If memory serves – and how often does that happen? – I saw my first 2012 Christmas decorations in late summer. In Miami, maybe? At the merchandise mart that adjoined the convention hotel? Anyway, months before anything resembling the start of the Holiday Season, which seems to have climbed into the vicinity of Halloween.

(And are you now bracing for one of my hate-Christmas screeds? Am I preparing to validate Fox News’s diatribes against The War On Christmas, ho ho ho? Naw. Maybe next year.)

What I am wondering, though, is whether any of our comic book bretheren still produce the annual Christmas story. In fact, I’m wondering if they ever did. I know that I wrote at least a couple of them, two featuring The Dark Knight (ah, but was he a silent knight? a holy knight?) and a third, I think, starring one of his favorite adversaries, that feminine feline funster, Catwoman. Two of these were commissioned, produced by editorial fiat, and what the hell? We’re pros, right? Guy behind the desk says Christmas story and we say, how many pages and when? The other, a Batman, may have been my idea, or, more likely, it may have originated with My Favorite Editor, Julius Schwartz.

And, o holy holly, while typing the above, I forget the weirdest Christmas-Meets-Batman of them all: A Slaying Song Tonight. This eight-pager appeared in an anthology, Batman Black and White, and I’m pretty sure it was my idea to make the thing a Christmas story and if you insist on my telling you why, I’d guess that I hadn’t done a Christmas piece in a long time and I felt like revisiting old turf. Maybe I shouldn’t even mention this because it surely wasn’t an annual anything: rather it was, as they say in the British publishing dodge, “a one-off.”

(An oddity concerning Batman Black and White: the book was conceived and edited by DC’s color editor, Mark Chiarello. And for those of you who haven’t seen it: yeah, every story in it was in black-and-white. And consider this a Recommended Reading. And finally, to end this windy digression – Mark, if Slaying Song was your idea, I apologize.)

Where were we…? Wondering if comics do Christmas stories anymore. Well, if they aren’t published, or if there are fewer of them than in days of yore, it may be because these stories, from Dickens onward, were focused on one day, a holiday, Christmas. Well, Christmas isn’t a day, not for a while now. A … what? Season? That’s closer. What it has evolved into, this Christmas, is something we don’t have a name for. Not yet. Shall we coopt a bit from an old Seinfeld and call it “festivus”? Or how about frumalackel? You like that – frumalackel? Sleep on it.

Frumalackel or Christmas, I’m not complaining. It is what it is – what it has become, and it is not wise to argue with reality, and so I won’t. Not this year.

Next year? Who knows?

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

We used to be the bastard child of our American culture.

We were embarrassed by our public image. As we aged, we demanded our pastime mature along with us. We started to infiltrate the means of production, bringing our all-important ideas and ideals along with us. After all, the comics field skipped a generation – few could enter a business that, in the 1950s, was rapidly shrinking. Besides, the Reader’s Digest and the Saturday Evening Post were painting comic book writers and artists as child pornographers. Better to write for the torrid magazines where buff, all-American manly men were saving all-American buxom brunettes from Uncle Joe Stalin and his legion of rodent-faced S & M fanatics, leaving the comics door open for those starry-eyed youngsters who knew no better.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and publishers facing diminished profits understood that our generation worked for a lot less money than the cranky old geezers who wanted to unionize. This same generation was also entering the rest of the public media. Together, we took pleasure in the modern media adaptations of our favorite characters because at least they took our childhoods seriously.

Then we got legitimate. It’s all Richard Donner’s fault. He made Superman – The Movie, the first massive attempt to portray the American comics medium as a serious, legitimate part of our cultural heritage. It was as successful as it was straight-forward, well-produced, well-acted, and well-written. Heroic fantasy took hold of a greater percentage our culture and hasn’t let go.

Comics were taken seriously. The stuff was taught in colleges and in art schools. A decade later Batman came out, upping the ante all the more. Then the Spider-Man movies, the X-Men, the Avengers Universe… Our pastime was generating more revenue in theaters and on television in two years than it had on the newsstands in the previous fifty combined.

And then the people who owned the movie studios that always offered style over substance – style über alles – began to understand there was money to be made in them thar hills. Talent was discounted as necessarily expensive bait. Warner Bros. realized they actually owned a major comic book company, a fact that was purposely kept mostly hidden from them for decades by that very comic book company. Disney understood that the House of Mouse lacked a relevance to the 21^st Century audience and their subsequent creations, as popular as they were, weren’t the cultural icons that were found at the House of Ideas. So the Mouse bought them.

And now, more than ever, its employees are being treated as cogs in these massive corporate machines. They need to be oiled and dusted and maintained for a while, but you can replace any or all of the cogs without damaging the icons, without diminishing the shine on the family jewels.

And so we grieve and we fret each time another massively talented creator gets replaced. But that’s how it works in the legit world.

Always did, always will.

The moral of the story: don’t quit your day job.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

Rose decides to do something very emotional and foolish. The results of her actions are dour indeed, and all because she chose to have a…

FATHER’S DAY
by Paul Cornell
Directed by Joe Ahearne

“An ordinary man – that’s the most important thing in Creation”

Seized by memories, Rose asks The Doctor to take her back before her father Pete died.  He died in a road accident when Rose was only a baby, and Jackie has gone to great lengths to tell her daughter what a fine man he was.  The Doctor agrees – they attend Pete and Jackie’s wedding, where he gets her name wrong in the vows.  Rose, thinking he’d be “taller”, is already starting to suspect his story may have grown in the telling.  Asking to visit the moment Pete died, twice, she makes a horrible choice – she saves her father from being hit by the car.

She’s overjoyed, but The Doctor is livid.  He tries desperately to get her to understand the enormity of what she’s done, and she refuses.  He storms off, but when he realizes what’s happening to the world, he races to find her.  She and Pete have headed to their friend’s wedding, and mysteriously, a number of guests are missing.  Time is starting to go wrong – songs are playing on the radio that haven’t been released yet, and Rose’s phone is picking up a call from Alexander Graham Bell.

Meeting up with Jackie (and a baby Rose) at the church, it’s more apparent that the tales she told her daughter were just that.  Pete’s big plans were just dreams, and he was much more Ralph Kramden than JR Ewing.  And all around them, mysterious creatures are snipping people out of time. This moment is a wound, and the Reapers are here to pick at the scab.  As things get more serious, Pete realizes that he is not meant to be here, and is forced to make a very serious decision to make it right.

Solid acting all around, in a very serious episode, even with the moments of levity.  Pete Tyler is a character who will return in the Tennant run of the series, as part of a long-form plotline that will tie into the season finale.  While he may not have planned it from square one (as moffat appears to do) but Davies was not a stranger to the long plot.

This is the first story of the new series where time travel itself is integral to the plot.  The average Doctor Who story takes place in a single location and time; time travel is little used in the story itself.  Here, we see a number of paradoxes, and how they all affect time itself.  Moffat will do that  great deal more when he takes over the show, and of course in the classic Blink.  Using time travel is very complicated, and requires a lot of explanation to make sure the audience can keep up. The challenge is keeping things entertaining, and Paul does it here expertly.

“I can do anything” – quite a different mindset for this Doctor than for Ten or Eleven.  Ten spent a lot of time talking about how he couldn’t do things, right up until Waters of Mars, when he came to the decision that, being the last Time Lord, he can do anything he damn well pleases, a decision that bites him BUT quick.  Even Eleven comes to his “Time can be re-written” realization, causing him to take massive risks, and only luck having them come out on his side.

One of the most shocking moments of the episode is one of simplest effects in the world, indeed there’s no effect at all.  The Doctor opens the TARDIS and it’s just an empty box.  Well…yeah.  But we’re so used to it NOT being just a box that it feels so wrong.  Wonderful moment.

The costume work in the 80s is positively unsettling. from Pete’s unconstructed jacket with the rolled up sleeves to the mad curly hairdo on Jackie, it’s hilarious.  It’s nice moment of fun against the dramatic story.  And anyone who thinks that Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All is the cutest baby to appear on Doctor Who has forgotten about this episode.  The expressions captured by the director are priceless, and how they’re edited into the proceedings are hilarious.

Rose accuses The Doctor of being jealous, that for once he’s not the most important person in her life.  It’s not the case, but at the end of the day, it’s Pete that saves the day, by doing something that the Doctor couldn’t.  And that only makes Rose love him more.  And that’s a feeling that will carry through that plot thread for some time to come.