An Hour of Who a Day: September 2024

September 30: "The Devil's Chord"

Now this is a bit of trivia for you: not counting Resurrection of the Daleks (which doesn't really count anyway since it was broadcast as one episode per day), this is the first time two full-length episodes of Doctor Who have debuted on the same day, as "The Devil's Chord" went out immediately after "Space Babies" (perhaps they were worried no one would come back if that was the last thing they'd seen for a week).

This is certainly a stronger episode than "Space Babies" was, but more than that, you can see why they aired it back-to-back with the previous one: in tandem, these two episodes do a really good job of showing off what Doctor Who can do. If "Space Babies" was about the future and space and monsters, this is about the past and visiting celebrities and human-seeming villains; as a contrast, it works really well. But while I can see why they aired it second, part of me wonders if it might not have been better a little later in the series.

On the surface that's a bit surprising, because, while there were some hints of oddness in that opening scene, in general this starts like a fairly typical celebrity historical. We meet some people who sound like and slightly resemble the Beatles, someone else who looks more like Cilla Black (although she wouldn't be signed by Brian Epstein until September 1963, but never mind), and a general puzzle regarding what's wrong with music. It's not until Maestro, the main villain, makes their presence known to the Doctor that things go sideways, as they start to distort the story around them. And honestly, that's not really a bad thing! Some of the best stories have a sudden shift that changes what you thought was happening. So what's off about this one?

Part of the issue may be the more experimental (for lack of a better word) nature of Maestro. Played to the hilt by Jinkx Monsoon, Maestro is a gloriously scene-chewing villain, clearly relishing every moment. Maestro is explicitly named as one of the Toymaker's children (from "The Giggle", if you'd forgotten), and in fact the giggle itself heralds their presence to the Doctor. If the Toymaker was all about games, then Maestro is about music. But where the Toymaker wanted to play games, Maestro just wants to consume music, trying to make it so that there's nothing left but the Aeolian tones of the universe, devouring even the music of the spheres. "That lament will be my symphony supreme," Maestro proclaims. So we get a villain who seems incredibly powerful and wonderfully camp, having a ball while they destroy everything. But we've had that kind of thing before, so what's different here?

The Doctor confronts Maestro, who is holding Ruby captive. ("The
Devil's Chord") ©BBC

Is it too weird? This is a story, after all, that features CG musical staves grabbing people and dragging them around. (Which also leads to a wonderful, slightly bizarre joke about the Doctor commenting that he thought the music that grabs Ruby was non-diagetic (in other words, not heard by the characters). Does that mean he hears Murray Gold or Dudley Simpson or Paddy Kingsland as he travels through time and space?) The sight of the music flying around is reminiscent of the music battle from 2022's Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, so there's also an element of magic involved -- we're rather a long way away from the Doctor's "there's no such thing as magic" position of The Dæmons. It also seems to hinge on the idea that no one before Timothy Drake (the instructor at the top of the episode) had played that particular tritone before, which seems unlikely. So it relies on coincidence and it's borderline magic. It also feels an awful lot like the confrontation with the Toymaker in "The Giggle", when he pulled the Doctor and Donna into a theater -- only this time it's a stage in the ruined Earth of Ruby's time if Maestro isn't stopped, Pyramids of Mars-style. Coincidence, magic, and familiarity then.

But that's the thing. None of that should really matter, and viewed in isolation, it works really well. No, the main issue is that this episode feels out of place. The Doctor and Ruby seem too familiar with each other, as if they've been travelling together for some time now, and Ruby mentions at one point that she thinks it might be June for her now, which would suggest this was initially intended to be later in the season. But this issue really manifests itself in the Doctor's reaction to Maestro. He seems completely terrified by them, to the point where he runs away and hides. And at this point, we just don't know the fifteenth Doctor well enough to know just how atypical this is. (His description of the events of "The Giggle" also seem to imply a much more fearful encounter from the Doctor's perspective than what it looked like in that episode. Maybe Maestro is also making a noise at 17 Hz to scare the Doctor, like the Bogeyman in "Space Babies".) Is Maestro really that scary, or is the fifteenth Doctor a bit of a coward? It doesn't seem likely, but the point is that we don't know for sure yet: we haven't seen Fifteen in action enough.

So by no means is it a bad episode, and the performances from the main cast are once again excellent, with Gatwa and Gibson clearly both having a blast. It's got a weird ending, sure, as if they wanted a dance number but couldn't figure out how to put it into the episode proper, so they just tacked it on to the end, but that's not the worst thing ever. But it's got great energy, an interesting premise, and a sense of the show stretching itself, to demonstrate it can do more than slightly silly space stories. If it had aired later in the season (maybe around episode 5), with a better established relationship with Ruby and more familiarity with this Doctor, I don't think I would have as many reservations. I can see why they moved it up to episode 2; I just kind of wish they hadn't.

(There's always a (Susan) Twist: in this case she's the tea lady charging half a crown for two cups of tea.)

September 29: "Space Babies"

We've had a Christmas special, but now it's time, nearly 5 months later, for the regular season to begin. And like the previous season, series 14 also consists of 8 episodes plus a special. Series 13 was that way due to COVID; series 14 is that way because... the previous series was? It's not really clear why.

But in any event this is basically the start of the new series. So, Russell T Davies appears to have decided, this would be a good time to reintroduce the basic premise and rules of the show. (Maybe Disney also requested this?) But the result is rather clunky: we get a bunch of exposition about who the Doctor is and how the show works (right down to explaining what TARDIS stands for), along with a slightly odd sequence where Ruby steps on a butterfly and turns into a lizard person (though not a Silurian) until the Doctor somehow resurrects the butterfly. The sequence manages to be both clunky and really bizarre -- they did a much better job with Bill in "Thin Ice".

The Doctor and Ruby with the space babies. ("Space Babies") ©BBC

But then this whole episode is rather bizarre. On an intellectual level I can appreciate the chutzpah in making the main characters a bunch of talking babies running a spaceship; I'm just not convinced they pull it off. Part of the issue is that babies aren't actors, so they can't deliver performances. The baby playing Eric, for instance, perpetually looks incredibly unhappy, even when he's meant to be happy. They try, of course, with the voice actors and the CG lip sync, but it never quite works. It doesn't help that we never really get the sense, after an initial "checking readings" bit, that these babies (who are also 6 years old? That also never quite makes sense) are really running things. But then maybe it's just an illusion to give the babies something to do, I suppose. Certainly it seems like Jocelyn is the one actually trying to run the station, posing as the computer NAN-E so that she doesn't "see them die. And I don't want them to see me die." Making the computer actually just one overworked person is a clever idea, and it leads to some entertaining moments -- if they'd run with that a bit more, it might have been more interesting. Unfortunately, however, they instead spend a bunch of time dealing with the monster of the week, which is, let's face it, a snot monster. This has the real feel of Davies noticing the similarities between Bogeyman and the slang word "bogey" and deciding to build a monster around it. In that regard it's very reminscient of the eye-booger monsters from "Sleep No More" and is about as believable.

So once again this means it's up to Gatwa and Gibson to carry the episode. To his credit, Gatwa is so exuberant as the Doctor, marveling at everything, that he is in fact able to do a lot of the work of making this entertaining. Watching him coo over "space babies" or wonder why he's frightened of the Bogeyman is a joy. There's also the throwaway comment suggesting the Star Trek universe is real (unless he's suggesting visiting the soundstage or something), which is wonderfully cheeky. Meanwhile, Millie Gibson is doing a good job of being both the audience identification and showing why the Doctor chose her, being both brave and smart, such as when she works out the actual computer has designed the station to basically be a children's story. The word for her is plucky, and she fulfills the role admirably, being clever without being annoying. That said, there's a weird moment where the Doctor is asking if there was a note left when Ruby was dropped off at the church, and it starts snowing. It's not at all clear why, but this at least seems to be an ongoing mystery through the whole series, given the final scene. But even so, it's a strange little moment.

The ending is also a bit strange. I get Jocelyn wanting to get rid of the Bogeyman, and I understand why the Doctor wants to save it. I don't really get why the babies are so upset that the thing that's been terrorizing them is being destroyed. Even a line or two might have helped explained this, but as is it's because the babies are just good? Or something? And then the whole thing ends with basically a fart joke, as there's been a build-up of methane that the Doctor expels to propel the station to a refugee planet. If they'd leaned into that it might have been audacious enough to be worth it, but the way it's presented it's just another weird moment in an episode filled with weird moments.

Because that's the thing with this episode. It's competently made and the performances from the adult actors are enjoyable, but it never really coheres into anything. There's a veiled comment about abortion ("So the planet down below refused to stop the babies being born, but once they're born, they don't look after them?" Ruby asks. "It's a very strange planet," Jocelyn replies. "It's not that strange," Ruby says), but just like the rest of it, it's a moment that never snowballs. The problem with "Space Babies" is that there's almost nothing to engage with. It's a silly premise that they don't push nearly far enough in any given direction, either with the babies in charge or any sort of social commentary or anything at all, really. As with the last episode, this is an episode that, if it succeeds at all, is due to performances -- but "Space Babies" doesn't even have the fantasy vibe to fall back on. I appreciate the absurdity of the main conceit; I just wish they'd done more with it.

(This week's Susan Twist appearance: Comms officer Gina Scalzi, signing off duty on the Babystation.)

September 28: "The Church on Ruby Road"

After three episodes of celebrating the series, it's now time to look forward with a new Doctor. Same logo and titles though, which is perhaps slightly surprising, since I'd sort of figured that was just for the 60th. But I suppose if you've spent all that time and money branding things with the new logo, you don't want to immediately get rid of it.

But here we are at the start of series 14 -- and it is series 14, no matter what Disney or anyone else says. I get it's not sexy to start your new show at 14 (and runs the risk of people asking where 1-13 are), but trying to pretend this is "season one" is disingenuous. It gets even slightly dafter when you consider that the first three episodes Disney put on their streaming service were the 60th anniversary specials, so they've already admitted there's a whole bunch of the show that's not on their streaming service. (Not that you'd know it through their interface; when you click on "Doctor Who" the fourteenth Doctor is nowhere to be found -- those are apparently "Doctor Who Special 1-3" and something completely different.) And besides, we've already had a season one and it starred William Hartnell.

Sorry, where was I? Ah, that's right.

It's the start of series 14 and, more importantly, for the first time since 2017, Doctor Who is back on Christmas Day (instead of the New Year's Day experiment Chibnall tried). This means that once again we get a festive opening, with Christmas trees and decorations and such. But unlike some other Christmas episodes, this time the focus is not so much on Christmas as it is on our incoming companion: Ruby Sunday (which, let's be honest, isn't a great name since it sounds like an off-brand Rolling Stones song). And so we (and the Doctor) follow Ruby around a bit, seeing that she seems to be a magnet for bad luck for some reason. This, by the way, lets us see the fifteenth Doctor in a white tank top and kilt, dancing in a club -- something it's a bit difficult to imagine many, if any, of the other Doctors doing, yet Gatwa makes it seem completely natural. But yes, we learn that Ruby is a musician (complete with another Susan Twist appearance), a foundling who was adopted by a loving foster mother, and unlucky. It's those last two qualities that the episode is going to mainly focus on, with the last one, it seems, related to the second: there are goblins stalking Ruby, making her life seem unlucky, so that the coincidence of a baby arriving to be fostered on the same day of the year as Ruby was found will make the baby more appetizing to the goblins who are going to eat the baby. Or something. To be honest, it's a bit difficult to follow the rationale here. I get that the goblins like coincidence, but I'm not sure how bad luck plays into it. Does it make people more memorable or something and thus more prone to coincidence? Are coincidences and bad luck related somehow? It's never really clear.

Ruby and the Doctor cling to the goblins' ladder. ("The Church on Ruby
Road") ©BBC

But then in some ways it doesn't matter. There's almost a dream logic at work here, with goblins operating a flying cloud ship that's held together and powered by knots and who come down and kidnap babies to eat. Oh, and who can "bimble" through time. We get some handwavy stuff about a science based on luck which is a different form of physics, but even that feels token at best, a way to say, "don't worry about it, just enjoy the episode". This is one of the most overt dalliances with out-and-out fantasy that the show's ever had; whether you like that or not may come down to personal preference.

In terms of the story, the most successful part is the moment where the goblins go back in time and take baby Ruby away from the church she was left at back in 2004, because we get a glimpse into the life of Ruby's mother Carla if she'd never fostered and then adopted Ruby. It's a much colder and less cheery life, and Michelle Greenidge, playing Carla, does an excellent job of showing us the subtle differences, seeming much more tired and worn-down in the Ruby-less timeline. It's a nice way of showing how someone can make a difference in others' lives, without being too flashy or twee. That's where the real meat of the episode is, not in singing goblins and flying ships. Not that those bits aren't entertaining, mind, and there's something wonderfully audacious not just having a jolly pop song about eating babies but then having Ncuti Gatwa and Millie Gibson join in to sing their own verses. It's just that those bits don't resonate in the same way as the parts with Carla, or the Doctor admitting he recently learned he was adopted.

Oh! But we haven't properly discussed Ncuti Gatwa or Mille Gibson yet! It's perhaps not much of a surprise, given his performance in "The Giggle", but nevertheless Gatwa completely owns every scene he's in. His Doctor is confident and fun-loving, and there's no hint of uncertainty in Gatwa's performance. The exuberance on display is infectious, and you want to see more of him, both marveling at the universe and in the quieter moments, such as the aforementioned "adoption" scene or his interactions with Ruby-less Carla. He simply is the Doctor. Against that Millie Gibson does a good job of holding her own. There was a slight worry, in the publicity leading up to this episode, that Ruby was going to be another version of Rose Tyler, but she manages to sidestep that for the most part. She's engaging to watch, letting Ruby's kindness come through along with her pluck, and it doesn't feel like Ruby's just another Rose.

So like I said, appreciation of this story likely depends on just how much pure fantasy you want in Doctor Who. I'm personally a bit ambivalent about it, but fortunately the performances of the cast carry the show, so that even if you do wonder just what's up with those goblins, you don't find yourself completely bored or disconnected from the story. This story succeeds on the shoulders of Gatwa, Gibson, Greenidge, and the rest of the cast, much more so than the script itself. And sometimes that's enough.

(Oh, and what's the deal with Mrs. Flood? How does she know what a TARDIS is?)

September 27: "The Giggle"

We've now reached the third and final of the 60th Anniversary specials. It's a bit odd; for every other Doctor, we've never quite known when their tenure will end (even Eccleston got three days after "Rose" before his departure was announced), but the fourteenth Doctor's time has always been limited to these three specials. This Doctor has always been on borrowed time, and now that time is up. And this time, an old enemy is returning -- fitting for a 60th anniversary special. So we start at the dawn of television, as John Logie Baird's assistant is sent to buy a dummy to use as the test subject, where he enters a toy store run by a man with a (deliberately) cod German accent. "What a game we are playing," the man says, after he's informed the dummy is to be used for a television experiment. And so when we see the television transmit the image of the dummy, Stooky Bill, we also hear a strange giggle as the dummy catches on fire, due to the intensity of the lights -- a giggle that's going to have a pretty dramatic impact on humanity 98 years later...

And so after the end of the previous episode, where we saw the entire world gone mad for some reason, UNIT wastes no time picking up the Doctor and Donna and transporting them to UNIT HQ, which now looks vaguely like Avengers Tower from the Marvel movies. (Guess they had the time and money to build a new skyscraper after the last one went boom in "The Power of the Doctor".) We get to see Kate Stewart again, along with Shirley Anne Bingham and, gloriously, the Doctor's old companion Mel. "I travelled the stars with good old Sabalom Glitz," she tells the Doctor. "He lived till he was 101. ... He had this great big Viking funeral, and then I thought, time to go home. So I got a lift off a zingo and came back to Earth." (So that explains why she was on Earth to have a cameo in "The Power of the Doctor".) "But then I had to face up to the one thing I'd been running away from. I've got nothing. My family are all gone. Remember?" she adds, presumably referring to how she first met the Doctor -- something we don't actually know about, as you may recall. "But then Kate offered me a job, and... here I am." It's nice to see all these new and old faces together at UNIT, giving the Doctor a base to work from without needing to take time to establish his knowledge and credentials. UNIT itself is something of a callback, of course, but including Mel is also a good way of referring back to the past, of saying that, here during this anniversary, it's the entirety of the show that's being celebrated, not just series 4.

The Toymaker and the Doctor prepare to play a game. ("The Giggle")
©BBC

Of course, the bigger callback is the villain, played with gusto and delight by Neil Patrick Harris: the Toymaker, last seen on-screen in 1966, has finally returned. (The Doctor thinks that business with the salt last episode gave the Toymaker the opportunity to enter our reality, but we never quite get that confirmed.) It's something of a bold move, bringing back a character that only appeared once in a story that's now 75% missing³⁰², but that alternately means Davies has a bit more freedom with the character, because the audience won't have much of a fixed image in their minds, the way they do with, say, the Cybermen. And so the Toymaker places the laughing Stooky Bill in every screen ever, waiting for the moment the entire world has access to a screen in order to drive them mad, making them believe they're always right, so that they always win. "I made every opinion supreme. That's the game of the 21st century. They shout and they type and they cancel. So I fixed it. Now everybody wins." "And everyone loses," the Doctor points out. "The never-ending game," the Toymaker replies. To be honest, Stooky Bill giggling in every screen a really strange threat, with no explanation given as to how that actually works. It's a bit easier to swallow when you learn it's due to the Toymaker, who doesn't seem to be bound by our universe's rules, but even before that the Doctor states it like it's a plausible explanation, which is a bit more difficult to credit.³⁰³ But in some ways it doesn't matter; this is really about the Doctor versus the Toymaker. "I came to this universe with such delight," the Toymaker crows. "And I played them all, Doctor. I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spinning tops. I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box. I made a jigsaw out of your history. Did you like it? The Master was dying and begged for his life with one final game, and when he lost, I sealed him for all eternity inside my gold tooth." The Toymaker seems to delight in playing with the Doctor, taunting him and providing him with a labyrinth of corridors to become lost in. And so when the Doctor challenges the Toymaker to a game and then loses, the Toymaker seems delighted -- until the Doctor points out that that means the series is tied: "I won the game many years ago, you've won today, which leaves us equal." (I guess that means the unmade sixth Doctor story The Nightmare Fair, from the original, cancelled season 23, never happened.) So that means they're having one final confrontation ("Best of three") back in 2023.

In some ways this story is a massive cheat; it feels energetic and fun, but when you stop to think about it you realize not much actually happens. The Toymaker causes the world to go mad, sure, but when you come right down to it, the Doctor investigates the Toymaker back in 1925, loses a game, and then confronts him again in the present day. There's not much in the way of complications or twists (well, other than the big one, which I'll get to in a moment). So it's a credit to the writing, the direction, and the acting that it never really feels like that while you're watching. It's suitably creepy watching the Doctor discover a human turned into a puppet who then turns into a puppet version of the Doctor himself, and it's tremendously entertaining seeing Donna respond to getting attacked by a bunch of wooden dolls (Stooky Bill's family) by beating the hell out of the mother and terrifying the puppet children into submission. The scene where the Toymaker points out how traumatic the Doctor's life under Steven Moffat was (notice how every companion of the 11th and 12th Doctors shows up, while only the Flux gets mentioned from Chibnall's time) is a delight, and the moment where he dances around to the Spice Girls, turning bullets into rose petals and soldiers into balloons, is a wonder of direction and editing. It's a story where the flaws only really show up in hindsight; while you're watching it's easy to get sucked in, which is something Doctor Who has occasionally struggled with the last couple series.

David Tennant bigenerates into Ncuti Gatwa. ("The Giggle") ©BBC

But yes, the twist. The Toymaker has taken control of a big laser gun (all right, the Galvanic Beam) owned by UNIT and threatens UNIT with it. And after the Doctor tells the Toymaker that "your fight is with me", the Toymaker shoots the Beam straight through the Doctor. "I played the first game with one Doctor. I played the second game with this Doctor. Therefore, your own rules have decreed I play the third game with the next Doctor!" And as Donna and Mel rush to his side, we realize that this is it: the fourteenth Doctor is about to regenerate. His time is up, and as I watched this the first time I found myself wishing he could stay around for a little longer. But that's the nature of the show. "Here we go again," the Doctor says. "Allons-y!"

Except then... he doesn't. "Erm," the Doctor says, as the regeneration energy fades away, leaving the audience wondering what's going on. Then we get something completely mad, as the Doctor splits into both his old self and his new self, leaving both of them standing there, both very much alive. "Bigeneration!" the new Doctor exclaims. "I have bigenerated! There's no such thing. Bigeneration is supposed to be a myth, but... look at me!" Ncuti Gatwa emerges more or less fully-formed, and he's clearly having a blast as the Doctor, full of life and verve, literally dancing around. And so here, during the 60th celebration of the show, Davies gets to have his cake and eat it too, by having not just the brand-new Doctor arrive but letting the old one also stick around -- in other words, he gives the fourteenth Doctor a happy ending, one that isn't marked by his death. Is bigeneration sort of ridiculous? Sure, but I don't know that it's any more ridiculous than regeneration itself -- we've just had 57 more years to come to terms with that. This also means we do in fact get a bit of a multi-Doctor story for the 60th, just not in a way anyone really expected. It's bold and cheeky and I find I don't actually mind one bit.

And so after the Doctors defeat the Toymaker in a game of catch and banish him from the universe ("My legions are coming," he cries as he's flattened, folded up, and put into a box, similarly to how his toy store was folded up -- oh, and this is the part where I feel compelled to mention a hand picking up the gold tooth containing the Master, in a conscious echo of the picking up of the Master's ring from "Last of the Time Lords"), it gives us a chance to breathe, and, perhaps more importantly, for the fourteenth Doctor to be confronted by his new self:

DOCTOR 15: Our whole lifetime. That Doctor that first met the Toymaker never, ever stopped. Put on trial, exiled, Key to Time, all the devastation of Logopolis.
DOCTOR 14: Adric.
DOCTOR 15: Adric. River Song. All the people we lost. Sarah Jane has gone. Can you believe that for a second?
DOCTOR 14: I loved her.
DOCTOR 15: I loved her. And Rose. But the Time War, Pandorica, Mavic Chen. We fought the Gods of Ragnarok! And we didn't stop for a second, to say, what the hell?
DOCTOR 14: But you're fine.
DOCTOR 15: I'm fine because you fixed yourself. We're Time Lords. We're doing rehab out of order.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Giggle)

So we get a celebration, with the fifteenth Doctor creating a second TARDIS, thanks to the Toymaker ("We won the game. You get a prize, honey, and here is mine!" he exclaims, giving the TARDIS a big whack with a carnival hammer and creating a duplicate), and letting the fourteenth Doctor get the adventure he has yet to have: stopping and staying in one place and time (but with his own TARDIS to stop him from getting bored), to be part of a family. To grow roots. The show will continue with the fifteenth Doctor, but this is a way to give the departing fourteenth Doctor a happy ending, a place to call home after he not only lost Gallifrey but learned he didn't even know where his real home was. (And to make David Tennant available for cameos in the show's future, should he ever want to.) It's really sweet, seeing him as part of Donna's family, with other friends like Shirley and "mad Auntie Mel" also happily gathered around.

As I said, "The Giggle" isn't actually the most exciting episode in terms of plot, but it's presented with such zest that you hardly even notice, let alone mind. There's a sense of supreme confidence at work here, as if everyone involved knows this will be good and are giving it their all. It's wild, it's manic, and above all it's fun. "The Giggle" sees the show once again firing on all cylinders.

But then this whole set of specials has been like that. There's such an obvious joy to things: it's clear that David Tennant and Catherine Tate are thrilled to be back, and Russell T Davies is clearly enjoying giving them more adventures. These three episodes may not have been as overtly festive as, say, The Five Doctors, but there's still clear links to the past and a celebration of the entire history of the show, from Hartnell to Whittaker and beyond. (And it's interesting to note how much more comfortable Davies seems here with referencing the past than he did during his first tenure as showrunner, as if he can relax a bit now that the show is once again familiar and generally beloved (with most of it available for the curious on iPlayer).) Recasting a previous Doctor as the latest version could have gone badly wrong, a sign that the show was trying to play it safe or, worse, desperately trying to recapture its glory days, but they walk the line on this so well that part of you wonders how you could have ever doubted them in the first place. Plus, by giving Gatwa so much more to do in this episode than incoming Doctors normally get, it gives us a clear sign that the show is in safe hands and that the fifteenth Doctor will be worth watching just as much as the fourteenth. This may have been an anniversary and a chance to look back, but the future looks as bright as ever.

³⁰² Although since this episode aired they've released a surprisingly decent (given how poor it looks in still frames) animated reconstruction of the original story on Blu-ray and DVD.
³⁰³ The novelisation tries to account for this by saying all screens have either burn-in (for CRTs) or burned out pixels (for newer screens), and that's where Stooky Bill's image is. Not sure I buy that either, but it's more than the televised version provides.

September 26: "Wild Blue Yonder"

In the promotional material for these three specials, there was a lot made out of the fact that the first special was an adaptation of Doctor Who and the Star Beast, complete with photo-friendly aliens, while the third special played up the fact that Neil Patrick Harris was the main guest star. This second special, however, received comparatively little in the way of advance publicity, making it something of a mystery. It turns out that's because there's really not any special aliens or guest stars in this: it's basically a chamber piece, with just four characters -- and two of those characters are played by the other two actors. And yet despite the lack of flashiness, this might be the best of the three specials.

It's not completely guest-star-free, mind: we do get a cold open with Isaac Newton greeting his housekeeper Mrs. Merridew (played by Susan Twist -- this will become important next series) before going to contemplate the universe, only to find the TARDIS crashing into the apple tree he's sitting under. To Davies' credit, he at least has Newton come to his gravity realization before the Doctor arrives, but nevertheless the scene is rather silly and actually slightly at odds with the tone of the rest of the piece. The "mavity" "joke" is one thing³⁰¹, but the Doctor and Donna seem much cheerier about their situation here than when the episode actually starts.

But the main thrust of this episode is the Doctor and Donna, trapped on a spaceship at the edge of the universe while the TARDIS, mending itself after Donna's coffee spill, departs thanks to the Hostile Action Displacement System (another little callback to the show's past). There's a really great moment where the two of them start to tear into each other before the Doctor visibly pulls himself short and moves on, apologizing to Donna. I also like the part where Donna realizes what the HADS activating means: "There's something on this ship that's so bad the TARDIS ran away?" Donna asks. "Yes," the Doctor replies. "Then we go," Donna states, "and kick its arse!"

But despite Donna's proclamation, there's nothing immediately obvious threatening the pair of them. Instead, we're presented with a puzzle: a giant, seemingly abandoned spaceship out so far no stars are visible, with an unknown language occasionally speaking, an old robot moving very slowly, and the spaceship periodically rearranging itself. The ship was placed in shutdown, three years ago an airlock opened and closed, but otherwise there doesn't seem to be anyone there. However, during the Doctor's efforts to bring the ship back online (with an utterly delightful moment where, after Donna asks if the substance coating some rectangular circuit-board-like things is dangerous, the Doctor says, "No," tastes it, and starts to choke -- with the music swelling dramatically -- before revealing he's just faking it to an annoyed Donna), we start to see something strange: the Doctor seems to be in two places at once. But this isn't some sort of time travel scenario: instead it seems there are two doppelgangers on board, a Doctor and a Donna. "I don't know why, but the arms are so very difficult," the fake Doctor says, as his arms become unnaturally long, dragging along the floor.

The real and fake Doctors and Donnas encounter each other. ("Wild Blue
Yonder") ©BBC

And from that moment on, things shift and become first a form of body horror, with heavily distorted Doctor and Donna copies chasing the real thing down the long central corridor, and then a more psychological terror, as the Doctor and Donna become separated from each other, meaning they can't tell if they next meet the real version or the copy. The body horror is one type of terror, with distended limbs, bulging eyes, and joints not bending properly. But to me the psychological terror is more effective, because it's not just that these "not-things" (as they refer to themselves as at one point) look like the Doctor and Donna -- it's that they're copying their minds as well as their forms. This means they can't even do the usual "tell me something only you would know" trick, because the not-things know everything the real versions know. Davies not only takes this opportunity to increase the tension but also explicitly refer back to the events of the last two series:

DONNA: You don't know where you're from.
DOCTOR: How do you know that? How does anyone know? How does Donna know?
DONNA: Back on Earth, when I was the DoctorDonna, I saw your mind. I've had 15 years without you, and I saw everything that's happened to you since and, oh, my God, it hurt.
DOCTOR: You're saying this to break me down.
DONNA: We haven't stopped to talk. We haven't had a chance. It's always like that with you, running from one thing to the next. I saw it. In your head. The Flux.
DOCTOR: It destroyed half the universe because of me. We stand here now on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated. So, yes, I keep running. Of course I do. How am I supposed to look back on that?
(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - Wild Blue Yonder)

I'll be honest; I half-expected the Flux in particular to be just quietly forgotten, so it's nice to actually have it come up again, and to see that it actually did deeply affect the Doctor. The moment after he escapes from the not-Donna and then gives in to his anger for a moment, punching and kicking a wall and letting out an anguished scream, is a striking one, played to perfection by Tennant. But then both Tennant and Tate deserve kudos for playing both versions of their characters so well, pitching their copy performances at exactly the right level to be frightening without going too far.

It helps that this script is written so well. There's something compelling about a doppelganger story that you can't reason your way out of. It means the Doctor can't just outthink the not-things, because if he's thinking something then so is his copy. The Doctor tries to resort to trickery, such as with the salt superstition, but ultimately it becomes a matter not of outwitting the not-things at all, but simply working out what the captain of the ship did when she found the not-things were on her ship. We get a satisfying explanation for why the not-things are trying to scare the Doctor and Donna, and how the captain outwitted them: the not-things need things to be fast in order to copy them, so the captain deliberately set the ship to self-destruct very slowly, hoping the not-things wouldn't work out what was going on. The clues are there, and nothing about this feels arbitrary or a cheat. The worst you could say is that the Doctor and Donna don't really do much to stop the not-things; it's more just that they work out what the captain did and then make sure her plan is carried out. But that's not much of a complaint, and it's honestly one of Davies' tighter scripts, bringing to mind other standouts like "Midnight" or "Gridlock".

So it's well-written, it's superbly acted, it looks gorgeous for the most part -- with only a couple dodgy effects shots -- and, after a cryptic bit of foreshadowing ("I invoked a superstition at the edge of the universe, where the walls are thin and all things are possible. I've just got this feeling"), it's even got an appearance from Bernard Cribbins, making his final appearance as Wilfred Mott, filmed shortly before he died in 2022. What more could you want? It may not be the flashiest story ever, but the mood "Wild Blue Yonder" creates is more than enough to compensate. This is one to treasure.

Right, that's two-for-two so far. Can they go for a hat-trick?

³⁰¹ This bit gets more daft the more you think about it. First of all, the word "gravity" predates Newton's use, so it's not like he coined the word; he just coined that particular use of it. (The word comes from the Latin gravitas, or "weight" -- hence Donna's comment to Newton.) But moreover, while Newton used the word to define the physical property, there are earlier uses that convey a similar meaning, so the word isn't completely novel. So for Newton to think the word is "mavity" -- something that has no likely antecedent in Latin, Greek, or, say, French -- instead of a word he's likely already familiar with, albeit in a slightly different context, is absurd. (And unfortunately, this is going to turn into something of a running gag even beyond the handful of times it happens in this episode.)

September 25: "The Star Beast"

And now here we are, 25 November 2023, 40 years to the day after The Five Doctors aired (and two days after the actual anniversary), for the first of three 60th Anniversary specials. And, somewhat unusually, this anniversary actually marks the start of a brand-new production team. Well, sort of. Chibnall has left as showrunner, and in his place Russell T Davies has returned, along with some old friends, such as Phil Collinson and Julie Gardner behind-the-scenes, Rachel Talalay directing, Murray Gold back to do the music, and, most obviously, David Tennant and Catherine Tate in front of the camera, at least for a short while. (And I'd love to learn the story one day about just how and why Davies came back. Did he suggest it? Did the BBC suggest it?) So a new-old cast and crew and, befitting the show's diamond anniversary, the return of the diamond logo from 1974-1979. Oh! But there is one big difference: Disney has acquired the worldwide rights to broadcast the show on their streaming service in exchange for providing some extra money for the show's production, meaning things can look a bit more expensive than they had.

Not that you'd know it from the opening scene, mind. Presumably they want to catch people up quickly, but the "story so far" stuff, with the Doctor and Donna each talking directly to the camera, not only feels awfully clunky but also looks a bit cheap: it's very clear that David Tennant is standing in front of a greenscreen, for instance. Fortunately, however, this proves to be the exception; once that's over we launch into the brand-new title sequence (sort of reminiscent of the first Matt Smith sequence, combined with the "vortex travelling" effect from Whittaker's time), with a new theme tune arrangment (I like the piano, but I don't know that I care for the grunting/huffing sounds), and then we get a lovely crane shot to start the episode proper. It takes no time at all for the fourteenth Doctor to encounter Donna again, with a bit of fun comedy, but for now, at least, Donna doesn't remember the Doctor. However, this still sets up one of the main threads of "The Star Beast": Davies is finally going to deal with the ramifications of the DoctorDonna from the end of series 4, and which he sidestepped in The End of Time.

But lest you think this anniversary is only going to deal with more recent Who history (Whostory? No, no, pretend I never said that), there's a subtler return to the past here: "The Star Beast" is an adaptation of a Doctor Who Weekly comic strip from 1980 with the fourth Doctor. Obviously a number of the details have changed, but the basic thrust of the story, with the Meep being pursued by the Wrarth Warriors, is the same. It's a story that translates very well to the screen, with lots of action and a great twist. And the design of both the Meep and the Wrarth is impressively close to their comic counterparts. There's a behind-the-scenes video of original creators Pat Mills and John Wagner pleased with the finished products, and justifiably so.

Davies does a great job of weaving these two plotlines together, as the Doctor keeps finding himself drawn ever closer to Donna and her family, from the initial encounter with Donna and her daughter Rose to taking a cab being driven by Donna's husband Shaun. However, they do a good job of balancing the potential tragedy with more comedic moments. The interactions with the Doctor and Shaun are wonderful -- I really like the moment where the Doctor claims he's a Grand Master of the Knowledge. "That says Grand Mistress," Shaun replies, looking at the Doctor's psychic paper. "Oh, catch up," the Doctor grumbles, smacking the paper against the cab. And the stuff where the Doctor knows things about Donna because he claims he's friends with Nerys is also great fun. Then there are the protestations of Sylvia that there are no such things as aliens and spaceships, becoming increasingly desperate as evidence to the contrary appears in the Noble household. Or the way the Doctor thinks Wilf has died, before being informed he's simply in sheltered accomodation because he's 94. It's such a joy to watch and it reminds you just how good a writer Davies is.

And we should also take a moment to talk about Rose, Donna's daughter, who's shown to be trans. It's a good move to both increase trans visibility on TV and to do so in a way that doesn't make a big deal of it but equally doesn't minimize it. It's handled very well, and Yasmin Finney is wonderful as Rose, being likable and real. Here she's just more or less an ordinary teenage girl (at least until the end of the episode), which goes a long way toward showing us that trans people are just that -- people, just as much as cisgender people are, and nothing to be fearful of or hateful toward. More like this, please.

I also love the interactions with the Doctor and Shirley Anne Bingham, UNIT's current scientific advisor. Shirley is supremely self-assured but not in an unlikable way, and she and the Doctor have a delightfully spiky-yet-respectful rapport right off the bat. I also like the way neither is particularly surprised by the other: no "who are you" or other complications, which also makes Shirley seem very perceptive. The Doctor also seems very comfortable talking to her, giving us some exposition along the way:

SHIRLEY: You got your old face back?
DOCTOR: Yep.
SHIRLEY: But why?
DOCTOR: Well, that's what I'm worried about. Because I've got this friend called Donna Noble, and she was my best friend in the whole wide universe. ... But Donna took the mind of a Time Lord into her head. I had to wipe her memory to save her life. If she ever remembers me, she will die. So what happens next? I get this face back and the TARDIS lands right next to her. I turn around, there's her husband, then a spaceship crashes right in front of her. It's like she's drawing us in.
SHIRLEY: What, she's making it happen?
DOCTOR: No, she's got no idea. She's so ordinary, she's brilliant. She's got this beautiful daughter. She's happy. Is she? And now the universe is turning around her again. I don't believe in destiny, but if destiny exists, then it is heading for Donna Noble right now.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Star Beast)

But where "The Star Beast" really excels is in the energy it has. There's a vitality present that was perhaps a bit lacking during the last season, despite all the rushing around. Perhaps it's because the story is straightforward enough to follow and the stakes are more relatable. We're not dealing with the fate of the entire universe or the opaque machinations of the Ravagers or trying to follow the Master's latest incredibly convoluted plan. Instead we're focused on the fate of one person (all right, and eventually the entirety of London, but even when that happens it seems secondary to Donna), and an easy-to-follow storyline. That's not to say the story is simplistic or anything like that; the big twist that the cute cuddly Meep is actually evil and vicious is handled deftly, neither coming out of nowhere nor telegraphed way too soon. In fact, while people familiar with the original story knew the twist ahead of time (it is a pretty well-known story in terms of Doctor Who comics), that in no way lessens its impact. This is a story that is easy enough to follow but still respects its audience, trusting they'll put the pieces together at the right moment without needing to throw a bunch of extra stuff at them to distract them.

And of course, while the Meep is turning evil, Donna is slowly remembering the Doctor. This is where Davies really ties the two plot threads together, putting the Doctor in an impossible position where he can save London but at the cost of Donna's life. "All that coincidence was heading here, to save London from burning," the Doctor says. "Because you and I can stop this ship. Together. But it will kill you." David Tennant gives a tour de force performance here, wracked with grief but knowing he has no choice, while Catherine Tate more than holds her own, pleading with him to sacrifice her one life for the millions of other lives in London, including her daughter's. And so the Doctor unlocks Donna's mind, allowing her to become the DoctorDonna once more, so that she can stop the Meep. (And interestingly, Murray Gold quotes the eleventh Doctor's theme ("I am the Doctor") during this sequence, rather than one of the series 4 themes.) But this is an anniversary story, a celebration, so it would be churlish to start on a tragic note -- which means that Donna in fact survives, having passed part of the metacrisis energy on to her daughter. Is it a bit of a cop-out? Maybe (and the way they hand-wave it away at the end -- "We choose to let it go" -- doesn't help their case much), but I find I don't mind. It's nice to have Donna back, ready to travel with the Doctor one final time, and able to step inside the TARDIS once more.

Now since we have a new incarnation of the Doctor and a new production team, we also get a brand-new console room. This one is a bit of a throwback to the 20th-century model, only scaled up. It's gleaming white (but with color-changing mood lighting as needed) but with multiple levels and ramps for the Doctor to gleefully run around. There's something nice about having the old white look back; it's visually striking and it's a good contrast to the thirteenth Doctor's moodily-lit crystal console room. Plus the sheer size comes across here in a way that was never quite true of the previous version. And the roundels are back! This is a good blend of old and new, perfect for the 60th anniversary and beyond. Even if Donna also immediately blows the place up by accidentally spilling coffee in the console -- but that's a story for next time.

"The Star Beast" is one of those stories that is so much fun that even when it doesn't completely hold up, the end result is more than enough to power through any lesser moments. It's a joy to see David Tennant back as the Doctor and Catherine Tate back as Donna, even if it's only for a short while, and not just as a nostalgia exercise but instead as the next chapter in the story. Ultimately this first special is a celebration of the things that people love about the show: a fun adventure with enough pathos to keep the viewer engaged. "The Star Beast" feels like both a look back and a declaration of how things will be going forward. It strikes the perfect balance between the two, and it demonstrates that even after 60 years there's still plenty of life in the show.

September 24, 2024: Tales of the TARDIS / Children in Need Special 2023

It's been over a year since "The Power of the Doctor" aired, but now the 60th anniversary is fast approaching. (And, incidentally, since my last post I've somehow passed the 10th anniversary of the start of this blog. Anniversaries all around!) As we learned at the end of the previous episode, the incoming fourteenth Doctor somehow looks like a slightly older version of the tenth Doctor, and it's been made fairly clear that the 60th anniversary specials will be focused on David Tennant and (unlike the 50th anniversary special) won't be another multi-Doctor story. But that doesn't mean we can't have other Doctors. And so, in order to celebrate the arrival of nearly the full run of the 20th-century version of the show to iPlayer, the production team created six short scenes involving old Doctors and companions to serve as introductions and conclusions to six of those stories, edited into single-episode form, and released them under the umbrella title of Tales of the TARDIS.

The setting for these scenes are all in a "remembered TARDIS", a hodge-podge of various TARDIS bits jammed haphazardly together, along with items from past adventures generally strewn about everywhere. In each of these segments we're introduced to older versions of a pair of people (Doctor/companion for three of them, and two companions for the other three) who take the opportunity to tell each other the story of one of their adventures -- in other words, to introduce the edited version of the classic story in question. In this regard it's a lot like the Lockdown "season" in 2020, only this time the focus is on the 20th-century run instead of the 21st-century stories. Plus, the nature of this remembered TARDIS is that we can meet up with people who've left the Doctor and see what happened next, without needing to worry about visiting their times and places. And much like how this TARDIS is jumbled together, with Doctors and companions from all over the universe, so too is there no specific, chronological order to the stories we're presented.

Instead we start with the fifth Doctor and Tegan, encountering each other and commenting on how old they look -- in Tegan's case due to aging, in the Doctor's case possibly due to the nature of the remembered TARDIS (or possibly something to do with timestreams, according to the seventh Doctor in the final segment of these six) -- before encouraging each other to remember Adric's final adventures against the Cybermen (in other words, Earthshock). And if that was all these did, that would be rather sweet, but instead they've decided to push things a little bit. In this case, Tegan points out the nature of the show back then and how they never really stopped to grieve: "He died, we sailed on, we had more adventures. We never stopped. We never stopped to think!" "That's because of me," the Doctor says a bit ruefully. "I never stop to think." The nature of the segment means it can't do more than just observe these issues, but it's still a nice acknowledgment. If there's any real quibble to be had here, it's that this reunion has slightly less impact, since we just saw something similar in the last episode. (Well, that, and the slightly odd suggestion that not only does Tegan live with Nyssa, but that she sleeps in jeans and a dressy button-down blouse. Assuming that's what that line of dialogue means, that is; it's a bit hard to work out the actual intent of the line. But I digress.) But it's still nice to see the fifth Doctor and Tegan again.

The next four segments provide various means of catching up. We meet Jamie and Zoe as they remember the events of The Mind Robber, where not only are their memories of the Doctor and their adventures permanently restored post-The War Games (and you can just picture writer Pete McTighe gleefully righting this wrong, 54 years later) but we learn that Jamie is a grandfather and Zoe is a President (of what specifically, we don't know), both making the Doctor proud in their own way. Then it's time for the sixth Doctor (in a tasteful tan and burgundy ensemble instead of the multicoloured patchwork outfit) and Peri to encounter each other. "The warrior queen!" the Doctor exclaims. "You got old," Peri remarks. "And bigger. And beardier!" he replies. "Time marches on, Peri, even for a Time Lord. It really has no respect." Perhaps the most striking thing about this segment is, for those who only know the sixth Doctor from his TV stories, how much softer Colin Baker's portrayal here is. For those of us who've grown accustomed to Baker's performance on his Big Finish audios over the years this makes perfect sense, but I wonder how jarring it is for that viewer who's making their way through the content on iPlayer. But in any event, it's still great fun to see the two of them interact together, with a sense of wonder and adventure that was occasionally lacking back during season 22.

After that we get Jo Jones (née Grant) meeting up with Clyde Langer from the Sarah Jane Adventures, in a pairing first seen in the Sarah Jane Adventures story Death of the Doctor, so that Jo can tell Clyde about the time she met three Doctors in, er, The Three Doctors. ("Well, no, actually, two and a bit," Jo says.) The perhaps surprising thing in this segment is that we learn Clyde hasn't actually told Rani how he feels about her -- surprising because, as Jo notes here, "I saw it every time the two of you were together." But it seems like Jo gets through to Clyde when she implores him to tell Rani. And then there's the sweet way Jo is reunited with her husband Cliff after he had passed away, thanks to this memory TARDIS.

The next segment has us revisit the first Doctor era, as Steven and Vicki return to remember The Time Meddler. We get to see Steven is still the ruler of the planet of the Elders ("I did become a king, you know," he tells Vicki), while Vicki and Troilus are happily married, Troilus having survived the fall of Troy after all. It's really lovely to see Peter Purves and Maureen O'Brien slip back into their characters, and the way Steven calls Vicki his little sister is nicely touching.

The final one of these Tales of the TARDIS features the seventh Doctor and Ace, recalling The Curse of Fenric. In some way this is the most interesting of these six Tales because it carries on the brief conversation between the two that happened in "The Power of the Doctor". There Ace told the Doctor she hadn't understood the burden he carried; here the Doctor apologizes more directly: "I did things I'm not proud of. I used you, manipulated you, kept secrets. No wonder you abandoned ship." We also learn that Ace left after an adventure fighting the Rani, with the Doctor accidentally dropping her off in London, Ontario, instead of London, England. It's clear that these two still have affection for each other, with both having had time to reflect over their falling-out, and while ending with a quotation from the end of Survival might perhaps be a bit obvious, it's also a nice send-off for these little segments: the Doctor and Ace, once again fighting injustice in the TARDIS.

Tales of the TARDIS isn't a huge, important story; it's just a way to spend a bit more time with some beloved characters while also remembering some of the stories that made them beloved in the first place. But it's genuinely a delight to have these moments here at the 60th anniversary -- and if they get to address some unfinished business and tie up a couple loose ends along the way, so much the better.

But now it's time to leave the past and turn to the future -- even if that future curiously looks like the past. It's time for the fourteenth Doctor to make his debut, and, much how David Tennant first appeared in a short Children in Need scene back in 2005 as the tenth Doctor, so too does he do the same thing here as the fourteenth Doctor in 2023's edition of Children in Need. Officially, this special is just called "Children in Need Special 2023" (or slight variations thereof), but writer Russell T Davies called it "Destination: Skaro" in an Instagram post, which is as good a name for this as anything. As with the other Children in Need specials, this isn't meant to be anything too crazy or intense: instead, we observe Davros at the creation of the Daleks. It's so early, in fact, that Davros here isn't confined to his Dalek-like chair, instead appearing as a rather hunched-over scientist (although he's once again played by Julian Bleach, in a nice bit of continuity). Supposedly Davies made this change to Davros because he didn't want to perpetuate the stereotype of disabled people being evil (something I must confess I never considered, having thought about his condition entirely in relation to the look of the Daleks themselves -- but perhaps that's my privilege showing), but it does push the creation of the Daleks back relative to Davros's accident and lead to all sorts of puzzles for fans trying to work these sorts of things out.

But that's a lot of continuity weight to put on something that's meant to be quite slight. The scene is mainly about Davros's assistant, Castavillian, trying to come up with a good name for the Mark III travel machine, one that's an anagram of "Kaled". (Which probably therefore also plays havoc with Dalek history versus how we see things play out in Genesis of the Daleks, but never mind.) As Castavillian contemplates different possible names, the TARDIS smashes into reality from the vortex, embedding itself into the wall and shearing off the Mark III's multi-dextrous claw. And then David Tennant appears as if he'd never been away: "Hello! Just passing by, 'cos I got a bit lost. It's funny, sixty minutes ago I was this really brilliant woman, and now I've got this old face back again. I mean, why? 'Why?' I ask of you, my brand-new friend. Why?" But it's when he realizes he smashed into a Dalek, and that he's there at the very beginning of the Daleks, that he begins to panic slightly. "Look, I was never, ever here. Never!" he says as he realizes the bootstrap paradox he's creating, referring to the Mark III as a Dalek and using the word "exterminate". And apparently the Doctor is responsible for the iconic Dalek plunger arm, as he literally takes a plunger and jams it into the socket where the claw had been, in an effort to fix the Dalek before Davros comes back. "Never here," the Doctor says as he departs. Fortunately for Castavillian, when Davros does come back and see it, he decides he likes the plunger.

"Destination: Skaro" is a fun little chance to see David Tennant as the Doctor once more before he makes his full-length debut. As long as you don't think about it too hard -- and you ignore the genuinely appalling "funny" score that may be some of the worst music in the entire series -- then this is a nice little teaser before the main event.

But now the main event has arrived: it's time for the first of the 60th anniversary specials -- "The Star Beast"...