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It’s September 13th, 2014. Literally; the bulk of this post is a lightly revised version of my initial review, which I cheekily declared would be its TARDIS Eruditorum entry without really considering how I’d feel about that three and a half years later. (Answer: I have some regrets, mostly about providing a satisfying experience for my Patrons, but I figured out how to address them.) Lilly Wood and Robin Schulz are at number one with “Prayer in C,” while Iggy Azalea, Sam Smith, and Script also chart. In news, Oscar Pistorius has been found guilty of culpable homicide, the US has been finding a new way to announce that it’s at war with ISIS, and it’s down to the wire with the Scottish Independence referendum.
While on television, Doctor Who does Listen. At the moment, and I’m writing this paragraph about ninety minutes after transmission, this seems set at near universal praise. 85% rating it an 8-10 on GallifreyBase, with a staggering 42.6% giving it a ten out of ten. The immediate post-episode reviews all seem to love it. Blog and Twitter comments are raving, although people who tend not to like Moffat’s stuff seem to really hate this one. Which is to say, ladies and gentlemen, that we seem to have an instant classic. I’ve watched this twice now. And it deserves that and more. It is undoubtedly a “big Steven Moffat statement” of an episode, conceived on the level of The Day of the Doctor or Deep Breath. It is ostentatious and meticulous in the way that Steven Moffat at his best is. This is a writer who knows that he is at the height of his professional career and is cackling madly about it. It is also, unmistakably, him writing the cheap and disposable one with no budget - and doing it, by his own admission, because he wanted to “prove he could still write.”
He’s used the production schedule of Doctor Who very slyly here, doing a story that a twelve episode season requires, as a piece of BBC-produced drama, if it’s going to throw a whacking big CGI dinosaur into the opening three seconds of the season premiere for no reason other than to set up some jokes and a death scene for the Doctor to start investigating a mystery. It’s just that he then wrote it like it was The Big Finale. It draws all its structural tricks from Nick Hurran and Ben Wheatley, and shares its approach with Time of the Doctor and His Last Vow. Except there’s no actual monster - it’s all creepy edits and lighting changes. It could be the Silence. Maybe it is, and we’ll pay that off in some future episode, because this is only episode four and Doctor Who has plenty of surprises left in its back two-thirds. We’re still in the “introduce Peter Capaldi with episodes by the old hands” phase of things. The actual new writers and experimental phase comes later.
All the same, this had been getting buzz. It’s the one nobody could quite keep themselves from talking about when it leaked, whether they just read the script, or whether they were friends of Marcelo Camargo. Because it’s so ostentatiously brash. Clara is the monster under the bed for the Doctor, and teaches him a crucial line of dialogue from 100,000 BC to calm him down. In the barn where the climax of The Day of the Doctor happened, where he was hiding because he didn’t want to be a soldier and was scared. And that’s a detail - the climax of an episode that’s mostly about other things. It’s willfully baiting a certain segment of the audience, to the point where it almost counts as trolling. Those who complain that Moffat messes around too much with Doctor Who continuity will predictably hit the roof.
Let them. It’s nothing Lance Parkin and Lawrence Miles weren’t doing in the 90s. Moffat turns it to a particular purpose and tone - one of predictably fairy tale beauty. The rhythms and cadences of the best moments in Harry Potter. The same stuff he always does. But he’s still good at it. And, I mean, there’s a way in which this typical counterargument to the Moffat era just crumbles at its own mass of evidence. Yes, you’re right, there are an awful lot of recurring tropes of the Moffat era that appear here.
For instance, people teased it for referencing the title of Blink, which it does. The monster you have to not look at to let it get away is, of course, just another iteration of the Silence and the Weeping Angels. The date is just Coupling. Going back and meeting the companion as a child. John Hurt. There’s a nursery rhyme. Monsters under the bed. Silence. The “tap you on the head and make you sleep” gag from Deep Breath. Romantic relationships based on meeting people out of order. Soldiers with PTSD. The Doctor and romance.
Except at some point we have to admit that this is an awfully long list. I mean, that’s twelve separate things Moffat does over and over again. And we could have gone on. That starts to look more like variety than tedium, you know? I mean, at the end of the day Moffat did just drive the series to where it was the #1 program on British television again, something previously only accomplished by Russell T Davies. And instead of walking off stage and doing Miracle Day, he stuck around. Sure, Time of the Doctor (wrongly) got a mixed reception, but Deep Breath went over pretty well, and this probably will too. We’ve got to admit, whatever the guy’s doing, whatever his formula may be, he’s visibly a major television writer at the height of his powers right now.
Through all of this, though, what jumps out is just how precisely measured Listen is. Moffat plays to his strengths ridiculously. He hasn’t done a tone of relationship comedy in the last few years, but it was his bread and butter for a decade, and he hasn’t forgotten how to do it. Clara and Danny are a cute couple, and though the episode seems to suggest that they’re probably not going to last (and neither are Clara and the Doctor by the way), Moffat writes them so that it’s easy to invest in them. Clara is at once visibly a real human with real desires and emotions and the embodiment of “generic companion.”
But again, the suggestion of blandness has depth. She may be the generic companion, but she’s good in an awful lot of situations. She’s great talking down Rupert, and then hands it off smoothly to the Doctor, then takes control back again to help put Rupert to bed before the Doctor does a “dad trick” and returns her to her date so she can try again. There she has a bit of a maternal instinct, which she then goes back to at the end. In between, she’s a self-identified bossy control freak who’s trying to let go and be reasonable and adult in her relationships. Her magic friend’s gotten a bit weird, but he still takes her to cool places like the end of the universe. Sometimes, she becomes the monster under the bed for the greatest hero in the universe, so that’s neat too. All of this feels like facets of a human being. Jenna Coleman has demonstrated that skill from the start, popping up in a random role in Asylum of the Daleks, then playing two different Victorian children’s book heroines, and being absolutely charming as she steps between them. Then she becomes a companion where this is her entire point - she becomes millions of different mini-companions throughout Doctor Who. Now she gets to balance being the lead in the 2014 edition of “Coupling meets Chalk” (good God, who expected we were going to get back to that as an influence in Moffat’s career) with being a Doctor Who companion, in the same scene, with that completely over the top space suit in a restaurant gag. I mean, again, yes, this is repetition, but at some point the sheer size of the thing makes it strange to call that a down side.
Capaldi is similarly good at doing a whole lot of things. The decision to start him with Deep Breath and just have him run through a whole bunch of different things building to the thing that everybody wanted as soon as they heard the idea, which is a scene like “I have a terrible feeling I’m going to have to kill you,” or “there are three people in the universe, and you’re lying to the other two,” or “then you will never travel with me again” (And of course, he can be pushed to such excessive threats just by a desire to poke the darkness at the end of time with a stick in case there’s a monster in it. Which is somewhat silly. It’s easy to see how he could lose Clara, to be honest.) pays off again, and he takes the time here to once again just find a lot of different ways to play things.
He’s very good, is what I’m saying. We’re just a few stories in, but there’s the real sense that he’s figured out how he wants to do this. He’s playing his dream role, and he’s decided to just do it. There was always the implicit comparison to Pertwee, based on a vague physical resemblance and the decision to have that first costume shot be explicitly modeled on a Pertwee publicity photo. But inasmuch as he’s playing the role like Pertwee, it’s in deciding to follow his decision to just be the Doctor. He enjoys playing certain types of roles, and so he’ll play the Doctor like those roles, at times seeming to start over with his characterization every scene. (Along with Pertwee, this is basically how Eccleston played the part.) But equally, he’s an actor who’s enjoyed a diverse career, and so much like Moffat’s repetitions or Clara’s repetitions, this results in a sort of predictable diversity, which is satisfying if you like that kind of thing. Millions of people continue to, so again, Moffat clearly knows how to satisfy an audience. If you’re one of the legions who like this stuff, you’ll like this. And if you’re one of the vocal and non-trivial number of people who hate this stuff, you sure will hate this.
I like this stuff, and I like this. It still feels complex and interesting and fresh and fun. I am loving my Doctor Who. For my money, this is very probably the best opening four stories of any Doctor Who season ever. Hell, for my money this is the best run of seven stories ever. Even if you don’t pick any of the stories as among your top ten. (Though I do pick at least one to be, personally. Amusingly, it’s probably the least popular)
There are already a lot of people declaring this a classic. There probably always will be. It feels a lot like it must have at the height of some of the other legendary Doctor Who eras. Those eras where the show was usually at least watchable fun, might blow it once a season, and would guarantee you at least one or two stories a year that were absolutely brilliant. You know. The great eras. When, over three years, you had The Ark in Space, Genesis of the Daleks, Terror of the Zygons, The Brain of Morbius, The Deadly Assassin, and Talons of Weng-Chiang, and those might not be the best six. Or when you got Remembrance of the Daleks, The Happiness Patrol, Ghost Light, and Curse of Fenric over the course of seven stories, and two of the other three were brilliant in their own strange ways. When everyone making the show is confident of what they’re doing. Such eras always end, but this one is still visibly going strong. Moffat has decided he’s going to go for being ranked with Robert Holmes as arguably the greatest Doctor Who writer of all time, and the truth is, there are people who will make that argument for him. I may well be one of them, whenever it is I get around to being the arbiter of history and writing a book about it. Which I will, inevitably.
Four stories in a row now, and in each case it felt like the production team was in complete control of what they were doing. Like they knew what they wanted to do, and were capable of doing that well. Three out of four, the public has gone with them emphatically. It’s easy to imagine this having a long, exciting legacy as children’s television. What more can you possibly ask for from Doctor Who?