River Song—Hello Enough, Sweetie
Steven
Moffat would most likely tell you River Song’s purpose in life, other than
interjecting “spoilers,” and “hello, sweetie,” into conversation with as much
frequency as is physically possible, is killing the Doctor, due to her, of
course very unfair and completely uncontrollable, brainwashing at the hands of
the Silence. I disagree. River Song’s purpose in life, from her
point of view, is very simple—marry the
Doctor. In the form of Mels,
she openly idolizes the Doctor (“why did the Titanic sink?” “Because the Doctor didn’t save it.”)
and insists, from a very young age, that she’s going to marry him. Moffat plays this off as two separate
sides of River at battle with each other in an attempt to keep her mysterious
and confusing, when, in reality, River is nothing more than a little girl
obsessed with marrying this supposedly great man named the Doctor she’s
never even met. From that point on, the prospect of
their marriage is no longer a question in River Song’s young mind; it is a
fact.
And
it is, isn’t it? From that very
first appearance, when the Doctor still had Ten’s hair face, she
whispers the one thing to him that only his wife would know—his true name. Ten looks almost appalled at her
knowing this information, sharply disappointed in his future self for slipping
this invaluable information to this archeologist,
of all people. Disturbed he may
be, but confused he most certainly is.
Despite the fact that he looks none-too-pleased that this particular woman
knows his name, she did just whisper it to him. However he may feel about it, she knows his deepest
secret. He now knows where this
particular path ends—he will marry River Song, this has just been made an
incontrovertible truth, a fixed point.
With
this, River introduces a new sort of paradox, for lack of a better term, to the
Doctor Whoiverse, one which makes me
despise her and question the objectivity of her actions from this point forward. If you know about a future event—for
instance, a marriage—is it even possible for that event to come to passing in
an organic way? Or does the
telling of the secret make it
happen—make it inescapable? It’s a
sort of handcuffing yourself to the future. By telling the Doctor that he will marry her some day, she
seals his fate, just as reading of Amy’s death signs her death
certificate.
But
this new paradox is just the tip of the River Song iceberg. Her treatment of Ten, as opposed to
Eleven, always strikes me when I re-watch the Silence in the Library two-parter. She recognizes him, of course, due to
her nifty journal, but she can’t quite get a grasp for how to run him. Adamantly and repeatedly, she asks him
to do things and, upon learning that he isn’t capable of the task, she insists
that the future, and apparently better
version of him, can. She’ll scoff
and say something derogatory against him, causing Ten to look a little putout. This feeling of inadequacy stirs a pain
in my heart for his sake. I
understand that his very purpose in life is to make his companions better, but
they should never be so far gone that they force him to feel insufficient. It appears, however, that River Song
finds it impossible to not pull at that thread.
Her second appearance, another
two-parter featuring the return of the Weeping Angels, reveals more of River
Song to us. She’s reunited with
Eleven—the Doctor she’s obviously more familiar with. With this level of comfort, more of her true characteristics
are revealed to us. If it’s
possible, she’s even bossier than she had been with Ten. She tells the Doctor where to go, what
to do and when to do it, to the point that Amy Pond starts to note that River
may just be his wife. Amy Pond
would know, of course, as her means of treating Rory aren’t exactly dissimilar
to River’s treatment of the Doctor.
One
thing that hasn’t changed from one face to the next is her apparent need to
remind him of his shortfalls. As
soon as she’s on the TARDIS, she informs him that he can’t drive her correctly,
resulting in the iconic sound we all love being written off as him leaving the
breaks on. This is obviously
intended to represent what I suppose Moffat sees as typical bickering between a
married couple. He perhaps even
thought he was being revolutionary, making it the wife who is supposedly the
better driver. Yes, how very
condescendingly modernist of you, Sir Moffat. Really, it just plays out as another item in the constantly
growing list of things River Song is better at than everyone—but, in particular,
the Doctor.
This
leads me to the criticism I see most often about River Song. She is often described as a Mary
Sue. A Mary Sue is, in some veins,
similar to the Exceptional Woman.
This type of character lives in the mindset of ‘anything you can do, I
can do better.’ She can drive the
TARDIS better than even the Doctor.
Got some pesky impossibly invincible Silence on your hands? Don’t worry; River Song can take out
swarms of them in mere seconds, despite the fact that for an episode and a half
leading up to this, everyone’s stood around scratching their heads, asking each
other what they should do about the Silence problem. But make sure you don’t tell the Doctor, he’d be ever so
cross if he—supposed ardent advocate for peace—saw her whipping out that
gun.
But
there are holes in her Mary Sue armor.
She was, after all, trained to kill the very man she obsesses over
loves. However, even then, she
fights against the brainwashing to levels no mere human (well, technically
she’s part Time Lord Lady, but that’s a whole other can of worms) would
be able to. She loves him so much,
she’s even willing to disturb the track of history to keep him alive. After all, destroying the flow of time
is totally worth it if you’re in love.
It is also a fantastic foundation upon which to guilt the man you
supposedly love into marrying you.
I
say guilt because, in my opinion, that is precisely how the Doctor feels on the
matter. That final scene in The
Wedding of River Song where he finally, after arguing with her for the bulk of
the episode about not wanting to,
concedes to marry her is almost physically painful for me to watch
(seriously—hives almost become an issue.
Then again, those tend to sprout up at the mere mention of River Song
for me). It’s clear, to me at
least, that he marries her out of necessity—to undo the rupture she’s put in
time. She, on the other hand,
appears almost desperate, relieved and giddy, almost like a high school
cheerleader who got the captain of the football team to go to the prom with
her. All this happiness at the
thought of his submission to marry her.
She’s so happy; one has to wonder
if she knew full and well what she was doing. Did she purposely change the course of events, knowing that
it would rupture time, and knowing that, as a result, he would marry her to
undo her damage? Hadn’t the
whispering of his name so many meetings ago already handcuffed him to his
future enough, as it were?
Apparently not, as she sought to make his marriage to her further
unavoidable.
Moffat created River Song to give
us a female superhero in her forty’s.
On the surface, he succeeds.
She’s sexy, strong (physically, at least. I could argue her unrelenting apparent need to marry the Doctor paints her rather weak emotionally) and
capable. However, he just tries
too hard and, in the process, gives us a character that pushes and demands that
she is better, or that “her Doctor” is better. One critic claimed that it was a breath of fresh air to have
a female on Doctor Who who didn’t
need to be saved by the Doctor at every turn. It is true, River Song might not need to be saved by the
Doctor, but her salvation is dependent on his livelihood—should she kill him,
her very being will be destroyed.
From Bella to Katniss:
Is River a good role model?
Unlike her mother, (another can of worms that I just can’t bring myself
to open) River Song certainly knows what she wants and goes after it, with no
inhibitions. However, she has too
much zeal, going so far as to manipulate facts and events to insure she
successfully grasps everything her heart desires. Some would say this makes her
strong, confident. In some sense,
this is true. But there is a line
between going after what you want and manipulating it to happen. Getting your dream job because you are
qualified and driven is very different from sleeping with the boss to get the
job. While this is almost the
exact opposite problem her daughter (again, just going to breeze past this
issue and hope no one notices it) suffers from, it is equally appalling, if not
more so. Her drive to marry the
Doctor is also disconcerting and the lengths she goes through to guarantee her
success make her just a little too Dark Side to be deemed a good role model in
my eyes. That’s not to say those
who gravitate towards the Dark Side can’t be good role models people. For evidence of this, look for a future
post on Spike from Buffy the Vampire
Slayer.
Role Model Rating: 2/10
Lorelai to Wonder Woman:
Is River relatable? I’m
afraid River is just too much the Exceptional Woman to be completely
relatable. She can do anything
better than you, a fact she makes sure you know from top to bottom. River can even complete tasks that are
apparently impossible, and within a shockingly short amount of time, just based
on the sheer fact that she is awesome.
Moffat strode to give us a hero in River Song and, in the process, gave
us someone we can’t remotely relate to.
Relatability Rating:
3/10
No comments:
Post a Comment