Tag: season 9

Essay

Face The Raven: You’ve Already Lost

Post author By David Marshall
Post date January 8, 2016
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Disguised as a sci-fi murder mystery, “Face The Raven” is about betrayal, addiction, and the death of Clara Oswald. Possibly the best showing of the twelfth Doctor.

How would time with the Doctor transform an Earthly child? While endangering his companions enough to land him in court at least twice (The War Games, The Trial of a Time Lord), the Doctor somehow empowered them. Most became braver (Barbara Wright and Ian Chesterton, Rose Tyler,) smarter (Leela,) more open-minded (Liz Shaw,) more compassionate (Vislor Turlough,) or more focused (Martha Jones). Others didn’t need transforming (Sarah Jane Smith, Romana, Ace.) In spite of having their lives threatened enough to qualify for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, most got away in good shape (perhaps there’s a support group). That’s an amazing track record.

Since not even Hank Aaron batted a thousand, other companions weren’t so lucky. Adric was killed, Donna Noble lost her memory, and Clara became a danger addict. Either she absorbed the Doctor’s worst personality traits by sheer osmosis, or her TARDIS time unlocked repressed urges (like Tegan in Kinda). Bonnie the Zygon felt pretty comfortable in Clara’s head in “Invasion of the Zygons.”

The first part of “Face the Raven” is formulaic at best: the Doctor is shown something weird, tracks down clues with new Who tech, and uses flimsy logic to find the alien refugee camp. It must be nice to write yourself out of trouble by dropping entirely new races and technology into the middle of the story. Actual whodunnits challenge us to solve the mystery before the hero does. Doctor Whodunnits are just stories to watch. The most compelling part is the second-half character journeys of Mayor Me, Clara, and the Doctor:

Mayor Me

Her Waterloo station reply is snide and vague. The original was built in 1848, the modern one in 1922.

Let’s take Me at her word, that some unnamed enemy is forcing her to give up the Doctor. Her solution is a flimsy mess, as Clara pointed out by saying “we barely got in.” Her plan is 100% reliant on the Doctor finding the refugee camp; if he didn’t, Rigsy would have died for nothing. Her plan is also overly elaborate. She should have summoned the Doctor directly, knocked him out, then slapped the teleport bracelet on him. Next season could be The Clara and Rigsy Adventures. Infinite lifespan and finite memory turned her into something far worse than the Mire she faced as Ashildr in “The Girl Who Died.” Me betrayed a friend (or at least an ally in protecting Earth). There’s no evidence that she even tried to resist. Perhaps she’s still angry about being made immortal without consent.

Please, no resistance. You’ve already lost.
Mayor Me

In this context, her apparent shock about Clara’s death is as unconvincing as everything else she’s said in this story. She showed no compassion for sicking the Quantum Shade/Raven on the old man, or presumably on anyone else in 100+ years. At best, she accepted the Raven as a public safety tax. The sudden concern for Clara is an awkward plot device to enhance Clara’s death scene.

With the exception of Clara compassion, Maisie Williams’ performance is as flat as Chuck Norris’. Her facial expression, vocal inflections and body language are exactly the same throughout the story. According to Kevin Smith and Spike Lee, directors are usually to blame when great actors look bad. Others say it’s the sole responsibility of the actor. Williams looks like like a hostage delivering her lines, hoping it’ll all work out in the end.

A better performance would have gone a long way toward understaing the refugee camp’s tense political situation; it reminds me of El Rey, the criminal village in Jim Thompson’s The Getaway. Thompson based it on his personal concept of Hell:

Doc and Carol McCoys’ half-million dollar fortune is worth relatively little with the extortionate cost of living. Their future looks bleak; nobody lives long in El Rey. Running out of money means getting banished to a village of cannibals. They’re finally inseparable, in Hell.
Casimir Harlow, reviewing “The Getaway” (1972 film) for AV Forums

Like El Rey, Mayor Me’s refugee camp is a tense détente among many enemies. The most violent space thugs in the Whoniverse have to surpress their instincts just to survive there. This agreement is more fragile than the Zygon truce built on a pair of empty Osgood Boxes.

Clara Oswald

Clara Oswald wasn’t written very well for adults until now. From her debut in “Asylum of the Daleks” through last season’s “Kill the Moon,” she was Moffat’s second Manic Pixie Dream Girl. “I always know” from “The Day of the Doctor” was especially excruciating. She wasn’t a credible teacher.

That begins to change, starting with “Mummy on the Orient Express.” Clara seems to have written off every non-Doctor element out of her life. She’s not even bothering to hide it anymore. Even the death of her boyfriend isn’t mentioned. From Clara’s point of view, the shocked reactions from loved ones must seem silly and over protective. Those feelings, like her ordinary human life, are meaningless. She’s as cut off from these emotions as Mayor Me is from Ashildr.

This is visible in her reaction to almost falling out of the TARDIS, hundreds of feet over London. It looked physically impossible, except for two fast-motion quick shots that seem like last-minute film edits. The first shows her left foot hooked around the left door (that must’ve been hooked open like a screen door), and the second shows her right thigh pressed against the closed right door. Clara’s leg split probably couldn’t be shown in a single shot without looking like she was showing off for Jane Austin.

Clara’s plan to save Rigsy was equally reckless, but not stupid as the Doctor and Mayor Me imply. She wasn’t aware of the Quantum Shade/Rigsy contract, so how could she violate it? Since Clara’s intervention caused the Quantum Shade account to be one death short, couldn’t the balance be rolled into the next death? That could surely be worked out in a refugee camp of Cybermen, Sontorans and Daleks. The Mayor’s negotiation skills aren’t very impressive.

Why? Why shouldn’t I be so reckless? You’re reckless all the bloody time. Why can’t I be like you?
Clara Oswald

That said, Clara’s death speech is fantastic. She’s finally allowed to act like an adult. Her explanation about why she took crazy risks seems like a lazy writer hack, but successfully bridges into an acceptance of death. In an unusual moment of clarity, Clara owns up to her actions. She’s more concerned with what she leaves behind. Her lectures about Rigsy’s guilt and the Doctor’s rage are compelling and selfless. With “we’re both just going to have to be brave,” Clara might have reminded the Doctor of his bravery speech for Codal in Planet of the Daleks. Sarah Dollard‘s script gives her insight, introspection and courage I wish she’d had since her debut in “The Bells of Saint John.”

Doctor Who under Steven Moffat has (perhaps not unfairly) been accused of killing off characters for dramatic effect only to swiftly resurrect them for when the script demands a fuzzy feeling deep inside.
Jon Cooper, reviewing “Face The Raven” for The Independent

The Doctor

This episode begins with the Doctor and Clara laughing about some danger they just escaped. Since last season’s “Mummy on the Orient Express” and “Flatline,” Clara transformed from perky fanboy fantasy to action addict. In 2,000 years of renegade time travel, he’s never seen this reaction. Usually they leave. The Doctor is genuinely surprised and feels guilty, but is at a loss for how to correct this “onging problem.”

The Doctor’s guilt and helplessness reminds me a moment in The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Perhaps it’s on his reading list for understanding humans, as well as his own rebellion against the Time Lords. When recalling his criminal years as Malcolm Little, he expressed remorse about his wholesome girlfriend, Laura, becoming a herion addict. In reality, like Clara, she made her own choices.

It’s a very small universe when I’m angry with you.
The Doctor

Out of the three leads, the Doctor’s journey is the least compelling. Moffat’s Doctor is still the king of empty threats, bragging about his stats while being quite helpless. Perhaps he’s using this as a bluff, like Will Munny at the end of “Unforgiven.” But there’s nothing in the script or performance to distinguish this from similar Kirk-like bragging under Moffat’s reign. Does Moffat’s Doctor berate men this way?

In Summary

The first half of “Face The Raven” is an enertaining, but formulaic sci-fi murder mystery. Everything unique and interestsing about it is the character journeys of Mayor Me, Clara, and the Doctor. The major themes are betrayal, addiction, and the death of Clara Oswald. This is possibly the best showing of the twelfth Doctor.

TARDIS Bits

Late is better than not at all. Shut up.

The Doctor loves scaring Rigsy.
Nice seeing Retcon, the sleaziest drug in the Whoniverse.
It’s always weird seeing the TARDIS fly.
Why did Mayor Me take her scarf off so cinematically? She looked like Morris Day handing something to Jerome.
On her way out, Clara should’ve beat the hell out of Mayor Me. It’s not like she had anything to lose. What happened to slap-happy Clara?
I’m proud of myself for not making one Joe Flacco reference.

Essay

The Woman Who Lived: Nightmare to Knightmare

Post author By Rene Schwiesow
Post date October 27, 2015
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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.

Essay

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

Post author By David Marshall
Post date October 23, 2015
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“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

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?

Tags ashildr, capital one, d12, electric eel, immortality, jamie mathieson, lobus caecilius, maisie williams, mire, monty python, norse mythology, peter capaldi, season 9, vikings

Essay

The Girl Who Died: From Valhalla to Immortality

Post author By Rene Schwiesow
Post date October 19, 2015
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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 12^th 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 9^th 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 4^th and 11^th incarnations of the Doctor spoke baby, and now the 12^th 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.

Tags ashildr, immortality, jamie mathieson, lobus caecilius, maisie williams, mire, norse mythology, peter capaldi, premonition, season 9, vikings

Essay

Before the Flood: Quantum Depths

Post author By Rene Schwiesow
Post date October 13, 2015
No Comments on Before the Flood: Quantum Depths

What fourth wall? The TARDIS is bigger on the inside, but is it big enough to allow millions a front-row seat to the Doctor as he walks the corridors narrating fairy tales and admonishing viewers to google bootstrap paradox, which may be necessary knowledge to unravel the knots in the rest of the episode? In addition, the opening segment provides a convenient avenue for Peter Capaldi, aka the RockDoc, to bring out the guitar again. Given Capaldi’s musical roots and his ability to play the guitar, this may be a recurring incident. Despite the somewhat disconnected feel of the narration from the story, the opener in “Before the Flood” did command attention. Murray Gold’s rock version of the Doctor Who theme was a nice touch.

In the stew

Mix mythology, physics, and the appearance of potential paranormal apparitions and what do you get? You get the second episode of the two-parter “Under the Lake/Before the Flood,” written by Toby Whitehouse. While Who’s Fisher King has nothing to do with the Holy Grail, he does have a similarity with the Arthurian legend. The mythological “wounded king” waits for someone to heal him, while Who’s Fisher King waits to be saved, to be returned home, in essence to heal from a perceived death and removal from his planet. Our hero goes back in time to the city before it flooded to find the spaceship from “Under the Lake” and eventually comes face-to-face with the Fisher King. But not before he meets the undertaker from Tivoli, still alive, passing out cards, and using a blatant reference to S&M that makes one wonder if R.T. Davies was whispering in Whitehouse’s ear during the scripting.

Confronting the Fisher King

Bennett and O’Donnell, two members of an underwater base called the Drum, have accompanied the Doctor on this fact-seeking trip. O’Donnell is a warm and straight-forward fan of the Doctor and isn’t about to be treated like the female assistant left behind to watch the office. Since she’s already been demoted once for dangling a colleague from an open window, it seems reasonable that the Doctor allow her to go. Yet, after we find out that the Doctor knew she was next on the list to be killed we are left wondering (and maybe a bit angry) that he was not more persuasive in her remaining behind in the TARDIS. When O’Donnell decides to split away from the Doctor and Bennett, her demise appears to be imminent. The Fisher King finds and kills her in an abandoned building. Bennett is heartbroken and accuses the Doctor of using O’Donnell as an experiment. Did he? Why does her ghost return to the underwater base? And why does she take Clara’s phone? Despite the annoyance, the easy answer is that it was convenient to the plot because the Doctor wanted Clara to keep the phone close. Is this another instance of “accept it” as was implied in the “Witch’s Familiar?”

The more complex answer is that the Fisher King was directing the movement of his electromagnetic minions through sound vibration. Given the consistent use of electromagnetic radiation in this two-parter, the more complex answer is, perhaps, more plausible. The use of Vector in Vector Petroleum was not random, but further affirmation of the physics. Doctor Who, after all, has a history of promoting science. And Michael Faraday (ah, yes, the Faraday cage) was the scientist behind the vector field.

Science tangent aside, after a discussion with Clara, the Doctor sends Bennett back to the TARDIS and makes his plans to confront the Fisher King. It appears that the Fisher King has the Doctor in a corner, but in traditional Who fashion, he comes roaring back with power. Did anybody else wonder why the Fisher King simply listened in silence? The Doctor tricks the Fisher King into believing that the message in the ship has been erased and he strides out of the building to check on the ship while the Doctor hijacks the suspended animation chamber and ends up back at the underwater base. Seriously? How? Clearly the Doctor did a lot of off-screen planning, including programming the TARDIS to return to the underwater base, bringing Bennett back to safety.

Meanwhile back at the Ship, Timey-Wimeyness, and Paradoxes

Clara holds court with Cass and Lunn in the Faraday cage. Her assessment is that Lunn does not have the homing words imprinted and that he should go retrieve her cell phone. After heated communication from Cass and the only vocal utterance she issues in the two-parter, an anguished “No,” Lunn leaves the Faraday cage. Up to this point, it could have been said that Cass was not only deaf but mute. When she utters “No,” I am left wondering why she hasn’t spoken words before and why she didn’t use words when left alone with Clara sans sign interpreter. Lunn encounters the ghosts who appear to assess him, but then let him pass. He finds the phone on a table in the cafeteria and is promptly locked inside the room by the ghosts. When he doesn’t return in a timely fashion to the Faraday cage, Cass and Clara take off to look for him and end up separating. One of the eeriest scenes of the episode ensues when the ghost of Moran follows Cass down a corridor dragging the axe. The sound of the axe dragging its metal against metal is not heard by the deaf Cass. When the camera shows us her perspective, there is no sound. The sound returns when she moves forward and the audience sees the ghost once again. As the ghost gets closer, Cass’ other senses kick in and her intuition tells her something is near. She reaches down and touches the floor to feel for vibration (shown well on film) and is horrified to realize that danger is so close. She turns and runs through the ghost projection before he can get her with the axe.

The two women end up in the cafeteria with Lunn and when the ghost projections enter through the walls, the trio makes a run for the Faraday cage. Before they get there they encounter the doctor exiting the suspended animation chamber. He has arranged for a sound projection of the Fisher King’s howl emanating from his holographic projection. The howl draws the ghosts into the Faraday cage where they are entrapped.

The Doctor debriefs the remaining crew. This included explaining how he used a holographic projection of himself as ghost to manipulate situations on the ship for their benefit. The philosophy that time is not linear serves its purpose well during this episode, because the tangle of cause and effect that leads to the ultimate capture of the ghosts is definitely timey-wimey. If “Before the Flood” does nothing else it makes good use of the bootstrap paradox or causal loop. If you were confused by the opening Beethoven scene, you were probably not alone. Embracing paradox is not always easy to do. Suffice it to say that if something did not happen in the past, a time traveler could go back and create its occurrence, which would affect outcomes in the future. From the quantum timey-wimey perspective, is this a sci-fi device or could this be reality?

Only Love is Real

We were treated to two romances in “Before the Flood.” There was no real prior evidence for the romance between Bennett and O’Donnell that became prominent with the tragic death of O’Donnell. But when we go back and consider events, there was plenty of evidence for the underlying romance between Cass and Lunn. Life lessons serve no purpose unless they change us and/or allow us to help others see things a bit more clearly. Bennett took full advantage of that, utilizing his grief to point out wasted time to Lunn. Apparently Bennett knew of Lunn’s love for Cass, which Lunn had never expressed to her. Yes, Doctor Who, can affect life from an social commentary perspective and from a social/emotional perspective. In a measured plea, Bennett tells Lunn: “Tell her that you’re in love with her and you always have been. Tell her there’s no point in wasting time. Because things happen and then it’s too late.” Lunn is at first taken aback by the suggestion, but does translate these words to Cass (who may have already known them through reading Bennett’s lips). When she hesitates to respond, Lunn begins to falter indicating that he was only translating Bennett’s words, but Cass grabs him and kisses him. From this writer’s perspective, if one person is awakened to the fragility of life, if one person realizes that they have taken someone for granted, if one person accepts the genuine love of another into their life, the scripting of these lines will have been well worth it. For these characters, and for so many other people, Clara’s words to the Doctor are true: “You’ve made yourself essential to me. You’ve given me something else to be.” And that is beautiful.

End Notes

Critical discussion for “Before the Flood” varies. There are those who loathe the episode, those who are meh in regard to it, those who found it worth viewing but acknowledge the faults, and those who loved it. I am among those who found it worth viewing, but acknowledge that there are faults, questions, and aspects that are difficult to disentangle if not downright confusing. The writing was experimental, perhaps, in some places and the plot full of challenges. The measure of success lies in whether or not Whitehouse was able to create a successful end to his two-parter. Success may not be seen only in perfect continuity. Perhaps, success can be seen in the ability for an episode to provide further discussion and/or questions. Perhaps, success can be seen in the great number of people who may have taken the Doctor’s words to heart and googled bootstrap paradox. Perhaps, success will be seen in the number of Who fans prompted to pull up back episodes to search for continuity. And perhaps success will be seen in those who examine the relationships between the characters and apply their connections to the relationships in their own lives. Fiction can provide the words and scenes we need to move feet and mountains.

Tags bootstrap paradox, clara oswald, d12, electromagnetics, faraday cage, fisher king, michael faraday, quantum physics, quantum theory, season 9, timey wimey, tivoli, tivolian, toby whitehouse

Essay

Under the Lake: Energy Never Dies

Post author By Rene Schwiesow
Post date October 4, 2015
No Comments on Under the Lake: Energy Never Dies

Niels Bohr would be intrigued by Toby Whitehouse’s refreshing, back-to-the-basics episode. “Under the Lake” is far less “accept it” showy entertainment and more sci-fi story. What a novel concept for Doctor Who. Whitehouse has an ongoing history with the show. He began writing episodes in 2006 (“School Reunion“), beginning under Russell T. Davies and continuing under Steven Moffat. And for that, the Who fandom is grateful. He has frequently been touted as a potential successor when Moffat leaves. Currently, however, Whitehouse keeps himself busy with his own projects, including BBC Three’s Being Human.

Closing in on the Halloween season, Whitehouse chose to offer us a ghost story. And who knew the Tardis would be afraid of ghosts? Then again, it’s far more likely that she’s afraid of the electromagnetic energy of the ghosts rather than any supernatural powers. Imagine if the ghosts entered into the Tardis and could wreak havoc with the electrical system? We open the episode with the Doctor knowing that she is unsettled, while Clara tries to convince him to leave for another adventure (one would think that Clara knows that where they land adventure will follow). The Tardis is so frightened of the ghosts that later in the episode the Doctor has to throw on the hand brake.

I was confused that the two ghosts the Doctor and Clara first encountered were merely curious and did not attempt to kill them. (And I was more confused later in the episode when a ghost chooses not to kill another crew member.) Given the storyline, it appears that they were programmed to kill in order to convert and harness more energy. Perhaps, I thought, there was some supernatural, metaphysical aspect of them that took over in order to lead the Doctor and Clara to the ship. Then, sadly disappointed that the Doctor was not able to immediately assist, they went into aggressive mode. Then it hit me, none of these characters had yet been into the space ship when they first encountered the ghosts. Quibble resolved.

From the get-go, I felt a nuanced difference in Clara and the Doctor’s characters and found it both intriguing and beneficial to their working together as a team. The Doctor introduces himself by use of psychic paper that declares him UNIT and lets everyone know that he’s in charge in an oh, so subtle way (“So, who’s in charge now? I need to know who to ignore.”). Simulated day returns and the underwater team (which includes the insufferable, greedy Pritchard), the Doctor, and Clara gather in the control room to conference. The Doctor, as we know, has few filters. He has rarely been known for the ability to engage in what is considered appropriate social interaction, and endearingly we see that Clara has devised cue cards. Of course, they cannot be beneficial if read verbatim. Throughout the episode, it appeared that the connection between Clara and the Doctor flowed more easily and each character felt a bit more defined. Or, have I lost my mind? I have read one other account wherein the author would take issues with this contention. The scene in the Tardis where the Doctor reminds Clara that there is only one of him and that he has a duty of care, is in my humble opinion, geared toward definition. And you have to admit that the Doctor’s lovable arrogance shined brightly. This may be my personal perception and other viewers will have their reactions and preferences to this scene.

Far be it from me to ever say that Doctor Who contains social commentary (but it does). It certainly seemed appropriate that Pritchard was flushed out of the ship after leaving to seek the missing power cell strictly for monetary reasons. Who else guffawed when his early response to the Doctor about leaving the ship was: “…It’s not them that lost a bonus.” Of course the Doctor’s brilliant response was: “It’s ok, I understand. You’re an idiot.”

Things are made more interesting by the symbols that have been found inside the ship. We are shown that once they are looked at they register on the eye. Later, we find out that their magnetic imprint programs the individual so that when dead, the words (which are coordinates) will be repeated over and over as transmission. Without the imprint, an individual would be useless. Brilliant. I want to meet the species that designed that.

I should state that the Doctor doesn’t believe that ghosts are a natural phenomenon. Or didn’t. Or doesn’t. And the way that he announces that the “monsters” are ghosts is every bit what my idea of the 12^th Doctor is — frequently oblivious to others. Typically it does not appear that this is an intentional slight of others, it may be that the Doctor is simply so lost within his own processing that he frequently dismisses what others say even if there may be some underlying sense. Or am I romanticizing this potential fault? We have likely all encountered people like this and it can be annoying, but the Doctor’s character tends to make it embraceable on some level.

From a paranormal perspective, it is thought that ghosts have the ability to manipulate energy and electricity. From a quantum physics perspective, energy never dies, it simply changes form and that form remains part of the four fundamental reactions. The ghosts that plague our characters in “Under the Lake” had the ability to manipulate the system controls to bring on night and give them an advantage in being able to use the ship against its inhabitants. Were ghosts actually at play? Or is there an intelligent being who is able to harness the shifted energy of the dead?

Indeed, Whitehouse has taken us back to basics. A base under siege story with plenty of walks/runs down dark corridors and a storyline where the characters can shine through performance and dialogue was a perfect prescription. Visuals, production, and direction may remind many fans of classic Who as well as an allusion or two to modern Who. The Doctor and Clara saying good-bye through porthole windows, behind flood doors, reminded me of the Doctor and Donna saying hello through windows (Series 4, first episode, “Partners in Crime“). Throughout the entirety of Doctor Who, the Doctor and his companion have been partners. Whitehouse made this connection apparent, once again, in “Under the Lake.” I couldn’t help but wonder if his I’m the only Doctor reminder to Clara was a throw-back to the Doctor Donna days. And, by the way, who knew that Clara wrote songs?

A poignant part of the episode is that the individual next in charge following the death of the commander of the base is deaf (as is Sophie Stone, the actor who portrays her). Through the use of sign and her interpreter she was both quiet and vocal when necessary in order to lead. Though the Doctor appeared to dismiss her, along with the others, when issuing his own orders, he was very aware of her thought processes and, perhaps, some heightened intuitive sensitivities. She knew it was unsafe to go into the space ship and insisted that her interpreter not go, why? She realized that the symbols in the ship were not merely words or symbols. Again, not to overplay social commentary, but is this a nod to accepting disability in the social structure, rather than labeling or ostracizing?

Having said that, it is thought-provoking and irritating that the one black member of the crew gets about 15 seconds of air-time, and is then killed. There is an unfortunate history in Doctor Who with black, male characters receiving the short end of the stick. Is the BBC really oblivious to this fact?

Overall, this episode was a refreshing drink of water and, thankfully, not the poisoned water on “The Water of Mars.” We stay alive quite well through the ghostly ordeal and the quibbles are few. Those storyline quibbles that may exist can wait until the second of this two-parter where they will hopefully be resolved. I, personally, found that the dots were easier to connect in this Whitehouse episode and that far fewer dots went missing. On to next Saturday — Geronimo!

Sophie Stone talks about “Under the Lake”

Tags d12, fundamental interactions, niels bohr, peter capaldi, quantum theory, season 9, toby whitehouse, UNIT

Essay

The Witch’s Familiar: Am I a Good Man?

Post author By Rene Schwiesow
Post date September 28, 2015
4 Comments on The Witch’s Familiar: Am I a Good Man?

Lies, manipulation, and trickery — “The Witch’s Familiar” burns these candles on the altar of Skaro. The question is who will be sacrificed? Put your hip boots on because the excrement is rising and you’re going to have to wade through the B.S. to decide who has placed the spells and on whom.

Hex’s aside, where did Missy get the rope that has Clara hung upside down from a rock and looking a lot like The Hanged Man of the Tarot? (As an aside, it was kind of Missy to use the rope to keep Clara’s skirt from falling to reveal her nether regions.) In the finale of a two-parter that began with “The Magician’s Apprentice,” perhaps the answer is that Missy/Master has the conjuring powers of magic? And while she was at it, she conjured up a relatively substantial stick (on a planet with minimal vegetation and petrified jungles) and a whittling knife, implying that she may get hungry enough to eat her dangling prey. There is no doubt that Michelle Gomez uses her lines to maximum effect and certainly has the ability to bewitch all through her hilarious and paradoxical antics. The Hanged Man is the card of suspension and the unlikely trio (Doctor, Master, and Companion) have definitely found themselves suspended in uncertainty on Skaro.

After last week’s episode we were left wondering if Missy and Clara survived extermination. Ok, not really, we knew they survived, but how? Missy enlightens us with narrative, while the producers/directors provide us with a visual of the Doctor’s escape from Androids. Then with a few eye-wink taunts toward Clara and a decision that the two of them have a mission to save the Doctor, they are off to the heart of the Dalek empire. Though not without one final quip from Missy: “Pity then, I was actually quite peckish.” I was literally delighted at the tonality Missy used in saying peckish!

Inside the Dalek empire, Davros begins to have what appears to be a heart-to-two-heart talk while the Doctor perseverates on how to find out if Clara has survived. He succeeds in removing Davros from his chair and leaves his half-body writhing on the floor. Free-wheeling out of the infirmary (dare I say arrogantly) in Davros’ chair, the Doctor confronts the Daleks.

The Daleks use multiple guns to exterminate him and we are provided a mini-cliff hanger while we switch to Clara and Missy contemplating the depth of the drop to the sewer system, which is the graveyard for decaying Daleks. Chalk another one up for Missy’s evil sarcasm as she bumps Clara from the edge. “Twenty feet,” Missy surmises when Clara hits bottom. I don’t know about you, but if I fell twenty feet, it is likely that I wouldn’t pop up without an ankle twist or a hurt arm, but Clara miraculously jumps to her feet, angry. Maybe the adrenalin means she’s overlooked her pain.

Briefly back to the Doctor who has thwarted the extermination and is casually drinking tea. In case anyone questions the Doctor’s abilities, he helps us out with the answer. Because…”I’m the Doctor. Just accept it.” Is this Moffat’s way of covering for inconsistency and plot holes? Back at the infirmary Davros has other plans and Colony Sarff is more than willing to assist.

By this point we’re approximately one-third through the episode and I’m wondering at Missy’s motives with regard to Clara. She pulls Clara emotionally back and forth, implying demise then referring to them as a team. Missy, as we know, does nothing without forethought. And her forethought is always a ticking bomb. The bomb of a line that she drops on us in the sewer is an allusion to her past liaison with the Doctor on Gallifrey. She takes a brooch off to direct dark star magic and intimates: “…the Doctor gave it to me when our daughter…” She is startled and we are left with that. Huh? She kills an arriving Dalek using her stick and a really bad Texan accent then encases Clara in the Dalek’s shell. We’re reminded of the classic Who episode, The Daleks, and Ian Chesterton’s climb into an empty Dalek shell (season 1, second story).

Dreams and flashbacks and we find the Doctor waking, seated on the only other chair on Skaro. Davros is talking, setting up the Doctor but certainly offering clues. Perhaps the creators of Doctor Who thought we, the audience, would be easily led by the manipulation, but the savvy viewer saw the snake eyes on the cable and knew Colony Sarff was going to cause the Doctor trouble. From Davros’ perspective the Doctor reveals, again, his greatest weakness and he believes that he can play on the compassion that plagues the Doctor’s personality.

Meanwhile, Clara is indoctrinated to the mental capacity that will move her Dalek casing. Now that she is firmly seated inside the shell and it is closed, the scene is reminiscent of Oswin Oswald (“Asylum of the Daleks,” series 7, first episode). Oswin was wholly converted to Dalek. Perhaps it was the full conversion that made the difference, but I was still left questioning how Oswin could speak and it would be translated verbatim, but when Clara spoke the words were bastardized by the Dalek casing. When I consider that further, it must be observed that the Dalek wiring was supposed to be picking up Clara’s thoughts and those thoughts would control the casing. How, then, without the actual Dalek physical body inside, could the Dalek casing change Clara’s words? To finish watching the episode that confusion must be put aside or we’d never get through the scene that allows the Doctor to discover Clara in the Dalek without derision.

We are treated to further seemingly endearing, though manipulative conversations between the Doctor and Davros. We laugh when the Doctor chooses to save the sunglasses because we are in on the joke, but Davros is not. For the first time we see Davros open his own eyes to look at the Doctor. And I don’t know about you, but I let out a loud guffaw when Davros asked if he was a good man. It may be at this point that the Doctor fully realizes Davros’ manipulation and plots the demise of Davros, the Daleks, and the heart of the empire. Calling upon regeneration energy, the doctor grabs the cables, which are Colony Sarff, and his regeneration energy surges into Davros and all the Daleks — all the Daleks and that includes the undead. You’ve got your wading boots on, right? Because, you guessed it, the excrement of decaying Daleks is literally rising through the pipes of the city, causing destruction and eventual demise. Of course the Doctor would not have been stupid enough to allow the Daleks to remain half Time Lord and half Dalek, now would he?

It does appear that Missy saves the day when she bursts in to sever the Doctor’s electric connection. Always the paradox, Missy’s “goodness” soon reverts to her typical evil ways when she attempts to get the Doctor to murder Clara. Remember when I said you needed to suspend the question of the Dalek casing mistranslating Clara’s speech? Well, if you have not been able to do that, then the touching ending will be entirely lost. Clara’s emotions eventually cause the Dalek to say the word mercy, which the Doctor surmises has been coded into Dalek genetics. And that word saves Clara from death at the Doctor’s hand. How did the coding of mercy occur?

After the Doctor and Clara escape the city, cue the Doctor’s return to the young Davros. Exterminating hand mines, the Doctor saves the young boy, causing a small piece of mercy to be implanted into Dalek genetics. And the rest is timey-wimey, wibbly-wobbly. “So long as there’s mercy. Always mercy.”

No, this episode isn’t smooth, consistent sailing either. However, it provides some interesting links between characters and some great dialogue with memorable one-liners from Missy, the Doctor, Davros, and Clara, especially as Oswin throw-back.

I’ve yet to read discussion regarding the titles of the two-part opener for Series 9. Who is the magician and who is the apprentice? Who is the witch and who is the familiar? Missy does refer to Clara as a poppet, does this imply that Missy is the witch? Would that make the Doctor the magician? Or are the titles simply used by Moffat because we’re approaching the cusp of October and the magical time of year?

Finally, in this finale, is Missy the sacrifice on Skaro’s altar? Yes, I already know your answer, but the discussion could be fun.

Tags davros, season 9, skaro

Essay

The Magician’s Apprentice: From Kahn to Skaro

Post author By David Marshall
Post date September 24, 2015
2 Comments on The Magician’s Apprentice: From Kahn to Skaro

Series 9 of Doctor Who started off with a bang, delivering the good, the bad and the WTF we’ve come to expect. “The Magician’s Apprentice” is half of a 2-part story. Here’s what I got out of the season’s big premiere.

Have You Ever Seen a Hand Mine?

When done well, the time travel genre can express character transformation. Look what it did for Phil Connors in Groundhog Day. This might be the best example of the Doctor “making his own monster” since The Face of Evil.

Of course Kanzo, the compassionate black soldier, had to die saving the cute white kid. As a product of British culture, Doctor Who has always been tone-deaf to race. Tomb of the Cybermen has the big, dumb, black manservant Toberman. The Talons of Weng-Chiang (fourth Doctor) and Four to Doomsday (fifth Doctor) use the term “china man” as tool of oppression. Even in the Russell T Davies era “The Shakespeare Code ,” the Doctor dismisses Martha’s logical concerns about becoming a slave (which was later picked up in “Human Nature”/”Family of Blood.“)

“Hand mine” is a great pun. I thought the creatures were a copy of that child-eating monster from Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) Turns out that was inspired by Tenome, a mythical creature from the Japanese picture book series Gazu Hyakki Yakō (“The Illustrated Night Parade of A Hundred Demons,” published in 1776.)

Davros Remembers

The Maldovarian bar scene is a sustained cliché. Was that Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes playing “My Angel Put the Devil in Me” in the background? Like Pepperidge Farm, Davros remembers. But why does he send Colony Sarff all over the universe like an intergalactic thug-a-gram? “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll do something…cinematic!” He should’ve called the Twelfth Cyber Legion; they seemed to know everything in A Good Man Goes To War” (written by Steven Moffat). Davros could have delivered his cryptic message more efficiently with email, chat, or GoToMeeting.

Then there’s the “super powered servant” cliché. The earliest example I can think of is Silver Surfer (Fantastic Four #48–50, 1966). The Surfer, however, did reconnaissance for a real “destroyer of worlds.” Colony Sarff is more pointless than Luca Brasi.

Why can’t the Doctor have super powered companions?

What are Colony Sarff’s superpowers, anyway? They seem like the Mara from Kinda, who could manipulate the weakened Davros. How’d he get past those scary Judoon to break into the Shadow Proclamation? In typical new Who plot sloppiness, show runners hope the scene is too awesome for us to care how it happened…or that we don’t remember past episodes. It’s like they don’t know their audience.

It Saves Time

The banter between the Doctor and High Priestess Ohila was terrific. Although she wasn’t alive when the fourth Doctor met the Sisterhood in The Brain of Morbius, their personal friendship seems almost that long. She certainly isn’t fazed by his compulsive lying. Her plea shows a sad, helpless frustration of not being able to stop a loved one from self-destruction. Quoting a Rilo Kiley line, the Doctor seemed as “ready to go” as he did at the end of Planet of the Spiders. Moffat being Moffat, he almost ruined this with his sappy “you can never lose a friend” line.

It’s too bad Moffat decided the High Priestess couldn’t be Ohica, played by Gillian Brown in The Brain of Morbius. Hiring Ms. Brown to reprise the role would have been a nice touch.

#ThePlanesHaveStopped

Clara Oswald is still a horrible teacher. How would “Jane Austin’s a phenomenal kisser” not get her fired? A real teacher wouldn’t have time for Danny or the Doctor. In a credibility nose-dive from An Unearthly Child, last season’s portrayal of teaching is less believable than time travel and “little blue men with three heads.”

Without turning the show into Room 222 or The Secret Life of the American Teenager, this could have been fixed by giving each story a brief moment to Clara’s job preparation. She could have graded on the TARDIS, bounced ideas off P.E. over dinner, or confided with her grandmother (which would have made amazing for both generations of independent women).

UNIT is just as clumsy and indiscrete as they were under the Brig. Those morons outed Clara as a government operative. I’m beginning to think the MI6 passed on Kate Stewart’s resume. In an even bigger WTF moment, the woman who was ready to blow up the world in “Day of the Doctor” is insecure plot device, deferring to the worst high school teacher since Henry “Indiana” Jones.

We have Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to thank for the “gifted amateur” being smarter than trained professionals. In his world, police are incompetent, authority figures are mean, and women are mysterious at best.

Sherlock Holmes‘ super power was “Holmesian deduction, solving crimes with forensic science (fingerprints, anthropometry, toxicology and ballistics.) When the first novel was published in 1887, however, Scotland Yard was using forensic science for 60 years (chemistry in 1832, bullet comparison in 1835.) Perhaps this inspired the phrase “No shit, Sherlock.”

Kate should’ve applied the BBC’s 1960s archive policy to Clara’s memory again, and calmly lead the UNIT geeks into finding the Doctor.

I hope they show how Missy survived “Death in Heaven” in next week’s conclusion. “Not dead, back, big surprise, never mind” is just damn lazy. Worse, it took me out of the story. Even a lame, hacked-out super villain escape story is better than none.

On the positive, this might be the best exploration of the Doctor/Master relationship since the unproduced The Final Game. Missy’s definition of friendship vague, evades her love of bloodshed, but hints at just enough to be intriguing. Clara’s “I’m the tin dog” moment was delightful.

You Said You Wanted an Axe Fight

Guilt of creating Davros throws the Doctor into a downward spiral, much like Tony Stark in Iron Man 2. His emotional “party like it’s 1999” breakdown is jarring to watch, almost like a reality show. (Bors could have been played by Gary Busey.) In this context, especially with the “all of me” line, Capaldi’s electric guitar is a logical connection to Troughton’s flute.

Why are there no consequences for bringing 21st century technology and slang to the 12th century? Are the Reapers too busy chasing The Monk?

A Thousand Years of Fighting

The Doctor’s explanation of the Daleks is more compelling and human than past serials. Using footage from Genesis of the Daleks was a stroke of genius. Michelle Gomez’ Missy is a lot like Tom Baker’s Doctor: they both speak in riddles, have to prove their intelligence every moment, and delightfully infuriate the people they’re trying to help. Davros’ “Do you know why you came, Doctor” is reminiscent of the manipulative Oracle’s “…you’ve already made the choice. Now you have to understand it.”

Stray Thoughts

Yes, I ran out of time. Shut up.

Why would any modern action hero use the term “archenemy”?
Picking up from “Last Christmas,” someone calls the Doctor a magician.
The Skaro reveal is cool, complete with the “Stolen Earth” soundtrack.
The red/gold Dalek looks like Iron Man.
The Doctor panics over Clara…why? Why would he beg Davros to save Clara’s life? This seems like a repeat of “Stolen Earth.”
Missy’s sales pitch to the Daleks is consistent with the classic Who Master.
Why would the Daleks bring the TARDIS to Skaro to destroy it…why not destroy it on Earth in 1138?
Does every show runner get to create a dismissible black boyfriend?

Essay

The Magician’s Apprentice

If you’re expecting consistent sequential logic, you’ll not find it in this premier episode of Series 9, which feels like a series of vignettes bridged together by “huh?” moments. In the world of Doctor Who this is not necessarily a bad thing. Based on the medieval nature of the prologue that was released, one may have thought we were in for a Lord of the Rings romp, but instead we find ourselves on a bleak planet, standing on hand mines, and faced with a confused, young boy. The Doctor tosses his sonic screwdriver to the boy for assistance. The hand mines are a cool effect and the eye in the center of the palm makes them all the more eerie; however, it is convenient that they show themselves to the boy and that the area surrounding the Tardis appears to be free of them. When the boy’s name is revealed as Davros (who would later create the Daleks), the Doctor is shocked and offers no further assistance. But neither does he kill Davros — yet. Evil at one time has its innocence, and this scenario revives the question of whether or not the Doctor is a good man. We’ve a pretty good idea where we may eventually arrive, but at this point we jump into what appears to be a mash-up of Who, Potter, and Star Wars when a cloaked individual looking very much like Voldemort enters a Cantina-type bar ala Tatooine looking for the Doctor. I begin to wonder if Moffat finally got J. K. Rowling involved in the writing. She has been “almost” involved before. Or is Moffat simply enamored with Potter villains and chose to pattern this character after the sinister Lord?

I’m still chewing on the similarities when we jump to the Shadow Proclamation and then to Karn, where the search for the elusive Doctor continues. On Karn the floating Voldemort-like figure reveals that a dying Davros is summoning the Doctor. The message links us back to the opening scene, implying that Davros remembers being abandoned. The Doctor, we find, is being harbored by those on Karn.

Another jump and we’re at the Coal Hill School. After throwing her students into panic, Clara whisks from the classroom in response to a call from UNIT. She takes on a persona that demands attention. If this was unsettling to anyone else, you weren’t alone. With the Doctor unavailable, Clara, who was called to UNIT by Kate Lethbridge-Stewart because airplanes have been frozen in flight, wields a power that does not seem to fit even the Impossible Girl. And, seriously, UNIT asks if they should send a helicopter? When Toni Basil got a nod in the Series 8 episode “Death in Heaven” with a parody of the song, “Mickey,” it was a cute addition that fit Michelle Gomez’s portrayal of Missy as The Master. But when the lyrics of the parody scrolled across a computer screen at UNIT in this series premiere, it brought a groan from this reviewer. Is someone picking up a few royalties?

Missy is behind the mysterious hold on the airplanes, but her tampering with them has little to do with the storyline. It serves as nothing more than garnering attention and she quickly drops her hold at Clara’s request to prove that she cares about the Doctor’s whereabouts. The world, it seems, is not really in dire danger. But is the Doctor? In an open plaza, Missy shares what apparently contains his last will and testament. Together she and Clara track down the Doctor and Missy teleports them to his location. The relationship between the Doctor and the Master has always been intriguing, but Missy’s connection to the Doctor in this episode shows a complexity that Clara does not understand. It is likely that most viewers are left with another “huh” moment as well.

I am still wondering at the title of the episode and the question is not yet answered by the Doctor being introduced as the magician. He enters an arena (Is this to be a Thunderdome?) on top of a tank playing an electric guitar. Where did the guitar come from and for what purpose is it being used? Where did the tank come from? This scene does, however, provide levity to what may be a dire situation. After recognizing Clara and Missy, the Doctor behaves uncharacteristically by hugging Clara and making an allusion to Series 8 with the statement that hugging is a good way to hide your face. Missy does not find his behavior unconventional. The Doctor then pulls a snake from a man and the Voldemort character re-appears revealing another Potter-like allusion – snakes ala Basilisk? We bridge back to the opening again when the Doctor is faced with the memory of abandoning an innocent Davros. When the Tardis is secured, we are left wondering if the Doctor’s entire three-week party was a set-up from the get-go.

Eventually we find the Doctor meeting up with Davros, who is frail and dying as we have been told. He approves of the Doctor’s new regeneration. Meanwhile, Missy uses the word “gravity” as a clue from the Doctor to explore beyond the doors of what they believe is a spaceship. After a gratuitous nod toward the possibility of causing Clara’s demise (Nope, Moffat, I wasn’t fooled into believing that), Missy carefully walks out of the ship to find a planet hidden by invisibility — and not just any planet, but Skaro, a rebuilt Skaro. I’m not surprised by this, but as the planet’s invisibility wears off and the Doctor sees Skaro through a window, he apparently is surprised. Where else would Davros bring him? A flashback to previous regenerations and, specifically to the 4th Doctor, conjures other Dalek dilemmas, a wonderful touch for those who are Classic Who aficionados.

The cliffhanger leaves us with two apparent casualties – both Missy and Clara downed by Daleks — and a destroyed Tardis. “Davros made the Daleks, but who made Davros?” asked the Doctor. Indeed.

It’s the series opener, highly unlikely that Missy and Clara’s death and the destruction of the Tardis is final. Despite questions and little annoyances, “The Magician’s Apprentice” opens Series 9 with some fine cinematography and sets the stage for the rest of the series, while utilizing several allusions to Series 8 as tie-in for the relationships between the Doctor and Clara and the Doctor and Missy. There are some fabulous and funny lines from each character and each has their chance to bring value to the episode. As for the complexity of the Doctor’s relationship with Missy, perhaps they really are two aspects of the same. Where there is light there will also always be dark.

Help me out in the comments by sharing your view on the title – why “The Magician’s Apprentice?” It has to go deeper than disappearing coin tricks.

Tags season 9