#and also setting aside what an achingly beautiful line of dialogue that is

[zishuge]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook (2023) | Ep. 5

[ejaydoeshisbest]

Third World Romance (2023)

Typing a quick review of “Third World Romance” before I get back to cooking. (Some Spoilers Below)

Aside from the title, the first few scenes already encapsulated what this movie was about. It is a cute love story blooming through the daily struggles of the ordinary low-wage Filipino worker.

A young woman, Britney, makes copies of her resume and then immediately runs to the spot where the government is handing out “ayuda” or government aid. There, she meets her romantic interest, Alvin, waiting in line for sacks of rice, clothes, and canned goods. Upon realizing that there was a "cutoff" for the ayuda, she dragged him around with her to follow the van containing those simple treasures and nabbed them. Alvin protests at the thought of stealing, but Britney reassures him that it isn't stealing if it is intended to be handed out to the people, anyway.

Throughout their little meet-cute adventure, they banter and flirt with each other in a way that perfectly emulates how the average working-class Filipinos talk; direct, sometimes crass, bordering on bullying rather than softly teasing. Very "kalye". Things would grow more romantic as their relationship deepened, it was nice to see that until the very end, they never lost that dynamic.

It’s unlike the polished script of several highly-produced mainstream movies full of eccentric gestures and perfumed dialogues. The lines of "Third World Romance" may be melodramatic in certain emotionally-charged scenes in the story--especially during the climax--but it is still honest. The wit is something that hits my heart and tickles my bones because of its relatability. I chuckled plenty during moments when the humor of this film bounced off each character. It's the kind of humor that is achingly familiar to you if you grew up in the streets. The words were delivered in pretty much the same way as how my friends and I tease each other under the very same blinking streetlights and passing bridges over polluted, plastic-crammed dark waters at dusk.

The setting, too, is far from the usual setting of rom-coms. Instead of dates inside museums, sparkling beaches, and polished marbled floors, we get long talks sitting on tin roofs of the slums, looking at the buildings that make up the metro. The couple don’t even go inside the expensive Korean buffet restaurant they’ve been eyeing, instead using their imagination to mimic the experience. The shots veer away from the beauty of the metro and instead ground the viewers on its squalor. We follow the characters through the narrow alleyways of the shady slums, passing broken bottles and stray animals. We stay with them under dimly lit fluorescent grocery lights and feel their sadness as they sink on yellowed tiles, their backs slumped against chipped cupboards.

However, the view of the metro automatically made me remember my carefree wistful years. My college nights were always like that; looking beyond my dorm room window and sinking into the delightful feeling that I was a young, independent, thriving student in the metro. I loved hearing the sounds of distant sirens and honks in an otherwise still night and stationary skyscrapers. Late-night cravings were going down to the nearest 24/7 convenience store and buying instant noodles with a nice cold soda.

The story also shows us the constant character traits of the common struggling Filipino set in an impoverished setting. Resourcefulness. Tenacity. Generosity amid corruption. Kindness. Dedication. Perseverance. Endurance. “Pagmamalasakit sa kapwa”. The movie doesn’t romanticize poverty—in fact, it depicts the frustrations and sacrifices people make as they climb their way upward in a society run by corrupt government officials. The story simply shows how some Filipinos deal with all that.

It is worthwhile mentioning that Britney, the leading woman, played by Charlie Dizon, has a “makibaka” pic saved as her cellphone’s home screen. Or I think it was. It briefly flashed on the screen at the start of the film. This image represents an idea of “people coming together for a change” seen in rallies organized by activists. It gives us a clue to her character trait throughout the story: Britney’s fighting spirit often leads her into trouble but also fuels her bravery and determination whenever problems target her loved ones. She is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure her mother gets home safely from abroad and still has plenty more spirit left to dream of giving her a nice life. She knows what her rights are and isn’t shy about voicing her opinions, especially before the climax of the film.

This also brings an awareness to the public of worker’s rights and of unjust labor practices, as well as inspiring people to voice their opinions especially when those in power abuse their position, and not just stand by and allow the abuse to happen. Nothing will change if no one acts.

There was one small scene that stood out to me because it shows a perfect example of that: Britney stated plainly that it isn’t part of her job description to both be a cashier and a bagger because those two positions are separate and are therefore paid separately. And then her coworker reacts to that poorly, eyebrows raised and scoffing at Britney and discarding her as “tamad” (lazy) and “maarte” (diva). For so long, a negative trait of some typical Filipino workers is to keep their heads down and do what is asked of them by their higher-ups, and this meekness has cost them their dignity, their time, and their effort. And what do they get in return? Nothing but low wages and a smile from their bosses. Their main concern is to keep the peace of office politics and remain employed as their bosses abuse them, comforted by the fact that they won't so much utter a complaint. That is until they gather and unite in strength through numbers. Again, if we let negative practices happen, they will never stop, and we will kiss the shiny boots of our superiors.

But Britney's fighting spirit is challenged at the climax of the story when we find out that her mother has sunk into deep debt, so she has no choice but to swallow her pride and accept double shifts with half the pay, plus is unable to defend Alvin when the boss fired him instead of taking accountability.

Speaking of her partner, Alvin, played by Carlo Aquino, is the perfect balance to her quirky, fiery temper. Alvin is cool, collected, kind, and is also no stranger to brutal work. He has been working since he was a kid and never stopped since.

We see Alvin’s playful nature quell Britney’s temper and unlock her softer, more caring side. He does everything for her; from simple things like taking her out to eat and helping her adjust to her new job to major events that propel the story forward, such as getting her hired at the grocery store where he works in the first place and helping her mom get back home to the Philippines when she was abandoned by her employers abroad. He is a man of his word: promising in one sweet moment that he will “try his best to make Britney happy.” By the end, Britney promises in turn to “try her best to fight for him."

Their promises to one another solidify their character growth in the movie; where one promises to make the other happy, the other swears to fight for their love. It is these qualities that are also common in healthy partnerships, especially in the everyday Pinoy. No matter what happens, through the struggles caused by those in power who are incompetent and apathetic, we could still have a chance of rising above as long as we love and fight for each other, and do our best every day.

[timeflies1007-blog]

Doctor Who Reviews by a Female Doctor, Season 6, p. 2

The Doctor’s Wife: “Bigger on the inside” has been a feature of the TARDIS since the show began, but in this gorgeous episode Neil Gaiman manages to make it look like the show’s creators invented the concept with this story in mind. A love story between a man and a time-space machine has plenty of potential to go awry, but it’s achingly beautiful here, and it brings out the very best in Smith’s Doctor.

           I’m not especially enamored of the planet that the Doctor, Amy, and Rory land on, or of House as a villain, because disembodied voices don’t make for great antagonists even when they make cool special effects happen on the TARDIS. (I do like the name, though—it’s appropriate to have a villain named House in an episode that features an attack on the Doctor’s home.) While the eerie atmosphere is very nicely done, both on the planet itself and on the Ponds’ frightening dash through the TARDIS, when thinking back on this episode I mostly forget everything that isn’t centered on the Doctor and the TARDIS in human form.

I thought at first that the human embodiment of the TARDIS was doing a little bit too much of a Helena Bonham Carter impression, but I eventually find Suranne Jones’s performance to be quite distinctive and entirely appropriate for the character she is playing. Her speech patterns look like nonsense at first, but they’re very carefully ordered nonsense, and they proceed according to the kind of logic that a time machine might plausibly have. I can completely believe that tenses would be enormously difficult for someone who spends most of her existence shuttling back and forth across time, and watching her trying to figure out the right expression (“You’re going to steal me. No, you have stolen me. You are stealing me”) is possibly the most enjoyable sequence of verb conjugation ever on television. It’s tremendous fun watching the Doctor and the TARDIS go back and forth in their not-quite-lining-up dialogue for a while, but their interaction gets much more emotional as soon as they start to discuss the origins of their relationship: “Borrowing implies the intention to return the thing that was taken. What makes you think I would ever give you back?” says the TARDIS. They continue to have an adorably quirky exchange of perspectives on their long friendship, including the information that the Doctor has been pushing the TARDIS doors open for hundreds of years in spite of the “Pull to Open” sign. As entertaining as this is, her assertion that she “always took [him] where [he] needed to go” is the heart of their dialogue, and it’s true—as crazy as their adventures have been, she’s always brought him to the right places.

           As good as much of the episode is, it’s the absolutely transcendent ending that stays with me. While I don’t love House as a villain, he brings out the Doctor’s anger to a fascinating degree, and the Doctor’s response to House’s boast of killing hundreds of Time Lords (“Fear me, I’ve killed all of them”) is quietly chilling. The TARDIS’s destruction of House is beautifully done, and Gaiman’s script deftly makes the notion of “bigger on the inside,” function not as a description of physical space but as a description of a soul. Her definition of “alive” as something that is “sad when it’s over” already turns the scene into one of the Doctor’s most emotional exchanges ever, and then the scene manages to exceed even those heights as she gives the Doctor a tearful final hello. I think one could make a pretty strong argument that “I just wanted to say…hello” is the best individual line in the 50+ year history of the show; it encapsulates so perfectly both the quirkiness of the Doctor’s relationship with his time machine and the emotional ramifications of personal connections that don’t quite occur in the expected order. The conversations between the Doctor and the TARDIS have proceeded outside of any discernible order for the entire episode, so of course, once they have to part, their conversation concludes with its beginning. It’s not quite the last line, though, because if you listen very carefully, you can hear an “I love you” from the TARDIS, just as she fades away.

           The Doctor’s slight shift of his jaw right after she disappears is possibly the saddest he has ever looked, but the episode ends on a much more joyful note, as the Doctor tends to the TARDIS’s newly-restored machine form. (He also creates a new bedroom for Amy and Rory, this time without bunk beds, in spite of his insistence on the coolness of “a bed with a ladder!”) I completely believe his assertion that his attachment to the TARDIS, long after everyone else is gone, is “the best thing there is,” and the TARDIS gives an awfully cute little wobble when he does something with a wire. He looks sad for a moment as he wonders whether or not the TARDIS can hear him, but then she moves a lever on her own and his rush of joy as he whirls around the controls is the perfect ending to an absolutely glorious episode. A+

The Rebel Flesh: The title of the second part of this story is appropriate for the tale as a whole, as its characters almost seem like believable people. I sort of like Cleaves, Jimmy, and the rest of the group, but they never quite gel into completely convincing human beings. It is a huge improvement from the author’s first episode, “Fear Her,” but his writing has basically risen from bad to okay-ish.

The beginning of the episode is promising. I quite like the setting—the combination of the old monastery building, the Dusty Springfield record, and the futuristic technology is oddly appealing. The Flesh is introduced well, in an intriguing scene that sees a character casually grousing while being melted with acid before revealing that the dead body was a Flesh avatar. The use of the Flesh to carry out dangerous missions establishes an interesting set of ethical questions about what constitutes life, and the electrical storm allows these questions to come to the forefront in a meaningful way. The feelings of the Flesh creatures are also interestingly conveyed, particularly in a monologue that sees Jennifer describing her memories of an imagined second self during a childhood catastrophe; it’s a particularly intriguing choice because it sets up the character’s belief in multiple selves as existing even before the electrical storm made this a physical possibility. I don’t really like the Flesh, though, in part because the visual is just so grotesque that it distracts from my enjoyment. The image of Jennifer’s head at the end of a serpent-like neck is particularly disturbing, but there are a lot of moments in which I start to think “ooh, this is interesting!” and then my brain switches over to “nope, they look like yogurt on legs.” I get that this is a show about monsters, and they’re often slimy and unpleasant, but the sight of Flesh extending as the bodies destabilize just comes across as such a poorly-done special effect that I have trouble separating my interest in the concept from my irritation at how silly it looks. It’s an entertaining episode, but one that never feels very high stakes, with the exception of the cliffhanger about having a Flesh Doctor. Other than the weird visuals, there isn’t much to dislike here, but I don’t find it especially memorable. B-/C+

The Almost People: This is maybe a slight step up from part one, but it still never reaches the concept’s potential. I like having two Doctors around, and the Flesh people really do bring about some interesting ethical questions, but there isn’t a particularly imaginative response to those questions. The attention to doppelgangers is interesting as a component of the seasonal arc; you can see the wheels turning in Amy’s head as she remembers the events of “The Impossible Astronaut” and realizes the possibilities inherent in having someone who looks like the Doctor but isn’t the Doctor. The issue of a doppelganger’s humanity is resolved simplistically, though, because the end of the episode leaves us with just one surviving member of each human/doppelganger pairing. I was confused, at first, about why the Doctor was all right with destroying Amy’s flesh avatar after insisting on the humanity of the others throughout the episode, but if I’m understanding it correctly, the electric shock that galvanized the flesh avatars during the storm created a more permanent identity for those creatures, and since Amy was in a different point in the monastery, I don’t think that she got quite the same result. (This would definitely have benefited from greater clarity.) In the end, the response to the question of whether or not the Flesh counted as human boils down to, “I guess so,” which doesn’t give us a memorable resolution.

The minor characters continue to be interesting-ish without being quite as good as I want them to be, and the weird visuals put me off as much as they did in the last episode. (I do still like the monastery, though.) The interaction between the real Doctor and the Flesh Doctor is stronger than their interactions with the rest of the ensemble, but even this is not the best version of the multiple Doctors concept. The most noteworthy thing about this episode is the end, in which we discover that Amy has been a Flesh avatar for the whole season, and her real body has been held captive by Madame Kovarian and is about to give birth. The specifics of the process by which a human consciousness makes the flesh move are a bit unclear to me—the characters throughout the episode have seemed to be conscious of the fact that they are flesh avatars, but she doesn’t seem to be. That aside, it is a genuinely shocking development that I didn’t expect at all, and it works better for me than the sudden death of Rory did as last year’s mid-season twist. After an episode about the same memories being attached to two bodies, it is especially interesting to realize that Amy has spent this entire half-season being detached from her own body, existing as a sort-of embodied, sort-of disembodied avatar. The episode leaves us an in intriguing spot, but it doesn’t do anything remarkable on the way there. B-/C+

A Good Man Goes to War: Much of this episode feels like we might be in the wrong story. The Doctor’s dialogue, the violence, even the physical appearance seems more like a Star Wars-esque saga than the kind of story that we’ve come to expect from this show. This has a lot of potential to be off-putting, and I would say that there are moments when it is, but the episode is careful to set up exactly why this is happening, and to create consequences that are precisely tied to the behavior of the characters. The episode also manages to wring as much fun as possible out of this rather unusual tone; there is an exuberance at work here that holds the episode together even when some rather questionable things occur.  

           This episode is notable in part because of its inclusion of a variety of important minor characters. It’s our first introduction to Vastra, Jenny, and Strax, and while they’re not quite as fantastic here as they are in later episodes, they are an immediate joy. Vastra gets a particularly good entrance, having just eaten Jack the Ripper. Strax’s comedic nature is also immediately on display here; his opening scene features him telling a military man “I hope some day to meet you in the glory of battle, where I shall crush the life from your worthless human form. Try and get some rest.” Dorium is a fun presence, and I enjoy his self-centered reaction to the Doctor’s plea for help. Lorna Bucket…is a terrific name, but not a terrific character. I do enjoy her very sweet conversation with Amy, but otherwise she’s mostly in the episode to provoke the Doctor’s guilt by tragically dying, which is tiresome. (At least she’s not in a literal refrigerator, like Abigail.) Madame Kovarian, who has appeared for brief moments in previous episodes but steps into a larger role here, is a striking presence. Frances Barber does a great job with the role, and her enjoyment of her own victory is entertaining enough, but she never really acquires the depth that some other villains have. The Silence are such a compelling and interesting presence this season that they seem like the main antagonists much more than she does, and so she can come across as something of a plot device. If we’d seen a little bit more of the factors motivating her need to destroy the Doctor, that would have made her a much more interesting figure, but she gets too caught up in being the conventional evil figure and we never really learn very much about the actual beliefs underlying the Kovarian sect.

           This is especially sad because the power structure set up here truly looks fascinating, but we continuously get tiny bits of information, like the Gamma Forests being “heaven neutral,” without getting any kind of elaboration. I keep wanting to get more information about how this theological system works and where the Doctor fits into it, but the glimpses that we get of it are definitely intriguing. While Madame Kovarian lacks depth, she does set up a tremendously energetic plot, in which both of the warring armies put together a dazzling array of attempts to outwit their opponents. The Headless Monks are particularly creepy, and I like that there are patches of genuine intelligence throughout the cast of characters. The Colonel may wind up withdrawing at the Doctor’s command, but I like that he leads his army to disarm themselves immediately after the Doctor’s presence is revealed. It shows that he really has put thought into the kind of enemy he is facing, and he seems, for the time, like a relatively formidable opponent. The constant rush of information about what’s really going on—given to us through a variety of characters’ perspectives—is sometimes bewildering but definitely exhilarating.  

           The Doctor helps to build this sense of exhilaration, and until the end of the episode, he is pretty clearly enjoying his own efforts to track down and rescue Amy and her baby. With Rory’s assistance, he stages an explosive takedown of some Cybermen, and he clearly plans his appearance to the Headless Monks with its theatrical impact in mind. He’s certainly concerned about Amy, but he’s also doing a lot of swaggering and posing and making grandiose statements about his own need for rules. He has engaged in similar behavior before, such as his intimidation of the Atraxi at the end of “The Eleventh Hour” and his speech to the monsters in “The Pandorica Opens,” but this is probably the most gratuitous display of his ability to engage in spectacle. On both of those previous occasions, frightening the enemy was part of the objective, and so a certain amount of shouting and posturing was understandable. Here, though, he’s basically on a mission to rescue a kidnapping victim, which seems like something ideally accomplished by stealth. If he had snuck inside, he probably could have picked up Amy and maybe even Melody without causing too much of a stir, but he is so intent upon having revenge upon the people who hurt his friends that he practically puts on a Broadway show about how much they should be afraid of him. I sort of alternate between really enjoying Smith’s performance and just wanting to shout at the character for behaving stupidly, but it does seem consistent with the way the character has developed.

This continues until the episode’s memorable ending, which is remarkable in part because of the information that River reveals about herself, but, I would argue, even more so because of her explanation to the Doctor of the problems he has caused. The Doctor isn’t aware, yet, of some of the trouble he will cause for her, but this is the right point in her timeline for River to voice what he’s done to her. The Doctor is the reason why she is spending most of her time in Stormcage, even if she does break out on a regular basis, and his tendency to create a spectacle out of his own world-saving endeavors is the reason why the Kovarian sect felt the need to kidnap and brainwash her in the first place. This is River’s chance to tell the Doctor about what he has done to her, only she can’t really say very much at this point, because…well, spoilers. I was put off, initially, by the fact that “The Wedding of River Song” doesn’t give her the opportunity to express any sort of anger about how the Doctor’s fake death lands her in a very real prison cell, but the truth is that she does get that opportunity here, she just can’t give him the details of what is provoking some of her anger because for him, it hasn’t happened yet. She can’t tell him how much of her life he has uprooted, but she can tell him exactly where he’s gone wrong and just how much he’s departed from his ideals. This has to be an awfully frustrating moment for River, who can’t reveal most of what’s motivating her remarks, but I’m glad she at least gets an opportunity to articulate how many problems the Doctor has caused for her, even if she has to do it in a rather impersonal way. The relationship between these two has never been so thoroughly complicated by its lack of chronological rhyme and reason, and the need to avoid spoilers has never been quite so difficult.  

While she still has to withhold some details about future events, River does finally get to tell the Doctor and the Ponds who she is. The reveal of River’s identity works far, far better than it should; I think that many viewers had probably guessed who she was by this point, and I had seen spoilers so I knew for sure, but the lack of surprise has weirdly no impact on the quality of the scene. The Doctor’s delight at what he learns is so vivid and so infectious that it feels like a burst of knowledge even if you already knew everything, and there is something immensely satisfying about watching the secret come to light. River’s name appearing on the scrap of cloth from Lorna is a nice moment, and the soundtrack really is lovely here; the “ooh-ooh-ooh” vocalizations sound similar enough to material that supports Amy’s narrative in other episodes that it feels especially appropriate for her daughter here. It’s sort of a bizarre plot twist, and it could just come across as a shocking moment, but the interaction between the Doctor, River, Amy, and Rory is just so endearing that the scene comes across as charming rather than merely surprising.  

           The ending is good enough that it generally overcomes the frustrating bits of the episode. While I think that Lorna and Madame Kovarian needed some more development, the assembled cast of characters is generally entertaining enough here that they carry the storyline toward its major revelations in an enjoyable way. The Doctor’s behavior is fun at times, but also can get annoying; that being said, his arrogance is brought to an interesting point in his argument with River, and he is at least limiting himself to shouting at his enemies, rather than his occasional much more irritating tendency to direct his self-centered boasting at his allies. His sense of swagger has helped him to protect and comfort people before—in his very first episode, he pretty much convinced the Atraxi to leave permanently by inflating himself like a giant, bowtie-wearing pufferfish until they got scared. It’s understandable, to some degree, that he would come to rely too much on his own ability to function like a neon warning sign, but I appreciate the attention, here, to the ways in which it affects the well-being of the people around him. I appreciate even more that this ending sets up an exploration of this impact in a way that focuses on their feelings as much as his own. River having to censor her own anger for spoilers is one of the most interesting insights that we get into her experiences, this season, and, as the episode reaches its conclusion, Amy and Rory are finally aware of just how complicated their family is. Amy is clearly emotionally fraught, enough so that she’s willing to demand answers at gunpoint, and the episode ends just as she finally gets those answers. Amy’s general tendency is to assume that time is rewritable, but that confidence has never been so thoroughly challenged; once a timeline involves the kinds of complexities that River Song brings with her, it’s nearly impossible to rewrite. A-

Let’s Kill Hitler: The whole episode is basically a very high stakes screwball comedy, which is already sort of an odd concept and which becomes even odder when it is dropped into Nazi Germany. Major things are happening here, ranging from an attack on Adolf Hitler to the regeneration of River Song to the almost-death of the Doctor. There are pieces of this episode that are borderline disastrous, and others that are phenomenally good, and it’s not easy to figure out how to balance them against each other. I…like the episode a little bit, I guess?

           We continue the River-related revelations that began in the previous episode, this time with a focus on what her childhood was like after Madame Kovarian took her away from Amy. I don’t really buy the idea that “Mels is actually Melody, who is also River” is impossibly complicated; if you can describe a situation in a fairly short sentence, it’s not that reliant on convolutions. It does, however, introduce some complexities into the Ponds’ reaction to the loss of their child. Her role in their lives is a bit bizarre, particularly in the sense that she was present for the beginning of her parents’ romantic relationship, but it does at least give us a chance to return to young Amy, this time with the added presence of tiny Rory. Mels is right that, in one sense, they did get to raise her; the childhood sequences in this episode make her seem like a constant presence in their lives, so it’s really not the case that they didn’t get to see their child grow up, they just did so without realizing who she was. They also did so without realizing that she was being brainwashed by Madame Kovarian, and so they’re in the unusual position of finding out that their daughter is someone whom they know well while simultaneously finding out that they didn’t know her that well at all, really.

           Amy doesn’t seem like she quite knows how to react to things, which makes sense but also causes some difficulties for viewers trying to connect to Amy’s emotions. Several of the later episodes this season—“The Girl Who Waited,” “The God Complex,” and “The Wedding of River Song”—give us a really specific read on exactly what is happening in Amy’s mind and why it might not be translating into demonstrative emotions in a particularly conventional way. Because they are focused on why she is suppressing or ignoring certain feelings, it makes sense to show her being, essentially, silent about her emotions at this point. I would say that this episode and “Night Terrors” make sense in retrospect, once those later episodes point us toward the nuances of Amy’s psychological state, but both episodes can look sort of unsatisfying for the moment, because she currently seems to be underreacting and we don’t find out why until a couple of episodes later. This sort of delayed gratification isn’t necessarily a terrible thing, but I do think it would have been better if Moffat had found some way to signal the tensions within Amy’s mind at this point, so that viewers wouldn’t have already felt like they were being underplayed by the time the episodes that did flesh out her perspective came around.

           The rest of the episode is also a combination of some things that work extremely well and some things that don’t quite manage it. The Tesselecta are much more satisfying doppelgangers than the Flesh were earlier this season, and their cold, meticulous system of copying people in order to deliver punishment is terrifying. Their extremely clinical methods of transforming into other people, then miniaturizing them and leaving them to be killed by antibodies, are also brutal in a weirdly calm, organized way, which makes them even scarier. I don’t find doppelgangers to be the most interesting kinds of Doctor Who creatures in general, but these are, at least, a solid version of the concept.

           While it is, in some respects, a very scary episode, it’s also a story with some great pieces of comedy. I particularly like Rory punching Hitler and shoving him into a cupboard, and little Amelia as the matter-of-fact, pessimistic Voice Interface is really cute, as is Amy and Rory using their car to make a crop circle that spells out Doctor in order to get his attention. I would have liked to see a bit more interaction between the Doctor and River, but what we do get is fun, and the business with the gun and the banana is especially delightful. Her regeneration itself is an incredibly odd moment that generally fits quite well into the episode’s zany tone, although River’s immediate reaction to her new appearance is pretty ridiculously oversexualized. It’s sort of nice to see a character regenerate from a twenty-something into a body played by an actress who is nearly fifty and look pleased about it—I would definitely have been much more bothered if River had been lamenting her lost youth—but her raptures about her new body go on for way too long. (And we didn’t really need to know her plans about how much she’s going to wear jodhpurs now.) She has a good time running around Germany and causing chaos, though, and River’s effusive reaction to her own appearance aside, the episode generally does well when it’s giving us a fun glimpse into just how inherently silly time-travel adventures can be.

           When we get into more Serious Things, I’m somewhat less happy. The Doctor’s impending doom never feels like something that has any chance of happening, but I still like watching his efforts to cling to life. This goes on a bit too long, though, and so when River makes the decision to use her regenerations to save him, the whole thing feels rushed, and the emotional force doesn’t quite land. I can imagine this episode’s emotional structure actually working quite well if a few of the smaller pieces were more successful; it seems like the intention may have been to give us an unusually topsy-turvy world for much of the episode, and then pull the rug out from under that by turning toward a deeply emotional moment at the end. This is an interesting move, and one that has a huge amount of potential, as emotional revelations can hit even harder when they come out of nowhere and represent a sudden, massive shift in tone. This is a structure that requires a huge amount of finesse in order to pull it off, though, and River’s realization that the Doctor is important to her doesn’t quite create enough of a bridge between the episode’s general absurdity and its more sincere conclusion.

           This is an intensely difficult episode, far more so than the fun adventure that preceded it, and Moffat doesn’t quite pull it off. I really do like being swept up into such a madcap story on the heels of the last episode’s revelations, but it needed a lighter touch at the end. I can also imagine this being frustrating for viewers who watched in real time, as the long gap between the air date of this and “A Good Man Goes to War” would have built up a great deal of anticipation about how the characters would react to the revelation of River’s identity. I did not watch these when they first aired, and so was able to watch without the gap in time, but there is still a little bit of a sense of letdown, in spite of my general enjoyment of this story. B/B-