New episode! Back again, a week after Conrad’s intervention session, to watch this. I honestly forgot about watching this for almost the whole day. There’s a general air of unenthused attention to this series. Ideally, episodes should be broadcast around 19:00, as they tended to be early in the Revived Series’ lifespan. This grew earlier as it went on generally, except for Series 8, which was much later. The previous series released each episode at midnight at the earliest, which I stayed up for every night. These episodes are available from 08:00, very much not the right time to be watching Doctor Who in my estimations. It should be getting dark outside, a growing sense of unease and trepidation, the imagination growing more vivid surrounded by shadows, and Doctor Who goes on. Not in the morning. Just have to wait for the actual broadcast then, not keeping the episode broadcast much of an event. The finale of this series is to be broadcast later in the day and only available then, making all these earlier-released episodes seem clearly less relevant or worthwhile.

Back to the basement to endure another beating, crying as one recollects all the golden memories from the days of yore. That’s how watching this series feels, before, during and after. These reviews are a post-mortem. To watch is an obligation, a necessity not borne of fun, but a memory of better days. The Story & the Engine, don’t like the uncapitalised “the” there, although more excitingly, the return of the ampersand! Not seen since Love & Monsters. I rate the title 6/10.

Here we go then. The Story, and also, the Engine. Well, there’s an engine, on a giant spider’s back. Any story? Not really. The imagery is rather remarkable in places - the idea of a barbershop in Africa being simultaneously situated upon a giant arachnid trundling along a timeless web is not altogether a common sight, and there are some other fabulous ideas and images on display - the giant maze, a kind of metaphor for the ever-weaving unravelling stories, a labyrinth of such concern for the protagonists, getting right in the Doctor’s hair. Wonderful idea, but just go left every time, don’t you know anything about mazes?

Almost the entirety of this episode takes place inside a barbershop. Quite a nice idea, trapping it to one room, just as The Well, and even more so; lots of fantastic Doctor Who episodes are about being confined and locked in, that is almost intrinsic to the nature of the programme. It wasn’t all that suspenseful here, and it did look rather as though there was a back entrance that lead out of the room (alternatively referred to as an “exit”) beyond view, the way the room was shaped, distracting a little. The Doctor acts very human-like here, more than usual and more than desired; chatting to the locals, wanting to go and converse with his old friends the hair-cutting fellows, that doesn’t seem quite how the Doctor should behave around people. He is a Time Lord, observing the turn of the universe. Well, maybe that’s by his title, how he sometimes wants to be seen, a promise often not lived up to, but this total alteration makes him seem too common, not giving Gatwa much opportunity to develop himself in the role. He isn’t very proactive, mostly just sitting down talking, which could work as in many previous stories, but is rather dull here, which is a problem for a story based around talking about stories. Perhaps the entire concept of telling a story about storytelling is better suited to the narrative medium of reading, rather than this visual feast of gluttonous repetition.

The giant spider doesn’t do much, a shame it was blown up at the end. There is goes, frolicking on its merry way down the web of time, when some people run through a maze and end its life. Must have been fairly uninteresting for a being as that, living on eternally, but still, quite sad to see it go, and no thought whatever is given in suggestion of redemption or care for this mighty, beautiful organism; imagine this resolution in The Beast Below.

Belinda spends most of the first half standing around in the console room, rather like Amy in The Lodger. When she does leave, she quickly finds the Doctor, without much challenge or additional input, and generally doesn’t have much to do. She spots a mysterious girl, mentions it at the end, but nothing comes of this; a question for the future, it seems, giving off a strong impression and intrigue, lacking elsewhere, that doesn’t result in anything. With no difficulty, she spots the missing posters, wanders into the barbershop and promptly points out that they were on the posters, information the Doctor has already relayed, making her rather redundant to the plot.

Mostly we sit around, hearing people proliferate some tale as their hair is cut, whereupon up they get and their hair grows greatly. An interesting image, a strange concept, not developed as much as the hair growth itself. I did not care for any of the characters particularly besides the main protagonists, and why the Doctor would remains unclear. This incarnation, acting more human, wanting to be around people more, to be accepted and invited under similar pretences, undermines some of the mystique and power of his real self. There was little attempt for any real wit or speed in the dialogue, or much sign of intelligence beyond man from the Doctor. Attempting something different could be interesting, a story stipulated around slowness, an appreciation for time and place, but I didn’t appreciate it much. Rather akin to The Rings of Akhaten, but even there, the Doctor told a much more interesting story than anything here.

Every time one is at risk of falling asleep, a royalty-free alarm sound blares out, awakening the audience and characters. There is a sense of tension and rushing around briefly, then we sit back down again and carry on with the hair-cutting fantasies. “We need a story now” they say. Well go on then, tell me something. There wasn’t much of a moral here, a purpose, the spider seemed there just as a precautionary enforced addition, the old JNT gambit of putting a monster into every story, irrelevant of whether it was needed. RTD’s obsession with gods strikes again; the leader of the hairdressers claims to be several old gods, then perhaps the ruler of them all, and it’s just so tedious to hear this tripe again. Wasn’t Sutekh the one behind them all? Even in this low-stakes slow-ache of a story, we have to get some almighty evil, that isn’t really there.

Praise may be awarded to Murray Gold, as ever, the singular singing point of real wisdom amongst the monotony. Good use is made of instruments relative to the geography, and the string textures at the end adorn one’s mind with a sorrowful, yet hopeful sentiment, a feeling much more than any words may carry. Lovely guitar coming in, as well. The 15th Doctor’s theme is comparatively much more traditional in structure, dynamics and tempo, rather at odds with the rest, a clear presentation of the clash of styles here, and in itself, carrying those simultaneous major-minor modal chords, which I’ve never really enjoyed hearing. Otherwise, in audio format, a job well done.

Previous Doctors appear on the monitor, which, as a devoted fan of the programme, naturally resounds well, although every time this sort of montage transpires, it grows ever more weary. As most of the Classic Series, and every episode from 2005 is available on iPlayer, this kind of brief cutting of previous moments appears in a veil opposed to its apparent intention - instead of being an exciting fun moment, it totally distracts from the adventure, simply reminding one of all the better days. These episodes are all easily watchable now (in the UK at least), undoing what makes this sight special, at least somewhat, twisting it, just as in The Magician’s Apprentice, to another tedious moment. Seeing Eccleston’s delight as “everybody lives” is particularly effective in this juxtaposition. It’s been very nearly 20 years since that exact episode was broadcast, 20 years since, and yet the quality and lessons learnt have all been forgotten in favour of this nauseating collection of emotionless soundbites. Just as in The Timeless Children, it lacks effect.

While it may be liked, showing a moment from The Daleks in Colour makes it easy to imagine the production team emphasising their own version of history, stamped over the original, a seeming disrespect, rather than adoration of the original adventure. Little skill is required to envision their version of the world, with their newly-coloured edits of old stories, changing and splitting apart the original narratives in favour of a twisted, fan-centred, unimaginative new order, in contradiction to the first works, emblazoned in television sets around the world. Adding in the Fugitive Doctor simply reveals the nonsensical continuity; they just plop an old Doctor in for a few seconds, and off she goes. Why put any effort into cause and effect, repercussion, purpose, justification and intention then? What remains is a meaningless big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey-wimey… guff.

A few miscellaneous nitpicks, as they are easy to spot throughout. Belinda rushes into the shop and before anyone says anything, she closes the door, trapping herself in. Why did no one shout for her to hold the door open? Or put a stick there to prop it open?

The Doctor seems about to cry this week, but actually didn’t, a welcome reprieve. Near the end, all the people in the barbershop bomp their heads together and stare at different little patches of the ground in hope, down at the camera, which is rather bizarre. The “six word” story idea, stolen from Hemingway, was more powerfully achieved in The Christmas Invasion, and since the Doctor doesn’t even recite the original story (perhaps to inspire a curious viewer to investigate it themselves?) seemed to make the whole idea a little irrelevant. The author appears to place less value in the meaning of a story than its length, a case of mistaken quantity over quality, showing their own ineptitude, and massively contradicting the presumed-intended idea of this story itself.

The barbershop is closed by the end, leaving a poor lady jobless. “What will you do now?” “Anything.” Back on the prowl for work. Just like Mickey in Journey’s End; so one imagines she’ll marry someone and get nearly shot by a Sontaran. Or maybe not.

What makes a good story? Many elements that are generally common, such as interesting characters, well-paced dialogue, a gripping narrative, a lesson, a sense of deeper thought and purpose, are absent here. The music is quite nice in places; some ideas are intriguingly creative; the image of a giant spider will always be welcome, and we may easily add this to the list of stories which have tried and failed to make any exciting use of spiders, along with Planet of the Spiders and Arachnids in the UK.

The Story & the Engine. Not much story; a rusty throttling engine, chugging along and winding down.