The Times on Doctor Who
Apr. 7th, 2008 04:39 pmThe Times's TV correspondent makes some telling observations on the new series...
"As an episode of Doctor Who, the first of its latest season (BBC One, Saturday) made a pretty good Catherine Tate Show. Admittedly Tate wasn't “doing” more than one character - a plucky loser called Donna - and, admittedly, Sarah Lancashire stole the show with her impersonation of Jo Supernanny Frost, but the tone was sketch show, sketch show, sketch show, albeit one that lasted even longer than a Catherine Tate sketch. I really hoped it would end and turn out to be a spoof on behalf of charity.
Writer Russell T. Davies, the over-indulged genius who will probably end up with a knighthood for regenerating this national icon, had two large targets in his sights: the slimming industry and bossy nannies. Missing, somehow both, he fired a tranquilliser dart into the heart of Doctor Who.
There is so much right about the new Doctor. Few can doubt that David Tennant is an original incarnation of our Gallifreyan friend. The casting is impressive. The show's special effects are terrific. Indeed, if it were just that Tennant can be as annoying as a teenager with ADD, that celebs now regard a cameo on Doctor Who as they once would have an invitation on to Morecambe and Wise, and that the technical wizardry encourages the scriptwriters to blow up the universe every week, I wouldn't cavil.
My worry is that Davies has forgotten that Doctor Who's main task is to send children scuttling behind sofas while entertaining their fathers with the odd philosophical idea, the occasional classical reference, a joke or two they would probably not wish to explain and a wee bit of space totty. It is not there to explore the Doctor's sex life, labour the acceptability of male on male lip action or send up other television programmes. Most of all, it is not there to send junior chuckling to bed.
But Saturday's story was laughable: an alien plot to produce babies for intergalactic adoption by sucking the fat from overweight Brits who took diet pills whose only side effect was that the fat literally walked out of your side in the form of infants that looked like a cross between pencil erasers and the Pillsbury Doughboy. These were later beamed up to a spaceship by Miss Foster (mother, geddit?) as played by Lancashire. To compound the facetiousness, the Doctor was later observed zooming though the skies waving through the Tardis's open doors at Bernard Cribbins, who was looking at the stars through a telescope on his allotment. Let us get this straight. The Tardis materialises and dematerialises though time and space, it does not blast off, career down streets or dart between clouds. Davies is thinking of a Thunderbird.
And then there is the Catherine Tate problem. Actually, as the new assistant, she was fine and gave a toned down performance, but she is so well known for comedy that she cannot but exacerbate Davies's instinct to play the show for laughs. Even so, she had to face another dilemma, entirely of Davies's making. Because, thanks to his relationship with Rose, the Doctor is now a sexual being, every time he hires a new companion the will-they-snog question has to be resolved. Last time, Martha fancied him but he was still pining after Rose. This time Donna, it was excruciatingly explained, doesn't fancy the Doctor and the Doctor doesn't fancy her (maybe he can't get Nan out of his head). Let that be an end of it."
"As an episode of Doctor Who, the first of its latest season (BBC One, Saturday) made a pretty good Catherine Tate Show. Admittedly Tate wasn't “doing” more than one character - a plucky loser called Donna - and, admittedly, Sarah Lancashire stole the show with her impersonation of Jo Supernanny Frost, but the tone was sketch show, sketch show, sketch show, albeit one that lasted even longer than a Catherine Tate sketch. I really hoped it would end and turn out to be a spoof on behalf of charity.
Writer Russell T. Davies, the over-indulged genius who will probably end up with a knighthood for regenerating this national icon, had two large targets in his sights: the slimming industry and bossy nannies. Missing, somehow both, he fired a tranquilliser dart into the heart of Doctor Who.
There is so much right about the new Doctor. Few can doubt that David Tennant is an original incarnation of our Gallifreyan friend. The casting is impressive. The show's special effects are terrific. Indeed, if it were just that Tennant can be as annoying as a teenager with ADD, that celebs now regard a cameo on Doctor Who as they once would have an invitation on to Morecambe and Wise, and that the technical wizardry encourages the scriptwriters to blow up the universe every week, I wouldn't cavil.
My worry is that Davies has forgotten that Doctor Who's main task is to send children scuttling behind sofas while entertaining their fathers with the odd philosophical idea, the occasional classical reference, a joke or two they would probably not wish to explain and a wee bit of space totty. It is not there to explore the Doctor's sex life, labour the acceptability of male on male lip action or send up other television programmes. Most of all, it is not there to send junior chuckling to bed.
But Saturday's story was laughable: an alien plot to produce babies for intergalactic adoption by sucking the fat from overweight Brits who took diet pills whose only side effect was that the fat literally walked out of your side in the form of infants that looked like a cross between pencil erasers and the Pillsbury Doughboy. These were later beamed up to a spaceship by Miss Foster (mother, geddit?) as played by Lancashire. To compound the facetiousness, the Doctor was later observed zooming though the skies waving through the Tardis's open doors at Bernard Cribbins, who was looking at the stars through a telescope on his allotment. Let us get this straight. The Tardis materialises and dematerialises though time and space, it does not blast off, career down streets or dart between clouds. Davies is thinking of a Thunderbird.
And then there is the Catherine Tate problem. Actually, as the new assistant, she was fine and gave a toned down performance, but she is so well known for comedy that she cannot but exacerbate Davies's instinct to play the show for laughs. Even so, she had to face another dilemma, entirely of Davies's making. Because, thanks to his relationship with Rose, the Doctor is now a sexual being, every time he hires a new companion the will-they-snog question has to be resolved. Last time, Martha fancied him but he was still pining after Rose. This time Donna, it was excruciatingly explained, doesn't fancy the Doctor and the Doctor doesn't fancy her (maybe he can't get Nan out of his head). Let that be an end of it."
no subject
Date: 2008-04-07 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-07 08:30 pm (UTC)...The Guardian is also critical, from another angle.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-07 10:46 pm (UTC)* I'm agreeing with comment in The Guardian. That's not like me...
no subject
Date: 2008-04-08 08:31 am (UTC)His style tends to subjugate plot to character, and speak of a world where emotion has a direct influence on cause and effect. I thought Partners in Crime superior to Smith and Jones because I thought that its threat was contained and less gimmicky than 'let's move a hospital to the moon and have rhinocerus monsters striding about!'. I liked the Adipose, and the news on the website (based on a line cut from the transmitted episode) mthat the Shadow Proclamation have prevented them from meeting their parents so they can be brought up responsibly (a nurture, not nature, agenda, arguably rare for Doctor Who) strengthens my suspicion that a pre-school spinoff may be in the works.
I still think an introductory episode for the 'new' Donna was necessary; The Runaway Bride didn't show Catherine Tate or the character to advantage, and as anticipated (or hoped for) Donna has had extensive refashioning to make her fit for a regular place in the TARDIS.
no subject
Date: 2008-04-08 11:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-08 11:26 am (UTC)