It’s November 28^th, 2021. Adele remains at number one, where she’s joined by two new Adele tracks, along with the Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift from last week. For variety, D-Block Europe featuring Central Cee sneaks in at 8^th. It’ll be back out of the top ten next week though. Don’t worry.

In news, a boat of thirty migrants capsizes in the English Channel, killing twenty-eight. The newly designated Omicron variant of COVID-19 causes Johnson to reimpose restrictions, with masks required on public transport and in shops again. In the US, it’s Thanksgiving weekend. We have Christine over for our first proper holiday together, and I do a hopelessly elaborate multi-course menu over the course of the day that leaves me gloriously dead on my feet by the end.

And on television, Survivors of the Flux, which notably contains two Vs in its title. In this regard it’s similar to Everything Everywhere All at Once, which came out four months later. There are other similarities, of course, though it’s easy to fall into the familiar fandom trap of declaring that any science fiction that engages in any sort of genre hopping or dramatic context shifts is aping Doctor Who. Indeed, one could readily argue that Everything Everywhere All at Once, which uses the conceit of a multiverse to endlessly iterate upon the same setting and characters, is in fact the precise conceptual inverse of Doctor Who, which would be better described as “everything everywhere in well-differentiated sequence.” Still, there’s something to the comparison—they’re both sci-fi stories operating in a comedy drama register fueled by an ability to take ostentatiously big swings like throwing in a giant talking dog or giving people hot dog fingers. And, obviously, the Vs.

The big difference is simply that Everything Everything All at Once was a massively successful film that romped to a Best Picture win while Flux was, as I believe I may have mentioned at some prior point, unwatchable garbage. Although, of course, those two things are in no way mutually exclusive—just look at Green Book. What’s more notable to say is that Everything Everywhere All at Once was a massively likeable film. Indeed, this was largely key to its success—it was a proper word of mouth hit, emerging from indie powerhouse studio A24 with a slow three week rollout from an initial ten screens up to thirty-eight and finally into wide release, where it sat in the middle of the box office pack for months without ever pulling more than $6m in a single week.

And no wonder. The film is a delight. I already mentioned the hot dog fingers section, but it’s worth stressing just how side-splittingly funny the sequence is—a proper “struggle to breathe from laughing so hard” moment. Or, really, a succession of them. We get a piss joke, Michelle Yeoh offering an absolutely top notch moment of physical comedy as she flaps her hands ineffectually at her daughter, the basic visual gag of the actual hot dog fingers, the line delivery of “she appears to be in a universe where everyone has… hot dogs instead of fingers,” the arrival of Jamie Lee Curtis with manicured hot dog fingers, a 2001: A Space Odyssey parody, and then the visual of the fingers spurting ketchup and mustard all in about ninety seconds of screen time.…

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It’s November 21^st, 2021. Adele and Ed Sheeran remain, but they’re joined this week by Taylor Swift’s ten minute expansion of “All Too Well” along with Sam Fender and Switchotr featuring A1 and J1. In news, Russia nearly fucks up the International Space Station by blowing up a satellite, the UK government ditches large swaths of its high speed rail plans in the north, and the US government passes the Build Back Better Act, a massive post-pandemic spending bill. Alex Jones is found liable for defamation against the parents of Sandy Hook children, while Kyle Rittenhouse is found not liable for murdering people in Wisconsin. Two days later, as this airs, another right-wing terrorist drives an SUV through a Christmas parade in Wisconsin, killing six.

On television, meanwhile, Village of the Angels, which, as the saying goes, if I had a nickel for every time in 2021 the BBC aired a program about Doctor Who and psychic messages sent across time via analog media I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The other time came back in May, when BBC Four aired Delia Derbyshire: The Myths and the Legendary Tapes. This is a strange film—a hybrid of an older short film by director Caroline Catz (who portrays Derbyshire) that has been expanded with a swath of talking heads footage (David Vorhaus, Peter Zinovieff, Madelon Hooykaas, and, most notably for Doctor Who nerds, Brian Hodgson) and a separate thread tracing Throbbing Gristle alumn Cosey Fanni Tutti’s creation of the film’s soundtrack via manipulation of the eponymous legendary tapes—a collection of 267 found in Derbyshire’s attic following her death in 2001 and subsequently housed at the John Ryland library in Manchester. The result is strange, surreal, and ghostlike, which is to say utterly appropriate for a study of Derbyshire.

Catz’s Derbyshire is a sort of frustrated visionary, seeking only, as she explains in her job interview for the Radiophonic Workshop, to “create sounds that have never existed in the world before.” Which, of course, she did, and spectacularly, most obviously with Doctor Who theme, which the film devotes a sizeable chunk of time to.  It starts from Ron Grainer’s scant account of the tune—the film depicts it as a hastily scribbled score and a set of adjectives like “wind bubbles” and directions that it should sound “familiar but different,” and be comparable to the well-funded twenty piece French ensemble Les Structures Sonores. The BBC Radiophonic Workshop, to be clear, is a bunch of low paid weirdos in a basement with a bunch of aging radio equipment. Derbyshire volunteers for this plainly nightmarish job, and, of course, absolutely crushes it.

But what the film does a remarkable job of highlighting is the scale of how she accomplished this, creating individual pieces of tape for each of the notes she wants to use, at times calculating both the setting for her oscillator to produce the note she wants and the amount of tape needed for the duration.…

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It’s November 14th, 2021. Adele ain’t going anywhere on the charts. Neither is Ed Sheeran, but there’s also CKay, Glass Animals, and Arrdee. In news, Britney Spears is released from her conservatorship, a man detonates an IED outside the Liverpool Women’s Hospital, and Dominion Voting Systems sues Fox News for defamation around Donald Trump’s attempted coup.

On television, meanwhile, we have “Once, Upon Time,” an episode Chibnall’s co-executive producer Matt Strevens hyped to Doctor Who Magazine as “very ambitious” saying that “it credits the audience with sophistication and intelligence” whilst comparing it to the output of noted indie film studio A24. No, sorry, I’m kidding, he compares it to Marvel. That’s his actual example of ambitious storytelling—not even the competently upper middle brow stylings of A24, but the fucking Marvel Cinematic Universe. That’s intelligence and sophistication now—cynical IP farms that operate on the premise that everyone is basically just a fifteen year old boy.

Strevens was likely talking about WandaVision, the first show in this particular iteration of the “MCU on television” concept following Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. on generic broadcast television and the Defenders suite on Netflix, both of which were memory-holed in favor of creating headliner content for Disney+, a streaming service we’ll have plenty of time to discuss later in life. That show opened with a trio of episodes dropped over two weeks that presented events in the form of cracked mirror historical sitcoms, starting with a 1950s I Love Lucy pastiche (complete with live studio audience) and moving up through the 1970s before finally revealing its proper conceit. This isn’t that far from “Once, Upon Time,” which sees Whittaker, Gill, and Bishop playing out an adventure that is eventually revealed to have really happened to the Jo Martin Doctor. That flutter of formalist play is neither especially ambitious nor anything like the norm for Marvel, but that’s neither here nor there, and while mocking Strevens for this is both easy and fun, it’s not especially revealing.

The more obvious point of comparison between Doctor Who and Marvel is Loki, which aired its first season just a few months prior to Flux. It’s not entirely fair to say that Loki is “Marvel tries to do Doctor Who,” but the inaccuracy is a matter of degree as opposed to a critique of the underlying association. Certainly Loki is Marvel doing a story about time travel with a mercurial lead who’s played by a British guy who can accurately be described as both “hot” and “a weird little guy.” Which, obviously, Doctor Who isn’t doing that last one in this period, but the point stands. Production on the first season was even disrupted by the pandemic, though Loki was filming in Atlanta under appreciably looser restrictions than a BBC production.

It will of course surprise nobody that Loki is appreciably better than Chibnall-era Doctor Who. It is made by people who can broadly be described as “knowing what they’re doing,” and so possesses things like character arcs and storylines that can accurately be described as being “about” things.…

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