Doctor Who:

Aka when happens when Stephen Moffat looks at the last decade or so of movies having a go at Superman, thinking "nah!" and "I want to do a Golden Age Superman story, dammit! And a Superman/Doctor Who crossover!", and proceding to do just that. ("Miss Schuster and Miss Siegel": I see what you did there, Moff.) The result is the most Moffatian thing that ever Moffated (seriously: Doctor makes child friend, proceeds to involuntarily influence/mess up/yet ultimately improve child's existence, Doctor having a high regard for babies, check, Doctor and child having quirky adorable scenes, check (not for nothing did RTD once write to the Moff that he's awesome with children), check, determined girl/ life long adoring and crushing caretaker guy, check, ( more spoilery trope ), check, River Song-Doctor relationship continuity impact, check, otoh Doctor behaves ooc at one point so plot can continue as planned, check (see also the crack matter in s5 and not looking for the little girl anymore after the start of s6).

Also a downside: setting the story in an extremely white contemporary New York where ( something we don't miss at all about Golden Age narratives happens ).

The result is a story which does indeed do Clark Kent/Superman and Lois Lane far better than many a recent big screen effort. And I do appreciate the direct continuity to last year's The Husbands of River Song. Otoh, said direct continuity makes it even more obvious last year's was the far better Doctor Who story. In conclusion, I wasn't bored, it's very very Stephen Moffat, but I don't think I'll have any urge to rewatch.

Call the Midwife: Early on I was a bit sceptical whether "let's do a Christmas special that's set in 1962 South Africa is in any ways a good idea, because obvious white savior trope danger in Apartheid country is obvious, but it turns out they pulled it off, at least imo. Our gang was gradually made aware of the every day rottenness of the apartheid situation, and they didn't solve it, but the story wasn't about their enlightenment, either. It was about them doing what they always do in difficult circumstances, and in some cases succeeding, but not in all. ( More spoilery details follow )

In conclusion: very much enjoyed this one. And now back to Darth Real Life; from now on, I'll have to drastically reduce my fannish life for a month or so in his service, so safe for some more Yuletide talk, you won't be hearing much from me until February.

With Doctor Who everywhere for the anniversary, literally on a global level, it's perhaps easy to lose sight of the fact that in 2005, when the show was relaunched, it was by no means guaranteed it would find a new audience. Especially considering the previous attempt to bring back Doctor Who - the movie of doom - had failed miserably. And the treatment the BBC had given the show during the 80s before cancelling it had been extremely shoddy. Now fandom and critics alike credit a lot of factors for the fact that the Russell T. Davies launched revival took off the way it did - the casting of Christopher Eccleston as the Ninth Doctor, the way the scripts were careful to be accessible both to people who never ever heard of Doctor Who and old time fans alike, Bilie Piper as Rose - but RTD's eventuall successor at the helm seems to be firmly convinced that one key factor that made New Who into the success it became was the fact new Companion Rose did not come on her lonesome into Doctor Who, but with her mother, and with her relationship with her mother treated as an important part of the narrative. Quoth Steven Moffat:


"Russell, with his incredible knowledge of all modern television - because as far as I can see he does nothing except watch television! - he knows exactly how to fit this show in. The creation of the Tyler family, and positioning the Doctor as the 'troublesome relative' - which is what he is, he's the worrying uncle or family friend who turns up after a long while and takes the daughter away - that is so brilliant, it's a brilliant bit of writing. (...) Russell's writing is at such a high level... there's a line in the first episode which you could lecture on, it's so brilliant. It's in a conversation between Rose and Jackie - Rose says something about getting a job at a butcher's, and Jackie says 'It will be good for you. That shop was giving you airs and graces'. And in that one line, I submit, there isn't anything you don't know about these two people, or about that life, or about that world. You know everything about limited ambition, about the relationship between the two of them, about the envy and the crushing absence of horizons. It's a phenomenal bit of writing."

(There is a passage later in the same interview that's both funny in the light of recent developments and illuminating, particularly given fandom's tendency to play out Moffat versus Davies - something the two of them never did, because as far as anyone can tell, they seem to be in a mutual admiration society, stubbornly refusing to do their respective fans the favour of feuding; Moffat gets asked how he would have handled the relaunch, if he'd been in charge of New Who from the start. Whereupon he replies: "I'd have done a certain number of things exactly the same. I would definitely have got rid of the Time Lords, that was an overdue lopping-off; I would have got rid of the posh Doctor, all that stuff. The thing that I can't put my hand on my heart and say 'I'd have done that' about was the whole Tyler family thing, which is what makes it brilliant.")

Davies himself, in the collection of emails amd memos that became the book The Writer's Tale, says after discussing an autobiographical scene from Queer as Folk (the overdose in the kitchen): "But I have to write like that. Funny, sad, all at once. That's how life is. You can have a pratfall at a funeral. You can laugh so much that you choke to death. (...) Jackie Tyler makes us laugh, but I knew that I'd uncover something sad at the heart of her. Her sadness over her absent daughter is there as early as Aliens of London, but you don't really get to see it properly until Love & Monsters. Idiots will say, 'Ah, that character is developing now' - what, like you were going to play it all in the first 30 seconds? - but that capacity was always there. It had to be. Even in Rose, when Jackie is ostensibly 'funny', telling her daughter to get a job at the butcher's, Jackie is one of the things that's holding Rose back - and that's quite dark, at it heart. 'Funny' is hiding a lot of other stuff."

Fannish sympathy for Jackie and Rose switched places, as I recall. During their first season, there were a lot of comments on Jackie being annoying. During the second season, when Rose lost a lot of sympathies, she was called an ungrateful daughter in addition to everything else, which sometimes came with the added complaint of "Rose Tyler: Class Traitor". Now back then I thought it was time for Rose to leave the show and I liked Jackie, but I never thought their relationship could be divided into black and white, one party eternally the giving and the other the taking, or in the right and in the wrong respectively. And yes, the mother-daughter relationship and the way it was used in the show was interesting to me. To stay on the Doylist level for a bit longer before getting into Watsonian arguments, have another Moff-on-Rusty/Rusty-on-Moff quote:

"Russell reckons it’s all about parenthood with me. It’s his view that every writer has one story that they go on re-telling and that being a father is mine."

(In The Writer's Tale, there is a great exchange of emails between Davies and Moffat when they realised Moffat's two Library episodes and Davies' Turn Left would be aired directly after another - this was later changed so Midnight came in between - which meant Donna would be stuck in two alternate realities in a row. So they had to make sure the two alternate lives for Donna didn't resemble each other, which was why Davies, who had originally given her a marriage and children in Turn Left, altered his script to write them out, telling Moffat who'd offered to do the same: "Ooh, no, that's brilliant. You have the kids. You've got kids! You do better kids!" )

I can see what he means, of sorts. Which got me thinking, because Davies' writing includes a lot of family relationships as well, including three key mother-daughter relationships - but one big difference is that it's not children in the sense of infants who interest him in this. Rather, it's parent-child relationships (and sibling relationships) after the children have already grown up. How adults relate to their parents (more often or not their mothers) and vice versa. This can happen in an extremely dysfunctional way (Donna and Sylvia) or in a mostly harmonious way (Martha and Francine); Rose and Jackie are solidly in between. (Not by coincidence, the moment Davies starts to write for Torchwood again - which he didn't after writing the pilot, he left the day to day helming to Chris Chibnall for the first two seasons - you get family relationships between adults suddenly front and center of the emotional narrative in Children of Earth: Jack and his daughter Alice, Ianto and his sister Rhiannon (and his brother-in-law). Scenes like Rhiannon bringing the laptop to her on the run brother and her support of him intermingled with a terse exchange about their childhood and father are very clearly from the same brain that wrote the Rose-Jackie-Mickey scene in Parting of the Ways. ) The way family can get under your skin for good or ill, the intermingling of the need to escape and the need to be close, the emotional power a family member can have to compell you to do things even though you're both adults, those are aspects that Davies' writing keeps coming back to, and he certainly put it front and center with Jackie and Rose. They love each other deeply; they're also capable of hurting each other, not deliberately, but they do. Rose with her absences and her tendency to take Jackie for granted; Jackie with the fear that the airs and graces comment betrays, the idea that Rose having a better job could mean Rose moving out of her life, so if keeping Rose means seeing Rose lose chances, so be it. There is a self centredness in them both. And yet they're also capable of so much more. Jackie ends up participating in saving the world business (and putting up with the Doctor) with great courage, and when the chips, no pun with Rose's favourite food intended, come down she helps her daughter even if that could mean losing her. For Rose, not returning to her mother through her adventures is not an option. She doesn't idealize Jackie the way she does the dead father she didn't know (until time travel strikes), but Jackie is the one she always comes back to. Her horror when eventually encountering an Alternate Universe version of Jackie who doesn't know her and hence has no love for her and disdains her is palpable. And while I have some quibbles with the way Rose's storyline ended (and then kept on not ending), what I most definitely approve of is having Jackie with her daughter in the Zeppelin world. Never mind the Doctor, I can't imagine Jackie and Rose being separated forever by alternate dimensions.

Jackie and Rose weren't the first mother and daughter relationship on Doctor Who involving a Companion to matter narratively; I think that honour belongs to Ace, who has really huge Mommy issues and then gets confronted with a baby version of her mother in Curse of Fenris. But other than in baby form, we never meet Ace's mother. She never gets a life and opinions on her own. Whereas Jackie Tyler, no matter whether you love her or find her irritating, absolutely blazes with life and very much has her own point of view on just about everything. (And starts the proud New Who tradition of mothers slapping the Doctor.) I can't imagine the Whoverse without her.

I am very pleased Judi Dench just got nominated for a BAFTA for her work as M in Skyfall, though confused about the category, because what do you mean, "supporting"? Clearly M was the leading female. :)

In other news, I was all set on writing a parable on how utterly annoying it is that you can't have an internet conversation about anything Stephen Moffat has ever written, the good, the bad, the mixed, without either of two things happening, though usually both: (a) an RTD swipe (this independent of whether or not the comment on a Moffatian oeuvre has anything to do with Doctor Who; I swear, even if the topic should be a school essay the Moff wrote at age 14 on the topic of Scottish independence, someone will interject "oh, this reminds me that Russell T. Davies discriminated against all Scots by making David Tennant talk Mockney instead of letting him use his own accent") and/or (b) someone bringing up the infamous 2002 or thereabouts Moffat interview of all-women-want-to-marry fame which which has dodged him ever since. (Cue the usual "Moffat sexist"/ "Rusty even more sexist"/ "Moffat the evilest"/ "No, RTD the most vile" blabhahblah.) However, my attempts at thinly disguised metaphor employing a tale of apples and oranges and how nice it would be if once, just once, we could discuss apple juice without a snide "oh, BUT THERE WAS THAT TIME WHEN ORANGE JUICE RUINED MY TROUSERS" aside were interrupted and completely abandoned by discovering an absolutely charming Moffat interview. The key to the charm lies in the fact he's being interviewed by his son, who is reading questions to him which fans have send to the son's YouTube channel. As Moffat Junior is an adorable kid (and newly converted Star Trek fan!), this cunning strategy means the practice of the above mentioned tiresome exchange is utterly absent from the questions. Also the Moff gets to be an Old Who fanboy, discuss whether or not the Doctor is a fundamentally happier person than Sherlock Holmes, out himself as a bad conjuror of magic tricks and be generally a good dad. Now if you've followed my ramblings for a while, you know I am anything but uncritical towards Mr. M., but I confess myself charmed nonetheless. Have a gander:

Well, mostly. But in truth, the international edition of the BBC iplayer put Moffat's series Jekyll online and since I had forgotten what annoyed me about the pilot (which was all I had watched before) back in the day, other than James Nesbitt antipathy which I knew could be handled as since then, I had liked him in other roles, I decided to give it another ago. And lo and behold, the result turned out to be the first Moffat series I actually love.

Steven Moffat & self so far:

- RTD era DW eps: nifty and brilliant. Loved Girl in the Fireplace and Blink, like Empty Child and Library two parters; probably love Library now belatedly on stronger feeling for River account
- Coupling: tried the first four eps, couldn't quite see the point, gave it up
- Moff era DW: I have individual episode love and am tremendously entertained most of the time (except by iDaleks and stupid pirates, argghhh), frustrated by occasional laziness by someone who is supposed to be a brilliant plotter (no, I'm not getting over that crack thing in s5 and little girl unsought in s6 any time soon, and generally feel in like, not on love, which means generally far less angst and thus great relaxation during viewing (due to lack of emotional investment which is a double edged sword)
- Sherlock: quite why this is supposed to be a brilliant show is beyond me. First season has a good pilot with flaws, an awful middle ep and a so-so third ep. Also I couldn't stand Sherlock himself in all three eps, which is a drawback to my viewing enjoyment. Second season had a good opener with flaws, a boring middle ep, and a good final ep (things are looking up!), plus I had come around to sympathy for the main character in two eps, which is definitely a plus. So basically it's entertaining, but if it gets cancelled tomorrow (which it won't be, what with the raging success), there would be no tears from me.

So, what made Jekyll, now that I've watched it in its entirety, the first Moffat series (as opposed to individual episodes) that I can love wholeheartedly?

( Find out beneath the cut )

As I won't get to watch the new Fringe until the 21st or thereabouts, have some links collected over the last week referring to other interests instead:

Sherlock and Doctor Who:
A Scandal in Fandom: Stephen Moffat, Irene Adler and the fannish gaze: probably the best post on the matter I've read so far, blessedly unpolemical, and great with putting everything in context. Very good to read both if you've liked A Scandal in Belgravia (which I did), or if it made you add another item on your personal "I hate Moffat" list. I especially appreciate what the essayist points out about the original Irene (in Doyle's story) versus how she lives in the fannish consciousness, because I tend to fall into the trap of misrememberance there as well.


19th century English literature:

Bronte-saurus: one of those posts that make me nodd and say, "me, too". For all that I appreciate Austen, I love the Brontes, and their fantasy role play obsessed childhood.

T.E. Lawrence:

Lawrence' sexuality: the 2012 edition: a post in which the still hotly debated matter of Lawrence's sexuality is written about with far more insight and grace than your avarage biographer manages.


When fandoms collide, Take #4355:

Karen Gillan interview about her upcoming role as model Jean Shrimpton in in We'll Take Manhattan, which by the sounds of it is about David Bailey's (= most famous photographer of Swinging London, young padawans) big breakthrough as a photographer in 1962. Quoth the article:

We'll Take Manhattan is a portrait of a photogenic love affair, but lit with flashes of class anxiety and period misogyny. While Shrimpton is portrayed as a beguiling ingénue, a muse who says little but looks great, Bailey (played by Aneurin Barnard) is the domineering, hostile "artist", who shouts threateningly at women, uses Shrimpton and forgets his wife. I'll say it – Bailey comes off like a bit of a dick, doesn't he?

To which I say: how is this news? Not if you've ever read an interview with David Bailey during the last 50 or so years. (Or watched Blow Up; the photographer in it is famously based on Bailey.) He's sublimely gifted without a doubt, but prone to come up with such charming statements as the one in this interview: People say I seduced a lot of women, which makes me very immature. Well, what does that make the women I seduced? Or boastings like the one in this article:

'I remember Jean Shrimpton,' says Jane. 'She was lovely.'
'I remember her well, dear,' chortles Bailey. 'In every position!'

Of course, if like me you're somewhat invested in a certain group from Liverpool, you come across David Bailey also in the context of a legendary 1965 photo session where he only wanted to photograph John Lennon originally as he wasn't interested in the rest of the Beatles (and, rumour has it, was very interested in John indeed), was told John wanted to be photographed with Paul and ended up shooting smouldering-with-something portraits. (The only other time when John did a session with him was with Yoko at his side in 1969. You had it coming, Bailey, you had it coming.)

Since I have a few new people on my flist, let me repeat last year's pimping of In the Bleak Midwinter as one of my favourite Christmas movies. Directed and written by Kenneth Branagh but not starring him, about a Christmas production of Hamlet in the provinces, featuring the usual Branagh suspects as the ensemble, witty and despite stern competition of some of the "big" productions not only my not so secret favourite among KB's films but possibly my favourite take on Hamlet (meaning the play-within-a-film scenes). (Well, except for the Tennant/Stewart RSC stage production.)


Dexter:

Excellent season 5 meta by abigail_n, talking about both the good and the extremely bothersome.


Merlin:

Seeing a Gwen-bashing secret at fandomsecrets (wouldn't you know it, she's despicable for moving on to Arthur after having kissed Lancelot) wasn't exactly a surprise but annoyed me nonetheless, especially some of the agreeing comments along the lines of how they love season 1 Gwen because she wasn't in the way of their pairing of choice yet because she was "so badass" (?) and in s3 supposedly was a wimp. And that they miss her friendship with Merlin. Now I love Gwen in all the seasons, but this argument clearly comes from an alternate universe. Not this one, where s3 Gwen was more a part of the central storylines and stronger than in any of the previous seasons (just compare her awesome confrontation with Uther in s3 with the s1 one), and if you missed all those adorable BFF scenes of her and Merlin together, you must have been deaf and blind. Thankfully, that exposure to Gwen hatred was offset by finding a delightful pic spam/meta on Gwen in s3, here and part 2, specifically about Gwen's relationship with Morgana, here.

Lastly, spotted while surfing: two Scots being adorable. The Moff teases David Tennant of falling back on his real (i.e. Scottish) accent when losing the text in this part of the audio commentary to Silence in the Library, and does a creditable DT impression while he's at it: