The Doctor and Martha fuel-up rift-side in Cardiff. Last visit, he was “a different man” (oh, Nine!). Say, who’s that sexy beast of a man, sprinting and yelling “Doctor!”? HI, CAPTAIN JACK! In an epic blow-off, the Doctor starts the TARDIS, miscalculating how far Jack will go to avoid his shady brush-off. I’m talking end of the universe far! Continue reading
Tag Archives: The Doctor
Late at night, a woman breaks into an abandoned mansion to photograph it. Then she leaves for home and a nice hot cup of chamomile, musing on decay and the sublime. Ahaha, NO. Eerie silence + Gothic setting = BEWARE THE WEEPING ANGELS written under peeling wallpaper! It spells trouble with a capital “T”! By which I mean a warning from Ten (though River City’s pool table, still a cause for grave concern). Continue reading
What do you do if you’re held at gunpoint, knowing the man you love must choose to save either you or the woman he loves? Well, if you’re Martha Jones, you turn ALL THE TABLES, snatch one villain’s gun to aim it at another baddie, and let the woman who’s a jerkwad to you run to the man you love. Also? You save EVERYONE. Martha Jones, ladies and gentlemen! *applauds wildly* Continue reading
The Doctor and Martha narrowly escape villains chasing them with stolen Time Agent technology. “They’re never going to stop,” following him. “Unless…” “Do you trust me?” the Doctor asks Martha urgently, adding, “Because it all depends on you.” PRESSURE MUCH? There’s this watch, see, and —
The Doctor wakes in an old-fashioned bedroom. Martha enters in maid’s garb (what?). She apologizes for entering precipitously, calling him John Smith (what what?). No worries: he’s just had another extraordinary dream, in which he’s the “daredevil” “madman”, the Doctor. This time, in 2007, Martha was his companion. What d’ye talk, Martha scoffs: it’s 1913, and he’s as human as they come (what what WHAT?)!
Doctor, I love you! But we only have fourteen minutes to save the Earth! Well, forty-two minutes, actually. Hence the title. And we’re not saving the Earth so much as a cargo ship and its sweaty cranky crew members from crashing into a sun. STILL! Continue reading
The Doctor makes a perfect landing in a tight spot. “You should be used to tight spots by now,” says Martha and oh. Oh ho! Sure, Doctor Who‘s totally a children’s show. Right. Wait, they’re back twelve hours after she left. “But all the stuff we’ve done! Shakespeare, New New York, old New York?” Martha asks. That, my friends, is without a doubt the most jam-packed one-night stand of which I’ve heard tell!
And no, I’m not going to stop with the wink-nudge jokes, because there THESE WRITE THEMSELVES with material the ep hands over on a sexy, saucy platter! Just watch! Continue reading
The Doctor plays himself in with “Happy Days Are Here Again”, calling, “Hello. Surprise. Boo. Etcetera.” Aww, when did the magic go out of these Time Lord/Dalek reunions, Doctor? Sec now “feels humanity”, but it’s all bad: he calls humans “so very Dalek” for their hatred and “genius for war.” Fuming, the Doctor pumps up the volume: the radio’s feedback hurts the Daleks, Pigmen, and vulnerable Sec. As the Daleks shriek, “Protect!” and surround their hybrid, the Doctor leads the escape of the captured humans. Continue reading
Backstage at a musical revue, sassy chorus girls yell to Tallulah to quit pawing at her stagehand boyfriend so they can All That Jazz the audience. Tallulah’s a gangster-moll-accent ditz with heart. Laszlo wants to bring her home for Sunday dinner, and gives her white roses. Clearly he wants to rescue her from her hardscrabble burlesque life for a Somewhere That’s Green place in Jersey. So. Laszlo’s pretty much marked for death. Continue reading
A couple straight out of Grant Wood’s American Gothic drives their van, watching a cheery video traffic report about carjackings. Where are they, Detroit? When something claws at their vehicle, Ma yells at Pa; he lied about having three passengers. Pa’s frantic calls to the police only reach a recording; they’re placed on hold. Screaming, sparks, and smoke fill the van. “Missing you already,” the traffic reporter signs off.
In Ye Olde England (shh, it’s an historical term), a young swain serenades his love, Lilith. She invites him upstairs; time to get lucky without those pesky baans of marriage, awww forsooooth! But once he’s upstairs, wouldn’t you know she turns into a sharp-toothed hag with two crones for moms? The crones set on the poor guy, and icky sounds follow. The Loathsome Ladies vow to make Earth perish with “woven words” and cackle madly.