I've heard Mark Gatiss derided as a derivative writer. I always thought this rather unfair - fans are the first to complain when the show changes too much, and Who writers have always drawn from what they are reading, from Holmes' victoriana to Chris Boucher's Asimov retellings. Besides which, there is little evidence of this from his Who work. Unquiet Dead has been described as Hinchcliffey, but mostly because it's gothic horror and the genre has been used rarely since that era. It's also divine, a real favourite of mine. I've never been a fan of The Idiots Lantern, but its Twilight Zone stylings were more affectionate than kleptomaniac. And there was a lot to like in Victory of the Daleks if you ignored the rather limp plot - it borrows wholesale from the traditional war film, but why should it not? Caves of Androzani was only Phantom of the Opera with the bronze replaced with stainless steel.
But I confess, Night Terrors brought this argument rushing back to me. You see, this week, Mark Gatiss isn't doing a long-dead literary genre: he's doing Steve Moffat. Children in danger, the Doctor who values and sorts out things so small as a family, fairytale dolls house, moderately intricate plot, forgetting. Plus
the ending of The Doctor Dances, to cap the impression off. It set the teeth on edge at once - because I like Gatiss a lot, and hate finding evidence for a theory I've decided is wrong; because I dislike a lot of what Moff does, on similarly implacable and instinctive grounds. There's also a difference between a reference and a wholesale rewrite - using the baby masks from Brazil, and the shrinking bedroom from Time Bandits, is a reference.
And with that in mind, my brain started nitpicking. All of a sudden, its similarities to Fear Her - another much hated episode - were intolerable; not to mention to Idiot's Lantern. A scared little boy who hides his dolls in the closet? Nope, move along, no agenda to see here...
So let's try and focus on the positive. Night Terrors did better than either of those episodes at creating a world where children transfer their genuine fears to the supernatural. Idiots Lantern did gay kids in the 50s, Fear Her did child abuse (anyone got on the phone to Tennant yet about making sure he gets a run with the Olympic torch...?). Night Terrors was the least plausible - alien child! - but got the best emotional mileage. An alien allegory dealing for the idea of rejection by parents, and indeed, a sort-of queer subtext which is there if you want to see it, and not if you don't (similarly, there's a sort-of autism subtext for those interested). The scene where a scared Alex was being threatened by the landlord, coming through the walls to the ears of scared George, was standout. It might have been more satisfying if George's fears were justified, though. One little hug, and suddenly all his problems are sorted. Kids ain't stupid, and they can tell where they're not wanted. It's abundantly clear that his parents are worried, and it might have made more sense if the source of his fear was something external. Alternately, Alex turning around to say "I can't stand the sight of the little shit, and I definitely want him out now I know he's not human." That wouldn't be very life-affirminly Who, but it would set it apart from a swathe of episodes where simply facing your fears is a psychologically dubious way of solving problems.
I was a bit worried on first seeing the setting: for your average, British middle-class audience member, a council estate is the scariest place on earth. I'm really glad it didn't do anything tacky. Bit annoyed at the landlord, though - poor old Andrew Tiernan, he's got a face for bast
ards and I've never seen him perform anything remotely sympathetic, except perhaps in that Suede video. He is a middle class cliche of what council estate dwellers are like - complete with the big, ugly dog - and is accordingly vile, and is accordingly fair game to be picked off by Dolls. Disappointing - there's a difference between a character who performs the role of an antagonist to what the protagonists want, and a character who deserves to be turned into wood. Twas a mistake to let Amy get caught though - as soon as a companion is in that sort of peril, it is certain that she will be saved.
Alex is a great character well performed, though. I particularly love that he remains important to the plot - the Doctor needs his insights about George, instead of just dragging him along for someone to talk to. As much as I'm disliking this era, I love that for Eleven, rescuing a single child is as important as all the more glam Times Champion stuff. Just sitting in George's room to play. Trying to behave, by tidying the rubix cube he instinctively drops. Through crimson stars and silent stars and tumbling nebulas like oceans set on fire. Through empires of glass and civilisations of pure thought and a whole terrible, wonderful universe of impossibilities. I always want to hate those speeches, they are so contrived, and so authorly, and so beautifully written, and then performed, that I can't help but adore them.
I enjoyed the wonderful sickly yellow direction; wonderful sound effects, with the lift - I clocked the importance of that sound early on, but not what it was, which is the best combination. More than I can say for the plot - it was pretty easy to guess where Rory and Amy were. Or the scares which were, for me at least, more enjoyably hokey than genuinely scary. Still, I loved the surreal addition of huge scissors and eyeballs; the throwaway references to "Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday", or the "Emperor Dalek's New Clothes". Eleven has always reminded me of Chris Morris in Space, and never more than with his absurdist hat on. For all of this, though, the denoument is appallingly lazy - why would nervous George open the wardrobe after what he's just seen? Is the slo-mo only included to get the running time up?
I don't want to press the issue, but this was the second review I wrote for Night Terrors. The first was an embeded video of the McCann family's first press conference; I changed my mind because it seemed inappropriate. Of course, there should be little linking a real-life tragedy with a meaningless romp like Who, but I mean it as illustration for what is so wrong with Amy and Rory right now. It needn't be grim, but it needs to be there. Losing a child is perhaps the most intolerable thing that can happen to a parent, even before
you cram in all the sci-fi stuff. When the Doctor asks where they want to go, I'd have admired either of them more if they'd replied: "to find Melody, you incompetant alien!" I want to see them rewriting time so their little girl doesn't grow up to be a psychopath, squabbling with the Doc when he can't work out what's wrong, and even if the dialogue isn't there, I want to see a certain brokenness in their performances, a sense of sorrow even if it's not acknowledged. This week's plot, about a lost and frightened little boy who is terrified of losing his family, should have been intensely triggering to the both of them. Perhaps that, given the bizzare nature of the birth and soforth, their reactions will be very different from yer average parent. Well, say that then - give us scenes to appreciate how Amy and Rory's weird circumstances are making them think of it differently.
The internet tells me this is because Night Terrors was originally early on in Season 6A. You can't shuffle like this with an ongoing arc! It doesn't have to be dwelt on, but it does need to be plausible. And I'm going to say it on their behalf, every week, until they remember.
Ratings out of ten are a blunt instrument. How can you judge an episode which got 10/10 for all the little things, but screwed up on the big ones? 6/10 for being lazy, 7/10 for how much I liked it, 8/10 for the small moments squirreled away. 9/10 for being closer to the series I'd rather be watching. An above average episode I do not feel the need to rewatch any time soon? 6/10
No comments:
Post a Comment