The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe

Written by Matt Hills

Doctor Who - The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe
Written by Steven Moffat
Directed by Farren Blackburn
Broadcast on BBC One - 25 December 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

Steven Moffat's second Christmas Special returns to his first love as a Doctor Who writer: the theme of motherhood. Rather than that eerie question “are you my mummy?” instead we get young Cyril Arwell's stubborn assertion that “mummy always comes” to the rescue. And in a spot of gender amending, the Doctor further sums up events in two words: “Mother Christmas!”. But before we get to the maternal love-in – with the “basecode of nature” used as justification for assorted meanings of plucky, fierce mother's love – this episode has plenty of (forested) ground to cover. For one thing, its title is misleading three times over: the wardrobe isn't actually a wardrobe, the widow isn't ultimately a widow, and the Doctor isn't quite himself either – he's the caretaker, hiding from his own legend, and keeping away from old friends.

This big festive episode also seems rather like the Who equivalent of a Christmas tree groaning under the weight of years' worth of different decorations – lots of shiny things are there on display, some of which you don't like, and some of which don't match. But if you look carefully, you'll always find something to delight. An impact suit that repairs its occupant; naturally-occurring Christmas trees; dancing chairs; a wintry forest wrapped in a TARDIS-blue gift box; wooden monsters who aren't really monsters. Androzani Major. Bill Bailey in a spaced-out hazard suit. Come on, admit it, that golden crown of fandom is starting to tingle and glow with life force. This is traditional rather than transitional Christmas Who fare, despite the fact that Piers Wenger hands over here to new queen bee exec-producer Caroline Skinner.

My favourite shiny bauble is the fact that at about 44 minutes in, and after a quiet moment where the geodesic sphere spaceship lifts off, we suddenly cut to what appears to be a 'clean' version of the end credits' time vortex (at least, we do in the “rough cut” that I'm reviewing, so fingers crossed that this makes it into the Christmas Day broadcast). Rather than the production team's names whizzing by in the smallest font in the universe, though, we pull back to see the Doctor watching through a triangular window. It's not the end credits at all, crashing in at the wrong moment, it's the time vortex that Madge is selflessly piloting them through. But just for the merest split second you can't help but imagine you're seeing the eleventh Doctor gazing out at the end of a Doctor Who episode. It's a great visual, as Arabella Weir's Billis might say.

Sadly, there is at least one major missed opportunity. It's a shame that after series six has focused on an under-developed and under-explored mother-daughter relationship, the values of being a mum can seemingly only be explored while Amy Pond is off the stage. Of course, all are well in the Arwell clan by episode's end, but I'd argue that Madge (wonderfully played by Claire Skinner) nevertheless gets more character development, and more plot beats surrounding her motherhood, than poor Amy Pond received in an arc's worth of material. It's as if Moffat can only really focus on developing wholly believable characters, and properly writing the mum thing, when he's not preoccupied with series arc plot-twists, or with which episode goes where in the run. Having said that, even the Doctor's emotional journey in this episode occasionally doesn't quite ring true: at certain moments he's clueless with feelings, but at other times he can effortlessly find just the right thing to say to Madge (“they are going to be sad later”). Part-time emotional intelligence guru, and part-time bumbler, perhaps this is a portrayal aiming for the “wise fool”, or the genius-child who can't understand his own feelings, but even so it still sometimes feels jarringly uneven.

If motherhood is a key presence here then so too, oddly enough, is water. This is a very wet Christmas Special. Following on from River and the Ponds, this time out we get “frightful” acid rain, a lemonade tap, a water pistol used as a carol-singing deterrent, and “humany wumany” happy crying in the Doctor's Christmas homecoming. Across the hour we move from a bombastic Star Wars-meets-James Bond pre-credits sequence (surely designed to make the audience sit up and pay attention) to a domestic Doctor-greets-the-Ponds ending. The latter could hardly be any less special effects' intensive, and you definitely have to pay careful attention to get it, as finally a glistening smear of “happy crying” appears below Matt Smith's left eye. People can't resist a door, and neither can the Time Lord as he crosses the threshold into Amy and Rory's home. For the eleventh Doctor, an ordinary front door can be just as much of a dimensional portal as his present to the Arwells – this time, it's a door which transports him into a new world of emotional wonder, and a newfound humanity.

The gimmicky wimmicky of “sciency wiency” workbenches or “humany wumany” crying might be wearing just a tiny bit thin by this point, I suspect, but no doubt it'll see us through to the forthcoming anniversary-wersary. Hold on to your hats, then, because the eleventh Doctor is growing up before our very eyes. He's very much linked to the children Lily and Cyril via his repeated “I know!” early on in this story, and he fails to be a proper (adult) caretaker, unlike Madge who he thanks for “taking care” of him. He even gets told off for not giving Amy and Rory a status update on his vital signs, with Matt Smith playing the “yes, Mum” scene to chastened perfection. But by the time the end-credits fly past, this Doctor is a little bit more of a time-travelling adult, and just a fraction closer to being a Time Lord grown-up. And the possibility of a return visit to Madge Arwell's life has also been deftly sketched in.

This Christmas Special isn't really about Narnia, or portals, or wooden aliens. All these things are, after all, just the decorations on the tree. Underneath the glitter of Farren Blackburn's direction (solid on The Fades and solid here), and underneath the glitz of Stephan Pehrsson's ongoing great work as DoP, this episode's roots and branches are infused with the magic of maternal care. Even the Doctor is “weak” in comparison, it would seem. Yet the TV “mothership” – Doctor Who itself – continues to be strong, even towards the end of a year where its spin-offs Torchwood and The Sarah Jane Adventures were either put on hold or came to an end, and where Doctor Who Confidential was abruptly consigned to television history. So many unhappy realities getting in the way of the fiction. Nobody should be alone at Christmas, but this year BBC Wales' Doctor Who is notably more alone in the schedules without all of its spin-off family, and if I were to shed a metaphorical tear for that fact then it'd be sad crying, not happy crying, which would glisten damply at the end of Who's 2011.

Doctor Who: Series 6 Soundtrack

Written by Stephen Willis

Doctor Who: Series 6 Soundtrack
Written by Murray Gold
Silva Screen
UK release: 19 December 2011

One of the results of 2011’s split-season of Doctor Who was that there were double the number of “event” episodes – that is, season-openers and season finales. Murray Gold draws attention to this in his liner notes: “There were four musically challenging stories (first and last episodes always need a certain amount of extra impact).” I for one am very glad that Murray rose to this challenge wholeheartedly, because it has led to an outstanding album packed with a broad range of moods and genres (yet still following a single story arc), and one that will be a favourite of mine for a long time.

Disc One kicks off in funky nonchalance with some familiar chords performed by Murray himself on electric guitar. A casual but charged percussive riff joins in, before the whole orchestra explodes into a thrillingly revamped version of the Eleventh Doctor’s theme – “I Am The Doctor In Utah”. With track two, “1969”, we find ourselves in tense, mysterious “high noon” territory. The solo trumpet and the cloudy guitar dissolve into a magical, pained vocal as the Doctor begins to regenerate.

Another standout track is “Help Is On Its Way”. The musical tone of these first two episodes is very consistent, and here the guitar returns with a swinging riff, while violas and violins drive forward with that familiar semiquaver figure that dates back to Series Three and “All The Strange Strange Creatures”. Somehow swanky, somehow sleazy, the brass instruments slide and swing their way in, as we are introduced to Canton (the younger). The rest of the track is a subdued but forceful string and synth underscore, building to several peaks.

One of my very favourites, “I See You Silence” is the music from when River is cornered at the top of the skyscraper. The repetitive, taunting guitar motif at the start of the track perfectly echoes Canton’s sing-song call of “Doctor Song!” The track is a fuller mix than the version used in the episode, and features a funky, guitar-augmented version of the forthcoming “Majestic Tale”.

The Curse of the Black Spot’s offering is excellent; an ominous start, some swashbuckling action and an enchantingly sweet but deadly vocal performance as the Siren by Halia Meguid. Add to that some vigorous fiddling by Eos Chater, and you’ve got yourself the perfect score to a pirate romp.

The Doctor’s Wife also has a good selection of tracks, which work perfectly in the episode, which is perhaps surprising given the recording circumstances explained in Murray’s notes. I love the magical, lilting waltz of “My TARDIS”, but I was slightly disappointed that it was cut short, without venturing into the guttural cello and drum-machine vamp from Amy and Rory’s chase through the TARDIS corridors. I can’t complain though – there is enough terrific material packed into this album to more than make up for it!

That said, there is a lot of material from The Rebel Flesh and The Almost People – perhaps too much. The tracks from these episodes are all quite similar-sounding, and not especially memorable. That’s on first listen though – given time, I have a suspicion I will grow to love these tracks just as much as the others. The last track from this story, “Loving Isn’t Knowing”, is a suite containing some really great music: the vulnerable love theme with tearful violin; the gorgeously simplistic yet soaringly lyrical return to “Amy’s Theme”; the shocking and heart-wrenching music from the realisation that Amy is a Ganger; and the terrifying Madam Kovarian music as the real Amy wakes up on Demons’ Run.

The music from the mid-series finale, A Good Man Goes To War, is wonderful. It’s hard to believe that this is not the full orchestra and just a “good sized band”. “River’s Waltz” is gentle and sentimental, played on a detuned piano, here with more instruments accompanying it. At the end of this episode, when River reveals her identity to the Doctor, we aren’t told or shown immediately what the revelation is. However, from Murray’s music, we know it’s not a bad thing. As realisation dawns on the Doctor, gentle piano and cello melodies blossom into a beautiful, flowing tune, deepening in grandeur with horns until, as the Doctor inexplicably disappears in the TARDIS, out comes a majestic and moving reprise of the “I Am The Doctor” motif. The final track on this disc, “Melody Pond”, begins with a vocal version of River’s theme as heard in The Impossible Astronaut. The second half of the track is the theme that has accompanied River throughout the series; an emotional vocal with a repeating string pattern, ending with a soaring development and orchestral flourish.

Disc Two begins with tracks from Let’s Kill Hitler. “Growing Up Fast” is brilliantly nostalgic and frivolous, painting the perfect picture of the childhood of Amy, Rory and Mels. With its bouncing acoustic guitars, jumpy percussion and nursery-rhyme melody, it almost sounds as if it could be a theme tune from children’s TV.

“The Blush Of Love” is rich and gorgeous. It sounds like a film score – the attention to detail is remarkable (I suspect credit is due here largely to Ben Foster’s orchestration). I particularly like the way the melody passes between the oboe, flute and violin.

“Terror of the Reich” begins with a bombastic Nazi march. The second half of the track is excellent – a little bit Bond. The bopping drum machine and quirky woodwind perfectly capture the twee-ness of a robot operated by lots of miniature people!

Mark Gatiss’ Night Terrors was the first time we heard the “Tick Tock” theme, presented mainly instrumentally in this episode. There’s something very scary about simple child-like music, particularly as it gradually, barely-perceptibly, gets faster throughout the track, as if it’s liable to go out of control.

The sound-world of The Girl Who Waited was one of slightly out-of-tune electronic sounds, as exemplified in the first track, “Apalapucia”. This was perfect for the strange, clinical setting and the slipping of time-streams. “Amy’s Theme” returns in “36 Years”, in a reflective acoustic guitar version. I can’t hear this track without remembering the glum-looking Rory skipping along to it!

If you thought the sounds of The Girl Who Waited were weird, they’re nothing compared to The God Complex. Murray says in his notes that they decided to go for an electronic score to “emphasise the crooked angles and giddy mixture of merriment and terror portrayed in the episode”. This definitely worked. The result is disorienting, very scary, slightly ironic and just fantastic. That said, I don’t think the Doctor Who Fan Orchestra will be attempting it any time soon!

Gareth Roberts’ Closing Time was a superb follow-up to 2010’s The Lodger. Motifs from the earlier episode returned, such as “You Must Like It Here”, which shows up in “Stormageddon, Dark Lord Of All”, and “Thank You Craig”, which is echoed in “Fragrance”. The sound of Closing Time is much more filmic, and somehow weightier; it really feels as if we are revisiting the world of The Lodger but with a fresh approach, and, of course, the shadow of the Doctor’s oncoming death looming over.

The final episode of the season, The Wedding of River Song, opened with a bang. A montage showing “all of time” happening at once was accompanied by an epic rock track, “5:02 PM”, featuring a loud choir, electric guitars and saxes. In “Forgiven”, the theme from “Melody Pond” (also foreshadowed in Series Five’s “A River Of Tears”) comes to a breathtaking resolution, breaking into a reprise with similar orchestration to “The Sad Man With A Box”. “Time Is Moving” is a funky, jazzy riff on the Eleventh Doctor’s theme, with locomotive-style percussion (appropriate to its usage in the “train-office” scene near the beginning of the episode). The episode’s namesake track is a final reflection on River’s theme, building to darkly emotional horns and gentle flutes and glockenspiel. After a rock interlude, we hear a brief nod to Amy’s child theme, on a beautiful solo flute (in fact lifted from “Amy’s Starless Life”).

And yes – the very last track was put in at the special request of the many Twitter users who asked for it. Murray is quite right – it’s a fitting end to the album, and encapsulates all we love about the Eleventh Doctor and his adventures.

The overall tone of this album is much subtler than any of the previous Doctor Who soundtrack releases. It covers a wide spectrum, but it definitely feels consistent. The music of Doctor Who has been becoming more and more filmic since 2005, and this album is the absolute pinnacle on that front. I look forward hugely to hearing what Murray Gold comes up with for the next series!

Stephen Willis is the creator of The Doctor Who Fan Orchestra. You can read his review of the Series 5 soundtrack here.

Competition: Win Doctor Who Series 6 Soundtrack (16 Dec 2011)

Doctor Who: The Encyclopedia (New Edition)

Doctor Who: The Encyclopedia (New Edition)
Written by Gary Russell
BBC Books
UK release: 13 October 2011

This big beast of a BBC book calls for a bigger than usual review. However, my A-Z responses don't have to be read in alphabetical order, so feel free to dip in and out as you like. Having said that, entries given here for 'R', 'T', and 'D' are especially worth a browse...

Author: Gary Russell should be applauded for the near-Herculean task of compiling this new, updated edition. Detailing the stories of River Song, Amy Pond and Rory Williams brings home just how complex and incident-packed their lives have become. But Russell nevertheless presents an earnest, coherent account of the Moffatverse, avoiding entries on “reboot” or “universe” for example – thorny topics which might have needed to engage with what, exactly, has unhappened and rehappened in the wake of series five. Steering clear of continuity tangles and controversies allows The Encyclopedia to represent itself as definitive, though in a sense no such thing is ever really possible with Doctor Who. There will always be matters of fan debate and/or production inconsistency, but under Gary Russell's official stewardship you won't find all these "unofficial" debates fully engaged with.

Biggles: Amy Pond's favourite cat, referred to in The Girl Who Waited, gets an entry. But “sexy Mr. Jennings the hot, hot art teacher” is absent. This dialogue is present in The Brilliant Book 2012's “magic moment” from episode 6.10, but must have been cut from the televised version. Despite being published on the same day, then, The Brilliant Book and The Encyclopedia appear to have worked from different sources: the former drawing on shooting scripts for its dialogue extracts, and the latter drawing on Doctor Who as readied for broadcast.

Cover design: The only place we're going to see the ninth, tenth and eleventh Doctors meet is probably in this composited image, echoing an infamous publicity photo for The Three Doctors. This edition of The Encyclopedia thus imagines or visualises an event which lies outside its own remit, given that it only refers to televised Doctor Who from 2005 onwards. In short, and although it's truly glorious, the cover cannot be covered here, along with all sorts of other new Who comic strips and novels. Couldn't entries for the likes of Aberdeen, or Alan [1] and Alan [2] have been cut to make way for some major information from the non-TV worlds of the three (BBC Wales') Doctors? For instance, "Terraphiles" would surely make a more interesting entry than "Terry".

Doctor, the: The entry for this character is shorter than those given for Amy Pond, Rory Williams and River Song. On this evidence, one might conclude that the Doctor is merely a secondary character in 'his' TV show, while the real narrative focus of recent series falls on Amy, Rory and River. Also, why are only three actors listed as playing the Doctor? Shouldn't flashbacks in The Next Doctor and The Eleventh Hour mean that this list ought to be a lot longer?

Eric and Ernie: Occasionally, entries following one after the other resonate in unexpected and playful ways. Whether by accident or by design, Eric and Ernie put one in mind of the recent, award-winning BBC Wales' TV drama depicting Morecambe and Wise, and overseen by Beth Willis and Piers Wenger.

Fact or Fiction?: The Encyclopedia insists that the Doctor compares himself to a fictional character, Arthur Dent, in The Christmas Invasion, using this interpretation to include an entry on Douglas Adams. This ignores the possibility, embraced in many fan reactions, that Arthur Dent is actually a real, non-fictional person in the Whoniverse rather than a character created by Adams. It seems odd that Gary Russell would cut down this ambiguity and playfulness, arguably present in Russell T. Davies's script.

Guard: There are five Guards listed, ranging from Guard [1] in Utopia through to Guard [5] in The Gunpowder Plot (and lots of spoilerific details are included for this Adventure Game, by the way). Curiously, more vicars than guards have featured in Doctor Who's cast lists (see my entry for 'Vicar' below), suggesting that ceremonies of everyday life on Earth – weddings and funerals – have been more central to this version of Who than fantastical, SF stories of imprisonment.

HP Sauce: Gets a mildly spurious entry on the basis that an HP advert is remarked upon in The Idiot's Lantern. Given the BBC's long-standing reticence in relation to real-world brands, this feels almost like product placement. The entry for Henrik's also works in the real-world Cardiff store Howells (where Henrik's was filmed), blurring factual/fictional commerce. Other table sauces and other department stores are available.

Internet: Reviewing the sumptuous paper-and-print version of this book brings home the difficulties of such a venture. Fans receiving it as a Christmas gift will most likely find it's out of date within 24 hours of unwrapping (since it doesn't and couldn't cover the Christmas Special 2011). By contrast, online resources and fan wikis can be updated immediately after TV broadcast, and a wealth of information is out there for free on the web. When I was a child, I treasured my copy of the Programme Guide A-Z (however unhelpful it may have been in some ways), but in a world of digital media and fan sites, I can't imagine The Encyclopedia being treasured in quite the same way by young devotees of the Doctor. I wonder whether we'll ever see a third edition in bookshops, or whether this publishing project will be wholly digital by the time of Who's fiftieth anniversary.

Jones: There are ten Joneses (characters and real people) listed: Jones the computer, Catherine Zeta, Clive, Danny, Francine, Harriet, Ianto, Leo, Tish, and Martha. Likewise there are ten different Smiths: Delia, Jackson, John, Luke, Mickey, Pauline, Ricky, Sarah Jane, Sidney and Verity, making it a Smith and Jones dead heat. For now.

Kovarian, Madame: In an unusually hesitant entry, Russell concedes that it's unclear whether Kovarian is one of the Clerics or just working with them, and that it's equally unclear whether she is dead or alive in the restored, fixed-point-at-Lake-Silencio reality. To my mind, Kovarian seemed rather under-developed as a series-long baddie, and The Encyclopedia's vagueness on the subject does little to counter that view.

Livingston, Ken: Apparently the Mayor of London in Doctor Who (p.200). The incorrect spelling of -ston rather than -stone may represent Gary Russell's revenge on all those journalists who have ever written about Christopher Ecclestone. Either that, or it's a typo that hasn't been corrected for this revised edition (see my entry for 'T'). Personally, I prefer the Ecclestone Vengeance Hypothesis.

Man in Pub: Played by Neil Clench in Turn Left. The Encyclopedia's almost manic insistence on including every credited actor ever to have ever appeared in Doctor Who ever does occasionally lead to rather dull entries. Man in Pub is marginally more interesting than Man [1] and Man [2], but all these entries suggest that there's a difference between facts and knowledge. Facts are bits of decontextualised trivia, but knowledge puts those facts to work within a frame of understanding and within a context of use. Doctor Who: The Encyclopedia fetishises facts rather than forms of knowledge: discuss. With a man in the pub.

New: An exceptionally popular prefix in new Who (if not the most popular). There are some twenty-three entries beginning with “New”, including placc names such as New York and New Zealand. Whether it's New Gallifrey, New Humans, New Skaro or New Earth, novelty has clearly been at an insistent premium since 2005.

Old: Far less popular and less frequently used than its opposite, there are a mere three entries including this prefix. Youth, novelty, and reinvention would seem to be valued implications, whereas age and the past are far less linguistically appealing in BBC Wales' Doctor Who.

Petrichor: Though The Encyclopedia makes a show of sticking to TV Who (c.f. this review's entries on Biggles and References) it does also include some bits of interpretation that were not self-evidently present in the televised episodes. One example of this is the perfume Petrichor, seen in Closing Time, which we are told here was created by Amy and Rory in order to attract the Doctor's attention. Is this Gary Russell's reading of the episode? Was it specified in the shooting script? Because this is a piece of character motivation that isn't clearly given in the story as broadcast.

Question, the: Doesn't get its own dedicated entry, and so can't be that important in the scheme of things.

References: Sticking to story facts means that many entries miss out on significant context. OK, the Anghelides Equation turns up in the fourth Adventure Game, but how about telling us who 'Anghelides' possibly refers to in real life? And, OK, Florizel Street makes an appearance in The Idiot's Lantern, but how about telling us what it refers to in real-world TV history? In-jokes are very definitely out as far as The Encyclopedia's concerned. But as an informational resource, I'd argue this volume would much be handier if it referred outwards a little bit more. Many entries miss out important real-world contexts.

Smith, Sarah Jane: Along with other characters who appear in spin-off shows, the entry for Sarah Jane covers only her BBC Wales' Who appearances, making minimal references to her earlier involvement in the show, and no references to the events of The Sarah Jane Adventures. Clearly some things have to be left out on grounds of space and word count, but when BBC Wales' production teams – Gary Russell among them – have made such an effort to co-ordinate Doctor Who, Torchwood and The Sarah Jane Adventures so that they cohere and reference one another, it seems a shame to exclude SJA, especially, from The Encyclopedia (Torchwood has, after all, been the subject of its own comparable reference volume, but the CBBC show never has been, and remains somewhat neglected in terms of reference works or companion volumes).

Typos: It's a capacious book. There's going to be a few typographical errors. But missing a word in the second sentence of the Introduction is rather remiss, especially as the team of fact-checkers and grammar spotters hasn't even been thanked by this stage. And although it's a real nitpick, the Best Typo Award goes to the fact that Gantok plays Lice Chess with the Doctor (p.130). Steven Moffat's version was lively enough, but I bet he's kicking himself now, having read about Lice Chess. Or scratching his head and wondering why on earth he didn't think of it first. (I bet it'll turn up in the series seven finale).

Under henge: or is it underhenge, as per Character Options' action figures?

Vicar: Between Rose and The Wedding of River Song there have been six different vicars in Doctor Who. And, of course, The Encyclopedia lists Vicar [1], played by Lee Griffiths, all the way through to Vicar [6], Paul Whiston. Let's just hope there's never a Time Lord character introduced who's called The Vicar (with many different dog-collared incarnations), or things could get really messy.

Wimey, timey: There are thirteen entries prefaced with “Time”, from Time Agency to Time Windows, including Time Field to cover series five's infamous crack. But there's no entry for “timey wimey”, meaning that The Encyclopedia can't be used to track infamous bits of dialogue like this, or other examples such as “Geronimo!”, “Allons-y”, “Silence will fall”, and “He will knock four times”. Given the ongoing importance of catchphrases to showrunners Davies and Moffat, this is a rather puzzling omission.

X-Factor, The: Restricted to a mention of character Lance Bennett's dialogue, rather than tackled as a real-world competitor for Doctor Who, this is another instance of production and broadcasting contexts being neglected.

Yappy: “A brand of electronic toy dog” from Closing Time, we're told in the spirit of completism. But again it's faux completism, neglecting to mention that “yappy” is also an in-joke at K9's expense (given the Doctor's accompanying comment).

Zero Room: Zero mentions of this, because although Neil Gaiman wanted to name check it in The Doctor's Wife, it didn't make the cut. There's also seemingly zero mentions of “Sexy”, the Doctor's name for the TARDIS, though if this was deemed appropriate for the TV show then it should surely be appropriate for factual inclusion here. However, it isn't referred to in entries dealing with Idris or the TARDIS (and the latter entry also makes no sustained references to The Doctor's Wife). Presumably Gary Russell was given an editorial directive: no hanky panky in The Encyclopedia.

The Sarah Jane Adventures: The Man Who Never Was

The Sarah Jane Adventures: Series 5 - The Man Who Never Was
Written by Gareth Roberts
Directed by Joss Agnew
Broadcast on CBBC- 17th - 18th October 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

As might be expected, this story makes for an emotional viewing experience: the finale that never was. But with its concluding montage, and its reassuring message that Sarah Jane's adventures will go on “forever”, episode two – never meant as a last hurrah – is transformed into a fitting ending for the series. The Man Who Never Was already has the feeling of an “event” story given that it properly brings together Luke and Sky for the first time, uniting two eras of the SJA family. An appearance from K9 would have been nice too, but the character is at least referred to, as are UNIT. (And K9 does appear in the final montage, along with the tenth Doctor, and Yasmin Paige as Maria). It's also great to see Sarah Jane's status as a leading journalist reinforced, as well as her earning power being mentioned in order to explain exactly how the attic is financed.

Gareth Roberts' script is deliciously witty, whether smuggling in that “full stop” joke, acknowledging “Clani”, or satirically mocking technology launches, with the Serf Board eventually being revealed as “bobbins”. Joseph Serf might be a reference to The Prisoner and one of Patrick McGoohan's pseudonyms (that Serf was another non-existent man), but this charismatic Serf and his Serf Board also put one in mind of Apple product launches, making the story even more strange to watch. Sarah Jane and Joseph Serf; Elisabeth Sladen and Steve Jobs. It's a story permeated and almost overwhelmed by real-world loss, its fiction pixellating and glitching in the mind's eye, as reality threatens to break through the production of TV fantasy.

James Dreyfus as Harrison continues the Sarah Jane Adventures' tradition whereby comic actors play relatively straight roles, and Dreyfus convinces in moments of menace and glib corporate greed. The aliens he has subjugated appear to represent the evils of globalisation, where Asian sweatshops can be exploited for cheap labour by major corporations (and as such, it's surely no accident that the Scullions were recovered from a crash in “central Asia”).

Working to animate Serf, the Scullion workforce and their areas of responsibility – smile, legs, speech – remind one somewhat of the Teselecta and its crew. But The Sarah Jane Adventures' lighter tone shines through; rarely have schemes for global market domination been so thoroughly undermined by a typographical error or two. And Serf's manipulation is played as fairly broad comedy via Mark Aiken's mugging, whereas the Teselecta's humour hailed more from the incongruity and absurdism of the anti-bodies, as well as from Steven Moffat's quickfire dialogue. Each vehicle is ultimately controlled by our protagonists, whether it's Luke and Sky running Serf behind the scenes, or the Teselecta being commandeered. Magical technology is always neutral, it would seem: easily capable of being turned against its villainous paymasters, and rapidly used for good rather than evil. Perhaps it's one of the great myths of our time – that the “little people” can fight back by readily twisting technology to suit themselves. Crush one pen, pull a few levers, and the Harrison chase is over.

Another SJA tradition is also returned to, namely that an older star TV actor will appear and pay tribute to Sarah Jane's charming nature. As Lionel Carson, Peter Bowles gets a little less to do than Nigel Havers did back in series three, but he flirts magnificently with Sladen, and the two convey great warmth and mutual respect. Characters Clyde and Rani also get to play at a relationship, taking on the role of married couple Trevor and Janet Sharp, a situation which Gareth Roberts mines for its comic potential. Like the preceding two stories making up this series, this is another accomplished production. In short, SJA bows out on a level of consistent excellence, and all involved should be proud of their work here.

This final story is as much about family as alien trafficking and capitalist exploitation. Sarah, Luke and Sky enjoy a “family outing” of sorts, and Clani refer to Clyde's picture being “a family thing”. Sarah's son and daughter make up an unconventional family unit – one that's entirely elective, and almost immediately harmonious. The old saying suggests “you can't choose your family”, but that's exactly what SJA says you can do. You can choose who to care for, and who to care about, just as Adriana does in this story (changing her own life in the process). Family in The Sarah Jane Adventures is not always fixed or inevitable. Instead, it is frequently chosen and embraced, rather like another six-letter word beginning with 'f': fandom. Sarah Jane might never have “expected to find a family”, but find one she did, just as Elisabeth Sladen perhaps unexpectedly found generations of fans. Fandom-as-family, and family-as-fandom; that's one lasting lesson of SJA. You – we – can always make the choice to care.

Goodbye, Sarah Jane Smith. Your story will no doubt go on, in fans' writings, memories, and new adventures yet to be imagined...

Doctor Who: The Brilliant Book 2012

Doctor Who - The Brilliant Book 2012
Edited by Clayton Hickman
BBC Books

It might be brilliant, but is it canon? This year's Brilliant Book (or next year's, depending on how you look at it) follows on from its predecessor by including a number of features expanding series six's stories as seen on screen. Tom MacRae writes about different colours of Handbot (topaz, avocado, or classic white); Mark Gatiss pens diary entries from young George (revealing the doll's house in his cupboard belonged to his mum); and Neil Gaiman unveils eleven things about the Corsair (including how her seventh incarnation allegedly dealt with Daleks on Clarkor Nine). Stephen Thompson elaborates on Henry Avery's adventures, while Matthew Graham's take on Gangers' rights involves a rather unusual birthday party. These features are a lot of fun, although casting an eye over the list of contributors does reveal a few notable absences. Busy writing the 2011 Christmas Special as this book neared its deadline, Steven Moffat doesn't proffer any additional material based around his five episodes, with those writing duties instead falling to the likes of Rupert Laight, David Llewellyn, Jason Arnopp, and James Goss. It's Arnopp who fills in what happened to the Doctor, Amy, Rory and River in the missing three months between The Impossible Astronaut and Day of the Moon, and Goss who fleshes out Madame Vastra's story. Although these are all interesting, witty pieces, it's still a shame that Moffat's distinctive writer's voice is lost from the “extras” elaborating on his stories. Toby Whithouse is likewise absent from story extensions of his ep, though he does reveal that the Doctor's "god complex", discussed in Rita's dialogue, wasn't originally planned as a thematic development of the episode title (p.129).

The biggest absence, though, is that there are no teasers/spoilers included, unlike last year's infamous Dream Lord featurette. Presumably the fact that series seven's filming is later than usual has meant that scripts are not sufficiently locked-down to allow for such things. Or perhaps the production team doesn't want to license fans' spoiler speculation this year? Whatever the reason, this gap is a real pity: last year's mixture of real and fake spoilers generated much online debate. Indeed, this Brilliant Book is extremely proud of 2011's spoilers, repeatedly telling readers that it featured the first appearance of “the only water in the forest is the river”. This is mentioned in the section for The Doctor's Wife (p.59), and referred to again in relation to A Good Man Goes To War (p.86). Wouldn't one mention have been enough? (Or does this count as editorial lobbying for the return of a teaser/spoiler feature next time?). We also learn that one of the Dream Lord's teasers actually inspired The Wedding of River Song, with “502 but never 503” being a fake spoiler from Gareth Roberts... until Steven Moffat read it, liked it, and worked it into his ep 13 script (see p.148). That's genuine dedication for you: a showrunner who deliberately deconstructs the line between true and false spoilers in an official tie-in publication.

Each story from The Christmas Carol to The Wedding of River Song is covered here via a number of regular features. Lee Johnson's full-page illustrations are simply stunning, with the contrast between his Rebel Flesh and Almost People pages being especially striking, whilst his compositions for The Doctor's Wife and The Wedding of River Song are also stand-out artworks. Through no fault of his own, though, David Bailey's story synopses feel like fourteen pages of filler. They are always elegantly written, but are nevertheless slightly coy about revealing episode endings – will anyone reading this book not have seen the relevant TV episodes? – and they don't really “add value” in the way that most other contents do. The “Where Have I Seen?” sidebars about guest stars also won't be of much worth to dedicated fans. And the feature has to be valiantly stretched to cover The Girl Who Waited, where we 'learn' about guest star Karen Gillan. Perhaps dropping this for one story would have been reasonable, but editor Clayton Hickman opts for consistency and (comedic) completism over common sense. That's genuine fandom for you: an editor who deliberately deconstructs the line between regulars and guest stars in an official tie-in publication.

A few features are written from the Doctor's perspective, including a hilarious job application to Sanderson & Grainger penned by Roberts and Hickman. This plays with next year's story possibilities by stressing that the Doctor is now officially and historically “dead”, meaning that his presence (in this very title) shouldn't be publicised. And another highlight is Mark Gatiss's return to writing for Simon Callow's Charles Dickens, as we discover how Dickens makes use of Twitter when time freezes at 5:02pm. These, along with Gaiman's "Planet of the Rain Gods" comic strip, are fixed points of greatness in this fine tome.

There's also a smattering of behind-the-scenes material, much of which focuses on monster-making or on interviewing the series regulars. The non-fiction side of things sometimes feels like a mash-up of Doctor Who Magazine and Doctor Who Confidential. Perhaps if the latter isn't restored to BBC Three then its brand could be continued in hardback annual form? But a wider mix of non-fiction material would also be welcome; Jason Arnopp's interview with director Toby Haynes strikes an unusual note by diverging from writer/actor/Neill Gorton quotes. There's very little Executive Producer presence here, for instance: couldn't the Brilliant Book have tracked down Beth Willis or Piers Wenger for a 'Brilliant Look Back at their Brilliant Memories of the Show'? Instead, silence falls somewhat when the question of exec-production is asked.

And given that I've already seen this title mercilessly strip-mined for news “exclusives” on the Interweb, here's one of my favourite Moffat soundbites (p.149):

Brilliant Book 2012: And finally: Doctor who? Care to give us any clues?

Steven Moffat: No. [The interview sidebar ends].

You can almost imagine the Digital Spy headline now: “Showrunner Says No Clue on Who”. In fact, Digital Spy is itself gently lampooned across the pages following Moffat's terse negative, where James Goss entertains by creating some Ceefax-style “Analogue Spy” stories. This feature, in particular, blends great design with sparkling content, but it should be said that one of the consistent strengths of the Brilliant Book 2012 – as last year – lies in its beautiful design, layout, and illustrations.

Although the range of non-fiction doesn't quite satisfy, and in an ideal world it'd be good to have all the TV writers contributing new fiction (as well as a proper section of series seven spoilers), this volume remains a highlight of the Doctor Who publishing calendar, despite only being in its second year. Whether or not its fiction is strictly canonical, The Brilliant Book 2012 is often informative, sometimes educational, and always entertaining.

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The Sarah Jane Adventures: The Curse of Clyde Langer

The Sarah Jane Adventures: Series 5 - The Curse of Clyde Langer
Written by Phil Ford
Directed by Ashley Way
Broadcast on CBBC- 10th - 11th October 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

Given Sky's recent introduction, you might be forgiven for pondering whether Clyde's role in The Sarah Jane Adventures is quite what it once was; he no longer has Luke around as a buddy, and Rani seems more likely to act as a mentor to Sky. Clyde's place in this new incarnation of The Sarah Jane Adventures seems more tenuous than ever before... making it pretty much the perfect time for this sort of story. Because here we get the chance to affirm Clyde Langer's importance to Sarah Jane and Rani, as well as Sky herself cleverly being written as Clyde's main supporter. In essence, these two episodes work extremely well to cement the new team.

We open with Clyde appearing to speak directly to camera, immediately linking us more strongly than usual to the character, and drawing us into identifying with his eventual plight. We begin with a fairly light tone, however, with gags about the fictional character of Suzy June Jones, Alien Slayer, and what must surely be a deliberate homage to The Unearthly Child/Remembrance of the Daleks in the form of Clyde's textbook on the French Revolution. Starting with in-jokes and the poisson sky also provides a counterpoint to later, darker events, giving this story a real sense of light and shade.

But it's Clyde's rapid descent into homelessness that forms the crux of Phil Ford's script. Setting up two puzzles – the totem pole curse and the Night Dragon disappearances – allows these to be effectively contrasted. Whilst one is fantastical, the other is simply a misunderstanding of ordinary life on the streets. Ellie Faber's world may seem like a case for Sarah Jane and the gang, but its mysteries ultimately belong to a different genre: another world where names are taken from posters and pizza boxes, and where identities can shift and change and get worn down without any need for curses or aliens. 

Lily Loveless is excellent as Ellie, although Clyde does seem to build a new life for himself rather rapidly, something which slightly takes the edge off episode two's representations of loss. And of course Ellie suffers the curse of the non-regular character, unable to be integrated into Clyde's usual life of family and friends.

The magical power of naming is referenced by this story's title – poor, unfortunate Clyde Langer – but culture is just as important here as naming. Children's television drama might not often focus directly on questions of culture, but that's what Phil Ford aims for. It's London's "Museum of Culture" which houses the creepily dangerous totem pole (itself a sort of “storybook” according to Sarah Jane), while Clyde's interest in the artefact is explained by his love of art. The fragility of culture is later emphasized when Clyde has to use one of his comic book sketches to get a fire going. And the strength of culture as a connection between people is finally restored by Clyde's portrait of Ellie – a work of art that links him to his memories and feelings. Art even offers a possible way off the streets for 'Ellie' and 'Enrico Box', with Clyde suggesting that he can draw for tourists at Covent Garden. References to art and culture are threaded through both episodes: culture is both threat and comfort, a storehouse of ancient powers and a source of present-day hopes. Homelessness might be the story's obvious central topic, but woven through this are quickfire sketches of culture's importance, and of how art and stories and names and belonging can all make life worth living.

There's another vital ingredient, though: reason. Sky continues to ask questions and pick at Clyde's absence because no-one can give her a good enough reason for their sudden new patterns of behaviour. “Psychophonic programming” means that Sarah Jane, Rani, and Clyde's mother have all started to act irrationally, and so Sky keeps on looking for a reason and a proper explanation, like an inquisitive child who can't ever stop asking “why?”

This is a very strong story, made up of striking images such as the fish storm and the animated totem pole, while Daniel Anthony puts in yet another outstanding, charismatic performance, and insistent incidental music helps build a feeling of exotic danger. The Curse of Clyde Langer suggests that there are real limits to what Sarah Jane's gang can achieve – they can defeat aliens but not London's alien domain of homelessness. But it also reinforces values of culture and reason, showing The Sarah Jane Adventures at its most enlightening. Phil Ford hits a definite high point with this tale, and I hope it won't be long until we see his work again in the many worlds of Doctor Who (assuming his name hasn't mysteriously blazed with a special effects' glow and vanished from all credits). 

 

The Sarah Jane Adventures: Sky

The Sarah Jane Adventures: Series 5 - Sky
Written by Phil Ford
Directed by Ashley Way
Broadcast on CBBC- 3rd October 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

Watching this story is an odd experience, because it's a re-launch of sorts that can't help but play out in the shadow of Elisabeth Sladen's untimely passing. As a result, there's a sense that although new story possibilities and new character dynamics are set up, we already know that these won't – in fact can't – really be developed or explored beyond the next few episodes. Sky is concerned with establishing a future for the series, but it is one which will never properly come to pass.

The story begins and closes with a voice-over from Sarah – “we're a part of the universe too, and we really aren't alone... life here can be an adventure too” – bringing to mind the structure and sentiments of Invasion of the Bane. Likewise, the eventual reveal of just who introduced baby Sky to Miss Smith also draws on the programme's history, while successfully leaving a greater mystery hanging in the air. Plus we get the added bonus of a return appearance from Floella Benjamin as Professor Celeste Rivers, suggesting that The Sarah Jane Adventures has fully and definitively grown into its own continuity: a Sarahverse intertwined with the Doctor's own Whoniverse.

Phil Ford makes excellent use of Rani's parents as a comic counterpoint to the more dramatic proceedings, though we never do get the punchline to “how many comedy headmasters does it take to change a lightbulb?” Episode one in particular contains many light-hearted moments; Clyde's turn as a children's entertainer is inspired, with his rustle/Russell joke surely being a sly shout-out to creator Russell T. Davies. And Professor Rivers' “wait for me, I'm in wellingtons!” is also a well-judged twist on what could otherwise have been a generic chase sequence. Despite her own scientific knowledge and professional standing, Celeste isn't above pretending to be a Sarah Jane-style adventurer; the glee of her “zap, zap” play-acting shows how inspiring Sarah's adventures can be. It's a tiny detail of Benjamin's performance, but it captures in microcosm the zest for life's adventures that has always been at the heart of this series.

Leaving Sinead Michael's first appearance as Sky until the episode one cliffhanger gives the story a strong kick into its second half, although the child-as-weapon idea seems very similar to A Good Man Goes To War. The parallel suggests that Sarah Jane and Who production teams may have become less cohesively engaged with one another by this point, but nonetheless Michael turns in a creditable performance. Sky is understandably a little limited in character terms, with much of her dialogue involving not understanding things, but presumably the next few stories will build on what is a promising debut.

One missed opportunity is the fact that there's never any doubt over Miss Myers' villainy thanks to her almost cartoonish costuming and depiction. I would have welcomed slightly more ambivalence; the script could have created greater mystery over whether or not Sky was actually being protected from an alien war by her mother. Instead, Miss Myers is little more than a caricatured maniac; the sort of anti-Sarah that we've seen before in the guise of various lady villains. Episode two illustrates how giving Sarah Jane a daughter in Luke's place has the potential to make the show far more directly and obviously female-focused, with Rani realising that she needs to become a source of fashion tips (“Ranipedia!”), whilst the story's resolution involves Sky having to choose between her different 'mothers'.

Prefigured by Professor Rivers' “zap, zap”, it's game-play which becomes crucial to saving the day when Clyde (a tad implausibly) shuts down a nuclear reactor in a sort of “big arcade game.” Playing Mario becomes a rehearsal for the story's heroics, although Clyde's skill has to be augmented by Rani's knowledge of the light spectrum. So it's ROYGBIV to the rescue, as textbook learning and gaming are equally called upon.

“There's always something more amazing to come”, Sarah Jane Smith tells us as the 'next time...' trailer starts up. That makes a good mission statement for a series opener, but as a viewer it's hard not to reflect on the loss and the pain of endings as well as the hope and pleasure of new beginnings. A recent Radio Times interview with Elisabeth Sladen's daughter Sadie Miller called this a “tribute series”, and it is partly that. But as the first new story screened after Lis's death, Sky also becomes something more than the sum of its parts. It's a tale of optimism coloured by fans' and audiences' real world sadness; a struggle between fiction and fact as much as between fleshkind and metalkind.

Reminding audiences of the value of child's play and playfulness, The Sarah Jane Adventures has been, and continues to be, a testament to the BBC's public service remit as well as to the popularity and charm of Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah. Although Doctor Who is sometimes referred to as “the mothership” or “parent” show, perhaps SJA's focus on stories of maternal care make it the true 'mothership' of the franchise. Welcome back, Sarah Jane; you're as sparky and as wonderful as ever.

Doctor Who: The Wedding of River Song (Review 2)

Doctor Who: Series Six - The Wedding of River Song
Written by Steven Moffat
Directed by Jeremy Webb
Broadcast on BBC One - 1 October 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK broadcast of the episode.

Including series six's punctuation this is the third finale from Steven Moffat, and strong patterns can be seen to emerge. Firstly, the showrunner revels in misdirection – setting up loyal, fan audiences to interpret details in a particular way, e.g. expecting that the Doctor will tell River his name as part of a Time Lord wedding ceremony, only to find we've been well and truly hoodwinked. Advance rumours and spoilers also indicated that the Daleks would turn up, and they do. Sort of. But rather than the ultimate evil (or even the ultimate wedding party gatecrasher), this Dalek is just a stepping stone to information about the Silence, again misdirecting audiences. Dorium Maldovar's involvement offers yet more sleight of hand; how on earth can a previously beheaded character return? Easily enough, of course, if it's accepted that talking heads can make for fun rather than dull TV.

An undoubted master in misdirection, Moffat also delights in opposing audience expectations. Having set up crucial puzzles and questions he immediately undercuts them. Last year we were all wondering how the Doctor could escape from the perfect prison, only to find he'd managed it before the episode 13 title sequence rolled. This year, we're primed to expect mysteries over how the Doctor can avoid a fixed point in time... and what we get instead looks like the opposite; a tale in which that very fixed point has to be safely restored.

Some fan knowledge is rewarded rather than opposed, though; it's hard not to view all the eyepatches as part of a Nicholas Courtney tribute, with one of Doctor Who's most infamous behind-the-scenes anecdotes finally getting in front of the camera. Such a feeling is reinforced by the Doctor's forlorn phone call to the Brig; even time travellers are sometimes too late. Moffat allows his fandom to shine through, creating a moment of media-pro fan fiction. This is a brand of fan fiction aimed at professionally commemorating the programme's long history, its own fixed points of reference, and its own markers of painful loss. In an episode where time is frozen, its real world passing is most certainly not forgotten.

The ultimate enemy here isn't the Doctor's death, though, or even the Brigadier's heartbreaking absence; it's the end of storytelling itself. Cheating a fixed point means all of time happening at once, stuck in the same day and time, over and over. It's a world which sustains surreal special effects and wonderful juxtapositions, making for some eyecatching, unusual TV drama. But it's also a world in which no more stories can be lived out: cause and effect, sequences of events – what we usually call plots and narratives – no longer seem possible. In part, this is a story-arc finale threatening a finale to all storytelling.

Only the Soothsayer can bring back the pleasures of a tale properly told. Fittingly enough, given that this is the culmination of an arc, The Wedding of River Song is fixated on acts of storytelling and stories. While the Doctor battles against history's cancellation, Steven Moffat plays games with the audience by exploiting our desire to find out all the answers: the Doctor begins to tell Emperor Winston Churchill his tale, while Dorium also promises an account of great import. These yarn-spinners, and their insistent delays and deferrals, deliberately tease the audience. And the false ending before River visits Amy does more of the same, playing a further game with our desire to find out what really happened.

Despite its focus on acts of storytelling, I'd argue that The Wedding of River Song isn't really that interested in answers. It gives some, sure, but almost resentfully, and because it has to. The Teselecta's use is somewhat anticlimactic, if not eminently guessable as soon as it appears. It's not really the point – the point is how we get there, and what new questions can be posed, because as a showrunner Steven Moffat seems far more interested in the transformation of Doctor Who's possibilities. Series five's finale combined the Doctor's opponents in a monster mash; series six part one concluded by combining characters and races in the Doctor's army, and now six part two combines all of Earth's history. Or rather, Earth history largely as depicted in the Moffat era. It's Victory of the Daleks meets Cold Blood meets The Impossible Astronaut; a demented mash-up of episodes previously overseen by this production team, with just a (Dickensian) dash of the old regime. Each of Moffat's finales has sought to mix up and transform usual ways of thinking about Doctor Who – what if all the monsters decided to team up? What if the Doctor brought together a team of fighters? And this time, what if different episodes teamed up? Like a fan remixing Who, Moffat performs transformative work on the show, but by doing so, he transforms his own prior labours as showrunner. This is Doctor Who as a full-on game of self-referencing and self-sampling.

Truth be told, though, The Wedding of River Song is pretty useless as a whodunnit. It's really an anti-whodunnit, a skilled exercise in suspense when we know all along who dies and who the killer is. It's pure storytelling: constant interruptions and colourful incidents that happen to get in the way of an ending for 45 minutes or so. And as with The Big Bang and A Good Man Goes To War, this finale again offers a breakneck blend of misdirection, opposition, fan fiction, and transformation. To coin a playful acronym, these things are a finale's m.o.f.f.a.t. quotient.

Doctor Who: The Wedding of River Song

Written by Emma Hyam

Doctor Who: Series Six - The Wedding of River Song
Written by Steven Moffat
Directed by Jeremy Webb
Broadcast on BBC1 - 1st October 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK broadcast of the episode.

Well I never…

This episode was always going to have quite the challenge to resolve all the issues that were raised in this series and to do it in a way that was satisfactory even more so. So lets take the first issue, did it answer all the questions raised?

Well, sort of, no doubts there will be plenty of viewers crying “cop out” at the posing of yet another mystery to be solved but the episode was successful in answering the questions that series 6 threw our way and sorted some stuff from previous years. Eye patches? Check. River Song’s marital status? Check. The Doctor’s fate? Check. The nature of The Silence? Check.

And here lies the issue, the episode was so geared towards tying off loose ends that the episode whizzed by at such a thunderous pace as to leave me feeling somewhat bamboozled and underwhelmed, there were some fun little moments, the appearance of Charles Dickens, the carnivorous skulls left by the Headless Monks, The Doctor’s attempt to get Captain Williams to ask out Amy and River and The Doctor’s shotgun wedding. It was well acted, I loved Karen Gillan’s work in this episode, her coldness in allowing the death of Madame Kervorian was awesome and more than a little terrifying. The visual effects were overall excellent and the fate of The Brigadier brought a tear to my eye.

Despite these bits I found my eyes flicking towards to clock, wondering how on earth they were going to get this to a conclusion and trying to keep everything straight in my mind. More than a few times I found myself thinking of this episode as functional rather than entertaining. You could sometimes see the plot points being hit rather than a fluid move from cause to effect. Problem is how could the show do anything else? By setting this series up to move towards an event that could never really take place without ending the whole show, whether this was a wise decision on Steven Moffat’s part is going to be a debate that keeps fandom going for the rest of time I think.

I think people really weren’t expecting things to be this straight forward, that there would be an immense universe imploding shock to the system that we go with “The Pandorica Opens”/”The Big Bang” but we should know better than that by now, with Steven Moffat things are never really that complicated when you scratch at the surface and I think when push comes to shove that will disappoint more than a few viewers. I wasn’t disappointed by what I saw, it was the logical conclusion of the last two series, in fact I’m looking forward to going back to series 5 and 6 and seeing how it works in retrospect, armed with the knowledge we have now. As I said earlier in this post the episode itself suffered under the weight of the purpose it had to fulfill but it was still a good piece of television. As series finales go it certainly wasn’t the worst we’ve been given, it wasn’t the best either but with me I’ll tolerate stuff from The Doctor that I’d never countenance from anyone else.

I’m sure as I type this the internet is ablaze with “MOFFAT MUST GO” and I think that was going to be the reaction whatever happened in this episode, it was always going to be seen as a cop out and thats a shame because whatever this episodes faults it doesn’t deserve that harsh a verdict. In 20 years time when people are writing clever books about series 6 and youngsters are discovering it for themselves I believe this episode will be held in much higher regard, much like series one’s “Boom Town”, hated by nearly everyone on transmission has now been subject to a great deal of revisionist praise.

So in conclusion I thought it was good albeit flawed, a lot of you who read this will think it sucked and Moffat should be hung from the nearest yardarm… as it always was and as it will always be, and when you think about it isn’t that just a tiny bit marvelous….?

Related Articles: Emma's previous reviews of the series may be found in her personal Blue Box Blog

Doctor Who: The Silent Stars Go By

Doctor Who: The Silent Stars Go By
Written by Dan Abnett
BBC Books
UK release - 29 September 2011

This review contains plot spoilers.

As if singing from the same hymn sheet as Steven Moffat's strategy for getting into a Christmas Special-ly sort of mindset, Dan Abnett cribs from Christmas songs for his chapter titles, as well as scattering a few lyrics through his prose. And this novel can pretty much be thought of as “the other Christmas Special 2011” given that it's about Ice Warriors attacking an Earth colony at their equivalent of Christmas time, while unusually vast amounts of snow are getting in the way of normal life. Abnett could hardly have made this any more Christmassy – there's a lovely coda showing the value of a thoughtful Christmas gift, a truly jaw-dropping seasonal pun at the conclusion of Chapter 1, and the winter wonderland setting is traditionally appropriate. No doubt many a fan will be finding this in their stocking or under the tree come December 25th – and if you wind up being one of those people, you'll be in for a treat.

In some ways this feels like a reaction to last year's The Coming of the Terraphiles, which to my mind read very strongly as a Michael Moorcock literary jape, but rather less strongly as a Doctor Who novel. 'Terra-' is an important prefix again this year, but followed by -form rather than -phile this time around. BBC Books have commissioned something that feels very much like a trad Doctor Who adventure. By and large the main characters' voices are captured well (even if the running banter about things being a bit “-ish” or a bit “-esque” wears slightly thin on occasion), and by page 41 the Doctor and Amy have already been separated from Rory, and a prison cell has loomed into the proceedings. If Christmas is all about rituals, then so too is Who.

The Ice Warriors' culture is lovingly rendered here. And we get a powdery dusting rather than a blizzard of continuity references: Jamie and Victoria are referred to, and the titular seeds from The Seeds of Death are remembered. The Doctor even points out that Ice Warriors appear to have got their own name wrong, since they were originally given the title by one of his companions, a fact which partly excuses Amy repeatedly calling them “Ice Men” in error. Plus the book's attractive, cold blue cover – always judge a book by its cover – makes it plain that we're not dealing with any rebooted, redesigned or Mini-Coopered Martians – these are stone-cold classic series monsters coming up against the eleventh Doctor, in what therefore feels like a curious (but compelling) blend of eras. It's as if 1960s or 70s Who has come in from the cold, clashing with the language and sensibilities of today: the Doctor says that his timing “sucks” (p.242), and tells his companions to “look at the pretty” (p.25) while Amy describes the Warriors as “very hench” (p.174) – dialogue that sometimes feels a touch too slang-esque. Or slang-ish. But language is consistently significant in this story, as Abnett plays an entertaining game with character names and locations; one that seems eminently guessable, and encourages the reader to speculate as to what's going on. But it's a language game that may still wrongfoot those schooled in the ways of The Face of Evil or State of Decay – see if you can spot the key word or phrase in the colonists' talk...

Dan Abnett also structures a few clever references to his story's title into events, so we find “snow falling as silently as moving stars” (p.83), and Ice Warrior's “scales [that] twinkled like stars as they showered into the air” (p.271). And the name that some Ice Warriors have for the Doctor – Belot'ssar – also becomes beautifully, poetically relevant at a certain point in the tale. It's these thoughtful details, glinting like winter sun on fresh snow, which make the book such a pleasure to savour, consistently revealing Abnett's mastery of his craft. Likewise, his witness accounts of Ice Warrior physiognomy are great. With my apologies to all, I'll admit I never found on-screen Ice Warriors to be the most convincing of alien races, but they are thoroughly plausible here: all red eyes, visors, and menacing green bulks glimpsed through the snow.

Oh, and as well as presenting a solid, hefty rendering of the Martian invaders, Abnett's closing sentence is just plain lovely. The point of this story isn't finding out what the “silent stars” are; science fiction 101 makes this as predictable as the changing of the seasons. Instead, perhaps the point is how elegant and brilliant and world-esque or world-ish mere words on the page can be. Building worlds doesn't always take DNA pools and gene codes and sublime cathedrals of engineering; terraforming is what storytellers do all the time with a well chosen description and a telling image. And on the strength of this showing, Dan Abnett is quite simply a great terraformer. If you haven't pre-ordered already then put this on your list for Santa; it'll make perfect midwinter reading.

The only downside to such a Christmassy “Ice Men” story? Well, it probably makes a TV Christmas Special covering this sort of ground rather less likely. But as a gift to fans who have long clamoured for just such a tale, this is a book of delights.

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Doctor Who: Closing Time

Doctor Who: Series Six - Closing Time
Written by Gareth Roberts
Directed by Steve Hughes
Broadcast on BBC One - 24 September 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

Doctor Who is often celebrated for its infinitely flexible format. And given that fact, it seems churlish to complain when it produces an episode of sci-fi sitcom infused with the language of our age. Emotional journeys, and giving it 110%: Gareth Roberts has got an app for that. Because this is very, very funny Doctor Who, fizzing with wit and containing some great sight gags. The lift that’s obviously a teleport; the changing room Cyberman adding a whole new meaning to ‘cyber-conversion’ - what's not to love?

And yet it should all have been so dark and desperate, witnessing the Doctor’s last days before Lake Silencio. We know his fate is closing in because we’re given the necessary visual cues: those blue envelopes (lucky that Craig and Sophie opted for TARDIS-blue stationery), receipt of a Stetson, and underwater River, ready and waiting. The iconography is brought into place, with everything wrapped up in a neat gift box ready for next week’s finale. I have one nagging question, mind you: how does the Doctor know for sure his time is up? Why can't he disappear off through time and space, deferring his visit to America and its fatal fixed point?

Setting aside this logic puzzle, Craig Owens makes a superb companion. Again. Personally, I suspect we’ll see him for a third time in 2013 if not before, James Corden’s schedule permitting. Sadly, however, Amy and Rory’s involvement is restricted to an in-joke, in-store promotion: Petrichor, 'For the Girl Who’s Tired of Waiting'. The scent of Moffat-Gaiman-MacRae referencing seems present just to ensure that Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill make the end credits, thus preserving last week’s surprise ending. Moffat knows all the tricks: he knows fans will be scouring cast lists, so the inclusion of Amy’s autograph scene feels calculated to defeat spoilerphiles. And although the moment is a massive coincidence, it's played for laughs as a coincidence. At the same time it has emotional clout built out of our affection for the TARDIS family – a story-beat whose bittersweet sentiment very definitely feels genuine rather than shop-bought. Even if coincidence is "what the universe does for fun”, this 'Doctor Who Coincidental' tugs at the heartstrings.

In an episode which switches companions, Roberts craftily plays with the meaning of ‘companion’. Not only does he riff on it as an old-fashioned term for partner in Val's subplot, he further integrates it into the “Time Lord and a man and a baby” storyline thanks to the Doctor’s comparison between his human companions and “sweet”, disarming babies. It’s cleverly done, with a suitably light touch, making the Doctor’s assistants a subject of humorous banter ("you're my baby!") rather than melodrama. Simultaneously, the Doctor becomes an assistant – “here to help” – and although showing him as a servant of capitalism seems more than a little incongruous, the episode promptly undercuts this meaning. Because the Doctor isn’t a shop assistant; he’s a universal assistant. “I was here to help” he tells three child bystanders, and suddenly we hear their adult voices speaking from the future. It’s a dizzying, glorious moment of time travel across human lives and memories. And occasionally Closing Time likewise jolted me back through time: Shona exploring the eerie emptiness of a Henrik’s-a-like store reminded me of Rose, while the silver rat Cybermat transported me back to watching Tomb of the Cybermen on video. Gareth Roberts can’t resist adding another layer of subversion, though, so we get an implicit acknowledgement that certain Doctor Who monsters might be introduced for their merchandising potential. As such, the Cybermat is a monster mistaken for a toy from the word go. The stock room of Sanderson & Grainger may say “there’s no such item”, but I’d put money on it becoming a real-world plaything before too long.

This isn’t simply well-written comedy, it’s a well-written episode, full-stop. We get an ‘A’ story – the Doctor helping Craig to cope with baby Alfie, or Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All as he prefers to be known. Plus we get a ‘B’ story – a subplot (and it is pretty much a subplot) featuring Cybermen who are busy shoplifting department store assistants to build up their forces. Then there’s a neat dovetailing of plots A and B at the crucial moment of resolution, as Craig blows up the Cybermen “with love” for his son. Looked at from a screenwriting perspective, it all works with machine-tooled precision.

Still, I can’t help the feeling – and it’s a feeling strong enough to reboot emotional subsystems – that the Cybermen are defeated far too easily here, even if they are a low-grade outfit cobbled together out of “old spare parts” rather than being the real deal. Cyber-conversion can be reversed by a parent’s love now? Let's face it, these bargain basement Cybermen were never likely to succeed in taking over Colchester, let alone the world. For me, the conclusion slightly cheapens one of Doctor Who’s iconic monsters, as well as being “grossly sentimental and over simplistic”, as the Doctor himself points out. OK, the dialogue is part of yet another gag, but it’s a fairly high-risk one, going for an off-the-shelf emotional ending while illuminating its ersatz sentimentalism. And despite poking fun at the “emotional journey” associated with Britain’s Got Talent – or Torment – it’s the Doctor’s emotional journey, as much as Craig's, that we follow through this episode. The Cybermen may threaten to remove emotion, but Closing Time generates sentiment at the same time as mocking its formulaic manufacture. In a slightly queer, unstable way, it's never quite sure how it feels about feelings. But never mind that, because I've got an appointment I can't miss. A fixed point in time. Yes, next week is The Wedding of River Song.

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Doctor Who: Day of the Daleks (Special Edition DVD)

Written by Matt Hills

Doctor Who: Season 9 - Day of the Daleks
Written by Louis Marks
Directed by Paul Bernard
Broadcast on BBC1 - 1st - 22nd January 1972
DVD release - 12 September 2011

This review is based on the UK Region 2 DVD release.

This DVD release is timely, given the direction that the show has taken of late. Back in 1972 it possibly seemed daring for a TV series about time travel to broadcast a story focused on, well, time travel, but these days temporal paradoxes are ten-a-penny in Doctor Who. Day of the Daleks did it with seventies' panache, though, and its episode four exposition – as the Doctor realises what's happened, or will happen – still packs a decent punch. But Day's appearance on DVD is timely for a number of other reasons too. It's difficult to hear Jo Grant talking about “September the 13th” – a key date in the story – without hearing strange echoes of our own “September 11th” and its recent anniversary. At the same time, the story's release was surely deliberately scheduled for September 12th in the UK, allowing those who pre-ordered or snapped up a copy quickly to watch Day of the Daleks again on the most appropriate of days. Whether it's historical contingency changing the associations viewers now bring to a Jon Pertwee story, or playful use of 2Entertain's schedule, this release is all about time. It includes a useful “Now and Then” feature (particularly pertinent since new footage for the Special Edition involved returning to Dropmore Park), as well as Part Two of “The UNIT Family”. And the reworked Day of the Daleks gets its own separate making-of on Disc Two. The commentary track includes Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts, with contributions from actors Jimmy Winston and Anna Barry as well as vision mixer Mike Catherwood, who also participates in “A View from the Gallery”. All of this provides a good mix of front-of-camera and behind-the-scenes anecdotes, with features from Blue Peterand Nationwide further contributing to the package, though neither seems to represent the Daleks especially well.

Among all these extras, Disc One's “Blasting the Past” includes some interesting observations from the likes of Terrance Dicks – unimpressed by the Doctor casually shooting an Ogron – and assorted commentators bemoaning the 'three Dalek problem' of the story, with director Paul Bernard coming in for a fair amount of criticism. This lack of Daleks becomes one of the key narratives told about Day, production and fan lore which positions the story as weak in credibility. However, viewed after the events of 2005's Dalek (seemingly referred to by Anna Barry in the commentary) is this really such an issue? Why shouldn't the Daleks send a taskforce of three to sort out the Earth's timeline? It could be argued that rather than making their military mission look under-powered, this reinforces the Daleks' potency. But fandom's favoured interpretation – three Daleks bad – finds itself given succour by this DVD. It's unsurprising, really, because fan interpretations essentially inform all the changes made in Disc Two's main event: the reshaped Special Edition.

Fandom seems agreed on the 'fact' that Day's Dalek voices are a bit rubbish. Early on, they're slow and ve-ry, ve-ry ob-vi-ous-ly syllabic, but that reinforces the Daleks' alien nature. Hearing the original voices again, they don't sound quite as shockingly dreadful to my ears as the DVD Extras and Making-ofs want to assure me is the case. Although Nick Briggs' new vocal performance is as polished and Dalek-y as you could ever wish it to be, I'm still not wholly convinced by the desire to iron out Doctor Who's rough edges or story-by-story inconsistencies. As “Blasting the Past” points out, sometimes you just can't make everything fit together. (And additional Disc Two extra, “The UNIT Dating Conundrum”, makes much the same point). Ben Aaronovitch's sage words on the subject of overall continuity run as follows:

“Each Doctor has to be seen on their own terms, and the moment you start saying, right, we're going to put this meta continuity on to them... on to some ridiculous little detail like whether they drink alcohol or not, then it's just insane. Of course [the] Pertwee [Doctor] drank alcohol”.

Call this the Aaronovitch Limitation Effect, if you like: it basically says that we should just learn to live with Doctor Who's inconsistencies of detail rather than trying to make everything meet up in perfect continuity. But if we can't ever consistently track the Doctor's attitude to drinking, or UNIT dating, then why aim for consistency in Dalek voices so that they 'fit' with other portrayals? Equally, why worry about whether there are three Daleks if it can be argued that just one is enough to cause a right old ruckus? (Sadly Rob Shearman isn't called upon as a talking head in this instance, so I had to imagine my own extra-special edition where he contests the view that three Daleks can't make a convincing attack force).

One Special Edition change directly corrects what members of the production team have bemoaned as a “mistake”. So the gun-toting, Ogron-blasting Doctor criticised by Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts is deftly revised. Now we see the offending Ogron shoot first, with the Doctor acting in self defence. By contrast, other tweaks strike me as more questionable, or as matters of fan taste: why alter the images of past Doctors which in the original are accompanied by elements of the Doctor Who closing title sequence, so that now the new images have a more generic visual backdrop? The title sequence appearing in-story is an interesting detail: seeing visuals which usually frame Doctor Who bleeding into the narrative folds the show strikingly in on itself. Altering this bizarre moment seems tantamount to trying to smooth out and unfold the text; a bit of a shame when the original has a notable, quirky charm.

More understandably, other changes are aimed at beefing up the SF and action-adventure credentials of the story, so that now we see characters disintegrate rather than simply disappear; the Doctor's trike exploits have been visually souped up and the Controller's death sequence is rendered even more dramatic, as are various battle sequences. These additions generally work well, unlike the newly designed 22nd century panorama which looks too much like dropped-in CGI for my tastes, and is markedly out of keeping with the production values and visuals surrounding it.

One of Disc Two's extras “The Cheating Memory” is a discussion of how memory works, but it also amounts to a statement about the story's reconstruction by producer Steve Broster, since it contrasts footage from the two versions of Day of the Daleks, one dubbed 'Memory' and the other 'Reality'. The 'Memory' version is actually the Special Edition: the suggestion is that Broster has finally produced his remembered version of Day – more spectacular than it actually was in 1972. Memory hasn't cheated here, though. Instead, one fan's childhood memories have inspired a re-ordering of reality, i.e. a reworking of the story.

But I don't think memory is the crucial term in all of this. After all, this Special Edition isn't really about one fan's memory – it's a team effort drawing on the skills, the craft, and the artistry of people such as Mark Ayres, Nick Briggs, Toby Chamberlain, John Kelly and others. As such, the two Dalek Days shouldn't be captioned 'Memory' and 'Reality'; they should be thought of as 'Community' versus 'Reality', because it's the fan community and its priorities that are testified to here rather than Broster's own personal recollections. It's effectively the fan community – or at least one generation of fans – which has determined how Day should be fixed and enhanced. It's fandom that's driven this agenda, working against the Aaronovitch Limitation Effect to make Dalek extermination effects more like they 'should be', along with voices, and visions of the 22nd century.

Day of the Daleks: Special Edition is thus almost a sort of anti-Star Wars release. Where that franchise has a creator and rights-owner who keeps on 'fixing' (that is, messing with) details that its fan community feels are sacred, in Doctor Who's case it's the fan community that's able to fix details it has identified, over the years, as being problematic. The Day of the Daleks: Special Edition is quite clearly a labour of fan love, and deserves to be appreciated in that spirit. But I think it should also be remembered that fan communities have a habit of revising their collective views over time: what seem like 'facts' about Day's failings may well be revised again in the future. Rather than simply capturing a childhood memory, then, or representing an objective take on Day, the Special Edition showcases fandom's creativity and professionalism whilst offering a snapshot of communal, generational interpretations of the original story. While there may be no perfect Day to be had, both versions on this DVD are vibrant reminders of how iconic Doctor Who can be of its time: then, and now.

Purchase from our Amazon store (Region 2).

Related Articles: DVD details (8 Aug 2011); Feature clips (9 Sep 2011)

Doctor Who: The God Complex

Doctor Who: Series Six - The God Complex
Written by Toby Whithouse
Directed by Nick Hurran
Broadcast on BBC1 - 17th September 2011

This review contains plot spoilers and is based on the UK preview of the episode.

In an era of the show when so much leaks out ahead of broadcast, whether in spoiler tags or the Radio Times, it’s genuinely rare for a major, series-changing event to wallop you between the eyes. But that’s what The God Complex achieves, craftily tucked away in the episode eleven slot. Good old number eleven, it had to be this Doctor’s Room of Fear, of course. But for the eleventh episode in a run of thirteen to write out two lead characters? Own up, who saw that one coming? And in a story written by Toby Whithouse too, rather than one of the showrunner's episodes where you might expect such momentous events to fall. Steven Moffat, you sly devil.

As for those final few minutes, well, the moment has been prepared for. Both last week, with the Doctor’s final regretful glance – filled with remorse at what he’d put Amy through – and this week where it’s Amy’s faith in him which generates life-threatening events. “You’re fired”, the Doctor jokes to Pond upon meeting Rita (it’s a big day for fans of The Apprentice). But this is what he eventually does – Amy gets her marching orders, albeit for her own good. “He’s saving us”, she informs Rory. You wouldn’t think being presented with a house and a car could seem so bittersweet; in almost any other show they’d be the trappings of success, the big prize, the markers you’ve made it. Not here. Here they’re the melancholic second choice, the non-Doctor-ish ordinariness that even Rory’s dream car glee and clutched bottle of champagne can’t quite make good on.

But it’s cleverclogs Rita who says the most important thing in the whole story. It’s she who observes of the Doctor: “that’s quite a god complex you have”. Because the eleventh Doctor doesn’t seem to credit Amy with any agency at all – as far as he’s concerned, she never really had a choice to join him on his travels. And likewise she doesn’t get to decide when she leaves – both events are arranged by the Doctor, busy playing God. If her faith in him is reduced, or weakened for a moment, even that’s his doing too. Amy's choice? She seemingly doesn't have one. It’s all about the Doctor-God. After this it’s difficult to see him welcoming another full-time companion aboard the TARDIS in a hurry, although given his alleged middle name Amy and Rory may be back before too long. Perhaps the Moffat masterplan has been partly inspired by Time-Flight and Arc of Infinity (not a sentence I thought I'd be writing this morning).

The meat-and-potatoes of this story are again well handled by director Nick Hurran: the hotel complex is textbook creepy, and near-subliminal images of “Praise him”, whether presented in clean typeface or ransom-note print, boost what is already a highly kinetic piece of direction. Making the story's spooky catchphrase televisual in this way is an unusual approach, especially when it flickers on-screen immediately prior to the title sequence. It's a little ostentatious, but in a story as surreal as this, it fits right in.

The Minotaur creature is also effectively realised on the whole. Despite the episode name-checking a certain Nimon, David Walliams refrains from doing a Soldeed, instead turning in an almost restrained performance as Gibbis even if Joe the gambler compensates by dialling his menacing mania up to eleven. And on the subject of hotel/prison complex victims, Royston Luke Gold looks uncannily like producer Marcus Wilson. Hopefully no members of the production team were made to confront their greatest fears during the making of this episode.

Whithouse’s script is neatly structured, with its fear-to-faith switcheroo subverting that telefantasy staple where a monster feeds on fear and can be defeated by faith. This time, faith is part of the problem rather than the solution. But religion isn't simply the enemy; The God Complex thoughtfully distinguishes itself by offering up a resourceful, engaging Muslim character in the shape of Rita, briefly acknowledging and challenging prejudice via her line “don't be frightened”. And although Rory's lack of religion and superstition mean that he's repeatedly shown the exit, Whithouse adroitly avoids preaching 'secularism-good, religion-bad' by indicating that the “prison in space” has itself been built by an advanced, secular society. What the Doctor's up against isn't just a God Complex; there's also a Glitch Agenda. Technology's gone wrong again, leaving different fears and phobias in situ. This is an overly familiar trope, and if the devil's in the detail then greater variety in story details sometimes wouldn't hurt.

Certain other elements of The God Complex are also excessively familiar. For example, Howie the conspiracy theory blogger-nerd comes across as a lazy, retrograde stereotype that no amount of stylish retrograde zooms can quite make up for. “What’s loser in k-k-k-Klingon?”, one of the girls in Howie’s room taunts him, and you can’t help but feel that it’s a misjudged moment. Even though we're meant to be seeing Howie's fears, the fact that Rory sarcastically dismisses his theories (and that they're written so as to sound loopy) suggests the character should be viewed as a 'sad' fan-blogger-conspiracy nut. After challenging anti-Muslim feeling, it's a pity that prejudice against sections of fandom/Internet culture seems rather unreconstructed. Why not go the whole hog and just provoke your own online fan audience: “what’s loser in m-m-m-ming mong?” (The answer’s ming mong, obviously).

But it’s the ending that’s really provocative – rarely has the Doctor's god complex been so thoroughly exposed. This isn’t one-off Waters of Mars-style hubris; this is saying that all of Amy’s time with the Doctor – from being offered time and space to being offered a terraced house – was decided by him, and controlled by him every step of the way. “I’m not a hero”, he gently tells her while seeking to undermine her faith, but as the TARDIS interior fades to desolate darkness and ‘NEXT TIME’ slams in, you can’t help but wonder. Perhaps he was right. Is he straightforwardly saving Amy, or has she always been an object of His will? Because the more you ponder some of this episode's implications, the more it begins to test your faith in the Doctor himself. In short, The God Complex is satisfyingly complex storytelling.

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