Oh, Brother!

Torchwood: Exit Wounds

Did I miss anything? Sorry about the unscheduled absence (and with no note from my Mum either) but a combination of terminal Internet failure and the love of a good woman seemed to have put paid to my Torchwood ranting for good. But thanks to the miracle of broadband - and the fact the other half’s got PMT - I’m back for the finale. The ‘shocking’ conclusion to Series 2. Just in time for Tennant and Tate to start the fan-baiting all over again. So, was it worth the wait?

Are you f**king kidding me?

Exit Wounds is Torchwood in microcosm: fifty minutes of shouting, swearing, shagging and shitting on the very concept of ‘adult’ drama that this show was supposed to adhere to way back in the dark autumn of 2005 when its birth was first announced. It isn’t bad, just laughable. Skewed character dynamics jostle with end-of-the-world over-egged drama to produce possibly one of the worst season finales of any television show, ever. And I’m even including Metal Mickey in that one

I’m just disappointed that we were spared the sight of Burn Gorman dissolving away into the ether like some CGI infested take on a domestos ad

Are there any redeeming features? No, frankly. I’ve tried. I really have. Even Owen and Tosh’s inevitable demises leave me vaguely cold. I mean, one died of terminal lack of character development about a season back and the other’s had at least three death scenes already this year, so why should I give a flying one anyway? Besides I’m just disappointed that we were spared the sight of Burn Gorman’s improbable features dissolving away into the ether like some CGI infested take on a domestos ad.

And as for the rest, well I don’t really need to pick holes seeing as the whole thing is about as waterproof as a sea-devil’s string vest. Take the fact that Captain John (James Masters on auto-pilot, but still the best thing in this) is suddenly the good guy, despite blowing up fifteen major buildings in Cardiff and causing untold death and destruction. Oh, that’s right, Captain Jack’s evil brother had strapped a bomb to his wrist and was threatening to blow him up unless he played ball. Which of course also meant that he had to pump Jack with enough lead to have him shitting pencils for a month and torture the grinning f**wit within an inch of his (eternal) life. As character volte faces go, Captain John suddenly becoming the hero of the hour and walking away as scott free as OJ Simpson certainly takes the garibaldi.

I’d love to know how Jack passed the time while chewing on soil for two thousand years. Counting lovers, perhaps, or maybe trying to think of a worst script writer than the Chibnall Wizard

And anyway, where exactly does the drama of constantly killing an unkillable character come from? Torchwood pretty much nailed its balls to the mast way back in episode one with this one; and two series later I’m still none the wiser. I notice now they’re even skipping the resurrection bits, seeing as Jack’s post-brotherly-reunion stabbing barely gets a footnote. No surprises then that the production team have all but given up on trying to make it dramatic, leaving the only option to bury the f**ker under Cardiff for a couple of millennia until plot contrivances catch up. Though I’d love to know how Jack passed the time while chewing on soil for two thousand years. Counting lovers, perhaps, or maybe trying to think of a worst script writer than the Chibnall Wizard. Either way, the idea of Jack being under the ground since 47AD is a concept so bad that even a parodying Steven Moffat would throw it out during a first draft of The Curse of Fatal Death.

And then there’s the dialogue. To be fair, the Big Bad of this episode is so ‘bad’ that even Dennis Potter would have struggled to gain any credence with the moronic Grey as his muse. A villain so awful that he resembles a cross between a boy band member and a Joseph cast-off who’s just been evicted and has to sing for his sympathy in front of his fellow wannabes. A man with such a terminal case of chip-on-the-shoulder he makes Ian Levine look forgiving. A gimp who gives a whole new psychiatric definition to abandonment complex. And even then they give him such deathless lines as ‘hemmed in by corpses…praying to become one’ just to rub it in. There really is no hope for some people.

Rhys and PC Andy: the Cannon and Ball of the Hub’s extended family of f**k buddies

Still, at least Grey’s return gives John Barrowman an excuse for the kind of big band emoting that would put even Gwyneth Paltrow to shame. See how his jaw clenches up with the sheer bravado of it all. Witness the clenched teeth agony of finding out your own brother has murdered your friends, buried you under a second-rate capital city and can pout even more than you can and still find the love in your heart to forgive him. It’s a good job Jack has abandoned the Christ complex (whaddaya mean he hasn’t?) and takes to murdering the little f**ker given the first chance. He’s done some pretty questionable things this year, but Jack smothering Grey and sticking him in the (increasingly crowded) Torchwood freezer centre is arguably the most extreme example of tough love seen yet.

And then there were three. With Owen and Tosh finally fulfilling their oh-so-obvious roles of doomed characters, Team Torchwood appears to have a couple of vacancies for next year. My vote’s for Rhys and PC Andy to get the nod; they’re already the Cannon and Ball of the Hub’s extended family of f**k buddies, and I for one would love to see Rhys telling Jack to piss off on a weekly basis. They could even set up a bit of an eternal triangle between Rhys, Gwen and Andy - seeing as the dimwit still seems to hold some kind of torch (not to mention ‘wood’) for her - to go alongside the already smouldering Rhys, Gwen and Jack one (though my money’s on Jack f**king Rhys before Gwen, anyway). And maybe all this employee reorganisation will leave a Martha-shaped hole into the bargain. Perhaps they’ll even give her something to do this time…

I don’t think I can carry on after this’ Gwen blubs, while wondering when the next series of Belonging is going to start

But enough’s enough. Torchwood peaked far too soon this year and I for one can well wait for the 21^st Century to rear it ugly head once again. ‘I don’t think I can carry on after this’ Gwen blubs, while wondering when the next series of Belonging is going to start. And who am I to argue with such salient wisdom..?

Next Time: Back to Who and the inevitable controversy of Tate-Gate. Still, would we really have it any other way?