Smith & Jones

For the second episode in a row, the Doctor is trying it on with a new woman. Despite losing Rose, and having being rebuffed by Donna, he immediately sees something he likes about Martha Jones. He's indefatigable.

This is the best series opener so far. More ambitious than Rose, more accomplished than New Earth, it has key advantages over both of them. Unlike Rose, the audience is fully acquainted with the show and completely comfortable with the Doctor. Unlike New Earth, this episode still benefits from introducing a new companion. Smith & Jones is a fresh start that merely requires a cursory reminder of the programme's essentials without the weight of having to relaunch the show from scratch.

It's altogether very satisfying. Apart from that silliness with the radiation in his shoe, the Doctor's on excellent form, bright, breezy and mischievously playful. He lies to the doctors with glee and then mugs his way through his confrontation with Mrs Finnegan. It's a classic Doctorish trick to persuade the enemy to underestimate him but one we rarely see anymore, which is a shame. It works especially well here where, although he has already outwitted the plasmavore, Martha must understand what he has done in order to secure the victory. It's as neat a way as any of letting them share the credit.

The whole point of this episode is that Martha proves herself worthy of being a companion, but she manages to do this without being plucky or homeless like some of her predecessors. Her intelligence is key and she uses reason to analyse her lunar surroundings, but what really marks her out from her fellow medical students is her open-mindedness. She is a good thing, level-headed compared with her family, resourceful compared with her colleagues. And she gets her own wonderful theme from Murray Gold too, one of the best in the series, surely a good sign.

The introduction of a new companion might have taken up too much room but Smith and Jones is nicely balanced. The story itself is cleverly contained, almost a base-under-siege, and makes good use of novel locations (a hospital, the moon) to keep things interesting and provide strong visual elements. The plot is tight and clear with key moments hingeing around things we know already: the Doctor's alienness, or the lack of air on the Moon. At no point does the audience feel it has been shortchanged.

Anne Reid is thoroughly pleasing: Mrs Finnegan, far more than just an archetypal witch, exhibits a palpable menace and a real sense of appetite. She sells the gruesome and visceral nature of her villainy in a way kids can understand, even if they can't be shown it.

And the Judoon are good too. To be honest, I'm getting a little bored of this 'alien animals' idea. I can see how it works as useful shorthand for the audience but there comes a point where it begins to feel like an unnecessary shortcut. It will certainly be taken too far in the future, but we're not there yet. The Judoon are effective and the well-executed rhino design is part of that. Their bureaucratic nature works too, making them a formidable obstacle without them necessarily being 'evil'. In a universe of Daleks, Cybermen and (let's face it) Mrs Finnegan, this nuance is very welcome.

The boys couldn't quite share my enthusiasm. Will gave it only 7, Chris an 8. More than anything else, they were very concerned that they didn't understand how the hospital had got to the Moon. "They explained that," I said. "It was an H2O scoop."

"That doesn't explain it!" They cried. "How can water do that? Is it magic?"

"No, does it matter? It's just a teleport. The hospital just has to get there for the story to work. You're missing the point."

"Well, it could have been explained better," said William.

Maybe we'll try Season 18 next, and see how they like that.


NEXT TIME...

The Runaway Bride

I remember that, at the time, the beginning of this story was the most exhilarating twenty minutes of Doctor Who I had seen. It still might be, but overall, this episode is much better now than it was in 2006.

But that wonderful start: everything is fast and funny from the very minute that the Doctor and Donna start to spark off of each other in the Console Room. Say what you like about Rose, but that relationship never produced any on-screen fizzle like this. Tennant and Tate create a thrilling dynamic in scenes full of screwball banter and sharp jokes. And then, joy of joys, what a Christmas present from Uncle Russell: a proper TARDIS chase. It's magnificent and the show knows it. Donna's deadpan "You have got to be kidding me," voices the thoughts of many older viewers while the greek chorus of backseat kids lets children at home connect directly to the wonder of the TARDIS careering down the motorway. It is a high point in the history of a show that must constantly prove it has new tricks up its sleeves. There was some cheering from our sofa as the TARDIS finally spiralled away into the sky.

There's only one thing wrong with this opening and it is the bright summer sunshine that threatens to wash all thoughts of Christmas from the screen. It hardly matters, and it certainly doesn't spoil anything, but it is odd how the festive specials have so often concerned themselves with the mere trappings of Christmas. This time we get robot Santas, exploding baubles and (a very loose connection this) the star-shaped, but web-constructed, Racnoss spaceship. It's not a problem though because suddenly Doctor Who itself had become a Christmas tradition. All these years later the idea of a seasonal episode has been cemented into our expectations along with paper crowns, sprouts and Slade, but even back in 2006 it was starting to feel quite normal. Is it a little unsettling that customs can be created so very quickly?

Doctor Who fans are used to such sudden changes, constantly being given new Doctors, new companions, new series schedules and so on. I certainly don't have any problem getting used to Donna. She is so much fun to watch, so funny, so prickly but deeply compassionate. Tate is excellent too and she makes Tennant raise his game - or is it just that this is the first time we see the tenth Doctor meet somebody he has to win over? Either way, this pairing is a joy.

Some of this is hindsight though. I didn't feel this strongly about Donna at the time and the difference is that I know now that she will return. RTD has experimented a lot with 'one-off' companions, and it's definitely an interesting idea, one that is perfectly suited towards the Special episodes. But these guest characters never quite have the same impact. Astrid, Christina, Jackson Lake - although I can enjoy their story, there's no point in becoming attached to them as they'll be gone again in a moment. This was true for Donna originally, but now The Runaway Bride is only the beginning of her story and, in retrospect, her being in this story feels like foresight. Clever trick that.

I didn't much care for the second half of this episode on first viewing. It felt disappointing after that great opening twenty minutes and I didn't appreciate the oddness of Sarah Parrish's Racnoss Queen. Was no-one taking this seriously? This time there was none of that. It's just flat out fun. The Racnoss is visually fantastic and Parrish hardly seems over the top at all. I still don't understand what the Segways are for (do the robots use them? What did the production team feel they added?) but everyone looks like they are enjoying themselves and, believe it or not, that's actually what Christmas is all about.

We enjoyed ourselves too, although William could only give this a seven. "I liked the TARDIS chase and I'm impressed that the military showed up at the end. It wasn't all left to the Doctor this time." He also liked the references to Rose, which, if nothing else, help tie this all together with the immediate events of Doomsday. Christopher continues to perplex. He said Donna was "a little bit rude" and that the Racnoss was "a bit talky" without explaining whether these were things he liked or not. Then he gave this episode nine out of ten and I asked what had made him deduct a point.

"The Doctor defying the law of weather [making it snow]," he said. As ludicrous fan-complaints go, at least it's original.


NEXT TIME...

Doomsday

I like series finales, but I often wish they were different. There's usually a whole whoosh of spectacle thrown in to these episodes and here we are tantalised with the prospect of Daleks versus Cybermen. I just wish this confrontation was the point of the story rather than being a mere decorative adornment. The scene in which these two races finally confront each other is a delight, despite the emotionless, logical Cybermen demonstrating an incomprehensible capacity for bitchy putdowns. The best thing is that, in comparison, the Daleks finally behave like living creatures with individual characters. Withering scorn should be their trademark.

It's right that the Cybermen should be inferior to the Daleks (especially these Cybus neophytes), but their inability to even put a dent in the dalekanium means that the significance of this face-off drains away pretty quickly: after the war of words and a brief skirmish, the laser fire becomes an irrelevant backdrop, CGI wallpaper behind other events.

I suggested last time that perhaps the boys were a little jaded about all this hoopla. That isn't true. They saw this episode as a Big Thing, and what they really wanted was a Big Battle. After this finished, the two of them had quite a heated argument about whether the Cybermen could hurt a Dalek or not. Chris maintained that they had, during the fight in the Voidsphere chamber. William pointed out that that was only when they had been given one of Alt-Torchwood's big guns. Well it went on from there and I couldn't quite bring myself to meticulously note it all down. Suffice to say, they - like me - were more into this aspect of the story than the Whole Rose Thing.

I've been mean about Rose, I know. She has been a great companion, but I never understood why she had to be more than that. Once again, I've never been one of those fans who were so desperately folded in on themselves that they could only cope with an asexual Doctor. Never bothered me that he might have relationships. Never bothered me that a companion might fall in love with him. The River Song arc is absolutely one of the best things that has happened to the show. But Rose is too much. She's too intense. She gets in the way of our relationship with the Doctor. (I sound jealous - I guess I am.) And Rose refuses to play by the rules of the programme, she doesn't accept that she will have to leave. This means that the story had to exert a huge force to physically drag her away and the episode becomes unbalanced, with a long coda that feels (if you're like me) indulgent.

But so what? That's fine. Let her have her moment. It's great drama and it's something Doctor Who has been incapable of doing before, with only the departures of Sarah Jane or Jo even beginning to approach the same level of emotional drama. Even better, it's a perfect ending. Like the great tragedies, Rose has brought this on herself. Unlike any sort of tragedy, she gets to live in luxury with her Mum, Mickey and her revivified Dad. Perhaps she should call it quits and let us get on with the show.

William sort of agreed (after banging his Cyber-drum: "Daleks versus Cybermen was rubbish! Not one Dalek died!"): "I think Rose was too attached to the Doctor. She should have known it wouldn't be forever. I give it a seven."

Chris gave it an 8 and wasn't sure about the cliffhanger arrival. "It shouldn't have ended with Donna turning up. It spoils it. It should have ended with the Doctor crying." I can see his point but, really, if Daleks versus Cybermen has been eclipsed by the Doctor/Rose break-up then we need to just put as much distance between us and Bad Wolf Bay as possible.

Thank goodness for Donna.


NEXT TIME...

Army of Ghosts

I can tell I am terribly old because the thing I like least about modern Doctor Who is the way in which it is compelled to shout "Watch me! You have to watch me!". It's just a fact that television has changed. The monolithic structures of the Sixties have been replaced by a brash digital arena in which programmes and channels must compete for our attention. I don't like it because I grew up in a time when Doctor Who was Just On and everybody (or nearly everybody) watched because the ITV regions hadn't agreed on what to schedule against it.

Things began to slide in the Eighties. I distinctly remember the agony of a school playground full of children who had watched The A-Team instead. Boys and girls, running, shooting at each other, plucking imaginary cigars from their mouths, and me stood in the middle of it all, arms folded, alien. Doctor Who's producer, John Nathan-Turner, seemed to spend all his time courting publicity, leaking stories to the tabloids, provocatively suggesting that he might do away with the Police Box, give the Doctor a wife, or cast a slew of light entertainment stars. His catchphrase, "Stay Tuned!", had an increasingly desperate edge to it as ratings dropped and the show faced first a hiatus and finally cancellation. In those last years, the BBC put Doctor Who on against Coronation Street, the dreadnought of the ITV schedule, as if to hasten its departure.

When the show came back and confounded the doubters, it felt wonderful. Suddenly Doctor Who was the BBC's big beast, dispatching whatever ITV offered on the other side. And yet, it still had to compete, to plead for every viewer. It always makes me think, with distaste, of the years when the show was in trouble and (often) a bit rubbish.

Publicity, these days, is a good thing of course. It means the show is being backed heavily by the BBC and that the papers are interested enough to write about it. Billboards, press launches, Radio Times covers, live shows revealing casting decisions(!) are all evidence of the show's tremendous strength. But sometimes, still, the show does things to itself, contorts itself unnecessarily just so that there is something new with which to try and ensnare viewers and win over TV journalists.

"This is the story of how I died."

It's not quite a lie, but Army of Ghosts does begin with brazen hyperbole. She doesn't literally die, although that is presumably not what she means: Rose is sufficiently self-absorbed that she might claim that life without the Doctor is as good as being dead. We can't, surely,be expected to agonise about someone being mistakenly counted amongst the dead. But using this language, referring to a "war" when subsequent episodes will simply call it a "battle", is artificially raising the stakes. These exaggerated claims will not be substantiated by the rest of this story and, much worse, they will be utterly undermined by Journey's End. This opening is pure snakeoil.

Agh, such a small thing to write so much about, but it is so prominent. Front and centre, at the top of the episode, it might as well be written in fire: WE WANT YOU TO WORRY IN CASE ROSE DIES. But watching this, knowing it's a two-parter, it is as if we are already being told that only the end of this story matters. We'll come to Doomsday, but Army of Ghosts should be worth a look all by itself, and the problem sort of is that it is only really a stepping-stone, to get us to the finale.

It's a strength and a weakness, but this episode trades a lot on the fact that the audience thinks it knows what's going on. After two series and especially after the previous year's Dalek stories, it is beginning to feel like a template is being assembled for Doctor Who. Introductory episode, historical, future, early two-parter, mid-season odds and sods, later two-parter, a cheapish filler and then final two-parter that brings back the big baddy. We know what's coming and we feel clever that we know. It doesn't matter that last week's Next Time made it explicit, that the trailers were full of Cybermen, that this episode features images of Cybermen from an early stage, we still feel like we've cracked the code. We don't notice that we've actually been tricked.

It's good misdirection. And it leads to one of the greatest cliffhangers in all of Who. We weren't expecting anyone else: the unknowable laws of Doctor Who tell us that the Cybermen are strong enough bad guys to warrant a two-part finale story. We, like Mickey, are thinking that there must be a Cyber-Something inside the Voidsphere. When it opens, it is thrilling and mind-bending: nobody expected Daleks to fly out. (Okay, I know you did, clever-clogs, because you spotted the tell-tale extermination visual/sound effect in the Next Time trailer, but you're special.)

But here's the problem with this legerdemain. Firstly, whilst we are waiting for the surprise that we don't know to expect, it all seems a little obvious. Yes, the ghosts are Cybermen. Is that it? The main part of this episode is spent waiting for the Doctor to catch up with us, or at least to say out loud what we guess he has already deduced. Secondly, it turns out that the Cybermen aren't strong enough bad guys that they get their own finale. The impact of the Cybermen is sacrificed wholesale so as to convince us not to expect the surprise that we didn't know we weren't supposed to expect. The Daleks are still the bigger draw, top of the bill and this diminishes the Cybermen - even more so when the two species duke it out next week. I'm not sure that the Cybermen have ever recovered either; I'll let you know when we've rewatched Nightmare in Silver. Thirdly, well, it's the Daleks again. Watching this for the first time I remember my excitement tempered by those insuppressible fan anxieties: are we going to have Daleks in every series finale?

For all that, there are some great things in Army of Ghosts. The wonderful idea that people, like Jackie, can't help but impose human memories onto the blankness of the cyber 'ghosts'; the excellent joke "Peggy heard this noise in the cellar..."; the enigmatic Torchwood being revealed as nothing more than a ghastly modern workspace, bedevilled with corporate-speak and office politics. And the Cybermen, before they are revealed to be a sideshow, are tremendous. Yes, the CGI makes them look a little like a synchronised swimming team as they materialise en masse around the world, but their sheer physical presence is literally brought home during this invasion: most terrifying of all is the Cyberman that appears at the top of the stairs, just as a young boy is running for the safety of his bedroom. For the first time ever in Doctor Who, I was worried about the impact it might have on children - that single image is devastating and brings the imaginary threat right into a child's real world. Scared me, I can tell you.

Christopher, the contrary so-and-so, disagreed. "It was scarier when they were hiding in Torchwood. That was quite creepy. Really good episode though. Nine out of ten."

William is beginning to get a little pernickety. "Why did Rose follow Mickey? Did she recognise him? That makes sense. Except she was surprised when he turned around later on. Hmmmm. And I'm not sure if Daleks versus Cybermen is a good fight. Eight out of ten."

And this is why Doctor Who needs to scream and shout. They are, partly because of me, committed fans, but they are also eight and ten years old: at any time their enthusiasm could flip to cold ambivalence. And if they can't get excited about Daleks versus Cybermen, we're all in trouble.


NEXT TIME...

Fear Her

This is another one with a dodgy reputation. I'm pretty sure that it's not as bad as everyone thinks it is - but it's still on the wrong side of middling. Fear Her has a few nice moments, but it's a hodge-podge, a muddle of different ideas that don't quite gel and steal time from each other. What's worse is that it feels undercooked and is seriously lacking the confident glow that The Christmas Invasion had in spades.

For a start there's the alien. Normally, this creature lives as part of a hive, emotionally dependent upon its billions and billions of siblings. When it crashes on Earth, it is so desperate to regain this sense of community that it infests the first human it finds and starts grasping other children and stuffing them into some other dimension. It's a good idea (although why send the other children away if it is so lonely?), but the name of this alien that wants to be with its family, indeed the name of its species, which lives (as I said) in swarms of many billions, is Isolus. What? As in 'isolation'? Why would it be called that? That's the opposite of what it should be called. That's like calling the Cybermen 'The Emoticons'. Doctor Who has a long tradition of silly names, but at least the planet Arridus was dry and the Monoids only had one eye. Isolus is a name that only describes the business of the story itself. This is a silly, tiny thing to complain about, but it's an example of how Fear Her feels as if it has not been fully thought out.

Which brings us to the Olympics. Firstly, there's no harm in trying something audacious. Good for them for wanting to show glimpses of the opening ceremony, or the torch relay, that far in advance. And, okay, it looks much worse post-2012, now that we've got an image in our heads of how big and splendid and spectacular the actual Olympics turned out to be. But really, what's on screen here looked quite rubbish even in 2006: the entire hoopla of the greatest show on Earth reduced to half a street, some stock footage of a stadium and a Huw Edwards voiceover. And again, behind the lacklustre execution, the ideas don't make sense. When the people in the stadium vanish, nobody other than Huw cares. The horrendous, startling, Earth-shattering news that 80,000 people have disappeared from the Olympic Stadium either does not reach or does not matter to those lining the streets and cheering on the torch relay just a mile or so down the road. In Series One, in episodes like Rose and Aliens of London, ridiculous incidents like this were sold to the viewer with utter conviction. It was a real strength of the show, but Fear Her can't manage it. This feels fabricated and unreal, even down to the freezing breath pluming from everyone's mouths in 'July'.

The third strand of all this is the drawings. It's a neat idea, a great spooky SF concept, perfect for Doctor Who. But it should have had a whole episode devoted to it, not thrown into this mix. All these good ideas are jostling with each other for screen time, for a chance to be developed and, as a result, it's never totally clear what is going on. The 'real' pictures release their captives at the end, including the Doctor and the TARDIS, but the drawing of Chloe's dead father also comes to life. Why? What happens to the picture she drew of the Isolus? Or the Olympic torch that the Doctor (er, somehow?) drew whilst himself trapped inside a drawing? Did they make it through to the real world too? Why not? If there are rules, then it feels like they are being applied inconsistently at least.

But for all that, the heart of Fear Her, the emotional heft, does feel convincing and genuine. Chloe's mother, Trish, nicely played by Nina Sosanya, is scared of her daughter and desperately pretending to herself that everything is going to sort itself out. But it is her very inability to engage with Chloe that draws the Isolus to their house, and it's only when Trish and Chloe connect that they can dispel the ghost of Chloe's father. It's good, it feels true - but it's a very slender spine that can't quite support the rest of this episode.

And also, as William pointed out, how does the singing make the living drawing go away? "I didn't understand that at all," he said. "Just how was the Father defeated? And how did Rose throw the ship-thing into the torch? It can't have flown there if it needed the torch itself to make it wake up." For all that, he still gave it a 7.

Chris was also a bit confused. "So the girl was the baddy and the goody then? Is that right? They really needed to explain how the song killed the monster." And he gave it an 8! Which, for him, admittedly, is quite a low score.


NEXT TIME...

Love & Monsters

I hadn't watched Love & Monsters since its first transmission and the reason is, I think, that I didn't want to have to make up my mind what I thought about it. I know better now, but back when it first aired, I was in the habit of lurking in the online forums; there was an immediate and lasting reaction, an extraordinary division of opinion. The fans either loved or hated it. If only because having an opinion would require me to pick a side, I ran away.

But we've watched it now, all three of us, and I'm still not sure what I think. The boys were absolutely certain. Once it finished, they slumped on the sofa with some dejection, as if I had rather wasted their time.

"The Doctor didn't do anything!" said William. (His only comment during the episode was when the TARDIS arrived to save Elton: "Oh finally!")

"You have to have the Doctor in Doctor Who," he carried on. "That's the point. The baddy only showed up for a short amount of time as well. It's weird this one. A lot of it just doesn't make sense."

Chris agreed. "The baddy wasn't scary, but he was good because he had a good disguise. He wasn't fat like a Slitheen. But I didn't like how the Doctor wasn't in it much."

What about Elton, I asked. Did they boys like him?

"I liked him a bit," said William begrudgingly. "But he's not the Doctor, is he!"

Given their strong reaction, I thought I should explain what had happened. I told them how this episode had been written to work without the Doctor and Rose so they could make another episode at the same time. I told them how it had needed to include the Abzorbaloff, the winning entry in a Blue Peter 'Design A Doctor Who Monster' competition. I also mentioned how some episodes just needed to be cheap. Once we'd gone through all that I asked them if they thought the writer had done the best he could to accommodate all those requirements.

"I suppose so," said Will. "I can respect that. I'll give it a six. No, wait. Five."

And the look that came with it suggested that Love & Monsters should consider itself lucky. Chris seemed far less perturbed and gave it a 7.

There are certainly some good things about this experimental episode. The idea of a story about how people are affected by the Doctor is a great one, and does necessarily suggest that the Doctor might not be around in order for us to see what his effect is. Marc Warren is very good as Elton, vulnerable and engaging, and some of the LINDA moments are sweet. But too often we get moments of pure filler, like the montage of Elton dancing around his bedroom. His emotional journey was highly effective the first time I saw this, but watching it again it felt forced and unconvincing: there's really nothing to his story. Peter Kay is pretty dreadful, both as the bland Victor Kennedy and the grotesque Abzorbaloff. There's no menace or chill to either of these characters and very little to explain what he's up to. If he can't track down the Doctor, how has he found LINDA or hacked Torchwood?

Having said all that, I still can't bring myself to hate Love & Monsters. There's nothing wrong with experimenting, and over many series there is plenty of time to give up to see how the Doctor's absence can be as powerful as his presence. The best thing about this episode is Jackie's brush with Elton and it seems that there was a missed opportunity. This could have been a Jackie-centric story - a chance for us to see even more of what life was like for her at home by herself, after the TARDIS has dematerialised. If she had somehow had an adventure, or become entangled with a support group like LINDA, I think that would have been a lot of fun.

I still don't know what to think really - but I am sure that this isn't the classic episode some believe it to be.


NEXT TIME...

The Satan Pit

The second half of this story can't quite match The Impossible Planet. It's a shame but only a slight one, and it shouldn't be too surprising that the resolution isn't able to meet the expectations raised by part one. As I hinted last time, the sharp end of fear is not knowing - once we get a proper look at what the scary thing is, we can start to rationalise it.

Much of this episode hinges around the sight of tiny David Tennant gurning away beside a giant CGI demon-thing. It's fine, but it's not the strongest thing about The Satan Pit. Unfortunately we had to be shown what we were dealing with, but how much scarier was it when it was just a voice in the dark?

When I found out that this episode would see the Doctor facing up against the Devil himself, I was sceptical to say the least. Wisely, we are told very little about the creature but there's still an attempt to claim that it might be the "reality behind the myth", which feels a little presumptuous. On the other hand, while there's just enough wriggle room for it all to work, perhaps some more context would have helped? If other similar ancient and powerful beings (Fenric?) could have got a mention then it might have felt less like we were being asked to accept a Biblical fancy as literal truth.

Still, lots to like. Best of all, for a part two there is almost no padding whatsoever. Everything feels important, whether it's Rose forcing the crew through the ventilation shafts or the Doctor mulling over his belief system in the darkness. He gets two big moments here, the first when his voice bolsters the humans and counters the doubts raised by the Lord of Lies. And then, at the end, he rationalises his way out of the trap - a very Doctorish thing to do. It's edited a little too energetically perhaps, and it's a shame that there's rather too much faith and not quite enough reason in his final decision but at least he is the agent of his own destiny. The sudden appearance of the TARDIS is disappointingly convenient, and why does the Beast chuckle at him if its consciousness has fled? But why would anyone nitpick any of that when we are caught up in the excitement of the climax? Rose continues to be in fabulous form. The way she takes charge, marshalling and motivating the crew is really impressive without it feeling like she is treading on the Doctor's toes. These are her best qualities, rolling up her sleeves, refusing to give up and challenging those around her to raise their own game. She even gets a bona fide action movie killer quip with which to dispatch Toby into space, and the show ends with a wonderful little moment in the TARDIS - the Doctor and Rose: the stuff of legend. Even though it's not a season finale, this two-parter operates on a grander scale: it's our first genuinely epic adventure of the new run.

William was mollified by events. "10! Total despair turns to victory! I liked that the Doctor was clever. But the Beast was freaky. And I'd like to know how the TARDIS got there." Well, quite.

Chris gave it an 8. "Really good. I really liked this story. This was very scary, but not quite as much as the last episode. I really enjoyed how the Doctor fought the Beast because he used his best talent: talking!"


NEXT TIME...

The Impossible Planet

This is just flat-out brilliant. It may not make the heart sing like The Doctor Dances, but that is not what it's for. The Impossible Planet is glorious Old School Who: there's a base under siege, the Doctor is almost immediately cut off from the TARDIS, and there's (either demonic or alien) possession. Best of all, this is very, very scary: literally, flee behind-the-sofa terrifying. Or it would be if our sofa wasn't up against the wall.

A distinct and unsettling atmosphere is achieved early on thanks to the Ood, the extreme setting and some beautifully haunting music. The visuals - the black hole, the base, the brilliant Ood design - are all fantastic, and the ensemble cast is very good too. But the best sequence in the story, and one of the scariest in the whole of Doctor Who, is the scene where poor Toby Zed is bedevilled by the strange voice in his room. Chris couldn't get behind the sofa so he did the next best thing at this point and crawled right up on to my lap, clinging to me. William had his arms folded before the episode even began. "I remember this one," he had said. "It's rubbish."

By the end it had become clear that what he had meant was, "I remember this one and I resent the fact that it is far too good at scaring me witless." As the possessed Ood advanced on the humans, Will was jumping up and down in his chair, deeply frustrated that the jeopardy was being maintained for as long as possible. "Use your gun! Shoot them!" (To be fair, I get like this about medical dramas. Why do the writers deliberately hurt all these poor people? And then make it worse by sending them to the same hospital that their estranged relative works at? It's just cruel.)

I had been looking forward to The Impossible Planet, but I enjoyed it much more than I expected. In fact, I don't think there's anything to dislike here. Even Rose is wonderful. For all that I've moaned about her on this blog, she really is on top form in this episode. She gets some great jokes ("Who are you? Chief Dramatist?") and the way that she adapts to her predicament is really admirable. As for her relationship with the Doctor, a lot is implied but nothing is forced upon us: unlike School Reunion or New Earth, there's a subtlety to these conversations (even, incredibly, the "we could share a mortgage" chat) that means the romance is there if the viewer wishes to look for it.

The boys haven't raised the subject once - I'll have to ask them about it. They were much too busy being scared to think about anything other than red eyes and awakening beasts. William's "It's rubbish" ended up as a 7. "Too much danger!" he said. "We don't have enough answers yet!" Christopher didn't mind so much and gave it a 9. "That was the scariest one yet," he said. "Even scarier than the Werewolf!"

I didn't say that, unlike Tooth and Claw, it won't stop being scary, even when they're grown up. The Devil knows that the moment you're allowed to turn around and look at him is the moment you stop being scared.


NEXT TIME...

The Idiot's Lantern

There's not much wrong with The Idiot's Lantern, but it is almost impossible to get excited about it. There have to be episodes like this, of course: jaunts, runarounds, pauses for breath between the epic battles. But we've just fled the Cyber-stomping of The Age of Steel, and next up it's the Satan-in-Space two-parter. In between all that, The Idiot's Lantern feels slight to say the least.

What's good then? Maureen Lipman, for one thing, who turns a brief appearance into a memorable villain. She combines the precise diction and glamour of a vintage continuity announcer with the preening malevolence and appetite of an alien predator; the The Wire is anything but two-dimensional. Her modus operandi is pure Doctor Who too. The blank faces of her victims are an excellent visual hook for the episode, as are the screaming faces on the television screens, and the sucking electro-tendrils. But for all that, there's something horribly inert about the victims and the Wire is sadly lacking in the sort of mindless henchmen that could provide this story with a more visceral sense of menace.

Instead we get Tommy's family drama filling up the dead space. It's quite touching and the outcome, although obvious, is not unsatisfying. If Jackie's Powell Estate sometimes has an Eastenders feel to it, the soapy elements of this sub-plot shouldn't surprise us either - the TARDIS has landed on Florizel Street after all. Tommy does get to play companion (thanks to Rose's disappearance), and the Doctor gets to interact once or twice with Mr and Mrs Connolly, but the way in which The Idiot's Lantern dwells upon the disintegration of their marriage feels quite alien to Doctor Who, even in the RTD era.

Ron Cook is very good as the tortured Mr Magpie, and there's a wonderful interrogation scene where the Doctor turns the tables on Inspector Bishop. But overall, this simply doesn't dazzle. The worst part: the Doctor shouting down Mr Connolly. Presumably it's supposed to be cathartic, satisfying? But why should the Doctor out-bully the bully? He's cleverer and better than that, isn't he?

The boys were underwhelmed too. William could only give it a 6. "It was freaky, but not scary," he said. "And how did the Doctor send all the faces back? If he explained it, I missed it."

Chris gave it a 7. "The face eating was scary, but it wasn't a very good baddy. At least only one person died." Not that we're keeping count, of course.


NEXT TIME...

The Age of Steel

After last episode's teasing and time-wasting, finally the Cybermen are unleashed. As a result this episode has some great moments. The Doctor creeping through tunnels filled with dormant Cybermen; the ghost of Sally Phelan rising from a faceplate; "This unit was Jackie Tyler"; the distraught Cyberman pawing at its distorted reflection. A lot of these moments are brilliantly ghastly and horrifically touching, but they all home in on the exact qualities that make the Cybermen different from other villains, each scene witnessed by blank staring faces, unfeeling, imperturbable. Best of all, the Cybermen unequivocally state their mission: to free humanity from pain and weakness. Ignore that Lumic's irksome personality survives his conversion and this episode can be seen as an effective restatement of Cyber-principles.

But if the theory is well presented, there isn't quite enough of the physical menace on show. All the Cybermen actually do is march about and direct human traffic, barely lifting a finger before it's time to blow their fuses. They do loom once or twice, and there are a few notable electrocutions, but my boys got a little frustrated.

"Why aren't they using their arm guns?"
"Why can't they detect the Doctor? Don't they have Heat Vision?"
"Did the sonic screwdriver just shoo them away? That's a bit rubbish."
"Can't they bash through that fence?"

Even here (arguably this is their strongest new series appearance) there's a sense that the Cybermen aren't being allowed to reach their potential. There's no doubt that their increased profile makes this the stronger half of the story - but they still have to share the episode. 

I can't begrudge the time spent on Mickey Smith. In many ways, despite far less screen time, his character has developed and improved far more than Rose's, and his 'arc', from inconsiderate jerk boyfriend to ignored and underestimated sort-of-ex, is as miserable as any in the new series (at least Rose and Donna have a load of fun before their sudden tragedies hit). So his story here is a good one. It satisfies, if only because we see how he doesn't deserve the treatment he receives from Rose and the Doctor. Two questions though. How does the Doctor know Mickey is watching him on the monitor? It can't be clever deduction, only something between blind hope and a lucky guess. And how is it that the Doctor treats Mickey the way he does? At times he completely forgets he exists! It's horribly callous and very out of character.

It makes sense that Rose should take Mickey for granted, however, just as it makes sense that she should then break down in tears at the thought he might escape her. She's never had any problem with abandoning him but she can't cope when the boot is on the other foot. That's very human, and good drama, but is she going to learn from this?

William thought she would. "This story was all leading up to Mickey leaving. Rose will be sad about that for a long time. She might even start thinking about leaving the Doctor herself."

Well, maybe. In the meantime, both boys earned their Hexachromite Doctor Who badges for this exchange during the explosive finale.

"I feel sad for the Cybermen."
"Yeah, I wish there had been another way."

So proud. This was the aspect of the story that really struck them  most. "At the end," said Will, "they weren't Cybermen, they were people. It was really sad."

"Yes," said Chris, "it was a good ending. But not as good as World War III."

He gave it an 8, William gave it a 9.

By the way, if, like me, you are still waiting for the definitive Cyberman story, you could do worse than read The Flood (or, in the UK, The Flood) which is bloody ace. 

NEXT TIME...

Rise of the Cybermen

It might just be that I'm flagging, but very little about Rise of the Cybermen excited me. For a start, it's the Cybermen. Don't me wrong, I think the Cybermen are tremendous baddies: implacable, relentless and creepy. It's just their potential has never been fully realised because a lot of their stories are awful. Do we need to go through all that? Suffice to say that the cliffhanger to episode two of Tomb of the Cybermen is as good as they ever get. Far too often, it feels like they have just been bolted on to a story that could have worked with any alien threat. Even Earthshock, that sacred Cybercow, would be just as good, if not better, with Zygons or Draconians instead. Cybermen stories should be about the Cybermen. They should be driven by the characteristics, the methods that make Cybermen different to, say, Daleks. Or else why use them?

What are these unique Cyber-factors then? Firstly, the horror of human conversion. They take us, they need us, and break our bodies and minds so that we fit their template. (See Revelation of the Daleks, The Parting of the Ways, Daleks in Manhattan and Asylum of the Daleks for examples of Dalek encroachment into this area). Coupled with this should come a sense of the Uncanny Valley: Cybermen should be unsettling because they are so nearly human. Secondly, logic. The Cybermen do what they do because it makes sense to them. Coupled with good organisational skills, this should make them cunning and almost unthwartable, but see The Wheel in Space, Revenge of the Cybermen, Earthshock, and Attack of the Cybermen for some really stupid and/or nonsensical schemes. Thirdly, lack of emotion. Whilst executing their well-prepared plan to harvest your human body, the Cybermen should show you no compassion. Or smugness. Or display a sense of betrayal. Fourthly, strength. Cybermen should tower and physically intimidate those around them.

Does Rise of the Cybermen tick any of these Cyber-boxes? Well, it is beginning to. The story takes some pains to explain the process of conversion, and we do get a sense of the horror of it all. We certainly see their strength and power when they crash through the windows of the Tylers' party. But we don't get anything else: so far, these new Cybermen are just hired muscle.

This is a problem. Nearly all of this episode is spent exploring a parallel world and the motivations of John Lumic that bring the Cybermen about. It is wasted effort. Lumic's presence downgrades the Cybermen to mere henchmen, devoid of their own agency. In this episode they are merely following orders and therefore their logic and their emotionlessness are irrelevant. If Lumic was more of a Davros, this would matter less, but Roger Lloyd Pack plays him with a demented panto glee that guts the character of any interest. He's a gurgling monster, when it's his humanity which should fascinate us and drive the creation story forwards.

And then, sadly, the rest of this almost entirely Cyber-less episode is just dull. The first thing that happens is that the TARDIS supposedly withers and dies, and several minutes are devoted to having the Doctor mope about as a result. Nobody watching this believes for a single second that the TARDIS is actually dead. Nobody. So why string out the suspense as if this was a genuine event?

This parallel world is not particularly interesting either. The point of a parallel world is to show us something about our own. The differences should matter to the story. The classic Doctor Who parallel world story is Inferno, where the Doctor travels sideways to an Earth where Britain has become an authoritarian fascist state. Faced with an identical threat, our world is saved and theirs is destroyed - the difference is the effect that the regime has had on the people in that alternative world: it has made them suspicious, selfish and violent and they effectively prevent the Doctor from saving them. In Rise of the Cybermen the differences are entirely cosmetic: airships and a president. It doesn't matter. It tells us nothing about ourselves.

The only significance of this alternative Earth is personal. Mickey has an identical equivalent and Rose's parents are both alive. Bringing back Pete Tyler only weakens the impact of Father's Day, an error that will be compounded by Doomsday. It's great to see more of Mickey, and of Noel Clarke (both have been considerably underused), but as fun as this is, it is only happening so that Mickey can be written out. He's superfluous to requirements, as we can see from the cruel opening scene in the TARDIS. None of this adds anything to this particular story and I can't help but think this could have been set on our world with only a few unimportant changes. By all means have them be 'invented' on our Earth (rather like the Ironsides in Victory of the Daleks) but they should appear much earlier in the episode, perhaps with a cliffhanger where the Cybermen turned on their creator and took control. Yes, it would mean losing a lot of set-up for Doomsday but this story would be better, and a better Cyberman story too. But it seems sometimes like the point of Doctor Who is to move Heaven and Earth to make Rose Tyler happy.

If I sound bitter, I am - but only in the context of this being a daft but brilliant TV show I've watched all my life. And this episode really is another missed opportunity to do something great with the Cybermen. They were all the boys wanted to talk about, certainly. They both awarded nines, but there was a lot of debate between them about the conversion process.

"Do they attach the person to the cyber body?"
"No, they said they cut out the brain. They have the body ready."
"They cut out the brains? That doesn't make sense. How would they stay alive?"
"They said something about a special fluid that kept the brain fresh?"
"While it is being cut out of the head?"
"I guess."
"That does not make sense. And, quite frankly, I did not need that image in my head."

That seems to sum the Cybermen up. They hardly ever make sense, and you don't want them in your head. Or your head in them.


NEXT TIME...

The Girl in the Fireplace

It's not perfect, but there's something wonderful about The Girl in the Fireplace, Steven Moffat's second contribution to the new series. Like The Empty Child, the plot is fuelled by mystery, but the main joy of this episode is a series of incongruities: a fireplace on a spaceship, robots under the bed, a horse in space. Moffat presses these two distinct Doctor Who environments (the Future in Space, and Period Costume Drama) so closely together that characters can literally step from one to the other in a series of breathtaking juxtapositions that are a visual feast all by themselves. In fact the ship is just as beautiful as the palace, and that final shot that reveals all is positively sumptuous - and brilliant storytelling.

Then there's the humour. This made us all laugh out loud and it may be the cleverest, funniest story since City of Death. The cleverness is important - it makes it funnier. This isn't Mickey running into a wall (which was, admittedly, funny), but a series of great gags that develop from the setting. And then, finally, the superlative line with which the Doctor talks the clockwork robot to death: "Listen, I'm not winding you up..."

As well as laughs there are genuine scares. Although confused and bit half-arsed, the clockwork antagonists are definitely creepy, their squiffy logic leading them to disassemble their human crew. They're also responsible for the first great fright of the new series as one of them grasps at the Doctor from under the bed. Such a simple idea: put the monster under the bed, but it is executed so brilliantly that William jumped clean out of his seat.

And romance! Well, this is the nub of it, isn't it? It's a beautiful little love story, told in fast-forward as the Doctor races through Reinette's life. Really, it's so brief, but despite that it still manages to feel weighty, to matter. If it felt insubstantial, if it didn't convince, then this episode would never work - but instead we are left with the Doctor alone with his letter in the TARDIS, heart-broken: an incredibly poignant image.

Except, that, it doesn't make any sense. Compared with the episodes around it, The Girl in the Fireplace feels like a sidetrip into another universe, one where the Doctor isn't inexplicably mooning all over Rose, and she, in turn, is actually being nice to Mickey. Five minutes ago Rose was slagging off Sarah Jane and desperately hoping Mickey wouldn't tag along to play gooseberry. Now she watches on with apparent equanimity as her Time Lord crush abandons her to live in 18th century France with another man's mistress. There's a good reason for all this, of course, which is that RTD never rewrote Moffat's scripts. If anyone else had turned this in, you can be sure that Rose would have ended up being blisteringly jealous of the Doctor's attentions, and he would have to have visibly dealt with the idea that he was somehow two-timing Rose with Reinette. As it stands, Rose has a good episode. She and Mickey have some larks on the spaceship and get into to trouble; she gets a couple of good jokes and a lovely scene where she and Reinette come to understand each other. In other words, she behaves like a normal companion. It really suits her.

The unfortunate upshot of Moffat's licence is that The Girl in the Fireplace highlights how annoying and ridiculous the Doctor/Rose love affair is. Taste is subjective, of course, and I can understand that Rose might be a laugh to hang out with, but I just can't see her as the Doctor's ideal woman: Reinette, River, Romana, heck, even Cameca, or Nerys Hughes from Kinda, all seem like a much better match. Ah well, we'll get to Doomsday eventually.

Is there something repetitive about Moffat's scripts? Well, yes. The ticking trick in Reinette's room is the same trick we had twice in The Doctor Dances (the tape and the typewriter), and we'll get it again in Silence in the Library ("Then why are there five people in this room?") - but it's such a good trick: showing the audience everything and then making them realise they have misunderstood what they've been looking at. And, yes, the Doctor/Reinette relationship echoes those with Amy and River Song, but so what - you might as well complain that Terry Nation was obsessed with plagues, or authoritarianism.

But there are some dodgy moments. I'm not sure we'll see the Doctor creeping around young girl's bedrooms whilst they sleep ever again. And I hope we never get a repeat of the shocking scene where the Doctor returns drunk from a party. I don't mind him being drunk. I mind him pretending to be drunk for no good reason and then announcing he has suddenly got some magic juice to pour over the robot to stop it killing everybody. It feels like sleight of hand.

Still, overall, very good indeed. William felt able to give it a 10 and Chris managed a 9. Will felt sorry for Reinette ("If I was her, only seeing the Doctor occasionally, I would be very sad." I'll explain to him about 1989 to 2005). Chris said, "That was a great story. It had complicated ideas but they were told in a simple way." And then, the perspicacious so-and-so that he is, he added, "It was a bit weird that Rose didn't mind wasn't it?"


NEXT TIME...

School Reunion

The universe is trying to tell Rose something, isn't it? Last week it was a telling off from no less an authority than Queen Victoria. This week, the Ghost of Companions Past drops by to pass on some intimations of mortality. Will she get the message?

Ah, our Sarah Jane! It's another sign of Doctor Who's increased confidence that it is prepared to flaunt its past at the new audience: School Reunion sets about addressing urgent questions that have been simmering away since 1976's The Hand of Fear (specifically "Was that Croydon?"). What's more it implicitly references 1981's failed K9 & Company pilot A Girl's Best Friend, and if that isn't reckless bravado, I don't know what is. Somehow, perhaps thanks to Doctor Who's miraculous new standing, nobody minds.

It helps that Lis Sladen's Sarah Jane is one of the best things from the programme's entire run. It's such a simple thing but she achieved it week after week: she convinced. Everything Sarah Jane did, every reaction she had, was compelling, engaging, and made whatever the ridiculous situation was seem as real and as terrifying as possible. For older viewers who remember her from the original series, her return reminds us that nobody else has ever really measured up since.

That's subjective of course. For the latest generation of fans, watching this in 2006, Rose is the companion. She's the be-all and end-all, the Doctor's very special friend and possibly more. The reappearance of Sarah Jane explicitly threatens this point of view and reveals her to be merely the latest in a long line of ephemeral companions. It's great that this episode explores these ideas, and great that drama can be leveraged from the casting mechanics of the programme itself. The relationship between old Sarah and new Rose is good too: the catty spats are entertaining ("Get you, tiger!") and the eventual rapprochement is satisfying.

I don't think I'm fair on Rose at all, by the way. Jackie often speaks of Rose getting 'airs and graces', an inverse snobbery suggesting that her daughter should know her place. My reaction is not based on class, but it is snobbery: I think Rose should know her place in the history of Doctor Who, because she can't stick around for ever. But I'm also convinced that the intensity of her relationship with the Doctor damages the show. The two of them form a closed circle with the viewer stuck on the outside looking in - and not having as much fun as they obviously are.

Mickey knows how this feels, with the added misery that he (unlike me) really loves Rose. The chemistry between them is borderline adorable - when she's bothering to pay him any attention whatsoever - so it's a big moment when he asks to come aboard the TARDIS at the end. Rose's reaction is a petulant shake of the head, desperate not to have her bubble burst. It's ugly, a moment of selfishness. Sarah Jane would never have behaved like that.

The rest of the story is okay - up until the Skasis Paradigm turns up. I don't have a problem with there being a Unified Theory that could be developed or thought up in order to manipulate matter, but these people talk about "cracking" or "solving" a "formula", as if the Skasis Paradigm was something that existed already, the code with which the universe was originally programmed. That prompts all sorts of questions about the nature of reality that nobody is any mood to have asked, let alone answered, lest this turn into something from the wrong sort of Matrix. Anthony Head's Krillitane chief is a lot of fun though, nasty but urbane and prepared to do business. It's about time he came back as somebody else isn't it?

The boys' point of entry for this was, of course, the excellent Sarah Jane Adventures. The happiness Sarah Jane later achieved in that series prompted Chris to worry that she was over-reacting a little here, before he changed his mind: "I suppose she has a right to be mad," he said. William, however, thought that Rose's behaviour was the more understandable. He was sad for the Doctor too. I didn't say, "Don't worry about him, he abandoned his own granddaughter and never looked back; he'll have forgotten all about Rose by the opening titles of The Runaway Bride," because, sadly, half of it isn't true. Chris gave this one an 8, Will, a 9, maintaining what they perceive to be a consistently high standard.


NEXT TIME...

Tooth and Claw

Or 'The Werewolf One', as it is known in our house. It's not surprising that a fairy-tale creature, the Big Bad Wolf himself, should provoke such an extreme reaction in the boys. Their brains are hardwired to be scared of beasts that could devour them and Tooth and Claw punches all the danger buttons. They are drawn to this episode (Chris said it was the one he was looking forwards to most), but also repulsed. Unlike the Daleks or Slitheen, the werewolf genuinely is the stuff of nightmares.

Tooth and Claw has a suitably spooky air to it, especially early on as the monks bait their trap and the wind blows across the moors under a leaden sky. And then, once the Queen's party have taken shelter in the house, the tension builds as night falls, the full moon rises, and dark tales are told by the crackling fireside. The suspense isn't wasted either. Thankfully when the werewolf arrives it delivers all the necessary scares, screams and thrills: smashing loose from its cage, dragging the Steward to his death and sniffing murderously at the library door. It is easily the most successful CGI creature we have seen to date. Credit must also go to Tom Smith's truly terrifying performance as its human host - he does a lot in a short amount of time to sell the horror of the creature. Elsewhere there's good support from the rest of the guest cast, especially Derek Riddell and Michelle Duncan as Sir Robert and his wife, Lady Isobel. Pauline Collins, though, is excellent as Queen Victoria, her performance rising far above mere caricature: this monarch is a real person, a product of her time, by turns appalled or delighted by events, and more often than not, capable of rising to meet the next challenge.

The Doctor does well here, too. He gets some good jokes, many good lines, and a great moment in the library where he cleverly solves the mystery. It's rare, these days, that the Doctor gets to demonstrate his intelligence (as opposed to his knowledge), so this scene is definitely another step in the right direction, cementing his presence as the central character of the show. But Rose is not having such a good day.

There's an ugly contrast between the way in which the horror and violence of these events affects the Victorians and Rose's reactions to them. It must be deliberate as well. This world of 1879 is treated with respect by the show so that the deaths (particularly those of Captain Reynolds and Sir Robert) have the impact that they might have in Rose's modern London. Rose's exhilaration rightly affronts everyone around her - except the Doctor of course. Nor can she stop herself trying to trick Queen Victoria into parroting her misattributed catch phrase "we are not amused" at inappropriate moments. It seems callous and disrespectful, especially compared with, say, Donna's compassion towards Caecilius and family in The Fires of Pompeii. The Doctor seems worryingly blind to it, but Queen Victoria is not. As with Mickey or Jackie on other occasions, she offers an external perspective on Rose and on her relationship with the Doctor. When Victoria gives her verdict she is utterly damning and the consequences of Rose's behaviour here will return to haunt her.

By bedtime I think it was fair to say that Tooth and Claw was returning to haunt Christopher, but I can't complain about children being afraid of giant slavering carnivores. It's surely a good thing. Both the boys praised the realisation and realism of the werewolf and declared this 'the scariest one ever' (knocking New Earth off its ill-deserved perch after only forty-five minutes). William gave it an 8 and Chris, for all his anxiety, gave it a 10. So being scary must be a good thing!


NEXT TIME...

New Earth

It couldn't last. After the grand departure of the Ninth Doctor and the triumphal debut of the Tenth, along comes New Earth to open Series Two and it is the first real disappointment of the new run. The problem is that there are lots of nice details, but they just don't add up to very much. Cassandra is fun, certainly, either in the flesh or hiding inside Rose, but she never feels like a threat, let alone a villain. The story should be the Cats' mistreatment of their test subjects, but we don't get enough of it; firstly Cassandra's presence muddies the waters, and then the patients themselves become the problem, lurching around the hospital, spreading disease. Pulled in three directions, the story loses its way. Although the Doctor heals the sick, he never gets to be seen defeating the Sisters of Plenitude. Although Cassandra is given her peaceful sendoff, it lacks the emotional hit of other episodes - we simply don't care about her enough. The only climax this episode has is the curing of the patients but it's sadly nonsense: the Doctor heals everyone by mixing all the medicines together and, weirdly, this desperate attempt at magic works rather than just poisoning everybody. It feels like an attempt to evoke the joyous ending of The Doctor Dances, but it comes across as contrived and unconvincing.

At least he does it himself. Once again the Tenth Doctor manages to impose himself upon the problem at hand, a marked difference to his predecessor. Suddenly both the character and the show have received an injection of vigour and it has done them the world of good. Tennant hits the ground running too, seemingly immediately comfortable in the role and displaying all the trademark compassion, anger and whimsy we now associate with this Doctor.

The design work is very effective, with excellent use made of the Wales Millennium Centre, and the cat masks in particular look fantastic (why weren't the Sisters the focus of the episode?). But some effects shots are weak and, impressive vistas apart, I don't feel that I've really seen much of New Earth by the end. Perhaps, if this were an episode 7, this wouldn't seem so disappointing. But it's the season opener and so expectations are higher.

Without the usual Next Time at the end of the previous episode, the boys watched this without any expectations at all. Chris gave it a 9. He thought this one was the scariest so far, claiming that the horror of the infected patients was more believable than the Gelth or Gasmask zombies we saw in Series One. Notions of disease and contagion do provoke instinctive disgust, especially in children - just look at playground reactions to ideas like 'The Lurgy'. Of course this makes it all the more impressive that the Doctor works to save these people, despite their unclean status. William also thought it was "incredibly scary", but he was more horrified by the inhumane treatment of the test subjects. He also said he wasn't keen on Cassandra coming back (he felt she had had her story) and gave an 8.

The Next Time made them sit up though. "OOOOH, the WEREWOLF one!" they cried. "Can we watch it NOW?"

Having just done some calculations (we need to watch 87 episodes in 98 days in order to be finished in time for the 23rd of November), I didn't hesitate. On it went, straight away.


NEXT TIME...

The Christmas Invasion

That first year of new Doctor Who was mad and glorious. Somehow that daft old show that I loved and everybody else thought was a joke had been transformed into a smash hit. Just two years before - the 40th anniversary no less - we had made do with The Scream of the Shalka; now Doctor Who meant billboards, trailers, action figures, universal acclaim, and a Christmas special.

In The Writer's Tale, Russell T Davies says of The Christmas Invasion: "It was the first time we were making a programme that we knew to be a success... the return of Doctor Who had gone from being this potentially odd, cult, short-lived experiment to a primetime bonanza - now with a Christmas Day slot! I think that's when we really set our eyes on the horizon, and decided to go for it."

The difference is marked. The first Christmas special has something of Dalek about it in the confident, almost brazen way, it goes about its business. This episode is about the absence of the Doctor. By keeping him bedridden, by withholding the new Doctor from us, RTD creates a sense of expectation, a need that builds and builds. Nobody can fill the void he has left, not Rose or Mickey, not UNIT, not Torchwood, not even the Prime Minister. It's a bold ploy and it really works. The longer we are kept waiting, the more exciting the Doctor's arrival becomes - and by the time Tenant throws opens the TARDIS doors we have already convinced ourselves he is the Doctor. Because who else would we be waiting for? It's the anticipation that makes this marvellous entrance work: another great punch-the-air moment, that steals up on the viewer as the Sycoraxic gently blurs into English.

But this story is also about the absence and return of Doctor Who itself. When Harriet Jones pleads on live television for the Doctor to reappear, she is speaking for the nation watching at home as much as those perched on the roof tops. After so long without the Doctor on our screens, this episode takes the time to revel in the success that the show has achieved. "Did you miss me?" asks the Doctor, personifying the swagger that the show now allows itself.

The change in the Doctor is fascinating and I can't help but think that the show's success is responsible. In that quote above RTD talks about the odd, short-lived experiment that he feared Season One might turn out to be. Perfectly reasonable, of course, but did those doubts, those low expectations find their way into the Ninth Doctor? It's astonishing how the Tenth Doctor instantly leaps into the centre of the action, taking on the Sycorax leader in a sword fight of all things! Eccleston's Doctor would never have done that and the difference is not anything to do with regeneration or Time War catharsis: the difference is surely the fear of failure, the anticipointment (love that word), dissolving from RTDs' brain as Doctor Who became a runaway success.

Success, though, can go to the head. I'm not suggesting for one moment that any of the production team suffered from big-headedness following that first year but, having now fixed the Doctor, Series Two's bugbear looms: Rose and her insufferable conceit that she and the Doctor will always be together. With that in mind, it's refreshing to see her behave normally in this episode. Those moments with Mickey, ambling around the Christmas shops, are delightful and remind us how surprisingly good these two are together. Later on, as the crisis deepens, Rose panics and flails about as if she was an ordinary human being and not the Most Important Being in Space/Time. Her ordinariness is a good thing. Her bravery here, when she tries to stand up to the Sycorax and falters, is much more endearing and impressive than, for example, the way she trash talks Dalek Sec as in Doomsday.

That's all to come. For now, The Christmas Invasion is a great episode, a very good post-regeneration story, and an impressive start for the Tenth Doctor and the new tradition of Christmas specials. It garnered scores of eight and nine from Will and Chris respectively. William liked the sense of scale (the largeness of the Sycorax ship, the threat of two billion ready to jump, the involvement of the Prime Minister), but he ruefully pointed out that Rose just couldn't cope when the Doctor was out of action. Chris loved the new Doctor and said the episode just wasn't very scary - but sometimes it impossible to tell whether or not that's a criticism.


NEXT TIME...

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...