Second of all, I’m caught between dislike of Moffat’s favourite tropes (which are endlessly regurgitated in his scripts), grudging respect for some of his original and brilliant ideas, and a growing sense of discomfort with the on-line vitriol that’s hurled at him. Criticism is fine, and so is a general dislike of the persona he exhibits during interviews (because my god he’s said some twattish things), but I have no wish to get personal on this blog.
Neither do I want to invest too much time on a show that doesn’t exactly enthral me, though I want to make SOME sort of contribution to the discussion.
So – in honour of the twelfth doctor – here are twelve simple observations about Deep Breath.
1. Peter Capaldi. He’s good. A little weird, but good. I guess a part of me is still bitter about him getting snatched from The Musketeers, but it’s nice to have an older man playing this iconic character (and no, I never considered Christopher Eccleston particularly old, and this casting is a nice call-back to William Hartnell).
2. Clara Oswald. It’s taken half a season and a few specials but finally she has something in the way of a personality. It’s a totally informed personality (she’s a control freak? Since when?) but hey – it’s better than being the bland enigma she was introduced as. I mean, she actually lost her temper. And later she was genuinely afraid. Like an actual person.
Oh course, the real irony is that Jenna Coleman is rumoured to be leaving at the end of this season.
3. Victorian Era. Why is it always the Victorian Era? I’m wracking my brains to think of another time period that’s played such a big part – or in fact, any part – during Moffat’s tenure and nothing’s coming to mind. And yeah, some of this is due to the fact that the Paternoster Gang are situated in that particular time and place, and I’ve no doubt the show’s budget plays its part as well. But come on – this show has all of time and space to explore. Why restrict yourself to the Victorians?
Or maybe it’s just an excuse to keep putting Jenna Coleman in period gear. In which case, fair enough.
4. Plotwise, this was very much a mashup of The Girl in the Fireplace and Blink. Only instead of the Madame de Pompadour it’s the Marie Antoinette and instead of “don’t blink” it’s “don’t breath.”
Still, the animatronic restaurant was neat, especially all the clicking, creaking noises, and the sequence when Clara and the Doctor try to leave the restaurant reminded me of a computer game I used to play when I was a kid – with every step you took towards safety, your enemy moved closer to you.
5. The transition phase. Switching from one Doctor to another is always interesting, mainly because it’s difficult to get a grasp of any new Doctor’s personality straight away. We usually only get a few glimpses of it as he works through the regeneration’s adrenaline rush, and it’s the actor’s task is to come across as weird and kooky yet grounded and reliable at the same time.
Capaldi definitely played up the dark and somewhat unpredictable angle, and I like that he didn’t seem particularly concerned over whether or not he’d be appealing to the audience.
But what really struck me is that this is the first time since Rose and the Tenth Doctor that we’ve had a new companion cope with the change. And though the two were both were understandably confused and upset, it’s in the difference that the real interest lies – whereas Rose got herself a (generally speaking) younger and hotter Doctor, Clara is disappointed with the fact that her new one is significantly older and stranger looking (again, generally speaking). I can't help but feel that this was an admonition at the audience as well as Clara, though I've never seen anything on-line but enthusiasm that Peter Capaldi was taking the role.
Still, it was nice to see Matt Smith in that brief cameo one last time, imploring her to stay with him. And dammit, Moffat is good at making the most of the time-travelling aspect of this show. Why shouldn’t the old Doctor call his companion before he regenerates? That’s a great idea!
6. So did you notice that the new Doctor is old? And that he’s Scottish? And that Vastra and Jenny are married? Because nobody could seem to shut up about it.
7. Moffat veers between three types of dialogue: the witty comeback, the droll observation and the cutesy poo catchphrase. It gets so tiring sometimes, and nothing at all like how real people speak. And sure, you could say that on a science-fiction show about a time-travelling alien there’s a need for snappy dialogue, but at the same time your characters have to ground the proceedings instead of coming across as action figures.
8. And too often Moffat explains how clever he’s being instead of just being clever. That whole bit with Vastra and the veil for example. The whole thing comes across as a treatise on the profound psychological implications of the Eleventh Doctor choosing a young face and how this one looks old because he doesn’t care what people think of him and Clara is a shallow, silly girl for not immediately accepting him. Really?
Moffat’s too fond of spelling out these little lessons in ponderous tones instead of just letting it be. I don’t really CARE what the Doctor looks like now or what kind of profound insight Moffat has to share on the matter. He may think that the Doctor looking older has to mean something, but it doesn’t really. It’s just that one actor left and another took his place. The first actor was a young man and this one is older. That’s all.
As it is, it feels like a retcon reminiscent of all that wand lore J.K. Rowling shoved into Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Now suddenly a Doctor’s face provides some deep insight into his character? Since when?
9. And on that note, the interlude with the tramp in which the Doctor goes on about how he’s seen his face before would appear to be setup for why a man who looks exactly like this Doctor has already appeared in The Fires of Pompeii and on Torchwood: Children of Earth.
And again, it’s completely unnecessary. Look, we know that sometimes actors get recycled. It’s okay. We don’t need an explanation for it. Especially since the explanation is bound to be something stupid.
10. And to follow on from that, Moffat is also fond of linking plot-points together. Sometimes it works well, such as using the cracks in the universe to explain why the giant mecha robot in Victorian London disappeared from everyone’s memories. But sometimes it feels like he throws them in randomly in order to come back to them later and pretend it was part of his master plan all along. In this case, he links the mysterious “woman in the shop” who gave Clara the police box number way back in The Bells of Saint John to the equally strange Missy in this episode’s final scene.
Oh, and let’s not forget his fondness for wordplay. Again, sometimes it works well (something old, blue, borrowed and blue for the Tardis) and sometimes it’s ludicrous (SHERlocked), but here it’s pretty middling. Missy apparently put the Impossible Girl advertisement in the paper with the instruction: “see you on the other side.” Turns out that it refers to the restaurant on the opposite side of the page, a needlessly convoluted puzzle that requires Missy to have full control over the placement of advertisements in a paper that she somehow knew was going to end up in both Clara and the Doctor’s hands.
Why not simply send them both a letter? I guess because she’s characterized as an ego-centric game player, but there’s got to be easier ways!
12. So, I was pretty lukewarm about all this, and I’m afraid this review might sound less enthusiastic than I necessarily mean it to. I didn’t think this was a particularly good episode; it had a lot of weird stop-start pacing and a lot of it seemed designed to look cool rather than have any particular importance to the plot (the spontaneously combusting dinosaur, the hot-air balloon made of skin), but it was an entertaining enough ninety minutes. Let's see how it all pans out...
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