Top Five Stories: The Third Doctor

Three was probably the hardest classic-series transition for me.  I adored Two, and with so few of his stories intact, it seemed like that era was over as soon as it started, and I wasn’t ready.  Three’s disappointed first look at himself was about as happy as mine, but he endeared himself to me almost immediately after.  I came to love the UNIT/Doctor-in-exile angle, the dandified costume, and the fabulous companions.  Here are my picks for the Third Doctor.

 

“Spearhead from Space” (Series 7, Episodes 1-4)

 

Starting at the beginning.  Even though I just said I was wary of Three from the first, he turned me around partway through this opening story.  I like the gentler impression he makes and his happiness at his new eyebrows.  With no carryover companions to ease us into the new reign, it’s good we have the Brigadier and UNIT to wonder at the new Doctor along with us, and Liz is wonderful.  Brilliant, capable, and classy.

 

“Planet of the Spiders” (Series 11, Episodes 21-26)

 

And why not skip right to the end?  Metebelis III and the spiders are great, and I like seeing Capt. Yates again.  Sarah Jane has a rather different relationship with Three than with Four, but it’s still lovely, and the final moments of the serial are every bit as affecting as a regeneration episode should be.  (Also – there’s something on your back!)

 

“The Green Death” (Series 10, Episodes 21-26)

 

It seems I have a thing for Three’s “event” stories.  While Jo isn’t one of my top-tier companions, she’s so sweet and bubbly that I can’t help but love her, and I have nothing but praise for the interactions here between her and the Doctor.  Additionally, Professor Jones is an excellent one-off character, and the giant radioactive maggots are freaky and disgusting.

 

“Planet of the Daleks” (Series 10, Episodes 15-20)

 

This is just a really well-made Dalek story with good thrills and memorable side characters.  Plus, it’s cool to see Jo on her own at the start of the serial and forced to figure things out for herself.  She doesn’t often get moments to shine, but despite how frightened and worried she is, she’s very brave here, and I love her concern for the Doctor.

 

“Carnival of Monsters” (Series 10, Episodes 5-8)

 

Maybe it’s a little off-the-wall, but I love this story.  I tend to like the more time-trippy classics, and it’s awesome to see the Doctor and Jo trying to work out the madness around them.  With 1920s ship passengers, dinosaurs, miniaturized monsters, and temperamental time loops, there’s plenty to keep you entertained.

Favorite Characters: Mason (Dead Like Me)

 

The best description of my favorite character from Dead Like Me would be “all of them (except Clancy,)” but I can’t do justice to them all in one post, can I?  So today, we’re only focusing on Mason, easily the best undead druggie to ever grace the small screen.

 

Oh, Mason, Mason, Mason.  He’s George’s buddy, a screw-up for Roxy to keep in line, Daisy’s would-be suiter, and an eternal thorn in Rube’s side.  He died in the ‘60s trying to chase a permanent high, and while his decades as a grim reaper have matured him a little, he hasn’t made much headway.  Mason’s reaps are often haphazard and last-minute, and they’re frequently accompanied by a little petty larceny among the effects of the dear departed.  Roxy and George use day jobs to pay for their afterlifestyle, but not Mason.  He’d rather break into parking meters, smuggle drugs, and have little old dead ladies teach him their signatures so he can collect their social security.

 

In other words, Mason is an incalculable narrative presence.  He’s always stirring things up and getting into trouble, which opens up plenty of entertaining plot possibilities.  It offers clashes with Rube and Roxy, it’s part of what makes Daisy just string him along, and it means he tends to play the devil on George’s shoulder.  This last point is especially fun since, particularly in season one, he’s a sort-of mentor for George, and his lessons on the ways of the reaper aren’t what you’d call entirely reliable.

 

And of course, many of these antics are hilarious.  The best is, naturally, the episode in which Mason gets accidentally high from the drugs he’s muling.  His paranoia and rambling non-sequiturs are priceless, and his wild, almost-tearful admission “I’ve got illegals in my bottom!” might be the funniest line uttered on the show.  But, great as it is, it’s in excellent company.  There’s also pepper-spraying his eggs and holding a yard sale in someone else’s yard, along with countless others.

 

While comic relief obviously = a good thing, it’s not all there is to Mason.  Sometimes his cavalier attitude and reckless behavior have serious consequences, and more importantly, we get just enough hints of Mason’s serious side to see that he has deeper qualities.  He has an awesome subplot where he reaps one of his aging rock idols; eventually revealing his true nature to the front man, he confesses that immortality “isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”  Another great story comes when he’s forced to really think about the possibility of moving on and tells the people in his life what he thinks about them.  For once, his advice to George (while disjointed) is dead-on, and his genuine affection for her is utterly sweet.

 

And every now and then, he actually makes good.  I love the episode where he reaps a gay couple and, after a lot of insistence that he’s not supposed to, gives in and relays a message from the first man killed to his still-living partner.  Even though it’s against reaper protocol, it’s compassionate and emotionally sound.  And then there’s giving a final moment of happiness to a soon-to-be-dead little boy.  These scenes are always fantastic – Mason brings such warmth to them and shows you who he can be beneath the substance abuse, the stupid decisions, and, the years stuck on earth taking souls.  In moments like these, I root for him to find his way more often.  Not all the time, though!  Foolhardy Mason is comedy gold.

Our Hospitality (1923)

This latest installment in Buster-palooza is a great little film.  It's not as obviously funny as The Navigator or as wonderfully inventive as Sherlock Jr. - in fact, on first watch, I thought it was a little slow, a little middling.  Now, though, I have a much greater appreciation for its gentler humor and fine qualities.

The story deals with a generations-long feud between two Southern families, the Canfields and the McKays (sound familiar?)  Buster plays Willie, the last of the McKays, who's recently returned to the South after having grown up in New York ignorant of the feud.  Naturally, he falls instantly and unknowingly in love with the Canfields' daughter, putting him in the sphere of her father and brothers who won't rest until he's dead.

The title offers one of the biggest recurring jokes in the movie - southern hospitality forbids the Canfields from killing Willie while he's in their house, a fact he discovers only after the daughter invites him over for dinner.  (They take it remarkably literally; the second Willie steps out the door, they're pulling out their pistols.)  Willie's desperate attempts to prolong his stay are a lot of fun, and some nice tension builds over the course of his visit.

Many more jokes are mined from the film's setting.  It takes place in 1831, nearly 100 years ago in Buster's time, and the movie is peppered with gags and remarks about antiquated ideas and outdated technology.  In the 1830s, New York City evidently consists of about four houses, two streets, and a cow, and two carriages and a bicycle make for heavy traffic.  Beyond that, Willie's rickety train journey down south is a stitch, and the Canfields are frequently thwarted by the laborious amount of time it takes to reload their pistols.

The other important thing to know about this movie is that it contains Buster's famous waterfall scene.  In the big climax, Willie finds himself tethered to a log jutting out over a waterfall and performs some tremendous acrobatics to rescue himself and his girl.  The set looks amazingly realistic (Buster actually built a 25-foot waterfall to shoot on,) and the stunts are simply remarkable.

Warnings

Lots of attempted murder and a few tasteless jokes about a southern couple with an abusive relationship.

Top Five Songs: Into the Woods

As promised, here's more Into the Woods!  It's all music all the time today.  Believe me, picking just five songs isn't easy.  All I can do is my best, and if you ask me again tomorrow, at least one of them is liable to be different.

"Giants in the Sky" - Since the giants never appear onstage, we don't see Jack's adventure up the beanstalk.  Rather, we hear about it in this lively number tinged with exuberance and amazement.  In the span of a few minutes, we see how Jack's entire world has opened up.
Best lyric:  "And you think of all of the things you've seen, / And you wish that you could live in between, / And you're back again, / Only different than before, / After the sky."

"On the Steps of the Palace" - Cinderella's prince leaves pitch on the stairs to keep his dream girl from running out of the ball.  Stuck fast, Cinderella considers her options - whether she really has it in her to step into a new, unknown life and become a princess.  the melody is enchanting, and the conundrum is excellent.
Best lyric:  "So then which do you pick: / Where you're safe, out of sight, / And yourself, but where everything's wrong? / Or where everything's right / And you know that you'll never belong?"

"Agony (Reprise)" - "Agony" first appears in Act I, as a pair of princes mourns their lot to be in love with seemingly unattainable maidens Cinderella and Rapunzel.  Their self-absorbed theatrics are funny the first time, but it's even better when they come back in Act II pining for Sleeping Beauty and Snow White, naturally with no thought of the wives they were so desperate for earlier.
Best lyric:  (it doesn't really capture the humor of the number, but it's hard to take it out of the context of their back-and-forth) "Agony! / Such that princes must weep! / Always in thrall most / To anything almost, / Or something asleep."

"Moments in the Woods" - In what is perhaps the most interesting song in the show, the Baker's Wife talks through a recent imprudent decision, wondering why we can't get what we want all the time.  It's fascinating and, when well-delivered, a real standout moment for the actress.
Best lyric:  "Let the moment go... / Don't forget it for a moment, though. / Just remembering you've had an 'and', / When you're back to 'or' , / Makes the 'or' mean more / Than it did before."

"No More" - This gorgeous, plaintive duet, sung by the Baker and the Mysterious Man, might be my favorite of them all.  The Baker is disheartened, wrung out, and angry, and he wants to give up everything he's been working toward.  The Mysterious Man encourages the Baker not to make his mistakes.  The song always makes me think how much it'd really suck to live in a fairytale, your safety forever at the mercy of witches and monsters.
Best lyric:  "No more riddles. / No more jests. / No more curses you can't undo, left by fathers you never knew. / No more quests."

Guardians of the Galaxy (2014, PG-13)

I anticipated this movie in a vague, pleasant sort of way.  It sounded both insane and fun, and while I know by now to place my trust in Marvel, I figured it'd be an enjoyable popcorn-cruncher a decided tier below the other films in the Avengers universe.  Well, color me wrong.  Though Guardians of the Galaxy is very different than Marvel's other outings, it's a rip-roaring good time and every bit as well-made as its cousin films.

This time around, we're treated to a cheeky space adventure, a bit like Firefly but with more aliens, less Chinese swearing, and the role of Jayne Cobb played by a cocky raccoon with a machine gun.  The outer-space stuff is more Star Wars than Thor, and the usual superpowered protagonist has been replaced by a motley collection of outlaws surprisingly poised to become heroes.

The only way to start is with the characters.  Peter Quill, better known (to himself) as Star-Lord, is a human who was abducted by aliens as a child and now makes a living as a small-time fencer of acquired goods.  When he picks up a small metal orb of great value and unknown function, he unwittingly becomes a target for Gamora, a cool-as-ice alien assassin:  green in complexion, a walking weapon, and known to associate with local genocidal megalomaniac Ronan.  As she attempts to take the orb from him, Peter and the price on his head are noticed by bounty hunters Rocket - a quick-witted, genetically- and cybernetically-enhanced raccoon - and Groot - a walking, talking (well, if we're being generous) tree-creature who is just awesome.  The resulting scuffle lands them all in a spot of bother, at which point they meet Drax (the Destroyer,) a hulking figure with a vendetta against Ronan and an incurable tendency to take everything literally.

And things just get better from there.  We get schemes, capers, space battles, a catchy 80s soundtrack (Peter was abducted with his portable tape player,) electrified-sword fights, prosthetic legs, dirty jokes, an "I aim to misbehave"-style speech, cross-species bickering, off-the-charts badassery, self-sacrifice, and legends of Kevin Bacon - and that's just off the top of my head.  The movie blends action, mythos, comedy, and heart with aplomb, hitting all the right beats, and I love the detail paid to the creation of a multi-species space culture.  These worlds feel specific and lived in, and interconnected in realistic ways.

The entire main cast is excellent.  I'll single out Chris Pratt as Peter and Bradley Cooper as Rocket, and I don't know in what percentages kudos are due to Vin Diesel, the animators, and the writers, but I love Groot so much I can't even.  On the villainous side of things, Lee Pace, Karen Gillan (Amy Pond!), and Djimon Hounsou (goodness gracious, I love In America) are all great as the sinister Kree.  The whole trio is very convincingly alien, and Lee Pace in particular gives a really entertaining, lofty performance as the monstrous Ronan.

Warnings

Violence (including deaths and attempted genocide,) sexual content, swearing, and drinking.

Relationship Spotlight: Sara & Capt. Crewe (A Little Princess)

First, a shameful admission:  I've never actually read the book.  I know, I know - what sort of female bookworm am I?  However, I'm fiercely devoted to the 1995 Alfonso Cuaron film, and while I hear it takes great liberties with the story, I love it far too much to care.  Anyway, today's post comes courtesy of said movie, so if any comments make you suspect I haven't done the assigned reading, you're absolutely right.

I don't know what it is about father-daughter relationships in fiction, but they tend to have a greater capacity to "get to me" than any other kind of of fictional relationship.  It wrecks me to see girls desperately loving terrible fathers who never come through for them, I melt seeing men bend the heavens to provide for their daughters, and when a perfect pair comes along, I hardly know what to do with myself.  I've yet to see any, though, that move me quite like Sara Crewe and her father.

They're not even onscreen together that much, since of course the brunt of the story takes place at Sara's boarding school while Capt. Crewe fights in World War I.  Still, their scenes at the start of the film couldn't be sweeter.  He's indulgent without spoiling her - her new toys and expensive room at school are as much about assuaging his worries at leaving her as anything else, and when Sara almost immediately clashes with Miss Minchin, he stands back to see how she handles it herself.

Their goodbye is gorgeous.  Lovingly filmed with the light falling on them as she sits in his lap on the window seat, he spins her a comforting story about her doll coming to life and carrying messages between them.  She lightly traces his face with her fingers and, at his wondering if she's memorizing his features, replies, "I already know you by heart."

Though, like I said, they spend most of the movie apart, the presence of each is greatly felt in the scenes of the other.  I love the shot of Capt. Crewe sitting in a lean-to in a storm, reading a letter from Sara, and her upbringing is evident in everything she does.  From her kind acceptance of others to her imaginative storytelling to her headstrong sense of justice, she carries her father's lessons with her.

And the ending - oh my goodness, the ending!  (Be warned, I'm about to spoil the ending of the movie, so turn back now if you so choose...)





First of all, I love that, even not remembering anything about himself or his life, Capt. Crewe's automatic reaction to finding a random kid who's wandered into the house during a thunderstorm is to comfort her.  I love that, even though she's had such a long time for his "death" to sink in, she still recognizes his voice.  I love the enchanted way she looks up at him, that quiet "Papa?", and then how she pounces on him with embraces.  It kills me that he can't remember her, and it's wrenching when they pry her off of him and haul her away screaming and pleading for him.  And then, when he runs out into the rain and shouts her name, and she leaps into his arms, and they're both crying and laughing and clinging to each other like it'd physically hurt to let go?  I'm pretty sure that was the first time I ever cried in a movie theater, and it still gets me every time.

Into the Woods (1987)

Into the Woods is one of my perennial Sondheim favorites.  In addition to the DVD of the original Broadway production, I've seen in onstage four times and have no particular plans to stop.  Do things get a little sloppy and heavy-handed at times?  Sure, but that's small potatoes compared to the complete picture.

This musical tosses a number of fairytales in a blender, principally Cinderella, Jack (of beanstalk fame,) Little Red Riding Hood, and Rapunzel.  It also features a baker and his wife, currently childless but desperate not to remain so; they're tangentially related to Rapunzel's story but largely invented.  At the outset of the show, everyone has a particular wish, and Act I plays out the original stories essentially as written:  wolves and giants are slain, princes ride in to carry the day, and everyone (who deserves it) gets their wish.

Some productions end the show at intermission, but they're missing the point.  As with Sunday in the Park with George, two seemingly-disparate acts come together to create a richer whole.  In this case, Act II explores what happens after the happily ever after, the consequences of getting one's wish.  To some extent, everyone gives something up or compromises their ideals to get what they want (or think they want,) and the second act shows a reckoning as they all try to repair what they've done.

The score is pure Sondheim, from intricate book pieces like "Your Fault" to searing melodies like "No One is Alone", from the sly hilarity of "Agony" and its reprise to the soft profundity of "No More."  I'm going to have to do a Top Five post on the music, because there's no way I have room to even touch on the magnificence here.

Thematically, the show maybe tries to cover a bit too much, but I appreciate its ambition.  It looks at themes of desire, dissatisfaction, sacrifice, and morality that doesn't align with binary divisions.  It refuses to be content with the overt "good" and "evil" monikers of traditional fairytales, making subtler distinctions and recognizing the potential for both good and evil within every choice.  In this way, it gives these stories a more thoughtful, grown-up treatment.  Here, "witches can be right," and "giants can be good," and the characters must learn to reason beyond their initial assessments of themselves and others.

Warnings

Some violence, drinking, sexuality, thematic elements, and scary moments.