2nd Opinion: The Girl Who Died
David Selby and Connor Johnston give their verdicts on the 5th episode of Series 9.
David’s Verdict
I might as well start off by saying that that was the best episode of this series so far, and honestly one of the best of the entire Capaldi era. It’s not quite Listen, and it doesn’t have the same experimental significance as a lot of Moffat classics, but it thrives by essentially telling an ordinary Doctor Who story with a few killer twists.
A lot of this does rely on the fact that Doctor Who has reached a point where the production quality is consistently superb – this episode wouldn’t look quite as good if the show wasn’t capable of sweeping shots over a Viking village, or a panoramic time-lapse; or if Murray Gold’s score was limited to a studio – or even if the two lead actors weren’t potentially the best we’ve ever had. On the other hand, however, The Girl Who Died is just a sublimely good script, and is strengthened by the fact that it’s a heavy co-write, as there is an obvious balance of Mathieson’s premise-conscious plotting within the structure of the episode, and Moffat’s profound lyricism within its dialogue. It is both one of the most direct and one of the most poetic episodes in recent years, favouring honesty and sentiment over excessive complexity, and favouring ordinary human lives over the grandiose and mythical (which makes its connection with The Fires of Pompeii all the more meaningful; an episode where the Doctor literally takes on the role of a household god).
The episode does itself a lot of favours by making it abundantly clear what is and isn’t to be taken seriously. One of many issues with Before the Flood was the use of the Fisher King, but here Mathieson underlines from the start that Odin is not to be taken seriously (for crying out loud, the guy drinks mashed Vikings to affirm his manhood), and instead chooses to focus on the enjoyment and hilarity of his defeat and humiliation. If The Girl Who Died seems at all underwhelming, it’s because rather than the epic and threatening, it opts for a story about fiction and reputation, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think Doctor Who is at its best when it is, fundamentally, a story about stories.
I particularly enjoyed Capaldi and Coleman this week. Not only was this Capaldi’s strongest episode to date, but it was another nourishing instalment for the dynamic. As the character moments move towards the foreboding, I find myself dreading Clara’s exit as much as ever. But within this came a lot of the episode’s appeal – it was an amusing, even occasionally hilarious ‘romp’ episode skewed deliberately by a constant sense of doom (and belief in premonition) on an almost Shakespearean scale. One of the best things about this episode was the fact that it was called The Girl Who Died.
Is it biased or unfitting that I agree wholly with my co-reviewer this week? I don’t think so: I certainly don’t plan to search for flaws in a story so good it reminds me why I became a fan in the first place. For the first time since Listen, I finished a Doctor Who episode feeling fully satisfied with what I’d watched and anticipating its follow-up. It was clever, funny, sad and exciting, to borrow some elementary adjectives, and that’s not just the kind of thing Doctor Who is at its best – it’s what Doctor Who should be every week, and what I’m hoping to see from the rest of the season.
Connor’s Verdict
Doctor Who has always prided itself on its ability to disguise the true nature of its episodes through branding. This week, one might have expected a light-hearted, action packed narrative centred on Vikings and aliens garnished a smidgen of mystery – which, granted, is exactly what “The Girl Who Died” may appear to be on the surface level. In reality however, we are left with an episode that tackles the consequences of immortality and the magnitude of both the Doctor’s influence and ability. This all occurs in a character driven piece that is so elegantly executed it blurs the lines between written dialogue and pure poetry. The script goes so much further than your average “plot of the week” scenario and rewardingly invests a great deal of time into exploring the motivations and mindsets of its characters. This is not the episode it appears to be on the tin – it’s a mixture of a historical adventure, with moments that touch upon a humorous romp and even a deep emotional drama. In a way, “The Girl Who Died” is in itself, somewhat of a hybrid….
Despite in reflection not being of great consequence to the ethos of the episode, the Viking setting is done tremendous justice in the set up on the narrative – particularly through Edward Bazalgette’s cinematic direction. Similarly, the Mire and David Schofield’s “False Odin” work well as comically narcissistic villains whose power is built upon reputation rather than actual ability. These narrative elements aren’t forgotten throughout the course of the episode, but rather gives way to something of monumental significance the show. In the same vein to the criminally underrated “The Power of Three”, the initial plot of the episode fittingly takes a back seat to the true purpose of the script. This is not “The Vikings of Valhalla”, nor “The Mire Terror” (Regardless how great these episodes sound!) – The episode is titled “The Girl Who Died” and its focus and emphasis on the character of Ashildr, the seamless setup for next week’s expository piece and finally the exploration of the Doctor and Clara’s relationship is nothing short of ingenious and gripping.
One can’t help but notice the heavy sense of foreshadowing riddled through this week’s episode. A constant reoccurrence throughout the last 5 episodes has been heavy mentioning of Clara’s mortality, and consequentially the Doctor’s attachment to her. This week again the pairs chemistry is showcased beautifully, particularly in the scenes where the two are left to converse alone:
“Look at you, with your eyes, and your never-giving-up, and your anger, and your… kindness. One day… the memory of that will hurt so much that I won’t be able to breathe, and I’ll do what I always do. I’ll get in my box and I’ll run and I’ll run, in case all the pain ever catches up — and every place I go, it will be there.”
Similarly, Clara’s continuing development in becoming more and more alike to the Doctor remains appropriately prominent. This culminated in Clara’s confrontation with Odin, where Coleman performs one of her most captivating and convictive scenes of the character’s history.
While Series 8 sought to introduce and initiate Peter Capaldi’s Doctor into the show’s long history, Series 9 has sought to immortalise him with standout moments including his touching translation scene and grief at the loss of yet another innocent life. The episode also saw a tremendous amount of development to the Doctor’s personal story arc, specifically in the way of re-defining his attitude as we journey further into the series. The revisiting of the Doctor’s actions in Pompeii makes for a seamless connection between the two stories, and is a revelation that propels both plot and character. This realisation is the motivation the Doctor needs to break his own rules, which no doubt will have various consequences in the future.
Tonally, “The Girl Who Died” may just be one of the most watchable episodes of all time, bridging on humour and action to capture the audience’s enthusiasm and enjoyment while still embodying enough character development and arc relevance to cement its place in the series. It effortlessly transitions between moments of hilarity; including most memorably the training sequence and the Mire’s viral defeat, to moments of deep sincerity such as the Doctor and Clara’s conversations and Ashildr’s death.
While this episode has the quality to maintain itself as a standalone 2 parter, I can’t help but feel that possibly there’s more we’re missing. The first clue may lie in the striking scene between Ashildr and the Doctor discussing the importance of having a home to belong to: “There’s nowhere for me, except here. This is my place. The sky, the hills, the sea, the people… Is there nowhere like that for you?” Furthermore, when making the decision to break his own rules, the Doctor exclaims that anyone that may be watching him, like possibly an ancient civilisation who have for millennia monitored and maintained the laws of time – can go to hell. This strikes a clear connection to the title of the series finale: “Hell Bent”. Could it be “The Girl Who Died” has beared witness to the first hints of Gallifrey’s return? “Time will tell, it always does.”
Maisie Williams is simply a goddess of the silver screen. Even after her success in both “Game of Thrones” and “Cyberbully” – Williams has delivered a performance this week that has not only refuelled my admiration for the actress, but also introduced such an imperative character to the show. The pinnacle of her performance is easily in the closing 30 seconds of the episode – which is simply beautiful. The atmosphere, emotion and development that occurs in such a short scene that has literally no dialogue is astounding – and truly is a crowning moment for both Maisie and director Edward Bazalgette. Not to be forgotten is the exemplary Murray Gold, who this week’s provides a score that is so diverse and appropriate; ranging from the triumphant Viking theme to the poignant, more reflective closing tracks.
“The Girl Who Died” has leant itself to be the perfect premise towards next week’s enthralling conclusion to Ashildr’s storyline as we are left to ponder what penalties immortality can have on a young girl; and more significantly, on the universe. Where the episode further succeeds is by giving the series a solid sense of direction by focussing on the Doctor’s attitudes and motivations, as well dangerously sacrificing his reverence for consequence.
While this episode may be the year’s most divisive among the fanbase so far, critically and by the majority of fans “The Girl Who Died” has maintained (and possibly even increased) the quality of an implausibly strong series that shows no sign of slowing down as we reach the halfway mark next week.
