TV PREVIEW: Endeavour/The Ice Cream Girls/Doctor Who

This article was originally published in The Scotsman on Saturday 13th April 2013.

http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/tv-and-radio/tv-preview-endeavour-the-ice-cream-girls-doctor-who-1-2894604

ENDEAVOUR

Sunday, STV, 8pm

THE ICE CREAM GIRLS

Friday, STV, 9pm

DOCTOR WHO

Today, BBC1, 6:15pm

Paul Whitelaw

Try as I might, I've never quite managed to adjust to the meandering tempo of ITV detective dramas. The peerless Cracker aside, they've never captured my interest. Even the much-loved Inspector Morse, which continues in perpetuity via afternoon repeats, failed to grab me. An indisputably classy production, it's something I always admired from afar, but never fell in love with as so many others did. Call me a blundering philistine – you wouldn't be the first – but I just can't engage with melancholy detectives solving crimes slowly.

So it's hardly surprising that I was underwhelmed by ENDEAVOUR, the 1960s-set prequel in which the precocious Constable Morse first makes his mark on the death-caked streets of Oxford. Again, there are aspects of it I admire, from Shaun Evans' subtle, well-observed evocation of John Thaw's distinctive speech patterns, to the understated chemistry he shares with the great Roger Allam as his pipe-smoking boss. Indeed, any drama which unites Allam and that other fine character actor, Anton Lesser, must have something going for it.

But the interminably convoluted storyline, involving the mysterious death of a young woman and the murder of a doctor in a public lavatory, is, while mildly diverting, hardly the stuff of great drama.

Recently promoted, with his deductive genius and antisocial quirks already in bloom, Morse uses the case to prove his abilities to Lesser's sceptical commanding officer. I actually find this aspect of Endeavour, the character-driven plight of an alienated young man, more interesting than the cases themselves. There's nothing more frustrating for a critic than reacting to something with indifference, but Endeavour doesn't excite me in either direction.

Following a successful pilot last year, this inaugural series will almost certainly do well. It's not for me, but it's there if you want it.

What is it with ITV and murder mysteries? They're like the broadcasting equivalent of the serial killer-obsessed David from Psychoville, forever offering up stabbed and strangled corpses for our morbid delectation. They're at it again with THE ICE CREAM GIRLS, a drab thriller which, a la Broadchurch, takes place in yet another picturesque coastal community. But whereas Broadchurch compels with its addictive central mystery, The Ice Cream Girls is just another middling ITV potboiler.

A po-faced saga of guilt and retribution (coming soon to ITV: Lynda La Plante's Guilt & Retribution), it begins with Serena, a successful middle-class woman, moving her family back into the house she grew up in, so as to care for her sick mother. Haunted by a terrible incident from her past – “It was seventeen years ago!” bleats her sister, helpfully – she's terrified of the police, as well as the prospect of her husband and daughter discovering her secret. “I think this move might be a good thing for me!” beams the former, betraying a tragic ignorance of ironic foreshadowing.

Meanwhile, another woman, Poppy, is released from prison – after seventeen years – and returns to the same town. Her life in tatters, she's determined to track down Serena. So what's their connection? Told via conveniently prominent newspaper cuttings and intermittent flashbacks to the 1990s, the story introduces a slimy schoolteacher played by Scots actor Martin Compston, and his inappropriate relationship with the doe-eyed young Serena. Suffice to say, things don't go well.

The pedestrian nature of The Ice Cream Girls is enlivened somewhat by an arrestingly unsettling performance from Compston, and Jodhi May playing the vulnerable Poppy as the physical manifestation of a repressed scream. Their combined screen presence holds the attention, even while the story trundles along familiar lines.

Last glimpsed in 1974 adventure The Monsters of Peladon, classic DOCTOR WHO baddie The Ice Warriors make an effective comeback in Mark Gatiss' Cold War. Guest-starring a curiously underused David Warner as – wait for it – an Ultravox-obsessed scientist (the episode is set in 1983), it finds the Doctor and Clara landing inside a nuclear-armed Soviet submarine harbouring something potentially far more dangerous in its belly.

Making good use of its claustrophobic setting, it's an Alien-esque thriller which also recalls the base-under-siege yarns of the Patrick Troughton era. Of course, Alien was itself influenced by the classic 1950s sci-fi film The Thing From Another World, which in turn inspired classic-era Doctor Who stories such as The Seeds of Doom. Gatiss, who is famously a Doctor Who uber-fan and horror aficionado, is clearly having fun with this never-ending feedback loop in an entertaining – and somewhat surprising – addition to the canon.

Talented chap though he is, the former League of Gentleman star and Sherlock co-creator is hardly one of the most inspired authors of 21^st century Doctor Who. But Cold War is undoubtedly his strongest effort since The Unquiet Dead back in 2005. And the fact that the imposing appearance of the Ice Warriors has barely been altered since its first appearance in 1967 (their leader played by Bernard Bresslaw, fact-fans) is testament to one of the most distinctive creature designs in Doctor Who's history.  

TV PREVIEW: Doctor Who/The Voice UK/The Village/Life's Too Short

This article was originally published in The Scotsman on Saturday 30th March 2013.

http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/tv-and-radio/tv-preview-doctor-who-the-voice-uk-the-village-life-s-too-short-1-2866239

DOCTOR WHO

Today, BBC1, 6:15pm

THE VOICE UK

Today, BBC1, 7pm

THE VILLAGE

Sunday, BBC1, 9pm

LIFE'S TOO SHORT

Today, BBC2, 10pm

Paul Whitelaw

The problem with previewing new episodes of DOCTOR WHO is that, because it thrives on shock and surprise, you're left with little to say beyond a few gentle hints. To go into any more detail would be like telling a child what it's getting for Christmas. Which I might actually do one day as a social experiment, but that's another story.

So, what I can tell you is that as series seven resumes, the Doctor is brooding over the bizarre ongoing mystery of Clara Oswald, a young woman who, on the two occasions they've met, has died in different periods in history. How can this be? This being Steven Moffat's Doctor Who, the eventual answer will probably be convoluted and disappointing, but I'll gladly be proven wrong.

In any case, the Doctor is now obsessed with tracking down yet another version of Clara, only this time with a view to keeping her alive. And sure enough, as anyone with even a passing interest in Doctor Who already knows, he meets Clara Mark III in Moffat'sThe Bells of Saint John. It's one of those purely entertaining episodes best described as a romp, as the Doctor sets himself up as Clara's galactic guardian while struggling to save humankind from being enslaved by alien Wi-Fi.

This, of course, is a standard Moffat trick: take an everyday facet of existence and invest it with horror. He must spend his days wandering around thinking of ways to make door knobs and carpets scary. Here he takes our real-world concerns about internet identity theft, chucks in one of his other favourite tropes, the creepy child, adds a possible reference to The Exorcist and a fan-pleasing nod to a former companion, and voila! 45 minutes of fun, pacy Moffat Doctor Who.

Matt Smith is a note-perfect delight as usual, although the day he stops being a note-perfect delight as the Doctor is the day he regenerates into the unfortunate thesp who has to follow him. After Clara's introduction in last year's Asylum of the Daleks and the most recent Christmas special, Jenna Louise-Coleman continues to impress with her likeable, charming, understated performance (she's far less annoying than she was in her sass-talking début). She and Smith make for an endearing team.

Also, watch out for a surprise cameo from John Simm's Master and classic series baddies the Zygons.

Dear internet forums and fellow media outlets: please note that this last statement is an outright lie, humorously pertaining to the dilemma established in my opening paragraph. Thanks.

Also returning to BBC1's Saturday night line-up is THE VOICE UK, the torpid X Factor clone that drew flack last year for its repetitive, drawn-out format and excessive overuse of Jessie J doing that thing with her head. But the producers have apparently made some game-changing improvements to the format, despite retaining the same set of judges. So expect another billion weeks of Tom Jones looking like he'd rather be at home having a nap, and will.i.am standing on his chair whenever he feels he's not getting enough attention.

A big week for TV dramatists called Moffat continues with THE VILLAGE, in which Peter Moffat (Criminal Justice; Silk) abandons his usual peregrinations around the legal system for an epic trek across the entire 20^th century. Or at least, that's the plan. Moffat has declared that The Village, which is entirely set within a rural community in the North of England, will unfold over 42 episodes. So that's seven series in as many years.

This ambitious concept automatically confers upon The Village the sort of “event TV” buzz one doesn't normally associate with Sunday night period dramas. It's frustrating, then, that episode one feels like little more than a flat, silly parody.

Leaving no trope unturned, it begins in 1914 by introducing a sadistic farmer (John Simm – genuinely this time – glowering for all his worth) who brutally torments his cowering wife (Maxine Peake) and children, one of whom tops and tails each episode as a centenarian reflecting over his life. There's also a sadistic schoolteacher who is, of course, directly countermanded by a kindly schoolteacher. Meanwhile, up at the Downton-esque big house, the conversation at dinner is preoccupied with the suffragette movement and dark rumblings about war with Germany. It practically writes itself.

Although it's clear that Moffat is trying to do something interesting here, he struggles to settle on the right tone. The unrelenting misery actually becomes funny after a while, a problem hardly alleviated by the persistently mournful brass and harmonium soundtrack. It feels at times like a deranged Hovis advert. However, the more idiosyncratic elements of The Village begin to click into place in part two, with part one feeling in retrospect like a formally self-conscious introduction. So it may be worth sticking with. Over seven years, if need be.

Finally, Gervais & Merchant's dismal sitcom LIFE'S TOO SHORT returns unbidden for a one-off finale. Drab and mean-spirited, it sidelines its nominal star, Warwick Davis, in favour of the supposedly hilarious spectacle of ha-ha-has-beens Keith Chegwin, Shaun Williamson and Les Dennis making fools of themselves. It's truly desperate stuff.

Doctor Who: 50th Anniversary Celebration

This article was originally published in Scotland On Sunday on 24th March 2013.

http://www.scotsman.com/scotland-on-sunday/scotland/doctor-who-why-we-still-love-the-doctor-1-2854439

DOCTOR WHO: 50^th ANNIVERSARY

On 23^rd November 1963, the day after the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the BBC launched a new Saturday tea-time adventure serial ostensibly aimed at children.

Enigmatically titled Doctor Who, and swathed in an eerie electronic theme tune, episode one, An Unearthly Child, introduced a pair of inquisitive schoolteachers who, concerned by the strange behaviour of a brilliant young pupil, followed her home to solve the puzzle.

What they discovered, much to their understandable alarm, was that the girl lived in a junk yard. Not only that, she lived in a police box in a junk yard. Except it wasn't a police box at all, but rather a bigger-on-the-inside alien spacecraft capable of travelling through time and space. Its pilot, a crotchety old man known only as the Doctor, wasn't best pleased that his teenage granddaughter had unwittingly led a pair of meddling apes into his secret world. Fearing discovery by the rest of humankind, he saw no choice but to kidnap the teachers and exit the Earth post-haste.

The episode ends with the TARDIS – an acronym for Time and Relative Dimensions in Space – materialising on a barren, forbidding landscape, as the ominous shadow of a misshapen figure falls into view.

It's one of the most arresting introductions to a television drama in the entire history of the medium. Over the space of just 25 minutes, the craftspeople responsible for this curious new programme managed to establish a premise so original, strong and bewitching, it has endured practically unchanged for fifty years.

Without access to a time machine themselves, they could never have foreseen that in 2013 we can say, without much fear of contradiction, that the ever-regenerating Doctor is one of the greatest heroes in all of fiction. And yet here we are, with the world's longest-running science-fiction television series still reigning supreme.

So why has it endured for so long? Is its quirky character in some ways a reflection of our own national identity? Of our affinity with underdogs and loveable eccentrics?

“One of the things that's interesting about Doctor Who as a cultural phenomenon over the whole fifty years is that its selling point has really been its Britishness,” says Dee Amy-Chinn, a senior lecturer in Media and Culture at the University of Stirling. “The Doctor has always in some way embodied a kind of quirkiness that's specifically British. When it started in the 1960s it was reflecting Britain's back-room boffins who'd won the war through Bletchley Park and building the bouncing bomb. Britain had never been able to chuck troops at the Second World War in the way that America had, but it could do something that was something just a little bit different and British.”

The Doctor is a classic hero. Decent, honest and brave, he despises intolerance in all its forms and stands up for the oppressed wherever they need saving. Sure, he's made mistakes. You don't traverse the farthest reaches of the universe for over a thousand years without cracking a few eggs and causing the odd rip in the fabric of time and space. But, as current show-runner Steven Moffat says, “He's such a moral man. He's a good, clever man, that's all he is. I think that's about as positive a message as you could possibly give.”

Conceptually, the show is unique in that the periodic replacement of its lead actor is actually ingrained within its fictional lore. When first Doctor William Hartnell became too ill to continue in the role, the production team came up with the inspired idea of having him physically regenerate his appearance into that of Patrick Troughton. It was a risky move which ultimately paid off, and an enormous factor in Doctor Who's longevity. The fundamental genius of its infinitely flexible format is another major component. What other TV show can hop across so many genres – horror, comedy, western, period drama, space opera etc. - with such ease every week? “

Today regarded as a cultural institution, it can attract guest stars of the calibre of Simon Callow, Penelope Wilton, Timothy Dalton and – both in the role of the Doctor's arch-nemesis The Master - Derek Jacobi and John Simm. Notable writers during the current era include Richard Curtis, celebrated fantasy author Neil Gaiman, and Men Behaving Badly creator Simon Nye.

But it wasn't always so feted. After reaching its peak of popularity in the '70s under the stewardship of the dashing Jon Pertwee and the incomparable Tom Baker – viewing figures frequently peaked between an impressive ten and twelve million – its popularity declined following the early 1980s tenure of Peter Davison. It became the butt of tired jokes about wobbly sets (they didn't actually wobble) and cheap monsters (they maybe had a point there). Even its fans were derided as sad spotty virgins laughably obsessed with a tatty kid's show.

And yet to be a fan in 2013 simply means you're an ordinary viewer who enjoys one of the most treasured jewels in the BBC's crown. No longer the niche concern that it was during the twilight years of Colin Baker and Sylvester McCoy, it's now a shiny bauble of block-busting Saturday night entertainment: the space-hopping yin to Strictly's fox-trotting yang. It's finally won the widespread respect it always deserved.

Of course, this is something of a double-edged sword for long-time fans such as myself. While we're thrilled that it's now one of the UK's most popular TV shows – and it's finally gaining a significant audience in the US too – one can't help bristling at the fact that many of those now praising it were once only too eager to dismiss it out of hand. Vintage Doctor Who couldn't boast the Hollywood-standard special-effects of the revived series – no TV show could in those days – but it was basically always the same wonderfully imaginative and unique show that critics and awards panels adore so much today. So what took them so long?

One explanation is that in the last ten years, the sort of paraphernalia enjoyed by “geeks” – computer games, sci-fi, superheroes, comics etc. – has been assimilated into the mainstream. So there's no longer any stigma attached to watching Doctor Who. As Steven Moffat has often said, it's a show which “fetishises” intelligence. Thankfully, today's audience responds to that in droves.

It's remarkable to consider that if you were born in Britain before, say, 1985, you'll have been aware of Doctor Who for most or all of your life. “It's part of a series of shows today that appeal to both children and adults,” says Dee Amy-Chinn. “But I think Doctor Who does that better than other dramas in that slot, things like Merlin, because adults remember it from their own childhood.”

Even if you've never seen a single episode, you'll recognise the TARDIS and know what a Dalek is. That, it must be said, is one powerful cultural imprint for a television programme to leave behind.

Similarly remarkable is that no-one seriously expected Doctor Who to be in this position in 2013. After being quietly dropped in 1989, ostensibly due to dwindling ratings – although the BBC essentially killed it off by scheduling it opposite Coronation Street – it mainly continued to exist on home video, the convention circuit and in a teeming range of spin-off novels, some written by the very people associated with the series today.

A 1996 TV movie starring Paul McGann, while greeted favourably at home, failed to spark the hoped-for comeback when the US co-producers pulled out due to its poor performance over there. And that, it seemed, was that. Generations would grow up without the comforting presence of the Doctor by their side. He was yesterday's hero.

Except, as we know, he wasn't. You can't confine a Time Lord to the past, after all. As much of a pioneering hero in his way as the people responsible for creating Doctor Who back in 1963, lifelong super-fan Russell T. Davies – who also happened to be an award-winning TV writer of huge renown – revived the show in 2005 to spectacular effect . Casting “proper actor” Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor came as a surprise to some, but it also helped to convince sceptics that this revival meant business. Since then it's gone on to win five BAFTAs, six Hugo Awards, and fourteen National Television Awards. It's also been credited with reviving the phenomenon of communal family viewing.

“As media consumption becomes more fragmented,” says Dee Amy-Chinn, “anything you can do to bring people together in the way that Doctor Who does, with something for everybody because it works on so many different levels, then that show is doing something quite rare and unusual. It's success says that audiences are interested in good storytelling, well drawn characters, high production values, and something that can be a shared family experience.”

Not everyone loves it, of course. It's been criticised for being emotionally manipulative, over-complicated, inappropriately sexualised and self-important. Some say it's changed too much. And they're right, as well as wrong. It has endured because it has constantly evolved over the decades, but without ever losing sight of its fundamental reason for being: to inspire and entertain. Like the Doctor himself, it's changed several times, yet always remained the same.

That simple yet inspired idea, cooked up fifty years ago in the corridors of the BBC, about an eccentric alien in a time machine has travelled farther than even the Doctor's wildest dreams. Why? Because at its heart, it's a triumphant celebration of inquisitive knowledge and heroic rebellion, of loyal endeavour and noble sacrifice, of liberal morality and the thwarting of evil. Plus it's got loads of crazy aliens and explosions in it.

Few cultural artefacts have managed to cover so much ground in a way that appeals to such an enormous, disparate audience. It's an incredible achievement. Happy birthday, Doctor. Long may you roam.

Scotsman interview with STEVEN MOFFAT

This article was originally published in The Scotsman on 20th December 2011.

http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/tv-and-radio/preview_doctor_who_the_doctor_the_widow_and_the_wardrobe_1_2015336

As tireless overseer of the multi-award-winning Doctor Who and Sherlock, two of Britain's biggest – and in the case of the former, most globally successful – TV dramas, Steven Moffat's pre-eminent position within the cultural firmament is at once impressive and unenviable. “I never find any time to relax,” he sighs. “At this very moment I'm supposed to be at a big lovely, boozy lunch that I had to call off because I haven't finished this Doctor Who script that I'm very late on.”

Not that he's necessarily complaining, you understand. Like his predecessor on Doctor Who, Russell T. Davies, the Paisley-born writer has been a devoted fan of the series since childhood, so it's little wonder that his slight edge of weariness pales in comparison to his evident enjoyment of the job.

Although he admits there are days when he wants to run screaming from the room, he claims it's not because of the programmes themselves as such. “All the stuff that surrounds it can be... not so much bad as relentless. I have one of those jobs that a lot of people have, where I check my emails in the morning with trepidation. You know, is there a bomb in here, what am I unwrapping today? But in the main I wouldn't be here if I didn't love it.”

Although Moffat can often come across as rather prickly in interviews, the man I speak to makes for amusing and avuncular company. At the risk of sinking into armchair psychology mode, he exhibits that not uncommon combination – at least among creative types - of shyness, self-deprecation and bolshy confidence. The latter is hardly surprising, given that he's one of the most feted screenwriters of his generation, renowned for his sly wit, quicksilver dialogue, vibrant imagination and ingenious plotting.

But it was that very audacity which led several of your actual adult critics to complain that the most recent series of Doctor Who – Moffat's second in the showrunner chair – was far too complicated for children. Unsurprisingly, he's having none of it.

“When you say 'adult critics', there's about three,” he chuckles (he chuckles a lot). “The truth is we don't have any audience feedback about it being desperately hard to follow. All the kids got who River Song was, all the kids knew that the little girl regenerating would turn out to be River. It really isn't that hard to follow. Because it was momentarily more arc-based they decide to say it's too complicated. Because Russell was gay they had to say it was all far too gay. No it wasn't! If anything, I think Russell should be credited as the man who made the Doctor definitively heterosexual. But it's just finding something to say about it, they'll do it every year and you never know what it's going to be.”

There has been some confusion lately surrounding the scheduling of the next series, with conflicting reports suggesting that not all of the 14 episodes will be shown in 2012. Can he clarify? “I can clarify that we start shooting in mid-February, but literally I can't tell you what the schedule is. What headlines are you planning for that time of year? I've only just found out what the transmission schedule is for Sherlock, and I've finished making that. I've barely started writing Doctor Who. Loads of things about that are in flux, all for good reasons actually.”

He can confirm, however, that it's part of his grand-plan to remove Doctor Who from its usual Spring/Summer slot and back to the Wintry habitat it enjoyed when he was growing up. “It's done very well in the Summer, it's not like we've ever suffered from it, but it's almost like an aesthetic thing. If you're having to close the curtains so you can see the screen, that's not a good time to be watching a show that's largely about tunnels and torches. Somehow I think it's a show you watch in the dark.”

As for the 50^th anniversary in 2013, Moffat has already promised an appropriately special episode, although when pressed he teasingly replies, “Why talk in the singular? Again, genuinely, the plans are at an early stage, but we have some very clear ideas about some of the things we're doing, and I think Doctor Who fans and kids will think it's the best thing ever. We've got a load of very big plans – the mere fact that we're talking about this two years before the event should tell you how seriously we're taking it.”

Fans are obviously clamouring for an anniversary special featuring current incumbent Matt Smith alongside many of the previous Doctors.

“Apparently,” he shrugs, and chuckles again, with absolutely nothing more to say on the matter.

Extracting new information about the revived Doctor Who has never been easy. A magnet for rumour and misinformation, the series attracted confusion again recently when Harry Potter director David Yates claimed he was making a rebooted movie version with an entirely different cast and mythology.

“It's completely inaccurate!” hoots Moffat, “there's nothing there! I mean it would be lovely, yes. If anything, the only good bit about this is that it might actually focus our minds on thinking that we actually should do [a film]. But to state the bleeding obvious, it's not going to be a different version of Doctor Who with two different Doctors at the same time. Of course not, we're not that silly. That would be no way to run a franchise, would it? I'd love it to happen, but that version you heard was just a guy getting cornered on the red carpet and not really being on-message.”

When asked what it is that attracts him to such flamboyant characters as the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes, he unequivocally cites their mutual brainpower and thirst for knowledge. That's perhaps hardly surprising coming from a former schoolteacher.

“The thing that unites both those shows is that they absolutely fetishise intelligence. It's about being clever, and that being clever is a good thing. In the Clarkson-isation of television I think it's rather good that we have two very popular drama series that expect the audience to be intelligent, and are right in that expectation. The only superpower those two heroes have is the fact that they're smarter than anybody else in the room. It says you don't have to be the fastest, the best-looking, the sexiest, you can just be smart. You don't often get the message, especially in American movies, that smart is good, that smart doesn't have to be geeky and silly, it can actually be amazing and powerful. And particularly in the case of the Doctor, he's such a moral man, he's a good, clever man, that's all he is. I think that's about as positive a message as you could possibly give.”

The Doctor and Holmes aside, Moffat also previously reinvented the tale of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde for the BBC, and recently wrote the Tintin movie for Steven Spielberg and Peter Jackson. Are there any other iconic fictional characters he'd like to get his hands on?

“When Mark [Gatiss, co-creator of Sherlock] and I get together we discuss Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes and James Bond, and I keep saying, 'Oh we can't do James Bond, because there has to be something left that's still fiction for us!' I love those films, but I think I shouldn't write that because then I'll ruin James Bond for myself.”

It's probably just as well, as he wouldn't have the time. Nevertheless, it looks as though he'll be steering the adventures of the Time Lord for at least a while yet.

“I genuinely haven't got a plan,” he claims, “except I'll probably have to stop at some point or I'll die. And dying would be bad. But my main concern is not so much how long I do it, but that I absolutely, definitely am going to be handing it on to somebody else. I want it to be in great shape, and some day I want somebody else to come in and knock my socks off with what they do with it. You don't want to be the last person in the relay race, do you?”

CHRISTMAS TV PREVIEW: Loving Miss Hatto, Doors Open etc.

This article was originally published in The Scotsman on Saturday 22nd December 2012.

LOVING MISS HATTO

Sunday, BBC1, 8:30pm

RESTLESS

Thursday and Friday, BBC1, 9pm

DOORS OPEN

Boxing Day, STV, 9pm

DOCTOR WHO

Christmas Day, BBC1, 5:15pm

CALL THE MIDWIFE

Christmas Day, BBC1, 7:30pm

DOWNTON ABBEY

Christmas Day, STV, 8:45pm

Paul Whitelaw

If history's taught us anything, it's that if you stick Alfred Molina in a cardigan and ask him to play a hapless, well-meaning man, the pathos he exudes will make a mountain weep. Support him with a script written by Victoria Wood, and, well, resistance is futile.

In LOVING MISS HATTO, Wood's captivating account of the biggest fraud in classical music history, Molina plays William Barrington-Coupe (aka 'Barrie'), an ambitious dreamer who fooled the world into believing that his terminally ill wife, Joyce Hatto, was one of the greatest living concert pianists. And all of this orchestrated from a semi-detached in Hertfordshire.

His ruse – achieved simply by passing off doctored recordings of other pianists as works by Hatto – was eventually exposed following Joyce's death in 2006, although he maintains to this day that she had no involvement in the scheme. Wood understandably opts for a different view - how could Joyce not have known what was going on? But although she depicts them as complicit, she never passes cruel judgement. Instead, she delivers a sympathetic, nuanced portrayal of an ordinary couple who resorted to desperate measures in order to gain the recognition they felt they'd been denied.

Joyce was actually a promising concert pianist in her youth, with Barrie – despite his propensity for getting into what he called “muddles” - an idealistic and committed supporter of her fledgling career. But, for various reasons, fame never arrived – at least not until decades later when Barrie discovered the hoodwinking potential of the internet.

Wood frames this remarkable story as a touching love affair between two thwarted people with nothing to lose. Barrie, who's still alive, should be pleased with her depiction of him as a decent man who only broke the law out of love for his frustrated wife. And Wood's witty, poignant, thoughtful screenplay, together with charming performances from Molina and Francesca Annis - and Rory Kinnear and Maime McCoy as their younger selves - ensure that their scam never feels like anything more damaging than a romantic “muddle” that got out of hand.

Adapted by William Boyd from his own novel, RESTLESS is perhaps the most aptly titled thriller I've ever seen. It doesn't so much test one's patience as suffocate it. Curiously inert and stilted, it charts the interminable saga of a female Secret Service agent, both during World War Two and in the 'present' of the 1970s: so that's two stubbornly paced and flabbily plotted narratives running concurrently. It's supposed to be a compelling puzzle. It feels like an endless, boring game of Risk.

The problem may be that Boyd is so attached to his source material, he was loath to cut it (both episodes are feature-length). He also fails to invest his central character with an interesting inner life; he simply gives us no reason to care about her. It also doesn't help that her daughter – who plays a key role in the '70s segments – is played by Michelle Dockery, alias Lady Mary from Downton, an actress so stiff she makes the average corpse look like a whirling dervish on a hotplate.

The very definition of an insubstantial, middling bit of fluff, DOORS OPEN is an Ian Rankin adaptation which couldn't be further removed from the gritty world of Rebus if it was set in Atlantis. Produced by Stephen Fry and Sandi Toksvig – she also co-writes – it follows three friends as they undertake a benign art heist.

Millionaire Mike (Douglas Henshall) is doing it for memories of his ex-lover (Being Human's Lenora Crichlow, in a thankless role); Allan (Kenneth Collard) because the paintings are owned by the heartless bank he's just been sacked from; and Professor Gissing (Fry) believes he's liberating the ineffable soul of art from the clutches of commerce. Bathed in a vaguely knockabout, overbearing sheen, it tries desperately to pass itself off as an Edinburgh-set Hollywood romp. But it's the sort of thing you forget about even while you're watching.

Preview copies of this year's DOCTOR WHO Christmas special were unavailable at the time of writing, but as fans such as myself have come to expect little from these invariably underwhelming festive outings, maybe this year we'll be pleasantly surprised. I know, I know, forever the optimist.

If I'm being charitable, the cloying sentiment of CALL THE MIDWIFE is slightly more palatable in a festive setting. But only slightly. Inevitably, the Christmas Day edition of this mechanical period drama serves up the heavily symbolic spectacle of a baby being born in a lock-up, and shoves the midwives-as-angels angle further down our throats than ever before. Oh, and hapless Miranda is involved in a sub-plot involving the local nativity play. Of course she is.

If we're talking about sumptuous Sunday period dramas, then DOWNTON ABBEY obviously can't be beaten. But whereas Midwife is earnest, Downton is a frantic conga-line of ludicrously watchable toot. Previews weren't available, but we're promised a Christmas trip to Scotland during which, I dunno, Carson and a stag get stuck up a chimney. Probably, it doesn't matter. Merry Christmas, everyone! 

TV PREVIEW: Doctor Who, Dallas, Mrs Biggs.

This article was originally published in The Scotsman on 1 September 2012.

http://www.scotsman.com/

DOCTOR WHO

Today, BBC1, 7:20pm

DALLAS

Wednesday, Five, 9pm

MRS BIGGS

Wednesday, STV, 9pm

Paul Whitelaw

TV's annual summer drought finally comes to an end with the return of two beloved hardy perennials, most notable of which is DOCTOR WHO. Now in its seventh series since its revival, it shows no sign of flagging under the auspices of ingenious show-runner Steven Moffat and – mark my considered words – one of the best actors to ever fill the Doctor's boots, Matt Smith.

If, like me, you felt the last series was bogged down somewhat by the convoluted Amy/Rory/River Song arc, then you'll be pleased to note that we've been promised a new series of self-contained “blockbusters”, presumably epitomised by Moffat's tremendous kick-starter, Asylum of the Daleks, in which the titular war-tanks come across as more unnerving and menacing than at any time since Rob Shearman's celebrated Dalek in 2005.

You'll doubtless have read that this adventure features more physical Dalek models – including several from Doctor Who's entire half-century existence – than ever before, making it something of a dark celebration of their iconic status. But that doesn't obscure a cracking yarn in which the Doctor, Amy and Rory are unwillingly press-ganged by their arch nemesis into “saving” a danger-strewn planet of insane Skarosians.

Full of sepulchral, claustrophobic corridors straight out of a classic '60s/'70s episode, it's an atmospheric setting swathed in rust, dust and cobwebs: Indiana Jones and the Temple of Whom. The compact storyline also throws up a couple of genuine shocks that I can't reveal for obvious reasons, but suffice to say they provide intriguing implications for the future of the series.

Scattering fine-tuned moments of wit and poignancy throughout – as well as a surreal detour resembling The Shining by way of Sapphire & Steele – it is, in typical Doctor Who style, a gripping, twisty horror romp fit for all the family. Visually, it's as impressive as usual, feeling richer and more cinematic than anything else on British TV. My only complaint is that – after redeeming herself last year – Karen Gillan as Amy is back to her semi-dislikeable, irritating ways, although that's thankfully offset by the charm and comic timing of the peerless Smith and Arthur Darvill as Rory. I'll miss the latter when he leaves along with Gillan later this year.

Fun of a somewhat different hue is triggered by the return of DALLAS, the glossy mega-soap which, save for a couple of late-'90s TV movies, hasn't graced our screens since the original series ended in 1991. Like Doctor Who before it, the writers have wisely foregone a reboot in favour of a continuation of the established saga of the Ewing clan, albeit with a new generation pushed to the fore.

And whaddya know, J.R's son John Ross has grown up to be as much of a smirking, Machiavellian reptile as his father, with sibling rival Christopher proving as benign as his adoptive dad, Bobby. So expect more Cane and Abel histrionics which threaten to TEAR THE FAMILY APART, while the old guard – represented by the likes of Larry Hagman and the astonishingly ageless Patrick Duffy – pull the strings and fret on the sidelines.

Cleverly, it manages to harness everything we loved about Dallas in the first place – that campy bombast and glowering melodrama – whilst never tipping over into outright self-parody. The younger cast may be typical US TV blandroids, but the rodent-like Josh Henderson shows potential as the villainous John Ross, and it's great to see Hagman – whose unruly eyebrows deliver a startling performance of their own – back in the saddle.

This sleek, ridiculous, incident-packed revival may well prove as addictive as the original in its prime. Channel Five – who are hardly known for showing hit dramas – have chosen wisely here.

And ITV, for all its faults, are undeniably skilled at presenting crime-based factual dramas which – despite boasting an innate sense of prurient interest – can never be accused of sensationalising or romanticising their subjects. So it is with MRS BIGGS, a handsomely-mounted five-part drama focusing on the wife of the notorious Great Train Robber.

Written by ITV's head of factual drama Jeff Pope, whose credits include Pierrepoint and See No Evil: The Moors Murders, it shows how the life of this innocent, bright, middle-class girl was rocked forever by her charming rogue of a husband. Although Ronnie is presented as a habitual petty criminal struggling to quash his urges for the sake of the woman he loves, Pope certainly doesn't make any excuses for his actions. And Charmian Biggs, although portrayed sympathetically, is often exasperatingly naïve in her devotion.

Sheridan Smith and Daniel Mays make for captivating, nuanced leads, ably supported by the likes of Jay Simpson as coolly sinister criminal mastermind, Bruce Reynolds. Framed as a tumultuous love story, it's a sensitive and revealing take on familiar territory, and far more thoughtful than the romping likes of Phil Collins vehicle Buster, which essentially treated the whole affair as a bit of a caper.

Mired in fag smoke and jazz, it also presents a convincing depiction of Britain's brown Formica '50s and early '60s, and shows a life of crime for what it is: an interminable mug's game.