Ben Paddon

Category: Rants

  • Whovie

    An example of exactly the sort of thing that should never, ever happen.

    There has been a lot of talk over the last few years about a potential Doctor Who movie. Rather a lot of people seem to think this is an absolutely terrible idea, and given the track record I don’t particularly blame them.

    Perhaps even worse is that the potential for a Doctor Who movie to be an awful mess is not only a worst-case scenario for fans, but also a very real possibility: Last year Harry Potter director David Yates claimed he was actively working on a Doctor Who movie that would be starting “from scratch,” and the year before that Russell T Davies shot down a rumour that Johnny Depp would be starring in a movie as a version of the Doctor, travelling around the world, curing diseases and fighting Daleks.

    Adding insult to injury, I recall reading somewhere that Davies actually liked the idea proposed by the rumour, though I can’t find anything about that online. If the man responsible for Doctor Who‘s triumphant return truly believes that such an awful, awful idea is actually worthy of consideration, then the good Doctor’s cinematic future does not look especially bright.

    We all know what the fans want – they want something connected to the TV show. They want something that serves connects to the series in much the same way the X-Files movie was a part of the TV show continuity (though X-Files: Fight the Future might not be the best example). They want a movie featuring the current Doctor, whomever that may be at the time, ad his current companions.

    That’s a pretty good list – and we know it’s good, because current showrunner Steven Moffat wants exactly the same thing – but the fans probably wouldn’t stop there. They’d likely want to see some, or all, of the Doctor’s greatest foes – the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Master, the Sontarans, the Weeping Angels, the Silurians, the Ice Warriors. They’d probably want to see multiple incarnations of the Doctor. They’d want something rife with canon ejaculate, a celebration of everything Doctor Who is.

    Which is entirely the wrong way to go with it.

    Too many cooks spoil the plot.

    Let’s face it, if fans got everything they wanted we’d probably end up with something not too dissimilar from “The Five Doctors”, which is a fun story but not especially well-written, or something along the lines of “The Stolen Earth”/”Journey’s End,” which is a tangled mess of comic-book style crossover that lacks a good pay-off and isn’t able to properly accommodate all of the characters that have been shoehorned into the narrative.

    So, what’s the logical middle-ground? A Doctor Who movie would need to be big bold, brash and every bit the spectacle of the television series, existing within the continuity of the television series but not necessarily drawing heavily from it so as to serve as a jumping-on point for potential newcomers. It would need to stand alone as a story, basically, complete with a unique villain or threat that hadn’t been seen in the television series before.

    Basically, it would need the same approach that Moffat takes to writing his Christmas specials.

    Steven Moffat has commented on the structure of the Christmas stories; that you have to write for a different audience when writing for a show that’s going out on Christmas day – the core of the Doctor as a man who arrives in the TARDIS and fixes things must be preserved, but beyond that the story needs to work for people who have never seen the show before. Great Christmas television takes precedence over a great episode of Doctor Who, and while some of the best Doctor Who stories include episodes like “The Christmas Invasion” and “The Next Doctor”, one cannot argue that these do not make for especially good Christmas day viewing to anyone who isn’t already a fan of the series.

    This wouldn’t make for a good movie either, to be honest.

    Obviously I’m not suggesting that a Doctor Who movie be a Christmas affair or be devoid of scifi elements, and obviously Moffat’s Christmas offerings so far have been far from feature quality (the only Christmas special I think would make a halfway decent movie is probably “Voyage of the Damned”, which isn’t even the best Christmas special), but I feel Moffat’s approach to the Christmas episodes would be ideal for a feature film. Fuse that with the sort of storytelling we saw in “The Pandorica Opens”/”The Big Bang” or “Silence in the Library”/”Forest of the Dead” and I think we’d have a pretty solid Doctor Who movie on our hands.

    Just don’t let David Yates anywhere near it. Please. For the love of Glod.

  • Tediculous

    Oh dear. It turns out Seth Macfarlane’s new movie, Ted, bears some similarity to a webcomic called “Imagine This“, leading cartoonist Lucas Turnbloom to believe he’s the victim of a rather unfortunate case of plagiarism. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sam Logan of “Sam and Fuzzy” also believes Ted may be in part based on his comic. Oh no! That dastardly Seth Macfarlane. He thinks he can just take ideas he likes just because he’s preposterously rich, incredibly famous, and occasionally brilliant? The nerve of some people.

    My problem with all this, besides my unfortunate use of the word “bears” in the previous paragraph, is that I’m not terribly convinced that Ted is based on either of these comics in any way, shape or form. The “rude, crude, loudmouthed teddy bear” concept is far from new, as anybody who collects Bad Taste Bears or has played Naughty Bear will attest, and anybody whose ever sat and wondered what Calvin and Hobbes would be like if the eponymous child grew up will probably have gone down the “What if he’s a slacker and Hobbes is a jerk?” route.

    Even the Toy Story trilogy touched upon some of these ideas. These are not especially original or clever notions. If they were, I think Turnbloom and Logan would probably have to turn their weapons on each other – aren’t they both basically doing the same thing, after all?

    “A kid hugging a bear? I drew a kid hugging a bear! Get my lawyer on the phone!”

    What sets these ideas apart is execution, and as Ted hasn’t even opened in theaters yet we have zero basis for comparison other than a few trailers and some selectively chosen storyboard/screengrabs (a few of which are profoundly stupid). To point a finger and yell “Plagiarism!” before we even reach Zero Day, especially for such a general concept, strikes me as a kneejerk reaction to a potential non-problem. It feels very much like people are making a mountain out of flat terrain, here.

    Edit: As a testament to just how not-at-all-unique this idea is, my friend Jill just pointed me in the direction of another webcomic about a maladjusted teddy bear living with an adult male, called Rehabilitating Mr. Wiggles, which started in 1999 – almost a full decade prior to Imagine This.

  • Arrested Development, Arrested

    Try not to dwell on the MSPaint-looking “Closed” sign.

    Next year, Arrested Development returns after having been mercilessly cancelled by Fox back in 2006. Ten brand spanking new episodes are being produced for distribution exclusively via Netflix, which is very exciting news for fans of great comedy.

    My worry, though, is that the new Arrested Development is going to make the same mistake that other similarly revived shows made upon their triumphant returns. Shows brought back from the brink of disaster have a worrying habit of wasting their second chance nodding at their past rather than looking optimistically towards their future.

    Two of my favourite shows, Futurama and Red Dwarf, were revived in recent years, and both fell prey to nostalgia. The first of the straight-to-DVD Futurama movies, “Bender’s Big Score”, seemed to hinge almost entirely on winks to the audience, nostalgic self-referential gags, and “Hey, remember this minor character and/or in-joke?” moments. “Into The Wild Green Yonder”, the fourth and final Futurama movie, also ended on a very forced note that tried to wrap up as many elements of the show as possible very quickly while also providing an opening should the show return for a full season (as it did last year, with somewhat disappointing results).

    Similarly, the 2009 Red Dwarf miniseries “Back to Earth” intentionally recycled and referenced elements of previous episodes rather than making the effort to stand out and be it’s own thing. While in Red Dwarf‘s case this can be forgiven to an extent – the miniseries was an anniversary event intended to celebrate the series – it does unfortunately mean that, as a story, “Back to Earth” struggles to stand on its own two feet.

    Other successful show revivals such as Doctor Who and Family Guy somehow found it within themselves to soldier onward almost as though they’d never been off the air (aside from the opening scene of Family Guy‘s fourth season, which pokes fun at the Fox Network’s predilection for greenlighting and cancelling shows almost in the same breath).

    With Doctor Who, then-showrunner Russell T Davies made a very deliberate choice not to refer heavily to the classic series, despite being a continuation. This made the first episode much more accessible and, more importantly, didn’t bog it down in self-reference and continuity. Anyone can watch “Rose” and enjoy it, but I have a hard time imagining non-Futurama fans getting much out of “Bender’s Big Score”.

    The new Arrested Development ultimately has to make good on the promise that “new” implies – new stories featuring the same characters. No wasting time paying lip-service to the past, just focusing on what’s to come. If they can check that box, if they can get through the ten episodes without relying too heavily on Remember-Whens and in-jokes, then they can’t go wrong.

    Y’know, unless it sucks.

  • Abe Lincoln Can Fight Vampires, But He’s Not Slaying the Box Office

    American President and noted stovepipe hat enthusiast Abraham Lincoln.

    Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter made $16.6 million over the weekend, placing third in the American box office behind Pixar’s latest offering, Brave, which made little over four times that amount. While some are decrying this as the death of the “vampire trend”, I see instead the death of another subgenre – the historical/horror mash-up.

    If Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter had been released two years ago it would have been much more successful. Indeed, it was two years ago that the book this film is based upon was released and became a New York Times best-seller, and the year before that was when Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, also by the same author, sold phenomenally well.

    But the problem with this genre is it’s distinctly one-note, and the failure of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter to make any headway in the box office is, to me, a sign that attempting to glue the historical and the supernatural in a tongue-in-cheek manner is no longer an immediate recipe for success.

    In many ways, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is the subgenre’s Snakes on a Plane moment. You may recall the buzz surrounding Snakes on a Plane during production, a buzz that actually caused the filmmakers to go back and reshoot scenes to cater to the online “fanbase” the film had amassed before even so much as a trailer had been released. Once the film itself was released, however, nobody went to see it. Like ALVH, Snakes on a Plane made significantly less money in its opening weekend than analysts predicted, and suffered a more than 50% drop-off in profits the following week.

    Like Snakes on a Plane, ALVH is a simple idea – Abe Lincoln, hunting vampires. Once you tell someone the core premise (something the title of the film does rather well), they don’t need to see it. They know what snakes on a plane look like, they can imagine how Samuel L. Jackson would react, they laugh, then they get back to whatever it was they were doing before. Similarly they can imagine what Abe Lincoln taking down vampires would look like. Why, then, would they need to go see the movie? Knowing that the concept exists is more than enough.

    So where does that leave writers eager to ride the historical/supernatural mash-up wave? Well, for a start, I would suggest taking off the wetsuit and staying at home – I’m more or less convinced that the genre is DOA in film. I think if there’s one lesson to be learned from Abe Lincoln: Vampire Hunter‘s opening weekend, it’s that making another film that fits in this mold is probably not going to be the success you expect it to be.

    There is, of course, still life in this concept in print. Sense & Sensibility & Seamonsters was well-reviewed, and other such books such as Night of the Living Trekkies and Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dreadfully Ever After (which is exactly what you think it is) have all sold incredibly well and continue to do so. Quirk Books are continuing their “Quirk Classics” range with new titles including The Meowmorphosis, a fresh take on Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis” with the principal character transforming not into an insect but instead into, ahahaha, a kitten.

    Quirk can, and probably will, continue to knock out these mash-ups, but I think it’ll be a long time before we see another one make the jump to the silver screen.

  • No More Two-Parters in Doctor Who? Why I Don’t Think We Can Take Moffat at His Word.

    WARNING: The following post contains spoilers for Doctor Who’s sixth series. You have been warned. I should also point out that, despite my employers’ connections with the BBC, I have zero foreknowledge of Series 7.

    Oh no! Doctor Who showrunner Steven Moffat rocked the very foundation of the show by announcing way back in December that there probably won’t be any two-part stories in Series 7. This seems rather silly on the surface considering Moffat’s dedication and utter love for the show, but especially considering how vocal he has been about preserving the atmosphere of the show – the very reason he’s touted for deciding to move the series premiere from the traditional March/April start to some time in the Autumn.

    Yet oddly, it’s that very reasoning that has me thinking that perhaps we can’t trust the words that tumbled from Moffat’s mouth last year, especially as he’s already proven himself to be an entirely untrustworthy showrunner. Moffat is very big on keeping secrets from the viewership, going so far as to intentionally mislead the public with announcements of stuff that definitely isn’t happening, which then goes on to happen.

    I find it difficult to believe that Moffat would make a statement that effectively brings an end to part of Doctor Who’s enduring appeal. Although the serialized nature of the show has been toned down since its revival in 2005 the cliffhangers have remained an important part of the show. It’s not without good reason that Russell T Davies opted to include three two-part stories each series, a template Moffat kept for the show’s fifth series. Why, then, would he turn around and decide to abandon such an integral part of the show for its 50th anniversary?

    Of course, looking at the second half of Series 6, it’s easy to see how he may approach the cliffhangers instead. “A Good Man Goes To War” and “Closing Time” are both great examples of stories that are ostensibly standalone, but that end with cliffhangers that either lead into or otherwise tease the next episode of the show. And what is the first fifteen minutes of “The Impossible Astronaut” if not a cliffhanger for the entire series?

    Nevertheless, these cliffhangers are much less overt than in previous stories. Most viewers had more or less figured out that the impossible astronaut was River Song, and so the ending of “Closing Time” lost most of its impact before broadcast.

    A good Doctor Who cliffhanger – a great Doctor Who cliffhanger, in fact – leaves the Doctor and/or his companions in a point of absolute peril, a dangerous scenario from which there appears to be no escape, perhaps best summed up by Moffat himself as “The monsters are coming.” In fact some of the show’s best cliffhangers since its return are Moffat’s own; “The Empty Child”, “Silence in the Library” and “The Pandorica Opens” are some of the most memorable and thrilling cliffhangers in the show’s history.

    Reaching back even further, classic fan favourites like “The Caves of Androzani” and “Genesis of the Daleks” are defined as much by their episode climaxes as they are by the narrative itself, especially in the former story where the show plays with the audience’s expectation that the then-current Doctor, Peter Davison, is to die and regenerate.

    Is Moffat really willing to discard such an important part of the show’s popularity? Or has Doctor Who outgrown the cliffhanger? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t bet money on our intrepid showrunner abandoning this staple just yet. Certainly not when there’s such a major anniversary on the horizon.

  • Mockumentality

    I’m having an increasingly difficult time accepting the mockumentary premise of shows like The Office and Parks and Recreation, especially now that they’ve been on the air for a long time.

    The problem is that these shows have increasingly become dram-coms (or “dramedies” if you hate yourself enough to use annoying portmanteaux), involving characters deceiving others, keepign secrets, harboring hidden feelings, that sort of thing. Which is fine, except the core conceit of the show actively prevents the deception and secrecy from working – namely, they’re being filmed for a television show which, if they don’t watch, their friends and family probably do.

    This was less of an issue with the British version of The Office because it ran for twelve episodes, then dealt with exactly this thing in the Christmas special finale. Meanwhile the American version is midway through its eighth season, and we’re expected to believe that over the course of the last right years exactly none of the characters have learnt about secretive goings-on or caught loving glances from characters harboring secret crushes.

    I love the mockumentary format, especially in both versions of The Office where the cameraperson almost becomes a character in their own right, but this failure to address a fundamental truth of the show’s universe makes it difficult for me to care about what’s going on in the show. By rights, they should know too, and if they know that what they’re doing may well be seen on national television, possibly by their friends, family or coworkers, they’d perhaps be a little less obvious about it.

  • So I Said to this Bloke…

    It really pisses me off when people tell me that Texts From Bennett is fake. It’s not because I think the site is genuine – in fact I’ve no real opinion on the matter, largely because I don’t think it makes any difference either way.

    Would it really be less funny if it were fake? Not really. It’s still funny, and whether I’m laughing at the inane thoughts of a genuinely baffled American teenager or piercing satire that veers into Poe’s Law territory, I’m still being entertained. I’m still laughing. At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters. If nothing else, as my sister points out, we grew up in a town where people talk more or less like Bennett practically all of the time in a wholly unironic fashion.

    I have a similar reaction when people debate Karl Pilkington’s veracity. Is he genuinely that confused by life, or is he a character conceived by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant, or possibly even Pilkington himself? Really, does it matter?

    The people who will decry Texts From Bennett as being fake, or accusing Karl Pilkington of being a very talented fraud, are like people attending a live stand-up show and shouting, “This anecdote didn’t happen! He’s making it up!” – to whit, they’re fucking ridiculous. The audience doesn’t care whether or not Bill Bailey joined a Welsh experimental youth theatre group, or whether Dave Gorman actually uses 50 pence worth of stationary for truly evil purposes*. The audience isn’t there for facts. It’s not a bloody lecture.

    What I’m saying is, if you look down on someone for having a bit of a giggle at a site like Texts From Bennett, then, y’know, basically, fuck off.

    * I’d wanted to use a different example – part of Dave Gorman’s stand-up set where he lists a number of amusingly offensive puns his nephew suggested he say as part of his act – but it doesn’t appear to be on YouTube, and I’m not going to be the one to upload it. Suffice to say, you should buy Dave Gorman’s DVD “Stand Up. Live.” if you want to see it.

  • Congratulations DC Comics, You’ve Successfully Ensured I Never Buy Any Of Your Stuff

    I’m not much of a comic person. I don’t go out and buy new issues of things, with a couple of rare exceptions, and there’s a narrow band of trade paperbacks that I buy – Y: The Last Man and The Walking Dead, for examples, and the Buffy Season Eight stuff. Any of the “traditional” comic trades that I have fall  into the “event” category – stuff like Batman: Year One, Watchmen, that sort of thing.

    I have toyed with the idea of getting into DC and Marvel’s core comic universes, picking up issues and jumping straight into the deep end, and before I lost my job last year I actually picked up a few issues of various stuff to get myself started. Having a friend who works at Marvel certainly helps – she can, when she’s not busy working on Super Secret Projects™, provide me with new materials to peruse. Which is nice.

    I had yet to truly delve into DC’s stuff, and now they’ve rebooted all of their core lines there’s really no incentive for me to do so. Why would I want to invest in any of their comic universes when they’ve made it clear that they’ll quite happily undo years, sometimes decades of history to try and bring in new readers? What reason do I have to get attached to characters, or to follow storylines that may be largely irrelevant a handful of years down the line?

    So congratulations, DC Comics. In your pursuit of potential new readers, you’ve alienated a potential new reader.