Doctor Who: Extremis Review

The Moffey Toffee is back to bewilder us, beguile us and manufacture a complex goose chase that winds like a wander through a labyrinthine Vatican library of heresy. That’s a thing, right? Spoilers.

Extremis follows in Moffat’s tradition of writing Who adventures for Peter Capaldi which bend the rules of the show and can be viewed as either a stand-alone story or as a bridging puzzle piece which contributes to the wider series arc. Extremis is a number of tales and concepts wrapped into 47 minutes. The episode begins with a flash back to a pivotal moment in The Doctor’s recent history which was the turning point between his old life with River Song on Derillium and his new life on Earth with finicky Nardole and a Vault beneath Bristol University. On the other hand it’s a story about faith and identity which leads from the Vatican - the centre of Catholic belief in a higher power - to the revelation that the The Doctor, Nardole and Bill who we have been following are nothing more than computer algorithms.

Doctor Who has a history of flirting with sacrilege, from as far back as the Russell T. Davies era which took great joy in presenting the Tennant and Eccleston Doctors as amalgams for Christ, up until the latest Moffat-created villains “The Monks” who are the fourth set of religious figures to act as antagonists in his stories. Religious imagery appears in stories like The Voyage of the Damned which shows The Tenth Doctor ascending in the arms of Angels to the control deck of the ship. It appears in The Last of the Timelords when he is revivified from an ancient body into the handsome Tennant, arms outstretched like the crucified Jesus, by the power of belief spread by his prophet Martha. Moffat, besides creating the murderous Weeping Angels, introduced the villainous Headless Monks (A Good Man Goes to War), the militant church of the future (Time of Angels) and even his forgettable recurring villains The Silence are revealed to be priests in service to the Papal Mainframe.

Extremis could put off religious viewers with multiple stabs being taken at the Church. I particularly enjoyed the moment where Bill describes the Hereticum as being like “Harry Potter.” The Doctor tells her to mind her “language” poking fun of the religious groups who view the harmless childhood classics as being worth no more than kindling. The joke is subtly payed off when Bill takes the Lord’s name in vain a few minutes later and no one bats an eyelid. The episode plays around with the conflict between institutions as symbols of power and the importance of the actions of individuals. I feel that its no coincidence that The Doctor currently gives his age as 2000 meaning he has been around as long, if not longer than the word of Christ and the fact that the conclusion to the episode takes place with him sitting in the President’s chair in the oval office infers that there is no higher power on Earth than him.

These themes verge on being repetitive, like the other episodes in Series 10 it’s a Moffat greatest hits episode. The scene at CERN where the crowd chant identical random numbers as one is almost the inverse of the scene from Last Christmas where the scientists have dreamed different words on the same pages of their books. Both scenes indicate that the characters are lost in an artificial world. The sets also call back to previous episodes with the white projector room strongly resembling the leisure facility in Tom MacRae’s episode The Girl Who Waited and the Doctor returning to the Oval Office calls back to his previous visit in The Impossible Astronaut. Whether or not this is a problem depends on the episode, for me the call backs were only an issue in Knock Knock because they weren’t properly absorbed into the substance of the story (ironic, perhaps given that the episode was about a house which absorbed people into its substance.) Here we have a script which is a remix more than a retread, it takes the concepts further.

The appearance of the Pope amused me, The Doctor travels through time meeting writers and leaders from history so why not meet a public figure from the present? In fact, this episode contains both the current Pope and the dead body of the current president (sans blonde wig). The script eliminates figures of authority - the powerful in the president, the religious in the Pope and the intellectuals in the scientists of CERN until the Doctor is the last one left. Not only does Moffat strip them of life but he also strips them of hope and dignity. The script reminded me strongly of the work of Douglas Adams. This corner of the Doctor Who universe is ruled by the laws of irony and poetry like the Hitchhikers universe. In fact, in a script penned by Adams, the classic City of Death the prestige of great artwork La Mona Lisa is stripped away too, as it is revealed to be one of a set and beneath the paint is The Doctor’s handwriting saying This is a Fake. So too the concept of religion is picked away. With the revelation that our main characters are nothing more than lines of code we see Nardole, Bill and finally The Doctor stripped of all hope. They aren’t real, they were just created to satisfy the ends of the malicious Monks. In losing all hope and identity everyone from the President to the inhabitants of The Vatican chose to take their own lives but a parallel has been put in place from the start. Isn’t that what Christianity teaches anyway? That we have been created to fulfil the purpose of a higher being, therefore isn’t everything that we do for someone greater than us? A simulation, if you will. The Monks represent the higher power within the simulation, just as the priests worship the higher power in the real world.

Moffat writes complicated scripts which require a few viewings. I read a Facebook comment on the BBC's Facebook page by a man who was complaining that he needed to be sober to enjoy this episode with his son, (the world’s smallest violin is playing for him.) Yet Moffat also consistently undermines the drama of a story with a glib sense of humour which looks to many as though it’s infantile. These quirks are embodied in the character of Nardole who I am enjoying more and more by the week. His dialogue in this episode followed a certain formula of inferring something deeply powerful and consequential about his being before undermining it with a piece of broad comedy. For me it was preferable to the pattern pitched to Jamie Mathieson in a brief which suggested Nardole reveal strange pieces of information about his past in non-sequeters - which is the pattern for almost every alien Doctor Who character from River Song to The Doctor himself. The finest example of Nardole in Extremis, developing a strong rapport with Bill, was a follows

Bill: Nardole, are you a secret bad ass?

Nardole: Nothing secret about it, babydoll. (Sees dead body and screams.)

In this moment, it is confirmed that Nardole is not just the cowardly fool first introduced in The Husbands of River Song, who was more irritating than amusing, but that he has has lived for a long time, and been a companion to the Doctor. He’s seen things, he knows things and yet his nature hasn’t entirely been whittled away. Matt Lucas is not a realistic performer and for some I’m sure this will affect their enjoyment but he is, at the end of the day an alien character and so he wouldn’t behave like anyone we’ve met in life.

Nardole’s character took on a lot more weight in the story this week with his connection to River Song being brought to the fore. It was nice to see the events of an untold, linking adventure play out with the failed execution of Missy. The bewildering shift of circumstances between the 2015 Christmas special and the start of Series 10 special which took The Doctor from living on an alien planet in the company of his wife to living as a university lecturer, guarding a vault with a servant was a leap but the bridge helped to consolidate the two chapters in The Doctor's life. It’s nice to see all of Moffat’s most outlandish creations in one place. Missy and Nardole and the words of River Song together for the first and probably last time.

The mini-adventure is compelling enough, featuring a number of Moffat tropes like the misleading dialogue which makes the viewer question which Time Lord is to be executed right up until Missy kneels down. It also features a couple of Moffat’s worst habits especially in the resolution - the manner in which The Doctor escapes the executioner race. After refusing to kill Missy in the name of friendship, The Doctor forfeits his own life but to escape retribution he tells his employer to look up his deaths. The Doctor has, of course died 13 times and it hasn’t stuck. This spooks the executioners who decide not to try to kill him after all. This resolution has its roots as far back in the series as Silence in the Library/ Forest of the Dead the first River Song story. The Doctor stops the Vashta Nerada from trying to eat him by telling them to look him up in the library. He uses his reputation to convince them not to try to kill him. The same trick buys him time in The Pandorica Opens when multiple armies run away at the prospect of facing him. It’s a cheat and it didn’t make much sense in 2008 or 2010 either. It makes less sense now. One of the biggest themes in Season 6 - starring Matt Smith - was The Doctor’s legacy and the way in which it causes more trouble than its worth (“To the people of the Forest the word Doctor means Warrior.”) The climax of this series sees the Doctor planning to delete every record of himself from the universe. In the following Christmas special, he doesn’t go by The Doctor at all but The Caretaker and in the following series opener a time-echo of Clara’s named Oswin deletes him even from the memory banks of The Daleks. The point is, after taking a whole series to explain that the Doctor’s reputation is now a secret and that he can’t pull this cheaty little trick. Moffat shouldn’t be pulling this cheaty little trick again!

And yet, what this episode is fundamentally about is The Doctor, and what The Doctor title means. In spite of hooking the audience in with the concept of a book that will kill anyone who reads it this transpires to be nothing more than just a hook. (I might add that the central concepts of this and the following two episodes have been so vague that I suspect the concept of a 5000 year old Pyramid appearing out of nowhere will also prove to be just a hook.) Moffat combines his two seemingly disparate plots with a deft move. When the Doctor discovers that he is nothing more than a program he is ready to do as everyone else has, give up hope. What is it then that The Doctor has which The President, The Priests and the Scientists do not? Ironically enough it’s Faith. The words of River Song return to him, as close to his heart as the book which they are written in which he keeps in his chest pocket.

“Only in darkness are we revealed. Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour in the deepest pit, without hope, without witness, without reward. Virtue is only virtue in extremis. This is what he believes. This is the reason, above all, I love him. My husband. My madman in a box.”

This passage is essentially an extended version of The Doctor’s vow to be “Never cruel nor cowardly.” We learn why this episode is called Extremis, in a way this is the worst situation The Doctor has ever been in. “I have nothing”, he says “not even hope.” Before, even when at the heart of a Dalek fleet or when he is mourning the death of yet another friend he has always had his being. The revelation that this episode is portraying nothing more than a scenario designed in a computer would be jarring for some. Children are taught from primary school not to finish a story with the revelation that it was all a dream (it’s ironic that Nardole, the real, present day Nardole doesn’t actually appear at all in this, arguably his finest episode) and yet there are consequences to Extremis. For one thing, the email is sent to the Doctor which warns him of the upcoming invasion, leading into the following episodes. Bill even has a minor character arc taking her from not having the self belief to ask out a girl to taking that chance. And fundamentally it is the story of a computer program who learned why he had the right to call himself The Doctor.

Moffat’s era presents The Doctor as an imaginary figure, a title which can embody numerous people. Even The Doctor character says that sometime he is not fit to bare the title. Rory Williams’ character arc takes him from being “just a nurse” to a character who lived 2000 years, travelled in time and is regularly mistaken for The Doctor in descriptions made of him (see, again A Good Man Goes to War). Clara claims The Doctor title a couple of times, in Flatline and in Death in Heaven. She is even given her own companion in Rigsy. The conclusion to her story line sees her become the Doctor in all but name, fleeing from Gallifrey in a Type 40 TARDIS with a new companion by her side. This episode tells the story of a program who earns the mantle. He reads from River’s account of him, written in a book like Matthew, Mark, Luke and John once did for Jesus and realises:

“I don’t believe in much. I’m not sure I believe in anything but right now belief is all I am. Virtue is only virtue in Extremis.”

In short, even though this computer program is nothing but a means to an end, it has discovered that it is not physically the man it believed itself to be, it realises that in this worst of times (this “Extremis”) that all it takes to be the Doctor is to live by his teaching. That to do good without reward is in itself being The Doctor.

We see in this episode where figures of authority and superiority are torn down that at the end of the day what is truly important is compassion and kindness. The irony of The Doctor chastising Bill for mentioning Harry Potter - that apparently anti-Christian tome - but not for taking the Lord’s name in vain is a take down of the institutes surrounding belief. The interpretation of words is the problem, not the words themselves. Maybe if we all acted with kindness for kindness sake instead of acting with the intention of looking powerful, or intelligent or making it into Heaven then the world would be a better place. Live and Love like the Doctor, not like the Pope. Did I mention sacrilege?

I love TARDIS crews of three. Here's a gallery for my own amusement.

The First Doctor, Steven and Vicki

The Second Doctor, Jamie and Zoe

The Fourth Doctor, Harry and Sarah

The Fifth Doctor, Tegan and Turlough

The Ninth Doctor, Adam and Rose

The Tenth Doctor, Martha and Jack

The Eleventh Doctor, Amy and Rory

The Twelfth Doctor, Bill and Nardole

Doctor Who: Oxygen Review

"Don't Breathe. Don't even breathe. Breathe and you're dead. Don't cough, or yawn. Don't clear your throat. And don't breathe. Good luck."

The Doctor Who fan community have been eager to find the "New Steven Moffat" ever since the "Old Steven Moffat" took over as show runner. In Russell T. Davies' era Moffat provided six episodes - four stories for four seasons. These stories The Empty Child/ The Doctor Dances, Girl in the Fireplace, Blink and Silence in the Library/ Forest of the Dead each stood out in their respective seasons as being genuinely scary, complexly (but solidly) plotted and very witty. Moffat was Golden Boy, winning the Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation (Short Form) three years in a row. He missed out in 2008 only because of Joss Whedon's exemplary web-series Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. Since taking over the show in 2010, fans have been quick to label a number of writers his successor - the new Golden Boy. When Neil Gaiman won the Hugo for his episode The Doctor's Wife, Gaiman was nominated as the natural successor, but Gaiman's second episode failed to please fans. Complex time-tale The Girl Who Waited by Tom MacRae rang alarm bells for many fans but MacRae hasn't returned to the show since 2011. And in 2014, the Zygon two-parter, Invasion and Inversion by proven show-runner Peter Harness suggested that he may become the "New Moffat". Harness' first episode Kill the Moon divided fans, though. There's passionate loathing as well as love for it out there. The "New Moffat" needs to be flawless, Harness is no New Moffat.

Of course, the search for the owner of such a strange title is moot. Steven Moffat, writer of Listen, Hell Bent, (Hugo award winning) The Pandorica Opens/ The Big Bang and The Time of Angels/ Flesh and Stone remains the Steven Moffat of Doctor Who. What's more, he has gathered a core of fiercely dependable, recurring writers around him. The series' strength comes from the continued inspiration of Sarah Dollard, Toby Whithouse, aforementioned Peter Harness and the current fan-favourite for the "New Moffat" title, Jamie Mathieson. These writers bring their own patterns and themes to the show, recognisable by the idiosyncrasies of their own writing as Moffat was once identifiable by his. Dollard's episodes include influences of the procedural drama. Whithouse's always pit the Doctor against a foe who is a dark mirror of himself. Harness takes an current issue or moral quandary and pairs it up with a high concept foe.

Jamie Mathieson has now written four standalone Doctor Who stories - Mummy on the Orient Express, The Girl Who Died, Flatline and Oxygen. His patterns and concerns when it comes to writing Doctor Who have become more and more obvious with each one of these episodes. They are classic adventures with memorable monsters and often possess clever, logical solutions to their problems. Discounting The Girl Who Died which was co-written by Moffat his episodes follow a certain structure. A high-concept monster makes a kill in the pre-title sequence. The Doctor and companions are then free to have long and amusing conversations for 15 minutes while they discover more about the conflict of the episode. The Doctor is often compromised beyond the normal restraints of the show (he is trapped in a miniaturised, dying TARDIS in Flatline and in this episode, Oxygen he loses his sonic and his sight.) Mathieson is the writer of high quality, 45 minute science fantasy. He is thoroughly dependable, so what is in this episode to set it apart?

The first thought that I had following the climax of Oxygen was “wasn’t that brutal?” Admittedly, during the episode’s run; as the loved up hopeful mother is slaughtered, as Bill is supposedly suffocated and then poisoned, as the Doctor’s sightless eyes gaze past his companions, I thought “Isn’t this brutal?” as well. With the episode’s introduction and conclusion taking place as distinct scenes in Bristol University (and it’s nice to see that the location hasn’t been forgotten) Mathieson didn’t have much time to develop and explore his tale of dread. The futuristic, space-bound adventure reminded me most of Chris Chibnall’s 2007 story 42 - all of the components are there, just replace “problem with heat” to “problem with air”. Chibnall, however, begins his story with the TARDIS landing inside the doomed spaceship S. S. Pentallian from which point the episode’s lightning-quick pace doesn’t slow for a moment. Mathieson’s script, on the other hand, doesn’t see the Doctor land on space station, Chasm Forge until seven minutes have elapsed in the 43 minute run-time. Another episode that Oxygen has been compared to is Blink. The fairly superficial complaint is that “don’t breath” is just a gimmicky reworking of "don't blink." Oxygen more closely resembles Blink in its tightness - the writer's ability to set up and round off plot threads whilst not wasting a single concept that he introduces.

One of the most intelligent things about the script is the way in which threat looms over our heroes from a variety of disparate sources and how each of these sources bares on the plot at different points. The fleeting availability of oxygen, the suits, the “zombies”, Bill’s glitching suit, the deadly conditions of space and the Suits - which is to say the faceless corporation that represents Capitalism - all work into and play off the menace that the others bring to the episode. Mathieson weaves all of these elements together with great skill, each solution to a problem leads onto another problem. When the spaceship expunges the oxygen The Doctor and co. must climb into the Suits. When the Suits are worn the “zombies” are aware of them and begin to hunt them. To escape the zombies they must exit the craft but Bill’s suit malfunctions and the Doctor must sacrifice his helmet to save her, and so on. The problems have real consequences and instead of being contrived there is a genuine narrative flow that binds them together. Mathieson advertised the episode by saying it was “satirical” and “darkly humorous”. Indeed, there are numerous examples of this humour leading into terror. An example of this is when Bill's suit - which has been programmed to murder its inhabitant - won’t be lifted off the ground for reasons of “Health and Safety”. At any moment where the challenges facing our heroes threaten to stray into the realms of contrivance there is a piece of intelligently crafted writing in place to justify it.

This is probably the best written of all of the episodes that we have seen this year. Unlike the previous episode, Knock Knock - a similarly structured story with a group of people confined in a deadly environment - it feels as though nothing is wasted. Capaldi’s “lecturer Doctor” returns in full force with his speech on the dangers of space both perfectly setting up the consequences of his forthcoming spacewalk and calling back to the likes of Listen and Before the Flood. These episodes began with lectures that brushed up against the fourth wall too. Also, unlike Knock Knock, all of the threats tie together with logical consistency. I wouldn’t, however, say that Oxygen achieves the honour of becoming a personal favourite episode of Series 10. It’s purposefully harsh tone prevents it from being as much fun as The Pilot or Sarah Dollard’s wonderful Thin Ice.

The story calls back to politically charged Doctor Whos of the past, from Jon Pertwee’s era when environmentalist Barry Letts ran the show to the anti-Thatcher, Sylvester McCoy story The Happiness Patrol. For many, the anti-capitalist themes might be a little hard to swallow with many considering escapist entertainment to be ideally suited to escaping from the woes of the present but the story wouldn’t function without it. I’ve seen complaints made that this story - which is about technology designed to help humanity turning fatal - is too similar to Episode 2, Smile (and the idea certainly isn’t new to the Moffat-era) but what they're failing to appreciate is that this story is the exact opposite. The suits are designed to kill, that is their purpose. First humans are sent out to mine ore and then, when their usefulness dries up, they are disposed of as nothing more than unprofitable "organic components”. The episode possesses a running misdirect that leads the viewer to believe they are watching a well worn Doctor Who trope but when this is turned around the twist inverts the entire story, and says something relevant about the world we live in. That's the mark of strong writing.

Oxygen is classic “what if this continues” science-fiction. It speculates on the future, following the strands of the current state of affairs into our tomorrows as Bradbury, Orwell and Huxley did before. What is so monumentally depressing is that we already live in the dystopic world created by Capitalism. We live in a world where scientists are given gagging orders by the President of the United States because he thinks business is more important than the planet we live on. We live in a world where sweat shops are commonplace, the cost of HIV medication can be raised 5000% on a whim and oil spills caused by slovenliness are treated with a slap on the wrist. Human life is worth less than money when corporations are allowed to get away with skimming a couple of million off the top. That’s a fact, we didn’t need to take a trip to the furthest reaches of space to see that.

Another sci-fi classic which strongly resembles Oxygen is Alien, the 1979 Ridley Scott horror. The most successful Alien films combine the visceral horrors of Other-ness from beyond the stars with the callousness of business. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mathieson had Alien or Aliens on in the background when he was typing up his final draft of the script. The Xenomorphs of Alien may gnaw their way through human flesh but the stories wouldn’t be complete without those monstrous characters who work in the corporate interest of fictional mega-company Weyland-Yutani - Ash (the secret android of Alien) and Burke (slimy suit of Aliens) who is told by Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley

“You know, Burke, I don't know which species is worse. You don't see them fucking each other over for a goddamn percentage.”

What makes a monster and what makes a man, indeed... I’ve read a review recently which states that this is what’s lacking from Oxygen, a character to represent the callousness of the corporation - the Scrooge to count coins and be verbally abused by Capaldi’s hippy-Doctor.

The episode is all the stronger for lacking such a character. We’ve seen the Doctor take out his issues on a number of unfortunate characters who represent his grievance of the week. Tennant viciously bullied Colonel Mace in 2008’s The Sontaran Stratagem for trying to defend his planet from a militarised race with weapons. Peter Capaldi recently spurned Steven Robertson’s Pritchard in Under the Lake for trying to make sure the character's company’s costly venture didn’t leave them bankrupt. The problem with inserting such characters is that The Doctor just ends up fighting against an innocent middle-man who is a victim of the same sets of circumstances as he is. Either that or the character is so ludicrously evil that they come across as nothing but flat and cliched in their sub-45 minutes of screen time.

It is a point in the episode’s favour that there is no face to the real villain. Capitalism is a man made concept, it has no face. It isn’t a thing and the people who propagate it are as much at its mercy as anyone else. At the end of the day, the Doctor was facing faceless boardroom suits. And the Doctor was facing faceless space Suits as well. It’s such an insane, Moffat-era piece of writing - to make your physical threat a gag metaphor for the antagonistic concept - it feels so ridiculous and yet so natural. It’s the sort of thing that I will miss most about him when he’s gone.

There are complaints to be made about this episode but it’s left me with such a sense of good will that I don’t really want to go into them. I could say that Bill’s natural characterisation is a little weaker this week. I could say that The Doctor’s “banter” with Nardole is getting a little tiresome and that I’d really like to see another side to their relationship beyond

N: “Vault.” 

D: “No. Make tea.” 

N: “Something Racist about humans.” 

I could also, as everyone else has, complain about the thinly written supporting characters but I just don’t see the need. Mathieson’s episodes aren’t really about the characters, they’re about the concepts and the clever logic that creates and resolves problems. They’re about the build up of tension and the mind-bending imagination. Perhaps the delightful hug between our heroes in the final scenes of the episode - which was just silly enough to offset the horror without being overly twee - is a sign of a fully rounded TARDIS team that will grace the screens for the rest of the series.

And did you see Space? They did that on a BBC computer! Beautiful.

Stars' American Gods: Review

It must be Christmas, this month the far too long-awaited American Gods television show has reached our screens. Published in 2001, the novel by Neil Gaiman is a magnum opus. It is everything that I look for in a book, bleak, sprawling, fiercely imaginative, darkly fantastical and bittersweet. The book was Gaiman’s attempt to write a massive story about the heart and soul of America. The book's plot is vast and meandering. Not only are we told the story of Shadow, an ex-con recently released from prison who is hired by the mysterious and charismatic Mr Wednesday but it also features shorter stories about the immigrants who built America who brought their faith in Gods with them to the New World. It is a book which attempts to capture and to say something about the heart of America, the things that make it tick, the things that the American people identify with and strive to become. It is a story about gifting, a story about love, a murder mystery and, of course, it is a work of epic fantasy.

The arrival of the American Gods television show is timely, as Neil Gaiman has recently stated, it says something of Trump’s America. I believe he meant something along the lines of "it is a reminder of where the people of America come from." Everyone's an immigrant if you go back far enough and Trump's isolationist policies are somewhat anti-American in that regard. It is a reminder of the different cultures that make up the American people - Irish, Scandinavian, African, Middle Eastern, Japanese, French, Spanish, and of course, the Native Americans - it is relevant therefore that the protagonist is the bi-racial Shadow Moon, but more on him later. The election of Donald Trump to the White House last year was like a chapter in Gaiman's surreal, horrifying novel. The America that he paints is ruled by ritual and misplaced cases of human worship. Donald Trump works as a metaphor and the embodiment of a sickness in America. He preaches on a platform of ignorance and intolerance and he represents all of those who strive for wealth for wealth’s sake. Orange-skinned, decrepit Trump is manly because he says he is, successful because he says he is, worthy of being President not because of his abilities as a businessman or a politician but because of his abilities as a salesman. He worships himself and sells that faith to his followers. He is a reality television star who won the greatest reality television show - the American presidential election. He is, like the Gods in American Gods powerful because people believe that he is powerful.

The title credits for the show speak to the lurid, tasteless America which foisted Trump into power. Neon lights, reminiscent of a Las Vegas street, turn idols of Buddah, Pyramids of the Egyptians and Christ’s crucifix into sinister, hollow symbols of the cultures which united in America. The symbols are piled on top of each other to support the eagle with wings outstretched in a sight which is reminiscent of the totem pole. Old and new come together (as with the crucified astronaut) to create something familiar but uncanny. It is with discomfort that the audience sees these symbols which may once have represented peace, charity or progress, come together to support the American belief in America. It’s the greatest country in the world… because it says it is.

Neil Gaiman once asked in an essay entitled How Dare You: On America and Writing About It why no one had ever asked “How dare he?” 

"How dare you, an Englishman, try to write a book about America, about American myths and the American soul? How dare you write about what makes America special, as a country, as a nation, as an idea?"

Certainly, like the analysis in my previous paragraph suggests, the view he captures of the country is not always entirely flattering. He has good reason to question himself. One of the things that most excited me about the television adaptation of American Gods was the potential that the American creators' voices would bring out aspects of the story that reflected their personal views of their homeland. Brian Fuller, the show-runner is a success story for fans of cult television. Pushing Daisies was a short lived show but fiercely loved and his adaptation of the Thomas Harris novels, Hannibal, has a burning, passionate hard core of fans too. I’m not familiar with his work, except for the first series of Hannibal which shares American Gods’ eye catching visuals and slow, thoughtful pace. It is too early in the show’s run to tell if Fuller is going to breath new life and insight into the story as the first episode adapt the introductory beats of the novel faithfully, but there is still much to see and I’ll be interested to experience it as it comes.

I am pleased to see the series remaining loyal to the book’s tendency to veer off on unexpected tangents. The “Coming to America” short stories are often harrowing but they stay with the reader as flashes of vivid images and pangs of regret for their character's fates. The opening scenes of the series show the as-of-yet unidentified Mr Ibis chronicling the first appearance of Odin in America, worshipped to life by a group of lost vikings. The scene is gratuitous but beautiful. It sets the tone for the series, promising that it will be both “gritty” and ludicrously over the top. The sight of blood raining down when the vikings break out in battle and the sight of more arrows being shot into their leader than could possibly be believed tease the viewers away from their reality into a world that is created by and remembered through stories.

The second episode got this Gaiman-fan's heart racing as it began with the coming of Anansi, the trickster God of West Africa and the Carribean, to America's shores. The scene, set on a Dutch slave ship, is original to the series and I hope to see many new scenes like it. Anansi comes to life in Gaiman's prose and is such a glorious character that Gaiman even wrote a lengthy spin-off novel to American Gods which featured Anansi's sons. Anansi Boys is available as an audio-book performed by Lenny Henry in his most versatile and memorable performance ever. Henry switches between the accents of London, America and a fictional island of Saint Andrews with a charisma and cheek that matches "Mr Nancy" the American embodiment of the God. When Henry drawls with Carribean inflections "Let me tell ya'a tale aboudAnansi" it sends shivers down the spine and so I knew that the show would have to hire a perfect actor to represent this character. Orlando Jones combines the charm of Anansi, a salesman-come-megachurch pastor who has that underlying callousness that would belong to the bloodthirsty deities of old.

American Gods was a long time in pre-production. I went to see Neil Gaiman when he attended the Edinburgh Book Festival in 2011 and he announced that the show had been picked up for a television adaptation. Back then Game of Thrones was fresh, inspiring (and still good) and everyone in the audience was very excited by the potential for something very special to be created. Six long years have passed since then. I left high school, completed four years of university and moved to China but I don’t think there was ever a time like the present for a show like this to come out. The strands of the show's DNA  have come together from all sorts of different places in popular culture. The show’s distinctive production and short (for America) run are in the mould of all sorts of contemporary shows which represent the golden age of television… or something. The Netflix/ HBO age of artist-run as opposed to what-a-producer-thinks-most-audience-members-will-like-run shows is full of programming which will appeal more strongly to a smaller number of people and American Gods with its violence and weirdness fits into this genre of programming. Ian McShane as Mr Wednesday comes straight from Deadwood whilst the hustler, con man story is reminiscent of the Slippin’ Jimmy cons from Better Call Saul. Norse Gods popularity is at an all-time high, with the Rick Riordan generation growing up and with the Thor characters playing such a large role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Neil Gaiman’s own book on Norse Mythology was released in February to a storming reception and so a show which weaves them into the playground of current day America seems calculated and wise.

As for our main characters, Shadow and Mr Wednesday, I was never in any doubt that the actors would bring something sparkling to the small screen. From the moment Ian McShane as Wednesday announces in the trailer “Today is my day” something special was promised. McShane is a beloved actor anyway, one of those actors who seems to have a larger reputation than list of films which you have seen. His role is the main attraction of the show, at least for those people who aren’t already fans of the book. He plays Wednesday, a hustler and vagabond. The prestigious actor’s casting makes him, from a marketing perspective, bound to become a fan favourite much like Charles Dance as Tywin in Game of Thrones or Anthony Hopkins in Westworld. His presence lends the fantasy concept gravitas and makes it OK for snobs to see it as more than just kid’s stuff. He lives up to the promise.

Leading the show is ex Hollyoaks actor Ricky Whittle who had a great deal to live up to in my mind. Shadow is, to me one of the greatest fantasy heroes in literature. I adore him. His character is summed up perfectly by a line from Wednesday in their first scene together “There’s always work for a big guy who’s smart enough to know that he’s better off letting people think he’s dumb.” Shadow is a very still character. He’s imposing to those around him because of his stature but beneath his silent exterior is a shrewd mind that understands far more than he lets on. Shadow’s behaviour is odd in the opening scenes of the book, he is curiously accepting of the strange new world that he has come to inhabit. The reader might find this off putting until they consider that this reaction is to the grief that he is feeling for the death of his wife. Shadow’s character is reserved and most of what he experiences is internal. In a way he is cut off from the rest of the world as someone experiencing depression is. He is so different from the empty-headed thug that people perceive him to be that it would always be difficult to translate him onto screen without making him a dull protagonist who is difficult to relate to or empathise with. As such, Ricky Whittle’s shadow is a rather different creature from the one in the book. Shadow’s grief and confusion are writ large in his performance. He is raw and emotional and deeply engaging. He’s something new but that’s nothing to complain about.

American Gods is set to become a favourite of mine. Every moment of the first two episodes were electrifying. A sense of wonder and dread permeate throughout every minute. Its going to be fascinating to see how the new voices and minds involved take this 16 year old novel and plunge it into the modern age.

Doctor Who: Knock Knock Review

Who’s there?

Get it?

This week’s episode has been a tough one to write about because it’s the first episode of this series which didn’t do it for me. I’ve been trying to work my way through some thoughts - to conjure some thoughts, even - and it’s been difficult. The episode just hasn’t left much of an impression on me. Perhaps it was damaged by the fact that I watched Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. the night before which is a film designed to fill your senses. In comparison the sci-fi adventure in Knock Knock seems a paltry affair, the sound design is subtler, the jokes are gentler and the songs, instead of being retro pop hits (as Bill would probably listen to) they’re Little Mix. Perhaps it’s a little unfair to entirely judge a production team’s months of hard work on such fading impressions but I have seen it twice and that’s what I’m left with. It is not bad. There are bad things in the episode as there are good things. Lets go through some of them now.

Knock Knock, like the rest of series 10 draws its inspiration heavily from the show’s past. The story is structured like a classic base-under-siege story but with the fresh twist of featuring students as the side characters in the place of underwater scientists, space technicians or future salvage crews. The students make amusing characters, coming in a number of shapes and sizes, they make a racially diverse ensemble. Mike Bartlett has taken his ability to write hyper-realist contemporary tales, as displayed in his 2015 series Doctor Foster, and applied it to his memories of being a student. It seems as though everyone has memories of living with a peculiar array of characters when they first enter the flat share scenario. From the crowd stands out Harry, the bug-eyed oddball who accompanies the Doctor to the basement in the later half of the episode, acting as a surrogate companion. Perhaps actor Colin Ryan is a ludicrous over-actor, one of those who doesn’t take their role in Doctor Who very seriously, or perhaps he is portraying a believably insecure young man who is overcompensating by pretending to be individual, to stand out in his new group of friends. There’s some special moments of authenticity, such as when lanky Paul takes the rejection of his advances on Bill with a smile, because she’s gay, so he didn’t stand a chance, so his masculine pride can remain untarnished. Although it’s impossible to know what was written by Bartlett and what was written by Moffat moments like this seem a little further outside of Moffat’s wheel-house so I would congratulate Bartlett on bringing that impression of authenticity to the Doctor’s crazy adventures.

Speaking of “Doctor Who” Capaldi is on full ludicrous-mode this week. It’s hard to tell whether Bartlett is just a fan of the moments when Capaldi’s Twelve fails to comprehend social cues or whether Moffat felt that this slightly grimmer episode deserved a little levity in the form of wacky-Doctor high-jinks. Capaldi’s behaviour reminded me of those Gareth Roberts scripts which launch Doctor Who into full-on pantomime. The Unicorn and the Wasp, The Lodger and The Caretaker differ from Knock Knock in that they are focused on the ridiculousness of Doctor Who with threats ranging from background to completely forgettable. Comparing Capaldi’s performance in The Caretaker it does please me that Doctor Twelve has left his bullying days in the past, his treatment of Danny Pink in those episodes verging on vile at times. His current personality combines elements of the dotty grandfather with the personalities of those posturing students who just want to belong. His is a cocktail of young and old much like the Matt Smith Doctor and yet it feels fresh. I like the imagery of this Doctor’s development. His first series revolved loosely around Clara’s workplace of Coal Hill School, High School. His second series saw him take a series of adventures throughout a wide array of landscapes and planets, Gap year (he even took up playing the guitar moodily in his room). And in this series he lectures at Bristol University, University. We’ve seen this Doctor go through an identity crisis in series 8, break up with his first codependent companion (almost analogous for girlfriend) and now advance into adulthood. Capaldi’s time, by coincidence or by design has been a coming of age story. How relevant for a Doctor at the beginning of his new regeneration cycle.

I do miss the moody guitar, though.

The problems with the episode are shared with the other episodes in this series but they matter more to me here because the whole thing  failed to grab me. Perhaps because Doctor Who is in it’s tenth season, it’s twelfth year since its revival, this season feels a bit like a “Best of Hits” CD that a band might release after their tenth year together. On the one hand all of the wheat has been picked for you and only the strongest elements of their work remain but on the other you rather miss the odd little track which captivated you while listening to their earlier albums. Honey Pie doesn’t appear in The Beatles’ Blue album but it’s one of the highlights of the White. It’s a bizarre song, experimental and not for everyone but then, it’s that it’s charm? It’s an idiosyncrasy. This series has been filled with excellent episodes but the beats have been familiar. This episode, rather than having familiar beats is more superficially familiar to me. It feels like a retread. We saw wooden people in The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe, we heard knocking in Midnight, we saw an old haunted house in Hide, we experienced a science fiction fairy-tale and spirits of wood (dryads) in In the Forest of the Night and we saw a load of random stuff happening before everything was explained in a single room by the Doctor for ten minutes in Time Heist. Repeating ideas is not a problem for me as long as those ideas are handled well, if they say something new or experiment with them like variations on a theme but I’m not sure that Knock Knock holds together particularly well as a story.

What an episode like this needs is one central concept for all of the characters and scares to revolve around. Smile had simple emotions vs complex emotions. Hide had the concept of a love story being disguised as a ghost story. The Girl Who Waited had the notion of devotion between two people at it’s core. Knock Knock is messy in this way. I don’t know where the story comes from, what it's core concept is meant to be. I understand that the plot is an attempt to “Make the ordinary scary” which is fair enough, it’s a classic Doctor Who writer’s trope but the central gimmick of “Monster under the bed” (Listen/ Girl in the Fireplace) “Mimicking” (Midnight) “Plastic straws” (Smith and Jones) needs to connect to something more meaningful and emotional. I simply don’t see his working. I don’t understand the logical connection between real life thing (creaking wood and knocking), alien (alien woodlice who eat people) , way to fight the aliens’ effects (high pitched sounds) and emotional core of the episode (oedipal relationship between damaged son and sick mother.) I can imagine children staying in a big, old house on holiday and being spooked when they see a woodlouse sneak out of a crack in the wall or see the rings in the wood panelling and imagine their faces being sucked into it but I think that as a story, Bartlett needed to have more glue to hold together the components of his episode. Without it it’s not a story, it’s just things happening.

All of this said, I really don’t think it’s a bad episode just a flawed one. It is held together by a lot of good ideas - even the repeated ideas are improvements on their predecessors. I like the episode more than I like Forest of the Night, Hide and Widow. It’s stronger in terms of pure entertainment. It’s funnier, the idea of a human woman who has been preserved as wood is a more nuanced idea than The Doctor just meeting some people who are made of wood who proceed to do nothing. Also, the guest star David Suchet is, obviously a very strong actor. His performance is good because it clearly represents one consistent character who contains within him stark contrasts, kindness and anger, the innocence of a child and the drive of a self-righteous killer. During my first watch I felt the twist that swapped the parent/ child roles between himself and Eliza was just peculiar because it didn’t have much significance on the plot. The second time I enjoyed it more because I saw how it shone a completely new light upon the character. The revelation makes him all the more sinister, taking him from a selfish killer to man whose oedipal dedication to his mother has preserved him in time as the Dryad’s witchcraft has preserved her. They are both sick. His house with its outdated power-cables is like his mind which doesn’t recognise the prime minister of the present day. His pale skin and awkwardly formal dialogue make him stick in the mind far longer than the alien woodlice will.

Overall, I’m sorry that this episode didn’t do so much for me as I recognise a great deal of inspired story telling and interesting ideas going on here. Perhaps I just have a little Doctor Who fatigue which would be a real shame. Lets hope Oxygen can revive me.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2.

Guardians of the Galaxy: Bigger, Longer and Uncut is the latest offering from the Marvel Movie production line and it is up against a lot in its quest to engage audiences. For one thing the Marvel Opus has rarely succeeded in providing sequels that deliver on the promise of their predecessors. Thor: The Dark World, Iron Man 2 and Avengers: Age of Ultron all fall towards the bottom end of the WhatCulture-esque ranking lists of the internet. Captain America: The Winter Soldier fortunately bucked the trend being one of the most interesting Marvel movies but this is because the first Captain America movie The First Avenger acted more as a prequel to the character’s adventures whilst Winter Soldier introduced the audience to his place in the modern world. It was surprising and rewrote the pattern established in the first movie.

Perhaps this is the biggest problem with Marvel sequels, more often than not they aim to do the same, but bigger! Thor featured an alien hopping between planets. Half of the story was set on earth and half in Asgard. Thor The Dark World featured an alien hopping between hundreds of planets, fighting an enemy who was trying to manipulate a phenomenon that tears holes in the universe that could take him anywhere! He hops between scores of planets. The Avengers sequel introduced MORE Avengers and they went to MORE countries. Iron Man 2 Featured ANOTHER business rival with ANOTHER mechanical battle suit. It’s a time honoured tradition in Hollywood to repeat cinematic successes by literally repeating the films that were successful.

Guardians 2 follows this pattern of “same but bigger” and yet it offers something more, meaningful development of our characters. It is hard to say if this film will remain in the memory for much longer than some of the previous Marvel-fares. A sad effect of much current cinema is that the writers and directors have gotten accomplished at packaging their stories in compelling, engaging packages but are less accomplished at delivering on the promise of those films. Part of the reason that Marvel’s successful films work is that they focus on simple yet imaginative stories with meaningful, emotional cores. They aren’t built on promises or hollow mysteries, they are built on relationships between bizarre imaginative characters and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2. is one example that I would tentatively place into that category. The film is, like all Marvel offerings big, flashy, fun and filled with jokes and so the immediate effect for the audience in the cinema is a great experience but unlike some others there’s an emotional journey for the characters. This is the reason that I believe it will rise above its competitors in the future public consciousness.

The film was also battling against the legacy of its predecessor. The Hollywood landscape has been permanently changed by the original Guardians film. Films like Suicide Squad directly attempted to repeat its success by being a film about a group of anti-heroes, sound-tracked by a jukebox playlist. Trailers from Star Trek Beyond to Justice League have attempted to portray their films as being light hearted good-times by including montages of their action to retro rock classics. Even Logan and the trailer for the new Pirates of the Carribean film use unexpected songs in their trailers, clearly emulating the most superficial aspects of the Guardians formula. The original Guardians was successful because it was so surprising. It was a film about renegades and misfits which undercut its dramatic beats with cathartic jokes and a rebellious attitude. The songs were only the tip of that. It would be difficult for director/ writer James Gunn to repeat the intrigue and freshness when he had already laid out his stall, bold and bright, for the first movie. This worry was prominent in my mind for the first half of the film.

Guardians 2 begins with a very similar scene to opening scene of the first movie which introduced our hero, Star Lord investigating an Indiana Jones style temple whilst dancing to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love. This film begins with an extended dance scene featuring the newly reborn Baby Groot dancing along to The Electric Light Orchestra’s Mr Blue Sky as the Guardians battle a terrifying squid monster in the background. This is a good scene-setter for it once again introduces all of the ingredients of the Guardians formula. Music, Imagination, Weirdness, Characters, Jokes, Action and, unfortunately, a new ingredient for the sequel, length as this dance sequence features almost the entirety of this 5 minute song. Throughout the dance/ fight sequence one’s mind has plenty of time to wander over certain topics. It starts at, “this is wonderful, will all of this fight scene be in the background? That’s quite funny.” It heads towards “This might be getting a little too long, I hope no-one else in the audience is getting bored because it’s not boring me but it could be boring someone else.” And ends up on, “I suppose that many films have opening credits but none are quite as entertaining as this, so it's OK? Oh look, Drax is saying something funny.” The rest of the film plays out a bit like this, never boring but also not nearly so tightly paced as the first film. It's never painful but you will sometimes worry that you might lose interest if the director doesn’t play his cards right. Fortunately Gunn does play his cards right. There are no real missteps in the film but there are many scenes which are wonderful and funny but just a fraction of a second away from being stretched out too long.

Guardians 2 is, much like the first film, constructed from three intertwined stories or conflicts, woven together in interesting ways. In the first film three forces of Ronin the Accuser/ Thanos; the space “ravagers” led by Michael Rooker’s Yondu; and the Xandarian Nova Corps each pursue the Guardians for various reasons and come into conflict in interesting ways. This film too contains three plot strands/ antagonistic forces; Yondu’s space ravagers have a sizable plot dedicated to them this time round; a society of golden angelic creatures are also involved whilst Kurt Russel appears as Star Lord’s father, Ego. Watching each of these forces push and pull our heroes, crossing over and coming into conflict is part of Gunn’s brilliance. The plot is like a science experiment which begins controlled but becomes more and more chaotic as more elements are introduced. Watching the likes of Chris Pratt’s glib but soft Star Lord and the ludicrous Rocket Raccoon cause and escape from the chaos is quite a ride.

In the first film Gunn brought his characters together emotionally by for each of them a tragic story from their past which were all revealed to the audience steadily throughout the film. What makes someone a member of the Guardians’ family is a tough exterior, a proclivity for violence and a defining moment of tragedy which set them apart from the rest of the Universe. Gunn continues this tradition, introducing three new technical Guardians to the roster. Nebula, played by Karen Gillan is the foster sister of Gamora who has been similarly damaged by their “father” Thanos, the overarching Marvel bad guy. Her interaction with Gamora gives both of the characters more emotional depths and reasons for the audience to connect with them. They add to the series’ heart and underlying theme of “family” and in spite of her fairly limited time on screen it gives Gamora a satisfying story arc which ties in to the overall film nicely.

The new character Mantis probably came from someone in the production mentioning that there should possibly be a few more female characters in the Marvel filmography. The oestrogen infusion is probably quite a good decision even though Mantis is without a doubt the least important of the heroes in the film. Her presence is still important, however as she plays off the Drax character offering an engaging counterpoint to him. Drax was perhaps the least textured of the characters in the first film. His “thing” was that he was overly literal and his emotional baggage was that he had lost his wife and daughter. It was enough for that film but he needed to develop to justify his place in the lineup. Wrestler Dave Bautista earns his place on the list of WWE professionals who make surprisingly wonderful actors. Drax is simple as a character. He says what he is thinking and isn’t overly emotive unless the scene involves him laughing uproariously which appears to be his new favourite pass time. Mantis is powered with empathy. She can feel and manipulate other people’s emotions which brings to the screen a lot of the hidden depths of Drax. There is a beautiful scene where the two sit together outside Ego’s palace Mantis barely able to contain the grief that Drax feels over the tragedies of his past and Drax as stone-faced as ever.

Such moments where two unexpected characters interact in new interesting ways are sprinkled throughout the film. Mantis and Drax, Rocket and Yondu, Everyone and Baby Groot. Such moments help to progress the characters into interesting new places, building them and changing them without betraying them, and all of this is written within the confines of a big, “dumb” space blockbuster.

Perhaps the character who undergoes the most development, becoming the unexpected star of the show is Michael Rooker’s Yondu. The character is responsible for perhaps the most memorable action scene at the midpoint of the film when he escapes hoards of villains with nothing but an arrow and a talking raccoon to help him. Yondu played a fairly small role in the first film. He never quite fulfilled his potential even though he was responsible for the memorable battle tactic of controlling an arrow with a whistle. Here he is brought into contrast with Rocket and his relationship with Star Lord is examined under a little more light. In between these two, perhaps the most important Guardians, he is given depth and contrast. The worst of him is reflected in Rocket, the two of them feel immense resentment over the way that life has treated them and project a lot of bluster to cover up their pain. We also get to see a great deal of his hidden affection for Chris Pratt’s character which was only hinted at in the previous film.

Fathers and sons seem to be the focus of this movie as the coming together of a “new age”, a “space age” family was the focus of the first. (I imagine that the third film will focus on the notion of legacy when it comes out.) One of the biggest cliff hangers from the first movie was the question of Peter Quill’s heritage. Human-Plus, a hybrid but who was the father? Kurt Russell is a perfect choice to represent the answer to this question. Reminiscent of Sean Connery being cast to play the father of Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones films, it makes sense that the all-American anti-hero Russel should be hired to play Chris Pratt’s father, who is in many ways his Hollywood predecessor. The two interact well, giving Pratt a chance to show off that vulnerable, insecurity that he does so well to contrast his cocky abrasive characters.

When we take Russell’s participation into consideration we come to see what makes the Marvel movies which work, work. It’s all about story. The previous Marvel sequel to outstrip its predecessor was Captain America The Winter Soldier which did so because it had something to say about the state of the world today. It had strong themes of trust and friendship and that beating heart which was the troubled relationship between the Captain and his childhood friend Bucky. This film also has a story to tell about fathers and sons and (to a lesser extent) sisters and it uses it to forward the characters of Rocket, Groot, Gamora, Drax and Star Lord whilst introducing Mantis, Nebula and Yondu in new lights. The roles are changed and expanded and the imagination is rife. It’s a thoroughly satisfying movie. Guardians of the Galaxy looks set to be the most solid, consistent and dependable series that Marvel has to offer.