"Vincent and the Doctor"

It seems the done thing to knock Richard Curtis nowadays. This is the man who has pretty much defined the British romantic comedy, a genre that critics are notoriously unforgiving with, plus he is, of course, very successful at what he does, which is offensively un-British. Speaking for myself, I have not been that enamoured of his more recent work, but it must be remembered that this man wrote for Not the Nine O'Clock News, co-created The Black Adder and wrote The Tall Guy. To this list must now be added "Vincent and the Doctor", a story that, I am sure, will rank as one of the best Doctor Who adventures of all time.

The story is simple- the Doctor notices a monster peeking out of the window in Vincent Van Gogh’s The Church at Auvers, so he travels back with Amy to help Vincent defeat it, even though only Vincent can see it. However, the story is only secondarily an adventure- it is, first and foremost, about Van Gogh. Vincent is not a madman by our standards- what he had would be manageable nowadays- and Curtis does not make him a figure of fun- there is not even the hint of an ear joke. The reason Vincent can see the monster is because he sees things like no other person has seen them before- colours swirl and coalesce into vibrant noumenal patterns in his mind to such a point that subjectivity and objectivity have no meaning. He sees the monster, because he sees what is there, not just what his eyes tell him. However, in a world before antidepressants, Van Gogh is tormented by despair that saps at his very being. Curtis’s depiction of Van Gogh’s depression is very moving, making it accessible to children as well- the Doctor’s summing up of what makes up a life is easy to follow, yet beautifully written. This is helped in no small way by Tony Curran’s performance. Despite, seemingly, never being out of work, Curran has never really been given the chance to shine, something which has been rectified here- possibly the finest performance of his film and television career and one of the best ever guest performances in Doctor Who. Curran vibrantly brings to life the unpredictability and passion of the artist in a performance that is worthy of a straight biopic of Van Gogh.

The production is a of the fantastic standard we have come to expect. Obviously, the cinematography owes something to Van Gogh’s style and Director of Photography Tony Slater-Ling makes this one of the most beautiful pieces of television I have ever seen. My misgivings over Jonny Campbell’s directorial ability have totally evaporated, with him constructing scene after memorable scene that makes the story more magical as it goes along and I must be predictable in drawing attention to the magnificent scene where Amy, Vincent and the Doctor are staring up at the sky, which slowly turns into The Starry Night.

The regulars continue to excel. Matt Smith shows the Doctor at his most barmy and his most compassionate with practically everything in between and the tender bond between Amy and Vincent is beautifully realised by Karen Gillan. The other major supporting role is Bill Nighy’s Dr Black. Nighy (who has been a favourite candidate for the role of the Doctor since the late nineties) brings an irresistible blend of authority and lovability to the role that works brilliantly with the regulars and Curran.

The end shows the Doctor proving to Vincent that his name will last forever, that his life will have been one that made an indelible mark. This scene should have been cheesy and manipulative; instead, it is utterly gorgeous and Curtis rounds the story off in the best way it could have- depression is not logical and Vincent Van Gogh, in the knowledge that he would be acclaimed as one of the greatest artists who ever lived, took his own life. His genius will last forever, but so will the sadness.

This is a glorious story, one which reminds me of the great historical of the Hartnell era. It is as gorgeous, evocative and moving to viewers now as Marco Polo must have been in 1964- and I can think of no higher praise than that.

NEXT: "The Lodger"