Talk about a tease. Parting of the Ways - at last, the new Doctor revealed! …for twenty seconds and a joke about teeth. Children In Need - at last, the new Doctor revealed! …for seven minutes and a lot of guff about hopping. The Christmas Invasion - at last, the new, no, hang on, he's still asleep, come back after three more months and a joke about the Lion King. Compared to this, those sixteen years post-McCoy went by in a flash.
I'll be honest, I was worried. Despite the wonders Russell T Davies has pulled in the past, surely all these peeks and glimpses would steal the thunder from the new series? David Tennant's already done the chat-show circuit back in December, so where's the big first episode ratings-boost from strangers wanting to know what the new guy's like? What's gonna make this feel like a big bold beginning instead of just another adventure? How can we be sure people will watch?
Well, shows how much I know. People watch it just 'cos it's Doctor Who, these days. And the most extraordinary thing about this episode – this in-itself very ordinary, 'just another' adventure – is exactly that there is no thunder to be stolen, at least on the new actor front. It's all jolly exciting, thrilling, action-adventure stuff: an alien world, an alien race, a lot of huggermugger sculduggery; things being plotted, stuff blowing up, the usual suspects – and there, you suddenly notice, in the middle of it, like he's been there all along, is the Doctor, having an adventure. No grand fanfare, no finally the new Doctor revealed!, just a sudden, subtle realisation that you've got used to him without even trying. Which of course was the whole point of all that teasing, and of all the thrills and spills and special effects around him. A mad, months-long conjuring trick filled with effusive patter and a great big cgi bucket of misdirection, all to slip that one bit of sleight-of-hand past you: that it's not the same guy.
The upside of this is that we get an absolute zinger of an episode, all-out belly laughs mixed with zips of fear and zaps of danger; comic turns with epic set-pieces; running for your life with running gags. The central gimmick of the story is something of a standard sci-fi trope, an excuse for a good old romp for the regulars, but combined with enough of a story to hold keep its momentum. The effects are ambitious and effective, turning a revolting day in Cardiff into a reasonable one on another planet; a series of attractive women into a matching set of attractive cats, and a large collection of extras into a particularly nasty bunch of Nasties of the Week. The performances are as usual fine throughout, with Billie Piper even more than usually superb as she's asked to pull off all the funniest lines without forgetting she's also carrying the plot, and managing both with aplomb. Even the music – if you can persuade the surround-sound not to bleach out the dialogue – is feisty, fun and exhilarating, with an Austin Powersesque action sequence taking the award for most daringly silly and enjoyable theme so far.
The downside, of course, is that a plot designed to be fluffily distracting does tend to be a bit, well, fluffy. And distracting. Gimmicks, effects, cats, and nasties add up to a bit of a noisy mess at times, all sound and fury signifying that the scriptwriter doesn't want you to pay too much attention to the details. Last year's lesson proves true once more, that if Russell T's scripts have a problem, it can be summed up in two words: "plot convenience." Never mind the fiddly explanations, just hit the button on the wall next to you! Never mind the logic, just do what's cool! Never mind the plot holes, just run for your life!
There's no denying that this story, fast-paced and full of explosions as it is, does lack a little coherence as it zips from one subplot to another, glossing over exactly who's doing what, for what, for why; how the solutions are reached, by whom, or when, or, bluntly, why the hell they'd work. "Who Cares if Doc is Drivel?" crowed the Mirror the next day, praising the show for being lovable despite its manifold, viciously-listed flaws, in surely the most backhandedly positive review ever published. Others were still less kind, pouring scorn on the oddly-paced, elongated ending (a trademark of Russell's scripts) and of the attempt to get the audience feeling joy at an uplifting ending (a trademark, rather too obviously, of Stephen Moffat's, where it works considerably better coming after two episodes of gritty, terrifying danger than it does here following nine minutes of what the BBFC witheringly refers to as 'mild peril'). Partly due its flaws, and partly to its impossible expectations, New Earth was always going to have trouble. And indeed, the initial feeling from audiences seems to be a less than startled 'oh right'.
We knew this would happen, of course. Last year Doctor Who was being compared to what people remembered of its death in the 80s: wobbling, cardboard, light-ent tripe, barely watchable even as a child – which much of it wasn't, but that's what sticks in the mind. This time round it's being compared to what they remember of last year, and just as unfairly: always the sheer, unparalleled brilliance of The Doctor Dances, of Dalek, of Father's Day , rather than the just-another adventures of The Long Game or Boom Town. Put this next to Rose , last year's season-opener, and there's simply no comparison – New Earth is quite, quite brilliant. But quite-brilliance isn't enough when people are comparing the new series (and we knew they would, we really knew it and were braced for it and still it's not enough) to only the very finest, utterly brilliant moments of Season One.
But you know what? I'm not going to write an apologetic review, because this story doesn't need one. There are flaws, but there are few. The opening seems somewhat stretched, with Rose uncharacteristically cloying in her admiration for the Doctor and their adventures (which unfortunately comes across as a sort of smug self-satisfaction with the series itself). The ending tries to crowbar the audience in a direction they're not emotionally ready to go; two crucial story elements not quite dovetailing together well enough to form a common theme. Arguably, where Eccleston had unplumbed depths of angst and fury, Tennant has pulling his lips back over his teeth. And the plot doesn't actually make sense. But that's it.
I watched this on Saturday, adult and analytical, and fretted madly about all those things. And then I watched it on Sunday with six shrieking and manically enthusiastic eight-year-olds, who'd been drinking coke for five hours straight and bouncing off the walls at an all-day party, suddenly silent and transfixed except for blurts of "Eww!" and "Woah!" and "This next bit's brilliant!" and "Shut up, I want to hear!", and realised it didn't matter. Whatever impossible, child-engrossing, attention-grabbing, silence-summoning magic Russell T conjured up with Christopher Eccleston (who?), he hasn't lost it now.
Logic is for wusses and grown-ups. This episode is fun. Just as fun as last year; just as funny; just as scary; just as silly; just as great. Just another adventure. Just enjoy.
(And next week - at last, the new Doctor, revealed!)