Even if you're a massive science fiction fan, there are probably still some great shows you've yet to discover. But for massively long-running shows, where to begin? Here's our guide to how to start watching twenty classic science fiction shows.It should be pointed out that this guide is meant for potential new fans, not people who already love these shows. We advise in quite a few instances to skip entire seasons of shows, and that's not something a big fan of a show is likely to agree with. But this is all about the best way to get hooked on a show, and we of course recommend checking out the rest of a series once you've sampled the best of what a show has to offer. We're also focusing more on seasons of shows than specific brilliant episodes, because it's easier to reach consensus - and thus make useful recommendations to the most people - on an entire season than one particular episode. So, let's start with the biggest, most daunting science fiction franchise of them all... Star Trek: The Original Series Since it only ran three seasons, the easy answer is just to tell you to watch all of it. Unfortunately, the third season has a whole lot of badness in it, which is the result of slashed budgets and the influence of new producer Fred Freiberger. (He also presided over the similarly derided second season of Space: 1999.) There are a few decent episodes in there - "The Tholian Web" is probably the best of the bunch - but most of the classics are to be found in the first two seasons, and almost all the notoriously awful episodes ("Plato's Stepchildren", "Spock's Brain") are season three entries. So just stick with seasons 1 and 2, then head into season 3 with extreme caution.

Star Trek: The Next Generation This one is fairly straightforward - start with season three. The show hit some real lows in its first season, and anybody unsure about whether they like TNG is unlikely to get past the first dozen or so episodes. The second season, while a bit of an improvement, is missing one of the show's main cast members, as Gates McFadden's Dr. Crusher was replaced by Diana Muldaur's Dr. Pulaski. There's a lot to like about the second season (and Pulaski is hardly a total disaster), but everything clicks into place with the third season. That season has the added benefit of ending on what may be the biggest cliffhanger in television history. If that doesn't have you coming back for more, nothing will.

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Deep Space Nine was a far more arc-driven show than The Next Generation, so there's slightly more to be gained with starting at the beginning and putting up with the show's growing pains (which, to be fair, were never as bad as TNG's). Still, there's a fairly clear division in arcs between the first two seasons, which is more heavily focused on the Bajoran/Cardassian conflict, and the third season onwards, which focuses on the coming war with the Dominion. As such, for those on the fence about DS9, we suggest jumping in with season three.

Star Trek: Voyager There's really no sense in pretending otherwise - Voyager isn't really all that good of a show, and if you're going to dive into nineties Star Trek, I'd head to TNG and DS9 first. Still, the show has its charms, and it did get better as it went along. I'd jump right to the last episode of season 3, the first half of the "Scorpion" two-parter. "Scorpion" is consistently voted the series's best episode, and it also introduces the half-human, half-Borg, all-sexy Seven of Nine, who is pretty much the one iconic thing to come out of this show. Most of the show's best episodes come in the fourth season onwards, and you get to avoid the only Star Trek episode so bad that everyone involved disowned it. (Although, depending on your mindset, that might actually be just the sort of thing you want to check out.)

Star Trek: Enterprise When it comes to latter-day Star Trek, there's just something special about seasons 3 and 4, because that's where I'd suggest you start with for Enterprise as well. The prequel series took a while to find its feet, spinning its wheels for two seasons with a lot of not terribly interesting stuff about a new alien race called the Suliban and a far future conflict known as the Temporal Cold War. The show was retooled at the end of both the second and third season, and both were arguably improvements. The third season ditched the Suliban as the Enterprise headed into the war-torn region of space known as the Expanse, in the hopes of either stopping the coming war...or winning it. The fourth season went with less long-form storytelling in favor of shorter, more contained arcs, which again produced a bunch of standout episodes. Although do yourself a favor - unless you absolutely love Enterprise, skip the series finale. Actually, if you absolutely love Enterprise, that's even more reason not to watch it.

Doctor Who We're only going to talk about the new series, because a guide to getting into the classic series is an article in and of itself. (And here it is! Although I will say that "Robots of Death" is pretty much the perfect introduction to classic Who.) The best way to approach the new Doctor Who largely depends on what you want to get out of it. If you just want to get up to speed for the upcoming series, then I'd just watch the fifth season, plus "Silence in the Library"/"The Forest of the Dead" and maybe "Blink". That'll get you pretty much up to speed on the Steven Moffat & Matt Smith era. If you're looking for a more general introduction, then I'd suggest starting with either the first or fourth season. The show definitely improves as it goes along, but the initial season, starring Christopher Eccleston, season has its own unique energy that's still a lot of fun to watch, and it's a good place to start (although the second season hasn't aged very well). The fourth season presents a great mix of stories without any real duds...well, until you get to the final two episodes. Those should be approached with extreme caution. Finally, if all you want to do is sample the best (and biggest) of the new series to see if you like it, then here's the quick list: "Rose", "Dalek", anything by Steven Moffat and Paul Cornell, "The Impossible Planet"/"The Satan Pit", "Midnight", "The Waters of Mars", and, for better or worse, the five season finales.

Torchwood But what of Doctor Who's anagrammatic spin-off? The first two seasons aren't a complete waste of time, but they're dangerously close, and even the best episodes (probably "Captain Jack Harkness" and "Fragments") are some degree of flawed or derivative. So unless your tolerance for nonsensical plots, general silliness, and lots of sex and angst masquerading as mature storytelling is epically high, I'd skip the first two seasons completely and head straight for the brilliant, brutal Children of Earth. The mini-series might represent the greatest jump up in quality from one season to the next in television history, and it's Russell T. Davies at his nastiest and most pessimistic - which, as he also showed in the Doctor Who episode "Midnight", also happens to be Davies at his absolute best.

Red Dwarf While we're on the topic of British science fiction, let's talk about what is (pretty much by default) the best live-action science fiction comedy ever, Red Dwarf. I learned this the hard way when I tried to introduce a friend to Red Dwarf by showing him an episode from each of the six seasons: unless you fall instantly in love with the show, the first two seasons are very hit-and-miss. The show picks up considerably with season three, and it more or less keeps up the quality until the end of season six, when the original writing team parted ways and the show started to run out of ideas. So start with season three, save the first two seasons for later, and only head into the post-sixth season material if you really, really want more Red Dwarf.

The Prisoner The show only ran for seventeen episodes, so how hard can it be to start watching? The difficulty isn't the number of episodes, it's the order in which you should watch them. There are at least four different preferred orders in which you can watch The Prisoner, and the show's already challenging enough without have to figure out which episodes goes where. The fact of the matter is, although I think the so-called Six of One Order is probably the best, it doesn't really matter. Just watch "Arrival" first and "Once Upon a Time" and "Fall Out" last, and you'll be fine. Oh, and you can skip "Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling." I'd say the same about "The Girl Who Was Death", but that one is just too stupidly fun to ignore.

The Twilight Zone Rod Serling's legendary anthology series represents a particular challenge for potential new fans. There are 156 episodes, and nothing connecting any of them apart from Serling's iconic narration. Although the seasons have all been released on DVD - the first two are mostly brilliant, the third and fourth are a mixed bag, and the fifth is more bad than good - an entire season isn't really the best jumping-on point. I'd suggest seeking out some of the old "Best Of" DVDs they put out a few years ago. There are a few particularly brilliant showcases of the Twilight Zone format: "Walking Distance", "Time Enough at Last", "The Monsters are Due on Maple Street", "The Eye of the Beholder", "The Odyssey of Flight 33", and "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" (starring William Shatner!) are all excellent places to enter The Twilight Zone.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 MST3K presents the same basic problem as The Twilight Zone. There are very few episodes that aren't at least mildly amusing, and the vast majority of episodes are hilarious. So where do you start? There's no point in going in any particular order - the show has barely any continuity, and it's all the better for it - so it's just a question of finding the right introductory movie. Some of the show's most famous episodes, like "Manos: The Hands of Fate" and the Coleman Francis magnum opus "Red Zone Cuba", aren't the best places to start because the movies being riffed on are just too horrendously boring. It's better to start with movies that, while equally awful, are a bit more exciting, like "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians", "Space Mutiny", "Mitchell", "Time Chasers", or "Eegah", and then move on to the exquisite tedium that is "Manos: The Hands of Fate."

The X-Files The X-Files is a good example of a show that, if you're going to start watching it now, it's probably wise to not get too invested in it, because it's all going to end in frustration. (Lost is another obvious example.) The show gets off to a good start in its first season, and it keeps up a consistently high quality for roughly its first six seasons, including the first movie. But the show starts running out of steam in the seventh season, and by the time Mulder has left the show in the eighth and ninth season the show is a pale shadow of its former self. Worst of all, the show's central mystery has never really been fully resolved, and it most likely never will. So definitely enjoy the first six seasons of The X-Files as nineties science fiction - hell, nineties television in general - at its finest. Just be prepared to have more questions than answers when it's all over.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer This one is a bit tough, because there's no obvious consensus as to which seasons were the best, and there's even less consensus as to which season is the worst. Still, it's probably safe to say that season 1 can be left for later, and the second season is a good place to start. The show had worked through a lot of its first season growing pains, and the second season sets up a lot of the characters and arcs that would endure for the rest of the show's run. If you want to skip ahead to the even stronger third season, I don't have a problem with that. (Particularly because the bad guy is Mayor Wilkins! How cool is that... for me!?) As for when to stop watching... well, some people hate the later seasons, which had less direct involvement from Joss Whedon, and some think they're the best of the bunch. So this is probably one of those rare times to just bust out the pragmatism and keep watching until you no longer enjoy it.

Angel Do yourself a favor - skip the first two seasons of Angel. A very worthwhile show eventually emerged, but it took a while for that to happen, and you're not missing anything if you just skip right ahead to the third season. Seriously, what is it about science fiction shows getting really good in their third seasons? If this is actually a general rule of science fiction, I'm a little scared to imagine how good Firefly would have gotten if it had survived another couple of years. I think we can safely assume it would have won multiple Nobel Prizes for Literature... and Chemistry, just for the hell of it.

Dollhouse For Joss Whedon's shorter-lived shows, the temptation is to say you should just watch them all. For Firefly, that's pretty much the case (although "Shindig" and "Safe" aren't that great), but Dollhouse definitely has some eminently skippable episodes. The first five episodes are all fairly inessential, the result of - this will come as a shock - meddling on the part of Fox executives, who wanted the show to be more episodic and less serialized. There's an argument that it's worth watching the first episode "Ghost", which helps introduce this strange new world, but the sixth episode "Man on the Street" rehashes most of the essential points anyway. After that, all the rest of the episodes are more or less essential. (It's also worth watching the unaired pilot, which is included as a DVD extra and covers a lot of the same ground as the first half-dozen episodes.)

Babylon 5 Series creator J. Michael Straczynski always intended the show to be one big story told over five seasons - unfortunately, it didn't quite work out that way. When the creative team thought the show would be canceled at the end of the fourth season, they condensed the final two seasons worth of story into one... and then they got a fifth season anyway, forcing them to come up with new stories from scratch. So, although all of the first four seasons are essential to the show's overall arc, it's only in the second season that the ongoing story picks up and the show really starts cooking. (In fact, there's an argument to be made that you'll get more out of the first season if you come back to it after seeing the later seasons, the better to appreciate the more subtle groundwork Straczynski and company put in.) The fifth season has its critics and isn't quite up to the standard of what came before, but it's also worth checking out.

Highlander: The Series Although the original movie is more stupidly enjoyable than legitimately good, the TV series it spawned enjoys a relatively solid critical reputation. Like a lot of shows on this list, its first season is a bit shaky, but the second season is definitely well worth watching, and the next few seasons are also a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the show goes over a cliff in its sixth and final season, so that one can be safely left alone.

Battlestar Galactica When we're talking about shows with an overarching mystery and complex mythology, it's difficult to say if it's better to just start at the beginning or jump on when the show actually got good. Thankfully, the 21st century BSG removes that conundrum completely, because the first episode of the series proper, "33", is quite possibly the show's best episode. Indeed, the first three seasons are all consistently very strong, and I actually don't think there's much of a dip in the fourth season either. (That point is...debated.) So, unless you really don't think you can commit three hours to something you've seen before, just start with the mini-series and go from there. Although do yourself a favor and skip "Black Market" and "The Woman King" when you get to them. Anything worth knowing from those will be in the next episodes' recaps.

Lost It's hard to imagine who would want to start watching this show right now, particularly after all the rancor over the series finale. Still, if you are looking to get into Lost, the show is so heavily serialized that it really only makes sense to start with the first season. That said, the show had a tendency to spin its wheels and go nowhere slowly, particularly in the second season. If a season becomes too much of a drag, you might want to skip ahead to the next season and restart - just be prepared for a lot of googling to figure out what the hell's going on. (Another trick is to track down those special recap episodes Lost would air before some of its seasons.)

The Stargate Franchise Let's finish off with a look at the three Stargate shows. Of these, the original SG-1 is the most difficult to get into, considering it ran a colossal ten seasons. The first season is a bit bumpy, like a lot of the other shows on this list, and it starts to show its age in the ninth and tenth seasons. We'd recommend the second through eighth seasons, with seasons three and four as particularly strong. As for Atlantis, our resident Stargate expert Meredith Woerner recommends anything spotlighting Rodney McKay (but then...she would). The show was fairly consistent in quality throughout its five-season run, so you can just start at the beginning. Finally, Stargate Universe is still just starting out, so we can recommend particular episodes to get you hooked: "Lost" and "Time" are two of the show's strongest episodes, and should help you decide, one way or the other, if Universe is a show for you.

Syfy is bringing you the backstory to Peter Pan in a four-hour miniseries called Neverland. We're not so sure how to feel about this one. We like who's involved, but the last few Syfy miniseries have been Riverworld-level bad.The series is directed and written by Nick Willing, who is known for his work on Tin Man and Alice, two Syfy original features we really enjoyed. The project is slated for release in 2011, and it's nabbed Notting Hill's Rhys Ifans. So it would seem that it's set up to do well, it would seem. Here's the synopsis:

Raised on the streets of turn-of-the century London, orphaned Peter (Rowe) and his pals survive by their fearless wits as cunning young pickpockets. Now, they've been rounded up by their mentor Jimmy Hook (Ifans) to snatch a priceless—some believe, magical—treasure which transports them to another world. Neverland is a realm of white jungles and legendary mysteries of eternal youth, where unknown friends and enemies snatched from time welcome the new travelers with both excitement and trepidation. These groups include a band of 18th century pirates led by the power-mad Elizabeth Bonny (Friel), and the Native American Kaw tribe led by a Holy Man (Trujillo), which has protected the secret of the tree spirits from Bonny and her gang for ages—and that has meant war. But as the fight to save this strange and beautiful world becomes vital, Hook, Peter, and the ragamuffin lost boys consider that growing old somewhere in time could be less important than growing up—right here in their new home called Neverland.

[via Examiner] Top image by James Coleman.

Syfy is bringing you the backstory to Peter Pan in a four-hour miniseries called Neverland. We're not so sure how to feel about this one. We like who's involved, but the last few Syfy miniseries have been Riverworld-level bad.The series is directed and written by Nick Willing, who is known for his work on Tin Man and Alice, two Syfy original features we really enjoyed. The project is slated for release in 2011, and it's nabbed Notting Hill's Rhys Ifans. So it would seem that it's set up to do well, it would seem. Here's the synopsis:

Raised on the streets of turn-of-the century London, orphaned Peter (Rowe) and his pals survive by their fearless wits as cunning young pickpockets. Now, they've been rounded up by their mentor Jimmy Hook (Ifans) to snatch a priceless—some believe, magical—treasure which transports them to another world. Neverland is a realm of white jungles and legendary mysteries of eternal youth, where unknown friends and enemies snatched from time welcome the new travelers with both excitement and trepidation. These groups include a band of 18th century pirates led by the power-mad Elizabeth Bonny (Friel), and the Native American Kaw tribe led by a Holy Man (Trujillo), which has protected the secret of the tree spirits from Bonny and her gang for ages—and that has meant war. But as the fight to save this strange and beautiful world becomes vital, Hook, Peter, and the ragamuffin lost boys consider that growing old somewhere in time could be less important than growing up—right here in their new home called Neverland.

[via Examiner] Top image by James Coleman.

Ronald D. Moore's Battlestar Galactica juggled heavy duty space opera and fantastical, magic elements. But his next project will leave space behind, in favor of a world of pure magic, in the vein of Harry Potter for adults. According to Deadline, Moore's new project is "described as an adult Harry Potter set in a world ruled not by science but by magic," and he's making it for NBC. And Sony, which signed a development deal with Moore back in May, is pretty serious about moving forward with this — there are nearly $2 million in "pilot and series penalties," meaning Sony has to pay up to $2 million if the show doesn't film both a pilot and an ongoing series. The other interesting thing is that the article mentions that Sony's Charlie's Angels remake, spearheaded by Smallville creators Miles Millar and Alfred Gough, is still very much in the pipeline and the studio is serious about developing more dramas. At one point, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles showrunner Josh Friedman was said to be heavily involved in the Charlie's Angels reboot. [Deadline]

Ronald D. Moore's Battlestar Galactica juggled heavy duty space opera and fantastical, magic elements. But his next project will leave space behind, in favor of a world of pure magic, in the vein of Harry Potter for adults. According to Deadline, Moore's new project is "described as an adult Harry Potter set in a world ruled not by science but by magic," and he's making it for NBC. And Sony, which signed a development deal with Moore back in May, is pretty serious about moving forward with this — there are nearly $2 million in "pilot and series penalties," meaning Sony has to pay up to $2 million if the show doesn't film both a pilot and an ongoing series. The other interesting thing is that the article mentions that Sony's Charlie's Angels remake, spearheaded by Smallville creators Miles Millar and Alfred Gough, is still very much in the pipeline and the studio is serious about developing more dramas. At one point, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles showrunner Josh Friedman was said to be heavily involved in the Charlie's Angels reboot. [Deadline]

Absolutely bloody brilliant! The third and final episode of Sherlock was the best of the series.  The first episode was excellent and the second okay, but this one didn’t put a foot wrong for the entire 90 minutes. I have to admit I had my doubts going in. Mark Gatiss recent Doctor Who episode hadn’t  impressed me much and Steven Moffat is rarely out-written. On top of which I was very dubious about the wisdom of introducing Moriarity so early in the series existence. I’m pleased to say that I was wrong on all counts though. Gatiss penned the most authentic Sherlock Holmes episode I have ever seen even if it was set in the present day. It captured everything from the characters to the atmosphere perfectly. I can even forgive him for that cliffhanger. As in the last two episodes Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman make an excellent Holmes and Watson. Their interaction is much more convincing than that of the recent movie. It was nice to see the rest of the supporting cast return as well since they add a lot of depth to the world of Sherlock Holmes. It’s hard to develop a story arc in a 3 episode season and the Moriarty plot seemed ham handedly forced onto the end of the last two stories, but here it fit in perfectly.  Andrew Scott gives us a wonderfully insane Moriarty and one that feels like a genuine threat to Sherlock. Throughout the episode we are shown that Moriarty is really a dark reflection of Sherlock. Moriarty is what we were warned that Sherlock could become in the first episode.  Sherlock’s enjoyment of the “games” that Moriarty makes him play is obvious and his casual manipulation of people and their emotions is unsettling. And yet there is a difference. While Moriarty revels in his own brilliance and the chaos he causes, Sherlock does seem to follow some sort of moral code and clearly has a strong tendency towards order. There’s really nothing bad I can say about this episode and I am already waiting impatiently for it to return for the promised second season. Related articles by Zemanta

Updated Sherlock ‘will be back’ (bbc.co.uk) Sherlock to return for second series (guardian.co.uk) Sherlock finale: your verdict on The Great Game (guardian.co.uk) The mysterious case of the unknown Moriarty: how Sherlock Holmes will reveal all (guardian.co.uk)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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I reviewed Warehouse 13′s crossover episode earlier and now it’s time for Eureka. Not surprisingly the aptly named Crossing Over uses the same two characters as the focal point of the titular crossover. And why not, they’ve developed a nice chemistry together. As I mentioned in the previous review these two shows have a similar feel to them and once again there was more emphasis on humor than on any deep plot. Unlike Warehouse 13 however, Eureka didn’t give us a stand alone episode. This was deeply rooted in the ongoing time change storyline that Eureka is playing out.  There was a handy recap at the beginning of the episode, but I wonder if new viewers (the usual reason for a crossover) might be a little confused? I’ve been really enjoying this season’s story arc because it forces familiar characters to face unfamiliar situations and the same is true here, particularly where Henry (Joe Morton) has to find a way to interact more naturally with his “new” wife. I also like the less combative relationship between Jo Lupo (Erica Cerra) and Sherrif Carter (Colin Ferguson). On the other hand I’m getting really tired of endlessly simmering romance between Allison and Carter.  It just feels worn out. When reviewing Warehouse 13, I mentioned that there wasn’t much sense of threat in the episode because only the main cast were at risk. In essence we had the same situation here, but Eureka has killed off a cast member before and is downright ruthless with its recurring characters. So there was a feeling that  Trevor Grant (James Callis) could conceivably die, even if it was unlikely. This isn’t a game changing episode for Eureka, it’s really more of the same. But that same is an entertaining mixture of tension, character and quips. It’s a great way to relax after a hard day’s work. Fun without requiring too much effort on my part. Related articles by Zemanta

Eureka 4.05: “Crossing Over” (pinkbananaworld.com) ‘Eureka’ – ‘Crossing Over’ Recap (tvsquad.com) “Eureka Review: “Crossing Over”" and related posts (tvfanatic.com) “The Ultimate Syfy Crossover: ‘Warehouse 13′ Meets ‘Eureka’ This Week” and related posts (scifipulse.net)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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BBC's new show Outcasts series seems to be combining all the things we love the most: drama, planetary colonists, criminals and space Westerns. The first pictures have been released — check out space adventurers Jamie Bamber and Eric Mabius. The show was created by Ben Richards and focuses on the devastation that hits a future Earth, and those who leave our planet to start a new colony. Here's a very long, but wonderfully detailed description of the series from the BBC .

With Earth no longer habitable, a group of courageous pioneers have traveled to another planet to begin again. They've built the town of Forthaven on Carpathia and have the unique opportunity of creating a new and better future on another planet. Led by President Tate (Liam Cunningham via Clash Of The Titans) and his core team of Stella (Hermione Norris, MI-5), Cass (Daniel Mays, Atonement) and Fleur (Amy Manson, Being Human), they're determined to run the civilization in a democratic way, but some tough decisions in the past may prove divisive. As the series begins, it's a moment of incredible anticipation. Forthaven has lost all contact with Earth but the arrival of the last known transporter, with Julius Berger (Eric Mabius of Ugly Betty) on board, signals fresh hopes and dreams. But why does President Tate seem anxious about the imminent arrival of Berger and will the transporter land safely with Stella's husband and daughter, who she heartbreakingly left behind? Meanwhile those appointed Expeditionaries, Mitchell (Jamie Bamber, Battlestar Galactica) and Jack (Ashley Walters, Hustle), have a mission to explore the new planet and bring back vital information to the settlement. Will they find other life out there, or do they truly have the planet to themselves? The settlers are a diverse group of individuals who left their old lives behind in extraordinary circumstances. They've been promised a second chance but are far away from home, friends, family and their pasts. Passionate about their jobs, confident of their ideals and optimistic about the future, they work hard to preserve what they've built on the planet they now call home. Carpathia offers the possibility of redemption as the new inhabitants try to avoid the mistakes made on Earth. Inevitably they cannot escape the human pitfalls of love, greed, lust, loss, corruption and a longing for those they've left behind. As they continue to work and live together, they come to realize this is no ordinary planet. Is there a bigger purpose at work? Is the peace of Forthaven more fragile than they think?

Outcasts will air on BBC America in December.

BBC's new show Outcasts series seems to be combining all the things we love the most: drama, planetary colonists, criminals and space Westerns. The first pictures have been released — check out space adventurers Jamie Bamber and Eric Mabius. The show was created by Ben Richards and focuses on the devastation that hits a future Earth, and those who leave our planet to start a new colony. Here's a very long, but wonderfully detailed description of the series from the BBC .

With Earth no longer habitable, a group of courageous pioneers have traveled to another planet to begin again. They've built the town of Forthaven on Carpathia and have the unique opportunity of creating a new and better future on another planet. Led by President Tate (Liam Cunningham via Clash Of The Titans) and his core team of Stella (Hermione Norris, MI-5), Cass (Daniel Mays, Atonement) and Fleur (Amy Manson, Being Human), they're determined to run the civilization in a democratic way, but some tough decisions in the past may prove divisive. As the series begins, it's a moment of incredible anticipation. Forthaven has lost all contact with Earth but the arrival of the last known transporter, with Julius Berger (Eric Mabius of Ugly Betty) on board, signals fresh hopes and dreams. But why does President Tate seem anxious about the imminent arrival of Berger and will the transporter land safely with Stella's husband and daughter, who she heartbreakingly left behind? Meanwhile those appointed Expeditionaries, Mitchell (Jamie Bamber, Battlestar Galactica) and Jack (Ashley Walters, Hustle), have a mission to explore the new planet and bring back vital information to the settlement. Will they find other life out there, or do they truly have the planet to themselves? The settlers are a diverse group of individuals who left their old lives behind in extraordinary circumstances. They've been promised a second chance but are far away from home, friends, family and their pasts. Passionate about their jobs, confident of their ideals and optimistic about the future, they work hard to preserve what they've built on the planet they now call home. Carpathia offers the possibility of redemption as the new inhabitants try to avoid the mistakes made on Earth. Inevitably they cannot escape the human pitfalls of love, greed, lust, loss, corruption and a longing for those they've left behind. As they continue to work and live together, they come to realize this is no ordinary planet. Is there a bigger purpose at work? Is the peace of Forthaven more fragile than they think?

Outcasts will air on BBC America in December.

Warehouse 13 and Eureka are two of the SyFy Channel’s hottest shows, so it makes sense to cross them over right? Well it certainly does to the marketing department anyway. But does it make for a good episode? Actually yes it does. Fortunately both Eureka and Warehouse 13 have a lot in common stylistically. While  Eureka is science based and Warehouse 13 has more fantasy elements, the shows feel similar and mesh quite well. The writers also wisely limited the nature of the crossover to one character, Douglas Fargo. Primarily a comedic character, he slipped right in to the series as though he belonged and his interactions with Artie and Claudia was spot on. But the episode didn’t rely on the stunt crossover for its entertainment value. Hugo and Hugo 1 (played by Rene Auberjonois) touched on a recurring theme in Warehouse 13, namely what seems to happen to all the warehouse agents.  That ominous note  is needed because there isn’t really much of a sense of jeopardy in this episode. Since the only characters at risk are series regulars it’s hard to feel that they’re actually in any danger. Usually there’s at least a guest character to worry about. But that’s a fact that really only came to my attention after the show was over. While I was watching the episode I was too busy try to catch all the geek movie and tv references or enjoying the banter between the cast members. Though I couldn’t help but notice that Myka and Pete are being made out to be stunningly incompetent agents this season. I know it kept the plot moving, but it was lazy writing and it’s not the first time it’s happened this year. But Warehouse 13 has never been challenging viewing. It is after all intended to be a fun show more than anything else. So perhaps I shouldn’t criticize this episode too heavily for being what it is. Related articles by Zemanta

‘Warehouse 13′ – ’13.1′ Recap (tvsquad.com) “Eureka Review: “Crossing Over”" and related posts (tvfanatic.com) Warehouse 13 2.05: “13.1? (pinkbananaworld.com) Warehouse 13 elevates nerd candy to the level of greatness [Tv Recap] (io9.com) Allison Scagliotti, Neil Grayston: Sparks fly in ‘Warehouse 13′-’Eureka’ crossover (chicagonow.com)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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I heaped glowing praise on the first episode of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ re-imagining of Sherlock Holmes. So what do I think of the second episode, The Blind Banker?

Well, sad to say it isn’t as good as the first episode.  It just lacked some of the spark.  That’s not to say it was bad, because there were still a lot of strong points in the show. Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman remain pitch perfect in their respective roles as Sherlock Holmes and Watson. They make the most of their scenes and the character material they are given to work with. Similarly Euros Lynn (perhaps the best of Russel T. Davies Doctor Who directors)  has picked up on many of the visual cues from the first episode and delivered something that while not identical was stylistically similar. The problems with this episode all lie squarely in Stephen Thompson’s script.  While he does seem to have a firm grasp on the characters and his plot was certainly full of puzzles, it failed to compel in the way that a Study in Pink did. To make matters worse, some elements seemed outright cliched. Really, Chinese smugglers and a Chinese circus troop? And there seemed to be a few places where the logic just didn’t add up at all. On top of that we have the frankly baffling decision to omit almost all of the secondary characters established in the first episode and in their place have one almost characterless detective. Perhaps that was a budgetary decision or based on the availability of actors, but it definitely hurt the show. But for all my negativity, in truth I still enjoyed The Blind Banker because the relationship between Holmes and Watson (still clearly in its early stages here) is so compelling. Throwing in a romantic interest for Watson was a nice touch too although I’m not clear if the intent is for her to be a recurring character. As far as the series story-arc is concerned I’m going to hold my tongue until I’ve seen the final episode. I have a fairly strong opinion on it and how it has been handled so far, but it would be unfair to judge without seeing the end. Bottom line then is that The Blind Banker is a fun, but not great episode of Sherlock.  I’m hoping that Mark Gatiss’ episode next week will step things up again. Related articles by Zemanta

Why I’m no fan of Sherlock (newstatesman.com) TV review: Sherlock (guardian.co.uk) “The Game Is Afoot”: Modern Day Sherlock (pinkbananaworld.com) TV Review: Sherlock – The 2010 Super Sleuth (blogcritics.org) Culture Club: Sherlock, Sunday, BBC1 (independent.co.uk) Sherlock, BBC One, review (telegraph.co.uk) Sherlock makes Sunday night TV sexy (guardian.co.uk)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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Blake's 7 was quite possibly the most quotable space opera of all time, and a major influence on shows like Babylon 5. Too bad it won't be coming back to our screens any time soon. The attempt to revive Blake's 7 has hit yet another setback, the latest in a long line. At one point a decade ago, the show was going to come back with Paul Darrow returning as the cynical computer wizard Avon, training a new generation of freedom fighters. More recently, there's been talk of a reboot or remake, which would have aired on Sky One. But yesterday, this announcement went up on the official Blake's 7 website:

SKY deciding to not proceed with the planned TV revival of BLAKE'S 7 is obviously disappointing, but the development process has resulted in the dynamic reinvention of this ‘branded' series. As SKY were the minority broadcaster, there is a huge opportunity for investment in a TV series that is fully developed, has genuine global appeal and has exciting 360 degree exploitation opportunities. With much praised scripts from lead writers Richard Kurti and Bev Doyle (Going Postal) and 60% of the finance already in place, by anyone's standard we have pulled together a compelling package. We are confident that this reboot of BLAKE'S 7 has the creative and commercial credentials that will enable us to find a partner with the vision to recognise the strength and enduring appeal of the show and the opportunity it represents to produce a bold new drama series with significant international appeal.

In other words, don't hold your breath. It's too bad, although I'm not sure if I could have stood for another Prisoner-style revamp of a classic series. Blake's 7 is best described as Star Trek turned on its head: the galactic Federation is evil, and only a small crew of political dissidents and ruthless criminals stands to oppose it. The show was brutal, dark and frequently hilarious. [Thanks Andy!]

After 3 very strong episodes Eureka tosses out a throw away one.  The Story of O2 could have happened in just about any season of Eureka. There are a few mentions of the changed reality, but they are mainly extraneous to both the A and B plots of the episode. They even came close to reverting Zane back to his pre-time travel personality. If that wasn’t bad enough, this week’s “celebrity” cameo is Jamie Kennedy playing his usual highly annoying comedy character. Considering the scientist he played had a minimal role in the entire episode, his presence was a grating distraction. It wasn’t all bad mind you. It was nice to see Zoe Carter (Jordan Hinson) put in an appearance. I’m not really sure what her function in the show is, but it’s annoying when characters vanish and are never referenced again.  The invisible cat sub-plot was pure filler though. I did like seeing Fargo (Neil Grayston) trying to function in his new (to him) role as chief of GD. In previous seasons he was almost entirely a comedy character and that’s still his primary function, but his position forces the character to mature a little which is good to watch. Interesting to see that they have re-cast Deputy Andy. I’m not sure what the real life reasoning for this was, but I guess it’s going to be a recurring joke with him being damaged and re-skinned on a regular basis. It’s  funny, but the original actor was very good in the role. If this review seems particularly half hearted it’s because I just didn’t care much about this episode. Lots of soap opera, Allison (Salli Richardson-Whitfield) behaving completely out of character and Sherrif Carter (Colin Ferguson) being stuck in a sub-plot don’t make for a top notch episode of Eureka. Related articles by Zemanta

Eureka argues that even an altered timeline can’t change who you really are [Eureka Recap] (io9.com) Eureka 4.04: “The Story of O2? (pinkbananaworld.com) TV Review: Eureka – “The Story of O2″ (blogcritics.org) Colin Ferguson and me, on acting (wilwheaton.typepad.com)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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In the first episode of this new season of Eureka, the writers basically spent the entire time setting up a new reality for our protagonists. At first I wasn’t sure if this was going to be a one week thing, but it seems it will at least span the season. And on the strength of A New World, the second episode of the season, that’s a good thing. Slamming SyFy seems to be the hot thing in fanboy circles lately and they certainly make themselves an easy target.  But amongst all that ego bolstering  sound and fury it’s easy to ignore the fact that they have carved out a little niche for themselves. With shows like Haven, Warehouse 13 and of course Eureka they are offering sci-fi subject matter on a lower budget by setting them at least mainly in the “real” world. Eureka isn’t designed to be too challenging. It’s an hour of entertainment where they throw a bunch of science concepts together to give us a threat of the week. What makes it work is really the interaction of the appealing characters.  But after 3 years, things had become a little samey. And then they rebooted… This is still the Eureka that I’ve enjoyed for several years, just twisted around a bit. The show was never really about the plots, but about the characters and now our protagonists are presented with new challenges and dilemmas. It’s not a challenging show, but it is fun and I look forward to watching the rest of the season. Related articles by Zemanta

Eureka 4.02: “A New World” (pinkbananaworld.com) Eureka reveals the wonderful (and the terrible) of its brave new world [Eureka Recap] (io9.com) Eureka messes with the time-stream and gets awesome, show-altering consequences [Eureka Recap] (io9.com) ‘Eureka’ – ‘A New World’ Recap (tvsquad.com) Check Out The Season 4 Promo Poster For Syfy’s EUREKA (geektyrant.com) 10 Ways To Watch Eureka Season 4 Full Episodes Online For Free (geniusgeeks.com)

Eoghann Irving is a sci-Fi fan, self professed geek, owner of too many computers and general know it all. Follow me on Google Buzz, LinkedIn or Twitter to chat about this or anything else.

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Often, it seems the highest praise you can give a story is to say it avoids a common trope. And thanks to the Internet, everyone, including creators, is hyper-aware of this. But do we cherish trope-avoidance, instead of fresh storytelling? I was thinking about this the other day, when I was writing a recap of a TV episode, and found myself mentioning a trope that the episode had managed to avoid. There was a certain amount of pleasure involved in this moment, I realized — first of all, I felt all clever for realizing that there was a trope the episode had sidestepped. And then, acknowledging this fact made me appreciate the episode in a new light. And finally, there was the realization that, most likely, the people making the episode had also been aware of the trope in question, and had consciously avoided it. I also thought about it a bit after posting a link to the hilarious "World War II assessed as if it were a fictional TV show" rant, which pointed out all the tropes that World War II was guilty of. Which, as Bones creator Hart Hanson pointed out, really was what a lot of fan criticism sounds like. It's like judging a sporting event — you see the trope in the path of the narrative, and you sit on the edge of your seat. The trope is a sand pit, and you wait to see if the trope manages to vault over it safely. Then you award points for form. (Really, I should say "I," rather than "you," since I do this all the time.) It's part of what I love about the Internet, and about the pervasiveness of media-geekery. We're all insanely aware of the places that our stories tend to go, including some fairly obscure stuff that nobody would have thought of as "tropes" years ago. I mean, people always obsessed about clichés in storytelling, but not at the level that people have reached with sites like TVTropes. We've managed to broaden and deepen the scope of human knowledge regarding clichés. Truly, this is the golden age of modern metafictional geekery. How did we manage to be alive in such a time of plenty? There's just one thing more exciting, to the devoted story nerd, than a story that consciously avoids a trope — the story that subverts a trope. That's like, the story runs up to the sand pit, and instead of vaulting over, it, it blasts the sand with a LASER until it's turned to glass, and then rollerskates across. Early Buffy The Vampire Slayer is full of Olympics-level trope subversion — there's a possessed dummy, but it's actually a good guy! Good misdirection is always a pleasure of storytelling, but misdirection that plays with the expectations that past helpings of pop culture have created — that's the ultimate.

(And I think it's important to talk about pleasure here. Because part of what goes along with this consciousness about "tropes" on the part of both audiences and creators is a recognition that part of the pleasure of consuming a narrative comes from engaging with it actively. We get pleasure from recognizing that something has been done well, just as we get pleasure from tearing apart something that's been done badly. As with the active engagement that comes from spoilers and rumors, the internet has helped us all to enjoy being active. And in turn, a lot of creators seem to cooperate with fans in helping to dissect their own work, because they know we enjoy it. Oh, and one more thing — there's no wrong way to take pleasure from a story, unless you're a serial killer or something. If you're enjoying yourself by being either infinitely nitpicky or not nitpicky at all, don't let anybody tell you that you're doing it wrong.)

Or more recently, the episode of Supernatural that introduced a third Winchester brother displayed an Impala-sized awareness of our nerdspectations. Not only was the episode called "Jump The Shark," but they met the third brother in a café named after Cousin Oliver, the Brady Bunch relative introduced late in the show's run. And yet — wait for it — the show totally subverted the "long lost relative appears out of nowhere" trope. So yay, we're all metafictional now. But what I was wondering is: is avoiding or subverting a trope the same thing as fresh, original storytelling? And do we all place so much emphasis on how a story navigates the minefield that we lose sight of the most important thing, whether the story has power or not? Of course, the two things aren't exactly mutually exclusive. And part of the hope of being super-conscious of the sand pit is that you hope that we'll go someplace beautiful instead of getting stuck there. But on the other hand, sometimes you can just watch a story avoid a trope — and then have noplace else to go. I guess it's like vaulting over the sand pit and then not nailing the landing. But even beyond the fact that "absence of cliché" doesn't equate to "presence of inventive storytelling," there's also the question of whether we're looking at the wrong thing. In true nerd fashion, maybe we're overly focused on the details. Maybe we tend — and by "we," I definitely mean "me," among others — to fixate on the presence or absence of too-familiar story elements, instead of thinking about whether the story as a whole was fresh, or strong, and whether it moved us. (I'm not saying give a free pass to lazy writing, natch. But lazy writing isn't the same as falling into one of the thousand "been there done that" boxes.) Really, what storytellers should aspire to, and what us audience-members should look for, is truthfulness. Characters who feel real, and who breathe. Stories that have a momentum that comes from people's emotions as well as the progression of ideas. Because stories that feel like they're being honest and letting their characters be real people will also feel fresh. It's the characters and the ideas, and how truthfully the story plays them out, that make it fresh. Like Basia says, "It's really me and you/We're watching on the tube." (Yes, I was listening to Basia while I was writing this. You got a problem with that?) An idea you've seen a million times can take a whole new life if you feel like you've never seen this character in that situation, and you care enough and relate enough to see how that plays out. Likewise, a story can avoid falling into the trap of repeating older stories, in a clever way that feels totally mechanical. Of course, the "freshness" or "truthfulness" of a story is a lot harder to talk about than whether it zigged or zagged, and whether we saw that zag coming. But you know, us nerds love a challenge, right?

Often, it seems the highest praise you can give a story is to say it avoids a common trope. And thanks to the Internet, everyone, including creators, is hyper-aware of this. But do we cherish trope-avoidance, instead of fresh storytelling? I was thinking about this the other day, when I was writing a recap of a TV episode, and found myself mentioning a trope that the episode had managed to avoid. There was a certain amount of pleasure involved in this moment, I realized — first of all, I felt all clever for realizing that there was a trope the episode had sidestepped. And then, acknowledging this fact made me appreciate the episode in a new light. And finally, there was the realization that, most likely, the people making the episode had also been aware of the trope in question, and had consciously avoided it. I also thought about it a bit after posting a link to the hilarious "World War II assessed as if it were a fictional TV show" rant, which pointed out all the tropes that World War II was guilty of. Which, as Bones creator Hart Hanson pointed out, really was what a lot of fan criticism sounds like. It's like judging a sporting event — you see the trope in the path of the narrative, and you sit on the edge of your seat. The trope is a sand pit, and you wait to see if the trope manages to vault over it safely. Then you award points for form. (Really, I should say "I," rather than "you," since I do this all the time.) It's part of what I love about the Internet, and about the pervasiveness of media-geekery. We're all insanely aware of the places that our stories tend to go, including some fairly obscure stuff that nobody would have thought of as "tropes" years ago. I mean, people always obsessed about clichés in storytelling, but not at the level that people have reached with sites like TVTropes. We've managed to broaden and deepen the scope of human knowledge regarding clichés. Truly, this is the golden age of modern metafictional geekery. How did we manage to be alive in such a time of plenty? There's just one thing more exciting, to the devoted story nerd, than a story that consciously avoids a trope — the story that subverts a trope. That's like, the story runs up to the sand pit, and instead of vaulting over, it, it blasts the sand with a LASER until it's turned to glass, and then rollerskates across. Early Buffy The Vampire Slayer is full of Olympics-level trope subversion — there's a possessed dummy, but it's actually a good guy! Good misdirection is always a pleasure of storytelling, but misdirection that plays with the expectations that past helpings of pop culture have created — that's the ultimate.

(And I think it's important to talk about pleasure here. Because part of what goes along with this consciousness about "tropes" on the part of both audiences and creators is a recognition that part of the pleasure of consuming a narrative comes from engaging with it actively. We get pleasure from recognizing that something has been done well, just as we get pleasure from tearing apart something that's been done badly. As with the active engagement that comes from spoilers and rumors, the internet has helped us all to enjoy being active. And in turn, a lot of creators seem to cooperate with fans in helping to dissect their own work, because they know we enjoy it. Oh, and one more thing — there's no wrong way to take pleasure from a story, unless you're a serial killer or something. If you're enjoying yourself by being either infinitely nitpicky or not nitpicky at all, don't let anybody tell you that you're doing it wrong.)

Or more recently, the episode of Supernatural that introduced a third Winchester brother displayed an Impala-sized awareness of our nerdspectations. Not only was the episode called "Jump The Shark," but they met the third brother in a café named after Cousin Oliver, the Brady Bunch relative introduced late in the show's run. And yet — wait for it — the show totally subverted the "long lost relative appears out of nowhere" trope. So yay, we're all metafictional now. But what I was wondering is: is avoiding or subverting a trope the same thing as fresh, original storytelling? And do we all place so much emphasis on how a story navigates the minefield that we lose sight of the most important thing, whether the story has power or not? Of course, the two things aren't exactly mutually exclusive. And part of the hope of being super-conscious of the sand pit is that you hope that we'll go someplace beautiful instead of getting stuck there. But on the other hand, sometimes you can just watch a story avoid a trope — and then have noplace else to go. I guess it's like vaulting over the sand pit and then not nailing the landing. But even beyond the fact that "absence of cliché" doesn't equate to "presence of inventive storytelling," there's also the question of whether we're looking at the wrong thing. In true nerd fashion, maybe we're overly focused on the details. Maybe we tend — and by "we," I definitely mean "me," among others — to fixate on the presence or absence of too-familiar story elements, instead of thinking about whether the story as a whole was fresh, or strong, and whether it moved us. (I'm not saying give a free pass to lazy writing, natch. But lazy writing isn't the same as falling into one of the thousand "been there done that" boxes.) Really, what storytellers should aspire to, and what us audience-members should look for, is truthfulness. Characters who feel real, and who breathe. Stories that have a momentum that comes from people's emotions as well as the progression of ideas. Because stories that feel like they're being honest and letting their characters be real people will also feel fresh. It's the characters and the ideas, and how truthfully the story plays them out, that make it fresh. Like Basia says, "It's really me and you/We're watching on the tube." (Yes, I was listening to Basia while I was writing this. You got a problem with that?) An idea you've seen a million times can take a whole new life if you feel like you've never seen this character in that situation, and you care enough and relate enough to see how that plays out. Likewise, a story can avoid falling into the trap of repeating older stories, in a clever way that feels totally mechanical. Of course, the "freshness" or "truthfulness" of a story is a lot harder to talk about than whether it zigged or zagged, and whether we saw that zag coming. But you know, us nerds love a challenge, right?

If you think your favorite science fiction TV show is full of nonsensical plot twists and lazy writing, you should check out the World War II documentaries, suggests Squid314 on Livejournal, in the funniest blog post you're likely to read this week. Who on Earth would believe that the Allies could actually win the Battle of the Bulge? It's total nonsense, and "Whoever wrote this episode obviously had never been within a thousand miles of an actual military." Adds Squid314, aka Scott: Probably the worst part was the ending. The British/German story arc gets boring, so they tie it up quickly, have the villain kill himself (on Walpurgisnacht of all days, not exactly subtle) and then totally switch gears to a battle between the Americans and the Japanese in the Pacific. Pretty much the same dichotomy - the Japanese kill, torture, perform medical experiments on prisoners, and frickin' play football with the heads of murdered children, and the Americans are led by a kindly old man in a wheelchair. Anyway, they spend the whole season building up how the Japanese home islands are a fortress, and the Japanese will never surrender, and there's no way to take the Japanese home islands because they're invincible...and then they realize they totally can't have the Americans take the Japanese home islands so they have no way to wrap up the season. So they invent a completely implausible superweapon that they've never mentioned until now. Apparently the Americans got some scientists together to invent it, only we never heard anything about it because it was "classified". In two years, the scientists manage to invent a weapon a thousand times more powerful than anything anyone's ever seen before - drawing from, of course, ancient mystical texts. Then they use the superweapon, blow up several Japanese cities easily, and the Japanese surrender. Convenient, isn't it? ...and then, in the entire rest of the show, over five or six different big wars, they never use the superweapon again. Seriously. They have this whole thing about a war in Vietnam that lasts decades and kills tens of thousands of people, and they never wonder if maybe they should consider using the frickin' unstoppable mystical superweapon that they won the last war with. At this point, you're starting to wonder if any of the show's writers have even watched the episodes the other writers made. I'm convinced. We should start a write-in campaign to get the writers of the twentieth century fired. Who's with me? More incredible brilliance at the link. [Squid314 at LiveJournal]

If you think your favorite science fiction TV show is full of nonsensical plot twists and lazy writing, you should check out the World War II documentaries, suggests Squid314 on Livejournal, in the funniest blog post you're likely to read this week. Who on Earth would believe that the Allies could actually win the Battle of the Bulge? It's total nonsense, and "Whoever wrote this episode obviously had never been within a thousand miles of an actual military." Adds Squid314, aka Scott: Probably the worst part was the ending. The British/German story arc gets boring, so they tie it up quickly, have the villain kill himself (on Walpurgisnacht of all days, not exactly subtle) and then totally switch gears to a battle between the Americans and the Japanese in the Pacific. Pretty much the same dichotomy - the Japanese kill, torture, perform medical experiments on prisoners, and frickin' play football with the heads of murdered children, and the Americans are led by a kindly old man in a wheelchair. Anyway, they spend the whole season building up how the Japanese home islands are a fortress, and the Japanese will never surrender, and there's no way to take the Japanese home islands because they're invincible...and then they realize they totally can't have the Americans take the Japanese home islands so they have no way to wrap up the season. So they invent a completely implausible superweapon that they've never mentioned until now. Apparently the Americans got some scientists together to invent it, only we never heard anything about it because it was "classified". In two years, the scientists manage to invent a weapon a thousand times more powerful than anything anyone's ever seen before - drawing from, of course, ancient mystical texts. Then they use the superweapon, blow up several Japanese cities easily, and the Japanese surrender. Convenient, isn't it? ...and then, in the entire rest of the show, over five or six different big wars, they never use the superweapon again. Seriously. They have this whole thing about a war in Vietnam that lasts decades and kills tens of thousands of people, and they never wonder if maybe they should consider using the frickin' unstoppable mystical superweapon that they won the last war with. At this point, you're starting to wonder if any of the show's writers have even watched the episodes the other writers made. I'm convinced. We should start a write-in campaign to get the writers of the twentieth century fired. Who's with me? More incredible brilliance at the link. [Squid314 at LiveJournal]

There was no new episode of time-traveling action-comedy Doctor Who on BBC America this weekend, but that's okay. In lieu of another recap, we've got something to get off our chests. With vague spoilers for the end of season five. Doctor Who's new season has been a lot of fun to watch, in general — Matt Smith is the most Doctor-ish of the recent Doctors, and his performance just bursts with acting tics and neat ideas. Karen Gillan is a totally thrilling companion. The season-long arc was pretty thrilling, and kept us guessing. The whole thing has been cute, sparky, moving and extraordinarily watchable. There's just one thing that's been bugging me quite a bit — and that's the extent to which Steven Moffat's Who is already feeling like a one-trick pony. Or maybe, more accurately, a three- or four-trick pony. It may seem like a pusillanimous complaint — every era of Doctor Who has had its repeated motifs and go-to ideas, after all. And surely, what matters is how you use these repeated ideas, right? And most of all, when you complain about reusing plot devices you risk elevating plot about characters, or story, or the little moments that make Moffat's Who such a joy to watch. But still, to me, a big part of the thrill of Doctor Who is wondering what happens next. And when I heard Moffat was taking over as the show's new head writer, the first thing that jumped to mind was, "I can't wait to see what clever stuff he comes up with this time." And to a large extent, this year, it's felt like Moffat's clever ideas are the same ones he's had in years past. There are a couple ideas that he's reused over and over, and some that he's reused once or twice. In either case, I wouldn't mind seeing these plot devices take a vacation for 2011:

The Doctor tells scary aliens to go away. Especially if he tells them to look him up in a directory, or read up on him somewhere. Or if he encourages them to think about all the times he's defeated them before. I loved the "It is defended" speech in "The Christmas Invasion," and I quite liked the "look me up" speech in "Forest Of The Dead." But enough, already. The Doctor is getting blustery and self-promoting here. He's starting to remind us of those Internet hipsters who've somehow managed to convince angel investors that their totally impractical business plan will rock the cybersphere, and can't stop talking about it loudly in cafes. Remember when the Eccleston Doctor gave Mickey a disk that would erase all references to him from the internet, because he wanted to remain a secret? We want that Doctor back. Someone stops a deadly machine by admitting to their true feelings. This one first cropped up in "The Doctor Dances," to some extent — Nancy saves everybody from being turned into gasmask zombies by admitting that she's Jamie's mother. And it's turned up a few times since then — in the Dalek story, the android Professor Bracewell is able to keep himself from self-destructing by thinking about a girl he's had a crush on. In "The Lodger," an explosion is similarly averted by having two characters confess their love for each other. And in "Amy's Choice," Amy can only escape from the dream world after admitting, at last, that she really loves Rory. And then there's a bit of this in the finale as well. It's easy to see why this trope persists — after all, it allows you to have character resolution and plot resolution neatly in one go. But if it rears its head too often, it starts to feel a bit too neat and tidy. In the real world, coping with our feelings often gets in the way of coping with the big explodey machines, and vice versa — part of how we prove our worth as people is the way we balance those two challenges. Deadly and unknowable aliens use a dead humans's lingering remains to communicate. This has really only popped up twice — the Vashta Nerada use the last recorded thoughts of the humans in "Silence In The Library" to communicate with the Doctor. And then the Weeping Angels use the corpse of Sacred Bob to fashion themselves a ready-made sock-puppet with which they can speak into Sacred Bob's walkie-talkie, to taunt the Doctor. But if we see this one again next year, it'll start to seem distinctly tropey.

A little girl is trapped in an unreal world where she's the only one who can touch reality. This was the setup for "Silence In The Library" — the little girl is stuck in a virtual paradise, but Doctor Moon tells her it's not real, and only the Library, where the Doctor and his friends are trapped, is real. This motif crops up very strongly once again in "The Big Bang," where there's another little girl who's stuck in a world that's "wrong" in a very basic way, but she remembers the "real" world. A little girl meets the Doctor, and then she sees him again as an adult, but it's only been a few minutes for him. This is the plot of Moffat's acclaimed season-two story "The Girl In The Fireplace," and he cannibalizes it pretty heavily for the season five opener, "The Eleventh Hour." The overall effect of this trope is to make the Doctor a central figure in the female character's life, while to him she's just someone he's bumped into during his travels.

Timey-wimey cheating that actually affects the plot. We all know that Moffat loves to play with the sheer perverseness of time travel — he wrote a whole Doctor Who spoof, "The Curse Of The Fatal Death," in which the Doctor and the Master keep traveling back in time to outsmart each other, in sillier and sillier ways. And when it works, it's really brilliant — I'm completely enthralled with the Doctor's relationship with River Song, in which they "keep meeting in the wrong order." But it's a different matter when the Doctor faces an insoluble dilemma — until his future self steps in and helps him out, by tossing him the solution. If you follow that logic to its ultimate conclusion, the Doctor can never face a no-win situation, because he can always travel back in time from a future in which he's already solved the problem, and give himself the solution. At that point, the tension and drama go right out of the series, forever. This has been turned up in a lot of Moffat's scripts — in the otherwise perfect "Blink," the Doctor knows what Sally Sparrow is going to say to his DVD easter egg, years in the future, because her future self gave his past self a transcript. In "Forest Of The Dead," the future Doctor remembers that River Song is going to die in the library, so he gives his past self a way to save her. And then — spoiler alert — this device appears again in the season five finale, "The Big Bang." This one is the one I'm grumpiest about — partly because it gives the Doctor an easy "out" in any sticky situation, but also because it makes time travel into the Doctor's superpower, rather than just the way he arrives at his latest adventure. Moffat is still one of the most clever writers ever to have handled Doctor Who. And with the creation of Amy Pond, he's finessed the biggest problem of them all: How to create a version of the companion-centric story arc that doesn't feel like a repeat of Rose, Ace, Martha or Donna. So maybe it's excessively nit-picky to point out that he seems to reuse motifs and plot ideas an awful lot. Mostly, we know that his enormous brain still has some new twists and surprises stuffed into its root cellar, though, and we're dying for him to trot them out for Matt Smith's second season. Here's hoping it happens!

There was no new episode of time-traveling action-comedy Doctor Who on BBC America this weekend, but that's okay. In lieu of another recap, we've got something to get off our chests. With vague spoilers for the end of season five. Doctor Who's new season has been a lot of fun to watch, in general — Matt Smith is the most Doctor-ish of the recent Doctors, and his performance just bursts with acting tics and neat ideas. Karen Gillan is a totally thrilling companion. The season-long arc was pretty thrilling, and kept us guessing. The whole thing has been cute, sparky, moving and extraordinarily watchable. There's just one thing that's been bugging me quite a bit — and that's the extent to which Steven Moffat's Who is already feeling like a one-trick pony. Or maybe, more accurately, a three- or four-trick pony. It may seem like a pusillanimous complaint — every era of Doctor Who has had its repeated motifs and go-to ideas, after all. And surely, what matters is how you use these repeated ideas, right? And most of all, when you complain about reusing plot devices you risk elevating plot about characters, or story, or the little moments that make Moffat's Who such a joy to watch. But still, to me, a big part of the thrill of Doctor Who is wondering what happens next. And when I heard Moffat was taking over as the show's new head writer, the first thing that jumped to mind was, "I can't wait to see what clever stuff he comes up with this time." And to a large extent, this year, it's felt like Moffat's clever ideas are the same ones he's had in years past. There are a couple ideas that he's reused over and over, and some that he's reused once or twice. In either case, I wouldn't mind seeing these plot devices take a vacation for 2011:

The Doctor tells scary aliens to go away. Especially if he tells them to look him up in a directory, or read up on him somewhere. Or if he encourages them to think about all the times he's defeated them before. I loved the "It is defended" speech in "The Christmas Invasion," and I quite liked the "look me up" speech in "Forest Of The Dead." But enough, already. The Doctor is getting blustery and self-promoting here. He's starting to remind us of those Internet hipsters who've somehow managed to convince angel investors that their totally impractical business plan will rock the cybersphere, and can't stop talking about it loudly in cafes. Remember when the Eccleston Doctor gave Mickey a disk that would erase all references to him from the internet, because he wanted to remain a secret? We want that Doctor back. Someone stops a deadly machine by admitting to their true feelings. This one first cropped up in "The Doctor Dances," to some extent — Nancy saves everybody from being turned into gasmask zombies by admitting that she's Jamie's mother. And it's turned up a few times since then — in the Dalek story, the android Professor Bracewell is able to keep himself from self-destructing by thinking about a girl he's had a crush on. In "The Lodger," an explosion is similarly averted by having two characters confess their love for each other. And in "Amy's Choice," Amy can only escape from the dream world after admitting, at last, that she really loves Rory. And then there's a bit of this in the finale as well. It's easy to see why this trope persists — after all, it allows you to have character resolution and plot resolution neatly in one go. But if it rears its head too often, it starts to feel a bit too neat and tidy. In the real world, coping with our feelings often gets in the way of coping with the big explodey machines, and vice versa — part of how we prove our worth as people is the way we balance those two challenges. Deadly and unknowable aliens use a dead humans's lingering remains to communicate. This has really only popped up twice — the Vashta Nerada use the last recorded thoughts of the humans in "Silence In The Library" to communicate with the Doctor. And then the Weeping Angels use the corpse of Sacred Bob to fashion themselves a ready-made sock-puppet with which they can speak into Sacred Bob's walkie-talkie, to taunt the Doctor. But if we see this one again next year, it'll start to seem distinctly tropey.

A little girl is trapped in an unreal world where she's the only one who can touch reality. This was the setup for "Silence In The Library" — the little girl is stuck in a virtual paradise, but Doctor Moon tells her it's not real, and only the Library, where the Doctor and his friends are trapped, is real. This motif crops up very strongly once again in "The Big Bang," where there's another little girl who's stuck in a world that's "wrong" in a very basic way, but she remembers the "real" world. A little girl meets the Doctor, and then she sees him again as an adult, but it's only been a few minutes for him. This is the plot of Moffat's acclaimed season-two story "The Girl In The Fireplace," and he cannibalizes it pretty heavily for the season five opener, "The Eleventh Hour." The overall effect of this trope is to make the Doctor a central figure in the female character's life, while to him she's just someone he's bumped into during his travels.

Timey-wimey cheating that actually affects the plot. We all know that Moffat loves to play with the sheer perverseness of time travel — he wrote a whole Doctor Who spoof, "The Curse Of The Fatal Death," in which the Doctor and the Master keep traveling back in time to outsmart each other, in sillier and sillier ways. And when it works, it's really brilliant — I'm completely enthralled with the Doctor's relationship with River Song, in which they "keep meeting in the wrong order." But it's a different matter when the Doctor faces an insoluble dilemma — until his future self steps in and helps him out, by tossing him the solution. If you follow that logic to its ultimate conclusion, the Doctor can never face a no-win situation, because he can always travel back in time from a future in which he's already solved the problem, and give himself the solution. At that point, the tension and drama go right out of the series, forever. This has been turned up in a lot of Moffat's scripts — in the otherwise perfect "Blink," the Doctor knows what Sally Sparrow is going to say to his DVD easter egg, years in the future, because her future self gave his past self a transcript. In "Forest Of The Dead," the future Doctor remembers that River Song is going to die in the library, so he gives his past self a way to save her. And then — spoiler alert — this device appears again in the season five finale, "The Big Bang." This one is the one I'm grumpiest about — partly because it gives the Doctor an easy "out" in any sticky situation, but also because it makes time travel into the Doctor's superpower, rather than just the way he arrives at his latest adventure. Moffat is still one of the most clever writers ever to have handled Doctor Who. And with the creation of Amy Pond, he's finessed the biggest problem of them all: How to create a version of the companion-centric story arc that doesn't feel like a repeat of Rose, Ace, Martha or Donna. So maybe it's excessively nit-picky to point out that he seems to reuse motifs and plot ideas an awful lot. Mostly, we know that his enormous brain still has some new twists and surprises stuffed into its root cellar, though, and we're dying for him to trot them out for Matt Smith's second season. Here's hoping it happens!