In the half-time score for Who’s 2011 season it would appear that it’s Matthew Graham’s Ganger show which has taken the greatest kicking.

Traditional, slow-paced, under-plotted for two parts – The Rebel Flesh/Almost People shares many criticisms with Chris Chibnall’s Silurian episodes of last year, which also featured an arc-building coda involving a disappearing companion. The difference this year is broader though. A split in the season means that Graham’s script has been cast into sharper focus for its perceived failings. As a two-parter alongside the similarly less-loved Curse of the Black Spot we could have a three-to four split of ‘not-good’ versus ‘good’ in the 2011 series so far – not great odds. Additionally, as the remaining stories comprise themselves of another two parter, the mid-season finale and Neil Gaiman’s widely-lauded effort you can see the problem – this year if it’s not The Doctor’s Wife it’s either arc-building, in two parts, or just routine. And personally, I think it’s the arc-building that’s the problem.

My thesis then is that The Almost People isn’t a bad story. There are poor parts, for sure – the most patientest cutest widdle child on a holophone line ever, an abrupt character change in Cleaves that allows for a really unconvincing Noble Sacrifice ™ at the end that just screams “too many castmembers!” and of course the unexpected return of the Lazarus Monster as überGanger Jennifer. It is in places a plod, and its shock last-minute twist stands out not for being the clever bit in the script, but for being the obious equaliser, the hand-up offered by the series showrunner. Why else should we expect a two-episode build up to this when there’s an effective (and equally open) ending behind the Company doors on the mainland. If you want to see how that board meeting might have turned out, stay tuned for A Good man Goes to War, and see the Ganger role in future wartime diplomacy.

In the course of two weeks we’ve had less of a standalone story and more of a distraction from the main event – Amy’s quantum pregnancy, and Eyepatch Lady; so I do feel for Graham’s lot. An ordinary story with some great makeup and good design, some smar casting (ho ho) and a living Rory (we should have known something was up!!) Even Matt Smith’s double act was good – not smug, a little bit tricky with the swapped shoes, and more knowing than at first you might have thought. But it’s not enough, and future DVD box sets will not treat this story as The Exciting One With Gangers, but The One Where The Doctor Melts Amy And The Main Plot Kicks Back In – and after two weeks that just doesn’t seem fair.

PA

 The main revelation of this rather bleak and confined episode is not that the previously servile, artificially-created duplicates: the ‘Gangers,’ have somehow gained independent thought, but that the equally puppeteered Rory Pond has.  As I’m never slow to point out, he has never been my favourite character, but his devotion to ‘Jennifer’s (other) Body’ and emergent streak of wilfulness has suddenly made him a much more interesting character.  It’s a far more meaningful manning-up than that ‘20-centuries Centurion’ business last year.

Instead of striving to be an ‘other of significance’ to a hugely independent woman (I feel your pain, Rory) he has found a vulnerable and trusting girl who seems to like and even need him.  The catch is, of course that she’s not actually real, but this is a situation that may not be that new to some, either.

But whether Jennifer’s, or anyone else’s, Ganger is actually any less real than their original templates is the crux of this episode.  If it were Star Trek this concept would be blasted home with the subtlety of a phaser set on ‘moralise’.  Instead, we are forced to ponder the dilemma when Jimmy’s wistful recollections of his young son back on Earth are hijacked by his duplicates equally heart-felt sentiments for the same child.  “He’s my son too” says the Ganger simply, without a trace of defensiveness or challenge in his voice.

The opening sequence featuring a man nonchalantly left to die in an acid bath as the result of some playful jostling, loses its horror as we realise that we’ve actually witnessed the death of a manufactured avatar, but then gradually regains it again as these same facsimiles begin to think and feel.

If I may point to another contrast with science fiction television produced on the other side of the Atlantic, a laudable aspect of this episode is that the cast are refreshingly ordinary looking.  With the exception of the radiant Ms Gillan I’d surmise that none of them have been near a catwalk, or are likely to, and this makes them both real and easy to identify with, in both their forms.  Pallid, noseless Ganger-Jennifer may look horrifying as she tries to find the hiding Rory, but the desperation and regret in her eyes are heartbreakingly human.

This series has been an odd beast, so far.  The opening episodes flattered our intelligence and patience, whereas the climax to this episode had been clearly telegraphed from the moment the Doctor first saw the flesh vat.  Despite this, it’s a chilling moment and a violation of the Doctor’s appearance which hasn’t been seen since he got copied by a cactus all those years ago.

Inevitably, the ‘us and them’ situation boils over into Ganger warfare which inexplicably also boils over into a second episode.  It’s good stuff, but I’m not convinced there is really enough mileage left to justify another 45 minutes. But I look forward to being proved wrong.

AH

A becalmed mix of pirates and The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances; Curse of the Black Spot gives the impression that it’s run out of wind somewhere towards the end. On the surface it looks great, is performed brilliantly, and from the first “Yo, ho, ho” great lines come thick and fast. But an awareness of time passing seems to creep in, a doldrums of pacing which even another close call with death for Rory can’t alleviate. Of more interest was the Doctor’s hanging back during the resuscitation scene, recalling Eccleston’s tenure when the Doctor often acted as an instrument to bring the best out in others, rather than directly intervening himself.

In years gone by, if a guest actor with the presence and charisma of Hugh Bonneville had appeared on the programme, fans would be immediately touting him as ‘next Doctor’ material. Perceptions of what is required for the programme’s lead have changed, but it is true that Bonneville is probably the best thing about this episode. Barely needing to raise his voice to dominate his scenes – the scenery chews itself for him.

The phantasmagorical Lily Cole is another high point of the episode. Her other-worldly looks – huge eyes and tiny mouth – resemble a character from a Tim Burton animated film, and are enhance by a master class performance of eye acting – which is exactly what models do, I suppose. And she was very scary when turning from green to red – a look which I’m sure is unlikely to ever make it into Cole’s modelling portfolio. I wonder if Rory gave himself away when he describes her as ‘the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen’ – how long will it be now before Amy finds the Pirelli calendar hidden under their bed?

Steven Moffat has stated that the intention was to make this story as ‘piratey’ as possible, cramming in everything from walking the plank, to a mutiny, to a youthful stowaway. In doing so the programme seems to have fallen into the trap which the first Pirates of the Caribbean film so deftly avoided – instead of taking well-worn clichés and moulding them into something fresh, we seem to have ended up with something… well-worn.

There is still much fun to be had in seeing Karen Gillan ‘get her Kiera out’ and Avery surmise some basic functions of the TARDIS consol by using his own experience as Captain of a ship – but his final scene probably sums up this worthy episodes deficiencies. Seated at a spacecraft flight deck and setting course for Sirius, instead of a rousing whoosh and roar we get a feeble camera tilt which gives the impression that Captain Henry Avery is actually piloting a mobility scooter.

AH

 
So the gloves are off for 2011. Moffat and team are back juggling the format and more story arcs than ever before with, allegedly, each of the three-to-four regulars getting their own little saga. We the audience have been thrown in the deep end, with a flip-flop of the usual fare of two-part finale – but could anyone really have seen things become this deep so soon? And this dark for a family show?