Doctor Who Vincent and The Doctor Review
Jun. 21st, 2010 05:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dweomeroflightOk guys, I know I havn't reviewed Dr Who since Vampires in Venice but there is a reason. Actually there's a few reasons.
a) I'm going overseas for 5 months which equals lots of stress and organisation and no lj
b) I'm meeting up with online fandom friends next week for the Burton exhibition in Melbourne and have been trying to work out that (Oh fandom friends- some of these guys are really good friends, never mind that I've never met them in person before.)
c) Amy Choice onwards Dr Who has been getting more and more complex with more and more going on and its getting harder for me to have any coherent thoughts after one viewing.
But Vincent and The Doctor was so awesome that I'm writing a review.
I was interested to see how this episode would turn out. I mean Richard Curtis! Van Gogh! Bill Nighy!! But there was an alterior motive for my interest too. In my latest novel attempt, the second book in the trilogy is about Vincent Van Gogh and how he lived his life. Basically because his life relates to the first book and the consequences of it blah blah blah. Anyway, I have done some research on Van Gogh and I watched The Yellow House with John Simm and have looked at alot of his paintings and the theories on which type of mental illness he proportedly had, which made me very interested to see how Dr Who "did" Vincent.
I was impressed in dot points;
- Bill Nighy was awesome and funny as usual.
- Richard Curtis is at his best when he combines bittersweet poignancy with gentle humour (best seen in my opinion in Love Actually)and I think his writing was at its best here
- Drama was focussed on and getting characters and the portrayal of mental illness (in this case I think depression was being depicted but correct me if I am wrong) was focussed on rather than yet another alien threat. The alien threat was there, but it wasn't what was important to the story.
- Time wasn't rewritten. Vincent had to die. That was so sad and so beautiful when Nighy is describing Vincent in 100 words and Vincent is actually in the freaking room crying! That was some very powerful acting
QUESTION: Why do you think Vincent still chose to commit suicide if he knew he would be a success? Is it because he thinks he has imagined the whole thing? Or is it simply because he is clinically depressed and kills himself in a bad spell? I don't mean to be insensitive to those who have experienced mental illness but my friend and I were genuinely wondering.
- The art direction for this season is so win! When they were lying on the ground and the sky became starry, starry night. That was so beautiful!
- There were some great quotes in this one for Mr Matt.
eg
Vincent: You can't go in there. What are you armed with?
Matt: With a great deal of overconfidence and a screwdriver.
And the quote about the good outweighing the bad was so beautiful. And when The Doctor tries to convince Vincent that "in my experience, there is you know, always hope," and you kind of get the impression that maybe The Doctor doesn't really believe that himself. And when Vincent tells Amy that she sings a song of sadness and she doesn't know what he means but she's crying... just wow. This episode was really good and emotional and I loved it alot and can't wait to watch it again!
Now if anyone is interested here is part of my take on Vincent, taken from a word ramble for my second novel:
They are afraid of me now, 'the red bearded mad man,' they call me and they will not let me paint them. They fear my yellow house and call it cursed and keep well away. It is lonely here, with Gaugin gone. I curse myself every day for giving into the weakness our family possesses for it has lost me my friends, my health and my sanity.
I feel when I paint. But sometimes even the colours cease to interest me and I wonder if what I do matters to anyone at all, if I matter at all. I know that I will be forgotten, even as I already am forgotten in my little house on the hill.
I wonder, when I look up at the stars, if anyone in the universe has ever felt as alone as I do now, if somewhere out there, there is someone as alone as me?
I also wrote this poem called The Yellow House about Vincent and his final days from the ear cutting onwards. He is speaking to fellow artist Gaugin who lived with Vincent till they had a quarrel and Gaugin left after being threatened (supposedly! We only have Gaugin's word) Tell me what you think!
In my yellow house
you mock
that which I built from the ground up
But you will never care,
Forever lying, lying like the Good Samaritan
You patronising Black Beard
It's over now, I say
Take your wretched silver
Go somewhere far away
In my yellow house
No one sees me cry
Sit alone, pray, stretch skin
Flay, bleed, cut
For God and for you
Quoting Judas
As the servant girl wrings weary hands
And now you've gone your seperate way
There is nothing left but to paint the night away
My yellow house
My child's sanctuary
Cries loud with me
Though few can hear it
Can truly listen
My soul is in its
darkend, glorified walls
One with its pulsing interior.
Yet no one sees me fall
No one cares enough to find me
Lying prostrate on the floor.
In my yellow house
Is silence still.
Empty rooms, cracked furniture
And dust on the window sill.
a) I'm going overseas for 5 months which equals lots of stress and organisation and no lj
b) I'm meeting up with online fandom friends next week for the Burton exhibition in Melbourne and have been trying to work out that (Oh fandom friends- some of these guys are really good friends, never mind that I've never met them in person before.)
c) Amy Choice onwards Dr Who has been getting more and more complex with more and more going on and its getting harder for me to have any coherent thoughts after one viewing.
But Vincent and The Doctor was so awesome that I'm writing a review.
I was interested to see how this episode would turn out. I mean Richard Curtis! Van Gogh! Bill Nighy!! But there was an alterior motive for my interest too. In my latest novel attempt, the second book in the trilogy is about Vincent Van Gogh and how he lived his life. Basically because his life relates to the first book and the consequences of it blah blah blah. Anyway, I have done some research on Van Gogh and I watched The Yellow House with John Simm and have looked at alot of his paintings and the theories on which type of mental illness he proportedly had, which made me very interested to see how Dr Who "did" Vincent.
I was impressed in dot points;
- Bill Nighy was awesome and funny as usual.
- Richard Curtis is at his best when he combines bittersweet poignancy with gentle humour (best seen in my opinion in Love Actually)and I think his writing was at its best here
- Drama was focussed on and getting characters and the portrayal of mental illness (in this case I think depression was being depicted but correct me if I am wrong) was focussed on rather than yet another alien threat. The alien threat was there, but it wasn't what was important to the story.
- Time wasn't rewritten. Vincent had to die. That was so sad and so beautiful when Nighy is describing Vincent in 100 words and Vincent is actually in the freaking room crying! That was some very powerful acting
QUESTION: Why do you think Vincent still chose to commit suicide if he knew he would be a success? Is it because he thinks he has imagined the whole thing? Or is it simply because he is clinically depressed and kills himself in a bad spell? I don't mean to be insensitive to those who have experienced mental illness but my friend and I were genuinely wondering.
- The art direction for this season is so win! When they were lying on the ground and the sky became starry, starry night. That was so beautiful!
- There were some great quotes in this one for Mr Matt.
eg
Vincent: You can't go in there. What are you armed with?
Matt: With a great deal of overconfidence and a screwdriver.
And the quote about the good outweighing the bad was so beautiful. And when The Doctor tries to convince Vincent that "in my experience, there is you know, always hope," and you kind of get the impression that maybe The Doctor doesn't really believe that himself. And when Vincent tells Amy that she sings a song of sadness and she doesn't know what he means but she's crying... just wow. This episode was really good and emotional and I loved it alot and can't wait to watch it again!
Now if anyone is interested here is part of my take on Vincent, taken from a word ramble for my second novel:
They are afraid of me now, 'the red bearded mad man,' they call me and they will not let me paint them. They fear my yellow house and call it cursed and keep well away. It is lonely here, with Gaugin gone. I curse myself every day for giving into the weakness our family possesses for it has lost me my friends, my health and my sanity.
I feel when I paint. But sometimes even the colours cease to interest me and I wonder if what I do matters to anyone at all, if I matter at all. I know that I will be forgotten, even as I already am forgotten in my little house on the hill.
I wonder, when I look up at the stars, if anyone in the universe has ever felt as alone as I do now, if somewhere out there, there is someone as alone as me?
I also wrote this poem called The Yellow House about Vincent and his final days from the ear cutting onwards. He is speaking to fellow artist Gaugin who lived with Vincent till they had a quarrel and Gaugin left after being threatened (supposedly! We only have Gaugin's word) Tell me what you think!
In my yellow house
you mock
that which I built from the ground up
But you will never care,
Forever lying, lying like the Good Samaritan
You patronising Black Beard
It's over now, I say
Take your wretched silver
Go somewhere far away
In my yellow house
No one sees me cry
Sit alone, pray, stretch skin
Flay, bleed, cut
For God and for you
Quoting Judas
As the servant girl wrings weary hands
And now you've gone your seperate way
There is nothing left but to paint the night away
My yellow house
My child's sanctuary
Cries loud with me
Though few can hear it
Can truly listen
My soul is in its
darkend, glorified walls
One with its pulsing interior.
Yet no one sees me fall
No one cares enough to find me
Lying prostrate on the floor.
In my yellow house
Is silence still.
Empty rooms, cracked furniture
And dust on the window sill.