belated "A Christmas Carol" meta
Okay, two-quotes-next-to-each-other time (one quote is a spoiler for the Christmas special):
1. Baines/Son-of-Mine, in "Family of Blood":
"He never raised his voice. That was the worst thing. The fury of the Time Lord. And then we discovered why. Why this Doctor, who had fought with gods and demons, why he'd run away from us and hidden--he was being kind."
2. Amy, in "A Christmas Carol" (to Kazran Sardick):
"He was trying to make you a better person. He was trying to do it nicely."
Oh, Doctor. I watched a little bit of the Christmas special again today--not the whole thing, just bits--and Amy's line there really struck me, this time around. Despite all the (real, proper) snow and the sleigh rides on sharks and the singing, there's a surprisingly dark-and-creepy core to the special. Which makes sense, I suppose, since I've read since that Moffat borrowed the idea from a pretty dark story he wrote about the Doctor manipulating and rewriting someone's life in order to get what he needed. What I noticed this time is that that darkness is muted, perhaps, but it's not overlooked: it's still there, lurking in Kazran's protests about the Doctor's actions (the way he refers to his other life as his "real" one, or tells Amy that the Doctor has changed Kazran's life to suit his own needs), and in Amy's inadvertent reminder to us that the Doctor, regardless of how he twirls and grins and rubs noses with snowmen (bless), always has another side--and sometimes he has to use it. It's incredibly screwed up, in a way, that rewriting a man's life is the nice version--but it makes sense, too, because it's not just about Kazran, it's about what the Doctor could have done to him, but didn't. The Doctor, playing Father Christmas, tries to save Kazran, but he's also saving himself.
Perversely, though, the Doctor's actions mean that Kazran's refusal to save the people on the ship actually makes more sense, not less, than his initial refusal. Then, he was just being callous; now, it's clear that part of what he's reacting to, blindly, is anything to do with the Doctor. He hates those adventures, the fact that the Doctor caused him to meet Abigail; he tosses them away in a drawer, with the sonic screwdriver and the souvenirs of all the places they went to, and he shuts his heart the harder for its having been opened once. And the Doctor blunders through the entire episode--utterly sure that he's doing the right thing, and getting it all wrong. If the people on that ship have to die so that Kazran can prove that the Doctor can't rewrite him--and he tells Amy to tell the Doctor that, in pride and spite--then that's what will happen.
Which is why it takes the child, still open, still in flux--the child who still loves the Doctor, not the man who hates and resents him--to show Kazran just how far he's fallen. Kazran's absolutely right; showing him his own future wouldn't have changed anything, because he anticipates it, almost relishes it, in a way: "I'm going to die cold and scared and alone. Everyone does." See? I always knew it would come to this. But the little boy, seeing the man he will become, and unable to recognize himself in that man--only able, disbelieving, to see him as the cruel father he knows--can change things. (Though that change ultimately--and utterly--defeats the Doctor's plan, since Kazran can no longer work the controls. There's a flaw built into the plan the whole time, and the Doctor misses it. And I love that--that fallibility.)
1. Baines/Son-of-Mine, in "Family of Blood":
"He never raised his voice. That was the worst thing. The fury of the Time Lord. And then we discovered why. Why this Doctor, who had fought with gods and demons, why he'd run away from us and hidden--he was being kind."
2. Amy, in "A Christmas Carol" (to Kazran Sardick):
"He was trying to make you a better person. He was trying to do it nicely."
Oh, Doctor. I watched a little bit of the Christmas special again today--not the whole thing, just bits--and Amy's line there really struck me, this time around. Despite all the (real, proper) snow and the sleigh rides on sharks and the singing, there's a surprisingly dark-and-creepy core to the special. Which makes sense, I suppose, since I've read since that Moffat borrowed the idea from a pretty dark story he wrote about the Doctor manipulating and rewriting someone's life in order to get what he needed. What I noticed this time is that that darkness is muted, perhaps, but it's not overlooked: it's still there, lurking in Kazran's protests about the Doctor's actions (the way he refers to his other life as his "real" one, or tells Amy that the Doctor has changed Kazran's life to suit his own needs), and in Amy's inadvertent reminder to us that the Doctor, regardless of how he twirls and grins and rubs noses with snowmen (bless), always has another side--and sometimes he has to use it. It's incredibly screwed up, in a way, that rewriting a man's life is the nice version--but it makes sense, too, because it's not just about Kazran, it's about what the Doctor could have done to him, but didn't. The Doctor, playing Father Christmas, tries to save Kazran, but he's also saving himself.
Perversely, though, the Doctor's actions mean that Kazran's refusal to save the people on the ship actually makes more sense, not less, than his initial refusal. Then, he was just being callous; now, it's clear that part of what he's reacting to, blindly, is anything to do with the Doctor. He hates those adventures, the fact that the Doctor caused him to meet Abigail; he tosses them away in a drawer, with the sonic screwdriver and the souvenirs of all the places they went to, and he shuts his heart the harder for its having been opened once. And the Doctor blunders through the entire episode--utterly sure that he's doing the right thing, and getting it all wrong. If the people on that ship have to die so that Kazran can prove that the Doctor can't rewrite him--and he tells Amy to tell the Doctor that, in pride and spite--then that's what will happen.
Which is why it takes the child, still open, still in flux--the child who still loves the Doctor, not the man who hates and resents him--to show Kazran just how far he's fallen. Kazran's absolutely right; showing him his own future wouldn't have changed anything, because he anticipates it, almost relishes it, in a way: "I'm going to die cold and scared and alone. Everyone does." See? I always knew it would come to this. But the little boy, seeing the man he will become, and unable to recognize himself in that man--only able, disbelieving, to see him as the cruel father he knows--can change things. (Though that change ultimately--and utterly--defeats the Doctor's plan, since Kazran can no longer work the controls. There's a flaw built into the plan the whole time, and the Doctor misses it. And I love that--that fallibility.)