The first Doctor Who story shown after I was born was “Day of the Daleks.” While we should never ask women their age, I suppose I’m safe in telling you good readers that Marie is a Pertwee girl. And our son, the reason for this blog, can claim “The Curse of the Black Spot” as the first Who shown after he decided he was ready to see the world. I think Mom and Dad got the better end of the deal.
So to be fair, it’s entirely probable that a big reason that series six and seven kind of landed with thuds for me is because we suddenly had a really big new distraction in our lives, and there were one or two stories that we watched without a great deal of focus and never got around to revisiting. But it turns out that I remembered “The Curse of the Black Spot” pretty clearly. It’s just that it doesn’t have any hidden gems or forgotten excellence. It’s a forgettable hour that doesn’t do much of anything wrong; it just doesn’t do what it does with any thrill or gusto. The only thing I don’t actually like is the overpowering music during Rory’s CPR scene.
The kid was happy. He was amused to learn that this is his “birthday” episode of Who and enjoyed lots of pirates running around. There are a couple of races against time and a good game of “how is the siren getting in” for kids to sink their teeth into, so he was happy enough for an hour. Maybe it’ll stick with him longer?
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