Doctor Who: Overall Series 8 Musings

I feel like every season of Who under Moffat has gotten progressively Moffatier, with the latest practically an Ouroboros eating its own tail.  It pains me, because Moffat writes some good stuff, but I think he needs someone to reign him in or it just gets to be too much Moffat; his better writing qualities start to feel recycled, and his less attractive ones start to overwhelm the work.  That’s been this season in a nutshell for me, but I think there’s also a fair amount of good parts that could be salvaged with a more careful hand.

I’ve already written about my issues with the Doctor and Clara’s strained relationship, how the part-time companion thing doesn’t work for me, and the weird obsession with the Doctor criticizing Clara’s looks, so I won’t get into all that again.  Unfortunately, I don’t know if this dynamic can be fixed.  I hate to say it, because Jenna Coleman’s a fine actress if given half a chance, but I’m ready for a companion change.  The relationship that’s been established here doesn’t seem good for either party, and it’s not fun for me to watch.  Maybe if they added a second companion to shake up the current situation?  That might be able to temper the dysfunction.

Another of the season’s problems is the general inattention to detail.  This is a beloved, long-running sci-fi show:  that means a number of its fans spend colossal amounts of time thinking about and discussing the episodes, and it’s rough when they don’t stand up to the barest whisper of scrutiny.  There’s been far too much nonsensical science-magic (“Kill the Moon,” “In the Forest of the Night,” and “Death in Heaven” being the worst offenders,) the feel-good endings seem too unearned and deus-ex-machina-ish (ditto the above,) and important things just get dropped (“Listen” really goes off the rails, and how exactly did Clara and Danny go from a disastrous first date to true love in three episodes?)  It’s sloppy, too focused on Twists! And Big!  Ideas! with no patience for fleshing them out or dealing with them in a meaningful way.

Most egregiously, this season completely squanders the Doctor.  When you ask yourself on three separate weeks if this is the “Doctor-lite” episode, you’re not getting enough Doctor.  Seriously.  “The Caretaker” barely bothers to play on the wonderful potential of the Doctor working at Coal Hill and he twice disappears for a long stretch in “Kill the Moon” (the first time is especially annoying – it’d be like if we never saw what Ten gets up to after taking the plunge in “The Satan Pit” and stayed entirely with Rose until he comes back up.)  The actual Doctor-lite episode, “Flatline,” actually incorporates him better than the other two.  Not only does it have a lot of fun with the tiny TARDIS concept, but it also, gasp!, shows us a decent amount of the Doctor’s perspective and inner life. 

This is not okay, because the Doctor’s been my main saving grace of the season.  When the show deigns to let him be the Doctor (and remembers that “prickly and cantankerous” doesn’t have to mean “callous a-hole,”) I adore him and want him on my screen all the time.  At his best, he’s a stellar blend of One and Nine, along with a dose of Scrubs’s Dr. Cox and plenty that’s all his own.  Another win of the season is new writer Jamie Mathieson.  “Mummy on the Orient Express” and “Flatline” are hands-down my favorites of the season; they’re tight and entertaining, they have real emotion, and best of all, they get the Doctor and allow him to shine.  Yep, he’s a keeper.  Let’s see more episodes like his, Who – I want to love you so badly.