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IT'S a little remembered fact that Doctor Who's first ever Christmas episode
was set in the Liverpool. 'The Feast of Steven', sadly now lost from the
archives, but for its soundtrack, was a jolly festive farce set in a local
police station (which was almost going to be staffed by the cast of Z-Cars) with the companions trying out their Scouse impressions, and which ended
(after a brief detour in Hollywood) with 1960s Doctor William Hartnell,
crystal wine glass in hand, breaking the fourth wall and wishing all of us at
home a merry Christmas.
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Pre-broadcast, Knotty Ash-born actor David Morrissey was tight-lipped as to who this new spirit could be, which, along with the actual title, only increased the expectation that this Christmas we'd somehow, through some timey-wimey bit of magic, be watching the first adventure of the next actor to take on the role
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It's perhaps entirely fitting then that just weeks after the show celebrated its
forty-fifth anniversary, a Liverpudlian actor should be one of the leads
in this year's extravaganza and intriguingly playing the titular character 'The Next Doctor'.
Pre-broadcast, Knotty Ash-born actor David Morrissey was tight-lipped as to who this new spirit could be, which, along with the actual title, only increased the expectation that this Christmas we'd somehow, through some timey-wimey bit of magic, be watching the first adventure of the next actor to take on the role of the 11th Doctor, once current incumbent David Tennant regenerates off at the end of next year.
It was fairly obvious, within the first ten minutes, that this wasn't going to be
the case. In contrast to Tennant's modern geek, Morrissey's character seemed based
on the public perception and, it has to be said, the reality of what the original
character was like: an Edwardian gent, all frock and waist coats, cravats
and casual sexism, his speech patterns more akin to a human of the period,
than the alien jibber-jabber that is the hallmark of the Tenth Doctor. Not
the kind of figure the BBC would risk in the lead of one of their highest rated TV
shows.
Which isn't to say it he didn't work brilliantly within this context as a
mystery for proper Doctor and us to solve. Only an actor of Morrissey's
quality could possibly carry what turned gradually into an emotionally
complex role, as someone (Jackson Lake) who had deluded themselves to escape great personal tragedy. After three years of killer Santas and sky-yomping spaceships in a
contemporary context, it was a real treat to return to period London and an
initially more intimate story. In the first half, the Cybermen
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were a bit of a distraction from the clever exchanges between former Blackpool co-stars Tennant and Morrissey, as the former pondered who this impostor might be.
Once this central mystery was exploded, though, the plot opened out and
became a touch less interesting, as the Cybermen accompanied by the deadly
Cybershades stomped around in the night with their usual mission to convert
anything with opposable thumbs and pulse. These aren't my favourite
reimagining of the classic monsters; in the old show, at least in the 1980s,
they were far more manic and witty, at their best when clenching their
ski-gloved fists and declaring "Excellent!" when it looked like were getting
their own way (and usually played by early Brookside actor David Banks).
All the noughties Cybermen seem to do is march around electricuting people
shouting with their new, kid-friendly, sub-Dalek catchphrase "Delete".
On each appearance they've needed a human face to make them interesting and
explain their plan, and 'The Next Doctor' offered a reptilian Dervla Kerwin,
resplendent in her scarlet dress against the snow white backdrop. She's
what made the graveyard scene so thrilling, willingly watching her fellow
man die. Strong stuff for the post turkey torpor and writer Russell T
Davies also infused the episode with a range of Dickensian motifs, with
ladies of the night, street urchins and this workhouse madam straight out
of Nicholas Nickleby, who, like the Cybermen, had divested herself of much
of her humanity even before she was inevitably converted. Odd that she
should be called the Cyber-“King” not Queen, though – it eems out of character
for the Cybes to be championing gender neutrality.
Then, probably sensing that kids might be fidgeting at all of this social
commentary, Davies chucked in what might well be the most bonkers conclusion
to a Christmas special yet. Not even last year's image, of a lookalike of
the Queen scurrying from Buck House as a space replica of the Titanic
skitted overhead, prepared me for the sight of the 1,000-foot tall, manga-friendly steampunk Cyberman stomping across London like mechanised cousin of
Mr Staypuffed in Ghostbusters. I think I giggled from the first push in,
through to its zapping into another dimension, as it perfectly demonstrated
what I love about Doctor Who, its ability to encompass the
subtle and spectacular and usually in the same story.
About my only criticism of the climax was that despite some initial bravado
defending the Doctor and his own 'companion' Rosita (who was played with
mouthy gusto by Velile Tshabalala), Morrissey became something of a
bystander.
The perfect resolution would have been for him to ride his hot
air TARDIS with Tennant towards the mouth of the beast, returning to the
double act established earlier in the episode. Instead he was left cradling
his child and gathering the population of the capital together to hail the
conquering hero.
But perhaps in keeping him away from the main action,
Davies was simply re-emphasising the words he'd put in Morrissey's mouth
during the teaser: That even when Tennant leaves, we'll still have the
Doctor to look up to, "the one, the only and the best".
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