Top Five Big Damn Hero Moments: Clyde Langer (The Sarah Jane Adventures)

(Note:  I'm out of town at the moment without access to my Sarah Jane DVDs, so I can't grab any screencaps.  I'll add pictures to this post tomorrow.)

 

I still have a few more recurring new Whocharacters to give a Top Five to, but I figured I might as well get started on the spin-offs.  There’s a lot to love about Clyde; here are five good reasons (spoilers.)

Deducing the Slitheen’s Weakness (Series 1, Episode 2 – “Revenge of the Slitheen:  Part 2”)

Mr. Smith has been disabled just before he can tell our heroes what common kitchen ingredient can destroy the Slitheen, and Clyde, in his first rodeo with Team Sarah Jane, works out what it is.  He remembers how the Slitheen disguised as his teacher reacted to the cold chip sandwich he brought to school and, reasoning that bread, salt, and potatoes are too ubiquitous to be the answer, realizes that it has to be the vinegar.  Not bad for a tagalong!

Communicating with the Outside World (Series 1, Episode 10 – “The Lost Boy:  Part 2”)

I love Clyde’s spidey sense about realizing when something’s not on the up-and-up, but it does tend to get him sidelined by the villains, since he’s not too discreet about revealing his suspicions.  Here, he’s trapped inside an alien computer (never mind how that works,) and he still manages to help, mentally sending a message to the Jacksons’ computer so the others will know who the bad guy/computer is.  (Also, bonus points for correctly visualizing the layout of a keyboard.)

Finishing Off Odd Bob (Series 2, Episode 4 – “Day of the Clown:  Part 2”)

Yes – using laughter to destroy an alien that feeds on fear is super cheesy, as are the incredibly lame jokes Clyde tells to get the job done, but I love this moment anyway.  Maybe it’s because Clyde has spent a lot of time getting criticized for being a “class clown,” with people confusing levity for trouble-making.  In light of that, I like seeing him use this quality to save the day, and I love how pleased he is with himself about it!

Realizing the Truth about Gavin (Series 4, Episode 8 – “The Empty Planet:  Part 2”)

More of Clyde’s spidey sense.  Gavin isn’t the villain here, but Clyde gets that something’s up.  He notes the lack of kid-friendly anything at Gavin’s flat – from the absence of DVDs and video games to the “rubbish biscuits” (cookie) – and while Rani takes that to mean Gavin’s life is rougher than theirs, Clyde sees it as something more, which helps lead them to the truth of who Gavin really is.

Standing Up to Frickin’ Nazis (Series 4, Episode 10 – “Lost in Time:  Part 2”)

Yep, this scene again.  Sick of it yet?  Me, neither.  Not only does Clyde call out an officer who’s racist to him, but he also taunts the Nazis with his foreknowledge of their eventual loss and buys himself just enough time to escape them by making them think his superior future technology (ie, his phone) is a high-tech bomb.  Clyde Langer for the win!

Character Highlight: Wilfred Mott (Doctor Who)

There’s just something about Wilf.  With Sylvia around, Donna clearly needed some goodness in her life before she joined the Doctor, and Wilf is just the ticket.  The character adds to the humor, warmth, and sense of wonder in series 4, and although my feelings about “The End of Time” are mixed at best, I am glad that Wilf got a shot in an adventure of his own (a few Wilf-related spoilers.)

We don’t meet Wilf for the first time in “Partners in Crime.”  He makes his initial appearance before that in the Christmas special, in which he sells newspapers and shakes his fist at the sky, warning all “them aliens” not to attack London a third Christmas in a row.  There’s nothing in that episode to indicate he has any connection with Donna, but when “Partners in Crime” rolls around and Donna goes “up the hill” to see her grandpa and his telescope, there’s that little news vendor again.  That first scene with him and Donna is enough to make me love him, because I want all the best for Donna and it’s clear that they have a lovely relationship.  As Sylvia pessimistically critiques her daughter and father in equal measure, Donna and Wilf are both dreamers in their own way, and Donna is even able to speak to him – albeit obliquely – about her previous encounter with the Doctor.  When Donna does find the Doctor again, I love that she has him fly the TARDIS by Wilf’s star-gazing spot before taking off, letting him in on the fact that she’s leaving as well as giving him a sight for the ages.

Like the best “companion’s family” characters, Wilf worries for Donna’s safety, but he ultimately knows that she shouldn’t trade the incredible adventure she’s having for a more secure life.  He stands up for Donna when Sylvia finds out about the Doctor, and even as he frets over her when things hit the fan, alien-wise, in London, he encourages her to get out there and do what she can to help.  And Wilf doesn’t just talk the talk:  during the “stolen Earth” incident at the end of series 4, he takes to the streets with a paintball gun, planning to shoot the Daleks in the eyestalks and blind them (that is such a Doctor Who thing to do – I love it.)

Like I said, my overall feelings about “The End of Time” aside, I love that Wilf gets to be an actual companion.  Like any other companion, his reactions to the big alien goings-on range from flabbergasted (calling the Vinvocci “cactus” people) to horrified (watching the Master subsume the human race) to awed (looking down on the Earth from his vantage point on the Vinvocci ship.)  Unfortunately, he doesn’t get too many big moments as a companion.  His most hands-on scene is probably the one where he uses the Vinvocci’s asteroid lasers to shoot the missiles the Master launches at them, and before the actual companioning starts, he does an impressive bit of sleuthing to track down the Doctor with the aid of the “Silver Cloak,” his pensioner friends with their ears to the ground.  Aside from that, his larger purpose as a companion is to be someone the Doctor can have weighty conversations with.  Not that this is always a good thing, since Ten is rapidly approaching critical angst mass within the first fifteen minutes of this story and throwing in a teary Wilf isn’t playing fair, so some of this can be a bit much.  Other scenes between them, however, are really lovely.  It’s to see the Doctor relating to an old man asan old man, and because Wilf has been connected to the Doctor through Donna but has never traveled with the Doctor himself, he’s as just about the right level of familiarity:  close enough to be able to get what’s going on with the Doctor, but still removed enough that he can get real when he needs to.

Top Five Songs: Dessa Rose

As far as Ahrens & Flaherty musicals go, Dessa Rose is a little hit-or-miss for me, but as is usual with this composing duo, when they’re on, they’re reallyon.  Here are my favorite songs from the show.

“Ol’ Banjar” – I feel Dessa Rose puts a bit too shiny a veneer on its story at times, but even though this is an upbeat song, it works for me.  That’s because it’s specifically about clinging to the few good things that make life bearable, and for Kaine, that’s two things:  music and Dessa Rose.  The simple but lovely tune fits it to a tee.

Best line:  “Ain’t no white folks down in Africa, / Ain’t no white folks near or far. / You own yourself / And you own your soul / and the music of ol’ banjar.”

“Something of My Own” – Just like music gives Kaine happiness, Dessa Rose’s unborn child gives her both hope and strength.  Her ode to how her child is already changing her and everything she’ll do on its behalf (especially her vow to “only name him free”) is gorgeous.

Best line:  “I could be as strong as thunder / With his hand in mine. / Tear the very storm asunder. / Make the sun to shine.”

“Twelve Children” – The Act I finale is a stunning showcase for Dessa Rose, introducing her newborn daughter to the stories of all the family she’s lost.  This beautifully-understated song validates Dessa Rose’s lost brothers and sisters, despite the repeated indifference of the white masters.

Best line:  “Some sold away. / Some passed away. / Some run. / Twelve children brought from her body. / All gone but one.”

“Better If I Died” – This is such a great drama!! song, with a strong driving rhythm and fantastic harmonies between Ruth and Dessa Rose.  It’s a fine release for everything that’s been building up between them in the second act.

Best line:  “Nothing more to ruin. / Nothing left to say…” – “Nothing left to take away.”

“Just over the Line” – Full disclosure:  I mostly love this song because the chorus is so blame catchy.  It pulls me in every time.  Plot-wise, I find it fairly incredulous, but ooh!  That music, especially when Nathan sings it; in general, I don’t think the show makes great use of Norm Lewis’s talents, but he’s just wonderful here.

Best line:  “Tuscaloosa, Pickens, Greene. / Counties we ain’t never seen. / But look who’s here! / Just over the line.”

V for Vendetta (2005, R)

After going back to read the graphic novel, I thought it was high time I watched this film again.  While it’s very different from the book, I still like it a lot.  In fact, I think I still might prefer it to the book, and not just because I saw it first.

As in the graphic novel, Evey Hammond’s life is forever changed by a chance encounter with an enigmatic masked man called V.  Saving her from danger at a crucial moment, V makes Evey witness to the first stage of his plan to dismantle England’s fascist government, at the same time taking his revenge on the powerful people who committed atrocities against him years before.  Evey is torn between her fear of the compelling terrorist and a desire to see the change he promises.

Like I said, there are a lot of alterations here.  Overall, the story feels much more streamlined, keeping the main focal points on Evey, V, and Finch, the investigator trying to apprehend him.  A fair amount of plot development on the other side, the goings-on of the various government departments complete with corruption, backstabbing, and secret agendas, has been excised, and for the most part, I don’t mind the loss.  However, the condensing of some big framework stuff – the backdrop on the rise of the fascist government in England, and the exploration of undesirables under the new order – feels more “bite-sized” in the movie, more simplistic with clearly-drawn lines between points A, B, and C.  In that case, the snipping doesn’t work as well for me.

V, though, is just as cool as he is in the book.  Maybe a skosh less remote, but still every bit as theatrical, complicated, and mysterious.  Hugo Weaving does a great job with the character, such that you really don’t mind that his facial expressions are hidden behind a Guy Fawkes mask the entire movie.  I think I like Evey a little better here; I spent much of the book feeling frustrated with her and wishing she was stronger.  In the film, she still goes through quite the journey and changes a lot as a character, but she starts changing in small ways almost immediately (it helps that much of the “sexual survival” stuff I complained about from the book is either gone or very understated.)  Natalie Portman balances Evey’s fragile beginnings with her endurance and powerful transformation very nicely.

Plenty of familiar British faces getting in on the action.  John Hurt himself is England’s chancellor, and between the police and the government departments, we get Roger Allam (Peter from The Thick of It,) Rupert Graves (Lestrade from Sherlock,) and Ben Miles (Patrick from Coupling.)  But for me, the supporting-character MVP is Stephen Fry as Evey’s boss, a popular media personality who’s much more than he seems at first.  He has a great scene with Evey that I remembered from my first viewing of the film, years ago, just as well as the excellently-realized big moments, like V’s opening act or the prison sequence.

Warnings

Strong violence, sexual content (including references to pedophilia,) language, and strong thematic elements (including war crimes.)

Character Highlight: Rhys Williams (Torchwood)

Sometimes comic relief, sometimes source of romantic drama, sometimes convenient damsel, sometimes surprisingly helpful.  At his worst, Gwen’s bloke is a walking symbol of Dull Everyday Life Before Torchwood, contrasted with the fascinating, dashing Jack, but at his best, he’s a pretty good example of An Ordinary Man Holding His Own Against the Impossible (Rhys-related spoilers.)

The majority of shows that mix the real world with sci-fi/superheroes/the supernatural require the main character “in the know” to have a loved one with no idea what’s going on.  It’s a well-worn trope; as I pointed out, this loved one can be an endless well of secret-keeping hijinks, angst from the main character having to lie to them (often accompanied by strain on the relationship,) and crises involving the loved one unknowingly getting caught up in the danger.  While this loved one is often a romantic partner, it’s also usually a girlfriend or wife, which is a box Rhys obviously doesn’t fit.  However, the gender really doesn’t make the trope any more enjoyable.  This dynamic almost invariably frustrates me, because keeping such enormous secrets upsets the balance of the relationship, and even though the average person naturally isn’t going to suspect that their girlfriend catches aliens for a living, the viewers know what’s really going on, and so the continued obliviousness makes the loved one look dumb by comparison.

This is where Rhys sits for much of series 1.  It’s not a great look, and it’s compounded by the fact that Gwen is basically a mess as she struggles to adjust to life in Torchwood and treats him pretty badly as a result.  You get the sense that the aura the writers are going for is, “Look at the poor lug – he has no idea,” and while Kai Owen’s performance paints a decent picture of an affable Regular Joe who can’t figure out why his girlfriend has started acting so weird and shifty all the time, it’s not terribly exciting to see.

Things improve when, early in series 2, Rhys gets wise to all the alien business.  No longer being in the dark almost always helps characters like this, and Rhys starts coming off better almost right away.  I like that he doesn’t find out through a slip of the tongue or stumbling accidentally into irrefutable evidence, as often happens in these situations.  Rather, the alien plot of the week tangentially enters his circle, affecting one of his employees, and when Rhys discovers that Gwen is involved in whatever’s going on, he takes it upon himself to investigate.  By the time he confronts her about it, he’s already learned quite a lot, and he’s ready to help, doing a nice bit of undercover work and putting himself in danger during the mission.  From there, his contributions to Torchwood are occasional but generally good.  Even if he doesn’t run around guns blazing or have many special skills, he’s a dependable extra hand who’s an asset, not a liability.

I also like that, although the realization that Gwen is in Torchwood freaks Rhys out and makes him worry for her safety, he doesn’t try to make her quit.  There’s some “What were you thinking?” stuff, and I don’t like him grilling Jack about why he recruited Gwen, but he never says, “This is too dangerous; I’m not having it.”  In fact, when he helps with that first mission, it’s really more about him than Gwen.  He doesn’t demand to go along to keep an eye on Gwen or anything like that, instead insisting that he’d be valuable to the mission because he’s already established contact with certain persons of interest and can help the team get in.  I appreciate that – he’s worried, as anyone would be, but he also doesn’t interfere with Gwen’s choices.