Short Trips is an
interesting Big Finish range. Sometimes the stories in the range are used to
give us ‘Tuesday Adventures,’ happenings in the life of our favourite Time Lord
or his companions that would never have made a full TV story. But the format
also allows for little jewels that deepen our understanding of what life on
board the Tardis can really be like, or moments that turn our appreciation of
people absolutely on its head.
This story, by Angus
Dunican…
You might need some
tissues to hand for this one. It’s a bit of a tear-jerker on several levels at
once.
Set in Paris in 1908, it
mostly tells the story of an early filmmaker named Céline Tessier, and how the
arrival of the Second Doctor, but more importantly, the arrival of Jamie McCrimmon
in her life changes her path forever.
Engaged to an illusionist
when they meet (the Doctor materialises the Tardis on his stage, which, to be
fair, is one hell of an illusion for the first decade of the 20th
century), Céline finds herself more and more taken with the hairy-legged
highlander as she strives over the course of a year to make her magnum opus, Le
Serpent Dans Le Jardin – The Snake In The Garden, for any
non-French-speakers, a title that represents temptation, forbidden fruit and
the fall of humanity away from grace in the Biblical tradition. Her engagement
is broken, and James Robert McCrimmon becomes a star of the silent screen in a
small handful of films leading up to the big one. More importantly, he gets
closer and closer to the director, while the Doctor allows them to stay, not
forcing the decision of Céline or the Tardis on his young friend because he
knows Jamie was taken with Victoria, and has been missing her badly.
There’s no untoward alien
influence in Deleted Scenes – unless you count the Doctor himself, and
it becomes increasingly tempting to do so, because ultimately the story is
about choices, and especially about the choice between doing the easy thing and
the right thing. Perhaps, in some cases, between doing the compassionate
thing and the right thing. And the Doctor, for all he’s in his second
incarnation, seems still to be working out where the borderlines of those
choices are, both for humans and for himself in regard to his human
friends. For analogies in New Who, think of the Ninth Doctor taking Rose back
to see the day her dad died in Father’s Day, or the Twelfth ‘going to
Hell’ in response to Clara’s demand that he find Danny Pink after he’s died.
The Doctor wants to be kind, wants to give a special gift to his friends,
even if such a gift is neither wise nor ultimately safe.
So with the Second Doctor,
he wants to give Jamie some time with Céline, to heal the young man’s heart
after Victoria’s leaving. But the longer they stay, not only does it become
harder to eventually have to make the choice between the director and the
Doctor, but also, the more embedded the Doctor becomes in other human dilemmas.
When Céline’s film is finally ready to be made, her life savings poured into
the Serpent, only for disaster to strike, the Doctor is faced with another big
question: what’s the point in having a time machine if you don’t use it to help
the people about whom you claim to care? What’s the point of caring if you
won’t act to help them? The dilemma comes through Jamie, it’s Jamie’s Father’s
Day moment, when the principle that he’s stood by the Doctor’s side through
thick and thin, defeated tyrants, monsters and beasties with very few questions
asked is evoked – is that just what I’m good for, or is this a real friendship?
Will you do what I’m asking you to do, you brilliant mad man with your fancy
box, or will you not?
The Doctor’s decision
haunts him, racks him, pushes him into one of his week-long comas to think
things through. To separate the right thing from the easy thing, the emotional
from the purely clinical decision. And while his decision has an impact on
Jamie’s life – who knows, if things had gone differently, Jamie might have stayed
in Paris, made his career in silent films, rather than eventually having
his memories wiped by the Time Lords – the Doctor’s decision is what he feels
at the time it has to be.
The wonder of Angus
Dunican’s script though is that it twists the knife in us sweetly, so we bleed
for the decisions made, the reality imposed on the web of time, and yet
ultimately, he rescues us, and in some ways the Doctor himself, when everything’s
too late to make a difference to the world and the web, but when it still might
make a difference to a couple of individuals. Even then, the Doctor has more or
less forgotten about the choice he made until he’s prompted to put things as
right as the web of time will stand by another, later companion. Guarantee
that’ll get you sniffing too, because it’s so very like that later
companion to do the thing they do. To help the lonely, wonderful, melodramatic
alien be a touch more human when they can. It’s a thing of perfection.
As, come to that, is
Dunican’s writing – you can tell when someone’s really thought about how they
evoke an emotion in their audience, and Dunican gives good simile here – when
things are ‘like’ other things in this story, the things they’re like will
stick with you for their quality of phrasing. Yes, you’ll think – that’s
exactly what that feels like. Looks like. Is like. Dunican gives you way more
than your money’s worth here in terms of similes that stick, dilemmas that
crush, decisions that’ll make you sniff, and a resolution that, if it doesn’t
have you bawling probably means you’re a Cyberman. He delivers a Jamie story
that deepens our understanding of the character, a crucial turning point
between Jamie and the Second Doctor, and a sublime example of the Doctor’s
friends looking out for his soul, making him that bit more human and heroic
than the long view of the Time Lord might otherwise allow.
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