When one hears the phrase ‘Christmas Special’, one tends to think about terrible American sitcoms that involve people buying the wrong presents for each other, and eating turkey.  And there is, I think, a tendency for people to want something light and fluffy for their Christmas Day viewing. To an extent, The Christmas Invasion, does do this. But, it also has the massive job of introducing a whole new incarnation of the Doctor, and reestablishing his relationship with his companion – Rose – and the people he knows. So in a sense, having Christmas occur in the background makes a lot of sense – there is a lot of imagery already associated with Christmas involving birth, the beginning of a new era, and all that. Whether this was just a happy coincidence, however, we’ll never know.

What do we do when the Doctor isn’t there to save us? Indeed, it is the Doctor who needs saving the most here, which makes for some interesting Doctor Who. This could almost be seen as a Doctor-lite episode, simply because he doesn’t do very much except lie around in his pyjamas. It is up to the people of the story, then, to try and sort out the alien threat coming toward them. Even Rose is, for the most part, a little bit useless. Which is fair, I think, considering that she has just seen the man she loves most turn into someone else. That’s enough to shock anyone into inaction. But when she does try, she does so with such . Even though she has found her feet around the universe with the Doctor, once he leaves her, she reverts back to a scared young woman, trying her best to stop her home planet from being invaded by these terrifying creatures using cheap parlour tricks to play with their food before they eat it. Rose knows some of the words and ideas that the Doctor uses, but she doesn’t know how to put them together properly. And so she is laughed at. Not, I think, great for one’s morale, particularly in the face of a giant room of scary aliens, with the weight of the world on one’s shoulders. But when the Doctor finally wakes up, everything is fine. Kudos to David Tennant for being able to turn on a coin and provide us with these two personas, and so effortlessly be the Doctor in an instant.

And there’s an interesting message to take away here, too, I think. The solution put forward by the government – the face of humanity (as a group) in this story – is one that involves death and destruction; it’s a very xenophobic reaction, I think. Though, granted, somewhat understandable. So is this what we become when the Doctor isn’t there to make us better? Killing machines bent on defending our own space no matter the cost? Because the Doctor’s decision to drive these people out with a noble sword fight – and then to pointedly not kill the Sycorax leader – shows him to be a man far more dedicated to the diplomatic approach, towards the ‘no shedding of blood’ end of the spectrum. This juxtaposition of the two sides is made even more apparent when Harriet Jones still decided to shoot off the Torchwood weapon anyway, allowing the new Doctor to show his not so subtle side. And yet again, here, he chooses to use words, not violence, to achieve his aims.

What of the personality of this new Doctor, then? Clearly, he is a lot happier than the Ninth Doctor was, he is more prone to babbling nonsense, and yet, underneath all of this, there is a definite anger. No second chances – that’s the sort of man he is. He is quick to jump on his high horse and tell people when he thinks they are wrong, particularly if he has already warned them once. Self righteous – there’s a good word for you.

There’s also a definite shift away from the Ninth Doctor’s tendency to distance himself from the domestic life of his companions. At the end of The Christmas Invasion, the Tenth Doctor is happy to sit down at the Christmas table of the family of his friend, and partake in a meal. His banter with Jackie and Mickey also seems to be taking a turn for the better. Perhaps the Doctor, having shed the skin of his battered Ninth incarnation, is finally ready to let people into his life again, and just be happy.

To new beginnings, then. The beauty of Doctor Who is that casting possibilities are endless – indeed, they are vital to the lifeblood of the show. Companions come and go, the Doctor changes, though everything is the same. I think Steven Moffat said it best when he said that he doesn’t write for a specific Doctor – he just writes for THE Doctor. And The Christmas Invasion sends us off on the next part of this extraordinary man’s life.

This story opens with some lovely satire, as we have come to expect from Davies’s work, right from Aliens of London/World War Three. Our three main characters have been split up from each other (as Doctor Who writers love doing – rightly so), and each has found themself in some kind of bizarre parody of a 21st century reality television show. Ironically enough, they all suit – Jack is on What Not to Wear, Rose is on The Weakest Link, while the Doctor is on Big Brother. And yet it seems to only be the Doctor who is taking this seriously in the beginning, which seems weird. Were I teleported away from my life, I’d be pretty desperate to understand what had happened. Of course, once people start getting zapped with a ray gun, they begin to realise the situation they are in.

Of course, the use of 21st century reality television is not the point of this story – it is simply a shorthand for us, the audience, to understand what is going on. And what is going on is pretty terrifying. The people on these games are being filmed for entertainment, and yet no one seems to care. For all intents and purposes, these people are being killed on television, and no one in the general population seem to care. Davies’ view of humanity is not a positive one, and here we see why – he has created a world where no one seems to want to do anything to stop the mindless killing that is taking place for the sake of entertainment, instead content to sit around and watch these shows like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.

And it’s not really the Doctor’s fault, though he does have something to do with it. While Boom Town explored the consequences of the Doctor’s actions on himself and his morality, this explores what happens when he doesn’t set humanity on what he believes to be the right path. Turns out that when he booted the slug creature out of Satellite Five, the void created by the lack of media information was filled with these mindless reality television shows. Sound familiar? And everyone is happy to just sit here and watch them. Remember that this was written in 2004 (shown in 2005), at a time when reality television was arguably at its most popular. This use of reality television is Davies’ attack on that genre, but more importantly, it is an attack on all those people content to sit here and watch terrible entertainment, simply because it is in front of them. And not just terrible entertainment – entertainment that is killing people, or at least seems to be. Perhaps, then, we need the Doctor to remind us what life is all about, otherwise we end up fat and watching television.

And yes, I am aware of the irony of that last statement.

Once the Daleks turn up, though, the focus of the story shifts. Here we have a fully fledged Dalek army, that’s just a little bit unhinged. More unhinged, even, than the usual pepper pots. Because they have discovered this truly excellent thing called religion. Or faith. Or whatever you want to call it. Much of Davies’ previous work – particularly The Second Coming – has dealt with issues of faith and blind obedience. Here, he explores what it is to follow a madman (in a big jar), and what happens when someone who disagrees with said madman tries to go up against the army of followers he has amassed. The idea of giving Daleks some kind of religion is interesting in itself, and offsets the possibility of them simply becoming boring killing machines – though they do kill an awful lot here.

Just as the monsters turn up, of course, the Doctor must face his own moral dilemma, crucial to any understanding of what is going on here. He has something that can kill the Dalek fleet – a delta wave (hello, Mr McGuffin). But, he has not the time to refine it, meaning that the humans on Earth will also be wiped out. Can he do it? For a long time, it looks as though he can. But, of course, at the end, at the vital moment, he pulls out. Always the coward. And I think that’s important. It’s important to remember that the Doctor is a hero who doesn’t use violence, who doesn’t carry a weapon, who always looks for the peaceful way out. And for the Ninth Doctor in particular, I think that’s an important realisation to have. Because this incarnation of the Doctor has been racked with guilt – we see the burden he is carrying from the Time War, and this has particular resonance with his encounters with Daleks. And here, at the end of his life, he once again accepts who he is – he knows he cannot kill all these people just to kill the Daleks. There has to be another way out.

Which dovetails nicely into the third stand of this story. Rose Tyler. At the beginning of Series 1, Rose Tyler’s mother asked the Doctor one thing – to make sure her daughter stayed safe. The Doctor couldn’t promise her anything of the kind, and yet here, he finally makes good. The Doctor has come to care so much for this stupid ape, he is willing to move her out of the way of a giant explosion (along with his only way of escape), in order to keep her safe.

But of course, Rose Tyler cannot see this brilliant sct of self-sacrifice for what it is. She wants to go back. She, too, has developed feelings for the Doctor. She knows that the universe is terrifying, dangerous and scary. But the Doctor has taught her how to be a better person, a person who doesn’t just sit in a cafe all day and eat chips. And this, then, is the greatest gift of the Doctor. And indeed Rose. Both of these characters need each other, they feed off what the other has to offer, and all of this is on show in this story. In some ways, both of them make the ultimate sacrifice for the other – Rose is willing to let go of her mother and (ex-)boyfriend, both of whom are so vital to her life, in order to be with the Doctor again. And the Doctor, realising this, saves her from certain death, and sacrifices his own life. There is love here, but that’s not anything to be afraid of. It’s ok for the Doctor to love. In fact, it could be argued that it is all he can do – he loves each and every companion he has ever had, he loves life, he loves the universe. And it is out of these loves that his desire to travel, and to make the universe a better place, comes.

Special mentions must go to Christopher Eccleston, who gives his best performance as the Doctor in his swansong (and possibly the best farewell speech I have ever heard), and Billie Piper, who shows something of all of us in her performance. Unfortunately, Jack is fairly unceremoniously dumped out of the TARDIS, but we all know he’ll be back. In fact, he’ll be all over the place before we know it.

So the Doctor and Rose’s relationship has seen hardships, and the big questions have been asked, and in some ways been answered. One question remains, though. Has Rose asked for too much, though? For all his sacrifice, the Doctor has changed. And nothing will ever be the same again.

Oddly enough, this is perhaps the most experimental story in the entire first series. Instead of aliens, explosions and mysteries of time and space as the focus (though they are still present, don’t get me wrong), Boom Town is an interesting meditation on the ethics and moralities of the Doctor’s lifestyle and actions. Because Davies is right – the Doctor does just pack up and leave as soon as he has sorted out the mess he sees, without any thought for the personal consequences for those involved.

Margaret Slitheen (played so excellently by Annette Badland) has a plan to leave Earth and catch up with her family. The only problem is that she has to blow up the planet to do so. And the Doctor stops her, but when she tells him that her family has been tried for a multitude of crimes (clearly the rest of Raxacoricofallapatorius is not as mafia-esque as the Slitheen family), there is some hesitation. It is interesting to see which characters are sure about her death sentence. Mickey is the most certain, and in many ways this makes sense. She tried to blow up his planet, and this is all he knows. Without the knowledge the other three have from travelling in the universe, he has a very black and white sense of what he thinks is right and wrong – and the alien that tried to blow his planet up is definitely in the wrong. Quite understandable, I think.

But what of the Doctor? That restaurant scene between him and Margaret is sublime, and perfectly pitched and acted. There is such chemistry between these two people, and they really feel like equals, which is the only way this episode could have worked. Finally, the Doctor has someone on his own level to talk shop. And as Margaret points out, they aren’t so different. Both of them are killers, and the fact that she let someone go is nothing new. How great is that, by the way? She thinks she has got her get out of gaol free card, and then he throws it back in her face. But he’s right, of course, and his message doesn’t just apply to killers. We all have bad habits – whether it be eating junk food, or drinking – but every now and then, we console ourselves with the fact that we stop ourselves from these little indulgences. And that is how we live with ourselves. We delude ourselves into thinking we can stop at any moment, and yet the Doctor shows that we cannot at all.

Also important is the question of the death penalty awaiting Margaret on her home world. Clearly, this woman deserves to be punished. Is the death penalty too harsh, though? The four good guys are happy to send her back to Raxacoricofallapatorius for punishment, but when they realise they are sending her to her death, none of them can look her in the eye. And I think that really says a lot. I’m against the death penalty, but I wonder about those people who are all for it, whether they could actually carry out the punishment. It’s an interesting conundrum. When push comes to shove, do our morals go out the window in order to protect ourselves?

Other than this heady talk of morality, Boom Town is the story where Mickey at last comes into his own. Up until now, he has been treated as comic relief, but here – oh, he’s so good. Finally, he confronts Rose and asks her what he means to her. Even though he has found someone else, it is clear that he still loves her, and cannot bear to think of her far away from him. Good on him for still loving her, then. Because it does make Rose look really selfish, a pronouncement I can totally agree with. She does seem to have little regard for Mickey’s feeling, and leads him on every time she comes home, only to dump him again and again when she leaves. This relationship, more than the Rose and Jackie dynamic, highlights how loved ones feel when their friends go travelling with the Doctor. What makes this situation worse is the fact that Rose keeps giving him hope, but pulls it away from him each and every time.

Right. The end. Davies receives a lot of criticism because of his apparent propensity toward deus ex machina endings, whatever they are. To be fair, I do know what they are, but that’s not the point. And in some ways, the ending of Boom Town is a bit of a cop-out. Instead of having to make the big decision, the TARDIS turns her into an egg and we don’t have to worry about it. To be fair, though, it does look like the Doctor had planned this all along, so perhaps this was his way of getting out of the death penalty thing. Because I don’t think even the Doctor, even the Ninth Doctor, could willingly or knowingly sentence someone to their death, no matter how ‘evil’ they were. So he gave her a second chance, a way for her to redeem herself and live a proper life.

Every time I watch this episode, I can’t help but feel a pang of regret that this TARDIS team (and I’m aware that phrase is very cheesy) did not continue for longer. In some ways, they are very self-absorbed (as evidenced from Mickey’s first meeting with Jack in the TARDIS), but they are clearly having so much fun together, it doesn’t matter at all. All three of them feel like they have a reason to be there (as opposed to many classic TARDIS teams of three or four people), and they are all unique enough to stand their ground in terms of characterisation and screen time – though, granted, Jack does spend most of his time in the TARDIS. At least he didn’t faint, or break his ankle. It makes for a fantastic dynamic that I really wish had been explored further. Alas, though, this was not meant to be.

I think Boom Town has a tendency to be forgotten by a lot of people – sandwiched between two highly regarded episodes. But that is a shame, because there’s quite a lot at work here. The core morality debate is something that has not often been explored in Doctor Who, and framing it with a lot of characterisation at the same time means it has a lot to offer.

It’s interesting that, while this is Jack’s first story, originally, he doesn’t seem to be the main focus of the story. It is not until much later on – in the second half of the second episode – that we fully realise his actions in these events. Despite this, it is clear that he is not supposed to be in this time line. Jack has been touted as the first non-straight companion, and while it is somewhat toned down here in comparison to what we might now expect, his flirting with everything he likes is clear. And yet, this does not define him as a character. This man is dashing, charming, and a criminal. Here, he is willing to blow up a small piece of history (granted, a piece doomed to explode anyway) to get some goods out of these other time travellers. In some ways, he breaks every rule in the companion book – he is hardly an identification figure for the audience – and yet, because he is so charming and so good looking, we don’t seem to care. And he is a genuinely nice guy. Despite his past mistakes (and present), he was only conning the Doctor and Rose with something he thought was completely safe. When he realises the mistake he has made, he is truly remorseful.

While Russell T Davies gets a lot of flack for making the rebooted Doctor Who a place of smut (read: gays and lesbians) from a lot of people, ‘true’ fans believe that Steven Moffat will fix all of this. If they watch this, they are in for a shock. Moffat uses this recurring metaphor of dancing to talk about the Doctor’s sexuality, in a beautiful way. The scene between Rose and the Doctor discussing whether or not he has danced before is almost note perfect – right down to the fact that the Doctor is eventually distracted by something else from Rose’s advances.It’s almost as though, deep inside this man, is the desire to dance and be normal, and yet again and again, he knows that he must save the world one more time. Because if he doesn’t, who will? Indeed, at the very end, there is this lovely scene with the three time travellers just dancing. And the metaphor is not really at work here – or maybe it is. Maybe dancing isn’t just sex (though it definitely is at least that) – maybe dancing is fun and happiness and togetherness and love and all those other mushy emotions that make us (even 900 year old Time Lords) tick. So the Doctor, Rose and Jack all indulge in a little dancing to relax and unwind.

It could be argued that it is in this story that the ‘Rose fancying the Doctor’ storyline really kicks off, as before this, I think she was still a little in awe of him. Here, though (and I think this is helped somewhat by the inclusion of Jack), she is beginning to see herself more as his equal, and so the subtle dynamic shifting begins. This set up works quite well – and to be fair, we have seen it earlier in The Long Game – with the Doctor and Rose teaching someone else. It’s just that Jack is a much better person than Adam Mitchell.

Outside all of this lovely character development, though, is a plot line that actually has some bearing on the story, too. I suppose. There is something truly terrifying about a young boy looking for his mother – it’s just like those lost children in Big W that have lost their parents, and are wandering around shouting ‘Mummy!’. The looks on their faces say it all – they haven’t started crying yet, but it’s clearly not far away, and once they do, you know it won’t be pretty. This boy is exactly the same – he hasn’t started crying yet, but once he does, we all know it won’t end well. On the reverse, though, it is almost more unnerving to have him calm throughout the entire episode. Why isn’t he crying? There is something clearly not human about him, and this is only accentuated by some excellent costume deign for the gasmask he wears, which hides any facial expressions he might have once had.

But what is behind all this terrifying nonsense? Technology! Of course! Moffat has tapped into what is probably humanity’s fear – the fear of technology taking us over, and changing us into something we don’t wish to become. And here, that technology, while alien, is at work on Earth, wreaking havoc, and possibly killing everything on the planet. Well, not killing – turning everyone into these gasmask creatures. Zombies! Again!

But here’s the kicker. The technology hasn’t gone wrong. Not really. It’s doing exactly what it was programmed to do – return everyone back to health. The only problem is that it has been given the wrong information, requiring some not very tricky reworking on the Doctor’s behalf. And that’s all this story is about – a simple machine malfunction that could be easily fixed. A machine that was so one minded about its goal, it didn’t stop to think about the fact that it might be doing something wrong.

I often have it in my mind that Steven Moffat’s plots are always better than his characters – for better or for worse. Certainly, The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances is very well plotted, and hits all the right spots at the right times. But if you look past the cheap thrills of knock-off horror concepts, there is a brief, but central, core to this story about the relationship between the Doctor, Rose and Jack. It’s not very long, or even signposted throughout the story, but it makes for a memorable moment in an already memorable tale.

It’s interesting to think that the relationship that matters most coming into this episode is that of mother and daughter. The small flashback to a young Rose being told by her mother about her father – Pete Tyler – is short, but it’s all we need. From before the opening credits, we know that Rose loves her father – or rather, the memory of her father. And so her desire to finally meet him makes perfect sense – if you had a super-duper time machine, who wouldn’t go and try to meet their dead parent? So her wish is granted. But of course, Rose can’t help herself. On their first go, she can’t do anything, too overwhelmed by watching her dead father die again. Yet the second time, she does what she shouldn’t do – she saves Pete.

Rose here is nothing more than a selfish teenager. Despite warnings from the Doctor, she does what she wants. And when he has a go at her for being so stupid, she leaves him, even though, really, neither of them want this. Her desire to see her father alive and well is perfectly understandable, but she hasn’t thought of the wider implications. And why should she? It is the Doctor who carries the burden of responsibility, and he tells her as much.

I love the dynamic between Pete and Rose. She is clearly in awe of this man, and yet he has absolutely no idea why, or who she even is. Presented as an everyman, Pete Tyler is a bit of an idiot, but loveable, and a nice guy. The tension between Jackie and Pete, to begin with, doesn’t make sense – why would Jackie talk about this man she seems to only tolerate, in such a positive way to her daughter? And so Rose sides with her dad, the man she believes to be almost superhuman in his ways. And I think, to begin with, even though Pete is doing nothing to live up to these superhuman aspirations, Rose is blind to his faults.

And yet, this is all perfectly understandable – clearly, she has daddy issues. She has made Pete out to be something he never was, though this has a lot to do with Jackie. But one cannot blame Jackie – the idea of protecting your young daughter from the actual memory of her father (not that Pete Tyler is a bad man) makes perfect sense.

Is the Doctor really angry that he is no longer the only man in Rose’s life? Or is it because he thought she was better than the others? Not just another ‘stupid ape’? I think there are definitely elements of both here, and they do tie into each other. For the first time, we understand just how much both of these characters need each other – for Rose, this is just a smudge on her record, and for the Doctor, this is perhaps the first time he realises just how much he cares for Rose. In some ways, having Rose correctly guess that he would come running back to her weakens him somewhat as a character, but once he realises she is in danger, it makes perfect sense that he would want to try and save her.

By saving her dead father, Rose has created a something of a time paradox – a man who should be dead is still alive, and terrible creatures are here to feed off the time paradox energy. Ahh, Doctor Who mumbo jumbo – how can you not love it? The paradox serves two – no wait, three – purposes here – the first is to ensure that the important characters all end up in the same place so they can sit down and have a good chat about what’s going on. Two, it allows some sense of danger and desperation to the tone of the episode – particularly when the Doctor’s magic plan to save everyone goes horribly wrong, and he’s eaten by an oversized bat. This is another important event.

But the most important part of these creatures – Reapers, in the credits – is to highlight what goes wrong when you try and change history. Because there are two stories at work here. The first is Rose’s realisation that her father is not what she thought he was. And that’s tragic enough in itself. But more important is the realisation that you can’t change history, no matter what. There are always terrible consequences, and unwanted side effects, if you try and mould time to what you want.

What drags these two themes together is Pete Tyler’s self-sacrifice. Even though he is an everyman, a man who, in some ways, knows he isn’t special, knows he isn’t going to do anything amazing with his life, he understands that he should be dead. It’s lovely to realise that this man is so self-aware, that Rose’s description of him as the perfect father is the thing that tips him off. All too often, people are unaware of their own faults, but Pete’s realisation makes him special. So even though he won’t change the world, he is important. Even though he’s in our view for less than 42 minutes, we don’t want him to die. And kudos to Cornell for making this work so well.

Questions of time paradox are important, but not as important as the emotional punch this episode packs. I often thought this episode was a bit overrated, but on this watching, I understand fully why it’s so brilliant. And it’s not just brilliant television, it does have something to say – Father’s Day talks to us of the love between friends, between aliens, and between fathers and daughters.

The Doctor, Rose and Adam arrive at Satellite Five in the year 200,000. But something isn’t right, and the Doctor wants ot know why. Meanwhile, Adam has decided that travelling in time and space is more useful than he could possibly have imagined.

It’s interesting to see some of the themes Robert Shearman explored in Dalek coming back here in The Long Game. In Dalek, we had Henry Van Statten more worried about making a profit from the alien artifacts he found than actually finding out anything about them. And while we thought that Adam wanted to travel with the Doctor and see the world because of his natural curiosity. It turns out, however, that he, too, wants to exploit the universe for his own good. He is the negative example for what a companion for the Doctor should be. While Rose again and again is shown to be the ‘good’ one (because she is asking all the right questions), Adam is eventually discovered for what he is doing, and is harshly punished for what he has done. Though, the final scene is pretty funny. Clicking one’s fingers has never been so hilarious.

Adam’s failure to become a proper travelling companion with the Doctor is not the only story that Davies is telling us here, though. His failure is backgrounded with an interesting take on the modern journalistic ethic, and the questioning of curiosity from the human race as a whole. In fact, I would almost go so far to say as ‘curiosity’ is  the concept that Davies is exploring most here.

While Satellite Five is touted as the frontier of journalism for the whole Human Empire, the Doctor quickly realises there is something amiss. The subtle digs at contemporary immigration policies is a nice touch, and its interesting to see the satire of the state of the all-powerful media at work. Satellite Five is supposed to be a bastion of free and bipartisan journalism, and yet something is holding them back. And in some ways, this is perhaps the central message of the episode – that these humans are wrong because they are not curious. They have become stagnated and cemented into their ways, not wanting, or needing, to find out anything else. They just take the word from Floor 500 as the gospel, and hope for the best. Davies is telling that this is not how it should be – Cathica becomes our hero because she is able to finally realise that she has to do something drastic to stop the cycle.

The last scene between the Doctor and Cathica is also interesting – all too often, there are a lot of questions surrounding the actions of the Doctor, and what might happen after he swoops in to save the day. And this is brought to the fore here, with Cathica asking why he cannot stay. And the Doctor just believes that his way is best. Somewhat strangely for Doctor Who, this issue is explored further down the track – but I’ll leave that for now.

Having said all this, however, there is a downside to The Long Game. It has this sense of being something of a filler episode. I don’t know why – and it certainly plays a vital part in the whole fabric of Series 1 – but it’s just not that interesting. In part, I think this is because it feels a bit generic – the costuming particularly does not help to identify the society in which we find ourselves as particularly alien or interesting. Also annoying is the fact that we are confined to almost one set – I understand that this is probably, from a budgetary point of view, quite necessary (and to be fair to the set dressers, Floor 500 is quite nicely done), but it still irks me somewhat. Who knows – maybe I just like to complain. Also letting the team down somewhat is the villain. Simon Pegg plays the role of the Editor very, very well, but the big slug monster that is the Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe is a bit meh. Of course, the monster is out to make a profit. Of course, the Editor is there on behalf of the evil banks. It all just seems a bit sci-fi cliche to me. The Jagrafess is also annoying because there doesn’t seem to be very much motive on its behalf – it’s just sitting there taking up all the air con. And before anyone tells me otherwise, I know that the reason for its being there is explained later, but unfortunately, this does nothing for the episode here.

As I said above, this really does feel like a bit of fluff to fill in time. Which is a shame, because there are some interesting concepts at work here – Adam’s role as a bad companion is something that hasn’t been done before, so it’s a nice change. The other stuff is also interesting, but a bit more normal for Doctor Who. All in all, a bit meh.

In 2012, Henry Van Statten is, arguably, the most powerful businessman of the time. Hell, he owns the internet. But his penchant for collecting all things alien is interrupted when the Doctor and Rose receive a distress call from his museum. This isn’t any ordinary call, though. It is coming from a Dalek.

Were I, personally, to collect things from outer space, it would be because I’d quite like to go there one day. To see what is out there, the beauty of the natural world – yet a natural world so unlike what we perceive to be natural. This is also why the Doctor acts as an ersatz tour guide for his companions – to show off the wonders of time and space.

But for Van Statten, it really isn’t about the wonders of space and time. His collection is just another status symbol for him – a way for him to exert his own power over things he doesn’t understand. Ironically enough, Van Statten does spend a lot of time in Dalek trying to understand the Dalek – he wants to know what it is, why it does what it does, and how. The Doctor cannot understand why Van Statten would even bother with this collection if he doesn’t care about the stuff – and this clash of paradigms is interesting to watch. Obviously we are encouraged to side with the Doctor, and this makes a lot of sense. Here, Shearman is telling us that collecting the outside world is not enough – we must be engaged with what happens around us, and be curious about new things.

Christopher Eccleston is on fire in this episode. Seriously, that first scene with him and the lone Dalek is genuinely terrifying. Even though he is shit scared of this one Dalek, once he realises that the Dalek cannot do anything, he turns instantly. The power is all his, and he revels in the ability to taunt a Dalek that can’t kill. Because really, what does a Dalek do when it cannot kill?

Indeed, the Doctor is so unlike himself here, that he will torture a Dalek. Is this something we as viewers are comfortable with? Oddly enough, it seems that yes, we are fine with it. For the most part, we want the Doctor to be our pacifist hero, willing to shun violence in favour of diplomacy, but here, the Ninth Doctor, so burnt up with guilt from the Time War, he is more than willing to torture the last remaining Dalek. And we don’t mind. Which is an interesting dichotomy. Of course, in the script, the Doctor is punished for his actions. Rose asks him whether he is really the Dalek, when he points a giant gun at her. We know that the Doctor cannot be the one with the gun – it just isn’t right. And when he tries to be the one with the gun, he is brought back down by his companion – the traveller he needs to ensure his morality remains true.

In stark contrast to the reaction of the Doctor, we have Rose Tyler reacting in a very different way. Partially because she has no history with the Daleks, and partially because she is so very, very human, she instantly pities the Dalek, once she realises it is being tortured. And I suppose, without prior knowledge of the atrocities of the Daleks, this is a perfectly natural reaction. She doesn’t, like Van Statten, assume that the alien is evil, or needs to be catalogued. Rose just wants to help it – a reaction that is so very Rose.

The other big question Shearman asks of us is this: what happens to a Dalek when they are no longer a Dalek? While this is somewhat of a metaphorical question (in relation to this Dalek’s inability to kill), he is also asking us this question from a purely genetic point of view. What happens to a creature, bred to hate literally every other kind of life form other than its own kind, when it physically becomes something else? Clearly, the xenophobic nature of the Dalek eventually wins out against the humanity with which it has been imbibed from Rose. It cannot stand the fact that the ‘purity’ of its genetics have been compromised, and so the only thing left for it to do is to commit suicide. Similarly, the inability of the Dalek to change and adapt to the situation in which it finds itself is too much for it. It is clear that the existential crisis the Dalek is facing is all too much for it, and can’t change who it is

Joe Ahearne should also receive some credit for some nice direction – particularly of the Dalek itself. The use of close-ups, particularly on somewhat abstract images, like the bumps of the body, and the gun, make for some excellent visuals. really bringing home the alien-ness of the Dalek.

Dalek is certainly the most intelligent and adult episode of the new run so far. Despite this, though, it is also an excellent (re-)introduction to the entire concept of the Daleks. And for a race of aliens that are synonymous with Doctor Who, this thoughtful, yet interesting, episode introduces the Nazi pepper pots to a whole new audience in a whole new century.

Strangely enough, this two parter (the first of the New Series) has attracted quite a lot of hate from quite a lot of people. There are several reasons for this, and I thought I’d address them in this review, because I feel a lot of these criticisms are unfounded.

To begin with, though – how excellent is the idea of returning a companion back to her home, just to drop in, only to get your destination just that little bit wrong. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem, but here, Davies uses the TARDIS’ propensity for wrong landings to create an excellent situation. Because, of course, the question of what happens to the people who know companions is something not very often explored in the original run. And I think it’s done pretty well here – the bond between Rose and Jackie is really stong in this story, and really sets up a lot of stuff that happens later on, including Rose’s eventual departure.

There’s actually quite a lot of stuff set up in Aliens of London/World War Three that becomes quite important later on in the new run. In particular, everyone’s favourite British MP, Harriet Jones. Penelope Wilton does an excellent job of imbuing Jones with a great deal of humanity, and is remarkably calm under pressure. She’s an excellent character. And despite not being front and centre in the script, this story also sees the first time UNIT has been used in the new run, and for now, they are nothing more than the military presence. Torchwood also gets a somewhat indirect reference, with Tosh making a subtle appearance as a doctor.

And so, the villains. The Slitheen are an excellent creation. Intergalactic black marketeers, always on the lookout for a cheap deal, or something they can sell off to the highest bidder. Their plan to destroy the world makes sense because they don’t just want to destroy the world. They have a reason for the nuclear war they are trying so desperately to start – sell off the radioactive slag that will be left over. Actually, this is quite ingenious. The Slitheen are also nicely recognised not as a race, but as a family from the hilariously named Raxacoricofallapatorius. I love the stupidity of this name – for a story that is somewhat of a satire, this seems somehow appropriate. It’s a nice change to see a planet that is not easy to pronounce, or stupidly faux-sci-fi named, like Alpha Prime or the such. Similarly, enough of a unique culture is painted here – their love of hunting, for example, as well as their keen sense of smell. Oh, and their living calcium, which makes for some funny explosion scenes.

The Slitheen do have a slight problem, though. Their realisation on screen leaves something to be desired. The effects of their zip heads are actually very well done – the simple blue light is all that is needed – and the lumbering forms of men in rubber suits is also fine. There is, however, a slight problem between the rubber suit Slitheen and the CG Slitheen that take to running down corridors. They don’t really match up, and while their love of the hunt would perhaps indicate some kind of ability to participate in such an event, I prefer the lumbering ones. They look better.

And now to the criticisms. The big thing that a lot of people seem to have a problem with in this episode is the presence of bodily functions. In particular, farting. Yes, the Slitheen have problems keeping their huge frames in our tiny body bags, creating something of a gas problem.

But, to be fair, these farts are hardly the cornerstone of the story, and are really just there to ramp up some of the comedy. Because, really, this story is somewhat of a satire, which is (often) supposed to be funny, poking fun at its intended targets. Here, the targets are politicians. The joke that all of our politicians are actually aliens in disguise, running the world for their own nefarious plans – is intrinsically funny. This is helped by some less than subtle phrases, like “mass weapons of destruction”. And while Davies touches on themes such as this in later works (see Children of Earth for more details), the reactions of governments in first contact is something that is ripe for exploring. And the use of nuclear weapons against hostile aliens makes sense. If these weapons were accidently fired at something else, this could be problematic. Then, the political instability of nations with nuclear weapons at their disposal creates a war in which no one wins. Aliens of London/World War Three plays on the public’s fear of incompetent governments, of nuclear war (something we still fear in the twenty-first century), and people not being who they seem.

Other than this, Aliens of London/World War Three manages to again ground this science fiction in reality, and the use of Jackie and Mickey in this episode begin to show their good sides. While Mickey is still being used as comic relief, the scene at the end with him and the Doctor talking about why Mickey can’t come along really helps to define Mickey, and he’s actually a nice guy. Similarly, while Jackie Tyler may possibly be the most overprotective mother in the world, she does get to slap the Doctor and, really, who can blame her?

I’m not going to pretend this is classic Doctor Who. It’s not. But, it is nowhere near as bad as many people make out to be. There are some interesting themes at work here, and unfortunately, some people can’t get over the fart jokes. If you, as a discerning viewer, can ignore these, though, this is a solid political satire – something science fiction in general is very good at.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler are trying to get to Naples in 1860. They miss somewhat, and end up in Cardiff, 1869. On the plus side, though, it’s Christmas Eve, and Charles Dickens is in town. What is more worrying, though, is that the dead are walking.

Zombies are a trope as old as time, but in most cases, all they want to do is feed on our brains. God knows why, they just do. Giving them a reason, then, for wanting our bodies – and our dead bodies in particular – is a far more interesting way of writing them, and Mark Gatiss knows this. For in the middle of this historical romp around snow covered Victorian Cardiff, there is a legitimately interesting moral dilemma to ponder. The Gelth are, ostensibly, refugees from the Time War. Their home planet has been destroyed, and can now only exist as these kind of non-corporeal, gaseous creatures. All they want to do here is pick up the bodies of the dead, for a while, and once again feel the wonders of having corporeal being. The Doctor thinks this is a fantastic idea – whether this is because he feels guilty for what happened to the Gelth, or some other reason, we never find out. He likens it to recycling – and to be fair, he has a point. Once we’re done with the dead, all we do is bury them until they rot away. The Gelth want to actually do something with them, something constructive.

Of course, Rose Tyler disagrees with this. And quite rightly, too. The idea that this is wrong – without being able to provide any explanation – is, I think, a perfectly natural human reaction. For us, death is a big taboo, and so dealing with it like this, in a very confronting manner, is somewhat uncomfortable. And so Rose tells him how she feels. Which, to be fair, he doesn’t take very well. This dynamic – Rose questioning the Doctor – is explored later on in the series, but here, the naivety of Rose, as well as her (understandable) willingness simply to do what the Doctor says is interesting to note. Similarly, the Doctor’s brushing off of time paradoxes is nicely done, and should be enough for most people – “time is in flux blah, blah, blah”. Besides, if you think too much about time travel, your brain explodes.

Having said that, this central debate becomes somewhat academic about two thirds of the way through the episode, where it turns out that the Gelth are actually evil and want to take over the world. In some ways, this is disappointing, but to be fair to Mark Gatiss, I don’t know how much further this debate could have gone on anyway. It could have become very boring very quickly. What this new direction does do, though, is highlight the Doctor’s desire to find solutions to every problem, and the Gelth are only too happy to exploit this good nature of the Doctor. Perhaps they know him; perhaps they learn quickly – either way, their manipulation of both the Doctor and Gwyneth highlights their thoroughly villian-ness. They’re actually a pretty cool take on the whole zombie mythology. I like it. That, and they’re a bit ghosty.

Which brings us to the other main character of the story, or the “faux companion”, as I like to call it. Charles Dickens. The idea that Dickens should meet ghosts (or zombies) on Christmas Eve is pretty cheeky, but Gatiss gets away with it. Here, Dickens is an old man, a man tired of his family, of his job, and of the world. Then, all of a sudden, he meets this insane man who forces his mind open to the wonders of the universe. his refusal to see what is plainly right in front of him is believeable – as a man who has always looked for the rational answer to everything, the idea of ghosts and aliens simply doesn’t compute in his head. His attempts to make them fit are charming, and he truly is a sympathetic character.

The idea of travelling back in time to meet famous people makes a lot of sense. I like it when we go back in time for a reason on Doctor Who. Even if this is a happy coincidence, meeting up with famous people from history is an excellent hook. And what better person to start with than Charles Dickens – a writer who is popular with both the masses, and the literati. Oh, and because it’s funny if Dickens meets ghosts. Simon Callow has made a living out of playing Charles Dickens in one man theatre shows, and he brings to the role a wealth of experience and knowledge about the man himself. And he plays it perfectly – his small journey here from miserable old man to excitable old man makes his impending death just that bit sadder and more poignant.

My preference for The Unquiet Dead over The End of the World changes from week to week. The End of the World is a simple template for what we now term “new Who” while, after some reflection, The Unquiet Dead owes a great deal to the traditions of “classic Who”, but injected with the humour and emotive-ness of the revival. It is, in fact, the perfect combination of the two. There is a lot to love here, and it’s easy to forget that this early gem even exists. Go and seek it out if it’s been a while between viewing – you’ll quickly remember just how good it is.

After the success of Rose, a simple introductory story, the best thing Russell T Davies could have done was to immerse us, the audience, into the world of Doctor Who. And for the most part, this means crazy looking aliens, a murder, a crazed villain out for their own good, and a general sense of danger. The End of the World satisfies on all of these fronts.

Despite the glossy production values (and how beautiful is this episde? I mean, really really beautiful. The space station, the aliens, the shot of the Earth crumbling – oh! Amazing!), this is a pretty simple story that gets by on being somewhat of a pastiche of a murder mystery. Its all kind of feels like Agatha Christie in space – the Doctor and Rose are the outside detectives, the Steward is the butler (which is why he didn’t do it), and the aliens are the rich upper-class guests who all have something to hide. And actually, this theory stands up rather well throughout the whole thing. Even down to the red herring of the Adherece of the Repeated Meme, riffing off the idea that all evil aliens are dressed in black robes and have deep gravelly voices.

Speaking of aliens, the villain of this piece, Cassandra, is a nasty piece of work. She is a caricature of all that Davies sees wrong with our celebrity culture – she is shallow, bitchy, and more concerned with her own appearance and looks than anything else. What makes this all the more disturbing, though, is the undercurrent of unpleasant racism spouted ffrom the mouth of Cassandra. Her insistence that she is the last remaning ‘pure’ human is actually the more disturbing part of her motivations, and I would have loved to have seen Davies push this angle further. I understand that the remit of Doctor Who is not to go into the depths of modern problems, but even a little more here would have been a nice touch.

The only problem I have with Cassandra is the motive she gives for destroying Platform One. While I understand that money is a simple and normal motive for crime, I don’t buy that all she wants it for is more surgery. It seems a little flimsy, and I’d like to have seen something a little more meaty as her reason for wanting all this money. Maybe that’s just me, though.

Once again, Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper are in fine form. The Doctor is clearly pleased with himself, showing off all the wonders of the universe to his new friend, while Rose is clearly out of her depth, despite her brave face. Rose’s anger (or maybe just frustration) at herself is evident here – all of a sudden, she realises what she has done. She’s gone off with an alien about whom she knows nothing, and is surrounded by strange looking creatures, and a piece of skin claiming to be the last human. And so she fires up at the Doctor (quite rightly, I think), who simply wants to revel in the newness of everything, and demands he tell her some important facts. This is perfectly Rose – she is thoroughly impressed and in awe of this strange man, but is perhaps sometimes afraid to admit it, and so gets angry at him when he does something a little bit wrong. Even though he usually doesn’t know what’s gone wrong.

Splitting the two main characters up in Doctor Who is a trick as old as the programme itself, but here, Davies uses it to full effect. Usually, this split allows two sub-plots to cohabit peacefully, and to some extent, this is true here. The Doctor goes on a fact finding mission, while Rose takes a look around, allowing a little world building on the side. But what is best about this split is that it allows the two chraacters some time apart, to develop on their own. Rose is allowed to interact with a real, live alien – and gives her some room to breathe, and realise the full implications of what she is actually doing. Similarly, the beautiful interaction between the Doctor and Jabe is perfectly pitched, and we see, for the first time, some glimpse into the background of the Doctor – and we are on the road to understanding something of his character and motivations.

Apart from some nice character moments for the two leads, this is not the greatest Doctor Who story. It is not a particuarly complex or unique in what it is trying to do for the genre. But as I mentioned, the character bits work perfectly, and works as a nice companion piece to Rose.