This three-episode story
is almost too beautiful, and too sad, to write about. I love how each
season works its way towards a multi-episode climax, as if the
writers and actors are saving up their energy and their ingenuity to
make sure they end well. Each ending-story is kind of a summary of
all the themes that have preceded in that season, as well as the
emotional high point of the season
Similarly,
this three-episode story summarizes all the themes I've been blogging
about in this series, and raises the theological and emotional stakes
of all those experiences
The
Shape of the Story
I
wrote about how all stories follow a narrative
arc, and that the size of each part of that arc changes
with the length of the story (number of pages or minutes). Each of
these three episodes has its own shape, and then the three-episode
story has a larger shape of its own. “Utopia” and “The Sound of
Drums” each follows only an upward trajectory: those each end on a
“cliff-hanger,” a crisis, without a following resolution. This
means that the overall story goes up and up and up, with three peaks,
three moments of crisis, and only one resolution. There are
mini-crises, too, when the character or the audience think a disaster
is impending, or when a disaster actually happens. So the
three-episode story form is an excellent shape to use for ramping up
tension. Within the story, it corresponds to just how awful things
are: the very family Martha loves has betrayed her, then been
captured and endangered in turn; the one person who promised to take
care of the human race has betrayed them; and the one person who
could be a real friend and companion to the Doctor has betrayed him.
Each horror is big enough that it deserves, and receives, its own
narrative high point.
But
then the length of the three episodes allows for a good resolution,
too. All that tension needs to be diffused, and it is, in the
glorious, magical, Peter-Pan-style ending.
I
Am You
I
wrote about the tradition in comic books,
superhero stories, and epics, for the
antagonist and protagonist to be paired in an equal-but-opposite
relationship:
the bad guy is a foil for the good guy.
Sometimes this is expressed in the chemistry between the two, which
gives the feeling that if they weren't enemies, they'd be best
friends. Sometimes each is delighted to find a worthy enemy.
Sometimes their hatred runs deeper than any fellow-feeling and each
is the exact polar opposite of the other. Some versions of this
paring may be found in:
Batman
vs. the Joker
Luke
Skywalker vs. Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker
David
Dunn vs. Mr. Glass in Unbreakable
Indiana
Jones vs. Rene Belloq
Kirk/Spock
vs. Khan
Harry
Potter vs. Voldemort/Tom Riddle
Eragon
vs. Murtagh in the Inheritance Cycle
Cockatrice
vs. Chauntecleer in The
Book Of The Dun Cow
Picard
vs. Shinzon in Star
Trek Nemesis
Gandalf
vs. Saruman (or more generally, the Wise vs. Sauron, Morgoth, and
Ungoliant)
Ransom
vs. Weston in Perelandra
Sherlock
vs. Moriarty
This
theme is very strongly developed in the “Last of the Time Lords”
story, because the Doctor has finally found an equal. The Master is
just like him: a Time Lord from Gallifry, a time-and-space traveler
who can regenerate, a brilliant scientist and engineer who can fly
the TARDIS, someone who shares his past and his memories and
experiences: someone who should be his best friend. If they joined
together, they could multiple exponentially the good that the Doctor
does alone.
And
there is the final temptation scene that almost always happens in
these kinds of stories: “Turn to the Dark Side, Luke!” – but it
is in reverse. The Doctor begs the Master to regenerate, to join him,
to turn to the side of Good and join him. He won't, and his loss is
as heartbreaking as the loss of a family member.
This
seems to be a biblical principle: there is no criminal so bad that I
do not resemble him. And there is no criminal so lost that I should
wish for his destruction rather than his redemption.
The
Doctor is Jesus
On
that note, I have written about literary
christology throughout Doctor Who.
I don't think I need to say much here; it's so obvious, and so well
developed, in this story. Two quotes stand out for me in relation to
this theme:
“I
didn't come here to kill him; I came here to save him”
and
“You
know what happens now....You wouldn't listen... Because you know what
I'm going to say....I forgive you.”
I
don't think any commentary is required!
It's
The Story that Saves
There's
another biblical parallel going on in “The Sound of Drums” and
“The Last of the Time Lords.” Martha leaves, and the viewer is
horrified: Where is she going? What is she doing? How can she leave
the Doctor and her family for a year? When she returns, she claims to
have been seeking out the components for the one gun that will kill
the Master. When I first heard that, I was kind of horrified, kind of
skeptical. The Doctor wouldn't ask her to do that, would he?
And of
course, he didn't. So what was she doing?
She was
telling a story. Just telling his story:
I travelled across the world. From the ruins of New York, to the fusion mills of China, right across the radiation pits of Europe. And everywhere I went I saw people just like you, living as slaves! But if Martha Jones became a legend then that's wrong, because my name isn't important. There's someone else. The man who sent me out there, the man who told me to walk the Earth. And his name is The Doctor. He has saved your lives so many times and you never even knew he was there. He never stops. He never stays. He never asks to be thanked. But I've seen him, I know him... I love him... And I know what he can do.
What a
wonderful way for that season to end.
Now, further up and further in!
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