The Eleventh Hour

Dear Gary—

I have to say that while David Tennant is probably the most entertaining of the Doctors Matt Smith is promising to be one of the most likeable based on this premier episode. Additionally I would like to put on record that I find this one of the best introductions of a new companion in the history of the series. The minute Matt Smith peeks out from the crashed TARDIS he inhabits the role of the Doctor, and his subsequent meeting with the fabulous Amelia Pond is charming. There is something very real about this fairy tale encounter. There is a tricky balance between reality and once-upon-a-time and The Eleventh Hour gets it right. It crawls inside a child’s mind and gets it right. It gets it “fish fingers and custard” right.

The make believe world Amelia creates out of this brief interlude with her “Raggedy Doctor” is sweet. The stories and pictures and play-acting are endearing and apparently well known to the residents of the story book village in which she dwells. We see none of this, but the few lines of exposition and the reactions by others tells us all we need to know.

Children grow up however and Amelia becomes Amy. Twelve years of lonely life berated by adults and assailed by psychiatrists and Amy’s illusions have been shattered. Now, twelve years later, Amy Pond is confronted by her imaginary friend come to life. Is it any wonder she whacks him with a cricket bat?

Amy Pond is hardened and cynical. She doesn’t doubt the Doctor because he is a fact before her, but she is not going to cut him any slack. She is not going to trust him with that childlike innocence that Amelia possessed. Even in the face of aliens and danger she is going to handcuff him to a radiator and slam his tie into a car door to pin him down and get answers. She is not going to let him duck into the TARDIS with a promise to return in five minutes only to have another twelve years go by. And she is not going to listen to him when he tells her not to go into that mysterious room. She is about proof; something tangible; no more fairy tales.

Amelia was not alone in her childhood whimsy, however. We never meet little Rory, only twelve-years-later Rory, but we know that Rory shared in Amelia’s fantasy world. Amelia knew the Doctor as a certainty; he was flesh and blood before her. It therefore is not as difficult for Amy to accept his authenticity once the evidence of the apple is presented. Rory, however, is befuddled by the Doctor; the Raggedy Doctor. “How can he be real?” It is the question continually on Rory’s mind because the Doctor dwells still in Rory’s imagination. He never had the flexibility of thought that characterizes childhood drilled out of him. It is this same open-mindedness that allows him to see the impossible; to see the coma patients wandering the streets; to take pictures of a man walking his dog when a giant spaceship is looming in the sky. He doesn’t understand; he is confused; but he doesn’t try to rationalize it away. He sees the Doctor; he talks to the Doctor; he knows that the Doctor is standing before him. The Doctor is a dream come to life; an impossible fact. Impossible facts ultimately are simply a matter of faith. All Rory can do is wonder and believe.

Personally I have no problem accepting this Raggedy Doctor. Matt Smith is the Doctor. He is young and fast talking, a perfect fit for the action packed and shorter episodes of New Who. Yet there is a call-back to Classic Who as well. I particularly like his three conditions for Amelia: “Do everything I tell you, don’t ask stupid questions, and don’t wander off.” It is very reminiscent of the ground rules the Fourth Doctor lays out for Romana in The Ribos Operation. The Eleventh Doctor might be out of little Amelia’s fantasy but he is not the dreamboat that Rose conjured up. Grown up Amy does not have stars in her eyes when she looks at the Doctor. Grown up Amy promises to be an old fashioned Doctor Who companion.

 The plot itself is appropriate for this new Doctor in the New Who. “Prisoner Zero has escaped” is a basic alien on Earth scenario. The crack in the wall, the room that no one dares notice, and things lurking out of the corner of one’s eye are elements taken straight from a child’s nightmare. It all comes together in a rapid fire adventure that is funny and scary and relatively simple. It is curious that Prisoner Zero takes up residence in Amy’s house and is content to hang out for twelve years until the Doctor’s return. However I suppose the Doctor’s explanation (“multiforms can live for millennia; twelve years is a pit-stop”) is as good an explanation as any. I also have to wonder how an advanced race of outer space police hunting down a multiform has no means of identification other than visual. However it fits nicely into the narrative and Rory’s picture taking.

The twenty minutes to save the world with no TARDIS and no sonic screwdriver is also a nice contrivance. This race against time is exciting and the Doctor’s usage of the people and resources on hand is clever. Hacking into the international power call and leaving the explanations to Jeff is amusing if unbelievable, and I have to ask where UNIT is and why the Doctor didn’t just use his UNIT credentials or even his psychic paper to convince the powers that be, but oh well. Taking the time during all this chaos to throw together his new outfit is another fantastic touch that dovetails beautifully with this Eleventh Doctor. His reaction to his new image (“Well that’s rubbish. Who’s that supposed to be?”) is classic and his explanation for not knowing what he looks like (“Busy day.”) is delightfully apt.

A new Doctor for this not so new anymore New Who. This episode is an adrenaline rush that restores my lagging faith in the show.

Until . . .

“I didn’t say you could go.”

Along with Rory I question: “Did he just save the world from aliens and then bring all the aliens back again?”

Now the effect of all those beloved faces of the Doctor ending with the Eleventh Doctor fully put together walking through the projection and stating, “Hello; I’m the Doctor,” is cool. As cool as his bow tie. I don’t deny that. It is a wonderful moment. One of those stand up and cheer moments. But it is marred. It is marred by the lecture. He saves the world from aliens (“actual aliens; deadly aliens; aliens of death”) and then calls them back to give them a stern talking to. This is his Principal Skinner moment.  Followed by his Reese Witherspoon ‘do you know who I am’ moment.

And then there is the crack that won’t go away and Prisoner Zero knowing far too much about it. “The Pandorica will open. Silence will fall.” I don’t want to jump ahead, but how can I not? We just went through this whole dark and ominous fortune telling nonsense and here it crops up again. The Pandorica. The Silence. The cracked universe. The show invites us to look into its crystal ball.

For now I’ll just say that this crack is inconsistent. Here it allows people to jump back and forth between worlds and memories of lost loved ones (namely Amy’s mother) are intact. That’s all I want to say on the subject at this time. The show will force me to speak more as the season progresses.

I’ll end on a positive note because the episode does. “I’m in my nightie.” Amy in the TARDIS. It’s a wonderful scene as Amy signs up for a TARDIS run and the parting shot of her wedding dress hanging expectantly in the closet adds an unexpected element. But the best is a new yet old definition for the Doctor: “I am definitely a madman with a box.”

A new Doctor for this not so new anymore New Who.

And so I say, Gary, “Hello everything . . .”

David Tennant

Dear Gary—

David Tennant is born into the role of the Tenth Doctor almost in a coma that he is reluctant to wake from; he goes out kicking and screaming. In between his Tenth Doctor is heroic, romantic, and charismatic; he is also self-absorbed, self-aggrandizing, and self-righteous. Through it all and above all he is entertaining. In short he is the epitome of New Who.

This is Doctor Who all grown up; and yet he has never been so juvenile.

It starts with Rose. The Ninth Doctor was smitten but managed to rise above. The Tenth wakes into this young girl’s fantasy and he lowers himself to her mentality. At times I think Bill and Ted are more mature in their adventures. The Doctor and Rose hit their low point in The Idiot’s Lantern when their hijinks tend to the mean-spirited. For the most part, though, the two are well intentioned even if a little too class clown and cliquish.

After Rose’s dramatic departure Martha continues the adulation of the Doctor. However, the Doctor keeps Martha at arm’s length. As cloying as the Doctor’s relationship with Rose was, I’m not sure that this aloof approach is an improvement. There are some genuine moments between the Doctor and Martha but they are brief and far between. I think the closest the two get is at the end of Gridlock.

 Both Rose and Martha feed the Doctor’s ego. He manages to have a deeper relationship with some one-shot guest stars, most notably in The Girl in the Fireplace and HumanNature/The Family of Blood, only to return to the doting girls at his feet. Thankfully Donna puts an end to the fawn fest.

 Donna is Doctor Who getting the companion right. The two have fun together but not at the expense or exclusion of others. There is a compassion and warmth and understanding with these two. There is also a respect and admiration without the worship. Donna is always eager to help the Doctor but never hesitant to challenge him as well. The Fires of Pompeii is one of many fine examples of this. When the Doctor wipes Donna’s mind Wilf bemoans the fact that she was better when she was with him. However I think it is the Doctor who is the bigger loser. Donna makes the Doctor a better person.

Companionless in the specials, the Doctor begins to revert to the exclusionary demeanor he had with Rose. If he can’t have one companion forever and always by his side, he reasons, then he’ll have none. The Doctor has had countless people traveling with him through his many generations; countless TARDIS crew have come and gone. School Reunion with the wonderful Sarah Jane Smith explores this heartbreaking reality of his life. Now at the end of his tenth generation and after 900 plus years he finally has enough. This tenth generation stamps his foot and will have no more of it.

Delving into these emotional depths is an interesting development in New Who; but there is a danger to it. New Who has put so much emphasis on the Doctor, his relationships, his feelings, his psychology; New Who has made the adventures secondary. The adventures are now all in service to the Doctor and to the season story arc that will reveal some deep dark secret or explore the Doctor’s nature or bring the Doctor face to face with the ultimate decision/peril/destiny. The show is called Doctor Who for a reason; the Doctor should remain a mystery. New Who is so fascinated with the enigma of the Doctor that it over indulges. It shines a glaring spotlight on him to reveal his innermost thoughts and then tries it’s hardest to throw him back into the wonder of shadows. It wants to keep things about the Doctor hidden yet it continually harps on those very things. There are only so many times you can ask the question ‘Doctor Who?’ before you are compelled to answer it; but then you have to answer it in a way that doesn’t quite answer it so that you can continue to ask the question and then you have to come up with more half answers to keep stringing along. Let the title alone ask the question and stop hitting us over the head with it.

Sorry Gary, I got off track there with a bigger Who issue, although it has its beginnings with the Tenth Doctor. One outcome of this disturbing trend of trying to illuminate and at the same time enshroud the Doctor is the emerging picture of a hallowed nature. From his congregation of young girls to his sometimes godlike powers to images of angels flying him heavenward, this Tenth Doctor flirts with divinity. That is one of the things I love about The Waters of Mars; it shows up this lonely lord as a false idol.

With David Tennant we get some lighthearted fun ala New Earth, Partners in Crime, and The Unicorn and the Wasp; we get some tender and moving fare ala School Reunion, The Girl in the Fireplace, and Human Nature/The Family of Blood; and we get some psychological fare ala Midnight. We get action adventure, spine-tinglers, and extravaganzas. We get a little bit of everything and most of it is good. However there are also some bad, including three that I would put at the bottom of my all time Doctor Who stories: The Idiot’s Lantern, Fear Her, and The Lazarus Experiment.

I have struggled in writing this entry, Gary, as I have for most of the Tennant serials. I don’t want to be as negative as I sound and yet it keeps coming out that way. I really enjoy David Tennant as the Doctor and in my original rankings had him in fourth place. However when I come to final placements I will probably move him down at least one notch. David Tennant is the most charming and entertaining of all of the Doctors and that covers many flaws; but I have uncovered the flaws and they nag at me.

I continue on my slow path, Gary, weary though it has become . . .

The End of Time, Part Two

Dear Gary—

Let’s see, where did we leave off? Oh yes, the Time Lords were returning. These are not the galactic ticket inspectors of old, though. These are fully hardened war lords driven mad with battle lust. I do find it amusing that these lords of time who have all of time and space at their disposal, who can look into the Time Vortex and Untempered Schism, who control the laws of time, these almighty Time Lords hang on the every gesture of a soothsayer. The character is quite effective, however, and I am reminded of the Seeker from The Ribos Operation.

Time Lords gone mad. Six billion Masters have nothing on them.

Oh yeah, what of the Master and his six billion grinning, clapping, and waving clones? They are still grinning and clapping and waving, mostly rooted to the same spots in which we left them last except for a few who are scurrying about at the Master’s command. That’s the problem with six billion Masters. They are redundant. The one practical use these extraneous extras serve is one that is becoming a habit for Mankind in the new Who universe—and that is to serve as a transmitter. In Last of the Time Lords they all thought the one word (Doctor) to work their magic Peter Pan spell; in The Stolen Earth it is their phones that are used to transmit the Doctor’s telephone number. Here in The End of Time Part Two hapless humanity, in the shape of the Master, tune in to the drum beat in unison in order to track down its source.

 It is all to good effect, though, and that is what New Who is all about. The End of Time (Parts One and Two) are Doctor Who at its most self indulgent.

I have long since learned that there is no use trying to follow any logical thread in these two part season ending stories. Most plot elements exist merely as a thin veil to string together a series of dramatic highpoints, spectacular special effects, and poignant character moments. 

Let’s take Wilf’s gun as one example. The Woman in White cajoles and chastises Wilf with vaguely dire prophecies into digging it out from storage. This gun obviously has been set up as a linchpin and is the center of some interesting discussion between Wilf and the Doctor. It becomes a focal point emphasizing the Doctor’s pacifism as he resists Wilf’s urgent and moving pleas; but in a flash the Doctor tosses aside his principles when he learns of the returning Time Lords and he grabs the previously rejected gun without hesitation. This is the Doctor taking arms. Shakily he stands between the Master with his Skeletor powers and Rassilon with his lightning bolt throwing gloves and he cows them both; with Wilf’s rusty revolver that has been collecting dust under his bed for who knows how long. I think the sheer audacity of it has awed the Master and Rassilon into inaction. The Doctor can’t make up his mind, though, which mighty Time Lord to use it on until he gets the brilliant idea to shoot out the controls that will send the Time Lords and Gallifrey back where they belong. That’s always the go-to Doctor Who solution—disable the controls. Why didn’t he just do that and be done with it? And for that matter, why the need for the gun at all? What’s wrong with his magic sonic which he has used countless times to damage controls and at least once in this episode alone? But then we wouldn’t have any of the drama and the pathos and that is what this entire show is about.

And spectacle. Let’s not forget the spectacle. What would Doctor Who be without explosions and chases? The Doctor and Wilf and the Cacti in a spaceship being chased by dozens of missiles. They’re dead, of course. Ten times over they are dead. Except this isn’t reality; this is virtual reality complete with game boy chairs and joysticks.

Speaking of dead of course—the Doctor hurtling at high speed from the space ship, smashing through a glass skylight, and crashing onto the hard floor putting the drop that did in the Fourth Doctor to shame. Dead of course. Except this is only virtual reality; he pops up with a few scratches and a torn coat. (And after surviving that he expects to face down Skeletor and the Lord President with a bullet.)

It is a breathtaking ride of a comic book narrative. When it is all over the disposable characters need to be disposed of. That’s easy. With just a line or two the Cacti skedaddle and the Naismiths are arrested for “crimes undisclosed.” The six billion Masters are handily erased with one magic wave of Rassilon’s glove.

Even the Time Lords are disposable really. They look and sound impressive; they put on a good show; but ultimately all of their ‘end of time’ threats come to naught. The Doctor warns that “hell is descending,” but all we see are a few Time Lords standing around and a giant planet appearing in the sky with no apparent adverse effects upon the Earth. There is just too much crammed into these two hours and none of it is given the time to fully develop (although the origin for the sound of drums in the Master’s head is one rich nugget gleaned from this flash in the pan).

Everything that has been crammed into the story has all been to serve one end, and that is the departure of David Tennant. It is a grand and epic spectacle put on in his honor. Through it all we are left to guess and wonder when and how it will happen; through it all we are misdirected and misled; through it all Wilf remains by his side as friend and counselor and ally.

“He will knock four times.” How fitting that the Doctor has emerged unscathed from the mayhem only to hear Wilf’s meek little raps on the glass and realize his time is up. (I’ll refrain from commenting on the idiotic nature of these chambers that can only be pulled out of the desperate air of a writer’s mind.)

It is indicative of this tenth generation that he throws a hissy fit when confronted with the inevitable. Even though he had been warned and prepared, he rants and raves to the bitter end.  “It’s not fair!” How many lives have ended in just this serial alone, not to mention since the Tenth Doctor first woke up on Christmas Day; and yet the Doctor cannot reconcile the fact that he is about to regenerate; not die but regenerate, something he has done nine times before; to walk away and live for perhaps another 906 years.

“Oh, I’ve lived too long,” he finally decides as he releases Wilf from the most ridiculous of predicaments and absorbs five hundred thousand rads of radiation.

He’s not done yet, though. He’s not quite ready to give up this pleasing form of his with the great hair adored by young girls. He is off for one last jaunt to claim his reward.

I said this was Doctor Who at its most self indulgent, and these last few moments of The End of Time Part Two are decadent with indulgence. It is a reward not only for the Doctor and for Doctor Who but for the fans as well, this end of an era extravagance. This is a chance to revisit old friends one last time. It’s all made up and contrived, of course, but that is appropriate for this Doctor. I also notice that he blatantly breaks those laws of time that he preaches as he crosses time lines and peeks in on people at the most coincidentally opportune times. I don’t mind; I’ll take this reward along with the Doctor. I don’t even mind seeing Rose again. Jack, Sarah, Mickey, Martha, Jackie; how great to meet up with them once more. With the added bonus of Alonso and the granddaughter of Joan Redfern. And of course the final parting from Donna, Wilf, and Sylvia. Lovely vignettes to shut out the Tenth Doctor’s run.

“We will sing to you, Doctor.” Ood Sigma stands by as the Doctor finally starts to lose his grasp on this generation.

“The universe will sing you to your sleep.” Quite a production for this tenth in a continuing line.

“This song is ending.” It’s taking its time, but it is ending.

“But the story never ends.” We’ve been here before. We know what is coming next.

“I don’t want to go.” No, I think we have gathered from your feet dragging that you don’t want to go.

Self indulgent. But appropriate.

At long last—Matt Smith.

Geronimo Gary . . .

The End of Time, Part One

Dear Gary—

This is what happens when you feel the need to come up with a bigger, more spectacular finale each and every time. Eventually you reach a point of diminishing returns. Eventually you run out of ideas and just throw everything you can think of at it and hope something sticks. The End of Time, Part One (along with its companion piece Part Two but more on that one later) is just such a whirlwind of a story.

It is all meant to feel grand and epic and prophetic. Some of it works and some of it doesn’t. Some of it is explained and some of it isn’t. There is so much crammed in, though, that one loses track.

Just look at the first few minutes. We have a Narrator predicting the end of the Earth (doesn’t happen by the way). Then we have visions of a laughing Master while being reminded of the events from Last of the Time Lords and told that people are dreaming about those forgotten days. Next we see Wilf (the Narrator implies that Wilf is the one person who has not forgotten that lost year, but he can’t remember any better than the rest). Wilf is joined by a mysterious woman in a church which inexplicably contains an image of the TARDIS in one of its stained glass windows. Finally we get the Doctor in sunglasses and lei being uncharacteristically insufferable, flippant, and callous, obviously not taking his lesson from The Waters of Mars to heart. He is joined by an Ood and is struck by the improbability of the advancements made by the Ood civilization. We are treated to visions in the Ood circle, again of the Master and of Wilf and of a new mystery couple (“the King is in his counting house”). And we get vague explanations of “time is bleeding” and “a shadow is falling over creation.” It is all fuzzy and unexplained. None of this clarifies why people are dreaming or how the Ood development is being accelerated. It is a shroud of mystery meant to divert and mislead, and through it all is the refrain: “Returning, returning, returning.”

This all culminates in the Master’s resurrection. Now keep in mind everyone has forgotten that lost year of John Saxon’s rule. Not Saxon himself, just his rule. People are dreaming of this man but don’t recognize him as the man they elected as Prime Minister and who went insane and was murdered by his wife in spectacular fashion. He has been dead for some time, but before his death, before even his forgotten year, he had written the mysterious (again that word) “Secret Books of Saxon” and apparently recruited a cult of female prison guards to gather up his ring and the all important “Potions of Life” (I have visions of my own of Martha Jones laughing derisively at the notion of a gun with deadly Time Lord chemicals). The prison guard cultists drag an innocent looking Lucy Saxon (sorry, but she’s still a despicable collaborator in my mind) into an appropriately looking ancient ritual room where Lucy’s magic lipstick is used as the final ingredient to rebuild the Master. But oh, wait. At the last second Lucy reveals her own potion and everything goes wrong in explosive fashion. I guess her potion didn’t quite work as planned, though, as the Master is witnessed fleeing the burning building by that mystery couple from the Ood vision.

All of this could have filled an hour or two of its own episode, but instead is thrown at us in the first 15 minutes of this two part story. Doctor Who of old always managed to bring the Master back against impossible odds with a line or two of ‘oh, by the way’ explanation. New Who has gone to the opposite extreme in bringing back this indestructible foe of the Doctor’s.

The next 45 minutes of Part One has more in store for us. Much, much more.

Let’s see. I’ll start with the mystery woman in white. She continues to appear to Wilf and to Wilf alone. For some strange reason (never explained) she warns Wilf not to tell the Doctor about her. She also inexplicably chastises Wilf for never having killed a man and tells him to “take arms.” (The thing about all these prophecies sprinkled throughout—quite a few of them are false. They exist for atmosphere and effect but in the end never come to fruition.) The woman herself, however, is wonderfully portrayed by Claire Bloom and lends a dignity and elegance to the proceedings.

Then we have the mystery ‘King in His Counting House’ couple. These are disposable distraction characters. These two evil master minds only serve to bring our cast together and provide the giant gate gizmo. Somehow they have heard about the Master and know of his resurrection by the female prison guard cult and have discerned that he is an alien (for a forgotten man, an awful lot of people seem to know an awful lot about Harold Saxon). They also intuitively know that the alien machine they have salvaged has the capability of providing immortality; they just don’t know how it works or how to fix it. (And I’m sorry Gary, but the only two people who can get away with cancelling Christmas are Alan Rickman and Michael G Scott.)

Next in our line of disposable distractions: the Vinvocci. More aliens right under the noses of the Counting House Couple and helping them to fix their Immortality Gate. The two undercover extraterrestrials are on Earth to salvage this machine, but I’m not sure why they don’t just grab it and leave; it’s beyond me why they feel the need to fix it first. I suppose they exist merely as comic relief and the whole “shimmer” bit is funny. The Doctor likens them to the Zocci Bannakaffalatta from Voyage of the Damned, but I’m more reminded of Meglos; Wilf even describes Miss Addams as a cactus.

Speaking of comic relief: the Silver Cloak. This busload of golden oldies helping Wilf to find the Doctor is a hoot. A total disposable distraction but hilarious.

Fortunately what is not lost in this chaos is the heart of the episode embodied by the trio of the Doctor, the Master, and Wilf.

I’ll start with the Master since he seems to be the eye of the storm of plot threads whizzing about. After he has been resurrected, not regenerated mind you but resurrected, the Master gains comic book villain powers; the Doctor even refers to him as Skeletor at one point. He has also gone completely insane. Without a clear-cut plan and ravenously hungry, the Master starts eating his way through the population of Earth. This is where the King in His Counting House, AKA Joshua Naismith, conveniently comes in to hand over a weapon to the Master and give him a purpose. And this is where our green alien cacti come in to provide exposition concerning the Immortality Gate.

The Immortality Gate; the improbable machine that mends whole planets. In a matter of minutes the Master fixes this miracle worker not to heal his life force burning body but to turn every human being into himself. It is unclear if these duplicates have the same Skeletor powers or the same insanity or the same maddening drum beats. It is also unclear if these billions of new Masters running about the Earth will all seek to dominate one day. It would be interesting to see if they would become power hungry and fight amongst themselves for supremacy. For the moment, though, they just seem to be content to stand around grinning, clapping, and waving.

It is a good concept and a startling good effect, aside from the distraction of trying to pick out duplicate Master templates in the crowd. It suits this everything-but-the-kitchen-sink whirlwind of a story.

Before being snatched up by Naismith, however, the Master has some nice moments reminiscing with the Doctor about his vast estates on Gallifrey. He has his chance to kill the Doctor but stops short. It is an interesting psychological dance these two antagonists have choreographed through the centuries; a love/hate relationship spanning time and space. The drum beats in the Master’s head has added a dimension to this dynamic, and the moment when the Doctor actually hears the ominous pounding is tantalizing.

Topping the Master and the Doctor in the episode, however, is the quiet little scene of the Doctor and Wilf in the café discussing life and death. The Doctor has known for some time that his “song is ending” and he has been hanging on as long as possible. This is the most self-absorbed generation he has ever had (I blame it on Rose).  It’s an elegant little speech though: “Even then, even if I change, it feels like dying. Everything I am dies. Some new man goes sauntering away, and I’m dead.”

And then we have the added bonus of Donna. Donna’s presence is heartbreaking, not for her but for the Doctor and Wilf. Donna still can’t remember, but Wilf can and her loss is devastating to him. The Doctor has his own memories to mourn, and it is evident that he both misses and needs her in his life. Donna herself seems perfectly happy with her new man and the guarded peace she has with her mother. Christmas in the Noble house seems a pleasant affair and at least Donna shows signs of having overcome her dread of the holiday. It’s nice to see Sylvia again as well; she shows genuine concern for her daughter and offers more comic relief to the mix.

In the end, though, it comes down to the Doctor and Wilf teaming up (Wilf in the TARDIS is long overdue); and it comes down to the Master (“there is only the Master race”). Except no. All of these prophecies and clues and dreams and various bits and pieces of story lines converge on the duplicitous Master only to be diverted.

“This day was the day upon which the whole of creation would change forever. This was the day the Time Lords returned.”

The Narrator (Timothy Dalton no less) is revealed in all of his glory. Lord President of the Time Lords.

“For Gallifrey!”

A truly stunning reveal.

“For victory!”

A satisfying twist in this confusion of plot.

“For the end of time itself!”

A cliffhanger, Gary, to top all cliffhangers . . .

The Waters of Mars

Dear Gary—

The Waters of Mars is the classic Who base under siege plotline and it is arguably the best it has ever been done. The supporting cast is solid with the standout being Lindsay Duncan as Adelaide Brooke. The effects are spectacular, the monsters stellar, and the story suspenseful. This is Doctor Who firing on all cylinders.

The one who comes off badly in this is the Doctor, and that is one of the story’s many strong points.

“This is wrong, Doctor. I don’t care who you are. The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.”

For so long the Doctor had nothing but praise and adulation heaped upon him by his young companions and it was starting to go to his head. Then along came Donna to rein him in somewhat, but Donna is now gone and the Doctor is rudderless. Hurray for Adelaide Brooke for giving him that verbal slap in the face sorely missing now that Donna is no longer with him; and hurray for The Waters of Mars for daring to expose the Doctor in this way.

The Doctor arrives on Mars alone and space-suited up, presumably to explore. This brings up two minor points, one being why so few of the planets the Doctor visits requires the use of a space suit. The other being, what exactly is he hoping to find on this barren and deserted planet? Surely there are more interesting places for him to go, and from his reaction he wasn’t expecting to find a space station. However these are two extremely minor points. Overall these two things make for some stunning visuals; and in a way it is appropriate that the Doctor is making his lonely way through the universe on some seemingly mundane journeys to kick a few Mars rocks around. Certainly the Doctor has never looked more isolated than in the opening shots of him stepping out onto the surface of the red planet.

He is not alone for long, however. He soon conveniently stumbles across the first Martian pioneers of Bowie Base One. Even more coincidentally, it happens to be the exact fateful date of Bowie Base One’s destruction.

The Doctor hears the date, November 21, 2059, and is immediately thrown into a quandary. Apparently this is one of those rare fixed moments in time that the Doctor is always rattling on about. “What happens here must always happen.” The Doctor knows he cannot interfere, and yet his curiosity gets the better of him. He can’t help himself.

Now everything hinges on this vital moment and it is a compelling scenario; however this fixed point linchpin is the weakest link in the tale. The history books relate the mysterious destruction of Bowie Base One and the death of its crew, in particular Adelaide Brooke. The Doctor even goes so far as to say that a Dalek, upon encountering the young Adelaide, let her live because he too recognized the momentous personage before him and the fixed point nature of her future (regardless that the Dalek at the time did not foresee a future for anyone or anything). It seems that Adelaide’s tragic end on this date of November 21, 2059 is the inspiration for her granddaughter to explore the stars.

 “Susie Fontana Brooke is the pilot of the first lightspeed ship to Proxima Centaur,” the Doctor relates. “And then everywhere, with her children and her children’s children forging the way.” I’m sorry, but how does this qualify for fixed point status? A momentous moment in the Brooke family, yes. A momentous moment in human history though? I don’t think so. Clearly the technology and resources and will exists at that future date making it possible for Susie Fontana Booke to pilot the way, so if she doesn’t take the wheel someone else will. Humankind will still leapfrog its way across the universe, just with someone else at the helm. And too, the Doctor even says it himself: “Captain Adelaide can inspire her face to face. Different details, but the story’s the same.”

I think the Doctor’s fixed point barometer is a bit off; or he is making the whole thing up.

The story is compelling enough, however, and consequently I will suspend my disbelief; at least in so far as to accept the notion that the Doctor truly believes this is a fixed moment. The Waters of Mars is really the story of Adelaide Brooke, “the woman with starlight in her soul;” and this is most definitely a deciding moment in her life. The Doctor has obviously built the woman up in his mind; she is something of a hero to him; he even breaks his code to give her a salute. I can therefore certainly believe that he has blown this moment up out of all proportion to history. This is in keeping with the Doctor-centric, Time Lord Victorious nature of the tale.

With this notion firmly implanted in the Doctor’s mind he is on a collision course with his Time Lord code and is dangerously close to joining the ranks of such fallen Time Lords as the Meddling Monk, Omega, Borusa, Morbius, and the Master. Except Adelaide Brooke steps in to stop the Doctor in his tracks; and perhaps that is the true nature of her fixed point status. It is not to inspire her granddaughter as the Doctor supposes; it is to save the Doctor from himself.

The scene of the Doctor walking away from the base with the dramatic sounds of death and destruction in his ears is one of the most moving and memorable of the new era. The Doctor is walking away because he must, or he believes he must. But then something snaps and it seems that the whole show has been building towards this moment ever since Rose. With a resounding, “I’m the last of the Time Lords,” the Doctor returns in all his glory to save the day.

In and of itself this is a noble act. The Doctor saving the day is what he does; it is what he is about. However it is not the act that is in question but rather the Doctor’s motivation: “It’s taken me all these years to realize the Laws of Time are mine, and they will obey me!” This is not an act of mercy; this is an act of megalomania.

Adelaide Brooke sees this with immense clarity. She doesn’t want to die. She argued against the Doctor when he first told her of her fate and did everything in her power to prevent it. But now as the Doctor offers his helping hand she sees the truth. “The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.” And she stops him in the way that only she can. None of the “little people” could influence the Doctor, the Time Lord Victorious. Only Adelaide Brooke, the fixed point, momentous Adelaide Brooke. Not to inspire her granddaughter; frankly a grandmother who commits suicide is not inspiring. No. To stop the Doctor. “No one should have that power.” The power of life and death; the power to change history. “The Time Lord Victorious is wrong.” In his moment of triumph Adelaide deflates the Doctor's power.

There is so much in this story that I have not touched on. The humor, the relationship between the Doctor and Adelaide, the nod to the Ice Warriors, the terrifying transformation into water monsters, the overall production value, the chases, the tense race to abandon ship, “one drop; just one drop.” It’s a great story that is well executed. But the Time Lord Victorious eclipses it all. The Tenth Doctor is coming to an end. “I’ve gone too far,” he says as he realizes what he has done.

Since the new series began it has been building the Doctor up into this incarnation, this Time Lord Victorious. Now is the time for his deconstruction.

 At least in this moment, Gary; this one fixed moment . . .

Planet of the Dead

Dear Gary—

Planet of the Dead is pretty dry (much like the desert the bus ends up in), but it is a standalone episode which is a plus in my book and it is pleasant enough.

The Doctor is again on his own in this adventure, and although he clearly is not ready to take on a permanent companion (thankfully turning down Lady Christina de Souza), he does not shun the company of others. In fact he goes out of his way to interact; when he first gets on the bus there are plenty of empty seats to choose from but he deliberately sits next to Lady Christina and starts a conversation.  This is very reminiscent of Midnight, a sort of Midnight Lite if you will. The Doctor even refers back to that earlier episode (“Oh, humans on buses, always blaming me.”)

The passengers on the Mighty 200 are not as well drawn, however. Not even the mysterious Carmen with undefined psychic abilities. Her only function is to echo the Ood with her parting, “Your song is ending sir.” None of them provide any practical value to the adventure at hand with the exception of Christina. And she is my least favorite of the lot.

The Lady Christina de Souza is a bored rich girl who rips off museums for kicks. There’s not much redeeming about her. She is ready with a shovel and a winch when you need one, granted; but she has no warmth or depth or feeling. She is all sleek and sophisticated surface personality.

Malcolm on the other side of the wormhole provides some much needed humanity as well as comic relief. He is a bit too gushing at times, but overall a welcome presence. I especially love the “Not now, I’m busy” phone bit. Captain Erisa Magambo is a nice counter balance to Malcolm, although I’m not sure what to make of their standoff. It doesn’t quite work for me.

And as long as I’ve mentioned Captain Magambo, what’s up with the Doctor’s objection to salutes? Someday I’ll have to go back and review each instance of saluting in the new era. He seems inconsistent in his ‘no salute’ policy, if not hypocritical. A salute between friends seems nothing to him (I’m not even going to get into the bowing-down-before-him attitude his companions often take); I think it has more to do with his prejudice against authority figures. (Same with guns by the way.)

The story itself is standard fare. The bus the Doctor has boarded is whisked through a wormhole onto another planet and he has to figure out how to get them all back safe and sound without letting anything else through. Along the way he meets some disposable fly aliens who supply some much needed information before their demise.

There isn’t much more to it. The metal stingrays are mildly interesting like everything else in the episode, but very little time or effort is put into them. On the whole it is an insubstantial story. But a diverting enough way to spend an hour. It has some good moments, like the Doctor calming his fellow travelers by grounding them in their day to day lives. And it’s a nice touch when he recommends Nathan and Barclay to Magambo even though he really doesn’t know very much about either; but I can’t help wishing that Detective Inspector McMillan would catch up with Lady de Souza.

Overall, Gary, Planet of the Dead is very much the Doctor just biding his time; a field trip while he waits for his song to end.

“He will knock four times . . .”

The Next Doctor

Dear Gary—

Doctor Who has a long way to go to get back into my good graces after Journey’s End. The Next Doctor is a good start.

This is an episode that can stand on its own. It doesn’t have to be seen in any particular order or in conjunction with any other story or within the context of a season long arc. It is lighthearted in tone with just the right amount of pathos. And it doesn’t try to replace Donna. If anything, the Doctor himself becomes a companion of sorts.

Plus it takes place at Christmas and it happens to be the Christmas season as I view this, so I am full of that spirit that is so willing to forgive.

David Morrissey also helps. He plays the part of the Next Doctor with the perfect flamboyant flourish and yet there is a hint of sorrow that manages to peak through. When the Jackson Lake damn breaks, the flood of pain that washes over him is heartbreakingly real. Rosita is a great caricature of a companion, too.  “Always telling me off,” the Next Doctor says of her, to which the Doctor replies, “Well, they do, don’t they?” Strong of will and quick with a punch, Rosita tends to look after the Next Doctor more than the other way around.

The Doctor, the Next Doctor/Jackson Lake, and Rosita make a wonderful trio and the touches of slapstick are welcome. I love the glaring clues that the Next Doctor is not in fact The Doctor, from his sonic screwdriver (“It makes a noise; that’s sonic, isn’t it?”) to his TARDIS (“It stands for Tethered Aerial Release Developed in Style. Do you see?”). Even the Cybershades, which under normal circumstances are laughable, seem to reflect the charming nature of this playacting at the Doctor motif.

The sets, the costumes, the wide-eyed and grimy orphans in peril—everything lends a Dickensian air to this Christmastime tale.

The jarring note comes courtesy of the Cybermen.

Despite the fact that the Cybermen are scarier on a practical level in their New Who reboot, they always tend to come up short for me and I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps someday I will take the time to analyze it more. For now I’ll remark on the comic book element that somehow creeps in each time I see them in the modern era. In this story we have the Cybershades and the Cyberleader with his plastic brain showing. Then there is the unwieldy Cyberking. I keep hoping that the Next Doctor will go all The Empire Strikes Back on it and trip it up with his lasso.

On a more philosophical level, I wonder if their origin story from their first appearance in New Who, Rise of the Cybermen, blunts their menace for me. These new, human Cybermen from a parallel universe are the creation of one man in his mad attempt to live life eternal; not a race that willingly underwent the conversion for their own survival. New Who Cybermen are motivated by the programmed instructions of John Lumic to convert all of Mankind; Classic Cybermen are motivated by the survival of the Mondasian race. Every meeting of the Doctor with the Cybermen in this new era has been with these new fangled Cybermen. I wonder what would happen if these New Who human Cybermen from a parallel universe ever met up with a group of Classic Cybermen hailing from Mondas.

Putting that aside, however . . .

Cybermen crashing through the cobbled streets of 1851 London just doesn’t rhyme (as my father would say). For the most part they are kept under wraps, but there is only so much sewer and cellar skulking they can do. Sooner or later they have to come up to do their dirty work and I’m not sure how these giant metal men stealth their way through the city without notice. And of course when the Cyberking rises there is no hiding it. I guess this is one chapter of history that was never recorded.

The collaboration of Miss Hartigan does help a little bit in accepting the secretive operations of these clinking, clanking, clattering collections of caliginous junk. (Oh what a wonderful Wiz he is.) In fact Miss Hartigan, clad in her red dress complete with parasol, is an excellent intermediary between the fictions of Dickens and Cyber Who. Taking the arm of one of her knights in shining armor, she is picture perfect.

Like the Next Doctor, Miss Hartigan has hints of tragedy lurking beneath the surface. However in her case we never learn her background and we can only speculate when she states, “Yet another man come to assert himself against me in the night.”  She is a remarkable woman, or so we are told. The Doctor tells her, “You might have the most remarkable mind this world has ever seen.” I don’t know, though. This is narrative convenience that weakens her as well as the Cybermen.

The justification for the Doctor’s statement is the fact that she can resist the Cyber conversion and dominate the Cyber brain. Now if she is this most unique of individuals, how is it that she never did anything with her life up to this point? It rather makes her pathetic more than anything. And what does this make of the Cyber threat? Now that I think of it, Miss Hartigan is not the only instance of a personality surviving the Cyber conversion process. First to mind is Yvonne Hartman from Doomsday. I think the Cybermen seriously need to refine their procedures.

Having said all of that, the Doctor’s use of the Next Doctor’s TARDIS to confront Miss Cyberking Hartigan is fantastic, and I can forgive the all too handy zapper by virtue of this from Jackson Lake: “Well, I’d say he used that Dimension Vault to transfer the wreckage of the Cyberking into the Time Vortex, there to be harmlessly disintegrated. Oh, I’ve picked up a lot.”

The best, though, is saved for last. “But this is nonsense.” Jackson’s reaction to the TARDIS is one of absolute wonder and amazement, that childlike glee of a Christmas morning. “Complete and utter, wonderful nonsense. How very, very silly.” It is that pure innocence of emotion that inevitably gets corrupted with the passage of time, and I’m glad that Jackson races from the TARDIS before the dark world of the Doctor has a chance to infect him.

Overall I give a Peace on Earth pass to this wonderful little Christmas package of an episode. I think it is exactly what the Doctor needed as well. All of the companions lined up in Journey’s End have gone their own way. The Doctor is alone. Being able to jump into an adventure as a sidekick and to observe the Doctor/companion relationship through this somewhat warped mirror has given him a new perspective.

“They leave,” he tells Jackson of “all those bright and shining companions.”

“Because they should,” he continues. “Or they find someone else. And some of them, some of them forget me. I suppose in the end, they break my heart.”

He hasn’t fully come to terms yet, but it is the start of a lonely journey he must make.

However there is room for hope in this journey as the Doctor heads off to spend Christmas dinner with Jackson and Rosita.

And so I send this out, Gary. “Merry Christmas indeed.”