Torchwood: Miracle Day - All About Ianto?

One of the first things a writer (or a keen reader) realizes is that everything is autobiographical. Some writers wear this fact proudly; others like to hide it under layers and layers of distancing tricks; but the fact remains: a careful reader can always pick up the fictional threads that lead back to the writer's reality.

Digging through my favorite writers' heads is one of my favorite pastimes. As such, Russel T Davies has a wonderfully big one to roam around in. Brash, outspoken, confrontational, Davies wears his convictions on his sleeve, unapologetic about his radicalism. People (like myself) whose politics are in line with his might see him as an activist, a champion who screams the things too many people are afraid to whisper. Others wish he'd just shut the hell up.

Activists are driven by emotion. Some may be more diplomatic than others, but deep down, only powerful, overwhelming, undeniable emotion that keeps you up at night can force you to fashion yourself into an object of scorn and hatred. You don't make yourself a target for fun - you do it because otherwise the anger will asphyxiate you.

But writing - and especially television writing - is a highly structured affair. It demands a seemingly impossible feat: making best friends of raw, overwhelming emotion and iron-fisted control. Too much restraint, and the writing falls flat, failing to ignite the passion of the audience. Not enough restraint, and the anger will spin out of control and crash and burn like a war plane on fire.

This is exactly what seems to have happened with Torchwood: Miracle Day. For once, it felt like Davies couldn't quite force his anger into the structure of a storyline. And I think by retracing our steps, we can figure out what went wrong.

Miracle Day stands in stark contrast to the last installment of Torchwood. The powerful Children of Earth wasn't lacking in emotion - passionate rage burns through the show's exploration of the class system, the government's ongoing betrayal of its electorate, the self-hatred that makes us our own worst enemies, and the impotence of trying to make yourself heard. And yet all these beautiful literary gifts seemed overshadowed by the fans' insane overreaction to the death of Ianto Jones.

 

Russel T Davies made the mistake of demanding maturity from his audience. And the audience would have none of it. In the wake of Children of Earth, along with near-uniform critical praise, Davies was subjected to a torrent of vicious attacks - even death threats - from viewers who refused to accept the powerful emotional experience Davies was offering them. Even his family wasn't spared by angry fans.

This reaction seemed completely out of place in the context of a show like Torchwood, where one main character was killed off in the very first episode and two more died at the end of the season immediately preceding Children of Earth. For some inexplicable reason, an extremely vocal group of fans seemed to think they were watching Hustle instead - a show of perpetually happy endings, solid structure, fun storylines, and complete absence of even the slightest pretense of emotional involvement. Now, don't get me wrong, Hustle is a pleasant little distraction - but it's no Torchwood.

In the context of viciousness directed at Davies after Children of Earth, Miracle Day almost feels like a direct response to the Ianto crazies. You want a show where nobody ever dies? Davies seemed to be saying. Well, here you go. As the show constructed an argument for the value of death in both fiction and reality, dialog seemed to be addressed more and more explicitly to the Ianto brigade. "You know what, let him die," Rhys tells Gwen in the last episode. "Bless the poor bugger, he's had his time." He is talking about Gwen's father - but he might as well be talking about Ianto Jones.

There is a marked difference between the anger we might feel towards a government that has betrayed us, and the anger we might feel towards people who are personally threatening our family. It's the latter that seems to fuel Torchwood: Miracle Day. This very personal, protective, primal rage has nothing to do with reason, or politics, or least of all structure. It's blinding - and as such, it's not the best foundation for writing. In Miracle Day, potentially powerful storylines come and go, never quite making the artistic and political statement they are intended to make - it's as if Davies feels like he has an obligation to address certain things, but keeps losing interest. Other elements seem to be introduced solely for the benefit of the Ianto brigade: the "Dead is Dead" movement, which could potentially serve as a springboard for serious sociopolitical discussion, is reduced to a mere taunt aimed at Ianto fans, not a whole lot more mature than the people it addresses. Even the show's closing scene seems to be designed to stick it to the "Bring Ianto Back" people.

Despite all this, Torchwood: Miracle Day still manages to be highly entertaining - a testament to Russel T Davies' underlying talent and to the show's two remaining stars, John Barrowman (Captain Jack Harkness) and Eve Myles (Gwen "Rambo" Cooper). I even found its failings strangely satisfying, in a purely juvenile way. The Ianto brigade had managed to hijack the discussion of Torchwood: Children of Earth, viciously shouting down anyone who dared to like the show and generally behaving like rabid dogs even PETA wouldn't defend. As a fan of Torchwood and Russel T Davies, I found myself cheering Davies' jabs at the people I found so excruciatingly annoying last time around. But it's hard to ignore that, in a very real sense, the same people still dominate the discussion of Miracle Day. This time around, however, they didn't have to hijack it - this time, Davies simply handed over the steering wheel.

Let's hope he got it out of his system.