Night Terrors

Night Terrors is a breath of fresh air.  Not because it's a classic or anything.  It's a good, solid, well-made episode that wouldn't particularly stand out in any era of Who.

But it's a relief to have an episode this season for which I actually feel certain of my feelings.  I've had to watch the last four episodes three times each before even deciding whether or not I liked them, and then rewrote my Good Man review after seeing Let's Kill Hitler.  Even The Doctor's Wife had me torn a little between its shining brilliance and its unsatisfyingly jammed running length.  So a story I can watch once and know exactly how I feel about it is just wonderful.

Much of the praise goes to director Richard Clark, of Gridlock and The Doctor's Wife.  Clark's framing and pacing are superb; he creates a creepy yet whimsical atmosphere out of some pretty simple settings.  His visual sense adds a lot to the story; the TARDIS appearing reflected in puddle is a particularly nice touch.  The long shadows and sharp lighting reminiscent of German Expressionism give Night Terrors a uniquely eerie atmosphere that elevates the story.

Clark's mastery overcomes the shortcomings of Mark Gatiss' script, which is fine but entirely unspectacular.  It seems to come from the concept that Doctor Who's one and only subject is Monsters and the funny British guy who fights them.  Which is an important part of Doctor Who, but a very narrow view of the show. (I'm not saying Gatiss views it that way, but he sure doesn't give any hint here or in his other three Who scripts that there's much more to the show.  I haven't read any of his Who novels, to be fair) It's pretty straightforward: the Doctor lands somewhere, finds monsters, talks his way out of it, everything's happy again.

But the execution, on the whole, is really good.  Much of the story focuses on the Doctor trying to help out a worried father, nicely played by Daniel Mays.  He also gets some time with the kid, and Smith always amazes working with kids.  Amy and Rory mostly run through creepy hallways and such, but they do it very well.  Arthur Darvill has a particularly marvelous scene where he almost sighs when he comes to believe that the two of them are dead.  Again.

The monsters, when they do show up, are creepy enough; the transformations are very unsettling, utilizing terrific effects.  The choppiness of the transformations in particular sells the effect to the point that it's hard to be certain how much is CGI and how much is practical.  Nicely done.

This is, unfortnately, yet another case of Murray Gold blaring music over scenes that clearly need no music at all.  And again, it's not bad music, but it takes from the scenes' effectiveness.  And very often, his music really is effective; he (or the director, or producers, or someone) won't turn it off when it isn't needed.

The story, ultimately, ends up going exactly where you expect it, without ever quite managing to raise the stakes or the intensity high enough to really score.  But it's watchable, entertaining, and solid, thanks largely to a director who knows how to squeeze all the atmosphere and drama out of a simple yarn and small setting.

RATING:

* * *

The Doctor's Wife

Doctor: I don't know what to do.  I really don't know what to do.
[smiles]
Doctor: That's a new feeling!

Every now and then, an episode will focus on something that's always been present but never really came to the front in the show.  Last year's Amy's Choice explored the Doctor's inner feelings.

The Doctor's Wife explores his relationship with his TARDIS in a delightfully insane way.  Like Amy's Choice, it doesn't have any real revelations, but it's wonderful to hear these things expressed.

Which is to say, spoilers.

The episode's central conceit is ingenious: the soul of the TARDIS is sucked into a human body for certain nefarious purposes.  As played by Suranne Jones, the TARDIS is every bit as eccentric and funny as the Doctor, and with the added fun of discovering a new world of being alive.  It's truly brilliant dialogue from Neil Gaiman, consistently funny, moving, and fascinating, all at the same time, and Jones and Matt Smith play it for every ounce of humor and warmth it's worth.  I'd love to quote every moment of it, but it's honestly best saved for watching the story; I wouldn't want to spoil a moment of the fun.

As for the two companions, Amy and Rory spend much of the story trapped in the corridors of the TARDIS, now controlled by a cruel villain, resulting in a series of exceedingly creepy, atmospheric sequences.

The villain himself and his said nefarious purposes are wildly imaginative and very, very cool, though the 45-minute format smashes them into a very small corner.  Still, the genius of the concept and the wonderful viocework of Michael Sheen make every moment here shine.

He doesn't show his face, so here's the f/x artists being awesome.

And that, to be honest, is my only real complaint about this episode.  Even as it is, it's wonderful.  Every scene and moment shines with pure joy.  But it's just so rushed, so short...  There's only a handful of scenes between the Doctor and the TARDIS, the heart of the episode.  Their final exchange is deeply touching, but with more time spent with her than a few fleeting exchanges, it would have been absolutely heartbreaking and absolutely heartwarming.  The villain is so awesome that his underdeveloped plot doesn't hurt the story, like the Headmaster in School Reunion, but it could have been one of the all-time great villains.  The haunting travels through the corridors are wonderfully creepy, but there's only a few minutes of it before it has to run on to something else.  I love seeing the Ood return, but despite a decent amount of screentime, it seems entirely tangential to the story itself.  Aunt and Uncle are terrific characters, but they aren't around long enough for their fate to have an impact, or, for that matter, for their existence to make sense.

But I can't say anything really bad about anything that actually happens in the story.  It says something about how good this yarn is that I'm giving it my highest rating anyway.  Even compressed and gasping for air, it's a work of beauty and joy, one of the finest stories in the Who canon.

A little more time and space, and it would have been the finest.

But it doesn't stop me from loving every moment of it.

"Thief?  Where's my thief!"

RATING:

* * * *

SIDENOTES:

• So, the big question about Rory is this: is his dying in every episode just a (hilarious) running joke, or is it actually going to play out somehow?  I don't mind the former; it's just a random musing on something that might be an arc-thread.
• Speaking of which, it was fun to see a story where Rory was more important than Amy, because he's awesome, too.  Their scenes are as well-written as the main ones.  There's a lovely little moment where everything gets really, really bad, and Amy asks him to hold her hand.  It's a credit to Karen Gillan that this comes off as bravely facing her fear rather than just fear, and it's an equally great credit to Arthur Darvill that the outwardly meek Rory earns her trust in his strength so fully.  But the best moment in their storyline is when and why the TARDIS sends a telepathic message to Rory.

• Okay, it was awesome seeing the Eccleston/Tennant TARDIS console again, but you know what would have been even cooler?  Seeing the epic McGann console.  Maybe when they do a multi-Doctor story and bring him in.  Which they have to do.  Have to.
• This isn't a major criticism, but it occurred to me that, outside of the action scenes, Murray Gold's music was largely superfluous.  His action music is great, but during dialogue scenes, it's just kinda added background noise.  It doesn't hurt anything, so I can't really complain.  But cutting out the music when it doesn't need to be around would give it a much greater impact when it did show up.
  
  See Rocky for a particularly standout example of this: except for the opening theme, until the last half hour, there's only a few moments of music, and even that's mostly quiet piano solos.  So when it rips out "Gonna Fly Now" for the training montage and the sweeping, exhilarating fight music, it's an absolute knockout that just wouldn't exist if rousing anthems played throughout.
  
  Again, it's a minor thing, but it crops up in almost every new series episode: Gold writes music for every scene, whether or not they'd be enhanced by background music.  Sometimes it reduces the emotion of the scene by telling us what to feel, and in doing so, simplifying what we feel.  When he goes for big, epic themes or contemplative vocals (or both), he almost always comes up with something pretty awesome, but when he's scoring witty dialgoue, it just comes across as unnecessary.