Sunday, 2 July 2017

The Spoilers Of War

Doctor Who
World Enough And Time and The Doctor Falls
Series Ten, Episodes Eleven and Twelve

How do you feel about spoilers?

If you’re Steven Moffat – let’s face it, statistically unlikely! – you’re on record as not being a fan of them.  He did his nut when someone leaked the Doctor’s “regeneration” at the start of Series Six, and urged said fan to go and be a fan of something else; more recently, when the Series Ten trailer came along he suggested journalists close their eyes and stick their fingers in their ears at the end.  Much of his era has been defined by surprises, regardless of whether they’re worth the wait, and not parading them around in advance is sort of the main ingredient of that.

So it can’t have been his idea to tell everybody that the Mondas (aka original) Cybermen were coming back, as well as John Simm as the Master.  Sure, ratings are down this year (taking a year off probably didn’t help), and a juicy morsel such as that might get a few more bums on seats.  Ye Olde Cybermen?  Cool.  The old Master?  Double cool, provided he isn’t still acting like a cartoon character.  All of this would be fine (sort of) if knowing about them had been the plan from the start, but when you watch World Enough And Time it clearly wasn’t.  These things are twists, and the BBC has meticulously removed any shock value from them.

Whatever could be going on in this creepy hospital?  Cybermen, innit.  Who is that mysterious man that for some reason has a prosthetic nose and is forcing an accent?  Well, John Simm is back this week, and he’s a bit like John Simm now that you mention it, so… that’ll be the Master then.  Tada?  Simm has already lamented this in Doctor Who Magazine: nobody recognised him on set, and it would have been a huge, exciting moment for the show when he pulled off his mask at the end.  Instead it isn’t.  (Okay, some papers were already leaking the news, but so what?  It’s inconvenient, but it’s not as inyerface as the BBC sounding the spoiler horn in the press, then in the launch trailer, and then in the sodding Next Time trailer the week before.  If you remained unspoiled, it was despite their efforts.)

As for whether we would have guessed all this beforehand, with a few blissfully lucky exceptions we’ll simply never know: through the magic of spoilers, the BBC has transported you directly to your second viewing of the episode.  Did they get more bums on seats?  If so, said bums were rewarded with a lethargic 45 minute wait to catch up with the Next Time trailer.  Well done, geniuses.

The question now becomes what else there is to enjoy besides the twists.  World Enough And Time begins intriguingly enough, with Missy and her plucky companions (Bill and Nardole) arriving on a 400 mile long spaceship next to a black hole.  It’s a trial run for Missy, learning to do what the Doctor would do.  Although back up, I’ve missed a spot: it really begins with a flash-forward to the Doctor regenerating.  O RLY?  Only a couple of episodes after faking this for a laugh, a whole week before the end of the series, they’ve got to know only the amoeba-brained among us will think they’re going to see a full regeneration.  So what’s the point teasing it?  If they’ve cried wolf once, what’s to stop them doing it again and hanging on until Christmas?  If there was any chance of a new Doctor a.s.a.p., do you think the BBC would have any hesitation in telling us exactly what to expect?

Best just stick it in the bin and get back to Missy.  This bit, with the Doctor listening in and offering annoyed commentary, is quite fun, with a pretty big caveat.  Missy calls herself “Doctor Who” instead of “the Doctor”.  Ho ho and everything, moving on – but it doesn’t end there.  Bill questions it.  Tee hee, that’s enough now – nope, Missy defends it, says it’s his real name, i.e. he made it up to sound mysterious and dropped the “Who” later as it’s too on the nose.  Ha… ha?  And the Doctor says she’s kidding.  Phew, we’re done.  And then he later adopts it anyway.  Jesus.  All caught up?  That’s not a joke, it’s a relay race.  Making Doctor Who characters say “Doctor who?” is one of the campest gags in the show, and it’s bad enough when it’s just a one-two punch.  I’m pretty sure this took years.

And speaking of time dilation, parking next to a black hole has the unfortunate side effect of making time at the top go a lot slower than time at the bottom.  Fortunately the ship is pulling away very slowly, but the Doctor and co. don’t have time to offer assistance, as the moment Bill’s lifesigns are detected a mysterious something comes up in a very fast lift.  (They must be fast enough to liquefy you to get up there in good time.  Ouch!)   The non-human ship’s custodian shoots her in a panic, evidently fed up with the Doctor’s “you will wonder who I am and why I came here” grandstanding – fair enough, that stuff makes me want to shoot someone.  Shooting Bill is a bit useless now the lift is already here, but that’s panic for you.  Bill is taken away to be “repaired”.  I wonder how that’ll go?

He needed a disguise, he enjoys The Hobbit dwarf cosplay.  What of it?
Around here we’re treated to some zingy back-and-forth flashbacks, as the Doctor plans this little jaunt with Bill beforehand and admits how badly he wants Missy to be good.  This sort of zig-zagging is in Steven Moffat’s fossil record by now, but it’s well done, offering a bit of breathing room in a rather cramped and short-on-plot episode, and highlighting the friendship of the Doctor and the Master and what it means.  Unfortunately Moffat can’t resist showing off, so he does add the phrase “man crush”.  (Gosh, how incredibly hip and down with da kids he is!)  In the present, the Doctor’s job is to distract the panicky blue dude long enough to get into a lift and reach Bill.  Bill’s job is to wait for him, which she does for ten years.  Did someone mention Moffat’s fossil record?  Yeah, Companions Who Wait is in there too, along with ticking off years in seconds.  Kind of loses its shock value when you keep doing it – rather like faking a regeneration – so we’ll have to make Bill’s situation worse.  She ends up working in a creepy hospital with a mysterious bearded gentleman; say, he looks a bit odd, I wonder if that’s important?  It turns out the people here aren’t just living quicker, they’re dying; of what, I didn’t entirely catch, but they’re being “converted” so they can survive.  Survive what, exactly?  Ah, who cares, are they Cybermen yet?

The hospital stuff is suitably eerie, with faceless patients only able to croak words like “pain” electronically, and the “nurses” doing nothing more than turn down the volume.  It doesn’t really mean anything that the staff here are absolutely evil since we don’t get to know anyone, just as it’s a bit of a shrug that people from Mondas automatically start converting into Cybermen when the going gets tough.  (Old habits?)  It’s also a big ask that Bill does nothing of note for ten years, and as far as we know her beardy chum Mr Razor doesn’t do anything either... but it’s suitably sad that she has to wait all that time, and sadder how it all turns out.  Eventually the Doctor and co. secure a lift, so Razor ushers her into medical theatre.  Surprise, he was planning to turn her into a Cyberman all along!  What a… masterful rotter he is.

Okay, so the Master is unveiled and meets Missy, who apparently switches sides.  (Hmm.)  Bill is now a Cyberman.  Behold, the sum total of the episode: a mixture of stuff you already knew and stuff you could put together like Duplo blocks, and we got here via the Moffat trope of a story that progresses years and hardly at all in the same go.  With three big reveals it really ought to pack a punch.  Instead it musters a pretty good pat.  Kudos to John Simm for investing Mr Razor with an eccentric air of the sinister; I like that the Master has gone back to wearing disguises, although ten years is a long con even for him.  When it comes to mask-off time he relishes the opportunity to be properly nasty, even if it’s not the surprise it should be; there are no more scenes of him laughing his head off, thank god.  Rubbing in how this is “the genesis of the Cybermen” is a bit on the nose, but hey, at least it’s not the “Doctor Who” joke again.  And we’re off to the next episode.

There aren't even any snarks to make.
Michelle Gomez has great material.  At last.  And it's glorious.
The Doctor Falls starts off with a sudden change of scenery, which you won’t expect if you’ve never seen a Moffat two-parter before; ditto back-filling the information to get us to that point, since it’s slightly more interesting than doing everything in order.  (It just isn’t a new way of doing Doctor Who.)  Simm and Gomez are a delight together, the former toning it down (at last) in a black suit and goatee, the latter, well… come back, Missy, all is forgiven.  There are moments here when Missy says she’s on the Doctor’s side and seems to be in actual pain trying to figure out if she means it.  Missy’s soul has been the real arc of Series Ten, and that could be a very cheesy development, besides which Moffats past form suggests it won’t go anywhere anyway.  Well, we’ve got Michelle Gomez.  Watching her imprint out of habit on Simm and then evil it up, only to wobble back uncertainly when she’s with the Doctor, is (ahem) a masterclass.  She underplays and steals every scene, which is all the more impressive considering who this Doctor is.  (Conversely he’s doing more of that tiresome grandstanding that you’ll either love or hate: “You know the stories.  There’s only ever been one way to stop that many Cybermen.  ME.”  Oh, sign an autograph to yourself and be done with it.  I’m sick of this particular record.)

Battle lines are drawn soon after: having turned the Cybermen against the Master(s) and ensured their begrudging co-operation, and then escaped to floor 507 of the spaceship, they know the Cybermen are coming and must stop them.  They can’t get to the bridge (and the TARDIS) because by the time they do, the Cybermen will have had “thousands of years to figure out how to stop them”.  That’s sort of bollocks really – if you all get in lifts right now, which are designed to get you up there really quick, the Cybermen will still need to go even faster than them to catch you up, and it’ll be harder for them to catch up the closer they get.  If anything, its impossible for them to get you, not for you to escape!  But you probably knew the whole “slow/quick time” thing would be a strictly “good idea on paper” affair, so save yourself the bother of thinking about it.  The rest of the episode is, like a lot of Moffat finales, mostly talking.  And those are the best bits.

Bill is a Cyberman now.  She still sees herself as she was – the Doctor pegs this on her ability to keep her mind during the Monk occupation, but let’s face it, it’s probably just habit after Cyber-Danny and Dalek-Oswin.  Pearl Mackie is fantastic though, keeping just enough mechanical body language to suggest something isn’t right, and otherwise only just keeping it together.  Yes, it’s a bit of an eyeroll that as soon as we’ve brought the Mondasian Cybermen back we’ve got a “nice” one, but it’s an excuse for some very compelling scenes with her and the Doctor.  And whoever the guy is in the baggy robot suit; it sounds like a snark, but there’s something quite affecting about a Cyberman impassively holding a rescue ship in place so the Doctor can get on.

The Doctor is doing his best under impossible circumstances, as is Peter Capaldi in some ways.  There’s no real “win” here as he can’t get back to the TARDIS (hush, we’ve decided he can’t, shut up, shut up I said), so there’s many an impassioned moment as he rallies the (totally interchangeable) people of Floor 507, not to mention the Masters.  And yeah, pause the rant: much like the people on floor 1056, you won’t give a rat’s arse about anyone here.  Which is a bit of an issue, if you can be bothered to focus on it.

For all his self-aggrandisement, the Doctor relies on Nardole to repel the Cybermen, mostly using some very vaguely explained explosions (something about fooling their monkey brains – or is it the thing Nardole said about fuel lines?), before relying on him to take care of the survivors on a different floor.  And that’s a series wrap for Nardole.  Plenty of people find him scintillating; I think he’s harmless, but I’ve never seen a third dimension there.  He occasionally grows new traits when they’re useful, like his apparent license to arse-kick, and the bit where he laments that if there’s more than three people in a room he’d start a black market.  And that’s based on...?  What about the bit where one of the locals haphazardly comes onto him, setting up a suggested romance later: “I’ll try anything once” will have to do for explanation, I guess.  Matt Lucas has done sterling work this year, but really, K9 had a more solid personality.

All the while, the Doctor’s got a regeneration on the go, and hes keeping it down like a bad burp.  Not enough is made of this; annoyingly, when Bill sees him do the glow-hands, she doesn’t remember seeing it in The Lie Of The Land, which might actually have put that bloody stupid moment to some use.  By the end of the episode he’s alone in the TARDIS, regenerating-and-talking-to-himself-a-go-go, whereupon he decides he never wants to change again.  Which is... fair enough, I suppose, but it isn’t really seeded in the episode as a theme.  He just seems fairly sure he’s going to die.  Is he depressed because in the end, Missy didn’t stick around?  Is he just knackered?  Does he know that the last time someone he knows refused to regenerate, they died?  Perhaps he’s bored of trying on new trousers.  On the available evidence, it just seems like a random-ish repeat of David Tennant’s last days, crammed into a slightly awkward scene at the end.  I imagine the Christmas Special will shape it up, but thus far there’s a slightly forced bit of emoting going on where there probably ought to be a full blown regeneration.

Fair’s fair: the Doctor is often enriched by the quality of his enemies, and he’s up against the Cybermen in all their boring glory.  For all his impassioned speeches (Twelve’s trademark at this point), he defeats them with explosions.  Kind of sells his apparent all-encompassing “kindness” short, doesn’t it?  He spends all this time with Bill, a Cyberman, only to happily kaboom the rest of them.  (She’s off doing something in the middle of all that.  Deleted scene?)  It’s not just incredibly dull to make all the nasty things go bang in place of a clever solution – and no, having the Doctor admit he has no plan doesn’t put a plaster on it – it’s also continuing that very odd Series Ten trope of the Doctor answering threats with explosions.  There’s even a bit where he helps blow up a Cyberman by zapping it with the sonic.  Oh, so it’s a straight up laser gun now?

And speaking of Cybermen.  Oy.  I’ve often moaned that they’re basically less interesting, standy-uppy Daleks, and here – despite the goldmine opportunity of bringing back proper creepy Cybermen and going back to their roots – Moffat and co. simply default to that again.  Worse: the Mondas Cybermen, with their almost daringly clumsy costumes and odd sing-song voices, do exactly the same “You will be upgraded”, stomping, zapping, flying shite as their daft New Who counterparts.  Thanks to Bill, you can add crying-human-tears to the list.  (Not to be outdone, the Cybusmen are still clenching their fists and going hilariously OTT on the stomping.  Boing!  Boing!  One of them looks like he’s skipping off to market.)  After Bill, no one is converted on screen; all the Cybermen are is a stomping menace that needs to be exploded.  Despite all the effort of bringing them back and that laborious reference to the “genesis of the Cybermen”, this still isn’t in the same league as Spare Parts.  (Which you can hear for £2.99 here.  Go on, it’s the best thing that ever happened to them.)  I hope the next era of the show figures out what to do with them.  Or failing that, puts them away.

For now, we can at least put something away.  Could this be the end of the Master?  Amid all the waiting (and later, exploding) there are two Masters on the periphery: they don’t do much, which might be a tad disappointing if (for some reason!) you’ve been aware of this team-up for months.  But there’s plenty of interesting stuff going on here, as Missy tussles with her conscience and the Master becomes more affronted at what he might become.  Gomez does amazing work with just half-seen glances, or a frustrated grimace, or a phonier-than-usual smile, and manages to humanise an at times ridiculous character without breaking it.  When it comes time to escape with Simm to their TARDIS, she makes her choice, stabbing him and sending him on his way to become someone else.  She will stay with the Doctor.  Incensed and unable to change, Simm kills her.  She dies a better person; he disappears laughing that his final end is to shoot himself in the back.  And really, this is how it should be.

You probably can’t fully redeem the Master, all heroics and quips, without it seeming too easy after all these years, not to mention naff.  Having Simm on hand accentuates that.  But it is still, as Missy says, where this has been going forever.  (Roger Delgado’s Master would have gone out this way if real life tragedy hadn’t intervened.)  The Master gets his/her perfect ending without over-egging it, and the door is left open for more Simm, or even more Masters filling the gap.  Gomez gets the material she always deserved and a stagnant character grows; Simm gets to go in a direction other than random, and revels in the Masters worst excesses, also getting a brilliant exit that works far better than The End Of Time.  In a somewhat laboured story, this is the bit they get most perfectly right.  And the Doctor goes on his way knowing nothing about it.  It’s perfect and dark.

Savour it, because there’s bollocks incoming.  Emerging from the chaos, Cyber-Bill finds the dead-ish Doctor and weeps.  And – here it comes, stomping its bollocksy stomp! – Heather the puddle girl returns, summoned by Bill’s tears.  (Yes, the tears thing was set up previously, but I doubt it’s the first time Bill’s cried since then, and also, urgh.)  Heather was a shadow of herself in The Pilot, a screaming mechanical husk that dimly remembered a fascination with Bill, all of which leant their brief romance a bit of tragedy; she’s (somehow) a full person again now, complete with the power to make Bill human again (of course) and, I suspect, do whatever a script might throw at her.  Bill and Heather promptly zoom around the cosmos, which ought to sound familiar since it’s how Clara left the show.  And this is only moments after she gives the Doctor a restorative (magic) tear that will shortly wake him up.  Now, I like Bill, Pearl Mackie’s great, and I’m not enough of a bastard to long for an unhappy ending here, but yeesh.  The degree of magic wand make-it-all-nice-again contained in these final minutes borders on parody.  One last jab in the fanbase’s ribs?  I guess it depends on whether youve built up a tolerance by now.  Here’s a test: isn’t there something just a wee bit hilarious about Bill and Heather having life-changing conversations over the Doctor’s splayed out corpse?

The original, you might say.
And… we’re done.  Almost.  Because we’ve got to revisit that totally-gonna-happen regeneration from last week, haven’t we?  Cut to the South Pole, where he switches his regen off again (oh) and a spoiler the BBC didn’t foghorn rears its head at last: David Bradley is the First Doctor, for real this time.  (I still heard about this one in advance, despite the Beeb’s restraint.  Ah well, it’s still a “WHAT?” moment.)  Bradley still doesn’t strike me as Hartnellesque in any particular way, but we’ll see how it goes.  It’s not as if he’s the first Hartnell stand-in, and theyll never be him.

Another Moffat finale down – his last one ever.  Huh.  It’s certainly not his worst, eschewing tedious arc-answering questions that tend to result in disappointment with, I’ll be damned, a satisfying one for a change.  I guess it helps if your giant questions aren’t about the one character who never changes – and he, naggingly enough, doesn’t quite sell his big development, though Capaldi is could-do-this-in-his-sleep brilliant throughout.  The story doesn’t do much else that you haven’t seen before: the Doctor’s vigil on Floor 507 is a lot like him looking after the town of Christmas; Bill’s fate is quite a bit like Clara’s, with added fairydust; the Cybermen are as exciting as placeholders, as usual; and there are still the requisite “Wait, what?” holes, like whether the ship is going to escape the black hole after all (since it was a distress call that started all this), whether the Cybermen are going to get Nardole and co., whether the Doctor will go back to save them, and why Super Heather can’t just rescue everybody and fix the Doctor.  You can hope these bits will be tied up at Christmas, just as you can hope the Monks are coming back to justify their naff ending.  (No, seriously, was that it?)  Personally, after the miracle of Missy, ditching all her goofy comedy bullshit and rounding off the Master’s often disastrous story with something like elegance, I suspect one impossible thing is all we’re getting.  This late in the game, that’s a win.

Sunday, 18 June 2017

Light Entertainment

Doctor Who
The Eaters Of Light
Series Ten, Episode Ten

This episode is brought to you by Rona Munro.  Rona Munro!  Okay, so the only things I know about her are a) she’s Scottish and b) she wrote Survival, the last ever Classic Who story transmitted.  But I’m still excited.  Not only is she the writer who inadvertently saw out the old show (in style – Survival’s great), she’s also the first Ye Olde writer to return to Doctor Who since it came back.  (Meanwhile Mark Gatiss has written for it nine times.  Answer the door and let that sink in.)

It’s exciting because there’s a chance for something different.  That’s entirely self-driven hype and not Rona Munro’s fault, by the way: she hasn’t promised to reinvent Doctor Who or anything.  But I still went into this one hoping for a different flavour.  The title also suggests a story that’s somehow intangible, and maybe not as by-the-numbers as we’re used to.  Ah well, cancel the drumroll: The Eaters Of Light is pretty much like most other New Who, same sort of good bits, same sort of bad.  And fair enough: the average, oblivious, not-daftly-self-hyped viewer wouldn’t be the least surprised.

Average, oblivious, not-daftly-self-hyped viewer:
"Oh look, talking crows.  I am unsurprised."
The Doctor and Bill disagree about history.  (She read a book once and got an A* on an essay; the Doctor is a 2,000 year old time traveller.  No offence, but I think most of us are betting on angry-eyebrows.)  Bill believes the Roman Ninth Legion left Pictish Scotland in one piece, the Doctor thinks they all died.  Turns out they’re both sort of right, as an unknown horror from beyond space™ was unleashed by the Picts to devour the invading Romans.  A few Romans escaped.  They will need to work together to defeat the beastie.

I didn’t mean to scoop the entire plot into a couple of sentences, but… damn, there it is.  Of twists and turns, there are decidedly few.  So let’s talk about the people in it.

The Picts are mostly children now, as their parents and families were slaughtered by the Romans.  One of them (the “Gatekeeper”) has the dubious honour of keeping the Eater Of Light at bay.  One of these dog-like creatures arrives every 60-70 years and one warrior is chosen to stop it.  The latest, Kar, sees the Romans advancing and figures she has a secret weapon, so she lets it out, but the Eater can’t be stopped.  It eats the light from people, although we don’t generate light so… yeah, I don’t really know what it’s eating, but it sounds cool.  Rebecca Benson is wonderfully intense as Kar, particularly when she needs to make a heroic sacrifice at the end and says goodbye to her brother, wet eyed and just awkwardly hopping from foot to foot.

The Romans are mostly children too, as their commanding officers are all beast-kibble.  They’re a fairly charming lot and it’s not their fault their job is to show up and quash uncooperative Picts; they did run away.  There’s also an amusing scene where Bill rebuffs an advance by saying she’s gay, and quickly realises how quaint that sounds to Ancient Romans.  (Okay, this is inevitably a bit forced, as Bill quite often seems to correct people about her orientation.  Some kinds of Who fans are outraged by the gay thing full stop, so mentioning it again here is probably going to cause rage fits.  Poor things.  I think the scene works because of the rejoinder offered by the Romans.  If you’re mad that Bill keeps bringing it up, by all means try to figure out how else to represent gay people on TV when they’re not dating, and write to the BBC.)

There isn’t much else going on except Romans (avec Bill) and Picts (plus the Doctor and Nardole) surviving the beast, then meeting up and figuring out a way to stop it.  The monster isn’t much to write home about either: it looks like something from Avatar, a.k.a. a big dog with random tentacles on its face.  It’s a properly monsterish monster so it doesn’t speak, meaning it’s up to everybody else to figure it out and talk about it, which they do at length, the Romans in a cave and the Picts in their huts.  The monster seems happy enough to gambol about outside and wait, apparently doing stuff like recharging in the daylight (unseen) and causing the days to get darker (hard to tell from a production standpoint).  It’s not a very otherworldly menace, which sells that interesting title short.  It could just as easily be a panther that feeds on all the water in our bodies, or a llama that eats limbs.  Either way, it’s just a thing on the rampage.  The Doctor and everybody else furiously (and at times unconvincingly) join the dots about what it wants and how to stop it.  They tend to luck out.

Peter Capaldi is enjoyably (if excessively?) abrasive towards the Picts, encouraging them to “grow up” and fight the beast; he has some of his most crotchety moments since Series Eight here, loudly moaning about his lack of patience and mocking Kar for fighting the beast on her own.  There’s some nice “Grow up and work together!” stuff with the Romans and Picts; his Doctor has played that drum before, and he’s good at it.  He does get a bit nicer towards the end when it comes to his (bizarre) plan to save the day.  More anon.

Bill's argument is "Where are all the bodies?"
Um.  Tada.
Bill apparently hasn’t noticed the TARDIS language translator until now, but to her credit she figures it out by herself; an aptness for sci-fi is one of the things I like about her and I’m happy to see that in action again.  The whole plot starts because she’s confident about what she knows, which is lovely.  It’s still not a brilliant story for her, although Munro deftly has her sudden “TARDIS translator” realisation work for the plot, uniting Picts and Romans.  (Mind you, up to now thats not how the translator works.  You don’t just pick it up, you need to travel through time.)  Besides that she’s just chummy with the Romans, and briefly gets infected with “beast slime”.  (This is mentioned a few times but doesn’t seem to inconvenience her.  She faints once and completely recovers with a bit of sun.)  Meanwhile, Nardole does what he always does: hopefully raise a smile on the sidelines.  Shrug.  Not exactly vital, is he?

The episode’s so economical (and short – 42 minutes with Next Time trailer) it’s hard to find things to get excited about, or even say about it.  Oh no, the Doctor is missing for days, because time moves faster inside the gate!  Oh well, Nardole and co. waited outside.  Oh no, the Doctor has lost Bill!  Never mind, she finds her way back.  Oh no, Bill’s got beast slime on her!  Open a window, bob’s your uncle.  Oh no, we need to defeat the beast!  Well… the Picts have been managing that for centuries, how hard can it be?  Cue the resolution, and open a can of hmmmm.

The Picts send somebody in every 60-70 years (outside time), arm them with a magic-rock-magnifying-glass (no idea how they came up with those or where the Doctor gets loads more from at the end), and use “poisoned” light to force the beast back inside.  This evidently works, but the Doctor decides he’ll need to stay behind and keep the beasts out for all eternity, as he’ll live long enough to do so.  But if the Picts are happy to keep sending people in at each interval, and they’re handy enough to repel the beasts each time, why not just keep doing that?  Why does the Doctor, or anyone need to stay in there full-time?  Couldn’t he stop by every 60 years with his magic rock?  What difference, really, does the time difference make to all this?

Nevertheless he is absolutely bloody adamant about this, and the Picts and Romans have to gang up to stop him.  In his place, they then march inside the portal – to do what, though?  Inside there are countless Eaters of Light swimming around in… space?  Water?  Space-water?  Is there an atmosphere?  There’s nothing to say humans could live inside there, let alone give any beasties what for.  Later, the Doctor refers to them as if they’re still fighting in slow-time.  That’s a guess, and much good it’ll do Scotland or the world: 60 years is still going to mean about a week in blue goo for them, and the portal’s still going to open again on schedule next time.

Or is it?  As the Picts and Romans march inside (together; ah, bless), rocks start falling all over the place.  Then it’s left to Nardole – Nardole! – to explain that too many people have gone through it now and the place is “unstable”.  We hastily cut to outside the cairn, and they’re sealing it up with rocks.  So is it closed for good now?  The cairn is gone when we cut to the present day in the scenes bookending the episode, so… probably?  Honestly, it’d be much simpler if somebody guessed that sending too many people through would close the portal and sort everything out and that was the plan; it would mean a group sacrificing themselves, but it would lead to exactly the same ending.  Okay, there isn’t any information to support it, but Nardole quite happily guesses that’s what happened anyway, just as the Doctor decides that the monsters will break out en masse and eat the sun, and that the beast “homes in on sound”, based on absolutely sod all.  One more stab in the dark wouldn’t hurt.  As it is, the solution to the problem comes by complete serendipity, and is barely remarked upon.  And come to think of it, why the hell isn’t darkness considered as a form of defence?

Despite the wealth of irritating leftover questions, the episode bumbles along quite amiably.  It’s directed by one of Doctor Who’s more creative hands, Charles Palmer, but the setting isn’t as varied as Human Nature, nor the story as kinetic as Smith & Jones, so there’s not much to wring out of it.  (Even so, the monster could do with more than just “blue-screen monster vision” and trundling unflatteringly towards us in long shot.)  There are plenty of natty moments, like the Doctor using exploding popcorn to escape the Picts, and there are bits I don’t much like that others might.  Crows can apparently talk, mankind just forgot how to listen, so they’re all just sulking.  Which is very… shmoo.  (Except it then turns out the birds are still talking to us, but they’re saying “Kar” over and over.  Really?  Not a lot of interesting developments in crow world, are there?)

At last, Missy hears the magic Pict music that transcends time.
She is moved.  Which is more than I was.  It's like a bloody ringtone.
Bizarrely (but, y’know, second week running), the best bit of the episode is the bit with Missy in.  After Nardole laboriously and pointlessly tells the Doctor he needs to get back to the Vault – and yeah, hang on, about that?  They’re in a time machine.  They can arrive the minute they left.  Nardole knows this, they all do.  And even when the Doctor’s on Earth, he’s hardly ever sat outside the damn Vault anyway.  And last week – oh, this bit’s annoying – last bloody week it was Nardole who let Missy out of the Vault to save everyone.  And now he’s moaning at the Doctor to get back to work!  Unbelievable.  Anyway: once Nardole and Bill are finished whingeing at the Doctor to get back – no, really, what’s the rush?  Haven’t we established Missy isn’t in there because of teh homicides, but because of a cheeky loophole to avoid killing her?  What’s the point in the Vault any more?  She’s been out now, so any 1,000-year rule is broken.  If there’s an alarm to alert those assassin people, who presumably all this is for, it must have gone off by now.

Look, give over, will you?  Right.  Once Nardole and Bill shut the hell up about the Vault, it turns out the Doctor let her out and is keeping her on staff in the TARDIS.  She can’t get out because she’s bio-locked out of the controls – except hang on, didn’t she pilot it last week?  That’s why he let her out again!  GOD DAMN IT.  What I’m trying to say is, Michelle Gomez is fabulous here, relishing the unease from Nardole and Bill and then, privately with the Doctor, weeping at the thought of those dead Picts.  Yes, I know: this is Steven Moffat (via proxy) asking us to believe the Master might finally turn good.  Just as we were asked to believe the Doctor might die, or might not be a good man, or might reveal his name.  Yeah but this time?  Do me a favour.  No one further up the evolutionary chain than an amoeba should seriously entertain this, but Michelle Gomez and Peter Capaldi still make it bloody gripping to watch.  That’s practically alchemy, and I’m a bit in awe.

Let’s face it, that stuff’s probably written by Moffat anyway, so: back to The Eaters Of Light.  It’s… harmless.  It’s nice to have a historical episode without a famous person in it, and focusing on a bit of history I’m not too familiar with.  Still, it’s not like I learned anything: this is definitely history of the For Dummies variety, and my heart sank a bit when the Doctor pronounced that the threat was really “alien”, like that’s in any way unusual.  I’d love an episode that shook off some of those constraints, and either had something properly weird happening or just dropped us in history and let, y’know, stories happen.  But they’re not going to rock the boat this close to the end and Rona Munro isn’t magic, so I probably shouldn’t look at it through that lens.  It isn’t going to massively remind you of the Classic series and it won’t exactly rescue the New one.  Yet again, it’s fine, itll do.

NB: A quick word on spoilers.  That word is urgh.  I know the BBC are desperate to get bums on seats, and also to out-fox the spoiler bastards on the internet, and have already ruined this in general, but did they have to put both finale villains in the Next Time trailer?  Yes, we all know they’ll show up eventually, in the last episode at least, but couldn’t we have a little suspension of disbelief in tact?  How good can an episode be when you know, a week in advance, you’ll have to act surprised?

Sunday, 11 June 2017

Mission To Mehs

Doctor Who
Empress Of Mars
Series Ten, Episode Nine

Good morning, world!  Isn’t it a beautiful day?

Okay, so Doctor Who is following its almost impressively awful resolution to a three-parter about omnipotent Monks... with a Mark Gatiss episode.  That’s not a cause for celebration by any means.  But consider: when Steven Moffat dives out of his office window to freedom in just a few months, it’s entirely possible that his best friend will follow.  This could be the last Mark Gatiss episode ever!  Break out the confetti, hire a mariachi band!  Viva life!

*scans script, sees "This isn't over!" and "You'll regret this!" among his lines*
Oh hi Mark.
I’ve said it all before, but he keeps coming back so it all still applies.  I’m sure he’s lovely, he’s a very entertaining actor and he clearly loves the show, but like a lot of fan-fiction, loving it and being good at making it are different things.  He loves musty old episodes of Doctor Who so, god as his witness, he will make less-good versions of them.  He’s also got a keen interest in history, and almost no aptitude for bringing it to life.  And here we go again.  Ah well: Empress Of Mars does at least staple together Mark’s Favourite Doctor Who Stuff (Ice Warriors, Tomb Of The Cybermen) and Mark’s Favourite Historical Era (Victoriaaaanaaaa), creating something that’s sort of new.  Plus it might be his last one.  So, big smiles, forgiving mood, off we go.

We begin at NASA in the modern day: a centuries-old message can be seen on the surface of Mars, and the Doctor and co. happen to be present to find that out.  The scene only exists to point the Doctor back in time to 1881, which is a somewhat redundant, but hey, rather Moffaty way to kick things off.  Shortly after their arrival, Nardole is whisked back to Earth by the TARDIS, for reasons that will… okay, hold that thought.  Sans Nardole and TARDIS, we quickly find the episode’s trump card: there are Ice Warriors (of course), and Victorian soldiers on Mars.  Even better, despite assuming the latter are on the offensive, it appears they’re all working together.  The Doctor’s assumptions and ours take a step back, which is bloody rare in a Mark Gatiss episode.  It’s looking good so far.  Who doesn’t love a steampunk astronaut?

The humans found a lone Ice Warrior (nicknaming him “Friday”) in a crashed ship and came back with him to Mars, promised riches on arrival.  This puts the Doctor in an awkward position: Friday is obviously leading them down the garden path, but the humans are also technically invaders.  Where do his loyalties lie?  This could be very interesting, and so could that thing about the TARDIS.  But remember who we’re dealing with.

Pretty soon a tomb is discovered, and an especially sticky-fingered idiot presses the wrong thing and awakens an Ice Warrior.  Sigh; this isn’t the first time Gatiss has added a greedy dimwit just to get the plot rolling, and the last time he did it was also an Ice Warrior episode.  (In Cold War, another absolute moron seemingly gets bored waiting for the title sequence, so he blow-torches a frozen Ice Warrior.  D’oh!)  The whole scene is a groan-worthy reminder of how Gatiss handles period pieces, i.e. with all the stock stereotypes he can muster.  It’s “ruddy” this and “what!” that; when a lowly officer whines that he didn’t get any tea, his Sarge says “RHIP!”  Oh dear, are they going to spell that out?  “Rank Has Its Privileges!”  Of course they are.  (Oh, and no prizes for guessing Sarge has been slipped a mickey.)

It may seem like news to, ahem, someone, but people were fully rounded people back in the good old days, not just a bunch of archetypes.  Nonetheless, the greedy one in this exists to move the plot along and then die; the weary commanding officer exists to have his Dark Secret revealed (he’s a coward!), then heroically restore his honour (he’s not a coward any more!); the other stock Gatiss figure, the Slippery Officer Only Out For Himself (see Cold War again), exists to pointlessly impede the Doctor and co. (to make the episode longer), expose his commander (because he’s nasty like that), ironically turn out to be a coward as well (duh) and then get what’s coming to him.  As for the lowly grunt who spends a minute or so going on about his lovely fiancĂ©, and how he can’t wait to get home, get married and pick daffodils, to borrow a line from Holly: they’ll need something to grit the path with.  There isn’t a third dimension in the house.  (Or much resolution: the CO leaves with the Ice Warriors at the end, but theres no mention of where the rest are going.) 

Officer Thievey Movetheplot, reporting for duty!
Still, we’ve got the Ice Warriors.  Virtually ignored by modern Who (and come to think of it, most of classic Who as well), the problem with them is that we’ve already seen them in two different lights, so what’s left?  They were evil, then they weren’t.  They certainly look fantastic, unless you show us the silly face-hugger thing that lives inside which, thank Christ, this episode doesn’t.  (For balance, like the Cybermen, they’ve randomly changed their attack method: now they shrink you into a bouncing corpse ball.  If you found this horrifying rather than hilarious, well done you.)  Their various codes of honour add a pleasantly balanced dimension to them, and the script at least tries to add a bit of diversity on top.  Friday is determined to resurrect his people, but prefers not to murder the humans who brought him here.  He’s quite nice, really.  The rest of them… well, they could be a bunch of sentry guns for all their input, but we can’t give lines to everybody, can we?  (Let’s just be grateful that Nick Briggs doesn’t seem to be doing Every Monster Voice Ever this week.  Did they send him out for chips and lock the door?)

Probably the only New Thing here, besides the fusion of Jules Verne and Ice Warriors (and the scrunchy-kill-gun), is the Empress of the title.  Gatiss promised a new kind of Ice Warrior, and he has delivered… a female Ice Warrior!  Not much is added to the mythos of Mars, besides confirming that there are two genders at work.  Small universe, huh?  The Empress’s dialogue invites aggressive scenery chewing and that’s dutifully what we get from poor Adele Lynch.  I had flashbacks to the Racnoss; dear god, no thank you.

Frustratingly, the episode gets less interesting when the Ice Warriors wake up.  (Not least because the director shows them emerging after newly-woken Ice Warriors are seen stomping around.)  What of the Doctor’s dilemma, and where his loyalties lie?  Turns out it’s not that important: the soldiers act aggressively, the Ice Warriors react badly, he’s unable to broker peace, there is much running and shouting, the twatty officer sticks him and Bill in a cell.  Thanks to the now heroic commanding officer (who dispatches Twatty in a manner awkwardly akin to Del Boy falling through a bar), as well as Friday The Lovely Ice Warrior, humans and Martians sort out peace all by themselves.  No wonder the TARDIS buggered off.

Oh, and about that: Nardole panics and lets Missy out of the Vault.  Contrary to expectations, she actually helps him get back to Mars.  This could be brilliant: the sardonic, but still ultimately comic relief Nardole would absolutely wilt next to Missy.  Imagine!  But this stuff is almost entirely off-screen.  Of explanations for the TARDIS’s behaviour, there are none; it’s all just setup for next week.  I hope.  The way they’ve handled the Vault plot, bungling the reveal of who’s inside it by not bothering to have a scene where they throw the doors open and show us, I wouldn’t be surprised if Missy was back inside and no more said about it.

"Terrific.  Now it looks like a penis on a screen."*
*Joke for the people who know who this is.
I said I’d be positive and forgiving and, well, obviously didn’t mean it, so let’s try harder: unlike Sleep No More and Robot Of Sherwood, Empress Of Mars executes its premise without fundamentally cocking it up.  (Robot presents a clichĂ© version of Robin Hood, shrugs and says it’s accurate; Sleep is a found footage movie with linking narration.)  There’s something very bonkers and fun about Victorians on Mars.  The Ice Warriors really do look fabulous.  I don’t think they’re as interesting as some might like to think – they have more moods than a Dalek and are less intractable than a Sontaran, and that’s about it – but it’s nice to have aliens that don’t get conveniently wiped out at the end.  I’m also not convinced Empress cracks the case for having them back on the regular, but then it doesn’t really try, merrily setting them on a course for The Curse Of Peladon and sealing that continuity gap.  (Look it up; it’s better than this one.)  The cameo from Alpha Centauri is a nice treat for fans of ’70s Who, although it’s shot and scored as if more than a fraction of the audience is going to know who the hell that is.  Best of luck with that.

Top of the list of positives – no prizes at all for guessing – is Peter Capaldi.  This script is utter fodder for the Doctor, down to his Silurians-esque quest to broker peace, but he lifts it up at every opportunity.  The scene where he weasels information out of the Victorians is hilariously deft, and he sells stuff like “the creature within is at one with its carapace” like Tom Baker on his best day.  Conversely, Bill asks some fairly dippy questions and makes movie references; I suspect it’s a case of “I don’t know what the new companion will be like, but I’m sure the actor can fill it in later,” and it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.  The Empress thinks highly of Bill literally because she’s also a woman.  Fascinating character work there.

It sticks together well enough, and it’s far less appalling than last week’s.  But it’s also not a script you’d rescue from an office fire.  On balance, after Sleep No More, thats still a win.  Now cross your fingers.

Sunday, 4 June 2017

Monk-y World

Doctor Who
The Pyramid At The End Of The World and The Lie Of The Land
Series Ten, Episodes Seven and Eight

Here we go then: after a 45 minute teaser trailer for The Invasion Of The Monks, it’s finally here, stretched over two episodes for maximum oomf.  Here, says Series 10, is a villain to really send you scurrying behind the sofa.  Budge up Daleks, Cybermen and Weeping Angels?  We’ll see.

Extremis made a good case for how powerful they are.  They can create an entire simulated reality full of thinking people and run it as often as they like, studying humanity’s response to any number of crises, all so they can figure out the optimum way to invade.  Then along comes The Pyramid At The End Of The World, in which they’re more hands on.  They can change every clock in the world just to mess with you.  They can kill you with a touch, melting you Raiders Of The Lost Ark style in seconds.  They can teleport you at will.  They can stop a plane in mid air, pluck a submarine out of the sea, and gently plop them both down on the sand.  This episode, like Extremis, is mostly here to get our attention, and it succeeds: the limits of their power are unnervingly unknown.

"We chose this form to look like you."
Uh... thanks?
Is this whole thing just them being crap at making friends?
The same goes for what they want.  Yes, they want to rule the world, but why?  They have all these amazing powers – although they are oddly reliant on CCTV, maybe work on that one lads – but in order to get a true foothold, they need our consent.  More than that, it has to be pure: if the person giving it is not “powerful” enough to give said consent, and is not “pure” about it, they’ll die.  You’ve got to be full of love and want nothing more than a lovely future full of Monks.  Which is what practically nobody in this situation would feel like, right?  The Monks keep telling them the world is about to end and permanent subjugation is their only hope.  That’s terrifying, so of course everyone who tries to give consent will be bricking it, or just trying to think of something that will help.  How does this sort of thing ever work?  Jesus, they’re picky.  If they’re so bloomin’ omnipotent – and there’s more of that to come in the next episode – why bother with consent at all?  Why’s it so important that they’re “loved”?  (Just a thought: maybe work on your skincare, and don’t tell us we look like corpses to you.  A nice first impression might have helped.)

Some of this is legitimately mysterious, and I like it.  Bad guys with seemingly limitless power and weird motivations = a good starting point.  The rest is still irritatingly unanswered at the end of the second episode, and some of it is completely undone.  But let’s keep our Pyramid At The End Of The World hats on for now.  What this episode does is build a scenario where Bill needs to agree to their help, and it does that very well.  (Apart from the bit where Bill is filled with love for the Doctor, not the Monks, and has the obvious ulterior motive of wanting him – heck, directly asking for him to get his sight back.  What are the rules again?)

We get off to an odd start as, chopping back and forth to a Previously teaser, Bill recounts the plot of Extremis (which she only knows second hand) to her date.  Why she thinks this will jump start a terrific evening beats me.  She also runs through the “hilarious” incident with the Pope showing up in the middle of things (and inherently gay-shaming both of them, boom-boom), which they both laugh at, so shut up, it is hilarious and it’s not misjudged!  And then we get the same joke all over again when the UN Secretary General turns up, only it isn’t particularly a joke this time, so… just a weird coincidence then?

Through Bill, the army acquires the Doctor and Nardole, spiriting the whole bunch to a military hot-spot between American, Chinese and Russian armies.  The Monks have deliberately landed here to get everybody’s attention, and they want their consent before the world ends – by our own hand.  It’s quite novel to hang the ticking clock on something other than aliens doing a Thing Of Doom: in this case it’s a biological mishap in a lab, unbeknownst to the nice people working there or anybody else.  Tension clicks up as the episode goes along, with only the Monks and us seeing what’s happening there.  The Doctor suggests attacking the Monks as a show of strength (bit odd?), then the military agree to work together to prevent a presumed World War Three (bit sweet), and then they try giving consent instead (doomed).  Alas, it’s not pure enough so they die; damn those picky, mouldy bastards!

The Doctor uses his smarts to find the Lab Of Doom and tries to fix the problem himself, circumventing the need for Monks in the first place.  His plan is to sterilise the contagion by blowing up the lab.  I kind of want to put a pin in that, as it’s the third time “blow the place up” has been his plan this year.  (Also, stick a pin in “attack the pyramid with everything you’ve got” as well.  Provoke them, you mean?  He’s bloody lucky the Monks aren’t the vindictive sort.  Idiot.)  There’s only one problem with this, besides his blossoming pyromania: he gets stuck in a locked room and he can’t see the keypad.  He hasn’t told anyone other than Nardole that he’s blind, so no one can help.  He’s about to die, although the world will survive; Bill decides to give the Monks her consent just so he can get his sight back and live.

Hooray, he escaped!
Let's hope that one shut door prevents him from dying in this explosion.
Get in the bloody TARDIS, you plum!
And I love it.  The whole setup hums with tragedy and drama; it feels like we’re about to get a regeneration, since it closely resembles the Tenth Doctor and the four knocks.  It also puts the Doctor’s blindness to some actual use, and even better, it addresses the ongoing problem of his sonic sunglasses being such a useful crutch that he might as well not be blind from a script point of view.  (“Who needs sight” indeed.)  How often do they actually take note of something that doesn’t work, and take it to task?  Is it Christmas?

This is also the perfect moment to let Bill know the truth, admit his limitations, and inadvertently lead her to the only solution that will get him out of here, which of course is the worst outcome for everybody.  That kind of sudden humbling is very welcome in an episode that has the Doctor yet again beating his chest about what a grand poobah he is.  It’s pretty hideous: the cringey President Of The World gig is resurrected; the Monks call him “the greatest power on Earth”; he says things like “There is a line in the sand, and I’m the man on the other side of it”; when the Monks say the Earth is doomed, he says it’s “been doomed before.  Guess what happened.  Me!”  If you make the Doctor literally the boss of the entire world as well as the only thing between alien invasions and us (because UNIT are mysteriously absent, because um), it becomes a bit irrelevant that there are actually other people here, and it makes him into an awful, over-inflated bore.  The ending does something to chip away at that, but it gets worse before it gets better.  I hope they can give it a rest now.

Anyway, that’s Pyramid At The End Of The World.  Kudos to Peter Harness and (oh all right) Moffat: the Doctor tries to be clever and it isn’t enough.  Bill acts out of friendship and hands the world over to the bad guys.  That’s basically it – apart from Erica the scientist, who is great and then disappears before the next episode – but bloody hell, where do we go from there?  The answer, sadly, is The Lie Of The Land.

I’m often defensive about Toby Whithouse’s scripts.  Yes, the plots are almost always bollocks, but he has a great knack for writing the Doctor and all his facets, usually giving whoever’s driving the TARDIS a decent show-reel.  He can also write brilliant comedy, and his episodes are often blessed with wonderful casts; sod it, Vampires Of Venice looked lovely too.  This time there’s no falling back on comedy, or at least not successfully, however; there’s simply not enough delightful secondary stuff to distract you from what’s wrong here.  The entire script is the problem.

We’re immediately jolted six months ahead from the last episode, into a world rules by the Monks.  They’re not just in charge of the present: they’ve tampered with our memories so that they’re seemingly threaded throughout history, monitoring and encouraging all of our achievements.  Sort of like the Silence.  The result is a world that either lives in unthinking, blissful obedience or fear, with government stormtroopers tossing anyone even vaguely rebellious into a black van never to be seen again.  Sort of like The Last Of The Time Lords, down to the “some time later” starting point.  (At the start, when a mum is torn away from her family and sent off to van-land, it even looks like the same street where that happened to Martha’s mum and dad.)  All the while the Doctor is transmitting propaganda, bolstering those wonderful Monks who only have our best interests at heart.  Unlike the rest, this bit is actually quite original, but don’t worry, they’ll cock it up in a minute.

Martha – sorry, Bill is just getting by, hoping the Doctor has a plan but unable to locate him.  Nardole turns up (having not died from the contagion in the previous episode – glad they put that to good use) to announce that he’s found the Doctor, and off they go to the prison ship that holds him.  Since he’s a willing participant in the Monks’ plans, I’m not sure why he’s locked up.

Get it?  The Doctor is imprisoned, in a sort of... vault?
Yeah they don't make that connection at all.
Oh yeah, spoiler alert: the Doctor is totally in with the Monks.  Yes, he wasn’t especially happy about it to begin with, but the Monks offer a peaceful (albeit totalitarian) way of life, which is more stable than where we’ve been headed lately.  He deflects Bill’s enthusiasm and loudly points out when she’s trying to use a code to see if he’s lying.  She’s incensed, as the last six months have involved untold numbers of people getting killed or put into labour camps (where else?), and the Doctor won’t help.  He rightly says it’s Bill’s fault we’re in this mess, and all things considered he’s just glad it wasn’t the Daleks.

Now the episode is hurtling towards a crossroads, and there’s a lot to unpack.  Up to now this bit, with the Doctor turning traitor, isn’t exactly believable (because duh, it’s the Doctor), although the reason he gives isn’t bad.  But it’s still compelling.  Pearl Mackie superbly handles Bill’s dismay that the last six months have been a false hope, and that her friend has let her down.  Peter Capaldi is as ferocious as the Twelfth Doctor ever got in response.  Then she shoots him.  Four times!  And yeah, the fifteen minutes (!) we’ve spent in this world have been pretty gloomy and North Korea-ey, but that’s nowhere near enough to sell the depths of misery she’d need to actually murder her friend and confidante.  Or anyone, really.  Four times?  But, stepping back, the scene was pretty good up to then.

And then we get something we’ve all seen in the trailers, the Doctor regenerating.  Now, just like the Doctor turning traitor, nobody really thinks a new Doctor is going to stand up afterwards.  This isn’t the last episode of the year, it’s not even the end of the bloody episode; we know it ain’t gonna happen.  But hints have been dropped that this regeneration will be “different”, so who knows?  Maybe it will take a couple of episodes?  In any case, it was intriguing, and it got people to tune in.

Surprise!  He’s not regenerating at all!  He hasn’t turned away from humanity and he’s not helping the Monks, he’s just pretending so he can test Bill’s loyalty.  Everything, including the regeneration, is for show; he and everyone in the room besides Bill have a good laugh about it afterwards.  The audience?  Probably not so much.

Was there a version of this script that went somewhere else?  Dragged out the Doctor’s treachery, for instance?  Had Bill’s uncertainty about it take longer to manifest in something as horrifying as a gunshot?  (Sorry, four gunshots.)  I don’t know, and I guess it doesn’t matter.  What we get is another fake-out regeneration which serves no purpose at all.  Who’s it for, since Bill doesn’t know anything about regeneration?  The answer is: the people who make trailers.  What an unbelievably cheap, underhand bit of marketing.  It cries wolf (with an actual regeneration just around the corner – nice one), and cheapens the whole drama of regeneration, all at once.  Brilliant.  Of course it’s completely misjudged and immediately chucks cold water over the scene, as well as the whole episode; how could it not?  After two and a bit episodes of sheer build-up, the dramatic stakes have reduced before our eyes.  Well fucking done.

As for how he's faking this, obviously no explanation at all.
Did... he just waste a regeneration?
On top of all that, Bill is comically flustered by this and has completely got over it by the next scene.  You what?  She was ready to murder him a minute ago.  For all intents and purposes, she did.  Why isn’t she finding an actually loaded gun to point at the bastard for putting her through all that, and then laughing about it?  Back in the Classic Years, the Doctor did something similar to Ace, destroying her faith in him to weaken a monster.  They then addressed how utterly brutal that was, and it was part of an ongoing arc about Ace’s faith in the Doctor, and how much of a good guy he was.  (Remind you of anyone?)  Here it’s just a gag, complete with typically blundering (and in places, self-plagiarising) Murray Gold Plinky-Plonk Music.  The whole scene starts out promising only to triumphantly crap the bed for the entire episode, and pretty much the last two since this is where it’s all been heading.  There’s no coming back from that.  Screw this episode.

But I’ve started, so I might as well finish.  The Doctor needs a plan (incredibly after six months of twiddling his thumbs while people are being killed, he hasn’t done this yet, preferring to help the Monks maintain control – isn’t that swell!), so he visits the person in the Vault.  Sorry everyone, it really is Missy.  (Yes, Extremis made that clear, but they didn’t show her inside it.  When will I learn to stop expecting these things to go anywhere?  Of course it’s just something they should have included but stupidly didn’t.)  Missy has met the Monks before and knows they link to a world via the person who gives their consent: kill them and it’s all good, or put them in a brain dead coma for even better results.  Suitably enriched with this blob of obviousness – seriously, why couldn’t he figure that out? – the Doctor promptly decides not to do that, because obviously he won’t harm Bill.  Meanwhile Bill puts a pin in it for later.

The Doctor and co. visit the Monks’ HQ, which is largely unguarded as there are really only about a dozen Monks to go round.  Once they’re inside – using taped instructions to easily counteract the Monks’ brainwashing – they swiftly get past a couple of Monks, apparently shooting them dead.

Before we even get to the climax, how massively shit is that?  One episode ago, the Monks had untold power.  They could move planes and teleport people, magically restore eyesight and kill with a slight touch.  This week they’re not only taken by surprise – which makes a laughing stock of the whole “simulation” thing and Extremis in general, since the entire point of that was to foresee everything – but they’re apparently as mortal as you or me.  It’s one thing to expose the weaknesses of a frightening enemy, another to shrug and say “No, they were actually complete shit all along, I just forgot.”  The threat of the Monks, along with any need for three episodes about them is by this point stampeding towards the horizon.  And there’s more to come.

The Monks are transmitting fake news (hi-yo!) and fake history to people everywhere, using Bill as their psychic link.  (Bill is allowed to roam freely though, even when she’s visiting the Doctor and a Monk gets all up in her face only to wander off again.  You might want to lock that down, guys…)  The Doctor plans to use his fantabulous brain to erase the damage.  It doesn’t work, so Bill steps in, knowing it will kill her, one-way-or-another resolving the problem.  Buried somewhere in this is a reversal of the last episode’s ending: if Bill dies the world is saved, and the Doctor doesn’t want that to happen.  It could be dramatic, although it reverses nothing, since Bill’s still making the decision.  But then, with the menace of the Monks in tatters and the overall story’s bed crapped, the episode somehow gets worse.

The ending is a garbage fire, so here's Missy being annoyingly compelling.
I'm onto you.
Bill’s made-up memory of her mother is “pure”, you see, so the Monks can’t counteract her efforts as they did with the Doctor.  Aside from one poor mouldy bastard sat frozen in a chair, there are no Monks to stop them.  There are pictures on screens (thrilling) and plenty of talking, much of it terrible.  The Doctor gazes up at screens as Bill’s made-up memories save the day – love, you might say, conquering all – and Capaldi is forced to utter: “You clever, brilliant, ridiculous girl!  All those pictures I gave you, I thought I was just being kind but I was saving the world!”  Well, what can I add?  It’s ghastly, Moffat-esque overstatement of the obvious, just wince-inducing overstatement in general, and somehow it manages to have the Doctor pat himself on the back for someone else saving the day.  As a solution it’s so bollocksy and easy that it could be a spoof of similar episodes.  As drama it’s Pearl Mackie giving an Indian head massage to a corpse and the Doctor talking us through it.  Then everybody hates the Monks and they just go away.

To recap: the non-bulletproof, easily surprised, hopelessly outnumbered Monks are defeated by pureness and love – things they previously required to take over the world – so they toss away all their effort, pack their things and quietly bugger off.  They don’t even have any dialogue in this episode.  What about the simulations?  To quote the Doctor, “Think what they’d know.  Think what they could do with that.”  Like, for example, guess what tricks Bill could pull at the end?  Sod all that, apparently.  Why do they so need to be loved if they’re just going to brainwash everybody?  No idea.  Why don’t they do something at the end, since they were nearly omnipotent last week?  They just don’t.  Yes, they might be back for the finale to wrap this up, although the spoilerrific BBC have already told us it’s getting crowded.  But Missy said earlier on that when they previously got booted off worlds (oh so they’ve failed before, how terrifying), they “chalk it up to experience”.  The whole thing is like Toby Whithouse was handed an interesting premise and told to absolutely murder it.

I’m sure Steven Moffat thinks it’s a novel idea to farm out multi-parters to different writers, and it’s his last year so who even cares, but this approach clearly doesn’t always work.  Think how much better this could have been with a proper guiding hand, a plan, and time to execute it well.  Instead all this important stuff is barfed into a single rushed episode by somebody else altogether.  Of course it’s a belly flop.

So what are we left with?  Bill seems pretty chuffed that humanity done a good, but really all she’s done is offer a counter-acting form of brainwashing – it was all her.  The Doctor is quick to tiresomely point out that we’re a bunch of forgetful assholes and no one will have learned anything.  As for the many people who were murdered or imprisoned, neither he nor Bill seem to even remember any of that happened – even though, unlike Last Of The Time Lords, the horrendous time they’ve all endured is not reversed.  It all happened.  And it meant sod all.  Bill’s character hasn’t grown, despite the harrowing things that happened to her.  (Betrayed by the Doctor, now she’s over it; she loves her mum, yep, still does at the end.)  The Doctor hasn’t changed, despite driving her to murder; you can forget the usual Toby Whithouse character beats, as he oscillates between sadistic prick and caricature.  The only character learning at all in this episode is Missy, gamely scene-stealing thanks to Michelle Gomez.  She gets a tacked-on therapy session at the end, the Doctor watching as she cries over her dead victims.  Aw, maybe she’s turning good after all?  If you believe that, see me after: I’ve got a bridge going cheap.

Are the Monks coming back?  Possibly, although with a change of showrunner due they’d better lickety-split.  Either way, even a bunch of omnipotent beings would have their work cut out to unbollocks this lot.