Series 10: Thin Ice Review

Clint Hassell gives his verdict on the third episode of Doctor Who Series 10.

Note: this review contains full spoilers for episode 3 of Series 10.

In “Thin Ice,” the Doctor and Bill find themselves in 1814, and decide to break from the contiguous events of “Smile” and “The Pilot” to experience England’s last frost fair. So often, Doctor Who’s narrative only mentions the pleasurable trips the Doctor and his companions take in the TARDIS – – Ten seeing an Elvis Presley concert, with Rose, or the Apollo 11 moon landing, with Martha; Eleven, Amy, and Rory visiting The Savoy – – so, it is fun to see Twelve and Bill enjoying the benefits of time travel. As the two sample the local cuisine and festivities, Bill continues to ask sensible questions: “What are the rules of time travel?” “Is it dangerous?” “Are there physical symptoms?” This series of queries flesh out the concept of time travel within the series’ mythology; the Doctor’s dictum that visiting the past, and inadvertently affecting the present, is no different than living in the present, and making purposeful changes to affect one’s future, is a subtle, inspirational challenge. More importantly, Bill’s questions make her an excellent audience surrogate, furthering Series 10’s thesis that Doctor Who works best when the titular question is explored via the companion character. In keeping with this theme, “Thin Ice” is specifically crafted around the unique storytelling possibilities offered by both actress Pearl Mackie and her character, Bill Potts.

In the episode, Bill encounters death for the first time, having been distracted enough during the firefight with the Emojibots, in “Smile,” to have not seen the Vardi consume one of the colonists. The Doctor, having already deduced that saving the orphaned pickpocket is an impossibility, seems more concerned with retrieving his sonic screwdriver. This doesn’t sit well with Bill, whose emotional state quickly escalates to include both anger and disgust. It is here that the careful planning of Series 10 is evident as its first three interlinked episodes not only act as a thematic unit, but also provide an in-narrative reason for Bill’s emotional outburst – – by this point, she has been awake for at least 24 consecutive hours. Pearl Mackie demonstrates her theatrical background, imbuing her performance with an immediacy inherent to live theatre.

Bill’s interrogation is fair. “If you care so much, tell me how many people you’ve seen die,” she demands. “How many before you lost count?” “I care, Bill, but I move on,” the Doctor responds, an obvious sidestep of the question, considering the Doctor knows the exact number of Gallifreyans who perished in the Time War and can recall each of the deaths he assumes responsibility for, in “Journey’s End.” “Have you ever killed anyone?” Bill continues, her face a mix of fear, disappointment, and exhaustion. The scene is unquestionably Mackie’s and it is to Peter Capaldi’s credit that he reigns in his portrayal of the Doctor to place the focus on Bill’s reaction. Series 10 has demonstrated beautifully that the Doctor’s enigmatic nature is more effectively revealed through the companion’s eyes than through one of the Doctor’s trademark speeches. Note that, later in the episode, the Doctor’s signature sermon is dismissed by a compassionless Sutcliffe – – a subtle jab at the Doctor’s many blustery speeches in previous series.

Bill is undeniably written as a lead character, a status denied previous companion Clara Oswald at a similar, early point in her tenure, due to Clara’s plot device-cum-characterization as an “impossible girl” mystery for the Doctor to solve. While Series 7 did include stories that highlighted Clara’s maternal nature – – one of her early character’s few defining features – – that persona was abandoned entirely in the wake of her bossy, control freak makeover, in Series 8. Note that the Doctor wins Bill over by caring for the gang of street urchins, appealing to three of the things that have thus far defined Bill: her relative lack of family, her sensitivity towards death, and her career as a food server. The references to continuity are subtle, but deliciously layered in aspects of Bill’s character.

The best evidence that “Thin Ice” is specifically tailored to Bill, and the strengths of the actress portraying her, occurs in the episode’s teaser. When the Doctor suggests that they visit the frost fair, Bill’s first thought is that “slavery is still totally a thing,” a line later revealed to be foreshadowing, as the Doctor and Bill discover an underwater beast in chains. Rather than downplay the subject by filling the background cast with minority actors – – not an unfair practice, as the promise of science fiction is to create the idealized world we want to see, even here, in retrospect – – the episode addresses the issue of race, from the beginning. “History’s a whitewash,” states the Doctor.

While specifically scripting an episode involving slavery and racism for a new, multiracial character risks being considered insensitive, reductive, or even exploitive, “Thin Ice” is written with such sensitivity and depth – – and Bill is again highlighted as a realistic, complex character – – that it is difficult to find fault with the episode. At its best, science fiction uses its fantastic premise to illuminate an aspect of the human experience; “Thin Ice” proves itself to be not just a wonderful example of science fiction’s potential, but one of Doctor Who’s best episodes centered around social issues. To see the Doctor so angered by Sutcliffe’s “fairly convincing racism” that he’d be moved to fisticuffs makes as much of a statement about the evils of intolerance as the literal chains around, or the moaning wails of, the “monster” beneath the frozen Thames.

While the creature of “Thin Ice” certainly draws parallels to the star whale in “The Beast Below,” the threat of the anglerfish makes more narrative sense than the robotic Winders, and Twelve’s forcing his multiracial companion to decide the fate of the enslaved beast bears more emotional resonance than even Eleven’s contemplated mercy killing. “Thin Ice” reconceives the philosophical debate from “Kill the Moon” as a moral dilemma, cleverly proffering Bill’s face, rather than that of the beast below the Thames, as its best argument against racial oppression.

The slavery symbolism in “Thin Ice” is as layered as the trap street metaphor in writer Sarah Dollard’s previous script, “Face the Raven,”* but lacks that episode’s problems – – the characterization of Rigsy and Ashildr, which ignored their previous appearances; the narrative senselessness of Clara’s death – – that could be blamed on Dollard’s standalone story being repurposed for Series 9. That “Thin Ice” capitalizes on Dollard’s ability to craft capable allegory and to organically debate a moral issue within the confines of the narrative, demonstrates both her talent and the amount of planning that has gone into crafting each episode to enhance Series 10’s overarching themes.

*Read Clint’s analysis of “Face the Raven” here.