On television ‘The Rescue’ was a rather modest affair. A two-parter set after the drama of ‘The Dalek Invasion of Earth’, its primary role was to provide an introduction Vicki (Maureen O’Brien) who was cast in the wake of Susan’s departure.
From the director of the truly remarkable 1995 film La Haine comes a real life war movie, of sorts, which pits politics and terrorism side by side where soldiers and citizens are expendable as the policies they spew.
Spartacus doesn’t do filler episodes. Yes, ‘The Dead and the Dying’ may be the penultimate instalment of the show but that hardly means it’s an uneventful one.
This is an episode that is all about consequences, catharsis and remembering the dead. It’s a tribute to Crixus that develops into a tribute to all who have fallen in the war against Rome, masterfully executing numerous resonant moments while doing significant work building for what is sure to be an epic series finale.
TV of a quality like Broadchurch doesn’t come along very often. And in an age when telly is an elastic experience – something which can be paused, rewound, and watched whenever we demand it – it’s rare for a show to command such attention that it becomes an appointment: an hour that millions cannot afford to record or download, because it would leave them behind.
With most of the ground-work for Season 3 laid down in last week’s opener, this week finds Game of Thrones on surer footing. ‘Dark Wings, Dark Words’ is a more exciting episode and a more interesting one.
One of the wonderful things about Broadchurch is that it has made water cooler detectives of us all. Heck, even Ant & Dec were jabbering on about it on their Saturday evening entertainment trough; a sure sign that Chris Chibnall’s drama has deservedly reached the point of cultural supersaturation. The Geordie finger puppets suspected Reverend Paul Coates of murder, and Episode 6 doesn’t do anything to disprove that theory.
In this on demand digital age, we can stream Hollywood movies to our mobile phones and pre-order the DVD boxset of a television show before it has even aired. As Doctor Who approaches its 50th anniversary, the show is reaching ever-greater heights of popularity and international exposure. Amid all this, it somehow seems impossible to comprehend that there is a large swathe of the programme’s early episodes now lost to posterity.
Ahh, 1983. M*A*S*H, the moonwalk, ‘Mawdryn Undead’. Oh, and Mutually Assured Destruction. Good times.
But a bad time for The Doctor and Clara to land aboard a stricken Russian nuclear submarine. At the helm is Liam Cunningham, being all authoritarian and troubled, just as he was in BBC One’s short-lived space oddity Outcasts; while in the hold is David Warner, toting naught but a Walkman and a loveable grandfatherly nature.
You know that feeling you got as a child when you had to sing a song in front of the whole school? Well, they’ve gone and made a Doctor Who episode about it.
It’s a truism that Doctor Who inspires playground re-enactment; but rarely has an episode so obviously been designed with Monday morning playtime in mind. So much of the story is imitable: from the alien who barks like a dog to the fact that the monster is defeated with an autumn leaf. A psychically-charged, totemic sort of leaf, but a leaf nonetheless.
Doctor Who’s ‘Destiny of the Doctor’ series reaches its fourth instalment with ‘Babblesphere’, a tale for Tom Baker’s Doctor and Lalla Ward’s Romana. Written by Jonathan Morris, the play is performed by Ward with Roger Parrott.
Arriving on the Earth colony of Hephastos, the time travellers come across a replica of the palace of Versailles encased in a geodesic dome and set amid a harsh volcanic landscape. Within, they find an artistic commune where the perils of social media are writ large.