Plot:
The newly regenerated Doctor crashes into the garden of young Amelia Pond, who is home alone that evening in a suspiciously large house in a UK village called Leadworth. Amelia wants him to investigate the sinister crack in her bedroom wall, but first he demands in a very entitled way that she make him some food. When he's finally sated, he discovers that the crack is not in the wall, but in space and time itself; through the crack, huge eyeball creatures, the Atraxi, are reporting that a Prisoner Zero has escaped. The Doctor pops back into the TARDIS to fix its engines with a short trip into the future, but mistimes it. When he enters back into the house, he's nobbled by a policewoman, who turns out to be the grown-up Amelia - now Amy - Pond. He's basically ruined her life, with a succession of psychiatrists in the years since their first meeting refusing to believe that the raggedy Doctor wasn't imaginary.
Prisoner Zero, a multiform alien, has been hiding out in Amy's house for the intervening years, and using the body prints of coma patients in a nearby hospital to disguise itself. Amy's sort-of boyfriend Rory, a nurse at the hospital, has noticed people who should be laid out in a ward wandering around Leadworth, but can't get anyone on the staff to believe him. Together with Amy and Rory, but without the use of the TARDIS or his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor prevents the Atraxi, who've tracked Prisoner Zero to Earth, from destroying the planet and helps them to capture the fugitive. The Doctor takes the TARDIS for a test drive, and ends up mistiming it again, arriving 2 years later to finally take Amy off for adventures in time and space. But, he's withholding that he's got her aboard the TARDIS on false pretences to further investigate the mysterious space / time crack, and she's not telling him that she is avoiding her wedding the following morning.
Context:
Prisoner Zero, a multiform alien, has been hiding out in Amy's house for the intervening years, and using the body prints of coma patients in a nearby hospital to disguise itself. Amy's sort-of boyfriend Rory, a nurse at the hospital, has noticed people who should be laid out in a ward wandering around Leadworth, but can't get anyone on the staff to believe him. Together with Amy and Rory, but without the use of the TARDIS or his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor prevents the Atraxi, who've tracked Prisoner Zero to Earth, from destroying the planet and helps them to capture the fugitive. The Doctor takes the TARDIS for a test drive, and ends up mistiming it again, arriving 2 years later to finally take Amy off for adventures in time and space. But, he's withholding that he's got her aboard the TARDIS on false pretences to further investigate the mysterious space / time crack, and she's not telling him that she is avoiding her wedding the following morning.Context:
I am finally done watching the Doctor Who blu-ray box set (of Tom Baker's final season) that I've been ploughing through with increasing apathy over the last few weeks. It's finished with now, but the next set's on preorder and will be with me within days, and the next one after that's been announced and it's a season (Colin Baker's last - the Trial of a Timelord year) that I have a soft spot for, and I've preordered that one too. Clearly, I'm never going to learn not to buy them, but maybe I can train myself not to get too bent out of shape about watching every tiny scrap of new content contained thereon, and thereby wasting my life. Anyway, the relief of again being able to watch a different Who, randomly picked from any available in any era, was palpable. This may have increased my enjoyment of The Eleventh Hour, but it didn't explain why the family (who've been leaving me alone to wrestle with Christopher H. Bidmead's opuses) responded so well. It was a lazy Sunday, and I put on the story without much fanfare. For most of the 60 minute running time, the whole lot of them (the Better Half, boys of 9 and 12, girl of 7) sat rapt: this is the best reaction to an episode of Doctor Who for some time. Their only issue was with the cold open, which left everyone a bit, well, cold - too frenetic and arbitrary without anyone having a clear memory of the cliffhanger that preceded it.
First-time round:
First-time round:
The build up to the first adventure of this new Doctor came hard and fast upon the most sustained period of popularity for Doctor Who in decades (this being the stretch from David Tennant's Christmas in space with Kylie Minogue, through his final full season with Catherine Tate, and into the following year of specials, racking up huge audiences and high rankings in the top 10 programmes of the week). It was hard to imagine that fervour could be topped, but they pretty much did it: Matt Smith and Karen Gillan were introduced with a countrywide bus tour, and an odd 3D trailer in cinemas. The theme music changed and the logo changed - always signifiers of a big relaunch. I have no memories of sitting down to watch the episode itself, but I'm pretty sure it would have been live as it went out, or very slightly timeshifted if we were working around the children's bedtimes, as they were very young then.Reaction:
This story is to a great extent a Russell T Davies homage; this is clear from the very first sequence - zooming into the planet Earth from space - which mirrors the beginning of Rose and many other key stories from Davies's time as showrunner. Either to help ease the audience into the changes in format to come, or to pay tribute to his outgoing pal (most likely both), writer and new showrunner Steven Moffat includes lots of elements familiar from the previous five years of Doctor Who to make a big bold contemporary Earth invasion with high concept baddies, happening on a global scale but seen through a local domestic lens, and with a celebrity cameo. The Doctor is not the only one wearing his predecessor's clothes. What is more interesting though, is where the two takes on this style of story differ; these would give more of a clue to the future directions of Who during Moffat's tenure.
The thing in The Eleventh Hour that most deviates from the Davies template is the lack of family. Most of Davies's works in and out of Doctor Who centre on families, often unconventional or extended ones. Moffat in The Eleventh Hour, conversely, specifically highlights the lack of family, with young Amelia all alone late at night, and no sign of any relatives when she's grown up either. This is a plot point that will be picked up in the 2010 finale, when we'll see that there's a very good reason for this; but, even when they are reintroduced, Amy's family members aren't meant to be realistic. They are fairy tale characters not even loosely connected to any reality, unlike Davies's heightened but nonetheless grounded creations. Because of its sampling of the old era, it's not explicit in The Eleventh Hour, but over the episodes and over the years to come, a darker fantasy tone, akin to swathes of director Tim Burton's output, would become more and more obvious. This culminated many years later in episodes where ravens brought death, and the Doctor was imprisoned in a clockwork castle; here, it's much more subtle.
The most obvious 'fairy tale' moment is the early sequence of the Doctor demanding different foods from young Amelia like the Tigger that came to tea: memorable, funny and energetic. This is another departure from the old template: it was rare for a child to appear in the rebooted Doctor Who, let alone to interact with the Doctor for an extended length of time. Matt Smith shines in this scene (as he always works well with kids in subsequent serials) in a way that Eccleston or Tennant probably wouldn't have; Caitlin Blackwood is remarkable too. But but but... it's not real. We have to wonder why this little girl is on her own, why isn't she scared, etc. etc. What the scene gains in terms of atmosphere and mystery, it loses in terms of credibility and audience identification. From the off, Amy is "The Girl Who Waited" someone who's entirely defined by the influence from childhood of a couple of sci-fi concepts (time crack, unreliable time traveller). Her only significant relationship depicted is with Rory, and it's painted in very broad stokes, although Arthur Darvill works very hard to ground Rory as a relatable human being, so everyone isn't a fantasy archetype.
Another major difference from the Davies era is the use of guest stars. The Eleventh Hour features some great potential for powerful character acting in that it features both Annette Crosbie and Olivia Colman; they are both wonderful, and they are both - frankly - wasted. Neither gets much more than a cameo and both provide nothing but exposition. Olivia Colman gets to do exposition with big scary teeth, but it's not much consolation. One can imagine what great and memorable characters Davies would have made for them, but this doesn't seem to be be Moffat's priority. A generalisation, I know, but for the most part clever plots, zingy dialogue and interesting concepts are the driving forces of Doctor Who stories from this point on; creating memorable guest characters becomes less important. This is not to say I dislike the approach, or this particular story, it's just different. But it does seem like a wasted opportunity, particularly with regards to Colman.
A final difference to note is that Moffat, unlike Davies even at his moments of most intricate forward planning, is putting increasing effort into the show's ongoing story arcs. Here he deliberately adds moments that will pay off much much later: the mysterious shadow of a figure flitting across the house, the sound of the TARDIS arriving when young Amelia is waiting with her suitcase, the crack in the wall - each of these will be picked up in episodes to come, in some cases many years later. None massively successfully, though: I'm still not sure I really understand what happens with young Amelia at the end of The Angels Take Manhattan (I look forward to getting my head round that when I revisit it for the blog). Despite the care put in to seeding these things, compared to Davies's clear winging it and seeing what works, no pay off is as good as, say, "You are Not Alone". The approach also creates some problems. Loose ends get blown out of all proportion, because the fan watching expects them to be part of the plan; people were waiting in vain for years for an in-show explanation of the Doctor's off-hand comment about Leadworth's duck pond, for example. The obsession with everything joining up into one overall plot also comes at the expense of the fun of individual adventuring: rather than being two new friends choosing to go off and have fun, both the Doctor and Amy have a ulterior motive for being together in the TARDIS at the end.
Connectivity:
The thing in The Eleventh Hour that most deviates from the Davies template is the lack of family. Most of Davies's works in and out of Doctor Who centre on families, often unconventional or extended ones. Moffat in The Eleventh Hour, conversely, specifically highlights the lack of family, with young Amelia all alone late at night, and no sign of any relatives when she's grown up either. This is a plot point that will be picked up in the 2010 finale, when we'll see that there's a very good reason for this; but, even when they are reintroduced, Amy's family members aren't meant to be realistic. They are fairy tale characters not even loosely connected to any reality, unlike Davies's heightened but nonetheless grounded creations. Because of its sampling of the old era, it's not explicit in The Eleventh Hour, but over the episodes and over the years to come, a darker fantasy tone, akin to swathes of director Tim Burton's output, would become more and more obvious. This culminated many years later in episodes where ravens brought death, and the Doctor was imprisoned in a clockwork castle; here, it's much more subtle.The most obvious 'fairy tale' moment is the early sequence of the Doctor demanding different foods from young Amelia like the Tigger that came to tea: memorable, funny and energetic. This is another departure from the old template: it was rare for a child to appear in the rebooted Doctor Who, let alone to interact with the Doctor for an extended length of time. Matt Smith shines in this scene (as he always works well with kids in subsequent serials) in a way that Eccleston or Tennant probably wouldn't have; Caitlin Blackwood is remarkable too. But but but... it's not real. We have to wonder why this little girl is on her own, why isn't she scared, etc. etc. What the scene gains in terms of atmosphere and mystery, it loses in terms of credibility and audience identification. From the off, Amy is "The Girl Who Waited" someone who's entirely defined by the influence from childhood of a couple of sci-fi concepts (time crack, unreliable time traveller). Her only significant relationship depicted is with Rory, and it's painted in very broad stokes, although Arthur Darvill works very hard to ground Rory as a relatable human being, so everyone isn't a fantasy archetype.
A final difference to note is that Moffat, unlike Davies even at his moments of most intricate forward planning, is putting increasing effort into the show's ongoing story arcs. Here he deliberately adds moments that will pay off much much later: the mysterious shadow of a figure flitting across the house, the sound of the TARDIS arriving when young Amelia is waiting with her suitcase, the crack in the wall - each of these will be picked up in episodes to come, in some cases many years later. None massively successfully, though: I'm still not sure I really understand what happens with young Amelia at the end of The Angels Take Manhattan (I look forward to getting my head round that when I revisit it for the blog). Despite the care put in to seeding these things, compared to Davies's clear winging it and seeing what works, no pay off is as good as, say, "You are Not Alone". The approach also creates some problems. Loose ends get blown out of all proportion, because the fan watching expects them to be part of the plan; people were waiting in vain for years for an in-show explanation of the Doctor's off-hand comment about Leadworth's duck pond, for example. The obsession with everything joining up into one overall plot also comes at the expense of the fun of individual adventuring: rather than being two new friends choosing to go off and have fun, both the Doctor and Amy have a ulterior motive for being together in the TARDIS at the end.
Connectivity:
Both stories depict the second journey a newly introduced Doctor takes in the TARDIS; and, in both, for a substantial time, the TARDIS team are blocked from travelling away from the action.
Deeper Thoughts:
A Tale of Two Showrunners. I have found sufficient courage
to start watching Years and Years, the aforementioned Russell T Davies's latest TV drama. I'm halfway through, and though it is a painful watch (as it's very close to the bone regarding current UK politics) it is sublime. It's not too surprising an outpouring from his pen, though, as he has been producing dry runs for this story many times previously. As I've touched on before, it is a more intricate revamp of 2008 story Doctor Who Turn Left, and it bears many similarities to both the latter two series of Torchwood: global catastrophes viewed through the lens of family and friends. Domestic apocalyptic if you will. This was perhaps a cross-fertilisation of two genres he cut his teeth on as a new writer, children's fantasy drama and soap. Or maybe they were obsessions that predated his professional writing, and that's what drew him to those genres in the first place. Whatever the motivation, it's clear to see a throughline from those early efforts to The Second Coming (a dry run for Davies's Doctor Who approach) through to Years and Years. Even Queer as Folk had moments that verged on a personal version of the apocalyptic, and Cucumber was very doomy, it being the tale of a man whose life is torn down bit by bit, who finds refuge with a new 'family'.
It's harder to see such a throughline for Steven Moffat's work, though. When The Eleventh Hour aired, fans may have had a reasonable idea of what it would be like, but only from the Doctor Who stories he'd written when Davies was showrunner. While zinger-strewn dialogue might have been prevalent in his previous work, would the puzzle box plots, fairy tale / superhero logic, and old school adventure trappings have been guessed at based on a viewing of Coupling or Press Gang or Joking Apart? It all seems to have come from nowhere. Davies has an obvious (albeit maybe subconscious) inspiration: John Wyndham, whose stories all lean towards the domestic apocalyptic. Steven Moffat clearly has interest in many more literary influences, from a few decades before The Day of the Triffids: HG Wells, Stevenson, Conan-Doyle, Bram Stoker. Would it be too much to hope for him to tackle a Jules Verne next? That would seem to complete the set.
A pattern emerges somewhat: Moffat's work (sometimes with an ally of the same sensibilities in co-writer/producer Mark Gatiss) tends to focus on a charismatic man (always a man) with superhuman skills of some kind, who exists as the central hub for all other character's interactions, and all other characters are defined by relationship to him. That's how the Doctor is in Moffat's era, and its how Sherlock and Jekyll acted in his other series also. It's not a million miles different from Davies's "Lonely God" persona for the Doctor, and his impact on others in those earlier stories, but a slight tweak of emphasis makes a vast difference in intent. Davies's stories are usually told from the point of view of the companions or other characters, and this creates more of a gang show feel for the regular cast: Rose, Donna, Captain Jack, Sarah Jane, even Mickey and Martha, are effectively co-leads, and can operate effectively without the Doctor as stars of their own show (literally in some cases, metaphorically in the rest). The companions and regular characters of the Moffat era, as colourful as they, operate as sidekicks most of the time.
Interestingly, Chris Chibnall has swung things back even further in the other direction. It's such an egalitarian set up in the latest TARDIS that the Doctor is at risk of being less interesting than some of her fellow adventurers. They just about got away with it last year - it will be interesting to see whether they can provide enough plot for four regulars while not overshadowing the title character in 2020.
In Summary:
It's harder to see such a throughline for Steven Moffat's work, though. When The Eleventh Hour aired, fans may have had a reasonable idea of what it would be like, but only from the Doctor Who stories he'd written when Davies was showrunner. While zinger-strewn dialogue might have been prevalent in his previous work, would the puzzle box plots, fairy tale / superhero logic, and old school adventure trappings have been guessed at based on a viewing of Coupling or Press Gang or Joking Apart? It all seems to have come from nowhere. Davies has an obvious (albeit maybe subconscious) inspiration: John Wyndham, whose stories all lean towards the domestic apocalyptic. Steven Moffat clearly has interest in many more literary influences, from a few decades before The Day of the Triffids: HG Wells, Stevenson, Conan-Doyle, Bram Stoker. Would it be too much to hope for him to tackle a Jules Verne next? That would seem to complete the set.A pattern emerges somewhat: Moffat's work (sometimes with an ally of the same sensibilities in co-writer/producer Mark Gatiss) tends to focus on a charismatic man (always a man) with superhuman skills of some kind, who exists as the central hub for all other character's interactions, and all other characters are defined by relationship to him. That's how the Doctor is in Moffat's era, and its how Sherlock and Jekyll acted in his other series also. It's not a million miles different from Davies's "Lonely God" persona for the Doctor, and his impact on others in those earlier stories, but a slight tweak of emphasis makes a vast difference in intent. Davies's stories are usually told from the point of view of the companions or other characters, and this creates more of a gang show feel for the regular cast: Rose, Donna, Captain Jack, Sarah Jane, even Mickey and Martha, are effectively co-leads, and can operate effectively without the Doctor as stars of their own show (literally in some cases, metaphorically in the rest). The companions and regular characters of the Moffat era, as colourful as they, operate as sidekicks most of the time.
Interestingly, Chris Chibnall has swung things back even further in the other direction. It's such an egalitarian set up in the latest TARDIS that the Doctor is at risk of being less interesting than some of her fellow adventurers. They just about got away with it last year - it will be interesting to see whether they can provide enough plot for four regulars while not overshadowing the title character in 2020.
In Summary:
Brand new thing in the same old drag.
