Utopia

Dear Gary—

“The skies are made of diamonds.”

What a beautiful thought for the last of humankind to carry with them as they venture out into those blank heavens at the end of the universe. Utopia. The word and the story both encompass two emotions: despair and hope.

It is a desperate world in which the Doctor and Martha land; dark and bleak and barren; all rock and gravel. The Futurekind residing on the planet represents the worst that humanity faces; a degeneration into cannibalism. Utopia, on the other hand, holds the possibility of salvation. It is interesting that the impetus propelling them to this world is Captain Jack.

Jack had flung himself onto the outer door of the TARDIS as it dematerialized. (“Well, that’s very him.”) In attempting to shake off the clinging Jack the TARDIS transports them to the end of the universe. Jack, the impossible man (there’s that word again) who was never meant to be lives an endless life that is both a blessing and a curse; even he doesn’t know which it is.

Adventure soon finds our three travelers in this stark and far-flung edge of the universe.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.”

Caught up in the human hunt, they race to the safety of the silo. Here is another world of desperation; the end of the line for the human race with families huddled refugee style in cramped halls and Professor Yana and Chantho working in futility with the knowledge that their life-line of a rocket will never take off yet feeding the expectations of their fellows. “Well, it’s better to let them live in hope,” Yana says.

The Doctor sums it up in a word: “Indomitable!”

The Doctor, of course, is the real life-line for this indomitable race; one flick of his magic wand of a sonic screwdriver and the system comes alive. Now all of the rushing about has a purpose and all of these lost souls can continue dreaming of Utopia (to borrow a phrase from Professor Yana).

It is a decent enough adventure and does its job adequately. It assembles all of our essential cast together and keeps us entertained. It provides explanations and back stories as needed. And it ties in multiple aspects of past episodes. Most importantly, however, it wraps all of these things up into a neat package to set up the real story that is to come. As a set up episode, I do not feel shortchanged. (I shudder with vague recollections of Frontier in Space.)

One of the main accomplishments of Utopia is to reintroduce Captain Jack Harkness, and he fits in seamlessly despite never having met either Martha or the Tenth Doctor. The rapport is excellent, and once again I have to say that it is a shame his character was never more of a permanent companion, if nothing else than to distract from the regrettable Doctor/adoring young girl dynamic.

I love how the Doctor cautions Jack upon his every greeting, whether of male or female persuasion. And the conversation between the two regarding Jack’s immortality is one of the highlights; although I find the Doctor’s explanation for abandoning Jack rather callous.

Despite being more or less sidelined within the trio, Martha makes her presence felt as a wry observer. “Oh ho, boys and their toys,” as the Doctor and Jack compare transport. “Oh, she was blonde? Oh what a surprise,” as the Doctor and Jack reminisce. And my favorite: “You’ve got a hand? A hand in a jar. A hand in a jar in your bag.”

The Doctor/Martha unrequited puppy love theme is still evident, however, and echoed by the Professor Yana/Chantho relationship. I like Chantho; she has an economy of character that manages to depict richness of detail and history. Simple things like her odd speech pattern leads to playful banter with Martha and adds humor and warmth to the story. The last of her kind aspect also intersects with the Doctor, and her ancestral past is tied in with a single word shared by the Doctor: “Conglomeration.” It is sad to see her demise, but much like Utopia, she has served her purpose and it is time to move forward.

This brings us to Yana. As played by Derek Jacobi, Professor Yana is a wonderfully befuddled but brilliant mind with dark undertones subtly portrayed and more overtly signaled with the sound of drums beating in his head. The end of the universe, Futurekind, rocket ships to Utopia, even Jack Harkness take a back seat as the drum beats get louder. Slowly Yana becomes the focal point.

The countdown commences, preparations for launch proceed, the Doctor and Jack rush about flipping switches; and all the while the drum beats get louder and Yana becomes quietly consumed with bygone voices. Martha cuts through the commotion about her and zeroes in on Yana; the eye of the storm. “An orphan in the storm,” Yana says as he recalls his past while Martha prompts him about his watch—a watch all too familiar to her.

Y-A-N-A: You-Are-Not-Alone. I actually have a big problem with this stretching of credulity, but I’ll let it go.

Martha runs to the Doctor with her news. “But that’s brilliant, isn’t it,” she asks. Except this promise of hope, this realization that there might be a Time Lord other than the Doctor alive in the universe has this one huge caveat: “Depends which one.”

“I am the Master.”

The transformation from mild Professor Yana to diabolical Master is chilling.

The big reveal. It is to this end that the episode has been leading. The despair of being the last; the hope of not being alone. The answer: The Master.

The adventure itself is utilitarian, lifted greatly by the characterizations. The payoff, however, reaps huge benefits. Not only is the Doctor not alone; not only is the Doctor not the last of the Time Lords; but the second Time Lord joining the Doctor is none other than the Master.

And then the distinguished Derek Jacobi as Yana/Master regenerates into the childishly maniacal John Simm.

The rocket has launched; Futurekind has been let in; Jack and Martha fight to keep the doors shut against slaughter; the newly regenerated Master takes off in the TARDIS; and the Doctor stands composed amidst it all. “I’m sorry,” he says, sonic raised.

It is a cliffhanger worthy of the name.

I’ll leave on that cliff, Gary. I’m sorry . . .