Jamie Mathieson and Maisie Williams – these names alone sparked excitement among Doctor Who fans, hinting at a potentially captivating two-parter in the style of Steven Moffat. Indeed, “The Girl Who Died” and “The Woman Who Lived” delivered a compelling narrative, with the first episode arguably edging out the second in terms of immediate impact, mirroring the structure of previous two-part stories. However, this duo of episodes offered a wealth of intriguing themes to explore, primarily through the introduction of Ashildr, a character that quickly became a focal point for discussion and analysis within the Doctor Who universe.
From Viking Maiden to Immortal Woman: The Transformation of Ashildr
Initially presented as Ashildr, a seemingly ordinary Viking girl, Maisie Williams imbued the character with a spirited and headstrong personality. She was depicted as plucky, outspoken, perhaps even foolish and stubborn – traits that resonated with the archetype of a young, adventurous spirit. Interestingly, the episode also reintroduced Moffat’s recurring theme of the power of stories. Ashildr’s imaginative storytelling became instrumental in her village’s defense against alien invaders, showcasing her unique resourcefulness. As Ashildr herself eloquently states, highlighting her sense of belonging and intrinsic difference:
Ashildr: I’ve always been different. All my life I’ve known that. The girls all thought I was a boy. The boys all said I was just a girl. My head is always full of stories. I know I’m strange. Everyone knows I’m strange. But here I’m loved. You tell me to run, to save my life. I tell you that leaving this place would be death itself.
However, Ashildr’s journey transcended the typical “Amelia Pond prototype” – the quirky, memorable companion introduction. The girl who initially faced death was resurrected by the Doctor, becoming the enigmatic “woman who lived.” This transformation brought about a profound change, hinting at a detachment from emotions, a state somewhat analogous to the Doctor himself when devoid of human companionship to ground him. Maisie Williams delivered a noteworthy performance, portraying a character grappling with millennia of existence, marked by the accumulation of pain, loss, and sorrow. While the narrative arc spanned only seven days between episodes for the audience, the script conveyed the immense weight of time on Ashildr. Some might argue that the rapid progression felt somewhat rushed, relying on exposition to convey Ashildr’s immortal life rather than visually unfolding it across a more extended period. Despite this pacing constraint inherent in Doctor Who’s episodic format, the ambition of the two-parter shone through, suggesting that Ashildr’s gradual detachment from humanity could indeed have been a compelling subject for a spin-off series in its own right.
Ashildr: A Mirror Reflecting the Doctor’s Own Burden of Immortality
While Clara Oswald often embodied and “performed” aspects of the Doctor’s persona, Ashildr served as a more profound reflection – a mirror image of the Time Lord himself. Both characters are burdened with immense lifespans, destined to outlive countless individuals they encounter, leaving behind a trail of relationships inevitably severed by time. Ashildr, having experienced centuries, perceives the Doctor’s tendency to evade responsibility, recognizing his pattern of departure and the lingering consequences he leaves in his wake. She pointedly questions him on the multitude of lives he has impacted and lost, echoing the recurring motif of the Doctor’s unresolved grief, particularly the echoes of “How many Claras?”
Ashildr understands the Doctor’s aversion to endings, his tendency to leave people’s stories incomplete, like “open pages in books.” This observation poignantly evokes the unresolved narrative of River Song, prompting the wistful thought: “I wish River could have met Ashildr. Maybe she has?” Conversely, the Doctor recognizes the inherent danger in a prolonged association with Ashildr, despite their shared experiences and burdens.
The Doctor: People like us, we go on too long, we forget what matters… the last thing we need is each other.
It is the essence of humanity, embodied by figures like the jovial Sam Swift, who faced mortality with humor and resilience, that serves as a crucial reminder for beings like Ashildr and the Doctor to reconnect with their capacity for empathy and care.
The Doctor: People like us, we go on too long. We forget what matters. The last thing we need is each other. We need the mayflies. You see the mayflies, they know more than we do. They know how beautiful and precious life is because it’s fleeting.
Both the Doctor and Ashildr grapple with the risk of emotional detachment due to their extended lifespans, and it is the fleeting nature of human existence, with its inherent “messiness,” that serves as a vital anchor to feeling. Ultimately, Ashildr, despite her initial claims of apathy, is moved to act when Earth is threatened, demonstrating that her capacity for compassion is not entirely extinguished. However, this does not signify a sudden alliance with the Doctor. The episode concludes with a fascinatingly ambiguous impasse:
Me: Someone has to look out for the people you abandon. Who better than me? I’ll be the patron saint of the Doctor’s leftovers. While you’re busy protecting this world, I’ll get busy protecting it from you.
The Doctor: So are we enemies now?
Me: Of course not. Enemies are never a problem. It’s your friends you have to watch out for. And, my friend, I’ll be watching out for you.
This final exchange leaves Ashildr’s future trajectory intriguingly open-ended. The lingering questions remain: who instilled in her the perception of the Doctor as someone who arrives for battles but flees the aftermath? Could this be the influence of Missy, or another, as-yet-unseen entity? Will Ashildr encounter Captain Jack Harkness, another figure intimately familiar with immortality within the Doctor Who universe? And will she reappear in the Doctor’s life as an ally or adversary, or perhaps something in between?
The Doctor’s Character Nuances in the Two-Parter
Beyond Ashildr’s compelling narrative, “The Girl Who Died” and “The Woman Who Lived” also enriched the portrayal of the Twelfth Doctor. One subtle yet impactful detail was his selective dismissal of violence. While the Doctor generally opposes violence on principle, the Twelfth Doctor takes it a step further by simply ignoring it when used as a coercive tactic against him. In “The Woman Who Lived,” his preoccupation with his own theories renders him almost oblivious to threats of violence, highlighting his intellectual detachment in certain situations.
On a more thematic level, the episodes reinforced the Doctor’s established principle of non-interference, particularly in the absence of children in distress. Echoing his earlier stance, the Twelfth Doctor initially refuses to intervene in the Viking village’s plight, citing the potential for unintended and far-reaching consequences.
The Doctor: I applaud your courage but I deplore your stupidity. And I will mourn your deaths. Which will be terrifying, painful and… without honor.
Ashildr: Stay. You could help us, I know you could.
The Doctor: I told you to run. That’s all the help you’ll need. That’s all the help you’re getting.
The Doctor: Suppose I saved it—by some miracle. No TARDIS, no sonic. Just one village defeats the Mire. What then? Word gets around. Earth becomes a target of strategic value and the Mire come back. And god knows what else. Ripples into tidal waves until everybody dies.
However, in a charming callback to the episode “Closing Time” and his interaction with Stormageddon, the Doctor’s empathy is ultimately triggered by a baby’s fear. His ability to understand baby talk reveals the infant’s terror, overriding his initial reluctance and compelling him to stay and assist the Viking village.
Clara: What’s it saying?
The Doctor: She. She’s afraid. Babies sense danger, they have to.
Clara: Tell me.
The Doctor: “Mother, I hear thunder. Mother, I hear shouting. You’re my world but I hear other worlds now. Beyond the unfolding of your smile, is there other kindness? I’m afraid. Will they be kind? The sky is crying now, the fire in the water.” Fire in the water…
Clara: You just decided to stay. The baby stopped crying.
This sequence underscores the Doctor’s inherent compassion, often masked by his intellectual exterior and his attempts to maintain a detached perspective. His initial refusal to intervene stems from a recognition of the potential for unintended consequences, a theme that resonates throughout Moffat’s era of Doctor Who. Ironically, the Doctor’s act of “saving” Ashildr by granting her immortality, intended as a singular act of compassion, becomes the catalyst for a series of “tidal waves” – unforeseen repercussions that he ultimately avoids confronting directly, choosing to move on rather than grapple with the long-term ramifications of his actions.
The Weight of Immortality: Exploring Profound Themes
The granting of immortality to Ashildr is more than just a plot device; it serves as a profound exploration of the very nature of existence, particularly when bestowed by the Doctor. The episodes raise crucial questions about the value and burden of endless life, echoing timeless philosophical inquiries. Ashildr’s diaries, filled with the weight of centuries, offer a poignant parallel to River Song’s diaries in “Silence in the Library,” yet they are imbued with a distinct sadness, reflecting the accumulated losses and grief Ashildr has endured. The heartbreaking account of the plague that claimed her children and her subsequent vow to never experience such loss again (“I cannot suffer the heartache”) is particularly impactful.
The core consequence of the Doctor’s intervention is immortality, but the origin lies directly with his actions. Without his interference, Ashildr would have lived a finite life and met a natural end, spared the enduring pain of perpetual existence. The Doctor’s recurring flaw, often highlighted in the series, is his lack of foresight, his tendency to act impulsively without fully considering the long-term implications.
Me: Do you ever think or care what happens after you’ve flown away? I live in the world you leave behind. Because you abandoned me to it.
The Doctor: Why should I be responsible for you?
Me: You made me immortal.
The Doctor: I saved your life. I didn’t know that your heart would rust because I kept it beating. I didn’t think that your conscience would need renewing, that the well of human kindness would run dry. I just wanted to save a terrified young woman’s life.
Me: You didn’t save my life, Doctor. You trapped me inside it.
Through characters like Amy and Rory, we witness the challenges of reintegrating into ordinary life after the extraordinary experiences of traveling with the Doctor. River Song’s narrative reveals the Doctor’s struggle with endings, even in profound relationships. Ashildr’s story further illuminates the Doctor’s tendency to overlook the lasting impact he has on the lives he touches and leaves behind. His focus remains perpetually on the future, on the “next horizon,” driven by a desire to escape the pain of the past.
The Doctor: Oh, I like a nice view as much as anyone.
Ashildr: But?
The Doctor: Can’t wait for the next one.
Ashildr: I pity you.
The Doctor: I will mourn for you. I know which one I prefer.
By the conclusion of this rich and thematically dense two-parter, the audience, much like the Doctor and Ashildr, is left to contemplate the profound choices and consequences inherent in lives lived on vastly different scales of time.
The Girl Who Died/The Woman Who Lived: 8/10 inky stars
