That part about longer scenes is what gets me excited.

Moffat has his detractors, but — just so we're clear — I'm a Moffat fan. I think he's written some of the best episodes in Nu Who's run, and there's a sizable consensus to back me up on this. You have the one-two punches of "The Empty Child" and "The Doctor Dances" from season one, and "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead" from season four. You also have the heartbreaking "The Girl in the Fireplace" from season two, and, from season three, the essential "Blink." These aren't just incredible Doctor Who episodes, or incredible examples of the television medium as an art form; they're incredible, period.

I would also argue strongly for the sixth season as one of the show's best, though now I'm swimming into less friendly waters. Season five is often cited as the pinnacle of Moffat's time as showrunner—and you won't catch me hating on it. Still, the labyrinthine mysteries of the sixth season, and the sense of impending doom in the wrap-around arc, give it an overarching weight, momentum, and sense of melancholy the fifth season didn't always have.

But here's where we have to get into Moffat's weaknesses, which even a staunch fan like myself has to be honest about.

In another article from The Guardian, Dan Martin notes that, "Steven Moffat's tenure as showrunner so far has been less emotional…" He's also been accused of drawing from a shallow well of worn-out tropes—which is true. Put "The Girl in the Fireplace" side by side with "The Eleventh Hour," Matt Smith's first full episode as the Doctor, and can see the same creative mind at work: The Doctor befriends a young girl and then is separated from her for what is, to him, only a few moments but for her is years. When they meet again, she's an adult who's spent most of her life daydreaming about the funny, mysterious man she met long ago.