Review of The Time of the Doctor
Warning: This review contains episode-specific spoilers and wild speculation about future episodes.
I suppose my expectations finally sank to the cellar when the first “nude Doctor” promo pics hit the Web. You’d think there would be no room left for crushed hopes after that, but apparently you’d be mistaken. It seems I had an iota of optimism left that Moffat could tie shit together coherently—I really ought to know better.
Usually I enjoy Moffat’s episodes in the moment; it’s not till later when I have time to think about the plot that I realize how riddled it is with holes and other offenses. Most times he manages to catch me up in the emotion of each scene (which is, after all, his strong suit) and I can take an episode as it was intended on that first viewing.
Not this time.
Maybe it had something to do with all of the interruptions (mine were familial rather than commercial, but I’m sure the effect was much the same for those who watched on BBCA). Or maybe it was the painful running “gag” about nudity (which just… No.). At any rate, from the very first chirping tones of the message—the Question—and the Mother Superious’s droning voiceover, I was a detached observer, uninvested (at least in a good way) in the proceedings. I was pissed at Clara for not listening when the Doctor said he was in danger, I was pissed at the Doctor for blatantly ignoring human social mores (with which he is damn well familiar), and I was pissed with Moffat for thinking that “for kids” and “juvenile” were interchangeable.