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I've been catching up on some Doctor Who and therefore you get ramblings about Doctor Who. Expect minor spoilers for the Series 4 specials and for Series 5.
The Eleventh Doctor has yet to win me over. I didn't let this bother me at the beginning of Series 5, because it takes me a while to accept change—I remember when the Tenth Doctor was a bit meh, because I was so attached to the Ninth; I figured I'd transition eventually. But now I'm nearing the end of Series 5 and—it's not that I dislike Matt Smith, actually I think he's quite adorable; I adore Gillan and her role as Amy Pond, she's fantastic. But Ten's life ended with such regret and doubt—about his role as The Doctor, about the danger he poses to a companion, about the fate of his people and even him—and then Eleven waltzed (flailed) in and everything was funny again and he had a companion and wheeeee new adventures. And those adventures, well, they haven't been awesome: my doubts about River Song continue and while the big bad is promising the monsters of the week have been a bit unmemorable (except for the reprise of the Weeping Angels which felt like just that: a reprise). But really what bothers me is the lack of ... continuity, closure: yes I get that regeneration is not unlike rebirth, his personality, his emotions all are different now—but it's not like he had a fucking brain wipe: there's a lot of angst that was just dropped or near enough. The transition is unconvincing, and so Eleven is too, and that's a pity.
And for all that—and maybe you wouldn't expect it, but—I rather liked Vincent and the Doctor. All possible criticisms of the episode are probably true: it's often maudlin and it adds little to the overarching story and the monster of the week is pasted on, yes. It digs a little into the fallacy of magical madmen, which is problematic and a touch ironic in an episode about ~understanding~ depression. Nonetheless, how rare is it to see a depiction of mental illness in which an inability to cope isn't the result of being weak, or not getting help, or not having the right attitude? How rare is it to see suicide explored with sympathy and respect? It's isn't even a story about how sometimes there's nothing we can do; it's about what can be done, and about how it can still matter even if it doesn't solve anything.
I say "and maybe you wouldn't expect it" because not unlike cats, mental illness/depression is a topic so close to my heart that against expectations, I generally hate fictional representations of it. Hell, I even hate commercials for depression medication (which ain't far from a fictional representation, let's be honest). Not only do I recognize when it's portrayed poorly or inaccurately, it often is—and the constant failure is worse than silence would be.
But perhaps all that practice with shitty representations has taught me to overlook some failings when there's good reason to—and that episode was reason enough, for me.
The Eleventh Doctor has yet to win me over. I didn't let this bother me at the beginning of Series 5, because it takes me a while to accept change—I remember when the Tenth Doctor was a bit meh, because I was so attached to the Ninth; I figured I'd transition eventually. But now I'm nearing the end of Series 5 and—it's not that I dislike Matt Smith, actually I think he's quite adorable; I adore Gillan and her role as Amy Pond, she's fantastic. But Ten's life ended with such regret and doubt—about his role as The Doctor, about the danger he poses to a companion, about the fate of his people and even him—and then Eleven waltzed (flailed) in and everything was funny again and he had a companion and wheeeee new adventures. And those adventures, well, they haven't been awesome: my doubts about River Song continue and while the big bad is promising the monsters of the week have been a bit unmemorable (except for the reprise of the Weeping Angels which felt like just that: a reprise). But really what bothers me is the lack of ... continuity, closure: yes I get that regeneration is not unlike rebirth, his personality, his emotions all are different now—but it's not like he had a fucking brain wipe: there's a lot of angst that was just dropped or near enough. The transition is unconvincing, and so Eleven is too, and that's a pity.
And for all that—and maybe you wouldn't expect it, but—I rather liked Vincent and the Doctor. All possible criticisms of the episode are probably true: it's often maudlin and it adds little to the overarching story and the monster of the week is pasted on, yes. It digs a little into the fallacy of magical madmen, which is problematic and a touch ironic in an episode about ~understanding~ depression. Nonetheless, how rare is it to see a depiction of mental illness in which an inability to cope isn't the result of being weak, or not getting help, or not having the right attitude? How rare is it to see suicide explored with sympathy and respect? It's isn't even a story about how sometimes there's nothing we can do; it's about what can be done, and about how it can still matter even if it doesn't solve anything.
I say "and maybe you wouldn't expect it" because not unlike cats, mental illness/depression is a topic so close to my heart that against expectations, I generally hate fictional representations of it. Hell, I even hate commercials for depression medication (which ain't far from a fictional representation, let's be honest). Not only do I recognize when it's portrayed poorly or inaccurately, it often is—and the constant failure is worse than silence would be.
But perhaps all that practice with shitty representations has taught me to overlook some failings when there's good reason to—and that episode was reason enough, for me.
