Voyage of the Damned

Dear Gary—

Voyage of the Damned is a much needed respite. It is one of the few episodes in this young modern era that isn’t laden with heavy themes and season-filling arcs and deeper meaning. This is simply a story to enjoy. That is not to say that it doesn’t have its problems, but for the most part this is pure adventure. As such, it is fitting that it recalls some of the Classic Who serials. The first one I think of upon viewing the Titanic cruising through the heavens is Enlightenment and its own sailing ships racing through the stars. Next I am reminded of Delta and the Bannermen and the alien tour group en route to Earth. Finally the excellent Robots of Death comes to mind. Pleasant memories indeed to carry me along for the ride on this newly forged Poseidon Adventure in the skies.

The story begins with a replica of the Titanic crashing into the TARDIS, and now I recollect two more Classics dealing with similar space collisions: Nightmare of Eden and Terminus. However this collision is quickly righted; with one flip of a switch the TARDIS is repaired and now the Doctor is simply exploring this strange flying Titanic as a matter of curiosity.

As per usual for New Who the sets and costumes are first rate; and the Stovians have perfectly replicated the lush era of early 1900’s Earth for their traveling pleasure, with a few anomalies like the angel robot Host. Slowly the Doctor meets his fellow shipmates, yet another stellar cast of Doctor Who guest stars depicting a great array of personalities.

My favorites are contest winners Morvin and Foon Van Hoff, but I also have a soft spot for tour guide Mr. Copper and his mangled Earth history. Bannakaffalatta is also good as the token alien amongst this horde of very human looking extraterrestrials.  My first impression of Astrid is: oh great, yet another love struck blonde. However, since I now know she does not make it as a permanent TARDIS companion, I can accept her for the stock character she portrays. Midshipman Frame is at a disadvantage in that he is isolated from the rest, and yet his presence is felt throughout and he seems just as much a part of their group as if he were actually present with them. Finally there is ruthless businessman Rickston Slade, and again I get carried back in time to the profiteer Lord Palmerdale from Horror of Fang Rock; another shipwreck victim as I think of it, although of a more conventional nature.

Without a main companion, this is a great group for the Doctor to play off of in our disaster pic.

It is a rather conventional story, and that is its main strength. The pre-disaster meet and greet is fun; the mid-disaster action is suspenseful, thrilling, and touching in turn; and the post-disaster finale is bittersweet. The straightforward plot allows the large ensemble room to tell their tales.

Even the small roles are pivotal. Chief among these is Captain Hardaker. With relatively little screen time this part is still important enough for the distinguished Geoffrey Palmer to imbue it with dignity and stature. He provides a human face behind the tragedy, much more so than the true mastermind Max Capricorn.

Max Capricorn is probably my least favorite aspect of Voyage of the Damned. He is too much of a comic book villain. And can someone tell me why Doctor Who has such a penchant for ranting baddies confined to rolling life-support systems? I think I would have liked it better if Max and Slade had been combined into one making for a more complex character. Or if they really wanted to go with the mobile blusterer, and to continue with my nostalgia theme, perhaps a reboot of the Collector from The Sun Makers would have made for a fascinating diversion.  As he stands (or sits) Max Capricorn is loathsome without being very interesting or entertaining.

My second least favorite actually comprises some of the dramatic high points of the episode.

“I’m the Doctor. I’m a Time Lord. I’m from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I’m nine hundred and three years old and I’m the man who’s going to save your life and all six billion people on the planet below. You got a problem with that?”

This is a stirring speech and a much needed verbal slap in the face for Slade; but I’m really getting sick of the Tenth Doctor’s braggadocio. I wouldn’t mind as much if the show didn’t back him up in this god-making tendency. The Host angels pledging their fealty to him and carrying him off to heaven, even if it is only to the bridge, is overkill I can do without.

Somehow making this worse, though, is that the show then goes on to subvert the Doctor. Not content to make him a god, it proceeds to make a mockery of his supposed divinity. High on his hubris, the Doctor makes several decisive promises to save everyone. They believe him; we believe him. The Doctor is going to lead these people to salvation. One after another those people die. Then Mr. Copper offers this piece of wisdom: “Of all the people to survive, he’s not the one you would have chosen, is he? But if you could choose, Doctor, if you decide who lives and who dies, that would make you a monster.”

Given the direction this tenth generation takes, I suppose one could argue that this is the point of the episode; that the Doctor is setting himself up as a god but in reality he is turning into a monster. I’m sorry, but I don’t want my Doctor to be a monster; and I don’t think the show seriously does either. If the show really wanted to make that point it would not treat the stirring speech or the Host elevation scene with such reverence and with all of the special effects and musical cues thrown at them to pronounce them good. I think the show is hedging its bets. I think the show wants us to cheer the Doctor as a god and a super hero but wants to reserve the right to pull the rug out from under him. I think the show is cheating.

I do want to point out that the Ninth Doctor makes similar pronouncements at times, but the difference is that he usually inspires confidence whereas the Tenth tends to foster dependence. I hadn’t meant to get diverted onto this sidebar, Gary, especially since it flies in the face of my opening paragraph ‘no heavy themes or story arcs’ statement. However I have started down this path and will see it through.

Perhaps someday I’ll do a deeper analysis between this episode and The Parting of the Ways in which I praised the Ninth Doctor’s ability to inspire and went through the various death scenes. For now I will simply look at those deaths that occur in Voyage of the Damned.

First up: Morvin. He steps wrong and down he plummets to his death. Not much there, except that he is expressing doubt that he and Foon can make it across the bridge when he falls. Foon is devastated by his death, and all she can do is accuse the Doctor over and over with, “You promised me,” and exhort him to use his magical powers to bring her husband back to her. She gives up all will to live at this point and refuses to take another step. “He don’t want nothing; he’s dead,” Foon states when the Doctor tries to lift her spirits with thoughts of her husband. She is defeated. The Doctor can only make another hollow promise that he will be back for her, but in essence he gives her up. She does die nobly, the second of our deaths; sacrificing herself to save the others; but arguably this is more an act of suicide than anything else. Next we have Bannakaffalatta. His death, too, is one of self-sacrifice. However, it is not the Doctor who inspires him but rather Astrid.

Astrid’s is our final death scene. She lays down her life for the Doctor, and this is the only sacrifice that can be credited to the Doctor’s inspiration. However this is debatable. One could argue that her nature is one of selflessness from the start, glimpses of which can be seen in her tender interactions with Bannakaffalatta. One could also argue that she is being guided not only by altruism but by her burning crush. And one could argue that her death is regrettable and avoidable and can be squarely placed on the Doctor’s shoulders.

 Overall, however, Voyage of the Damned is solid entertainment. Setting aside deeper analysis (a promise I failed to deliver on—sorry Gary), each death is touching and made more poignant by the many breathing points of character development allowed as the story progresses. The Doctor’s frantic attempts to save Astrid do become macabre, yet it is moving and fitting that he ultimately sends her shimmering shards off amongst the stars. “You’re not falling, Astrid; you’re flying.”

All is not death, however. There is promise at the end. Yes, Slade does live while others more deserving have died, but at least Midshipman Alonso Frame ("Allons-y, Alonso!") and Mr. Copper survive the ordeal; and the Doctor’s last act is to provide a new life and hope for Mr. Copper. As Copper skips off with his new found wealth I can’t help but wish that the Doctor would visit him upon occasion.

Despite the grim mortality rate there was some well-placed humor to keep things lively. I especially liked the Doctor’s dig at Max: “You can’t even sink the Titanic.” And there were a few Doctor Who tidbits gleaned, like the fact that the TARDIS is “programmed to lock onto the nearest center of gravity” once it has been set adrift. Or like the Doctor rattling off that he is 903 years old. I do not take this as literal fact, though. The Doctor is notorious for throwing out numbers when it comes to his age, but I doubt that even he knows what it really is. By the way, fellow Time Lord Romana also fudged her age at least once, so this might be a Time Lord tradition.

One final mention before I leave, Gary. I want to back up to the brief Red 67 sojourn to Earth. I love this tiny little moment in the episode and I feel like I’ve dissed on the Doctor and want to end on a good note. This is a priceless gift that the Doctor gives to Astrid. He doesn’t think it is all that, but Astrid’s unbridled joy over standing on alien concrete amongst alien shops with alien smells is infectious. Plus we have a peek at Bernard Cribbins as Donna’s grandfather Wilfred Mott (although not yet revealed as such).

A great moment to leave on, Gary. Here’s hoping this finds you, not falling but flying . . .