Posts tagged Captain Jack Harkness
Warning: Mild spoilers
Torchwood: Miracle Day‘s seventh episode, “Immortal Sins,” is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. It’s an episode that finally feels like TORCHWOOD, is completely narratively cohesive within the episode, and it puts the plot into overdrive.
I’ll also note: I have loved Murray Gold and Stu Kennedy’s work on the series score and the music in the opening sequence is truly sublime.
Here’s the thing: the episode is almost exclusively composed of flashback sequences and scenes between Eve Myles and John Barrowman. Which does highlight the fact that Mekhi Phifer and Alexa Havins’ characters are still ancillary at best. Rex and Esther are warm bodies being shifted around the series like puppets. There’s no investment in them, there’s no reason to. If they wind up dead, I suppose most of the audience isn’t going to care. Which may not be a bad thing. If they don’t, then the next series had better figure out what the these characters are for and who they are. Espenson seems to have the surest grasp of that, and while they’re only in this episode briefly, the scenes count.
I’ve been unsure about Espenson’s take on Torchwood, although she has deftly inserted references to the first three series of the show, and Doctor Who. “Immortal Sins,” is the first time we see aliens, the first time we hear the Doctor referenced by name, and the first time the new viewers truly gets to understand exactly why there’s all this fuss about Jack’s mortality, including a scene that is really not for the faint of heart, shot partially from Jack’s POV.
While the end of “The Middle Men” (4×06) set up Gwen’s betrayal of Jack, here we’ve got flashbacks to 1927 New York alternating with Gwen and Jack in a car as she drives him to what she expects will be his death. Her family’s been taken and Gwen and Jack confront some hard truths. These are actors who know each other, characters who know each other, and they make the most brutal dialogue sing.
Gwen: “. . . This is about my daughter. . . And I swear, for her sake: I will see you killed like a dog in front of me if it means her back in my arms. Understood?”
Jack: “Understood. And let me tell you: now that I’m mortal, I’m gonna hang on to this with everything I’ve got. I love you Gwen Cooper, but I will rip the skin from your skull before I let you take this away from me. Understood?”
Gwen: ” Understood. I feel like I know you now, better than I’ve ever done before.”
Jack: “Yeah. Right at the end.”
Gwen: “Right at the end.”
These exchanges and the flashbacks showing Jack on assignment for Torchwood in 1927 New York, provide the proper context for Torchwood that we’ve only had in bits and pieces up until now.
From his meeting with young immigrant Angelo Colasanto (Daniele Favilli) on Ellis Island, through Jack’s inevitable departure, there are illuminating glimpses into why Jack is Jack. There is a glaring piece of discontinuity with Jack’s personal timeline, yet it’s less irritating than it should be due to the reason for it. Espenson has subtly acknowledged and resolved the lack of closure with the lost members of Torchwood, and I thank her for it. The audience needed to know that beloved characters weren’t disposable, and that comes through loud and clear. In his burgeoning relationship with Angelo and its conclusion, we see more of who Jack is than we have in a very long time.
What is most encouraging is that we finally get to understand the source of the, “Blessing,” even if we don’t quite know how it has turned into the, “Miracle,” or why Jack is now mortal.
There are still mysteries left to be solved, but this episode feels like we’re not going to be left hanging. It’s everything I’ve wanted from the entire series. Tight pacing, on point, well-acted and uncluttered. I think the next three episodes are going to be one hell of a ride.
Editor’s Note: This article was written as a collaboration between Kristen McHugh and Stephanie Wooten. We apologize for the length but we hope you enjoy the read and can provide your thoughts on this matter as well. Kristen did an amazing job putting together our hodge-podge of ideas so at the very least it deserves a read because of Kristen’s awesome writing skills. Thanks!
Warning: If you’ve never seen Torchwood or been on the internet with Torchwood fans. . . you know the drill.
Let’s begin at the beginning: Stephanie and I came to Torchwood in different ways. I came into it from the BBC America premiere, as an avid Whovian. Stephanie stumbled into the TW: CoE panel at SDCC 2008, already familiar with Captain Jack Harkness from Doctor Who, but not aware of how much darker its spin-off was, or would become.
No, this is not another rant about Ianto. Well, it is a little bit. Creators have the right to determine what happens and what’s at stake in their universes. Taking the whims of fandom into account is a recipe for disaster and can shred the creative vision faster than a piranha shreds a steak.
And yet. . . creating successful television for the long-term necessitates knowing your audience, persuading them to invest in each season and getting them to tell their friends. If you’ve got a finite story to tell, then you know how long you’re hoping they invest. If you haven’t got a set endpoint for the narrative, the trick is keeping it both fresh and familiar.
Russell T. Davies would be right if he said that Torchwood: Children of Earth was the most successful series of TW to date. He’d also be guilty of profound disingenuousness if he ascribed that purely to the TW: CoE narrative. The format helped to keep the audience hooked. It’s a lot easier to keep an audience interested for five straight days than it is to keep them coming back each week over three months. There’s data on all TW series to date, but – check out one of only TWO negative reviews: Ginia Bellafante apparently JUST HATES GEEKY THINGS. Here’s also a link to nielsen data.
To give CoE credit: it was brilliant storytelling. Tightly-paced, relentlessly tense narrative full of moral complexity and a lot of living in shades of grey, rather than black and white. That doesn’t mean Davies didn’t break his fanbase, and I know a number of people who won’t be back for Miracle Day.
Much has been made of the Jack/Ianto fangirls/shippers and how they represent the, “Broken (fan)base,” of Torchwood. The thing is, while they’ve been the most vocal, they’re not alone in being broken. Some of us just have slightly different rationales for why investing in Miracle Day seems risky.
This is what Stephanie and I decided to hash out: Why did we feel betrayed by Russell T. Davies? What could have been done differently to keep from alienating fans? Should it have been done differently?
Via twitter, email and text, we’ve given a lot of thought to this. What we’ve concluded is pretty simple: Davies keeps killing off the people we’re supposed to be invested in, but never lets us mourn. This is a bad practice in a period of downturn in the fortunes of genre programming in general. Outside of Syfy, (which has axed BSG/Caprica/SGA) there’s not a lot of sci-fi & fantasy genre programming on the air at the moment. Yes, we have Supernatural, Fringe, True Blood, & Game of Thrones (not counting the few remaining SyFy original programs) but when one considers the large number of television stations and countless hours of programming, it seems to be a pretty small number in comparison to the number of criminal procedurals and/or reality shows. Only a few genre-related pilots were picked up by the networks. Outside of premium or dedicated cable channels, Doctor Who is the only consistently performing or growing show in the genre category. As geeks, we’d like to see more quality genre programming and we’d like it to last more than a few episodes.
Returning to TW, yes, people die in real life. Yes, characters die in fiction. However, there is something to be said for acknowledging that a character not only means something to the people in-universe, but to the audience. RTD hasn’t given his audience that chance as seems clear in multiple interviews.
Stephanie and I both have two huge sticking points, beyond Davies’ tendency to gloss over the value of the audience when speaking to the press.
1. In-universe grief is where?
2. When the only way to raise the stakes is killing characters, how hard are you really trying?
There are times when a senseless death that comes out of nowhere works in a narrative. Joss Whedon is a master of this. Joyce Summers’ (Kristine Sutherland) death led to one of the most powerful examinations of mortality in a universe where death and risk was a constant. “The Body” is starkly powerful, and I (Kristen) have had a similar experience in real life. That episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer devastated me. Just as it devastated the characters and the audience.
Mini-spoiler alert: If you have not seen Serenity or later seasons of Buffy, skip the next paragraph.
Tara Maclay’s (Amber Benson) death is another example of BtVS dealing with the aftermath of a senseless and unintended death. The metaphor may not have been perfectly executed but Willow’s extreme anger at the world over the loss of a loved one is a common reaction to death (see: Xander punching the wall in “The Body”). Hoban “Wash” Washburne’s (Alan Tudyk) death in Serenity further illustrates that it is entirely possible to kill a beloved character for absolutely no reason and have it work.