Holistic Review: The concepts are full of potential, but the details never quite add up.

Oh, I want to like this episode so much more than I do! I'm always bitterly disappointed in myself when I don't adore a Mark Gatiss episode, because I totally dig the man's point of view as a writer, and I want to be 100% on board with everything he touches. In this case I feel it even more keenly, because so much of what's in this episode is exactly what I love about Mark Gatiss' work, only it never quite clicks for me. So I think it will help me to go through each of his fantastic plot elements, to explain why they're fab but where my issues lie.

Superb Gatiss Concept #1: Sweetville
Sweetville is such a clever, original setting for a Doctor Who story, and it's the kind of backdrop that most science-fiction series just can't utilize, because it practically requires a story set in this specific time period. Sweetville reminds me of nothing so much as the Battle Creek Sanitarium, which was founded in 1866 right here in Michigan, about an hour west of me. The founder, Dr John Harvey Kellogg — brother to Will Keith Kellogg, who invented his famous corn flakes as part of the Sanitarium's health regimen — believed not only in proper nutrition, hydrotherapy and exercise, but also in enemas and bland food, electrotherapy and radium baths, celibacy and and treatments to prevent masturbation, and racial segregation. What a fun spa weekend! And what an interesting, potentially volatile setting for a Doctor Who story.

What Lets it Down:

• As background color, it almost feels like it's not used enough. Its founder, with her ideas of genetic and moral purity, fits in perfectly, but we never really see any of Sweetville itself, except for a couple of homes occupied by paralyzed people in glass crucibles. There's really no sense of what Sweetville, as a puritanical pleasure-denying village, is like to live in.
  
• Why is one of the cavernous secret rooms devoted to a single row of gramophones blaring mechanical noises at full volume? Jenny lingers there, curious, but it's never explained. Is it meant to give passersby the impression of vast nonexistent machinery? If true, what purpose would that serve?

Superb Gatiss Concept #2: Mrs Winifred Gillyflower
What a fantastic name! The very best thing about Mrs Gillyflower, in my opinion, is that she's the Doctor Who version of a real-life Doctor Who enemy: Mrs Mary Whitehouse, moral crusader extraordinaire, whose accusations of immorality dogged the program most tenaciously during the Tom Baker years. I feel quite sure that Gatiss used her at least partly as inspiration, and I think it's a spectacular idea. We've never had a puritanical moral crusader as a villain before, and as I mentioned, she's a perfect fit for the story's setting. What I also appreciate — although I think it may have led Gatiss down an even more thorny path, which I'll discuss in a moment — is that, despite preaching against the ills of Victorian moral decay, she's not overtly motivated by religious reasons. We could have had yet another "evil nutty Christian" rammed down our throats, but I think Mrs Gillyflower is definitely not that. She's driven by her own personal moral code, which is deeply inconsistent and often downright cruel (as in her line "You know I cannot bear to look at sick people." ...which, apparently, is a direct quote from Dame Diana Rigg, who I'm sure didn't mean it in the same way that Mrs Gillyflower does!). The mere idea that she would be willing to experiment on her daughter, especially without consent, is dizzyingly horrific.

What Lets it Down:

• Well, her plan. While the idea of it is great, too many of the details are hazy. I'll go into more details later, but let me outline some of the parts that gave me the most trouble. First, how does Mrs Gillyflower turn people away? Her church meeting is full of potential converts who don't look particularly fit or beautiful, but she's selling them on Sweetville all the same. So what happens when they come up to her afterwards and want to join the community? (Then again: I don't see Mrs Gillyflower as being the sort of person who would have a hard time telling someone 'no'...)
  
• Is Mrs Gillyflower not perhaps a bit too aged herself to be making judgments on others' fitness and attractiveness? (Then again: this, perhaps, is the point.)
  
• Why has Mrs Gillyflower insisted that the denizens of Sweetville must be beautiful? She seems like the sort of person who would be more concerned that her neighbors (and future inheritors of the Earth) be morally good, so I'm not sure that I really understand her motivation. Because Mrs Gillyflower isn't judging people for reasons of religious morality, as one would expect, this criterion feels shoehorned in — and, as I've mentioned, she herself would not seem to qualify, if she were making completely objective decisions. (Then again: the fact that she's hand-selecting only the people who fit her definition of attractive adds a subtle racist and ableist tone to her already-suspect definition of purity.)

Superb Gatiss Concept #3: the Crimson Horror
Like Mrs Gillyflower, the Crimson Horror is blessed with a fantastic name, as, therefore, is the episode itself. It's an excellent visual concept; much like the titular Green Death, the sight of blood-red corpses being fished out of the river is alarming and viscerally horrific. So, too, is the sight of unconscious men and women, clad only in their long underwear, being slowly and inexorably lowered toward a vat of bubbling red goo.

What Lets it Down:

• Well, first off, what's up with last week's trailer completely giving away its secret? "In the wrong hands, that venom could wipe out all life on this planet" indeed! I know the production team know what spoilers are!
  
• Its menace was further dented, for me, by the revelation that the Doctor was reflected in the dead man's eyes. We know the Doctor didn't kill Edmund, so if the Doctor was somehow connected to his death, it seemed to imply that there was a perfectly innocent explanation for what had happened, and the Crimson Horror therefore couldn't be all that horrible. (Thankfully, the "innocent explanation", when it arrives, doesn't actually undermine the Crimson Horror at all — because the Doctor, rather than being an accomplice to an accidental death, is actually a prisoner and a victim of the Horror himself — but for me the damage had already been partly done.)
  
• Its effects seem inconsistent. I can handle the idea that some people develop immunity (and impermeable skin) while others are poisoned, but why does Edmund live long enough to climb out of the vat, run down the hall, climb a flight of steps, find the Doctor's room, and bash in the (locked?) door before keeling over face-first? Nobody else was able to do that, not even the Doctor. (Then again, they were all strapped in, while perhaps Edmund was pushed and therefore free to struggle?)
  
• If all the venom that Mrs Gillyflower possesses fits into one giant flask, then where does the vat full of venom come from? (Or is there more that gets destroyed offscreen? Jenny sees a group of pilgrims carrying what appears to be two flasks.) Mrs Gillyflower says that it's diluted, but if that's the case, why does the diluted venom in the vat appear to be stronger (more vividly colored, and of a thicker texture) than the pure venom?
  
• We never learn how exactly the Doctor cures its paralysis, only that the procedure involves a shower (or a steam bath) and the sonic screwdriver.

The other innovative plot element is Mr Sweet himself, who, living up to his name, is oddly adorable despite the lamprey mouth and those spiked forearms that he uses to cling onto his host. Unfortunately, he's such a throwaway element that his design is about the only thing he's got going for him.

• What benefit does he give Mrs Gillyflower? She says he gives her his "nectar", and there's the vaguest of implications that perhaps this maintains her health and/or extends her life, but it's never made clear.
  
• Why does Mr Sweet like her to sprinkle salt on her bosoms? Clearly he needs to be fed, because we later see him noshing on small chunks of (presumably) raw meat, but salt? That's not very nutritious, surely. Why doesn't she just stuff some soup meat down her blouse? Besides, we're told that Mr Sweet survived by consuming humanity's waste in the rivers, and unless that was nothing more than a survival tactic, he would seem to require a very different sort of nourishment than we do.
  
• What motivates Mr Sweet to help Mrs Gillyflower unleash the Crimson Horror on the world? If he's helping to keep her alive so that she can nourish him, that state of affairs surely can't last forever, and when she dies, wouldn't he want to go back to those tasty nutritious rivers? But if he's wiped out most of humanity, there won't be very much waste in them any longer.
  
• How did he develop the process of extracting the Crimson Horror, and engineer its deployment? The only possibility that occurs to me is that on his home planet, Mr Sweet was a scientist and shipbuilder, hence his ability to analyze the makeup of the crimson poison, and to direct the villagers in building an exploding rocket.
  
• For that matter, how did Mr Sweet discover the Crimson Horror in the first place? (Was Mrs Gillyflower digging a very deep well in her backyard?) He seems to be an alien, not a prehistoric being. Then again — this idea has only just occurred to me — is the lamprey mouth supposed to imply that Mr Sweet is one of the Repulsive Red Leeches?! If so, it's not made at all clear; but that would explain Mr Sweet's "nectar" (the Crimson Horror), if not the salt (which you would think would kill a leech as effectively as it would a slug). A supporting line of dialogue, or a more leech-like design, would have made it more explicit, if this was indeed Gatiss' intention.

I suspect that what this story really needed was a stronger monster. The combination of an alien parasite, an ancient poison, and a loony old lady with dreams of world domination just feels like too many disparate plot elements that somehow don't gel. Mind you, I like the idea of a villain taking advantage of a newly-discovered prehistoric venom for nefarious purposes... it has shades of Fenric and Inferno, which mingle well with the other echoes in the story of Ghost Light (creepy Victoriana, and a hatch set into a locked door for delivering food to a mysterious prisoner) and, of course, The Green Death (in the syntax of the title, as well as the symptoms of the venom). It's Mr Sweet, perhaps, that was really one step too far; had Mrs Gillyflower herself learned to wield the Crimson Horror (given that she is, after all, reputedly a prize-winning chemist), and had she used it for a slightly more character-appropriate, spine-tingling scheme, I think I'd have looked on the plot more favorably.

It must be said, though, that Mark Gatiss' ear for authentic period dialogue is spectacular. I absolutely revel in his characters' lines, with their contemporary references and turns of phrase. My favorite is the poster advertising Mrs Gillyflower's lecture "on the present moral decay"... such a classic Gatiss moment!

What a thrill to see Diana Rigg in Doctor Who! I adored her in Mother Love, which I watched with rapt attention one summer week, with my mother during a beach vacation. It was a memorable performance that neither of us ever forgot (and it really needs a DVD release!). Despite having heard that she was going to be in this episode, I didn't even realize on first viewing that Rigg was Mrs Gillyflower until about halfway through, when she laughs and says "Very funny!" She's very sinister in the part, especially when Edmund is killed. I love the way that she noisily slurps her soup, so at odds with the prim comportment one would expect of such a woman, and Mrs Gillyflower's most defining moment, for me, is when Ada asks if she had a pleasant day, to which her response is: "Tolerable." Rigg gives a standout performance as a woman who enjoys being miserable, and enjoys even more foisting that misery on others, and who, despite being a staunch advocate of moral purity, is almost completely lacking in conscience. Among her many great line deliveries, I was particularly fond of her guileless "A glass of Amontillado!"... if you didn't know any better, you'd think she was the perfect charming host!

Rachel Stirling turns in a very sympathetic performance as Ada, who was deliberately scarred by her mother (physically and emotionally) and then, through no fault of her own although she accepts the blame, branded unfit to be a part of the "utopia" that she helped create. I liked Stirling's delivery of "No! Nooo! Where are you, monster?" (But why does she keep calling the Doctor "monster" even after he can talk and she could ask him his name? He must find it slightly offensive!) Her personality takes a dramatic turn when she finally learns of her mother's betrayal and snaps: "You hag! You perfidious hag! You virago! You harpy!" and "Shoot if you wish, Mama! It is of no matter, for you killed me a long time ago!" The sight of her whacking her once-beloved mother with a cane is simultaneously horrible and satisfying. (As a wise woman once said, "Disloyalty, treachery, is the worst of crimes, and deserves the severest punishment.") Ada's a completely changed woman by the end, finally taking some control over her life, and exuding a self-confidence and assertiveness that she's never before possessed.

Aside from Rigg and Stirling, two other actors really stood out. The first was Graham Turner as undertaker Amos, with his lascivious tones and his flicking tongue. What a horrible, slimy man, who clearly takes such unhealthy relish in his job. The second was Michelle Tate as Abigail, whose character — timid and self-conscious, yet talkative and unexpectedly bold — is utterly captured within a few lines. Her swooning fit is second to none! I also enjoyed Brendan Patricks' performance as poor fainting Mr Thursday, and his slightly offended delivery of the line "This 'stiff' is my brother."

I'm really enjoying these return appearances by Madame Vastra and company. I thought, partway through The Crimson Horror, that it felt almost as if we'd arrived in the middle of the story, and then it turns out that's exactly what's happened. The excellent upshot of this is that it gives us a chance to watch Vastra, Jenny and Strax investigating the Doctor's disappearance, meaning that they get to carry the majority of the story on their own. My favorite of McIntosh's lines: "I was, in fact, speaking to Jenny.", and the way she barks "Go!" Throughout the story, she's remarkably adept at emoting through her reptilian makeup: for example, the coy look on her face when she says "About sixty-five million years.", along with her reaction to Mr Thursday fainting. Poor Strax is beginning to turn into a one-note joke, with nearly every line out of his mouth having something to do with over-the-top aggression, but it's always such a funny image that it's hard not to laugh anyway. (Except for the entire scene involving Thomas Thomas, which is so groan-worthy and ill-fitting that it should have been cut out of the first draft.) As always, much humor is wrung from the juxtaposition between Strax's nature and his current genteel situation, as in the sight of him waving a black lacy Victorian fan over poor unconscious Mr Thursday, or Vastra chiding him with "Strax! You're overexcited! Have you been eating those jelly sherbet fancies again?" It just seems so right that Strax assumes he is the fit and beautiful one required to infiltrate Sweetville. Of Dan Starkey's many excellent deliveries, my favorites are: the far-more-menacing-than-necessary "Remember: we are going to the north!", and "Suit yourself."

One of the real positives of The Crimson Horror is that it gives Jenny, the most ordinary and least-explored member of the Paternoster gang, some character development. We always knew she was brave, and a good fighter, but that's somehow different than watching her go charging right into danger, picking locks and exploring secret rooms and facing down an army of thugs single-handedly. She looks formidable in her combat outfit, and it's empowering to watch her incapacitate attackers one right after the other. Jenny's a fun character to cheer on, and Catrin Stewart has a great rapport with her co-stars, as during her confidential chatting with Abigail or the way she confusedly fires questions at the Doctor's retreating back. I really don't get, though, why — after handily dispatching the first three of her opponents, without even looking at two of them — Jenny turns her back on the rest of the mob, and winds up having to flee before they attack her en masse from behind. Surely, as a seasoned fighter, she knows better than that?

Now, the downside of giving this episode to Vastra, Jenny and Strax is that we still don't know that much about Clara, and she's practically written out of this story altogether. She doesn't appear at all until the flashback at 17:26, and she doesn't formally enter the storyline until 27:20, over halfway through. But while she's onscreen, she gets good things to do: she notices the peculiarity of the chimney that doesn't blow smoke, she pragmatically seizes the nearest chair to put Mrs Gillyflower's rocket-launching mechanism out of action, and she demonstrates that, like her Victorian counterpart, she can convincingly mimic accents. Speaking of her counterpart, introducing her to the Victorian detectives brings up delicious possibilities for interactions, assumptions and misunderstandings, given that the Clara they all knew is dead. Not much is made of it yet, thanks mainly to the Doctor's evasiveness, but I get the impression that we haven't seen the last of this plot thread. Sadly, though, by this point it seems like Clara's characterization from The Rings of Akhaten — the only story thus far to truly delve into her personality — has been all but forgotten. I know now that a lot of people absolutely despised that episode, but sheesh. A little bit of Clara's wistfulness for her mother, or her sense of nostalgia, wouldn't go amiss. I'm not terribly fond of her new "I'm the boss" routine; let's not get too big for our britches, 'kay? However, I'm ecstatic that Clara gets to play dress-up in the past, a luxury that has not been extended to every companion's historical forays, and her plum-colored dress, with chevrons down the blouse, is really flattering and interesting. Great delivery of "Hi.", and her patiently waiting for the Doctor to realize her point about the chimney.

Matt Smith is also a little bit sidelined in The Crimson Horror — which is nothing unusual; we just haven't had a "Doctor-lite" story in years — but once he's back in the action, he's fully back in the action, running around at top speed to save Clara and... I almost said "deflower Mrs Gilly", but I do believe that what I meant was "defeat Mrs Gillyflower". Ahem. His performance as the paralyzed Doctor is great. The way he grunts, and roars like Frankenstein, makes you sympathize with his affliction while, at the same time, being slightly frightened of his intensity, which is brilliant. And, oh, his Yorkshire accent! And his Yorkshire personality! ("You could have roller coasters!") Can Matt Smith put on this persona more often? It's really entertaining. The word "adorable" also comes to mind. I loved his delivery of "Oh, haven't you heard, love? There's trouble at t'mill.", and the less-Yorkshire-but-still-awesome "I'm the Doctor, you're nuts, and I'm gonna stop you." and "Chairs are useful!" But, now, what's the Doctor doing kissing Jenny?! She's a married woman! I have to admit, in some ways it makes me feel better. Clearly Jenny isn't the slightest bit interested in the Doctor, and for that matter, the Doctor's well aware that she's spoken for, so there can't be any sexual connotation from either party. Which means that the Doctor does indeed have a tendency to kiss people when he's feeling enormous relief, and that not only enables me to retroactively confirm my diagnosis of his first kiss with Grace, but also perhaps some of his subsequent kisses. On the flipside, between the swoon, the forehead kiss, and the look Clara gives the Doctor on the line "A friend of his", Gatiss seems to be trying to make me believe that the Doctor and Clara could be an item after all. Don't do this to me, Mark Gatiss! I'll take back what I said about wanting to have your children!

There aren't a whole lot of effects to speak of, aside from the rocket launch, but Mr Sweet is a definite highlight. Not only does he look pretty cool dragging himself across the ground by the forearms, but his destruction by cane is really icky.

Murry Gold's score this week is partly recycled, but there's some nice music as Mr Thursday arrives at Vastra's door to be greeted by Strax (actually, it gave me Fenric vibes), as the undertaker passes the bottle of Crimson Horror to Vastra, and as Ada takes revenge on Mr Sweet.

I didn't find myself wowed by Saul Metzstein's direction this week, but there were shots that I liked: the lovely opening shot of Yorkshire; the angle on Ada turning her head to reveal her sightless eyes; the spooky visual of bare-legged people being lowered into a bubbling vat; the crimson victim's skin standing out starkly against the sepia-toned flashback; the dramatic reveal of Mr Sweet suckling at Mrs Gillyflower's breastbone; and everyone watching the TARDIS dematerialize. The decision to make the flashback resemble an old newsreel was creative and fun. There were, however, a couple of choices that I thought interfered with the telling of the story. When Jenny unlocks the Doctor's cell, why do we see her cry "Doctor!" (thus giving away the surprise) rather than cutting directly from her shocked reaction to an in-your-face tight shot of a manacled, vividly-red Doctor? Also, it's not at all clear how Mrs Gillyflower falls over the edge... she loses her grip on the railing when Strax fires at her, but that shouldn't cause her to topple over it.

Minor points:

• How is it that Mr Thursday doesn't notice, through her flimsy veil, that Madame Vastra has an oddly-shaped head? Does he think she's wearing a crocodile-skin hat?!

• Ahhh, so much foreshadowing in this line that I didn't catch!

  Mrs Gillyflower: "Will you be found wanting when the end of days is come, when judgment rains down upon us all, or will you be preserved against the coming apocalypse?"

• Superb line!

  Strax: "And how will she locate the Doctor?"
  Vastra: "To find him, she needs only ignore all 'keep out' signs, go through every locked door, and run towards any form of danger that presents itself."
  Strax: "Business as usual, then."

• How does the Doctor manage to feed himself while mostly paralyzed?

• Probably my favorite Strax line this week:

  Strax: (encouragingly) "Casualties can be kept to perhaps as little as 80%."

• Nobody seems to pay the slightest bit of attention to Jenny picking that lock! Everyone just marches right past her, eyes forward. I don't think she needed Abigail to cause a distraction!

• How did Amos manage to bottle the Crimson Horror? Did the Doctor extract it for him during his examinations, perhaps?

• Oh! Poor Doctor. How I sympathize with his condition! As it happens, the day that The Crimson Horror aired, I was in Vancouver, doing a self-guided tour of filming locations from various TV shows (including Doctor Who). I'd apparently injured myself the Thursday before, when my four-hour hike in the Lower Seymour Demonstration Forest (the setting of the X-Files episode "Darkness Falls") turned into a nonstop seven-hour 24-km hike over frequently uneven, painfully gravelled roads. By the time I reached the end of the trail, I had a swollen left ankle, sore knees, a twinging hip and a pinched nerve. I followed this up, unfortunately, with two more days of walking around Vancouver, and on Saturday afternoon — right around the time that The Crimson Horror aired — as I was walking around an industrial park in Burnaby, suffering (I later realized) from heat exhaustion and dehydration on top of everything else, both of my knees suddenly locked up to the point that I could barely walk. So for the next half-hour, I shuffled and lurched my way to my next destination, very much like the Doctor under the effects of the poison!

• Given that we come into the story partway through, I love that the Doctor and Clara's arrival is told via flashback! Superb. It's not only stylish and quaintly cute, it's also an economical way to get us caught up on the backstory.

• One of my favorite lines of the episode. I am honestly beginning to feel that we got a bit gypped on the anniversary celebration this year (who knew that what I really wanted was the sort of thing JNT gave the fans in season 20? ...but more on that later), but it's lines like this that give me an anniversary thrill. Not to mention the exciting reappearance of "Brave heart, Clara."

  Clara: "You're making a habit of this, getting us lost."
  Doctor: "Sorry. It's much better than it used to be. Ooh, I once spent a hell of a long time trying to get a gobby Australian to Heathrow Airport."

• I'm a little bit confused about why Jenny starts quoting Mrs Gillyflower's sermon as if she's beginning to realize something, but then when the Doctor questions her about it, she passes it off like it was nothing. But then a moment later, when the Doctor pounces on what she said, Jenny starts acting like it could be all important. Make up your mind, woman!

• Why, I wonder, does the Doctor use a chair, rather than his sonic screwdriver, to shatter the crucible containing Clara? I wouldn't have noticed it if it hadn't been for the later scene with Clara, which demonstrates that the Doctor's first instinct is always to use the sonic screwdriver, even when a simpler solution is at hand. (And isn't that just a perfect summary of new Who!)

• I didn't really think about this until my fourth viewing, but could someone please tell me that I'm misinterpreting it? Why, when Jenny strips down to her tight leather combat uniform, does the Doctor's sonic screwdriver begin to point skyward, until he notices it and consciously points it forward again? If that means what it seems to be implying, it's very unusually crass for Doctor Who. (Oh well... better Jenny than Clara, at least, I suppose?)

• Good heavens, Strax, I know you're itching for a battle, but it was really not wise to fling yourself down corridors while firing willy-nilly. You're lucky you didn't hit any of the good guys!

• I think I agree exactly! Great name, but not as great.

  Doctor: "Ooh, the Repulsive Red Leech! ...nah, on balance, I think I prefer the Crimson Horror."

• After Mrs Gillyflower poisons the planet (or at least Yorkshire), how long will it take for the Crimson Horror to pass out of the ecosystem? Mrs Gillyflower seems to think that her pilgrims will be able to recolonize the Earth within a few months!

• A great visual joke, worthy of Buffy and never before seen in Doctor Who: the gang, leaping into action, makes far too much noise, and has to retreat into hiding for a moment before trying again more quietly! Hilarious.

• Why does Ada refuse to reveal Mr Sweet's identity, on the grounds that she can't betray her mother? It became very clear, during the dinner-table scene, that Ada has no idea who Mr Sweet is either!

• The second line that really defines Mrs Gillyflower's character, and a sumptuous performance from Rigg:

  Doctor: "Mrs Gillyflower, you have no idea what you are dealing with. In the wrong hands, that venom could wipe out all life on this planet."
  Mrs Gillyflower: "Do you know what these are? The wrong hands!"

• I wonder why Ada doesn't remember anything about her mother's experimentation, and why she's bought this cockamamie story about her father being in a drunken rage. I don't get the impression that the experiments were carried out when Ada was tiny; it sounds more like relatively recent history. Was the experience so traumatic that she's blocked it out? But if that's the case, Mrs Gillyflower took a great risk in going ahead with the procedure, because she couldn't have predicted with absolute certainty that Ada wouldn't remember anything about it.

• For that matter, why would Mrs Gillyflower choose to use her own daughter, rather than someone she doesn't care about, or who wouldn't be missed if they died? After all, she clearly has no problem murdering random strangers. Reflecting on that decision makes her seem even more cold-hearted, if indeed she simply wanted to use whomever was close at hand, and didn't particularly care who it was. Which makes me wonder: is it possible that Ada wasn't her first test subject? Might that explain the odd absence of her alleged drunken lout of a husband?

• How does Strax climb up the outside of the tower? He may be from a high-gravity planet, but he's also wearing heavy-looking armour! Is he that strong?!

• Why on earth is Ada already willing to forgive her mother?! She goes straight from whacking her with a cane to being willing to embrace her in a relieved hug! She's a better person than I am...

• How does Mrs Gillyflower plan to survive outside of a crucible, after she's launched her rocket? She certainly doesn't seem to be in any hurry to reach one. Does she think that her own immunization procedure will protect her against the ravages of the poison? But the others have been immunized in exactly the same way, surely, and she's put them safely inside crucibles. Could it have something to do with her symbiotic relationship with Mr Sweet?

• If Mrs Gillyflower's pilgrims didn't load the venom into the rocket, what do they think they armed it with? (Or did Vastra and Jenny steal the flask after it had been put on board?)

• A wicked woman she might have been, but Mrs Gillyflower's death is violent and painful, and I'm not sure how comfortable I am that it's kind of played for laughs...

• Okay, now Ada feels the same way I do. Apparently it took being threatened at gunpoint to dash her last remaining bit of goodwill. Is it awful that I'm 100% behind her on this decision? It's not terribly Christian of me, I realize.

  Mrs Gillyflower: "Forgive me, my child. Forgive me."
  Ada: "Never."

• What, again?!

  Clara: "Maybe had enough of Victorian values for a bit."

• Why does the Doctor drop Clara off at home and then leave again? I know he's steering the TARDIS more reliably these days, but I always worry that, like Sarah Jane Smith or Amy, Clara won't see him again for years, if at all.

• Strong implication that Clara has been gone for quite some time, with presumably no forewarning. So how did the kids get by all this time without their nanny?

• I love that Angie and Artie have figured out Clara's secret (although I was hoping maybe they'd dug up a photo of an adventure that Clara hadn't actually had yet!). But, ummm, where did all these pictures come from? The only likely suspect on board the submarine would be Professor Grisenko, but he's in the photo too. Still, I could believe that one of the other submariners took the picture and we just didn't see it, but there wasn't anybody else in Caliburn House except for the four of them. Did Hila take it?! Was there an automatic camera setup that we didn't notice? If only we'd seen someone snapping photos in those stories, this would have been much more believable.

• Ha! Nice one, very naturally done.

  Clara: "That's not right."
  Angie: "You were in Victorian London."
  Clara: "No, I was in Victorian Yorkshire."

• After the annoyance of last week's teaser, I've been trying hard to avoid spoilers for next week's episode... but it sure sounds like the Doctor's going to be taking Angie and Artie along to meet the Cybermen! Is that a possible plot development? If so, it could be pretty neat. I like the two of them — Angie's got sass, and Artie seems likeably eager — and although I question the wisdom of taking two kids into potentially life-or-death situations, I love the idea of the Doctor having a couple of younger companions, even if it's only for one story.

Even though most of the individual elements of the plot are great, I wish they'd been combined in a different way, because as it stands, The Crimson Horror feels like a loose jumble of ideas rather than a tightly-crafted thriller. Having said that, sometimes I worry that perhaps I'm being too hard on The Crimson Horror. I feel as though I was turned against the plot by numerous tiny but overall inconsequential objections, and I can almost figure out a plausible justification for everything if I really try, but I wish I didn't have to try so hard to make everything fit together. Usually I like it when the author trusts the audience to put the clues together themselves, but sometimes, apparently, I don't! And I'm not sure where the tipping point lies. Despite my misgivings, there's a lot to like about the story. Along with its superb atmosphere, creative setting, and entertaining performances, The Crimson Horror contains more incident and plot development than we've seen in certain other recent episodes. Diana Rigg alone is worth the price of admission!