Doctor Who: The Power of Three - TV review

Actually, I have to be a bit careful here. The last time I was slightly critical in print about Doctor Who it wasn't a pretty experience.

I'm not saying that some of the fans are in any way slightly over the top and unwilling to consider criticism – I'm not doing that again, thanks – but some of them are slightly over the top and unwilling to consider criticism.

And it wasn't as if I wrote anything that harsh. I just made the observation that some of the episodes last season were, you know, a bit silly, needlessly confusing, smug.

Now, I don't want you running off with the idea that things got unpleasant, although looking back it was nice of Salman Rushdie to email a list of places to lie low for a while.

Anyhoo, it's all water under the bridge, and as I say, I really enjoyed Saturday night's episode.

Which is a good thing, really, because I didn't think much of the previous three.

Now, before my taxi to an igloo in the frozen north arrives, hopefully just ahead of the army of angry villagers with flaming torches, let's look at the good bits:

1. Matt Smith. He's just brilliant, isn't he? A Doctor with a heart and soul of pure steel, yet you're amazed that he can work out how to put his underpants on. Smith plays him as a mixture of very small child and extraordinarily old soul. He's perfect.

And now let's look at the bad bits:

1. The scripts.

2. The scripts.

3. The scripts.

4. The music (Nah, only kidding: it's the scripts again.)

Doctor Who used to be known for being scary – the whole hiding behind the back of the sofa experience – and when it returned seven years ago it still had elements of that (remember the people whose faces became gas masks? Exactly.)

But lately I've been of the opinion that the more money the Beeb throws at it, the sillier and more pleased with itself it becomes.

It's certainly never looked better, with special effects that wouldn't disgrace a mid budget sci-fi film, but it has a tendency to be a bit too Roger Moore-era James Bond, sacrificing plot, tension and scares for made-up-as-we-go-along plotting. (Yes, I know it's a programme about an alien who travels through space and history in a Police Box, but that doesn't mean you have to lose realism, does it?)

The fact the powers that be have decided to make each episode self-contained doesn't help; there's simply too much to cram into just under three-quarters of an hour. Stories need time to develop and breathe before being wrapped up in the 40th minute with rapid-fire incomprehensible dialogue.

Which is why this week's episode was such a treat, a rumination on travelling in time and space and growing up and growing apart.

There was an alien invasion, too, with the great Steven Berkoff wearing a ton of foundation on his face, but that was underwritten and far less interesting than the interplay between Amy, Rory and The Doctor.

I shall miss the Ponds when they sign off next week.

Anyway, I'll have to go now. I think Salman's just sent me another list...

Andrew Owen