Last night, after…gosh, what, a couple of years of putting it off? I finally watched the last few David Tennant episodes of Doctor Who.
Part of me has just been too darned busy to catch up with every series on the planet…and part of me has just been reluctant to see Tennant go. I watched more Star Trek TNG than Dr. Who during the Baker era, so I didn’t fall in love with the series until the Eccleston re-invisioning. But I didn’t fall in love with a Doctor until Tennant. He had me at the “Who am I?” monologue. (“Ooh, that was rude. Is that who I am now? Am I rude?)
You could say it was love at first sight.
Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth and saying I don’t have any faith in Matt Smith. I think he’ll do just fine. (And after watching the first episode of his so far, he has.) I have ULTIMATE faith in Stephen Moffat. I expect amazing things from him, and I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.
What I was disappointed in, however, was Davies’s long, drawn-out, melodramatic, HORRIBLE ending of Tennant’s Doctor.It was worse than the ten separate endings of Return of the King (which I actually don’t mind so much). I was so ready for the excruciating thing to be over that I didn’t even shed a tear when he departed this world — and I bawled my eyes out at the last two season enders, despite the fact that I don’t believe Tennant & Piper had the same chemistry as Piper & Eccleston. It was depressing on top of depressing that he had to do it all alone, and I HATED his last line. Hated it. It was sad and pathetic after all the previous “Touched By an Angel”-esque unabashed emotion-bashing.
It would have been the perfect line had Tennant gone out with a bang, as he should have. As he deserved to.
And I have no idea what sort of spaghetti mish-mash Davies was trying to pull with the plot. The Fairy GodBoyfriend, a long-time Whovian with a Seal of Rassilon tattoo, made me watch “The Five Doctors” this morning in an effort to explain exactly who Rassilon was and why he would have never been president of Gallifrey.And we’re not even going to talk about the scientific stupidity of having a planet three times the size of Earth magically show up at our front door. Even I remember enough physics to laugh openly and yell at the screen.
So yes, I went to bed sad last night. They never should have done the year of special episodes (barring the appearance of the awesome Lady Christina de Souza, of whom I desire an action figure, if one exists). I want to punch Davies in the nose. Or at least apologize to Tennant. It was a shame.
But the Doctor lives on, as he does, and in good hands. And thank goodness.