This is the best summary I could come up with:

When one Doctor biologically passes the torch to another, they do so in fire: a cascading, revitalizing burst of energy that blinds, dazzles, destroys, changes, and births in equal measure.

Even when it’s dark, even when it’s sad, the Doctor and Ruby are bonded by this shared yearning to see more of what’s out there, driven by this connection they feel together, one as the last of their people, the other searching for their birth parents.

With fresh eyes for both Time Lord and human alike, their wanderlust is infectious, suffusing Doctor Who with that aforementioned energy, something it feels like it hasn’t always had in recent years.

You barely have time to, between the delectably chaotic storm Gatwa and Gibson wreak, and the stories bouncing from one moment to the next, almost like they’re hoping you don’t try to stop and think about the logistics of what’s going on for too long.

A bright flash, a chaotic change, a brimming energy that pings about, and takes a little while to settle before they get stuck into the heady business of saving the universe?

It’s more fitting that Doctor Who’s latest era hits the ground running in the manner it does—confident enough that it has enough energy to drag us along for the ride too, and get wrapped up in the same sense of adventure that its new heroes share.

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