If You Are Sensitive About Even the Teensiest Doctor Who Spoilers, Skip This Now

Movers arrive tomorrow. I leave for NYC on Wednesday. House is a disaster. Oh god, I will be so relieved when this is over.

Meanwhile, I have been watching Doctor Who. Have seen all of both seasons now. LOVE it. Love it so. Love it to the point of pining for a little toy TARDIS. Especially love a happily, openly bisexual character on TV who is not punished for it or made to suffer and the totally obvious OT3ness of the first season. See icon. The TWOP recaps are also highly worth reading as Jacob is all up in this show’s Gnostic mytho-alchemical grille. They may have turned me from love to adore.

I will now attempt to be politic with the spoilers.

I am somewhat conflicted in my feminist glands, because I feel like they essentially did Buffy backwards–where Buffy was about the blonde horror movie chica becoming the hero, Who took Buffy and made her a sidekick, and one who is rather frequently totally helpless, even to the point of putting a weapon in an unconscious man’s hand and telling him to help her rather than do anything herself. Billie Piper looks more and more like Sarah Michelle Gellar as the seasons wear on, and since RTD clearly worships Buffy to the point of being unable to avoid mentioning it in the liner notes of the DVD, I can’t think that casting is an accident. However, Season One’s finale redeemed a lot of that for me, and S1 reads for me as kind of a story arc complete unto itself, and one which I will happily return to again and again. I found S2 much more problematic. Not the least because, after thirteen episodes, I realize that I will never attach to Tennant the way I did to Eccleston. My first Doctor. Can’t beat it with a stick. And while I teared up at the Sarah Jane episode, I just don’t like the way the Tenth Doctor interacts with those around him, especially the women. They seem to want to hammer home the idea that Companions can be nothing without the Doctor–yet Jack gets a spin-off and

Mickey does pretty well for himself, too. Chooses a destiny without the Doctor, as a freedom fighter. Rock out. So what gives? The angst that Sarah Jane and Rose have over how their lives are nothing without the Doctor, which SJ gets over and Rose, seemingly, does not, is way out of proportion to the men’s. Rose’s ending pissed me off royally. To see her sobbing on a beach that she’s nothing without him? This is our modern Companion? Fuck that noise. Though I imagine the TWOP recapper, who is interrogatting this text from a Gnostic angle, will make much of Rose wandering on a beach, exiled from the world. She is Sophia, to him. Great. I still wish, if we were going to get rid of her, it had just ended with the beauty and ascension of S1. The fact that even that was robbed from her, that there was no lasting effect at all, and the Doctor essentially stole her sacrifice, well, it’s no First Slayer. Couldn’t we see Rose deciding to defend that earth, stiff upper lip, life goes on, instead of the Doctor lightly mocking her with the “Defender” title? Anything but her broken and crying because she lost her man.

Is it just the women, then? Grr.

Ultimately–and TWOP says casting is not a spoiler, so I’m not putting this under a cut–I think it is a mistake to replace both lead actors within two seasons. I understand the nature of DW is that the actors change a lot, but this is not 1980 anymore, and we get attached. I also understand the actors wanted to leave. Fine, fuck them, actors are ungrateful and dumb more than 70% of the time. But I was just starting to get over Eccleston and they take away not only the only other character we have been asked to identify with, but all her attendant characters, too. That leaves precisely no original characters on the show besides, like, The Face of Boe, and that’s too much, too soon. I am not really looking forward to S3, because it’s essentially a new show. Martha looks a little…well, that spiky, punky hair makes me think of Poochie, the Rocking Dog. Maybe if she’s a med student, she’ll be less helpless. But all I see right now is “I have attitude and am wearing [p]leather. Look at me!” And I can’t get as excited for that as I did for S2, because exactly what storylines am I supposed to be thrilled for? More Daleks? W00t. Or something.

Which is another problem. The repetition of plot points–how many LAST DALEKS OMG can there possibly be? Yet they’ve done it three times. Almost worth it for the Delete/Exterminate thing, which was awesome, but it’s tiring. I also count three separate iterations of the “TV is EVIL and will ROT YOUR BRAIN” moral without once acknowledging the irony of delivering that message via a TV show. Shut up, Davies.

They took my Doctor and my Buffy-methadone away. Who am I supposed to care about? I’m more excited for Torchwood, because I care about Jack, and he’s over there.

And by way of non sequitur, general note to TV: I am tired of will they/won’t they? sex plots. Shut up and do it already, I’m tired. The X-Files pretty much shat all over that plotline for the next ten years so give it a rest.

Especially since you essentially pulled that shit this time and gave us no catharsis wrt Rose and the Doctor’s relationship. One mystical kiss a full season ago does not closure make. Ask Cordelia.

Plus the Tenth Doctor bugs on a general level. He is too young, too goofy, his nose is all rodent-like, and he giggles too much. Whatever. Eccleston had gravitas, yet big goofy smiles and a total love for being a superhero with a time machine. I love that. Tennant has…cute glasses. And I admit, like Superman, his power seems to be that he can put on those glasses and become someone I can’t recognize–an attractive male. Tennant is also not nearly as good at the angry speechifying.

But I love it, anyway. It has the humor-and-horror sandwich that Buffy did, but with sci-fi and awesome accents. It’s sad and touching and weirdly nostalgic, vibrating at viewer-frequency about lost loves and chances and taking a step out of the world. I would love to have a little model TARDIS on my desk, to remind me about the importance of making that choice, the choice to chase something impossible and extraordinary but totally unsafe over Powell Estates and all they represent. Sometimes I need to be reminded that the former is almost always the better choice.

Doctor Who is love, man, and I am not even kidding.

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