Tag Archives: ninth doctor

Celebrity, history and The Unquiet Dead (2005)

unquiet

Remember the celebrity historical? It used to be a thing. A real, live, it-can-be-our-second/third/fourth-episode kinda thing. Through it we met all sorts of famous dead people – Queen Victoria, Madame du Pompadour, William Shakespeare, Winston Churchill and Agatha Christie. And it starts here, with a tale of ghosts and walking cadavers with Charles Dickens in ye olde Cardiff.

It was a shrewd move by showrunner Russell T Davies to include this episode in the revamped series’ first year. Those first three episodes of his version of the show are set in the present, the future and the past respectively; a shorthand statement of what the show’s about. A historical adventure tells a new audience that this series isn’t going to be all spaceships and laser beams every week. But the inclusion of a famous historical figure, plus some alien bad guys, gives that same audience a way into these old world adventures without them feeling like they’re being subjected to some snoozy old history lesson.

It also gives the production personnel something on which they can show off their skills: period drama. Former script editor Andrew Cartmel first vocalised what had been staring viewers in the face for years – that the BBC could pull off a more convincing historical drama than a science fiction epic. Despite new Who‘s increased budget, there’s still some truth in this, plus time and money saved in recreating familiar historical sets and costumes rather than dreaming them up anew. Not to mention that a well known star playing a well known historical figure makes for great publicity.

Writer Mark Gatiss sets the template for the celebrity historical in this macabre episode. He chooses a well known historical figure, one with an inkling for the the supernatural. Charles Dickens (Simon Callow) might be a daunting figure for viewers (me included) who have never finished any of his mighty tomes (I know, I know! I’ll get to them! Right after The Doctor Who Cookbook) but he proves a prudent choice, with the Doctor (an energized Christopher Eccleston) and Rose (an energetic Billie Piper) turning up just at a point of personal existential crisis. He teams up with the our heroes, becoming a de factor companion and along the way, his life is changed for the better by the experience. It’s a pattern which holds more or less up until and including Vincent and the Doctor.

Then things change. With The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon, where Richard Nixon, who under the old template for celebrity historicals might have been expected to be the episode’s focus, but now becomes just a notable supporting character. In their respective episodes, Queens Nefertiti of Egypt and Elizabeth I of England are similarly exotic side dishes, not the main meal. By the time we get to Peter Capaldi’s era, the celebrity historical has been dropped altogether. Clara makes do with sly references to her flirty adventures with Jane Austen. That name dropping’s enough; we don’t need to see the Doctor meet another historical British writer. We’ve been there done that.

(Thank Rassilon. I can’t stand Austen. A Doctor Who encounter with her sounds awful. It’d be called Time and Temerity, or Space and Speciousness or something. Clara would be proposed to by some alien dressed up in period costume, via a series of letters delivered by horse and cart and everything would take weeks. Yawn. Unless it was a Blackadder inspired version where Jane Austen turns out to be “a huge Yorkshireman with a beard like a rhododendron bush”. Yes, I’d watch that.)

So now the celebrity historical, once a mainstay of any Doctor Who season is out of vogue. No doubt famous people from history will continue to turn up, but more episodes showcasing any given figure of history seems unlikely. It’s a shame, because having our heroes rub shoulders with someone we know from history is one of those uniquely Doctor Who ideas. And it’s been with the show since its earliest years, where we met Marco Polo, Nero, Richard I and Doc Holliday. If you squint, it even stays true to the show’s original remit to be slightly educational. The Unquiet Dead, for instance, manages to trickle out an abbreviated biography of Dickens and his work.

Still, it’s fun to fill in future fantasy seasons with celebrity historicals which still one day might come to pass. Oscar Wilde’s episode would riff on The Picture of Dorian Gray.  That other OW, Orson Wells already has one in Big Finish’s universe – by Mark Gatiss, no less – which could be adapted. Sylvester McCoy’s suggestion of the Doctor meeting Richard III could finally come to fruition. What about JFK, given his and the show’s association with November 1963? Galileo? Da Vinci? The Beatles? Surely we can’t let Timelash be the definitive Doctor Who appearance by HG Wells. Nor let Einstein be claimed by the ignominious Time and the Rani.

As for the story itself, it’s pleasingly creepy, with enough black humour in it to recall more than a few camp, schlocky horror films. Its gleefully brash use of walking cadavers as monsters is stronger stuff than the show eventual settled into; to this day Mrs Spandrell can’t get past the opening pre-credit sequence with old Mrs Peace (Jennifer Hill) stumbling through the streets, howling. It strays into interesting moral territory when the Doctor finds virtue in the Gelth’s alleged plan to inhabit the bodies of human dead to save their species, and Rose is opposed to the idea. But the last minute u-turn of the Gelth into treacherous invaders neutralizes that debate which might have lead the story to something other than a “it’s time to stop the monsters now” kind of ending.

Truth be told, as good as The Unquiet Dead is, nearly all its tricks – be they ghost stories, Victoriana or zombified monsters – have been done better by later stories. Its lasting claim to fame is showing us how these celebrity historicals work and inventing a new sub-genre for 21st century Who. If they really have gone forever, then that’s its legacy – creating a Who specific subset right up there with ‘base under siege’, ‘pseudo-historical’ and ‘multi-Doctor’.

But if they ever come back, I’ve still got my list of candidates: Michelangelo, Louis Pasteur, Elvis, even Mrs Malaprop… sorry, that’s Time and the Rani again. It sneaks in everywhere!

LINK TO Into the Dalek: uncertainty about whether the monsters are good or evil.

NEXT TIME… well, he didn’t come by Shetland pony, Jamie! We defrost The Ice Warriors

 

 

Goosesteps, quicksteps and The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (2005)

empty-child

I’m thinking of a Doctor Who DVD box set – the World War II stories. It consists of Let’s Kill Hitler, The Doctor, The Widow & the Wardrobe (the first bit), The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, The Doctor, The Widow & the Wardrobe (the rest of it), Victory of the Daleks and The Curse of Fenric. It could come in a special edition gas mask shaped tin. You could press a button and hear it say, ‘are you my Mummy?’ It would fly off the shelves like a Lancaster bomber or maybe float off gently like a barrage balloon.

Why has World War II proven such fertile ground in which to grow Doctor Who, particularly as conceived by Steven Moffat? On the face of it, it’s subject matter which should be too edgy for the series. Perhaps it’s because the two have long been connected.

When Doctor Who started, it was 18 years since the war had ended. Its influence was still being felt; in the series’ initial conception, you’ll recall, the Doctor was fleeing from a galactic war. The first Dalek story references the Nazis heavily, and the second imagines Britain overrun with fascist invaders. Even The doddery old Sensorites is a story of soldiers left behind, fighting a war long since over.

And when the show returned to 1963 for Remembrance of the Daleks, characters like Ratcliffe and Harry recalled the war; the novelisation has Rachel Jensen remembering surviving the blitz. So the genesis of this show is linked to the war, and to British pride of triumphing against overwhelming odds. In The Empty Child, the Doctor (U-boat captain Christopher Eccleston) gives voice to this pride:

Right now, not very far from here, the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it. Nothing. Until one, tiny, damp little island says no. No. Not here. A mouse in front of a lion. You’re amazing, the lot of you. Don’t know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me.

William Hartnell’s Doctor never did end up running from that mysterious alien war, but Eccleston’s Doctor did. It’s odd that of all the stories in that first year of rejuvenated Who, this one, set in a war so close to the series’ home, is the one that dwells on the time war the least. Not at all in fact, even though our war veteran Doctor is smack in the middle of events which should feel grimly familiar. But that’s because cosmic angst is not on Moffat’s agenda.

No, he wants to scare children and get the Doctor laid.

***

The first part of that he does with consummate style. He begins with a haunting image: a five year old boy in a gas mask. This boy terrifies those around him, but his plaintiff cries resonate with any adult who has half a heart: ‘Please let me in, Mummy. I’m scared of the bombs’. Who wouldn’t want to embrace that child, take him in, make him safe?

But touching this boy is the one thing you can’t do. It’s the next of Moffat’s steps towards creating something really creepy. Touch the boy and you don’t quite die, but your life is emptied out of you. The next thing you know a gas mask is forcing its way up your throat and then your face becomes the gas mask. A physical amalgamation of flesh and object. There’s never been anything quite like it in Doctor Who.

His final trick is to set it in the Blitz, where death could fall from the sky at a moment’s notice. The characters we meet are already living under incredible stress. They’re permanently scared and hungry and under siege from an enemy they can’t protect themselves from. The threat represented by the empty child is not that dissimilar from that brought by the Germans, though far more insidious.

From there on in, Moffat pulls the familiar tricks to bring the scares: you’re surrounded by them, don’t let them touch you, you think you’re safe but you’re not, time’s running out and it’s actually in the room with you. Those are standard narrative driven frights, brought to life by James Hawes’ vivid direction. But they are the symptoms, not the cause of this terror. The cause is those bold, unsettling concepts: a boy in a gas mask, a mask that eats your face, death calling at any time and you with no defence.

***

Moffat ignores the time war. But this first series’ other major obsession, the burgeoning relationship between the Doctor and Rose (Billie Piper), is front and centre. Earlier in the season, wannabe companion Adam Mitchell had been introduced to throw a gooseberry at the Doctor and Rose’s quietly developing romance. But he proved no contest. In the previous episode, Father’s Day,  Rose wondered, ‘Why does everyone think we’re a couple?’ Well, because you constantly act like one, I suppose.

Moffat introduces a new competitor for Rose’s affections, and this one’s a contender: tall, dark and handsome, plus he’s got his own spaceship. Captain Jack (John Barrowman) will become very familiar to us in future years and his omnisexual appetite will become one of his defining characteristics. But here he’s the Doctor’s rival and Rose feels an immediate attraction to him. It’s clear the Doctor’s going to have to lift his game.

There can only be one winner. But Jack eventually retreats to his spaceship, shamefully realising his responsibility in bringing the Chula nanogenes to Earth. The Doctor solves the problem at hand, by a combination of luck and smarts, and brings everyone back to life. There’s no contest between these two, in the end. ‘I’m on fire!’ he roars in triumph as the story comes to close.

So of course he gets the girl. And they end up dancing joyously around the console room in celebration. For the first time, we see dancing presented as a metaphor for sex, so it’s hard to see that hop as anything but a hugely enjoyable post-match shag. It’s even in the title: The Doctor Dances.  Well, perhaps it would have been a step too far to call it The Doctor Loses his Cherry.

Hey, maybe there’s another potential boxset here: the (ahem) Dancing Stories. It would go The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, The Girl in the Fireplace… and um, does the Drunk Giraffe count?

LINK TO Planet of the Dead. Both have Captains.

ADVENTURES IN SUBTITLING: a howler when during the performance of ‘It had to be you’ when the lyrics ‘with all your faults, I love you still’ becomes ‘when I uphold silence still’. Um, what?

NEXT TIME: It’s time to step out on the balcony and wave a tentacle at Terror of the Zygons.

Bouquets, Botcherbies and Father’s Day (2005)

fathers

The last time I randomed a story by Paul Cornell, I speculated on which Doctor Who stories contained each Doctor’s best performances. The equivalent of awarding Oscars for Doctors. 2005 weepy Father’s Day gives me the chance to offer a (ahem) companion piece.

Which companions would we give Oscars too? Actually, maybe we should call them Botcherbies, after Doctor Who‘s own thespian Oscar from The Two Doctors. And then we won’t be infringing any trademarks.

(This reminds me of one of my favourite passages from Robert Holmes’ masterful novelisation of that story, where Oscar recounts that a critic of the Boston Globe said that one of his performances was ‘quite monumental’, but then added ‘in its ineptitude’. That’s apropos of nothing. I just love that book.)

This episode, carefully plotted and expertly directed, is heartbreaking and there’s not many Doctor Who stories you can say that about it. Billie Piper seizes the opportunity to reveal a vulnerability in Rose, and in doing so gives her best performance in the role. This script asks a lot of her – to show delight turning to disillusionment and the sheer raw grief of losing a parent –  and there isn’t a moment when her performance feels false or pushed too far. She’s outstanding.

So a Botcherby nod for Piper. Who else should we dish out nominations to? With the caveat that not every companion gets the chance to star in an episode like Father’s Day, where the plot revolves around them. It’s pretty hard, for instance, to pinpoint a standout performance for Louise Jameson. Even though she was excellent as Leela in all her stories, she was never given a story which focused on her character and gave her a chance to show what she could do. We could say that about many a companion, hopefully without causing offence by omission.

When a companion gets an episode which concentrates on them, there’s a chance to outshine even the Doctor. Catherine Tate in Turn Left is a spectacular example. Few would have guessed after her debut performance in The Runaway Bride that the character of Donna could generate the gravitas needed to have her be our guide through post-apocalyptic England. Tate nails it, being brave and scared, embarking on a suicide mission to the past to save the future. Out of the combination of comic character and harrowing setting, something truly touching emerges.

Classic Who gave its companions fewer chances to hog the limelight. Some had to wait until their encore performances to offer they’re best work. I love Nicholas Courtney’s performance in Mawdryn Undead, which gives us more of an insight into the Brigadier than we had in seven years of UNIT stories. Here, he gives us two versions of the same character, and makes them both instantly recognisable through body movement and demeanor. For the first time, we see the deleterious effects of being part of the Doctor’s retinue, and in the Brigadier’s case it’s a taste of post traumatic stress disorder. One of my favorites.

Years later, Elisabeth Sladen would get the chance to give a similar character reading in School Reunion, and she also manages expresses the loss and longing of life without the Doctor, despite the script’s tiresome efforts to whip up Doctor jealousy between her and Rose. It’s a touching performance, but for me her Botcherby worthy turn lies in the classic series, specifically in The Hand of Fear. Her ‘possessed’ acting in that story is particularly eerie but of course, it’s those last few scenes when she’s leaving the Doctor that her greatness is really on show: funny, sad and so clearly expressing so much which is unsaid, it alone is worth the price of admission.

The 1960s episodes don’t give our companion friends much to work with, as this was an era which paid their roles little consistent attention, but how about Jacqueline Hill in The Aztecs? It’s those scenes with Tlotoxl that I’m thinking of, showing Barbara’s inner strength and poise during her combative moments, but also her deep insecurity when she falters. To pinpoint one moment when she shines, how about when she takes a knife to Tlotoxl’s throat to save Ian? A desperate and surprisingly violent move which a few stories earlier, might have belonged to the Doctor. If we could see  The Massacre of St. Bartholemew’s Eve, we might be able to properly assess Peter Purves in a similar set of circumstances as Steven. But otherwise, the black and white era offers little else in the way of Botcherby worthy companion turns.

Janet Fielding’s performances as the Mara possessed Tegan in Kinda and Snakedance have rightly been praised. On first glance, you might say that Snakedance, which contains the most screen time for evil Tegan, is the Botcherby worthy one. But while the sequel offers greater scope, the original packs the harder punch. Fielding’s performance first as the terrified girl being tormented by an unknown demon in Part One, then as the Mara infested version in Part Two are both palpable and real, and must have been a huge factor in commissioning a sequel. It’s even more of an achievement when you consider she’s left unconscious for the whole of Part Three and returns to her normal state in Part Four, so the considerable impact of that role is achieved in a very short time.

There’s one example of a companion’s best performance being outside Doctor Who. Captain Jack Harkness, of course, has his own show, Torchwood. John Barrowman gives some impressive performances in each series, but it’s the third, Torchwood: Children of Earth which really stands out. Here, Jack is put through an emotional wringer, losing his lover in his attempts to save the world, and ultimately sacrificing the life of his grandson to do so, and atone for the sins of his past. It’s a storyline which Doctor Who could never offer the Doctor, let alone a companion, but in Torchwood, Barrowman gets his chance to show what he can do.

A couple of others kicking around: Sophie Aldred showing us Ace growing up and discovering her inner animal in Survival. Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill giving their all in their tear jerking finale The Angels Take Manhattan. Alex Kingston, never better perhaps than on debut in Silence in the Library.  And in Human Nature/The Family of Blood, the story which started this whole thread, I suggested David Tennant gave his Botcherby best, but we shouldn’t overlook Freema Agyeman, who beautifully played lost, desperate, determined and in love all at once.

What have I forgotten? Best turns by companions or Doctors? Comment away, faithful readers. Then let’s start planning the after party.

LINK TO The Mark of the Rani: hmmm. How about both feature companions with dead fathers?

NEXT TIME: You’re too short and bossy, and your nose is all funny. Add the Cybermen and we really do have a Nightmare in Silver.

Eccleston, explanations and The End of the World (2005)

endworld1

There’s something about rewatching Christopher Eccleston’s episodes of Doctor Who which takes me right back to 2005. No other series of the show has so potent a transporting effect. I think, as I’ve alluded to before, watching the show be so successfully revived in 2005 was a unique thrill. It was a great time to be a fan. It was a time for rejoicing.

But just before the broadcast of the second new series episode, The End of the World, we got our first sense of there being trouble in paradise. The BBC announced that Eccleston would be leaving the series after its first year. Then it was revealed that the BBC’s statement was falsely attributed to Eccleston, and that they had broken an agreement to stay quiet on the length of his tenure. All in all, it seemed that this happy show had an unhappy leading man.

Ever since then, and to this day, there has been speculation about why Eccleston left. He doesn’t say much about it, but when promoting the many other projects he’s tackled post-Who, he inevitably gets asked about it. What he does say is short, guarded but tantalizing. He didn’t see eye to eye with the production team. He didn’t like the culture of the show. He didn’t like the way cast and crew were treated. And most recently he gave the clearest indication yet of the internal conflict which lead to his departure. In an interview on BBC Radio 4 with Emma Freud he said:

“Myself and three individuals at the very top of the pyramid clashed, so off I went. But they are are not here to say their side of it, so I’m not going to go into details.”

Whatever the circumstances, it’s easy to sympathise with Eccleston. Many of us have had difficult, unpleasant or simply bad jobs which we’ve left which various degrees of acrimony. Few of us will be asked time and time again about the circumstances of those jobs years after we’ve left them. Even fewer of us will have to do so in public fora. And Eccleston probably wants to talk about his more recent work and leave the past behind. Sadly, public interest in Doctor Who just isn’t going to let him.

Doctor Who fans are used to reticence from some of those who worked to the show to discuss it publicly. Tom Baker, Janet Fielding, Paul McGann and Peter Purves were among those who had long periods where they wouldn’t talk about the show. Script editors Andrew Cartmel and Eric Saward stayed similarly quiet for a long time. Eventually, they relented and opened up about their time on the show, often addressing the difficult circumstances which prevented them from talking freely about it before.

And for long term fans, Eccleston’s silence may feel like one of these temporary hiatuses, which will hopefully end one day and he’ll embrace discussing the show. It may not, but it seems to me like he’s going to be dogged by questions about his departure at every launch and talk and press conference until he opens up more fully. Seeking out an interviewer with a sober, balanced approach – probably from Doctor Who Magazine, I suspect – and telling his story in a controlled manner, may well be the only way to stem the tide.

Also on BBC 4, he said:

“I think I over pitched the comedy. If I had my time again I would do the comedy very differently. But I think, where I possibly succeeded was in the tortured stuff.”

I agree with him about “the tortured stuff”. He’s famous for it, he could be tortured for England. Of course he’s going to do that well. But I think the lighter side of his Doctor is also on display and Eccleston manages these nicely. In The End of the World, there’s the moment where he gives the various alien thrillseekers gathered to watch Earth’s fiery demise the gift of air from his lungs. There’s also when he grooves out to Soft Cell and when he warns Rose about the size of her phone bill. I’d say when he gets a comic moment to play, he plays it adeptly.

And throughout this first year, he’ll find various opportunities to crack that goofy grin and go for the laugh. Personally I’ve always liked the ‘passing the port’ routine in World War Three. And he’s funny chasing down Margaret Slitheen in Boom Town. And, as might be expected in a Steven Moffat script, he gets plenty of smart one liners in The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances. If he’s not as fed as many of these funny moments, it could be that the Doctor’s angst is one of this season’s key themes. What would have happened, I wonder, if he’d stayed for another year? Might there have been more of a chance to build on his Doctor’s sense of humour?

For me though, it’s not the mix of comedy and gravitas which makes the ninth Doctor stand out. All the Doctors have those qualities to various extents. What marks Eccleston’s Doctor as unique is his variation from the Doctorly norm. Think of the Doctors who followed him, Tennant and Smith. Each are much more traditionally Doctorly: charming, witty, leisurely charismatic. Eccleston though is the very opposite of frock coated familiarity. His leather jacket, short cropped hair, Northern accented Doctor feels like something new and dangerous. He fits no standard Doctorly type. He talks and dresses like a human but his opinions and reactions are alien. He’s like no Doctor before or since.

It’s this uniqueness which leaves us wanting more than one season of this Doctor, not how he played the comedy or the drama. And it’s also why we’d love to know more about why Eccleston didn’t want to stay on our favourite show. Us fans, we’re like nervous hosts and Doctor Who is like a grand house party we’re throwing. We hate to think anyone’s not having a good time, let alone our a-list guests.

“Everything has its time and everything dies,” the Doctor says in this episode. This proves as true for this incarnation as for the stretched canvas which is Lady Cassandra (Zoe Wanamaker) or for the doomed Earth itself. One day perhaps, Eccleston might tell us why.

ADVENTURES IN SUBTITLING: The Adherents of the Repeated Meme and renamed “the Adherents of the Repeated Mean”. Which makes no sense of course when the Doctor says a repeated meme is just an idea. And the Moxx of Balhoon’s Bad Wolf scenario becomes a ‘bad move scenario’. Which, given this phrase’s importance in Series One, is unfortunate.

SACRIFICIAL BLAM! Or rather burn, when Jabe the Tree (Yasmin Bannerman) catches light.

LINK to Black Orchid. Both feature “Ladies”: Cranleigh and Cassandra.

NEXT TIME… Don’t turn your back, don’t look away and don’t Blink.

The Monster, the Doctor and Dalek (2005)

dalek

We are so used to Doctor Who these days. We get new episodes every year and a special at Christmas. We’ve had eight series and over 100 new episodes. We take it for granted that every year there’ll be more of it. But it wasn’t always the case.

Back in 2005, each new episode was a miracle. Everyone had thought Doctor Who was dead. The idea that it might come back was only a dream. The news that it was coming back for a 13 episode series on BBC1 was almost unbelievable. Then on top of all that it turned out to be good…  Well, to steal a word from Christopher Eccleston’s Doctor, it was fantastic. Meaning it was like a fantasy.

Episode 6 in that joyous run is Dalek. Cunningly held back to counter any mid season slide in ratings, this was an event within the bigger event of the show’s return. And while the other episodes had been good,  I distinctly remember watching this on broadcast and thinking this was where it really felt like the series was clicking. If it weren’t for those gas mask zombies, it would surely be the stand out episode of that first year of Doctor Who‘s revival. Perhaps it still is.

Its job was to reintroduce the Daleks as an integral part of the series iconography, to an audience who had not given a flying Thal about them for about twenty years. Who didn’t even know them, unless they had seen them as the butt of jokes on TV ads and sketch shows. It pulls off this trick by concentrating on just one Dalek, running amok in a billionaire tyrant’s underground headquarters. And look, we all want this for Murdoch, but that’s not the point.

No, the point is that it does it methodically and effectively; it drip feeds information about the Dalek, gradually revealing its powers, confounding expectations about its limitations, so that by the end of the episode, they are firmly established as big metal badasses. In the season finale, there’s a moment when Rose acknowledges a job well done in this episode when she says, ‘There’s thousands of them now. We could hardly stop one. What’re we going to do?’. We know what she means because the Dalek in Dalek is so formidable.

But I think the really clever thing this episode does is the role reversal between the Doctor and the monster.

We’re used to having villains presented as a dark mirror of the Doctor. In fact that might be essential to any hero/villain relationship. Anyway, you can list them off by heart. The Master, Davros, the Valeyard… but even comparatively b-list villains, like Borusa or Professor Lazarus to choose two random examples, are always there for us to compare to the Doctor.

To directly compare the Doctor to a monster is rarer, but that’s what Dalek does, through role reversal. The Doctor for instance, played with saliva propelling emotion by Eccleston, behaves in a very un-Doctorly way. Upon first discovering the Dalek, the Doctor does not do any of his normal tricks. He doesn’t negotiate or befriend or cajole. He just tries to exterminate it. The first instinct of a Dalek.

The Dalek meanwhile demonstrates its Doctory ingenuity at every turn. It absorbs energy from Rose and escapes by tricking its enemies into a false sense of security before suckering their faces. Its next step is to absorb information. ‘The Dalek’s a genius,’ the Doctor warns. So just like him then, but murderous. Oh, he’s that too now.

For the rest of the episode, the Doctor is largely impotent. He can merely react to what Dalek does. It’s his own tactic turned against him. While the Dalek methodically climbs the levels of Van Statten’s space museum, countering every attempt to destroy it with silent determination, the Doctor’s reduced to tapping on a laptop, shutting bulkheads by remote control.

This culminates in a famous scene where the Dalek chooses to destroys a room full of soldiers by setting the sprinkler system off and electrocuting them with one zappy shot. It’s interesting because there’s no plot reason for it to show such an innovative approach to death; we all know it could just pick off those guards one by one. It chooses the showy way of killing, presumably as a display of strength and to terrify any onlookers. It certainly seems to work on the Doctor, who ends up bawling at the screen, like a showrunner who’s reading on doctorwhonews.net that his season premiere has been leaked online: ‘why can’t you just DIE?!’ But this is surely the Doctor’s modus operandi: come up with a clever solution which not only does the job but underlines your point.

The Dalek gets a bad dose of mercy from being touched by Rose, meaning it thinks twice before exterminating all and sundry. But it also uses Rose as a hostage, manipulating the Doctor’s emotions by threatening to kill her so that he will open a bulkhead (cue more laptop tapping). Now that in itself is not overly Doctor-esque, but when it says “What use are emotions if you will not save the woman you love?” its awkward lack of familiarity with human relationships sounds a bit like someone else we know.

By episode’s end, the Dalek has used guile and intelligence to work its way to freedom, and stands at the finale with the spunky girl by its side. The Doctor on the other hand has resorted to wielding a big gun. Rose says to him, ‘What the hell are you changing into?’ making the implied point explicit. As it turns out, the story’s conclusion has very little to do with him. The Dalek commits suicide with Rose’s consent, while the Doctor is reduced to a bystander. In a strange way, the Dalek has won, while the Doctor has failed at every turn.

We’re so used to Doctor Who these days, but back when we had just 13 episodes of new Who, this one felt like a keeper. It does its job. It brings back the Daleks. But it also forces us to look at the Doctor in a new light. And that’s an astonishingly confident move only 6 episodes in.

‘You would make a good Dalek’ the monster tells the Doctor. He could at least be polite enough to repay the compliment.

LINK to Silver Nemesis. Because there’s a Cyberman’s head on display in Van Statten’s museum, this is the first time we’ve seen one since Silver Nemesis. Unless you count Dimensions in Time, and if you do, god help you.

NEXT TIME: Are you picking your nose? More bubbling lumps of hate in Revelation of the Daleks