Doctor Who "The Church on Ruby Road. Spoiler Free Review.

 The Church on Ruby Road. Written by Russell Davies, directed by Mark Tonderai. Starring Ncuti Gatwa, Millie Gibson, Davina McCall.

 The story, for once, is not an end of a city, end of a world, end of a universe thing. It's not a massive invasion of monsters or aliens bent on world domination or obliteration or whatever the hell. Daleks do not roam, Cyber boots do not stomp, and there's nary an ancient prophesy or apokyclypse in sight. 

 The Doctor, upbeat and out to have a good time for himself on Christmas- taking in the sights on his favorite planet and amongst his favorite species- takes notice of something. And from that builds the plot, introducing the new companion and setting the tone for this incarnation of character and series. 

 Russell T Davies has, I can report, for good or ill, not settled this thing down into a specific genre. He still takes Clarke's Law- any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable by the less advanced from magic- dead to heart. 

 I don't want to spoil anything that the preview hasn't so... if you caught whiff of either Gremlins or Labyrinth in the previews- you're not wrong. Not quite _right_, mind you, but the plot  has clearly seen these movies. 

 Yup. 

 Goblins.

 They make a good villain- not so much evil and bent on worse, but nasty and not entirely compatible with what most of us would find a good night out. 

 It all works out- in the typical way. Though not in a typically Doctorish way. Ncuti's Doctor- due to some handwavium in the last Tennant/Tate special- is, probably for the first time we have _ever_ seen the character, in the entire history of the show... not in a mood. He's not running from anything, to anything, or obsessed with issues from his past.  

 He's not so much over all of that as... accepting of it all. Shit happened, in his _thousands_ of years of life. Lot of it bad, lot of it he could not make better. But rather than this placing a hole in his heart or a bleak tinge to his character, this Doctor has perspective on it all. He is not distant, not emotionally blocked up. not secretly anything. He's a young man, out to have a good time, willing to help out if and when needed. Very much, in this version, a cheerful sort. 

 There was a lot of chatter about the Doctor's sexuality when Ncuti was cast- in that the showrunner and actor are openly gay- a phrase I loathe but which still bears. 

 Wrong worry, fanbase. 

 What's going to be harder to deal with, I think, for long term fans, is the Doctor as happy. A little of Bugs Bunny's love of mischief to him. a little flash of temper here and there, but basically, a happy rascal. 

 The moodiness, the broodiness, the Doctor literally withdrawing from everything to live in isolation in a cloud, or peevish because of what's been done or what's happened... Poof. Now, he does _react_ to what happens, but it's not flashing out of an endless puddle of gloom.

 There will be comparisons to other versions of the Doctor, in the show's 60 year history. Inevitable, I think.  Some will see the dash of the Third, or the goofiness of the Fourth. Others might see a lot of the Tenth and Eleventh in this. 

 All wrong. This is someting new. The sunny Doctor, the basically happy Doctor, the young and in love with life Doctor. 

 I like it. I like it a lot.

 Millie Gibson's companion, Ruby Sunday, is actually more like the general version of the Doctor than the Doctor. She's moody, broody about her life and circumstance, looking to figure out her own history and commanding.  

 There is a late in the episode twist- remember Davies now, do you, as a writer?- that I very much enjoyed. It's something Steven Moffat might have pulled, actually- a serious yank on the crank that may or not mean anything serious, but which is certainly going to wind up the fanbase and build speculation, the clear intent of the thing. When I say it reminds me of Moffat- prior showrunner and head writer, two back from Davies- I mean that it's a decreasing radius of a turn sort of thing, getting spookier as it rattles along- that reminds me of Moffat's work on the Hyde mini series, from many years back. 

 Or- for my friend Sean- I might better put it as a stinger right of of the EC playbook. Heh. Heh. Heh., 

 9.5 of 10. Did what I wanted, with style, enjoyed myself. 

Errata:

That half a point deduction is for the latest incarnation of the goddamned sonic screwdriver. Which- this time- looks more Star Trek than Doctor Who and less like a screw driver than ever. This tool has grown so far from original intent that I suppose I ought to be grateful they didn't just go with the wind on this and make it a full on wizard's wand, but even _that_ would have been more interesting and less annoyingly designed. Thought 13's was janky, did you? Thought 12's a bit over the top. Wait. 

 Just in case, Ncuti's name is pronounced Shootie. Shootie GATwa, in full. I'd been saying it wrong for a year, so. 

 Once again, the budget is clearly pretty high. Full scale sets where there used to be corridors and doors, practical effects blended well with computer stuff. The goblins looked good, and I wouldn't mind seeing them come back, either. Give me a hungry villain with a propensity for practical jokes any day. 

 Love the new TARDIS peek inside the door effect. When they started this,way back in 2005, it was generally a photo stand up applied to the interior back wall of the police box prop. Careful lighting and angles and all. This time, it accounts for movement and changes in angle. It looks much better. Much more like you are actually seeing into the console room. 

 By the by. that's the proper term. Not control room, not bridge. Console room. 

 He doesn't get a chance, here, but Ncuti, if they ever get around to it, is gonna make a brilliant shouty speechifier, in the grand tradition. Better than Tennant, not quite as good as either Tom Baker or Peter Capaldi. 

 

 

MAGA Mike Johnson

 Trump's choice for Speaker of The House has been granted the imperial nick name. MAGA Mike Johnson.

Of course.

Speaker Johnson was and is an election denier and was one of the architects of the plan to overturn the election of President Biden. Johnson is against LGTBQ Rights, Civil Rights and is apparently a christian dominionist.

Take a moment, if you have not, Go read Agenda 47. Trump's published plan- sorry, really, "plan" for his final term. Granted, most such "plans" rarely survive, like battle plans, engagement with the opposition. But it is well worth your time. There are videos, but there is also text.

It's basically about rolling back every social change in this nation since the fifties. Stop Green policies, forget about climate change, destroy public education and "agendize" the Bowdlerization of our history in favor of the heroified history as mis-taught by people who were afraid of an educated US electorate pushing back against the right wing agenda of that time. Slavery? Wasn't that _good_ for black people? Got them out of Africa, taught them skills? Women? Shouldn't they be working at home, raising a strong family, not working and interfering in politics. There's also union busting and concentration camps for the homeless and other undesirables.

And the Speaker of The House, who controls the sort of legislation that Congress creates- he's a supporter. The Speaker of The House can also manipulate the certification of the next presidential election, he's a supporter.

So. Centrist, are you? Both sider? Think that politics should be about compromise, and the US should be a _global_ partner in things?

We agree. Democrats and republicans, pro and re gressives ought to work together. Maybe WE don't get an assault weapons ban, but maybe THEY don't get their goddamned concentration camps.

And let's be perfectly fucking clear. Dedicating swaths of cheap land across the nation for camps for homeless people- no matter what kinda support you pledge?

Can they leave?

When they want to?

Camp. Open air prison.

The thing to be wary of, here? Two things, actually.

One. The people who seem to be ascendant in our government, local, state and federal? They're not compromisers. They're my way or the highway, I'm right, you're wrong, burn it all down, scorch the earth and salt the ground so nothing ever grows types. Most believe that their version of god favors it. Most believe that they are on the verge of being exterminated if they falter in pushing for it.

Two. The political powers that were, the pundits- everyone underestimated the MAGA movement. They belittled it and they cast scorn on it. There was a lot of "people can't be this stupid" denial thrown around, and a lot of "they can't" sprinkled on top.

Some of these people are, in fact, dumber than a post pounded into cow shit. Watch Jordan Klepper's Daily Show segments, where he goes out and asks fairly simple questions at MAGA rallies, Trump rallies.

Holy mother of GOD, he finds some winners.

But they aren't _all_ dumb. Not at all. I have friends who support MAGA, and they aren't morons. They're just wrong. And they've bought into a belief system that supports what they feel has gone wrong in our society. That provides what are, to them, acceptable solutions.

Same as you and me, Spanky. Same as you and me.

The problem isn't so much what they believe as it is the inflexibility of that belief.

And they are not going to be easily defeated or pushed back against or handled.

Okay, then. What's a reasonable sort of lefty/progressive/centrist to do?

I'm not going to give you a plan here. I am sure there are plans floating around all over the place, find one you like.

But I do want you to be aware of what you're up against when you do plan. And I do want you to take these people seriously. They want what they want, and they look at you as an enemy to be crushed and driven into the nearest sea.

Creative Obligations Versus Creative Rights

 I have what I believe to be a pretty good story, sitting in my head. I know the plot, the characters and most of the scenes. I have the dialogue.

 Action, adventure, romance, comedy. This story has it all. Opening scene? Could go in several different directions: A call girl, at a bachelor party, trying to explain to the drunken groom why she's worth more than the hookers giving blow-jobs in the bathrooms.  A small plane, daredevil pilot and drunken passengers, flying under a rural bridge, very late at night. Two men, sitting at a bar, drinking beer, waiting for the blotter acid to kick in. A naked man, standing on a balcony, yelling down at a room full of partiers, telling a man to get up into the bedroom and fuck his wife.  Because she wants him as much as he wants her, and he's tired of pretending it's not true. A cab driver, parking beside a tent in a field, a wedding party assembled, swinging his meter off, and telling his fare he'll wait to either take two people the hell away from there in a hurry, or to take the man off someplace to get drunk. 

 Each could kick it off well. Each supports the overall story. 

 I have not committed a line of it to paper. Have not opened a file. I think about it a couple times a year. I think about chopping it up, using the bits as parts of other stories. As jumping off points. I think - what the hell, just get it out get it down, get it out of my head. See if it is as good as I think it will be. 

 Never have. Not sure I ever will. 

 Because parts of it are based on the lives of real people. People who might be damaged by the story. Even if no one but them recognized the truth in it. And thinking about any one of them, sitting with the knowledge that this story is out in public. People laughing at the funny bits, tearing up at the sad bits, cheering at the adventurous bits- and them thinking... "That's not the way it really happened. That's not what I really said." Or did or thought or felt. 

 Sitting there with the results of all the decisions I made without their input, in telling stories of their lives. 

 Sitting there with my decision to use their lives to tell the story I wanted to tell. 

 It bothers me. It worries me. It concerns me, in the most serious version of each phrase. 

 This is the awesome, the terrifying reality of being a writer. If you are telling stories or using characters that are in any way based on reality- touching on real people and their real lives?

 You can change what happened to suit what you want to have happened.  Higgins and Eliza, in your story, will end up together. The well qualified candidate will win the office. The lost race will be won, the sad romance made happy, the losers victorious. 

 The question is- should you? 

 To me, a writer always has the obligation, fact or fiction, to get the story right. If working from a basis in reality, that reality must be respected. If working with people's lives, those lives must be respected. 

Your version of that person, of that sequence of events, may not, in the end, have more than a cursory resemblance to the actuality. But that semblance must be honest.  

 I can do that. But if I do, I have to do it with clean hands. And in the case of this story, that means telling things that will almost certainly hurt people to see or read. 

 So the story sits in my head. Waiting until such a time as I believe that I can tell it well enough and honest enough that anyone who sees themselves in it will accept that it was respectfully done. That, even if events in the story do not start, stop or end as they did in real life, the echo of real life is there. 

 But man, oh man, is it tempting.

 Thoughts, please?

 

The Cheeseburger- more reaction to The Menu

 Featured in the 2022 movie "The Menu" is a request for a simple, well made cheeseburger. The preparation of which is shown in the glossiest style imagined by any pornographer. 

 If you've never seen it, search for clips from "Nigella Bites" for plentiful examples of the style. Dramatic lighting, lingering shots of oily food moving languidly, etcetera. 

 Food porn is not a new phrase, but I want you to understand my meaning. It's a series of techniques that render food- on the screen- as almost unbearably appealing. You can practically smell it, taste it. 

 In the case of this cheeseburger, I've read lusty, desirous reactions from confirmed vegetarians- it looks that good. 

 It ignited a craving in me, so last night I made one. And it tasted as good as it looked. 

 The "Well made cheeseburger" from "The Menu":

It's not complicated. To make 2: A pound of decent ground beef, separated into 4 equally sized balls, kept cold until cooked. Good quality hamburger buns, about a quarter of a small white onion, thinly sliced, and 4 slices of Kraft Deli Deluxe American Cheese. Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper. 2-4 pickle slices per burger. 

You need a pan- not non stick- with a thick bottom, one that can take high heat. Cast iron or carbon steel would be good, and you will need a sturdy spatula- thin, metal- and possibly a paint scraper. A burger or bacon press would be good here, but you can get by. Also, a folded bit of parchment paper.

Toast your buns. You can put them in a toaster, spread with butter and pop them in the oven, or be all "I'm a professional" and toast the insides in melted butter in a pan. Top the bottom bun with pickles. If you like a sauce, like mayonnaise or mustard and ketchup- whatever- put that on the top bun. Set aside.

For the burgers:

Heat the pan until a water drop squirted on the surface skitters. Then slam the balls of meat down, and, putting the parchment paper on top of each beforehand- so the spatula does not stick-smash them- hard- with the sturdy spatula. Depending on your pan, you may be able to put in all four balls, but I would start with _two_.  Two patties = 1 cheeseburger.

Season the top of the patties with salt and pepper. Don't coat them, don't make it look like the salt snowed down. But, a good amount.

Spread about a tablespoon of thin sliced onion on each.

By this time, they should be almost done. Red in the center, greyish around the sides. Carefully, flip. If it seems to stick, use the paint scraper to get the crust off with it. Flip so that the onions are under the patty.

Let them cook for a minute or two, then drape the cheese on top.

When it melts to drippy, even looks like it is getting crusty around the edges, put one patty on top of the other-careful to get all the onions- then put them on the bun.

That's really it. Use mayonnaise or ketchup, mustard- whatever you favor- on the top bun, if you like a dressed burger. If you like bacon, you could cook some, and put the bacon between the patties when you finish. 

I would advise against lettuce, tomato, all of that- but you do you.

Delicious, basic stuff.

My issue here is that I cannot get my glass cooktop hot enough to make this quite as I would like. So my burgers lack the precise crust that I want. But if you have nice loopy metal burners or a gas stove, this is gonna go well. 

 

The Menu- Now Streaming. A Reaction, As Much As A Review.

 The Menu, a 2022 movie, now streaming. Written by Seth Reiss and Will Tracy. Directed by Mark Mylod. With Anya Taylor-Joy, Ralph Fiennes, John Lequizamo, Nicholas Hoult.

 Bear with me. A little detour. 

 Atelier Crenn. A restaurant run by chef Dominique Crenn. San Francisco, currently awarded three Michelin stars. 

 Basically- they do French seafood, using molecular gastronomy and a whole bunch of other preparation tricks. You get a menu of poetry that allegedly describes each dish, and you eat what turns up. 

 Obviously, the food is good- Michelin does not give out stars easily, and three are almost unheard of. 

 But the whole approach is enraging. 

 From the pretentious website- which features not one, but two ballet dancers moving around a rocky shore, but which deigns to give little useful information save a link to the reservation requesting site- to the carefully deconstructed food served- essences of this, with foams and bubbles and so on- it's had my teeth clenched since I first read of Crenn and her restaurant. 

 I didn't understand why until I watched The Menu. I was fascinated by the pretension- this is food assembled on custom made plates with tweezers. Food where you can expect sea water slush to melt around your scallop and slightly flavor the barely steamed, locally sourced, hand picked bits of vegetable, clinging to the rock- from a local beach- on which it is all served.  All meant to evoke something- a memory, a moment, a sense of money leaving your wallet, having paid for nonsense. Annoying, certainly. Over the top, over done. But enraging? Infuriating?  My own reaction seemed as over the top as Crenn. 

 Then, The Menu. And I got it. 

  The Menu features Ralph Fiennes as the executive chef of the ultimate Crenn-ish restaurant, Hawthorn. Hawthorn exists - by itself- on a small coastal island.

 The movie features a lot of artistically prepared and plated food. The restaurant looks very real- from the high end open kitchen to the uniforms worn by the staff to the architecture of the dining room. Fiennes moves through all exactly like the sort of chef he plays, by turns self effacing and dictatorial. The actors playing his staff act and react exactly as you would expect. 

 All of which is blue grey and cold. Distant and abstracted. The menu is filled with foams and gels and tiny bits of stuff here and there. Very little of it actually looks like food. It's more like paintings and sculpture than food. The military precision of the cooks and staff are immediately menacing.

 Which is part of the point of The Menu. 

 The Menu is about what happens when food- and people- are deconstructed. When it all starts to lose its purpose- and becomes self referential. Hawthorn serves food that is disconnected from eating. From nourishment. It's there only for the experience it evokes. As are the diners. 

 It's dark stuff. I think it was meant to be a dark comedy, but, like the food and the people, it's a bit too refined to land with purpose. Top notch production- everything is well done. But it sort of, in the end, seems like a joke that's missing a punch line.

 I am not implying that the story is incomplete. But the last scene tries to invoke the feeling of the last panel of an old EC Comic. That piss shiver of morbid delight. When what's got fits what's been coming, and Karma blows a kiss from her new Barbie Dreamhouse. 

And it doesn't quite manage. 

 Because something in the movie just does not set that up. 

 To me?

 It's a sense of fun. This sort of story cries out for some snark, some snicker, for someone in this mess, as things move along into conflict, to have a twinkle in their eye. No one does. Which lets things dip into maudlin, into drear. The story wants an in for the audience, a sympathetic character with whom we can relate. Humor would help define that character- and that character is there, I am trying to avoid spoilers- but is as sere and humorless as everyone else. 

 In other words- it takes itself too seriously.

  Once it was over, I looked at the production credits. All the beautiful numb food-?

  Dominque Crenn.

  Oh, of course. 

  THAT, for me, is a better ending than what is in the movie. Finding out that the food, hell, the overall experience of Hawthorn, was crafted by exactly the sort of people whom the movie wants to stab with a fondue fork. 

 I think the movie was created by and for people who are utterly sick of the foodie bullshit. Of people stopping to photograph and catalog their food before taking a fork to it. Of people deconstructing everything into little abstract shapes and blobs that tell _stories_ and evoke memories. Of _experience_ dining. Of having a score of courses served to you and leaving the restaurant hungry. 

 That they got one of the leading practitioners of that kind of thing to set up their version of it? Had there been a way to work that into things, it would have been just the right note of droll humor. 

 Ah well.

5 of 10 points for the well observed, exacting recreation of Foodie Heaven, in Hawthorne. And another 3 for both Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy's performances. Final score, 8 of 10.

Errata:

The supporting cast in this is superbly chosen. It's a pity that they aren't given more to do, and that their back stories not more clearly indicated. Would have helped. We're meant to empathize with their plight, but the lack of character details- and one late in the game revelation- makes that extremely difficult. 

A marriage is in trouble? An investment group is in trouble? The rich and famous actor is a bit desperate? One woman who turned up is not who was supposed to turn up?

Fine. But we need more information to care. And we don't really get it. 

The old lady, sitting by herself through dinner service- just drinking. We find out who she is, late in the game. But we get no reaction from her- and as things move along, I think there should be a reaction. That really seems a waste to me. Because she- as is revealed- should absolutely understand where things are headed. And she could have some agency.  Be able to gin up some conflict, some opposition.

I wonder if all of that - which, to me, seems clearly called for- is absent due to a desire to streamline the script?