The Bubble Television: The End of Torchwood?

Originally published in The Bubble Television, September 18th 2011, available here.

When Queen Victoria set up the Torchwood Institute following a nasty encounter with a werewolf and a Timelord, it’s highly unlikely that she foresaw what it, or the series which followed its agents, would become. To many, despite its mixed critical reception, Torchwood became the supposedly “grown-up” counterpart to Dr Who, with all the violence and swearing that the latter couldn’t show and darker, often shocking storylines. To me, it was that show that I always intended to watch, but was always on at the same time as something else. It was only with the excellent (but equally divisive) 2009 mini-series Children of Earth that I was finally converted: it’s rare that a writer has the balls to have their hero sacrifice his own young grandson, and Torchwood was a glowing example of what British sci-fi could be.

That said, I was slightly apprehensive when series four, Miracle Day, was announced, mostly because of the additional funding from American premium network Starz. After all, you should never trust a company that thinks a plural should end with a “z”. Worse, as with the current series of Dr Who, fans feared that the need to appeal to US audiences would detract from the inherent Britishness (or Welshness) which made previous series so unique. It has to be said, though, that the alternative was to have no Torchwood at all, and I for one am very glad of the decision that was made.

Miracle Day was a fascinating concept: death, the only certainty in the world, is removed, and the goalposts of life suddenly shift. Religions collapse, while new ones are formed; welfare systems and economies crumble as the population soars; the human race stoops to unprecedented depths. In exploring these avenues, it excelled. Where it failed, I would argue, was in forging a narrative which brought them together into a satisfying whole. As the final episode ended this week, I couldn’t help but feel that ten weeks of emotional investment and sacrificed Thursday nights had gone to waste.

Until about episode seven (‘Immortal Sins’), I sang the praises of this series. It portrays a race trying and failing to adjust to a new form of existence, where the justice system falls into chaos because murder cannot exist, and healthcare is stretched until people must be treated like cattle to be treated at all. Eventually, bureaucracy categorises people according to exactly how alive they are, until “overflow camps”, a conveniently sterile term for concentration camps, are established to incinerate those who should have died. It’s harrowing, and the Holocaust analogies are difficult to miss, but most disturbing is the logic with which horror follows horror until the world learns what goes on in the camps – and accepts it as a necessity. I actually understood how humanity had reached that point, and Torchwood forced its viewers to confront the dark side of human nature in ways that few other shows could get away with, much less at 9pm on BBC One.

Against the backdrop of the decline of civilisation it takes sharply drawn characters to hold any attention at all, but Miracle Day managed that too: Gwen Cooper (Eve Myles) has turned into what can only be described as ‘a total bad-ass’ over the past couple of series, and alongside Captain Jack Harkness (John Barrowman) she holds the entire series together. In keeping with the decay of humanity, however, the friends find themselves in positions they could never have predicted. In an impressive character piece, Gwen kidnaps Jack as a ransom for her family; out comes all of her bitterness, self-loathing and resentment, met by his cocktail of guilt, self-loathing and self-preservation. Ultimately, though, it’s Myles’ party: Gwen’s hard edges protect the core of a wife and mother, and the fact that her willingness to kill doesn’t make her a monster to us is remarkable.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, this would have been my summary of the whole series. Fantastic performances and quality writing, setting very personal drama in the context of apocalyptic chaos; friendships, love stories (including a touching homosexual relationship between Jack and his Depression-era lover Angelo), family tensions and politics in the foreground of a landscape of universal suffering. But things changed as the final few episodes brought the various plot threads together – or rather, didn’t.

We know that there is a huge chasm called The Blessing going through the core of the earth from Shanghai to Buenos Aires, which somehow calibrates the life spans of humans. We know that Jack’s immortal blood was fed to it by the mysterious Families who ‘bought’ him decades ago, making humans immortal. What we don’t know is how it works, why it’s there or what the Families are actually trying to achieve, which are all pretty major questions. What exactly are they planning to do when they’ve gained control of the planet?

And what about Oswald Danes? Bill Pullman has pulled out one of his finest performances as convicted murderer and all-round nasty piece of work Danes, who survives his lethal injection and becomes a bizarre poster-boy for the redemptive power of the Miracle. Jack becomes obsessed with tracking him down, is convinced that he is somehow at the centre of everything… and in the final episode, he turns him into a suicide bomber. His death is finally voluntary, but it comes at a point where it’s lost amongst the action and means very little. In fact, if his entire character was removed from the plot it would still hold together perfectly well, which leaves him as nothing but wasted potential.

Critics have thrown many complaints at this series, but most of them matter very little. I don’t care that there are no aliens involved: to say that sci-fi needs to be extra-terrestrial is just plain wrong. It makes no difference whatsoever that it doesn’t cohere with events in Dr Who. More serious are the loose ends which are never tied up. I don’t know what would constitute a worthy conclusion to a drama on such a massive scale, but it isn’t what we were given – and this was only exacerbated by the potential for a sequel suggested in the final scenes. Nevertheless, until its disappointing resolution, Torchwood was an absorbing study of a race in crisis, and by far the best thing I’ve seen all summer.

The Bubble Columns- President Cowboy

Originally published online in The Bubble Columns, available here.

You may not have heard of Robert Burck. You may not care about his politics. But if you’ve been to New York, you may know him as the Naked Cowboy. The busker has been entertaining the masses with the strategic aid of Y-fronts, Stetson and guitar long enough to be part of the city’s furniture- but it would appear he has aspirations to more than just his local fame. He’s standing for office.

Yes, you read that correctly. Burck has cut his hair and not only dressed but suited up to announce his intention to run for President. He plans to run as a candidate for staunchly conservative, anti-establishment activists the Tea Party. He also insists there will be nothing “cowboy” about his policies. And no, I did not make that up.

Despite such questions as “Are you wearing a codpiece?” and numerous enquiries as to the location of his usual Y-fronts, Burck insisted that there was “no time for games” when announcing his plans at a news conference in New York. Apparently, "America is rapidly transforming into a government-run enterprise… American politicians are selling out America and its most cherished institution, that being capitalism." His policies, he also declared, will include the closure of America’s borders, the abolition of trade unions for government workers and compulsory drug tests for welfare claimants. Human rights, it would appear, he’ll worry about later.

It makes sense that economic views like his would align with the Tea Party- a loose group of right-wing activists formed amid a swell of protest at government bail-outs of failing companies such as banks and insurers, objecting to what they perceive as the erosion of capitalist society (which is, of course, perfect, and never did anyone any harm). Most Republicans, they feel, have become too moderate. Though the Tea Party is steadfastly focussed on economic policy, many members are deeply socially conservative too, and Burck’s ideology is likely to appeal in this regard as well.

What’s more, there’s a strong desire within the group to bring fresh blood into politics and throw out many of the old, established faces. For all his attempts to get serious, someone known as being so different to the mostly sombre, complacent and indeed clothed past inhabitants of the White House appeals to the same vein of rebellion that made Brits get Killing In The Name to Christmas number 1 (what was that about doing what they told you, again?)

Living in the country which produced the Monster Raving Loony Party, bizarre politics is a part of life. I’m endlessly entertained by Boris Johnson. America’s political celebrity culture is far more pronounced than Britain’s, but I didn’t even lose the will to live when Paris Hilton attempted to stand for President (though if I were American, that may not have been the case). Burck’s career change is a classic case of what I termed in last week’s column the “Schwarzenegger effect”: a (sort of) celebrity using his (sort of) fame to propel him to (unlikely) political success. He’s sort of like a cross between the bloke with the accordion on Framwellgate Bridge and Kilroy, but with a better tan.

The Naked Cowboy has clearly harboured political aspirations for a while- he announced plans to run for Mayor of New York before dropping out of the race in 2009. Maybe he thought about the incumbent Michael Bloomberg and decided that that town wasn’t big enough for the both of them. In any case, it will be interesting to see how he does in his campaign- though Obama, despite his current problems, is still looking good for a second term, this is the nation that voted George Dubya Bush into office (well, debatably- right, Florida?), and the Killing in the Name effect can be powerful. He might not stroll into Washington, but he may do better than we expect.

The Bubble Columns: The Cult of Putin

Orignially published on my column in The Bubble, available here.


My favourite piece of news this week may not have been the most publicised, but it was definitely among the strangest. A group of journalism students at Moscow State University, in praise of Prime Minister Vladimir Putin on his 58^th birthday, have produced an erotic calendar featuring female students. Positioned next to such captions as “You put out forest fires, but I’m still burning” (sexy, I know), the girls are pouting and wearing lingerie in the “Vladimir Vladimirovich, we love you” calendar which will apparently be sold in Moscow supermarkets.

I admit from the outset that I’m no expert on Russian politics, but I know that it can seem weird at the best of times. Putin has published his own calendars featuring his shirtless self on horseback, at the controls of a helicopter, and in other generally manly poses, and it’s well known that he is still unbelievably popular. After his two terms as President, under Russian law he could not stand for a third - so he ran for Prime Minister, won by a good margin, and has proceeded to act as the power behind the presidency ever since. Since he’s eligible to run for President again in 2012, Miss February’s (supposedly) suggestive slogan “How about a third time?” shows that he’ll definitely get at least one vote.

Can you imagine a bunch of Labour activists doing this for Gordon Brown? “How about another term, but this time we vote for you?”  Russia appears to have allowed Putin to put himself on a pedestal right at the pinnacle of celebrity culture. The question is, whether it’s his political status that keeps him famous, or his fame that keeps him so popular in politics (affectionately known as the Schwarzenegger effect).  The former is possible - he has a reputation for strength and resilience and plays on nationalist tendencies effectively, holding his own against Europe and the USA. If the latter is true, he’s approximately a sex-tape away from world domination. It’s probably a mixture of the two, but if the next suspect link your mate sends you is entitled “One Night in Vladimir” you should be very worried.

Less surprising was the response to the calendar - in fact, I’m surprised it wasn’t produced first: another group of female students have made a calendar of their own. “Vladimir Vladimirovich, we have some questions…” instead features girls posing with tape over their mouths in protest at the alleged silencing of political dissidents. Captions included “Who killed Anna Politkovskaya?” referring to the unexplained death of the journalist, one of the Kremlin’s loudest critics, four years ago. Not quite as good a present for poor Vladimir, but probably quite important.

It’s easy to laugh so much at Putin’s idolisation that we forget the dissent he faces. Alleged political assassinations, illegal detention and the regime of a former KGB man do seem to fit unsettlingly together. The bizarre 2006 murder by radiation poisoning (of all things?) of Alexander Litvinenko in London  is one of many controversies which has refused to fade away - especially since Litvinenko had sought asylum in Britain, after accusing his superiors in the secret service of such murders; significantly, he had named Putin himself as having ordered Politkovskaya’s death. At least Paris Hilton’s biggest crime was only House of Wax.

It would seem that he has a lot to answer for, but it's doubtful he plans to do so. In the meantime, challenging him and the authorities still seems a risky business in Russia, and it’s quite alarming that one man can have such a hold on power, both within the political regime and informally through the media. The calendar war this week is part of a broader propaganda war which, though existing in and across every political arena, seems heightened around this one man.

The first part of this ‘take a random news story and ramble about it’ column, then, leaves me scratching my head at political celebrity and Putin’s grip on the Russian mind. Happy birthday, Mr Putin. Enjoy your calendar. But a few people might like some answers.