Bad Wolf is pretty much my ideal for a season arc.

I love the pure, simple concept of Bad Wolf. I love that it’s such a keenly visual motif, and that it’s become such a recognisable meme through the fandom and far beyond. I love the elegant ontological paradox it contains: the way Rose in her god form is calling to herself before she even knows what’s happening. I love the romanticism of it: someone risking their life to become a god and save the person they love.

The words are commonplace yet alien: they sound like a child story-book; they’re expressed in unglamorous graffiti; yet they echo with an amorphous fairytale menace. The elemental contrast between Rose and Bad Wolf is stunning: the Earthling and the universal force, the shop girl who likes chips and the goddess made of gold and fire and the fabric of time.

Bad Wolf signifies the potential of Rose the ordinary woman: she has no idea what she will become. And she creates Bad Wolf through her ferocious determination and her love for the Doctor. “I want you safe, my Doctor”: she becomes his cosmic protector. She brings closure to the Time War, ending it with an act of life to counterpoise its terrible destruction.

Rose as Bad Wolf doesn’t just save the Doctor in The Parting of the Ways, she also sets up Bad Wolf’s ongoing relationship with the Doctor. In light of the tragedy of Rose and the Doctor’s love story (the original Doctor, that is), it’s a stunningly beautiful thing to imagine that even if he’s lost forever, a universe away from the one he loves, that she has scattered an echo of herself through that whole universe and every universe, as his cosmic protector and guardian.

There’s an eerie echo of this in Tooth and Claw: the Doctor is trapped in a room, while a wolf roams outside, trying to get in to him. It’s a beautiful and bittersweet foreshadowing of Doomsday. And the Doctor’s Big Bad Wolf eventually does find him. My inner romantic likes to think that she’ll always be out there, haunting him, ready to drop those two words in his ear when the time is right and he needs her most.

The wonderful thing about writing about hope in a show like Doctor Who is that it never feels cheesy or sentimental. I could probably write ten thousand words on this topic - there are countless examples of this theme; it weaves itself through the whole show in so many ways and forms. But I'll focus on what makes this theme unique in New Who. It ties in with something I absolutely love to talk about: the symbiotic relationship between the Doctor and the human race. New Who really establishes the Doctor's inter-reliance with humanity, and how they trade hope as an essential element for survival. Both give it to the other, both need it, both at times lose it and need help to find it again.

The Moment: [The sound of the TARDIS] brings hope wherever it goes.

One of the greatest things the Doctor does is spreading hope. Sometimes giving people hope and a sense of worth is more important than saving planets and defeating monsters. The Doctor gives hope to people in many ways. With his companions, he catalyses their personal potential - they become so much stronger and greater than they thought possible, because he gives them the freedom and opportunity to do so. He brings a sense of optimism by opening people's minds to a larger reality, beyond the confines of their city or planet or even their galaxy. The Doctor thinks big, and through the whole wide universe that he travels, he sees hope. That's the magical thing about him. And he conveys that hope to people by giving them a glimpse of the wide, vast, joyous universe out there, just waiting to be explored.

The Doctor: My experience is that, surprisingly, there is always hope.

Sometimes giving a person hope is as simple as showing them that their life matters. One of my favourite examples of this is Vincent and the Doctor. It's an exquisite, moving, and deeply human episode that deserves all the praise it gets and more. The story of the episode can be summed up in one small sentence: The Doctor meets someone and gives them hope. And the beauty and tragedy of Vincent and the Doctor is that giving Vincent hope isn't the same as saving his life. His death is fixed in time. But the Doctor and Amy give Vincent something more important: the knowledge that he's a valued person. That he mattered in history. Did it matter that Vincent had one magical, joyous day, when he still took his life in the end? Of course it did. It meant everything.

Cyberman: You are proof.
The Doctor: Of what?
Cyberman: That emotions destroy you.
The Doctor: Yeah, I am. Mind you, I quite like hope. Hope's a good emotion. And here it comes.

If the Doctor hopes in anything - has faith and confidence in anyone - it's the human race. He's travelled the universe, yet there's something about human beings that inspires him - gives him something to live for - gives him hope. The Tenth Doctor in particular is very vocal in his admiration for the human race in general. The human race gives the Doctor hope that there's some good in the world. The Doctor is, on one level, a lost and rather norm-less being; he needs something to believe in; and the human race inspires him not only individually but also collectively, by their persistence in living and evolving, and through the abstract ideals that they exemplify: resilience, adventurousness, compassion, and courage.

The Doctor: ...there's no one else.
Rose: There's me. 

Of course, it's through his personal relationships with humans that the Doctor finds hope at its most tangible. His companions have saved him "so many times and in so many ways" - not only physically, but more importantly, emotionally, by keeping his loneliness at bay, giving him courage in his darkest moments, and enabling him to be the best of himself.

The greatest example here has to be Rose. Her compassion and impulsive love for a damaged and traumatised Ninth Doctor utterly transfigured him (that can be a regeneration joke, if you like). Her stubborn loyalty and her belief in him enabled him to forgive himself for his actions at the end of the Time War, and to begin to move on. The Tenth Doctor is only so joyous and optimistic because of Rose's transforming influence. When we first meet the New Who Doctor, he has very little hope. He's worn down, defeated, angry and scarred, and struggling to avoid letting his dark side get the better of him. As Season 1 goes on we see Nine gather strength and lose that despair that so obviously weighed him down. It's no wonder he loves Rose so completely - in Rose he fell in love again with humanity and with all that it symbolises for him. That's the hope that the Ninth Doctor so desperately needed, and that Rose gave him so beautifully.

There's so much more to say. Of course, human beings give hope to each other. Sometimes their hope collides with darker themes, as in Love and Monsters, where LINDA's hope in the Doctor is cruelly exploited. But more often it works out. There are so many colours of this theme to explore, but I particularly enjoy it when it's part of that mutually dependent relationship between the Doctor and the human race. He's not an untouchable alien who just pops down from outer space and solves all Earth's problems. He depends on human beings too. The Doctor inspires us to dream bigger; we remind him what he's fighting for.

 

Ah, Donna Noble. Donna is my darling. I was initially going to write on the Tenth Doctor for today's Favourite Character, but although I adore Ten and find his character interesting particularly on an intellectual level, I'm going to save him for Favourite Arc, I think. And I don't write enough about Donna, because she is fabulous. She was the first companion I really related to on a personal level, and she'll always be my favourite, I think. She really is magnificent.

When we first meet Donna in The Runaway Bride, she's less than likeable. She's self-absorbed, shallow, and constantly yelling. Although it's obvious her abrasiveness comes from personal pain and disappointment, she doesn't immediately steal one's heart as a viewer. It takes a while for her to settle in to her new life as a time traveler, but as she does, we begin to see the person she's capable of being. The person she's always wanted to become, but never knew quite how.

Donna is very different from the previous companions. She's older. She already has a career of sorts. She's fabulously curvy, not fashionably skinny. She's not looking for a coming-of-age story with the Doctor, since she's already done all that. Donna knows her place in the world, and that's the problem. She's profoundly unhappy and dissatisfied with her life, and dimly aware that she's not living up to her potential. When she goes looking for the Doctor, it's because she wants to start over - to have a shot at living a life where she's happy and fulfilled.

Beneath her shouty exterior, Donna is a profoundly compassionate and empathetic person. The only person to date to call an Ood "sweetheart", she's always looking out for those who get neglected or trodden underfoot, precisely because she knows so well what it's like to feel worthless and invisible. For someone who struggles so much with her own feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, she excels in making other people feel valued. She also instinctively forms solidarity with other women and goes out of her way to befriend them. She's never jealous of Rose - wouldn't dream of having a catfight with Martha - makes the Doctor see his bond with Jenny - has a chat with Agatha Christie about unfortunate exes - listens to Miss Evangelista when no one else will.

Donna and the Doctor have so much fun together. They're the galaxy's greatest screwball couple - except not a couple, thank you very much. David Tennant and Catherine Tate have fabulous chemistry - they remind me a bit of Grant and Hepburn - and their characters are bonkers in exactly the right ways for each other. Donna's never daunted by the Doctor - she's always viewed him as an equal - and they truly are best friends. They're platonic soul mates, and their eventual merge as the DoctorDonna is a beautiful symbol of their closeness.

One of the loveliest things about watching Donna evolve over Season 4 is seeing her develop self-esteem. And that happens in slow, realistic steps. She's never quite able to describe herself as a worthwhile person, but she will say she's the best temp in Chiswick. A super-temp. She soaks up all those wonderful experiences, and the Doctor's constant verbal affirmation (something she desperately needs), and slowly but surely comes into herself.

Donna's demise is wrenchingly tragic. I avoid watching the end of Journey's End for that very reason. It's a fate worse than death, really - utterly brutal - and as much as I admire Russell T Davies' writing in general, a part of me will never forgive him for ending Donna's story in such a heartbreaking fashion. Donna loses her memories - the best part of her life - but does she retain any of the confidence and self-esteem she gained? The story isn't clear. I desperately hope she does.

It's Day 1 of the Celebrating New Who Countdown Challenge, started by this great Tumblr blog, and I'm thrilled to be taking part. In just a week it will be ten whole years since the revived Doctor Who first aired on British TV. How much has happened since then! and how many new fans of the show (me included) have been made! It's the perfect time for me to spend a week talking about how much I love this show and how much it means to me artistically and personally. Woop!
The theme for today's challenge is "Favourite Season", so here I go. 

It's tough for me to choose which NuWho season is my favourite, but I have to go with Season 4. NuWho almost has a tradition of having one clunker episode per season, but in Season 4 the episode quality is consistently good, and often outstanding. And Donna Noble. Need I say more? It was a bit of a risk to pair the Tenth Doctor with a companion who's even more bonkers than he is, but it pays off. Donna is a main female character who's over 25 years of age - something you don't see all the time - and she's not at all overawed by the Doctor. Tennant and Tate's comic (and dramatic) chemistry is second to none, and since it was high time to have a Doctor-companion relationship with no romantic feelings in the mix, it's a refreshingly new dynamic. Everything works. Plus, there's the heart-stopping teasers of Rose's return. The strands of fate drawing together toward the DoctorDonna. The exploration of the darker side of human nature. The return of my favourite NuWho creatures, the Ood, and a great treatment of classic Who monsters, the Sontarans. There's so much to love about Season 4. Here's a few thoughts on each episode.


Partners in Crime: It's not the strongest opening episode in NuWho history, but Tennant and Tate get some great scenes to establish their outrageous, screwball comedy dynamic. And the Adipose are pretty damn cute too.

The Fires of Pompeii: A brilliant historical episode combined with big ethical decisions. The Doctor and Donna's choice of whether to change history is a reminder of the Doctor's destruction of Gallifrey and also a foreshadowing of his coming dilemma on Mars.

Planet of the Ood: A personal favourite of mine, and an unusual episode in that the human beings (not the scary-looking Ood, a design triumph) are the actual monsters here. The morality is extremely clear, and the Doctor's in top form as an ethical crusader, but the episode's none the worse for that. And the musical score still brings tears to my eyes after multiple re-watches.

The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky: A fantastic Classic Who villain race are resurrected here, and it's done brilliantly. They really do look like potatoes. We have two companions in the TARDIS, and Martha Jones has come into her own, as the Doctor's relationship with the military and violence is explored.

The Doctor's Daughter: The presence of not two but three dynamic companions (we count Jenny, don't we?) smooths over some of the weaknesses of the story. A well-paced episode with some imaginative touches. Drives home, again, the foreboding message that the Doctor loses everyone he loves in the end.

The Unicorn and the Wasp: Historical episodes can be tough but this is extremely entertaining, with brilliant guest writing and the Doctor-Donna dynamics at their funniest and most screwball.

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead: An enjoyably mind-bending two-parter. The amorphous Vashta Nerada are an exciting new villain, and River Song is a tantalising and well-acted new character at her strongest. "Yes, she's dead. Help her" is one of my favourite lines and a reminder of the Doctor's alien-ness.

Midnight: an episode Russell T Davies wrote in 48 hours and nearly scrapped. Thank goodness he didn't - it's one of his most unusual and striking episodes, and Who psychological horror at its finest ("bananas-creepy", as David Tennant called it). Notable for the outstanding ensemble cast, and for the lack of special effects or visible monsters. Touches again on the theme of humans as monsters, as we see for the first time the Doctor at the mercy of the worst of humanity. Chilling and outstanding.

Turn Left: A companion-centred episode that works. Explores the tantalising question "what would the universe be like without the Doctor?". Donna and Rose continue the RTD-era theme of ordinary people stepping up and filling the Doctor's place in his absence.

The Stolen Earth/Journey's End: A huge, spectacular finale where so much happens. Rose returns and leaves again with-and-not-with the Doctor. Donna meets her gutwrenching end (of which I usually don't speak...). The Daleks. My favourite DW villain, Davros, is resurrected from the Classic series with great respect - he's a chilling and commanding character, and his psychological games with the Doctor are gripping. All the companions of the RTD era come into their own as Doctors in their own right. And on a melancholy final note, the Doctor is left alone, ready to descend into hubristic madness in the 2009 specials.

Season 4 has so much going for it. It's a steady descent into darkness for the Doctor himself, but it manages to keep the gloom balanced with humour and enough action-romp episodes that it doesn't take itself overly seriously. Catherine Tate drew more depth out of the insecure, abrasive, courageous Donna than anyone expected, and the scripts were carefully sequenced and well-realised. I remember Season 4 as the season where Doctor Who really started to grip me. I'd been relatively engaged through my binge-watch of the previous seasons, but I remember chewing my nails through The Stolen Earth and suddenly realising how much I had begun to love this show. And the more I watch Doctor Who, the more I love it. That's not something you can say about every TV show that comes around.