Crowley’s initial plan to avert the apocalypse hits an unexpected snag, and so he and Aziraphale find themselves back at square one, scrambling to catch up. As the first dispatches are sent out to assemble the Four Horsemen, the demon and the angel work to get abreast of the situation while concealing their interference from their respective sides. Meanwhile, human forces begin to gather, including a young witch descended from one of the world’s greatest prophetesses and a would-be tech head who’s considering witchfinding as a career change.
Like I said, we’re meeting and arranging more of the major players here. We get the backstory on Agnes Nutter’s prophecies, which lead into the introduction of Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer. We also see the first of the Four Horsemen and get Michael McKean’s delightfully-cracked Witchfinder Sgt. Shadwell and his “Jezebel” neighbor, Madame Tracy (played by Miranda Richardson.) Throughout the series, I enjoy the mixing of the supernatural and the mundane, as well as the modern-day fantasy elements of all these magic and prophecy playing out in a 21st-century English village and the surrounding area.
While all of this is good, the mixed blessing of the miniseries is that Aziraphale and Crowley are so good, both separately and together, that you’re left missing them whenever they’re offscreen for more than a few minutes. So, as amusing as Shadwell is, as compelling as our first glimpse at War is, these other elements don’t hold a candle to the real magical element of the series. I suppose it’s a good problem to have, but it does admittedly leave the scenes without Crowley and/or Aziraphale feeling more lackluster than they actually are. (It’s a bit like Doctor-lite episodes on new Who – they have to be damn good if they want to make you forget how much you’d rather have the Doctor on your screen instead.)
But when Aziraphale, Crowley, or both are onscreen, all is right with the world. I mean, sure, the apocalypse is coming, but I get so much enjoyment out of watching them bicker and bond as they rush to try and stop it. I love Aziraphale’s fussiness and how he gets carried away doing good, and I find it fascinating that his angelic goodness can all but paralyze him from acting at all; while the demonic Crowley is prepared to go whatever’s necessary to save the Earth from Armageddon, Aziraphale gets so caught up fretting over what the rules say he’s supposed to do that he can hardly decide whether or not he’s “allowed” to help. In this episode, the major money scenes between these two are their fact-finding mission at a former convent and their ill-timed collision with an unsuspecting cyclist.
Even though Crowley is a fairly broad character, he allows Tennant to cover quite a bit of ground as an actor. Here, we see some of the extremes of Crowley’s demonic nature, the genuine menace he carries within in (even if it’s directed in part at houseplants.) His insistent refutation of Aziraphale’s declaration that he’s “nice” deep down is certainly a case of the gentleman protesting too much – look at how fondly he indulges in a request to do Aziraphale a trivial kindness, look at how the chaos he sows neatly avoids any death – but that doesn’t mean he’s a secret sweetheart who’s just misunderstood. There’s darkness to him, and points of light, and an odd mix of indolence and determination, and a persistent moral curiosity (I love watching him puzzle over the contradictory views on guns held by Aziraphale’s side.) Oh, and of course humor. Through Crowley and Aziraphale, Tennant and Sheen offer up bizarrely-complementary parts of a pretty extraordinary package.
Why yes, most of these reviews will be fawning over Tennant and Sheen’s performances, why do you ask?
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