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beccatoriaSo, it turns out there's only so much Fringe I can vid before I reach critical gross science mass of dear god stop with the eyeballs already, so in order to take a break, I am, instead, going to talk about River Song and the only thing in the entire world I wish was different about her.
Namely, the very end of the Library episodes. And since I love River Song with the fire of a thousand burning suns, yet don't really like the end of her story (technically, if not narratively, but we'll get to that), and since usually that's like...a dealbreaker for me, I thought I should ARCHIVE MY THOUGHTS.
First, some background. No matter what I say here about how I interpret River's fate in order to become okay with it, or how it's not as bad as [insert example], as I said, it is the one thing in the world about her that I wish were different. I wish it was different. I don't really like it. I'm not trying to convince anyone they should be cool with it if they're not. Also, I think everything else ever about River it totally fucking awesome. I may later be proven wrong (it's happened before, and about similar topics), but currently, I do not believe this is in spite of Steven Moffat. His current score of Deliberate Awesome > his current score of Accidental Failure. You know, in my head.
So, let's talk about why I don't like it. Basically I don't like it because it's limiting. It's static. Putting her in such an explicitly maternal, domestic setting is kinda thoughtless and gender stereotypical, sure, and that does bug me some, but oddly it's not the thing that irks me most. I think this is partly cus my brain's initial reaction is to point and laugh and say at least River had the common sense to die first so getting lumped with a bunch of kids can't slowly kill her social life, but um, that's me being amused and making snarky jokes (considering I'm not actually in any way anti-children) and not really germane to the very valid criticism one can level at it. Like I said, it bugs.
But I think beyond that it's that - as I said - it's the stasis and lack of choice that really bothers me. The method of imposing that - the idyllic domestic setting - for whatever reason, strikes me as just a lazy pasteded on happy ever after. It's not the underlying point that makes me go, "Oh, River." Because, like with Miss Evangelista, like with the sympathy for Donna Noble who she had never met but whose story she already knew, she'll take care of Cal. That makes sense, even if it makes for a skeezy happy ever after. For whatever reason, I didn't really feel it suddenly turned her character into someone who secretly wanted kids all along, it was just...where she ended up at. And I assume she's happy to go along with because any minute now, she'll be getting back out of there (but I'm jumping ahead of myself: we should not meet the points of this essay in the wrong order).
I don't believe the monomyth is applicable to everything. But it is, in itself an intriguing story, and Moffat writes fairytales when he's writing for Who. So to use it as a point of comparison - the enemy is not death. A hero moves through death, and learns, and returns from it master of both worlds. The enemy is stasis. The enemy is the Nimue trapping Merlin in a dreamworld. Or the Dream Lord trapping Amy. Or the TARDIS - the magic box that takes you anywhen - inverting to a time-looped prison. The magic box designed to trap the Doctor - so static he couldn't die, because death is his power, because death is not the enemy - is turned from a trap into the instrument of victory, by turning it into something explosive, something metamorphic, something that will literally un-and-remake every part of the universe, leaving nothing static. A moment of absolute revolution.
And here, at her end, we have River, trapped in a box. Unchanging. Static.
I would have preferred her to die, gloriously, I think.
However, in the face of this, I choose to think of her ending not as her ultimate, unchanging fate - not as her metaphorical ascension to creepy, creepy heaven - but rather as the beginning of her journey through the lands of the dead. Death is not the enemy.
The Tenth Doctor was all about saving people for himself, not really for them (again, we'll get to that; we'll get to it). He doesn't think about the girl in the paving slab and he doesn't think about his wife in a computer, he thinks about how he saved them and he leaves. (And the Eleventh Doctor is all about time being rewritten: I wonder if he'll try that?)
One day, though, after the Vashta Narada leave, or before then, if their fear of the Doctor is any indication, and if he loads up on Super Batteries for his torch, one of the many doctors after Ten - all of whom have had years to think about it, who gave her a screwdriver rather than telling her not to go - will know exactly where she is. One day, River's going to get out of that computer, into a brand new robot/cloned/magic body. It'll be just like regeneration, and death will be her power too.
Not that I expect to see this on film, because, really, I think it's probably not something most people think about. I'd love to be surprised, but probably the people involved think it's a happy ending. But I like it better my way.
I do think it's interesting to note the context in which the episode was written, which helps me at least understand why the ending feels a fair bit different to the rest of the episode. Moffat has been very honest about the fact that he never expected to get the chance to tell all of River's story.
In some ways, in the Library episodes, she's not River yet. She's an idea - a gimmick. A fantastic, wonderful one with a strong character and a beautiful throughline and a powerful idea - this once and future enigma. The one the man who knows everything knows nothing about.
The point of the story is that she dies. The point is this last/first meeting and honestly, it's amazing and heartbreaking and fantastic. (And pretty much the first time I've ever argued for fridging, if that's what this is - but again, we'll get to that).
But...it's a story for children. Not that those always need happy endings but it's nice when they get them. So she gets one. A slightly thoughtless one for her character, but at this point, she's still an idea. She's the woman the Doctor can't stand not to save even though he barely knows her. And so she gets the guest-star end. The not-entirely-thought-through end. The end that was perhaps not quite so rigorously put through the Don't Be Sexist filter as it should have been.
I'm disappointed by it, but I can't find it in me to take it as a sign that Moffat is a failure of a writer, simply based on his accumulated successes. He just...dropped the ball here. Privileged the protagonist's emotional needs over that of the guest star in a way that was only way awkward once she became this FORCE OF FREAKING NATURE in later episodes, and other than that was a little disappointingly gender essentialist.
(I keep seeing Sam Anders watching Starbuck leave in the heavy raider: Is that who River Song is to this fandom? I find that inappropriately entertaining).
So I suppose that begs the question; if, judged in isolation, I think the Library episodes are fantastic with a slightly disappointing final few scenes, what do I think of them in the context of her whole story? If, as I've said, I find it more disappointing the more I know about her, to the point I start using LITERARY MYTHIC WRITINGS as justifications for why she'll escape it one day, why am I still so awesomely in love with her and not simultaneously raging at Moffat as I was known to do at both RTD and RDM (what is it with three-letter showrunners that start with R and me?)
It's a good question. Mostly I think it's quick to answer:
1) He's making up for it. Now that she's a real, recurring, important character, she has been nothing short of marvelous, and while narratively we already know the end, in realworld chronology, he's been improving her with every appearance.
2) The pall that a bad ending might otherwise cast over her character it mitigated by the fact she's not actually dead. Which means there is space for interpretation and continuation.
3) I have an odd ability to kind of not think about it and just act like she kind of did die in truly awesome, glorious fashion, the very first time the Doctor ever met her, while simultaneously knowing that she's sort of still alive and will one day continue her conquest of the universe through sheer awesome. I do not know how I manage to hold onto these conflicting beliefs, yet somehow I do. I BLAME THE MAGIC OF RIVER.
The last thing I want to talk about requires looping back a bit (again, with the essay points in the wrong order). And that's another issue of clarification, really. Which is that, superficially, there are a lot of similarities between Donna's end and River's. Especially since above, I flat out said, and, in fact, even partially excused River's end based on focusing more on the main character's emotions when that pretty much represents everything awful about Donna's ending.
So, let's see - they're both basically saved against their wills and forced into a static existence rather than dying under their own control, arguably to indulge the Doctor's need to save everyone no matter the cost and to provide him with MOAR EMO.
Here are some reasons I think they are different, and why one of them made me actually quit the show (okay for the second time and clearly it didn't stick, but, I DIDN'T WATCH ANY OTHER RTD EPISODES EXCEPT BY ACCIDENT CUS I WAS IN A PUB), but the other kind of makes me sadly shrug my shoulders and pull out my meta-bat and hit it until I'm okay with it again.
1) River loses her body but keeps her mind, her intelligence, her brilliance and her memories. Donna, on the other hand, is reduced to her body, her thoughts stolen from her, her desires erased, not just ignored.
2) Donna wanted to die specifically rather than being saved in the way the Doctor saved her. River simply didn't know it was an option. While I'm not sure how she'll feel about it long-term, at least the Doctor wasn't ignoring her express wishes.
3) Donna had her status and power and agency reduced in order to provide the Doctor with manpain. "Saving" her was a reductive act. Since River would otherwise be dead, saving her actually preserved more of her agency and independence than otherwise. I'm not saying life at any cost, but I am saying that at least it was about saving her, not metaphorically killing her as it was with Donna.
4) Yes, in both cases the Doctor's desires were prioritised over Donna's/River's. However, I think it's worse to see this happen to the other series regular rather than the guest star the writer has no reason to believe is coming back. I'm not saying it's laudable but it's less awful. Especially since River's ending wasn't as horrifying as the paving slab and was, on a fundamental level, at least about her being too awesome and important to the Doctor to let die, rather than being another human sloppily saved and forgotten.
5) Unusually, I don't actually have a problem with "fridging" River in this capacity because unlike Donna, her unusual chronological relationship with the Doctor means we get all the benefits of Tragic Death Sealing Her Importance Forever without actually having to lose River in any way. In fact, it's kind of made her narratively immortal in the ongoing series.
THUS END MY EPIC THOUGHTS OF THINKING. :)
Namely, the very end of the Library episodes. And since I love River Song with the fire of a thousand burning suns, yet don't really like the end of her story (technically, if not narratively, but we'll get to that), and since usually that's like...a dealbreaker for me, I thought I should ARCHIVE MY THOUGHTS.
First, some background. No matter what I say here about how I interpret River's fate in order to become okay with it, or how it's not as bad as [insert example], as I said, it is the one thing in the world about her that I wish were different. I wish it was different. I don't really like it. I'm not trying to convince anyone they should be cool with it if they're not. Also, I think everything else ever about River it totally fucking awesome. I may later be proven wrong (it's happened before, and about similar topics), but currently, I do not believe this is in spite of Steven Moffat. His current score of Deliberate Awesome > his current score of Accidental Failure. You know, in my head.
So, let's talk about why I don't like it. Basically I don't like it because it's limiting. It's static. Putting her in such an explicitly maternal, domestic setting is kinda thoughtless and gender stereotypical, sure, and that does bug me some, but oddly it's not the thing that irks me most. I think this is partly cus my brain's initial reaction is to point and laugh and say at least River had the common sense to die first so getting lumped with a bunch of kids can't slowly kill her social life, but um, that's me being amused and making snarky jokes (considering I'm not actually in any way anti-children) and not really germane to the very valid criticism one can level at it. Like I said, it bugs.
But I think beyond that it's that - as I said - it's the stasis and lack of choice that really bothers me. The method of imposing that - the idyllic domestic setting - for whatever reason, strikes me as just a lazy pasteded on happy ever after. It's not the underlying point that makes me go, "Oh, River." Because, like with Miss Evangelista, like with the sympathy for Donna Noble who she had never met but whose story she already knew, she'll take care of Cal. That makes sense, even if it makes for a skeezy happy ever after. For whatever reason, I didn't really feel it suddenly turned her character into someone who secretly wanted kids all along, it was just...where she ended up at. And I assume she's happy to go along with because any minute now, she'll be getting back out of there (but I'm jumping ahead of myself: we should not meet the points of this essay in the wrong order).
I don't believe the monomyth is applicable to everything. But it is, in itself an intriguing story, and Moffat writes fairytales when he's writing for Who. So to use it as a point of comparison - the enemy is not death. A hero moves through death, and learns, and returns from it master of both worlds. The enemy is stasis. The enemy is the Nimue trapping Merlin in a dreamworld. Or the Dream Lord trapping Amy. Or the TARDIS - the magic box that takes you anywhen - inverting to a time-looped prison. The magic box designed to trap the Doctor - so static he couldn't die, because death is his power, because death is not the enemy - is turned from a trap into the instrument of victory, by turning it into something explosive, something metamorphic, something that will literally un-and-remake every part of the universe, leaving nothing static. A moment of absolute revolution.
And here, at her end, we have River, trapped in a box. Unchanging. Static.
I would have preferred her to die, gloriously, I think.
However, in the face of this, I choose to think of her ending not as her ultimate, unchanging fate - not as her metaphorical ascension to creepy, creepy heaven - but rather as the beginning of her journey through the lands of the dead. Death is not the enemy.
The Tenth Doctor was all about saving people for himself, not really for them (again, we'll get to that; we'll get to it). He doesn't think about the girl in the paving slab and he doesn't think about his wife in a computer, he thinks about how he saved them and he leaves. (And the Eleventh Doctor is all about time being rewritten: I wonder if he'll try that?)
One day, though, after the Vashta Narada leave, or before then, if their fear of the Doctor is any indication, and if he loads up on Super Batteries for his torch, one of the many doctors after Ten - all of whom have had years to think about it, who gave her a screwdriver rather than telling her not to go - will know exactly where she is. One day, River's going to get out of that computer, into a brand new robot/cloned/magic body. It'll be just like regeneration, and death will be her power too.
Not that I expect to see this on film, because, really, I think it's probably not something most people think about. I'd love to be surprised, but probably the people involved think it's a happy ending. But I like it better my way.
I do think it's interesting to note the context in which the episode was written, which helps me at least understand why the ending feels a fair bit different to the rest of the episode. Moffat has been very honest about the fact that he never expected to get the chance to tell all of River's story.
In some ways, in the Library episodes, she's not River yet. She's an idea - a gimmick. A fantastic, wonderful one with a strong character and a beautiful throughline and a powerful idea - this once and future enigma. The one the man who knows everything knows nothing about.
The point of the story is that she dies. The point is this last/first meeting and honestly, it's amazing and heartbreaking and fantastic. (And pretty much the first time I've ever argued for fridging, if that's what this is - but again, we'll get to that).
But...it's a story for children. Not that those always need happy endings but it's nice when they get them. So she gets one. A slightly thoughtless one for her character, but at this point, she's still an idea. She's the woman the Doctor can't stand not to save even though he barely knows her. And so she gets the guest-star end. The not-entirely-thought-through end. The end that was perhaps not quite so rigorously put through the Don't Be Sexist filter as it should have been.
I'm disappointed by it, but I can't find it in me to take it as a sign that Moffat is a failure of a writer, simply based on his accumulated successes. He just...dropped the ball here. Privileged the protagonist's emotional needs over that of the guest star in a way that was only way awkward once she became this FORCE OF FREAKING NATURE in later episodes, and other than that was a little disappointingly gender essentialist.
(I keep seeing Sam Anders watching Starbuck leave in the heavy raider: Is that who River Song is to this fandom? I find that inappropriately entertaining).
So I suppose that begs the question; if, judged in isolation, I think the Library episodes are fantastic with a slightly disappointing final few scenes, what do I think of them in the context of her whole story? If, as I've said, I find it more disappointing the more I know about her, to the point I start using LITERARY MYTHIC WRITINGS as justifications for why she'll escape it one day, why am I still so awesomely in love with her and not simultaneously raging at Moffat as I was known to do at both RTD and RDM (what is it with three-letter showrunners that start with R and me?)
It's a good question. Mostly I think it's quick to answer:
1) He's making up for it. Now that she's a real, recurring, important character, she has been nothing short of marvelous, and while narratively we already know the end, in realworld chronology, he's been improving her with every appearance.
2) The pall that a bad ending might otherwise cast over her character it mitigated by the fact she's not actually dead. Which means there is space for interpretation and continuation.
3) I have an odd ability to kind of not think about it and just act like she kind of did die in truly awesome, glorious fashion, the very first time the Doctor ever met her, while simultaneously knowing that she's sort of still alive and will one day continue her conquest of the universe through sheer awesome. I do not know how I manage to hold onto these conflicting beliefs, yet somehow I do. I BLAME THE MAGIC OF RIVER.
The last thing I want to talk about requires looping back a bit (again, with the essay points in the wrong order). And that's another issue of clarification, really. Which is that, superficially, there are a lot of similarities between Donna's end and River's. Especially since above, I flat out said, and, in fact, even partially excused River's end based on focusing more on the main character's emotions when that pretty much represents everything awful about Donna's ending.
So, let's see - they're both basically saved against their wills and forced into a static existence rather than dying under their own control, arguably to indulge the Doctor's need to save everyone no matter the cost and to provide him with MOAR EMO.
Here are some reasons I think they are different, and why one of them made me actually quit the show (okay for the second time and clearly it didn't stick, but, I DIDN'T WATCH ANY OTHER RTD EPISODES EXCEPT BY ACCIDENT CUS I WAS IN A PUB), but the other kind of makes me sadly shrug my shoulders and pull out my meta-bat and hit it until I'm okay with it again.
1) River loses her body but keeps her mind, her intelligence, her brilliance and her memories. Donna, on the other hand, is reduced to her body, her thoughts stolen from her, her desires erased, not just ignored.
2) Donna wanted to die specifically rather than being saved in the way the Doctor saved her. River simply didn't know it was an option. While I'm not sure how she'll feel about it long-term, at least the Doctor wasn't ignoring her express wishes.
3) Donna had her status and power and agency reduced in order to provide the Doctor with manpain. "Saving" her was a reductive act. Since River would otherwise be dead, saving her actually preserved more of her agency and independence than otherwise. I'm not saying life at any cost, but I am saying that at least it was about saving her, not metaphorically killing her as it was with Donna.
4) Yes, in both cases the Doctor's desires were prioritised over Donna's/River's. However, I think it's worse to see this happen to the other series regular rather than the guest star the writer has no reason to believe is coming back. I'm not saying it's laudable but it's less awful. Especially since River's ending wasn't as horrifying as the paving slab and was, on a fundamental level, at least about her being too awesome and important to the Doctor to let die, rather than being another human sloppily saved and forgotten.
5) Unusually, I don't actually have a problem with "fridging" River in this capacity because unlike Donna, her unusual chronological relationship with the Doctor means we get all the benefits of Tragic Death Sealing Her Importance Forever without actually having to lose River in any way. In fact, it's kind of made her narratively immortal in the ongoing series.
THUS END MY EPIC THOUGHTS OF THINKING. :)
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no subject
Date: 2010-07-16 08:55 pm (UTC)I definitely agree with you that her end becomes both easier and harder to accept as the story goes on. I suppose Moffat may surprise us all and pull her out of there, or give us a definitive answer, but I kind of doubt it.
The only place in your comment we really disagree is that I was kind of okay with the way she dies for him when he doesn't even know of love her yet. This is one of the things I find increasingly easier to handle as the story goes on. Basically just because the continuing story means one day, I'm sure, he will be in a similar position. And because I am kind of in love with the first/last meeting. If she died with him not understanding, and we knew he would never understand, I would feel more the way you do, I think. But as it is...one day he will. He understands a little more every time they meet. And I love the emotion it brings out in River - saving this man that, in some ways, she doesn't love yet either (he's not finished, he's not her doctor), but will. But you know, personal takes on stuff.
As to Eleven running away, it is rude, but to me, at least, kind of endearing, mainly because I think he's terrified not of her timey-wimeyness, not really of his future, whatever he tells Amy, but of the enormity of her importance knowing what it'll cost her. He tries to run because he's frightened, yes, but - and again, personal interpretation - I found his fear so much less about him, or at least as selfishly so, as Ten running from Jack, and so much more about the enormity of it. About trying to postpone the inevitable because all he knows, so far, is she dies for him and he fails to (really) save her.
But I do accept your points as a valid criticism. Just one I am happily managing to ignore by sticking my fingers in my ears and singing loudly... :p (Whut, it worked REALLY WELL with BSG right up until 4.5!)
no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 06:19 am (UTC)The thing with me and the first/last meeting is that I love it as a story, but I hate it for the characters. You know what I mean? Like, I think if Moff actually pulls off a bit where she kills him - no matter that I think it unlikely - it will be an absolutely brilliant piece of circularity. But I can't divorce my appreciation for the storytelling from my desire to smoosh River and Eleven together and be all MAKE OUT AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER GUYS.
Too, I was trying to work it out in fic and failing, but it really bugs me that her last meeting with him isn't when he's him at all. Possibly some of it is tied into the fact that she is in so many ways his equal in knowledge and power, and yet he's always holding this ultimate knowledge over her in a way that almost negates everything else? I don't know. *handwavey* I think when/if/when we get to see them being more intimate and properly trusting, I'll probably feel better about it. *g*
And, okay, I like that explanation for Eleven running away. It does make more sense in the context of the episode, too, now that I think about it. I think I was so annoyed at him that I didn't see this possibility. Hmm.
I'm really enjoying the amount of River meta-squee on your journal. Mind if I friend?
no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 04:26 pm (UTC)Also, regarding the tragic need to both have the circularity of mutual death and the ability to SMUSH THEM TOGETHER AND MAKE KISSING SOUNDS, I think I handle it by figuring, narratively, there is an infinite amount of time between these events? Like, the Doctor's first encounter with River is the one where she dies, similarly at some point, River may have an encounter with the Doctor where she kills him, but thanks to the weirdness of time, they will both continue to see each other after that - for the rest of their lives (if they mutually die for/kill each other). There are an infinite number of stories to tell in that space, even if there's also tragedy in that they both know how the other ends.
OR, there is the happier way of assuming that after he gets her OUT of the Library, they will live happily ever after. ;)
I get what you're saying about the Doctor knowing this ultimate secret about her. Fortunately for me, I don't feel that negates everything else, since River also has her own secrets, about the Doctor's name, which is clearly amazingly important, about who she is, etc., and quite possibly about his death too. But more than that, because I don't think the knowledge is something...that has power over her? She chose so clearly to make that choice, and we've seen her try to do it on more than one occasion since. If she really had died, it's one of the few "fridgings" I would have been on board with just because she was so certain, and so sure of it. In some ways that's another reason I'm annoyed she got saved because she CHOSE and her death was almost a giant validation of her agency and power. I think mostly what that ultimate knowledge does for the Doctor - and again, this is personal interpretation tied very closely to my reading of Eleven's reasons for running away - is tie him to her. It ends up holding power over him. If River knew it - how she was going to die - she'd shrug and move on. But for the Doctor it's a promise of things to come over which he has no control; it's proof of what she'll one day be to him, all she'll mean, all he'll lose, all she'll lose. It's the moment he failed to change the future and lost control of it - to her.
It's the moment he lost his heart, even if he didn't love her yet.
AND STUFF! ;)
Anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying the meta-squee! Friending is always fine and welcome - please friend, defriend, comment-erratically-without-friending - it's all good. The only thing is, I don't always friend back right away, I really hope that's okay. I don't really use my flist as a general reading list like many do, and instead tend to actually surf over to journals, and try to keep my flist pared down. But you're very welcome to friend or not friend with that info, and I'd love to get to know you. :)