Behind the Sofa - The Collaborative Doctor Who Blog

Sting and the Police

My ability to let this drag out until the final act amazes even me.

Whodunit?  Gareth Roberts.  In the BBC Wales main office.  With, I can only imagine, an 1895 Wellington Model 1 Thrust-action vintage typewriter.

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

Message In A Bottle

The similarities between The Unicorn and the Wasp and Gareth Roberts' earlier script The Shakespeare Code are glaring.  Each is an historical featuring an famous literary personage, witty dialogue, myriad clever literary and historical references, gratuitous homosexuality, and a dreadful magical conclusion.

...like the ropey remains of one of Damon's curries

Obviously, the biggest fault with the episode lies in the ending (or endings, if you prefer), so I'm going to start this review by turning to the last page and figuring out whodunit.  For much of the last act it seems like Roberts was just pulling stuff out of his arse like the ropey remains of one of Damon's curries.  The Reverend's anger "broke the genetic lock"??  He "realized [his] inheritance...after all these years."?  While this may not have quite matched the stomach-cramping abomination of Freema Agyeman spouting "Expeliarmus!" in last year's Roberts episode, it's still the sort of rubbishy bullshit-science that makes us science-fiction fans froth at the mouth.  Roberts' most grievous crime is the contrivance that the "Vespiform telepathic recorder" absorbed "the works of Agatha Christie directly from Lady Eddison", forcing the clergyman to engage in a complex ritual of serial homicide.  Perhaps they should have skipped to the end of the book she was reading and saved some time in solving the mystery.  Turns out that when she was in India a giant wasp dragged her back to its lair and laid its eggs inside her; after returning to England the larvae ate their way out of her and joined the C of E.

As the ending continues, the vicar turns into a wasp in a cloud of smoke. A cloud of fucking smoke?  You've got to be kidding me. Manimal had better transformation scenes.  After what turned out to be a pretty nice collection of giant-wasp footage (I was particularly impressed with the little details like the reverend's stinger nicking the paint off the ceiling), the least the Mill could have done is upset the Mary Whitehouses in the audience with a suitably gruesome homage to Cronenberg's version of The Fly.

Then, just when we think the painful ordeal is finally over, Fenella Woolgar doubles over, struck in the abdomen by Murray Gold's pummeling score.

In a miserable attempt to maintain some level of drama during an amiable car chase that would have been more thrillingly played out with hurtling rickshaws, we get the news that, once again, "Time is in flux, Donna!"  This fails to disuade us of the sickening realization that  the tail end of the episode will continue to stagger sousedly into the inevitable, predictable conclusion.  Then, just when we think the painful ordeal is finally over, Fenella Woolgar doubles over, struck in the abdomen by Murray Gold's pummeling score.  This has the convenient side effect of wiping her mind of the untenable explanation for the plot, and the Doctor and Donna leave her wandering confusedly in Harrogate like a returned abductee on The X-Files or a Liverpudlian football fan after the big match.

The final indignity in the episode is the maudlin bit at the end in the TARDIS.  Roberts borrows from RTD's Book of Very Large Numbers and David Tennant digs out his only not-dog-eared copy of an Agatha Christie book which not only has a giant wasp on the cover, but was published in the year five million.  Exactly five million.  We're not talking about some "5,012,315 A.D." shit here.  Round numbers only.  It's all about the zeros.

You may be surprised to learn that despite the final ten minutes of unmitigated bollocks, I actually enjoyed The Unicorn and the Wasp. Thoroughly. I had a gay old time. The final act of The Doctor's Daughter similarly ended in a staggering array of implausible crap, and I slagged it mercilessly in my review.  So why should this episode be different?  Why do I hold it to a different standard? Simple: The Unicorn and the Wasp was taking the piss.  The whole thing plays out like a send up of a genre so well-crafted that even I, who have never read an Agatha Christie book, can appreciate its machinations.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

As usual, I spent most of the episode in glassy-eyed adoration of Catherine Tate.  While there is some merit to the observations others have made that she was still settling into the character when this episode was filmed, I'm still pretty certain she's the finest thing about the last three or so decades of Doctor Who.  Some people have been all abuzz (like an angry Christopher Benjamin) about whether or not Tennant is going to hang around for series five in 2010...I'm much more worried that Tate won't be around for several more years of the program.  I'd hate to lose her after just a season.  "Please, mom...can we keep her?"  What happened to the good old days when you couldn't get rid of these people?

It's just that sort of resourcefulness and spunk that allows the best of the program's companions to transcend the wide-eyed damsel-in-distress quagmire that so often afflicted Adric and Mel.

Speaking of the good old days, I remember when the role of the Doctor's companion was to get into some sort of poorly-calculated dangerous situation and scream, allowing the Doctor to show up in the nick of time and save them.  How much cooler is it now that Donna is able to take things like bloody humongous wasps in stride, and deal with them herself?  No standing petrified like a deer in headlamps and shrieking for help...she defeats the rutting massive insect with a magnifying glass!  Twice!  It's just that sort of resourcefulness and spunk that allows the best of the program's companions to transcend the wide-eyed damsel-in-distress quagmire that so often afflicted Adric and Mel.

Over the previous several episodes Tate has been so busy impressing us with her formidable dramatic range that I almost forgot that she was a comedian.  Well, The Unicorn and The Wasp's wit-laden script was a fine showcase for her comedic talents.  From the brilliant "Oh, what noise! Alright, busy bee...I'll let you out. Hold on. I shall find you with my amazing powers of detection!" to Donna's totally affected laugh at Agatha's quip about Belgians to her indignant "I'll pluck you in a minute. Why don't we find the real police?", Tate's timing and delivery was pitch-perfect.  Only that "What ho!  Spiffing!" stab at the RP took me aback.

Synchronicity

Much of the episode, at least before the mawkish denouement, was littered with witty dialogue and rounded out by generally fine performances and sparkling chemistry between David Tennant and the rest of the cast.  Fenella Woolgar stands out for her spot-on portrayal of Christie, but props should probably go out to the entire ensemble cast orbiting the magnificent Felicity Kendal (a couple of times).

The true comedic masterpiece in the episode was the poisoning scene.  Everything about this made me happy.  Graeme Harper's reeling camerawork was ideal for setting the mood, and even Murray Gold's pounding music worked with the scene rather than against it. Tennant and Tate's performances were inspired, and all the elements fit together like  well-oiled machinery...Tennant pouring the ginger beer on his head and stuffing his face with walnuts, the game of charades ("Harvey Wallbanger?? How is Harvey Wallbanger one word?"), "I need something salty!" "How about this?" "What is it?" "Salt!" "That's too salty!", and Donna's "Alright then...big shock...coming up."  If I were the sqeeing type, I'd have squeed.

Another highlight of this was the uproariously funny bit where under cross-examination everyone has flashbacks to things they're too embarrassed to mention or can't use to establish an alibi, followed by the Doctor's own flashback about Charlemagne being stolen by am insane computer in Belgium (The Doctor in the flashback is played by David Tennant, so this would seem to imply that this is one of the Tenth Doctor's untelevised adventures).

Roger's avowed affection for thrashing young boys.

There was really no shortage of other brilliant little things in The Unicorn and the Wasp that deserve mention.  Graeme Harper's inspired first reveal of the giant wasp through Donna's magnifying glass.  Cornering the wasp in the hallway with all of the other suspects. Allusions to Edward Lear.  The subversion of the Agatha Christie formula when it turns out the Colonel can walk.  The crack about planet Zog.  Roger's avowed affection for thrashing young boys.

Don't Stand So Close To Me

If there's one more area where I wish Roberts had been able to restrain himself, it was with the whole need to explain away the murder mystery in the first place.  There was a nice parallel set up between Christie and the Doctor when they first figure out the murder's an alien ("Yeah, but think about it.  There's a murder, a mystery and Agatha Christie....no, but, isn't that a bit weird?  Agatha Christie didn't walk around surrounded by murders...not really.  I mean, that's like meeting Charles Dickens and he's surrounded by ghosts...at Christmas.")  I rather liked the image of murders following Agatha Christie around everywhere she goes just as everywhere the Doctor goes the murderers are aliens.  It would have been nice if they'd just stopped there.  Instead, everyone makes the same "it's just like an Agatha Christie book" observation throughout the rest of the episode, culminating in the ridiculously contrived explanation for the Vespiform's behaviour.

I can't help but think we should be grateful that Clemency was reading a Christie novel last Thursday.  Imagine how different the episode would have turned out if she were watching Torchwood.

The Wasp That Turned

Wasps. What practical use are they? What role in Nature's great Ghant chart do they play? If all the bees disappear (probably in some Adams-style pact with the dolphins) then it's widely accepted that we're royally screwed. Royally screwed with lashings of royal jelly heaped on top just to rub our noses in it. Serious bearded scientific megastars assure us that should all the bees vanish then man would probably only last a handful of years more. Even less if the vanishment occurred during Britain's Got Talent Live.

But seriously, if all the wasps went, what would happen?

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

They're useless at bridge, unable to locate Düsseldorf without the aid of a satnav and no good on a barbecue. If all the chickens eloped you'd not be able to pop down to Morrisons for a couple of wasp breasts (I'd love to see Alan Hanson extolling the virtues of cut price wasp meat on my telebox, that alone would make ITV 37% more bearable if I knew I was never more than 12 minutes away from someone from Clackmannanshire extolling the virtues of this week's wasp BOGOF offer). The generic meat kiev business would fold quicker than you could spout colony collapse disorder through a spluttering gob full of scrag end of wasp. And I hate them.

Massive bugs that would have makers of fly paper salivating all over their mandibles.

Of course the plaintive cry issued to any grown man afraid of anything vastly different in stature to himself is "you're much bigger than it, pull yourself together" (reminds me of the last time I came across Ronnie Corbett). Yes, I'm much bigger, but the last time I looked I wasn't equipped with a stinging device (and indeed the nearest I come to being that tooled up is the morning after a curry of volcanic proportions). And it's probably my repeated use of Doctor Who that made me susceptible to fear all insectoid life in the first place. Because if it's one thing they do well it's over-sized creepy crawlies. The back catalogue is littered with the sort of massive bugs that would have makers of fly paper salivating all over their mandibles.

Wincing whenever asked to hold a glass and a piece of card.

Opposible mandibles at that. How else would one be able to hold a piece of lead piping? Unless you're secreting a fairly ferocious substance that actively promotes stickiness (we're getting back to that curry again) as an agent for wasp-committed murder, the piping is not going to be that practical. But because you're somehow imbued with a sense of Agatha Christie mysteries, and not with a sense of Bill Strutton novelizations, you've kinda gotta work with what you're given. The Vicar must have gotten some subconscious indications of his true nature over the last 40 years. Unable to handle sticky paper at the Sunday School craft event, wincing whenever asked to hold a glass and a piece of card, forever smashing his nose on a pane of glass when attempting to leave a room, an uneasy feeling whenever passing a paperboy with a rolled up news paper. You know, it's the little things that say, "Hey... I just might be a wasp". Which is about as convincing as anything that was served up in the last 10 minutes.

One box of man-sized tissues and 14 wanking sessions away from it's own collapse.

Could it be that there's an entire generation of 30-something Who fans out there who have telepathically imprinted their entire run of Target novelizations onto their unborn children? Is this a little like playing classical music to them whilst they're still in the womb? Are they going to be propelled out their mothers with an innate ability to identify a pleasant-open, young-old face whilst making a wheezing groaning sound? Have we created a generation of Terrence Dickses? Of course not, there's not Doctor Who fan who's managed to procreate yet. Talk about colony collapse disorder - before the resurrection of the show the entire fan community was one box of man-sized tissues and 14 wanking sessions away from it's own collapse. Do me a cumquat. We've all got more chance of copping off with a giant wasp.

Ah well, I'm looking forward to BombayCon'09 already...

Murder Most Funny

And while everyone else is using the hiatus to talk about music, I'm using it to lazily delay my review of last week's episode.

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

Probably the most exciting thing about Doctor Who is its capacity to be absolutely anything each week. We can go from a morality play on an ice planet, to an invasion by alien thugs being stopped by military thugs, to an impromptu war between two different ragtag armies on an alien planet, to a murder mystery in the 1920s. It's a little bit sad that we've reached the point where nearly every story seems composed of recycled material dressed up to make it look pretty.  This episode, on the surface, might seem to fall victim to those problems. We get all that we expect from a celebrity historical. The companion tries to put on an accent, and the Doctor tells them not to. The Doctor and the companion try to make reference to things that haven't happened yet. The historical figure of note is called upon to solve all of the episode's problems with his or her incomparable genius.

But for all of its superficial similarities to The Unquiet Dead, Tooth and Claw, The Girl in the Fireplace and The Shakespeare Code, this episode nonetheless delivers something fresh and exciting, funny and sad, touching and terrifying. But mostly funny.

Of course, the episode is helped around by a group of interesting guest characters played for the most part by highly capable actors. Felicity Kendal deserves major credit for bringing to life that old stereotype of the upper-crust lady who copulated with a large insect and gave birth to his offspring by feigning illness and then watches as the insect offspring returns to murder those around her including her younger, legitimate son, who is a gay stereotype. Marvelous. Classic Christie, there. Or, so I suppose, because I've never read an Agatha Christie novel. She's on my list  of authors to eventually read, somewhere between Orson Scott Card and Terry Pratchett. Oh, look, I've gone and alienated most of the readers of this blog without saying incendiary about the episode.

Anyhow, Fenella Woolgar as Agatha Christie was a wonderful bit of casting, and props to David Tennant for suggesting her in the role. It would have been easy to portray Agatha Christie like Shakespeare and Dickens, simply a charismatic figure who thinks she knows her way around a mystery but is completely out of her league when the Doctor shows up. And to some extent this is true, but there are some notable differences here. When we first see Shakespeare and Dickens in their respective episodes, they are playing to a packed audience who is there to see there work, while Agatha is instead somewhat detached not only from the characters with which he interacts but also from her audience of readers in general. Woolgar plays the insecure but charismatic Agatha nearly perfectly. This is the most complex "celebrity" character we've seen in some time, and that is owed in equal parts to Woolgar and to Gareth Roberts' script, and this character perfectly complements (and perhaps surpasses) the Doctor as the hero of the episode.

It's not just the heroine and other characters of the episode that make this episode a thrilling and funny murder mystery, however. The episode is full of small touches that are bizarre, unusual, and occasionally even daring. Our first indication that this episode doesn't fit the traditional mold of Doctor Who episodes is the early scene with the newspaper clippings and the flashes forward to set up Agatha's disappearance. It's not a device that's used much on Doctor Who, or, in fact, anywhere anymore except as a joke. It creates a somewhat lighter tone that's maintained throughout the episode with a plethora of funny-but-throwaway Christie references. Despite never having read Christie, many of these were conspicuously placed, and so once I realized that it was going on (fairly early), it became easy to hear a line of dialogue and guess that it was a reference. The lighter tone of the episode keeps a series of brutal murders and one bizarre romance from becoming too disturbing, and allows a place for such wonderful moments as the Colonel's unnecessary confession and the Doctor's struggle to get the antidote he needs (a funnier variation on the Doctor's struggle to get a remedy from Jackie Tyler in The Christmas Invasion).

And David Tennant is marvelous in this episode, isn't he? This Doctor has always had the brooding, emotional side that we saw especially highlighted in last week's The Doctor's Daughter. That portrayal of the Doctor is always interesting to watch, and Tennant's portrayal has an emotional depth to it that keeps the character from feeling like the bored yet reckless wanderer of The Sontaran Strategem and The Poison Sky that seemed somewhat bland. But the Tenth Doctor has always had a zany and manic energy about him that has lent itself to some great comedic moments, and this episode emphasizes that part of the Doctor's character. He even has to be taken down a peg by Agatha for his enthusiasm about the situation. But the best scene in the episode was the aforementioned poisoning scene in the kitchen. In this scene, Tate tries and fails to keep pace with Tennant. This is the first time I've really had anything negative to say about Donna, but it's been mentioned by my fellow reviewers that this was the first episode filmed and so as Catherine Tate struggles to find the softer, gentler Donna, she is outshone by Fenella Woolgar in the role of Agatha. Which is nothing to be ashamed of.

But while Agatha acts as the star companion of this episode, a little more attention could have been paid to the story of her disappearance. From watching Confidential, it seemed like the goal of this story was to build Agatha Christie into one of her own murder mysteries while simultaneously doing the obvious Doctor Who thing and explaining her mysterious disappearance. And while the first was done admirably, it seems the second was sacrificed a bit to this end. The explanation for Christie's disappearance has little to do with this mystery story and when it comes it's not even a very good explanation. She wasn't abducted by aliens or anything, but she was apparently just brought to Harrogate by the Doctor in the TARDIS. It would have been nicer if they had just focused on the murder mystery.

And because this episode is a murder mystery, not only is the explanation for Christie's disappearance made superfluous, but the sense of scale in the story is narrowed, much to the episode's credit. In very nearly every episode, the entire Earth is at stake. Go down a list of episodes in the new series, leaving out those few that aren't set on or around Earth, and in nearly all of those that remain, the fate of the Earth is jeopardized. This was nicely highlighted in The Fires of Pompeii when the Doctor verbalizes his attitude that he is only comfortable acting against the Pyroviles once he learns that Earth itself is threatened. "Then the planet is at stake. Thank you, that's all I needed to know." Instead, here, all we have is an alien that happens to be bent on playing out a murder mystery in the tradition of Agatha Christie's novels. Psychotic and evil, yes, but planet-threatening, no. That would be against the point of this story because there's no lace for such a thing in the murder mystery. Which was one of the several failings of Voyage of the Damned, another exercise in genre-driven storytelling. That story was based around the conventions of a disaster movie, but unlike this story (and so like RTD's Doctor Who), it was for some reason necessary to throw in a groan-inducing mention that the nuclear storm drive would wipe out all life on Earth if it made impact. Thirteen million viewers rolled their eyes in disgusted unison. I don't know how likely this trend is to change with the upcoming regime change of Doctor Who, but I'm sure we can expect the world (if not the universe) to be at stake in the 2009 specials.

All in all, this attempt at genre parody works out quite well, and it's nice to have this sort of comedic episode lighten the mood between the emotionally heavy story that preceded it and the forthcoming two parter by the Grand Moff which promises to be as dark and terrifying as we'd hope.

Ten Little Niggles

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

I'm not a fan of Agatha Christie. I've never read one of her books, never encountered Poirot, never even played Cluedo. In fact, I have a profound dislike for Agatha based on an experience that I had when I was ten years old and which is seared indelibly on my memory.  When I was living in New Zealand my mother took me to the cinema to see Battlestar Galactica: The Movie (basically the first three episodes of the TV series stitched together to annoy George Lucas and fool international distributors) but thanks to some seriously bad public transport issues we missed the screening. And the only alternative was The Mirror Crack'd - another TV movie (well, this is New Zealand) starring Angela Lansbury and Tony Curtis, I think. All I really remember is seething through the whole thing with barely disguised anger, disappointment and contempt. Even back then I was pining for BSG.

As a result, I didn't bring any baggage with me to The Unicorn and the Wasp, and while I thought I'd miss all the references to her novels I'm happy to report that it was practically impossible not to identify these moments thanks to plenty of dialogue that felt completely unnatural and bent all out of shape; the lines "This is a Crooked House" and "Endless Night" may as well have been accompanied by characters waving copies of her books in the air. But it didn't bother me one little bit and it warms the cockles of my heart to imagine Gareth Roberts sitting in front of his computer chortling over at the sheer genius of his shoe-horned prose.

We should let Gareth pen one of these literary japes every year - just before all the serious stuff kicks in. I want to see the Doctor's adventures with Stephen King ("Don't just STAND there, CHRISTINE, CARRIE IT!"). See, it's a piece if piss. Perhaps the Doctor could be driving the truck that mysteriously knocks poor Steve down at the end. Moff? Call me.

Is it just me or does Vespiform sound like a brand of sanitary towels..?

However, the Man in the Brown Suit (damn it, he's got me doing it now) really excelled in this episode. Tennant seemed to relish the absurdity of the whole thing and his verbal diarrhea actually suited the story for a change. The poisoning scene was especially delightful. When The Prisoner was faced with a similar problem in The Girl Who Was Death he handled it with super-cool aplomb, whereas the 10th Doctor goes metal as he channels a drunken Lionel Blair. Brilliant. Without a doubt this has to be the funniest scene we've witnessed in Doctor Who since 1979. Unless you count Warriors of the Deep episode 3, of course.

I believe this episode was filmed first, and I'm just relieved that it was left until the middle of the run. If it had been transmitted any earlier I would probably be lambasting Tate for doing all the things I'd dreaded she do (snogging the Doctor, chewing the scenery with comedic moments like "E-NOR-MOUS!" and generally taking the piss) but I'm in love with her now, so I don't care.

I'd go so far to say I loved The Unicorn and the Wasp up to a point. It looked fantastic, the script was dripping with wit, the guest cast all shone in their all too brief moments, the CGI wasp was very impressive, and the reference to an Insane Computer that had enslaved Charlemagne was a delightful touch. Yes, dear reader, this was a jolly ripping page-turner that was simply spiffing on every level. Top-ho!

But then we reach the final 10 minutes and everything falls apart.

The revelation that Felicity Kendall had shagged an insect was quite enough for me...

The problem stems from Gareth Robert's determination to explain how Agatha could end up in one of her own murder mysteries. He even pokes fun at The Unquiet Dead, which, unless I'm mistaken, wasn't especially criticised for giving us Dickens at Christmas with ghosts when it was originally broadcast. Instead of just going with the whacky coincidence of Agatha embroiled in one of her own plots, Roberts tries to explain it with some supernatural mumbo-jumbo, and this is the point where you can actually hear the plot's gears grinding together until the wheels fall off. The explanation - that the alien somehow fuses its consciousness with Agatha because Felicity Kendall happens to be reading one of her novels at the time - simply beggars belief. When Agatha and the Vespiform (is it just me or does this sound like a brand of sanitary towels?) have their stand-off at the lake and the wasp somehow lets her go at the end (why? how? what?) it gets so ridiculous that credulity is stretched beyond its limits.

The revelation that Felicity Kendall had shagged an insect was quite enough for me - I didn't need to see this protracted nonsense just so they could explain a mystery that 99% of the population wouldn't have been aware of in the first place. And there was me thinking that ennui, heartbreak and introspection resulted in her mysterious sojourn in the winter of 1926. Turns out she was mind-wiped by a drowning wasp instead.

To make matters even worse, John Paul wasted no time in pointing out to me that the vicar turns into Bruce Forstyth just before he turns into the giant wasp and now it's impossible for me to watch the episode ever again. He loves nothing better than ruining this show for me, the ratfink bastard.

Events are rounded off with an insufferably smug coda whereby the Doctor reinforces just how bloody brilliant Agatha Christie is because people are still lapping up her formulaic nonsense in the year 5 gazillion, trillion. But what he fails to mention is that Terrance Dicks and Dan Brown continue to kick her ass in hardback sales.

Sadly, The Unicorn and the Wasp is one murder mystery where I found myself wishing that its final pages had been torn out...

Dead funny

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

Despite an otherwise tediously forensic examination of its every epigrammatic cough and spit, the one thing my English teacher neglected to mention when we read The Importance of Being Earnest at school was that it was meant to be a colossal piss-take. I think I might have enjoyed it a lot more if he’d let me in on that one.

No such worries about this week’s Doctor Who, though: Even a schoolboy as slow on the uptake as I was couldn’t have failed to notice The Unicorn and the Wasp was such a reverential parody of the works of Agatha Christie – and the country house murder mystery in general – it was in danger of meeting itself on the way out of the billiard room with the candelabra.

Being Doctor Who, of course, it went one further and made the loving element of homage the fulcrum on which the entire plot revolved – and even found time to chuck in a bit of meta-textural fluff about the show’s own blending of fact and fiction. (In fact, there are probably all sorts of tedious quasi-academic treatise to be written about the viewers’ complicity in this particular TV parlour game, so if you see anyone acting suspiciously in the vicinity of terms like fourth wall, post-structuralism or, indeed, meta-textural, you are advised to alert the appropriate authorities.)

In many ways, Gareth Roberts was on easy street here – chucking in a grab-bag of familiar tropes from even the sketchiest Christie primer was exactly what the project demanded and, ultimately, what gifted the episode so much of its charm. And, far from being mere window dressing, it’s the period trappings that prove crucial: Imagine, for a moment, that Pip and Jane Baker hadn’t been such ham-fisted hacks and had turned in a reasonable murder mystery pastiche for Terror of the Vervoids (I know, I know, but try); the fact it was set aboard a white plastic spaceship filled with people in casual 80s sportswear would still have damned it to being on the back foot when trying to present a satisfying whodunnit. But give us gramophones, sun-dappled lawns, mahogany trim and a pink gin and we’re up for anything, what what?

Ultimately, though, comedy episodes stand or fall by one criteria – was it funny? And The Unicorn and the Wasp was an absolute hoot. I watched it in extremely mixed company, ranging from casual fans to several Americans who had never seen the show before (“Which one’s Doctor Who?”) to the bloke who played the sax on Howard Jones’ Like To Get To Know You Well (don’t ask), and everyone laughed in all the right places the whole way through.

Tennant simply excels at this sort of light comedy, bounding from parlour to dining room to library dropping bon mots like cake crumbs and devouring Roberts’ witty wordplay with the relish of a Trappist monk who’s just been given leave to tell a particularly filthy joke.

It was obvious from the get-go that this was a script custom-built for David Tennant, and it’s impossible to imagine any other Doctor having quite the chutzpah to carry it off. Tennant simply excels at this sort of light comedy, bounding from parlour to dining room to library dropping bon mots like cake crumbs and devouring Roberts’ witty wordplay with the relish of a Trappist monk who’s just been given leave to tell a particularly filthy joke.

The poison sequence, in particular, must be a contender for the funniest scene in Doctor Who’s 45-year history, Tennant’s blustery exasperation (“Harvey Wallbanger?!?”) matched tic-for-tic by Catherine Tate’s boneyard dry sarcasm (“Oh, too much salt”). Tate’s Donna was also particularly suited to her role as the sleuthing Doctor’s plucky gel assistant, moving easily between girlish enthusiasm and a sort of withering Greek chorus (“Professor Peach. In the library. With the lead piping.”). She still can’t run in heels, though.

Elsewhere, the story’s parade of familiar archetypes were well served by a strong cast, including national treasure Felicity Kendal and fan treasure Christopher Benjamin. It was a shame the ensemble nature of the piece reduced most of the talent to little more than glorified cameos, but it was entirely appropriate that the one performer who really got a chance to shine was Fenella Woolgar as Christie herself. Previous sleb historicals have opted for a familiar name in the pivotal role, and the temptation to indulge in a spot of stunt casting (in an alternate dimension, there’s an issue of DWM with the quote “Tamzin Outhwaite is the busiest woman in Britain, so we were thrilled when she said yes!”) must have been strong, but Woolgar was just perfect; if anything, her chemistry with Tennant was even stronger than Tate’s – the scene in which she admonished him for enjoying himself too much was delightfully played by both actors, and I loved the mock reproach in her declaration: “Doctor, you are impossible.”

If you’re looking for the one major element that let The Unicorn and the Wasp down, the clue’s in the title – and it has nothing to do with jewel thieves or horny horses. There’s a certain stripe of Who fan, of which I count myself one, who would love to see the producers have the cojones to go monster-free occasionally but, hey, I’ve read the memo on keeping those damned kids’ happy, so I understand why this perfectly enjoyable time travel caper had to have a ruddy great Hymenoptera plonked in the middle of it. It’s just a pity the Vespiform couldn’t have taken the guise of something a bit more organically linked to the setting – a giant Victoria sponge, perhaps? Okay, maybe not. (The transformation effect, incidentally, was a spectacularly cheap affair – ask the actor to say “zzzzzz” while shining some coloured lights on him. But if you care about that sort of thing, you’re probably reading the wrong blog.)

There were other irritations: It wasn’t just the Doctor who was breezily cavalier about death (witness how quickly Lady Woolgar appeared to get over the death of her own son) but I guess, from Christie to Cleudo to Midsomer Murders, the genre has always worn its tragedies somewhat lightly. The sci-fi elements of the plot – alien wasp man absorbs works of Agatha Christie through a necklace, or some such bollocks – were also even flimsier than usual (and that's saying something). But what the heck. It might be ironic that, in a tribute to the first lady of plotting, the plot itself barely had time to simmer, let alone thicken, but with so many other giddy distractions on offer, it would be churlish to grumble too much. As a gay old treat to be enjoyed over a Mint Julep on an early summer’s evening, this was the cat’s pyjamas.

Vote Result: The Unicorn and the Wasp

Here are the results for the seventh blog poll, for The Unicorn and the Wasp:

• 83%: Superb - Sting in the tale
• 17%: Not Good - Buzz off!

The eighth Doctor Who poll, for Silence in the Library, will appear following the broadcast of the episode on 31 May.

Murder, She Wrote

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and The Wasp

Gareth Roberts is the Electronic Arts of Doctor Who tv writing.  Popular, populist, likeable - and barring a couple of new bells and whistles, turning out the same stuff year after year.  The Unicorn and the Wasp was the FIFA 08 to The Shakespeare Code’s FIFA 07 - not necessarily in content, but in tone, style, wit and approach.

Now there’s nothing particularly wrong with that.  The old series used to churn out celebrity pseudo-historicals in its sleep, and telefantasy’s Mark Gatiss set the style for the new format with The Unquiet Dead back in 2005.

Fenella Woolgar as Agatha Christie turned in a likeable, and wonderfully vulnerable performance as the spiky, heartbroken author but because of the nature of the part, it seemed written as Jessica Fletcher in a flapper dress, much as we had Shakespeare as Noel Gallagher in tights last year.

Gareth Roberts is the Electronic Arts of Doctor Who tv writing

We had a script packed with as many in-jokes, nods, winks and sneaky back references as polite society would allow.  For instance, Donna’s repeatedly handing of titles and plots to Christie echoed back to Will nicking the Doctor’s ideas last time around.

Hell, even the Doctor’s poisoning and kitchen-based bumming about looking for a cure was taken from Roberts’ own Eccleston-era comic strip for DWM about the Helping Hand organisation.

So, everything was in place for The Unicorn and The Wasp to be a hit.  A big, bold crowd-pleasing hit, that everyone - punters and fans alike - can join in with.   Except me.

Now, maybe it’s just because of my post-birthday, hitting 30 and feeling old hangover, but watching The Unicorn and the Wasp left me cold.  Perhaps it was the greatest hits package feeling.  Perhaps it was the sense of being led by the hand through a plot that seemed occasionally wafer thin.

But mostly I think it was because this just felt like it was there.  It felt like it was marking time.  There never felt like there was much at stake.  Just a murder in a country house.  Even the idea that Christie might die because time was in flux felt like a throwaway, something to try and ramp up the climax just a little bit more.  I suspect it isn’t.  In fact, we’ve had hint after hint recently that history can be manipulated far more than the show used to risk, and these references are never as casual as they appear.

It was a country house murder mystery that could ONLY have been written for Doctor Who

Peter Davison complained recently, on the DVD commentary for Black Orchid, that it was never his particular favourite, because it could have been any country house murder mystery, rather than something written for Doctor Who.  And he was right. 

The Unicorn and the Wasp was the other extreme.  It was a country house murder mystery that could ONLY have been written for Doctor Who.  Yet, like Davison, I couldn’t find myself being engaged by it.

The sting in the tail here is there’s nothing wrong with the episode.  It wasn’t a bad episode of Doctor Who in any respect  - and certainly not production wise.  It looked lovely.  The performances were universally good.  Graeme Harper’s direction was wonderfully understated and restrained.  The production design was sumptuous.  Even Murray Gold’s music was low key and atmospheric - though whether that was through design or someone not turning the volume up in the dub remains to be seen.

There was just something... missing.  For me, anyway. I’ve thought and thought about this.  I watched the episode live, I watched it on the train back home, I watched it again before sitting down to write this review.  And it just doesn’t connect with me.  I can’t even say why. 

I want to like The Unicorn and the Wasp, I really do.  It’s got some funny lines, it’s got a coherent-if-slight plot, nice visuals... but it’s like listening to Mull Historical Society.  I know they’re good.  I know why they’re good.  But I also know I fall asleep when I listen to them.  And The Unicorn and the Wasp just lacked that buzz.

Wasp's Nest

Hastings had an open face.  Poirot uncharacteristically rubbed the back of his neck.
“This is certainly not the kind of mystery I am most comfortable with.” he said. “When I was improbably ushered into the BBC by Scotland Yard to investigate the disappearances I thought this was as you say, an open and shut case.  However our adventure has grown far larger than my usual environs to encompass the entirety of London.  My provinces are not giant robots or the Loch Ness Monster, but they are yours Mr. Dicks.  You must think, think which heavenly species may be conducting this silent invasion!”
Terrance tapped his finger on his chin thoughtfully.  Then his eyes brightened with the pleasure of a realisation.
“It’s the Autons!” He said.

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

Doctor Who continues its cultural tourism with Agatha Christie.  As Voyage of the Damned, the other recent cross genre experiment demonstrated, you do have to be careful how you deploy the various tropes of each format otherwise one ends up canceling out the other.  In this case though, the two aren’t as unlike as they might at  first appear.  Murder mysteries have been an aspect of the franchise for decades, stories pinioned on an opening moment in which the Doctor steps out of the Tardis and within seconds tripping over a dead body, moments later tasking himself with discovering who the culprit is (often finding himself accused).  Isn’t that how Planet of the Ood began? 

More often than not that’s usually a precursor to some much larger story, but there have also been a fair share of proper whodunits, not least Horror of Fang Rock in which the bodies start piling up and the timelord doesn’t really work out what’s going on until the climax.  It would be improper not to mention The Chimes of Midnight too, in which the Doctor and Charley are very much the visiting detective and sidekick and although that spins off into murkier territory, again there’s the final revelatory twist and all of the archetypes of a Christie mystery, albeit downstairs, are present.  There’s also The Banquo Legacy told from the point of view of the would be investigator and cultpit with the Eighth Doctor and friends and the then current arc plot buzzing around.

As ever it’s the setting which changed in The Unicorn and the Wasp, the mode.  The production team succeeded in producing an episode with an atmosphere unlike most other Doctor Who and probably authentic enough that if you slapped it out on ITV3 on a Sunday afternoon with adverts for AXA Sun Alliance and the RSPCA every five minutes it would fit right in (with the exception of the ruddy great Wasp).  Which is more than can be said for Black Orchid.  The casting helped enormously here, with a assemblage which have already got, if not a Christie adaptation some kind of costume drama, on their CV.  Christopher Benjamin, the not so wheelchair bound Colonel Hugh, has seen the most action having dodged knives and bullets Campion, Maigret, Morse, Foyle’s War, Midsomer Murders and even Rosemary & Thyme.  Speaking of which, this was only Felicity Kendall’s second television acting job this century.  We’re honoured.

Campion, Maigret, Morse, Foyle’s War, Midsomer Murders and even Rosemary & Thyme

Undoubtedly and rightly the best element of the episode was Fenella Woolgar, an actress I’ve been following since Bright Young Things and who is criminally undervalued at a time when television and film set amongst the upper classes are out of favour, unless Kiera Knightley’s in the cast.  As we saw in that film and Jekyll, she has the capacity to go quite broad and cartoonesque, but here she offered a naturalistic characterisation counter pointing the near parody of the cat-in-headlights sheen of Kendall, sensitive and with the writer’s real life recent tragedy just simmering under the surface -- you could believe she had the capacity to write those books.  Woolgar’s chemistry with Tennant was delectable too – the pacing scene in particular showing the kind of trust and history which isn’t always apparent in television when two actors have only recently met at the read through. 

David was on top form here, bursting with energy and ideas and not at all looking tired which best will in the world he did a bit last week.  That’s possibly because oddly, despite being broadcast seventh it was the first episode the be shot of the series (in a block with the Ood) and I do think that reflected in Catherine’s performance, still exceptional but just now and then betraying moments in which she’d not quite decided how to pitch the episodic Donna who we’ve previously seen mellow quite a bit.  But her playing of the poison scene was priceless as were the reactions during the exposition scene.  Very clever idea from Gareth to have Donna treat the whole thing like she’s watching a movie.

The problem was that unlike those television Poirots and Marples it lacked the running time to really explore the premise and although you couldn’t justify making this story a two-parter in present circumstances, it’s the first in a long while which really suffered from not having the four episode structure of the original series.  To be a proper whodunit, the audience needed time to get to know the potential suspects.  Choosing archetypes helped, as did those hilarious flashbacks, but the final reveals in that long exposition scene (the likes of which we haven’t enjoyed since the Hartnell era) would have been more effective if we’d known more about the guests, foibles and red herrings included.  The Unicorn in particular was a missed opportunity, Felicity Jones’s bright performance suggesting a potentially far richer figure than the screen time allowed.

How delighted you were with the episode probably depended on how much you love Agatha Christie.  Roberts is clearly as much of the author’s work as Shakespeare, but unlike him and Frank it seems I’m almost totally unfamiliar with the canon, my only previous experience being snatched moments of Poirot and that episode of the new version of Marple with Sophia Myles and Paul McGann in an eye patch.  Not even the well rendered giant wasp meant that I didn’t help spending some of the time not quite getting the joke, realising that something really interesting was happening but that unless I go out and purposefully work my way through the author’s back catalogue I’m never really going to enjoy everything as much as I’d like.  Which is fine.  I’d be worried if Doctor Who appealed to me all of the time.

Perhaps I’ll dig out that tv adaptation of Sad Cyprus, at least.  Paul McGann’s in that too.

Next Week:  Another former Eastern Bloc country wins Eurovision.

Vicars And Tarts

Doctor Who: The Unicorn And The Wasp

Most people get quite uncomfortable when you ask to talk to them about class. After all, isn't class something you don't dare mention any more for fear of disturbing those long dissipated distinctions, the superiority and inferiority, between different social stratas?  One of the strongest aspects of the parodic nature of The Unicorn And The Wasp is the way it subverts, in that wonderfully Doctor Who/British way, the cliched image of the English country house bourgeoisie and their proletariat neighbours and servants. Donna's 'flapper or slapper?' enquiry pretty much indicates that this is Gosford Park with jokes.

Some rather laboured and interminable Agatha Christie in-jokes aside, Gareth Roberts layered script has allusions to, not only Felicity Kendall's own Indian upbringing and early career, but also to taboo-busting, inter-species sexual trysts between a big alien wasp and a young English woman, vicars who happen to be hybrids born out of wedlock admonishing punishment to church vandals, gay sons blatantly knocking off the younger male servants, and a Mockney jewel thief jumping the class divide by strangling her received pronunciation. Posh people's repression and umpteen skeletons in a vast country house, full of closets, with knobs on, then, as each of the Christie inspired characters turns on the victim/murderer and posh/commoner axes to avoid being revealed for what they essentially are. The gay couple who are closeted, the deb who can't reveal she's a vowel crunching jewel thief, the chair bound Colonel who can really walk and enjoys a bit of porn, Lady Eddison who had a child out of wedlock and finally Agatha Christie herself, running away from the fact that her husband is having an affair with another woman. It is ironic that at the conclusion of the episode the Doctor is sure that the events at the dinner party will never come to light because no one will actually want their true misdemeanours revealed.

...the 'gay agenda' does pale beside a vicar turning into a fucking great wasp from the result of a union between a woman and insect.

A quick word about the gay characters (stereotypes would be more appropriate, even?) as their inclusion will obviously get steam issuing out of the ears of certain fans. Look, it's a series executive produced by a gay man and written, in the main, by gay men. This sort of thing is bound to happen. And besides, it's a further, observational in-joke about the modern media's response to Christie's works, as they are endlessly reinterpreted by cinema and television. The film version of Evil Under The Sun is one of the gayest film experiences I can think of and the recent ITV Miss Marple plays the same game of shifting the Christie conventions. You could even interpret the story as anti-gay, if you so desired, as it kills off one gay character and then denies his lover the right to mourn, in much the same way so many films and television programmes have done so in the past and continue to do so in the present. No doubt some moaning minnie will say that it's not an accurate portrayal of gay men of the time and they wouldn't have openly flirted in such a way. The 1920s were actually very liberal times and gay night clubs and openly homosexual actors were part and parcel of urbanised society, so the Colonel's acknowledgement of his son's sexuality isn't as far fetched as it seems. Suffice it to say, the 'gay agenda' (as it is commonly known) does pale beside a vicar turning into a fucking great wasp from the result of a union between a woman and insect. It makes the sexual innuendo between two male characters seem charmingly normal, even more so in Roger Curbishley's flashback which does flag up the closeted nature of the affair whilst also cleverly celebrating it as perhaps the most normal relationship in the entire episode. And, yeah, I'm capable of laughing at the 'ginger beer' joke too, which more than indicates this is supposed to be fun rather than a dreary social commentary on gay repression in the 1920s.

...an homage to Christie gets very meta-textual when it posits the alien threat to the landed gentry, in carrying out its machinations, as its own homage to Christie's novels.

Gareth Roberts script plugs into all the wit and satire of his previous novels, particularly The English Way Of Death , and almost succeeds for the first half an hour to poke enormous fun at the detective fiction genre, fulfilling most of our expectations whilst turning some of those genre cliches inside out. An episode that's an homage to Christie gets very meta-textual when it posits the alien threat to the landed gentry, in carrying out its machinations, as its own homage to Christie's novels. It's a neat, funny idea, as is the sublime use of flashbacks where recollections, especially those of the Colonel, have sub-recollections of their own. He recounts his movements of the day, in the obligatory 'detective questions suspects' scene, but he then hilariously wanders off into a wet dream about can-can girls. Even the Doctor succumbs to a little reminiscence about an encounter with Charlemagne and a computer. Complete with wobbly dissolves and ubiquitous harp glissando, these flashbacks, the spinning newspapers, the nods to Cluedo (“Professor Peach? In the library? With the lead piping?”), are all part of the genre dressing and dissing that accompanies this kind of period drama Doctor Who style.

Where it goes somewhat astray is in the obvious recycling of certain elements from The Shakespeare Code and Tooth And Claw where we have the shameless but irritating naming of as many Christie books as possible and Donna inspiring the creation of Miss Marple and Murder On The Orient Express. These are simply a re-hash of the equally self-indulgent throwaway Shakespeare quotes from last year. The Doctor's wonderment at the Vespiform is also too similar to his reaction to the werewolf but I'm prepared to forgive Roberts that one over the re-use of the Doctor's admonishments to Donna's embarassing attempt to go all 'received pronunciation' on the lawn.

...the motorcar chase, going all of 10 miles per hour, isn't exactly The Sweeney and doesn't quite come off.

After half an hour of parody and pastiche, expertly played and delivered it has to be said, it all comes crashing to a halt with the lightning flooded dinner scene, which resembles something out of Neil Simon's Murder By Death (perhaps more influential on this episode than even Gosford Park). The unveiling of the vicar as the culprit goes on rather too long, despite the lovely joke of the 'innocent' Colonel standing up to be counted when he should be sitting. It does unravel further with the then rushed conclusion, complete with a huge info dump, as Lady Eddison is reunited with her long lost son who then promptly turns into a wasp and chases after Christie who has in the meantime sussed out his link with the firestone gem. Donna spends the entire scene as if she's playing Cluedo very badly and the script rather overplays her supposedly funny interruptions as each suspect is interrogated. The rather clunky explanation for the Vespiform's obsession with the Christie books is a bit wince inducing at this point and the motorcar chase, going all of 10 miles per hour, isn't exactly The Sweeney and doesn't quite come off. It's then all rather hurriedly and again, clumsily, resolved by Christie chucking the gem into a lake, drowning the Vespiform and then conveniently losing her memory so that the episode can tie in with her real-life disappearance. It does strain the episode to breaking point to try and use all those elements and properly resolve the mystery. The best that can be said is that as a whole it is all very self-contained and therefore the plot isn't actually a great deal of importance here. It is simply an exercise to provide a Doctor Who explanation for Agatha's amnesia whilst, for the most part, successfully taking the piss out of the conventions of the genre.

Fenella Woolgar pretty much steals the episode with her fragile little turn as Agatha and she's got a great supporting cast too, especially in Felicity Kendall and the slightly underused Christopher Benjamin. Catherine Tate, Tom Goodman-Hill and Felicity Jones are perhaps the only ones here who get a bit of finger wagging for their off kilter performances. Goodman-Hill threatens to break into a a full rendition of Wire's I Am The Fly in his transformation sequences (or is that an homage to Timothy West in Anglia's low-rent version of Dahl's Royal Jelly ?) whilst Jones' Mockney 'it's a fair cop' moment probably means she couldn't be Nancy if she tried. Tate, meanwhile, is for the most part extremely funny and clearly shows what an asset to the show she is, but as this is one of the first episodes to be made she does tend to veer off into sounding too much like her comedy characters in some scenes. Her performance is over-heated at times but I'd put that pretty much down to enthusiasm and finding her feet. However, her leading man is both irritating - the long drawn out meeting with Agatha on the lawn punctuated by those now over-familiar, and continual, withdrawals of 'well...' after each faux compliment is dragged out again - and yet wonderful - the Give Us A Clue double act between him and Tate as she tries to help counteract the poisoning is another superb example of the comic repartee between the two actors that was established so well in Partners In Crime.

...as a 'celebrity historical' this really didn't need the conventional Doctor Who alien thrills and spills

The Mill's box of tricks embellishes the proceedings with a smashingly effective CGI giant wasp and we have a lovely matte painting to support Lady Eddison's reverie about India that is simply the visual icing on the cake.  Graeme Harper is right on the game until that last ten minutes where his editing and directing doesn't help to oil the grinding wheels of so much endless exposition and so little action. The car chase, as indicated earlier, is a bit perfunctory and not up to the strengths he obviously displays in the first 30 minutes where his Robert Altman meets English farce notion display his control of the actors and his panache with visuals and camera moves. In fact, I'd go as far to say that as a 'celebrity historical' this really didn't need the conventional Doctor Who alien thrills and spills to dovetail the delightfully, riotous mix of Christie's life and fiction with the upending of detective genre tropes. The Doctor Who bits tend to get in the way and it would be satisfying if just once this kind of story was simply about the historical events and the people affected by them without recourse to SF conceits like giant wasps, Carrionites and Gelth.

Now, excuse me. After such an entertaining episode, I'm off to the Ambassador's reception.

Who Did It

The Doctor Who News Page reports that unofficial overnight figures show that The Unicorn and the Wasp got 7.7 million viewers (a 36.1% share) and won its timeslot against All Star Mr & Mrs (which was watched by 5.7 million poor deluded souls).