"When the TARDIS blew up, it caused a total event collapse. A time explosion. It blasted every atom in every moment of the universe... Except inside the Pandorica." Okay, I was going to say something, but I have completely lost track of what they are talking about. "Inside it, perfectly preserved: A few billion atoms of the universe as it was. In theory, you could extrapolate the whole universe from a single one of them, like cloning a body from a single cell... The box contains a memory of the universe, and the light transmits the memory."
So there's that? But anyhow, if it couldn't even get one shitty Dalek right, how is it supposed to relight the fire and reboot the universe? By supplying it with infinite power, A, and B by transmitting its light to "every particle of space and time simultaneously." And now you are speaking my language, because there are a million ways to deal with the TARDIS and this one -- where it exists everywhere and nowhere and connects us to the infinite -- is the only way I know to deal with the TARDIS. And there is something unnerving and violent about doing that to her, but also I think very respectful. So even as the Dalek is fucking with them for the fourth time and the Doctor's down and they're all running around and getting separated, I couldn't stop thinking about that.
Not even when the Doctor vortex-manipulates his dying self back to that scene and River tells the others to leave her with his body and the approaching Dalek, and does some freaky shit to it, viz making the point that as an associate of the Doctor "mercy" should be her calling card but it's not if you really know her, then making it beg for mercy approximately fifty times, and then shooting it right through the plunger with a cold sort of horrible light in her eyes, standing over her husband's young and beautiful corpse.
I mean, keep her dangerous and willing to do things the Doctor's not going to do, and for sure make the point that not only is she still feeling weird about ending the universe and failing the Doctor but also feeling weird about the fact that this guy is about to kill the Doctor, whom she loves: All of this is true and very necessary and earns the point. But I can't stop thinking about Ambrose and how soundly she was demonized, and how not even on a good day is it okay to make something beg for mercy when you have no intention of showing it any. Not even on the back of the reality fax is that okay. So to then apply this Ambrose nastiness, this women-have-no-ethics thing that is a classic and eternal facet of male psychological development, to the original wild card mother-wife-daughter-lover-bride-femme fatale character, who just fucked up and killed the entire universe because she shouldn't be driving his car in the first place... It's going a very long way to say a very short thing, I think.