Forest of the Dead

Dear Gary—

Silence in the Library did a brilliant job of setting up this multi-layered mystery; that was the easy part. Forest of the Dead has the hard task of justifying the first half of the story with a satisfying conclusion, and for the most part it succeeds.

To begin with, I love how the dreamlike quality of the first part is expanded on in Forest of the Dead, most dramatically with Donna’s storyline.

“You said river, and suddenly we’re feeding ducks.” Donna sees through the illusion, but then, as Dr. Moon would say, she forgets. Throughout these sequences Donna struggles with the shifting realities, desperately trying to keep her grasp on the slippery nature of time and place. She manages to create a pleasant life for herself in this surreal environment complete with husband, home, and two children. However the truth continually breaks in on her fantasy and ultimately breaks her heart. Her grief at the loss of her children, regardless that they are illusions, is breathtakingly sad.

It is intriguing. Even though the world she has created is a dream come true and the truth is excruciating, Donna chooses to face reality. Of course the Doctor and Miss Evangelista push her, but it is ultimately her decision. Donna senses the world is wrong, and having received Evangelista’s note confirming it she resolves to confront the facts. Her eyes are opened and she sees the duplication of children and understands the rational explanations of Miss Evangelista despite rebelling emotionally.

Between Evangelista and the Doctor we get the reasonable answers to many of the questions raised in this multifaceted mystery. The (measly) 4,022 library patrons and employees, as well as Donna and Miss Evangelista, have been saved to the library’s hard drive; they exist in cyberspace; they are experiencing virtual lives. The one missing piece, however, the one piece that completes this mystifying puzzle, comes courtesy of Lux. “CAL. Charlotte Abigail Lux.” A dying granddaughter given new life inside a library “with a moon to watch over her and all of human history to pass the time.” The little girl, the computer, the library, the dreamscape—all wrapped up into a neat package.

With this fundamentally sound core the outer trappings contribute in making this an entertaining and absorbing story; and it starts with the little girl. Having the little girl observing the proceedings on TV, switching between the Library and Donna’s world, is a great tactic. It establishes her as an innocent and yet she is not on the sideline with the audience. She is central to the action, unwitting though she may be. Her story is the most tragic, and when she turns the remote on her father the horror of her surreal existence crashes in on her. She is trapped in a mad world of her own making and she is helpless to control it.

The Doctor and River provide another enriching element to the tale. The mystery that is River deepens and remains unsolved but provides a hint of tantalizing things to come. While this is still mildly annoying to me, I am again impressed with Alex Kingston’s interpretation and can overlook the more irksome aspects. Most disturbing to me is the imagery of the Doctor as a future warrior who can make “whole armies turn and run away.” This is not the Doctor I know. It is a Doctor, apparently, who River knows, but not one I care to encounter. Added to this is the god-like pronouncement: “And he’d just swagger off back to his TARDIS and open the doors with a snap of his fingers.” These are shadows of things to come, Gary, which I am not looking forward to. But I digress. Instead I will dwell on the more adventurous depiction of the Doctor: “The Doctor in the TARDIS; next stop everywhere.” And the evident spark between these two strong personalities. A comparative stranger, River manages to convey a solid relationship with the Doctor notwithstanding their lack of history (at least as far as the Doctor and the audience are concerned). Her obvious frustration with the man he is vs. the man she knows is perfectly balanced against the Doctor’s bafflement over this woman who carries his screwdriver and knows his name.

Quick diversion—can we please dispense with this whole Name of the Doctor self aggrandizement already? But I suppose that’s a little like River Song and her spoilers, so I’ll leave that be. I’ll take my cue from the Doctor and his reaction to the death of Anita: “I’m going to let that pass, just as long as you let them pass.” He is talking to the Vashta Nerada, the forgotten element of the tale. Not forgotten exactly, just kind of lost amongst the more compelling aspects of the little girl, the dream world, and River Song. The Vashta Nerada are a perfect fit to the shadowy nature of this mind bending narrative. Just enough information is provided to lend a menacing aura and just enough is going on around them to keep the doubts from lingering.

I won’t go into those doubts, Gary. If Forest of the Dead had been built around the Vashta Nerada I would, but even though The Library is their Forest of the title, the Vashta Nerada are merely a plot convenience to propel the action and I’ll leave them to their dead pages.

Piling up, however, are the hints of Doctor Who future that leave me queasy. “I’m the Doctor, and you’re in the biggest library in the universe. Look me up.” Taken by itself in this one episode and isolated from the canon it’s a great line. But spoilers aside, it is one in a long line of a growing trend that makes my blood boil. Forget the fact that the Doctor historically likes to keep a low profile and goes out of his way to erase all mention of himself from the public record . . . oh, I don’t even want to begin. Gods and Monsters. I don’t want my Doctor to be either.

I have started on this tangent, and following it through: I want to be able to watch this single episode, or actually two since it is a two part story, and not have to see it in the context of the entirety of the series. I can do that with any of the Classic Who with no problem. However New Who forces me to think in terms of story arcs, and perhaps that is the source of my annoyance with River Song; she is indicative of a larger construct of the current show that I find distasteful. First time viewing doesn’t uncover the trend; multiple screenings, however, amplifies it.

Sorry, Gary. I admire this story; I like this season of Doctor Who; I love Donna as a companion; I enjoy David Tennant as the Doctor. But I have been finding it harder and harder to write as I progress through the series, and little by little I am gaining an understanding of why that is and therefore feel the need to express these ideas as I think of them.

I’m not sure how to right this ship, particularly since I still want to cite my least favorite line perhaps in all of Doctor Who: “I have the two qualities you require to see absolute truth. I am brilliant and unloved.” How absolutely, fundamentally wrong is that? Not to mention demeaning and idiotic. Now I never thought Evangelista was a raving beauty to begin with, and her supposed imbecility was unbelievably ham-fisted, but to suggest that merely by becoming ugly she has become brilliant is beyond the pale. And again, Gary, I sigh and don’t even want to waste any more time on it.

Donna to the rescue with, “Is all right special Time Lord code for really not all right at all?” Moving, poignant, everything that is right about this serial. And so much of this serial is right. If I can only keep those shadows from crossing my path.

But the show keeps intruding. “Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day.” There is nothing wrong with ending on the melancholy. For that matter, there is nothing wrong with ending on the uplifting. But you have to pick. Too often these days Doctor Who tries to have it both ways and tacks fairy tale endings onto otherwise dramatically powerful conclusions. (Rose anyone? Sorry—spoilers.) The Doctor is so joyous and proud of himself for having ‘saved’ River. But what he has saved her to is a glorified Purgatory. I can’t imagine that she is going to be happy reliving the same day over and over with the same people, reading the same story again and again to the same fake kids, and never again experiencing the constant rush of adventure she knows and loves with the Doctor. First glance, the Doctor’s triumph is exhilarating. However it doesn’t hold up. I wish it did. I wish I could watch this story and enjoy it as I did upon first view. I still enjoy it, but oh those spoilers . . .

I send this out, Gary, hoping that it finds you all right, because I’m all right too.

Silence in the Library

Dear Gary—

“I never land on Sundays. Sundays are boring.” (Obviously the Doctor is not a Packers or TWD fan.) I would think, though, that the library would be the perfect place to land if you were going to land on a Sunday; a quiet, contemplative place for a quiet, contemplative day. Except the place isn’t as quiet and contemplative as the episode title, Silence in the Library, implies. What it is, is eerie.

It starts with the little girl with a library in her head. The intercutting between her seemingly normal home and the library and between her interactions with Dr. Moon and the Doctor are creepy, but what makes them truly spine-chilling is the fact that she has no clue what is happening. She is not an evil mastermind manipulating events, and even though it is evident that she has some measure of control over the library, it is equally evident that she has no explanation for what is happening there. She is genuinely alarmed by the presence of strangers and the pain she feels is palpable when the Doctor sonics the security camera. The creation inside her head is alive; and perhaps it is she that is a creation inside it.

 It is unsettling to observe the dueling worlds merge and mingle, as in a dream. However the Doctor serves as our reality checkpoint; the library is our scene of action and the child is a mystery to be solved; a poignant and chilling mystery.

Adding to the atmosphere is the introduction of the Vashta Narada. “Count the shadows” is a particularly hair-raising warning in an empty and silent library that is quickly losing its light. I do have a minor quibble (all of my quibbles are minor in this one) with the Doctor mentioning the dust in sunbeams as evidence of the infestation on our own planet. If that were the case, I would be dead long ago; and the moral of the story would be to keep a can of Pledge at the ready.

Further shrouding our adventure is the presence of River Song. Her initial appearance, along with her band of investigative astronauts, is sufficiently dramatic, underscored with the refrain of “others are coming.” Striding towards the Doctor and Donna in space suits and darkened helmets, we don’t know what to expect. Then River clears her visor and greets the Doctor with a disarming, “Hello, Sweetie,” only to be rebuffed by the Doctor’s, “Get out.”

It is perfectly played out amidst all of the uncertainty and disquiet. River and the Doctor are both confident and direct; and yet each inevitably confounds the other.  

I have to admit, Gary, that the first time watching this I considered River Song as a minor quibble. I found the whole conceit to be mildly irritating. Upon multiple views and armed with hindsight, I can now appreciate Alex Kingston’s performance; and since I presently know where this character is headed I am no longer annoyed by her familiarity with the Doctor in this first encounter. As for how this relationship eventually plays out—I reserve my opinion for the future. After all, you know, “spoilers.”

Accompanying River are some solid performers who make an impression despite their limited action. Helping with this are small script details like “Proper Dave” and “Other Dave” that go a long way in defining character without a lot of exposition. My one quibble here is with the heavy handed point that Miss Evangelista is stupid. If she is really as dumb as they make out she has no business being on the expedition. That aspect could have been handled with a bit more finesse. Miss Evangelista’s death and subsequent ghosting along with Donna’s sympathetic interactions with both the live and phantom versions are moving, but they would have had richer meaning if Evangelista’s character had been treated with more dignity than caricature.

One other quibble I have is with the number of people who were in The Library when it was closed: 4,022. You put 4,022 people in a stadium and it looks almost empty. You put 4,022 people on an entire planet and I would call that deserted. So why the fuss about no one being about when the Doctor and Donna first arrive? It’s also a sad commentary on literacy (and I assume that the majority of those 4,022 souls were employees).

My final quibble is with the Doctor. “I’m a time traveler. I point and laugh at archaeologists.” That is an unacceptable statement coming from the Doctor; it is something I would expect from Lux, not the Doctor. This is offset somewhat with the following exchange:

Doctor: “Well, funny thing, Mister Lux; I don’t want to see everyone in this room dead because some idiot thinks his pride is more important.”

River (to the Doctor): “Then why don’t you sign his contract?”

All of these are minor points, however, in the bigger picture that is Silence in the Library. The mysteries pile up and the tension mounts. Who is the little girl? How does River Song know the Doctor? What happened to those 4,022 people? Why are the Vashta Narada killing book lovers? And then there is Dr. Moon. His is an ambiguous presence. He has a mixed aura of sinister solicitude, and it is an eerie moment when he tells the little girl, “The real world is a lie, and your nightmares are real. The library is real.”

The ending of this first of a two part story is thrilling with Dead Dave in a space suit repeating, “Hey, who turned out the lights,” as he and the shadows advance upon the group, and it culminates with the visage of Donna on a Courtesy Node droning its own refrain of “Donna Noble has left the building. Donna Noble has been saved.”

A gripping tale that keeps me on the edge of my seat and looking forward to the conclusion.

Count the shadows Gary . . .

The Unicorn and the Wasp

Dear Gary—

“Think about it. There’s a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie.”

Pure, unencumbered Doctor Who having fun. I love it.

The Unicorn and the Wasp is the obligatory historical in which the Doctor and his companion meet a famous person. Doctor Who seasons are becoming somewhat paint by number. However The Unicorn and the Wasp manages to rise above the formula and is a delight.

 “Agatha Christie didn’t walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. I mean, that’s like meeting Charles Dickens and he’s surrounded by ghosts at Christmas.” The script recognizes the Doctor Who blueprint and cleverly pokes fun, and that is its strength. With a serious tone this episode would have been a disaster.

The real Agatha Christie not only didn’t walk around surrounded by murders, she also didn’t walk around surrounded by aliens. Neither did Charles Dickens, Queen Victoria, or Shakespeare, for that matter. The show can get away with past luminaries meeting up with extraterrestrials only so many times before it becomes farcical. What better way, therefore, to handle this particular Doctor Who cliché than to turn the episode itself into a farce?

The plot is as preposterous as the characters are caricatured. A giant wasp creature hidden dormant for 40 years in the person of a country vicar only to be unleashed in a moment of sibilant rage and to play a murderous parlor game during a 1920’s dinner party being thrown by his secret mother.

The Doctor and Donna dive head first into the fun. Dressed for the occasion (“Flapper or slapper?”), the two crash Lady Eddison’s garden party which is replete with game board characters, locales, and situations. “I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping?” All the Doctor and Donna have to do is follow the clues.

Helping them is none other than Agatha Christie, played brilliantly by Fenella Woolgar. The key to Ms. Woolgar’s success is that even though the material is absurd she takes it seriously; similar to her character. “I’ll work with you, gladly,” Agatha tells the Doctor, “but for the sake of justice, not for your own amusement.” Shades of Queen Victoria from Tooth and Claw.

The Doctor and Donna are delighting in the romp, but their lighthearted approach is suited to the production, and if their humor is at the expense of anyone it is at themselves. (“Miss Noble is the plucky young girl who helps me out.” “I’ll pluck you in a minute.” “Go on; you’re ever so plucky.”)They realize the outlandish nature of the adventure and are going with the flow, much like Donna trying to talk posh with the rich and famous. Yet the sincerity remains, allowing for the moving scene of Donna consoling Agatha who is tortured by shame and self-doubt.

It is pure pleasure to watch it play out; I feel just like Donna munching on snacks while following the Doctor’s and Agatha’s interrogation of the guests; and the murder mystery framework is ideally suited to the episode—from the alibi flashbacks to the hunting for clues (complete with magnifying glass) to the gathering of the suspects. Everything is done with a feel for the fun. I love it. There are certainly flaws with the story, but so what? I’m not about to spoil things with criticism.

This is a Doctor Who that I can just sit and enjoy and not have to think too much, other than trying to pick out all of the Agatha Christie titles that are scattered throughout. Doctor Who needs episodes like this from time to time.

Next time I’m feeling depressed, Gary, I think I’ll invite the Doctor and Donna over for a game of charades. Or I suppose I’ll have to settle for watching The Unicorn and the Wasp over again.

“How is Harvey Wallbanger one word?”