written by Steven Moffat; produced by Phil Collinson; directed by James Hawes
It doesn�t begin all too well though: the pre-titles sequence, like Steven Moffat�s later episode The Girl In The Fireplace, is hurried and manic to the point where it becomes bewildering. Something hurtles through space but before you�ve had a chance to take it in suddenly Rose and the Doctor are hurling lines at each other, the camera shakes and cuts all over the shop and jokes go by too fast to tell if they�re funny or not. The scene has merit though, not inherently but in contrast; the jarring effect of the dark, quiet alleyway after the titles is very effective and it becomes clear very quickly that this is going to be far more than a normal episode.
Moffat�s script is genuinely funny, and his roots in comedy have the strange effect of making the episode all the more serious. His sense of exactly when to crack a joke means that it never feels inappropriate or that it�s sending the series up, and that means that the humour in the episode never undermines the more serious aspects. It�s possible in this story to go from a light-hearted moment into a serious one without a pause as the jokes feel natural, arising out of the situation. In short, the jokes are funny because they feel like the kind of things that the characters actually would say; they are believable as people, not just actors reciting lines in front of a camera.
James Hawes is a funny director � I held off really making a judgement at the time because I only had this two-parter to go on, but in the light of subsequent episodes I�d make this judgement: he is a very good director, but only within strictly defined limits. He can�t do action, for example, as the flat and unengaging sword fight in The Christmas Invasion attests. His real skill lies in atmosphere, and so fortunately he is here given an episode with ambience in spades. But this is a slight bone of contention with the episode though, as although the episode looks absolutely beautiful it has a very idealised and romanticised quality to it. The grim realism of The Curse Of Fenric is nowhere to be seen, and instead we are presented with a simulacrum of the Blitz: where an artificial and artistic version of it stands in for the real thing. The period detail is near faultless but the heightened, exaggerated visuals undermine any claim to realism, unless the 1940s really were sepia tinted. What enables me to still appreciate it is, exaggerated though it may be, it�s truly gorgeous to look at.
The first sight of the child is probably in my top ten moments of brilliant direction, with the camera cutting sharply closer and closer to gradually reveal more and more of the grotesque, faceless figure. It�s intercut nicely with the sweet revelation in the club of where they have landed.
The barrage balloon sequence, which surely has to head the CVs of everyone at the Mill, is wildly excessive but bear in mind that Moffat wrote it to try and get one over on Russell T. Davies�s command to make the episode big � he never actually expected it to be made. Maybe the episode would have been more believable if the production team had actually got the joke, but then believability isn�t really the order of the day with the superficial details of this episode; what gives it its credibility is the thought that Moffat has put into the plot and core concept. Besides, it does look fantastic; the problem with CGI for me is that it always looks like what it is, a kind of mock-three-dimensional cartoon, but this sequence gets away with it remarkably well, possibly because of the low light. It�s not quite as impressive as the Reapers from Father�s Day (the Mill�s best work, in my opinion), but it�s still a credit to the production team.
The Doctor has a seriously classy moment with the cat in the alley � with the tenth Doctor this would seem like an inappropriately human moment, but with the charismatic and engaging Christopher Eccleston onscreen it adds to his portrayal of that most alien of characters. The ringing telephone is very creepy, partly because of the imagery and iconography of the child is so skilfully presented (the effect on the viewer is akin to the chess pieces and silver spheres of the Yeti stories) and partly because it does something new and subversive with the most recognisable of Doctor Who�s features: the TARDIS. When Doctor Who was first broadcast police boxes were ordinary, everyday objects; that was their point. But in the 21st Century they are an image of science-fiction, no longer recognised for what they really are. You see them on screen, and you don�t think �phone box�, you think �time machine�. The brilliance of this scene is in recognising that, and by taking the design back to it�s phone box roots it becomes mildly disturbing � both because it reminds us that the shape is really a disguise and that therefore is impossible, and because it brings home to the viewer the eccentricity of the whole thing. More than any other, possibly ever, this scene demonstrates how unique the TARDIS is in fiction.
�Keep yer voice dahn, issan air raid!� Mr and Mrs Lloyd scrabble desperately across the garden but still manage to play a �how many 1940s working-class stereotypes can you fit into a single minute� game. These are truly not believable as human beings; they go back to the exaggerated presentation of the period, which while acceptable in a purely aesthetic sense, is less plausible when the viewer is asked to engage with characters. It isn�t helped by the stagy acting of Damien Samuels, which puts me in mind of Jamie Foreman from The Idiot�s Lantern � it couldn�t be more of a performance if he winked at the camera. Mr Lloyd doesn�t interact with any other character until Nancy�s capture in the second episode; until then it might be more accurate to class him as scenery. By contrast, Nancy is a wonderful character largely because of Florence Hoath�s naturalistic acting that seems more plausible in contrast to what goes on around her � she remains the most sympathetic character of the series.
Then of course there�s Captain Jack, a controversial character who�s action-hero shenanigans have alienated some because of how they jar with Doctor Who�s left-field ethos. I never hated him, and I quite like John Barrowman, but I�m not convinced he�s the best conceived character. That said this is definitely his finest hour, even though Hawes�s spurious cut to his grinning face makes the episode feel like a toothpaste commercial for a brief second. His request to Rose that she switch off her phone is funny but is very much a written gag rather than a naturalistic witticism � a satirical dig at modern technology that would be more appropriate in a science-fiction comedy. Jack�s spaceship is an excellent piece of design, even though it appears to be gas lit. Pretty much every interior has that same golden glow; only the TARDIS escapes.
The gang of child actors are mildly irritating, but then child actors always are; I don�t want to criticise the water for being wet, as it were. They do provide foil for Eccleston, and help to make his scene in the Lloyds�s house so charming. They also help the mystery along, as the Doctor has the opportunity to remind us of his phone that isn�t a phone, and add to it a bomb that isn�t a bomb. Moffat really milks the two part format here. The child attacks again after this � his scariness comes from his innocence, and the way the other characters are so terrified of something that hasn�t yet been revealed to the audience as genuinely threatening. We have no idea what�s so dangerous about the child at this stage, although we don�t doubt that there�s something. This isn�t one of those set-ups where indulgent silliness is followed immediately by emotional manipulation; this is something that truly knows how to work.
So Jack has his own psychic paper, which Moffat makes a joke about; this is a joke aimed at Doctor Who though, and I�m never happy about the show sending itself up, something that goes right back to the �thick� Dalek from The Chase. In faint mitigation Moffat picks the right thing to mock: the psychic paper is an incredibly lazy plot device that could just about be acceptable if it wasn�t so overused. In retrospect the nanogenes are not a subtle set-up for the finale, but bear in mind that there have been plenty of finales that haven�t had any set up at all (Love & Monsters). Even so, this scene shows the episode just about getting the basics right and while that�s of course appreciated it doesn�t deserve gushing praise. There is also a touch of shaky plotting here, with the contrivance of the TARDIS landing at precisely the perfect moment for Jack�s carefully-timed con to work.
Nancy�s gentle teasing of the Doctor shows one of the episode�s real strengths: Eccleston is light here but never in manic grinning-goon mode, the kind of thing that let down other episodes and prevents him from ranking up with the very best Doctors. This sees him almost at his best, and his scenes with Nancy � when taken in isolation � portray a Doctor more sympathetic than he�s ever been since The War Games.
It�s a nice touch how the Doctor can scan for alien technology if he wants to but presents a fa�ade to Rose, and his speech to Nancy is genuinely poignant and life-affirming, being understated enough not to come across as too much of a platitude.
There is some good exposition with Richard Wilson as the plot is revealed in a sense that feels genuinely evocative; this is what makes the episode scary, the way it gets inside your head. The gas-masked zombies are scary for being people with their identities removed; while the individual designs made the Autons less effective (they were never supposed to be individualistic) here it becomes more effective. The removal of their faces, while retaining their clothes, presents the idea that they used to be people, but aren�t anymore. This is the kind of attitude presented in Rise Of The Cybermen but there the desire to force the point home made it less effective. The Empty Child is effective for letting people notice this doe themselves. Add to this the genuine originality of the plot: �physical injuries as plague�. What an idea. This is what makes Dr Constantine�s transformations scary � it has a psychological effect rather than a purely visual one. The transformation of Tooth And Claw looks scary enough but the episode is so shallow that it doesn�t penetrate beyond a superficial level: here we see the last refuge of humanity in the hospital lose it and become one of the legion, and you really feel for him.
�Mr Spock� is smug, and that�s saying nothing for the old �Doctor Who?� gag that�s been wheeled out yet again, clashing with otherwise such a sophisticated episode. Jack�s explanation of his con is intriguing but highlights the plot hole � how did he know that the Doctor and Rose would land in time for the con to work properly? And wouldn�t he have to give the money back? The repetition in the next episode is a sacrifice of integrity in favour of the programme�s format. It�s only a minor point and doesn�t detract, but the only real problem is that it is left until the second episode before the audience is conclusively told that Jack programmed the cylinder not to hit anything � the viewer is left to go into the credits believing that Jack was responsible for killing Jamie.
The cliffhanger is effective but basically standard stuff, although the resolution leads to a superb one-liner that feels very appropriate. There�s lots of running around in this episode though, with even Moffat falling prey to two-parter syndrome where all the mystery is packed into the first episode and the running down corridors into the second. It�s still a good episode, but it isn�t quite as effortless as part one; the tape of the child, and the typewriter scene, are very much constructs of imagery and their attempt to affect the audience is in such a tried-and-tested style that it doesn�t feel right without a Hammer Horror-style score.
After the Doctor and Rose get teleported away the episode picks up again, and its five-star rating isn�t seriously threatened. The zombies coming to life really does feel like Armageddon is at hand, but the barbed wire scene � despite being an excellent character moment from the era when Rose was likeable � goes further than ever towards turning the sonic screwdriver into a magic wand.
When Technology Goes Bad seems to be a theme of Moffat�s, but like in The Girl In The Fireplace it�s given a really original spin here, and it makes it even stranger to think that this episode is so dark and scary despite having no antagonist and a mortality rate of 0%. The �teenage single mother� scene is poignant and not manipulative, but �I will always be your mummy� is a cheesy line. On a surface level it also appears to be nonsense, like promising not to turn into a badger or something, but it just about works in the context of someone who has been pretending to be the boy�s sister. It�s hard to be cynical though, even with Constantine�s joke � yes it pushes the story into sitcom territory again, but it�s funny. Even Jack�s plight with the bomb feels real, and the Martini is a nice touch.
So then � this is what the series is capable of. The easiest way to end this review would be to go off on a �so why do we have to put up with�� tangent, but I shall remain positive. The flaws in this episode aren�t ones that detract from it, but the kind that affect everything, including the very best episodes. While I wouldn�t go so far as to shoehorn it into my top ten, it�s still a fine, fine episode and one that makes me truly glad that Doctor Who is back.
Overall: *****
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