(Autumn. Something cuts a swathe through the ripe wheat, scaring the
crows. The event is caught on canvas by an avant-garde artist.)
(Wheatfield with crows is now hanging on a gallery
wall with an expert enthusing over it to his audience.)
BLACK: So this is one of the last paintings Van Gogh ever painted.
Those final months of his life were probably the most astonishing
artistic outpouring in history. It was like Shakespeare knocking off
Othello, Macbeth and King Lear over the summer hols. And especially
astonishing because Van Gogh did it with no hope of praise or reward.
He is now
AMY: Thanks for bringing me.
DOCTOR: You're welcome.
AMY: You're being so nice to me. Why are you being so nice to me?
DOCTOR: I'm always nice to you.
AMY: Not like this. These places you're taking me. Arcadia, the Trojan
Gardens, now this. I think it's suspicious.
DOCTOR: What? It's not. There's nothing to be suspicious about.
AMY: Okay, I was joking. Why aren't you?
BLACK: Each of these pictures now is worth tens of millions of pounds,
yet in his lifetime he was a commercial disaster. Sold only one
painting, and that to the sister of a friend. We have here possibly the
greatest artist of all time, but when he died you could sold his entire
body of work and got about enough money to buy a sofa and a couple of
chairs. If you follow me now
CHILD: Who is it?
CHILD 2: It's the doctor.
(The Doctor turns. The schoolboys are looking at the portrait of Doctor
CHILD 2: He was the doctor who took care of Van Gogh when he started to
CHILD: I knew that.
AMY: Look. There it is. The actual one.
(Amy holds the picture in her Van Gogh exhibition guide book next to
the painting of the
Church at Auvers.)
DOCTOR: Yes. You can almost feel his hand painting it right in front of
you, carving the colours into shapes. Wait a minute.
DOCTOR: Well, just look at that.
DOCTOR: Something very not good indeed.
AMY: What thing very not good?
DOCTOR: Look there, in the window of the church.
(A dragon-like image.)
AMY: Is it a face?
DOCTOR: Yes. And not a nice face at all. I know evil when I see it and
I see it in that window.
(The Doctor goes over to Doctor Black, who is at the Still Life with
BLACK: It has changed hands for something in the region of twenty
DOCTOR: Excuse me. If I can just interrupt for one second. Sorry,
everyone. Routine inspection, Ministry of Art and Artiness. So, er
BLACK: Doctor Black.
DOCTOR: Yes, that's right. Do you know when that picture of the church
BLACK: Ah, well, ah, well, what an interesting question. Most people
DOCTOR: I'm going to have to hurry you. When was it?
DOCTOR: As exactly as you can. Without a long speech, if poss. I'm in a
BLACK: Well, in that case, probably somewhere between the first and
third of June.
DOCTOR: What year?
BLACK: 1890. Less than a year before, before he killed himself.
DOCTOR: Thank you, sir. Very helpful indeed. Nice bow-tie. Bow-ties are
BLACK: Yours is very
DOCTOR: Oh, thank you. Keep telling them stuff. We need to go.
AMY: What about the other pictures?
DOCTOR: Art can wait. This is life and death. We need to talk to
Vincent Van Gogh.
(Night. The Tardis materialises in a narrow alley,
scaring a cat.)
DOCTOR: Right, so, here's the plan. We find Vincent and he leads us
straight to the church and our nasty friend.
AMY: Easy peasy.
DOCTOR: Well, no. I suspect nothing will be easy with Mister Van Gogh.
Now, he'll probably be in the local cafe. Sort of orangey light, chairs
and tables outside.
(Amy looks in her exhibition guide book. The Doctor is pronouncing Gogh
completely incorrectly, by the way. It should sound more like Hock.)
AMY: Like this?
DOCTOR: That's the one.
AMY: Or indeed like that.
DOCTOR: Yeah, exactly like that.
[Outside the cafe]
DOCTOR: Good evening. Does the name Vincent Van
Gogh ring a bell?
MAURICE: Don't mention that man to me.
(The manager stalks back inside.)
DOCTOR: Excuse me. Do you know Vincent Van Gogh?
WAITRESS: He's drunk, he's mad and he never pays his bills.
DOCTOR: Good painter, though, eh?
(General hilarity ensues at the very idea.)
VINCENT [OC]: Come on! Come on! One painting for one drink. That's not
a bad deal.
(Maurice leads his impecunious customer outside.)
MAURICE: It wouldn't be a bad deal if the painting were any good. I
can't hang that up on my walls. It'd scare the customers half to death.
It's bad enough having you in here in person, let alone looming over
the customers day and night in a stupid hat. You pay money or you get
DOCTOR: I'll pay, if you like.
DOCTOR: Well, if you like, I'll pay for the drink. Or I'll pay for the
painting and you can use the money to pay for the drink.
VINCENT: Exactly who are you?
DOCTOR: Oh, I'm new in town.
VINCENT: Well, in that case, you don't know three things. One, I pay
for my own drinks, thank you. (laughter) Two, no one ever buys any of
my paintings or they would be laughed out of town. So if you want to
stay in town, I suggest you keep your cash to yourself. And three, your
friend's cute, but you should keep your big nose out of other people's
business. Come on, just one more drink. I'll pay tomorrow.
VINCENT: Or, on the other hand, slightly more compassionately, yes?
MAURICE: Or, on the other hand, to protect my business from madmen, no.
AMY: Oh look, just shut up, the pair of you. I would like a bottle of
wine, please, which I will then share with whomever I choose.
VINCENT: That could be good.
MAURICE: That's good by me.
(Maurice gives Vincent his Self-portrait with Straw Hat back and goes
inside with Amy.)
(Later, at a table inside.)
VINCENT: That accent of yours. You from Holland like me?
DOCTOR: She means yes. So, start again. Hello, I'm the Doctor.
VINCENT: I knew it!
VINCENT: My brother's always sending doctors, but you won't be able to
DOCTOR: Oh, no, not that kind of doctor. That's incredible, don't you
AMY: Absolutely. One of my favourites.
VINCENT: One of my favourite whats? You've never seen my work before.
AMY: Ah yes. One of my favourite paintings that I've ever seen,
VINCENT: Then you can't have seen many paintings, then. I know it's
terrible. It's the best I can do. Your hair's orange.
AMY: Yes. So's yours.
VINCENT: Yes. It was more orange, but now is, of course, less.
DOCTOR: So. Er, Vincent, painted any churches recently? Any churchy
plans? Are churches, chapels, religiousy stuff like that, something
you'd like to get into? You know, fairly soon?
VINCENT: Well, there is one church I'm thinking of painting when the
weather is right.
DOCTOR: That is very good news.
(An older woman runs in, screaming.)
WOMAN: She's been murdered! Help me!
DOCTOR: That, on the other hand, isn't quite such good news. Come on,
MAN [OC]: She's been ripped to shreds!
DOCTOR: Please, let me look. I'm a doctor.
WOMAN 2 [OC]: Who is it?
DOCTOR: Oh no, no, no.
MAN [OC]: Is she dead?
MOTHER: Away, all of you vultures. This is my daughter. Giselle. What
monster could have done this? Get away from her!
DOCTOR: Okay, okay.
MOTHER: Get that madman out of here!
(The crowd start throwing stones at Vincent. The Doctor and Amy get
MOTHER: You bring this on us. Your madness! You!
WOMAN 2: He's to blame!
DOCTOR: Are you all right?
VINCENT: Yes, I'm used to it.
DOCTOR: Has anything like this murder happened here before?
VINCENT: Only a week ago. It's a terrible time.
DOCTOR: As I thought. As I thought. Come on, we'd better get you home.
VINCENT: Where are you staying tonight?
DOCTOR: Oh, you're very kind.
DOCTOR: Dark night. Very starry.
VINCENT: It's not much. I live on my own. But you should be okay for
one night. One night.
AMY: We're going to stay with him?
DOCTOR: Until he paints that church.
VINCENT: Watch out. That one's wet.
(The Bedroom in Arles.)
VINCENT: Sorry about all the clutter.
DOCTOR: Some clutter.
VINCENT: I've come to accept the only person who's going to love my
paintings is me.
AMY: Wow. I mean, really. Wow.
VINCENT: Yeah, I know it's a mess. I'll have a proper clear out. I
must, I really must.
(The Doctor and Amy browse the pictures around the room as if they were
in a gallery.)
VINCENT: Coffee, anyone?
DOCTOR: Not for me, actually.
(Vincent puts the coffee pot down on a still life.)
DOCTOR: You know, you should be careful with these. They're precious.
VINCENT: Precious to me. Not precious to anyone else.
AMY: They're precious to me
VINCENT: Well, you're very kind. And kindness is most welcome.
DOCTOR: Right, so, this church, then. Near here, is it?
VINCENT: What is it with you and the church?
DOCTOR: Oh, just casually interested in it, you know.
VINCENT: Far from casual. It seems to me you never talk about anything
else. He's a strange one.
DOCTOR: Okay, so, let's talk about you, then. What are you interested
VINCENT: Well, look around. Art. It seems to me there's so much more to
the world than the average eye is allowed to see. I believe, if you
look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could ever
have dreamed of.
DOCTOR: You don't have to tell me.
VINCENT: It's colour. Colour that holds the key. I can hear the
colours. Listen to them. Every time I step outside, I feel nature is
shouting at me. Come on. Come and get me. Come on. Come on! Capture my
DOCTOR: Maybe you've had enough coffee now. How about some nice calming
tea? Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something, shall we? Amy.
(A scream outside.)
DOCTOR: No, no, no!
DOCTOR: Amy? Amy? What happened?
AMY: I don't know. I didn't see it. I was having a look at the
paintings out here when something hit me from behind.
DOCTOR: It's okay. He's gone now and we're here.
VINCENT: No! No!
DOCTOR: Take it easy. Take it easy!
(Vincent is backing away from something only he can see.)
AMY: What's happening? What's he doing?
DOCTOR: I don't know.
(Vincent picks up a pitchfork.)
DOCTOR: Oh, dear.
VINCENT: Run. Run!
DOCTOR: Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's not a bad idea. Amy, get back. He's
having some kind of fit. I'll try to calm him down.
(Vincent is stabbing at the air.)
DOCTOR: Easy, Vincent, easy. Look. Look, look, look. It's me, it's me,
it's me. It's the Doctor, look. No-one else is here. So, Vincent
VINCENT: Look out!
(A barrel is knocked over then a large scaly tail sends the Doctor
AMY: I can't see anything. What is it?
DOCTOR: That is a good question. Let me help you.
(The Doctor grabs a pole.)
VINCENT: You can see him, too?
DOCTOR: Yes. Ish. Well, no. Not really.
(And gets sent flying again, and something growls.)
VINCENT: You couldn't see him?
DOCTOR: No. No. Oi!
(The Doctor swings wildly while Vincent plunges his pitchfork into the
invisible enemy. Wounded, it leaves. The Doctor continues to fight the
VINCENT: He's gone.
DOCTOR: Oh, right. Yes. Of course.
DOCTOR: Right. So he's invisible. What did he look
VINCENT: I'll show you.
(Vincent paints over a bunch of violets.)
DOCTOR: Oh, no, no. No, no!
DOCTOR: It's just er, that was quite a good. Oh, no. On you go.
(Vincent produces a charcoal sketch of a thing with a wicked beak,
crest and claws.)
DOCTOR: Okay. Okay. Right. Amy, make Mister Van Gogh comfortable. Don't
let any invisible monsters in through the front door.
AMY: But it could be outside, waiting.
DOCTOR: Well, don't worry. I'll risk it. What's the worst that can
AMY: You could get torn into pieces by a monster you can't see.
DOCTOR: Oh right, yes, that. Don't worry. I'll be back before you can
say where's he got to now? Not that fast! But pretty fast. See you
(The Doctor starts hunting through chests.)
DOCTOR: Right. You in here somewhere? I can't apologise enough. I
thought you were just a useless gadget. I thought you were just an
embarrassing present from a dull godmother with two heads and bad
breath. Twice. How wrong can a man be?
(He finds a gizmo with a rear view mirror fastened to the top and plugs
it into the console. It powers up and he stands in front of it and
sticks his tongue out. The mirror lights up with Match Found Print
Ready. It prints off a picture of William
Hartnell, then the mirror changes to Patrick Troughton.)
DOCTOR: Good. Okay, you're working. Now, see what you make of this. Who
(He holds up the sketch of the monster. Ding. Match found print ready.
DOCTOR: No, I know it's not that. There are thousands of them and you
can see them plain as day.
DOCTOR: No. Definitely not. This is the problem with the
impressionists. Not accurate enough. This would never happen with
Gainsborough or one of those proper painters. Sorry, Vincent. You will
just have to draw something better.
(The Doctor leaves the Tardis wearing the gizmo on
his chest, with the rear view mirror looking over his right shoulder.
An image of the beast appears in it.)
DOCTOR: That's better, old girl. Time delay, but you always get it
right in the end. Good. Let's find out who this is, then. Well, well,
there you are.
(The mirror says Krafayis. Planet of origin uncertain. Nomadic pack
animals. Strict dominance
hierarchy. Huge territories, several solar systems wide. Preferred
habitat: Planets with oxygen and nitrogen based atmospheres.)
Oh, you poor thing. You brutal, murderous, abandoned thing. I hope we
meet again soon so I can take you home.
(He looks in the mirror again and realises it is right behind him.)
DOCTOR: Maybe not that soon.
(He runs, it chases him, only visible in the
mirror. The Doctor tries scattering benches and other objects to slow
DOCTOR: Take that, and that.
(Eventually it leaves. The Doctor looks round the corner and sees -)
DOCTOR: Never do that! You scared the living daylights out of me.
AMY: Sorry, I got bored. As much as you admire his command of colour
and shape, it is hard to get fond of Vincent Van Gogh's snoring.
DOCTOR: Wake, wakey, rise and shine! Breakfast is
served in the courtyard. Whoa! What a morning. Come on. And Amy's got a
little surprise for you.
AMY: I thought I'd brighten things up to thank you
for saving me last night.
(Lots of sunflowers in lots of pots.)
AMY: I thought you might like, you know, possibly to perhaps paint them
or something? Might be a thought.
VINCENT: Yes, well, they're not my favourite flower.
AMY: You don't like sunflowers?
VINCENT: No, it's not that I don't like them. I find them complex.
Always somewhere between living and dying. Half-human as they turn to
the sun. A little disgusting. But, you know, they are a challenge.
DOCTOR: And one I'm pretty sure you'll rise to. But, moving on, there's
something I need to show you.
(The printout from the gizmo.)
VINCENT: That's him. And the eyes, without mercy.
DOCTOR: This is a creature called the Krafayis. They travel in space.
They travel as a pack, scavenging across the universe. And sometimes
one of them gets left behind. And because they are a brutal race, the
others never come back. So, dotted all around the universe are
individual, utterly merciless, utterly abandoned Krafayis. And what
they do is, well, kill, until they're killed. Which they usually
aren't. Because other creatures can't see them.
VINCENT: But I can.
DOCTOR: Yes. And that's why we are in a unique position today, my
friend, to end this reign of terror. So, feeling like painting the
VINCENT: What about the monster?
DOCTOR: Take my word for it. If you paint it, he will come.
VINCENT: Okay. I'll get my things.
DOCTOR: In your own time. And I promise you, we'll be out of your hair
by this time tomorrow.
(Vincent goes into the other room.)
DOCTOR: This is risky.
AMY: Riskier than normal?
DOCTOR: Well, think about it. This is the middle of Vincent Van Gogh's
greatest year of painting. If we're not careful, the net result of our
pleasant little trip will be the brutal murder of the greatest artist
who ever lived. Half the pictures on the wall of the Museé D'Orsay will
disappear. And it will be our fault.
(The Doctor knocks and enters. Vincent is lying
face down on his little bed, crying.)
DOCTOR: Vincent? Vincent! Vincent, can I help?
VINCENT: It's so clear you cannot help. And when you leave, and
everyone always leaves, I will be left once more with an empty heart
and no hope.
DOCTOR: My experience is that there is, you know, surprisingly, always
VINCENT: Then your experience is incomplete. I know how it will end.
And it will not end well.
DOCTOR: Come on. Come out. Come on, let's go outside.
VINCENT: Get out! You get out. What are you doing here? What are you
DOCTOR: Very well. I'll leave. I'll leave you.
AMY: What's happening?
DOCTOR: We're leaving. Everyone knows he's a delicate man. Just months
from now he'll, he'll take his own life.
AMY: Don't say that. Please.
(The Doctor looks at the picture Prisoners
DOCTOR: Come on. We have to do this on our own. Go to the church at the
right time and hope the monster still turns up.
VINCENT: I'm ready. Let's go.
AMY: I'm sorry you're so sad.
VINCENT: But I'm not. Sometimes these moods torture me for weeks, for
months. But I'm good now. If Amy Pond can soldier on, then so can
Vincent Van Gogh.
AMY: I'm not soldiering on. I'm fine.
VINCENT: Oh, Amy. I hear the song of your sadness. You've lost someone,
AMY: I'm not sad.
VINCENT: They why are you crying? It's all right. I understand.
AMY: I'm not sure I do.
DOCTOR: Okay. Okay. So, now, we must have a plan. When the creature
VINCENT: Then we shall fight him again.
DOCTOR: Well, yes, tick. But last night we were lucky. Amy could have
been killed. So this time, for a start, we have to make sure I can see
AMY: And how are we meant to do that, suddenly?
DOCTOR: The answer's in this box. I had an excellent, if smelly,
(They meet a funeral procession coming the other way.)
VINCENT: Oh no, it's that poor girl from the village.
(They stand aside respectfully as the coffin is carried past, with a
bouquet of sunflowers on it.)
AMY: You do have a plan, don't you?
DOCTOR: No. It's a thing. It's like a plan, but with more greatness.
DOCTOR: And you'll be sure to tell me if you see
any, you know, monsters.
VINCENT: Yes. While I may be mad, I'm not stupid.
DOCTOR: No. Quite. And, to be honest, I'm not sure about mad either. It
seems to me depression is a very complex
VINCENT: Shush. I'm working.
DOCTOR: Well, yes. Paint. Do painting! I remember watching Michelangelo
painting the Sistine Chapel. Wow! What a whinger. I kept saying to him,
look, if you're scared of heights, you shouldn't have taken the job
DOCTOR: And Picasso. What a ghastly old goat. I kept telling him,
concentrate, Pablo. It's one eye, either side of the face.
(Later, an owl hoots. The picture is almost finished.)
DOCTOR: Is this how time normally passes? Really slowly. In the right
order. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's an unpunctual alien
AMY: Are you okay? You seem a bit, if I didn't know you better, I'd say
DOCTOR: Yes, there's something not right and I can't quite put my
finger on it.
VINCENT: There. He's at the window.
VINCENT: There, on the right.
DOCTOR: As I thought. Come on. I'm going in.
VINCENT: Well I'm coming too.
DOCTOR: No! You're Vincent Van Gogh. No.
VINCENT: But you're not armed.
DOCTOR: I am.
VINCENT: What with?
DOCTOR: Overconfidence, this, and a small screwdriver. I'm absolutely
sorted. Just have to find the right crosactic setting and stun him with
it. Sonic never fails. Anyway, Amy, only one thought, one simple
instruction. Don't follow me under any circumstances.
AMY: I won't.
VINCENT: Will you follow him?
AMY: Of course.
VINCENT: I love you.
(The church porch is decorated with St Michael slaying the dragon. The
Doctor gets out the gizmo and puts it on, then goes inside. The
Krafayis can be heard but not seen. The Doctor scans with the sonic
AMY: Has he moved?
VINCENT: No. Just shifted to the next window. But, wait! He's turning
DOCTOR: Damn, he's moved.
(The Krafayis smashes the mirror on the gizmo.)
(The Doctor runs for the door.)
DOCTOR: Argh! I thought I told you. Never mind. We'll talk about it
later. Quick, in here.
(They get into a confessional.)
DOCTOR: Absolutely quiet. Can you breath a little quieter, please?
AMY: No. He's gone past.
(The beast smashes Amy's side of the confessional. She screams.)
DOCTOR: I think he heard us.
(It attacks the Doctor's side.)
DOCTOR: That is impressive hearing he's got. What's less impressive are
our chances of survival.
VINCENT: Hey! Are you looking for me, sonny? Come on, over here.
Because I'm right here waiting for you.
(Vincent fends off the Krafayis with a chair.)
VINCENT: Come on. Quickly. Get behind me.
(The Doctor tries his sonic screwdriver.)
DOCTOR: Doing anything?
VINCENT: Uh uh.
[Outside the Church]
DOCTOR: Where is he?
VINCENT: Where do you think he is, you idiot? Use your head.
VINCENT: Nothing. In fact, he seemed to rather enjoy it.
VINCENT: Duck! Left.
(The Doctor gets thrown against a wall.)
VINCENT: Right, sorry. Your right, my left.
DOCTOR: This is no good at all. Run like crazy and regroup.
AMY: Oh, come on, in here.
(The Krafayis jams its foot in the door to stop
them closing it, so Vincent stamps on it. The door closes.)
DOCTOR: Right. Okay. Here's the plan. Amy, Rory.
DOCTOR: Sorry. Er, Vincent.
AMY: What is the plan?
DOCTOR: I don't know, actually. My only definite plan is that in future
I'm definitely just using this screwdriver for screwing in screws.
VINCENT: Give me a second. I'll be back.
DOCTOR: I suppose we could try talking to him.
AMY: Talking to him?
DOCTOR: Well, yes. Might be interesting to know his side of the story.
Yes, though maybe he's not really in the mood for conversation right at
this precise moment.
(The beast hammers on the door.)
DOCTOR: Well, no harm trying. Listen. Listen! I know you can understand
me, even though I know you won't understand why you can understand me.
I also know that no one's talked to you for a pretty long stretch, but
please, listen. I also don't belong on this planet. I also am alone. If
you trust me, I'm sure we can come to some kind of, you know,
understanding. And then, and then, who knows?
(A window is broken in, and the invisible beast enters.)
VINCENT: Over here, mate!
(They hide behind a stone monument. Vincent has fetched his easel and
is brandishing it with its three pointed feet forwards.)
DOCTOR: What's it up to now?
VINCENT: It's moving round the room. Feeling its way around.
VINCENT: It's like it's trapped. It's moving round the edges of the
AMY: I can't see a thing.
DOCTOR: I am really stupid.
DOCTOR: Oh, get a grip! This is not a moment to re-evaluate your
DOCTOR: No, I am really stupid, and I'm growing old. Why does it attack
but never eat its victims? And why was it abandoned by its pack and
left here to die? And why is it feeling its way helplessly around the
walls of the room? It can't see. It's blind. Yes, and that explains why
it has such perfect hearing!
VINCENT: Which unfortunately also explains why it is now turning around
and heading straight for us.
DOCTOR: Vincent. Vincent, what's happening?
VINCENT: It's charging now. Get back. Get back!
(The Krafayis skewers itself on the easel and lifts Vincent into the
air. Then it falls to the floor, mortally wounded.)
VINCENT: He wasn't without mercy at all. He was without sight. I didn't
mean that to happen. I only meant to wound it, I never meant to
DOCTOR: He's trying to say something.
VINCENT: What is it?
DOCTOR: I'm having trouble making it out, but I think he's saying, I'm
afraid. I'm afraid. There, there. Shush, shush. It's okay, it's okay.
You'll be fine. Shush.
VINCENT: He was frightened, and he lashed out. Like humans who lash out
when they're frightened. Like the villagers who scream at me. Like the
children who throw stones at me.
DOCTOR: Sometimes winning, winning is no fun at all.
(The Doctor, Amy and Vincent van Gogh lie on the
ground and look up at the night sky.)
VINCENT: Hold my hand, Doctor. Try to see what I see. We are so lucky
we are still alive to see this beautiful world. Look at the sky. It's
not dark and black and without character. The black is in fact deep
blue. And over there, lighter blue. And blowing through the blueness
and the blackness, the wind swirling through the air and then, shining,
burning, bursting through, the stars. Can you see how they roar their
light? Everywhere we look, the complex magic of nature blazes before
DOCTOR: I've seen many things, my friend. But you're right. Nothing
quite as wonderful as the things you see.
VINCENT: I will miss you terribly.
VINCENT: I only wish I had something of real value
to give you.
(Self-portrait in a Straw Hat.)
DOCTOR: Oh, no, no, no. I could never accept such an extraordinary
VINCENT: Very well. You're not the first to decline the offer. Amy, the
blessed, the wonderful.
AMY: Be good to yourself, and be kind to yourself.
VINCENT: I'll try my best.
AMY: And maybe give the beard a little trim before you next kiss
VINCENT: I will, I will. And if you tire of this Doctor of yours,
return, and we will have children by the dozen.
VINCENT: Doctor, my friend. We have fought monsters together and we
have won. On my own, I fear I may not do as well.
DOCTOR: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
AMY: I was thinking I may need some food or something before we leave.
DOCTOR: Well, no, you're not thinking exactly what I'm thinking.
Vincent! I've got something I'd like to show you. Maybe just tidy
yourself up a bit first.
(The Tardis has been covered in advertising
DOCTOR: Now, you know we've had quite a few chats about the possibility
there might be more to life than normal people imagine?
DOCTOR: Well, brace yourself, Vinny.
(So we have the usual performance of inside, outside, walk around and
go in again.)
VINCENT [OC]: How come I'm the crazy one, and you two have stayed sane?
VINCENT: What do these things all do?
DOCTOR: Oh, a huge variety of things. This one here, for instance,
plays soothing music. While this one makes a huge amount of noise. And
this one makes everything go absolutely tonto.
(The Tardis jerks into flight.)
VINCENT: And this one?
DOCTOR: That's a friction contrafibulator!
VINCENT: And this?
DOCTOR: That's ketchup. And that one's mustard.
VINCENT: Mmm, nice. Come on, back to the cafe and you can tell me about
all the wonders of the universe.
DOCTOR: Good idea. Although, actually, there's a little something I'd
like to show you first.
[Outside the Museé]
VINCENT: Where are we?
(The time flight is burning the posters off the Tardis.)
DOCTOR: Paris, 2010 AD. And this is the mighty Museé D'Orsay, home to
many of the greatest paintings in history.
VINCENT: Oh, that's wonderful.
(Two lads walk past listening to a radio.)
DOCTOR: Ignore that. I've got something more important to show you.
(Background music is Chances by Athlete as they
enter the Museé.)
SINGER: Take all your chances while you can. You never know when
they'll pass you by. Like the sum the mathematician cannot solve. Like
me trying my hardest to explain.
(And into the van Gogh exhibition.)
SINGER: It's all about your cries and kisses, and those first steps
that I can't calculate.
DOCTOR: Doctor Black, we met a few days ago. I asked you about the
church at Auvers.
BLACK: Oh, yes. Glad to be of help. You were nice about my tie.
DOCTOR: Yes. And today is another cracker if I may say so. But I just
wondered, between you and me, in a hundred words, where do you think
Van Gogh rates in the history of art?
BLACK: Well, big question, but to me, Van Gogh is the finest painter of
them all. Certainly, the most popular great painter of all time. The
most beloved. His command of colour, the most magnificent. He
transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. Pain
is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the
ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world. No one had ever done it
before. Perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild
man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world's greatest
artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived.
(Vincent bursts into tears.)
DOCTOR: Vincent. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Is it too much?
VINCENT: No. They are tears of joy. Thank you, sir. Thank you.
(Vincent kisses Doctor Black on both cheeks and hugs him.)
BLACK: You're welcome. You're welcome.
VINCENT: Sorry about the beard.
(Black takes a few steps, stops, turn then mouths No.)
VINCENT: This changes everything. I'll step out
tomorrow with my easel on my back a different man. I still can't
believe that one of the haystacks was in the museum. How embarrassing.
DOCTOR: It's been a great adventure and a great honour.
VINCENT: You've turned out to be the first doctor ever actually to make
a difference to my life.
DOCTOR: I'm delighted. I won't ever forget you.
VINCENT: And you are sure marriage is out of the question?
AMY: This time. I'm not really the marrying kind. Come on. Let's go
back to the gallery right now.
[Outside the Museé]
AMY: Time can be re-written. I know it can. Come
on! Oh, the long life of Vincent Van Gogh. There'll be hundreds of new
DOCTOR: I'm not sure there will.
AMY: Come on!
BLACK [OC]: We have here the last work of Vincent Van Gogh, who
committed suicide at only thirty seven. He is now acknowledged to be
one of the foremost artists of all time. If you follow me now.
AMY: So you were right. No new paintings. We didn't make a difference
DOCTOR: I wouldn't say that. The way I see it, every life is a pile of
good things and bad things. Hey. 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. And, if you look carefully, maybe we did
indeed make a couple of little changes.
AMY: No Krafayis.
DOCTOR: No Krafayis.
(Amy goes over to the Still Life with Twelve Sunflowers. It has For
Amy, Vincent written on the vase.)
AMY: If we had got married, our kids would have had very, very red
DOCTOR: The ultimate ginger.
AMY: The ultimate ginge. Brighter than sunflowers.