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It’s the Doctor’s tragedy in a nutshell. He meets an extraordinary woman, and in the space of an afternoon, falls in love with her, is challenged by her, and then loses her across the unspannable abyss of death…
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.
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!”
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…
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