Do You Hear Me?

I've been rewatching the Twelfth Doctor run on Doctor Who lately. I started with his first full episode, "Deep Breath", which aired in August 2014, just about ten years ago. I remember when a decade seemed like a long time, crikey.

I continued in sequence and I got to "Listen" last night. Man, that episode's so good. I usually like to watch a movie before bed because getting the sense of closure of getting to the end of a movie helps me sleep. But "Listen" is just such a neat little package that I felt sated. Unfortunately, I followed it up by playing Skyrim for a couple hours. Playing video games before bed has always been a sure way of disrupting my sleep.

But, yeah, "Listen". It's written by Steven Moffat, almost a parody of Steven Moffat. Like his Weeping Angels or Silence, it seems the Doctor is dealing with a monster that uses a basic human sensory perception in some malevolent way. The Doctor becomes obsessed with the idea of a being that has perfected the art of hiding. As he describes it for the viewer--talking to himself--the Doctor uses one of Moffat's many plays on words and phrases. If you were a master of hiding, "what would you do?" The answer is written on the chalkboard; "Listen".

It might all be a joke. Or the joke could be on us--because the fact that the monster is never truly detected could mean it's exactly as good at hiding as the Doctor thought it was. It's a nicely paranoid rumination and I like how it's woven into the personal story of Clara and Danny and then, finally, the Doctor. His and Clara's monologues on fear are nice, too.

Meanwhile, "Robot of Sherwood" is still excruciating. There are some Mark Gatiss episodes I've warmed up to but not that one. It was early in Twelve's run so I guess they weren't sure yet what him being angry all the time would mean. Him bickering with Robin Hood like a child was not a good choice.

X Sonnet #1833

A quarter night invests the ample cup.
A sudden spring defeats the winter man.
On hungry lightning storms the bolts'll sup.
Electric clouds revived the heart of Pan.
Hypnosis stretched ordeals beyond a spark.
A purple demon laughed at ev'ry fall.
In land or sea or air, the car will park.
In grass, perhaps, the super plane'll stall.
A waiting bat could not discern the door.
A metal mist conceals the absent threat.
An egg invites the mind to think of more.
Directions changed to suit the table bet.
The phony green remains as bad as junk.
Compelling fears relieve the train of bunk.