3.8-9: Human Nature / The Family of Blood
Synopsis: Hiding from a family of short-lived aliens who seek a Time Lord's eternal form and can detect his consciousness, Martha finds herself a maid in the service of John Smith, a teacher at a boys' school in 1913 Britain. Mr. Smith is, of course, the Doctor who has changed his biology and memories and made himself human. Occasionally, he has dreams of his Time Lord self, and makes writings and drawings chronicling the Doctor's life, but the full Time Lord consciousness is locked away within a fob watch.
But before the aliens can expire, they overtake the bodies of various villagers and discover the truth of Mr. Smith's identity. As they descend upon the school, it becomes increasingly clear that they need the Doctor, but Martha is horrified to find that the watch has been stolen, with the Doctor's consciousness inside. Eventually, the boy who stole the watch comes forward, but in the meantime, Smith has fallen for the school nurse, Joan Redfern. Even as he begins to accept the dreams as reality, his attachment to Joan makes him balk at the idea of becoming the Doctor again.
Ultimately, he chooses to sacrifice himself for the greater good, the Doctor returns, and punishes the body-snatching aliens in a fairly hideous manner.
Golden Comic Moment: Perhaps we shouldn't think such things, but when we watch Human Nature/The Family of Blood, we wonder a couple of things about the John Smith character. 1) He appears to be about 35 (David Tennant's age at the time of filming), and yet he is exceedingly awkward around women, and indeed the idea of being with a woman. And as such, 2) is he a virgin? At least in his own mind and artificial world?
But that's neither here nor there. It's just a curiosity that comes from watching a family show (which will never address that question) through modern eyes (which marvel at the very odd detachedness of a good-looking man approaching middle-age). We bring it up only because, in what is perhaps the only funny moment in the 90-minute story, John Smith displays a truly appalling ineptness when confronted with Joan's rather forward suggestion that they go to a dance together. As with quite a few mini-monologues I've mentioned before this (i.e. The Satan Pit and Smith and Jones), justice can only be done to it when heard spoken by the actor himself, followed by the spectacular tumble down the stairs, but alas, we commit it to words anyhow: "Well, I should imagine that you'd be... er, I mean, I mean I never thought you'd be one for... I mean there's no reason why you shouldn't, if you do, you may not. I probably won't, but even if I did, then I... then I couldn't, erm... I wouldn't want to..."
Golden Fangirl Moment: John Smith's Journal of Impossible Things, the drawings and stories that he keeps as a chronicle of his "dreams," his vestigial memories of himself as the Doctor, is a veritable smorgasbord of fan-friendly images and continuity. It's enough just having the irony and frustration of watching a relatively boring man knocking about with memories of the Doctor, and his Companion looking on. But when he allows Joan to thumb through the journal and we see, for the first time in the 21st century, the faces of all of the other nine Doctors, in sketch form, the die-hard fan leaps out of her chair! Previous incarnations are something that the Doctor hardly ever discusses, and we all know that memory is something that he keeps very close to his chest. At this point, we don't even know if Martha is aware that he has had previous bodies and faces. But now, the Doctor is turned inside out. Everything he is has been extracted and transferred to other receptacles - the watch, the journal, and he is willingly showing his "unmentionables" to others. It's a welcome bit of out-of-character interplay with Joan, a brilliant way of showing the plight of John Smith as a man with tortured dreams, a clever insertion to pay off later, when Joan begins to believe in the Doctor and knows how this horror story will end, and it's a winking nod to the fans, who know better than John Smith, and better than Martha, what lurks beneath the surface!
Cringeworthy Moment: This episode is absolutely crawling with cringeworthy moments. We hope we can say, at least a bit objectively, that Martha is tougher and cleverer and better-educated than probably ninety-five per cent of the people around her. And yet, because it's 1913, and she happens to have darker skin, she is treated horribly by the students ("With hands like those, how can you tell when something is clean?") by Joan ("Women might be doctors, but hardly a skivvy, and certainly not one of your colour!") and even by John Smith, on occasion ("This must be so confusing for you. This is what we call a story.")
But even in the current climate of less-than-smooth Companion-to-Doctor relations, we do not expect this degree of battering-ram insensitvity from Our Hero himself. "We could start again - I'd like that. You and me. We could try, at least," he says to Joan as he invites her aboard as his companion in the TARDIS. We think the implication is clear, when he says "start again... you and me."
Seriously? After three months of loving you, looking after you and taking all manner of abuse, you are really willing to subject Martha Jones to life in the TARDIS as a third-wheel to you and... anyone else? Really? Oh, Doctor. Why, Doctor? Honestly, the mind boggles at the sheer numbness of your skull at this juncture. We don't even have the words.
The only consolations are that Joan doesn't appear to particularly like the Doctor and utterly shoots him down, and that Martha mercifully never finds out what he tried to do.
Oh, Doctor, really.
Golden Moment: The scenes in the Cartwright's house toward the end of the story are gut-wrenching, beautiful and brilliant. One of my favorite quotes ever on Doctor Who is spoken in this setting, a gorgeous commentary on the nature of the Doctor himself: "He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm and the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And he's wonderful." And it's not even the Companion speaking this time, it's a one-off character who is, arguably, even more in-the-know at this point than Martha.
And this scene holds the very brief moment where the story really shines conceptually - almost a bigger payoff than later on, when the Doctor is back. We know that our favourite guy is in there, somewhere, buried beneath the veneer of the frustratingly ordinary John Smith. We've spent almost ninety minutes pining for the Doctor! It's startling to realise that though David Tennant is on-screen three quarters of the time, we have not heard the Doctor's voice, except briefly in flashback, since the whole thing began. By the time we're at this scene, the town is doomed, our heroes are cornered, and we are desperate for the Doctor to come out and play. And until now, he remains utterly dormant.
But when Smith holds in his hand the timepiece that carries the Doctor's consciousness, and Tim asks him how it is that the watch spoke to him, John answers in rapidfire fashion, "Oh, low-level telepathic field, you were born with it. Just an extra synaptic engram causing..." before he becomes horrified at what he's just said, and how the Doctor really sounds. The impact of this, we think, cannot be overstated. Martha's face lights up, and we get goosebumps, because for just a few moments, he's back. It's the Doctor's voice! He comes out for just a peek before John Smith buries him again. It's a truly startling to hear, back-to-back, how different the Doctor is from John Smith, and we do hear the weirdness of that trademark Tenth Doctor-speak that would understandably terrify a schoolteacher from 1913. Our world is coming back together because the Doctor is now in reach... but oddly, it might be the first time that we see things from John Smith's point of view!
We'd also like to add that it's a freaking brilliant bit of acting from our star. Just sayin'.
Why I Beg To Differ: For the Golden Moment, DWM likes the scene in which the Scarecrows descend upon the school and get annihilated by the schoolboys and their guns. Especially after they discover that the men they've shot are straw, the magazine deems it a deep commentary on the nature of war, and how we are indoctrinating our children (at least in 1913) to feel the "glory" of war. Though clearly they are scared out of their wits, appalled at what is happening, and completely relieved to find that they didn't actually kill anyone - only felled some straw.
This is one of the big DWM assertion that I really do take exception to. As much as this story is a period piece, set against the background of the coming Great War, it is even more a piece, paradoxically, that is about the Doctor. So often Doctor Who comments (as we have seen) on the nature of humanity, and the title of the first half of this story would profess to do the same. However, we feel that it's more oriented toward Time Lord Nature. The centrepiece of the story is the contrast between John Smith and the Doctor, and it is made obvious from the first few minutes of the story. So often, we watch Martha struggle with what is happening, wondering What Would The Doctor Do? With the Journal of Impossible Things, with Martha's misery, with Joan's slow realizations, we ask more and more often, Doctor Who? and what does it mean to be a Time Lord?
The Smith/Doctor contrast is never more readily apparent than when the two collide for a brief moment in a dark house in the night. And it reminds us not just of the Doctor's nature, but also of his singularity, how removed he is, in spite of appearances, from the humans he cares so deeply for.
But before the aliens can expire, they overtake the bodies of various villagers and discover the truth of Mr. Smith's identity. As they descend upon the school, it becomes increasingly clear that they need the Doctor, but Martha is horrified to find that the watch has been stolen, with the Doctor's consciousness inside. Eventually, the boy who stole the watch comes forward, but in the meantime, Smith has fallen for the school nurse, Joan Redfern. Even as he begins to accept the dreams as reality, his attachment to Joan makes him balk at the idea of becoming the Doctor again.
Ultimately, he chooses to sacrifice himself for the greater good, the Doctor returns, and punishes the body-snatching aliens in a fairly hideous manner.
Golden Comic Moment: Perhaps we shouldn't think such things, but when we watch Human Nature/The Family of Blood, we wonder a couple of things about the John Smith character. 1) He appears to be about 35 (David Tennant's age at the time of filming), and yet he is exceedingly awkward around women, and indeed the idea of being with a woman. And as such, 2) is he a virgin? At least in his own mind and artificial world?
But that's neither here nor there. It's just a curiosity that comes from watching a family show (which will never address that question) through modern eyes (which marvel at the very odd detachedness of a good-looking man approaching middle-age). We bring it up only because, in what is perhaps the only funny moment in the 90-minute story, John Smith displays a truly appalling ineptness when confronted with Joan's rather forward suggestion that they go to a dance together. As with quite a few mini-monologues I've mentioned before this (i.e. The Satan Pit and Smith and Jones), justice can only be done to it when heard spoken by the actor himself, followed by the spectacular tumble down the stairs, but alas, we commit it to words anyhow: "Well, I should imagine that you'd be... er, I mean, I mean I never thought you'd be one for... I mean there's no reason why you shouldn't, if you do, you may not. I probably won't, but even if I did, then I... then I couldn't, erm... I wouldn't want to..."
Golden Fangirl Moment: John Smith's Journal of Impossible Things, the drawings and stories that he keeps as a chronicle of his "dreams," his vestigial memories of himself as the Doctor, is a veritable smorgasbord of fan-friendly images and continuity. It's enough just having the irony and frustration of watching a relatively boring man knocking about with memories of the Doctor, and his Companion looking on. But when he allows Joan to thumb through the journal and we see, for the first time in the 21st century, the faces of all of the other nine Doctors, in sketch form, the die-hard fan leaps out of her chair! Previous incarnations are something that the Doctor hardly ever discusses, and we all know that memory is something that he keeps very close to his chest. At this point, we don't even know if Martha is aware that he has had previous bodies and faces. But now, the Doctor is turned inside out. Everything he is has been extracted and transferred to other receptacles - the watch, the journal, and he is willingly showing his "unmentionables" to others. It's a welcome bit of out-of-character interplay with Joan, a brilliant way of showing the plight of John Smith as a man with tortured dreams, a clever insertion to pay off later, when Joan begins to believe in the Doctor and knows how this horror story will end, and it's a winking nod to the fans, who know better than John Smith, and better than Martha, what lurks beneath the surface!
Cringeworthy Moment: This episode is absolutely crawling with cringeworthy moments. We hope we can say, at least a bit objectively, that Martha is tougher and cleverer and better-educated than probably ninety-five per cent of the people around her. And yet, because it's 1913, and she happens to have darker skin, she is treated horribly by the students ("With hands like those, how can you tell when something is clean?") by Joan ("Women might be doctors, but hardly a skivvy, and certainly not one of your colour!") and even by John Smith, on occasion ("This must be so confusing for you. This is what we call a story.")
But even in the current climate of less-than-smooth Companion-to-Doctor relations, we do not expect this degree of battering-ram insensitvity from Our Hero himself. "We could start again - I'd like that. You and me. We could try, at least," he says to Joan as he invites her aboard as his companion in the TARDIS. We think the implication is clear, when he says "start again... you and me."
Seriously? After three months of loving you, looking after you and taking all manner of abuse, you are really willing to subject Martha Jones to life in the TARDIS as a third-wheel to you and... anyone else? Really? Oh, Doctor. Why, Doctor? Honestly, the mind boggles at the sheer numbness of your skull at this juncture. We don't even have the words.
The only consolations are that Joan doesn't appear to particularly like the Doctor and utterly shoots him down, and that Martha mercifully never finds out what he tried to do.
Oh, Doctor, really.
Golden Moment: The scenes in the Cartwright's house toward the end of the story are gut-wrenching, beautiful and brilliant. One of my favorite quotes ever on Doctor Who is spoken in this setting, a gorgeous commentary on the nature of the Doctor himself: "He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm and the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And he's wonderful." And it's not even the Companion speaking this time, it's a one-off character who is, arguably, even more in-the-know at this point than Martha.
And this scene holds the very brief moment where the story really shines conceptually - almost a bigger payoff than later on, when the Doctor is back. We know that our favourite guy is in there, somewhere, buried beneath the veneer of the frustratingly ordinary John Smith. We've spent almost ninety minutes pining for the Doctor! It's startling to realise that though David Tennant is on-screen three quarters of the time, we have not heard the Doctor's voice, except briefly in flashback, since the whole thing began. By the time we're at this scene, the town is doomed, our heroes are cornered, and we are desperate for the Doctor to come out and play. And until now, he remains utterly dormant.
But when Smith holds in his hand the timepiece that carries the Doctor's consciousness, and Tim asks him how it is that the watch spoke to him, John answers in rapidfire fashion, "Oh, low-level telepathic field, you were born with it. Just an extra synaptic engram causing..." before he becomes horrified at what he's just said, and how the Doctor really sounds. The impact of this, we think, cannot be overstated. Martha's face lights up, and we get goosebumps, because for just a few moments, he's back. It's the Doctor's voice! He comes out for just a peek before John Smith buries him again. It's a truly startling to hear, back-to-back, how different the Doctor is from John Smith, and we do hear the weirdness of that trademark Tenth Doctor-speak that would understandably terrify a schoolteacher from 1913. Our world is coming back together because the Doctor is now in reach... but oddly, it might be the first time that we see things from John Smith's point of view!
We'd also like to add that it's a freaking brilliant bit of acting from our star. Just sayin'.
Why I Beg To Differ: For the Golden Moment, DWM likes the scene in which the Scarecrows descend upon the school and get annihilated by the schoolboys and their guns. Especially after they discover that the men they've shot are straw, the magazine deems it a deep commentary on the nature of war, and how we are indoctrinating our children (at least in 1913) to feel the "glory" of war. Though clearly they are scared out of their wits, appalled at what is happening, and completely relieved to find that they didn't actually kill anyone - only felled some straw.
This is one of the big DWM assertion that I really do take exception to. As much as this story is a period piece, set against the background of the coming Great War, it is even more a piece, paradoxically, that is about the Doctor. So often Doctor Who comments (as we have seen) on the nature of humanity, and the title of the first half of this story would profess to do the same. However, we feel that it's more oriented toward Time Lord Nature. The centrepiece of the story is the contrast between John Smith and the Doctor, and it is made obvious from the first few minutes of the story. So often, we watch Martha struggle with what is happening, wondering What Would The Doctor Do? With the Journal of Impossible Things, with Martha's misery, with Joan's slow realizations, we ask more and more often, Doctor Who? and what does it mean to be a Time Lord?
The Smith/Doctor contrast is never more readily apparent than when the two collide for a brief moment in a dark house in the night. And it reminds us not just of the Doctor's nature, but also of his singularity, how removed he is, in spite of appearances, from the humans he cares so deeply for.