nuWho 1×10: The Doctor Dances


Okay, so we left our heroes cornered by hive-mind zombies intent on infecting them with gas masks. Just your standard cliffhanger. The Doctor tries telling the hospital bunch that he’s angry with them and they should go to their rooms. All of them, plus the Child, adopt identical dejected body language and shuffle away. The Doctor is happy the threat is over: “Those would have been terrible last words.”

While Nancy sobs for her lost brother, Jack and the Doctor expand upon a few plot points from Part 1. Jack protests that his con game is fun for all ages and he’s not to blame for any of this virus stuff. As you can guess, the 9th Doctor is angry with him, possibly for trying to deflect blame (it’s become a theme this season) as much as for what his actions have led to.

Nancy suffers a jump scare as she’s leaving the house, as the Child steps out from around a corner! But it’s just the resident boy wearing a normal gas mask. His parents capture Nancy and bundle her back into the house, presumably so the mother can administer boiling-hot justice via her coffeepot.

The Doctor leads the way up the hospital’s stairs to look at Patient Zero. He lets Jack neutralize the lock on the door so he can get a good look at Jack’s sonic blaster (not a euphemism). Continuing this Doctor’s theme of being a walking disaster magnet, Jack mentions that the facility that made his gun was destroyed. The Doctor agrees: “Like I said, [I was there] once.” The fact that bananas are now grown there now is also implied to be his doing. One might further infer that he’s messing with Jack deliberately. The gun’s shooty visual effect is kind of cheesy but fun. Rose likes it too.

The room beyond is half lab, half bedroom, and all a mess. Jack surmises that something strong and angry escaped, but the walls are covered with childish drawings of stickmen. Playing back an interrogation recording yields what the viewer expects: One question after another is met with a childish voice repeating variations on “Are you my mummy? I want my mummy!” Grim, the Doctor sees that the stick figures all represent a woman. One thought permeating this child’s mind: to find his mother. As a new father, I’m reminded that a young child’s need for his or her parents is a primal desire, an instinct that can override all other emotions when the urge strikes. Not even proximity is enough sometimes.

As the recording provides an eerie backdrop, the Doctor demands to know why the monkeys around him can’t feel “it” emanating from the walls. “When he’s stressed he likes to insult species”, Rose tells Jack, which is as good an explanation as any. The Doctor reasons through what must have happened: children all over London, looking for food; the spaceship crashes; someone gets altered; then — what? “It’s afraid,” the Doctor says as the recording changes to “I’m he-ere!” “The power of a god, and I just sent it to its room”, he grins. But then it sets in that the tape ended and the voice is still talking. “And this is its room”, he concludes, and spins around — and the background music, respectfully absent for a while, now jumps in to punctuate the sight of the Child on the other side of the table, blocking their escape.

Jack pulls his gun to shoot the Child, but finds he’s holding a banana. The Doctor grins and uses Jack’s gun to remove part of the wall. They jump through, Jack reverse-guns the wall back into existence, the Child starts punching through the wall, and they flee, only to run into the other patients. Trapped, Jack starts enumerating the uses of his blaster. “What’ve you got?” he asks the Doctor. The Doctor proudly pulls out his screwdriver and announces, “I’ve got –” then realizes how lame it would sound and finishes with “– never mind. It’s sonic, okay, let’s leave it at that.” Finally, pressured further, he admits it’s a screwdriver. This is the best contender yet for Favorite Dialogue. We all know what will win, yes, but honorary mentions all around.

Anyway, Rose finally shoots the floor with Jack’s gun and they fall through to the next floor. (Spock raises an approving eyebrow at her three-dimensional thinking and Han mutters about maybe beginning to like her.) Jack asks, “Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks, ooh, this could be a little more sonic?” and the Doctor says defensively, “What, you’ve never been bored? Never had a long night, never had a lot of cabinets to put up?” They find they’re in another room of the Living Gas Masks and, upon finding Jack’s gun is spent (not a euphemism), the Doctor just opens the door himself and sonics it locked behind them. Jack complains about the Doctor blowing up the gun factory, to which Rose responds, “The first day we met, he blew up my job. It’s practically how he communicates.”

The Doctor calls for a list of assets, to which Jack snarks about the lack of same, to which the Doctor asks Rose where she found this romantic interest. A bit of banter more, and Jack disappears with a teleporty sound.

Nancy has blackmailed her way out of her citizen’s arrest and picked up wirecutters, a torch, and food into the bargain. She finds her boys and scolds them for reusing a hideout. One of them, blissfully ignoring logic, is illiterately typing a letter to his father, whereabouts currently unknown. Nancy tells them they have to think for themselves in case she never comes back. She’s headed to the “bomb site” to try to solve the mystery herself. One of the boys protests that she keeps them safe, to which she responds that the Child keeps homing in on her, and as long as they are with her they will never be safe. As evidence, she points out that the typing SFX have continued even with nobody near the typewriter. Spooky!

Jack phones back to the Doctor and Rose by activating the hospital’s broken radio, using his fancy spaceship’s capabilities. The Doctor notes that the Child can do the same thing, to which the Child singsongs, “And I can hear you. Coming to find you”, which just makes it creepier.

The Doctor sets about the time-honored task of loosening the bars in the window of their effective prison cell. You know, just in case the self-centered con man from the future doesn’t come back for them. Rose says she trusts Jack because he’s like the Doctor except he also knows how to get a girl’s heart racing. The Doctor, rather than take umbrage at the implication that he too would run a con and then shrug off the collateral damage, protests he can totally dance. (The Doctor Who wiki says there is one instance of the Doctor dancing in the old show.) Rose calls his bluff, and he steps toward her with a very unfamiliar look of trepidation on his face, one of being at a loss as to what to do next. Were I a Doctor/Rose ‘shipper, I’d say he’s only now realizing the depths of Rose’s feelings for him *siiiigh*. Anyway, he catches sight of Rose’s healthy hands, and wants to know where the burns from that barrage balloon rope are. Rose explains about Captain Jack Harkness’s Patent Cure-All NanobotsTM. This works to get an important plot point reintroduced for this episode while seeming to just be a way to progress the, uh, interest triangle centered on Rose. As they start to dance, not impressing Rose in the least, Jack pipes in to inform them that he teleported them aboard unawares.

The Doctor recognizes this as a Chula ship too, only more functional than the derelict. Accordingly he snaps his fingers, causing a glowing swarm of nanobots/”nanogenes” to appear around his hand and fix a burn. He patters about them some more, but if you’re really super-detective you probably picked up on the “genes” part of their name, connected it with the re-writing DNA comment from the end of last episode, and went hmmm. He then, not at all euphemistically, tells Jack he needs to see Jack’s “space junk”. There’s also a bit of backstory for Jack, as he used to be a Time Agent, only to discover they’d removed two years’ worth of his memories.

Nancy has gotten herself captured at the crash site. She’s chained to a desk with a soldier sporting the hottest new injury everyone’s wearing this season. Nancy begs the commanding officer to detain her somewhere else, but being Nancy, she never tries to explain why. Even when the CO catches the soldier calling him “Mummy”. She then tries to tell the soldier to let her go, with no results.

Outside, Jack distracts “Algy”, the CO, while the Doctor cheerfully tells Rose about humanity going out into the galaxy and dancing with all the aliens they can find (this is a euphemism). Rose isn’t sure what to make of this. Jack isn’t sure what to make of Algy — his posh demeanor has degenerated into childish body language and a preoccupation with the word “mummy”. After the inevitable transformation, the Doctor announces that the whatever-it-is is airborne now (how would he know?), and there are only hours left to save the human race. An air raid siren sounds the alarm, and Rose remembers that a bomb is supposed to hit here soon.

Our heroes stop by to rescue Nancy, who sang her soldier to sleep, then look over the derelict ambulance. It looks like it could hold two, maybe four humans if they held their breaths. Jack tries to open it, but trips emergency crash protocols that involve a siren and a blinking red light. Probably not a good thing then? All the Gas Mask people wake up and head for the crash site. Not a good thing. The Doctor tosses Rose his screwdriver and tells her which setting will close up Nancy’s hole in the fence. It’s setting #2000-odd, which suggests an awful lot of long, bored nights.

“Be sure you don’t use setting 2,428E by mistake. That turns barbed wire into Mr. T action figures. I was on an ’80s kick at the time, all right?”

Rose and Nancy talk about the future as they repair the fence. (Rose makes it easier for the VFX people by making the screwdriver glow extra-bright as the wire repairs.) Nancy finds it hard to believe that any future exists beyond this war that doesn’t involve Germans goose-stepping all over Britain.

Jack has gotten the ambulance open and declares it empty. The Doctor counters that it contains enough nanogenes to “rebuild a species.” The nanogenes found a dead child wearing a gas mask, healed and brought it back to life as best they could guess, then used the result as a template to “fix” all the rest of the humans they found. Which will be everyone in the world. Since the derelict is designed for the battlefield, it added on standard Chula warrior features, which covers all the supernatural things we’ve seen the victims do. Such as them now converging on the ambulance to defend it.

As the bombs get closer, Jack kinda-sorta-doesn’t really apologize for having to leave them in the lurch, actually apologizes with his eyes, and then teleports out. Meanwhile the Doctor has looked up Nancy on IMDB and realizes that she’s old enough to in fact be the Child’s mother. As the Child marches forward with his army, the Doctor urges Nancy to tell him the truth. Tragically, there isn’t enough Jamie left to understand Nancy’s answer, so she finally tells him she’s sorry and gives him the physical contact she’s been afraid of the whole story, embracing him as the son she’s been afraid to admit to his whole life. And then the nanogenes kick in and create a cloud of glowy love around them. It’s touches like these that win Hugos.

As the Doctor looks on in hope, the nanogenes recognize Nancy’s DNA as similar to Jamie’s, then reconstruct him properly based on the new information.

Jack flies by and tractors the bomb before it drops on the happy reunion. The, uh, “special” effects strike again here. I’m guessing the FX people were at a loss as to how to stage this bit, so they had someone’s five-year-old come in and show them how to do it with toys. And . . . uh . . . Jack is riding the bomb now. Huh. The Doctor tells him the bomb isn’t necessary — he must have told Jack to let the bomb drop and wipe out the infection, back while the barbed wire was being repaired — and Jack says goodbye before teleporting himself and the stasis’ed bomb into the ship and flying away.

That, uh, that happened.

Then the Doctor calls down the nanogenes onto his hands, apparently reprograms them with a twiddling of his fingers, and, beaming, flings them at the Gas Mask Army. “Everybody lives!” he shouts, and sure enough, everyone gets up with their proper faces on. He compliments Dr. Constantine, who may not remember the whole freaky zombie thing, and leaves him to deal with a lady whose leg has grown back. “There is a war on, is it possible you miscounted?” Dr. C. asks her.

The ambulance is set to self-destruct once nobody is nearby, the nanogenes are set to deactivate once everyone is cured, and the Doctor is ecstatic. “Ask me anything!” he declares, so Rose wants to know why Jack said goodbye. Well, that’s a downer.

We find Jack in deep space, trying to figure out how to get rid of a bomb before it eats through stasis. Finding no way out, he sips booze to remain upbeat and reflects on previous times he was doomed to die. It seems we’re about to witness a brave man meeting his end . . . but then the TARDIS appears in the back of the ship, with Rose urging him into the control room as she instructs the Doctor in dancing. Rose invites Jack to cut in, but the Doctor suddenly remembers his dance moves and the episode ends with Jack watching with approval as the Doctor and Rose strut their stuff.

Honestly, I could have done a “top ten dialogues” list for this story and have had plenty of material left over.

Rating: 4 square-shaped sonic blaster bolts

Favorite dialogue: The Doctor: Come on. Give me a day like this. Give me this one.
[He removes the mask from Jamie, then laughs.]
The Doctor: Twenty years to pop music, you’re gonna love it.
[…]
The Doctor: Everybody lives, Rose. Just this once! Everybody lives!

Things from this episode also appearing in the Matt Smith run: I dunno, four at least?
Things even more pointless than a sonic screwdriver: sonic carpenter’s level, sonic lockpick, sonic eyebrows

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nuWho 1×09: The Empty Child

Great title, huh? The teaser isn’t much on plot, though, as we find the TARDIS chasing a mysterious distress signal–emitting cylinder that is headed for London by way of a mess of time tracks (the space equivalent of the Underground). Rose is wearing a Union Jack shirt for no apparent reason other than this being a very British episode.

Having landed in nighttime London, the Doctor re-introduces the psychic paper, again as a device to let him go around asking people about the weird thing of the week. Structurally, this introduces the idea for when Jack pulls his own paper out later on. But between that and Rose’s dramatic outfit and a few other details, I wonder if TPTB sensed this two-parter would be something special, and made certain it would do the job as a First Episode. As the Doctor breaks into a building to see who’s playing music in it, Rose is distracted by an eerie, childish voice calling for its mother. She then sees an eerie, childish figure in the distance and decides that’s more interesting than asking somebody about big metal cylinders by way of Stravinsky. This is all good dialogue, by the way.

The Doctor finds himself in a nightclub, with a lady in big furs singing “It Had To Be You, Wonderful You”. He waits out the song appreciatively before commandeering the microphone to ask “Has anything fallen from the sky recently?” The audience finally decides this is a funny question, not a stupid one, then shuffles out of the room as sirens sound. It becomes clear that the TARDIS has taken them to WWII London, during the Nazi air raids.

Meanwhile, Rose has tracked the figure down. It’s a child in a suit who’s decided to accessorize with a gas mask. It’s currently looking about from atop a scary-tall building. Rose catches hold of a rope that a stagehand is enthusiastically waving about and begins to climb up to him. Unfortunately, the rope is attached to a blimp of some variety, which lifts Rose off into the thick of an air battle before she’s pulled herself more than a few feet off the ground. The compositing in these wide shots is . . . not impressive. The rest of the effects — and there are many — are good, especially for the time and on a TV budget, but you’d think they could spare a few last dollars for a merely passable composite shot of Rose drifting across the screen.

The Doctor mentions to a cat that after nine hundred years in the TARDIS, the one thing that could still surprise him would be a travelling companion who doesn’t wander off. Then the fake phone on his fake phone booth rings, which understandably confounds him. A girl with a hard expression appears out of nowhere just long enough to warn him not to answer his TARDIS phone, that the call is not for him. Very spooky! Nancy looks . . . fifteen at the oldest, let’s say, but the actress playing her was about twenty-one at the time the episode aired.

The girl having vanished, the Doctor looks the most indecisive we’ve yet seen him, but finally picks up the phone gingerly. The eerie child’s voice, asking for its mummy, turns the Doctor immediately serious. (As comes up later in the series, the Doctor is friend to all children.) He can’t get anything more out of it, however, and the phone goes dead. He follows a clatter to find a family headed into their bomb shelter, the father less scared than he is frustrated that he can’t finish a proper supper these days. The Doctor catches sight of the mysterious girl slipping into the freshly abandoned house. He finds her inside, feeding homeless boys on the family’s dinner.

Meanwhile, a British officer named Jack uses Luke Skywalker binoculars to investigate an object dangling from a blimp. It’s Rose, still trying to avoid the spectacular battle CGIing around her. He compliments her rump, then when another officer suggests he make himself useful, compliments his rump too. When Rose finally loses her grip on the rope, Jack catches her in a tractor beam and pulls her to safety.

The Doctor ingratiates himself with the home crashers and asks why they haven’t been all evacuated from London. Some were, but landed in abusive situations (a sad historical fact) and headed back to the city they knew. He then gets serious with Nancy, who is defensive. He asks about the phone, Rose, and the cylinder from the teaser, with no results.

When nine hundred years you reach, sketch as well you will not, hmm?

Hearing a tapping and the voice asking after its mummy, he finds the eerie child on the other side of a window, looking in, its hand pressed against the pane. It saw several of the boys and followed them here. Nancy hurries around and bolts the door before it can get inside. A wounded hand comes through the mail slot. Under stress, Nancy tells the Doctor that “it isn’t exactly a child.” As she evacuates the house from a child who is evidently worse than a bombing run, Nancy warns the Doctor not to let it touch him, or he will become like it: “empty”.

And then the phone by the Doctor rings. When Nancy takes it from him and puts it back on the cradle, other things start being triggered. The radio starts playing, and a wind-up monkey clashes its cymbals in time with the child’s “Mummy, mummy” chant. It’s basically a twisted inversion of the “toys” plot thread in Close Encounters, with the child still the focal point, but now being the source of the wrongness. (In fact, there’s an ape-with-cymbals toy here, too.)

The Doctor talks to the Child (it’s capitalized now), telling it its mummy isn’t around, but can get no further information except that it’s afraid of the bombs. He tells it he’ll let it in, but when the door is opened, the Child has vanished.

Meanwhile Rose is overtly attracted to her rescuer (and vice versa), who introduces himself as Captain Jack Harkness. He’s got a fancy spaceship with a tractor beam and a cloaking device and psychic paper and healing nanobots and probably even a stash of Oreos somewhere. As we learn later, he also has an infinite lives cheat, and he’s omnisexual and so are his pheromones. Much like Mickey before I started this rewatch, I’ve seen little of him, and like Mickey before this rewatch I can take or leave him. We’ll see if Jack can similarly elevate himself. So far his dialogue delivery has chafed, although it improves once he decides Rose is a Time Agent.

They go out on top of the spaceship and have a drink, right in front of Big Ben, in the middle of an air raid. As they dance, Jack offers her a Chula warship for sale — if she’s authorized. Rose isn’t sure she likes pretending to be an Agent, but she likes the whole flirting thing. Deciding that he won’t get any money from her, Jack searches for her companion, by doing “a scan for alien tech” — which is what Rose wanted to see the Doctor do earlier. “Finally, a professional,” she declares, beaming.

The Doctor catches up with Nancy, and amid the commentary on his protuberant facial features finally gets the location of the cylinder out of her. The armed forces have it quarantined. Nancy, ever reluctant to give any direct information herself, urges the Doctor to talk to a doctor in a nearby hospital first. The Doctor reflects on the bravery of Great Britain in stopping the Nazis, then sends Nancy on her way to “save the world”.

Inside the hospital, the Doctor finds rooms lined with patients in their beds. All of them wear a gas mask. The doctor, Constantine, is not in the best of health. Constantine tells him there are hundreds of such patients. At his invitation, the Doctor examines a patient and finds head trauma, a collapsed chest cavity, and a hand wound. (Remember, the Child had a prominent gash in its hand as well.) Also the gas mask has inexplicably become fused to the face. The Doctor checks other patients, and all of them have those same features.

Over the Doctor’s protests that this is all impossible, Constantine relates that the cylinder killed only one person initially, but his injuries spread rapidly throughout the hospital like a plague. Stranger still, despite the absence of life signs, none of these patients are dead. To demonstrate, he raps a refuse can, and the patients all sit to attention. This is all slowly paced, with dialogue leading the viewer along, to draw out the suspense and horror. Constantine says he expects that the hospital will be exploded to eliminate the plague, but adds that it has spread around London.

As his coughing worsens, Constantine tells the Doctor where to find Patient Zero, then says it’s Nancy’s brother and that Nancy knows more than she lets on. (The latter is obvious to anyone, especially given that Nancy let on that her brother died from a more normal bomb.) As the Doctor watches in horror, Constantine strains to say “Mummy . . .” and a gas mask grows out of his mouth to cover his face. Gross. Imagine something that size forcing itself out between your jaws.

At this point Jack and Rose arrive to join in the fun. The Doctor takes the news that he’s a Time Agent without the slightest twitch, but being called Mr. Spock, after Rose got on his case for not “Spocking it up” earlier, annoys him. The Doctor demands to know what kind of Chula warship Jack has, at which point Jack drops the rakish air and admits that there’s no such thing, the cylinder is just a space ambulance with nothing useful in it, and he was hoping to sell it to the Agency and then destroy it before they could find out they’d been had. Also, the fabled Oreo stash is just store-brand oatmeal raisin. Also, he threw the cylinder in their way in the first place, in order to get their attention, and you people aren’t actually Time Agents are you?

The Doctor explains the mechanism behind the plague: the victims’ DNA are being rewritten. But the results seem pointless. It isn’t killing them, it isn’t healing them, it isn’t enhancing them, it isn’t mind-controlling them to any useful purpose. Why would anyone invent such a virus?

Meanwhile, Nancy has gone back to the banquet house for more food, but is trapped in the dining room by the Child. She makes a break for the door, but the Child uses its Force powers to slam the door shut. As it advances on her, ignoring her attempts to identify herself as its sister, the patients around our other heroes come to life and entrap them with the same haunting question.

“Mummy?”

The dark, often creepy atmosphere lifts this episode immensely. Cramped alleyways, the small nightclub, muted colors, and the bewildering turns of events combine for a story that encloses our heroes tightly even though the action, in principle, ranges across London. Even when Rose is first lifted into the sky, her view is blocked by walls of balloons and aeroplanes. It goes without saying that the use of gas masks to remove the main humanizing feature, the face, while making the enemy/victim instantly recognizable as such was a smart move. And the soundtrack has been on-point as well. The odd thumping when the Doctor is deciding to let the Child in, after Nancy and the children have fled, or the “finally reaching the source” music when the Doctor unlocks the hospital gates and heads inside, for example.

This episode shows the inhabitants of London finding ways to maintain a sense of order in their lives. People visit nightclubs; the father’s irritation reflects the loss of horror at being bombed; Nancy insists on good manners from her boys. Jack feels out of place in this regard, at least until it turns out he started the whole plot. He’s an intrusion, like the Doctor and Rose, but in mood as well as time. All this stuff about time agencies and used warship salesmen and ropey spaceship innards works well enough, but it feels thematically at odds with the Doctor’s half of the story, and I think that is what ultimately rubs me wrong about Jack’s part of the episode. It’s not nearly enough of a blemish to lower the rating, though.

Rating: 4 creepy children in gas masks

Favorite dialogue: Doctor: So that’s what you do is it Nancy? Soon as the sirens go, you find a big fat family meal still warm on the table, with everyone down in the air raid shelter, and bingo! Feeding frenzy for the homeless kids of London Town. Puddings for all, as long as the bombs don’t get you.
Nancy: Something wrong with that?
Doctor: Wrong with that? It’s brilliant. I’m not sure if it’s Marxism in action or a West End musical.

I’m not heading straight on to “The Doctor Dances” because: I got Close Encounters for Christmas and I’m gonna watch it.

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2016 reading list

Not as many as I expected to read, since I went on one of my periodic Agatha Christie kicks, but the new books I read in 2016 were:

The Only Pirate At The Party — Lindsey Stirling and her sister

This autobiography is a quick read, taking just a few hundred pages of large type to cover her childhood antics and growth pains, career path, missionary work, battle with an eating disorder, and the joys and trials of her mini-celebrity life. There are pictures too. One of the purposes in writing the book is clearly to encourage others who suffer from disorders of their own. There are also passages aimed at those who want to achieve some daunting career path of their own, as Stirling takes several opportunities to talk about moments when she had to endure the scorn of others and come out stronger for it. If none of this sounds interesting to you, it’s probably not a book for you, but I enjoyed it.
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“Live From Cape Canaveral”: Covering the Space Race, From Sputnik to Today — Jay Barbree

What it says in the title — Barbree was an NBC correspondent from the very first NASA missions up through at least 2007 or so, when this book was published. The highlights include the personalities of the early astronauts and the mischief they got into, a short jaunt with Jimmy Carter, and a look behind the scenes of the Challenger disaster coverage. Unfortunately, with only about 300 pages, unmanned missions scarcely get mentioned at all. Maybe the worst part is when the author confidently predicts that we’d be well on our way back to the Moon by now. Worth a read.
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A Separate Peace — John Knowles

Short novel about boys at a boarding school on the cusp of becoming eligible for the WWII draft. One of them gives in to a moment’s spite and consequences follow. Introspective without being plodding or navel-gazing, the novel delves into the adolescent male psyche very realistically. I enjoyed it.
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The Small Bachelor — P.G. Wodehouse

Not one of his Jeeves books, this is about a lovestricken introvert and his antics with his beloved’s family, a policeman, and a man with very strict ideas about living. The absurdity of the frequency with which all these people run into each other is part of the fun. Quite funny in narration, plot, and characters, and I hope to read more of his novels in the future.
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Ring for Jeeves — P.G. Wodehouse

Shockingly, this one has Jeeves in it (but not Wooster). It also has horse racing and ghosts and is just about as enjoyable as the other one I read. There’s the same pattern of new plot threads appearing and immediately entangling with others to comedic effect, which helps to keep things moving quickly.
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Thirteen Detectives — G.K. Chesterton

A collection of detective stories by Chesterton. The preface makes it clear that Chesterton had Ideas about what makes a proper detective story, and in that context, some of these stories felt more like demonstrations or exercises than yarns. Quite a different feel from, say, Agatha Christie or Doyle. But they are inventive, amusing, and very readable. I think my favorite was “The Hole in the Wall” for its atmosphere, but special mention to “The Donnington Affair”, where Chesterton provides the solution to another author’s setup so thoroughly that the reader is left without any doubt that this must have been what the original author meant all along. It was also interesting to come across a story that possibly was the source material for one of Christie’s books.

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nuWho 1×08: Father’s Day

We open with a flashback to Rose’s childhood. Jackie is telling her about how wonderful Rose’s father, Pete, was, and how he would have liked to have seen her. Little Rose is listening seriously, as children will do . . . for maybe forty seconds . . . before they start fixating on some minor detail or return to playing Pokemon. Seriously, though, this adds a bit to the history of the bond between Jackie and Rose.

Back in the present day, Rose convinces the Doctor to take her to see her father. The Doctor asks if she’s up to it emotionally, then cheerfully starts the TARDIS off with the warning to be careful what she wishes for.

They end up at Rose’s parents’ wedding, where Pete steps in it by forgetting his bride’s middle name. Jackie and Rose both give him the kind of look you don’t want a woman giving you. The Doctor thinks it’s funny, while Rose protests that “I thought he’d be taller.” Fitting, because throughout the episode, Peter Allan Tyler is going to repeatedly come up short in Rose’s estimation.

We return to the flashback to find Jackie is now reminiscing about Pete’s death. Someone ran him over and left him to die alone. Guess where we’re headed next.

They step out into 1987, home to Margaret Thatcher, Sylvester McCoy, and Wesley Crusher. One out of three isn’t bad in baseball. Rose again comments that everything seems so normal for the day her father dies. She narrates events as Pete gets out of his car with a vahhz, only to get rammed by the Murder Car. The Doctor squeezes her hand and tells her to run to Pete, but caught in the shock of the moment, Rose can’t do it. So, now behind a building out of sight, she asks the Doctor if she can try again.

The Doctor cautions Rose against attracting their previous selves’ attention — wait until our old selves leave before you run out there — and it’s notable that he takes it for granted that she understands. Much as when he asked earlier if she’d be all right seeing her father die, the Doctor is treating Rose as very nearly a peer, someone he doesn’t need to get all camera-zoom and emphatic with. In short, the Doctor now trusts Rose.

The deadly car turns the corner, and Rose breaks. She rushes out of hiding — crossing in front of their old selves, no less — and saves the vase, and also incidentally her father. The old D&R look at each other in bewilderment and vanish into nothingness.

Rose tells her father her name, clearly expecting him to recognize it, but naturally he doesn’t recognize her as the baby he has at home. Rose invites herself along to the wedding Pete’s attending, while the Doctor glares and the camera switches to a red, distorted overhead shot of London with discordant noises.

Pete takes them back home and prattles about milk. The Doctor nods and smiles politely while Rose enjoys every word out of Pete’s mouth. Left alone, the Doctor crosses his arms and glares at Rose, who puts her best reality-ignoring shields up and chatters satisfiedly about Pete’s trophies being out on display instead of tucked in the attic.

If a time traveler looks at you like this, run. Just run.

It’s noteworthy that Pete juuust missed out on advancing to the next tier of the bowling tournament. Pete does not look good for most of this episode. He hits on Rose while being married, he blusters, his inventions are dubious, he argues with his wife. The obvious view to come away with is that Pete may have had his quirks, but overall he was nobody special, maybe even a loser who struggled through life doing odd jobs. Jackie was simply cherry-picking her memories and not telling little Rose about all his faults, whether because she didn’t want Rose to think her father was a loser or because she didn’t want to face them herself. But between this, Pete’s intuition, and his decision at the end, maybe the intention was that Pete simply had hard luck and a weak character. Maybe there was something there, past the weaknesses, something substantial and good, that never found its place in the world.

Anyway, Rose finally pays attention to the Doctor’s glare and he spits out that she’s “just another stupid ape”, like Adam and (previously) Mickey. Rose protests that saving her dad was safe, that one person couldn’t make all that much difference. The Doctor replies that one single living person makes all the difference in the world. He changes history, yes, but he has the experience and knowledge to know what is safe to change and what is not. Rose, inexplicably, thinks the Doctor is jealous of Pete getting Rose’s attention, and the Doctor takes his TARDIS key back and leaves in a mutual huff. He finds that the TARDIS greenscreen has been deactivated and now it’s just the empty prop.

Meanwhile, whatever is viewing London in Red Insectoid Vision starts descending on people and making them drop whatever they’re holding. This could have come across as unintentionally hilarious, I’m just saying.

As they’re driving to the wedding, Rose tells Pete that Jackie calls him “the most fantastic man in the world”. Pete brushes that off with “Must be a different Jackie then.” Rose’s FutureFone beeps, and she pulls it out to hear the first message ever sent by telephone. Presumably, history has changed backwards so that no other message is allowed to be transmitted telephonically. As they turn a corner, the Murder Car following them keeps going and vanishes. Then it tries to ram them head-on as they pull up in front of the church. Then Jackie tells Pete off and accuses Rose of being “another” of Pete’s too-friendly friends, but the biggest shock for Rose is that Jackie’s hair is in curls. Jackie rails against all the “rubbish” that Pete brings home and denounces him as a failure. Poor Rose finally yells at them to behave.

A little boy who suddenly finds himself alone in a playground runs past them into the church, yelling about aliens. Then an alien runs up to Rose, yelling at her to get in the church herself. Rose smiles fondly when she sees it’s the Doctor, but then a monster bat with a mouth for a stomach appears out of thin air, and it and its buddies start squishy-crunching everybody in sight. You know it’s serious when the monsters are confident enough to stop sneaking around. Everyone bundles into the sanctuary of the church, where there is a large stained-glass window of Jesus on the cross that totally isn’t foreshadowing anything.

The Doctor covers the question of “why don’t they just teleport inside?” by saying that the church is old and therefore strong. I guess they time-travel to get around obstacles by going to a point in time when the obstacle didn’t exist? Maybe? What happens if that window was just installed last month? He relishes shouting Jackie down, then says that the scary bat things are sterilizing a wound in time, and nothing in the universe can hurt them. The Murder Car goes by, and when Pete asks about it, the Doctor tells him to pay it no mind. I have to think the Doctor knows that Pete getting himself properly killed might set things straight, but, even in this situation and as dark as this incarnation can get, he isn’t going to tell Pete to give himself up.

Pete has pieced enough together to make the leap to confront Rose as his daughter, and they get to know each other more frankly. Meanwhile, the Doctor reassures the bride and groom that they are important, that he’ll do his best to save their lives, and comments that he’s never lived a life quite like theirs. This could have been just filler, but wound up reinforcing the idea of “common” lives being valuable. Maybe in another episode, the Doctor could have told Pete to buck up and get himself killed, but not this one. Well, he probably wouldn’t say that to the father of any of his companions in any episode, but you know what I’m getting at.

The Doctor moves on to telling baby Rose that she mustn’t destroy the world. Whether he can speak Baby yet is uncertain, but Baby Rose just looks at him frightened. He warns grown-up Rose not to touch Baby Rose because that would be a “paradox”. Presumably that’s the Human concept that gets nearest whatever the Time Lord understanding is, because I can touch myself right now and that doesn’t create a paradox. The Doctor didn’t warn Rose not to breathe on her second try earlier, because that would change the air currents around her earlier self and create a paradox. I’d rather he just said something about an energy discharge if a person overlaps herself in time and space, if this has to be a plot point. I’m pretty sure this rule isn’t adhered to in the future anyway.

The Doctor and Rose start arguing again, but the Doctor apologizes (and Rose soon follows suit). He has no idea what to do: aside from a few buildings here and there, all of humanity has been wiped out by now. It’s a grim moment, made grimmer by the reminder that the Time Lords are wiped out too. Fortunately the TARDIS key is discovered to be glowing, so the Doctor takes the pulpit (inevitably) and tells everyone that he can use the shiny thing to regain access to his time machine and everyone will be saved from the huge bat monsters. The groom’s father’s portable phone comes in now as a power source, having served a previous purpose by letting the Doctor listen in on A.G. Bell’s first phone call. I approve of plot devices that don’t look like plot devices.

Rose tries to invent a future life for Pete’s pleasure. If I had to guess, she’s drawing on what she wanted as a child to have from her father. Saturday picnics are a bit specific, and she stresses the “being there to be relied upon” thing. Pete simply says that he isn’t who Rose describes. He catches on that he should be dead, but that Rose saved his life and wrecked reality and has been trying to hide it from him. “I’m so useless I can’t even die properly”, he says bitterly. Rose insists she’s to blame, but he responds, “I’m your dad. It’s my job for it to be my fault.” That’s leadership quality right there. Unfortunately, Jackie overhears, events eventuate, and baby Rose ends up in Rose’s arms (why did Pete put her there? baby Rose’s hair and eyes haven’t even changed yet) just long enough to allow a monster to make its entrance. The Doctor gets himself eaten up, and the monster promptly collides with the materializing TARDIS. Both disappear, leaving the key behind. Despite the Doctor having warned everyone not to touch it, Rose picks the key up and finds it cold.

The Doctor had said his fix would keep Pete alive. With that hope gone, Pete now sees there’s nothing left but for him to get run over. He has a last touching word with Rose and Jackie, this time agreeing with Rose’s belief that he would have been there for her. Pete then grabs the innocent vase and heads out, to be Rose’s dad, to be one ordinary man who makes all the difference in the world, to have a death that isn’t useless. The monsters disappear, humanity reappears, and Rose gets to be with her father at the end after all. There’s a flashback with Jackie narrating the revised events, to give the viewers a chance to get all those bits of dust out of their eyes before the next episode’s preview.

One is reminded of the bit in “Vincent and the Doctor” about a life being a heap of good things and a heap of bad things. Rose adds to her father’s heap of good things, even if the opportunity here came about through a moment of foolishness.

Rating: 3 time-fixing monster bat freaks

Favorite dialogue: Rose: But it’s not like I’ve changed history. Not much. […]
The Doctor: Rose, there’s a man alive in the world who wasn’t alive before. An ordinary man. That’s the most important thing in Creation.

Useless Fact: It turns out that the “paradox” is, in fact, supposed to be a release of energy. Okay then.

Fun Fact: This was KJ’s first modern Who episode, she was hooked, and so I started watching because she was, and now here we are.

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The bleeding has lessened

So last week the Blues dropped out of the playoffs with a loss to the Sharks. It was an ugly final score, 5-2, in a conference finals that had a lot of ugly final scores. It was the end of a chance for the Blues to go to the Stanley Cup finals for the first time since 1970. The Blues did win a couple of games, which is nice, but as any number of teams will tell you, sometimes you only get that one season where everything truly comes together, and then you never quite recapture the magic.

It hurts. But it doesn’t hurt as much as it might. You see, the Blues lost because they were outplayed. They lost because Brian Elliott came back to earth, because the offense laid some eggs. And those zeroes in Games 2 and 3 are embarrassing. Giving up 11 goals in the last two games is embarrassing.

But that’s hockey. That’s hockey that can happen to any team.

I grew up during the ’90s listening to the Cardinals and Blues on the radio and watching them on TV. As a child living in that naive bubble where of course your favorite team is supposed to be winning all the time, the Cardinals were frustrating. They had all these good/great players (some of which doubtless seemed “good” only because of the familiarity of their names) and yet they spent much of the decade struggling to get away from the .500 mark. Adults who had followed baseball for longer probably had more realistic expectations than I did.

The Blues, though, they were supposed to be contenders in legitimate pursuit of the Cup, putting up good records back when .500 meant you were just mediocre and not abysmal.

But something would always happen. Either the Blues would shoot themselves in the foot, or some ridiculous event would hit them. The Blues poached Mike Keenan away from the Rangers, and the NHL came down on them harshly. So many hopeful playoff runs stopped early by the Red Wings (who were generally the best team in either conference), or occasionally the Avalanche. One playoff run that was cut short when Nick Kyprieos ran over Grant Fuhr right there in the crease. The year that the Blues won the President’s Cup with the best regular season record, and St. Louisans, normally intelligent about sports, took a first-round win for granted, only for the Sharks to exploit Chris Pronger’s youth and win in seven games. The year I’m pretty sure we were leading the series against Vancouver, only for half the Blues to suddenly come down with the flu. Always, always, a feeling that we weren’t being allowed to see our full potential.

About this time the Blues started running a series of clever ad campaigns. One year it was a ’50s theme with a man with a “#1” foam hand. But the one that’s stuck was “Do you bleed blue?” (which has transformed into “We all bleed blue” or the like). To which the correct answer is: Yes, I proudly bleed blue, but I would like for the bleeding to stop already, and also that mosquito billboard needs to go away.

But this year something was different. The NHL again rigged things so that we had to start the playoffs against the Blackhawks again this year. Instead of rolling over, or folding in the pinch, the Blues responded, taking out Chicago and showing the rest of the league up in the process. Next the Dallas Stars. The Blues struggled a bit, never quite shaking the Blues tendency to choke, but they won out in the end. And then the Sharks. The Blues won a couple of games, but were unable to prevent the Sharks from winning four. As I said at the start, I’m not happy about the loss. But it’s a breath of fresh air to lose because the Blues happened to meet a team who simply outplayed them, rather than because “Oh, we always lose to them” or because of some freak injury or illness or because the NHL docked them five goals and a draft pick for skating the wrong way around the ice during warmups.

It gives me hope for the future. And that may turn out to be some long-term cruelty as we win the President’s Cup the next five years running and the NHL just matches us up with whoever has a hot streak at the moment. But for now, the sense that some sort of curse has lifted feels good.

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Bats vs. Supes: The List Also Rises

Unperturbed by thoughts of “Shouldn’t I wait until I’ve seen it?”, it’s . . .

The Top Eight Unexpected Events in Batman vs. Superman

8. The appearance of an actual character named Dawn, hailing from Justice, Michigan, who shows up in a news interview for about two seconds and is never heard of again.

7. Every time that guy who interrupts Bruce and Clark in the trailer shows up without getting punched in the face.

6. Superman gives Jimmy Olsen an Apple Watch to contact him with. (Honorable mention: the discovery that the new Batmobile is made by Honda.)

5. Millions of nerds completely fail to have an aneurysm at the sight of Ben Affleck as Batman. Wait, no, I saw that coming.

5. This version of Bruce Wayne explains that he chose his theme because he went to the Halloween store on November 3rd, and the choices were down to “bat” or “sexy ladybug”.

4. When Metropolis is destroyed again, its residents actually take the hint and move out to other cities that won’t be threatened by supervillains and natural disasters five times a year.

3. Superman and Batman slug it out over whether Black Widow or Pepper Potts is hotter, but stop fighting because they discover they both enjoy vacationing at Martha’s Vineyard.

2. Our first sight of stately Wayne Manor, revealing that because of the economy, it’s been downgraded to cozy Wayne half-of-a-Duplex.

1. Despite its title, most of the movie follows Lois Lane vs. The High-Pressure Toaster Salesman Of Doom.

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2500 House Rules

Because we couldn’t seem to find a source online that sets out the rules the way we play it. 2500 is a fun card game, and fairly easy to play once you’ve gone through a hand or two. I recommend at least three players, but there’s no reason two wouldn’t work.

Preparation: You need two standard 52-card decks. Ideally the backs will match, but if they don’t it’s no big deal. Remove all the twos and any jokers floating around in there, then shuffle the rest together. You’ll also want a means of keeping score, and possibly a calculator.

Dealing: The dealer begins by dealing a single face-up card to the person to his left. The value of this card determines how many total cards that person will get. Jacks are worth 11, Queens 12, Kings 13, Aces 14. All other cards are worth face value. The dealer then deals facedown cards until the total is reached. Repeat with all other players until reaching the dealer. The face-up card that the dealer is dealt determines what cards will be wild. E.g., if the dealer gets a King, then Kings are wild. This wild card is left on the table, face up, in front of the dealer for everyone’s reference. The deal ends by putting a single card face-up in the discard pile.

Play: Play starts to the dealer’s left and goes around clockwise. Players try to form three-of-a-kind or better, using at most one wild card to do so. The hand ends when one player runs out of cards, unless this happens during the first round, in which case everyone afterwards gets a chance to play.

  • At the start of a turn, a player must either draw a card from the top of the deck, or draw from the discard pile. To draw from the discard pile, the top discard must allow the player to form a natural three-of-a-kind set (“natural” = “no wilds involved”) with the cards in her hand. To put another way, the player’s hand must already contain at least two of the value on the top of the discard pile. When drawing from the discard pile, the player may take any number of cards less than or equal to the value of the top discard. The player must announce the number of cards she wants before she starts drawing. The three-of-a-kind thus formed must immediately be put down.
  • During her own turn, the player may put down any three-of-a-kinds or better that she holds. A player’s first three-of-a-kind set must be natural, and cannot be wilds. Once she has at least one of those down, she may also put down more sets, add to those she already has down, put down single wilds to be built upon later, or play on others’ down cards (if someone already has three 5s down, for example, she can put any 5s she has down in front of herself). She may also keep any such cards in her hand if she chooses.
  • At the end of her turn, if she has any cards still in her hand, the player discards a card from her hand. The dealer is not allowed to discard the wild initially dealt to himself.

Scoring: At the end of the hand, each player’s score increases for each down card and decreases for each card still in his or her hand. Wilds count for 100 points, aces count for 100, other face cards count for 10, other numbered cards count for 5. Wild aces still count for 100. It is indeed possible to have a negative score. If the dealer never made a three-of-a-kind, the wild card down in front of him counts against him.

Winning: First to make 2500 points wins. In case several make it in the same hand, the highest score wins.

Starting strategy: Generally, you will prefer to get a large hand, as you stand a good chance of putting down some cards on your first hand or two, and thereby scoring any wilds you might have. Dealing yourself a 3 or 4 tends to lead to an ugly round. Pay attention to what others are discarding, and play accordingly, discarding what the next person doesn’t seem to want, while knowing exactly how many cards you want to pick up, should you get the chance. Hanging on to aces or wilds while you wait for your first three-of-a-kind is a high-risk, high-reward tactic, and should be treated as such: if the risk gets too great compared to the reward, consider getting rid of those huge cards.

As you get more experienced, you might want to bluff occasionally, discarding from a three-of-a-kind in your hand so that the player on your right will discard that value, allowing you to pick up a lot of useful cards from the discard. You may also want to avoid adding the same value to the discard pile that everyone else is dumping, in case someone picks up an ace and snags the lot.

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