An Hour of Who a Day

July 23: "The Zygon Invasion"

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

Peter Harness's story last series - "Kill the Moon" - didn't exactly impress me with its writing (it was in fact my least favorite episode of series 8). So it was heartening to see just how much of an improvement "The Zygon Invasion" was over that entry. Perhaps that's because there's less frustrating pseudo-science in this episode; one of the major problems with "Kill the Moon" was the feeling that it was an early draft, with events connected by the barest of threads that were never properly resolved/technobabbled away; the underlying idea wasn't too bad. Fortunately, there's very little of that unfinished feeling here.

It's also good to see the show finally address the major dangling plotline left unresolved from "The Day of the Doctor": what exactly happened with the Zygons at the end of that story. The opening of this episode gives us a bit of expository-heavy but necessary background: a resettlement opportunity was created where 20 million Zygons would take on human form (so as not to unsettle the humans) and would live peacefully on Earth. "[The Zygons'] shape-changing ability should not be considered a weapon," one of the Osgoods says. But should the ceasefire between the humans and the Zygons break down, there's something called an Osgood Box that will resolve the situation, although we don't know how.

That's the setup. The actual storyline deals with this "Nightmare Scenario", with a small faction of Zygons demanding the rights to live without hiding, even though it seems that's only possible if the human race is destroyed. The story doesn't shy away from being political; with pointed references to radicalization of a splinter group who nevertheless believe they're acting in the best interests of their entire race, it's not hard to draw parallels with groups like ISIL/ISIS or Al-Qaeda. Fortunately, however, this isn't turned into the focus of the story, but rather is used to draw a parallel for the audience. What the story wants to make clear (although, honestly, it'll be more obvious in the next episode) is that this group (called Truth or Consequences, it seems, after the name of the town in New Mexico where relations between the two species first broke down) only represents a small proportion of the Zygons living on Earth; this isn't the standard monolithic alien race bent on conquest, but something more nuanced.

There's also a more global feeling to this story; we get scenes in London, New Mexico (in reality filmed in Fuerteventura, one of the Canary Islands, but they've done a decent job making it look like a town in the American Southwest), and the fictional country of Turmezistan (presumably somewhere in central Asia, near the other similarly-named former Soviet republics), which does expand the scope of things. And the use of a more global cast for UNIT (Colonel Walsh is fairly obviously British, but others like drone operator Lisa and soldier Hitchley are American) helps with this as well. And so the combination of these global elements, combined with the radicalization plot, gives "The Zygon Invasion" the feel of a contemporary political thriller -- something of a different style for Doctor Who, but one that's very effective.

And of course it wouldn't be a Zygon story without doubles. Here we learn that Zygons can now reach into people's memories to take human form (no more need to refresh the bodyprint à la Terror of the Zygons), which leads to lots of memorable moments, like a whole group of UNIT soldiers' family members emerging from a Turmezistan church or, charmingly, the revelation that the Zygon High Command have been operating as two little blonde girls. But the most impressive of all is Jenna Coleman, who's taken over early on (though we don't learn that until the end of the episode) and then pretends to be Clara -- although her pulling her hair back (something I can't recall seeing the real Clara do) is a bit of a sign that something is different. But she seems so much like Clara ("Did you just call yourself 'Doctor Disco'?" and "Everybody middle-aged always thinks the world's about to come to an end" being two of her more memorable lines) that when that façade drops, and we see just how cruel she is as "Bonnie", that's genuinely chilling and impressive.

Osgood and the Doctor question a Zygon captive. ("The Zygon
Invasion") ©BBC

That's not to belittle the other actors by comparison, mind; Peter Capaldi continues to impress (and he seems to be going for a '70s theme in names, calling himself both "Doctor Disco" and "Dr. Funkenstein", after the Parliament song), Ingrid Oliver is wonderful as Osgood (and it's nice to have her back in a clever way, after she died at the hand of the Master in "Death in Heaven"), and Jemma Redgrave does a good job as Kate Stewart, investigating what happened in Truth or Consequences (which includes a scene, as she drives up, with a clichéd tumbleweed rolling by -- until you realize after the fact it's not a tumbleweed but the remains of a Zygon victim²⁶⁵) -- even if she seems a lot more trigger-happy than before. (What happened to "Science leads"? But I guess if you suddenly had to monitor Operation Double all the time, you might become more inclined to violence too...)

In other words, this is an incredibly strong episode, one that has a good chance of being one of the standout stories of series 9 -- so long as the second episode can keep things going, that is. And what a cliffhanger! "I'm sorry, but Clara's dead. Kate Stewart is dead. The UNIT troops are all dead," Bonnie says to the Doctor. "Truth or consequences," she adds, as she shoots the Doctor's plane out of the sky with a missile launcher. If that doesn't get them tuning in next week, I'm not sure what will.

²⁶⁵ Unless I'm reading too much into this, but I don't think I am.

July 22: "The Woman Who Lived"

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

After 7 years (not since 2008's "The Sontaran Stratagem" / "The Poison Sky" 2-parter, to be precise), we finally get a female writer on Doctor Who proper again (although apparently not, as Steven Moffat stressed, for want of trying). This is Catherine Tregenna's first story for Doctor Who itself, but you might remember her name from some of the better episodes of the first two series of Torchwood.

So, despite the similarities in names between this and the previous episode (and the "TO BE CONTINUED" thing at the end of "The Girl Who Died"), "The Woman Who Lived" doesn't feel like part 2 of a 2-parter so much as a sequel that happens to directly follow the original story. I can't quite decide if that's a good thing or not; on the one hand, it's rather jarring to go from Ashildr's characterization last week to Me's characterization this week, and so perhaps putting a story in between (maybe the "Under the Lake" 2-parter?) might have helped smoothed things over; on the other hand, part of me wonders if this disconcerting feeling isn't in fact the point of the exercise.

Because make no mistake, the intervening 800 years have changed Ashildr/Me, and not for the better. If the person we saw last week was kind and caring, the person she's become is bitter and cruel, seeming to blame the Doctor for her woes and believing him to be a coward. "So you intend to fix me?" she says bitterly to the Doctor. "Make me feel again, then run away? I don't need your help, Doctor; you need mine. Just this once, you can't run off like you usually do." Scenes like this are probably meant to be somewhat accusatory toward the Doctor, to make us question him and his motives, but since we've already had plenty of that up to this point (see just about every episode Toby Whithouse has ever done), this didn't really engage me; instead my primary feeling was one of pity for Me, seeing her brought to this state. She's exhibiting an all-too-human reaction, yes, but it's still sad to see how much pain and anguish she had allowed to enter her heart. Mind you, the script isn't unaware of this, as a later exchange makes clear:

DOCTOR: Oh, Ashildr, daughter of Einarr, what happened to you?
ME: You did, Doctor. You happened. ... You still won't take me with you. You gad about while I trudge through the centuries, day by day, hour by hour. Do you ever think or care what happens after you've flown away? I live in the world you leave behind, because you abandoned me to it.
DOCTOR: Why should I be responsible for you?
ME: You made me immortal.
DOCTOR: I saved your life. I didn't know that your heart would rust because I kept it beating. I didn't think your conscience would need renewing, that the well of human kindness would run dry. I just wanted to save a terrified young woman's life.
ME: You didn't save my life, Doctor. You trapped me inside it.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Woman Who Lived)

Leandro is killed by his people while the hangman, the Doctor, Me,
and Sam Swift look on. ("The Woman Who Lived") ©BBC

These are obviously some heavy moments; so heavy, in fact, that the comparative lightness of the rest of the story feels slightly unbalanced. It probably doesn't help that the alien plotline with Leandro the Lionman isn't terribly compelling, and in fact doesn't actually take up much screentime, despite its ostensibly driving much of the story.

What does help, though, is Rufus Hound's performance as Sam Swift the outlaw, who gives a fun performance, with a generous dose of gallows humor that intentionally feels slightly desperate, as he knows that once he stops telling jokes they'll hang him. In some ways Sam Swift is the antithesis of Me; Me says she steals for the adventure of it, but she never seems to be having much actual fun doing it, while Sam Swift seems so happy to be alive (both before and after he's pardoned) that it's hard not to get swept up in his spirit a little bit. In fact, I wonder if the story had focused a little more on the contrast between the two, if that might not have sharpened some of the points being made.

So while I can see what they're all trying to do, and I think they do a good job of it, nevertheless it's hard to say I actually liked "The Woman Who Lived". This is, for me at least, an episode that is much easier to appreciate and respect than it is to actually enjoy.

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."

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.

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.