So we have the final episode of Series 6 (Christmas Special notwithstanding), and it's craptastic. The Doctor pulled a switcheroo on everybody, and the oldest question in the universe is the name of the television show? Seriously?
The Doctor has a date with death at Lake Silencio, but before he goes he takes a few detours. One of those is a trip to the room where the Headless Monks -- who were featured in "A Good Man Goes to War" -- keep the heads of their members, to pick up the head of Dorium Maldovar. The blue-skinned bodiless head tells him the oldest question in the universe, prophesying that "the 11th will fall when the question is asked and answered." Stuff happens. River rises from the lake, encased in the astronaught suit against her will, and defiantly depletes her weapons pack, creating a dying timeline in which all of history happens at once. More stuff happens. The Doctor gets River to let things play out as they should, and everything turns out okay -- the Doctor having tricked almost everyone by hiding inside the shape-shifting robot piloted by miniature people, which is what Rory, Amy, and River actually saw being shot.
You know, there are times when I really, REALLY can't stand cheap writing, and this is one of them. After splitting Series 6 in two this year to help reduce production costs, you'd think Steven Moffat would have come up with something more dramatic, better written, and more epic. But this episode felt more like an afterthought tacked onto the end of a really mediocre season. And this alleged "slipping back into the shadows" thing, ostensibly to be less visible than he has been for more than two centuries, probably isn't going to last into Series 7, which may not even take place next year but in 2013, when the show reaches its fiftieth anniversary.
BBC, please please PLEASE replace Moffat with someone who knows how to write consistently well. That is all.
Showing posts with label Rory Williams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rory Williams. Show all posts
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Review: Closing Time
Tonight is the final regular episode of Series 6, so I thought I'd do a quick review of "Closing Time" before heading out to work on a student film project.
The Doctor is on a trip to visit old friends one last time before meeting his end in Utah, and his last stop involves dropping in on Craig, whom we last saw in "The Lodger" (Series 5). He and Sophie now have added an infant son to their relationship, but the little tyke is more than either of them can handle. Sophie is sent off on a much-needed holiday out of the house, setting up the events to come. The Doctor and Craig save the world from Cybermen, and Craig gets a helping hand with his son, Stormaggedon, Dark Lord of All — okay, his name's actually Alfie, but he's a cute baby and he has his Stewie factor going on, so we'll forgive him his silly choice in self-naming.
What I liked about this episode was pretty much everything, including the running gag of a co-worker of the Doctor's at the local department store in which he's taken a temporary job misconstruing the relationship between Craig and the Time Lord. The redesign of the Cybermats was pretty cool.
The only part I didn't like was the unexplained presence of the Cybus Cybermen. How is it that they managed to crash a ship into Earth, in England, centuries before? Time storm? Maybe. Crack in the universe from Series 5? Probably, knowing Moffat. I just didn't care for it. I would like to see the Mondasian Cybermen meet the Cybus versions. It might make for a really interesting clash of classic and new series.
Anyway, that's it for this review. I'll write one up of "The Wedding of River Song" tomorrow after I've watched it.
The Doctor is on a trip to visit old friends one last time before meeting his end in Utah, and his last stop involves dropping in on Craig, whom we last saw in "The Lodger" (Series 5). He and Sophie now have added an infant son to their relationship, but the little tyke is more than either of them can handle. Sophie is sent off on a much-needed holiday out of the house, setting up the events to come. The Doctor and Craig save the world from Cybermen, and Craig gets a helping hand with his son, Stormaggedon, Dark Lord of All — okay, his name's actually Alfie, but he's a cute baby and he has his Stewie factor going on, so we'll forgive him his silly choice in self-naming.
What I liked about this episode was pretty much everything, including the running gag of a co-worker of the Doctor's at the local department store in which he's taken a temporary job misconstruing the relationship between Craig and the Time Lord. The redesign of the Cybermats was pretty cool.
The only part I didn't like was the unexplained presence of the Cybus Cybermen. How is it that they managed to crash a ship into Earth, in England, centuries before? Time storm? Maybe. Crack in the universe from Series 5? Probably, knowing Moffat. I just didn't care for it. I would like to see the Mondasian Cybermen meet the Cybus versions. It might make for a really interesting clash of classic and new series.
Anyway, that's it for this review. I'll write one up of "The Wedding of River Song" tomorrow after I've watched it.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Review: The God Complex
Only, what, two more 'regular' episodes left to go for Series 6? Where DOES the time fly? Oh yeah, in an alien-built hotel made to look like one from 1980s Earth, which is the setting for "The God Complex". It's basically a retelling of the Minotaur story from Greek mythology, and Toby Whitehouse's script makes it an enjoyable one indeed.
I won't give too much away from the episode, for the sake of people who haven't yet been able to see it. Suffice to say that it's a great stand-alone episode and a real heartbreaker at the end. The character of the Minotaur, actually an alien in the story from a race of beings who literally feed on the mental energy generated by a person's faith, could have been portrayed as an irredeemable monster. But just as in the Series 5 episode "Vincent and the Doctor", he's really just a victim himself, and proves worthy of sympathy.
It is here I will give away the most spoilers, because I really want to focus on the Minotaur. Imagine a race of beings who feed off of certain types of mental energy, who roam from world to world setting themselves up as gods to be worshiped, feeding on the faith of their followers. On a planet with thousands, perhaps even millions of followers, it is easy to feed without necessarily killing, except for the odd sacrifice every now and then. One imagines this is what the Nimons were perfectly content with. Somehow, however, one of their relatives got himself imprisoned in a labyrinthine prison with no escape, and a steady stream of faithful people from all over the universe brought in to keep it alive. With so few to feed from, the Minotaur is forced by his survival instinct to take all of the energy from its victims, killing them in the process, something it may very well never have wanted. But it can't help itself, and eventually, after many thousands of years, it is at the point where it no longer even remembers its own name. It simply is, and it cannot help but run on pure instinct, full of sorrow at what it must do to survive but unable to end its suffering on its own. Sooner or later a hero comes and kills him, ending the barbaric ritual of sacrifice to the half-god bull.
Clearly, the writer intended this to be the basis for the Greek myth, or a continuation of it, or some combination of the two concepts. Whitehouse could have done a lot worse with his handling of the Minotaur myth, but he pulled it off splendidly.
Okay, I was wrong. I gave away a lot more than I intended. If I'm able after this weekend, I'll write my review of "Closing Time".
I won't give too much away from the episode, for the sake of people who haven't yet been able to see it. Suffice to say that it's a great stand-alone episode and a real heartbreaker at the end. The character of the Minotaur, actually an alien in the story from a race of beings who literally feed on the mental energy generated by a person's faith, could have been portrayed as an irredeemable monster. But just as in the Series 5 episode "Vincent and the Doctor", he's really just a victim himself, and proves worthy of sympathy.
It is here I will give away the most spoilers, because I really want to focus on the Minotaur. Imagine a race of beings who feed off of certain types of mental energy, who roam from world to world setting themselves up as gods to be worshiped, feeding on the faith of their followers. On a planet with thousands, perhaps even millions of followers, it is easy to feed without necessarily killing, except for the odd sacrifice every now and then. One imagines this is what the Nimons were perfectly content with. Somehow, however, one of their relatives got himself imprisoned in a labyrinthine prison with no escape, and a steady stream of faithful people from all over the universe brought in to keep it alive. With so few to feed from, the Minotaur is forced by his survival instinct to take all of the energy from its victims, killing them in the process, something it may very well never have wanted. But it can't help itself, and eventually, after many thousands of years, it is at the point where it no longer even remembers its own name. It simply is, and it cannot help but run on pure instinct, full of sorrow at what it must do to survive but unable to end its suffering on its own. Sooner or later a hero comes and kills him, ending the barbaric ritual of sacrifice to the half-god bull.
Clearly, the writer intended this to be the basis for the Greek myth, or a continuation of it, or some combination of the two concepts. Whitehouse could have done a lot worse with his handling of the Minotaur myth, but he pulled it off splendidly.
Okay, I was wrong. I gave away a lot more than I intended. If I'm able after this weekend, I'll write my review of "Closing Time".
Monday, September 12, 2011
Review with Link: The Girl Who Waited
Somebody already wrote up a fairly decent review of "The Girl Who Waited", so I'm just going to link to it here and let you judge it for yourself. What I write below is merely to add to what has already been written.
To begin with, I've never really understood the animosity some fans feel toward the character of Amy Pond or of the actress behind her, Karen Gillan. Billie Piper's Rose Tyler was too weepy, and Freema Agyeman's Martha Jones spent most of her time making moon eyes at the Doctor while getting all silently angsty over his inability to notice her feelings for him. It wasn't until Catherine Tate's turn as Donna Noble that I began to like the Doctor's companions again, since the dynamic of the on-screen relationship was such that I could really see some fleshing out of both characters without the annoying unrequited love thing taking over.
With the character of Amy Pond, I began to fear that the series was returning to the lovesick puppy routine, but that gimmick was quickly ended when Arthur Darvill's Rory Williams became a central figure in the show and the true focus of Amy's romantic love. If Moffat's tenure as head writer can be credited with anything good, it's the strong supporting cast for Series' 5 and 6. It is this context that I watched and liked "The Girl Who Waited", though it's not nearly as good an episode as it should have been.
I didn't like the throw-away explanation of why a person can spend literally years alone without food and water in an isolated environment while dodging badly programmed security robots. Timey wimey, wibbly wobbly stuff aside, it's insulting. I'd have preferred a better explanation of survival, maybe showing a fruit orchard that the older Amy has been raiding or something. I also didn't like that she initially rejected Rory upon reuniting with him, rather than be overjoyed. Rory literally waited centuries for her in a collapsing universe as a plastic recreation of himself who was continuously awake, retaining his sanity and love for Amy throughout all that time. She couldn't return the favor for thirty-six years, especially given what she's gone through with him and the strengthening of their bond since "The Eleventh Hour"? Come on, the writers can do better than that.
Still, for those faults, I did enjoy the dramatic dynamic of this episode. The final, heart-wrenching scene was reminiscent of Russell T. Davies' superb ability to tear out our hearts, stomp them into greasy spots on the ground, pick them up and reconstitute them, put them back in our chests, and start the whole process over again for the next episode. But then there was the logical question that sprang to mind: why is Rory so broken up when he has managed to rescue the Amy he knows and loves? And that killed the moment for me as a punch to the gut. (Now don't go complaining about a spoiler — if you don't know by now that the Companions, with rare exception, get a Hero's Death Battle Exemption every episode, you really should pay more attention.)
I give "The Girl Who Waited" a C-, which is a pretty generous grade in my humble opinion. It's saved by the talents of Darvill and an ever-improving Gillan, but excellent acting can only go so far with a story this weak.
To begin with, I've never really understood the animosity some fans feel toward the character of Amy Pond or of the actress behind her, Karen Gillan. Billie Piper's Rose Tyler was too weepy, and Freema Agyeman's Martha Jones spent most of her time making moon eyes at the Doctor while getting all silently angsty over his inability to notice her feelings for him. It wasn't until Catherine Tate's turn as Donna Noble that I began to like the Doctor's companions again, since the dynamic of the on-screen relationship was such that I could really see some fleshing out of both characters without the annoying unrequited love thing taking over.
With the character of Amy Pond, I began to fear that the series was returning to the lovesick puppy routine, but that gimmick was quickly ended when Arthur Darvill's Rory Williams became a central figure in the show and the true focus of Amy's romantic love. If Moffat's tenure as head writer can be credited with anything good, it's the strong supporting cast for Series' 5 and 6. It is this context that I watched and liked "The Girl Who Waited", though it's not nearly as good an episode as it should have been.
I didn't like the throw-away explanation of why a person can spend literally years alone without food and water in an isolated environment while dodging badly programmed security robots. Timey wimey, wibbly wobbly stuff aside, it's insulting. I'd have preferred a better explanation of survival, maybe showing a fruit orchard that the older Amy has been raiding or something. I also didn't like that she initially rejected Rory upon reuniting with him, rather than be overjoyed. Rory literally waited centuries for her in a collapsing universe as a plastic recreation of himself who was continuously awake, retaining his sanity and love for Amy throughout all that time. She couldn't return the favor for thirty-six years, especially given what she's gone through with him and the strengthening of their bond since "The Eleventh Hour"? Come on, the writers can do better than that.
Still, for those faults, I did enjoy the dramatic dynamic of this episode. The final, heart-wrenching scene was reminiscent of Russell T. Davies' superb ability to tear out our hearts, stomp them into greasy spots on the ground, pick them up and reconstitute them, put them back in our chests, and start the whole process over again for the next episode. But then there was the logical question that sprang to mind: why is Rory so broken up when he has managed to rescue the Amy he knows and loves? And that killed the moment for me as a punch to the gut. (Now don't go complaining about a spoiler — if you don't know by now that the Companions, with rare exception, get a Hero's Death Battle Exemption every episode, you really should pay more attention.)
I give "The Girl Who Waited" a C-, which is a pretty generous grade in my humble opinion. It's saved by the talents of Darvill and an ever-improving Gillan, but excellent acting can only go so far with a story this weak.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Let's Kill Suspension of Disbelief!
Needless to say, I'm less than impressed with the semi-premiere episode of Doctor Who, "Let's Kill Hitler", that kicked off the second half of Series 6. It's like Steven Moffat decided to give a huge middle finger to fans out of pure spite. Not content with writing the insulting storyline of making River Song the child of companions Amy and Rory in "A Good Man Goes to War", the current head writer seems hellbent on doing even more to confuse and annoy fans with this episode, which was almost completely incomprehensible.
From the opening scenes showing some sort of human-sized, shape-changing android piloted by a miniaturized crew taking the place of an S.S. officer in an attempt to assassinate Adolf Hitler, to the climax of the episode showing the beginnings of River Song, "Let's Kill Hitler" never fails to fail to deliver. Are we to believe that 1.) A human-Time Lady hybrid who has, as stated in this episode, regenerated into a toddler, somehow makes it from 1969 New York to 1990s Leadworth in England, 2.) inserts herself into her future parents' timeline in order to get an opportunity to meet and kill the Doctor, 3.) oh-so-conveniently regenerates into her River Song incarnation when a stray bullet from Hitler forces her to change, and 4.), after poisoning the Doctor with one of her lipsticks, suddenly is inspired by her parents' devotion to him to save his life by offering up all her remaining regenerations, and by episode's end be inspired to go looking for him again?
Okay, yes, I just gave away the entire episode. Trust me, you're really not worse off for it. This episode was so silly in its premise as to be unworthy of even bothering with. For one thing, how can you have an episode called "Let's Kill Hitler" and then lock him in a closet and forget about him roughly ten minutes or so in — for the rest of the episode? A better title might have been, "The Start of the River" or something like that, because that's really the whole plot of this sorry excuse for a story.
And naturally, there's the throw-away characters in the form of a group devoted to protecting the Doctor from River Song before she can kill him, or avenge him afterward, while also killing history's most evil figures at the end of their timelines. Who are these people and where did they come from? How do they fit in with the effort by the Silence to kill the Doctor and bring about the end of all things? And really, is the explanation of the Silence as a religious movement using the bulbous-headed, mouthless aliens from episodes one and two as players in their game, worthy of Doctor Who as a series? Not even close.
Moffat's increasingly been rubbing me the wrong way ever since the premiere of Series 5 last year. He can't be replaced soon enough, in my opinion. I can only hope that his eventual replacement will go out of his or her way to clean up the storytelling mess he's made of things. It's natural to ask audiences to suspend disbelief when consuming fiction. But to ask us to toss it out the window and forget what was established just one episode ago, or earlier in a season, is just asking too much.
From the opening scenes showing some sort of human-sized, shape-changing android piloted by a miniaturized crew taking the place of an S.S. officer in an attempt to assassinate Adolf Hitler, to the climax of the episode showing the beginnings of River Song, "Let's Kill Hitler" never fails to fail to deliver. Are we to believe that 1.) A human-Time Lady hybrid who has, as stated in this episode, regenerated into a toddler, somehow makes it from 1969 New York to 1990s Leadworth in England, 2.) inserts herself into her future parents' timeline in order to get an opportunity to meet and kill the Doctor, 3.) oh-so-conveniently regenerates into her River Song incarnation when a stray bullet from Hitler forces her to change, and 4.), after poisoning the Doctor with one of her lipsticks, suddenly is inspired by her parents' devotion to him to save his life by offering up all her remaining regenerations, and by episode's end be inspired to go looking for him again?
Okay, yes, I just gave away the entire episode. Trust me, you're really not worse off for it. This episode was so silly in its premise as to be unworthy of even bothering with. For one thing, how can you have an episode called "Let's Kill Hitler" and then lock him in a closet and forget about him roughly ten minutes or so in — for the rest of the episode? A better title might have been, "The Start of the River" or something like that, because that's really the whole plot of this sorry excuse for a story.
And naturally, there's the throw-away characters in the form of a group devoted to protecting the Doctor from River Song before she can kill him, or avenge him afterward, while also killing history's most evil figures at the end of their timelines. Who are these people and where did they come from? How do they fit in with the effort by the Silence to kill the Doctor and bring about the end of all things? And really, is the explanation of the Silence as a religious movement using the bulbous-headed, mouthless aliens from episodes one and two as players in their game, worthy of Doctor Who as a series? Not even close.
Moffat's increasingly been rubbing me the wrong way ever since the premiere of Series 5 last year. He can't be replaced soon enough, in my opinion. I can only hope that his eventual replacement will go out of his or her way to clean up the storytelling mess he's made of things. It's natural to ask audiences to suspend disbelief when consuming fiction. But to ask us to toss it out the window and forget what was established just one episode ago, or earlier in a season, is just asking too much.
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