Wednesday, 31 December 2008
The Next Doctor (2008)
Doctor Who's 2008 Christmas special. Fair enough; and we all settled down, plump with food, to watch it. Before it had got through a quarter of its allotted--David Morrissey seemingly the Next Doctor, though afflicted with amnesia by the Cybermen, accompanied by his assistant the standard-issue attractive young female (Velile Tshabalala)--my sister said: 'I reckon what's happened here is that he's the assistant, and she's the actual Next Doctor. He's got amnesia, and she's letting him carry on thinking he's the Doctor to protect him, or something like that.' We all went: mmmn! and aaah! and hunkered deeper into the settees to watch the rest of the programme. But one consequence of having in mind so clever a twist (for it would have made sense of the story in various ways, not least the script's inchoate proto-feminism) was that the actual narrative denou. seemed monstrously lame and inconsequential. I mean, I think I would have found it lame and inconsequential anyway; but the way it jarred against my sister's much better idea meant its lameness and inconsequentiality assumed monstrous proportions. If I hadn't been made torpid by turkey I'd have given voice to my disapproval.