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The new Who

The newly revamped classic BBC sci-fi series finally launched on Saturday night and I was, naturally, at the TV like a shot. For all the money poured into the production it felt rather tame compared to the Who of Thoughtcat’s youth (which is saying something, as “my” Doctor was Peter Davison), and it did try a bit too hard to be trendy. That said, respectively, an attack of faceless child mannequins was fairly unnerving, and the Beeb could have done (and indeed have done) a whole lot worse than Christopher Eccleston as the new Who and Billie “Second Billie of the Day [sic]” Piper as his Lovely Assistant. The peppering of the script with essential Who factoids (what TARDIS stands for, the fact that it’s bigger on the inside than out, the sonic screwdriver etc etc) also grated a bit, but then the BBC are looking for a new audience and I should hand it to writer Russell T. Davies for managing to both entertain and give everyone a crash course on all things Who in the space of less than an hour. It’s good to hear that the Daleks will return at some point, although the news that “this time they can fly” surely represents a fundamental misconception of what Dr Who is all about: the whole point of the Daleks is that they couldn’t climb stairs! It was one of their main weaknesses! It’s a bit like revamping Superman without the Kryptonite.

I thought Ecclestone was a good choice for the new Doctor, as the BBC’s increasing dependence on unheard-of whacky oddballs to portray him, culminating in the preposterous Sylvester McCoy, was one of the reasons the series self-destructed in the late 80s. No doubt our friends in the north (ho ho!) are happy to finally have a Doctor not sporting a Home Counties accent, and the pairing of the Mancunian with Piper, a Londoner, is inspired. It was also good to see the sense of humour (another Who essential) in evidence, such as when Ecclestone tore the head off a malignant plastic alien, and found time in the ensuing chaos to grin broadly at the grotesque object in his hands. It was in fact something of a revelation to see Ecclestone smile at all – the Doctor may actually be the first role which has ever made such a demand on the notoriously intense actor. Maybe this series will give him some practice, and he’ll go on to play other smiling parts on the big screen in the future? I sincerely hope so.

On the whole I enjoyed the first episode and don’t plan to be anywhere other than in front of the box at 7pm for the next several Saturdays. I hope it gets scarier, though.

‘Sad am I’

A nice article in Saturday’s Guardian Review on a new book about Billie Holiday:

In November 1956, Holiday was interviewed by Tex McCreary. She sounds heavy with alcohol and whatever drugs she might have been using, and the conversation is slow and awkward. The interviewer obviously feels it’s no good going on with the questions and she was in no fit state to sing, but he has a sudden inspiration. He asks her to recite one of her songs. “I want you to close your eyes, Billie,” he says, “and speak the words like a poet. What about ‘Yesterdays’?”

Without a moment’s hesitation she does what she has been told to do. She recites the words with an almost unbearable languor, but with all the power and authority of a great theatrical monologue. Her voice sounds like a song, so musical in its resonances that as you listen you seem to hear a band playing with her:

Yesterdays,

Days I knew as happy sweet,

Sequestered days,

Olden days, golden days,

Days of mad romance and love.

Then gay youth was mine,

Truth was mine,

Joyous free and flaming life,

Forsooth were mine.

Sad am I, glad am I,

For today I’m dreaming of,

Yesterdays…

Go to the cinema and end up the star of your personal film

An amusing report from today’s Times on the latest cinematic craze in Japan: “Queuing outside what appears to be an ordinary cinema, members of the audience are invited to place their faces into a hole in the wall for a few seconds. High-resolution digital cameras perform a quick scan from several angles, and everyone takes their seats. The animated film, with the quality of Shrek or Toy Story, begins as normal but the entire cast is made up of walking, talking digital replicas of people in the audience. A grandmother in the second row was surprised to discover that her screen persona was a space commando, barking out orders to a squadron that comprised her daughter-in-law and a young couple in the fourth row…”

It ain’t me, babe

The Independent reports today: “It ain’t me, babe. Bob Dylan to be played by a woman in his life story“. Could Bob be exploring his feminine side as he approaches 60 and looks back over his myriad relationships, which, as he once sang, “have all been bad”? The recent photo of him with Jessica Lange from the preview of his new film Masked and Anonymous, wherein he sported a long fringe of blonde hair, would perhaps bear this out.

From the London Stop the War march

The Stop the War march today was truly amazing. It was only the third march I’ve ever been on (the first being immediately after September 11th when we were all terrified the US would lash out in retaliation, and the second last autumn, also against the impending war). My wife and I got to the Embankment at about 2pm and shuffled along with the good-humoured and highly cosmopolitan crowd, a great swathe of ages, backgrounds and political persuasions. There was a fantastic sense of humour present on the placards people were holding, such as a picture of Bush with his head split open in Monty Python fashion and an arrow pointing in saying EMPTY WAR-HEAD, a wooden placard stick with BUSH IS A PLANK written on it, and a picture of Blair’s face with his eyes replaced with Bush’s and the slogan BLUSH. This image was a very shrewd revamping of the old Tory “demon eyes” campaign, where Blair’s eyes were replaced with the Devil’s during the 1997 general election. We all thought that was very tacky scare-mongering at the time, but who’s the tacky scare-mongerer now, eh?

I attach a few photos, including some from Hyde Park. We got there too late for the speeches, partly because we stopped into a café in St Martin’s to thaw out after the 90-minute trudge from Embankment to Trafalgar Square. By the time we got to the rallying point it was nearly dark and there were all these little groups of people huddling around tiny bonfires they’d made from placards and leaflets to ward off the bitter cold. Overall it was a very positive day. I carried a “Not in my name” placard all the way home and two complete strangers stopped me to chat for a moment about the march, both of them supportive and one of them saying he was from an army family but still disagreed with taking military action on this occasion. Surely I was dreaming – strangers? Talking to each other?? In England??? It’ll be highly ironic if this (potential) war ends up bringing people together more effectively than politicians ever could.

Make tea not war placard
Make tea not war placard
Buddhists for Peace
Buddhists for Peace
Protest debris along the Victoria Embankment
Protest debris along the Victoria Embankment
Placard inserted into Whitehall statue
Placard inserted into Whitehall statue
Even the Trafalgar square lions are in on the act
Even the Trafalgar square lions are in on the act
A couple huddle round an improvised fire of protest debris in Hyde Park
A couple huddle round an improvised fire of protest debris in Hyde Park