Review of Under the Lake
Warning: This review contains episode-specific spoilers and wild speculation about future episodes.
Sometimes there’s a really good reason that something becomes a trope. Take, for example, Doctor Who‘s well-known “base under siege” story archetype (seen most commonly in the Troughton era). While its frequent use tends to make certain elements easy for the audience to predict (unless actively subverted), the inherent tension of a situation in which a pre-determined, non-expandable set of individuals have to defend themselves against an unknown, mysterious, or seemingly unbeatable enemy can make for a gripping narrative.
Such is the case with Under the Lake. Writer Toby Whithouse (whose previous Who credits include School Reunion and three other episodes) uses the tried-and-true setup to great effect, keeping the crew both separated from outside help and in valid fear for their lives.
Upon first watch, I was so taken with the story, in fact, that I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t like about it. Further thought and a second viewing highlighted a few, but none were enough to dampen my general delight. I can’t even express how refreshing it is to feel so unreservedly pleased with an episode.
The first of the relatively small down sides happened even before the opening credits rolled. While the Drum’s crew was relatively diverse (two white women, three men of color, and one white man (who isn’t technically even part of the crew)), it was still the black guy who was first to die. As a white woman myself, it took me a while to realize that sad truth, and I can’t decide how much it ought to bother me.
Moran was the commanding officer, so in a way the Black Dude Dies First trope is balanced somewhat by the anti-trope of the black guy being in charge. I could also believe that it may simply be an accident of casting (they liked this actor for his reading of the few lines he had and for looming ominously as a ghost), but even if that’s the case, it’s unfortunate that it still fed into the trope (though at least the entire remaining cast wasn’t white).
The next thing that bothered me didn’t actually have anything to do with the episode itself: it was Clara. Stand down, Clara-philes, and hear me out! Although it has sort of been a trend, especially when it got called out last year as a possible “addiction,” the fact that Clara’s reaction to traveling with the Doctor has become ever more flippant (for lack of a better word) grates on me. I know there are fans out there who hated the Rose/Ten pairing in Series Two because they were so smug and self-important (in the eyes of those viewers); how is Clara trying to high five the Doctor because they landed in another adventure any better?
At least the Doctor tries to address the issue to a degree. “Don’t go native,” he tells her. “There’s only room for one ME.” Hallelujah! Preach! While I agree that making things all about the Doctor’s mysterious personal history doesn’t make for a strong show, neither does shunting him to the side while his Companion does all the heavy lifting. I don’t want it all to be about Clara, and—thank dog—this episode wasn’t.
So when the Doctor and Clara arrive, they encounter these creatures that act like ghosts running loose on an underwater base. They’re herded into the hangar to see the odd text left untranslated by the TARDIS, and then chased into a room where the Drum’s crew are hiding. It was already obvious to me at this point in the story, having been introduced to the crew in the pre-credits sequence, that Cass’s special skills as a deaf woman would be needed in order to parse what the ghosts were saying.
And let me pause for a moment just to say how awesome it is to see a deaf character on screen, particularly when the story’s not about being deaf! I adore Cass as a character, not least because she is not one-dimensional. She’s not just her disability; she’s the smartest person in the room (aside from the Doctor, of course). She’s a competent, well-respected officer. She’s not only a leader but a friend to her crew. And she makes good command decisions.
Unlike Pritchard, the greedy idiot from Vector Petroleum (who was practically a copy of Lux from Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead, except there was no CAL for him to save), Cass orders an evacuation when things get hairy. Unfortunately the ghosts are a step ahead of her, so that escape route gets cut off, but at least we know Cass is thinking straight. (An aside: I love that Whithouse has inserted narratively viable reasons to keep the crew in the Drum throughout the episode. First Pritchard orders it (perfectly in character); then they can’t risk giving the ghosts any more cannon fodder; then the Doctor speechifies until no one can possibly leave without feeling weird about it—though at this last, Cass’s reasoning is again from a place of responsibility.)
But what are these “ghosts”? The Doctor himself eliminates several ideas. “They’re not holograms, they’re not Flesh Avatars. They’re not Autons. They’re not digital copies bouncing around the Nethersphere. No, these people are literally, actually dead.” We get some other clues about how they function, too. In a moment of trying to work things out, the Doctor asks, “Why can [the ghosts] only handle metal objects? Oh, I didn’t know I’d noticed that…”
Not only is that a very Doctor-y thing to notice (and a very Doctor-y way to realize it), it points further to these ghosts being some sort of electromagnetic (EM) phenomenon. I’ve no idea what sort of EM thingies they might be, but there’s something wonderfully weird at work.
Speaking of wonderfully weird, I also loved the Doctor’s cards (though I’d love to hear opinions from fans who have reason to use similar things). It says something lovely about the Doctor-Clara relationship that they have worked out this coping mechanism for the difficulties this incarnation has in interacting with people (after his “factory reset”). It also shows that the Doctor is not quite on the same mental/emotional plane as most of the people (particularly humans) he comes across.
Most of all, it implies something to the audience about the situations they’ve been in where such a tool might become necessary. Just imagining the awkwardness that led to these gems makes me giggle.
- I completely understand why it was difficult not to get captured.
- It was my fault, I should have known you didn’t live in Aberdeen.
- I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t care.
- No-one is going to get eaten / vapourized / exterminated / upgraded / possessed / mortally wounded / turned to jelly. We’ll all get out of this unharmed.
- I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ll do all I can to solve the death of your friend / family member / pet. [This last is the one he used, rather than one we read for ourselves.]
It’s once the TARDIS and Drum crews begin to decode the message that the final nit I have to pick arrives. The Doctor claims that “the sword” to which our ghosts refer is actually the three stars of Orion’s Belt viewed end-on as a line, with that line continuing on to point at Earth. But there are all sorts of geometric problems with this idea. First, only two of the three stars of the Belt (the outer two) are even close to the same distance from Earth: roughly 736 lightyears (ly) and 915 ly (which is still some 180 ly difference). The middle star is about 1340 ly distant, meaning there’s no way to line the three up in anything resembling a straight line.
Further, even if one could line the Belt up, Earth would be roughly perpendicular to that line. So there’s absolutely no way to make the sword from the untranslated runes point from Orion to Earth. (Credit where it’s due: Whithouse had the Doctor mention that the “sword point” we see in the constellation Orion is actually the Great Nebula rather than a star itself.) Given the show’s history of questionable science, though, this is a pretty minor issue.
So they find the suspended animation chamber from the spacecraft, but the Doctor’s gut tells him it’s not the pilot inside. The rules of storytelling promise we’ll find out next time what’s there instead, but I’m going to put a guess out there right now. What if it’s the Doctor?
Once the emergency system begins flooding the base, the tension remains high through the end of the episode. As the Doctor and Clara get separated, they put hands to windows in a silent promise to each other: I’ll save you / I trust you. It was so very 42. (Do you suppose the Doctor thought of Martha in that moment as I did?) The audience thus trusts at this point, as Clara does, that the Doctor will do a clever thing and everything will turn out all right.
Except it won’t. Not the way Clara thinks, anyway.
I don’t know about the rest of the audience, but the INSTANT I saw something outside the base, I knew (a) it was a “new “ghost” and (b) who that ghost was. No matter when the audience realizes it, that reveal is astounding and horrifying. I can’t even remember the last time we had a cliffhanger so startlingly stark. I can hardly wait to see how the Doctor dies (without regenerating) and also doesn’t. C’mon, Whithouse—don’t let me down!