I’ve never been the biggest fan of Torchwood. I acquired the first season on Blu-ray one day because – due to a promotional deal at a bookstore – I was able to do so for free. At the time, I was actually looking forward to it: an entire show based around the ever-likable Captain Jack Harkness and set in the malleable universe of Doctor Who was certainly worth a peek. However, the show turned out to be pretty bland, harping on a lot of tired sci-fi plots without adding much of interest to give it its own personality. Even Jack – now completely bereft of personality or dynamism – couldn’t breathe any life into it. But that changed with Children of Earth. I originally downloaded this to use as background noise while I worked, but found myself too engrossed to turn away and sat there – glued to my monitor – for five straight hours while the drama unfolded. While this is far from flawless, it is engaging, intense and an excellent realization of the “grown-up Doctor Who” ideal that Torchwood was always meant to embody.

Children of Earth is a five-part miniseries that essentially tells a good old-fashioned alien invasion story. In fact, Russell T. Davies can be seen to be reusing a number of his old Doctor Who stories, recycling and recombining them here to tremendous effect. This series borrows the biting political commentary of “Aliens in London/World War Three” (though notably now devoid of the glib asides and farting aliens) and the morally taxing final decision of “The Fires of Pompeii;” but it most immediately draws upon the fear of the unknown and resultant paranoia from “Midnight.” Much like that body-snatching thingamajig, the alien of Children of Earth never receives a name (being referred to solely by the frequency with which it communicates: 456) and its physical presence on screen is severely limited and often obscured by clouds of gas. And even this minimal presence isn’t bestowed upon it until the third episode. Prior to that, the only sign we have of the creature is one very ominous machination: its ability to seize control of all the world’s children, make them freeze in place and speak in perfect unison: “We are coming.” This is itself reminiscent of the Sycorax blood control techniques from “The Christmas Invasion” that had one third of the world’s population standing on rooftops, prepared to jump, and it does an excellent job of setting the tone of the series, establishing the alien menace and hooking the audience early on.

 The ultimate revelation of the alien itself and its reason for coming to Earth do little to detract from this menace. The thing the 456 wants is actually a bit on the hackneyed side, as are certain other subplots – such as the government hunting the members of Torchwood and even climactically blowing up their base to set up a cliffhanger. However, these things do a good job of keep the tension high and while the basic idea of an alien wanting to abduct children or the government silencing the heroes and thus preventing them from being properly heroic may lack in originality, their implementation here does not. Of particular note is one scene where the government agents are trying to figure out exactly how to dispatch the immortal Jack Harkness and the solution they eventually settle upon is appropriately gruesome. Also, while the idea of an alien possessing and abducting children may come straight out of The Village of the Damned, the reason it wants them is truly unique and, to use the local vernacular, bloody fantastic. It’s every bit as sadistic as it is petty and not at all what you would expect it to be and it fits perfectly with the morality play that is the main thrust of the narrative.

This drama is centered on the political leaders who have to decide whether or not to accede to the 456’s demand. This is easily the most engrossing part of the story and certainly the most haunting. Forget all the kids in the world chanting “We Are Coming.” Forget them all turning and pointing toward the center of London. Watching the leaders of the world sit around a table and discuss exactly which portion of the each nation’s children are to be culled tends to be the more chilling because it carries with it that extra air of plausibility. Much like with Doctor Who’s “World War Three” story, where it was very easy to believe our leaders would be so easily duped into armed aggression against a nonexistent enemy, the scene of these same leaders trying decide the best criteria for choosing the children (of course, eliminating their own kids as viable candidates right from the start), then the most efficient means of transport and then how best to spin it to the public carries with it a certain cold realism. This conversation strikes a chord because it is so unbelievably believable. We don’t want to think our leaders would assess this situation so coldly, but when we see it here, we don’t doubt it for a second. Really, the only nit to pick is that one wonders whether a democratically elected official like the Prime Minister of Great Britain would opt for such an obtuse and detectable utilitarian rationale for child selection over a more politically acceptable random or census-based lottery. But the option they do take does have an element of classism and elitism that certainly blends well with this darker take on human nature.

However, while the discussion of how best to acquiesce to the alien’s demand is handled with near perfection, the celerity with which all governments agreed to this acquiescence must be called into question. While there is a lengthy discussion held about how to deliver the children, there is really no time devoted to a discussion of whether or not they had to. Every government on Earth simply agreed that resistance was pointless based on the flimsy justification that they couldn’t detect the alien’s ship. Compare this to a real world corollary in Osama Bin Laden. We don’t know where he is and we know that he could – if he wished – organize attacks that would mean civilian deaths; yet if he sent a list of demands – whether egregious or paltry – not one nation on this planet would even consider acceding. It just seems unlikely that certain more militaristic countries – like North Korea, Iran or even America – would cave so easily to a threat that offers nothing to substantiate itself.

After all, while the alien in question does have a very scary evil alien voice and a fairly intimidating teleportation beam, it offers nothing but vagaries and never solidifies itself as a threat. It says it will wipe out the human race, but never says how. While it does later on release a biological agent and that agent certainly seems fatal, it also seems to lack in resilience, as it is contained to one building, doesn’t kill everyone in it and is quickly cleaned up by human Hazmat engineers in under a day. Even then, if one accepts the bio-weapon justification (and one could conceivably see various nations back down after that demonstration), that weapon wasn’t utilized until well after all the governments agreed to the alien’s demands. It still works, in a way: the idea of our leaders succumbing to fear, which clouds their judgment. But unlike “World War Three” – where that fear led them to lash out impulsively – it only leads to cowardly capitulation here; and while that is certainly one plausible reaction for a nation to have, not all of them and not so readily. It stresses credulity a bit over the limit to assume that every nation gives in without any show of force beforehand.

One other small issue is the ending. The ultimate resolution to the 456 problem reeks of last minute technobabblery and feels very much like one of the cheesier Doctor Who resolutions. The dramatic element that is added to it also feels a bit contrived, as it is tied to a couple of characters that were very obviously introduced solely to facilitate this end. They serve really no other purpose in the series except to maintain a presence throughout so we don’t forget who they are and so they can be where they need to be in the end. And since this ending is so mired in that accursed technobabblery, the unfortunate choice that had to be made is not as organic as it should be and doesn’t create the pathos that it needs to work. We know why it has to happen as it does. We get it. It kind of makes sense. We understand it in a very fact-based, objective kind of way that doesn’t create a natural swell of emotions, but rather a very transparent Pavlovian trigger that dictates to us: “Feel this way.” So, even if it works, it feels very forced.

That said, it does add that layer of grim complexity to Jack that was woefully absent from Torchwood’s first season. Jack may not have his pizzazz from his Doctor Who days (though he does have his moments), but at least now he’s interesting. In this story, he oscillates back and forth from being everybody’s favorite wise-cracking 51^st Century, pansexual, All-American action hero to being a more monstrous and amoral figure every bit as bad as the government officials and the 456 and this oscillation is a very fluid one. It never creates a break in the characterization. Throughout his every moment in this story – whether he is nobly saving his friends or bending to the will of the evil alien child abductor – he is very much Captain Jack Harkness.

To sum up, Torchwood: Children of Earth is great. Russell T. Davies manages to recycle some of his old Doctor Who scripts into something far grimmer. No flying police boxes, no time travel, no space. This is Doctor Who without the Doctor or rather this is the Doctor Who universe without the Doctor. Throughout the Doctor Who revival series, we are constantly told how humans will spread out across several galaxies, forging at least four great and bountiful human empires, but whenever we see our modern day world deal with aliens, the Doctor is always there to negotiate the threat for us. Now, for once, Earth is besieged by a global alien crisis and it stands alone without the Doctor’s knowledge and, just as important, without his unbridled affection for the human race. Children of Earth – an all-too-appropriate title, as this is the story of humanity – doesn’t show us what we could be or what we should be, it shows us what we are. In essence, it is what Torchwood was always meant to be: mature, blunt, and frankly earthy. It is a grounded story of humanity’s struggle with its own weaknesses and that is Torchwood and, in fact, science-fiction at its very best.