Of all the series of “Nu Who”, Series 5 is my favourite. Steven Moffat’s first run out as showrunner is his best in my opinion; he comes in with a new broom, full of fresh ideas and a new way of looking at things. Of course, he sticks to the RTD New Series Template that I’ve talked about elsewhere, but he gives it a decidedly Moffaty twist, threading his season arc all the way through, making it integral to several of the stories, before wrapping things up very neatly and cleverly. There’s no duff story in this series; even stories like The Beast Below & Victory of the Daleks are propelled along by the chemistry of the leads, while Chris Chibnall’s Silurian two parter is actually a massively character driven piece of drama that’s well worth a revisit.
One thing that Moffat did was to bring in some new writers, who are new to Who but very well known & respected in their fields. I’ve already discussed Neil Gaiman, who was originally slated to write for this series, but he also brought in Simon Nye, bst known for his sitcom work, and who’s Amy’s Choice could well have made this list on another day, and then Richard Curtis: an absolute giant in his field.
Curtis is best known for the partnerships he created first with Rowan Atkinson, creating & writing both Blackadder & Mr Bean in the 80’s & 90’s, before moving on to the romcom films Four Weddings & a Funeral and Notting Hill with Hugh Grant at the turn of the century. From Robbie the Reindeer to Bernard & The Genie (starring The Witchfinders‘ Alan Cumming) via Love Actually and the Vicar of Dibley, his body of work is enviable to most. But again, would you pick a comedy writer to write for Doctor Who?
Of course you would if you’re a comedy writer yourself, like Steven Moffat: just because you can make people laugh, doesn’t mean you can’t write sci-fi too. And if you can get someone of this calibre to write for your show, then why not? Perhaps then the only surprise here is that rather than giving us an out & out comedy, we get one of the deepest, most heartfelt stories in many a year.
You may or may not be familiar with the story of Vincent van Gogh, but if you’re not then the Inform-Educate-Entertain aspect of this story will fill you in no bother, both through the events of the episode and some wonderfully deft exposition delivered by the wonderful Bill Nighy’s museum guide. There’s a real love for van Gogh in this script, not only in the depth of the biography but in the characterisation of him as well. Curtis’ van Gogh has the soul of an artist, and he displays that beautifully through his impassioned speeches about colour and his work. You can’t help but be swept along with it. Tony Curran is excellent as Vincent, playing both sides of his character: the passion and excitement of the artist, and the torture of his depression.
It’s a brave move to explore van Gogh’s mental health as much as it is here. Even over a decade later, mental health is still much of a taboo subject, despite a lot of work being done since then to break down the barriers of open conversations. Suicide is still the biggest killer of men under 45; the more we normalise these conversations, the easier it is for people to get the help that they need. I’m not going to pretend that Vincent & The Doctor is the way to change all this, but having a show like this go out at 1900 on a Saturday evening in front of the whole family is an important step. Van Gogh’s struggles are the main story being told here; the Krafayis is just a McGuffin ultimately, and so if that side of the plot feels lightweight, then it’s because it’s just a means to an end to get our characters together & talking.
Matt Smith & Karen Gillan have an effortless chemistry; as I say, it’s one of the reasons this series is so successful. However, so do Karen Gillan & Tony Curran: their scenes together sizzle to the point you can almost hear the ginger babies in the background. As the three lie in a field, holding hands and looking at the stars, as Murray Gold’s stripped back and almost fairy like score plays, you’re again swept along and utterly enchanted.
But, of course, this isn’t real life, and van Gogh’s tragic life can’t be changed. That doesn’t mean that The Doctor and Amy don’t try, though, and so we get a final scene in the Musée d’Orsay, where Vincent learns of his legacy through Bill Nighy. It’s a scene packed with emotion, beaten only by the following one where Amy realises nothing has changed. It’s 5 minutes or so of absolute perfection: so well written (you can feel the hand of Moffat in the “pile of good things” speech), so well performed, with Curran reacting to Nighy, Nighy reacting to Curran & Gillan reacting to the situation so, so beautifully.
This story may well win it’s place on this list just through that final scene, but everything that comes before it is a delight. And for the fact that it starts a conversation that it is important for us to have with each other. It’s ok not be ok; please speak up and speak to someone if necessary. Help is out there if you need it; if you take nothing else from this story and this blog, please take that.
COMING TOMORROW: “Ahh, but you haven’t seen the quality of my footwork…!!!”
Skies Full of Diamonds 