Touch Wood: The Journey Begins
a fannish love-in of Torchwood S3 by cupidsbow
Have I ever blogged my reaction to the canon of one of my fandoms before? Live? As it happens? I don't think so, largely because I've tended to be out of synch -- watching long after the party is over... or long before there were blogs. :)
But I bloody well intend to be in synch this time! So let's get this party started.
Today's Episode: The radio play Asylum by Anita Sullivan, which you can download here until the 7th July.
Review: I'm going to blog my reactions as I listen... [S3 SPOILERS -- scroll down to /SPOILERS]
Typical start. Oh, a dog walker... nice. Except, I've read that in fic and done better. I hope that isn't going to be a refrain.
Ahahaha. Jack and Ianto commandeer a motorbike.
So, this is largely a Gwen and Andy episode. I normally like Andy a lot, but all he gets to do in the first half of this is be incredulous and xenophobic -- there are hardly any of his usual zingers either. The Rift-victim of the week isn't bad, but the mystery of where she's from and why she's in Cardiff isn't particularly gripping. Gwen is in reasonable form -- very earnest, but she passes the Bechdel test, which is always enjoyable.
Oh, sucks. The "action" sequence is based on Jack being an idiot, and it's not even clever or funny stupidity. And he's out of character. *sigh* Also, Andy suddenly backflips on the xenophobia and becomes the main character. Wot?
30 minutes in: what a shame. The plot is weak, and I don't see it suddenly improving in a brilliant denouement. *minutes go by* Oh, yeah. The final twist? It's a science fiction cliche (and one of my faves, actually) that's done very clumsily. For shame, Torchwood, you should be better at the timey wimey than this!
Hahahaha. Oh, Ianto. At least you are in character and give good zing! For the three scenes you're in. But why, why, why is Jack so out of character? Seriously, Writer, you have him arguing against alien love-festing????? NOOOO! *cries tears of fannish anguish* Why is no-one checking him for alien possession or something? Ianto? Anybody?
*listens to the non-ending in disbelief*
Well then. That was extremely ordinary. [/SPOILERS] The verdict: Don't waste your time unless you're a hardcore fan.
Extras: You can find the S3 publicity stills here, including the "flying" Gwen and Ianto shots. These please me immensely.
Fannish Stuff: No celebration of a show is really complete without some fannish riffing. Which means... It's songvid time!
TW Jack/Ianto, 'Rescue' by cb_eaglemaniac aka Alanna (PG-13)
This vid is a) gorgeously made, and b) has the angst taken to eleven. Angsty Ianto is kind of a Thing in TW fandom. Celebrate it, I say!
TW Tosh/Mary, 'Steady as She Goes' by kuwdora (PG-13)
*sniffles* This is a brilliant Tosh vid. God, I miss Tosh. She can come back due to Alt Timelines or ghostliness any time!
Cathy Says: Today's bonus Torchwood moment is from one of the chats I had with Hope this month. Tomorrow, I think the bonus may be haiku-flavoured. Please feel free to prompt me in comments -- anything Torchwood themed, any pairing, any rating. Let your imaginations run riot, and I shall endeavour to haiku it. :)
cupidsbow: I bet Ianto could catch a fish with his bare hands and prepare it, and it would be delicious.
hope: In fact he does, from the Rift pool.
cupidsbow: Yep. Ianto stocks the Rift pool with fish for pteradon snacks and occasionally makes himself sushi from them.
hope: For some reason or other, they're in lock down, and everyone is like "OH NOES AND BEFORE THE PIZZA DELIVERY EVEN GOT HERE WE'RE DOOOMED!"
hope: And then they hear this crackling sound and they turn around and Ianto is manning a BBQ in a "kiss the butler" apron.
cupidsbow: Heee. With grilled alien veges from the greenhouse. And maybe some BBQ Sauce and a stock of "mystery condiments" that Ianto keeps in a secret stash in cryo.
hope: Indeed. And then they're like, "WELL THAT'S SOLVED BUT WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO NOW, JACK? JACK?" and they turn around and Jack is on a banana lounge wearing nothing but floral speedoes.
cupidsbow: Jack would be drinking something froofy out of a coconut.
hope: Of course.
cupidsbow: He and Ianto would be all, "I put the pool chair in the storeroom, can you get it out?" and "I'll just open the skylight, shall I?" and it's blindingly obvious that this is how they spend their rare weekends off.
hope: Ahahah. Oh, so sad and yet so awesome.
cupidsbow: I know. Oh, them. And the team would be fascinated and horrified by the bizarre mix of domestic and Torchwood -- Ianto playing fetch with Myfanwy, while checking the Rift Alert Monitor; Jack mooching around in his speedoes and actually cleaning the BBQ with zest and familiarity without Ianto even saying anything, and then throwing the fish heads to Janet.
hope: Ianto would even let Jack make the cocktails because Jack likes shaking the mixer.
cupidsbow: Yeah, and they are all froofy and non-alcoholic.
hope: And yet, before they know it, the team are doing a conga line around the gangways.
cupidsbow: And Ianto has a whole collection of umbrellas and novelty toys hidden in a special drawer just so Jack can make silly drinks for them both.
cupidsbow: Also, I bet they've recorded, "The best of the Rift" and it's a kind of techno remix track of the different blerps and alerts that have happened, and it sounds remarkably like "It's raining men" put through a Russian translator.
hope: Ahahahahahaha! Not a coincidence.
cupidsbow: Indeed. I bet Jack can press his wrist-strap, and the Rift alert starts flashing like a mirorball. Torchwood: the ultimate gay disco for two.
hope: Or more!
cupidsbow: Yes, it's amazing how well froofy drinks hide the taste of retcon.
hope: I am reading this Jack/Chewie fic.
cupidsbow: I love that fic.
hope: There needs to be more of Jack shagging everyone in the universe.
cupidsbow: I love fics in which Jack seduces improbable people, with just a grin and that silver tongue of his. I bet if he and Ianto travelled, Ianto would become a total enabler, just to watch him in action.
hope: Oh yes. And also, get Jack to do all the hard work.