October 22nd, 2018

Turning Cold

 I'm moving into my winter wear- fingerless gloves, body warmer, scarf, hat. I'm not wearing all of them all the time but I'm keeping them handy. It got a bit windy last night and the temperature has dropped. One of  Last night's weather maps showed the UK cradled in a great loop of blue, arctic air. The sun is shining and I'm not seeing any clouds.

Chris Chibnall's Dr Who

Jodie Whittaker's Doctor is all bustle and bounce. No introspection or retrospection- but perhaps that will come. She's a tyke. Scrappy. Yorkshire.

Three companions is a lot to handle. The man and the boy have a pre-existing- edgy- relationship, the girl and the boy a tenuous one.  The girl is under-used but it's early days. The Doctor is their organiser, their team leader- though some chemistry is beginning to show between the her and the man- not sexual (God forbid) but matey.

Chris Chibnall is a boots and braces kind of a writer. His stories are less fantastical, less comical than those of his immediate predecessors. He's more interested in human beings than aliens (and to be frank the aliens thus far have been a bit perfunctory.) The third episode- co-written with Malorie Blackman- is one that will stick in the memory-   firstly for immersing us in its recreation of Montgomery, Alabama, 1955 (not a comfortable experience) and the performances of Vinette Robinson as Rosa Parks- a characterisation that went remarkably deep considering how little time it had to develop in- and Bradley Walsh as poor, hapless Graham- suckered into playing the role of a bus-riding white racist so history could take its course. Who knew the genial host of Countdown was such a subtle actor?