Eleven is a Fairy Tale

Hi, I’m nerdly.  That’s a username, an adjective, and an aspiration all in one.  I’m here to talk about the Doctor.

Doctor who?  The man in the blue box, of course.

I first met the Doctor when I was very young, and visiting a friend.  We were playing with her Barbies, I think, and a sound I’ve since heard described as a “wailing of theremins” startled me out of Barbieland and over to the TV.  After some headachey special effects, a tall man with crazy hair and the longest, stripiest scarf I’d ever seen walked out of a blue box.

I am ashamed to say I went back to the Barbies.  I was six then, I had some leeway.  Not so the next time.  In 2005, when I heard that BBC was bringing the show back, I wasn’t particularly interested.  Hindsight, oh hindsight.

Still, mourning my past foolishness will not get me to the subject of this blog, which is: Why Series Five Is/Is Not Fantastic.

Is Fantastic:

Fish and custard. Really, the entire sequence.  Bacon is poison, beans are evil, bread and butter must stay out, “You’re Scottish, fry something.”

Handcuffs. The scene which, if any self-respecting fanfic writers were watching, hit LJ approximately 6.2 minutes after the credits rolled.  There have been some tantalizing setups before, Ten and Martha sharing a bed, etc., but this one is really stellar, and only gets better after the Kiss-A-Gram conversation.

The bloody Queen! Liz Ten, or would it be Liz X?  Whichever your preference, this lady kicks some serious booty. She sneaks around in a mask and cloak, with a handgun.  All she needs is a sword, and she’d give V a run for his Vendetta.

Dalek serving tea. Don’t get me wrong, I hate Daleks.  Creepy little monotone sociopaths. However, a Dalek who can resist his racial imperatives long enough to not only infiltrate Churchill’s HQ, but then brings tea! In a cup and saucer! is quite the Dalek in my book.

Angel Bob. I was so angry when Bob got lured by the angels.  Bob was cool.  BUT THEN BOB WAS BACK.  And snarking on the angels, and giving away their plots!  Bob is the best underpriest killed by a statue and revived to liaison with the enemy EVER.

RIVER. Oh, River.  River Song.  I knew we were going to meet you again, I mean, clearly you can’t show up claiming to be a guy’s wife and then vanish forever.  I am enchanted by your entrance.  A blackmailed and blackmailing prisoner, led around by SWAT priests, out-talking the Doctor, out-maneuvering the SWAT priests, kicking angels and taking names.

Vincent and Amy’s ginger kids. Ok, don’t shoot me. I don’t think Vincent’s in any fit state to father children, I love Rory, and I love Rory&Amy, but stop for a moment and imagine the impact on the universe, of those brilliantly ginger genes in combination.  The fire of a thousand suns comes to mind.

The Doctor is my flatmate. And stop.  Who hasn’t daydreamed about that?  An alien, with two hearts and a sonic screwdriver, in your second bedroom.  A handy lift to anywhere, anywhen, stashed in the basement. A killer Scrabble partner. And he can cook. We just won’t talk about kicking your butt at everything, your girlfriend trying to fall for him, etc., because in the end, all that matters is that he ended up in your kitchen in a towel.

Hey Sweetie! River tweets.

Centurion through the ages. RORY.  I love Rory.  He doesn’t give up, doesn’t get bitter, just sticks to his girl, bless his plastic heart.  He drags the Pandorica out of a bombed-out building, and then comes back invisible, to wait for Ponds.

Is Not Awesome:

Space Whale – I can’t.  There aren’t words. For me, the worst part of this was that I wasn’t expecting it.  It was so horrible, so unthinkable, I couldn’t see it as an option.

Priests: SWAT of the future. This creeps my independent protestant heart out.  Forget the inevitable conflict of interest, forget that following orders is a choice of free will, not a right and holy calling, forget all of that.  Does anyone remember the Crusades?  Yeah.  That.

Vampire mer-aliens. I was ok with the vampire girls, I was ok with the creepy mother/son duo, I was ok with Rory dressed up Venetian.  SO NOT OK with the mer-aliens that eat people.  I don’t know, maybe it was some childhood nightmare of mine.

Creepy children luring people up disappearing staircases. Yes, I was one of those people who hid from Gas-Mask Boy, and I still don’t think “Are you my mummy?” is a very good joke.

Alliance [of EVIL]. I think they actually may have invented some bad guys for this.  Maybe not, the Doctor’s got plenty of enemies, but what really stretches my suspension of disbelief is that all of them could work together.  Ever.  Getting the Pandorica planned, designed, or created at all should have been beyond them, but then they baited the trap, too?  Nah.

In conclusion:

I have very few arguments with Davies as the mind behind Who.  But I am charmed and intrigued by Moffat’s take on the Doctor, the whimsical trickster, the mysterious wizard, the wandering Time Lord.  The story has shifted from the heavy, humanly emotional drama that sometimes took over Davies’ Who to a will-o-the-wisp fairy tale that may shift dimensions if you blink.  It’s still adult, but it’s more for children at the same time.  The Doctor has become more alien again, with his bow tie and fez.

I love it.