TV Review | Doctor Who: “Can You Hear Me?” by Charlene James & Chris Chibnall

Almost sixty years ago, when Doctor Who was on the drawing board, three story types were proposed: past, future and sideways. The second and third Doctors’ eras later brought a fourth into the mix, that of the present-day invasion, and now the Chris Chibnall era has added its own – the laughable. Penned by provocative playwright Charlene James, who shares her credit with the almost omnipresent showrunner, “Can You Hear Me?” is, without exception, the most peculiar Doctor Who story ever televised. It’s also the first outing for this particular TARDIS team that my daughter hasn’t liked, though whether this was because she genuinely thought it was rubbish or because it just scared the shit out of her, I really can’t say.

As its science-fiction plot is, at best, incomprehensible, “Can You Hear Me?” lives and dies on the strength of its nightmarish imagery – and there are few images in recent memory as vivid as that of the wraith-like Zellin (played by Ian Gelder, better known to Game of Thrones fans as Ser Kevan Lannister) detaching his fingers and sending them flying through the air to plug the ears of unwitting sleepers. However, as if ear rape is not enough of a nightmare in of itself, these detached digits then induce disturbing dreams, which they then videotape and transmit to Zellin’s fellow immortal, who’s a bit bored as she’s been trapped between two crashing planets for millennia – punishment, we’re told, for playing war games on a planetary scale. It’s here that most viewers would be forgiven for either losing the plot (such as it is) or see their mind’s willingness to suspend disbelief abscond. It’s an alarmingly weak and poorly executed premise, and no amount of namechecking the superbeings of the Whoniverse can save it from being otherwise.

Indeed, this episode’s central storyline is so utterly ludicrous that “Can You Hear Me?” would have been a contender for the series’ worst-ever episode were it not for its astonishingly proficient handling of the Doctor’s “extended fam”, who of late have found themselves sorely neglected. James’s theatrical credentials are apparent from how she has Yas and Graham open up about their most intimate personal struggles, as if they were in a play, while Ryan deals with his guilt over leaving behind his best friend, who himself is grappling with demons – and not just those of the baddie-BFG type.

The three companions’ threads are wonderfully written and tenderly played – the closing of a circle for Yas is the most poignant moment of the season to date, while Graham’s attempt to confide in the “socially awkward” Doctor is as touching as it is sad. The trust that Graham places in his alien friend and her subsequent, none-too-subtle removal of herself from the situation speak volumes about both characters while at the same time intensifying the mounting sense of unease that has been building in the Doctor’s friends ever since Spyfall. Whether this will culminate in a parting of ways or the forging of a stronger bond only time will tell, but for the first time since the start of the season I’m rooting for the latter – and all thanks to this episode.

Inescapably though, the series’ discussion of such worldly fears as cancer returning or those surrounding mental health won’t sit well with the growing number of vocal viewers who feel that the show doesn’t offer them the escapism that it once did. I’m not one of them, though, and in fact I applaud any light shone on mental health issues, particularly in young men - if they can do it at football matches, then why not in Doctor Who? Provided that it flows organically from the story’s subject matter, which it does here, then it’s all to the good. Of course, it might have be prudent not to tackle such a taboo topic in an episode destined to be remembered as nothing but mental, but ultimately having the programme deal with daily problems only makes its extraordinary adventures more relatable, not less so. Even for the many children in the audience, cancer and depression are things that they will or should be familiar with by the time that they’re old enough to watch – it’s not as if James is using the show to petrify youngsters with the particulars of female genital mutilation. Airborne fingers and auditory canal penetration are quite adequate for a Sunday evening, thank you.

Unfortunately though, no matter how noble your intentions or how graceful your handling of the TARDIS crew, if you make your villains of the week lazily generic god-like beings with a penchant for ear-poking and impermeable motives, then your episode is going to be synonymous with ridicule; its loveliest moments lost beneath memories of finger missiles and uproar over a helpline number that was about as warranted and as welcome as an explanatory note after a joke. There’s a lesson to be learned here, and it’s not just about wearing earplugs.

Doctor Who airs on Sunday evenings on BBC 1 and is available to stream for the foreseeable future on BBC iPlayer. A season pass comprising all ten episodes of the season in 1080p HD and bonus material is also available from iTunes for £20.99, with episodes typically becoming available the day after their transmission on BBC 1. A Blu-ray steelbook is also available to pre-order from Amazon for £49.99.