2. Blockbuster Special Effects
OK, so, the effects aren't really the problem. We love the production values. We enjoy the spiffy effect of skeletons glowing through bodies when Daleks shoot pitiful humans. We love up close and personals with movie monsters. And all that glowing regenerationy energy is gorgeous. But you know what we love most of all? A rickety wooden box, that appears and disappears with a tired old windbag moan and a camera trick straight out of the 1950s. What the reboot, at least initially seemed to understand was that Doctor Who has never survived on the strength of it's special effects budget. It is the rich cast of characters and the engrossing storylines, not about battles with movie monsters, but monstrous ideas, coming into conflict with one another, and the heart it takes to resolve these conflicts. Never was virtue buried so shallowly than beneath the surface than in that magic blue box. Why is this a problem? Right now, the focus in production seems to be on creating titillating images for the viewer; special effects extravaganzas. Grand scenes and dynamic monologues are clearly written as set pieces themselves, and all the connective narrative tissue is treated as so much fodder. This is the reason so many of the stories look great in fan montage videos but feel so hollow when watched from start to finish. It is hard to justify your feeling of dissatisfaction with the jerky storytelling in "Let's Kill Hitler" if you are just watching a context-free clip of River's sacrifice to save the Doctor. There is nothing wrong, on the surface, with these high drama, high effect climax pieces. However, the sweet moments, the small moments, the dinners with Rose's Mom Jackie, or the quiet evening chat on the couch with Craig and his primate-loving love interest are becoming fewer and farther between. The creative team at the helm now seems to have lost touch with the artistry necessary to tell stories out of which those grand cinematic moments naturally arise, and to have forgotten the inextricable link that cogent and meticulously constructed sequences of cause and effect relations have to the inherent believability and likeability of any given story. So how do we fix this? Stop taking shortcuts, is the simplest answer. Often it feels as though large or important scenes are lined up in a row and stuck together with nothing more than a series of sultry companion outfits and some Eleventh token zaniness. The show needs to regain its heart, if it is to remain a cultural institution rather than just a high budget sci-fi series. Are we willing to give up the awesome costuming evolutions to get it? Probably not. But we, as fans, need to see a return to some of the simple basics. Yes, the Doctor is amazing, and River Song is a whirlwind of force, and Amy with all her bizarre background ticks and forced specialness was enjoyable for a season and a half. But the show's heart has always been about normal people turning out to be extraordinary in the end. Not because they live in a house with a crack in time pouring special universe juice into their brainpan. Or because they have some unexplained capacity to never die. But because, as Rose Tyler put it, "Got no A levels. No job. No future. But I'll tell you what I have got, Jericho Street Junior School Under 7's gymnastics team. I got the bronze."