Getting the gig to write for Doctor Who is a truly liberating experience whatever the media, but especially so when you are used to writing popular TV dramas that adhere to the rules of known science and to the logic of cause and effect. After all, the writer is gloriously free to imagine the most implausible of scenarios because (s)he can always find a way of making sense of it within a universe of infinite possibilities.
Over the years the show has tackled the relationship between science and magic in different ways. From the demythologising scientific explanations so prevalent in the Pertwee era to the increasingly esoteric and open-ended acceptance of transcendence in the McCoy era, a range of different viewpoints have been proffered.
This season whilst Moffat may have moved away from what he described as the fairy tale approach of the Matt Smith series, the show has maintained a preference for fantasy over science. Comic-book situations that look fantastic are the order of the day, showcasing the skills of a remarkable creative design team.
As in Kill The Moon the science of In The Forest Of The Night is dubious to say the least. Both stories work backwards from a central image-based idea, the one of the moon as an egg in the process of hatching and the other of the trees acting as the earth’s airbag to save it from a solar flare. Both episodes will no doubt be called atypical, but in a fifty year old program that has brought us the likes of The Celestial Toymaker, The Mind Robber, Inferno, Warriors Gate, Ghostlight, The Girl Who Waited and The Doctor, The Widow and The Wardrobe there has always been room for the more experimental of stories, in some ways it is these that set it apart from other science fiction series and such occasional forays are quintessential to Doctor Who as a whole. But to coin a phrase of Barry Letts’ every story has to answer the fundamental question “what is the point?” What is the glue that holds a story together and keeps the viewer hooked to the climax?
A message about our ordinary superpowers, showing our children that even their weaknesses can become lifesaving?
In Kill The Moon the answer was immediately apparent, it was a story about trust and independence, what matters is the changing relationship between Clara and the Doctor. When it comes to asking what matters in Frank Cottrell Boyce’s story, at first the tree theme might suggest an ecological message, but upon closer inspection that message dissipates along with the trees themselves into the fairy dust. Perhaps then it is a message about our ordinary superpowers, showing our children that even their weaknesses (including conditions labelled as abnormal) can become lifesaving. However, Clara admits to having lied to the children in order to make them think they are special and the Doctor does not correct her pessimistic stance. Or perhaps it is a message about trusting that things will work out for good, discovering that those things we think are there to harm us might be for our benefit, and yet the reverse is the case in this story when it comes to Maebh’s medication.
The adult notion that the pills do not always work, addressing as they do symptoms rather than causes, is a laudable one, but surely misplaced in a child centred episode of a family TV show. There are some things the Doctor should not be a Doctor of - including real life ailments or conditions. If told more responsibly with time given for a fuller explanation then the message could have been an effective one. Instead, what we have is likely to cause a number of complaints being lodged with the BBC by troubled parents or even health organisations.
Overall then, the story is confusing not because of the strange science but because the messages it offers are mixed ones. Mixed messages and relativity might be part of the fabric of our reality but they do not work in a forty-five minute story without deconstructing it into a mish mash of ideas.
Let’s be clear, the idea is an ingeniously clever one and a visual masterpiece. The direction of newcomer Sharee Folkson is stunning and helps to raise the episode so that is not quite such a let down from the recent run of strong stories. The acting too is of an equally high order, no mean feat with so many child roles. The dysfunctional and diverse pupils that make up Danny’s “team” come across wonderfully well and no doubt children will see their peers if not themselves in some of them.
[Danny] comes across as the perfect boyfriend and is eminently likeable as the perfect pupil-centric teacher.
The characterisation of the three lead roles takes an unexpected turn considering the general direction of the series. Although Clara received short thrift at the end of the previous episode (Flatline) with the implication that the Doctor does not trust her, we are nonetheless misdirected to think that Danny Pink is the disruptive influence. However, in In The Forest Of The Night he comes across as the perfect boyfriend and is eminently likeable as the perfect pupil-centric teacher. Clara is seemingly, no longer torn between travelling with The Doctor and retiring from the TARDIS to spend more time with Danny. But it is Clara’s assessment of the Doctor that is the most out of kilter with the rest of the series
Surprisingly Clara leads The Doctor to the TARDIS on the false pretense that he will be saving the rest of the school party and not his own skin. The fact that she would think this of him after recent events is hard to accept. Missy’s expression of surprise as she watches the events unfold may perhaps include Clara’s tactics. The Doctor here is again awkward and alien, especially when reaching out to Maebh but the characterisation is less sinister this time around, with him lacking not empathy, but social etiquette and communication skills.
The Doctor is more accepting of planet earth and its pudding brains in a script that may have worked better for Matt Smith’s more child amenable Doctor. The man who once claimed to be a citizen of the universe can say here with fondness and concern for its demise that “this is my world too. I walk the earth, I breathe your air” It is one of Capaldi’s stronger lines in a script that has fewer rich pickings for him to work his magic upon. And yet there are some wonderful Twelfth Doctor moments especially when as he watches the solar flare hit the earth he confesses “I hope I’m right, slightly awkward if the world is destroyed at this point.” And his most profound lines about fairy tales consisting of those things, like the forest, which keep us awake at night, the sum of all our fears, are delivered pitch perfect.
The singer Dave Rotheray, once of The Beautiful South wrote a song entitled Sweet Forgetfulness, a song that places an ironic positive spin on Alzheimer’s disease. In life there are such things as blessings in disguise, but these are few and far between. For the Doctor apparently the human capacity to forget is indeed a real blessing, no irony intended – it is even our superpower, enabling us to move forward and get over world altering events. Like the message about not taking the pills, this one has potentially negative applications in the wrong situations. It seems to portray a world that can be fixed without any mopping up (just as the trees magically disappear and leave London and the world back to normal). The ending when the runaway older sister returns, is at least consistent with this naive idea that past mistakes can be immediately resolved. The psychology of the episode was more of a concern than the pseudo-science and physics (the Doctor is quite right, he and the show are better at fighting monsters) and manifested itself in other ways, including for instance the children wanting their Mummies as opposed to their Daddies, reinforcing a long disproved stereotype.
It would be a disservice to the strong foundational idea behind the story and it’s excellent realisation on the screen to overly dwell on the exciting Next Time Trailer. But if truth be told this was a highlight, if only for the fact that next week is the first of the two part finale, and the trailer is surprisingly revelatory about Clara.
Whilst the reviewer takes issue with some of the psychology of the story and the lack of clear messages, its strengths lie in its visual beauty and the wonderful characterisations. As a Father of seven it is perhaps not surprising that the voices of the children themselves in Cottrell Boyce’s script are strongly realistic. The salvific speech of Maebh that is transmitted around the world is beautifully written in an age specific way. Fairy tales certainly express our primal fears in narrative form, but they very often include children at their very heart. For it is the imagination of our children that can bring hope and a future - protection not from the dangers of solar flares but from the dangers we pose to ourselves.
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