Gridlock

Dear Gary—

I resign myself to the notion of having to watch Gridlock. It is an unfair preconception on my part but I can’t shake it. Once I am watching Gridlock I enjoy it, but the dark, claustrophobic nature of it colors my perception when it is not actually before me on the screen. Plus the fact that the one thing in this world I hate the most is driving, and the thought of viewing an entire episode about nothing but driving drives me nuts. (If I ever win the lottery, the first thing I will do is hire a chauffeur.)

At least in Gridlock the Doctor has at last taken Martha off Earth, even if it is to the retread New Earth, which is getting very old.

At this point I want to note, Gary, that I just recently popped in The Dominators, and from the first cheap model shot of a spacecraft landing on alien soil I was cheering. What a breath of fresh air. But back to the congested confines of Gridlock.

“Well, it looks like the same old Earth to me, on a Wednesday afternoon.”

Yeah, same old.

“You’re taking me to the same planets that you took her?”

Yeah, retread.

The story itself, however, manages to rise above this limited scope.

I’m not sure why it works, but it might be that very claustrophobic nature that predisposes me against it. This is a small story on a small scale dealing with some big concepts. On the face of it, Martha is kidnapped and taken to the Motorway where thousands or possibly millions of people are trapped in an endless loop of a traffic jam with no hope of escape. The Doctor is in pursuit but waylaid by Novice Hame and with the aid of the Face of Boe opens the roof of the highway allowing for all of the cars to enter the city on the planet’s surface.

(Oh, and as an afterthought throw in some monsters below to add some menace; the Macra, devolved from their previous form as depicted in The Macra Terror of classic Who.)

A multitude of questions arise out of this scenario, the bulk of which deal with how stupid these people are to stubbornly stay put on a journey of hopelessness and how exactly they survive along the way. But the story boldly flaunts these very ambiguities. It almost throws them in our face and stares us down with them.

“In all that time,” the Doctor demands of Alice and May regarding the twenty three years they have traveled on the Motorway, “have you ever seen a police car?” The two squirm uncomfortably and look askance as they evade the question. That is Doctor Who brashly daring to ask those very questions and yet managing to brazenly avoid answering them. Those doubts, those almost apologetic and guilty looks as the guest cast tries to cover their lack of knowledge or initiative or curiosity; that is all the understanding we need.

In a strange way this frees us up to simply accept the parameters the script has laid out for us and to concentrate on the larger storytelling.

The larger storytelling is actually a very simple thing; it is a story of hope and understanding and a sense of community and belonging. It is told by the people trapped on the Motorway and it is told by the Doctor and Martha.

The obvious starting point is with the people on the Motorway, these disparate individuals in their isolated and customized vehicles who banter with one another over the airwaves and take a moment out of their dreary day to sing hymns in unison. They are united in one hope, one vision, one goal. Optimism flows from Brannigan; it is a life affirming journey despite twelve years of dead end traffic. (Kittens!) It is a community in microcosm as the Doctor car hops his way down to the fast lane to rescue Martha.

One could make an ‘opiate of the masses’ argument here. After all, this planet is rife with drugs. The Doctor and Martha initially land in Pharmacy Town where street peddlers are pushing all manner of ‘moods,’ and we later learn that the current crisis is caused by the craze mood Bliss which “killed the world in seven minutes flat.” (I have to parenthetically wonder about the Honesty patch that Cheen is wearing—is Milo that suspicious of her and if so for good cause?)However the mass exodus is away from the under city and towards the light above. The hope that propels and sustains these people comes from within and from their bond with one another.

Kinship, unity, identity. These are all things the Doctor has lost.

“The sky’s a burnt orange,” the Doctor tells Martha of his home planet, “with the Citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome shining under the twin suns. Beyond that the mountains go on forever; slopes of deep red grass capped with snow.”

We know that this Gallifrey of his is dead and gone; Martha does not. The Doctor keeps it alive in his mind—his planet, his home, his community, his people, his family, his friends. “I lied to you,” he later confesses, “because I liked it. I could pretend. Just for a bit I could imagine they were still alive underneath a burnt orange sky.”

The Doctor has to make his own way through the friendless universe.

“You are not alone.” The Face of Boe speaks his final words, but the Doctor finds no peace in them. “The Face of Boe was wrong,” he tells Martha. “There’s no one else.” The Doctor has no hope to carry him, only the memories that he desperately clings to. Strains of Abide With Me fills the air, the faith swelling down from the city above him, but the Doctor sits in his loneliness and despair as he relates the tragic history of the Time Lords to Martha.

It is a start, however; the first step in establishing a connection with another. That had been the true importance of Rose in his life; his mistake was in depending too deeply on that one attachment to the exclusion of all else. He has to begin again and he is understandably reluctant to do so. He promised Martha only one trip in the TARDIS claiming he would rather be on his own. We know this isn’t true, and deep down he knows it as well. Thus he stretches the definition of one trip to include one past and one future trip.

Along the way he has to lose Martha in order to find her. “Hardly know her,” he says of her as he frantically tries to rescue her from the lower levels of the Motorway. “I was too busy showing off.”  He is beginning to realize the superficial nature of their relationship and beginning to appreciate the significance of true friendship.

Martha, on the other hand, is beginning to realize the folly of blind faith. “I didn’t really think,” she tells Milo and Cheen. “I just followed the Doctor.” She is millions of years removed from her family. “They don’t even know where I am,” she says of them. “My mum and dad. If I died here, they’d never know.” She has followed the Doctor and she doesn’t even really know him. She continues to place her trust in him, though (what else has she got?). However, once removed from danger she puts her foot down and demands answers from him.

Sitting in the alley, the city above vibrant with song, Martha commands the Doctor’s attention; and the Doctor pulls up a chair. The two are finally beginning to communicate. The Doctor is letting Martha in and Martha is letting go some of her false ideals (if only Rose had taken a lesson).

“You are not alone.” It is a strong urge in all of us, to have that connection to another.

“You’ve got me,” Martha reasons. “Is that what he meant?”

The Doctor disagrees and dismisses the Face of Boe’s words. Yet he does have Martha; he is not alone; and after the events of Gridlock they are closer than ever.

Words of hope, Gary; you are not alone . . .