Category: Culture

Thought I'd give a few quick thoughts on the recent two-part Doctor Who story consisting of The Rebel Flesh (episode 5) and The Almost People (episode 6).

I was not originally looking forward to this two-parter. It didn't appear connected with the main season arc, it wasn't written by Steven Moffatt, and it seemed to involve just another monster of the week (or, well, group of monsters of the week). I was expecting it to be not-that-great, possibly on the order of Curse of the Black Spot, which I thought had good parts but was overall kinda lame.

It was with pleasure, then, that as soon as we got very far into The Rebel Flesh that the show turned out to be much more interesting than I first thought.

Basically–and this is not a significant spoiler but merely an explanation of the title monster–the story concerns a 22nd century technology that allows for the standard sci-fi staple of rapidly-produced, fully-functional, fully-memoried adult clones.

Normally I don't like that trope (doesn't fit real-world science), but they get there in an interesting way: The humans in the story don't realize at first that creating such clones is what they're doing. They think they are using a generic biological substance (called "flesh") to receive a temporary impression of a person's physical form and consciousness so that it can act as a temporary, remote-controlled disposable worker body to take on dangerous jobs so the human controller won't have to.

What they don't realize is that the way they technology works, they are actually creating new living beings with the bodily forms and memories of their operators. The Doctor even warns them that these beings may (or do) have souls, qualifying them as the subjects of rights just as much as normal humans.

At this point the episode becomes very interesting from a philosophical and theological perspective. The show's creators are now playing with themes that have important real-world applications.

It doesn't matter how you come up with a new human–they can be produced by marital intercourse the way God designed the process to work, or by fornication, adultery, or rape, or by in vitro fertilization, cloning, or materialization in a nanotech chamber–however you get them, they are real humans who have real human rights that must be respectd.

Even if they aren't quite human, if you make something that's alive (and thus has a soul, or animating principle of some sort) that displays human consciousness (and thus rational thought), you have a being with a rational soul that must be treated as equivalent to a human being in terms of rights and dignity. How it got here is irrelevant. Now that it's here, its rights must be honored.

So this episode is doing what sci-fi does well when it's working at its best–using an imaginative context to re-frame actual, important elements of human experience. Ones that our own technology has (since 1978, when Louise Brown, the first test-tube baby was born) begun to confront us with.

Thereafter follows the expected story of how the humans and their "flesh" dopplegangers ("gangers," as the show calls them) will relate. Naturally, it puts them at odds, but it does so without making either side clear-cut villains. It needed to do that–to show good on both sides–or it would have become unbearably cliche and far less interesting.

There are a lot of nice Doctor Who-esque moments along the way (particularly some nice references to the Doctor's prior incarnations), and while the story is not genius from star to finish (there are paint-by-numbers parts, particular in the second episode, The Almost People), it was much better than I expected.

The ultimate resolution of the human/gangers conflict was decent, though it was tainted by the typical bad sci-fi metaphysics regarding identity (one ganger character ends up substituting for his human counterpart in a way that is not plausible), but that's par for the course.

More interesting was the way the episode linked with the overall season arc. It was much more tightly integrated than first appeared.

Moffatt seems to have been doing at least slight script revisions to other authors scripts so that they will include at least passing references to the season arc (e.g., appearances of the eye-patch lady, the Doctor looking at Amy's positive/negative pregnancy through a medical scanner, references to the Doctor's apparent death in episode 1 of the season), but these have been very brief elements clearly added in script revision. 

The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People turns out to be much more tied to the main arc than that. My guess is that Moffatt proposed the idea and assigned someone else to write it. Either that or it was proposed at an early stage of season development and Moffatt realized how nicely it would fit into his overall plan.

Whatever the case, they end up pulling the triggers on several major season elements, which is good, because it was getting a little tiresome watching the eye-patch lady peek in on Amy every episode or two and watching the Doctor looking suspiciously at Amy with the medical scanner every episode. I was afraid they wouldn't pay these elements off until the end of the series, but they did in part two of the episode, and now I don't mind them. They have a decent relative proportion to the overall shape of the season arc.

I'm very keen to see what they do in the mid-season finale which airs this weekend (in America; it aired last weekend in England).

The ominous title (which is even more ominous based on what we've heard River Song say before) is A Good Man Goes To War.

Here's the bonus, online prequel to that episode:

What do you think?

Last week my home was invaded by bees–AGAIN! This was the third time. Apparently when my place was re-roofed recently, the anti-bee measures (netting blocking access to vents) that had been set up got disturbed, and the little varmints got in again.

Multiple people have been joking me that they keep returning because I'm so sweet. All I can say is, that's very . . . sweet . . . of you to say.

In any event, I was basically offline for several days as a result, and that made me rather tardy on blogging. Apologies.

In other news, as predicted, this week's episode of Doctor Who ("The Doctor's Wife," by Neil Gaiman) was way better than last week's. Nice creepiness, humor, and a poignant twist on classic Doctor Who mythology. Just what I would have expected from Gaiman.

It also addresses a timely issue: Even though the Doctor has been married before (and is a father; he's said so explicitly, and we met his granddaughter and first companion, Susan, who was the title character of Episode 1, "An Unearthly Child"), and regardless of what happens with River Song (strongly hinted to be his future wife), from the perspective of the series as a whole there is really one "character" who has an even greater title to the role of Doctor's wife. And thanks to Gaiman, he's now been properly introduced to her.

Now we've got the two-part "rebel flesh" story before we get back to River, the Silence, and the promised "game-changing" mid-season finale.

For those who have been paying attention to the clues about River Song's past (still in the Doctor's future), the title of the finale is ominous: "A Good Man Goes to War." I'm also anticipating that we're likely to return to the beach, this time with more information about who's inside the space suit. 

In episode 2.10 ("Grey Matters"), Walter asks Astrid to drive him back to the lab so he can hear an album by a band called Violet Sedan Chair (he says listening to it helps him come down from being high on Valium).

In episode 2.21 ("Northwest Passage"), Walter picks up the album–Seven Suns–as pictured here. We also get to hear part of one of the songs ("She's Doing Alright").

In episode 2.23 ("Over There, Part 2"), there is a deleted scene where Peter and Walternate are driving in a car and listening to another song from the album ("Hovercraft Mother"). They also discuss the meaning of the band's music in Peter's life and how the band is different in the alternate universe. Here's the scene:

In episode 3.10 ("The Firefly"), we meet Roscoe Joyce, the keyboardist and songwriter for Violet Sedan Chair.

Now let's put on our grey business suits and fedoras, shave off our hair and eyebrows, flash over to our universe (the real one), and go back in time to Observe an event occurring in April, 2009.

In this event, J.J. Abrams, creator of FRINGE, is guest-editing an issue of Wired magazine. One of the pieces in it is called Musical Mystery Tour: Messages Embedded in Your Favorite Album. It has a timeline of different albums with messages (easter eggs) embedded in them. One item in the timeline is this:

1971 The liner notes on Violet Sedan Chair's album Seven Suns list a missing 11th song, and the penultimate track is rumored to produce hallucinatory effects when played on multiple turntables.

The eleventh song on Seven Suns (according to the back cover of the album, same as held up by Walter in the picture, but here is a clearer version) is titled "Greenmana." The penultimate (next to last) track is titled "Re Fa Mi Si Sol La."

If you look on the album's back cover, you'll also see a circle with part of a piano keyboard in it, only it has an extra black key. This is the logo of Seven Suns' record company, 13th Tone Records.

On April 14, 2009, just few days after the Abrams issue of Wired came out, 13th Tone Records was trademarked.

Now let's flash forward in time to Observe an event in a record store in Seattle in early 2011. A human being named Kiki Kane makes a purchase. It is a copy of Seven Suns, published by 13th Tone in 1971. Like any record that old, it is worn and beaten.

Word spreads on the Internet that copies of Seven Suns are turning up in record stores around America. Some, after they are discovered, are sold on eBay.

FRINGE fans frantically search record stores for more copies.

HERE'S AN INTERESTING ACCOUNT BY A RECORD STORE EMPLOYEE.

Of course, the number of the vinyl records seeded in independent record stores is nowhere near enough to meet fan demand. Fortunately, you can now purchase your very own copy of Seven Suns in .mp3.

BUY IT HERE ON AMAZON. THEY'LL ALSO STORE IT FOR YOU FOR FREE IN THEIR NEWFANGLED "CLOUD DRIVE" SO YOU CAN ALWAYS DOWNLOAD IT AGAIN WHENEVER YOU WANT (E.G., WHEN YOU GET A NEW COMPUTER; YOU WON'T HAVE TO BUY IT AGAIN).

Rumor has it that there are buried clues in the album that relate to what's going to happen on the show. Maybe. If so, they aren't obvious in advance, so you don't have to worry about spoilers. (I have theories on which lyrics may be clues, but I'll save that for another time.) The album is thus safe for people who haven't yet seen season 3 (or 1 or 2 for that matter).

One word about the band's name. "Violet Sedan Chair" may sound more weird to our ears than it is. We typically think of a sedan and a chair as two different things. To us, a sedan is a type of car and a chair is … well … a chair. But this isn't just an arbitrary juxtaposition of nouns.

Historically a sedan chair (also just called a sedan) is what we sometimes think of as a litter–the kind of chair fancy people used to be carried around in so they wouldn't have to walk. Y'know, like this:

Those things used to be big business before taxis were invented, and they're where we get the name for the type of car.

So a violet sedan chair is just a violet one of those.

"Violet Sedan Chair" is also an anagram of "Olive Can Read This."

In any event, as said, you can now own Walter's favorite music. The songs are actually pretty authentic in terms of period sound (and subject matter), the tunes are catchy, and their lyrics are awesome in a cheesy way.

GET THE MUSIC!

My favorites are "Hovercraft Mother," "She's Doing Fine," "500 Years," and "Last Man In Space."

What are yours?

Here's a little Fringe speculation. For those who have not seen any of Season 3, waiting for it to come out on DVD/BlueRay, don't worry. This post won't spoil anything. It's just my putting together a few pieces from Seasons 1 and 2 and guessing at something that may be revealed at some point in the future.

So here goes . . . 

When we first meet Walter Bishop in the Pilot, he has been institutionalized since 1991. Olivia Dunham explains:

An assistant was killed in his lab. Rumors about Dr. Bishop using humans as guinea pigs. He was charged with manslaughter, but was deemed mentally unfit to stand trial.

We later learn more about both the charges Olivia mentions, the assistant who was killed in the lab and the experiments on humans.

In episode 1.12, The No-Brainer (the one where hands come out of computer screens and grab people's heads) a woman named Jessica Warren starts trying to see Walter. She first approaches Peter, who turns her away. After which Olivia says:

I think I know who that woman was… outside.

PETER: What do you think you know?

OLIVIA: That she's the mother of the lab assistant… that was killed in the fire here almost twenty years ago. It's none of my business.

When Jessica Warren finally gets to meet Walter, we learn:

My daughter's name was Carla Warren.

WALTER: Oh,dear.

JESSICA WARREN: Do you remember her?

WALTER: Yes.

JESSICA WARREN: I want to see you because… you were the last person to see my daughter alive, and…I've always wanted to ask… Was there anything else I could know? Anything,anything else…you could tell me about my daughter.

WALTER: She was… a wonderful girl. What I remember… is her smile. She had a wonderful smile.

WALTER: I miss Carla.

JESSICA WARREN: Me,too. I miss her.

(Walter embraces Jessica Warren.)

Okay, so the assistant's name was Carla Warren and she died in a fire in the lab and Walter was there when it happened (something we could probably have inferred from his being charged with manslaughter, anyway).

Now about fires in labs on Fringe.

In episode 1.17, Bad Dreams (the one where Olivia meets a fellow Cortexiphan kid who mentally forces people to stand along the edge of a building's roof with him, with the threat of making them jump), we get the following exchange:

WALTER: Where’s the fire? I always loved that expression, which is curious, since my lab assistant was killed in a fire.

OLIVIA: What can you tell me about Cortexiphan?

WALTER: Oh, that takes me back. I remember 'Belly' whipping up a peyote mash–

OLIVIA: Walter!

WALTER: Cortexiphan was a highly experimental drug. William theorized that it might enhance certain abilities in predisposed children.

PETER: Let me guess– you experimented on people.

WALTER: Oh, no, no. not me. William. We had quite a disagreement about it.

OLIVIA: What abilities?

WALTER: It worked on perception. Carlos Castaneda, Aldus Huxley, Werner Heisenberg, all focused on one single elementary truth. Perception is the key to transformation.

PETER: Reality is both subjective and malleable. If you can dream a better world, you can make a better world.

WALTER: Or perhaps travel between them.

PETER: What did you just say?

OLIVIA: So if Nick Lane was treated with Cortexiphan, he could change reality with his thoughts. He could make somebody do something just by thinking it.

WALTER: Not his thoughts. It’s how you feel that determines your view of the world.

OLIVIA: You’re saying that Cortexiphan worked on feelings.

WALTER: That’s reductive, but essentially, yes.

Olivia then figures out that she also was subjected to a Cortexiphan trial. At the end of the episode:

(rummaging through a storage box, Walter finds some old cassette tapes and starts watching one. haunted by what he sees and hears – a small blonde child sits huddled on the floor while voices dialogue from off the screen)

WILLIAM BELL: Is the incident contained?

FEMALE VOICE: Yes, Doctor Bell.

WILLIAM BELL: How bad?

FEMALE VOICE: Bad.

WILLIAM BELL: Casualties?

FEMALE VOICE: Not sure yet. We can't locate Brenner.

WILLIAM BELL: Is SHE okay?

FEMALE VOICE: SHE is fine.

WILLIAM BELL: Hell, do we know what triggered it?

WALTER: Obviously she was upset, William. (to the child) It's okay. It's alright now. Nobody is angry with you. You didn't do anything bad. It's alright Olive… everythings going to be okay.

(Walter sits silently, alone in the dark lab and stares at the screen)

The transcript doesn't say it, but Olive (Olivia) is huddled in a small, unburned corner of a room which has apparently been subjected to intense fire as part of the "incident" William Bell refers to.

This is confirmed in episode 2.15, Jacksonville (the one where Olivia revisits the day care center where she was experimented upon), where Olivia gets to watch the same video tape and recognizes herself:

OLIVIA: That's me. What happened?

WALTER: This was the first time you saw the other side. You were frightened. Started a fire with your mind. It should have worked. This is the very sort of thing that William and I were preparing for.

Olivia also indicates that she has no memory of the Jacksonville experiments:

I have a freakishly good memory. I remember everything. But not this. There's just nothing that's familiar.

PETER: Maybe that's a good thing.

And earlier in the ep, Walter also commented on her not remembering her Cortexiphan-produced abilities:

OLIVIA: Walter, when did I see things from the other side?

WALTER: Twenty-six years ago when you were a little girl. The Cortexiphan Trials. As I've said, the drug worked on perception. Of the thirty children that William Bell and I experimented on, you were the first with the ability to identify things from the other side. We gave you the ability.

PETER: Walter, you were conducting illegal drug trials on children. Don't make that sound like charity work.

OLIVIA: Was it me who described it as a glimmer? Well, I can't see it anymore.

WALTER: Because I believe you stopped wanting to. When you did, there were consequences, but I was able to elicit the ability once. I believe I may be able to do it again.

So Walter's lab assistant, Carla Warren, died in 1991 in a laboratory fire and Walter was there.

Olivia, who would have been around 12 in 1991, was given Cortexiphan as a child and, among other things, occasionally started fires with her mind (pyrokinesis) when frightened or upset. However, there were "consequences" to her use of the Coretexiphan abilities, and she decided she didn't want them any more–and today has no memory of the experiments.

What's the dramatically obvious way to connect these facts up?

The very next episode, 2.16, Peter, is the one in which we get a flashback to 1985, when Peter was a boy–and we get to meet Carla Warren for the first time, six years before her death in the lab fire.

My guess is that, at some point in the future, we will have a flashback episode to 1991, when Olive is 12, and the experiments have been relocated from Jacksonville, Florida to Harvard, where the lab fire occurred.

Something momentous will be at stake (very possibly with Observer involvement). Walter and Olive and Carla will be in the lab. Something horrible will happen, pushing Olive over the edge and triggering her pyrokinetic abilities. Carla (who was likely trying to stop Walter from doing something, possibly to Olive) will die. 

Olivia and Walter live, but both will be shattered. Olive will either repress all memory of the Cortexiphan trials or someone (possibly William Bell) will cause them to go dormant.

Walter will have either just had William Bell perform the operation to remove bits from his brain or he will have it immediately after this event, as it is what frightened him of what he was becoming.

In any event, the aftermath of the event will find him mentally and emotionally shattered and he will be committed to St. Claire's for the next 17 years.

Until Olivia Dunhman walks into St. Claire's and recruits him to help solve the case in the Pilot episode.

Now, there are other ways this could work. Other Cortexiphan kids have been shown to have pyrokinesis, but c'mon! This is the obvious, dramatically satisfying way to do it.

How did Carla Warren die?

My money is that it was Olivia. In the lab. With the pyrokinesis.