October 7, 2024

The Woman Who Fell To Earth

On a recent anniversary of the transmission of Rose, I took the opportunity to re-run a review of it I’d written immediately after its transmission and for a long defunct site. I think, on the whole, I got it right all those years ago, and the review stands up pretty well. (Hit the link above to see if you agree.) In a similar spirit, this is the sixth anniversary of the transmission of The Woman Who Fell To Earth, and here’s the review of that I wrote immediately after its transmission. As with the Rose piece I’ve changed nothing, only done a light copy edit. The Woman Who Fell To Earth is also one of only four Doctor Who episodes to be the #1 programme for the week so, because I like starting sub-series within series, consider this the first part of a new one, where we’ll look at little bit of each of those in turn.

“You’re my number one” - Part One

The simultaneous debut of new Doctor Jodie Whittaker and new showrunner Chris Chibnall in The Woman Who Fell To Earth constitutes the second big shift in twenty first century Doctor Who, following 2010’s The Eleventh Hour, which saw the Doctor Matt Smith and executive producer and head writer Steven Moffat succeed David Tennant and Russell T Davies respectively.

The post 2005 version of the series is a flagship series, a tent pole for BBC One, in an way twentieth century Doctor Who never really was; and now as in 2010 there’s a lot riding on the programme being able to renew its popularity and creativity between seasons through a change of behind the scenes personnel.

This is the logic behind the recruiting of the showrunner of (and ultimately his recruiting of a star from) ITV’s Broadchurch, one of a handful of drama series other than Doctor Who to feature in the top ten television programmes of the year in the last decade (Call The Midwife, Sherlock, Downton Abbey are the others).

You do have to wonder how people who felt that Moffat’s version of Doctor Who was too dark, and who were expecting (not unfairly based on trailers, timeslot and some public declarations of intent) a lighter and cheerier version of the programme, are going to square expectations with what was transmitted last night. Because what we have here is a version of Doctor Who that closely resembles what even an inattentive viewer my might expect “From the creator of Broadchurch”. That was, if you don’t know, a late evening police procedural concerning the impact of, and investigation into, child murder in a coastal community.

Chris Chibnall’s Doctor Who, at least this week, is dour, cold and even stately; grounded in something enough like the real world to make the SF and fantasy elements, which themselves are treated grimly¹ seem invasive rather than escapist. There’s a difference between being blasted by a Dalek in outer space, and a one scene character letting us know he’s loving and is loved, before being slaughtered, or a middle aged woman falling to her death from a crane in rainy Sheffield, dying on wet tarmac, wincing in pain.

Because, while the billings for series have indicated the series is “for all the family” that isn’t the show we have here. What we have is something almost entirely set at night, and littered with moments of genuine sadism that are at times as off putting as they are shocking, and far more so than anything in Doctor Who since 1985. 

There’s little humour, whimsy or joy in this version of Doctor Who, and that which is there seems minimised in the edit by the episode’s expansive shooting style, slow cutting and exceptionally limited colour palette. Only in the extreme simplicity of the storyline does there seem to be any concession at all to Doctor Who’s youngest viewers - many of whom will have been watching at 18:45. 

Often this could have been, except for the pace and lack of swearing, an episode of Torchwood, the late night ostensibly “adult oriented” Doctor Who spin of which Chibnall executive produced two series in 2006 and 2008. Those who found Davies’ Doctor Who frantic and overly bright have found its stylistic antonym. Those who thought Moffat’s Who overly complicated in plot terms and too quick to reach for punchlines have the opportunity to see its storytelling opposite. 

Which is to say, Chris Chibnall clearly has a very strong idea of what his Doctor Who is like, one as much influenced by his own creativity and interests as any previous version of the show, including the two most recent. Which is entirely right. Chris Chibnall was hired to make Chris Chibnall’s Doctor Who, and that is what we have here.

(It’s also a version of Doctor Who that, judging by its debts to The X Files, Predator and perhaps Buffy the Vampire Slayer is one that’s been brewing in his head for a very long time.)

Of course, it might be reading too much into a single episode to say that this is what Chibnall’s Doctor Who is always going to be like, but you would expect that complete creative control of a long running series convening which you have long harboured ambitions would lead to a showrunner setting out their stall at the first opportunity.

It’s certainly what Moffat, Davies and even twentieth century figures like Philip Segal, John Nathan-Turner did. It’s what everyone I know who works in television and harbours ambitions towards Doctor Who would do. You only get one chance to make a first impression, after all.

So, that’s Chibnall. What about his cast? Well, where Jodie Whittaker’s Doctor really shines is in moments like the montage to make a sonic screwdriver (“more Swiss Army knife”), the costume change sequence and the discursive asides (“cos we’re friends now”). Her performance never blinks at the idea she is the Doctor (even when the character is amnesiac) and as a consequence neither do we. Her best bits are where she imbues her Doctor with a kind of distracted intensity reminiscent of Christopher Eccleston at his most manic. Such as when she’s trying to extemporise a new sonic screwdriver in a Sheffield lock up.

It’s an assured debut performance, banishing her predecessors as effectively as any of them banished each other, and demonstrating the wisdom of her casting. But it is so perhaps in spite of what is going on around her. Not because of it. There are plenty of odd editing and framing choices which at times prevent her from being, literally and figuratively, the centre of her own show in the way she deserves. At times it’s tempting to wonder if this episode’s obviously expensive (and beautifully lit) night shoot was curtailed, interrupted or didn’t go to plan.  

Of the companions, Bradley Walsh’s Graham and his wife Grace (Sharon D Clarke) earth the series, providing what warmth the programme has, with their well-worn loving bickering, practicality and compassion. Grace’s grandson Ryan is played by Tosin Cole, who gives a fine, detailed sensitive performance as a quick and instinctive young man valiantly trying, and succeeding, in doing things his dyspraxia makes difficult for him. The pick of the bunch is Yazmin Khan, wryly and subtly played by Mandip Gill, a northern, working class police officer who draws every scene she’s in towards her in a way that looks effortless, but almost certainly isn’t.  

The five of them make a nice unit, or would it Grace hadn’t been the one to die in that fall, a textbook “fridging” - the screenwriting cliche of killing of a female character purely to motivate male ones, something that has rightly increasingly drawn censure when used in film and television, and which is is particularly disappointing to see at this particular stage in Doctor Who’s development. It’s to be hoped that this plot element is something that will be later subverted or has more to run. It certainly needs something more than it gets here.

That’s certainly possible. The entire episode, which eschewed opening credits entirely, is effectively one giant pre-credits sequence with its own cliffhanger-into-the-titles ending. A cold open for the entire series. This was a smart innovation, and one frankly more likely to ensure a lot of the audience return to the series next week than anything, casting aside, specific from the episode itself.