**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post
from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary. If this is your first visit to The
Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that
follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone. In said introductory post, which,
shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we
all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes
with a perfectly clear lens—hence the
name The Scratched Camera.
Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that
follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.** ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~
Donna Noble—The Most Important Woman in the Universe
When
the Doctor first met Donna in The Runaway
Bride, he was puzzled by her sudden and inexplicable materialization onto
the TARDIS. He tells her she isn’t
special, isn’t connected, isn’t clever, isn’t important and, therefore, should be incapable of her sudden
appearance. The Doctor is
simultaneously correct and incorrect in his assumptions. Ten, in his depressive state at the
very recent loss of Rose, is forgetting his most important rule—in 900 years,
he’s never met someone insignificant.
He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just met the most important woman in
the entire universe.
At
the same time, Donna, much like Rose, is unexceptional. She isn’t particularly smart—unlike her
predecessor (or, I suppose, successor, depending on how you look at it),
she has no advanced degrees or specific trainings that could be applicable in
their travels across the universe.
On first appearances, the job she holds appears to be nothing out of the
ordinary (Torchwood would certainly disagree) and her connections all
nothing above average (Turn Left
and The End of Time would revolt at
the very implication). The
Doctor is, of course, incorrect on both of these declarations; he simply
doesn’t know it yet.
Much
like the Doctor, as Donna crashes into the TARDIS directly after Ten leaves
Rose standing on a beach for the first
time, the audience has no idea how important this character will become. Immediately, she seems very brash and
brazen. She goes beyond the point
of cheeky as she angrily assumes the Tenth Doctor has some ulterior motive to
ruin her wedding. Ten, dazed and
discombobulated, doesn’t quite know how to respond, except to insist he
isn’t from Mars. Her sudden
appearance has forced the Doctor to be jolted from his grievances over Rose far
earlier and quicker than he had anticipated.
In
a sense, this is a marvelous thing.
There’s no need for us to speculate how his distraught mindset would’ve
influenced the plot of The Runaway Bride
if Donna hadn’t arrived when she had—Turn
Left provides a solid answer for that very question. Without Donna there to stop him, he
would’ve not only destroyed himself, but a good chunk of the city in the
process.
But,
at the time, the audience, not to mention the Doctor, sees only a stern and
tempestuous woman who seems desperate to return to her wedding. Upon my first viewing of The Runaway Bride, I won’t deny that I
was not necessarily a fan of Donna.
New Who was my first Who viewing experience—Nine and Rose
were my first Doctor and Companion.
Therefore, Rose held a special place in my heart, particularly after the
dynamic created between her and Ten in series two.
At
the end of Doomsday, I had the exact
same reaction as the Doctor to Donna.
I couldn’t believe we were already introducing another possible
Companion; I almost felt affronted on Rose’s part.
However,
as the events of The Runaway Bride
played themselves out, I found I quite enjoyed Donna. She had a temper, certainly, one that could possibly be
reeled in, but I appreciated that Donna didn’t hold any inhibitions toward
being completely and utterly herself—she held nothing back and sought to spare
no feelings. There is, of course,
the start of an emotional component to Donna here as well, a side of her that
won’t truly be put in focus until her return in series four. We get a taste of her insecurities and
sadness as her supposed fiancé Lance declares that he deserves a medal for
putting up with her—due to her excessive rantings that apparently resembled a
gossip column—always questioning whether Posh is pregnant and the like—and her apparently
outrageous and immoral excitement over Pringles and diets. What can I say? I really hate that guy.
I
was, however, wary of Donna’s
apparent desperation to take that long walk down the aisle, clearly evident as she
practically begs Lance to marry her.
This desperation is something I’m firmly against all most female
characters displaying, as it portrays women as only capable of wishing to trap
themselves a husband without assigning the woman any further depth or
ambition. In essence, it’s a major
step backward against the progress we’ve made towards equality—I call it the
Bella Complex.
However,
even with the loss of her fiancé, she recovers, saving herself from Bella-dom
in the process. Certainly she
feels the sadness of the loss—it would feel falsified if she didn’t—but she
isn’t laying herself down on any forest floors so despondent that her
motivation to live depletes. While
this is just the tip of the Donna insecurity iceberg, it’s a start that ends
the episode on a good note, allowing the audience to like Donna, despite that
overly forceful temper.
It
is these insecurities that are her saving grace. When she returns in series four, her fury is, of course, still
evident, but Russell T. Davies downplays it, making her almost passionate, as
opposed to irritable. Davies, the
show-runner through series 1-4, laughed off original questions as to whether
Catherine Tate would reprise her role as Donna Noble to become a future
companion. He acknowledged that
her pushy temperament would grow quite irritating after a while. Therefore, with her reintroduction to
the audience one year later, he added further emotional components and
insecurities.
Her
temper is still in place, thankfully, as I wouldn’t have appreciated Davies’
ridding her character of that completely.
But the temper doesn’t come unaccompanied—we receive some further
justification for it. Noble’s
mother is horrible to her—something we saw a bit of in The Runaway Bride, but which becomes a prevalent theme now that the
audience witnesses Donna spending an extensive amount of time with her family. In Partners
in Crime, Donna is subjected to periodical ravings from her mother about
her lack of drive to find a proper job.
The woman belittles her, scorns her. In essence, it is made apparent to us that Mrs. Noble
doesn’t truly know her daughter—she doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to
know, what Donna truly wants from life.
Her only interest is getting her daughter a permanent job. While this is, on a surface level, not
a horrible fate to push upon one’s daughter, it is clearly not what interests
Donna in her heart and would, therefore, serve to only make her unhappy.
Donna
talks, but her mother never listens.
And she isn’t the only one.
Her previous fiancé was only using her and cared very little for
anything that came out of Donna’s mouth.
The various bosses we see her having all care very little for her
opinions. In fact, the only two
who seem bothered to pay any attention to Donna’s thoughts are the Doctor and
grandpa Wilf. This frequent
feeling of worthlessness and disregard for what Donna wants and what she says
leads her to only yell louder, push harder, to demand to be heard.
This,
in turn, leads us to the temper we’ve been privy to since her
introduction. It excuses any
chaffing she may cause as she thrashes about, trying beyond all measure just to
be heard, to be understood. It
also saves her from becoming a Triple F—the Fronting Feisty Female. Where Amy Pond thrashes her temper
about in a similar way to Donna Noble, she fails to have any realistic
justification for it. Everyone
listens to her, adores her, hangs on her every word. But when it comes time for her to live up to her brash
declarations, she fails to do so, relying instead on the men she’s abused and
ripped to shreds to save her.
Donna,
on the other hand, does a fair bit of saving of her own in her turn as
permanent companion in series four.
In Fires of Pompeii, she persuades
Ten to save Twelve’s a family to resolve the fact that she can’t manage
to save everyone. Noble assists
Ten again in Planet of the Ood to
free the Ood from captivity, showing an immense amount of compassion towards
the species, despite the fact that they are distinctly alien.
But
it is Turn Left where we see Donna really
start to shine. The episode paints
the audience a picture of what the world would look like, had Donna Noble
listened to her mother’s pestering about a proper job and, as a result, failed
to meet the Doctor. We see here
that she saved him from their first case together, insisting that he stop
before drowning himself and the city in the process.
Turn Left is one of my favorite episodes
of the entire series for many reasons.
It finally explains why Rose has been popping in and out of the Doctor’s
reality for the last year. Rose is
also, of course, back in a starring role in this episode, resulting in my two
favorite Companions to date sharing screen time together. Screen time that is decidedly put to
very good use, as Rose repeatedly reassures Donna that she is important, that the Doctor thought she was so very important—important
enough to invite on the greatest adventure of all time. Yet Donna holds strong to her insecurities,
refusing to believe that anyone could find her important enough to invite on
something as extraordinary as Rose’s implications make it out to be.
Turn Left shows us the importance one
person and one decision can have on the entire universe. Had Donna listened to her
mother—submitted, obeyed her mother—and docilely declared that she would take a
permanent job in a field that held very little interest to her, she never
would’ve had the opportunity to learn so much about herself. The message provided by Turn Left is a clear one—an ordinary,
every day person—say, one temp worker from Chiswick—can change the world, and it can be as simple as one seemingly
insignificant decision.
Donna
finds her way back to the Doctor, with two words as her message “Bad Wolf.” These two little words result in driving the rest of the
series four plot forward, allowing for the two-parter series finale The Stolen Earth/Journey’s End, in which
Donna, amongst a crew of vastly more powerful and skilled companions, receives
the credit for saving the day.
The
DoctorDonna comes into existence—just as the Ood predicted—when Donna touches the hand, allowing her to share in the
Doctor’s intelligence. This intelligence
equips Donna with the ability to derail Davros’s master plan with the mere pressing
of a few buttons.
This
knowledge comes at an extraordinarily high price. Donna’s human brain simply isn’t capable of housing the
Doctor’s nine centuries of information; to keep the knowledge—and,
unfortunately, her memories of him—would be to sign her death certificate.
In her time with the Doctor, she
has worked off a few of her insecurities—growing to see herself as having
enough to say to be worthy of being heard. In the events of Journey’s
End, she saves the world, catapulting herself into the position of the most
important woman in the entire universe.
Species across the galaxies sing the song of Donna Noble but, by some
cruel twist of fate, the very occurrence that gave her the ability to save the
world, makes it impossible to retain the knowledge that she did.
Ten’s
loss of Donna is particularly hard because he knows the travesty she suffers
from at the hands of others, particularly in the case of her mother. Generally the people in Donna’s life
seem to instinctively count her as inferior or insignificant. For one shining moment, Donna realized
just how very wrong they were, only to have it stripped away from her by
force. His very best friend in the
universe will never know how priceless she was.
Donna
Noble, the girl even the Doctor discredited as having no important connections,
special abilities or jobs, gladly proves him wrong on every account. Without Donna Noble, the Doctor
would’ve died before series three even started—all because of her supposedly
irrelevant job at HC Clemons.
Without Donna Noble, the world would’ve ended long before she even had
the chance to save it in Journey’s End. Without Donna Noble’s supposedly
inadequate connections, Wilfred Mott wouldn’t have known to help Ten save the
universe one last time in The End of Time.
In
Turn Left, Wilf tells Donna “you’re
not gonna make the world any better by shouting at it.” Donna stubbornly responds, “I can
try.” To this, I say she doesn’t try. She succeeds.
From Bella to Katniss:
Is Donna a good role model?
Donna is pushy—she may be insecure underneath it all, but she knows what
she wants and she demands to go after it.
She’s the only person beside Jack Harkness and Wilfred Mott to
search for the Doctor and actually manage to find him, a goal she achieves
in far less time than Captain Jack, might I add. She may have a violent temper, but she is unapologetically
herself at every turn, never compromising her beliefs or her personality to
appeal to a man—or any person, for that matter. Even when she’s desperate for Lance to marry her, as she
begs and pleads for him to just say yes, she never even considers hiding that
desperation from him. Despite the
fact that I hate the desperation on display here, I have to admire that she is so
open and remorseless about the whole situation. It shows a strength that others who are equally desperate
for a husband—cough, Bella, cough—fail to adhere to. She’s interested in finding a man, but
she doesn’t fall for just any one—a fact Ten and his skinny ‘Martian-ness’ can
attest to. It should be noted that
Donna is also the only first New
Who companion to not spend the majority of her time head-over-heels in love
with the Doctor, a refreshing turn after the frustration and hostility we’ve
seen at the hands of Martha towards Rose.
Donna’s not only not in love
with the Doctor, she speaks out avidly against it; the very thought of it
almost revolts her.
Role Model Rating:
8/10
From Lorelai to Wonder Woman: Is Donna relatable?
Donna toes the line between seeking a husband and selectively secure as
she takes her time to choose a man that actually interests her. She not only toes the line, she does so
successfully, as she goes so far as to promise the Doctor forever, despite
knowing she has no interest in dating him—or maybe I should say mating. The result is a character who is self-assured enough to know
what she wants, yet insecure enough to doubt achieving an actual goal. This middle ground is highly relatable,
serving to not isolate either party—the Bellas, who wish only for marriage, or
the Katniss’s, who wish only to survive the world. But perhaps the most relatable factor of Donna’s personality
is the deep-seated insecurities that fuel the fire behind her temper. She’s been told repeatedly—by her
mother, of all people—that she’s desperate for attention, yet unworthy of
any. This, of course, only spurs
on a deeper insecurity and driven need for attention, resulting in an even
louder yelling Donna. But not all
of the shouting Donna does is in vain.
She may shout at the world, but she does, on occasion, save it, to the
point where species all across the universe know her name. Even as she screams, “please, I don’t
want to forget, please don’t make me
forget,” and the Doctor tears up at the thought of losing his best friend—and
worse yet, his best friend losing herself—she
continues to be the most important and, more prominently, most average companion on the show to
date. Donna Noble, the woman who changed
the world with one decision to turn left, gives us the hope that we can be as
extraordinary too.
Relatability Rating:
10/10
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