Emotional maturity isn’t an area that most science-fiction or fantasy television shows are comfortable dealing with. It’s not really within their remit; people tune in to see heroes make things go boom, not have the essential nature of humanity explored. Allusion, metaphor, that sort of thing is okay, usually because it’s so transparent that they are using metaphor to talk about The Issue without addressing The Issue, that the audience doesn’t become uncomfortable. And, when actual, realistic, emotionally mature story-telling is attempted, it’s usually so clumsily done that it just becomes embarrassing to watch.
Richard Curtis attempts some of that mature storytelling here in this episode and the results are mixed. Tony Curran does an excellent job portraying Vincent van Gogh as an emotionally mercurial and unstable man who feels with such a depth and intensity that it is clearly driving him mad, despite his obvious and unappreciated genius. When Curtis trusts the acting in the scenes Curran has with Matt Smith or Karen Gillan, it’s thrilling stuff. It’s the proper, adult version of Doctor Who that so many fans say that they want. This isn’t terribly surprising, as emotional fare that hinges on audience investment is the primary keystone of Curtis’ career as a writer in film and television. He’s in his oeuvre here with this material, and it shows.
And it’s a pretty compelling story. The Doctor and Amy bringing peace, however brief it may be, to a troubled man is the sort of quiet, under-rated type of heroism that a show like Doctor Who should traffic in. It’s an original story, too, within the television science-fiction and fantasy genres.
But in order to get to that, we have to sit through a rather silly story about an invisible monster that only a madman can see, an unfortunate use of the “crazy people are more in touch with a magical, otherworldly realm” trope. I’ve got no problem with silly stories in Doctor Who. If I did, I wouldn’t watch Doctor Who, after all. But like other stories we’ve seen this year, that story, and the story about Amy and the Doctor trying to help a man in torment, never quite mesh together well, giving us a whole that’s a little bit less than the sum of its parts.
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I think I liked it a bit better than you did. It didn’t quite shake the “very special episode of Doctor Who” feeling that it had, but like you say it had quite a few effective moments. And the invisible monster, for me anyway, became more interesting if viewed as a metaphor for depression itself.
Aw, it would have been cute if you’d left it as “Doctor Who and Vincent and The Doctor.” There is that doctor in the painting after all.
And now I’ll leave you, while I conjure up my magnificent octopus: “Doctor Who and Vincent and The Doctor and Theo” which will blow the lid off 70s sexual mores.
Loathe as I am to dredge up yet another comparison of the Moffat Who vs. the Davies’ Who (after all, one must move on, eh?) it popped into my head during this episode that, as Doctor Who is primarily a children’s television show, Davies was making a show for the boy he used to be, while Moffat is making a show for his own children today… bit of supposition in there, but as the Doctor jumped about slashing the air with a stick, and ran pell-mell down an alley looking into a bicycle mirror to see what was chasing him, I felt like the creative in charge had a great sense of what would make kids scream or laugh while watching the show.
All of which is to say that I thought, given the deeper subject the story spoke to, it was nicely balanced with the other elements, and overall well done (though I agree with you, Dorian, I think the term “uneven” is a fair call).
I now give Smith/Jillian and the show tone overall very high marks for making a sweet, somewhat paternal dynamic between the Doctor and Amy quite believable.
I keep surprising myself as we encounter other characters in each episode by thinking, “Oh! Take them with you instead, I think they’d be loads of fun!” (Specifically Bill Nye’s uncredited Museum Van Gough wonk in this go-round) even though I I don’t dislike Amy. (Have to use the double negative there, as while I don’t dislike her I’m not sure if I really like her, if you follow.)
Things I did like:
Curran as Van Gough — splendid.
Amy’s tears — such a nice touch, and obviously a bit of foreshadowing about the fact that we’re far from done with her loss.
The Doctor saying “Amy, Rory…” in the heat of the moment.
Amy’s solid ability to solve problems (“Oi! I’ll buy a bottle of wine and share it with whomever I like!”)
The Doctor trying to reason with the “monster.”
Nice variance in the Season too — big stories and intimate ones as we go along.
It’s the only episode of Doctor Who to go out with an ‘if you’ve been effected by the issues in this programme…’ helpline number at the end.
Which was handy, as I was traumatised by them playing Athlete over that last scene.
I thought it interesting…every now and then you need an offbeat episode to balance the same-old, same-old. It treated Van Gogh with respect and sympathy, and the ending was very poignant.
But van Gogh wasn’t crazy, he could just see things that others can’t, a special power as it were. I don’t think they were saying that only he could see the monster because he’s nuts.
This series has been following different rules than the previous four, what is essentially poetic logic. (No less legitimate than technobabble in my book.) I wouldn’t say the invisible monsters are silly. They’re a representation of Vincent’s demons, a manifestation of his depression/bipolarity.
Looking at it as PLOT, sure, it’s silly. Looking at is as THEME, it works. For me anyway.
The monster was awkwardly grafted on, but you have to appreciate that they let it stand as a metaphor, and as obvious as it was, at least they didn’t spell out “THE MONSTER IS DEPRESSION SEE?!?” the way Davies would have.
Actually, this episode is a great stand-in for the season as a whole: it’s a little over-maudlin in the style of modern SF (Dorian, would you say the current trend towards angst and soap opera in genre TV is a step *towards* the emotionally mature storytelling you mention, or away from it?) and the SF plot doesn’t mesh smoothly with the “real” story, but the drama is FAR more well-developed and mature than it’s been to date, and it really is genuinely emotional at points. If you’re a creative person at all, worried that you’re doomed to remain unappreciated, or if you’ve dealt with depression in your life, this episode was absolutely bang-on, right down to the basically unhappy ending. (Of course, narratively speaking, they weren’t going to be able to change history, as it would have opened up too many questions. But the end result of their encounter with Vincent–I’m trying to avoid spoilers here–nevertheless didn’t feel contrived at all.)
I don’t think Vincent was necessarily even all that mad, at least not internally. I think he was just naturally much more sensitive and receptive to the universe and that caused him to swing between manic and depressive moments. The ending, though, with the field trip? That’s everything I’ve ever wanted to do with a time machine and it made me feel really, really happy to see the Doctor performing little feats to make someone’s life better. Between Bill Nighhy’s thoughts on van Gogh and the Doctor’s speech about the good things and bad things that make up a life this was a really emotional episode that made me feel, if not wholly good or sad, entirely right.
I was initially of two minds about the episode, but the more I’ve thought about it the better I think it is. It may have been overblown and maudlin in patches, but it was essentially an episode devoted to the Doctor delivering a great kindness, and there’s something very cool about that.
One quibble: whenever the Doctor meets anyone from our past, it’s never just that they’re *very good* at what they do, but that they’ree THE BEST EVER OF ALL TIME. Maybe you could get away with that for Shakespeare, once, but really, what’s wrong with just saying “Van Gogh is one of the greatest painters who ever lived,” instead of “Van Gogh is the greatest ever, fuck that Rembrandt douchebag, Picasso can eat a fat one, and just forget about that asshole Michaelangelo.” They did it with Dickens and they did it with Agatha Christie, too. Why can’t we ever meet a historical figure who was just OK? Or how about a writer or artist the Doctor doesn’t really know all that well? Like, how about an episode with F. Scott Fitzgerald where the Doctor admits he skimmed Gatsby and never got around to anything else? Or how about they meet Nietzsche and trhe Doctor HATES him and tries to get rid of him at every opportunity? That would shake things up a bit.
Didn’t the Doctor give Shakespeare some grief over some speech or other? I remember that first exchange descending from “Utterly Brilliant” to “What Were You Thinking” pretty sharpish.
Funny thing, I thought the bit at the end was a bit much – a bit too Curtis, frankly (his films, as I’ve probably said, have soured me on him, although this story went some way towards fixing that). I would like to see Curran have another go at the role, someday (c.f. Simon Callow), in perhaps less fantastic circumstances.
This is not a well I’m keen to see tapped again anytime soon, though. I mean, unless they want to go back and fight Yeti with Mitochondrial Eve, or something.
//\Oo/\\
Dickens: Bugged me because I don’t agree that he’s THAT great.
Shakespeare: Bugged me because it was too cheeky with the characterization, but I do agree that is WAS a genius.
Agatha Christie: Ok, now it’s ridiculous. Still read in the year 1 billion? Let’s get some perspective in here.
Van Gogh: Plays, because the Doctor never quite says he’s THE BEST EVER (Bill Nighy’s critic does), except that VVG seems to be Amy’s favorite painter, so the Doctor’s at least humoring her.
I had finished watching my DVDs of The Middleman earlier in the day, and there are several episodes in that series where someone can see/hear monsters or ghosts or aliens or whatever that no one else can because they had some sort of issue with their pineal glands. So I decided that’s why Vincent could see the space chicken. Made as much sense as anything else.
On the whole, though, I loved this one. And Amy sitting with the sunflowers might be my favorite scene of hers from the whole season. Actually, Amy got lots of great bits in this episode, but the sunflower part was my favorite.
The thing that annoyed me the most about the Shakespeare episode was the fact that they had the unmitigated gall to put J. K. Rowling’s words in Shakespeare’s mouth and act like it was natural, rather than an abomination before God and Man.
Apparently Matt Smith was on (sort of) as The Doctor with the last act in Glastonbury, playing the Who theme with dance/electronic duo Orbital.
Some may scoff, but I thought he looked great and the clip is total fun.
http://www.toplessrobot.com/2010/06/the_doctor_plays_his_own_theme_song.php
The thing that annoyed me the most about the Shakespeare episode was the fact that they had the unmitigated gall to put J. K. Rowling’s words in Shakespeare’s mouth and act like it was natural, rather than an abomination before God and Man.
THIS.
Prankster–What little I’ve seen of American genre TV’s attempts at emotional maturity, I’d say that they THINK they’re moving towards it, but are largely just doing the same sort of “very special” episodes that were roundly mocked as Emmy-bait or propaganda during the 80s, just with the edges filed off to be slightly more palatable.
I think the implication was that Van Gough had Synesthesia and that was why he could see the monster.