“Oh, let’s take the fun and mystery out of everything.” The
Doctor is not in the mood for explanations in The Shakespeare Code. “Martha,”
he continues, “you don’t want to know. It just does.”
The same can be applied to Doctor Who as a rule. Logical and
coherent explanations are few and far between; the show invites the audience to
instead just sit back and “hold on tight.” In the best serials the questions
barely even register; in most cases the questions are easily forgiven; in some
cases the questions leave behind a vague discontent; in a few cases the
questions scream out at me.
The Shakespeare Code is a prime example of some lingering
dissatisfaction despite the overall good feeling I have of the episode; and
upon closer examination is in danger of teetering over the edge into the
shrieking eddy wherein madness lies.
I’ll start with the good, because it is strong enough to
pull me back up over that dangerous precipice. And I’ll start with the sets,
costumes, and effects, because The Shakespeare Code looks fabulous. Shakespeare
himself is another asset—both the character and the actor playing him (Dean
Lennox Kelly). The Doctor also contributes to my general goodwill as does the
humor. Last, but not by any means least, Martha Jones continues to impress.
Taken together these elements make for an entertaining
serial that is enjoyable to watch. Yet when it is all over and done with I am
left perplexed; something about it just doesn’t sit right with me. The fact
that I have to go back and analyze to pin down what is wrong with it is a
testament to the quality of the good bits, but it doesn’t quite make up for the
fact that there is something amiss. This is irksome to me; I think I almost
prefer the out and out bad.
The witches are the obvious scapegoat for my lack of
enthusiasm, but it is not them per se, it is the lack of commitment the show
displays towards them. Either they are honest to goodness witches straight out
of Macbeth, or they are an alien race of Carrionites who have developed an advanced
science utilizing the spoken word and psychic energy. But even the Doctor can’t
make up his mind on this one.
Doctor: “If I tell them the truth, they’ll panic and think
it was witchcraft.”
Martha: “OK, what was it then?”
Doctor: “Witchcraft.”
I suppose that is my main objection to this episode; it
tries to have the best of both worlds, but in not taking a clear stand it sinks
under its own indecision. And it continually undermines itself throughout in
small ways as well as big.
Thus, Martha wonders if her race will be a problem in 1599
London, realizing that she is in a different time with different attitudes; yet
when Shakespeare refers to her as a “delicious blackamoor lady” she is aghast.
Then we have the Doctor pointing out to Martha that they are in Bedlam, a place
in which a cry for help is lost in the cacophonous din; yet he loses his sense
of place when he admonishes the keeper for doing his duty as he knows it. The
show does such a wonderful job of establishing the historical nature of the time
and place, and makes our characters mindful of the time and place in which they
have landed, yet it still wants to enforce modern morality.
The Doctor tells Martha, “Its political correctness gone mad,”
when Shakespeare tries to make up for his apparent faux pas; yet the script continually displays
its own political correctness gone mad; it is as though it is trying to
apologize for history.
Speaking of history, Martha asks the Doctor, quite rightly,
if it is safe to “move around and stuff.” The Doctor, still not in the mood for
explanations, dismisses her example of butterflies and films. “What have
butterflies ever done to you?” Then when she pushes the notion, wondering if
she should by some chance kill her grandfather: “Are you planning to?” It is
very clever and funny. But then later when Martha states that the world did not
end in 1599 and therefore they are safe, the Doctor does his own film reference
with Back to the Future. So he initially brushes off Martha’s concerns about
changing the course of history, but then when it is convenient he emphasizes those
very concerns as though she never thought of it before. Once again the script
wants it both ways.
Then we have Shakespeare. “He’s a genius,” the Doctor says of him. “The
genius. The most human human there’s ever been. Now we’re going to hear him
speak. Always he chooses the best words; new, beautiful, brilliant words.” Then
the script undercuts this with the first words out of this genius’ mouth: “Ah, shut your big fat mouths!” It is clever
and funny and deliberate. However, the equally clever and funny and deliberate
quotes that the Doctor feeds to our genius as our story progresses tend to
prove that our genius is not so much a genius as a thief; the “best words” that
he chooses are not chosen after all but stolen; a not so deliberate
consequence, I suspect, of the oh so funny and clever script.
This is even more curious when you consider that the whole
reason the Carrionites have found a way out of their imprisonment and into this
world is due to the brilliant wordsmith, and the witches further enlist his aid
in releasing the rest of their fiendish kin. “The mind of a genius will unlock
the tide of blood,” Bloodtide proclaims. Except I can’t help but notice that
the words comprising this magic code are not Shakespeare’s words at all—they
are spoon fed via the witches’ potion to his pen while he is in some kind of a
trance. So why exactly did they need The Bard?
Furthermore, the bloody tide starts to unleash during
rehearsal as Burbage recites the magic spell written down before him on the
page. It’s beyond me why the witches are upset about this; I would think they
would be happy; but apparently there is a certain witching hour that needs to
be upheld. At any rate, if a simple rehearsal can unlock the demon hole, why
can’t the witches go to the Globe themselves and recite their incantation and
be done with it? Why the need for Shakespeare or the play?
There are only three nuggets of truth that I find in the
chosen person and place. The first is the witches’ entrance into this world.
Speaking of Shakespeare, Lilith explains, “His son perished. The grief of a
genius. Grief without measure. Madness enough to allow us entrance.” This I can
believe (at least I can believe this of a Shakespeare who doesn’t swipe all his
best lines from passing strangers). The next is the architecture of the Globe Theater.
“Words and shapes following the same design,” the Doctor says as he begins to
put the pieces together. “Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets.” And
then later he links this up with “the fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary
configuration.” This is a plausible enough explanation for the need to perform
the incantation in the Globe.
Finally, I can accept the use of Shakespeare to dispel the witches
(the genius wordsmith and not the plagiarist). “That’s what you do, Will,” the
Doctor encourages him, “You choose perfect words.” Here is the justification for his presence.
The special effects whirling about, the chaos, the confusion, and William
Shakespeare standing in the middle of this maelstrom working his magic. “No!
Words of power,” Lilith screams. Except again the clever and funny script can’t
help itself. The final word to complete the spell and seal the Carrionite doom is
supplied to him by JK Rowling of all people via Martha and the Doctor. “Expelliarmus!”
The power of the word. So much is made of this in The
Shakespeare Code, yet that power is continually blunted throughout. The
Shakespeare Code falls victim to its own conceit. I have no idea what that
means, Gary, but it sounds good.
“Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm.
Words that last forever.” A science based on words. It’s an intriguing concept,
especially when coupled with Shakespeare. But it is never fully embraced and it
ends up being some beautiful and entertaining mumbo jumbo.
“Oh, let’s take the fun and mystery out of everything.” The
Doctor isn’t in any mood for explanations, and perhaps that is where I should
take my cue.
After all, Gary:
“You don’t want to know. It just does . . . .”
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