The Rings of Akhaten

Dear Gary—

“Can you feel the light on your eyelids? That is the light of an alien sun.”

I can’t say anything bad about The Rings of Akhaten. I have been complaining so long that Doctor Who never explores alien planets and here it has done so in spectacular fashion. This alone is worth the 45 minute investment.

We start with some background of Clara’s parents before venturing out into space. It is a sweet, ordinary romance begun with a leaf. The Doctor spies on this charming family unit as they progress through their commonplace lives up until the poignant death of the mother. It is a succinct telling of the tale and provides us with all the information we need to understand Clara and her sentimental attachment to a leaf.

With the emotional landscape well established, the Doctor takes Clara to the Festival of Offerings where the locals barter in “objects psychically imprinted with their history; the more treasured they are, the more value they hold.” It is a wonderful bustling bazaar full of bizarre creatures from the seven worlds orbiting around that same sun the Doctor so proudly showed off to Clara. The sensibility of the place evokes a nostalgic reaction from the Doctor as he reminisces about his granddaughter. It is a fleeting reference to Susan, but it expresses volumes.

Furthering the sentimental ambiance of the story is the little girl, Merry, the Queen of Years. Perfectly cast and costumed, this sacrificial lamb works her way into Clara’s heart. And the comfortable rapport Clara quickly establishes with the frightened child endears her (Clara) to us, even if the TARDIS seems to have taken a dislike to her. The Doctor adds to the maudlin nature of the narrative with his “cabbages and kings” speech to Merry.

I don’t have much to say about the plot; partly because I promised not to say anything bad, but mostly because there isn’t much of a one to discuss. Clara talks the little girl into singing and there is a lovely moment as the Doctor and Clara join in on the ceremonial proceedings. Apparently, however, the little girl hits a sour note and is transported away in a most beautiful fireball of an effect. The Doctor delivers his “we don’t walk away” philosophy to Clara (how far the Doctor has traveled from his original incarnation) and the two confront the sleeping decoy of a god/grandfather/mummy/monster/alien.

I’m not really clear on the religious intricacies playing out. For instance, I’m not sure what the role of the chanting monk is and why they need both him and the Queen of Years. I’m not even really sure what the Queen of Years is supposed to do other than sing her song once every thousand years or so at the festival. Is she supposed to live out her life after her performance in the golden pyramid singing lullabies to Grandfather? It would be interesting to know what the actual beliefs and ceremonies and rituals and day to day workings of this religious order are, but I suppose none of that is necessary for the unfolding drama. Some information might have been useful for the Doctor, however.

“Actually, I think I may have made a bit of a tactical boo-boo.”

The Doctor’s misinterpretation, or Merry’s sour note, or the awakened decoy alarm clock, or something has roused the real god/grandfather/monster. And according to the Doctor’s best guess he is going to consume all of the seven worlds.

This is another stunning effect of a fireball/sun/giant jack-o-lantern in the sky. The Doctor stands before the great pumpkin and delivers his stirring monologue while the congregation’s song swells behind him. It is Clara, however, who saves the day. Clara and her indigestible leaf; her leaf of infinity; her leaf of “what should have been.”

It is the perfect blend of special effects and emotional wallop; the magic that New Who relies so heavily upon. And like magic the sun implodes, the void it leaves behind having no impact on the seven worlds or the devotees living there.

Dave sat down during the Doctor’s highlight. To give some context, Dave is not a fan of New or Classic Who, however he has seen most of the Eccleston and early Tennant episodes and snatches here and there of Classic and Smith stories; and he saw bits and pieces of the documentary on my Genesis of the Daleks DVD that I just recently watched. After a few moments viewing he offered this (paraphrased) comment: ‘I think Classic Who is much better than the new show. It’s almost as if the show runners today are appealing to who they think are fans of the Classic show as they perceive those fans were when they were children.’ I’ll put it another way—it is as if they are appealing to the stunted child in adults rather than to the grown-up intelligence of children.

There is nothing wrong with that approach, and the new show excels at it.

I think, Gary, that now I will go and re-watch The Aztecs; a serial for which I have a growing admiration.