We’re not going to pretend that we can offer anything particularly significant or deep to the chorus of discussion on Doctor Who’s 50th anniversary…
Caecilius est in TARDIS. Caecilius in TARDIS volat.
Well, the Internet and news media alike are all a-flutter after the news that the most popular Doctor of all time is set to quit the role…
Mixing arch social commentary with a restoration of the programme’s sense of fun, this out & out comedy proves completely riveting.
Ultimately, to the man with a streak of ice in his heart, we are all nothing but ghosts – now there’s a truly unsettling idea.
The two crimes that are largely unforgivable are to be downright boring, and/or downright stupid. “Akhaten” manages to be possibly the first episode since “Fear Her” to achieve both.
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A lively, rich, thrilling adventure, it’s tempting – particularly in the way it touches upon the creatures’ own mythology – to call Remembrance the definitive Dalek story.
I’ve got to admit, I was sceptical about this American re-imagining of Doctor Who…
In that one, glorious scene, he turns our safe, cosy expectations about Daleks – those colourful metal creatures the kids love so much – against us.
The combined effect is one of total disorientation, and as such the audience is brought fully into the swing of the production.
For the first time since 2005′s “Dalek”, the villains of the title are presented as a relentless threat.
What’s unexpected is that Moffat doesn’t just post the question of what happens when the Doctor loses his self-control, but also answers it.
It’s an episode that fits a familiar mould – the Doctor shows up in a base where people are doing something they shouldn’t be and things go tits up.
It’s filled with more of Gaiman’s famed tropes than you could shake a wild-haired female personification of an abstract concept in a tatty evening dress at.
Moffat’s arc has blessed this mediocre episode with a mutually beneficial dusting of sparkle.
Just about everything worth discussing in “Day of the Moon” can only be discussed within the context of things we haven’t yet been shown or told.
A work of such quality that even killing this show stone dead seems a bargain price for the entertainment that doing so will offer.
The ‘real Doctor Who fan’ is still a potent figure of ridicule.
What I would have given for this kind of show when I was the age of most of the audience; as, to quote Harold Macmillan, “people have never had it so good”.
I loves me the time travel, is the thing.
I feel completely confident that the role is in the safest hands possible, mainly because you get a real feeling that Smith is not afraid to develop and change.
First up, let’s get the obvious preconceptions out of the way. I think James Corden is shit.
To the list of utterly stellar single-story guest performances in new era Doctor Who, we must surely add Tony Curran.
Character of the week gets upset, fine, I can live with that, whatever. But piss off The Doctor, and I get shit-scared. It *matters*.
The episode had all the excitement of a 1950s cereal commercial, and the pacing of heart transplant surgery.
Not bad for episode seven.
It’s extremely easy to imagine David Tennant’s Doctor leaping out of the stag night’s cardboard cake with aplomb.
The fevered, almost limitless imagination of a man who wants to put pure story first is a thing to be cherished for as long as he’s around.
River Song? He’s her pimp.
“Victory” is what it is – an entertaining romp, lacking in depth and slightly faltering under intense scrutiny.
This is by no means another Blink, but it’s definitely one of the better episodes of its kind.
Matt Smith is so completely The Doctor it’s frankly scary.
I’m sure we’ve each of us got our ideas about writers out there that we think would do a tip-top spiffing job…
“He’s losing it!”, I cried to no one in particular other than the cat (who, frankly, couldn’t give a shit about Doctor Who, the idiot).
Because, now that it’s finished, it seems to have become somewhat fashionable to bash it.