The Woman Who Fell to Earth
review

Holistic Review: It's a definite case of character over plot, but if a new Doctor's début story can't have both, that's the type of imbalance I'd prefer... and hey, the plot's not bad!

Finally, the Jodie Whittaker era is upon us! I feel like I've been mentally hurrying this day forward more than I've ever done since Rose. Why? Well, every second of footage that I've seen of Whittaker has made me adore her even more, and if even half of her charm translated to her performance as the Doctor, I knew I'd fall in love with her incarnation. And, guess what? It translated.

Whittaker's version of the Doctor is completely loveable. There's a warmth to her portrayal that was almost completely missing from the twelfth Doctor ("Come on, Ryan! Come on, Yaz. I'm calling you Yaz, 'cause we're friends now."). Don't get me wrong, I loved the change of pace that was the prickly twelfth Doctor, as you well know, but I wouldn't want a constant diet of cactus. The thirteenth Doctor demonstrates moments of great empathy ("Poor woman," she sighs over the train driver's dead body, and "I'm sorry you all had to see this." when they discover Rahul's mutilated corpse), perhaps more than we've seen from any Doctor since McGann (or arguably Matt Smith, at times), which is a really nice way to immediately distinguish the thirteenth Doctor from her predecessor. Indeed, Whittaker's performance does feel like a blend of Doctors ten and eleven: she gets very Tennant-ish dialogue ("What are you...? Ooh, okay, don't like questions, more the private type. I get that." and "Don't panic, not the end of the world. Well, it could be the end of the world, but one thing at a time."), but her energy and excitement are pure Matt Smith, though she has him beat hands-down for coordination.

For me, two moments stand out. First: when the Doctor, missing her sonic screwdriver, decides to just build her own. I understand that some fans, under the belief that the sonic screwdriver is traditionally a gift from the TARDIS, were irked; but I've always assumed that, aside from Hell Bent, the Doctor always built his own (unless Troughton bought the original model in some intergalactic shop). But regardless of where the sonic screwdrivers typically come from, it's amazing to watch the Doctor create her own from scratch, and not just because it demonstrates how brilliant she is. I kept thinking about all the little girls in the audience who watched Whittaker effortlessly smelting and wiring and welding circuits, and said "I want to make my own sonic screwdriver too!" and then they go into STEM.

Second: the entire sequence on top of the cranes is so tense that my palms were sweating (like Ryan, I really don't like heights), but the absolute pulse-pounding pinnacle of tension, for me, was that gobsmacking moment when the Doctor, realizing there's no other way to rescue Karl, decides to take a running leap onto the crane above her. In the rain, no less! And somehow she manages to get a grip on that slippery metal and haul herself up to save the poor man's life. Talk about heroic.

As I was taking notes of the Whittaker deliveries that I adored, I felt like I was writing down almost every line she uttered, and even if I didn't write one down, it deserved to be included! (Like the wonderful scenes of the Doctor trying to remember her name, or describing for the first time what regeneration actually feels like from her perspective.) But here are the ones that made my crème de la crème cut: "Urrgh! I hate empty pockets!" (such a Doctorish thing to say), her earnest "Why not? I'm alien, and I'm here.", "Still healing, still... ahh!", her kind "Thank you, Grace.", another super-Doctorish "When people need help, I never refuse.", "Bad enough you kill. Why take a tooth from the victim?", "I think you broke the rules!", "When the arms line up, just... step across!", and "If you want something doing..." I can't even remember all the moments where I LOLed at her delivery (because there were so many), but I'm pretty sure these were among them: "Fat lot of use you two were!", "Tim Shaw is a big blue cheat. Okay, fine, have it.", and one of my most favorites: "Ryan, Yaz, how are you with machinery? And heights?" Her comic timing is superb. One of my major clues that an actor has excellent (and naturalistic) range is their use of facial expressions, and boy howdy, are Whittaker's ever amazing. Among my favorites, along with many that accompanied other lines I've quoted elsewhere: the expression she makes at the pitiful little blowtorch flame, the discreet wink she gives Karl on "I've got this", and her reactions during the Doctor's pre-funeral conversation with Ryan. In short, she's an actress of such calibre that I absolutely cannot wait to spend the next few weeks marvelling at the fun ways that she twists a line or pulls a face to make the dialogue even better than it is on paper.

Her costume has its upsides and downsides. I'm wild about the TARDIS-blue trousers and her boots, the braces remind me of Pat Troughton, and I like (though don't love) the grey shirt with its colorful Tom-Baker-scarf-y stripe. I wouldn't be mad if they decided to change up the shirt now and again. But the coat, meh, it's a bit of a grey sack. Here's hoping at least it's got voluminous pockets.

In the interest of total transparency, can I confess that maybe even as recently as 2011, I would've been one of those fans saying "I'd prefer for the Doctor to remain male"? It shames me now to even think that I ever felt that way. I didn't feel strongly about it, and I wouldn't have meant it misogynistically — I've just always been a traditionalist fan, and Time Lords were never known to change gender in the classic series — but my non-hostile intentions wouldn't have made the sentiment any less misogynistic. So what finally helped me see the light? Well, Neil Gaiman gets a big chunk of the credit, for finally making Time Lord gender-changes canonical. Once we know it can happen, there's no reason why it shouldn't happen. I'd like to think, too, that reading up on — and, therefore, more deeply familiarizing myself with — feminist concerns, and the ubiquity and impact of subtle cultural misogyny and microaggressions, not to mention the struggles faced by trans people, has broadened my viewpoint and made me not only more empathetic but hungrier for diversity. I'm grateful to be able to say that my views have evolved very much for the better, though it's unquestionably an ongoing process, as I rediscover every time I learn about yet another issue that I've never considered but that thousands if not millions of people live with every day.

Of our new companions, I had thought — from Tosin Cole's "it's just a job" attitude during the SDCC panel — that Ryan Sinclair would be my least favorite of the three. In fact, I really warmed to him. The script goes to great lengths to demonstrate just how relatable Ryan is: he's an aspiring mechanic working to earn enough money to pay for his training, and he manages life with dyspraxia, as a result of which he's never learned to ride a bike. As a child who was never much good at riding bikes either, I found this endearing, and it's lovely to finally have a companion who's differently-abled in some way. We don't see much evidence of Ryan's dyspraxia here, aside from his bike-riding challenges, and possibly the moment when he stumbles climbing the crane ladder, but I hope that it's a character detail that will continue to affect how his story unfolds. Given his Polaroid camera and his wall of snaps, Ryan appears to be an amateur vintage photographer, which is a neat hobby for a time-traveller. And we get a glimpse of his family history, learning that he lost his mum 8 years ago, and has a deadbeat absentee dad (which is rather unfortunate in that it seems to play into stereotypes about black families, but perhaps those stereotypes don't have the same potency in the UK). Once he loses Grace, his last remaining close family member aside from Graham, I see echoes in Ryan of the orphaned companions of old, like Dodo and Victoria and Nyssa. Most crucially of all, rather than being blasé, Ryan in fact cares very deeply: for his friends, for his absent parents, and for his nan most of all. One very telling moment is when he heaves his bike over the side of the cliff in a frustrated fit of pique, then immediately seems to regret it. (Since this is the first time we've ever seen him ride a bike, it initially makes him seem rather impetuous and short-tempered, but his cringing reaction as the bike clatters downhill completely rescues his reputation!) Aside from his personality, Ryan also shows his companion chops in several scenes. He's clearly bright (he figures out that the Doctor's using his phone to track the DNA bombs back to their origin), quick-thinking (he googles crane-driving instructions on his phone!), and prepared (he remembered to snap photos of the pod).

Retired bus driver and cancer survivor Graham O'Brien, on the other hand, I enjoyed far less than I expected. Bradley Walsh's reputation as a hilarious jokester and enthusiastic cast member had me expecting Graham to be a lively and funny character, but instead he seems to spend most of his time complaining and being argumentative. More problematically, the evidence suggests that Graham is patently unfit for TARDIS travel. He's slow to alter his worldview (insisting, despite the evidence of his own eyes, that aliens couldn't be in Sheffield, and when his paradigm is challenged, petulantly demanding that Grace leave the train with him). When danger threatens, Graham repeatedly hangs back (on the train, and in the alley) while others rush toward it. And while the DNA bomb is unquestionably a matter of great concern, he seems to be unable to put aside his fears for his personal safety in order to concentrate on any of the other urgent matters. Asking when it's going to go off once I can understand; twice, sure, he's stressed out; but three times and you start to sound like a broken self-centered record. (say I, from my privileged remove of never having had a DNA bomb embedded in my own neck. But still!) Does he do one single thing that demonstrates his promise as a companion? Anything that tests his mettle? No. Graham feels like a relic of a different time, stuck in his ways and unwilling to open his mind.

The only conclusion I can draw — because clearly Graham can't go through ten episodes with this stick-in-the-mud personality — is that this characterization is deliberate groundwork that's setting up an arc. The episode draws a clear parallel between Graham and Karl, a character who's equally unsuited for companion life ("Actually, erm... I don't want answers. I just wanna get to work and forget all about this.") and who, like Graham, wants to play Sunnydale and pretend that aliens don't exist ("And I'm with him. We don't get aliens in Sheffield." to which Graham nods in solidarity). And that's not the only arc that has yet to play out: it's clear that there's some mutual animosity between Ryan and Graham. Ryan seems to resent his nan for remarrying Graham in particular, evidently because he doesn't find Graham to be genuine — not his blokey overtures of friendship, nor his tired old sayings that Ryan's heard a thousand times. Graham, meanwhile, acts like he cares about Ryan but seems to have given up trying to form a relationship; his line "Anyway, you're on your own getting that bike, 'cause our train leaves in 20 minutes." feels a bit callous, and he later reveals that he thinks of Ryan as a good-for-nothing layabout who blames his lack of success on his dyspraxia. So now that the two of them are stuck together in the Doctor's company for the foreseeable future, let's hope that they come to a better understanding of one another. After all, Graham has nowhere to go but up, and the fact that even he realizes that "Grace was a better person than I could ever be." gives me hope that that's exactly the direction he's headed.

To be honest, I was keeping my fingers crossed that the production team had pulled a fast one on us, and we would eventually learn that it was Grace rather than Graham who was joining Ryan on his TARDIS travels. She's got companion-material written all over her: she's proactive, she repeatedly demonstrates her bravery (immediately going forward to see what happened with the train, running toward the alien almost as fast as the Doctor, and insisting on returning to the construction site), she insists on sticking with the Doctor ("She just saved our lives!"), and for goodness' sake, the woman even single-handedly crowbars open a door (thanks for the help, Graham). And she's living for it: "Is it wrong to be enjoying this?!" she giggles at Graham (unsurprising response: "Yes!") before rushing headlong into further danger to rescue Ryan and Yaz. Not to mention the fact that because she's a nurse, she possesses extremely useful skills which come in handy at least twice in this episode alone (taking care of the Doctor, and analyzing Rahul's body). It made me wonder if her name might be a sly homage, especially when she whispered to Ryan "She's got two separate pulses", in a moment that gave me strong McGann-film vibes. And I absolutely loved that her instinctive response to the Doctor's confusion was to be kind and supportive, and so very helpful: "What's your best guess, love?" she gently suggests. Alas, it was not meant to be: I was trying to ignore the little voice in my head whispering that Grace was destined for an unhappy end — why else would both Ryan and Graham wind up travelling with the Doctor? — but my little voice turned out to be telling the truth. I'm angry, maybe more than a little, that such a fantastic character met her end too early, but it was certainly a superb performance by Sharon D Clarke. I loved every single one of her line deliveries, but a favorite moment is the way she playfully swats Ryan upside the head.

I had a feeling, based mostly on Mandip Gill's chipper demeanor, that Yasmin Khan might wind up being my favorite of these three companions, and so far my intuition has been proved correct. For starters, can I just say how utterly delighted I am that she has a proper career and everything??? I literally yelped for joy when I realized she was the woman in uniform. It's going to be so lovely to have a TARDIS traveller with an actual professional skillset to draw from again, and we've never had a cop in the TARDIS before. I can't wait to see how that background informs her behaviour in future stories. We've already seen that she naturally has a take-charge personality, she's somewhat fearless (certainly she's not bothered by heights), and she's able to throw herself headlong into something she's never done before (ie, learning to drive a crane), all of which are excellent credentials for a Doctor Who companion. Most astonishingly of all, I love that the Doctor has such faith in her new friends: "You can figure out how to work a crane, right?" she asks Yaz. And then she just leaves Yaz to it! And then Yaz figures out how to make it work. (with Ryan's help, of course.) I cannot even articulate how brilliant this is. The icing on the cake: she even has a quirky nickname! We haven't had a nicknamey companion since Ace, unless you count Amy (but that's such a standard nickname for Amelia that it's become a name in its own right) or Bill (assuming that's not her given name, which it might be). Yet again, it feels like we're bringing back some fond old traditions amidst all this exciting newness. I loved Gill's delivery of "Yeah... we don't call it that.", "What?" (when Ryan asks her to touch the pod), and "No!" (when the Doctor asks if she can turn the lights and siren on).

I didn't expect our three new companions to be linked in any way, but giving them some shared history certainly fast-tracks the storyline, and lays the groundwork for some potentially fascinating character development. We don't really have a sense yet of how Yaz and Graham will get along, but otherwise the character relationships boast a fair amount of existing depth for future scriptwriters to mine. And I love that we have a four-person TARDIS crew again, for the first time since Nyssa, Tegan and Turlough, a format which harks back to the original TARDIS crew of Ian, Barbara and Susan. It warms my heart rather! Of course, the traditional downside of this configuration is that it's difficult to find a way for all three companions to meaningfully contribute to the plot (as poor Nyssa can certainly tell you). I was hoping that the revival would laugh in the face of this challenge, but in fact it does seem to have affected the story somewhat, as all three companions are involved but none really gets a moment to absolutely shine. Still, that might also be an artefact of The Woman Who Fell to Earth being a première episode, so I'm certainly excited to see how future storylines balance such a robust TARDIS team.

Before I go any further, I should take a moment to talk about Chris Chibnall. I've at least implied before, if not stated outright, that my biggest fear about series 11 was the handover from Moffat to Chibnall. In particular, if Moffat's scriptwriting plummeted from all-time classics like Blink and Silence in the Library before he became showrunner, to The Time of the Doctor and The Doctor Falls afterward, how much worse might Chris Chibnall's scripts get when his previous best included middling-to-bad clichéfest stories like 42 or Cold Blood?

Nor was I terribly encouraged by rumors that series 11 would comprise one single arc storyline, which to me implied something like Torchwood's Children of Earth season. Potentially great, sure, but I don't want to be stuck in one time and place for an entire season of Doctor Who. I had enough of that in the Pertwee years.

And, to be quite frank, I still haven't forgiven Chibnall for the way he savaged Pip and Jane Baker to their faces on television, during his appearance on a rather deliberately vicious episode of Open Air in 1986. (My phone thinks he "ravaged" them, but I'm sure nobody wanted that.) I mostly blame host Pattie Coldwell, who set the tone by complaining how difficult it was to understand the single episode that she "tried really hard" to watch, then asked questions like "Are you disappointed with [the new series]?" which encouraged the fans to vent their own criticisms. But she was hardly on their side, given the way she gently and not-so-gently mocked them by saying things like "Do you not feel very silly? I mean it is basically a kids' program, isn't it? You're getting a bit long in the tooth for this sort of thing!" Yeah, thanks a lot, Pattie, that takes me right back to similar conversations with my parents when I was twelve. Guess what: I'm still watching it, I still adore it, and I'm reviewing it, so nyaaah. Worse yet, Coldwell seemed to be trying to lead Pip and Jane Baker into trap questions. In front of a group of diehard fans who were criticizing the complicated storylines, she asked Pip, "So you've actually set out to make it a little more difficult, perhaps?" and of Jane, "Can I ask, have you always been, did you use to watch it yourself before you were writing it?" Most infuriatingly, she practically pounced on Jane Baker: "But it has to be said, Jane," Coldwell sneered, "that these are some of the toughest and — they love the series, they really do, and yet they're not happy. Let's get them to get some answers out of you better than I can." Sheesh! Nice way to insult your own guests by implying that they're not just bad writers, but uncooperative to boot.

Anyway, turning to Chibnall's part in the program, he was somewhat kinder about Bonnie Langford ("She is admittedly a very good actress. She just has to restrain herself a bit more. She seems very theatrical at the moment. [...] Does Doctor Who fit into that [pantomime] role?") than he was to the Trial season ("It doesn't seem to have that much to it. It hasn't improved that much since it went off the air. It could've been a lot better. It could've been slightly better written, especially the last story. Not only that [it was too complicated], but it was also very clichéd. It was very routine, running up and down corridors and silly monsters."). But when he's given the chance to address poor beleaguered Pip and Jane directly, he attempts to be polite but just can't stop himself from bluntly criticizing them: "Did you not feel that story with the Vervoids was perhaps a little too, er, routine Doctor Who? Very much what the audience is expecting, it's not really very challenging for them to watch. It was very, I mean, the story itself has been done in different ways in the past few years, very much a whodunit on board a space liner, and a very traditional sort of thing that people would expect Doctor Who to fall into." Oh, you mean like a story about a warrior alien — sorry, I mean, silly monster — hunting down an innocent human being? Yeah, never seen that before. Jane protests that Doctor Who fans usually like traditional stories, which is quite true; in response, Chibnall — despite having just watched Mindwarp, one of the most atypical stories in the entire Doctor Who canon — tries to argue that he's been forcefed an unending diet of 'typical' four-parters (before suddenly realizing that because of Mindwarp, his position is quite untenable): "It would be nice to have something totally different from the norm, though, just for a change. I mean, the last episode was admittedly much better than the previous four, erm, but I still felt that that story was still fairly, nyerrrrrm, boring." (Jane handles this blunt rudeness with grace and humor: "Well, I'm glad not all the fans live in Liverpool, I think!") Personally speaking, a traditional story is exactly what I needed after Mindwarp. Now, I understand being dissatisfied with the Trial season. I understand that these fans perhaps didn't realize that they were pounding yet another nail into Doctor Who's eventual coffin. And I understand that teenagers can easily become embarrassed and defensive (or, in this case, offensive) when the TV show they still adore betrays them by refusing to grow up with them. But I just can't quite understand going on national television to say barely one good thing about your favorite TV show. More to the point, you can't subject Doctor Who, its writers, and its producer to that kind of bile in public, and then not expect a little taste of your own medicine when you're the one in the hot seat. Especially if your own scripts don't back up your teenage braggadocio. In other words: karma is very satisfying. So yes, Chris Chibnall, in honor of Pip and Jane Baker, I am going to needle you a little bit about the fact that your own stories, including even this one, have been in some ways as traditional and clichéd as they come. (And when I become the Doctor Who showrunner someday, I give you license to describe my showstopping season finale Vengeance of the Vervoids as "clichéd and boring" before it's even aired.)

Long story short: between his stated disdain for one of my own favorite eras of Doctor Who, and the worrying fact that his own back catalogue of uninspiring Doctor Who scripts demonstrates the exact same flaws for which he criticized the Trial season (and then some!), I came into series 11 with some very deep misgivings.

But I have to say: wow, early signs are very promising. I'm not ignoring the possibility that it could still go pear-shaped in the end — I was, after all, a little disappointed to learn that this season only features five staff writers (none of whom are Mark Gatiss and Jamie Mathieson, sniff sniff), because that meant more scripts for Chibnall to write — but I'm not so worried any more.

I find it interesting that, looking back over the eras of his two predecessors, I notice striking tendencies, with a fair degree of overlap, notably including certain negative tendencies that I'll be happy never to have repeated. The Russell T Davies era was one of high emotion, with a strong emphasis on characters and relationships; but that emotion sometimes felt manipulative or, worse, veered into mawkish sentimentality, particularly when Doctors and companions declared their undying love for one another. Not to mention the advertising hyperbole! Oh the hyperbole! Both the emotional content and the attempts to validate the aforementioned hyperbole often took precedence over plot, which was far too freewheeling for my liking, with literally an overt contempt for careful plotting. And if there's one great thing about the Steven Moffat era, it's that he understood the value of careful plotting. Even though he didn't always follow his own rules — resulting in a sizeable handful of stories with ridiculously over-egged plots, enormous plot holes, or no detectable plot at all — at least you knew he was theoretically striving for a high bar. But his stories, too, often tended toward sentimentality, and worse — not to mention more peculiar, given his predilection for careful plotting — it often felt unearned. Then there was his tendency to script female characters who were notable for their siren effect on men, and sometimes (weirdly) borderline unlikeable to boot, which resulted in an era that struggled despite its clear desire to give marginalized groups a positive representation, even as it began to make significant strides toward that end in its twilight years.

So one thing that I find I'm already appreciating about the Chris Chibnall era, even though it's much too early to know whether these promising signs will last, is that so far, it seems to be the antithesis of all the things I didn't like about the RTD and Moffat eras. Whittaker's début story has a strong focus on relationships, with genuine emotional poignancy that's introduced subtly but effectively. The plot is pretty solid, with a good structure, a proper adversary, and few plot holes. Best of all, instead of hyperbole, the Chibnall era has thus far been delightfully quiet. If there are major surprises to come — and there are; we haven't even seen the new TARDIS interior yet — Chibnall and crew are staying mum. Not only have they not played up their episodes as "the most X yet", they've had a moratorium on spoilers. As a viewer who ideally prefers to go into an episode with absolutely zero preconceptions, I'm finding this really thrilling. I have no idea what's coming down the pike, and I love it.

Chibnall also scores major points from me for his continued commitment to diversity, building on the advances made in seasons 9 and 10. For goodness' sake, the main cast alone is a dream: we're no longer stuck in the days when a typical TARDIS team consisted of one white man and his white female assistant, who both speak in RP accents. We got some amazing mileage out of those days, and I cherish the performances they gave us, but it thrills me to my core that Doctor Who is expanding what it can be and who it can speak for. Not only does a female Doctor provide a new and glorious potential role model for little girls (and boys), but it broadens the types of stories that can be told. The same goes for our companion roster, which features an exciting mix of ethnicities, genders, and ages. For starters, the roles of the older white male Doctor and his young white female assistant are reversed; this time it's the white male assistant who's helping the brilliant white female Doctor, and he looks to be almost twice her age, which not only opens up the possibility for interesting inversions in a typical power relationship, but also provides for fantastic story opportunities featuring a companion who's older than the norm. Doctor Who has long been shy about including a companion who's older than mid-30s at the very most, but after the success of audio-only Dr Maggie Stables and one-off companions Adelaide Brooks and Wilf Mott, it's about time we had an over-50 companion full-time. We also have our second-ever black male companion — and reading the reactions of dyspraxic fans online, finally seeing themselves reflected in a television character, nearly brought me to tears — plus, in a very very long-overdue moment, our first-ever companion of south Asian descent. Honestly, with British Pakistanis making up nearly 2% of the UK's population, and especially since Ace became such an outspoken anti-racism mouthpiece in Doctor Who of the late '80s, proudly befriending and defending Manisha and Shreela and Shou-Yuing, I've been waiting for this moment to finally arrive. I just can't adequately express how thrilled I am that white, black, and south Asian men and women across the age spectrum, plus people with dyspraxia, now have an audience identification figure among the main cast. Long may it continue and grow! (We still need a companion of east Asian background one of these days, after all.) I can't wait to see what kinds of stories this new cast inspires the writers to tell.

And that's another area in which Chibnall has won me over: his commitment to diversity behind the camera as well. Among our five new writers, we have two women — becoming only the tenth and eleventh female writers ever to author a Doctor Who script — including, for the first time ever, one black woman; and of the three men, one is our first-ever writer of South Asian descent. This is a lot of "first evers" for diversity in one episode, my friends! Better yet, out of five directors, four are not white men: two of our brand-new directors are women and one is a black man, and we've got one returning director of east Asian descent. Yet again, I find myself salivating at the thought of the fresh new story ideas that these writers will bring, and the different perspectives that the entire cast and crew will bring to the portrayal of those ideas. There's literally no series on television that's better-suited to tell stories that draw from every cultural and subcultural background imaginable, including extraterrestrial ones, and I hope that this time, Doctor Who finally takes full advantage of such a talented and diverse cast and writing team.

Also? I'm so sorry, Murray Gold, because I have truly loved some of your scores, but you all know I've been hankering for someone new to get a crack at the incidental music. I miss the days when episodes were scored by a rotating band of composing stalwarts, with the occasional newbie thrown in for good measure. That's how we got Mark Ayres, people! It keeps things fresh. So as awesome as it's been to have a single composer building up a library of familiar, emotional musical cues, I'm absolutely beside myself with delight that Chibnall has hired a new composer, Segun Akinola, for season 11. The jury is still out on how much I like Akinola's score — I seem to prefer music that asserts itself (assuming of course that it's appealing), whereas Akinola appears to subscribe to the effects mantra of "the best music is the music you don't notice" — but overall I'm optimistic. His music does fit the onscreen action really well, and it certainly didn't dampen the tension during the fraught chase scenes. But there were only a few moments where I thought "ooh, that sounds nice" — the deep thrum as the Doctor first sights the armoured alien, as the Doctor sets about rebuilding her screwdriver, and as Karl crawls across the crane arm — balanced against one "I'm not sure I like that" (the unsubtle, though appropriate, sampling of the Doctor Who theme over Jodie Whittaker's first appearance, which felt like a Keffesque move) along with a couple of sudden "shouldn't I have had noticed the music by now?" realizations.

Halfway through The Woman Who Fell to Earth, I wasn't really feeling the plot. Evidently I have a difficult time connecting with a story when I have no idea what's going on; but I was hanging on the characters' every word, and the unfolding story was intriguing enough to keep me guessing, so it had that going for it. But once it started coming together, and we began learning why everything was happening, I found I really liked it. Sure, it didn't blow my mind — it's not the most original plot, nor the most clever, nor the most memorable — but that's fine. The point of a premiere like this, I think, is to introduce the new characters more than anything, so a plot that's simpler, but still interesting, is a good way to leave more room for character development without selling the storyline short. Anyway, my lingering uncertainty was allayed when, following the reveal (in an unfortunately exposition-heavy, but entertainingly-written, scene) that the two aliens were actually on a hunt, the plot clicked into place and began making sense. I really liked the twist that Tim Shaw is bending the rules in order to win. Not only does that speed up the plot in an acceptable way, it also makes him just that bit more unsympathetic. (But must I really write his name that way? I feel it needs a more alien spelling, when not pronounced by the Doctor. In my mind, it is Tsim-shaa.)

The Stenza are an interesting new alien race, from a world of subzero temperatures (which they can wield as a weapon), with a rule of succession that forces a would-be king to complete a solo hunt in order to become the new leader. (Though, in truth, even without weapons or assistance, this doesn't seem like it would be a challenging hunt at all; not only is a human being no match for a Stenza warrior, but there's nobody else competing to find the target and win the leader's mantle first.) Here again, I found the monster to be not-very-compelling until he removed his faceplate, and revealed his intentions. Up until that point, I'd assumed that Tim Shaw was just some boring robot. Behind the mask, Samuel Oatley gives a menacing performance that really helps to flesh out Tim Shaw's character. I loved this line, in which his (evidently unfounded) overconfidence leads him to underestimate the Doctor: "Well done. Your tiny mind must be burning with such effort." Ha! (Is it horrible that, yet again, I see parallels between a Doctor Who villain — who masks his inadequacies by cheating for political gain — and current politics? See also the transparent diversonary tactic of "The creature is irrelevant." / "I don't think he is.")

The character design is great. In particular, I liked the hexagonal design of his faceplate, which implies an insectoid occupant. The facial prosthetic, too, is superb and convincing; I was curious to learn how exactly he embedded the teeth into his skin, but I really don't want to know, you know? It's a highly unsettling mask, and the human teeth were a great contrast with Tim Shaw's own pitted and dark-streaked teeth.

Karl started out as a fairly one-note, uninspiring character, more of a mirror of Graham's unsuitability as a companion than anything else. But then we actually get to spend more time with him, and we discover that he's a rather sweet guy, hoping for love and trying to attract it with self-help positivity. He seems a bit hapless but, thanks to Jonny Dixon's performance, the charming kind of hapless. Loved Dixon's delivery of "What?!" (when the Doctor asks if he's been implanted with a bomb too)

Rahul was a nice red herring; at first, I assumed he was some kind of shadowy government operative, so imagine my surprise when he turned out to be an ordinary guy hell-bent on revenge, yet still quaking with childhood fear, over the kidnapping of his sister. He's basically Mulder, with all of the impetuous gusto but none of the nine lives. (I mean, really, how did poor Rahul think he was going to survive this encounter armed with just a crowbar?) The moment we learn that he's trying to rescue his sister, he turns from a potentially threatening character into an endearing one.

So I'm getting the impression, to my incalculable surprise, that "endearing" is one of Chibnall's talents. I would never have guessed it of Mr "42", but the man has a way with character. In two short lines, he made me terrified that grandfatherly security guard Dennis was about to die... and then heartachingly mournful when my worst fears were realized. (AND THEN HE KILLED GRACE, THE MONSTER.)

Everal Walsh beautifully acted his few lines as poor doomed drunken Gabriel, foolishly discarding the only healthy elements of his late-night doner kebab, then even more foolishly pitching them at Tim Shaw's faceplate, with the hilarious challenge: "Eat my salad, Halloween!" (Gabriel, evidently, is a funny drunk.) No, you eat your salad, Gabriel, it's good for ya. You'll be glad for those vitamins when oh never mind you're dead. Sniffle.

I have nothing but praise for the effects this week. The gathering coils, which at first I thought was kin to the scribble monster from Fear Her, is extremely creepy as it approaches through the darkness of the train, just a hint of tentacled movement visible every time the lights flash. The phrase that came to mind was that it looked like a roiling nest of worms (if worms lived in nests, and if worm-nests could be said to "roil"). Superb effect whenever it loses cohesion, too. The vase-like design of the travel pod is cleverly original, an indefinable mixture of organic and mineral, and it looks really cool as cold vapour leaks out the glowing cracks. I also loved the cool, but probably-mercifully brief, effect of Tim Shaw starting to melt. (Is it possible that he survived that?! Surely not, unless teleporting resets your DNA as in certain Star Trek episodes.)

One of my favorites, though it turns out to be fairly nonsensical, is the nifty floating configuration of rotating concentric squares. Mysterious extradimensional patterns always makes me think of Lovecraft, plus so pretty! All glowy and appealingly-geometric. Sadly its appearance is never adequately explained; Ryan seems to think that by touching it, he summoned the travel pod, but that doesn't make sense. The Stenza know where Earth is, because they've hunted there before, so they don't need anyone to guide them in. What, are we supposed to believe that the pretty glowing squares appear in the forest for a minute per day, just waiting to see if someone touches them? So that the Stenza know whether the Earth is still inhabited or something? (Speaking of which, how fortunate that their square extrusion happened upon Ryan, one of those people who just can't resist touching mysterious objects. Hopefully this experience will have cured him of that impulse before his future travels with the Doctor prove what a fatal decision it could be. Has he not seen The Green Death?!?)

Jamie Childs' direction starts series 11 off on a confident, stylish footing. I can't say that it blew me away, exactly, but it's very solid, and gives the episode an almost cinematic feel. I loved all the establishing shots of Sheffield: the gorgeous view from the top of the cliff, the steep terrace-lined street, the panning shot over the football stadium, and the backdrop of the city behind the Doctor as they chat outside Ryan's home. The forest glade where Ryan finds the travel pod is absolutely stunning, too; might have to visit it one day.

It's certainly been a while since we've seen an episode that didn't feature the TARDIS; and we've hardly ever had a story with no title credits! Part of me is bursting with barely-suppressed frustration that these two delights have thus far been denied me, but the rest of me is rather tickled that Chibnall is doling these pleasures out to us sporadically. I really thought we'd at least get a glimpse of the new TARDIS interior by the story's end, but now I wonder if Chibnall is setting us up for a season-12-style arc? There's some fun potential in that idea, though it's also possible that the TARDIS will turn up next week, hanging out on whichever planet the Doctor and her friends wind up on, once they escape from that rather brilliant cliffhanger. Either way I feel sure that the new credits will be unveiled next week (and I understand that the new theme is already up on YouTube, but so far I'm being good and waiting to hear it — and view it — in situ).

I must say, though, I was not so fond of watching this on BBC America. I love that they're airing a global simulcast — thank you! — but apparently since I watched the 2005 season on CBC, I've gotten unused to commercial interruptions! I do not want my Doctor Who momentum to be derailed by an ad for Subaru! Plus, you know... Verizon x2, Domino's Pizza x2, The Walking Dead, Venom, FedEx x2, Charles Schwab, Nestle Toll House chips x2, Dynasties x3, Bad Times at the El Royale, Audi, Wendy's x2, SafeAuto, Xfinity, Ameritrade, Doritos x2 (though this, at least, was a cute and relevant time-machine commercial), Lexus, Killing Eve, Comcast Business x2, First Man, Heineken x2, Sprint, 23andme, The X-Files x2 (okay, that one's fine), Trulicity, Jeep x2, The Graham Norton Show, Kia, Geico, GOLO.com, a glimpse of NerdWallet.com, L'Oreal, Outlander season 4 (okay, I want to see that), Orphan Black (mmmm), Subaru, iPhone XS Max, Taco Bell, IBM, Allstate, Uber (who knew they had TV commercials?!), Dodge, Men's Wearhouse, Allegra-D x2, Selsun Blue x2, Esurance, Tell Me A Story, Volkswagen Atlas, Crest, and CAT machinery, across seven commercial breaks! Not to mention two spoilery flash-forwards which as I'm sure you can imagine is a major pet peeve of mine. I might have to write an angry letter if this relationship with BBC America is going to continue. (After all, I complained when UPN was showing spoilery flash-forwards of Nowhere Man, and that worked!) Thankfully, at least, they didn't cut any footage (despite the later airing of an "extended" version, in which "extended" apparently meant "extra interviews"), which was my main fear.

Minor points:

To sum up: Jodie Whittaker might be one of the Doctoriest Doctors who's ever Doctored, and her deliveries alone are going to have me hanging on every line. Yaz wins the award for the most promising companion thus far, but to my surprise and delight, Ryan isn't far behind. Graham lags far in the distance, just as he does when monsters are near, but I have hope that we're being set up for a dramatic redemptive character arc. And Chris Chibnall shows far more promise than I had dared hope, scripting a season opener that has a pretty cohesive plot, emotional heft, engaging character development, and not a single cringeworthy plot element or line of dialogue to be found. All in all, a very auspicious start to a history-making era of Doctor Who.

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