The Doctor Who comic strip goes into colour and the creative team don’t waste the opportunity: from the alien landscape of Ophidius and underwater scenes on Kyrol, to mid-20th century Mexico and the steampunky vistas of Oblivion and the TARDIS itself, page after page displays a rich palette of evocative and frankly gorgeous experimentation with colour. There is even a foray into greys and sepia tones in (appropriately) Me And My Shadow.
It’s not quite enough to stop me missing the intricate detail that has characterised the Eighth Doctor run up to this point, but there’s no questioning the efforts to make the most of the new format, including some special effects that wouldn’t have been possible until this point (most notably with the arrival of the Horde). This is probably also as consistent as the artwork has ever been in any run of Doctor Who comics: Martin Geraghty continues to provide an incredibly strong backbone to the series, his dynamic approach to layouts and perspectives setting the tone for the run and allowing for some astonishing moments of storytelling (the climactic Izzy/Destrii confrontation in particular). It has the effect of making Lee Sullivan’s familiar style feel a little unsophisticated by comparison (though he does draw a good Dalek), whereas John Ross fits into the run perfectly, bring a more angular style at a point where it seems to match the Doctor's spiky mood. Finally, it is a joy (as always) to see Adrian Salmon’s work in the stylish one-off Character Assassin, in which he effortlessly integrates colour into his distinctive visuals.
It feels mean-spirited to point to flaws, but in the aftermath of the groundbreaking and endlessly imaginative Glorious Dead arc some of this does seem like style over substance. Ophidius leans towards comic book sci-fi cliché far more than the strip has done in ages (the Ophidians’ look and plan could have come out of a Dan Dare comic) and the satire of its direct sequel Uroborus doesn’t quite compensate for the plodding narrative; evocative though The Way of All Flesh is, the plot is pretty flimsy and its resolution perfunctory. Where the strength of these stories lie is in their characters – Diego and Frida, the crew of the Argus, Jodafra and the other nobles of Oblivion, are all powerfully realised creations with complex emotional journeys, supporting the depth of the key emotional arc that runs through this cycle, that of Izzy and Destrii.
What Izzy goes through, and what it leads towards in the final pages of Oblivion, is a more sophisticated journey than most TV companions are given (even in these modern times when they’re allowed to emote all over the screen given any opportunity). The success of this storyline reaches its epitome in the exquisite Beautiful Freak, in which the art and writing complement each other perfectly in a moment of pure character-driven reflection. It’s difficult to imagine many other times when the Doctor Who comic strip – when any comic strip, for that matter – would have been able to do something like this.
Developing such a thematically strong series with relatively few words and frames to play with is absolutely masterful, and if the stories themselves don’t quite match the bells and whistles of the previous two volumes, I can’t fault the ambition to take the strip in a more character-driven direction, nor the success with which it is realised. Once again, this feels like a team at the height of their powers: immensely inventive and still able to surprise and unsettle. Doctor Who at its best.