“They say the best conspiracies involve the fewest conspirators, but I’m not so sure. I think the biggest ones involve a lot of people, most of whom have no idea what they’re part of…and never live long enough to find out.”
Captain Jack pays a home visit to a reclusive corporate weapons magnate. Crippled in a limo accident, he’s been back on the global scene, wheeling and dealing with the tyrants of the globe…so why is he still hiding out in his lonely estate…and seemingly still a cripple?
Who are Ovid? And what are they after?
“You’re not police.”
“Definitely not. Though the uniforms are kind of hot.”
Whew, this one gets a bit weird…particularly when Neil has…er…”a moment” with his doppelganger…before turning into a peek freak…of “his own” intimate adventures! The ultimate in narcissism? Talk about being in love with yourself…yeesh.
I can only gather it’s being played for the (black) humor, but…yeesh.
Then things get pretty dark, as we start hearing hints of neutron bomb-like military AI designed to make “smart missiles”…yeah, it’s Torchwood, alright.
John Barrowman delivers a more typically assured Captain Jack than we saw a few months back with The Conspiracy. Arrow fans should recognize enough of the trademarked Barrowman persona to keep them comfortable, but the arched eyebrow and flippant sexual innuendo is all Jack. Always a pleasure to hear (or see) the man in action.
Steven Cree has a much harder…and queasier role to essay here, with any sympathy the “real” Neil Redmond may elicit morphing into something far sicker.
“I’m a fantasy. I’m either the man you want to be or the man you want to have…I won’t get upset that you don’t call me back, and I won’t stalk you online or leave messages on your voicemail. I don’t have mood swings and I don’t sulk. I’m perfect…so what are you waiting for?”
While obviously some sort of a metaphor for homoerotic dating (or more accurately, a sort of wish fulfillment variant thereto), the simple fact is that this one’s all about narcissism to a twisted extreme: self-love and masturbation (albeit with a sort of self-faced blow up doll) in honor of nothing further than oneself.
And any psychologist will tell you exactly where sociopathic narcissism can lead.
Perhaps an all-too apt commentary on modern culture, Uncanny Valley may in fact be “uncanny”, but it certainly represents a decided “valley”, sociologically speaking, that this sort of thing exists, and would therefore need to be commented upon.