“I’m smiling here, 20 light years from home”

“Okay, I have questions”

Another week, and another thickening of those classic Doctor Who vibes. three episodes in, Series 10 seems a completely different beast to the one show-runner Steven Moffat steered through impenetrable plot tangles just four series ago.

Early days it may be, but it still manages to have shot light years beyond Series Nine. Although that series had untangled itself from the Eleventh Doctor’s peak, it was happy to addle the series with nonsense and constant comedic potshots at the show’s history. Hiding out on Karn, giving Davros eyes, exiling Rassilon, killing and reanimating the Mistress without reason… It parodied itself as much as it overcooked the science-fiction across two-parters, all of which made for quite a satisfying, if brief, and unsustainable year.

Series 10’s more grown-up approach is showing it up. Taking its time to introduce a companion who has no preconceptions or secret past, apparently, it’s given characters old and new time to breathe. And to some extent, it’s wound down the plots and inherent silliness to let the characters and spectacle shine. In a show as expansive as Who, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The adventures that have pitted this new TARDIS crew against emergent oil, emergent robots and emergent slave fish haven’t the unpredictability or scope of Series Nine’s Under the Lake or The Zygon Invasion. But in return, this year has so far produced a far more referential sequence that recalls and repeats the approach of Russell T Davies’s early years. And the nods don’t end there. It’s managing soft, subtle and refreshing references to the show’s classic years in a way that’s so far seemed impossible under Moffat’s watch.

But while grades are up in almost every area, the crucial plots are Series 10’s elephant on the ice. As Bill’s introduction extends to three episodes, it’s a risk that will soon be exposed. Thin Ice is wonderfully paced, structured, and packed with superb dialogue and classic Doctor Who moments. But its central concept isn’t original in the show’s heavy history. Last week’s Smile may have fudged its closing lines to far greater detriment, but while that was a semi-sequel to the fifth series’ The Beast Below, Thin Ice is in many ways a superior, period remake of that same 2010 adventure.

But just as Smile was more about the build up to and implications of its less than satisfactory resolution, so Thin Ice is less about the bloody great serpent lurking at on the bed of the Thames than the superb characterisation and ethical debate sparkling above it. In the best tradition of the series, there may be a monster underneath the TARDIS crew, but there’s an all too horrible human element behind it. An that’s handled brilliantly. Fortunately, Thin Ice is another winner in a series that could have fluffed its lines as it put a huge emphasis on the new companion.

Bill

“Are their side effect to time travel, like physical symptoms”

Thin Ice may prove to be the definitive part of Bill’s entrance , pulling her into the ethics and morality of travels with the Doctor while side-stepping the clash with some of the previous episode’s dark dimensions. She has, after all, seen a great deal of death by now.

Sarah Dollard didn’t have the easiest entry to writing Doctor Who, killing off the Doctor’s longest serving companion. In spite of being hamstrung by the build-up to the Series Nine finale, Face the Raven was a wonderfully written, beautifully staged slice of Who. And Thin Ice, finds her doing much the same from the opposite direction: the more comfortable but no less complex perspective of introducing a companion.

While Bill’s reaction to a (quite horrific) death is a little too fast, a little too strong, a little distracting in view of the potential girlfriend she’s lost and crumbling skeletons she’s found in recent weeks, the script does make an effort to explain it. throughout, the script and a gift to Pearl Mackie and Peter Capaldi as they build one of the most promising relationships in the show’s history. Yes, writer Sarah Dollard manages to pitch some exquisite moments into a monstrous tale that shows up countless similar attempts to do the same over the previous decade. That betrays her deep love and grasp of the show’s central essence as much as she proves herself, against some stiff competition, one of the Twelfth Doctor’s greatest writers.

Direct questioning

“Theoretically, I could steal anything”

There’s shouting in this, direct questions, a spotlight on the Doctor as bodies and threat mount up. Pearl Mackie is quite captivating at every stage of the range this throws up. From wide eyed wonder to pained disbelief, from tearful realisation to the look she gives the Doctor while he reads some street urchins a bedtime story — just one scene that leaves a greatly layered texture. there is more on this Thin Ice than meets the eye.

As Bill’s foil, the proper, series essential balancing foil, Peter Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor pairs the quiet confidence that’s come as such a relief in the previous two episodes with manic scenes of pure irreverent, well, Doctorness. Dollard’s pen pushes the character more than many, but that unwavering Twelvishness remains. He truly has arrived.

The risk may be restricted by the setting, but the the Doctor’s character is pushed in Thin Ice — and he really quite light-fingered to go with it. While his precious, and rather obtrusive sonic screwdriver is put front, centre and in misdirection, Capaldi’s Doctor contnues to benefit from some space and some zinging lines. And the shadow of the Fourth Doctor has probably never been greater, particularly when he’s playfully mocking and questioning the overseer at the dockyards; flipping the ruse against the unwilling informant. The impressive part, that stays long after the end credits and the return to the mysterious vault is that there’s plenty of his own incarnation alongside (“Don’t be smug. Smug belongs to me”).

Even New Series Doctor Who can never solely present a companion’s show when it’s on top form, and the Doctor glimmers here. “Don’t tell me, you’ve moved” says Bill in mild disgust. “I’m 2,000 year’s old and I’ve never had time for the luxury of outrage” replies the Doctor. Not quite true, but what a line.

And as for the Doctor’s speech against the unscrupulous, aristocratic villain who might possibly have been weakened by being more explored? Well, the Third Doctor may have wiped the floor with him a little bit more, but the “Human progress isn’t measured by industry” compassion is one of the show’s great speeches, generally measured in comparison to the Fourth’s “What gives me the right?” moment in 1974.

In amongst the derring-do, the plan, the action, the danger and the wonder there’s perhaps one misstep. The Doctor’s insistence that Bill gives him an order on behalf of her race may well be part of this companion’s journey, but it grates.

Setting the structure

Dollard’s real contribution above and beyond that sparkling dialogue is the beautifully pitched structure she imposes. It’s rugged and assured, every bit of it feeding into the story. When she relocates the TARDIS from the frosted Thames to a bridge, mildly cheating the impact of the previous week’s cliff-hanger, its deft and without clumsiness. Most importantly it allows Bill to set one hesitant foot on the ice just as Londoners did over 200 years ago. To match that wonder, the production rises to the occasion.

Regent

“It’s just time travel”

There’s a reason Doctor Who returns to the Victorian era again and again. It just fits. The fast-bubbling Empire, the authority and injustice, the rise of science and industry, the glorious potential for steampunk and all manner of inspirations for the Doctor, from great explorers to great detectives. Skip forward a few decades though, and the Regency period is as unexplored in the annals of Who as it is in much television fiction. The BBC’s had great success digging into the period on Saturdays earlier this year with Taboo. And just like that series, the concepts of Empire and capitalism are at the heart of Thin Ice. With just slightly less swearing.

Inevitably, the thinly veiled exploration of slavery and finance hark back to some of Who’s classic adventures, from Daleks to The Sunmakers. That latter Fourth Doctor story may remain the show’s great exploration of money, at the pen of arch-scribe Robert Holmes, but it suffered notorious location shooting issues. Those kinds of issues could never affect the New Series, least of all an episode as sumptuous as this.

Packing out the ice

While the previous two episodes were noticeably cast-light, this wonderfully reconstructed Thames is packed with people, and ready to amaze. The first 10 minutes are handed to the TARDIS crew so they can explore the fair, tackle the pardoxical potential of time travel, and just have fun in their mercantile surroundings, It’s a struggle to think if the series has done that since Series Seven’s The Rings of Akhaten. It does wonders, pulling out the strange wonders of the frost fairs that disappeared in 1814, while barely detracting from the flow of the plot. The episode’s date, the final day of a frost fair (not just one day before the thaw, but the last until the present day) is crucial. The reason for their disappearance is at the crux of the plot, but there’s no rush to get there. As the Doctor says, “You were enjoying yourself. I assumed we’d get to work eventually”.

Chained up

“Slavery is still totally a thing”

That the creature trapped for generations under the Thames is responsible for the freezes, along with the pilot fish that handily alert us and the characters to the underlying danger, is the weakest part of the story although there’s much to make up for it.

The implication is that TARDIS has redirected the Crew to 1814 to tackle an injustice. It’s that hidden Quantum Leap thread little used, or overused, by the show depending on your perspective. Under the Thames is an enslaved sea monster, exploited for the fuel it produces from eating humans. But of course, such an enterprise is laced with layers to draw out. Above the water is the real implication of human slavery, a reality Dollard takes on with wry realism (“So was Jesus, history’s a whitewash”), as much as face thumping justice (“He was trying to be charming”). There’s no skirting around the issue and Thin Ice doesn’t baulk at moments of surprising horror – from the entitled aristocrat villain irrationally screaming at Bill to the sudden death of a child – to underpin the facts. That there are gorgeous sequences like the diving suit excursion, beautifully filmed, unnaturally captured in Southwark and some great CGI, to go with it is even more impressive.

Reaching back

“I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. These are stolen”.

Thin ice recalls many stories, from the crew’s odd companion irregulars dining in a great house, like the war urchins in The Empty Child to the crew being tied up — how long has it been since that happened?

Comparisons with The Crimson Horror are obvious, the last but one time the show landed near this period, but they highlight Thin Ice’s strength. Mark Gatiss’ Victorian story was good fun, but as enjoyable as it was, mainly style over substance as it sunk under its genre homages. In Dollard’s tale, the references are lighter, and the route to villain that comes later than many New Series stories is far more gratifying. The villain is able to relish his one dimensional arrogance in that constrained structure, refreshingly free of being an alien after some earlier red herrings. It also means his dispatch, not un-contrived, doesn’t jar with the build up.

“She’s a bad girl this one, always looking for trouble”

Next week we head into back to the haunted house that made Moffat’s name on the show. Three episodes in, there’s every reason to be hopeful. Thin Ice found and exploited some elements of the time travel conundrum previously untouched in the New Series, but also cement the new TARDIS crew in its 50 minutes — Nardole accepted. The Doctor has a new conscience in his two companions… So, now the great introduction is complete, it’s the perfect time to dig into just what makes Bill Potts tick. In her own time, of course.

Stunning moment

“You know what I like about humanity? It’s optimism”

It may make little sense, but the child pic-pockets death was chilling in many senses. The small arm left above the ice is a horrific image. It had to be shocking to prompt Bill’s reaction, but all the worse with the Doctor’s two-handed dash for his precious sonic screwdriver and immediate confession that he can’t do anything. That’ll stay with you.

Everyday hook of the week

I’ll have to unstrap my skates and ignore the Frost Fair; a common enough occurrence in London for a few hundred years of a mini-Ice Age, but impossible today. Fuel markets, climate change, it’s all here. But here the ethical weight hinges around those ever-present issues of greed and privilege. I mean, someone exploiting a massive fortune from actual, as Bill would put it, “sh…”

Doctor look of the week

“Can you hear that?” As Bill marvels at the alien/not alien sea serpent’s escape, the Twelfth insists on a serious, impassive disinterest. Belligerently uninterested in any excitement. It’s that other Doctor look — you know, the one opposed to the gurning emotion some times displayed by this incarnation but far more common in his Eleventh or Tenth bodies. Brilliant.

Production touch of the week

Perhaps either of the Doctor’s hats would be enough. There just aren’t enough hats in Doctor Who. Other than that, the entire set. Last time Sarah Dollard wrote ‘ext’ in a script, the resulting and rather fetching set of Trap Street found its way into The Husbands of River Song and even Russell T. Davies A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Here’s hoping this one doesn’t, or if so, it’s disguised by some directorial work as good as Bill Anderson’s in this.

A Jokerside view

Whatever the Thames that giant alien serpent is — no, really, does it matter if it’s alien or not — I can only hope it headed straight up to the Highlands and Loch Ness. It takes time to set up a party befitting the Zygons’ Skarasen, due in 160 years or so, and the Borad, whenever he deigns to turn up… Unbelievable, there wasn’t a reference…

Verdict

“Despair, loneliness, a prisoner in chains” — that’s the sorry centre to a glowing story. There’s an immense Christmas vibe to Thin Ice, and that isn’t just the fair and frozen water. It’s the feel of a special. It tackles spectacle, contemporary issues and and morality — from the ‘good guys constant five-fingered discounts, to the privileged discrimination and exploitation on the bad. It’s quintessential Who, but that also comes to bear on its traditionally undercooked aristo-villain.

February 4th 1814 done. Superbly done. From the show’s natural obsession with death to historical adventure to ethics to the changing of time past. And all without the slightest mention of “Timey-Wimey”.

Review previously published on Medium (May 7, 2017)