The Girl in the Fireplace

Quietly establishing himself a reputation as "the new Robert Holmes" (I quote, but not from myself) in writing for our beloved Doctor, Steven Moffat has also revealed himself to be something of a Doctor himself. Doctor Jekyl.

I don't like the man. He rubbed me up the wrong way with his dislike for eighties Who - anyone who dismisses a whole third of our show, especially the third I grew up with, in favour of his (then single) contribution to the series has got to love himself a bit too much. And yet one could not deny him the praise afforded to "The Empty Child", his taught, traditional and stylish debut episode last year. "The Girl In The Fireplace" similarly reeks of the magic touch, although like last year, we did not escape to The National Lottery Jet Set without Mr Hyde rearing his disagreeable head as well.

Let's look at Moffat's strengths first. Pace. Oh, what an untamable beast, RTD must sigh! One of the side-effects of naughties Doctor Who (and it can be very naughty) is that you can't get through the paltry 45 minutes without your mind subconsciously worrying about how the pace is "going". If it crackles along, you wish it would slow down. If it ambles, you start worrying they won't have time to tell a decent story before it has to finish. Half of me loves the fact that we get a new story every week, the other half laments what we have lost and been left with - a series that desperately wants to tug at our heartstrings, but can't because it has to engineer affection for characters we've only enjoyed four scenes with. Thus the Doctor's romance, which in days of yore might have been credible through three episodes of intimate moments and stolen conversations, now struggles to convince, and the Time Lord appears to simply leap on the first bit of skirt he encounters having stepped through the TARDIS doors. But you still have to give 'pace' to Moffatt over-all. At last in this episode we appeared to be smelling the roses. Characters wandered round without running. People seemed to have thoughtful moments. It all happened at a pace that didn't alienate me having just watched "The Android Invasion". And the ending still wasn't rushed. How does he do it? Please ask him, and then drop a line to the boss.

The plot was also rather good, if ham fistedly realised. Clockwork robots are good. Spaceships are very good. Robots that have murdered the crew and dissected them to repair the ship are very good indeed. Unfortunately, several of the devices used to relay these events betrayed a storyteller rather drunk on gazing at the framed picture of last years DWM Awards hanging on his study wall. The flashback in the pre-credits was a great idea, but making it to the almost random moment when Madam Pompadour reached 37 and was attacked was less mysterious than, say, starting with the moment when she first met the Doctor as a child, which was more significant to the narrative. And Moffat again tried to be too clever with his completely baffling last-minute "revelation". Explaining everything in one moment with the final shot is classy, but it only works if you can relay the twist completely clearly in that moment. Moffat's denouement still doesn't comprehensively explain why the robots conveniently targeted a historical character that was, like, perfect for a Doctor Who story. It sort of does, but a really good curtain-closer should have everything flooding in within seconds, not leave you to think you have probably worked it out by the middle-eight in the closing titles.

Mr Hyde also popped in before we had to leave, with several of Moffat's egotisms surfacing during this episode. Did someone on the production team have a jolly jape and tease him about not making the Doctor Dance again? For their benefit, the crazy fool couldn't resist dropping in a pointless nod to such a situation. And, likewise, this Doctor once again goes on about bananas. It's all very well to maintain continuity with previous work, but I couldn't help but think that, like all writers, Moffat was simply adding references to his favourite previous adventures. Just in this case, they happen to be his own. Finally, another indulgence, the Doctors all-too-physical romance with Madam Pompadour. Had he been less quick to want to trample over the belief of fans that the Doctor is asexual which, let's face facts, forty years of televised stories have all but confirmed, he might have noticed how ludicrous the tonguing situation seemed after all those years of celibacy. The lesson seems to be, forget about what you have to prove, and just get on with telling the story. An intellectual romance always seemed so much more satisfying anyway.

On the plus side, I'm hoping this tale will have appealed to the kids. There wasn't much historical tomfoolery in big wigs, which is a good thing. And the robots were probably quite frightening, for the most part. We got an intriguing plot, and, well, it was another good episode of Doctor Who wasn't it? Business as usual, then.