Eleven....and little girls
Considering that a sponsor recently pulled out of David Tennant's new high-profile drama Broadchurch because they felt that a shot of a burning ship at sea wasn't appropriate for a cruise company to be associated with, it really is astonishing that after the Saville affair (for those of you outside the UK, this could reasonably be called the worst paedophile scandal in British history, involving a much-loved TV presenter), the BBC have allowed Stephen Moffat to present his Doctor as stalking his new companion, Clara.
What is it with Moffat and little girls? It has to stop. Really, it does.[Spoiler (click to open)]Apart from the squick factor, which is perhaps intentional but at the very least unfortunate, it's getting dull and predictable. It's been used too often - it came up twice in last week's episode, and twice again in The Rings of Akhatan. We got a girl who'd been followed by the Doctor taking it upon herself to rescue another little girl, in a plot that was more than a little reminiscent of The Beast Below.
I am beginning to wonder whether the numerous callbacks to previous Nu-Who episodes are part of an intentional voyage down memory lane as the 50th Anniversary looms, or if I've just been watching this show too long and nothing seems new any more (If I'm feeling like that, then Rassilon help the poor old Doctor). Was this episode meant to resemble The End of the World so closely, with its gorgeous fiery setpieces and its crazy mixed alien cast. Then again, it was also very similar to The Beast Below, with a new companion beginning to probe the Doctor's psyche, challenge him to find a way forward and then offering him significant moral support. And it did look rather like The Fires of Pompeii as well. I'm still working on a contrived link with Shakespeare.
I think we have to be careful about ticking off the fan-pleasing shout-outs. They may be intentional, or they may not. It's quite possible that Stephen Moffat is playing a very long game, and the usual theories abound, all of which he is, no doubt, thoroughly enjoying. Experience under both recent showrunners has shown that many of these apparent elaborate setups ultimately deliver little beyond a throwaway line in the penultimate episode (Donna's sudden uniqueness was never satisfactorily explained, for example). But what concerns me more is that this show, like any primetime drama, has to satisfy as a convincing story.
What does that mean, exactly? Ideally, it has to satisfy on two fundamental counts - plot and character. It's possible to sacrifice one, if the other delivers, though it's a risky strategy if it goes on week after week. Nobody remembers the holes in the plot of Doomsday because emotionally, it felt absolutely convincing and delivered in spades. Girl in the Fireplace was its mirror image - a beautiful musical box of a plot that was about as emotionally convincing as one of those clock people. There really isn't much time to set up character, particularly giving the increasingly complicated and tortuous narrative arcs Moffat favours and his apparently perverse abandonment of the two-episode format.
So, character set-up has to deliver and deliver fast. I liked the montage that filled in Clara's childhood, though I do think DW tends to overdo the orphaned or semi-orphaned characters at times. Rose was fatherless, Amy basically parentless and does anyone remember Rory's mum? I thought they covered a lot of ground in a few minutes and Clara's mum came over as being thoroughly likeable and believable. And then we're off into outer space, and a story that is fundamentally pleasing, well written and well acted, if a bit too similar (intentionally?) to what has gone before.
My worry about Clara, likeable and sparky though she is, is that like her predecessor River Song, she's apparently a concept rather than a character. This is a Moffat failing eloquently expressed by ed_rex and many others, and is at the heart of the deeply unsatisfying nature of his work, for me and for many others. One thing I notice about SM is that he seems most at home reimagining iconic characters. That's what is so wonderful about his Sherlock - the spade work has been done by ACD and all he has to do is quote. But the danger is that it reduces the main, iconic character to a brand. I think Sherlock and Watson can stand up to this, thrive on it, even, though the wise (if frustrating) limitation to three episodes every year, at most, certainly helps in this regard. But Moffat's Doctor is increasingly resembling an inverted pyramid, so weighed down by his 50 years of baggage that his power to convince as a living, breathing character is almost stifled.
The cynic would observe that in the present cultural climate, when funding depends upon the marketability of a branded character, this is actually an asset, but I think it has its limitations and, the skill of Matt Smith outstanding, it's becoming increasingly unsustainable. It's acceptable, enjoyable even, for a 50th Anniversary special to be self-referential and celebratory, but extending that concept to a whole series and beyond is liable to cause problems. For example, I loved the way that Eleven faced down the monster god - the rhetoric was glorious, but I found myself looking through him to Ten in The Impossible Planet, which felt very similar in tone. I did like Matt being given more to work with, and he's beginning to approach the emotional intensity of conviction of David Tennant in such big scenes, but the very fact that I'm thinking of DT rather than Matt at such a moment isn't a good sign.
But most of all, I do think the BBC need to have a word with Moffat about these little girls. Back in 1900 it was okay for people like JM Barrie to mess with children's heads in the interests of classic children's literature, but it really doesn't play well in a post-Saville world. And people are beginning to notice.
What is it with Moffat and little girls? It has to stop. Really, it does.[Spoiler (click to open)]Apart from the squick factor, which is perhaps intentional but at the very least unfortunate, it's getting dull and predictable. It's been used too often - it came up twice in last week's episode, and twice again in The Rings of Akhatan. We got a girl who'd been followed by the Doctor taking it upon herself to rescue another little girl, in a plot that was more than a little reminiscent of The Beast Below.
I am beginning to wonder whether the numerous callbacks to previous Nu-Who episodes are part of an intentional voyage down memory lane as the 50th Anniversary looms, or if I've just been watching this show too long and nothing seems new any more (If I'm feeling like that, then Rassilon help the poor old Doctor). Was this episode meant to resemble The End of the World so closely, with its gorgeous fiery setpieces and its crazy mixed alien cast. Then again, it was also very similar to The Beast Below, with a new companion beginning to probe the Doctor's psyche, challenge him to find a way forward and then offering him significant moral support. And it did look rather like The Fires of Pompeii as well. I'm still working on a contrived link with Shakespeare.
I think we have to be careful about ticking off the fan-pleasing shout-outs. They may be intentional, or they may not. It's quite possible that Stephen Moffat is playing a very long game, and the usual theories abound, all of which he is, no doubt, thoroughly enjoying. Experience under both recent showrunners has shown that many of these apparent elaborate setups ultimately deliver little beyond a throwaway line in the penultimate episode (Donna's sudden uniqueness was never satisfactorily explained, for example). But what concerns me more is that this show, like any primetime drama, has to satisfy as a convincing story.
What does that mean, exactly? Ideally, it has to satisfy on two fundamental counts - plot and character. It's possible to sacrifice one, if the other delivers, though it's a risky strategy if it goes on week after week. Nobody remembers the holes in the plot of Doomsday because emotionally, it felt absolutely convincing and delivered in spades. Girl in the Fireplace was its mirror image - a beautiful musical box of a plot that was about as emotionally convincing as one of those clock people. There really isn't much time to set up character, particularly giving the increasingly complicated and tortuous narrative arcs Moffat favours and his apparently perverse abandonment of the two-episode format.
So, character set-up has to deliver and deliver fast. I liked the montage that filled in Clara's childhood, though I do think DW tends to overdo the orphaned or semi-orphaned characters at times. Rose was fatherless, Amy basically parentless and does anyone remember Rory's mum? I thought they covered a lot of ground in a few minutes and Clara's mum came over as being thoroughly likeable and believable. And then we're off into outer space, and a story that is fundamentally pleasing, well written and well acted, if a bit too similar (intentionally?) to what has gone before.
My worry about Clara, likeable and sparky though she is, is that like her predecessor River Song, she's apparently a concept rather than a character. This is a Moffat failing eloquently expressed by ed_rex and many others, and is at the heart of the deeply unsatisfying nature of his work, for me and for many others. One thing I notice about SM is that he seems most at home reimagining iconic characters. That's what is so wonderful about his Sherlock - the spade work has been done by ACD and all he has to do is quote. But the danger is that it reduces the main, iconic character to a brand. I think Sherlock and Watson can stand up to this, thrive on it, even, though the wise (if frustrating) limitation to three episodes every year, at most, certainly helps in this regard. But Moffat's Doctor is increasingly resembling an inverted pyramid, so weighed down by his 50 years of baggage that his power to convince as a living, breathing character is almost stifled.
The cynic would observe that in the present cultural climate, when funding depends upon the marketability of a branded character, this is actually an asset, but I think it has its limitations and, the skill of Matt Smith outstanding, it's becoming increasingly unsustainable. It's acceptable, enjoyable even, for a 50th Anniversary special to be self-referential and celebratory, but extending that concept to a whole series and beyond is liable to cause problems. For example, I loved the way that Eleven faced down the monster god - the rhetoric was glorious, but I found myself looking through him to Ten in The Impossible Planet, which felt very similar in tone. I did like Matt being given more to work with, and he's beginning to approach the emotional intensity of conviction of David Tennant in such big scenes, but the very fact that I'm thinking of DT rather than Matt at such a moment isn't a good sign.
But most of all, I do think the BBC need to have a word with Moffat about these little girls. Back in 1900 it was okay for people like JM Barrie to mess with children's heads in the interests of classic children's literature, but it really doesn't play well in a post-Saville world. And people are beginning to notice.