DR WHO: THE MASQUE OF MANDRAGORA (DVD)

This story would make a gripping novel involving spooky goings on in catacombs, the evocation of a time where science was beginning to overhaul superstition as education spread and the arrival of an immensely powerful alien energy. As a limited budget pre CGI TV programme it often struggles to convey either the period richness or the power of Mandragora. Well dressed sets mean we at least get our eerie catacombs while fresh location work in Portmerion helps, but San Martino is sparsely populated and the few inhabitants it does have rarely look more than slightly annoyed by the goings on. The passions that the `new science` should inflame are for the most part sidelined in favour of the somewhat tedious Count Frederico whose political strategy is to kill everyone, backed up by bogus predications from his soothsayer Hieronymous whose hair appears to have journeyed from his head to his chin! Perhaps it was an experiment that went awry. Both characters vie for broad pantomime villainy undercutting the lyrical aspects of Louis Marks’ script though sometimes the writer only has himself to blame for the results his dialogue generates . Elsewhere he does convey the wonder of the age in the persona of Giuliano and his exchanges with down to earth confidante Marco and of course the all knowing Doctor. The story is far more of a success than it should be because of Tom Baker who invests much into its themes – his Doctor looks at home here- and the fact that Marks writes a resolution so Doctorish it should be watched by any aspiring series writer to this day. As for the dreaded Helix itself, some CSO diamonds and a superimposed sparkler are unlikely to have convinced even in 1976 but once it settles in stone, matters do improve. James Acheson is the other key player - the costumes are more convincing than most of the people wearing them and the Demnos masks suitably menacing, especially in the strikingly directed attack on the masque. Marks never really clarifies the alien’s broader intent but it does provide the story’s visual strengths with Hieronymous’ face of light and a convincing sequence where the power is transferred from the altar to the brethren. Unusually for a 70s story, MOM gets better as it progresses, even more so when the tiresome Count is despatched at the end of part three. Though its position in the shadows of later classics from this season is unlikely to be changed there is some good material in this lesser known story and a bonus is the excellent making of feature in the extras.

These two reviews were intended for use in issue 26 but didn’t make it to the issue so are reproduced here instead…

DR WHO: THE WATERS OF MARS

reviewed by Chris Arnsby

Bits of The Waters of Mars are downright excellent. That's a horrid and mealy-mouthed way to start a review because it gives away the fact that this is going to be mostly critical but it needs stressing because otherwise what follows could seem like 800 words of shin-kicking. The entire sequence from the Doctor entering the airlock to his return after the destruction of the escape shuttle is possibly the best moment from this year of specials. The acting, direction, music, it all comes together to create a doom-laden atmosphere as the crew of Bowie Base One try to escape intercut with the Doctor's haunted expression as he listens to the desperate crew-chatter on the radio. Special praise needs to go to whoever rigged the lighting for the spacesuit helmet; in certain shots it makes Tennant's face look skull-like. It's a simple effect but it works wonderfully and adds to the increasingly sombre mood as three of the Mars base crew die in quick succession. But it takes something like forty-five minutes of a one hour episode to get to this point, and those forty five minutes don't seem to be filled with very much except a collection of ideas which all seem great when examined individually but never quite gel.

The monsters look wonderful (all drooling and gross, even if some of the shots of them spewing water look unintentionally comic) but don't do much beyond standing around looking eerie. What are they doing at the end of the story when they start shrieking around the disintegrating ice sheet? Are they shrieking because it's breaking up? Are they breaking it up by shrieking? It looks suspiciously like they're just doing something because the writers feel it would be a bit weird not to see them again between the explosion of the shuttle and the destruction of the base.

Knowing from the start of the story that the crew of Bowie Base One are sentenced to death by history should lend the story a grim inevitability but instead it seems to kill the tension stone dead because ultimately we know the Doctor isn't the sort of hero to walk away and we're waiting for him to pull that million to one rabbit out of a hat and save the survivors. Putting him in this role also sidelines him for chunks of the early plot while he does nothing more than look guilty and try to make his excuses and leave. Worse, it's ultimately a bolt on moral dilemma. Snip out all the “fixed moment in history” plot and it could be attached to almost any other story. Blink; the Doctor realises with horror that he must allow the statues to send Sally Sparrow back in time to fulfil her destiny. Partners In Crime; the people killed by Adipose Industries have to die because the knowledge that aliens exist will drive the human race out into space to seek its destiny, but slimmer and with a better resting heart rate. Granted, that last one was a bit glib but the point stands. Although the story looks like it should be about the Doctor wrestling with his conscience and deciding who makes the rules you can take that whole sub-plot away and be left with a perfectly serviceable Doctor vs. the monsters on Mars story, which is not really something you can say about Father's Day or The Fires Of Pompeii; to take two stories which play with similar concepts. There if you take away the moral dilemma about messing with history you rip the heart out from the episode.

Maybe the problem lies with the idea of doing a year of specials. From a selfish perspective I'd much rather have some Doctor Who than none but it places too much pressure on each individual story to be an event. When you've got thirteen episodes to play with Planet of the Dead would make a great season opener but it feels too lightweight to be one of only four hours of Doctor Who in a year. Likewise, The Waters Of Mars would work well in a full series, especially one that had weeks to examine the Doctor's position as Time Lord Victorious but here that feels rushed and dealt with in a scene where the Doctor goes a bit bonkers for five minutes before realising he's gone too far.

Focus on what's good. Adelaide Brooke's suicide, another incredibly dark moment for a family series and the point where you realise the Doctor has taken responsibility for her death far more than if he had left her to die on Mars. The Doctor's stating of his name, rank and intention when he arrives in the base. Maggie changing behind Yuri as he talks about his brother. The hero shot of the Doctor re-entering the base, backlit as Murray Gold's music bursts into life, which manages to be simultaneously laugh-out-loud over the top and absolutely right for the moment.

Ultimately I wish I could be more positive because for those brief moments, and around ten minutes towards the end, The Waters of Mars was brilliant.

DR WHO: THE END OF TIME

reviewed by John Connors

We didn’t really expect Russell T Davies to conclude his tenure with a modest little story now did we? Course not. We expected- and received- a gigantic big epic, albeit one different in tone to Journey’s End. The latter had seemed like a full stop on many aspects of the era and indeed the subsequent two Specials showed some signs of treading water. Good enough, yes, but vital? Possibly not. Thankfully Waters of Mars opened up a new seam, one that dug to the heart of the Doctor as a person and the things he did. Journey’s End, in retrospect, was looking at other people’s reaction to the Doctor and how he had shaped them from Donna to Davros. The End of Time takes the Doctor’s own view, allowing us some insight into his feeling and fears while contrasting it with those of an ordinary Earth man, Wilf. If the cause of regeneration turns out to be a very familiar one, a self sacrifice for a single person, the means of getting to that point are very different.

The End of Time welcomes- and needs- at least three viewings before things settle in your head. In fact there’s more than a little timey wimeyness about it; once you realise the Time Lord scenes are set in the Doctor’s (and our) past and that this is why the Doctor had to stop and seal the Time War it starts to make more sense. It’s a story we’re drawn into by prophesy, a fictional device that can look like narrative weakness if not handled well. Davies gets this right- tying it up with the Ood, an increasingly fascinating creation, it plays right back to earlier stories so that only now you can see how detailed a tapestry he’s woven. Yet just as amazingly he makes one crucial slip up. In the cafe scene where the Doctor is telling Wilf about his impending death, he goes out of his way to mention the four knocks. “He will knock four times” he says with emphasis. Now we, the viewer, already know this and it is irrelevant detail to Wilf, so why does the Doctor say it at all? Imagine if he hadn’t? Imagine Wilf knows nothing about four deadly knocks when he starts tapping the glass? As it is, the scene is still brilliant; largely because we’d forgotten about those four knocks by now- we all assumed it was The Master and the drums (or the banging of the oil drum in part 1). The point is if Wilf had known about the four knocks, wouldn’t he have avoided knocking four times? Of course, and that would never have done, so zip back and cut the relevant line in the cafe scene. You don’t always have to explain everything, as later Davies proves by declining to have it said out loud who the mysterious Woman is, yet it is clearly the Doctor’s mother. Yet it’s better that this is never said on screen.

This Doctor’s finale, despite all the fire and brimstone surrounding it, is a personal battle with the Master. While their clashes are always enjoyable, the latter’s plans are often bafflingly obtuse and this time is no exception. What raises the bar however is our realisation in part 2 that his entire behaviour has been caused by the drumming in his head placed there by the Time Lords somehow (and after one viewing I’m not sure how to be honest!) so they can escape the Time War. This unlikely idea is a means to an end though and you cannot deny the power of John Simm in these episodes, a feral creation as desperate to live as the Doctor. Eschewing the rubbishy way in the 70s the two foes would shake hands and team up, Davies’ script plays a subtler game. Each of the Time Lords toys with the other and the result is electrifying leading to a crucial scene where the Doctor literally doesn’t know which way to turn. Somehow this kind of dilemma holds more power than the armies of swarming aliens that we now expect at season endings.

The Doctor and Wilf, eh? Aren’t they just brilliant together? Old men feeling their age, their weakness, yet still with fight in them. Both in his response to extraordinary situations and the dignity with which he acts, Wilf is probably new Who’s most realistic character of all. Bernard Cribbins is superb in grounding this story in a very human way and he interprets Davies’ top notch dialogue so well. For both John Simm and David Tennant too there is plenty to sink their teeth into- literally for Simm who chews chicken and scenery with equal relish though the key to his performance is the more thoughtful brooding moments with the Doctor. Watch his face in the scene where the Doctor is tied to the chair and starts to talk about how The Master could be different- Simm barely seems to move a muscle yet you can see The Master’s mood altering. Even as late as the Doctor uncertainty over whether to shoot him or Rassillon, when he tells the Mater to `get out of the way`; Simm’s face shows the character knows why. David Tennant fires on all cylinders giving quite the best final story performance of any Doctor though there are some who would say his responses are sometimes a little less alien and more human than perhaps they should be. I feel this fits in with what has been a most `human` Doctor, an alien who has learned as much from Rose, Martha and Donna as they have from him. Perhaps a little less effective was the return of the Time Lords, they just did rather a bit too much talking in the old style of the show and I sensed people’s attention might wander during the lengthy opening to part 2. Still, no doubting Timothy Dalton’s on screen power- he could yet return to James Bond as a villain! There’s plenty of time for action too; director Euros Lynn has over the years become part of the fabric of the show and delivers even more mind boggling stuff here. The way the Doctor / Master scenes are handled works very well and the dodging of missiles in part 2 has to be one of the best action sequences of the current series. Lynn seems to particularly love the faces of his cast- there’s a fantastic bit where we see The Master leaping into the Immortality Gate his face arriving directly in front of where the camera has been from the start. Elsewhere, he shoots in close ups between Tennant and Simm, or Cribbins, capturing every nuance of their performances. Murray Gold’s music remains an essential part of the show, never better than here where it takes an almost elemental position amidst the melee. Gold is endlessly inventive- I’ve heard his work in other things too- and manages to paint the mood; any intrusiveness is down to the sound mix rather than the quality of the music. Here, he introduces some of his most filmic music yet.

The final 20 minutes is a surprise bonus rounding off not just this Doctor but Russell T Davies’ entire era. It would probably be over indulgent at any other time but just like we do at Christmas, sometimes a little excess is just the thing and at least it is a lot more convincing than the similar way JK Rowling finished the last Potter. It’s a neat summation of the era’s strengths with some wry teasing, action, old monsters and a sudden beautiful moment that takes your breath away; in this case the bit where the Doctor reveals he borrowed a quid from Donna’s father for what will obviously be a winning lottery ticket. Then after all his nostalgic trips, it’s just the Doctor and us struggling in the snow (gosh, how prescient that felt when the winter arrived three days later!) with the lovely Ood singing him to sleep. The sheer elegance and poetry of moments like this (well, OK twenty minutes like this) is so bold and powerful. The regeneration itself is as fiery as Tennant’s Doctor has been-a contrast to his predecessor’s brave face at the end as this time he declares “I don’t want to go”. Needless to say almost everyone watching would probably have yelled “We don’t want you to go!”

And we don’t. In the end it felt like the full stop that we’d thought Journey’s End was. It felt like the best era in the history of the programme was over and it will never be this good again. Which is exactly how it should feel. For now, we can only cheer for the outgoing team who have created something incredible and enduring. Now it’s up to someone else to do it all again.

DR WHO: RUSSELL T. DAVIES WITH BENJAMIN COOK - THE WRITER'S TALE

Prevaricating and staying up all night while reminiscing about real hedonism (rather than hard work) Russell T Davies works on his last year running Doctor Who with the mood of a man wanting to escape- at least subconsciously. His mannerisms and messages in the first half of this second volume essay the thoughts of someone unhappy with their job even though he constantly denies that he is. It’s a fascinating read like its predecessor, if only because absolutely none of this comes across in the finished TV production. Watching most episodes you’d think they were the product of a secure, confident writer brimming with brilliant ideas and a rare sense of what works and what doesn’t. The Writer’s Tale tells us most of all that without his support team, RTD would never have made it through six years of this inner turmoil and journalist Benjamin Cook has, over the course of this correspondence, become part of that support team. Davies relies more and more on Cook’s neutral but perceptive feedback and more of the latter’s ideas about the course to take seem to make it to the screen – or not in several cases where he steers Davies away from some appalling concepts (notably a Star Trek crossover!).

Yet you can also see where Davies’ impatience with himself and other writers comes from as he talks more about his family and personal life this time displaying an unsentimental yet moving turn of phrase that is far removed from his jolly “marvellous” persona. At times, the book is just funny particularly in the build up Operation Cobra where Davey T announced his departure from the series and at times terrifying when an unexpected encounter with fans at an exhibition brings on a panic attack. Bubbling away in the background is the changeover with the new production team making their presence felt- a plan to use Daleks in `The End of Time` is scrapped after Moffett suggests he’d like a gap before they appear in his series. And there’s also the story of how `Waters of Mars` was almost cancelled due to financial issues. He talks interestingly of his writing process too, of the way he wanted the show to take place in the now, a Doctor Who in the present tense. He does seem aware of the criticisms made of this scattershot approach yet here’s also a sense of that amazing outburst from the Doctor in Tennant’s final episode in Davies’ simmering (albeit contained) frustration about how his input into lauded episodes on which he is not credited goes unrecognised. Finally, it is Cook who suggests he just take co-credits from the get go with the Specials and thereby share the credit. Like the first volume The Writer’s Tale is absorbing and informative, not just about the series or the man himself but about writing in general and the development of ideas. Don’t be put off by the size of the tome, you really should read every word.

And this is what we said about the original book in 2008:

You don’t just read this book, you sort of become part of it. Basically a year’s worth of often lengthy email correspondence between Doctor Who’s grand fromage and journalist Benjamin Cook it somehow entangles you to such a degree that after 500 odd pages I felt I needed to email Benjamin before doing anything. It made me like Russell less as a person, but admire him more as a writer which given the title is probably about right. So, if you’re expecting the Hooray Russell chirpily sitting in his Cardiff flat, then you’ll be disappointed, likewise if you’re hoping for a blow by blow `making of` in any traditional form. Instead what you get is infinitely better.

It is implicitly agreed early on that Benjamin will remain “Invisible Ben” an observer of rather a participant in the creative process whose function is to prod and probe Russell’s methods, means and motivations. Of course he is anything but invisible; the emails that pass between them become more and more entwined in the work itself, not so much in its fiction perhaps but certainly in its process and drive. They infect Russell’s thinking and make him consider aspects of his work- and even himself- in a way he had not before and that must have dripped through into the final results of the series. Benjamin’s questions are couched in sympathetic asides, interesting tangents and layman’s queries and thus obtain more complex complete responses than even the best one off interview would. He cajoles Russell into revealing more and more of his feelings towards writing, the tricks he uses, the relationship he has with the chaotic regime that is a Doctor Who season in full flow. Russell thus becomes brazenly open about his choices, his methods and even who he fancies to the point where after a few hundred pages the reader begins to dislike him. Benjamin meanwhile remains inscrutably aloof (we learn nothing at all about Benjamin except he goes to Glastonbury!) One thing is how remote he seems from the actual physical mechanics of production- in fact Benjamin seems to be on set more often than Russell is. The writer meanwhile often seems trapped in his four walls, swigging coffee and sucking cigarettes till 4am, typing in adrenalin fuelled frenzy. We quickly meet the nervy, self doubting, neurotic, opinionated, bluff Russell who will teeter on the edge of emotional burnout over plot details, procrastinate spectacularly over writing the first episode of season 2 of Torchwood (and end up not writing it) and ramble on about his inadequacies. At times he reminds you of the kid who spends all his time creating an elaborate revision timetable rather than actually just revising. If he treats himself badly then his treatment of others will send devotees of customer care programs into a spin. He admits how he can sack people on a whim, how he doesn’t care about upsetting them if it’s better for the programme. There’s a wonderful/horrible bit where he is happily talking of ditching a script that Mark Gatiss has been slaving over for a year and has to be reminded to maybe contact the latter first to let him know. He agrees with a verbal shrug. Elsewhere, he gripes about the amount of re-writing he does on everyone’s scripts; early on moaning about the plaudits Paul Cornell got for `Human Nature`, conveniently forgetting the latter wrote the original book! Then much later he spends days re-writing Helen Raynor’s Sontaran story leaving this reader somewhat embarrassed that I gave her all the credit in my review in Jargon! He’s a contradiction alright; he’d probably claim credit for `Terror of the Zygons` if he thought he could and yet he works so tirelessly on the show that you’re marvelling he’s even still alive! Paradoxically his own caustic views resemble those of the internet snipers he hates so much. What are we to think?

The one thing missing is his honest view on the finished product. He’s quite willing to take pot shots at Mine All Mine (which I still think is one of the best things he’s written) yet when it comes to, say, `Voyage of the Damned` which is covered in (perhaps too much) detail we never discover what he thinks. He suddenly reverts to Hooray Russell, going on about the ratings. It does makes you wonder whether he’s had us all fooled; whether the neurotic writer is just another character that he knew would make for a better read than anything more mundane. A pity too that he spends a lot of time talking about `Partners in Crime` and much less on `Midnight`, which is a far more intriguing script.

About a third of the way through the tone changes and becomes a bit more factual with some quite detailed information about the way he chooses and develops characters, the way that scripts and budgets tie together, that sort of thing. The book’s length is partly down to the reproduction of the entire scripts for both `Voyage` and `Partners` which only the truly dedicated are likely to read properly. The intensity of the exchanges palls for the final third and things conclude with Benjamin directly influencing the show by suggesting cutting the original end of season cliff-hanger where Cybermen appear in the TARDIS.

Other highlights include Russell’s superbly cynical account of attending the season 4 launch which will make some people who recognise themselves go into shock though for the rest of us it’s highly amusing. There’s an ongoing use of Skins as a counterpoint to Doctor Who as the two discover the brilliance of the former’s second season culminating in Russell sending a fannish email to Skins’ creator. We’re also taken through the early process for the 2008 Xmas Special giving us a feeling of what it’s like to see draft scripts of an episode we haven’t seen and we’re there when Steven Moffett says Yes to taking on the series , amazingly back in September last year.

The Writer’s Tale is a quixotic giant of a book, at once fascinating and infuriating. And best of all we can what we like about it because he won’t care. Hooray!!

TV: GLEE / FILM: SHERLOCK HOLMES / FILM: THE BOOK OF ELI

We don’t really have Glee clubs in our schools; the nearest thing is the regular play or panto but in the States it tends to be the place where the artistically inclined (read misfits) end up either because they’re talented or just because it’s the only place where they can find friends. Glee club is also the big rival for sports in terms of school attention and budget, a facet that is amusingly exploited in what is already 2010’s TV show de jour. Glee works because it doesn’t try too hard to be different and contains enough familiar aspects (and music) to cater for a wide range of tastes. It’s well served by a witty script and a likeable cast whose strengths paper over the notion that we’ve seen all of this before. With 22 episodes ahead though, you do wonder how they can sustain the entertainment quotient to be found brimming from the first trio. Hopefully the show will develop the nascent relationships and make us love rather than simply be amused by them and hopefully someone won’t threaten to quit glee club in every episode. Then again a show that can rehabilitate a Journey song can probably do anything! By week 22 we hopefully won’t have stopped believing in Glee.

Rinky dinky piano and high speed camera wipes herald the latest version of Sherlock Holmes courtesy of Guy Ritchie with Robert Downey Jr in the title role. That it works is no real surprise- London is as much ingrained in Ritchie’s every pore as it is in the original novels but that this new take is so fresh is rather more unexpected. Ritchie’s cameras are so busy it sometimes feels more like a 3D film which ably supports the rapport between Holmes and Dr Watson. All vestiges of smoky rooms and refined chat are swept away, replaced with a hectic cocktail of action and quips, all of it spot on. Rarely have the two characters seemed as vital as they do here. Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law are perfect casting, especially the latter who seems to have finally found a role that suits him in Watson’s long suffering demeanour.

The plot swirls with a mystical air, all beautifully deducted by Holmes who amusingly applies his prowess as equally to solving crime as to winning a boxing match with a heady mixture of the cerebral and the physical. If the ending is a little bit of a fizzle after some amazing set pieces (in particular our two heroes being chased by a ridiculously large assailant underneath a half finished ship) it does set up a sequel that should be unmissable. Having got back on form with RocknRolla, Sherlock Holmes is Guy Ritchie’s best film yet.

Post apocalyptic films tend to go for spectacle whereas The Book of Eli has a smaller focus. Directors the Hughes brothers set out a familiar enough stall- grimy brown palette wash, extreme violence, bleak soundtrack and much mumbling but there is a central core to this film that makes it work. Denzil Washington is the enigmatic Eli, travelling at the behest of God with what seems to be the only copy of the Bible left. Living on his wits (sometimes with rather unbelievable guile it has to be said) his progress is hindered in a shanty town run by nasty intellectual Gary Oldman who hordes books and seems to control the place. The narrative takes a while to warm up but once it does, opens up to become a story of hope even if we’re never allowed too much of window into Washington’s soul for reasons that become obvious later on. The violence does sometimes seems at odds with an intellectual thread that is never fully developed and when Michael Gambon and Frances de la Tour turn up as gun laden country hicks, it adds a brief humanity- and a dash of humour- that’s snuffed out too soon.

There’s a good ending though that manages to offer a little optimism to balance the grim reality and includes a satisfying twist you probably won’t guess helping to turn the Book of Eli into something a little more than many of its genre antecedents.

DR. WHO: THE END OF TIME

The best regeneration stories capture the essence of the outgoing Doctor adding a very personal note to a character we know and love. Sometimes it plays against type- Logopolis’ funereal aura seems to trap the fourth Doctor’s ebullience in pessimism whereas sometimes it adds a definitive flourish to what we already know- think The Parting of the Ways’ epic climax followed by a very selfless act. The End of Time combines both with the Doctor knowing he is to die and, in keeping with his lust for life- not wanting to yet in the end once again sacrificing himself for one person. There’s plenty of time for action (the dodging of missiles in part 2 has to be one of the best action sequences of the current series) and mind boggling narrative yet the very best parts of this story are small and fragile.

Russell T Davies’ wisely seems to have realised you can’t get more epic than last year’s Journey’s End smorgasbord of planets and returning characters. Instead, he makes the Tennant Doctor’s finale a personal battle with the Master. While their clashes are always enjoyable, the latter’s plans are often bafflingly obtuse and this time is no exception. What raises the bar however is our realisation in part 2 that his entire behaviour has been caused by the drumming in his head placed there by the Time Lords somehow (and after one viewing I’m not sure how to be honest!) so they can escape the Time War. This unlikely idea is a means to an end though and you cannot deny the power of John Simm in these episodes, a feral creation as desperate to live as the Doctor. Eschewing the rubbishy way in the 70s the two foes would shake hands and team up, Davies’ script plays a subtler game. Each of the Time Lords toys with the other and the result is electrifying leading to a crucial scene where the Doctor literally doesn’t know which way to turn. Somehow this kind of dilemma holds more power than the armies of swarming aliens that we now expect at season endings.

There’s also a strong thread about battle scars; Wilf and the Doctor’s scenes together- especially the one in the cafe in part one and on the spaceship in part 2 tap into the renewed respect for veterans of conflicts brought home by the real news every day. For all the strides taken in making companion figures more real, Wilf is probably new Who’s most realistic character of all, both in his response to extraordinary situations and the dignity with which he acts. Bernard Cribbins is superb in grounding this story in a very human way and he interprets Davies’ top notch dialogue so well. For both John Simm and David Tennant too there is plenty to sink their teeth into- literally for Simm who chews chicken and scenery with relish though the key to his performance is the more thoughtful brooding moments with the Doctor. David Tennant fires on all cylinders giving quite the best final story performance of any Doctor though there are some who would say his responses are sometimes a little less alien and more human than perhaps they should be. I feel this fits in with what has been a most `human` Doctor, an alien who has learned as much from Rose, Martha and Donna as they have from him. Perhaps a little less effective was the return of the Time Lords, they just did rather a bit too much talking in the old style of the show and I sensed people’s attention might wander during the lengthy opening to part 2. Still, no doubting Timothy Dalton’s on screen power- he could yet return to James Bond as a villain!

The mise-en-scene, the action, the inevitable tone- all of these are as sumptuous and thrilling as we have come to expect and no less impressive for that familiarity. We used to dream of Doctor Who being this bold, this striking and it is disappointing to read early reviews neglecting to even acknowledge this any longer. Plot wise there are few gaps but some of these offer us the opportunity for endless speculation such as whom exactly is the woman played by Claire Bloom (the Doctor’s mother? Romana? Leela?) and how was the Ood civilisation speeded up. The main plot is typical of Davies’s emotion led narratives and while there are elements that might be clarified, it can’t subtract from the power of what we see and personally I’d trade all the technical gubbins for some emotion any day. In that spirit, the final 20 minutes is a surprise bonus rounding off not just this Doctor but Russell T Davies’ entire era. It would probably be over indulgent at any other time but just like we do at Christmas, sometimes a little excess is just the thing and at least it is a lot more convincing than the similar way JK Rowling finished the last Potter. It’s a neat summation of the era’s tropes with some wry teasing, action, old monsters and a sudden beautiful moment that takes your breath away; in this case the bit where the Doctor reveals he borrowed a quid from Donna’s father for what will obviously be a winning lottery ticket. In one scene, Davies manages to wrap up a character arc in a feel good way and pay a little tribute to an actor who could have been a part of all this.

The regeneration itself is as fiery as Tennant’s Doctor has been- a contrast his predecessor’s brave face at the end as this time he declares “I don’t want to go”. Needless to say almost everyone watching would probably have yelled “We don’t want you to go!” Doctor Who has a neat line in what- if’s and any feeling that perhaps he should have stayed for a fourth season to work with Steven Moffatt is tempered by our first minute in the company of Matt Smith. Like Tennant himself- and the Doctor in this story says- the moment the regeneration is over, the old guy is forgotten and you can’t wait to see what the new guy will be like. If you stayed tuned and sat through another grumpy Eastenders you’d find out courtesy of a surprisingly revealing trailer which seems to indicate a new season not radically different to what we’ve already seen except for muted colour tones giving a sort of washed out look. And if his immediate post regen moments saw Doctor Smith channelling (rather well) the departing Tennant, one quiet line of dialogue - “Trust me, I’m the Doctor”- told us all we needed to know about how good he’ll be once he settles into his own persona. The Doctor is dead, long live the Doctor. All together now- Geronimo!!

FILM: James Cameron's AVATAR

"A beautiful car with no engine"- Stephen King, on Stanley Kubrick's film of The Shining.

This is, by some distance, the worst thing Cameron's had his name on since Rambo: First Blood Part II. The script is a laughable mess, littered with idiotic plot holes, galumphing exposition that wouldn't look out of place in Thunderbirds, banal dialogue and unbelieveable characters. I don't mean that you don't believe in them, but that you literally can't.

Have you seen Dances With Wolves? Then you've seen Avatar. The two films are in all honesty identical in plotting terms, with Jake Sully's "journey" - dear God almighty, I hate that term - mirroring Kevin Costner's beat for beat, and this is only one of the less obvious of the film's flaws. The story is so well-trodden and schematic, with set-ups so blatantly signposted you can see the pay-offs coming a good hour before they turn up, that literally nothing unexpected happens at any point in the film. Let me say that again for emphasis: IT IS POSSIBLE TO CORRECTLY GUESS THE ENTIRE STORYLINE WITHOUT SEEING A SINGLE MINUTE OF THE FILM.

The reasoning behind putting an untrained marine on an alien planet is frequently cited as being ridiculous early on, but there is never any real attempt to make it plausible, and equally baffling is the decision to make Sigourney Weaver's character a smoker in an enclosed environment with limited oxygen. It is also not explained why the US government is working alongside a private corporation on mining an alien planet, on behalf of the entire Earth. The script is a mewling, childish joke. The acting is something else.

Sam Worthington was plucked from obscurity for the lead role, and boy does he look it. When away from the CGI stage, he is merely unexpressive, without even the subtlety of expression to hint at hidden depths. When he is playing the alien Jake, his face gains movement. Sort of. The smile/frown acting he indulges in for the rest of the film is almost comical in seemingly depicting him as bipolar, and unfortunatly this cannot be easliy blamed on the technology. Zoe Saldana as the alien princess is perfectly fine and comes across very well through the rendering, demonstrating that Cameron's headcam gimmick can work, but only when there is expression to capture and an actor capable of communicatiing it. Pauline Kael once described an actor as "unattractively untalented". Sam Worthington could have been that actor.

Stephan Lang's performance as the villianous Quaritch has been singled out by critics, but in retrospect I have no idea why. His character is a depthless cipher of off-the-peg badness, who goes around doing evil things while nonchalantly drinking coffee or being similarly off-hand purely because he's evil. A token attempt is made at the end of the film to explain him as being loyal to the human race, but that really doesn't mean anything. Try replacing "human" with "master".

All of which is, quite frankly, a way of skipping around the elephant in the room: Cameron's "game-changing" visual effects.

Once the film reaches the half-hour mark or so, and Jake Sully's mind is transmitted into the alien-human hybrid, the CGI takes over. At first, the spectacle of seeing the alien world and its flora and fauna is impressive, but the novelty wears off very quickly and you soon realise that you are watching a computer-animated feature with live-action segments. This would not matter if the story or characters were compelling, but they are not. Because the story is so bland and unimaginative, and the characters so dull and generic, I never actually cared enough about what was happening to overcome the hurdle of films that use this level of CGI, namely the total absence of danger. Just as floating mountains look nice but are devalued when you can insert literally any conceivable landscape, so if you remove the appearance that your characters are ever under threat, or even that you should care if they ever would be, you are left with something which is completely unengaging on any level other than visceral excitement - and because everything more complex that people standing still and talking requires a militia of CG artists to draw it (even the song on the end credits, a bland dirge performed by professional blank Leona Lewis, required three lyricists), you are simply left with the impression of seeing a flurry of pixels whirling across the screen. Unlike the action scenes in Cameron's heyday of the late 80s and early 90s, real people are never in danger.

So is it really game-changing? Game over, man. Game over.