The God Complex

Dear Gary—

“So, what have we got? People snatched from their lives and dropped into an endless, shifting maze that looks like a 1980’s hotel with bad dreams in the bedrooms. Well, apart from anything else, that’s just rude.”

A succinct and simple summary of a succinct and simple story; except it isn’t as simple as that. Like the hotel, the plot is a complex maze of faiths and fears with shifting parameters. I have to say, Gary, that it took me a long time to warm up to this episode. My distaste for the recent direction of the show always colored my perception of it. Truthfully, for at least a season and a half I tend to watch each installment with a sense of resentment. However I deliberately tried to set aside any chips on shoulder for this latest viewing of The God Complex and have come to a deeper appreciation of it, flaws and all.

 The God Complex does what New Who does so well. It covers the defects with skill . . . usually with spectacle and effects and emotional wallops, but in this case more subtly with thought provoking themes and with atmosphere.

The 1980’s Earth (of course) hotel mock-up with nightmares hiding in every room is creepy. It does seem to come too closely on the heels of Amy and Rory trapped in a dollhouse from hell, but that’s minor. The opening “Praise Him” sequence with Lucy sets the mood perfectly for this house of psychological horrors, followed by the sinister sight of all of those ventriloquist dummies surrounding the helpless Joe. I only half-heartedly wonder why Joe is tied up; there is no logical explanation for it unless he had become violent towards the others, which I highly doubt. At this point in the tale they don’t know what is going on so I have no clue as to why they would bind him to a chair and abandon him in a roomful of his greatest fear. (Why his fear has manifested in the restaurant rather than in one of the bedrooms like all of the others is another mystery.)

The trio that the Doctor, Amy, and Rory run across in these ever-changing hallways also helps to deflect any nagging questions; the competent Rita, the nerdy Howie, and the cowering Gibbis. Any one of these would make for an interesting addition to the TARDIS crew, although Rita is clearly the Doctor’s first choice (shades of Martha). Personally I think having the untrustworthy Gibbis on board would make for a fascinating dynamic, but undoubtedly none of them is fated to make it that far.

It is through the fears and faiths of these three that we (that is the Doctor) begin to learn of the intention of the alien Minotaur cousin to the Nimon; however it is also through these that the narrative falls apart.

The fears lurking for Rita and Howie are appropriate, if somewhat stereotypical; Rita finds a disapproving father behind her door while Howie is confronted by a bevy of belittling beauties. Gibbis’ fear is rather random and seems more just an excuse to give the Weeping Angels some screen time. It is interesting that for Rita and Howie the terror is internal whereas Gibbis’ fear is a tangible threat, but nothing is ever explored down this line of thinking so I’ll abandon it as well.

Now as the Doctor reasons, the Minotaur uses these personalized phobias in order to foster and feed upon each individual’s belief system.  That is the theory, at any rate, but it doesn’t quite hold up in practice since the fears and the faiths don’t quite gel for any of them.

Rita’s Muslim heritage is the basis for her faith and it is the strongest of the trio; however Islam is hardly a defense against her daddy issues. Her idea that the hotel is Jahannam is what brings out her faith and lends her strength. “You don’t understand,” she tells the Doctor. “I say that without fear.” Without fear. The idea that she is in hell erases her fears. “Jahannam will play its tricks,” she continues, “and there’ll be times when I want to run and scream, but I’ve tried to live a good life, and that knowledge keeps me sane, despite the monsters and the bonkers rooms.” Poppa behind the door only brings out her faith in a roundabout way, not directly, but I suppose it ultimately does its job.

That doesn’t explain Howie, though. Howie spouts conspiracy theories, but that is not faith. If anything, the certainty of conspiracies displays a fundamental distrust in all things. And at any rate, how can a conspiracy theory save him from the mockery of empty-headed blondes? The supposed fear and faith do not correlate.

The weakest link, however, is Gibbis. Gibbis has no convictions whatsoever. He cowers and surrenders; he epitomizes the absence of faith. Perhaps that is why the Minotaur never goes after him; but then why was Gibbis kidnapped to begin with?

The whole kidnapping aspect of the plot is also suspect. Are people chosen at random or targeted? How are they transported? And why? Yes, I know it is to feed the Minotaur; but this is a prison. The only explanation is that the Minotaur’s captors belong in jail themselves. Are there more prisons like this out there preying on the unsuspecting populace of the Doctor Who universe, and if so why are they allowed to exist? What is this ruthless race of aliens anyway? None of this is explained in any satisfactory way.

In the long run, however, it just doesn’t matter. Or at least I don’t really care. The characters are engaging, the action thrilling, and the setting spooky. And it is all window dressing for the deeper questions it explores regarding the Doctor and his relationships. Truthfully I could do without more rehashing of this subject, but since New Who insists on it, this is as entertaining a way to go about it as any.

Let me get this out of the way: I am ambivalent towards Rory in this episode. Normally he saves the show for me, but in this one I shake my head at his characterization as someone with no beliefs. I go all the way back to The Eleventh Hour and remember a Rory who was full of almost childlike wonder. He was possessed of an open and curious mind. That was his pre-Doctor existence. Here he is suddenly hard and cynical with no guiding principles, and I have to say that a faithless Rory is a tad boring. Arthur Darville still manages to breathe life into the character, however, so all is not lost. And I suppose one could argue that this transformation is the result of his travels with the Doctor, and if so is more damning of the Doctor than any physical danger he and Amy face.

Ultimately, though, it is the Doctor’s effect upon Amy, and companions in general, that is at the heart of the tale. New Who has flirted with this concept almost from the beginning, and there is a danger in this. I have already questioned why Amy and Rory would continue traveling with the Doctor after everything that they have gone through; when the show explicitly raises the question it makes the viewer aware that life in the TARDIS is really not much fun. While that can give an edge to the show that is compelling, it can also ruin the enjoyment for a large section of the audience. It is a tightrope act; and I have to say that it is one in which New Who cheats. It likes to dangle the dangerous side of the Doctor in front of us, but it does so with a wink in its eye. Thus we get the Doctor fretting over the peril he has placed Amy and Rory in and advising Rita: “Offer a child a suitcase full of sweets and they’ll take it; offer someone all of time and space and they’ll take that too; which is why you shouldn’t.” He follows this up with a soberly delivered: “Which is why grown-ups were invented.” Only to brightly offer up all of time and space to Rita. Traveling with the Doctor is hazardous and don’t ever forget that, the show admits; but never mind, don’t take it too seriously. Walking on a tightrope, but with a huge net below.

We mustn’t forget that net as the Doctor breaks Amy’s faith in him. He accomplishes this by lying. “I can’t save you from this,” he tells her. “There’s nothing I can do to stop this.” He is of course in the process of saving her by telling her these things. He throws in a few semi truths to keep it real: “I took you with me because I was vain; because I wanted to be adored.” But none of this is convincing stuff to break Amy’s spirit. The Doctor did a much better job of it with Ace in The Curse of Fenric. If he really wants to do some damage he would bring up Melody and the fact that he promised to find Amy’s baby for her but that he has essentially stopped looking. But the tepid stuff he offers up seems to do the trick. I’m not really sure why or how this kills the monster, but oh well (as we say in Alvin).

Because her faith in him literally almost killed her, the Doctor decides it is time to say goodbye to Amy (and Rory).  “Why now?” Amy asks. “Because you’re still breathing,” the Doctor replies. And then in a dark moment of reflection he says, “And what’s the alternative? Me standing over your grave? Over your broken body? Over Rory’s” (again)? He hasn’t restored her baby to her, but he at least gives the couple a car and a house as door prizes before leaving them on their own. However there is that net always—“You haven’t seen the last of me.”

A number of things would have made this episode so much better. If the fears and faiths had matched up better or if the alien and the logistics of the place had been better explained for instance. But once again the story suffers in service to the arc and to the production. We needed to get to a place where the Doctor could question his influence upon his companions and where he could drop off those companions to once again fly solo. And too, if the production team would commit to the dark side of the Doctor, work without a net, and properly and seriously explore the dire consequences of traveling with the Doctor rather than using it as a device that will be forgotten the next time the Doctor runs across Amy and Rory or some other companion he decides to whisk away. Even still it is a decent enough adventure and I can say that I have enjoyed much of this season despite myself.

And so, Gary . . . “you haven’t seen the last of me.”