The path to the ‘celebrity historical’ in Doctor Who is paved with good intentions. We’ve had one attempt this series already with Victory‘s Winston Churchill, the man who among other things helped popularise the term ‘black dog’ . Richard Curtis’ Vincent and the Doctor is a different breed however, being distanced somewhat from pure entertainment and unlike its predecessor striving for that difficult stool between didactic and emotive. It’s a Richard Curtis story – your mileage may vary.

It is also the story of Vincent van Gogh, a man perversely celebrated as much for his torments as his triumphs. Who knows how he would have reacted to becoming a poster boy for mental illness, and is that a question worth asking? It’s important to have these figures with us, to acknowledge the place such stigmatic afflictions had in their lives and how they lived with them. It’s a challenging notion to make a story about them though, particularly one for Doctor Who which despite our protestations does not usually strive to challenge. For myself I’m torn with this episode, certainly not viewing it as coldly as Neil Perryman’s withering critique on Behind the Sofa, but I do think in places it over-reaches itself, which isn’t to say these stories shouldn’t be attempted, but that perhaps the series isn’t yet as robust as it could be to sustain them without, well, a giant invisible CG chicken in tow. So it’s a brave thing to have done, and for the most part it works. It certainly looks beautiful.

Beauty alone is not enough however, and so I must also acknowledge the performances. Tony Curran’s version of the painter certainly looks the part, inhabiting the screen as befits a character afforded his own name in titles ahead of the Doctor. Having not seen Lust for Life and only shades of Andy Serkis’ portrayal of van Gogh in Simon Schama’s History of Art, I have to confess some ignorance into the man behind the masterpeices, but Who‘s historical figures usually tend toward the vague sketch or broad brushstroke themselves. This is not a revelatory biography, unless you somehow believe the presence of the Krafayis to be a genuine ingredient in the master’s last days. Given the series’ track record the best we can hope for is something sympathetic and believable – two ticks there. Having Bill Nighy hammer home the context of van Gogh’s work in the history of Western art certainly helps shift that uncomfortable didacticism, and for what it’s worth I’m rather tickled by the Doctor revealing that he’s more of a Gainsborough fan – another subtle distancing from the Time Lord’s more emotive predecessor, perhaps?

In the end though, a better class of story for this series, and despite my misgivings above one with a pretty sound emotional core, strengthened by insisting that history run its course, and wisely panning away from Vincent’s inevitable and necessary demise. Wellington’s first TV script for Doctor Who is ultimately worthy for surprising with its choice of topic and sensitivity of its approach to an equally troubled and gifted man.

PA

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