Why Brits Do TV Right

We know you're all waiting for the Solipsist to weigh in on the Henry Louis Gates kerfuffle. Sorry, keep waiting. Today, it's all about the telly.

This past week, science-fiction (or "SF," never "sci-fi") enthusiasts have enjoyed a veritable feast on BBC America, anchored by the five-part miniseries, "Torchwood: Children of Earth," which began Monday and concluded last night. If you missed it, it will be rerun all afternoon tomorrow. Watch it, and then come back and read today's post so as not to "spoil" things for yourself.

"Children of Earth" once again proves that, when it comes to science-fiction television, the Brits do things right. Sure, America gave us "Star Trek" and "X-Files" and "Battlestar Galactica" and "Lost," but quality SF programs have been few and far between. And even the high-quality shows mentioned above are not uniformly perfect. "X-Files" was actually two shows: on the one hand, a brilliant anthology program featuring intrepid FBI agents investigating the weird and the wacky; and on the other hand, an inane, tedious soap opera revolving around government conspiracies--a soap opera made worse by the fact, obvious in hindsight, that the show's creator had no idea how to resolve it. "Lost" is usually engaging but often incoherent; in any event, we must withhold a final verdict until we see how the series ends, i.e., in a satisfying conclusion or an "X-Files"-like debacle.

But then there are the Brits. First and foremost, there is "Doctor Who" (see post of April 4, 2009), the 40-year-old franchise about a Time Lord who travels the universe saving planets with wit, flair and a minimum of senseless violence (and set your DVR's for "Doctor Who: Planet of the Dead" tomorrow evening). And then there is the subject of today's commentary, the "Doctor Who" spin-off, "Torchwood."

"Torchwood" is about a sort of extra-governmental law-enforcement agency, the Torchwood Institute, established during the reign on Queen Victoria to defend earth from alien incursions. The Institute is led by Captain Jack Harkness (John Barrowman), whom we first met on "Doctor Who," a ridiculously handsome, omni-sexual adventurer who can never die. (Well, to be accurate, he can die; he just can't stay dead. He's killed in virtually every episode, only to revive moments later in what seems a fairly uncomfortable process.) Along with his partners, Gwen Cooper (Eve Myles), a Welsh policewoman, and Ianto Jones (Gareth David-Lloyd), a sort of butler and Jack's current lover, Jack monitors the "rift"--a sort of hole in time and space that runs through Cardiff, through which all manner of extraterrestrial hazards emerge. In "Children of Earth," an alien species known only as "the 4-5-6" (after the radio frequency on which they communicate) comes to earth and demands 10% of the world's children. Failure to do so will result in the extermination of the entire human race.

As the Solipsist watched "Children," we realized that the plot sounded familiar. It reminded us of an American television miniseries, "Storm of the Century" (1999). In this movie, with a screenplay by Stephen King, the tiny town of Little Tall Island is battered by a massive blizzard, during which a menacing figure known as Linoge appears. Linoge, we find out, is a demon, and he has one simple demand: He wants one of the townspeople's children. Linoge explains that he wants an heir, someone whom he can train to carry on his demonic work after he inevitably dies (he's extremely long-lived, but not immortal). If the townsfolk do not agree to give him a child, Linoge will kill ALL the children (there are eight on the island at this time). A fairly tedious moralistic debate breaks out among the townspeople over whether they should willingly sacrifice one of their kids or stand against Linoge and risk all the children's lives.

At this point in the show, the Solipsist talks to the screen: "Um. . . . Just give him the damn kid!" What's the problem here? Linoge makes it very clear that he will not harm the child--quite the opposite, in fact. The child will become a virtual immortal with all kinds of nifty demon powers to boot! Sure, we understand a parent's unwillingness to see their kid become an instrument of evil. But if it's that or DEATH? And death for EVERY child? We see this as kind of a no-brainer. The show wants us to be horrified (as good, moral people should be) at the very thought of handing a child over to evil. The problem is, there's so much evil in the world, there's a good chance a kid will fall prey to it anyway--at least Linoge's heir will be equipped for it.

And then there's "Children of Earth." With the same basic plot device--an evil force wants to make off with children--this show, primarily written by Russell T. Davies, takes us in a much darker direction. First, as mentioned above, we are dealing with 10% of earth's children, not one child from a small Maine town. Second, while Linoge wants an heir, the 4-5-6 want the children for "the hit": They are, in effect, drug addicts, and the drug to which they are addicted is a chemical compound found in pre-pubescent children. And the children aren't killed to extract the chemical: They are hooked into the 4-5-6 and kept alive perpetually while the drug is leached out of them.

On Little Tall Island, the townspeople are basically god-fearing Christians, trying to do what's best for the community. In the London of "Children of Earth," we are in the hands of feckless politicians, who want to save the world but who also want to ensure that they will receive no blame for the decision. (And in terms of dialogue--no offense, Stephen King--the debate between the politicians in "Children" is exponentially more compelling than the corresponding town-hall meeting in "Storm.")

Finally, there is the outcome of both shows (spoiler alert). In "Storm of the Century," a child is ultimately chosen by lot. And while the child's father--unsurprisingly, the one who most vocally wanted to defy Linoge--is distraught, he can hypothetically take some small comfort in the fact that his child survives: He even sees him later on. In "Children" Jack figures out how to stop the 4-5-6; the only problem is, in order to do this, he must directly cause the death of one child. And, through a series of unfortunate events, the only child available is his own grandson. The earth is saved, but Jack watches his own grandson die painfully right in front of his eyes. Oh, and the boy's mother--Jack's daughter--watches the whole thing happen, too.

The purpose of science-fiction--good science-fiction--is to present the audience with a vision of the world as it might be, or as it could be if we're not careful. British science-fiction television presents us with these visions and the moral consequences to which they might lead. Unlike much American television, though, the British give us the morality play without quite so much moralizing. Check it out!

("Torchwood" image from Scifi.co.uk)