Holistic Review: I probably would've adored The Interstellar Song Contest simply for making two of my last remaining deep fan wishes come true, but it also happens to boast a really cracking plot with poignant messages.
Juno Dawson, will you please come back and write for us again?
Cards on the table: before watching The Interstellar Song Contest, I'd never seen a Eurovision competition. Well, that's not quite true; when I was in Liverpool last year, what I thought was a Eurovision retrospective (but turned out to be the 2024 semifinals) was on TV in the background while I was journalling, and I'd watched films like Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga and The Apple which were parodies or satires of Eurovision. But Eurovision has never, to my knowledge, been transmitted in the USA, so I've never had the opportunity to sit down and watch it.
Thankfully, by near-total chance, I ended up watching this episode around 10 am on Saturday with a good friend of mine (Aaron) who was, in this scenario, my opposite: he'd never really watched an episode of Doctor Who, but he's a massive Eurovision fan, so we spent the hour variously explaining details to one another. (He especially helped me out with Belinda's line "So, what, the song contest let in Australia, and then space?" which went right over my head, even though I do remember reading about Australia's inclusion when it first happened.) Later in the afternoon, he and his husband were hosting a Eurovision party with some friends, so several hours after watching The Interstellar Song Competition, I finally got my first, very well-timed, proper exposure to Eurovision, so now I have a much better sense of the setting, at least, if not of its history (or should I say, canon?).
Because of my experience with Eurovision satire, plus received wisdom that Eurovision songs are often cheesy and kooky and ridiculously costumed, I came into this episode with the assumption that it was going to be nonstop unapologetic camp. But, wow — this story is absolutely not camp. Dawson includes nods to camp elements here and there — the biggest being the sock-puppets from Grimbald (in the same system as Bandril, perhaps?) singing the childish and extremely catchy "Dugga Doo", which is pretty much exactly how I expected the entire story to feel — but none of these elements are included purely for camp comedy value.
But at first, The Interstellar Song Contest indulges my preconceptions. Realizing they've turned up at space Eurovision, any thought of hopping right back in the TARDIS evaporates from both Belinda and the Doctor's minds, and they excitedly settle in to watch acts like Liz Lizardine singing "I Want You But My Heart Says No". So far, so potentially cheesy.
Quietly, though, behind the scenes of the competition, the story's actual plot is building. It's refreshingly straightforward: a terrorist (we'll come back to this) named Kid enslaves the station's robotic security droneguards, and uses them to take over the control room, where he replaces the live broadcast with a recording of the dress rehearsal before launching his murderous plan: first, venting the entire audience of 100,000 people into the unprotected vacuum of space, and then preparing to transmit a deadly audio signal through the transmission in order to kill the entire audience of three trillion viewers at home. Following an episode with quite low stakes, it's refreshing to have a story where the stakes are massive (and, as an aside, pleasingly reminiscent of The Idiot's Lantern, but on a much bigger scale).
While the contest is happily burbling along onstage, Kid's evil scheme rapidly begins to generate tension, from the moment that one of the droneguards announces to Gary, in a malevolent voice, "Phase one beginning." It's clear, when Kid barges into the control room with guns drawn, that he means business, but I wasn't anticipating how quickly his plan would escalate. In the span of just over three minutes, Kid goes from seizing control of the broadcast to wickedly joking, "Let's raise the roof!" And at that point, all of a sudden, the story turns very dark.
In the middle of Liz' passionate belter of a song, a klaxon blares like a tugboat, presaging the shutdown of the station's air bubble. The following scene, of the entire massive crowd being sucked out into space in what appears to be an indiscriminate mass slaughter, is one of the most horrific sequences ever in Doctor Who, even without being gory. It's inexorable and inescapable, and it looks like everyone is doomed.
We have a momentary glimmer of hope when the TARDIS gets sucked out along with the Doctor... but he can't intercept it, and they go whizzing off into space in different directions, thwarting his one last chance to save not just himself, but everyone. The following nearly-silent shot, of the audience all floating out into the vacuum of space against the cheery backdrop of a colorful pastel nebula, is equally horrific and impactful.
This rapid pivot from goofy to deadly serious sets up the remainder of the episode to engage in a really interesting meditation on exploitation and prejudice.
Current Eurovision controversy, I gather, is mainly centered around whether Israel should still be allowed to compete, given that they've been accused of genocide since their retaliation against Hamas has inflicted large-scale displacement and death on Palestinian citizens — particularly since Russia, by contrast, was banned from competition following the invasion of Ukraine. The Interstellar Song Contest avoids commenting on real-life Eurovision debates, but it does use the faux contest as a platform to discuss other hot-button topics.
Broadly, The Interstellar Song Contest condemns demonization of 'the other', here represented by literal demonic proxies: humanoid aliens from the planet Hellia, whose heads bear curved horns which are more reminiscent of mythological horned beasts than any Earth animal. As Cora says, "We're treated like scum right across the galaxy", and throughout the episode, various characters express thirdhand wariness or disgust about the Hellions:
As Cora eventually informs us, these beliefs are nothing more than hateful propaganda, lies that were invented and disseminated by the Corporation in order to disenfranchise the Hellions and prevent anyone from learning or believing their true story:
In other words, here we have yet another example of an atrocity being covered up by blaming and stigmatizing the victims. Even though our culture(s) are starting to push back against the concept of victim-blaming, it still happens constantly, and this is a powerful fictional example. Shockingly, the destruction of Hellia happened within living memory — if Mike's parents used to vacation there, it's only been gone for a few decades at most — and obviously people have happy memories of its beauty and, presumably, its people. Yet the Corporation's propaganda has already swayed minds and hearts away from the evidence of their own eyes. We see this in Len, too — even after hearing Cora's tale of woe, and (one assumes) understanding why she had to hide her true identity from him and others, and that the Hellions weren't to blame for what happened to their planet, Len still feels betrayed that Cora lied to him, and worse, he still believes the false stereotypes.
This message is a fairly universal one, and it could apply to any number of stigmatized minority groups who have been the target of vicious lies and slander, societal shunning, and mistreatment: religious groups like Muslims, Falun Gong, and especially Jewish people; members of the Dalit caste; sexual and gender minorities; refugees and stateless people like the Romani and Rohingya; racial minorities, particularly Black people; and immigrants in general, especially from linguistic minority groups. (When Cora admits that she's from Hellia, one of the audience members yells out, "Go back where you came from!") But, viewing this episode through the lens of Doctor Who's first (finally!) trans writer, I see specific parallels to the trans and broader LGBTQ+ community.
Cora grew up on Hellia, but she now passes for Trion. As Wynn harshly (but truthfully) points out, Cora has been able to hide on Trion, telling nobody about her true origins. As a concept, 'passing' has its strongest roots in the Black community, where during eras of segregation, light-skinned (especially bi- or multi-racial) Black people were able to pass for white and navigate White society, albeit under constant fear of discovery and the potentially fatal consequences that would result. It's poignant, therefore, that Cora is portrayed by Miriam-Teak Lee, a Black actress. But 'passing' has an analogue in the trans community as well, in that trans people (and, for that matter, cisgender people) may or may not be perceived by others as the gender that aligns with their identity. Whether or not a trans person wants to pass as cisgender is highly individualistic. Because life presents more challenges to transgender people who don't pass, passing is a form of privilege that can increase security, safety, and self-confidence, but — as Cora discovers — it's a complex one. Trans people who do pass — especially trans women — sometimes feel, like white-passing Black people during segregation, under constant threat of discovery. This tension especially impacts trans women who work in the sex industry, where the legally-discredited "LGBTQ+ panic" defense is still a very real day-to-day danger which contributes to the disproportionately high murder rate among the community of trans women.
The reason why Cora can pass for Trion is because her distinctive Hellion horns have been surgically removed. Belinda wonders if Cora chose to remove them (which would have been a stronger trans allegory), but she refutes this suggestion. Cora's horns were removed by force. So here the story more strongly echoes the stories of intersex people, in the days when sexual identity was surgically imposed before the age of consent.
Cora embodies one type of trauma inflicted upon members of demonized groups (the desire to fly under the radar and go unnoticed), whereas Kid and Wynn illustrate a very different response: the urge to become militant.
I've often said that, if you persistently demonize a minority group, then you can't act shocked when members of that group decide that they might as well live up to the characterization that you keep forcing upon them. I was thinking more about members of the LGBTQ+ community who embrace the Satanist religion (or even just its trappings) primarily for shock value or humor, defiantly flaunting symbols that send Christians (and not just the bigoted anti-gay/trans ones) into even greater frenzied, mouth-frothingly apoplectic rage and horror. (In Eurovision terms, 2024's "Doomsday Blue" is a near-perfect example, though Bambie Thug's inclusion of occult elements was authentic rather than ironic.) Or gay men being overtly sexual at Pride, as a way of publicly repudiating the narrow box of sexuality that many heteronormative cultures forcefully attempt to impose on everyone. The same general principle seems to apply here: the Hellions are being accused of being cannibalistic murderers, and no doubt many of them are exhausted from constantly trying to maintain their innocence, and have considered just giving up and leaning into the stereotype. So — though I realize it treads a fine line in mapping villainous motivation onto the LGBTQ+ community — into this line of Kid's, I read queer defiance:
The difference is that Kid doesn't just imagine taking murderous revenge against his oppressors, he actually does attempt to commit mass murder on an almost unfathomable scale, not just against his oppressors (none of whom are physically present on Harmony Station) but against innocent audience members in the station and at home. (So, okay, maybe there's some commentary on current Eurovision controversy after all.) As the Doctor points out, this rather strongly suggests that Kid's motivations aren't so pure. Kid wants to think of himself as a freedom fighter, but in reality, he's just a terrorist, motivated deep down not by a desire to exact justice, but by genuine sociopathy:
The Interstellar Song Contest has deep sympathy for Kid's plight — his backstory is heartbreakingly tragic, and his frustration and fury are both completely justified — and for the profoundly unjust conditions that are perpetuating the Hellions' oppression. But, as the story takes pains to point out, having a tragic background doesn't give you an automatic pass if you inflict cruelty on others. (Should I say that again loudly for JK Rowling in the back?) As Belinda said last week, hurt people hurt people, and that's not okay.
The episode also subtly points out that for all their grandstanding, Kid and Wynn weren't really striking a blow against the Corporation at all. Sure, they were planning to murder trillions of people, but that doesn't tell the galaxy anything about the Corporation's misdeeds, and people wouldn't automatically associate this mass murder with the Corporation. So Kid's plan was not only inhuman but also deeply misguided. Perhaps they were intending to take credit for the atrocity after the fact? For all their overdramatic actions, Kid and Wynn have done nothing to educate the general public about the true story of Hellia. All they've done is (attempt to) kill trillions of people, which is hardly going to make them seem sympathetic or believable, much less sway public opinion in their favor.
In the end, it's Cora who causes the tide to turn, when she comes out to an audience of three trillion people on an intergalactic stage. ("Why is that news?" scoff some members of the audience. "How come she's being celebrated just because she's Hellion?") Not only does she come out publicly, she leverages the moment and her universal platform to share the truth and spread awareness about how the Corporation defiled her planet. Unlike Kid and Wynn, Cora genuinely educates the audience, and appeals to their emotions in order to move them about the Hellions' plight.
Granted, Cora's approach seems to sway public opinion a bit too easily and decisively, especially given that she educates in the form of a song sung in the Hellion language. Though at least Cora does clarify for them that Hellia was "a civilization that the Corporation destroyed: its beauty, its history, its soul." which provides some context to her song. (Naturally, when the song ends, Cora receives a standing ovation from the entire audience.) The logical part of my brain is going "this is entirely unrealistic; it's very unlikely that anyone in the audience understands a word of this stigmatized language that she's speaking, and if even facts and logical argumentation are insufficient to make people reconsider their prejudices (as we know all too well), there's no way that heartfelt emotion alone is going to do it."
However: what I love is that this sequence powerfully illustrates that you don't need to understand the lyrics of a song in order for its meaning and emotion to resonate within you. Equally powerful is the symbolism of Cora singing her ballad in the Hellions' native language, rather than in English (as is evidently becoming more common at Eurovision itself). Those of us in the audience at home get a little bit of extra help: over Cora's song, we see images of Hellia on fire, which provides powerful visuals to anchor her vocals, so your emotion just swells watching the beautiful poppy fields burning and smoking. One can only hope that this performance prompted interviews in which Cora was able to explain the meaning of the song and the true history of her people, assuming of course that the Corporation didn't stop the time-delayed broadcast of this days-late non-competition from reaching the other planets.
Happily, the speed with which Cora transforms public opinion through a song that none of them understands is one of the very few, and very minor, issues that I have with this story. On the whole, I find it nearly free of plot holes; the only criticism I can really make is that there are a few moments where suspension of disbelief requires just a bit more effort:
Dawson's script is also reluctant to allow thousands of audience members to remain murdered, which is totally fair, because after all this is Doctor Who, and sometimes everybody lives. (Plus, if you can undo one of Doctor Who's most monstrous war crimes, why wouldn't you?) However, the need to revive everyone — which not only tacks an extra resolution onto the plot (in addition to the time needed for a post-credits scene), but also forces Dawson to incorporate sufficient scaffolding to make that resolution workable — has a couple of knock-on effects. First, Kid's story is over by 34 minutes into the episode, which means that the Doctor reaches the control gallery far more quickly than one would expect, and with fewer challenges — Kid never, for example, makes good on his threat to vent the station's air. Then, the Doctor's plan to rescue and revive all of the frozen audience members feels rushed, to be honest. We have no idea how this revivification is even remotely possible, not to mention how many days it must take them to tractor beam every single person back on board. But even though his plan is just sketched out, what matters most to me is that (a) the script successfully wraps up all of its dangling plot threads, and (b) it puts in enough effort to at least suggest a logical explanation, rather than freewheeling and hoping we won't notice. Both of those things are true here, so for me, the hurried ending is forgivable. Plus, it's easier to gloss over the less-clear elements when the rest of the plot is so solid.
To give a comparable example from earlier in the story, how the Doctor manages to save everyone's lives by triplicating the gravity field is never fully convincing to me, but the script repeatedly makes a valiant effort to assure us that they're simply cryo-preserved in gravitic suspension, so I'm happy to accept it as truth. My only theory to help me comprehend it is, maybe the 'mavity' bubble is still holding in all the air, which is now spread very very thin (and very very cold)? The fact that the Doctor can gasp upon waking up, and woo-hoo when he fires the confetti cannon, would seem to support this supposition.
So, all in all, I'm really impressed by how well Dawson's script holds together, and how few things there are to nitpick.
And let's take a minute to talk about just how brilliant Dawson was, in specifying that Kid needs to use the recording of the dress rehearsal as a cover-up for the plan he's set in motion on the station. Last week, I started wondering how on earth Doctor Who was going to do a Eurovision spoof that didn't involve regularly taking time out for musical interludes. This is how: the competition has screeched to a halt, the Doctor and Belinda have been flung into deep trouble, and everyone is just trying to stay alive, but we periodically check back in with the dress rehearsal as the broadcast plays out on the station's screens. This way, the episode gets to have its cake and eat it too. It's such a smart solution for the obvious stumbling block.
That's but one example of Dawson's generally brilliant script, which barely wastes a line, and — in direct contrast to Davies' freewheeling style — employs Chekhov's Gun with finesse and precision.
The only element that does immediately raise 'setup for later' flags is the PoppyHoney ad, which is a shame; it, too, would've looked unobtrusive if only they'd slipped in another fake ad or two, rather than keeping PoppyHoney in constant rotation on the screen.
I feel it's also important to add that, despite the subject matter — which makes this even more impressive — there's not a cheesy moment to be found in the story, which is pretty rare for modern Doctor Who.
Thanks to all this careful attention to detail, the plot is one of the most watertight that Doctor Who has ever had.
Now. Which of this week's breathtaking surprises should I discuss first?
"Go back!" whispered a voice, as the Doctor floated through the vacuum of space. In that moment, I had a guess as to the voice was, but in the subsequent flood of endorphins, I've lost the memory; but I think my guess is that it was Mrs Flood. Reader, it was not. When the screen flickered and we suddenly saw that the person communicating with him was Susan, I nearly lost it. I believe I yelled something like "OH MY GOODNESS" at my poor confused friend. Susan's telepathic message continues, "Grandfather, go back. Find me." First off, hearing Susan call the Doctor 'Grandfather' onscreen again, canonically, sent waves of emotion through my entire body. Secondly, "Find me" bodes very well for the future. We still haven't heard anything about her appearing in the finale, so it's possible that Susan's arc is being set up for a potential season three, but I note that, in Doctor Who Unleashed, Carole Ann Ford is wearing a futuristic pleated grey jacket that looks like something Susan would pick, but is very un-Carole-Ann-Ford. (Or so I assume, anyway; she is a very fashionable woman, so that grey jacket could very well be hers. I was beyond lucky to finally have the chance to meet her last year, at the Capitol Seven convention in Birmingham in April 2024. I didn't even know that photoshoots were going to be a thing until a few days beforehand, so it hadn't occurred to me to pack any appropriate T-shirts for the specific guests. I got gently ribbed by a couple of folks for wearing my Dodo-in-Celestial-Toymaker T-shirt to meet Carole Ann Ford ("You're wearing the wrong companion!"), but it turned out to be the very best choice: as I walked up to take my seat next to Carole Ann, I told her how much I loved her sparkly purple jacket (and silver trousers!), and she replied, "I like your shirt! I used to have a dress like that." 🤯🤯🤯 The photographer told her that Jackie Lane had also worn a dress like it in Doctor Who, and Carole Ann informed us, "It was mine! Well, not mine, but I had one like it." Who knew!!! She apparently had the hat too.) At any rate, I suspect that's a positive sign for an imminent return. (And how lovely was it to see Ford's name in the closing credits again?!)
When the revival chamber opened to reveal that the final rescued victim was Mrs Flood, I wondered: was it possible that we were finally going to find out her true identity? Boy howdy! When Mrs Flood announced that she was a Time Lady, I had a momentary brain-freeze myself. It was at that moment that I finally allowed myself to hope, in the very back of my mind, that she just might be the Rani, but the idea seemed so ludicrous that I didn't really believe it. But what other option was there? Certainly not Romana! I was in such a daze of anticipation during the bigeneration that I can't even recall if Archie Panjabi's appearance and sarcastic wit gave me hope; all I remember is FLIPPING OUT on this line:
Rani: "Our name is the Rani. Although she's become a Rani, while I'm the Rani."
Hand on heart, I'm getting emotional just typing this. The Rani has always been one of my all-time-favorite villains, and I've been fervently wishing for her return ever since the series was revived. Along with practically all the rest of fandom, it seems; I wonder if we can track back who was the first mysterious female character who was plagued by Rani rumors? The red-nailed hand that picked up the Master's ring at the end of season 3 finale Last of the Time Lords, perhaps? That's part of the reason why I never really put any stock in the Rani rumors about Mrs Flood; she's always the first character who gets theorized! Besides, Mrs Flood has never really shown any Rani-like inclinations before, so that really threw me off her scent. The Rani has never been known for her dotty absent-mindedness, or her vague proclamations of impending doom, or her habitual breaking of the fourth wall, or her dressing up as if she's cosplaying former comp— ...oh, actually, never mind about that last one.
But Mrs Flood's subservient behaviour toward the Rani ("Oh, I'm ever so sorry, ma'am!") is absolutely wild, and so out-of-character that it hints at some kind of personality alteration, like the chameleon arch, or some kind of regenerative crisis. This may eventually explain her many, many other out-of-character behaviours.
It wasn't until afterward, as I was showering to head out for my friends' Eurovision party, that it hit me: the Rani is now played by an actress of Indian heritage. And when I say 'hit me', I mean powerfully. Pip and Jane Baker famously borrowed the Rani's moniker (I choose that word lovingly, in homage to them) from the Hindi term for queen, so it's only right that the part should be embodied at some point by an Anglo-Indian actress; and during an era of the show when one of the leads is an Anglo-Indian companion, even better! Now please let's get Sacha Dhawan's Master back for a rematch of the spiky Master/Rani double-act. How glorious would that be? Especially opposite Dhawan's far more unhinged Master, I have no doubt that Panjabi's put-downs would be absolutely withering. I get happy tingles up my spine just thinking about it.
As to her plan, well, it's still a total mystery, but we don't have long to wait before we find out! I'm intrigued that it has something to do with the Doctor's Vindicator readings.
On Sunday, I had this conversation with Gray:
Anita Dobson is a delight in not her last appearance as Mrs Flood; I especially loved her delivery of "I love a good show!" I'm really excited to learn more about her relationship with the Rani, in every sense of the word.
As for Archie Panjabi, she is absolutely nailing the Rani's vibe. I'm thoroughly delighted. The Rani's dialogue here is a little more arch than I think of the character, but Panjabi has her smug superiority and perpetual irritation down pat. Her performance perfectly honors the much-missed Kate O'Mara, while still clearly putting her own spin on the character, exactly as is right. Her line "Shut up!", ordinarily one I would object to, feels utterly right coming out of the mouth of the impatient Rani. And this means that, next week (or the week after), we're almost certain to have a scene in which Mel again matches wits with the Rani! (Do you suppose we'll have any references to Archie Panjabi wearing a curly red wig?)
There are weeks when I don't have a lot to say about the Doctor, because his character, for the most part, is pretty constant. This is not one of those weeks. In The Interstellar Song Contest, Gatwa gets his Time Lord Victorious moment, and it is fearsome to behold.
My jaw was slightly on the floor as this monologue went on, and I remember thinking that my friend Aaron was going to get a rather inaccurate impression of what a noble hero the Doctor truly was. So I was relieved that Belinda, too, was stunned: "That's... not him." I like the way she describes the repercussions, too: "If he's angry, this whole world is going to shake." Not burn, not violent; but shake. Nice way to put it.
When the Doctor actually confronts Kid, he goes way over the line, threatening to torture him to death by repeatedly deploying his hologram to zap Kid with some kind of painful energy shock — and, at first, coldly refusing to look at Kid as he inflicts this pain.
Even Susan's telepathic pleas ("Stop, Grandfather!") don't cool his rage or halt his vengeful attacks; it's Belinda who reminds the Doctor of his conscience.
What's great is that this moment isn't just included for the sake of drama, it's actually motivated by the Doctor's character. I hadn't thought about the parallels between Kid's plan and the destruction of Gallifrey, but of course it's never far from the Doctor's mind:
That makes his turn toward the darkness feel earned, rather than forced. Interestingly, the story's end suggests that the Doctor hasn't magically gotten over whatever motivated him to torture Kid; that rage, and the knowledge of how far it can drive him, is going to remain a part of him. His delivery of this last line, in particular, is quietly chilling.
Outside of his dark turn — or maybe partly because of it — the Doctor's 'insane genius' side is out in full force. Witness the way he effortlessly rewires the station's computer system while simultaneously destroying two droneguards, without even looking up. Having witnessed the Doctor's dark side, and his supreme competence, Gary and Mike are both understandably a bit wary of their new friend, which makes this exchange a delight:
After defying such impossible odds to save the day, when the Doctor promises to Belinda at the end, "Bel, I am not just gonna take you home, I am gonna save your home.", we fully believe him.
Gatwa performs quite an athletic leap over the boundary wall of the VIP booth, and he gets some great moments of humor, first when he thuds backward onto the floor after cannoning himself back into the station, and his hilarious delivery of "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" (deep gasp, deep gasp, deep gasp) "...oh." Also loved his delivery of "I was clever, Mike and Gary.", "What, in case I do this?", and the look on his face as the Doctor realizes what he's done, and as he hugs Belinda.
One of my only other mild criticisms of the episode is that Belinda started out with three really strong companion scripts in a row, and now she's been sidelined for three weeks in a row. I'd hoped that being separated from the Doctor might give Belinda the chance to take charge and leap into action herself, but instead she winds up playing second-fiddle to Cora and Len, and accomplishing pretty much nothing. (Once she's released from the VIP booth, she just hangs around moping about the Doctor, and by the time she finds him in the control room, the main plot of the story is over.) Still, in this case, being sidelined doesn't mean that Varada Sethu was bereft of good material; on the contrary, The Interstellar Song Contest gives her some fantastic moments.
For starters, it feels well-earned that Belinda is only just now, finally, starting to see the real upside to her travels with the Doctor, after landing at the Interstellar Song Contest. But before she gets too complacent, the script reminds Belinda just why she wants to get back to her life on Earth. When tragedy first strikes, Belinda reins in her panic and stays optimistic, thinking like a nurse ("Is there some sort of air bubble or something? Can't we call for rescue? Are there emergency services?") until she finds out that no help is coming: there are (shockingly) no local emergency services, and the station is in close-down, meaning that no signals are getting out either. This leads to Belinda's belated trial-by-fire moment: that classic scene, usually in a companion's second episode, in which they believe the Doctor to be dead, and (during the revival) has a crisis of isolation or abandonment, suddenly realizing that they're stranded in a strange time and/or place with no way back under their own power. In Belinda's case, this triggers a panic attack, which is really believably scripted and played by Sethu:
This week, in contrast to the rapidity of Lux, I fully believe Belinda's conversion to enthusiastic time-traveller, first with her infectious starstruck enthusiasm at getting to attend the Interstellar Song Contest, and then with her reaction to the realization that the Doctor is still alive. When she thinks the Doctor has been killed, Belinda finally realizes just how much he meant to her:
Of course, at the story's end, Belinda finally has the chance to do exactly that, and it's a lovely moving moment between the two of them:
And at least Belinda gets to — oh good heavens, I nearly wrote "to play nurse with Rylan." She wishes! What I meant to say is, even though she doesn't get to revive the Doctor herself, the script doesn't ignore her medical training. Along with providing another welcome glimpse of backstory, her story about getting to stay up late to watch Eurovision with her parents is charming. Throughout the episode, Sethu's performance is scene-stealing, especially her Belinda's excitement at meeting one of the stars of Eurovision ("It's Rylan!"). I love the shots of her beaming from ear to ear, and slurping on a bright red slushie in blissful contentment, as well as Belinda's gobsmacked reaction upon realizing that she's on a space station, her reaction when she hears the Doctor's voice, and Sethu's delivery of "He's alive!", and "Uh-huh!"
Freddie Fox — what a great name — is divinely louche as would-be mass-murderer Kid, who's so enraged by the Corporation's plunder of his home planet that he decides to murder everyone participating in or viewing the Interstellar Song Contest. He comes across as a very convincing villain, to the point that it's hard to see how the Doctor can possibly defeat him because his plan is so well thought-out. Even when it looks like the Doctor is about to storm the castle and take him out, Kid's threat to purge the station seems like a foolproof counter-strategy.
Because he's painted as being so irredeemably depraved, I really appreciate that the script takes care to illustrate to the viewers at home why, in his own mind, Kid isn't the villain. This moment gives us a great deal of empathy for Kid's trauma — along with clarifying that it wasn't just the Hell poppies that were wiped out from Hellia — even though we can't even slightly condone his actions:
Every one of Fox's lines is great, but I'll single out "Nobody move, this gallery is mine.", "What?" as the hologram of the Doctor vanishes, and the look on Kid's face as he backs away from the Doctor, terrified. Even simple lines, like "He's in the museum.", get a boost from the casually cruel way he delivers them.
Kid's sidekick is fellow Hellion and Harmony Arena employee Wynn Aura-Kin (Iona Anderson). Wynn doesn't get a lot to do after she helps Kid take over the control gallery, but I liked her fiery defiance in his support, even though you can tell that she's not actually 100% behind his methods. Great delivery by Anderson on "We had to do it. We had to tell the galaxy about the Corporation. What have you ever done, Cora, except hide?"
As this week's villain, Kid happily brings some requisite monster servants with him; in this case, it's droneguards, Harmony Arena's creepily-masked android security force. Kid has somehow managed to take control of the droneguards so that they exclusively do his bidding. They don't have a big role to play in the action, the Doctor dispatches them with consummate ease, and they never actually kill anyone themselves, but we can easily believe that they could, so they make for an unsettling mini-monster.
Kiruna Stamell is great as broadcast controller Nina Maxwell, who directs the presenters, cameras, and editing from within the control gallery. She's breezily efficient at her job, barely even crediting an interloper (she offhandedly says, "We're in the middle of transmission. Drones, get him out."), but once Kid takes over, she turns into the voice of his conscience. Loved her delivery of "What's phase one?" and "But that's the dress rehearsal."
Married couple Gary (Charlie Condou) and Mike (Kadiff Kirwan) Gabbastone are instantly well characterized: Gary is the geeky Interstellar Song Contest fan (so relatable!) to whom the contest is a defining element of his life, and his husband Mike, as a nurse, feels that there are much more serious things in life to be invested in, and doesn't take Gary's passion seriously. Over the course of the episode, the two of them have a brief mini-arc; Mike never exactly understands why Gary's geeky passion is so important, but Gary does gain a new appreciation of Mike's work, and nearly dying helps them both to remember just why they fell in love; so, happily, they spend the majority of the episode re-bonding rather than fighting. Both actors are a lot of fun; Condou, in particular, imbues Gary with a nervous, easily-annoyed energy that immediately makes the character feel recognizable and well-rounded. I loved his delivery of "I am not even gonna dignify that with a resp— Actually, you know what, I will. Because it is not just songs, Mike." and his little wink at Mike. Meanwhile, instead of Belinda, this week it's Mike who gets the nursing scenes. (It's a shame, really, that Belinda and Mike never get a scene together to bond over their shared profession!) Loved Kirwan's delivery of "Two hearts, you show-off! Respiratory bypass system, very clever." I love the way that they both start off reluctantly optimistic when the Doctor asks for their help, but by the time the Doctor asks Mike to turn the VIP pod into a revival booth, he's much less eager, ha!
Singer Cora Saint Bavier (Miriam-Teak Lee) is a woman who radiates empathy, and we see this in full force when she kindly talks Belinda down from her panic attack. Given the way Wynn saved her life, and Cora's visceral reaction to discovering that Wynn was involved in the murder plot, I assumed (despite the Kid-snogging) that Cora was Wynn's secret girlfriend. So the revelation that Cora was, in fact, a Hellion herself took me by surprise. It's unfortunate that Cora doesn't even get to try to talk Kid down from his plan before the Doctor gets there, but understandable, since what jars the Doctor out of his rage is Belinda's appearance by Cora's side. I love Cora's dramatic gold dress and hairstyle, but Lee's voice is the real showstopper. It's so powerful and soulful, so she was a perfect choice to belt out this sad Hellion song. The chorus is just spectacular as Lee's vocals swell to the roof. Her line deliveries throughout, and her facial reactions (for example, when she realizes Belinda has picked up on the fact that she knows Wynn), are superbly nuanced.
Cora's partner Len Kazah (Akemnji Ndifornyen), like Gary, has technical expertise from his time on the station tech squad. It is perhaps surprising odds that among the survivors are two nurses and two tech experts, perfectly divided so that each group has one of each, but there you go. Like Gary and Mike, Len and Cora have a mini-arc in which Len feels betrayed by the discover of Cora's true identity, but by the end, hearing Cora's song, he seems to be having a change of heart too (whereas Gary and Mike, bless them, are fully engrossed in her song, nearly to the point of tears).
Formerly Janis Goblin, Christina Rotondo returns to Doctor Who in another singing role as Liz Lizardine, the only contestant who actually gets to perform during the live show. Her song ("I Love You But My Heart Says No") sounds like it could've come from the same album as Janis' baby song, but it's perfectly calibrated to match up with the action and sound effects onscreen, as the music dies down while the klaxon is amping up.
At the start of the episode, a Runner (Imogen Kingsley Smith) gets Rylan up to speed after his latest bout of cryogenic preservation, and Kingsley Smith gives a polished performance. Then, at the story's end, we meet Jeddy Kine (Abdul Seesay), a charming volunteer who seemingly pops up out of nowhere to escort the Doctor and Belinda back to the TARDIS. It's a real shame that he only gets one scene, because he's fantastic, imbuing every line with so much energy and enthusiasm.
At our Eurovision party later that day, we were watching the Peacock broadcast which seemed to be live from Basel, so sadly I didn't get to see Rylan Clark (or Graham Norton) on our end. (And, of course, Ncuti Gatwa had to withdraw from delivering the points for the UK, alas!) But Rylan is great fun in the episode, showing off his consummate professionalism and gamely poking fun at himself.
I also loved Julie Dray as his costar Sabine. (I hadn't known that Eurovision is required to have at least one French-speaking host until someone happened to mention it at the party, so I love that Sabine provides that representation.) I wonder if she's the same species as Hyph3n? She gives a great cheerful delivery of "Oui!"
It's rather shocking that Graham Norton has never (until now!) been on Doctor Who. I knew him originally as an actor, in Father Ted, and it's been so much fun watching his meteoric rise as a talk-show host. (And it was a delight to sit in the audience briefly watching his transmission from ExCeL at the 50th anniversary convention!) Unsurprisingly, all of his line deliveries are a total hoot: "Wishing I hadn't sold my likeness in perpetuity, but, here we are.", "I'm Graham Norton, long since dead! Aw, sad face.", and the hilarious "Planet Earth! Age-old home of the human race! Also dogs, cats, ferrets, polar bears, and measles." Measles! Brilliant.
This is the first story since the 60th anniversary specials where I've thought, wow, the Disney budget is really obvious. I have a hard time imagining how The Interstellar Song Contest would've looked in, say, the Davison era. So this week, it's absolutely money well-spent. The gigantic stadium full of people and lights is completely believable — I love its diamond-themed design, from the prongs around the air bubble to the triangular backdrop behind the main stage — as is the horrifying scene as the audience gets gradually vacuumed up through the roof. The station looks great from space, especially the effect of the air shield popping, and I also really liked the effect of the tractor beam searching for Ryland (and skipping past anyone else, like the delegate from Grimbald).
I like the understated Hellion makeup too; their horns look great, as does the close-up of Cora's severed horns.
I've already raved about the stadium set in general, but the stage is just stunning, with its futuristic LED-equivalent display projecting lights and images on the pyramidal stage behind the contestants. It really looks like a million bucks. The control gallery, too, is a very impressive set, with its wall-sized bank of camera-feed monitors, especially given that the images on all the monitors were being fed live during filming, rather than added in post-production. I can't even fathom what a logistical nightmare that must have been. And the museum hallway is just charming, with its colorful décor and Eurovision memorabilia, with a very cool foldaway tech desk hidden in the wall.
Murray Gold continues his winning streak in what I think is his best season ever. Not only does he compose all of the great Interstellar Song Contest entries — and inflicts the magnificent "Dugga Doo" on us all, help me I can't get it out of my head — I have to give him special praise for the shot of thousands of people floating, apparently dead, out the air bubble of Harmony Station, which he scores with very effective restraint. I also want to highlight the way that when he does write camp songs for this Eurovision stand-in, they're juxtaposed against the most serious scenes, as if to draw a comparison between the frivolity of the music and the trauma of real life. "Dugga Doo" jauntily scores Belinda's panic attack, whereas the countdown to Kid murdering trillions of people is intercut with Cora singing about "my big feet!" It's ludicrous, which puts the actions onscreen into greater contrast. I also loved his music during the scene of the Doctor coming to terms with the fact that he nearly killed Kid.
I really enjoyed the direction by Ben A. Williams, especially his absolutely amazing shot of the Doctor using the sonic screwdriver on the VIP booth as the crowd gets sucked into space behind him. There's a great shot of Belinda's slushie pirouetting lazily through the frame, a stream of red liquid tumbling after it, which almost painfully contrasts Belinda's earlier idyllic delight with her dire predicament now. I also loved the low-angle shot of Rylan and Sabine smiling at the audience, the awesome racking focus from Kid and Wynn's close-up plotting to the Cora on the monitor behind them, the fantastic shot slowly zooming out from the Doctor as the delta wave resonates, and the zoom away from the Doctor as he holds up his hologram-glove in horror at what he's allowed himself to do.
I must say, I really enjoyed my first Eurovision experience, especially since it fell on the same day as The Interstellar Song Contest; I may not have fully appreciated all of the in-jokes, but what a fun time to get initiated into Eurovision. (I think my favorite — Ireland — was actually eliminated in the semi-finals, but otherwise I was rooting for Latvia, Spain, Denmark, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Iceland, and Malta, probably in that order. I was shocked some of them came in so low!) Afterward, my friends showed me some other classic Eurovision performances, which is the only reason — despite having been very well aware of Conchita Wurst — that I got (half of) the Doctor's line "I thought it was my 'Waterloo', turns out it was my 'Rise Like a Phoenix'!" when I watched this episode for the second time later that night.
Minor points:
Nina: "Rylan, give me some awe."
Rylan: (looking into camera; piteously) "Awww."
Nina: "No, awe. A-W-E."
Rylan: "Oh."
Kid: "Do you know my favorite kind of music? Pop."
(From outside the station, we see the air shield collapse in an instant.)
Gary: (appreciatively) "I've never seen you at work before."
Mike: "Good, because that would mean you're very ill, and I don't want that."
Doctor: "Did I just fly through space on a confetti cannon?"
Mike: "Yeah."
Doctor: "Camp."
Mike: "Look, that's a hundred thousand people, frozen and suspended in space. To reach them, and catch them, and revive every single one of them, you'd need to be some sort of insane genius."
Doctor: "Hello, I'm the Doctor."
Belinda: "I'm sorry, I don't know how to ask... Did you cut your horns off yourself? Was it by choice?"
Cora: "By force."
Doctor: "Can you do that, Gary?"
Gary: "I'd do anything for you."
Mark: "Gary."
Gary: "Anything."
Doctor: "What do you say, Mike?"
Mark: "I'll do anything for you."
Gary: "Back of the queue."
Rylan: "Babe, what happened?"
Belinda: "Oh... you came back from the dead."
Rylan: "Sums up my career."
Belinda: "If I disappear for much longer, they're gonna make a podcast about the missing nurse. And besides, there is a very tasty chef on Hinge who's gonna think I ghosted him, so fire up that Vindicator and get me back to planet Earth."
For so many reasons, it's been ages since I was this excited to review an episode. It's really all because of Dawson's tightly-plotted script, but the story also has a huge sense of both fun and drama, and its two massive fan-service twists are not just the icing on top, but also the big plump juicy cherries. (And the sprinkles. The Rani is definitely the sprinkles, though she would eviscerate me for saying that.) I am thrilled to my core by this week's surprises. It's also a pretty great story to show to newbies; aside from the Doctor's rage and the reveals, it's the most prototypical Doctor Who story we've had all season, and one of the most prototypical ever, in a really comforting, solid "this is what Doctor Who is supposed to be like" kind of way.
Also: I think I can now admit that season 15 has been an especially strong one, on the whole, with an unbroken string of relative successes and zero outright stinkers. If Doctor Who does go on its third hiatus after this season — and I pray that it doesn't; I'm hoping all this hiatus chatter ends up secretly being a cover for 'we're taking a year off to make a couple of other spinoffs, like The Nyssa Adventures' — then this is a great way to bow out.
| posted: | 23 May 2025 |