« This is the end. Beautiful friendThis is the end. My only friend, the end »
(The Doors)
[Spoilish Mode engaged] So the long goodbye begins. The eagerly anticipated part one of The End of Time, the Doctor Who Christmas/New Year special marks the start of David Tennant's final appearance as the tenth Doctor.
Something wicked this way comes for Christmas and it's worse than the Sycorax, the Rachnos or the You've been Framed! Christmas special. Is it everybody's favourite psycho, The Master? The former blairesque/jokeresque PM (John Simm again, in a "trip of a lifetime") is brought back to life by a bunch of worshippers with the involuntary assistance of Lucy Saxon (Alexandra Moen) - locked in her private Guantanamo.
The resurrection process turns not like expected as The Master now eats like Gordon Ramsay talks. Someone is interested anyway, renowned author Joshua Naismith (David Harewood) who observes and awaits with his daughter Abigail (Tracy Ifeachor). « Christmas is cancelled » says the man, and he's got no idea how much he's right. Idiots and fouls...
The Doctor is warned and his mission (he can only accept it) is to try to stop his worst enemy with an Impossible Mission Force of his own: good ol' Wilf - Donna's grand-dad (the great Bernard Cribbins) and his task force of senior citizen friends. Things could not be worse? Think again... Donna (Catherine Tate) is engaged and must not remember The Doctor or her adventures with him. And the Doctor knows he's going to die. Good luck.
The End of Time. The End of the Russell T. Davies era as showrunner of the myth he revived in 2005. Magic, epic, triumphs, magnificence, formidable stories, moments that will stay in the History of Television. Hard times too, with a disappointing series 4 (at least in its second half), an inelegant botched regeneration and a terrible finale followed by uneven specials.
The Next Doctor was brilliant except that David Morrissey was not... The Next Doctor. Planet of the Dead was, well er, how to put it... to forget. And The Waters of Mars was a true relief, even after 30 minutes of embarassing flashbacks of an Italian zombie movie of the 80s (yeah, right... A pre-watershed Italian zombie movie of the 80s, then).
The Doctor and Wilf have bad dreams and a mission. The rest of the protagonists have their own agenda, their sweet dreams. Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you, etc (remember Eurythmics). Some manipulate, some are manipulated or are they? It's just a matter of taste.
The stuff that dreams are made of. The stuff of legends (Timothy Dalton and June Whitfield are there). We'll see if Russell T. Davies can master the cliffhanger of this first part. The Toclafanes were Jelly Babies compared to what happens to the Human race this Christmas.
Something wicked this way comes for the End of Time. And who knows more about Time than the narrator of the story and his audience?
Sweet dreams are made of this.
Something wicked this way comes for Christmas and it's worse than the Sycorax, the Rachnos or the You've been Framed! Christmas special. Is it everybody's favourite psycho, The Master? The former blairesque/jokeresque PM (John Simm again, in a "trip of a lifetime") is brought back to life by a bunch of worshippers with the involuntary assistance of Lucy Saxon (Alexandra Moen) - locked in her private Guantanamo.
The resurrection process turns not like expected as The Master now eats like Gordon Ramsay talks. Someone is interested anyway, renowned author Joshua Naismith (David Harewood) who observes and awaits with his daughter Abigail (Tracy Ifeachor). « Christmas is cancelled » says the man, and he's got no idea how much he's right. Idiots and fouls...
The Doctor is warned and his mission (he can only accept it) is to try to stop his worst enemy with an Impossible Mission Force of his own: good ol' Wilf - Donna's grand-dad (the great Bernard Cribbins) and his task force of senior citizen friends. Things could not be worse? Think again... Donna (Catherine Tate) is engaged and must not remember The Doctor or her adventures with him. And the Doctor knows he's going to die. Good luck.
The End of Time. The End of the Russell T. Davies era as showrunner of the myth he revived in 2005. Magic, epic, triumphs, magnificence, formidable stories, moments that will stay in the History of Television. Hard times too, with a disappointing series 4 (at least in its second half), an inelegant botched regeneration and a terrible finale followed by uneven specials.
The Next Doctor was brilliant except that David Morrissey was not... The Next Doctor. Planet of the Dead was, well er, how to put it... to forget. And The Waters of Mars was a true relief, even after 30 minutes of embarassing flashbacks of an Italian zombie movie of the 80s (yeah, right... A pre-watershed Italian zombie movie of the 80s, then).
The Doctor and Wilf have bad dreams and a mission. The rest of the protagonists have their own agenda, their sweet dreams. Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you, etc (remember Eurythmics). Some manipulate, some are manipulated or are they? It's just a matter of taste.
The stuff that dreams are made of. The stuff of legends (Timothy Dalton and June Whitfield are there). We'll see if Russell T. Davies can master the cliffhanger of this first part. The Toclafanes were Jelly Babies compared to what happens to the Human race this Christmas.
Something wicked this way comes for the End of Time. And who knows more about Time than the narrator of the story and his audience?
Sweet dreams are made of this.
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