Tosh! A-Ha! Saviour of the Universe!

Torchwood: To the Last Man

The opening moments of this week's installment of Torchwood were genuinely terrifying. That's right, the name 'Helen Raynor' instilled more dread into me than a whole posse of abominable snowmen queuing for a loo in Tooting Bec. Don't forget, this is the woman responsible for the yawn-a-thon that was The Ghost Machine (an interminably dreary episode, saved only by Gwen's hilarious "stabbing Gareth Thomas" face) as well as the worst Dalek story ever committed to screen. And that includes The Chase. To say that I approached this episode with a sense of trepidation is something of an understatement.

Matters weren't helped by the fact that this week's guest star looked uncannily like a young Alan Partridge. When he flipped out towards the end I half-expected him to attack Captain Jack with a lump of Camembert ("Smell my cheese, Torchwood!") and I was marginally disappointed when chocolate mousse didn't put in an appearance during his final tryst with Tosh. Sadly, this hampered my appreciation of Anthony Lewis' beautiful (probably) performance, which might go some way to explaining why To the Last Man was, to me at least, the greatest love story never told.

"Smell my cheese, Torchwood!"

The concepts bubbling beneath this episode are quite brilliant. If only they had a couple of hours in which to explore the ramifications of Tommy and Tosh's predicament, then this could have been on a par with Somewhere in Time in the unrequited time-travelling love stakes. Sadly, Torchwood only has 45 minutes in which to deliver - and it has to factor in lots of pointless running up and down corridors and homoeroticism as well. They never stood a chance. But at least the plot hinged on an original premise and I was moved by it intellectually, if not emotionally.

All the really interesting things are left to the imagination: like, how did Tommy initially adjust to his unique style of "time travelling"? How long is he defrosted for each time? It it hours or days? And what's the rush to get him back in the box? If it's to make sure he's kept safe and won't screw up the time-line, by being run over by a bus, for example, then surely they wouldn't let him out of the base at all? What were 1980s Torchwood like? Admit it, you can't wait to find out. And what did Cardiff really look like as 1918 started to crash in on it; surely this is the worst example of 'tell, don't show' in Torchwood's short history? Just like last week's nuclear arsenal, Torchwood seem to have a handy "look at the threat!" machine that goes ping and keeps things exciting (and cheap). Where's TIM or ZEN when you need him?

Half of the problem with this show is that it's willfully schizophrenic. There's no real continuity of character or tone between any of the episodes: last week Ianto was a comedian, this week he's Eeyore again, Jack is now firmly entrenched in "git mode", conveniently forgetting that only two weeks ago he seemed to suggest that all of his angst had been washed away, whereas Gwen continues to oscillate wildly between droopy, teary-eyed bimbo and hard nosed copper. Three episodes into the second season and it still feels like the show doesn't know what it wants to be.

Having said all that, it was great to see Tosh being pushed to the forefront of the action for a change. She is, after all, the only member of Team Torchwood who is even close to being likeable by default; not to mention hot. My only worry is that she's going to become Owen's f**k-buddy now (surely a fate worse than death). Her affair also reinforces my belief that Jack is guilty of affirmative action, and only young and attractive bisexuals can find gainful employment in his organisation. Owen is simply there to throw people off the scent.

Last week Ianto was a stand-up comedian, this week he's Eeyore again...

And then there's the ending. It feels churlish to slam an episode for an utterly ludicrous denouement but this one really takes the proverbial biscuit.

I honestly thought Jack was going to go back through the rift, where he'd give Tommy a heroic pep talk and then get stuck in 1918. He'd eventually turn up back in Torchwood in 2008 having led yet another life (avoiding his other immortal self in the process; I can see the spin-off now: My Two Jacks - call me, Russell), and I'm fairly sure that a Doctor Who spin-off novel did something similar with the 5th Doctor once, where he was forced to sit out a century, quietly running a restaurant, or something. At least it would have given Jack something to do. Who knows, they could have re-booted his character one more time in an effort to make him vaguely likeable again.

Sure it would have been silly. Almost as silly as suggesting that Jack will eventually transmogrify into a giant face in a jar. But at least it would have spared us from Helen Raynor's DNA fetish. Why doesn't somebody stop her? I honestly thought that Owen's last-minute "let's-say-it-really-fast-so-it-sounds-almost-plausible" plan was a wind-up for a self-referential punchline. I can't even begin to explain (or accept) how some of Tommy's blood could allow Tosh to astrally project into the past so she could convince someone who wouldn't even remember her [for some reason that isn't adequately explained] to turn a key. I typed that really quickly and it still doesn't make any sense. It felt forced and wholly unnecessary, too. How much better would it have been if Tommy had chosen to follow through with the plan, not because some hot chick was asking him to, but because he knew it was the right thing to do? And how much more tragic would it have been if Tosh had decided not to go along with Jack's plan and it was Tommy that had convinced her instead? Anything other than the tosh (sorry) we got would have been a massive improvement. As soon as they wheeled out the mind-probe it was game over for me.

Owen's "let's-say-it-fast-so-it-sounds-plausible" plan sounded like a wind-up to a self-referential punchline.

What ultimately saves To the Last Man is its direction. Andy 'Jean-Luc' Goddard did a fantastic job here - no whip-pan madness and crash-zoom silliness, just lots of interesting angles and space for the characters to breathe. There's some excellent editing and lighting effects, and the production values as a whole are simply stunning (especially in HD). But it's the way in which Goddard chose to tell this story that really impressed me.

This is encapsulated in a beautifully understated moment towards the end of the episode. Torchwood 1918 are quickly leading Tommy away from the hospital, enabling "our" Tommy to take up his rightful place in the time-line, and as they leave the room Mr. Carter briefly looks back over his shoulder. It would have been so easy to cut to a bewildered (or knowing) close-up here, but instead the moment passes with an almost embarrassed silence. For some reason that I can't adequately explain, that really touched me.

And, for a short while at least, Torchwood actually felt like the best thing on TV.

Next week: Paul Cornell is back. And he's pissed!