Doctor Who
Like turkey,
presents, Christmas trees and heavy drinking before midday being socially
acceptable the Doctor Who Christmas special has become something of a
tradition. Indeed this year, faced with a new flat, the catalyst for getting a TV and a TV licence was
the unacceptability of missing said Christmas special. So, full of Christmas
dinner, I settled down to watch it. And was disappointed.
I’m a
fair-to-middling Whovian. I’ve seen every episode since Christopher Eccleston
took control of the TARDIS, but not necessarily as they were aired and not
always in the right order. There have been some fantastic ones and some ok-ish
ones and some that I wish didn’t exist. But the Christmas ones are usually a
pretty safe bet. It being Matt Smith’s last episode and our first proper
glimpse of Peter Capaldi as the Doctor (aside from a teasing glimpse of his
steely gaze in the 50th anniversary episode) only seemed to add to a
sense that it couldn’t really go wrong.
The biggest
problem was probably that it didn’t have a plot. There were glimpses of plot,
cheeky little suggestions of a story, but then they were dropped like a bit of
left over turkey by a full family dog. The flimsy story line was that the
Doctor finds himself stranded in a town called Christmas where you can’t
lie. The exact nature of how it came to be that you couldn’t lie, or indeed any
details of Christmas itself, were left out. The Doctor was stranded because
someone was whispering ‘Doctor Who’ through time and the Timelords might be
coming back but every other race was waiting for them. If the Doctor revealed
himself there was the possibility of started another time war. There was
potential there but nothing, literally nothing,
was properly explored. There was no solid reason given for anything. Overseeing
all this was a strangely named Church of the Papal Mainframe and a high priest
who had the potential to be interesting but again was given no back story or
character exploration. It felt like a string of half baked ideas held together
by not very much at all.
Steven
Moffat also once again demonstrated admirably that he cannot write decent female
characters. The two main women (Clara and the high priest) just simpered over
the Doctor, acting all lovelorn and shooting jealous glances at each other. The
misogynistic streak in Moffat’s writing has already been gone into in great detail by others so I’ll leave you to peruse that at your leisure but I would
have thought for a Christmas episode he would at least have made a bit of an
effort.
There was
also a clumsy attempt at an emotional ending akin to David Tennant’s final
moments (which still makes me tear up) that had a child Amy running around the
TARDIS and a brief return by Karen Gillan (who was given, rather graciously, a
grand total of one line, and a pointless jealous look from Clara). It felt
cheap and like a last ditch attempt to get an emotional reaction from an
audience that had probably mostly fallen asleep. My Mum certainly had. Coupled
with regeneration used as a weapon for no easily discernible reason even the
finale failed miserably. Possibly because there was precisely zero dramatic
tension even towards the end of the episode.
Then Capaldi
finally showed up, yelled about his kidneys and made me smile for the first
time in an hour.
Matt Smith
was a decent Doctor following, in my view, an impossibly brilliant turn by
David Tennant. I enjoyed how he played the role and had a great part in many a
memorable episode. I felt he deserved a better final episode than this one. It
was also a great pity after how fantastic The
Day of the Doctor, the 50th anniversary episode, was. I hope
he’ll be remembered more for his performance in that. With regards to the
future I think Capali will be an interesting contrast to Smith’s Doctor and I’m
really looking forward to his stint. I just hope 2013’s Christmas episode gets
canned so badly they finally give Moffat the boot and Capaldi gets some decent
writers worthy of his talent as an actor.
Downton Abbey
After the
fiasco that was Doctor Who I needed some soothing, so Downton Abbey was the
obvious route to take. I enjoy how little the series asks of itself. The story
lines are mostly gentle, the witty one liners from Maggie Smith’s Dowager
Countess are endlessly entertaining, and it’s always fun to take bets on who
will be killed off in the Christmas episode. Downton’s greatest asset is how
comforting it is. My partner only needs to see that golden lab’s backside at
the start of the credits to feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
The plot was
simple and easy to follow. Young niece Rose has reached womanhood and is
presented to the King and Queen. While down in London they are privy to some
dubious actions by the Prince of Wales and they must act quickly in order to
avoid a scandal. Cue plottings of burglaries, poker games used as distractions
and valets being asked to forge notes to butlers. It’s all quite ridiculous,
but watchable and easy going. There was nothing really dramatic this time
round, and it wasn’t really distinguishable from a regular series episode,
which was a bit of a let down after the shockers at the end of the previous two
Christmas specials.
There were
still the old reliables though. Thomas is still conniving. Tom Branson still
looks a bit lost. The Dowager and Mrs Crawley are still winding each other up
despite how obviously they like each other, and Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson are
still sharing tender moments that melt your heart like fondue. The only
interruption in the lavender scented world is a passing comment about ‘brown
shirted toughs’ in Munich. There’s something almost impressive about the
ability to make Nazis sound quaint.
Downton is
not a documentary, but there’s still a part of me that’s interested in how
different life was only a hundred years ago. A life of debutantes and balls and
complex hierarchies within the servants is fascinating and this is probably the
root of a lot of the charm period dramas have for me. I especially enjoyed the
little contrasts in American and European politeness which may have possibly
even had a shred of historical accuracy about it. You know it’s not real, but
it’s fun to imagine people living such different lives. This is not ground
breaking telly, but there probably is nothing better on offer for Christmas Day evening.
Death Comes to Pemberley
By the time
Boxing Day rolled around I was ready for even more period drama. I have to
admit that I’ve never gotten to the end of one of Jane Austen’s books (I get
bogged down in the language) but I very much enjoyed that adaptation of Pride and Prejudice and I’m always up for a
murder mystery so I thought I’d give this three part drama a go.
Set a few
years after the end of Pride and Prejudice, Death Comes to Pemberley finds
Elizabeth and Mr Darcy happily wed and living in the Darcy’s beautiful
Derbyshire mansion. It’s the day before a great society ball and Elizabeth
seems to be happily occupied preparing for it. That, however, wouldn’t make very
interesting telly and the peace is soon shattered by a murder in Pemberley
woods. The only suspect is Mr Whickham, the dastardly cad from Pride and
Prejudice who is married to Elizabeth’s younger sister, Lydia.
The first
episode set up the scene nicely both by reminding those familiar with the
original story of the characters and relationships and building the tension
around the murder. It’s also extremely well cast (Darcy is still dark and
brooding, Elizabeth is still kind and unexpectedly funny). There are also some
wonderfully Austen-esque witty moments that link it back neatly with the
original novel. I know I can’t speak for the true Austen fans, but I don’t
think there’s anything outrageous enough to cause offence in this sequel.As well as keeping things in the Austen spirit the drama also manages to create the atmosphere of a good, solid murder mystery. There’s intricate little sub plots involving Darcy and Whickham’s childhood and scenes of eighteenth century crime investigation involving the brilliant Trevor Eve as local magistrate Hardcastle. The filmography was also spot on with moody, foggy shots of Pemberley woods and clues glimpsed from behind half closed doors. The addition of a ghost terrifying the servants also adds a delightful spot of gothic to proceedings. This is seriously classy stuff that I’m sure Austen would have thoroughly enjoyed.
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