Is it fair these days to expect a lot from a series/new Doctor/companion/production team Christmas story?

The Eleventh Hour was a story largely about an earthly child who meets a recognisable alien at stages throughout their life, each contributing to inform the adult they would become. One series on with all of the above to take into consideration you’d expect to be seeing much the same thing, the requirements being more or less identical. However, since then the series has been at pains to outdo itself. Series finales and Christmas specials have come and gone, each besting the previous in spectacle. Story arcs have had emotional undercurrents, and the Doctor’s own personal emotional journey is something now traced in parallel with those of his mortal accomplices. Continuity has been built upon, extrapolated, and of course introduced anew, but left open in ways sometimes frustrating to the regular viewer.  So how, with all of this beforehand, were Moffat, Wenger and Willis to continue the show – potentially a more daunting task than resurrecting it, without upsetting its faithful viewers while attracting more?

The answer appears to be: change little visually and tonally and change much narratively. Much has been made by now of Moffat’s use of time travel as a narrative device, and of his emphasis on the time-less Doctor on the linear lives of those around him. The latter is uncannily on the button, with Matt Smith’s first ‘real’ scene as the Doctor delayed to great effect. Of course we saw him last Christmas and yes, he’s still very much on-form, but as the story opens who do we meet? Ebenezer Scrooge stand-in Sardick. Not the miserly caricature we’re expecting of course – it’s another instance of delayed gratification, as though Moffat’s saying “I know you know who these people will be, or who you think they will be, but have a look at this instead!”) And of course some of it is a trick. Bits of former stories and beats stitched together form the back-story of A Christmas Carol, particularly Moffat’s own past stories for Who, but as in Rose the story isn’t the thing, rather it’s the meeting of the Doctor and Sardick, and of course Young Sardick is as crucial to the character of older Sardick, as his love for the poor, doomed Abigail is, as witnessed in the Doctor’s gradual visits. It’s clever of the writer to play on this; for the past five years we’ve become used to finding out little bits about the Doctor – his recent past, his world, feats, mistakes and personality. Here Moffat mines the other aspect of the established Scrooge story, and gives us someone whom we initially despise, then find ourselves asking more questions about as the story unfolds. By the end of the tale whether you saw the countdown on Abigail’s casket or not, MOffat’s hooked us in with the catankerous old miser, and the result is probably the best and definitely the most Christmassy special of the new series yet.

It’s difficult to review Matt Smith’s performance without echoing so many reviews already available – very physical yes, but in a less-stagey way than his predecessor’s affectations. This new Doctor moves in mysterious ways, but in a natural manner – Matt Smith is either some sort of genius or he’s genuinely like this – all fingers and thumbs, near-constant expressions of surprise and gangly walk. In the body of another actor it could make for a tiring show – so much of this screams how NOT to play the Doctor, but I don’t think Smith is putting anything into his performance that isn’t already there (certainly his Jonathan Ross interview demonstrates much the same body language). Tempering this is a less manic style which takes him away from simple caricature and into something just as believable and natural. I think he’s a truly engaging figure, and can only agree that he is a real ‘find’ for the Doctor – young, physical, charismatic, but comfortably distanced from those same notes hit by David Tennant. His quiet moments with the Young Sardick were the highlight for me, but I do wonder how much longer the showrunner can rely on the gimmick of his ability to traverse established history. Something to look out for in stories to come.

It could be an interesting ride, and perhaps that’s the key-word to Moffat’s new style, ‘revision’. After five years the risk of things going stale was palpable – particularly after what almost amounted to a year-off with heavy saturation for Christmas in Tennant’s the previous year (it seems so much longer ago now!) You get the feeling that Matt Smith’s Christmas offering is ever-so-carefully weighed and measured to ensure enough familiarity is there while opening up new ways to bring the audience in. And it’s carried off so well, and so very effortlessly – a companion to the bombast and spectacle of the RTD era (a flying shark!), but skewed enough emotionally to unseat one’s expectations from time to time. I’m happy to say I laughed a lot during this episode, and warmed once more to Smith’s interpretation (isn’t he good with kids?). Perhaps in summing up I could say that what needed the sense of change was not so much the series, but, like the story’s anti-hero himself, this ever-so-humble viewer. And I’m happy enough with that.

And we’re back in the room!
A: After the episode 12 climax I did worry about how the conclusion could possibly follow that. I suspect that the previous team might have tried to go even bigger (until we inevitably got something to do with displaced planets) but here they opted instead to change tack completely and go for something more intimate and sentimental. I think it was, once again, absolutely the right choice to make. When we finally reach the unhappy day of Matt Smith’s regeneration story, I can’t think of a more spectacular, heroic or heart-rending way for him to go out than using the very last of his life to fly the Pandorica into an exploding TARDIS and reboot the universe.

P: The pullback was probably the best thing about this story, with the first part being such a tease. It’s become a signature thing for Moffat over longer stories though, hasn’t it? Silence in the Library was about the vashta nerada, but really was about River and the Doctor. Time of Angels was River, then Angels, then the Crack. The Pandorica Opens was the Box, then the Alliance of enemies, then (thankfully) another pull back to the museum piece – the threat striped down to one petrified Dalek and the collapse of time. A great example of the budget restrictions working in harmony with the storytelling (but which came first, hmm?)

A: It strikes me is how timey-wimey Moffat has been over this whole series. Getting guest stars to record an extra scene not to be screened until episode 12 (or 13 in young Caitlin Blackwood’s case) sounds simple logistically, but the level of forward planning is undeniably impressive. I was delighted to see, too that the ‘continuity error’ from Flesh and Stone which you maintained held greater significance, and I didn’t even notice, absolutely paid off. I take my fez off to you!

P: It is very clever – production-wise it’d have been a doddle, but it’s a deft touch which makes the series look that extra bit more planned. In terms of narrative it’s almost worthless, particularly when there’s a telephone in the TARDIS to do much the same job (and potentially the Dalek Supreme at the other end with a handkerchief over his mouthpiece)

A: The Moff really show’s his four dimensional dabbling to it’s advantage in episode 13, having the Doctor work his own time stream like a Time Lord triumphant, without the anguish and pomposity. (Or maybe more like Marty McFly in Back to the Future 2?) It’s refreshingly fun. Compare the ensuing year of anguish and humiliation suffered the last time the Doctor had the tables so neatly turned on him by an enemy (The Sound of Drums), to the sheer lunacy of his popping out of thin air a few moments after his apparently inescapable doom in a fez and holding a broom under his arm.

P: Maybe it’s the body language (which i LOVE about Smith) but there was something utterly barmy about the fez and mop. They’re a bit of a cliche – the fez certainly is to a UK audience, but it works for me in a way that Tennant’s 3-D specs just didn’t.

A: Is the ‘anything that can be remembered can come back’ recurring theme a comment on the revival of the programme itself? It seemed impossible that he could ever come back, but we never forgot about the ‘daft old man who stole a magic box’. And continuing with your body language comment: didn’t Matt Smith look so much like an old man, in the best possible way, when he spoke that line? At the end of his first series, I can absolutely see why the Producers were convinced that one of the very first actors they auditioned was ‘the one’. It gives me supreme faith in their judgement for anything else they wish to do with the series, including, controversially, not tying up all the loose ends this time.

P: Yes but this is also the man who doesn’t like repeats (which is disappointing. I guess I’ll never get to see Web of Fear episode 2 now)

A: As much as I enjoyed this years ‘grand finale’, it does make me think about how esoteric these conclusions have become since the programme returned.
We’ve had Rose conveniently become a goddess, everyone in the world say the Doctor’s name at the same time, the Doctor-Donna doing ‘something’ with a Dalek computer console and now the Doctor returning from oblivion because Amy remembers him. I’m not complaining, but it seems that the Doctor used to solve problems so much more prosaically in the past. There’s something a little more rewarding in seeing the him triumph against the odds in ways that ordinary humans like ourselves could conceivably manage, through straight-forward bravery and resourcefulness – or even simple good luck.

P: There’s certainly less fluff and dodge this time than with racing technobabble and shouts of “if only… but OF COURSE!” sort of thing, but the crossing his own timestream thing is a trick that Moffat’s Doctor can surely only perform once and under special circumstances. How cool it was to see though that he didn’t squander it with just the one story but used it to revisit aspects of his recent past (and it didn’t even take seventeen minutes this time Russell!)

A: I understand that one of the scenes dealing with the power of remembrance apparently includes a quote from Robin of Sherwood, which no doubt had extra resonance for you?

P: Yeah sort of. The power of the legend, the man who transgresses bodies to become bigger than the original. ‘Nothing is Forgotten’ was the theme of Michael Praed’s departre from Robin, and continued well into the ‘next’ Robin, Jason Connery. It was a useful device to remind viewers that they were supposed be seeing the same Robin, while onscreen activities were often at pains to distinguish the two men. The Doctor is like that too, with the audience/production team tension – a sort of viewer required-doublethink. in this instance of course we’re not dealing with the new guy taking over the shoes of the old; we’re at the end of the Eleventh Doctor’s first year, so it’s onwards and forwards, so the ‘legend’ aspect of that phrase in this instance has more to do with him remaining in Amy’s mind. It’s a lovely scene, and another one on my list of ‘great quiet moments’. Very moving, the muted, occasionally cracking words of a dying man to someone with a whole new life ahead of them.

“Spoilers, sweetie…”

And so to our concluding two-parter. In lieu of reviews fellow ZB-reviewers Peter and Al have carried on a conversation about each episode. Feel free to pitch in at any time!

P: After a pretty good year despite the challenges of a reduced budget, a year off and a new team to usher in, surely you can forgive Steven Moffat a little indulgence – and here it is, the longest pre-credits sequence of the entire series. It’s a quickfire surprise second lap around a lot of the earlier stories courtesy of some sneaky extra scenes, and of course the expected return (one of a couple) of River Song in her most Harkness-like performance. It’s all build-up, and what a build-up! Stonehenge, eh?

A: I remember reading a report in a copy of Starburst magazine, back in the late 1980s about the ‘upcoming’ Doctor Who movie. It excitedly mentions the script featuring ‘strange explosions and lights at Stonehenge, and alludes to comparisons with ‘another adventurous Doctor, with the surname of ‘Jones’. You have to wonder if a younger Steven Moffat might have read this with as much excitement as we did, and remembered…

P: Stonehenge is an idea so iconic it’s amazing it never got used.

A: Agreed –maybe it’s because Quatermass nicked it?
Anyway, surely the highlight was the ‘monster mash’ at the end of the episode.  I’m relieved that episode 13 immediately took a different direction because I just can’t imagine what the assembled alliance of enemies would have done next. Stood around in little cliques, perhaps, balancing wine glasses and hors d’ourves while chatting about what they’re going to do now that he’s out of the way?

P: Oh, there would have been blood. You wouldn’t expect any of that lot to settle for doing away with the Doctor and then heading for home. The idea was a nice rug-pull moment, especially so for the bravura performance by the Doctor and his handy mic on the stage stone. Fancy bluffing his way out of a confrontation he couldn’t hope to win, then to not only discover that there was to be no confrontation (well, not of the sort he’d imagined), but that the prison box he’d hoped to defend was in fact a trap for him? That’s clever, and a clever inversion of course of the original myth, with, literally, all the evils in the world sealing Hope (in the form of the Doctor) into Pandora’s empty box.

A: Inversion is a good word to use. I liked the idea that the Doctor hadn’t heard of the ‘warrior-trickster with the blood of whole races on his hands’ whom the Pandorica was built to imprison, because from his many enemies point of view –it was him.

The various monsters appearances were well handled, and thankfully managed to avoid bearing any resemblance to Dimensions in Time. Perhaps it was a logical step, having already had a ‘league of companions’ in Journey’s End, but having the ‘big three bads’ and supporting nuisances from the past five years was still a fan dream well-realised.

P: The choice of aliens strikes me as simultaneously sensible (recent, recognisable monsters) and a little strange (Weevils? the Hoix? Pilot Fish?) I’ve read comparisons to Dimensions in Time, but the main thing surely is the brevity of the whole bit. They’re simply a shorthand for ‘all the Doctor’s enemies’ rather than a literal depiction. I’m glad the Weeping Angels weren’t there, and ecstatic that the Slitheen weren’t bobbing their heads away like dashboard ornaments. Oh, and how good was it that Christopher Ryan was on hand to play Strak, only the second actor after Kevin Lindsay to play two different clones! Plus it saved Nick Briggs having a three-way conversation with himself.

A: Yes, and wasn’t it gratifying that the Sontarans were by far the most charismatic of the assembled villains – but we’ve always known that!

P: I see those Daleks were being filmed very judiciously again though – once more from head-on angles only. It stings to have such an obviously bad profile, doesn’t it?

A: Wasn’t the earlier ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks meets The Thing’ Cyberman sequence absolutely fantastic? I’m loathe to admit that the Cybermen could quite easily appear a little dull by comparison to some of the other, more emotional creatures in ‘Ep 12’ – but Amy’s encounter achieves what Dalek did for a lone specimen of that race back in 1995 – and shows how terrifyingly relentless a single Cyberman can be.

P: Not before time, I thought, with The Next Doctor having been such a damp squib for them. I really enjoyed the Cyberman scene, and it’s worth noting that I didn’t even bat an eyelid when a headless Cyber-body was walking around – I’d have freaked as a teenager! I also took note of the Invasion-style Cybership in the sky too – a good decision given the range of vehicles on offer (saucers are now definitely a Dalek thing, while the 80s Cyberships are just too blocky for the Deco-revised Cybermen).

A: Well spotted.  I’d love to take a bit of time over screen-grabs of that scene – the astonishing detail is so briefly glimpsed; making me think of enormous, bioluminescent deep-sea creatures.  It was a carefully saved –up for ‘money shot’ which the previous team might have killed for.  Speaking of them, Russell T Davies was never shy to depict all types of sexuality in his stories. With Moffat taking over I’ve wondered what agenda he might choose to pursue – and now I think I’ve discovered it. The Doctor wastes no time in attributing the Cyberman’s battered state to an encounter with one of the Producer’s early ancestors: “Never under-estimate a Celt!” Pro-Scottish propaganda can be found throughout this series if you know where to look – and why not indeed?

P: That Cyberman of course came to grief at the hands of another important element to this episode – namely Amy’s literal knight in shining armour, Rory. His return must be oe of the least surprising elements of this year, yet I like the way it’s been handled, and in an episode of big surprise reveals, his actually comes across as a quiet one, despite the heroism. God I like Rory – I can even forgive his Mickey-like reinvention as a hero here because Arthur Darville’s made what is still quite a sketchy character wonderfully rounded.

So much going on, and we’ve not yet got to the triple-header climax. The Doctor trapped, Amy dead, Rory a plastic killer! Now that’s how you end an episode… 

The end is in sight.  The grand two-part finale of the most anticipated series since 2005 is just around the corner, but before we get the Moff’s kitchen sink thrown at us we must first sit patiently through the curtain raiser.

Episode 11, or sometimes 10, is traditionally experimental (to varying degrees of success), with deliberately humble production values and the reduced participation of one or both of the Leads.  It used to be known as the ‘Doctor-less episode’, but in the case of The Lodger, the very reverse is true.  More than any other episode to date, this is ‘The Doctor Show’; to the extent that this week’s ‘alien menace is very much sidelined by what would normally be the ‘B’ plot – the ‘human’ interest story.  Gloriously centre-stage is the Doctor trying to live as ‘an ordinary bloke’ until he can be reunited with the two significant others in his life (both making as much noise as each other during Amy’s brief but loud scenes in the runaway TARDIS).

This is a rich seam which Gareth Roberts exploits well for its comedic value, bringing back the soccer stardom and electric toothbrush/sonic screwdriver confusion of his original comic strip.  The episode itself is a refreshingly fun take on the Human Nature/Family of Blood scenario, making an episode-long gag of the Doctor’s attempts to be human. It’s a strong enough idea to have supported entire series in the past, from My Favourite Martian to Mork and Mindy and beyond, and very few tricks are missed here.    I really should stop making comparisons with David Tennant, but the tenth Doctor, who fell in love at least three times and even became homo sapiens briefly, was by far the most human, whereas Matt Smith is very much continuing the legacy of Tom Baker, who felt duty-bound to constantly surprise the audience with the Doctor’s alien-ness. The Lodger is a tour-de-force for Matt Smith and his unpredictable, increasingly delightful performance.

The eleventh Doctor completely misses the minutiae of human society: air-kissing everyone he meets and un-self-consciously regurgitating wine (disgustingness is a recent trait, apparently) but he sees straight to the heart of the larger, more important issues.  The Doctor immediately understands Craig’s relationship dilemma, when to let a difficult customer go and even how to inspire Sophie to follow her dream.  Perhaps if Rusty was still holding the reigns he’d find a way to create another spin-off series – ‘Matt about the House’, anyone?

But being Doctor Who there is also an alien threat to be dealt with, lurking at the top of Craig’s stairs. Passers-by anxiously climbing towards that flickering, buzzing room is a nightmarish image, reminiscent of a carnivorous plant luring insects into its lethal clutches, but its power becomes a little diminished after the third or fourth repetition.  This time the menace is of the non-adversarial kind, a mechanism blindly carrying out its programming in the way that Moffat often employs in his stories.  Visually, it’s nice to see echoes of the TV Movie, and given Amy’s ‘contribution’ to this story it’s appropriate that another scene featuring lots of sparks and shouting should also take place on a set which looks like a TARDIS.

The Lodger is ultimately a warm, happy and extremely funny episode (wouldn’t The Three Doctors have been so much more amusing if the eleventh’s method of psychically imparting information had been used back then?  I don’t doubt Troughton and Pertwee would have risen magnificently to the occasion).  This script is a Godsend for Matt Smith and he seems to know it, pitching every nuance, line and gesture perfectly.  And he can even talk to cats – the Doctor rocks, indeed!

Garnished with nods to the past reaching as far back as The Time Monster (I’ll resist making a list, but do have to mention ‘Jubilee Pizzas’) and topped with the third ‘past Doctors roll call’ this year, The Lodger is an extremely satisfying entrée to savour before the colossal main course and dessert arriving next. 

AH

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

We Who fans are an odd bunch. Given truly beautiful prosthetic designs we pine instead for the return of wibbly-wobbly rubber heads. The reasoning that the Earth Reptiles should be given the same treatment as the stunningly-realised New Earth cat people – enabling the actors to emote with their own eyes, seems sound, but is the final result really a Silurian? Part of me wishes that the path of the Judoon rather than the Cat Nun had been followed in bringing Homo reptilia back, but as the story progressed I began to see the advantages in the range of emotion allowed. This particular reviewer doesn’t see the various comparisons to Babylon 5 bandied about on the Net as a bad thing. But then again, if those creepy snake-like battle masks could have somehow been animatronically enhanced – I’d have been very happy with that, too.

I’m less conflicted about the rest of the story. Since its return, Doctor Who has made us laugh, cry and squee, but rarely has it managed to crank the tension up as much as the first part of The Hungry Earth did. Particularly as darkness blotchily filled the entrapping dome, accompanied by a ‘Hammer films meets James Horner’ score, a real capacity for this story to frighten began to emerge. Sadly, this could only be sustained for so long, and is rapidly dissipated under the sobering blast of a fire extinguisher.
The ensuing ‘revelation’ that the Silurians are really very like ourselves is possibly disappointing for newer viewers, but absolutely necessary for the purposes of the plot. And the plot itself has been doing very well thank you, since it was first unveiled in 1970, and brought back now for it’s fourth time. The Doctor, Homo sapiens and reptilia seem doomed to perform the same roles every time they meet, unsuccessful arbitrator over the same territorial dispute, again and again. Looked at in a positive light, this can only be a testament to the power of Malcolm Hulke’s original concept, a bona fide modern myth that is only slightly adapted in it’s retelling but never changed, and probably never will be.

In this 2010 rendition, the tasering to death of a restrained prisoner is an echo of the brutality which Chris Chibnal displays in some of his Torchwood work, but a dirty job which needed doing to serve the story. Meanwhile, in their Pellucidar-like city, we find that the Silurian triad has been reshuffled a little. The impetuous, angry youth is now a female warrior who kills the peace-seeking scientist, while the wise and venerable leader survives to negotiate again in one thousand years time. But will mankind have changed that much by then?
Once again, rather than be constantly elated by the achievements of humanity, the Eleventh Doctor is more often disappointed. Look at the conflicting emotions clouding his face as he says goodbye to Ambrose. The Doctor knows she’s only human, but could have, should have been so much more. I’m lagging behind as usual, but it’s in this story that Smith really clicks for me, particularly in another exchange with Nia Roberts. When quietly letting her know his attitude toward the make-shift weapons she’s stockpiling, he’s both gentle and quite unnerving at the same time. Whereas Tennant might have quite acceptably blustered his way through this scene, here is a Time Lord who barely needs to raise his voice above a murmur. Smith’s ‘older man’ body language and mannerisms are compelling to watch, surprising us when he then suddenly bounds out of shot like the 28 year old he is.

This two-parter story leaves you with the uncomfortable thought that it might have all been the Doctor’s fault. Would Ambrose have killed Alaya if the Time Lord had been more concerned about letting Elliot out of his sight? Perhaps another aspect of his not quite connecting with humans is the Doctor allowing someone showing the most capacity for intelligence and understanding to place himself in danger, despite the fact that this person is only a child. Elliot’s assurance that he ‘gets’ what Silurian Patriarch Eldane is aspiring towards seems to hold promise for the potential of human generations to come. But we’re certainly not there yet.
Perhaps also on the Doctor’s conscience is the outcome of his putting curiosity before the safety of his friends. These final few minutes suddenly take a neatly-concluded story in a direction which reminds us just how suddenly and badly things can go horribly wrong. It was sad enough that Donna can never remember the Doctor, but that poor “fantastic Rory, funny Rory, gorgeous Rory” will be totally forgotten by the woman who finally grew to love him is heart-breaking.

AH

What a find in Simon Nye! Assuredly not a Sci-Fi writer, but this is a series that is apparently and doggedly resisting the urge to give in to such impulses. Nye’s sitcom output (usually aided by Martin Clunes, he of another gifted face for failure) is the stuff of Amy’s Choice – regret, missed opportunity, middle-aged angst, the fear of anonymity and mediocrity. It’s no wonder that the Doctor, the apparent enemy of these things, is tapping his foot impatiently as soon as he arrives in Upper Leadworth to find a pregnant companion ‘settled’ (and how that word hangs with contextual meaning).  A far cry from gun-toting Rose Tyler or Dorothy McShane who could “just run and run”.

So Amy is to be the focus of this story. An interesting observation from my domestic viewpoint really because on our viewing my beloved and I both confessed to finding the character a little bewildering and distracting because of Ms Killan’s continued resemblance to a family member. Eek. Meanwhile my missus kept tabs on Amy’s pregnancy continuity (“her belly’s shifted down again” “She shouldn’t be eating raw batter!”) Neither of these are likely the stuff Moffat and Nye wished their audience to wrestle with, yet as things go it is a pretty good story for Amy, particularly upon Rory’s ‘death’ and inside the TARDIS against the Dream Lord and his rather splendid lounge lizard routine (nb: if he’s the Doctor’s Id does this particular projection speak of unspoken desire or outright denial? Maybe that’s what the end of Flesh and Stone was supposed to telegraph?)

Bringing out the alter ego is Toby Jones, surely known (if at all) to this generation’s younger viewers as the voice of Dobby the House Elf. Short and vaguely crumpled in stature Jones has a wonderful face, reminiscent of a middle-aged James Bolam – at times soft, toylike and vulnerable, but with drooping eyes that can narrow and a sour, down-turned mouth conveying spite and jealousy, those self-same negative egoisms ideal for fuelling his persona. His projection of the Dream Lord in voice is condescending, yet a step short of sneering, but most definitely mocking without resorting to pantomime. He’s an excellent choice for a role that in less talented hands (and in the hands of a less-talented writer) could have sunk to the level of Bad Joker or two-bit trickster. He’s better because of the subtlety and, again, what’s not said between him and the Doctor. Terrific eye acting from him and Smith sells the character, especially the Doctor’s last look out the van’s passenger window before Amy makes that rather mind-boggling choice.

And mind-boggling it is, coming from a pregnant woman intent on self-destruction. All for Rory? True, the last couple of episodes have been invaluable at fleshing out his personality – I really like the guy, even if his ponytail – was it ever going to convince anyone that this would be a credible future let alone reality? And yet we’ve seen the plonker side of Amy’s beloved before – his tiny torch in Vampires of Venice (such a cruel innuendo, Mr Whithouse!) and the obvious near-miss of his profession as nurse rather than doctor. His ‘death’ commits the small crime of being rather too rushed to be as monumental as it ought to be to the narrative – I suspect poor direction, but as I noted earlier, Gillan’s reaction saves it.

This is a story that relies on a strong directional hand. I’m not sure Catherine Morshead carries it off completely – she’s no Adam Smith, but it’s a tough assignment striving for verisimilitude in two fictitious, dream-like locations. The freezing TARDIS is a wonderful visual, especially so for the now quite metallic interior, and its exterior recalls The Web of Fear‘s smothering silk cocoon, and I was sad to see that we’re unlikely to return to Upper Leadworth, whose monsters continue to be of the Sarah Jane type, as in The Eleventh Hour. Perhaps small towns get the alien threats they deserve? As monsters go they’re actually less threatening than the Afternoon Tea of the Nearly-Dead shambling behind zimmer frames and walking sticks (“amble for your lives!!”), but as Big Finish’s recent Stockbridge trilogy shows, sometimes the series’ big monsters are best left out of Who‘s little villages.

There’s a fair bit to speak of yet, but I’m drifting. In short, I’ve not laughed with an episode quite so much since Smith’s debut. Lovely to revel in the bad taste of granny bashing (it’s NOT “un-PC” if the politically correct thing to do is not hit people. That’s just common sense!) and the final twists were rather well concealed, and I like that too. Lest we invoke the dreaded ‘V’ word, I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by discussing the Sixth Doctor’s ultimate foe in the same sentence as the Dream Lord – they really are separate ideas, separate entities. I dare say they are seprate aspects, and that the ‘darker side’ of the Doctor; meddling, sinister and playful, a tormentor, is a necessary step removed from the avaricious demon who is simply after his past lives and past life’s future.

Is Jones’ character worth a return visit? In very measured doses, perhaps. And yes, let’s definitely have more from Simon Nye.

PA

Enjoyable Romp ™, anyone?

The previous adventure was a harrowing one for both the Doctor and Amy, as well as the audience, and so a light run-around in 16th century Venice, with added Rory for comedy relief would seem like just the ticket.  The pre-credits sequence is possibly the funniest ever, showing that after 900 years the Doctor may never quite ‘get’ humans, an aspect which Matt Smith is using beautifully in his portrayal.

Taking Rory and Amy to Venice as a pre-wedding gift is a commendable gesture and it does ultimately repair the couple’s relationship, in unexpected ways. Personally, I’m uneasy with the concept of the Doctor as a galactic gooseberry, and the fact that even though Rory appears to be the most ineffectual of all TARDIS boys, he also seems least likely to fall into line.  Even the irrepressible Jack quickly learned his place in the space of one story.  But we all know that the essence of good drama is conflict, so I suppose I’ll just have to accept ‘Mickey 2’ and see how this plot strand plays out.  Perhaps I’m suffering Rory-resistance for the same reason that most of us disliked Adric – he seems a little too familiar for comfort.

As a life-long Hammer horror fan I loved the various nods to this genre – the vampire girls are wonderful, particularly in the ‘Jonathon Ross Show clip’ – but I do wonder if  revealing them to actually be ‘terileptils for the digital age’ really added anything.  It seems uncomfortably akin to the late and unlamented Van Helsing – only able to present Dracula as a ‘proper threat’ by transforming him into a CGI demon.  Taking a wider view, I don’t suppose debutantes with fangs would really cut it for younger viewers wanting their ‘monster fix’, and at least alien crustacean/fish appear at home in a Venetian canal?

Rosanna Calvierri is perfectly played by Helen McCrory, bringing the memorable RTD villainesses of the past to mind.  At the same time, she also manages to be a sympathetic character – one city in exchange for the continued survival of a race does seem perfectly understandable from a certain point of view.

There’s plenty to enjoy here, but nothing especially deep – at times it’s difficult to really care about the various predicaments the characters find themselves in.  Venice is going to get really wet?  Hardly a reality bomb.  The Doctor strolls through this one as if he’s untouchable – the climactic outcome of his first confrontation with the villains is the Time Lord being shown the door. Even Rory manages to fend off a skilled sword attack with a broom handle.

Perhaps it’s churlish to make criticisms like this when the story is so much fun, and so beautiful to look at (thanks to Trogir for being more like Venice than the real thing).  I suspect there may be angst ahead for our heroes so we should maybe try what most declined to do with Planet of the Dead – join in the spirit of fun and laughter while the option still exists for Amy and ‘her boys’.

AH

As such, Victory‘s problem may well have been time – precious little for the number of balls it had to juggle. Angels/Flesh has the stretching space to fit those in, and it has to be said, its baubles are that much shinier for their newness and unfamiliarity. We know so little about River Song, and trust Moffat less to reveal much more about her. The Weeping Angels are another lesser-known commodity. There’s enough in those two to adequately tell a story in its own right, but Moffat adds more intriguing conceits – a distress call across time, an army of priests hunting for an angel, Amy’s closest brush with death to date, and of course the accursed Crack which undermines the story in episode two and claims the plot for itself.

Visually it’s a stunner, with Eleventh Hour‘s Adam Smith returning and proving to be an impressive find for the new series; not since Midnight has dread looked so beautiful. The initial cave sequence with a dispirited and edgy band of soldiers and a mobile HQ within a large cavern recalled for me not so much Aliens as George Romero’s Day of the Dead, similarly doom-laden, also carrying with it the additional threat to its heroes that their nominal adversaries have evolved. Amy’s sleep-gritty eye will have had a legion of younger viewers panicking as they rubbed their waking faces the following day, for sure, but here the in-built frights are less those of childhood and more of the deep-rooted ones. Silent, dark forests, deep pits and caves. Indeed, the latter is positively Proppian as the Doctor goes, not exiting said cave until he is well clear of the forest in the spaceship inside the caverns. It’s not just a cave of course, it’s a grotto, filled (naturally) with grotesques, malformed, corrupted and dying Angels. It’s been observed that their on-screen movement and breaking of Blink‘s rules (particulary their being able to look at each other and not suffer the quantum death their shielding hands guard against) are a cheat and diminish their menace. I’d argue that we do at least recover more than we lost – I’m not mad on their being able to talk so soon after similar scenes in River Song’s earlier story, but it’s an irresistable insidght into their personas. These Angels are no longer scavengers but evil and cruel killers, so the stakes are sufficiently raised.

And so to the return of River Song. Alex Kingston’s performance here is pointedly different from her introductory two-header. It’s the same character, but this time she’s more arch, more self-confident, with a swagger (is that the right word?) to her walk and demeanour that teases the audience as much as it does the Doctor. Much of this is down to Alex Kingston’s updated femme fatale take on the character, which some have singled out for straying a little too close to camp, but if there was ever a time for Song to be singing it’s now. She’s a woman with the Doctor’s future in her hands, seemingly, but protected by the Doctor’s knowledge of hers. Nevertheless that self same self-assuredness and the deliberately provocative scene -sharing can only recall Moffat’s first episodes for new Who. River Song is Captain Jack Harkness, for the time being at least. And just look at how Amy is drawn to her as much as Rose was to Jack, each a potential rival for the Doctor.

Curious elements remain – is it a continuity error that the Doctor loses his jacket mid-forest and reappears in it to comfort a dying Amy, or evidence of temporal chicanery? That’s a fantastic performance by Smith here, by the way – who’d have thought he’d nail the Doctor so instantly in his his first story? Adding to River’s back story with more mystery was pretty much a given – the tease about her crime surely shouldn’t be that obvious, even if speculation on it in another story review has scared me off the NZDWFC Message Board for a month at least. And what of the church – an interesting detail, or is this an area the show’s new foreman will dare to venture into?

Very good stuff indeed.

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Since 2005 sharing the main spot with the Master for end of season spectaculars, it’s difficult to summon enthusiasm for the return of the Daleks – they’ve simply been used too often, and for progressively higher stakes. The new series, which reintroduced them with a single spartan and emotionally-driven episode, has since strip-mined them, pinching their modus operandi from the Cybermen, then them off against the silver stompers, combining Dalek DNA with that of humans making monstrous hybrids and finally when other avenues were exhausted and all other higher aspects of the traditional hierarchy were expended, bringing back Davros and having them try to destroy ‘reality’. So played out were they in 2009 that their sole appearance was a solitary individual in a flashback to a previous story. And now they’re back, claiming Victory no less. But victory over what?

Victory of the Daleks is the result of two things – one is the shopping list approach to storytelling evident in the RTD era and apparent now in the Moffat age (the Daleks, a historical figure, set-up for a future return), and the other the new series’ drive to reinvent. Three episodes in we’ve had a new Doctor and companion, new TARDIS and now it’s the turn of the most enduring baddie. Those elements in themselves amount to a lot for a routine or runaround one-parter – in the hands of series nostalgiameister Mark Gatiss the dilution of story amid beats and motifs becomes all the more obvious. Having said that, although I feel I recognise the author’s hand in Victory of the Daleks, there’s a big part of me that finds his influence on the story isn’t that apparent. Because beyond these set pieces and beats, I can’t bring myself to admit I can actually see a story.

Victory is frustrating to me, especially so for its obviousness. The disparate ‘big’ elements hang together so loosely: Churchill and the Blitz? Why? After an opener set pointedly in a Sleepy English Town followed by a story set in England (sorry, the UK) in Space with its own serious thing for bakelite retro design, who of all people would think a cosy sing-along-a-war-time version of the Battle of Britain and novelty Winston means pushing things forward? It makes me uncomfortable to follow the story’s implication that the Doctor’s arrival at that point in time was deliberately set up by the Daleks due to his ‘Britishness’ and affection for/speed dial to that country’s historical figures, because it speaks to much of the occasional laziness of the series and its lip service to its audience. The new series’ history has too easily adopted a de facto British history as its canon (Pompeii is moot), and it’s become boring. So too are the aforementioned story elements which, when they do hang together, do so in an extremely linear way: the Daleks set up a presence on Eng- sorry, Earth to lure the Doctor, they do so by gifting their technology to Churchill’s war effort by the genius and presumably highly sophisticated means of robo-boffin with a soul Bracewell (what, just leaving some easily understood plans lying around Whitehall was too far-fetched?), which allows the Doctor and friends to use Bracewell against his creators and hey presto – spitfires in space. Even the Daleks’ trick to force their enemy’s hand – leaving all the lights on in London, is dreadful. Is the story set in the days before blackout curtains?

Time for some positives. Those spitfires looked brilliant, as did the Dalek saucer interior – who’d have guessed a tobacco  factory could double so well for a home to innumerable devices of death? In fact, the design element I would say is one of the few concessions to the story, outside of the ever-reliable Bill Patterson. The new Daleks? I’m not so sure. The colours are certainly bold (does their reflecting a new hierarchy mean that a simple paint-job is all a Dalek needs to better itself?), but the side view is lamentable. The Universe’s deadliest creations have always had the hump, but it appears this time they’ve taken it literally. Performance-wise things are variable too – Patterson, as I said, is on form with a routine role (for Who!), and Matt Smith does his best with an overcrowded HQ in both settings. Ian MacNeice is capable of much better then his caricature role asks, although I must admit that against the earlier nominations – Robert Hardy and Albert Finney, he’s probably the best fit, and a straighter performance might not have worked amid everything else on show. Karen Gillan comes across here as cocksure and flippant – some way from Billie Piper’s Dalek introduction, but Amy’s ignorance of the Daleks is a promising element; another revision, or a significant character crack?

In the end it’s a Pyrrhic Victory – a lightweight idea stretched to story length, but lacking meat. This would be fine as a later-season overture like, say, Utopia, but for story three it does too little, and seemingly too early to matter.

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