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I’m rather fond of this episode: it’s from the
Doctor Who tradition that brings us stories like “Paradise Towers” and “The
Rings of Akhaten”, pieces of children’s theare that embrace the strangeness and
wonder of Doctor Who, and use the show’s format to pitch unusual and
fascinating ideas in a unique form. In many ways, it’s one of the most
experimental episodes the show has done, in a way that “Midnight”, “Listen”,
and “Heaven Sent” simply aren’t. It isn’t quite as well realised as “Paradise
Towers” (an underrated gem), or “The Rings of Ahkhaten”: the final scene is
particularly jarring, being both structurally weak and morally crass, and a
handful of lines, such as “you find yourself with a strangely compelling
masculine figure”, really don’t fit, and Doctor Who isn’t quite capable of doing
this story on a BBC budget, as the forest fails to be the haunting, wild thing
Cottrell Boyce was going for, and instead is clearly just a few fake signs
stuck in a location shoot. But it works quite well overall, having real charm,
solid character work for the regulars, and some fascinating themes and ideas
for what is clearly conceived of and played as as the children’s television
episode. If this is what the show is doing in its child oriented episodes
instead of bog standard monster plots like “The Sontaran Stratagem/ The Poison
Sky”, then that’s not a bad thing at all.
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At the heart of this episode is William Blake,
with the narrative of the episode clearly evoking the poet’s songs of innocence
and experience. They are most obviously referenced in the title, a quote from
Blake’s “The Tyger”, and the tiger that menaces Clara, the Doctor, and Maeve, also
a reference to that poem. Children’s point of view is key to the story, a fact
highlighted by the numerous children’s POV shots used throughout the episode,
further emphasizing the tension between innocence and experience that animates
both the story and Blake’s poetry. Finally, the voices Maeve hears are linked
to the visions Blake had, visions that probably came from a mental illness, but
also inspired him to write incredible poetry. The episode ties itself to a
literary tradition, but to a part of that tradition that is very much about the
divide between childhood and adulthood, and links the main child character in
the story to the author of that work: blurring the lines between complexity and
childishness: complex and powerful experiences and stories are the province of
children as well as adults. This is an episode that seeks to empower children,
and to highlight the importance of their perspective on the world.
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Maeve’s link to William Blake leads us to
discussion of the episode’s portrayal of mental illness, which isn’t an easy
thing to unpack. There are, perfectly reasonable, criticisms of the episode
that claim it presents taking medication to help treat mental illness in an
irresponsibly negative light, but overall, in spite of my discomfort with some
of the dialogue chosen, I don’t feel that’s what the episode has to say about
mental health. It’s not arguing that giving people with mental health issues
medication is a bad idea, but that using medication without being willing to
look at the deeper causes of mental illness isn’t good enough. And there's value in
saying that we shouldn't pathologise neuroatypical people to fit them into a
box. Yes, taking meds is important, and a line that says "don't give her
the medication" is dangerous in a society that unfairly demonizes taking
antidepressants, but we also live in a culture that tries to make neuroatypical
people who don't fit behavioral patterns we're comfortable with fit into a neat
box, instead of listening to them, and trying to understand what they need.
It's railing against surface level responses to mental illness, and that's
important.
·
Moffat has said that any episode of Doctor Who
that features the line “catastrophe is the metabolism of the universe” must be
a beautiful episode, and I’m not inclined to disagree. And that line neatly summarizes
the central ecological theme of the episode: life is set in motion by
uncontrollable catastrophe, and sometimes all we can do is watch, and not give
in to fear. Emerging in, and central to, this theme is the literary trope of
the forest as a liminal space: somewhere between two previously separate
worlds, that allows for change and transformation. On this occasion, the forest
blurs the lines between the untamed natural world and the order of human
society, as it becomes a source of social and personal transformation for the
“Coal Hill Gifted and talented”: children with behavioral issues and mental
illnesses who have been given up on by society. They are far more at home in a suburban
society literally torn up at the roots by natural chaos, so they are able to
save the day by showing normal society, which has responded to the forest by
trying to burn it down, that the forest is nothing to be afraid of. However,
the literary tradition that features the forest as a liminal space that turns
social rules upside down is almost always resolved in the same way: the return
to ordinary society after leaving the forest, here seen in the Balcony scene,
where the Doctor and Clara watch the forest fade away. The Doctor tells Clara
“forgetting is the human superpower. Without it, you’d never have wars. Or
babies”, something that reads as a mournful reflection on our own refusal to
save our planet in the face of global warming. Even though the Earth’s
resources for us are running out at a rapid pace, every day we summon up the
human superpower of forgetting, giving ourselves permission to not think of
humanity’s mistreatment of this planet. But there is a thread of hope amidst
the mournfulness. Change is not entirely impossible: the human race will
forget, but Clara remembers, and the children will, too, having saved the world
and found healing in the forest. The chance for change lies with future
generations, if only we listen to the needs they express now, no matter how
uncomfortable they are for us to hear.
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The solid core for this episode, holding it
together in its weaker moments, comes in the form of crucial development for
Clara, Danny, and the Doctor. Significantly Doctor echoes Clara’s words from
“Kill the Moon”, acknowledging that he is a part of Earth, and continuing his
thawing out from the start of the season. Danny finds out Clara is still
travelling with the Doctor, and asks that she open up to him, but only when
she’s ready. We also see more of his worldview in the “There are wonders here”
speech: he prefers to focus on the small things as a way of dealing with his
trauma, admitting he didn’t try hard to survive the war he fought in, but as
he’s still alive, he wants to make the most of what he has in front of him.
Most interesting, though, is Clara’s development. She is initially distracted
by forest when Danny is focused on Saving the kids: her excitement at the
mystery distracts from her duty of care, cited in “Kill the Moon”: she is
slowly drifting away from the things that tie her to life on Earth. She also
continues to show Doctor-like qualities when she tricks the Doctor into getting
to the TARDIS for his own safety, an action that resembles what he did to try
and save her in “The Time of the Doctor”, though just as Clara came back to
save the Doctor in “Time”, the Doctor comes back to save Clara here. Their
similarities are becoming increasingly clear, as both continue to mimic and
take on the worldview of the other.
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Ultimately, the episode is best defined by the
quote “Fear less, trust more”, a statement that binds the thematic strands,
plot threads, and character beats of the episode together: people’s response to
Maeve’s illness, humanity’s response to the forest, Clara struggle to open up
to Danny, and the coal hill students, all evidence fear in the face of the
unknown, be it admitting to messing up in a relationship, seeing the natural
world do things we don’t understand, or children who don’t fit the ideal of
what society expects them to be. Every time, the correct response to fear is
trust, and a search for understanding.
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