With Asylum being as good as it was and Dinosaurs being such a disapointment, I figured it was time to reflect on the last six seasons of Doctor Who with my top five single episodes. A top five two-parters and top five classic stories will come at a later date, since they're all so differently paced I feel it unfair to group them all together.
So without further ado...
5.
Dalek. Season 1, episode 6.
There's precious little to like in the first series of the revived show. Eccleston gives the show his all but out of thirteen episodes there are only three genuinely good ones, and two of those make up one story. The other one is, of course, Robert Shearman's
Dalek; an episode to be praised on not only telling a decent story but on telling its audience exactly what this show is capable of. For it's true; what type of show Doctor Who was was still in question after the first few episodes, but
Dalek was here to say that you don't need to pander to the younger audience with burping bins and farting Slitheen, that the show survived for over twenty years in keeping the fun, the drama and the scares on equal footing.
In many ways this is the first real episode of the revived
Doctor Who, and what better way to give birth to the series than by bringing in the most iconic and the most feared of all the Doctor's adversaries. But there's a twist to
Dalek, because however merciless and menacing this creature of Skaro first appears, by episode's end we're actually starting to feel for it, whilst the Doctor himself is now shown in a much darker light. As true to the classic characters as this episode is, it does an outstanding job of reinventing them at the same time, drawing upon the parallels between the two to present equal sides of the same coin. Here, both Doctor and Dalek are victims of the Time War, where both believe themselves to be the very last of their respective species, whose only goal now is to survive the only way they know how. Eccleston is top of his game here, and though we saw precious little of the Ninth Doctor this episode stands as a shining beacon as to who he was.
4. Vincent And The Doctor. Season 5, episode 10.
There's an ongoing trend in Doctor Who in which the Doctor meets esteemed figures from Earth's past, but more often than not the episodes can never quite work out what they want to be, often favouring the monster of the week over the figure themselves and resulting in a disjointed mess. Dickens, Shakespeare and Agatha Christie all had their shot under Russell T Davies' tenure, but all that we remember about the episodes are witches, giant wasps and endless Harry Potter references. When Richard Curtis came on board to tell us a tale of Vincent van Gogh, however, he tried a different tactic: let the episode focus on the man, not the monster.
If there's one underlining strength behind Vincent it's that the episode is refreshing. It feels both natural and brand new at exactly the same time; for what Curtis, an esteemed writer but not of science-fiction, has delivered here is an outsiders perspective, and one that really helped distinguish the shows new direction under head writer Steven Moffat. Vincent isn't for everyone, but Doctor Who has thrived on being the show that can be absolutely anything, and for one week only here Curtis broke the rules and did things his way. On one level Vincent is just another monster of the week episode, but here the monster is so connected to van Gogh's madness that it becomes a part of the character. The whole episode is a heartbreaking portrait of an entirely different type of mad man than we're used to, and it's hard not to look back and think it's exactly what The Shakespeare Code or The Unicorn And The Wasp needed to be. Sure the Doctor breaks his own rules by taking Vincent to witness his legacy at the end, but through Murray Gold's rousing score and Tony Curran's sterling performance it's hard not to be taken in by it.
3. The Girl In The Fireplace. Season 2, episode 4.
If there's something guaranteed to split the fanbase in two it's the subject of the Doctor and love. Is the Doctor completely asexual or is he, like anyone else, capable of falling in love? It's a fair question, since the closest a classic series Doctor came to romance was a confused kiss between the Eighth Doctor and one-time-companion Grace Holloway in the TV movie. If the revived series has taught us anything, however, it's that the Doctor can, indeed, fall in love, or is at least capable of romantic feelings. Yet the doomed relationship with Rose Tyler or impromptu marriage to River Song aside, the Doctor's most genuine - and most tragic - love story came early on in the Tenth Doctor's tenure, after a happenstance meeting with Madame de Pompadour.
The first story penned by Steven Moffat since his highlight of the first series,
The Empty Child/
The Doctor Dances,
Fireplace is a fine example of what makes Doctor Who so unique and endearing and truly stamped Moffat's name as one of the greatest writers in the shows long history. This is a boy meets girl story, but in true
Who fashion this is boy meets girl through a time window to 18th century france on a 51st century spaceship, where girl is being haunted by clockwork killers. As weird as this all sounds, however, we never question what's happening for a second; A well-paced script mixed with fine performances from Tennant and Sophia Myles sell the relationship while the clockwork killers remain some of the scariest and most beautifully designed monsters the show has ever produced. If there's one flaw to
Fireplace - aside from the one sequence involving a horse, a mirror and questionable CGI - it's that the episode focusses too much on the Doctor's love story and sidelines the two companions; one of whom is experiencing his very first trip in time and space and should maybe be given more to do. It's a small point to make, however, in an otherwise all-round solid episode and a highlight of the second series.
2. A Christmas Carol. 2010 christmas special.
Doctor Who was going from strength to strength under Moffat's reign in series five. Succeeding where Russell T Davies usually failed he rounded out an engaging first year with a spectacular season finale, with drama, comedy and as many twists and turns as one could possibly hope for. The ultimate test, however, was the christmas special, which we all looked forward to every year but more often than not came away sorely disappointed. Be it Titanic in space or giant Cybermen in Victorian London, Davies' specials were disjointed mess after disjointed mess; bigger for the sake of bigger, with their only link to christmas being repeated use of robot Santas and deadly spinning christmas trees.
Moffat, thankfully did away with all that. Gone were the extravagant action sequences and cheap, christmas monsters; this was Dickens meets Star Trek by way of Jaws, in a suitably outlandish retelling of A Christmas Carol, Doctor Who style. This is a fine example of everything coming together when it needs to. Michael Gambon leads an all round stellar cast, the script, direction and production design are all on top form and Murray Gold is, as always, unbeatable. As quirky, beautiful and heartbreaking as one could hope for, this is the first - and going off last years unremarkable outing, only - christmas special to feel both christmassy and special. One to be enjoyed time and time again.
1.
Blink. Season 3, episode 10.
This one was a given, wasn't it? Constantly topping fans lists of the best New Who episodes or all time greats,
Blink is proof that the show is loved for so much more than just a mad man with a box. For it's true, the Doctor himself is given remarkarbly little do to here, and though his few scenes are nothing if not memorable (this is where "wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff" was first uttered) they are just one small part of an episode that is so wonderfully simple in premise yet stuffed full of comedy, charm and, yes, scares a plenty.
If there's one stand-out aspect to
Blink it's the Weeping Angels; simple and inventive, they're proof that the scariest monsters aren't ones that might "exterminate" or "delete" but merely deprive us of our simple, human instincts: in this case, blinking. If you look at them, they're stone, but if you blink... And even here Moffat shows his unique brilliance, because if the Angels touch you you don't instantly die as one might expect, instead they zap you back in time and let you live to death instead.
But as wonderful as the Angels are, they're matched by an immensely strong script. As finely paced as you could possibly expect, it never drags and is never rushed; and in less than forty-five minutes Moffat crafts characters that are more developed and more relatable than any that have come before, including full time companions. The roguish charm of Billy Shipton or the loveable naivety of Larry Nightingale; the star, however, is Sally Sparrow, brought to life by a then-unknown Carey Mulligan she's a heroin that is so instantly likeable, engaging and
real, not a caricature that is befitting of so many of the Doctor's female acquaintances. If there's one downside to the episode it's that we never got to see more of these characters, though Sally and Larry are something of a prototype to Amy and Rory, and the tease of the new companion in
Asylum Of The Daleks has proven Moffat is not done with giving his women memorable personas.
So there we have it. That's my top five, at least for now. Other considerations would be
The Eleventh Hour, which I absolutely adore but it's too easy to have all top five be Moffat episodes;
Utopia, which stands out on its own but is let down by the episodes that follow and
The Doctor's Wife, which, while good, I've never quite warmed to as much as others have.