Outlander: Wentworth Prison and To Ransom a Man's Soul

Okay, let's do this.

Trigger for rape.

Outlander: The Watch and The Search

Even reviewing these episodes two at a time, I still find myself running at least two weeks behind – and the season finale is tonight! Outlander has recently been put on the backburner in favour of Orphan Black and Penny Dreadful, but we're on the home stretch now and I always planned to see this through to the finish line.

The first of these two episodes is very mellow and slow-paced in comparison to the rest of the season, and so – almost to make up for it – the second is packed full of drama. The Watch deals with Jenny's difficult childbirth and the arrival of unwelcome guests in Lallybroch; whilst The Search has the women come into their own as rescuers as they head off after Jamie following yet another Claire/Jamie separation.

Outlander: The Devil's Mark and Lallybroch

I know it's been slow around here, but I'm knee-deep in assignments with a deadline looming. Since I desperately want to get on top of them before Penny Dreadful starts up, I'm going to have to give Outlander short-shrift in the coming weeks. That's more so than usual, considering I'm already doing episode reviews on a fortnightly basis.

So The Devil's Mark deals with a good old Burn the Witch storyline. This form of execution (or at least the threat of it) pops up in almost every story that takes place at any point during or before the 18th century. It's almost always used to demonstrate the paranoia-fuelled superstition and innate misogyny of the past, for though there were certainly many men across the years that were tried and found guilty of witchcraft, it's a threat that's overwhelmingly aimed at women and inextricably tied up with the idea of female promiscuity – as seen rather eye-openingly in Geillis's confession on the stand.

Basically it's the old timey version of slut-shaming. Only with more horrible deaths.

And unfortunately for me, it's also inherently wrapped up in memories of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Put an angry mob in a courtroom screaming "burn the witch!" and I'll inevitably look around for the duck and the giant scales.

But I'll try and take this seriously.

Outlander: The Reckoning and By The Pricking Of My Thumbs

Hey, look what's back! I was a casual viewer of Outlander for the duration of its first half, but there was something about the premise and atmosphere that drew me in. That's despite its heroine being menaced almost every episode by the threat of rape.

Outlander: The Wedding and Both Sides Now

Given that Outlander is not scheduled to return until April, I decided to go ahead and watch the final two episodes. Seeing them back to back was an exercise in contrast, for The Wedding was as beautifully structured as Both Sides Now was decidedly patchy.

This sense of duality was prevalent throughout The Wedding on a number of levels. Its focal point is the wedding night between Jamie and Claire, with flashbacks moving not only to the wedding preparations, but also Claire’s shotgun wedding to Frank, which he springs upon her on the way to their first meeting with his parents.

By comparison, the Jamie/Claire wedding is a hurried but significantly more planned affair. We see the conditions that Jamie sets for the wedding; his insistence on a ring, a proper venue and a wedding gown for Claire, all indicators that however convenient this marriage may seem on the surface, he plans to take it seriously.

It’s the type of gender subversion that’s been a staple part of their relationship from the start, not only in their interactions but in the way the camera depicts them together.

When was the last time you saw a man and woman
in this position on a romantic novel cover? The answer is: never.

Not since Breaking Dawn (which I have never seen, though I’ve read all the snarky recaps) has a wedding ever been more lovingly filmed, with slow pans over the wedding gown, soft candlelight illuminating the frames, and reverent silence even from the most rowdy Scots.

When the wedding night comes, every excruciatingly awkward moment is captured, every nervous hand-wring, all the heavy breathing, and the longest undressing ever committed to screen. I’ll admit, I had to laugh when Claire’s request to hear about Jamie’s family is suddenly interrupted by her internal voiceover (demonstrating that even the show doesn’t care about Jamie’s family history, especially not when the audience has been promised sex) and that Jamie’s admission of his virginal status is confirmed when his first time lasts about ten seconds. If that.

But the show surprises us by ensuring that the newlyweds don’t stop there. There’s more talk between the two of them, and we learn about Dougal rounding up an ordained priest, Rupert and Angus commissioning a wedding ring, and Ned going in search of a suitable dress. This last one was the most heart-warming; it took place in a brothel and the Madame had a gown left behind by one of their clients. According to her: “it’s best I [never wore it]. No lass should wear another woman’s dress on her wedding day.”

Judging by Ned’s face, he didn’t expect to hear such a sentiment in a brothel, and the episode is full of such moments. Murtagh, in his talk with Jamie, compares Claire’s smile to that of Jamie’s mother; conversely, Rupert’s polite response to Claire’s thanks regarding the ring is soon undermined by his crude comment: “that one looks well ridden” as soon as her back is turned.  

And then there’s Dougal. Dougal, Dougal, Dougal. He needs to stop, and I still haven’t forgotten the corridor assault, but he remains one of my favourite characters. But I mean really, organizing the marriage only to get pissy that he wasn’t getting enough credit for it? Propositioning the bride on her wedding night? Only to immediately punch Rupert in the face when he insults her honour? Look, I can recognize highly inappropriate behaviour in a character, but from a Doylistic point-of-view I can also highly enjoy it.

From sacredness to debauchery, nervousness to enjoyment, warmth to coldness, even lightness to darkness and back again (see below), this was an episode seeped in careful and deliberate contrast.

 

 

Which all ironically served as a contrast to the rather messy following episode. Both Sides Now has a lot of material, none of which holds together in a particularly cohesive way.

It begins with Jamie and Claire having a pleasant picnic together in what looks like thoroughly miserable weather when they’re approached by Hugh Munro, a man who claims to have evidence that could clear Jamie’s name.

Then we get a short sequence in which the encampment is attacked by bandits, and an ensuing Chekhov’s Lecture (in which Claire is taught how to use a knife) which might as well have had foreshadowing flashing at the bottom of the screen.

Then comes an attempted rape by two English deserters – this is where Claire’s newly taught knifing skills come in handy, before her realization that the party have come within a hair’s breathe of the standing stones. She makes a run for it, only to be arrested by red coats, thus rendering the entire marriage plan completely pointless.

And throughout it all are “side-flashes” to Frank and his growing despair over his wife’s disappearance. I haven’t read these books, though I do know that they’re in first-person narrative, so I’m assuming that these bits are unique to the television show. And sadly, they come across as a bit redundant. It would have taken only a few shots to depict Frank’s desolation, but they add a sequence in which a young woman offers to take Frank to the Highlander that he saw under Claire’s window. It turns out to be a trap designed to rob him, though there is at least a chilling demonstration of his genes when he proceeds to beat the shit out of his attackers.

And was that a black jack club he was using to defend himself? Ah, I see what you did there!

But it would appear that the rape content I’d been warned about is on its way. Heck, we got two attempts in one episode. I’m not going to start a debate on the whys and how-tos of depicting rape in a responsible manner; suffice to say that I don’t particularly like watching it in any context, and it’s probably going to impinge on my enjoyment of the episodes to come (as I know that more is on its way).

And though I certainly don’t think Claire’s strength is undermined by the fact she’s sexually threatened by male characters, I still think it’s unfortunate that her final scene before the hiatus is being bent over a desk, at Jack’s mercy, spared only by the timely intervention of her husband.

Miscellaneous Observations:

To quote Claire on seeing the standing stones: “Last I was here, I was Claire Randall. Then Claire Beauchamp. Then Claire Fraser.” It’s a typical case of a woman’s identity being wrapped up in her father/husband’s surname, one that reminded me a little of Amelia Pond (who the Doctor would refer to as Amelia Williams whenever things got serious) but given that Claire’s a contemporary of the 1940s, I can understand why she would think in these terms.

The character of Hugh Munro was beautifully played; this show is exceptionally good at breathing life into the most minor of characters. And he gives Claire a dragonfly in amber... I have no idea what the significance of this is, only that it’s the title of the next book, so it must mean something.

Tobias Menzies is incredible. There’s such an obvious difference between Frank and Black Jack, even as a little of that divide was closed in Frank’s beating of his assailants. And that look on Jack’s face – that expression of incredulous joy when Jamie appears at the window... terrifying.

See? Terrifying.

 

Outlander: The Garrison Commander

This episode certainly began on an ominous note, for slipped in between the ending of the opening credits and a short repetition of last week’s final scene was a panning shot over a red coat and a razor; two objects that are highly emblematic of a certain character and suggestive of what is to follow.

Having been approached and detained by an English garrison, Clare cannot help but feel more at ease. And you can’t blame her for this; it’s human nature to be more comfortable among your own people, and despite the significant gap in time periods, it still is much less of a culture shock to dine with a group of English men. She knows how to be charming and gracious to a room of like-minded people.

But the clever thing about this episode is that her feelings of belonging gradually eroded over the course of her time with the English, until once more she is swept out into the safety and acceptance of the Scottish Highlands instead.

Even more remarkable is that a good 90% of this episode took place in a single building; a single room in fact. It is the most modern we’ve seen yet, a far cry from the gloomy halls of Castle Leoch, with wallpaper, rich furnishings, and pictures on the wall. It's not a million miles away from resembling a contemporary dining room, which makes it all the more disturbing when we see what goes on inside it during the course of the episode.

When Claire ushered into the room she’s showered with amiable attention and warmth by General Thomas; though he is simultaneously rude and hostile to Dougal, insulting his accent and attire.

Yet there’s an interesting perspective in how Clare handles this situation and the way the room responds to it – when she scolds Dougal and Thomas for acting like children, she’s tolerated; even indulged. She’s playing the part of the disapproving school marm; a role that these men recognize and value. It’s they that are disrupting the mode of behaviour she symbolizes: refinement and civility, and they apologise accordingly.

But later on in the dinner, after Dougal has left for the tavern, she speaks out against the treatment of the Scots and is met with a much different reception. Stony silence greets her outspoken opinions on politics, for now she is the one encroaching on their territory. It is not simply that she is a woman (though one of the men present cannot help but comment on it), but also due to her more modern viewpoint on borders and ownership.

To a woman who has just lived through WWII, her understanding of land and territory is conceptualized by the words “theirs” and “ours”. For this room full of soldiers, the Scottish Highlands is the property of the English monarch. Claire is an outspoken woman even in her own time, and now she’s crossed a definite line by entering a realm of discussion that she's not welcome to hold an opinion on.

Then of course we get an unpleasant visit from Jack Randall, who immediately recognises Claire from their altercation in the forest.

I initially felt that Claire seemed far too antagonistic and fiery around a man who had attempted to rape her (it’s okay to let her show fear and vulnerability in such a scenario) but then I conceded that she’s probably still confused over the fact that he’s the splitting image of her husband; is in fact his ancestor.

So what follows in their interactions is a rather heart-rending attempt from Claire to establish a rapport with this otherwise loathsome man; reminded every moment of her own loving husband. A quick flashback establishes a further link between them: Claire witnesses Randall getting shaved, and recalls a similar time in which she did the same to Frank (told you that razor was symbolic!)

Credit has to be given to Tobias Menzies for differentiating between Frank and Jack so thoroughly – they speak, move and even look different despite being – you know, the same actor. It’s not quite a Tatiana Maslany level transformation, but then again, it shouldn’t be. There needs to be enough of a resemblance beyond the physical for Claire to let her guard down around him.

Having found in him the empty dining room, what can only be called a “casual interrogation” follows. Randall is convinced that she’s a spy of some kind, and having already played the part of the English Rose for the benefit of the other Englishmen, Claire now slips into the role of Lovelorn Fool. She spins a story about how she followed a man to the Highlands, another acceptable role for a woman, but uses her true emotions to infuse it with sincerity. In between her lines of loving a soldier only to find that he was cruel and unworthy is her own experience of following Frank to Scotland and finding Jack Randall instead. Naturally, he doesn’t buy her story for a second.

It’s uncomfortable watching how Randall owns the room; how the two of them partake in a sinister game of musical chairs as they move about, with Randall deliberately sharpening a pencil with his knife and sketching her portrait (I initially assumed it was to cross-check her story with the officers, but perhaps it was just to unnerve her) before sharing his own story.

He describes flogging Jamie in erotic terms (exploding, shaking, fluttering are but three of the adjectives in his monologue) but manages to fool Claire into thinking he’s ready to change over a new leaf. And once again, Claire slips into a role, this time as the typical “missionary”, the type of woman that so often likes to rehabilitate broken men.

Of course, this is born out of Jack's likeness to her husband and her recognition of what sounds like PTSD, but for a second there it really feels as though she loses her centrality in the narrative; that by offering Jack her sympathy and comfort the scene becomes more about him than her.

And how many times have we seen a female character become subsumed by her desire to “save” a man from himself? You certainly feel the first hint of that when she begins to insist upon his capacity for redemption. Suddenly the scene revolves around his experiences.

And yet Frank is playing with her just as surely as she initially tried to play him. He certainly doesn’t regret flogging Jamie and his sadistic streak is demonstrated when he promises to take her to Inverness, ascertains that she’s happy about it, and promptly punches her in the stomach when she stands.

I half expected it, and it was still pretty shocking.

While on the floor he orders one of his underlings to kick her, and in a strange way I find this sort of snivelling coward (who reluctantly obeys) to be worse than Randall. That youth, however cowed he may be and however much he believes he has to follow orders, knows on a fundamental level that kicking a woman is a terrible thing to do – you can tell by the expression on his face. But he did it anyway. Though we know next to nothing about this character, it’s an uncomfortable reminder of how easy it is to do something terrible simply because we’ve been told to.

But luckily Dougal is at hand to stop things getting further out of hand. I would appreciate this newfound rapport between the two of them more were it not for that damn altercation in the corridor of a few episodes ago. My only choice at this point is to pretend it never happened. And you don’t need me to explain the implications of that.

But he also comes up with a plan that will keep Claire out of English hands: marry a Scotsman. Jamie in fact – who has been absent for most of this episode, another fantastic reminder that though he’s technically the leading man, this is Claire’s story and he is her love interest. And another fun subversion in their courtship is established – only one of them is a virgin, and it’s not the heroine.

So it ends on Claire agreeing to marry Jamie in order to protect herself from Randall. From her attempt to connect with the man whose hereditary line will eventually lead to the birth of her husband springs the irony of her having to marry another man in order to protect herself from him; eventuating in the very unfaithfulness that Frank himself half-expected of her back in the very first episode. On the heels of Doctor Who, I can’t help but feel that this is a time-travelling trope at work, though on a much more subtle level than anything to be found in that other sci-fi show.

As it happens, this may well be my final Outlander review. Though I’ll continue to watch and no doubt post my final thoughts at the show’s conclusion, I only ever started in order to tide myself over until Sleepy Hollow returned – and since there’s only so many hours in the day, I’m going to put this one on the backburner for a while.
 

Outlander: Rent

Outlander is one of those shows that I appreciate instead of enjoy (much less adore). I appreciate that that lead character is a woman and that the story is told exclusively from her point-of-view. I appreciate the gorgeous scenery and the attention to historical detail. But I’m not gripped by what’s going on here.

As we saw at the end of last week, Claire is travelling with the clan to collect taxes, discovering that Dougal is gathering a bit on the side. She assumes this is for himself after witnessing him tearing off Jamie’s shirt to reveal his scars to the assembled villagers, using it to convince those gathered to denote more money on top of the taxes. It’s only when she hears the word Stuart does she recognise that all this is not for personal but political gain. These guys are Jacobites, and Claire is suitably humbled.

But hang on, this demonstrates that Dougal is not as bad a guy as we originally thought. Yet didn’t he attempt to rape Claire just a couple of episodes ago? Jeez, what is up with the bizarre mental disconnect between the depiction of rape and the expectations of television writers? It’s like how we were all meant to keep shipping Jamie/Brienne on Game of Thrones an episode after he raped his sister beside the body of their dead son. (Ever thought there’d be cause to write that sentence?) Such things don’t make a show “edgy”, they just end up alienating most of the audience.

I’ve learnt since then that this particular rape attempt didn’t even happen in Diana Galbaldon’s book, and I’m left wondering why on earth the writers would want me to invest in a character who recently assaulted our heroine. So when the episode ends on something of a cliff-hanger in which Dougal’s safety hangs on Claire’s testimony after they’re approached by English soldiers asking whether or not she’s being held against her will, I’m honestly not sure how I’m supposed to feel.

I get the feeling we’re meant to hope she protects the man who recently assaulted her, but as moral conundrums go, I can’t say I’m too riveted.

What a headache, especially since most of the stuff with the Scotsmen was nicely played. Jamie is quietly supportive, Claire makes friends with Ned Gowan the lawyer (they bond over poetry which is sweet), and the moment she makes Angus (?) laugh with a dirty joke feels genuinely earned. I’m even willing to take the Scots’ brawl in defence of Claire’s honour in the spirit with which it was meant. (I generally can’t stand the “how dare you insult the woman in our possession!” trope).

But the best part would have to be Claire meeting several of the Highland women and embracing her “when in Rome” attitude, first with helping them with their “waulking” (yes, they really did use urine to cleanse wool of any impurities) and even hitching up her skirts to contribute to the piss bucket.

So far all the women in this show have been friendly and supportive of each other, and Claire even puts herself in serious conflict with the boys to return a goat to the community for a needy baby. Of course, it just lands her in further trouble, and catches the attention of Jeremy Foster, an English officer (and presumable spy) who ends up following the group with reinforcements.

I gotta say, Claire is a lot braver than I am. I have to admit that if I was in her circumstances I’d be keeping my mouth shut and my head down.

Then of course, there’s the time-travelling element. Up until this point, it’s simply been used as an easy way to set the scene and the protagonist’s personal storyline, with only a few little moments here and there demonstrating Claire’s foreknowledge. But on learning that the people around her are preparing for a conflict that will end at Cullonden (which as Frank says, more or less ends the rebellion and their way of life) Claire feels compelled to do a little meddling.

So will the usual rules of time-travel apply? Can she change the past? Set right what went wrong? Now that the question has been opened as to whether or not Claire can change things, the story can perhaps begin to explore what has otherwise been an extremely light treatment of its sci-fi element.  

Outlander: The Gathering

So it wasn’t just me, this episode was a bit of a dud, right? It was comprised of three distinct parts which had absolutely no thematic or narrative connection to one another, and which all conclude in disappointing anti-climaxes.

We start with Claire continuing to plan her escape by tying hair ribbons to tree branches in the woods, covering her actions with a hunting game she plays with the local children. She’s got a horse and provisions prepared, and she believes that the upcoming Gathering – in which every man of the clan swears their allegiance to Colum – will provide the perfect distraction for her nocturnal escape. She’s even got a sedative prepared for her personal guards.

So she’s plotted her escape with a fair amount of guile, but it all comes to naught when she bumps into Jamie and is informed that the woods are guarded by extra men. Just like that, she gives up.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the requisite attempted rape, not only from a bunch of drunken men, but from Dougal, who initially saves her from the aforementioned drunks. She clouts him over the head with a stool and Jamie laughs it off, telling Claire that a) Dougal was drunk, and b) he won’t remember it in the morning.

I’m not sure how to react to this, for up until this scene I found Dougal to be one of the show’s strongest characters. He’s rightly suspicious of Claire, his rivalry with Jaime is interesting, and I’m not quite sure where he stands in regards to his brother. Is he as loyal as he says, or is he just waiting for the opportunity to slip a knife in between his ribs?

He gets more interesting material later when it comes to his interactions with Jaime and Geordie, but for me it’s always going to be tainted by his attempt to force himself on Claire. And no, I don’t want to hear the old “that’s how it was back then” excuse – rape has never been condoned in the manner with which it was depicted here, and from a Doylistic point-of-view it’s a clear indicator that we’re not supposed to trust or like any character who partakes in it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. After her escape attempt is thwarted, Jamie offers to escort her back to the castle, only to get roped into the Gathering. Turns out this creates something of a Succession Crisis. If Jamie swears allegiance to Colum, he’ll become his legal heir and so bump Dougal out of his position, but if he doesn’t swear allegiance it’ll be considered a dire insult that demands retribution. Either way, he’ll earn both men’s animosity.

Claire is distraught, whispering “it’s all my fault”, even though it’s technically the fault of the men who are keeping her at Castle Leoch against her will, and Jamie for not coming up with a simple excuse to avoid the great hall. But luckily, though Jamie is stymied at the thought of simply not entering a room, he finds a loophole in the technicalities of the oath-swearing in a way that placates both men. The problem is resolved before you even have a chance to hold your breath.

Finally, the last quarter deals with a pig hunt that Claire is super-indignant about considering it involves the death of a poor defenceless pig. Hey, you do want to eat tonight, don’t you? But after the pig fatally gouges a man to death, Claire wins the respect of Dougal by not only handing the blood and gore, but easing Georgie into a peaceful death with talk of his home.

Oh, and early in the hunt, Dougal actually saves Claire’s life by shooting another pig that was all posed to charge her. If not for the attempt rape in the corridor, I’d be officially more intrigued by the Dougal/Claire dynamic than the Claire/Jamie one.

So Dougal commissions Claire to travel with him on his journey to collect taxes from the surrounding neighbourhood – and the episode ends on a rather ominous note as she accompanies him and the other men into the countryside.

Altogether, this episode wasn’t particularly compelling, though I liked the odd little scene here and there. Laoghaire’s request for a love potion and Claire appropriating lines from The Wizard of Oz was very cute (though I’m sure it’ll be back to bite her later on), and Geillis continues to read Claire like an open book in regards to her plans and intentions.
On that note, I love that there has so far been three major female characters on this show, and all of them (Laoghaire, Geillis and Mrs Fitz have shown friendliness and solidarity to Claire – though when the inevitable witch accusations emerge, there’s a good chance that Laoghaire will turn on her).

The voiceovers are still awful, and this week were even spliced BETWEEN spoken lines of dialogue; so superfluously that it beggars belief. The 1950s music that softly plays as Claire moves through the corridors of the 18^th century castle is a much better way of showing us what’s going on in her mind.

And we get a look at Shinty – a game where apparently the only rule was no eye gouging. Yikes.

Oh, and apparently Diana Gabaldon had a cameo appearance in this episode – she was the woman on the balcony that told Claire to “shush.”

Outlander: The Way Out

In this third episode, the show seems to be settling into its themes and story, with Claire still negotiating elements of 1743, but gradually learning how and when she can assert herself.

In a nice touch, the episode opens with a scene from World War II, where Claire bids farewell to Frank at the train station during which he quietly points out: “this is backwards.” It is indeed a role reversal of gender types, as most train station farewells depict the man in the train and the woman running alongside, waving her handkerchief as the steam billows around her.

This flip on expectations was on display throughout the episode, from Jamie and Claire’s rapport of equals, to Geillis’ clever handling of her husband, to Claire’s daydream of Mrs Fitz turning on her in fear ultimately contradicted by a scene in which the older woman supports Claire’s plea to let her tend to a sick boy.

With that in mind, there’s plenty of female solidarity on display here, from Claire attempting to be Laoghaire’s wingman (woman) in her attempt to snag Jamie’s attention, to Geillis convincing her husband to go easy on the young thief born partly out of Claire’s concern, and the aforementioned support Mrs Fitz gives Claire in the face of the ominous priest.

I like that we’re still getting glimpses of Claire’s old life in the midst of his 18^th century story. The 1940s was very much a period of transition and seeing Claire struggling to cope with the differences between the centuries is brought into stronger relief by the fact that she’s not from our time. It’s a period piece within a period piece, and in a way that gives Claire the advantage of not being too shell-shocked from the loss of modern technology, whilst still being shaken by some of the customs that go on around her.

Just think about how different this show would be if Claire came from 2014 instead of the 1940s.

She’s also intelligent enough to realize some of the dangers inherent in the past; namely the marriage of superstition and sexism that could very easily lead to the conclusion of: “witch!” Her daydream about Mrs Fitz turning on her with fear and loathing was indicative of this latent fear (one that was portrayed without any need for a voiceover!), and though she ends up as an ally to Claire, the priest’s anger and embarrassment that he’s been shown up by a woman will surely be back to haunt her.

(As an aside, I think they went a bit overboard in the depiction of this guy – not just the dismal attitude, but the heavy dark shadows around his eyes. He was practically the Grim Reaper!)

I’m also a bit worried about Geillis. The woman oozes mystery, and yet seems to be testing Claire somehow. Between her red hair and her herb-craft she’s a shoe-in for the role of witch, and her interest in Claire leads me to suspect that she suspects there’s more to her new friend than meets the eye. Given that the harpist at the end was singing a tale that reflects Claire’s experiences, perhaps there’s a chance that this sort of time-travelling malarkey has happened before.

But most of this was the details. The main gist of the plot involved Claire attempting to get into Colum’s good graces by working as an obedient healer – yet her success with Colum’s leg pain and the boy’s “possession” only makes her more valuable to the community. In the latter case she and Jamie form something of an investigative team when it comes to exploring a place called Black Kirk, where boys go to “prove their manhood” and consequently get gravely ill.

The townsfolk put it down to demonic possession, but Claire naturally concludes they’ve been eating something that’s bad for them. Due to her already-established skills at botany and her historical foreknowledge (though she slips for a second and asks if the monks come from “Germany” instead of “Prussia”) she identifies Lily of the Valley, a plant that’s very similar to the harmless wood garlic.

It was a great way of crafting a plot that catered to a character’s abilities without feeling hopelessly contrived (off the top of my head, Once Upon a Time too often contorted itself in the attempt to make a plot hinge on Belle’s love of books).

Ultimately this episode explores the world that Claire has found herself in, even as she tries to escape it. It delves into the good and bad qualities of a community and those who are shaped by it, so even as Claire is witness to a terrible brutality (the young thief who gets his ear nailed to a pillar) and animosity (the antagonist priest) she’s also privy to vulnerability among its strongest members (Colum and Jamie’s self-consciousness about their respective injuries), familiar patterns of behaviour (Geillis gently manipulating her husband without him realizing it, Laoghaire making a pass at Jamie) and moments of unexpected insight (the Scotsman at the table telling Claire that Jamie needs a woman, not someone who will be “a girl until she’s fifty” and Mrs Fitz making a stand for her nephew’s life in direct contrast to Claire’s worst-case-scenario daydream).

And then there’s that which comes entirely unexpectedly but naturally – a rapport with Jamie that allows the two of them to communicate without words, to effortlessly pull off a rescue of the young thief from the pillar, and to talk as equals without emasculation or posturing. As with last week, I’m still not entirely captivated by the romance (yeah it’s weird, as I know that for some people it’s the only reason they’re watching) but I’m glad that the show is taking its time in establishing their attraction to each other.

Outlander: Castle Leoch

I felt this was definitely an improvement on the first episode, which was achingly slow and filled with too many meaningless voiceovers. But this managed to create suspense out of its unhurried pacing. On arriving at Castle Leoch with Jamie and the other Scots, Claire attempts to get her bearings, blend in as much as possible, and find transport back to the standing stones (her only chance of returning to the 20^th century).

I’m only an amateur historian, but I’d like to think that the minds behind Outlander made a supreme effort to keep everything on-screen as accurate as possible, whilst not sacrificing the natural beauty of the world around them. Too many historical films/shows skew too heavily in one direction or the other: everything is either dirty and miserable looking, or too pristine and pretty.

But Outlander hits that perfect note of realism and splendour that lets you enjoy the scenery without getting pulled out of the time period. More than that, the director actually brings the audience up close and personal with some of the details: the books, the food, the carvings, and the clothing. A “getting dressed up in contemporary garb” montage was always going to be inevitable, but I like that the show takes its time with these sorts of things. If you’re watching a time-travelling adventure, then it should be a given that exploring the past is where a viewer’s interest lies.

And maybe it was just my imagination, but I liked that Claire’s entire posture and appearance changes once she’s in period clothing. It indicates that she not only suits these clothes, but the lifestyle as well (or so I’m assuming – this is all going to end with her staying in Scotland, right?)

Caitriona Balfe as Claire is still the bedrock of the show, depicting Claire as a sensible woman in an out-of-control situation. As it happens, I’m also watching Orange is the New Black, and I can’t help but compare Piper’s gobsmacked terror at being in prison to Claire’s forcible attempts at composure and refusal to be cowed as she flounders to acclimatize. (Not that Piper’s behaviour is any less valid).

Claire is a woman in over her head, but one that rises to the occasion. Sometimes we need women who respond exactly as we would in any given situation; sometimes we need women like Claire who can cope better than we could ever dream. I love how she clings to her medical training to ground herself (though this works a little too well considering Colum opts to keep her on at the castle as its healer) and that you never lose the sense that this is a legitimate fight for her survival in a potentially hostile environment.

With that said, I felt that her anger at being followed and watched by Colum’s spies was a little over-the-top. Surely she’s intelligent enough to realize that her best option was to simply go with it and provide them with nothing to report back rather than getting stroppy and opening up questions as to why she doesn’t want to be followed. I suppose she looks more “spirited” this way, though up until this point she appeared much too smart to get aggravated over this.

Like I said earlier, I’m glad there were fewer voiceovers, for the show managed to convey an important fact perfectly well without one: at the dinner table with Colum where Claire is concocting her backstory, we briefly segue into a scene with Frank discussing the best way to design a cover story, and then back to Claire doing precisely that. This is how information should be conveyed – we know what she’s doing and why, and we didn’t need her to explain it to us.

(Yet having pulled this off smoothly, the script falls straight back into the same technique when Claire leaves the room and informs us that the Scots were deliberately plying her with food and drink to bring down her guard. Yes Claire, we had that figured out for ourselves based on the glances Colum and Dougal were casting each other right over your head).

Which brings me to the other thing I appreciate about the show: those living in the past aren’t idiots. It’s always too easy for time-travellers to end up in the past and find themselves surrounded by uncouth morons who are easily dazzled by future ingenuity, but here it’s obvious that the Scots are intelligent enough to realize something’s up with Claire, to poke holes in her story, to provide a watch over her, to act with common sense on their own turf – all of which leads to Claire being forced to remain among them.

But on that note, Randall does not make for a particularly interesting villain – not yet anyway. I’m afraid I can’t quite grasp the meaning behind having the same actor play both Randall and Frank. Is it like how Captain Hook and Mr Darling are usually played by the same person? Is it to subconsciously tell Claire that she shouldn’t return to her own time? Haven’t quite figured that one out.

We do however, get ourselves the beginnings of a female friendship! Geillis Duncan introduces herself to Claire, providing wisdom on herb-craft and quiet translation in the meeting hall. Herself an enigmatic presence who provides healing (or at least abortions) to the girls in the village, you get the sense that it’s not just her abilities but her attitude that has rumours of “witch” going around.

And I can’t believe I’ve gotten to the end of this review without mentioning Jamie. This is decidedly odd considering he’s no doubt the draw-card for a lot of female viewers. I like him well enough, but he seems just as out of step in this time period as Claire does, coming across as more of a romantic ideal than an actual person. Hopefully the show will let him have a bit of character that goes beyond “dangerous but chivalrous outlaw”.

Miscellaneous Observations:

Bear McCreary is a gift. Can he score every TV show ever? The song for the opening credits in particular is beautifully done, with images from the 18^th and 20^th century interspersed.

There were a couple of familiar faces here, namely Gary Lewis as Colum MacKenzie and Laura Donnelly as Jenny Fraser. The former was solid as usual, (would it have even been possible to make a show set in 18^th century Scotland without him?) but this is the third time I’ve seen the latter playing a character who seemingly only exists to be brutalized and/or killed. And on a show that otherwise caters to the female gaze, the ripping of her clothing felt utterly gratuitous.

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but I was sure at times there were trickles of modern (relatively speaking) music in the score, quietly invading the Scottish setting. If so, it’s a subtle way to remind the audience of Claire’s displacement.

The great hall has got to be the best set in the show, giving ample opportunity to explore the quiet politics of the court: all those glances and words between brothers, servants, spouses and strangers. What is it about court intrigues that are always so fascinating? Maybe it’s because our predilection for gossip is put into a setting where it doesn’t have to feel like a guilty pleasure.

Outlander: Sassenach

For reasons I can’t quite explain to myself I decide to watch Outlander. Here’s my background on the source material: I’ve never read the books. I know that Diana Gabaldon made a rather ridiculous summation of fan-fiction a few years back in which she compared it to white slave labour. I know that Orange is the New Black summarized it thusly:

 Hey, why not?

Here are my brief thoughts on the premiere (I can’t promise there will be no snark involved).

Claire Randall was a WWII nurse, now on a second honeymoon with her husband Frank in an attempt to reconnect after so many years apart. They go to the Scottish Highlands, visiting various old castles and investigating Frank’s family lineage with help from Hugo from The Vicar of Dibley.

It potters about for a bit as the couple explore the countryside, learn important bits and pieces about local history, and have sex in various locations, all with the help of Clare’s interminable voice-overs.

Seriously, END VOICE-OVERS. I’ve said this recently in relation to Winter’s Tale, but it was infinitely worse here, with Claire either describing the obvious, sharing meaningless exposition, or interrupting fairly intense scenes in order to narrate what was going through her mind. Here’s a helpful hint: if you don’t think that your audience is intelligent enough to grasp what’s happening without a voice-over to explain it, then I can assure you that the problem is with your writing.

Finally though Claire returns to a circle of standing stones for flowers, is rendered unconscious by some powerful force, and wakes up in 18^th century Scotland. Running into a man who is the splitting image of her husband (and played by the same actor) she soon realizes that Jack Randall is an unpleasant brute and narrowly escapes rape at his hands by the intervention of a Scotsman.

He takes her to rejoin his companions in a nearby hovel, where she meets Jamie MacTavish, the thinking woman’s Edward Cullen. He’s much hotter than her husband. Just saying.

In fixing his dislocated shoulder and warning them of an ambush site she earns some degree of trust from the Scots, and the episode ends with them approaching a castle that she visited back (forward?) in the 20^th century.

As I mentioned before, I haven’t read the books. I know they’re hugely popular (the words “sweeping romance” seem to pop up a lot in reference to them) but if that’s the case, I’m not entirely sure the show has captured its spirit. That is to say, I wasn’t really caught up the mystery and magic of the whole thing – not yet anyway.

I appreciated that the time-traveling aspect was subtly played – no flashing lights or weird special effects, just a cut scene to Claire’s comparative experience in a car crash (the only time the explanatory voice-over feels justified) before she wakes up in the same place, different time – and perhaps with a deeper colour palate than the more sephia-toned 20^th century scenes, reminding me of the transition between Kansas and Oz in The Wizard of Oz.

I think by this point I’ve read so many time-travelling stories that this feels like well-trod ground (the Identical Ancestor for example) though there were unique details that I enjoyed: the fact that Claire is not a contemporary woman but from the 1940s, which already gives her a sense of displacement in the minds of the audience, and that she is rescued from Randall not by Jamie but by a very short and hairy Scotsman, leaving the romantic meet-cute to operate under the Florence Nightingale Effect.

 

There are a few inadvertently funny bits (in her Establishing Character Moment Clare is introduced as a field nurse, yelling instructions over a badly wounded man, wiping sweat/blood off her forehead with her sleeve, and taking a swig straight from a wine bottle) but for the most part it’s solidly put together. “Solidly” is just not the same as “elegantly,” that’s all.

The interminable voice-overs is the worst offender, which is so invasive and jarring that I wanted to yell “shut up!” a couple of times. They occur during sex scenes, chase scenes and suspense scenes, and most of the time they’re superfluous anyway.  Likewise, there’s some clunky exposition that serves to blatantly foreshadow what’s going to happen later, including the requisite fortune telling that predicts aspects of Claire’s contradictory future.

But Claire makes for a strong protagonist, with an intelligent, melancholy air about her, and a good grounding in medicine and botany. In other words, she’s not just a blank slate for female audiences to graft themselves onto in their enjoyment of Jaime’s bewilderment and eventual love, but a fully-realized grown woman who has her own backstory, interests and skill set.

People talk a lot about “catering to the male gaze” when it comes to nudity and sex scenes on television, but I think there’s also something to be said about shows that abashedly target a female audience by presenting them with female protagonists who only exist as empty vessels for audience surrogacy. Because that’s still putting the male character first.

But Caitriona Balfe as Claire is easily the strongest part of the show – at least at this point. She’s a clearly defined individual, but she’s also an everywoman, reacting to her impossible circumstances with the same amount of fear, confusion and helplessness that you’d expect (no inexplicable kung-fu powers manifest themselves here). But it’s when her nursing instincts kick in that she really shines. This is something that she’s good at, that she knows she’s good at, and which wins her tentative respect and trust in a manly man’s world.

This episode’s best scene is easily when she tends to Jamie under the watchful eye of his bewildered Scottish brethren, barking orders and expecting them to be obeyed – and because she acts as though she has authority, they are obeyed.

I’m ready to enjoy Outlander. I’m not strictly a romantic, but I like a good love story as much as the next person, though what I’m really hoping for is to get swept up in its premise. A 20^th century nurse is now stuck in 18^th century Scotland. I want to see how she’ll deal with that.