First broadcast on Christmas Day 2008, The Next Doctor marks the beginning of the final run of David Tennant’s tenure as the Tenth Doctor. Written by Russell T Davies and directed by Andy Goddard, this special was the first of five to follow the dramatic events of Series Four's finale. Set in snowy Victorian London and featuring the return of the Cybermen, The Next Doctor is a curious, enjoyable hybrid of festive adventure and existential reflection. Rewatching in 2025, it still carries the weight of an era beginning its final act, even as it offers rollicking holiday entertainment.
The title alone was enough to fuel speculation when the episode was first announced. Was this to be the first look at the Eleventh Doctor? Was David Tennant regenerating on Christmas Day? Would this be a new direction for the series, handed off mid-special? Those questions drove fan theories and headlines alike. And then came the casting of David Morrissey, an actor more than capable of taking on the role. The possibility hung tantalisingly over the first act, and the script plays with that ambiguity to great effect.
Morrissey’s Jackson Lake is introduced during a Cyberman attack, swinging in with charm, confidence, and a sonic screwdriver. He’s convinced he’s the Doctor, and even has a fob watch and a TARDIS (which, brilliantly, is a hot air balloon labelled Tethered Aerial Release Developed In Style). For much of the first half, the story allows the audience to sit with the uncertainty. Is this a post-regeneration Doctor with amnesia? Has something gone awry in the timeline? Tennant plays the scenes with a mixture of amusement and unease, curious to know who—or what—he’s just met.
The truth, when it comes, is tragic. Jackson isn’t the Doctor. He’s a man broken by trauma, having lost his wife to the Cybermen and repressed the memory of her death. The Doctor persona is a psychological defence mechanism, a way to cope with loss by imagining himself as a hero. The reveal is sensitively handled, and Morrissey shines in the role. His vulnerability adds emotional depth to a story that could otherwise have leaned too heavily on misdirection.
As for the real Doctor, Tennant is in fine form here. This story represents a subtle tonal shift in his portrayal. He’s still energetic and witty, but there’s a sadness creeping in—a sense that the weight of his experiences is beginning to catch up with him. When he says, “They break my heart,” in reference to his companions, it lands with melancholy resonance. Tennant plays this moment with understated sorrow, planting the emotional seeds that will blossom in the specials to come.
The villains of the piece are the Cybermen, escaped from the Void following the events of Doomsday. They're supported by the red-robed Cyber Shades and led by Miss Mercy Hartigan, played by Dervla Kirwan with gleeful menace. Hartigan is a fascinating character in her own right—a woman rising from Victorian oppression to become a Cyber-King, only to realise too late the cost of power without emotion. Her final scenes are operatic, and the image of the towering Cyber-King stomping through London is visually spectacular, if perhaps a little too CGI-heavy for the production values of the time.
Tonally, the episode is classic Christmas special: it blends steampunk whimsy, Dickensian setting, and over-the-top villainy with just enough thematic weight to balance the silliness. The Doctor and Jackson scaling the Cyber-King in a hot air balloon is absurd and delightful, and Murray Gold’s score underlines every emotional beat with just the right balance of warmth and grandeur.
Rewatching in 2025, The Next Doctor retains its charm. It’s not as narratively groundbreaking as the title first suggested, but it works on multiple levels. It’s a showcase for two strong leads, an engaging standalone story, and a meditation on identity and grief. It also marks the start of the Tenth Doctor’s swan song—a series of specials that will test and ultimately transform him.
The closing scene, in which Jackson invites the Doctor to Christmas dinner, is one of quiet beauty. The Doctor, so often alone, accepts. For a brief moment, he lets someone in. It’s a subtle, hopeful gesture at the end of a story built on loss and mistaken identity. And in true Doctor Who fashion, it reminds us that heroism isn’t about names or titles—it’s about heart.
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