So, in
2007, the world of Doctor Who was
pretty much unstoppable. So much so, in fact, that it became inevitable that
the Longest Running Science Fiction Serial In The World ™ had earned itself a
spin off series – one that would be full of big characters, humour that was too
broad for the parent show, and comparatively easy-to-follow plotlines. But
(you’ve seen this gag coming a mile off, haven’t you) we’re not here today to
talk about Torchwood (that started in
2006): The Sarah Jane Adventures
managed at times throughout its four and a half season to be both deeper and
more thrilling than either of the shows that were apparently more grown up.
By
design, it can’t always be like that, however. Invasion Of The Bane, the pilot episode, necessarily works in broad
strokes. It’ll stay like that for at least the first two episodes of the series
proper (farting slitheen and all) before the style settles down a bit. Older Doctor Who fans who have got lost in CBBC on their way of
some extra Lis Sladen action might wince at the childishness of it all, but a)
the show is absolutely for children, not them, and b) writers Russell T Davies
and Gareth Roberts are doing something pretty clever here – a lot of heavy
lifting to move the central characters into position before the modern day
Nancy Drew style mysteries can start in earnest.
The
other thing that’s important to note about Invasion
Of The Bane is that it’s essentially a Doctor
Who Christmas Day episode. More specifically, it actually aired on New
Year’s Day, but the point remains the same: it’s unashamedly a bit of fluff
that the kids will watch, that the grown ups will have no problem sticking with
before demanding that the channel gets changed. This means that the pace is
zippy, nothing overly complex is being delivered, and the main hook (a fizzy
drink) is going to be more instinctively appealing to teenagers than, say alien
sat-nav.
There’s
not a heck of a lot of plot in Invasion
Of The Bane, and there isn’t even much effort to introduce the titular
character – there’s a fair assumption that you’ll have already heard of Sarah
Jane Smith at some point in the previous 24 years. So, the pilot is more
interested in setting up those fabled ‘audience identification figures’, and in
doing so, Russell T Davies repeats the trick that worked so well for Rose, the first episode of his rebooted Doctor Who: banking on the fairly
certain bet that the boy fans are pretty much guaranteed to turn up anyway, the
lead character – the one who falls out of the real world and into Sarah’s – is
a teen girl.
Maria,
as played by Yasmin Page, is the true anchor of the pilot episode. Again, Invasion Of The Bane is playing the same
game that Rose did: relying that any
audience members who have tuned in for the character whose name is above the
titles will have enough trust and crucially patience to wait for everyone else
to play catch up.
Maria’s
parents are richly portrayed. It’s a subtle thing, but their divorce – while
implicit – isn’t a major plot point – it’s merely the thing that gets that
family onto Bannerman Road. Even sharper is the way that Maria’s mum is
presented: clearly she’s the one who could be blamed for the break up of the marriage;
she’s self centred, blinkered, and possibly not that clever, but nobody –
including her ex husband – thinks of her as the villain. Doubtless there would
be many kids who would recognise something of their own home life in Maria’s.
Kelsey
– Maria’s would be best friend. is a great addition for the pilot. It’s obvious
why they had her in for the set up, equally obvious why she had to be
side-lined for the series. She follows a noble line of characters (of whom
Chloe in 24 is the warrior queen) who
can’t successfully read social cues, and therefore are great for dealing out
wodges of exposition. While the tone of this pilot episode is large, the
performances within are textured and nuanced – and that includes loudmouth
Kelsey. She doesn’t turn up again after this episode, which means that certain
elements of her character never get explored: it’s obvious, for instance, that
she has no close friends, which is why she blusters her way into Maria’s life
(and therefore gives her a bus ride into the plot).
Within
the broad brushstrokes, a pilot episode needs a strong, charismatic guest star
to make everything legitimate (something that perhaps K9 And Company: A Girl’s Best Friend stumbled on). Samantha Bond is
icily brilliant as Mrs Wormwood, and the scene in which Smith and Wormwood
elegantly tiptoe around confirmation (or not) of the latter’s extra-terrestrial
origins (‘Wouldn’t, it though?’ is a real highlight. Elsewhere, teenage zombies
jacked up on energy drinks (‘Drink it!’) and creeping around a smoke filled
factory really invokes mid-70s UNIT stories.
But
why did it have to be a sonic lipstick? This is the character who rocked up in
1973 teaching Jon Pertwee about feminism, plus she’s a journalist. Couldn’t it
at least have been a sonic pen? Or, if you really wanted to appeal to pre-teen
girls, a sonic highlighter? Perhaps we can put it down to the Doctor still not
quite understanding emancipation. Anyway, Sarah’s make up kit is the one
fluffed note in a very strong, extraordinarily confident opener to the series.
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