Review: The Angels Take Manhattan

The Angels Take Manhattan Review

Immediate Reaction (After First Viewing)

And that’s that. Goodbye Amy and Rory. Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who has been criticised in some quarters for lacking the heart and soul that Russell T Davies’ iteration had in buckets. The Angels Take Manhattan sets that particular record straight. Amy’s departure at the hands of a Weeping Angel rivals Rose’s exit from the show, and I suspect resonated with a rapt audience in the same way. The Doctor’s heart-breaking reaction to her disappearance matches the tears he shed for the loss of Rose, showing that Amy meant just as much to him as she did. Matt Smith continues to extend his range as the Doctor, and makes the Doctor’s loss all too real. For the first time in the Eleventh Doctor’s era, I was properly moved. I might even have cried a bit. But don’t tell anyone.

The Angels Take Manhattan was a typical Moffat creation, in that it threw invention after invention onto the screen, seemingly without abandon, and managed to surprise and shock on a regular basis. Moffat seems to have settled down from overdoing the convoluted plot threads and time travel cheats that he used at first, and his two tales this year so far have had a pleasingly linear structure that has placed character higher than some of his recent stories. What it also had, with the knowledge that this was the story where Amy and Rory leave, was a sense of doom and death lingering over it. The threat felt real, because it was very possible one or both of them could die. That feeling doesn’t come along very often in Doctor Who and Moffat utilised it with his customary brilliance.

The use of detective imagery and tropes allowed Nick Hurran to show New York off to good effect, although I could have done without seeing River Song again. The shadowy backgrounds and darkened rooms were perfect environments for the Angels to inhabit, and there were one or two moments of sublime horror, such as the little girl in the window imitating the Angels gestures, and Rory’s descent into the cellar to meet the Cherubs.

The Weeping Angels themselves showed the law of diminishing returns in full effect. There were some nice wrinkles to their presentation, some more successful than others, but overall the fact is that they are no longer scary. The Weeping Cherubs were deeply disturbing, particularly that little child laugh they possessed. The Weeping Angel of Liberty was clearly an irresistible image, although it didn’t really seem to serve any purpose beyond its initial amusing appearance. Similarly the mother and son Angels seemed to only be there to provide Mike McShane’s mob boss with an off-screen death. However the main issue is that, with the whole don’t blink/ actually do blink issue raised in The Time of Angels/ Flesh and Stone has muddied the waters so much now that characters can go minutes at a time without actually looking at the Angels. Dramatic licence yes, but a severe weakening of a once terrifying villain. Leave the Angels alone now, Steven.

In a way it’s a pity Moffat chose 1938 rather than, say, 1965 for the past setting. It would have been nice to have imagined Amy and Rory finding little baby Melody in an alley, freshly regenerated, and raising her in the way that the events at Demons Run denied them in the first place. But then, I suppose life is not about completely happy endings and all threads tied up in a neat bow.

But the episode lives or dies on the strength of its main selling point; the departure of a companion, or in this case two. The inclusion of the Weeping Angels was a big clue about how the Ponds would leave us and so it came to pass. However, there was real power in their scenes in the graveyard, and also in the Ponds suicide pact to create the paradox. Whilst one Angel surviving and waiting in the graveyard was a bit convenient, it was the right exit for Amy and Rory. I agree with Steven when he says that companions shouldn’t die, and these days it seems that they have to leave in the most final way possible, short of death. The Ponds and the Doctor have reached the end of their book, and it’s sad to see them go, but also time. The show goes ever onward, and while we mourn the end of Amy and Rory, the post-credits mini-trailer promises new glories to come.

 

 

Written in memory of Rory Arthur Williams (Died aged 82) and his loving wife Amelia (Died aged 87).