Doctor Who Series 10 – A Review

Amidst all the insanity that surrounded the announcement that Jodie Whittaker would be the 13th Doctor (a woman! Shock! Horror!), I think a lot of people have forgotten about the astonishing Peter Capaldi and how amazing he was in his last series as the Doctor.


When he first regenerated, Peter’s Doctor was harsh, grumpy, uncaring, and seemingly cold-hearted. After the energy, warmth, humour and fun of the previous two Doctors, 12 was a bitter pill to swallow. I found the 8th series of Doctor Who pretty uninspiring – there was the odd shining star (Flatline and Mummy on the Orient Express) but the overwhelming feeling was one of apathy, disconnect, and a lack of the awe that the other incarnations of the Doctor all seemed to have for time and space travel. I definitely missed it.

Thankfully, this feeling improved in the 9th, and subsequently 10th series. No where is it more obvious than in Pilot and the next episode Thin Ice, where the Doctor actually has a reason to stay put on Earth, but he just can’t resist the call of his brilliant blue box and the adventures that await him in time and space. The awe was back, and so was the fun.

I think also this sense of fun had a lot to do with the new companion. Bill Potts was clever, intelligent, independent, and she didn’t let the Doctor pull one over on her. She was tough but she also knew her limitations. She reminded me so much of Donna Noble, my favourite companion. I also think Pearl Mackie and Peter had great chemistry together – they certainly felt like friends, which I think was missing with Peter and Jenna Coleman. Jenna’s character always felt more like a plot device than a fully fleshed person.

I think also the writing improved so much since the 8th series. Peter was finally given scripts that were worthy of his talent, and stories that allowed his Doctor to shine. He could make grand speeches and save the world from epic alien incursions without massive plot holes or magical sonic screwdriver waving.

Finally, the series finale two parter is definitely Stephen Moffat’s best. World Enough and Time was beautifully written sci fi; a supposedly deserted spaceship held in place by a black hole, with Bill stuck at the slow end, and the Doctor at the other. The ending was heartbreaking and perfectly set up the final episode.


The Doctor Falls was exactly what it promised, and Peter Capaldi was magnificent. From a character I had initially thought was cold and unfeeling, he was all heart. He stood tall amongst an army of cybermen and in the face of insurmountable odds. He cared about doing the right thing, about saving people, about fixing what Missy/The Master had broken. My Doctor was back!

All in all, I’m pretty happy to say that it was my favourite series since Matt Smith’s first series way back in 2010. I cannot wait to see how the 1st and 12th Doctors are going to be together in the Christmas episode – what an episode for a regeneration!


Art and Mental Illness

I’ve always had a fascination with Vincent Van Gogh.

I know, it’s a little obvious – everyone loves his paintings, and his tragically short life makes for a moving story. Self-harming at 36, ending his own life at 37 – all the while creating an amazing body of work that amounted to nothing during his lifetime. It’s incredibly sad, and it’s been the inspiration for countless artists and writers.

What fascinates me most about Vincent though is his bravery.

Vincent spent his entire life moving from one occupation to another, from one woman to another, never finding whatever it was he was searching for. He came by painting honestly – his mother was a painter of watercolours based on nature – but he never obtained any sort of fame or acknowledgment of his talent. He suffered his entire life from depression and what we now know as Bi-Polar disorder, so any professional or personal set back hit him harder than most.

Despite all of this, despite never receiving anything remotely like positive feedback or celebration of his immeasurable talent, he continued to create.

To me, that’s incredibly brave. It takes a lot of heart to continue to pour so much of your soul, and so much effort, into something and receiving almost nothing in return. It takes a lot of bravery to continue to pursue art when so many have told you that what you’re producing isn’t good enough. When you’ve been told that you aren’t good enough. That definitely resonates with me.

As ever, his art seems like a compulsion.  He had all of these turbulent, violent emotions inside him and instead of raging at the unfairness of it all, he used them to create astounding works of beauty and colour. As a coping mechanism, it’s probably one of the best.

Recently I visited the Musee d’Orsay in Paris. There was a wonderful landscape exhibition near the entrance where a few of Vincent’s paintings were displayed alongside pieces from other artists like Paul Gauguin, Maurice Denis, Ferdinand Hodler, and Wenzel Hablik. Wandering around amongst the art, you couldn’t help but wonder what Vincent would make of it. His art had been belittled his whole life – would he be thrilled to finally have the recognition he deserved, or would he feel that his work wasn’t good enough to be presented alongside artworks from his more successful peers?

Whatever he might have thought, his Starry Night Over the River Rhone had pride of place in the centre of the exhibition, with every visitor stopping for as long as they could to take in what was, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful paintings in the entire building.

There’s a beautiful episode of Doctor Who entitled Vincent and the Doctor, where Amy and the Eleventh Doctor travel to rural France a year before Vincent’s death, to meet him. They find a brilliantly creative man prone to fits of violent emotion and deep despair, and take him into the future, to the Musee d’Orsay in the 21st Century, to show him how he’ll be remembered. It never fails to make me cry, but it also fills me with hope. It’s such a hopeful episode, and it’s everything that makes Doctor Who wonderful. What’s more, it’s a tiny window into what Vincent might have been like had his talent been celebrated like he deserved. It might not have changed anything for him. It might have made him a tad happier, or maybe a little braver in his choices.

In the end, Vincent was mentally ill. His mental illness was a huge part of him, and might have had a big impact on his art, or the way he created. Whether mental illness and creativity are linked is something often argued – in my experience, a creative person with a mental illness often uses their creativity as a coping mechanism and their illness as a motivator. With Vincent, the two are inexplicably linked.