2.11: Fear Her
Synopsis: London, 2012, on the eve of the Olympic Games. On a typical street, children are disappearing. When the Doctor and Rose begin investigating, it seems as though the culprit can remove things from time and space, as well as make them manifest.
A local girl, Chloe Webber, is able to draw items and people into and out of existence. The Doctor discovers that she has been overtaken by an adolescent Isolus, a race which literally sustains itself through companionship. It is used to being surrounded by four billion family members, and now lost, it uses its power to claim children off the street to be its friends. When it looks as though the Doctor will stop it by reanimating the Isolus' space pod, it makes a drawing of him and the TARDIS, thus snatching them both. Then, in order to gain maximum friendship, it draws the entire stadium during the Olympic opening ceremonies, and steals 120,000 spectators and athletes, and attempts to draw the Earth.
From his position in the drawing, the Doctor guides Rose to the Olympic torch, which invokes heat and love, the two things the pod needs to fly again. The Isolus can then leave, thus releasing its hold on the drawings and making them come back to life.
Golden Comic Moment: It is hardly a given that the TARDIS makes a perfect landing every time it appears somewhere. Obviously, some of the Doctor's most memorable adventures have come about as a result of having misfired and wound up in the wrong place or time. But what happens when it's just a little bit off? A few inches, or an angle is wrong? When they first arrive, TARDIS materialises between two dumpsters, but it is sideways, and the door won't open. The Doctor responds with a quizzical, "Hmph," and he re-apparates the thing so that the door faces front. It's the Time Lord equivalent of having to re-do one's parallel parking job because one has hit the curb or is too far away. You can picture the Doctor with his arm thrown over the backseat and the wheel turning against his palm, and an annoyed look on his face.
Okay, so it's not laugh-out-loud funny, but it does make us smile because it's such a tiny, yet such an inconvenient, imperfection.
Also, props go to the writers for making the Doctor say the phrase, "my manly, hairy hand."
Golden Fangirl Moment: Five words: "I was a dad once." The fans know this, but at this point in the new series, we have all but forgotten. Not that we don't keep in mind all of the Doctor's past incarnations, but it has been a really, really long time since we've been reminded that the Doctor once had offspring! Not since the First Doctor and Susan have we had a direct connection to this chapter of our favorite Time Lord's life. No comment on Jenny, the Child of the Machine; we'll get to her later.
What's more, Rose has no idea what he's talking about when he says it, and it is all the more tantalising a phrase because he never elaborates for her, never finishes the thought nor has a chance to explain.
Cringeworthy Moment: Again with the ick. Even David Tennant has pointed out that at this stage, the Doctor and Rose are just a bit too pleased with themselves, and the universe cannot allow them to continue. Their flirtatious "cop" banter inside the TARDIS as they zero in on Chloe Webber is just... well, you know.
Doctor: Are you deducting?
Rose: I think I am.
Doctor: Copper's hunch?
Rose: Permission to follow it up, Sarge?
On any other show, this exchange, delivered the way it is, would have been a fantasy role-play, and followed by a good, juicy snog or an allusion to handcuffs or punishment of some sort. Maybe it's the fact that Doctor Who seems to have blue balls at this point in the series is what makes it all so frustrating.
I'm tired of talking about how gushy these two are. What do you say we point out something nice about their relationship for once?
Golden Moment: In Chloe's room, among all of the living drawings, Kel, the Council maintenance man says, "I'm not being funny or nothing, but that picture just moved. And that one!" The latter is the image of the Doctor, whose figure has moved to point out the Olympic torch to Rose. It is a moment that answers several questions, including how will the Doctor save the day from a piece of paper, how will the Isolus fly again, and can the drawings hear what's going on in the room?
But oddly, almost perversely, in that moment, Rose has a personal connection with a piece of paper because the Doctor is the piece of paper. The image of him has become him, and the piece of paper knows her and knows that the creepy, cryptic clue will be interpreted correctly. Moments like these are where the Doctor/Companion relationship is best demonstrated, how the trust and faith that exists between them is best used. The Doctor is incapacitated, except for a few meager abilities, and because they know each other so well, the Companion can take what he's given her and help save the day. Moments like these illustrate why the Doctor chooses the people he chooses, not furtive glances, random hugs and blatant statements like "I believe in her."
Why I Beg To Differ: This story contains a mislead, and DWM likes the reveal of the mislead as the Golden Moment. Just when it looks like the Doctor is going to solve the problem with a Deus ex machina device, he is taken prisoner by the Isolus, and we see that the answer must necessarily lie somewhere else. The shift, they say, represents good storytelling, because as Rose goes nuts trying to get the Doctor back, we discover that the real problem has not even been properly identified yet, and that the Doctor didn't have all the answers anyway.
This is true. However, we are not a fan of this episode from a storytelling standpoint, because it seems that it is The Idiot's Lantern with the modus operandi changed and roles reversed. That is to say, something is mysteriously snatching people and putting their images someplace else, and uses a large televised event to satisfy its bigger urges. In the The Idiot's Lantern, Rose is taken, in Fear Her, the Doctor is taken.
So, we are, childishly, unwilling to concede any storytelling kudos. However, as far as characterization, this episode does very well. It contains lots of little moments of the Doctor just being the Doctor ("Fingers on lips!"), Rose just being Rose ("I know what kids are like - right little sh... terrors."), and people just being people ("You've stolen a council axe from a council van!"). And to that end, it does very effectively show the Doctor and Rose just beng Time Lord and Companion, old-school style.
A local girl, Chloe Webber, is able to draw items and people into and out of existence. The Doctor discovers that she has been overtaken by an adolescent Isolus, a race which literally sustains itself through companionship. It is used to being surrounded by four billion family members, and now lost, it uses its power to claim children off the street to be its friends. When it looks as though the Doctor will stop it by reanimating the Isolus' space pod, it makes a drawing of him and the TARDIS, thus snatching them both. Then, in order to gain maximum friendship, it draws the entire stadium during the Olympic opening ceremonies, and steals 120,000 spectators and athletes, and attempts to draw the Earth.
From his position in the drawing, the Doctor guides Rose to the Olympic torch, which invokes heat and love, the two things the pod needs to fly again. The Isolus can then leave, thus releasing its hold on the drawings and making them come back to life.
Golden Comic Moment: It is hardly a given that the TARDIS makes a perfect landing every time it appears somewhere. Obviously, some of the Doctor's most memorable adventures have come about as a result of having misfired and wound up in the wrong place or time. But what happens when it's just a little bit off? A few inches, or an angle is wrong? When they first arrive, TARDIS materialises between two dumpsters, but it is sideways, and the door won't open. The Doctor responds with a quizzical, "Hmph," and he re-apparates the thing so that the door faces front. It's the Time Lord equivalent of having to re-do one's parallel parking job because one has hit the curb or is too far away. You can picture the Doctor with his arm thrown over the backseat and the wheel turning against his palm, and an annoyed look on his face.
Okay, so it's not laugh-out-loud funny, but it does make us smile because it's such a tiny, yet such an inconvenient, imperfection.
Also, props go to the writers for making the Doctor say the phrase, "my manly, hairy hand."
Golden Fangirl Moment: Five words: "I was a dad once." The fans know this, but at this point in the new series, we have all but forgotten. Not that we don't keep in mind all of the Doctor's past incarnations, but it has been a really, really long time since we've been reminded that the Doctor once had offspring! Not since the First Doctor and Susan have we had a direct connection to this chapter of our favorite Time Lord's life. No comment on Jenny, the Child of the Machine; we'll get to her later.
What's more, Rose has no idea what he's talking about when he says it, and it is all the more tantalising a phrase because he never elaborates for her, never finishes the thought nor has a chance to explain.
Cringeworthy Moment: Again with the ick. Even David Tennant has pointed out that at this stage, the Doctor and Rose are just a bit too pleased with themselves, and the universe cannot allow them to continue. Their flirtatious "cop" banter inside the TARDIS as they zero in on Chloe Webber is just... well, you know.
Doctor: Are you deducting?
Rose: I think I am.
Doctor: Copper's hunch?
Rose: Permission to follow it up, Sarge?
On any other show, this exchange, delivered the way it is, would have been a fantasy role-play, and followed by a good, juicy snog or an allusion to handcuffs or punishment of some sort. Maybe it's the fact that Doctor Who seems to have blue balls at this point in the series is what makes it all so frustrating.
I'm tired of talking about how gushy these two are. What do you say we point out something nice about their relationship for once?
Golden Moment: In Chloe's room, among all of the living drawings, Kel, the Council maintenance man says, "I'm not being funny or nothing, but that picture just moved. And that one!" The latter is the image of the Doctor, whose figure has moved to point out the Olympic torch to Rose. It is a moment that answers several questions, including how will the Doctor save the day from a piece of paper, how will the Isolus fly again, and can the drawings hear what's going on in the room?
But oddly, almost perversely, in that moment, Rose has a personal connection with a piece of paper because the Doctor is the piece of paper. The image of him has become him, and the piece of paper knows her and knows that the creepy, cryptic clue will be interpreted correctly. Moments like these are where the Doctor/Companion relationship is best demonstrated, how the trust and faith that exists between them is best used. The Doctor is incapacitated, except for a few meager abilities, and because they know each other so well, the Companion can take what he's given her and help save the day. Moments like these illustrate why the Doctor chooses the people he chooses, not furtive glances, random hugs and blatant statements like "I believe in her."
Why I Beg To Differ: This story contains a mislead, and DWM likes the reveal of the mislead as the Golden Moment. Just when it looks like the Doctor is going to solve the problem with a Deus ex machina device, he is taken prisoner by the Isolus, and we see that the answer must necessarily lie somewhere else. The shift, they say, represents good storytelling, because as Rose goes nuts trying to get the Doctor back, we discover that the real problem has not even been properly identified yet, and that the Doctor didn't have all the answers anyway.
This is true. However, we are not a fan of this episode from a storytelling standpoint, because it seems that it is The Idiot's Lantern with the modus operandi changed and roles reversed. That is to say, something is mysteriously snatching people and putting their images someplace else, and uses a large televised event to satisfy its bigger urges. In the The Idiot's Lantern, Rose is taken, in Fear Her, the Doctor is taken.
So, we are, childishly, unwilling to concede any storytelling kudos. However, as far as characterization, this episode does very well. It contains lots of little moments of the Doctor just being the Doctor ("Fingers on lips!"), Rose just being Rose ("I know what kids are like - right little sh... terrors."), and people just being people ("You've stolen a council axe from a council van!"). And to that end, it does very effectively show the Doctor and Rose just beng Time Lord and Companion, old-school style.