Monthly Archives: November 2015
Doctor Who just undertook one of its sudden, jarring lurches into resolving a series arc that many won’t have realised was there, and undertook it as an almost one-hander single play placed between two episodes that perhaps didn’t strictly need it, an interior dialogue which shows off Peter Capaldi as a humane, incisive performer as no previous Doctor Who story has done. It takes diamond to cut diamond. This Doctor, seemingly so callous and indifferent for most of his first year, is of course by no means immune to despair and while it’s an invidious and even meaningless comparison, I can’t imagine Matt Smith handling the moment where the Doctor realises that he’s just one in a series of reconstituted Doctors who will make his imperceptible mark on the wall in room 12 in quite as affecting a way as Capaldi.
The evidence that this was a prison tailored for the Doctor was evident almost from the start, though it took me as long as the Doctor to realise what the skulls actually were and why the stars weren’t where the Doctor thought they should be. The postponement of the solution to the puzzle was often frustrating, perhaps because even with the CGI castle it was difficult to get a sense of scale… and I did wonder why the Doctor didn’t try attacking the Veil with the spade, though perhaps that would have opened up too many avenues of horror even for a Doctor Who which hovers on the watershed. The threat from the Veil was left undefined and it was right to leave it uncertain until the Doctor was at the diamond wall that its touch was lethal – after so much emphasis on theatre, on making the Doctor feel afraid, it was horrific that it did deal out death after all, just allowing the Doctor enough time to return in agonised defeat to the first square of the game with no conscious advantage.
Murray Gold is unfairly maligned as a composer; his score was suitably eclectic for this story, reminding me of the use of Beethoven’s 7th Symphony in John Boorman’s film Zardoz and its intimations of mortality. I see from other reviews the episode made nods to the subject matter of recent films and games. The idea of a cycle of life repeating itself until it can be broken out from is an old one, though, the matter of religious truth before it was the stuff of fiction. Doctor Who commentator J.R. Southall has observed that where Russell T Davies used the trappings of religious faith, Steven Moffat draws on the substance. Here at least Moffat draws on Dantean notions of hell with the Doctor needing to move from circle to circle to receive his prize; in contrast to Sartre, Hell isn’t the presence of other people but of missing one in particular.
There were a few visual references to earlier episodes. At one point the Veil loomed over the Doctor much as the Fisher King had in Before the Flood. The watery setting was also a reminder of that story. The castle gallery recalled something of the interiors seen in The Woman Who Lived. The Veil turns out to have clockwork elements, looking back to Deep Breath and Steven Moffat’s first journey upon the Slow Road, The Girl in the Fireplace. The clockwork castle itself expanded upon the motif seen in Ashildr’s house in Face the Raven and through the current title sequence to The Invasion of Time. Where other older Doctor Who stories are concerned, the Doctor Who SFX account on Twitter has noticed the visual parallels with Warrior’s Gate and its monochrome stills of Powis Castle; but the revelation that the Doctor’s prison is within his own confession dial, a miniaturised self-renewing environment, reminded me of Carnival of Monsters – a more avowedly grim realisation of Vorg’s already obscene miniscope. This is a story to which the Doctor Who industry has returned to in the arena show Doctor Who: The Monsters Are Coming! in 2010, so Steven Moffat has form.
This episode was also definitely part of the Moffat oeuvre: journeys billions of years in the making, management of one’s own thoughts so intense that one can be cut off from time, the classroom and its attributes as both revealing of the self and as the home of narrative; intangible childhood traumas brought into the material world; and deaths which though deaths shall have no dominion. Finally, a reappropriation of dialogue from his own earlier episodes and a suggestion that nineteen years on the TV Movie will be vindicated – is the Doctor half-human on his mother’s side after all, or is Ashildr the promised hybrid? Or both of them?
Heaven Sent achieved its ends. The languidity was part of the experience – the boredom and frustration of what seems like eternity, but which is just a very, very long time. Even the terror of the Veil becomes a tedium to manage; it’s what makes its final purpose so horrific. It’s an exercise in watching the Doctor’s self-discipline and his resourcefulness with almost no tools and no allies to hand except his own knowledge and intellect. The control which Capaldi gives the Doctor as he steps out onto the soil of Gallifrey is memorable for many reasons; it’s a powerful counterpoint to the audience’s own relief. Escape, the Doctor knows, is not possible without changing fabric and structure, and he sets off it seems to do just that.
Face the Raven had become over the last few weeks perhaps the most anticipated story of the season. A step-change in publicity had suggested that we were going to see an apparently freestanding episode cleverly turn itself into a crucial transition point for the series. A mystery of the week tale became a grand narrative of power and trust.
Face the Raven had faults, but its faults were overwhelmingly those of the season as a whole and not peculiar to the episode. The build-up to Clara’s death tends to have been through symbols told outside the narrative – the Abbey Road photoshoot, for example – rather than through storytelling itself. There hasn’t been enough consistent development for Clara’s recklessness nor her implied death wish. Her erratic and unstable regard for the Doctor oscillates between concern and respect and a determination to show her independence, whether by not returning his calls or by hatching plans of which she knows he would disapprove and which place both of them in danger. The series has been uncertain about how far it should present its lead characters as unlikeable. I winced at first at the device of having the Doctor and Clara enter from the end of an adventure perhaps more exciting than the one we saw last week (I’ve never felt so isolated among fellow Doctor Who devotees than I have been as a defender of Sleep No More, even as a fan of Love & Monsters) and at the return of the Doctor’s emotional response cards (I didn’t enjoy this conceit when it first appeared in Under the Lake, though there are many with whom it resonates strongly). A Doctor who is further removed from human existence than any we have seen before and a companion intent on following him are not easy people to spend time with. I don’t especially enjoy a Doctor engaged by a baby but unable to refer to it as anything but ‘the new human’, as if babyhood is a concept from which he has to protect himself. Likewise, by itself Clara’s joy at being suspended over London isn’t endearing, and we’ve not quite seen enough of Clara’s character development to justify it.
Yet my mistake here might be to regard Clara as the audience’s touchstone. It’s a role Clara herself has rejected, as if she could reach out from the fiction and deny writers and performer the chance to present her as an approachable identification figure, and that’s a mark of how well she has been drawn over the past few years. Nevertheless, throughout this episode there’s a doubt that developments regarding Clara, Ashildr and the Doctor’s arc have been adequately served by preceding episodes. For example, the confession dial is produced eight episodes after it was last a plot point. Additionally, the grafting in of Rigsy is an appropriate and creative reuse of the character, but his reintroduction doesn’t quite fit with where the character was left – and particularly left by Clara – towards the end of Flatline. It’s not the first time in twenty-first century Doctor Who that a viewer might be left with the sense that a twenty-two episode storyline has been forced into a much shorter structure, with resulting narrative loss and disjuncture.
There was much, much else to like about Face the Raven, however. Doctor Who has been a regular visitor to the present day since its return but this was the first episode for some years which displayed the sort of broad contemporary cultural literacy which was usual in Russell T Davies’s day. Internet folklore and urban anomie drawn on by Neil Gaiman and J.K. Rowling among others joined to comment upon the experience of moving to a city both futuristic and ancient at once whose geography is difficult to explain in the modern commercial language of urban development. The self-governing refugee camp, inventing its own rules and culture while it is hidden in plain sight by itself and the authorities of its host society, is a long-established political reality in many parts of the world. The ‘Trap Street’ in execution was perhaps too much like the prestigious buildings of the inns of court on one of the kinds of hidden street which does surprise when one comes across it in London, but the co-option of the architectural imagery we see is familiar shorthand for the deliberately hidden; Diagon Alley, as practically everyone recognises, transported to the needs of Doctor Who’s Cardiff-London, and maintaining Doctor Who’s connection with the symbols of modern folklore. The contrast was also necessary with Doctor Who’s continued use of the tower block as everyday residence, a 2005 co-option of the topology of the 1960s welfare state which gave birth to Doctor Who, and with the brief glimpse of Rigsy’s life a welcome nod here to social realism.
I really wish the locations could have been in London rather than Cardiff. The failure of the cityscape over which Clara dangles to match that which she, Rigsy and the Doctor explore on foot is noticeable in the absence of tall buildings especially; the ‘Great British Library’ another of those institutions which don’t exist in the real world when an amount of verisimilitude would have complemented the storytelling. Compromises are the product of necessity. It was something of a relief to enter the enclosed world of the Trap Street itself, controlled by lighting and grading and the studio.
Sarah Dollard’s writing ably sketched in a sense of fragile urban community. Her frightened, embittered, generous, loving aliens had a reality about them which a lesser hand could not have delivered. There were questions in the execution of the street which I didn’t think were resolved – if the lurkworms’ telepathic field made people see what they expected to see, did everyone in the street see each other as human, for example? This wasn’t made clear, but if so it can be justified as a rough peacekeeping measure. The logic behind the use of the quantum shade was more transparent, and was presumably based on Ashildr’s authority as mayor; she can provide the raven with a series of souls, where those who pass the chronolock on only have power over one person, and the final recipient – Clara in this case – is powerless because by agreement they have renounced authority. Dramatically, it’s brutally contractual but is a believable arrangement for the fractious society over which Ashildr rules.
A lot of the enjoyment in Face the Raven emerges from the performances. One wouldn’t know from the dialogue how pleased at first the Doctor is to see Ashildr again, but there’s warmth on Peter Capaldi’s face despite the gravity of the situation and Ashildr’s part in it. It’s necessary to re-establish Ashildr as a protegee with similarities to the Doctor – she asserts that she has adopted ‘Mayor’ as a title to live up to, as she understands the Doctor uses his – but there’s a coldness to Maisie Williams’s performance which confirms that this is someone more concerned about self-control than the Doctor, whose progress along ‘the slow road’ leaves her in a weak position, who has things to hide. As for the Doctor’s other protegee, Clara, she has a lot to hide too, even from herself; it’s Clara as much as Jenna who deploys Sarah Michelle Gellar-like shrugs to triangulate herself between the Doctor and Ashildr, needlessly asserting independence and instead seeming petulant and revealing her desperation.
The last several minutes of the story are dedicated to Clara’s death. The emphasis is on the present rather than the past, as it needs to be; there’s no catalogue of past incidents, just the first mention of Danny Pink by name this series, and several reminders of the legacy of the Time War. This has definitely been a season commissioned in the wake of the fiftieth anniversary, much as season 22 was of the twentieth, and while the references to the Doctor having been a warrior and indeed to the Doctor no longer being present are borne a little too heavily, they are preferable to the unco-ordinated calls to the past which littered the 1985 series. These serve a character point; the reason the Doctor is as angry and unapproachable as he often seems to be is that he has been painfully reminded of the warrior he can be. If the eleventh Doctor was the man who forgets, the twelfth Doctor is the whole man, the man who remembers. There’s a moment where Capaldi’s blink is synchronised with the sound of the beat of the raven’s wings, as the message that death can’t be cheated altogether is sinking in and with it the inevitability of Clara’s fate. The Doctor is a raven of a sort too.
The revelations surrounding Clara’s death are played out on the best-designed set in the episode. There are echoes of Ashildr’s Viking origins in the beams and the wood-carving, juxtaposed with the metallic puzzle-box which steals the Doctor’s key and binds the teleport bracelet to him, and the Metropolis-like art deco associations of the stasis capsule. Behind the capsule are panels reminiscent of the 2013 and 2014 versions of the TARDIS interior, and where the cross-beams in the Viking set might have been decorated with serpent heads here there are cogs and wheels reminiscent of the current title sequence and more remotely of the design of the Doctor’s presidential rooms in The Invasion of Time. Everything, the set seems to be saying, leads here; and it suggests that an old use of the third person plural in the series might be in play here.
The decision to play Clara’s death effectively as a silent film with a soundtrack was surely the right one. I don’t doubt Jenna Coleman’s ability to provide a piercing, rattling death-scream, but the way Clara’s acceptance of her fate and request of the powers that shape Doctor Who to ‘Let me be brave’ is followed by haunting Puccini-esque music and a very deliberate, attention-grabbing selection of images told a more layered story. The glimpse of Rump hearing Clara’s scream and realising what his explanation of the chronolock and the death sentence had led to, and the decision (or so it seems to me) for the actual moment of Clara’s death to take place off-camera, with Jenna’s eye-movements before the exhalation of the quantum shade suggesting consciousness, and during not, was brutal; we can follow the Doctor in his journey to wherever the teleport bracelet – time ring? – takes him, but not Clara. We leave her just before she leaves us.
Face the Raven is an inspiring Doctor Who debut for Sarah Dollard, whose understanding of character shines through. She finds and develops new purpose for Rigsy, who has much more to live for now than he did in Flatline but whose tag scene (so to speak) shows that he remains true, to borrow a phrase, to all his beliefs. As outlined above, there’s an agitational contemporaneity in the episode of which Sydney Newman might have been proud, though he’d probably have demanded more. The script deals with the emotional maturing of Clara Oswald well and it’s a pity its subject has been patchily served by those episodes which went before it. There isn’t always a point in every Doctor-companion relationship where they stop running – the Doctor/Rose relationship is built around the denial of an end point, even after Rose leaves the main narrative – but this was a more satisfying conclusion than many. Anything else has to be a coda to the main story. The Doctor is left by Clara with more self-knowledge and the strength to acknowledge this. Ashildr, meanwhile, is struggling with her inadequacies; like Clara, she has overreached herself but lacks as yet the courage to admit her mistakes. Face the Raven ends with a sense that characters have progressed several places which Doctor Who doesn’t get to convey as much as it perhaps should; it’s for this as much as its clear depiction of place and thematic convictions that I’ll remember Face the Raven.
I’m somewhat Whoed out after an enjoyable day at the Doctor Who Festival at ExCeL in east London, but still imagine the pressure to produce an early review, so offer that I was very impressed by Sleep No More. The performances of many of the guest cast were uneven and difficult to believe in, I found; but this is Peter Capaldi and Jenna Coleman’s show and it remained so, Capaldi channelling his actor’s professional intensity into the Doctor’s driven, directed curiosity and his concern for human good even when humanity has forgotten what that good is. Given Capaldi’s past statements might be read as suggesting his reservations about the commercialisation of Doctor Who, it’s not surprising to see him convey so well the Doctor’s digust at a human society where productivity, competition and profit have entirely overtaken the common good. Mark Gatiss has been an outspoken critic of attacks on the BBC and it’s not surprising to see him take on the cult of the financial transaction as the index of human relationships here; perhaps, without soiidarity and without the acknowledgement that we need time to distinguish our essential selves from our careers, our greed and desire for advantage, we might as well be no more than dead cells and mucus.
The realisation left a little to be desired; the sets were as stark and functional as one would expect, and the Morpheus pods a little more bright and exotic, as if representing a process which is sold to people with dancing and singing and sentiment dating from America in the 1950s, remembered (however selectively) as an age of optimism and prosperity. However, as has been the case for much of this season and the one before, lighting and grading conspired to lend a general greyness to proceedings when one needed the contrast between dark and what light there was.
I’d seen a Sandman emerge from behind the sofa shared by Mark Gatiss and Kate Walshe of Millennium FX on the Festival stage earlier; it was alarming then, and their appearances here were photographed to effect. Like the Silence, they draw on Munch’s Scream, but represent a further iteration of Hell on Earth; our fears, suppressed, now take life from our cast-offs and in this new form digest us. I had suspected the twist regarding Rasmussen would occur in some form and part of the tension came from wondering when he would take on sandy form.
I’m not familiar with the evolution of the found footage genre in cinema since the days of The Blair Witch Project, which is now an alarming distance away; no doubt if I was I’d have had slightly different expectations of this episode. The story, we assume for the future of humanity, continues successfully on Triton; the Doctor, Clara and Nagata persuade or subvert the authorities and destroy the Morpheus machines and remove or overwrite the signal which triggers the Sandman-creating process. Nevertheless the horror is supernatural and potentially able to replicate itself; and according to this interview with Mark Gatiss at Blogtor Who, the Doctor has lost this round and there will be a rematch. The disintegration of Rasmussen will surely linger in children’s memories.
Lastly it was good to see Jenna Coleman playing Clara for an entire episode and not being overwritten or marginalised; while her curiosity compromised her – though the incorporation of an assertive and inquisitive companion into a ‘system’ reminded me of Sarah Jane Smith’s cryogenic preservation in The Ark in Space – she took charge and in two symbolic instances, naming the Sandmen and in opening the TARDIS door (and there was, I note, presumably sand in the keyhole with time-travelling aspirations) asserted her right to be considered a magician herself, not just the apprentice. Festival-goers were warned by Steven Moffat that what is coming for Clara is tragic and life-ruining. As we enter the gateway to the finale, tonight’s heroic dash to the TARDIS might be a last hurrah.
We didn’t need the Z-67, then. (‘Zee’ sixty-seven. Another small sign that this is an international series for a global market.) It was all long gone. The threat, or the temptation, of destruction was enough. The Zygons were never going to be turned inside out at a physical level, but they and human beings have to have their perceptions inverted again and again and again. The solution to the Zygon rising isn’t a happy one. People from both human and Zygon species are killed. It’s difficult to see Bonnie’s instruction to stand down having the effect on her fellow Zygon rebels which the script seems at first glance to suggest. I’d initially thought that the reference to this being the sixteenth time the Doctor has gone through the Osgood box version of Deal or No Deal was that there had been fifteen previous separate Zygon risings, but Andrew Ellard on Twitter has pointed out that this is the more problematic interpretation and the idea that this is the sixteenth version involving these participants makes more sense. Until reading this I’d thought that the point was that the ceasefire has broken down before and will break down again. It’s a striking, perhaps worrying, utilitarian line for Doctor Who to take: the Doctor will keep coming back to minimise the number of deaths and damage to self-knowledge in the hope of saving as many as possible; but changing the mind of just one, in the right place, might be enough, or the most that can be hoped for. It’s a compromise and compromises are messy; but there is a future visible where the difference between human and Zygon is no longer of importance, something perhaps difficult even for the Doctor to grasp. Assimilation is mutual and subtle even if the Zygons have been smuggled in and disguised by an organisation operating beyond the state and outside democratic control.
Social media, with the exception of a few people with reservations and perhaps deliberate contrarians, emerged from their pods in force to cheer The Zygon Inversion. Peter Capaldi’s speech in particular was loved. This was a little overlong, but was still a bravura delivery of a clever relation of the Zygon peace to the Time War (of which the Zygons, lest we forget, were victims), the bleak efficacy of mutually assured destruction scenarios, and a reminder of the place which Clara Oswald has in the Doctor’s cosmology. I don’t know how Capaldi’s drawing quite specifically on Hughie Green’s delivery and catchphrase when in his game show host persona played with those who don’t remember Green; did it work as generically as presumably hoped?
This wasn’t entirely brilliant. I found some of the journey of the Doctor and Osgood a little flat; the Union Jack parachute was an odd touch, a sideswipe at an outdated model of James Bond, perhaps, a sign that someone somewhere has anxieties about the Doctor’s mode of heroism, or perhaps to underline how awkward this ‘president of Earth’ nonsense sits with the Doctor’s traditionally less bombastic way of doing business. Who, I wondered, was flying the UNIT plane, and did they escape? They had time…[EDIT – looking at the Doctor-Osgood exchanges again, she does some nice deconstruction and remembered analysis of the Doctor’s behaviour and methodology – ‘You’re talking nonsense to distract me from being really scared’ – and is ahead of him at times because she’s got the emotional distance and focus to help him along. She’s too accomplished and too much of the fan-scholar to be a long-term companion, though, and this story gives her a firm and distinguished place in the series’ mythology.]
Amidst the failure, for me, of the Doctor-Osgood conversation to spark – despite the Doctor’s becoming, during it, a smiling figure more at peace with his existence – was the grisly and emotionally pained depiction of the Zygon forced to ‘normalise’ and go into hiding, unable to fully maintain a human shape, in the grocer’s. The make-up on Nicholas Asbury as Etoine was suggestive of a plague victim, with swollen glands and sores, as well as a reminder of the imagery of ulceration and bodies turned inside out, of overgrown malformed embryos, upon which the Zygon design draws. Both suggest the ambiguity of human beings’ (or at least western, Atlantic Anglophone culture’s) tendency to look for the unlike and unfamiliar, grouping difference with disease; Etoine’s suicide, arising from mistrust of the Doctor and Osgood but also a rejection of what Bonnie insisted he must become, was overwhelmingly sad but also helped turn around an episode which I wasn’t greatly committed to until then.
This two-parter has again sidelined the complicated Clara as a character while maintaining her as a symbol. Portraying the dual Clara/Bonnie felt a little like a graduation piece for Jenna Coleman, but it can be said that she passed. Clara’s dreamscape might have seemed like an old Steven Moffat trope, but it was used to illustrate how interwoven Zygon and human were and emphasise Clara’s strength of character beyond the ‘control freak’ label bandied about with freedom by Missy. Bonnie as angry adolescent motivated by an ideal of a society which would emerge from victory without any clear idea of the process by which that ideal would be built and maintained is a topical figure, recognisable to anyone who has seen a Boko Haram video. Taking Clara’s form and her memories, it’s stated, compromises her from the beginning, but also suggests that the Zygons are not otherable, but are part of us. Like Clara, she’s controlling and manipulative, but far more ruthless and far less able to see the consequences of her actions. There has been some concern expressed that Bonnie was able to escape with her crimes unpunished; but the point was surely that she is a transformed person, without and within. Kate leaves with her memory wiped because she still pressed the button [EDIT: No, she didn’t! Why did I think that?] (and Doctor Who needs her to go forward with science in her brain and gun in her hand – five rounds rapid, again). Bonnie does not because she understands and carries the burden of her crimes. Becoming a new Osgood is an extreme form of self-sentenced community service.
At the end of the day, though, it’s Capaldi’s confident handling of the Doctor as teacher-hero which lingers in the memory. He’s been around two thousand years but he’s not a messiah, just someone managing his own messiah complex by doing the best he can, and not blind to the unpleasantness which transpires along the way as a result. He can’t condemn Kate as she kills her way through the Zygons in self-defence; and she knows it. While I found the ‘Doctor Disco’ business tiresome, that’s a response the episode expects; this isn’t so much a man in mid-life crisis as a man suffering from second regeneration cycle or unexpected fourteenth life trauma, and sublimating his concern about his place in events.
[EDIT: One further note is that the Doctor is making a habit of making people like himself. Clara has been portrayed as a second Doctor with her own adventures and companions. Ashildr/Me is someone he changes into an immortal and then groups with him as ‘people like us’. Now Bonnie is praised for thinking ‘like me’. Messiah and very naughty boy at once, the Doctor recruits through words and touch, but his truth is not in charge of the consequences.]
Random thoughts rather than anything structured:
There’s a theme emerging from the middle part of this season: the eclipse of Clara Oswald. Jenna Coleman has had some great scenes this year, and when I first wrote here that Clara had been sidelined it absolutely wasn’t true. Perhaps it’s that Clara is no longer an ingénue, but an experienced time traveller who gains her own companions but who more often than not ‘runs’ plotlines not directly associated with the Doctor. Consequently she felt set aside from the main action for Before the Flood, was overshadowed for some of The Girl Who Died once she’d helped establish Ashildr, and was almost entirely absent from The Woman Who Lived. Both Clara and Jenna Coleman remain central to this series, but in The Zygon Invasion Clara’s absence becomes a problem, first for the Doctor when Clara doesn’t pick up the phone, and then for the audience as they realise that the grammar of this episode, with its narrative jump cuts, has provided ample opportunity for Clara to be replaced by a Zygon. For most of the episode the character fulfilling Clara’s role, though slightly more clipped, more arrogant and with a disregard for life, behaves much as the viewers might expect the Doctor-like Clara seen emerging in Before the Flood and The Girl Who Died to behave Is the audience is meant to think that Clara’s life is growing away from the Doctor’s, earlier indications to the contrary?
The Zygon Invasion is an episode which shows off its roots. The pre-credits sequence at first seems calculated less to introduce viewers to concepts and characters they might not have known, and instead play with the form of the flashback and the expectations of viewers with strong memories of The Day of the Doctor. While it might make fans of a certain vintage who consider themselves media-savvy wince, given that story’s popularity and reception it seems a reasonable gamble to have taken. The Doctor is introduced playing ‘Amazing Grace’, another performance of which (with bagpipes) accompanies a scene of alien pods being unloaded in the 1978 version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It might also remind fans of Grace Holloway, the woman who brought to an end the life of the seventh Doctor but was nevertheless saved by the eighth; perhaps there will be story elements here which will make the Doctor wish he could turn back time. While it’s probably just a case of enjoying a good relationship with the Ministry of Defence and knowing that a flexible location is available, the use of Sennybridge Training Area for the Zygon-occupied village in Turmezistan, with its reminder of the town of Christmas and the Doctor’s regeneration into his present form might be point towards the Doctor’s own identity crisis (as the eponym of hybrid forms – ‘Doctor Disco’ and ‘Doctor Funkenstein’) and the greater ones both exhibited and suffered by the Zygons. The blonde junior school girls who turn out to be the Zygon high command have something of the Midwich Cuckoos about them too.
The awkwardness of ‘Turmezistan’ reminds me that while the episode was entertaining and polished it was built upon rough allegorizing. Perhaps to achieve anything in a time of shrill confrontationalism and entrenched positions, a politics of which group might be sacrificed for the interest of the many, taking familiar phrases from news coverage of contemporary conflicts and placing them in the context of Doctor-versus-monsters. The Zygon Invasion picks up one of the challenges left by The Woman Who Lived; what happens to the situations from which the Doctor runs away. Here, the Doctor is visibly trying to stop one of his earlier fixes unravelling. We are placed as close as we can be to the Doctor attempting to sort out a real world issue, but the parallels can’t be exact. Nevertheless, painting the Zygons as the ‘Brits’ who occupy a town in New Mexico, or (though not specifically identified as British) in Turmezistan, offers a multitude of comparisons, both with the British state and its antagonists as well as non-combatants, and more thought, for good or ill, seems to have gone into this aspect of the script than the weapons of mass destruction jokes thrown into Aliens of London by Russell T Davies at his most auteurish.
There’s perhaps a cynicism underlying current Doctor Who, too, or at least a lack of the starry-eyed idealism of golden ages which I disliked ten years ago. Long-term viewers with encyclopedic knowledge of the series must be expected to think that the UNIT scientist who developed a biological weapon to use against the Zygons at Porton Down was Harry Sullivan. While fans have understandably been outraged at the idea that one of the Doctor’s companions could enable genocide, it’s not as if the Doctor has entirely avoided this himself (the Master’s observation at the Doctor’s elimination of the Sea Devils in the novelisation of The Sea Devils points this out) and allowing Harry both to do his job and potentially feel a need for revenge on the Zygons who kidnapped him and stole his form in order to harm his friends is an acceptable character development. We can’t exclude the possibility that he turned himself and his invention in to the Doctor, either…
The Zygon Invasion kept its pace going and maintained tension, largely by implanting theatre within theatre. Bonnie’s luring of Jac with what turned out to be a similar but elaborated strategy to that which she had used earlier to ensnare Clara, and the question of whether the police officer in Truth or Consequences or Kate would turn out to be the Zygon – for drama demanded that one of them had to be – spread seeds of doubt and expectations (not met, yet at least) of double bluff. My main regret at the realisation is that the story can’t quite be told on the scale it demands – almost everywhere is deserted, though the great set piece Zygon underground base saw a suitably large number of Zygons face a mob of UNIT troops, though we didn’t see them actually fight. The largely off-screen Zygon transformation scenes also drew attention to the care with which the effects budget now has to be spent. I have, at least, no clue as to how the Doctor will escape what seems to be certain death, unless he, Osgood and their blood-orange chum (and sorry, script, Zygons aren’t to my mind ‘blobby’ as ‘suckery’, and compared to their 1975 predecessors there aren’t quite enough suckers or ulcers or whatever the technical term is on their bodies) are actually on another plane altogether. I’m not greatly keen on this president-of-the-world stuff, even if its repetition probably means it is going somewhere within the twelfth Doctor’s arc. So, I like this episode but with reservations!