Grown-ups of Time
I recently finished Series 4 of the revived Doctor Who. In many ways, the finale wrapped up and tied together the last four years of programming, as Russell Davies is moving on to other projects. The finale was a slam-bang affair, one comparable to ST:TNG’s “The Best of Both Worlds” in breathtaking moments and an edge-of-the-seat cliffhanger. However, the finale underscored certain themes of Davies that I hope to see put to rest.
Originally, the Doctor was a political fugitive from his people, but he eventually evolved into a crusader of Time and Space, saving individuals and entire planets from oncoming disaster. His fourth incarnation sacrificed himself to save the existence of the universe from one man’s foolishness. The Doctor was clearly fulfilled by his never-ending quest.
When the Doctor returned to television, he was in some ways a broken man. He had been at least partially responsible for the destruction of his race in an attempt to prevent an apocalypse (a futile attempt, as it turned out). Other characters made much about the Doctor as the bringer of Death. Of course, he repeatedly staves off even greater death and destruction, but apparently one gets minimal points for that.
Rose Tyler’s love healed the Doctor, and in fact he began to return the emotion openly for the first time in the 40-year history of the show. But he then regenerated into a new body and personality, and Rose was forced to leave him, and he sank into depression and despair. The crusader of Time and Space was replaced by a sad, lonely immortal who kept on keeping on mainly because he didn’t have anything better to do.
When the villain of the finale mocks the Doctor for creating a band of “Children of Time”, willing tools who will aid our immortal in the destruction of lives and worlds, it’s completely unfair, and yet the Doctor shows hurt and shame. What he’s really done, of course, is give a succession of companions a broader perspective, the skills and the confidence to defend themselves and their loved ones, and the ability to make the awful decisions at times when the Doctor isn’t around. They are “Grown-ups of Time” now, but the Doctor is too busy wallowing in failure to deal with that.
The new helmsman, Steven Moffat, has written episodes that temporarily bring back the crusader. While Moffat’s Doctor in these tales retains a vulnerability that the older series did not give him, he remembers his role as the defender of Life, and revels in the challenge. I absolutely hope that future seasons return to that philosophy, as the worn-out, depressed Doctor is a shadow of the beings he once were, and I become sadder with every episode in which he flails about desperately.
Why have I gone on at length about this? Because the older Doctors, the Fourth especially, represent in many ways the person I’ve always wanted to be. Assertive, cheerful, full of wonder, and up to the challenges of life. Frankly, the Doctor these days has a far emptier life than I do, and it’s hard to see the fictional hero I’ve felt so connected to suffer so. I guess this is something of a “Get Well” card to my old hero.
Further points, with spoilers, below
