The Frontiers of Immortality
MARCH 4, 2008 TAGS:
By Joyce Millman
Captain Jack Harkness is The Man Who Can’t Die. Well, technically, he can die, he just can’t stay dead. As the time-traveling hero of BBC America’s rip-roaringly entertaining Doctor Who spinoff, Torchwood, Jack has been drilled with machine gun fire, shot point-blank in the forehead and tossed off the roof of a skyscraper. The list goes on. “Fell off a cliff. Trampled by horses. World War I, World War II, poison, starvation, stray javelin . . .,” he recites, matter-of-factly, in a guest appearance on Doctor Who. Shortly after each demise, Captain Jack awakens none the worse for wear. In fact, he remains quite the dish. Dramatically clad in a long RAF captain’s coat emphasizing his broad shoulders, with a manly cleft in his chin, twinkly blue eyes and a cocky, matinee-idol grin, Jack resembles a super-sized Tom Cruise, minus the side order of crazy.
A brief recap: Jack, played by John Barrowman, first appeared on the BBC’s revamped Doctor Who in 2005 as a swaggering, mortal – and merrily bisexual – space rogue. A former secret agent and con man from the 51st Century, Jack eventually died helping the Doctor fight the nefarious Daleks. But he was inadvertently brought back to life by something called “the power of the Time Vortex.” Long story short: Immortal.
Torchwood, which is perhaps the most overtly homoerotic sci-fi series of all time, was spun off from Doctor Who in the United Kingdom in 2006, and became BBC America’s highest-rated series ever when it reached the United States in 2007. (BBCA is currently airing the second season on Saturdays at 9 p.m.) On Torchwood, Captain Jack is the leader of a clandestine, and very horny, five-person squad that regularly saves Earth from alien invasion. (The squad is based in Cardiff, Wales, which apparently sits atop a time-space rift. Who knew?) Jack sometimes puzzles over the meaning of his resurrection. But, like a good soldier, he accepts his immortality as if it were a mission, one made endurable by the privilege of being around to witness the tenacity of life in all forms. When an old boyfriend asks him how it feels being reborn into “this godforsaken mess,” Jack answers intensely (Jack can’t walk down a street less than intensely), “These people, this planet, all the beauty you could never see – that’s why I come back!”
Dashing, yes, but Captain Jack is hardly unique – he’s the latest in a long line of sci-fi immortals, from Dracula to the Highlander to Adam Monroe from the TV series Heroes to the nearly-immortal Doctor Who himself (900 years old and still winsome, thanks to his ability to regenerate a new body when the old one is used up). It’s not hard to see why immortality is one science fiction plotline that never gets old. Sci-fi is the modern equivalent of fairy tales, and death is one of the deepest, darkest forests through which fairy tales lead us. Who hasn’t imagined living forever, outsmarting that crabbed and beastly villain, Death? But leave it to sci-fi, the province of dreamers and skeptics alike, to find the dark lining in the puffy white-cloud fantasy of everlasting life, to introduce the idea that death might not always be the bad guy.
Sure, immortality has its upside. As Captain Jack demonstrates, humans tend not to sweat the small stuff, like sexual labels, when they’ve been around forever; Jack will happily seduce anything that moves – male, female, indeterminate. But immortality has its downside too, especially for someone as vain as Jack. “I keep wondering, what about aging?” he asks the Doctor. “’Cause I can’t die, but I keep getting older. The odd little gray hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?”
Good question. Here’s another: If you lived forever, what about all the goodbyes you’d have to say? Who would want to go on eternally, yearning for everyone they’ve ever held dear? Think of the lonely Dracula in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 revisionist version, pining endlessly for his long-dead Elisabeth. Or Doctor Who, in the manic but melancholy current incarnation played by David Tennant, pushing potential girlfriends away to protect himself from inevitable loss.
In the 1986 movie Highlander, which spawned a long-running syndicated TV series, the titular Scotsman belongs to an ancient race called the Immortals, who can’t procreate and can only die if they’re beheaded by one of their own kind. The Immortals compete against each other to be the last one standing and, thus, win “The Prize.” And what is The Prize? Mortality. The Immortals want to live and die as normal men. Highlander echoes an ages-old theme in literature and legend, the rejection of an unnatural eternal life. As far back as Homer, Odysseus spurns the smitten nymph Calypso’s offer to make him her immortal husband; eternal life means nothing to him without his beloved wife Penelope, for whom he risks his life to return. In Pinocchio, the sentient puppet longs to be a real boy, and, in a manner of speaking, so do Highlander, Captain Jack and Angel, the soulful, do-gooder vampire from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. To this list of wistful immortals, we can now add John Amsterdam, the hero of the Fox series New Amsterdam, which premieres March 4 at 9 p.m.
Amsterdam (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) is a broodingly handsome and world-weary NYPD homicide detective who has stayed 35 years old since 1642. As a Dutch soldier in the New World, he was gravely wounded preventing a comrade from killing a Native American woman. The woman performed a bit of magic to save his life, intoning, “You will not grow old, you will not die, until you find the one, and your souls are wed.”
The series pilot, directed by Lasse Hallstrom (My Life as a Dog, Chocolat), evokes the loneliness and boredom of immortality. The pilot is shot in muted colors that suggest the timelessness of Amsterdam’s existence; sepia photos of old New York City blur into the current skyline and we see through Amsterdam’s jaded eyes how the city hasn’t really changed, merely acquired layers of wear. We see Amsterdam in flashbacks through the centuries, trying to remain engaged with life by taking on new identities and careers. And every time someone tries to tell him a joke, Amsterdam laconically supplies the punchline. Yes, he truly has heard that one before.
The only thing that really piques Amsterdam’s interest is finding “the one,” the soul mate who will restore his mortality. He will feel it in his heart when Ms. Right is near, explained the Native American priestess. So when Amsterdam has a heart attack and dies (briefly) while chasing a murder suspect across a subway platform, he figures he’s getting close. Excited by the prospect of almost being able to die, he tries to identify every woman who was on the platform that day. “If I can find her, it will all have value. Time will have value,” he says. Amsterdam seems so aroused by his brush with mortality, it seems as if he’s in love with death itself, has imagined it as a true femme fatale playing “hard to get.”
New Amsterdam may not be all that new – the immortal soldier in New York City shtick borrows a bit too handily from Highlander. Still, its appealingly Byronic protagonist puts a romantic spin on the whole push-pull paradox of life and death. Philosophizes Amsterdam, “To be human is to die. To die is what makes life worth living. It’s God’s joke.” And it’s a good one, even if you’ve heard it before.
Joyce Millman is a TV and pop culture critic and the co-author of The Great Snape Debate (Borders/BenBella).
Captain Jack Harkness is The Man Who Can’t Die. Well, technically, he can die, he just can’t stay dead. As the time-traveling hero of BBC America’s rip-roaringly entertaining Doctor Who spinoff, Torchwood, Jack has been drilled with machine gun fire, shot point-blank in the forehead and tossed off the roof of a skyscraper. The list goes on. “Fell off a cliff. Trampled by horses. World War I, World War II, poison, starvation, stray javelin . . .,” he recites, matter-of-factly, in a guest appearance on Doctor Who. Shortly after each demise, Captain Jack awakens none the worse for wear. In fact, he remains quite the dish. Dramatically clad in a long RAF captain’s coat emphasizing his broad shoulders, with a manly cleft in his chin, twinkly blue eyes and a cocky, matinee-idol grin, Jack resembles a super-sized Tom Cruise, minus the side order of crazy.
A brief recap: Jack, played by John Barrowman, first appeared on the BBC’s revamped Doctor Who in 2005 as a swaggering, mortal – and merrily bisexual – space rogue. A former secret agent and con man from the 51st Century, Jack eventually died helping the Doctor fight the nefarious Daleks. But he was inadvertently brought back to life by something called “the power of the Time Vortex.” Long story short: Immortal.
Torchwood, which is perhaps the most overtly homoerotic sci-fi series of all time, was spun off from Doctor Who in the United Kingdom in 2006, and became BBC America’s highest-rated series ever when it reached the United States in 2007. (BBCA is currently airing the second season on Saturdays at 9 p.m.) On Torchwood, Captain Jack is the leader of a clandestine, and very horny, five-person squad that regularly saves Earth from alien invasion. (The squad is based in Cardiff, Wales, which apparently sits atop a time-space rift. Who knew?) Jack sometimes puzzles over the meaning of his resurrection. But, like a good soldier, he accepts his immortality as if it were a mission, one made endurable by the privilege of being around to witness the tenacity of life in all forms. When an old boyfriend asks him how it feels being reborn into “this godforsaken mess,” Jack answers intensely (Jack can’t walk down a street less than intensely), “These people, this planet, all the beauty you could never see – that’s why I come back!”
Dashing, yes, but Captain Jack is hardly unique – he’s the latest in a long line of sci-fi immortals, from Dracula to the Highlander to Adam Monroe from the TV series Heroes to the nearly-immortal Doctor Who himself (900 years old and still winsome, thanks to his ability to regenerate a new body when the old one is used up). It’s not hard to see why immortality is one science fiction plotline that never gets old. Sci-fi is the modern equivalent of fairy tales, and death is one of the deepest, darkest forests through which fairy tales lead us. Who hasn’t imagined living forever, outsmarting that crabbed and beastly villain, Death? But leave it to sci-fi, the province of dreamers and skeptics alike, to find the dark lining in the puffy white-cloud fantasy of everlasting life, to introduce the idea that death might not always be the bad guy. Sure, immortality has its upside. As Captain Jack demonstrates, humans tend not to sweat the small stuff, like sexual labels, when they’ve been around forever; Jack will happily seduce anything that moves – male, female, indeterminate. But immortality has its downside too, especially for someone as vain as Jack. “I keep wondering, what about aging?” he asks the Doctor. “’Cause I can’t die, but I keep getting older. The odd little gray hair, you know? What happens if I live for a million years?”
Good question. Here’s another: If you lived forever, what about all the goodbyes you’d have to say? Who would want to go on eternally, yearning for everyone they’ve ever held dear? Think of the lonely Dracula in Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 revisionist version, pining endlessly for his long-dead Elisabeth. Or Doctor Who, in the manic but melancholy current incarnation played by David Tennant, pushing potential girlfriends away to protect himself from inevitable loss.
In the 1986 movie Highlander, which spawned a long-running syndicated TV series, the titular Scotsman belongs to an ancient race called the Immortals, who can’t procreate and can only die if they’re beheaded by one of their own kind. The Immortals compete against each other to be the last one standing and, thus, win “The Prize.” And what is The Prize? Mortality. The Immortals want to live and die as normal men. Highlander echoes an ages-old theme in literature and legend, the rejection of an unnatural eternal life. As far back as Homer, Odysseus spurns the smitten nymph Calypso’s offer to make him her immortal husband; eternal life means nothing to him without his beloved wife Penelope, for whom he risks his life to return. In Pinocchio, the sentient puppet longs to be a real boy, and, in a manner of speaking, so do Highlander, Captain Jack and Angel, the soulful, do-gooder vampire from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. To this list of wistful immortals, we can now add John Amsterdam, the hero of the Fox series New Amsterdam, which premieres March 4 at 9 p.m.
Amsterdam (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) is a broodingly handsome and world-weary NYPD homicide detective who has stayed 35 years old since 1642. As a Dutch soldier in the New World, he was gravely wounded preventing a comrade from killing a Native American woman. The woman performed a bit of magic to save his life, intoning, “You will not grow old, you will not die, until you find the one, and your souls are wed.”
The series pilot, directed by Lasse Hallstrom (My Life as a Dog, Chocolat), evokes the loneliness and boredom of immortality. The pilot is shot in muted colors that suggest the timelessness of Amsterdam’s existence; sepia photos of old New York City blur into the current skyline and we see through Amsterdam’s jaded eyes how the city hasn’t really changed, merely acquired layers of wear. We see Amsterdam in flashbacks through the centuries, trying to remain engaged with life by taking on new identities and careers. And every time someone tries to tell him a joke, Amsterdam laconically supplies the punchline. Yes, he truly has heard that one before.The only thing that really piques Amsterdam’s interest is finding “the one,” the soul mate who will restore his mortality. He will feel it in his heart when Ms. Right is near, explained the Native American priestess. So when Amsterdam has a heart attack and dies (briefly) while chasing a murder suspect across a subway platform, he figures he’s getting close. Excited by the prospect of almost being able to die, he tries to identify every woman who was on the platform that day. “If I can find her, it will all have value. Time will have value,” he says. Amsterdam seems so aroused by his brush with mortality, it seems as if he’s in love with death itself, has imagined it as a true femme fatale playing “hard to get.”
New Amsterdam may not be all that new – the immortal soldier in New York City shtick borrows a bit too handily from Highlander. Still, its appealingly Byronic protagonist puts a romantic spin on the whole push-pull paradox of life and death. Philosophizes Amsterdam, “To be human is to die. To die is what makes life worth living. It’s God’s joke.” And it’s a good one, even if you’ve heard it before.
Joyce Millman is a TV and pop culture critic and the co-author of The Great Snape Debate (Borders/BenBella).
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