TV on DVD: Doc Martin -- Series 2 (2005)

Now Available on DVD
From Acorn Media

The Origins of Doc Martin



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I once read a study that stated that-- no matter how much we blather on or how much they pretend to ask us about our plans for the weekend or our new shoes, family pets, or hobbies-- the typical doctor only actively listens to their patients for an average of five minutes at any given appointment.

Whether it's just fixating on the examination itself or paying attention to certain key symptoms or phrases that would indicate a need for further testing (cha-ching!), a small procedure (cha-ching, cha-chaing!), or even an operation (cha-ching in every language known to man)-- bedside manner seems about as old fashioned as the idea of house calls. And this is probably why USA Network has a huge hit on their hands this summer with Royal Pains since it centers on a handsome prince in a blue shirt and khakis willing to save you in the comfort of your own sofa.

Unfortunately that's television or the luxury of those with the money and life in the Hamptons, baby. For in the real world-- to a doctor who wants to squeeze in as many patients as possible in a given day and especially to those who write with pens by Prozac on notepads by Ultram and glance at watches boasting an advertisement for Viagra, they're overly quick to tell you that your exam is over and your time is up even if by doing so they've missed something so vital that your life-clock time (not sponsored by Viagra) may be up sooner than they thought.

And admittedly, often in the over-crowded medical system, sometimes it's not our over-worked doctors' faults (save for the cushy ones specializing in things like pharmacological kickbacks, boob jobs, and botox that is) but there's no excuse for rudeness no matter how busy you are. Additionally, my one measuring stick for people-- doctors definitely and men I date especially-- is how they treat people to whom they don't necessarily have to be nice-- for example, the "tired, poor, huddled masses" a.k.a. the sick and those less fortunate than them.

And when it comes to this criteria, Doc Martin-- as played by Martin Clunes-- gets a failing grade. Of course, to be fair, the poor guy is playing a man whose name sounds an awful lot like footwear on this side of the pond given the trendy boots prone to the arty goth crowd in the '80s and '90s American high school scene and likewise, the lead actor had just come off the wildly successful UK sitcom Men Behaving Badly.

However, there's humor in his complete disregard for manners considering that essentially everyone else in the picturesque fictitious Cornwall village of Portwenn (filmed in reality in Port Isaac) is either exceedingly charming, very bizarre or a bit of both-- giving it that instant Northern Exposure vibe to which the ITV British Comedy Award winning series is often compared.

Clunes-- working off of the character originally crafted by Craig Ferguson and Mark Crowdy in 2000's hidden UK gem Saving Grace starring Brenda Blethyn (in which he portrayed Dr. Martin Bamford)-- successfully segued Bamford into Martin for two prequel made-for-television movies to provide audiences with a back-story before the series kicked off in '04 where it's been only ITV's third series scoring the #1 midweek 9pm slot since 12/04.

While I must confess that traditionally medical shows aren't my "bag" unless they're accompanied by a clever hook or set-up-- after a shaky start for a newbie tuning in in Series 2 having never seen anything other than Saving Grace, I felt Martin delivered something decidedly unique.

And this is definitely achieved by coupling such an idyllic backdrop which looks as though it could be used for Englishmen Who Went Up a Hill But Came Down a Mountain, Dear Frankie, or Waking Ned Devine with the recurring and intelligent Midsomer Murders Village Mysteries twists throughout as each storyline takes you in countless directions-- some kinky, some hilarious, some melancholic, and some that are just nicely unexpected.

Although, this being said I do have to grant that-- despite the novel concept of a top London surgeon who irrationally develops a fear of blood, has to retrain as a general practitioner and relocate to his childhood village of Portwenn-- Clunes' character lacks the same joyful articulation in his misanthropy to put him in the same "watchability" bracket as John C. McGinley's Dr. Cox on Scrubs. Since, honestly at times I just wanted to smack the Doc for lecturing a woman while she slipped away to death but despite this, the show gets bonus points for the sudden arrival of his parents. For only one glimpse into those who spawned the man and soon enough you realize just why and how Martin is the way he is.

And thus, a recurring theme of parental angst is introduced into the series that reappears subtly throughout whether on a lighter and more comical level with good-natured local boy Al (Joe Absolom) or on a more serious one with Louisa Glasson (Caroline Catz), the beautiful teacher whom Martin hopelessly loves from afar.

Beginning the series without prior knowledge of their sexual tension-- the show opens with a fantasy sequence of the two in what seems to be a romance novel plot before we realize that the neighbors had indeed shared a kiss but par for the course, the doc had blown it and ruined the potentially romantic moment by (I'm assuming here) making some remark about her need for better dental hygiene. Even though, sadly we later discover that the kiss had occurred at a stressful moment when they'd been up all night, worried, and drinking loads of coffee which would explain the sans minty-fresh experience.

When the handsome but now eerily religious-- to the point that every five minutes he needs to pray or praise the man upstairs-- ex-boyfriend of Louisa returns to town to check on an elderly relative and then begins a relationship with her, Doc Martin grows even crueler and more cantankerous than before. But luckily some of the locals keep him in check including his new receptionist Pauline (Katherine Parkinson) and PC Mark Mylow (Stewart Wright) who seems to be the only person who can tolerate the doctor, even when Martin refuses to be his best man when Mark rushes into a hurried and questionable engagement.

Featuring all eight regular length episodes from the second season in addition to the ninth one-- a feature length Christmas special "On the Edge" (that funnily enough had no visible ties to the holiday) which finds Louisa's dad arriving in town and a hostage situation getting underway-- the transfer of this new series is of much higher quality than a vast majority of recent British Acorn releases given the 2005 source material.

Moreover, it's featured in beautiful 16x9 widescreen that fills your enhanced televisions completely and boasts magnificent views of the area to make you feel like you're in Portwenn (or Cornwall's Port Isaac). While no doubt you wouldn't want to visit Martin Clunes' curmudgeon titular character, the slim-packaged three-disc set also boasts Dolby Digital with subtitles for the deaf and/or hard of hearing. And although the only extras are a photo gallery and cast filmographies, fans looking for a cross between a village mystery and a medical series mixed with a nice love story (or rather the potential of one) without all the cliches will want to be sure to check it out.

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DVD Review: Incendiary (2008)

Michelle Williams & Ewan McGreggor
Reunite in Sharon Maguire's Explosive
Incendiary on 5/5/09

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As we hear in endless prescription commercials-- most medications come with a stern warning to patients not to operate heavy machinery while under the influence of whatever the pill contains. And much like the supremely devastating work of Danish Dogme director Lars von Trier (Breaking the Waves, Dancer in the Dark, Dogville, and Manderlay)-- Bridget Jones's Diary helmer Sharon Maguire traded in the tacky reindeer sweater of Colin Firth for her unflinchingly bleak follow-up film Incendiary which, similar to von Trier's films should be doled out to viewers along with a temporary supply of anti-depressants at least until the post-traumatic stress wears off.

Although the phenomenal turn by Brokeback Mountain Oscar nominee Michelle Williams anchors this controversial tragedy that-- like David Gordon Green's recent Snow Angels-- proves that women's weepie cinema didn't die in the 1950s as initially assumed-- even an impassioned portrayal can't aid the film during its severe gaps in logic, human decency, taste, and thinly disguised manipulation as a female punishment picture.

Although helmed by a woman, Incendiary invites us to judge right from the start as we meet Williams as a strong-willed Cockney accented cliched East Ender who takes her beloved four year old son to the beach for a day while running around in jeans that read "Sexy Mama." Soon her voice-over begins labeling her sad-sack soccer obsessed (or "football" rather), Top Gear, and TV dinner husband "right miserable," while she bemoans her hum-drum life as a third generation resident in what appears to be government housing.

Moreover, and in an incredibly unflattering light, we see Williams portraying someone whom Maguire and the original novel's author want us to assume is so typical that she hasn't even been given the decency of being bestowed with an actual name and the only one that seems to stick out from the start is the lewd one she applies to herself as a "slapper."



To this end, it isn't long before the "young mother" who is prone to wearing miniskirts and staring off into space in boredom decides to act. Thus, tired of coping with her psychologically drained police officer husband who returns from work on the bomb squad with the same unfunny line, "Well, I'm still here, aren't I?" whenever Williams inquires about his day, she begins looking for an outside thrill.

Dressing even trashier than usual and planting her baby monitor directly in the hands of a next door neighbor, she hits the local pub and makes a good show of blowing off the slightly sleazy journalist (Ewan McGregor) who comes onto her instantly before soon enough he's at her table, the floodgates open, and she begins telling him every detail about her unhappy life.

Williams manages to evoke sympathy for her stereotypical character in that we sense just how lonely she is without someone with whom to speak and-- despite the fact that she embarks on an affair, because of her undeniable humanity and authenticity, we're with her every step. However, it's a tentative trust we have in her that is dismissed just as soon as it is introduced by Maguire, working from the divisive and infamous novel by Chris Cleave-- when it moves Williams' and McGregor's early coupling into excruciatingly tawdry terrain.

For, in the middle of a very graphic extramarital shag right on the sofa she watches television on with her husband, the two are caught in the act by the most brutal form of comeuppance ever as a bomb rips through the soccer stadium where her husband and child are at that very minute.

Running towards the scene of horrific terrorism which left over a thousand residents killed-- still in shock-- we suspend our disbelief long enough with our jaws still on the floor as McGregor and Williams journey to the site knowing in our gut even before she does that the men in her immediate family are dead because as the film implies, "the slapper" deserved it.

While Cleave's novel had the intense misfortune of being released on the very day that London's public transit system was attacked back on July 7, 2005, Maguire's film-- already building in that bad sense of karma-- was struck by more horrific timing when its premiere at Sundance coincided with the death of Williams' ex and father of her child, Heath Ledger in 2008.

Now over one year later, Incendiary makes its way to DVD and Blu-ray via ThinkFilm and Image Entertainment. And while certainly it's bolstered by the performances of its two lead stars who also worked well together in the equally misguided yet infinitely more watchable, predictable clunker Deception with Hugh Jackman, Incendiary is a film that it's nonetheless hard to view objectively. This is especially true given not just the subject matter and sense that the wounds are still not healed in regards to horrific attacks but also on another level when you realize what Williams has gone through as well.

Still, trying to push all this aside and simply focus on the narrative with gaping plot holes and juggling a few too many red herrings and false starts in this jam-packed work that has several storylines all fighting to be the main one-- we're left with an absolutely compelling and heart-rending performance by Williams in a film that moves from a five stages of grief melodrama to paranoid thriller as Williams and McGregor ascertain that a cover-up may have been involved. As if this isn't enough, it also tries at least for little while as well to become a portrait of loss on both sides of the situation when she becomes friends with the unaware and surviving family members of a man who was more than likely one of the suicide bombers.

Flirting with the possibility of moving into Pelican Brief territory as her husband's former boss (creepily played by Matthew Macfadyen) makes a play for Williams and lets a few details about that fateful day at the stadium slip in an unforgiving and disturbing love triangle-- the film's decision to make McGregor a journalist at first showed potential that a mystery would be resolved but ultimately it's all inconsequential.

And unfortunately Maguire's adaptation and direction for the work soon makes a large case that it's an allegorical female punishment movie a la The Life Before Her Eyes as Williams' tartish character must make amends and physically save or resurrect life to "replace" the ones she took away with her unbridled lust.

While it does have its moments of sheer power and gives Williams a real "one woman show" style to display her amazing capability to convey emotion despite our wish that she was offered something far better than this work-- in the end it buries itself an even deeper grave. Embodied in an arc that at first seemed chilling and intriguing-- we find Williams narrating letters she's written to Osama Bin Laden as part of the healing process to deal with her loss that move from poignant to ridiculous by the film's conclusion with lines that have been quoted verbatim in countless reviews in utter disbelief.

A well-intentioned film that nonetheless "blows apart"-- to borrow from its tagline-- by the "truth" that it's all flash and spark that ignites us more from shock than by anything from the picture as a whole; in fact, you'll discover that much like Life Before Her Eyes and Blindness, you'll grow even warier of it the day after the one hundred minute work concludes and you can start wrapping your head around what you've seen.

Of course, I must admit that it's always nice to see the natural chemistry between Williams and McGregor and this pleasant admiration would be even stronger if the two were actually allowed to act opposite one another in a film that's worth their considerable talents. Moreover, let's hope that next time for the sake of the women of London's East End who may not appreciate the idea that they're all nameless and interchangeable or journalists who will do anything for a story-- we find them moving away from anything resembling a conspiracy and perhaps towards something that--horror of horrors, may actually involve a smile or come without a warning of serious post-traumatic depression.