Doctor Who Recap (Series 6, Episode 4): The Doctor’s Wife

In spite of his amateurishness in the televised realm, Neil Gaiman still proves to be one of the best Doctor Who writers in the New Series.

I’ve been looking forward to The Doctor’s Wife. It’s an evocative title, isn’t it? More enticing than the name, though, is its author, genre guru and heartthrob Neil Gaiman. Whatever credibility his name lends, I must report that when I finally got around to watching the episode, the first observation I made is that Neil Gaiman doesn’t know how to write television. But, perhaps more importantly, he does know how to write Doctor Who. It’s a show without style or tight continuity, but big on meaningful content and giant ideas, which Gaiman delivers in quantities vaster in scope and conception than the preceding three episodes offered. And, you know, I prefer it this way. It’s exciting and wonderful, so who cares if it doesn’t always progress logically?

I’ll admit that I’m perhaps not as familiar with Neil Gaiman’s opus as I should be. I’ve read American Gods and Anansi Boys. I have a hardcover containing the two issues of Detective Comics he did a couple years ago stuffed away in my closet somewhere. Though my experience is limited, I think I have a firm grasp on the man’s style; and if this understanding did not develop organically, most of my friends wax rhaphsodic about his talents with a dedicated regularity. So I know what he’s good at, or at least what he’s supposed to be good at, and its all present here; the framing of the episode evokes horror, the heroes are equally inventive and emotive and, above all, there’s magic shining through the cracks, reminding us of how wonderful life can be, reflected rather explicitly in the dialogue.

Besides his stylistic flourishes, though, I think Gaiman’s most impressive achievement was his spot-on characterization of The Doctor. It’s become apparent to me that Eleven’s difficult to write; I described him before as your eccentric grandfather. I think that holds true. He is written too often as a high-energy goofball, a la David Tennant. I suppose that’s easier, and Matt Smith is talented enough to generally capture Eleven’s idiosyncrasies anyway, but I think that Neil Gaiman complimented Smith particularly well. He even gets The Doctor’s temperament exactly right. He has, to my memory, most effectively characterized Eleven of anyone, sans Steven Moffat. I was particularly impressed with the scenes where he interacted with the human TARDIS. What an idea, that.

Giving the TARDIS an opportunity to speak is brilliant, and having her (and, yes, no matter the visage, it is most definitely a “her”) flirt with the Doctor is hilarious. Amy wonders aloud if he “Wished really, really hard” for such an occurance. Gaiman proves to be a legitimately funny writer, which surprised me; what surprised me even more was how flat he fell on the final emotional note between The Doctor and his eponymous wife. The writing was kind of corny, a serious danger for anyone portraying emotional intimacy. I think the performances were good enough to salvage it (particularly on the part of Matt Smith), but I can’t help but feel unfulfilled. I must reiterate that the characterization was perfect, and the concept top tier, held back from perfection only by some ineffective execution and structure. Pity, really.

To his credit, Gaiman does more with Rory and Amy than his predecessors have this season. Rory is given room to contribute, and I don’t just mean the occasional self deprecating joke, which is all he’s been good for this season. On the other hand, more drama is wrung from Amy thinking her husband’s died, something I’m becoming very tired with. It was just last week that she shrieked for nearly a solid minute over Rory’s short-lived demise. They’re given a few high points, which I greatly appreciate; in a lot of ways the companions are as important as The Doctor, though you wouldn’t think it from watching the first three episodes of series 6. But, again, the potential here is not quite reached

As I write this, I’m beginning to notice a reoccurring theme in my notes. “This is good, but…” prefaces nearly every scribbling. Can a clause be more depressing? In this case, I refer to Gaiman’s setting of the episode, utilizing the impossible science of Doctor Who to its fullest, but not without the customary whiplash. The villain takes the form of a sentient cloud of green smoke, and employs three servants; two Frankensteins, assembled from the biological material of deceased Time Lords and one of the Ood, a benevolent creature twisted to villainy for the billionth time. The atmosphere is suitably engrossing. Unfortunately, I must again rail on the presentation, because the the villains, intriguing as they are, end up underwritten, and the Doctor’s heroism seems sloppier than it should. I found myself not really caring about the conflict, but just the way it was staged.

I think the episode worked when ditched the pulpy action sequences, and leaned more heavily on the world built around them. Anything involving Time Lords, for example, was sensational. The way The Doctor’s eyes lit up when he found out his species’ extinction may have been exaggerated was stupendous, and his anger at being deceived equally impacting. I think it was best when Gaiman was allowed to stretch his legs, and color the scenery, playing both on Doctor Who’s vast mythology and juxtaposing it with his own set of themes and unique style. Ultimately, the scenery was wonderful, even if most of what happened there was underwhelming.