a certain shade of blue

I didn’t have a single image to sum up my feelings about David Bowie.  I had too many, and many of them musical... and I didn’t post anything about it. I don’t actually associate Alan Rickman with Harry Potter, I mean there’s the obvious association, but he’s so many more roles to me, roles that had a greater influence on me... so I am a bit surprised how striking this raising of the wands for the fallen image has taken hold of me.  (Ha, especially considering there are images of Alan Rickman as the Angel Metatron all over the internet)...

Oh no!  On no. I did not like it.  I did not like it one bit, well maybe some bits, it was beautiful, it was well acted... but, but I didn’t like it.  (I liked parts.  I’m a big supporter of Doctor Who, so even when it’s bad, I’ll find something to love about.)  This time it wasn’t “bad”, it just felt... it felt wrong.

Last series when Doctor Who ended before Christmas I was gutted, but in this weird beautiful way of: “Wow.  That’s how it works sometimes, I can point to times in my life where something like this, some grand ironic misunderstanding has undermined happiness for both parties.” But tonight I found myself thinking: “Wait, what?  So in what universe would I allow myself, or be allowed to forget the person I loved most?  That’s not how it works.  Sometimes people we love die.  And it breaks our hearts and we’d do anything to bring them back, but I’ll be damned if I’d ever willingly press a button on a steampunked channel changer to forget about them.”  The Doctor forgetting Clara did not save her.  She remains in the same state, now she can have “long way round” adventures with Me, but she could have done so with The Doctor.

Such a brilliant job was done over series 8 & 9 to build Clara’s character, her relationship to the Doctor, his relationship to her.  It was wonderful, it allowed the fantastic complexity that Peter Capaldi was able to bring to “Heaven Sent”, his conversations with not-Clara in his Storm Room were wonderful.  I’ve spoken out loud to people I’ve lost, it’s a comfort, it’s a coping mechanism.  It was beautiful and consoling to see that, to empathize with it. 

I also loved Clara, she was great, I didn’t like her character until series 8 got started, then she skyrocketed to be my favourite.  She was complicated, real, adult, vibrant... and she died.  And when she died I was sad.  But then Heaven Sent happened, and I found myself really wanting her to STAY DEAD.  Because it was real, it had effect, it impacted the story.  I mean of course I want the Doctor to save her and run off and have adventures together forever, but something about the gravity of “People die.  It hurts.  But we can’t stop it from happening” I accepted.  And I was a little concerned that we’d have a mopey Doctor for series 10, which we’ve done with Tennant’s doctor and it got old, I get it.  Happy fun loving Doctor is better, but a happy fun loving Doctor because he wiped his memory of someone he so dearly loved?  That’s a cheap reset button. And Santa didn’t show up at the end and save the day. (*I’ve heard people comment on Moffat’s inability to kill characters and keep them dead, this is irrelevant to my thoughts, I know he wrote it, so my disappointment falls at his feet, but it’s nothing personal, the relationship I loved so much, found so believable and grand, that’s his creation too, I just thought he cheapened it in the end.  Basically, this rant of mine isn’t Moffat-bashing, I am fine with him.) All I can think is among the bright shining candy coated Christmas special, and possibly episodes after we’re going to have a laughing, puzzled, crotchety-but-still-adorably-so man running around wielding a magic wand (happy to have the sonic screwdriver back) but his smile and laugh are just dressing over a empty hole, and that disappoints me.  I am not “devastated”, I was last year, but it was handled so beautifully.  This time I’m just disappointed. I will still watch this episode again (Tuesday night with my boyfriend, it’s how we roll.)  And maybe my understanding will change, maybe I’ll be excited about Clara and Me’s adventure’s we’ll never see, maybe I’ll hold out for her to cross paths with The Doctor again and he’ll put it all together again, who she is, etc.  but that feels like beating a dead horse.  Or a horse with no pulse.

All I can think is Eleven’s determination to fix it when Amy forgot Rory, and I feel like that about Twelve.  I want him to fix it, to put it back together.  This is a weird way to deal with consequences by forgetting there were consequences to begin with.

And let’s put ourselves in Clara’s shoes when the adrenaline wears off, and she realizes her death is still ahead of her, no matter how much she runs (isn’t it for everyone), and her best friend has forgotten her, and is off meandering about with a thin vapor of a story, not even a memory, just a melody.