two great tastes that go great together?
So yesterday, poor_choices posted some Arcadia fic on tumblr, and because she wants to destroy me, texted me and left me raging at her in capslock over how heartbreakingly good it was. What a jerk.
As I yelled at her over text message, I mentioned one of the things that I love best about the play- the transformation of Septimus Hodge- and why it propels the play into this huge, sweeping romantic stratosphere that you'd never have foreseen. I think that if 90% of the audience doesn't get a crush on Septimus, something has gone awry in your production. He's smart and kind and wry and sarcastic and has a connection to Thomasina that's very special, right away. But he's also very pragmatic and cynical and takes the pleasure that he can where he can, whether or not it's particularly good for him. As the reveal seeps out, however, and we know his full fate- that he loved Thomasina so deeply that he became fanatically devoted to proving her theory after her death, slaving over her equation until he died, and turning from accomplished Oxonian to the mad hermit in the wilderness (or at least, of the Park)... That transformation absolutely slays me every time, and leads to a lot of beating of the breast and gnashing of the teeth because it's not just the gesture- I love you enough to squander my life away to bring you the attention you should have been paid- but that it's SEPTIMUS HODGE who does it. The fact that it happens because he doesn't sleep with Thomasina and so isn't there to blow out that candle (he tries to do the right thing and in a very real way, that's the reason the woman he loves dies)- well, it just adds an extra heap of pathos to the whole thing.
So then last night, I was finishing a rewatch of S5 of Doctor Who, which we all know my feelings about. I absolutely love revisiting it and thinking about how much I loved picking it apart and loving it back together with all of you- I guess it was the last time the majority of the conversation I had or observed was on LJ at all, which is a hell of a thing! I've been thinking a lot about Rory lately- I saw Arthur Darvill at AwesomeCon in DC at the end of May, and he commented at one point during his panel that he agreed that Rory wasn't treated particularly well by Amy. Loving Rory as I do, I paid some extra, conscious attention to him in this season, to the journey he takes and the complexities of his relationship with Amy.
And then I got to the two-part finale and had a Thought.
Rory Williams becomes Rory the Roman becomes the Lone Centurion. He tries so desperately to do the right thing, to be himself and be his BEST self and to overcome the Nestene programming, but he fails and his own, literal hand kills the woman he loves. Luckily- miraculously, if you will- there's hope: Amy can be resurrected by the Pandorica. But Amy will be safer if he can guard her, and so he makes the impossible decision to stay with her for as long as he can, until he breaks down or melts or goes mad from TWO THOUSAND YEARS (a thousand more than the Doctor's been alive) or god only knows what. When Amy awakes, we briefly see how the Lone Centurion kept her safe through almost two millenia, becoming the stuff of legend himself, all because of his absolute devotion to the woman he loves, beyond reason, if not hope itself.
And it sounded a hell of a lot like Septimus Hodge. They seem like two different fairy tales, one that ended in tragedy (although the bigger, wider story shows us hope after all- Thomasina's equation is going to be known after all, proved by Val and his computer if not by Septimus and his algebra) and one that ended happily. Both are stories about someone who sacrifices an easier, more expected path to devote everything that they have and are to the woman who is lost to them. They do it in hope that their sacrifice will be for her gain somehow, bringing her back into the world. Rory does it because he hopes Amy will live again, even when he doubts he'll be there to see the Pandorica open again. Septimus has no such hope that Thomasina will live again except through her genius being recognized, so he will do everything he can to prove that a sixteen year old girl understood the things that philosophers barely dared to guess at.
I said earlier that the impact of Septimus as mathematical hermit is because it's Septimus the cynic, but it's a little different for Rory. Rory is anything BUT a cynic. Rory's the nurse who helps people any way he can, who has been in love with Amy for most of his life, and who is happy wherever he can be at her side, whether that's in the village or across time and space (he's done his research, too, so he knows what he might be getting into there). He doubts himself sometimes, but he never doubts his love for Amy. It's the audience who doubts him- we'd seen "the boyfriend" before and saw him be too afraid, then too resentful to understand what it meant to be a part of someone's life who traveled with the Doctor. Mickey came around eventually, but only because he was forced to change, to become his better self. Rory surprised us because he was already open to possibilities most people couldn't dream of, even as he seemed to staunchly occupy the space of the everyman. He knows the value of what he does, even when the box he makes for himself is consciously small and ordinary.
When Rory comes back as Rory the Roman, his second shot at life is already a miracle, a side effect the universe never intended. You hear critique sometimes about Moffat's Who, that no one is ordinary any more, all the companions are special snowflakes. Not Rory Williams. Rory is as ordinary as they come in his soul, and as absolutely extraordinary as every single human being can be. Rory's choice to stay by Amy's side through hundreds of years of hardship, just to keep her safe, is remarkable BECAUSE he's the everyman. Someone in your own life might be capable of that kind of extraordinary, miraculous love, the kind of love that will wait two thousand years if it means seeing the person they love again. The Doctor likes to tell people to be extraordinary, to be their best; Rory shows us that no matter how small you think you might be, your best can shine almost inconceivably bright.
Septimus Hodge and Rory Williams aren't the likeliest of parallel characters, but when they make the sacrifices they make for the women they love, they shine an interesting light on each other. They are the heroes who wait, who do the impossible because the love they bear is almost impossibly big. Lest we forget, waiting is active, waiting is HARD. They wait because they hope, and they suffer because they love, but ultimately, neither of them waits, or loves, in vain. Their love transforms their world- it just might take a little while.
As I yelled at her over text message, I mentioned one of the things that I love best about the play- the transformation of Septimus Hodge- and why it propels the play into this huge, sweeping romantic stratosphere that you'd never have foreseen. I think that if 90% of the audience doesn't get a crush on Septimus, something has gone awry in your production. He's smart and kind and wry and sarcastic and has a connection to Thomasina that's very special, right away. But he's also very pragmatic and cynical and takes the pleasure that he can where he can, whether or not it's particularly good for him. As the reveal seeps out, however, and we know his full fate- that he loved Thomasina so deeply that he became fanatically devoted to proving her theory after her death, slaving over her equation until he died, and turning from accomplished Oxonian to the mad hermit in the wilderness (or at least, of the Park)... That transformation absolutely slays me every time, and leads to a lot of beating of the breast and gnashing of the teeth because it's not just the gesture- I love you enough to squander my life away to bring you the attention you should have been paid- but that it's SEPTIMUS HODGE who does it. The fact that it happens because he doesn't sleep with Thomasina and so isn't there to blow out that candle (he tries to do the right thing and in a very real way, that's the reason the woman he loves dies)- well, it just adds an extra heap of pathos to the whole thing.
So then last night, I was finishing a rewatch of S5 of Doctor Who, which we all know my feelings about. I absolutely love revisiting it and thinking about how much I loved picking it apart and loving it back together with all of you- I guess it was the last time the majority of the conversation I had or observed was on LJ at all, which is a hell of a thing! I've been thinking a lot about Rory lately- I saw Arthur Darvill at AwesomeCon in DC at the end of May, and he commented at one point during his panel that he agreed that Rory wasn't treated particularly well by Amy. Loving Rory as I do, I paid some extra, conscious attention to him in this season, to the journey he takes and the complexities of his relationship with Amy.
And then I got to the two-part finale and had a Thought.
Rory Williams becomes Rory the Roman becomes the Lone Centurion. He tries so desperately to do the right thing, to be himself and be his BEST self and to overcome the Nestene programming, but he fails and his own, literal hand kills the woman he loves. Luckily- miraculously, if you will- there's hope: Amy can be resurrected by the Pandorica. But Amy will be safer if he can guard her, and so he makes the impossible decision to stay with her for as long as he can, until he breaks down or melts or goes mad from TWO THOUSAND YEARS (a thousand more than the Doctor's been alive) or god only knows what. When Amy awakes, we briefly see how the Lone Centurion kept her safe through almost two millenia, becoming the stuff of legend himself, all because of his absolute devotion to the woman he loves, beyond reason, if not hope itself.
And it sounded a hell of a lot like Septimus Hodge. They seem like two different fairy tales, one that ended in tragedy (although the bigger, wider story shows us hope after all- Thomasina's equation is going to be known after all, proved by Val and his computer if not by Septimus and his algebra) and one that ended happily. Both are stories about someone who sacrifices an easier, more expected path to devote everything that they have and are to the woman who is lost to them. They do it in hope that their sacrifice will be for her gain somehow, bringing her back into the world. Rory does it because he hopes Amy will live again, even when he doubts he'll be there to see the Pandorica open again. Septimus has no such hope that Thomasina will live again except through her genius being recognized, so he will do everything he can to prove that a sixteen year old girl understood the things that philosophers barely dared to guess at.
I said earlier that the impact of Septimus as mathematical hermit is because it's Septimus the cynic, but it's a little different for Rory. Rory is anything BUT a cynic. Rory's the nurse who helps people any way he can, who has been in love with Amy for most of his life, and who is happy wherever he can be at her side, whether that's in the village or across time and space (he's done his research, too, so he knows what he might be getting into there). He doubts himself sometimes, but he never doubts his love for Amy. It's the audience who doubts him- we'd seen "the boyfriend" before and saw him be too afraid, then too resentful to understand what it meant to be a part of someone's life who traveled with the Doctor. Mickey came around eventually, but only because he was forced to change, to become his better self. Rory surprised us because he was already open to possibilities most people couldn't dream of, even as he seemed to staunchly occupy the space of the everyman. He knows the value of what he does, even when the box he makes for himself is consciously small and ordinary.
When Rory comes back as Rory the Roman, his second shot at life is already a miracle, a side effect the universe never intended. You hear critique sometimes about Moffat's Who, that no one is ordinary any more, all the companions are special snowflakes. Not Rory Williams. Rory is as ordinary as they come in his soul, and as absolutely extraordinary as every single human being can be. Rory's choice to stay by Amy's side through hundreds of years of hardship, just to keep her safe, is remarkable BECAUSE he's the everyman. Someone in your own life might be capable of that kind of extraordinary, miraculous love, the kind of love that will wait two thousand years if it means seeing the person they love again. The Doctor likes to tell people to be extraordinary, to be their best; Rory shows us that no matter how small you think you might be, your best can shine almost inconceivably bright.
Septimus Hodge and Rory Williams aren't the likeliest of parallel characters, but when they make the sacrifices they make for the women they love, they shine an interesting light on each other. They are the heroes who wait, who do the impossible because the love they bear is almost impossibly big. Lest we forget, waiting is active, waiting is HARD. They wait because they hope, and they suffer because they love, but ultimately, neither of them waits, or loves, in vain. Their love transforms their world- it just might take a little while.