#it's just the writers' treatment of these characters' fates/ sometimes actions leading up to the fates are... bit odd

[jrueships]

Is oz gay like the wire?

oh Indeeeeed.... spoken in u know whose gay lil croon

[battlestar-royco]

sometimes, i can't believe how much sjm seemingly hates nesta, considering the way she describes her sometimes. and then i read anything to do with the way cassian and/or feyre treats her and i'm like, yup, you do. it makes no sense! it's like how she created manon, yet degrades her so badly!

Yep, it's another sign of her bad writing, how much she favors certain characters and treats others terribly. You can always tell who her faves are because she alters the course of the story to revolve around those characters and trash the others. AC0TAR was probably peak treatment of N/esta. She was in like three scenes and she still had an interesting arc throughout those (first she was the stereotypical evil sister, then she developed into someone more active, caring, and fearless in Faerug's absence). But once it became clear that N/esta's endgame was going to be Cassion....

Cassiass has nowhere near the level of depth that N/esta has, which is saying a lot considering that N/esta is only a "deep" character by Mess's standards--which is to say, she has flaws that aren't excused, plus internal and external conflict, and a moving arc. However, Cass takes up way more narrative space than she does, and he completely dominates the relationship even though he has at best an equally strong personality to N/esta (hers is stronger imo). The IC present their sob stories and their flaws, equally as emo and morally gray if not completely evil as N/esta's. Assriel tortures people. Cassiass is Rice's deadliest commander. A/mren drinks blood regularly. Rice is abusive and incompetent as a friend, partner, and leader. N/esta AND E/lain neglected Faerug as children, but their father was the guardian responsible, and somehow all the blame falls on... N/esta?! Somehow N/esta is the black sheep of the family even though the entire dynamic between the three sisters is super fucked up (and could be interesting if written by a skilled writer), and Faerug's actions lead to terrible consequences for her sisters throughout the trilogy.

I'm all for characters being held responsible for their actions--which is why N/esta's one of the only AC0TAR characters I can take seriously anymore; she's not portrayed as a paragon of virtue despite committing evil deeds--but the same standard needs to be held for ALL the "good" AC0TAR characters. It makes no sense to "redeem" known abusers like Tom Lane, Rice, Eris, and Papa Arch, or for the IC to accept E/lain for being a doormat despite being just as complacent in their treatment of Faerug, but force N/esta to repent for four books until she gets dicked down by the approved fae piece of shit. SJ/M has a big problem with "empowering" non-self insert women, which is why E/lain is such a non entity and N/esta and Man0n are fated to submit to their ~malez~. The evidence for that is all there when you look at the double standards for the main characters' behavior vs the secondary/tertiary characters.

[nakhavanfys]

The Unburnt

Game of Thrones is a show that will be remembered forever, arguably, as one of the greatest shows part of cinematic history. Game of Thrones, also known as GOT, is based in a medieval-time style realm that exposes extreme sexism, homophobia, enforcement of gender roles, exposure to rape and assault, as well as many other extremely difficult topics to handle. Often, the audience may feel extremely uncomfortable watching the treatment and the way women are viewed on the show. But the directors of GOT built the show in such a way that the audience can see that what they are showing is problematic all the while resolving our uneasy feelings by inviting us to see how these characters navigate through their difficult world. This is through the show’s vivid and bold characters. Each one was crafted to not only carry the story of the show effectively but also for the audience to create relationships with each character because we see them go through trials and tribulations. It is no wonder that one of its main characters, Daenerys Targaryen is not only so focused on throughout the show but also is one of the reasons why people stuck with this story and made Game of Thrones a part of their lives for eight years.

Daenerys Targaryen goes through a transformation from a character that was once timid and forced into submission by many forces, to later becoming Khaleesi (queen) the Unburnt is critical to redefining gender roles and the meaning behind taking the power that was once held by those deemed stronger than you. Even though some of her actions throughout the show might not always be seen as monumental if they were to be done in our society, it is all about context. Everyone has their own journeys and people try to give power to themselves through certain actions. By viewing Dany’s actions within the context of the show, not only can she be viewed as an unforgettable character on GOT but also she can be seen as a role model to those who watch the show. 

Daenerys’s rise to power and peak feminist role model status did not seem like it was going to happen at the beginning of the show, for she was timid and made to be small through what was being done to her. GOT introduces Daenerys to us by insensitively having her sold by her brother into a loveless marriage all in the name of alliances with clans, to only then have her raped by her ‘husband.’ And for a while throughout the show, she accepted this as her fate and that this was considered her duty to her family. This is extremely problematic in the sense that she is expected through the notion of history’s gender roles to do this for the sake of her family and that she is expected to endure this. To many audience members, this was a line that was to be drawn and many did not want to continue further with, because they thought these reinforcements of gender roles were to continue throughout the show. It seemed that GOT was only perpetuating ideas that society is working so hard to destroy and almost made them sensationalized through her beauty, which is entirely problematic. But as time passes on throughout the show, there can be reasoning to why it is worth sticking through the painful and triggering scenes. GOT brings to light the reality of what many women go through. Connections can be made through what Daenerys goes through not only mentally, emotionally, but also physically. Although everything is heightened and emphasized painfully so to make a point for entertainment values, cords of solidarity with Dany’s character can be felt with audience member who have gone through what she has. Often, many people endure the atrocities that happen to them, because in the moment, that is the best that they can do. We are only human. Of course we want to see our sisters rise up and fight against what is happening to them, but no one is perfect. Sometimes out of survival and preservation, people feel the need to either accept what is happening to them even though we always wish for them to muster whatever strength they have to fight their way out of unfortunate circumstances. And the reason why Daenerys becomes Khaleesi is that in fact she becomes fed up with her situation and burns down her walls of oppression.

It does not take long for Daenerys to become maddened by her life, leading her to flip the power dynamics in her then current situation all the while maintaining the ‘proper etiquette’ of her society in order to carry out her plans unnoticed by opposing forces. Her first idea in changing her positioning in power dynamics with the people in her life was first by approaching her relationship with her husband. At first, in bed there was no confusing what was happening, which was rape: it was clearly not consensual for her husband took what he wanted with no question of how he went about it. But as time went on, she began to develop a strategy. She decided to gain some power when forced into to being intimate with her husband by initiating positioning to her liking as well as demanding what she wanted while in bed all the while ‘allowing’ him to think that he is in control of the dominance during sex. These changes allowed not only for her to not be forced into non-consensual sex but also she then created a relationship with her husband beyond an arranged marriage. Dany became respected by her husband, Khal Drogo when she began exhibiting her power during sex. Due to strength and power being prominent traits within her husband’s culture, Khal Drogo not only received her self-respect but also embraced Dany as his Khaleesi, queen, and was enthralled by her power. Of course, this is dramatically romanticized and these steps are not encouraged to be taken by women within our society for that means that they would have to accept the situation they are in. Instead, this should be thought of as empowering and inspiring within the context of the show and that it is up to you in how you define your own power in any given situation. Whether it is through huge monumental moves that disintegrate entire systems built against one, or by taking a strategic path to win the long game through small power moves, either way, it’s your call.

Now that Dany had taken on the identity of a powerful Khaleesi, her character continues to crumble gender roles that defined women in GOT, specifically when she earns part of her title, The Unburnt. Dany fully embraces the title and attitude of Khaleesi when her husband dies and she is left to lead an entire people. Desperate and determined to have her husband’s legacy thrive, let alone survive, she proves to the Dothraki people, her husband’s culture, that she is to be trusted for she is the ‘unburnt.’ In a scene in which she is unscathed despite being in the middle of a roaring fire, she walks out and makes a vow to her people. And as a response, they all give loyalty to her. This scene is imperative to the notion of breaking gender roles because usually a male character is most often depicted as someone who is strong and never gets hurt. In an article on gendered media, writer Julia T. Wood expresses that in fact, “media continue[s] to present both women and men in stereotyped ways that limit our perceptions of human possibilities.”1 By Dany coming out from the fire without a single burn, she is metaphorically expressing the idea that she extends beyond the possibilities of what society has deemed women capable of. Khaleesi the Unburnt makes waves not only in her world but in the world of film by proving that she has unyielding power and strength in comparison to her counterparts. These pivotal scenes open up conversation for people to have fictional characters to look up to and thus spark inspiration in the minds of many.

(1 Wood, Julia T. “Gendered Media: The Influence of Media on Views of Gender .” NYU , www.nyu.edu/classes/jackson/causes.of.gender.inequality/Readings/Wood%20- %20Gendered%20Media%20-%2094.pdf.)

Daenerys’s resiliency and transformation on Game of Thrones is not only electrifying to viewers but essential to the bigger idea of female characters breaking gender roles on the big screen. Media, specifically tv shows and film are often people’s escape from the real world all the while still creating stories we can relate to. We as people usually can create connections and notice similarities between us and our beloved characters. Time and time again, tv shows perpetuate gender roles and sexist notions of how people are to be and to act, but GOT switched paths from the tiring ritual. The shifting of power dynamics as well as changing the of once solidified ideas of gender performance found within Dany’s journey creates a hero for many, for through her hardships, viewers can make connections to their own narratives and strive to be resilient and come out unscathed like Khaleesi the Unburnt. Not only seeing women on tv is enough but it is crucial that they are seen as powerful and in control of their lives is valuable. Writer Rebecca Collins notes that, “[i]t is concluded that, while increasing the representation of women in media may be valuable, it is also critical that the manner in which they are portrayed be simultaneously considered to avoid increasing negative or stereotypical depictions that may be particularly harmful to viewers.”2 Collins emphasizes that what people see through the media is more important than just an interesting story. Luckily GOT covers important ground, for Dany’s exploration of self-discovery from marriage to sexual assault to death of those closest to her do not define her, they simply were tests in where she decided to make choices that lead her to being a stronger version of her self with every new challenge throne her way. Hopefully, through GOT’s success and people’s love of the characters, other shows and movies will strive to also create characters that defy gender roles.

(2Collins, Rebecca. “Content Analysis of Gender Roles in Media: Where Are We Now and Where Should We Go?” Gender roles; Media.)

[timeflies1007-blog]

Doctor Who Reviews by a Female Doctor, Season 6, p. 1

Warning: These reviews contain spoilers for this and other seasons of the reboot, as well as occasional references to the classic series. 

Previously on Doctor Who: The universe ended, but then it didn’t. (Hurray!) Last season ended on the most unequivocally positive note of any season of the reboot, in which nobody died (at least not permanently), nobody suffered a catastrophic fate, and everything concluded with a lovely wedding. This season is a very different kind of story; in spite of the numerous deaths that don’t stick, this season is full of consequences, and of the dark side of the much brighter narrative that we got in Season Five. “Dark side” is the easiest term to use in describing this shift, but it doesn’t get at the entirety of what is going on here. I would argue that this is, in some senses, among the most hopeful seasons of the show, and certainly one of the most redemptive character arcs. Problems are awfully hard to fix this season—much, much harder than in most previous ones and certainly than in the immediate predecessor—but our heroes try so strenuously to emerge from these problems that I wind up with feelings that are a lot warmer and fuzzier than one might expect from the relative bleakness of this narrative.

This season has a reputation for devoting too little attention to Amy’s feelings, particularly in light of her pregnancy and subsequent separation from her baby. It’s a widespread view, but not really one that I get. To me, about 90% of the season is about Amy, to the point that I can understand criticisms that it’s too closely focused on her feelings more than I can understand the opposite. I do think that the season is better at representing her feelings of loss and grief than it is at exploring her bodily experience, but overall we get enough detail about her mental state that I only very rarely feel like she’s being underwritten. A more complex issue is the methods by which Moffat portrays Amy’s crisis. This season is pretty thoroughly wrapped up in concepts of silence and, to a lesser extent, vision. This raises the possibility of ableist metaphors, the kind that develop when writers use blindness, deafness, muteness, etc. as ways of making a point about moral failings. For the most part, I think the season avoids falling into this trap. As I’ll explain in more detail later in the season, I think that the inobservability of certain forms of trauma, as well as the difficulties in communication that stem from them, are very real parts of Amy’s circumstances, so that while there are metaphorical treatments of these issues, they are tied to very real mental health issues in which sight and speech play integral roles, and so it doesn’t come across to me as using disability as an analogy for unrelated experiences. It’s a difficult issue, though, and one that I’m trying to be attentive to as I write about these aspects of the season.  

There are so many ways to interpret this season, and this can lead to questions about what Moffat actually meant this narrative to be about. It’s certainly a question worth considering, but I’m not terribly invested in the answer. Amy’s story this season means very specific things to me, grounded in my own experiences, and I’m not particularly concerned with whether or not Moffat completely intended the story to function in the way that I see it. I do think that at least pieces of the story seem to have been intentionally composed in the ways that I understand them, but there are so many pieces to this narrative that my interpretation of some of them might be completely different from what Moffat meant. Explaining how this season comes across to me is especially difficult because it’s so dependent on how the episodes fit together with each other; it’s hard to articulate the importance of individual episodes, sometimes, and so this season’s review may be more than usually centered on the review of the season as a whole at the end.

This is also the season in which we get a pre-credits voiceover sequence, a.k.a. Amy Pond telling us “When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend…” and then going into a tiny synopsis of her friendship with the Doctor. I’m not really sure why this is here or who it was intended to be useful for, because anyone who’s seen the show before knows this information and anyone who jumps into the show in the middle of this season is going to have a lot of questions that aren’t answered by this segment. It’s pretty annoying, but if you watch on Amazon the fast-forward button is a very helpful friend whenever this voiceover comes up. Given the unusual amount of connection between this season and its predecessor, though, something of a recap of what has gone before is appropriate, particularly as a way into Amy’s mentality. A more accurate and useful version might go something like this: “When Amy Pond was a little girl, she had an imaginary friend, and she spent much of her childhood struggling to keep believing in him. He came back, and so did Amy’s belief in his capacity to rewrite time. He’s done so many wonderful things that even death seems rewritable. Amy’s particular brand of faith ran away with her, and they’ve been running ever since.” And…here we go.

A Christmas Carol: There are about sixty billion versions of A Christmas Carol, but to my knowledge this is the only one with flying sharks. This episode features a lot of whimsy, both shark-related and otherwise, but it’s deceptively serious as well. Some Doctor Who Christmas episodes are integral to seasonal arcs on the show, while others function more as standalones. This one is unusual in that it looks like the latter, but turns out to be much more connected to the season than it initially appears. In fact, it’s connected to two seasons, and one could see it as Season Five’s endpoint almost as much as the start of Season Six. In some ways, it functions as a sort of bridge between the two seasons, but I see this primarily as our first foray into the odd combination of light and solemnity that characterizes much of Season Six. “Halfway out of the darkness” could be seen as the theme of this season, and so the Doctor’s use of this phrase to define Christmas is our introduction to an important concept.

           It’s also our first step into the troubling side of the “time can be rewritten” idea, which is hugely important for Season Six. At the end of the last season, the Doctor basically rewrote the universe, fixing at least some of the pieces of existence that disappeared through the time crack and rewriting time on a very large scale. Here, this happens on a much smaller, more personal level, and while it brings about Kazran Sardick’s redemption, it also comes across as invasive and potentially destructive. Season Six devotes a great deal of time to the human cost of miracles, and it’s pretty concerning that, while Kazran might have wound up a better man because of the Doctor’s interference, he’s also a different one, to the extent that his technology no longer recognizes his brain. The ethical implications of essentially rewriting a person, even if the rewrite is morally superior to the original, are not really discussed here but this moment of his brain literally becoming unrecognizable highlights just how much of an impact the Doctor’s actions can have. It’s such a dramatic change that it’s difficult to avoid thinking “Would the Doctor really be all right with just giving someone an entirely new backstory, complete with memories of experiences and connections that had never existed before?” and this question persists until we go back to the honeymooning couple and remember that last season’s happy ending pretty much depended on exactly that happening to Amy.

We also get the season’s first mention of silence—not, in this case, a scary monster, but an aspect of loneliness. I didn’t really listen to the lyrics in Abigail’s song the first time I watched the episode, but they’re eerily appropriate for the upcoming season. Lines like “When you’re alone, silence is all you know” and “Let in the shadow; let in the light of your bright shadow” are awfully cheesy, but Christmas episodes can get away with a little bit more cheese than usual, and the song is just so pretty that it gets away with the lack of subtlety. Given the rest of the season’s attention to Amy remaining steadfastly silent about a lot of her problems and refusing to acknowledge the shadow in her life, in retrospect it seems like a song about the growth that she needs to do this season. Because the episode feels like a commentary on Amy’s arc this season, I’m ok with her relatively small role in this episode, and even the return of the kiss-o-gram outfit only annoys me a little bit.

I am more bothered by the treatment of Abigail herself, even though I love her and I’m happy whenever she’s on screen. It’s sort of weird to apply the concept of fridging to a character who is so vibrant and lively throughout the episode, and who doesn’t actually die in it, but if you’re going to have a female character’s impending demise operating as an important plot point, it’s probably a good idea to avoid literally putting her in a giant freezer. There are quite a few rankings of Christmas specials on the internet, and while there are of course fluctuations between the lists, this one is the clear favorite. I do think that it’s the most creative and possibly the most fun, but I would rank it behind at least one and maybe several of the other specials on the grounds that Moffat doesn’t manage to give Abigail a storyline that’s meaningful to her (as opposed to being a motivation for Kazran’s narrative) to go along with the dynamic personality and gorgeous voice.

           When it’s not putting Abigail on ice, this episode is thoroughly delightful in spite of its serious attention to the season’s darker themes. The production design brings together exactly the right combination of quirk and genuine beauty in creating a stunningly gorgeous planet. The fish/sharks are brilliant—the whole scenario is weirdly believable as the basis for this planet’s economy and power structures, and young Kazran’s account of the bonding that he missed out on when he was away from school during a fish attack gives us an intriguing glimpse into the role that the fish play in this culture. The Doctor reacts charmingly to them, particularly in his optimistic assertion that “I bet I get some very interesting readings off my sonic screwdriver when I get it back from the shark in your bedroom.” Even beyond the goofy charm of the fish, the episode is a strong adaptation of Dickens’s novella. This is partly because of Michael Gambon’s strong performance as Kazran Sardick—a name that nicely exaggerates Dickens’s proclivity for character-appropriate naming. What’s most impressive, though, is the way the episode works with the past/present/future structure. Much of the episode weaves smoothly between the first two, allowing us to watch the older Kazran remember the memories that didn’t exist until the Doctor showed up. I fully expected the future part of the story to involve a trip into Kazran’s near future, as the TARDIS would make it easy enough to get him there. Just when the episode looks like it’s going to do a pretty conventional take on Christmas Yet to Come, it does something thoroughly unexpected; this season is pretty plot-twist heavy, but few of the later revelations startle me quite as much as the sudden appearance of young Kazran, staring fearfully into the old man who has become his future. I can’t quite articulate why this works so well, but I was so surprised by this approach when I first saw the episode that it completely took my breath away.

While Abigail’s literal fridging diminishes my enjoyment a bit, I’m incredibly impressed with how well this special brings together serious psychological issues with a truly fun, entertaining story. We get a lot of attention, in this season, to the rewriting of time, and to the presence of Silence—in most cases, these are part of big, complicated, large-scale stories. Seeing them operate as pieces of a much more intimate, personal tale of loss is an important introduction to how one should think about the events that lie ahead. The episode isn’t without missteps, but a beautiful set, stunning character work, and flying sharks all in one episode are a pretty fabulous Christmas present. A-

The Impossible Astronaut: This is technically the start of the major arc of Season Six, but it picks up so many ideas from “A Christmas Carol” and from the end of Season Five that it feels like the opening number of Act Two rather than the beginning of a completely new story. Watching the Doctor die a few minutes into the episode is a shocking moment, both because it’s the protagonist’s demise and because of the unusualness of the murder method—namely, being shot by an astronaut who has emerged from the depths of an American lake. It’s pretty clear that the Doctor isn’t really dead, as the show can’t exactly move forward without him, but trying to figure out exactly what happened and how he wriggled out of what looks like certain death is fun even in the certainty that it won’t stick.

           There is an immensely enjoyable sense of silliness at work here that erases any sense of self-importance that might otherwise come from appearing to kill of your lead character in a season premiere. The Doctor’s attention-getting historical forays at the beginning of the episode are a bit hit-or-miss for me, but the scenes at the White House are sublimely funny (with the very brief exception that we definitely didn’t need the Doctor referring to his companions as “the legs, the nose, and Mrs. Robinson.”) The shocked reaction to a big blue box turning up in the oval office is particularly well done, as is the dialogue in the ensuing scene: the Secret Service officer yelling “Do not compliment the intruder!” is probably my favorite line, but the Doctor trying to requisition a fez and some jammy dodgers is a close second. Canton is an immediate delight, coming across as smart and snarky and just a little bit bewildered about all of the sci-fi material that is suddenly unfolding around him.

           The episode’s considerable humor competes with quite a lot of serious material. This is due in part to River’s increasing consciousness of the difficulties of her relationship with the Doctor, who knows less about her each time they meet. Even more importantly, Silence has been threatened, foreshadowed, and even sung about, but this is the episode in which it finally becomes monstrous. I don’t think I’d get a lot of agreement on this, but to me, the Silence are Moffat’s greatest monsters. Yes, I like them better than the Weeping Angels. The idea of a monster that you forget when you’re not looking at it is inherently frightening, offers a lot of potential for really interesting subtext, and works incredibly well in a visual medium. Watching the characters go back and forth between terror and total ease is fascinating, and the music underscoring some of these scenes helps to make these moments even more effective.

           The monsters aren’t the only things creating emotional imbalance in this episode. Amy, who is finally in an outfit that no one could reasonably interpret as an attempt to over-sexualize her, goes through quite a lot of turmoil here. After the events of the previous season, it’s unsurprising that her ability to process grief in a healthy way is slipping. She does react tearfully to the Doctor’s “death,” but her immediate reaction to it also essentially involves rewriting it in more palatable terms in her mind—“maybe it’s a doppelganger, or a clone,” she insists, as she frantically tries to piece together the version of this story in which things will turn out okay. Even after she sees the Doctor alive again, she starts thinking about how his eventual death can be unwritten. This reaches its climax when she grabs a gun and shoots at the astronaut, which is shot in crazy slow motion that should be awfully cheesy but somehow is marvelous. There is a lot of focus this season on Amy’s disillusionment with certain aspects of her relationship with the Doctor, and this is the first moment that she turns away from his principles, even if it is brief and she misses. (I would see this as a cop-out if the events of the season finale didn’t happen, but they do and so I don’t.) “Time can be rewritten” is a hopeful expression, sort of, but it’s also one that takes away the possibility of closure, that stops one from recognizing the need to move on. Amy’s willing to do anything to rewrite time here, even to the extent of pointing a gun at a stranger and pulling the trigger, and for all the excitement in this episode, it’s her psychological state that I find most chilling. A-

Day of the Moon: Sometimes, Moffat has a tendency to write something stunningly brilliant and then distract from its brilliance by including one or two really annoying things, and this episode is one of the most prominent examples. This story, and particularly this second part of it, is terrific, and if it were not for a couple of glaring missteps, I would put this episode well within the top 30 of the reboot. Its ranking plummets, however, (to, I think slightly outside my top 70 in the eleven seasons so far) because of a couple of brief moments that draw attention to their own stupidity and distract me from how fabulous the rest of the episode is.

           I’ll get into the things that bother me in a little bit, but let me first say that what definitely doesn’t bother me is the plot-driven nature of this two-parter. It is inarguably the case that a LOT is happening here, and the sheer magnitude of the plot is one of the things that puts a lot of people off about this season. There are definitely some aspects of the seasonal arc that suffer from the narrative twistiness, and while I do think that there is far more character-driven work this season than it tends to get credit for, this episode is one of the plottier ones. The thing is, plot twists are usually intellectual devices grounded in being flashy and impressive, but sometimes events come together in such a perfect way that I do wind up reacting emotionally. Watching what looks like chaos be revealed as order carries with it a sort of surprised sense that things look nicer than what I expected, sort of like suddenly seeing a kitten. My heart just goes, “My goodness, I wasn’t expecting you!” and pieces of this episode bring out that kind of reaction in me, to the point where, if I were a person who tended to cry at television shows, I’d be sniffling about how lovely the narrative structure is.

           We begin the episode with precisely the kind of giddily brilliant scenes that I’m talking about, as Canton appears to hunt down and kill the entire Pond family, while keeping the Doctor locked up in a familiar-looking prison. (And yes, you could see this as a bit repetitive, but I kind of love that there was pretty clearly an offscreen exchange in which Canton asked the Doctor how to construct the facade of a perfect prison for containing him, and the Doctor just described the Pandorica. It’s nice when he’s willing to get ideas from all his worst enemies. I hope the Doctor did impressions of all the monsters while he was explaining the plan to Canton.) The invisible TARDIS suddenly coming to light, the Ponds complaining about a lack of airholes in their body bags, River falling backwards off a building and into the TARDIS swimming pool…it’s such a stunning bit of goofiness and I love it. The show can’t spend too much time on hijinks like the swimming pool business or it would start to look awfully self-indulgent, but in small doses it’s just incredibly charming.

After the delights of the opening sequence, we learn more about the Silence and the efforts being made to remember them. The lines drawn on the skin as a memory technique never fail to scare the hell out of me this season, but I also like the implanted voicemails, which are nicely creepy ways of getting across just how much is being forgotten. The children’s home is a solidly atmospheric setting, and while I get a bit annoyed about the amount of time spent on a kidnapped Amy pleading for help, her initial wander around the house is a strong introduction to her role in the little girl’s life. The notion that the Silence have manipulated humanity into traveling to the moon so that they can get access to fancy spacesuits is also pretty frightening—this whole episode really emphasizes just how much influence the Silence have had on Earth, and their input on space exploration is a good example of how far their impact has extended. I do have a few qualms about the role that they have played in influencing human affairs; there are moments in this episode that seem to lurk pretty close to just removing human agency altogether through the suggestion that the Silence have been manipulating us into almost everything we’ve ever done. The depiction of 1960s America is so vibrant in this episode, though, and the characters are so full of purpose and energy, that it doesn’t come across as a brainwashed world.

The entire plot is captivating, but the Doctor’s defeat of the Silence is the clear high point, and is one of my favorite resolutions ever on this show. A couple of factors make this work, the first being how suggestible people are when they are looking at a Silent. The Doctor makes clear—by having Canton look at a Silent and telling him to adjust his bowtie—that people can be influenced by what they have heard while looking at a Silent, even when they have forgotten the entire experience. The quasi-hypnotic possibilities certainly play a role here, but I would say that the pattern of remembering and forgetting associated with the Silence also makes the Doctor’s plan work. It has been established that everyone forgets the Silence only when they are not looking at them; Amy, for instance, remembers seeing the Silent at the lake when she sees another in the White House bathroom. Everyone who ever watches the footage of the moon landing will therefore see the “You should kill us all on sight” message, immediately forget it once the image has passed, and then remember it only if they happen to come across another Silent. The proper version of the moon landing thus stays intact in everybody’s memory, but if they find themselves in the company of a Silent, they will suddenly regain the knowledge that they need to see the Silent as an enemy. In spite of the hypnotic influence of the Silent’s words, this doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone will actually try to kill them—I can imagine that some would be too frightened to take them on, and others would just be incapable. The increased presence of human knowledge and aggression, though, means that the Silence face a world that is more hostile and dangerous, and have a legitimate reason for seeking a new planet to rule. What’s especially brilliant about the Doctor’s plan is that because of the general state of forgetfulness, it doesn’t push humanity to hunt down the Silence and try to drive them away; whether the “kill us on sight” line is functioning as hypnotic influence or people are remembering instructions when they see a Silent, the impulse depends on being in close enough proximity to the Silence that they are actually visible. This gives the Silence the information that their safety has been compromised, thereby giving them the incentive to go somewhere else, and so if they’re careful about not being seen, they should be able to get away. (They’re good at appropriating human technology, so I can imagine that they would be able to get themselves to another planet.) It’s a revolution by warning, in which nobody really needs to get killed, and the whole notion of uploading cell phone footage into a 1960s video in order to let scary monsters know that they need to abandon Earth is just such a creative way of resolving things that I absolutely love it. You could make the argument, and many have, that Moffat can get too clever-clogs for his own good, but watching the narrative click into place like this—I don’t know, the world just looks a bit sunnier for a while. It’s not often that you want to hug a cell phone, but I really do by the end of this story.

The surprises don’t stop there, as we conclude the episode with the revelation that the little girl that they have been looking for is regenerating. We know so little about her at this point that I don’t have that much of a reaction to the character’s experience, but it’s such an unexpected moment (at least it was to me) that it makes for an extremely strong ending to the story. There is as much genuine surprise in this episode as almost any other in the episode, and these twists are incorporated so beautifully into the story that it’s a joy to experience the rush that comes from realizing just what has happened.

In spite of the fabulousness of much of this episode, it doesn’t make my all-time favorites list because of a couple of smaller pieces that lower the quality of the entire episode. One problem with this episode is the brief and thoroughly unwelcome return of the Amy/Rory/Doctor love triangle. It’s present only as a miscommunication—Rory hears Amy say something to him that sounds like it could be addressed to the Doctor, and worries that she is regretting her choice to marry him. She also tells the Doctor that she’s pregnant without telling Rory, suggesting that she places more trust in the Doctor. Of course, everything is resolved by the end, but while her explanation that she didn’t want to tell Rory about her pregnancy because she’s worried that her baby will be born with “three heads, or like a time head” is believable enough, this whole element just comes across as extremely contrived. Amy’s use of the “fell out of the sky” language to describe Rory doesn’t really accord with the notion that they’ve been friends since childhood, and so it just looks like Moffat made her say intentionally confusing things in order to create a space for marital drama. The interaction between the Ponds at the end of the episode is awfully cute, though—I particularly liked Rory’s jubilant exclamation that he’s “never going to stop being stupid!”—so while I did not enjoy this throwback to last season’s most irritating subplot, I was still happy with the Ponds as a couple by the end of the story. The larger problem is the exchange between Canton and Nixon in which we learn of Canton’s sexuality. I really, really like Canton; the actor is great, the character’s combination of obvious intelligence and befuddlement about what on earth is happening is endearing, and he’s a solid source of support for the Doctor and Ponds in this story. I’m glad that the show is making more of an effort to include LGBT characters this season, after not doing at all well in this regard in Season Five, and Canton was, I think, at this point the second-most screentime for an LGBT character, after Captain Jack. Given that for both Captain Jack and the soon-to-debut Vastra and Jenny, their sexuality is a defining element of their characterization, it’s sort of a nice bit of variation to have a character who is primarily known for his work in the monster-fighting plot, and whose sexuality emerges as a minor part of his background. However, while getting across Canton’s sexuality in just a line or two is a reasonable move on those grounds, the actual lines are completely misguided and deeply problematic. Nixon’s reaction that the moon is “far enough for now” just comes across as laughing at the sixties for being a homophobic time period, which is blatantly unfunny both because of the tremendous discrimination facing gay couples in the 1960s and because in many ways that discrimination hasn’t stopped. Nixon’s inability to accept such a relationship is the punchline here more than Canton himself is, but it’s a completely inappropriate piece of humor. Even the soundtrack emphasizes the jokey nature of the exchange, making this even more grating.

If you took out the five seconds devoted to Nixon’s reaction to Canton’s sexuality, you would have a very, very strong episode; I would put up with the brief return to the Pond Relationship Drama in exchange for all of the fascinating stuff that happens to them here. There’s just enough that annoys me, though, that I don’t love the episode as much as its stellar plot warrants. In a way, this makes this two-parter a fitting opener to the regular season, as Season Six is, in general, a giant mass of brilliance that wanders off into total stupidity at intervals. Overall, this two-parter is a mostly glorious, intermittently frustrating opening to a season that is full of both wonderful and terrible things. B+

The Curse of the Black Spot: It’s a shame that this utterly boring episode happens here, in what is otherwise a terrific string of episodes. A few questionable things in “Day of the Moon” aside, the string of eight episodes that starts with “Vincent and the Doctor” and ends with “The Doctor’s Wife” is full of glory—except for this episode, which manages to make pirates dull. I do like the setting for the episode, which is what keeps it out of my bottom five episodes of the reboot—watching the characters run around on a pirate ship is entertaining enough to lift the episode above the slog of unimaginative plotting that otherwise characterizes this story. Still, for an episode that has the automatic fun of featuring pirates on a pirate ship, this is a huge disappointment.

           There are some decent moments here; the beginning of the episode, in which pirates react with terror to extremely minor injuries, is relatively intriguing, and Lord Grantham from Downton Abbey does a good job as the lead pirate suddenly forced to take responsibility for the son he abandoned. The whole Siren story is just so inane, though, that the poignancy of the father/son narrative gets completely overshadowed. The Doctor interprets events incorrectly over and over again, which is an approach that appears to good effect in a number of other stories but is mostly just annoying here. The usually delightful Ponds are reduced to yet another silly love triangle, this time with the mysterious Siren: Rory spends a significant amount of time being spellbound by her beauty, leading to extremely tiresome jealousy on Amy’s part. The Siren herself is sort of a fragmented version of the sexy nurse cliché; she spends part of the episode nurturing sick and injured pirates, and the rest of it trying to sensually lure men to their deaths, or at least so it seems. Nothing makes me quite as angry as Ursula the paving slab in “Love and Monsters,” but this episode probably spends a larger amount of time on sexist nonsense than any other in the reboot.

           There are some nice pieces of continuity here with the rest of the season; I like that a season in which magic eye patches are a major plot point has a pirate episode in it, and the episode provides one of several installments in the season’s thematic focus on the inseparability of parents and their children. Otherwise, though, this is an awfully pointless episode. C-

[urdu1official-blog]

Mujhe Jeenay Do Episode 1 Review – A Strong Beginning

Writer: Shahid Nizami Director: Angeline Malik Producers: Angelic Films & Center for Communication Programs Pakistan Schedule: Urdu 1 Every Monday at 8pm Follow us on Instagram :) I strongly believe that we simply cannot have enough dramas which highlight social issues and cause awareness among the masses regarding those evil practices which are rampant in some areas of our country and are accepted as normal. When such practices are so common and are endorsed by the community then sometimes the line between what’s right and what’s wrong gets blurred. This is the exactly the reason why mainstream media can play a major role in reminding the public that no matter how widely rampant an unjust practice is, it cannot possibly be accepted as the right course of action. Also, most importantly people like us who are fortunate enough to live in an environment which is completely different from the one shown in these dramas, get an insight into the problems faced by people (in this case especially women) who are living under such circumstances. Since dramas do not only give information but also have a story to tell therefore the viewers find it easier to relate to the sufferings of the characters. It is great to see our writers, directors, actors, producers and channels taking this initiative with the help of NGOs which are already doing a great deal to help the victims. This first episode of Mujhe Jeenay Do started with a wedding and ended with a funeral. In between the viewers were introduced to the main characters and tracks. Just like drama serial Sammi, this one too does not deal solely with one issue. Although the main subject of the drama is child marriage but different tracks in the story represent the struggles of women and even children on a different level. Malik Shehbaz represents the feudal system and how these feudals exercise power over their “subjects”. Shaheena (Mehreen Raheal) symbolizes all those women who are constantly abused by their husbands both physically and mentally but they always go back to them because they have accepted the treatment meted out to them as their fate. Bushra represented one of those women who do not get proper access to the kind of medical care needed at the time of pregnancy and as a result end up losing their lives. Even though Naseeb (Goher Rasheed) loved his wife and did whatever he thought he needed to do to look after her, he wasn’t informed enough to know that Bushra needed medical help from a professional. Bushra’s father (Salman Shahid) dialogues when he was talking to the midwife showed that taking women to the hospital wasn’t considered as a normal practice. Bushra was taken to the hospital only when it was too late and there was no other choice. Muhammadu (Sarmad Sultan Khoosat) and Murad (Ali Tahir) represent those men who are convinced that women are their property and they can treat them any way they want. This episode also showed how most women living in such areas fail to look after themselves. This first episode clearly gave the message that it was vital for women to take care of their own health and also protect themselves. Yasmin’s (Nadia Jamil) character is like Aalyan’s character in drama serial Sammi, she is the only one who is educated and she does whatever she can to help these women. Nadia Jamil chose the perfect project to make a comeback especially because this character is probably more in line with her actual personality as well. She is always raising her voice and taking practical initiatives to help people who are less fortunate especially children therefore Yasmin’s concern and love for all the people she was shown caring for was translated on screen effortlessly by her. The child star playing the role of Saira was beyond impressive in this first episode. I remember watching her in one of the episodes of KGBH and I am glad she was chosen to play this role. This first episode was fast-paced and impactful. It also had some impressive performances to its credit. Mehreen Raheal and Nadia Jamil’s comeback is remarkable. Mehreen Raheal’s outlook and accent was right on point although I believe this is the first time that she has chosen to play such a role. The first episode of Mujhe Jeenay Do started and ended on a high note. The variety of characters and tracks promises a journey which will have tons to offer. The fact that this drama has at least one strong female lead makes it even more appealing. I am looking forward to what Mujhe Jeenay Do has in store for the viewers.