It's almost a law of nature that any long-running television serial will face the problem of what to do about members of the regular cast who come and go. Too glib a disappearance—or indeed reappearance—can wreck a programme's reputation. Everyone remembers Dallas in 1986, when it turned out that the entire previous season of stories had been Pam Ewing's dream.
Doctor Who is no different, and its original series, which started in 1963, became more careless in this regard as time went on: while the first few companions were written out after falling in love, discovering means of return to their own home, being adopted by alien races as their ruler, or (in a couple of daring cases) killed off, it wasn't too long before regulars whose contracts had expired started popping off to the countryside for a quick break from which they never reappeared. (And that is just the first Doctor's companions.)
New Who has placed a much greater burden on the audience's rapport with just two central characters—Billie Piper's Rose Tyler and the Doctor himself. The 2005 Christmas special had the difficult task of introducing David Tennant's tenth Doctor, in succession to Christopher Eccleston's superb reintroduction of the character to teatime audiences, and was sufficiently unsure of itself that it kept him asleep in bed for a large part of the somewhat rambling story.
The 2006 Christmas special had a somewhat easier job: Tennant had firmly established himself as an audience favourite during the year, handsomely winning a viewer poll as the best of the ten actors to play the role (which caused some grinding of teeth among us older fans, but let that be). Rose's departure gave the writers a chance to portray his Doctor meeting a potential replacement, but also meant that viewers would see the Doctor from a different perspective, Rose having been effectively the viewpoint character for the first two seasons.
Judged on that basis, as a segment of the Doctor's developing character arc, I think "The Runaway Bride" succeeded. Partly this was because the extra fifteen minutes of plot were used by writer and producer Russell T. Davies to balance frenetic action with pauses for reflection (say, on top of a skyscraper). Much also depended on well-known (to others, if not to me) comedian Catherine Tate, cast as one-off sidekick Donna Noble, snatched from the aisle on her wedding day and mysteriously materializing inside the TARDIS at the start of the episode.
Donna gives us an immediately different view of the Doctor. To her, the Doctor is a possible Martian, for whom being human is optional; a kidnapper whose "er, spaceship" is smaller on the outside than the inside (alone among Doctor Who characters, Donna sees its interior first); and a guy who sometimes makes so little sense that you just have to give him a slap (she hits him twice). By the end of the story, she has resolved not to go with him on his travels. Her treacherous fiance, Lance, was tempted by the opportunity to explore the universe; Donna prefers to stay at home.
Donna is herself one of the great Doctor Who creations: she missed the last two alien invasions of Earth (in "The Christmas Invasion" and "Doomsday") because she was variously hungover or scuba-diving in Spain. Compared by the Doctor to a 4H pencil, she has nagged her boyfriend into marriage, and her disappearance during the ceremony causes her family so little dismay that they go ahead with the reception without her; she spends much of the first part of the story simply yelling. David Tennant himself notes on the commentary track for the episode that "Donna is not the Doctor's normal choice of traveling companion."
Above all, Donna is funny. More, it must be said, in the sense that we laugh at her than with her. (She is gobsmacked that there is a secret base hidden underneath a major London landmark: "I know, unheard of!" replies the Doctor.) Yet it is more than just a comedic role, and Donna's grief at her betrayal by Lance—it turns out he only wanted her for her body, or rather for its usefulness to his real mistress—is poignant.
The episode's other lead character is the alien threatening destruction of the Earth, Sarah Parish's Spider Queen (as I must think of her; the official name of the character is the Empress of the Racnoss). I don't require much of my Doctor Who villains except that they snarl convincingly, and the Spider Queen does this to the tips of all eight legs—or was it ten? I lost count. In the end, the Doctor literally washes the spiders down the plug-hole, using the River Thames, and the Spider Queen is blown up by conventional weaponry (some fans grumbled at this intervention of state coercive power being untrue to Who, but we older types mutter about the Silurians and the Krynoid from the 1970s, similarly eliminated by the armed forces rather than by the Doctor).
Although the sequence is effective enough on first viewing, I have to say that on re-watching, some limitations become apparent. The scale of the costume means that the Spider Queen is unable to move from her spot—not a patch on Shelob from The Lord of the Rings, for instance—and the spider-children concealed at the center of the Earth, whose potential awakening and feeding (on humanity) is supposedly the core of the plot, are never themselves actually seen, presumably due to budget restrictions. Apart from this, however, the effects are convincing—the dawn of creation, witnessed by the Doctor and Donna, and the TARDIS chasing a taxi down the motorway being particularly memorable. Other chase sequences involving a bus and Donna's pink Smart Car were apparently cut (probably a good thing), though a sequence involving Segways was mysteriously retained. Even the spiders' lair is rather good. I'll also put a good word in for Murray Gold's score, particularly in contrast with some of the old Doctor Who stories ("The Three Doctors" and "Battlefield" come to mind).
As Donna runs from her own wedding reception, her mother asks her, "Who is he? Who is that man?" New Who has tended to opt for exploring character rather than plot, and although Donna's mother gets no reply, we learn more about the answer to her question by the end of the story. In particular, the Doctor becomes more and more a wizardly rather than scientific figure; indeed, with his glasses on and brandishing the sonic screwdriver as a magic wand, David Tennant begins to faintly resemble an older version of Daniel Radcliffe's Harry Potter. The sonic screwdriver works on cash machines, sound systems, and snowstorms, and the Doctor's pockets are bigger on the inside than the outside; however, the Doctor's biodamper ring is a less successful device, its failure perhaps mirroring the failure of Donna's wedding.
However, he has a much darker side: he is grieving for the loss of Rose (whose name, spoken for the first time, is the last word of the episode) and he is unmoved by the Spider Queen as he destroys the underground lair, or by Donna's entreaties for moderation. But when Donna, overwhelmed by the dawn of creation, mutters that "it puts the wedding in perspective," the Doctor responds with one of the best lines of the show: "The human race! You make sense out of chaos, marking it out with weddings and Christmas and calendars. The process is beautiful, but only if it's being observed." It is a line that reshapes Doctor Who's essential optimism about humanity, and also the Doctor's concern with the fate of individuals, shown again in his final instruction to Donna to "Be magnificent!"
"The Runaway Bride" nods to but is not overly burdened by Doctor Who's past. The spiders' lair had been taken over by them from the London branch of the Torchwood Institute, whose Cardiff offshoot is now the subject of a separate TV series. (Since "Torchwood" is famously an anagram of "Doctor Who," I was trying to make a decent anagram out of their front company in this episode, Donna's employer H.C. Clements, but all I can get is "Clench Stem" so I'd probably better stop.) The extrapolator gadget which saves the Doctor and Donna is a souvenir from the ninth Doctor's encounter with the Slitheen in Cardiff. Hardcore fans like me were very excited by the Doctor uttering the name of his home planet, Gallifrey; New Who has thrown away much of the burdensome continuity of the Doctor's people, the Time Lords, but informed speculation is that at least one of them will make a reappearance in 2007.
Christmas is a time of high expectations—perhaps only weddings (according to the Doctor, scenes of chemical warfare) come close. "The Runaway Bride" turns the familiar into a threat—killer Santas, exploding baubles, a spaceship shaped like the star from a Christmas tree. And families will have enjoyed the episode. I note its use of children—three in the wedding reception, two watching the motorway chase, one near the end threatened with death by laser, none of them speaking parts—and suspect it will have been much more successful at making the youngest viewers feel part of the action than Old Who's habit of dragging in child actors ever was. Above all there is a happy ending; the man with the magic screwdriver sees us right, all over in time for dinner.
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