December 18: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy Parts Three & Four

The Captain and Mags. (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy
Part Three) ©BBC

One of the impressive things about this story that I didn't mention last time is how good the characterization is.  You really get a sense of who these people are -- Bellboy, who's upset that it's stopped being fun; Morgana, who wants to leave but can't; Deadbeat, whose mind has been fractured by whatever he saw in that well; the Chief Clown, who is a willing partner in the Psychic Circus's killings... everyone is clearly defined, and wonderfully, everyone is well acted. Even characters like the Captain, who's designed to be rather stuffy and tedious, come through better on the other side.  (Incidentally, one of the best bits was something I'd never noticed before: when the Captain begins to launch into another one of his anecdotes while he, the Doctor, and Mags are in the ring, the Doctor interrupts with, "Captain Cook! ... You're not only a scoundrel and a meddling fool, but you're also a crushing bore."  A comment to which one of the robot clowns behind the Captain reacts by placing a shocked hand over its mouth, which genuinely made me laugh.)

It's been suggested that you can read this story as a comment on Doctor Who (so Captain Cook is Star Trek, as someone else who's been all over the galaxy, the Whizzkid is a parody of more obsessive fans ("Although I never got to see the early days, I know it's not as good as it used to be, but I'm still terribly interested"), the Gods of Rrrrrrrrragnarrrrrrrrok are the BBC...), and while that's true -- and some of the dialogue points in that direction -- there's a more interesting way of reading The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.  It's a story about the fading of '60s idealism, and how compromises had to be made as the hippies grew up and settled down.  But whereas The Happiness Patrol was angry in its exploration of its themes, The Greatest Show in the Galaxy is more melancholy; it's not (necessarily) saying that it's a bad thing that the counterculture movement moved on, but that it's sad how that innocence was often exploited by less scrupulous people.  "It was to have been my masterpiece," Bellboy tells Ace about a robot he made, "but like everything else, it was... it was abused and went wrong.  We had such high ideals when we started.  We shared everything and we enjoyed making people happy."  And then later: "They took everything that was bright and good about what we had, and buried it where it will never be found again."

The Chief Clown and his robot minions bid farewell to the Ringmaster
and Morgana. (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy Part Four) ©BBC

In this sense The Greatest Show in the Galaxy succeeds by presenting its theme in a slightly askew way and then exploring it -- making it allegorical rather than a straightforward analysis.  And because it's allegorical, it can have its cake and eat it too: the Doctor might not be able to defeat the capitalist usurping of counterculture imagery in real life, but here he can confront the Gods of Ragnarok (who, fittingly, aren't "interested in beginnings; you're only interested in endings").  They represent the audience, always wanting more -- and note how they're dressed like a typical family in the Psychic Circus -- and becoming angry when their continual quest for entertainment is arrested in some way.  (Representing, perhaps, the public's desire for '60s innocence and psychedelia, repackaged in safe, consumable bundles.  Well, maybe; if we take seriously the suggestion about the theme as being loss of innocence, then the Gods are somewhat difficult to fit into the pattern.  Unless you want to see them as the system that takes everything in, uses it up, and then demands more, but even that's a bit of a stretch, and it doesn't quite match up with the craving for entertainment.  Proof, if nothing else, that this story is operating on multiple levels.)  And since the Gods lack imagination, they can't entertain themselves.  The final confrontation between the Doctor and the Gods is interesting because all the Gods care about is entertainment, and while the Doctor gives them what they want for a while, he decides to leave while he's on top.  "I have fed you enough, Gods of Ragnarok," the Doctor declares, "and you found what I have to offer indigestible.  So I have taken myself off the menu.  La commedia è finita!"¹⁵⁴  And when they turn their ire against him (in the form of lightning bolts), he reflects them back at them, causing them to destroy themselves (in what's a rather nice scene of collapsing masonry and such), while he casually walks away from the exploding circus.¹⁵⁵

The thing that really makes this story work is all the levels it's operating on.  It can be viewed as a simple tale about the Doctor saving a circus from the evil they unleashed.  It can also be viewed allegorically, as I've just described.  But the thing is, The Greatest Show in the Galaxy works from all these viewpoints -- there's something for everyone; even if you're just looking to be scared, there are lots of creepy clowns to fit the bill.  And it's a tribute to everyone involved that this is as successful as it is -- there's hardly a wrong line or move in the entire piece.  Considering the pressures the production was under (the relocation of the studio scenes mentioned last time), the fact that this comes out as well as it does is impressive.  As season 25 began a strong note, so it ends on one as well: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy is a triumph of script, direction, acting, and design.

This means that season 25 gives us a show that's finally back firmly on its feet again.  There were moves in this direction last season, but they were often marred by uncertain presentation and delivery -- there's none of that here.  Season 25 is brimming with energy and self-confidence, and it's also willing to take risks, comfortable in the knowledge that the audience that's still left will come along with them.  It's somewhat difficult to imagine another season with stories as widely different from each other as these four -- but the thing that binds them together, other than the superficial qualities, is that they're almost all about something.  The writers (all new, with the exception of Greatest Show's Stephen Wyatt, who wrote Paradise Towers last season -- but that's still pretty new) have decided to use Doctor Who as a platform for ideas that they can explore, rather than just to write something to fill the time slot.  (In fact, it's worth nothing that the only story that doesn't seem to be also working on a separate level is also the least successful story of the season.)  This gives these stories an added impetus, and happily, the people working on these scripts are on the same page, contributing to the highly successful realization of it all on screen.  Season 25 has Doctor Who back on form again -- now, whether anyone's still watching is a separate problem...







¹⁵⁴ In case you're unaware, this is the final line of Pagliacci.
¹⁵⁵ The story goes that they told McCoy that there would be a small explosion as he walked away.  He apparently wasn't expecting the much larger explosion that actually happened, but to his credit gave no reaction until the take was complete.