Doctor Who: Kerblam!

The Doctor: 'I'm The Doctor. I'm new. And you are?'

This episode was thoroughly absorbing, not necessarily because it was good, but because it had a lot going on, was deceptively layered, and had such an elusive central message. This season's been blighted by a general lack of complexity; well, tonight that all changed, and I'm not altogether sure it was deliberate. Let's dig in and become unconfused together. Maybe.

Immediately after airing, the internet was awash with conflicting opinions as to the story's defining themes. Some were saying it was pro-capitalist because of how it portrayed Kerblam; others were saying it was anti-capitalist because of Charlie's criticism of big business; some insisted that it wasn't about capitalism at all, but was about the potential threat of AI; and others opined that it wasn't even about AI, it was about the need for a balance between humans and technology. In other words, hardly anyone knew what the episode was trying to say, and instead chose to read their personal politics into the grey areas. Spoiler alert: I'm now going to do the same.

At the heart of the story was a fairly straightforward idea. Kerblam was created whilst mankind was distracted by technology: it was efficient to a fault, mostly self-regulating, and was portrayed as a positive force due to it providing jobs and a pleasant working environment during a period of high unemployment. In short: Kerblam was good, Kerblam was caring, Kerblam was ubiquitous. Kerblam was also man-made, so its shortcomings rather than being Kerblam's fault, were a reflection of their user's weaknesses, lack of foresight, and poor values. Oh... and the Doctor loves the Kerblam man. I mean, she really loves him and says it a lot just so we know it's true.

Enter Charlie: he hates Kerblam. He hates that automation has largely supplanted humanity in the workforce, he fears Kandoka's ten percent rule is the beginning of mankind's trip down the slippery slope to obscurity, and by virtue of his age, he's both politically pro-active and willing to go to extreme lengths to bring about change. In other words: he's in his twenties. He thus hatches a plot to sabotage Kerblam via terroristic means, manages to somehow weaponize bubble wrap, falls in love with the lovely Kira, accidentally gets her killed, and then runs the wrong way towards a soon-to-explode army and ultimately gets blown to pieces. The end!

Now, at its most simplistic, this more or less works. This is the essence of the story, and the Doctor's 'the systems aren't the problem, it's how people use and exploit the systems' speech makes sense when confined to this restricted context. The confusion arises not because the message is hard to fathom, but because it's balanced precariously atop a mass of politically charged plot dressing. To model Kerblam so obviously on Amazon, to make so many positive overtures towards capitalism, to ponder the encroachment of technology on modern society, and to then offer so little in terms of satire or meaningful social commentary, feels like a missed opportunity—especially at a time when our society is actively struggling with these very topics.

Charlie being a terrorist was also a hard sell, not because it was badly set up—it was actually quite deftly done—but because we're naturally resistant to people demonising the things we love and lauding the things we abhor. So a story which tries to portray cute lefty Charlie as the villain, whilst elevating Space Amazon to the level of saviour, although a delightful reversal of expectation, was always going to leave a bad taste. Despite working as a twist, it just instinctively felt wrong. And to add insult to injury, the fact that both of these things contributed directly to the death of Kira—an event barely commented on by the narrative—makes it feel doubly problematic. This is how it ends? With innocents dead and a platform ecosystem saving humanity?

But I repeat, these things aren't the episode's focus, they're what's left after the dust's settled and we've had a chance to survey the wreckage. McTighe wasn't trying to push the idea that Space Amazon will one day save the world, he was simply trying to provide a happier ending. Bad shit went down, and humanity got a better deal in the workplace. Isn't that wonderful? Unfortunately, it came at the cost of terrorism winning. Charlie's plan didn't quite play out as planned, but it achieved its intended result. Even Kerblam's switch to one hundred percent organics came at a price, with the workforce getting a measly two weeks pay for a four week lay-off. Which feels like further confirmation of the Doctor's words: it's not the system that's the problem, it's the fuckers controlling it. I paraphrase, obviously.

Outside the main narrative, there was a lot to like. I particularly enjoyed the intricacies of McTighe's plotting. Setting up Charlie as the villain by first establishing the invisibility of the maintenance crew, and then slyly introducing Maddox's soft spot for the downtrodden, was the sort of thoughtful setup that's been lacking all season. Likewise his use of Yaz's policing skills, and the return of Ryan's dyspraxia, offered up some simple character continuity for two of the show's most neglected characters. Sure Ryan mentioning how uncoordinated he was felt a little superfluous—it's not as if falling down a chute, or jumping off a conveyor belt with his hand over his eyes required much coordination—but I did appreciate the reminder.

One thing I wish they had shown rather than told was Yaz returning Dan's necklace to his daughter. It would have provided a far more effective coda than that final scene of Graham looking suspiciously at a box of bubble wrap. How that ending made the cut I'll never know. I also had issues with the Doctor admitting to having robot friends, chastising Graham and Ryan for being robophobic, and then going on to kill thousands of Kerblam men. You know, those dudes she really loves? It's this sort of obvious inconsistency that really irks, mainly because it's so easy to identify and rectify. Sadly, they never seem to bother.

And tonight saw yet another eroding of the Doctor's authority. Having a thousand thoughts constantly flowing through her brain is I think meant to be a character quirk, but all it does is stop her from doing her job. She's so confused by the endless stream of possibilities, that she becomes paralysed by doubt. I also didn't appreciate them rolling back the one time she did take charge. After telling Maddox that she'd be answerable to her if anything went awry, why did she then ask Yaz whether she'd been too bombastic? Who gives a shit what Yaz and Ryan think? You're the Doctor, for fuck's sake, and it's time to start owning it. It's as if they're terrified of letting her take charge, and for some reason want to filter every thought/decision/sentence through her companions. Why? Why doesn't she trust her own decisions any more, and why have her thinking processes become so unreliable?

Other Thoughts:

—I know I say it every week, but I'm getting sick of the sonic screwdriver overuse, and I'm starting to detest the weird superhero pose the Doctor adopts whilst scanning. You're not in the X-Men, Doc!

—'That's not a power drain, that's a total system blackout. Power's drained right down to the foundation levels.' So it's not a power drain, it's a power drain?

—Humans don't give a shit about bubble wrap these days, so why would robots find popping it so irresistible? This feels like a plot beat that's thirty years out of date.

—Very cartoonish performances from both Lee Mack and Julie Hesmondhaigh.

—Using the eleventh Doctor's fez order to set up the story, felt ridiculously unnecessary, and raised all manner of security concerns.

Quotes:

Graham: 'Space Postman. I've seen it all now.'

Ryan: 'We did it! We're not dead! We're totally not dead!'

Doctor: 'That's the problem with conspiracies. There's so much to think about.'

Kira: 'I'm just such a butterfingers.'
Charlie: 'I love butter.'