Doctor Who’s moral lectures are becoming harder to justify

Doctor Who is having a sensational season, despite the naysayers, but I worry that there are clouds on the horizon. 

Because as good as things have been, the show would be even better if it trusted the audience to understand the moral lesson. 

Ncuti Gatwa has returned for a vibrant second spell as the Doctor opposite new companion Belinda Chandra (Varada Sethu), whose one goal is to get back home. There’s just one problem – the Tardis can’t take her there. 

So far, so exciting. In this series already, the space-and-time-travelling duo have been turned into cartoons, Belinda has almost died, and there’s even been an almost-forced marriage with a vengeful machine. Essentially, it’s gotten weird and wacky, which is Doctor Who at its best.

But in the latest episode written by Pete McTighe, Lucky Day, there’s a hint of a potential issue. 

During Lucky Day, we checked in with season one companion Ruby Sunday with a poignant portrayal by Millie Gibson of her PTSD after travelling on the Tardis and joining UNIT on her return to Earth.

She forms a romantic connection with podcaster Conrad (Jonah Hauer King) who reveals his true colours pretty quickly – he’s actually a conspiracy theorist who believes UNIT is faking the existence of alien life and is determined to take them down.

After the villainous Conrad is apprehended at the end, the Doctor flies in for one last monologue where he berates the former for his harmful behaviour, telling him he’s ‘special for all the wrong reasons’.

During his speech, the Doctor, who portrays himself as standing up for ordinary people, slams ‘cowards weaponising lies’ for ‘taking people’s insecurities and fears and making it currency’. 

It’s a powerfully acted moment from Ncuti (which just about salvages it for me), but the content of the speech itself does leave something to be desired.

It almost feels like unnecessary repetition, hammering home the point of the episode, by directly addressing the viewer, rather than conveying the message via action and dialogue. 

The on-the-nose explanation, as though it doesn’t trust the viewers to understand the themes of the episode, could have been improved by focusing on the Doctor’s wrath at his friend being hurt and defending Ruby.

And perhaps the monologue would have landed better if it didn’t feel like there was similar scripting in nearly every episode this season, banging the point over the audience’s head. 

Sometimes it is needed, but sometimes the context can do the talking. 

For example, in Lux, although addressing segregation in 1950s America is necessary (and it’s powerful for the Doctor to stand against it), it seemed strange to explain to Belinda why they weren’t allowed to sit in a certain section, when she would surely already know – it was a small moment that came across as unnatural.

And in Robot Revolution we’re told that Al is an incel despite all the creepy behaviour that we saw just half an hour earlier. 

In the Christmas special, Joy to the World, it’s made clear multiple times that the Doctor is lonely, only for Joy to use her final words to tell the Doctor he is… you guessed it… lonely.

The first season is no different from the lengthy speech about loving yourself in Space Babies to both the Doctor and Ruby reiterating the point that Ruby’s biological mum being completely ‘ordinary’ is the reason why she is so wonderful.

Of course, as a family show, there needs to be a certain level of exposition to make sure the message is translating to all age ranges but the show has proven its mastery at allegory and subtextual plotting before with episodes like Boom Town and Dalek which explored the morality of killing an enemy without quarter. 

And Waters of Mars, which reckoned with the Doctor’s dangerous penchant for power trips when left alone too long. 

Of course, there are episodes scattered throughout the show where the message is laid out in explicit or even clunky terms. 

However, the impact of the past two seasons’ big moments – like Dot and Bubble’s outrage and the Doctor’s anger in Lucky Day has been dampened by spoon-feeding the point almost every episode.

Especially in Lucky Day, where there’s been far more discourse on the impact of UNIT’s perceived untouchability as a military organisation (which will hopefully be explored in the spin-off, The War Between the Land and the Sea) than on whether Conrad was good or bad by the end (spoiler, he’s bad).

This is certainly not a criticism of the show’s attempt to explore difficult topics, from racism to the dangers of online conspiracy. It’s what the sci-fi series has always stood for and that shouldn’t go away anytime soon, despite what angry anti-woke critics claim. 

But giving a lighter touch to exposition and moral diatribe and more gravitas to the complexities that it offers, while trusting Ncuti’s ability to convey emotion with one simple look, would go a long way in making the episodes flow by without feeling slightly patronised.

Nor is it asking for it to be thrown out entirely.

As mentioned, the show does have a long history of making the point explicit. But making it slightly rarer with a nuanced delivery will allow those necessary end-of-episode and small moments to feel all the more powerful.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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