The Pilot

Dear Gary—

The Pilot is . . . it just is. It’s bland. It’s vanilla. It’s . . . a show. That’s about all really.

Oh, it does introduce the Doctor’s new companion—Bill. I rather like Bill. She’s very to the point and asks the questions that makes us all say, ‘Oh yeah, why didn’t I ever think of that?’ For example: “If you’re from another planet, why would you name your box in English? Those initials wouldn’t work in any other language.” Except Bill obviously hasn’t watched from the beginning because in the first story Susan claims to have named the TARDIS and presumably she did so while going to Cole Hill School and therefore very well could have used the English language. Or perhaps the TARDIS is translating its name. Perhaps when the Doctor says ‘TARDIS’ he really isn’t saying ‘TARDIS’ at all. (Perhaps he is saying ‘SIDRAT.’)

But I don’t see why the Doctor singles Bill out from all the hundreds of students he sees day in and day out. Other than he’s bored and wants company and she’ll do as well as anyone. I don’t feel much chemistry between the two. Although I find it very sweet for the Doctor to pop back in time to take photos of Bill’s dead mother as a Christmas present for Bill, even if this seems out of character for the Doctor. If Bill continues to elicit this tender side of the Doctor this could develop into a nice companionship—similar to the first Doctor with Susan or Vicki.

The Doctor is bored, by the way, because he has exiled himself to Earth. Now, he has absolutely no reason to artificially constrain himself to our planet because he has tethered himself here since the start of New Who. But the show apparently saw a need to come up with some excuse for keeping him here and so it invented this ‘vault’ that the Doctor is guarding.

Of course, Gary, the vault is housing Missy. I know that for a certainty even without the benefit of hindsight. There is no one or nothing else that could possibly be in that big, bad, scary vault that the Doctor and Nardole (whom the Doctor employs as a nag) are keeping vigil over. For some reason the show decides to keep the contents a mystery as if the audience will really wonder and ponder and scratch their collective heads and debate and anticipate.

And again of course, the Doctor has chosen Earth as this prison’s location because he is irresponsible in the extreme. He doesn’t go to some abandoned planet where Missy could do no harm if she were to escape. No. He takes her to Earth, the one planet that Missy has attempted to destroy/conquer/rule/dominate countless times since Missy was Roger Delgado. And he plunks her down in the middle of a university where he has somehow wrangled a job as a professor who lectures on random topics and who has free run of the campus with no hint of any pesky deans or fellow professors or janitors or anyone with any kind of authority or purpose.

But that’s the theme, really, of The Pilot. It’s devoid of authority or purpose. It’s random.

Like the ‘villain’ of the piece. It’s a blotch of space oil left over from an unidentified spacecraft that apparently landed in the middle of the school grounds with no one noticing. Magical space oil with magical properties that seemingly has hung around for years waiting for just the right restless student, out of a pool of thousands of restless students, to come along with a star in her eye to find the puddle intriguing, and then it (the magical puddle) waits around some more before magically devouring her (the starry-eyed, restless student) and changing her into a magical being who can go anywhere and who can go to any time (she doesn’t need a blue box) and who can form into any shape. And oh yeah, who has a crush on Bill (even though they have said barely two words to each other) and who decides to stalk her.

That is the problem with New Who. It is magic. It is anything it wants to be. It does anything it wants to do. Just because it can. No rules. No form. No structure. No logic. Just because. Just because it can. It is a show. Just a show. It just . . . is.

Anything that is Doctor Who has been slowly bleeding from the show for years. What is left is a magical space blotch with no rules or form or structure or logic.

And oh, Gary, magic bores me.

The Return of Doctor Mysterio

Dear Gary—

 

The Return of Doctor Mysterio is some comic-book-lite fun. It is pleasurable and forgettable. It is kick back and relax and enjoy for the moment and then move on amusement. It is turn your brain off entertainment that does not keep on giving. (I won't bring up the fact that the TARDIS has landed in New York and wasn't there something about the TARDIS never being able to land in New York again or it would tear open the space/time continuum or some such nonsense and therefore he can never go back for Amy and Rory?)

With broad strokes it paints a Clark Kent/Superman/Lois Lane knock off for no particular reason other than it can. It can do so courtesy of the Doctor and his conveniently magical and rare gemstone that he for some inexplicable reason hands to a child. A child who is sick and who somehow manages to swallow this valuable jewel thinking it to be medicine and who is therefore imbued with all sorts of miraculous powers as the precious stone feeds off of the child’s love of super heroes. 

The child grows into Grant, our mild mannered Clark Kent working as a nanny for his Lois Lane (AKA Lucy Lombard—or Fletcher as the case may be). Grant’s Superman alter ego is The Ghost. Grant has known Lucy since childhood and even set her up with his best friend, now Lucy’s ex-husband and father to her infant daughter Jennifer to whom he (Grant) is now nanny. Grant continues to call Lucy Mrs. Lombard despite their lifelong acquaintance and her resumption of her maiden name of Fletcher. Grant’s disguise, similar to Clark Kent’s, is a pair of glasses. Lucy never catches on to Grant’s alter ego.

“There are some situations which are just too stupid to be allowed to continue.”

Except that this improbable and hackneyed scenario allows for some good old fashioned Doctor Who fun. As with most Doctor Who, the actors are agreeable and have some nice chemistry. And there are some unexpected moments that surprise, such as Mister Huffle, Lucy’s squeaky toy interrogation technique. (“This is Mister Huffle. Mister Huffle feels pain.”) The villain of the piece is not worth much—a generic corporation (Harmony Shoal—in other words, kinda sorta, Melody Pond?) of aliens with zipper heads intent on taking over the world somehow; easily defeated and easily forgotten.

The focus of the episode is the love story, and that too is mostly paint-by-numbers. Lucy’s infatuation with The Ghost slowly evaporates as it dawns on her that Super Nanny is really the man of her dreams. A nice bit of fluff to pass the time.

This is where, Gary, I tell Dad’s Superman joke.

If Lois Lane had a cat, and that cat one day walked in wearing a pair of glasses, would Lois Lane ask, “What cat is this?”

The episode successfully riffs on this comic book trope as the Doctor obtusely observes to young Grant (“Take a good long look. It takes a moment to see it.”), “Superman and Clark Kent are one and the same person.”

With moments like this, Peter Capaldi’s Doctor succeeds in lifting this trite tripe into something a little more than watchable.  The Doctor has an easy and pleasant bond with the kid, Grant. As a side note, Gary, the Doctor tends to interact well with youngsters—little Amelia and young Kazran are two good examples. It is a shame that the show has never taken advantage of this dynamic in the way of companionship beyond the Classic versions of Susan and Vicki (although neither was hardly a tot).

This rapport translates well to the adult Grant and extends to Lucy. These are affectionate acquaintances; a nice respite from the passionate ties of recent companions. Add to the mix the welcome return of Nardole.  The Doctor has rescued Nardole from out of the previous story’s Hydroflax and the reconstituted Nardole takes on the role of sidekick to the Doctor. Again, a nice respite from the intensity.

However those ardent feelings simmer throughout the episode;  the Doctor is not far removed from some harsh losses and the wounds are still raw. Lucy and Grant both pick up on the Doctor’s pain but he sidesteps their questions, as he does Nardole’s more pointed remarks. Yet the sadness seeps through and is evident throughout. Finally Mister Huffle brings out this from the Doctor: “Things end. That’s all. Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But everything begins again too, and that’s always happy.”

The Return of Doctor Mysterio is the perfect adventure for the Doctor to work through his unhappiness.  He needs to be Doctor Mysterio caught up in a fantastical comic book scenario in order to escape from reality for the moment.

And as he moves past this escapade the Doctor has Nardole to look after him. As Nardole concludes, “He’s the Doctor. He’s very brave and he’s very silly and I think, for a time, he’s going to be very sad. But I promise, in the end, he’ll be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”

Things end and things begin again, Gary. The era of Clara is over (thank goodness) and the intermittent appearances of River Song seem to be laid to rest. The Doctor now has Nardole to accompany him and a fresh face ready in the wings to provide companionship. If I didn’t have hindsight, Gary, I might be hopeful at this time.  As it is, I simply plod along, and with Reinette I say, “The path has never seemed more slow.”

The Husbands of River Song

Dear Gary—

I’m actually writing about a Christmas episode during the course of the holiday season. Not that The Husbands of River Song has much to do with Christmas. There is some snow and some carol singing to start the show and that’s about it. I do wonder why the Doctor chose to park in the middle of Christmas just to post a sign warning off carolers, but oh well (as we say in New Berlin).  What The Husbands of River Song does deliver is some unabashed silliness as a Yuletide treat.

With the first sight of the Doctor sporting felt antlers on his head the tone is set, and his admonishment of the TARDIS for the unwanted hologramatic novelty furthers the theme. The Doctor is grumpy (understandably so given recent events) and is in need of some holiday cheer. The Husbands of River Song is exactly what he (and the audience) needs.

For the most part it works, although probably more so if viewed while drinking some Christmas nog. It’s not especially memorable or notable, but it’s some well played fun; and Peter Capaldi and Alex Kingston are clearly enjoying themselves as the Doctor and River. This is the strength of the episode. The plot is incidental.

The head in a bag gag is funny with its giant angry mechanical body trailing after it. The restaurant dedicated to the murderous of the universe is interesting and the blue toady Flemming fits in perfectly. The sight of interchangeable Nardole and Ramone cyborg heads is a bit unsettling but I’ll let that pass.  The diamond lodged in Hydroflax’s brain and the ensuing sale/auction is enough of an excuse to tie all the elements together and provide an entertaining story. The Doctor and River navigating this plot is the payoff.

“I married the diamond.” River continually justifies her marriage with Hydroflax to the Doctor without knowing he is the Doctor. It is a very merry mix-up, and although I find it hard to believe that it takes so long for River to catch on, it makes for some fine comedy. The Doctor’s reactions alone are worth it. River’s free-wheeling, devil-may-care, morally ambiguous lifestyle is on full display here for Peter Capaldi’s disapproving Doctor to see, yet he is caught up in the fun despite himself.

The Doctor is clearly disappointed in River (“Because they cross; I’ve got cross arms”) yet he is also clearly enjoying the adventure. “I can’t approve of any of this, you know,” he tells River, “but I haven’t laughed in a long time.” Indeed, the sight of the Doctor laughing as he gets unceremoniously dumped into the snow is a delight. Equally amusing is the Doctor making a proper show of the “it’s bigger on the inside” shtick. And the talking head in a bag (“We’re being threatened by a bag! By a head in a bag!”) adds the perfect touch of absurdity to the proceedings.

The shift towards the emotional also works thanks to the Doctor and River. River’s speeches about unrequited love are obviously scripted. “You don’t expect a sunset to admire you back,” is a lovely sentiment but it just doesn’t flow naturally. The feelings behind the words, however, are pure, and Alex Kingston conveys them best in the quiet moments. The discussion about River’s diary is especially effective.

The Doctor: “Is it sad?”

River: “Why would a diary be sad?”

The heartbreak in River’s eyes is obvious even for the Doctor to see.

The use of the diary does get a bit heavy handed, particularly as Flemming pages through it for the entertainment of the devout diners, but it is a great call back and beautifully brings the Doctor’s and River’s relationship full circle. What was started in Silence in the Library has been a long and sometimes bumpy road, but it is impressive how it has navigated across the years and through the change of Doctors with its confusing timelines and has stayed relatively true to itself. And once again, much credit to Alex Kingston. She has played expertly off each actor, subtly adapting to every change in the Doctor’s persona, yet remaining constant in her love for the man within. I have not always enjoyed the River story, but I have always enjoyed Alex Kingston.

I have to say, Gary, that the relationship between River and this twelfth Doctor is the most impressive. Her time with the tenth was too short and unexplored. Her time with the eleventh often seemed awkward and forced. With Peter Capaldi, however, the two can meet on mature and level ground and as a result this parting of the ways is that much more effective.

“Times end, River, because they have to.” At last the Doctor has learned this lesson (one companion too late). Gone are the wailings and flailings; gone are the histrionics; gone are the wrong-headed and stubborn refusal of the inevitable. What remains is the quiet and tender goodbye to lives long loved and lived.

River understandably hesitates: “I want you to know that if this is the last night, I expect you to find a way round it.” However the Doctor gently reminds her, “Every night is the last night for something.”  The Doctor has been putting off this fated night, time after time cancelling their inexorable date at the Singing Towers of Darillium. But the towers and Darillium have finally crashed into his and River’s timeline, and in his best Doctor way he takes the glaring facts as presented to him and arranges them to perfection. With a suggestion here, a diamond there, and a TARDIS leap or two he orchestrates the entire evening.

And again in best Doctor Who fashion: “How long is a night on Darillium?” – “Twenty four years.”

River understands—“Happy ever after doesn’t mean forever. It just means time. A little time.” The Doctor has given her time; he has given her happy ever after.

For all of the contrived happily ever afters that New Who has foisted upon us, this is the only one that rewards. One could easily flow from The Husbands of River Song to the Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead pairing and see the full arc of this romance fulfilled.

“And they both lived . . .”

Here’s hoping, Gary; “happily. . .”