Tony turns left.
Imagine a Torchwood world
in which Captain Jack never took over Torchwood Cardiff. Where his ability to
resurrect was stolen by James Marsters’ legendary Captain John Hart. Imagine
what John Hart would do with a power
like that? And then imagine Jack Harkness was dying.
Actually, stop imagining – you don’t imagine things for a living, probably. Settle back and let David Llewellyn imagine it for you. He does it spectacularly well.
Actually, stop imagining – you don’t imagine things for a living, probably. Settle back and let David Llewellyn imagine it for you. He does it spectacularly well.
That’s the premise of this
story - Captain Jack is dying, finally. Captain John Hart is actually King John, having robbed Jack of his
resurrective powers and gone on to well and truly beggar about with Torchwood
history as we know it. The journey from our world to that world, and maybe –
jusssst maybe – back again – is the arc of this story.
We are of course more than
delighted to welcome James Marsters back to Torchwood; if you don’t delight in
listening to him being bad for the run-time of the story, you might need to
check yourself for a pulse, but underneath it all, there’s a moral for our age.
Just because someone’s in charge, you shouldn’t automatically assume they’re
either a) competent to be there, or b) in any way on your side, and you
absolutely, positively shouldn’t simply follow orders from a figure of
authority without running them past your internal ethical filters first.
The Death of Captain Jack
is enormous fun – John Hart is a force of joyful deadly chaos, and that’s
always going to be fun to listen to, especially with Marsters on top form.
David Llewellyn’s on great writing form too and gives Hart a perfect knife-edge
of adorable psychopathy to walk, as we delve into The World According To King
John. More than ever before, the original equality of badassery between
Harkness and Hart is shown in full flight – in the first handful of heartbeats,
they take in Alexander the Great’s court, Catherine the Great’s court, and the
about-to-sink-and-not-a-Celine-Dion-song-to-be-had Titanic as the bad boys try
to keep up with one another and even outdo each other in mischief and
inter-temporal thievery. It’s in their differences, once Jack has met the
Doctor and Rose Tyler, that the rift between the bad boys really becomes
irreparable and sour. In fact, the world of King John is the temporal
equivalent of the motto ‘It’s all fun until somebody loses an eye’ – an
opportunity presents itself that even Jack Harkness, especially post-Doctor
Jack Harkness, can’t go along with, and Hart, being Hart, does his absolute
level best to murder him. And then leaves him on a familiar island to rot,
while he goes off to…well, basically, rule the world. Aggressive domestic
policy is followed by aggressive foreign policy, and his rule over Torchwood,
first at Canary Wharf and later at Cardiff, is absolutely the chaotic whirl of
jackanapery you’d expect from his character – we hear what becomes of Yvonne
Hartman, of Ianto, of Tosh and of Gwen, as the Torchwood history we know unfolds
with a John Hart twist - Hephaestus, the 456, even the Blessing of Miracle Day,
it’s all crammed in here leading up to the death of Captain Jack and the
consequences it has.
In tone, this is a
delicious dark comic romp, a prancing celebration of the non-serious, the
anti-worthy and the ‘Frankly who gives a damn about the little people, I’m
doing fine,’ all of which is fantastic to listen to and rather less fun to be
governed by. Of course, if there’s ever to be Torchwood as we know it again,
there has to be a Turn Left moment, a moment where the dystopian world of King
John has to be set right from our point of view, and you won’t be disappointed
by it when it comes, even though you know it has to, and that the fun has to
end. There’s an important idea in The Death of Captain Jack – that the people
we know, both the ordinary and the heroes – are just a different status quo
away from people we don’t like that much, and that so, probably, are we. It all
depends on the normalization of initially outrageous behaviour in order to
maintain our own stability within a world gone pear-shaped. Would lovely
Sergeant Andy Davidson bazooka a nightclub full of hostages, for instance?
Maybe he would if the king gave the order.
And if Andy Davidson would
kill innocent people if the right authority gave the order…what would we do?
The shudder those thoughts
induce is why we look forward to the righting of the world, the resurrection of
Captain Jack and the defeat of King John, however much fun it’s been to ride
along on the dark side of the history mirror. And when the end comes, it brings
more than a touch of Sapphire and Steel with it, which can never be a bad
thing.
The Death of Captain Jack
is a romp into anti-history, into a world that was never supposed to have
existed. Our excursion down that rabbit hole is by turns enormously good fun,
and then, as time goes on, increasingly cold and harsh and terrifying in the
mundanity of its evil. Its promise that such dreadful divergences can in some
way always be put right is a hopeful message for our age, though, and one that
makes The Death of Captain Jack a must-listen.
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