'The End of Time, part one'
Wr: Russell T. Davies
Dr: Euros Lyn
Synopsis: The Ood warn of a danger that spreads across the whole of the universe. On Christmas Eve, the Master is reborn.
Review: Okay. So it's the end of an era. The man responsible for the rejuvenation of what was once the most vilified science fiction show on British television, who has made it absolute must see TV, not only for the cultists among us but for the entire sodding nation, is bowing his cap, throwing down the gauntlet and joining the - metaphorical - choir invisible... and he's taking his finest star with him. Yes, this is Russell T. Davies and David Tennant's mutual swan song and, understandably, they're both rather excited about it. Tennant's been all over our screens for the past few weeks, giving 'revealing' press interviews, hosting Never Mind the Buzzcocks, appearing in Hamlet, flying around the BBC's Christmas trailers... it's actually something of a surprise when a minute passes by in which his unfathomable quiff ISN'T blocking your view. But of course, we don't really mind. Not when he's the best thing to have happened to Doctor Who since Jon Pertwee transformed into a Bohemian lunatic. Davies, meanwhile, has chosen to express his excitement in an altogether different fashion... yes, the man who is probably the second best thing to have happened to the show since that delightful moment at the end of 'Planet of the Spiders', has decided to wave an enthusiastic goodbye to all sense of perspective and bash his own brains in with the typewriter he traditionally uses to pen his scripts. And then sit down to write 'The End of Time, part one.'
You see, the trouble with Russell T. Davies, ladies and gentlemen, is that he just doesn't know when to stop. Hand the man a simple premise with stringent parameters - werewolf terrorises the residents of a house, for example - and he'll deliver the goods. Tell him that he was to write the finale to end all finales and that all restrictions are lifted, and a wealth of ideas, some promising, others execrably ludicrous, will flood his brain, flushing out any notion of what makes a good story. Faced with the prospect of upping the ante, he'll try to outdo himself ten times over and in the process, will start blindly throwing things at the page in the hopes that somehow, some way, they'll stick together and produce something watchable. Sometimes, miraculously, this process actually works; the fourth season finale, as big a clusterfuck as it was, ended up being the most fun Who has had since its initial regeneration. At others, however, it results in the most cringe worthy television this side of a Hollyoaks omnibus and unfortunately for us all, when faced with the biggest challenge that he's been given in his five years in the hot seat, it seems that RTD has dropped the ball one final time.
Let's face it guys, 'The End of Time, part one' is a mess. The plot, if you can even call it that, is treated with such wilful disdain that you find yourself uncertain of what exactly it is that you're watching. Stuff happens, then more stuff happens, and then a whole truckload of stuff happens, and then we're done. Logical narrative progression? Pah! Reasonable pacing? Sod that! Explanations? Who needs 'em? We've got an audience to impress and they want action, they want amateur dramatics, damn it, they want John Simm! Pile it all on before they get restless! Quick, mother's getting up, make something explode! Now! This clambering for the money shot, the constant preoccupation with oneupmanship, makes the episode feel hopelessly disjointed and frankly, at times, rather embarrassing. The Master's 'resurrection', a development that should be terrifyingly dramatic, falls depressingly flat because it's treated in such a throwaway manner. Davies speeds us through half an episode's worth of plot in two minutes with some ridiculous gumf about 'the hidden books of Saxon', spouted from the mouths of a bunch of woefully one-dimensional archetypes, and then obliterates every semblance of credibility that the character of Mrs. Saxon ever had by having her deliver the kind of deux et machina that would make a staff writer on Voyager cringe. Where did her 'followers' come from? How were they able to produce a potion that would 'obliterate' the Master, or rather, counter whatever the hell it is that the other barking mad individuals are doing? Hell, when did she have time to orchestrate any of this when she's been in jail for eons? Davies clearly doesn't think we should bother ourselves too much with this stuff; he'd probably tell us that it's Christmas, that we're all full of turkey and, more than probably, a little alcohol, and that we should just sit back, relax and "enjoy the ride." Let it all wash over us. Well frankly, screw that. There's only so much you're getting away with Mr. D, and treating us all like brain dead morons certainly isn't on the list.
Of course, Mrs. Saxon doesn't succeed. Oh no, she just blows herself up, along with several others, and proceeds to turn John Simm into the kind of relentlessly irritating comedy villain that made Who the butt of so many jokes in the old days. It's a nicely disturbing idea, I suppose, to have him restless and hungry, although exactly how he managed to survive the gargantuan explosion and why he turned this way is anyone's guess. Mind, the character inexplicably survived at least seven brushes with certain death in the 1980s, so what's one more for the record books, eh? Russell probably thinks it's "a good laugh" or something. Yeah, that'll be it. So anyway, Simm lives to fire electricity at the Doctor (don't ask) and have at least a couple of well written scenes with Tennant but inexplicably, he decides to put on his very best thespian garb and utterly ham everything up in the process. Oh sure, he was never particularly subtle in his former appearances, but at least he didn't attempt the dreaded 'villainous cackle' every thirty seconds. Here, it's practically the only line he has. Why is it so difficult for actors to understand that their audience will see straight through insincerity? An actor of Simm's calibre should realise that, in order to scare the viewer, to horrify them and keep them on the edge of their seat, they should play megalomania completely straight, without any hint of irony or hyperbole. The plainest villains are the most terrifying precisely because they're recognisable. Start gesticulating wildly and making bombastic exclamations and a distance is immediately established. It just doesn't work. And now, of course, we're faced with the prospect of an entire planet's worth of John Simms in part two, each scene filled with countless copies of his maniacal head, guffawing endlessly to one another. Great.
As if all of this wasn't frustrating enough, we're also forced to endure the pathetic Naismiths, a pair of completely plastic pseudo-villains whom Davies barely even bothers to introduce, let alone actually explain (and in light of this, you can't really blame the two actors for putting in utterly horrible, over-the-top performances), another pair of throwaway aliens (cacti this time) who could actually be slightly interesting if the plot bothered to stop and give them some attention, and a load of witless nonsense involving Wilf and a gang of elderly citizens, concocted solely to give June Whitfield the cameo that Davies probably thought she deserved. In amongst this depressing hotchpotch, David Tennant and Bernard Cribbins try to salvage some good and they do sometimes succeed. Predictably, the pair bring a naturalism and grace to everything they do and their scenes together are positively electric. The highlight of the episode, undoubtedly, is their quiet conversation in the cafe, in which the Tenth Doctor finally begins to face the reality of his impending 'death.' Tennant is outstanding here, flipping emotions in the blink of an eye, effortlessly conveying the alien nature of the character but simultaneously tugging at every one of our heartstrings. This is what we need to see more of, Davies. This is what you're good at. To be fair to him, it does seem like the second instalment will be a quieter affair, in part at least, but we could have done with seeing more reflection and pacing in this episode, rather than so much drama and apocalyptic bombast.
It is entirely possible, of course, that 'The End of Time, part two' may put some of the inconsistencies and loose ends of its predecessor to bed. There's still time for Davies to better explain the Master's resurrection, his wife's attempt to kill him, exactly how the Time Lords are back in business and so on and so forth. And to be honest, I don't doubt that, at the very least, the latter point will be afforded the attention it deserves (the miraculous healing machine, anyone?) However, that doesn't change the fact that far too much blindly occurs here that we, as an audience, are simply expected to chew up and swallow without question. If you have an explanation, Russell, give us it now instead of making it seem like you're just winging it all the way through. It also doesn't forgive this episode its horribly scatter shot plotting; often, the narrative feels like it's been cobbled together out of a series of discarded post-it note ideas, barely hanging together at all. And as for John Simm... please, please, please can someone take him back to Acting 101 and show him to portray a convincing villain? The prospect of seeing him laughing his way through every sodding scene of the next instalment is enough to make you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon. There's still time to salvage this one guys, to give Tennant the respectable send off he deserves. I'm crossing my fingers and toes for New Year's Day... and ignoring the naysaying voices in my head. 5.0
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