Human Nature / The Family of Blood
review


Holistic Review: Unsurprisingly, the top-ranked New Adventure becomes an instant modern classic.


Paul Cornell's done it again, hasn't he? After the emotional powerhouse that was 2005's Father's Day, he returns with a multilayered rewarding plotline adapted from his award-winning New Adventure. I've always enjoyed Cornell's books, but more often than not, I found them a little heavy-handed on the symbolism and the angst. Back when I reviewed Father's Day, I mentioned that the only book of his I'd really enjoyed was Human Nature, not realizing at the time, of course, that in a mere two years, I'd be able to watch it adapted for the small screen. It's been so long since I originally read the book that I can't remember exactly how I felt about it when it was first released. I definitely remember thinking that the second trilogy of Bernice-solo books (Infinite Requiem, Sanctuary and Human Nature) was far better than the first (Transit, The Highest Science and The Pit, gaaah) had been. I do remember having some reservations about it, but overall thought it was a very enjoyable and well-written novel. I did go back and re-read it a few weeks before the television episodes aired, and there were several themes in the novel that struck me as particularly wonderful. What's even better is that the televised adaptation really holds close to the spirit of the original in all of these areas.

One of these themes is the idea that the Doctor wants to experience humanity, and learn what it means to be human. In the book, the contrast between the Doctor and John Smith is so interesting because all of the seventh Doctor's mysterious alien, manipulative nature has been stripped away, leaving him as nothing more than a small, meek man. Here, the tenth Doctor is already more in touch with his humanity, and he doesn't seem to be seeking out humanity specifically for the learning experience, so the contrast isn't quite as great - but we still see that as a human, he seems to be much more laid back and at peace with himself, and his mind seems to be working on a mere one track at a time, instead of twelve. (I do wish he'd changed his hairstyle, though - it really doesn't look very period for 1913. Still, they do put him in a mortarboard, as so dramatically worn by the seventh Doctor on the original cover of the novel.)

I really loved the fact that, in both the novel and the adaptation, the morality of 1913 is presented as fact, not apologized for, but seeming so small-minded in comparison to today's perspective. John Smith seems to basically possess all of the same morals as the Doctor, but he knows that some of them are considered unacceptable, and he doesn't seem to feel that he can stand up for his beliefs in the context of the boys' school. Hence we get the scene in which Latimer cruelly asks if he can beat Latimer for being inept at handling a gun, and rather than objecting, Smith's only reply is an offhand "Permission granted." And, in a later scene, Smith calls all of the boys to take arms and fight the alien invaders, despite Martha and Joan's protestations that the boys might be killed, and despite his own distaste for the situation, which becomes apparent as he watches the children firing their guns and realizes that he cannot do the same or allow them to continue doing it either. In fact, Joan almost seems to serve as Smith's conscience here, probing him to realize that the societal beliefs he's taking for granted aren't necessarily the best method, or even the method that he himself really believes in.

The ethics of war, in fact, is another of the big themes of the book that's represented really well here. On one hand, we have the headmaster, whose staunch belief in the necessity and glory of war leads him to train his boys in the art of killing, never realizing that within one short year they'll be forced into battle. (It's never mentioned here, but one does have to admit that this training and early exposure to conflict may well have saved some of these boys' lives, so as horrible as it seems to be training children to be killers, he may not have been that far off the mark.) And on the other hand, we have Joan, whose anger at the army after her husband was killed in the Boer War leads to her vocally opposing the schoolboys' training. Ironically, the possessed Baines also vocalizes this opinion eloquently, despite the fact that the Family is engaged in a take-no-prisoners war of their own: "War is coming. In foreign fields, war of the whole wide world with all your boys falling down in the mud. Do you think they will thank the man who taught them it was glorious?" Smith falls somewhere in between - his human nature is telling him that the boys must fight, but the lingering remnants of the Doctor's personality mean that deep down, he's not happy with it at all, and it takes Joan and Martha's persuasion to make him realize that he isn't a born fighter and he doesn't want anyone to risk their lives doing it. One of the best scenes in the episode, which really drives this point home, is the shot of the boys preparing to engage the enemy, and one or two of them sniffling and wiping away tears of terror as they realize that they just might die. Boys playing a deadly grown-up game which this story regards with both contempt, and an understanding that it's sometimes necessary. Really well-done.

Given the setting, the novel also makes a big deal of bullying, and the importance of being true to yourself even when other people try to pull you down. Sadly there's not quite as much of this made in the TV version, with Tim's bullying being limited to a few lines of dialogue rather than the sometimes-extreme punishment he's dealt in the novel. The influence of the Doctor's personality isn't quite as strong on Tim either, so he doesn't seem to grow quite as much in the televised version as he did in the novel. Still, there's enough reference made to the cruelty of public schoolboys to get the point across, and Tim definitely comes out on top - he sticks to his morals, proudly declares "Oh yes sir, every time!" when Hutchinson accuses him of being a "filty coward" for not fighting, and ultimately he even manages to save the life of the boy who used to bully him, so I was quite happy with how this theme was worked into the television episodes as well.

With his transformation into the meek John Smith, David Tennant is practically given a brand-new role to play, and as such he's allowed to run a whole new gamut of emotions. His best moments, of course, are when Smith finds himself unable to summon up any details about his childhood, which seems to frighten him. Then he sees the TARDIS, and desperately tries to deny the Doctor's existence in the hopes that his life is not a sham, until he ends up sobbing in Joan's arms when he realizes that he can't avoid the choice that he's being forced to make. The more evidence that rules in the Doctor's favor, the more John realizes that he's going to have to become the Doctor again, which essentially means losing everything that makes him human. Unsurprisingly, he equates this to being killed - after all, there have been enough stories of alien possession (this one included) in which the overwritten alien intelligence utterly destroys the personality of its host, that it's easy to understand why John would be so terrified of giving his body up to the Doctor. If Jenny had learned that she was only an invented human persona inhabiting the body of the mother of the Family, would we have been any happier to see her effectively destroyed? I doubt it. It's a testament to David Tennant's convincing portrayal of Smith's agony that, when the Doctor suddenly snatches the watch out of the air and stands up with his usual breezy confidence, I realized that instead of grinning and punching the air with delight, I was actually rather sad. Even though I knew perfectly well what was coming. I feel as though the Doctor's lost something so important, even if it would have destroyed the essence of who he was, and even though he seems to think he can still recapture some of what it meant to be John Smith. What's really interesting is that this storyline has the potential to radically change the Doctor's character. Will he take with him the lessons that he learned from being John Smith? And what lessons did he take away from being human, really, other than knowing what it's like to fall in love? (which alone might be enough of a lesson, given how emotionally distant he's been in the past - stand up, Doctor number nine.)

The core of this episode, Smith's romance with Joan, is so extremely well-done. I have to say that I found it way more believable than his romance with Madame de Pompadour last season - maybe it's just because I already knew Joan so well from the book, but I think it was more down to Jessica Hynes' nuanced portrayal. Honestly, I had this dread that they were going to cast some sultry twenty-something to adjust for the age difference between Tennant and McCoy, but in actual fact, Joan looks pretty much exactly as I had always imagined her - possibly a little less severe, but essentially perfect. I couldn't believe it. And Hynes is only 35 years old, so I think it's down to her mature portrayal and the way she's been made up. This is the first time I've ever been fully in favor of a romance for the Doctor. It's most likely due to the situation - I might begrudge our sexless Time Lord getting some nookie, but the human John Smith falling in love is just plain sweet (kisses included). It also helps that, rather like Mme de Pompadour, Joan is no shrinking violet. She has strong opinions, a backbone, and, one gets the impression, a life of her own. She has a good memory for details, she's analytical and logical (pointing out the existence of the Doctor's watch, even though she doesn't believe Martha's story), she accepts the evidence of her own eyes even if it goes against what she believes to be true (the existence of aliens), she's openminded enough to not attempt to rationalize such things away - as Joan herself says, "How easily I accept these ideas." - and she's clever enough to use her newfound knowledge to develop a plan of action (such as when she subtly probes John for any childhood knowledge about Nottingham, suggests they hide at the Cartwright house, or points out what the Family will do if John gives up the watch). She's modest about her looks, despite looking quite beautiful in her dress for the dance, with a good sense of humor (upon witnessing the Doctor's portrait of her, she points to the Slitheen on the previous page and asks "Are you sure that's not me?"). And she's selfless, not wanting to let John sacrifice himself for her when he doesn't fully realize what that sacrifice will mean. It's no wonder the Doctor offers to let her join him onboard the TARDIS. But you have to wonder: is there really any chance that they could have rekindled their relationship? And how on earth would Martha have felt about it if they had? Poor Joan keeps her emotions so tightly under wraps, but we get a glimpse when she has said her final, strained goodbyes to the Doctor, and once he's gone, clings to Smith's book - the only possession of his that she has left - as she finally lets herself weep over losing him.

And as I said when discussing the themes of the book, I like that we see an accurate 1913 version of Joan, warts and all. She has strong opinions about the war and isn't afraid to challenge people's viewpoints, but she also has very contemporary notions of class and race, admonishing Martha on several occasions for having ideas above her station ("Well, that certainly is nonsense. Women might train to be doctors, but hardly a skivvy and hardly one of your color."). In most other dramas, I think, that kind of dialogue would only go to the villains - but we like Joan, and we know she doesn't mean to be cruel, she's simply a product of her time, just as John Smith is of his, to an extent. So we accept her for her failings, even though we hope for her to be enlightened (which, by the end, perhaps she is), and in the process I hope the children watching get a better sense of how bigoted people could be in the past, and how little in some respects things have changed today. It's at times like this that I love what a wonderful platform Doctor Who can be for social enlightenment.

As for Martha, after really proving her worth in The Lazarus Experiment and vocalizing her deep faith in the Doctor in 42, here I feel like she really comes into her own as a companion. I still wouldn't say that Martha's among my top favorite companions (neither, I might add, was Rose, despite Billie Piper's amazing acting), but here she finds that even when the Doctor isn't around, she can handle difficult situations on her own. And speaking of Rose, I would also point out that when the Doctor has, to all intents and purposes, abandoned Martha, does she give up and go have a good cry? No! She puts on her stiff upper lip and, even though she knows they can't do anything without having the watch, goes bravely forward and tries to determine a course of action. So, essentially, for the first three-quarters of this story (or at least in the third quarter), Martha has to become the Doctor, and when a companion can do that, they've reached a certain level of proficiency that I think makes them very admirable.

Using Martha as a replacement for Benny in this story means that a number of changes have to be made. Instead of being John Smith's niece and underdog-championing suffragette befriender (the suffragettes do at least get mentioned at one point), Martha has to stick closer to the Doctor, and her skin color means that in this time period, she's the housemaid. I'm extremely pleased that for the first time, we see Martha having to endure an era (and situation) in which people don't simply accept her despite the color of her skin. Granted, the racism of an English boys' school in 1913 isn't as brutal as she would have encountered in many other places and times, but it's wonderful to see the way that Martha copes with the idiocy of the people around her. Rather than getting offended, she takes the high road and lets their comments roll off her back, whether it's the headmaster ignoring her, Joan being uppity, or the boys mocking her. And, perhaps in the same way as she cautiously tried to observe Elizabethan customs, she similarly tries to remain unobtrusive as a school housemaid, but she doesn't let the role constrain her. She refuses to be cowed or belittled, or follow protocol that's essentially meaningless to her, and speaks her mind when it's important. I like that a lot. It's impressive that Martha knows when to abide by local custom and when to shove it, and overall makes her seem very capable.

She's sharp and quick-witted when Jenny is taken over, cleverly tossing in suggestions that the real Jenny would find absurd ("Or sardines and jam, how about that?") and watching her reaction before slipping quietly away. Her bravery comes out more than possibly ever before when, provided with a distraction, she turns the tables on her captors and holds a gun on them until everybody in the dance hall can escape, including the Doctor! Her medical background gets called upon here, too, most often in her dealings with Joan. I initially wondered why they had changed Joan from the science teacher to a nurse, but I see now that it enabled her to interact with Martha on a different level. While Joan has completed her medical studies, Martha's aiming for an even higher proficiency level, and while Joan frequently doubts the credentials that Martha claims she has, Martha eventually gets to prove her medical knowledge to Joan in a very nice scene.

I'm hoping that this story proves to be the turning point (of some kind) in Martha's infatuation with the Doctor. Things were going so well, and I was loving Martha in this story, up until she stared morosely at the TARDIS scanner and grumped, "You had to, didn't you? You had to go and fall in love with a human. And it wasn't me." At which point I uttered a very loud and very agonized groan. But, you know, things actually improve after that. She again hints at her feelings for the Doctor when she assures Joan that she's no rival for his affections, but it doesn't come out as wistful... more like an acceptance of the situation. And, better yet, she gets a great scene in which she tries to persuade Smith how much the Doctor is needed: "People are dying out there! They need him, and I need him! 'Cause you've got no idea what he's like. I've only just met him - it wasn't even that long ago, but, he is everything. He's just everything to me, and he doesn't even look at me, but I don't care. 'Cause I love him to bits. And I hope to God he won't remember me saying this!" Maybe it's just because it comes across as a love deeper than sexual attraction - which is kind of what Rose's seemed to evolve into (or, at least, so she claimed) - but this seems much more palatable to me. And, either way, at least her feelings are out in the open now, and the Doctor knows about them, so maybe she can move past it finally.

Freema gives a lot of great line deliveries here, most of which I'll be quoting below. When Hutchinson demeaningly asks her name, Martha's reply is a congenial - and not at all intimidated - "Martha, sir. Martha Jones." Her urgent and disbelieving "Did you see it though?" to Jenny is quite nice, and I love her beaming smile when the Doctor's personality starts to reassert itself when he first holds the watch. And I love that finally, Freema gets to wear period clothing.

All praise Harry Lloyd! When have we had such a terrifying guest actor on the show in recent memory? Probably not since The Satan Pit, and who can really compete against the Devil? His perpetual smirk is... a work of genius. And it's not just a smirk, it's sort of... superior, and sadistic. And his eyes, which fairly burn with intelligence and cruel amusement. Can we bring him back to play the Mara too? He also gives the most entertaining delivery to his lines, several of which I'll be quoting below, and his fanatical screams ("Soldiers? Soldiers!", "Attack!" and "Run!") are chilling. I was just thoroughly impressed with him. This was one of those performances that makes me say, I'd watch anything he's ever in. But how could it top this?

The rest of the Family are wonderfully creepy too, particularly the way they sniff the air menacingly, with Rebekah Staton definitely being the next most successful. I love Jenny's friendly relationship with Martha, and the fact that she doesn't care one whit what color Martha's skin is - she's just funny and a very good person. I never would have thought that Staton had it in her to be so terrifying, but she does. Gerard Horan comes across as more dead than alien, as Mr Clark, but it's unnerving nonetheless. Lauren Wilson is maybe slightly less convincing as Lucy Cartwright, but she looks deceptively innocent enough (which is used to good advantage when Baines sends Lucy to infiltrate the school), and I'm quite glad that we at least have a visual substitute for Aphasia from the novel, even if Lucy's balloon is only decorative rather than deadly. Given that this balloon actually came from Earth, I think it would have been kind of silly if it had been converted into a weapon, as much fun as that would have been.

The other main guest character of note is Thomas Sangster as Tim Latimer, who is likewise perfectly cast. He looks young and innocent enough to be a ripe target for bullying, but he's also got wisdom behind his eyes, and a maturity beyond his years. His slightly psychic leanings are introduced well, and aren't overused, being instead mainly used to justify why he can perceive the alien nature of the Doctor's fob watch. Even though, as I said, he doesn't get quite the same chance to "become" the Doctor as he did in the novel, I like that we can clearly see the influence of the Doctor's personality on him - for example, when he declares "That's exactly the problem, sir. They only have spears." I love that he uses his foreknowledge to save both his life and Latimer's, and his quiet "Thank you, Doctor" is perfectly done and very affecting.

The only element of this story that actually disappointed me was the scarecrows. They had soooo much potential, especially with those freakishly creepy masks, hands-down the best since the clockwork robots. And their first scene, jerking to life and advancing on Mr Clark, actually is pretty terrifying... the problem is that they never really do anything afterwards. Like the pig men, and the Beast, we never really get a sense of what they can do to you (aside from... grab you and carry you around), hence we don't know why they're scary. They aren't even impervious to bullets, despite not having bodies that can be killed. You'd think animated straw would be pretty hard to kill, short of fire, but apparently that's not the case. It is, however, clever that - as Gray pointed out - using scarecrows as foot soldiers alongside the Family means that, unlike in the book, the children don't have to fire guns at sentient beings; mowing down a horde of scarecrows is much more palatable than watching them shoot humanoids that can die painfully.

My respect for Charles Palmer continues to grow. He was a perfect choice to film this story, with lots of really interesting angles and beautiful shot composition the whole way through. I think he makes the Family look sooooooo threatening - such as the shot in which the three of them (minus Mother) all tilt their heads and sniff simultaneously - especially the sort of fish-eye lens he uses for close-ups of Baines. This man really knows how to film a hillside; lots of beautiful shots of tree branches and scarecrows blowing in the breeze against the blue sky, the Doctor strolling away from the Baines-scarecrow, and the TARDIS parked on a green slope in the rain. There's a great shot of Martha aiming the gun at the Family / camera as she backs away from them / it, and the shot of the Family's ship exploding and throwing them to the ground in the blast. The only moment I even question is the amount of time dedicated to watching the Doctor scream in agony as he submits himself to the chameleon arch; I think one quick glimpse of his agony would have been more than enough (although it would be hard to give up the accompanying scene of Martha's excellent reaction). I was pleased to hear that much of this episode was filmed at the St Fagans Museum of Welsh Life, although apparently it's changed names since I visited in the summer of 2000. Sadly I barely remember enough of it to know if I visited any of the particular filming locations, but that still gave me a thrill.

I really really love the effect of the invisible ship, with shimmering green lines that only become visible when the exterior is touched. The effect of Mother invading Jenny's body suddenly, on the most recent viewing, put me very much in mind of Lost's smoke monster. In the realm of sound effects, it's awesome the way that Baines' voice starts to echo around the inside of the ship once the invisible door has been opened. And then we have the incidental music, which is another notch on Gold's belt. Like quite a few of his stories, it's not especially memorable all around, but it's never embarrassing, and that's a plus in my book. (Oh, for the days of Mark Ayres, when even "average" was not even a term to be considered, much less declared with relief.) There are a couple of notable musical scenes, though: the score accompanying Martha's trip down memory lane inside the TARDIS, and the moment when Tim reveals the watch to Martha. I like the boys' choir too, which is re-used to particular effect over the scene in which the schoolboys fire on the scarecrow army, where the innocent sound contrasts really well with the violence onscreen.

I think the historicals overall really benefit from being two-parters, perhaps this one more than most. I'm not exactly sure why, but I felt like this story evoked 1913 better even than The Empty Child gave us 1941, and definitely better than the 1930 of Daleks in Manhattan, possibly because both of those stories relied on more futuristic elements than this one does, so there's more time here to devote to recreating 1913. I'm sure it helps that the threat of World War One looms large in both setting and themes, and Martha's plight as the domestic help is a great assist with the tone. The setting (a boys' school in a small village) is a definite plus, being both unique and contributing to the bucolic period feel.

On a final note, this is just a great plot. I really do love stories that take our heroes and change them into something they're not; Buffy did this really well in both "Halloween" and "Helpless" - or, to take some examples a little more like Human Nature, there's "I Will Remember You" from Angel or perhaps the films The Last Unicorn and The Fifth Element. Given the Doctor's fondness for humans, his apparently (previous?) half-human nature, and his frequent inability to understand human emotions (at least in his last incarnation), it's fitting that he finally gets to experience humanity himself. It's quite a high-concept idea - light-years away from "the Doctor and Martha are trapped in a ship in the middle of the sun" - and if the new series continues exploring themes like this, I can't imagine it ending anytime soon.

Minor points:

Utterly classic - great storyline, great dialogue, great cast... just great everything. This one's going down in Doctor Who history.


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