The State of Things, aka. a Doctor Who fan's complaint.
Look, I am entirely cognizant of the hullabaloo with the Moff cancelling his Twitter, so allow me to get this clear: I am NOT hating on him personally. I have nothing but respect for the work he has done with Sherlock. I just don't agree with what he's done with Doctor Who, and that is a matter of difference in opinion, not a slur on his personality.
So, with that out of the way, let me just say... I entered the Moffat era with high hopes. A good friend of mine got me into this fandom circa the time David Tennant's doctor regenerated, so I was used to the quality of adventure and character development in Russell T. Davis' DW. Despite this (and my heartbreak when Ten had to go), I couldn't wait to see what the new producer had to offer, and the announcement of Matt as Eleven only further encouraged my hopes and curiosity.
I think things started off well. I liked The Eleventh Hour, and The Beast Below, and Vincent and the Doctor. I liked Amy's sexy pizazz and the new Doctor's quirky kind of naivete. I even liked Rory's dopey, mooning personality.
What I didn't like, however, were how most of the stories were structured. It felt more like I was sitting here having (epic and cinematic, I concede) ideas chucked at me in quickfire succession, rather than watching characters I cared about grow and react to each other. Because of this, many episodes left me feeling cold and empty; apart from the Inception/Looper-esque mind-bending timey-wimey-ness (which, let's face it, is more confusing and thought-discouraging than thought-provoking), I felt the show had no central tenant or great, humanistic message. I didn't feel like the show was about companionship, or honour, or kindness. Perhaps they were there, just drowned out by the three-ring circus of people proclaiming their own genius in writing the show. I don't know.
To be fair, some themes were blatantly obvious, such as love and growing up. In my own opinion, though, you'd be hard-pressed to find a single show that doesn't proclaim how wonderful and all-defeating love is. Yes, love is important. But you'd think a show as culturally definitive and timeless as Doctor Who would have more than just people mooning over each other in it. As for growing up, I have to be brutally honest and say it was poorly depicted and represented. People experience things, cognitively and emotionally process them, and provide reactions. In Moffat's DW, this process seems to be cut short somewhere between experience and reaction, so the character's actions seem somewhat disjointed, and the growing up is done in fragments and pieces that are difficult to put together.
Three examples of these are Amy's reaction to the Doctor's return after "abandoning" her as a twelve-year-old, her reaction to having River taken from her, and her behaviour when meeting River thereafter,
Imagine you are a child. Someone you greatly admire takes care of you, promises to come back, and leaves you for ages and ages. You are sent to psychiatrists and grow up having to deal with the stigma of being a bit of a nutjob. And then, he comes back and expects you to ditch your fiancé and travel with him alone. How would you react?
a) You doubt him at first, but once you see how much trouble he is, you decide to travel with him.
b) Are you kidding me, he ruined my childhood, created one helluva abandonment issue, made me and everyone around me doubt my sanity, and then comes back telling me what to do, and wants me to travel with him? Like, what if he leaves me again, on some alien planet?
I don't know, Amy just strikes me as being remarkably well-adjusted and trusting adult, even capable of forming long-lasting, non-clingy, and non-walled-off relationships, considering the shit she was put through as a child.
What of River? Have you seen how mother animals react when you try to take their young? They go batshit crazy. And hey, my own mother's a pretty chill person, but I tell you if someone tried to take a day-old me away from her, it would not have been okay with her. But the way Amy reacted... she was utterly detached, even when Madame Kovarian forcefully wrenched the baby from her very arms. No tears. No hysterics. Nothing. Just solid belief in her very human, very mistake-prone fiancé Despite the after-birth hormones and everything. Does that not strike you as strange?
And the way she and Rory treat River after they realise who she is... they just never acknowledge each other. I understand that it's awkward when faced with a child you gave birth to but never brought up. But not even a "Hello mom, hello dad"? Not even a "How was your day"? Not a hug or a pat on the shoulder? Man, if my folks treated me that way, I'd be thinking whether I did anything to royally piss them off, or whether they were just huge assholes, no matter how estranged we were.
So much for the complaints. Some of you, if anyone reads this at all, may be thinking "well, if you think you can do better, why don't you write the show?" Alas, but I hardly have the training or the contacts. I'm not a writer by any measure, unless you count the amateur drabbles I occasionally impose upon various fandoms. But I do consume huge amounts of media, and have suggestions about how the show could be different. I hope I don't sound too presumptuous for writing them down.
For the most part, I'd like the show to be about people, not about plots. The characters carry the plots within themselves; you don't just mould the characters to what you want to happen in the story, no matter how genius or mind-blowing they may seem. Let's start with Amy, for instance. I would've made her more bitter, more cynical and jaded, and less trusting; I would've shown how her relationship with Rory was on the rocks as a consequence of this, which is further exacerbated because Rory is the type of guy who doesn't really have a clue what's going on in his girlfriend's head.
And hallo, along comes the Doctor, and manages to convince her to trust him one more time by saving her life, or something similar. And so they travel. As Amy sees more and more of the universe, she allows herself to feel more "childish" reactions and emotions, such as amazement and trust. It would be interesting to play off the Doctor's naivete against her inner conflicts of mistrust-and-yet-wanting-to-trust, and see how the Doctor's own trust in her would affect her.
In a way they influence each other, and the Doctor learns there are consequences to his every action, and he must become more responsible, and Amy learns not everyone is going to leave her, gradually gaining her catharsis and psychological resolution through her marriage to Rory. And Rory learns that to protect the woman he loves, he must become stronger and more alert to change and the opportunities and dangers they bring.
As for River, I would like to see her revolving her life less around the Doctor and more around her own agendas. After all, she is a career woman; she can't be waiting for her husband to come home every day. Perhaps she gains a greater sense of the importance of family, or someone to fall back on, when she gets to know her parents and see how much they rely on each other. No, I don't think this is anti-feminist. I think truly empowered females shouldn't have to choose between career and family, because both will be around after she attends to what she has to.
Anyway. That's my spiel for tonight. I hope I didn't tick anyone off too badly. Good-night.