Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time

“You’re the first Dalek that ever got naked for me!”

It’s a brave move to start the Christmas special, where a greater number of viewers than usual are watching, many of them digesting large late lunches and just a little bit on the merry side, with “Previously on Doctor Who...” and a load of monochrome clips from 1966. But Moffat, in perhaps the last script he will ever contribute to the programme, dares to do it. Right after bringing back the Cybermen from The Tenth Planet he shows us bits of the story. Then William Hartnell morphs into an outstanding David Bradkey and, for the next hour, everything is brilliant.

There’s a lot more going on than a multi-Doctor story, of course, but it’s a joy to see one from the man who penned Time Crash. The repartee between the two Doctors is magnificent, and the running joke of the new Doctor’s admonishment of the old Doctor’s casual sexism is both nice social commentary and a nifty bit of foreshadowing. Yes, I raised an eyebrow at how the old Doctor- refusing, like the new Doctor, to renew himself- had a flicker of modern day orange regeneration energy, but some things are inevitable. But there are things to squee about- the old TARDIS, inside and out, “the Ship”. And, after all these years of Doctors with a number as a prefix, it’s great to see the Doctor again.

It’s an indulgence, perhaps, for Moffat’s old mate Mark Gatiss to be cast in his swansong, but appropriate; he excels as a man snatched from the point of death and knowing he must return. And it’s inevitable, appropriate and cleverly done that Bill should return. And the seeming enemy is linked to the Weapon Forgers of Villengard- a lovely little reference to The Doctor Dances and Moffat’s first ever story for Doctor Who. Then again, I’m tempted to see the plot resolution- there’s no real baddie, just a rather nice scheme to duplicate the Matrix on Gallifrey and ensure the memory of everyone who has ever lived is uploaded just before the point of death- as being a call back to the sort of plot Moffat used to write in the early days.

It’s nice to see the Doctors discuss their mutual fears of their impending regenerations, and it’s great to see the truly wonderful chat between Bill and the old Doctor; never mind what he was running from when he stole the TARDIS; where was he running to? The answer is that he wanted to find out why it was that good prevails, and he doesn’t understand that the reason is him, the wandering God, the perfect encapsulation of the outgoing showrunner’s philosophy.

We also get the return of an old friend from Into the Dalek, references to RTD’s old stomping ground of New Earth as a nice little tribute to Moffat’s predecessor, and of course a great big tribute to the Hartnell years to make clear that Moffat is in no doubt as to what he is; a custodian, standing on the shoulders of others, making his own huge contribution, and handing the show on to others. He’s undoubtedly a name to be spoken of on a par with Robert Holmes. If we never see him on the programme again, we shall miss him. And let us not forget the sheer personal sacrifice of dedicating seven very busy years to Doctor Who. Steven Moffat, we salute you.

There’s a nice further twist, of course- the Captain is one Archibald Hamish Lethbridge-Stewart. But then it’s on to the regeneration- with touching goodbyes from the uploaded memories of Bill, er, Nardole, and Clara, who manages to restore the Doctor’s memories. It’s a nice little update of the farewells from a Doctor’s companions prior to regeneration that was so fashionable in the ‘80s.

But the Doctor must die alone. And, ancient though he is, and weary of mourning so many friends and loved ones, he convinces himself that the universe sort of needs him and, after a brief farewell speech that owes a fair bit to Terrance Dicks he finally regenerates. The regeneration itself is awesome, but so is Peter Capaldi. Magnificent, and one of the great Doctors. And then... Jodie Whittaker gets to utter just two words and her first thirty-odd seconds are very, very Matt Smith.

Magnificent. Truly magnificent. Although I have no idea what the slightly sozzled not-we made of that...

The World's End (2013)

"What the fuck does WTF mean?"

I like Simon Pegg, Edgar Wright and Nick Frost, I really do. I loved Hot Fuzz and Paul and said so. I loved Shaun of the Dead and must blog that one day. It all amounts to a fine back catalogue. But this film... isn't really all that great. And there's not really all that much to say about it.

I mean, the plot's ok and the acting is as superb as you expect but, well, this is a film about middle age disappointment, with Gary a drunken failure wanting to relive the glories of his youth while his mates all have at least something to show for their lives at the halfway point. And... that's all this film is about. Dull and patronising themes of middle age and growing up. Even the threat- a load of robot invaders who want to enforce conformity, all naturally for our own good- is a bit meh, a kind of intergalactic parent, the man trying to hassle us. It all falls a bit flat for me. Perhaps it's because I'm a couple of years short of forty but don't really identify with any of this. As I approach middle age I've neither gone off the rails, failed to grow up not stopped being the person I've always been, and as such I don't really identify with the film's somewhat cliched message.

Mind you, it has a nice little subtext about the distressing decline of the modern pub. But that's about it.

An Adventure in Space and Time

"You can't rewrite history. Not one line."

I'm watching the rerun of An Unearthly Child on BBC 4 as I write this, with a big grin on my face. Admittedly, this is mostly because tomorrow I get to see my fiancée again after eleven long days but, blimey, what a piece of telly that was! A real tribute, and amazing, from my perspective as a fan who knows about this stuff, that a drama is being shown on BBC 2 about this of all things.

The cast is superb, but is very much led by David Bradley, who simply is Bill Hartnell. His mannerisms when playing the Doctor are perfect, and the similarities and differences with the "real" Hartnell are brilliant too: the clip of the interview with Hartnell shown after the programme, presumably a major source of research for Bradley, shows us that he nailed it; Hartnell as himself was irascible, considerably less posh, and very prickly about his status as an actor.

Mark Gatiss' script is excellent too; indeed, this sort of thing plays exactly to the strengths of the arch-nostalgic. Gatiss takes the messy, complex reality of television production and selects he people and events on which to focus. The result is a tight, focused drama with real heart. The presentation of Hartnell, in particular, is a fine line; Gatiss and Bradley don't shy in any way from his difficult side, but we can't help but like this deeply emotional man who cares deeply beneath the gruff exterior, and who delights in his unexpected popularity with children.

The script judges correctly how much to show of his rather bigoted opinions, I think, with just one quip to Waris Hussein about A Passage to India being a "one way trip" hinting at a side of Hartnell which would not much endear him to us. But there's a much greater focus on the tribulations faced by, and solidarity between, "the posh wog and the pushy Jewish bird". We first meet Verity Lambert (the excellent Jessica Raine) on an uber-trendy party straight out of Mad Men. This is her world; metropolitan, sophisticated and mostly populated by women like herself, who stop to turn on the telly to see Valentina Tereshkova do her bit for the cosmic sisterhood. The BBC, ruled by middle aged men in NHS specs who address Verity as "dear lady" is manifestly not her world, and she has to fight against its misogyny every step of the way.

Of course, Waris Hussein constantly suffers the racist digs that would have been everywhere in 1963, and can't get served at the BBC bar without Verity's help. There are also hints at his sexuality; he is doubly alienated, and not exactly the sort of person whom one would imagine getting on with Hartnell. And yet, a couple of years later, Hartnell is nostalgic for both of them, trapped in a show he loves but with familiar, friendly faces dropping away. The recreation of the speech from The Massacre may have used a little artistic licence, but it was wonderful, and as sublime a performance from Bradley here as the original was for Hartnell.

The whole thing is beautifully shot, and there are plenty of lovely touches, from the cameos by Jean Marsh, Anneke Wills, William Russell and Carole Ann Ford to the Cyberman who is allowed to puff away on a fag in his fibreglass suit by the 1963 Health and Safety bods. The many recreations- of The Daleks, The Edge of Destruction, Marco Polo, The Reign of Terror and many more are great fun. We open with the 1963 BBC ident, a lovely touch, and there are brief nods to Delia Derbyshire's work on the theme tube and Peter Brachaki's jobsworth genius on the TARDIS control room. We close with a highly appropriate cameo from Matf Smith. But this is Bradley's and Gatiss' triumph, and a triumph it surely is.

Doctor Who: Dinosaurs on a Spaceship

"Egyptian queen or not, I shall put you across my knee and spank you."

I'll admit I wasn't concentrating 100% on first viewing, but I was, er, distracted. Yes, distracted. Deliriously, wonderfully so. I'll say no more!!! Suffice to say that I've watched it again and was blown away. I haven't been as harsh on Chris Chibnall's scripts in the past as others have been, but his episodes have never been my favourites. Until now.

There's a tendency, under the present reign of the Moff, for Doctor Who to concoct episodes out off the maddest possible combinations of characters and high concepts just because it's cool. It's a high risk strategy, placing huge demands on the nuts and bolts of the script to hold it all together, but when it works, it's just brilliant. And that's what this is. The script just sings.

Yes, we have the eponymous dinosaurs on a spaceship, and the CGI is mostly convincing. But we also have Queen Nefertiti(!), an Edwardian big game hunter played by Lestrade from Sherlock, Rory's dad, played by Mark Williams of The Fast Show, and two delightfully camp robots voiced by David Mitchell and Robert Webb. Oh, and a massive beach with big skies that's actually the engine room for a spaceship. All this has got to be crammed into forty-two minutes, which is seemingly impossible. Thing is, though, it works brilliantly, and that's because of a brilliantly structured plot. Case in point: surely the opening sequence must be more crammed with stuff than any previous episode? That's some tight plotting, yet the whole thing is done with such lightness of touch, and the dialogue sparkles.

The dinosaurs are great, and cool set-pieces abound, from the Doctor, Rory and Brian riding a triceratops to Amy and Riddell shooting at raptors. The villain- essentially a pirate / banker type moral blank space- is suitably nasty, murdering a whole ship full of Silurians for a profit. Interestingly, the Doctor leaves him to die at the end, which is rather reminiscent of his treatment of Cassandra, two incarnations ago, in The End of the World. Also interesting is that, for the second episode in a row, we're reminded that the villain has no idea who the Doctor is. All traces of his existence have been erased. This is definitely leading to something…

Also interesting is the developing arc between the Doctor and the Ponds, whom he now sees only every few months. In fact, before he goes to pick them up he revealingly says that he "(hasn't) seen them for ages". Also interesting is that Amy is pointedly made to look very Doctorish when she discovers the Silurian backstory by pushing some buttons, in front of Nefertiti and Riddell, especially when she insists that "I will not have flirting companions!" Steven Moffat has been quoted as saying that companions are there as the audience's representatives, through whose eyes we see the Doctor's adventures. When he starts allowing his companions to be so clearly portrayed as Doctorish, this is definitely a harbinger of the Ponds leaving. Amy even voices to the Doctor her fear that the Doctor is visiting them less and less often, and that one day she will once again be left waiting for a raggedy Doctor who never comes.