The Colors of Autumn

I am currently embracing the season of Autumn--always my favorite, in fact--and the pleasures it brings. I've been traveling more than usual, due to new job, and have enjoyed driving through country roads, past incredible vistas with a peculiar, transfiguring autumn sunlight that has an almost supernatural effect on the objects it strikes, just so. There aren't words adequate to describe the quality of the light--pearlescent, weak and yet astonishingly clear--these words come close to capturing it, but, no; they're inadequate.

Maybe this will help: a world normally seen in the hues of oil paints becomes, for a little under an hour, the work of a preternaturally skilled watercolorist.

Some people don't like the fall, with its intimations that winter is near, and the end of the year, an allegorical stand-in for death, will fast be upon us. It stirs my soul--from memories of the new school year, to the scent of burning leaves.

And the "autumnal" feel in novels has always appealed to me, too. Dumas's Inseparables are never more real to me than when divided by time, other alliances and loyalties, and yet still insistently loyal to each other in the long novel The Vicomte de Bragelonne (often published as three separate volumes, the first under the original title, the second as Louise de la Valiere, and the third as The Man in the Iron Mask).

My own first novel, Phineas at Bay, which takes its main characters from Anthony Trollope's Palliser novels, is not particularly autumnal--it's a story of several characters each finding the way home to his or her own best, truest self. The main characters are in middle age, but each has been balked in some way, and is laboring to get through a personal Sargasso Sea. Ultimately, Phineas at Bay is the conclusion to the season of summer, albeit a delayed summer for some of my characters.

Its sequel, which I have just started, is a very different work. It's a story, with roots in real history, of a very talented criminal, of a young barrister's learning his trade, and of the beginning of a life's work. For Phineas Finn, it will be a story of loss, and of consolation.

For the older characters--Trollope's own, mostly, but a few others--autumn has arrived. What to make of that late, last flush of supernal beauty, is the question before them. Because, after all, for everyone, ultimately, winter must follow.

"Say Something Nice": Two Cheers for "Dark Water" and "Death in Heaven"

Death in Heaven, last week's finale for series 8 of Doctor Who, is as divisive among fans of the show as was Dark Water, the episode leading into the finale. (My views on Dark Water are here.)

It's not surprising; Death in Heaven is quick-moving, nuanced in its characterizations, and convoluted in its plot. Depending on your metric, it can fairly be viewed as a mixed-up mess or as a brilliant success.

On the negative side, once again, my friend Nick Kaufmann:

Look, I’m not going to mince words here. Doctor Who‘s eighth season finale,”Death in Heaven,” was crap. Although I suppose it could have been a passable, rousing adventure if it weren’t for the fact that nothing in it made any sense. If you thought the science in “In the Forest of the Night” was absurd even for Doctor Who, wait until you get a load of this episode!***

Missy employs something called Cyberpollen (magic rain!) that transforms every dead body on Earth into Cybermen — but only dead bodies. It works so perfectly that it begs the question why it wasn’t intended to transform all the living beings instead. But no, that will require a second pollination performed by the dead-body Cybermen! Why have this two-tier plan? Why not just turn every living human on Earth into a Cyberman with the first rain? Why even bother with transforming the dead first? On top of that, there didn’t seem to be any limit on how long someone could be dead before their body is transformed into a Cyberman. Did you die in the 1700s? Are you just dust and bone shards now? Doesn’t matter. Now you’re a full-bodied Cyberman! On the other hand, are you a healthy, living human being with all your limbs intact? Then sorry, we don’t want you. Just the dead , thanks. Again, why? There isn’t a reason beyond the fact that the plot demands a two-tier plan so the Doctor can stop it.

Also, Jill Pantozzi over at The Mary Sue:

There were a few episodes this season I greatly enjoyed but the overall theme dragged me down to point where I’m considering not watching the show anymore because it’s not bringing me any joy. Clara was going to murder someone but didn’t have to because the Doctor was going to in her place, neither a fantastic scenario. And the Doctor feels he won because he didn’t give into the temptation to basically rule the galaxy but it doesn’t feel like a win when everything else is so awful.

***

Perhaps you felt differently about the episode but after what was a very compelling first half for me, the second part fell apart completely and left me longing for fun adventures through time and space again.

On the brilliant success side of the ledger, Philip Sandifer:

It works. There are plot holes. I identified several in the immediate aftermath. On a second pass, all of them have, at the very least, a line of dialogue. Yes, Missy’s entire reason for bringing the Doctor and Clara together and intervening in their timestreams to keep them together was that Clara would eventually lead the Doctor to try to rescue a loved one out of heaven. It’s a scheme by the Master, what did you expect, sanity? The Doctor probably could have commanded the army to self-destruct, but he recognized that Danny was the right person to do it. They’re not always satisfying payoffs, though for the most part, they’re as satisfying as they need to be for the amount the show built them up - if fans inflated the minor mysteries further, that’s their problem.

And when anything falters, it’s willing to get through on sheer bravado. Moffat returned to the two-parter on the back of Sherlock, and built one with a corker of a cliffhanger. He actually rejects his own usual advice of having to pick up the cliffhanger in a different place, instead just weighting the two halves, so Clara drops out earliest in Dark Water and then gets the cold open in Death in Heaven. Then he uses UNIT to change the pace a second time, and he’s off to the races with something that feels very different without any gimmicks, or, at least, without any of the gimmicks his detractors accuse him of relying on. It keeps moving at a thrilling speed. There’s no flab to this story - just a solid knowledge of what the major scenes actually are and a willingness to linger on them and trim the connective tissue.

It’s phenomenally good, and a worthy capstone to a season that has been a genuinely incredible piece of television. And it’s been a barnstorming success in practice. There are detractors, but most reviews have been positive, ratings have been high. AIs have been a smidgen weak, perhaps, but that’s maybe OK for a show that’s taking this many risks. Maybe the best television doesn’t get a 91 point AI.

(Paul Cornell raved, too.)

So, what gives, and where do I stand?

Well, look. I find myself very forgiving of bad science in Doctor Who, always have been. That's because I have never seen Doctor Who as science fiction, but as science fantasy--I think that Sandifer's great contribution to critical reading of Doctor Who is his insight that, thanks to David Whitaker's seminal contribution to the program, Doctor Who is rooted in alchemical thinking. So, science? Not so much--quasi-science, with alchemical roots, that begins in the Hartnell era and continues into the present. And in terms of that logic, Death in Heaven works.

A few specific points:

1. "Doctor Idiot": The Doctor's self-discovery

When the Doctor realizes he is not a good man, a bad man, a hero or an officer, he realizes that he is "an idiot with a box nd a screwdriver. Just passing through, helping out, learning." He is, in other words (Robertson Davies's words, for choice, the Fool:

The Fool; the cheerful rogue on a journey, with a rip in his pants, and a little dog that nipped at his exposed rump, urging him onward and sometimes nudging him in directions he had never intended to take. The Fool, who had no number but the potent zero which, when it was added to any other number, multiplied its significance by ten. . . He had been inclined to see his own myth as that of a servant, a drudge, not without value, but never an initiator or an important figure in anyone’s life but his own. If he had been asked to choose a card in the Tarot that would signify himself, he would probably have named the Knave of Clubs, Le Valet de Baton, the faithful, loyal servitor. Was not that the character he had played all his life? . . . Oh, the Knave of Clubs to the life! But now Mamusia had declared as true what he had for some time felt in his bones. He was something better. He was the Fool. Not the servitor, napkin in hand, at the behest of his betters, but the footloose traveller, urged onward by something outside the confines of intellect and caution.

And that's not a bad description of the core meaning of the Doctor as he has been presented in the series, from the beginning on. Finding himself, alchemically speaking, spiritually speaking, is a key step on his trip back to Gallifrey. It's not an express trip, for those who thought that this would be the reason arc; he has to get acquainted with himself first.

2. The Mistress's Plan: Why the Dead, and Not the Living, too?

Missy's two step plan makes perfect sense when you look at it in terms of her purpose: she wants to force the Doctor to accept her gift and exercise power. She hangs the threatened cyber-conversion of all the living as a sword over the Doctor's head to make him do so. She says this explicitly:

DOCTOR: Nobody can have that power.
MISSY: You will, because you don't have a choice. The only way you can stop these clouds from opening up and killing all your little pets down here. Conquer the universe, Mister President. Show a bad girl how it's done.
(Missy drops a deep curtsy. The Doctor rips the bracelet off.)
DOCTOR: Why are you doing this?
MISSY: I need you to know we're not so different. I need my friend back. Every battle, every war, every invasion. From now on, you decide the outcome. What's the matter, Mister President? Don't you trust yourself?

(My emphasis.) The whole plan is structured not to defeat the Doctor, but to corrupt him--to make him see the Mistress as his peer, his friend, again. The dead are used because the living are hostages, spared only if the Doctor takes the bait, and actively participates in effectuating Missy's plan.

3. Why Clara?

Missy's putting Clara and the Doctor together likewise works; as we have seen this whole season, Clara has learned exactly the wrong lessons from the Doctor. Her "control freak" aspect, always present, has come increasingly to the fore, as she has come to enjoy power and its exercise. She has become, as the episode makes clear, "an incredible liar." She has become, while not evil, someone who the Mistress (as the Doctor said about her name, a regeneration or two back, "You chose it. Psychiatrist's field day.") understands enough to manipulate. Clara is enough like Missy that Missy can predict how she'll behave. And (the inference seems clear), either she brings about Danny's death, or is aware of it as a fixed point from her scanning of Clara and the Doctor's timeline.

4. Give Me Something to Sing About: What About "The End of Time"?

Back in June, I wrote:

the Doctor has seen his own darkness, and, in revulsion at his own arrogance, is prepared to die to stop the corrupted Time Lords under Rassilon destroying, well, everything. The Master makes the same choice, first telling the Doctor to "get out of the way," mirroring the Doctor's own prior warning to him.

It is hard to imagine a story that brings back the Master without undermining that ending, and though I have always enjoyed the character, I would hate for that to happen. Unless the integrity of the character development can be respected, and a new kind of story told, I'd prefer Moffatt leave the Master in peace.

So, the inevitable question--did the Moff pull it off?

Well, he has found something different, and something that I, personally, find compelling--the Doctor's oldest friend trying to regain her former role in his life, trying to bridge the gap between them, but in a psychotic way that shows that she is still deeply, profoundly damaged. This isn't Eric Roberts's seemingly motiveless malevolence, or even Ainley's game-playing aesthete. The character now is a logical extension of the best of Ainley's Master, and, especially, of Simm's portrayal--less walking wounded, more polished, but still--insane, even against her own best interests. And despite that, and even with the Doctor poised to kill her, there was a kind of meeting of the minds in this story that we haven't seen before--this touch-averse Doctor cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her, thanking her for what he learned through his ordeal. Look at how Micelle Gomez plays that scene again--how gentle her expression is at that moment. And again, when the Doctor chooses to kill his old friend rather than to let Clara do so:

DOCTOR: No. No, don't you dare. I won't let you.
CLARA: Old friend, is she? If you have ever let this creature live, everything that happened today, is on you. All of it, on you. And you're not going to let her live again.
DOCTOR: Clara, all I'm doing is not letting you kill her. I never said I was letting her live.
CLARA: Really?
DOCTOR: If that's the only thing that will stop you, yes.
(Clara hands over the thingy.)
MISSY: Seriously. Oh, Doctor. To save her soul? But who, my dear, will save yours? Say something nice. Please?
DOCTOR: You win.
MISSY: I know.
(The Doctor prepares to vaporise Missy, but another energy bolt gets there first. It was a Cyberman with a dark chest disc. It points to something lying amongst the gravestones.)

The Doctor-Missy dynamic is in a very different place from where it has previously been. Moffatt has found a new story to tell.

A Hermeneutic of Suspicion

There are those who think me unduly cynical about the Roberts Court. In granting review in King v. Burwell, the Supreme Court has teed up a case that might provide me with further grist for my mill. You see, as Abbe Gluck has ably summarized the issue in KIng:

The five words at issue sit in a provision that requires the ACA’s insurance subsidies to be calculated based on premiums for individuals enrolled through an “Exchange established by the State under 1311” (ACA § 1401); the question is whether the IRS properly interpreted the ACA to allow those subsidies also to be available on federally operated exchanges (which now are the majority of exchanges). Section 1311 establishes the state-run exchanges and so, read in a vacuum, Section 1401 appears at first glance to deny the subsidies on federal exchanges. In context, however, the words are at a minimum highly ambiguous, and arguably actually clearly provide for subsidies on the federal exchanges.

Oh, sure, Anglocat, I hear some say. Pick the summary from someone on your side. Who could really believe that non-textual malarkey--and you, a professed textualist, too! Bad cat!

Who indeed could believe such a thing? How about Justices Scalia, Thomas, Alito, and Kennedy in their dissent in NFIB v. Sebelius:

If Congress had thought that States might actually refuse to go along with the expansion of Medicaid, Congress would surely have devised a backup scheme so that the most vulnerable groups in our society, those previously eligible for Medicaid, would not be left out in the cold. But nowhere in the over 900-page Act is such a scheme to be found. By contrast, because Congress thought that some States might decline federal funding for the operation ofa “health benefit exchange,” Congress provided a backup scheme; if a State declines to participate in the operation of an exchange, the Federal Government will step in and operate an exchange in that State. See 42 U. S. C. §18041(c)(1).

(Dissent sec. V(E)(2)) (emphasis added))

Naturally, I think we can all count on these four justices to rule in King in a manner consistent with their prior opinion in NFIB v. Sebelius, right? No? Anyone really think they will?

If not, don't blame me for my lack of trust in the Court's conservative activists.

Veteran's Day, 2014

We don't live in the world of my grandfather (Calvin Schuh, USN, World War I), or of my father's stepfather, my Uncle Fred (Fred Kalkbrenner, who served in the US Army in World War II. In their day, military service was not always voluntary, although they both, as far as I know, enlisted, and was spread over a wide range of society. Military service is now voluntary, a good thing, in my opinion, as I have always agreed with T.H. White that "the one unutterably evil thing about war is conscription." But the volunteer service has changed the military. To take but two ways, pointed out by Karl Eikenberry:

[N]ot having those domestic political constraints inherent in a draft force may have freed otherwise cautious U.S. government decisionmakers to carry out large-/scale extended military operations in both Iraq and Afghanistan. When I have spoken on this topic to various audiences around the country, I ask: "If we had a conscripted military good enough to accomplish the same missions assigned our current volunteer forces (admittedly a bold assumption), would the U.S. have invaded Iraq in 2003 and had almost 100,000 troops stationed in Afghanistan one decade after 9/11?" Never more than one or two participants offer an affirmative response.

***

The second unintended consequence of the AVF, which the Gates Commission did not speculate on, is the potential impact on the quality of civilian oversight and on the willingness of senior military officers to take fair responsibility for their organization’s failures. I believe both have suffered, though the views I offer here are admittedly more informed by personal experience than by quantitative analysis.

These points should give us some pause; we are less invested, socially, in those who serve, because, after all, they choose to do so. They, in the lovely language of lawyers, "assume the risks" of service.

We should not be so cavalier with the lives who enlist to defend our freedoms. I sometimes think we are too flip about decisions involving the lives of those who serve, no matter which party is in power. I'm grateful to all I've known, family and friends who have served. We citizens owe them not just a quick "thanks for your service," but an ongoing commitment to not expel their lives loosely, and to care for them when wounded, or otherwise incapacitated.

I know; bummer of a post on Veteran's Day. We should be honoring those who serve, not hectoring our fellow citizens, right? Maybe; but I can't help but think of those who have not been received the care that is their due.

"I Don't Wanna Go"--to the Supremes, I Mean

Today's decision in DeBoer v. Snyder is poorly reasoned, in tension with multiple decisions by other circuits, and slipshod in the extreme. It is also a case that purports to prize the unknown and unknowable "original intent" of the Framers of the Fourteenth Amendment over the Amendment's actual text. The dissent makes these points, and others which I frankly can't be bothered to make. Other than to note that by the reasoning employed by two of the three members of the panel, the Fourteenth Amendment's protections would not extend to any group other than the freed slaves (and maybe their descendants. Maybe.) Michael Kent Curtis demolished that argument back in the 1980s. Hell, even I had a run at it a decade ago, so you can read my views at no tedious length there, and not make me rehash them here.

But for all that the panel decision has created a split between the circuits, I'd seek an en banc review rather by the whole Sixth Circuit rather than a writ of certiorari. Because, honestly? I've lost my faith in the Supreme Court pretty much completely. It's a purely political bench, these days, at least the majority, as witness the Hobby Lobby and Shelby County cases. Yeah, I think Justice Kennedy will probably hang in there with his prior decisions on the line, but why trust these guys (and I do mean the guys) if you don't have to? If en banc review vacates the panel decision, no circuit split exists, and every marriage in every state increases the pressure to maintain the pro-equality status quo.

I know I sound rather cynical, but--seriously; these guys have recently voided the 15th Amendment and raised the statutory free exercise of religion rights of fictional entities over he statutory rights of real, y'know, people.

I'd only go to them as a last resort.

Where Do We Go From Here?

For those of us Americans who are progressives in our political leanings, last night and today were hard indeed. It is not pretty to see those you support go down to defeat, while those who you believe are seeking to guide the Nation in the wrong direction triumph. I could write multiple versions of this post--the angry, splenetic one, the rhetorical firestorm, the wistful "if only they knew" one.

But what good would any of them do, for any of my readers or for myself.

We lost. We've won in the past, we may again. Or not.

I don't want to minimize my displeasure at this election, my conviction that this is a disaster in terms of our taking action on issues that I think are critically important--but those of you who read this blog, or know me in real life, know that.

So what's the point?

This: Be the change you want to see. Yes, vote; yes, organize; yes, do what you do. But do more: Live with your neighbors, work among them, find the little ways that you can make the world around you a little less cruel or ugly, and draw comfort from that. And remember that those with whom we disagree are not our enemies. If we think of them as enemies--why, that's what they'll be. Somewhere, somehow, we all need to stop the fire of righteous anger from burning down the house. Because we all have to live in it.

Think of what the fire-eating chaplain learns all too late after watching the execution of Joan in Shaw's Saint Joan:

THE CHAPLAIN [clutching at his hand] My lord, my lord: for Christ's sake pray for my wretched guilty soul.

WARWICK [soothing him] Yes, yes: of course I will. Calmly, gently--

THE CHAPLAIN [blubbering miserably] I am not a bad man, my lord.

WARWICK. No, no: not at all.

THE CHAPLAIN. I meant no harm. I did not know what it would be like.

WARWICK [hardening] Oh! You saw it, then?

THE CHAPLAIN. I did not know what I was doing. I am a hotheaded fool; and I shall be damned to all eternity for it.

WARWICK. Nonsense! Very distressing, no doubt; but it was not your doing.

THE CHAPLAIN [lamentably] I let them do it. If I had known, I would have torn her from their hands. You don't know: you havnt seen: it is so easy to talk when you dont know. You madden yourself with words: you damn yourself because it feels grand to throw oil on the flaming hell of your own temper. But when it is brought home to you; when you see the thing you have done; when it is blinding your eyes, stifling your nostrils, tearing your heart, then--then--[Falling on his knees] O God, take away this sight from me! O Christ, deliver me from this fire that is consuming me! She cried to Thee in the midst of it: Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! She is in Thy bosom; and I am in hell for evermore.

We are not yet among enemies, though our friendships may be more strained than they should be.

And come back to the fray, and remember the words of the greatest conservative of history:

Meeting Missy: Musing's on the Master's Mutability

And there it is. Beyond the quick "I called it!" response, my first reaction was one of "Oh, this could be interesting…"

And, it's fair to say, it already has been, if only for the reactions of my fellow Whovians. There have been a series of responses, from Philip Sandifer's nuanced appreciation to my good friend Nick Kaufman's equally nuanced claim that "Dark Water is a triumph of style over substance. It’s also a big, honking mess. It’s an interesting mess — it plays with some compelling concepts — but a mess nonetheless."

I am more with Sandifer (whose Tardis Eruditorum I admire enough that I backed it on Kickstarter) than I am with Nick (whose fiction I admire very much). Let me explain why.

1. The TARDIS Key Volcano Scene

The scene in which Clara blackmails the Doctor into rescuing Danny from death is one which I think is completely in character. Clara firmly believes that the Doctor will not use the TARDIS to go back and prevent the accident (experience says she's right), and so she decides to force the Time Lord's hand. It's well in keeping with the Clara who has been, throughout the season, becoming more Doctor-ish, and enjoying the making of the "hard decisions" (which the Doctor himself, at least in this incarnation, does not enjoy. Think of how Twelve had to work himself up to dispelling the "Boneless" in Flatline:

The Doctor: [emerging from the TARDIS to confront the monsters] I tried to talk. I want you to remember that. I tried to reach out. I tried to understand you, but I think you understand us perfectly — I think that you just don't care. And I don't know whether you're here to invade, infiltrate or just replace us — I don't suppose it really matters now. You are monsters! That is the role you seem determined to play! So it seems that I must play mine: the man that stops the monsters. I'm sending you back to your own dimension. Who knows, some of you may even survive the trip. And if you do, remember this: you are not welcome here! This plane is protected! I AM THE DOCTOR! … And I name you: the Boneless!)

Clara's error is that the power and the rush are starting to go to her head, corrupting her a bit.

Her idea is a bit crap, though--as Nick quite rightly points out, the Doctor, and even Clara, can get the TARDIS to let them in with a snap of their fingers. You can hand wave away this inconsistency (if you have a key, and the TARDIS loves you, you can get in…), but it's there. Where I disagree with Nick is his statement that the incident "was a psychic test of her resolve, which she apparently passed and now the Doctor will help her." I don't think that's a correct read of the sequence. I think that the Doctor saw that Clara was desperate, and diverted her into a bid to force his hand that he could control. She didn't pass a test, he diverted a real attempt, and, in fact, was livid with her:

Clara: What do we do now? What happens now, you and me? Doctor?
The Doctor: Go to hell.
Clara: Fair enough. Absolutely fair enough. [walks towards the TARDIS doors]
The Doctor: Clara? You asked me what we're going to do. I told you: we're going to Hell. Or wherever it is where people die. If there is anywhere. Wherever it is, we're going to find Danny, and if it is in any way possible, we're going to bring him home. [smiles] Almost every culture in the universe has some concept of an afterlife. I always meant to have a look around, see if I could find one.
Clara: You're going to help me?
The Doctor: Well, why wouldn't I help you?
Clara: Because of what I just did. I–
The Doctor: You betrayed me. You betrayed my trust, you betrayed our friendship, you betrayed everything I ever stood for. You let me down!
Clara: Then why are you helping me?
The Doctor: Why? Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make any difference?

My emphasis; the Doctor here is showing us that beneath all of the sarcasm, glumness, and irritability, he remains the Doctor--he loves his friends, even when they fail. Also note that, even when he is prepared to risk himself, the TARDIS, and Clara to save Danny--he still won't go back and prevent the accident.

2. Death to Danny!

I should add that Danny's death worked for me; yes, it was senseless, quotidian in the extreme. That's what made it work for me. Life is that way. When I was in high school, a classmate of mine died of an aneurysm right there in class (no, I wasn't in the room, thank God.) Life is that way. Danny survived war, aliens, frickin' tigers, only to lose his concentration and walk into an oncoming car? I have no problem buying that.

3. The Mistress?

Several Whovians have questioned whether the Master, even if regenerating into a female form, would stop referring to herself as the Master. A fair question. The Master has always been a bit camp, especially in his Ainley and Eric Roberts personae (no, really:

See?)

As portrayed by Michelle Gomez, the Mistress is enjoying herself mightily; preening, commanding, a little lubricious, too--she is enjoying herself in an arch way not seen since the Ainley days, say in The Five Doctors. And what she's enjoying in Dark Water is messing with the Doctor's head, with an old Ainley-style alias. Does she really mean to go on being known as "Missy" or the Mistress in future? Maybe; she certainly seems to enjoy her femininity, what with the Poppins-styling, and the accents from later eras. But it's an alias, like the Portreve, Sir Gilles Estram (Master, geddit?), allowing her to spring the good news on the Doctor with a theatrical flourish.

Now, why does the Doctor not sense her telepathically? We don't know yet--we've just had the bare reveal--but I'd imagine it's simple; either a perception filter, or the fact that the Master always was more in control of his psychic powers than the Doctor.

4. "Moffat Evil Woman " No. X in a Series?

Some viewers have caviled that the Mistress "is sexually obsessed with The Doctor–as Moffat’s “Evil Women” seem to be with the titular heroes. (See also: Adler, Irene)." Wa-aal, as Ten might point out, the master has been obsessed with the Doctor since the classic series, and while it was less pronounced with Delgado in the role, by the time Ainley donned the penguin suit, the FoeYay was canon. Gender-swapping did not make the Mistress more obsessed with the Doctor than was the Master.  (Mind you, the critique is considerably more salient as applied to Irene Adler, who is quite indifferent to Holmes in "A Scandal in Bohemia.")

Much depends, I suppose, on whether one enjoys the character of the Master; I do. Delgado especially, but Ainley also made great theatrical, affably evil villains vis a vis Pertwee and especially Davison, respectively. I enjoyed the weird chemistry of the Doctor and the Master--half enmity, half affection. When we got five minutes of Derek Jacobi I wanted more, and Simm versus Tennant worked for me. And I could have let the Master rest there; Davies gave the story a good ending in The End of Time. So I hope Moffat has more to do with the character than just a reboot. But so far, I like the chemistry between Capaldi and Gomez, and Gomez's relish for the part is just what the Doctor ordered, despite himself.

5. Update, 11/4: On a second viewing, the Doctor's first meeting with Missy is even funnier than at first view.  She is clearly waiting for the penny to drop--after the kiss, she looks at him to see if he gets it, then she puts his hand over her hearts--no, still nothing; this Doctor's social awkwardness and shock at being touched have flummoxed him.  She drops a leaden compliment, getting the Doctor to (as other characters used to routinely do in the old series) ask "Doctor Who?" and finally moves on, calling Dr, Chang in a moment of pure frustration.  It's a great slow burn--he gets none of the hints, and she's bursting with excitement.  A nice piece of character building from  the Moff, deftly handled by Gomez and Capaldi.