Listen

Dear Gary—

“So, is it possible we’ve just saved that kid from another kid in a bedspread?”

Yes—and that’s what makes Listen especially creepy—we never know for sure. There is no monster under the bed or at the end of the universe or in a lonely barn. It is all in the mind; it is all conjecture; and that is the scariest prospect of all. Listen is a ghost story told around a campfire, and just at its deepest, darkest moment, when all ears are strained, when each imagination is stirred, the teller leaps out at you with a great shout—‘You’ve got it!’ And every listener jumps out of their skin with their own very personal reaction.

Internalized fears are the most fearsome; Listen is about the Doctor’s internalized fears. Oh, he faces monsters on a daily basis; he confronts aliens as a matter of course. However when all alone, when the silence overtakes him, his mind reels with the possibilities and imaginary evils take hold. That is when the Doctor feels the breath on the back of his neck; that is when his hair stands on end.

When all alone and scared in the TARDIS, talking to himself and his mind gone mad with the silence, the Doctor reaches out for companionship.

“Fear makes companions of us all.”

The Doctor reaches out for Clara.

“I need you . . . for a thing.”

At this point I would like to point out, Gary, that if the Doctor would get himself a permanent companion he wouldn’t have this problem. And if Clara would commit to the TARDIS she wouldn’t have the relationship problems she has and poor Danny Pink wouldn’t suffer the consequences. It’s maddening that New Who keeps circling back to the same old themes. However Listen makes up for the retread with its overall excellence.

As a whole, the story falls apart. However it is held together by the Doctor’s imagination despite Clara’s hijacking of the narrative.

The Doctor is out to exorcise his own demon, but he hasn’t one coherent idea of what that is. Is it the monster under his bed or the unseen listener or the hidden prankster who steals his coffee cup when he’s not looking? He has no clue what he is chasing. So how does he know that the beings he encounters with Clara at the navigational wheel are those he seeks, much less are of the same type? For all he knows he is confronting a child under a bedspread and banging pipes. For all he knows he is confronting an ET type creature and the unknown entity from Midnight. The only thing linking them is the Doctor’s own fears that he is projecting onto them.

Meanwhile Clara is projecting her own insecurities into the mix and the two wind up hop scotching their way through poor Danny Pink’s ancestral line. The result is a series of poignant vignettes that lay bare some of the innermost workings of the Doctor and Clara.

I’ll take each of these in turn and I’ll start with the overarching one, and that is Clara’s “I am trying to have a date” storyline. To begin, she’s not very good at it. “I mouth off when I’m nervous and I’ve got a mouth on me,” she tells Danny by way of excuse for the disaster of a date they are having. Both are nervous and awkward and highly sensitive. By all rights these two should not get together; they have a sitcom level attraction for one another and that’s it. They have no depth of feeling or understanding between them, and the super high level of alert each is on throws up seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

This is where Clara’s flighty TARDIS life both helps and hinders. She shouldn’t be getting into any serious relationship at all since she has evident commitment issues. The fact that she is trying only points to a life ahead of secrets and lies and superficial romance. Already the interruptions by her alternate reality are disrupting her date and causing a series of social blunders and miscues that she clumsily tries to cover.  However, access to a time machine means she can go back and try to make amends (even though she really should leave well enough alone; or if she really wanted, she should do it honestly and up front and not by backdoor stealth and magic).

Poor Danny Pink. I can’t think of him in any other way.

But it is amusingly done, this romcom pairing that is setting up the Poor Danny Pink season arc. For this one story I can accept it for the casual entertainment it offers and for the effective tie in with the Doctor’s ghost story of a chase.

This leads us to the kid under the covers, “I think I got distracted” tale of Poor Danny Pink’s childhood (back when he was known as Rupert Pink). Clara has a much more natural rapport with young Rupert; perhaps it is her teacher instincts. Her use of the plastic army men to allay Rupert’s fears is clever and ties in nicely with Poor Danny Pink’s soldiering. I’m not sure why Clara can’t bring herself to tell the Doctor who Rupert is, except that it shows she is lying to both of the men in her life as well as not committing to either.

The Doctor, meantime, is so caught up in his own train of thought that he doesn’t pick up on Clara’s unease, nor does he come any closer to uncovering whatever it is he is hell bent on uncovering. He has vague notions about shared dreams and monsters under the bed and perfectly camouflaged creatures who listen in on private conversations. None of these are clearly defined or linked, and none of them have much to do with young Rupert’s lonely existence.

Rupert has had a dream about a hand from under the bed grabbing his foot, or at least that is what Clara presumes and feeds to his impressionable mind, thus perhaps bending and shaping what he had actually experienced in that darkened room. Her crawling under the bed to calm his nerves is an inspired move. The bed suddenly sagging as though a weight has been added is spine tingling. But I have to point out that if this were the Doctor’s camouflage creature who wants to remain hidden, this is not the way to go about it. Neither is sitting up underneath the covers for all to see that something is physically present. The Doctor speaks to it as though it really is someone who wants to go unnoticed, but that is ludicrous given its obvious presence.

This is not exactly a scientific investigation that the Doctor is conducting to prove his hypothesis that he has scribbled out on the TARDIS blackboards. But it makes for some spooky moments for one and all to enjoy.

Next we have the encounter with Poor Danny Pink’s supposed descendent Orson Pink at the end of the universe. The dream and monster under the bed angle has been abandoned here. We have only the imagined evils lurking in the dark and banging on the door. For all they know this is a Toclafane trying to get in. Or banging pipes. It’s the random assault of one’s psyche as he or she sits alone and scared in the silence of the night. Another effective and eerie sequence, but not proving anything and only connected to previous events through the Pink line.

Finally we come to the tiny Doctor, alone and frightened in a barn loft with Clara under his bed. Clara—the source of it all. Clara—whispering in the Doctor’s ear. Clara—a source of comfort for both of her dalliances in their youths. A series of poignant vignettes only loosely linked yet tightly bound. And only Clara knows the truth.

The Doctor hasn’t come to any conclusions, but I doubt he really was after any given the haphazard way he went about things. Instead we have Clara lying to, inspiring, and making a mockery of both the men in her life.

Poor Danny Pink should run when he has the chance. Clara has given him the gift of courage in the form of Dan the plastic soldier man, but now she ridicules his past even while keeping major secrets from him.

As for the Doctor, he has asked for her help only for her to sidetrack him into areas unrelated to his quest without informing him of the detour and then teasing him with: “What if there never was anything? Nothing under the bed; nothing at the door. What if the big bad Time Lord doesn’t want to admit he’s just afraid of the dark?” Along the way she inspires the nightmare that triggers this episode as well as the comfort of fear.

“This is just a dream,” she tells him. “But very clever people can hear dreams. So please, just listen. I know you’re afraid, but being afraid is all right. Because didn’t anybody ever tell you? Fear is a superpower. Fear can make you faster and cleverer and stronger.”

Loosely linked yet tightly bound. It all comes full circle, not just within the episode, not just within New Who, but within the series as a whole.

Clara triggers the dream that triggers the episode; she provides the words the Doctor will use to reassure young Rupert; she instills the fortitude the Warrior Doctor will need in his fateful hour at that long ago barn. And she leaves these parting words: “Fear makes companions of us all.” Words echoing all the way back to the First Doctor and the first adventure. “Fear makes companions of all of us,” Doctor One tells Barbara.

Loosely linked yet tightly bound. It’s a wonderful little episode, Gary.

 I’ll leave you with this: “Fear can bring you home . . . .”

Robot of Sherwood

Dear Gary—

Robot of Sherwood is nothing but pure fun. That’s one of the great things about the Doctor Who format; it accommodates a wide variety of styles. (At least the Doctor Who format as unencumbered by season arcs; but since Robot of Sherwood for the most part flies free of the arc I’m not going to mention it.) It begins with the Doctor asking Clara where she wants to go; “wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space.”  No matter how outlandish or made up or old-fashioned; the Doctor is willing to comply. Gleefully she responds with, “Robin Hood.”  It is just such joyful adventures that keep companions on board.

And it is also what keeps me on board. Robot of Sherwood is pure delight. No Danny Pink; no Missy. Simply the Doctor and his companion on an adventure. Wonderful sets; great costumes (and really, the Doctor must keep a professional hair stylist on retainer for the use of his companions); excellent guest actors; witty script. Doctor Who at its best.

Landing in 1190 AD (ish) Sherwood Forest, I half expect to see the gang from The King’s Demons make an appearance. And then lo and behold, the Sheriff of Nottingham shows up looking for all the world like Anthony Ainley’s Master from that long ago serial. I can almost believe that the Doctor has crossed back into the Master’s time line and has run across him in disguise once again. It lends a deeper layer of appreciation in my viewing, not that Robot of Sherwood needs any aid.

Clara: “When did you stop believing in everything?”

Doctor: “When did you start believing in impossible heroes?”

The Doctor’s skepticism plays well against Clara’s unbridled enthusiasm. It is also a nice echo back to Into the Dalek in which the Doctor dared to hope he had found a good Dalek only to be perversely pleased when his world view was confirmed and the incontrovertibility of Daleks’ evilness affirmed. Now, confronted with the laughing countenance of an impossible hero, the Doctor sonics an apple as he searches for any scrap of evidence that the legend before him is not real.

I love how the story plays with the concepts of legend and reality as both of our Impossible Heroes (wish that word impossible wasn’t so used and abused by New Who) bicker their way through the larger than life historical.  It is a wonderful bit of hilarity as the Doctor examines this too perfect world while Robin and his Merry Men banter. (“That was bantering. I am totally against bantering.”) From one preposterous sandal sniffing test to another, the Doctor is determined to find the lie behind these men even while Clara elicits the grim truth of Sherwood’s “dark days.”

Feeding us images of the fable that is Robin Hood (complete with a fabulous shot of Patrick Troughton in the classic role) and paying homage to the swashbuckling tale with scenes such as the archery contest and Robin sliding down the banner with his knife, the episode lovingly encapsulates the myth while at the same time carving out a sincere characterization of the man. In doing so it highlights the Doctor’s similar dichotomy. Perhaps it is because Robin’s story hits so close to home that the Doctor is so driven to disprove the facts before him.

And the more the Doctor disbelieves, the more ornery and cantankerous he becomes, the more I love him. Last entry I compared him to Doctor Four; now I can only say that he holds up well to Doctor Number One. Characteristics of my top two Doctors rolled into one. Peter Capaldi is rapidly rising in my esteem.

Clara, too, is observing and assessing the Doctor. Building on her more realistic approach to their relationship that she has been forging since Deep Breath, Clara sees her Impossible Hero with all his flaws. No more star struck worship. Robot of Sherwood not only allows the Doctor to be fallible, it revels in his mistakes.

Doctor:  “Well, there is a bright side.”

Robin: “Which is?”

Doctor: “Clara didn’t see that.”

What she does see is enough. These two legendary, larger than life, heroic figures bickering and competing and in all ways acting petty and childish in a wonderfully comedic scene while their lives hang in the balance. Clara clearly is the grown-up in this scenario and the fact that the guard pegs her as the leader is amusing and fitting. After all, this is a story of Clara’s making. Sherwood was her choice. The Doctor and Robin Hood are her heroes; her impossible heroes. That they do not live up to their heroic legends does not lead to deep, dark angst and tragedy to which New Who has so often fallen victim. No; rather it leads to an amusing lark in which Clara becomes a hero in the Doctor’s and the Prince of Thieves’ name.

Doctor: “I’m not a hero.”

Robin: “Well, neither am I. But if we both keep pretending to be . . . Ha, ha! . . . Perhaps others will be heroes in our name.”

The golden arrow of an end is a bit of a stretch, but it is apt that it comes about as a result of cooperation between our three heroes and not one Superhero Moment. And I am especially glad it doesn’t come about as a result of the magic sonic. (One of the many highlights for me is this observation from Clara: “Can you explain your plan without using the word sonic screwdriver? Because you might have forgotten, the Sheriff of Nottingham has taken your sonic screwdriver; just saying. It’s always the screwdriver.”)

I just want to say one quick word about Marian. It is obvious from the start that this woman is Maid Marian, but it plays out subtly and without a lot of fanfare. She is quietly heroic in her own right, with a little inspiration from the Doctor. Her revelation at the end as the TARDIS dematerializes is a lovely way to conclude.

My final thought, however, comes courtesy of Robin Hood: “Fly among the stars,” he tells the Doctor, “fighting the good fight.” My initial reaction is personal and one you would appreciate, Gary. When I hear that line I immediately think of driving Up North, and as we pass through Bonduel I always remark that they should adopt the slogan ‘Fight the good fight’ for their fair village. Beyond that, however, as Robin takes his farewell of the Doctor I am reminded of the first Doctor going forward in his beliefs and seeking his own truth amongst the stars.

I hope this finds you some day, Gary, fighting the good fight as you seek truth amongst the stars . . .

Into the Dalek

Dear Gary—

“Am I a good man?”

Into the Dalek just as easily could have been called Into the Doctor as it explores the question along with this twelfth generation. The very fact that he is asking the question is admirable and worthy of a positive response.

Mind you, I am getting fed up with New Who’s fascination with the Doctor’s psyche and the constant barrage of angst-ridden stories. With Doctors Ten and Eleven these journeys down deep dark alleys veered towards wallowing self-indulgence. However Peter Capaldi’s straightforward question to his companion lends honesty to this tired New Who theme. Quite simply, Peter Capaldi breaths fresh life into the show.

Journey: “I thought you were saving him.”

Doctor: “He was dead already. I was saving us.”

And again—

Journey: “A man has just died. You will not talk like that.”

Doctor: “A lot of people have died. Everything in here is dead.”

The Doctor very logically goes on to explain why that is a good thing for their own survival.

It is exchanges like this that Clara watches and processes to go into her calculation of whether or not the Doctor is a good man. Likewise it is these same exchanges that the audience is taking note of. It is an alien morality. The Doctor’s question, “Am I a good man,” has to be viewed in this light. So often Doctors Ten and Eleven adopted the self-righteous, politically correct morality of Twenty-First Century Earth; but no matter how much time the Doctor has spent here, he is after all an alien being who is unconstrained by time or space; and his moral code must reflect this.

In this story Peter Capaldi holds up well against the gold standard of Tom Baker’s Doctor, in particular Tom Baker’s Doctor of Pyramids of Mars. At least for now the Twelfth Doctor is getting back to his alien roots.

And he is getting back to a far more interesting dynamic with his companion.

Clara: “I’m his carer.”

Doctor: “Yeah, my carer. She cares so I don’t have to.”

An alien and a human distinct from one another; not a couple of highs school sweethearts holding hands as they journey through the stars.

“He’ll get us out of here,” Clara tells Journey and she continues, “The difficult part is not killing him before he can.”  Or when Gretchen asks, “Is he mad, or is he right?” Clara replies, “Hand on my heart; most days he’s both.” This is the complete faith a Doctor Who companion must have even while acknowledging his sometimes difficult nature; accepting the Doctor flaws and all and not worshipping him as a superhero.

The setting for our story is of all places the interior workings of a Dalek, and again it is a refreshing take on an age-old foe of the show. The Doctor, Clara, Journey Blue, Gretchen, and Ross have been shrunk and injected into what they believe is a ‘good’ Dalek. (“Fantastic idea for a movie; terrible idea for a proctologist.”) It is a rather dubious claim; the only basis for the injured Dalek’s goodness is the fact that he wishes the destruction of his fellow Daleks, but it is enough to intrigue the Doctor and makes for a compelling episode.

The Doctor’s examination of the Dalek, both physical and psychological, is fascinating. The Dalek antibodies provide sufficient tension as the Doctor quizzes ‘Rusty’ on his transformation. The notion that a Dalek can witness a star being born and see beauty is enough to give the Doctor hope; hope for Daleks and hope for himself. However, when he repairs the damage to Rusty (I’m not very clear on why they were sent in to heal the Dalek, even if good, or how healing the ‘good’ Dalek’s body would help them in understanding the psychology of this ‘good’ Dalek and using it in their fight against the legions of ‘bad’ Daleks; but I’m not going to question too deeply) and Rusty reverts to his extermination roots, the Doctor reverts to his own world view of good and evil and his and the Daleks’ place in it.

This is where ‘carer’ Clara comes in, and her slap of the Doctor ranks up there in the top three of Doctor Who slaps, along with Donna’s in The Runaway Bride and Leela’s in Horror of Fang Rock. It is also where Clara’s newfound profession of teaching comes in handy.

“Is that really what we’ve learned today?” The best teacher is one who questions; who provokes thought; who leads a pupil to his or her own conclusions. Clara steers the Doctor back onto the path of hope. In turn, the Doctor sends Clara off on a leap of faith journey with a “do a clever thing” mission to reawaken Rusty’s suppressed memories of beauty.

The fact that the Doctor was right, that Rusty is not really good but has instead merely redirected his hatred from others to his own race, is not surprising but it is disheartening. Especially for the Doctor. And especially for the Doctor as Rusty turns the tables on him and states: “I am not a good Dalek. You are a good Dalek.” But the Doctor can take heart in this—in the fact that he tried; in the fact that he admitted the possibility of a ‘good’ Dalek. And in the fact that he asked the question of Clara (“Am I a good man?”). As long as he continues to travel in that hope he established so long ago there is hope for the Doctor.

It is a great second outing for Doctor Twelve that lets us get better acquainted with this new incarnation, takes time to develop the Doctor/companion relationship, and still allows for a thrilling adventure. If only the Doctor would accept Journey Blue into TARDIS life, despite the awkward name. Journey would make for an excellent companion, and the Doctor’s dismissal of her simply because she is a soldier harkens back to Ten’s and Eleven’s hypocrisy regarding guns and the military. It is not worthy of this new and questioning Doctor. (I go back to my gold standard Number Four in Pyramids: “I never carry firearms.” A simple and direct statement with no judgment cast upon others for doing so.)

But this is where the dreary season arc comes into play. Journey Blue is a soldier, as was Danny Pink. Journey Blue/Danny Pink. Clara takes note of the similarity (just in case the audience doesn’t catch it). And she further aids the viewer with a decided “Not me” regarding having rules against soldiers.

Now Clara’s flirtations with Danny are cute and fun. However . . .

Firstly: We have finally put the companion crush trope behind us with the advent of Peter Capaldi. Must we really dive headlong into a romance for Clara so soon? If it weren’t for the endless cycles of raging hormones we have endured I wouldn’t be as suspicious, but now I’m beginning to think that the writers on the show have the same difficulty that so many male authors have when creating female characters—and that is they simply don’t have a clue how to create a female character. The only crutch they can fall back on is to define their women vis-à-vis their relationships with male characters.

Next: “Ah, you shoot people then cry about it afterwards?” This is Clara’s idea of being funny? Of flirting? By being sanctimonious and insulting? She’s been hanging around the Doctor too long.

Next: I’m sick of these yo-yoing companions. Journey Blue would have been a committed companion. Clara, on the other hand, remains a “see you next Wednesday” companion and hardly in a position to make a commitment to anybody. She won’t commit to traveling with the Doctor but she won’t commit to end her travels with him either; so where does that leave room for a personal life on Earth? If she starts a relationship with Danny she will inevitably end up lying to him and shortchanging him.

Last but far from least: Danny Pink is clearly being set up as the sacrificial lamb to the season’s arc. That is his one and only purpose, so don’t get too attached. The tear rolling down his cheek when asked, “Have you ever killed anyone who wasn’t a soldier,” is screaming set-up. This is extremely annoying, especially since I like Danny and think he deserves better.

It is obvious and clumsy and there Doctor Who goes showing its script again.

One last word about glaringly obvious and clumsy—dead Gretchen ending up in Missy’s ‘paradise.’

Putting those aside, however, I am enjoying this new generation of Doctor, Gary. I’ll commit to my TARDIS travels even if Clara won’t.

Deep Breath

Dear Gary—

“Look at the eyebrows. These are attack eyebrows.”

Welcome Doctor Twelve.

 “They’re cross. They’re crosser than the rest of my face. They’re independently cross. They probably want to cede from the rest of my face and set up their own independent state of eyebrows.”

Peter Capaldi is the Doctor.

Matt Smith won me over immediately with his charm. With his independently cross attack eyebrows Peter Capaldi manages to trump Matt Smith. At times the Eleventh Doctor’s charm got in the way. He always had to be likeable even when doing some despicable things. Doctor Twelve has no such pretenses. His is a practical, no nonsense approach that sets him apart. (“There’s no point in us both being cold.”) There is no doubt that Peter Capaldi is the Doctor, and more than that, he is his own Doctor.

Clara takes a bit more convincing, however.

“How do we fix him?”

It is a perfectly natural first reaction. Vastra’s response is condescending and unwarranted.

The tone of this inaugural episode Deep Breath is captured perfectly in those first few moments with the giant dinosaur vomiting up a blue box in Victorian London; with Strax’s “Hello; exit the box,” greeting; with the Doctor’s struggle to put names to faces; with a disheveled “the-not-me-one; the asking questions one.”  Vastra, Jenny, and Strax fit right in.

However, this detecting trio is beginning to wear a bit thin. In particular I am starting to dislike Madame Vastra and her superior air. Her dismissal of the puny ‘apes’ around her and of Inspector Gregson are one thing, but her treatment of Strax and Jenny is insufferable. Jenny’s declaration of love for Vastra is a moving speech, but it would be more powerful if their relationship wasn’t played strictly for laughs. I would think Jenny would have more self respect and that she would react to Vastra’s chauvinism with more than a sitcom shrug of the shoulders and roll of the eyes. It is a disappointing dynamic that is neither subtle nor enlightened.  Even my favorite, Strax, is becoming too much of a good thing.

I can overlook this disturbing aspect, though, and skim along the amusing surface of the tale. Vastra, Jenny, and Strax provide a familiar structure allowing for Clara to work through her feelings for this new and alien face of a man she thought she knew.

You well know, Gary, that I never quite understood the relationship between Clara and the Eleventh Doctor or why Clara stuck around. Doctor Who didn’t really know what to make of it, either, and in the end had to fall back on the trite libido crutch. With the advent of Doctor Twelve that illusion is smashed and Clara has to figure out her new role. Starting from scratch, the show has a chance to rebuild this bond into something believable. For this one episode, at least, it gets it right.

It begins by separating the two, and this is where the so-called Paternoster Gang comes in handy. Vastra’s treatment of Clara is heavy-handed, but it is a quick and easy, not to mention entertaining, way to show Clara processing the Doctor’s regeneration. I’m not sure that having Marcus Aurelius as your only pin-up at 15 and bragging you can flirt with a mountain range are worthy of a standing ovation, but I love that she tells off Vastra; and in the end the content of her speech isn’t really that important; it is the context and delivery that matters as a shortcut way to reveal Clara’s mettle.

The Doctor on his own is equally enlightening and entertaining. His compassion for the dinosaur, his aversion to furious mirrors, his relish in being Scottish, and his brusque interactions with the tramp encapsulate this Doctor perfectly.

After their separate journeys of self-discovery, the Doctor and Clara are ready to meet once again, and it is appropriate that they do not exactly hit it off. Their “egomaniac, needy, game-player sort of person” exchange is hilarious and to the point. I can only hope that this slightly prickly banter keeps up; I much prefer it to the gushing and fawning that so often characterizes the Doctor’s companions of late. The mutual respect and trust that is essential for the dynamic has to be earned, and that is exactly what the Doctor and Clara proceed to do as they navigate the hell’s kitchen scenario they have walked into.

It starts with their vaguely contentious and highly amusing cooperation as they implement their sonic screwdriver escape. It becomes full blown, however, when the Doctor seemingly abandons Clara to her fate. In actuality he is placing complete faith in Clara and she lives up to that confidence. Using the Doctor’s hints about holding her breath she makes her way through the murderous cyborgs until she comes face to half face with the robot leader, at which point she cleverly draws upon her teaching skills to outwit the control ‘bot. The payoff is as she stands terrified but defiant before the stalemated Half-Face and takes that final leap of faith:

“I know where he will be; where he will always be. If the Doctor is still the Doctor, he will have my back.”

Right on cue the Doctor arrives, and again it is brilliantly played—the trust, the respect, and the prickly banter.

Doctor: “See, Clara? That’s how you disguise yourself as a droid.”

Clara: “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a lot of time. I’d been suddenly abandoned.”

Doctor: “Yeah, sorry. Well no, actually, I’m not. You’re brilliant on adrenaline. And you were out of your depth, sir. Never try and control a control freak.”

Clara: “I am not a control freak.”

Doctor: “Yes, ma’am.”

This is the Doctor/companion dynamic that has always worked best.

Now the story falls apart a little, but that’s OK because the importance of the episode is to establish these characters.  The Doctor could of course end everything with one flick of his magic sonic, but instead we have the reappearance of the dynamic trio for a bit of action and suspense and we have the stand-off between the Doctor and Half-Face, the whole purpose of which is to set up the obligatory season arc that I really could do without. It mars an otherwise decent adventure and does not ring true.

“Do you have it in you to murder me?” It is a false dilemma. Because Half-Face isn’t anywhere close to being human. He is a robot, a droid, a machine. An artificial intelligence. He isn’t any more human than the woman suit Buffalo Bill fashions in Silence of the Lambs. He isn’t any more human than the Madame de Pompadour is in The Girl in the Fireplace. Just because he has an outer covering of human flesh, some freshly harvested human eyes, and some mismatched human hands, doesn’t mean he has grown a human soul. I can believe this less than I can believe that in 1935’s Mad Love the murderous Rollo’s hands that have been grafted onto Stephan Orlac’s arms have taken on an independently destructive will of their own and turned Orlac into an expert knife thrower.  (Sorry, Gary. This is the time of year when Frankie and I settle back to enjoy all of those good old black and whites and I couldn’t resist referencing this classic of B filmdom.) So no, if the Doctor pushes Half-Face out of the balloon, or if he pours a glass of wine on his head as Doctor Ten would do, it would not be murder. Frankenstein’s monster is still a monster. Half-Face is still a droid.

This makes the whole Missy paradise nonsense even more nonsensical and clumsy. It is maddening enough that we have to be introduced to this villain of the season. It could have been effected in a much more shrewd and crafty way.

Setting the Missy unpleasantness aside, Deep Breath is a breath of fresh air, mainly on the strength of Peter Capaldi and on the much more interesting bond forming between the Doctor and Clara. The “I’m not your boyfriend” line is a good start and I hope Doctor Who takes this statement to heart. The phone call from Doctor Eleven is a good touch as well, bringing closure to that era and culminating in Clara’s full acceptance of the Doctor’s new persona as she flings her arms about his neck.

Doctor: “I . . . I don’t think that I’m a hugging person now.”

Clara: “I’m not sure you get a vote.”

Gone are the false, romantic, high school notions. This is a clean start to a promising pairing.

“I think there should be more round things on the walls . . .”

Not everything is perfect, Gary, but things change and move forward. I’m moving forward with more hope than I expected.

Matt Smith

Dear Gary—

I don’t believe you ever saw Matt Smith as the Doctor, or perhaps you caught only his first outing or two. You missed a lot, some of it good but a great deal of it bad.

The good—the best—centers on Matt Smith. He is funny, poignant, dark, witty, childlike, intelligent, and mysterious in turn; sometimes all at once. He is always interesting, but more importantly he remains likeable even while the character is rapidly becoming unpleasant.

No longer can the Doctor call himself a pacifist. Too often during this Eleventh Doctor’s run he has casually destroyed thousands (blowing an entire Cyber fleet out of the sky simply to get an answer to a question in A Good Man Goes to War) and just as casually he has murdered  individuals (Solomon in Dinosaurs on a Spaceship).  He doesn't have an aversion to gun-toting companions any more and he has no qualms about embracing mass murderers if he happens to take a shine to them (the Bloody Queen Elizabeth the Tenth as the most egregious example). The Doctor cannot claim the moral high ground these days; yet time after time he does just that, and he takes it to the heights of hypocrisy. Through it all, however, Matt Smith shines; he almost makes one forget the offhand cruelty.

Just as violence comes casually to him, so too, apparently, does sex. The Doctor’s Time Lord version of a one night stand with Rose and his intense connection with Madame de Pompadour seem innocent compared with the string of conquests this Eleventh incarnation has left in his wake. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Doctor Who universe is populated by an entire generation of half Time Lords. (I think I would watch a spin-off of Tasha Lem as a single mother raising her Doctor baby while leading the Papal Mainframe and trying to suppress her Dalek puppet self.) This is an area where Matt Smith doesn’t shine so much; he’s awkward and uncomfortable in the role of Lothario; it doesn’t suit him.

A similar pattern follows the companions of this Eleventh Doctor. Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill, and Jenna-Louise Coleman (and Alex Kingston) do wonders with their roles. Amy and Rory in particular settle in as proper, well-rounded companions. However, they start this trend of what I have come to call yo-yo companions. That is, companions who bounce back and forth between their every day Earth lives and their out-of –this-world TARDIS lives. This aspect is acknowledged and developed with the Ponds, but never to my complete satisfaction. I just can’t accept that this duo would roll with all of the heart-rending punches they are handed and not rebel against their surreal existence if they are truly committed to life and all it offers. The half-hearted attempts they make at normalcy are never believable; and when they are robbed of their infant daughter and any chance at a happy family life with barely a whimper I have to throw up my hands in defeat and recognize that these are not people but actors playing a part as outlined in a script. As actors they are wonderful and enjoyable to watch; however any pretense that the fictional personalities of Amy and Rory are flesh and blood people trying to make a life for themselves, let alone parents, is maddening. Their lives center on the Doctor and what the written page offers, nothing else. I cannot suspend my disbelief far enough to accept them as anything more.

At least Karen and Arthur are given some complexity to keep the audience from second-guessing too much. Jenna-Louise is not so lucky. She has no substantial or consistent structure around which she can base her character. Is she Oswin or is she Clara or is she Soufflé Girl? Is she a governess, a barmaid, a nanny, or a schoolteacher? Is she brave or is she timid? Is she brilliant or is she artificially intelligent? She blew into this world on a leaf—and it shows. She is buffeted by every Doctor Who wind and never truly alights. Yet Jenna-Louise Coleman is captivating.

That is the story of this Eleventh Doctor. Matt, Karen, Arthur, Jenna (and Alex Kingston). Not the Doctor, Amy, Rory, Clara/Oswin/ Soufflé Girl (and River). It is the good fortune of casting. It is the misfortune of a show that too often leaves its script showing. It is the curse of a production team that doesn’t trust its own format and doesn’t have confidence in its actors to simply inhabit their roles. Rather it force feeds artificial arcs that burden the players and that overshadow the adventures. It started in a small way with Doctors Nine and Ten, but it has come on with a vengeance with Doctor Eleven.

I spent a good deal of my time on my slow path through this stretch being angry thanks in large part to the onerous arcs. First there is the Crack of a season; that one is bad enough. The following one, however, is far worse. I’ll never forget those first few minutes of The Impossible Astronaut that almost lost me as a Doctor Who viewer forever. The Probable Girl arc is more irritating than maddening, but it is the most damaging to character development, Clara in particular. And then there is the inane Doctor Who? arc that spans across several seasons. This question mark arc does manage to salvage itself with the wonderful punch line of The Name of the Doctor; and all of the arcs come together beautifully in Matt Smith’s curtain call The Time of the Doctor. Overall, though, the arcs saddle the series with improbable scenarios and impossibly intricate threads that distract from the adventures.

However, my biggest wrath is reserved for what I consider the worst Doctor Who episode ever: The Beast Below. I said it all in my entry on that particular story and I don’t care to revisit it.

There are some wonderful highlights as well. Matt Smith’s introduction in The Eleventh Hour with young Amelia Pond is delightful. Vincent and the Doctor and The Lodger are two enjoyable diversions. The Doctor’s Wife is one of the best of New Who. The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe is a Christmas treat. Hide is a solid entry. Rounding it all out are two of my favorites: the fiftieth anniversary The Day of the Doctor and my guilty pleasure The Time of the Doctor.

Matt Smith’s era sees the dramatic and viable return of some Classic Who monsters; namely the Silurians and the Zygons. Too bad the Great Intelligence isn’t handled more intelligently, though. It also has more than its fair share of the obligatory Daleks and Cybermen; develops further on the New Who creation The Weeping Angels (much to my disappointment); and introduces a new alien in the dreadful (in my opinion) Silents.

The trio of recurring characters—Madame Vastra, Jenny Flint, and Strax—could have a spinoff of their own. They are fully realized personalities with little background provided. They are launched in A Good Man Goes to War as though they have always been part of the show; and they feel as though they have always been a part of the show. Ever entertaining, this Victorian era detective gang is a most welcome addition, even if at times they feel superfluous and merely added to provide comic relief.

In sum, the Matt Smith years are much like the little girl with the curl right in the middle of her forehead. When it is good it is very, very good, but when it is bad it is horrid. I am very much afraid, Gary, that the horrid too often overshadows. Lacking in consistency and relying too heavily on calculation, coincidence, and contrivance, the show is rapidly losing me.

Standing above it all, however, is Matt Smith. He is very, very good and never horrid. Given better material he would float towards the top of my rankings. As it is he is laden down; if I were to seriously reconsider my rankings he would be in danger of dropping a notch or two through no fault of his own.

But Matt Smith leaves on a high note, Gary, and I’ll grab on and follow it to the next chapter of my slow path.

The Time of the Doctor

Dear Gary—

I have to confess, I consider The Time of the Doctor as a guilty pleasure. The first time I saw this episode I didn’t like it, to put it mildly. I scoffed and rolled my eyes and was more than a little confused. (Truth be told—and this must be the Christmas truth field in play—I first saw this out of order; I had probably only seen one, maybe two, Clara stories before it.) Each time I have seen it since I have appreciated it more. Now I almost think it is one of my favorites of Matt Smith’s tenure.

I’ll begin with Clara. The first time through I had no background of the Clara/Doctor relationship; she was a generic companion to me. As I have pointed out through this slow journey of mine, I still don’t have a deep understanding of Clara’s character, but I have warmed up to her and can see the friendship between her and the Doctor. This family of hers, however, is out of the blue. We have never seen them before; it is a paper thin relationship that has been created out of air for the convenience of our story. Clara’s treatment of them bears this out. They are unimportant to her and to us. But it makes for a hilarious skit. The “I need a boyfriend” bit is straight out of sitcom land; Clara is looking more like That Girl every day.

The Time of the Doctor is a string of such skits; it is a clip show; a highlights reel; a reunion episode; a greatest hits album. It is a Saturday Night Live version of Doctor Who. And it is one of the most enjoyable events to watch in this new era.

All of the old favorites are collected here: the Crack, the oldest question, the Silence, Trenzalore, Gallifrey Lost, the Time War, the exploding TARDIS. All of the unresolved questions; all of the tedious arcs. All coming cleverly together into a satisfying whole. I won’t say that it makes the long, drawn out, and dreary season-long storylines worthwhile, but I will say that for once they have actual relevance for me. Added to the mix are an assortment of Doctor Who foes led by the obligatory Daleks and Cybermen with an occasional Weeping Angel thrown in.

I’ll even go so far as to say that I don’t mind the dreadful Silents in this. They’re still ridiculous, but I have to laugh at them rather than rage against them. “Confessional Priests,” the Doctor explains them away to Clara, and he goes on to say that they are, “genetically engineered so you forget everything you told them.”  Useless in other words. You confess and immediately forget; so you haven’t unburdened yourself at all; you are as guilt-ridden as ever. What you have done is spilled all of your deepest darkest secrets to these creepy monsters and don’t even know you have done so. So you turn around and confess again. Only to forget yet again. And the cycle continues ad nauseam. In the meantime the Silents could sell the information they glean to the highest bidder. Blackmail anyone? I wonder if the Bloody Queen Liz 10 had these guys created; she’s big on the forgetting-you-did-something-dreadfully-important front.

The story is a muddle calling for all sorts of suspension of disbelief and leaps of faith. But even though I can’t commit to it, I can enjoy it for the lighthearted romp of an SNL ride that it is.

Daleks, Cybermen, Slitheen, Silurians, Judoon, Sontarans, etc are all convened in one spot; one time and space. All of this fire power and they are being held at bay by the shield put in place by the Papal Mainframe. So where was this shield during the Time War? But whatever; the Doctor slips through with the aid of Tasha Lem, the Mother Superious, and single handedly fends off all attacks for hundreds of years from an assortment of Daleks, Cybermen, Weeping Angels etc. As the centuries drag by he gets relief from the Clerics, and together they turn Trenzalore into a war zone in defense of Christmas.

Now all of these various and sundry Doctor Who foes have shown up at this far flung spot at this ambiguous time in response to a mysterious message that has been broadcasting through all of time and space since the beginning of the universe. None of them can explain what the message is or why they have responded other than an all-pervading sense of terror. Frightened Daleks and Cybermen et al. Scared of the unknown. Monsters under the bed. Shadows in the night. And they have all arrived at this one spot because that is the source of the message. But why this time? What time is it, by the way? Must be in the distant future; must at least be after the 52^nd Century when all of the Demon’s Run events went down, although it is Christmas 2013 or there about Earth time when the Doctor first gets the message. Who knows when the Daleks etc first heard the cry. If it has been echoing out through all of time and space, I can only wonder why the Doctor never heeded its call before. Why wasn’t this ubiquitous question heard loud and clear reverberating throughout that Crack of a season?

And here’s something—apparently The Silence is responsible for Everything. They exploded the TARDIS that led to the Crack; that led to the Pandorica; that led to Demon’s Run; that led to Lake Silencio; that led to the collapsing universe; that led to the inane Question; that led to just about every bad thing that has happened in the Doctor Who universe for the past few seasons, up to and including our present predicament. So here’s an idea: Unscheduled Faith Change—from this point on why not dedicate the church to the destruction of the Kovarian Chapter in the most convoluted way possible? Perhaps this new chapter could create its own fixed point at the Sea of Tranquility. And just to distinguish their team from Eye Patch Lady’s they can send in their psycho killer dressed in a Soviet space suit.

But alas, none of this is to be. Instead the church dedicates itself to aiding the Doctor in defending Trenzalore (even though the members have been turned into Dalek puppets, but oh well, let’s forget about that).

So now I begin to wonder why it wouldn’t be a good thing to let the Time Lords through to aid in the cause. The Daleks are concentrated in one spot; let the Time Lords through; sneak attack; dead Daleks.

This is where the vagaries of the Time War enter in. The Time Lords are let through and the Time War continues throughout time and space? Is that the fear? Except—without the Time Lords the Daleks are free to roam about all of time and space leaving devastation in their wake. Presumably this is what prompted the Time Lords to action to begin with.  But then the Time Lords became as corrupt and evil as the Daleks? Or maybe just the High Council? Are there Time Lords that are good but caught up in the battle? What of all those children that were of such concern in The Day of the Doctor? The General and Androgar in the War Room on Gallifrey seem to be decent guys; just soldiers doing their darnedest to defeat the Ultimate Evil. And the Doctor seems exuberant at the thought that the Time Lords are saved, even if in some frozen moment of a pocket universe. So what exactly is the fear if the Time Lords are freed?  And again we are left with the vagaries of the Time War.

And then there is this truth field to deal with. The Doctor and Clara discover the realities of this phenomena when they are compelled to answer awkward questions they would rather not. But the Ultimate Question, the Question that has been seeping through The Crack since the dawn of time, the Question that everyone is so dedicated to keeping from being answered, the Question that haunts and that frightens and that has shaped intergalactic history—That Question can be ignored by the Doctor for hundreds of years as he sits and whittles and zaps a Weeping Angel or two despite the best efforts of the truth field.

As for the Question: Doctor Who? The Time Lords are waiting patiently in their frozen bubble; waiting for the Doctor to provide his name so that they know it is safe to come out and play. They have these Cracks that they can traverse at will, we are to believe, but they won’t until they get the Word from the Doctor. So the Doctor figures this out and sits with his ear to the Crack for hundreds of years and says nothing to it. He knows his long lost and beloved race is there hanging on his every word; yet he says nothing to them. He formulates no plan; he brokers no peace. He sits; he waits; he dispatches a wooden Cyberman; he makes friendly with the locals; he does battle with the Daleks. But he remains Silent.

Along comes Clara to have a chat with the Crack. “It’s time someone told you you’ve been getting it wrong.” Thank you, Clara. “His name . . . his name is the Doctor.” Well, duh. What more do you need? What more do the Time Lords need? After all of these hundreds of years they don’t know that it is the Doctor on the other end of their Crack line of communication? And they never tried to converse and ask some relevant questions? Ditto the Doctor?

Speaking of communication—why doesn’t the Doctor understand the initial message if it is in Gallifreyan? And if it is in some weird Gallifreyan code that the Doctor can’t recognize, why did the Time Lords use this ancient and weird and untranslatable language for their most important communiqué? Why even ask the question if they know no one, including the intended recipient, would be able to comprehend it? And if a Cyber head can translate it, why can’t the Cybermen?

And then after all of these hundreds of years the Time Lords decide that this is indeed the Doctor, because Clara says so, and rather than bursting free of their bubble they send through a new regeneration cycle for the Doctor and then close up the Crack, seemingly for good. Now wait a minute—can the Time Lords control these Cracks? It appears as though they open one up in the sky and close it again. Have they been in charge of them all along? All through that Crack of a season? Or is it just for the convenience of this story? Or did the Crack fortuitously open of its own accord right when the Doctor and the Time Lords needed it most?

And please tell me how the Doctor getting a whole new regeneration cycle solves the standoff at Trenzalore? The Daleks et al decide after hundreds of years that they don’t want to go on with this endless battle through another thirteen generations of the Doctor so they give up and go home? Or is it because the Time Lords have decided after hundreds of years to stop transmitting their message? In which case, why didn’t the Doctor simply tell them on Day 1: ‘Sorry guys, it’s not safe out there and you’re drawing attention to yourselves. Why not be quiet for a while until things settle down and I’ll sneak back in the TARDIS in a millennia or two and whisper the all clear?’

OK, I know his regen energy blows the Daleks out of the Christmas sky (sheesh, talk about genocide), but really, we all know there are plenty of Daleks to go around. Where one burns twenty come to take its place.

Seems to me that the bad guys won here. The Daleks and company are free to go about their merry way sowing death and destruction across the universe. At least there must have been hundreds of years of universal peace while all of these deadly foes concentrated their forces at Trenzalore.

But you know, Gary, even though the story falls apart on the whole, the individual bits shine and I find I don’t really mind the inanity so much. Take the Papal Mainframe for instance. As an entity it is ridiculous. It is sprung at us with no historical context and we are left scratching our heads as to where this almighty church has been hiding all of these years. Why, I wonder, didn’t it intervene during the Pandorica buildup of forces (as just one example)? I’ve already expressed my contempt of the Silents as Confessional Priests. As for Tasha Lem, I’m getting rather annoyed with this casual Lothario side of the Doctor. Having said all that, however, the Mainframe is impressive in its grand scale and fits into the story, the Silents provide some comic relief, and Orla Brady as Tasha is fascinating.

The town of Christmas is quaint; the wooden Cyberman is cool; the aging Doctor is touching; Handles is comical; Barnable is adorable; Gran is both funny and poignant (and great to re-visit Etta from Vengeance on Varos); cooking turkey in the TARDIS is terrific; naked Doctor is madcap; the not-so-invisible Sontaran comedy duo is hilarious (until they’re blown up); the return of Amelia and Amy is moving (although Amy is creepy and Amelia is fake—I guess they took a page from Ed Wood’s ‘Bela/Not Bela’ book).

This is one Doctor Who in which the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

Culminating in the regeneration. Peter Capaldi.

I look forward, Gary; traveling as the Doctor would, ever in hope . . .

The Day of the Doctor

Dear Gary—

“Am I having a midlife crisis?”

Happy 50^th Doctor Who. The Day of the Doctor is the perfect way to celebrate.

I know The Day of the Doctor is good when Billie Piper shows up and she’s not playing Rose. This deserves three well earned rounds of applause. The first round is for the show runners who brought Billie Piper back for this fiftieth anniversary gala. Regardless of how I feel about Rose, Billie Piper played a major part in the early success of the new series and she deserves to be represented in this milestone episode. The second round is for Steven Moffat for opting to cast Billie not as Rose but as the Bad Wolf persona of the Moment’s sentient interface. My final and biggest round is reserved for the actress herself who does a marvelous job. She easily could have reverted to the comfortable façade of Rose but instead she carves out a compelling new character who works remarkably well with the veteran John Hurt.

John Hurt, David Tennant, and Matt Smith—three more deserving rounds of applause. These three are reminiscent of that first anniversary pairing of a Doctor threesome, the venerable William Hartnell as the First Doctor and his two successors, Patrick Troughton and Jon Pertwee as Doctors Two and Three in the tenth anniversary story The Three Doctors. The advantage of The Day of the Doctor is that John Hurt, the “granddad” and youngest of our trio, is not confined as the ailing William Hartnell had been. Our present three Doctors get to fully interact throughout and the results are amazing.

Before getting together, however, each Doctor has his solo screen time; and again I have a loud round of applause for Steven Moffat for developing interesting narratives for each Doctor that come together seamlessly into a single entertaining plotline while sprinkling in liberal doses of nostalgia.

Oh, there are a few bumps along the way and a couple nagging questions that any Doctor Who inevitably has, but so what? The sign of a good Doctor Who is that you can overlook any and all such warts.

The good will starts with the original title sequence and opening theme segueing from the monochrome past into the living color present Coal Hill School at which Clara teaches and for which Ian Chesterton serves as Chairman of the Governors, and just around the corner from the I.M. Foreman Totter’s Lane scrap yard. A brilliant mix of old and new in such a few seconds; and this amalgamation continues expertly throughout. It is not merely the Classic and New Who; add in past New Who and present New Who; it all gets thrown into the blender and comes out a winner.

UNIT, Zygons, and the Time War drive our three strands of story, and it is all kicked off  with the bang of a high flying TARDIS. Time Lord art, Queen Elizabeth I and a fez (“Someday, you could just walk past a fez.”) further entwine the threads, and they all lead to our three Doctors meeting in the middle.

“Well, who are you boys? Oh, of course. Are you his companions?”  John Hurt as the Warrior Doctor is spectacular as he confronts the older yet younger versions of himself.  Equal to the task are David Tennant and Matt Smith as Doctors Ten and Eleven. I’ll probably run out of superlatives before I’m through.

My biggest praise, though, I’ll reserve for Steven Moffat for a script that gets it right. Any good Doctor Who demands that the actors treat the material seriously, but the material itself—the script, the effects, the production—should not overwhelm the narrative. So often New Who weighs itself down by taking itself too seriously; it becomes heavy with self reverence; it’s a ‘look at me’ mentality that turns the show into spectacle. The Day of the Doctor, however, reverses this trend by poking holes in the bloated self-image of the series.

The character of the Warrior Doctor is great at calling Doctor Who out. One of my favorites is the jab at the magic sonic: “Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They’re scientific instruments, not water pistols.”  Doctor Ten gets in the act as well with the following exchange.

Eleven: “It’s a timey-wimey thing.”

Warrior: “Timey what? Timey-wimey?”

Ten: “I’ve no idea where he picks that stuff up.”

A brilliant send-up, but it is given greater meaning when the Warrior Doctor delivers this line later in the episode: “Do you have to talk like children? What is it that makes you so ashamed of being grown up?”

It takes me back, Gary, to a point I made recently about New Who trying to appeal to the kids in adults rather than to the grown-up intelligence of children. And it ties in with the blessing and curse of a Time War with which New Who saddled itself. Christopher Eccleston as the Ninth Doctor is closer to the Warrior Doctor in both timeline and mentality, and I can almost imagine him delivering those same lines. But he was transitional and he had Rose to indulge his immaturity as a means to obliterate his dark past. Ten and Eleven have had plenty of opportunity to further distance themselves from depressing reality; to become “the man who regrets and the man who forgets.”

The Time War has shaped the show and the Doctor from the first airing of Rose. The Day of the Doctor finally confronts the Doctor and the show with that truth. Rather than turning it into a black hole of angst it uses this moment to reflect and grow. Along the way it delivers an entertaining story and exciting adventure. This is the heights to which New Who could and should strive but so often doesn’t.

The Zygons, displaced by the Time War, end up in 1562 where they encounter Doctor Ten and Queen Elizabeth I. Utilizing Time Lord art technology they invade present day London where Doctor Eleven is consulting with Kate Stewart of UNIT. Meanwhile, the Warrior Doctor, in his darkest hour, is contemplating the destruction of not only the Dalek fleet but his own planet and race in order to bring about universal peace. The Bad Wolf Rose interface persona of The Moment (the ultimate weapon the Warrior Doctor is considering using) opens a window into his future in order for the Warrior Doctor to make a better informed decision. Doctor Eleven joins Doctor Ten in 1562, as does the Warrior Doctor. Together they bring about a peaceable solution to the Zygon invasion as well as brainstorming an alternative to the non-fixed-point-apparently ending to the Time War. All of this fleshed out with not only the three Doctors, but by Clara, Kate Stewart, Queen Elizabeth I, Bad Wolf, and Osgood; embellished with humor; adorned with self-parody; and accented with nostalgia.

There are too many highlights to single out: “We’re confusing the polarity.” “Nice scarf.” “Fez incoming!” The photo board of companions.  “I’m the Doctor. I’m 904 years old. I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness . . . and you are basically just a rabbit, aren’t you?” Malcolm—Malcolm! Sandshoes. “This is what I’m like when I’m alone.” “It wasn’t locked.” “I love the round things.” “Oh, you’ve redecorated; I don’t like it.” " I don't want to go." Too, too many.

The Zygon resolution is a little rushed but ultimately unimportant. It is the impact this scenario has on the Doctor in his Moment that matters.

“All things considered , it’s time I grew up,” Warrior Doctor says as he makes up his mind. John Hurt, the Warrior Doctor. “You were the Doctor on the day it wasn’t possible to get it right.” But he does get it right. John Hurt, the Warrior Doctor. This is the Doctor I can picture turning into the Ninth, Christopher Eccleston. This is the Doctor I can sense haunting the Ninth throughout his tenure. This is the Doctor I can see lurking behind the stories as the Tenth sits down to tell them to Martha in the undercity of New Earth. This is the Doctor I imagine the Eleventh denies.

But he has had four hundred years to think and to grow, and Warrior Doctor is no longer alone. Ten and Eleven, at the prodding of Clara, arrive to stand by Warrior Doctor’s side. The story very well could have ended with the three pushing the “big red button” together (reminiscent of Donna and Doctor Ten in The Fires of Pompeii). That would have been a satisfying conclusion. However the show opts for a more optimistic ending, and I can’t fault it for that. On this grand and glorious 50^th Anniversary it is fitting that Doctor Eleven, again at the prompting of Clara, decides that there is another way. And how grand and glorious and fitting that “all twelve of them!”—“no sir, all thirteen!”—combine in the effort.

“And for my next trick . . .” Gallifrey is gone; preserved; frozen in a moment of time. The technology of Time Lord “cup-of-soup” art once again coming into play. “Gallifrey Falls No More.”

This timey-wimey historical re-write gets it right. It preserves the integrity of all the episodes that have come before with a simple, “I won’t remember this, will I?” and a typical Doctor Who explanation of, “the time streams are out of sync.” Only Eleven and his successors will know the truth; leaving open possibilities for the future.

To top everything off, though, is a surprise that propels The Day of the Doctor easily into contention for best episode honors. Tom Baker—I don’t even have to say anything more.

And so on a joyous note I send this out, Gary; hoping it finds you where you’ve always been going, on your way . . .

“home . . . the long way round.”

The Night of the Doctor

Dear Gary—

“I’m not injured; I’m crashing. I don’t need a doctor.”

I usually don’t write about the mini-episodes, but The Night of the Doctor is not only brilliant it is almost essential viewing prior to The Day of the Doctor.

Cass, a fighter pilot in the middle of the infamous Time War utters those lines as cited above; but it could be the Doctor Who universe speaking. The brief minutes of The Night of the Doctor manage to bridge deep chasms and answer numerous questions within that universe, and it does so in most elegant fashion.

The enigmatic Ninth Doctor emerges from the TARDIS in Rose with deep angst, and only slowly do we get pieces of his dark history and the tragedy of the Time Lords. At the end of The Name of the Doctor we are introduced to the mysterious non-Doctor persona of the Doctor. In Night we get the transitional tale explaining the creation of this inscrutable character as well as finally getting closure on the Eight Doctor.

The linchpin making all of this work is Paul McGann as the Eighth Doctor. Paul McGann is the best thing, possibly the only good thing, about Doctor Who the TV Movie. It is wonderful to see more of him as the Doctor. Even in these fleeting moments of screen time Paul McGann is the Doctor.

The story starts out in typical Doctor Who fashion with the Doctor materializing in the midst of danger to save the day. Cass is crashing and there is no hope. The Doctor arrives and leads her to safety; leads her to the TARDIS. Except to Cass the TARDIS is not a symbol of hope and the Doctor is not her savior.

“You’re a Time Lord,” she accuses as she turns from him in contempt.

This is what the Time War has wrought.

Rather than leave without her, the Doctor crashes along with Cass on the planet of Karn where the Sisterhood awaits. I always wondered if the Sisterhood of Karn with their Elixir of Life would make a reappearance. They once saved the Fourth Doctor (The Brain of Morbius), and now they again stand ready with their potion to bring him back from the dead and to trigger his regeneration.

The little we get of McGann shows glimmers of that Fourth Doctor. “Four minutes?” he considers when he learns that is all of life he has left. “That’s ages. What if I get bored, or need a television, couple of books? Anyone for chess? Bring me knitting.” And then when he realizes where he is and with whom: “You’re the Sisterhood of Karn, Keepers of the Flame of utter boredom.” Yes, he comfortably inhabits the Doctor.

 “It’s not my war; I will have no part of it,” he tells Ohila as she urges him to put an end to the Time War. “I help where I can. I will not fight,” he adds. Paul McGann’s delivery of these simple lines expresses the overwhelming weariness that weighs upon him. But standing before the dead body of the woman who refused his help and with the words of Ohila ringing in his ears, the Doctor can no longer ignore the screaming universe: “I’m not injured; I’m crashing. I don’t need a doctor.”

“Make me a warrior now,” he says as he resigns himself to the inevitable. Calling upon his companions of the past, he drinks the potion.

“Doctor no more.”

A very young looking John Hurt stares back in reflection and we're ready for the battle ahead.

So much is told in these few minutes, Gary. Paul McGann very well could have rivaled Tom Baker in my heart given enough time and given the right production team.

The Name of the Doctor

Dear Gary—

Probable Girl meet Rumpelstiltskin; at long last; and almost as insubstantial as I expected. However I can enjoy it on the inconsequentially entertaining level that it is.

“I don’t know where I am.” It’s a nice echo from Clara’s first story. When the Doctor first met Clara she had been uploaded into the Great Intelligence’s World Wide Web; now both she and the Great Intelligence upload themselves into the Doctor’s time stream.

It’s very amusing. I know it is done with great gravitas and dramatic effect, but it is not substantiated in any way. We are told that the Great Intelligence has jumped into the Doctor’s time stream and that this has killed him (the GI), but not before he has had the time and the ability to consciously alter the Doctor’s time line and effectively kill the Doctor over and over again in each iteration of his being. We don’t see any of this and are not offered any explanations as to how this is accomplished; we are simply to take this on faith. Likewise, we are to believe that Clara jumping in after the GI doesn’t kill her but allows her to deliberately follow after each shard of the GI that exists within that time stream and successfully thwart his every move. That is several seasons’ worth of storytelling right there, but we don’t even get a cliff notes version.

What we do get is a whirlwind of Doctor images flashing past a very That Girl looking Clara. (In fact, I wouldn’t doubt that Clara took the opportunity to be Marlo Thomas as one of her many personas inside the Doctor’s time stream.) It’s great to see the mixture of original footage and body doubles of the Doctor that whiz by in our magical mystery tour. Not for a minute do I consider that any of this compromises the long and rich history of the Doctor. Not for a minute do I wonder why I never saw a glimpse of the Probable Girl during my slow path of Doctor Who viewing. Not for a minute do I think that Clara’s interference diminishes the many accomplishments of the Doctor. Because not for a minute do I believe any of this. This is just some more Matrix tampering. I almost expect to see the action stopped mid stream to witness the Time Lords swirling around in their theater chairs to listen to a rant by the Valeyard before they turn their attention back to the screen.

If I were to stop for one minute and accept this tale as Doctor Who fact, then I would have to scratch my head at the paradox of it all. How, I would wonder, did the Doctor meet splinters of this Probable Girl before she even considered turning herself into Clara confetti? It’s timey wimey. OK. But the events of The Dalek Asylum and The Snowmen would have originally gone down very differently without the Clara flakes floating about. Yet the Doctor only knows those versions even before they were created by the Clara/GI Soufflé. It is because he knows those versions and therefore knows Clara that he travels with her to begin with and ends up at his graveside with the irritated GI on his tail.

Oh, but timey wimey. It has all been changed. Changed and re-changed. The Doctor has been rebooted. There is the original, the GI tainted, and the Clara restart. Timey Wimey.

No, I just don’t buy it.

But I can skim along the surface of the story and enjoy it.

Any episode featuring the Victorian detectives is bound to be fun, no matter how gratuitous they are. Strax alone provides tons of comic relief. Add in a return of River Song and the entertainment value rises even higher. The comatose conference call is cool, although the changing desktop bit is wearing a bit thin. I’m not really sure what the purpose of the call is either. Like so much of New Who these days, we don’t get much background information. We don’t know who this Clarence guy is or what his connection is to Vastra or why she would listen to him or how she would be able to save him from execution. He mumbles a few cryptic lines concerning the Doctor, and rather than contacting the Doctor directly Vastra and Jenny call on Strax, Clara, and River to ponder on the mysterious message: “The Doctor has a secret, you know. He has one he will take to the grave. And it is discovered.”

They accomplish nothing during this telepathic teleconference other than to assemble the guest cast together and set up the plot elements. But it is one of the highlights of the episode and greatly amusing. And while it seems most irresponsible of Jenny to have left their door unlocked, her realization that they are being invaded and that she has been murdered is very effective and moving.

I’m not so sure about the Whisper Men, however. These Silent wannabes are sprung on us out of thin air; and while creepy, they have no context. We don’t know where they come from, what their motive is, or what powers they possess. For some reason they are working for the Great Intelligence, who for some reason has an all-consuming hatred of the Doctor. For some even more inexplicable reason, the Whisper Men whisper their secret secrets to Clarence who whispers them to Vastra who telewhispers them to Strax, River, and Clara. I’m not really sure why this telephone chain game was started. It’s all to get them and the Doctor to Trenzalore, but there surely has to be a less convoluted and more certain way of doing this. But then it wouldn’t be nearly as entertaining for the audience.

The audience isn’t supposed to question any of this, of course. I’m sorry, Gary. I can’t help asking questions. Like why are Jenny, Strax, and Vastra powerless against the Whisper Men? This goes back to my previous questions about the Whisper Men. This trio has fought many an adversary. What is special about the Whisper Men? And why are our heroes unarmed? This would be a perfect time for Strax to whip out one of his grenades that he loves to mention. The Whisper Men also appear to be unarmed. Some of Jenny’s hand to hand combat experience would come in handy. But the Whisper Men prove to have miraculous powers to mend themselves cartoon like. It’s all very convenient and unlikely.

Next I wonder about the GI. Why is he doing this? He wants revenge against the Doctor. Stand in line. But OK, he wants revenge. He has an unreasoning, blind hatred that drives him to suicide just to accomplish his goal of re-writing the Doctor’s life. Now this guy obviously has the power to travel through time and space in the blink of an eye as well as to transport others against their will. Couldn’t he just as easily hop scotch his way through the Doctor’s life undoing his deeds without the aid of the Doctor’s dying time line and without destroying himself in the process? Of course he could. But then we wouldn’t have a story. And we wouldn’t have Probable Girl jumping in after the GI and we wouldn’t have this seasonal arc—and oh, Gary, I wish we could watch that season that wasn’t.

The more I think about it the less impressed I am. It’s a fun watch but that’s about it. And ultimately it’s another cheat. Another re-write of history. Oh—I guess it’s appropriate in that case that River makes an appearance. She’s all for re-writing history. The tender parting between her and the Doctor is well done. It is a shame, though, that the story is short-handed. The GI, the Whisper Men, the time altering lifetimes crammed into montage. It all seems just an excuse to wrap up some loose ends and get some cool ideas on camera. We’re given a huge framework with very few details to fill it in.

And the whole leaf thing is . . . oh, I don’t even want to dignify.

But then we get to the real reason we were all brought here—and it almost makes everything worthwhile.

“John Hurt as the Doctor.”

Doctor: “He is my secret.”

This was worth waiting for.

Doctor (not): “What I did, I did without choice.”

Doctor: “I know.”

Doctor (not): “In the name of peace and sanity.”

And here it is; here is what rips the Rumpelstiltskin out of the dreary long ‘Doctor Who?’ inanity of an arc and turns it on its head . . .

Doctor: “But not in the name of the Doctor.”

That is a punch line I can appreciate, Gary.