Doctor Who: Big Finish's Jubilee

Big Finish Audio are a company that do audio-dramas, most noticeably Doctor Who audio dramas. They are responsible for keeping many of the older Doctors adventuring away, long after their on-screen incarnations died - and I mean a long time, what with all of them still going strong. The actors from the show are retained, with the former Doctors reprising their roles, and this, more than anything, is what makes the adventures feel like true additions to the Who mythos. Jubilee sees Colin Baker's 6th incarnation of The Doctor take on the daleks again, same old story, right?

In the first series of New Who, one of the stand out stories was a little gem called Dalek. Dalek, written by the writer of Jubilee Robert Shearman, was actually a screen adaptation of the audio play. And Dalek was no typical Doctor vs daleks story and, as it was to turn out, it was a bit of a shadow of it's source material.

The 6th and his companion Evelyn land in London, as they have done so many times. But something's amiss. Things don't, exactly, make sense. This is Edwardian London - they are quickly able to figure out exactly where they are. But their surroundings are not quite...right. Also the TARDIS decides it is going to pop off on a mission of it's own, which, aside from a little delirium fuelled mumbling, he does not seem to worried about.

It is an insane and brutal world that they have entered. Daleks are the mascot of the world, their image becoming a powerful tool of merchandisation. There are rules about women and language, and a horrible disdain for the lesser parts of the empire, like the US. The President of the English Empire is a tyrant and they have a prisoner, a dangerous prisoner, that they torture regularly.

The characters and the world they exist possess an insanity of Gormenghastian intensity, but never lose at the expense of depth. Both the President and his wife are characters that continue to surprise and challenge audience's expectations, while the soldiers Faro and, surprisingly, Lam have their own part to play in the drama that fleshes them out as more interesting people. Evelyn, a companion I have to confess ignorance of, was heavily involved here, more so than the Doctor. She serves, more than anyone else, as our main character in this play.

Jubilee is packed with ideas. There is horror here, but there also twists of dark comedy. Thematically, the story is about many things, about obedience and power and history, about the futility of hatred. Through the setting and characters, Shearman is able to convey a plethora of ideas, all explored but never answered, As well as themes, it is also a lot of great science fiction ideas, and stands as probably most complicated and interesting alternate universe Doctor Who story I have come across.

Shearman is always one step ahead - the story always has at least one card up it's sleeve, and one hell of a poker face. There are twists hidden everywhere, and surprises hidden in places where they really shouldn't be. It's a rare feat of storytelling, to be so far ahead of the audience, constantly springing surprises that makes sense in context and feel like they have real weight to them.

Jubilee is superb, shocking, perversely funny and rich with ideas hidden beneath the surface. It's a great story, and possibly one of the biggest influence of RTD's new Who (as well as Dalek, Journey's End also shows influence from Jubilee). Not given it a listen? You're missing out.

Comic Relief: What Pacific Rim does right

Wacky, wise-cracking sidekicks are dangerous things. Loud, obnoxious and full of jokes that are entirely predictable. We don't care about them as characters and in turn the humour is, more often than not, extremely poor. Even when the comedy somewhat works, they can find themselves becoming audience hate figures. Transformers is perhaps the most egregious example of this, wherein pretty much the entire non-robot cast are turned into cartoonishly obnoxious caricatures.

In Pacific Rim, a movie I'm sure I'll review soon, we are introduced to a pair of feuding scientists, Newton and Hermann - Newton, specifically, becomes our designated comic relief. They are loud and obnoxious, they barely give their shtick a rest when they are on screen and their characters are built around stereotypes and cliches. They have all the ingredients of being non-stop annoyances.

And yet they aren't. Despite being in many ways definition of the tropes exemplified by annoying comic relief, they aren't annoying and both end up sympathetic. Why?

They have distinct skills

Newton and Hermann aren't a pair of wacky everymen who have fallen haphazardly in over their heads - they are two professionals. There's a reason they work for the Jaeger program: they offer something specific that the others do not. Without them, the plot cannot actually continue - they serve roles which make them pivotal characters in the story.

They are proactive

As the major character of the two, this rests mainly on Newton's shoulders. Newton's actions throughout the movie are useful and self-driven. We see below a gibbering exterior is a resourceful and actually very brave character. He goes against authority and risks his life, then travels into the heart of Hong Kong in order to track down a dangerous criminal - Hannibal Chau.

Their relationship

Threatens to be one note but, really, it's very far from that. There's a fine balance struck between Newton and Hermann of rivalry and respect. They are simultaneously enemies and friends - their relationship is nuanced, carrying both elements of conflict and fondness to them. It also develops as the story goes along, making them engaging as characters in their own right.

*

Essentially it all comes down to being good characters and active members of the plot - if the audience understands their position in the narrative beyond dumb laughs, it makes them engaging to the audience. Newton and Hermann are great examples of this.

Doctor Who - Deep Breath

Capaldi cometh - a new show, a new direction. What to make of his long awaited debut?

"Dinosaur's aren't that big, I've seen the bones."

Vastra and co' emerge onto the banks of the Themes, among a crowd of confused onlookers. There's a dinosaur in town and, rather understandably, the denizens of Victorian London are rather taken by this sight. The dinosaur spits out of the TARDIS, Vastra seals off the area and they go down to check it out.

Our first scene where we get acquainted to the new doctor is something of an uneven one to be honest - it's not clear whether or not the tyrannosaurus should be a threat and there was a sense of just being unsure. We were kind of too familiar and not really being introduced to Capaldi, but also kind of being introduced. The opening of the episode started as a storm of ambivalence - peppered with great dialogue and genuinely funny lines to be fair.

I found this to be one of the main things I took away from the early stages of the episode. The episode didn't really know where it was going, and it struck an uneasy balance between being too familiar and not familiar enough. It was nicely directed, and the characters all struck an easy rapoir with each other, but for a while the episode just meandered, feeling safe enough to lean on clever banter and too-obvious thematic statements.

"Give me your coat."

Then the dinosaur burns and the Doctor disappeared into the Themes, searching for the killer. When he next pops up, he's looking rather raggedy and chatting to a nearby homeless person, his manner half-awake and confused.

This, really, is our time alone with The Doctor. His mad ramblings, his gargoyle-countenance. He comes across lost but also more than a little bit rough around the edges. His aggressive demands that the homeless man hand over his coat managed to be genuinely disturbing, helped in no small part by just how well Capaldi plays threatening.

Throughout the episode his characterisation is adeptly handled, addled by post-regeneration confusion and a genuine sense that this new Doctor is untrustworthy. He's played close enough to the Doctor we all know to allow for continuity, but with enough to have us asking questions. Speaking of which...

Continuity

Post-Tennant regeneration, there was a strong backlash from many of Tennant's most loyal fans. One of the main criticisms I heard was that the change was just too jarring. Everything was new - new tone, new TARDIS, new assistant, new Doctor. It was too much, some argued.

The continuity between the latter half of series seven and this episode makes it seem as if they have taken these particular criticisms on board. The tone is closer and the new TARDIS is only slightly different. We get an old baddy, in slightly new form, Vastra and co. and, of course, the same companion from Smith's latter years.

Clara

One of the more interesting decisions made in the episode was the decision to make it more about Clara than it really was about The Doctor. The main thrust of the episode was Clara's journey. Her learning to trust the Doctor and getting used to his new appearance, as well as proving her own worth as a companion.

Her attempts to adjust to the new Doctor do two things as well as being a natural character arc for a companion who has witnessed a regeneration. It serves to resolve the half-baked probably-misdirection that was Clara and Eleven's will-they-or-won't-they - the answer being, rather obviously, they won't.

The other, and more interesting strand, was the way that the whole arc seemed to function as a real message to those fangirls who were less than kind about the appearance of Capaldi. In this, Clara's conversation with Vastra and her later conversation on the phone with an old friend serve to be important. This is still the same Doctor, this is still the same sense of adventure, and if that isn't enough then you weren't really a fan in the first place is the message.

The attempts to justify Clara as a companion in her own right often went over the show line, straight into tell, and as such this episode worked more as a mission statement for how Moff is going to try and establish Clara as a better companion rather than an actual showcase for why she is a better companion than we've seen so far (at least, this iteration of her). Still, the episode improved as it went on, and this followed that trend - by the climax, it look as if the earlier mission statement was being followed up on.

Conclusion

The directing was very nice, although faltered during action scenes, and the script was fantastically full of ideas. Although flawed, this episode really picks up speed later on. When the antagonist becomes a major player, suddenly everything gets much more purposeful and feels a lot more engaging. The cleverness, the humour, the characterisation all really slots into place and works. By the end, it feels like we've really been given a proper introduction, as well as seen a very good episode.

Film review - The World's End

"We're here," announces erstwhile protagonist Gary King, "to get annihilated."

Indeed.

The World's End is the finale to Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's Cornetto trilogy, three films connected by themes and motifs rather than plot and characters - a riff of sorts on the Three Colours Trilogy. In it we once again see Pegg and Frost placed in a new genre mash-up: this time, we're somewhere between a sci-fi and The Hangover bro-comedy of recent years.

Gary King is getting old - not that he seems to know it. He's out to convince his four childhood friends to come back to their childhood home and finish a pub crawl that they had attempted when they were younger. There's something irresistibly British about the whole trilogy, and the omnipresence of pubs in all three narratives is perhaps the most British thing about it. It's a cultural twist on The Hangover - the pub crawl. Whilst trawling round the pubs, the once-upon-a-time highschool friends (now middle-aged) discover that all is not as it once was back home.

As is increasingly the case with director Edgar Wright's films, there's a lot buried within the comedy here. Laughs and joke are hidden within each shot, and rarely is a word uttered which eschews comedic intentions, but when you look at film beyond it's comedic wrapping the film is actually an alien invasion movie. More so than either Hot Fuzz of Shaun of the Dead, really, The World's End needs to be enjoyed as the genre movie it is, rather than an outright comedy. It's funny, but the comedy feels like it serves the greater story, whereas in Hot Fuzz the opposite was true.

That's highly arguable of course - again, increasingly in Wright's films, everything is interlocked. The story is wrapped up tightly in the plot and characters and themes and laughs. The central concept works both as an absurd punchline and a genuinely interesting reflection of humanity's relationship with technology. That's the more subtle of the two central themes - as a sci-fi film, The World's End continues sci-fi's tradition of asking questions.

The more obvious theme is the one which is more personally important to Gary King - growing up and nostalgia. King's not so much going through a coming of age than attempting to go backwards through that process - trying to recapture a youth he's never properly left behind.

Most people's main problem with the film is likely to be the ending; much like Hot Fuzz, the entire film builds to a big shift in plot and tone that functions as a punchline. Unlike Hot Fuzz, however, the movie isn't all that great at communicating that this is meant to be a punchline - partly because the core of the film is so serious and partly because the tone shift is just a bit confusing. Personally I liked it, but it is also fair to say that it really could have been done better.

Otherwise The World's End is a thoughtful, funny, complex and at times genuinely emotional film full of secrets and imagination. Well worth a look.

Things I want to like - RWBY, Pt. 1

(Thar be spoilers ahead)

You remember way back when, those halcyon days of 2013? During that sun-shy Scottish summer the twin shadows of Doctor Who series 7 and Bioshock Infinite loomed over all. These were the two things I talked most excitedly to friends about, these were the two things I sought out information about first and foremost. They would be, I was convinced, the two big highlights of the rest of the year.

Expectations

And then a friend linked me this:

The animation! The music! Those fluid fight scenes! That atmosphere, and the subtle sense of character!

I caught the final of four trailers, all advertising the (at the time) soon-to-be-released anime style web series RWBY helmed by Monty Oum of Dead Fantasy fame. The fantastically animated trailers showed four female protagonists, battling all sort of enemies – from werewolves, to robots, to a haunted suit of armour and (most horrifying of all) twins. Each was like a music video, heavily stylised and communicating character and plot with barely a word spoken.

It was that last point that really hooked me in, as cool and exciting as the fight scenes were: this was storytelling through style and action. This was both epic and subtle at the same time. It’s on these grounds the series was sold to me.

There was one note of caution, amongst the awesome. Trailer four, “Yellow”, has a fair chunk of dialogue in it. Not only was the voice acting questionable, but much of the dialogue was less than encouraging. The silliness of the dialogue seemed ill-judged and comedic notes were missed with aplomb. They embraced a cheesiness that seemed out of place, and all the subtlety was trampled to the ground. Still, it was just the trailers, they had time to refine and improve both dialogue and voice acting, right?

(For the record, since I’m not going to talk about it later, I actually overall like the voice acting in RWBY. There are a few performances that I haven’t really been sold on, but that’s likely to happen with any series.)

Ruby and Torchwick and Hunters

Because the trailers got by through nods and winks, we had little in the way of real clues as to what the series would be about. That meant that episode one would be our first cohesive look at the main plot and world.

Episode one sees us interrupting a burglary – our villain, Torchwick, and his henchmen raiding a shop containing magical powder. The robbery is interrupted, however by Ruby, who proceeds to single-handedly defeat the villain and all of his henchmen. He flees into an airship, and turns it’s weapons upon Ruby – Ruby, however, is saved by a Huntress named Glynda. After Torchwick flees in his airship, aided by a mysterious woman himself, Ruby is persuaded to join the school Beacon Academy and become a Huntress herself.

In my eyes there are three big crimes that episode one commits:

1.       Ruby starts out awesome. She’s already got her massive scythe/rifle, is already good enough to beat the first primary antagonist and his henchmen. Compelling character arcs start out with characters who are flawed and have the characters grow as they overcome said flaw. Ruby’s goal is to become a Huntress, but because she immediately wins against the villain and the gap between her and Glynda isn’t meaningfully established it feels like she’s already ready to accomplish that goal. Compare it to the observations Campbell makes about the monomyth, about how it mostly revolves around people facing powers way greater than their own – in comparison, it seems like Ruby is facing powers slightly greater than her own at best. The barrier to success is way too low.

o   Later on, in episode 3, Ruby reveals she has made her own weapon. So why is the series starting after this has happened? Ruby would be far more compelling a character, and her growth would be far better, if it was twinned with the making of the scythe rifle thingie. Showing us the making of the weapon would also be a good way of addressing point 3 too.

o   During her conflict with Weiss, the writers set-up Weiss’s legitimate problem with Ruby as having an impetuous streak – a trait which never holds proper weight because it isn’t really established outside of that particular mini-arc. As such it just seems like an idiosyncrasy in their dynamic, rather than a fully realised character trait.

o   In episode 13, the turning point of Jaune’s own particularly character arc is when Ruby gives him a bit of a pep talk. In this talk she shows a great amount of maturity, charisma and understanding. None of it feels particularly earned either – if anything, it lends her a bit of a broken feel as a character.

So she’s great at fighting, has made her own weapon, is wise and a great leader. Part of why we like characters is watching them overcome barriers, struggle past the things that stand in the way between them and their goal. What barriers does she have to overcome? What are her weaknesses? If she has any, the show isn’t interested in establishing them.

2.       Torchwick isn’t a threatening presence. His design might be all Clockwork Orange-y, but it’s still goofy – this wouldn’t be a problem if he was shown to be a real genuine threat. That’s true as well of his sort of convivial nature; sure, he’s arrogant, but not particularly villainous. These two things, however, become real problems when combined with the fact that he is never established as a genuine threat. First time we see him, Ruby beats his henchmen then he runs away. This is the first real lesson we learn about our villain: he’s already not a match for our protagonist. As such his status as a primary antagonist removes any overarching sense of threat from proceedings. He’s a placeholder for better villains later on.

3.       The world is too ill-defined for us to get a real sense of what any of it means. We’re told that Hunters and Huntresses are a big deal by Ruby, but we never see it. How common are they? Can any old mook become a Hunter? If not, why is there a specialised Dust shops just sitting in a town high street? Is the ability to fight the Grimm still such a big deal in society? The world feels thin and insubstantial, and we never get a good feel for the society of RWBY. As such it immediately loses most of its mystique, and when Ruby geeks out at the Huntress showing up we don’t geek out with her because of this. Lots and lots of tell, little in the way of show.

Novel Review - Dr Who: Ten Little Aliens

This isn't, exactly, a Dr Who book.

Meet Haunt, Shade and co. Space marines. The book starts very much as a military space opera, as we follow ten soldiers on a training mission to a hollowed out moon. Soon their paths cross with the first Doctor and his two companions, Polly and Ben, who have also somehow found their onto the space rock. What follows is deeply routed in the personalities and history and the society they come from.

Not to say that the Doctor and his companions are unjustified additions here. In fact, Cole hands the two companions their regular role in adventures - proving (comparatively) more familiar eyes through which to view the adventure. There's plenty interesting going on with the first too, as his inevitable regeneration trudges closer. It's all very cleverly done, but not particularly natural.

The good news, however, is this is really the only major flaw in the story; and in a story that tries to do so many things, this is perhaps little less than miraculous.

It's a meticulously constructed - having not read And Then There Was None I'm not able to comment on it's similarity to it - novel in all respects. Cole takes his time to build up the setting into an atmospheric and evocative, letting us get to know the characters whilst cranking up the atmosphere. Plot and characterisation happens in a very careful and deliberate fashion, information drip fed to us.

It's a real genre buster this one: a military sci-fi story that dips it's toes quickly into other ponds. There is the obvious Alien similarities, and the story is a slowly unfolding mystery. Traces of haunted house can be detected under everything, and some of the concepts that happen later belong more to cyberpunk than anything else. It's a big and extremely careful constructed thing that at times becomes a little too much for it's own good. That's even before you consider the "choose your own adventure" section of the book.

When such a tantalizing mystery is set-up, the author always leaves themselves with the a potential problem: can the answer to the mystery match the mystery itself? In this case, luckily, the answer is a resounding yes. The plot threads come together gratifyingly well, and Cole is dab hand when it come to misdirection.

Ten Little Aliens has plenty of flaws, there's no doubt. But it's an imaginative, creative and complex story with a tight plot and some great characterisation. Cole's prose is well paced and atmospheric, and the narrative voice remains consistent whilst varying enough to give a good feel of each differing character. Ten Little Aliens may do some wrong, but it does far, far more right.

Audio Drama Review - Dr Who: Scherzo

The Beatles once sang: All you need is love. The Doctor, in Scherzo, is very quick to disagree with this conclusion.

Meet the 8th Doctor, Paul McGann, and his audio-only companion Charley. They've had a pretty rough time as of late and there's a lot of raw emotion hanging in the air between. Self-sacrificing and declarations of love have been strewn over the past few adventures, and now they find themselves stranded together in an unknown and scary new universe.

The Doctor, of course, seems to be finding this whole emotional thing a bit difficult. Since Colin Baker's Doctor, really, the Time Lord has been through a zigzagging a rather odd emotional path. Ostensensibly, the path Big Finish appear to be taking with the 8th looks to be laying the groundwork for the angsty and scarred 9th, and in this audio drama he edges uncomfortably close to outright dislikeable. There's something terrifying about the performance, and the way he treats his companion, pushing and pulling her mentally and emotionally. At times he even seems to get a vindictive sense of pleasure from this.

Between the writing, directing and sound engineering this story is a marvel. For a location that isn't really a location, the setting itself is endowed with so much character and atmosphere. It really seems to reflection the purgatorial fear and pain that the characters are going through, and a creepy array of sounds paints a full picture, paradoxically, of this empty place.

This is a psychological horror and a bottle episode, and when it comes to intensity and fear this story makes Midnight look rather tame. The sense of loss and pain amplifies the terrifying location and psychological horror that the two are confronted with; the "monster of the week" is ambiguous and strange enough to worm it's way into your mind.

Despite the emotionally intensive nature of the story, it is a low-key affair. Little happens, apart from a difficult conversation between the Doctor and Charley, whilst they go for a walk. To turn that into an intense, horrifying, original and extremely emotional experience is a testament to the skills of those involved.