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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…
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.
“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?
Why am I being tormented so? I was fine. I was comfortable. I was resigned to the fact that I was going to have to live my life here on boring old Earth at the tedious pace of 60 minutes to the hour, seven days to the week, 365 days to the year, ten years to the decade.
(intro to my Who blogging, please read before commenting / previous: Episode 9: “The Family of Blood”) Apart from the obvious issue of there not being enough David Tennant this time around, this has got to be one of the single most brilliant episodes of any TV science fiction show ever. It’s mind-bending even grading … more…
I’ve seen him, and he’s like fire and ice and rage. He’s like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He’s ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And… he’s wonderful.
It’s a sickness, I tell ya. A sickness. I hate you, Russell Davies. And I hate you, David Tennant. Hate. Please just go away and take the Doctor out of my head when you leave. I’m begging you.
I’m *so* madly in love with David Tennant’s Doctor. I mean, it’s scary, and sad, how I can’t stop thinking about him. Even in the not-so-awesome episodes like this one. Watching him running around and doing nothing is maybe second only to actually traveling with him on the TARDIS. “Burn with me, Martha”? Ooo, I think I might.
This is like an old-style ‘Doctor Who’ episode: the mad scientist who pushes beyond boundaries of whatever, and the Doctor must stop him, blah blah blah. It’s pretty standard, actually. Most of what’s really fascinating about this episode is on the periphery, or in the background, or doesn’t become obvious until you rewatch it after you’ve seen the entire season.
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