The Great BF Listen-Thru | Round 1 | Asking For A Friend

You know, for the sixth story in an arc, and the second story in the boxset, and for being extremely dependent on the context of that greater arc... Asking For A Friend works amazingly well as a standalone story. This is an excellent script, without so much as a single wasted word, and it manages to accomplish so much with its characters -- while still more than adequately conveying the greater context of the collapsing universe that this entire arc is all about. It's wonderful.

Particularly effective is the opening scene. From the Doctor stating "I'm an open book," to the next word out of his mouth being a curt, "No," you know you're in for a ride. I have almost nothing but praise for this one, I'm afraid; my one overriding thought after concluding the story was just, "I wonder if anyone's ever had to ask David Warner for a second take?" It's hard to imagine the man ever delivering a line that wasn't perfection itself.

But just for a change of pace, let's dig into the two small aspects of this story I didn't like as much.

First, there's the climax. It's just a little contrived. Just how, exactly, does the therapist know what, specifically, the Doctor changed about her life? It's a little forced. It's necessary for the story to work, and I can't think of a better method to get there (especially given how economic the explanation is), but that doesn't save me from wishing, in the back of my mind, that perhaps there was a more elegant way of doing the same thing, just as quickly. Probably not, but the thought, once lodged, is difficult to dislodge.

Secondly, I don't like the specifics of the Doctor's reconciliation with Benny. Her coming back to the Doctor, declaring herself his friend? That's great. Only the moment doesn't feel genuine, because her friendship is (accidentally, I hope) depicted as purely transactional: because the Doctor couldn't save the planet, she denounced him; because he could save the planet, she declares her friendship with him. She says, "That's what friends do," but that's not true, is it? What a friend would do would be to support each other even when they make mistakes, even when they fail.

This touches on an aspect of the Moffat-era of Doctor Who that I really didn't like, where characters consistently refused to treat the Doctor like an actual person, but instead a storybook hero -- someone who was not allowed to fail. I think the ending of Asking For A Friend would've been much more powerful without that last-minute save of that random planet, and allowed Benny to come to terms with the Doctor more as a person than a hero -- for the relationship between the two to be on equal terms, like all genuine friendships must be.


Something that's been bouncing in the back of my brain for a while now, that maybe one day I'll manage to write up in-depth, is the idea that the Doctor is insane, and the Master is sane, due to how they approach their lives and the power they wield. And I think you're kind of hitting on why I think that, here: to me, though, it's less that the Doctor sees himself as being above the people he saves and more that he literally is above him: his status as a time-traveling immortal gives him a "higher" perspective. A perspective that warps (one might say taints) his perspective of everyone he meets -- allowing him to play god with mortals' lives as nothing more than a pleasantry, as we see here.

I am reminded of a quote I only half-remember, from a 7th Doctor story whose title I've long-forgotten, to the effect of the Doctor living in a world where everyone he's ever met is simultaneously alive forever and dead for so long they've crumbled to dust. To be able to live with such a perspective, while still holding onto ones humanity -- for want of a better term -- seems insanity itself. 

I agree (especially with regard to the aspect of the ending I complained about -- that seems very much like something Moffat'd do). It's also one of those rare Doctor Who stories that's reliant on time travel, which is another hallmark of Moffat's writing.

That said, I can't help but think about how differently this story would be if it featured any of the others Doctors. The script could be mostly the same, true, but I think I can't really imagine it being identical -- particularly the ending w/ the therapist. For example, I can see Matt Smith playing a story like this more humorously -- I'm sure it'd be enjoyable, but it wouldn't be the same. The one crucial difference with Warner's Doctor, I think, and the thing that really elevates this Doctor above the "prime universe" counterparts, is his fallibility. (Yet another reason that aspect of the ending rubbed me the wrong way). This is a Doctor who can and does fail, often to disastrous results. He didn't dramatically press a big red button to genocide the Time Lords, or dramatically press thirteen small red buttons to not-genocide Lords, rather he's the Doctor who got down in the trenches of a war while empathizing with both sides, tried to broker a peace, couldn't, and simply left them to die rather than die fighting alongside them. It's less dramatic -- perhaps less melodramatic -- than what the "prime Doctors" offer us, but, to my mind, far more compelling. Far more human.


Most-emphatically agreed. I'm very thankful for every story with David Warner that we have, even if every single one leaves me wishing for more. In fact, it's hard to think of a single David Warner performance that didn't leave me wanting more. Just one more scene, just one more line, just one more moment. Yes, it has indeed been a privilege. And a delight.


A good start indeed. It's hard to imagine a finer story to set the tone. And, as I said just a moment ago, it works surprisingly well on its own -- though I do wonder what one might think of it without even the memories of the full boxset percolating in the background.

As for the wiki, I was indeed unaware, thanks for letting me know. EDIT: and I've fixed all of the links here and in the hub thread.