Posts Tagged With: eleventh doctor

Have I Got Whos For You (part 76)

There is no God Is In The Detail post this week, folks. I’m sorry. I really can’t spare the time.

However, here’s some alternative artwork for episode 11, ‘World Enough And Time’ – and yes, the BBC acknowledged that it was a deliberate homage to ‘Day of the Doctor’, but I wondered what would happen if you combined them:

Elsewhere, this recently discovered deleted scene from ‘Forest of the Dead’ goes a long way towards closing up some narrative loopholes.

Talking of Nardole, the inspiration for that costume, when you look at it, is obvious.

Anyway: while I was doing all this, my eight-year-old removed the front from his Yoda torch, and inadvertently turned it into Alpha Centauri.

Normal business resumes next week.

Categories: Have I Got Whos For You | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

God is in the detail (10-08)

Hail, brethren! The Monks may be gone, but do not weep, even though you have full cause of weeping. We shall discard the ephemeral and the propaganda and dig through the contents of ‘The Lie of the Land’ until we find THE TRUTH THAT IS HIDDEN. Because, as you all know by now, each episode of Doctor Who is replete with VERY IMPORTANT THINGS THAT WILL COME BACK LATER ON IN THE SERIES.

First, let’s look at a map.

You will note the cross, showing us the location of the Monks’ lair. In real world terms this translates to the Guildhall, marked below.

The connections here link back to none other than the Eleventh Doctor – by way of C.S. Lewis. First, note that the Guildhall is bordered by Gresham Street – referring to C.S. Lewis’ wife, Joy Gresham. Things become even more complicated when we consider the namesake Guildhall & Barrow Surgery in Bury St. Edmunds – referring both to Edmund Pevensie, core character in Lewis’ Narnia books, and also chapter eight of Fellowship of the Ring, ‘Fog on the Barrow Downs’ – written by J.R.R. Tolkien, friend of Lewis.

(As a brief aside, namesakes also figure elsewhere: Simon and Marek, the authors of The Scientific Secrets of Doctor Who, appeared at the Guildhall Arts Centre, Grantham, on 22 September 2016. There is no obvious connection here except that 22 September is Billie Piper’s birthday. Why do I mention this? Just keep reading.)

Also note brief references to the Fourth and Tenth Doctors (Little Britain, top left, just above Postman’s Park; also Noble Street, a couple of blocks to the right). But the largest green space is occupied by the Festival Gardens…just below Paternoster Row.

We’ll just let that sink in for a moment.

This is all linked with Matt Smith, then. But why? Well, you’ll find out later. But in the meantime, here’s the interior of the Doctor’s office, on board the prison hulk.

First, examine the shelves: two racks, with four separate compartments on each. The decorative bottles are thus situated on compartments 1 and 9, thus referring to both Hartnell and Eccleston. Note also the appearance of said bottles: the first is cylindrical, a CLEAR AND DIRECT reference to the shape of the undisguised Type 40 TARDIS that Hartnell’s incarnation is seen pilfering in ‘The Name of the Doctor’, and the bubble-shaped appearance of the Ninth Doctor’s bottle, referring to the time-locked, self-contained war that he can no longer access.

Just out of shot: a bottle in slot 14. Ooh, Moffat, you TEASE.

Note also the statue of the Monk, pointing directly at the black box on the wall by the doorway: itself positioned horizontally above (and apart from) the bottles, and therefore connected with them without being directly aligned. It’s almost as if we’re looking for an alternate Doctor, who favours black.

Finally: Black and White guardians – long overdue for a return, and THIS IMAGE CONFIRMS IT’S HAPPENING! The switch is black, the bottles are white: that’s your first clue. But there’s more to it than that. Consider the contents of the Doctor’s desk: the book, the pen and the telephone.

A brief Google finds instructions on a craft website titled Chicaandjo for an upcycling activity that enables you to recycle a phone book into a pen organizer. I’ll say that again: recycle a PHONE BOOK into a PEN organizer.

So what? I hear you ask. Well, note the date on this entry: 24 February 2009. Ostensibly an unimportant day in the Whovian calendar, except that it happens to be the thirtieth anniversary of the Black Guardian’s first appearance, at the end of ‘The Armageddon Factor’ – part six of which was broadcast on 24 February 1979. Get ready, folks. An epic cosmic clash is coming.

Let’s move on and look at that radar.

This is, as you’d probably gathered, about the First Doctor. The position of the blip on the radar – at one o’clock – is testament enough, as is the fact that north is angled in the same direction on the compass. But that compass deserves special attention, chiefly because of the numbers that surround it – increments of 30, rising from 0 to 360.

But that’s surely just degrees, isn’t it? Well, not if you translate them into episode numbers:

30 The Aztecs: The Day of Darkness (Part 4)
60 The Web Planet: Escape to Danger (Part 3)
90 The Daleks’ Master Plan: The Nightmare Begins (Part 1)
120 The Savages: Part 3
150 The Moonbase: Part 3
180 The Ice Warriors: Part 2
210 The Dominators: Part 2
240 The Space Pirates: Part 4
270 The Ambassadors of Death: Part 7
300 The Daemons: Part 3
330 The Three Doctors: Part 2

Now: watch what happens when we notate the FIRST line of dialogue from each episode.

“Open this, Ixta. Ixta, please. Please open it.”
“The Doctor’s speaking to someone. Why can’t we hear what he’s saying?”
“He has a very strange sickness. Can you not help him?”
“Five point one. Zero. Five point six. Zero. Six point one. Zero. Six point seven. Zero. Seven point one. Zero.”
“Stand back. Stand back from that door.”
“Jamie!”
“Bring them inside.”
“Oh, Doctor, are you all right?”
“What are you doing?”
“Hold this!”
“Steady now, Sergeant. He knows what he’s doing. At least I hope he does.”

Which should tell you all you need to know, shouldn’t it?

Incidentally we did a little non-destructive testing on the numbers referenced in the Savages episode, but there is no significance in them. Even I have my limits.

Finally, here’s Nardole’s hand, resting on that map.

First and foremost, we need to examine the hulk’s equidistance between Orkney and Shetland, and the fact that Northlink Ferries runs a service between them operating out of Aberdeen, WHICH IS WHERE THE FOURTH DOCTOR DROPPED SARAH JANE AT THE END OF THE HAND OF FEAR. However, things get even more interesting when we examine two of the other marked places on Nardole’s map, notably Bergen and Stavanger: two cities approximately 124 miles apart.

This relates – as you’ve probably twigged – to the end of ‘Doomsday’, specifically the scene in which Rose explains that Dårlig Ulv-Stranden – or Bad Wolf Bay, as we call it – is located “about fifty miles out of Bergen”, ROUGHLY EQUIDISTANT BETWEEN THESE TWO POINTS. In other words (and you may find it helpful to look at the image again) if you head due east from here, you’ll bump into it.

Can I also point out that we heard this courtesy of Rose, and that I’VE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT BILLIE PIPER?

Now watch what happens when we add a line from the approximate position of Bad Wolf Bay to Aberdeen, connecting it to the ones that Nardole has already drawn. And tell me if a particular item of neckwear doesn’t instantly jump out at you.

We knew they were cool. We just didn’t know they were so important.

Categories: God is in the Detail | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

God is in the detail (10-04)

It’s all about the Eleventh Doctor again this week, folks. They invited us to ‘Knock Knock’ – and we did, but when the door opened it revealed not an army of carnivorous insects but a plethora of secrets and revelations about the hidden details in this week’s episodes. Let’s unpack them, shall we?

Consider this view of the second property Bill and her friends visit:

The three visible towers refer explicitly to the trilateral Time Lord group formed at the conclusion of ‘Journey’s End’, whereby the Doctor, the Human Doctor and the Doctor-Donna work together to defeat the Daleks. (The one at the back is Jack, but I really can’t tell you what he’s thinking right now.)

However, there are numerous references to the Eleventh Doctor. Note the fez-coloured comfy chair that sits in front of the skip, as well as the two upturned traffic cones, a CLEAR AND UNAMBIGUOUS REFERENCE to ‘The Lodger’ – an episode already referenced earlier with the undersized house that Bill’s posse rejects earlier in the opening montage. Lastly note the partially visible ‘TO LET’ sign, bottom left: read backwards, ‘TELO’ clearly translates into ‘The ELeventh hOur’.

Let’s move on and examine the kitchen.

There are eleven visible plates: note, however, that the last one is only partially shown. Hence it does not apply to the Eleventh Doctor, but rather the half-human metacrisis Doctor mentioned earlier. Meanwhile, the teacups hanging above refer to UNIT: the group of three collected together recalls the scene at the end of ‘Day of the Doctor’ where the three Doctors (and Clara, just off to the right) gather in the Under-Gallery for a cup of tea before disappearing in their respective TARDISes; note, however, that they are situated between the second and fourth mugs, thereby referring to the period of the show in which UNIT played its biggest role.

Things get even more interesting when we look at Harry’s T-shirt: it’s already well-documented that he is the grandson of UNIT doctor Harry Sullivan (although the explicitness of the connection was deleted from the episode), but it is clear that the black patch on his t-shirt refers to the Black Archive, while the silver around his neck refers to the failed Cyber invasion of 1968. But the Cybermen references are more specific than this: the silver hangs equidistant between Harry’s blue and black wristbands, which stand as a reference to this news story from early 2015:

The colour of the dress was, you will recall, frequently mistaken for white and gold, thus referring both to the snow featured in the Cybermen’s first story and the allergy to gold that would kill them later. You can’t argue with the facts – it’s there in black and white / gold / blue.

You’re all good at counting shadows: count the woodlice.

There are 24, all told – a number bathed in significance, given that it’s 11 (11!) shy of the 35 species native to the British Isles. However, the question of whether there are 24 is actually rather ambiguous: a second count reveals 23, and it’s then that things become interesting. In order to explain why, we need to examine taxonomy: specifically, the taxonomy of Trichoniscoides saeroeensis in 1923 – a distinctively coloured woodlouse distributed around the British and Irish coasts (although it may also be found in France and parts of Scandinavia). Crucially, Trichoniscoides saeroeensis can be rearranged to form ‘ethions ironside accessories’, WHICH CLEARLY REFERS TO ‘VICTORY OF THE DALEKS’.

Also note the use of a Polaroid camera: ‘The Tenth Planet’, the first story to feature the Cybermen, was set at the South Pole. The Doctor can be seen to be gripping the picture with the index fingers of both hands, but note that the middle finger on his left hand is centred on the exact middle, implying an initial split and eventual reconciliation of…two poles? No, two planets – specifically Mondas, Earth’s twin, the imminent reappearance of which was a key theme of ‘The Tenth Planet’. If you think this is too much of a stretch, consider the facts: Polaroid was founded by Edwin H. Land, born in Bridgeport, Connecticut (both words synonymous with joining together), and was the son of a scrap metal merchant named Harry.

We move next to this shot of the exterior of the Estate Agent.

Geography is the thing here. Redcliffe Lettings is the name of the company that Bill and her friends visit – but the scene was actually filmed at Moginie James, 12 Sneyd Street, Cardiff CF11 9DL. From this we derive the Twelfth Doctor (address), who will shortly be joining forces with the Eleventh (postcode). The clue for this is in the letters DL, which stand for Dimension Lengthwise – an ISO paper size that is typically used for envelopes, but which in this instance involves the Doctor travelling backwards along his own timeline (or forwards, depending on where you start).

A history lesson: Tunstall is a parish in Shropshire, and it was from the nearby hamlet of Sneyd that the family Sneyd took its name. Doctor Who was filmed in Shropshire in 1985’s ‘The Mark of the Rani’, which saw the Master and Rani team up for the first time. Conclusions? MISSY IS NOT THE MASTER, AND SHE WILL BE TEAMING UP WITH JOHN SIMM IN A STORY ABOUT CO-PARENTING A BABY DINOSAUR.

Oh, and just as an aside? Moginie James can be arranged to form ‘JEAN, MI EGOISM’, which is as straight up a reference to John Simm’s Master as you’re likely to get in mangled French.

But there’s more. The use of this location is actually a reference to stars and constellations – a key theme both of the aforementioned human metacrisis episodes (‘The Stolen Earth’, in which they were going out) and an important story for the Eleventh Doctor (‘The Big Bang’, in which they supposedly never existed). Hence we can UNAMBIGUOUSLY CONCLUDE that stars will be the theme of this year’s series finale.

To explain this we must look at another t-shirt, Bill’s this time – which, as you’ll see (scroll up. I’ll wait), has French fries on the front. In order to obtain French Fries, one must visit McDonald’s (other fast food outlets are available, but McDonald’s is Scottish, as is Peter Capaldi) – and there are two optimum routes to the nearest McDonald’s, marked on this map:

Et voila.

See you next week, folks. Count the woodlice.

Categories: God is in the Detail | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

God is in the detail (10-03)

I’m excited this morning. Not because it’s Friday and we’re going to the seaside tomorrow, but because I’ve worked out something ABSOLUTELY COLOSSAL when unpacking ‘Thin Ice’, and it’s all to do with the Eleventh Doctor.

Let me explain. We’ll start with the Sutcliffe residence.

Birds are the theme here. There are so many bird references in this picture it practically deserves its own blog post. For a start, consider Bill’s hat, made of white feathers: a symbol both of hope from beyond and also cowardice, recalling the moment in ‘Parting of the Ways’ in which the Doctor admits that he is a coward – only to be rescued by Rose, as played by Billie Piper.

The wallpaper sitting behind the red urn contains four birds, a clear and unambiguous allusion to ‘The Day Of The Doctor’ – in which Doctors 10 and 11, accompanied by the War Doctor, gather around the Moment, which takes the form of a big red button. Clara lingers in the background, and the sentient Moment itself, as played by – yep, you remember, BILLIE PIPER, lingers just out of shot. The urn itself is a symbol of death and remembrance: moreover the base of the red section is exactly (and quite intentionally) parallel with Bill’s nostrils, which itself conjures images of the Curator winking at the Eleventh Doctor, tapping his face and whispering “Who knows?”

Also consider the willow plate, which refers explicitly to a particular legend, in which two forbidden lovers are transformed into birds by the gods in order to cheat death. And yet it is the traditional (read: author untraceable) poem that surrounds the tale that is perhaps of greatest interest:

Two birds flying high,
A Chinese vessel, sailing by.
A bridge with three men, sometimes four,
A willow tree, hanging o’er.
A Chinese temple, there it stands,
Built upon the river sands.
An apple tree, with apples on,
A crooked fence to end my song.

Let’s unpack that.

You’ll notice I haven’t circled ‘willow tree’, and that’s because it deserves a separate explanation, alluding as it does to the Willow Tree Surgery in Hayes – a town that was used for location filming during ‘Day of the Daleks’. And what do you find in a surgery? Doctors. NEED WE SAY MORE?

The notion of the Third Doctor continues once when we visit the docks, and Bill’s big pile of poo.

There are 26 discernible bricks in shot, representing two sets of canonical regenerations, and you will note that Bill has her hand on the third of them. You will also note that Bill is wearing a velvet bottle green jacket, an outfit the Third Doctor often dragged out of his wardrobe – and that three buttons are visible on the left hand side (as we look at it). However, the Third Doctor isn’t the only one referenced here: note the cuffs, made of the same kind of hair used to construct the Yetis which the Second Doctor fought – and which were a product of the Great Intelligence, WHOM THE ELEVENTH DOCTOR LATER ENCOUNTERED.

Now have a look at this.

Cages – and birds – are once more the theme here, but it is the sign in the background that arouses particular interest. Because if we examine the big words – clearly THE ONLY ONES WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO SEE, we’ll detect a curious pattern if we pick them apart. And this being episode three, here’s what we get if we pull every third letter from them.

U N S N P S P G B O

All of which may be rearranged to form ‘SPUN NSP BOG‘, which ostensibly means nothing until you Google NSP, whereupon the fish scales fall and you can see with astonishing clarity. Because NSP is an acronym for ‘Nurse Scheduling Problem’.

I’ll just leave this here for a moment.

[Pauses to allow mind-blowing implications of this sink in]

Let’s move on, shall we? Behold: a banquet.

There are four glasses of milk. This in itself means nothing until you consider that the chemical formula for lactose is C12H22O11, which may be broken down thus:

We’re just saying, Legends of Tomorrow isn’t going to last forever. Eventually it’ll be Legends of Yesterday.

The five plates in the background refer to ‘The Five Doctors’, the 1983 anniversary special: note that Doctor Three is positioned directly above a silver bowl. This alludes not (as you might expect) to the Cybermen, but rather the Raston Warrior Robot, which the Third Doctor (yes, HIM AGAIN) and Sarah Jane so memorably encountered in this story, and which is due to IMMINENTLY RETURN in the series finale, along with Peter Davison. The painting above – a clear depiction of the Great Fire of London, which Davison’s Doctor helped start in ‘The Visitation’, is further evidence – as is the fact that ‘THE VISITATION’ can be rearranged to form ‘HAITI OVEN TITS’, and I think we all know what that means, don’t we?

Finally in this image, regard the holly on the table. Specifically, holly in the house of a dignitary – a CLEAR AND UNAMBIGUOUS REFERENCE to Holly Earl, who played Lily in ‘The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardobe’ – WHICH FEATURED RORY WILLIAMS. Coincidentally, Holly also played Christine Kochanski when she was momentarily transformed into a child back in Red Dwarf VIII, which has nothing to do with anything except that she was so goshdarn cute.

Oh, and did I mention that the crew were running away from a dinosaur? Everything is connected, folks. Everything.

Categories: God is in the Detail | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Child Left Behind – now available!

OK, I think it’s done.

 

If you want to skip the pre-amble, here’s the download link, but I’ll paste it again after the FAQ to save you having to scroll back up.

The Child Left Behind zip

(Contains PDF, EPUB and MOBI files. The link will take you to a new window where you should be able to right-click and save.)

 

So what’s all this, then?

The Child Left Behind is an original, entirely unsanctioned full length Doctor Who novel. By me.

So it’s basically fan fiction.

If you like. It’s not some episodic thing I churned out for A Teaspoon and an Open Mind and then cobbled together. It has a beginning, a middle and an end. I prefer to think of it as Fan Fiction, rather than fan fiction.

With the Eleventh Doctor? And Amy?

You noticed. It’s a series 5 story, taking place between ‘Vincent and the Doctor’ and ‘The Lodger’, although that much will become obvious when you read it.

How come you’re publishing it here?

As far as I’m aware, Doctor Who doesn’t accept unsolicited fiction. I’d dearly love to get it published one day, but in the meantime – and on the advice of another writer I met last year – I thought the best thing to do was just get it out there.

At no cost?

Of course not. That’s blatant copyright infringement. All I ask is that if you enjoy the book, you’ll tell your friends. And that if you don’t, you’ll tell me.

Fair enough. So what’s the story in Balamory?

Well, you’ll have to read it to find out.

Aww, come on. Not even a hint?

Oh, if you insist. Here’s the blurb from the back cover.

Hamelin was still reeling from an immeasurable tragedy. And then the murders began.

The TARDIS brings the Doctor and Amy to thirteenth century Germany, and a community that is grieving for its lost children. The Doctor senses something is amiss, but how can he investigate in a town already suspicious of strangers? What really happened here six weeks ago? Is the forest on the hill really haunted? And what’s that glinting at the bottom of the river?

As the Doctor and Amy watch their lives become entwined with a dysfunctional family, a world-weary bartender and a watchful Constable, they must race to find the answers – before something unspeakable happens to the people of Hamelin…

Cryptic. So the title doesn’t refer to Amy?

No, it doesn’t, but now that you mention it, that’s something that had honestly never occurred to me until it was pointed out.

Cool cover art, by the way.

It’s great, isn’t it? It’s the work of Yvain Bon, an artist I met in a Facebook group who specialises in alternative covers for stories. I asked him if he’d do something for this, and he turned my vague ideas into the image you see above – quickly and brilliantly. In return I promised I’d interview him for The Doctor Who Companion – which reminds me, I really should email him.

This is about the Pied Piper, isn’t it? I seem to remember that’s been done before. 

It has, yes – in various places (although not on TV). Doctor Who has been around for a long time and there is nothing new under the sun. But to the best of my knowledge it’s never been done quite like this.

So who’s the monster?

Not saying.

Not even a hint?

Oh, you are WORSE THAN MY CHILDREN.

I want a biscuit.

Dinner’s in half an hour. If you’re hungry, have an apple.

So what’s in the zip?

Right, yes: there’s a PDF. There are also EPUB and MOBI files for Kindles and Kobos or whatever else you use. E-Readers have hundreds of different calibrations and settings and I’m not entirely sure what you’ll need, but there should be something in there you can use. I’m not, I’m afraid, an expert on how to transfer files to your device – I’d suggest Googling that if you find you have any difficulties.

One thing – I know that the cover for the MOBI files is a little on the small side. I’m working on it.

How much knowledge of the show should I have before reading?

It’s tricky. The story’s chronology gives context to the way certain characters are behaving (it’s set after ‘Cold Blood’ but before ‘The Pandorica Opens’, if you catch my drift). Basic knowledge is therefore enough. Of course, the more you know about the show’s history, the more you’ll appreciate certain gags and so on. But I aimed for this to be accessible on a number of levels, and if there are certain things that go over your head a little bit, that’s all the more reason to delve into the archives.

Anything else I should know?

Just that it’s never going to be perfect. I’ve proofread and proofread and have got rid of as many mistakes as I can but you can bet I’ve missed something. Please do let me know and I’ll amend it for a future edition. The same goes for technical problems with the EPUB and MOBI files – I’ve sanity checked as much as I can but if anyone has any feedback let me know and I’ll try and improve them.

Oh, and one more thing: if you’re surprised by anything, please don’t spoil it for others!

Can I have that download link again?

Yep –

The Child Left Behind zip

(Contains PDF, EPUB and MOBI files. The link will take you to a new window where you should be able to right-click and save.)

Happy reading!

EDIT: It’s been brought to my attention that the public link I posted yesterday didn’t work unless you had a Dropbox account, a change apparently made recently but which had escaped my notice. I’ve therefore re-uploaded the file to OneDrive and updated the link. Hope it’s now OK!

Categories: The Child Left Behind | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Kasterborous Archives, #4: Slap in the Face – Why Doctor Who’s Domestic Violence Has To Stop

Author’s notes:

Tackling this sort of subject matter is always going to be tricky. In the process of doing so I encountered a few people who thought I was overreacting and one or two feminists who felt it trivialised male-on-female violence. I contend that neither statement is true and that I’m making a valid point – but I would add that this was written before series 9, which seemed to fix many of the problems we’d had. Whether that was down to a general lightening of the Doctor’s character, a shift in tone, or perhaps a growing realisation that casual slapping was both dramatically lazy and downright irresponsible, I’ll never know. The third option is somehow unlikely.

Thinking back, I wonder if I shouldn’t have used the words ‘domestic violence’. But I stand by the content, so I trust you’ll forgive the occasional lapse into sensationalism.

Slap in the face: Why Doctor Who’s domestic violence has to stop

Published: 19 August 2015

Picture the scene. The TARDIS’s lights glow eerily. Up at the console, the Doctor flicks switches, pulls a couple of levers in quiet desperation. Finally, with an anguished sigh, he gives up. “It’s gone,” he tells Clara. “Gallifrey. Completely gone. I’ll never see it again.”

Clara, who is feeling particularly mean this afternoon, gives a nonchalant shrug. “You were the one who lost it in the first place. Can’t leave you alone with anything, can they?” Whereupon the Doctor turns from the console, striding across the floor of the TARDIS and slapping her savagely across the face.

The inclusion of a moment like this is more or less unthinkable. Even if you could write the characters this way, the OFCOM fallout would be potentially catastrophic. The tabloids would have a field day. The Mail’s headline would be a smug “BBC GOES TOO FAR”. The forums would be clogged with debates about whether the Doctor has become irredeemably dark, irreversibly unpleasant, and whether we need to see violence against women represented at this scale – counter-balanced against the views of those who simply see it as a natural progression, a chance for the show to journey into uncharted waters.

You’ve probably already seen where I’m going with this, but just in case it needs pointing out, when the reverse happens – as it does, with increasing frequency – the net result is a string of animated GIFs and YouTube compilations and the sound of much laughter. Because slapping in Doctor Who is something that they seem to do a lot, and while it’s undoubtedly a source of much hilarity to most of the Tumblr brigade, I’m not one of them. And every time it happens, I get very uncomfortable.

There’s certainly been a history of Doctor-companion violence. Perhaps one of the most notable early stories was The Edge of Destruction, with its strangulation cliffhanger and the notorious scene where Susan attacks Barbara with a pair of scissors. It was a stage in the production history where they were still working out tone and it’s almost inconceivable that it would have happened even, say, a year later. Meanwhile, strangulation rears its ugly head again in The Twin Dilemma, as a paranoid, post-regeneration Doctor shouts poetry at Peri before trying to throttle her. I’ve had dates like this, but it’s a nasty scene in a largely ridiculous story, and we will not dwell on it.

Besides, such things seem to be anomalies in twenty-five years of comparatively chaste television, in which the relationship the companion has with their Doctor is seldom discussed openly. For better or worse, a companion-based intensity is central to the dynamic of New Who, and generally you either love it or hate it. The Ninth Doctor famously tells Rose that he doesn’t “do domestic”, but that almost feels like Eccleston himself protesting against the tide of relationship issues that clogged the show both during and after his stint in the leather jacket.

That’s a different debate, of course, but it has fallout. The Doctor is slapped by Jackie Tyler for taking away his daughter. Francine Jones slaps him because she believe he’s a threat. A bolshy, pre-enlightened Donna Noble slaps him because she thinks she’s been kidnapped (and then again when she thinks he’s making light of a serious situation). Martha slaps the Doctor to bring him out of his self-induced fugue.

Some of these are understandable within the context of the narrative, even if we could question the writers’ decision to subsequently make light of them (the Doctor and Rose share a joke about Jackie on a rooftop, while a reeling Tennant remarks “Always the mothers” while he’s getting up). But that’s television. The comedy value of a good slap in the face is, apparently, worth its weight in gold, whether it’s Tasha Lem in Time of the Doctor, or Clara’s assault on the Cyberplanner Doctor in Nightmare in Silver. It would be churlish to single out Doctor Who for this sort of thing. It happened practically every week in Friends. It goes back to the golden age of television and beyond. Every short film Leon Errol ever made would end when his wife hit him over the head with a vase.

Perhaps comedy slapping has its place, given the right characters and context. But there’s been a shift over the years from a literal slapstick – the Eleventh Doctor hitting himself for his own stupidity – towards a darker, violence-as-reaction ethos, and perhaps that’s what makes me uncomfortable. I’ve mentioned the mothers, but the rot truly sets in when Matt Smith enters his second series: River’s reaction upon seeing an apparently resurrected (but actually two hundred years younger) Doctor is to slap him. She does it again when he fixes her broken wrist. Clara’s about the most violent of the lot, particularly when she’s working with Capaldi: thoughtless behaviour is punished with physical abuse in both Last Christmas and Into the Dalek, while she threatens, in Kill the Moon, to “smack you so hard you’ll regenerate”.

“But surely,” I can hear people arguing, “It’s OK, because the Doctor’s an alien?” And yes, the Doctor’s not human. He’s already demonstrated amazing resistance to injuries. He’s probably got a healing factor. He’s like an abrasive, declawed Wolverine, so that makes it OK. Besides, thumping non-human life forms isn’t a problem: if Han Solo’s response to being captured by the Ewoks had been to punch one of them in the face, I’m sure that would have been entirely acceptable to most children. It’s a poor analogy, but it illustrates that the line’s very hard to draw. To what extent do we disavow the actions of a character on the grounds that the humanoid patriarch they’ve thumped has two hearts instead of just one?

“Or,” the argument continues, “he deserves it, right?” Well, yes, of course he does. The Twelfth Doctor’s an alienating (in a quite literal sense of the word), clinically detached sociopath, at least in his worst moments. He says the horrible things we’re all thinking, only the little switch inside his head that stops you saying them out loud doesn’t seem to be working. That’s a perfectly justifiable reason for casual domestic violence. He deserves it in the same way that provocatively dressed women presumably deserve to be raped.
Why even question the motives of the one doing the slapping, when the one being slapped is so obviously asking for it?

I watch quite a lot of Jeremy Kyle on the weekday mornings I’m folding laundry instead of writing, and a couple of months ago one particular guest recounted the time he was locked in his flat by a girlfriend who supposedly beat him. The authenticity of his narrative was ultimately disputed, of course, but long before that happened Kyle had taken the audience to task for laughing. “If this was the other way around,” he said, “and if a woman was sat here and a bloke had locked her in a flat and she’d been forced to jump out and injure herself you would not be laughing. You would be saying he is a complete nightmare, he should be locked up and that’s disgraceful, but somehow if it happens to a bloke that’s funny. That’s not funny.”

If I could say that the show were making a valid point about this sort of thing, I’d probably be more tolerant. But it doesn’t: moral debate is sandwiched into inappropriate contexts where it is dealt with poorly and rapidly (Kill The Moon again) or, more often, sidestepped entirely. So by turns we’re supposed to laugh, or shake our heads in dismay and mutter “Well, he was asking for it”. We laugh because it’s a powerful Time Lord being brought down off his pedestal by a weak and feeble human. And we shouldn’t, because when it’s supposed to be funny, it usually isn’t, and when it’s supposed to be angst-ridden, it just comes across as nasty. Besides, it’s not just the Doctor. In Asylum of the Daleks, Amy slaps Rory twice. At least that’s consistent. Amy spends most of that story being an absolute bitch, whether it’s the arrogant smugness that pervades the early scenes, or the tirade of fury directed at her ex-husband for considering himself the wronged party (“Plastic man standing outside in the rain for two millennia? Pah. I THREW YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE BECAUSE I CAN’T HAVE YOUR BABIES!”).

I’m not advocating a reduction of violence. I approach many of these situations – inevitably and unavoidably – from the perspective of a parent, but that doesn’t mean I think the show is too unpleasant. I recently showed The Deadly Assassin, arguably the peak of 1970s unpleasantness, to my eight-year-old (and was thrilled when, just last week, he remembered an obscure detail while forming an analogy). The most sensible response to stories that cross your own particular line of acceptable viewing is to simply not watch them.

But I am worried about the show I’m watching. Perhaps Series 8 was Capaldi’s Twin Dilemma moment, borne out across twelve weeks, and the lighter touch hinted at in Series 9 will mean Clara no longer needs to react in anger. Or perhaps not. Perhaps this is the way Moffat and the producers choose to do things; a sort of counterbalance to the sexism charges thrown his way last year. But I know we live in a world where The Sun spearheads a campaign to highlight battered women with one hand and dismisses a marital assault charge against its (female) editor as “a silly argument” with the other. I know it’s a world where domestic violence against men is granted less credence than its (admittedly more common) antipode. Once again, that’s another debate for another day. But above all I know this: it’s not the sort of thing I want to see in Doctor Who.

Categories: The Kasterborous Archives | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Remastered: A Town Called Mercy, Silent Movie Style

There are different types of YouTube comments. Some heap undeserved praise to the point of sycophancy. People will tell you that a mediocre product is the best thing they’ve ever seen on the internet; it is crucial above all else to ensure that you do not start to believe your own hype, because therein lies artistic complacency and the excessive inflation of ego. At the other end of the scale are the downright abusive. I used to be polite; these days I’m inclined to argue back, albeit without letting them see that they’ve got to me. I’m not suggesting you should ever feed the troll, but sometimes you can poke it with a stick.

Somewhere in the middle there is a sweet spot; a small compartment of users who offer something that actually might be considered constructive feedback – the people who say “I liked this, but have you tried…?”. For instance, there was the chap who told me my Kraftwerk montage was a little too long. He was quite right, and were I to redo it now I’d go for a shorter edit. There were the numerous people who pointed out the mistakes in the Red Dwarf mashup – a hard lesson learned about when less is more – to the extent that I gave it a substantial overhaul in the tail end of last year and made something I actually almost liked.

Then there’s the silent movie I did three and a half years ago. Generally people seemed to like it, but a comment I got a few months back got me thinking. “Speed it up just a little more and put it slightly out of focus,” said a user named cemeterymaiden1. “It will look authentic I think! :D”

And that’s great. I can work with that. It did need to be faster, and it did need a little blurring round the edges. That’s the sort of comment I love receiving, because it is constructive without being disrespectful. It makes a welcome change from this –

I’ve decided, after careful reflection, that most Doctor Who fans are fucking idiots.

[coughs]

In any event: when I decided to retouch a few old projects that never quite lived up to their potential, this one seemed like a prime candidate. Most of the changes are cosmetic – loose frames tucked, timings adjusted. Then I ran it through a gaussian blur and tinted it with sepia, rather than the black and white I originally used. I’m still not sure how authentic this makes it as a result – my knowledge of silent movie production techniques isn’t as comprehensive as it ought to be – but it’s a Western, dammit. It looks cooler.

“Don’t you think,” said Gareth when I posted the original, back before ‘Day of the Doctor’, “that the joke about the Eccleston cameo is going to date rather quickly?” He was right, of course – it’s not something that bothered me at the time, given that all it did was time stamp the original, but the remaster replaces it with a gag that’ll never go out of style, even if the BBC eventually follow through on it.

The original is still up there, if you want to take a peek. But I’m happier with this one. Some things don’t need changing. But sometimes you reap the benefits when you do. Happy trails, y’all.

Categories: Videos | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

No, I’ve met cat people

It was a Wednesday, and I was giving Edward a bath, when Emily popped her head round the door and announced she was going to work.

“What time will you be back?” I asked.

“No idea,” she said. “I’ll probably get drawn into something.”

So I have drawn her into this picture of the Tenth Doctor. I rock.

 

In our ongoing Nu Who marathon, we passed ‘Fear Her’ months ago, and the Tenth Doctor has long since regenerated. Indeed, the Eleventh is currently into his ‘new lease of life after Amy and Rory phase’, cavorting around the rings of Akhaten with Clara. (I seem to be the only one who actually likes this episode, or at least I thought I was until a recent reappraisal saw its other fans emerging from the woodwork, like the slaves at the end of Spartacus.) What’s annoying is that he has yet to shed a single tear over any of the deaths, or any of the departures. I know I didn’t either, but it’s hardly the point.

That doesn’t stop Daniel having an appreciation for Classic Who, of course, judging by the scene he played out with the Character Creations set last week: not content with building a wall and casting Peter Davison’s incarnation in the role of Donald Trump, I came in the other day to find the Sixth and the First Doctors emerging in what looked an awful lot like cosplay.

I only wish I could find the Seventh Doctor. Can somebody (hello Gareth) come up with an amusing, series-related suggestion?

Also this week: Daniel told us he had a dream where the Eleventh Doctor was having an adventure with Rose, “only she had an emoji face and she threw Captain Jack from the roof of a building”.

It took me all morning to find the right building, but eventually –

 

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Doctor Who Quotes – Out of Context

Firstly:

I bet you're gonna have a really great year.

There is a Doctor Who Facebook group I frequent where certain patterns of behaviour may be observed. There is person X, who publishes regular links to YouTube videos that are basically him rambling incoherently for twenty minutes at a time with a static image in the background about various missing episode rumours and speculation, and who bristles at all the negative feedback he gets. There is that tendency you get for the same tabloid headline to be posted in several different threads with the same conversations going on in each. There are the regular birthday listings – from people who had substantial roles to people who had a single line of dialogue. And there’s me – usually posting memes or videos or blog articles, some of which go down quite well, while others are completely ignored, but them’s the breaks, kid.

Then there’s Steve.

Steve isn’t his real name – although it may be, given that the name he uses is a Who-related moniker (which is something I’ve never liked on Facebook; it’s a personal preference but I find it difficult to engage with someone who calls themselves Melody Oswald, or Gillian LogansMummy Bear). Steve occasionally posts on different topics but his favourite activity is the Sad Quote. You know the sort of thing I mean. It’s a picture of Matt Smith on a swing. It’s Capaldi, alone in the TARDIS. Or it’s Tennant standing in the rain. These images are accompanied by the ‘sad’ moments from the show – the Doctor’s farewell after he wipes Donna’s memory, the moment he admits to Rose that death is inevitable, the bit where Amy Pond says “And this is how it ends.” I’m not even going to include them here; you can have this one instead.

I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye.

(I’m amused by the fact that when I posted this, more than a few people didn’t get the joke.)

I’m not opposed by the fact that people want to wallow in misery over some of Doctor Who’s supposedly melancholy moments. This is watched by angst-ridden teenagers – some of whom, I’m convinced, genuinely believe that the Doctor is really out there somewhere, and that he’ll come and pick them up one day. It’s easy to scoff at this, but I’m not going to. When you’re young and the world overwhelms you, you need some semblance of escapist hope, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

But really. It saturates certain portions of the internet. “This is why,” someone said when I brought it up, “I don’t use Tumblr.” And truth be told, I don’t use Tumblr either – I just periodically post stuff there to generate web traffic, as it’s a decent market. But when Tumblr bleeds across into Facebook, we have a problem, in that the epidemic of Doctor / Clara / Rose posts sets my teeth on edge. “Such an upsetting scene,” says someone who from their profile pic is old enough to know better. The ‘sad’ emoticon features in abundance. Cut to Matt Smith, crying on a sofa. Oh, the feels.

Anyway: I propose a solution. Because it struck me – having made a particular random association one morning when I was more bored than you can imagine – that one way to counteract the Sad Meme thing is to decontextualise them. In other words, miserable quotes presented in different scenarios.

And that’s what I’ve done. Enjoy.

There's a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive... wormhole refractors... you know the thing you need most of all? you need a hand to hold

I don't age. I regenerate. But you, you wither and you die. You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on, alone.

before i go, i just wanna tell you, rose tyler, you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And you know what? So was I.

I don't wanna go

But then there's other people and you meet them and you think not bad, they're okay, and then you get to know them, and their face sort of becomes them, like their personality's written all over it

Never trust a hug. It's just a way of hiding your face

Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones, but you still have to choose.

Categories: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fish Custard: Reversed

I walked into the study on Monday morning to find the boys watching a Lazy Town video. Backwards.

It beats the hell out of some of the stuff I find in the internet history. I mean, I love YouTube. It’s a wealth of fantastic, entertaining material. It has recipes, educational videos, how-to guides and interviews. It’s enabled me to see programmes I haven’t seen in years and ones I’d forgotten about completely. It’s connected me with musical artists in ways I wouldn’t have thought possible, shown me ideas and concepts I could never have imagined and, for all the idiocy and bigotry, generally broadened my horizons.

And what were my kids watching the other week? Fucking Crazy Frog. Backwards.

It’s hardly Twin Peaks, is it? It’s quite amusing to watch Sportacus climb back into his cage while Robbie and his clones skip backwards over the wall, but you wonder what the point was. And then you look at the other stuff on the channel and you notice a pattern in the titles –

weare

HOW THE HELL HAS THIS GUY GOT SO MANY HITS? Do people like Lazy Town that much? Or is this another artificial inflation scam like the VEVO incident? I mean, here’s me, scrabbling for social media coverage, begging and borrowing and promoting like crazy just to creep into the hundreds, and this guy’s presumably living off his monetization. It’s enough to make you weep for the future of humanity; it really is.

The definitive use of reversed footage, of course, is in Red Dwarf, in an episode that isn’t really as funny as we’d like to think (gimmicky episodes seldom are, as ‘Gunmen of the Apocalypse’ proves in abundance). There are amusing moments in ‘Backwards’ but the best of the humour stems from Lister’s reactions (“Santa Claus – what a bastard!”), as well as that single shot of Cat, springing up from the bushes. But a better episode that series is ‘Marooned’, which is almost a two-hander, but which has some of the best gags in the history of the show. ‘Backwards’ has Lister falling off a bicycle. ‘Marooned’ has Rimmer doing the funniest Richard III you’ll ever see. Case closed.

catbackwards

Anyway, I started to think about whether I could take anything from Doctor Who and run it backwards. I’ve occasionally reversed small clips in isolation – the Beckett video springs to mind – but was there any merit in anything longer? The problem was picking an appropriate scene, and seeing that inspiration was lacking I decided to ask Facebook. Someone suggested Clara’s death scene. “Anything with the Weeping Angels”, said someone else. “It’s just them backing away from people.”

There’s a lot of mileage in a scene like that but one obvious example – inspired, in part, by the scene in Red Dwarf where Rimmer and Kryten observe a woman regurgitating a cream cake – was the Fish Fingers and Custard sequence. Because it’s a wonderful moment that’s been done to death and had all the life sucked out of it with subsequent references (Why, in the name of sanity, does the TARDIS interface say ‘Fish fingers and custard’ to the Doctor when he’s lying on the floor halfway through ‘Let’s Kill Hitler’?). There is absolutely nothing new I can bring to that scene apart from reverse it and witness the Doctor’s telekinetic summoning of a reassembling plate across the garden, before sucking baked beans back into his mouth.

But what’s most striking about it is how similar it sounds to Nordic noir. As I was watching it – and particularly after I’d dropped in the background ambience, which comes courtesy of the lovely people at Cryo Chamber – it felt like I was watching a scene from The Bridge, or Modus, or Wallander (I assume; that’s one I’ve not seen yet). The analogy’s far from perfect, of course. Amelia’s house isn’t nearly Nordic enough. There’s not a single glass wall. She doesn’t even have decking. Nonetheless, the vibe is there. It’s the dialogue: it all sounds like Swedish.

And that’s given me another idea, but you’re going to have to let me finish it first…

Categories: Videos | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: