Top Five Stories: The Sixth Doctor

I’ll be upfront:  Six is my least favorite Doctor.  No doubt about it.  Sure, a lot of it is down to “The Twin Dilemma” – regeneration crisis or not, you really shouldn’t try to strangle your companion unless you’ve literally been possessed – but even apart from that, I’ve never fully warmed up to him.  Throw in a short tenure on the show, and coming up with a top five gets a bit tough.  Here’s what I came up with.

 

“The Two Doctors” (Series 22, Episodes 7-9)

 

This one’s a no-brainer.  The return of Two and Jamie is everything I wanted it to be; it’s like they never left, and the first time I saw this serial, I wore a dopey grin the entire time they were onscreen.  Their presence softens the Six-Peri dynamic and, weirdly-tall Sontarans aside, the man-eating-aliens-in-Seville plot is amusing and fun.

 

“The Mark of the Rani” (Series 22, Episodes 5-6)

 

This story introduced a great villain in the Rani – compared to the Master’s outright evilness, I like her cold, sterile disregard for humans as collateral damage, and land mines that turn people into trees is just pure Who.  The Victorian setting is used to good effect, and the Rani has dinosaurs in jars on her TARDIS.  Made.  Of.  WIN!

“Attack of the Cybermen” (Series 22, Episodes 1-2)

 

Okay, so here’s where the “stretching to get to five” part comes in.  It’s a fine enough Cyberman story, nothing special, but all right.  What I really love about this one, though, is the temporary “fix” to the TARDIS’s chameleon circuit.  Watching her become increasingly-conspicuous objects is a riot.  See, that’s why you don’t mess with the police box – it’s a classic for a reason.

 

“Vengeance on Varos” (Series 22, Episodes 3-4)

 

This is a pretty great story.  Sil is an entertaining and disgusting baddie (that laugh, oh my goodness,) and the storyline is like a dry run for The Hunger Games, only with political dissidents instead of teenagers.  Creative and cool, with likeable supporting characters – yes, please!

“Revelation of the Daleks” (Series 22, Episodes 12-13)

 

Daleks are always good for a little excitement, and they’re up to some particularly nasty stuff in this serial.  Plus, bonus nefarious Davros!  (Is there any other kind?)

2014 Emmy Nominations

 

What follows is by no means a comprehensive commentary on this year’s Emmy nominations.  Nope – this is my entirely biased reaction, offering my random observations about the nominations or lack thereof that interest me.

 

Since I already brought it up before, I’ll start with Orange is the New Black, which really raked in the nominations.  Its nods surprised me a few times, however.  At first, I was outraged when I thought that Taylor Schilling and Kate Mulgrew were the only actresses who were nominated (I know – first-world problems, right?), and that seemed preposterous; surely if the Modern Family guys can dominate the comedy categories for years in a row, they could recognize more than one of the talented supporting ladies of Litchfield.  Luckily, though, I kept scrolling and found Uzo Aduba, Natasha Lyonne, and Laverne Cox listed as guest actresses.  Silly, since all three appear in most or all episodes, but whatever.  Technicalities.  Then, I of course got annoyed at the lack of Samira Wiley love, since my girl Poussey was on fire this year and had a lot more to do than either Nicky or Sophia, but then I realized all of the show’s nominations are from its first season.  I suppose it’s just a little bit past the cutoff, so maybe Wiley will get her accolades next year.  If our current trio don’t split one another’s votes too badly, my money’s on Aduba – her performance as Suzanne is really incredible, and she’s all kinds of awesome.

 

Fellow Netflix original House of Cards also got a ton of nominations in the drama categories.  This might not be its year, since I don’t know if much can derail Breaking Bad’s last hurrah, but it’s great to see Kevin Spacey, Robin Wright Penn, and others being applauded for their stellar work.  With plenty of major nominations in both drama and comedy categories, Netflix has a lot to be proud of.

 

I’ll have several horses in the Miniseries and TV Movie races this year.  Fargo, Sherlock, and The Normal Heart are all well-represented.  I was surprised to see Sherlock submitting itself as a TV movie (in “His Last Vow”) – it was weird enough when it was considered a miniseries, since it’s obviously a series proper, but now to call a single episode a TV movie?  Just odd.  However, I’m thrilled to see Martin Freeman nominated twice, as a leading actor for Fargo (up against Benedict Cumberbatch and Fargo co-star Billy Bob Thornton) and a supporting actor for Sherlock.  Jim Parsons is another double-dipping nominee; in addition to his usual Big Bang Theory nod, he’s up for The Normal Heart as well.  As for The Normal Heart, while I’m happy for Mark Ruffalo, Julia Roberts, and Matt Bomer as well, I’m thrilled for Joe Mantello.  He was truly magnificent, and while I can’t see him beating out some of his competition, I’m so glad his tremendous performance was recognized.

 

While I was pretty much ready for it, I still think it’s bull that The Mindy Project didn’t get anything.  It has a terrific cast and some of the best sitcom writing on TV right now.  Even more egregious is Hannibal’s shut-out.  I know the drama categories are awfully packed, but that show is just a triumph.  At the bare minimum, how is it that Mads Mikkelsen got no love?  They could’ve submitted him for supporting actor.  Yes, Jim Carter is great on Downton Abbey, but Mr. Carson > Hannibal Lector?  Please.

Further thoughts on C.O.G.

 

I didn’t get a chance to get to it yesterday, but I want to talk about the way C.O.G. addresses religion.  For a film, the portrayal is surprisingly complex, and the fact that the whole story is viewed through the eyes of a young gay man who’s an atheist makes it all the more noteworthy.

 

David’s first encounters with Christianity begin immediately in small ways – he summarily dismisses an ex-con convert who accosts him on the bus, and at the orchard’s living quarters, he awkwardly slips into bed while the mostly Roman Catholic migrant workers are kneeling in prayer.  When he first meets Jon, an artist/sidewalk evangelist who is equal parts tenacious, affable, and irritating, David shuts him down at every turn.  However, when he’s in a tight part and in need of help, Jon offers it no questions asked.

 

Jon is a fantastic character, complicated and ridiculous and full of dramatic potential.  He’s 90% relentlessly cheerful and 10% kneejerk vicious.  With almost no thought at all, he takes David in and enlists him as an “apprentice” in his makeshift studio, making pieces to sell at an upcoming fair.  He teaches David everything he knows about his artform (carving jade) and shares his living space, his colorful past (complete with alcoholism, a prosthetic leg, and a rock-bottom come-to-Jesus moment,) and his religion.  Throughout their time together, he not-so-subtly nudges David toward Christianity – asking pointed questions, waking him at 6:30 for Sunday-morning church services, and praying aloud before work every day.  He’s a little kooky, and he assures David that “it’s all right to joke with the Lord” because “He likes it.”

 

On the other hand, Jon’s idea of Christianity is pretty skewed.  He tends to equate Christianity with charity; he’s full of brotherly love and good will when a fellow church family opens their doors to him, but the minute they hint that his welcome is wearing thin, they’re no longer “good Christians” in his eyes.  His own charitable spirit, however, is ultimately conditional.  The film lays enough groundwork for this that it’s clear David’s position is precarious, and yet it’s still shocking when a perceived slight from David prompts a stark reveal of Jon’s ugly side.  It’s one of those movie moments that has you holding your breath, and you simply can’t look away.

 

Jon provides the film’s most prominent and most nebulous handling of Christianity, but he’s not alone.  Martha, one half of the couple that houses Jon and David for a time, treats David kinder than anyone else in the movie.  On her part, we see honest concern and caring with no real agenda.  Whether she’s performing hosting duties, helping David with the tie for his borrowed church clothes, or gently hinting that she knows of his family troubles, she’s a calming presence in his life and captures a simple but genuine spirit of Christianity. 

 

And of course, there’s the scene in which David finally comes forward in church to accept Christ.  It’s not entirely clear why he does it – if he believes, if he’s in a dark place and desperate for a home, if he’s caught up in the moment – but it’s so interesting.  David is perhaps barer than we’ve ever seen him as he stands before the crowd and begs God for forgiveness.  Yet, at the same time, this new family is unknowingly denouncing him at the same time it welcomes him, as the pastor encourages him to ask God to help him find a wonderful woman, get married, and have children.  There’s just so much to mull over.  Considering the number of films that offer up very flat depictions of Christianity, I really appreciate it.

C.O.G. (2013, R)

Apologies for tardiness:  wrote the review, revised it... forgot to post it.  Ayiyi.  Anyway...

This is an interesting little film – it’s very slight, wonderfully funny in a quiet way, and has real emotion as well.  It might remind me a bit of The Station Agent, though more wandering and untethered.  Either way, it’s extremely well made, and I enjoyed it a lot.

 

Based on an autobiographical short story by David Sedaris, C.O.G. opens on David, a young Ivy League type, traveling from his Connecticut home to rural Oregon.  After a falling-out with his mother (the implication is that he came out and it didn’t go well,) he’s decided to “take some time off” and work on an apple orchard.  The minute he shows up in his Yale sweater telling the local migrant workers how he wants to get his hands dirty, it’s clear he’s in for an education.

 

And so he is.  Through several seasons, homes, and odd jobs, David is tossed from pillar to post.  He makes and loses hard-won friends, he realizes how different the world is outside his usual circle, and he’s repeatedly confronted with the idea of God.  His growing pains come slowly and often embarrassingly – at an apple-packing factory, for instance, his blue-collar coworkers are scathing when “Einstein” bites into an apple, unaware that the whole stock is floating in pesticide.

 

This is a film that lives and dies by its protagonist, and there’s something I really love about David.  He’s not particularly likeable; he’s sheltered and pretentious, with an incurable smart mouth that has a pithy remark about everything.  And yet, his relentlessness is both amusing and admirable.  As much as I laugh at his fumbling attempts to schlep a heavy butane canister the several miles between the orchard and the nearest filling station, he still does it, and generally seems to learn from his many mistakes.  Jonathan Groff’s sardonic performance is infused with just enough heart to make you root for David (I think this is my favorite performance of his – he’s terrific here.)

 

Because the heart is there.  Though he often acts imperious, David is desperate to connect with someone.  His hunger for friendship causes him to latch onto people he probably never would’ve spoken to in his “real” life, to both his benefit and detriment, and when things go wrong, his sorrow is palpable.  And then there’s his relationship with his mother.  We never see them talk directly to one another, but despite his initial assurances that he won’t contact her, more than one lonely moment finds him at a payphone, posturing into her voicemail about what a great time he’s having in Oregon.  On her side, while she’s never shown onscreen and she only speaks one line, it’s clear she’s missing him as well.

 

Besides Jonathan Groff, the movie also features the fantastic Corey Stoll, a.k.a. Hemingway from Midnight in Paris and more recently of House of Cards.  Casey Wilson, who used to be on SNL, is excellent in a brief, more dramatic turn, and Denis O’Hare (who I first knew as Guiteau in the Broadway production of Assassins) seems to have an unusual niche – I’ve seen play characters with varying levels of homophobia in no less than four queer-themed movies.

 

Warnings

 

Swearing and some sexual content (including a scene with some toys that don't get used.)

Brave Saint Saturn: Anti-Meridian (2008)

With five years between The Light of Things Hoped For and this release, I started to think we’d never get the end of the astronauts’ story.  But just like the Gloria emerges at last from the dark side of Titan, so Brave Saint Saturn returned in the end with this final chapter.  With a superb array of songs and an overall theme of coming home, Anti-Meridian closes the Brave Saint Saturn trilogy with a bang.

 

Story first:  the astronauts have returned to earth, where they receive a hero’s welcome.  The CD liner notes and a few spoken tracks on the album fill in the gaps – trapped in a geosynchronous orbit, the Gloria was detonated to propel the flight of the Starling, an escape pod.  I’m not up on my technobabble, but suffice it to say that the blast proves a new method of antimatter creation, making the voyage and subsequent return of the astronauts even more historic.  

 

Not many songs deal directly with the plot.  Dennis Culp’s “Hero’s Homecoming” is clearly the most explicit, exploring the exhilaration, joy, and also regret (not everyone made it home) of the heroes as they ride through the streets during their welcome-home parade.  Beyond that, the final two tracks on the album, “These Frail Hands” and “Invictus,” beautifully carry the metaphor of darkness from The Light of Things Hoped For and bring it at last into the light.  “These Frail Hands” is especially masterful – it might be my favorite Brave Saint Saturn song of all time.  With a gentle melody that starts plaintively and grows into an anthem that incorporates choruses from the previous two albums, it’s gorgeous to listen to, and the lyrics are astounding.  I’m seriously resisting the urge to quote the entire thing right now, but I’ll begrudgingly content myself with a single stanza:  “Darkness can’t perceive the light, / Though lightlessness has chilled us numb, / And though its wings may cloud the skies, / The dark shall never overcome.”  I mean, come on!

 

Several other numbers touch on the light-and-dark imagery.  “Through Depths of Twilight” is a thoughtful piece that champions those who’ve brought hope in dark times, particularly highlighting Abraham Lincoln’s “better angels” and the “thunderous words” of Martin Luther King, Jr.  The terrific “Always Just Beneath the Dawn” reaches from son to father in an effort to connect.  The chorus is stellar, and I love the lyric, “In my bones, / Your twenty-three same chromosomes / Reside in twisted prophecy, / Likening our destinies.”

 

The songs on this album have the widest range of subject matter on the trilogy.  Some, like “Starling” and “Blessed are the Land Mines,” are social-message songs.  Though “Starling” starts as a denouncement of killing animals for sport, it gradually works its way to the larger issue of disposable people or nations falling victims to others’ power-lust or fear-mongering.  Likewise, “Blessed are the Land Mines” is a darkly ironic rock number that condemns war-profiteering in general, and more specifically, support within institutionalized religion for war – or as the song puts it, “the church who rattles sabers.”  On a different note, Culp’s “Fields of the Fallen” is lovely, moody, and mournful, and “Fortress of Solitude” is one of the coolest songs I’ve heard about a superhero.  I’ll cop to loving the combination of superheroes and modern rock, and this song is a bang-up example.  I especially like the line, “This prison of mine / Is to carry alone / The light of one red sun / Beneath my skin, / And never, ever go home.”  Tons of variety here, with lots to love!

 

*          *          *

 

I'll probably talk more about the Emmy nominations later, but I just have to geek out over Laverne Cox's nomination for Orange is the New Black.  First trans* person in history to receive an acting nomination for the Emmys (and I imagine for all the major Hollywood awards) - the barriers that woman has broken down in the past year blow my mind.  The tip of my hat to Ms. Cox.

Brave Saint Saturn: The Light of Things Hoped For (2003)

 

Brave Saint Saturn’s sophomore release is possibly its best.  While So Far From Home is an excellent debut and some of the band’s finest songs can be found on Anti-Meridian, The Light of Things Hoped For is the most consistently good.  There’s a ton of great songs on it, and it’s a more mature album than So Far From Home musically, lyrically, and thematically.

 

In terms of plot, we learn that the U.S.S. Gloria has disappeared behind the dark side of Titan, one of Saturn’s moons.  Cut off from light and radio contact, unable to get out, the crew is utterly alone.  “Alone” is the watchword for this album.  While So Far From Home deals with loneliness, The Light of Things Hoped For is about being separated from everything you know, with no light and no help, but, impossibly, still a glimmer of hope.  By the end of the album, Mission Control receives a miraculous transmission from the crew.  Compared to the first CD, the story is woven more into the actual album here.  There are more spoken interludes in the music, some of which are dramatized news reports and radio transmissions (including the final triumphant message from the Gloria.)

 

Additionally, the story finds its way more explicitly into some of the songs themselves.  The dark “Titan” is about a seemingly insurmountable feeling of despair.  The song has an oppressive, claustrophobic feel, and Reese Roper sings, “I’m afraid I’ll never see the light.”  Emotionally, this is the nadir of the album, maybe of the entire trilogy, but it’s answered by “Daylight,” the final track.  It starts out similarly dsolate, with the haunting lyrics, “And the darkness crept its way, / Like stars we know will die too soon. / There is never any sunrise here / In the shadows of eclipsing moons.”  However, the song builds to an ecstatic finish with a direct message to Jesus.  Hopeless though things have seemed, Roper realizes that Christ still held him when he “bled in darkness,” and only He can bring the daylight that will save him.

 

Hope is an important secondary theme of the album, ever-present despite the overarching melancholy.  The first song on the album is “The Sun Also Rises” – a Hemingway reference, yes, but also an affirmation that, no matter how dark things get, the morning will come again.  “I Fell Away,” a catchy number that riffs on the story of Icarus, begins with a fall of heaven but ends with a battered soul and broken wings being mended.  Another song, “Binary,” is a quiet and sad ode to lost love (evidently, Roper had more feelings to work out.)  It has some desperately sad lyrics, but also one of the most uplifting lines I’ve ever heard:  “And in the dark we climb the slope / ‘Cause the bravest thing of all is always hope.”  Just like courage is boldest when we’re afraid, hope is never more important than when things seem hopeless.

 

A few unrelated songs bear mentioning.  “Anastasia” at first feels starkly out of place on a Brave Saint Saturn album, being a happy love song, but it’s beautifully sweet.  In the midst of the darkness that pervades the other numbers, Anastasia is light.  The soft elegy “Estrella” is an unflinching self-reflection, as Roper examines his own faith after seeing the “true and fierce” belief of a dying friend.  Finally, “Heart Still Beats,” written and sung by band member Dennis Culp, is another entreaty to reach out to the suffering.  I’m most moved by Culp’s description of a homeless girl; in a line that makes incredible emotional sense, he sings, “Behind a veil of bleached thin hair, her eyes tell a story, / Like a photo of Berlin, December 1944.”  Culp urges himself as well as us to step in and give a little comfort in the face of pain and isolation.

Brave Saint Saturn: So Far From Home (2000)

 

As a band, Brave Saint Saturn had an interesting life.  It was the moody, atmospheric rock off-shoot of Christian rock/ska giant Five Iron Frenzy, and its three studio albums are unusual in that they have an overarching plot.  They don’t constitute a rock opera, like Tommy or American Idiot, and many of the songs themselves only hint at the story.  In the liner notes of each album, however, the band members become astronauts aboard the USS Gloria, on their way to Saturn.  They’re photographed in uniform, and spoken interludes in the music offer glimpses of the crew as they make their long journey.  Each album tells part of the story and centers around a different theme, so I figured I ought to talk about all three in succession.  (Disclaimer:  if there’s such a thing as spoilers for a CD, be advised that I’ll be mentioning important events from the story of the album.)

 

So Far From Home, the band’s debut, deals with the theme of loneliness, the pressing isolation of space during a years-long voyage to Saturn.  Of the albums in the trilogy, it has the least amount of “plot” woven into the songs.  The only spoken segments are archival – a transmission from the Apollo 8, the countdown from the Challenger, and a clip of Dylan Thomas reading “Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” – but liner-note story ends with the grim revelation that Mission Control has lost contact with the USS Gloria and the fate of the astronauts is unknown.

 

As for the music itself, the theme of loneliness is explored in numerous ways.  Front man and songwriter Reese Roper was dealing with a broken engagement at the time the album was written, and the loss of his fiancée is apparent.  It is addressed most clearly in “Independence Day,” which speaks directly to the fiancée about the day she broke things off.  “Two-Twenty-Nine” is about another kind of loss, the death of Roper’s grandmother.

 

The space motif threads through several numbers, including “Space Robot Five” and “Moon Burns Bright.”  In particular, “Space Robot Five” is excellent, an emotional number about a robot sent up because “the deep of space is no place for a fragile human soul.”  Despite his allegedly cold interior, though, he still pines for a woman back on earth.  “Moon Burns Bright” is also about a woman, in a manner of speaking.  It’s sung by an astronaut as a sort of love song to the moon.  Others tell him the journey isn’t worth the danger and resources, but she’s “the reason every astronaut would fly,” and he’s not about to listen to them because “none of them see the heavens” from his vantage point.

 

Another important theme doesn’t really fit the astronaut storyline, but it’s very apropos for these particular musicians.  Just as Five Iron Frenzy frequently wrote about the “least of these,” so Brave Saint Saturn continues this idea with “Under Bridges,” a quiet song that looks for Jesus in the faces of the poor and suffering.  A cover of Michael W. Smith’s “Rocketown” elaborates on the same theme, although not as bitingly.

 

My favorite song on the album isn’t about loss or space or charity.  “Resistor” gorgeously reaches out a hand to an unnamed Little Sister wrestling with issues of self-worth.  Though “Dad says that she could be could be anything she wants to be, / She only sees what she is not,” and she seeks solitude while she rages at this condition.  Gently, the song invites the “broken-heart resistor” to come back to where she is safe and loved.