“This is what I travel for, Rose, to see history happening
right in front of us.” I’m dubious about that statement. The Doctor just came
from ‘History’ but didn’t get any more than a tourist’s eye view. Before that
he had taken Rose to the end of the world but missed the big moment because he
was busy saving lives. I don’t doubt the absolute joy he experiences as the
alien spacecraft crashes into Big Ben; it’s just that for a time traveler who
has been at this for 900 years, the actual moments of standing back to watch as
history unfolds seem to be few and far between.
And this ‘history’ that he is witnessing in Aliens of London
is dubious in itself, as uncertain as the Doctor’s age. “Aliens are faking aliens,” as Dr. Sato says.
Or, “They’ve taken this animal and turned it into a joke,” as the Doctor says.
Like mermaids of old; faked history; history as a joke. That’s a bit of a
problem with Aliens of London. I’m as delighted as the Doctor in watching
events unfold, but I’m also hesitant in embracing it, much like the Doctor who
realizes all is not as it appears.
Even the TV reporter knows: “With respect, hardly the most
important person right now.”I find it highly unlikely that during a moment of
national crisis the Chairman of the Parliamentary Commission on the Monitoring
of Sugar Standards in Exported Confectionary is going to be trusted to take
command even if the Prime Minister is missing in action. Although the rest of
the Cabinet can’t make it into the city, in this day and age of computers, teleconferencing,
and cell phones, there are bound to be a host of candidates better qualified
and with more clout on hand to take charge from wherever they are stranded. Yet
no one, other than the commentator, thinks twice about Joseph Green and his
collection of equally low to mid level drones seizing authority.
I just don’t buy it. This is manufactured drama just as much
as the spaceship crash is manufactured history.
This is Doctor Who and I suppose we can make allowances for
sci-fi television; however this is Doctor Who for a new age and Doctor Who
trying to establish itself as grown-up and real. In this context Aliens of
London does not work. This is where some shoddy effects and rubber-suited
monsters would come in handy. Perhaps this is what accounts for the gaseous
Slitheen (and I don’t mean gaseous ala the Gelth). The over-the-top, giggling,
larger-than-life, irreverent aliens. This accounts for the “Excuse me, do you
mind not farting while I’m saving the world,” comment. This is Doctor Who, the
new Doctor Who, poking holes in its own pretense.
I’m not sure, though.
I’ll take a cue from Harriet Jones (one of my all-time
favorite Doctor Who characters): “I know we’ve had a brave new world land right
on our doorstep, and that’s wonderful. I think that’s probably wonderful.
Nevertheless, ordinary life keeps ticking away.” This New Who is a brave new
Who, and that is probably wonderful. Nevertheless, ordinary Doctor Who keeps ticking
away. Ordinary Who, the day in and day out, the week after week, year after
year, age after age, Doctor after Doctor; regardless of budget, regardless of
effects, regardless of posturing. I’ll trust in the long term and let the
present spectacle play out and enjoy, but with a grain of salt.
I do enjoy Aliens of London (in large part thanks to
Penelope Wilton’s Harriet Jones), but I have some nagging concerns with both
the Doctor and Rose. Mostly Rose, but I’ll start with the Doctor.
“I’m not interfering,” the Doctor tells Rose when he tires
of watching news on the telly and heads out for a seeming stroll, “because you’ve
got to handle this on your own. That’s when the human race finally grows up.
Just this morning you were all tiny and small and made of clay. Now you can
expand.” I take issue with this because firstly, he is of course going to
interfere; he has just told Rose this to keep her quiet and send her off and
out of the way while he goes to poke his nose into the ‘history’ in the making.
But secondly, and more importantly, I take issue with this because—how condescending
is that? “Finally grows up” indeed; “tiny and small” indeed. Just because the
human race hasn’t encountered aliens? Tiny and small?
But then the show has
always been rather condescending towards mankind and imagining all types of
alien beings (usually malevolent) who have to aid our ancestors in their intellectual
development. And the Doctor is a Time Lord, far superior in intellect and
experience, and to him I suppose we are tiny and small.
Arrogance has always been in the Doctor’s makeup and is
understandable in him. It is a different matter with Rose, however. I have
already noted Rose’s self-absorption from the inception of the new series. In Aliens
of London it is never more evident or more unappealing.
“I’ve seen all that stuff up there, the size of it, and I
can’t say a word,” Rose states, seemingly lamenting the fact that she has no
one to confide in. But then she continues, “Aliens and spaceships and things,
and I’m the only person on planet Earth who knows they exist.” This is fine as
far as it goes, but then the spaceship crashes and her reaction: “Oh, that’s
just not fair.” She no longer is The Most Important Person On Earth Because She
Is The Only One In The Know. Poor Rose.
Of course, she never was the only person who knows about
aliens. There are your requisite number of ‘nutters’ like Clive from Rose, and
there are the various actual experts such as congregate at Downing Street in
this episode; but aside from those, there is Mickey. Mickey who was with her as
first hand witness during Rose’s first adventure with the Doctor. But then Rose
has no more thought for this boy she calls friend than she has for your average
stranger on the street.
Twelve months she has been gone without a word. Granted, when
the Doctor first returns her home she believes she has only been gone twelve hours,
but once she greets her grief-stricken mother and discovers the error, she still
thinks only of herself.
“Every day I looked,” Mickey says of that long year she was
missing. “On every street corner, wherever I went, looking for a blue box for a
whole year.” Rose never sympathizes, she simply makes excuses: “It’s only been
a few days for me.” And then she has the nerve to ask this young man she calls
a friend, “So, er, in twelve months, have you been seeing anyone else?” And
then to cap everything she lays this devastating bit on him in describing the
Doctor: “He’s not my boyfriend, Mickey. He’s better than that. He’s much more
important than . . .” Better than a boyfriend; better than Mickey; better than
the unimportant, not-even-worthy-of-a-phone-call-after-a-year-away Mickey.
Rose’s treatment of her mother is only slightly better; Rose
dismisses her, too, as being beneath her. Why exactly can’t she tell her mother
where she has been? I suppose Jackie is not worthy of honesty. Rose would
rather maintain her supreme sense of self-importance. Then, when Jackie does
learn the truth, Rose lets her run off scared and confused so that she can
return to the Doctor, again ignoring Mickey, in order to discuss aliens,
because apparently the Doctor is still the only one she can talk to about these
things even when those closest to her are also now in the know. Rose has no one
to blame but herself for Jackie turning the Doctor in to the authorities.
I blame the Doctor as being complicit in this as well. He blatantly
belittles Jackie and Mickey; however Rose does little to defend them.
Finally, let’s examine Rose with a stranger off the street.
Harriet Jones offers to take Rose under her wing when Rose is refused entrance
with the Doctor into the inner circle (the effrontery). When alone, Harriet
begins to break down as she tells Rose about the horrors she has witnessed.
Rose has absolutely no clue how to react to a distraught person and can only
tentatively reach out her arms in comfort.
Don’t get me wrong, Gary. I don’t dislike Rose. I just view
her as deeply flawed and not as the heroic angel she deems herself. I never
really delved this deeply into Rose’s character before, either. I always vaguely
considered her self-centered, but I never saw her insensitivity to this degree
before now. I will definitely keep my eyes open over the course of her stay
with the Doctor to see if she improves.
I just want to make a few brief observations more about this
story. It’s nice to see UNIT again, although alas without the Brigadier. The
Bad Wolf theme is repeated in the form of graffiti on the TARDIS; I don’t mind
this unobtrusive arc loosely tying together the season; it is harmless enough
and only mildly annoying. For the second episode in a row I am reminded of The Talons of Weng-Chiang, the mermaid like pig creature reminiscent of the Peking
Homunculus. Finally, we have a return to the cliffhanger ending, with The
Aliens of London being the first part of a two part story.
And so I send this out, Gary, hanging on the cliff . . .
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