Tag: immortality

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Essay

The Woman Who Lived: Nightmare to Knightmare

Maisie Williams’ performance in “The Woman Who Lived” is testimony to her acting ability. In one week’s time, she was able to take Ashildr through centuries of shifts and changes, and we could feel those in the development of her personality—from the pain and anguish, to her need to shut down emotion, to the disavowal of her own name. I have read criticism that indicated Ashildr’s propensity for storytelling and her headstrong conviction was lost this week. I would disagree. We see her storytelling written out in her journals. She needs the story to remind her of her life. We see her headstrong conviction in nearly every action. Granted it has shifted from the honorable Ashildr of her village, but she remains steadfastly headstrong in her pursuits. And what definitely remains is the ambiguity. Ashildr never was nor will she ever be boxed into a stereotypical gender role. If there was ever a case for Carl Jung‘s anima/animus it is Ashildr. Jung said: “The anima is a personification of all feminine tendencies in a man’s psyche …;” thus, the animus is the personification of all masculine tendencies in a woman.” We begin assuming gender identity and role in childhood, and many of us exhibit our assigned gender in myriad ways throughout our lifetime. But, according to Jung, the suppressed gender is always there, beneath the surface, wanting its time. Ashildr, now Lady Me, expresses both feminine and masculine characteristics somewhat fluidly. The opening sequence places her in a masculine role as highway robber, complete with male voice (how did she perfect that?). Yet it is clear, once the mask and the hat come off, that her feminine characteristics are also still in place. Gender and/or androgyny could be discussed at length based on “The Girl Who Died/The Woman Who Lived.” There will be further allusion to the discussion in this review, but it deserves perhaps, a paper of its own. I find it interesting that her male persona comes forth when she is wearing a mask.

Back to the opening sequence, the Doctor bumbles onto the robbery in progress and pays little mind to the gun that Ashildr, called the Knightmare by the townspeople, wields. There is plenty of humor in the sequence including the Doctor asking to share the robbery, “Isn’t that what robbery is all about?” In the meantime the stage coach takes advantage of the quibbling between Knightmare and Doctor and takes off into the night. The Doctor accuses Knightmare of hiding behind the mask, which is then removed to reveal the woman he granted immortality, who wonders aloud, “What took you so long, old man?” And so begins her begging the Doctor to take her with him, to get her out of the world he abandoned her to, without so much as a primer on the struggles of immortality.

In the Mix

Unprepared for immortality, Ashildr has been clearly affected by the difficulties it represents. She has no spaceship, no means for speedy travel, and living as an immortal bound to the mortal life clearly has disadvantages with which the Doctor is not entirely familiar. Ashildr has become resourceful, wise, manipulative out of necessity, changed her name to Me, and is unhappy. She longs for the ability to get out of her perceived prison. She is searching for the same amulet that the Doctor searches for in hopes that it will open up a portal to a new and better world for herself. She is desperate. Desperation and a headstrong will are not the best of partners.

The library room filled with Lady Me’s personal journals is a visual account of the experiences that occur over centuries of life. And those accounts become poignant as the Doctor reads from the journals, making note of pages that have been torn out (“When things get really bad, I tear the memories out”), and the traumatic experiences that have been part of Lady Me’s transition from innocent to disillusioned and cynical. She blames the Doctor for her misery and seeks to remind him that he is the reason she has become uncaring and addicted to adrenalin producing activities that give her something other than painful memories.

Many of the conversations between the Doctor and Lady Me are of great import. While the two of them hide during a break in, she asks him about Clara, pushes him to respond to the question of how many Claras he has lost. Clara, we heard in the opening sequence, is off taking taekwondo and the Doctor shares that she is usually the person who stops him from ignoring important situations, as every companion did. Lady Me seeks to drive home the point of losing those who are close and, if the Doctor’s expression is indication, she hits the designated nerve.

After getting out of a tight squeeze at the house (literally as they are up the chimney), the Doctor continues his didactic conversation intended to shake Lady Me from her dangerous and disingenuous habits. Lady Me dodges every point with her own well-designed comebacks. While “The Woman Who Lived” is easily one of the best episodes that we have seen, there are quibbles that prove to be minor annoyances. For example, camera shots of hanging posts while the Doctor and Lady Me discuss hanging are superfluous and unnecessary, and may be a distraction instead.

“The Woman Who Lived” is clearly a different Who ballgame. Though there is a “monster” who seeks to harm, the biggest monsters in the room are the two (make that three) lonely hearts of our protagonists. The show’s impact comes through their personal exploration and sharing rather than through sci-fi effect. In fact, the moments that sci-fi comes into play take us out of the drama with a somewhat jarring reminder that a template has been shifted. The deep-seeking tension between the Doctor and Lady Me almost caused me to find it unnecessary to mention that Lady Me was playing both sides: Leandro and the Doctor. Yet mentioning it serves to show that desperate people engage in desperate measures.

Though gender questioning appears to be part of the mix, the script projects Lady Me’s use of feminine wiles if she feels they may be helpful. When she asks the Doctor how she looks, it appears that she has taken the time to present herself as woman, though the effect is lost on the Doctor. He replies that she’s looking “pink” and wonders if she’s coming down with something. And, boom, we are thrown back into a stereotypical gender assignment—woman does what she can to look good for man and man doesn’t notice. This is taken further when Lady Me indicates that she has played Leandro against the Doctor: “I’m looking for a horse to get me out of town. You said no.” She’s not a gold-digger, but an amulet, take me away from this horrible life digger. May the best man win?

Making Points

One of the more poignant conversations between the Doctor and Lady Me is the question of his running away. “I’m stuck here, abandoned by the one man who should know what eternity feels like. . .Do you ever think, or care, what happens after you’ve flown away? I live in the world you leave behind, because you’ve abandoned me to it.” The Doctor comes back by indicating that she owns the “rust” of her heart. And, rightly so, she does. But that does not negate the reflection on his reaction to difficult situations—the running away.

At the Gallows and the Watering Hole

The need to accept personal responsibility is brought home when the villagers are attacked and Ashildr’s original compassion comes through, her horror at the potential death of the defenseless. Lenny the Lion’s true colors are revealed exactly as the Doctor predicted. He makes it clear that he had been using Lady Me the entire time after she callously snuffs out the life of Sam Swift to open the portal. Reality can be a bitter, bitter pill. Faced with no other recourse, Ashildr must share her immortality patch with the deceased to stop the carnage and close the portal. She does this without question. Why is it that it frequently takes a disaster, a death, or destruction to wake a person from their cynical slumber? The joi de vivre that is so evident in Sam Swift rejoining life serves as a powerful lesson for the Doctor to share with Ashildr. They need the mayflies, the ordinary people whose lives appear redundant and boring, people who make mistakes but continue to move forward. They need the mayflies to remind them of the beauty and magic in life. Ashildr doesn’t necessarily buy his diatribe—is this a question of wizened and wise Doctor talking to still young, idealistic, relatively new immortal? Ashildr, however, has a point when she says that someone has to look out for the people the Doctor leaves behind, or abandons as Ashildr puts it.

Back to Life as the Doctor Knows It

Enter RockDoc on the guitar and Clara through the TARDIS door—seeming normalcy in both their lives. The Doctor has missed Clara; Clara has missed the Doctor and is ready for their next adventure. He views a selfie of Clara and a student that shows Ashildr in the background. Yes, she will return. At close we see that the Doctor and Clara bring each other comfort—but based on the Doctor’s long-lived regenerations, how long can this be possible? How long before Clara leaves or dies? How long is it possible for any of us to find comfort in those we care for and love? Life is short; life is fleeting, but the joi de vivre and comfort in the moments with others may very well be worth the briefness of this mortal life.

End Notes

“The Woman Who Lived” was written by Catherine Tregenna (the first female writer for Doctor Who in six years), who has also written for Torchwood. She was faced with a challenge in writing a powerful episode to follow “The Girl Who Died,” and in this writer’s view, she not only rose to the challenge but surpassed it.

The episode was dramatic, yet maintained humorous aspects that served their purpose well. Sam Swift lent a great deal to the gallows scene with his ability to put off the end by doing stand-up comedy—a mirror for life. Frequently we see those in fear or pain cover with humor. But Sam isn’t the only purveyor of comedy. During the opening sequence, the Doctor provides a humorous entrance juxtaposed against the more serious note of the Knightmare. Though he quickly turns his typical, bumbling self from comedian to older teacher/mentor/father figure.

If you let this episode enter your veins, there will be much to take away from the interplay between the characters. This is not your typical sci-fi episode. Ashildr is a perfect example of seeing the world from where we are entangled, rather than as it is. The Doctor knows this. She will be on his heels, however, growing and learning as she travels the vastness of eternity from her mortal to immortal perspective.

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Essay

The Girl Who Died: What’s in Your Wallet?

“The Girl Who Died” is the best written, least formulaic story of the Capaldi era. Historical and scientific implausibilities are outweighed by overall emotion and character growth. The Doctor fights Vikings, alien invaders, and his own conscience.

Like most of Series 9, “The Girl Who Died” (written by Jamie Mathieson and Steven Moffat) has a terrific start. Concluding an undocumented adventure, Clara’s in danger and the Doctor’s trying to find her. The rescue does more than entertain with action and banter, though Capaldi and Coleman are clearly hitting their stride. The scene also provides a reason for their unplanned arrival in Viking-era England (the exact setting is unspecified; pick a year between 790 and 1066.) This random TARDIS materialization calls back to less formulaic stories (An Unearthly Child, The War Games, The Caves of Androzani, “Dalek“)where the Doctor’s only objective is getting back to the TARDIS in one piece.

Ripples vs. Title Waves

Clara’s an intriguing character this year, a welcome improvement. As show runner and co-writer, Moffat seems to be making up for her inconsistent characterization in Season 8. Having seen the Doctor transform from young flirty boyfriend to cranky old man, her growing interest in the rules of time travel are completely legitimate. Clara’s reasons for joining the Doctor, however, seem more unbalanced in every episode so far. Their conversations show that there is no psychologically sound reason to join him. His disregard for mundane life is romantic at best, reckless at worst. Missy’s reasons for choosing her are obvious: only a disconnected personality would sign up. Their relationship isn’t friendship; it’s mutual addiction.

Two Days on a Longboat

The Doctor/Clara hostage bickering is reminiscent of he and River Song in “Rain Gods,” another indication of just how emotionally dependent they are. Moffat’s trying to tell us something about this Doctor, perhaps with “premonition is remembering in the wrong direction.” In spite of the actual Viking history of looting, murder and human trafficking, our heroes believe they can somehow joke their way out of this. As far as historical accuracy, this story owes more to The Gunfighters than The Aztecs.

"Your mightiest warriors will feast with me tonight in the halls of Valhalla!"
“Your mightiest warriors will feast with me tonight in the halls of Valhalla!”

Then again, Doctor Who has always shown human atrocity through a sci-fi fantasy, safe for children filter. Settings of most Doctor Who period stories (“Daleks In Manhattan,” “Family of Blood,” “The Shakespeare Code“) are rooted in fictional history as opposed to actual history. Even this episode feels like a Capital One commercial. This child-driven sanitization of Doctor Who is out of step with current viewing habits. The BBC’s Saturday night time slot (8:20 in England, 9:00 in America) means the youngest viewers are teenagers exposed to actual news and history. Placing more emphasis on history and physics won’t turn Doctor Who into Torchwood or Judge Dredd.

This scene flows really well. Ashildr really did “remember in the wrong direction.” The Doctor’s fake Odin trick only backfired because the Mire beat him to it (assuming this isn’t the Mire’s first visit.) “Odin” in the clouds was too silly, but the Vikings never saw Monty Python and the Holy Grail. From the Mire’s perspective, it’s actually a great plan.

While the warriors get abducted, Clara goes against the Doctor’s orders to “not get chosen.” In this instant, she’s the Doctor. She bolts for Ashildr, under the premise of wanting her shackles off. In truth, she’s hoping the aliens detect the sonic glasses as advanced technology. Clara’s instructions sound like “magic in her real world.” Her trick worked, leaving the Doctor, whose TARDIS is two days on a long boat ride away.

Welcome to Valhalla

Once on the ship, Clara makes a pretty good Doctor. She tried everything possible to save herself and the Vikings, and appeared ready to die for a second. Her life on Earth means nothing. Then came the onslaught of writer’s construct: Clara abandons the men, taking Ashildr as her damsel in distress. Somehow, they’re not killed by the wall blasters. Why didn’t the warriors crawl under the blasts? They might not have been book smart, but Vikings were far from helpless.

Clara’s survival and analytical skills work well against the Mire leader. She’s certainly a better liar than Rose Tyler, who was placed in a similar situation in “The Christmas Invasion.” Clara’s fashion model spin drove this point home. She clearly learned something from her time with the Doctor. Going against the show’s formula, she negotiates a peaceful settlement…which Ashildr completely ruins by declaring war. Was she trying to impress Clara, or is it a pure emotional reaction to “Odin” turning her warriors into a testosterone fix? We’re not with her long enough to know. While we’re here, Odin’s testosterone addiction explains his Jekyll/Hyde parenting to Thor and Loki.

Meanwhile, the Doctor’s rant is convincing. He’s got to do something while waiting and hoping for Clara’s return.

I’m Not a Hugger

Maybe his 2,000 year Diary reminded him of losses and bloodbaths. Something influenced his attempt to sell avoidance to Vikings. All his logic, charm and persuasion fall on stubborn ears. “Do babies die with honor?” is a great line, but too conveniently timed. Like a lot of action movies, political campaigns, and tire commercials, this scene uses cute kids to say what hack writers are too lazy to express by other means. How else did she get to be such an expressive poet laureate in 2 or 3 months? Oh yeah, that “fire in the water” vision means she’s also psychic. Like Neo, she’s “looking at the world without time.”

Ashildr’s plea for the Doctor to stay is unconvincing. Weren’t they ready to kill him half an hour ago? Ashildr’s having a rough time processing the war she caused. To that end, she hopes the Doctor can somehow make the consequences of her actions go away. He should have left.

It Will Be Spectacular

Clara’s got way too much faith in the Doctor. It’s certainly stronger than Amy Pond’s in “The God Complex,” where the villian murdered his victims with their own worship. His plea for Clara to find another hobby doesn’t work because (a) she’s too addicted to listen and (b) he’s unqualified to tell anyone how to handle their emotions. Watching the Doctor process his “duty of care” for Clara exposes his addiction for companions. It’s gone far past the tenth Doctor’s loneliness. He knows it’s wrong, but can’t stop himself from recklessly bringing humans into his dangerous lifestyle. Twelve isn’t the whimsical madman in a box.

“A good death is all one can hope for” is his last ditch effort to save her. Clara’s “start winning” speech is just as nonsensical as her “anyone can be a hero” speech in “Day of the Doctor,” and only works because of help from the writers.

Is Clara bisexual?

Later, the Doctor and Ashildr have a private chat. She still feels bad about everyone’s impending death, but now shows no remorse for causing it. Her “I will pity you” speech stinks of writer’s construct. In 3 viewings, I still don’t see the value in her being a sexual hybrid. In one speech, the writers awkwardly download the inner workings of a character we’ve been with since the episode’s beginning. This scene felt like an afterthought to move the plot along.

Fire in the Water

That precocious baby got the Doctor to invent electromagnetism at least 800 years early. This, combined with the seventh Doctor’s guile, is how he won. But how did South American electric eels get to England? The solution is “the good old Doctor flim-flam” disguised as science. We aren’t shown how many electric eels there are, but they couldn’t possibly generate enough power to wreck the Mire’s battle armor. Large eels can produce 600 volts, but they need to be in perpetual fear to do so. They’d need to be in aluminum tanks to conduct their power into wires. And where did the wires come from? There couldn’t be enough silver in Clara’s spacesuit (Norrin Radd didn’t have that much silver!) Perhaps they melted copper coins, which England had since the third century.

Good thing Mire’s battlefield helmets are made of ferromagnetic metal. If their defense contractor went with copper or zinc, the show would be rebranded as Missy’s Revenge.

Wanting this level of science accuracy might seem a bit much, but we were challenged to “Google it” just last week.

Convincing Hologram

Ashildr’s fear makes sense, but I wish she didn’t show it. Suspending the scientific improbability of the Doctor’s plan, it was spectacular. Armed only with his diary as reference, he used Ashildr to hack into the Mire’s network. Tony Stark better watch his back. “Teaching a man to fish,” he shares his psychological war techniques with the Vikings. It’s almost like he’s teaching young Doctor Who viewers how to deal with bullies.

Speaking of which, what is his exit plan for introducing electricity, iPhones, and Benny Hill to the Viking Age? He’s either going to wipe their memories, or hope enough of them die.

I’ll Lose Any War You Like

"Come with me."
“Come with me.”

Why does Ashildr’s death trigger the Doctor’s melancholy? The Vikings didn’t blame him; they know she sacrificed her life for them. With so much prep work on short notice, the Doctor didn’t have time to consider how a Mire war helmet would affect a human. In context of the deaths he’s seen and caused, this reaction seems like a cheap way to get to the “why this face?” soliloquy. Russell T. Davies came up with this idea when Moffat cast Peter Capaldi as the twelfth Doctor. Davies hired Capaldi for “The Fires of Pompeii” and the Torchwood story “Children of Earth.” Speaking of Pompeii, the tenth Doctor’s “come with me” scene looks a lot like Terminator 2.

Is the twelfth Doctor’s Capaldi face a note-to-self saying it’s okay to play God, to decide who lives? Mr. Copper said that would make him a monster in “Voyage of the Damned,” and it didn’t work in “The Waters of Mars.” Why, even in a moment of rage, would the Doctor give anyone “functional immortality?” After realizing his error, he tells Clara “a good death is the best anyone can hope for.” He’s good at telling everyone else how to cope with death and loss, but “everybody else dying” doesn’t apply to him.

Our hero’s a bit hard on himself with the whole “running away from pain” thing. Personal loss is supposed to hurt; welcome to humanity. And as we found out in “The Name Of The Doctor,” a lot of planets got saved by his perceived emotional weakness.

What’s done is done. With a Mire’s battlefield medical kit that came from nowhere, the Doctor created a human/alien hybrid. Let’s hope it’s closer to the Doctor/Donna and not the half-human Time Lord in the 1996 Doctor Who movie.

Other than getting me dizzy, was there a point to Ashildr’s spinning green screen sunset scene?

Categories
Essay

The Girl Who Died: From Valhalla to Immortality

I don’t know about you, but if I almost had my brains devoured by a Love Sprite and came near to asphyxiation, I think I would have needed a moment or two to regain my equilibrium. Clara, however, pops up immediately and proceeds to natter on without so much as a thank you to the Doctor for saving her life. This may be considered typical Clara, but have we ever really known what is typical for Clara? Her personality has the propensity to be all over the place. When the Doctor steps outside the TARDIS to wipe the Love Sprite goo from his boots, she follows him outside questioning outcomes and complaining about not having been told the rules. The Doctor is prompted to say that he does as much as he can to resolve dangers and he warns her about making tidal waves, rather than ripples. This is an early foreshadowing of his mental struggles later in the episode. But for the moment, the more pressing matter is the arrival of a group of Vikings. When the Doctor attempts to dazzle them with his impressive technological sunglasses, one of the warriors takes them from his head and snaps them in two. Now, truth be told, weren’t we all waiting for something to happen to those infernal glasses? The opening sequence to “The Girl Who Died,” the first of a two-parter co-written by Jamie Mathieson (who also wrote “Mummy on the Orient Express” and “Flatline“) and Steven Moffat, gave us an adrenalin rush and then another glimpse into the anguish the Doctor carries with him always.

In the Mix

Two days later the Doctor and Clara arrive, in chains, at the Viking village via boat. The Viking who broke the glasses, strides in wearing half of them and tosses the half to Ashildr, who has joyously greeted the arriving warriors. Ashildr is played by Maisie Williams (Game of Thrones) and is a self-reported worrier and creative eccentric. The Doctor takes notice of Ashildr as he passes, and at Clara’s query indicates “People talk about premonition as if it’s something strange. It’s not. It’s just remembering in the wrong direction.”

And then he’s back to crowd-dazzling as he tosses the chains that had been around his wrist back to his captors. We’re left to figure out how a yo-yo can be used as an escape tool. The yo-yo has been a useful item for the Doctor since his second regeneration and has been used intermittently throughout classic Who and by the 12th Doctor. Launching into a personification of the god Odin, the Doctor attempts to scare the Vikings. Maybe he could have come closer to pulling it off if he didn’t toss out the silly yo-yo again and call it the sign of Odin. While intended to be a serious attempt to save himself and Clara, the yo-yo/Odin bit provides comedic effect for viewers. His antics are eclipsed by a hologram in the sky also claiming to be Odin. This projection serves to be far more impressive and effective than the Doctor’s ploy. Many of the fearful Vikings drop to their knees in homage. While the Doctor as false god did not intend to cause harm, typically false gods are nothing but trouble. The false god in the sky promises to bring the mightiest warriors to Valhalla and it isn’t difficult to see that the monster aliens have been introduced. His soldiers arrive to teleport the warriors, and Clara and Ashildr are teleported to the ship as well. The Doctor, shaken, leans on a wooden horse, another foreshadowing for later in the episode. Throughout this episode there are glimpses of foreshadowing allowing savvy viewers to have their own premonitions, which isn’t strange.

The Belly of a False Valhalla

It’s not a stretch to say that we knew the soldiers would meet an untimely end, which fits a template for Who. It would be rare that any or all would come out alive. Though there was that one day during the 9th Doctor’s regeneration that everyone lived (“The Doctor Dances,” Series 1, Episode 10). Ashildr and Clara are spared because of those silly half-glasses and Clara begins her communicative plan for release. She has clearly picked up some things from traveling with the Doctor, but Ashildr intervenes, headstrong and driven by emotion. Prior to her intervening it is revealed that the Odin impersonator’s mission is to collect the testosterone from warriors in order to become more powerful. “Warrior juice,” Clara says and then delivers a great line: “The universe is full of testosterone. Trust me, it’s unbearable.” Is this scene a showcase for both feminine strength and maturity? Ashildr is clearly not willing to back down, but has not yet seen (or been indoctrinated to) the power of verbal persuasion. Verbal persuasion doesn’t always work, but when it does it may save a few headaches. Two women, both passionate: one seasoned and wise, the other impulsive and full of heart? What say you?

War is declared for the next day and the pair is tele-dropped back on earth. The Doctor, unable to contain his joy that Clara is safe, runs toward her, stops to offer a thumb’s up, then breaks this regeneration’s no hugging rule and lifts her from the ground in a bear-hug. Can we consider this further evidence of the Doctor’s evolution within this regeneration?

To Battle or Not to Battle: Using the Old Noggin’

Discussion surrounding the upcoming battle ensues and it is surmised that all will perish. Initially the Doctor plans to leave them to their own demise, indicating that the battle will not affect the universe at large, so he has no actual reason to intervene. He has told them to run and that is all the help he is willing to give. However, he remains because of a baby. The 4th and 11th incarnations of the Doctor spoke baby, and now the 12th Doctor reminds us that the Doctor does, indeed, speak baby. It is the baby’s impassioned words that change the Doctor’s mind and, ultimately, inspire the plan to defeat the warring aliens.

Teaching the Viking villagers to battle proves to be both difficult and hilarious. The baby’s message “fire in the waters” triggers the Doctor to take note of the fish – electric eels. He puts the eels to good use once the warring aliens arrive and is able to force the retreat of the soldiers. The piece d’resistance is Ashildr’s use of the alien helmet to project the wooden horse as vicious dragon. Clara has caught the leader’s fear on iPhone and the Doctor threatens to upload the video to the Galactic Hub, humiliating him. As the leader threatens future punishment, the Doctor flips the teleport switch and he disappears.

The great tragedy is that Ashildr has died. Given the title of the episode, it wasn’t surprising and yet, caught up in the emotion of the moment, it was. The Doctor surmises that the holographic elements of the helmet used her up, draining her of her life force. Her death causes the Doctor to turn to the mirror in an effort to understand. Within the water, used as mirror, he realizes the reason he has this face and he remembers that it relates to Caecilius from “The Fires of Pompeii” (Fourth series, second episode). He remembers that he can choose, at times, to save people, and he decides that he will save Ashildr. Today, one person will live.

Immortality

In the process, however, he realizes that there is the possibility that she will no longer be able to die. This, the doctor does not necessarily feel is a good thing. After all, multiple regenerations later, the Doctor has come to understand that whoever he gets close to will eventually die and he must live on – alone. He has given Ashildr another repair kit to keep and when Clara questions why, the Doctor’s reply comes from a place of knowng: “Immortality isn’t living forever, that is not what it feels like. Immortality is everybody else dying. She might meet someone she can’t bear to lose. That happens.”

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor reflects on the action of saving Ashildr and the way his emotions came into play. Could this action trigger the tidal wave that he warns Clara about in the opening sequence? Insight into our actions comes through the processing of events and it appears that the Doctor is struck by the fact that he has created a hybrid in Ashildr by implanting an alien repair kit. What ramifications will that bring? If the closing scene is any indication, Ashildr’s being an immortal hybrid will bring her anguish, just as the Doctor carries anguish with him.

End Notes

During much of this episode we see the Doctor placing himself on the proverbial therapeutic couch, processing life, actions, regenerations, and his relationship to his companions. He, again, makes reference to the “duty of care” that he has for Clara. Again, he attempts to dissuade her from further travel with him. We know that Clara is leaving Doctor Who this season. In some part, this spoils our ability to climb down into the Doctor’s inner turmoil and see where and/or who has prompted these affirmations. I am left to wonder if he is trying to convince Clara that he has a responsibility for her care or if he is working to convince himself. After all, this is the regeneration of the Doctor who began by asking if he were a good man. A good man would certainly feel that duty of care.

The episode provided elements of suspense and humor, but overall, this writer took away the reflection. Water is the earth element said to represent emotions. We see water as electric and as a mirror in “The Girl Who Died.” Despite the integral part that Maisie Williams plays in her role of Ashildr, it appears that a great deal of this episode is about the Doctor. We do know that Williams will be back next week in “The Woman Who Lived,” but what part will she play in the future of Who if any? She is immortal and the Doctor made reference to her seeing him again when she woke from her deathbed. But, then again, we have never seen the Doctor’s daughter again, after she regenerated and flew off into space (“The Doctor’s Daughter, Series 4, Episode 6). “The Girl Who Died” is worth the viewing. Next week will bring an interesting conclusion: the two trailers that this writer has seen for “The Woman Who Lived” are empty of Clara and focus on Maisie Williams’ part. Hmmmmmmmm.