Geronimo!
The Time of Angels is an episode with elegant structure, created by a writer in control of his craft. You can see what Moffat is trying to do in this one: manipulate our fears with horror tropes, and to reprise the most popular elements of both
Blink and
Silence in the Library. He himself compared
Blink and
The Time of Angels with
Alien and
Aliens, and
Silence shares
Bernice Summerfield clone River Song, a "largest library [museum] in the universe," and its plot with this week's enterprise. I respect the master's parallels and his artistry, but I suspect his motives.
The Time of Angels is a cynical creation, like a "Best of" CD released by the band itself.
A return of the popular weeping angels was inevitable, but are these really the same monsters that made their original episode so memorable? Moffat takes them out of context (the overgrown garden and cemetery of Blink) and gives them an arsenal of new abilities: being able to climb out of images, lock doors telekinetically, get into your head through the eyes, make lights flicker, and most confusingly, "reanimate a version of someone's consciousness" in order to speak with their voice and personality. Giving such a plethora of powers to a monster makes them hard to second-guess. This is a bad thing because it makes it impossible to estimate the menace of the angels. The analogue here is the Doctor's sonic screwdriver, a magic wand that has unspecified abilities. When Amy is locked in the container by the angel, the two come into conflict: the screwdriver can't cut the power to the video inside because of the angel's ability to produce "deadlock force." Magic versus magic like this becomes a suspenseless battle solved only by the whimsy of the plot. It's suspenseless because we can't guess what the outcome might be or be surprised by it.
Like the mechanical faces in
The Beast Below, a lot of the horror in this episode comes from the inert, scowling faces of the monster. It's very effective "
nightmare fuel," and the many angels the party must face
should have multiplied their threat, like Aliens did for Alien, but Moffat necessarily has to water them down because he's given them too much power. This army of angels is, conveniently, slower and essentially zombielike. They're also far less horrific for it.
What gets me is that I can really see what Moffat is trying to do here. The angels' ability to come out of an image is a very clever scare tactic that targets everyone watching the episode that very moment. The voice of Dead Bob over the radio is the definition of a ghost, but was it ever considered that it might ruin the angels' creepy, inscrutable silence? (Perhaps Bob would have been more effective if he had remained alive; the accusation "you made me trust you and you let me down" would have had more weight coming from a
real person.) The flickering of the soldiers' lights is a classic horror device, but it feels pilfered from
Silence in the Library and was perhaps not necessary at all to heighten their menace. In comparison, the cave hunt in the original series episode
Earthshock lacks many of these devices, but is more horrific; in it, soldiers with a scanner above ground watch helplessly as the heat signatures of their comrades wink out rapidly onscreen.
Moffat's dialogue is as strong as ever, when the characters aren't just babbling. "Blimey, your teeth - have you got Space Teeth?" is part of a precious scene when the Doctor bites Amy's hand to convince her it's not made of stone. Unfortunately, she's still relatively useless. Her one active moment in this episode, when it strikes her how to banish the angel from the container where she's trapped, is another example of the Sudden Realization Effect that plagues the show and her in particular. River Song assures her, "you're
good," but besides these convenient moments of genius, we see very little evidence of this. Amy mostly just tags along, soaks up exposition, and quips. The Doctor is well-performed, but there's nothing new in his role here. He just glides through, supremely confident that he's too much of a badass to get hurt. He claims at the end, "there's one thing you should never put in a trap… me." It's so hyperbolic that you almost root for a monster to humble him a little.
It's such a relief not to have to dedicate a huge part of the review to logic holes, but a few nag at me. Perhaps someone can put me straight about the following quibbles: why oh why were the angels at the end "trying to make him [the Doctor] angry??" Is there any conceivable reason why this might be a
good thing to do? Do they mock all of their victims, or just omnipotent Time Lords? Well, okay, whatever.
Secondarily, as experts, somewhat, on the subject of the weeping angels (in the sense that they have a book about them inconveniently written in riddles by a madman), what was the soldiers' plan to eliminate the single angel they expected to find? We find out that shooting at stone doesn't seem to do much of anything half way through the episode, so their plan seems to consist more or less of "bring the Doctor along on our headlong rush into terrible danger - maybe he'll think of something." Why do the weeping angels need this "defence mechanism" that turns them into stone when they're the "deadliest, most powerful, most malevolent life form evolution has ever produced?" [Have we ever heard that before in Doctor Who, hmm?] It seems more like their only weakness to me.
I'm getting carried away. I should have started with this episode's truly odd opening, but I still can't figure out what it's there for. The first scene is a dizzying shot of someone drugged in a sunny field. The first three lines, "it's a beautiful day," "hallucinogenic lipstick," and "she's here" give us the impression that this episode is going to be about River Song (far more than it is), and though colourful, the spinning shot of the drugged guard only confuses us when it turns out we're actually in a spaceship following a woman with a weird revolver/welder hybrid. Yes, we get a great crash into the credits, but the episode opened too early and too messy for it to matter much.
The pace of the episode accommodates clear peaks and valleys, but it still feels rushed. A two-parter of the new series inhabits roughly the same amount of time as a four-parter of the old, yet how it manages to seem more cramped and breathless is curious to me. Ironically, the hyperactive nature of the new series seems to truncate time and gives
The Time of Angels, at least for me, a sense of being shorter and smaller scale. A four-part episode of the original series would frequently have two or three times as many important characters, increasing the complexity of the story and giving it a depth of perspective that Nu Who has rarely reached for (
Human Nature has more major characters than usual and look at the difference in pace; and ironically, so does
Blink).
True conclusions about the story must wait until next week, but on the whole, I'm hoping for Flesh and Stone to take up one of the tattered themes of part 1: when Amy slyly picks on the Doctor for "running away from the future" near the beginning of the episode, my ears pricked. Could Nu Who actually be pursuing a metaphor, let alone one that applies to the Doctor, to Amy, and to
Doctor Who as a whole? For an episode deliberately steeped in mythology, notions of history, and religion (can it possibly be just a gimmick that we have Clerics hunting Angels?), all the next episode needs to become memorable is a little substance, from this idea or another.