Whovian Hall

Due to being unbelievably late, Chris and I had to run to reach the Royal Albert in time. Which actually, I think is the best way to begin a Doctor Who evening (although more Tennant appopriate than Smith, who is generally more interested in lankily flopping, but anyway). We did manage to reach the doors in time, and careerd into our seats moments before the  BBC National Orchestra of Wales came on stage. Never having been to the Royal Albert before, I was incredibly impressed by how vast it is. Completely and utterly packed too, with small children in Fez hats clambering around in their seats next to die hard Whovians clutching Tardis shaped programmes. I felt a great deal of affection for my fellow Who fans, the eccentric and enthusiastic bunch that we are, and the intoxicating effect of being in a very large building with a lot of people who loved something as much as I did, was rather overpowering. So yes, what with the running and the fans and the sight of the swooping architecture of the Albert being punctuated by a Tardis, I was a bit excited.

The first half of the show seemed to consist largely of Karen Gillian looking very beautiful, and rather obviously reading an auto cue. We were consistently reminded that it was the BBC National Orchestra of Wales performing, and for the most part, no one was really interested in the music. A rather strange mixture of Classical Music for The Masses (which was accompanied with no visuals and a lot of audience members fidgeting) and then somewhat more engaging visual montages from the series put to orchestral music, which was again at points, a little underwhelming. What we were all waiting for in bated breath was of course though, the Doctor Who monsters. We were not disappointed. Cyber men came stomping on stage, to wild whoops, and a very satisfying scream was emitted from in front of the stage when a woman was caught unawares by a female vampire. The highlight of the first half however was a Dalek coming up from the floor into the audience, and asking us if we would like a cup of tea. Poor Chris, who is not a regular Who watcher, looked utterly bewildered as the crowd roared with laughter at this series in joke. Towards the end though the itching desperation to see The Doctor, or at least Matt Smith, was near tangible. Karen Gillian changed her frock, a large white Dalek from the new and improved Power Ranger Dalek Set threatend the composer with extermination. Yet still the Tardis sat mockingly in the centre of the stage, as by the end of the first half, still no foppish Time Lord came tumbling out.

For the second half, Chris and I decided to abandon our seats and go stand nearer the stage, in what can only be described as being the groundling area. I’m so glad we made this decision. Being a groundling is where it’s at. Karen again came and introduced the next piece of music, this time accompanied by her on screen fiancee Arthur Deville, who is surprisingly handsome in real life. More music, more onscreen visuals, and then an ‘incoming message’ that had children standing up in their seats and me trying to stand on my toes.  The Doctor was projected on screen, apparently unable to visit today as he had managed to miss the actual date of the proms by a few hundred years. There was some inevitable pantomine silliness about shouting ‘hello Doctor!” which was cringey, and then a problem with a glowing green ball that couldn’t be disabled, due to the sonic screwdriver mysteriously becoming a real screwdriver,  the screen turned to static, and he was gone. Of course, the Proms wasn’t going to tittilate us mercilessly with only an on screen Doctor.  Behind us ground dwellers, a real life flesh and blood Matt Smith came leaping out from the large trapdoor and I’m not going to lie, it was pretty damn thrilling. What then commenced was the Doctor in his some what pantomimey role picking a blonde, wide eyed little boy from the audience, and then getting him to help disable the intergalactic glowing bomb through placing an invisible thread in his mouth and not moving. The little boys obvious joy in being so near the Doctor outshone any of the possible cheesiness, and I think we were all charmed. The Doctor then bounded away, and after a brief interlude of Wagners Flight of the Valkyries, he was back on stage, changed, and obviously in Matt Smith mode.

The placement of actors playing characters and then actors playing themselves created a strange, tenuous feel to the evening. Karen Gillian spoke exactly as if she was Amy Pond, and the interaction of the Who monsters with this Gillian/Pond intermix was a little jarring, as was Matt’s quick re-appearance as himself. In an almost Brechtian way the audience was not allowed the sense of theatrical involvment that occurs in most performances, and any suspension of belief was quickly shattered. I doubt very much that this inducement of the Verfremdungseffekt was deliberate, but it did tickle me that Doctor Who was inadverntly exploring some of the paradoxes of performance. Timey, wimey, wibbly, wobbly, theatrey stuff.

Overal, the evening was a mixed affair. The music was at parts beautiful, the tenor John Hudson being a definate high point. But it was also at parts schmaltzy and boring. I was disappointed with some of the monsters, throughout the night Karen kept telling us ‘not to blink!’, which had me in a high state of anticipation for the sight of a Weeping Angel. The fibre glass creation that came out of the ground, didn’t move, and then was lowered back down again, didn’t really cut it for me. Then again, the sight of Matt Smith cavorting through the audience and then giggling on stage with Karen Gillian and Arthur Deville made up for most of my grievances.

Also, check out this mini Whovian. Hopefully one day, I too will be able to produce a child with such a sense of aesthetic flair.The hands grasping the seat in excitment as well…Awwwwww.