Did I enjoy ‘Deep Breath’? Yes, I would say that I did. Far more than I’ve enjoyed Doctor Who in a good while, to be honest. Peter Capaldi is as great as we all expected – possibly (impossibly) even better – and his chemistry with Jenna Coleman is fantastic. I liked the callback to the second series (even if it’s a little irritating that Moffat only ever seems to reference himself when it comes to New!Who callbacks). The dinosaur was kind of unnecessary but whatever. Overall it was fun and surprisingly coherent and emotionally rooted, and it reminded me why I fell in love with Doctor Who in the first place…
Until the last eighty to ninety seconds.
My god, I’m tired.
I’m tired of mysterious, mystical, overly-sexual women. I’m tired of cracks in walls, fluctuating pregnancies, and impossible girls. I’m tired of not-wives, of not-deaths, and especially of goddamn Trenzalore. I’m tired of being told what to care about. I’m tired of giant blinking arrow signs screaming ‘THIS IS A MYSTERY’.
I’m just so tired.
I miss the subtlety (or at least subtlety relative to what happens now). I miss the little buzzwords like Bad Wolf and Torchwood sprinkled throughout a series that you sometimes didn’t even notice. I miss throwaway lines about missing planets uttered so casually you didn’t put the pieces together until a second viewing. I miss when things were smaller but somehow seemed to matter more. I miss people who were people, not puzzles; stakes that were actually stakes; consequences that actually stuck (‘everybody lives’ loses its impact when everybody always lives).
I want to love this show, but more than that, I want it to be worthy of my love again.
And unfortunately, thanks to that last scene, I’m not sure it is.