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.

Nightmare in Silver

Dear Gary—

It’s just so wrong. Nightmare in Silver is wrong. And it could be so right. The elements are in place but they are not utilized. Everything is shortcut and convenient and obvious. It is lazy and shoddy. I am speaking about New Who in general, with Nightmare in Silver being my focus for this troubling pattern.

Let’s start with location. At long last we are on an alien planet. As Doctor number nine would say: “Fantastic.” Not just an alien planet, but an alien planet with “the biggest and best amusement park there will ever be.” Only to quickly learn that the park is out of business and abandoned. That’s OK, though. Abandoned amusement parks are rife with all kinds of possibilities. Then Webley shows up and leads us to “Webley’s World of Wonders. Miracles, marvels, and more await you.” This, too, makes the imagination reel. However, not one spark of creativity emerges from this wonderland of opportunity.

My mind wanders back, Gary, to two subpar Doctor Who stories from the Classic years. The first is The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.  This fails on many levels, but at least it exploits the circus element to full extent. Next I think of one of my least favorite episodes of all time, the deadly dull and boring The Web Planet with its bouncy castle web of intrigue. At least that serial had some originality, even if it did fall flat for the most part. But I think I would rather bounce around with Vicki in that stagnant story than spend the oh so brief moments of Spacy Zoomer microgravity with Angie and Artie.

Angie and Artie. It is easy to blame the failure of Nightmare in Silver on Angie and Artie. More so Angie. Artie is OK in a generic kid kind of way. Angie, on the other hand, is obnoxious and irritating, in a generic kid kind of way. Capital Generic, capital Kid. Two more convenient and shortcut characters are not to be found than Angie and Artie. They are the cardboard cutout charges of Clara, for whom she clearly has no affection and in whom she clearly has no interest, and vice versa. Angie rivals Peri in the high maintenance category. At least Peri took an occasional interest in the marvels of the universe the Doctor showed her.

No matter how generic or irritating, Angie and Artie are Clara’s responsibility, and she (and the Doctor) show the highest irresponsibility in nonchalantly whisking these two minors off into the most dangerous of situations for no good or clearly defined reason. The previous story ended with the two brats blackmailing Clara with pictures of her in impossibly historic settings. So what? (I won’t get started in on the whole ‘the Doctor is erased from history but pictures of him exist on the internet for any child to find when it is most convenient’ rant.) What has she to lose? Her standing as a nanny? What even does she have to explain? That she has look-alikes, possibly ancestors, who once lived and had photographs taken of themselves? Neither she nor the Doctor has anything to fear from these children or from the random photos found on the worldwide web. So why exactly do they cave and take the ungrateful little monsters anywhere, much less into danger?

Which leads me to a Rory reminiscence. I don’t remember the story and don’t care enough to research it, but at one point Rory condemns the Doctor with a ‘why don’t you read your history books’ accusation when the Doctor leads Amy and Rory into a dangerous situation of the future. So why didn’t the Doctor learn his lesson and look before he leaped onto this planet that he promised would be nothing but fun but turns out to be nothing but danger? Especially with two kids in tow (even if they are obnoxious brats). As soon as he sensed something amiss he should have taken the two out of harm’s way. He has a time and space machine; he has the TARDIS; he could have dropped them safely home and returned in time to save the day. At the very least he could have deposited them in the TARDIS to ride it out. But no, he places them in a stranger’s hands (Webley’s) and tells them, “don’t wander off.” As if that’s an option.

Webley and the kids are sacrificial lambs on the altar of New Who. They serve no purpose other than to give the Doctor something to fight for. Webley in particular is disposable; nobody cares about poor half-cyborg-converted Webley once his job of luring the kids is done. Poor wibley wobley Webely. He could have been so much more.

But the true creativity killer in Nightmare in Silver is the titular monster of the piece. These Cybermen are supposedly a mash-up of the Classic and the New Who races, Mondasian and Lumician. What they are really is a totally new and impossibly powerful creature that only resembles Cybermen in outward appearance. These Cybermen can do anything; overcome any difficulty; counteract any weapon. They simply “upgrade” themselves by the magic power of the author’s pen.

This is the same problem that I find with the Weeping Angels in The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone. An omnipotent, omniscient foe that can do anything on the writer’s whim isn’t scary. It’s boring. The only options open to our protagonists are to die, run away, and/or wait for the miracle lurking in the script to save them.

In Nightmare in Silver the answer is laughably inexcusable. Throughout the story the Doctor and Clara run around telling everyone, ‘don’t blow up the planet, don’t blow up the planet, whatever you do don’t blow up the planet,’ until the last minute when they change their minds and: ‘uh oh, better blow up the planet.’ But darn the luck, the only person who can voice activate the bomb is dead and the remote control device is destroyed. Wait a minute—Porridge was the Emperor all along! He can save the day. All he has to do is click his heels three times. And just when you think the Doctor and Clara and the Emperor and the odd lot troops will be blown up along with the army of Cybermen, a magic transport system teleports them all off planet and safely into the Emperor’s throne room, even allowing enough time for the Doctor to make a special request for the deliverance of his TARDIS. Voila. One stroke of the mighty pen and it’s all over.

So why didn’t they do that to start with and save all of the trouble and the deaths? It was so simple and effective. But then we wouldn’t have an excuse for the Doctor and Clara to do what they do best, which is to be Matt Smith and Jenna-Louise Coleman.

As far as I can see, this entire story is an excuse to let Matt Smith uncork a rollicking performance as the Cyber-Planner/Doctor split personality. This is indeed an entertaining shtick that almost makes the uselessness of the narrative worthwhile, and I might not complain at all if half of the dueling ego wasn’t supposedly a Cyberman. The one element that truly makes the Cybermen scary is that they have eliminated all emotion. Yet the Cyber-Planner half of the Doctor is brimming with charismatic individuality. The best way to tell when C-P has control vs. the Doctor is when he is the most vibrant. “I could call myself Mister Clever,” he gloats, and then adds most uncharacteristically for a Cyberman, “Oh this is just dreamy.” His attempted seduction of Clara is another give-away that this is no Cyberman, and again only an excuse to let the Doctor deliver this line to Clara: “You’re too short and bossy, and your nose is all funny.” It’s an amusing skit inserted into the framework of a makeshift plot.

Jenna-Louise Coleman, too, is enjoyable to watch as she plays at being Clara. Her brave and resourceful and take-charge personality is delivered expertly and I almost forget what a negligent nanny she is. That’s it, though. She has this job on paper, it says so in the script, but it isn’t developed any further than that. There is no feeling behind it. She could just as easily be a waitress or a doctor or an executive. The kids are merely a McGuffin. This lack of depth is enhanced when the Emperor proposes to her at the end of the day. He throws a few shy glances her way during the course of the tale, but they have no meaningful interactions that would lead one to believe that he has fallen in love with her. Her rejection and his acceptance of her rejection are devoid of any real sentiment.  

It is ironic that in a story about Cybermen it is the Cybermen who exhibit the most emotion. It is also indicative of this trend of the show to make things up as it goes along; to make things up and then to forget them when convenient; to make things up and then to ignore them; to make things up and then reinvent them. There is no consistency. And so the Doctor can erase himself from history but two school kids can find pictures of him on the internet.

It is lazy and it is shoddy. And ultimately it is boring when you know that the show can do anything it wants with no restraint.

Matt Smith and Jenna Coleman keep me on this slow path, Gary. It is certainly not this Probable Girl “mystery wrapped in an enigma squeezed into a skirt that’s just a little bit too tight,” of an arc.

The Crimson Horror

Dear Gary—

Madame Vastra, Jenny, and Strax are becoming semi-regulars lately; that’s fine with me because they are always entertaining and The Crimson Horror is a fun 45 minutes. It is curious that the Doctor and Clara would travel to 1893 and not visit the trio; and it is extremely coincidental that the brother of one of Mrs. Gillyflower’s victims would first think to take a photograph of his dead brother’s eye, next have it capture the image of the Doctor, and finally take this optogram to Vastra. But then we wouldn’t have a story without the happenstance.

The first third of the tale is taken up by our out-of-this-world detectives, with Vastra taking firm command, Strax providing comic relief, and Jenny assuming the bulk of the action as she infiltrates Mrs. Gillyflower’s utopian community of Sweetville. It is a quaint little Victorian mystery in the making. When Jenny finds a red-encrusted Doctor chained up behind a locked door in the match factory things take an interesting turn.

The flashback sequence detailing how the Doctor and Clara came to be at Sweetville is inventive and amusing.  (“Brave heart”—gotta love it!) The process of returning the Doctor to flesh and blood is glossed over but forgivable, and it is always welcome to have Matt Smith back and unencumbered. Keeping the back half from devolving into trite sci fi fare are Diana Rigg and more especially her daughter Rachael Stirling as fictional mother and daughter Mrs. Gillyflower and Ada. These two lend depth and humanity to the narrative.

Mrs. Gillyflower would be a typical shrieking, cackling villainess if it were not for Ada. The cold-hearted calculation of a mother willing to sacrifice her only child for her own glory and ambition is chilling, and the wrath of Ada when she discovers her mother’s duplicity is gripping. Even the Doctor is taken aback at Ada’s ferocity.

As usual, it is the acting that sells the story and the humor that saves it. Stripped bare of these it is a humdrum mash up of genres and clichés. Bodies found floating in the canal; fire and brimstone preachers; mysterious walled compounds where people enter and never leave; alien creatures masterminding humanity’s downfall; rockets ready to rain down destruction upon all.

And as usual, Gary, it is the acting and humor I have to hold on to; skimming the surface rather than diving too deep. Because when I start thinking . . .

 “Oh great. Great. Attack of the super models.” Your standard issue generic minions of your comic book super villain. Your shorthand short cut that I suppose given time constraints is understandable, but I start to wonder why these non-people are serving Mrs. Gillyflower and whatever becomes of them in the end. They’re not important; they’re backdrop. But oh what at least one good Packer quality sidekick could do for this story.

These nonentities only start me thinking about the more important background characters who are overlooked—the victims. The red bodies in the canal and Effie and Edmund to start us out are one thing, but what of all of those preserved under glass? I see that the Doctor goes to great lengths to restore Clara, but what about the guy she was sharing a jar with? He’s unimportant, nameless, and above all unknown to the Doctor. Why bother saving him? Much less the countless others pickled and preserved by Mrs. Gillyflower. Lately the Doctor doesn’t have much interest in rescuing anyone unless they are near and dear to him.

This now leads me to Clara. Clara under glass. Pickled and preserved Clara. Picture perfect Clara. She is a bit of a super model herself. A generic companion. Jenna-Louise Coleman has done wonders in breathing life into the character, but when you start mining below the acting and the humor there isn’t much there. I still have no real handle on Clara. Why is she traveling with the Doctor?

The Tegan reference from earlier really starts me thinking. Tegan wandered on board the TARDIS and this “gobby Australian” spent much of her time haranguing the Doctor to get her back to Heathrow. It was only after long journeys that she finally decided she wouldn’t mind tagging along with the Doctor after all; and in the end it became too much for her to stomach and she left. Many other companions were either hijacked or stranded and had no choice but to travel with the Doctor. Some, like Jo, spent much of their time with him on Earth and only went along on space adventures with some reluctance. Then there is Peri who demanded a guided tour of the universe and complained of boredom the entire time.

Next we get into the modern era and a string of giddy females with overactive libidos, Donna being the exception. Clara has a hint of the puppy dog eyes but not overly so; not enough to warrant her trailing after the Doctor. She is brave and spunky and craves adventure, yet she doesn’t particularly strike me as a daredevil; at least not of the gritty, hard core nature required to participate in some of the Doctor’s exploits; and not on the casual, ‘see you next Wednesday’ level.

Clara is a character under glass. She is let out each episode to deliver her lines, some of which are quite good, and to come up with ideas, some of which are quite good, and to interact with the Doctor, but then she is bottled up again in wait for the next adventure. She has no true independent identity. The production team really lucked out in the actress they chose to portray this probable girl.

My final thoughts are saved for Ada and the Doctor. Ada is played for sympathy. Poor blind Ada, experimented on and lied to by her mother. Lonely Ada who befriends her ‘Monster,’ the Doctor. Righteously indignant Ada who shows no mercy to her mother and takes vengeance on Mr. Sweet. The Doctor takes a fond farewell of the newly freed Ada as she declares, “It’s time I stepped out of the darkness and into the light.”

The thing is, she was in the darkness. She was complicit in her mother’s schemes. She aided and abetted in the kidnappings and poisonings. She dumped the dead and rejected bodies into the canal. She only took pity on the ‘monster’ Doctor and chained him in a room and kept him as her pet. It was only after her mother told her there was no room for her in Paradise and after she learned it was her mother and not her father who disfigured her that she turned her back on the Gillyflower plan.

But the Doctor has taken a shine to her, and true to this disturbing new trend of the Doctor’s, anyone he likes is absolved of all manner of atrocities (Liz Ten anyone?).

Finally we have the tacked on ending in which Clara's two charges have discovered historical photos of her and the Doctor. Now I have to wonder how it is that the Daleks and Cybermen and the like continue to remark that the Doctor is erased from history when two Earthling school kids can find photos of him on the internet. I don't want to get too much more into this . . . please don't get me started.

I really do like this episode, Gary, as long as I stick to the superficial. After all, that does seem to be the way of New Who . . .

I wonder, Gary, if you would have remained a fan; and I wonder if you would even take any note of these latest entries of mine . . .

But I trudge on, ever in hope as that long ago Doctor we both fell in love with would . . .

 

 

Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS

Dear Gary—

I hate cheat stories. Doctor Who has flirted with these before. Last of the Time Lords comes readily to mind, but at least that previous story has some entertainment value. I can’t say the same for Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS. I do not want to spend any more time with the Van Baalen brothers than I have to, and as it turns out, I didn’t have to spend any time with them. However I am forced to sit through these meaningless 45 minutes. The Doctor and Clara can undo their time spent with this deplorable salvage team, but not the audience. Journey continues to exist as an episode even though the events never happened. No matter how much they try to cute it up with the “Big Friendly Button” it remains an unpalatable cheat.

To begin, the Doctor lets the TARDIS’ defenses down and the Van Baalen brothers drag it on board their own ship. The indestructible TARDIS is suddenly vulnerable and dying. The Doctor has somehow been thrown clear of the wreckage while Clara remains inside and trapped. Now the Doctor does something uncharacteristic: he forces the brothers to accompany him into the TARDIS. He really doesn’t need them to find Clara; he is just letting trouble in; and that is exactly what he gets. Once inside, the Doctor doesn’t even keep a very good eye on this team of scavengers.

Gregor is the worst of the trio, his brother Bram isn’t much better. Tricky is merely pathetic. No one comments much when the Doctor’s coercion gets Bram killed, and I certainly don’t mourn his loss, temporary as it is. The reveal of the cruel joke Gregor and Bram have been playing on Tricky serves to solidify the reprehensible nature of these siblings, and not for one minute do I buy the half-hearted repentance of Gregor. Gregor knows he is despicable and the Doctor telling him he is despicable isn’t going to change anything. The actor isn’t convinced either, his too little too late “maybe I’ve just got a little tiny scrap if decency” is delivered with all of the conviction of a guy reading a line of dialogue off the page. And that “little tiny scrap of decency” only goes so far as to stop Bram from sending Tricky off for some food; it doesn’t progress to telling Tricky he is really a human being, their brother no less, and not an android as they have somehow managed to convince him he is.

This unnecessary and unpleasant plot is filler in an episode that is designed simply as an excuse to explore the TARDIS and to delve more into the mystery of Clara. It doesn’t even try to disguise the fact, what with its “Big Friendly Button” cheat. And what do we get for this? Lots of running down dark corridors, a glimpse of the swimming pool, an admittedly impressive library, a look at the Architectural Reconfiguration System of the TARDIS, a trip through the Eye of Harmony, and a cliff hanging confrontation. We might as well just had a guided tour of the TARDIS and been done with it.

Oh, well I guess then we wouldn’t have the confrontation on the cliff. But all we learn there is exactly what Emma Grayling told the Doctor in Hide—that Clara is a perfectly ordinary girl. If there is mystery surrounding her she has no part in or knowledge of it. (At this point I am beginning to wonder why Clara is aboard at all. I like Clara; she is cute and brave and clever and resourceful like all good companions should be. However I get no good sense of purpose or motivation from her. She has no real identity apart from the Doctor and the TARDIS. She feels like a character that is being forced to fit the mystery arc and isn’t being allowed to live and breathe on her own.)

I suppose we also wouldn’t have Clara finding the History of the Time War and stumbling upon the Doctor’s name. But I for one can do without that. Please spare me this Rumpelstiltskin story line. At any rate, she promptly forgets all she learned once the Doctor hits his handy reset button.

“Secrets protect us,” the Doctor tells Clara at one point of this pointless episode. “Secrets make us safe.” That’s probably very revealing, but all I can think when I hear it is: “Secret secrets are no fun. Secret secrets hurt someone.” Oh how I would much rather watch an episode of The Office for the tenth time before having to sit through Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS again.

“Don’t get into a spaceship with a madman. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that?” This is one time when I wish I didn’t have to get into that spaceship with this particular madman, Gary.

Hide

Dear Gary—

“This isn’t a ghost story; it’s a love story.”

As a ghost story Hide is pretty good. As a love story it is OK. In between it is decent sci fi; all in all a solid entry. Where Hide really excels, though, is in bringing these varying genres together to reveal the Doctor. It does this subtly and it doesn’t sacrifice the narrative to do so.

“Boo! Hello, I’m looking for a ghost.” It’s an amusing way for the Doctor to introduce himself into the spooky mansion owned by Professor Alec Palmer (I’m going to ignore Clara’s rather lame “Ghostbusters” reference); and like many things in Hide, it’s a lie. The Doctor’s real motive for arriving in this 1970’s haunted house is to seek out the Professor’s assistant Emma Grayling. The Doctor is hoping that the empath Emma can discern the secret of Clara. However it is not Clara who Emma exposes (“she’s a perfectly ordinary girl”) but rather the Doctor: “There’s a sliver of ice in his heart.”

Emma’s cooperation with the Doctor is guarded as they work to uncover the mystery of “the Wraith of the Lady; the Maiden in the Dark; the Witch of the Well.” Emma genuinely wants to help this Caliburn Ghast. The Professor is more intent on exorcising his own ghosts, the Doctor is excited by the phenomenon, and Clara is going along for the ride. It is Emma who takes a personal interest. “I can feel her calling out to me,” she explains. She therefore goes along with the Doctor’s schemes despite her wariness of him.

Emma senses the danger and deceit in the Doctor, keeping the audience in touch with his edginess despite the very childlike persona the Doctor puts on in this episode. Matt Smith is delightful to watch as he dives head on into the fun, finding joy in the simplest things. (“You know, I do love a toggle switch. Actually, I like the word toggle.”)But the darkness is ever lurking, as evidenced by the very different reactions of Clara and the Doctor to viewing the entire life cycle of the Earth, birth to death.

Clara, too, follows the Doctor against her better judgment. “Dare me,” she tells him when he is coaxing her to go ghost hunting with him. Making a game of it, she denies her fears to play along. There is that devilish charm that the Doctor has been accused of, leading his companions into jeopardy while they try to impress. (This is hinted at again during the Doctor’s discussion with Professor Palmer regarding survivor guilt.)

 Together Clara and the Doctor make a great team as they explore the spooky house, candlelight, flickering shadows, unexpected cold spots and all. What they do not find is a ghost.

What they do find is a time traveler named Hila Tukurian stuck in a pocket universe and crying out for help. With the aid of Emma and a blue crystal from Metebelis Three (never mind the pronunciation) the Doctor pops over into the collapsing echo of a universe and frees Hila. There are of course the usual complications and Clara has to do some heroics of her own in the TARDIS (which still seems to have an aversion towards her) to save the Doctor. It’s a thrilling bit of adventure as the Doctor runs from the creature in the misty forest, Clara argues with the TARDIS, and the trio in the mansion call forth the spirits.

Underlying it all is the love story the Doctor speaks of. The tacked on star crossed creatures feature is rather tepid (and if the he and she creatures are trapped in different universes with different time lapses, wouldn’t the she creature have died out long ago?) but the Professor/Emma relationship is beautifully told, mainly through stolen looks and gestures. The Doctor’s revelation that Hila is actually a distant ancestor of the pair is highly contrived, but on a par with most New Who coincidences.

Again, though, it is the subtext of the Doctor that really shines. Simple things, like the Doctor pulling his arm from around Clara’s shoulders as though she has girl cooties. I both love and hate this. Love it for the statement that the Doctor is not falling into the familiar Rose trap of late; hate it that it is necessary to make this statement. Wish there was no statement to make. Worry that the show is flirting with the statement and hinting at possibilities. Oh if it could have only been a cute moment without any reminiscent undertones.

You well know, Gary, that one of my main complaints against New Who is that it sacrifices adventure for the arc. If only Hide was more of the norm. Hide skillfully leads us through a thrilling ghost of a sci fi romance with subtle hints at the Clara of a mystery arc. “To you, I’m a ghost,” she tells the Doctor at one point, meaning one thing but with some powerful subtext. Or how about the Doctor telling Clara, “You are the only mystery worth solving.”Hide can be viewed as a standalone; it can also be viewed in the context of the season.  I could use more of this.

I suppose, Gary, that to you I am a ghost; I guess we are ghosts to each other; there is no mystery to solve, though. We travel on as ever in our own pocket universes . . .