Reaction: THE BIG BANG

Written by Steven Moffat, directed by Toby Haynes, 2010

Less a story than a puzzle box, though exhilarating The Big Bang can't help but be ultimately anticlimactic, given that nothing is resolved. I don't know what I was thinking, really, imagining that, say, the Dream Lord, or some similar vengeful supervillain would be responsible for the TARDIS' destruction. Obviously I reckoned without Steven Moffat's wormy brain.

I feel I should be annoyed by the ultimate lack of resolution to these events (and I’m sure lots of people will be), but actually, the delicious tortuousness of this story is perfectly adequate recompense. "Silence will fall," indeed?! I should have known nothing so mundane would be on the cards. The potential for multi-season arcs is quite intriguing, though one wonders what a general audience must have made of this story (if anything), let alone another self-involved conundrum down the line.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Less out-and-out dazzling than the preceding episode - the essentially four-handed structure makes it feel surprisingly small, and though, frankly, I prefer a bit of intimacy, it somewhat undercuts the epic threat - this final episode was nevertheless filled with numerous great moments, not least those when a chunk of the plot fell into place. There was still a touch too much exposition of the 'this is going to happen because I say this is going to happen' variety (for example, flying the Pandorica into the exploding TARDIS is in no way self-evident as a solution, rather something we have to take on trust). But, it still widdles over Davies' efforts, given that I don't immediately wish it could be purged from my mind.

I was expecting some sort of progression from the previous episode, akin to the initially baffling dream world with which Moffat's Forest of the Dead begins, so the "1,894 years later…" caption didn’t come as a massive surprise (incidentally, how satisfying must they be to write?!). The revisit of The Eleventh Hour's opening moments - the series coming full circle - was unexpected, but felt absolutely right, especially as it was actually great to see young Amelia again. Given the Doctor’s childlikeness, it seems odd this affinity hasn’t been exploited with child-companions before now (suddenly I have images of TV Comic's John and Gillian appearing on screen in the sixties...).

Similarly, I can't be the only person to have also welcomed the revisits to other previous stories, though it would have been nice if they’d been more integral. Considering how baffling this story could be though (if you didn’t pay attention), that might have been asking for trouble. Having said that, I wasn’t fully convinced that this would actually happen, on the basis of the scene where the Doctor briefly appeared to have regained his jacket in Flesh and Stone, which seemed almost too subtle to be anything besides a continuity error. However, it did appear to me that there actually was a continuity error this time round, as he seemed to have bare arms even when wearing the jacket?!

More than any of his previous series fnarg stories, this finale demonstrated the most outré elements of Moffat's imagination, as well as it arguably being here that he fully justifies his position as showrunner and head writer. Rory as a two thousand year old Auton - who'd ever have seen that coming?! That sort of unrestrained approach to storytelling is something always attributed to Davies, and which never quite worked for me - whereas here I think it does, the difference being that the story doesn’t coast on one or two elements. On the contrary, The Big Bang encompasses Roman Britain, 1996, calcified Daleks, Amy and Rory's long-awaited nuptials, a fez ("Fezzes are cool"), the TARDIS as a sun, and obviously "nonsensical time-travelling farce,” as Moffat puts it (nicely undercut by the future Doctor appearing and tumbling down the stairs).

Speaking of Daleks, it's entirely appropriate that it is one of them which forms the only sentient threat in this half of the story. I certainly can’t say I’m particularly upset that the alien alliance of The Pandorica Opens is pretty much irrelevant, simply serving as a means to put the plot into motion, so we're spared Doomsday-style interminable monster-smackdowns.

Probably unsurprisinglyly, I feel this is an episode which will repay rewatching in a big way, and already very much makes me want to return to the beginning of the season with the benefit of hindsight. I can't believe the Eleventh Doctor's first run is all over, but, gloriously, The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang has fully justified the poorer stories of the series (which, in fairness, are relatively few) – though, in light of the season's strong opening and closing, these become little more than forgivable lapses.

My only substantial reservation is probably an unfair one. That is that The Eleventh Hour formed such a perfect pilot that I feel quite cheated that Leadworth and the inhabitants we met in that episode didn't become at least semi-regular. Given the format established prior to this year, it does make Moffat's version of the series lacking in not having a central core in that way (if not in many other ways).

It’s either less… or more… than the sum of its parts – not sure which – but I loved it. A finale that I didn’t simply tolerate at best! Some of it is too easy (the Doctor and River’s escapes), but at least things don’t get overly laboured, and instead we just get on with the story. Pleasingly, both Rory and Amy are brought back without recourse to much-derided deus ex machina reset switches; the situations of their deaths were resolved rather than rescinded. Moffat’s definitely a keeper.

It doesn’t feel like a coherent, fully fleshed-out story in the way The Empty Child or Silence in the Library do – it’s too episodic for that, and maybe a bit too clever-clever for its own good. But, in dramatic terms it’s massively satisfying - even if there’s probably a billion plotholes, should one chose to enumerate them. I don’t, though. Dramatically, it works; the Silence apart, it ties up a season’s worth of adventures and enigmas, and the effortlessness with which Moffat essays the audaciousness of the plot is glorious.

Other observations…

• So was Amy not remembering Daleks (and, presumably, Cybermen) a symptom of the events here? Or something else? It didn’t seem explicitly addressed. (Oh, and the whole thing with the duck-less duck pond - I presume that was an oblique reference to the emptiness of chez Pond?)

• It’s funny how quickly we as the audience – and the Doctor – have come to take River for granted, despite (rather like Captain Jack) not knowing the first thing about her history or background. She also seems to have returned to the somewhat milder, (marginally) less arch figure of Silence in the Library, rather than the brassier portrayal of The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone.

Having her make a Dalek beg for mercy is an interesting development – though heavy-handed; yes, we get that she’s not necessarily that ‘nice’ – even if it does smack of yet more fan-teasing. Given that we have Moffat’s assurance that the next series will reveal more about her, I can live with that; I particularly can’t wait to see their first encounter (from her PoV).

• Matt Smith's evening wear is better than David Tennant's Paul Smith tux. Exciting that his costume is apparently being souped-up for future outings, but I’d be happy to see him retain his Edwardian spiv look, for a while at least.

In terms of this series at large, overall, Moffat hasn’t reinvented anything as such – rather added a fairytale/childlike veneer to the format he’s appropriated from Davies. Fortunately the format itself, since the show came back, is a strong one, and given that I prefer the slightly more magical approach Moffat has brought to the series, these are Good Things.

Perhaps my main overall criticism would be that Amy hasn't been given much chance to respond to what she experiences; there's been a slightly disappointing old series-style assumption that her thoughts should be implicit with the audience, whereas Davies brought the wonderment of the situation to the surface. This needn't be a constant, but it would be nice to see some acknowledgment that she has at least some self-awareness. Similarly, I don't really want to see a return to the domestic milieu of the companions' families (somehow I can’t imagine Augustus and her mum becoming major presences?), but at least glimpses of it throughout the next run might make her seem more rounded.

To be frank though, I’ve enjoyed the underlying tenets of this approach to Doctor Who so much more than the Davies era that any criticism is pretty much superfluous. The highest praise I can possibly give is that I am looking forward to Christmas and series six with excitement rather than apprehension.


Next Time: WHO KILLED KENNEDY

Reaction: THE PANDORICA OPENS

Written by Steven Moffat, directed by Toby Haynes, 2010

I hate season finales. Tediously overblown, messy, self-indulgent things. But maybe I should put that into the past tense.

Russell T Davies is the only writer to have previously tackled the slot designed to bring a season’s worth of stories to a climax. Therefore, more than any other element of this second era of revived Doctor Who, it’s impossible to discuss this series’ finale without comparing it to those of the previous showrunner.

In my Lodger review, I pondered whether Moffat would take a different route from his predecessor’s overblown approach, or instead try to out-Davies Russell with more of the same. The appearance of multiple alien races would appear to point to the latter – an escalation of Army of Ghosts/Doomsday’s Daleks versus Cybermen more-is-more principle. In practice though, that Moffat undercuts this expectation is representative of the previously un-furrowed direction in which he takes The Pandorica Opens.

Despite the scale deriving from its culmination of various season-long strands, there’s a surprisingly restrained – and in that sense, decidedly un-Davies approach to this story. Which is not to say that it is restrained, but by comparison to the previous new series finales at least there’s time to breathe.

Inevitably, this episode will be described as something of a synthesis of Davies and Moffat’s approaches, with the often ultimately hollow spectacle of the former reinforced by the latter’s more assured way with a complex plot. And it works. For once, I was as excited about a finale as I evidently was always intended to be, a possibility which was always destroyed by the looseness and lazy crowd-pleasing of the previous stories in this slot - to say nothing of the excruciating celebrity cameos.

Most telling, perhaps, is the evident comparison between the mysterious Sphere in Army of Ghosts and the mysterious Pandorica: one is in a deeply dull research facility, and has some Daleks in it. The other is under Stonehenge! In a creepy gothic vault! It might be massively clichéd, but at least it has atmosphere. I know what I prefer. Oh, and, it doesn’t have some Daleks in it.

It’s nigh-on impossible to accurately judge a two-parter on the basis of one episode, and in fact, The Pandorica Opens feels rather more like the pulling together of various strands than a coherent story in its own right. However, it performs its function rather gloriously, and if making the narrative itself rather disjointed is the only end-of-season concession we’re going to get under Moffat, then - ehh, I can live with that.

The cracks, the TARDIS explosion, the Pandorica, Rory’s return (which, miraculously, doesn't actually renege on his death in Cold Blood with a direct reset-switch), Amy’s past – obviously, all these things aren’t fully resolved here, but for once it’s actually exciting seeing them coming together, rather than tiring, and makes the Bad Wolf and Saxon memes seem even more inadequate. Where those seasons literally led toward an answer to ‘What/Who is it?’, there are multiple elements at work here, making both trying to predict what will happen - and enjoying the revelations as they come - far more rewarding.

What’s most satisfying is the dexterity with which Moffat handles these various threats: the Pandorica itself being the ultimate case in point, the revelation of its function seeming immediately obvious, in the most gratifying way; it had to be linked to the Doctor, but…

Similarly, the various races’ relationship to one another, again undercutting the Doomsday-on-acid thing, is a similarly simple but effective bit of sleight of hand. It made me think of Jonathan Morris’ DWM strip Death to the Doctor!. It fact, the monster axis of evil has a very comic book feel, albeit located within a contrastingly complex situation. If the story had been merely what it appeared to be - Monster Smackdown, or even Monsters versus Romans – it would have been severely naff. It’s also a bonus that this isn't 'just' a Dalek story or a cyber-story, cos, really, we don’t need that, and it wouldn’t be anything special for a finale.

That all this is going on alongside Auton Romans (who saw that coming?), the return of Rory (with another major nod to Mickey), and Amy’s apparent death, is fantastic – none of these would have been so thrilling individually (whereas any one of these things might have been a major element of a Davies finale), but have a cumulative power that left me literally jaw-dropped – something I cant say happens very often. And in the best way – thrilled, slightly overwhelmed, and amused at the script’s audacity, and at my own complicity in not seeing any of this coming.

There is also what seems like a very deliberate attempt to do a Stolen Earth early on, and cement this season’s status as a self-contained era in its own right with the appearance of various characters from earlier stories. It’s funny, I’d already found myself musing, earlier in the run, on the idea of situation where characters like Churchill and Liz Ten might return en masse – like the celebratory New Adventure Happy Endings - and it’s brilliant (and unexpected!) to actually see something akin to that. There have been a number of particularly brilliant pre-titles sequences this season, a damn-sight less perfunctory than in previous years, and the appearance of van Gogh, Churchill, and only bloody Liz Ten (meeting River!*) is massively impressive – in delivering a really obvious bit of audience-pleasing, without it seeming offensively unnecessary.

At various points during the writing of these reviews, I’ve wondered how unfairly biased I am toward series fnarg. I really don’t like Davies’ general approach, whereas I really like Moffat’s stories and mentality: I was probably always going to cut him some pretty substantial slack. But this run of recurring characters is the sort of thing I hated The Stolen Earth or The End of Time for, yet here… Perhaps it’s because it’s genuinely woven into the narrative. Not the overall story, perhaps, but part of the set-up, a chain of events, in a way that that Sarah or the Torchwood team’s arbitrary involvement, or the Tenth Doctor’s dying rounds, didn’t.

Quite apart from the characters, in this case I loved seeing such varied settings – Provence, the war rooms, the Stormcage (even if it was another one of those over-used Cardiff locations), the cartoony jungle planet, Liz Ten’s gallery (love that she provides the security herself…) - even the Star Wars-y bar where River does her dirty deal. All those situations add to an impression of the expansiveness of the Doctor’s universe, whereas a role-call of former companions only emphasised the insularity of the Tenth Doctor’s world.

Okay, so, this story wasn’t without its flaws. I think the Pandorica prop wobbled at one point, for example. Ooh, that’s not going to be pretty in HD! And then there’s all the little niggly points – who woke the Silurians up to be part of the alliance when they won’t even meet the Doctor for a couple of thousand years? (That we know of, admittedly – but I’ve got my Outraged Ming-Mong hat on. It has a bobble.) How comes the Cybus Cybermen have a fleet? How does Rory nobble a Cyberman (even a battered one) with a sword? Hmm? More importantly, do we care…? Well, no.

Flagrant disregard for continuity bugs me; what can I say – I’m a fan. But, for once, I really get the immediacy of the big, fast, shocking, involving finale. And I say finale like it’s separate from any other type of story, because I think it is. It’s a different format, where the story is drawing on things that have been established over several weeks, and has to bear the extra weight of those snowballing expectations. And, previously, the series has always flunked for me, and failed totally to deliver on those expectations. The series two and three finales are among the most hateful of new Who stories for me, the moments where phrases like ‘dumbed down’ and ‘lowest common denominator’ really come in handy.

But, I actually – can I say it? – kinda loved this. I’m writing immediately after watching, which I don’t usually do, so it’s probably not the most balanced of reactions - but that’s sort of part of the fun. It was invigorating and actually shocking, mainly because it didn’t entirely jettison the intelligence and little twists of Moffat’s mindset.

There is always that worry of how enjoyable something’ll be when you know all its secrets – how much will be left? – but let’s ignore that for once. What’s perhaps most exciting is not having a clue what to expect from episode thirteen. I imagine it’s unlikely to hang around the under-henge for too long, and hopefully it’ll end with Rory and Amy finally tying the knot. But whose is that voice? Next week I’ll probably sound as stupid as those people who thought Omega might be in the Pandorica, but – the Dream Lord…?

If this series had ended on a damp squib (…and I do realise there is still time for that), I might’ve found it hard to overlook my disappointed with fairly hefty swathes of the year’s stories. But it looks set to go out with a (big) bang, and in that case, I’m happy to overlook the saggy middle.


*Something The Guardian suggested back in week two, although it – and I - hoped for more of a bitch-off.

Reaction: THE LODGER

Written by Gareth Roberts, directed by Catherine Morshead, 2010

A slightly different version of this article can be read here, on Kasterborous.

Well, that was a bloody improvement. After the dud contributions from Messrs Gatiss, Whithouse and Chibnall, it's heartening - albeit belatedly - to see that not all the new series writers have (quite literally) lost the plot. Not that the plot per se of this episode was anything more than a framework to drape a concept around, but that becomes forgivable when said concept is such a corker. Like Amy's Choice, a simple premise - the Doctor lodging in a house which, essentially, eats people - fares much better than this season's attempts at large-scale stories, while also avoiding the pitfalls of the two-wildly-different-stories-smashed-together approach, as modelled by Richard Curtis' preceding Vincent and the Doctor. Personally, I haven’t read the comic this story is based on, but with such a delicious ‘why hasn’t anyone done that before?’ central idea, it isn’t at all surprising that it’s the latest story from the spin-off media to make it onto the small screen.

In common with Simon Nye's episode, there's a sense of this story making good on the season's promise, the bold-but-twisty, storybook-tinged style premiered in The Eleventh Hour. (So much so that it felt credible that Prisoner Zero could be making a return appearance. Albeit sans dog.) There are certainly shades of that story in the Aickman Road house and its textbook-creepy upstairs neighbours (which is to say nothing of other familiar moments like the ‘possessed’ speaker and a combination of The Unicorn and the Wasp’s ‘stimulating the enzymes’ and The Christmas Invasion’s tannin fetishisation).

Outside of Moffat’s own episodes, relatively little of season fnarg has lived up to the fresh stylistic approach of its earliest episodes, mainly inhabiting a more generic version of the Doctor's universe, but, despite being set in unremarkable environs, The Lodger’s Colchester does feel something of a spiritual cousin to Leadworth. It’s surprising for a somewhat unassuming story - which it might be assumed would be filed alongside other equally low-key suburban stories like Love and Monsters and Fear Her - would be one to realign the season with the Moffat house-style most successfully. Not that it doesn’t have similarities with those season two stories, most notably the former - though James Corden, despite apparently doing his best to become an eminent hateable nonentity in real life, brings a shade more realism to the borderline-useless everyman catapulted into the Doctor’s life which both stories share.

Roberts' effort also wins out over those episodes’ Barratt Homes soullessness by acknowledging that perhaps there should, or at least could be more to life than pizza-booze-telly. While it is perhaps unappealing for every single guest character the Doctor meets to come away with an epiphanous new outlook on life, the resolution of Craig’s unrequited love is certainly preferable to the equivalent woman in Marc Warren's life being transformed into what I think Lawrence Miles memorably called a 'concrete fellatio machine'. By contrast, this story addresses legitimate fears about the crushing monotony of “work, weekend, work, weekend,” and it’s pleasing to see that though the Doctor may have been out of his depth when faced with van Gogh’s mental state, he can inspire Daisy – and without it feeling heavy-handed or mawkish. Win!

It's easy to forget how relatively short a period it has been since Doctor Who returned to television, and despite those four and a bit years peppered with Russell T Davies' trademark 'realist' settings, it's still quite a surprise to see the Doctor placed in such a rigorously ordinary environment. Human Nature aside, we've never seen the Doctor so fully immersed in day to day life (in 47 years, this is, what, the third time we've seen him have a bath or shower? And I’m sure a lot of people will thank Roberts for that. Drinking milk while wearing a towel, this could suddenly be anything other than Doctor Who). In fact, it seems absurd to imagine (say) the Third Doctor popping round the Brigadier's pad for cribbage and a Heineken. (Or... whatever.)

Obviously, this unexpected culture clash forms the crux of the episode, and it's perhaps the closest we've had to the Doctor as a Starman/Watt on Earth*-style alien-baffled-by-everyday-life. Fortunately, Roberts makes this chestnut funny rather than tedious (“Call me the rotmeister. No, I’m the Doctor, don’t call me the rotmeister”), and doesn’t seem too out of character, despite this season alone (and the new series at large) having already demonstrated his greater knowledge of the minutiae of human life than previously acknowledged (internet porn and Kylie Minogue, anyone?). Incidentally, I’m almost glad we don’t know how the Doctor got hold of £3000 in a paper bag over the course of one day.

There's arguably a danger that Matt Smith's Doctor is becoming an out and out comic figure in a way perhaps only formerly true of Tom Baker, predominately during season seventeen. For a lot of people that won’t be a bad precedent, but, given that the whole series was pitched at a more blatantly comic register, it does give rise to the question of how appropriate it is to the 'dark fairytale' stylings of the Moffat administration. In fact though, the Doctor's eccentricity may be exaggerated (the air-kisses…!), but Smith is in the enviable position of making it seem perfectly natural, and in fact delivers what may prove to be one of his definitive performances as the character. Also, whereas Fourth Doctor would probably be too aloof and alien for such a domestic arrangement, the Eleventh's constant state of wonderment and enjoyment of the situation is what brings this rather glorious concept alive.

Having said all that, perhaps with a (one hopes!) climactic finale on the way, we may yet see the Doctor acknowledge the weight of events – tune in next week, kids. Depending whether Stevesie (I'm getting tired of typing 'Moffat'; silly name anyway) goes down a gravitas-laden path, or ramps up the big overblown thrills’n’spills and out-Davies Davies. Either way, we know the next episode has the unlikely distinction of namechecking both Chelonians and Drahvins, so my geek-spot is already tickled.

Already the first outing for the revived series' second era is coming to an end, and, it has to be said, it's been a mixed bag. For what it's worth, on a personal level, the leads and the general timbre of the series - both richer, more whimsical, but also more traditional than the last few years – are a joy, so I’m prepared to overlook the slides into mediocrity. It’s just unfortunate that these have mainly come later in the run, giving the impression of a series that's lost its footings after a confident and original take at the get-go.

The Lodger goes some way to assuage those disappointments though, and as the last 'basic' one-episode story of the Eleventh Doctor's opening run, it's a welcome reminder of the deftness that has been displayed throughout the season, if not consistently. A relatively minor detail, but – by way of example - this story continues a trend this year for memorably self-contained pre-titles sequences, transcending arbitrary Deaths of the Week – The Time of Angels, Amy’s Choice, and even The Beast Below spring to mind.

Also, that Matt Smith shines is a given, but for those who've lost patience with the slightly one-note nature of Ms Pond's character development, her less-is-more involvement can't help but make the heart grow fonder. All Karen Gillen is required to do may be some shaky-TARDIS acting and talking to a gramophone horn, but she still does it rather lovely…ly. (Although you would be forgiven for thinking she'd already ticked the Amy-lite episode off her contract with The Hungry Earth.)

If an episode like this - and its earlier fellow standout, Amy's Choice - demonstrate anything (and really, we should know this already), it's that small-scale stories with a solid, simple concept and small but well-chosen casts, are, frankly, the way to go. (Especially given the visible strain budget cuts have apparently placed on some of the grander FX requirements of this series. By contrast, the pseudo-TARDIS upstairs is quite a magnificent set - up there with that in Mark of the Rani: praise indeed!).

This is a deceptively effective episode, and one that may perhaps be easy to dismiss given its frivolity. However, in its effortless blending of equally effective humour (“Those keys – you’re sort of… fondling them”) with genuine creepiness, in a far more equal balance than, say, Vampires of Venice, The Lodger is in a position to become something of a high benchmark for the Smith era. More like this for next time, please.

*That’s the last time I’m ever namechecking that series. Written by Pip’n’Jane Baker, fact fans!

Reaction: VINCENT AND THE DOCTOR

Written by Richard Curtis, directed by Jonny Campbell, 2010

I’ve been hedging my bets about Richard Curtis’ contribution to Doctor Who. However, though his films may be the cinematic equivalent of the four riders of the apocalypse, in Vincent and the Doctor he’s delivered a story that sits at the higher end of this series - despite being somewhat unbalanced and seeming to pull in two directions.

The chasing-invisible-monster bollocks seems extraneous, being by far the least interesting section of the story. The atypically 'Doctor Who-y' areas of the script, on the contrary, are far more compelling, perhaps suggesting that Curtis isn’t a natural when it comes to the fantastical. (A more abstract threat would perhaps have felt more appropriate.)

The emotional side of this story, though the more effective element, is still relatively unremarkable, given that the new series routinely explores its characters' emotional states to some extent, along with now-customary heartstring-tugging. What’s most disappointing though is the distinction between the character-led parts of the script and the alien turkey parts. It’d be far more preferable to have these two sides integrated, potentially creating a greater whole than either approach could individually – something previously achieved in Human Nature and Silence in the Library.

Particularly because of this, I'm not sure there’s anything that really distinguishes this as the work of A Famous Writer (not that there’s necessarily a correlation between fame and talent… obviously). Nevertheless it's far preferable to the weakest stories this season, and has a touch of the insouciant confidence of Steven Moffat’s own scripts, for example in its switching between locations.

The main strength of Vincent and the Doctor though has arguably less to do with the writing than with Tony Curran's quite phenomenal performance. It is perhaps telling that Vincent van Gogh with a broad Scottish accent doesn’t seem jarring, or even notable. The regional accents in the cafe rather wonderfully evoke The Massacre – given the 44 year gap, I presume this is unintentional (if probably not unacknowledged), but it’s pleasingly used in exactly the same way, to suggest differentiations in class whilst avoiding the horrors of dubious euro-accents. Nice too that this isn’t a point that’s laboured (it isn’t even pointed out that the locals are really speaking French), though it is suggested by the Doctor’s accent sounding Dutch to van Gogh.

Obviously any portrayal of van Gogh would be lacking without an acknowledgment of his mental health, and it’s striking to see Doctor Who presenting depression in a relatively unsantised way, especially without ‘tackling it’ per se, or becoming didactic. Admittedly, the self-pity gets heavy handed, but the celebrity historicals have never been subtle (the ‘best painter/writer EVAH’ hyperbole grates).

The scene showing van Gogh’s unexpected anguish and aggression flaring up whilst laying on his bed is the most memorable, brave and heartbreaking part of the episode, all the more because the Doctor can’t do anything about it. Similarly, the coda (pretty much the story’s raison d’être) could have been as saccharine as you’d expect from Curtis – I suppose it is, really, but Curran sells van Gogh’s overwhelmed disbelief so effectively that it becomes something far more human than that.

Maybe this is a purely personal prejudice, but there’s something far more compelling about having the Doctor encounter a painter rather than yet another writer, mainly because writing is impossible to portray on-screen, so is almost something the audience is expected to take on trust. The story doesn’t (quite) overdo showing Vincent painting, but his work is physically there throughout, not to mention the canvases and brushes, etc.

“One of the foremost artists of all times” is an arguably nonsensical label, but I’d be interested in seeing the Doctor encounter an artistic figure again. If we’re ever to have the Doctor meet another painter, it strikes me there’d be lots of fun to be had with ‘the Doctor meets Dalí’. (Having said that, I just imagined CGI melty clocks, so maybe Dalí’s association with moving image is best left to Spellbound and his collaborations with Buñuel.)

Yet another unconvincing CGI monster with no sense of physical presence or weight is a major drain on goodwill toward this story (and it is especially annoying that it looks far better in the production sketches the Doctor’s (entirely unnecessary) wing-mirror gadget prints off). The hammy ‘invisible acting’ is a bit unfortunate, too. But, the script does bring out the best in its performers, so I suppose I can let it go; there’s an effortless understanding of this Doctor that was missing in the previous two episodes, which felt like a broad, comic-strip style approximation of his characterisation. Smith is at his spazzy best here, all fluttering limbs and gawky wannabe-cool attitude, and some good one-liners. “This would never have happened with Gainsborough...”

Visually, as befits an episode where aesthetics are a part of its makeup, the location filming does look lovely on its own terms, and I suppose it’s churlish to lament that it is all too obviously Trogir doubling for a second European location within a few episodes. Although, there’d be no way of recreating or finding convincing equivalents for the low-roofed cottages and 'Provence' countryside in Wales, so the obvious non-Britishness almost makes it seem as if the Doctor could turn up in unrecreatable locations like… a glacier, or Machu Picchu, or African savannah, if a story demanded it.

There’s also some welcome stylistic invention (most notably the shots utilising a turntable in the Musée d'Orsay at the end) – could have done without the indie landfill dirge on the soundtrack though, which feels inappropriately unnecessary. For some reason the throwaway moment of the funeral procession passing seemed strangely filmic, though.

Though enjoyable, sort of hoping this might be a grower.

Points for further baiting oversensitive redheads everywhere (or maybe oversensitive mothers?), who will no doubt misinterpret the “ultimate ginge” line.

Reaction: COLD BLOOD

Written by Chris Chibnall, directed by Ashley Way, 2010

Wow, congratulations, Mr Chibnall, that was even shitter than last week. I really was hoping this story might improve… but it was evidentially not to be. I found Cold Blood quite heinous – as I keep saying, much as I appreciate the general approach, tone, etc, of this season, that just makes missteps like this even more inexplicable and lamentable.

This story really feels like a renege on this season’s earlier promise; if The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone had been swapped with this, at least the season would’ve felt like it was improving.

Of the stories I’ve liked less, Victory was just kind of lame, while Vampires of Venice was funny but not much else – but this has no redeeming features. So much so that, forgive me, I’m going to resort to bullet points (a sure sign a story just isn’t worth bothering with).

Trad in the worst possible way, this episode was riddled with averted executions and convenient rescues – which actually make me very glad the new series ordinarily ploughs a new furrow. It might make its own mistakes, but at least they’re relatively novel mistakes.

Particularly glaring old school elements:
• A return to a rag-tag team of misfits alternately standing around awkwardly and running through corridors.

• The ‘villain’s dead – or is she!’ moment.

• The waddling Mindwarp-like scientist and clichéd wise elder role.

• Crappy, hammy deaths.

• Not one but two lame-o peril-averted-at-the-nick-of-time moments (“Fire!” “STOP!”). And, really, the dissection – is that acceptable as a cliffhanger resolution these days? He’s going to dissect the companion… oh, he was interrupted. That’s IT?

Other bad things:
• There does seem to have been some resistance to Karen Gillen/Amy within fandom, which I haven’t agreed with - but this script seems to have brought out the worst in absolutely every aspect of the production. I can suddenly see how her delivery could grate, being irritatingly one-note and arch regardless of the situation she finds herself in. Similarly, after she’s picked the pocket of a would-be dissectionist, I also get what people mean about her preternatural unflappability and competence. I’m going to be charitable and put that down to this one-off lapse in the writing though.

Similarly, this story actually manages to make the Eleventh Doctor seem like the adolescent imposter everyone was worried Matt Smith might turn out to be (which he mainly hasn’t) - all ‘zany’ dialogue and by-numbers moral condemnation in place of actual characterisation.

• The voiceover seemed like a rather desperate attempt to invest the story with some gravitas, but felt inappropriate and unnecessary.

• Bizarrely, the seemingly sledgehammer foreshadowing of Elliot’s dyslexia came to nothing. Maybe more cuts?

• The “dressed for Rio” ‘gag’ doesn’t even work – she’s wearing a (p)leather jacket, FFS.

• Meera Syal, though I like her, just isn’t that… good, in this context.

• There’s no fictive justification for the Silurians’ mask, which destroys suspension of disbelief because there’s no other way to view them than from a production PoV – ie, that they couldn’t afford prosthetics. The fey minidresses don’t help.

Having said that, given how shittily plastic the Silurians’ masks looked in teasers and publicity photos, they actually look a great deal better than the creatures’ faces proper. I guess I’m just a monster-monster person, rather than a people-monster lover.

• The Planet of the Apes-style trumpeting horn section. Nuff said.

• That there was no twist to Alaya knowing who’d killed her – well, of course it was the sour-faced harridan. Rory would’ve been more interesting.

• Cringeworthy fanfic sci-fi names: ‘Restac’?!

• Really obvious reuse of the location from The End of the World and Gridlock.

• And finally, the mind-bogglingly convenient ‘well, we’ll just go back to sleep then’ dénouement.

In the interests of balance (god forbid anyone think I’m not balanced) - good points:
• Rory, who I really like having along… Oh. (I do still wish for a 100% companion figure who simply happens to be male, though - Jack was a Doctor-surrogate, and Mickey and Rory wouldn’t be along for the ride if it weren’t for their other halves, the primary companions.)

However, even Rory’s death seems like a gyp (well, it obviously is); he’s been so blatantly set up as a dupe that it feels like the story arc contrivance it undoubtedly is, rather than a meaningful event in its own right. Especially as it was done (better) two weeks ago in Amy’s Choice.

• Robert Pugh.

• Nice to have a Doctor who’s good with children – it suits the storybook take on the series, and seems natural given his appeal to (and affinities with) that demographic. Strange this never really been done before

• Not so much ‘good,’ but it did amuse me that the Silurians’ camera system was apparently programmed to do crash-zooms at dramatic moments.

Anyway, I’m done with this story. Onward and (hopefully) upward.

The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood has been likened to a take on the trademark moral ambiguity Malcolm Hulke introduced into his scripts, but it comes off as a flaccid knock-off, with considerably less sophistication. In fact, its wannabe moral complexity has nothing on Doctor Who and the Silurians. The new series is obsessed with making every character likeable and giving everyone a redemptive moment, so much so that it comes at the expense of the story itself. The seventies had a much more pragmatic approach, in that many of the guest characters didn’t really ‘matter’ – and I mean that in a good way. Imagine a Doctor Who and the Silurians where Miss Dawson, hysterical PA, was considered worthy of her own emotional arc; I’m really not convinced that’d add anything.

While it’s pointless to say any particular stories from wildly different periods of the show (and of TV itself) are ‘better’ or worse than one another, that a modern story nods so clearly to a previous period, and not only manages to make a total hash of things, but also remove the elements which gave the earlier period its depth (namely its uncompromised and unshowy approach to the morality of the situation)… well, something’s gone tits up, hasn’t it?

Reaction: THE HUNGRY EARTH

Written by Chris Chibnall, directed by Ashley Way, 2010

At least with a real unadulterated stinker, you know it's fairly unlikely many people are going to turn round and say it was brilliant. The trouble with inconsequential, nothingy filler like this is how many people will be won over by it - which is grim, because this is a lazy, lazy story. I have no problem with writers showing their influences, but when you can tick off a handful of blatant precedents from within the series (Doctor Who and the Silurians (obviously), Inferno, The Dæmons, The Green Death, Frontios, Father's Day), something's severely wrong. Whether deliberate references or not, that forcefields round villages and bodies being sucked underground and Welsh mining villages facing deadly danger have all been done within THE SAME SERIES, one has to worry.

Everything about this story creaks. Though realised perfectly well, this sort of tedium just isn’t really worthy of anyone's time. And what's worse is knowing the production team think they're doing something new and relevant. All the bollocks on Confidential about how the Silurians need reinventing - a mentality I loathe anyway, and no, they don't; they didn't even need to come back. There's a disproportionately massive build-up to their appearance within the story, but, really, who gives a shit about the Silurians? Of the past series' established returnees which haven't already been plundered, the Ice Warriors are about the only ones with any potential mileage left. The Silurians - really?! And then to redesign them to within an inch of their lives, so they have almost nothing to do with their previous realisation, surely defeats the object of their reappearance anyway.

If the new design were a success, I wouldn't pooh-pooh it on general principles alone; I’m pooh-poohing it not because it's a new design, but because it’s so much less memorable than the original. At least they could have kept the third eye, which was the defining featuring of the original, as well as a fairly interesting idea (is a really poor CG tongue actually any better?). We've all seen slightly rubbery reptile-people on screen before. These are entirely undistinguished, and much as they may be better in terms of allowing individual characterisation, there's nothing to define them from any number of creatures from Buffy or Farscape. I can’t be the only person who instantly coveted the alternative updated-but-recognisable Silurian maquette briefly glimpsed in Millennium FX’s workshop on Confidential.

I have my worries about the sheer amount of recurring monsters this year; it smacks of Moffat trying to have his cake and eat it, with a new Doctor, companion, TARDIS interior, titles sequence and theme arrangement - but then loads of ‘safe,’ familiar enemies.

This does make me ponder though what monsters I’d bring back if (…when!) I have the opportunity to do so. In fairness, anything other than the Daleks and Cybermen, and maybe Sontarans (at a really charitable push) isn’t going to mean the first thing to anyone outside of fandom, so the difference between the Zygons and the Vervoids coming back would be entirely meaningless. (Although, as long as it’s done well, any recurring race should be able to have the same impact - as long as they aren’t handled as if every single casual viewer should know their entire backstory, as in the early eighties.)

There must be something to be said for journalists being able to Wikipedia old monsters, which I suppose amounts to a little extra publicity, but really, besides the big-hitters… I wonder whether Russell T Davies or Steven Moffat are ever tempted to bring back something really shlocky (I’m choosing to ignore Gridlock, as the Macra amount to little more than an in-joke) – maybe do an Alien Bodies on the Quarks or the Voord or something. (Knife-wielding rubber-clad ninjas? That works.) Or maybe something which never troubled a general audience first time round, like the Haemovores.

It’s often said in regard to lamentable, unforgivable Hollywood remakes (of either stone-cold classics – like the eternal triumvirate of never-should-have-been-allowed desecrations: The Wicker Man, Get Carter, and The Ladykillers - or fast-turnaround English-language cash-ins like the US Let the Right One In or the mooted Will Smith Oldboy) – why not remake something that was crap to begin with, rather than sullying the original? I can’t help feel the same mentality might be a preferable approach to returnee monsters – lets face it, a fan’d get a thrill whether it’s the Voc Robots or the Dominators that’s coming back, so surely it’s preferable to improve something rather than risk damaging the original.

Anyway, it does feel like the series needs to do something different, otherwise we’re in for an endless parade of rehashes of adequate but uninspired (seventies) monsters: the Axons, the Krynoid, giant maggots, the Draconians, etc, etc…

I'd feel slightly more charitable about a still ill-conceived 'reimagining' if the story as a whole presented the slightest whiff of originality. The Silurians have a good concept going for them, but not when we’ve seen it all before.

Of course it's unfair to vilify a given author, but then some people do bring these things on themselves. Chris Chibnall does have quite an abominable reputation, and though mostly derived from his Torchwood scripts (42 was... fine), it's not something he's done much to repudiate here. I do often despair of the 2005-current series' pathologically fast-paced format, but, on this evidence, why not utilise that pace to fill two episodes with much more event than possible in a one-off story... rather than simply slowing the action to a crawl, and thinly scraping the story over two weeks, like butter over too much toast. (Two-parters should have the same pace with more content, not just slowed down to fill the slot.) I'm absolutely not adverse to stories building over a longer period (hello The Invasion and The Daleks' Master Plan), but there's no advantage here, when the story, such as it is, comprises a boring scenario, boring characters, and boring script. All we get is unsatisfyingly laboured foreplay, with a fudged, um, climax.

The format applied to the series by Russell T Davies is going to cast a long shadow, so forgive me if I seem a little bitter - it's just that one of the few things that could be relied on over the post few seasons is that this slot would deliver one of the year’s strongest stories, from The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances to Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead. On the basis of The Hungry Earth, this story is already falling considerably short of that standard. It even manages to make this TARDIS crew seem flat, for the first time, and the device of using an ‘ordinary’ character to reinforce how amazing the Doctor is is getting very old.

Victory of the Daleks was just fluff; fair enough. The Vampires of Venice was, if nothing else, funny (and it was nothing else). The Hungry Earth was - what? Even its potential atmosphere - quite effective in a pre-titles sequence which almost made the Death of the Week not seem entirely perfunctory - was undermined by stupid, forced lapses of logic like the Doctor only realising he's facing Silurians/Eocenes/Homo reptilia/Earth Reptiles after seeing that they’re cold-blooded (no brainer, surely?), or forgetting about little Timmy, or whatever his name was.

I can't even be bothered to say anything cutting. I wish I could say this was a disappointment, but I didn't even have high expectations to begin with. It’s particularly galling that this season’s equivalent of The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky (a tedious and unoriginal two-parter needlessly reintroducing an ‘updated’ classic series monster) comes directly after its best story, Amy’s Choice.

Reaction: AMY'S CHOICE

Written by Simon Nye, directed by Catherine Morshead, 2010

Rather disparagingly, The Guardian have effectively dismissed Amy’s Choice as ‘the cheap episode’ of the season, and a “Simon Nye-penned curio”. Well, get a grip. This is what I’ve been waiting for from this series; admittedly, I didn’t expect it to come from the writer of Men Behaving Badly, but… who cares?

Off-beat, small-scale, and relatively experimental (given how much the series generally adheres to a formula): these are things I particularly prize in Doctor Who, which is often at its strongest when forced to push in new directions, rather than relying on CGI flying saucers and ever-escalating season finales. It’s hard to not see this as Inside the Spaceship redux (down to the perfunctory justification for the events of the story), and an equivalent to that story’s limited setting is the perfect format through which to explore this sort of less-is-more potential.

Amy’s Choice marks a return to an infrequent milieu for Doctor Who: fantasy worlds, or borderline-surreal domains; previously done in, what, The Celestial Toymaker, Mind Robber, Deadly Assassin, and the last couple of episodes of Trial of a Time Lord. Although I imagine this sort of thing – something conceived as ‘sideways’ digressions when the series was in the planning stages – is unlikely to become a regular fixture, it’s the polar opposite of the urban realism, and, more broadly, literality that underpinned the last few years’ output. Even the basic sci-fi staple of a metaphysical entity like the Dream Lord is something of a relief after five years of rhinos with ray guns.

Everything about this story is simple – obvious, even – yet nevertheless feels unprecedented. The TARDIS becoming a major setting; a ‘Bad Doctor’; even the idea of evil pensioners – simple concepts, but all the more effective for that. The character of the Dream Lord undoubtedly benefits from the corresponding lightness of touch brought to it by Toby Jones (Truman Capote in Infamous – the Antz to Capote’s A Bug’s Life). Jones not only manages to convey the maliciousness of the part (rather than out and out evil), but actually make an entirely believable Doctor figure.

Inevitably, there have been fans (presumably the ones convinced that every female character is going to turn out to be the Rani…?) trying to overstate the connection to the aforementioned Trial’s evil-future-Doctor, the Valeyard, as if the merest mention of the V-word would cause spontaneous orgasms across the country. Well, obviously there’s a connection: it’s the same idea. And if one is so inclined it’s easy enough to suggest that the Valeyard will come from the same dark corner of the Doctor’s subconscious as the Dream Lord, sometime in the future. Case closed. (The Dream Lord even flits about in the same way as the Valeyard does.)

The difference between the Valeyard and the Dream Lord is that the latter makes so much more sense; it’s a more convincing take on (when you think about it) an achingly obvious idea, because he’s still recognisably the Doctor, albeit one with a streak of malevolence. That he's playing malevolent little games actually makes him seem far more twisted. The Valeyard, on the other hand, might as well have no connection to the Doctor, being an unremarkably slimy black-clad villain. In this case, the revelation of the villain’s identity makes sense, without feeling pointlessly gimmicky or overplayed. (The reflection in the TARDIS console is a nice touch though, recalling the Second Doctor seeing the First’s face in a mirror after his regeneration.)

I also found it quite pleasing how much Toby Jones’ casting relates to a classic series idiom, rather than a Matt Smith equivalent (in the way John Simm was a Bad Tennant - in every sense...). He also has a touch of Being Human’s villain, Herrick, about him; a sort of innocuous, banal evil. Actually, Jones’ is an unflashy performance, but it’s quite masterful, and I think almost without doubt the most memorable villain since the series returned. (Son of Mine is effective, but that’s a series of quirks rather than a well-characterised performance.) It might lessen the character’s ambiguities, but I would be genuinely pleased to see the Dream Lord return, in some form (especially given his various guises).

As much a glaringly obvious concept as the Bad Doctor, marauding OAPs is triple-distilled Doctor Who, a perfect example of the oft-cited ‘twist on the familiar’, with the advantage of being absurd (think Father Ted), but simultaneously threatening. The icy TARDIS is a similarly low-key but memorable visual conceit, which is far more interesting than any number of fatuously overblown CGI orgies. From a purely visual perspective, it’s as gorgeous an image as Liz Ten sitting in her room of water-filled glasses. The playground outside the castle ruins is memorably (and appropriately) odd, too.

That this story also manages to include some arguably overdue character-based development of Amy Pond, deconstruct the Doctor, and still manage to be very funny are all reasons to be extremely cheerful. (“You know the Doctor – he’s Mr Cool”. Cut to the Doctor reeling down the street.) There’s never going to be a massive amount of space for substantially developed guest characters in a 45 minute format, so it’s not unwelcome for a story to dispense with them entirely. (And perhaps because of this, for once, it also felt like the series was capable of really using the 45 minute format, with the story feeling full but not rushed.) The main guest in The Vampires of Venice is a case in point of a character who becomes entirely two-dimensional at the expense of the regulars.

My problem with that story, that - though very funny - there wasn’t any substance to counterbalance the humour is nicely corrected here. While still laugh-out-loud funny in places, there was also a certain amount of dramatic weight and a far more original plot at work.

Deconstruction of the Doctor is always welcome (“Friends – is that the right word for the people you acquire?”), and I like the acknowledgment, as in Boom Town (another ‘cheap one’), that not only is the Doctor flawed but that he recognises this himself. Perhaps more importantly, it is good to finally have some substantial focus on Amy, as it does feel like the character’s been taken for granted, with a story based round her feeling overdue. I also can’t help seeing this story as yet another renunciation of the Davies years (something that’s become habitual in this series, and makes me wonder precisely what Moffat thought of Davies’ run); a whole story based around the companion choosing her boyfriend over the Doctor.

What else? Lazy bullet points:

• Jumping a time track – more points for referencing a story from a full FORTY-FIVE YEARS ago. Especially The Space Museum, of all possibilities…

• Rory hitting a old lady with a lump of wood and the Doctor knocking one off a porch with a bedside lamp… Ah, inappropriate violence – always guarantees a belly laugh.

• On the basis of Confidential, it’s quite charming that the three mains are apparently exactly the same as their characters in real life. Bless, etc.

• Behind the Sofa has an annoyingly insightful review/analysis, here. The observation that the story benefits from the dreamworlds being presented without recourse to flashy techniques is interesting, but it also makes me sort of wish we could’ve had some Gondry/Jonze-style visual invention.

Amy's Choice may not be an instant stone-cold classic, but it’s pretty close. Though I’m loving the sensibility of this series, its regulars, etc, this is one of the best episodes for me so far. The Eleventh Hour may be the best expression of Moffat’s vision, but I do wonder whether the shine’ll rub off when all the things it introduced have become ordinary.

In a way, I suppose this is as emotionally asinine as the show’s ever been… but that just goes to show how much difference a variation in tone and approach can make, because suddenly I give a shit about these sort of emotional moments. After only seven episodes I care more about these regulars than I did any of the previous five years’.

Reaction: THE VAMPIRES OF VENICE

Written by Toby Whithouse, directed by Jonny Campbell, 2010

Well, that kind of pissed me off. I like vampires. That is, their fictive potential - even though, a), I’m not a goth, and, b), I’m not really sure where that started, as I was never formatively into anything vampirey.

Given the current excess of all things vampiric in popular culture, then, I’ve been wishing Doctor Who would go there. It’s a no-brainer, surely? (Especially given the flatness of State of Decay.) In fact, I was all ready to relate this story to the icily beautiful Let the Right One In, Park Chan-wook’s sumptuous, morally-conflicted Thirst, or even the swampy Southern Gothic eroticism of HBO’s True Blood (though please note: not Twilight). Notice how I’ve cleverly managed to still do that, even though it’s now frankly irrelevant, as The Vampires of Venice itself actually invalidates the comparison.

‘The Vampires of Venice’ – except, that’s a big fat lie, isn’t it, because it’s actually The Space-Fish of Venice. What annoys me most about this ‘twist’ is that to all intents and purposes, this is a vampire story – but with an, ‘Oh, wait, fooled you!’ element tagged on. Given the massive convolutions the script has to go through to make the space-fish able to masquerade as vampires, that begs the question – why not just make them vampires? (Especially since there’s a perfectly good ‘ancient enemies of the Time Lords’ backstory already established.) Or have them as space-fish from the beginning, and scrap the pretence.

It’s like having a race of pepperpot-shaped robotic creatures who say ‘Exterminate’ a lot, and then saying they’re not Daleks. (Though, thinking about it, in relation to the new Mighty Morphin Daleks, one can only hope.) I mean, does the production team really think Men in Black-style, poorly CG’d fish-aliens are going to prove more memorable than vampires? There’s a reason such a simple concept has endured.

Before I spontaneously combust with exasperation, good things: the story undoubtedly benefits from locations that never could’ve been filmed in the UK. The period setting is pleasingly atypical for Doctor Who, too. And any appearance by William Hartnell, even on a library card, is welcome. It is also genuinely very funny (“Lovely girl. Diabetic”; “According to this, I am your eunuch”; the Doctor’s Mary Poppins moment, pulling the massive light from inside his jacket)... but then, overall, its flippancy just adds to the lack of substance.

Far too much here feels very tired, too (yeah, I’m already out of good stuff): Rory’s Mickey shtick (although it is surprising how likeable and familiar he is in only his second appearance - but though I much prefer him to Mickey, he is unavoidably playing that same role). Ditto the monsters-on-the-run-from-a-plot-device (the Gelth, the Pyrovile). Ditto the sympathetic-character’s-arbitrary-but-convenient-self-sacrifice. Ditto the climactic-climbing-up-a-tower-to-stop-the-dastardly-and-slightly-overcomplicated-scheme (The Idiot’s Lantern, Evolution of the Daleks).

I absolutely love Being Human, a program that is far better than it has any right to be, which, though not without its faults, balances genuine humour with pathos, as well as surprisingly uninhibited violence. Another of its strengths is in its eschewing of big, hokey setpieces like what we get here. Oh, Toby Whithouse, you disappoint me. Though, frankly, thinking back to School Reunion, maybe my faith was misplaced.

Dear Toby – some queries:
• Surely the contrivance with the teeth doesn’t work because they would be physically there all the time - so why would people only perceive them at certain moments?
• In The End of Time, the Doctor could apparently see through, or at least recognise the Vinvocci’s disguises… Why not here?
• Sunlight reflected from a hand-mirror blows up Gilbert-from-Being Human… Why, when all the ‘vampires’ have been wandering around in daylight with ineffectual parsols for the whole episode?
• Why have Rosanna’s clothes suddenly become real at the end?
• And most glaringly, why the hell did the space-fish even need to flood Venice? Hmm? Could they not just have lived… in the sea?!

Normally nothing ticks me off more than fans griping about little details – suspension of disbelief and all that – but then, some writers (ie, Steven Moffat) seem to be able to deflect attention from such niggles, so they genuinely don’t seem important. This script doesn’t do that.

So, while I’ve got the story on the floor, let’s give it a final kick. Flicking a switch to stop the storm. Right. There’s a fine line between ironically undercutting audience expectations and just… copping out. And what happened to the tidal wave, ehhh?? Horrible bit of stock footage of the clouds parting too. I thought those days were past.

You might have realised by now that I’m slightly sore about the vampire cheat, and, in fact, for me this story has been the biggest disappointment of the series so far. Victory of the Daleks was crap, but then, it’s a Dalek story, for god’s sake! But what’s particularly galling about this story is that it’s perfectly entertaining… yet amounts to a forgettable waste of a location shoot. It’s just fluff.

Still – a chink of light through the shoddily CG’d clouds: Amy’s Choice looks… promising.

Reaction: FLESH AND STONE

Written by Steven Moffat, directed by Adam Smith, 2010

As Steven Moffat has made the analogy of this story being the Aliens to Blink’s Alien (the overrated and dumbed-down action version, then?), presumably Weeping Angel³ (underrated, but beautiful and uncompromising) and Weeping Angel: Resurrection (of which, frankly, the less said about the better*) will soon be on their way… Not to mention the superb and not superfluous at all Weeping Angel vs Smiler spin-off.

Enough facetiousness (…maybe). Much as I am loving almost everything about this series – Matt, Karen, the fairytale sensibility, and the feel of a synthesis of the old and new series – on balance, this wasn’t one of Steven Moffat's strongest stories. At least not compared to his pre-showrunner numbers. It fitted together, but, though I appreciated its relatively small focus, as a four- and, after Octavian's death, three-hander, there didn’t seem to be a massive amount of substance to this episode. Similarly, nothing particularly unexpected happened, and in fact, on a second viewing which usually consolidates my impressions, I found Flesh and Stone strangely unengaging. Nevertheless, depending on how much this series adheres to the template of the past few seasons, it's still relatively early days and there's presumably space for deeper, richer stories in its second half.

The most notable element of the episode was having the arc-seeding crack play a substantial role in the series well before the finale; I was worried it would simply end up glimpsed in every episode… However, that would have been below Moffat, and I’m glad to see he’s shaken the Bad Wolf/Saxon precedent. Both as an arc and in terms of its potential repercussions on the continuity of the last few years, it is becoming very intriguing. Also, it's quite fantastic to see the sort of questions asked by fans actually addressed by the Doctor within the show, for example, regarding the CyberKing. The willingness of the program to not only address but make something out of continuity gripes like this – and with such a fast turnaround - is part of the joy of modern Doctor Who.

River, of course, is also a continuity issue in progress. If River perhaps eventually kills the Doctor, it’s a rare author who deals which such monumental elements of the Doctor’s life (however obliquely – so far), much like the skirting around his name in The Girl in the Fireplace and Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead. (This suggestion also calls to mind what Lawrence Miles did with the Doctor’s corpse in (the brilliant) Alien Bodies.)

I am a little dubious about a character who’s predicated around ‘being mysterious' - hopefully just not indefinitely. Like the revelation of the Star Whale not quite matching up to the apparent magnitude of Starship UK’s secret, there’s always a worry that the truth about River will be underwhelming if it’s dragged out too long. (Having said that, that’s a measure of how fast things move in The Broadband-Speed Age, seeing as this is only her second appearance.)

Given everything River apparently knows (the Doctor’s name, again, and how to fly the TARDIS or write in Old High Gallifreyan), I just hope the series can muster the scale to realistically portray their relationship – whatever that relationship turns out to be. This was my worry with Silence in the Library; that future stories wouldn’t do justice to how expansive their relationship seems when told as backstory. The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone has certainly raised more unexpected questions, so I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.

Also in terms of unanswered questions, presumably the people who also mentioned this are simply reading too much into a continuity error (of the production variety), but when the Doctor returns to Amy to tell her, “Remember what I told you when you were seven,” he appears to have both rolled up his sleeves in one shot, and regained his jacket in another. I doubt this is deliberate, as there just isn’t enough emphasis, but… will he return to this scene in a later story? Hmm.

As for Amy, I was starting to find it hard not to see her as a return to the old days, in that she hadn’t really contextualised her adventures in relation to her real life... I’m not convinced whether this is good enough any more, so I’m glad she expressed a desire to go home, even if only briefly; it’s good to see her acknowledge the life she’s been prevaricating about.

While we’re on the subject of the return to chez Pond… I’m sure loads of people (Daily Mail readers?) will loathe Amy’s play for the Doctor, but I loved it; once again, the Moffat administration undercuts the Davies approach. Where Rose was in love with the Doctor, the earnest emo yearning is here replaced by Amy simply wanting to jump his bones.

Though her having a wide-on for the Doctor is very funny, it does seem to come out of nowhere. I like that she’s a bit wanton though (on the night before her wedding, no less!); it makes her more human than Rose or Martha’s mooning around. Also, if Amy is perhaps a return to a pre-2005 companion template, the Eleventh Doctor’s reaction to her advances feels like a return to the Doctor of old who was completely befuddled by sex (a far cry from the Tenth's glee in having apparently devirginised Elizabeth I...). Although, let’s face it, One to Seven never even made it to first base, unless Polly got the horn in a lost episode or something. (Look, if previously unheard-of test footage of the first regeneration has just been found, anything’s possible.)

When not fighting off sexually rapacious companions, I’m slightly surprised the Doctor didn’t encounter the Angels face to face more, given that this is the first time we've really seen them together. Although, I guess there's only so much interaction you can have with something that doesn't move when you're looking at it. Speaking of which, it was fantastic seeing the Angels move when Amy’s eyes were shut; though obviously not stop-motion, there was something pleasingly Harryhausen-like about the sinuous movements of 'stone' figures. (Also very reminiscent of certain moments in Mike Nichols’ Angels in America.)

I do wonder though if the Weeping Angels are too complicated, relatively speaking, to ensure their longevity? Compared to the Daleks (fascistic robot creatures) or Cybermen (mechanised humans), stone statues that are defined by the rules governing them (you have to stare at them… but not for too long) aren’t perhaps straight-forward enough to support numerous rematches. Look at Victory of the Daleks though; maybe that’s for the best.

Like The Beast Below’s glorious production design, the ludicrous idea of a forest aboard a space ship is quite inspired, and, as with The Eleventh Hour, it's wonderful to see more non-urban environments. It also forms a good hunting ground for the Angels, but, it must be said, in terms of the much-overstated ‘scare factor,’ the Angels are creepy, and they’re used effectively to create tension… but this is no scarier than Doctor Who’s ever been. Though a combination of humour and scares is bread and butter to Doctor Who, perhaps this is due to a jokiness which persists from the previous four series – especially in regard to the Doctor – which all too often means the former negates the latter.

I’m slightly uncertain as to how to feel about this story, but I think that’s mainly down to the frustration of not being able to put it into the context of an entire season yet. As Matt Smith’s first two-parter though, it’s a welcome addition to the student-Doctor’s freshman year, where – for once - the resolution to the cliffhanger is actually better than the cliffhanger itself. Crap titles, though.

*I can forgive Jean-Pierre Jeunet pretty much anything, but still - what?!

Reaction: THE TIME OF ANGELS

Written by Steven Moffat, directed by Adam Smith, 2010

Although not up there with Steven Moffat’s best stories, the bravura pre-titles sequence alone puts Victory of the Daleks' stringent traditionalism in the shade. A country park, spaceship, and River Song contacting the Doctor across 12,000 years and blowing herself out of an airlock… That’s a brilliant couple of minutes of Doctor Who. (Though it would have been fun to see Churchill hurtling through space into the Doctor's arms...)

I didn’t really have any expectations of this story, with its returning elements making me forget to wonder what it'd actually be about. In a way, I was slightly apprehensive about the return of the Weeping Angels, as they’re such an integral part of Blink I wasn’t sure they’d work outside of that context. However, it's nice to see them not only in an entirely different situation, but being expanded upon and not used in exactly the same ways.

As for River - well, you've got to love a woman with a gun small enough to fit in her handbag. Her hallucinogenic lipstick and female Indianna Jones shtick is fab, too. Also, her Marilyn hair and glam outfit suggest a Romana-like potential for varied costumes, which is welcome, given how little eccentricity the series' recurring characters have displayed since 2005. The idea of her carrying photos of all the Doctors' faces is a pleasingly mundane way to deal with their timey-wimey relationship, and means I can't help imagine her turning up, Iris Wildthyme-like, throughout the classic Doctors' lives. Although, with those prior to the sexually-awakened Eighth, she'd probably be slightly disappointed.

The archness of River’s teasing about her future role in the Doctor’s life becomes almost too contrived here to be truly intriguing. She also seems rather smugger than in Silence of the Library/Forest of the Dead - but then there's still next week's episode, where perhaps she'll display more of that story's sensitive side. Her lasciviousness is still fun though, if slightly overplayed.

In a way, the setting for this story is a little underwhelming, though at least the caves have been filmed on location - if all the Doctor Who stories set in caves had actually been filmed in caves, I can't help but feel its reputation for shoddiness would be much diminished. The maze of the dead reminds me quite strongly of the labyrinth in Barbarella (which also features an angel… I’m on to you, Moffat), with its living inhabitants becoming calcified into the walls. For all the inevitable chatter about how scary this episode is, in Vadim's film it's a lot more uncanny and freakish. However, where the story excels is with little twists like the Iraq war-style soldiers in fact being clerics (“Bishop! Lock and load”), or the TARDIS not being supposed to make its 'wheezing, groaning noise' (the sort of thing the vast majority of authors'd take for granted). These details do enliven the story somewhat, and are one of the joys of Moffat’s scripts.

A lot of people have commented on the recurrence in this series of tropes from Moffat's previous stories (the ward of 'possessed' patients, etc), and here we're again treated to typical tricks like repeated phrases ("Come and see this"), trickery with radios/voices from beyond the grave, and even mundane names being used to humanise a future setting. I’m not really sure whether those elements are reassuring or verging on becoming tired. The Angels using Sacred Bob's apologetic voice and speech patterns though (another of Doctor Who’s pretty, doomed soldiers), is extremely effective, while also undermining any expectations of what they might sound like should they talk.

Amy and the Doctor continue to be great here, but I still feel like they're being taken for granted. Much as I liked them both immediately, as I’ve said in previous reviews, I’m still not convinced they've really had the chance to come into their own. Amy, particularly, is acting like an old hand, when we haven’t really seen much evidence of her coming to grips with her new lifestyle. Having said that, it’s good to see a more pained side to Smith’s performance, in his reaction to River’s demanding presence (in fairness, you’d be pretty sore about being bossed around by a wife (?!) you hadn’t really met yet). On balance though, the teasing, sibling-like relationship between the two leads is shaping up nicely.

Strangely, I also find myself missing the anchoring effect that returning to the Powell Estate or phoning Martha or Donna’s mothers had between 2005-09; at the time, I always felt that inability for the series to entirely detach itself from the companions’ home lives damaged the magic of being whisked off in time and space, but I feel - albeit over only four episodes - this season would benefit from the context a 'home' situation would provide. (Having said that, I realise we must be returning to Leadworth at some point, though not until after Vampires in Venice.)

Overall, I'm not quite sure what to make of this episode. I liked it…it’s good – but I will reserve judgement till the second part has aired. Maybe it’s the pressure of being a twofold ‘event’ story, with greater expectations to live up to, but it doesn’t seem to have quite the complexity of Moffat’s past two parters (or even the - albeit overrated - Blink), and the cliffhanger is a little weak. Surely it was also really obvious that all the statues were Angels, even from the pre-series teasers?

No doubt lots of people'll praise it as a return to the 'scary' Moffat of The Empty Child and Silence in the Library, but, although that's by no means unwelcome, I enjoyed the opening up of his writing to encompass lighter openers. I’m even almost looking forward to his take on the season finale - a definite first.

Mike Skinner though…? Also, on a music-related note, I just saw in an interview with Matt Smith that aside from the xx and Grizzly Bear he also likes gay Canadian videogame-nerd violinist/singer Owen Pallett, aka Final Fantasy. That’s it, favourite Doctor ever…

Reaction: VICTORY OF THE DALEKS

Written by Mark Gatiss, directed by Andrew Gunn, 2010

A slightly different version of this article can be read here, on Kasterborous.

Let’s not beat around the bush. Yes, Victory of the Daleks features an entirely successful redesign of the Daleks. Unfortunately, it’s the British Army versions, which are as striking as the iconoclastic gold-and-white of Revelation and Remembrance. Who ever thought green Daleks would work?! The Union Flag is a neat little touch too.

As for the new new Daleks, I must admit my heart fell at not only the idea of redesigned Daleks, but also the initial pictures, when I stumbled across them on the Radio Times’ site. (Who had clearly decided to continue their sterling tradition of spoilerising up-coming stories.)

These gay pride Daleks will undoubtedly have some fans squeeing in their Tom Baker Y-fronts - but equally, Marmite-like, they’re not going to appeal to everyone. The colours particularly may well prove contentious. However, it goes without saying an overhaul of such a classic design is a brave move (certainly compared to previous cosmetic changes), and shows Steven Moffat’s willingness to put his own stamp on every aspect of the series.

Where the previous twenty-first century incarnation was injected with a bulk and realism, making them credible bits of hardware, there’s certainly something very sixties about these versions, perhaps a nod to their TV Comic antecedents. At least the production team isn’t trying to make them look cool, which is death to Doctor Who.

Moffat has talked about the magic of the show being its ability to appeal to our inner eight-year-old, and these Daleks seem unabashedly targeted at that mentality. It’s appropriate, then, that their clearest antecedent within the program is not one of the TV series’ designs proper, but rather the Aaru movie version hijacked for a role as the Supreme in Planet of the Daleks…

The wisdom of having the balls – or hubris? – to tamper with something as iconic as the Daleks is quite staggering, but we’ll wait and see whether it comes off. There’s a sort of bulbous purity of form which, interestingly – and not unpleasingly - sweeps away all the detail added to the bare bones of the design in 2005.

Actually, despite my initial distaste, it took me about, ooh, half an hour to kind of fall in love with this new design (...if not the colours). I’m a bit of a sucker for variants on the familiar; I like them exactly because they genuinely have a totally new look, and there’s something to be said for how scandalous that should seem. (The organic eyes are a nice touch, too.)

Used - as under Russell T Davies - to illustrate the show’s potential and variety, Victory of the Daleks’ unassuming slot makes for a surprisingly early excursion for the Daleks in this run. As the creation of the dodgem-Daleks is its entire raison d’être, amounting to an expository set-up for further encounters, it’s perhaps unsurprising that this feels like a slightly hollow Victory – and perhaps it’s for the best that this was got out of the way early. It may be too slight to be an entirely satisfying story in its own right – and manages to feel rather rushed, despite not a great deal actually happening - but let’s reserve judgement for when these Daleks really come into their own.

The traditionalism of Mark Gatiss’ script also feels a little inadequate after Moffat got stuck into the format in the last two stories; by comparison this is very insubstantial – do robots and averted countdowns cut it any more? Having said that, it is the riffs on Power of the Daleks, recasting the creatures as something insidious, with only the Doctor knowing the truth, which are arguably the most effective elements of this story. It’s a shame this, and their unlikely dialogue (“WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOME TEEEA?”) couldn’t have been taken further.

Trying to cram an epic resurrection and Star Wars dogfights into the runtime is perhaps less effective. Although, spitfires in space – along with holding the Daleks at bay with a jammy dodger (“Don’t mess with me, sweetheart”) are memorably daft Doctor Who concepts… Although I can’t shake a cynical feeling that they are a bit too manufactured.

Where The Eleventh Hour felt like every element had been lovingly oiled and put together meticulously, Victory’s combination of trad and new series styles is more uneasy. Also, notably, as the first non-Moffat-penned Eleventh Doctor adventure, it lacks the much-vaunted ‘fairytale’ feel of the two series openers. However, it isn’t unsuccessful as a rollicking wartime adventure.

Where those previous two stories were hung around Amy getting to grips with the Doctor, this could almost be slotted anywhere in the run. Consequentially – and slightly disappointingly – Ms Pond feels far less uniquely ‘Wendy Darling’ here. And, once again, despite her instrumental part in saving the day, Amy feels marginalised; we need a story which has space to breathe (perhaps a return to Leadworth?), where she – and we – can take stock of her still-new situation.

The Blitz is a surprisingly specific period to return to relatively soon after The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, especially given how effectively it was used there. Nevertheless, it completes the set of contemporary, future, and past settings, and it is welcome to effectively get to see behind the scenes of the earlier story’s milieu. Some less tokenistic characters besides Churchill and Bracewell would have been welcome, but that just goes to show that the series can still struggle with the 45 minute format.

Obviously, the Doctor’s ticket into the war rooms is the concept of his having had previous adventures with Churchill – to the extent that the PM is blasé about the Doctor’s change of face. This is not only a brilliant twist on the Doctor’s inveterate namedropping (the Doctor and Baroness Thatcher versus the Vervoids in series six, anyone…?), but, only three stories in, also continues a trait for characters already knowing the Doctor. (Liz Ten and the inhabitants of Leadworth knew him by reputation, while perhaps the ultimate example of this, River Song, returns next week.)

As Gatiss rightly pointed out on Confidential, Churchill is a controversial, ambiguous figure, but, while I'm slightly uncomfortable with his being turned into a jolly caricature, it’s appropriate that these issues aren’t raised here, and that we are instead presented with a canny distillation of ‘the Churchill of legend’. Miraculous too that the series was allowed to show him smoking. (How many years has it been since someone last lit up in Doctor Who?! Resurrection? Answers on a postcard.)

(Picky point, but, I found it quite distracting that Ian McNeice is the wrong sort of fat for Churchill. Which, I suppose, is the disadvantage of celebrity historicals for whom the characters’ real appearances are a matter of record, but I’ll let it go.)

Anyway, I don’t think it’d be fair to damn this as series fnarg’s first stinker; it’s a step down – or maybe back – but as we’re returning to Moffatland next week, I’m not going to despair just yet. Also, I feel inclined to let this story off because I like Mark Gatiss’ three-piece suits.

One thing I did find interesting, in addition to the newfound prevalence of the Doctor’s reputation preceding him, is that the Moffat administration have reacted to the ubiquity of large-scale alien activity over the last few years by seemingly resetting this knowledge to zero. As with the new Daleks’ destruction of their predecessors, the willingness to take a sledgehammer to the past five years if necessary is startlingly apparent. If only a qualified success in other areas, in this at least, Victory is victorious.