written by Russell T. Davies; produced by Phil Collinson; directed by Euros Lyn
It certainly begins badly � Euros Lyn is possibly the most overrated director Doctor Who has ever known, and his derivative fight scenes with their sub-Matrix slow motion and action-o-matic shutter speed do nothing but turn me away. It�s hardly an exciting action scene if I can�t see what�d going on, and all it is is a blur of red robes and fists. It�s punctuated by silly dialogue (�By what power? The hand of God?� �No�the fist of man!�) and strange characters who care more about what�s been brought in under a canvas than the fact that they�ve all been handcuffed together.
Now we come to a very contentious issue � the new series�s most brazen pop-culture reference. I�ve tried to avoid getting into the whole debate about whether they�re a good thing or a bad thing, although I will say that there are too many of them throughout the series. But this one is most brazen of all, with the Doctor pounding the TARDIS console in time to Ian Dury�s �Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick� � this moves me to comment, as it�s done with a sledgehammer (actually, it makes the scene feel quite vulgar). I think the problem with the pop-culture, if there is one (your taste) is that it makes the Doctor all too human; as Lawrence Miles said in his review of Love & Monsters, in the new series the Doctor is just another child who goes through the magic wardrobe, rather than being the eccentric uncle that owns it (I�ve got a lot of time for Miles, even though much of what he says is nonsense). Watching David Tennant leap about while Rose calls him �punk with a bit of rockabilly� makes me wonder if the character has ever been less interesting.
It�s very nice � and actually quite clever � to see Tennant put on his natural Scottish accent for many scenes in this episode, although it raises the question of why Russell T. Davies and Phil Collinson don�t just let him use his natural one all the time anyway. Billie Piper�s forced play-acting is distinctly unfunny though. It�s made up for by the delightful scene where Queen Victoria is introduced, and she�s very well acted by Pauline Collins. However, the constant �we are not amused� hokum marks the beginning of the end for Rose � the end of her being a likeable character, that is. Formerly one of the best companions ever, throughout the course of the second series she degenerates into a slack-jawed grinning brat, breezing through her own self-absorbed world making obnoxious wisecracks. But enough of that for now, as later episodes show that more clearly.
The telescope looks fantastic, and it has to be said that on the rare occasions when Lyn isn�t overreaching himself trying to wow the viewer he does have considerable flair; that and the BBC remains the acknowledged master of period settings. Still in its fairly early stages, the episode is quite fun and there are some great moments, like Rose finding a terrified maid hiding in her wardrobe.
Queen Victoria belittling Captain Reynolds for his obsequiousness is possibly Davies�s best moment as a writer, but he follows it up with one of his major failings: his tendency to have his characters speak in melodramatic soliloquies. So it is that Her Majesty gets a long monologue about death, drenched in strings from Murray Gold, that�s so twee I can�t believe nobody said anything.
Veering wildly between good and bad, we are now presented with the episode�s best feature by far: the Host. Brilliantly played by Tom Smith, it comes across as a creature uncomfortable in a human body and longing for an animal release; restless and twitching, it single-handedly racks up the tension with its brilliant design and interesting dialogue. The transformation effect is similarly impressive, but I�m not sure if I�d call this episode genuinely scary as it�s so shallow that it can�t quite get into my head like others have done. It�s a very exciting watching Rose and the other prisoners desperately trying to escape while the wolf tears the cage to pieces, and the scene showcases the classic that this episode has the potential to be. Really, it makes it quite frustrating. The wolf itself is an advert for the Mill, and elevates every shot it�s in; meanwhile, the technical restraints that mean that only glimpses and shadows can be seen for large parts of the episode make it all the more effective.
Queen Victoria shoots Father Angelo dead very casually, which is especially rich since she just had that big monologue about the frailty of human life not three minutes previously, and is another example of the peculiar characterisation of some episodes of this series where characters switch opinions in moments. Outside the dining hall there�s the long chase sequence, which is a well-made and exciting scene but which feels slightly soulless since it�s so concerned with pushing the audiences� buttons rather than actually furthering the story. Captain Reynolds�s unseen death is very effective though, and the mistletoe repelling the wolf is good imagery.
Things slow down suddenly in the library, but not to the point where you wonder where the plot has gone and the Doctor has a good, quiet, contemplative moment while working out where the wolf has come from. It does show up how woefully self-amused the episode is though: �Tell you what though. Werewolf.� �I know! What a wonderful monster Russell has given us this week!� It�s spelled S-M-U-G. And oh look, a gay joke�is it even funny, or in context? His deliberate, contrived controversy is one thing that really irritates me about Davies�s writing.
The idea that the telescope is a trap within a trap is very nice, but in practice it feels rushed as the Doctor makes an awfully big leap in connecting the Koh-i-noor diamond to the trap � I like the Doctor to uncover the mystery by intelligence, not clairvoyance. The wolf�s death though, with it�s chilling last line of �make it brighter�let me go� is very good indeed.
This would be the point where Davies hopes we don�t notice that the rest of the monks have just vanished from the narrative (is a single shot of them running off too much to ask?), which is terrible construction � instead it�s replaced with the indulgent knighthood scene, complete with platitude, and the incredibly bad taste haemophilia gag. That�s right, gag. The disease, according to this episode is �maybe just a Victorian euphemism.� I�m sure all the sufferers out there found that hilarious�would he have said that about cancer?
And just to cap it all there�s the final coda, which consists of an advert for Davies�s own pet-project, Torchwood. I suppose you could say it also sets up the finale, although the series�s publicity telling us all this in advance nullifies its effect completely and it makes me wonder what having the word �Torchwood� mentioned every episode is supposed to achieve. After all, Bad Wolf was effective because nobody knew what it meant.
Tooth And Claw really, really irritates me�but it impresses me in equal measure and that only serves to make it all the more frustrating as there�s so obviously a classic there struggling to get out. It has a lot to recommend it, but it�s so very, very pleased with itself that it ends up shooting itself in the foot. It still makes an average rating, but it�s so much less than it could have been.
Overall: ***
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