An Hour of Who a Day

July 21: "The Girl Who Died"

Stuart Manning's poster for "The Girl Who
Died" (from Incredible set of retro Doctor
Who series 9 posters)

Oh look, Vikings (with anachronistic helmets again), here to capture the Doctor and Clara for some reason!

After two outstanding outings last series, Jamie Mathieson here returns with a tale of Vikings being raided by aliens and challenging those aliens to a war they can't win. I do note that this is credited as being co-written by Steven Moffat, which means he contributed a reasonable amount to the script.

I wonder if that's why this episode frequently feels so uneven.

It's not that this is a drama with some jokes thrown in, or a comedy with occasionally heavier moments; instead it seems to shift between the two styles from scene to scene, with (for instance) a quiet dramatic scene of the Doctor telling Clara what the baby is saying followed up by a silly training scene with silly names and jokes about blood. None of this, by the way, is to meant to accuse "The Girl Who Died" of being unenjoyable -- because that's definitely not the case -- but rather that the constant swinging back and forth between drama and comedy is rather noticeable, and it does ultimately give things a rather lightweight feel.

The thing that manages to anchor this story, to stop it from falling between two stools, is the performances. Peter Capaldi does an outstanding job, balancing the sillier aspects ("He hasn't even got a yo-yo!") with the more somber ones ("Do babies dies with honour?") in a way that makes it all feel like the same characterization. Jenna Coleman continues to do well, reminding the Doctor that some things should be fought for, and while Maisie Williams as Ashildr doesn't have too much to do (she's essentially just here to be the wide-eyed young girl with more of a gift for storytelling than anything more practical), she does a good job with the material she's given. And even smaller performances, like Tom Stourton's Lofty, are well judged -- no one's veering too far into sending it all up. This is reinforced by some of the conversations between people, such as the Doctor and Ashildr in her home ("Because if you make up the right story, then you think it will keep them safe and they'll all come home"), or, in particular, between the Doctor and Clara:

CLARA: I keep waiting to hear what your real plan is.
DOCTOR: Teaching them to fight, that's the only plan I've got.
CLARA: Turning them into fighters? That's not like you.
DOCTOR: Yeah. I used to believe that too.
CLARA: What happened?
DOCTOR: You. Oh, Clara Oswald, what have I made of you?

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Girl Who Died)

It's a nice little look into the idea of Clara becoming more accustomed to danger, more willing to behave like the Doctor, and whether or not that's a good thing. And these are the sorts of scenes that maintain interest through some of the more uneven moments.

"Odin" and the Mire teleport down. ("The Girl Who Died") ©BBC

It also helps that the Mire are a neat design, looking like giant walking tank things, all scuffed up and scored metal and things. I dunno, they just look so ungainly that seeing them move is a pleasant surprise, with not nearly as much clunkiness as one might have guessed. And the idea that they're leeching off of warrior races, convincing them they're gods, isn't too bad either. David Schofield is a fun villain in Odin, chewing up the scenery (although he's probably the closest this story gets to tipping into camp). And the way the Mire are defeated is fairly clever, and the bit with the recording is rather wonderful.

I do question everything after the natural resolution of the storyline, with the Doctor realizing why he looks like Caecilius from "The Fires of Pompeii" (it's so he won't forget to help people) -- again, I'm not convinced anyone besides Steven Moffat was actually worried about this in the first place (after all, did people demand an explanation for why the sixth Doctor looked like Maxil from Arc of Infinity? And none of this explains why both Caecilius and the twelfth Doctor look like John Frobisher from Torchwood: Children of Earth...), and this seems like a rather perfunctory explanation anyway. Especially since it smacks rather of the whole "Time Lord Victorious" speech from "The Waters of Mars" (and the Doctor's already seen how well that worked out). In short, this is just a clumsy way to get the Doctor to make Ashildr immortal, so that she can show up in later episodes without having to go back to the 9th century every time. Oh, and another mention of something being a "hybrid", this apparently being the keyword for series 9's arc (well, sort of, but we'll discuss this plot thread's nonresolution when we get to "Hell Bent"). And is it just me, or does Ashildr look rather cruel in that final shot (when the spinning thing finally ends)? Deliberate foreshadowing, perhaps?

So I dunno. There're a lot of good things happening in "The Girl Who Died", but that underlying unevenness does mean that this ends up feeling lightweight -- it's not funny enough to be a comedy episode, but it's not tense or thrilling enough to be a proper drama. It's not bad by any means, but this inability to settle on a style does mean that this ends up being one of the less memorable episodes of series 9. Another entry for the "pleasant but forgettably average" list of Doctor Who episodes.

July 20: "Before the Flood"

Stuart Manning's poster for "Before the Flood"
(from Doctor Who: exclusive Under the Lake
and Before the Flood posters revealed)

Definitely an unusual start to an episode, this, with the Doctor breaking the fourth wall to tell the audience about the bootstrap paradox. (Has that happened since Hartnell's speech in The Daleks' Master Plan?) It's a sign of a show willing to experiment -- right down to having the main character (appear to) play electric guitar over the main title theme. Even after 52 years, Doctor Who is still willing to try new things.

It's also worth noting how quickly "Before the Flood" dispenses with the base-under-siege narrative established in the first half of this story. Even the parts that still take place in the base don't have the same vibe to them; this is no longer a story about being attacked by ghosts, but about what the Doctor can do in the past to avoid having everyone else be killed. It's about planning and forethought rather than desperation and improvising.

This means that we get a peek back into what the village was like before the dam burst, back in 1980 -- and the Doctor's brought along two of the base crew, O'Donnell and Bennett. "So, [this is] pre-Harold Saxon," O'Donnell says. "Pre-the Minister of War, pre-the moon exploding and a big bat coming out." "The Minister of War?" the Doctor asks. "No, never mind, I expect I'll find out soon enough." So there's a bit of a tease for the future that to date hasn't been followed up on. O'Donnell is quite likeable, all gung ho about the Doctor and travelling in the TARDIS -- so of course she's slated to die.

But before that there's the encounter with Prentis the Tivolian undertaker (with the incredibly cheeky gag on his business card, "May the remorse be with you"), as we learn that the source of the ghosts is the "body" he's transporting, the Fisher King, who once ruled over the Tivoli. (You may remember a Tivoli as the cowardly alien from "The God Complex".) It seems the Fisher King isn't as dead as Prentis was led to believe, as he starts killing people in order to use them as transmitters to tell others where he is. This is why Prentis is killed, and why O'Donnell follows soon after. This gives Whithouse an opportunity to once again have a character accuse the Doctor of being uncaring or less-than-good: "That list your ghost was saying, that's the order in which people are going to die, isn't it?" Bennett says. "I mean, I've only just figured that out. But you knew that all along, didn't you?" "I thought perhaps, because her ghost wasn't there in the future, like Prentis's was, I thought maybe, maybe it wouldn't happen," the Doctor replies. "Maybe she stood a chance." "Yeah, but you didn't try very hard to stop her, though, did you?" says Bennett, unmollified. "It was almost like you wanted to test your theory. So who's next?" "Clara," says the Doctor. "Yeah. Yeah. Except now you're going to do something about it, aren't you?" It seems Whithouse just can't resist the urge to question the Doctor's character and the nature of what he does, even in a story like this where it doesn't quite fit in.

The Fisher King goes to investigate his ship. ("Before the
Flood") ©BBC

It's curious, in retrospect, how straightforward this episode is though. Despite a bit of extra time-travel shenanigans (which don't ultimately serve any purpose) and the "phoning across time zones" bit, once the Doctor discovers that the source of the markings in the spaceship is the Fisher King, he sets up his plan to stop the King with very little fuss. And while the Fisher King is suitably impressive, towering over the not-exactly-short Peter Capaldi, he doesn't really get much to do -- a speech about the Time Lords and how he'll rule the universe, and then he gets swept up by the flood waters. The complications we do get are in the future, with the ghosts stealing Clara's phone and them trying to get it back, and while they are entertaining complications (the stuff with Cass and Moran trailing after her is nicely done), they don't ultimately matter either -- the Doctor doesn't try to call back, for instance.

But, being straightforward isn't the worst of sins by any means, and what we do get is well done. There's hardly a foot put wrong (about the only real complaint I have is the aggressive color grading, which is particularly noticeable in the 1980 scenes, trying to make everything grey and dreary -- but it's still not as egregious here as it was in "Death in Heaven" and its graveyard scenes, and this seems to be the current style anyway, so they're just following the trend), and there are enough clever moments in this story to be worthwhile. The air that these two episodes give off is one of confidence; the production team is so comfortable with what they're doing that even a matter-of-fact resolution like this is done with energy and style, and they're confident enough in their audience to provide an opening like in "Before the Flood", with a deliberate paradox to leave them thinking at the end. "Under the Lake" / "Before the Flood" isn't a knockout story, but it is very good at what it sets out to do.

July 19: "Under the Lake"

Stuart Manning's poster for "Under the Lake"
(from Doctor Who: exclusive Under the Lake
and Before the Flood posters revealed)

Hey, a good old-fashioned base-under-siege tale! We haven't had one of those since, ooh, "The Time of the Doctor"? Or maybe "Mummy on the Orient Express", depending on your definition? Perhaps "Nightmare in Silver"?

OK, so maybe there've been a number of base-under-siege tales recently. But this one feels a bit special because it's actually an underwater base, rather than just a confined area. So we get lots of lovely corridors to run down and rooms to hide inside, with a small, shrinking cast being attacked by what seems to be ghosts. Although, in a bit of a twist, once the ghosts kill you you become one of said murderous ghosts, which in some ways is more frightening.

Fabulous job on the ghosts, by the way; the missing eyes and hollow skull are really effectively creepy -- a nice combination of practical and CG effects. The slight shimmer they have when they move is also well done. Oh, and if we're praising design choices...the largely empty spaceship is striking in its minimalism (and do I detect a hint of Quatermass and the Pit in the design?), and as I noted above, the base set really is a fabulous, sturdy-looking set. Plus (exciting, this) we get our first proper look at the newly-added roundels to the TARDIS interior (after some brief glimpses in the last two-parter).

So "Under the Lake" looks gorgeous, and it's also well cast, with everyone giving their all and providing some extra nuances for each character (even Steven Robertson, in the rather thankless role of company man Pritchard). My favorite might be the paring between Zaqi Ismail as Lunn and Sophie Stone as Cass, though; there's a real affection there that's obvious from the get-go. (And speaking of Cass, Sophie Stone is the first deaf actor given a role on Doctor Who.) Not convinced about the "I've deleted sign language" joke though -- obviously this is so everyone else can understand what Cass is saying, but it does seem like a bizarre suggestion in terms of in-universe continuity. (So he can delete languages now? Why would he need to? Isn't it all part of the TARDIS's built-in telepathic language translator? The underlying suggestion seems to be that sign language isn't really like spoken language, which isn't true; beyond replacing the verbal component with a manual one (literally manual, as in "hands"), sign languages obey all the rules of language and grammar. In other words, despite their best efforts, this is ever-so-slightly condescending toward signers.²⁶⁴)

The ghostly Moran reaches inside the Doctor. ("Under the
Lake") ©BBC

The other major thing in "Under the Lake"'s favor is that it's not only great to look at, but it's smartly written too. There's a sense of cleverness in the script, as it sets up the transmitter idea without bringing attention to it until the proper moment (as with Lunn being safe from Pritchard's ghost because he hadn't seen the symbols), and there's also the way Toby Whithouse delights in observing several of the ghost clichés (they're translucent, they can walk through walls (and apparently don't need to obey the laws of gravity, based on a couple shots), they only come out at night (which may not strictly be an actual cliché, but it still helps with the atmosphere of the story)), with even the Doctor at a loss to explain, concluding that they must therefore be ghosts. Great care is taken to build up the atmosphere of faint dread, with occasional bouts of panic (unexpectedly switching to night mode) to help punctuate the mood. The stuff with leading the ghosts to the Faraday cage is a fun part, and the Doctor's confrontation with them is pleasingly cheeky. Speaking of which, this version of the Doctor's cluelessness about human emotions and customs is perhaps the best yet, with his genuinely not realizing he's being upsetting, and needing literal cue cards to properly convey the necessary platitudes; we're light-years ahead of the insulting Doctor early last series. And here in this episode we also get our first look at the character arc for Clara this series: that of being perhaps a bit too reckless, possibly as a way to fill the void left by the loss of Danny Pink. And while it's brought up, it's not dwelt on too much, which is a good move.

Clever cliffhanger, by the way; after the Doctor decides to travel back in time to see what started all this ghost business (which is a novel way to break out of the "base-under-siege" format), we suddenly get a ghost version of the Doctor, out in the lake. Suitably creepy, and it makes you look forward to what's next...

²⁶⁴ Fun fact to counteract that bit of crankiness: when the Doctor says he can speak sign, as he says to her "Go ahead" he actually signs "You're beautiful", which explains Cass's slightly surprised reaction.

July 18: "The Witch's Familiar"

Stuart Manning's poster for "The Witch's
Familiar" (from Doctor Who: exclusive The
Witch's Familiar Poster revealed)

Gosh, I made it all the way through the last episode's discussion without mentioning all the gorgeous old-school Daleks on display here, finally making good on the promise that "Asylum of the Daleks" largely relegated to the background in 2012. And it's absolutely wonderful to see the original Daleks so prominently here (although, while I know the blue bumps are correct, is the pale blue midsection?), and another chance to see my personal favorite, the Special Weapons Dalek from Remembrance of the Daleks. We also get a bunch of the bronze versions and the Supreme Dalek from "The Stolen Earth" / "Journey's End". (That's the third "Stolen Earth" callback -- is there a theme here?) And look, an 80s-style Dalek in the background, and even an Emperor's Guard Dalek from The Evil of the Daleks. (Although -- nitpicking here -- it should have the "solar panel" slats around its midsection. Doctor Who fans: never satisfied, huh?) Although -- curious omission, this -- there's not a single New Paradigm Dalek (the fat iPhone Daleks) to be seen.

And while "kisses to the past" like the old Daleks or the look of the Dalek city (both inside and out) are thrilling bits, this is nevertheless a story that's looking forward as it looks back. There're some marvellous moments involving Missy and Clara, as Missy explains how she saved them thanks to the vortex manipulators and power conversion (complete with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it callback to Missy's "death" in "Death in Heaven" -- guess that did get explained after all) and then takes her into the Dalek sewers, all combined with moments that make it crystal clear that, despite the fact that she and Clara are temporarily on the same side, the current Master is completely insane and casually callous -- she has no qualms, for instance, in pushing Clara down a hole to see how deep it is. Plus there's the moment where Missy empties a Dalek shell and then forces Clara inside, with an interesting discussion of how Clara's thoughts are translated into Dalek, as expressed emotions are translated into "EX-TER-MI-NATE!" "Cybermen suppress emotion," Missy tells Clara, "Daleks channel it through a gun. That's why they keep yelling 'exterminate' -- it's how they reload."

The Doctor offers Davros a touch of regeneration energy.
("The Witch's Familiar") ©BBC

But the meat of this episode is the conversation between the Doctor and Davros -- yes, there's the moment where the Doctor pulls Davros out of his chair and threatens all the other Daleks unless they bring Clara Oswald back (bit tricky, that, as they think they've killed her), but this once again comes down to two people in a room talking. What's impressive about this is watching Davros as he puts his plan in motion, to get the Doctor trapped in all the cables by Colony Sarff while Davros drains his regenerative energy. It starts out simple, with Davros just trying to get the Doctor to touch the cables, allegedly to kill all the Daleks, but then Davros works out that the Doctor's weakness is compassion, and so he changes tactics, trying to make the Doctor feel sorry for a dying old man. This includes the moment where Davros decides to open his real eyes instead of just using the electronic one in his forehead; there's something endearingly cheeky about the idea that Davros hasn't lost his real eyes but simply hasn't opened them in all this time, and Julian Bleach gives a great performance of an old man who just wants to see a sunrise -- which is doubly impressive when you see how this is just Davros being manipulative, trying to get the Doctor to give up that sweet sweet regenerative energy. "I thought I would have to tear you apart to take it from you," Davros says, "but, as always, your compassion is your downfall."

It's worth noting how different the Doctor is here with Davros compared with how he was with the Half-Face Man a year ago in "Deep Breath". That Doctor seemed much sterner, much less inclined toward mercy and compassion -- but here it's an innate part of his character, as he's willing to listen to Davros, to sympathize with him a bit, and to show him mercy. This, combined with the party scenes in the previous episode, suggests a Doctor who seems much more comfortable with himself; it's as if his moment of revelation in "Death in Heaven" ("I. Am. An idiot!") helped him reconcile whatever personal demons he was wrestling with through series 8, and now we see the after-effects. It's an interesting contrast.

Ultimately, the way the situation is resolved (all the Daleks are regenerating, including the dying and discarded ones) is somewhat clever, in that they've at least set it up properly ahead of time, and the way Missy tries to get the Doctor to kill the Dalek with Clara inside is interesting as well, but this story ultimately comes down to the discussion between two old enemies, and at that it's a great success. And the resolution, where the Doctor ultimately rescues the young Davros and helps ensure not only Clara's survival but also Davros's views on compassion and mercy, is a nice moment. And I don't even mind the sonic sunglasses the way a lot of others seemed to. This is a strong two-parter, hitting all the right notes but not being too showy about it.

July 17, 2016: "Prologue" / "The Doctor's Meditation" / "The Magician's Apprentice"

Hi there, welcome back! Hopefully you had a good year. We're back for a couple of weeks in order to tackle series 9 of Doctor Who, starting with the two prequel scenes that accompanied "The Magician's Apprentice" -- a reasonable idea to build anticipation for the upcoming episodes, since it has been nine months since "Last Christmas". So let's get started, shall we?

The first scene, simply entitled "Prologue", is a somber affair, with the Doctor on Karn, apparently avoiding someone. "He has asked to see you," says Ohila, the member of the Sisterhood of Karn last seen at Paul McGann's regeneration in "The Night of the Doctor". It becomes clear that the Doctor has done something wrong, and the item he hands Ohila is obviously something of great importance, and he knows that he has to make up for it somehow. "You are embarking on an enterprise that will end in your destruction," Ohila warns him. "You could say that about being born," the Doctor jokes bleakly. But no, it's time to go face the music.

But not quite yet. Our next prequel, "The Doctor's Meditation" (which was initially released as a special teaser accompanying the 3D theatrical screening of "Dark Water" / "Death in Heaven" overseas), is a much more light-hearted affair, with the Doctor in 12th century England, preparing to meditate but being completely incapable of sitting still for very long. One thing to note here that wasn't as obvious in the Prologue scene is how Capaldi's hair has grown -- or, as Terrance Dicks might say, how increasingly bouffant it's become. It has the effect of making Capaldi seem a bit less severe than in series 8 (well, that and the T-shirt and hoodie, matched with light grey plaid trousers), and the humorous tone of this piece also helps with this -- this Doctor at least seems much more comfortable with himself, even if he's avoiding something dark. It's a fun little scene, and it does the job of making us curious as to just what the Doctor is running from, what it was that he did wrong.

Stuart Manning's poster for "The Magician's
Apprentice" (from Doctor Who: exclusive
The Magician's Apprentice poster revealed)

That brings us to the episode proper. "The Magician's Apprentice", despite being a series opener (no matter what the box sets might have you believe), is something of a quiet, slow burn. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of big exciting ideas and such to make things feel tremendously important, but at its core this is an episode about the Doctor confronting one of the mistakes he's made. It's a great cold open, by the way, and the way Capaldi's face falls as he learns that the boy he's going to rescue is in fact a young Davros is marvellous to behold. But it's that decision he made that propels this entire episode, as he comes to terms with the fact that he left Davros behind.

More on that in a moment, but for now let's focus on everything leading up to the Doctor's inevitable reunion with Davros. As I said, there are some big ideas in this episode and some fun callbacks, such as a return to the Maldovarium (from a number of episodes, starting with "The Pandorica Opens") and the Shadow Proclamation (from "The Stolen Earth") -- and look, they've even brought back Kelly Hunter as the Shadow Architect, just for this scene. But perhaps the biggest idea in the first half is the fact that all the planes in the sky on Earth have been halted. This is just a way for Missy to get UNIT's attention -- and yes, Missy is back with no explanation whatsoever as to how she wasn't killed at the end of "Death in Heaven". "How come you're still alive?" Clara asks her. "Death is for other people, dear," Missy replies dismissively.²⁶³ It's wonderful to see Michelle Gomez back as the Master, and she shows that she's just as crazy as ever, even if this time she's ostensibly on the Doctor's side, having received his confession dial -- his last will and testament. The Doctor expects to die.

Which is what makes his appearance in 12th-century Essex all the more fun, as he rides in on a tank, wearing sunglasses and playing electric guitar: he knows he may die, but he's going to enjoy himself before he goes. It's an unusual sight, but Capaldi makes it seem incredibly natural for his Doctor to play guitar licks. But as I noted earlier, despite all the spectacle this is being driven by the Doctor meeting Davros. Getting picked up by a mobile colony of snakes (Colony Sarff) and bringing Missy and Clara along for the ride is just extra.

And it's great to see Julian Bleach back as Davros (who was also in "The Stolen Earth", come to think of it), giving us a weary, accusatory performance. It's wonderfully nuanced, with little of the ranting that frequently characterizes Davros. Plus we get some nifty callbacks to conversations he'd previously had with the Doctor -- another opportunity to hear Sylvester McCoy rant about unlimited rice pudding.

The Daleks wait for the Supreme Dalek's order. ("The Magician's
Apprentice") ©BBC

OK, before we continue: even though this is only, strictly speaking, discussing the first half of this story, I'm going to bring in some knowledge from "The Witch's Familiar", so if you haven't seen that yet you should stop reading and go watch that. Don't worry, we'll wait.

...

Right, so. There's one Tom Baker clip that Davros plays to the Doctor to accuse him, from the famous "Do I have the right?" scene from part six of Genesis of the Daleks. "If someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you, and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?" the Doctor says in that. And this is what's great about this: for the Doctor, and for the first-time audience, this appears to accuse the Doctor, to say that because he attempted to, if not kill, at least not save the young Davros, he put Davros on the path toward creating the Daleks; because of that attempt, he grew up be totally evil. "Do you know why you came, Doctor? You have a sense of duty. Of guilt, perhaps. And certainly of shame," Davros says to him -- and later, when Clara's life is in danger: "Compassion, Doctor. It has always been your greatest indulgence. Let this be my final victory. Let me hear you say it, just once. Compassion is wrong." But for Davros, and for repeat viewers, suddenly the situation is turned on its head: Davros is accusing the Doctor of not killing Davros, of allowing the Daleks to be created as a result. In fact, because the Doctor ultimately saved Davros's life, he ensured a future full of the Daleks who've just killed Missy and are now threatening to kill Clara; thus, according to Davros, "compassion is wrong" because it led to the deaths of the Doctor's friends. That is frankly brilliant writing, and I'm full of admiration for Steven Moffat, fully intending that reading not to surface until you watch it a second time, with the knowledge of what the Doctor ultimately does.

So yeah, despite the spectacle, this episode comes down to the confrontation between the Doctor and Davros, and it's not about what we see, it's about what we hear, as these two take the time to talk to each other -- a conversation that seems destined to continue, red herring cliffhangers of the Doctor threatening young Davros's life notwithstanding. (Although even that's brilliant, as it starts to suggest that what Davros has been talking about isn't simply neglect but attempted murder.) But we'll have to wait for "The Witch's Familiar" to see how that works out.

²⁶³ Steven Moffat apparently intended this be something of an homage to the way Anthony Ainley's Master would keep popping up, with no explanation as to how he'd survived his previous story. Knowing that doesn't make this any less vaguely irritating, though.

July 16: "Last Christmas"

Stuart Manning's poster for "Last Christmas"
(from Doctor Who: Exclusive Last Christmas
poster revealed)

Strictly speaking (or going by home video boxsets, at least), this episode is the start of series 9, not the end of series 8. But "Last Christmas" (which, remember, only aired a month and a half after "Death in Heaven") partly concerns itself with addressing the unfinished business between the Doctor and Clara, as each lied to the other in the belief that it would make it easier for the other to say goodbye. But it's also a Christmas special, so we get a whole bunch of Christmassy stuff thrown in as well.

But pleasingly, instead of overwhelming us with Christmas imagery and narratives, we're treated to a creepy episode involving an alien crab that latches onto your face and induces a dream state. Cheekily, the end of the episode displays (most of) its influences on screen, as Shona looks at her Christmas to-do list, which includes watching the movies Alien, The Thing from Another World, and Miracle on 34th Street. (No mention of the other major influence on this episode, Inception, but perhaps that's making things a little too obvious -- at least with the others we can say that it was Shona influencing the dream, but including Inception would be a little too meta.) This means that we get a properly scary story that happens to involve Santa Claus.

I have to say, my initial thoughts upon hearing about this episode (well, beyond the obvious jokes about stories now being based on Wham! songs) was a bit of dread as to how they were to going to handle the Santa bit, but there was no need for concern; Steven Moffat has come up with a clever way to integrate Santa and his elves into the storyline without it bringing everything crashing down -- in fact, it just adds to everything. Yes, there's a bit of a sense that Nick Frost is playing Santa the same way he approaches his other roles, but to be fair, that's exactly what the script is looking for -- and he's clearly having fun doing it. Meanwhile, his two elves -- Dan Starkey (now out of his usual Strax makeup) and Nathan McMullen -- are just as much fun, commenting wryly on what's going on and with explanations for all the Santa mythology delivered in a condescending tone of voice.

But this is primarily an episode meant to scare you, and it does a good job. The dream crabs are a combination of being absurd and terrifying, and while, as Professor Albert Smithe (played by Patrick Troughton's son Michael) points out, they resemble the Facehuggers from Alien ("You know, Alien. The horror movie Alien," Albert says. "There's a horror movie called Alien?" the Doctor asks, aghast. "That's really offensive. No wonder everyone keeps invading you"), they're still very effective for the most part -- although the times when the "mouth" opens and reveals the face underneath are rather less successful. It's also an episode about dreams in dreams, and there are some clever moments as a result. "You know what the big problem is in telling fantasy and reality apart? ... They're both ridiculous," the Doctor says, but nevertheless that's the task that's been set for the Doctor, Clara, and these four scientists at the North Pole.

Clara's dream with Danny is obvious wish fulfillment (both for her and for anyone who wanted to see Danny again), but it also serves a greater purpose: to lull the audience into thinking they can recognize the difference between dreams and reality, when in fact that's not remotely true -- it eventually turns out that everything we've seen has been a dream, which they're able to cleverly prove with the Helman-Ziegler test, where they all look at a copy of the same book and pick a random word to see if they're the same. (Of course, this would only work with proving shared dreaming, but it's still a really smart idea.) And so because they can prove it's all dreams, we get an explanation for Santa: it's their subconscious trying to save them from being killed by the Dream Crabs.

So there are thrills and magic coexisting side by side in "Last Christmas", like all the best Doctor Who stories. And there's also the fake out of the ending, where the Doctor goes to save Clara and discovers that she's become an old woman -- only to find out that this too is a dream.²⁶² But that gives the Doctor enough time to regret not going back for Clara, and since they've admitted their lies to each other and have made peace, they can go off and have more adventures together. (Although, worryingly and presumably unintentionally, this repeated "it's just a dream" ploy means that the final shot of the tangerine, which is actually meant to make you wonder if Santa actually is real, instead makes you wonder if they're in fact still in a dream.)

It's a fast-paced, exciting episode, with some scary monsters and some mind-twisting mechanics at work here. There are lots of both fun and suspenseful moments, matched by some lovely acting and clever ideas. Equal parts magic and fear, "Last Christmas" is a great episode, and possibly the best Christmas special of the Moffat era.

And so with "Last Christmas", 563 days later, I've reached the end of my daily Doctor Who (plus spin-offs) viewing. And while I suspect I'll be back for future episodes (though I'll likely wait until they're available in a block -- perhaps check back on 17 July 2016 for the start of series 9...), for now this is it. This, of course, isn't the end of Doctor Who -- series 9 is set to start on 19 September, and not only has series 10 been confirmed, but reportedly Steven Moffat had discussions with BBC Worldwide regarding the future of the next five years of the show. Doctor Who is as strong as ever (it was the BBC's top-selling programme last year) and it looks like there's no signs of it going away. (This presupposes the Tory government is unsuccessful in its current attempts (literally current; the government issued a green paper on the future of the BBC today) to dismantle the BBC.) And the impressive, amazing, wonderful thing about Doctor Who is that through nearly 52 years, the show continues to adapt and change while still remaining, at its heart, the same show about a man in a box travelling the universe and taking in the sights, helping where he can. Sydney Newman and company probably had little inkling of just how flexible a format they'd created, one that their successors could shape in new ways and still remain true to the core. It's little wonder the show has endured; it really is the greatest television show out there. Long may it continue.

²⁶² Reporters kept asking Jenna Coleman and Steven Moffat if Clara would be back for series 9, but they were both tight-lipped, telling people to watch the show and find out -- which led to all sorts of rumors either way. It turns out this was the escape valve: if Coleman wanted to leave, the "old woman" version would have been the reality, and if she wanted to stay, what we eventually got would happen.

July 15: "Death in Heaven"

Stuart Manning's poster for "Death in Heaven"
(from Exclusive Doctor Who Death in Heaven
poster revealed)

It's an admirably cheeky moment, this opening, as after Clara (attempting to prolong her life) tells a Cyberman that she's not Clara Oswald, she's really the Doctor, they alter the title sequence so that Jenna Coleman's name comes first, and that it's her eyes we see instead of Capaldi's. These are the sorts of little moments that make this show something special.

If "Dark Water" was the tense, brooding first half, then "Death in Heaven" is the action-packed second, with lots of thrilling moments -- Cybermen rising from graves! Flying around the planet! Tearing apart an airplane! -- packed into an hour-long episode. But for all that, it's still the smaller character scenes that ultimately provide the best moments here. And to the credit of writer Steven Moffat and director Rachel Talalay, it's clear that that's the point; the Cyberman army, for all its new tricks, takes a backseat to the machinations of the new Master.

Michelle Gomez continues to have an absolute riot of a time as the new Master, providing us with a character who is absolutely insane and knows it and doesn't care. She delights in telling people that they're going to die (her interactions with Osgood being a prime example of her insanity) and she seems completely self-assured, as she knows that her Cyber-pollen plan has already taken effect and there's nothing anyone can do about it. ("Throw away your weapons, Man Scout, it's all over," the Doctor tells Colonel Ahmed. "How can you win a war against an enemy that can weaponise the dead?") There's something incredibly appealing about Gomez's homicidal quirkiness, but it's made very clear that she's a killer, and what's more, that she's killing people for fun. This combination means she's a very dangerous opponent.

And yet the twist is that she's gone to all this trouble of harvesting dying minds and creating a new race of Cybermen from the bodies of the dead (although one wonders how they get enough material to cover themselves in metal/plastic -- surely the Cyber-pollen can't be that good?) in order to give it to the Doctor as a gift. ("Happy birthday," she tells him. "Oh! You didn't know, did you? It's lucky one of us remembers these things.") She wants to show the Doctor that they're really not that different, the Doctor and the Master, that they're still at heart the same people who were childhood friends, and so by giving him an army she'll make him like her. It's a marvelously insidious scheme that demonstrates that despite the outward changes, this is still the Master. (Thus cementing Neil Gaiman's throwaway line in "The Doctor's Wife" suggesting that Time Lords can change sex -- although, predictably, there was an element of fandom who objected strongly to the change, though for no obviously compelling reason.)

So yes, while the action sequences are entertaining -- watching Cybermen all over the UNIT airplane is a great image, and we get things like fan favorite Osgood's shocking death and Kate Stewart being sucked out of the craft -- it really is the character moments that anchor everything. The Cyber-converted Danny Pink, still in possession of his emotions (since he didn't delete them) as he's strapped inside the Cyber-suit, is a frankly impressive display of acting, even before he removes the faceplate. The way the actor inside (I'm guessing it's Jeremiah Krage) lowers his head after listening to the unaware Clara tell him that "I am an incredible liar" is fabulous, and the scenes of Danny inside the suit, his face pale and distorted by implants, are disturbing. And he's predictably not in the best mood, which is likely why he's so antagonistic toward the Doctor -- even more so than usual. "Clara, watch this," Danny says. "This is who the Doctor is. Watch the blood-soaked old general in action. I can't see properly, sir, because this needs activating. If you want to know what's coming, you have to switch it on. And didn't all of those beautiful speeches [about pain being a gift] just disappear in the face of a tactical advantage? Sir." But it's the confrontation with both Danny and the Master that finally lets the Doctor realize who he is. He's faced with a terrible choice (either accept the Cyberarmy as his or let the Cyber-pollen clouds rain death and destruction down on the living), but he finds the right decision. "Thank you," he tells the Master. "Thank you so much. I really didn't know. I wasn't sure. You lose sight sometimes. Thank you! I am not a good man! I am not a bad man. I am not a hero. And I'm definitely not a president. And no, I'm not an officer. Do you know what I am? I am an idiot, with a box and a screwdriver. Just passing through, helping out, learning. I don't need an army. I never have, because I've got them." He puts the decision to end things in the hands of Danny Pink, a soldier, allowing him to choose his own fate to save the lives of others. Thus the Earth is saved. I'm less convinced of the decision to create a Cyber-Brigadier, which does feel a tad ghoulish given that Nick Courtney has passed away, but it does at least provide a way of dealing with the Master that doesn't involve either Clara or the Doctor committing murder.

It's not exactly a triumphant ending, and the closing moments of the Doctor and Clara lying to each other (the Doctor about finding Gallifrey, Clara about having Danny back -- Danny chose to send back the child he'd killed as a soldier instead of himself) are quite downbeat. But what "Death in Heaven" makes clear is that the Doctor is not the Master. It tells us that love is an incredibly powerful force, and that it's the relationships we create that define us, for good or ill. Despite the superficial trappings, "Dark Water" / "Death in Heaven" is a thoughtful examination of these themes, and if the finished product lacks some of the impact of previous series finales, the difference is made up in those character moments.

Still, no wonder Santa shows up (in the middle of the end credits! Another cheeky move!) to tell the Doctor he and Clara can't leave things like that.

Series 8 has marked less a change of direction so much as a change of emphasis; in principle there's nothing really radically different about this year's run of stories from the previous year's, but what's changed is the focus on the characters. Series 7 was about big ideas, about the mystery of the Impossible Girl and the upcoming 50th anniversary story, while series 8 wants to examine our heroes. Who is this new Doctor? Who is Clara Oswald, now that she's not the girl who was "born to save the Doctor"? What is it like for these people to travel and see the things they've seen, and make the decisions they make? These are opportunities that both Jenna Coleman and Peter Capaldi seize eagerly. Coleman in particular flourishes, as Clara gains some nuances and becomes a more three-dimensional character, and you can tell that Coleman appreciates the chance to flesh out Clara's character. Peter Capaldi does just as well (even if the material he's given occasionally doesn't work -- and here I'm thinking of the odd insults he has to deliver to Clara in the early parts of this series), as he strives to give us a Doctor that's markedly different from the last two Doctors and succeeds in doing so without alienating viewers. This is an actor who loves the show, and that affection bleeds through every move, every line of dialogue, so that even when he's being brusque and unlikeable it's still clear that this Doctor is the same man as ever.

It's something of new ground for the show, to make the focus land so squarely on the Doctor and his companion, but it works; not only do we get more of an insight into these characters, but it also results in perhaps the most generally accessible run of episodes since series 4. You don't need to have been watching all the previous episodes to understand what's happening. And while series 8 has been a bit more uneven in quality than series 7 was, it rarely descends to levels of unwatchability, and there's always something entertaining or compelling going on. It does sometimes feel like you have to work a bit harder at this series, but there are plenty of rewards for those willing to do so. Even after 51 years, Doctor Who can find new things to say and do, and that's perhaps no clearer than in the whole of series 8.