Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Closing Time

Dear Gary—
“I’ve been knocking about on my own for a bit. Bit of a farewell tour. One last thing, popping in to see you.”
Closing Time is exactly that—the Doctor popping in to see Craig in this penultimate episode prior to the big bang farewell of the season. It is the popping in aspects of the story that shine. Since events of The Lodger Craig and Sophie have moved. (Doctor: “Oh, you’ve redecorated; I don’t like it.” Craig: “It’s a different house. We moved.”) And they have had a baby named Alfie. (“Yes, he likes that, Alfie, though personally he prefers to be called Stormageddon.”) Craig, however, is the same; as personable as ever; and he and the Doctor still make comedy gold.
The Cybermen put in an appearance in the story, but they are more or less incidental. Their Cybermats hold greater threat than the depleted men of steel. However they do provide the monster of the week for the tale and give an excuse for the Doctor to stick around. He is hesitant to do so at first. This 200-years-older-than-last-we-saw-him Doctor has apparently grown tired of saving the day. He is lonely and exhausted and has only one day left to live. All he wants is to get into the TARDIS and leave. However once he makes the decision to stay he is all in; this is what he does; weariness gives way to enthusiasm.
The toy department of a store is the perfect place for the Doctor as he investigates with childlike delight the mysterious happenings in Craig’s neighborhood. The strange disappearances, the power fluctuations, and the “patina of teleport energy” pique the Doctor’s interest. “And then there’s that silver rat thing.” That really gets the Doctor excited.
The Doctor has been so weighed down lately with the responsibilities of being The Doctor; it is nice to see a return to the pure joy of being the Doctor. There is a brief moment when he warns off Craig, but Craig will have none of it. “I know where it’s safe for me and Alfie,” he tells the Doctor, “and that’s right next to you.” He really doesn’t have much reference to base this claim on, and he is taking a huge risk with the life of his son, but I’ll allow it. Together the three of them make a great team.
The Doctor has another pang of angst when he spies Amy and Rory, who conveniently and coincidentally just happen to be wandering through the store. This is such an obviously contrived scene that it takes away from the emotional impact it intends; and all I can wonder is when and how exactly did Amy become this minor perfume-hawking celebrity? Did we know this about her? Did the Doctor know this about her? I find it odd that the subject of her stardom has never arisen before. The point in time that our present adventure is taking place is the day before the events in The Impossible Astronaut; nothing from this season has yet occurred for her. Her star must have risen in lightening speed, sandwiched in with TARDIS adventures during the months between her wedding (June of 2010) at the end of last season and the Doctor’s death (April of 2011) at the beginning of this season.  And then I have to wonder how it is that Amy and Rory were stumped by the word petrichor in The Doctor’s Wife, which takes place chronologically after this story, when Amy’s perfume is called Petrichor.
However I will put that aside to enjoy the Doctor and Craig taking care of a baby while hunting Cybermen.  The shushing bit is hilarious and the Doctor translating Alfie for Craig (“I speak baby”) is amusing. The running joke of the Doctor and Craig being mistaken as a couple is funny at first but soon gets old and leads to one of those lines of script that stand out for me as being forced. Val asks Craig if they are married, to which Craig replies (thinking of Sophie), “No. We talked about it, but it’s just a piece of paper, isn’t it?” Now this is not Craig speaking. Not the Craig from The Lodger who was so desperately in love with Sophie and who’s love caused the alien spaceship to implode. That Craig would drag Sophie off to the nearest register office and tie her up with that piece of paper so fast she wouldn’t have time to think about it. Here a disappointed Craig is most probably echoing Sophie’s laissez faire philosophy on marriage, but even so the line exists simply to milk the gay gag when it has already been done to death. I will also put that aside, though, and instead enjoy the sight of Craig trying to question the staff and ending up knocking over a rack of ladies under garments.
 Ultimately the Doctor and Craig show is all about Craig learning to have confidence in himself, first and foremost as a father. Unfortunately it is marred by the over-the-top, sappy, love not only conquers all but blows up all solution to the Cybermen. Craig is being converted, his emotions are completely eradicated, but Alfie cries and the system is rebooted. It is just so conveniently easy when it needs to be; when the Cybermen are there not to be Cybermen but merely to provide the requisite amount of danger for the theme to be reinforced. No explanations; just: “I blew them up with love.” Even the Doctor can’t begin to explain it and acknowledges that it is “grossly sentimental and over simplistic.” Going forward, I suppose, the Doctor will know how to combat the Cyber conversion process—think of your loved ones (similar to Amy‘s solution to the Bracewell bomb in Victory of the Daleks). Then again, I’m sure it will be forgotten the next time the Cybermen appear—just like the gold defense has long been abandoned.
Craig and Alfie are safe and closer than ever at the conclusion of the adventure as Sophie returns home. Hopefully this new, self-assured Craig will now work up the courage to tell Sophie what he really thinks about family and marriage.
Another fun, lightweight, mostly standalone episode.
And then we have the arc tacked on, bridging us over to the finale.
It is an extremely poor segue. There is no reason in the world that the three children would take such fascinating note of the Doctor; no reason for them to stop their play; no reason for them to remember the moment; no reason for anyone to track them down to take statements. None. But there you have it. River is reading the witness reports of this mundane non-event as Eye Patch Lady (can’t quite bring myself to call her Kovarian) and a couple of Silents approach armed with a NASA spacesuit.
“You never really escaped us, Melody Pond,” EPL (Aka K) tells her. “We were always coming for you.”
Why? Will someone please tell me why? Why does it have to be River who kills the Doctor? Why did she need to be brainwashed if the suit will make her do it against her will? Why, in heaven’s name, why a spacesuit? Why a NASA spacesuit? Why?
Tick tock goes the clock, Gary . . . but nobody can answer why.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The God Complex

Dear Gary—
“So, what have we got? People snatched from their lives and dropped into an endless, shifting maze that looks like a 1980’s hotel with bad dreams in the bedrooms. Well, apart from anything else, that’s just rude.”
A succinct and simple summary of a succinct and simple story; except it isn’t as simple as that. Like the hotel, the plot is a complex maze of faiths and fears with shifting parameters. I have to say, Gary, that it took me a long time to warm up to this episode. My distaste for the recent direction of the show always colored my perception of it. Truthfully, for at least a season and a half I tend to watch each installment with a sense of resentment. However I deliberately tried to set aside any chips on shoulder for this latest viewing of The God Complex and have come to a deeper appreciation of it, flaws and all.
 The God Complex does what New Who does so well. It covers the defects with skill . . . usually with spectacle and effects and emotional wallops, but in this case more subtly with thought provoking themes and with atmosphere.
The 1980’s Earth (of course) hotel mock-up with nightmares hiding in every room is creepy. It does seem to come too closely on the heels of Amy and Rory trapped in a dollhouse from hell, but that’s minor. The opening “Praise Him” sequence with Lucy sets the mood perfectly for this house of psychological horrors, followed by the sinister sight of all of those ventriloquist dummies surrounding the helpless Joe. I only half-heartedly wonder why Joe is tied up; there is no logical explanation for it unless he had become violent towards the others, which I highly doubt. At this point in the tale they don’t know what is going on so I have no clue as to why they would bind him to a chair and abandon him in a roomful of his greatest fear. (Why his fear has manifested in the restaurant rather than in one of the bedrooms like all of the others is another mystery.)
The trio that the Doctor, Amy, and Rory run across in these ever-changing hallways also helps to deflect any nagging questions; the competent Rita, the nerdy Howie, and the cowering Gibbis. Any one of these would make for an interesting addition to the TARDIS crew, although Rita is clearly the Doctor’s first choice (shades of Martha). Personally I think having the untrustworthy Gibbis on board would make for a fascinating dynamic, but undoubtedly none of them is fated to make it that far.
It is through the fears and faiths of these three that we (that is the Doctor) begin to learn of the intention of the alien Minotaur cousin to the Nimon; however it is also through these that the narrative falls apart.
The fears lurking for Rita and Howie are appropriate, if somewhat stereotypical; Rita finds a disapproving father behind her door while Howie is confronted by a bevy of belittling beauties. Gibbis’ fear is rather random and seems more just an excuse to give the Weeping Angels some screen time. It is interesting that for Rita and Howie the terror is internal whereas Gibbis’ fear is a tangible threat, but nothing is ever explored down this line of thinking so I’ll abandon it as well.
Now as the Doctor reasons, the Minotaur uses these personalized phobias in order to foster and feed upon each individual’s belief system.  That is the theory, at any rate, but it doesn’t quite hold up in practice since the fears and the faiths don’t quite gel for any of them.
Rita’s Muslim heritage is the basis for her faith and it is the strongest of the trio; however Islam is hardly a defense against her daddy issues. Her idea that the hotel is Jahannam is what brings out her faith and lends her strength. “You don’t understand,” she tells the Doctor. “I say that without fear.” Without fear. The idea that she is in hell erases her fears. “Jahannam will play its tricks,” she continues, “and there’ll be times when I want to run and scream, but I’ve tried to live a good life, and that knowledge keeps me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms.” Poppa behind the door only brings out her faith in a roundabout way, not directly, but I suppose it ultimately does its job.
That doesn’t explain Howie, though. Howie spouts conspiracy theories, but that is not faith. If anything, the certainty of conspiracies displays a fundamental distrust in all things. And at any rate, how can a conspiracy theory save him from the mockery of empty-headed blondes? The supposed fear and faith do not correlate.
The weakest link, however, is Gibbis. Gibbis has no convictions whatsoever. He cowers and surrenders; he epitomizes the absence of faith. Perhaps that is why the Minotaur never goes after him; but then why was Gibbis kidnapped to begin with?
The whole kidnapping aspect of the plot is also suspect. Are people chosen at random or targeted? How are they transported? And why? Yes, I know it is to feed the Minotaur; but this is a prison. The only explanation is that the Minotaur’s captors belong in jail themselves. Are there more prisons like this out there preying on the unsuspecting populace of the Doctor Who universe, and if so why are they allowed to exist? What is this ruthless race of aliens anyway? None of this is explained in any satisfactory way.
In the long run, however, it just doesn’t matter. Or at least I don’t really care. The characters are engaging, the action thrilling, and the setting spooky. And it is all window dressing for the deeper questions it explores regarding the Doctor and his relationships. Truthfully I could do without more rehashing of this subject, but since New Who insists on it, this is as entertaining a way to go about it as any.
Let me get this out of the way: I am ambivalent towards Rory in this episode. Normally he saves the show for me, but in this one I shake my head at his characterization as someone with no beliefs. I go all the way back to The Eleventh Hour and remember a Rory who was full of almost childlike wonder. He was possessed of an open and curious mind. That was his pre-Doctor existence. Here he is suddenly hard and cynical with no guiding principles, and I have to say that a faithless Rory is a tad boring. Arthur Darville still manages to breathe life into the character, however, so all is not lost. And I suppose one could argue that this transformation is the result of his travels with the Doctor, and if so is more damning of the Doctor than any physical danger he and Amy face.
Ultimately, though, it is the Doctor’s effect upon Amy, and companions in general, that is at the heart of the tale. New Who has flirted with this concept almost from the beginning, and there is a danger in this. I have already questioned why Amy and Rory would continue traveling with the Doctor after everything that they have gone through; when the show explicitly raises the question it makes the viewer aware that life in the TARDIS is really not much fun. While that can give an edge to the show that is compelling, it can also ruin the enjoyment for a large section of the audience. It is a tightrope act; and I have to say that it is one in which New Who cheats. It likes to dangle the dangerous side of the Doctor in front of us, but it does so with a wink in its eye. Thus we get the Doctor fretting over the peril he has placed Amy and Rory in and advising Rita: “Offer a child a suitcase full of sweets and they’ll take it; offer someone all of time and space and they’ll take that too; which is why you shouldn’t.” He follows this up with a soberly delivered: “Which is why grown-ups were invented.” Only to brightly offer up all of time and space to Rita. Traveling with the Doctor is hazardous and don’t ever forget that, the show admits; but never mind, don’t take it too seriously. Walking on a tightrope, but with a huge net below.
We mustn’t forget that net as the Doctor breaks Amy’s faith in him. He accomplishes this by lying. “I can’t save you from this,” he tells her. “There’s nothing I can do to stop this.” He is of course in the process of saving her by telling her these things. He throws in a few semi truths to keep it real: “I took you with me because I was vain; because I wanted to be adored.” But none of this is convincing stuff to break Amy’s spirit. The Doctor did a much better job of it with Ace in The Curse of Fenric. If he really wants to do some damage he would bring up Melody and the fact that he promised to find Amy’s baby for her but that he has essentially stopped looking. But the tepid stuff he offers up seems to do the trick. I’m not really sure why or how this kills the monster, but oh well (as we say in Alvin).
Because her faith in him literally almost killed her, the Doctor decides it is time to say goodbye to Amy (and Rory).  “Why now?” Amy asks. “Because you’re still breathing,” the Doctor replies. And then in a dark moment of reflection he says, “And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave? Over your broken body? Over Rory’s” (again)? He hasn’t restored her baby to her, but he at least gives the couple a car and a house as door prizes before leaving them on their own. However there is that net always—“You haven’t seen the last of me.”
A number of things would have made this episode so much better. If the fears and faiths had matched up better or if the alien and the logistics of the place had been better explained for instance. But once again the story suffers in service to the arc and to the production. We needed to get to a place where the Doctor could question his influence upon his companions and where he could drop off those companions to once again fly solo. And too, if the production team would commit to the dark side of the Doctor, work without a net, and properly and seriously explore the dire consequences of traveling with the Doctor rather than using it as a device that will be forgotten the next time the Doctor runs across Amy and Rory or some other companion he decides to whisk away. Even still it is a decent enough adventure and I can say that I have enjoyed much of this season despite myself.
And so, Gary . . . “you haven’t seen the last of me.”

Friday, May 15, 2015

The Girl Who Waited

Dear Gary—
Doctor Who is in a rut; it is trapped in one of its own time bubbles reliving the same things over and over and over again, only in different ways as in alternate time lines. There is the ever popular Rory is dead/no he’s not scenario; the Rory/Doctor competition in Amy’s mind; the waiting for—fill in the blank; the daisy petal does she love him or does she not pastime; and the I’m Amy Pond, no I’m Amy Pond game.
The Girl Who Waited hands us a trifecta of these themes, with one of the winners explicitly stated in the title. It is a refreshing rehash, I’ll give it that. It is a clever script given added warmth by the actors. On its own it is a solid entry. But in the greater context—do we really need these points hammered home quite so often?
“I don’t care that you got old. I care that we didn’t grow old together.” Ah, Rory. Rory is the answer and the key. Rory gives an extra dimension to the tired topics.
Then there is the fact that they have materialized on a planet other than Earth for a change. (“Apalapucia.” “Say it again?” “Apalapucia.”)This alone warrants applause.  From the Doctor’s description it sounds beautiful, although hardly worthy of the “number two planet in the top ten greatest destinations for the discerning intergalactic traveler” designation he claims for it. But then we never get to see it properly to judge for ourselves.
Apalapucia is under quarantine when our trio arrives. A deadly plague has befallen the planet, a plague that affects beings with two hearts. Amy and Rory are immune, therefore, but the Doctor is not; thus necessitating his remaining in the TARDIS for the bulk of the episode.
Now I have multiple problems with the logistics of the place and these so-called “kindness” facilities. First of all, a Handbot informs them that there are 40,000 residents in the facilities, so where are they? Not once does another sentient being appear. And why are there no emergency buttons or means of communication with anyone running the place? Is there no administration building? No security? No doctors or nurses? No maintenance crew?
And why are there no instructions? A green anchor and a red waterfall aren’t exactly informative. Given the fact that a plague infestation lurks behind one of these options I would think there would be numerous precautions set up to make sure people don’t accidentally end up in the wrong place. But then we wouldn’t have Amy blithely walking into the Red Waterfall of death and we wouldn’t have a story.
OK, so if Amy has wandered into the quarantined area for plague victims, why do the Handbots continually try to inoculate her? Even if she carries an “unauthorized infection,” everyone in there (well, Amy is the only one in there) is presumably going to die in a day anyway so what does that matter? The time for inoculations is past.
Now, about the whole “kindness” aspect of the facility. A doomed patient lives out his or her life in a compressed time stream watching movies or looking at fish or sitting around in a garden by his or her self. Alone. An entire lifetime. And this person’s nearest and dearest observe their dying  loved ones twiddling their thumbs, talking to Handbots, and generally becoming bored once the novelty of their chosen entertainment zone wears off. It’s little more than a zoo. A zoo in fast forward. Thirty-six years have gone by for Amy yet only a few minutes for the Doctor and Rory; if they had sat and watched her as they were meant to they would have seen only a blur.
Regardless, Amy is trapped in an accelerated time stream while the Doctor and Rory try to come up with a way to save her (never once thinking to try to contact anyone in charge).
“You didn’t save me.” Wow, this older Amy is . . . I’ll say unreasonable to be kind. Unreasonable, cranky, ornery. Yes, she has been waiting around for 36 years. But that’s just it—she has been waiting around to be saved. In all of those 36 years did she ever try to do anything to save herself? She somehow miraculously made herself a sonic ‘probe’ and has been clever enough to survive amongst the Handbots, but what has she done in the way of finding an exit or some means of communication with . . .who the heck is in charge of this place anyway? But OK, she has been waiting around for 36 years to be saved, and when Rory arrives to save her she greets him with, “You didn’t save me.” Only to find out that one of the main reasons he didn’t save her is because she refused to help.
About that. Most people who have led a tragic life and who are then given the chance to go back and change it would jump at the opportunity. Not Amy. Not older, unreasonable, cranky, ornery Amy. She prefers to wallow in her misery. It’s her miserable life, dammit; no one is going to change one dismal detail of it. Not even Rory. She’ll blame him right enough for not saving her, but by golly she’s not going to allow him to save her. Her reasoning is that if she is rescued in the past her present self will cease to exist. But she is Amy; Amy Young and Amy Old; if Amy Young is saved Amy Old will still exist in 36 years time, just under happier circumstances (presumably). Old Amy really needs to get over herself.
This is where Rory comes in. “Do it for him,” Young Amy tells Old Amy after they both admit, “Rory’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”  It is love for Rory that convinces Amy the elder to rescue her younger self. And it is the thought of Amy’s and Rory’s first kiss (which apparently took place during the Macarena) that does the deed. No doubt about it, Amy loves Rory. Why there would still be doubt this far along in the series is beyond me, but there you go.
This love story angle, though, is what gives the story heart. Karen Gillan does a great job depicting both Amys, each holding fast to the ideal of Rory. However, it is Arthur Darville as that ideal who steals the show. The Amy loves Rory plot is just words without Arthur Darville giving life and soul to the part of Rory. We can believe that Amy considers him the most beautiful man she has ever met because of Arthur Darville’s performance.
The stubbornness of Old Amy threatens our happy ending until she works out a deal with the Doctor; she still isn’t willing to let go her wretched existence. She will help in the rescue of herself only if she is allowed to co-exist with her younger version. Despite the massive paradox this would create and despite breaking those once sacred laws of time, the Doctor agrees.
 Except—Rule One, the Doctor lies.
Again it is Rory who breathes life into these segments.
To Rory, both Amys are valid. Both are real. Both are his Amy. I go back to that quote I cited earlier: “I don’t care that you got old. I care that we didn’t grow old together.” He meets Old Amy and he accepts her as his wife without question. He is presented with the prospect of two Amys and he reasons, “Amy, you always say, cooking Christmas dinner, you wish there was two of you.” (Stark contrast to Flesh Amy’s reaction to Flesh Doctor—but I digress.) For the Doctor, however, Young Amy is very clearly “our Amy,” and Old Amy will simply never have existed. “There can’t be two Amys in the TARDIS.”
For the Doctor the choice is obvious. For Rory it is agonizing: “So I have to choose – which wife do I want?” He can see and talk to both; he can only save one.
“She is me,” Old Amy reasons with her husband. “We’re both me.” She is right, of course, but she doesn’t really see her own point. If “she is me” and “we’re both me” then she shouldn’t have a problem with saving Young Amy.  Old Amy has asserted her independence however, and Rory is caught in the middle.
“You being here is wrong,” Rory asserts. “For a single day, for an hour, let alone a lifetime.” Rory is feeling the pain of every long and arduous day that Old Amy has felt. And then he (justly) turns on the Doctor: “This is your fault. You should look in a history book once in a while, see if there’s an outbreak of plague or not.”
“That is not how I travel,” the Doctor responds, to which Rory shoots back, “Then I do not want to travel with you!” And he goes on to condemn: “This isn’t fair. You’re turning me into you.” (Another ongoing theme in New Who—the sometimes deleterious effect the Doctor has upon his companions. And as long as I’m mentioning it—here we go again with the 'fill-in-the blank’s choice' drama.)
Finally Old Amy sees the light and relents. “Tell Amy, your Amy, I’m giving her the days. The days with you. The days to come.”
It is heartbreaking to see Rory turn the latch on his wife. To him Old Amy will always exist. The Doctor and Young Amy can take it in stride, but Rory will always live with the painful memory of the wife he turned away.
The Girl Who Waited doesn’t give us anything new, but it gives it to us in a unique way and it is performed with feeling.  I’ll accept that, Gary, as I continue on.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Night Terrors

Dear Gary—
“Well, I suppose it can’t be all planets and history and stuff.”
Not much of it is these days. Rory has about a 90% chance that the planet will be Earth when he opens the TARDIS door. As for history, yes they have materialized in different times, but they rarely take the opportunity to soak any of it up. They have a grand time mocking and mangling history, but rarely do they witness it.
They have run across lots of stuff though. Night Terrors falls under the category of stuff. It is a quiet little tale; a standalone episode in an arc heavy season. That is a detriment and a plus. A detriment because it points out how shallow the arc really is. There is no true emotional attachment; we go from Let’s Kill Hitler, let’s find Melody, let’s uncover River, to let’s go off on a random house call with no thought whatsoever to the deep, dark tragedies of our lives.
But the plus outweighs it. As onerous as the arc is, the buoyancy of a clever little standalone tips the scale in its favor.
It over tips it, actually. Night Terrors is that much more effective simply because it distances itself from its surroundings. It is a fine piece of storytelling told by a decent cast, but there is nothing particularly outstanding about it other than its uniqueness from the season in which it resides.
It is quite claustrophobic actually, somewhat like the cupboard in which George’s fears are locked away, and that suits the plot. We are delving into the realm of childhood nightmares, something New Who is familiar with and has dealt with successfully. Monsters under the bed; images out of the corner of one’s eye; dangers lurking in the shadows; add to this list creepy dolls come to life. Although I do have to confess that the dolls are the least scary aspect of the episode for me and I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because I never had a horror of dolls. (Carrie would be the perfect audience for this; she was visiting this past month, Gary, and she banished Baby Secret—who normally resides in the Doctor Who room where Carrie’s children were camping out—to my bedroom. But I could never relate to her primal fear of dolls and clowns.)
To me, the scariest aspect is the sight of a kid all alone in the dark and petrified of the unknown terrors lurking in his closet (where his mother made him stow them away). The twist of the little boy being the alien is intriguing but not properly explored. It becomes simply a convenience to put people in peril and to have a warm and fuzzy outcome. I’m not sure why he thinks the sound of the lift is so frightening, and I’m unclear as to how or why random people in the complex get pulled into the dangers of his creation. Is this the first that people have gone missing around there, and if so, why now? Because the Doctor is there? Does George have a grudge against the landlord or the old lady? Does he even know Amy and Rory? There isn’t any logical explanation for any of them being menaced by George’s funhouse of jeopardy.
As for the lonely orphan seeking acceptance and the childless couple desperate to bestow love, it feels like a rushed solution. However it is satisfying in its happily-ever-afterness. I am reminded of the Isolus from Fear Her and the devil dad in the closet. And even though the mother/daughter dynamic was more fully explored in that earlier episode, I relate better to our present characters. The wide-eyed George and his befuddled father, together with Matt Smith’s Doctor, make for a more appealing way to spend some forty odd minutes.
That is the key to this story; the actors. They make us laugh; they make us care. Therefore, while I never really feel that Amy and Rory are in danger, I laugh when Rory says, “We’re dead . . . again.” And I’m interested as they piece together the odd nature of their trap. And I wonder how Amy Doll will turn back into real Amy (confident that she will).  And when the Doctor and Alex are pulled into the same dollhouse I figure help is on the way. I am a bit disappointed that the Father and Son Reunion conclusion is so hastily dashed off. The ‘all is right with the world’ hug takes me back to the ‘love is all you need/home is where the heart is’ wrap-up to The Lodger. It’s so handy how these things work out.
Just like that (“What, just like that?”) we come to an end and the TARDIS crew are off with the chilling nursery rhyme ringing in our ears. George is forgotten. Melody is forgotten. Amy, Rory, and the Doctor fly off.
“Now, did someone mention something about planets and history and stuff?”
I don’t mind so much if it is just stuff, Gary, if it is enjoyable to watch. Night Terrors is a little lightweight entertainment that will keep me going on this slow path of mine.

Friday, May 8, 2015

Let's Kill Hitler

Dear Gary—
“Let’s kill Hitler.” Then again, let’s not; let’s just shove him in a cupboard. (“Right. Putting Hitler in the cupboard.”)
This is something I have to learn to accept, Gary. New Who has abandoned reason and logic and sound story telling in favor of contrivance and convenience all in service to the most dramatic impact or the biggest special effect or the funniest gag. New Who has lowered the bar. Considerably. I have to accept this; and in so doing I can come to appreciate the entertainment value of the show.
And there is no getting around it; Let’s Kill Hitler is entertaining; it is rollicking good fun. Who cares if Amy and Rory will never know the joys of parenthood; will never experience their baby’s first step or first word; will never grow together as a family? They certainly don’t. And if they aren’t shedding any tears over it, neither will I. So why not kill Hitler, or at least marginalize him away and forget about him? It is oh so amusing, and who can argue with that?  
This is not the first time that one of the most heinous chapters in history has been mined for comedy gold. The Great Dictator and The Producers leap readily to mind. Let’s Kill Hitler is not in the same class as those two classics, but it suffices.
However, the Führer and Third Reich are nothing more than a punch line in this episode. The story could take place in any place and any time. It is extremely unlikely that the Doctor would have accommodated the murderous Mels by taking her to WWII Germany, but it gives us a cool episode title and gives Rory the opportunity to punch Hitler. Once that is accomplished we can wash our hands of them. Even when Mels (Aka Melody; Aka River) holds up a room full of people, not a Nazi is to be found. Instead we have the heretofore unknown Teselecta arriving on the scene to exact revenge.
Here is a perfect example of the New Who formula. The Teselecta transforms itself in spectacular fashion into a perfect duplicate of General Zimmerman down to his suit, belt, boots, buttons, and insignia. But it doesn’t do glasses. That is so we can have the a few brief but totally cool moments as the Teselecta slowly reaches out to grab the specs off the real General’s face.
“Time travel has responsibilities,” Carter explains of the Teselecta. A robot worked by tiny people and that travels through time seeking out the worst criminals of the universe in order to extract them at the end of their life to “give them hell.” The Time Lords never would have allowed this, and the Doctor is understandably appalled. I’m not even going to get into who thought this was a good idea or why the Doctor has never run across them or why, as long as they are going to all the time and cost, they have allowed the likes of Davros (to name only one) to run wild. It is great in concept and execution, even if there is no context for it.
Likewise the antibodies. These friendly little mechanical killers are wonderfully creepy. Not very practical, but they add some menace to the proceedings to keep things lively. Harriet’s close call with these robotic cleaners illustrates how stupid an idea it is to have them on board. Rory and Amy also are lucky that Jim shows up when he does and that the sensors he clamps on their wrists don’t malfunction. When Amy turns the antibodies on the crew—well, what else do they expect?
It is fortunate as well that Zimmerman is “guilty of Category Three hate crimes” and that this is punishable by death. I’m not sure when his trial was held, but at least the Teselecta crew can rest easy with clear conscience knowing that his execution is righteous. His Party might notice that he has gone missing, though, and there might be some pesky history altering as a result of his premature demise, but what is that to these intergalactic assassins? It is somewhat inconsistent with their mission, however. They make a great point of halting their operation against Hitler when they realize it is too soon in his timeline, and they take great pride in explaining to the Doctor that they don’t kill but rather torture their victims. However this doesn’t seem to be a hard and fast rule with them as they quickly turn their attention to River even though she is far from the end of her life. But whatever; they act according to the script and to the greatest advantage for the plot.
The plot centers on River (Aka Mels, Aka Melody). We had the big reveal last time around, now comes some filling in of some blanks. Thus we get scenes of Mels shoehorned into the past of Amy and Rory. I’m not sure why these two hang around this juvenile delinquent. Based on the few glimpses we get of Mels, there is nothing that is remotely likeable about her. However we are to believe that she has been close with Amy and Rory since childhood even though we have never seen or heard about her before now (nor has the Doctor). Again, whatever. It serves the narrative so let’s roll with it.
The regeneration scene is well done, and the lighthearted, flirtatious sparring between Melody (Aka Mels, Aka River) and the Doctor is amusing. (I especially love the banana gag.) Alex Kingston plays Melody’s delight in her new body to the hilt, and her jealous curiosity at the repeated name of River is amusing and makes her subsequent discovery of her identity all that more poignant.
As fun as it all is, I still can’t quite believe. The Silence went to all the convoluted trouble to capture Baby Pond. They brainwashed her; indoctrinated her; brought her up with the sole purpose of killing the Doctor. She is a psychopath; a killing machine. Yet when only a child she escaped, sought out her parents, and lived out her youth without The Silence taking any notice. And rather than take any of the ample opportunities she must have had during her tenure in Leadworth, she waits until now to meet and kill the Doctor. Her prime directive and she puts it off. At the very least she could have kissed him deadly at Amy’s and Rory’s wedding. And while Alex Kingston is very convincing, I still view River’s change of heart as much too rushed for one so dedicated for so many years. But again I have to go back to New Who’s prime directive and let all of that slide in preference to the entertaining package they are selling.
The dying Doctor is another highlight. “Regeneration disabled”—of course it is. How? Who knows and who cares. His interaction with the Voice Interface alone is worth it. His rejection of his own image is priceless, followed by the guilt-laden images of Rose, Martha, and Donna before he settles on the incomparable Amelia Pond. The rather irritable insistence on the part of the Voice Interface that it is not in fact Amelia Pond is puzzling for an impersonal computer program, but again who cares? It’s funny. As well as its repeated declaration that he will be dead in thirty two minutes. It is not very helpful, this Voice Interface, but it is highly amusing. And then to top off the bit: “fish fingers and custard.”
River giving up all of her remaining regenerations in order to save the Doctor is the epitome of convenience, contrivance, and dramatic impact. It is fitting and right that it should be so. And the Doctor leaving the blank blue diary by her bedside is the best touch of all.
The worst touch—“The Silence is not a species.” (Did anyone imply that it was?) “It is a religious order, or movement. Their core belief is that silence will fall when the question is asked.” Here it is, that inane Arc of Silence. What is The Question? “The oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight.” But what is it? (Oh, good God, who cares?) “Unknown.” Of course it is. They don’t know what the question is, but they know it exists and that it is the oldest question. Gobbledygook. Mumbo Jumbo. Forty-two.
This is of course meant to light up the fan forums and keep the season arc alive. The problem is that it will have to be addressed one day, and that inevitably can only be a disappointment.
Oh well, moving on . . .
The Doctor had promised Amy and Rory that he would find their baby. He doesn’t. Instead he finds the fully grown River, and apparently Amy and Rory are OK with that. Small consolation, but oh well, life in the TARDIS goes on. Now if the Doctor really wanted to find Baby Pond, all he would have to do is ask the grown River where she was held as a child. But River obviously does not want her past to change. She doesn’t care about the heartbreak her parents suffered (well, except they don’t seem to really suffer all that much); she knows how everything turns out for her and she doesn’t want to miss out on any of that adventure. And so she and the Doctor invent this ‘spoilers’ game to cover their tracks. It has nothing to do with laws of time—New Who has proven that there are no ill consequences when time lines are crossed (unless the plot calls for it to be so).
I’ll play along, Gary; it’s more fun that way.