bomb, the guns, the car chase, the hiding from the law... God, what am I like, letting you do all that in your condition?"
Gwen: "Well, you carried my bag."

The 456: "We are coming. Tomorrow."

This was a fast-moving, exciting episode full of wonderful (and super creepy) moments. Like "Day One," it just flew by and was over too quickly,

Billie

All of my Torchwood reviews will be archived here.
(Season three, episode 2)

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Torchwood: Children of Earth, Day 1

[Repetition alert! Paul Kelly reviewed Children of Earth a couple of weeks ago when it aired on British television. I'm doing it, too, because I plan to review all of Torchwood. I have not yet read Paul's reviews because (1) I avoid spoilers, and (2) I never read other people's reviews before writing my own. It'll be interesting to see if we hit the same points.]

Jack: "Actually, I found a grey hair."
Alice: "Well, that *is* the end of the world."

Outstanding. And this was only part one. (Let's hope it's not downhill from here.)

This first episode about (I assume) an alien invasion was actually all about being human.

Gwen and Rhys were shopping for a house and talking kids. I'm very fond of Gwen as a character, and I loved the way Gwen and Jack talked about her baby. Even though Jack is "officially" with Ianto now, Jack's love for Gwen was still very much evident. It wasn't three's a crowd, though, because it felt so comfortable; even though she's always been attracted to Jack, Gwen obviously chose not to feel threatened or left out. Good for her.

Ianto's confusion about his feelings for Jack and their status as a couple (as he revealed in that conversation with his sister) was just incredibly dear. I liked what he said about it not being men -- that it was Jack. I believed it. Sometimes a person is just so overwhelmingly attractive to you that their gender doesn't matter, and Jack is not what you'd call an average guy. (I'm remembering my first reaction to Lucy Lawless as Xena. :)

Jack's previously unknown family made a lot of sense, too. Of course he'd have had a family or two at some point. But experimenting on his own grandson? Jack, you're better than that. Ianto went for his niece, too. Career men. Really. Or maybe it's just that they've been in Torchwood too long.

The world has changed since the Christmas Invasion, and the advent of aliens. Some people are responding by losing their religious faith, suddenly feeling insignificant in the universe. The suicide rate has doubled. I liked that they addressed this. I liked it a lot. And yet, in keeping with this episode about being human, we didn't see an alien in this episode. No monsters, no spaceships, not even the pathetic weevils. And it was still scary. Children going freaky has been done to death in sci-fi, but they did it very well.

The tension was building through the roof at the end; you could tell something horrible was about to happen, and it certainly did. (Through the roof, literally.) Jack couldn't have known if he would survive getting blown to bits, and leaving the Hub wasn't an option. He didn't hesitate to sacrifice himself for Gwen and Ianto. The way he kissed Ianto goodbye so passionately and pushed him onto the lift was oh, so romantic.

So I am assuming Jack will survive and reassemble, since I don't think they'd kill their lead in the first episode of a miniseries. Plus, we know that the Face of Boe exists well into the future. Although time travel does change everything... wait a minute.

Bits and pieces:

-- The first thing Gwen did when she entered the Hub was touch a photo of Tosh and Owen. That was sweet. That photo is gone now. I suppose the Hub is gone, too.

-- Rupesh was acting like Gwen did when she was recruited, and he was such a good fit for Torchwood; I completely fell for it. He got his, didn't he?

-- "Timothy White" aka Clement MacDonald, an adult who was nearly taken as a child, channeled the 456 along with all of the world's children. How old were the kids? Were teenagers doing it? Toddlers? What about babies? Clem had an extremely enhanced sense of smell. I actually got a chill when Clem told Gwen she was pregnant. What will happen to Gwen's baby?

-- Loved Gwen's sonic almost screwdriver. Deliberate Doctor Who joke.

-- Was Lois Habiba just a sharp, nosy new employee at the Home Office, or was she more than that? Or will she turn out to *be* more than that?

-- Martha Jones is on her honeymoon, so no Martha this time. What about Andy? And Rhys, for that matter? Rhys should be working for Torchwood. He came up with an important theory just while chatting on the phone with Gwen.

-- Interesting little symbolic parallel, that Gwen's baby and Jack's bomb were in essentially the same place on the alien diagnostic photocopy machine.

-- The "blank page" order to kill was supposed to cover up something from England's past. Its list of targets included Jack, Colonel Michael Sanders, Ellen Hunt, and Captain Andrew Staines.

-- Jack died several times in this episode, and that was before he blew up.

-- Torchwood apparently pays very, very well. I wonder if they have an opening for a librarian? I'd relocate.

Quotes:

Ianto: "He died a happy man, and I've got Tupperware."
Jack: "And we're considerate. We don't leave any mess."

Rupesh: "What's in there?"
Gwen: "Big science fiction super base. Honestly. See ya."

Jack: "See you later."
Ianto: "Where are you going?"
Jack: "Now who's a couple?"

Ianto: "It's weird. It's just different. It's not men... it's just him. It's only him."

Jack: (to Gwen, about the baby) "You told me before you told him. He is going to love that."

Jack: "I'll come back. I always do."

The 456: "We are coming. Back."

This hour just flew by. Torchwood, how I've missed you. And how lovely that I don't have to wait long for part two,

Billie

All of my Torchwood reviews will be archived here.
(Season three, episode 1)

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True Blood: Never Let Me Go

Bill: "I can't lose you."
Sookie: "You never will."

The plot thickens. Suddenly we have makers all over the place.

I had already guessed (from Eric's concern) that Godric was Eric's maker. Eric showed strong emotion for the first time in this episode. What sort of relationship do they have? The Bill/Jessica and Eric/Pam relationships are evidence that a maker/ward relationship isn't always romantic, but the Lorena/Bill relationship felt like it was. And if Eric is so freaked out about Godric, how will Bill react to Lorena showing up?

I don't know what to make of Jason's so-called aptitude for leadership or his Officer and a Gentleman moment with Luke. They seem to be building towards a huge battle of sorts between the vampires and the Fellowship Soldiers of God, with Sookie and her brother as important combatants on opposite sides. The Fellowship soldiers are like little boys playing with real guns. The Texas vampires don't seem to be much better. I liked Isabel, but Stan is an idiot.

Sookie is planning to go undercover at the Fellowship, which just seems like an invitation to disaster. Well, hello, my brother Jason, fancy meeting you here.

Steve and Sarah Newlin aren't as happy together as they seem if she's angry with him, and going after Jason with a bath mitt. I thought Sarah was pretty gung ho about the soldiers of God stuff. Maybe she just can't stand being left out. That whole thing about washing Jesus' feet and being God's reward for Jason was just strange.

Daphne's a deer. A female deer. :) I don't know why I thought that shifters could sense each other, but apparently, they can't. It was rather nice to see Sam with someone like himself, but Daphne's scratch scars haven't been explained, and it just seems obvious that she must be Maryann's creature, so to speak. I suppose Daphne could be on the up and up and just got scarred some other way, but what are the odds?

No orgy this week, thankfully. (Too many orgy scenes lately; they've actually become tiresome.) But Maryann and her entourage, after sowing serious discord at Merlottes, have moved into the Stackhouse house with Tara. I thought at first that the scene with Maryann at the kitchen table dressed like Sookie's Gran was a dream sequence, because it was just too bizarre. I have stopped even trying to figure out what Maryann is after.

I'm willing to bet Sookie won't be thrilled about her new roommates. But at least she won't have to shop for tropical fruit any more.

Bits and pieces:

-- Flashback to a thousand years ago. Eric was mortally wounded on the battlefield and was actually lying in his future funeral pyre when Godric showed up.

-- Terry and Arlene at the orgy were funny. Terry's eyes made me laugh out loud.

-- Bill and Sookie finally got to sleep in a bed together. That was sweet.

-- Sookie freaked Barry out so much that he actually quit his job.

-- Loved the GI Joe soldiers of God tee shirts. They were so far out of the realm of anything resembling taste.

-- Lafayette went back to work, and kept his word to Eric; he didn't tell Sam what happened to him. It was nice seeing Lafayette looking good again.

-- Poor Hoyt. He seriously, seriously needs to leave home.

-- Shifters run hot, which I guess makes them the opposite of vampires, who run cold. Sam doesn't know other shifters. He's only met a couple of werewolves. Does Daphne need a deer to use as a guide, like Sam needs a dog? I didn't see one. Another deer, that is.

-- Godric was indeed a character in the second book, a couple of thousand years old, a permanent teenager, and had Roman tatts on his body. But he wasn't Eric's maker. This change sort of makes sense, though, plot-wise.

-- Maryann was reading a book entitled "Heart sick." If she was the one who removed Miss Jeanette's heart, then that's one nasty pun.

Quotes:

Sookie: "He didn't hear. He's glamoured. Can't you tell? His mind's full of fog and disco music."

Jessica: "All I did was order him off the menu. You didn't say not to order off the menu."
Bill: "I would no more allow you to feed on that young man than to watch pornography on television."
Jessica: "Porno? Hey, Sookie, there's dirty movies on television."
Sookie: (looking innocent) "Oh. Yuk."

Bill: "To your room, please. True Blood."
Jessica: "You're gonna be so sorry when I get an eating disorder."

Stan: "We need to take these fanatics down. Full out attack. Exterminate them like the vermin they are. Leave no trace."
Isabel: "Hmm. Vampire-hating church annihilated. Wonder who did it? Fucking brilliant."

Stan: "I have a plan."
Isabel: "It's not a plan. It's a movie."
Stan: "It's not a movie. It's a war."
Eric: "Idiots."

Newlin: "Decapitation might work. So we have a guillotine on order, just in case."

Sam: "Are you going to say it, or should I?"
Daphne: "Say what?"
Sam: "Nice rack."
Daphne: "Nice balls."
Pool table love scene. That was actually a triple entendre.

Another terrific episode. Three out of four stars,

Billie

All of my True Blood reviews are archived here.
(Season 2, episode 5)

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