Doctor Who: Thin Ice Review

Thus far in series 10 we have seen a retread of the familiar story - the introduction of a bored young woman to the Doctor's life - and, perhaps unsurprisingly each of the episodes have teetered dangerously close to being too familiar. From the first series in 2005, the new companion introduction has been a ritualistic repeated pattern - Present, Future/Past, Past/Future. Beneath the visuals and adventures is the story of the companion and the Doctor shifting their perspectives and coming to terms with each others personalities and forging the new dynamic. Last week, Frank Cottrell Boyce introduced Bill to the future weaving the aspects of her culture shock into his story subtly. In this episode Sarah Dollard has taken the opposite approach with some ugly concepts being brought to the fore.

Shortly after her episode aired, Dollard tweeted about what a great evening she had had, thanking friends and family and even the man on twitter who had decried the "SJW"s writing Doctor Who. For those readers who don't know (as the only reader I intend to send this to is you, Tom I doubt there are any who don’t know) the internet "debate" over the "SJW" label is perhaps the most puerile and imbecilic going on at the moment. “SJW” stands for “Social Justice Warrior” and is used on people who display concern over issues of social justice. “SJW” is either a damning label used to silence those speaking out about such issues mocking them and suggesting that they are only discussing them as a badge of hollow moral superiority whilst “SJW”s may give themselves the label as a symbol of pride and moral superiority. So whilst genocide is being committed against homosexual people in certain parts of the world, as extremists march throughout the Middle-East massacring the locals and using rape as a weapon of terror, as Donald Trump threatens nuclear war against North Korea, as international cooperation falls apart through nationalism and misplaced senses of pride and as our world boils in its tiny, fragile atmospheric shell the most important issue for some people is complaining over whether or not a Doctor Who writer points out that racism existed in Regency England. And I continue to tap away at this keyboard analysing a family tea-time television show.

I am of the opinion that Dollard’s commitment to showing Bill’s concerns and horrible treatment is a work of authenticity. It always struck me as peculiar that Micky wasn’t carted off when he visited pre-Revolutionary France or that Martha wasn’t stoned in the streets of Elizabethan London. It’s not some hollow crusade to point out that black people might have had a hard time of it in the past. It is writing period drama. Revered Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote a short story about a black man coming to a small village, symbolising the coming of the Devil. If white people were the children of God, then black people, their “inverse” must be the children of Satan. It is ignorance or it is racism or it is both, the point is, it is history. 

Dollard doesn’t solely rely on Bill’s melanin to give her a less than comfortable time this week. I was pleased, after two episodes of light hearted banter and mutual understanding that the Bill/Doctor relationship strayed into more strained territories. Perhaps more effectively than Cottrell-Boyce last week we are shown Bill’s ideals come into question. For an audience who has spent 13 years with the Doctor we know that he must often resort to violence in order to achieve his ends and morally we are usually on his side. For the Capaldi Doctor, who began his era potentially pushing a (sort-of) person out of a hot air balloon, and who couldn’t tell the difference between the ages of a school girl and her teacher it makes sense for him to have little trouble with the death of a child, stopping only to pluck his sonic screwdriver from the boy’s dead fingers but for Bill this is horrific. The ensuing conflict is well written because it feels so natural. Occasionally, in the show when a companion falls out with the Doctor the conflict feels contrived (see Series 8 and Clara for full details) but it’s a signal of the elegance of Dollard’s writing that both the Doctor and Bill are understandably in the right and understandably in the wrong.

I was particularly interested in seeing what Sarah Dollard would do with her second trip behind the TARDIS controls because her first script Face the Raven had been so important to the series 9 arc. In Face the Raven I had felt that she had been slightly short changed as a significant part of her run time was put aside for the death of Clara and the continuation of the Mayor Me story-line. Beyond that I was really impressed with the offbeat nature of her science-fantasy imagination. I loved the imaginative ways that she found to show the Doctor and crew investigating the Trap Street, visiting libraries, hanging out of the TARDIS, the investigation wasn’t just confined to the dialogue but she found an engaging variety of ways in which to show it going on as well. Whilst in some episodes the mystery is resolved through dialogue akin to Doctor House’s scientific hypothesis, experiment, discard approach, her episodes have both involved physical investigation. The Doctor and Bill are taken from the lowest rungs of society with the street urchins, up to the highest rungs of society in the home of Lord Sutcliffe. Their investigation takes them from a work house to the tents of the Frost Fair to the watery depths beneath the River Thames. 

I was reminded strongly of the classic series story The Talons of Weng Chiang which is a story which so blatantly puts the Doctor into the role of detective that he is dressed up as Sherlock Homes. In many ways I think that Dollard as a writer could be suited to the classic series format of 4, 20 minute episodes so strong is the variety of her storytelling and the strength of her character writing. In fact, the biggest problem that I had with the episode is that some of the aspects were painted a little too broadly. Lord Sutcliffe, for one, is a character, so completely nasty that he is hardly believable. If Dollard could have had an extra few minutes of run-time to show him in different situations rather than just shouting at black women and trying to commit mass-slaughter, I’m sure she could have drawn out a few more layers to his character. Maybe we could have had some scenes of Sutcliffe showing his public face, maybe he’s a local hero for bringing business and entertainment to this dreary part of London. Perhaps we could have seen him alone with the Doctor or alone with Bill to contrast the manner in which he interacts with them. This isn’t a criticism of Dollard’s writing, it’s actually a commendation of the raw creativity that she brings to the show. I sincerely hope that she is invited back when Chibnall takes over.

I’m having great fun with Doctor Who this year, perhaps that is because of the show’s extended absence throughout 2016 or perhaps it’s because Moffat has conjured a really special energy for his final year. I’m looking forward to more.

Doctor Who: Smile Review

Frank Cottrell-Boyce returns to Doctor Who this week to introduce Bill to the universe. The author of two of the greatest children's books ever written, some brilliant examples of British cinema and the 2012 Olympic opening ceremony, Cottrell-Boyce also contributed a script to the 2014 series of Who, In the Forest of the Night. Forest was slow but atmospheric, it focused on developing the Danny Pink character, ingratiating him with the audience before his death in the opening scene of the following episode. It possessed a higher-than-high concept and the episode was based around the mystery of finding out what that concept was. The Doctor makes a false assumption about what is going on and almost destroys humanity. Smile is, in most conceivable ways its logical successor.

The central theme of this episode is happiness, and its message is much the same as 2015 film Inside Out. Many of us view happiness as synonymous with goodness. It is good to be happy and it is bad to be sad. To be successful is to be happy and to be sad is to have failed. And yet, happiness is not the appropriate reaction to everything. The death of a loved one shouldn’t incur happiness alone. One should be happy that they have had that time with their loved ones and they should grieve for the fact that those times are over. It would, in fact be disrespectful to the memory of said loved one not to feel deep sadness over their passing. Emotions are complex and understanding that is one of the most important parts of maturing (see Inside Out for full details.) I can’t help but feel that the Doctor’s swipe at the colony as being “The utopia of vacuous teens” is a dig at the entirety of modern internet culture and the “Safe space”, “Trigger warning” attitude that such charming people as Milo Yiannopolous and Stephen Fry like to complain about. When many people first learned that Doctor Who would be introducing “emoji robots” as a villain this season I’m sure that, like me, they were worried about the likely fact that these would be stomach-clenching gimmicks but in fact they turned out to be mere icons in place to represent the deeper themes of the episode.

Smile feels a lot like a Ray Bradbury short story. Lots of walking, lots of character and very subtle plot. Yet, after all of it you’re left feeling changed, as though you have experienced something quite profound. In fact, Bradbury’s classic dystopia Fahrenheit 451 is about a culture that has become homogenised and artless through the fear of making others feel bad.

Smile is a quiet episode. The colour palette is overwhelmed with white, the shots are deep and widely encompassing but contain no more than three or four figures at once, and the cast is mostly contained to The Doctor and Bill. In terms of the limited cast, the episode reminds me of the story Hell Bent in which Peter Capaldi is the only speaking character (with Jenna Coleman making a minuscule cameo as a memory of the recently deceased Clara.) Hell Bent was a story about the grieving process, death and the Doctor’s dangerous resolve. As an episode, it fully succeeds in its purpose, being frightening, dramatic and moving in its own strange way. Smile occupies a slot in the Doctor Who series which traditionally belongs to a light-hearted, thrilling adventure set in the future. Think excitement, think swashbuckling daring-do, think Gridlock, New Earth, The Beast Below and then think again. This episode is only superficially akin to those ones with the strands of its DNA being inherited from the slower, more thoughtful episodes I outlined above. For any viewer going in hoping for a romp, the episode is sure to be a disappointment so how can we measure its success? By working out what its purpose is.

This episode follows in the footsteps first trod by Russel T. Davies when he sent Rose to the future in The End of the World, the episode set the mould for a new companion being thrown in the deep end and rising to the challenges that the universe has to offer. For Rose, the culture shock resulted in a big argument with the Doctor about the rights of a time traveller – why can’t they save the planet earth? How dare he get inside her mind to translate languages for her? The episode finishes with the revelation that The Doctor is the last survivor of his race, that he has seen his planet destroyed as well. The common experience brings the two closer together, their separate viewpoints come a little closer. The resolution of The Beast Below depends on Amy's understanding of the Doctor. She sees in him something that he doesn't see in himself and then transfers that understanding onto the Space Whale. Donna Noble had the hardest time of all, the Doctor opens her mind to the song of the ood and in doing so quite literally shifts her perception. Lines like;

“Donna: But we don’t have slaves at home.

Doctor: Who do you think makes your clothes?”

Are further examples of the ways in which her perceptions are altered. The purpose of these episodes is to alter the companion's perception of the universe and of the Doctor himself. The Doctor’s perception of them shifts too and, as in any friendship, their better understanding brings them closer together. It is entirely appropriate, therefore that Boyce has made this episode about two separate societies that must change the way they think to survive as one.

The notion of shifting perception is demonstrated time and time again in the dialogue in the jokes which play around with the contrasting ways in which Bill comprehends her new world and the way that the Doctor perceives it. 

“All traps are beautiful. That’s how they work.”

“What’s the opposite of a massacre? In my experience, a lecture.”

“In the future, we don’t eat living things we eat algae.” “I met an emperor made of algae once. He fancied me.”

The script just sparkles with wit that is born from The Doctor’s alien perception of interaction and humanity. Even Nardole’s brief appearance in the episode plays into this theme. He knocks on the door and with the demeanour of a scolded little boy, The Doctor labels him “Mum” placing Nardole in the position of power. It is a send-up of everything that we know about the part-time, male companion. Adam, Mickey, Rory and even Captain Jack have all been downtrodden by The Doctor’s alpha-masculine brilliance, and trampled underfoot by the estrogenic-superiority of the female companion. And yet, here is Nardole, portrayed as bumbling, obese and subservient taking the Doctor to task.  Again and again, our perception is twisted and altered as Bill’s is of The Doctor’s and as The Doctor’s is of Bill.

As the show goes on we have seen the writers struggle in introducing each new companion, to keep this repetitive story fresh. As far back as the second companion Martha, who complains that it feels as though The Doctor is just repeating what he did with Rose – “Ever heard the word rebound?” The problem of keeping the companion’s introduction to the past and future fresh reached its lowest point with Clara who, despite having a huge, intriguing, timey mystery woven around her still had to go through the same, drab emotional beats that we had seen four times before. The Rings of Ahkhaten is disliked and this is probably because its subject matter has been squeezed dry by the show. For this reason, I appreciated the way that Cottrell-Boyce’s script kept the big revelations about The Doctor’s being to a dramatic low. He announces that he has two hearts, and Bill takes a moment to come to terms with this but The Doctor, like the audience just move on.

I liked the low-key tone of this episode for several reasons. The episode may be light on plot points but the result feels to me like taking a leisurely afternoon stroll with friends in a foreign city. Our time with The Doctor and Bill is pleasant, un-taxing and made me fully realise why someone would wish to spend time with the Doctor. For me, it feels a lot like Richard Curtis’ script Vincent and the Doctor. A low-stakes adventure where the audience just spend time in the company of Doctor, Companion and an incredible person from history. The sights are beautiful and the characters live and breathe. In Smile, instead of meeting a guest character, it is the companion that we are getting to know. It’s an elegant way of  continuing the introduction of a companion.

Most of what I want to convey is encapsulated with the repeated meme of the haddock. Much like in Hell Bent the Doctor seeds the solution to the problem by viewing it through a fable. The bird that ground down a mountain in Hell Bent and the haddock which didn’t think like a person in Smile. I adore this story-telling device. For a Doctor who fills his TARDIS with books and lectures in a university it makes perfect sense for him to view the world through stories. This again is reflected in Bill who assimilates the world around her by comparing it to the science fiction that she consumes. It connects the characters in a more subtle way than having a great speech or act of heroism define their burgeoning relationship.

In strange, interesting and engaging ways Frank Cottrell-Boyce succeeds in exploring, expanding and making me more invested in the Doctor/ Bill friendship which is coming to be one of the most natural and demonstrably functional in the series. It’s not necessary for Bill to be an “impossible girl” or a “girl with a crack in her wall,” she and the Doctor just get on. They enjoy spending time with each other and I enjoy spending time with them. The script sparkles and the themes are relevant and resonant in modern times. It’s an episode that I can see myself returning to numerous times in years to come. Series 10 is on a winning streak.

The Revenant: Review

First published 2016, Facebook

Domhnall Gleeson stars in The Revenant, Alejandro G. Iñárritu's follow-up to the Academy Award winning Birdman. Whilst the film, to some may appear overly long, pretentious and slightly overacted by Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy in the lead roles they are wrong because Domhnall proves, again to be an actor of incredible range and versatility.

Iñárritu beautifully juxtaposes masterful sweeping shots of the American wilderness with shots of Gleeson's natural and charismatic performance, displaying through the mode of film his admiration for this dynamic and chameleon-like actor.

As DiCaprio gurns to the camera whilst writhing about on the floor Iñárritu cleverly calls back to the Oscar-favorite's last nominated performance, that of The Wolf of Wall Street to contrast the subtlety of Gleeson's acting against the acting of a supposed master of his craft.

Beards feature strongly in The Revanant. Leonardo Di Caprio has transformed himself physically with the addition of the facial growth whilst Tom Hardy speaks like a working-class American Bane through the hairs on his face but it is Domhnall Gleeson again who proves to have the best hair. His combed auburn locks shine out in the wilderness like a fiery beacon to the men that follow him. In Domhnall there is a man we can trust.

From the first time I saw him in "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1"; through the trials of the noble Judge in "Dredd"; during the heartwarming love story of "About Time"; during the trying and choppy waters of "Frank"; as we wept at his fall to the dark side in "Calvary" and "Star Wars: The Force Awakens"; while we gasped in wonder at the prospects of AI in "Ex Machina" Domhnall Gleeson has lead us through some of the finest films of the past three years like a well combed man in the bleak winter's snow. I love you Domhnall Gleeson. You are good at your job.

Doctor Who: The Pilot Review

I love that new Doctor Who feeling. There are diary entries written by my fourteen year old self recording a holiday weekend in York but instead of chronicling my experiences of the Jorvik Centre, the Gourmet Burger Kitchen and all of the other historical landmarks that the fair city has to offer my train of thought keeps turning to the upcoming series 4 of Doctor Who. This was the height of my infatuation with the show, following the exemplary series 3 I had been waiting a long time to follow the Doctor's adventures with Donna Noble. This series opener, The Pilot was similarly joyous.

Something that Steven Moffat does very well is introduce not only new stories every season but he established a new format - from the structure of the season to the tone of the stories to the set up of the characters. Series 5 was a reworking of a Russel T. Davies series with all of the two-parters in the right places but with a slightly stronger, developing series arc. Series 6 took the overrunning arc to its logical conclusion with each of the five Moffat-penned episodes essentially constituting a multi-part story in themselves with the other episodes dedicated to fleshing out characters and reiterating themes. Series 7 is his weakest series because it is so fragmented, essentially concluding Amy and Rory's story before cranking up to being a story about Clara. In theory, this series represents The Doctor as a raggedy wanderer in the shadows with the components of the Matt Smith Doctor's time - Amy, Rory, River, The Silence - being removed from him building up to the triumphs of the 50th Anniversary. In series 8 the show becomes far more brooding and angst ridden with a Doctor rebuilding his identity. Series 9 is like a pulp science fiction annual, crammed with high concept stories - shape-shifters living among us, refugee aliens inhabiting a hidden street, enemies teaming up to take on evil in an alien city - the longer stories allow for a steadier pace, better characterisation and more surprises.

Series 10 has set out its stall and I cannot wait to see this new dynamic play out. Having worked for UNIT in the 70s (or 80s) it feels really natural, yet surprising, to see the Doctor take on a new earth-bound job, the role of a lecturer in a university. This occupation is such a natural fit for the Capaldi Doctor whose TARDIS is filled with books and a chalkboard and who lectures to himself or the audience (Listen, Before the Flood) savouring the words like a connoisseur tasting red wine. I am also a big fan of the addition of a third member of the TARDIS crew. In 2010 I thought that Bernard Cribbins should be brought on, not necessarily to take part in every story but to have his character add depth to the episodes bringing his world-weary character in as a counter-point to the regular companion. In 2012 I was sure that the addition of an Ood to serve drinks in the TARDIS much like K9 was in order and in 2014 I decided that adding Frank Skinner's mechanic character from Mummy on the Orient Express to help with maintenance would bring some levity to the austere combination of Capaldi/ Coleman. In 2017 my prayers have been answered in possibly the weirdest and least predictable way possible. No one could have predicted that Matt Lucas' squeaking oddball Nardole from The Husbands of River Song would be companion material. I don't think anyone would ever have considered him for a "Characters that Should Have Been Companions" list (Sally Sparrow, Rita, Wilfred, Missy, Frank Skinner) yet, here he is. I'm most interested in seeing how this strange casting choice will come into play having found his humour fairly hit-and-miss throughout the episode.

And then there's Bill. I think the most amazing thing about Bill is how natural she feels. I have no difficulty separating the actor Pearl Mackie from TV and Bill Potts from Bristol University in my mind. Mackie's delivery of the lines written for this oddball character are believable and yet Bill is far from mundane. Despite the media announcement about Bill's preferences, her sexuality feels so incidental that it's hardly noteworthy despite the fact that The Pilot was about a failed burgeoning relationship for the character. Bill's a lesbian... who cares? It's the least interesting thing about her. Bill is a fostered orphan who supports her ditzy foster mother emotionally. She serves extra chips to the people she fancies and breaks into lectures, not because she wants the reward of a degree but because she loves to learn new things. In comparison to Amy and Clara, both of whom had choppy introductions to the show in my opinion, it is incredible how fast she has become cemented as a character in my mind. I think it helps that she doesn't have a science fiction crutch to lean on. Amy grew up with a crack on her wall and emotional trauma from being abandoned by a time traveller when she was a little girl. Clara's parents had a leaf and she jumped into a time traveller's grave so she was a dalek and a snowman pushed her off a cloud. The Doctor met her twice but he didn't. Bill is a person.

Pearl Mackie is such a good choice for the role. Whilst I really liked Jenna (Louise) Coleman and Karen Gillan - both are very good actors - they had a very polished way of presenting Steven Moffat's wordy dialogue. Gillan had a habit of doing strange voices in the middle of sentences which hung a lantern on the fact that she was performing and Coleman used to recite monologues whilst walking around a room like a Shakespearean actor. These are perfectly legitimate ways to perform on a hyper-real show like Doctor Who but possibly it has (debatably) lost a large number of casual fans because there hasn't been a grounding, naturalistic factor to give broad audiences an emotional foothold in the series. It's all well and good telling a story about a Roman centurion who lived 2000 years, his daughter the body-switching archaeologist/ criminal who grew up as his best friend, her mother the aforementioned traumatised man-collector who is a model/kissogram/writer and her best friend, the daughter's husband who wears a bow-tie, has a spaceship in a phone-box and eleven faces - in fact that's probably my favourite era of the show - but most people would rather watch the X-Factor because they don't have to concentrate. The show is simple now - an alien lecturer and his butler guard a vault and his normal student travels with them in time and space. Simple but no less intriguing for that. Simple does not mean stupid.

In some ways the plot of the episode is Moffat-era paint-by-numbers but this isn't a bad thing as the purpose of the episode is to introduce a brand new Moffat character. On the surface we travel to multiple, distinct locations instead of staying in just one which calls back to episodes like Dinosaurs on a Spaceship and A Good Man Goes to War. On a deeper, metaphorical level he uses the antagonist of the story to act as a twisted mirror of the protagonist - in the likes of Mummy on the Orient Express, Death in Heaven, and any script by Toby Whithouse the villains bring out different aspect of the Doctor's personality and this gives the audience a chance to explore it. In this episode the character who is mirrored (almost literally) is Bill. The working title for the episode A Star in Her Eye could refer to either Heather or Bill. Bill's infatuation with Heather reveals that she too is wishing to escape the mundane aspects of her life like Heather who is unhappy wherever she goes on Earth. Literally, there is a star in Heather's eye and figuratively Bill is gazing at the wider universe through the star in her eyes - The Doctor - whose lectures are broadening her mind. It's not overly complex but hey, children are watching.

The Pilot has been one of my best Doctor Who experiences since The Eleventh Hour. There is so much intrigue and eleven episodes to look forward to. Capaldi's third season will hopefully be his best and a fine way to see off our show-runner of seven years, a world-class actor in our lead role and a tantalising breath of fresh air for those viewers who miss the emotional simplicity (not stupidity) of the Russel T. Davies years. Long may it continue.

Minions: Review

First published 2015, www.thefilmology.wordpress.com

Minions is a postmodernist critique of our gimmick-driven, consumerist society. It implicates the audience in a severe cautionary parable about the way our entertainments industry is falling. If we, the consumer do not begin to discern between the immediate gratification of a shock laugh and the postponed enrichment of true insight and growth then we will soon be drowning in a sea of yellow.

As the viewer looks into the void, the void begins to look back into them. The madness of basing a film around an insipid sideshow attraction; a one line, depthless joke; a suerficial slapstick spectacle is so potent that the viewer begins to feel their own sanity slip away. Like Heath Ledger’s joker we have seen the true face of mankind. We finally perceive the depths to which the human race has sunk and we can do naught but laugh. I suppose in that way – the only way – it succedes in fulfilling the promise of a film labelled “comedy”.

Nah, fuck that it’s a dumb kids movie about little, jauniced children (I just stole the best line in the film.) The Minions are not so different from the old Warner Brothers’ cartoons but in the place of a snide, sneering bunny rabbit we have the wide eyed, kind hearted Minions. The appeal of the creatures is clear in this post-Shrek, post-Dreamworks cynical satire state. They are characters driven by a desire to help others. They’re innocent and I think we missed innocence.

On the other hand who cares? It’s not particularly funny, it lacks the emotional heart of Despicable Me and the appearance of Gru at the end makes the entire film feel pointless. If the Minions’ best is before them (chronologically) then why not just watch that film that came out five years ago? Maybe feel the joy of Inside Out instead.

Doctor Who Season 8: Deep Breath and Into the Dalek

Series 8. The Difficult Series 8. Is there any television show whose best series was the eighth? It simply doesn't happen. With this in mind, it's easy to sympathise with show-runner Steven Moffat when you think about how difficult a task it was, not only to approach the production of this year of Doctor Who episodes but to pull them off at all. Think about how much creativity must be put into every season of this eclectic show; 13 scripts, multiple casts (cannon fodder), new sets, new enemies, new solutions to new problems and, this year, a new new Doctor.

The success of Doctor Who series 8 in the public's consciousness is difficult to gauge, in hindsight. The comments sections on BBC social media accounts sing a repetitive theme - "Peter Capaldi is good but the scripts let him down." To read tabloid news stories in recent weeks you would think that Capaldi was the Doctor who had failed most since the series began. Deteriorating overnight viewing figures are cited and the millions of fans who watch online and, indeed across the world are ignored. These reactions are understandable, the show by its nature appeals to a young audience and young audiences, by their natures grow up. It is closely connected with childhood and nostalgia and when the show changes as distinctly as it does in this series it stops providing that nostalgia in the same way. As for the tabloid's attitudes, the show is unique, a success story that has lasted over 50 years, it is the BBC's flagship family drama show and therefore it is hardly news to say that it is succeeding. The most commercially viable news is a failing show. For my part, Doctor Who will never be Christopher Eccleston in 2005 again. It will never make me an eleven year old boy but I'm still on its side and so recently I sat down again to watch this divisive series, distancing myself from the influence of all of these contrasting viewpoints and narratives to give it the chance it deserves. Here is what I thought.

I didn't have particularly fond memories of Series 8. My impression of it was mostly influenced by the overwhelmingly bleak tone and the dark, dark themes. I enjoyed the episodes Kill the Moon, Listen, Dark Water, Flatline and Mummy on the Orient Express very much upon transmission, the series came out during my second year of university and as such I would spend pleasant Saturday nights in bars and pubs coming home to enjoy a late night Doctor Who (wild.) These episodes were strong in terms of structure and they dealt with rich and interesting subject matters but in the past three years I have had no interest in returning to them because of those oppressive, dark overtones. For me, a child of the Russel T. Davies Doctor Who school, the show should always be fun. Series 8 is a story of identity and fear, trauma and regret. It's a far cry from Errol Flynn Tennant holding hands with shop girls and punching the air with glee. And yet, upon my re-watch I found that there was a lot to enjoy and to engage the viewers beyond its lack of fun.

The opening story for this season, Deep Breath is a surprisingly conservative for an episode designed to introduce the new Doctor. All of its components of have been in the show before. The "Paternoster Gang" return, as do the clockwork droids from The Girl in the Fireplace. The Victorian backdrop is reminiscent of the Matt Smith special The Snowmen as well as the Charles Dickens adventure from the first series. There are positive results and some drawbacks to this decision, for one thing the fact that all of these parts are familiar grants Capaldi the chance to stand out as a shiny new lead actor. On the downside, as a story it feels rather flat and indistinct. The plot breaks down to a very simple, loosely connected thing;
- Dinosaur is incinerated
- Doctor and Clara visit a restaurant
- Doctor and Clara are on the menu
- Restaurant is a spaceship
- Robots are using body parts to fix the ship
- Lead robot tries to escape and "dies"
It is very thin. The rest of the (extended) run time is padded with extraneous, if entertaining, comedy skits and contrived moments of drama. Like the central metaphor of the episode - the robot which takes new body parts and faces is like the Doctor - it's a tad superficial and unsatisfying.

Going into the second episode Into the Dalek I was always going to be on the back foot because I'm not a fan of daleks. They're so one note that they bore me. I usually find that the good dalek stories (Asylum, Dalek and Into the) work in spite of rather than because of their presence or do something interesting with their legacy in the show's publicly recognised mythology. With a title and a premise like Into the Dalek I was hoping for a cerebral interpretation as well as a literal enactment, for whatever reason I didn't feel like the episode delivered the on first viewing. The moving parts of the plot; that journey from eye stalk to mutant inside the dalek creature doesn't really engage the grown up me but it is only window dressing and it is pretty enough. The first shot of our heroes entering the dalek's eye is beautiful, surreal film making.

Another thing that put me off during the first watch was the return of the Doctor's curious, bigoted hatred of all soldiers first seen in David Tennant adventure The Sontaran Stratagem in which he bullies a general for ordering his men to defend the planet against a militarised alien threat. At first it appeared as though this was simply setting up another tedious round of Doctor/ companion boyfriend boxing match. This episode introduces series recurring character Danny Pink and to the first time viewer it seems as though his role is going to be a retread of the Doctor's picking on Micky Smith in the first two series or his rivalry with Rory in the fifth but when the episode is viewed with the knowledge of how the entire series will play out it actually begins to feel more fresh and interesting as something slightly more nuanced will be done with this thread.

Into the Dalek itself is in fact quite a textured story in its own right. The Doctor, who is often portrayed as infallible, is proven wrong by the people around him. It's a clever idea to show that in his eyes, a dalek who slaughters other daleks is "good" because it questions his world view. Truly in war one side is not good and one is not evil (before you cry Nazi consider the multiple and diverse members of the Axis alliance and the misleading propaganda and misplaced pride in Germany at the time) it is war itself and the death and suffering it causes that is evil. Just so, it is not that blind label of "soldier" which makes a person unworthy of your respect but the things they do and the reasons for them.

Perhaps it is a little repetitive that "Rusty" the dalek proclaims The Doctor a "Good Dalek" in the final scenes of the episode, The Doctor having previously been labelled as such in the series 1 episode Dalek but even here the repeated theme has its place in the episode. So much of Steven Moffat's work (although this episode was co-written by Phil Ford) contains cheeky tweaks of meaning that no doubt come from his history as a writer of sit-coms. The "Good Dalek" is not a "Dalek who is Good" but someone who is "Good at being a Dalek." This confrontation between the Doctor and his worst enemy has more gravitas than the others, it's an inspired piece of writing to have the Doctor admit that the daleks' hatred defined him as far back as the second televised story. It cements Peter Capaldi's Doctor into the show's continuity in a rather less prosaic manner than Matt Smith literally walking through a hologram showing his predecessors' faces.

The season truly begins in this episode, it introduces the third main player of the series, Danny who will define the lead characters in his differences and similarities to them. It asks the question on screen whether The Doctor is a "good man" and begins to infer that Good is an ideological term, one that casts the world into black and white and draws lines, other-ing people. Has The Doctor become an old man, so set in his ways and worldview that he is set to become a judge, jury and executioner for the peoples of the universe or is he more nuanced and flexible? As the good man Danny Pink will soon find out, he harbours a blinding dislike of soldiers and as The Doctor himself will find out, he is asking Clara the wrong question.