Doctor Who : A Good Man Goes To … What?

By. J. Lewit

I like what Stephen Moffat, current maestro-mind of Doctor Who, is trying to do… I’m just not sure he’s actually doing it. As much as I enjoyed “A Good Man Goes to War”, the mid-season finale, I was not stunned into critical quiet like I was for the recently stellar episode “The Doctor’s Wife”. There’s plenty of great writing here. Moffat excels on the details: the Sontaran Nurse is a treasure, and dialogue like Amy’s zingers don’t grow on trees, no matter where they grow in time and space. What I’m worried about is that the story was explained to me before it happened – and then – it didn’t happen.

Tell versus show doesn’t trouble me – that’s a fine rule for some, but there’s also a reason it’s called storytelling, and some are quite good at it. But if you tell the people what you’re gonna tell them, you better tell them, or have a spectacular trick that gives the lie the um, lie. The trouble is, that part of the story has no trick. This story’s narration describes itself in big phrases that for aren’t about the companion, but about the Doctor himself: this is when everything changes. So things are going to go kerflooey. And then, they don’t. The Doctor runs away by himself in his little blue box. That, if anything, is The Doctor qua Doctor.

Strangely enough, I’d love “A Good Man Goes to War” if I didn’t have to deal with how the episode described itself. The flesh technology plot is goofy-edged sci-fi fun, tone-perfect modern Who. Taking a philosophical turn from the Davies era “I’m the Doctor, Run” speeches is grand storytelling. I’ve had my guess officially in on River’s identity since the end of last season (the wedding scenes clinched it), which made it all the more enjoyable to see play out. Without giving it away, Moffat’s done something wonderful in creating a family for The Doctor that doesn’t drag his uncles and aunts into play – which is wise. I think the Doctor’s mystery demands his genetic relations stay off-stage. The episode was almost too full of wonderful. 

Looking back on both the bow-ties-are-cool and many-colored-coats-are-not history of The Doctor, I don’t see a great turning point in how he handles things. It is decidedly odd for the Doctor to go collecting allies across time and space – which I quite enjoyed – but that isn’t the thrust of the title or the way the episode explains itself, through River’s narration. Compare this episode’s actions to say, Sylvester McCoy’s Seventh Doctor destroying Skaro in “Remembrance of the Daleks”, or the monster-cides committed by Tennant’s Tenth. Time War, remember?

River Song explains a plot that doesn’t happen. The Doctor doesn’t rise to his highest height – and he doesn’t fall to his darkest depth. “The Waters of Mars” and the Time Lord Triumphant would have scored closer to that mark, and I’ve seen Amy, Rory and plenty of other characters more upset with the Doctor than anything that happened here. It feels like those stories where the character starts off “This is how I died”, and then they have a near-death experience and survive (… um … Davies did that with Rose, didn’t he? Oh well…).

Part of the problem is that the plot zips by. The turns are packed so tight that it doesn’t matter if their brilliant or not – the audience is still blinded, they aren’t even paying attention. What might be interesting in a time-travel story – the Doctor becoming the very enemy his enemies have come to fear because of his reacting to how they tried to defeat him. We might see that theme arise in the second half of the season, but hopefully it won’t be honed down into a soundbite. River Song’s revelation that the Doctor has become feared by those who know what he’s accomplished: that might have merited more than a few seconds.

I want to watch the Doctor reach those heights and fall so far – I want to watch his perfect plan to disarm a whole army and rescue an innocent from a uncertain fate without harming a single soul, etc., etc. – and then be broken when he loses - but that has to be what happens. It’s the wrong sort of misdirection to say “Demon’s Run” is the Doctor’s darkest hour – and then find out that he’s merely stepped in some “fooled you twice” goo.

What it all comes down to is this: when Moffat was writing for Davies’ seasons, Moffat’s were often the best episodes of the lot. Now, his seasons seem burdened with over-arching mythology and grand plot-arcs - I’d rather see story gems, self-contained masterpieces. Doctor Who is, by it’s very nature, one of the best devices for episodic storytelling ever conceived. My advice, Moff, and I’m just a lowly editor: don’t let the mythology, the fan-hype, the rabid-mystery-nonsense lure you into making every moment about the giant drama of The Doctor’s life. Give yourself the freedom to tell great stories. If that includes some epics, great, but let them breathe. Give yourself time to make them all happen.

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