We was getting nowhere

For the first time in a long time, I watched a Doctor Who episode twice.  I used to do this regularly on writer Stephen Moffat's episodes; in fact it usually took at least three watches for me to figure out his plots.  I'm a bear of little brain.

For "Wild Blue Yonder", the second of Russell T Davies' bridging episodes leading up to the intro of the next Doctor, Ncuti Gatwa (whose Rwandan first name is pronounced something like "Shooty" - he's another sexy Scot), the plot is easy enough for me to follow, but I had to go back to check a particular moment.

If you haven't seen the episode and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading.  (But I'm really pleased you're here!)

"Wild Blue Yonder" reminds me strongly of "Midnight", a Tennant episode from his third season,  In WBY, there are also formless malevolent beings who are using enfleshed beings to manifest themselves and take over - in this case, the Doctor and Donna, who have crash-landed on a marooned space-ship hovering in nothingness on the edge of nowhere, due to an accident involving coffee.

As promised, the special was scary, and provided a nice illustration of the advanced acting skills of Tennant and Tate.  Predictably, the Resident Fan Boy was particularly impressed with Catherine Tate's performance, while I admired Tennant's dramatic acrobatics.  Years ago, he switched seamlessly between the frenetic Doctor and the repressed John Smith in "Human Nature/Family of Blood" (my very favourite DW episode).  Here, he transformed himself by adopting the empty-eyed black stare of a predator. Brrrrrr.

Next episode is predicted to be one of Russell T Davies' world-gone-ape**** extravanganzas.  I tend to not quite like those.  We'll see.

When watching the previous Doctor Who special episode "Star Beast", I was startled to hear Donna declare that her grandfather Wilf was alive and well, because I knew Bernard Cribbins had died in the summer of 2022. In fact, I'd screen-saved this rather wonderful re-imagining of the Sergeant Pepper album cover, illustrating Cribbins' career, which went so far beyond Doctor Who:

And then (this is another spoiler - you've been warned), "Wild Blue Yonder" drew to a close, and there was Wilfred Mott, in his wheelchair.  It was the only scene Bernard Cribbins managed to film, a few weeks before he died at age 93.

Which left me with this earworm (composer Ted Dicks and lyricist Myles Rudge).  I've had worse.

Furby or not Furby

Iphis texted me this week.

Have you seen the new episode of Doctor Who!!

Had I seen the new episode -- who does he think I am? (Okay, let's not go there...) I cheerfully replied that I had seen it at the earliest opportunity.  I hadn't planned to, but the Resident Fan Boy had tuned in to  Disney Plus at the moment of release, and I just happened to return from the coffee shop at the same instant.  I sat down to watch a few minutes, and, of course, ended up watching the whole thing, and was late for Demeter's breakfast call.  It was David Tennant, after all, narrower than ever, and now with a deeply lined brow.

Iphis was, I suspect, especially excited about Russell T Davies' carefully inclusive story.  (If you haven't seen the "Star Beast", and wish to be surprised, you might want to stop reading about here - and I thank you for reading at all.)

"Star Beast"'s plot turns upon a number of circumstances, one being the fact that an important security office uses a wheelchair, and a major one being the gender identification of Donna's daughter Rose.  It's the inclusivity that, no doubt, thrilled Iphis and, undoubtedly, irritated and infuriated a certain cohort of Whovians. They're just going to have to suck it up, as I'm sure this is how Russell T Davies intends to continue.  

I understand this week's episode (which begins in less than an hour, as I type this) is supposed to be very scary and not particularly child-friendly, and the finale of this David Tennant three-parter will be over-the-top crazy, which is usually where RTD leaves me behind.

"Star Beast", with all its modern sensibilities, is a bit of the gentler, family-friendly outing, and even features a Furby-like creature called The Meep.  Sounds precious, doesn't it?  (You know you're in trouble if a creature is voiced by the not-at-all reassuring Miriam Margolyes.). The plot reminds me strongly of "Smith and Jones" from Tennant's second season as The Doctor.  You've been warned.

I plan to head out to Demeter before this morning's first broadcast of the apparently terrifying next Doctor/Donna outing - mainly so she gets breakfast, rather than brunch, but also so my hands don't shake the tray.

No rules

Actually, there are plenty of rules.  The structure's harder to see.  The past seven months remind me of the nine months the Resident Fan Boy languished between jobs, a few years before we became parents. 

I found my comfort then, as I do now, in a mixture of the new and the familiar.  

This is one of my favourite scenes from the 2001 British comedy/drama series Bob and Rose.  Written by Russell T Davies, it was a major reason I started watching Doctor Who -- aside from David Tennant, of course.  Davies based his story on something that actually happened to a couple of his friends:  a gay man who, to his astonishment, fell in love with a straight woman.

This is about halfway through the drama.  Bob and Rose, seeing no future in their relationship have broken up about twice, and we overhear their inner thoughts while watching the dancers in their respective favoured nightclubs in Manchester.

Aside from the wit and the acting, I'm very enamoured of the music, which seems to be a dreamy mixture of Pachelbel and Orff.