The Parting of the Ways

This is it then. The Ninth Doctor's last hurrah. It begins brilliantly: attacking the Daleks head on, rescuing Rose, mocking the Emperor and then skedaddling away. It's a super-charged couple of minutes that show Eccleston's Doctor at his best: active, energised, wound up to throw his weight around. But having darted back inside the TARDIS, he rests his head against the closed doors and seems to crumple: the heroism is a facade, and he is smaller on the inside.

It would appear that the Daleks' threat is insurmountable. Both the Doctor and Jack seem to think so anyway, and glumly set about the macho business of dying in vain: Jack recruits some TV producers into an anti-Dalek army, and the Doctor packs Rose off back home so he can try and build a weapon that he won't ever use.

Why is it that he doesn't activate the delta wave? I know he regrets the loss of Gallifrey, but surely it was the right thing to do at the time? What stops the delta wave being the right answer this time? There are other factors to consider: for example, the people of Earth are innocent victims, whilst the Time Lords (according to The End of Time) were a very unsavoury lot, and probably as bad as the Daleks. But there's certainly no other solution available aboard Satellite 5, and not firing it means the Daleks will conquer countless worlds, starting with Earth. Would this Doctor, a "coward, every time" have allowed the Daleks to win the Time War? Has he given up now?

It doesn't satisfy. It doesn't ring true, because I want the Doctor to rise up above the impossible situation, to do something brilliantly clever and save the day. And he can't do that. He is incapable. Not because of survivor's guilt, or psychological trauma or principled pacifism. He can't do it because Rose is coming to do it for him.

Yes, plucky old Rose has smashed her way into the TARDIS' mystic glove box and turned herself into a supreme Time being, arriving just in time to wipe the whole Dalek fleet from existence with a wave of her glowy hand. I understand that the point is to show how marvellous Rose is; how the simple shopgirl has been transformed by her travels; how her bravery, passion, obstinacy have all been revealed so that now she can save the Earth. I just don't like it.

Of course, this is all reflection. This is thinking about it, having it washing coldly around in my head for years and years. When I watched it, even just now when I watched it again, none of these things crossed my mind. I was wrapped up in the power and drama of it, the swell of the music, the swirling lights. It doesn't matter that the Bad Wolf thing makes no sense whatsoever, or that it should be the Doctor that gets to be the hero; the emotional story of these two characters and how they've affected each other is just fantastic.

The regeneration helps. It makes it grander, somehow providing more leeway for the Rose/Bad Wolf silliness. And the death of the Doctor is a massive strength. What other show, revived or not, could lose its lead actor at the end of the first season and not be seen as weak or troubled? Here the very act of change offers continuity. The regeneration means that the show is alive and well, powering forwards; that Tennant completely nails those first few seconds of the Tenth Doctor is just a bonus.

William could only manage a 9 for this, apparently annoyed that Captain Jack had been left behind. I think he just thinks it's rude of the Doctor not to wait for him. Chris had no qualms: "Epic. Not funny, but scary, sad and emotional. 10."

And what do they think of the Ninth Doctor? "He was great, funny," said Chris. "A really good actor too." "It was interesting how we was recovering from the Time War," said William. "It was a slow process, and he wasn't even fully recovered by the end. But he was a really good Doctor."

I think so too. Watching the series again, I've realised what a brave performance it is from Eccleston. So much of his Doctor's character is an act for the benefit of those around him, and he only slowly and reluctantly opens up to Rose (and us) over the thirteen episodes, and never fully. Rightly, the central mystery of this series has been the Doctor himself.


NEXT TIME...

Bad Wolf

When did the return of Doctor Who become an unqualified success? If the ratings are any guide, then the answer is pretty much straightaway given that Rose was watched by over 10 million people, and a second series was commissioned just days later. If, instead, we looked at the reviews? Well, they were pretty good to begin with, but it wasn't until Dalek that the critics reached in unison for the superlatives. Personally, it was only when I saw The Empty Child that the tiny anxious voice in my head went quiet: I no longer suffered the insane pessimism of the fan who fears relegation even as his team fly up the table, and allowed myself to dream of silverware.

But it was about to get better. What I'd never anticipated was the buzz: completely normal people talking about Doctor Who. In the street, at bus stops, in the office, at the school gate, the Not-We, grown men and women were talking about my show, discussing what had happened, what was going to happen. It would happen again, later (the world went bananas after The Stolen Earth), but that first time, that week, between Bad Wolf and The Parting of the Ways was surreal and wonderful.

Most of it was down to that cliffhanger, which goes straight to the top of our list of, er, three. It's unusual in that it is triumphant, rather than terrifying, but it is all the better for it. All this series, as we have seen, the Doctor has been a little off his game, content to let others play the hero. If it has all been building up to this then it has been completely worth it because, finally, the Doctor gets his moment: seizing the initiative from the Daleks, scaring them witless, making Rose repeatedly flare her nostrils in excitement and getting our blood racing too. It's a rousing, shivers-down-the-neck denouement that leaves us desperate for next time.

To be honest, it almost doesn't matter what happened in the rest of the episode because that ending is so good. But then, because it is so good, on reflection I can't help but think that the rest of it isn't good enough.

There's some real fun to be had with the Doctor and companions trapped in the Land of Reality Television (Bad Wolf is a 21st century The Mind Robber, discuss), but after the first viewing it becomes obvious that not much is happening - with the star villains not due to show up until the last five minutes the episode feels like it is just killing time, waiting for the fireworks. Still, Lynda-with-a-Y is.. sweet and yes, the thought of her being a replacement for Rose was convincing enough to make me wonder at the time. Most of all, though, it's tiny little things that I love. The Male and Female Programmers (until I checked on Wikipedia, it never occurred to me that they didn't have names) are a delightful pair, lightly sketched but acted beautifully (especially Jo Stone-Fewings) in such a way that we feel we know so much about them. Bear With Me, completely fictitious but it doesn't matter because the Doctor and Lynda's enthusiasm is infectious and convincing. Jack finding the TARDIS in the white room is beautiful, old and blue and enormous against the blank space - it's a three second shot but it is a perfect mixture of the familiar and the incongruous. And the introduction of the Daleks is excellent - the signature thromthrom-thromthrom sound effect fading in, the distorted reflection in the walls. It's a perfectly weighted reveal, only slightly ruined by Boom Town's Next Time trailer which spoiled the whole thing (fine for TV transmission, but very unfortunate on DVD/Netflix).

William probably remembered anyway, but Chris was in the dark completely, prepared to believe that Rose was dead and ignorant of next week's regeneration. I can't help but think that's the right way to do it, but more on that next time perhaps. They both gave this a 10, almost too excited to elaborate. Luckily for them they don't have to wait a week for the next episode - but they missed out on all that wonderful buzz.


NEXT TIME...

Boom Town

It was strange living in Cardiff. My girlfriend moved there a few months after we started going out and I eventually went too. We bought a house, time passed. We got married; William came along and then, the strangest thing, Doctor Who arrived. In Cardiff.

When I was a kid, all television, and therefore Doctor Who, happened in the Big House in London, Television Centre, so far away and remote that it might as well have been another dimension. The idea that any programme could be made in my vicinity was an alien concept. That Doctor Who was returning was incredible enough - but when its universe started to materialise around me, I couldn't quite believe my luck.

The place where you live always feels like the centre of the universe because that's where you are, walking around seeing and hearing things, experiencing existence and filtering reality through your location. But all of a sudden Cardiff became the centre of all things Doctor Who and, for a while, it was weird. Nice weird. At work, people would come back from lunch and say "Oh they're out filming today!" as if they were talking about the weather. Production meetings would be held in hotels down the street from our offices and I would walk past Noel Clarke or Camille Coduri on my way to the sandwich shop on the corner. I even went out to have a look at the filming of Rose, a night shoot on St. Mary's Street doubling for central London. Me and some other stunned fanboys watched the TARDIS prop being assembled on the pavement outside Howells.

"Is it a bit too.. big?" one of them whispered, full of what Gareth Roberts calls 'anticipointment'. But I was just trying to understand how it was that the TARDIS had appeared in front of my eyes, not on a television, but in my real waking life. In Cardiff.

Then, on my lunch break one day in W.H.Smith's, Billie Piper walked past me. It was February and she, like me, was looking for a Valentine's Day card. I didn't say anything of course, she was busy making Doctor Who, presumably on her lunch break too and I wasn't going to interrupt or jeopardise that magical process. Then I realised that they were probably filming close by, and that she was in costume. This was Rose Tyler, walking the streets of Cardiff. Where I lived.

They were filming just around the corner, at City Hall, working on this episode, Boom Town, which is set in, er, modern day Cardiff. My wife worked at the Wales Millenium Centre and called me to say that the TARDIS had been parked outside all day by the fountain. The fictional universe had broken through the Rift into our real lives.

We went back to Cardiff for a week this summer, partly to show the boys. We walked around and I pointed out landmarks, real and imaginary. "That's where I worked. That's where Rose worked. That's where Wilf's newspaper stand was. That's the castle where your mother and I got married - it also doubled as the Tower of London in The Christmas Invasion."

We had a good look around the Bay, ate in the restaurants, went to the Doctor Who Experience of course. It was wonderful to be back. It's changed so much in just a few years, but it still feels like home - and Doctor Who is very much part of that feeling.

It was all very fresh in the mind when we watched Boom Town, which was lovely. Throughout, the boys chorused "Been there! Been there!" every time they recognised something. There was even a hiss of indignation from them when Margaret announced that Cardiff Castle would have to be demolished to make way for her power station - that was messing with us directly. There were lots of laughs, the loudest yet, when Mickey clattered and stumbled through the corridors of City Hall and they laughed again when Margaret tried her tricks on the Doctor over dinner. They both could only give it a nine. William said it was "complicated" and raised "interesting questions. Is she a baddy? Is it her fault?" Chris said he liked the ending, but both of them were repulsed at the description of the Raxacoricofallapatorian death penalty.

The great thing about Boom Town (other than seeing Cardiff on screen, properly, on BBC1) is Eccleston's performance. Annette Badland is great as Margaret: by turns duplicitous, sincere, evil and troubled - and her scenes with the Doctor are excellent. But Eccleston is just amazing. Those tight close ups over dinner: every twitch of his face, every blink, is deliberate and calculated. It's intense and compelling and completely lacking in any crazed histrionics or bellowing. Everything is perfectly gauged and full of nuance. He is superb.

But then the TARDIS coughs up some magic light that turns the baddy into an egg and saves everyone the trouble of having to answer complicated questions. Which is a shame. It's a great ending for Margaret, and it is right that second chances should be on offer - that's a compassionate Doctorly thing to do and it won praise from all three of us. Except that the Doctor doesn't do anything to achieve this outcome and the TARDIS is transformed into some sort of genie's lamp, bestowing wishes on anyone who can rub it up the right way. It's a bit rubbish.

This is also where the rot begins to set in with Rose, sadly. Up until now she's been great, but this episode shows us how she, Jack and the Doctor look from the outside: smug, self-centred and silly. It's a brief glimpse, during which Mickey momentarily becomes the audience identification figure, but in the future, when the Doctor and Rose seem to be enjoying themselves too much, we are going to remember how this felt.

Well, I am, anyway.


NEXT TIME...

The Doctor Dances

And this is when the Doctor Who-ometer exploded.

William gave it an 11. "The saddest story [a mother losing her child] becomes the best day ever!" he said. Christopher, in measured tones, gave it a score of "a billion". "It made me happy," he said. And what else is there to say? This episode is simply joyous. I'm completely fine with their scores. If nothing else, the 10s they gave Aliens of London make a lot more sense now. 

The Doctor Dances is an explosion. A sudden outrush of love and joy (and nanogenes) after the oppressive darkness of war and death threatened to end everything.

We should see it coming, but we don't. Just as Nancy, clinging to life in a nightmare London without hope, can't imagine that the war could ever be won. This exquisite moment should tip us off that a happy ending is on the way, but it doesn't. Rather than giving Nancy hope, that scene makes us see her despair all too clearly. It's in this scene that stiff upper lips start to tremble, and our British reserve will be another thing that gets swept away in the upcoming explosion of emotions. I cry every time. 

Nancy has to step forward and declare herself, but it's the Doctor that pushes her. He gets his own moment too, light blazing from his hands in the darkness and everybody lives! At last, the Doctor is in. "Twenty years till pop music! Don't forget the Welfare State!" He describes the broad, sunlit uplands of the post-war social compact, the rewards due to a generation that has given its all: the NHS, the Beatles and Doctor Who. It's basically the Olympic opening ceremony, isn't it?

And as the Doctor is looking forwards, Doctor Who is looking backwards, not just at the war, but at itself as part of the cultural reaction to that conflict. Everybody knows that Terry Nation invented the Daleks as Nazis, just as Mastermind's black chair was inspired by Gestapo interrogation techniques. Here, at the height of the threat to Britain, the reborn Doctor fights for diversity and individuality and love against the threat of enforced homogeneity, all of us looking the same, and all empty inside.

But before all that there's so much more to love. "Go to your room!" is one of the best cliffhanger resolutions we've had: it's unexpected but immediately makes sense. The Doctor shines today, pilfering Jack's gun and demolishing weapons factories off screen, all the while brandishing a banana ("Bananas are good!") and a sonic screwdriver. Quietly, underneath all this, decades of assumptions about the Doctor's sexuality are being thrown out of the window. A few years earlier this would have caused a nerd riot, a bonfire of the anoraks, but the universe has changed and deep down we all know that the Doctor dances. Even if, post-River Song, you are still in denial about that, take consolation from the fact that this scene gives us the line, wonderfully delivered by Eccleston, "Rose, I'm trying to resonate concrete." Bliss.

I'm looking forward to watching all the other new episodes again, just to see if anything can match this. There's good stuff coming, excellent stuff, but I wonder... The programme is now fifty, but I think even if it should last a hundred years, people will look back and say this was Who's finest hour. 

NEXT TIME...

The Empty Child

During the horrible darkness, before the Doctor returned, I had to make do with the methadone of reading Who. At some point I bought a book that contained a short story called Continuity Errors. I read it and it was utterly brilliant so I read it again and again. It was funny, scary, devilishly clever and completely Doctor Who. I'd never heard of the author, but he was obviously a good thing.

A few years later, I went on holiday for the first time with the woman that I'd eventually marry. We were staying in a cottage in the countryside one cold spring night and Comic Relief was on the telly. And then, weirdly, Doctor Who was on Comic Relief. I don't remember being particularly anxious or excited, but then it was early on in the relationship so I doubt I was making a big deal about the best television show ever. There wouldn't have been any point anyway, because the show was dead and gone and only to be found in the pages of all those old Doctor Who Magazines I had brought with me when I'd moved in. As it started I suppose I might have offered up a silent plea that it not be another Dimensions in Time, but then I saw the writer's name, and I knew it from somewhere... Steven somebody...

That skit was The Curse of Fatal Death and, yes it was funny, no it wasn't another Dimensions in Time and yes it did have some jokes at the show's expense. But it was really very good. When the regenerations began, Jonathan Pryce's Master intoned "Behold, the miracle of the Time Lords!" and I think that's still one of the best moments in Doctor Who ever. Then Hugh Grant turned up and it got even better. It certainly wasn't a spoof - this was authentic Doctor Who, the definite article you might say. Whoever this writer was, he absolutely loved the show and knew how to write it.

By the time The Empty Child came along, Steven Moffat was the guy who wrote Coupling, all those old Doctor Who dots had long since been connected and I had high expectations. It's fair to say that they were exceeded. 

This episode, along with its second part, The Doctor Dances, is one of the best examples of Doctor Who, ever. Sitting here right now, after nine episodes of Series One, it is the best. Dalek was really good, as was Father's Day, but The Empty Child instantly serves up something that's been in short supply recently: mystery. 

What's that crashing into London? Who is that spooky boy? Why are they laughing at the Doctor's question? How did the TARDIS phone just ring? Who's that girl? What's she doing in that house? Who are all these kids? What is wrong with that spooky kid? Who is this American RAF officer with future tech? Did she say 'The Doctor'? What's happened to all these people? Are you my mummy? Are you my mummy? Are you my mummy?

Relentless, breathtaking mystery, pulling the Doctor on, pulling us along behind him, right to the end of the episode. And the gaps between these questions are crammed full, either with jokes ("Give me some Spock!", "I don't know if it's Marxism in action or a West End musical.", "You can talk, you're not even in focus!", "U-boat captain?"), or with scares, shocks and thrills: Rose flying the flag from a barrage balloon, the TARDIS phone ringing, the Child at the front door, Richard Wilson, Richard Wilson's face! 

The emotional moments that this new series has excelled at are on display too, although constrained by a frosty Forties reserve. "Before this war started, I was a father and a grandfather," says Doctor Constantine. "Now I am neither. But I'm still a doctor." It's not the free-flowing tears of Father's Day, but it's all the more heartbreaking because of his apparent sang-froid, because of his sense of duty. Through him, and Nancy and the kids, we get the sense of a whole country, numbed, trying to hold itself together.

Wonderful stuff, practically perfect and the boys were suitably impressed. William didn't hesitate to give it a 10, calling it "really scary", which is very high praise indeed. Chris managed a 9 ("I didn't get all of the jokes..") but was very enthusiastic, the cliffhanger lingering in his mind. When I first saw this, I hadn't been this excited about Doctor Who since Remembrance of the Daleks. I've seen it so often now that it should be boring, total wallpaper. But it's brilliant every time and I just can't fault it.


NEXT TIME...

Father's Day

Unlike Rose I've never really wanted to go back and watch this one again and again. I'm not compelled like she is. I'm not drawn, despite myself, to repeatedly experience the moment of disaster. I'm happy leaving several, many, years between viewings - but this should not in any way be taken as a criticism of the episode, because it is really good.

Or, rather, it is the superlative example of the more emotional kind of Doctor Who that RTD had brought about. It is so human, full of warmth and humour, love and regret, mistakes and death. But I think that a viewer's reactions will be different depending on whether they are fully immersed in events, feeling the emotions, like Rose, or merely watching them play out from a distance, like the Doctor. It's not that he doesn't get it, or appreciate what's going on - he does. Look at him engaging with the Bride and Groom: "Street corner, two in the morning. Taxi home," he sighs (a moment of charm that Pertwee would have killed for), but he is revelling in an ordinary human world that he can observe but not inhabit.

It's Rose's episode and Billie Piper is fantastic in every scene. Arguing with the Doctor, lying to herself and then her father, happy, sad, bewildered, guilty, terrified and, finally, utterly destroyed all over again, everything Rose does and says is completely human and completely believable. All the family interplay is great, Piper getting plenty of help from the excellent Camille Coduri and Shaun Dingwall as her parents. The "Don't even go there!" conversation is hilarious, and the way Rose attempts instinctively to interact with Jackie is wonderful. In fact, neither Rose nor Piper are ever better than they are here, which, considering there's a season and a half (plus change) of her to go is really rather a shame.

Eccleston is magnificent too. Watching this again I realised what a subtle performance it is - so much goes unsaid but we can see his mind is alive throughout, and several steps ahead as well. It's just a shame that... well, you know what I'm going to say. Of course, the drama belongs to Pete and to Rose, and of course, there's no place for the Doctor in amongst all that. And, yes, it's a wonderful shock when the Reaper gobbles him up. But. Like last week, despite it working within the context of the episode, it means this series has been almost nothing but other people saving the Doctor. At this point I have to ask, was it deliberate? It must have been I suppose, but I am missing the proper Doctor. While the episodes satisfy individually, the big picture is of a man who can't find it within himself to be the hero of his own show. It's a valid characterisation and an interesting experiment, especially given the lingering effects of the Time War and his survivor's guilt, but it does feel like we haven't yet seen the Doctor in action.

No, but really, excellent episode. Honestly, I'd take Rose and Pete over Nyssa and Tremas every time. I'm not so sure about Will and Chris: they both gave it a 7, which is the lowest score so far. They definitely enjoyed it but maybe the Reapers, and that bit of TARDIS-play didn't offer enough in terms of non-emotional content. I'm just guessing. William said it was "interesting" and "quite scary". I asked him if he meant the monsters and he said "no, the consequences! The Doctor knew what might happen but Rose did it anyway!" Christopher's take: "it was was sad, then scary, then sad again. But it was good."

I know what he means.


NEXT TIME...

The Long Game

Well, obviously not every episode can be super-duper. If The Long Game constitutes a mid-series slump, then it fares worse by being squidged in between Dalek and Father's Day; in such company it will always disappoint.

It's not as if The Long Game is firing on all cylinders. Adam's subplot feels like a digression, not from the episode, but from the entire series. The main story suffers from being undermined by Bad Wolf: both the set up for Satelite 5 and the consequences of the Doctor's visit will be rewritten by that episode. What happens here counts for nothing. And again, the Doctor is shackled and helpless while one of the guest stars saves the day. This was where I began to roll my eyes a little back in 2005. It's somewhat unfair because at least this episode is about empowerment and helping humanity achieve its potential. When the Doctor stings Cathica into action at the end, it is entirely the right payoff for this story - it's just that, in the context of the whole series, it's beginning to feel like the Doctor is never going to take centre stage.

He seems content to spur others on though and his vicarious nature has never been more obvious. Watch his face when Rose starts reeling off the lines he's just fed her so she can show off to Adam - it's something more than pride. 

There is more to this than just filler and there are things to love. Christine Adams, Anna Maxwell-Martin, and the fabulous Tamsin Grieg are all excellent. Although Simon Pegg can't do much with the listless Editor, he does manage to find some mysterious idiosyncrasy that doesn't collapse into comedy even if it never quite achieves real menace. And the Doctor's abrasive manner is revealed to be an act, gently needling those around him into action. The episode's message (don't let the media do your thinking for you) is crucially important, perhaps even more now than it was then - but is it not a little subtle? Why not set this story in a modern day newspaper where the owner is a hideous alien distorting the news for his own ends? That would get The Sun squawking.  

Both the boys enjoyed this look into the future. Chris liked that it that Earth had gone wrong, but said it wasn't scary (even though he was definitely on edge as Suki crept through the skeletons). William liked the setting and how humans had been manipulated. He gave it an 8, and Chris said 9, so it's no Aliens of London.


NEXT TIME...

Dalek

Dalek provides the first 'punch-the-air' moment of the post-2005 run. This is an extraordinary piece of Doctor Who. What surprises me most is that it looks all the more remarkable now, after a further eight years of the new series. Nothing we've seen since has the bravado, the aggressive confidence of this episode in the way it revitalises and reinvents one of the show's oldest and most famous elements.

The Daleks. Almost synonymous with Doctor Who, they've been part of (and largely responsible for) the series' success since the very beginning. But they've also been derided, their menace undermined. Not just by spoofs like Spike Milligan's, or the Kit-Kat advert, but also by the show itself. Not this time. This episode deliberately presents us with a terrifying, murderous, hard-as-nails Dalek as if to say "Oh, were you laughing at THIS?" It's no coincidence that the first victim smugly sneers at the humble plumber's sink plunger before it grasps hold of his face and starts audibly crushing bones (our first Behind The Sofa moment of the new series too). The Dalek smashes its way free and starts blazing death in all directions until the puny fleeing humans start to climb a staircase. Cue more smugness, from Adam this time as he mocks the last child of Skaro for its most famous inadequacy.

Some context. It's been said, I forget where, sorry, that there are layers to being a DW fan, like geological strata. The first is knowing the Daleks can fly because of Dalek. The second is remembering or discovering the 1988 cliffhanger where Sylvester McCoy is chased up some stairs by one that can float. The third is watching the 1965 Mary Celeste-set episode of The Chase, in which a Dalek is shown on the upper deck, and instinctively grasping that it can only have got there by levitating - bonus points for pointedly ignoring that it doesn't just fly away when crew members push it into the sea soon afterwards. But out there, amongst normal humans, if you stopped and asked one hundred of them to say anything at all about the Daleks before this epsiode, ninety-nine of them would have said "They're a bit rubbish aren't they? They can't go up stairs."

The renewal of the Dalek in this episode, the beefed-up design, the competence and efficiency with which it achieves its objectives, all this is a metaphor for the show itself. It partially explains why there is so much sympathy for the Dalek creature in this episode. When it starts exacting its horrible revenge upon the humans who have persecuted it, I am cheering it on. It is showing all the doubters what this silly old programme can do, taking all the old criticism and ridicule and exterminating them. Dalek is the episode where Doctor Who throws off the shackles and stands up for itself. It is wonderful.

But its not just jaded old fanboys who take the Dalek's side here. Brilliantly, this episode effortlessly coaxes empathy from its audience for this most unhuman creature. It goes beyond being a radical or original take on the Daleks and into sheer iconoclasm. It's entirely unambiguous: this Dalek is a victim, its suffering is genuine and even undeserved. Rose offers us this new perspective, showing us how our own humanity makes us capable of feeling sorry for something so unlike ourselves. How is it that we can do this and yet still dehumanise and detest our own kind? Unfortunately, for this particular Dalek, this is a two-way street and it to begins to find itself experiencing new feelings like pity and compassion while the Doctor simultaneously is overcome by his survivor's guilt, transformed into a gun-wielding, hate-filled figure.

It's all the more extraordinary because of what comes after. There isn't a single Dalek story after this which makes them anywhere near as scary or as interesting as they are here, and only Asylum of the Daleks is able to provide anything like the fresh perspective of Dalek.

This episode had a notable effect on viewers at the time. The Daily Mirror's TV critic (to pick one) wrote "for 30 pant-shittingly wonderful minutes, BBC1's new Doctor Who was the best thing on telly. Ever."

William, similarly blown away, called it "the saddest Doctor Who story I can remember", which is startling. He gave it a 10. Chris just about kept the lid on, giving it a 9: "it was a little bit sad but a lot cool." I'm amazed and delighted by their response to these old episodes: they haven't once been bored or unimpressed. I'm choosing not to decide that this means there might be something unformed about their critical faculties (I know all too well that they can find all sorts of wonderful things dull if the mood takes them). Rather I wonder if their lack of familiarity with these shows has thrown them off guard: this is New Who as far as they're concerned, but will they be as kind to later Tennant and Smith episodes that they know better? Or will they have to find some bigger numbers?


NEXT TIME...

World War III

After our first cliffhanger, our first cliffhanger resolution. They rarely satisfy completely: ideally they should surprise and delight, but still be conceivably foreseeable. It's not an exact science. This one's alright, although you can probably only play the "But I'm not human!" card once.

Afterwards the episode spins into a madcap runaround sequence that delighted both the boys and the Doctor. He is really enjoying this, and grins wildly at the Slitheen as he escapes in the lift or bounds up and down the stairs. He has come alive, delighted to be mixed up in the middle of it all and his enthusiasm is infectious. But once he's safely ensconced in the Cabinet Room (after some wonderfully Doctorish flimflam) everything settles down and it becomes clear that the Slitheen's plot to destroy the world is not the sole focus of this episode.

The emotional centre is Jackie's fear for Rose. It's bad enough that her daughter is threatened by the mysterious unknowable universe, but now Rose is inside Downing Street as Mickey buffalos his way into missile command. It's a fair point and a timely one for the series to address. We know she's not safe. We wouldn't be watching if it was safe. But at the same time, we sort of assume that the rules of television mean that nothing really horrible is going to happen to her. This isn't Spooks after all. But Jackie reminds us that for her this is real, and the truthfulness of all this once again gives the fantasy a rock-solid foundation that makes all the difference. She never gives the Doctor credit for sharing her concerns, but he does, and can not bring himself to give the order that fires the missile, yet again unable to do what must be done. Luckily, the MP for Flydale North, this week's locum and destined for greatness, is happy to take the tough decisions. 

It's obvious, but still needs to be said: World War III is anti-war and also anti-The War. Harriet Jones has to get it on record that she "voted against that". Less obliquely, the Slitheen declare that "massive weapons of destruction" are pointing at Britain and could be deployed within "forty-five seconds". It's not subtle, but that doesn't make it inappropriate. Doctor Who has poked a stick into the wasps' nest of politics in the past too, albeit rarely. Various Pertwee stories were 'about' industrial relations, or apartheid, or environmentalism, Fourth Doctor story The Sun Makers was nothing less than an attack on the Inland Revenue and The Happiness Patrol had seen the Seventh Doctor bring down an outer space Margaret Thatcher (Shelia Hancock in a pink wig).

Roughly a year before this episode was written up to a million people marched against British involvement in the Iraq War; I think it's fair to say that enthusiasm was not widespread. I was, initially, prepared to believe the government's claims about WMD, but only because it seemed so impossible that it would lie to me about it, either deliberately or accidentally. The sheer desperation of the scrabble for a UN resolution changed my mind, the goalposts continually shifting as the UK and US failed to make their case. It felt as if the war needed to take place no matter what. Whatever the rights and wrongs of toppling Saddam Hussein, ultimately there were no weapons of mass destruction and many British people were left with the feeling that some alien influence had somehow been able to steer the course of our country against our will, and that maybe it had all really just been about money.

In that light, the events of World War III become a kind of coup d'état. Doctor Who marches into the heart of government, leaves Tony Blair for dead and then demolishes Downing Street, eradicating the stain of war with fire. For an encore, Harriet Jones - an idealised, compassionate politician - is installed, her grip on power to be legitimised retrospectively by three landslide elections: Britain is restored. Forget the farting, this episode is angry, cathartic and important.

William was born just days before the invasion of Iraq went ahead so, needless to say, the boys are watching a different show to me, which is just as it should be. They're both thrilled and happily dole out 10s. Chris thought the Slitheen were "very, very, very scary" and loved the Doctor, calling him "funny and excited".

"What about when he's angry?" I asked.

"I think he's supposed to be, but I don't like it," he replied.

Wiliam agreed with all that but also mentioned the final scene, where Rose promises her mum that, thanks to time travel, she could be away for years and come back ten seconds later. The TARDIS leaves. Jackie sits and counts silently. But nothing happens.

"Good drama, that," said William.


NEXT TIME...

Aliens of London

"That's a good start," says William over the titles.

And it is. Once again RTD does a simple, tiny thing and makes Doctor Who seem utterly new. He takes the fantasy seriously, connects it to the real world of the audience, and finds wonderful human drama where the two intersect. The TARDIS, famously unreliable, has accidentally returned Rose home in the wrong year - so far, so The Visitation. But this has consequences: Rose has been missing, presumed murdered, the subject (presumably) of Crimewatch reconstructions; Mickey has been living under a cloud of accusations and interrogations; Jackie has been bereft. A few minutes later, the Doctor is sat watching the telly in the Tyler's living room surrounded by friends and neighbours. "I don't do domestic," he says. Oh, but you do Doctor, you do!

This is all marvellous shows exactly why RTD was the right person to bring the show back, and why it was such an incredible success. The programme, suddenly emotionally literate, connected into the world of the viewer, and a whole new audience of people were, in return, prepared to step into the TARDIS.

The episode's reputation has suffered though, particularly with parts of fandom who just couldn't get over the farting green aliens. Ah, the Slitheen. No, they're not necessarily going to end up in many people's Top Ten Doctor Who villains, but they are an original addition to the show and they're immensely popular with kids, at once repulsive, scary and funny (the Slitheen I mean, not the kids). Peer around them at the plot and there's an intriguing mystery beginning to build: a corruption of the (hopefully) dependable instruments of the state as politics, army and police are all infiltrated. The natural order of things is literally being perverted: many viewers won't forget the poor little pig forced up onto its hind legs and chased around the hospital, another victim of the Slitheen's plan.

It's in these scenes that Eccleston's Doctor recovers some of his authority, shouting orders at the sqauddies, questioning Tosh and remonstrating over the death of the pig. He manages to take charge at Number 10 too: in a room full of human experts (and Slitheen) he is calm and self-assured, right up until the trap is sprung.

Yes, a CLIFFHANGER! I had been waiting for this since, well, ever since Ace's eyes went yellow. I love cliffhangers. They're one of my favourite things about Doctor Who: the caveman's shadow, "You shall be like uzzzz...", the giant hand reaching down, "So you see, I'm not going to let you stop me now!" - well I could go on, obviously, but  the scream of the music, the moment of suspension as the jeopardy was sustained for a whole week... this was all something I got from Doctor Who, roughly three episodes out four, and I had missed it.

This is a good one. A lavishly comprehensive cliffhanger with all the 'good' guys threatened across multiple locations. I was happy then, it still satisfies now. Yes, the overly-prompt Next Time trailer kind of spoils it, but lessons were learned, just look at The Stolen Earth.

The boys, raised in the Netflix age, do not like cliffhangers. Maybe I'm being unfair, but I think they resent them and the feeling that something available is being withheld. And the better the cliffhanger, the more excited they are, the worse they like it. This one almost stops Chris giving the episode a 10. Almost.

"Was there nothing wrong with it?" I ask.

"Well, the cliffhanger wasn't very good."

"Oh," I say, prepared, "Why didn't you like it?"

"Have you *seen* The Pandorica Opens?" he cries.

Maybe his scale goes to eleven.

He described Aliens of London as "amazing and scary'. William also gave it a 10, praising the "great writing", scary cliffhanger ("I liked how they held back the reveal"), and Penelope Wilton's Harriet Jones ("I like her, she's nice"). It's a family show, aimed at anyone, but no one can deny that something skews Doctor Who towards 9 year old boys. The key demographic has spoken: this is a classic.

They were so excited they wanted to press on with part two. I made them wait.


NEXT TIME...

The Unquiet Dead

Finally some proper scares for the boys. Interestingly, neither of them remember watching this one before, and there's no coincidence: familiarity reduces fear. It also explains some of their undiminished enthusiasm - there are lots of episodes that they just haven't absorbed or re-watched and they are eager to see what they've forgotten. I think they are enjoying getting to grips with Eccleston's Doctor too, although they haven't said as much yet.

The Unquiet Dead is seen as an attempt to try and do 'traditional' Doctor Who within the new series' format. The macabre humour and horror trappings all hark back to the Hinchcliffe/Holmes era, whilst the Victorian setting specifically evokes classics like The Talons of Weng Chiang. But of course it feels more traditional when the TARDIS goes back in time, because visions of the present and the future are always having to be revised. A 2005 trip to the future will have to look different to anything we've seen before, whereas filming 1869 means finding an un-redeveloped street in Swansea and breaking into the BBC's extensive Costume Drama wardrobe.

And there is some innovation here. After decades (centuries?) of name-dropping, we get to see the Doctor rub shoulders with the great and the good. Yes, alright, we had previously (and infrequently) seen him encounter Marco Polo or George Stephenson, but such historical encounters were just period dressing. With The Unquiet Dead the audience begins to expect that the Doctor will meet famous people in the past. It also, with its treatment of Charles Dickens, establishes a template for some of these meetings. Far from just providing a flavour of the times, Dicken's presence here is substantial and consequential. There is a large amount of biographical detail woven through Gatiss' knowing script and the story ends with both Dickens and the Doctor each having comprehensively affected the other's life. We'll soon see the same thing happening with Queen Victoria, Madame du Pompadour, Shakespeare, Agatha Christie and Vincent van Gogh (though not with Churchill, Nixon or Hitler), and I'd argue that this style of episode has quickly become a staple of the new series.

Some of this is down to Simon Callow, definitively Dickensian, and the presence of an actor of his standing was a real shot in the arm for the show at this point. But credit must go to Gatiss (and RTD) for making this such a thoughtful script. But this comes at the expense of some action and excitement. The middle section, although lovely (Dickens talking to the Doctor, Rose talking to Gwynneth), does rather slow things down. The scares, though, when they come are excellent. Dead people sitting up and shuffling around, grasping at you - it's so simple, but Doctor Who has never really done zombies before. It all works brilliantly, and the boys were shifting in their seats each time the menace ramped up towards the intense cellar-full of lurching corpses.

Once again, the Doctor isn't in a position to save the day - it's up to Dickens to dash in and have the bright idea, and up to Gwynneth to posthumously destroy the Gelth. The Doctor's heroism is sacrificed, seemingly, so he can have that final moment with Rose - but unlike in the previous episodes this climax is missing the full emotional punch that helped compensate for the slightness of the resolution.

Nonetheless the boys enjoyed it a lot. William scored it a 9, enjoying a "well written mystery"; Chris liked the "cool zombies" and how Dickens became less grumpy during the episode, giving it an 8. I don't think it is quite as successful as those first two episodes. There's a lot of mileage in the 'immigration' aspects of the plot that goes unexplored and the gaseous Gelth should perhaps expand to fill some of the available space in the story.

But the bottom line is, of course, that we got to meet Charles Dickens! How cool was that?


NEXT TIME...

The End of the World

I don't know whether it's because I'm watching them again with the boys, but these early episodes are much better than I remember them. Or is it rather that I assume they must have dwindled compared to the greatness which is on the way? I'm not entirely sure, but I do know that this is good Doctor Who, and that it feels almost traditional now. And the boys love it, seemingly unconditionally: Christopher came this close to giving it a 10.

They liked the opening ("Oooh, a 'Last Time'!"), they like the aliens, they like the music, they liked Cassandra, in fact pretty much everything. William loves the twist at the end, and wonders if the AC unit's giant propellers are another, albeit mysteriously subtle, Titanic reference. Perhaps it's this season's arc? Chris loves that the Vortex is red when the TARDIS is future-bound, but blue when it's travelling into the past. He thinks the Doctor's hilarious, and our favourite Time Lord does seem much more relaxed already, genuinely enjoying himself, or maybe remembering how to enjoy himself, before Jabe rakes over the past and Cassandra provokes his wrath.

Ah, Zoë Wanamaker. I remember being greatly encouraged by her casting, even if she was only lending a voice to a "bitchy trampoline". Too much, of course, at the time to expect proper actors to want to physically appear in Doctor Who, but well done her I thought for lending some credibility to my poor television show. I was still nervous, still apologetic on DW's behalf, still ashamed to love it as much as I did. I couldn't imagine that it would achieve the astonishing success that followed after, that the likes of Derek Jacobi, Michael Gambon, Kylie (Kylie!), Timothy Flipping Dalton, would grace us with their screen presence. Back then, with Simon Callow waiting in the wings, I was not convinced that Doctor Who would triumph.

Given the chance to watch it again I find there is plenty to like here. Again the story is slighter than might be expected, slimmed down in order to allow time to focus on Rose's culture shock. It's the right decision and Billie Piper does great work here selling the reality of both Rose and her situation. The 'domestic' elements continue to work because RDT writes beautiful, truthful moments about real people who just happen to be watching the Sun explode in the year 5 billion. The pop music works very well, the CGI effects hold up still and Wanamaker is utterly brilliant, even off screen.

On the downside, it isn't very scary. They boys seemed to wobble when Raffalo got spiderised, but then they had forgotten all about that by the end ("Two out of ten for scariness," they claimed). They didn't like the Doctor's callous treatment of Cassandra either, labelling it "unDoctorlike". I know what they mean, but I think it was supposed to jar, even only two episodes in. Again, the Doctor fails to commit the final heroic act that we expect him to perform - here, though, he is not frozen or conflicted: his inaction is a deliberate choice and condemns Cassandra to die rather horribly. But, thanks to Jabe, we are beginning to hear about the Time War and to understand the Doctor's part in it - just how wounded must he be that he takes Rose to witness her own planet's demise? It makes Ace's trip to Gabriel Chase look tame in comparison and, in the light of what we now know it seems a perverse and twisted thing to do. Worse than that, it isn't an attempt to force catharsis upon his companion, but upon himself. It's a cry for help, just as the Tenth Doctor's first visit to New Earth signifies that he has been made well once more.

We all liked The End of the World. Chris gave it a 9, judgementally dropping a point to punish the Doctor for his treatment of Cassandra. William gave it an 8, calling it an "action-packed detective story." It's certainly solid Doctor Who, audaciously made and with a real emotional core.


NEXT TIME...

Rose

I don't know why I haven't written much about Doctor Who. I've nearly written lots of things, but they never made it out of draft. It's never been the right time, possibly. But don't worry, that's all about to change.

At some point I may have to explain my lifelong relationship with what is, let's face it, merely a daft but occasionally brilliant bit of telly. When I think of a way to do that that doesn't make me sound like a defensive obsessive, I'll let you know. 

But I can say that, although the original show was a personal, almost private, wonder, its rebirth is something I have been able to share wholly with my children. William, our oldest, was born the same year the announcement came that Russell T Davies was typing away. Then Christopher was born just a few weeks before the first new episode aired in 2005. (And yes, it is entirely coincidental that they share their names with the first and (then) current actors to play the Doctor; honestly, there is no way I could have consciously smuggled that past my wife, although I did, obviously, manage to subconsciously smuggle it past myself.) Most importantly, having given up hope that the show was ever going to return, I was delighted that my children would grow up in world where Saturday night TV meant Doctor Who.

And grow up with it they have, living their young lives alongside those of the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh Doctors. Now William is ten, Doctor Who is fifty and the Twelth Doctor is about to materialise, we thought it was the right time to do something we've been meaning to do for ages: the three of us are going to sit down and plough through all of the new series, in order, and we're going to stick the results on here because fun is to be shared.

Rose was a big deal. Brand. New. Doctor Who. It's fair to say I was a little tense. It being Easter Saturday, we watched this with my parents-in-law and that didn't help because it just made me all the more keenly aware how much DW needed, how much I needed, the approval of the Not-We. What if it was rubbish?

The boy's have no memory of this first screening of course, and I don't blame them at all. They were both very small, (William not even three, which is what I was when I my hazy memory of Destiny of the Daleks Part One was formed) and there was some talk, if I remember correctly, about the fact that DW might be too scary for them, which is just silly; not because Rose isn't very scary, but because the scariness is part of the point of DW. The experience of watching the show is, or should be, that of someone taken beyond their comfort zone and made to confront the alien, the other. That is what happened to Ian and Barbara in November 1963, and that is what happens to Rose Tyler here.

I remember in an interview RTD saying that they had toyed with the idea of a pre-credits sequence for Rose. It would have worked brilliantly because those first zippy moments that establish Rose's life represent our world as it was without DW. It's only when she takes the lift down to the basement of Henrik's department store and paces through the Auton-filled shadows that Rose begins a journey into the universe of DW, one that ends with her running into the TARDIS in the closing moments.

Rose is a funny thing. On the one hand it is so carefully done, the re-introduction so gingerly made: the seemingly innocuous Police Box on the pavement, the mournful off-screen dematerialisation, both teasing, building up to Rose's eventual incredulous TARDIS entrance. This episode is desperate not to push away the casual viewer, to draw them in. All the while, these strange things are presented as happening in a very familiar setting. Rose and Jackie could be characters from Eastenders and RTD has them mention all sorts of friends and acquaintances - Derek, Wilson, Debbie-on-the-End, Beth, Greek-looking Arianna, Jimmy Stone - we never see them but they suggest a community, a wider world that helps cement our association.

On the other hand, Rose is a radical piece of Doctor Who, rewriting the show's rules and backstory - though we don't know that yet. Eccleston's Doctor might appear initially unconvincing (the forced jollity for one thing), but it is not the performance which is suffering. Rather it is the Doctor who is not himself, injured and traumatised by the as yet unnamed Time War. It's an astonishing weight to add to the character, but it works: crucially, it makes the Doctor more real to us, more understandable and more believable. The downside, dramatically, is that, not for the last time this series, the Doctor is impotent during the story's climax, paralysed and unable to commit the final act that saves the day. He has become instead a catalyst for heroism, an enabler, and here it's Rose with her bronze gymnastics medal, who is prompted to swing into action.

For me, the big surprise were the scenes depicting the Autons' awakening. It may be concentrated in the Queen Street shopping centre but compared with some invasions we've been shown, this is full on, dense with explosions, shattering glass, screaming victims and careering cars. It's an intense few minutes, but one that doesn't seem to have much impact on my boys as we rewatched: neither of them thought this was scary at all. They did both laugh quite a bit though, squealing at the Auton arm shenanigans, and again at Eccleston's London Eye pantomime. There was some nostalgia too (you're never too young to reminisce) for the old titles and music. On the other hand William didn't think much of the animation, criticising the wheelie bin in particular, and Chris wasn't sure about Billie Piper - so what would they, now the nascent show's key age group, score it out of ten? William offered a 7 and said it was a lot better than he remembered. Chris gave it a 9 and maybe, compared to Timelash, that's about right. I might not be quite as generous. The traditional invasion plot is slight, but rightly sidelined in order to focus on re-introducing so much. Like An Unearthly Child, Rose has a significance that outweighs its dramatic qualities. Unlike the original first episode, Rose is not intended to explain everything - more of these characters will be revealed over the coming episodes.

When the Doctor appears at her front door, almost intruding into our own reality, he asks Rose, "What are you doing here?" "I live here," she says. His pained reply, "What do you do that for?" is not only the best line in the story but a perfect explanation of the show's premise. Why sit at home when you could go... anywhere? And why put up with ordinary television when you could watch Doctor Who?


NEXT TIME...