written by Russell T. Davies; produced by Phil Collinson; directed by Dan Zeff
The pre-titles sequence certainly doesn't set too many warning bells going. On the contrary, the classy direction and good use of music and sound effects hold a lot of promise, and certainly this is one of the programmes most technically innovative episodes. Unfortunately, after the title sequence we get hit in the chops with an absolutely abominable comedy scene: ooh! Rose chases a monster down a corridor! Aah! It chases her back! While it'd be very easy to intellectualise a clever get out about this being a postmodern, poststructuralist episode where events are skewed through the eyes of a single, not altogether reliable narrator (I just did it there, see?) you'd still be fundamentally trying to excuse a scene of monumental self-indulgence from a writer who can muck about because, well, he knows he can get away with it. I see echoes of The Chase to all this: that same attitude of �we can do what we like and get millions of viewers anyway� that leaves a bitter aftertaste, even if the episode itself is quite enjoyable; and Tennant's comedy acting would mean something if three-quarters of his scenes weren't played like that anyway, with his voice coming out in that peculiar melted slur whenever anything funny happens. Or, more accurately, whenever anything that's supposed to be funny happens.
One feature of Love & Monsters is that it veers so sharply between good and bad that you have to hold tight in order to avoid being flung off at the corners. So it is that we now meet Elton properly, and he's immediately an intensely likeable character. The technical excellence of the story's structure peeks its head up again with the quick, controlled flashbacks; Marc Warren is excellent, and the dialogue is peppered with tiny little details that enter the brain unnoticed and add to the sense of reality. After a good beginning, a dreadful scene, the episode has suddenly become worth watching again: it's all a bit too much to take. The series one flashbacks are welcome, and cleverly reshot, although they do have the side-effect of making me nostalgic for the largely superior first series � and they demonstrate a desire to wheel out the shot of the Slitheen spacecraft hitting Big Ben yet again. It's a good shot and everything, but...
These scenes, enjoyable though they are, tread a wobbling tightrope between playing with the form for artistic reasons and playing with the form for the sake of mucking about: the sequences of Elton dancing to ELO threaten to overdo things by a few notches. But then the episode manages to do the impossible: give the tenth Doctor a sense of mystique. Captain Wacky actually becomes, for a few brief minutes, an alluring character. Full marks for that alone, surely. There's never been a better Doctor to keep out of an episode. This is down to LINDA, and unfortunately, that's another feature of the episode that's hard to gauge. So they're fans, right? That's what they represent, right? Right. But this means that whether or not they're likeable characters in their own right there's always going to be an increased comparison with real life with them, and consequently I can't help but feel it was the wrong decision to cast them as a bunch of exaggerations defined by a single trait: the nerd, the emotional one, the artistic hippy, etcetera. With the introduction of Peter Kay the episode seems not to know that it technically isn't a sitcom, and wobbles uncertainly. Kay, like the rest of the episode, is just plain weird, compelling and cringe-inducing in more or less equal measures. His anti-bleeding heart attitude is odd as well, considering he's designed to represent the dark side of fandom. Is he the type who disapproves of the new series's constant mawkishness? Is he � shock horror � the type who prefers the original series? It's not definitive, but it's an insulting possibility. The overall message as well - �remember to get some fresh air occasionally, chaps� - is a bit galling too, while we're on the subject.
And yet, some of the comedy moments have an oddly naturalistic feel, such as Elton's meeting with Jackie in the launderette. For a time again, the episode actually works. Sometimes I wish it was all just a bad episode, because then I could just slap a one-star rating on it and forget about it, but it isn't. It's very annoying, and I'm getting annoyed sat here typing my notes up, but a turkey it is not. That's an excessive judgement. Scenes like the ones with Jackie and Elton that rescue it really: charming, and actually genuinely funny. Russell T. Davies really shows his strengths as a writer here: it's just a shame what he's writing here isn't Doctor Who and could never hope to work as anything other than a one-off: for Love & Monsters to exist in context, it must remain firmly out of context. That seems like a paradox: so does the episode. Which means that Jackie's come-on to Elton, a smash-and-grab scene that takes every clich� in the book, can be just about forgiven. The aftermath is genuinely good anyhow, and her confronting him with the truth of his presence is the episode's highlight � and actually, now that I think about it, one of the best scenes of the entire second series.
Here's where it goes really wrong. And when I say really wrong, I mean some of the worst ideas and scenes ever shown in anything with (occasional) pretensions at being serious drama. I don't mean to sound heartless, but when you let a nine year-old design a monster, you end up with a monster designed by a nine year-old. When you let Davies write it and a comedian play the part, you take a concept that might conceivably have worked in some other universe and grind it into the dirt until there's nothing left of an essentially solid idea: a monster that absorbs people into its skin. But this isn't a monster that's being brought to the screen by Russell T. Davies, writer: this is a monster being brought to the screen by Russell T. Davies, puppet-master, someone wrecking a promising episode seemingly on whim. It's enough to turn a man to drink. (Amusingly, my spellchecker suggested I replace �Absorbaloff� with �self-absorbed�. I can't say I wasn't tempted). It really boggles the mind that an episode can have such brilliance and such awfulness on screen at virtually the same time � it's a majestic sight, seeing the TARDIS finally arrive � and while truly terrible lines like �now I'm absorbed I can read his thoughts� make my stomach turn they do at least root the episode in more familiar territory of lazy deus ex machina plot developments. They may be useless, but at least they fit the bigger picture. The planet �Clom� is also used as a quickie gag, as opposed to a joke: a good joke is something that arises out of the story and feels natural, whereas a gag should have a laughter track behind it (or at the very least, Mystery Science Theatre 3000). This is very definitely the latter. The Absorbaloff is finally defeated by having his magic wand snapped. I shouldn't have expected better, really.
All this means that whatever credibility the episode had � and it did have some, I'm not being disingenuous here � goes swirling down the plughole. Now, having removed all inherent plausibility, the trademarked emotional journey is supposed to make us care that Ursula has been absorbed and that Elton is next, but since I can't believe in the threat then I can't emote for the characters. I can't laugh at them either, and it really seems like the episode is expecting us to do both at once at times. Neither works. The nasty, distasteful scene where the Doctor uses his own magic wand to assign Ursula to an ageless limbo state, able to talk and breathe despite not having any heart or lungs, is much the same...and no, the oral sex reference is not underplayed. It would be, were it not for the self-conscious �let's not go into that� line, but people might not get it that way. If you could see her eyes, she'd be winking to camera.
It's unbelievably difficult to judge Love & Monsters as an overall package because it's really more like a collection of moments and scenes, possibly a result of the fragmented narrative, and they vary so much in quality that it's almost impossible to quantify an overall rating for the episode. I suppose it's very nearly average, but beyond the first viewing all I really take away from it is a sense of lost dignity. This is a shame, because there are moments when it's very nearly the best episode of the series.
Overall: **
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