Behind the Sofa - The Collaborative Doctor Who Blog

Should Have Gone To Specsavers

Also known as "The Captain's New Clothes" or "Cup o'Beans, Mr Partridge?"

Children of Earth: Day Three

I do genuinely worry for some Doctor Who/Torchwood fans. After two series of what could, at the very least, be termed abuse and at the worst a flagrant disregard for all standards of decency and humanity, Torchwood is finally delivering the goods. And how. Yet, there are people out there in Webshire who long for Cyberwoman, who are gently rocking themselves to sleep, crying into the coat of their Captain John action figure and attempting to eek viewing 4,985 out of their terminally damaged Meat DVD. These people worry me. What on earth do they want? Would they like the gas to clear in the tank and for The 456 to be revealed as nothing more than Gray standing there naked apart from a prosthetic aardvark head and a bout of the norovirus?

Pray silence for Mr and Mrs Fiscal Tightening and their budgie, Cuts.

I suppose now that the hub's been blown apart series 4's main threat will come from keeping the tramps from pissing in the doorway of their new base - so normal service might be resumed after all. Of course there were moments of silliness, aside from the Primark version of Hustle. Jack's skewed priorities and Ianto's ability to pinpoint the nearest Army Surplus store - even if you've got to ask yourself which army, in this day and age - generates these sorts of surpluses? Is there a big stock of World War II great coats out there? Perhaps that's all the MoD have left to send the troops to Afghanistan with.

The offspring of John Le Mesurier and Richard Briers.

And the 24 hour rolling news woman's back again. This poor dear remains the sole US news anchor on duty, now entering her 5th consecutive year without so much as a minute's rest. At least the UK seems to have a fairly deep roster of anchors to chew their way through, Louise Minchin being the latest in the long line. What I would give to have Peter Allen be the next one. In fact, when the inevitable happens and we get subjugated by an alien overlord, I'd like to request that it is Peter Allen's grumpy tones that impart the bitter news to a shattered nation as we're taken, one by one, to a fantastical meat processing plant and filleted. Even if Minchin's big scene is basically a re-run of the Aliens of London/World War III (I can't be bothered to work out which one) scene where Andy Marr's running commentary covered the political arrivals at the Number 10 Ball. Pray silence for Mr and Mrs Fiscal Tightening and their budgie, Cuts.

The highlights of the series so far has been Frobisher, who I thought was almost about to give The 456 chapter and verse on diplomatic protocol right down to the correct temperature to serve Ferrero Rocher and Dexter who looks like the offspring of John Le Mesurier and Richard Briers. Perhaps The 456's slight dicky stomach is down to one too many Ferrero Rochers from their last diplomatic encounter. Who knows... perhaps it is Gray after all and the last two days will be spent petulantly sulking at the Universe?

At least it'll keep certain sections of fandom happy for a few scant moments.

Need His Moth :)

Torchwood: Children Of Earth - Day Three

That. Was. Scary.

Scary Torchwood.

I wonder if this is how we'll have to conduct diplomatic relations with the North Koreans when they decide to hold us to ransom by nuking the entire planet? I've not been as chilled to the bone by an hour of television as much as that in a very long time. Day Three's rendition of an archetypical science fiction genre trope - 'first contact' (except in this case, it was more like...er...second contact) - was magnificently done. More of that later.

We do, unfortunately, have to deal with the rest of the episode first. Round of applause please for Lachele Carl as the ever reliable Trinity Wells. The first half of the script's pincer movement from James Moran and Russell T Davies to try and convince us that, yeah, this a global event. Look out for the French newsreader and American general plus various extras of ethnic diversity to complete the manoeuvre. However, we did get interminable, grating scenes of newreaders with various close ups of their mouths and eyes scattered throughout the hour. Enough! I know the world's hanging by a thread but judging by this we'll all probably suffocate under swathes of rolling 24 hour news bulletins first before the slimy, boomy voiced aliens get us.

The script strikes an ironic note with Ianto's 'All together. The old team' because of course it's not the old team. Torchwood's reputation for early retirement has seen to that and instead we've got Jack fretting about his track suit bottoms fashion faux pas, Rhys throwing a strop with Gwen about sharing her good news and Ianto getting the horn. Erm...excuse me? The Prime Minister's on the telly doing a 'swine flu pandemic' closing the schools type announcement thing. Focus. Despite this fluff, there's a sweet and funny scene where Ianto passes a message on to Rhiannon and we find out that her husband Jonny has reacted with entrepreneurial zeal ('ten quid a kid!') and is getting her to mind the neighbours' kids. I really like the efforts to fill in Ianto's background and with Davies trademark ability to write naturalistic dialogue and characters it's been easy to warm to Rhiannon and Jonny. We also check back in with Jack's daughter, Alice and there's a gently percolating build up to giving her more involvement in Day Three.

I say you can never go wrong having a spare Lemsip so sod recovering the Hub software and put the kettle on. Oh, well. Time for our rag-tag team to remember what they learned from The Real Hustle and use various cons to snaffle themselves enough equipment and money to set themselves up a temporary Hub and get Gwen some clean knickers and Jack a new army surplus coat. Again, this has that comic book feel to it where our heroes simply can't just go out and deal with the problem until they've sorted out their sartorial arrangements. What baffles me is how on earth they cracked the chip and pin on those cards they ran off with? More delaying tactics really and enough to get Ocean's 3 and a half set up so that they can snoop in on the diplomatic talks of the century. And Rhys gets to cook a nice pan of beans, Ianto's got the coffee on and there's loo paper in the shitter. Back in business.

Fortunately, Moran and Davies centre a good portion of the episode on Lois Habiba as our point of view at the meeting with the 456. This is thanks to that ubiquitous Bond gadget, tried and tested by one Martha Jones in Reset, the ACME Contact Lens Camera™. There is perhaps a suggestion here that Lois was pretty much created as a replacement for the rumoured idea of Martha joining Torchwood. In the end, Cush Jumbo has by now already made the role her very own and she communicates great vulnerability and fear when Gwen pleads with her to use the camera to spy on their behalf. We also start to get details of Jack's connection to the incident in 1965 and his relationship to one of Torchwood's former employees. It's at this point that the episode drops all the fluffy caper nonsense and really starts getting hard nosed. Agent Johnson's found Alice and is ordered to bring her in, Gwen gets help from PC Andy to release the recently arrested Clem in a very emotional reunion with some superb playing from Paul Copley, whilst Frobisher prepares for the arrival of the 456.

Lois bluffs her way into persuading Bridget to allow her into the meeting with the 456 by intimating that her relationship with Frobisher is based on more than taking a letter. It's another superb little character moment where Susan Brown, who has been brilliant as the dour Bridget, succinctly reveals all of Bridget's personal history with Frobisher with her tart remark to Lois of 'You're not the first, you know. Don't go thinking you're the first'. Meanwhile, Alice goes all Captain Jack on us, and she even has a matching coat, in an attempt to escape Johnson's clutches ('certainly your father's daughter') but suddenly all the kids go weird and do lots of pointing to the sky. The 456 are here. Lois gets ready to pop her contacts in as, in scenes reminiscent of Euston Films 1979 Quatermass, a column of fire descends to earth and we are treated to probably the finest, and scariest minutes of British telefantasy in a long while.

The encounters with the 456 work because they follow the simplest and most effective premise for generating genuine terror. Don't show the creature. Merely suggest it. The build up to the scene where they arrive and Frobisher converses with them completely rested on how Moran, Davies and director Lyn were going to scare the pants off you. It's really a tour de force of writing, directing and acting as well as the use of impressive and highly suggestive sound effects which again takes us right back to Kneale's early Quatermass serials where alien visitors are only briefly glimpsed but given fantastic presence by good reactions from actors and, more importantly, from the work of the fledgling Radiophonic Workshop. Here, all is required is the combination of brilliant sound effects, Ben Foster's very sensitive scoring, the subtlest of movements broken by violent thrashing and the spilling of lots of very unpleasant looking body fluids in the gas filled chamber to provide fuel for over active imaginations and sleepless nights. And then you get that dead pan, slightly synthesised voice as a bonus. Close Encounters this ain't. Stunning.

Add Peter Capaldi in, quite frankly, what should be an award winning performance as Frobisher, his stress summed up by that exhausted slump against the corridor wall after the first encounter, and this is very definitely must see television. I also loved the contrast between this and the then tit for tat squabble between General Pierce, Colonel Oduya of UNIT and Prime Minister Green in a sort of G8 for alien encounters where, similarly, much hot air fills the vaulted ceilings of rooms bearing witness to the cut and thrust of international relations. Green decides to leave it to the 'middle men' like Frobisher, claiming he's 'expendable' and suggesting that he's possibly unlikely to survive beyond Day Five. As Gwen cuts through traffic to get Clem a cup of tea and a hotdog ('I bloody love 'em'), there's that lovely, rather humanising, moment between Bridget and Lois as she suggests that perhaps her eagerness to 'trot after John Frobisher' didn't forsee meetings with slimy beasties from outer space. Likewise, Frobisher's admission that Jack is the better man because he won't take Frobisher's wife and children as hostage tells us that he's very determined for Jack not to reacquaint himself with the 456.

As we watch, director Lyn covers the formal diplomatic negotiations all through Frobisher's reactions, Lois's eyes, through the laptop screens and translations via shorthand in the makeshift Hub, beautifully building the tension of the scene and also using that lovely bit of tension breaking humour with Gwen's typo of 'Need his moth' and Rhys' comment about smileys. The pieces start to come together and, shockingly, it is clear that Jack and Torchwood originally did a deal with the 456 back in 1965, as recalled by Clem, and now they're back and they want their further 10%. In the end, the story positions both Jack and Frobisher not as opposites but very much as men on the same side in their dealings with the 456.

Let's hope we get more scary Torchwood with Day Four because Day Three was, quite simply, excellent.

I Want to Believe

Torchwood: Children of Earth: Day Three

 Incredible. The best so far.

The confrontation between Frobisher and the 456 halfway through the episode? Sweet Jesus that's intense! Oldest trick in the book, not showing the monster, but it's the way to go. We have no idea what the hell is in that tank aside from the fact that it leaves a lovely residue and is prone to violent outbursts seemingly at random. Some of the sound effects came out a bit Raxacoricofallapatorian, but I really didn't care. That's no Slitheen. That's a threat. The foggy visuals and the deep voice are important, but the timing really sells it. The suddenness of the physical outbursts. The occasional delay or refusal to respond. It's clear who's in charge of this conversation and it's not the one who's doing the all the talking.

Which is why Capaldi's performance at Frobisher is so important to selling the scene. Luckily he's superb. At the end of the exchange, when he shudders and slumps (you and me both, friend), that's magic. Frobisher has been the surprise standout of this show and the real lynchpin of the story. His conversation with Jack, his reception of the news that he's the scapegoat: there's such humanity to the character, and it's a pleasure when he's on screen.

Lois is winning me over. Although Jumbo is occasionally overshadowed by Capaldi, her performance is itself a marvelous part of the episode, with her bluff being a defining moment both for her character and the suitably nasty Bridget Spears. It's the secondary characters who really shine. I'm even willing to forgive the unfortunately small role of PC Andy for the sake of the daring escape attempt by Alice.

This episode has everything I've come to like about the new Torchwood and then some. It develops the mysteries in an interesting way, contains some fantastic character acting by a cast broad enough that I couldn't praise them all without making this review seem like a shopping list, and a monster whose creepiness sells the alien threat hard enough to justify all the fuss. In short, I loved it.

But I'm still troubled by it. There's a lot of optimism for the future of Torchwood buzzing around the net over the past couple of days, but is that optimism really justified if the only way Torchwood's managed to make a hit is by sidelining its own main characters? Frobisher is the star of this story, and the plot is the government's handling of 456's arrival. Torchwood itself has been demoted to subplot status, at least so far. A confrontation between Torchwood and the 456 seems inevitable, once the team manages to get their act together. The destruction, scattering, reunion, and re-establishment of the Torchwood team over the past two hours is a transparent ploy on behalf of the writers: it serves the dual function of padding for length and stalling for time, keeping the team busy for two episodes while the groundwork is laid for Day Four and Day Five. I think. It will be hard to say until we've seen the story in its entirety

This type of storytelling is normal and forgivable, even occasionally appropriate, and here it's working well. to reiterate: I love Children of Earth thus far and Day Three has some of its best moments yet. What I'm troubled by is not the story but an external consideration: if The Powers That Be have decided that the proper way to write Torchwood is to keep the stars in secondary roles while the plot is happening elsewhere, that may make for a good story but isn't it problematic in the long run?

Maybe it's a moot point, because the revelations about Jack's involvement with the events of 1965 have put him dramatically front and center. Which solves that problem but opens up an entirely different can of worms. It's a return to Torchwood's old formula, with the same old "Jack's-mysterious-past-catches-up-with-him" storytelling that's been a hallmark of this program since the beginning. The Doctor-ifying of Jack is one of the most annoying things in the contemporary Whoniverse, with the companion-ifying of the rest of the Torchwood team being a natural consequence of that. Jack is not the Doctor. Trying to make him the Doctor cheapens Jack, the Doctor, and the rest of the Torchwood team. And  it looks like we may be going down that road again.

All of that is troubling. But Children of Earth has been awesome so far and there's just so much to love about this most recent installment. Maybe that's why I find myself feeling like it's too good to be true, and that a sudden, sharp drop in quality is inevitable. I hope I'm wrong.

And by the way, where's Nick Briggs? Isn't he meant to be in this? I hope he jumps out of nowhere to provide a deus ex machina in the last ten minutes of Day Five. Wouldn't that be lovely?

Oh, God. I've jinxed it, haven't I?

Testimony of a Child.

Torchwood: Children of Earth: Day Three.

"Day Three in Thames House.  Mr Frobisher is talking to the 456 about nominations."

Riveting.  It takes some very good writers (in this case Russell T Davies and James Moran) and excellent performances to make a scenario we genre fans have seen played out dozens of times before, human to alien contact, this suspenseful.  This showdown had all of the ingredients.  Our heroes out of the room having to witness the action via relay leaving the inexperienced middle manager to do the talking, an inability to see the alien properly, our only clues to its true nature that its behaviour and vocabulary closely mirrored that of a delinquent teenager lashed to the gills on white cider ringed by a halo of marijuana smoke and the slow burn of incomprehension as our very British bureaucracy clashed with a culture that didn’t give a stuff about such things.

Turns out the 456 are running an intergalactic “protection” racket.  Give us x number of children each time we visit or we’ll burn the rest of the planet, our massive rocket shaped baseball bat ready to smash up the windows of the world if you don’t have enough takings to cover the debt each time (or whatever it was that happened in that 80s episode of Eastenders with Ali’s Café).  The Doctor would taken one look at that scenario and laughed, got his game face on, done something wizzy with his sonic screwdriver, perhaps pressed a big red button, jumped in the TARDIS and visited the mothership and had a speedy shout through there as well before returning to Earth to give everyone a hug before buggering off again.

Because at its heart, as I’ve suspected but tonight’s episode confirmed, Children of Earth is really about what happens during an alien invasion when the Doctor isn’t there (just as I suppose both of these spin-offs are).  It can’t help it.  It’s Turn Left but with events yet to be seen, known unknowns.  That could be inadvertent, though Jack’s brief mention of the timelord must surely be part of a subliminal strategy to keep him in our thoughts.  The general expression seems to be – even with Torchwood (and perhaps because of) we’d be pants, jurisdictional infighting or geographical cock measuring getting in the way of dealing with something more important.  In the next episode the world’s clearly going to appease the alien’s demands and hold a lottery closely followed by some all purpose civil unrest.

We could have a discussion here about how Martha hasn’t phoned her Gallifrayan friend at the first sign of global trouble just as she did in The Sontaran Stratagem (I means she’s only on her honeymoon and not callous) but like the Sarah Jane question that’s just something we’ll have to suspend our disbelief over – this is one big universe, everything is connected, but for narrative purposes we’re just going to have to assume they’re otherwise indisposed.  My assumption is that because of what happened in 1965 the last thing they want is the Doctor showing up to give them a right telling off and that if Captain Jack himself was considering it he’s too embarrassed.  Or something.

In Jack himself we see the timelord’s influence.  The man who sent those kids to their probable doom is the broken version we greeted in the first season, soiled by the influence of the darker version of Torchwood.  We know this because he did much the same thing at the end of PJ Hammonds’s Small Worlds (which much surely warrant a mention in the next episode).  The Jack we greet these days is the one who spent a year being tortured on the Valiant for a year, the presumably more heroic version, the one who wouldn’t nab Frobisher’s kids, who jokes around and isn’t really comfortable unless he’s wearing army surplice.  Perhaps tomorrow such issues will finally be nailed to the ground.

Elsewhere in those jokier ends of the episode we watched Torchwood regrouping or rather re-enacting an episode of Hustle so that they could empty PC World and spend much of the episode in that warehouse.  I used to get a bit annoyed when some newsreader would signal impending doom Torchwood Cardiff’s first reaction would to joke about and find the quietest place for a shag but the writing seemed to make clear that it’s a defence mechanism, a way of dealing with the unbelievable.  It helps that the cast have developed their comic timing somewhat; the old watch humour always used to seem a bit forced but the baked bean curtailing pre-charver negotiation was nicely played with Kai Owen’s blistering unawareness a joy.

The guest cast also continue to impress.  The surprise in this episode was the burst of action from Alice who has clearly been trained by her father to defend herself; did anyone else think when she was asked by Johnson whether she too was invulnerable that Lucy Cohu was going for the ambiguous beat, that it’s something she herself has pondered despite the fact that she’s growing old?  Never mind Lois Habiba, Alice is surely the natural new Torchwood member if Cohu’s free and willing, forever digging into her dad about never having been there for him, assuming there is a new series (and given that Day Two was the most watch programme on Tuesday that’s highly likely – people love this show).

So let’s ask the question again.  Who are these aliens?  Certain editors of this website on their twitter feeds have made genius suggestions, but I won’t steal their thunder. I’m still convinced they have something to with the children taken in the 60s, the current smoky box presence a more sophisticated version of the Balok puppet the Enterprise tackled in Star Trek’s The Corbomite Maneuver, the face behind the face.  Or the Borad.  Or the Skeksis from The Dark Crystal.  A triffid.  Gonzo the Great.  A disembodied tendril from the version of the Sarlacc Pit that appeared in the special editions of the Star Wars films.  At this point, I have no real idea.  And isn’t that the greatest?

Tomorrow:  Before the show, Gary in Stockport selected Arthur and set of balls number three...