That’s it people. Vous aurez été prévenus que mon blog allait devenir Hell on web. L’espace d’un épisode, la Whosphere a explosé.
Et tout ça, c’est la faute d’un homme…
All Doctor Who, people. 50 ans, ça se fête. Et en grandes pompes.
The Moment called for David Tennant to come back.
Et oh purée. Je l’aime.
(Warning: cette review se fera dans la langue de Shakespeare. Sod it.)
So. The day of the Doctor celebrates fifty years of the longest running sci-fi show in history. It needed to go with a bang. And with a bang it went.
First up, we meet the Valeyard, that in-between incarnation of the Doctor that ended the Time-War by comitting genocide. We meet the man on the D day, on Gallifrey, as he steals one item that will help him stop the war…and kill his entire race with it.
John Hurt really is a beast.
He had to incarnate a Doctor in less than seconds, to make him his and not look like Paul McGann‘s or Chris Eccleston‘s (the incarnations that preceedes and follows). And he did one fantastic job at it.
Well…Moffat knew what he did when he hired the most amazing British actor in all History (and I’m not even sorry, and Kilgharrah is neither).
The Valeyard (never mentioned by that name BTW) exiles himself in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere (pun totally assumed) and discovers the item he stole: the Moment, able to blow up an entire planet in a matter of seconds.
The Moment, he ignores it by then, has a conscience. And the conscience takes on the form of one companion. The one companion that swallowed the TARDIS’ matrix once, becoming more, becoming…the Big Bad Wolf.
The Moment takes on the traits of Rose Tyler.
But the Valeyard doesn’t know her yet.
Still, the two converse, her telling him that the price for his genocide will be to live on with it, when a rip in time forms above their heads.
Somewhere in Britain, Clara Oswald receives a message from her own Doctor and rushed to meet him, when they are hauled, and the TARDIS with them, by UNIT, transporting the vessel to Trafalgar Square, and the National Gallery.
Holy mother of shit.
The English are one of a kind. Shooting a scene of DW, the most beloved show in the country, in the middle of London, life going on around the stage, is a unique type of thing. Silly Brits…
Anyway. Inside the Gallery, the Doc and Clara discover a painting called Gallifrey Falls, taken on during the years by Elizabeth the Ist, who, admittedly, the Doc has once courted…
Well, Doctor…courted…it could only mean something. Or someone.
And on cue.
David Tennant appears on his big white horse (bastard), all brown suit and shiny Sneakers on.
And Elizabeth the Ist being enamoured with him, kissing him after…what?…a minute on-screen?
Yup, David is definitely back. 😉
Anyway… While Ten is flirting with a Queen, a rip in time forms both in 1561 and in 2013, and Eleven, and his fez, jump up in time to meet his counterpart.
A counterpart that doesn’t seem all-too-happy to see what face he’ll end up with. How I undertand him.
May I just say how horribly wonderful it was that after two seconds together on screen I was already hooked to that meeting of two Doctors?
No, but, please, admit it, people, Ten and Eleven together are just…fucking amazing. I can’t find the words actually…
It might just have blown my mind away.
So, mixing bad aliens to the shit, we’ve got an episode where everything’s twisted. The main plot is those aliens invading National Gallery and the three Doctors needing to solve the problem, and the Valeyard still struggling with « Am I doing it or not? »
The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead freezing Gallifrey into a painting forever.
With some help.
Of twelve mad men in boxes.
How I yelled like a two-year-old when I saw Dumbo on screen. For a second, but still.
Holy shit on heels.
So, people, I may or may not have died during that episode, but I sure as hell know some things for sure.
One: if it were possible, I’d see Ten and Eleven together forever. On and on. They make fireworks and I loved it!
Two: John Hurt is an incredible actor and wonderful person (it shows) and I adore him.
Three: I am definitely in love with Ten, that love hasn’t faltered with the years, and I’ve just understood how much it hurts to be. Bastard. Hot deliriously clever idiotic bastard.
I really need to find myself a real man, don’t I?
Four: I love Billie Piper in Bad Wolf mode.
Five: even if the mini-episode lasted six minutes top, I have fallen in love with Paul McGann‘s Eight thanks to « Night of the Doctor » (watch it online, bloody brilliant). That’s how it works in my head.
And one last thing I know for sure: I don’t know what Steven Moffat is smoking, but it’s a damn good leaf, between this and what we get in Sherlock.
See you on Christmas, Whovians! 😀