Roll up, roll up!

Bit shameless of me, this, but I'm having a clear out and have stuck a load of Doctor Who stuff onto Amazon Marketplace - you can check out what's for sale HERE. It's mainly VHSes, if there's anyone (else) still using them, a load of Virgin novels (including a rather smart copy of Gareth Robert's perennially-popular The Well-Mannered War), and other assorted oddments. Knock yourself out.

Also, given that I've just announced a temporary hiatus on this site, I wanted to take the opportunity to post this Phil Bevan image (which I cribbed from the 1995 annual) - having previously lamented how little of his work is online. Like most of his work, I think this is rather fab.

Anyway - one day, I shall return... Yes, one day...

Kuh, real life, eh? Always getting in the bloody way. 

Unfortunately real life is very much getting in the way at the moment, in various ways - as you might have been able to discern from the recent lack of updates. I can't really say when this lamentable state of affairs will be rectified, but I certainly intend to continue posting... at some point. Not least to have my say when Matt Smith's second season rolls round (you can check out my reviews of his first series here).

So... hiatus, then? A horribly loaded word to us ming-mongs, but there you are. Here, let me assuage you with a lovely (if somewhat irrelevant) Dave Gibbons panel.

Back soon. Bye-ee!

June Hudson

Ooh, the first post of space-year 2011. Thrills!

A while back I wrote an article on the Doctors’ costumes (here), on the basis that it's something that never receives any more than passing comment. 

As I said there (albeit in a rather more longwinded fashion), the way the Doctor(s) dress is an important signifier of his status as a hero somewhat removed from the norms of that archetype (in an action-adventure context). I'd love to be able to say this function has never been overstated... but it quite obviously has. Perhaps surprisingly though, it's the Fifth's outfit which I find most heinous. 

The Fifth Doctor's costume never looks like real clothing, either in design or realisation (it's both flimsy and contrived), and is rather too concerned with being recognisable and 'iconic' in an overly forced way. Interesting then that this, June Hudson’s original design, is entirely without garish piping and the elongated jacket which suggests an irritatingly box-ticking approach to ‘Doctorishness’ in this incarnation. 

Simpler, brighter, and, at this point, relatively unprecedented (in stepping away from the frock coat silhouette), I’d... not kill, but at least maim to have seen Hudson’s unsullied design realised on screen. An effectively youthful, Brideshead-inflected look - rather than the beige and pyjama-striped monstrosity Davison ended up saddled with. Just sayin’.

Anyway, check out June Hudson's website. There's also some alternate Sixth and Eighth designs which she did for some university course, here. None of them are that unprecedented, but it's interesting nonetheless.

"Marilyn! Get your coat"

Reaction: A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Written by Steven Moffat, directed by Toby Haynes, 2010

So, yeah, yeah, it’s the ‘best’ Christmas special to date… But that isn’t saying very much.

Steven Moffat in crap story shock? Unfortunately, I think so. Of his output to date, people have seemed particularly unconvinced by The Beast Below, but I feel hard-pressed to write off a story dealing so confidently with (to use fan-parlance) such ‘oddball’ concepts. This, alternatively, doesn’t amount to much more than seasonal fluff, despite evidently trying to eschew Russell T Davies’ festive blockbuster template.

This year is the first time I haven’t been apprehensive about the Christmas special, because I thought we were in safe hands and assumed that, given Moffat’s take on the (for me, ordinarily equally painful) season finale, A Christmas Carol would be an atypically successful take on an element of the revived series that I've never enjoyed. Despite the line I opened with, The Christmas Invasion is to me still the only tolerable Christmas special, mainly because its seasonal setting is used as a trapping to the plot and is broadly irrelevant, whereas this story is entirely predicated around its own Christmasiness.

Given that the idea of a Christmas special being somehow necessary or appropriate to Doctor Who is fairly repellent to me, I’m probably not best disposed to enjoy this offering, even if it’s by a writer whose work I much prefer to his predecessor. I take issue with the idea of a Christmas special because it’s so staggeringly lazy, the thinking that jamming two things together that’re big with kids will somehow yield magical results.

Take this from Kasterborous’ ‘10 Reasons to Love Christmas Who!’ (all of which I pretty much disagree with): “The Christmas Season and Doctor Who are possibly the two greatest things to ever come together.” That sort of wildly spurious opinion typifies everything loathsome about the ‘special’ approach. There’s a case to be made for the merits of, say, chocolate and dildos, but that doesn’t mean a chocolate dildo is a good idea.

The only Christmas special I can recall ever actually being satisfied by was the League of Gentlemen’s effort, exactly because it played against its festiveness by being more grotesque than usual. So maybe I’m just too much of a miseryguts to appreciate the snow-drenched festivities Moffat and co delivered… but, yet, I was – and remain – willing to be proved wrong. It just hasn’t happened yet.

However, I would contend that A Christmas Carol’s problems run deeper than its festive spirit; for one thing, its standalone status gives the episode a disproportionate sense of significance which makes its failure all the more apparent. What we get is a weird and slightly damp mishmash of elements that somehow doesn’t spark in the way The Beast Below’s England-in-space did (for me). Sci-fi Victoriana… sharks… saccharine sob story… Star Trek parody. (The latter of which is particularly weak; I couldn’t care less about that particular franchise, but even I know taking off its shiny bridge set is breathtakingly old.) None of these things ever quite gel.

Then there’s the abrupt opening, which (excuse me) doesn’t quite fly; Amy and Rory’s marginalisation; the kind-of-crap flying fish; and the lack of antagonist (as Sardick ceases to fulfil this role pretty quickly, or consistently). All this fails to do justice to the neat Doctor-changes-a-life concept, previously explored in Steven Moffat’s Decalog 3 short story, and even the time-roaming Christmas Eve excursions with young Kazran and Abigail. These ideas should have been able to carry a whole episode, but overall the story feels both cluttered and yet still very slight, with only a couple of main sets, and, much as I hate to say it, lacking the grounding in realism of a period or contemporary setting - which might makes us care (the fifties Hollywood party seemed to have much more potential in only a very minor scene). In theory, I’m very much a believer in small-scale but clever, less-is-more scripts, which, on paper, this should be, but… sorry, no.

I certainly don’t think of Moffat as being infallible (even The Time of Angels/Flesh and Stone wasn’t up to his very best), but this feels rather too much below par – jumbled and clever-clever (rather than complex and actually clever), with a slightly undeserved saccharine cloyingness (rather than actual emotion). The Doctor stepping from Sardick’s rooms in the present into the recording of his past, and the twist on the Ghost of Christmas Future routine, were both rather glorious moments – yet, what did the grandparents, assorted inebriated relatives, or the very young – ie, the majority of the audience – make of this?

In fairness, casting Michael Gambon, Britain’s favourite monstrous curmudgeon, an actor quite literally IN EVERYTHING, from The Singing Detective to The Life Aquatic, via The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, is quite the coup, and certainly counts for something, as he delivers much as you might expect. It doesn’t help however that Katherine Jenkins, though perfectly tolerable – and better than Kylie (albeit a back-handed compliment) – is saddled with such a non-role, as the insufferably sweet and doe-eyed terminal-case Love Interest.

It upsets me slightly to be so harsh, but almost nothing impressed me about this story. It looks quite good, but what were with all those wipes?! Dispiriting, as (the quite lovely) Toby Haynes brought so much brio to The Pandorica Opens/The Big Bang. Speaking of which, with that two-parter, Moffat made a format I hate – the finale – work, by both engaging with its customary more-is-more mentality, but also undercutting it. So what went wrong with this soggy cracker of an episode?

Specifically, I don’t like the deification of the Doctor – less in terms of his manipulation of someone’s life to such a (controversial?) extent, or numerous right-on-time appearances, but because of his untouchable, non-realistic portrayal as someone everyone defers to and who is never ignored or dismissed. His ‘importance’ and significance as a character has been inflated so much he is literally akin to fairytale figures like Father Christmas, or a troubleshooting Jesus.

Also, hate to say it, but… things just felt a bit too, um, ridiculous. Or, at least, this story’s ridiculousness felt quite flimsy. Like, the fish thing felt like a perfunctory stab at a trademark ‘big, mad, bonkers’ Doctor Who concept. The very idea of a ‘trademark’ style is fishy (ha, ha) enough as it is, but maybe in this case it’s that it isn’t a mad enough concept. A flying shark; that would have been cringeworthy in even something as wildly apocryphal as a John and Gillian TV Comic strip.

Ehh, I dunno. It wasn’t hateful, just a bit smug and forgettable. Worst Smith story? Victory of the Daleks is, obviously, rubbish and The Hungry Earth/Cold Blood is bad, but they were just straight-down-the-line pulp filler; this was a big event episode written by a showrunner whose work and storybook outlook on the show I like – but which never felt special. Multi-script burnout, perhaps? Even Smith, though reliable as ever, wasn't stretched by the material and felt too familiar – like the reappearance of a fez, which is going to get old extremely quickly. I can only hope this is an inter-season lull.

It’s not a direct comparison, but I couldn’t help thinking of Jeunet and Caro’s dark steampunk fairytale, City of Lost Children. It’s not directly comparable, despite sharing some of the same look in its city setting, and even its nautical-themed imagery, though without quite such a straightforwardly Victoriana-with-goggles bent. There are only a couple of nods to a Christmas setting in the film, but it cruises the mysterious, foggy side of Christmas rather more successfully than this outing does, with its uncertain collision of near-monochrome cinematography and soggy love story. There’s also rather more solidity in Jeunet/Caro’s worldbuilding - which takes me back to The Beast Below and its Starship UK. Though the concepts of anglo-Blade Runner and Dickensian dystopia are as broad as each other, Starship UK is more fictively satisfying – if not, obviously, actually feasible – because, by contrast, I can’t imagine 'Sardicktown' functioning outside of A Christmas Carol’s festive setting. It’s so obviously created for a festive story that it doesn’t ring true, in even a fairytale sense.

It’s a dispiriting return to the 2005-2010 years to feel this disparaging, but it’s not all doom and gloom. The child’s-eye-view on the series continues to work, with the Doctor once again paired with a pre-pubescent pseudo-companion in the young Kazran - but there is a danger that this’ll become another in a line of Moffat stock elements that could easily become tiresome (see also the manipulation of voices, which threatens to become stale after The Empty Child, Silence in the Library, and The Time of Angels). Another recurring trick is the leap from grandstanding Davies-like blockbuster-style opening, even down to a reprise of Voyage of the Damned’s (irritating) “Christmas is cancelled” line, before segueing into Moffat’s vision – in the same way his first script at the helm slipped deftly from TARDIS-dangling rollercoaster into the more atmospheric setting of Amy’s Leadbridge garden.

Amy being sidelined once again (so soon after The Lodger and whichever episode of The Silurian Fiasco during which she was imprisoned) may be cause for celebration for her detractors, but seems a slightly dangerous precedent; perhaps her characterisation has been criticised as lacking because she’s not being considered central enough by the show’s writers? It wouldn’t hurt to go back to the mentality of the assertion in 2005 that Rose/Billie Piper was just as much the star of the series as the Doctor/Christopher Eccleston. It’s ironic that as he gets his name in the credits for the first time, Rory is similarly marginalised. I suppose this can be explained by the festive special’s standalone status, but it’s slightly worrying in that I don’t think Amy and Rory’s relationship (to the Doctor, at least) would be that self-explanatory to any members of the audience who hadn’t been paying fan-like attention to the last series.

It’s a shame to feel so critical of a writer whose work I ordinarily enjoy, but I like to try to respond to things intuitively, at least initially, and this just didn’t grab me. In theory, the idea of a twisty, relatively small-scale character-driven timey-wimey excursion should be wildly preferable to Davies’ festive blockbusters, but in practise it feels clumsy and swamped, with none of its even most effective concepts given enough weight to balance out the weaker parts.

It’s a bit grim, but the ‘coming soon’ trailer was the best thing about this hour of viewing, and felt far more exciting than what I’d just sat through, suggesting a freshness I hope the production team can live up to (the impossible-to-fake iconography of Monument Valley looks particularly startling). 

"And incidentally, a happy Christmas to all of you at home!"

Firstly, I refuse to apologise for using the above go-to festive quote with such fearful inevitability. So there.

Secondly, and slightly more saliently, SWD? will continue to review, pick apart, and otherwise waffle on about stories from all eras of the series in the New Year. So, stand by for friendly Daleks, Russell T Davies’ take on the Seventh Doctor, unpronounceable Tibetans, and – of course! – Matt Smith in a Santa hat! (And the rest of his clothes as well. Probably.)

Also, stay tuned for a couple of slightly different new things, too… Oooh!

Oh, alright then - and, merry Christmas!

Next Time: A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Peter McKinstry

As a long-term concept designer on the new series, there are understandably loads of interesting images on Peter McKinstry’s website. His graphics-based illustration has become quite familiar, so it's particularly interesting seeing such a recognisable style applied to a pre-existing design. I love the Tenth Planet-style Cybermen – sort of creepy, medical zombies – and McKinstry has really tapped into this with his grotesque, almost Hellraiser-like take on the design. 

Much as I appreciate the ostensible art deco/Metropolis influence on the new series Cybermen that actually appeared in series two, in practice they’re a bit too clunky and robotic. Unused designs are always going to be fascinating, so it's unsurprising that I can't help wishing what had made it onto the screen could have been more like this. It's cool that McKinstry drew on influences from so far back, but I suppose it was always unlikely that the new series' Cybermen were ever going to depart so radically from more typical Invasion/Earthshock versions. 

Whatever. I also like the ‘Blind Fury’ book cover or poster - or whatever it is - that’s included with his series five designs. I dunno what it’s all about, but I like it. "Sleep no more, sons of Gallifrey," indeed.

"There's never anything good at the end of a countdown – except New Years, and even that's rubbish”

Review: THE SARAH JANE ADVENTURES, SERIES FOUR
CBBC spin-off series, 2010

This time round, there was a danger that The Sarah Jane Adventures were going to feel like an obsolete pre-Moffat relic, with its Siltheen and Graskes. Even a notable lack of any crossover monsters from series five (I can imagine the Silurians turning up) sits a little oddly, and would perhaps have reinforced the show’s ancestry given how much the parent series has moved on.

Of course, the appearance of the Eleventh Doctor, this season’s selling point, goes some way to addressing this, but opener The Nightmare Man - a very self conscious attempt at a scary story – seems a patent attempt to move the series on and try new things, perhaps to limit reliance on Doctor Who itself. In fact, this is almost the most characteristic thing about this season; aside from a couple of by-numbers lapses, most of the stories have tried to showcase a more varied and mature take on the show.

Growing has obviously been a major topic, too, with The Nightmare Man particularly compounding a more teenage feel with its Skins-rated-U surprise party for Luke. It also shows a lot of confidence in opening the season with a first episode in which Sarah has very little direct involvement – although, in fact, she ended up seeming marginalised in a lot of the stories, especially Lost in Time and the final episode. Perhaps it’s a case of reality mirroring fiction and the actress’s age is actually catching up with her…? Despite this, as ever, it’s quite staggering to remember quite how marvellous Lis Sladen is; in all her little very human and idiosyncratic reactions, she seems far better than CBBC deserves and is of course the pièce de résistance of the show.

Ultimately, The Nightmare Man isn’t entirely satisfying, trying almost too hard to be teenage and scary, which seemed at odds with the series’ underlying positivity and niceness. Julian Bleach channelling Joel Grey’s Emcee from Cabaret or The League of Gentlemen’s Papa Lazarou, but not being as scary as either, though probably quite creepy for the actual demographic (just not the ming-mong quotient), is slightly disappointing. On balance, this is probably the least successful of his Torchwood/Doctor Who/SJA triumvirate of villains.

However, it’s good to see a certain amount of dreamlike surrealism in one of the new series family, something twenty-first century Doctor Who itself has mainly eschewed, perhaps for fear of alienating its carefully built mainstream audience (with even the dreamscape(s) of Amy’s Choice being played straight). The world of the Nightmare Man does demonstrate the potential danger of ‘anything goes’ dream-logic, as it becomes a bit ‘Well why should we care?’, which, I suppose, is always the danger. Sarah’s relative lack of involvement isn’t entirely successful, either, as it falls to Tommy Knight to carry the story - but it’s okay, cos by the end Luke’s gone! (They’ll have to update that cringy catch-up sequence that plays at the beginning of every episode. Or is that just on iPlayer?! The bleeping they’d added to K9 was hacking me off too, so he’s not a great loss either.)

(As an aside, without Luke around, does it not look a bit weird to the inhabitants of Bannerman Road for Sarah to be jetting around with two schoolkids? Maybe the finale of the next season will see her lynched by a mob of concerned members of the community?)

The Vault of Secrets is one of the weaker offerings of the season, with the otherwise irrelevant Pyramids of Mars reference being probably the most interesting thing in it. (It’s also slightly saddening that in a split second of footage the visual of Mars’ surface is miraculous, by comparison to what the show could pull off back in 1975.) The links to the Dreamland animation, in the Men in Black, are less welcome, being the kind of astonishingly obvious pop-cultural ‘pastiches’ (and that’s being generous) which are destined to be repeated, ad infinitum, for decades to come. And all without being anywhere near as creepy as Hugo Weaving.

Death of the Doctor forms the meat of this review, perhaps unfairly – but there’s relatively little to say about SJA's regular stories, which are almost so routine as to be beyond reproach; they do exactly what they say on the tin, and there isn’t a great deal to analyse. In consequence, it is welcome to have a writer like Russell T Davies, who’s not exactly hampered by restraint, coming along and providing an event episode to shake up the format – in a way that previous stabs at season finales, such as the somewhat fumbled reintroduction of the Brigadier, didn’t. An injection of big thinking (in contrast to the standard ‘the gang foils an alien incursion in suburbia’) goes a long way: not only in having the Doctor appear, but doing so in a story dealing with his apparent death and its repercussions, along with the reappearance of another long-gone former companion.

A writer immodest enough to take the format and give it a good shake is a rare thing in SJA, so although self-conscious ‘big stories’ aren’t really my bag, this one is almost a relief. (Big, that is, in terms of its emotional ramifications – turning out the sun, for example, may seem big, but doesn’t mean anything compared to meeting up with a familiar character from thirty years ago.)

I imagine a lot of people’ll focus on the sheer amount of elements crammed into Death of the Doctor, whereas most stories have only one or two main building blocks – say, The Vault of Secrets’ returnees Androvax versus the Men in Black. Here, not only do we have UNIT (and their Gerry Anderson-like base in Mount Snowden), but the Doctor and his apparent death, new monsters (the Shansheeth), old monsters (the Graske/Groske), an alien planet, Jo Grant’s return, and a Luke-alike in Jo’s grandson. While this would seem to suggest that Russell is up to his old Stolen Earth/End of Time ‘more is… MORE!!!’ tricks, these elements actually gel and feel far more organic than that comparison would suggest. In fact, it really shouldn’t work, yet I enjoyed this story far more than my generally low opinion of Davies’ writing would suggest. In fact, I kind of loved this story, apart from anything else for its atypically measured pace, which, in the first episode, gives Sarah and Jo a surprising – but welcome – amount of time to both reminisce and become acquainted.

It’s a relief that such a continuity-heavy concept is fictively justified by a plot which revolves around memory. Similarly, Jo’s appearance feels entirely appropriate to the idea of the Doctor’s funeral, rather than something arbitrarily slotted in, thus dismissing the idea that maybe her’s and the Doctor’s appearances in this series would be better used in separate stories.

For a continuity fest, it’s impressive how fleet-footed it mainly manages to be – even without the Shansheeth drawing out Sarah and Jo’s memories for their own nefarious purposes, it is natural that the two ex-companions would share these things. Likewise, a rare nod to Liz Shaw seems natural in the circumstances – and, oddly, links into her presence on a moonbase in late New Adventure Eternity Weeps. Strangely enough, I doubt that makes her horrific, sulphuric acid-spewing death canon though.

I’m no fan of Jo, though I do have a certain grudging fondness for her; I coincidentally watched the (yes, dire) Time Monster for the first time before seeing this, and the contrast between her twentieth and twenty-first century appearances brings home how much emotionally-driven characterisation the new series has given to the companion role. On the basis of stories like The Time Monster it’s hard to credit Jo with any original thought at all, so though her wild post-Doctor life is laid on a bit thick here, it’s almost revelatory to hear her actually talking about the Doctor in retrospect, when we were never allowed any access to her thoughts about her life with him back in the seventies. (She does look a bit… desiccated, though.)

Perhaps because the character is effectively brought up to date, or brought in line with her modern counterparts, I felt a lot more pleased to see her than I expected. For all that I’m cynical about his generally overinflated reputation as a writer, Davies has certainly got a handle on Jo in presenting her – though exaggeratedly – as a batty, be-ringed free spirit. She’s well on her way to becoming one of Doctor Who’s fabulously mad old dears, á la Amelias Rumsford and Ducat. I like how Rani immediately thinks she’s “fantastic,” and Santiago is unembarrassed by her – I mean, she would be an awesome mad relative, who all the normal grown-ups’d shake their heads about. (Though quite why she brought her grandson to the funeral is anyone’s guess. Santiago is slightly hatefully right-on, though that might be mainly down to the excessively low-cut T-shirt, but at least the cons of his globetrotting life are brought up in the second part.)

That Jo’s aspirational post-Green Death lifestyle, which is sketched in rather than being left to the imagination, is implicitly due to the seize-the-day mentality that rubbed off from the Doctor, is one of those Russell tropes which irritate me slightly, but which overall didn’t stop me enjoying his return to the Doctor Who universe. (See also the sledgehammer emotiveness of concepts like ‘the Doctor died saving hundreds of children’; portentous dialogue (“You smell of time; he is coming”); pseudo-mystical alien-dialogue (“brothers of the wing”); a penchant for spuriously ‘exotic’ names (Santiago Jones); tortuous coincidences bent to shape the story (the sonic being in the TARDIS and Sarah’s lipstick having been ‘drained’); and the Doctor as the stuff of intergalactic legend; etc, etc.)

However, these things are tempered by the more sympathetic attitude to continuity that has become the norm since 2005, with it being more about events’ emotional consequences than an excuse to roll out old monsters. It still heartens me to hear characters react to the most outlandish elements of Doctor Who in broadly real ways; ie, Sarah Jane wondering what face the dead Doctor has – in a way no-one did in the old series.

That the explicit references to previous stories include less-obvious ones like Jo and Sarah’s Peladon jaunts or The Masque of Mandragora is quite lovely, because it’s less the events in question that are important than the characters' tactile memories of those experiences (ie, Sarah remembers the orange grove the TARDIS landed in in the latter story, rather than Heironymous and the Helix energy). Davies effectively couches continuity in terms of memory rather than relating it in dry, ‘factual’ terms. That he also gets in a reference to the unseen Third Doctor excursion mentioned in Timelash takes continuity references to a new level of tortuousness – again, though, it is justifiable as a simply tactile memory for Jo, and so doesn’t feel painfully fanwanky.

Incidentally, as a fan who’s used to numerous returns and reappearances in various media, it’s easy to be all too blasé about characters returning to the world of the show thirty-odd years down the line; but it is insane, and we should be so grateful that Doctor Who brings out the kind of good feeling that makes people want to return to characters decades later. This must be pretty unprecedented, mustn’t it?!

In a way, perhaps because such a Doctor-centric idea is at its centre, and because of its less furiously paced speed than is normal in SJA, this feels more ‘Doctor Who’ than the spin-off show, even if it isn’t necessarily ‘like’ an actual episode of Doctor Who. David Tennant’s appearance in The Wedding of Sarah Jane Smith did feel like an excursion for the Doctor into spin-off territory, even though in both appearances the Doctor doesn’t turn up until the end of the first part (which, given the ratings-winning kudos of bagging these leading actors, is nicely judged not to overshadow SJA’s regular cast). In some ways, it does feel odd throwing away such a fertile concept as the Doctor’s death/funeral (think Alien Bodies) in a ‘mere’ CBBC spin-off, but it comes off well, and gives a bit of scale and gravitas to a series often more disposable than this.

As for Sarah, with a fourth Doctor under her belt (as it were), Sarah has effectively become a latterday Brigadier-figure; that is, a friend rather than companion per se, who repeatedly encounters different Doctors. I’d love for her to still be popping up when she’s the age Nicholas Courtney is now. Speaking of which, I’m not sure how much longer that ‘the Brigadier’s stuck in Peru’ excuse will hold up – I mean, there are airports in South America.

It comes as something of a surprise for me to say it, but overall this story is outrageously lovely, and probably one of my favourite of Davies’ stories - which isn’t saying that much, but it's nice that his return doesn’t make me want him to piss off even more permanently. It’s in scenes like the Doctor’s talk with Jo where Davies shines, and which I actually found quite moving, especially because of how nicely the reason for her departure in The Green Death links with Amy and Rory’s recent marriage. That Jo tried to get in touch with the Doctor at UNIT is specifically strangely affecting, especially since, as he was based on earth at the time, there’s no reason she’d expect the definitive end to her association which we, as viewers, know to expect.

As for the past-companion namechecking, though shamelessly fannish, hearing mention of Ian and Barbara and Ben and Polly (and even Ace*) on BBC1 in 2010 made me giddy as a schoolgirl. The fact that all those mentioned are doing something inspirational is an example of Davies’ quite literal thinking, which grates on me slightly, but as it isn’t exactly an exhaustive summary I can live with it; personally, I prefer the broader idea that they aren’t all necessarily on top of the world, but obviously that wouldn’t be as appropriate to SJA’s optimistic outlook (on more general principles, it is undeniably limiting to demand that Doctor Who can never be sad). I don’t quite believe in, say, Tegan as a right-on campaigner for Aboriginal rights, but former companions wouldn’t seem human if it wasn’t implied that their travels with the Doctor had affected them, and injecting humanity into them is Davies’ forte.

While bizarre, the idea that a still-young Ian and Babs are mooching around Oxford is also inexpressibly lovely. It could be seen as presumptuous of Davies to furnish these characters with post-Doctor lives, but I guess that’s the price of having someone take a more hands-on approach to the series’ past. Also, it does tie the series together in a charming way to realise even sixties companions who seem like ancient history are still alive and kicking, if only in the Doctor Who universe.

On the other hand, that the Doctor’s rounds in the coda to The End of Time actually took in EACH AND EVERY companion is absurd, and another example of Davies’ utter lack of restraint. The idea of the Tenth Doctor tracking down, say, Dodo, Turlough, Steven, Mel or Grace is ludicrous, but makes me laugh at its audacity rather than heaving a weary sigh. That wilful ludicrousness is quite representative of Davies’ output, but I’m glad it has seen an expression, in this somewhat unassuming form, in a story I really enjoyed. (This even more extended ‘reward’ does smacks of fanboy completism – did the Doctor do it alphabetically or chronologically?!) I’d also throw my vote in with the idea that referencing back to past characters isn’t alienating for newer audiences (if done right), but rather provides a glimpse of history and backstory - which, frankly, Doctor Who has enough of to spare.

More prosaically, I don’t like Matt Smith’s new shirt/jacket; it looks like he’s cosplaying… as himself… badly. (But at least this variation in his costume was due to technical considerations, the usual Paul Smith shirt vibrating with the SJA cameras.) The Shansheeth are possibly the worst new series/spin-off monsters, both in realisation and design, and certainly the most tawdry of Davies’ animal-aliens; they look like refugees from a particularly cash-strapped production of Alice in Wonderland. But let’s just peg that as a cash issue and move swiftly on.

For my money, Death of the Doctor has a hell of a lot more interesting concept - and, let’s face it: is just better - than any of the 2009 specials; maybe Davies really did just need time to recharge. Similarly, perhaps stories without the pressure of building up to regeneration/end of an era, suit him better. Having said that, he does manage to make this return to the fold act as a coda to The End of Time (cos the twenty-minute one actually in that story obviously wasn‘t enough...), in its discussion of regeneration, and an epitaph for the Tenth Doctor. Some people might see this as further self-indulgence from Davies, but I kind of like the emphasis put on the Doctor's ‘death’ and renewal, because it’s natural the characters should discuss it. It's the opposite thinking of earlier versions of Doctor Who, where the production teams bizarrely never felt the need to put these thoughts into the mouths of earlier companions - an extreme example being TARDIS newcomer Tegan’s total non-reaction to the Fourth Doctor’s regeneration, in Logopolis/Castrovalva.

Overall, Death of the Doctor may be an exercise in linking the old series to its Davies and Moffat eras, but the story is a lot less clunky than that implies. The fact that the actual plot boils down to a scheme to get hold of the TARDIS, and the Shansheeth’s plan being somewhat more ambiguous than straight-down-the-line villainy, is welcome. A corrupt UNIT officer is quite a nice inversion of the generally faceless UNIT of the new series, too, and shows a tendency to tackle sacred cows which also sees expression in the story’s (albeit affectionate) mockery of Sarah’s “staggering” piousness and the show’s home-in-time-for-tea ethos.

The main thing this story made me wonder, with fearfully predictable geekiness, was which other old-school characters I’d like to see return? I guess Leela is the obvious one - being popular and memorable, but unusual - though it might be harder to flesh her out as a believable human being. Or, apparent Captain Jack-like immortality aside, Ian Chesterton - ironically, as William Russell’s age could give some real scale to the Doctor’s recurring association with human companions.  
 
Well.

Following Russell's return was always going to be hard to equal, but in taking a completely opposed, sparer approach, The Empty Planet pretty much does. I’m going to skip over that though, as you can read a fuller review I wrote for this episode, on Kasterborous.

Lost in Time, perhaps most explicitly of this run, continues to push the series into new areas: I like its multi-location format, even if it doesn’t go into demented Chase-like territory, and it’s a relief that the Bannerman Road Gang aren’t explicitly ‘fighting aliens’ for once, persevering with a looser approach to the format. There’s a surprising, and welcome, degree of pathos to Jane Grey; in fact, all the strands are surprisingly satisfying considering their brevity, and how easily this could have turned into a bitty, disjointed mess (ahem, The Chase again). I particularly enjoyed the pip-pip derring-do of the budget Eagle Has Landed – especially the gun-wielding schoolmarm-cum-spy! – although this probably only serves to highlight the (relative) limitations of Daniel Anthony, giving him an action-based rather than emotionally probing mini-story. Though there are moments – for example, when the Nazi commandant calls him a ‘negro’ – where the script does veer into more emotional-driven territory.

There is a certain Moffat-ness to this episode (Matt Smith aside, one of few concessions to the spin-off’s relationship with its newly-rejuvenated parent series), in Jane’s shades of Madame de Pompadour, and the climactically timey-wimey (sorry!) delivery of the key. It’s also rather lovely that a kids’ program is prepared to give an emotional kick – even if it could be accused of being a little ‘schematic’ – of a type that Doctor Who itself seldom delivered prior to its revival.

And so to Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith: SJA doesn’t have a very good track-record with finales, and - regrettably - this one doesn’t fail in delivering an underwhelming story, continuing a characteristic and slightly annoying insistence on ‘high-concept’ finales (tag-teaming returning villains; a Sarah-equivalent figure). I think SJA falls down in this department because the big, showboating approach it tries to crib from the parent series just doesn’t suit its own style, which is at its most effective when tackling a more intimate tone and scale. 


Having said that, Goodbye… does try for the kind of sensitivity which the series often succeeds at surprisingly well, but falls a bit flat with Sarah’s fears about ageing. Plus, the manipulation of her life feels like a retread of The Wedding of…, and isn’t quite compelling enough to justify the lack of any major threat for the majority of the first episode. Also, the non-appearance of the Trickster (who I’m starting to warm to, if only because his nemesis-status makes him feel ‘significant’) is countered by a ‘Ruby’s evil!’ reveal that’s a bit meh (a disembodied stomach?!), while also invalidating even more the rather weak cowl-wearing budget alien threat from earlier. Plus, Ruby’s true nature also nullifies her role as a Sarah-analogue, the heavy-handedness of which is a bit much; ‘Mr White’, the Alfa Romeo, the secret cellar.

I mean, Hickman and Roberts – shouldn’t that have been fun?! Instead it was desultory and charmless. (An evil exile? Jesus.)

Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith has none of the ambition of stories like Lost in Time to broaden the series’ tenets. Maybe that’s appropriate to a finale, but as I have serious issues with the way all Doctor Who-family series tend to end with some slightly desperate ‘big’ story, it feels disappointing in comparison to the best mid-season stories of this run. Lost in Time would have made a more memorable and ambitious finale, without ticking the ‘this is a finale!’ boxes, which are so very tedious.

Anyway, I’ve said waaay more than is strictly necessary in regard to a CBBC programme, especially since I’m only really interested in it as an adjunct to Doctor Who (though it still has its own charms) - so I will end on this note: has Luke been doing crystal meth at uni, or what? He looks like he’s dying!


*Ace’s fate as a philanthropist billionaire doesn’t necessarily negate the character’s Space Bitch and 'Time’s Vigilante' phases in the New Adventures, or her time-travelling motorbike and eventual life in seventeenth century France (…or whatever).