söndag 28 november 2010

Do we need yet another take on "A Christmas Carol"?

As established in the previous blog entry, The Doctor and Dickens make a great duo. So why am I not 100% excited by the news that the Doctor Who Christmas Special will contain references to "A Christmas Carol"? Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm a little tired of "A Christmas Carol".

The two most famous and most read works by Dickens are probably "Oliver Twist" and "A Christmas Carol". I know it could be great deal worse. These are good stories. It would have been terrible if Dickens would have been chiefly famous for, say, "Martin Chuzzlewit". Still, "Twist" and "Carol" leave people with the impression that Dickens was first and foremost a Great Revealer of Social Ills, who wrote about poor folk, preferably orphans. Dickens did rail against (real and perceived) social ills, but this is only one aspect of his writing, and in my view not the best or the most interesting one. His books aren't rag-fests at all: they mostly have middle-class settings and middle-class main characters, who are more psychologically complex than people realise. We hear a lot about Dickensian "grotesques", but it is not the quirks that make a Dickens character interesting, but the personality that lies beneath. This is the author who said the last word on bitterness and what it does to you, but what is he known as? Someone who wrote about ragged, implausibly good children, who may or may not die.

What I like about "A Christmas Carol" is the fact that Scrooge's redemption is the most important thing in it. The ghosts don't haunt him for the sake of Bob Cratchit, or of Tiny Tim, or of any deserving poor who will benefit from his change of heart and sudden generosity. They haunt him for his own sake, to save his soul. The idea of redeeming someone by showing him glimpses of his past, present and future is pure genius, which is probably why the story has such potency and why there are so many versions of it about. There is also a hint of the old Dickensian "bitterness is bad for you" theme: Scrooge must learn not only to defeat his greed, but also his cynicism and misanthropy. Nevertheless, those who see "Carol" as a straightforward morality tale about how how we must be nice to the needy, especially at Christmas, are not that far wrong. Dickens's Christmas books generally are more sugary, more moralistic and more psychologically simplistic than his novels, and "Carol" suffers from this too. For one thing, Scrooge cracks far too easily: the first Christmas spirit already has him blubbing. And how did Mr Fezziwig's jolly apprentice become so cold and hard-hearted? We never get a satisfactory explanation. I read a short story sequel to "Carol" (included in the anthology "Death by Dickens") by Lillian Stewart Carl, where it is revealed that Mr Fezziwig's firm failed. Now that would explain a lot, wouldn't it? But it isn't in the original story. Dickens can do bitterness in his sleep, but like many authors he is less convincing on greed: it doesn't seem to be a very inspiring vice.

But the main problem with "A Christmas Carol" is something it can't help: it has become over-familiar. We have had countless straightforward film and TV adaptions, musical adaptations, stage adaptations, a version set in modern times, a Disney version, a muppet version, a Blackadder version were the central character goes from good to bad instead of the other way around (not that funny actually), a romcom version, and a flood of other popular culture references. I have read comics where both Peg-Leg Pete and The Big Bad Wolf get the Scrooge treatment, though with indifferent success. The only other story that gets rehashed almost as often at Christmas time is "It's a Wonderful Life", which also, to give it its due, has a great premise. (It would be fun, once in a while, if a bad character got the you-have-never-been-born-treatment instead of the ghosts. In many instances, life would not turn out better for the good characters if their nemesis did not exist: quite the reverse.)

In a word, we could need a little rest from "A Christmas Carol". Why not give "The Haunted Man", another Christmas book by Dickens, a try? It is bleak at times, but it all turns out well in the end. I'm not sure I buy the argument - that the bad things that happen to us make us better people and are a crucial part of the web of life - but it is forcefully argued all the same. I'd give "The Chimes" a miss, though.

söndag 14 november 2010

Who's the geek? I am!

Yes, I know, I know. I'm overdue for a blog entry on books, instead of on TV. But that would give the impression that I've spent a lot of my free time lately reading. I haven't. Instead, I've been watching the new "Doctor Who" series, as unable as ever to save a few episodes up, knowing it will be a long stretch before any new ones come along. The box set arrived Wednesday, and I've already bolted down all 13 episodes.

Just what is it that makes this series so addictive? An interesting central character helps. Mind you, it's not that I'm a blind devotee of the Doctor. It's hard not to like this amiable alien, but he is contradictory to say the least. One minute, he is acting like the bodyguard of the human race and grimly blasting our enemies to kingdom come; the next he's acting as a kind of Alien Rights ambassador and appears to be deeply chocked over our lack of fellow-feeling towards other species. At one time, he's full of admiration for human endeavour and inventiveness; at another, he's doing the tiresome Superior Species Turn well-known from other sci-fi shows and seems to despise us. In one episode he shows a definite streak of cruelty, and that's fine, because after all he is an alien; only a few episodes further along the way, he does the annoying hippie-dippy no-guns-no-salutes-act. Come again? I bet The Family of Blood ("We wanted to live forever... So the Doctor made sure that we did") would welcome a nice, clean bullet through the heart just about now. However, this complexity is no bad thing. It keeps you on your toes, trying to figure out who the Doctor really is.

The new one, Matt Smith, isn't at all bad. He does the nutty professor part of the character very well and looks the part. He can't do the rattling-off-brilliant-ideas-at-the-top-of-his-head-at-lightning-speed part as well as David Tennant, but on the plus side, much of the swollen-headedness which became a problem with the Tenth Doctor is gone. By the time of the fourth series, the Doctor had become something of an insufferable know-it-all, always moral and always right and the hippie-dippy element lamentably strong. Also, Russell T Davies (the head script-writer during Tennant's time, and very good he was too) piled on the Messianic references a bit thick. The Doctor is a very nice Time Lord, but he's not the Messiah. The Eleventh Doctor seems more aware of his limitations in comparison. It doesn't stop David Tennant from being a great Doctor and a hard act to follow, but I think my favourite (and I've only watched the new series, so I only have three Docs to choose from) is Christopher Eccleston. He did the "Boo hoo I'm all alone and the last of my species" scenes with much more conviction than his successors: his was a plausibly sad and angry Doctor who was not too peace-and-lovey to charge up at one time to the (as he thought) last Dalek in the Universe and point at it with a GREAT BIG GUN.

So, complex central character, good. The sidekicks aren't bad either, and the script is continually intelligent and witty. Plus, of course, there's time travel. The Doctor meets Madame de Pompadour! And Shakespeare! And Dickens! There's also a sense of up-beatness to the series, even if some of the scenarios from the future aren't that rosy, and we know everything will go to pot three hundred billion years from now. Three hundred billion years is a long time, after all. This up-beatness and the warmth between the main characters are what's missing from the misery-laden "Torchwood", which I couldn't get through the first series of, even though it's a Doctor Who spin-off. As far as "Torchwood" is concerned, life's a bitch and then you die and then after-life's a bitch. ("There's something out there in the dark and it's moving" - because "it all goes black" wasn't depressing enough, apparently.) In "Doctor Who", by contrast, there's always a sense of hope.

Another aspect I like about "Doctor Who", and what I believe got me hooked in the first place, is the "what's wrong with this picture?" element. An adventure starts out, and everything seems fine. Then, increasingly, strange things start to happen, and the Doctor and his companion du jour have to try to figure out which peril they are facing this time. It's a kind of crime story element, similar to when a witness says "Of course... that was strange" and goes on to reveal a detail you can't at first make sense of. That's a reason why I like "introducing a companion" episodes, which start out as a day in the life of a typically gutsy girl and then get weirder and weirder, or "dystopian society" episodes, where humans trudge on and seem to live ordinary lives - adaptable as we are - in a setting which gets more sinister by the minute.

All right, enough geeky gushing, and believe me, you haven't heard half of it - as for instance why it doesn't much matter that a lot of the aliens are quite naff (the Slitheen were a real low point). Let me just finish with this memorable exchange from the Dickens episode "The Unquiet Dead".

DICKENS: My books... Will they last?
DOCTOR: Oh yes.
DICKENS: How long?
DOCTOR (beaming): Forever.

Aaah. One can't not love an alien like that.

söndag 7 november 2010

The "From Lark Rise to Candleford" drinking game

Yay, finally - Amazon is sending me my "Doctor Who" box set ten days early! Am I looking forward to it: the preachiness of "Fame", the clevery camouflaged right-on-ness of "The West Wing" and the sheer length of "North and South" (US civil war version) are beginning to pall. As to English series, there is very little going on at the moment. But Swedish TV is sending "From Lark Rise to Candleford", and I suppose one has to be grateful to be able to watch any costume drama at all.

"Lark Rise" is not really a favourite series of mine, but it has its charm. This is a series which lives on its cosiness. Inserting any "darkness" to speak of would be fatal. It's what you see on a dark Monday night when you're feeling exhausted and a little depressed and are not up for any intellectual challenges. Once in a while, the series throws in a plot line which is not entirely predictable and exceeds my expectations - which admittedly are not that high. A well-known trick is to suddenly flesh out the emotional life on one of its paper-thin characters. Nevertheless, very much remains the same in both Lark Rise and Candleford. I've heard of "drinking games" being constructed around series like "Friends", when you're supposed to take a drink every time a particular event takes place - when a character displays a certain mannerism, say, or uses a certain catch phrase. "Lark Rise" seems an ideal candidate for a game like that. Please take a drink every time:

1) Laura intones something ominous in the voice-over which starts and ends every episode, though no great momentous change is in fact forthcoming

2) Miss Lane dispenses good advice with a brave smile

3) Miss Lane puts someone in their place with a triumphant smile (not unlike the brave one)

4) Twister does something kooky

5) Thomas Brown says something supposedly pious but trite with somewhat fake fervour ("It is our CHRISTIAN DUTY to take out the trash" say - not that he's said that yet)

6) The Pratt sisters show up in matching over-the-top clothes

7) The Pratt sisters spread malicious gossip or complain about the service at the post office

8) Laura flirts with someone who is not her childhood sweetheart Alfie

9) Mrs Arless fritters away money with some jolly "seize the day" excuse

10) In the first season: Sir Timothy very inappropriately confides in Miss Lane about his marriage problems, or his wife stalks jealously out after having caught him being over-friendly to Miss Lane

11) In the second season: Mr Dowland is spooning around and not daring to confess his love to Miss Lane

12) Laura's proud artisan father is grumbling over some perceived slight or voicing opinions which make him sound like the most left-wing 19th century "liberal" you are likely to meet anywhere

I could go on. I suppose the familiarity adds to the cosiness factor of the series, but it also makes it suffer from the "status quo syndrome". In one episode, Miss Lane fell passionately in love with a radical school teacher, but when he was sacked and had to move away, she didn't move away with him. Why not? Lately, Laura's latest flame has left town, and she doesn't follow him. Again, why not?? At least Miss Lane is the proprietor of a post office which she has inherited by her father: Laura had nothing to keep her, except a decent-ish job - and the status quo rule. The series relies on Miss Lane and Laura staying where they are and continuing to do exactly what they are doing, which means their romance prospects are severy limited. You find the same kind of thing in other series: it's no surprise, for instance, that every single time one of the students in "Fame" goes to an audition which could mean his/her big break, he/she blows it. Well naturally: if they made it, they would have to leave the school - and the series. The series which suffered most from the status quo syndrome, as I remember, was "Doctor Bramwell": not only could she not find love until the series was over, not even her nurse was allowed to walk down the aisle. The only one who braved the Bramwell curse was the doctor's charming dad, who found a new wife: this change actually improved the series and got it out of a depressing "Doctor Bramwell has good intentions but messes up" phase. There's a lesson there somewhere: a bit of change now and then does no harm to a series. In the next episode of "Lark Rise", Mr Dowland apparently finally proposes to Miss Lane. This could be the start of a new era where Miss Lane and Mr Dowland take on the challenges of a shared life. Or not. I'm not holding my breath.