The Big Bang

Dear Gary—

Never has it been clearer that there is absolutely nothing that the Doctor cannot survive. That of course has been a given all along; the show is called Doctor Who after all and for the show to survive the Doctor must also. But there was always at least some suspense, some anxiety, and some interest in how he would get out of trouble. No longer. Just jog Amy’s memory.

That is a problem and a continuing trend in New Who. With each miraculous success that the writers pull out of the Doctor’s magic hat the stakes are forced higher and higher. The dangers have to be bigger and the predicaments more impossible in order for there to be any sense of tension; but when we know that there is some cheat or trickery or heretofore undisclosed power lurking in the script to save the day there is no longer any apprehension. I have mentioned before that I find magicians boring, and Doctor Who is increasingly becoming nothing more than one giant illusion.

It is also plainly evident that the Doctor has zero interest in restoring Gallifrey. Any grief or guilt he displays over his lost home is a bluff. His admonitions to companions about not breaking those precious laws of time, of never crossing over into one’s own personal timeline to change history—all a cruel joke. If he could go back and change the Time Lord’s fate he would, but he can’t. Hah! It’s a lie and he knows it. If his own life is in danger just watch how many laws he breaks.

As for River’s “spoilers,” well, that’s just a cutesy little game between her and the Doctor to keep things spicy. It’s their version of ‘don’t tell me; I want to work it out for myself.’ It has nothing to do with laws of time. The no spoilers rule only holds for them as long as their own lives are not in danger. No matter how many worlds are devastated or lives lost, as long as the Doctor and his companions are amused, that’s what counts. But when pushed into a corner, boy, just break out those spoilers; tell all.

I’m sorry Gary. I had to get that out of the way. Truth be told, I enjoy The Big Bang. It is funny and clever and entertaining. I just have to watch it as the spectacle it is and forget what it really means for the show as a whole.

I love how it starts with little Amelia Pond and not with any of the three major cliffhangers from the previous episode. It sets the tone of the story perfectly, and little Amelia is always a joy to watch. I do have to laugh, however, at the grave concern her aunt and psychiatrist have over Amelia’s drawings of stars. She’s a little girl for heaven’s sake. I suppose if she drew pictures of unicorns and pink elephants and leprechauns they would be hauling out the straight jacket for her; who knows but that she’ll go off and join the dreaded Lollipop Guild. (And if little Amelia grew up in a world without stars, how does grown up Amy Pond not flinch when she flies amongst the stars with the Doctor?) I also have to keep going back to the fact that even though Amy’s mother and father have been erased from time she retains some sort of memory of them; and I can’t help but wonder how Aunt Sharon thinks she is related to this little girl if her sibling, Amelia’s parent, has been deleted from history. But it all goes to the inconsistent nature of this Crack. Regardless, Amelia is a delight.

Next we get my favorite, Rory: “I could do with a ridiculous miracle about now.” There’s a summary of The Big Bang if I ever heard one.  The Big Bang is one ridiculous miracle after another, perpetrated by the Doctor in a fez and carrying a mop. The Doctor does so much time jumping it’s hard to keep track, but it’s oh so fun to watch as he crisscrosses through his recent adventures setting up the intricate scenario. “OK, kid; this is where it gets complicated” indeed. Of course the only way this elaborate plot can work is if it is helped along the way by some whopping big contrivances and conveniences courtesy of the author. Like how remarkably easy this solitary confinement cell of a Pandorica is to open—especially if you have a sonic screwdriver (“just point and press”) or if you happen to share DNA with the person trapped inside. And how the Pandorica has magical healing powers to restore the “mostly dead” Amy to life. (The Pandorica is Billy Crystal all of a sudden?) The Alliance didn’t think through the plans for this prison very well; maybe during the course of his history hopping the Doctor donned a disguise and went back in time to aid in its construction.

Amy and little Amelia and plastic Rory and River running around after the Doctor(s) in the National Museum. It’s all quite fun. And why not a Dalek? They need a threat, no matter how toothless. Who knows what that death-by-Dalek Doctor is all about, except the Doctor himself; it’s just a game and he’s setting the rules. (So much for the Blinovitch Limitation Effect.) River’s merciless stand off against the decimated Dalek is an effective scene; one of those scenes designed as a stand up and cheer moment. Of course it reveals her callous nature, but who can she show her true colors to if not a dying Dalek?

Speaking of true colors—even as plastic man Rory shows himself to be the most human of them all. “Two thousand years. The boy who waited.” It is confusing, though. I assume that the Rory who finally does marry Amy is real Rory and not the Rory who did wait around through those millennia, but does he somehow retain the memories of plastic Rory? And what of his death by Silurian? Has that been erased as well, yet does he retain the memory? “Memories are more powerful than you think.” I guess so. Oh what the afterlife enthusiasts would do if they ever knew of his existence.

I’m not sure how this whole reboot thing works, either, vis-à-vis Amy’s now you have them now you don’t parents (or more accurately, now you don’t have them now you do). Since she initially grew up with fuzzy half-memories to no memories of these people and now suddenly they are back in her life, does she have made-up memories of them, no memory whatsoever and she has to pretend she knows them, or did they really exist all along in this new world and therefore would Amy’s history with the Doctor be re-written to include them? Except Amy’s history with the Doctor never existed, until that is she remembers. Oh yes, the magic remember spell. “Memories are more powerful than you think.” It’s all according to what she finds written in the script, I guess.

All of this brings me back to The Crack. This whole season has been about this Crack. Well, as it happens, The Crack is a fizzle. It is as wibbly wobbly as the Doctor’s timey wimey. There is no consistency to this Crack. It is as ethereal as a memory. Oh, that’s right, “memories are more powerful than you think.” Memories can reboot the universe. Memories can bring back people who were never born or erased or something. I guess memories are more powerful than The Crack. Memories have done in The Crack.

But The Crack is not A Crack. It is many cracks ripping apart the universe. Cracks of all shapes and sizes. Cracks that can devour history or that can be used as teleports. I think. It really kind of depends upon which serial in this Crack of a season you are watching, or which you choose to remember.

One singular Crack has been following the Doctor and Amy throughout. It is of the same shape, although its size can differ. But this Crack has no intelligence behind it. It is just a crack in the universe, one of many, caused by the exploding TARDIS. So how does it follow the Doctor about? Why does it appear on the unfortunate Star Whale that ran afoul of the Bloody Liz Ten? How does it insert itself into the lock of the TARDIS? Well as it turns out, it is simply because it is written in the pages of the script in order to offer signposts to the viewer that there is a theme and a thread to follow. There is nothing more ominous than that behind the Crack that follows the Doctor about. It is deadly but inanimate.

Worst of all, it remains unresolved. Because we never learn what the true intelligence is behind the exploding TARDIS. Not yet.

Deep sigh; groan; give me strength.

But for now, who cares? The Doctor is dancing at Amy’s wedding.

Sorry, Gary. I know I’m jumping all over the place here. But that’s the very nature of The Big Bang, and of this cracking season. There is no coherency, even though it is deliberately crafted. It is all about the set up, so that we can say, ‘oh, that’s why his jacket is wrong,’ or ‘oh, that’s how he knew that,’ or ‘oh, that’s what he meant by that.’ And it is all about the emotional wallop; about the Roman Centurion guarding the Pandorica through the centuries; about the Doctor’s life rewinding; about “something old; something new; something borrowed; something blue.” And it is about the entertainingly cool bits; about a mop and a fez. (“It’s a fez. I wear a fez now. Fezzes are cool.”)

For the standard as set by New Who, The Big Bang is a resounding success. Just don’t pay too close attention, Gary.

Nothing up its sleeve . . .