Hey So Protip If You Have Abusive Parents And Need To Get Around The House As Quietly As Possible, Stay

LUKE FUCKING CAGE!!!

‘The Book Thief’ tells the fictional story of a young girl growing up in Nazi Germany in 1939. When the story begins Liesel Meminger cannot read but by stealing an old copy of ‘A Gravedigger’s Handbook’ she convinces her foster father to teach her slowly how to read. Along the way Liesel begins to understand the awful and awesome power of words as a political world built on a dictator’s own words spells death and destruction for millions of people. The story itself is narrated by Death as he travels to and fro from place to place and the entire narrative is spun with a bleak, black sense of humor and sense of human understanding as Death spends his days living in the filth and destruction of wars and murders and, at rare moments, kindness and beauty even at the very end.

The Irony of Chris Chibnall for me is not the fact that he is my favorite television/film writer. A lot of television and film writers are people you can fall in love with. It’s the same with books. Reading specific authors I never tire of Tolkien or Rowling or CS Lewis. I love Gene Roddenberry (of the original Star Trek franchise) and his creativity mixing science with a flair of myth and legend and the wonderings of the yesterday and how the past fit in with the Enterprise’s crew and their respective futures as such.

But Chris Chibnall is just plainly ironic for me.

I’ve only ever really watched things he’s written if they’re tied up in my David Tennant obsession (but really, is that really that impossible?) but starting off I honestly had no idea who Chibnall was. I started off in the Doctor Who franchise and lo and behold my favorite Tenth Doctor episode of Series 3 was ‘42′. I was impressed by the way the writer had written the Doctor so vulnerable and frightened and in such a spot that it fell to Martha, his companion, to do the saving.  It was a surprising and refreshing change from the normally stoic and triumphant Doctor.

Then I watched ‘United’ on Netflix shortly after I’d finished with David’s seasons of DW. United is one of two of my absolute favorite films ever written (and my favorite DT project to date). I love history but I fell in love with United because of the emotions felt throughout it all. It’s a quiet believable movie with terrific acting but most of all believable writing. Chibnall, I feel, makes you love these young boys who nearly all lose their lives in the plane crash that nearly cripples Manchester United. It’s writing perfection in my opinion.

Then I came over to Broadchurch and holy crap I was blown away within fifteen minutes of the first episode. Everything about the show drew me in: the characters, the scenery, the acting, the MUSIC, and of course the writing. Chibnall is able to blend humor and darkness, secular and religious, discovery and heartbreak, and weave them all together to make devastating beauty.

It was only after I had watched all of Broadchurch and had watched United again that I realized all that I had actually seen had been written by the exact same man. The writer I had been so impressed with since the beginning even though I would never have guessed he had written my favorite Tenth Doctor DW episode, favorite movie, and favorite tv show was shown to have written them all after all.

Chris Chibnall impresses me as a writer because he seems to understand humanity and how we work as a species. He can write pain and love and loss and make characters that stand out and stay with us. And of course that’s helped along by the wonderful and talented actors and actresses who play those characters, but it was Chibnall who created/built on them to begin with, and that’s why I love him so much.

It just still makes me laugh at the irony that I would have already loved so many of the projects he had done without ever realizing that he was the one who wrote them.

Perhaps I’m mistaken here, but every time I watch BBC Sherlock all the way through, I feel like the dynamic of Sherlock and John changes between TRF and TEH. Sherlock is still the brilliant detective and John is still the faithful blogger and friend; but it’s their individual reactions to St Barts and the subsequent two years that have changed how they react to one another. 

Sherlock’s still an insufferable prat most of the time, and he still misses social cues 99.9% of the time, but he’s softer around the edges. The way he interacts with Archie, his reactions to James Sholto locked in his hotel room, his MANY little moments with Mary, all reflect on a man who went through hell during his two years away and rather than becoming even more closed off and alienated than normal actually found it hard to be as much of an island as before. His circle of friends is small but he finds it impossible not to be somewhat gentler to them than before Moriarty’s scheme on the rooftop. Or rather, he had come to care for John and Greg and Mrs Hudson a great deal before the rooftop, but Moriarty forced him to actively prove it and once the lid was popped open it was impossible for it to be sealed completely again.

It’s rather like the Twelfth Doctor, who starts out as oblivious to social cues and more of an anti-hero than any Doctor before, a man who is harsh and unforgiving to those who anger him and has absolutely no recognition of friendship or even the desire to hug; who by the end of his tenure and with the help of his companions, whether it be Clara or Bill or Nardole or even Missy, has softened to the point where he even initiates a hug with Bill and Nardole and clearly has no desire to break it. Of course, Sherlock and the Twelfth Doctor are both written by Moffatt, so it’s not so much of a surprise that their dynamics are so similar.

John, on the other hand, grew sharper due to St Barts and the subsequent two years. His anger with Sherlock’s necessary deception is unrelenting and viscous, and it’s clear that even if he forgave Sherlock of it in TEH we can still see its latent existence all too clearly in TLD. He’s a man who fell to pieces once again in the wake of a life-changing tragedy and when he managed to glue himself back together some of the pieces were either missing or more brittle. He has less patience for Sherlock’s actions, he actively confronts Sherlock about the latter’s drug use during TAB, and I will not even get started in on the morgue scene during TLD. (That will be addressed later in another post eventually.) Where Sherlock’s learned response to the two years-hiatus is newfound understanding, John’s is anger, which all culminates in TLD and finds a somewhat solved dynamic in TFP. 

Broadchurch is a story about mothers

Yes, it’s stated and shown that Alec Hardy and Ellie Miller are certainly the main characters, and Alec’s journey is certainly the most obvious storyline in the series, I won’t argue that.

But Broadchurch is a story about mothers.

The series opens up with a shot of Danny Latimer standing on the cliffs and then it cuts to Beth Latimer waking abruptly the next morning. Most of the first episode focuses on Beth and her journey finding Danny’s body, in fact, and her struggle trying to understand the loss of her son is a main focus of the first series. Several scenes in those episodes focus primarily on her:

(Realizing what “finding a body on the beach” might mean.)

(Opening of s1e2, when she’s folding Danny’s clothes.)

(S1e7. “I lay there thinking what would I go through to have him back? I’d be raped, I’d be tortured, I’d have a gang of men on me, I’d be left for dead if it meant [Danny] was safe.” This was Jodie Whittaker’s finest moment, in my opinion. She hits Beth’s desperation and agony right on the head.)

(And of course the moment when she tries to process the fact that it was Joe Miller who killed her son, and all of the fucked-up irony that comes with it.)

There are so many more moments when Beth is the prime example of the Mother Angle that Chibnall approaches but these were the moments when I think it was strongest.

Ellie is another example of mothers in this story. She’s constantly protective of Tom when Hardy pushes to speak to him and take part in the recreation. We all laugh at the moment when Ellie threatens to throw a cup of piss at her boss but the reason WHY she says it in the first place is the clue:

-”I’m his mum, I decide.”

-”Oh, so your commitment to this investigation stops outside these doors.”

Hardy tries to trump her authority over Tom. She explicitly states she doesn’t want her son to take part in the investigation in any way and Hardy keeps on pushing, even insulting her commitment as a police officer.

Don’t push the protective Mama Bear.

Favorite moment of Ellie as Protective-Mama-Bear is s1e8. It’s the moment that bothered me the most when Jocelyn Knight brings it up in s2.

Ellie does confront Joe as a wife, certainly, at the end of s1e8. But again it’s interesting to note exactly what it is that Joe asks that sets her off:

She’s in control enough to only scream at Joe from a distance in the beginning of this scene. It’s only when Joe requests to see Tom that she sets upon him uncontrollably.

Seriously, do not piss off the Protective Mama Bear.

S2 deals with Sandbrook more than it really deals with Broadchurch as a whole, I think, and it definitely focuses more on Alec as a character, but the theme of Mothers is still prevalent in the contrasting images of Cate Gillespie, a drunk and unable to cope with the loss of Pippa; Tess Henchard, Alec’s ex-wife who loves her daughter but is willing to keep her guilty actions a secret so that Daisy won’t hate her; Beth, focused so much on getting closure for Danny she almost forgets about her newborn child (until Mark’s actions shake her out of her obsessive need for ONLY Danny); and then finally Ellie again, warning Joe away from their sons with the threat of death if he dares show up around either Tom or Fred again. It will be very interesting to see what direction Chibnall will go with the Mothers theme in s3.

Everybody likes to poke fun at Midwesterners and our strange slang, but seriously I think it’s hilarious that it never leaves our vocabulary. My aunt has lived in Florida for the past thirty years and she still catches herself saying, “Ope!” when startled, and calling soda “pop”.

It’s been a long time since I’ve watched season 1 of Broadchurch straight though, but man, the Latimer family kills me. Ashamed to say that when I first watched the series Beth got a lot of my attention (not really ashamed, just guilty), and then Mark ripped my heart out in S3, and meanwhile poor Chloe just got shafted to the wayside. Watching the series though again as a whole recently, though, I found myself paying a lot of attention to her.

This is the moment that served to punch me in the gut the first time, but it’s so much worse now in hindsight. She’s a fifteen year old girl who’s just lost her baby brother to a horrific murder, and now on top of that grief she’s overhearing her parents’ marriage falling apart.

And she’s probably thinking that it’s her fault. She got Becca Fisher to confess to the police she was having an affair with Mark to get him off a murder charge, sending her the assurance that ‘no one else needs to know’. But Beth finds out anyway, and Chloe doesn’t know how she does. She likely assumes the police told her, which in her mind paints her as the guilty one in all this, because if she hadn’t told Becca to talk to the police, Beth wouldn’t have found out.

It’s just a sad moment all the way around, and beautifully shot. She’s still a child struggling with her own grief over a dead sibling, but the camera angle shows her isolated. Her parents’ door is closed, obviously because of their argument, but it also shows Chloe’s extreme loneliness in this moment. Is it any wonder why she had a room at Dean’s to help her forget she’s the ‘dead boy’s sister’?

One of my favorite things about Broadchurch is that you always find something new that Chibnall has slipped in that’s a nod to some of the greats of British culture. Thomas Hardy not withstanding, one of my favorite moments actually came in S2, episode 1, when we see Alec being interviewed by Maggie and Ollie. At the point at which she points out the cliffs behind him and that they’re starting to crumble more and slide farther down we see him look behind him. 

We get a good look at the mess of the beach as the camera pans around his shoulder and we get a good glimpse of what it looks like to Alec himself too. What he mutters is that nod to one of England’s poets.

“Things fall apart” is just a small piece quoted from William Butler Yeats’ poem ‘, ‘The Second Coming’, the full stanza reading:

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;    The best lack all conviction, while the worst    Are full of passionate intensity.”

Yeats’s poem alludes to the poet’s belief that history runs in cycles of 2,000 years, and at the end of every cycle a new hierarchy would rule.

But Chibnall cleverly uses this line to show us just where his characters are following Joe’s arrest. Clearly nothing has gotten better. There’s still tension. People who have been best friends for years have had their friendships destroyed. Ellie has been estranged from her home, her town, and even her own son with the blame others have placed upon her.

And being the outsider, Alec can understand and see that perfectly. He’s still obsessed with Sandbrook and solving the case that had to have had split that town open at the seams. The irony of the situation of the cliffs starting to crumble away faster sets the tone of the story and understanding the poem from which Alec quoted is a clue as to how the story will go, I think.

“Mere anarchy” is the center of the storm and the guilty party himself: Joe Miller, and he sets up the whirlwind that threatens to flatten Broadchurch with his ‘not guilty’ plea. He fails to recognize his guilt in Danny’s death and tries to shift it onto others. In some ways he creates anarchy by refusing to stand up to what he has done wrong.

“The blood-dimmed tide” and “ceremony of innocence” can be nods to the victims of Sandbrook, Lisa Newberrie and Pippa Gillespie. Lisa dies with her blood all over the floor of the Ashworths’ home which in turn starts the Sandbrook case itself. For Ricky’s murder of Lisa, his daughter Pippa will pay the price. And of course the ceremony of innocence being “drowned” can only point to one thing:

“The best lack all conviction” can (mostly) be put towards Jocelyn Knight, who in the beginning of the story is apathetic to the trial of Joe and wants no part of the outside world. She’s lost her conviction in the light of her loss of eyesight and although she ultimately decides to take the Latimers’ case she starts it off unsure.

And of course Jocelyn’s hesitation and Mark’s secrets he keeps from the prosecution paves the way for the one who can only be labelled as the “worst with passionate intensity”:

Sharon Bishop really makes me mad. Let me say that.

At the end of the poem Yeats concludes by asking, “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”

The second series ends with Joe’s being found innocent and his banishment from the town but it appears that Ellie warning him away from his own sons is going to come full circle at some point soon.

What rough beast will be born from that?

No joke, after I read Good Omens for the first time, if I ever turned on the radio for a month afterwards I heard a Queen song playing.

Who I see:

Who I think of: