TARDIS Regenerated

“The Husbands of River Song” is a high-speed, campy romp that likely isn’t intended to make complete sense. River got her sonic and we got to see a happy ever after.

Who knew that River Song was a polygamist? Apparently the Doctor did not. He appears genuinely surprised that River, who doesn’t recognize him, is bringing him to her husband – King Hydroflax. But first things first – wasn’t that red, hooded cape gorgeous? I could definitely see myself wearing that over something delicious and sexy when stepping out into a snowy night to meet a Doctorish man. But I digress.

Flying Saucers and Spaceships

River doesn’t recognize the Doctor. I have an issue with that. I don’t have an issue with her not recognizing him at the inception of the show, but seriously, by the time they’re discussing decapitating the king to scoop the diamond from his brain, this writer feels she should have recognized him. Yes, of course regeneration has changed his physicality, but River didn’t just grow to love his physicality did she? Then again, considering her liaison with Ramone, maybe she is mostly drawn to physicality. During regeneration the Doctor receives an entirely new body, inside and out. But given the fact that the he retains memories and the emotions attached to those memories, it would seem that the hearts of the Doctor don’t change. Because of this,  there would, in all probability, be something familiar about the Doctor despite his new face, something that might have had River puzzled, wondering what it was about the man that seemed so familiar.

But, nope. Nada. He reminds her of her second wife.

River maintains that she has married the king for the Halassi Androvar diamond that is lodged within his head and threatens his life. As an archeologist, she has pledged to get the diamond and return it to the Halassi. She begins taking things from a bag, emptying it out to place the head in, and we cannot help but notice that the first item she removes from the bag is a red fez. The Doctor appears to be shocked at River’s behavior, her blatant discussion about murdering the king. Her defense is that the king is known as the “butcher of the Bone Meadows, who ends his battles by eating his enemies, dead or alive.” King Hydroflax has heard River’s discussion with the Doctor about removing his head and offers to do that for her. His Cyborg body handily twists his head from the body frame and places it in front of River. A disjointed, somewhat amusing (though not intentionally, but it is a talking head) conversation ensues. As the king plans to kill River, the Doctor threatens the head.

“The Husbands of River Song” is a high-speed, campy romp that likely isn’t intended to make complete sense. It is a special that begins with a very cranky Doctor who plans to criticize any Christmas carolers who knock on the TARDIS door. (The TARDIS it appears has landed on a street that looks virtually identical to the street in “Face the Raven,” though it is decked for the holidays. What a strange and happy television coincidence!). Later, he catches a laughing stitch after having been dropped to a snowy ground. Yes, you heard me, the 12^th Doctor caught a stitch of laughter, light-hearted, free laughter. And, nope, River still doesn’t recognize him.

Enter Ramone, another husband/paramour of River’s. Though Ramone doesn’t realize he’s married to her, because she wiped his memory clear of the nuptials simply because he was being annoying. She has no trouble, however, engaging in physical shenanigans with him. She is using Ramone to help her find “damsel.” River uses the code word “damsel” for the Doctor because, Ramone explains, the Doctor (a damsel in distress) apparently requires a lot of rescuing. Prior to this mention, River had already targeted the Doctor’s gender when discussing sawing off the king’s head — “What’s that face? Are you thinking? Stop it. You’re a man, it looks weird.” Men don’t think?

Stealing Time-travel Boxes

Stealing and TARDIS – it seems that these two words tend to go together within the Whoniverse. If the Doctor isn’t stealing the first one from Gallifrey or Clara and Me aren’t stealing a second one that the Doctor stole from Gallifrey, River Song is stealing (ok, borrowing) a TARDIS from the Doctor, only he has never known that. Maybe we need a flow chart for this too. There is a lot about River Song that the Doctor, while unrecognized, is finding out about during this convoluted journey. Perhaps the best bit of acting during “The Husbands of River Song” occurs when the Doctor enters the TARDIS and pretends that he has never previously seen the inside. I am particularly fond of the way he ends the snippet with, “Sorry. I’ve always wanted to see that done properly.” Snort.

How is it that River doesn’t notice that the interior of the TARDIS has been redesigned? Wouldn’t there have been some response to that? As River attempts to take off, a flurried confusion of discussion and switch-flipping, button-pressing occurs until they realize that the TARDIS is locked in place due to the fact that the king’s head in on the inside, but his body is on the outside. Conveniently, there are a lot of convenient moments during this special – how nice that Moffat can make his pen move in that way. The Cyborg body arrives with Ramone’s head. The Doctor shuts the door behind the Cyborg after he enters and the TARDIS begins to take off. The Doctor has no idea where they are going as River is the one who set the coordinates. She has him toss her the head, the TARDIS lands, and she grabs the Doctor by the hand as they run out the door. Moments later, the Doctor finds himself in a spaceship traversing the fourth galaxy. River plans on selling the diamond on this ship – complete with head.

At Warped Speed

Oh, by the way, the restaurant will serve cooked, human (or alien) flesh if you’re interested. They did not indicate if fava beans were on the menu. River is double-crossed, awkwardness is served when they realize that the buyers of the diamond are disciples Hydroflax, a price is placed on the Doctor’s head, the king’s head is obliterated to ash, and River blasts the Doctor’s ability and/or necessity to love while the Doctor winces. River’s speech about the Doctor and love contains my least favorite lines. She likens his loving her back to being small and ordinary as if to be a great and powerful man reduces the need to love. As if love is something that belongs to the underlings of a society. As if her loving the Doctor makes River weak. And, frankly, that ideology permeates too much of society already. However, during her ranting about the Doctor’s emotional ineptitude, she turns, looks into his eyes, and finally recognizes him. Capaldi does an amazing job with this scene. I felt the emotion in his eyes. Once he realizes that River has recognized him, he quietly utters River’s “Hello Sweetie.”

Shortly thereafter they are rescued by a meteor strike, a strike that River knew would arrive and had worked into her escape plan. After they fall through to the lower floor, the Doctor takes the opportunity to ask River how she likes his new body. In what appears to be typical River fashion (but do we really know River?) she responds with, “I’ll let you know, I’ve only seen the face.”

The two of them head for the bridge to attempt to stabilize the ship and decide there’s no saving it. The Doctor attempts to do the “gallant” thing and send River into the TARDIS, but River is having none of that. In the end, they both escape to the TARDIS and eventually crash on Darillium near the Singing Towers. River is unconscious when they land and the doctor uses the time she’s out to arrange dinner. After planting the seed of a restaurant in the mind of a young rescue worker at the crash site, he hands him the diamond to fund the building. Then he brings himself and River four years into the future, the first open reservation for a table that overlooks the Singing Towers. 

The Singing Towers

The piece de resistance of this Christmas special is the last 10 minutes. Before dinner at the Singing Tower restaurant, the Doctor hands River a gift – her sonic screwdriver. We heard River tell this story during “Silence in the Library.” The question is will this be their last night together as has been foretold? As a lover of metaphor, I appreciated the conversation between the two as River spoke her pain:

DOCTOR: Mmm. What do you think of the towers?

RIVER: I love them.

DOCTOR: Then why are you ignoring them?

RIVER: They’re ignoring me. But then you can’t expect a monolith to love you back.

The Doctor tears up as he talks about monoliths and songs that are there when you least expect them and when you need them most. A night on Darillium is 24 years. I’m going to go ahead and assume that River and the Doctor will make plenty of haunting, beautiful music together over those 24 years.

End Notes

The core of this story spoke to me. What I could have done without is what I perceived to be saccharine add-ons. For example, the final tag line about living happily. The special would have ended well after River’s “I hate you” and the Doctor’s “No, you don’t.” Adding the script at the end felt like a Disneyesque move. Initially the underlying “love story” felt like a Harlequin romance novel – trite. As a general rule I am all about the love, but in this instance portions of it felt forced and/or too syrupy. Still, both Capaldi and Kingston played the scenes superbly and the chemistry between the two was palpable.

The storyline moved along at the warp speed of the spaceship traveling across the galaxies. While it was not difficult to follow or to make necessary links, I did feel as if we just entered one scene and were on to the next while I was looking back over my shoulder saying, “Wait, I still need to process that,” or “But, I want to see more.”

Many reviews I’ve read indicate that the tone of the story was perfect for a Christmas special. Many loved the feel good, happy overtones. Of the people I’ve spoken with, River’s reappearance was appreciated and the apparent positive ending was also appreciated. I question what happens after the one 24-year night on Darillium, but many feel that the Doctor (and River) will figure out a way to extend their time together beyond those years. Others say that I’m over-thinking things. I ask – how can you ever overthink the timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly nature of Doctor Who?

 

 

“Heaven Sent” is an entertaining, experimental, and well constructed one-man show. Sometimes abstract metaphor tells a better story than literal expression.

Picking right up from “Face The Raven,” the Doctor continues his typically Moffat macho threats. This Kirk-like bragging, which started at the end of Matt Smith’s first episode “The Eleventh Hour,” is directly opposed to the show’s history. The Doctor brags about his intellect, not his CV. In addition to his cleverness, what makes the show unique is his reliance on luck, sloppy opposition and the bravery of his companions. In “Heaven Sent,” however, Steven Moffat adds nuance to his flawed interpretation. The Doctor’s opening rant is reminiscent of Will Munny scaring his unseen enemies at the end of Unforgiven. In both instances, the threats expose our protagonist’s weakness.

Compared to past incarnations, Twelve is way too emotionally dependent on Clara Oswald. Using her voice as beyond-the-grave counsel, however, is a stroke of genius. Moffat used the same device with the deceased Danny Pink talking to Clara in “Last Christmas.” In both instances, the “Fight Club Light” imaginary friend advances the plot while revealing something about the protagonist’s state of mind. These internal conversations might come from a need to stay connected to certain people long after they’re gone. We manipulate their words into what we think we need to hear at the time. At times of crisis or exhaustion, these old souls still get to me. I wish I could tell them when they were right, or wrong. We need to know they still care.

It’s also a terrific alternative to Peter Capaldi talking to us/himself for an hour. When Elisabeth Sladen (Sarah Jane Smith) left, Tom Baker said the Doctor didn’t need a companion. Not having a story like “Heaven Sent,” producer Philip Hinchcliffe placated him with The Deadly Assassin. After watching Tom talk to the camera, he gave the show Leela in the very next serial.

The Prisoner

The Doctor’s struggle is strikingly similar to Number Six’s escape attempts from the Village in The Prisoner (and Clint Eastwood in Escape from Alcatraz.) Ingenuity and past escapes are meaningless against this visually open prison. The trap is an elaborate, long-term interrogation from an unseen enemy. Lacking the desired information, the warden uses Franz Kafka torture techniques to get the confession. It’s Time Lord waterboarding.

Two-Fisted Time Lord

On first viewing, the visual of a bare hand punching through 20 feet of something “400 times harder than diamond” disabled my suspension of disbelief. Why didn’t the Doctor’s hand break? The second viewing changed my mind; his escape is a hybrid of physicality and psychology. He needed both to get out. Like water on stone, the Doctor became erosion.

Rather than explaining how this might be physically possible, I prefer to think the Azbantium barrier was a multi-dimensional image, similar to the program back doors in The Matrix Reloaded. That would explain how technology designed to trap an average Time Lord wouldn’t work on the most iron-willed Gallifreyan since Rassilon. It would also explain why his punching hand was bloody in prison, but fully healed on Gallifrey.

“How many seconds in eternity?” just adds noise to what’s already established with acting, plot and direction. Moffat wants the picture and a thousand words.

Most of “Heaven Sent” is the best one-set character exploration of the Doctor since William Hartnell-era’s “The Edge of Destruction.” Seeing him get roughed up is an added bonus for those who think the modern-era victories are a bit too neat and wholesome. American director Rachel Talalay (last season’s “Dark Water“/”Death in Heaven“) visualizes this bruised and bloody story with solid pacing, cinematography and wit.

Once that confession dial hit the dirt, however, this innovative character study turned into normal Doctor Who story: a cute kid in the desert for no reason, a domed city matte painting, and a vague Doctor threat. This, and Moffat bragging about The Doctor’s return to Gallifrey “getting a bit Clint Eastwood,” doesn’t bode well for next week’s season finale “Hell Bent.”

TARDIS Bits

I had my own confession dial to escape from this month; it’s called “work.” Shut up.

• How did Mayor Me get the confession dial to Gallifrey? Isn’t it still in that pocket universe from “Day of the Doctor?”
• Finding a second set of clothes by the fire is very much like 2001: A Space Odyssey.
• In last year’s “The Caretaker,” Clara followed her own “I can’t keep doing this” moment with “Yes, I can, I can do it, of course I can do it. I’ve got it all under control.”
• The garden looks like the TARDIS Cloister room in Logopolis,” the last serial with Tom Baker as the Doctor. Entropy and decay were that season’s major themes.
• The Veil’s flies reminded me of John Waters’ Serial Mom.
• Why didn’t he use the shovel against the diamond wall? And why did he only use one fist?
• “Bird” meant something completely different to me; Clint Eastwood and I would have tried to find Charlie Parker.
• The confession dial is wickedly powerful. Only a Time Lord device could interrogate with your own memories.
• How could the Time Lords, designers of confession dial, not realize he’d “take forever to die?”

The raven is a Celtic omen of death. This was used to good effect throughout the hidden-alley sojourn. The title “Face the Raven” was, in and of itself, a spoiler. No real surprise that a Shade came to visit.

Popular European folklore tells us that the raven carries souls to the Otherworld. A raven sighting can send shivers down the spine. In Edgar Allen Poe’s classic work, “The Raven,” the bird represents death and finality. It has been said that the work, as a whole, may represent man’s inability to escape fate. The raven, or Quantum Shade, in this episode embodies the dark imagery that has often been attributed to the bird in European culture. The title was a dead give-away for this writer, indicating that there would be death and ill will.

Rigsy (played by Jovian Wade) from Series 8’s “Flatline” seeded a dark mystery when he wakes to find a number tattoo on the back of his neck. The puzzling tattoo is not static. The number changes minute by minute, counting down. We can make the easy assumption that reaching zero will represent death. After the credits, this assumption is confirmed by the Doctor once he, Clara, and Rigsy convene in the TARDIS, where the Doctor scans Rigsy head to toe. Rigsy is told that he has had significant contact with alien life form and that he has been retconned, his memory wiped clean of the encounter. When the Doctor realizes that Rigsy is dying, he flips through the cards Clara prepared for him (seen earlier this series during “Under the Lake“) in an attempt to find the appropriate words. There are none, of course. And the journey to save Rigsy’s life begins.

In the Mix

Not knowing where to actually start, the Doctor takes Clara and Rigsy to London to find a trap street, used by cartographers to catch potential copyright violators. The Doctor felt certain aliens may be living there. Looking for this street provides the impetus for Clara to dangle wildly from the TARDIS door while the Doctor is flying high above the city. She’s wearing the sonic glasses to help find a hidden street so that the Doctor can create a map. In my estimation, this scene was over the top, but an apparent way to foreshadow Clara’s impulsive and poor choices.

On the streets of London, the trio begins their search for what will be Doctor Who‘s version of Diagon Alley. After a trip back to the TARDIS, Clara picks up Rigsy’s phone, which had been plugged in to attempt to retrieve data. The phone had a broken screen and wasn’t working, but Rigsy could not remember how the phone had gotten damaged. Once placed in his hand again, with data restored, the memory flooded back of a woman lying on the cobblestones, bleeding from the head. This becomes the key that allows Rigsy to be able to see the opening to the street in a gap between two buildings.

I am intrigued by this trap street. Hidden alleys and passageways have always been a draw for me. And I eagerly anticipated what they would find once they step into the gap. Having been able to avoid spoilers, I was surprised to find Lady Me at the core of this mystery. While Maisie Williams’ character as Ashildr provided the actress a good entrance to the Who world, each successive appearance has been progressively more disappointing. I don’t blame this on Maisie, but on the writing for her characters. “Face the Raven” was written by Sara Dollard, an Australian screenwriter who lives/works in the U.K. The J.K Rowlingesque aspects of Dollard’s writing for “Face the Raven,” are intriguing, but from this writer’s perspective, there may not have been enough time taken to review the previous episodes as research for character development.

In addition to the arrival of Lady Me, who is mayor of the community on the trap street, we encounter others who accuse Rigsy of murdering the woman we saw lying on the cobblestones. The street is a place of refuge for aliens in need. We, the viewers, see all the people there in human form, as does the trio apparently. Lady Me/Mayor Me explains that each person sees through their own perception due to the Lurkworms. Their light is a telepathic field and when compromised the aliens are visible as they are – e.g. Ood and Cybermen existing together. Perhaps, from this perspective, there is a camaraderie that is not achievable in the outside world. Yet, there is one staunch rule that stands out as, perhaps, barbaric – the use of the Quantum Shade for “peace-keeping.” The death sentence meted out can be lifted by Mayor Me, but only if the residents of the street agree that the individual should be pardoned. All the trio needs to accomplish is to find the real killer and then convince the street to pardon Rigsy.

Mayor Me leads the trio inside where they find the presumably dead woman (Anah) in a laser container. Mayor Me tells them that she is being held until a proper burial can occur. From here the Doctor and party go back out in the street where they witness the death of a man via Quantum Shade. We have seen the raven in a cage, waiting for its next release, when it will retrieve a soul. The presence of the bird is a constant reminder on the street to do well, to refrain from what is deemed criminal. Clara is told that the mark of death, or chronolock, can be given to another, one time, if the other is willing to accept the sentence, and her impulsive wheels begin turning. Though she has missed a very important point – you can’t cheat the chronolock. Of course Clara does attempt to cheat it. She believes that Lady Me will remove the sentence from her since she told the Doctor she would keep Clara safe. Clara convinces Rigsy to allow her to have the chronolock and the tattoo transfers to the back of Clara’s neck, countdown continuing.

While she’s talking to Rigsy, Clara throws out another reference to Jane Austin, which feels gratuitous. It’s fleeting. And I wonder if it truly accomplishes a purpose other than to cause gossip? Last Series, the genuine relationship between Madam Vastra and Jenny made wonderful sense. The bits of implications in Series 9 from Clara seem a lark rather than a nod toward accepted bi-sexuality.

The Doctor, Clara, and Rigsy go to the home of Anah to talk to the young man who has been surreptitiously watching them. Only he turns out to be a girl in disguise, for her people have the gift of seeing behind. The woman and young girl are Janus, with two faces – one for seeing present/future and one for seeing the past. The discussion leads them to the discovery that it’s not Rigsy that is wanted, but the Doctor. No. Really? You were surprised right? Sure. Anyway, she used Rigsy to get the Doctor there, because the Doctor “can never resist a mystery.”

Moments of Truth

At this point, with approximately 15 minutes left, the meat of the show begins. All else has been a lead in to these moments and here, in my opinion, is where the episode falters to greatest extent. The Doctor runs back to Anah; the TARDIS key is used to unlock the cage and free the woman who is mother to the young girl. Anah is alive. Mayor Me had set it up to create the illusion of her death, all to lure the Doctor there because of a deal that she made with the Shade. In addition to a soul, the deal includes teleporting the Doctor to an unspecified place. Mayor Me asks for his confessional dial, though she clearly does not know why it is wanted. He hands it over to her.

Mayor Me, based on the terms of the contract she entered into, can now remove the cronolock from Rigsy’s neck but it is revealed to all that Clara has it. How, I wonder, did the Doctor not notice this earlier. Rigsy has short hair; the Doctor been checking the countdown frequently; but he didn’t notice that the back of Rigsy’s neck was now clear of the tattoo?

Clara’s impulsivity has been her undoing. Mayor Me cannot change the terms of the contract, apparently (which makes little sense to me) and the chronolock must stay – Clara cannot cheat the death sentence. This entire premise is full of holes from where I stand, but it is what it is and the rest of the show continues from there with the Doctor and Clara’s final farewells. Doctor Who is known for its feels, but the exchange between the Doctor and Clara is far more sterile than previous separations between Doctor and companion. Based on the development of the 12th Doctor’s character, we could make the case that he is more detached from his emotions in this regeneration, but this is a man who has grown to hug others, when at first he was averse. There has been emotional character growth, which is not evident in the parting of the Doctor and Clara. In fact, the entire death scene has a feeling of sterility. Clara walks calmly (bravely according to her whispers) into the street to await the Quantum Shade. This does not mean that I didn’t tear up a little, but I was certainly not driven to the tears that appeared during Doomsday.

And so she falls onto the cobblestones of a trap street in London. Good-bye Impossible Girl. Good-bye Clara and Oswin.

End Notes

“Face the Raven,” is the first part of a two-parter, which always means that some aspects that appear at loose ends may be cleared up in “Heaven Sent.” Only time will tell, which we know is wibbly-wobbly, so it’s a crap shoot.

I, personally, enjoyed the mysterious trap street, the allusions to mythology, Poe, and all things dark and lovely. There are those who did not appreciate this particular bent, which is more nebulous than the science of Doctor Who. And, yet, one could argue that there was enough science in the way Anah was kept in the laser container and in the way Mayor Me set up the use of the TARDIS key and the teleport bracelet.

In the end, I suppose my biggest complaint is that I wanted more – more than could be delivered in the allotted time frame. I would have liked more insight into the history of the street, into Mayor Me’s character, into the reason the aliens were present, and definitely more between the Doctor and Clara. Whatever you may feel about Clara Oswald, this woman has been in the Doctor’s time stream; she is more closely associated with the Doctor’s regenerations than any other companion has been. And this is the way it ends between the two of them? With a whimper and not a bang?

We are near the end of Series 9 now; bring on “Heaven Sent.” Where does the Doctor go from here?

Stunned silence as the final scene blinks to black should not be a surprise. Nods to Shakespeare and Charles Dickens are not enough to save “Sleep No More” from its obscurity when even the Doctor says “None of this makes sense.”

If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all, right? If I followed that adage, the rest of this review would be mostly white space. We were warned up front in the opening frames. “You must not watch this,” Rassmussen told us. Yet we did. And he’s right, we can never unsee it. Mark Gatiss‘ “Sleep No More” disappoints in a way that we have not yet been disappointed during Series 9. His last Who offering as writer was “Robot of Sherwood,” which was also not a favorite of this writer, though far more palatable than “Sleep No More.”

“Sleep No More” is another base under siege story, which we saw earlier this year in the two-parter “Under the Lake/Before the Flood.” From that viewpoint alone, I started off with a ho-hum I just saw this feeling. However, I gave the ep the benefit of the doubt and earnestly searched for the gold or at least a silver lining. The story is set in the 38^th century and includes grunts, who are beings grown and cultivated to be of low-intelligence and to respond to physical attack as “soldiers.” There are those who truly liked the episode and did, indeed, find it scary. I tried to give Gatiss credit for the unique aspect of creating a monster from sleep matter that gathers in the eye, but alas, as the episode progressed any attempt waned.

In the Mix

Rassmussen is the inventor of Morpheus. He opens the episode speaking on video about the horrors that have occurred on the ship. Morpheus, in this instance, is a machine that condenses a night’s sleep into short five-minute bursts. The theory is that it will be much easier to burn the candle at both ends if an individual need not waste hours upon hours in shut-eye. (Not to mention that corporations can take further advantage of employee work hours if they require far less sleep.) While needing less sleep may be an interesting idea to flirt with, the Doctor points out that our dance with sleep each night is necessary to sound health. The Doctor and Clara, in the company of a team sent to investigate why the ship went silent and as rescue mission for the crew, find a row of Morpheus pods. Clara dazzles us (yes, you may read that as sarcastic) with her mythological knowledge: “Morpheus? Named after the god of dreams?” This was followed by a self-aggrandizing (meant to be funny) gestural acknowledgement that she was not “just another pretty face.” In sci-fi, I’ll take my Morpheus the “Matrix” way, thank you.

For a nano-second though, how many of us wished that we could crawl into a pod, sleep minutes, and feel as energized as if we had slept 8 hours. In all honestly, there are many days that would come in handy. I would, eventually, miss my nighttime slumber, because most nights crawling into the boat of my bed and sailing into “Morpheus’ arms” is bliss.

Shortening the scene without full overview, they find that one of the pods is occupied by Rassmussen, who appears to be frightened by the monsters on board the ship. He explains his invention at the Doctor’s request, to be lectured by the Doctor, whose chastisement is endorsed by Chopra and Clara. Character development for the rescue team on board is minimal to non-existent in “Sleep No More,” with Chopra being the one individual where we see any type of real development at all. It was the Doctor who discerned that the monsters are comprised of sleep matter and that the more traditional sleep missed, the more monsters created.

Lapsing into Confusion

From here the rest is downhill, fuzzy, and as confusing as the dark, sketchy, low-lit scenes.

There were lots of walks down dark corridors, but these were no more frightening to me than a five-and-dime haunted house, despite the attempt at creating fear through lighting and color. The Doctor also takes note that they are being filmed, but there are no cameras to be seen anywhere. He, therefore, deduces that the Sandmen (sleep monsters) are doing the filmed observation. I’m trying to stretch here, but there was not enough for me to conceive of the way in which they actually do the filming, even as the Doctor says that someone (Rassmussen) is hijacking the Sandmen’s visual receptors. Each person who has been in the Morpheus pod becomes part of the filming process. Clara first uses the term Sandman and is chastised by the Doctor because he “gets to name them.” The interchange felt superfluous and out of place, even if the Doctor decided to keep the name Sandman. I presume this was an attempt at a little Doctor/Clara humor. Since the Sandmen are blind (As stated, their visual receptors were hi-jacked.) those still alive are able to sneak past them for escape by doing so silently, stealthily. The Doctor later uses sound to trick a Sandman by creating a distraction with a music video.

All the while, the loosely sketched characters are chasing through the darkened corridors, Rassmussen is narrating and recording the incidents on board the ship with the idea of broadcasting globally to cause panic and the infection of people’s minds. Eventually we find out that Rassmussen has been the mastermind behind the creation of the Sandmen, the take-over of the ship, the demise of crew and rescue crew, and the filming. Though character after character meets with annihilation, there is little in the way for emotional connection because we simply do not know them well enough to become emotionally invested. Rassmussen is killed by Nagata. We are now down to three characters: the Doctor; Clara; and Nagata, the frightened leader of the original rescue crew. On to Triton (aboard the TARDIS) to destroy all the Morpheus pods is the war call. The Doctor self-destructs the gravitational shields; Neptune’s gravity pulls the Sandmen apart; the Doctor screams “None of this makes sense.”

Well, now that’s a fine and true place to end. None of this makes sense.

But, alas, we are treated (read sarcasm) to a last scene with Rassmussen who is, it appears, a Sandman in disguise. As he begins to disintegrate, he makes a plea for viewers to show the video to their family, to everyone, so that all can be together, dust to dust. I rarely have a gag moment during a film, but that was one. And on the heels of that moment was Rassmussen/Sandman reaching a finger toward the camera, as if toward the audience, toward each viewer: “Excuse me, you’ve got something, there, just in the corner of your eye.” Seriously? Did that scare anyone?

End Notes

In my opinion the episode does not warrant a more in-depth analysis at this time. However, there were items that I feel did warrant a mention in these end notes.

Given the intended nature of the episode, opening without theme song and ending with an abrupt disconnection and point of light was effective.

The grunts, we were told, are grown (and called by number, not name). The Doctor expands on this, indicating that they are bred in hatcheries and endowed with low intelligence and brute force. Clara responds with “That’s disgusting.” She is right. While we do not yet grow grunts in hatcheries, perhaps we can look at what we do create when we send people off to war, people who are “programmed” to react in violent ways. “Well, that’s how they roll in the 38^th century,” says the Doctor. Let’s hope we can change that point in time.

There is a nice nod to Shakespeare‘s “Macbeth:” “To die, to die. Glamis hath murdered sleep, therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more.” The Doctor goes on to shout out to the ancients, to poets: “Shakespeare. He really knew his stuff. They all did. The ancients. The poets. All those sad songs. All those lullabies.” Poets are masters of observation. They have an ability to reflect life onto life. Today poets are no longer as respected as they were then, but their ability for intuition, for observation, for activism is no less. There was also a nod toward the musical “Oliver!” (based on the novel “Oliver Twist” by Charles Dickens) when the Doctor quipped “Part of the furniture” following Nagata’s “. . .you’re to consider yourself.” Dickens has been showcased in Who before. In Gatiss’ first story for Who, “The Unquiet Dead,” Charles Dickens is a prominent character.

Early in the episode the Doctor asks Clara to hold his hand. She replies that she’s ok and the Doctor’s response is “I’m not.” Despite the Doctor’s daily brushes with potential destruction, perhaps he has not been completely desensitized to fear.

What’s up with “May the Gods look favorably upon you?” There is no apparent rhyme or reason other than the sleep machine is named after a Greek god.

If you ended up singing “Mr. Sandman” by The Chordettes the rest of the evening or day following your viewing, I’m sorry; I am so sorry. May you all get your “blessed” sleep and forget.

Every writer is going to win some and lose some.  I’m chalking this up to one of the inevitable losses for Gatiss.