Lux finds itself a few bulbs short of a marquee episode.
Bigeneration has become something of the defining leitmotif of this current era of Doctor Who, more so than simply another in a long line of narrative capitulations to Davies’ inability to let go of David Tennant; it’s the epitome of the dichotomy that’s threatening to tear the series apart: soaring ambition and lavish (by the series’ own standards at least) effects budgets on the one side, and on the other: slapdash storytelling and tonal confusion. Lux is an episode that has both in abundance.
Fresh off the slightly shaky landing of The Robot Revolution, the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) and Belinda Chandra (Varada Sethu) find themselves in 1952 Miami as part of the Doctor’s plan to find a way back to the time-locked date of 24th May 2025 (no mention yet of why they can’t land a few days or weeks earlier and simply wait), a neon-soaked mirage of diners, drive-ins and very pointed racial segregation. The central conceit – a shuttered picture house, the site of a mass disappearance which nevertheless seems to be showing movies every single night. It’s so Scooby-Doo in set-up that even the Doctor and Belinda can’t help but make the comparison, something that in another episode might have been considered as flirting with a fourth wall break but for Lux it barely registers thanks to the metatextual recalibration that comes later.
Before too long, we’re inside the abandoned movie theatre and in the presence of Mr Ring-a-Ding (voiced by Alan Cumming, delightful as ever, mixing camp menace with just the right hint of genuine grotesquery), a rubber hose animated character and the incarnation of Lux Imperator, God of Light and member of the Pantheon of Discord. We have to assume that Lux Imperator is one of the more junior members of the Pantheon, though, as he seems to be acting as his own harbinger (trademark RTD basic wordplay with the Palazzo’s marquee, although I’m deducting points for just making up a movie to deliver the milquetoast reveal instead of finding a real one) and has to borrow another Pantheon member’s jingle for his big reveal.
The live-action/animation mix is certainly bold, and technically it’s executed with impressive polish. Mr Ring-a-Ding looks incredible, with the full use of 2D character work in real space making for some genuinely fun visual moments. The Doctor and Belinda’s excursion into the animated realm is a little less successful, but the idea that anxiety and sadness adds “depth” to characters is a nice jab although if Davies’ believes that animated characters can’t be sad or anxious he really needs to watch BoJack Horseman asap.
Of course, everything pales in comparison to that fourth wall break scene where the series comments on its own existence and fandom in an even blunter fashion than The Greatest Show In The Galaxy. The meta-concept of Doctor Who being a TV show is admittedly a brilliant – if not wholly original – one and Davies is clearly having a hoot leaning into the stereotypes but rather than making it the core of the episode, it’s used as a rapid-fire gag that collapses into an immediate faux-poignant existential crisis. The most interesting idea in an episode that’s overflowing with potential is reduced to narrative noise, a thing that flies by incoherently until, suddenly, it’s time for the grand finale and you’ve lost track of what the episode is actually about.
Beneath its surface gloss, Lux feels oddly low-wattage. It’s an incredible Doctor Who idea – more than one in fact – but again its heaped under a wild tonal mess and an infuriating lack of focus. As Ring-a-Ding’s chaotic and increasingly arbitrary powers spiral out of control, the episode lurches from one thing to another like a moth surrounded by flickering, underpowered lightbulbs.
The Gordian knot of this tangle of storytelling fairy lights is Mr Ring-A-Ding himself, and RTD’s disappointingly weak sauce Pantheon of Discord. If you’re going to have the audacity to stick the God of Light into your second episode of a new season, you need more of a raison d’être for your antagonist than just being quirky and creepy. Alan Cumming’s performance is a standout, but Ring-a-Ding himself is disappointingly two-dimensional – literally and figuratively. There’s no real depth to the character, no clear motivation that sticks. How or why is he there? How was he planning to enact his world-dominating plan if the Doctor hadn’t turned up? Especially if he can’t go outside? The subplot involving the Doctor’s regeneration energy (how long can it count as residual before it becomes incipient? Hmm?) feels contrived and boring, an overused storytelling deus ex machina that’s threatening to eclipse even the ubiquitous and omnifunctional sonic screwdriver.
Davies deploys his usual methodology of throwing so much at you that you don’t really have time to ponder the paucity of real substance on offer. Then again, there’s not a single one of the Pantheon of Discord that have carried any weight or consequence in any of their appearances. The Toymaker is dispatched through a game of catch, disappearing with little ceremony or lasting legacy. Maestro is dismissed by Lennon & McCartney at the piano, again vanishing with little fanfare and undoing everything that had happened. Even the ret-conned Osiran Sutekh, having succeeded in wiping out all life across the multiverse had his workings undone – in a reset-button pushing that would make Captain Janeway blush – by being taken for “walkies”. Every member of The Pantheon flatters to deceive and their works are undone by the most anodyne, fairy tale convenience. In the case of Lux, he’s defeated by the exact same gimmick – and, indeed, some of the same dialogue – as Davies used before in Tooth And Claw, a blatant repetition even George Lucas would balk at trying to pass off as poetry and again there’s no real lasting damage because all of his victims are returned alive.
The serious topics – especially racial discrimination in 1950s America – are half-heartedly acknowledged, ticking boxes without giving the issues any real attention. The Doctor’s bouncing from quip to quiet and back again, charming as Gatwa is, leaves him adrift in a story that seems determined to overwhelm itself. Belinda’s emotional arc from reluctant companion to unreservedly trusting the Doctor, is clumsily and hastily handled, neutering the pair’s most interesting dynamic without feeling like the rapprochement’s been earned.
Still, credit where it’s due: this is a step up from The Robot Revolution. There’s a scrappy ambition to Lux that’s hard not to admire. This episode is, again, RTD trying to out-RTD himself, and there’s a giddy, reckless joy in that, even if it collapses under its own excess. As the looming shadow of an enforced hiatus grows, it feels like the series is going to go out swinging, even if it’s those very same big swings that are destabilising it in the first place.
