Rosa
review

Holistic Review: Doctor Who does Timeless in an episode that pays lovely homage to modern hero Rosa Parks, while effectively conveying the terror of racism, and evoking powerfully strong emotions in the audience: visceral revulsion toward prejudice, empathy for its victims, and irrepressible pride in those who fight back against discrimination.

This. This, this, this.

I've been craving a Doctor Who story along these lines since our favorite show returned to TV in 2005. Disappointingly, the series only flirted with telling this kind of racially-aware tale during the Martha Jones and Bill Potts eras. Those small moments of anti-racism moralizing were extremely welcome, but the fact that no previous Doctor Who producer has ever taken advantage of the opportunity to tell a story along these lines — even, and especially, when the regular cast was multiracial — has been a major shameful oversight.

When I half-jokingly suggested last week that Doctor Who might fill the void left by Timeless, I had no idea just how prescient that comment would turn out to be. For those who are sadly uninitiated — seriously, don't even bother finishing this review, just fire it up on Netflix right now — Timeless concerns a rogue vigilante who steals a time machine in order to alter pivotal moments in history for his own mysterious purposes. In an attempt to stop him from changing the present, a trio of experts (a historian, an engineer, and a soldier) are recruited to pursue the rogue using a prototype version of his time machine, and prevent his alterations to the fabric of time, thus keeping established history on track. Season 1 is highly entertaining, but season 2 reaches and maintains absolute brilliance because it consistently tells stories from more diverse points of view. Only one of its ten episodes centers around a straight white male historical figure; every other story highlights someone from a different background — gender, ethnicity, race, and/or sexual orientation — who made a critical, and often underappreciated, contribution to history.

Rosa follows exactly the same lines, by sending the TARDIS crew back to 1955 Alabama, where they eventually discover that their mission is to ensure that Rosa Parks successfully completes her act of civil disobedience. Not only does the story feature a diverse time-travelling team of do-gooders, meeting a woman of color whose importance to history is inestimable, but the structure of the plot is straight out of the Timeless playbook too: the TARDIS crew must protect history from an adversary who, for mysterious purposes, wants to nudge established historical events off their appointed track — in this case, preventing Rosa Parks' bus protest — in order to alter the future. Not only is it a perfect Timeless plot, it's as close as we've come to a Hartnell-era pure historical since 1967: it involves exactly zero alien monsters (just some futuristic tech, and human racism), and it also has a strong educational remit.

Another thing I adored about Timeless, which I mentioned in my review of Thin Ice, was that unlike most other time-travel shows, it regularly depicted how dangerous it was for some of the characters — particularly Rufus, an African-American man — to travel into the past. Time travel, as Rufus put it, is a white man's fantasy. Anyone else venturing into the past risks being threatened with anything from prejudicial mistreatment to murder, simply by virtue of who they are. And this wasn't a one-time "oh look, history is dangerous for black people" special episode. We were reminded in every single episode, in a variety of ways, that Rufus was not as welcome in the past as Wyatt or even Lucy. And who cares if it hammers the same point home over and over again? It's true, it's realistic, and it's important.

So I'm hoping that the same will hold true for Ryan and Yaz' trips into the past, because boy howdy, does this episode ever do an effective job of illustrating the dangers that they face when attempting to navigate a minefield of sociocultural expectations that could easily get them killed if they inadvertently violate the wrong rule. Or possibly for doing nothing at all.

Oddly enough, it's Yaz who serves as the mouthpiece for the traditional view of white male fandom: "Real-life 1950s! Time travel's awesome!" But that sunnily optimistic — or, shall we say, naïve and myopic — outlook is soon shattered. Not much later, Ryan voices his frustration that he doesn't get to enjoy the luxury of simply playing tourist in Earth's past, because for him, here and now, virulent historical racism is all too real: "This isn't history here, Yaz. We're hiding behind bins."

So all praise to multiple-award-winning author Malorie Blackman for finally writing a Doctor Who story that doesn't just tell, but also celebrates, the voices and stories of people of color. Sure, this episode could have been written by a white author, and they might even have raised many of the same points. But the depiction of racism in this story, and the non-white characters' reactions to it, feel that much more authentic coming from the pen of an author who has likely experienced some degree of discrimination herself, and intimately understands the concerns of the affected community. Doctor Who has often depicted despicable bigots before, but never have the repercussions of that bigotry been shown so viscerally. The injustice throughout this episode is almost palpable, as it should be. And it begins in the very first scene, as the driver screams at Parks and hauls her off the bus, then leaves her behind after she's already paid.

In this regard, Ryan's first scene in the past is one of the story's best. As a black millennial who grew up in a much more inclusive society, Ryan isn't automatically guarded against the pitfalls of being black in the Jim Crow era South. So he doesn't think twice about attempting to return a dropped glove, and the simple action of tapping a white woman on the shoulder — while trying to be kind, and do the right thing — gets him violently slapped across the face, in a dramatic slo-mo shot that ensures we the audience feel every millisecond of that slap ourselves. Then, in a moment that made my blood run cold, the woman's husband casually threatens him with a lynching. ("Your boy, he'll be swinging from a tree with a noose for a neckerchief if he touches a white woman in Montgomery!") And we all know that's no idle threat in the South.

After this point, Rosa pulls its punches in order to remain kid-friendly. White characters refer to black characters as "boy" or use the 'polite' n-word, which is bad enough, but you can tell that if this were the real world, they'd be spitting out the slur. Likewise, although Rosa doesn't show us the true depths of horror that racism in the South could spark, it hints at it effectively, with lines like the one above, and the reference to poor Emmett Till. Throughout the story, I remained on edge and alert at all times to the danger hovering over Ryan. I worried for his safety every second, whether he was in the hotel room, walking down the street, or even browsing bus schedules, which he has every right to do in this society... but that doesn't provide any meaningful sense of safety, because he has every right to do everything that white people are doing, and some of them could still get him killed. I was glad that the script hung a bell on it ("If she can live here her whole life, a couple hours ain't gonna kill me. ...It ain't gonna kill me, right?") because that reassured me a bit! Overall, this episode makes gut-wrenchingly vivid the very real threat posed by racist ideologies.

I also appreciate that Rosa subtly attempts to foster empathy in its audience for the reasons why African-American communities often mistrust law enforcement. In this story, it's all too evident that the police are no friends to black people or their allies, as of course was indeed historically true, and in some ways remains true today. It's a great illustration of why the law is not automatically to be revered, or even necessarily trusted. Even aside from the bad-apple issue of racist cops who don't deserve to be on the force, we still see lingering effects of institutionalized racism in the overpolicing of black communities, the levying of inequitable punishments on black and white people convicted of the same crime, increased incarceration rates for African-Americans, racial profiling, the use of excessive and sometimes lethal force against African-Americans who are arrested for minor crimes, and white people calling the cops on black people who are peacefully minding their own business. And yet when African-Americans try to draw attention through peaceful protest to these issues, they're told that they're being un-American. Sadly, as Ryan points out, the messages of Rosa's story remain timely.

There's also a welcome, understated reference to the point that the emotional burden of tense racial encounters is stereotypically regarded (by white people) as being entirely the responsibility of people of color. White people can get as angry as we want, but if a black person expresses similar outrage, they're reduced to a stereotype that's either seen as easily-dismissed (the "angry black woman") or downright dangerous. As Ryan puts it, "Having to work so hard to keep me temper, every second here. I could've slapped that guy back there as soon as we arrived. Thank god my nan taught me how to keep me temper." Ryan's white aggressor is allowed to get as angry as he wants, up to and including threatening Ryan with death (in fact, even carrying out the murder would widely be seen in that day and age as an acceptable response), and Ryan isn't permitted to respond. If he so much as dared to raise his voice, that would've given the white husband all the excuse he needed to quite literally destroy Ryan's life. Even leaving aside the potential outcomes, this inequity is extremely unjust. And that same inequity persists today, along with the similar, though flipped and less extreme, issue of "white tears". If a white person feels personally threatened by a generic discussion about racial frustrations, it's their emotion that seems to be prioritized. Black people are constantly being forced to comfort and reassure white people who are upset about being even tangentially associated with prejudiced views or actions, which derails a potentially productive conversation and re-focuses it on the white person's distress. The consequences to black people of these behavioural patterns may be less severe now than they were in 1955, but the underlying problem remains the same.

That the villain of the piece turns out to be a not-so-closet white supremacist is terribly fitting, if also incredibly depressing, given that we'd all like to imagine a future of perfect racial harmony, at least on Earth. It's like Ryan said: for all the strides she made, Rosa Parks didn't cure racism, and neither have any of the brave men and women who followed in her footsteps. (Yet.) Far-future irrational prejudice is personified by "pretty boy" Krasko (Joshua Bowman), whose killer smile and disarming personality mask the monster within. On the surface he's not just reasonable but charming, and he would come across as quite likeable if he weren't a serial killer. But, as Ace would say, scratch that pleasant veneer and what comes crawling out is vile filth. He might not express his despicable opinions in polite company, but he can't keep his true face hidden, just like the racists we see being emboldened by far-right nationalist demagogues today. He tells Ryan to his face that his goal is to ensure that "your kind won't get above themselves" and that black people (presumably; though he could just conceivably be talking about the human race?) should "Stay in your place." Utterly chilling, and sadly no different from the views that some people today espouse. But he's certainly a compelling villain, and as a character, he's fascinating. A friend of mine accidentally spoiled me on the presence of a Time-Lord-esque villain in the story, so I was relieved to find that Krasko's Masterish vibe was brought up and then dismissed very early on. In fact, he bears much greater similarities to the Meddling Monk than the Master, though I got a much stronger whiff of Time Agent from him, given his vortex manipulator and familiarity with TARDISes, but I doubt the Time Agents would employ a mass murderer. So the story he gives the Doctor is more likely the truth: that he's a "reformed" prisoner and rogue vigilante who obtained his vortex manipulator, and probably his temporal displacement weapon, through the prison black market. I have to say that, thanks to a combination of the intriguing hints we're given about Krasko's backstory (and the huge questions that still hang over him) and Bowman's charismatic performance, I'm really hoping he'll turn out to be a recurring villain. I'm kind of surprised I warmed to him so quickly, much more than I ever warmed to the comparable adversaries in Timeless. Besides, he's owed some major comeuppance. Bowman's performance is one that you can't take your eyes off; I do love an actor with an expressive face. Loved the authentic way Bowman chews his toothpick, plus his delivery of "If I see any of you again, I will kill you.", "I was young. Nobody got hurt. Well, a few people got killed. A few hundred people, thousand tops. Two thousand.", "You think that makes a difference?", and the shot of Krasko quaking with rage as the repaired bus drives past him.

On first viewing, I had a few mild potential criticisms of the story, but on further reflection, I realized that they were all deliberate and carefully-crafted inclusions.

First, the opening scene felt a bit out of place. Parks' refusal to give up her seat is now famous, and undoubtedly the moment toward which the entire episode is building — but for a moment, the teaser makes us think that moment is about to happen ten years too early with no build-up at all. In other words, it seemed as if Rosa was about to shoot its most valuable bolt in the introduction rather than the climax, thereby stealing its own thunder. And anyway, I wondered, did it really happen? Was Parks making small acts of resistance for 10 years before white people finally called the cops on her? Well, turns out, that entire scene is straight out of history: 12 years before Rosa's arrest, James Blake did force her off the bus, then drove away as she was trying to re-embark through the "colored" entrance. And even if it hadn't been true, this scene serves to establish the rules for a black woman living in mid-century Montgomery, and hints at the resistance brewing in Rosa's mind as well as the manner in which it might ultimately manifest.

Second, some of the anti-racism dialogue feels a bit too on-the-nose, or as we say in the US, too "after-school special". The scene that jumped out me in particular was Ryan and Yaz' conversation behind the dumpster, but the coda's a bit on the nose too. However: in an episode like this, it's important to educate the audience about what actually happened, and to be explicit about the fact that racism isn't simply a historical problem. It's still affecting people today, despite the head-in-the-sand attitude of those who prefer to believe that we're living in a "post-racial society" nowadays. Those people very well might be watching Doctor Who, which traditionally appeals to people across the political spectrum and has often been an unthreateningly escapist program, so this is a great opportunity to illustrate to that segment of the fanbase just how racism still affects good people. So I can easily forgive an occasional lack of subtlety. Sure, it might be better to tell rather than show, but these heart-to-heart conversations reinforce and hammer home a very important message.

Third, I wished that the story had made clearer what exactly motivated Rosa to choose that precise moment to refuse to comply. Ryan encourages Rosa that things will get better and that the fight is worthwhile, which might have strengthened her resolve to protest, but no explicit cause-and-effect is shown. Typically, in a well-written story, you want to understand a character's motivations, and what compels them to take the actions that they do. Additionally, in Doctor Who, it's crucial that the Doctor and her companions influence the action, instead of being mere observers whose presence has no effect on the story's outcome.

But that's where Rosa is so particularly, deeply, brilliant. Because what I was painfully slow to realize is that this episode isn't the Doctor's story, nor should it be. This story is all about Rosa Parks, and her utterly heroic, and utterly real-life, decision to take a stand for her beliefs. Nobody told the real Rosa Parks what to do. Nobody let slip the perfect motivational speech at just the right time. Rosa Parks didn't need inspiration from anyone else that day (though she was inspired by previous like-minded protests on other buses). There was no inciting incident, just a tipping point at which she simply couldn't take it any longer. Rosa Parks did the right thing, all by herself, just because it was right, despite the very real threat of personal harm. Implying that the Doctor and her friends were in any way responsible for Rosa's actions would have been a grave mistake, taking credit and agency away from a very brave real-life woman of color, and giving it instead to a (white) fictional character.

Instead, Rosa takes a different tack, which is not only perfect but also heartbreaking. Krasko has managed to nudge the course of history just enough that the bus has picked up three fewer white passengers than it needs for the driver to demand that the black passengers move to the back. But nobody accounted for the fact that the Doctor, Graham, and Yaz would be riding in the "whites only" section, keeping tabs on Rosa and their mission. So when Graham jumps up, thinking their mission accomplished, just as a white lady boards the bus and takes his seat — the last seat — suddenly Graham becomes the plus-one who forces the black passengers to move. And dear Graham, dear racially-sensitive Graham, would do anything rather than be the unrecorded white man who made Rosa Parks move. I completely sympathize with his desire not to play that role in history, and yet for the sake of history, he must. The resulting scene absolutely crushed me:

What a brilliant, twist-of-the-knife moment. I had thought that perhaps Graham would try to convey his anguish to Rosa with a look, or a desperate shake of his head, but it's good that Rosa doesn't look at him — either to accuse him of betraying her, or for him to silently protest his lot — because her choice remains entirely her own, uninfluenced by the people around her. It would have been all too easy to write a story in which the TARDIS crew inspired Rosa to stand her ground. Instead, Blackman found a way to make the TARDIS crew integral to the resolution without influencing Rosa's decision.

While we're on the topic, I must also praise Rosa for effectively breaking the Curse of Three Companions, and reminding us all how effortlessly it used to be done during the Hartnell era. Blackman makes certain that each of the companions contributes usefully throughout the story, which results not only in numerous moments for them all to shine, but significant character development for each one. The characterization in this story is just superb, very often gleaned from subtle details rather than in-your-face exposition. In fact, my only real complaint — possibly my only real complaint about the entire story — is that I'm a bit sad they don't change into 1950s clothing (particularly Yaz, who probably stands out a bit in trousers).

As the character whose lived experience is most similar to Rosa's, Ryan is rightfully the central regular in this week's story, and also, as a fantastic bonus, he's the audience identification figure, even for those of us who aren't black. (imagine that! being able to identify with someone who doesn't look like you, and to feel what it's like to walk in their shoes!) Tell me you didn't feel the weight of that slap right along with Ryan, or a rush of impotent rage every time the bus driver yelled at Rosa. Much has been said about the entertainment industry's tendency to assume that everyone will be able to identify with a white lead character, but that white audiences are reluctant to watch, or relate to, media featuring a black lead. To which, of course, the black community rightfully objects: if we can do it, why on earth can't you? So here's Doctor Who, quietly adding to the increasing number of programs that require their audiences to empathize with a non-white lead, not only throughout this season but specifically in an episode about prejudice, which many white people have never had to deal with personally, certainly not racial prejudice at least. Here's hoping that some of the audience developed greater empathy for the former and current plights endured by communities of color.

Happily — and no surprise, with Blackman behind the wheel — the script doesn't treat Ryan as a "model minority". Though he's experienced discrimination in his life, it's clear that, growing up in the post-civil-rights era, he's been sheltered from the worst of it. As such, Ryan isn't as intimately familiar with the sacrifices that his predecessors made in the fight for equality; I'm reminded of the way modern gay youth are criticized for being ignorant about, even dismissive of, gay civil rights pioneers and the massive impact that the AIDS crisis had on LGBT communities and attitudes toward safer sex. So it feels very naturalistic that Ryan doesn't know the story of Rosa Parks (because "she's American!"), which as a result facilitates the necessary exposition. The icing on the cake is that the story doesn't limit Ryan's involvement to just being the audience-identification character; Ryan also gets some character development in his own right. We're starting to get the sense that he's an incorrigible tinkerer, which fits with his training as a mechanic. Ryan just can't seem to resist touching and trying to operate any new device he sees. He also seems to be the most impetuous and rash member of the group, given his "storming the castle" shoot-em-up last week, and his confrontation of Krasko this week. I was initially gobsmacked that Ryan had zapped Krasko elsewhere in time, and wondered how the Doctor would react. But I guess it was better than killing him (probably), and it gives him the possibility to recur. Having dispatched Krasko, Ryan promptly clears the road to make way for the bus — this is a lot of heroic moments in one story — then boards it just in time to watch history being made. And I adored that when the Doctor asked for suggestions, both Ryan and Yaz instantly came up with an idea for how to nudge history back on track. Love Cole's delivery of "I understand 'weapon', but not sure about 'temporal displacement'" (as if he's really trying to understand, not just being flippant), his expression after "Also, don't think they know any black guys" (no wonder he charms Rosa), "Thank you. For me and me nan.", his smile when Rosa says that she hasn't done anything, his sweet "Goodnight, ma'am." to Rosa, and "Good! Here we go!"

Yasmin finally gets some welcome depth this week. Some of it reinforces what we already knew about her, like her shared childhood with Ryan as they bond for a moment over Danny Biswas. Her police training is not only brought up, but used as an asset: Yaz employs procedural methodology to cross-reference telephone books and create a timeline (with strings and everything!) of the day that Rosa Parks carries out her bus protest, she leaps into action and herds Ryan into the bathroom when trouble comes a-knockin', and she (perhaps unwisely) intercedes in the altercation between Ryan and the racist jerk on the sidewalk in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. But we also learn some new details about her personality. For one, she's an innate optimist, which I had suspected but am very glad to have confirmed. I think that's why I instinctively gravitate toward her. Perhaps unexpectedly, Yaz reveals an ambitious side, readily admitting to Rosa that she wants to be "in charge". She also appears to be the most historically savvy of the three, at least when it comes to Rosa Parks, remembering details of her story that the others don't. And finally, it's confirmed that Yaz is of Pakistani heritage, and evidently Muslim to boot. Hooray! I don't believe we've ever had a companion who explicitly mentioned being part of a faith community, except perhaps for Peri (once, by implication); and presumably, given the church where Grace's funeral was held, Ryan and Graham are Christian if anything, so it's nice that the new crew has a bit of religious diversity too. Tying into the themes of this story, Yaz' religion is still enough of a background detail that we don't get any firsthand evidence of the discrimination she's faced as a result, but her status as a woman of color does lead to her being repeatedly misidentified as "Mexican" (currently, though perhaps not in the '50s, the most-discriminated nationality in the US, and the label that uninformed Americans are most likely to slap on anyone of Latinx heritage). And I love love love that this episode also addresses how Yaz, an Anglo-Pakistani woman, copes with the binary racial classifications of the 1950s South. On the downside, I'm starting to get the worrying feeling that Mandip Gill might not be the most convincing actress among the TARDIS crew — some of Yaz' lines during her heart-to-heart with Ryan, plus the scene in which she tries to decide where to sit on the bus, seemed a bit forced. But then she does get most of the sledgehammer-exposition-y dialogue, which probably doesn't help. Still, I enjoyed her delivery of "No, Ryan!", "Must be my Mexican blood." (I laughed!), "Hi! Nice to see you again.", "I'll wait.", and "Mrs Parks fixed your coat."

As a white man, Graham's first thought on learning they've arrived in 1955 is not fear for his safety, but rather a classic Doctor Who reaction: he wants to see Elvis in concert. Still, to be fair, Yaz and Ryan seem pretty geeked to be in 1955 too, until it becomes impossible to ignore the realities of their situation. What's lovely, though, is that despite his white-privilege blind spots (which, speaking as a fellow white person, we all have), Graham is a more woke guy than one might expect from the over-50 demographic. His vocal disgust at Ryan's mistreatment ("I'm so ashamed.") does him credit, as does the horror on his face when he realizes that he's the catalyst for Rosa Parks' arrest. Graham repeatedly challenges 1950s anti-miscegenation mores by proudly telling the scandalized and disbelieving locals that Ryan is his grandson. Any of these things could have gotten him in trouble with the local law too, but Graham chooses to be an outspoken ally rather than skate by unnoticed on the privilege that being white affords him. Like Ryan and Yaz, he's also given multiple opportunities to contribute meaningfully to the plot. Yet again, his career as a bus driver comes in extremely handy. I'm sorry to say that I had written his profession off as an interesting skill (which I most certainly do not possess!) and a superb career choice, but not a specialization that was likely to help him out on his travels with the Doctor. How wrong was I? Not only does it provide him with useful knowledge about James Blake's background, enable him to quickly narrow down the bus routes between Rosa's work and home, and drive the repaired bus to pick up Blake the Snake, but Graham continues to prove adept at making fast friends with the local drivers, which is turning into a spectacular source of local intel. At this point, I would have said "this is what I meant about tailoring scripts to your companions" except that Rosa's story is all about that bus, so maybe it's the other way around; maybe Graham's profession was settled upon with this story in mind. Either way, I highly approve. Walsh also gets a cute comedic scene when Graham and the Doctor are confronted in their hotel room by Officer Mason, and Graham attempts to think on the fly to come up with an "invention" (the cell phone) that he can pitch to Officer Mason as a cover story. Hilariously, he's so caught up in this deception that it doesn't even occur to him that he could just use his real name! ("Steve Jobs would never disrespect a Montgomery police officer, sir.") I'm so very happy to be able to say that by this week, Graham has won me over completely. Now that his constant complaining has been toned way down, his prickly relationship with Ryan is turning into a really nice character arc for the both of them. Of course, it helps that Ryan isn't blatantly rebuffing him any longer, but I really like that while they're starting to bond, Ryan still isn't comfortable being Graham's best pal. They're headed toward smooth sailing, but they're not going to get there easily, which seems very realistic. I definitely approve of the way that the slow simmer of their friendship is being handled.

With so much attention being lavished on the companions this week, the Doctor takes a tiny bit of a backseat; her energies are directed more toward orchestrating their defensive strategy and dealing with Krasko, which she does with great flair. Their first conversation, in which she attempts to suss him out, crackles with wit and mutual disapproval, but their second confrontation is the real masterpiece, as the Doctor almost literally runs rings around him. Not only does she rather brilliantly trick Krasko into hurling his own equipment back in time, she deduces his background and Achilles' heel with a speed that would impress Sherlock Holmes, then snatches and destroys his vortex manipulator right before his eyes, mostly to hobble his plans but partly just to taunt him and reinforce the fact that he's powerless to retaliate. It's just a brilliant scene, and Whittaker absolutely dominates it. Her mock-innocent delivery of "Oops! Shame! You just sent all your equipment to goodness knows where!" is a particular highlight. Yet again, the thirteenth Doctor's deep empathy is proving to be one of her greatest strengths, and it's out in full force as she confronts 1950s racism head-on, expressing sadness at Ryan's treatment ("I agree. I'm sorry, Ryan.") and attempting to protect him from greater harm. When Ryan gets slapped by a fragile threatened white man, the Doctor, clearly realizing how much trouble they could find themselves in, focuses on trying to keep her friends safe and extract them from the situation. Among Whittaker's many wonderful deliveries: "Still figuring them out.", "Amazing. Also a problem.", her gasp when she spots Krasko's backup charger, the defiantly provoking way she runs back to scan Krasko with her sonic screwdriver, "Have we done that?", the displeased look on her face when Graham puts his arm around her shoulders, "Don't like it.", and her mock-helpless "And if it's torn, I'll get in such trouble!"

If I had to pick one word to describe Vinette Robinson's portrayal of Rosa Parks, that word would be "dignity". Robinson holds herself with such poise and control, as though Parks is well aware that she has greater self-worth than the culture in which she lives will allow. The script does such justice to Parks, both in its portrayal of her strength and through the historically-accurate glimpse it gives us into her life and the challenges she faced, and Robinson perfectly and respectfully embodies this iconic role. The one element of her performance that I questioned was her accent on certain words. Did Rosa Parks really have an accent in which "sir" rhymes (ish) with "say"? (The same [ɹ] → [ʌɪ] sound change shows up in "words", "serve", "church", and "worth".) Well, sure enough, archival footage of Rosa Parks (like this video) proves that she did: I heard the same vowel in real-life Rosa's pronunciation of "work", "first", "person", and "controversy". So, Ms Robinson: you nailed it. I also loved her delivery of "You're police?", her fateful "No.", and the subtle — but quietly defiant, and proud — smile that she gives Ryan as she passes his bus window.

Rosa's adversary, bus driver James Blake "the Snake", comes across as a petty, vindictive sadist with a quick and raging temper fuelled by a deep well of virulent racism, who revels in wielding to the fullest extent the (ultimate) power which he lords over his tiny domain. (I was surprised to learn that, sure enough, in 1955 Montgomery, bus drivers were accorded the same authority and powers as the police, which explains Blake's power trip, as well as why the camera lingers on his holstered gun.) Evidently, in later life, Blake was regarded as a kind man by those who knew him. But in this episode, Blake has not one single sympathetic redeeming feature, which is exactly as it should be. Most racists are perfectly lovely to those they don't regard as inferior, but history — and the African-American community — has no obligation to downplay their evil by painting a nuanced, sympathetic portrait; particularly given that African-American victims of prejudice are not typically afforded the same benefit of the doubt. Our society has had just about enough of torch-waving racists being described as "very fine people", thank you very much. Funnily enough, this little voice in the back of my mind kept whispering that Blake looked awfully familiar, but I didn't pay it much attention until my third viewing, when I looked up the cast list and suddenly noticed that Blake was being played by Trevor White. Who I swiftly discovered, to my great excitement, was the Trevor White. I may have mentioned that back in my days of X-Files fandom, I went into a shockingly deep funk for a couple of days when the show killed off my favorite character. (In an effort to avoid spoiling anyone who hasn't yet seen the series, I'll avoid revealing the actor's name until later; please do skip this paragraph if that includes you!) I've never experienced anything quite like it before or since, but what pulled me out of it was finding an online fan club devoted to the actor in question (all the members of which were grieving as deeply as I was, and were equally as talented at denial as I discovered I am). They were such a lovely group of people, and many of us are still in touch through Facebook. Being the obsessive supportive fans that we are, we naturally combed the TV and movie listings for anything featuring our beloved Brendan Beiser. (My most recent unexpected sighting was when he popped up in a crowd scene in Downsizing, which I was watching on a flight to Amsterdam, and nearly leapt out of my seat when I realized it was him.) One factoid someone dug up was that he was best friends with another Vancouver actor named Trevor White, with whom he teamed up for projects like short film ¡Aardvark! (1997). Naturally, the nature of our fan club meant that we supported anyone who supported Brendan, so our interest spilled over into Trevor's projects as well. As a result, I kept up with his career for a while, though looking over his credits, I don't think I've seen him in anything since, gosh, probably Millennium. So, much like with Downsizing, I flipped out when I realized who I was watching, and immediately had to run and tell my other fan-club buddies. (In an unexpected sequence of events, I wound up becoming Facebook friends with Brendan a few years ago, and FYI he's fully in favor of appearing in a Doctor Who story one day himself. The petition starts here, people!) White is superb in the part, and that's not my bias talking; he conveys frightening racist rage whenever one of Blake's black passengers dares to challenge his total authority, and his accent sounds really authentic to my ear. Great delivery of "Fella from the depot just came by, gave me the good news.", "This bus ain't goin' nowhere.", and the way he barrels down the aisle to relocate the "White" sign.

Gruff Officer Mason (Gareth Marks) is a quintessential example of the everyday-corrupt police officer. He's probably a fine upstanding cop in most respects, except for how he simply accepts the inferiority of other races and uses his position of power to make certain that they don't get uppity. Major kudos to Marks' sadly brief performance, which is extremely naturalistic. Between his accent (one of the best of the story) and his confident swagger, I was 100% convinced that I was watching a period police officer.

As the rage-filled Mr Steele, Richard Lothian delivers an intense performance. He's an obvious stand-in for the malignant breed of bigots who are just waiting for any excuse they can find (or manufacture) to murder a member of whatever group they happen to hate, and he serves as an effective reminder that unprovoked violence was (and sometimes still is) seen as an appropriate outlet for prejudiced beliefs. As such, his character terrified me. Brilliantly acted, but I was glad Ryan never encountered him again.

Ray Sesay's cameo as Martin Luther King is delightful. Given that he and Rosa Parks were real-life friends during this time period, plus of course his own eventual massive impact on the fight for civil rights, it's so very fitting that he makes an appearance in this story. Sesay portrays him perfectly as a confident and kind man who radiates innate leadership ability and more than a little befuddlement at Ryan's behaviour.

David Dukas is entertainingly enthusiastic as bus driver Elias Griffin Jr. But would any US southerner actually say "Sinatra" with the [æ] vowel (like UK "pasta")? I am skeptical. Something about the Waitress didn't quite click with me either; Jessica Claire Preddy sounds like she's reading her lines rather than engaging with them. But it's a delight to see Morgan Deare again, returning for the first time since my beloved Delta and the Bannermen to play Arthur, the man who snaps at Ryan by the bus stop.

Despite being filmed in dusty South Africa, Rosa does a great job of evoking 1950s Alabama. Period cars cruise the streets by sidewalks lined with leafy trees, locals hang out on the wide porches of their residential homes, and retro signage is displayed on the walls and the streets. Having just returned from a long weekend in Palm Springs, I found myself instantly attracted to the very midcentury modern sign for the Sahara Springs motel, except of course for that horrible blazing "Whites Only" warning.

As a historical episode, Rosa doesn't have so many effects to discuss, but I like the rusted look of Krasko's alien tech (contrary to what Ryan says, I could have believed on first glance that it was from the 1950s!), and the blue-light effect, when his temporal displacement weapon makes things vanish into thin air, is nifty. I'm also a fan of the new TARDIS display, with its illegible graphics!

Akinola's score this week put me in mind of Star Trek at times, like when Krasko scans the TARDIS, and when he later confronts Rosa Parks. My favorite moment, without a doubt, is the wonderful, horrific juxtaposition of Akinola's bucolic music leading up to the vicious slow-motion slap. But I also really liked the uplifting score as the Doctor declares that their mission is to keep history in order. Rosa features a rare instance of not one but two songs on the soundtrack. Andra Day's 2015 anthem "Rise Up" has become quite a popular musical shorthand for civil-rights narratives, so much so that it almost felt like an emotionally manipulative choice to close out the story. But the fact remains that the lyrics are so very relevant, and it's a gorgeous song that couldn't be more fitting. So, fine, tug on my heartstrings all you want, because it's working! I was even more delighted with the appearance of an authentic period gospel song toward the beginning, "Woke Up This Morning (With My Mind Stayed On Freedom)" by the Freedom Singers. Sure, the group didn't form until 1962, and this song wasn't released until 1964 (though it was based on a much older African-American spiritual), but it was an important song of the civil rights movement, and it fits the episode perfectly.

Along with a black writer and two black leads, this episode of Doctor Who also boasts a black director, Mark Tonderai, doing a two-fer with The Ghost Monument. I mean, if you're finally gonna hire the show's first black writer in 55 years, might as well go all-out to celebrate the moment in history-making style, right? Needless to say, I'm thrilled that Rosa Parks' shining moment on Doctor Who became a vehicle for so many talented professionals of color. While I wasn't bowled over by Tonderai's direction last week, here his stylish flair makes an impression right from the very first artful shot of the US flag waving in the foreground breeze over a Montgomery street at night. My favorite shot by far, though, was the frame of the policeman's shadow looming on the door when the Doctor opens it. It reminded me of similar obscuring-the-villain camera angles that terrified me when I was little, and using that technique on an officer of the law is a superb way to reinforce the perceived threat of the police, both in black communities today, and the specific threat posed here by Officer Mason. I also loved the superb panning shot of the TARDIS materializing, the disorienting angle of the Doctor opening the padlocks, the shot of the TARDIS team racing into the oil-tank area, the stylish crane shot of the Doctor and her friends standing below the motel sign, the time-lapse shot of the lights above the department store building turning on, the profile lineup of the three companions in the hotel room, the gorgeous scenery of the winding creek, and the superb angle of Rosa defiantly sitting back down in her seat.

As a Southerner myself, I'm ashamed of this aspect of my community's history. In fact, growing up in West Virginia, I remember being distinctly proud that my state had seceded because it didn't want to support slavery (though of course the true reasons were more complicated, and not so purely noble). When my family moved to North Carolina, I vehemently did not consider myself to be Southern, though over time I assimilated. But it still never fails to gobsmack me how many of my North Carolina friends will vociferously argue that the Civil War wasn't about slavery, it was about states' rights (which of course had nothing whatsoever to do with the states' desire to continue owning slaves, eyeroll. How I wish I still had my old history books, to see how our Christian textbooks taught slavery and the mistreatment of Native Americans). And "why can't we have a White Entertainment Network?" And "if they wouldn't break the law, they wouldn't get arrested." (Try saying that to Rosa Parks' face.) And "if they'd been respectful to the police officer, they wouldn't have been killed." So little empathy, so much unquestioned prejudice. Which is exactly why the messages of this episode remain so important today.

And as a transplant to Michigan, I'm humbled to be able to say that I've been on the Rosa Parks bus, which is on display at the Henry Ford Museum in Detroit. Of course, now I really want to go back again, and just sit there, and absorb it, and reflect on Rosa's legacy.

Minor points:

What an absolute delight. Doctor Who has often demonstrated a social conscience, but never to this degree. It's tragic that an episode about Rosa Parks remains so timely 60 years later, but that's all the more reason why her story, and the story of other civil rights pioneers, needs to be told and praised widely. Malorie Blackman and Chris Chibnall have hit a home-run with this affectionate portrayal of a woman whose peaceful resistance helped to secure greater equality for nonwhite citizens and, as a result, transformed the cultural and ethical landscape of the South. There's still a lot of work to be done, but maybe this story's strong moral message will help some well-meaning but misguided people reflect more deeply on their own views. In every respect, this story is a triumph. Rosa makes me weep with pride for Rosa Parks (and I can't even imagine how much this episode meant to Doctor Who fans of color). What a shame that she passed away in 2005; wouldn't you love to know how she'd have felt about this episode? But I hope her family sees it, and I hope it makes them even slightly as proud as Rosa herself certainly did.

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