February 2: "Random Shoes" (TW)

And finally, just like that, the clouds open and we get an episode of Torchwood that's worthwhile.  In some ways it's like "Love & Monsters" from series 2 of Doctor Who¹⁸⁰, in that the majority of the episode is told from the perspective of an outsider -- in this case Eugene Jones.  The difference here is that the episode opens with Eugene dead, while his ghost (for lack of a better term) follows Gwen around, trying to piece together the circumstances of his death.

It's not an overly saccharine story: Eugene's life isn't shown to be anything special.  In fact, he appears to have wasted most of it, waiting for an alien that never arrived.  His friends don't seem terribly close with him (in fact, the owner of the video store, Josh, is something of an asshole when it comes to Eugene -- but then it's not immediately clear if he's actually Eugene's friend, or just Gary's), and no one beyond his mother and Linda at the call center seems to really miss him that much.  In other hands this could be really depressing and sad -- but because Eugene's narrating it for us, and because he seems accepting of it all (even if he's not thrilled by it), it's OK.

Eugene saves Gwen's life. ("Random Shoes") ©BBC

The fact that Eugene doesn't remember what happened until Gwen finds out about it is a nice touch -- that means there's no excessive foreshadowing or brooding about what's coming; instead, Eugene is just as curious as the rest of us to learn what happened.  This gives the episode a fresh quality, as we all learn together.  And it certainly helps that Eugene, despite being something of a loser (as he himself admits), is so likeable.  You just wish that he'd been happier while he was alive, instead of constantly waiting -- either for an alien or for his father, who his mother said was working in America but had actually simply left and was working as a clerk nearby.  But Eugene's death does seem to have caused one good thing: his father has come back.  It may not be permanent and it may not be "happily ever after", but as the handshake at the end between Eugene's father and younger brother shows, it might still be the start of something.

And that's the point, ultimately, of "Random Shoes".  It's not necessarily that you made a huge impact while you were alive, but even the small effects you have on others, both while you're here and after, can lead to different things.  It's a bittersweet episode, but a lovely one -- it's not cynical or stupid.  Jacquetta May is probably better known as an actress than a writer, but if she writes other things as lovely and honest as this then she's got a good career to fall back on.  It's a shame they didn't bring her back to write for the show again, because this is easily the best episode we've gotten yet, and possibly the best episode of the entire series.







¹⁸⁰ For the same reason, it turns out -- this, like "Love & Monsters", is a "double-banked" episode, where filming occurs on this at the same time as another episode.  That's why this episode focuses primarily on Gwen and a new character.

February 1: "They Keep Killing Suzie" (TW)

I'm not even sure what to make of this episode.  It's incredibly dumb, but there doesn't even seem to have been any sort of point to it.  The best guess I have is that someone said, "Hey, let's bring Indira Varma back!  We don't need a good reason!"

Gwen and Jack bring Suzie back to life. ("They Keep Killing
Suzie") ©BBC

I mean, it's sort of nice to see her back, but they've bent over backwards to do so in such a way that it's very hard to believe this is how these characters normally act.  Why else is Gwen suddenly advocating using that resurrection glove that drove Suzie mad?  And why is Jack okay with this?  This leads to a plot entirely driven by technobabble, where the authors, Paul Tomalin & Daniel McCulloch (and incidentally, where did these writers come from?  This is one of only four author credits for Tomalin, and the only one for McCulloch.  Apparently they were a "gift" from Davies' friend Paul Abbott...), simply invent a new bit of technobabble to get from moment to moment.  Suzie won't come back to life with the glove?  That's okay, stab her with the knife she was killing people with because it's made of the same material -- that'll work!  (You know, just like how you can use a kitchen magnet as a speaker.)  Need the rest of the Torchwood crew out of the way for a bit?  Just have some sort of lockdown!  Need them out of it?  Have Tosh suddenly start babbling about ISBN numbers.  Oh wait, we cut all the power (except for all the lights and things, but never mind) -- so just say that the membrane on the keyboard might recognize the code (!) and we'll be good to go!  Oh, and we need to have some sort of connection between Suzie and Gwen, so let's make one up, such that Suzie is slowly leeching life energy from Gwen (and, for some reason, transferring her wounds) -- but make it so that it instantly snaps back when Tosh destroys the glove.

The net effect of all this is to try to suggest that all of these events are part of some elaborate plan Suzie put into action back when she was still (properly) alive, but even when you set aside the huge number of unlikely decisions that would have to coincide for this plan to work, the ultimate point appears to be...what?  A way to kill her father?  The whole thing is built up like some sort of master plan, complete with locking down Torchwood and drugging some guy for two years just so he'll go mad and put this plan into action, but it's never clear what the payoff is supposed to be.  It doesn't look like she wants to achieve anything she couldn't have done while she was alive.  (They could have gotten around this by suggesting that she wanted to see what there was after death, but they don't.)

But all of the gaping logical problems might have been acceptable if there'd been a point to it all, some statement Tomalin & McCulloch were trying to make, or some idea they wanted to explore.  But there isn't -- at least not in the episode as broadcast; it's possible there was a point to it all that was edited out at some stage, but that's not what we get.  Instead we get a series of increasingly unlikely coincidences, and for what?  To show that Suzie was dangerous all along?  To show that Gwen is easily manipulated?  Or is the entire episode just to set up the idea that there's "something moving in the dark" that's coming for Jack?  It's hard to tell what they were going for, and thus even harder to tell why they bothered.

(Oh, and apparently Ianto and Jack are shagging now?  Ianto recovered pretty quickly from "There isn't an inch of me that doesn't hurt" last episode, didn't he?)

January 31: "Greeks Bearing Gifts" (TW)

Finally, an episode that isn't embarrassingly stupid.  That's not to say that there aren't stupid moments (as well as some excruciating ones), but as a whole "Greeks Bearing Gifts" is less offensively idiotic than most of what we've seen before on Torchwood.

In fact, the main plot of this episode is really rather good.  Having given all of the other characters a spotlight episode, it's finally Tosh's turn -- and the show decides to tear her down.  To be fair, this is so that she can be in a vulnerable state and ready for Mary to take advantage of, but it still has the unhappy side-effect of making Tosh seem like an outsider on the team -- and the fact that Owen and Gwen have started shagging and are bad at hiding it certainly doesn't help, since it seems that Tosh has a crush on Owen for some unfathomable reason.

Mary threatens to kill Tosh unless she gets her way. ("Greeks
Bearing Gifts") ©BBC

So while the decisions that Tosh makes regarding Mary and her pendant are rather stupid, they're all too easy to sympathize with.  We don't shake our heads at Tosh, wondering what in the world she's thinking; no, writer Toby Whithouse (who, you may remember, wrote "School Reunion" for Doctor Who) gives us a clear path to see, one that it's not too hard to see ourselves walking down.  All right, maybe without the lesbian kiss and implied sex, but that looks more like an effort to keep up Torchwood's "adult" reputation than a logical conclusion of what we're presented.

In fact, that tendency toward "adult" content (rather than actual adult -- as in "grown-up" -- content) hurts things somewhat, because without that aspect "Greeks Bearing Gifts" actually has one of the most grown-up storylines the show has yet provided: what would it be like to eavesdrop on other people's thoughts, and would that be far worse than reading someone's diary?  What would it be like to hear the thoughts people don't even want to admit to themselves?  It's an interesting idea that they have some fun exploring -- notably with Tosh stopping the ex-husband who's going to kill his family; the pendant can lead to positive results as well as negative.  There's also a welcome discussion about Torchwood's rather xenophobic tendencies: "You'll examine me, assess whether or not I'm useful, whether I'm a danger, then lock me in a cell," Mary tells Tosh after revealing she's an alien.  "You're not interested in understanding alien cultures.  It's just as well you haven't got the technology to reach other planets yet.  Yours is a culture of invasion."  Both questions are ultimately sidestepped, as Mary is revealed to have been killing people for 196 years (according to Tosh's analysis at the beginning¹⁷⁹), but as the first question isn't one that there's an easy answer to, its unresolved nature is okay -- and the fact that Tosh and Jack discuss it a bit afterwards also helps.  (And they can't really explore the second question without fundamentally changing the nature of the show -- something that it looks like they're unwilling to do.)

Really, the main problem with "Greeks Bearing Gifts" is the relationship between Gwen and Owen.  Owen seems about as much of an ass as ever, but Gwen is now heading in his direction as well.  The teasing of Owen feels like it's overdone, and while it's admittedly her thoughts that we're privy to (with the catty thought about jeans in boots -- was that true in the UK?  Because it was the exact opposite in the US...), they don't do her any favors.  And her attempted justification to Tosh at the end is lousy as well.  "This should be my wake up call," she tells Tosh.  "I should stop, but I won't.  What does that say about me?"  "That you're a bad person," my wife and I simultaneously yelled at the screen.  So much for the audience having any sympathy for Gwen.  I guess that leaves Tosh and maybe Captain Jack.

So other than the ongoing train wreck that's most of the main characters (but Owen and Gwen in particular), "Greeks Bearing Gifts" is a decent episode.  Somewhat miraculously, Tosh's character comes out of this unscathed (in the audience's eyes, if not necessarily in her own) -- that alone is cause for celebration.  Now that they've finished examining each character, maybe they can get on with telling more interesting stories -- and in that respect, "Greeks Bearing Gifts" is certainly a large step in the right direction.







¹⁷⁹ Our first major dating conflict: series 1 of Torchwood is supposed to occur in 2007 or so, but Tosh's inexact dating of the soldier's body places this episode in 2009 or so.  We're forced to conclude, based on all the surrounding evidence (much of which we haven't seen yet, so you'll have to take it on faith for now), that Tosh is even less exact than she thought.

January 30: "Countrycide" (TW) (Second Attempt)

All right.  For all the cheap shock value and dread that "Countrycide" gives us, there does seem to be a point at its heart: namely, that humans can be bigger monsters than actual monsters.  The problem with that point is that a) we don't really learn it until near the end, and b) it's not exactly the most original point ever -- Torchwood's parent show makes that point every three episodes or so, and they don't have to put it in a wannabe slasher movie to do so.

The Torchwood team approach a seemingly deserted village.
("Countrycide") ©BBC

Up to the point where we learn it's just (just) cannibals in rural Wales, rather than an alien threat, "Countrycide" (which is a rubbish title, by the way -- yes, puns and all that, but taken at face value, it means "killing the country") keeps trying to have it both ways: suggesting there's an alien presence/influence at work while trying to play out a slasher flick at the same time.  Now I'm not the biggest fan of slasher films, so I might not be the best person to judge, but it seems like this one pulls most of its punches.  We get some gore in the form of human carcasses, a bunch of blood and a few unidentifiable entrails, and some severed limbs.  And that's about it.  No on-screen killings (or even attempted ones -- unless you count the scared kid Kieran shooting Gwen in the stomach with a shotgun), no sense of people tempting fate or disregarding warnings, no examination of what made the villagers this way... it's like Chris Chibnall wants to ape the conventions of slasher films without putting any real reason into why.  Now, it's likely there are BBC guidelines for what can be shown on television, even post-watershed, that prevents the production team from going all out on this.  But then why bother?  If you can't go full out, and you don't have a deeper purpose behind your slasher episode than "Let's see if we can," what's the point?  It's like the thought of an alien presence is enough justification to go through the motions without putting in any deeper context, and we should applaud them for trying.

And while "Countrycide" does a decent job of building up tension and making the audience nervous (so at least director Andy Goddard is trying), it never follows through on any of its threats.  It doesn't even kill Kieran, who seemed for sure like he was there to be the token victim, to demonstrate just how dangerous the cannibals are.  It's the televisual equivalent of one of those haunted houses people put on in October: lots of stuff that might startle you or make you nervous, but nothing that will ultimately hurt you.  When you don't know that, on first viewing, that might be enough.  Every subsequent time it's frankly boring.

Then, as if to rub salt in the wound, we learn at the end that Gwen is cheating on Rhys with Owen (that's the same Owen who's back to prick mode in the first part of this episode and looks like he's on the verge of sexual assault in the forest scene, is it?) because "I can't share [these new things I'm experiencing] with anyone."  Ay yai yai.  What is wrong with these people?  (Oh, and as long as we're wondering about stupid things... why is it necessary for everyone in Torchwood to head out to rural Wales -- overnight, it turns out -- to investigate some disappearances?  What happens if something occurs back in Cardiff?  Why is Ianto out in the field at all, given he appears to be little more than a glorified page?)

I said at the beginning that there seems to be a point buried in "Countrycide".  But that's not strictly true.  It's more like an afterthought, a way to try and rationalize the last forty-five minutes.  And that's not enough to justify the meaningless episode we've been subjected to.  This almost works if you've never seen it before, or if it's been long enough that you've forgotten most of the details; then some of the surprises and the "is it aliens?" angle might actually keep you interested.  For everyone else it's a tedious slog through a story that has nothing to say and no clear point.  It's a hotly-contested title, but "Countrycide" might be the worst episode Torchwood has ever put out.

January 30: "Countrycide" (TW)

What the hell was the point of that?

January 29: "Small Worlds" (TW)

It's nice to finally get an episode that doesn't feel vaguely mean-spirited in some way.  One of the problems with Torchwood thus far is that it's a very negative show -- very dark and unhappy.  "Small Worlds" is still rather unhappy, but it stems more from the stories being told than because they're artificially trying to be "adult".

It's not perfect in this regard; we still get a paedophile following a young girl, and while we see him apparently attacked while in the process of luring in a young girl and later killed by these same somethings, it's hard to feel any real worry or regret about his death.  Still, at least he wasn't successful in his attempted kidnapping -- it's all too easy to envision a version of this story where that happens -- and so it's nice to see a bit of restraint.

Those "somethings", by the way, are Torchwood's take on the Cottingley fairies, a hoax from the early 20th century where two girls had claimed to have taken photos of fairies.  As Gwen points out, both women admitted that the photos were a hoax, but at the time they had taken hold of England's imagination -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was just one of many convinced of their veracity.  (Houdini wasn't one of them, though -- Owen gets that wrong.)  But Jack says that's just a way to make people comfortable with their existence, and that they're actually evil "from the dawn of time" (just like Fenric, eh?).  He also makes an offhand reference to the Mara, which may or may not be the Mara from 20th-century Doctor Who.¹⁷⁸

Jack and Estelle. ("Small Worlds") ©BBC

This leads to probably the most interesting parts of the episode: its exploration of Captain Jack.  The stuff in 1909 Punjab is intriguing for the hints it gives us of other things Jack has done, but it's his relationship with Estelle that is the most touching.  The implication is that Jack has been on Earth for a long time, and it's sweet how he visits the girl he loved in the 1930s now, even if he tells her he's the son of the man she knew.  It shows us a tender side of Jack, one that's been largely missing from Torchwood, which seems to want him to be a brooding loner instead.  It's a good move, showing him vulnerable as he stays the same age while the rest of the universe moves on but still in love with the people he's known (and I have to say, it works a lot better for Jack, who had immortality thrust upon him, than it does for the Doctor, who's a member of a race of incredibly long-lived people), and it gives Estelle's death -- poor, sweet Estelle, who thought the fairies were benign creatures -- a greater impact.  This is in fact the most emotionally involving episode we've seen yet.  "Ghost Machine" and "Cyberwoman" both tried really hard to pull on our heartstrings, but both efforts felt too calculated, with not enough substance behind them.  "Small Worlds", on the other hand, does this quietly and sweetly with Jack's reactions to Estelle.

I also like the ending, which feels right even if it's a bit bleak (and, to jump ahead here, this isn't the first time Jack's had to sacrifice a child for the good of humanity; see Children of Earth).  The idea that fairies aren't good is hardly a new one -- that idea's as old as the idea of fairies itself -- but they do a decent job pulling it off here.  It doesn't always succeed -- there's a slight issue with making most of the targets of the fairies' wrath not nice people, which dulls their impact somewhat -- but "Small Worlds" is finally an episode of Torchwood you can watch without cringing.







¹⁷⁸ It's not clear if this is a reference to Doctor Who's Mara or the one from folklore.  Jack's description suggests the latter, but it's just about possible that author Peter J. Hammond (best known as the creator and main writer of Sapphire and Steel) is trying to tie them both together.  After all, he'd been tapped to write one of the segments of The Trial of a Time Lord (the third one -- his story was known as Paradise 5 but was rejected because Nathan-Turner disliked it), so it's conceivable that he'd done some research on the show and knew of the Mara.  Producer Chris Chibnall definitely would have known about the Mara, so this is likely an intentional decision to tie the two together, rather than a coincidence.

January 28: "Cyberwoman" (TW)

It's really hard to see what the point of this episode is.  I can see what director James Strong is going for -- he wants to make this a scary episode, with lots of handheld camera shots and dark shadows for Lisa the Cyberman to get lost in.  He even partially succeeds.  But what is Chris Chibnall trying to do with this script?

In some ways the script wants to be tense and claustrophobic and terrifying, and those are probably the moments where "Cyberwoman" comes the closest to succeeding.  The moments that pit Jack against Ianto work surprisingly well, even if Ianto's repeated accusations that Jack is a monster and "worse than anything locked up down there" ring rather hollow (they want it to be like Margaret's accusations against the Doctor in "Boom Town", but works even less well here because Jack's trying to stop a rampaging alien monster from destroying them the way Torchwood One was destroyed, so it's really hard to keep sympathizing with Ianto by the end).  The tension as they point guns at each other is very effective (even if it's hard not to see this as a success on Strong's part rather than Chibnall's).

Ianto looks at the partially-Cybernized Lisa. ("Cyberwoman") ©BBC

But there are some massively stupid things going on in "Cyberwoman".  The first one is the appearance of Lisa herself.  They bend over backwards to explain why her body is still there when we saw in "Rise of the Cybermen" / "The Age of Steel" that all the Cybermen were taking was the brain (because they needed to move fast or something), just so they can present us with this bizarre sexualized creation.  It's not just the literal breastplate, or that fact that the Cybermen cut a groove on the butt plate to make it look like she has a butt.  It's not even the way the bellybutton is highlighted and exposed.  It's the fact that she's wearing Cyber-heels, for heaven's sake.  It's like a technofetishist's wet dream.  There's also no explanation as to why she wasn't sucked into the Void along with the rest of the Cybermen in "Doomsday", beyond a passing reference to using "Earth technology", which could mean anything.  (The associated website tried to explain this -- and it's not a good sign when you have to explain plot holes on your official website -- by arguing that the Cybermen started using our resources to convert people, and that only things that had originated in Pete's World were pulled into the Void.  Fair enough, but that doesn't explain why Lisa seems to be the only person made entirely with "our" Earth parts, or why there's only one Cyber-conversion unit made with our resources. -- or why they decided to start giving their fellow Cybermen defined breasts.)

There's also the stupidity of Ianto hiding this thing in Torchwood's basement -- it's understandable, entirely human stupidity, but it's still stupidity -- and the longer it goes on, as he refuses to see the evidence of his own eyes, the less we feel for him.  Owen snogging Gwen while in the mortuary cooler is in keeping with what we know about Owen.  What's not in keeping is Gwen deciding to kiss him back.  Lots of people stop and stare at Lisa even after being told to run and do things as quick as they can while others buy them time that they're currently wasting by stopping and staring.  And the fight between Lisa and the pterodactyl is also daft -- and it doesn't seem to have done a damn thing one way or the other.  And why do all the doors to the top-secret base obligingly open for Annie the pizza delivery girl?

Here's the thing: you can forgive stupid things if there's a good reason behind it, or if it adds to the drama in some meaningful way (such as the fifth Doctor not drinking the queen bat's milk right when he gets it, because his impending death overriding just about everything else is part of the reason the end of The Caves of Androzani works so well).  But there's no sign of that here.  There's no point to any of this.  At least Chibnall's last script ("Day One") had something to say about sexuality in Western culture (even if that something appeared to be little more than, "Hey, Western culture is sexualized!").  There's not even that here.  This looks like it was designed to have a sexy Cyberwoman scare everyone and nothing else.  There don't even seem to be any real consequences at the end of it, as we see Ianto back to work and cleaning things up.  It's unbelievably shallow, worryingly misogynist, and ultimately pointless.