Doctor Who: The Eleventh Hour

It’s been a few days now and while I’ve only seen “the Eleventh Hour” once I have been cogitating on it, reading what some others have thought about it and – importantly – nattering with mates about it.

Before I get to 2010, a quick trip is needed back to 2005.

I had similar feelings back then as now. Doctor Who was coming back to television. This was the show I grew up with, spent countless hours playing in its universes and even more hours dissecting what I liked and didn’t like about it, and made numerous really close friends through a shared interest. As a 37 year old who had just emigrated to England I had pretty much sorted out my life: work was for work, and Doctor Who was one thing I enjoyed outside of work and dabbled with in terms of professional writing. It was rare for me to volunteer my interest in Doctor Who to work colleagues even when I was still back in Australia. I was used to the teasing, and bored with the ignorance that usually accompanied it. I was never bullied about my childhood interest in science fiction and fantasy, and despite being a shy kid with all the usual teenaged insecurities (plus unrecognised confusion about sexual orientation) I did go through an unexpected period as a guru when Peter Davison became the Doctor. That was the early 1980s. And, actually, back in the late 1970s I was the go-to girl for Doctor Who because our teacher was into it, and the other girls had a bit of a thing for him. In 2005 Doctor Who was in the air again because it was coming back to BBC1 that Easter.

The man at the helm of that revival was, as you all know, Russell T. Davies.

I have a Russell story. It was 2000 in a Manchester hotel for Panopticon. There was a group of us nursing hangovers in the hotel bar. In walked a tall geezer who my mates knew, but I didn’t. Paul Cornell did the gentlemanly thing by introducing me to this giant. The tall guy was excited to meet one of the two editors of Bog Off! and raved about how much he loved my Absolutely Fabulous/Doctor Who cross over skit. Then Paul said, “And this is Russell Davies.”

It was a jaw-dropping moment. At that stage all I’d seen of Russell’s work was Queer as Folk, and I still think it is one of the most exciting pieces of TV the UK has produced out of an extraordinary catalogue of material.

I was comfortable Russell T. Davies was going to do a brilliant job with Doctor Who, but in one odd way I was no longer watching as a fan. Took me a while to work that one out, and it’s a thought I ask you to hold for a moment.

“Rose” as a ride was sheer joy. I loved it. And my love for it didn’t diminish the multiple times I watched it in 2005. When the boxed set of DVDs finally arrived I ended up watching it again, and the thrill of Eccleston bringing the Doctor back to life hadn’t eroded at all.

Extraordinary. Especially given that it’s far from being my favourite Doctor Who story.

I watched every episode of the Russell T. Davies years that way. I’ve re-watched a few stories, and can easily get caught up in the magic of it all.

Well, mostly. There were those stories I haven’t re-watched and my memory makes me baulk at the idea of doing so. “Daleks of Manhattan”/“Evolution of the Daleks” is one such story, much as I love the Daleks and Manhattan.

What struck me this Easter weekend was how I wasn’t that willing, really, to engage with the show that started again back in 2005. When I moved to London it was fun to go to the pub with friends to talk about the episode just aired, and the jokes flowed with the beer or wine, but what I enjoyed most was the company. Only once do I remember my fan-academic brain rousing enough to defend “Fear Her” on a textual basis when before that would have been de rigueur.

I never felt drawn to fan forums (or, rather, to try to find ones that weren’t havens for trolls), or write fan articles about the show. Even last year updating a fan article I’d originally written in the mid-1990s for a Time Unincorporated was a struggle to include new series stuff. Once, it would’ve been easy. I don’t remember that being anything more than a brief puzzlement, and I didn’t really think about it as even odd. I was enjoying Doctor Who’s amazing resurgence. The shift from the old creaky show only geeks and misfits love too much (“their” view, not mine) to king of the playground. I adore the story a friend shared when before the Easter 2005 holidays his son was not exactly popular at school; after the holidays he had become the coolest kid. Why? Because he knew stuff, and his dad knew people. Overnight, Doctor Who knowledge became a valuable currency. It was the same in the adult world of work, and I’ll never forget the awe in which co-workers held me when I let slip I had written some Doctor Who short stories for Big Finish.

Five years later and Doctor Who being über-fashionable hasn’t gone away.

Critically, yes, there is ample to poke and prod about individual stories, or scenes in stories, that perhaps don’t really work. I, though, want to salute Russell T. Davies and everyone who worked on those stories from 2005 to 2009 for the enjoyment they brought me in the guise of what I’m delighted to call one of my favourite TV shows.



I have many Steven Moffat stories.

I was on holiday in England in 1994, staying with Paul Cornell the day he first met Steven Moffat. I remember Paul’s nervous excitement at the fact the writer of Press Gang wanted to meet him, writer of some Doctor Who New Adventures.

I didn’t actually meet Moffat for the first time until 2003, but I’d got to know him through mutual friends and the internet. Since I’ve moved to the UK, we’ve become mates who’ll go to the pub and have a good old natter when we meet at parties and such like. I’m declaring that because it affects my relationship with Doctor Who.

When I knew Steven Moffat was going to take on the job from Russell T. Davies I knew Doctor Who was in safe hands. I’ll amend that because “safe” isn’t really the best word. Maybe “expert” hands is better.

Like Russell, Steven Moffat isn’t exactly a novice at this TV game. They are professionals with a history of groundbreaking series behind them.

They also both know Doctor Who.

Doctor Who is diverse. It’s been many different things in its 47 year history, and means different things to different people. Both Russell and Steven obviously understand that and aren’t overwhelmed by it. They have their take on it, but they also get the production side and know it’s a collaboration, and that it’s not just their toy.

I was ready for the ride to begin again.



What surprised me most about “The Eleventh Hour” was what I did afterwards. At the pub I wanted to talk about what things meant. What’s been left deliberately hanging to be picked up later? What are the relationships between Amy and the village? What happened to her family? What’s the story with her aunt? Why did Amelia have a packed suitcase ready under her bed?

I wanted to play in Doctor Who again.

That surprised me. Amazed me. Writing about it now I think it shows the complicated personal relationships we have with story telling. There is something about the way Steven writes that clicks with the way I like stories to be told. Why I loved Press Gang all those years ago, and loved Coupling, and why I knew there would be a pay-off with Jekyll.

Steven Moffat’s on record as saying that Davison was his Doctor. Funnily enough, while I grew up with Pertwee and Tom Baker, I became a truly obsessed fan over seasons 18, 19 and 20. They are the stories I can quote from, and remember with a passion that burns even now. I’ve never rated Davison as my favourite Doctor, though, and I hate that question of ranking Doctors (I love them all in their own way), but that era? Well, that’s different. That was when I started to play in Doctor Who. It was when I started my first fanzine and started to write fan fiction.

“The Eleventh Hour” and seasons 18, 19 and 20 are hardly the same thing in structure, sophistication and production. The companions then were ciphers; Amy cannot be described as that, not even when she was the child Amelia.

Perhaps it’s the Doctor?

Davison and Smith are not the same. Smith’s Doctor is Smith’s, and it’s so true that he inhabits the part as soon as he appeared. So did Davison, really; actually, if we’re being honest, so did all of them! We viewers just might have taken a little longer to warm to some of them than with others, but being brutal that has not been because of the performer bringing the Doctor to life.

It’s the hard-to-define Doctorishness that flows through all of them.

Actually, I don’t want to analyse this too much in case the magic disappears. Whatever it is, I am conscious I would not be thinking these things without what Russell T. Davies brought back in 2005.

Perhaps the most telling thing was last night @Nimbos and I were quoting “The Eleventh Hour” like it was “The Five Doctors”, which is something I never did for the four years before.

For me, Doctor Who is 100% back, and I’m a fan again.