Doctor Who "The Bells of Saint John"
It’s been a busy few days, what with my cousin (who I haven’t seen since he was a baby and who is now in his early twenties) visiting on his big OE from England, along with a few of his friends. So we were housing them for a couple of nights and showing them the sights of our totally ruined city of Christchurch. They were all really nice guys, though I have to say - it’s nice to get the house to myself again.
That said, their presence meant that I missed all but the final ten minutes of the latest Once Upon a Time episode, so I’ll hold off on my usual review for it this week and hopefully track it down on-line so I can comment on it along with the next episode.
I have however (as you can no doubt tell by the title) seen The Bells of St John, thanks to my sister’s boyfriend and his handy downloading skills. It actually airs for real next week on New Zealand television, which is typical. The reason half my reviews are late isn’t just because of RL issues, but because it takes so damn long for anything to reach our shores. I was flipping channels last night, when what should I come across but a brand new, never-before-aired episode of Merlin. And guess what episode it was. The Tears of Uther Pendragon Part 1. That’s right, New Zealand has finally made it to series THREE.
But on with the Doctor Who review...
In the interests of keeping things both simple and different, I’ll break this down into eleven points; the eight things I liked, and the three things that I didn’t.
1. Jenna Louise Coleman as Clara.
In Moffat’s mind, there’s a good chance that Clara is considered more of a plot-point than a three-dimensional character in her own right, but Jenna Louise Coleman is funny, charming and as cute as a button, managing to take the character, link it to her previous incarnations as Oswin Oswald (Dalek) and Clara Oswald (Victorian) and make her not only someone that I want to find out more about, but spend more time with.
There have been some complaints about Clara’s intense ignorance about computers; that a twenty-something young woman in the 21st century would not be that obtuse about things like WiFi and Twitter. Well...heh...actually - I’m not that far behind her. Uploading all that computer data into her head was a total narrative cheat, and I felt that she took the existence of aliens and time-travel and the process of being uploaded into the internet a bit too much in her stride, but Jenna Louie Coleman kept her grounded and realistic.
And I love her hair; that deep dark glossy chestnut brown. Mmm.
2. The Puzzle-Box Plot
If there’s one thing Moffat loves, it’s his twisty-turny plots that introduce a lot of seemingly irrelevant details which slide together into a cohesive whole by the end credits. Well, in theory. Some of the time he ends up with an incoherent mess (the greater part of series six) but when he’s at the top of his game he can churn out ingenious storylines.
Whereas RTD wrote mythic arcs, then Moffat constructs puzzle-boxes, which means there are a lot of clues and hints strewn throughout this episode - some of which are partially resolved by the end, others which will presumably be picked up at a later point. I’ve been burnt by Morrat before when it comes to this sort of thing (like I said, series six), but hey - I’m on board for the mystery that is Clara. Which brings me too...
3. Rules and Clues
Any story that constructs a mystery has to be filled to the brim with rules and clues as to what’s really going on, giving the audience the opportunity to solve the mystery along with the characters. Of course, another challenge is separating the legitimate clues from the red herrings and the in-jokes. As it is, the episode presents a swathe of possible clues as to Clara’s true identity.
There was a series of echoes throughout the story that recalled the Doctor’s past encounters with Clara; just as Clara I and Clara II were fond of soufflés, Clara III shares an occupation with Clara II; that of a governess/nanny. Furthermore, the idea of a mind being trapped inside the internet is also reminiscent of Oswin’s entrapment within the Dalek.
As well as this we have the painting that the Doctor is pondering in the monastery, complete with Clara’s arc words: “run you clever boy and remember.” I’m not entirely sure whether it was implied that the Doctor was responsible for this painting, but I was rather disappointed by the fact that the phrase was explained as a mnemonic that allows Clara to recall the password to the WiFi. Is that all that it really means? Because if so, that’s insanely disappointing. Either it suggests that there’s something much, MUCH more important going on with the internet and that particular password, or it’s just meant to be a random phrase that flicked into her head as she died the first two times.
(Kind of like an inverse of Mel Gibson’s wife in Signs - he thought she was speaking gibberish as she died, when it fact she was giving him an important clue as to how to repel the alien invasion. But let’s not talk about that movie. Or Mel Gibson).
Then there’s the mystery woman in the shop that gave Clara the number to a “helpline” that put her directly in touch with the Doctor. The popular theory seems to be River, which wouldn’t surprise me, but the circumstances that led to such an exchange remain up for grabs.
And what are we meant to think of the inside cover of Clara’s travelling book, in which she’s written a list of her ages but left out numbers 16 and 23? Do they denote missing years? And what’s with the leaf? How is that “the first page”, as Clara described it? Can’t fathom that one just yet.
4. Word Games
On a similar note, Moffat loves to play around with words and their meanings, sneaking in clever tidbits for those paying attention. In this case, I loved that “the bells of St John” pertained to the ringing phone on the side of the Tardis, and the fact that she stumbles to the username of Oswin through her comment: “Clara Oswald for the win - Oswin!”
Then there was her brief conversation with Artie over the book written by Amelia Williams, and her comment: “eleven is the best; you’ll cry your eyes out.” I’m not entirely sure whether that was a throwaway in-joke or a hint at things to come, but a nice touch was the fact that the book looked so old, even though we lost Amy so recently...
The rationale behind the Twitter joke was lame, though.
5. Mrs Kizlet.
Celia Imbrie is always fantastic, and this performance was no exception. She was mightily effective for a one-shot villain, with a lot of clever components to her character design. The tablet that contained a database of everyone in her employ was a great plot, particularly the way in which it allowed her to control their obedience, paranoia, IQ and conscience levels. It’s just a shame more wasn’t done with this particular conceit.
The final reveal of herself reverting back to a little girl was heart-breaking, but on re-watching the episode, there was plenty of foreshadowing as to her inner psyche. There were scenes in which she seemed rather childishly mischievous or nervous, and - much like the Doctor - she enjoys showing off. This was demonstrated perfectly in the café scene, in which she exhibits just what she’s capable of. This was a beautifully crafted scene, with a variety of actors taking on Celia Imbrie’s body language and voice patterns, all with something representing the tablet tucked under their arm.
Which leads me to...
6. Set pieces
There were plenty of great scenes throughout the forty-five minutes, in fact I’d go so far to say that the episode was less than the sum of its parts. So many neat compositions and ideas, including:
The Spoonhead robot basing its appearance on an image taken from Clara’s head; in this case, the illustration on the cover of Artie’s book.
The second conversation that took place between Clara and the Doctor, with Clara peering out that tiny little window and the Doctor tinkering away in the driveway.
The rescue of the plane, with the Tardis transporting from the driveway to the interior of the plane that we’d just seen in the air, with Clara hanging onto her mug of tea throughout the whole thing.
The jump-forward to the next day, allowing the Doctor and Clara to remain reasonably fresh whilst the villains had to come “the long way round” and work throughout the night.
Clara’s plan to hack into the Shard’s web-cameras and cross-check the employees’ pictures against images on Facebook, thus getting a fix on their location was a neat conceit, as was the Doctor hacking into the Spoonhead of himself and use it to upload Mrs Kizlet.
Nice to see Richard E. Grant again. I wasn’t expecting him to turn up again.
That the guy in the suit ended up being a janitor who’d come to fix the toilets.
7. London!
London looked great, and it was nice that the show took the time to include a brief montage of Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Eye of London and other famous landmarks. It all looked beautiful and pristine, and it actually had an impact on the plot when the newly-opened Shard becomes a plot-point. That they took the time to get some sweeping shots of the city was much appreciated, especially since I’ve been recently visited by some real-life Brits. It’s time to start planning my own travels.
8. Matt Smith as the Doctor
Matt Smith is well and truly the Doctor by this stage, and more than ever I can really see him as an old man in a young man’s body; a zany old professor who has stumbled across a delightful puzzle that he wants to solve.
Even better, this is the first time that he’s found himself a new companion that he not only finds intriguing, but that he has to actively (and rather miserably) try to impress. Throughout most of the episode we see the Doctor attempting to make a good impression on Clara, whether it be muttering “monks are not cool” to himself, demonstrating some 70s dance moves as an example of “young people stuff” and setting out flowers and Jammy Dodgers for Clara when she awakens.
It’s an interesting dynamic considering he’s a little unsure around Clara, whilst simultaneously knowing more about her than she does about herself. This is the first time that the Doctor seems to be truly fascinated by one of his companions, not really knowing where to start in puzzling her out and having a quick browse through her belongings whilst she’s asleep in the hunt for clues. That she ultimately postpones going on an adventure with him is another unexpected reaction, suggesting a level of independence and contentment with her own life that the Doctor isn’t used to in his companions.
9. Self-Plagiarism
So, the prologue’s warning “don’t click” was more than a little reminiscent of “don’t blink”, right? And people getting uploaded against their will and saved in a database was rather like The Silence in the Library, correct? And the presence of text from computer/cell-phones displayed across the screen was stylistically rather like techniques used in Sherlock? And really, the whole plot was lifted from The Idiot’s Lantern, in which villains utilize technology in order to entrap humans.
That said, the plot itself was a rather haywire. Though I liked the idea that there are “layers” of evil going on, what with Ms Kizlet having the Great Intelligence as a client who employs her to harvest human minds/souls, it’s unclear exactly how and why so many people were getting uploaded. Perhaps that’s a question for later down the track, but at this point it very much felt like an Excuse Plot. More than that, the villains never truly felt like a real threat; in fact, they were on the defensive for most of the episode.
Which brings us to...
10. Nitpicks
The Spoonheads (or servers) were far too slow. When they uploaded Clara (for the second time) and then Mrs Kizlet, there was plenty of time for each woman to make a dash for it whilst the robot’s head was very, very slowly swivelling around.
What happened to the guy in the prologue?
Victims are snatched up from all over the world, and each and every one of them has the exact same reaction to finding themselves on the internet: “I don’t know where I am.” Was that meant to be a coincidence?
Clara rang up the helpline and actually STAYED ON THE LINE in the time it took for the monk to hear the phone ringing, fetch the Doctor from the monastery and ride all the way back again? Yeesh.
When the Doctor emerges from the Tardis on a motorcycle, he leaves the Tardis door wide open!
When Ms Kizlet uses the woman in the television to speak to the Doctor, wouldn’t people all around London/England be seeing that broadcast?
I’ll admit, I’ve never actually seen a professional hack a computer. But I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t involve jamming your fingers across a keyboard as fast as you can.
11. Drops of Poison
As a survivor of Merlin and its complete inability to write any female characters decently, rendering each and every one of them (bar one, I suppose) either a helpless distressed damsel, an evil wicked monster or a relatively sympathetic but innately treacherous female, I’m fairly blasé about the women in Moffat’s Doctor Who. It’s not as good as RTD’s representation, but at least they’re a. central and b. have agency. I’ve read through some fairly interesting metas about how Clara is being treated as more of a plot-point than a character and that once again Moffat is setting up a woman as “a mystery to be solved” rather than an ordinary human being, all of which has merit as legit criticism, but which I’m not going to participate in at this point. I think Merlin has temporarily beaten by feminist outrage into a state where it just needs to lay low and recuperate for a while.
Though I don’t doubt that Moffat has some women issues (I still bristle when I think of Irene Adler’s final five minutes in A Scandal in Belgravia) I’ve never been particularly fussed about his writing for Amy or River. However, what DOES continue to get my goat are the stupid little “jokes” that Moffat implants in his scripts that feel like drops of poison in the midst of an otherwise perfectly good story. In this case, it was this exchange:
Monk: “An evil spirit?”
Doctor: (with a “not quite, but close” air): A woman.
Monk crosses himself.
I just...I...I’m speechless. How did that awful line get green-lit?
That said, their presence meant that I missed all but the final ten minutes of the latest Once Upon a Time episode, so I’ll hold off on my usual review for it this week and hopefully track it down on-line so I can comment on it along with the next episode.
I have however (as you can no doubt tell by the title) seen The Bells of St John, thanks to my sister’s boyfriend and his handy downloading skills. It actually airs for real next week on New Zealand television, which is typical. The reason half my reviews are late isn’t just because of RL issues, but because it takes so damn long for anything to reach our shores. I was flipping channels last night, when what should I come across but a brand new, never-before-aired episode of Merlin. And guess what episode it was. The Tears of Uther Pendragon Part 1. That’s right, New Zealand has finally made it to series THREE.
But on with the Doctor Who review...
In the interests of keeping things both simple and different, I’ll break this down into eleven points; the eight things I liked, and the three things that I didn’t.
1. Jenna Louise Coleman as Clara.
In Moffat’s mind, there’s a good chance that Clara is considered more of a plot-point than a three-dimensional character in her own right, but Jenna Louise Coleman is funny, charming and as cute as a button, managing to take the character, link it to her previous incarnations as Oswin Oswald (Dalek) and Clara Oswald (Victorian) and make her not only someone that I want to find out more about, but spend more time with.
There have been some complaints about Clara’s intense ignorance about computers; that a twenty-something young woman in the 21st century would not be that obtuse about things like WiFi and Twitter. Well...heh...actually - I’m not that far behind her. Uploading all that computer data into her head was a total narrative cheat, and I felt that she took the existence of aliens and time-travel and the process of being uploaded into the internet a bit too much in her stride, but Jenna Louie Coleman kept her grounded and realistic.
And I love her hair; that deep dark glossy chestnut brown. Mmm.
2. The Puzzle-Box Plot
If there’s one thing Moffat loves, it’s his twisty-turny plots that introduce a lot of seemingly irrelevant details which slide together into a cohesive whole by the end credits. Well, in theory. Some of the time he ends up with an incoherent mess (the greater part of series six) but when he’s at the top of his game he can churn out ingenious storylines.
Whereas RTD wrote mythic arcs, then Moffat constructs puzzle-boxes, which means there are a lot of clues and hints strewn throughout this episode - some of which are partially resolved by the end, others which will presumably be picked up at a later point. I’ve been burnt by Morrat before when it comes to this sort of thing (like I said, series six), but hey - I’m on board for the mystery that is Clara. Which brings me too...
3. Rules and Clues
Any story that constructs a mystery has to be filled to the brim with rules and clues as to what’s really going on, giving the audience the opportunity to solve the mystery along with the characters. Of course, another challenge is separating the legitimate clues from the red herrings and the in-jokes. As it is, the episode presents a swathe of possible clues as to Clara’s true identity.
There was a series of echoes throughout the story that recalled the Doctor’s past encounters with Clara; just as Clara I and Clara II were fond of soufflés, Clara III shares an occupation with Clara II; that of a governess/nanny. Furthermore, the idea of a mind being trapped inside the internet is also reminiscent of Oswin’s entrapment within the Dalek.
As well as this we have the painting that the Doctor is pondering in the monastery, complete with Clara’s arc words: “run you clever boy and remember.” I’m not entirely sure whether it was implied that the Doctor was responsible for this painting, but I was rather disappointed by the fact that the phrase was explained as a mnemonic that allows Clara to recall the password to the WiFi. Is that all that it really means? Because if so, that’s insanely disappointing. Either it suggests that there’s something much, MUCH more important going on with the internet and that particular password, or it’s just meant to be a random phrase that flicked into her head as she died the first two times.
(Kind of like an inverse of Mel Gibson’s wife in Signs - he thought she was speaking gibberish as she died, when it fact she was giving him an important clue as to how to repel the alien invasion. But let’s not talk about that movie. Or Mel Gibson).
Then there’s the mystery woman in the shop that gave Clara the number to a “helpline” that put her directly in touch with the Doctor. The popular theory seems to be River, which wouldn’t surprise me, but the circumstances that led to such an exchange remain up for grabs.
And what are we meant to think of the inside cover of Clara’s travelling book, in which she’s written a list of her ages but left out numbers 16 and 23? Do they denote missing years? And what’s with the leaf? How is that “the first page”, as Clara described it? Can’t fathom that one just yet.
4. Word Games
On a similar note, Moffat loves to play around with words and their meanings, sneaking in clever tidbits for those paying attention. In this case, I loved that “the bells of St John” pertained to the ringing phone on the side of the Tardis, and the fact that she stumbles to the username of Oswin through her comment: “Clara Oswald for the win - Oswin!”
Then there was her brief conversation with Artie over the book written by Amelia Williams, and her comment: “eleven is the best; you’ll cry your eyes out.” I’m not entirely sure whether that was a throwaway in-joke or a hint at things to come, but a nice touch was the fact that the book looked so old, even though we lost Amy so recently...
The rationale behind the Twitter joke was lame, though.
5. Mrs Kizlet.
Celia Imbrie is always fantastic, and this performance was no exception. She was mightily effective for a one-shot villain, with a lot of clever components to her character design. The tablet that contained a database of everyone in her employ was a great plot, particularly the way in which it allowed her to control their obedience, paranoia, IQ and conscience levels. It’s just a shame more wasn’t done with this particular conceit.
The final reveal of herself reverting back to a little girl was heart-breaking, but on re-watching the episode, there was plenty of foreshadowing as to her inner psyche. There were scenes in which she seemed rather childishly mischievous or nervous, and - much like the Doctor - she enjoys showing off. This was demonstrated perfectly in the café scene, in which she exhibits just what she’s capable of. This was a beautifully crafted scene, with a variety of actors taking on Celia Imbrie’s body language and voice patterns, all with something representing the tablet tucked under their arm.
Which leads me to...
6. Set pieces
There were plenty of great scenes throughout the forty-five minutes, in fact I’d go so far to say that the episode was less than the sum of its parts. So many neat compositions and ideas, including:
The Spoonhead robot basing its appearance on an image taken from Clara’s head; in this case, the illustration on the cover of Artie’s book.
The second conversation that took place between Clara and the Doctor, with Clara peering out that tiny little window and the Doctor tinkering away in the driveway.
The rescue of the plane, with the Tardis transporting from the driveway to the interior of the plane that we’d just seen in the air, with Clara hanging onto her mug of tea throughout the whole thing.
The jump-forward to the next day, allowing the Doctor and Clara to remain reasonably fresh whilst the villains had to come “the long way round” and work throughout the night.
Clara’s plan to hack into the Shard’s web-cameras and cross-check the employees’ pictures against images on Facebook, thus getting a fix on their location was a neat conceit, as was the Doctor hacking into the Spoonhead of himself and use it to upload Mrs Kizlet.
Nice to see Richard E. Grant again. I wasn’t expecting him to turn up again.
That the guy in the suit ended up being a janitor who’d come to fix the toilets.
7. London!
London looked great, and it was nice that the show took the time to include a brief montage of Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Eye of London and other famous landmarks. It all looked beautiful and pristine, and it actually had an impact on the plot when the newly-opened Shard becomes a plot-point. That they took the time to get some sweeping shots of the city was much appreciated, especially since I’ve been recently visited by some real-life Brits. It’s time to start planning my own travels.
8. Matt Smith as the Doctor
Matt Smith is well and truly the Doctor by this stage, and more than ever I can really see him as an old man in a young man’s body; a zany old professor who has stumbled across a delightful puzzle that he wants to solve.
Even better, this is the first time that he’s found himself a new companion that he not only finds intriguing, but that he has to actively (and rather miserably) try to impress. Throughout most of the episode we see the Doctor attempting to make a good impression on Clara, whether it be muttering “monks are not cool” to himself, demonstrating some 70s dance moves as an example of “young people stuff” and setting out flowers and Jammy Dodgers for Clara when she awakens.
It’s an interesting dynamic considering he’s a little unsure around Clara, whilst simultaneously knowing more about her than she does about herself. This is the first time that the Doctor seems to be truly fascinated by one of his companions, not really knowing where to start in puzzling her out and having a quick browse through her belongings whilst she’s asleep in the hunt for clues. That she ultimately postpones going on an adventure with him is another unexpected reaction, suggesting a level of independence and contentment with her own life that the Doctor isn’t used to in his companions.
9. Self-Plagiarism
So, the prologue’s warning “don’t click” was more than a little reminiscent of “don’t blink”, right? And people getting uploaded against their will and saved in a database was rather like The Silence in the Library, correct? And the presence of text from computer/cell-phones displayed across the screen was stylistically rather like techniques used in Sherlock? And really, the whole plot was lifted from The Idiot’s Lantern, in which villains utilize technology in order to entrap humans.
That said, the plot itself was a rather haywire. Though I liked the idea that there are “layers” of evil going on, what with Ms Kizlet having the Great Intelligence as a client who employs her to harvest human minds/souls, it’s unclear exactly how and why so many people were getting uploaded. Perhaps that’s a question for later down the track, but at this point it very much felt like an Excuse Plot. More than that, the villains never truly felt like a real threat; in fact, they were on the defensive for most of the episode.
Which brings us to...
10. Nitpicks
The Spoonheads (or servers) were far too slow. When they uploaded Clara (for the second time) and then Mrs Kizlet, there was plenty of time for each woman to make a dash for it whilst the robot’s head was very, very slowly swivelling around.
What happened to the guy in the prologue?
Victims are snatched up from all over the world, and each and every one of them has the exact same reaction to finding themselves on the internet: “I don’t know where I am.” Was that meant to be a coincidence?
Clara rang up the helpline and actually STAYED ON THE LINE in the time it took for the monk to hear the phone ringing, fetch the Doctor from the monastery and ride all the way back again? Yeesh.
When the Doctor emerges from the Tardis on a motorcycle, he leaves the Tardis door wide open!
When Ms Kizlet uses the woman in the television to speak to the Doctor, wouldn’t people all around London/England be seeing that broadcast?
I’ll admit, I’ve never actually seen a professional hack a computer. But I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t involve jamming your fingers across a keyboard as fast as you can.
11. Drops of Poison
As a survivor of Merlin and its complete inability to write any female characters decently, rendering each and every one of them (bar one, I suppose) either a helpless distressed damsel, an evil wicked monster or a relatively sympathetic but innately treacherous female, I’m fairly blasé about the women in Moffat’s Doctor Who. It’s not as good as RTD’s representation, but at least they’re a. central and b. have agency. I’ve read through some fairly interesting metas about how Clara is being treated as more of a plot-point than a character and that once again Moffat is setting up a woman as “a mystery to be solved” rather than an ordinary human being, all of which has merit as legit criticism, but which I’m not going to participate in at this point. I think Merlin has temporarily beaten by feminist outrage into a state where it just needs to lay low and recuperate for a while.
Though I don’t doubt that Moffat has some women issues (I still bristle when I think of Irene Adler’s final five minutes in A Scandal in Belgravia) I’ve never been particularly fussed about his writing for Amy or River. However, what DOES continue to get my goat are the stupid little “jokes” that Moffat implants in his scripts that feel like drops of poison in the midst of an otherwise perfectly good story. In this case, it was this exchange:
Monk: “An evil spirit?”
Doctor: (with a “not quite, but close” air): A woman.
Monk crosses himself.
I just...I...I’m speechless. How did that awful line get green-lit?