Five Things We Hope to See in Doctor Who’s Season Seven

As of this Saturday night’s season seven premiere, it will have been exactly eleven months to the day since Doctor Who was last regularly seen on our TV screens. Expectations for a new run of episodes are always high. But for some, this season’s hopes verge on borderline desperate. See, season six didn’t go over particularly well with many hardcore fans. Drunk on the success of his partial reinvention of the show the year prior, head writer and executive producer Steven Moffat went and made the series his own — arguably more so than any other producer before him.

On Moffat’s watch, Doctor Who became a celebration of the clever, rather than the intelligent. One-liners were traded back and forth in place of conversations. Sexual innuendo took the place of declarations of passion and love. All of this was reflected in his quartet of lead characters’ ongoing need to keep their emotions guarded, a departure from the exposed heartbeats often on display under former creative lead Russell T. Davies. When they weren’t engaging in snarky wordplay, Moffat often forced the Doctor and his best friends, the Ponds, to endure uncomfortable silences at odds with the Doctor Who we’ve come to know.

Read the rest of my first article for Vulture by clicking here and visiting their website.

Also, I'm returning to the world of Doctor Who recaps starting this weekend. Links to my Vulture pieces will be posted here on Sunday afternoons. 

Doctor Who: Spearhead from Space Special Edition DVD review

Looking for a review of the “Spearhead from Space” Blu-ray? Click here.

Having been critical of some of the recent classic Who Special Edition DVDs, it’s great to be in a position to bestow some kudos once again, as “Spearhead from Space” is a story absolutely deserving of some double dip love, especially given that, alongside “The Five Doctors” and “The Robots of Death,” it was one of the first three stories released on DVD back in September of 2001. First is a word that’s used frequently when talking about “Spearhead.” It’s the first story of the 1970’s. It’s the first story in color. It’s the first tale of Season Seven. It’s the first story of Jon Pertwee’s era, as well as the first story with Caroline John’s Liz Shaw. It’s the first story to feature the Autons. It’s the first story to explore in some detail the process of regeneration, and the Doctor’s physiology (we’ve got your first mention of two hearts, right here!)

Now that’s a lot of firsts, and yet what to my mind overshadows them all is the fact that “Spearhead from Space” is the first - and only - story from the classic series shot entirely on film[1] and on location. If it weren’t the sole instance, that fact would likely be lumped in with all the other firsts, but since visually this tale is such an anomaly, its filmic aspects tower above almost everything else. Once one sees “Spearhead,” one cannot help but wonder what the rest of Doctor Who might’ve been like if everything that followed had been produced in this manner.

One major criticism that all too often gets lobbed in the direction of classic Who is that it frequently looks cheap, due to how much of it’s shot on videotape. One thing unlikely to ever be said about “Spearhead” is that it looks cheap; dated, perhaps, but not cheap. Shot entirely on 16mm, this thing looks like a coolly classic horror sci-fi flick from the early 70’s. It has such a different style that much of it is borderline unrecognizable as Doctor Who. (Obviously, your mileage may vary.) As for why this happened, and why it never happened again, well, let’s leave a few mysteries for you to discover via the DVD.

So, all these firsts tend to dominate any discussion of “Spearhead,” to the point where the story itself doesn’t get talked about nearly as much, but then again the story isn’t necessarily one of its strongest aspects. It’s a good, old-fashioned alien invasion yarn, sure, but it’s not exactly bathed in brilliance from a plot or character standpoint. What is its greatest strength, however, is in how perfectly Robert Holmes’s script reinvented Doctor Who from what it was before. In one fell swoop it became virtually a different TV series from the six seasons that preceded it, and laid down a new template that would be followed and/or experimented with over the next few years (though in fairness, credit also needs to be given to “The Web of Fear” and “The Invasion.”)

Further, an argument could easily be mounted that it was here, within the confines of “Spearhead,” that the seeds for modern Doctor Who were laid. You’ll find inspiration from “Spearhead” in no less than “Doctor Who: The Movie,” “Rose,” and “The Christmas Invasion,” and what those stories all have in common is that each of them is a “starting over” point, and they all seemingly had the good sense to reach back to this tale as a means of doing just that.

There’s loads of talk and info on this DVD about how and why Doctor Who was very near the brink of cancellation at the end of the Troughton era, and that the only reason it was given another season is because the higher ups at the BBC couldn’t come up with a worthy replacement. In this instance, thank goodness for their uncreative minds, because if not for the greenlighting of another season with a new Doctor, and for Derrick Sherwin’s bold reinvention of the series, it’s highly unlikely we’d be talking about Doctor Who today. Sherwin’s a guy who doesn’t often get a lot of credit for his contributions to the series, but he did some really important stuff in regards to Who (or at least he claims to have). While “Spearhead” is a story of many firsts, in the case of Sherwin it was his last, for it was after the production of this serial that he was moved off of Who, and Barry Letts was brought in as his replacement. 

If there’s a star of “Spearhead,” it’s undoubtedly the Autons. Simply, the series had never seen anything like them before, and children raised on steady diets of Cybermen and Daleks must have been truly and genuinely terrified by the shop window mannequins coming to life, and going on a killing spree across London. These creatures didn’t feel like fiction from outer space, but seemingly a tangible threat kids could understand and relate to in a way that few Who monsters before them achieved. But alas, shop window dummies proved to be something of a one-trick pony, as the sequel to “Spearhead,” “Terror of the Autons,” proved by being considerably less effective than the original, and the Autons wouldn’t threaten the Doctor again until 2005, in the aforementioned “Rose.” (Due credit must also be given to Steven Moffat for his own reinvention of what an Auton can be via Rory the Roman.)

As far as double-dips go, “Spearhead” looks as clean and perfect as ever I’ve seen it (and boy have I seen some crappy looking versions of this over the years). I don’t know if it’s quite a night and day difference from the 2001 DVD. I attempted to do some screengrab comparisons for this piece, but ultimately decided to not go that route as I couldn’t see major, breathtaking differences via frame by frame comparisons. That said, this serial’s been cleaned up considerably in contrast to the old DVD, and the new extras more than make it worth returning to the well. Besides, the bit of the excised Fleetwood Mac song “Oh Well, Part 1” has been reinstated into the factory scene. (For purists, this is great news. For Mac freaks like me? A long overdue necessity.) My only complaint? If ever there was a classic Who story that begged for a Blu-ray release, it’s this one, and it sure would’ve been nice if a chance had been taken, as this would be a treasure in 1080p.

[1] The only other Doctor Who story shot entirely on film was the aforementioned TV movie from 1996, but this writer doesn’t consider that part of the classic series, because, well, it’s not. It stands on it own. I’m not saying it’s not part of continuity, just not part of the classic series.

DVD Extras: Aside from the now dated “Who’s Who” featurette, everything from the 2001 DVD, including the commentary with Nick Courtney and Caroline John, has been ported over for this release, so you can pass your old disc on to a Who newbie with confidence. New to this disc is a second commentary track featuring Sherwin and Terrance Dicks, which is lively, informative fun. Sherwin’s something of a blowhard, but that’s part of his charm. He reminds me far more of an American producer than a Brit. “Down to Earth” is a fine, proper making of doc, even if at 22 minutes it feels a little short. It includes bits from a vintage interview with Jon Pertwee, which is a nice bonus. “Regenerations: From Black and White to Color” feels as if it’s an extension of the first doc, and its title is fairly self-explanatory. Additionally, there’s a nice selection of Radio Times listings in PDF form, and a trailer for “The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.”

Metropolitan & The Last Days of Disco: The Criterion Blu-ray reviews

Filmmakers who only make movies when they feel they have something worth saying are a rarity in this age, where it seems the goal is to see how quickly one can be hired to helm the latest, biggest superhero opus. Whit Stillman has only made four movies since 1990, including his hyphenate debut, Metropolitan, which was released that year, and rather amazingly snagged an Academy Award nomination for Best Screenplay. It lost to Ghost, which, from today’s perspective, is a travesty, but typical of the Academy nevertheless. 50% of Stillman’s filmic oeuvre, including the aforementioned Metropolitan, along with The Last Days of Disco (1998), both hit Blu-ray last week, and from the fine folks at Criterion, no less.

When I think of Stillman’s films, what I think of first is the speech; the way the characters speak. His films are drunk on subtle affectations of the English language (but not necessarily the language itself). It isn’t that, in a Stillman movie, what the characters have to say isn’t important, but rather that you’ll find yourself almost hypnotized by the manner in which they’re saying it. No doubt some viewers will be just plain annoyed by the incessant, rhythmic chatter. Those people will not find the next film of his any more tolerable, because there’s no question that a Stillman film is a Stillman film. I’d use the word unique if not for the fact there are now four of them. Now, all of that said, Stillman’s dialogue is second to none, and positively crackling when heard within the context of the situations he devises, and coming from the mouths of the memorable characters he’s created.

Metropolitan follows a group of young, rich people living in New York City during Debutante Season, which apparently coincides with Christmas break. Now you must understand that I was born and raised in small town Missouri, and have spent my adult life in Texas. There is no reason on this Earth or any other why I should care about these people and their cushy situation, and yet Stillman writes characters that interest, and therefore their situations are of interest as well. The kids in Metropolitan are interesting because they genuinely appear to struggle with their existence. It’s easy to write privileged folk as shallow. Most do. What’s tough is giving them some sort of depth, which Stillman does. Into their privileged lives stumbles Tom Townsend (Edward Clements), who is not privileged, nor is he rich. The group accepts him (some quicker than others), as they are basically decent people and they recognize a kindred spirit in Tom, and the film showcases one complex conversation, argument and/or debate after another, all draped in some wraparound, romantic entanglements.

I’ll never quite understand why Metropolitan is reminiscent of some John Hughes movie from an alternate universe, yet for me it is. It’s sort of like The Breakfast Club, if that movie had little interest in appealing to the masses. I think Stillman wants his movies to be appreciated and liked (any filmmaker who’ll tell you otherwise is lying), but I think he also knows there’s a specific audience for his work. I’ll not venture out and guess who that audience is, because by my own admission I don’t feel as though I’m part of the target, and yet I’m endlessly amused by his universe. It’s anyone’s guess who’ll like a Whit Stillman movie, and the only way to find out is to dive in and see if it’s a club you want to join.

Chris Eigeman

Some years after Metropolitan, in 1994, Stillman unveiled Barcelona, which starred Chris Eigeman and Taylor Nichols, both of whom had made their big screen debuts in Metropolitan. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that someday soon, Barcelona also gets the Criterion treatment. Four years after Barcelona came The Last Days of Disco, which ended up being Stillman’s last movie until 2011, when he brought us Damsels in Distress, which I must confess I have not yet seen, as it played for only a week in San Antonio, but is hitting DVD and Blu-ray in September.

But we’re here to talk about Disco, and The Last Days of it. Much of what I wrote about Metropolitan applies to this movie as well, except that Stillman had a bigger budget and access to all sorts of folks who at the time were up and coming Hollywood talent: Chloë Sevigny, Kate Beckinsale, Matt Ross, Robert Sean Leonard, and Matt Keeslar to name a few, as well as Chris Eigeman, the De Niro to Stillman’s Scorsese for the third time in a row. Or the MacLachlan to his Lynch. Someday, for a lesser known director and actor combo, I will hopefully say “The Eigeman to his Stillman.” Disco follows a group of twentysomethings in the year 1980, or maybe 1981, as they navigate their way through the changing times. Their self-involved dialogue covers their places in the world to sexuality to careers to, of course, disco. With a Whit Stillman movie, you can’t always tell when he’s taking his characters seriously and when’s having a laugh at their expense. Such lines are blurred, and that’s a big part of the charm of his style.

What I believe to be the triumph of Disco, is that despite packing the movie from one end to the other with disco hits, and regardless of the fact that much of the film takes place in a Studio 54-like nightclub, the movie never once, not even for a second, feels in the least bit kitschy. It is a Whit Stillman movie first and foremost, and his style never gets swallowed by the tacky surroundings, nor does he as a writer or director ever rely on nostalgia or wallow in excess or wink through the camera. The title of the film is wholly accurate, and yet it’s a film that shouldn't be judged by that title. Simply put, you may have no interest in disco yet still appreciate this work. No mean feat, no lack of vision and talent.

It’s tempting to suggest that these two movies would make a fine double feature, but I won’t. The day these discs arrived I watched Metropolitan, and let it wash over me. A few hours later I put on Disco, and within ten minutes I realized that I couldn’t watch two Stillman movies in one day. They’re too thick for that. The movies leave the viewer with so much to think about, that one cannot simply move on to the next one. I ended up putting a week or so between the viewings and Disco felt all the stronger for it. It was perhaps the most rewarding viewing of the movie I’d ever had. In some ways the same can be said for the Metropolitan viewing, simply because I’ve never seen it look as nice as it does on this Blu-ray. (It may even have been the first time I saw it in its proper aspect ratio.) Disco has always looked reasonably good, so this presentation wasn’t exactly revelatory, but a nice Criterion presentation nevertheless. (If you're interested in Blu-ray screencaps, I recommend looking at the articles at DVD Beaver here and here.)

Whit Stillman

Blu-ray Extras: The star extras here are undoubtedly the commentary tracks. Metropolitan features Stillman, editor Christopher Tellefsen, as well as Chris Eigeman and Taylor Nichols. It’s an informative track to be sure, and certainly well worth a listen if you’ve any interest in grass roots independent filmmaking (indeed, Metropolitan is one of the poster children for true indie filmmaking). The Disco track features Stillman, Eigeman, and Sevigny and by comparison is a great deal more fun and flirty, due to Sevigny’s lively presence.

Additionally, Metropolitan offers up some deleted scenes and some alternate casting choices, with optional commentary, as well as a booklet with an essay by Luc Sante. Disco also has some deleted scenes with optional commentary, an audio recording of Stillman reading a chapter from his book, The Last Days of Disco, With Cocktails at Petrossian Afterwards, which was published a couple years after the movie was released. There’s also a behind-the-scene promo featurette from 1998, a stills gallery, and a trailer, as well as a booklet with an essay by David Schickler.

Doctor Who: Death to the Daleks DVD review

Back when I got into Doctor Who, around ’84 or so, its seemingly vast universe was entirely new to me: Over 20 years worth of a series that I now had the opportunity to immerse myself in. Needless to say, I dove right in and through Sunday night screenings on PBS, Target novelizations, and an assortment of reference books, I got pretty caught up over the next few years, and most of that trivia I carry with me to this day. During this time I was completely in awe and maybe even a little jealous of anyone who’d been watching the show since it started in ’63. Or even 1970. Pick a year that’s far enough away from ’84 so as to command some respect. For these people, in my mind, surely Doctor Who was not merely a show, but a way of life, for they had seen the passage of two decades reflected in this wonderful, imaginative TV series.

Fast forward to today, and close to another 30 years have passed, on top of the aforementioned 20. Doctor Who will be celebrating its 50^th birthday in 2013, and the show is picking up rabid new viewers all the time. There are people for whom Matt Smith is their first Doctor – people who after discovering him, go back and see the Eccleston and Tennant episodes for the first time, and maybe, if they’re really taken by the concept, they go even further back into the show’s history and look at Tom Baker or Jon Pertwee. To those folks, might I now be one of those people I envied and was jealous of? I’ve got this whole history with Doctor Who, and have been following it through some frequently turbulent times, all the way up to the massively successful beast it is today. But I use the word “might,” because I don’t know if there’s the same kind of respect for the show’s history today that maybe there was 30 years ago.

There’s such a surplus of genre material on TV available to fans these days (certainly far more than in '84), and as such there’s always something newer and cooler right around the corner. Sitting in this tiny corner of the internet, I write about some of the more obscure aspects of what’s currently the most popular sci-fi TV series on the air. Does anybody really care about all this history? The answer is, of course, yes. The Rued Morgue has its regular readers, and plenty of folks actively searching for specific classic Doctor Who DVD reviews end up on this blog as well. What’s bothersome to me personally is that I know that most fans of the new series are content with just the new series, and in between seasons, they’re not seeking out these classic adventures that form the basis for the series today. So whether you’re relatively new to the Whoniverse, and you’re here reading about classic Who for the first time, or have been getting into the classics for a while now, I’d just like to say good on you for your appreciation of and/or interest in everything that came before. These classic tales are the backbone of Doctor Who, and the upcoming 50th anniversary won’t be something that happened overnight.

Now all of that said, I couldn’t have written a more elaborate, reverential intro for a more mediocre classic series entry. It’s easy to take Daleks for granted when you’re a fan of this show, as they’ve always been there. (Some may not even know there was a period during pre-production of the new series when the estate of Dalek creator Terry Nation looked as though it wasn’t going to allow the Doctor’s most infamous foes to be used - a potential development that seems unthinkable and impossible at this point.) At this stage of the classic series, the production team was whipping out Dalek stories right and left. The previous two seasons had featured “Day of the Daleks” and “Planet of the Daleks,” while the season following this one would unveil “Genesis of the Daleks.” All three of those are reasonably good to excellent tales, and so it falls upon “Death to the Daleks,” from Jon Pertwee’s final season, to be the weakest of this unofficial early to mid-‘70s quadrilogy. After giving this DVD two full viewings, I’ll at least give the serial (and Nation, who wrote it) some credit for trying to add a couple twists to the Daleks…even though those twists end up not terribly exciting.

The Doctor (Pertwee) plans to take Sarah Jane (Elisabeth Sladen) on holiday to the planet Florana, where the water is effervescent, so swimmers just sort of automatically float. The TARDIS ends up elsewhere – the planet Exxilon, which is about as far from a holiday planet as one could imagine. It’s a dirty, muddy hole with an ancient, impenetrable city at its center. Making matters worse, the city drains the power of anything and everything in the surrounding area, so the TARDIS runs out of power entirely. This is one of those rare instances where the Doctor is actually forced into having a dangerous adventure.

Exxilons on the planet Exxilon

Outside the TARDIS is the indigenous Exxilon population – grunting, cloaked waxen-faced figures - who attack first and ask no questions later. Also present are a group of humans (the Marine Space Corps), and hot on their heels, a group of Daleks. Both groups are searching for a rare mineral called Parrinium, which exists in abundance on Exxilon, and is the cure for a space plague that’s running rampant and laying waste to both species. Like the TARDIS, the Daleks find that their power has been drained, and so their energy-based weaponry no longer functions, and they are forced into an uneasy alliance with the humans. One thing’s for certain – nobody is going anywhere as long as the ancient Exxilon city continues exerting its force over all the parties involved.

(l-r) Pertwee, Duncan Lamont, Joy Harrison, Julian Fox

On paper, “Death to the Daleks” doesn’t sound all that bad, but there’s something of a disconnect between script and screen here. It lacks the necessary “oomph,” I think, and the first two episodes in particular move like dripping molasses. It’s the sort of pacing one expects from and will typically excuse in a Pertwee-era six-parter, but in a four-parter like this one, it’s a bit indefensible. The human characters are all terribly stock, and their attitude toward their mission lacks any kind of urgency. Duncan Lamont’s portrayal of the pivotal character Galloway, in particular, is exactly what’s wrong with this serial; the guy’s just sleepwalking through this script, collecting a paycheck. The crippled Daleks retrofit their weaponry with standard, bullet-based hardware, which sounds potentially much more exciting than it actually is; director Michael E. Briant never makes the most of what he has to work with, and instead the whole production feels as if it’s just “getting by.”   

The Doctor and Bellal

In the third episode, the story introduces the character of Bellal (Arnold Yarrow), an underground dwelling Exxilon that doesn’t share his surface-dwelling relatives’ beliefs or subpar intellect; aside from the regulars, Bellal’s the most interesting character in the serial, but that may only be because there’s no real competition in the interesting character department. The Doctor’s trip into the Exxilon city with Bellal manages to kick the entire affair up a notch or two, although much of what happens on their journey was bested in other, later classic Who tales such as “Pyramids of Mars,” “The Hand of Fear,” and even “The Five Doctors.” Yeah, that’s kind of the rub here: There’s little that “Death to the Daleks” does that the show didn’t do better somewhere else, although actress Joy Harrison can’t be found in any other serial, and she is quite the looker; enough so that even the Doctor seems more interested in protecting and comforting her than Sarah Jane...yet as a member of the Marine Space Corps, one wonders why she needs protecting by or comfort from a man who appears to be twice her age, dressed in a frilly shirt and a smoking jacket. (Clearly there are loads of women in the Whoniverse working through their daddy issues via the Doctor.)

Last, and far from least, “Death to the Daleks” features quite possibly the worst Who score of the ‘70s. Written by Carey Blyton (who’d previously done the oddball score for “The Silurians”) and performed by the London Saxophone Quartet(!?), this thing is just one step above “Wha-wha-whaaaaaa…,” sad-sack type music. Not real sure where Dudley Simpson was, but man oh man this serial could’ve used his magic, as Blyton was clearly the wrong person to add musical menace to the Daleks.

DVD Extras: Since most of the key figures involved in the making of this serial have since passed on, that leaves a rather oddball assortment of folks to fill out the commentary track: Actor Julian Fox (who is so enthusiastic about his work in this serial, it seems the highlight of his career), Dalek operator Cy Town, director Michael E. Briant, assistant floor manager Richard Leyland, costume designer L. Rowland Warne, and special sounds creator Dick Mills, all moderated by Toby Hadoke. If only they’d have found the janitor for this serial, my commentary dreams would be complete!

Go on. Have a chuckle.

The making-of, entitled “Beneath the City of the Exxilons,” is at its most engaging when Nicholas Briggs is speaking. It seems that he’s the world’s biggest “Death to the Daleks” fan, and, admittedly, through his enthusiasm, it’s easier to see the good in this serial, so by all means, don’t take my word as gospel. Sometimes all it takes to elevate the opinion of a dodgy classic Who story is one incredibly passionate fan, and that’s exactly what Briggs does here. Likewise, Fox appears here as well, and his cheery outlook on all things “Death” continues, but I was most stoked to see Arnold “Bellal” Yarrow interviewed, if for no other reason than because his character was such a highlight of an otherwise lackluster tale.

23 minutes worth of behind the scenes studio footage from this story is quite the cool addition. Even to someone who’s not a fan of the story, this was perhaps the bonus highlight of this disc. Also present is another entry in the “Doctor Who Stories” series, this time called “Dalek Men,” which features interviews with Dalek operators John Scott Martin and Nicholas Evans from 2003. “On the Set of Doctor Who and the Daleks” features some rare, behind the scenes footage of the first Cushing film. Finally, there’s the photo gallery, the production notes subtitle option, Radio Times Listings in PDF form, an isolated score(!), and a coming soon trailer for “The Krotons,” which was released on the same day as this disc.

Doctor Who: The Krotons DVD review

With the release of “The Krotons,” the short list of complete serials from the Patrick Troughton era of Doctor Who that can be released on DVD, have been. There’s very likely still fare like “The Ice Warriors” with animated missing episodes on the horizon (though that hasn’t been officially confirmed), and then there’s Episode Two of “The Underwater Menace,” which was found last year and has yet to see the DVD light of day. But as far as serialized storylines with all their pieces intact, this is currently the last of its kind. Yay? Many of the DVD reviews for “The Krotons” will likely be less than charitable. It’s not a particularly flashy story, and it will probably strike few as little more than filler between the lengthier, more epic stories featuring Cybermen and Ice Warriors that bookend it. And truthfully that’s precisely what it is, but that doesn’t mean “The Krotons” doesn’t possess a few merits of its own. For starters, it’s the first script to come from the pen of Robert Holmes, arguably the greatest Doctor Who writer of all time. This fact alone warrants that we cut “The Krotons” some slack.

The human-looking Gonds have been slaves to their unseen masters, the Krotons, for thousands of years. Every so often the Krotons call upon the best and brightest of Gond students to enter their massive “machine,” never to be seen again. What a way to keep your minions down; periodically remove the only people smart enough to someday mount any kind of revolution! But this is merely a side effect of the larger plan of the Krotons, who’ve been attempting to harness the mental power of those that enter their machine for generation upon generation of Gond. The TARDIS arrives on the unnamed planet, which smells of sulphur and sports two suns beating down on its surface. The Doctor (Troughton), Zoe (Wendy Padbury) and Jamie (Frazer Hines) come across a door, which opens on its own. Out stumbles the very same Gond - now clearly disoriented - that we previously watched enter the machine. Weaponry appears and within seconds the Gond is erased from existence. Our mortified heroes move on and into the Gond city, where they learn of the race’s horrific history with the Krotons, and how they’ve been trained to never go into the “poisoned” wasteland on the other side of the machine, and therefore are ignorant of what happens to those who enter it. Obviously, things have to be put right.

I think what really gets to me about “The Krotons” is the idea that this situation has been going on for thousands of years. Thousands! Actually, in one scene, somebody says “a thousand,” but what’s a millennia or two in a 90-minute sci-fi yarn? Either way it’s a preposterously long time for this society to have been operating under these conditions, and yet I find myself totally buying into the notion, to the point where Gond life is just plain depressing…and then one day this little man from the stars arrives and everything changes. The Gonds were likely so ill-equipped to deal with a world sans the structure forced upon them by the Krotons, it’s entirely probable they crumbled altogether after the Doctor quietly slipped away, but that’s another story entirely.

However, the real meat of “The Krotons” is not an imagined backstory, or even the one that might occur after it’s over. Most of the tale revolves around the power of intelligence, which the Krotons require for survival, and how the Doctor and Zoe come along and provide these bellowing creatures with the exact amount of “zing” they’ve been looking for all these centuries. Even if the Gonds are mostly cardboard, and the Krotons are mostly forgettable, the serial offers up many fine moments from our heroes. Troughton and Padbury really deliver some goods here, as if they realize the goings-on are all pretty mediocre, but if just they rise to the occasion, they may save the day in more ways than through the characters on the pages of the script they’re acting out. Frazer Hines gets some choice bits as well, but ultimately, in a story about intelligence, Jamie’s bound to be somewhat sidelined in comparison to his two co-stars. Indeed, this may even be Padbury’s finest hour during her time on the series.

The Krotons: Only menacing from the waist up!

“The Krotons” is an early effort from David Maloney, who, with fare like “The Mind Robber,” “Genesis of the Daleks,” and “The Talons of Weng-Chiang” on his resume, was clearly one of the greatest directors the series ever had; after Doctor Who, he would go on to be a major force in the world of Blake’s 7. Even with a script as frequently slight as this one, Maloney, like the actors working for him, makes the most of what he has to work with. Perhaps his best decision, though, was to make sure the Kroton creatures were largely shot from the waist up, lest viewers find themselves driven to distraction by the goofy Kroton skirts. As far as Robert Holmes goes, there’s not a whole lot in the serial that would ever really lead you to believe that one day he’d become one of, if not the definitive Who writer, although I’d make the argument that the Doctor and Zoe’s relationship here very much serves as the earliest example of the celebrated Holmes “double act,” which his scripts often featured. Also, it’s somewhat interesting to note that Holmes liberally stole from “The Krotons” many years later when he concocted “The Mysterious Planet” for the “Trial of a Time Lord” season. The two tales have numerous similarities that should be obvious even based on what I’ve written here. No doubt the Colin Baker serial works better, but then again it came at the very end of Holmes’s Who writing career, rather than this one, which kicked it off.

DVD Extras: A commentary track featuring Philip Madoc…great jumping gobstoppers! How did I write an entire review of “The Krotons” without ever once mentioning that the great Philip Madoc also made his Who debut with this story? Madoc, who passed away in March of this year, went on to play a substantial role in Troughton’s semi-swan song “The War Games.” Then in the ‘70s he achieved true cult status by bringing mad scientist Mehendri Solon to life in “The Brain of Morbius,” before his final contribution to the series in the “Key to Time” entry “The Power of Kroll” (which also came from the pen of Holmes). So anyway, the commentary features Madoc, with fellow Gonds Richard Ireson and Gilbert Wynne, as well as Assistant Floor Manager David Tilley, make-up designer Sylvia James, costume designer Bobi Bartlett, and special sounds designer Brian Hodgson, all moderated by the always amusing Toby Hadoke.

The standout extra here is a 52-minute doc entitled “Second Time Around,” which is a retrospective of Troughton’s era. Last month I took the “Resurrection of the Daleks” Special Edition DVD to task for its bitchy Davison-era retrospective. I’m happy to report that they get it just right here, with the proper mix of attitudes both reverential and realistic, featuring Anneke Wills, Debbie Watling, Hines, Padbury, Terrance Dicks, Derrick Sherwin (who, it’s revealed here, came up with the idea of the Time Lords [perhaps it was revealed previously on “The War Games” set or somewhere else; if so, I’m just now making note of it]), and maybe a few others I’m forgetting. For this doc alone, “The Krotons” disc is a must-buy for fans of this era of Doctor Who. Beyond that, there’s another entry in the “Doctor Who Stories” series; this time it’s an interview with Frazer Hines. As it is labeled Part 1, I can only assume there’s more of it to come on a future DVD (perhaps that potential “Ice Warriors” disc I mentioned earlier?) Also present is another entry in “The Doctor’s Strange Love” series with Joe Lidster and Simon Guerrier…but without Josie Long! It’s almost as if someone in charge is reading my reviews. Heh. There’s also the usual photo gallery, Radio Times listings in PDF form, production notes subtitle option, and finally a swell coming soon trailer for “The Greatest Show in the Galaxy,” which will hit DVD in August.

Louie: The Complete Second Season

Think of the structure of a typical “a guy walks into a bar” joke. The joke teller begins with that first line. Then he tells a short story, through which the audience, be it one person or a roomful, sits stone-faced. Eventually, the story leads to a punchline, and if the joke teller is skilled enough, the audience will erupt into laughter. Even though we didn’t laugh from the first moment he opened his mouth, it’s commonly acknowledged that everything that came out of his mouth was part of the joke. This all seems obvious I’m sure, but in trying to find a new way to talk about Louie, it hit me: These episodes are often structured like a joke – albeit a 20 minute one – with the punchline in the final moments. While those first 19 minutes might not be traditionally funny, they’re anything but tedious, and often run the gamut of emotions.

There’s never been a comedy show like Louie, and given how cannibalistic television is, it continues to boggle my mind that Louis C.K. gets away with such shocking displays of originality on a weekly basis. The show’s written and directed by and starring the same guy; has there ever been a scripted series that’s so clearly the all-around vision of just one person? Allegedly, even the suits and execs at FX leave him alone. Armed with a solid first season under his belt, and no doubt the confidence that comes with that, the comedian’s comedian sets out to dig even deeper into his psyche for the second block, and the results are painfully hilarious, with an emphasis on the pain.

Read the rest of this Blu-ray review by clicking here and visiting Bullz-Eye.

Harold and Maude: The Criterion Blu-ray review

[Note: All screengrabs in this piece are taken from the old Paramount DVD release of Harold and Maude and are by no means indicative of the video quality of this Blu-ray.]

Trying to find something profound or insightful to say about Harold and Maude feels like an exercise in futility; anything I’ve got, the film already says about 20 times more eloquently, yet let’s give it a whirl, but be warned, because you’re gonna get tons of “me, me, me” in this piece. I can’t write about the movie any other way. It’s too personal. Nor do I wish to offer up some kind of plot summary, which would be pointless. If you’ve not already seen this movie, then just go buy this disc, you poor bastard, and if you don’t like it, I don’t want to know you. There are few movies that grab me emotionally the way this one does; some of the others that do, like Shampoo, are also directed by Hal Ashby, who was one of the most gifted visual storytellers that ever lived. The guy had a knack for finding truth in the most unlikely of places; he made a career out of it. This ability of his was never more obvious than in Harold and Maude, the story of the awkward, depressed young man (Bud Cort) who falls for a free-spirited lover of life (Ruth Gordon) that’s four times his age.

Remember those people who were diagnosed with a sort of depression after seeing Avatar, because they were so affected by the movie that they wanted to live in that world, but couldn’t? Harold and Maude is my Avatar. It guts me. I have to be careful about the frame of mind I’m in when I watch it, otherwise it’s liable to send me spiraling into a state of melancholy, much like yesterday’s viewing of this Blu-ray did. This is an odd reaction to such a life-affirming movie, but I think the reason I respond like this is because it’s a reminder that I’m not living my life as fully and with as much joy as I should.

It’s so easy to be pessimistic in this day and age, because our culture is drenched in cynicism. How do you fight against what’s in front of you at every turn? Further complicating the issue is that there’s a potential price to pay for not joining in on the group skepticism and that’s that you may not be taken seriously. You may even, heaven forbid, be labeled naïve. Most everything we are as a culture today is the exact opposite of what Harold and Maude is (was?) about. If I could, I’d sit the entire country down, pass around joints, bongs and baked goods, and make everyone watch Harold and Maude simultaneously. If it made a dent for just one day, it’d be worth it.

One of my favorite lines, depending on which day I’m talking about the movie, is Maude’s, when she’s dealing with an angry police officer (played by an uncredited Tom Skerritt): “Don't get officious. You're not yourself when you're officious. That is the curse of a government job.” Harold and Maude is all about challenging authority, and it was part of a whole wave of films that were doing just that, although few of them managed to do it as sweetly as this one. It was made in era when film really took authority to task in a way it doesn’t today. Maybe it reflected the times. Back then people thought they could make a difference and cause change. They felt their opinions carried some weight and that authority figures like politicians had some decency buried deep inside them that was just waiting to be dragged to the surface. Nixon probably changed a lot of that, but certainly today – and this goes back to the rampant cynicism – too many people believe less in challenging authority than they do in dismantling it altogether.

So I guess Harold and Maude takes me to a time that I never got to experience (having been born about a month before the film’s release), and it does it in a way that’s not even remotely preachy or maudlin or nostalgic (or maybe it’s all of those things?). It’s a story of two people who’ve experienced tragedy and hurt and pain, and how one of them overcame it long ago, and is now intent on helping the other through the rough times, so they can both get to a better place. Folks have often placed an emphasis on the romance between the two leads, but that’s the last thing I think about when it comes to Harold and Maude, because it’s about so much more than that. There are a million romance flicks out there - many of them with pairings far stranger than this one - but there is only one Harold and Maude.

Having dealt with Harold and Maude for years now through Paramount’s DVD release (and before that on Paramount’s laserdisc), it’s never really occurred to me how much of an overhaul this movie might need, but the difference between that disc and this Criterion Blu-ray is pretty revelatory in terms of picture quality. Whereas before the movie was mired in muddy dark browns and greens, on this Blu-ray it’s now covered in eye-popping dark browns and greens, not to mention a whole other palette of surprising colors that I was never able to notice before. I often wonder with Criterion discs if some of these old movies look better than they did upon release. This one certainly looks better than I’ve seen it before, and in fact when I went back and looked at the Paramount DVD for screengrab purposes, I was rather stunned by how bad it looked. Also, in addition to the original uncompressed mono soundtrack, this edition offers up a newly remastered stereo track. The music of Cat Stevens has never sounded so good in a feature film.

Hey Criterion! More Hal Ashby on Blu-ray! Shampoo, pretty please!?!? You did that one many years ago on laserdisc and it’s time to go back to the well. 

Director Hal Ashby's Hitchcock cameo

Blu-ray Extras: In a perfect world, the special features here would be considerably more extensive, or at the very least there’d be interviews or commentaries with Bud Cort and/or Vivian Pickles[1], but alas, ‘tis not to be. Perhaps it was the lovely little 2011 interview with Yusef/Cat Stevens that made me want more? Yes, that must have been it. Because before this Criterion disc came along, I was satisfied with the content of the nearly bare bones Paramount DVD I’ve had for years. In addition to talking with Cat, there are vintage audio pieces (that play over montages) with both Hal Ashby and screenwriter Colin Higgins from ’72 and ’79 respectively, taken from Harold Lloyd Masters Seminars. An informative commentary track alternating between Ashby biographer Nick Dawson and the film’s producer Charles B. Mulvehill rounds out the disc’s bonus features. (The two theatrical trailers on the Paramount disc have not made the leap, I’m afraid to report.)

Additionally, the Blu-ray includes one of those fine inner booklets that Criterion does so well. This one spans 36 pages and is full of cute little Harold and Maude illustrations in the same vein as the cover art. It features: A new essay entitled “Life and How to Live It,” by one of the most insightful, not to mention dangerous, living movie/TV critics, Matt Zoller Seitz (whom, it must be said, I also call a friend); a reprint of a 1971 New York Times article/interview with Ruth Gordon by Leticia Kent entitled “A Boy of Twenty and a Woman of Eighty”; a transcript of a 1997 conversation between Bud Cort, cinematographer John Alonzo, and James Rogers of the Colin Higgins Trust; lastly, there’s a short 2001 interview conducted by Rogers with the film’s executive producer, Mildred Lewis, and her family, entitled “Meeting Colin Higgins.”

 [1] Bud Cort and Ruth Gordon have quite understandably gotten all the glory for Harold and Maude over the years, but damn it, Vivian Pickles, who plays Harold’s mother, is just as good as the two leads, and maybe as important to the goings-on. Through many viewings, I’ve come to really appreciate what this actress brought to the movie, and how spot on her portrayal is of a mother very much at wits end and utterly ill-equipped to deal with her emotionally disturbed son. Again, like so much of this movie, Mrs. Chasen is very much a character of her time, yet the character transcends the decades and works every bit as well today. Nearly every word that comes out of her mouth is priceless and every move she makes is calculated comedic perfection. Pickles just doesn’t get nearly enough credit for her work here.

Doctor Who: The Seeds of Death, Resurrection of the Daleks, and Carnival of Monsters Special Edition DVD reviews

David Tennant hosts "Come in Number Five"

Back in March I did a big piece on the three classic Doctor Who Special Edition DVD sets released that month, and outlined my feelings about the SEs in general. April saw the debut of another such set, “Carnival of Monsters,” and now June sees two more, with “Resurrection of the Daleks” and “The Seeds of Death.” Together, these three titles made up the “Revisitations 2” box set in the U.K. Unlike previous double dips such as “The Caves of Androzani,” “The Robots of Death,” or even “The Three Doctors” (which, despite being a story of dubious quality, is clearly worthy of its own SE on principle alone), these tales are, simply put, not nearly as “classic.”

“The Seeds of Death” is the least successful of the trio, and I say that as a diehard Patrick Troughton fan. I’d even go so far as to say that it’s the worst of the surviving stories of his era (yes, I’d rather watch “The Dominators” than “The Seeds of Death,” but only by a slim margin). This is a six-parter featuring one of the series’ big bads, The Ice Warriors, and the viewer will feel every minute of it. It likely would’ve worked better at four episodes, and yet even that wouldn’t have helped the uninspired guest cast/characters and the often times shockingly naïve script. On the plus side, “Seeds” does offer a mildly interesting look at a potential Earth future, where the planet is completely dependent on a technology called T-Mat, which is basically teleportation. The Ice Warriors cripple the Earth by hijacking the tech from the moon, where exists the T-Mat relay station. Much wackiness ensues (well, not really).  Since the breakdown of technology is a big issue for me personally, I find at least that aspect of “Seeds” rather fascinating, though as an idea it’s hardly sustained in any kind of engaging way across six episodes.

Speaking of technological screw ups, as I understand it, a mistake was made on the original DVD release, and the film sequences of the story were VidFIREd when they shouldn’t have been, hence part of the reason for the SE. As you can see from the screengrabs at the right, the differences in quality between the two releases is imperceptible (to my eyes anyway). Perhaps the SE film sequences are a tad brighter? Beyond that, the primary extras have been ported over from the original release, although “The Last Dalek” featurette has, for obvious reasons, been moved over to the “Resurrection of the Daleks” SE, and the New Zealand censor clips from “The Web of Fear” and “The Wheel in Space” have been removed as they exist on the “Lost in Time” box set (as does “The Last Dalek,” actually).

While there is no new commentary track, original to this SE is a 30-minute doc entitled “Lords of the Red Planet,” which the DVD cover claims is a history of the Ice Warriors. While it does contain some fascinating info on the origins of their creation, that’s not quite how I’d describe it, as it’s basically just a making of “Seeds.” Also new is a very short bit with director Michael Ferguson called “Monster Masterclass” and a neat interview featurette titled “Monsters Who Came Back for More!,” with Nicholas Briggs and Peter Ware discussing many of the monsters who made return appearances over the years, as well as the ones they’d like to see return on the new series. Lastly, there are Radio Times listings in PDF form and a coming soon trailer for “Death to the Daleks,” which comes out next month. While these few new extras are fun, “The Seeds of Death” SE remains difficult to recommend to folks who own the previous edition, and equally to those who’ve never even owned it at all.

1984’s “Resurrection of the Daleks,” from Peter Davison’s final season, I’m torn over, and even this new DVD hasn’t helped me to nail down my feelings on it, though to clear up any confusion beforehand, it is a quality story on most levels. A cameo in “The Five Doctors” aside, this was the first appearance of the Daleks in the series since 1979’s “Destiny of the Daleks,” and this more or less picks up where that one left off. From a production standpoint, this thing is the tits: Excellent location shooting, tight direction, above par effects work, and even some pretty good studio work. Terry Molloy plays Davros for the first time, successfully reinventing the character for the ‘80s, and he and Peter Davison are surrounded by a sprawling, believable guest cast.

The problem with “Resurrection” is that it’s so damn bleak and without any wit or humor (though there is one scene with Davros that gives me the giggles, yet I’m unsure if that was the intention). It supposedly has the highest onscreen body count of any Doctor Who story, but the violence itself isn’t really the issue. It’s the tone of the whole thing, which just feels so un-Who-like; this is more like Blake’s 7 (specifically the final episode of that show). Now, I’ve got nothing against bringing on the darkness from time to time, and Davison’s final season as well as Colin Baker’s first are frequently loaded with grittiness, but there’s something about the balance in this particular story that simply feels off; it’s just too much. Obviously, your mileage may vary. Also, this is Tegan’s (Janet Fielding) final story, and though she has a beautiful and heartrending exit scene, she’s given barely anything to do in the 90 minutes prior to it. It just kills me that Janet Fielding didn’t get a better send-off, as Turlough (Mark Strickson) did in “Planet of Fire,” which immediately follows this tale.

One big reason “Resurrection of the Daleks” was given a double dip is because when it was originally broadcast on the BBC, it was shown as two, 45-minute episodes, even though it wasn’t produced to be shown as such. Disc One of this set for the first time on home video presents it as it aired in ‘84. The 2002 DVD release (as well as the VHS release before it) presented it as four, 23-minute episodes, which is duplicated here on Disc Two. So now you can “have it your way,” although ultimately it doesn’t make a huge difference which way you watch it, to my mind. Aside from the “Who’s Who” text feature, all the extras from the 2002 disc have been ported over, in addition to all the new features.

A new commentary track can be found on Disc One, featuring Terry Molloy, writer and script editor Eric Saward, visual effects designer Peter Wragg, and moderated by Nicholas Pegg. It’s a dry affair, but very informative nonetheless. The star attraction here should be the nearly hour-long documentary entitled “Come in Number Five,” a retrospective of the Davison era, hosted by Davison’s son-in-law, David Tennant (though Tennant hadn’t yet married Georgia when this was recorded); “should” be because I was pretty let down by this doc that I’d been looking forward to seeing since it came out in the U.K. over a year ago. One of the most refreshing aspects of the classic Who DVDs is that the participants in the bonus features are very often brutally candid about their times on the show and the quality of the stories. Like I said, this is refreshing when so many DVD bonus features of TV shows and movies exclusively showcase talent from both in front of and behind the camera insisting that everyone and everything is brilliant. That gets old.

Unfortunately, the reverse of that attitude can also be the enemy of the classic Who DVD range, as is the case here. I wanted a pleasant, nostalgic look back at Davison’s three years on the show – an era which I, and most hardcore fans, consider to be of generally high quality. Instead, this doc amounts to little more than a one-hour bitchfest about how many things went wrong, and how John Nathan-Turner fucked things up right and left – an attitude I can do without, thank you very much, especially since he’s no longer with us to defend himself. I think there must be a ten minute exchange devoted to what a bad idea it was to create a companion that was supposed to kill the Doctor, and how the idea ruined Season 20, when most fans will agree that it wasn’t necessarily a bad idea, and it didn’t actually ruin Season 20. (For further commentary on this issue, check out the DVD review of “The Black Guardian Trilogy.”) None of this is Tennant’s fault, mind you. I’m sure his linking bits - which tonally are more along the lines of what I expected from this - were recorded after all of these interviews were done. If I’d seen this doc without ever having seen the Davison era, I probably wouldn’t be interested in ever checking out his Doctor, such is the excessive negativity here.

On the flip side of this is a lovely 30-minute piece called “Casting Far and Wide,” featuring Toby Hadoke interviewing five guest actors from “Resurrection” about their careers, with varying reactions and answers. It doesn’t always have a whole lot to do with Doctor Who, but it’s a nice, warm piece nonetheless. While I’m at it, let me just say that Toby Hadoke is the best thing to happen to the classic DVD range in the past year. His contributions and levels of interest and knowledge are ideally suited to exploring this series. Kudos to you, sir, if you are out there reading. “Tomorrow’s Times – The Fifth Doctor” is another entry in the ongoing exploration of the press reaction to the show. There’s also a short bit called “Walrus” with a woman and a Dalek, Radio Times listings in PDF form, as previously mentioned, “The Last Dalek” featurette, and the coming soon trailer for “Death to the Daleks.”

Finally we come to “Carnival of Monsters,” which is arguably the best of these stories, even if it’s something of an odd duck. Written by Robert Holmes with a generous amount of charm, and directed by Barry Letts with an equal amount of flair, “Carnival” is a story that’s grown on me over the years, particularly through this new edition. Part social commentary and part adventure, this was the Third Doctor’s (Jon Pertwee) first adventure after having had his ability to pilot the TARDIS restored by the Time Lords at the close of “The Three Doctors.” It appears the TARDIS has landed on a cargo ship in the 1920’s, though the Doctor is certain that can’t be the case. Meanwhile, on a distant, alien planet with class system issues, a couple of carnies have arrived with their money-making gimmick known as the Miniscope, through which spectators can view all manner of alien life.

“Carnival of Monsters” isn’t as obviously exceptional as so many other Robert Holmes scripts, but it’s still a very entertaining one. Its most memorable monsters, the Drashigs, are a great example of a one-off Doctor Who creature, and the story is just so unlike anything else from this era of the show. It seems that the aim of “Carnival” was to do something different with the series than what it had been doing for the previous three seasons. It’s ambitious, maybe sometimes even to a fault, and it seems like the sort of script you’d read about in some Who reference book as having been “ultimately passed on” because it “didn’t quite fit the show.” But it wasn’t, and it did.

Lis Sladen thinking about her old co-star and friend Ian Marter

Seems all the bonus features from the 2003 DVD have been ported over in some form or fashion. The extended and deleted footage has been replaced by an additional longer edit of Episode Two, which also features that oddball, alternate arrangement of the theme tune which was a separate extra on the old disc. New to this SE is a commentary track featuring actors Peter Halliday, Cheryl Hall and Jenny McCracken, as well as special sounds creator Brian Hodgson. While “Destroy All Monsters!” is a lovely new making of, the standout extra may be “On Target with Ian Marter,” which explores the late actor’s contributions to the Target book range, as well as the man himself. Nicholas Courtney, Tom Baker and Elisabeth Sladen (amongst a couple others) all chime in with their feelings about Ian Marter, but it’s Sladen’s emotions and choice of words that really move. When she talks of him passing at such a young age, she nearly breaks down into tears. This is made all the more poignant by her own passing at too young of an age last year. It’s anyone’s guess what was going through her mind during that interview, but the results are haunting and heartbreaking. 

Ian Marter pre-Harry Sullivan

There’s also a featurette entitled “The A-Z of Gadgets and Gizmos” that’s title is pretty self-explanatory, and another called “Mary Celeste,” in which experts discuss various historical disappearances of ships and the like. Finally, there are Radio Times listings in PDF form, and a coming soon trailer for “Nightmare of Eden,” which was released last month.