1) From “The Beast Below”: There was a bad day. Bad stuff happened, and you know what? I’d love to forget it all, every last bit of it. But I don’t. Not ever. ‘Cause this is what I do—every time, every day, every second. This.
Whither the Time War angst? Here, I think, was the moment we all had to acknowledge that this was not Ten, and not Nine either: the whole oppressive, brooding cloud that sat over four seasons of the show replaced with “bad stuff happened.” Not that we fully believe his casualness, but here, at last, was a sign that the Doctor might be genuinely moving on, coping with his guilt and grief, and channeling it into something good. Amy gets it right, later, when she asks us to imagine being that alone: “your whole race dead … no future. What couldn’t you do then?” It’s an echo of Ten’s realization in “The Waters of Mars” that the last of the Time Lords isn’t bound by the Time Lords’ rules, but here Amy’s implicit faith takes what was once hubris and transforms it into humility.
2) From “Flesh and Stone”: What else have you got?!?! River! Tell me!
Eleven is not a god. He’s fallible and fragile and snappish. He gets scared, and we know it. And when he’s really scared, he makes mistakes, and he lashes out. This is the scene that drove all of that home for me. He’s left Amy in the woods and now has no way to protect her. He’s screwed up massively. He has no good plan, so he’s telling her to walk like she can see. He’s frustrated and half-panicked, and he’s just heard the woman next to him may kill him some day. Oh, and then there’s this crack that’s eating time … . No wonder he breaks. Watch Alex Kingston jump in that scene—I don’t think that was acting.
3) From “The Lodger”: You’re important.
Ten was out to save the universe; Eleven will save a crying child. Even when that crying child is a grown man who’s not actually crying and stupidly touched the alien rot. I can’t believe this scene hasn’t gotten more attention because it is, for me, the scene that defines Eleven above all others: the gentleness, the paternalness, and the honest respect and concern for individuals that have driven him all season are all hallmarks of his character and of this scene. This is not the man who casually told Donna she wasn’t important, or explained to Adelaide Brooke that he’d only ever saved “little” people from fixed points in time, or railed at Wilf for being stupid and ordinary and not worth saving. This is, however, the same man who finally walked into that radiation booth to save Wilf: the man who couldn’t watch Mandy Tanner cry, and cared about Isabella’s name, and cared about Vincent’s pile of good things, and has been trying, the whole season, to fix the little Scottish girl he accidentally broke.
This is also why this season has been my favorite in television history.
Just needed this on my blog.
*hugs this post*
I love every single Doctor more than I ever thought possible.
I love the First Doctor for somehow managing to be a grumpy old man trying to control a rowdy group of kids, and at the same time being a rebellious youth desperate to prove just how smart he really is.
I love the Second…