Doctor Who and the Legend of Ruby Sunday

Here we are in 2024, and Bonnie Langford has been in what amounts to three season finales in a row. What a time to be alive.

Spoilers Ahoy

It’s hard to know quite what to say about this one. Back in his first run at the show, RTD established a very consistant pattern for the two-part finale they did every year: part one was 45 minutes of building problems that crescendo into a cliffhanger that seems unsolvable, and then a second part that started in a slightly different place and resolved whatever threat was threatening to destroy all life in the universe this week. The problem is, that of the five of those RTD did between 2005 and 2009, exactly none of them actually worked or were narratively satisfying in any way. Mostly, the first halves were good? But those first halves aren’t actually a story, they work more like a trailer for the finale than anything else. So, as much as I’ve genuinely enjoyed this season to date, I have to admit I spent most of this week thinking to myself, “yeah, looks like thats setting up some bullshit.”

This one was structurally a little strange, with the Doctor trying to solve both the mystery of the woman who keeps appearing and suddenly caring about solving where Ruby came from, not because of any hint they’re connected, but seemingly because he realized it was the finale and it was time to wrap both of those up?

The whole first act is strangely clunky, with the show recapping both mysteries, reintroducing the UNIT guest cast, plus Rose Noble, plus Mel, and going over the various red herrings, and seemingly just reviewing the chatter on the web from the last few weeks. It’s remarkable that fan discussions are predictable enough that RTD can summarize them a year before any of the episodes under discussion even aired. The thing it reminded me of the most was that episode of She-Hulk that stopped to check in on what the chuds were saying on twitter, and got it exactly right, despite being written and filmed ages before any of the show aired or any of those discussions happened. The other thing it kept making me think of was that episode of Sherlock where they review all the fan theories about how he could have survived the fall, before sheepishly revealing what they had in mind, and then waving a hand and saying, basically, but it doesn’t matter.

But things pick up once they open the time window and get Mel involved. The smeary visuals of the time window were probably the best use of that extra Disney money to date, Jemma Redgrave and Bonnie Langford were both excellent, and Gatwa and Gibson are always fun to watch. Actually, let me spend an extra sentence or two on that; both Kate’s scene with the Doctor reminiscing about who he used to be, and Mel’s scene telling him to get his act together were outstanding, both perfect examples of how this new incarnation of the show is supposed to work. RTD is incredibly good at those little emotional character beats, and thats the stuff that makes these slightly overwrought finales worth it.

It’s wild to me that they’re actually invoking Susan Foreman as a plot element rather than an easter egg for the first time, well, ever. It seems pretty obvious how that’s going to resolve next week—she’s gonna be Mrs. Flood, right? Mostly, I’m curious about where that goes now that we’ve broken the seal on it; there’s a reason why Susan got written out, and why the past 59 years the answer to “do you have family” has always been some version of “I don’t know” and a pained look.

I also have to admit I’ve really had my fill of Big Lore Reveals from the last couple of years; the last one I enjoyed was Capaldi gasping “I didn’t leave because I was bored!”; everything since then has been diminishing returns, to say the least. I’m slightly dreading the can of worms this seems likely to open.

On the other hand: wow, they really brought Sutek back! That rumor has been knocking around for a while, and I did not believe it one bit, but then 91-year old Gabriel Woolf’s voice boomed out of the speakers, and away we go. Incredible. “The Pyramids of Mars” is one of the all-time great Classic Who episodes, and Sutek stands as probably the best villain that never got a return engagement.

On a personal note, back in the days before Who came back, I once lifted Sutek wholesale for a tabletop RPG game I ran for a group that had never seen the show. I think, in 30+ years of DM-ing, that’s the only time I’ve ever lifted something from a movie or show wholesale without changing anything, because it was already perfect. I mention this to illustrate that I could not physically be closer to the center of the target audience crosshairs for bringing this particular character back.

It’s also a favorite of both my kids, and “I bring Sutek’s gift of death” is a line we quote all the time. You would not believe how hard everyone freaked out when the reveal landed.

In conclusion, a good time was had by all, and I’m bracing for next week’s impact.

Two last thoughts:

A character warning of imminent doom named “Harriet Arbinger” is absolute god tier, A+++.

A huge congrats to everyone out there who called “Sue Tech” a few weeks ago. I stand corrected.

Doctor Who and Rogue

Back during Davies’ first run on the show, the late season episode by a new writer was practically a genre into itself. It was kinda the try-out slot? But what’s that look like here in ’24, given that the seasons are so much shorter now, and that this is the first episode not written by someone who also wrote for 2007’s series three since 2020? Because this is the one written by Loki Season 1 director Kate Herron, and the immediate reaction is to wish the people behind Loki had let her do more than just direct.

Riffing on Bridgerton is the sort of thing that seems inevitable for Who to do, and lavish costume drama is the thing the BBC does best, so it looks great and everyone knows exactly what vibe to hit. British actors don’t always know how to hit “campy alien planet”, but they can all do “sinister Pride & Prejudice” in their sleep. The twist, that it’s aliens who are literally fans of Bridgerton who have gone back in time to cosplay is properly brilliant, the sort of thing you kind of can’t believe Doctor Who has never done before.

However, none of that’s what anyone wants to talk about with this one. Back in November I talked about the sense that Davies had unfinished business, a list of things he didn’t get a chance to do last time. It’s clear that very high on that list was “get the Doctor to kiss a man.”

So I don’t bury the lede here, I liked it, I thought it worked. Maybe more importantly, my kids loved it, by far their favorite episode of the season so far. Part of the remit of this season was to pull the “under 16s” in, and seems like mission accomplished. One of my kids is an absolutely huge Hamilton nut, and the fact that the Doctor was locking lips with King George? To great to even comprehend.

Personally, using the Doctor as a romantic character has always bugged me a little, mostly because they’re an ancient space entity, and it’s hard to imagine that working between a human whose a regular amount old, and an ancient alien from the dawn of time whose either thousands or billions of years old depending on how you read the end of “Hell Bent”? But this is where I argue against myself, because what’s so great and unique about the Doctor as a character is that sure they’re an ancient borderline-lovecraftian space entity, but they want to be just a regular guy when they grow up. And part of being a regular guy is occasionally smooching someone. And since that seal was broken two decades ago now, so yeah, lets go all-in on it. If you’re a billion years older than the other person, and a different species, and you can change your physical form almost at will, gender is where you’re going to draw the line? No, I don’t think so.

Speaking of unfinished business, this really felt like the original pitches for what became “Girl in the Fireplace” and the Captain Jack character from “The Empty Child” stripped back to their basics, mashed up, and handed to a different writer. Doomed time travel–centered love affair with an extremely gay Han Solo? Check and check.

Hope thats a thread that gets picked back up on.

And a couple of stray observations:

One of the many things I like about Davies, besides just being a great writer, is that he’s both a huge fan of the entire history of the show, but isn’t precious about it, and backs that up with an impish sense of humor. I’m slightly in awe of the level of trolling that went into slipping Richard E. Grant’s “Shalka Doctor” into the past Doctor montage. They even went and did a special photoshoot with a scanner to get the image! Doctor Who’s relaxed attitude towards it’s own continuity is something we’ve covered before, but that’s a whole lot of effort to go out of your way to make the show’s continuity even weirder for weirdness sake and I am here for it.

This episode got kind of a weird reaction, for reasons both obvious and not. I don’t spent a lot of time in fan spaces these days, but I dip in occasionally. Most of the sort of people who, shall we say, pronounce woke with the ‘hard r’, checked out somewhere around Christmas, and the chatter around most of this season has been pretty positive, all things considered. But this episode seemed to be the one that blew some fuses, there was a whole lot of “this is just too different!!!1” posts after this one, with increasingly less euphemistic ways to describe what, exactly, was different and why that was bad. Lots of “think of the children”.

Beyond that, this seemed to be the point where a lot of pent-up handwringing burst to the surface. Doctor Who fans can be a weirdly pessimistic lot, which is sort of justified because the show already got cancelled once? But lots of shows get cancelled, very few come back and then run for another two decades, so maybe unclench a little, guys.

This was also the point where it became clear that the ratings for this season were “good”, but not “great”, and with only the two-part finale left for the year, this seemed to be the point where everyone started armchair diagnosing “what went wrong.” For the record, nothing went wrong, it’s doing pretty well, considering the state of media here in ’24, and all the players involved seem happy. Outside the various weird internet fan corners, the show’s gotten a positive reaction. It’s one of those weird fan things where the hard-core fans are convinced that no one but them could possibly like this, despite the fact that by all appearances, the general public likes it just fine.

But okay, if this is where everyone does their bit about what’s been bugging them, let me tell you mine. As much as I enjoyed this, it really felt like there was a beat missing. This has been sort of bugging me all season in a way that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but this episode sharpened it up for me—this is not a Doctor who ever really manages to size control of a situation, who never seems to get his feet under him.

This is a combination of the way Gatwa plays him, but also the way Davies is writing him as someone who largely inspires others to act rather than act himself. This is very similar to how Eccleston’s 9th Doctor worked, but that was back in 2005, and the approach really hasn’t been tried since.

Since Dungeons & Dragons gets a shoutout here, I’ll use that as the example of what I’m talking about: The Doctor has always been the exemplar of the maxed-out charisma hero. It’s not that he’s stronger or braver or even smarter than others, it’s that he can size control of a situation mostly by sheer force of personality, talk himself from being the chief suspect to running the whole murder investigation himself. The sort of character who swaggers into a room and rolls a whole series of nat 20s on persuasion checks. And as part of that there’s a move the show likes to do, where the Doctor acts like he’s thrashing around like an idiot for the first half of the show, and then somewhere around the midpoint decides he’s tricked the bad guys into telling him enough things, puts his “parent voice” on, and mixing a metaphor, grabs the wheel of whatever’s going on, and stays in the driver’s seat for the rest of the story.

And Gatwa’s Doctor, so far, just doesn’t do that. This one comes close, which is why I noticed it—the Kylie song and past Doctor montage scene, ending with the Doctor explaining who he is, looks like it’s one of those “okay, enough screwing around” turns, but then afterwards he goes right back to being back on his heels, and largely fails to resolve the story, with Ruby and Rogue making all the actually valuable decisions.

Especially combined with the theme of being scared a lot, it adds up to a fun but strangely ineffective version of the character, which I don’t think is the intent? As part of this soft reboot/revival, it’s as if they haven’t rehabbed all the old pieces yet, and havn’t quite redeployed all the tools in the toolbox. To be clear: I don’t think this is a problem, but it’s an aspect of the character that I miss, and I hope floats back in next year.

Doctor Who and Dot and Bubble

Well, okay, let’s start with that ending.

This season has been a little stingy about giving Gatwa any big show-offy grandstanding moments, scenes where he can really flex. That’s been in keeping with the gear this season has mostly operated in—the Doctor’s a fun-loving guy with big emotions who tends to inspire others to solve problems instead of solving them himself. No big showdowns, so to speak.

But boy, he really got to uncork everything he had here. When the penny drops at the end, it’s a remarkable performance as the shock moves through anger and finally lands on total disgust. The Doctor whose emotions are always at 120% finally gets something to really point that skill at, and he gets to physically embody the platonic concept of “Frustration.”

The character beat I really liked was right after, where he decides not to save those rich kids against their will. He’s absolutely got the ability to do that, and saving people who don’t want to be saved would solidly be in character—but also in character is deciding that, nope, he’s going to let these assholes go ahead and live with their chosen consequences.

As soon as Gatwa was cast, the odds seemed good that they were going to do something with the fact the Doctor has a new skin tone. It seemed obvious that RTD was too good a writer to just do an unreconstructed Very Special Episode about Racism, but presumably going to get addressed somehow. And they didn’t really talk about it, and the season to date has more or less ignored that aspect of the Doctor’s current physical form. And going into this week, there was absolutely no indication that was going to change.

Instead, we get 40 minutes of narrative sleight-of-hand, looking for all appearances that what we have this week is a 60-year old man satirizing social media. And it fully commits to this, hitting all the points you expect to see, even making the “bubble” a literal thing. The kids can’t do anything without their socials! They can’t even walk on their own! They don’t notice anything around them! There’s even a character named “Doctor Pee!” Two-thirds of the way through, you’re sort of rolling your eyes, thinking, “yeah man, I had a bad time on twitter too, maybe give the kids a break.”

Davies trusts that you’re just not going to notice that after a season full of incredibly diverse casting, that every person in the video squares has the same pale skin color. That comments like “I thought you all looked the same” will slide by without connecting to anything. The guest lead’s reaction to the Doctor in Ruby being in the same physical space is weird, but not so weird it sticks out.

At the same time, theres a vague but growing sense that none of the people on this planet are good people. It’s not just that they’re rich kids dependent on a sytem they don’t understand, and convinced of their own superiority, but there’s a more fundamental moral rot. By the time Lindy gets the man who just rescued her murdered to save her own skin, it doesn’t come across as a shock so much as “wow, they really are all assholes.”

Going into the last act, there’s a weird unease about what kind of story this even is—it doesn’t seem like we’re making fun of instagram anymore, and we also seem to have moved past a story about sheltered elite kids learning how to be better, so where is this going? And then the trap snaps shut, because we were on the Racism Planet, populated by people who would literally rather die than be rescued by a Black man.

I love how absolutely surgical it is. Instead of doing 45 minutes of “oh no, the south!” it’s 40 minutes of distraction and then an absolute gut punch. Part of what allows them to obscure the fact that this was “the racism one” is that because the Doctor wasn’t looking for it, neither was the audience, and so it sneaks up on both him and us.

Back when New New Who kicked off in November we spent some time speculating about why Davies would choose to come back and do more Doctor Who at this point in his career. Like all things, it’s clearly complicated and not just one thing; he gave an interview with a kid a few months ago where the kid asks him how he keeps coming up with new monsters, and his response is that it’s the other way around, and that he got the job because he can’t stop coming up with monsters, and I suspect that’s a lot more honest than the joking tone makes it sound. But it was also clear that he was angry and had things to say, and this is the kind of thing I was imagining.

Again like last week, I really feel like this needed a little card at the beginning that said “look, he was still mostly working on that show with Agent Scully. We didn’t leave our main guy out of 1/4 of his first season by choice!” The video squares was a tremendously clever fix, as it let him be in quite a bit of the show, despite the fact that those shots were probably all done in one afternoon with no set to speak of. This was the second one they filmed, as the second half of the first production block, which means that the Doctor’s shriek of rage was the first scene Gatwa filmed for this season. That’s a hell of a thing to land on your first day on the job.

I sketched the first draft of this out as I was coming down with COVID, and originally I ended this with “…and I’m sure everyone is going to be completely normal about this.” But it turns out they mostly were! There were the usual suspects who tried to claim it actually wasn’t racism at the end, instead something else that they described that was actually just racism except they didn’t know it, but mostly everyone was on board! It turns out the one everyone got weird about was the next one…

Restoration of Service in Progress

Nothing for three and a half years, and then we caught COVID twice in seven months. Wear your masks people! This current variant is no joke. Ripped through the school one last time before summer vacation, and we all got hit. Finals week was a little white-knuckle, but we all got through it and then took a four-day nap.

And then how’s this for squeezing lemon juice in to the paper cut: I managed to shake off the COVID after a week or so, but I was so stuffed up that I then rolled right into a full-blown ear infection, so now I’m pumped full of antibiotics. (Sure, sex is great, but have you ever had your ears pop after having them stuffed up for two weeks? Me neither, but here’s hoping I do soon.)

I know this is just yelling at the weather at this point, but I really can’t believe “we” decided that it was okay for everyone to just be sicker all the time. I missed two weeks of work on this thing—two weeks—I haven’t ever missed that much work since I started working. And I’m fortunate to work at a place and in a field where that wasn’t a disaster, but also someone is always out sick, and out sick for days at a time. No one seems to talk about this much, but “work” has just quietly reorganized around more people being sick more often.

It’s funny, summer vacation used to mean “yay, we can go places!”, and I have to admit now my reaction is much closer to “oh thank goodness, we can stay inside and get eight weeks off from being exposed.”

---

An aside about that gif at the top: I absolutely love the look of that scene from the end “Heaven Sent” where the Tardis wakes up. The light streaming through the doors, the lights flickering on almost looking like she’s stretching, and especially that last shot where the time rotor warms up in the foreground with Capaldi framed in the doorway in the background. That’s why you hire the lady that made the Tank Girl movie to direct your show.

Under Attack, Please Stand By

Icecano will return after a brief hiatus.

Un-Reviewed Code Is Tech Debt

Reading code is hard. It’s one of those universal truths is that regardless of language or platform, writing code is always easier than reading it. Joel on Software has a now 24-year old post on this topic which is still as relevant now as it was at the turn of the century: Reading Code is Like Reading the Talmud.

Mostly this is due to lack of context, there’s so much stuff around any piece of code that you really need to hold in your head for this part to make any sense. All the really useful code reviews I’ve been a part of involve asking the original developer questions: “whats going on here”, “why did you make this decision”, and so on. These don’t always result in changes, but they’re necessary to make sure the context is shared amongst everyone.

One of the reasons I tend to be millitant about software comments is to try and get that initial programmer context preserved with the code itself—to run with Joel’s Talmud analogy, to see if we can include the first batch of commentary along with the source right at the start.

Which brings us to code reviews. I’ve been thinking about code reviews a lot lately, for various reasons. One of the things I keep thinking about is that I can’t believe how hard to do well they still are, but they’re hard for many of the same reasons that reading code is hard. But of course, thats one of the reasons they’re so important: not only to “make sure the code is right”, but also to spread that context around to the team.

I’ve taken to thinking of un-reviewed code as a kind of tech debt—context debt, if you will. And this is the worst kind of debt, in that it’ll build up in the background while you’re not paying attention, and then a couple people get promoted or leave, and you realize you have a whole-ass application that no one on the team has ever seen the insides of. This is kind of rephrasing the “bus factor” problem, but I like treating it as a class of debt because it gives us an existing framework to pay it down.

But that doesn’t solve the basic problem that code review is hard to do, and most of our tools don’t really help. I mean, one of the reasons XP went all-in on pair programming is that was easier than figuring out how to make code easier to read and reason about.

And so given all that, I’ve also been stewing on how it’s very (not) funny to me that we keep finding new ways to replace “writing code” with “code review.”

One of them is that on top of all the other reasons not to let the Plagiarism Machine condense you some code out of the æther, is that now you still have to review that code, but that original context not only isn’t available, it doesn’t even exist. So code reviews become even more important at the same time as they get impossibly harder. Sort of instant-deploy tech debt. It’s the copy-paste from Stack Overflow, only amped way up. But, okay, that’s this new toy burning off the fad, hopefully people will knock that off at some point.

The thing I’ve really been thinking about is all that un-reviewed code we’ve been dragging around in the form of open source libraries. This musing, of course, brought to you by that huge near-miss last month (Did 1 guy just stop a huge cyberattack?), along with the various other issues going on over in NPM, PyPy, and then the follow-up discussion like: Bullying in Open Source Software Is a Massive Security Vulnerability

I mean, this whole thing should be a real wakeup call to the entire OSS world in a “hang on, what the hell are we doing” sort of way. Turns out that sure, with enough eyes all bugs are shallow, but you still have to have someone look. And the fact that it was a guy from Microsoft who found the bug? Because something was too slow? Delicious, but terrifying.

Everyone links to the xkcd about Dependencies with a sort of head-shake “that’s just how it is”. But sooner or later, that guy is going to leave, or need better insurance. You might not be paying the volunteers, but you can bet someone else would be willing to.

Like all of us, I wonder how many of these are out there in the wild? I’m glad I don’t run a Software Dev team that handles sensitive data currently, because at this point you have to assume any FOSS package has a >0% chance of hosting something you don’t want running on your servers.

And to bring it back around to the subject at hand, the real solution is “we need a way to audit and review open source packages”, but after a generation of externalizing that cost, no one even knows how to do that?

But what would I be doing if I was still in charge of something that handled PHI or other sensitive or valuable data? My initial reaction was I’d be having some serious conversations about “what would it take to remove all the open source. No, give me an estimate for all of it. All.”

(And to be clear, it’s not like commercial software is immune either, but that’s a different set of risk vectors and liability.)

I’d want a list of all the FOSS packages in the system, sorted into these buckets:

1. Stuff we’re barely using, that we could probably replace in a day or two. (The CSV formatter library that we only use to write one file in one place.)
2. Bigger things that we’re using more of, but could still get our arms around what a replacement looks like. (We pulled in Apache Commons collections because it was easy to use, but we’re using less than 10% of it.)
3. Big, foundational stuff: Spring, Tomcat, Linux, language standard libraries. Stuff you aren’t going to rewrite.

That third category needs a light audit to make sure there’s an actual entity in charge of it with safety practices and the like. Probably a conversation with legal about liability and whatnot.

But for those first two buckets, I’d want to see an estimated cost to replace. And then I want to see a comparison of “how many hours of effort converted to salary dollars” vs “worst-case losses if our severs got p0ned”. Because the hell of it is, those numbers probably make it a slam dunk to do the rewrite.

But look! I’m doing that same fallacy—it’s easier to write than review, so let’s just rewrite it. And this has been sitting in the drafts folder for a month now because… I don’t know!

The current situation seem untenable, and all the solutions seem impossible. But that review debt is still there, waiting.

Books That Need Updates

You even read The Mythical Man-Month by Fred Brooks? It’s one of those classics for a reason, and it’s one of those books—like PeopleWare that I end up re-reading every could of years. For everyone playing the home game , Man-Month is a collection of essay’s Fred Brooks wrote about software engineering, mostly based on his experiences leading the OS/360 project at IBM in the 50s and 60s. The book is probably best known for “Brooks’ Law”—“Adding more people to a late project makes it later,” and he’s probably the origin of the example of how you can’t use 9 women to have a baby in one month. But he’s all over the software world: he’s also the guy who coined the term “software architecture”, and he’s almost certainly the reason your computer uses 8 bit bytes instead of 6.

He’s also got an real gift at digging out the root cause of problems, so while the symptoms he describes are very 1950s (the secretaries can only type so fast!) what makes the book stay relevant is his ability to call out the underlying needs (everyone on a large project needs up-to-date information.)

However! The version you can buy today is the anniversary edition from the mid-90s, with a couple of new chapters at the end. And these are incredible because it’s Brooks with a couple of extra decades of experience under his belt in dialoge with his younger self. And he mostly walks through the challenges and problems the earlier parts of the book outlined, and then gives his updated thoughts on where we stood in the mid-90s. (A remarkable number of logistical challenges went away just due to, literally, Microsoft Office.)

But this afterward mostly lets him sharpen the messages from earlier—these really are the real problems, all the social and communication challenges are the same no matter how fancy the technology, there really isn’t a silver bullet, here’s how we can go make great software.

It’s phenomenal, go read it if you haven’t.

Sometimes I think, what other books really need an anniversary edition with an extra chapter?

As I somewhat frequently mention, the all time champion is Postcards From The Edge, which really needs an extra page at the end to mention that Debbie Reynolds died the day after Carrie Fisher, so Carrie couldn’t even have her own funeral.

Which all brings me around to—probably for the last time—Humane. (Bare with me for a sec.) After the total disaster of the “AI” “Pin” launch, the company seems to be up for sale, the founders want out, looks like it was time to fold the con.

One of the main people at Humane was Ken Kocienda, aka “the guy who wrote the first iPhone keyboard". After leaving Apple he wrote a book called Creative Selection: Inside Apple's Design Process During the Golden Age of Steve Jobs. It’s a great book, and probably the best book that’s ever been written about how the early 2000s Apple did what it did. But a big part of the tone is that Apple has lost its way without Jobs there, and this book was a record of how the “good” Apple worked.

A big part of Humane’s whole thing was that it was a bunch of ex-Apple people re-creating the old Apple, and they literally had the guy who wrote the book on staff. But maybe, it turns out, the deranged dictator CEO with impeccable taste was a key element in making the Apple way work? Humane struck me as a place that didn’t have someone who would drop the prototype in a fishtank to see if bubbles came out. And not that you need that to be successful? But you don’t not need that? Humane stands as a really interesting data point about how the Apple Way works, or doesn’t, outside of the confines of Apple itself.

But back to Kocienda’s book. Like I said, it’s a great book. And I mean this completely sincerely, without any implied snark: I’d pay real money to read the extra couple of chapters Kocienda would add now.

Doctor Who and 73 Yards

The problem was that they needed to start filming before Gatwa was done working on Sex Education. Meaning even though they only doing 8 shows a year now, they had to open the production schedule with a Doctor-Lite episode like it was still 2008. This was the first one they filmed, before even the Christmas episode, so this was actually Gibson’s first time out with the part and on her own for most of it. It’s not clear when they realized this was going to happen, but it feels like it was late in the day, as this has a certain “written at the last moment” quality to it. It sort of feels like this all needs to be in a title card at the start, because I’m not sure much about this makes sense other than as a way to paper over a production glitch.

Opening without the regular titles is a nice touch, since “Doctor Who” isn’t actually in this one, this is the Ruby show. The whole opening act is nicely spooky, in a Kirkland-brand The Wicker Man sort of way. Wales is, as always, gorgeous, and the escalating tension in the pub full of unfriendly locals is a really solid horror movie sequence, with a killer punchline. The strange woman following Ruby is unsettling without being directly scary, there’s a solid rural horror ghost story fully assembled.

And then Davies does one of his favorite tricks, which is to run though the whole premise from the trailer in the first 20 minutes, and then move on and do something totally different. I was not expecting to pivot into a story set 20 years later, so kudos for the genuine surprise.

It’s a shame, then that the actual story feels assembled out of bits of other, better Davies scripts. The main thrust is somewhere between “Turn Left” and Years and Years, the evil prime minster is Harold Saxon plus any number of other evil government figures from past Davies Whos, and even the best part of this is a rerun of Lucy, Saxon’s wife, being abused in the background, except without, you know, the part at the end where she shoots him.

That said, the standout sequence is the scene where Ruby apologizes to the other campaign worker for not helping her earlier because she only had one shot and she had to be sure, and then maneuvering the ghost or phantom or whatever it is into position. That feels like the scene the whole episode was written outwards from.

A recurring theme in Davies work are characters trapped in a world where no one will help them. It’s not quite full-blown nihilism, but Davies has a very low opinion of the average person, and this episode is chock full of unkind, unfriendly, unhelpful people. It’s a tremendously negative worldview, exacerbated by the phantom making things worse.

The phantom woman’s effect on the people who talk to her is always effective, and it’s interesting that fear continues to be a major theme this year, even when it’s not the Doctor being afraid. The hiker, the pub denizen, her mom provide a solid building horror at what that phantom might be.

The best is the brief appearance by Jemma Redgrave’s Kate Stewart who gets to swagger in, show what a UNIT show starring her would actually look like, and then gets to act the hell out of the spell descending on her and becoming terrifying. Kate Stewart has been a recurring character for 12 years now, and she’s never been better deployed than she was here and in “The Giggle” last year, mostly by remembering that Redgrave can really act. And I really liked the beat that Kate knew something was up with the timeline. Here’s hoping some of those spin-off rumors are true!

And speaking of that, one of the rumored (working? code name?) titles for a spin off is something to the effect of “the war between the land and the sea,” which is a phrase that makes an appearance—and that probably means nothing, but worth noting.

(And as a stray comment, I’d be willing to bet the costuming note for “middle-aged” Ruby was “how close can you get to Michelle Pfeifer’s Selina Kyle before she turns into Catwoman?”)

But then the last act slides into the most unearned, garbage ending. As soon as the story skips forward in time the first time it’s clear there’s going to be some kind of closing the time loop reset ending, but… what? It’s not so much that the ending doesn’t make sense, it’s that it doesn’t even try to. The story carefully lays out two rules about the phantom woman: she always stays exactly 73 yards away from Ruby, and anyone who interacts with her runs and shuns Ruby. And the dual resolutions don’t engage with either of these. The evil prime minister, who might be the evil spirit the pub locals made up (?) runs from everything, not just Ruby, and then at the finale, when Ruby gets old enough, she… goes back in time and turns into the phantom? (And if that was Ruby all along, why was she doing what she does? Why are old Ruby and the Phantom played by different actresses? Was it really Ruby in the first loop, or did she replace the original phantom?)

The obvious point of comparison here is “Blink”—a Doctor-Lite episode built around a monster with clearly-stated rules, but in that show, the resolution centered on using the monster’s own rules against them, here the resolutions center around the monster growing new features suddenly.

Since this is where it becomes explicit in the text, we should probably say something about the much-discussed pivot towards the supernatural and paranormal. Mostly, the difference beween “science-fiction”, “science-fantasy”, “the paranormal”, and “fantasy” is a matter of which latin roots you use to make up the fake words with, but here it seems to be an excuse to just not bother about how anything works or wire up the ending, which combined with the “lol, music am I right?” ending to “The Devil’s Chord” is a little worrying.

Most seasons of the revival show seem to have that one episode that isn’t necessarily “bad” or “cheap”, but it’s clear that it got less attention than the ones around it, the one where everyone went, “yeah, that’s fine,” and then went back to working on the cool landmines or something.

The thing it reminded me of the most was “Boomtown”, from the revival show’s first season back in 2005. That was a last second replacement script for one that had fallen through, it was cheap(er), set in Wales, had one good scene in the middle, and had a nonsensical ending that was basically just “a wizard did it.” It wasn’t “bad”, so much as it was clear everyone involved was busy either working on the WW2 gas mask zombies on one side or making the big finale on the other, and just needed to get this out out the door.

And look, I kinda liked “Boomtown,” copout ending non-withstanding, and I kinda liked this with the same hedge. If your weakest episode to date still manages a solid 20 minutes of Welsh horror followed by a ghost preventing an evil spirit from starting a nuclear war, your show’s probably in good shape.å

Happy (Day After) Towel Day

“Listen, it’s a tough universe! Theres all sorts of people and things trying to do you, kill you, rip you off, everything! If you’re going to survive out there, you’ve really got to know where your towel is.” —Ford Prefect

X-Men 97

I liked it! I liked it a lot.

Taken mostly on it’s own: a really fun show, well made, great look. Really captures what’s fun and bonkers about the X-Men as a concept and a team. They nailed an animation style that looks like how you remember the old show looked, as opposed to how it actually looked.

Taken from the perspective of someone who retained more facts about “X” “Men” than is recommended by the surgeon general: And it also did a great job both following up on the old cartoon as well as riffing on stuff from the comics, and allin a way that spent a lot of time winking at long time fans but stayed completely accessable to people with no prior knowledge beyond “that one is Wolverine, right?” Immediately in the S-tier of revivals/reboots/continuations, or whatever we call these things now.

Taken as a show that’s part of the broader media-social-political landscape of the Twenties: Holy smokes I cannot believe they really had the balls to spend 10 episodes finding new ways to say “Magneto was Right.”

Doctor Who and BOOM

Doctor Who has always been a very writerly show. Part of this is due to the fact that it has always used individually-hired freelancers instead of staff writers or a single author, but also because the author is the one name that’s always been in the opening credits. This is part of what leads to the show’s anthology-with-fixed-cast vibe, with very different things promised by a show that opens with “by Robert Holmes”, “by Terry Nation”, or more to the point for this week, “by Steven Moffat’.

For everyone playing the home game, Moffat was the guy best known for the “Friends-but-British” sitcom Coupling before seemingly coming out of nowhere the first season of the revival show with the two best episodes that year—“The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances“—aka, “the one with the WW2 gas mask zombies”. It’s a trick he repeated the next three years, showing up and writing the best episodes of the season (“Girl in the Fireplace”, “Blink”, “Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead”), before walking away from a movie with Steven Spielberg to take over the show himself for the Matt Smith and Peter Capaldi Doctors, while also doing Sherlock at the same time. Somewhere along the line, he ended up as the person who had written the most televised Doctor Who, and then left at the same time as Capaldi. He followed his immediate predecessor’s lead in not returning to the show after he left, spending his time writing perfectly acceptable adaptations of Dracula.

When Davies announced he was coming back, Moffat was the next person everyone asked about; after spending months as the worst kept secret in TV they admitted that yes, he was writing two—episode 3 and the ’24 christmas special.

And so for episode 3 we have a double showcase—an opportunity for Gatwa to really show what he can do with the part, while a returning Steven Moffat shows why he’s still the best thats ever written the show. The central conceit—the Doctor is stuck on a landmine and can’t move for the whole runtime—ends up being a phenomenal way to keep the show focused on what the Doctor is good at: talking to people and being clever.

One of the funnier aspects of the Doctor being literally the same character being played by different actors but in the same continuity is that you can’t get away with remaking old stories with the new cast. Unlike, say, Sherlock Holmes, you can’t just do “our version of ‘Hound of the Baskervilles’”, you have to find a way to run the standards while still doing a new story.

Moffat realizes that the structure of having the character in one place trying to disarm a landmine the whole time is great frame to hang a whole bunch of very Doctory things to see what he does with them.

Gatwa takes the material and makes it sing, occasionally literally. This feels like where his take on the character locks into place. He’s still doing big emotions at full speed, he’s still scared like other incarnations are not, but he’s thoughtful and charming and clever in a way he hadn’t quite ever been yet. For lack of a better vocabulary, he’s suddenly much more “Doctory”. Because it turns out the trick to writing Gatwa is to write like he’s Peter Capaldi?

And that’s not quite fair. One of the things you start to notice is that the very short list of people who’ve written for more than one Doctor tend to have their own take on who the character is, and write for “their” Doctor, and then trust whoever is actually in the part at the moment to put their spin on it. Moffat’s writing his version of the Doctor, so on the one hand, it’s very easy to hear Capaldi or Smith saying the same lines. But it’s not as simple as “he just wrote a Capaldi episode”, he’s a good enough writer to know that it’s Gatwa who is going to be saying the lines, and leaves him plenty of space to lean in with hit take on the part.

So you get moments like the Doctor explaining away that he can work out the exact weight of the cylinder based on the way it moved when Ruby tossed it into the air but that he didn’t want to look like he was showing off, which is scene you can easily imagine any of the other post-2005 Doctor doing, but none of them would have hit the same note of barely-controlled panic Gatwa does here.

And the beat where the Doctor looks like he’s being distracted by irrelevant questions at the expense of the immediate problem—“who’d pick a fight around here?”—is a great showcase for Gatwa to show what it looks like when the Doctor has actually figured out most of the real problem way ahead of everyone else, and then lets things unfold from there.

And “Give it time, everywhere’s a beach eventually” is a 12/10 Doctor Who line.

Ruby, on the other hand, Moffat writes as a sort of midpoint between Amy and Clara, which I think makes a lot of sense considering how thinly sketched that character is, and how much Ruby’s design owes to those two predecessors. The result is the best Ruby has ever worked by a wide margin.

Music continues to be a major thematic element, as it has since for the whole of the RTD2 era, with the Doctor singing to himself to calm down, and the shared song to determine the timing of the handoff. It’s unclear if this is going to be a plot point, or if this is like romance was in 2005, and this is just a part of how the show works now? Either way, it gives the show a sense of having learned a new trick.

It’s full of Moffat easter eggs and staples: Anglican Marines! Villengard! Glitchy tech! Characters who die and then end up in a sort of strange un-death! A killer robot-type thing that apologizes before it kills you! An absolutely furious satire of capitalism, the military, algorithms, and religion! Fish Fingers and Custard!

My favorite callback, though, was this slightly spooky poem or nursery rhyme the Doctor recites to calm himself down:

”I went down to the beach and there she stood,

dark and tall, at the edge of the wood.

“The sky's too big. I'm scared,” I cried.

She replied, “Young man don't you know there's more to life,

Than the moon and the president's wife?”

I love this, because it’s an absolute perfect way to handle continuity in Doctor Who. On it’s own, its a strange little poem that vibes with the mood of him trying to calm himself down that he recites almost like a mantra. It sounds like it might be from something, one of those late 1800s poems from the part of high school english you sleep through? On it’s own, it works!

But then, for a certain kind of detail-retaining viewer, the last line does a little twist and reveals that the young man in the poem is actually the Doctor himself? (And it wasn’t the president’s wife, it was his daughter. And he didn’t steal the moon, he lost it. Or so he claimed.) Because this is a callback to some event in the Doctor’s past that both he and Missy mentioned back in series 9.

Critically, this wasn’t a nursery rhyme about hybrids, or pandoricas, or cracks in the universe, or planets where you have to tell the truth, or time-traveling religious orders with priests you forgot you talked to, or immortal lesbian vikings, or bad wolfs, or time wars, or any other actual plot elements from the last 20 years. Instead the deep cut reference is to what amounted to a throwaway call-and-response joke from the fall of 2015, which at the time sure sounded like it was something that “didn’t really happen.”

And even better, nothing anyone said back in series 9 even remotely implied there was a dark woman, or a wood, or that someone wrote a rhyme about it. This is exactly the way this show should build up these little references, callbacks with a twist, adding pieces that don’t fit in ways that imply even more we didn’t see, and in a way where you know they’ll never actually pay off, it wont ever become a big plot point. Just layers of texture, built up over the decades. It’s not “fan service” in the usual sense of the term, the recognition if the source is pure value add.

The fact that the thing being called back to was from Series 9 is also appropriate, because content and theme-wise, this story could have slotted cleanly into that year, and not just because it was a story about toxic capitalism where someone goes blind. It’s an interesting revival-with-updates of what the show was concerned about at the time.

I’ve seen a couple of comments here and there that the satire wasn’t “pointed enough”, and I don’t know guys, a story about turning decision-making over to an algorithm which then immediately turns ambulances into murder machines to keep sales up feels like exactly the right amount of pointed for 2024. The fact that it’s an “algorithm” and not a skynet-style self-aware AI feels right on the nose for our current moment.

And speaking of right on the nose: Thoughts and Prayers! It was during Moffat’s run as showrunner with Matt Smith as the Doctor that the show really broke out in the US so he’s certainly familiar with that audience; “Thoughts & Prayers” with that font sure felt like it was tacking directly towards the new American viewers on Disney+.

On the less positive side, the direction is a little dull, even considering there’s only one location. Scrubbing back through the episode to get the words to the poem right made it really clear how the whole show is 2 or 3 camera angles at 2 or 3 zoom levels. They couldn’t have convinced Rachel Talalay to stick around for one more?

On top the direction, something seemed off about the whole episode visually that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, especially the strange locked-off head-on but distant shots of the Tardis. Turns out, this was the show’s first use of a Volume-style stage, with the crater being a set and then surrounded by LED screens. And I’m just delighted that Doctor Who has enough money now to do something like that, but still doesn’t have enough money to make it look as good as Star Wars. Just perfect.

The Susan Twist character has to pay off soon now, right? The show has been very careful to make sure the Doctor never saw her, but that’s over now.

And speaking of mysterious ladies, it was a genuine shock to see Varada Sethu a year early. Since this season and the next filmed back-to-back, she got spotted at several filming locations for next season’s esisodes, leading to some wild rumors that Gibson had been fired and replaced as the companion. After that simmered for longer than it probably should have, they finally announced that, no, Gibson wasn’t leaving but Varada Sethu was joining the cast for the next season. And that seemed to be that, until here she is! Now we get to wildly speculate about if this is a case of they liked the actress and brought her back, or if this was actually a case of launching the character early. Puts a whole different spin on the “you should get married” joke.

All-in-all, tremendous episode, and really feels like the show is properly back. Moffat is my favorite writer for the show not named “Douglas Adams”, show-ran my favorite period of the show, and was the guy in charge for my all-time favorite Doctor (Capaldi, for the record.) I was sorry to see him go when he seemingly left for good. I’m glad to see him back.

Hey Boyos! The Phantom Menace at 25

Star Wars absolutely peaked just a hint after midnight, the morning of May 19, 1999.

It’s almost impossible to remember now how excited everyone was. And by “everyone” I don’t mean “nerds” or “fans” or whatever, I mean everyone. The monoculture hadn’t splintered yet, and “new Star Wars” was an event. Everyone talked about it, Natalie Portman’s kabuki-makeup face was everywhere, they ran that Darth Maul Duel of the Fates music video on MTV constantly.

The other thing that’s hard to remember is that “Star Wars” meant something totally different there in the spring of 1999. “Star Wars” was three good movies, and… some books and video games, maybe? But as far as the mainstream was concerned, it was just three movies that mostly everyone liked. For a certain kind of blockbuster filmmaking, Star Wars was still the gold standard, it was still the second highest grossing movie of all time, having only just been beat out by Titanic two years earlier. There was a tremendous amount of cultural good-will there—you don’t stay the highest grossing movie of all time by being outside of the mainstream. There were plenty of people who didn’t like it, but there were very few people who hated it. It was like the Super Bowl, or the World Series; the default cultural response was “yeah, those were pretty good!”

“Star Wars” was also a shorthand for quality. “Star Wars” movies were good movies, full stop, and “like Star Wars!” was about the highest compliment you could pay any live action action-adventure special effects anything.

And suddenly there was New Star Wars? That’s going to be amazing, by definiton!

And that trailer! We spent ages waiting for that trailer to download off the old Quicktime Trailers webpage over dialup. It was worth it.

It just genuinely didn’t occur to anyone that a new Star Wars might be bad. That just wasn’t a thing that happened.

Of course we all went to see it.

There was a big group of us that all went opening night, or rather the 12:01 am show the night before opening night. There was a bunch of us Star Wars fans, for sure, but half our group were casual at best. But it was a Thing! Everyone wanted to go.

This was before you could do this on the web, so we had to stand in line all day to get tickets. We worked out a rotation so no one had to stay there more than half an hour or so. The line outside the theature was basically a block party; everyone was in good spirits, the weather was gorgeous, someone brought a barbecue.

The little northern California town I was living in had the one Good Theatre—it was a remodeled vaudeville theature, single huge screen, lots of seats. Still had the old-style auditorium seating. The current owners had upgraded it with one of the best surround-sound systems I’ve ever heard.

The screening itself was a party. Everyone was there early, it was being “hosted” by the local radio station, and one of the DJs was MC-ing the scene, doing trivia, giving away prizes. Some people came in costume, but not a lot. This was’t a comic book convention thing, this was a bunch of regular people in a college town ready to watch a new movie that everyone knew was going to be great.

I swear this is a true story: I remember one of my friends, one of the not-so-much-a-fan ones, leaning over and asking me “what are all these nerds gonna do if the movie is bad?” She nodded her head towards the group of fans that did come in costume. Someone had a full Boba Fett outfit, which was not common in those days.

I wish I could remember what I said back. I think I made a crack along the lines of “I think they could just run that trailer a dozen times and everyone would be happy.” But it wasn’t a scenario worth thinking about. A bad Star War? No.

There had been rumblings of course. The reactions on what passed for the web in those days were… not an enthusiastic as one would have expected.

At midnight, the lights went out, and the audience roared. 12:01. Logos, then STAR WARS with that theme music. The audience made a sound I have never heard before or since, just an absolute roar of delight.

Then, that sound cut itself off very quickly, because suddenly everyone had to read a bunch of text we had never seen before.

I had another friend who was convinced that “Phantom Menace” was a fake title, and the real movie would have a “better one”. I remember side-eying him as THE PHANTOM MENACE scrolled into view in those chunky yellow letters.

The audience never got that loud again. There was a weird vibe in the room as the movie kept not… being… good. I distinctly remember the moment where the old guy with the pointy beard on Naboo says “This can only mean one thing, invasion!” which was such a cool line in the trailer, but in the context of the business meeting it actually happened in, just kind of flopped onto the ground and bled out.

“Oh shit,” I remember thinking. “That lady on AICN was right.”

My other clear memory of that night was walking out into the street afterwards. It was 2-something in the morning. It was a warm northern valley night, so it was shorts and short-sleeves weather.

The mood as we walked out into the night was strange—not sad, or angry, or even disappointed, but confused. Like leaving the stadium after your team blew what should have been an easy game. What the hell happened?

Someone I knew but hadn’t come with waved to me across the street. “That was amazing!” he yelled. We both knew he was lying, but we both let it slide. My friend that had asked what the nerds were going to do had slept through the second half.

No one would ever use “it’s like Star Wars!” as a compliment ever again.

---

The Phantom Menace has aged strangely, and mostly to its benefit. It’s still a bad movie, but not a terrible one. The passage of time—and the way “blockbuster” summer genre movies have evolved past it—have made it easier to see what it did well.

For starters, having the Queen of a planet arrive at the Galactice Senate to deliver eyewitness testimony about an illegal invasion only to be shut down by the senator for the invaders saying, basically, “why would we let this evidence get in the way of our desire to do nothing lets form a committee”, hits in 2024 in a way it didn’t in 1999.

And that podrace still slaps. And not just the lightsaber fight, but the whole final 4-location battle is a pretty spectacular piece of action movie-making, the occasional “let’s try spinning” non-withstanding. Lucas is at his best when he’s throwing weird images on the screen: that shot of the gungans coming out the swamp contrasted with the robots unfolding, Darth Maul pacing behind the laser fence while Darkman meditates, the fighters swirling around the command ship. The old Star War sense of humor occasionally shines through: for example, the music swells, the big door opens revealing Darth Maul and his double-bladed sword; and then Natalie Portman side-eyes Liam Neeson and deadpans “we’ll take the long way.”

I haven’t become a Prequel Apologist, exactly, but the curve I grade it on has certainly changed over the last two-and-a-half decades.

There’s a class of “big noise” movies that have become the dominant form of blockbuster action—obviously fake environments, too much CG, PG-13 without being sexy or scary, filled with beautiful-but-bored actors visibly thinking about how they’re going to spend their paychecks as they spout what’s not really dialogue but just sort of shout quips past each other. Part of what we talk about when we talk about “superhero fatigue” are these enormously expensive live-action Saturday morning toy cartoons with nothing to say.

Part of why Phantom Menace got such a nuclear negative reaction was that it was such a surprise. Before, if a huge expensive AAA movie was bad, it was because it was a colossal screwup—your David Lynch’s Dune, Dick Tracy, Waterworld, Batman & Robin. Those happened every few years or so, and would be followed by years of axe-grinding, blame-shifting, and explainers about “what went wrong.” And sure, bad sequels happened all the time—mid-tier Roger Moore Bond movies, or Jaws 3, Superman IV, Star Trek V: the low budget, low effort cash-in sequel.

Instead, here was a huge expensive AAA movie, advertised to hell and back, and by all accounts the exact movie the people making it wanted to make, and it was still bad. That just wasn’t a category in 1999. Now, it’s the dominant form. In a world where they actually honest-to-god expected me to pay full price to see Thor: The Dark World, I can’t generate the energy to be too mad about the movie with the good lightsaber fight.

To demonstrate what I mean, and without getting drawn into a epistemological debate about what I might mean by “worse”, here is a list of big-budget AAA blockbusters that have been released since 1999 that, if I had to choose, I would choose to watch Phantom Menace instead of:

• Any live action Transformers
• Any of the three Hobbit movies
• Prometheus
• Any of the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels
• About half of the Fast and the Furious sequels
• That insane Lone Ranger movie with Johnny Depp as Tonto
• John Carter
• Honestly, about a third of the Marvel Movies. Well, maybe half?
• Any of the live action DC movies other than Wonder Woman
• The third Matrix
• Any of the reboot “Kelvin Universe” Star Treks
• The Hitchhiker’s Guide movie, which still makes me angrier than TPM ever did

Compared to all that, Darth Maul is high art.

On the one hand, saying a bad movie doesn’t seem so bad because other movies got worse is damning with the faintest of praise, but on the other hand, go look at that list again. Yeah, we’re grading on a curve here, and yes, Jar-Jar is terrible, but did you see Star Trek Into Darkness?

At the end of the day, The Phantom Menace was one reclusive billionaire’s deranged vision, unimpeded. Say what you will about Lucas, he basically paid for this movie out of his checking account, and it’s clear it was the exact movie he wanted to make. After decades of warmed-over lowest common denominator films by committees that have been sandblasted into nothing, one guy’s singular artistic vision starts to sound pretty good, no matter how unhinged it might have been. We need more movies where someone just gets a giant pile of money to make whatever the hell movie they want, not less. Even if they don’t always work out.

And, TPM kicked off a cycle of directors going back and revisiting their older work, which has been a mixed bag, but we got Fury Road and Twin Peaks: The Return out of it, which was more than worth it.

---

What does The Phantom Menace mean, two and a half decades later?

“Episode I bad” is still shorthand for “absolute trash fire of a movie”. And that night in 1999 was certainly the point where “Star Wars” stopped meaning “the only series with no bad movies” and started to mean “increasingly mid movies with breathtakingly diminished returns surrounded by the most toxic fans you can possibly imagine.”

But it has a strange staying power. There have been plenty of worse followups, sequels, and remakes, but those slide out of mind in a way that this hasn’t. No one still makes jokes about fighting Giant Spiders or “Nuking the Fridge”, but this movie has remained the Totemic example for “Terrible Followup”. To put that another way: No one liked Jar-Jar Binks, but a quarter-century later, everyone on earth still knows who that is.

Why does this movie linger in the collective consciousness like—if you’ll forgive the expression—a splinter in the mind’s eye? I think it’s because unlike most bad movies, you can squint and almost see the good movie this wanted to be. And the passing of time, and the wreckage of those other bad movies, have made it clearer what this one did right, how close it almost got. This isn’t a Blade Runner situation, there’s no clever edit that could fix this one, it’s too fundamentally misconceived in too many ways. But you can nearly feel there was a version of this movie made from almost the same parts that would have worked. You can imagine what a good movie with this cast and with these beats would look like. You can almost reach out and touch it.

And yet, the movie itself remains this terrible, beautifuly-made, stodgy thing. The sort of movie where you say to yourself, “it can’t possibly have been that bad, could it? We just didn’t like it.” And maybe you end up watching it with friends, or with your kids, or late at night on Disney+, and as it starts you think “no, this wasn’t that bad,” but sooner or later someone says “this can only mean one thing—invasion”, or Jar-Jar has a big idea, or someone asks The Junior Professional if she’s an angel, and you say “no, actually, it really was exactly that bad.”

---

There’s a scene towards the end of the first act that has ended up as my most-quoted line from all of Star Wars.

The heroes are escaping from Naboo on the Queen’s chromed-out starship. The Jedi are in the cockpit delivering stilted dialogue. At a loss for anything better to do, Jar-Jar wanders into the droid break room. As he enters, the R2-D2 and the other R2 units all wake up, and turn towards him, beeping.

“Hey boyos!” he exclaims.

I have five cats in my house, and whenever I walk into a room with more then one of them, they always pop their heads up and look at me.

“Hey boyos!” I exclaim.

And Another Thing: Pianos

I thought I had said everything I had to say about that Crush ad, but… I keep thinking about the Piano.

One of the items crushed by the hydraulic press into the new iPad was an upright piano. A pretty nice looking one! There was some speculation at first about how much of that ad was “real” vs CG, but the apology didn’t include Apple reassuring everyone that it wasn’t a real piano, I have to assume they really did sacrifice a perfectly good upright piano for a commercial. Which is sad, and stupid expensive, but not the point.

I grew up in a house with, and I swear I am not making this up, two pianos. One was an upright not unlike the one in the ad—that piano has since found a new home, and lives at my uncle’s house now. The other piano is a gorgeous baby grand. It’s been the centerpiece of my parent’s living room for forty-plus years now. It was the piano in my mom’s house when she was a little girl, and I think it belonged to her grandparents before that. If I’m doing my math right, it’s pushing 80 or so years old. It hasn’t been tuned since the mid-90s, but it still sounds great. The pedals are getting a little soft, there’s some “battle damage” here and there, but it’s still incredible. It’s getting old, but barring any looney tunes–style accidents, it’ll still be helping toddlers learn chopsticks in another 80 years.

My point is: This piano is beloved. My cousins would come over just so they could play it. We’ve got pictures of basically every family member for four generations sitting at, on, or around it. Everyone has played it. It’s currently covered in framed pictures of the family, in some cases with pictures of little kids next to pictures of their parents at the same age. When estate planning comes up, as it does from time to time, this piano gets as much discussion as just about everything else combined. I am, by several orders of magnatude, the least musically adept member of my entire extended family, and even I love this thing. It’s not a family heirloom so much as a family member.

And, are some ad execs in Cupertino really suggesting I replace all that with… an iPad?

I made the point about how fast Apple obsoletes things last time, so you know what? Let’s spot them that, and while we’re at it, let’s spot them how long we know that battery will keep working. Hell, let’s even spot them the “playing notes that sound like a piano” part of being a piano, just to be generous.

Are they seriously suggesting that I can set my 2-year old down on top of the iPad to take the camera from my dad to take a picture while my mom shows my 4-year old how to play chords? That we’re all going to stand in front of the iPad to get a group shot at thanksgiving? That the framed photos of the wedding are going to sit on top of the iPad? That the iPad is going to be something there will be tense negotiations about who inherits?

No, of course not.

What made that ad so infuriating was that they weren’t suggesting any such thing, because it never occurred to them. They just thought they were making a cute ad, but instead they (accidentally?) perfectly captured the zeitgeist.

One of the many reasons why people are fed up with “big tech” is that as “software eats the world” and tries to replace everything, it doesn’t actually replace everything. It just replaces the top line thing, the thing in the middle, the thing thats easy. And then abandons everything else that surrounds it. And it’s that other stuff, the people crowded around the piano, the photos, that really actually matters. You know, culture. Which is how you end up with this “stripping the copper out of the walls” quality the world has right now; it’s a world being rebuilt by people whose lives are so empty they think the only thing a piano does is play notes.

Crushed

What’s it look like when a company just runs out of good will?

I am, of course, talking about that ad Apple made and then apologized for where the hydraulic press smashes things down and reveals—the new iPad!

The Crush ad feels like a kind of inflection point. Because a few years ago, this would have gone over fine. Maybe a few grumps would have grouched about it, but you can imagine most people would have taken it in good humor, there would have been a lot of tweets on the theme of “look, what they meant was…”

Ahhh, that’s not how this one went? It’s easy to understand why some folks felt so angry; my initial response was more along the lines of “yeaaah, read the room.”

As more than one person pointed out, Apple’s far from the first company to use this metaphor to talk about a new smaller product; Nintendo back in the 90s, Nokia in ’08. And, look, first of all, “Nokia did it” isn’t the quality of defense you think it is, and second, I don’t know guys, maybe some stuff has happened over the last fifteen years to change the relationship artists have with big tech companies?

Apple has built up a lot of good will over the last couple of decades, mostly by making nice stuff that worked for regular people, without being obviously an ad or a scam, some kind of corporate nightmare, or a set of unserious tinkertoys that still doesn’t play sound right.

They’ve been withdrawing from that account quite a lot the last decade: weird changes, the entire app store “situation”, the focus on subscriptions and “services”. Squandering 20 years of built-up good will on “not fixing the keyboards.” And you couple that with the state of the whole tech industry: everyone knows Google doesn’t work as well as it used to, email is all spam, you can’t answer the phone anymore because a robot is going to try and rip you off, how many scam text messages thye get, Amazon is full of bootleg junk, etsy isn’t hand-made anymore, social media is all bots and fascists, most things that made tech fun or exciting a decade or more ago has rotted out. And then, as every other tech company falls over themselves to gut the entirety of the arts and humanities to feed them into their Plagiarism Machines so techbros don’t have to pay artists, Apple—the “intersection of technology and liberal arts”—goes and does this? Et tu?

I picture last week as the moment Apple looked down and realized, Wile E Coyote style, they they were standing out in mid-air having walked off the edge of their accumulated good will.

On the one hand, no, that’s not what they meant, it was misinterpreted. But on the other hand—yes, maybe it really was what they meant, the people making just hadn’t realized the degree to which they were saying the quiet part out loud.

Because a company smashing beautiful tools that have worked for decades to reveal a device that’ll stop being eligible for software updates in a few years is the perfect metaphor for the current moment.

Doctor Who and The Devil’s Chord

First: what a great title!

If “Space Babies” was about re-establishing what median-value Doctor Who is like and getting everyone back on board, “The Devil’s Chord” seems like it’s about building out from that and establishing how the show is going to work going forward. Because as soon as The Maestro climbs out of that piano, it’s clear we’re operating in a different gear—excuse me—different key than we have before. Between this and the previous, theres a real sense of “mission statement”: this is the vibe Doctor Who is going for in this iteration. Evil drag queen space gods eating the concept of Music and destroying the future? Yes, please. We’re miles away from anything else on Disney+, or anywhere else on TV.

This is also where Gatwa’s and Davies’s take on the character is starting to come into focus. Back at Christmas and then in “The Space Babies” the take on the character was basically “big and fun.” And this stays true here, the Doctor’s excitement over where Ruby wants to go is a standout, and also feels like Davies riffing on the last time he was relaunching the show, where the first place the new companion wanted to go was to watch their dad get killed in a car accident? Finally, as he says, they want to go somewhere fun.

But I’m starting to run out of ways to phrase “this is all really fun!”, so fortunately this is where they start—and I’m sorry but I can’t help myself—adding more notes to the character. Presumably we’ll all be writing “this is when they really cracked the character” pieces next week, but for the moment two observations:

The second most interesting of these is when the Doctor realizes who or what they’re dealing with, and his response is to just… run away. The scene where they’re hiding from The Maestro and the Doctor makes a sound-proof zone to cover their tracks is probably the most effective sequence in any of Gatwa’s time so far.

“Scared” isn’t usually an emotional state the Doctor operates in, for solid structural reasons if nothing else. Doctor Who is frequently a scary show, and it’s sweet spot is right out at the edge of what the younger audience is capable of handling. But one of the things that lets Doctor Who get away with operating that far out on the ice is the character of the Doctor themselves. The Doctor is effectively indestructible, nearly always wins, and almost never scared, so they provide a real emotional safety net for the younger audience—The Doctor is here, so this is all going to be okay. Obviously we’ll see where this goes, but combined with them running away from the monster in “The Space Babies” as well, this take on the character seems to be centering on “enthusiastic but scares easy,” which is a fascinating take.

The most interesting scene, though, was the bit where he mentions that he and his granddaughter are currently living on the other side of town. Gatwa takes an interesting angle on the scene, and rather than sad or wistful, he plays the Doctor as basically cheered up by the idea that she was out there, regardless of where she is now. Unlike the last time Davies was show-running, this clearly isn’t a character that’s going to stand crying out in the rain.

This is, I think, the first time Susan has been mentioned by name in the 21st century version of the show. Like the premise speed-run in the previous episode, or the re-staging of the ruined future scene from “Pyramids of Mars” in this one, this feels less like a deep-cut continuity reference than a combination of making clear what elements of the show are in play while also deliberately hanging some guns over the mantle. Add to that the name drop of The Rani last week, and the not one but two mysterious women lurking around in the background of these last couple of shows, and clearly something is up. I’m going to refuse to speculate further, sine Davies likes to drop in these crumbs but never before built up a mystery that was solvable, these are always things that can’t make sense until the context of whatever the big-ticket finale does in June. But! Fun spotting the things that will make more sense on the rewatch regardless.

Because I grew up in a very Beatles-centric house, a few notes on the boys from Liverpool themselves. Lennon didn’t start wearing that style of round glasses until much later, but I understand wanting to flag “which one is John” with his most signature feature considering how little the actors look like the real people. I was hoping the the secret chord was going to turn out to be the mysterious opening chord of A Hard Day's Night. And look, if it had been me, I’d have had Harrison be the one to solve the puzzle.

Finally, the ending dance sequence looks like it was a lot more fun to make than it was to watch, mostly because that song wasn’t nearly good enough to spend, what, three whole minutes on? I think I see what they’re trying to do, but more than anything it had the quality that they had under-run and needed to pad out the show.

But, it was big and fun, and one of the all-time great cinematic battles of Ham vs Ham since Shatner and Montalban squared off. Jinkx Monsoon clearly looked at what Neal Patrick Harris did back in December and thought, “I can beat that.”

Were these two premiere episodes the best episodes of Doctor Who ever? No. But they’re more entertaining than the show has been in years, and it’s been even longer since it’s had this clear a vision of itself. In the six stories since November, we’ve gone from a 2008 revival piece to tuning up a whole new instrument. And then next week they’re handing it to the best person that’s ever played it…

Doctor Who and the Space Babies

And we’re back!

There’s an absolute sense of glee here. This is a show that’s absolutely in love with existing, made by people who are clearly relishing every second of their day, and inhabited by characters “glad to be alive.”

Thise sense of all-encompassing joy seems to be the central animus of Ncuti Gatwa’s take on the character—his is a Doctor who is psyched about everything and is here to have the best time possible, and hopes you’ll come along.

My favorite scene, if I’m honest, is the show ostentatiously spending the new Disney-infused budget on some gorgeous throwaway dinosaurs and then an absurdly expensive-looking prosthetic to land a butterfly-effect joke. It’s a show having an absolute ball that it can do things like this now. There’s a shot of the Doctor leaning against the Tardis while a volcano erupts in the background that’s exactly the kind of shot Doctor Who has always wanted to do, but never could until now.

And then, the final punchline of that scene with Gatwa’s muttered aside about having to turn on the Butterfly Compensator is the perfect example of the Doctor Who difference. On the one hand, it’s the exact kind of winking semi-science that’s Doctor Who’s bread-and-butter, but it’s also one of the things that makes the Doctor being an unreliable narrator of his own show so great, because it could just as easily be complete bullshit he made up on the spot because the real solution was more complex than he wanted to talk about.

But this is also our old friend, Russel T. Davies, angry nihilist, so my other favorite scene was the absolutely snarling satire about abortion and child care he banks into the episode halfway though, once everyone had relaxed and wasn’t ready for it.

Davies always liked a mostly fun and frothy lightweight season opener, and this is right in line. It’s just fun, infectiously so. After it was over, as the closing credits rolled, my fourteen year-old looked up and the screen and said “this show has got to be the best job in the world.”

⁂

It both is and is not a relaunch. On the one hand, Who has been in continuous production since 2005, albeit with an increasing irregular schedule. But on the other hand, this is the first regular actual season that wasn’t a one-off special or miniseries or something since January of 2020, and the show hasn’t been a mainstream hit since 2014 or so. And there’s probably a fair number of new-ish viewers coming in via Disney+.

So Davies splits the difference, correctly I think, and mostly seems to focus on people who have some familiarity with the show but need a refresher. “Remember that Doctor Who show you watched a decade ago? it’s back!” So the show speedruns laying out the premise, but in the gear of an extended “previously on” bit instead of making sure new viewers are keeping up.

But also, every show is a tangled mass of dense auto-continuity these days. And every episode of the show is streaming on iPlayer. Wikipedia will point you and the right ones. And every single references or easter egg is going to spawn dozens of explainer articles or reddit threads or youtube videos or some other SEO-chasing content glurge. Davies seems to cheerfully shrug and recognize that everyone that doesn’t know all this by heart is going to look it up anyway, so why burn too much screen time on it when he can use that for something else.

This doesn’t feel like anything so much as the start of a new creative team on a long-running comic, so the lore recap is not only there to help people jump back on board, but gives Davies a way to lay out which bits he’s going to be using. He’s clearly taken with the idea of the Doctor as an orphan, but all the other store-brand Campbell chosen one “revelations” that surrounded that a few years ago are left unmentioned. And his description of what happened to the Time Lords doesn’t really match anything we saw on screen before. But that’s less about “being inaccurate” than, I think, establishing the vibe the show intends to go on with. “There was a genocide and I was the only survivor” sets a very specific tone here in 2024, even before you factor in the fact that those lines are being spoken by the child of Rwandan refugees. It’s a very different tone from 2005’s “there was a war and everyone lost.”

It’s worth comparing the approach here with how Davies relaunched the show the last time, back in 2005. There, the show very carefully walked the audience through what was happening, and made sure everyone got it before moving on to the next thing. Here, the show knows that shows this complex are the default rather than the exception, assumes most of the audience already knows all this but needs reminder, and for anyone else, here’s enough keywords so you can fill in the gaps on wikipedia tomorrow morning.

The TV landscape around Doctor Who is very different now than it was in 2005. In ’05, there was basically nothing doing what Who does best—science fantasy adventure stories for smart 12-year olds and their parents. The only other significant science fiction show to speak of was Battlestar Galactica, and that was in a whole different gear. Buffy had just gone off the air, Star Trek Enterprise was gasping out it’s last season. Who had a lot of room to maneuver, but not a lot of context, so it started from “basically Buffy” and then built up from there.

Here in ’24, there’s a lot of TV operating in Who’s neighborhood. Heck, even just on Disney+, the various Marvel and Star Wars shows are going after much the same audience, and the next streaming app over is full of new actually good new Star Trek.

As such, Davies doesn’t waste a lot of time on median value Who, but leans all the way in on stuff only Doctor Who would even thinking of doing. One of the major animating forces here seems to be, basically “Yeah, Loki was pretty good. You ever see Loki do this?” and then pulling back the curtain to show a room full of babies. Space babies.

What makes this show different from all the other sci-fi-eqsue shows with baroque lore? A main character who loves life, loves what he does, doesn’t carry a weapon, and thinks it’s just as important to save the monster as anyone else.

A criticism you sometimes see about this show is that it “doesn’t take things seriously enough”, or variations thereof. And this is one of those criticisms that almost gets it, but missed the point entirely. Because the show does take things seriously, just not the same things that a show like Star Trek does. To quote the show’s own lead character, the show is very serious about what it does, just not necessarily the way it does it. To put that another way, Doctor Who is a show that takes being very silly very seriously.

At 46, I loved every second of this, but if I’m honest, I know I would have absolutely hated this at 15, and (even more embarrassingly) probably would have hated it at 30. What I didn’t understand then, but understand now, is that being incredibly serious all the time isn’t a sign of strength, or maturity, or “adultness”. It turns out, it’s the exact opposite. To quote the Doctor again, there’s no point in being grown up if you can’t be childish sometimes.

And maybe serious isn’t the right word for what I mean here. Doctor Who frequently isn’t “serious”, but it is always “sincere.” And that’s “The Space Babies”; it isn’t serious for an instant, but it’s as sincere as anything.

Plus, they spent a tremendous amount of Disney’s money to put a huge fart joke on BBC One in primetime.

Nice to see you again, Doctor.

Weak Points in the Critical Apparatus

There’s a class of artists that the critical apparatus has always had a problem with. These are artists who, regardless of medium or genre, are:

1. Broadly Popular
2. Consistant
3. Prolific
4. and this last one is the real key: not complex in the ways the critical apparatus is set up to value

And mostly we live in a time where we’ve figured out how to talk about this and we don’t sweat High vs low art thing as much.

But every now and then one of those artists will release something that banks into the broader culture at a weird angle. And the critical apparatus kinda just throws their hands up in the air and says “it’s fine, I guess? You already know if you want it, why are you hassling me?”

Movies from Last Year I Finally Saw: The Marvels

Most of last year’s big (or at least big-adjacent) movies “finally” hit streaming towards the end of the year, so I’ve been working my way though them and then writing them up here, back injury allowing. Previously, previously, previously, previously, previously.

Some movies just don’t deserve the circumstances of their release. But things happen, and movies don’t always get released at the ideal time or place. Such is business! Such is life. Case in point, two things are true about The Marvels:

1. This is a fun movie! It’s one of Marvel’s’ better efforts in recent years, it’s full of appealing leads, fun action. It’s pretty good, I liked it, and more importantly, my kids who are right in the center of Marvel’s target age demographic liked it. Solid B!
2. This is absolutely the movie where the MCU ground out on a sandbar.

When long-running series in any medium finally grounds out, as they always do, there’s always a point where the audience just doesn’t show up, and something craters. And it’s always slightly unfair to whatever ends up in that crater, since the the quality if that particular thing doesn’t matter—by definition, no one saw it. Instead, it’s the built-up reactions to the last several things. As the joke goes, the current season of The Simpsons might be the best it’s ever been, but who would know? I’m certainly not going to waste my time finding out.

The MCU as a project had been sputtering since Avengers: Endgame gave everyone an offramp and then failed to find a way to get everyone back on board, but this was the point the built-up goodwill ran out. The MCU running out of gas was a big reason for 2023’s strange box office; “superhero fatigue” means a lot of different things based on whose saying it, but a lot of the time what it really means is “I’ve paid full price for enough mid-tier Marvel movies, thanks.”

And it’s really unfair that this innoffensive fun little movie had to be the one that became one of the biggest box office bombs in history, while far-worse misfires like that third Ant-Man or The Eternals, or that awful second Doctor Strange were “successful.” In retrospect, it’s clear whatever Marvel movie came out at the end of ’23 was going to be the bomb, and I, for one, am sorry it was this one.

It’s also a little weird since a lot of the strange blowback the original Captain Marvel got in certain quarters was due to being the one movie between the two halves of the Infinity War / Endgame pair; you ended on a crazy cliffhanger, but first you want us to watch a seemingly-unconnected semi-prequel with an unconvincing de-aged Nick Fury? What? As the the saying goes, if I had a nickle every time a Captain Marvel movie got screwed over by its place in the release order, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

But enough context, how was the movie?

The standout, of course, is Iman Vellani as Kamala Khan. She was outstanding in the criminally under-watched Ms. Marvel, and she’s the best part of this movie. And even better, the Khan family comes along from the show. The best parts of this movie is when it’s “Ms. Marvel: The Movie”, to an extent that they clearly should have had the courage to just do that.

But this is mostly a sequel to Captain Marvel, and that’s a little more mixed. The script seems to want Captain Marvel to be a loner wandering gunslinger-type, haunted by the past and avoiding everyone. The problem is that Brie Larson clearly wants to play the part as a sort of wisecracking Doctor Who with laser hands, bouncing around the universe with her cat getting into and out of scrapes. When the movie gets out of her way and lets her do that—flirting with Tessa Thompson, dropping in on planets where she might have married the prince that one time but don’t worry about it, deadpanning lines like “he’s bilingual,” the character works great. Whenever the action screeches to halt so that Carol Danvers can be sad about things that happened off camera since the last movie, or so she and Teyonah Parris’ Monica Rambeau can be mad at each other for poorly justified reasons, the movie falls apart as the actors visibly struggle to make such undercooked gruel of a script work.

Meanwhile, that leaves Teyonah Parris kind of stuck playing “the third one”. Unlike in WandaVision, Monica Rambeau here doesn’t really congeal as a character. But she’s still fun, gets some good banter in, does the best she can with material.

On the other hand, Samuel L Jackson is having more fun playing Nick Fury than he has since, well, maybe ever. He’s always been a funnier actor than most people use him as, and he absolutely shines here bantering over the radio, or gawking at flerkin eggs.

The central conceit is that the powers of the three main leads become “entangled”, so whenever two of them use their powers at the same time they swap places. This turns out to be a great idea; both to get the three of them working together with a minimum of fuss, but also as a basic teamwork gimmick. The parts of the movie where they’re hanging out, listening to Beastie Boys learning how to use the swaps, or turning every fight into a tag team absolutely sing.

And this is really my core review: when it’s a movie about three charismatic women tag-team fighting space aliens, it’s a really fun adventure movie. It’s funny, it’s exciting, it all basically works. “Found Family” is overdone these days, but it’s hard to begrudge a cliché when it’s done this charmingly. It’s very “watchable.”

That said, it also has the now-standard Marvel Flaws^TM: an antagonist who isn’t a villain so much as a hole where a villain should be, a third act that devolves into incoherent CGI punching, and a resolution that’s the sort of “whoops, out of time, better do some poorly-justified vaguely sci-fi bullshit” that usually only happens when the b-plot of that week’s TNG episode ran long.

And there’s a stack of unforced errors too: while the place-swapping is the core concept for most of the movie, it never really pays off. When they finally get to the point where they’re going to have the showdown with the villain, the swapping stops for reasons as poorly-explained as why it started, and instead the antagonist gets what she wanted the whole time and immediately blows herself up. It’s a staggeringly incompetent ending, why on earth wouldn’t you use the thing that’s the main spine of the movie to allow the good guys to win? It’s almost trivial to imagine an ending where the three Marvels use their place swap powers to outwit their opponent, it’s inconceivable that no one working on the movie thought of one.

Which seems like the right time to mention that this is also the movie that inspired Bob Iger’s infamous and tone-deaf comments about having needed more executive supervision. On the one hand, that’s absurd, but watching this, it’s hard not to see what he means. As another example: this movie stars three characters from different sources, one of whom—Captain Marvel—already had her own successful solo movie and then co-starred in the most successful movie ever made, the other two were from different streaming-only shows that, rounding to the nearest significant digit, no-one watched. So, the character that gets the extended “previously on” flashback clip reel is… Captain Marvel? Yeah, movie, I remember Carol Danvers, we’re good there. I could have used a reminder about where Monica Rambeau ended up after WandaVision, though.

There really needed to be someone to look at that and go, “uhhh, are you sure about that?” And the movie is full of weird little lumpy decions like that.

But look, a couple of years ago, none of that would have mattered. We know this is true because Dr. Strange did just fine, and it has all these flaws and then some. But this movie didn't come out then, it came out now.

One of the lynchpins of the whole Marvel Movie project has been that they quickly figured out how to raise the floor and to make 2-3 movies a year that were guaranteed to be a B-, and then if a particular creative team came along and shot the lights out you were in great shape. And when one particular movie didn’t for whatever reason, that was mostly okay. There’s no shame in being mid-tier. Except, it’s now been years of nothing but mid-tier, and that infrastructure B- seems to have decayed to a C. And in a world where taking four people to see a movie costs more than the new Zelda, I think a lot of us need a little more than. “mid-tier.”

How can I put this—I suspect I’m a lot softer on the MCU than most people who own the number of Criterion Collection releases that I do? I tend to view Marvel Movies as the movie equivalent of fast food—but good fast food, In-N-Out burger or the like. And look, as much as we all like to talk about the death of cinema or whatever, being able to buy a double-double on the weekend doesn't actually make that much of a difference to the good restaurants downtown, and I think the MCU has had less of an influence on the world around it than we give it credit for. That said, there is a point where you say “gosh, we’ve gotten In-N-Out too much lately, you wanna go somewhere good?”

Last Week In Good Sentences

It’s been a little while since I did an open tab balance transfer, so I’d like to tell you about some good sentences I read last week.

Up first, old-school blogger Jason Kottke links to a podcast conversation between Ezra Klein and Nilay Patel in The Art of Work in the Age of AI Production. Kottke quotes a couple of lines that I’m going to re-quote here because I like them so much:

EZRA KLEIN: You said something on your show that I thought was one of the wisest, single things I’ve heard on the whole last decade and a half of media, which is that places were building traffic thinking they were building an audience. And the traffic, at least in that era, was easy, but an audience is really hard. Talk a bit about that.

NILAY PATEL: Yeah first of all, I need to give credit to Casey Newton for that line. That is something — at The Verge, we used to say that to ourselves all the time just to keep ourselves from the temptations of getting cheap traffic. I think most media companies built relationships with the platforms, not with the people that were consuming their content.

“Building traffic instead of an audience” sums up the last decade and change of the web perfectly. I don’t even have anything to add there, just a little wave and “there you go.”

Kottke ends by linking out to The Revenge of the Home Page in the The New Yorker, talking about the web starting to climb back towards a pre-social media form. And that’s a thought thats clearly in the air these days, because other old school blogger Andy Baio linked to We can have a different web.

I have this theory that we’re slowly reckoning with the amount of cognitive space that was absorbed by twitter. Not “social media”, but twitter, specifically. As someone who still mostly consumes the web via his RSS reader, and has been the whole time, I’ve had to spend a lot of time re-working my feeds the last several months because I didn’t realize how many feeds had rotted away but I hadn’t noticed because those sites were posting update as tweets.

Twitter absorbed so much oxygen, and there was so much stuff that migrated from “other places” onto twitter in a way that didn’t happen with other social media systems. And now that twitter is mostly gone, and all that creativity and energy is out there looking for new places to land.

If you’ll allow me a strained metaphor, last summer felt like last call before the party at twitter fully shut down; this summer really feels like that next morning, where we’ve all shook off the hangover and now everyone is looking at each other over breakfast asking “okay, what do you want to go do now?”

---

Jumping back up the stack to Patel talking about AI for a moment, a couple of extra sentences:

But these models in their most reductive essence are just statistical representations of the past. They are not great at new ideas. […] The human creativity is reduced to a prompt, and I think that’s the message of A.I. that I worry about the most, is when you take your creativity and you say, this is actually easy. It’s actually easy to get to this thing that’s a pastiche of the thing that was hard, you just let the computer run its way through whatever statistical path to get there. Then I think more people will fail to recognize the hard thing for being hard.

(The whole interview is great, you should go read it.)

But that bit about ideas and reducing creativity to a prompt brings me to my last good sentences, in this depressing-but-enlightening article over on 404 media: Flood of AI-Generated Submissions ‘Final Straw’ for Small 22-Year-Old Publisher

A small publisher for speculative fiction and roleplaying games is shuttering after 22 years, and the “final straw,” its founder said, is an influx of AI-generated submissions. […] “The problem with AI is the people who use AI. They don't respect the written word,” [founder Julie Ann] Dawson told me. “These are people who think their ‘ideas’ are more important than the actual craft of writing, so they churn out all these ‘ideas’ and enter their idea prompts and think the output is a story. But they never bothered to learn the craft of writing. Most of them don't even read recreationally. They are more enamored with the idea of being a writer than the process of being a writer. They think in terms of quantity and not quality.”

And this really gets to one of the things that bothers me so much about The Plagiarism Machine—the sheer, raw entitlement. Why shouldn’t they get to just have an easy copy of something someone else worked hard on? Why can’t they just have the respect of being an artist, while bypassing the work it takes to earn it?

My usual metaphor for AI is that it’s asbestos, but it’s also the art equivalent of steroids in pro sports. Sure, you hit all those home runs or won all those races, but we don’t care, we choose to live in a civilization where those don’t count, where those are cheating.

I know several people who have become enamored with the Plagiarism Machines over the last year—as I imagine all of us do now—and I’m always struck by a couple of things whenever they accidentally show me their latest works:

First, they’re always crap, just absolute dogshit garbage. And I think to myself, how did you make it to adulthood without being able to tell what’s good or not? There’s a basic artistic media literacy that’s just missing.

Second, how did we get to the point where you’ve got the nerve to be proud that you were cheating?

Antiderivitives

I’ve been thinking all week about this macbook air review by Paul Thurrott: Apple MacBook Air 15-Inch M3 Review - Thurrott.com (via Daring Fireball).

For a little bit of context Thurrott has spend most of the last couple decades as The Windows Guy. I haven’t really kept up on the folks in the Windows ecosystem now that I’m not in that ecosystem as much anymore, so it’s wild to see him give a glowing review to the macbook.

It’s a great review, and his observations really mirrored mine when I made the switch fifteen years or so ago (“you mean, I can just close the lid, and that works?”). And it’s interesting to see what the Macbook looks like from someone who still has a Windows accent. But that’s not what I keep thinking about. What I keep thinking about is this little aside in the middle:

From a preload perspective, the MacBook Air is bogged down with far too many Apple apps, just as iPhones and iPads are. And I’m curious that Apple doesn’t get dinged on this, though you can, at least, remove what you don’t want, and some of the apps are truly useful. Sonoma includes over 30 (!) apps, and while none are literally crapware, many are gratuitous and unnecessary. I spent quite a bit of time cleaning that up, but it was a one-time job. And new users should at least examine what’s there. Some of these apps—Safari, Pages, iMovie, and others—are truly excellent and may surprise you. Obviously, I also installed a lot of the third-party apps I need.

And this is just the perfect summary of the difference in Operating System Philosophy between Redmond and Cupertino.

Microsoft has always taken the world-view that the OS exists to provide a platform for other people to sell you things. A new PC with just the Microsoft OS of the day, DOS, Windows 3, Win 95 Windows 11, whichever, is basically worthless. That machine won’t do anything for you that you want to do, you have to go buy more software from what Microsoft calls an “Independent software vendor” or from them, but they’re not gonna throw Word in for free, that’s crazy. PCs are a platform to make money.

Apple, on the other hand, thinks of computers as appliances. You buy a computing device from Apple, a Mac, iPhone, whatever, out of the box that’ll do nearly everything you need it to do. All the core needs are met, and then some. Are those apps best-in-class? In some cases, yes, but mostly if you need something better you’re probably a professional and already know that. They’re all-in-one appliances, and 3rd party apps are bonus value, but not required.

And I think this really strikes to the heart of a lot of the various anti-monopoly regulatory cases swirling around Apple, and Google, and others. Not all, but a whole lot of them boil down to basically, “Is Integration Bad?” Because one of the core principles of the last several decades of tech product design has been essentially “actually, it would be boss if movie studios owned their own theatres”.

And there’s a lot more to it than that, of course, but also? Kinda not. We’ve been doing this experiment around tightly integrated product design for the last couple of decades, and how do “we” (for certain values of “we”) feel about it?

I don’t have a strong conclusion here, so this feels like one of those posts where I end by either linking to Libya is a land of contrasts or the dril tweet about drunk driving..

But I think there’s an interesting realignment happening, and you can smell the winds shifting around whats kinds of tradeoffs people are willing to accept. So maybe I’ll just link to this instead?