I just want to put two lines up next to each other:
1. "I'm so old now...I used to have so much mercy." (season 2, "School Reunion")
2. "Amazing though, don't you think? The starwhale. All that pain and misery--and loneliness. And it just made it kind." (season 5, or 1, or whatever we're calling it now, "The Beast Below")
I think that says a lot about the shift from Ten to Eleven. And I love that the one possibility Eleven couldn't see--was himself. (Seriously, I love the way Moffat handled the last-of-his-kind thing, and Amy's line was lovely: "If you were that old, and that kind, and the last of your kind..." The way to my heart: sweet, emotional puns.)
(And while we're talking wordplay--"You're only human" broke my heart a bit.)
In related news, Sophie Okonedo is awesome. I love Liz 10 forever. And the Doctor didn't bring down her government with six words, so that was nice. And--continuing on from last week's depiction-- Moffat has a very old-fashioned view of childhood, which amuses me. Girls in red cardigans and boys with satchels...
The plot was very Matrix in spots, of course; but with the twist that this isn't the story of One Special Man who manages to see through the world to get to the world, the Chosen One and a small band of outsiders, but a deliberate election, for everyone--so everyone's complicit. And the idea that Liz 10 is haunted by the thing she can't remember, enough to be looking for the Doctor for help, when it's all at her own design... well, it's haunting, is what it is. Still puzzled by Amy's video, though. (It is true there are some plot holes in this episode. I will have to think about how annoyed by them I am at a later date, because I'm pleased by the emotional bits. Except one thing: wait, the whale eats people??? What is THAT??? I mean, I suppose if they won't feed it anything else other than people who vote "protest," then it has to eat something, but...what.)
And I'm loving Eleven's and Amy's reactions to things, and to each other. I particularly like the little grace notes Amy has, like her "well, that's no help" slouch when the computer can't ascertain her marital status. And watching Matt Smith move is like watching some slightly different species, which is...appropriate.
Adding more stuff: I suspect that Eleven plus children is going to make me all melty this season. Because we didn't get a lot of children in the RTD years, did we? I mean, proper children, not going-to-grow-up-to-be-Madame-de-Pompadour children, or scary gas-mask children, or children who are secretly spaceships and/or not actually real. (And all of those were written by Moffat anyway!) There were some children in "School Reunion," I suppose... I guess what I mean is, not much in the way of proper interaction between the Doctor and children, which, now that I think on it, is a bit peculiar. And maybe that's why I squeed so hard at Eleven and little Amelia? But there's something lovely about Eleven's youthful air and the way he talks to children. (I keep using the word "lovely." "But now every commendation on every subject is comprised in that one word!")
Placeholder: I keep thinking that it should bother me, the way Moffat has these elements that he recycles: children, plucky girls with whimsical names, relationships that are temporally out of sync. But it doesn't. I love the incongruous images--chandeliers and water glasses on a spaceship; metal and sparks and eighteenth-century gowns. The way things jam up against each other, the old-fashioned and the futuristic, all of that. And yes, this appeals to me in a way that RTD's aesthetic didn't, quite--but I think it's also the difference between plot point and archetype. There were all those interviews going around in which Moffat said that he wrote fairy tales, and it shows. Liz 10's cloak is about mystery and sheer swirling awesome, sure--but it's also Little Red Riding Hood, and finding one's way out of the belly of the beast. And I can watch people play in that sandbox forever without getting tired, whereas a few uses of the reset button or the Needlessly Tragic Ending, and I'm worn out.