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...