Who Novelisation Quest 12: "Twice Upon a Time" by Paul Cornell

With the release of the first new Target novelisations in decades, it seemed a good opportunity to follow up my old Who Novel Quest with a new run through the novelisations - one for each Doctor (excluding the War Doctor). For no particular reason, I'll run through them in reverse. Why not? Timey-wimey, or something. 

The final release of the Target line – for now – is the most up-to-date it could be, with Paul Cornell novelising the 2017 Christmas special, right up to the first, and so far only, appearance of the thirteenth Doctor. Unlike Rose or The Day of the Doctor, Twice Upon a Time isn't covered by the scriptwriter, but by one of the most celebrated authors of the novel line. Cornell shot to Who stardom with the early New Adventure Timewyrm: Revelation back in 1991, being one of the first writers who really looked into what made the Doctor tick. It makes sense then that Cornell takes on this introspective regeneration story.

Twice Upon a Time doesn't spend as much time in the Doctor's head as The Day of the Doctor, but it does look at the Doctor's perspective on his upcoming regeneration - both of them. I'm absolutely convinced that the twelfth Doctor's reluctance to regenerate is completely within character, but the novelisation goes into more depth, adding an element I hadn't considered. The Doctor has now lived what he considers a normal, human life: years spent with his wife, followed by a long retirement as lecturer at a university. Decades longer than a human life, of course, and interspersed with trips through time and space, but still, the closest thing to normality he has ever really experienced. Added to which is the Doctor's defence that he is, after thousands (arguably billions) of years, just tired. This is a man who is ready to let go. From the first Doctor's perspective, the fear of the unknown is more apparent as his reason, having held onto his original body for too long and in dire need of a regeneration (although I'm pleased to see Cornell note that it isn't simply old age, but the energy drain of the Cybermen that finally does him in). A nice touch is that the first Doctor almost accepts the need to regenerate, until seeing his future as “the Doctor of War” puts him off.

It's quite right that the cover of the novelisation depicts David Bradley as the first Doctor, given his wonderful guest role in the special. However, reading the story in prose form provides the opportunity to imagine the adventure featuring the Doctor as portrayed by William Hartnell. The twelfth Doctor is even more bemused by his first incarnation's behaviour in the book, rightly noting that he is behaving rather out of character. He even wonders if he is showing off in front of the Captain, which would be quite in character for the first Doctor. Still, being able to imagine the story as featuring the original Doctor does add a little something, even if it does cause it to slip into black and white in my head from time to time. The one significant element missing from the TV version was Susan, so I'm pleased that the first Doctor comments on how much he misses her. There's even a nice allusion to their reunion in The Five Doctors, something that is normally skated over.

Bill's story is much expanded, which adds an extra dimension to a story that otherwise focuses heavily on the Doctor. We learn a great deal more about her life with Heather, one that saw them settle on Earth surprisingly quickly, in what might be seen as a parallel to the Doctor's longing for an ordinary life. More of the story is told from her perspective, and from the Captain's, than we might expect given the focus on the Doctor on TV. We also get some welcome expansion on the fates of certain characters, from Nardole to Rusty the Dalek, although Clara's ultimate fate remains mysterious.

Most of all, the twelfth Doctor's acceptance of his regeneration is more fluid here, coming over less as a story obligation than in the broadcast version. While Twice Upon a Time doesn't play with the story like The Day of the Doctor, or explore the Doctor in the same depth as Cornell's best works, it does exactly what a novelisation should do, which is to bring depth to a story that leaves it stronger and more satisfying than it had a chance to be on the screen.

Data: 
First published by BBC Books (Target imprint) in 2018
Based on "Twice Upon a Time," first broadcast in 2017
Audiobook read by Mark Gatiss

WHO REVIEW: 2017 Christmas Special - "Twice Upon a Time"

That was a very unusual Christmas special. Over the years we've had OTT Christmassy trimmings, explosions and bombast, and comedy silliness, often all three. This year, after the extraordinary two parter that ended series ten, we have a much gentler, much quieter affair that acts as an epilogue more than a story in its own right. I might question the wisdom of making the Christmas Day episode - the episode most likely to attract casual viewers - a follow-on from the previous episode and a sequel to 51-year-old black-and-white story, but Moffat seems to have pulled it off. I have to say seems to, because I can only view this from the perspective of someone who's steeped in this stuff. Of course I loved it, and most of my friends who are fans but not diehard Who nuts enjoyed it too. What it must have meant to someone who's taking a punt and has never seen the show before is beyond me.

In spite of the risk of starting something with a flashback to 1966, the opening is one of the best things about the episode. "709 episodes earlier..." states the caption, and shows us a scratchy bit of black-and-white footage of William Hartnell. This is a tricky thing to pull off, not least because you're about to see someone else take on the same role, but the segue from Hartnell to Bradley works beautifully. The move from lo-res monochrome to HD colour makes the differences in their appearance and voice less obvious, not more. It's almost saying, "and here's how it really looked." It also provides context for the fannish indulgence that helps makes sense for newer viewers. Most people who've heard of Doctor Who will know that the actor changes once in a while, so the obvious inference was that there was a first. This is his special comeback.

It's perhaps a little unfair on Capaldi to have him share his swansong with another actor in the same role. He's already going to face the inevitable overshadowing the moment his successor appears, so to have a guest star come in and pretty much steal every scene he's in is a bit harsh. But, we know he's enjoying this. It was Capaldi's idea to bring the Mondasian Cybermen back, and it was apparently his idea to get Bradley to play the first Doctor. This is as much an exercise in indulgence for Capaldi as it is for Moffat, two overexcited fanboys giving themselves one last treat before they go.

What did I love? Capaldi's was excellent throughout, as always. He brings any material up a notch. Rachel Talalay's direction was superb, as it always is, really lifting the scenes which could have dragged as just a bunch of people talking isn't the most visually exciting spectacle.Murray Gold's music was especially good, full of little callbacks to his earlier episodes (the Eccleston theme was a lovely touch). Seeing that he's going as well, it's only right that he should get to give himself a little send-off after twelve years of composing for the series.

Bringing Bill back was the right move. It's slightly baffling that Moffat creates one way to bring her back from the dead, has the character reference it, and then creates a completely different way to bring her back again. No character's safe now, the Testimony could bring anyone back for a cameo. It works though, because not only does Bill really need to be on hand to wave the twelfth Doctor goodbye, she also provides a perfect illustration of how times have changed since the series started, which is what this episode is all about. There barely were any black actors working for the BBC in the 60s, we certainly wouldn't have got an openly gay character, and it the contrast feels right. The little cameos from Nardole ("Aw, cuddle,") and Clara worked well too, although they probably would have played better reversed.

Mark Gatiss was absolutely perfect. Casting his buddy in a major guest role smacks of Moffat indulgence again, but he's so excellent as the war-fatigued Captain that it's entirely forgiveable. Gatiss really is astonishingly good at these "stiff-upper-lip" roles, bringing enormous pathos to a character that in other hands could have fallen very flat, in spite of the fine dialogue. I was waiting for him to be revealed as a Lethbridge-Stewart, and it was a moment that brought a little cheer when it came. Again, more fannish indulgence, but it's such a little thing that it didn't seem intrusive.

But yes, the big star of the episode was David Bradley. His version of the first Doctor is quite different in many ways from the original, but it's an interpretation of a character that convinces and Bradley becomes his own Doctor, much as Richard Hurndell did when they tried something similar back with The Five Doctors. He has just the right mix of grumpiness, compassion and humour, and for all the retconning, it's a fine exploration of the character. It makes perfect sense that the Doctor would resist his first regeneration - the idea would be terrifying! It was even part of earlier drafts of the script for The Tenth Planet. On the other hand, Hartnell's Doctor was never that sexist or pig-headedly old-fashioned. I understand why some fans are put out by this, but I see it as more of a comment on the time the series was created than the character itself. Sexist old first Doctor illustrates that yes, times have changed - after all, it doesn't make much sense that a time-travelling alien would reflect the mores of contemporary Western society, but he always has, so why not lampshade it? It works well, mainly because Bradley's performance of the lines, and Capaldi's cringing reaction to them, makes it so funny. And the "jolly good smacked bottom" line is a direct quote. We should probably be grateful he didn't start going on about Arabs.

For fans, the stronger contrast is between the "early days" first Doctor, who still wasn't quite the heroic figure we now know, even in his final few stories, and the brash superhero that the Doctor has become. Since David Tennant's first episode, the Doctor has been proclaiming that he's the protector of the Earth and threatening aliens with how awesome he is, and it's good to see this approach taken down a peg a little. Moffat is well aware of what works in the modern series, but isn't afraid to send up his own material and call back wistfully to times gone by. It's a tricky balance, but it works.

I love the idea of making the seemingly alien threat a very human, compassionate scheme, especially as the twelfth Doctor is left at a loss when there's no evil plan to defeat. Indeed, everything that happens in this episode is the Doctor's (and the TARDIS'), fault. The most powerful and affecting part of the episode, though, was the Christmas Day armstice. It would have been bizarre not to visit this, if we're doing a Christmas story involving WWI, and it's somewhat surprising that the series hasn't done so in the past, because it seems like such a perfectly Doctorish moment in history. I'm very glad they resisted any temptation to make the Doctor responsible for it, though. It's a truly wonderful moment in our history that needs to be treated with reverence.

The not-so-good? Well, the diversion to see Rusty the Dalek was a bit of an oddity, even though I guessed it was him pretty early on. It's an effective sequence, but it feels out of place in the episode and messes with the, already languid, pacing. Overall, it's a very talky episode and that's perhaps not the best idea for a Christmas extravaganza, so at least the Dalek mutants and laser blasts should have regained some of the kids' attention. As previously said, Capaldi misses out by having to share the limelight here, so it's only fair that he gets a long monologue to say goodbye to the character. That's what these farewell speeches are, of course - it's the actor's chance to say goodbye, not the Doctor's. It's beautifully performed, but my, it does go on a bit, doesn't it? I kind of miss the days when it was all over in a flash.

Altogether, though, this was just lovely, a cosy, reassuring little adventure for a winter's day that bids a fond farewell to Capaldi, Moffat and Gold. It's the biggest shake up since 2010, and even then, the music was still consistent. I'm a big fan of Moffat, but he's been running the show for seven years now - a couple of years longer than he even wanted to do - and it's time for a change. Speaking of which...

Number Thirteen:

I love regeneration episodes. The feeling of sadness as a Doctor leaves moving to excitement for the first few moments of the new Doctor. I have no time for people bitching about Jodie Whittaker's performance because of thinly-veiled reactionary sexism, and nor do I have much time for people gushing over here saying "OMG she's gonna be my favourite!" She has said two words. As with all the Doctors after their first few seconds, it's too early to judge her performance. Calm down! That said, I like her delivery of those two words, I love her smile, and I'm pleased she's kept her West Yorkshire accent.

WHO REVIEW: 10.11 & 10.12

WORLD ENOUGH AND TIME

THE DOCTOR FALLS

“World Enough and Time” kicks off what is Doctor Who's best series finale since Matt Smith's inaugral run, perhaps even since the heady days of the Eccleston, Tennant and Piper. There is, however, a big flaw in the episode's presentation that comes about, not because of the episode itself, but because of the media surrounding its broadcast. Which is why I'm hiding the review after a page break, because I still know fans who haven't seen it and it really is best seen without spoilers.

WHO REVIEW: 10-10 "The Eaters of Light"

I can't help but feel a little sorry for Rona Munro. Not too sorry for her - she's an award-winning, critically lauded playwright enjoying huge success in theatre, after all. Her Doctor Who credits, though, seem cursed to suffer ignominious fates. Her first story, Survival, was fated to be the last Doctor Who story of the original run. It wasn't meant to be - it was recorded third to last - but it was broadcast at the end of the 1989 season and as such has been tarred by the reputation of the story that ended the series. Twenty-eight years later, Monro becomes the first classic series writer to return to write for the new series, and her episode gets the lowest overnight ratings in the series' history. I think that people are making a bit too much about the ratings of the show - they have gone downhill, but then, BBC ratings have been dropping across the board. The new singsong show, Pitch Battle, which followed right afterwards got even less. Still, it's a kick in the teeth for Munro, which is a great shame, because both of her Doctor Who scripts are rather excellent.

The Eaters of Light is quite an old-fashioned script, which isn't too surprising. A historical mystery that turns out to be down to an alien life form, the Doctor and his companions getting split up, some heroic sacrifice and there you are. A nice, straightforward adventure. It also features some nice, strong characterisation and a potent anti-imperial. anti-war message. It's arguable that following Empress of Mars with this story was poor scheduling, but it also follows through on a strong thematic storyline that explores cowardice, readiness for war, and imperialism. The surviving members of the Spanish Ninth Legion are the ones who ran away in fear; the courageous soldiers all died. Of course, they all come good in the end, sacrificing themselves to protect the Earth. On the other side, we have Kar, whose fear provoked her to unleash the Beast against the Legion.

The characterisation of the regulars is a little off. Not Nardole - he's spot on, ingratiating himself with the proto-Picts and looking happy enough to settle down and learn "Scotch." Bill, on the other hand, has caught the same weird obsession with the Romans that both Amy and Clara had, something that seems to exist purely to give some reason to explore the mystery of the Ninth Legion. It's hardly like they need a reason to be there, beyond the Doctor fancying this period of history today. It's also a slightly odd moment when Bill realises that the TARDIS is translating for her. Both Rose and Donna had that scene, but at their first opportunity, not ten episodes in. It's very in character, though, that she immediately then realises it's a telepathic field, sci-fi savvy as usual. (The lip-sync line is great as well.) The Doctor seems to have regressed to his season eight persona, all Tucker-ish aggression and criticism. He's viciously dismissive of "brave people£ and is apparently "against charm." (It'd be fun to see Twelve opposite Ten someday - his earlier self would wind him the hell up.)

There's some intriguing characterisation for the Doctor, who seems thoroughly besotted with the Roman Empire. Only recently he was expounding the value of their imperial rule, and here he glibly raves about the indoor toilets to a young woman whose people were almost exterminated by the Romans. I do love his quiet acknowledgment that everyone in the universe looks like children.

The science of the episode is pretty flimsy, but then, this isn't a scientific episode. This is pure fairy tale, with the Beast's dimension being very clearly fairyland, right down to the differences in the passage of time on each side. The fate of the soldiers, reduced to bog bodies by the creature sucking the light out of them, is grim, but makes no sense scientifically. People's bones don't stay strong because they contain sunlight, they stay strong because the UV part of sunlight provides the activation energy for a chemical reaction within the skin that produces the needed vitamin D. As a storytelling device, though, it makes perfect sense; it just needs to be approached with a sort of child-like logic. Oddly enough, most viewers seem to have more of a problem with the use of light to hurt the Beast, but this makes more sense. The Doctor suggests the devices have optical cancellation properties, and the Picts say it poisons the light. Presumably, they remove the wavelengths of light that the creature needs to survive (UV, frequencies, I'm guessing), leaving only wavelengths toxic to it, rather like filtering out all the oxygen from air, leaving only nitrogen and carbon dioxide.

It's a sign of how far television has come that Munro can now have a casual discussion of homosexuality, instead of making sly references to lesbianism like she had to with Survival. I love the frank Roman acceptance of bisexuality, and Bill's surprise at the ease at which it is accepted. It's a timely reminder that cultural attitudes can vary wildly over time and location.

In spite of the slight old-fashionedness of the story, it kicks along at a fair pace, and is all wrapped up by about thirty-five minutes in. After this, there's the final scene, which exists as a set-up for the grand finale (which is just about to begin as I write this). I don't know if the scene was written by Munro, Moffat or both, but it's a far stronger characterisation of Missy than we've seen so far this season, and for once, I can believe that she might actually be able to change. As this is my last chance to speculate, I can't help but think of the Alastair Reynolds novel Harvest of Time, which posited that the Master's own existence through time was bearing down on him. Separated from the influence of his other selves, the Master was capable of acting out of goodness. I wonder if we are going to see something similar to this when John Simm's Master returns. Finally, the Doctor says that Missy needs to learn to hear the music. I think that the music have been the problem in the first place.


Stray thoughts: 

Nardole tells the Picts the true story of what happened to the crew of the Mary Celeste. Apparently they were eaten by the Enzomodans, who communicate by digesting people. We probably shouldn't believe everything Nardole says though - 1965's The Chase told us the real story: the Daleks did it.

Kar is the Gatekeeper. I am not clear on who the Keymaster is. The Easter of Light is clearly the Terror Dog though.

So, the Doctor was a vestal virgin, second class? Was he not able to become first class because he's a man, or because he's not a virgin? Or is there something we don't know about the Doctor's past? Is this another hint that he was once female?

As far as I know, crows can't talk, but ravens sure can.

Best line:

"Complete and total absence of any kind of sunlight."

"Death by Scotland."

WHO REVIEW: 10-9 -"Empress of Mars"

By George, that was jolly good fun, what?

"Empress of Mars" is inarguably the most straightforward episode we've had this year, and in a season that has seen a conscious attempt to go back to basics, that's saying something. There isn't a single surprising thing in this episode; even that lovely monster cameo at the end is about as predictable a bit of fanwank as you could get with Mark Gatiss in charge. Indeed, this is about the least surprising episode you could get from Gatiss; Victoriana crossed with Pertwee, with a touch of Troughton, is about as Gatiss as you could get.

None of which is a criticism. Straightforward and predictable is not always a bad thing. Sometimes all you want is a good, old-fashioned adventure where you know who's good, who's bad, and who appears bad but will ultimately come good. After a few episodes that tried to do new things with Doctor Who but didn't really pull them off, going back to the old days and just doing it bloody well is a tonic.

This is an episode that exists primarily to justify some arresting visuals. Mars is always a source of spectacle, and the conceit of the British Army colonising the planet, red tunics against red soil, couldn't be anything other than gorgeous. Opposing the red tunics are the iridescent green carapces of the Ice Warriors, and the Empress Iraxxa, with her crimson visor. It's an array of red and green.

The Ice Warriors always were the archetypal big green monster, huge clomping lizards with pincer hands and rasping voices. They've been refined a bit since then, both in the Peladon stories of the seventies (on which, more later) which introduced the Ice Lords in their fine capes and glitter, and again in 2013's "Cold War." This is the new Ice Warrior that Gatiss introduced then, thankfully not slithering out of its carapace for a sneak around some ducts. Ice Warriors, to me, should be towering, clanking brutes, and so they are here. But that doesn't mean they can't be characters. While the bulk of the Martian cast are lumbering monsters, the main man Friday is a rather interesting character, a being who has a genuine reason to be conflicted between his ancestral ties and his current situation. The success of the character really goes to actor Richard Ashton, who gives a quiet and dignified performance as the lonely Martian. He absolutely raises the episode up above the sheer silliness it could have been, portraying the noble creature who looks sluggish and cold-blooded but is actually passionate and possessed of a delicate enough touch to catch a saucer in one chitinous pincer.

Also impressive was Adele Lynch as Iraxxa, a character that veered close to becoming a walking cliche of the "Aren't men stupid?" variety but thankfully avoided it. She actually turned out as a rather well-written antagonist, one who never let her understandably strong loyalty to her people lead her to do something stupid. It's a good thing the decision was made to allow the Martians to speak with an easily understandable voice style, instead of hoarse rasping, although for a moment I was convinced Iraxxa was played by Sarah Parish, since she sounded exactly like the Empress of the Racnoss from "The Runaway Bride." Of course, the Martians would sound better here, because this is their natural atmosphere - that was established as far back as 1969's The Seeds of Death.

The human characters are almost as important in an episode like this, and much of the running is held together by Anthony Calf's excellent performance as the "coward" Colonel Godsacre. A note perfect performance of another archetypal character, that rises above cliche by virtue of strong writing and excellent acting. Also very good is Ferdinand Kingsley as Captain Catchlove, such an out-and-out prig that you can feel how hated he is by every other character on screen, Most of the remaining soldiers get little opportunity to distinguish themselves, although Bayo Gbadamosi made young Vincey very likeable.

There are some lovely visual moments in the episode, from the "God Save the Queen" message to the stars to the sonic disruptors that kill the Martian victims in a bloodless but horrible manner. Most arresting is the Warrior reaching up slowly from beneath the ground, and although this calls back to "The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood," that episode was seven years ago, and so hardly fresh in the minds of most viewers. Although, watching the episode with a normal person (well, relatively normal), suggests that most viewers won't remember there's a difference between Ice Warriors and Silurians. They are, after all, both green, scaly humanoids whose females are surprisingly curvy for reptiles.

Gatiss has already stated that this episode was, briefly, going to be set on Peladon, and that would have pushed the very unsubtle anti-Brexit element of the story to the forefront. The Curse of Peladon was, after all, about the UK joining the European Economic Community. However, we did at least get that wonderfully fanwanky moment when an individual from Alpha Centauri answered the Martians' distress call. Not only was this a direct callback to the Peladon stories - the very first foundations of the Federation that will form two thousand years later, perhaps - but they even got the original Alpha Centauri actor Ysanne Churchman out of retirement to voice the Cyclopean alien once more. Not that it could ever be anyone but the Alpha Centaurians - they are the next star system along, after all. I'm slightly amazed the production team would even show us the bizarre creature again, although its probably for the best that they elected to only show us its head, and not the, ah, shaft.

Capaldi gets to do his best Pertwee in this episode, raging against imperialism and war for its own sake while threatening the aliens with a massive great tank. Pearl Mackie, on the other hand, gets little to do, her presence in the episode being mostly made up of pop culture references and an occasional note that she is the only other female in the main body of the story. It's Nardole's brief presence that's most baffling. While removing him and TARDIS from the story gets rid of an easy escape route for the Doctor and Bill, there is no indication of why the TARDIS suddenly shifts back to Earth. Is it down to something the Master did, and if so, how? And what are we to make of Missy's sudden concern for the Doctor? The only thing I can take from it is that the Doctor has, indeed, already begun regenerating...

Victorian attitudes: There's some questionable racial politics in this episode, or rather, there aren't any. Godsacre's only problem with Bill being a space police officer is that she's a woman, with no mention of her racial background. There's no racial politics mentioned at all, beyond "We're British, we belong anywhere!" which is distinctly odd, considering they've just come from the wars in South Africa. Then there's the casting of Vincey. Bayo Gbadamosi is great, but the idea that a black man could fight not only serve in the British army, but marry a white girl, is almost without precedent. Indeed, Gatiss protested the casting; his interview here makes an interesting point about balancing representation with historically realistic casting. In another story, it might matter less, but in a story about imperialism, it seems a strange thing to overlook.

Best line: "Sleep no more, my warriors!" Mark Gatiss namedrops his own episode.

WHO REVIEW: 10-8 - "The Lie of the Land"

The final installment of the Monks Trilogy looks set to be a genuinely interesting bit of science fiction until about twenty minutes in. "You're stagnating," says the Doctor. "In fact, you're regressing." So it goes for the episode itself, which singularly fails to make the most of its many promising elements.

To begin with, it's 1984 all over again, with memory crimes as a thin cover version of thought crimes and the Doctor himself taking up the Big Brother position. The Monks have completely duped the human race into believing that they've lived alongside them as watchful guardians for the last however many millennia, and only a very few are (somehow) aware of the truth. In the era of fake news and alternative facts, it's a decent attempt at satire. Although, the situation presented, with a small group staying in power by peddling an obviously false history and violently crushing any voices of dissent sounds more like religion than any political regime currently in the headlines (although there are plenty of countries, such as Saudi Arabia and, increasingly, the United States, where the line between politics and religion has disappeared).

Pearl Mackie earns her keep on this episode alone, delivering a heart-wrenchingly strong performance as Bill clings onto her reality ever more desperately. She really is exceptional when given strong material to work with, and her horrified reaction to the Doctor's betrayal is only bettered by her stoic acceptance of the necessity of her sacrifice.

Almost as good is Capaldi, who shines as a manic, powerful Doctor, grinning terrifyingly out from omnipresent TV screens, blithely lying to the populace and calmly instructing people to inform on family members. He carries the pretense of the Doctor's defection so well that the viewer can truly believe he has sided with the aliens. After all, there is a strong argument to be made that humanity doesn't deserve free will, and after all the centuries of saving us from ourselves, the Doctor might finally believe that.

The problem is, it would have been much more interesting if the Doctor had been serious. It's fascinating that Bill turns on the Doctor so suddenly. After all, she sold out humanity in order to save him, on the strength of her faith in him, and it takes very little to finally shake that faith enough for her to gun him down. It's a tremendously powerful moment that is unfortunately wasted by the Doctor revealing the entire thing was a huge joke at her expense, a highly contrived way of testing to see if she was still on the side of truth and free will. It even includes a glimmer of faked regeneration energy, which seems to have been included solely to spice up the early season trailers.

From this point on, events plod on with a certain inevitability. Missy finally returns, and while Michelle Gomez is as delicious as ever, she's largely wasted as an exposition source in this episode. Revealed in her prison, playing piano and basically hammering home that the Sherlock finale was a dry run for this season of Doctor Who.

Missy claims that her life doesn't revolve around the Doctor - which is blatantly untrue in itself - but her claim to have defeated the Monks in an earlier adventure also rings false. Why would the Master care if the Monks have control of some planet? Far more likely that she once aided them in taking over a world, and she is relating how they were defeated. After all, the Monk's memory control technology isn't all that dissimilar to the hypnotic network the Master used back when (s)he became Prime Minister. And do we think, for a second, that Missy is really crying over all her many victims? Not on your nelly.

The cast are, by this stage, strong enough together to keep the episode watchable up until the end, but they're carrying all the work and the plot is doing nothing. It's fine having a serviceable resolution to a story, but this seems particularly uninspired. Bill remembering her mum to save the day through her emotional strength is far too much like Clara's "blown in on a leaf" story, which wasn't very convincing when they used it back in season seven. And then - it's all over, the Monks bugger off, and everyone forgets any of it ever happened, in another dissatisfying retcon. Although they've turned out as more style than substance, I hope the Monks do return to the series, because there must be something more interesting to be done with them than this.

Links and references: Nardole uses a "Tarovian nerve grip" to disable a soldier, blatantly riffing on Star Trek's Vulcan nerve pinch and also harking back to the Venusian martial arts favoured by the third Doctor. His jokey aside about his training and his new hand sounds very Doctorish, in fact. Imagine David Tennant delivering those lines as the Doctor and tell me it sounds any different.

Maketh the man: I really like the Doctor's new raggedy denim coat.

The Regeneration Game: So, the Doctor is now seemingly able to control his regenerations to such an extent that he can emit enough regenerative energy to put on a light show. Apart from the fact that this was rather pointless in story, seeing that Bill doesn't actually know what regeneration is yet, it raises some big questions about how much control has over his regenerations. If he can use the energy with such precision, why couldn't he just fix his eyes himself? Unless, of course, those weren't blanks when she shot him, and the Doctor has actually begun his regeneration, which would actually be a brilliant way to end the run.

Best line: I should probably choose the Doctor's rant against fascism and fundamentalism, but I can't help but love Bill to Nardole: "I'm gonna beat the sh-!"

WHO REVIEW: 10-7 "The Pyramid at the End of the World"

After last week's strong opening, part two of the "Monks Trilogy" was something of a disappointment. While it definitely had its moments and was quite an enjoyable episode overall, "The Pyramid at the End of the World" failed to hold together logically. And yes, I know, it's Doctor Who, and that frequently fails to hold together logically. However, it's one thing when an outlandish setting in a haunted house or some other galaxy doesn't quite make sense; it's another when an ostensibly realistic story is riddled with logical flaws.

Which is a shame. The story is well-structured, with an escalating threat that has a palpable sense of inevitability about it. The use of the Doomsday Clock is clichéd, true, but it works because the Monks are using it as a blatant attempt to unsettle the assembled humans. It's also a potent reflection of the times - the clock starts at three minutes to midnight here as a sign of impending apocalypse, but the real life committee that sets the time of the hypothetical clock have recently set it to two-and-a-half minutes to. 

Perhaps that's the problem though. It looks good and has some potent imagery, but the story doesn't hold up to even the lightest scrutiny. I love the idea that armageddon will be the result of human careless and incompetence, and let's be honest, that's pretty likely. The events in the lab run alongside the seemingly more important events in the pyramid and the TARDIS, and it's never anything other than obvious what they're leading to. It's that inevitability that makes it compelling. It's the logical flaws that damage this half of the story so much, though. There are simply too many of them piling up. Is there really no one who can take over this extremely delicate work from the hungover guy and the woman with no glasses? Are there no safeguards built in to prevent a mistyped element being put into the mix? While it's easy to sympathise with poor Douglas about the hangover, there's no excuse for his staggering stupidity: taking off his mask, leaving the airlock door open. For that matter, what kind of airlock allows both doors to be opened simultaneously? Have neither of the writers ever seen an airlock? This lab, with its potentially deadly biological samples that must be kept in strict quarantine, vents into the atmosphere periodically. The list goes on - it's too many little problems to shrug off, and makes it all feel too contrived.

There's clearly some interesting thoughts behind the Monks' plans and their strange modus operandi, but it's not clear what those thoughts are. I'm hoping the final third of the story will provide some perspective. There's a case to be made that this is an anti-democratic story, or, at least, a story that examines the potential problems of democracy. The episode ends with Bill making what is, objectively, the wrong choice (although it's a choice she makes out of faith in the Doctor, faith that is not unfounded. He will, after all, save the world again next week as she believes he will). This comes in the same episode that establishes that Trump is the POTUS in the Doctor Who world. The flaw with democracy is that anyone can make the wrong decision and send us down the wrong road, and we've seen plenty of that in the last twelve months. 

This, in a story that brings back the Doctor as the President of Earth. He's brought in by the Secretary General of the UN, and doesn't go unchallenged by his human colleagues, and in the end, doesn't get to make the decision that seals the world's fate. Nonetheless, he's back in an unelected position that even he didn't want. It worked fine when it was a one-off joke in Death in Heaven, but I'm not keen on the Doctor being able to step in as ruler of the world at any time. It's different when it's Gallifrey (of which he has been President three times now), that's a fantasy world. Putting him in charge of the Earth gives him too much potential power in any contemporary-set story.

The Monks remain opaque. There's some fascinating insight into their psychology, although it raises more questions than answers. Their appearance is apparently their attempt to pass as human, raising some questions about just what sort of creatures they are really (including the obvious: have we met them already?) Their need for consent to invade the Earth is intriguing in itself, their equating consent with love more so. There's no clear meaning here, and again, I hope that "The Lie of the Land" sheds some light on matters. Selecting three military leaders is a poor move if they do not allow decisions made by way of tactical judgment. They have, after all, modelled all this in their simulation - shouldn't they know exactly who to bring in to give them the right response? Charitably, we might assume it's all calculated to leave Bill there at the right moment for her to hand over the world to save the Doctor. There's also the obvious difficulty when using consent as a theme in SF - it's a heavy metaphor. "Fear is not consent" immediately suggests a rape allegory, something that isn't held up by anything else in the story but is the first thought of almost everyone watching (but not those, apparently, writing it).

This trilogy of episodes is the modern equivalent of the old six-parter, and they always had difficulty keeping momentum in the middle. The only other recent equivalents are the final triptych from last season, and further back, the Master trilogy at the end of series three. Like those, the success of "Pyramid" will depend on how the story holds together as a whole.

Thoughts on casting: The regulars, who continue to be brilliant together, own this episode, which has a fairly forgettable guest cast. The exception is Rachel Denning as Erica, who makes for a very likeable and relatable scientist. High praise is due to the BBC for casting an actor of reduced stature without it ever being part of the role or mentioned in dialogue - exactly the sort of equal representation we should be working towards.

Tony Garner tries his best as Douglas but, since he only gets to play "hungover tit," has little to work with in a dramatic setting. A pity, this, because he's a decent actor. He's been in plenty of things, but I'll remember him best for My Parents Are Aliens (in which he was the alien foster parent who didn't regenerate).

Also, it's come to light that Sean Pertwee was up for appearing in the series, but couldn't because of commitments to Gotham, another good argument for the cancellation of that show. Assuming they weren't going to ask him to reprise his dad's role, surely he was originally going to play the soldier actually played by the quite similar Nigel Hastings.

General stray thoughts: Given the apparently random choice by both the aliens and the production team to make the spaceship appear as a pyramid, is there anything more to it than "what looks cool and imposing?" On the same lines, is there any actual limit to the Monks' powers, beyond "whatever the story needs right this minute?"

Also, where were UNIT during all this?

Best lines: 

"You look like corpses."

"You are corpses to us."

This review is for my sister Rebecca, who already covered the most salient points.

WHO REVIEW: 10-6 - "Extremis"

SPOILERS!


Review after the break

WHO REVIEW: 10-5 - "Oxygen"

This review contains big SPOILERS! Click below the break to read.

WHO REVIEW: 10-4 - "Knock Knock"

Series ten, so far, represents a real return to form for Doctor Who. Not every episode is an instant classic, but we don't need twelve unmitigated wonder-episodes. Good, solid episodes of Who that may not be perfect but give us plenty to enjoy and talk about. "Knock Knock" is not, by any stretch of the imagination, an original piece of work, but it's supremely effective as a chilling, family-friendly horror story.

"Knock Knock" is, really, a very straightforward haunted house tale, with the twist being a sci-fi explanation for the "ghosts." This isn't remotely original in itself; Doctor Who did this back in 1989 with Ghost Light, and plenty of other productions and stories have taken a similar approach. It's sci-fi by the back way in; a fantasy episode through-and-through with some minor scientific trappings. In fact, I don't think we've had a less scientific episode of Doctor Who for quite some time. It wouldn't have played out much differently if the woodlice had been replaced with actual dryads.

There's a slight theme developing here, with the Doctor, for the second episode, admitting he's not sure if the strange-creature-of-the-week is terrestrial or alien, not much caring, and just getting on with taking care of the problem. It's fun to see him theorise about gaseous entities and dryads and whatnot and then happily leave without ever finding out what he was actually dealing with. Earlier Doctors would be driven mad by not knowing.

This is another fine episode for the Doctor and Bill's developing friendship. Every companion needs an episode that brings them back to Earth, giving them the opportunity to use their new time-traveller's nous in their own environment. This is Bill's, and it reinforces the generational gap between her and the Doctor. For the first time since Eccleston's tenure, the Doctor is being presented as explicitly of the older generation to the companion. Even Twelve and Clara didn't have this, being presented on a more equal footing due to Clara's ever-growing importance to the Doctor's life. The Doctor is positioned explicitly as a teacher to Bill, and while they're friends, he's exactly the wrong sort of person to be hanging around her new digs with her studenty friends. It's the first time he's been called "Grandad" and it's been more than just a throwaway joke. There's a reinforcement of the traditional Doctor/companion relationship, that of an old man and his long line of granddaughter substitutes, with the more recent romantic element removed from the equation by the actors' ages and the companion's sexuality. Whether this is building up to Susan's reintroduction as hoped, or just a return to first principles, it's a new dynamic for the fans of the modern series.

While Bill gets to run her own strand of the storyline and acts as a capable adventurer, none of her housemates are especially interesting. All likeable enough, and the cast all put in perfectly good performances, but none of them have enough time spent on them to be anything other than bug-bait. Only Harry (Colin Ryan) gets to do much, acting a short-term substitute companion to the Doctor and coming pretty well out of it (he just wants to get out of there, which, on the face of it, is a very sensible option). Otherwise, though, these kids are there just to get killed off, which they do very effectively, although they are also miraculously restored at the end, and while this is a fantasy story, I find it harder to believe that people can get better from being devoured by crustaceans or absorbed into wood.

Any episode like this stands on its performances, and the stand-out one here is, of course, David Suchet. One of our most beloved actors, having him appear in an episode of Doctor Who is a huge treat for fans. As the Landlord, he runs the gamut from respectable yet mysterious, through to sinister and quietly threatening, to, eventually, childlike and pitiful. Also deserving of praise is Mariah Gale as Eliza, who manages to give a moving performance from beneath layers of prosthetics and CG animation. As for the twist about their relationship, I feel it works well, adding a stronger emotional element to the story than it otherwise had.

While there's not much of originality in the set-up, it's hard to fault a story about a man-eating house for its creep factor, especially when it's done as well as here. The effects and soundscape come together beautifully to create a very unsettling episode. If you have access to BBC iPlayer, I recommend watching the Doctor Who Enhanced version, which boasts 3D "binaural" sound. I'm not up on the technical aspects, but it does make for an immersive and disquieting experience. On the visual side of things, the creepy-crawlies are bound to give plenty of people the creeps, although their most effective moment, crawling into Shereen's foot, was cribbed directly from the 1999 version of The Mummy, which did it far better. Although, in fairness, that would hardly be acceptable for the family audience the series is going for.

The episode is also replete with foreshadowing. Bill learns in passing that the Doctor is a Time Lord, which might set up some more of his kind turning up later in the season, while his almost accidental mention of regeneration is clear preparation for Twelve's upcoming departure. Is the Doctor aware that regeneration is on the way, or is his saddened look at the mention a more general malaise? Then there's the biggest revelation about the contents of the Vault yet. I'm going to put my pound in and say it's Missy in there, but we'll find out soon enough.

WHO REVIEW: 10-3 - "Thin Ice"

Sarah Dollard has delivered a script that, when brought to life by some of the best acting and design we've seen on the series in years, has all the makings of a minor classic. Not an anniversary special, not a barn-storming finale, just a little, meat-and-potatoes episode that turned out to be something truly wonderful.

Firstly, there's a good, old-fashioned deductive adventure for the Doctor and his companion, working out just what those lights under the ice are. That back-to-basics approach of the first few episodes is working wonders for the season so far. The tried-and-tested formula of present-future-past for the new companion works, so it makes sense to bring it out again, with the new girl's reactions to the set-up being the newer element. The BBC is never better than when it's creating a period drama, and the production team excels in this episode. The frozen Thames is so believable, it's astonishing; a remarkable work of set design, backed up by a bustling crowd of extras in period dress. No one does this stuff better. The model work is also impressive - how many viewers realised that the Doctor who takes a swim was not Peter Capaldi, but a lifelike sculpture of him instead? Everyone's skills come together to make a truly effective setting.

I find some strange satisfaction in that the Doctor's detective work never actually gets as far as explaining what the creature under the ice actually is. He's far more concerned in the why's and the who's than the what-on-earths. We never find out whether the creature is alien or earthly, quite what its little piscine companions get out of their symbiotic deal or just how long the beast has been there. It's fun to speculate, but it's not important right now. It's not the point of the story.

Because, as with the frozen Thames, there's a lot more going on under the surface. This is a story about morality, and especially, exploitation, in its many forms. It's Bill's turn to question the Doctor's ethics, ethics that have been coded by millennia of experience and an alien viewpoint. It brings to mind episodes such as "The Fires of Pompeii," but it's better written than an argument about going against the flow of history. The Doctor doesn't give a damn about that here (in fact, he openly alters history without the least regret). It's far more like the fourth Doctor at his most alien, in Pyramids of Mars, brushing off the death of an individual because there isn't time for outrage. The Doctor's logic at the situation is faultless, but it's so... unpalatable to someone like Bill. It's also the first time, I think, that we've really focused on how a companion reacts to her first immediate encounter with death. Mostly, we've seen the difficult truth of confronting death when a companion has faced someone close to them: Rose and her father, Clara and Danny. Bill doesn't know young Spider for more than a few minutes, and yet his death is intimately and profoundly upsetting for her. It's a brutally realistic picture, and one that makes the Doctor's position more believable. Not as an alien, but as an old man who has seen (and caused) death time and again. It's someone from a cosy civilian life facing death alongside a soldier.

The episode flirts with the race issue when Bill first steps out onto the ice. Of course she's going to be worried about how people react to her. She'll have experienced so much shit from white people in the 21st century, let alone going into the 19th. (We don't have time to explore attitudes to her sexuality, which is a pity, but one 45-minute episode can't cover everything.) Again, it recalls an earlier episode. Martha's first trip in the TARDIS was to Shakespearean London, and she was similarly concerned. However, this time it's handled with so much more finesse. As much as I loved "The Shakespeare Code," I hated the Doctor's dismissal of Martha's concerns. "I'm not even human," and "Just act like you own the place." Very easy to say when you look and sound exactly like a white Englishman. The twelfth Doctor accepts Bill's concerns and admits it will be dangerous, but persuades her it's worth the risk if she wants to experience this life.

Of course, later on the script stops flirting with the issue and goes right for it, in what is, for me, the most triumphant scene in the series since "No sir, all thirteen!" After lecturing Bill on maintaining detachment and controlling her temper (Peter Capaldi lecturing on controlling your temper!) the Doctor smacks the bastard Lord Sutcliffe square in the mouth for his racist tirade against Bill. It's beautiful. (And anyone who wants to counter it with "But the Doctor's a pacifist!" I suggest you actually watch virtually any episode of the series broadcast since 1963 and question where you got that idea.)

From the punch, we move rapidly to that most powerful speech. There's been a lot of rubbish written about how the BBC has a "left wing bias," which I find bizarre considering its continual towing of the line under the Tory government. The writers of Doctor Who though, they're left wing, and this is the moment it comes to the fore. That fantastic, socialist, anti-elitist speech against Sutcliffe and his exploitative ways... it's what this series is made for. How old do you have to be before you can make a speech like that? You just need to be a 37-year-old Australian scriptwriter. Sarah Dollard should be bloody proud.

For this script is not about monsters, or fancy coats and top hats, or Regency colour. It's about exploitation, and how it drives industry and "progress." Exploitation of other races, of children, of the poor, and yes, of animals, be they real creatures or a fabulous sea monster. An absolute triumph.

WHO REVIEW: 10-2 - "Smile"

There's a very odd structure to this episode. I appreciate the more relaxed pace that we're looking to get with this season, and "Smile" in particular takes a very languid stroll through the story for the first half hour or so. It had the feel of a sixties or early seventies episode, particularly the choice to have only the Doctor and Bill for much of the runtime. This is how serials used to start - twenty-five minutes of investigating a new location, possibly with only the regulars, with the nature of the story only becoming apparent in time. On the other hand, "Smile" actually begins with a scene that lays out the central idea of the episode. There are killer mini-robots that tear you to bits if you can't convince them you're happy. The reasoning behind it isn't clear, but the basic idea is. Going in, we as an audience have a much better idea of what is going on than the Doctor and Bill. We just have to wait for them to catch up.

Fortunately, Capaldi and Mackie are more than capable of carrying the bulk of the episode on their own backs with no supporting cast. There's a very relaxed interaction between them, and one that feels earnt, as the Doctor and Bill have already known each other for some months by this point. These travels in time and space are merely the next big step in their friendship, and it's always fun to see a new companion's first outing to a future world or alien realm. It also helps that the visuals for this episode are so striking. The colony itself is filmed at the City of Arts and Sciences, a huge cultural centre in Valencia. It's a truly remarkable location, which, combined with the rolling crop fields for the outer parts of the colony, makes this episode visually unique. There's never been an episode of Doctor Who that looks quite like this.

Equally, the emoji "robots," that act as interfaces for the tiny, mechanical Vardies, are a striking visual hook for the episode. It makes the episode feel both old-fashioned and up-to-date. Depending on how our culture and language develop, in ten years this episode will either look remarkably prescient or hopelessly dated. Other than the emojibots, though, there's nothing new here. It's mixed up in fun new ways, but it's still highly derivative, with elements of The Happiness Patrol, The Ark in Space and sundry science fiction stories coming together to create what feels, at times, like a kid-friendly episode of Black Mirror. That's not to say it's not a well-written or enjoyable episode; some of the best stories are derivative. Still, there's something of a "best of" feel to this one.

Peter Capaldi is scarier when he's smiling broadly than when he's scowling furiously at people. Pearl Mackie is just a joy to watch in her interactions with him. "Smile" is a pretty great episode up until the last ten minutes or so, when we realise the Doctor has been astonishingly dense by not checking if there's anyone alive in the spacecraft. (And sorry to disappoint, those who thought the Doctor had finally gone full Malcolm Tucker, but he shouts "Pods!" not "Bollocks!") The crew wake up, quintupling the cast but proving to be mostly pointless. The celebrated appearance by Ralf Little turns out to be less than ten minutes of him playing an aggressively stupid person. It's a shame, because the final resolution is pretty sound. It even manages to make the much-maligned reset button a virtue. That little dip aside, "Smile" is a fairly strong episode.

WHO REVIEW: 10-1 - The Pilot

It takes a certain cheek to call an episode “The Pilot” at the beginning of a programme's tenth, or even thirty-sixth, season. It's a statement of intent: Steven Moffat has called the episode a reboot, and while this is overstating it, there's a clear design to make this a new starting point for the series. To an extent, this works. We've got a new companion, who acts as the viewpoint figure the series has been missing for some time, through whose eyes we discover the elements of the programme. The kids who started watching Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant are grown-up now, and a new generation of children are starting to tune in. Doctor Who has a sort of soft-reboot built into its concept, with a continually changing roster of companions and Doctors, and the occasional slate-clean is good for its continuation.

On the other hand, this is the last season for both Capaldi and Moffat. The decision to make this a new starting point seems willfully perverse with Chris Chibnall taking over as showrunner, and a new Doctor joining at the same time. While there are callbacks a-plenty in this episode, it works reasonably well as something standalone. On the other hand, during the upcoming series, we have Ice Warriors, retro-Cybermen and two versions of the Master to look forward to. All wonderful fun, but hardly a fresh start.

There were several attempts to bring back Doctor Who in the long gap between the TV movie and “Rose,” and more than one of them had the Doctor grounded, living and working as a professor in some dusty old college. (Usually, they were proposed with an eye to having an older Tom Baker return to the role, and Moffat's already done that.) It's a perfect set-up for an introduction to the character, putting him in a position of authority but also making him interesting, a little distant, and with plenty of opportunities to impress. It's a nice touch making Bill, not a student who's impressed him with her intellect, but another outsider who's impressed him with her enthusiasm (and also recognising that not everyone can afford to go to university).

I wasn't keen on Bill based on her brief appearances in trailers and so on. She just came across as gobby and a bit dense. It goes to show how poorly done those trailers were. Pearl Mackie is extremely likeable as Bill, and by the episode's end I was thoroughly sold on her. Bill is, admittedly, a bit of a re-run of Rose (with a touch of eighties Ace thrown in), but she's different enough to make an impression herself. It's gratifiying to have a character who's genre savvy, not only pointing out the obvious sci-fi-ness of everything that's going on around her, but immediately rationalising everything as a clever effect. After all, a clever knock-through is a much more logical explanation than a dimensionally transcendental timeship. Also, although everyone has made way too big a deal of it, it's great to have a companion who's happily, uncomplicatedly gay. Plus having an actor of colour, playing someone in foster care... there are lots of different ways to live a life in Britain today. I didn't care much for Bill's jokes about models and fat women; those were low shots.

I'm also now completely sold on Nardole. He works perfectly as an assistant and valet to the Doctor. He exists as a sort-of cushion between the Doctor and the outside world, easing his interactions. It's looks like they've been good for one another, with the Doctor's hardened exterior softening and Nardole becoming more Doctorish (his explanation of the TARDIS' nature is cribbed almost exactly from the fourth Doctor's explanation in The Robots of Death).

The alien threat for the episode is a clever one, albeit highly derivative (we've seen living water in “The Waters of Mars,” a mimic in “Midnight” and a ship in need of someone with wanderlust to become its pilot in “The Lodger”). It's an arresting visual and a witty but easy-to-grasp concept, and leads to a clever, non-violent resolution. It drives me mad that both Bill and the Doctor take an age to realise what's wrong with the reflection. I understand that the script can only move as fast as the slowest member in the audience, but Bill's meant to be intelligent and the Doctor's a genius. It's infuriating.

The problem with being sic-fi savvy, of course, is expecting storylines to go a certain way. I was convinced that Heather (a lovely performance from Stephanie Hyam) was going to be an alien of some kind, just as Bill was convinced that the star in her eye was evidence of an alien possession. In the event, she was an ordinary girl, until she fell victim to the sinister puddle (and why would you want to get a “defect” like that fixed? It looks amazing!) We were also forewarned that the Daleks were going to appear in this episode, so naturally I spent much of the episode wondering how they were involved with the whole thing. I assumed that the spacecraft that left the oil and scorch marks was of Dalek origin (the last time we saw a landing pattern like that was in Remembrance of the Daleks). As it happens, the Daleks were nothing but a brief sideshow, presumably only included so as to incorporate the little scene from over a year ago that introduced Bill. Quite why the Doctor thinks it's a good idea to hide out in the midst of a Dalek assault isn't clear, but it's a fun aside and drops that last essential element of the series into the episode.

“The Pilot” is the best opening episode for quite some time, probably since “The Eleventh Hour” way back in 2010, which remains one of the best episodes in the revived series. As much as I enjoyed much of the last season, the series needs a shot in the arm, and maybe a new companion was just what it's been waiting for. I am optimistic for the remainder of Capaldi and Moffat's last run. We shall see what is kept within the Vault, and why it's important enough to keep the Doctor grounded for fifty years, although I hope it doesn't override the individual episodes' stories.

Title Tattle: “The Pilot,” although clever, is the most generic possible title for an episode. There must be a thousand American series that have begun with an episode called “Pilot,” even when they're not actually pilot episodes. It is, however, a better name than the working title “A Star in her Eye.”

Links: The Daleks are seen battling the Movellans, a race of androids we saw in 1979's Destiny of the Daleks. By this stage, the two armies had become locked in stalemate due to their logical natures (it was suggested that the Daleks were, at this point in their history, entirely mechanical). It's a cute little aside for fans, and in no way intrusive for normal people. They just look like fun disco aliens. The Doctor states that they've gone into the past here, although that probably means from the perspective of their previous stop-off, 23 million years in the future.

Among the many little callbacks in the Doctor's study are photographs of two of the most important women in his life: his late wife River, and his (presumably late) granddaughter Susan. Capaldi has made no secret of his desire to see Susan return to the series, so perhaps this is foreshadowing of her eventual arrival later in the season.

The Doctor's moonlighting as a lecturer calls back to his old friend Professor Chronotis, a Time Lord from the previous generation who retired to live as a don at Cambridge. This was in Douglas Adams's notoriously unfinished serial Shada, many elements of which he reworked for his Dirk Gently books. He also pitched a story which would have seen the Doctor retire from adventuring and settle down on Earth, possibly as a tutor. (Adams also wrote Destiny of the Daleks. Any Hitchhikers references I didn't spot?)

The Doctor again tries to wipe his friend's memory, and again gets shouted down. It's good to see that Moffat clearly thinks that this is pretty unconscionable behaviour on his part. It calls back to the end of the previous season, where he intended to erase Clara's memory of him, only to get the tables turned. This was almost two years ago now and the missus had completely forgotten about it. This is the difference between people who watch things normally and people like me.

Best line: “No one's from space. I'm from a planet, like everyone else.”

I've been shouting this at sci-fi shows for years.