Other Doctor Lives: Sex Education: Season 4, Episode 3 (2023)

I’m really liking this last season. The new characters are adding a lot, while we’re also getting interesting developments for the original characters and their relationships. This is another strong episode.

Otis and O have decided there isn’t room for two student sex therapists on campus, so they’re having an election and Ruby has volunteered to be Otis’s campaign manager. Eric has plans to go out to a queer night at a club with Otis, but when he finds out his new friends are going too, he’s not sure where Otis fits in. In other plots, Mr. Groff attempts to connect with Adam, Maeve experiences a hard setback in her writing program, and Isaac helps Aimee explore her preferred art medium. (There’s even more than this going on in the episode, but these are the major storylines.)

Honestly, all of these plots are winners. We dig a little deeper into Ruby’s reasons for helping Otis, and putting them back into a storyline together seems good for both of them And when she decides they’re going to film a campaign video, it unfolds in a remarkable similar way to Katniss’s propos in Mockingjay—not a comparison I ever thought I’d make! But while we see that Otis and Ruby do understand each other and can recognize what the other needs, Ruby hasn’t lost her bite, either. Otis tries to argue that he doesn’t need makeup for the video, and Ruby bluntly responds, “Your skin looks like an onion, Otis!”

Both Adam and Mr. Groff have a hard time expressing their emotions, and Adam’s struggles stem in no small part from his dad. So it’s interesting to watch them both try. Groff has been working on himself for a while, but he’s realizing that it’s not just enough to better himself and wait for Adam to come back to him—he needs to actively reach out, even if those attempts are fumbling and awkward. When Adam clarifies that he’s bi, not gay, Groff is silent for a beat and then simply says, “They say that Alexander the Great may have been bisexual.” Hee!

Pretty much as soon as Aimee fumbled her first conversation with Isaac in the lift, I figured those two would be moving toward making a connection, but the way the show is going about it is nice. They both take art together at Cavendish, but while Isaac is a dedicated painter, Aimee is still trying to figure out what she wants to do, or if she really wants to make art at all. I love this exchange between them:

Isaac: “You’re a maverick.”

Aimee: “What does that mean?”

Isaac: “It means you don’t think like other people.”

Aimee: “I thought that was being stupid.”

Isaac: “No, it means that you’re your own person.”

Aimee is a character with a unique viewpoint and a lot of love, but even if she has people who value and appreciate her, it’s not often that we see someone respecting her.

As Eric gets deeper into his new friendship with Abbi, Roman, and Aisha, his feelings are complex. He totally blossoms when he has fabulous fellow queers that he can hang out and bond with—people who get his experiences, consult on his looks, and watch out for him. But at the same time, he feels a little guilty for being so happy and comfortable with his new friends, because it feels disloyal to Otis. When Aisha notes that he and Otis seem so different, Eric explains, “Yeah. No, yeah, we are. He’s always been my person, though.” But it’s hard for him to hear the others talking about how few straight friends they have, how straight people can never truly relate to them or how it doesn’t seem worth the effort.

Ncuti Gatwa plays this conflict really well, that tug and pull between Eric getting lost in his delight, feeling concerned, and not being sure what he feels at all. You can see the difference between when he’s really enjoying himself and when he’s just trying to.

And as usual, we have some terrific moments of wild exuberance from Gatwa. Before Eric finds out that Abbi, Roman, and Aisha are going to the club too, he’s freaking out about getting ready and antsy about Otis being tied up with campaign stuff. “7:00?!?” he shrieks when he realizes Otis won’t be able to meet him until later. He throws his phone across the room in anger, then quietly wails, “No!” as he immediately runs over to check that it’s okay. And then on the flip side, when he arrives at the club and sees all the incredible queerness on display, I love his high kick on the steps as he exclaims, “I am obsessed!”

Thoughts on Our Flag Means Death Season 2: Episode 8

*Spoilers.*

I didn’t watch the first season of Our Flag Means Death until after it had all come out, so watching this season week to week was kind of a time-bendy experience for me. On the one hand, waiting every Thursday for the new episodes felt like forever. But on the other, it’s a little wild to grasp that it’s over already. (I’m honestly glad that Max didn’t drop the whole season at once—I didn’t have to debate between binging and dodging spoilers, and I got to savor it longer, percolating on the episodes each week.) Okay, season finale time!

The British (Pirates) Are Coming!

Look, there’s all kinds of big stuff that happens in this episode, including major swoonworthy romantic moments for Stede and Ed. But 100%, my biggest takeaway is when the pirates nab some British naval uniforms to execute Stede’s plan. Every last one of the cast looks so exquisitely good. We already knew that Stede could rock a frock coat, but, like, Ed in a tricorne hat? Zheng Yi Sao? Jim? Spanish Jackie? Frenchie? The scene of them all strolling in slow motion through the mist, each one serving deliciously hard, might be the coolest thing I’ve seen on TV all year.

But right before that extreme display of pirate swagger, I love that Jackie poisons the soldiers who took over her bar, assuring the Swede not to worry because he’s been “poison trained.” I love that the imprisoned crew are able to break themselves out before Stede, Ed, and Zheng arrive. And I love that, as the soldiers start keeling over, Stede looks at them and says, “Oh shit, that’s—is that us doing that?” Never change, Stede. Never change.

The Boys Are Back!

Naturally, the finale gives us all kinds of beautiful moments for Stede and Ed. I just love when Ed comes upon two soldiers who found one of Stede’s messages in a bottle, the overwhelming heartfelt look in his eyes as he reads Stede’s wonderful letter. (Bonus: this scene decisively answers the people who insist that Ed can’t read!)

Their reunion, fighting their way through British soldiers to get back to each other, is pretty glorious. The parallels with Stede's fantasy from the season premiere are obvious, but what I love best are the differences between these two scenes. Much like the redo of the "you wear fine things well" moment from episode 5, it's less idealized. Instead of running toward each other on a beautiful beach with the single foe already vanquished, it's in the heat of battle, with noise and chaos and danger all around them. Their reunion is cut short because they have to get back to the fighting. And while Stede is a swashbuckling hero in his fantasy, complete with a cool beard, here we see him struggling to get his sword out of the soldier he's fighting when he hears Ed's voice. None of this is the perfect image.

But for all that, it's better. In Stede's fantasy, once he and Ed fall into each other's arms, he repeatedly looks for reassurance that Ed isn't mad, that they're good, that he hasn't ruined things. But in return, Ed only offers him generic sweet nothings—nice to hear, but not what Stede is looking for. By contrast, in their actual reunion, Ed immediately wants to talk, apologize, and tell Stede that he's loved. Stede gets to be valued and cared for, and he gets to be the one reassuring the man he loves that they're okay, insisting, “You weren’t a dick. Life's a dick." A lot of this isn't how Stede dreamed it, but it gives him the most important part, the part he wasn't even able to imagine before.

Just Love All Over the Place

Ed/Stede take pride of place, understandably, but there’s so much love all over the finale, in different forms. We see Izzy championing what he’s learned this season in his final hurrah, first when he tells Ricky that piracy is “about belonging to something,” and again as he apologizes to Ed for feeding his darkness and assures him that he’s surrounded by family. We see Oluwande encouraging Auntie to try a softer touch with Zheng—the way Zheng’s strong, confident face cracks into tears of joy when Auntie says she’s proud of her is beautiful to witness. And we of course see Lucius and Black Pete’s matelotage wedding. I love that the crew tag-teams the ceremony, that it’s about these two but also the family that’s been built on the Revenge.

Where Do We Go from Here?

I’m ready to cross as many fingers and toes as I need to until Max gives us any announcements about renewal. Showrunner David Jenkins planned this as a three-season show, and I really want him and the cast/crew to get the chance to see that through. There’s so much potential in Stede and Ed trying(!) to run an inn together, and I’m curious about what the crew will look like on the Revenge without them (but with bonus Zheng, Auntie, and Jackie!) I hope, though, that whatever happens, Ed and Stede still have plenty of reasons to interact with the crew. That cast chemistry is too good to waste!

And as we wait for Max’s next move, I’m also glad that this episode could serve as a reasonable season finale if need be. There are definite places for the story to go and things that need to be wrapped up, but we’re worlds away from the desperate situation we were left in at the end of season 1. Stede and Ed are together, the crew is together, and the Revenge is sailing off into the beautiful sea. If Max decides to be a dick and cancels such a brilliant show, I’ll be able to remember the characters like this, and that’s a good place to be.

Doctor Who: Series 7, Episode 5 – “The Angels Take Manhattan” (2012)

*End-of-episode spoilers.*

Series 7 isn’t one of my favorites, and for me, “The Angels Take Manhattan” is a low point.  It mucks around with established rules in order to ramp up the manufactured drama, and logic takes a flying leap out the window.  While it has some good points, this episode isn’t nearly as good as it should have been.

The Weeping Angels have besieged New York City—throughout time, it seems, but there’s a general convergence in the 1930s.  The Eleventh Doctor, Amy, and Rory are out for a pleasant day in Central Park when Rory is taken by an Angel and shot back in time.  The Doctor and Amy follow him back to a noirish ‘30s, where they run into a fellow Angels investigator:  River.  Together, the gang struggles to defeat the Angels and save Rory.

For starters, the whole “time can’t be rewritten once you’ve read it” thing really annoys me.  The conceit is that the entire adventure has already been written down in a book River wrote in the future and, rather than merely being a useful tool to get a leg up and find Rory, the book is deadly dangerous because anything read from it becomes an unalterable fixed point.  In other words, everything is currently up in the air, but if Amy reads that Rory is killed, then he’ll be killed and nothing can be done to stop it.  That’s hugely stupid to me.  1) According to canon, both the Doctor and River lie constantly, so why take her word as gospel?   2) Maybe it’s a timey-wimey thing, and even if River knows Rory really made it out okay, she has to put it in the book because she knows from the adventure that they read it in the book and worried that they were going to lose Rory.  3) Everything they actually do read in the book is vague enough that it could turn out more than one way—for instance, Amy reads, “But why do you have to break mine?” “Because Amy read it in a book,” but she doesn’t read the Doctor actually breaking River’s wrist, so who’s to say the book doesn’t go on to have River talk the Doctor out of it?  4) Why is a written description more binding than hard visual evidence, a la the Lake Silencio quandary in series 6?  If that can be faked, why not a book?

So, it makes no sense, but it’s not there to make sense.  It’s there to facilitate the tragic ending in which, after defeating the Angels, Rory is taken anyway and Amy chooses to let the Angel take her too so he can be with him.  It’s all in service of the tears and teeth-gnashing and overblown music going, “Cry, dammit!” as the Doctor begs Amy not to go.  (By the way, the whole “I’ll never be able to see you again!” thing is total bogus as well.  Even if the paradoxes and time meddling mean the Doctor can never go back to 1938 New York, why can’t he pick them up in 1939 New York, or 1938 New Jersey, or whatever time/place would be acceptably removed from the temporal epicenter?  Instead of pleading with Amy to stay, he should have been instructing her on when and where she and Rory could meet him.)  It’s a companion exit that makes me feel practically nothing, because the emotional manipulation is so blatant and thickly laid on.  Amy and Rory deserved better.

So what does work?  I like it when Rory first encounters River on his arrival to the ‘30s.  I like Amy’s determination to save Rory no matter what the laws of time say.  I like Rory’s plan to stop the Angels, and when Amy worries that he won’t come back to life if he creates a paradox by dying when he’s not supposed to, I love that he simply exclaims, “When don’t I?” I like that the Angels are acting like Angels again and the dumb “image of an Angel” stuff has been forgotten.  Finally, I like the Doctor, Amy, and Rory lounging around Central Park—too cute.  For a big “event” episode, though, there should be much more for me to hang my hat on.