Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

Review: The Fury / Cert: 15 / Director: Brian De Palma / Screenplay: John Farris / Starring: Kirk Douglas, John Cassavetes, Carrie Snodgrass, Charles Durning, Amy Irving, Andrew Stevens, Fiona Lewis / Release Date: October 28th

Kirk Douglas, bless his dimple, was really too old at 62 to play the swimming trunk-wearing hero of Brian de Palma’s The Fury, his telekinetic 1978 follow-up to the similarly-themed classic Carrie (1976). But, 35 years on, an old man in his pants is just one of The Fury’s problems…

Kirk plays Peter Sandza, whose son Robin (Stevens) is taken into the care of duplicitous family friend Ben Childress (Cassavetes) after a holiday resort shoot-out orchestrated by Childress to convince Robin that Dad is dead. Robin, possessed of extraordinary psychic abilities, is drafted to carry out secret experiments designed to weaponise psychics. Meanwhile Gillian (Irving) also possesses abilities including ESP and telekinesis and people she touches have the unfortunate tendency to start bleeding profusely. Attending the Paragon Clinic for help in learning how to control her talents, Gillian finds that she is in tune with Robin’s abilities and helps Peter track down his missing son. But nearly a year has passed and Robin has changed into a powerful, dangerous young man.

The Fury’s two storylines – which converge in an explosive and memorable finale – conspire to make the film a slightly schizophrenic experience. It’s also a slightly dull and plodding one; neither story is told with much energy and the film, steeped in the traditions and styles of post-Watergate American thrillers, never seems to get out of first gear or find any sort of momentum. Much of Kirk’s storyline is characterised by extraordinary and illogical incident and Gillian’s marginally more interesting arc just revisits ground De Palma had already covered to better and more horrific effect in Carrie. But then The Fury isn’t really a horror film per se and as a more conventional thriller it gives De Palma the opportunity to demonstrate some impressive stylistic touches, including a particularly effective slow motion foot chase sequence, some disorientating bird’s eye views and slow, dramatic tracking shots. But when the fractured and meandering narrative starts to come together The Fury belatedly finds its feet and there’s no denying that Cassavetes’ lovingly filmed death sequence ends the film with a very literal bang.

The Fury is very much a creature of its time, a worthy but heavy-going 1970s pseudo-conspiracy theory thriller struggling to come to terms with its supernatural affectations. Aficionados will, however, appreciate Arrow’s brilliant restoration and its slew of comprehensive bonus material. 

Extras: Interview with cinematographer Richard H Kline / Fiona Lewis interview / Location Journal feature / Archive interviews / De Palma film tribute / Production images / Commemorative booklet

Review: The Headless Ghost / Cert: PG / Director: Peter Graham Scott / Screenplay: Herman Cohen, Aben Kandel / Starring: Richard Lyon, Liliane Sottane, David Rose, Jack Allen, Clive Revill, Alexander Archdale / Release Date: October 28th

Network has a habit of turning up some real curiosities to release on DVD and The Headless Ghost (1959) is no exception. B-movie producer Herman Cohen earned himself a reputation in the States for knocking out micro-budget classics like Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla (1952) and I Was a Teenage Werewolf (1957). Alright, the “classic” status of the former is more than questionable but the latter made rather a lot of money and is a movie of genuine cultural importance. No, really. Don’t argue; we’re supposed to be experts. We spend an awful lot of time watching these things so you don’t have to. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, Herman Cohen: In the late fifties he came over to Blighty where he continued much as he had in America with such gems as Horrors of the Black Museum (1959) and Konga (1961). Ghost is one of his first British efforts: turned out they needed a movie to go with the colour Black Museum so he knocked out this one pretty quick using some of the same sets in the hope that no one would notice in monochrome. It’s not one of his classics and apparently Herman didn’t like it very much either.  

What we have is a horror-comedy as three teenagers stay after visiting hours at Ambrose Castle to see if the ghost stories are true. The two male teenagers are American so one assumes the movie was aimed at the US market but the girl (Sottane) sports the worst French accent you’ve ever heard until you realise it’s supposed to be Danish. Not being au fait with Danish, we’re not sure if it’s any good or not. She might even actually be Danish because we know nothing of Liliane Sottane and, indeed, very little of the other leads . However, there are a couple of well-known faces with a nice turn from Clive Revill (the voice of the Emperor in The Empire Strikes Back) as one of the ghosts. The ghosts drive the plot as the kids are charged with releasing them from limbo by reuniting a headless one with his head. Might sound interesting but with barely an hour’s running time there isn’t much room for anything too challenging. But the real problem with The Headless Ghost is that it fails to function as either a horror or a comedy. Sottane manages three decent screams: one at a cat, one at a rat and finally a proper one at an inexplicable snake. It’s considerably less frightening than the average episode of Scooby-Doo and, dear lord, if only it was half as funny.

But for all that, it’s an interesting watch; harmlessly likeable and they even manage to get a belly dancer in. If you’re interested in the history of the B-movie you could even call it essential viewing. You might even just about find a climax that involves the heroes using their American football skills to defeat hapless British bobbies bearable. But only just. One for the true connoisseur only. We’re off to watch it again. 

Hang on; Liliane Sottane had a small part in Hammer’s controversial The Camp on Blood Island (1958). Best we could do and we still don’t know where she came from.

Extras: Gallery

Review: Dead of Night / Cert: 15 / Director: Don Taylor, Rodney Bennett, Paul Ciappessoni / Screenplay: Don Taylor, Robert Holmes, John Bowen / Starring: Anna Cropper, Sylvia Kay, Edward Petherbridge, Clive Swift, Peter Barkworth, Anna Massey, Ronald Hines, Julian Holloway / Release date: October 28th

You might not remember that back in 1972 the BBC ran a seven-episode anthology series of horror stories entitled Dead of Night. The title was a homage to the brilliant 1945 movie of the same name (we can’t tell you the confusion that’s caused us) but the series real legacy was that an eighth episode, Nigel Kneale’s The Stone Tape, was broadcast separately and is rather better remembered as one of the BBC’s finest bits of homegrown spookiness. So what about the other seven episodes? Well, in true BBC fashion, four were wiped; but the remaining three have, so it says on the back of the box, been “highly sought by fans” and the BFI are now obliging with this DVD.

Ghost stories and a belief in the supernatural were rather popular in the ’70s. This writer still remembers a friend of his father’s back then; he had just moved into an old house in the country and talked utter cobblers about a mysterious figure coming into his living room each evening. If memory serves, Dad thought he was an attention-seeking idiot but Dead of Night is very much a product of the same period; not only because they’re typical ghostly dramas of the time, but also because you can learn an awful lot about the mindset of the ’70s Brit. They’re pretty slow-paced, so the country house dinner party setting of The Exorcism gives us plenty of time to observe the attitudes of Britain’s pre-Thatcher affluent middle-classes, still wrestling with the socialist consciences of their parents. In fact, without wishing to give too much away, this one turns out to be a political ghost story which, it must be said, is not something you find yourself watching every day. While it manages to be a little creepy, it still pales next to the BBC’s contemporaneous Ghost Stories for Christmas.

Return Flight is certainly the pick of the bunch when it comes to atmosphere. The story concerns an ageing airline pilot (Barkworth) who is the only person to see a mysterious plane in near collision with his own aircraft. Much of this one is predictable when you realise that this was a time when veterans of the Second World War were still working people in regular jobs, not just a dwindling number of old men; the war was a relatively recent memory in the early ’70s. While the episode is satisfying to a point, the ending is ambiguous and frustrating.

Finally, A Woman Sobbing reminds us of a time when bored housewives still existed and anti-depressants were the latest fashionable middle-class addiction. Is that crying from the attic of her (inevitable) country house all in Jane’s mind or is something supernatural afoot? Actually, Jane (Massey) is so insufferable you’ll struggle to care. She doesn’t need the money (nobody in these stories does), so why can’t she go out and do some voluntary work or something? Thank goodness the Janes of this world are something of a rarity today.

Sadly, when you bear in mind that this was something of a golden age for BBC drama, these are not great pieces of television. They’re too ponderous to be effective chillers and the dramatis personae are a bit too self-consciously of the time. We suspect they may have seemed trendy and clever in 1972 but you can certainly understand why the BBC wiped half of them so shortly after broadcast.

Extras: Booklet

Review: Lord of Tears / Cert: TBC / Director: Lawrie Brewster / Screenplay: Sarah Daly / Starring: David Schofield, Alexandra Hulme, Euan Douglas, Jamie Gordon / Release Date: Out Now

While most independent films play it safe and throw in lashings of blood/crazed-killers/zombies, Lord of Tears director Brewster has taken a more classical route of relying on storytelling and atmosphere. Which is not to say it doesn’t have its fair share of flashy visuals and memorable imagery.

School teacher James (Douglas) inherits his old family estate after the death of his mother; not only her humble home but also the mansion he lived in as a child. A letter reveals that he suffered a breakdown while living there, and was moved away to recuperate. All this has been purged from James’ mind, so he takes a trip there in the hope he can make sense of it all. While there, recurring nightmares begin to consume him, and he sees the figure of an Owl Man, whom he apparently became obsessed with as a child. Staying nearby is Evie (Hulme), an American who befriends James and attempts to look after him during his less lucid moments. Delving deeper into his past, he discovers some secrets are best left buried.

The initial selling point for the film, the creepily enigmatic Owl Man, dressed in a dinner suit but sporting an owl’s head and long talons, may lead viewers into thinking this is a monster movie. However, it is instead an engaging, deeply unsettling ghost story. With its roots in the style of The Innocents (1961) and the folk-horror British films of the early ’70s, as well as Japanese horror such as Ringu (1998), Lord of Tears manages to combine haunting imagery with a Lovecraftian mythology which is clearly well researched and based upon existing folklore. Brewster’s confident direction allows the film to develop naturally. It’s a brave move, which ultimately pays off. Kudos must also be given for securing the currently in-demand talents of Schofield, who provides the eloquent voice of the Owl Man, a character which will haunt viewers for years to come.

Full marks go to the way the film is packaged; a CD-sized digipak, packed with bonus features, a separate soundtrack CD (co-composed by writer Daly, which complements the remote setting perfectly) and booklet. All presented in black paper and sealed with an owl’s feather. There is also a 440 page PDF booklet to download which covers all aspects of the film and production.

The film is available to buy now from the Lord of Tears website and screens at the Bram Stoker International Film Festival in Whitby on October 25th.

Extras: See above

Review: My Amityville Horror / Cert: 15 / Director: Eric Walter / Screenplay: Eric Walter / Starring: Daniel Lutz, Laura DiDio / Release Date: October 28th

Everyone knows the story: in December 1975, George Lutz moved his new wife Cathy and her kids into their new home, a house that they bought for just $80,000 thanks to some unsavoury murders which had occurred just over a year before. The rest is cinematic history.

While the on-screen legacy that was spawned from the Lutzes’ lucrative book continues to thrive (thanks to a flurry of films inspired by the tale, including the 1979 original, the 2005 remake and two more recent variations), it’s the question of the tale’s authenticity which has endured the most. Was the house really possessed? Was it just a group hallucination or was it simply a way of cashing in?

It’s not like this hasn’t been covered before. The 2005 DVD release of the original film came with the History Channel’s episodes entitled Amityville: The Haunting and Amityville: Horror or Hoax, both of which went into great detail about the ‘phenomenon’, featuring believers and sceptics alike. The difference here is that we are given access to something quite unique: Daniel Lutz.

To say that Daniel Lutz has been damaged by the events which occurred to him when he was just a boy is a vast understatement. Although that’s not to give weight to his claims. Regardless of whether he was possessed by demonic spirits or just suffering from delusions fuelled by his hatred of his stepfather (or whether he just made the whole thing up), he comes across as being a tortured soul who has had problems keeping his life together since.

Consequently, with Daniel as the main focus, the film is less an exposé of the ‘horror’ itself and more an analysis of the man. Throughout the prolonged, dimly-lit interviews Lutz recounts increasingly outlandish stories, all spoken with complete conviction. These are interspersed with psychologists and people close to the mythology, who discuss possible reasons for Danny’s ‘realistic’ memories. These range from seeing the film to stories he may have heard from his stepfather.

While some of the first-hand revelations are interesting, it can’t stop this documentary from being unutterably dull. It’s conceivable that director Eric Walter (who also made Amityville: The Final Testament featuring Ronald DeFeo, the man who murdered his family at the house in 1974) was seeking to make something creepy and groundbreaking here. Instead what we have is a rehash of a story told far too many times already and a sad look at a man who comes across as being delusional and broken. In seeking to unravel a story of one man cashing in on a crazy horror story, Walter has done exactly that himself.  

Extras: None

Review: Snowflake, the White Gorilla / Cert: U / Director: Andrés G. Schaer / Screenplay: Amèlia Mora, Albert Val / Starring: David Spade, Ariana Grande, Jennette McCurdy, Elsa Pataky, Nathan Kress, K. Stoink, Keith Davis, Christopher Lloyd, Pere Ponce / Release Date: Out Now

Snowflake, the White Gorilla almost certainly passed you by because, as far as we can tell, it never got a UK release in cinemas or on DVD. All of which makes it something of a surprise for it to suddenly turn up on Blu-ray. It’s a Spanish children’s movie based on the true story of Snowflake, the world’s only known albino gorilla who spent most of his life as the most popular attraction of Barcelona Zoo until his death in 2003. The film is a mixture of CGI (for the animals) and live action (for the humans) but is, somewhat confusingly, dubbed into English. This is fine for the CGI’d critters but jars next to the badly lip-synched humans. It also means that when you see David Spade (Saturday Night Live, Rules of Engagement) heading the cast it comes as no surprise that he’s voicing a comedy Red Panda (that thinks it’s a cat), but it’s odd to hear Christopher Lloyd (you know who he is) dubbing Spanish star Pere Ponce. Well, we think he’s a star in Spain; we’re quite prepared to be told they’ve never heard of him either but he’s got a lengthy IMDb entry of Spanish things.

If you can get over all this vocal anarchy then what we have is a rather nice-looking movie, which probably explains its appearance on Blu-ray. Not the best CGI you’ll see but just rather aesthetically pleasing; probably because it’s somewhat surprisingly set in 1966. You see that’s when the real Snowflake was discovered , when his familial group were all shot dead in Equatorial Guinea simply to capture this apparently unique specimen. Although glossed over a bit, this fact is somewhat surprisingly included in the film. So after attending to this historical detail, quite why the film decides to make the male Snowflake into a girl is anyone’s guess. Mind you, the real Snowflake didn’t talk, seldom escaped from the zoo and almost never met any witches either, so perhaps we’re being churlish.

The plot involves Snowflake being rejected by the Daily Mail-reading patriarch gorilla at the zoo because of her being different . Snowflake escapes to find a way to become normal but in the end discovers that it’s better to be yourself and that sometimes that means being different. Fantastic message for the kids and this film is definitely one for just the kids. There’s nothing here for the adults other than something to keep children entertained. David Spade is probably there for the adult laughs but he’s not actually funny. The rest of the humour is slapstick, although it’s occasionally quite good slapstick. This writer bribed his nine-year old son to watch it and despite a lack of early enthusiasm he described it as “good” and “fun”. But then again, he’s too young to be irritated by apparently ’60s children saying “awesome” rather too often.

So not actually a terrible movie but we can’t recommend it to a grown-up audience. Not unless you’re a fan of Elsa Pataky and want to see her playing a witch. You are? You do? Sorry, we should have mentioned that right at the top. That may be all you need to know.

Extras: None

Review: Return to Scatterbrook – Memories of Worzel / Cert: E / Director: Derek Pykett / Screenplay: Derek Pykett / Starring: Jon Pertwee, Geoffrey Bayldon, Lorraine Chase / Release Date: Out Now

Kiddies back in the ’70s who were fans of Jon Pertwee’s dapper, dandyish Doctor must have had a bit of a shock when, for his next big TV role, he donned muddy rags, a straw wig and a turnip nose to play the part of the kindly scarecrow, Worzel Gummidge. But in fact, it was a chance for Pertwee to return to the sort of whiskery, comical grotesques that had been his bread and butter for years in Carry On films and the like. And the show was a reasonable success, running for four series from 1979.

This feature-length documentary takes the viewer methodically through the development of Worzel Gummidge (from what was originally a film script by Keith Waterhouse and Willis Hall, based on the children’s novel by Barbara Euphan Todd), through the casting process, and then the happy days of location-shooting in Hampshire in invariably sunny weather that became known to the cast and crew as “Worzel summers”. We hear from some of the key behind-the-scenes talent and from several of the actors, including Lorraine Chase and the venerable Geoffrey Bayldon, and there’s some rather blurry archive video of Pertwee being interviewed backstage in a dressing room with a quart bottle of whisky at his elbow. Sadly, there are no actual clips of the show, but the whole thing is enlivened with a wealth of continuity shots and design sketches.

Along the way, you pick up plenty of interesting nuggets – the fact, for instance, that the dog who played Ratter in the first series was replaced in the second one because its owners wanted too much money (and, we can only assume, all sorts of stringent riders about regular walkies and tummy ticklings and heaps of nice, chewy bones). Some of the actors’ reminiscences go on a bit, but overall this is entertaining stuff.

There’s also an interesting extra in the shape of a 16-minute home video recording from 1996 of Pertwee appearing in front of an appreciative audience, sharing polished anecdotes of his theatrical forebears, his apprenticeship in variety and one very funny story about Roger Moore in rehearsals for the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical, Aspects of Love. Only a passing mention of Who and Worzel Gummidge though – you can’t help but wonder whether the bits of the talk dealing with these topics, if they ever existed, have been flogged elsewhere. The picture quality here is actually pretty good. Elsewhere, variable audio tends to be the problem, with occasional off-screen noise, and Starburst found that the DVD wanted to play in a rather annoying windowbox aspect ratio. But with money raised from sales of the disc going to charity, it seems churlish to dwell on such flaws in what is otherwise a very worthwhile exercise in nostalgia.

Extras: An evening with Jon Pertwee / Worzel picture gallery

Review: Upstream Colour / Cert: 12 / Director: Shane Carruth / Screenplay: Shane Carruth / Starring: Shane Carruth, Amy Seimetz, Andrew Sensenig, Thiago Martins / Release Date: December 30th

Shane Carruth’s follow-up to the complex Primer doesn’t go easy on any audience refusing to approach the film with an open mind.

Upstream Colour starts with a woman called Kris (Seimetz) being drugged with a parasite that alters her mental state. This makes her highly suggestible and vulnerable to the man who drugged her (Martins), who systematically robs her of her life savings through a series of carefully plotted distractions and instructions.

She later meets Jeff (Carruth), a man who reveals himself to be equally damaged. They connect on such a level that they begin to remember each other’s childhood memories and feel each other’s pain. As the two rebuild their lives, they struggle to come to terms with and understand what has happened. Meanwhile, a pig farmer (Sensenig) searches for the parasites and the victims, using a range of infrasonic sounds that attracts them.

It’s no surprise that Upstream Colour is somewhat perplexing. Beautifully shot and mesmerising, it focuses on exploring its themes and imagery rather than delivering the sort of cohesive and satisfying narrative favoured by the mainstream. Sound plays an important part in the film, and there are several edits and repeated camera shots from different angles, often drawing attention to the seemingly small details of facial expressions and hand gestures, all of which contribute to the film’s unique ambience. The cycle of the parasite is explored along with the connections between the main characters and the consequences of their actions.

There is something of a conclusion, and while the lack of answers and explanation given can be frustrating, the film is mesmerising enough to carry the viewer through.

Extras: TBC

Review: World War Z / Cert:15 / Director: Marc Forster / Screenplay: Matthew Michael Carnahan, Drew Goddard, Damon Lindelof / Starring: Brad Pitt, Mirielle Enos, James Badge Dale, Matthew Fox, David Morse, Danielle Kersetz, Peter Capaldi / Release Date: October 21st

World War Z is a breathless, high-octane action movie, and Hollywood’s first proper attempt at a big, multiplex-pleasing zombie apocalypse film. Whilst it eases up on the viscera and gore so typical of the genre in favour of a family-friendly certificate (although the ‘extended action’ Blu-ray edition adds a bit of welcome red to the proceedings), there’s one moment of true horror, a scene of such gratuitous stomach-churning unpleasantness you’ll be wondering if, this time, they really have gone too far. It’s around 2.17 minutes in; midway through the opening credits… a big, fat close-up of Piers Morgan pontificating in some random imaginary TV broadcast or other. It’s not big, it’s not clever and it’s entirely unnecessary. Don’t do it again, Tinseltown.

Once the bile has died down we can begin to appreciate what a clever and occasionally daring film World War Z actually is. Its production problems and ever-drifting release dates have been well documented and fans of Max Brooks’ novel, the ‘oral history of the zombie war’ are probably right to be frustrated that so many liberties were taken with their sacred text. But World War Z emerges from the chaos of its creation as its own beast, the zombie genre reinvented as an adrenalin-fuelled summer blockbuster movie where the emphasis is on true spectacle, a string of jaw-dropping set-pieces which explode onto the screen with such regularity and such intensity that we’re rarely given a moment to worry about the linear nature of the plot and the paper-thin characters propelling it.

Family man Gerry Lane (Pitt) is enjoying quality time with his wife and cheery nippers when the balloon goes up. We’re only just starting to feel nauseous from the unremitting niceness of the family when they’re caught in traffic in Philadelphia (looking remarkably like Glasgow) and all Hell breaks loose when the streets are suddenly overwhelmed by ferocious, snarling creatures which begin bloodlessly tearing everyone to pieces. Gerry, a former UN employee (luckily) gets his family to safety (obviously) and is quickly drafted back into service to try to find the source of the viral outbreak in the hope of being able to create a vaccine to counteract its effects. Leaving his family safely behind Gerry sets off across the globe, stopping off in South Korea, Jerusalem and… um… Cardiff.

Many brows were understandably furrowed when Marc Forster was chosen to direct World War Z – it’s unlikely he’ll be soon forgiven for badly ballsing-up Bond in Quantum of Solace – but he’s turned this potential cinematic car crash into one of the most energizing experiences of the year. World War Z just doesn’t let up the pace until, intriguingly – and rather intelligently – the very end. Forster’s zombies, the extremely fast-moving kind, are depicted not as supernatural undead monsters but as a massive force of nature, an unstoppable living tide, which sweeps across and tears apart all before it. The gut-wrenching first attack is followed by more intimate battles as Gerry and his family flee for safety and then a darker, intense sequence in South Korea. But the film’s real money shot is set in Jerusalem, walled off against the outside world and with the population safely tucked away inside. Hair-raising stuff as the zombies, like a swarm of ants, climb and roll over each other to surge over the wall and devastate the city. It’s genuinely extraordinary stuff, a triumph of visual FX married to stylish, powerhouse direction which wrings every last thrill from scenes both of mass carnage and one-on-one combat as Gerry and Israeli soldier Segen (Kersetz) battle to reach an ill-fated commercial airliner on its way out of the city.

It’s a scene which is impossible to top, of course, and Forster doesn’t even try. Limping to a World Health Organisation facility in Wales (where they encounter new Doctor Who Peter Capaldi playing, amusingly, a WHO doctor), Gerry tests out his theory that the zombies won’t attack anyone with an illness or disability by injecting himself with a pathogen and throwing himself into the path of the facility’s diseased staff. Beautifully understated and low key, it’s a finale that works precisely because it’s absolutely not what Hollywood has taught us to expect. Gerry is reunited with his family and mankind’s fighting back and the movie ends on a note of hope not only for the future of the human race but also for a sequel which Paramount have now given the thumb-up to thanks to the unexpectedly healthy box office of World War Z.

Well deserved too. It’s a film which somehow overcame its not-inconsiderable production difficulties and, if not quite dramatising the popular book it was based on, managed to subvert not only the basic tenets of the summer ‘event’ movie but also all those derivative zombie movies which came before it. Not so much World War Z as World War A+.

Extras: Origins feature / Looking to Science / Production futurities

Review: Doctor Who – The Complete Seventh Season /Cert: 12 / Director: Various / Screenplay: Steven Moffatt, Chris Chibnall, Neil Cross, Neil Gaiman, Mark Gatiss, Toby Whithouse, Stephen Thompson / Starring: Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill, Jenna-Louise Coleman, Alex Kingston / Release Date: October 28th

Previously released on DVD/Blu-ray in an haphazard a fashion as they were originally screened on TV, the fourteen episodes which purport to be the seventh season of ‘new’ Doctor Who with the stray 2011 Christmas special thrown in for the sake of completion arrive on the best presented DVD/Blu-ray set of the Matt Smith era. The irony, of course, is that the episodes it contains are the scrappiest and most infuriatingly uneven run of episodes since the show returned in 2005. This is Doctor Who at its most schizophrenic and undisciplined, a series of stories which try to sell themselves as big, bold ‘movie poster’ adventures which, in doing so, jettison any pretence at coherent storytelling and pay only lip service to the show’s new-found traditions of character development and emotional heart. Season 7 is all over the place but, as is so often the case, there’s something for everyone here even if it’s not all quite as exciting or successful as we might have hoped or expected.

Kicking off disc one (of five) is the 2011 Christmas special The Doctor, the Widow and the Wardrobe, a story so painfully dull, boring and bereft of excitement it’s a mystery how the cast and crew managed to stay awake whilst filming it. Moving swiftly on to season seven itself and we find a string of episodes which are at best patchily enjoyable (apart from Mark Gatiss’s gloriously inventive Crimson Horror from the tail end of the season) and occasionally right up there with the very worst the series has ever produced. No one needs episodes as irritating or ill-advised as Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, The Rings of Akhaten or, surprisingly, Neil Gaiman’s Nightmare in Silver in their lives. Chris Chibnall, now the darling of the chattering classes thanks to Broadchurch, redeems himself after the dire dinosaur escapade with the more enjoyable, if no less manic, Power of Three that reintroduces the Doctor’s UNIT chums but throws away a decent scenario (Earth ’invaded’ by black cubes) with a ludicrous and hurried denouement. Mark Gatiss’ first script for the season, Cold War, successfully brings back classic monsters the Ice Warriors in a story far too rushed to make the most of its base-under-siege scenario (and, drearily, turns the reptilian Ice Warriors into suits of armour for something living inside… Daleks, anyone?).

Frustratingly the whole series is characterised by a lack of real invention. The ‘movie poster’ idea just tricks the writers into writing ‘movie poster’ stories; Toby Whithouse’s Western yarn Town Called Mercy regurgitates all the familiar Wild West clichés but doesn’t do anything interesting with them and Steve Thompson’s Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS has the audacity to actually resolve itself with a big reset button after forty-odd minutes trudging around dreary TARDIS corridors. Showrunner Steven Moffat’s own efforts continue his obsession with rewriting Doctor Who lore and refashioning the Doctor’s character into something it doesn‘t need to be. The disappointing Asylum of the Daleks ends with the Doctor’s oldest enemies forgetting all about him, The Bells of St John does nothing new with the interesting idea of aliens invading Earth’s wi-fi network and a vague story arc concerning old enemy the Great Intelligence (from the recently recovered 1967 Troughton serial Web of Fear) makes little or no sense when it attempts to resolve itself in the bloated, fan boy-pleasing finale Name of the Doctor.

The season does, thankfully, finally rid us of the whining Amy Pond (Gillan) and her sappy husband Rory (Darvill) in The Angels Take Manhattan but their ‘heartbreaking’ finale fails to satisfy as, inevitably, it doesn’t make much sense. New girl Clara (Coleman) is a pleasing new presence aboard the TARDIS but once again Moffat has chosen to give her a convoluted and obscure backstory – she’s ‘The Impossible Girl’ (of course she is, Steven…but can’t she just be a girl??) whose raison d’etre, ludicrously, is to be splintered throughout time and retconned into every previous Doctor Who adventure. No thanks. Coleman’s a chirpy talent but Moffat’s inability to write compelling, likeable characters who don’t speak in a constant gabble of snarky quips and one-liners renders her pretty much a blank page. The biggest tragedy of this underpowered season, now we know it’s Matt Smith’s last, is that the young actor never really got the chance to shine and show what he might be really capable off, shackled by the ‘madman in a box’ persona foisted on him by his showrunner which led him to portray the Doctor as a tiresome hyperactive clown unable to control his own limbs. Smith, a fine actor and a great and enthusiastic ambassador for the show, has been badly served by his time on the series and Season 7 gives him precious little opportunity to shine. But then maybe we’ve been here before… Season 7 is severely uneven and disappointing stuff and it doesn’t bode well for Doctor Who as it hits the big 5-0 and gears up for a new era with a new actor but, sadly, the same showrunner…

Extras: Much of the more substantial bonus material is aimed at – and generated by – the American market but there are interesting features on the show’s dalliances with America, a Comic Con feature, a Companions feature, all the online prequels and a few entirely disposable – and, in the case of ‘Rain Gods’, perfectly detestable – ‘special’ unseen minisodes. Each episode gets a brief ‘behind the scenes’ snippet and there are handful of commentaries.