Other Doctor Lives: The Crown: Season 2, Episode 5 – “Marionettes” (2017)

This is an interesting episode, about a little tidbit of history I didn’t know anything about. That’s one thing I do appreciate about The Crown – it dramatizes events from British history that I’d never heard of before, both large and small.

When Elizabeth delivers a tonedeaf speech to workers at an auto factory, she finds herself on the receiving end of criticism from a lord who declares her out of touch with the working people of England. The incident grows into a dustup in the papers, and Elizabeth is torn between her desire to have the criticism shut down and the worry that he might be right.

For starters, it’s interesting that what we have here is a conflict over the dignity of the working class that plays out between members of the aristocracy. Even though Lord Altrincham’s words are prompted by his observations of “regular people” listening to Elizabeth’s speech on the radio, working-class folks aren’t actual participants in what’s going on here. It reminds me a little of news about congressional committees drafting bills about reproductive health, wherein the committees are made up entirely of men.

I also like the detail that Elizabeth feels somewhat thrown under the bus on this issue. She is the one who delivers the speech and understandably takes the heat for it, but she doesn’t write the words she says. Even if it’s true that, by virtue of her life and upbringing, she doesn’t know what ordinary people’s lives are like, she trusts her advisors to write speeches for her that are attuned to the sensibilities of the people, that won’t turn people off or offend them. She starts to realize that, if she’s surrounded by toffs, she won’t necessarily get thoughts or attitudes that are reflective of the country as a whole.

It’s another episode where there isn’t a lot of Philip, but unfortunately, he manages to be pretty annoying even with his limited screentime. His chief contribution to the episode is making fun of Elizabeth’s hairstyle, and he does it 1) in an incredibly blunt and tactless way, and 2) while Elizabeth is on her way to the speaking engagement in question. I imagine that, in Philip’s head, he probably thinks he’s just keeping it real, but it gets to the point that it’s like, “When was the last time you made an effort to make anything the slightest bit easier for your wife, who’s the monarch of a whole damn country?” Geez, guy.

At this point, I’ve fully stopped hoping for any kind of turnaround or positive journey of growth on Philip’s part. I’ve accepted that his character is going to be mostly aggravating/annoying, with flashes of his nice moments that make me wistful for the man he so frequently chooses not to be. Matt Smith still pulls some really nice acting out of this on occasion, but on the whole, I’d have wished for something better deserving of his talents (as I’ve said before, even Philip’s bad qualities aren’t narratively-compelling enough to make him enjoyable to watch as an unrootable character.)

Hollywood (2020)

I have complicated feelings about Ryan Murphy’s work. In a way, it’s a little reminiscent of how I feel about past Doctor Who showrunners Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat, both of whom can write fantastic television, but whose individual writing quirks can overwhelm their work when left unchecked, surfeiting on the very qualities that work so well in controlled doses. Murphy can be a lot like that, even if I don’t think he’s written anything I like as well as “The Parting of the Ways” or “The Eleventh Hour.” With this miniseries, though, his shtick mostly all works for me, and I came away enjoying myself (premise spoilers.)

Post-war Hollywood is in for a reckoning. Jack, a young vet, has dreams of making it big, but he’s not the only one. There’s Archie, a gay Black screenwriter who wants to challenge audience expectations about what he can write. Raymond, a half-Filipino director who, though he passes as white, wants the freedom to tell Asian stories onscreen. Camille, a Black contract player with the talent to play more than just the maid, but not the opportunity. Roy, a closeted actor who’s just been signed by a predatory agent. When studio giant Ace Pictures experiences a surprise shakeup, all these people come together in the hopes of making a picture Hollywood has never dreamed of.

This miniseries has gotten some similar criticisms as Hamilton when it comes to representation. While Hamilton casts people of color as white historical figures, losing sight of the stories of historical figures of color in the process, Hollywood focuses on fictional marginalized pioneers of the silver screen, touching only briefly on the real pioneers who worked so hard to break through – Hattie McDaniel and Anna May Wong both appear as characters in the story, but minor ones. I understand criticisms that Murphy and co. could’ve told about the struggles of these real people instead of making up characters who never existed, but on the whole, I’m all right with it. This is a historical fairytale, every bit as much as Inglourious Basterds doesn’t let actual history get in the way of the story it wants to tell, and it’s a fairytale that has a perfect right to exist. It’s neat to imagine how Hollywood (and by extension, the world) might’ve been different if history had been a little more like this miniseries.

And yeah, things get silly at points, and there are parts I don’t like. Some turns of events are a little too pat, specific “twists” are too heavily-foreshadowed, and certain intriguing aspects of the story don’t get enough play. I also roll my eyes a little that, even in a story expressly about marginalized creatives fighting for the chance to tell their stories, the first point-of-view character we meet is still the straight white guy (of course.) On the whole, though, this is put together well. I enjoy the frothy, old-Hollywood feel of it all, and there are some beautifully affecting scenes. Especially in the final episode, there’s a lovely sequence that shows just why the events depicted in this story matter.

Plenty of nice performances here. For Murphy regulars, I enjoy Darren Criss as ambitious director Raymond (by the way, I appreciate that Murphy allows Criss to play mixed Asian American characters,) Jim Parsons is very effective as vicious agent Harold, and Joe Mantello (who was great in the Murphy-directed adaptation of The Normal Heart) tears it up as reliable-to-a-fault producer Dick. Other highlights include a fabulous Patti LuPone as Avis, the shrewd wife of the studio head, and Jeremy Pope as Archie, the determined screenwriter – plus, Michelle Krusiec and Queen Latifah are great in their brief appearances as Anna May Wong and Hattie McDaniel.

Warnings

Sexual content, scenes of violence (including sexual abuse and discussion of suicide,) language (including homophobic slurs and racial insults,) drinking/smoking, and strong thematic elements.

Favorite Characters: The Eighth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Eight is the reason I can never hate the TV movie.  Even though goodness knows it’s no prize, without it, he wouldn’t exist.  And for that, I’ll always have an appreciation for it.  Do I wish he could’ve had a better televised adventure?  Of course.  I have yet to get too far into his novels or audiobooks, though I’ve read his comics from both the old Doctor Who Magazine days and the newer ones from Titan.  But for me, even with the TV movie’s questionable quality, it’s still the best place to get my Eighth Doctor fix.

To be fair, things do start off a little shaky, what with the whole morgue-freezer regeneration, the intercuts with Frankenstein, and the cheesy “Who am I?!?”  But once he gets going, Eight is nothing but delightful.  He’s such an exuberant, wholehearted presence – watching him, you really do get the sense that he keeps one of his hearts in each pocket so he can regularly take them out and show them to whoever he meets, whether they ask or not.  I’ve described him before as romantic, and while that is partly due to the nature of his dynamic with Grace, I don’t mean it just like that.  I mean in the way his MO seems to be to sweep people up, like he’s living this magic life and anyone who comes into contact with him for a few moments can touch it; that’s the vibe he gives off.  Granted, virtually all Doctors exude that air of wonder and adventure trailing after them, but Eight is the only one who feels like he probably walks around accompanied by a full orchestral soundtrack to highlight the beauty of life seen through his eyes.

It comes through in big and small moments alike.  Whether he’s delighted by a coincidence (realizing Grace is the same doctor who operated on him as Seven,) joyous in universe-saving victory (defeating the movie’s Big Bad,) or just ecstatic at how well Grace’s ex-boyfriend’s shoes fit him (don’t ask – just watch how happy he is and try not to grin like a fool,) his lust for life is infectious.  He’s a bit of a romantic hero and the tiniest hint of a swashbuckler, but he’s also the same kooky, easily-distracted genius Whovians know and love, and I’d wager he was unlike any leading man who’d ever appeared on FOX before when the TV movie was released in 1996.  From reminiscing about the famous painters he’s met to creating a distraction using jelly babies, he’s every inch the Doctors who came before him even as his brief tenure marks the beginning of something new for the series (there would have never been the Doctor and Rose, not in the way we saw them, without the Doctor and Grace.)

Also, I have to credit the TV movie for what is possibly one of the single most Doctory actions of all time.  When the Doctor and Grace are desperately trying to get somewhere and find their way blocked by an inconvenient police officer, the Doctor, after using the aforementioned jelly babies as a bit of misdirection, swipes the officer’s gun and then takes himself hostage, threatening to shoot himself if the officer doesn’t let them pass.  In recent years, there have been all sorts of grand statements about how the Doctor doesn’t carry guns and always tries to avoid violence, but I don’t know if that philosophy has ever been illustrated as succinctly as it is in that moment.  Eight, when forcing someone’s hand, threatens violence only against himself, depending on the officer’s professional and moral obligation to protect others from harm.  It’s a gorgeous little scene, and every time I see it, I’m a bit startled all over again by just how well it encapsulates so much about the Doctor.