Doctor Who: Midnight (2008)

Some mood music, while you read.

We at the PPCC are huge sci-fi nerds, and yet it has taken us a long (loooong) time to get into that one mighty pillar of sci-fi-ness, Britain's Doctor Who of Britain, starring Britain, co-starring Britishness. Okay, we tease, but, damn, that shit is nationalistic! Which is fine. Most spec fic is notoriously US-centric, after all. Anyway, we're glad we finally initiated ourself. In addition to being nationalistic like crazy sauce, it is also addictive and silly and fun and full of everything.

It's difficult to review a PILLAR, so instead we'll focus on a few things:

• The episode, Midnight, and how it's awesome and a good intro. (Review)
  
• Some Doctor Who themes, and how they run the gamut from awesome to stupid to huh-ness. (Thoughts)

Allons-y, then!  

Episode review: Midnight

Doctor Who episodes seem to come in three varieties:

• Really trashy, ridiculous, and occasionally awful one-off episodes, featuring a Monster of the Week. As some of our friends assured us, "You do know it's a kid's show, right?" (No, we didn't! But now we do. Oh, how we do.)
  
• Really spectacular, mind-bending one-offs.
  
• Mediocre-to-good episodes that are usually redeemed by giving us one more crumb along the Great Path of Understanding the Doctor, usually accompanied by a Great Emotional Moment for the Doctor as well. These are exciting.

Midnight falls into the secondary category. It's the perfect gateway episode; you can watch it while knowing nothing of the Doctor and his Interminable Journey. But, of course, the experience is much richer if you do know a bit, since Midnight takes several Doctory themes, and then subverts them in refreshing ways.

Midnight begins on a fancy, diamondy planet called, uh, Midnight. Which is ironic, since it is brilliant and sparkling and very, very sunny. It is also totally hostile to any form of life; the sun being "x-tonic", which is technobabble for "zapping killer laser beam-like". The Doctor (David Tennant) and his Companion, the wonderful Donna Noble (the wonderful Catherine Tate), are taking a (much-deserved) break on Midnight, which markets itself as a party planet. The Doctor decides to go on a nature tour, while Donna lounges by the pool.

On the nature tour, we're introduced to a variety of Typical Human People: there's the suburban couple (Daniel Ryan, Lyndsay Coulsen) and their sullen teen son (Colin Morgan), the bumbling professor (David Troughton) and his geeky assistant (Ayesha Antoine), the flight attendant (Rakie Ayola; called a "hostess" in the episode, since apparently it's also 1950), and a middle-aged divorcee (Lesley Sharp). After lampooning modern commercial flight (endless, chattering entertainment options, tiny peanut packets, and so on), the journey is underway. The Doctor makes a few friends, people joke, and obviously something horrible is looming on the horizon.

We won't give away the horribleness, because much of the episode's genius is the smart and inventive (and cheaply-produced!) monster that we meet. If it's a monster at all. But it's something straight out of The Twilight Zone or Hitchcock: the fear and tension is slow, subtle, and gripping. One subversion of the Doctor Who routine is that the Doctor is as ignorant as everyone else on the ship (and in the audience) as to what the It thing is. Nothing is supposed to live on Midnight, and yet it seems something has? (Note that we can't even conclusively say that something has. One lovely interpretation of the episode is that there was nothing there at all, and everyone just freaked themselves out.)

A second subversion of Doctor Who's usual stuff is that, for once, humanity isn't celebrated, but instead retreats immediately into the banality of evil. When confronted with something difficult to understand and potentially violent, the passengers become scary and bestial themselves. It's reminiscent of J.G. Ballard's comments on seeing the "ragged scaffolding" of suburban civilization strip away, and how rattling that can be. For Doctor Who fans and the Doctor himself, it's especially rattling: usually, humanity has a big ol' crush on the Doctor, and is always happy to be helped. Here, they're skeptical, paranoid, hostile.

Anyway, the craft in this episode is just brilliant. The dialogue: building up tension, revealing aspects of the It thing's otherness slowly, taking sudden turns. Argh, as a writer, the PPCC burned with jealousy at someone having had such a good idea! The music. The acting: Tennant is always pretty damn good, but his role-reversal during the climax was so well-done. As with Lesley Sharp, especially in the earlier moments of being possessed, when she's/it's "learning". Ah! So good. Bravi, bravi.  

Big thoughts  

First big thought: Doctor Who is Buddhism

In fact, it might be as Buddhist as Groundhog Day, and that's pretty damn Buddhist. Except, whereas Groundhog Day is uplifting because it shows us nirvana (the ultimate happy ending), Doctor Who just grounds the PPCC down with its nihilistic woe. Seriously, how can this be a kid's show? HOW?! It is misery by design.

The most obvious Buddhist links are, first, the regeneration, and, second, the eternal woe. Oh, the woe.

One of the central tenets of Buddhism is that life is suffering, and it tends to repeat again and again, until we can break out of it by building mindfulness and compassion and non-attachment. Once you break out of that cycle of life and rebirth, you turn into Bill Murray - i.e. a Buddha, an enlightened being. In Mahayana Buddhism, there's an intermediate stage, called a bodhisattva - that's someone who delays nirvana, staying amongst the merely-stuck to teach about loving-kindness and being all nice and stuff.

You could argue that the Doctor's a bodhisattva. But we wouldn't. Because while he is pretty helpful and sorta nice and all that, he's also fighting the same battles over and over again: those Daleks never seem to die, do they? Nor does the (wonderful) Master (nor should he!).

Similarly, you'd think the Doctor would have learned, by now, that attachment leads to suffering (second Noble Truth in the ol' Buddhism). But he doesn't - constantly seeking out Companions, and constantly, ahem, effing them over. They never seem to emerge unscathed from their adventures. Seriously, after you've lost various Companions to death, dismemberment and being locked in a parallel universe, JUST STOP, DUDE.

So, it's Buddhism, but it's Buddhism at its saddest: the moment after the First and Second Noble Truths (life sucks, and the sucking will go on forever), and before the Third and Fourth (wait, maybe I should stop all this). To use a Christian analogy, it's like modeling a story on the moment after Jesus dies, but before he's resurrected. It's just miserable, dude.

 IS THIS WHAT YOU TEACH YOUR CHILDREN, BRITAIN?!

Which brings us to the second big thought.  

Second big thought: Doctor Who is Nationalism

 "Oh no," someone gasps. "They're headed towards Earth!"

Cut to outline of the UK.

The ostensible backstory is that the Doctor loves Earth like peanut butter loves jam. And that's fine. But Earth is basically Britain. And not only that - it's England. Scottish David Tennant wasn't allowed to keep his Scottish accent because, of all the regenerations a rogue Time Lord could make, of all the species, the genders, the heights and the everythings, the dude's gotta be a white English male every. single. time. Rumor has it the newest Doc, Peter Capaldi, will be retaining his Scottish accent, but this was - apparently - a major BBC decision.

Sometimes, the nationalism stuff is grating. But we know that we have no leg to stand on; most sci-fi is heavily skewed towards the US, and few people even seem to notice. At other times, the nationalism stuff is hilarious and wonderful, such as when an ailing Doctor - remember, this guy's a magical, super-smart, self-healing, time-traveling alien - is on the brink of death and then healed by the power of a CUP OF TEA. (Seriously, that was brilliant.)

Another wonderful byproduct of the Who's nationalism, is its portrayal of workaday Normal British Folk in all the supporting characters: Rose Tyler (Billie Piper), the London shopkeeper. Donna Noble, who's "just a temp from Chiswick!" And their funny families! Everyone is pretty modest, even mediocre. What's nice about the show is that it celebrates this normality for the inherent brilliance it can conceal.

Third big thought: Doctor Who is fandom

Fandom is nice. Fandom is fun. And Doctor Who has a huge, gigantic, long-lived fandom that seems to go on and on in every direction, and rival the Trekkies in terms of historicity and population density. Many of our good friends are Whovians. Some of the latest Doctors themselves - Tennant and Capaldi - are Whovians. And then you've got things like Adventure Time fans and fun, smart YouTube channel fans, and references all over the place. And the fanfiction! Oh, the fanfiction. We don't even want to go there.

For whatever reason (we still haven't pinpointed it), this miserable, lonely Time Lord has captured everyone and their mom's attention - including ours. The PPCC has basically put everything on hold while we finished off the Tennant years. And now we've still got all of Matt Smith to go - oh God.

There's still so much to say - how Doctor Who compares to Star Trek, especially The Next Generation, since we do think they are two sides of the same (weird) coin. Or the weird moments of transcendental, pulpy space opera in Who - especially when they talk about the Time War (and it sounds like the line-up for a heavy metal festival, "the Could-Have-Been King and his army of Meanwhiles and Never-Weres!"). But we'll leave that to another day, as it's 1AM here and a Time Lord has just regenerated in our laptop!

Groundhog Day (1993)

Seasonal PPCC is seasonal!

Yes indeedy, folks, it's Groundhog Day! And what better film to review than the wonderful Groundhog Day! One of those Perfect Films that is not only technically perfect, but also tremendously lovable.

Groundhog Day, for our non-American readership, is the peculiar American festival that takes place every February 2nd. On this day, the groundhog - "Prognosticator of prognosticators!" - crawls out of his hole and either sees or doesn't see his shadow. Based on this, we know whether we'll be getting six more weeks of winter or not.

Groundhog Day, the film, is a relentless avalanche of wit and wisdom, as misanthropic weatherman Phil Connors (Bill Murray, in one of his best performances. eva.) gets stuck reliving the same Groundhog Day over and over... and over... and over again. And again. And again again again. While everyone else seems to be experiencing the day for the first time, Phil is stuck in a time loop: he moves forward, time does not.

At first, Phil runs wild. He gorges on sweets, punches the annoying insurance salesman Ned (Stephen Toblowsky), picks up ladies and has zany car chases with the police. He spends an indeterminate - but no doubt inordinate - amount of time trying to pick up his gorgeous producer, Rita (Andie MacDowell, in a fresh, light performance). When tiring of all that, Phil despairs. He stops shaving, stops getting dressed for work, starts killing himself day after day after day. But it's only when Phil starts shedding his cynicism and helping others that things start to look brighter for him.

This film has been claimed by various religious groups - most often Buddhists. The cyclical story with its spiritual overtones certainly lends itself to such an interpretation. And the writing by Danny Rubin is clever enough - with layers upon layers of symbolism and parallels and just plain puns - that there certainly must have been an ulterior, philosophical motive.

But the genius of the film is its wit: it is deep message bottled up in a light and frothy champagne. The comic timing is perfect - just watch the repeated sequences as Phil perfects (and perfects and perfects) his pick-up lines. In fact, Bill Murray's performance is notably good here as well: lots of laugh-out-loud moments. It was also zany and meta to watch the actors repeating their lines; a commentary on filmmaking, perhaps? Or our own chats at work? OR LIFE?!

Whatever way you want to take it - as a deep dharma text or as a bubbly comedy to brighten up dreary Pennsylvania Februarys (or Massachusetts Februarys, for that matter) - this is a great film. Highly highly highly recommended, regardless of the time of year.

Siddhartha (1972)

The prodigal Shashi has returned!

It's Buddhist Film Festival for an Indeterminate Time Period here at the PPCC! So basically, readers, the PPCC was all up in McLeod Ganj recently, soaking in the Buddhist vibes and learning more about Tibetan cuisine culture (okay, side note, but tsampa is like Tibet's gift to the world). While there, we took advantage of engaging in a little DVD buying splurge, and ended up trucking home a number of dharma and quasi-dharma titles - including the one, the only, the long-sought-for, Siddhartha! YES. WE FINALLY HAVE A COPY.

And then there's a thin guy called Siddhartha, who started it all. And it's not 'Sid Arthur' like an East End of London (does accent) "'Ello, Sid Arthur 'ere. Apples and pears, dog and bone, the middle way, that's what I think. Wotcher want? Couple a pound of raspberries? No problem, there you go. Buddhism: take it or leave it."
- Eddie Izzard

WHO IS SIDDHARTHA/THE HISTORICAL BUDDHA? A PPCC CLASSROOM INITIATIVE

First of all: the historical legend of Prince Siddhartha Gautama goes like this: Once 2500 years ago, there was a prince named Siddhartha. He was born and lived in what is now Bihar or Nepal (we're not sure). Anyway, the kingdom was called Kapilavastu. At birth, he was predicted to become either a great king or a great spiritual teacher. Siddhartha's father, Sudhodhana (a great king), was hoping for the great king part. To ensure Siddhartha's great kingliness, he metaphorically locked his son up in a golden cage where only beauty and awesomeness could reside. Thus Siddhartha lived into his twenties not knowing about anything (or, at least, anything that sucked).

But he was not satisfied with this arrangement! Under cover of night, accompanied by a servant, and against his father's wishes, he ventured out into the great wide world beyond his palace walls. There, he was confronted with: a sick person, an old person, a dead person. All new for him! Siddhartha was appalled that human life was guaranteed to have such suffering - who wants to grow old and die?! - and he brooded over ways out of this existential pickle. He decided on the spiritual path and, leaving his wife and infant son behind, embarked on a spiritual journey which would end with his Enlightenment, the spread of Buddhism, and his family reunited again.

For six years, he lived as an ascetic - wasting away to skin and bones, probing the philosophies of the rishis he met, and generally trying it all out. After six years, he realized this ascetism wasn't getting him anywhere, and he accepted - to the shock and horror of his six (?) rishi companions - a bowl of curd (or was it rice?) from a village girl passing through. He then resolved to find his own way to spiritual awakening. Sitting down under the what-is-now-legendary bodhi tree, he vowed not to get up until he had achieved Enlightenment. That night, the forces of Mara - a demon representing the roller coaster of desire - attacked him, but Siddhartha was very chill and hardly cared. Eventually, Siddhartha achieved Enlightenment. He opened his eyes and saw: the full moon! This became Vesak, an important Buddhist holiday celebrated during May's full moon.

Siddhartha, who would now be called the Buddha (or, Enlightened One), thought this was great, but hesitated about sharing his newfound wisdom with the rest of humanity. Just then, Brahma (as in, THE Brahma) came down from heaven - or wherever it is Brahma hangs out nowadays (?) - and told Siddhartha/Buddha that he totally needs to tell everyone because, as he put it (I think?), there are people "with only a little dust" in their eyes. So Siddhartha/Buddha started teaching, and wandered around the Gangetic plain spreading his ideas, and then died, leaving the cycle of rebirth entirely.

So that's all great. And that's all legend and religious fiction, in our opinion. What we know of Siddhartha and Buddhism was written down 200-300 years after he died, and is now compiled in the Pali Canon. For a slightly more historical take on Siddhartha's life, you can read Pankaj Mishra's An End to Suffering (very blah) or Osamu Tezuka's 8-part manga series Buddha (very amazing!) or the Pali Canon (very encyclopedic - it covers everything). What you should definitely not do... is watch Conrad Rooks' Siddhartha.

Or, for that matter, read Herman Hesse's book, on which the film is based.

That's because Hesse (and Rooks, by default) wasn't interested in (1) a historically authentic, or (2) an according-to-legend portrayal of Siddhartha. Instead, he reinvents the story in an attempt to synthesize what struck him about Buddhism and Hinduism - both of which, by most accounts, he deeply respected. The result is a bit of a mash-up of the two (which, as Buddhists, we doth protest! but more on that some other time) in a kinda New Agey kinda Euro-centric thing. The film, which sticks pretty close to the book, is likewise vague and a little Orientalist.

In the film, Siddhartha (Shashi Kapoor) is a young, scrappy Brahmin, impatient with the spiritual sluggishness of his current lifestyle. With his friend, Govinda (Romesh Sharma), he defies his conservative father (Amrik Singh) and goes off to join the nearest group of wandering ascetics.


Govinda and Siddhartha, hanging with their new crowd.

Things take a sharp left turn when Siddhartha hears a teaching by the Buddha (!) - never shown on camera, hence enhancing his remotely divine vibe. Govinda is immediately convinced and signs up. Siddhartha, ever the skeptic, is... well, skeptical, and he tells the Buddha that, okay, that all sounds great, but he doesn't want to take some teacher's word for it - even if the teacher seems great and it's all very logical. He says he wants to figure out a spiritual path for himself. This is, actually, a very Buddhist thing to do, so well done there. The Buddha offers Siddhartha a flower and wishes him good luck.

Interlude: Siddhartha takes a ferry with a very nice boatman who talks philosophy.

Act Two. Siddhartha shows up in the nearest bustling town and is immediately smitten by the courtesan/noblewoman/Representative Vagina, Kamala (Simi Garewal). He approaches her, but she totally doesn't go for his rishi robes. So he shaves, oils his hair, and tries again - and she tells him that maybe, if he gets a job, they can date. But what employable skills does Siddhartha have? (We LOVE this line!) "I can think. I can wait. I can fast."


Ah, a woman! Will she offer some insights about the spiritual path?


Only in the bedroom!!

He is also literate, thanks to his Brahminly heritage. So a local merchant, Kamaswamy (Pincho Kapoor), hires him as an accountant and, together, they make millions! Siddhartha's life is suddenly full of inflation, payments pending, inventories and other material stuff. And, yes, both his new friends have "kama-" as the root to their names. "Kama" as in the Hindu concept of kama - the same kama making appearances in kamana ("to earn") and Kama Sutra. Insert one infamously awkward sex scene here.

Interlude: Siddhartha is now old, fat and grumpy. Being materialistic sucks! He sires a son and flees to the river.

Act Three. After convincing the philosopher-boatman to apprentice him in all things watery and deep, Siddhartha sheds his fancy silks for plain cotton, grows out his beard and meditates on the Now while ferrying people across the river, Provider of Many Metaphors. Eventually, Kamala and their son, Hassan (Kunal Kapoor, Shashi's real-life son), arrive to hear the Buddha's final teaching...


Beautiful cinematography makes up for a lot of vacuity.

From a Buddhist perspective, this film touches on several ideas which could easily fit into the standard Buddhist philosophy - the wisdom of accepting impermanence, beating your own spiritual path, the opportunity to learn from a wide variety of life experiences - but it's also vague enough that it could probably be shoe-horned into any religious framework. Consider, for example, Siddhartha's dip in the river following his materialistic period - a very Christian symbol for rebirth. Honestly, Groundhog Day is a more cutting, direct approach to Buddhism-on-film than this.

From a movie-nut perspective, the film is mediocre at best. It is only 80 minutes, but it drags those minutes into an eternal Now indeed. In its best moments - when the actors aren't speaking and the background music or symbolism is nice - you can admire the gorgeous cinematography, the luscious framing and color, the sheer aesthetics. At its worst, the movie is sluggish, meaningless and indulgent, with uniformly hideous acting. Unfortunately the film suffers from the common sin of mistaking obtuse pronouncements for wisdom, open-ended metaphors for deep insight. But with all the philosophical ambiguity, we're left with nothing in the end.


The moral of the story, in haiku form: The flowing river/How it flows so profoundly/Flow, river, flow on!

We also can't really enjoy a film with such tedious gender politics: the only woman is little more than a sex education course, far too inferior to either be angry that her husband abandoned her on a self-indulgent quest for "peace" or even hope for that peace for herself. Please! Show a woman attaining Enlightenment, Conrad Rooks/Herman Hesse, then we'll talk.


Laudamus te!