Category: Technology

The following includes spoilers for “The Devil’s Chord.”

For a show about time (and space) travel interwoven with British pop culture since its start in 1963, a trip to visit the Beatles is an obvious premise. So obvious that this is the second time we’ve had a “what if” episode hinging on the Fab Four’s cultural impact. After all, both the Beatles and Doctor Who became global cultural exports as Britain flexed its post-imperial soft power. But while there’s plenty of material to mine in that premise, this isn’t an episode that’s interested in doing that, relegating the Beatles to little more than window dressing.

This has always been a trick in Doctor Who’s toolbox, especially when Russell T. Davies is in charge. He loves dangling an idea, or eye-catching visual, to lure in an audience before moving the focus to something else. I’m reminded of the kung-fu monks from “Tooth and Claw” which looked great in the trailers but had no real impact on the story. It’s “Tooth and Claw” that “The Devil’s Chord” feels similar to — an early season one episode that doesn’t quite work in and of itself, but does spend a lot of its time gesturing to this year’s recurring themes. (FilmStories reported from a recent Q&A, where Davies said that this episode lacked a central plot and was, instead, “Just some subplots.”)

But to understand that, and my stance, we’re going to have to take a little look at The Context before we get to examining the meat. You see, during its history, Doctor Who has bent itself to fit the vision of its primary creative figure and Davies is a voracious watcher of TV. He’s obsessed with the form and format of TV as much as its content, and this is reflected in his work. His episodes often develop with news reports, CCTV clips and deeper forms of exposition revealed through screens. “Bad Wolf” is a great example, where the show lands at a TV studio that’s making sci-fi versions of the then-current pantheon of British reality TV.

Davies also trusts his audience to instinctively know the unspoken rules of TV even if they can’t name them. Which is why I think it’s worth looking at “The Devil’s Chord” as an episode that is, for want of a better phrase, collapsing in on itself. When Mrs. Flood talks to the camera at the end of “Church on Ruby Road,” it felt Deliberately Wrong, especially after she was seemingly unaware of the TARDIS earlier in the episode. Here, the numerous fourth wall breaks and lapses in storytelling are similarly an intentional sign of How Wrong Things Are. What starts out as a by-the-numbers celebrity historical quickly collapses into a fever dream like Sam Lowry’s descent into madness at the end of Brazil.

We open in a concert hall in 1925 as a teacher outlines the basics of music theory for a young child. He shows off that he has “discovered” The Devil’s Chord and, by playing it, unleashes Maestro (Jinkx Monsoon), the embodiment of music. Maestro is a godlike elemental force and a child of the Toymaker – featured villain of the 60th Anniversary special episode “The Giggle.” After praising the musician for their genius, Maestro then sucks the music out of their heart and eats it like cotton candy before staring into the camera and playing the show’s theme tune on the piano.

When the titles end (notice the theme is playing out of the jukebox) it’s clear Ruby has been on the TARDIS for some time. She asks the Doctor if it would be possible to visit the recording of the Beatles’ first album at the EMI’s studios on Abbey Road. Before they open the doors, she asks if it might be worth them changing into less conspicuously modern clothes and they spring off to sample the delights of the TARDIS wardrobe, complete with a wig for the Doctor.

The pair sneak into George Martin’s producer’s booth but quickly spot something is wrong with the scene in front of them. Rather than playing any of Please Please Me’s big and recognizable hits, they’re turning out mop-top music about animals. The Doctor doesn’t know it yet but Maestro has spent the last few decades swallowing all of the music out of people’s hearts. It’s a genius way to get around the fact that, even with all the cash thrown at Get Back and Disney’s vast bank balance, Doctor Who still can’t readily afford to license Beatles songs.

Next door, (famous British singer / TV presenter / notorious diva) Cilla Black is similarly stricken with a case of the muzaks while a concert orchestra is just about mustering a version of Three Blind Mice. The Doctor and Ruby head to the canteen to corner John and Paul to try and find out what went wrong with history. They then head to the roof with a piano, where Ruby plays a tune she wrote to help a friend get over a breakup. But once the Doctor hears Maestro’s giggle, he sprints away, hiding in a nearby basement.

The Doctor explains that any villain who laughs is tied to the Toymaker and is a sign of the fractured universe. Fighting the Toymaker in “The Giggle” was sufficiently draining and difficult, especially given how powerful these elemental forces are, that he doesn’t want to do it again. Maestro is hunting for them, but the Doctor uses his sonic screwdriver to kill all of the sound in the area. (The Doctor knows just enough about how the form and format of TV works to turn the tables on their opponent.) Maestro works out how to undo the blocking – with some magnificent sound editing — but is then distracted from their pursuit of the Doctor by an older woman Ruby had inspired to play the piano.

The eagle-eyed among you will notice that this is the second time in two episodes that Ruby has inspired another person to be bold to their detriment. Her words were enough to encourage Eric to try and take on the bogeyman single-handed in “Space Babies,” nearly imperiling him. The older woman isn’t so lucky and gets consumed by Maestro

Because of how long Doctor Who has run, it’s often its own source material. Ruby, once they’ve escaped, assumes that everything is okay because she recalls listening to music as a child and so therefore Maestro can’t have won. So, in a scene pulled from “Pyramids of Mars,” the Doctor takes her to 2024 in the TARDIS to show the wreckage of the alternate future. Because while she’s protected from the ravages of continuity by the fact she’s traveling through time, the rest of the universe isn’t so lucky.

But this flash-forward, in an echo of the meeting with the Toymaker, flips from a visage of a bombed-out London to a stagey set. Maestro arrives behind a white piano to outline their plan to rid the universe of music, leaving just the aeolian tones of the wind brushing against objects. But the Doctor says that a universe without music, unable to express joy or anger through art, turns sour and destroys itself. It’s a feeling I can relate to — like when love becomes so painful in its absence that you’d rather disappear into the void than keep going on. Davies is also a nihilist so many of his episodes have revolved around the dark face of humanity that reveals itself when denied Earthly pleasures.

Escaping back to the ‘60s, the Doctor and Ruby meet Maestro and find the walls of reality are collapsing. Murray Gold’s swirling soundtrack isn’t just the background music, it’s bled into the fabric of the show itself. The Doctor and Ruby start trying to find a chord that will bind Maestro with the Mrs. Mills piano, a (real) fixture of Abbey Road’s studio. As they play, the notes are rendered floating over the piano, but the pair fail to identify the final note before Maestro turns up.

Maestro begins attacking, throwing around musical scores as weapons and hurling the piano into the hall. It’s here that the episode’s coherence starts to sag, the scenes get longer and odder, a wonky version of a standard monster-of-the-week TV show conclusion. The tension builds, and all looks lost, until John and Paul stumble upon the piano in the hallway. They’re able to see the notes hanging in the air over the piano and with their, uh, innate musical nous, and complete the chord to bind the villain. But before they’re whisked away, Maestro has time to reveal they aren’t the only one of the Toymaker’s minions coming, and “the one who waits” is lurking in the background.

Out of nowhere, the episode ends with a big musical number that features the cast dancing through the Abbey Road sets, delighted at the return of music. Even the steps of the road crossing light up as the Doctor and Ruby cut a rug across them. I can’t work out if it’s simply an indulgent sequence, or another big sign that the show’s structure is breaking down. That the Doctor and Ruby are blind to the apparent Wrongness of it all hints at the latter, especially given the deeper context of the song’s title — see below.

There are other signs that Doctor Who is collapsing into its own TV series, including the casting decisions. The older woman who plays the piano is June Hudson, the show’s costume designer from 1978 to 1980 — who famously redesigned the fourth Doctor’s costume. The musician at the piano during the dance number is Murray Gold, while the figures the Doctor and Ruby dance with at the end are Strictly Come Dancing stars Shirley Ballas and Johannes Radebe. Maybe the big nemesis haunting the series will be some form that could threaten its existence as a TV show itself.

It’s worth saying that Doctor Who has an uneasy relationship with “big” villain performances which can turn hard into hamminess. But Jinkx Monsoon manages to pitch Maestro as just big and flamboyant enough to steal every scene they’re in, but never too silly. It’s also the right side of charming and magnetic, and while they don’t have anywhere near enough time to properly face off against Ncuti Gatwa’s Doctor, it’s still a great match-up.

The problem of Susan Twist

As much as I don’t want to get into the weeds here, it’s possible this stuff is going to come up later that I need to flag it. Doctor Who has been running for more than 60 years with a revolving door of creative figures who paid little-to-no attention to consistency. A convenient way to justify these is by suggesting time travel, by its very nature, would always mess up your personal history. But, in latter days, the show has often preferred to overlook the thornier parts of its backstory, like the existence of the Doctor’s granddaughter, Susan.

When the show started, the Doctor was joined on his adventures by Susan and a pair of teachers who followed her home one night. Long before any mention of Time Lords or Gallifrey, she was just the kid figure who often wound up needing rescuing. Then, in “The Dalek Invasion of Earth,” the Doctor exiles her to 22nd century Earth because she wants to kiss a boy. His goodbye speech has been long since de-contextualized and made to sound noble. But it is essentially him going “yeah, you’re interested in boys now, so you go make babies (eww babies) and stay here while I go off running around the universe.” Yes, it is a bit yikes.

This ties in with a small body of writing about this trope in children’s literature about the way female characters are treated when reaching adulthood. In combination with a sexual awakening, this is often used as justification to dump them out of the narrative. It’s even called “The Problem of Susan,” albeit named after Neil Gaiman’s rebuttal of what happens to Susan at the end of The Chronicles of Narnia. If you’d like to learn more, you can read Elizabeth Sandifer’s essay on “The Dalek Invasion of Earth” which talks about this in some detail.

Why is this relevant? Because when Davies’ returned to Doctor Who, he cast the same actress in two different episodes. Susan Twist played Mrs. Merridew in “Wild Blue Yonder” and was seen again in “The Church on Ruby Road,” which sent keen-eyed fans into a frenzy. She pops up here as a tea lady and, on the roof of Abbey Road; the Doctor even talks about the fact another of his incarnations is living in Shoreditch in 1963 with his granddaughter. That the episode ends with a musical number called “There’s always a Twist at the end” with Ncuti Gatwa winking to camera is as big a neon sign as you could hope for.

Doctor Who fans — never ones to not scour the text, metatext and paratext of each episode — took Twist’s repeated casting as a signpost. They assumed, not unjustifiably, that this series would feature a twist about Susan, and that Davies was subtly signaling this to diehard fans. Given Twist’s appearance here, and that we get a song saying the quiet part out loud, seems to vindicate those theories. Unless, of course, it’s all a triple bluff, but I’m not sure how anyone could game that successfully. The only question that remains, of course, is what Davies’ plan is, and how exactly it’ll play out in the next six episodes.

This article originally appeared on Engadget at https://www.engadget.com/doctor-who-the-devils-chord-review-is-this-madness-010056449.html?src=rss 

The following includes spoilers for “Space Babies.”

You can’t help but admire Russell T. Davies’ audacity. He plucks the rights to make Doctor Who from the BBC. He gets Disney+ to write an enormous check to bring the show to life in a way never before attempted. Then, with so much money at stake and a months-long promotional campaign, he opens season one and the door to new fans with this.

We kick off at the end of “The Church on Ruby Road,” with the Doctor’s latest companion, Ruby Sunday (Millie Gibson), entering the TARDIS for the first time. The Doctor introduces himself and offers a quick run-through of the premise for the folks at home. They’re an alien, adopted by the Time Lords of Gallifrey who were then wiped out. That leaves the Doctor (once again) as the last of their kind; a quasi-immortal time traveler who can go anywhere in the universe.

To set the scene, the pair hop back to prehistoric Wyoming to gaze at a detailed vista of some CGI dinosaurs. This is the show boasting about what it can do even for a throwaway scene with its new bigger budget. And it helps banish the memories of some of the less successful attempts to do a dinosaur episode from way back when.

Ruby is already savvy to the conventions of the time-travel genre and asks about the risks to causality if she steps on a butterfly. The Doctor dismisses this idea out of hand before Ruby does and causes unutterable damage to the timeline. The butterfly is quickly revived and the Doctor nips back into the TARDIS to activate the Butterfly Compensator. Which is as close as this show gets to saying that it has never been a hard sci-fi show and it never will be.

For their next trip, they travel into the far future, landing on a space station that grows babies for colony projects. The bowels of the vessel are being stalked by an eyeless, teeth-heavy monster while the upper deck is crewed by talking babies. Mere seconds after proving the show can do decent-looking dinosaurs, it overreaches and adds an appallingly creepy CGI mouth to a baby. I’ve seen this done in movies, and commercials, and it never works, and please God stop trying.

The Doctor and Ruby encounter the crew, a bunch of babies with the minds of preschoolers and the mouths of adults, or something. They’ve been left to run the station, with pulleys and cables letting them control specific onboard functions, and smart strollers to carry them around. The only other presence on the ship is an AI, NAN-E, which acts as a comforting voice for the kids.

Ruby’s genre-savviness kicks in again here, and she notices there’s almost a storybook quality to the situation. A bunch of kids being menaced by an unwelcome, bogeyman-esque presence below, and the need for a hero to step in and rescue them. The pair give the babies some much-needed cuddles and are then invited to another part of the station by NAN-E.

On the way, the pair discuss origin stories and how Ruby, following on from the events of “The Church on Ruby Road,” wants to use the TARDIS to find out who her parents are. While they talk, snow — the same snow that fell when Ruby was left on the steps of the eponymous church — starts to fall inside the corridor. Ruby’s memories and history are somehow seeping through into the present, or she’s able to do something to alter the universe.

But they can’t focus on that too much, since they’re interrupted by NAN-E, who turns out not to be an AI, but a person. Jocelyn Sancerre (Golda Rosheuvel) is the last adult crew member, who stayed on the station to care for the children when everyone else was ordered to leave. The government of the planet below pulled funding for the stations and ordered the adults to leave, abandoning the children in place. But, because the planet is also anti-abortion, they wouldn’t terminate the as-yet unborn babies, preferring them to slowly die from external factors. Geez, do you think they might be talking about us?

Much as this will be framed as a post-Roe story by US audiences, it’s worth saying the UK’s Conservative Party has taken a similar approach. In 2010, the Labour government had worked to greatly reduce child poverty and homelessness with a number of targeted programs. These were quickly unwound by the incoming Conservatives, not only undoing all of those gains but making the issue a lot worse. So much so that the UN – the UN! – of all people upbraided the nation.

The streak of saying the quiet part out loud continues when, while hatching a plan to save the babies, they opt to take them to another planet in the system. It’s a world that takes in refugees, but you have to turn up on the planet’s doorstep to get any help, because it won’t lift a finger to help rescue people in need from further afield. Again, this is a not-so oblique reference to the UK’s monstrous policy of attempting to block refugees from reaching the country via sea. It is a point of enormous pride for the Prime Minister that he has boasted about his work to prevent boat crossings.

This is made all the more painful as, for a brief moment, the country was reconsidering its approach following the death of Alan Kurdi, a two-year-old boy who drowned while attempting passage to Europe from Syria. The image of his body became a harrowing and defining image of the day, but the press quickly worked to stifle any pro-migrant sentiment, enabling the country to engage in an enormous boondoggle by spending millions of pounds building a detention center in Rwanda to forcibly-relocate people seeking asylum in the UK as a “deterrent.”

The grown ups can’t mull their problems for long as Eric, one of the babies (sorry, space babies) heads down to the lower level to tackle this bogeyman. There’s a telling moment where Ruby sprints out to rescue the child far ahead of the Doctor, continuing a thread from the Christmas special: Ruby Sunday is willing to throw herself head-first into the action rather than waiting for help, steel pipe in hand. Doctor Who has always thrived when the companions — a name we’ve been saddled with since 1963 — are active figures in the narrative. Every one of the show’s sidekicks, bar one, has their ardent fans, but commanding figures like Sarah Jane and Ace are always the most beloved.

Once the baby is rescued by the other babies wielding a gas pipe as a flamethrower, they’re sent back upstairs while the Doctor and Ruby take on the bogeyman. Ruby’s assumptions are proved further right when it turns out the alien is actually a bogey-man, as in made of snot. The station’s malfunctioning systems sought to build an appropriate environment for the kids, and used children’s literature as its template.

Jocelyn works out that she can force the bogeyman toward an airlock while keeping the Doctor and Ruby safe. She then exposes the monster to the void of space, but the Doctor can’t be so cruel to another lonely, misunderstood figure. He makes his way into the airlock room and closes the door to seal them both in to save the bogeyman’s life.

The episode ends with the Doctor realizing that the station can eject its six full years worth of soiled diapers to propel it towards the refugee planet. It’s entirely fair game to resolve a crisis precipitated by rogue bodily fluids with a poop joke.

Crisis averted, he and Ruby walk back to the TARDIS where he gives her a key and welcomes her to the team, before adding that, as much as she may want to, he can’t take her back to the moment she was abandoned. He covertly begins scanning Ruby to work out what exactly is her deal, and why she’s capable of bending the universe. (And yes, there are shades of the Impossible Girl arc in how this is playing out.)

The TARDIS lands back at Ruby’s home, smashing up the kitchen and the Christmas dinner therein.

I imagine it won’t be long after the episode airs that the usual corners of the internet will scream culture war. Davies was always a political writer and feels a duty to be unapologetic about his viewpoint on current-day matters. His original tenure on the show was rooted at the tail-end of the Blair and Brown years, fueled by righteous fury around the invasion of Iraq. This is, again, all the more surprising given it’s being broadcast on Disney+, the model of conservative restraint.

During his first tenure, Davies would begin the production of every episode with a tone meeting which outlined how each episode would maintain a consistent feeling in the writing, acting and direction. By comparison, “Space Babies” lurches wildly: Poop and fart jokes in one scene, unsettling horror in the next, weighty examinations of human morality between. The scenes of Jocelyn’s adult dialog being run through the “nanny filter” is a good source of comedy, it’s just odd that they’re juxtaposed with high drama.

But that’s more or less what makes Doctor Who one of the best shows on TV — its ability to do anything it damn well pleases. If the weirdness of what you’ve just seen appeals then you’ve just become a Doctor Who fan. If it didn’t, then you might find the next episode will serve up what you were looking for.

This article originally appeared on Engadget at https://www.engadget.com/doctor-who-space-babies-review-bet-you-didnt-expect-that-000030277.html?src=rss 

Apple will reportedly focus its first round of generative AI enhancements on beefing up Siri’s conversational chops. Sources speaking with The New York Times say company executives realized early last year that ChatGPT made Siri look antiquated. The company allegedly decided that the large language model (LLM) principles behind OpenAI’s chatbot could give the iPhone’s virtual assistant a much-needed shot in the arm. So Apple will reportedly roll out a new version of Siri powered by generative AI at its WWDC keynote on June 10.

Apple Senior Vice Presidents Craig Federighi and John Giannandrea reportedly tested ChatGPT for weeks before the company realized that Siri looked outdated. (I would argue that the epiphany came about a decade late.) What followed was what The NYT describes as Apple’s “most significant reorganization in more than a decade.”

The company sees generative AI as a once-in-a-decade tentpole area worth shifting heaps of resources to address. You may recall the company canceled its $10 billion “Apple Car” project earlier this year. Apple reportedly reassigned many of those engineers to work on generative AI.

Apple executives allegedly fear AI models could eventually replace established software like iOS, turning the iPhone into “a dumb brick” by comparison. The clunky, awkward and overall unconvincing first wave of dedicated AI gadgets we’ve reviewed, like the Human AI Pin and Rabbit R1, aren’t good enough to pose a threat. But that could change as software evolves, other smartphone makers incorporate more AI into their operating systems and other hardware makers have a chance to innovate.

So, at least for now, it appears Apple isn’t launching direct competitors to generative AI stalwarts like ChatGPT (words), Midjourney (images) or ElevenLabs (voices). Instead, it will start with a new Siri and updated iPhone models with expanded memory to better handle local processing. In addition, the company will reportedly add a text-summarizing feature to the Messages app.

Apple’s M4 chip (shown next to VP John Ternus) could help process local Siri requests.

Apple’s first foray into generative AI, if The NYT’s sources are correct, sounds like less of an immediate threat to creators than some had imagined. The company ran a video plugging the new iPad Pro at its May iPad event. The clip accidentally served as the perfect metaphor for the (legitimate) fears of artists, musicians and other creators, whose work AI models have trained on — and who stand to be replaced by those same tools as they become more normalized for content creation.

This week, Apple apologized for the ad and said it canceled plans to run it on TV. 

Samsung and Google have already loaded their flagship phones with various generative AI features that go far beyond improving their virtual assistants. These include tools for editing photos, generating text and enhancing transcription (among other things). These features typically rely on cloud-based servers for processing, whereas Apple’s approach will allegedly prioritize privacy and handle requests locally. So Apple will apparently start with a more streamlined approach that sticks to improving what’s already there, as well as keeping most or all processing on-device.

The New York Times’ sources add that Apple’s culture of internal secrecy and privacy-focused marketing have stunted its AI progress. Former Siri engineer John Burkey told the paper that the company’s tendency to silo off the information various divisions share with each other has been another primary culprit in Siri’s inability to evolve far past where the assistant was when it launched a day before Steve Jobs died in 2011.

This article originally appeared on Engadget at https://www.engadget.com/apples-big-ai-rollout-at-wwdc-will-reportedly-focus-on-making-siri-suck-less-203035673.html?src=rss