I’m telling you – 2016 television is downhill from here on.
From a negligible half-line in one of the 60 stories by Arthur Conan Doyle about Sherlock Holmes – the detective mentions “the case of Ricoletti of the club foot and his abominable wife” as he’s going through old files in The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual – Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat built 90 minutes of the fastest, funniest, flashiest, cleverest, most demanding, ridiculous and brilliant drama there is likely to be until … well, possibly until the next Sherlock comes along, sometime in 2017 we are told…
It was never twins. There were doubles, and doublings-back, and parallels aplenty, there were storylines nesting inside storylines nesting inside storylines, dreams inside realities and out again, there were riffs on the riffs we know from the “real” series – the detective plucks imaginary cuttings from the air instead of websites and images and Watson is summoned by Holmes via telegram instead of text (“Come at once. If convenient. If not convenient, come all the same” – because Sherlock is a constant) – but never twins.
It was an utterly dazzling display, with bravura performances from the actors – Cumberbatch and Scott’s first scene together being among the finest they have ever had – and the plotting (if you stayed with it, and if you didn’t – no matter. That’s what the rewind button’s for. In the meantime, just marvel at the treasures being poured out before you) was a thing of wonder.
…In the meantime, let’s enjoy the fact that there was a joyous and sumptuous celebration of what television and talent that trusts in itself can do, all tipped out in one gorgeous, unstoppable rush. Watching it was like plunging down the Reichenbach Falls.
Missed you.
The Guardian, “Sherlock’s back and it’s fast, fun, flashy, fantastic,” [x] (via thecutteralicia)
“Heaven Sent” is the most emotionally grueling episode of Series 9 — and I say that as someone who outright sobbed at “Face the Raven” — but it is undoubtedly the best episode of the series. Part character examination, part puzzle box, part recurring nightmare, “Heaven Sent” was stunningly written, beautifully directed, and supported with an amazing score. And everyone involved in its production — particularly Peter Capaldi, Steven Moffat, and Rachel Talalay — deserve all the awards that can possibly be given for creating such an incredible, difficult, beautiful episode.
I’ve had to sit with this episode review for a very long time. At first I thought I needed to watch “Hell Bent” before I could come back and finish writing this. Then, after the script for “Heaven Sent” was released, I thought I needed to read the script a few times before finishing my review. That didn’t help much though. After I read it, I sat there with the script for a while just thinking “…how?” Finally, after having read the script while watching the episode, I think the only honest thing I can say is that this will be an episode I could return to over and over again and still discover something new about it.
On the first watch I marveled at how “Heaven Sent” managed to build up this overwhelming sense of dread as the Doctor moved over and over through the same repeating pattern. For an awful moment I thought that the Doctor was eternally trapped in his own recurring nightmare, until the triumphant reveal that the Doctor was very slowly progressing, beating the Time Lords at their own game.
On the second watch I sat in mute horror, wondering if the Doctor put himself through over 4 billion years of torture just to save Clara, or whether there was a small part of him that also just wanted to spite the Time Lords for attempting to get him to play by their rules.
On my third time watching the episode, with the script open in front of me, I realized that the Doctor’s perspective on Clara throughout the entire episode was his perspective on her in the moment before she died — with her back to him. It’s at once both tragic and accusatory.
“Heaven Sent” is not just a visual delight — it’s a visual puzzle box for viewers as much as it is a puzzle for the Doctor. Every new scene reveals more hints and clues about the nightmare the Doctor is trapped in. Each scene provides a new level of tragedy or insight into the Doctor’s personality. The pacing keeps you on your toes the entire time, swinging between fear and dread and grief and triumph with each subtle shift in the recurring pattern. This is one of those episodes that doesn’t lose its impact on a re-watch, even though the trap and its solution have already been revealed. Watching the Doctor go through the motions of grief and discovery every single time remains just as grueling as the first watch.
The central conceit of the episode provides a pretty interesting insight into how the Doctor’s mind works. Does it surprise anyone that the Doctor’s purgatory would be a giant puzzle with a mysterious force chasing him down endless shifting corridors? In an alternate world where the Time Lords aren’t massive idiotic assholes, it’s not hard to imagine that this could have been a way for the Doctor to make his confessions and find peace. So many of his fears and so much of his guilt is wrapped up in situations just like this one. It could have been a way for him to confront his fear of dying, to release his secrets, and to finally let go of his grief and his guilt for all of his friends who have died when he led them into similar situations.
Perhaps it could’ve been the final confrontation he needed to be at peace with dying. No more attempting to work out mysterious plots, no need to find a clever solution, and no more running — “I’ve finally run out of corridor. There’s a life summed up.” Maybe this was one fight he didn’t need to win.
Of course, the Time Lords had to ruin everything. It would’ve been bad enough to attempt to torture the Doctor for information about the Hybrid, but perverting a tool meant to bring the Doctor peace and using his fears and guilt against him is particularly cruel.
Underneath this incredibly intricate plot is a beautifully touching examination of just how much the Doctor’s companions mean to him, and how crucial they are to his success and survival.
In Doctor Who’s version of the Mind Palace, Clara is the voice that keeps the Doctor grounded on the questions he needs to answer. There’s a rather interesting visual dichotomy set up between how the Doctor thinks through a problem and how the companions force him to think through a problem. On the TARDIS screens we see schematics and mathematics as the Doctor thinks through the mechanics of a problem: how high up is the window, how fast will he fall into the ocean, what are his odds of remaining conscious, what are his chances of survival? But on the chalkboards, where Clara is working through the puzzle, we see the bigger picture questions: what is the creature, what is this place, how are you going to win? And the questions are relentless. When the Doctor is ready to give in, Clara is there to remind him of why he needs to keep going.
There’s also a very meta commentary on the importance of the audience in every episode of Doctor Who. The companion often acts as the audience stand-in, asking the questions we need answered in order to understand what’s happening in each episode. But the Doctor also needs the companion as audience stand-in, which is hinted at with a wink and a nod in the fourth-wall breaking line: “I’m nothing without an audience.” Without the companion and the audience, who’s forcing the Doctor to think about how he’s going to survive? (Or, who’s going to appreciate when he does something exceedingly clever?) It’s a clever way of turning the normal audience-character relationship on its head, picturing the audience not just as someone who needs to be hand-held through each episode, but as an active participant who influences the final outcome.
But most importantly, Clara’s voice is the one that keeps the Doctor from succumbing to his guilt and grief. Even when she’s not present, Clara challenges him to stop focusing on himself and start examining what is happening around him. She will not let him use her death as an excuse for his actions. And even in the Doctor’s most desperate, pained moment, he can’t imagine Clara saying anything other than: “Get up off your arse and win.”
For an episode that is so intensely focused on the Doctor and his pain, it’s a startling moment of self-awareness. And that is where I think “Face the Raven,” “Heaven Sent,” and “Hell Bent” truly succeed as a three-part series finale. There is a Big Moment that forms the emotional hook for the finale — Clara’s departure — but the aim isn’t just to shock the viewer with a traumatic exit. Rather, the aim of this finale is to examine and challenge the Doctor’s attitude to death, endings, and loss.
“Heaven Sent” gives the Doctor the space to express and process his grief while also setting the stage for the criticism that he is not entitled to react to it however he wants. As devastating and physically painful as the events of “Heaven Sent” are for him, they do not justify or excuse the actions he is about to take in “Hell Bent.”
It’s this type of character examination that makes “Heaven Sent” one of those episodes that I could watch over and over again. I could read and write pages of commentary on the Doctor’s concept of purgatory. I want to linger over every single beautiful shot captured in gifsets. I want to re-read and annotate the script while watching a Director’s cut that includes all the scenes that didn’t make it into the final edit.
“Heaven Sent” was, quite simply, an extraordinary piece of television.
