Tony Fyler
finds a lost season.
The
Eleventh Doctor had a very conspicuous style.
We
say this here because it’s only really with hindsight that it becomes apparent.
Matt Smith’s Doctor very often seemed to be a ragbag collection of mannerisms
and surprises – that was part of the appeal of him: you never quite knew what you’d be getting next.
So it comes as a shock with hindsight to get the feeling that you know,
inherently, who the Eleventh Doctor is, what’s right for him, and what’s wrong.
Happily,
it’s a positive shock in terms of Titan Comics’ first collection of Eleventh
Doctor stories, like having the Doctor pop out of a cake at your stag do, or
tumble out of your chimney on Midwinter’s Eve. There’s a stylistic familiarity
to Al Ewing and Rob Williams’ storytelling, particularly as far as the first
chapter here is concerned – it starts in shades of grey to show the life of a
forty year-old woman who cared for her mother, who lived in a rented flat, who
worked as a lowly library assistant. In the wake of her mother’s death, everything
goes wrong for Alice Obiefune. After losing her mother, she’s sacked due to
budget cuts, her landlord wants her out to turn her building into luxury flats
– Alice is not so much at the end of her rope as aware that she has plenty of
rope left, and only sadness left to propel her on with it.
Then
Bang!
There
he is, yelling out while running down the street, chasing what looks like a
Chinese dragon but happens to be a great big mood-eating dog-like creature from
outer space, and the change in Alice’s world is rendered instantly by
colourists Gary Caldwell and HiFi, who go from grey to full colour in the space
of two panels, with Alice herself remaining the only truly grey element. Subtle
stuff, this, and it works a treat.
The
Doctor and Alice chase down the big alien mood-dog, which as it turns out feasts
on negative emotions (a theme that resonates from the Tenth Doctor Collection,
Volume One) – and gets noticeably bigger after paying a quick trip to the House
of Commons during Prime Minister’s Questions. The story though doesn’t throw
Alice’s grief away – far from it. There’s a beautiful heartbreaking scene in
which the Doctor – particularly the Eleventh Doctor – does none of the things
that the Eleventh Doctor usually does. He doesn’t bounce off walls. He doesn’t
come off like the cleverest or most important life form in the room. He just
makes a cup of tea, and listens. This is an Eleventh Doctor humanized to some
degree by where he is in his timeline – he’s just left Amy and Rory, letting
them settle in to wedded bliss. But the rest of his character is very much
intact – his ‘Ta-Dah!’ moment as he introduces Alice to the Tardis is
priceless, his rejoinder to the UNIT forces about to disintegrate the great big
alien mood-dog is spot on, and his quiet talk with Alice (in the Tardis
swimming pool!) is a flash forward to the Eleventh Doctor of later years, with
Amy in The Power of Three and with Amy and Rory both in The Angels Take
Manhattan. The solution to the issue of the great big alien mood-dog has a
sweetness that Hide was trying to achieve, but it works much better here in
comic-book format, because the logic of the resolution feels less forced and
less grown up.
Chapter
two continues to strike the right Eleventh Doctor notes, even though they’re entirely
different notes – and you begin to realise again, possibly more than you did
when watching his TV episodes, how layered and varied and yet oddly coherent
Matt Smith’s portrayal really was. The story of a paradise planet turned into a
noxious amusement park and a bunch of toxic waste mines (we’re never quite sure
why anyone would actually mine toxic waste, but that’s a small niggle) has a
self-contained, Dinosaurs on a Spaceship feel, with a chunk of nastiness at the
core that even vaguely harks back to The Happiness Patrol. There’s also a hefty
dose of Eleventh Doctory Timey-Wiminess here, as we meet an adversary who’s met
the Doctor before, though we’ve not seen that encounter. The threat is credibly
built, if, when it comes down to it, rather rapidly disposed of, but the ideas
of plastic, happy, always-smiley people concealing something rotten inside is
as old as The Stepford Wives, and arguably as old as Dorian Grey. The thing
that makes this chapter unique though is the Eleventh Doctorness of the whole
thing – shooting a toy pig to win a paper target, for instance, is a
deliciously backward-thinking, oddly sense-making Eleventh Doctor thing to do.
Chapter
three is ‘the odd one’ in this collection of five interconnected chapters.
Bringing together a pop star who’s the thinnest David Bowie parody you’ve ever
seen (it actually gets quite wearing when John Jones starts singing
almost-Bowie songs, and it tips the balance at one point when Space Oddity is
rendered as a trip to the bathroom), with legendary bluesman and (naturally)
friend of the Doctor’s, Robert Johnson, the people behind the ghastly amusement
park in chapter two turn up again with a plan to recruit the Doctor – and they
briefly succeed. It takes Alice, Jones, Johnson, the power of rock and roll and
oh yes, did we mention, a regenerated Bessie to save the
Doctor this time.
Chapters
four and five are very much one two-part story, which follows the thread of the
overall arc, but takes it back in time, to show us the first meeting with that
adversary from the amusement park, and introduce us to the newest
shape-changing companion of the Doctor’s, ARC, or the Autonomous Reasoning
Center (It’s not lost on us that a set of comics based in the world of
Moffat-Who have both an arc and an ARC). They work as a proper whodunit,
allowing the Doctor to pull some proper smartest man in the room shenanigans,
as well as to have a moody strop and a moral judgment moment, before saving the
day with a gesture of simple communication.
All
of this feels very distinctly right for the Eleventh Doctor – the
five chapters have a thread running through, and the thread extends into comics
going forward. The tones and topics and artwork and colour-choices are all very
different, but they all work – the style of the Eleventh Doctor in Titan Comics is
generally crisp, concise, and detailed, whether the artwork is supplied by
Simon Fraser, as in chapters one, two and three, or by Boo Cook, as in chapters
four and five. Indeed while stylistic differences are there, it’s hard to pick a
favourite between Fraser’s work, particular in chapters one and two (look out
for a great two-page comparison of worlds with the Doctor divided between them),
and Cook’s in chapters four and five (in particular the rendering of ARC).
Coming
off the back of David Tennant’s high octane chatterbox Doctor, Smith’s
incarnation was always a surprising oddity – he could be bouncy by all means,
but he took more time, had odder reactions, said altogether odder things, had a
snappier temper, and on the whole did more in the way of quiet introspection.
It’s by no means an easy mixture to convey in the comic-book form. But both in
the artwork here, and the storytelling and dialogue by Al Ewing and Rob
Williams, there’s a real sense of delivering unseen Eleventh Doctor stories.
Indeed, with a Tardis full of new companions, each of whom is given a credible
origin story within the pages of this first collection of stories, it feels as
though we’re seeing the first half of an entirely credible unseen season of
Smith scripts brought to life.
You
know you want that, don’t you?
The
download version of this first volume of collected Eleventh Doctor stories from
Titan Comics is coming soon – significantly sooner than the hard-copy version.
The choice is yours whether you get the electronic version, the swanky proper
paper-book version, or both. But one way or another, this ‘lost season’ of
Eleventh Doctor stories belongs with you.
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