After the mixed bag that was The End Of Time (part one), I approached The End Of Time (part two) with a combination of trepidation and excitement.We all knew that David Tennant would be saying goodbye to The TARDIS and that his time as the The Doctor was coming to end, but there was an undeniable - almost ghoulish - fascination in seeing how outgoing showrunner Russell T Davies would send the Time Lord off.
If you thought Part One suffered from a surfeit of story, then Part Two had even more for you with some of the loose threads being tied up and others (such as Donna's involvement) turning out to be bizarre red herrings.
Even Wilf turned out to be nothing more - or less - than he appeared.
The Time Lords returned, with Gallifrey in tow, and then were sent back into the void almost as fast as they arrived, pausing only to release the human race from its latest bondage, and then taking with them The Master.
Every one of the main performers - from Tennant himself and John Simm as The Master, to Bernard Cribbins as Wilf and Timothy Dalton as The Lord President - pushed their performances to 11. This wasn't an episode for quiet contemplation or nuanced subtly, but big, brassy, ballsy turns to match Murray Gold's bombastic score.
All this sound and fury/blood and thunder though was just the prelude to The Doctor's farewell tour; knowing he had absorbed a lethal amount of radiation he took time out to pop in on all his old friends - leading to some marvelous cameos, including: Martha (Freema Agyeman) and Mickey (Noel Clarke) as a married couple fighting a sontaran; Captain Jack (John Barrowman) drowning his sorrows in an intergalactic cantina (à la Star Wars) with Midshipman Frame (Russell Tovey) of Voyage Of The Damned; saving young Luke Smith (Tommy Knight) from an road traffic accident outside Sarah Jane Smith's home; and a few words of encouragement for a pre-Rose Rose Tyler (Billie Piper).
It was a fantastic, touching journey which made you forget the wild, over-the-top, often nonsensical, ball of RTD-infused insanity that had come before it, and just wallow in sentiment and nostalgia.
The main story may have been a mess of tangled plotlines, but the unrelenting excitement of the whole affair was enough to carry you through with only the odd WTF moment (Rassilon? Really?).
As to the enigma of Claire Bloom's role as the mysterious "woman", who surprised no one by turning out to be a Time Lord, while the popular opinion (that is the same people who were convinced Wilf was a hidden Time Lord) is that she was Romana, I like to think she was Susan, The Doctor's granddaughter.
I cannot deny that there were manly tears shed as The Doctor expressed his unwillingness to go... before regenerating into Matt Smith's 11th Doctor; and blowing away - in those mere seconds he had on screen - any lingering doubts I had about his ability to play the role.
The Doctor is dead! Long Live The Doctor!




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