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How I bawled and bawled, the first time I saw this episode. Because this is it, right here, the Doctor’s tragedy, and the tragedy of everyone who loves him: he’s destined to be lonely, and we’re destined to be left because he thinks he can deny the loneliness by shutting us out when we get too close.
The most interesting stuff in this episode is not the werewolf — not that the werewolf ain’t cool and all. It’s the Doctor and Rose, and how relaxed and easy with each other they suddenly are.
Man, this is a bleak show. Not bleak about how the universe is out to get poor (almost) defenseless planet Earth or anything like that. Bleak about people. About how damaged we all are, even the healthiest of us, and about how hard it is to find people we can at least be comfortably damaged with.
Lying on his coat, on the applegrass, gazing at the ridiculously romantic skyline of New New York, that’s the time, Rose. I want to shout at her, at that moment, every time I watch this episode: “Kiss him, you fool!”
I’m probably in the minority on this, but I like that there turned out to be no psychopathic alien influence at work here. I like that ‘Torchwood’ isn’t pretending that you have to leave the planet or import creatures from outer space in order to find terrible things.
Maybe it seems silly, at first glance, to be discussing the David Tennant episodes in reverse order of season — I’ve just wrapped up the “Harold Saxon” arc, and here we are back in the “Torchwood” arc, Tennant’s first season and Billie Piper’s last. But I’m glad I did it this way, because if I’d done it the other way around…
It’s funny, but as much as I really like ‘Torchwood,’ rewatching it is not quite as much fun as rewatching ‘Doctor Who.’ I never get tired of ‘Doctor Who,’ and I constantly find new stuff to hash over in those episodes — these, not so much. They’re fun, and I’m certainly not saying that I dislike the show, but it’s not as rich in material as ‘Who’ is.
With this episode, for the first time, I compared the British broadcast with the version that aired on Sci Fi, and I’m furious! Sci Fi cut out some really vital stuff, vital to plot and theme and character and color.
See, this is what happens when you treat the tea boy like, well, he’s the tea boy. On the other hand, when your girlfriend gets mutated into a sexy-metal-bikini-wearing alien cyborg, sometimes you just have to let her go.
“The Master is Prime Minister of Great Britain… the Master and his wife?” Lucy is such a wonderful conundrum. She clearly knows her husband is up to a whole bunch of No Good, and is cool with that, but does she know the real deal with him? Does she know he’s an alien? Or does she lie in bed with him at night and wonder about that strange echo in his heartbeat?
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