Live-Blogging Doctor Who: The Fires of Pompeii

Time for the second episode of season four, with special guest stars my parents. Mind, they won’t be making an appearance during this live-blogging unless they say something extremely funny.

But it’s been a convivial day: we went to see the Picasso exhibition at the Gallery of Modern Art—I’m not saying it was poorly curated, because I don’t think it was, but it was intensely crowded, which made it remarkably difficult to get close to the smaller, more delicate pieces, such as the Degas . . . engravings, I think they were. But they could have been pencil drawings, or charcoal, because I couldn’t get close enough to read the labels.

Then we had a lovely, slightly boozy lunch to celebrate the positive reports on my Ph.D. thesis.

And, of course, then we boozed a little more over our leftover roast-beef sandwiches for dinner.

So convivial is, I think, the best word.

In fact, take this earlier conversation as emblematic:

DAD: What’s that noise?
ME: Fruitbats.
NICK: It’s best not to ask what they’re doing.
ME: They’re fighting. Definitely fighting.
NICK: Well, something starting with “f.”

He later claimed that he meant “fraternising,” but I’m not sure that’s better.

Of course, when I started this, I thought we were closer to the start of Doctor Who than we are, because I always forget that the sports broadcast (or “braidcast,” according to my keyboard) starts at quarter past the hour these days.

But we’re up to the weather now, and while I never intended to live-blog the weather, that means we can’t be far off actual Doctor Who now.

In the interim, apparently there are isolated showers around the coast. Of course, that’s only relevant if you’re in Queensland, so make of that what you will.

My spell-checker doesn’t recognise the word “Queensland.” And we’re supposed to be the Smart State.

If Doctor Who doesn’t start soon, this will be the most boring blog post in history.

Ooh, we’ve started! I was distracted.

We’re in “ancient Rome.” I’d like to go to ancient Rome. (Should that have a capital letter?)

This was the first episode where I really liked Donna. And I do love the geeky Latin jokes, but it’s been a while since I’ve been able to say “veni, vidi, vici” after the football.

The make-up on these seers (spoiler!) really creeps me out, especially the eyes on their hands. Whoops, spoilers again.

Pompeii on Volcano Day—that’s a Captain Jack reference, surely? The Doctor only borrowed it from him.

My mother’s very confused about why the Latin that Donna’s speaking wouldn’t actually come out as Latin. That seems a good point: perhaps the TARDIS’s translation circuits aren’t very good?

You’d think he’d have some sort of bicycle lock—or something—for the TARDIS: it’s always going missing. Mind, I wish this man hadn’t bought the TARDIS as modern art, because it’s only likely to rekindle Nick’s desire to actually have a TARDIS in the corner of our living room—and we really don’t have room for one.

Ooh, cavorting with Etruscans. Sounds funs.

Unlike being a seer: that doesn’t seem as though it’s fun at all. Especially not if all you have to do is breathe in hot smoke all the time.

Dad’s slightly alarmed by the stone creature under the house. He’s a vocal TV watcher: he tends to respond to programmes with little muttered comments like “oh god, what’s that?”

Ah, hands on eyes. And eyes on hands. Simultaneously. That creeps me out, but I’m not entirely sure why. There have been many more disturbing things in Doctor Who over the years.

One of the things that I like about Donna is that she’s stroppy. We’ve had stroppy companions before, but I’ve always liked them. Like Ace.

Is it wrong that I find that Spartacus joke so funny that I just snorted out loud? (I mean, obviously the snorting out loud is wrong, but it was involuntary.)

The Romans don’t have a word for “volcano”? Is that true? (Tim, you’d know that, wouldn’t you? Because I can’t be bothered getting up and fetching the OED.)

The exchange of prophecies is hilarious, especially since three-quarters of what the Doctor says doesn’t make sense. Do you know, I really like this writer? His episode of Torchwood was devastating, but this one is so funny: he manages to make the Spartacus joke and the “she’s from Barcelona” line work in an ahistorical context.

I’d forgotten the “there’s something on your back” line Lucius directs to Donna. That’s interesting. Or it will be in about two months.

Of course, my dad wants to know now, because he’s impatient, but he’ll just have to wait.

This Doctor’s like a puppy: he’s constantly inquisitive—he’s looking at the pit the vapours come out of, at the moment—and always looking to see who he can make friends with. It’s one of the aspects that I think Tennant has brought to the role—the Doctor’s usually had high social skills, but this puppy-friendliness is new—and one of the aspects that I like most about the character. That and the fact that he’s completely mad, in a rather Tom Baker fashion.

Now the Doctor’s breaking into Lucius’s house. Really, would you want a great steaming pit in the middle of your living room? Although, I wouldn’t mind a fountain, especially in Brisbane in the summer. I could have goldfish. And lilies.

Donna’s toga is a little low-cut, isn’t it? And did women wear togas? Or was that purely a man’s costume: were the women’s dresses called something else?

Ah, Donna’s about to put her foot in it. I can see why she does it, and it’s a good thing—it’s an inevitable thing, really, for a novice time traveller—but she’ll regret that when the Sibylline Sisterhood get their hands on her.

Hey, my computer recognises “Sibylline” as a word, where it doesn’t recognise “Queensland.” Or “Spartacus.” I find that remarkably odd.

Go on, pull his arm off! That’s not as escape plan that’s likely to work very often, I wouldn’t have thought. But it works here, and that’s the important thing.

Ooh, “allons y” again . . . I’ll say again, keep an eye out for that in a couple of months’ time.

If you have to be followed by something, I suspect that an enormous, glowing, stone man who can breathe fire would be at the bottom of my list of favourites. No, not the bottom: sharks would be lower. But very near the bottom of the list. Unless I happened to have a bucket of water handy, and how often does that happen?

Ooh, Donna was kidnapped while I wasn’t looking. But I like a companion who, tied to a table and threatened with a knife, responds “Don’t you dare!” She’s brilliant, Donna.

The Doctor met a sybil who could dance the tarantella? Sometimes I want to see some of these back stories. But you couldn’t make an entire episode out of them.

How on earth could you even think that turning into stone is a blessing? I mean, I know these seers are all mad, with the inhaling of red-hot stone dust and so forth, but how could you even assume that that was a good thing? I suppose it would cut down on medical bills—and if you’re not driven nuts by all the chanting and the rocking that the members of the sisterhood think is necessary, then you must be a fairly even-tempered person. I’d go nuts with all the repetition: it’s like fifteen toddlers.

No way, yes way, Appian Way? It made me laugh, anyway. And is that a Bill and Ted joke? There’s nothing I like more than a Bill and Ted joke.

That fact that the Doctor can see time—I suppose rather like the Tralfalmadorians (don’t correct my spelling) in Slaughterhouse Five, who can see all of time like a mountain range—then that might explain why he’s slightly mad, now. Especially since, as he says, he’s the only one left, so he can’t—as he’s done for years—ignore the responsibility.

Lucius really is rather shrill and annoying, isn’t he?

That water pistol must have an enormous reservoir. That’s convenient.

Oh, Pyrovillia (don’t correct my spelling!) has gone, has it? That’s also interesting. (I’m really enjoying the long-term plotting in this season. It seems to be rather more subtle than the “Bad Wolf” seeding in season one of the new series or—what was it in season two? I’ve forgotten now. Or even Harold Saxon in season three: ah, Master? You’re not dead, are you? Or, at least, you’ll regenerate, won’t you? Please come back!)

The Doctor’s about to make Vesuvius erupt, by the way. I got a bit carried away and forgot to mention any of the narrative developments.

Oh, dear: Lucius is dead. But then so are most of the inhabitants of Pompeii, now. And also Pliny the Elder. Or was it Pliny the Younger? No, it was the father, wasn’t it?

(Honestly: I’ve seen this episode before. I should do my Googling in advance, so I can look really clever.)

I’ll buy that the Pyrovillians’ spaceship could survive the exploding of a volcano—but not that they can outrun an explosion of super-heated gas.

The destruction of Pompeii is rather disturbing to watch: I suppose it’s because we’ve all seen the photographs of the bodies and the preserved houses, and the despairing poses here are just a little too evocative.

I don’t mind that the Doctor goes back for the family, here. (And, Doctor, just because you can’t save Gallifrey doesn’t mean you should never go back, ever.) But, as I was saying, I don’t mind that he goes back for this family. I’m a sucker for a happy ending, and this family were rather charming.

(I wish he’d said “Come with me if you want to live,” though. That would have been hilariously anachronistic. But, given the lack of sophistication in my sense of humour, it was probably in an early draft and removed as too unsubtle. I’ll just chuckle quietly over the possibility in my own head.)

But, even though I like the fact that at least one family were saved, I think the final visual joke is a bit over the top for me. But we’re not up to that yet.

So does “volcano” derive from Vulcan? It would, wouldn’t it? (Tim, you’d know that. My dictionary is still too far away.)

Donna is good for the Doctor, you know. She doesn’t take any rubbish from anyone, and the Doctor does need that, because he’s been too prone to having his own way.

Ah, there’s the visual joke that’s a bit much for me. And wouldn’t devout Romans still at least have ancestral masks?

Oh, that’s not important. That was a lovely, funny episode—except for the moments when all the Pompeiians were dying—and prefigures some of the other humorous episodes, like the Agatha Christie one.

Hey, it was filmed in Italy? No—I’d best not blog Doctor Who Confidential or else I’ll be here all night.

Next week, Ood. Creepy, creepy Ood.