Series 10: The Eaters of Light Review (Part 2)

Note: this review contains full spoilers for episode 10 of Series 10.

• See Part 1 of Clint’s review here.

Writer Rona Munro fully grasps the potential of Doctor Who’s time travel premise, which contrasts familiar characters with alien concepts and gives the audience a safe place to explore some of society’s harshest realities. Her script for “The Eaters of Light” not only delivers Series 10’s most insightful look at both Bill’s sexual identity and development as a companion, it capitalizes on Munro’s unique ability to comment on the Doctor’s maturation, post-Survival, and expands the show’s mythology by explaining the repeated references to music, within the narrative. While Munro’s exceptional character work is stunning, it would be a disservice to not review the many other ways “The Eaters of Light” stands out as a highlight of Series 10.

Doctor Who often travels to Earth’s past to explain “what really happened” to some of history’s most famous celebrities (answer: aliens). What happened to Shakespeare’s lost play, Love’s Labours Won, or to Agatha Christie, who disappeared for ten days, in 1926? Why did Vincent van Gogh start painting sunflowers? Why did NASA visit the Moon? “The Eaters of Light” proffers a similarly fantastic explanation for the Ninth Roman Legion, which disappeared from the historical record in 108. Further, the idea that crows can talk, but that they now only say “Kar,” to honor the girl who sacrificed herself, leading the last of the Ninth Roman Legion into battle, is a reversal of Doctor Who’s practice of imbuing everyday items and occurrences – – stone statues, shadows, creaking floors, the feeling that something is behind you – – with terrible malice.

Munro shows similar consideration in devising the pseudoscience necessary to explain a light-eating locust from another dimension.

the Doctor: “It’s as if his bones disintegrated.”

Nardole: “What could do that?”

the Doctor: “A complete and total absence of any kind of sunlight.”

Nardole: “Death by Scotland.”

While the joke is funny, there is some truth to it. Often, people who live in areas of high latitude – – including Scotland – – are not exposed to enough sunlight to produce the adequate amount of vitamin D necessary to protect their bones. Could such an extreme example happen, even in total darkness? No, but, considering that vitamin D helps your body absorb calcium and phosphorus – – minerals important to bone health and strength – – it is evident that Munro gave this plot point a modicum of scientific consideration.

Most impressive, however, is that Munro capitalizes on Doctor Who’s premise to create an entertaining episode that has something important to say. During a conversation with the Doctor, Kar decries the invading Roman army as “cowards” who invade and plunder, decimating entire families and their traditions. The Doctor counters that these “cowards” are dead, disproving both her assertion that they are cowardly and the necessity of her continued virulence. Claiming to have killed the invading army, does she still have any right to be angry? Has justice not been wrought? The Doctor understands the destructive power of unchecked anger and urges against it, in his usual, gruff manner.

The narrative never turns away from the moral conundrum at the crux of the episode. “There is no time for fighting!” Bill yells, in the episode’s most important scene. “We never wanted to fight!” Kar explains to Lucius, “We lived in peace, and then you came and laid waste to everything and everyone we loved. All you understand is war!” Bill intercedes: “No, he understands. Now, he’s wondering, ‘Why?’” The line is Series 10’s most clever example of wordplay, because it works in two ways. First, Lucius does understand war, but, because he is experiencing the same senses of fear, loss, and isolation as Kar, Lucius is wondering why he fights, why war exists. Second, Lucius understands Kar’s words, because of the TARDIS’ telepathic circuits, and he is wondering why this is possible. In yet another scene unique to Doctor Who, the two realize that they now share a common language, allowing then to recognize their similarities and communicate their differences. “You speak Latin?” Lucius stammers. “I don’t,” Kar responds. “Neither do I, not a word,” Bill says. “And I don’t speak whatever they speak, either,” she continues, emphasizing that she speaks from a neutral perspective. “So, now that we all understand each other, how do we all sound?” The answer: “Like children.”

Following this scene, the episode’s climax is convenient, though not trite. Kar grows up and “fight[s her] fight,” the Roman soldiers atone for their cowardice, and the crows continue to herald Kar’s name. In an episode that focuses heavily on the examination of themes, the resolution of the plot is less important, but not unnecessary. While it is nice that Munro devotes enough time to allow for a proper resolution – – something similar character study-cum-slow burn invasion epic “The Power of Three” fails to do – – all of the storylines are too-neatly resolved.

The episode’s main drawback is that a large part of the action occurs at dawn or dusk, when the threat of the monster either increases or subsides. However, it is notoriously difficult to film under these quickly shifting light conditions, and production crews often shoot within several hours of dusk or dawn – – sometimes even swapping one for the other – – and then adjust the resulting color saturation and hue in post-production. The editing of “The Eaters of Light” does not balance the noticeably varied light levels, causing the audience to question when events are taking place, which confuses the narrative. Scenes seemingly shift from dawn to dusk in a matter of minutes, with little explanation for what happens during long expanses of unaccounted time. The matter is compounded further, when Bill is rendered unconscious for two days due to “black slime” on her neck – – a red herring whose only real payoff is that it provides a way for the action to remain concurrent with Bill, after the Doctor experiences the time dilation.

Still, the quality of Rona Munro’s script elevates “The Eaters of Light” above any narrative confusion caused by the editing. A standout of Series 10, the episode delivers on several levels, most notably its examination of identity and maturation, and its deconstruction of the series’ themes. Hopefully, future showrunner Chris Chibnall will continue to mine Who’s classic era for talented artists, like Munro, who’ve had years to contemplate how to similarly capitalize on the potential of Doctor Who’s unique premise.