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Doctor Who: The Woman Who Fell to Earth (Review)

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“Really?”

“Well, I will have by the time I reach the top.”

– the more things change

The Woman Who Fell to Earth has a lot of pressure working upon it as Doctor Who season premieres go.

This is the first time that the Doctor has changed gender during regeneration, and is the first time that the title role will be played by a female actor. This is only the second time that the series has changed showrunner and rebuilt itself from the ground up since it returned more than a decade ago. There is a lot riding on The Woman Who Fell to Earth, and a lot of expectations that need to be satisfied.

Doctor who?

The Woman Who Fell to Earth is efficient, if not excellent. As a showrunner and scriptwriter, Chris Chibnall immediately and effectively establishes himself as a safe pair of hands. On some level, this is disappointing. After all, both Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat were showrunners who immediately and aggressively asserted bold visions of what Doctor Who could be, announcing their arrival on the series with a confident statement of purpose that left the series scrambling to keep up. Instead, The Woman Who Fell to Earth seems to promise business as usual.

This isn’t inherently a bad thing, to be fair. There is some argument that Doctor Who might even need a safe and reliable pair of hands at this point. Chibnall is a writer who is much less adventurous than Davies or Moffat, but The Woman Who Fell to Earth is infused with a back-to-basics meat-and-potatoes approach. A lot of the episode is spent trying to avoid potential pitfalls that would emphasise Chibnall’s relative weaknesses, and instead play to a very broad “big tent” ideal of what Doctor Who can be.

Breaking out.

Indeed, The Woman Who Fell to Earth works best in its relatively straightforward nuts-and-bolts elements, when judged on the individual elements of the episode rather than how they all fit together. Jodie Whittaker throws herself into the lead role and understands that she’s effectively propelling the narrative forward. The new regular ensemble has a breezy and easy chemistry that feels suitably distinct from more recent inhabitants of the TARDIS. The actual plotting of the episode is fairly boilerplate Doctor Who, almost as if the series is showing that it can still do that.

That said, there’s a worrying lack of ambition evident in The Woman Who Fell to Earth and its business-as-usual approach to Doctor Who. This is a season premiere that feels more of a piece with episodes like Smith and Jones, Partners in Crime or Deep Breath, episodes that are less concerned with bold questions of vision than they are with the mechanics of simply introducing a new lead. It’s disappointing, because the stock comparison for The Woman Who Fell to Earth should be something as wonderful as Rose or The Eleventh Hour.

Jodie’s Wits-About-Her.

Perhaps the most reassuring aspect of The Woman Who Fell to Earth is that Chibnall intuitively understands that he is not either Russell T. Davies or Steven Moffat, and so consciously avoids trying to write the show in their voices. The most striking difference between The Woman Who Fell to Earth and early seasons of Doctor Who is the quality of the banter and dialogue involved. Davies and Moffat had very different rhythms and styles, but both of those writers were much better with dialogue than Chibnall. Even if the Twelfth Doctor repeatedly outlined his position on “banter.”

Very early in The Woman Who Fell to Earth, it becomes apparent that Chibnall cannot match the knack that Davies and Moffat had for writing character voices. The first few acts of the episode include a frustrating amount of rat-tat-tat back-and-forth dialogue sessions full of inane call-and-response prompts like “… which is?” and “… and tell them?” It never really flows, and the issue isn’t the actors delivering the lines, who have dialogue to spare.

The Doctor has to run a battery of tests.

Luckily, The Woman Who Fell to Earth seems to identify this weakness early on, and tries to compensate. Chibnall doesn’t seem particularly interested in competing with Davies and Moffat in terms of dialogue, even if the episode features the obligatory exposition dumps and big thematic speeches that are expected from scenery-setting episodes. Instead, Chibnall builds the episode like a rocket so that there is no need for dialogue.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth is pacing incredibly, jumping rapidly around various plot threads, and raising various questions. The characters rarely have time for actual conversations, because there is always something happening in order to escalate the pace. The Woman Who Fell to Earth feels like it is powered entirely by sugar and rapid-fire editing, to the point that it manages to make something like The Eleventh Hour seem sedate by comparison. Moffat’s dialogue typically moved fast enough to keep his episodes pacy, but The Woman Who Fell to Earth turns it to eleven.

To catch a pseudo-Predator.

“Suddenly, I feel very tired,” the Doctor states about one third of the way through the episode, and it is easy to see why. The actual plot of The Woman Who Fell to Earth is a fairly straightfoward homage to Predator, but the plotting is relentless and busy. “C’mon,” the Doctor urges her companions at one point. “Keep up.” The episode is full of lots of extraneous and overly-elaborate details that exist largely to provide the episode with an excuse to cut away from scenes of character’s talking. This seems to be the entire purpose of the character played by Amit Shah.

There’s nothing wrong with this. In fact, it is kind of exhilarating in its own fashion. This is Chibnall making a conscious bid for younger and familial audiences, by serving up a series that is paced in such a way as to evoke the more frantic rhymes of contemporary pop culture. It also exists as something of a reaction against the “clever-clever” dialogue-driven storytelling of the Moffat-era, which was somewhat contentious among long-term fans and which was frequently speculated to be something that alienated potential and casual viewers.

All fired up.

Chibnall’s seeming acknowledgement of this weakness with dialogue perhaps also explains the emphasis on visual storytelling within The Woman Who Fell to Earth, and not just in the obvious computer-generated special effects sort of way. Although the episode opens on a quiet personal YouTube video, it almost immediately cuts to a very beautiful wide shot of the British countryside. The establishing shot takes in the mundane majesty of the British landscape in a way that suggests an improved scope and scale.

Doctor Who has always balanced the idea of the intimate with the epic, existing a story as a rogue traveler in a stolen car who inadvertently changes the course of history and who radically affects the lives of anyone with whom she comes into contact. That contrast is obvious in characters like Rose, the shop girl who gets the opportunity to explore the length and breadth of the timeline. However, those early shots in The Woman Who Fell to Earth suggests that the blurring of intimate and epic is even stronger here. The familiar already appears breathtaking and spectacular.

More like Shefforest, amirite?

The Woman Who Fell to Earth is decidedly cinematic in its storytelling, in terms of its composition and its framing. When Tosin wanders into the forest to recover his bike, it is like he has already crossed over into a magical realm. Those shots of the Doctor and Carl atop the two cranes are framed in such a way as to emphasise the scale at which the characters are engaging. Everything appears bigger and bolder.

Cinematographer Denis Crossan gives the series a crisper and starker look than earlier iterations of the series. The colour palette is a little darker, broken up with eerie nighttime yellows and muted greeny-greys. Jamie Childs does good work at providing a sense of scale, often framing the action in wide shots to give the audience a sense of perspective. It makes sense that Childs would direct so much of the season as a whole. The Woman Who Fell to Earth looks more like contemporary television just in terms of style, having the sort of production value associated with cinema.

Good Grace.

This is obvious even in the subtle shift from a 16:9 aspect ratio to a more conscious 18:9 aspect ratio, like the employed on Fargo or Star Trek: Discovery. The shift in aspect ratio serves to compress the image slightly, to box it in at the top and bottom. Even on modern widescreen televisions, the audience will see bars at the top and bottom of the screen on The Woman Who Fell to Earth. This suggests cinematic storytelling, widescreen that is so wide that it cannot even be properly contained on modern television sets. Similarly, the decision to shoot the season on anamorphic lenses reinforces this sense of cinematic scale.

In some ways, this suggests what Chibnall might bring to Doctor Who as distinct from his two predecessors, a sense of place. To be fair, both Davies and Moffat had a knack for developing the locales in which stories were set, but often in terms of genre. For Davies, the Powell Estate was not so much a real-world location as a point of intersection between Doctor Who and Eastenders, a soap opera backdrop for a version of the series more rooted in character dynamics. Moffat tended to give his locations a much more abstract and metaphorical quality, focusing on what they represented more than where they were.

In a bit of a fix.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth devotes a considerable portion of its runtime to soaking in Sheffield, absorbing it through the camera lens. The establishing shots of the valley are a large part of that, but so is the emphasis on “northern steel.” This makes a certain amount of sense. Chibnall’s stories tend to be more firmly rooted in their environment than those of Davies or Moffat; consider how much the setting and surroundings of Broadchurch added to the series, or even the use of countryside in episodes like Countrycide or The Hungry Earth and Cold Blood.

That said, for all that The Woman Who Fell to Earth distinguishes itself from earlier seasons in terms of plotting and pacing, it struggles to define itself in other terms. There is a sense that Chibnall is aiming to push the series in a more populist direction, perhaps reflected by the timezone shift from Saturday nights to Sunday nights. Whether rightly or wrongly, there is a perception that Moffat’s more wry and self-aware plotting alienated casual viewers by constructing more intricate narratives. The Woman Who Fell to Earth seems to aim to get back to basics.

Reconstruction.

There is sense that Chibnall might even acknowledge this at the climax of the episode, which unfolds largely on a construction site. The Moffat era was largely defined by deconstruction of many of the core tropes of Doctor Who. To be clear, this was necessary and important process. Jodie Whittaker would not be playing the lead role had Moffat not so aggressively pushed the boundaries of what Doctor Who could do. However, the climax of The Woman Who Fell to Earth suggests that the order of the day is not deconstruction, but reconstruction.

This grounded plotting is reflected in a number of ways, with The Woman Who Fell to Earth feeling more rooted in the real and material world than either Rose or The Eleventh Hour. After all, Rose opened with a shopworker meeting an alien who blew up the high street store where she was working and The Eleventh Hour was the story of a young girl who reconnected with her long-lost imaginary friend. In contrast, The Woman Who Fell to Earth features an extended sequence set at a funeral and a companion whose cancer is in remission.

Doctor, Doctor.

This grounded aesthetic is reflected in the fact that the Doctor is not presented as a fairy tale figure, or framed in particularly mythic terms. The Woman Who Fell to Earth presents the Doctor not as a childhood imaginary friend for Ryan, but as a surrogate or reflection of Grace. The title of The Woman Who Fell to Earth mirrors Grace and the Doctor, as does the opening scene. Indeed, The Woman Who Fell to Earth even reveal that Grace first met Graham while working as a nurse, a doctor of sorts. This comparison serves to more firmly ground the Doctor relative to her predecessors.

This “back to basics” approach is reflected in the fairly stock plot, which consists of an alien arriving on Earth, killing a bunch of people, and then getting handily defeated by the Doctor. This is a stock Doctor Who plot, but is particularly common for season premieres and regeneration episodes; Spearhead from Space is an archetypal example. In terms of new series episodes, The Woman Who Fell to Earth has a plot as simple as those of RoseThe Christmas InvasionSmith and JonesPartners in Crime or The Eleventh Hour. This makes sense as a gateway episode.

Careful craning your next.

However, these sorts of stock plots are typically simplified to make room for more character development and set-up, to allow the audience the luxury of focusing on character rather than story. The actual point of the season premiere is never the monster itself, it is everything else. Unfortunately, The Woman Who Fell to Earth doesn’t quite capitalise on that opportunity in an interesting or effective way.

Chibnall’s back-to-basics approach to the Doctor applies to the characterisation of the Time Lady as much as to the plotting of the episode. While Whittaker tries to put her own unique stamp on the character, the script adopts a very broad tone in writing for the Doctor. Nevertheless, it is clear that Chibnall is hoping to evoke the spirit of the Tenth Doctor, rather than the more esoteric personalities of the Eleventh or Twelfth. It’s easy enough to imagine The Woman Who Fell to Earth as Tennant’s regeneration story, but it would be an awkward fit for Smith or Capaldi.

Lucky Thirteen. (Well, Fifteen. But who is counting?)

Chibnall’s script employs a lot of the familiar rhythms and structures of the Davies era, such as the Doctor’s tendency towards ironic and frustrated self-aware commentary. “All right, don’t like questions,” she sarcastically notes when the creature refuses to identify itself to her at the start of the story. “You’re interfering in things you don’t understand,” Tim Shaw threatens the Doctor atone point. She replies, “Everybody needs a hobby.” When he demands to know who she is, she rambingly replies, “Same question, back at you. No, actually, before that…”

Indeed, several of the character beats within The Woman Who Fell to Earth are consciously designed to evoke the archetype of the Tenth Doctor more than any other incarnation of the character. “I’m sorry you had to see this,” she apologises to the supporting characters drawn into this mess. “I’m sorry I haven’t figured any of this out yet. I’m sorry any of this is happening.” The script stops just short of having the Doctor utter the words “I’m so sorry”, but it inevitably harks back to the Tenth Doctor.

Well-suited to the task.

There is perhaps some of the Tenth Doctor in particular (and the Davies era in general) in the character’s grandstanding and moralising, most notably in her condemnation of Carl for his vanquishing of the defeated alien. It recalls the Ninth Doctor’s petty stranding of Adam Mitchell at the end of The Long Game or the Tenth Doctor’s off-handed toppling of Harriet Jones in The Christmas Invasion. Similarly, her big speeches seem more badass like the big speeches in the Davies era than subversive like the big speeches in the Moffat era.

Similarly, the emphasis on the collateral damage around the Doctor recalls the Davies era, right down to her awkward and emotional confession that she doesn’t have any family any longer. The death of Grace at the climax of the episode, while attempting to help the Doctor, recalls the sort of angsty tragedy that the Davies era played used to suggest character death; the dead bodies that the Ninth and Tenth Doctors left in their wakes. It is distinct from the more profound and reflective “duty of care” that the Eleventh and Twelfth Doctors moved towards in their own seasons.

Handling the crisis with Grace.

To be fair, this characterisation makes sense in the context of Chibnall trying to push Doctor Who back towards the cultural mainstream. It is easy to underestimate the popularity and appeal of Matt Smith, particularly in the United States, but David Tennant is the actor most closely associated with the series’ blockbuster phase in the United Kingdom. If Chibnall is consciously aiming towards the zeitgeist, it makes sense to return the character a portrayal more in keeping with Davies and Tennant’s interpretation of the Time Lord.

That said, Chibnall struggles a bit in delivering these core beats. The basic plot of The Woman Who Fell to Earth recalls the movie Predator, with an alien hunter coming to Earth in search of prey. In fact, the branding of Tim Shaw’s face with distinctive teeth could itself be read as a sly nod to the infamous “vagina dentata” of the iconic movie monster, to say nothing of the threatened detonation at the climax of the episode. This plotting decision makes a certain amount of sense, particularly if Chibnall was counting on The Predator to be a bigger hit than it become.

A construction site for sore eyes.

However, Chibnall struggles to tie the plot of the episode into his big themes. Davies and Moffat were both very, very good at ensuring that their narratives reinforced and underscored their core themes in a way that their big and profound observations on human nature generally felt like logical extensions of the story being told. Moffat’s reconceptualisation of regeneration as a metaphor for personal growth in The Time of the Doctor is a great example, but there are countless others.

In contrast, The Woman Who Fell to Earth struggles to tie the internal thematic logic of a regeneration story into its fun season premiere story about a PG-13 version of the Predator. The climax of the episode features the Doctor urging Tim Shaw to change by referencing her own transformation. “We can honour who we’ve been and choose who we want to be next,” she assures him. It is a noble sentiment, but one that doesn’t feel like it relates to the story of Tim Shaw at all.

“Well, you did want it darker, right?”

Tim Shaw has never shown any indication of changing, or of not changing. His opinion on change as an abstract concept is… unknown. It doesn’t seem like Tim Shaw has any strong feelings one way or the other. He is not even particularly tied to established traditions, to provide a contrast with the Doctor. Tim Shaw is not so blindly committed to “the old ways” that he won’t cheat at the hunt that he has been assigned. As a result, the whole sequence feels muddled and awkward.

There are similar issues in the Doctor’s other interactions with Tim Shaw. Most notably, the conversation about how he cheated on the hunt. “I think you broke the rules,” the Doctor accuses Tim Shaw, in a moment that feels like incredible hypocrisy for a character whose defining trait is her wilful violation of the rules. The Doctor is trying to recover a stolen TARDIS, after all. It seems strange that she would be such a stickler. Maybe she’s trying to get under her opponent’s skin, but she frustratedly calls him a “double-cheat” when he teleports away and can no longer hear her.

Setting the (crow)bar.

This is obviously to set up the thematic point later on where the Doctor boasts that she exists to “sort out fair play across the universe.” It’s a nice sentiment, but it awkwardly suggests that she might be fine with Tim Shaw visiting Earth and murdering innocent people if he followed the rules. To be clear, the Doctor is later outraged at the very idea of the hunt, but it seems strange that she immediately fixates on the cheating rather than the barbarity.

To be fair to Chibnall, this has always been something of a blindspot for Doctor Who, depending on the writer. The Doctor’s tolerance for acts of brutality and barbarity often seems to depend on the whims of the writer. Perhaps reflecting Mark Gatiss’ nostalgic sensibilities, the Doctor seems quite happy with the brutal and imperial Ice Warriors in Cold War or Empress of Mars. However, this feels like a very clumsy decision to make in the context of a new showrunner writing their first episode going forward.

Things got very Pulp Fiction very quickly.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth works relatively well as a piece of science-fiction horror, understanding that Doctor Who is a show that can unsettle children and can make them feel a little uncomfortable. There is a lot of horror and brutality in The Woman Who Fell to Earth, but none of it feels gratuitous and unnecessary. Again, there is a sense that Chibnall is defining himself in opposition to his direct predecessor and more in line with the first executive producer of the revived series.

Moffat attracted a lot of criticism for his tendency towards “… everybody lives!” plots, a conscious desire to avoid treating supporting characters as expendable angst-generating machines. In contrast, The Woman Who Fell to Earth makes a point to introduce a number of characters, to humanise them, and then to have them die to make the audience recoil in horror. Grace is the most obvious example, but Ramesh Sunder is also presented as a tragic figure before he is murdered and the security guard at the construction site also gets a humanising moment.

Not quite brilliant.

This surprisingly bloodthirsty storytelling for early Sunday evening. The audience doesn’t get to see exactly what happened to Ramesh, but the dialogue paints a vivid picture. “It broke his jaw open.” There’s a clear sense that Chibnall is setting out his stall and demonstrating that his version of Doctor Who will have an edge to it. This is fair. Doctor Who has always been willing and able to scare children, even if Chibnall is a bit more aggressive in employing that horror. That said, there are some tonal issues at the climax, when the Doctor’s costume reveal is played off against the very heartfelt funeral for Grace.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth largely avoids explicit political commentary in its plotting and dialogue, outside of the rather pointed reveal that the tentacled monster that drives so much of the episode was in fact harvesting information without consent in order to help Tim Shaw assume a leadership position for which he was grossly underqualified. It’s a fairly subtle riff on the whole Cambridge Analytica scandal, to the point that it might easily have snuck under the radar to most observers. This may be a conscious choice, given the possibility of Trump- and/or Brexit-fatigue among viewers.

A one-stop shop.

Still, the existence of this iteration of Doctor Who is itself a political statement of itself. There has been outrage over the casting of a female actor in the lead role, to the point that The Daily Mail‘s review of the premiere reads as incredibly petty and spiteful even for that publication. Yaz is the first full-time companion of South Asian origin. The introduction of a mixed race unconventional family unit harks back to the grounded social realism of the Davies era, but seems especially pointed in the era of xenophobic Brexit anxieties. The Woman Who Fell to Earth makes a compelling argument about what modern Britain looks like.

Indeed, there’s something very effective in the way that The Woman Who Fell to Earth consciously rejects Carl, the only prominent young white man in the guest cast, as a potential companion. On the train, Carl ducks out of the central mystery, protesting, “I just want to get to work, and forget this happened.” It’s a marker of Carl’s privilege that he can just ignore something as potentially catastrophic as this, and count on the rest of the cast to solve a problem of which he is an integral part. Carl is the kind of person who has the luxury of recusing himself from crises like the Trump era or Brexit, because it doesn’t concern him.

Never too far a Sheffield.

Carl listening to self-help tapes (“somebody out there wants me”) might be the episode’s biggest laugh, albeit one with a decidedly more cynical undertone than simple dramatic irony. Carl obviously suffers from the same self-worth issues that affect Ryan, but Carl has the luxury of an entire industry designed to cater to his own sense of self-importance. Carl seem like he might read Jordan Peterson, confidently declaring “I am important!” as he kicks an alien to what might be its death. Not for nothing is it revealed that Carl has a job at a construction company despite being singularly ill-suited due to his fear of heights. “My dad owns the company,” he explains, another example of oblivious privilege.

Of course, the climax of the episode somewhat bungles that dramatic beat. The Doctor effectively rewires Tim Shaw’s technology to ensure intense suffering by irony, feeding five explosions back into his skull using the same mechanism that he employed to cheat. It’s a satisfying story beat, with the direction and writing stressing how painful this must be. As such, Carl kicking the gigantic murderous alien off the crane really doesn’t seem like a big deal, especially given the stress that he was facing. The Doctor’s moral outrage (“you had no right to do that!”) seems a bit selfish, particularly as Carl has no frame of reference.

Don’t look back.

The Woman Who Fell to Earth is perfectly solid, if rather unexceptional. It doesn’t fail or fumble the ball too badly. It accomplishes a lot of what it sets out to do, with a minimum of fuss. This might seem like damning with faint praise, but that minimises the number of demands operating on this season premiere. Nevertheless, this cannot help but feel underwhelming given how the series has previously thrived under this sort of pressure.

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11 Responses

  1. Yep, I instantly noticed the weak dialogue just before “predator” asked ‘Who are you?’ and the answer did not thrill me as it usually did. I really hope upcoming episodes will bring back the excitement and the “clever-clever” dialogue, as this was exactly what got me hooked. It’s just never a good idea to dull a show down in the hopes of making it more popular, wasn’t the Doctor finally regenerating as a Time Lady not already pandering to the mob? I’m slightly miffed. I really want this to be good, so here we go. Crossing my fingers.

    • I mean, making the Doctor female isn’t anything that will make it more popular. It’s something that will set a certain portion of the audience on-edge and get their backs-up, and means that a certain section of the press will come for the show even more aggressively than they did during the Russell “The T. is for The Gay Agenda” Davies era. In fact, I suspect the push towards a more populist and conventional approach to the show is largely a result of the fact that the female Doctor is a big gamble. Everything else needs to be safe to buttress that gambit.

      (Can you imagine dropping a female Doctor on top of the already polarising Moffat era? It would be a sh!tshow of “Last-Jedi-ian” proportions, where people’s criticisms of the show become fodder for bandwagoning misogynists. Playing it safe and middle-of-the-road at least means that Whittaker gets a solid foundation rather than being put off-balance by swinging for the fences.)

      But, yeah, the dialogue is an issue. I pegged it earlier myself, during the train ride. It’s obvious as early as Graham talking about how Ryan won’t ever call him “granddad”, which is both incredibly clumsy character establishment and glaringly obvious foreshadowing. It also becomes more obvious in the back-and-forth between the Doctor and Yaz. Those are both moments that Davies or Moffat would have knocked out of the park, but which sound like first drafts in a Chibnall script.

  2. Will you be reviewing the whole series?

  3. I agree with your review. Overall an okay start, but I have a lot of problems with it. It falls far short of “The Eleventh Hour”.

    -The story was mediocre-a typical Doctor Who plot not executed that well.
    -I’m also not sure I’m on board with Chibnall’s approach to the drama this episode. It felt like a mediocre episode of Broadchurch with weak sci-fi elements. It fell flat. It seems like he’s aiming for an RTD approach to characterization, but it doesn’t seem like he has RTD’s skill. I’m not particularly interested in any of the characters. that, of course, could easily change.
    -Hopefully him or the other writers bring the great sci-fi in the following episodes.
    -Lastly, Whittaker hasn’t quite clicked for me as The Doctor. She’s a fantastic actress, but she didn’t get enough screen time or that one moment when The Doctor clicks into place.

    I’m not feeling pessimistic about this era yet, but I wouldn’t call it an auspicious start. I was generally entertained by it, but I have some concerns about the core elements.

    • Yep. I mean, my expectations are appreciably lower than they’ve been at any point in the run of the series. And I think the episode was about as good as I expected it to be, which is a little disappointing of itself. I did like Whittaker a bit, though. It seems like the team are consciously pushing the Doctor back towards a broader (less esoteric) approach more in line with Tennant, which is probably a good idea if the show wants to reclaim the national spotlight.

      • I’m not pessimistic about Whittaker at all. Most Doctors take a while to fully click. Capaldi certainly did, but now he’s my favorite.

        I’m more worried about Chinball’s ability more than anything else.

      • Yeah. Not necessarily Chibnall’s ability, to be honest. I’m sure he’ll be competent. (That sounds like a low bar to pass, and I’m being a little dismissive. But I feel like Chibnall might be a more efficient showrunner by any estimate than writing-machine-running-on-cigarettes-and-coffee Russell T. Davies or nobody-knows-whats-going-on-inside-his-had-but-him Steven Moffat. In terms of, I think Chibanll’s probably less likely to push himself to the edge of a nervous breakdown while getting the show made on time.)

        But, yeah, I’m less sure of his ambition or his willingness to push the show in new directions or to take big creative risks. He’s the safest possible pair of hands, which is both a good and a bad choice.

  4. What do you think of the new doctor

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