This will probably be my last one of these, as it's the last series of four stories I can write about. Have I left the best till last?
Season 23 was one long 14-part Doctor Who story, The Trial of A Time Lord, where - surprise surprise - The Doctor was put on trial for his life. But it was split into several sections or 'stories', by several writers, and so these were all adapted as separate books (albeit branded with a Trial of A Time Lord cover flash). So we've got:
The Mysterious Planet, by Terrance Dicks
Mindwarp, by Philip Martin
Terror of The Vervoids, by Pip & Jane Baker
The Ultimate Foe, by Pip & Jane Baker
They weren't published together, or in story order either. But the real shame is that there's no editorial continuity, so each book exists both as an individual entity in its own right and yet still attempts to be part of the larger whole story.
But is that a bad thing, and does it work?
First up, but published second, is The Mysterious Planet, written by Robert Holmes and adapted by Terrance Dicks. This was a pretty flat and unremarkable four episodes on TV but I think it suits the page much better. This is Terrance Dicks' only Sixth Doctor adaptation and there's a real sense that he's relished the challenge and also that he very much respects Holmes' script. Holmes had died by this point, so perhaps for Dicks this was a kind of personal tribute. It suits the length (127 pages) and it's a pleasant, relaxed read that trundles along nicely. It sets the scene for the Trial well enough at the beginning, pitching the menage a trois inter-play between The Doctor, The Valeyard and The Inquisitor, and some of the dramatic high points that appear forced on TV are much easier to stomach on the page. It's an exceptionally verbal and witty script in places, and this comes across very effectively in Dicks' novelisation. For example Glitz and Dibber have a habit of talking about what they're doing or going to do, rather than just getting on and doing it - in a sort of witty self-promotional commentary. Whereas this can be frustrating on TV it suits the prose medium much better. Merdeen's duality also sits more comfortably on the page, giving us access to his thoughts, and there's more of a sense of Drathro's purpose and problem - the robot actually creates pathos at times! This is a great start to the season and Dicks has brought years of experience to a deceptively simple and unpretentious read.
Next up, but published last, is Mindwarp by Philip Martin. Again this was a great read, with a slightly longer page count (142 pages) and some effective development of the TV script in places. We now have Zon, Keeper of the Record of Time activating the Matrix screen and running the evidence, not the Valeyard himself. Mindwarp is a very uncomfortable story, with an unpleasant job to do - no less the case on the page than on the screen. This is possibly the adaptation where the story itself and its part within the Trial are most at odds. In the Trial we have to join the story when it's already underway, because it's being presented as evidence. The Doctor tells Peri (us, effectively) at the start that he's actively following up a mystery over arms supplies. The novelisation follows this, but there wouldn't be anything stopping Martin from adding a prologue chapter outlining the action we've missed. After all, he gives us an epilogue offering a (far more plausible) alternative 'happy' ending to Peri's story than the TV version did. Mindwarp is a very colourful, visual TV story and it's to Martin's credit that the novelisation also feels the same. It could be argued that there's too much going on; Sil, having dominated Vengeance On Varos the previous season, is a bit lost within the mix here and is reduced to a comedic supporting role, which is a shame. But since the story is so unpleasant the comedy is necessary to try to balance it. However, nothing can balance the horror of The Doctor abandoning Peri and allowing her to be operated on: it is the ultimate failure from the hero who fought death itself to save her from an infection just after they met.
The Trial scenes, inter-cutting the main action, are often lumpy and graceless as The Doctor rants and makes childish gibes at The Valeyard but this is as much symptomatic of the length of the Trial story as much as any failings by the writer. Needless to say Zon, Keeper of the Record of Time does not appear again after this book.
Despite the unpleasant storyline this is a great read that rattles along with pace and energy and occasionally wit, like The Mysterious Planet.
Third in line, but published first, is the case for the defence:Terror of The Vervoids, by Pip & Jane Baker. I was wary of this book, following my experiences last year with their Time And The Rani novelisation which was without equal the worst, most patronising Target book I've read. I managed to keep a relatively open mind, though, and I'm glad I did because this was another enjoyable read. Three out of three so far.
A trial is not necessarily the best setting for a Doctor Who story if evidence is being presented and you're trying to tell a story at the same time without giving everything away to the reader early on when some detail is challenged. That happens at least once here, where the Doctor has to answer 'the murderer', rather than giving the character's name. The Bakers do allow a moment for The Inquisitor to reveal that she's interested in the mystery being played out on the Matrix screen but there's definitely artistic licence being shown throughout all these books so far in that respect. There's an interesting attempt by the authors to treat this as a proper murder mystery novel, as well, with occasional comments from an omniscient narrator, and this adds to the charm and the readability of the book - particularly when building Professor Lasky's background just before her death. At 144 pages it's the longest of the four novelisations, and like its two predecessors it's an often unchallenging and fun read, with only occasional moments of verbal diarrhoea over the scientists and the specialist subjects of their studies.
What is a shame, and it's difficult to pinpoint if this is the fault of the Bakers or producer John Nathan-Turner who 'created' the character, is that Mel Bush only comes across as a cipher and never as a proper believable character. She is whatever the situation requires her to be and spurts words in a way that no one would ever naturally speak. Little character traits are shoe-horned in and accompanied with brief, clumsy explanations just so the audience knows. Fortunately this doesn't ruin the book because the Sixth Doctor is possibly the best he's ever been on the Hyperion III: wonderfully understated, calm and at times scheming. Unfortunately this cannot describe the courtroom sequences which continue to break up the story without feeling that they add much to the over-arching story. Regardless, at this point I'd have welcomed a volume that combined all three books and told the whole story (moving the Mindwarp Epilogue to the very end, of course).
With only two episodes left, it couldn't all go wrong with the final book The Ultimate Foe could it? This was the third of the four books to be published, and it's well known amongst fandom what a tortured birth the story had. The novelisation is again by Pip & Jane Baker, although the first half of the story (episode 13 of Trial) was written by the ailing Robert Holmes and script editor Eric Saward. Saward then had a falling out with producer JN-T and withdrew his episode 14 script. So the producer had to bring in another writer to try to finish the story in a different way to what Holmes & Saward had planned, but using the same characters and sets. Having been reliable in the recent past JN-T brought in eccentric Bakers who did their best to pick up from the episode 13 cliff hanger and bring things to a happy conclusion in a way that met JN-T's wishes. Tough call.
Having had such a messy conception what The Ultimate Foe really needs is a completely different writer to adapt it as a novel, someone who can look at it all dispassionately and even it out. I'm reminded of Terrance Dicks novelising Season 7's The Ambassadors of Death, rather than David Whittaker or Malcolm Hulke who were too close to the pain of it. But we don't get that here. Terrance Dicks would have been the obvious choice too. No, instead we get the Bakers practically crucifying Holmes and Saward's work, which takes up about a third of the 126 page book, before developing their own ending which met JN-T's requirement and resolves everything happily.
The story can't help but feel uneven, but is it any good? Terror of The Vervoids leaves us with a cliff hanger, where The Doctor is charged with genocide. Then lots of things happen at the beginning of The Ultimate Foe - probably too many things. The Master appears in the Matrix having the time of his life, The Valeyard is revealed to be a future evil incarnation of The Doctor, Mel and Glitz are transported to the Courtroom to help The Doctor and things suddenly move inside the Matrix, recalling 1976's The Deadly Assassin. It all sounds a bit nuts really. Sabalom Glitz was previously a strong, proactive character in The Mysterious Planet, with a dim side-kick. Here, solo, he becomes a comedy stooge both for The Doctor and The Master. Mel is served no better as a character here than she was in Terror of The Vervoids. Even worse for her, as she's officially the new companion, Glitz is taken into the Matrix by The Doctor to help him with the main action leaving her standing around looking up The Master's nose on the Matrix screen. It's all a bit of a mess and it's not clear what The Valeyard is looking to achieve from hiding away in the Matrix.
Unenviably, the Bakers pick up this mess but their solution is to throw a dictionary at it while the characters wander around for pages not really doing anything and continually avoiding each other so they can spurt ridiculous dialogue. They have a lot to squeeze in - except they don't in fairness; it's virtually all padding, going nowhere and explaining nothing. It could all have been a lot simpler and the ending much less hurried but they procrastinate and prevaricate and it all gets very rushed at the end which is not to the story's benefit.
A word of advice to P&J from an experienced reader from a young age: there is a difference between educating or inspiring young people to improve their vocabulary through an entertaining read, and an author coming across as being utterly pretentious and conceited. That's how the Bakers appear here, with their attempts at minimal word count but maximum syllable count. I could cope with thremmatologists and agronomists in Terror of the Vervoids, even The Mark of The Rani's 'apposite epithets', but The Ultimate Foe takes this to a whole new level and the bottom line is that nobody speaks that way in real life, or in the established worlds of Doctor Who up to that point or since! Such is their quest for long or silly words to try to confuse the readers with, and increase dictionary sales, that they give us a 'megabyte modem' which The Valeyard is using inside the Matrix to try to assassinate the Courtroom jury - presumably he's going to shock them with the disgraceful images he's downloading off the Internet. Hmmm.
It's not as bad a read as Time And The Rani, but it's still a shame because up to now the books detailing The Trial of A Time Lord have been really enjoyable. Unfortunately this final instalment is just a wordy mess and is a really unsatisfactory conclusion.
Perhaps it's because this season came at a time of (and as a result of) massive upheaval for the TV series, or perhaps there wasn't a procedure of heavy editorial involvement in the Target range at the time, but for four linked books telling one long story I can only see it as a shame that there's no stylistic consistency throughout all the books, no conscious attempt at narrative continuity between them and only very little attempt to expand on what was seen on TV. They are, in the main, very enjoyable reads, but in keeping with the TV episodes themselves the Trial story over all lacks cohesion and punch - never more so than in its conclusion.
Wednesday 9 January 2013
Tuesday 8 January 2013
Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Books
I've tried to set myself something of a Christmas tradition these last couple of (married) years, and read an edition of Dickens' Christmas stories each December. In 2011 I read the Penguin Classics A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Writings, so in 2012 I chose A Christmas Carol and Other Christmas Books (Oxford Classics, 2006, edited by Robert Douglas-Fairhurst). The plan is to rotate these two each year until I get sick of them. We'll see how long that lasts...
So, this Season's 500 page tome contained the full set of Dickens' annual Christmas books, originally published separately and then gathered into a collection by the author in 1852. We get A Christmas Carol (1843), The Chimes (1844), The Cricket On The Hearth (1845), The Battle Of Life (1846) and The Haunted Man (1848). 1847 was missed, we're told in the introduction, because Charlie was too busy working on Dombey and Son.
A quick side comment on the illustrations: these are gorgeous, and do much to enhance the charm and appeal of the various texts. Dickens prose is often florid and picturesque anyway, but these occasional and expressive line drawings add that extra dimension and really encourage the reader's imagination.
But back to the words:
A Christmas Carol is for many of us our first experience of Charles Dickens, and I'm sure for far too many of us is the only experience of Charles Dickens too - either in book form or the endless round of TV, film and stage adaptations. It's evolved into a piece of pure Christmas folklore these days, with the characters having settled in to the public psyche and taken on a life of their own beyond the confines of the story. Scrooge himself is now a descriptive term, readily interchangeable for 'miserly' and it undoubtedly comes as a shock to some that the word / name hails from this story.
So much of what we consider to be 'Christmas', as depicted in images on cards and in songs, comes from this story - or rather was first gathered and captured in this story. I wouldn't want to claim that Dickens invented what we now think of as Christmas, but he did a hell of a lot to cement much of its romantic imagery in our consciousness.
The Christmas Carol story is brilliant. Purely, simply brilliant. It has atmosphere aplenty, it tugs at the heartstrings, it paints so many wonderful pictures and it rockets along at quite a pace. The only occasion when a modern reader might baulk these days is over the length of time it takes for Scrooge to realise that he's dead in the future when it's plainly obvious to all as soon as he's taken there. Unfortunately for Ebenezer he needs to be shown his gravestone before he accepts the fact. But other than this psychological quibble it is possibly the perfect Christmas yarn, the perfect ghost story and the perfect 'feel good' tale.
I don't see myself tiring of reading this story each year at all.
The downside of A Christmas Carol being so good, and coming first, is that Dickens set himself an almost impossible task in attempting to match it each year. If this Oxford Classics book does anything it shows that, frankly, he failed. In fact, it's not surprising that after four valiant attempts he decided to leave it and just dedicate a special seasonal issue of Household Words, his periodical, to Christmas-related stories instead. There he could share the pain with Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell and various other contributors of varying literary skill.
The Chimes presents us with 'Trotty' Veck, a street courier / messenger for hire, who likes hot tripe and worries about his daughter and potential future son-in-law. My first reaction was 'I don't like his name'. I'm not proud of that as a critical response, but as a reader looking for some Christmas-time escapism it immediately put me at odds with the text and prevented me from getting fully immersed in the world - which is where I wanted to be. So much of Dickens' work is full of wonderfully expressive character names. Trotty Veck is not a good example. He's also a fool and it's difficult to sympathise with him. There's a supernatural element where Veck has apparently died and is shown the future by the goblins who live in the 'Chimes', the local Church bells, but it never has any of the heart-warming appeal of the Carol and I found my attention wandering. Of course it all works out fine in the end, and Trotty hasn't died - it's all a tripe-induced bad dream, and he and his daughter manage to help some strangers to what will hopefully be a better life with Veck's landlady below. There's a moral in the story, apparently, but it was lost on this reader because I felt at odds with the text the whole time.
What off-balanced me completely was that on the last page Dickens suddenly comes over all self aware, questioning his and the reader's perceptions over the text we've just read. It's all very Sternean, and I can't help but feel the whole piece would have had more charm and appeal if Dickens had taken the playful or unreliable narrator role throughout instead. This 'afterword' comes across, instead, like a knowing wink from an orator, closing a public presentation (and one now is put in mind of Dickens own public readings of A Christmas Carol.)
The Cricket On The Hearth was an improvement, inasmuch as it held my attention, but again the world it depicts didn't reach out to me as a reader and I found the characters and their situations difficult to empathise with. Dickens, in glorious Nineteenth Century fashion, was prone to verbosity and over-description and I started to feel a bit fatigued by over-writing during this story. There's no supernatural involvement this time - although the title and the introduction lead one to expect some input from the cricket at some juncture - but there's also no overtly Christmassy feel to the story. It's quite a sweet story as it turns out, and it shows the value of trust and deep love in a marriage - presumably not just at Christmas though. Again we're given characters of lowly status in the world, with Dickens writing moral lessons for the common man, but none of the characters are particularly vivid or endearing and, alas, none of the names really stood out.
I really struggled with The Battle Of Life more than any of the stories. If I hadn't been determined to finish the collection this would have made me give up. To me it was 80-odd pages of words, failing to interest or engage me at all and with nothing to do with celebrating Christmas - and I don't get what the title has to do with the story specifically. The characters lacked definition and I found it tiring continually having to remind myself of settings and relationships because I found no interest in them or their situation. Does this story constitute a valuable addition to the English literary canon? Not in my view. I can only hope that in two years time when I pick it up again I'm a more enlightened reader.
We're back on supernatural ground with the final story The Haunted Man. It starts off wonderfully, with a gorgeous atmosphere and I was really quite taken from page one. It has a psychological punch which adds interest, but it still has a tendency to wander and ramble, and it requires considerable concentration on the part of the reader to keep tabs on who is where and how everyone fits together. This story was also included in the Penguin Classics edition I'd read the previous year, so I was already familiar with it, but I don't think that made me fonder of it, or that I found it easier to read this time around.
Maybe my mistake was in reading them all one after another - could I have 'Dickensed' myself out? Perhaps next year I should split the stories up with other reads in between, or only read one per year? Or perhaps I should have thought 'I wonder why these other stories aren't as well known as A Christmas Carol?'
These stories were collected together by Dickens as 'The Christmas Books' in 1852, so he was actively encouraging comparison and comment, and for them to be looked at as a whole. A Christmas Carol is a good length story, not too florid but not too concise. The Chimes, The Cricket On the Hearth and The Battle Of Life all feel too long and rambling to me. The Haunted Man is better at holding its length and maintaining interest, but I think it's a shame when a story or novella feels laboured and drawn out. The other clear point for me is that the later books don't offer any further Christmas trappings or folklore (at least not that's been handed down through the years); they don't build on any established myths or create any of their own, they're merely novellas published around Christmas time but not subscribing themselves to any obvious Christmas celebrations.
Dickens imagined himself something of a social campaigner, highlighting the plight of the poor and the general inequality of life - largely through his own personal experiences. But he was a realist too: he satirises, he jibes and pokes away through his creative writing where he can also make a successful living, rather than jeopardising his position with more forceful campaigning. These Christmas stories are very representative of that side of Dickens - they have a didactic purpose, painting pictures of life in various strata, and can be seen as homilies in many ways. But whereas in his novels Dickens had the space to develop characters and build situations I don't believe this novella length was a comfortable medium for him: his work falls between two stools, not having enough space and time to develop strong central characters with clear and original messages, whilst at the same time wanting to pack too much in, thus overcrowding the short capacity and leaving the reader befuddled at times. All except A Christmas Carol, of course, in which he gets everything right.
All things considered, these lesser known Christmas stories have value and interest from a bibliographical or contextual perspective, and they add value to collections of Dickens shorter published works these days, but truly there is only one Christmas Book and that is A Christmas Carol.
So, this Season's 500 page tome contained the full set of Dickens' annual Christmas books, originally published separately and then gathered into a collection by the author in 1852. We get A Christmas Carol (1843), The Chimes (1844), The Cricket On The Hearth (1845), The Battle Of Life (1846) and The Haunted Man (1848). 1847 was missed, we're told in the introduction, because Charlie was too busy working on Dombey and Son.
A quick side comment on the illustrations: these are gorgeous, and do much to enhance the charm and appeal of the various texts. Dickens prose is often florid and picturesque anyway, but these occasional and expressive line drawings add that extra dimension and really encourage the reader's imagination.
But back to the words:
A Christmas Carol is for many of us our first experience of Charles Dickens, and I'm sure for far too many of us is the only experience of Charles Dickens too - either in book form or the endless round of TV, film and stage adaptations. It's evolved into a piece of pure Christmas folklore these days, with the characters having settled in to the public psyche and taken on a life of their own beyond the confines of the story. Scrooge himself is now a descriptive term, readily interchangeable for 'miserly' and it undoubtedly comes as a shock to some that the word / name hails from this story.
So much of what we consider to be 'Christmas', as depicted in images on cards and in songs, comes from this story - or rather was first gathered and captured in this story. I wouldn't want to claim that Dickens invented what we now think of as Christmas, but he did a hell of a lot to cement much of its romantic imagery in our consciousness.
The Christmas Carol story is brilliant. Purely, simply brilliant. It has atmosphere aplenty, it tugs at the heartstrings, it paints so many wonderful pictures and it rockets along at quite a pace. The only occasion when a modern reader might baulk these days is over the length of time it takes for Scrooge to realise that he's dead in the future when it's plainly obvious to all as soon as he's taken there. Unfortunately for Ebenezer he needs to be shown his gravestone before he accepts the fact. But other than this psychological quibble it is possibly the perfect Christmas yarn, the perfect ghost story and the perfect 'feel good' tale.
I don't see myself tiring of reading this story each year at all.
The downside of A Christmas Carol being so good, and coming first, is that Dickens set himself an almost impossible task in attempting to match it each year. If this Oxford Classics book does anything it shows that, frankly, he failed. In fact, it's not surprising that after four valiant attempts he decided to leave it and just dedicate a special seasonal issue of Household Words, his periodical, to Christmas-related stories instead. There he could share the pain with Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell and various other contributors of varying literary skill.
The Chimes presents us with 'Trotty' Veck, a street courier / messenger for hire, who likes hot tripe and worries about his daughter and potential future son-in-law. My first reaction was 'I don't like his name'. I'm not proud of that as a critical response, but as a reader looking for some Christmas-time escapism it immediately put me at odds with the text and prevented me from getting fully immersed in the world - which is where I wanted to be. So much of Dickens' work is full of wonderfully expressive character names. Trotty Veck is not a good example. He's also a fool and it's difficult to sympathise with him. There's a supernatural element where Veck has apparently died and is shown the future by the goblins who live in the 'Chimes', the local Church bells, but it never has any of the heart-warming appeal of the Carol and I found my attention wandering. Of course it all works out fine in the end, and Trotty hasn't died - it's all a tripe-induced bad dream, and he and his daughter manage to help some strangers to what will hopefully be a better life with Veck's landlady below. There's a moral in the story, apparently, but it was lost on this reader because I felt at odds with the text the whole time.
What off-balanced me completely was that on the last page Dickens suddenly comes over all self aware, questioning his and the reader's perceptions over the text we've just read. It's all very Sternean, and I can't help but feel the whole piece would have had more charm and appeal if Dickens had taken the playful or unreliable narrator role throughout instead. This 'afterword' comes across, instead, like a knowing wink from an orator, closing a public presentation (and one now is put in mind of Dickens own public readings of A Christmas Carol.)
The Cricket On The Hearth was an improvement, inasmuch as it held my attention, but again the world it depicts didn't reach out to me as a reader and I found the characters and their situations difficult to empathise with. Dickens, in glorious Nineteenth Century fashion, was prone to verbosity and over-description and I started to feel a bit fatigued by over-writing during this story. There's no supernatural involvement this time - although the title and the introduction lead one to expect some input from the cricket at some juncture - but there's also no overtly Christmassy feel to the story. It's quite a sweet story as it turns out, and it shows the value of trust and deep love in a marriage - presumably not just at Christmas though. Again we're given characters of lowly status in the world, with Dickens writing moral lessons for the common man, but none of the characters are particularly vivid or endearing and, alas, none of the names really stood out.
I really struggled with The Battle Of Life more than any of the stories. If I hadn't been determined to finish the collection this would have made me give up. To me it was 80-odd pages of words, failing to interest or engage me at all and with nothing to do with celebrating Christmas - and I don't get what the title has to do with the story specifically. The characters lacked definition and I found it tiring continually having to remind myself of settings and relationships because I found no interest in them or their situation. Does this story constitute a valuable addition to the English literary canon? Not in my view. I can only hope that in two years time when I pick it up again I'm a more enlightened reader.
We're back on supernatural ground with the final story The Haunted Man. It starts off wonderfully, with a gorgeous atmosphere and I was really quite taken from page one. It has a psychological punch which adds interest, but it still has a tendency to wander and ramble, and it requires considerable concentration on the part of the reader to keep tabs on who is where and how everyone fits together. This story was also included in the Penguin Classics edition I'd read the previous year, so I was already familiar with it, but I don't think that made me fonder of it, or that I found it easier to read this time around.
Maybe my mistake was in reading them all one after another - could I have 'Dickensed' myself out? Perhaps next year I should split the stories up with other reads in between, or only read one per year? Or perhaps I should have thought 'I wonder why these other stories aren't as well known as A Christmas Carol?'
These stories were collected together by Dickens as 'The Christmas Books' in 1852, so he was actively encouraging comparison and comment, and for them to be looked at as a whole. A Christmas Carol is a good length story, not too florid but not too concise. The Chimes, The Cricket On the Hearth and The Battle Of Life all feel too long and rambling to me. The Haunted Man is better at holding its length and maintaining interest, but I think it's a shame when a story or novella feels laboured and drawn out. The other clear point for me is that the later books don't offer any further Christmas trappings or folklore (at least not that's been handed down through the years); they don't build on any established myths or create any of their own, they're merely novellas published around Christmas time but not subscribing themselves to any obvious Christmas celebrations.
Dickens imagined himself something of a social campaigner, highlighting the plight of the poor and the general inequality of life - largely through his own personal experiences. But he was a realist too: he satirises, he jibes and pokes away through his creative writing where he can also make a successful living, rather than jeopardising his position with more forceful campaigning. These Christmas stories are very representative of that side of Dickens - they have a didactic purpose, painting pictures of life in various strata, and can be seen as homilies in many ways. But whereas in his novels Dickens had the space to develop characters and build situations I don't believe this novella length was a comfortable medium for him: his work falls between two stools, not having enough space and time to develop strong central characters with clear and original messages, whilst at the same time wanting to pack too much in, thus overcrowding the short capacity and leaving the reader befuddled at times. All except A Christmas Carol, of course, in which he gets everything right.
All things considered, these lesser known Christmas stories have value and interest from a bibliographical or contextual perspective, and they add value to collections of Dickens shorter published works these days, but truly there is only one Christmas Book and that is A Christmas Carol.
Monday 7 January 2013
Doctor Who series 7 reviews: The Snowmen
I think it's clear by now that the Doctor Who Christmas Specials work best when they have a purpose, and they're not trying to just be 'Specials'. Easily the best of the bunch have been 2005's The Christmas Invasion, introducing David Tennant as The Doctor, 2010's The End of Time 2-parter, seeing out David Tennant's Doctor, and now 2012's The Snowmen introducing, or continuing to introduce, the mystery that is new companion Clara Oswin Oswald - played wonderfully by Jenna-Louise Coleman.
Despite her appearance in the brilliant Season 7 opener Asylum of The Daleks this is very much a jumping-on point for the series, post-Ponds. We have a new theme arrangement, new titles, new Doctor costume and new TARDIS interior.
- New theme: fine, but I do miss the powerful diddly-dum because it's not all about the woo-oos.
- New titles: wow! There's a hell of a lot going on there, including (at last!) the Doctor's face appearing briefly. The final section is very reminiscent of the split-screen effect diamond-shaped time tunnel used in the latter Jon Pertwee and the Tom Baker titles. Nice!
- New Doctor costume: another tick for me. I always preferred a longer coat on The Doctor. Again, there's much detail and hidden layers - much like the Time Lord himself I guess.
- New TARDIS interior: Yes, I like this - but then I haven't yet seen one that I didn't really like at all (even the washing up bowl walls used for The Time Monster). My only grumble is probably a standard fanboy niggle: there aren't enough roundels! Just the one line around the walls, not all over the place like they used to be. But it's an interesting design, a bit more regimented than recent efforts, with visible edges and corners, and maintaining the different height levels gives flexibility. It also looks more functional and user-friendly - particularly more so than the Eccleston / Tennant 'coral' version with its ethereal fish tank lighting.
So, the episode itself: it's difficult to say too much really because I really enjoyed it and there's a tendency to gush and be over-enthusiastic to the point of sycophancy. So I'll be brief and only touch on those aspects that really stood out.
The episode had a level of style and visual quality that we've come to expect from recent episodes. Saul Metzstein has already proven himself to be a stand-out director within the current bunch.
Commander Strax, Madame Vastra & Jenny have appeared before but were served much better this time than in A Good Man Goes To War (2011). The humour from Strax is wonderful because it comes directly from his character, and isn't forced. Could this weird triumvirate be the next spin-off now Torchwood has disappeared up its own hell-hole? They certainly look great in Victorian garb.
Richard E. Grant spent a bit too long talking through his teeth for my liking, but he was still generally good value and Ian McKellen was excellent as the disembodied voice of the Great Intelligence, a Classic villain returning after 44 years. It's pleasing that in our high-tech world something that is only a large globe with some plastic snow blowing around in it can be so effective as a visual embodiment of 'evil'; very Jules Verne, I thought.
Having avoided the spoilers it was great fun working out that it was actually the Great Intelligence behind it all - although the episode title becomes an obvious feed once you know (for the uninitiated the original Intelligence story was called The Abominable Snowmen). I particularly enjoyed the scene where Grant became an animated cadaver; such staples of horror are always memorable and his frozen face added to the effect immensely.
The Snowmen monsters themselves were fun, however I think they would have looked scarier with no teeth, just a gaping maw - I felt this when I forst saw the pre-publicity images. But then the show has quite recently done the whole empty mouth effect with the Silents so I can understand them not wanting to go down that road again.
Matt Smith was once again on fire in this episode. Frankly I wasn't that impressed with the prequel shown back in November - it didn't whet my appetite and I wasn't moved by the moody Doctor at all. In the episode proper, though, Smith quickly got out of his funk and gave the usual tour de force - particularly when dressed as Sherlock Holmes and in all of his scenes opposite Richard E. Grant.
Jenna-Louise Coleman stole the show though. There was so much going on in her performance, she was incredibly watchable - full of fun, energy and sparkle. It's no wonder she so easily pulled the Doctor out of his 'retirement'. Her confidence and ability was never more prominent than in the 'one word' scene with Madame Vastra & Jenny. A gorgeously written and perfectly played set-piece where the power shifts wonderfully from Vastra to Clara as the conversation progresses. And yes, the final word 'Pond' was loaded and worked on various levels. But at least any Amy and Rory memories this may have engendered were left to the audience to fill in themselves (should they choose) without the kind of laboured soul-searching that would accompany 10th Doctor memories of Rose, for example.
And amongst all this there's a further mystery for us fans: why didn't / couldn't the Doctor quite remember the Great Intelligence? It was mentioned and almost thrown away towards the end, but this eagle-eared viewer spotted it straight away. Is this a seed for a forthcoming story arc? Tennant's Doctor had no trouble remembering the Macra back in Season 3 and they're contemporaneous with the Yeti and the Great Intelligence. Tricky. Is this another of Moffatt's little games?
Some people have observed that the ending was a bit rushed, or convenient. That's very symptomatic of the series as a whole since its return, and sometimes (as in The Fires of Pompeii) it bugs me but here it didn't seem out of place or sudden.
What was impressive about the ending, though, was the way it set up the mystery for the remainder of this series (and beyond..?) about who or what these Clara / Oswin characters are and how or why they're relating to the Doctor. I'm rather excited about the whole thing - so roll on the Spring!
Despite her appearance in the brilliant Season 7 opener Asylum of The Daleks this is very much a jumping-on point for the series, post-Ponds. We have a new theme arrangement, new titles, new Doctor costume and new TARDIS interior.
- New theme: fine, but I do miss the powerful diddly-dum because it's not all about the woo-oos.
- New titles: wow! There's a hell of a lot going on there, including (at last!) the Doctor's face appearing briefly. The final section is very reminiscent of the split-screen effect diamond-shaped time tunnel used in the latter Jon Pertwee and the Tom Baker titles. Nice!
- New Doctor costume: another tick for me. I always preferred a longer coat on The Doctor. Again, there's much detail and hidden layers - much like the Time Lord himself I guess.
- New TARDIS interior: Yes, I like this - but then I haven't yet seen one that I didn't really like at all (even the washing up bowl walls used for The Time Monster). My only grumble is probably a standard fanboy niggle: there aren't enough roundels! Just the one line around the walls, not all over the place like they used to be. But it's an interesting design, a bit more regimented than recent efforts, with visible edges and corners, and maintaining the different height levels gives flexibility. It also looks more functional and user-friendly - particularly more so than the Eccleston / Tennant 'coral' version with its ethereal fish tank lighting.
So, the episode itself: it's difficult to say too much really because I really enjoyed it and there's a tendency to gush and be over-enthusiastic to the point of sycophancy. So I'll be brief and only touch on those aspects that really stood out.
The episode had a level of style and visual quality that we've come to expect from recent episodes. Saul Metzstein has already proven himself to be a stand-out director within the current bunch.
Commander Strax, Madame Vastra & Jenny have appeared before but were served much better this time than in A Good Man Goes To War (2011). The humour from Strax is wonderful because it comes directly from his character, and isn't forced. Could this weird triumvirate be the next spin-off now Torchwood has disappeared up its own hell-hole? They certainly look great in Victorian garb.
Richard E. Grant spent a bit too long talking through his teeth for my liking, but he was still generally good value and Ian McKellen was excellent as the disembodied voice of the Great Intelligence, a Classic villain returning after 44 years. It's pleasing that in our high-tech world something that is only a large globe with some plastic snow blowing around in it can be so effective as a visual embodiment of 'evil'; very Jules Verne, I thought.
Having avoided the spoilers it was great fun working out that it was actually the Great Intelligence behind it all - although the episode title becomes an obvious feed once you know (for the uninitiated the original Intelligence story was called The Abominable Snowmen). I particularly enjoyed the scene where Grant became an animated cadaver; such staples of horror are always memorable and his frozen face added to the effect immensely.
The Snowmen monsters themselves were fun, however I think they would have looked scarier with no teeth, just a gaping maw - I felt this when I forst saw the pre-publicity images. But then the show has quite recently done the whole empty mouth effect with the Silents so I can understand them not wanting to go down that road again.
Matt Smith was once again on fire in this episode. Frankly I wasn't that impressed with the prequel shown back in November - it didn't whet my appetite and I wasn't moved by the moody Doctor at all. In the episode proper, though, Smith quickly got out of his funk and gave the usual tour de force - particularly when dressed as Sherlock Holmes and in all of his scenes opposite Richard E. Grant.
Jenna-Louise Coleman stole the show though. There was so much going on in her performance, she was incredibly watchable - full of fun, energy and sparkle. It's no wonder she so easily pulled the Doctor out of his 'retirement'. Her confidence and ability was never more prominent than in the 'one word' scene with Madame Vastra & Jenny. A gorgeously written and perfectly played set-piece where the power shifts wonderfully from Vastra to Clara as the conversation progresses. And yes, the final word 'Pond' was loaded and worked on various levels. But at least any Amy and Rory memories this may have engendered were left to the audience to fill in themselves (should they choose) without the kind of laboured soul-searching that would accompany 10th Doctor memories of Rose, for example.
And amongst all this there's a further mystery for us fans: why didn't / couldn't the Doctor quite remember the Great Intelligence? It was mentioned and almost thrown away towards the end, but this eagle-eared viewer spotted it straight away. Is this a seed for a forthcoming story arc? Tennant's Doctor had no trouble remembering the Macra back in Season 3 and they're contemporaneous with the Yeti and the Great Intelligence. Tricky. Is this another of Moffatt's little games?
Some people have observed that the ending was a bit rushed, or convenient. That's very symptomatic of the series as a whole since its return, and sometimes (as in The Fires of Pompeii) it bugs me but here it didn't seem out of place or sudden.
What was impressive about the ending, though, was the way it set up the mystery for the remainder of this series (and beyond..?) about who or what these Clara / Oswin characters are and how or why they're relating to the Doctor. I'm rather excited about the whole thing - so roll on the Spring!
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