The Power of the Doctor is the Most Emotionally Mature Episode of Doctor Who

(or "Power, Identity and Growth, How The Power of the Doctor Acknowledges the Human Experience")

“Alright, Doctor Whoever-I’m-about-to-be … Tag! You’re it!”

The Doctor’s final words aren’t just about passing the torch to the next Doctor, it’s a sign that she accepts her Sisyphean fate: she is at peace with the fact that she is destined to forever push the same boulder up the same hill, only for the boulder to be kicked out of her hands before she gets to the top. She’s passing not a torch, but a boulder and wishing the next Sisyphus luck. What is Doctor Who if not the story of the same person learning the same lessons over and over again, in different ways? This might seem like a depressing concept, but I argue that accepting this truth of the human condition is the most empowering and emboldening thing we can do. The Power of the Doctor might be the first story to fully accept this fact, and because of that its message of growth and change is more meaningful than its has ever been.

The truth of the human condition is that we enjoy the same things, repeat the same patterns of tasks, and tell the same stories over and over again until we die. That’s why we love Doctor Who! We never get tired of watching Daleks getting blown up, or watching a new scary-looking actor whisper “I am the Master … and you will obey me!” Life is a remix of flavors and colors and we, like the Doctor, are ready to experience it. The Power of the Doctor, beyond just being a simple farewell to the Thirteenth Doctor’s era, is a symbol of recognition, a sign of maturity from a show that knows what it is. The inclusion of (finally!) multiple classic Doctors is the clearest demonstration of that recognition. No de-aging. No CGI. Here are the old actors in all their aged glory! The ultimate tragedy of every Doctor, and every Doctor Who era, is that they tend to find footing right when they’re about to walk off stage (to the agony of every Doctor Who fan). But isn’t that just how it’s supposed to be?

The return of classic Doctors is a happy/sad reminder of the actors brief stints on the show. Yes, Tom Baker is absent only for scheduling reasons, but I’d argue the fact that the Thirteenth Doctor comes face to face with her 1st, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th incarnations sends the message home much harder. The Doctor is looking into the eyes of “failed” Doctors. I use the word “failed” not in the sense that they are failed incarnations of the Doctor to us (in fact I would argue those are some of the best incarnations!) but rather, in the Doctor’s own eyes, these faces represent memories of failure to her. The Thirteenth Doctor coming face to face with, for example, Jon Pertwee or Tom Baker, might muddy the message. Those Doctors had long stints, and they spent their time being confidently, calmly in control of every situation they were in. Compare the emotional resonance of that with the appearance of the Fifth Doctor, who in this episode, with one single key word acknowledges his past failures: “Adric.”

Each of the Doctors presented had either a brief era, or an era cut unexpectedly short. I’ll quickly run down some of these, and how they emotionally resonate with Jodie Whittaker’s own run.

The First Doctor: His stint is the longest of the Doctors presented here. The Doctor dies of exhaustion/old age, while Hartnell left after a whopping 134 episodes. Even so, he comes to an end (in David Bradley’s portrayal) unexpectedly and unhappily. Despite finally finding solace in the (independently) cross eyes of his future self, this Doctor did resist his regeneration for as long as he could (perhaps an analogy for Hartnell’s real life struggle with letting go of the part). In the audience’s minds, seeing Bradley’s First Doctor immediately calls attention to the last time we saw him, with the words “I will not change!” suddenly echoing in our memory. That was, after all, Jodie’s first episode! It’s fitting that David Bradley’s First Doctor should bookend her era.

The Fifth Doctor: In the story of the show, the Fifth Doctor was the most human, the most fallible, and that made his stories some of the scariest. Quite boldly, the show did not try to replicate Tom Baker’s reassuring grin and exceptional wit, all that was gone, and in its place was a likeable but in-over-his-head young man. This was a stroke of brilliance in regards to dramatic storytelling, because when the stakes were high in the Fifth Doctor’s era, they felt really high! And with Adric’s tragic death and Tegan and Nyssa’s departures, the Fifth Doctor uttered the famous line “It seems I must mend my ways”. He was a Doctor who was trying to be better. And with Adric’s name on his lips as he regenerated, we know the desire to be stronger and smarter affected him deeply.

The Sixth Doctor: His full story sadly never came to fruition. Audiences don’t have much patience for long-spanning character arcs. But the Sixth Doctor’s harsher, more superior traits were a result of the Fifth’s failures. Colin Baker’s stint was axed before he got a chance to grow into the Doctor he was supposed to be (lucky there’s Big Finish). After a thirty-year absence from the show (having been booted off by an unloving BBC controller who blamed the show’s drop in ratings on him) seeing Colin Baker deliver wisdom and advice to the current incarnation of the Doctor is beyond satisfying. There was no room for a mention of Peri’s “death” and the Doctor’s many failures in that regard, though the Melanie Bush appearance was nice.

The Seventh and Eighth Doctors: The Wilderness Doctors, as I sometimes call them. These incantations have eras that are spread out over many different forms of media, with Eight famously being mostly audio and Seven famously having The Virgin New Adventures novels. Sylvester McCoy’s Doctor never got his fair ending, with the story arc of his secret past fizzling out in cancellation (leading to several contradictory endings for Ace’s story throughout multiple media), and Paul McGann’s TV pilot sadly never generating a series. The Master refers to Seven as the “Machiavellian Maestro” and taunts Ace over her falling out with him (pick one). And as for Eight, well—he was the Doctor who decided to fight in the Time War. Quite literally the Doctor who abandoned the name Doctor. That was the last time viewers saw him. Both Doctors are treated with the right air of respect and dignity, and Seven even acknowledges his failure, but Ace has none of it: “You never failed me, professor. I’m the person I am today because of you.”

If we’re to consider Ace the end product of the Seventh Doctor’s “failure”, then he never really “failed”. Yes, perhaps he failed at making Ace into the person he envisioned—but that’s how we got the amazing person Ace became! This shows how we never really “fail”. Failure is apart of the journey to finding out who we’re meant to be.

Now consider all of that history, both textual and intertextual, the real story of the history of the show’s production, and the fictional story the show has presented in all these years. Consider the story of a character who is constantly fighting, not just Daleks and Cybermen, but himself. Herself. Themself. Fighting to become the person they want to be. Always striving to be better.

Enter The Master. The Doctor’s absolute opposite. And her equal. All of that failure, all of that history and regret, is nothing in the face of the Master, who, we discover, hates himself far more than the Doctor ever could. The Master wants nothing more than to be someone—anyone—else. Why else do you think he's always wearing silly disguises? Always masking his real intent with lies and secrets only to reveal it all in the eleventh hour (usually making for great cliffhangers). Like Gus Fring in Breaking Bad, the Master relishes in his disguise. He loves to obscure himself, and operate from beneath the surface. But unlike Gus Fring, the Master does it out of neccessity. It's his only way of tolerating himself. Always I’m brought back to the persistence of hate within love, and love within hate, two sides of the same coin, a psychological concept that only clicks with me in fantasy. Tolkien put it best with Gandalf’s words in The Lord of the Rings, his description of Gollum:

“He hates and loves the ring, just as he hates and loves himself.”

The film adaptations simplify Gollum's behavior as a result of a split personality, but it is far deeper than that. All psychopaths, monsters and dictators have this contradictory sense of self. They are at all times patting themselves on the back and congratulating their own brilliance, while also desperately seeking out approval and affection from others because they feel inadequate and incomplete. It’s why the “Join me!” trope is so heavily echoed throughout all stories of good vs evil. Evil will self-immolate without good. The Master will destroy himself if he didn’t have the Doctor. She is his ring, and he is always trying to possess her, driven by his intense hatred and love for her. But the cognitive dissonance is failing, and Sacha Dhawan’s brilliantly dark, disturbed portrayal of the character has a sense of self-hatred that’s grown so great and all-encompassing that he can no longer bear his own existence, or play this game of cat and mouse anymore. He cannot bear being only one half of the same coin. He must absorb the other side of the coin, finally devouring the love that opposes his hatred.

It’s not just about removing bodily autonomy from the Doctor, about erasing her and spoiling the image of her goodness for all time, it’s about the Master’s own desire to finally become one with himself, and attain his own false sense of autonomy. But it is an unachievable goal as long as his identity is a lie, and as long as he burns with hatred. In this way both the Master and the Doctor are trying to achieve the same thing for themselves. They want to become the person they are meant to be. But the Master is, ultimately, a coward. He projects his rejection of self onto the Doctor. "If I can't be the Doctor, than neither can you!" He believes this is her greatest fear, when really it's just his.

Ultimately the Doctor moves on into her next identity with more strength and grace than he had the courage to exist within his own: "I erased you, Doctor!" The Master says, petulantly:"Don't let me go back to being me." Any hate I feel for the Master is outweighed by my pity for him. What an incredible character, and what a perfect incarnation of the villain to go up against Jodie's Doctor! Farewell Sacha, and thank you for a remarkably twisted performance.

The truth of the human condition, that the Master could never understand, is that we never become the person we are striving to be. Instead, we accidentally find ourselves through that journey. Like how Seven found Ace. Sisyphus’ purpose is not to get the boulder to the very top of that hill. His purpose is to try. And he becomes the person he was meant to be through trying. It’s the sacrifice of life that we all lead. In that way this silly little science fiction series, who’s very name is that question of striving, embraces the joy and ecstasy and suffering that is the human experience. All of us are striving to be something we will ultimately fail to become, but through our failure we will find who we really are. “Doctor Who?” is the answer and the question.

She is Doctor Who just as much as she is The Doctor.

“No! Not now! I need more time! I want more time!” Jodie’s Doctor lets out a brief cry of agony, and the sentiment is shared by all of us. But then she quickly finds her footing (as the Doctor always does) and reassures Yaz (and us): “Hey, it’s alright, Yaz. It’s alright.” The Doctor faces her mortality at last with peace and acceptance, recognizing her place as the ultimate galactic yoyo. The hamster on the emotional treadmill that is Doctor Who. The Power of the Doctor perfectly illustrates the power of this show. And that is the true “Power of the Doctor”, her will. Her strength. Her choice to always go on, to always strive to be better no matter how many times she (supposedly) “fails”.

We all want more time. And when we lose that time, we realize how special it was. And it has been so special, hasn't it? Jodie Whittaker’s Doctor, who at first seemed (to some) like a rejection of the show’s history, became a summation of the show’s complete and final legacy. She is and will always be The Doctor.

“Alright, Doctor Whoever-I’m-about-to-be … Tag! You’re it!” And again, the journey begins anew.

We couldn’t have asked for more perfect final words.

(art by me)