There he is now: the Twelfth Doctor in his smashing new costume (I’m so stoked for the obligatory wardrobe scene!), along with Clara, who will have to keep a level head for the both of them until the TARDIS is on safe ground again.
On January 30, 2014 the Donmar Warehouse production of William Shakespeare’s Coriolanus was broadcast live in cinemas around the world. One of Shakespeare’s later and lesser known plays, Coriolanus deals with a deeply flawed character at the centre of the very crux of what politics is. In a democracy, the voice of the people is the thing that counts, for better or for worse. The very nature of politics, the negotiation of power in the public sphere, is at the centre of this story, personified in the titular character: Caius Martius, named Coriolanus for his single-handed victory in Corioles, is a brilliant warrior — but a shit politician. He hates the populace, he’s a classist aristocratic snob who believes that some were born to rule — to rule with an iron hand. The people, in his mind, don’t deserve welfare, participation in government, a voice. In short, democracy isn’t for him.
Trouble is, he’s living in one. Continue reading →
The answer to that — the usual. John Watson.
I recall calling The Reichenbach Fall brilliant television and a veritable rollercoaster of emotions. Then what am I to call this? Because this is even bloody better.
The facts of the case are these: Sherlock Holmes is a murderer. Continue reading →
I talked a lot about how Sherlock feels in my review of the second episode of Series 3. I’ve talked about how he’s terrified of losing John to domestic bliss, but also determined to let him and Mary go if that will ensure his absolute happiness — rather than Sherlock’s own.
But there’s another dimension to this, and that’s John and Mary.
Continue reading →
The producers have described this episode as the most “un-Sherlock” episode of Sherlock ever — but then, that’s not quite true. Why? Because this episode is about John and Sherlock. And that’s always been Sherlock at its best, and at its heart and core. Continue reading →
Raggedy man… good night.
And ‘good night’ we say — to the Eleventh Doctor, to the raggedy man, the madman with a box, to fish fingers with custard. But even as we say good night, we say hello — to the Doctor. The same man, who will never forget who he used to be. Still is. Always will be. Just with new kidneys. Continue reading →
Today: Apéritif (pilot).
What I love most about the pilot episode, apart from the very way that the characters are introduced to us and the way this world is set up on the screen and in our minds, is not one specific scene. It’s how the many, many ways that Hannibal manipulates Will are introduced in that one single inference and implication of Hannibal killing the girl in the field. Continue reading →
Previously on Almost Human: Skin.
“You know how I take my coffee?”
“Yes, I, unlike you, I pay attention to details, like what time it is. And what time you’re supposed to pick up your partner for shift.”
“Oh, I pay attention to details, like you just stuck your finger in my coffee!”
“If you like, I could stick it somewhere else.”
And the fanfic just writes itself.
That was amazing. You know why it was amazing?
Because the Doctor can go home, now. That’s the big birthday gift Steven Moffat has given to the Doctor and to us: an end to the great regret, an end to the darkness that was driving the Doctor, the darkness that drove Eleven to breaking point. It was either this or give up. And that’s not something the Doctor does. The Day of the Doctor reminded us — and himself — of just that. After centuries of mourning, the Doctor can feel hope again, can move out of the shadows, into the light. An arc that began in 2005, with the Doctor coming to face the things he has done, slowly but steadily breaking apart his own soul, has come to an end.
“You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning? That sound brings hope where ever it goes. To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone. However lost. Even you.”