For starters, Curtis has no track record writing science-fiction or fantasy (at least not the type one thinks of when bandying about such terms), and while it seemed gratifying to have such a high profile writer onboard, nothing in his works indicated that, with only 45 minutes to play, he’d likely create anything more than an amusing romp. Perhaps it was less Curtis himself, and more the new series having a pretty bad track record when it comes to tackling historical figures, regardless of who’s writing them. In fact, they typically seem to end up…amusing romps. Probably the best was the first one, “The Unquiet Dead,” which featured Charles Dickens, and from there they’ve kind of incrementally gone downhill. I didn’t think the formula could get much worse than “The Unicorn and the Wasp” with Agatha Christie, but along came “Victory of the Daleks” with Winston Churchill to prove me wrong. So imagine my surprise upon discovering that Curtis trashed my expectations by creating a deep, lovely, tortured thing of beauty that reduced me to tears. I have really got to start trusting this guy. His name is a stamp of quality no matter what “they” say.

(Editor’s note: I’ll second that, having interviewed Mr. Curtis in connection with the release of “Pirate Radio.” You can check out the conversation by clicking here.)

“Vincent and the Doctor” is the new standard by which these types of stories will, or at least should be measured. I have never quite understood the point of the Doctor meeting up with famous figures from the past only so that we can laugh at them and their quaint, backwards ways, all while cramming in little in-jokes that play off of what we know about these people from today’s perspective. Curtis presents us with a fictitious riff on van Gogh that lays waste to the previous approach. His story demands that we feel for van Gogh and his problems, which in turn gives the episode a gravitas that’s lacking in stuff like “The Shakespeare Code,” in which young Will was little more than a smarmy Casanova. Curtis comes from a place that has a huge amount of respect for this artist, as well as understanding that van Gogh’s troubled history was a big part of what made him the artist he was. Curtis also wisely avoids tackling the infamous ear-cutting incident, which is something a lesser writer would’ve worked into the story by having the alien lob it off or some such nonsense.

From the very first sequence, the reality of van Gogh (Tony Curran) painting “Wheatfield with Crows” is mixed with the fantastical element of the unknown in the field, disturbing the birds, and thus giving a reason for the crows in the painting in the first place. Quickly the action moves to the present at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris, and before you can say Bill Nighy, there he is, as Dr. Black. At first it seems a somewhat wasted cameo, but lucky for us Nighy returns before the episode is over. The Doctor has taken Amy to see the van Gogh exhibit at the museum. It seems he’s taken her numerous places since their last adventure, and he’s got a guilty conscience about the loss of Rory, who of course Amy no longer even remembers. The painting “The Church at Auvers” catches the Doctor’s eye, as there’s something in one of the church windows that he recognizes as “evil.” And so it’s off to 1890 to get to the bottom of it all.

Now this is where things get complicated, because, as we find out later on, the alien in the window, the Krafayis, is not actually evil at all, but is really a rather pathetic creature, blind and abandoned on Earth by his race. But I think this episode is meant to work on another level entirely, and that the Krafayis is a metaphor for van Gogh’s depression. It is, after all, something only he can see, but others can not. So if that is the case, does depression equal evil? It certainly can for the person who suffers from it (and I speak with a fair amount of experience on the matter). This is a story that is in part about an invisible monster, but the Krafayis is merely a vessel for a much more important issue. I’m frankly rather stunned that “Doctor Who” found a way to tackle such a weighty topic under the guise of family entertainment. It goes to show that this can be done on this series, provided you have a writer who’s sharp enough to figure out the proper equation.

In many ways, “Vincent and the Doctor” is one of the most mature stories this series has ever seen. It’s interesting to note that when it first aired on the BBC, the following message ran over the end credits: “If you’ve been affected by the issues raised in this program, and you’d like details and information and support, go to bbc.co.uk/headroom.” The message also offered up a phone number that people could call for help if they needed it. Once Vincent kills the Krafayis, he momentarily appears to be lost without it, as if the Krafayis gave definition to his life, just as mental illnesses tend to do. But once the Krafayis is truly gone, Vincent is a new man, with a new lease on life. It may be worth mentioning that the episode title is “Vincent and the Doctor” and not “Vincent and The Doctor,” which might refer to the role of the Doctor as a healer in the story, rather than his title and/or name.

This is also a great Amy episode, maybe even the first great episode for her character, and Karen Gillan really shines here – literally; she looks radiant throughout the piece. Her reaction to Vincent is star struck only at first, and then she quickly begins seeing him as a real, flesh and blood person. There’s that great moment when the two are walking and he senses the loss of Rory in her. His desire to marry and have 12 children with her, and her desire for him to recognize the beauty of sunflowers – lovely stuff. And it’s heartbreaking when she says “I’m not really the marrying kind.” Part of this episode’s triumph is how effortlessly is seems to work through her loss despite the fact she has no memory of it. (Part of me wonders if some of those touches were Steven Moffat’s.)

“Vincent and the Doctor” concludes with two stunning sequences. In the first, the Doctor, Amy and Vincent lay beneath the stars, while Vincent orates about the night sky, and the vastness of the universe. As he does so, “The Starry Night” is painted in the sky, which is one of the most unexpected uses of CGI I’ve ever seen in this series. It’s a breathtaking, beautiful scene, full of newfound life and camaraderie. In the second, the Doctor and Amy take van Gogh to the Musée d’Orsay in 2010 to show him the exhibit featuring his work, and all the people who have gathered to partake in it. It’s perfectly scored to a hopeful pop song (“Chances” by Athlete), no less, which is a Richard Curtis trademark if ever I’ve seen one. What happens here is one of those things that the Doctor just isn’t supposed to do. We’re used to him showing off the inside of the TARDIS to unsuspecting folk – but actually taking someone on a trip to see his future? It succeeds because it breaks that rule here and now, and gives this suicidal man some hope in the final months of his life. Just the heartbreak of joy on Curran’s face is enough to justify doing this sequence, but on top of that you’ve got Bill Nighy delivering this stunning, passionate manifesto on van Gogh – in a way that maybe only Nighy can do – that takes it right up over the top. (Please find a way to bring this character back at some point.) Man oh man, it makes the heart swell. Curran, by the way, is surely the greatest guest actor we’ve had all season. What a talent. He’s someone we should all be paying much more attention to in the coming years.

The Doctor: “The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant. And we definitely added to his pile of good things.”

If it isn’t already obvious, I dearly loved “Vincent and the Doctor.” I love it so much that you risk offending me if you offer up a contrary opinion. With the new series, I’ve come to rely on, at the very least, one episode per season blowing me away. Yeah, that’s how low my standards are. As long as there’s that one installment that just changes everyone’s (or at least my) perception of what this show can be about, then it’s doing well by me. Not every single episode can rewrite the book and be brilliant, but 1 out of 13 isn’t terrible in the realm of TV produced for the masses, and make no mistake, “Doctor Who” at this point is designed to appeal to the widest audience it can snag. Of course, I know it’s foolhardy to expect everyone to enjoy this and see it as I did, but if you didn’t, I won’t understand you, and I’ll feel the same kind of slack-jawed amazement I feel when someone tells me they didn’t like “Love Actually,” or that they thought it was schmaltzy crap. I might even suggest that you go invest in a heart.

Please Mr. Curtis, come back to the “Who” fold next time you have a great idea for this show, because it needs you, as do we. And, yes, bowties are cool.

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NEXT TIME: It looks as if BBC America is taking yet another weekend off due to the holiday. We started out this season two weeks behind the U.K. and now we’re going to be a month behind. Ack. The week after, the Doctor rents a room in “The Lodger,” guest-starring James Corden.

Classic “Who” DVD Recommendation of the Week: I don’t know if I’ve ever, in my history of writing these recaps, recommended “City of Death” with Tom Baker and Lalla Ward. Widely considered one the best stories from the entirety of the classic series, it’s written by Douglas Adams (using a pseudonym), involves a plot to steal the Mona Lisa, and has cameos from John Cleese and Eleanor Bron. Exquisite. Absolutely exquisite.

(Thanks as always to Sonic Biro for the screencaps.)

Yes, with just one really big new release this week, it’s looking like Sony and Roland Emmerich’s eschatological extravaganza, “2012,” will most definitely take the box office crown this weekend. Prognosticators are, however, offering a pretty broad range of possible results. Pamela McClintock of Variety says that “observers” are guessing the mega-disaster tale will make “north” of $40 million “or even substantially more” on its opening. The ever jolly Carl DiOrio of The Hollywood Reporter gets more specific on the “substantially more” and suggests that those mysterious tracking surveys mean that $55-65 million is “doable” for the first would-be blockbuster I’ve ever heard of to be based on the Mayan calendar. Some of this speculation, of course, is based on the large success ($186.7 million domestically) of Emmerich’s other mass destruction based sci-fi flick from 2004, “The Day After Tomorrow.”

Still, there are some issues, including an outsize running time of 2 hours and 38 minutes, forty minutes longer than “Day.” Predictably, most critics are making fun of the film. Let’s face it, Emmerich isn’t exactly known for thoughtful cinema. Still, while the film only scores a meager 32% “fresh” on Rotten Tomatoes, it does seem to generate a certain number of backhanded compliments from those who think it edges into guilty pleasure territory, including from our own David Medsker and a darn funny, three-star review by the Chicago Tribune‘s Michael Phillips. In any event, that running time could be an issue in terms of number of shows per day and also simply by annoying impatient filmgoers. However, the teen boys who go to this stuff never seem to mind a long running time if they get their share of thud and blunder and, by all accounts, “2012” provides oodles of some of the best wanton destruction in some time.

Being released in some 882 theaters, as compared to 3,404 for “2012,” is Focus Features’ “Pirate Radio.” It’s a shortened version of a fact-inspired comedy that was called “The Boat That Rocked” in the UK. Writer-director Richard Curtis of “Love, Actually,” “Four Weddings and a Funeral,” and cult TV favorite “Blackadder,” is once again splitting critics with this ode to the glory days of sixties pop. However, a running theme in the reviews appears to be that, for a comedy about a bunch of radio rebels forcing their way illegally onto English airwaves during the heyday of sex, drugs, and rock and roll, it’s a bit polite. And so, the RT rating is a mehish 56% as of this writing.

I should add, though, that there’s something about Richard Curtis — I’d guess it’s gratuitous niceness — that tends to make some critics underrate his films. “Love, Actually” was a terrific piece of work in my own opinion, but it only earned an RT rating of 63%, though it also earned roughly a million bucks for each percentage point. Will Harris, who got to travel to our nation’s mother country to participate in the press junket for “Pirate Radio” is of a like mind, but feels this effort is worthy but a bit less wonderful its predecessor. (Will’s interviews from his trip are highly recommended. I suggest you start with Richard Curtis.)

And that’s it for the major/semi-major releases, but there’s some very interesting action amongst the limited flicks. First, as per Box Office Mojo, the critically lauded, sure-to-be Oscar nominated “Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire,” which did amazing limited release business last weekend for Lions Gate with a per-screen average of $100,000 in 18 theaters, is expanding to 174 screens this weekend. Apparition/Sony’s critically derided and sure to be utterly un-awarded “Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day” is bumping up to 244 screens after showing some cult strength.

Finally, in an interesting strategy for a fairly high profile animated family film with an all-star voice cast, “Fantastic Mr. Fox” — from Fox, naturally — is opening in four theaters this weekend. The thinking here is, I’m guessing, that this isn’t just any animated family film based on a popular children’s book by Roald Dahl, but one directed by arthouse fave Wes Anderson. Though there may, or may not, have been significant issues during its making, it wound up with great reviews. In fact, the painstakingly non-CGI puppet animation is collecting the most consistently good notices of Anderson’s entire remarkable career, as reckoned by Rotten Tomatoes, beating even his instant classic “Rushmore” by four points. So, giving “Mr. Fox” a little time to percolate and spread some good word of mouth by opening it more slowly makes a lot of sense. It’s a strategy that should be used a lot more often, with good movies that is.