Blasphemy!  Heresy!  Buuuuuurn heeeeeer!

OK, that’s probably overstating the reaction a bit, but I may well be ostracized at my own get-together after this one.  The Ladies of WhoFest are firm Tennantites, so admitting my Smithian leanings is sure to engender some antagonism, or at the very least disdain. I can’t deny it any more, though.  I think Eleven has surpassed Ten for me in terms of watchability.

Don’t get me wrong – Ten is my Doctor.  I fell in love with him (yeah, I mean it that way – how Mary Sue of me; and yes, I wept like a pregnant lady during The End of Time…), and through him learned to love all the Doctors, each in their own way.  But there’s something a bit off-putting about The Lonely God after a while.  While I loved the Saddest Doctor when he was in a manic phase – oh, that smile… – I got tired of him getting screwed (metaphorically, and – depending on how you interpret a few things – literally) all the time.  The guy couldn’t catch a break.  Given how RTD chose to write his story arc, I have to say it was probably time for Ten to regenerate; I mean, how much lower could he go?

Perhaps it will come as no surprise, then, when I say that what I’ve come to love most about Eleven is the return of his joie de vivre.  Sure, the pain is still lurking there in his eyes when someone forcibly reminds him of it, but for the most part, he can put it out of his mind the way anyone who’s lost a loved one learns to do (or, as Two put it in Tomb of the Cybermen, “I have to really want to – to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time they… they sleep in my mind, and I forget.”).  But overall, Eleven gives off a kid-in-a-candy-store vibe, like he hardly knows where to begin because it’s all so fabulous – sort of like Ten’s breathy “that’s beautiful!” upon first seeing the werewolf in Tooth and Claw, except all the time. New regeneration, new companion(s), new outlook; in a sense everything that Ten was really did die.  And while part of me misses him, another larger part just doesn’t have the time, because watching Eleven is too damn much fun.

This certainly wasn’t a quick or simple transition.  I went through a real grieving process for My Doctor (details are irrelevant, and vaguely embarrassing).  How many times before had fans gone through this?” This Doctor was so good; how can the next bloke possibly measure up?”  Over and over again, though, it worked (with a possible exception of the Five to Six transition, which really wasn’t Colin Baker’s fault so much as his writers’).  Knowing that, I resolved to remain Cautiously Optimistic.

Hard as I tried, though, I couldn’t help doubting.  I’d debate myself.  I’d start with “he’s so young” (not how I saw Tennant, who is all of 2 months my junior), “he’s a bit odd-looking” (though so were Troughton, Tom Baker, McCoy…), and “what’s with that bow tie?!”.  I’d counter myself with “Moffat wouldn’t have chosen  him right off the bat if he weren’t brilliant” and “you can’t possibly judge him on two minutes, immediately post-regeneration.”  As the new series approached, I got progressively antsier.  I felt like a junkie jonesing for a fix (as perhaps I was).

Once Eleventh Hour aired, I was somewhat mollified.  All right.  Not bad.  Nothing too alarming there.  He didn’t feel very Doctor-y until he walked through Ten’s image to intone, “I’m the Doctor,” but that’s OK.  After all, by his own admission, he wasn’t done cooking yet.  However, apparently that episode was all some fans needed; Smith’s performance had already outstripped Tennant’s in their views.

By contrast, it took me a relatively long time to warm to Eleven. It wasn’t until his “funny how you can say something in your head, and it sounds fine…” leading into the credits for Vampires of Venice that I wholeheartedly embraced him in the role. Even then, he was just “a worthy successor” in my book. It was several re-viewings of the series later that I started to feel that Smith’s performances are surpassing Tennant’s. I think it’s the way he’s so Classic’ly “proper bonkers,” as Moffat put it.  Really.  If you look back at Classic Who – perhaps especially at Tom Baker’s over-the-top performance as Four – you’ll see there’s always something… a bit mental about the Doctor.  He comes off a bit of a nutter.  Ten didn’t quite have that (nor, come to think of it did Five, the one Tennant considered “his” Doctor).  Quirky, perhaps, and definitely a bit odd, but not a nutter.  Not a mad man in a blue box…

I guess when all is said and done, for me it’s a matter of accepting the inevitable, of embracing the present. It was great while it lasted, but Ten’s time has gone; now is the Eleventh Age. Matt Smith is the Doctor and I, for one, am enjoying the hell out of it.  The Doctor is dead; long live the Doctor.

David Tennant still wins hands down on hotness, though.