WHO REVIEW: 2013-8: The Name of the Doctor

A bit of a late one this week. I’ve been busy and ill, which do not make for a good combination. What’s more, several of my friends still haven’t caught up with the episodes (you know who you are). I’ve also been taking the time to gather some opinions of this finale episode, and it’s certainly generated some discussion. Altogether, this half-season has been extremely divisive; almost every episode has polarised opinion. While several episodes have, for me, been rather below par, others have impressed me greatly. This is true for most of the fans, it seems; however, what no one seems to agree on is which episodes are the winners and which are the duffs. The only episode that seems to have come through mostly positively is Hide, without anyone taking a particularly vocal stance against it (that I’ve read, at any rate). Season finales always generate some discussion, of course, and with so much riding on it, it’s unsurprising that The Name of the Doctor has generated so much discourse. Pleasantly, most of this has been positive, with fans taking exception at certain elements but enjoying the whole.

One thing The Name of the Doctor won’t do is win over Moffat’s haters. It showcases many of the storytelling flaws that have become crept in during his time as showrunner. The long-running plot threads with unsatisfying conclusions; the inconsistent use of time travel as a sort of magic “get out of jail free” card; the fetishism of the Doctor as the central figure of the narrative. The “Moffat must go!” brigade won’t be swayed by this episode. I made the mistake of checking back on Gallifrey Base to see the opinions of the people who post there, and the incoherent screaming vitriol has made me give up on that forum for good. Of course, we all, as fans, take this show too seriously, when it is most decidedly not a serious show. However, even those fans who have felt that this latest run has been a drop in quality mostly came away from the finale with a huge grin on their faces, looking forward to the anniversary special in six months’ time.

Now, I do wonder how “normal” people took this episode. Inevitably, discussion online is limited to fans, who will view an episode so steeped in the series’ lore in a different way than the majority of the audience. The more casual fans – those of my friends and family who love the show, but don’t take it apart for discussion after every broadcast – seemed to enjoy it. My flatmate certainly did, raising many of the same points and asking the same questions as the Whoheads, and loving the retro flashbacks, despite having not seen more than a handful of classic serials. (I’m sure it was my incessant fangirlish squeeling that really made the episode for her though.) But how would an occasional viewer of Doctor Who take this episode, which was hung up not only on the series’ distant past but the events of the previous dozen or so episodes?

All I can do is view it as a fan, and, as a fan, I loved it. From that opening shot on “Gallifrey... a very long time ago…” to that blinding cliffhanger. Really, The Name of the Doctor was an extended prelude to the upcoming anniversary special, existing merely to bridge the gap between the ongoing series (and the Clara mystery) and the big birthday knees-up. There was little in the way of actual event for much of the episode, with almost all of the dialogue being exposition and explanation. Yet, if there’s one thing Moffat can do with style, it’s exposition, somehow made entertaining beyond its normal means. Take the “conference call,” a fun setup which sees our contemporary companion meet up with the recurring team of Victorian oddities, the Paternoster gang, in a subconscious dreamspace. It’s a great way of bringing the characters together to chat about the Doctor, without actually involving him, setting up the principle purpose of the episode in an entertaining way. It’s all explained away with a handwave – “Time travel has always been possible in dreams” – the sort of lyrical throwaway line we’d expect more from a Gaiman episode. While the Great Intelligence (hereafter GI, for laziness) may demand less poetry from the Doctor, a little poetry helps make absurd contrivances more palatable.

While the continual recurrence of the Paternoster gang and the nanny-ish living setup for Clara makes me wonder why Moffat didn’t stick with Victorian Clara and make the 1890s the base era for this run of the show, it’s great, as always, to have the Victorian trio back. They’ve settled into their roles nicely by now, enough that a little more fun can be had with them. As always, it’s Strax who’s the greatest delight. He only really has two jokes – not recognising genders and a desperate need to become violent – but they keep being funny, so who cares. It’s also nice to see he’s found an outlet for his violent tendencies at last, with Moffat poking fun at his native Scotland (as a Paisley man, he would have grown up just outside Glasgow proper). As things spiral out of control, we see things take a turn for the worse for our favourite semi-regs; Strax loses his civilised behaviour, Jenny is murdered, and Vastra loses all semblance of leadership. It’s only Jenny’s continued death/resurrection cycle that blunts the impact of these scenes.

Of course, there’s a fifth character who joins Clara and the gang for the conference call. I wasn’t too keen to have River back, thinking that there was little left to be done with the character. However, by setting this appearance after her death in the Library (her first appearance in the series, in fact) Moffat let’s us see a different side to the character. This is a more melancholy River, still with a touch of her old facetious charm but predominantly a lonely character. She’s a ghost, whatever pseudo-scientific explanation we have for her presence. While at times, perhaps, Alex Kingston seems a trifle bored with the more subdued version of her character, she comes into her own once there’s some real interaction with the Doctor.

Ah, yes. The Doctor. After a run of episodes in which he’s had few chances to be anything other than zany and quirky, Matt Smith finally gets the chance to get his teeth into some genuine meaty acting. Not only is this post-Library for River, it is seemingly after their final meeting from the Doctor’s point of view, meaning that finally, the two characters are meeting on something of equal terms. Smith portrays tangible grief throughout the episode, from the moment he learns that he must visit his own grave (a fantastic, powerful scene between just him and Coleman), to his emotional goodbye to River. For once, there’s a genuine sense of love between the two of them. There’s also no shillishallying on the Doctor’s part about their relationship; after a moment trying to pass River off as an old friend, he gives up, accepting Clara’s description of her as an ex and then confirming that she was his wife. The inescapable feeling is that Smith’s Doctor is growing up.

When it comes down to Clara, the impossible girl, and the ongoing mysteries at the heart of the series, this episode delivers well in some quarters, less so in others. The final revelation that Clara has been scattered through the Doctor’s timeline in order to save him (“born to save the Doctor,” just as River was born to kill him) is a brilliantly effective way of wrapping up this thread. She chooses to go into the Doctor’s timeline to save him. There’s a sense of free will against the universe, even with the predestination that has brought Clara to this point. Events earlier in the decaying TARDIS, with Clara’s memories being freed up, also rather acquits the troublesome reset-button ending of Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS. In fact, the entire run is rescued somewhat by this episode, making it feel that it mattered in a way that was previously missing. Hopefully now that the mystery of her life has been dealt with, Clara will be allowed to develop some real personality in the next series. With both Smith and Coleman signed up for 2014, and knowing what they’re both capable of given the right material, there’s plenty of hope for the future.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-7: Nightmare in Silver

Overhyping is killing me this year. The penultimate episode of season seven/eight/7-b/33/whatever, Nightmare in Silver was bigged up ridiculously in the lead-up to its broadcast. Well, so has every episode this year, it’s part and parcel of the Doctor Who publicity engine. Even so, this time it really promised something. Neil Gaiman, fantasy author extraordinaire, vowed to make the Cybermen scary again. This was even described as the Cybermen’s equivalent of Dalek, the episode that redefined the pepperpots as unstoppable monsters to be truly feared and yet pitied. I’m not going to get into the current debate regarding how much of the final script was Gaiman’s work, as opposed to Moffatt’s. I don’t know the ins-and-outs of what happens behind the scenes at Cardiff, all I can go on is the credits on screen and the information on the official site and in the official magazine. Whoever wrote it, though, Nightmare in Silver is a drastically flawed episode, and Gaiman is the name pinned to it. I really, really don’t want to attack his work. He’s one of my favourite authors. But that just means my expectations were particularly high this week. The Doctor’s Wife was Neil Gaiman’s tour de force debut as Doctor Who author, and I guess Nightmare in Silver was his difficult second album. I fully accept that even the greatest writers can’t knock the ball out of the park with every single piece of work they write, but even so, Nightmare in Silver was a disappointment. It’s entertaining throughout, and we shouldn’t turn our noses up at that, but this is Neil Gaiman, for crying out loud. He’s better than this.

After last week’s clumsy linking scene bringing Clara’s young wards into the Doctor’s world, we knew we were getting two kids aboard the TARDIS. I’m fine with that. It’s a kids’ show. The problem is with the kids in question. Both the actors are fine, but aren’t really up to the calibre of some of the child actors we’ve had over the last couple of years, and haven’t the skill to make anything more of the material. Which would be fine if this was Gaiman’s usual grade of material. Instead we’ve got one boring young boy who doesn’t really say much, and one sulky cow who remains distinctly unimpressed by travelling through time and space because, you know, she’s a teenager and all teenagers on telly are like that.

Then you’ve got Clara, who, despite the best efforts of Jenna-Louise, still lacks much in the way of character. In fact, she seems to be rapidly losing character as the series progresses. Perhaps this will all be part of her mysterious backstory that is due to be revealed next week, in which case I shall reconsider her, but for now she’s feeling very sketched in. In this episode the Doctor installs her as commanding officer of some military idiots (who, in fact, follow her because the Emperor tells them to, but more on that later), a task she takes to with aplomb. Essentially, Clara playacts at being a soldier, spouting unconvincing commander dialogue, which might work if she had a character of her own. Instead, she’s simply an unconvincing character, for almost the whole episode. Only her reactions to the children’s assimilation seems real.

So, those soldiers. It’s a punishment platoon, a group of incompetents sent to this isolated planetoid to keep them out of trouble. Fine, if this episode were a comedy. Perhaps it was supposed to be, in an earlier draft, and the idiot soldiers are a remnant, after having had any actual humour removed. I can see no other explanation for this bunch of characterless morons. The only marginally successful character among them is Tamzin Outhwaite’s Captain, and she’s a blandly drawn cypher portrayed by a bland actress. Still, at least she’s canny enough to recognise her Emperor, and to try to deal with the Cybermen in the only sensible way: by blowing the bastards up. However, she’s shot dead whilst trying to do so, in one of the most ineptly directed sequences in recent Doctor Who.

Two actors do their utmost to redeem the episode. One is Jason Watkins, for once getting to play a pleasant character instead of a complete bastard, as Webley. Sadly, he gets little to do before he’s assimilated by the Cybermen, but nonetheless he’s very entertaining to watch. Shame we’ll never see him as the Doctor – I could really see him pulling that off. The second notable actor, and the most impressive in this episode, is Warwick Davis as Porridge, the abdicated Emperor. I confess I wasn’t expecting him to be terribly good, based on previous experience of him outside of monster costumes. I was very pleasantly surprised; Davis gives a subtle, measured and very likeable performance.

There are other niggling problems. The scenes on the Spacey Zoomer ride are cute, but look very shoddy. I realise that they’re supposed to look shoddy, what with this being a rundown park (and possibly as a cheeky wink at the old Cybermen serial The Moonbase), but viewers flicking over to that initial landing would be likely to think Doctor Who had returned to being cheap and cheerful and flicked over to ITV’s Saturday night nonsense. The imperial starship throne room is Cardiff’s Temple of Peace, again, fast becoming the most overused location on BBC drama television.

It’s the plot holes that bother the most, though. Doctor Who has almost had more plot holes than plot this year, but this episode is a particularly bad offender. The Cybermen have been extinct for a thousand years, but are so dangerous that the platoon still has some anti-Cyber technology around. Fine, got that, no problem. I just don’t understand how that millennium of Cyber inactivity fits in with everything else we hear about. Porridge talks about the Cyberwar as if he took part. OK, maybe he is a thousand years old, but a little mention of that wouldn’t go amiss. Webley has been waiting to get off Hedgewick’s World for six months, having arrived unaware that it had closed down. Yet the Cybermen have been holed up there for a thousand years, waiting for a child to arrive so that they could turn him or her into a Cyber Planner. How long has the place been closed? Did it struggle along with no under-18s arriving for ten centuries, the empty Cyberman shell sitting patiently? Did the Cybermen never think to try another planet, where children actually lived?

The Cybermen need children to act as Cyber Planners. I’ll buy that; the Daleks did it once already, so it can work. Yet, once they finally have some kids, they don’t use them, and turn the Doctor into the Planner instead. What a waste. The Cybermen as child-snatchers – that’s a horrible idea, and one with some real mileage, and it gives us a chance to use those kids effectively. As it is, it feels like something left over from an earlier draft, since there really doesn’t seem to be any need for the kids to be in the episode as it is.

It’s also a rare weak episode for Matt Smith, in his dual role as the Doctor and ‘Mr Clever’ the Cyber Planner. Turning the Doctor into a Cyberman isn’t a bad idea, but the way it’s portrayed here is woeful. While part of me balks at the terribly emotional Planner, I can forgive that; the Cybermen are forever going on about how logical they are and dismissing emotions while clearly displaying them themselves. The Doctor’s alter ego is, in fact, a rather damning indictment of the Doctor’s own character. There’s not so much difference between them; Mr Clever is the Doctor with the safeties off, with all the humanity drawn out so that there’s nothing left but the manipulative bastard we all know he really is. In practice, though, what we get is several scenes of Matt Smith arguing with himself. It works reasonably effectively in the Cyberspace of the network, but in the real world it involves an extremely over the top Smith pretending to be two people. SFX likened it to that old sketch in which the drag act sings the male and female parts of a song, with different makeup on either side. It’s not that bad, but it’s not dissimilar.

The Cybermen then. They’re what the episode is all about. The new design is very effective, not vastly different to the one they’ve been using, with some modifications, since 2006, but different enough to feel new. It’s less clunky, simultaneously less robotic and less human looking, which is a feat. The faces, harking back to the Troughton era looks, are very effective. It’s also fantastic to see them really move, sweeping through throngs of people at superspeed.  The Cybermites are a great addition to the mythology, a miniature variation on the Cybermats that crawl inside people’s bodies and convert them to the Cyber cause. A brilliant idea, nicely realised onscreen. There’s more than a hint of the Borg to these new Cybermen, of course, and that’s something a lot of people have picked up on. But why not? The Borg are the Cybermen done better anyway, so why not nick their best bits? The implants that grow across the faces of the Doctor and Webley are very Borg-ish, and the Cyber network is the collective consciousness that marked the Borg out as inhumanly enmeshed with each other back in their debut. Like the Borg, these new Cybermen can adapt rapidly to attack, ‘upgrading’ in moments. They sound unstoppable.

Unfortunately, they’re not. In spite of their superhuman speed, the three million strong Cyber army slowly stomps towards the castle like they did back in 2006, taking an age to attack the platoon. This army, so deadly that it warranted the destruction of an entire galaxy, kills what, two people? The useless squad stand up to them without much bother. While the Doctor’s plan of tricking the Cyber Planner into using all the Cybermen’s processing power to play chess is a very clever one, it does rather reduce the threat that they’ve spent all episode building up. That’s kind of inevitable, I suppose, since they can’t actually be unstoppable, but… damn it, they’re still vulnerable to gold, for crying out loud. That was crap at the in the eighties, can’t we leave it there?

 Of course, they are finally defeated by blowing up the planet. Which is fine, because it turns out the imperial throneship will turn up instantly when it is activated, and beam everyone to safety. Only Porridge didn’t activate it earlier because he doesn’t like being Emperor. Good thing only a couple of people died fighting the Cybermen, then, or he’d really have felt guilty. I’m not surprised Clara didn’t marry him. Although, after the danger he put her young friends in, I am surprised she didn’t tell the Doctor she’s see him next Tuesday.

The big problem is that this episode fails in its stated mission. It was supposed to make the Cybermen scary. Perhaps it did, for a few young viewers. But for most of us, creepy detachable body parts and all, the new Cybermen are an improvement, but still a long, long way from terrifying. Much as Nightmare in Silver was fun, but still a long, long way from quality.

Doctor Data: In Cyberspace, the Doctor teaches the Cyber Planner about regeneration, showing him his previous incarnations (no sign of John Hurt) and threatening to force a regeneration to kill the Planner and knock out his network. When speaking through the Doctor’s mouth, the Cyber Planner cycles through some regenerations, shouting “Allons-y!” in the manner of the tenth Doctor, and affecting a northern accent that, I can only assume, is Matt Smith’s attempt at impersonating Christopher Eccleston. The Cyber Planner says the Doctor’s brain has had “ten complete rejigs.”

Monster, Monster, Monster: We see three Cybermen initially, one of which is one of the Cybus Industries parallel universe models, and two of which are the Matt Smith era version that has been subtly redesigned. Gaiman is of the school of thought (as am I) that these are a hybridised version of the Cybus-men and the Telosian Cybermen. The new version, sleeping in tombs beneath the surface of Hedgewick’s World, are superior upgrades, and can now convert non-human species to Cybermen. Their network/collective consciousness, and their empire, is called the Cyberiad.

Future History: The Cyberwar was fought a thousand years prior to this episode, which is set around 250,000 years in our future. A new human empire (the Fifth?) spans several galaxies. The Tiberian spiral galaxy was destroyed to end the war (so must be no more than a thousand light years from Hedgewick’s World in order for the devastation to be visible).

Links and references: The waxworks in Webley’s museum include a Blowfish alien (from Torchwood), an Uvodni (from The Sarah Jane Adventures), several background aliens from The End of Time and The Rings of Akhaten and a puppet from The God Complex.

Best Line: “Please stand by. You will be upgraded.”

WHO REVIEW: 2013-6: The Crimson Horror

How many Victorian stories were there in 20^th century Doctor Who? Off the top of my head, I can think of only Ghost Light, The Talons of Weng-Chiang and The Evil of the Daleks, which is basically two and a half. Yet since the series returned in 2005 we’ve had The Unquiet Dead, Tooth and Claw, The Next Doctor and The Snowmen, plus A Christmas Carol, which was set in a retro-Victorian future. Now it’s back to 1893 for The Crimson Horror. I’m not complaining about this, far from it’ I’m merely observing the disparity. The odd thing is that I’m sure most casual fans (which is to say, people who anally retentive enough to actually know these things, like me) would have assumed there were far more Victorian adventures in the original run than that. Even the Victorian episodes we’ve had in the new series average fewer than one per season. It just feels that the Doctor spends half his time between 1837 and 1901.

There’s a reason behind this, of course. The character of the Doctor, as originally conceived, was a Victorian fictional trope: the gentleman scientist. Following William Hartnell’s time in the TARDIS, the Doctor went through several Victorian character types: the cosmic hobo was basically a down-on-his-luck Victorian gent, the third Doctor was a Victorian aristocrat transposed to the 20^th century, the fourth was a fin de siècle bohemian raconteur. Later, the fifth, six and eighth Doctors were all recognisably Victorian/Edwardian character types. The character just feels like he belongs in that era, and so it seems perfectly natural when he turns up there, even before you take his outfits into account (which made it so wonderful to see the decidedly un-Victorian ninth Doctor meet Charles Dickens).

After all the pervious forays to the period, it’s The Crimson Horror that plays the tropes of Victoriana most enthusiastically. Even Talons didn’t cram this much penny dreadful atmos into its six episodes as this story did into one. Of course, Mark Gatiss is so at home in this period that you’d think he was a century older than he really is. There’s a definite flavour of his novel The Vesuvius Club to The Crimson Horror; indeed, it wouldn’t seem amiss to see the Doctor bump into Lucifer Box. (Although Box is probably off shagging Captain Jack.) Really, though, this is off-the-peg steampunk, forty-five minutes of television revelling in the cod-Victorian stylings of this now popular genre. That’s not to denigrate it; while The Crimson Horror is neither the deepest nor most original episode, it’s hugely enjoyable.

The episode is strongest in its first act, following the peculiar investigations of the Paternoster Gang into the goings on at Sweetville. Vastra, Jenny and Strax remain the same one-joke characters that they were in their previous outings scripted by Moffat, but who cares when that one joke is still so funny? It pokes fun at the conventions of the Victorian period; it’s entirely possible to believe that society would accept a lizard woman and an extraterrestrial troll so long as they carried themselves with decorum and did what they could to fit into polite society. Even the lesbian marriage between Jenny and Vastra is believable in this context; we all know there were all sorts of perversions going on behind closed doors (not that lesbianism is a perversion, of course, but it most certainly was in the eyes of Victorian society), however, as long as they remained behind closed doors they were most often not commented on. The fact that it is also a transpecific relationship is barely worth mentioning.

So, yes, Vastra is still the aloof leader who happens to be a lizard, Jenny is still the sexy Cockney lock-pick and Strax is still the warmongering butler, but they’re all so good in these one-note roles that it’s impossible not to enjoy them. Dan Starkey, particularly, continues to steal his every scene as Strax, particularly when he gets a telling off (“I’m going to go play with my grenades,” he sulks, when prevented from perpetrating an act of war). He’s also, amusingly, in the right in this episode; say what you will about the ethic of the Doctor associating with a violent alien sociopath, if they’d followed his advice and gone with a full frontal attack the problems at Sweetville would have been solved in no time.

It’s almost a shame when the Doctor arrives, fourteen minutes in. The episode does go a little downhill once he takes over. While I doubt that the Paternoster three have what it takes to carry a spin-off series, they could easily carry an episode, but once the Doctor arrives he does rather overwhelm the other protagonists. Also, Matt Smith doesn’t get to do anything terribly interesting with the part, mostly just relying on his, by now, well-worn quirks. That’s no fault with him, though; he’s at his best when given something meaty to get his teeth into. The only really decent scene for him is his moment comforting Ada towards the end of the episode. He puts his all into his performance as ‘the monster,’ though, and his broad Yorkshire accent is a laugh (perhaps it’s time for a Yorkshireman as the Doctor?)

The flashback sequence, made up to look like scratchy old film, is a highlight, although it does rather show how brief the episodes have become. There’s a hell of a lot crammed in here. Some elements don’t need to be dwelled on; by the quarter hour mark, we know the monster is going to be the Doctor simply because it’s about time he showed up. On the other hand, the flashback condenses what could have been an episode’s worth of intriguing investigation into about six minutes. It’s compact plotting, I’ll give you, but sometimes a story needs room to breathe. Poor Jenna gets precious little to do as Clara. While this episode can’t be held to account for the whole series, it really is time we got to know her properly, and she really is very poorly served here. Jenna gets little to do but be plucky and look beautiful, and she’s a far better actress than the material she’s getting allows her to show. What’s more, the reunion with the Paternoster gang should allow some movement on the mystery surrounding Clara’s deaths, but this is mostly glossed over.

Really, though, this episode belongs to Diana Rigg and Rachel Stirling. It’s wonderful to have mother and daughter acting together at last – and how strange must it be, playing such a twisted version of your real life relationship? – but they both stand out so brilliantly on their own, with two very different performances. Rigg plays Mrs Gillyflower very broadly, but that’s just what the part needs; both actress and character look like they’re having a whale of a time with their roles. Stirling gives a completely different style of performance, a dark and touching role that buys the episode a good deal of its impact and horror. Without Rachel Stirling, this episode would have felt very light and frothy; she gives it a dark heart. It’s also interesting to see the pair of them in these roles, given that they tend to get cast as very beautiful people (unsurprisingly). Here they get to be ugly characters, a physically and emotionally damaged young woman and a truly cruel, insane old harridan.

The Crimson Horror proved to be one of the most enjoyable episodes of the season, an arch, over-the-top bit of nonsense that wisely never gives the viewer chance to dwell on how ridiculous it all is. Like pretty much every episode this year, the plot falls apart on a moment’s close examination, but when it’s as fun as this, that’s forgivable.

Title Tattle: The Crimson Horror is undoubtedly a reference to Gatiss’s favourite Doctor Who story, 1973’s The Green Death. Sadly, no one gets to say “This fellow’s bright red, apparently, and dead!”

Links and References: The Doctor mentions trying to get am Australian to Heathrow Airport, referencing Tegan from the fifth Doctor’s era. He then tops it off by almost quoting himself with “Brave heart, Clara.”

What? What? WHAT?! Just what does the Doctor do in his little locker that enables his complete recovery from the Crimson Horror and later revives Clara? I’m all for keeping technobabble to a minimum, but some sort of throwaway explanation would be nice. For that matter, how have Gillyflower and Sweet managed to create a steampunk rocket activated by a difference engine? And have the police really not been investigating the bodies washing up in the canal?

Monster, Monster, Monster! Mr Sweet is a red leech, a prehistoric leftover from the time the Silurians ruled the Earth. As usual, there’s no consistency regarding when this was: Vastra suggests it was 65 million years ago, the very end of the Cretaceous, while the Doctor refers to the Jurassic period, which lasted from roughly 200 to 145 million years ago. Mr Sweet, attached to his accomplice and providing a weird biological secretion, is reminiscent of Aylmer, the parasite in the 1988 movie Brain Damage.

Hanky-Panky in the TARDIS: Jenny’s sudden ninja moment is the sexiest thing I’ve seen on TV in ages. The Doctor would agree, judging by the look on his face (and screwdriver).

Threads: Love the Doctor's checked suit and brown derby. Clara looks beautiful in her Victorian dress,

Best Line: “Kindly do not claw and slobber at my crinoline.”

Best/Worst Joke: Thomas Thomas. Oh dear me. I love it.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-5: Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS

A title like Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS promises much. The Doctor’s trusty timeship is the single central icon of the entire series from its very first episode up to the present iteration, and it seemed that, in this anniversary year, we were finally going to get right into its inner workings and see what made it tick.

Only… well, we’ve had that episode, haven’t we? Two years ago, The Doctor’s Wife showed us the soul of the TARDIS, explored its labyrinthine structure and atemporal existence. The Doctor’s Wife already gave us our exploration of the TARDIS, providing the living machine with the equivalent of an origin story for a long-serving human (or human-like) character. This, then, raised the stakes even higher for the latest episode; not only did Journey have to provide an intriguing, exciting voyage of discovery, it had to outdo Gaiman’s episode and bring us even greater, more intimate revelations about the TARDIS’s character.

Under that criterion, this episode can only be regarded as a failure. I’ll accept that, with the shields down, the TARDIS was able to be severely damaged by some relatively primitive technology, even if it does make the ship seem disquietingly vulnerable. I’ll accept that the Doctor suddenly found himself outside the TARDIS and on the salvage ship, yet Clara found herself lost within the time machine’s corridors. I’ll accept any amount of frankly illogical plotting (although I’ll still revel in pointing it out) as long as it brings us to a powerful, affecting story. Journey didn’t.

There are some nice elements to the trip through the TARDIS’s interior. The rooms that contain whole environments hark back to highly imaginative moment sin the novel line, which finally gave the TARDIS the feel of something truly gigantic (even infinite, as it is claimed here). The architectural reconfiguration system, manifested as a techno-organic tree with glowing bulbs, was visually effective. The library, despite the rather obviously CG’d stacks, was an essential inclusion, the antique look summoning the baroque stylings of the eighth Doctor’s version of the Ship. I will come back to this. However, beyond these elements and some fun echoes of the past, the TARDIS seems rather hollow. Endless corridors do not make an exciting or interesting environment, even when they loop back on themselves in order to trap their occupants. Too much of the TARDIS feels just like any old spaceship.

Later on, we take a walk by the Eye of Harmony, an element of Gallifreyan lore now reinterpreted once more into something more visually impressive. The description of a star held in stasis at the moment of collapse from supernova to black hole is a fine science fiction conceit, but the roiling ball of flame by a bridge of death makes even less sense than the Eye’s previous iterations, even in the notoriously illogical TV Movie. Once we’re past this, the Doctor and Clara make it to the core of the TARDIS, an engine room that appears to be little more than a selection of gizmos spread-eagled across space with little regard to form or function. Yes, I understand that the engine had exploded and was being held in the moment, but it’s still presented as just an engine. If we’ve been taken past the mystical Eye of Harmony and into the TARDIS’s true heart, we should really be given something more than just a spacey motor.

So, yes, that library; a room with much information to impart. For Clara to find, displayed proudly on a pedestal, a book charting the Time War and the Doctor’s role within it, is potentially a hugely significant development. Not only does it promise revelations about the Doctor’s past, it also suggests that the TARDIS is eager for Clara to discover it. I’m not entirely sure if I’m happy with the prospect of the Doctor’s ‘secret identity’ being revealed; I really don’t think he needs secrets to be exposed. I will, however, wait until the promised revelation finally arrives before making up my mind. In any case, the ongoing mysteries regarding both the Doctor and Clara come to something of a peak here, only for the developments to be completely thrown out the window by the episode’s end. Clara discovers the Doctor’s real name from the book in the library, while the Doctor (and the audience) discover that Clara is, apparently, nothing more than a perfectly ordinary young woman. Then the Doctor presses a literal reset switch and wipes the entire episode from the timeline.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-4: HIDE

I knew there was a good chance I was going to love this episode as soon as they dropped a Ghostbusters reference in, just before the titles rolled. Not that the episode has much of a Ghostbusters feel to it; Hide come from a much earlier tradition of creepy ghost stories and pseudoscientific spiritualism, and such television greats as Kneale’s The Stone Tape. It’s long past time that Doctor Who did a proper ghost story, after dabbling with the form and feel with such episodes as The Unquiet Dead, The Empty Child and Blink. However, as much as it appeared we were finally going to have our ghost story at last, Hide changes into something quite different but no less effective.

Much of the fun in this episode comes from seeing how the story mutates as events play out, developing from a haunting to an interdimensional adventure, all the while being, underneath it all, a love story. Some commentators are even complaining now that Doctor Who is turning too many of its episodes into love stories, which is ridiculous. A love story is one of the most powerful, emotionally affecting story types ever devised and, as long as it’s done well, can be profoundly moving. It is, surely, something we can all identify with, those early, awkward glances and unspoken words that carry so much meaning. To combine it with the format of a ghost story brings fear and love, two of the most powerful, universal emotions, together.

Much of Hide’s success comes from Neil Cross’s fine script, which makes a much better case for his involvement in the series than his previous episode, The Rings of Akhaten. That script began with a love story, and then drops the protagonists, proceeded  tell us another story else entirely, only telling us how great the characters were in the final scenes. Hide shows us, letting us get to know Alec and Emma through their actions and reactions to one another, creating two very believable characters who centre the story. It’s easy to see how Cross got another commission on the strength of this script, written before Rings.

Of course, the script is nothing without decent acting and direction to bring it to life. Jessica  Raine and Dougray Scott are both excellent here, making Emma and Alec into  fully formed individuals. Between script and performance, Emma and Alec feel more real than any other character we’ve met so far this year, including Clara, now on her fourth episode and still feeling a little sketched in, in spite of some nice character moments and a fine performance by Coleman. Part of this is down to Raine and Scott’s acting style; both give very naturalistic performances that contrast well with the more stylised take by both Coleman, and moreso, Matt Smith. The contrast helps make Emma and Alec feel like part of the world, while the Doctor and Clara are clearly interlopers.

Which isn’t to say that either Smith or Coleman let the side down here. They are both on top form throughout, with Smith giving a particularly sharp performance in the episode’s quieter moments. The one standout scene for the two leads, when the Doctor takes the TARDIS on a trip through the Earth’s entire history, plants them firmly at opposite ends of the human experience, the (apparently) ordinary young woman and the ancient, alien outsider. Smith makes the Doctor’s discomfort with, and distance from, human emotion very clear, helped no little by Cross, who really seems to get this version of the Doctor.

What’s most satisfying about the Doctor’s experiences in this episode is that we finally see him genuinely frightened and out of his depth. He begins as his usual, supremely confident self, his boundless enthusiasm rubbing off on Clara (hence their cheeky introduction as “Ghostbusters!”) Clara is the first to get spooked out, but the Doctor has further to fall, and Smith portrays two distinct stages of fear. He freaks out during the wailing woman’s manifestation, and is clearly affected by the experience, admitting that he thought investigating her would be fun. Even then he’s working things out, and is on the case, using his vast knowledge to ascertain just what, and who, the witch of the well really is. In some ways, it’s a shame that there had to be a science fictional explanation for the Caliburn Ghast. It was inevitable that the Doctor would explain events away in a non-supernatural fashion, but it would have been satisfying to see him faced with something inexplicable for once. The only other time I can recall the Doctor truly afraid and baffled was in Midnight, an episode that has yet to be bettered in terms of a traumatic personal experience for the Doctor.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-3: COLD WAR

1983 is just about the latest year that I can consider to be historical. I was born in February 1984, so anything after 1983 feels like the present to me, or at least the modern period. Even though I don’t remember much of the first five or six years of my life (or much from the ages of about fourteen to seventeen, come to think of it, although I think that might be more alcohol related). The year of our birth is kind of hardwired into our perception of the world, with anything that comes before feels somehow separate.

Which is a long-winded way of saying that tonight’s episode of Doctor Who felt to me to have a historical setting. The Cold War is a sort of backstory to my existence, over by the time I became aware of the world at large, represented only by hazy memories of a wall being knocked down on the news, the knowledge that there had been until recently been something important called the Soviet Union, the hand-me-down current affairs of my parents and a whole host of eighties movies on the subject.

This means I lack the experience of Cold War paranoia that would, I imagine, give this episode the frisson of urgency it lacks for me. Intellectually, I know that if Skaldak presses the Big Red Button, a chain reaction of missile launches will send the Earth into a new dark age. Nonetheless, I fail to engage with the threat. It’s old news – the world didn’t end in 1983, after all, just as Clara says. Maybe we need a Pyramids of Mars moment in which we see a devastated world in 2013; or maybe I just need to be five years older to fully appreciate this episode’s setting.

Which is a shame, since Cold War, the episode, holds so much more for me to embrace than just nostalgia for the Cold War, the lengthy threat to international peace.  It’s all nostalgia for something, though. Nostalgia is, as I’ve pointed out before, what Mark Gatiss trades in. It’s his medium. The setting is recognisable to anyone who has seen any submarine drama, but primarily evokes The Hunt for Red October. It was probably a wise decision not to have the cast attempt Russian accents. It makes the characters easier for us to recognise, avoids any embarrassing accent anomalies, and further evokes Red October, with Sean Connery’s famously Scottish Soviet captain.

Most of all, it’s about nostalgia for Doctor Who itself. After all, we’re all here for one thing really: the big, green Martian. The Ice Warriors are one of the classic monsters, despite lacking much in the way of a concept. They are just big, green Martians, and, much like the Zygons (who are also set for a comeback), their appeal lies in their striking appearance. Gatiss, a writer steeped in the series’ mythology, recognises that to make the Ice Warriors work now he needs to do something new with them.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-2: The Rings of Akhaten

I’m not 100% sure where my opinion lies on this episode. There’s so much to praise here, and yet, it doesn’t quite hold together. The second script from Luther scribe Neil Cross (the first being for the upcoming episode Hide) comes across as very, very Moffat. Either the showrunner wrote a lot of this or Cross has got his vision of the series nailed. As with the eleventh Doctor era as a whole, it all comes down to the power of stories. The Doctor accepts the Akhaten religion, before it does something to actively offend him, because it’s “a nice story.” The Doctor takes astrophysics, and, like Carl Sagan before him, turns it into a story. The currency in the system, and the power that defeats the monster at the end, is the value of stories.

Doctor Who is a very visually impressive series, these days, and this episode is an absolute stunner. The eponymous Rings provide a beautiful setting with a genuinely cosmic sense of grandeur. Inside the habitat things are very clearly studiobound, but that’s not a problem when the inhabitants themselves are so varied and wonderful. Apparently, the prosthetics chief Neill Gorton has been working on monster costumes for years so that, once an episode like this came up, he’d have a ready-made menagerie of aliens with which to populate it. He doesn’t disappoint; the array of aliens is astounding, many of them sporting an unsettling Guillermo del Toro style to their look (indeed, while most commentators are comparing to the classic Mos Eisley Cantina scene, to me it is far more reminiscent of the Goblin Market in Hellboy II.)

As well as the impressive visuals, sound plays a more important part than in any episode previously. Murray Gold’s music is absolutely gorgeous, although there are times where it is far too loud in the mix. The culture revolves not just around stories but through song; the song that Merry sings to Grandfather is really rather beautiful. On the other hand, the whispering voices of the Vigil are chilling, elevating them to effective monster status in spite of their very limited concept.

The acting, as always, is absolutely top notch. Clara’s parents make an impression even in very limited screentime, while Coleman herself is note-perfect. Clara asks the right questions and has an explorer’s attitude, with a touch of no-nonsense northerner to keep things in line. Quite rightly, Clara isn’t flattered or overwhelmed by the knowledge that the Doctor has stalked her and her family through her life. Frankly, it’s pretty creepy. Coleman brings Clara to life perfectly; she has a magnetic presence on screen. The star if the episode, however, is Emilia Jones as Merry. What an incredibly talented young lady.

So, why is it that this episode somehow feels less than the sum of its parts? There are some wonderful ideas here: a mummy trapped within a golden pyramid on an asteroid; a giant planet with inhabited rings; a song being handed from chorister to chorister for millions of years. Ironically, considering the subject matter, the story as a whole just doesn’t quite cohere. Perhaps it’s due to the necessary rush of the format; these concepts need room to be explored. This story is probably better suited to prose. In the second half of the episode, things do become incoherent. There’s little reasoning; things happen just because. The alien mummy turns out not to be the soul-devouring Grandfatherafter all. This should be a huge revelation, but it’s just thrown out there with little opportunity to understand why the villain is now not a mummy but a sentient gas giant. Again, a soul-devouring planet is a fantastic idea, but not ideally suited to being realised on the TV screen.

There are other major weaknesses. The sonic screwdriver is more of a magic wand than ever before, the Doctor waving it about and stopping plot developments in their tracks. The Doctor’s attempt to sate Grandfather with his vast store of memories makes thematic sense, but ultimately doesn’t work. He loses nothing – his memories aren’t gone, so where’s the drama? Ultimately it boils down to another “I am the Doctor!” speech which is fast becoming a tired cliché of the new series, although Matt Smith’s performance here is far more powerful than the similar scene in The Pandorica Opens. Clara’s scene, defeating the beast with the untold stories of her mother’s life, does redeem the conclusion considerably and works thematically.

Ultimately, this is a beautifully realised episode, albeit one that doesn’t quite hold water. One to sit back and enjoy without thinking about too closely.

Doctor Data: The Doctor reads The Beano. I knew he wouldn’t be a Dandy fan. He’s previously been to Akhaten with his granddaughter – back when he looked like popular character actor William Hartnell, and presumably before the start of the series, since he doesn’t mention Ian and Babs. He pronounces scone as ‘sconn’ not ‘scoan,’ and rightly so.

Hanky-Panky in the TARDIS: Does anyone else find Clara’s bark at Doreen the scooter-hirer a tiny bit erotic? No? Just me then.

Monster Monster Monster: The alien mummy is a great creation, even if it is rather wasted here. The various aliens present include the Ultramancers – pretty groovy looking robots with red glowing eyes – and members of the species that represented the City State of Binding Light, right back in The End of the World in series one in 2005. The Doctor points out a Hooloovoo – according to The Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, this is a “super-intelligent shade of the colour blue.” Doesn’t much look there’s one of them floating around though. The Vigil seem to be some kind of cyborg race, with skull-like faces and some nifty superpowers.

Best line: “There is one thing you need to know about travelling with me… we don’t walk away.” 

Pretty perfectly summed up the series’ mission statement right there.

WHO REVIEW: 2013-1: The Bells of Saint John

There’s a lot resting on this episode. Not only does it have to provide an exciting intro to this latest run of episodes (I’m avoiding the Series 7-b/Series 8/Season 33 argument for the moment), it has to kick of the anniversary year’s programming, and reintroduce Clara as a bona fide companion, finally moving the programme on from its three year obsession with Amy Pond.

Matt Smith carries the bulk of this episode on his shoulders (somewhat broader than before, I think – has he been working out?) but it’s Jenna-Louise Coleman who has to make the best impression. Most characters get just one introduction, but Clara has had three, and each time Coleman has managed to bring something new to the table. The contemporary version of Clara is subtly different from her predecessors, a little younger, not quite as sassy and somewhat more vulnerable. It’s easy to see how she could grow into the supremely capable Oswin or the sharply witty Governess versions of the character, but here we meet a little earlier in her lifetime. She’s nonetheless recognisable as a version of the same character; flirty, adventurous and intelligent, just not quite so self-assured just yet.

With Smith on top form as a Doctor driven to the point of obsession by Clara’s mystery, the new leads make a tremendously charismatic duo. There’s an easy chemistry between them, perhaps more convincingly so than with Karen Gillan as Amy. In spite of Coleman actually being a little older than Gillan, she gives the impression of being younger, and this lends the Doctor’s protectiveness a paternal element. Which does make the flirting and ‘snogging booth’ comments a bit weird. No wonder he freaks out when she mentions it.

Of course, all this would be lost without a decent story to showcase it. Fortunately, The Bells of Saint John is the best opening episode since Smith’s debut in The Eleventh Hour three years ago. Pre-broadcast hype boasted the episode would have an urban vibe, and while that’s true to an extent, Moffat never forgets to bring the threat home to the viewer. For the first half, the episode is distinctly suburban, focussing on Clara’s own exposure to the danger in her comfortable home-from-home. Having an unknowable threat invade ones home is a classic tactic, for good reason; houses are supposed to be safe, and having something dangerous simply stride in like the walls aren’t there is unnerving.

For the first time in years, Doctor Who provides a genuinely unsettling and insightful look at the future. It’s undeniable that we live in a “wi-fi soup” as the Doctor calls it. With the never-ending march of technology seemingly continuing to pick up pace, it’s not difficult to imagine that there will come a time when human minds can be uploaded and personalities hacked. That the threat to mankind is based in the corporate world of the City is no accident; we are indeed as cattle to the consumer industry. There’s a little social commentary here on our ongoing need for the newest app and our near-permanent connectivity in modern life.

However, rather than a Steve Jobs type masterminding the affair for the sake of profit, we have a return appearance from the Great Intelligence. Although it is only one episode since it arrived back in the Doctor’s world, it has been three months, and I wonder how many casual viewers will immediately make the connection between the shadowy figure on the screen and the talking snowglobe of The Snowmen. While I guessed that the Intelligence might be behind all this, it was a stab in the dark; I wasn’t really expecting it to return, sporting the features of Richard E. Grant. Will the Intelligence be a new Big Bad for this current run, and how does this tie in to the mystery of Clara?

Grant’s appearance as the baddie-in-chief is little more than a cameo; it’s Celia Imrie who gets the meaty villain role. A classy thesp who was long overdue for a Who role, Imrie is perfect as the amoral but brittle Kislet. Her final scene, her mind reduced to that of the child, is beautifully played. A chilling reversal of fortune for a powerful character revealed as just another victim of the Intelligence.

The Spoonheads are reasonably effective. They’re not a classic addition to the swelling ranks of monsters, but then, they’re clearly not supposed to be. The walking base stations are there to fulfil plot functions with a little style and panache. The visual effects for them are perfectly pitched, not too showy, just enough to give some flare to what might otherwise be a slightly nebulous threat. The ranks of panicking faces behind screens in Kislet’s control room is also very effective; not unlike the similar threat of the Wire in 2006’s The Idiot’s Lantern, but more effectively pitched.

The effects are excellent throughout, in fact, combined with some top-notch direction and photography that makes watching the show in HD worthwhile at last. Not only does this series have the verve to open in a mediaeval monastery that has nothing to do with the main body of the storyline, it makes the entire sequence look gorgeous. Then, once we’re in the midst of the main story, it throws in a staggering near-crash sequence on a plane. In most series and, indeed, a blockbuster movie, this would be the central action sequence. In Doctor Who, it’s just one incident on the way, followed up by a quick jaunt on a bike to a good sit down in a café.

Title Tattle: I laughed out loud when they revealed what “the Bells of Saint John” meant. Very clever, if an odd choice of title for the episode. Has a nice ring to it though (sorry).

The Doctor’s New Clothes: The purplish look suits Matt Smith well. The tweedy frock coat and bow-tie have a hint of the Troughton look but with a more refined Pertwee aesthetic. Very retro. The Doctor’s prior outfit (I’m sorry, I will stop that) is a monk’s habit, which strangely suits him equally well. Although, apparently, monks aren’t cool. Personally, I’ve met some very cool monks.

Hanky-Panky in the TARDIS: Jenna-Louise Coleman is beautiful as ever, Matt Smith is particularly dashing in this episode, and I’ve long had a bit of a crush on Celia Imrie. Clara is a flirt, but nowhere near as much as her other two incarnations.

Links and foreshadowings: The Intelligence ratchets up a fourth appearance; honestly, nothing since 1967 and then it makes two appearances in a matter of months.

This isn't the first time we've seen the Doctor on a motorbike - he's done so in three previous incarnations. (Three in The Daemons, Seven in  Delta and the Bannermen and Eight in the TV Movie, fact fans.)

The book Summer Falls is written by one Amelia Williams, almost certainly our friend Amy. The significance is of chapter eleven – if there is any – remains to be see. Equally intriguing is that Clara was given her ‘helpline’ number by a woman at a shop. Could this be Amy? River? Or even Rose, now that we know she is returning for the 50^th anniversary special?

And did anyone else briefly expect the Meddling Monk to turn up based on the 1207 sequence?

Best Line: “It’s 1207!”

“I’ve got half-past three.”

Oh, the old ones are the best…

They came from Mars...

The Beeb have released an official image of the new Ice Warrior design, set to appear in the third episode of the upcoming run of Doctor Who (which should see them appearing on Saturday the 13th of April). Actually, the image started appearing on the internet a couple of days ago, but it's very much out there now. Personally, I love it, and I'm looking forward to seeing the Martians return; although they were never the most scintillating of enemies for the Doctor, there's something about a big green Martian lizard-man that's just hard to beat. 

The first thing every fan does - well, the second, after the little squeak of joy at seeing a brand new Ice Warrior - is compare it to the original design. The most obvious point is that the redesign is astonishingly faithful to the original, certainly the most faithful monster remake of the new series. Even the Autons looked more apart from their forebears than this, and they were just walking mannequins. 

There are plenty of differences when you look at the two designs together. Apart from the obvious things, like the use of more modern materials and so on, the main difference is an altogether more streamlined appearance when compared to the very cumbersome original. The hips in particular have been slimmed down. However, it's not all that different, in silhouette, to the 'Ice Lord' upper-class that commanded the Warriors in their 60s and 70s appearances (I do hope we get to see a Lord). The new version's shoulders are more built up, making its arms appear a little short compared to its body, and it lacks the tufts of hair found on its forebears (although the one pictures does seem particularly hairy).  The new Warrior's shell is more clearly divided into plates, but the overall effect is much the same, down to the boots and turtle-neck torso armour. One major difference is the hands; the original Ice Warriors had clamp-like pincers, while the new version appears to have bulky but clearly differentiated fingers. I am also very pleased to note that on its right arm, the new Warrior sports some kind of implanted device; I'm hoping this is the sonic weapon favoured by the originals, which made the screen go all wibbly when they shot people.

The status of the BBC foam machines is presently unknown.

WHO REVIEW: 7-X. The Snowmen

Victoriana makes Christmas feel more Christmassy, and Doctor Who more like Doctor Who. Following two mini-episodes to whet our appetites, finally the hour-long special arrives. It’s been months for us, but seemingly longer for the Doctor, who’s been sulking in the cloud layer since he lost Amy and Rory. The Snowmen presents the Doctor, and the series, with a fresh start. The show feels revitalised, with a new look, a new companion, and a new supporting cast.

In spite of the ongoing mystery that is Clara, The Snowmen is a fairly straightforward episode, and there’s nothing wrong with that. A fun, uncomplicated adventure, beautifully realised. Both of Smith and Moffat’s previous Christmas outings have embraced the fairytale ethos of their era more than the regular episodes, and this story continues in that vein. Although there are scientific trappings, this episode is an out-and-out fantasy. The Doctor lives in his TARDIS on top of a cloud, accessed by a ladder and hidden behind a wall of invisibility. It’s a beautiful image, emphasising the “anything’s possible” feel of the current series. Equally, the Snowmen themselves are visually stunning, fairytale monsters as creepy as hell (my poor sister really didn’t like those shark-toothed grins, and she’s twenty-four). As a threat, they’re fairly poor, as even the Doctor points out. They’re useless in the summer and can be defeated by thinking really hard, but they look great.

In fact, that’s something of a problem with the episode as a whole. Both the Doctor and the villains are on poor form here. Richard E. Grant is perfect as Dr. Simeon, putting in a surprisingly understated performance that is quite wonderfully sinister, while Sir Ian McKellen provides the ideal voice for the Great Intelligence. Who else guessed the villain’s identity? Really, for a fan, it was quite obvious, but the revelation that this was the Intelligence’s birth was unexpected. However, this mighty being is reduced to little more than a ghost, having been defeated by the power of a good cry. As a fairytale ending it works beautifully, but it makes the villains seem feeble and the Doctor little more than a bystander.

Indeed, the Doctor isn’t up to much in this episode. Thankfully, Matt Smith is excellent, as usual, and makes the Doctor seem far more impressive than he actually is. He excels at this quieter take on the character, while still being able to leap into the more manic, over-the-top style we’re more familiar with (the Sherlock Holmes moment in particular). However, if the Doctor is ineffectual, then this is just what is required by the story. This episode is about how the Doctor brings the best out in Clara, and how she reinvigorates him in return. To turn the Doctor around would require someone pretty damned special; happily, Jenna-Louise Coleman is more than up to the task. Her Clara is not just a (very) pretty face, but is fun, intelligent, creative and hugely confident. She’s a sparkling personality, but in the hands of a lesser actress could easily have become insufferable. Coleman makes Clara a character we’re desperate to get to know better, and it’s easy to see why the Doctor is too.

Coleman and Smith (sounds like a law firm) dominate proceedings so much, it’s hard for anyone else to make much of an impression. As noted, Grant and McKellen are both excellent in their roles, but feel very underused for such A-list names. Tom Ward barely gets chance to make an impression as Captain Latimer, although brother and sister actors Joseph and Elle Darcy-Alden are very impressive as his children. The Great Detective and her sidekicks get more screentime than in their debut, but even so, are in desperate need of a dedicated episode to explore them fully. Strax gets the bulk of their material, and supplies almost all of the genuinely laugh-out-loud comedy material, but Jenny and Vastra, both potentially fascinating characters, deserve a great deal more focus.

It would also be wise to turn a blind eye to the plot, which works on broad strokes but holds little water under scrutiny. Some apparent problems are possibly deliberate; if the Doctor wants to be left alone, why go to where three of his friends are living and give them his phone number, unless of course he subconsciously wants to be pulled out of his stupor. The one-word-test is utterly daft, and it’s a huge stroke of luck that Clara’s problem involved a pond and so tweaked the Doctor’s interest, but it provides a gorgeous scene and so can be forgiven. However, when the surprisingly shonky CGI ice-governess stalks the heroes, the characters’ oversights take the biscuits. Yes, the first visit to the TARDIS is always a major moment, but we were all shouting “Close the fucking door!” at the screen. One stupid oversight leads to Clara’s death, and while this was all necessary to move the plot forward, it could have been handled better.

All in all, though, The Snowmen is hugely enjoyable, and apart from the door debacle, any quibbles arose only after rewatching and over-analysing. This is a rich serving of Victorian whimsy, opening the door for new adventures for the Doctor and Clara and promising a new mystery to drive the series forward. Here’s to Series 7, Part 2, or whatever we’re calling it. Merry Christmas!

New looks: The Doctor now dresses in the Victorian style, as befits a man living in 1898; however, it looks like he’ll be sticking with the frock-coated look for the upcoming run. The purplish frock velevet frock coat and waistcoat give the elegance of the third or eighth Doctor, while the checked trousers and battered hat evoke the second (Troughton’s birdwatcher’s hat had a very similar silhouette to Smith’s Artful Dodger-styled topper). The bowtie returns when the Doctor gets his mojo back – before that, he wears a cravat, for the first time in a long while.

The TARDIS is looking pretty battered on the outside, but the interior has enjoyed a fantastic revamp. It’s perhaps less interesting than the Heath Robinson-styled madness of the previous design, but I find it far more effective, harkening back to the Brachacki’s hi-tec design for the original console room. Also, we get a revamped title sequence with both a spookier remix of the them tune, and a glimpse of the Doctor’s face for the first time since 1989.

Links: Vastra, Jenny and Strax first appeared in 6.7, A Good Man Goes to War. While the 19^th century is Jenny and Vastra’s native era, Strax’s presence is a mystery, especially since he died during his previous appearance. The Doctor says a friend brought him back, and leaves it at that. Sontarans are clones, of course, so it’s not too much of a stretch for him to be recreated.

The Great Intelligence first appeared in 1967’s The Abominable Snowmen and The Web of Fear. Not only does The Snowmen seemingly explain its origins, but also its decisions to invade with robot snowmen and to assault the London Underground. It also appeared in the direct-to-video spin-off Downtime – featuring Kate Lethbridge-Stewart (later met in 7.4, The Power of Three), as well as The New Adventures series and as the big bad in TDWP’s Season 37.

Hanky-Panky in the TARDIS: Jenna-Louise Coleman really is one of the most beautiful women ever to set foot in the TARDIS. However, let’s not overlook the gorgeous Catrin Stewart as sexy ninja lesbian maidservant Jenny. For those who like men, Smith is looking rather dashing in his new get-up, but the most handsome man in the episode is the lovely Tom Ward as Captain Latimer; sadly, I’m not sure I like him in a beard.

Best line:  “Sir, please do not noogie me during combat prep.”

WHO REVIEW: 7.5 - The Angels Take Manhattan

So, that was Amy and Rory then. The end of a very short ‘season’ of adventures, and of a long and complex relationship between two young Brits and an extraterrestrial. It’s been an emotional and convoluted journey, and it’s ended like it began: full of temporal anomalies and plot holes. But my, what fun it’s been.

The Angels Take Manhattan is, primarily, Amy and Rory’s episode, but the Doctor, River and the Angels themselves all get some decent characterisation or exploration. Did it need to be set in New York? Not at all; it would have worked just as well in Cardiff or London, but the setting certainly adds something to the episode. The location work is a boon; the city is brought to life in some gorgeous shots, both in the bustling New York of 2012 and the grim night of gumshoe 1938. We have only a handful of incidental characters; the only one that makes an impression is Grayle, the collecting crime lord. Mike McShane (still, for me, the Who’s Line is it Anyway? guy) gives him a personality beyond what such a character deserves; he is, after all, just there as a plot mechanism.

The Angels themselves work beautifully here. I’m on record as being of the opinion that their first appearance should have been their last; this episode has given me reason to reconsider. They are utilised far better here than in Series Five’s two-parter, still recognisably working to their original MO yet being expanded into a broader creation. The concept of a battery farm for human prey is inventive and chilling; I’m not sure it really makes sense for them to need one, if they’ve got the whole of New York at their mercy, but it’s still a fine idea. (And who knows? Perhaps they need to avoid twisting the timeline to much. Time-shifting everyone in New York would mess things up pretty drastically.) While I’m not sure quite how they’ve taken over all the statues in the city, it does provide some memorable visuals. The baby Angels, creepy little cherubs, are fantastic, and their little giggle is quite unsettling (although they sound exactly like the Boos in the Super Mario games, which pulled me out of the moment rather suddenly).

If there’s a single concept or visual that’s going to stick in people’s minds after watching this episode, it’s the Statue of Liberty. Making the most iconic statue in the world into a Weeping Angel was surely an irresistible conceit for the show’s creators, and few shows would have the balls to pull off something quite so absurd. Even a moment’s thought shoots this idea to bits, though; I refuse to believe that there’s a single moment when nobody is looking at the Statue. Angel or not, it should be permanently rooted to the spot (except when animated by positively-charged mood slime by the Ghostbusters, of course).

The central concept, of being part of a story and the perils involved therein, is a beauty. It does, after all, tie in to the fairytale ethos of the series in the eleventh Doctor era so far, but is here brought to the fore like never before. In a series in which time has been seen to be changed again and again, we needed an episode like this to put some boundaries back in. There’s no drama if the hero can nip back and sort everything out again later; contrived though it may be, setting the Doctor’s story down an inalterable path removes some of his ever-increasing power, and rightly so. “Time can be rewritten,” points out Amy. “Not once you’ve read it,” responds the Doctor. Other episodes might disagree on this point, but here, it works beautifully, giving the story real drama and impetus.

While there are moments when the time-travel threatens to become the star of the show, Moffat keeps thing rooted in the experiences and reactions of his character. When Amy reads ahead, the Doctor is fated to break River’s wrist. OK, he doesn’t actually break it himself, but leads it to happen, and the resulting confrontation between the two of them is extremely powerful. Indeed, this is the first time that River and the Doctor have actually felt like a couple, be they bickering, flirting or faffing about with the TARDIS lightbulb. Equally, the friendship between Amy, Rory and the Doctor has never felt stronger or more natural than when they’re all larking about in the park at the beginning. It makes the eventual outcome of this adventure all the more poignant.