Thoughts on: The Stolen Earth / Journey’s End

What a show. I’d forgotten how incredible the Series 4 finale was, and I’m happy to admit I was thoroughly blown away upon this rewatch. Russell T Davies upped the ante to full blast and delivered the most magnitudinous story yet, the stakes higher than they’ve ever been before or possibly since, and a great, walloping belter of a script to go with it. It was simply epic. This was RTD’s magnum opus, even, I daresay, outshining the magnificent Series 1 finale, or at the very least matching it. It simply had everything: Daleks, Davros, the end of the universe, every possible character from the preceding four years you could ever have wanted brought back, Rose, and two (three?) Doctors. Admittedly, there was a great deal of nonsense in there—something on this scale is bound to have a bit of nonsense—but somehow even the nonsense came together with everything to produce one of RTD’s most memorable stories of all.

The Earth has moved. That was the ingenious and jaw-dropping plot point established at the outset of The Stolen Earth. It wasn’t only the characters who were left in awe as the sky congested with heavenly bodies. It soon becomes clear, of course, that this was the Daleks’ doing. A chill ran down my spine when I heard that Dalek battle cry: “Exterminate!”. The dread and tears in the eyes of Martha, Jack and Sarah-Jane as the Dalek mantra played out over the recording expressed more than words could. We, the viewers, having seen the Doctor defeat the Daleks so many times now have become desensitised to the threat of the Daleks, but the terror the Daleks truly are capable of inducing was so powerfully conveyed in this scene that the threat became real. Say what you want about the Daleks’ being reused too much, but scenes like this show that the producers know how to keep them scary. This was particularly brought home to me when we were shown scenes of the Daleks destroying the city and murdering civilians—perhaps for the first time in the revival we were shown the true, terrible destructive power of the Daleks. And then Davros showed up, as creepy and gruesome as ever, and that’s when it became obvious that sh*t was getting real.

There was a very bleak, gloomy little sequence where it looked like all had been lost, that everyone had given up without a fight. Sarah-Jane, and Captain Jack and Torchwood were all resigned to the end. “I’m sorry. We’re dead,” said Jack, utterly broken. Sarah-Jane was hugging and weeping for her boy. The United Nations had surrendered Earth to the Daleks. The Doctor stood in grim silence as Donna begged him vainly to do something. It was intense, somber viewing. But then the familiar, irritating voice of Harriet Jones, former Prime Minister (okay, okay, you know…), cut in and an optimistic ray of hope glinted through the black clouds. She began mobilising the Doctor’s old allies and friends, and I felt more affection for her then than ever before. As the Doctor’s allies began moving to get in contact with him, it was obvious what a profound influence the Doctor has had on each of these people. I was somewhat reminded of Dumbledore’s Army from Harry Potter, those loyal to the Doctor holding out and mobilising a resistance in his name, following his example… Needless to say, Harriet Jones went out with nobility when she sacrificed herself to ensure the Subwave signal reached the Doctor. The Doctor would have been proud.

It was painful watching Rose’s frustration that she was unable to speak to the Doctor when the Doctor finally made contact with his Army. Nevertheless, that made their eventual reunion in person all the more moving. Rose and the Doctor’s reunion was truly stirring. I came as close as I ever have to tearing up watching Doctor Who. This being Who, though, there had to be a catch, and that cockblocking Dalek set up one killer of a cliffhanger. A triple-pronger, involving Sarah-Jane and Donna’s parents separately about to be exterminated by Daleks, and the Doctor regenerating, surely that was the best cliffhanger this show has ever done? I remember being in agony after watching that when this episode was first broadcast. I’m sure everyone was. The siphoning of the Doctor’s regeneration energy into his spare hand, his “bio-matching receptacle” was clever, but it was a bit of a waste of a regeneration on the part of RTD, all for a good cliffhanger. But, God, it was a good cliffhanger.

We meet the Daleks and the TARDIS and Donna are deposited into the molten core of the Crucible. Enter the Meta-Crisis Doctor, growing out of the Doctor’s glowing, regeneration energy-saturated hand. I think we were all as shocked as Donna was. Many disparage the Meta-Crisis Doctor as an absurd product of creative excess on RTD’s part, a character dreamed up just to give Rose a happy ending (implicitly spoiling her “perfect” ending in the Series 2 finale), and I can see where such criticisms are coming from, but… yeah, I don’t know how to justify my liking of the creation of the Meta-Doctor and my overlooking all the continuity issues it created other than to say that I just found the Meta-Doctor an awesome plot device in this story. I was grinning from ear to ear when the Meta-Doctor appeared, starkers, and slightly raving, and saved Donna and the TARDIS at the last second. I also thought it was awesome when all seemed lost, the Reality Bomb about to be detonated, and the TARDIS, radiating with celestial light, appeared in the Daleks’ midst. “Brilliant”, as Jack said, about sums it up. RTD, in typical fashion, though, gave us hope and then cruelly snatched it away. Usually this would be the point where the day is saved, but this is RTD we’re talking about, who revels in the cruelly unexpected. This is the man who, in Voyage of the Damned, made the Doctor promise to all the characters that he would save them, and then proceeded to kill off all of them except the most disagreeable one. It was never going to be that predictable.

I want to take a moment to talk about the way this story commented upon the Doctor’s character. Davros observed piercingly that, though the Doctor renounces violence and refuses to carry a weapon, the way he fights is perhaps even more sinister: he conscripts his companions and fashions them into weapons to do the bloody business he won’t do. He keeps his hands clean while his companions, his foot-soldiers, bloody theirs in his name and on his behalf. He changes his companions, makes them into murderers. This is a constant trope running through Doctor Who; it’s one of the integral functions of the companion: the Doctor can’t be seen to be engaging in violence, so the companion carries out what violence needs to be committed. Only now has this pattern ever actually been commented on onscreen and shown to be a reflection of the Doctor’s character, of the sinister effect of the Doctor’s influence and of the genuinely disturbing manipulativeness of the Doctor. That the Doctor manipulates and influences his companions into potentially committing genocide (and actually committing genocide—remember Rose as the Bad Wolf?) perhaps makes him even more sinister than if he were to do it himself. Davros about summed it up: “The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you yourself.” The Doctor’s soul was laid bare, and I, at least, found it captivating and compelling viewing—disturbing, yes, but still captivating.

I loved the Doctor-Donna resolution. I found it really exhilarating and just awesome. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t grin broadly the first time they watched Donna wiggling those controls and prattling off incomprehensible techno-babble to stop the detonation and make sock-puppets of the Daleks. Some hate it. I adore it. I know it’s ridiculous nonsense and a total deus ex machina cop-out if there ever was one—the idea that Donna’s humanity made her even more brilliant than the Doctor when she absorbed the Doctor’s mind was particularly ridiculous—but I just found it a wonderfully ecstatic resolution. I’m more than willing to overlook the admittedly absurd “walking plot resolution created purely by chance” that was Doctor-Donna, as one reviewer described it, because of how much I enjoyed watching that. I found it satisfying and fulfilling, and that scene, more than any other, made me love Donna. Meta-Doctor’s annihilation of the Daleks was also a very confronting moment, and Davros’s hysterical denunciation of the Doctor as “Destroyer of Worlds” was chillingly powerful, an uncharacteristically dark note amidst the jubilant resolution.

The sight of the Doctor(s) and all his companions and friends bringing the Earth back home was ecstatic and heartwarming, a tribute not only to all the characters and actors who contributed to the RTD era, but an exultant tribute to companionship and working together. It was a lovely, beautiful scene, the Doctor surrounded by all the people whose lives he’s touched and who love him. What a striking contrast it was only a short time later, after the Doctor had seen all his companions off, and he stood in the TARDIS, alone again. Saying farewell to Donna must have been particularly agonising for him. It was agonising enough to watch. It was heartbreaking watching Donna plead with the Doctor not to send her back, not to turn her back into how she was. She knew, more than anyone, that she was better for having been with the Doctor, which made it all the more tragic that she had to lose it all, everything she’d been and done, and go back to how she was. Oh, Donna, you didn’t deserve this. RTD really knows how to tug the heartstrings.

To summarise my disjointed review, I thought this finale was spectacular. Absolutely spectacular. I only write this much for a review when I think the story truly merits it—the last time I wrote this much was for Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways, which was also an amazing finale. It ended on a poignant note, setting up the “farewell tour” that would be the specials year, culminating in the Tenth Doctor’s magnificent swan song, The End of Time. For now, though, I thought RTD ended his last series as Doctor Who’s showrunner on a lustrous high, this finale the gleaming culmination of a fantastic series in general. Bravo.

Rating: 10/10.

Thoughts on: Army of Ghosts / Doomsday

I’m finding it hard to organise my thoughts about this story in a way that will lend itself to a coherent review because of how emotionally devastated that ending has left me. But bear with me, I’ll endeavour to put my thoughts into some kind of sensible form.

I’m somewhat unimpressed with the decision to portray yet another large-scale alien invasion of 21st Century Earth, as I mentioned in my last review of Fear Her. “Relevance” is one thing, but this is getting ridiculous. The history of the Earth of the Doctor Who universe would detail a dizzying succession of alien invasions and interventions within the space of a few years in the 21st Century—all thanks to Russell T Davies. At least Davies had the sense to portray the Earth’s authorities as having had the initiative to formulate some sort of defensive measures in Torchwood. That said, I wasn’t necessarily as bothered about this as I otherwise would have been, as the story was so good. The much-awaited revelation of Torchwood, by the way, wasn’t particularly well carried out. Hints and teasers about Torcwhood were being dropped all series, but the eventual revelation was almost understated. I was expecting something bigger and more grand, but it all just seemed like a fairly nondescript operation. I realise Doctor Who doesn’t exactly have the budget to do things on as big a scale as I would like, but surely the producers could see that Torchwood looked like they were conducting their highly-sensitive and dangerous operations out of a converted factory?

Both the apparition of the Cybermen and the Daleks was done well. The former was impressive and imposing, the latter a genuine, dreadful shock. A prospective Dalek vs. Cyberman face-off was one of those long-awaited events, and, although in some respects it was awesome, in others it was a bit of a disappointment. The banter between the Daleks and the Cybermen was genuinely brilliant:

Cyberman: “Our species are similar, though your design is inelegant.”
Dalek: “Daleks have no concept of elegance.”
Cyberman: “This is obvious.”

…

Cyberleader: “Daleks, be warned. You have declared war upon the Cybermen.”
Dalek: “This is not war. This is pest control.”
Cyberleader: “We have five million Cybermen. How many are you?”
Dalek: “Four.”
Cyberleader: “You would destroy the Cybermen with four Daleks?”
Dalek: “We would destroy the Cybermen with one Dalek. You are superior in only one respect.”
Cyberleader: “What is that?”
Dalek: “You are better at dying.”

Classic. I am somewhat disappointed, however, both by how easily the Daleks were able to defeat the Cybermen and by the lack of a large scale battle between the two species. We’re talking about the second most dangerous species in the universe (as Doctor Who has always portrayed), and not only did they not even dent the Daleks, but they were felled effortlessly by the latter. Way to make the Cybermen seem like pushovers… Further, although there was a decent battle scene in the Torchwood tower, I feel like the opportunity to stage a large-scale battle between the Daleks and the Cybermen was squandered, although I’ll concede that budgetary concerns may have had something to do with that. The Daleks were portrayed very well in this story—if only the same commitment had been given to the Cybermen. Why bring them back in such spectacular fashion in Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel if they’re going to be demoted to the status of “most feared and dangerous villains in the universe when the Daleks aren’t around (in which case they’ll get walloped)”?

I thought David Tennant’s performance was absolutely magisterial. I can see that he’s truly made the role his own as he’s a much more commanding and magnetic presence than he was in his debut, in The Christmas Invasion. He truly exerts his presence in every moment he has onscreen in this story, from beginning to end. There really isn’t a moment when he isn’t in masterful control of the role, even in the relatively mundane sequences. I thought his confrontation with the Daleks in the Void Ship room was probably his best performance yet. Not overstated, as he’s been earlier in the series, but positively captivating; hair-raising. You really got a sense that this was the Doctor of legend we were seeing, the Doctor who sends the Dalek legions fleeing without firing a shot. This is how to write the Doctor.

“Technology using the one thing a Dalek can’t do. Touch. Sealed inside your casing. Not feeling anything ever, from birth to death, locked inside a cold metal cage. Completely alone. That explains your voice. No wonder you scream.”

Billie Piper was outstanding in her final outing. From that poignant poetic opening to her teary farewell, she delivered a moving and highly admirable performance. Rose herself was fantastic in her last time saving the world. The moment when she confronted the Daleks after they had emerged from the Void Ships to save herself and the others, was brave and amazing. That she had the guts and the initiative to do so showed how far she’s come from the shop girl she was in Rose, how much she’s been changed by her life with the Doctor, how much she’s become like the Doctor.

Then there was that ending, that parting of the ways. Oh, God, that was heartwrenching. I think Doctor Who just came close to emotionally traumatising me. I cannot find words with which to praise the performances of both Piper and Tennant as they were forced apart. Billie Piper, in particular, mustered up a truly agonising portrayal of Rose’s pain of separation that left me close to tears. Surely that must be the saddest, most affecting goodbye in the show’s history? In any case, it was some truly outstanding acting on the part of Billie Piper in her last moments as a Doctor Who companion, and a spectacularly touching farewell for the first, and most fondly remembered, companion of the revived series.

I would have given this a rating of 8, which in my terms means “great but not quite brilliant”, but the respective performances of Tennant and Piper raise it to a 9 in my estimation. They really were the gleaming highlight of this story.

Rating: 9/10.

Review: Children of Earth

This is the first time I’ve felt compelled to write a review about a Torchwood story. That’s because Torchwood: Children of Earth was utterly astounding. It is easily the best thing to come out of the Torchwood franchise (that I’ve seen), and quite possibly the best thing to come out of the post-2005 Doctor Who revival. This, readers, is how to do sci-fi drama. Perhaps it was the condensing of Series 3 of Torchwood into 5 episodes that allowed them to pull off this feat of a screen production, something that was, at the time, seen as a “punishment” for Torchwood, but I’d much rather have these five amazing episodes than the usual 13 episodes of mediocrity interspersed with the odd triumph (sorry, but, at least for Series 1 and 2, it’s true).

In terms of plot, Children of Earth started slowly — as to be expected when a single story is spread over 5 hours — but not so slowly as not to seriously pique my interest. The moment when the children first stood still, as if in a collective trance, and in freaky unison spoke “We are coming”, was genuinely chilling. Jack’s recovery from being ripped to shreds by the detonation of a bomb inside him was also quite awesome. The real action didn’t start until episode 3, however, when the 456 arrived in London. I have to admit, for the last three episodes (I watched episodes 3-5 in one sitting), I felt quite sick in the stomach. Children of Earth took a truly dark turn upon the arrival of the 456, wading into bleak waters both exhilarating and disturbing. The revelation of what the 456 wanted, and for what purpose, was truly horrifying — as was the gruesome vision of the husk of a child connected to the beast. Thus the uneasy feeling in my bowel region. Perhaps just as nauseating was the willingness of the government to comply with the 456’s repulsive demand, a comment, perhaps, on the kind of people who are able to rise to such positions of power. It was all carried out perfectly, inducing exactly the response — disgust and outrage — in the audience that it was going for. It was truly fluent and effective writing, acting and production all-round.

A number of significant themes are discussed in Children of Earth. As already stated, there is the commentary on power and those who hold it. To watch the discussions in the Cabinet room, to watch these people po-facedly discuss the best way to round up and give away 325,000 children into, effectively, perpetual slavery, is to think one is witnessing a nightmare. The comment is that these people are not like you and I. They’re the kind of people who will give the order to wrest hundreds of thousands of children from their mothers’ and fathers’ arms in order to give them into slavery. They’re the kind of people who rule us. Also commented upon was the possible, and quite probable, reality of alien contact with Earth. In Children of Earth, the 456 came to Earth not to trade with humanity, or enlighten it, or learn from it, or co-operate with it, but to viciously exploit it. Such is a comment on the fact that, if and when alien contact with Earth happens, it might be more like Children of Earth than we’d want to imagine. It’s easy to forget that the system of morality we in the West take for granted is essentially a legacy of Judaeo-Christian culture, and Christianity in particular, and that outside this historical culture things as simple as seeing your fellow man, not just your family, as deserving of the rights and dignity of a fellow human being, are alien — thus the prevalence of slavery throughout human history, including in the “enlightened” civilisations of Greece and Rome. It is quite probable that, if and when contact is made with an alien civilisation, it will want to exploit us, not co-operate with us — the point made disturbingly in Children of Earth.

It was a fair question for Gwen to ask, “Where is the Doctor?” The answer she satisfied herself with, that the Doctor must look away with shame at humanity, given its actions in this crisis, is sufficient, one supposes (I’d be interested in seeing this incident mentioned in Doctor Who). I’m not critiquing the resolution to this epic story, which contributed to some profound character development, and revelation, on Jack’s part. However, I think a more effective ending might have been to involve the Doctor in a very subtle way. Just let me indulge my offensively presumptuous “I think I could do better than the writer” impulse for a moment. I think it might have been more effective, with humanity at its knees, caught between total extermination and giving one tenth of its children into slavery, for their salvation to be delivered by the Doctor: millions of children across the world are about to be taken, but the 456 suddenly disappear with an almighty screech and a blast, the dark clouds clear, and Jack looks into the skies to see a blue box fading away… The dust settling, humanity would be at the same time overjoyed at their sudden salvation, but also horrified upon reflecting on what they almost did. Or whatever; criticise away.

I want to put in a final word of praise for Peter Capaldi as Frobisher. The part of Frobisher was superlatively written, and superbly played by Capaldi. As Frobisher (never mind as the Doctor), Capaldi really shows himself to be one of the best actors of his generation. It was gut-wrenching to see Frobisher’s reaction as he realised what the Prime Minister was asking him to do in the final episode: a really heartbreaking moral dilemma one would never, ever want to be placed in. Frobisher’s resolution was entirely understandable. It really was brilliant writing and moving acting.

In sum, an absolute triumph.

Rating: 10/10.

What I’ve been watching: Dec 2014

A rundown of the shows (non Doctor Who) that have been taking up my time of late: Sherlock Holmes, The Legend of Korra and Torchwood.

Sherlock Holmes (Granada)

Since I’ve recently discovered BBC’s Sherlock, I decided to revisit the classic Granada adaptation of the Sherlock Holmes stories featuring Jeremy Brett. I’d seen a number of these on television a few years ago and noted then what masterful adaptions they were (prompting me to start reading the Sherlock Holmes stories themselves), thoroughly gripping and well-composed.

Although I think my 21st Century tastes prefer the modern Sherlock series to the more faithful Granada series, these more reverent adaptations of Conan-Doyle’s works are nevertheless very much accessible to modern viewers. Jeremy Brett’s portrayal of Holmes is superlative and utterly magnetic. To me, it is Brett’s acting that makes the series. It is patent that Brett is supremely in his element playing this iconic and singular character, and even the duller and less imaginative stories are alighted by the genius of Brett’s acting.

I’d go as far as to say Brett’s Holmes is an even more compelling and watchable portrayal of the character than Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, although one can confidently say that Brett’s Holmes would not work in a modern adaptation of the character; Brett’s Holmes is a peculiarly Victorian character, a man very much of his times — which, of course, only adds to the period magic of the show. Like Cumberbatch’s Sherlock, Brett’s Holmes is an unabashed eccentric, and arrogant about his own abilities; he has sociopathic tendencies, and one gets the impression that he’s a creature of pure intellect, something more than a normal human being. Unlike Cumberbatch’s portrayal, though, Brett’s Holmes seems to understand how normal humans are supposed to relate to each other, but nevertheless regards himself above such trivialities: Holmes never gives the impression of being vulnerable, which certainly adds to the mystery of the character. One thing conspicuously missing from Brett’s portrayal of the character in relation to Cumberbatch’s is those orgasmic displays of Holmes’ deductive prowess to which Cumberbatch’s Sherlock is prone. Brett’s Holmes gives small glimpses, teases, to lesser minds of his intricate intellectual processes, but never shows off like Cumberbatch’s character does.

The Granada Sherlock Holmes adaptations convey the drama and tension of the stories very well. They do the more peculiar cases (e.g. The Solitary Cyclist, The Dancing Men) very well, and have a way of pulling the viewer into the plot and the mystery without particularly special visuals beyond the period elements. Although I’ve only seen the first two series thus far, from those I’ve seen, I would recommend The Dancing Men, The Solitary Cyclist, The Speckled Band, The Copper Beeches and The Resident Patient.

The Legend of Korra

The Legend of Korra, the sequel to one of my favourite ever series, Avatar: The Last Airbender, is currently nearing the end of its final season (Book 4). For those that don’t know, Avatar and Korra are set in a fictional world composed of four nations corresponding with the four elements: the Fire, Air, Water and Earth nations. Certain members of these nations possess special powers to “bend” the elements of their respective nations, while there is one figure, the Avatar, who is possessed of the power to bend all elements, and whose obligations as Avatar include maintaining the balance between the nations, as well as between the physical and spirit worlds. In the original Avatar series, the airbending Air Nomad, Aang, was the Avatar, who, having woken from a 100-year sleep trapped in an iceberg, returned to a world at the knees of a warmongering Fire Nation.

Korra is set in the Avatar world after Aang’s death, and the young and headstrong Korra of the southern water tribe is the new Avatar. The Avatar world has changed since Aang’s salad days fighting the Fire Lord, where a new “nation” has arisen in the former Fire Nation colonies in (former) Earth Kingdom territory: the United Republic (with its capital and dominant location of the stories, the Manhattan-like Republic City), an agglomeration of peoples of all nations and none. Unlike Avatar, in Korra there is no unifying plotline that runs throughout the entire series, but different adversaries and conflicts for the Avatar to deal with in each season (Book), other than Korra’s own coming-of-age and self-realisation as a mature Avatar.

While I have only good things to say about Avatar, Korra has suffered from its fair share of deficiencies. The lack of a unifying plotline, while not the writers’ fault, fails to maintain the viewer’s interest in the series as Korra’s adventures become ever more repetitive. The plot in Avatar — Aang’s preparation as the Avatar to fight the Fire Lord — was, on the face of it, not that imaginative or well-conceived compared to at least two of the Korra plots (Books 3 and 4), but it was so well executed, and given such space to breathe and develop (as well as supported by such brilliant characters), that it looms large in the viewer’s mind over all of the even greater threats faced by Korra, which seem almost transitory compared to Aang’s conflict with the Fire Lord. In addition, the surfeit of characters sees too many characters receive too little development as the viewer has difficulty in paying attention to such a large cast, and the writers in maintaining so many characters, and consequently the viewer struggles to properly invest in any of the characters beyond the lead, Korra. By contrast, Avatar had a small, tight-knit cast of well-defined, beloved characters who were each given plenty of space for quality development.

To be sure, Korra is, on the whole, quality viewing, especially if you are already invested in the Avatar universe and want to know what happened after Aang. But I can see the reason Nickelodeon took the decision partway through Book 3 to make Korra an online-only programme and to discontinue the programme after Book 4 (not that I agree with that decision).

Torchwood

I’m surprised I haven’t got round to watching Torchwood before now, having been a Who fan for so long (and having adored the character of Captain Jack Harkness). I’ve recently finished watching the first season of Torchwood, and I return a positive, but not unmarred review. I very much like the concept: a secret organisation dedicated to investigating extraterrestrial incidents and developing technologies to “arm the human race” against what lurks beyond (although, honestly, I think it slightly redundant since there is already a similar, better-resourced organisation in UNIT, which could easily carry out Torchwood’s functions).

Torchwood has a cast of interesting, but not necessarily likable characters. The only truly likable character is the female lead, Gwen Cooper, and even she has a questionable morality. Other than Gwen (and Captain Jack of course), none of the characters are really the kind of people you’d choose to become friends with: they are all morally ambiguous and not very sociable. Despite this, they are compelling characters who are convincing as the staff of an organisation like Torchwood. Captain Jack Harkness is a charismatic leader, as well as a mystery, to his “employees” at Torchwood: at first Gwen is the only one who knows of Jack’s immortality, as she sees him murdered and return to life in the first episode. He remains an enigmatic character throughout the first series until his Christ-like sacrifice in the series finale.

Torchwood has its good moments and its bad moments. I’ve only seen series 1, so I expect what I’ve seen thus far is the show trying to find its way, experimenting. The show is best when it’s not trying to copy Doctor Who’s formula of fighting aliens. Torchwood is at its best when it is trying something different, and dealing with heavy themes. The episodes I’ve enjoyed most include: Countrycide, a horror story dealing with the inherent evil in humans; Greeks Bearing Gifts, concerning the ramifications of being able to read others’ minds; They Keep Killing Suzie, about resurrection of the dead; and Out of Time, involving three people from the 1950s brought inexplicably into the 21st Century. There were also a couple of misfires, including Cyberwoman and the retch-inducing Random Shoes.

While I enjoy Torchwood’s readiness to deal with heavy and controversial themes, being beaten senseless with Russell T. Davies’ political agenda became very annoying after a while. I understand that Davies is using Torchwood to promote LGBT issues, but there comes a point where the constant barrage of anti-heteronormativity becomes OTT and feels like it’s being shoved down one’s throat. It seems like every character is bisexual, which is obviously unrealistic (particularly as it’s Wales), and by the time I got to Captain Jack Harkness snogging Captain Jack Harkness in Captain Jack Harkness, I could only roll my eyes in exasperation. Being prone to irrational religious superstition as I am, the show’s overt atheism also bugs me a bit, but I’m not overly bothered by that — it’s to be expected with science fiction — I just wish it would avoid the aggressive “religion is all bullsh*t” stuff.

Although the early episodes of Torchwood‘s first season were shaky and failed to grip me, the show found its feet by the end and sufficiently whetted my appetite such that I’m excited to return for the second series. I hope Torchwood continues doing what it does right, and learns from its mistakes.