Friday, 30 March 2018
The Doctor once said, actually quite recently, every Christmas is last Christmas. I think every Era is also last Era. Can it really be that this fantastic period in Who is is now just that; history?
Ah well, we will always have Mondas...
Saturday, 17 March 2018
I used to pour over this cover. This distant field of snow with a red sky and a sun setting, with straining huskies pulling an intrepid traveler. I used to wonder if they were traveling towards something or fleeing from something. There were small photos of the original line up and band members on the rear sleeve and lyrics too. more than I was used to seeing on an album sleeve or even the inner sleeve. They struck me as young professors or scientists who had learned to make music and I could not imagine them ever appearing on Top Of The Pops. They did off course, with a different line up. And I thought they looked like a Jim Steranko drawing had come to life. particularly Phil Oakie who looked like Lady Hydra. The cover design for the album made for one of the best home made tee shirts I have ever owned. And I do not own many tee shirts...
I'm a gentleman, I am..
The Bitch is dead. Long live The Bitch.
Wednesday, 14 March 2018
Saturday, 10 March 2018
Missy has proved ,for me, to be one of the best things about Peter Capaldi's time in The Tardis. that is probably all down to Michelle Gomez's performance in the role. She stole my heart, stuck a big hook through it and used it for shark bait. Speaking of stealing, she was also the most riveting thing about the recent two part finale, when it really should have been Mister Capaldi himself. Missy's inner conflict when staring into the face of the man she was and trying not to acknowledge the yearning despair in the eyes of The Doctor. It was, to co-opt a phrase, a master class performance.
Yet I also have not forgot I was a bit disapointed when Missy' identity was actually revealed. I had hoped she would turn out to be Romanna. One of The Doctor's oldest and dearest and dearest friends, twisted and corrupted by the events of the Time War. Such was the potency of Michelle Gomez' in the role that I came around before too long. Mad, bad and dangerous to know, she was all this and more,Witty, brilliant and at times savagely and thoughtfully cruel.
There are six stories here, written by some of the most talented voices in the extended Doctor Who universe. We begin with a story set shortly after her regeneration and end on board that huge Mondassian colony ship sticking out of the black hole. Each writer brings something fantastic to the table, all the while retaining streaks of dark humor that are Missy' signature tune. In these stories she does perhaps get away with levels of beastliness that may have proved too much for transmission on Saturday night telly. But not so extreme that she no longer felt like the character we were getting to know so much better just as she died all alone.
I will admit one of the stories stood out for me but I wont say which one. it is all so subjective anyway, we may all be looking at the same thing but not feeling the same way about it. I would not like to take away from such a fine collection wrapped up in such a fine cover (A lee Binding cover design. Effortlessly lovely.)
Now how about a Michelle Gomez audio version....
You know, I think I finally understand what Neo meant when he said "There is no spoon."
James Goss has on more than one occasion proved that he is the expert medium in channeling the the wit and charm and imagination of our lost genius Mister Adams. With his amazing adaptions of City Of Death and The Pirate Planet. Novelizations of long ago tales minus the little Target logo on their spines. Mind you, as good as most of those novelizations were, they never felt as fun and entertaining as the treats Mister Goss has laid before our Who hungry eyes. And he has only just gone and done it again. Delivering an absolute gem for anyone with wit enough to buy it for their collections.
Back in the day I did not immediately warm to the Time Lady who was so brazen as to take the place of my beloved Leela and by the time I had she regenerated. To me Mary Tamm seemed all f Scott Fitzgerald High Society and Lalla Ward was all Lewis Carroll Winter Tide Ball. Both classy, both sophisticated, and a bit snooty for my Bohemian hero. Yet each of them proved themselves endearingly warm and witty and gracious foils to their nutty companion, following this penniless genius chum to some of the most dangerous places in space and time. The text is full of the most endearing insights into why The Doctor and Romanna do the things they do but all without taking the Who out of Doctor Who. It never makes the cardinal mistake of diminishing things by explaining them away. And I should recognise a "cardinal mistake" as I was raised a Catholic. I know what a cardinal is and I am never done making mistakes. Besides, Big Finish have allowed through their stories to blossom wonderfully in ways they never had the opportunity to do on screen, just listen to The Auntie Matter , the story which kicked off the one season of stories Mary Tamm did for Big Finish, and immediately find yourself converted to the audio medium.
And just when you think you have reached the end of the book, all too soon, James Goss share appendex x 3 with us. The third of which rewards the reader with a window onto a path not taken. Bringing back to life an old friend for one brief but delightful chapter.
There is a lovely scene in Shada during which The Doctor pins a medal on a brightly beaming Romanna, right on her pinafore. a reward and a recognition of her sheer Romannaness. Now I am not sure if James Goss would ever be inclined to wear a pinafore but should he ever care to I would gladly pin a medal on him. For demonstrating his sheer Gossness time and again. Giving me some lovely books to read and allowing me to spend time with some old chums I never thought to see again.
James Goss I salute you.
That mild pricking sensation you may be experiencing is just me pinning a medal on you. Time and circumstance may some day force you to sell that medal down Cash Converters but never forget the reason why you were given it in the first place.
For daring do and diddling don't. So to speak.
I have an old ventriloquist doll in one of my upper rooms. He sits flumped atop a pile of old vinyl like a guardian on vigil for times past. He is called Charlie and he lost a hand some time in the past. Somewhere there is a tiny little hand crawling its way back to the body it was lost from..
This is an old British horror movie made in 1964. It is a story told in a world of adults , smokey bar rooms and concert venues. Whatever special effects that are within the movie are off a practicle kind. All done in front of the cameras with nothing added afterwards. It has at times an almost squalid quality mostly projected in the mean spirited and selfish demands of the Svengali. His imperative is whatever he wants whatever the cost to others for he has himself another doll in need of a host to drive it.
The Devil is not in the doll. The Devil is in the wretched details.
It is a fantastic book. Beautifully written with more going on per chapter than most epics in literature have going on. Its incredibly vivid writing, wringing emotion from scientific uncertainty. Its bloody hard enough to find someone to love only to then lose them in a linear maelstrom. Heartbreaking.
Time Was works on so many levels including the meta levels of actual searching going on within its pages. Ben searches for Ben and someone, will not say who, searches for them both, its gripping, while we observe all, searching for a place where all the disparate threads will weave together.
Started reading it again as soon as I finished it.
That is the way time works, does it not?