Day of the Doctor

 "Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one." 

-- Clara Oswald, quoting Marcus Aurelius.
(or, we might one day learn, Marcus Aurelius quoting Clara Oswald)

Name of the Doctor finally, after 50 years, established the Doctor's name - which is the one he chose all along, of course. Partly for his ego, to carry the weight of grand intelligence and studies. But he quickly became the man who saves, who heals, and who brings fear to the monsters. So how could that man make himself a warrior, live through centuries of killing and fighting, and end it by committing an act of double genocide? And how can he reconcile that with his name?

For three lifetimes and seven seasons, he really hasn't. And, we learn, during the war, he refused to even take the name Doctor. After 400 years, it haunts him. He tells himself he had to do it, to save the universe from being torn apart across every moment of time. And he did. He tells himself the Time Lords were as corrupt and as capable of destruction as the Daleks. And they were. Nor has the Doctor been against killing or violence, particularly when the Daleks were involved; after all, he destroyed Skaro itself. Yet that final decision is one a man like him - truly, a good man - could never fully live with. And in some way, the Time War has always hung over him throughout the revival.

From this, for the Golden Anniversary, Stephen Moffat makes the final definitive statement on the Time War. It's a great moral question: kill millions to save billions, or billions to save trillions or more. But given even the slightest hint of a chance, the Doctor's answer is to save them both. Which of course is his answer. It was always his answer, in every incarnation.

Moffat's stories, for all their tear-jerking and deep-rooted terror, are fundamentally optimistic. (Just as RTD's, for all their joy, were fundamentally cynical) So it's no surprise his answer to the war is different than RTD's in The End of Time. And thankfully, Moffat is perhaps the greatest writer ever to work on Doctor Who, and he brings the full force of his talent and skill to a story that could never be anything less than one of the grand epics of Who.

On the surface, of course, he does what you'd hope he would do: a multi-Doctor story. Which is what Who did for its 10th and 20th anniversaries, respectively. (and also the 30th, but we don't talk about that one) There's an inherent madness to the concept of a multi-Doctor story to begin with, made madder by the casual way it's done. It's a big deal, even in-Universe, but the actual insanity of the concept is brushed off with a few jokes before getting on with the fun stuff.

After a zippy introduction with the Eleventh Doctor and Clara being taken in by UNIT for an investigation, we're given a glimpse of a three-dimensional painting, a moment of time locked away in a frame (and a gorgeous visual effect), of Gallifrey's last day. After which, finally, after teasing us in both Name and Night of the Doctor, we meet The War Doctor on the day Gallifrey falls.

John Hurt's War Doctor gets a hell of an entrance, too -- first, just his shadow lit on a wall by one of the fires of war. His gravelly voice commanding, "Soldier, I'm going to need your gun." Even as the War Doctor, he uses a gun not to kill directly, instead, blasting "NO MORE" in a stone wall. A dying Dalek cries: "What are these words? Explain... Explain!" Then, as a squadron of Daleks close in, the TARDIS flies in and destroys them. And we still haven't even seen his face. Mad Max didn't get such a knockout of an entrance.

(On the other hand, the last day of the Time War is really disappointingly generic. This is the war between the Lord of Time and the Daleks, the war that would have torn the universe itself asunder. Journey's End had the Doctor refer to Davros' ship flying into the jaws of The Nightmare Child at the Gates of Elysium. Day of the Doctor has a big laser fight with some explosions. 

I mean, it's cool, and I realize it would have been hard to live up to that buildup, but they could have at least tried to make it look like something other than a Star Wars knockoff. The Dalek Choir from Journey's End plays on the soundtrack, and while it's always fun to hear, again, it feels more like a general sci-fi war anthem when something stranger seems needed.

Though, admittedly, it's a very slick, shiny, expensive Star Wars knockoff. As pure action film making, it's thrilling stuff, and looks like it came from a massively-budgeted Hollywood film. And not one of those modern CGI fests that are all starting to look like the same weightless cartoons; it's proper Hollywood spectacle, like Return of the Jedi or Independence Day. In particular, Mike Tucker's model work is absolutely sensational. I suppose there is something of an in-Universe explanation in that the Time Lords are losing and have already used most of their big guns. And "The Sky Trenches are holding" is at least in the realm of Time War-ish- my word, is this parenthetical still going?)

Hurt is fantastic, as you'd expect, and Moffat gives him plenty to work with. Even in a single episode featuring two other Doctors, War is a fully developed take with his own sense of humor, his own quirks, and his own character arc. Hurt plays it all to the hilt in a quietly commanding way, wisely underplaying to David Tennant's delightful melodramatic showboating and Matt Smith's frantic silliness.

The Doctor steals the Moment -- the Galaxy Eater, a weapon so powerful it developed a consciousness -- and finally, we get something Time War worthy. (Unsurprisingly, the fanciful name was RTD's, but the execution is all Moffat) The Time Lords never used it because "How do you use a weapon of ultimate mass destruction when it can stand in judgement of you?" The Doctor brings the Moment to an abandoned farm on a secluded planet (which we learn more about in Listen). 

(It's here that we finally see a good shot of the War Doctor's face when he walks into focus. This seems like the time to bring up Nick Hurran's direction, which is at its best. His visuals are a dazzling yet story-driven as ever, the actors are fully-emotional, and even his usual flaw, the awkward staging, is done so confidently it feels more like a charming directorial quirk than, you know, awkward staging.)

Unsurprisingly, the fanciful name of The Moment was RTD's, but the execution is pure Moffat. It appears to him as Rose. It's a brilliant use of Billie Piper, giving the feeling of seeing Rose again while giving Piper something much weirder and more fun to do. (I especially love her mockery of his "No more!")

"Don't sit on that! It's not a chair, it's a weapon of ultimate destruction!"
"Why can't it be both?"

Of course, she sees right through him and has plenty of fun ("If I ever develop an ego, you've got the job."). But she's also deadly serious about, well, how deadly she is.

"There will be consequences for this."
"I have no desire to survive this."
"Then that's your punishment. If you do this, if you kill them all, then that's the consequence. You live."

So she opens a portal to the Doctor's future. And, naturally, a fez falls through. (The Moment: "Okay, I wasn't expecting that.")

So, having established this epic backdrop, Moffat draws us back into the other story, an engagingly silly multi-Doctor story with War, Ten, and Eleven together in a comic-horror plot involving UNIT and Zygons. Here, he can essentially deliver what we expect in a big celebratory anniversary while quietly layering the larger themes. 

First of all, it's just wonderful seeing David Tennant back in the role, and he and Moffat both clearly relish every moment of it.

"What's that?"
"It's a machine that goes 'ding.'"

Although the highlight is his big speech to the rabbit.

(The other flaw of the story, unfortunately, shows up here - Johanna Page's performance as Elizabeth I is completely, painfully wrong. Page plays her as a broad, shrill comedy character, which actually tramples the humor and the characterization. Queenie from Blackadder was a more dignified take on the character. Though I do kinda like Moffat's explanation of the joke from the Tennant era of Liz hating him. She's also a relatively minor character, so it's not a major problem.)

Jemma Redgrave's Kate Stewart from The Power of Three returns, though she's far better fleshed out here. She's introduced with a delightful note of whimsy - "The ravens are looking sluggish. Tell them we'll need new batteries." But she's also given a darker side, as we learn that she runs The Black Archive, a location that's TARDIS-proof, and where the guards' memories are wiped every day. (I love how the horror of this is just casually swept under the rug.) And, ultimately, she's willing to make the same sort of violent, ultimate war-like decision her father would have made - and that the Doctor did make.

Zygon Kate: We only have to agree to live.
Kate: Sadly, we can only agree to die.

Her relationship with the Doctor has a little more of the sort of tension it should have, while being distinct from his tension with The Brigadier. I love the Doctors' angry look when Clara mentions The Black Archive. (Clara: So, you've heard of that, then?)

Redgrave also gets to do some straight-out villainy, transforming into a Zygon. It's a fantastic make-up effect anyway, but Redgrave really sells it, especially with her off-handed delivery of the line, "They've probably just finished disposing of the humans a little early."

Speaking of which, the Zygons are back, and relegated entirely to the B-plot. They're a really cool-looking monster who aren't actually that interesting and really have no A plot to be told.

Even better than a rubbish old favorite returning is a new, totally not-rubbish, instant-favorite in Ingrid Oliver's Osgood, Kate Stewart's assistant. She's too good. A total Doctor fangirl, who not only wears a Scarf of Many Colors, but pretty much prays to the Doctor when she's in trouble. She's just about the nerdiest nerd ever, with both brainy specs and asthma. But Moffat isn't making fun of her in the slightest. (Teasing a little at times, maybe.) Being a Doctor fangirl has also made her extremely clever (deducing that the Zygons are pretending to be the statues), resourceful (escaping a Zygon by tripping it with her foot - and getting a great one-liner in the process!), and heroic (saving Kate from the Zygon's traps, marching into the Black Archive at her side). She's the perfect final touch - not just a representation of a Whovian in-Universe, but a Whovian who lives up to the Doctor.

"Hey, you! Are you sciencey?"

But, of course, the real fun of a multi-Doctor story is getting all three of them together in the same place, and with Moffat in charge, it's absolutely awesome. They mock each other, argue, and occasionally even accomplish things working together, with all the wit you'd hope for. (I especially like War's comments on the way they hold their sonics like guns. "They're screwdrivers! What are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?")

They also each get nice takes on the Doctor's general anti-authoritarianism. Eleven gets the banter with Clara about whether or not he has a job with UNIT (Clara knows he doesn't, because she gets him). Ten is far more horrified of the idea that he might be King of England than of the monster that just revealed itself. And War just generally exudes antipathy toward any authority he runs into.

It would pretty much be satisfying to just have them hang around for 75 minutes, but Moffat also uses their time in the prison cell to dig in and tear open the flaws of all three Doctors. Most compellingly, he contrasts how Ten and Eleven deal with their continued angst in the war. Ten keeps it forever at the forefront of his mind, his wounds forever unhealed. Eleven simply forgets as much as he can, which itself will never fully heal the wounds. (As they say, a doctor is his own worst physician.)

War: I don't know who you are. Either of you. I haven't got the faintest idea.
The Moment: They're you. They're what you become if you destroy Gallifrey. The Man Who Regrets, and The Man Who Forgets.

It's a brief but intensely dramatic sequence, that segues nicely into the Doctors solving the locked door by figuring out that since their Sonics are all fundamentally the same Sonic (the same software just upgraded into different cases), the War Doctor can start it on calculating the atomic structure of the door . Then, a few hundred years later, Eleven's has finished the calculations... which turns out to be a hilarious shaggy-dog joke when Clara barges in, revealing that the door was unlocked the whole time.

Which brings them back around to the Zygons, who traveled through time by hiding themselves in the 3D paintings that were frozen moments in time (bigger on the inside...), and they use the same trick, blasting through the painting of Gallifrey's fall into the Black Archive just in time. (along with a Dalek they just blew up)

War: Hello.
Ten: I'm the Doctor. 
Eleven: Sorry about the Dalek. 
Clara: Also the showing off.

Kate has turned into an opaque reflection of the Doctor, chosing to kill millions in order to save billions. Ten tells her it's a decision she will never live with, while Eleven winces painfully. The Doctor, naturally, forces them to make peace (the most perfect treaty ever, because he's the Doctor). The War Doctor, impressed, decides that the angst and suffering will be worthwhile to become a man (or men) who saves so many so effortlessly.  As he says, "Great men are forged in fire. It is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame."

But Ten and Eleven (urged on by Clara, the Doctor's conscience as the Companion should be) show up to stand with him. As Eleven explains, "You were the Doctor on the day it wasn't possible to get it right." 

Clara: We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero.
11: Then what do I do?
Clara: What you've always done. Be a Doctor.

And then, again pushed by Clara, they refuse to push the button, and Eleven explains that he's been thinking about this for four hundred years, and with all three of them together, they can figure it out. Well, more than all three of them. All twelve of them. Or, rather, thirteen. (Was that moment chilling or what?) 

And now the final parallels with the Zygon plot become clear. The Moment, by being the companionless War Doctor's conscience, paralleled the companion, perfectly embodied by Clara. (and managed to give us a taste of Rose Tyler, the companion who gave the Doctor much of the healing he did get after the war) The Painting, a frozen moment in time (which, after all, is what a picture is to begin with), is what the Doctor makes Gallifrey. The Sonic was made a clever reflection of the Doctor ("Same software, different face."); but, even more ingeniously, that shaggy-dog joke about the sonic's calculations was the set-up for the finale -- the calculations could be begun with the First Doctor.

Time Lord: Why would you do that?
11: Because the alternative is burning.
10: And I've seen that.
11: And I never want to see that again.
Time Lord: ... we'd have nothing!
11: You would have hope.

That's Moffat's greatest trick here: using a small comedy to make a staggering epic greater, and the epic elements to give the humor more tension and punch. It's a magnificent trick he seems to pull off effortlessly. He built to a climax of thirteen Doctors saving Gallifrey from the Daleks and the Universe from Gallifrey, and earned it with a bunch of jokes about screwdrivers.

And he does it without erasing all the compelling drama the last seven seasons have pulled out of the Time War, which was a powerful idea to begin with. Since the War and Tenth Doctors forget about it, their successors' character arcs still stand. And War gets a moving final moment, getting to feel as though after centuries of warfare, he is truly the Doctor again.

And then Moffat can't resist and throws in The Curator, who pours his heart and soul into his brief moments. His broad delivery of "Gallifrey Falls No More" is both rousing and deeply moving, the final catharsis of a fantastic story.

(On a smaller note, I love the way Nick Hurran goes to handheld when you hear the voice, before we actually see him, adding that great little bit of extra tension. The cameo literally shakes the world.)

(I also love how the scene uses music from The Big Bang and Wedding of River song.) 

(And I especially love gratuitous parentheticals.)

These anniversary stories reflect a lot about what the creators think the show is. The Three Doctors is a non-stop array of mad ideas and whimsical humor building to a conclusion that's simultaneously epic and a few old Brits standing around in a room theatrically drama-ing at each other. (which sounds like a pretty accurate description of the show to me) Conversely, The Five Doctors is a slick (by low-budget early 80s TV standards) series of set pieces and pointless continuity references strung together efficiently. It's a very watchable take on everything that goes wrong with the show in the 80s. And it would have been easy for Day of the Doctor to fall in the same trap.

But Moffat is too good for that. He brings the full force of his wit to the dialogue, loading it with not only the expected banter between Doctors, but with rich, multi-layered meanings. The story is perfectly paced and structured to give both the sweeping A-plot about the Time War, and the small, comic-horror Zygon B-plot all the time they need without slowing down. It aims long and scores a bulls-eye.

It's more worth comparing to The Three Doctors, then. Every place that one succeeded - imagination, concepts, humor, and cast chemistry - this one excels further. And naturally, with the advances in technology and vastly larger budget, it exceeds it technically. But it's in the story where Day proves truly masterful; The Three Doctors is content to be a wild ride of ideas and jokes, its story and themes amounting to little more than a bigger threat than usual. (probably) "Merely grand entertainment" is a silly flaw to accuse something of, and I'm certainly not doing that. But when a work like Day of the Doctor manages to be just as grandly entertaining and deliver a powerful, meaningful drama, too, it simply shows how great Day is in comparison.



RATING:

* * * *


SIDENOTES

• Clara is introduced having graduated from nanny to a teacher (at Coal Hill School!). It's a great character moment without having to be announced as one in any way; she's truly dedicated to children. And then rides her bike right into the TARDIS. She doesn't get a lot to do in the story, which naturally is about other things, but the little she gets is fantastic, and builds on what's already been established about her. I complained throughout series 7 about her being underdeveloped, but I think the problems were elsewhere, because everything wonderful and vivid about her was there in series 8.
  Put another way, how did it take Deep Breath to realize that Clara is AWESOME!

• I love the War Doctor's TARDIS - a nice melding of Classic and New styles of the TARDIS.
  11: Hey, look, the round things!
  10: I love the round things.
  11: What are the round things?
  10: No idea.
• The Zygons lost their home in the first days of the Time War... which makes Terror of the Zygons a minor side part of the Time War, right?
• I actually first saw this projected at the Austin Comic-Con last year, which was a phenomenally cool way to see it. I mean, I missed some of the jokes because the audience was laughing too hard and the previous jokes, but the experience of seeing a great movie with an enthusiastic audience is always a wonderful experience. They really went wild for Tennant's final line, but I think I was the only one who laughed out loud at Kate's line about the dates on UNIT files: "The 70s or 80s depending on the dating protocol used."

An Adventure In Space and Time

Now that we're almost a year out from the 50th, maybe it's time for me to finish up these last two reviews so I can get onto the current run of things. And then maybe finish up Torchwood Season 1. And then get on Hartnell's second season. And maybe even get back to that James Bond blog where I did, like, four entries.

Or maybe I'll write this and then forget about it for another six months. But I'll finish this one, damn it!

I'd be remiss to go through the 50th Anniversary celebrations without mentioning Peter Davison's delightful The Fivish Doctors Reboot. Unfortunately, I can't do much more than mention it, because there's not much to say other than "It's really, really funny." If you're a Who fan of any kind, you have to see it.

An Adventure In Space and Time, on the other hand, I can talk about. Let's start with Mark Gatiss, the writer and more-or-less auteur here. I haven't been much of a fan of his Who scripts. While I do really like The Crimson Horror, I find most of them boringly straightforward. But that's more my taste than his skill. His writing on Sherlock is phenomenal (and, on that subject, he's far and away my favorite Mycroft Holmes ever, in a category that includes Christopher Lee, Charles Grey, Rhys Ifans, and Stephen Fry). And even the worst of his Who scripts are basically competent, and brimming with a genuine love and nostalgia for the show, both new and old.

So it's not a great surprise that Gatiss knocks this one out of the park. He deftly avoids the two major pitfalls this could have fallen into. It could easily have become a formless celebration, with lots of spectacle and cameos and references, but no actual story, or a point. And it could just have easily have gotten so carried away with its story that it didn't have the energy, or the fun, or the spectacle, and thus failed to deliver a celebratory piece of nostalgia. Gatiss nails both sides.

For most of its first half, Gatiss focuses on the mad origins of the show, which are more than entertaining enough to carry 45 minutes. Even without the evocative '60s atmosphere, the characters are full of life and color. The lead role - and the heart of the film - goes to David Bradley playing the prickly William Hartnell. Bradley (previous a vicious villain in Dinosaurs on a Spaceship) excels in the role, managing to make even Hartnell's moodiest moments human, and capturing moments of the deep soulfulness and humor Hartnell brought to the Doctor, which seemed to come directly out of himself.

Brian Cox really chameleons into Sydney Newman; Cox is always a fantastic actor, but this might be the first time I honestly wouldn't have known it was him if he wasn't in the opening credits. Cox chews the scenery to shreds, with a wit that can be crude, literary, or acerbic, as needed. Every moment he's onscreen is a delight.

If there's a disappointment, it's Jessica Raine's Verity Lambert. Raine is a good actress (as she showed memorably in Hide), and she's certainly likable as Verity, but she never exudes the "piss and vinegar" of the real Lambert, as Cox's Newman so indelicately puts it. Verity Lambert was the first female producer at the BBC, a post she earned through pluck, intelligence, creativity, and a stubborn refusal to give into any of the societal pressures she obviously faced (including the sadly too predictable rumors that she slept her way to the top). And while some of the mad genius of Doctor Who is surely due to the eccentric David Whitaker, much of it must have come from her, pushing the show to be anything and everything, sane and insane, and excel at it all. Raine comes off as a quiet, meek intellectual carefully trying not to step on anyone's toes. It's not a bad performance, as such; she plays her lines well enough, and moves through both the humor and drama effectively, but the character doesn't quite come off. Still, she's good enough not to drag the film down, and her best moments are very good.

The supporting cast is strong. Sacha Dhawan gives a nice sense of Waris Hussein's intelligence and artistry. The actors playing the actors are right on, with Jemma Powell's Jacqueline Hill getting a few especially nice moments. Reece Shearsmith gives a hint of the twinkle in Patrick Troughton's eyes during his brief appearance. And casting Nicholas Briggs (the current voice of the Daleks) as Peter Hawkins (the original voice of the Daleks) is a lovely touch.

Gatiss and director Terry McDonough effectively capture the exhilarating feeling of creativity and the horrific chaos of television production throughout the first half. I particularly love the TARDIS design basically coming about by a bunch of random office supplies getting thrown together in about 20 seconds.

Gatiss moves efficiently from the early ideas to casting Hartnell to the near-disastrous recordings of the pilot episode, leading to the series nearly being canceled out of the gates, saved only by Lambert's pluck and the lucky stroke of the Daleks' ridiculous popularity.

Gatiss and McDonough revel in the recreations of classic scenes from the early seasons, including bits of Marco Polo (one of the missing episodes), a Cyberman taking a smoke break during The Tenth Planet, and a brief bit of The Dalek Invasion of Earth that probably cost more than the BBC spent on the entire actual serial back in the day.

And right from the beginning, it's bursting with clever touches and thrilling moments. After the howlaround titles, the opening moves from an actual police box to a car, where the car's expiration date not only sets the date of the scene, but doubles as a metaphor for what the man inside the car is feeling. It's the sort of moment that could have been overplayed and eye-rolling, but McDonough plays it perfectly.

Which leads into what becomes the movie's focus - Hartnell's story. This is where Gatiss' script truly shines. He threads Hartnell's arc carefully through the first half; other than the opening scene, he's merely the first amongst the ensemble. Hartnell is an aging actor, initially unhappy with moving from films to television, and who approaches the role with a grouchy trepidation. And yet, as the show goes on, he realizes he has truly found his greatest role; beloved by children and part of a family in the production.

And then, one by one, that family of the production falls away. (It also nicely reflects the on-screen history of the show, in the way the Doctor was the lead of an ensemble for a long time before truly becoming just the lead character.) Both those in front of and behind the cameras move onto other work, including finally Verity herself leaving him feeling abandoned in his own show. It's as though he grasped his life's greatness, and then is forced to watch it slip away. Which, after all...

Hartnell: Why do things always have to change? Why can't we just go on as we are?

Verity: Life.

And so it becomes a surprisingly moving drama about the nature of life's triumphs and of legacy. It's a saavy choice on Gatiss' part; with the first half, he delivers all the nostalgic fun, letting the story gradually emerge. Ultimately, he builds to Hartnell himself reluctantly forced out of the role, and the show finding a way to move on.

And then Gatiss builds to a shamelessly sentimental conclusion. He has plenty of little references to later bits of the series peppering the dialogue (Verity telling Waris, "Brave heart, Darling."; Richard Martin noting of Hartnell, "He doesn't like farewells, does he?"), but then really shoots for the moon as Hartnell proclaims sadly, "I need more time," a moment strongly reminiscent of the Tenth Doctor's closing lines. Which leads to the concluding moment, as Hartnell meets Patrick Troughton during his final episode, then stares way off yonder...

... and sees Matt Smith standing there.

Now that's going out on a limb and trusting your audience to go right out there with you.

I don't know how that'll play, say, 20 years from now when we're watching the 17th Doctor and Smith's era is an entire generation in the past. But in the context of the 50th, it worked beautifully, and rewatching it a year later, it still works for me. It's played with absolute confidence and sincerity, and Bradley and Smith give it exactly the right silent emotion. It's a lovely conclusion, both bold and quiet in its execution, bringing genuine uplift to life's small but eternal tragedy of things ending.

Because the legacy of how you touched or changed those around you lives long past you, as do those who continue to inspire others from your example.

And sometimes that's as simple as pouring your heart into a silly TV show.

RATING:

* * * ½

• If there's one thing Gatiss misses - and the reason I didn't give this the full rating - it's the weirdness. Because those early stories were bizarre. Lambert and Whitaker (and, later, Dennis Spooner) really pushed the series in wild and different directions constantly. Here, other than a glimpse of The Web Planet, it plays only the most normal stuff. (Although, when a giant salt-shaker with a plunger for one arm and an egg-whisk deathray for the other arm is normal...) Where this really hurts the film, I think, is the lack of the more eccentric characters behind the scenes. In particular, David Whitaker (the first script editor, and writer of Edge of Destruction, The Rescue, and, later, Power... and Evil of the Daleks) basically doesn't appear at all, despite being one of the most important figures, and a particularly fascinating individual. Similarly, Delia Derbyshire, who performed the original recording of the theme through some fantastically complex electronics and gave it its unique sound, and was fairly eccentric herself, gets a single brief line.
• Perhaps that has something to do with Raine's performance. Gatiss does give Verity some good lines, but I wonder if his aversion to the weird stuff bled into the script. It may be that Verity lacks the piss and vinegar on the page, too, and its' just not noticeable because of Raine's underplaying.

Night of the Doctor

"I'm a Doctor -- but probably not the one you were expecting."

Oh yeah, forgot this blog doesn't update if I don't actually write stuff.

Night of the Doctor started off the 50th Anniversary celebration of Who with a totally unexpected bang. There was no build-up, no advertising -- just a new 6-minute video, out of the blue. No hint of what it was except the title. Seemed like it would be another prequel, albeit a longer one than usual. But while it was a sort of precursor to Day of the Doctor, its biggest impact was the sheer shock of what it was: the return of Paul McGann's Eight Doctor.

But this is very different from the chaotic, upbeat character we saw brief glimpses of in the TV Movie. McGann's take has evolved over his years on Big Finish, now honed into an intense, whimsically sarcastic figure that's fascinating. In only his first line, he makes us wish he'd had an entire television era. Moffat's always-clever dialogue is given a special edge in McGann's delivery.

"Where are we going?"
"To the back of the ship."
"Why?"
"Because the front crashes first. Think it through."

And, honestly, for a six-minute video, that would have been satisfying -- an exciting glimpse into a lost era. But Moffat then tops it off with an even more shocking moment: the Doctor brings Cass, seeming companion-to-be, Night says everything you need to know about the time war. It's hard to believe something more could be added after Tennant's hints in Journey's End about the Nightmare Child and such, but this adds something else entirely. Through all of time and space, the Time Lords became known and feared for how they fought. The universe hates them despite being the sworn enemies of the Space Nazis.
to the TARDIS to save her... and she stops, horrified. We've seen people react in all manner of wonder and astonishment and confusion with the TARDIS, but usually only monsters react with fear. Yet Cass lives in the Time War, and the mere concept of a Time Lord saving her is more dreadful than death. In a few short lines,

"Yes, I'm a Time Lord, but I'm one of the nice ones."
"Get away from me."
"Look on the bright side, I'm not a Dalek!"
"Who can tell the difference anymore?"

So Cass chooses to die. And the Doctor chooses to die with her if he can't save her. It's a beautiful moment that perfectly depicts the Doctor's heroism. Yet he does it without fanfare -- Cass isn't moved for a moment by his resolution. "Then you're going to die here. Best news all day." The ship goes down, Cass killed instantly, the Doctor mortally wounded.

On the upside, you've gotta love that modern f/x budget.

It then turns out they crash-landed on Karn, because it's been 45 seconds since the last twist. And here we get the advantage of the Eighth Doctor not having a proper era as such: his regeneration doesn't have the weight of history and expectations hanging on it. He doesn't have to go down in an epic about saving the universe; he can die in a simple spacecraft crash, and his regeneration can be dragged out over several dark, brooding minutes for a one-of-a-kind vision of one of his regenerations. It's a satisfying understanding of who the Doctor is without having to live up to years of massive stories. He can die in an epilogue, and still be that great chaotic hero in a unique way.

He also chooses to abandon heroism to end the war -- "I don't suppose there's any need for a Doctor anymore. Make me a warrior now." He falls with a line both bitter and hopeful: "Physician, heal thyself." And we get a brief glimpse of young John Hurt with the credit "as the War Doctor", a nice touch that only increased anticipation of Day of the Doctor for its last 36 hours before release.

I suppose I could make some minor complaints, though they're almost all of style; this is a brilliant script, packing tremendous power and fun into a tiny space of time. (Bigger on the inside, indeed.) Director John Hayes creates such a thick atmosphere of brooding intensity that the underlying sadness gets a little lost. Although there was likely a rights issue, it would have felt more appropriate to hear John Debney's version of the Doctor Who theme. And there's a part of me that wished it was a little more '90s style. (though the regeneration effect itself looked a little 90s-ish)

But that's all quibbling. Night of the Doctor is absolutely fantastic -- probably the singular highlight of Who's golden celebration, and the best the show had to offer in 2013. McGann finally got what he always deserved -- a properly televised, magnificently crafted crown jewel of Who.

RATING:

* * * *

SIDENOTES:

• "And introducing John Hurt..." That's funnier to me each time I watch this.
   
• A couple other exchanges I particularly loved:

"Wanted to see the Universe. Is it always like this?"
"If you're lucky."

"You have a little under four minutes [to live]."
"Four minutes? That's ages! What if I get bored, need a television, a couple of books, anyone for chess? Bring me knitting?"

The Newly Discovered Episodes (Enemy of the World and Web of Fear)

As usual, my ambitious plans to keep up with my blog have fallen through. But the news of the recovered episodes finally got me back on here.

Most of the joy from fans, I'm sure, is over The Web Of Fear, one of the most beloved Second Doctor stories, and rightly. While there the plot doesn't quite hang together if you're paying attention, the script builds the character and suspense that the endless base-under-siege stories in the Troughton era usually forget. And more importantly, director Douglas Camfield gives it tremendous atmosphere and intensity; even with only a single episode and reconstructions, it was obvious that this was terrific stuff. I can't wait to watch those.

Despite that, the one I'm really excited for is Enemy of the World. It's largely forgotten as the only story of Season 5 to lack monsters - the villain is simply human, albeit played by Patrick Troughton himself. Which is too bad, because it's one of the best Troughton stories, and with Barry Letts at the helm, I'm sure it, too, lives up to its potential. It's a brilliant script that starts as a riff on Bond flicks before taking a fantastic turn in the fourth episode and building to a knockout finish. Even on a reconstruction, it's a great yarn. But being able to actually watch it and see Troughton's Salamandar and the world Letts and Whitaker create will be something else. I'm buying and watching that this weekend, and I'll put up a review Sunday.

But this iTunes thing... yeah, that's not so hot. I've never liked iTunes - I use Winamp at home, but I've always prefered any of a dozen other music programs. The User Interface lacks flexibility. The program runs slowly, no matter how fast the computer. And the Copy Protection on its songs that made it difficult to use it with another computer program on the same computer both sucks and blows. I ultimately decided to just uninstall it. I only used it for whatever music I'd bought on iTunes over the years, and there wasn't much of that, since I prefer buying CDs. So the idea of reinstalling it wasn't exactly exciting.

Apparently iTunes feels similarly sentimental towards me. Attempting to re-download and reinstall this resulted in numerous random errors that made what should have been a straightforward task an hour-long ordeal. When I finally did get everything working, my antivirus told me that, just coincidentally, I suddenly had a virus.

iTunes is evil, I tells ya. Pure evil.

But I'm sure the episodes themselves are gonna be great, if I survive the journey of actually getting to watch them.