When Dalek Meets Cyberman

I seem to appreciate the Russell T. Davies era of Doctor Who a lot more than I did the first time I watched through it. I always liked it, though I generally disliked the season finales. But last night I watched the end of the Tenth Doctor's first season, "Army of Ghosts"/"Doomsday" from 2006, and loved it. Ten and Rose are so good together and I love seeing the Daleks wipe the floor with the revival era Cybermen.

Generally I prefer the classic series where the romantic chemistry between Doctor and Companion is understated if it's there at all but I've really grown to appreciate what Davies did. The revival era has often felt like commentary on the old series, something halfway between fanfiction and reinterpretation. There's much more focus on the Doctor as a character with him becoming almost a Christ figure in the Davies era while at the same time bearing the weight of his own sins. That's the kind of extreme focus you might expect from fanfiction. At the same time, Davies brings in the "domestic", an interpretation of what Doctor Who, the series, meant to a regular kid watching it growing up, and successfully transmutes it into meaningful experiences for the characters on the show.

By which I mean, it's not like the Doctor pulls clips from old episodes and asks companions to comment, or even nods and winks at the audience. Rose trying to explain to her mother how great it is to be flying around the universe instead of working in the shop is a moment that touches directly on what I mean.

Jackie, Rose's mother, is offended--"I worked in a shop, what's wrong with that?" She never had the opportunity Rose had. And Rose's point isn't that there's something wrong with a person working in shop, but there's also no sense kidding ourselves any one of us wouldn't be off in a TARDIS if we could. Admitting that is, inevitably, to admit life is fundamentally disappointing. So disappointing that most people don't want to acknowledge it. But the kind of kids who watched Doctor Who would think that way.

I felt bad for Jackie watching the episode again last night. She's so sure the ghost appearing in her flat is her deceased father. She even believes she can smell his cigars. She even taunts the Doctor a little, pleased for once to think she knows something he doesn't, but it turns out that's still not the case.

"Army of Ghosts" also has a nice moment referencing the Doctor's dislike for guns. Rose tries to stop him from leaving the TARDIS to confront a group of soldiers with rifles pointed at him:

ROSE: Doctor, they've got guns.

DOCTOR: And I haven't. Which makes me the better person, don't you think? They can shoot me dead but the moral high ground is mine.

I respect the Doctor a lot more for following his philosophy knowing full well it's impractical than in the recent season where circumstances around the Doctor are improbably rearranged to make the idea flawless. Though, in the instance in "Army of Ghosts", it is actually practical, if he has to go out and confront the soldiers at all--he'd never be able to gun them all down before they got him, the only reasonable course is to demonstrate they have no reason to shoot him.

It's strange how far the show has strayed from romance since the Davies era. Like I said, I like the classic series with its smaller focus on romance, but it's clearly a key part of what brought massive ratings to the show in the Davies era. It seems strange the show would be reverted in this regard to the format it was in when it was cancelled in 1989. Well, look, I've supplied you with another explanation for the show's decline in ratings. I suspect it's this much more than the Doctor being a woman now.

It's so bittersweet seeing Ten and Rose separated. David Tennant plays a young Doctor but you can always see the layer of experience underneath while Rose, as the dialogue about working in a shop demonstrates, feels very much like a young person feeling out her place in the universe for the first time. The 50th anniversary episode's interpretation of the Doctor becoming externally younger makes sense as a sort of psychiatric self-treatment, and his preference for younger companions would seem part of that, but it is nice watching him gradually realise there's something more genuine between him and Rose.

Twitter Sonnet #1204

Compared potatoes turn the tot to trust.
A timer burned the fries beyond the pan.
The larger spuds were painted gold and rust.
The stowaway turned out to be a yam.
Intimation surged in fortune's purse.
A slow deserving court remained to talk.
In better sleds the paintings still rehearse.
On harder snow the patients simply walk.
Encouraged stars repeat in storied lines.
As pearly dots emboss the books of sky.
A burning Braille becomes the harder signs.
The hand of God gave phones a second try.
Collected pegs create a cleat retreat.
Assorted socks will let the feet compete.

False Illumination

I remember seeing a lot of people wearing Rose Tyler's outfit from "The Idiot's Lantern" at Comic Con. A Tenth Doctor Doctor Who episode written by Mark Gatiss, it'd be hard to understand why young women would choose a costume that could really be a generic 50s outfit if you haven't seen the episode or were generally acquainted with this era of Doctor Who. Watching it again last night for the first time in years, I was struck by the unusual chemistry between Doctor and Companion. They're just so into each other, it's adorable.

She's so excited to be wearing that 50s dress; he's so excited she's so excited. She's so excited he's so excited that she's so excited. Who in their right minds would mistake this for a platonic relationship? Four and Romana were kind of like this sometimes but never to this extreme. Because David Tennant and Billie Piper are so charismatic and both are particularly good at showing unvarnished enthusiasm--without being even slightly obnoxious--their mutual appreciation is a real vicarious kick for the viewer.

He's just so dang happy to be in 1953, wow. That grin is going to split him it two.

Normally I'm not much of a fan of episodes written by Mark Gatiss but this one generally avoids his problem of writing scripts that make absolutely no sense. And the concept of televisions stealing faces from people works really well. I also like the sub-plot about the father who brags about fighting fascism in World War II only to be overbearing in his own home. The scene where his son tells him off is satisfying; "You fought against fascism, remember? People telling you how to live, who you could be friends with, who you could fall in love with. Who could live and who had to die. Don't you get it? You were fighting so that little twerps like me could do what we want, say what we want. Now you've become just like them."

Although the term "Idiot's Lantern" obviously refers to the television--apparently coming from a term writer Gareth Roberts remembers his father using--the idea of an electronic device in everyone's home that turns them into anonymous collaborators in a censorious mob certainly seems relevant to-day.

Another difference in the Russell T. Davies era from Steven Moffat's is how much more frequently people died. The episode features Ron Cook guest starring as assistant to the main villain--I'd just seen him recently playing Richard III in the great BBC Television Shakespeare series from the 80s. His role is relatively small here but I like how he's established as someone at the end of his rope financially and therefore easy prey for the malevolent spirit onscreen. Repenting near the end can't save him in the Davies era, though, however sad it might be. I also like how that fascist dad ends up not being painted as someone who deserves to be thrown away and forgotten.

Why couldn't Gatiss maintain this quality in his writing? Maybe Davies, as showrunner, generously edited the script to "Idiot's Lantern". Whoever's responsible, it's a good episode.