After the dizzying spectacle of The Robot Revolution, the second episode of Doctor Who Series 15, titled simply Lux, reins things in—or rather, focuses the weirdness into something tighter, eerier, and stranger. This is Russell T Davies taking a breather from interplanetary upheaval and instead turning his gaze to the haunted corridors of cinema, filtered through 1950s Americana and metaphysical terror. The result is a sleek, self-contained horror fairy tale, with enough postmodern cheek to keep the lights on.
The premise is beautifully straightforward. The Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) tries to take Belinda Chandra (Varada Sethu) home, only to end up in Miami, 1952. There’s something delightfully Who-ish about that detour: the TARDIS doesn’t misbehave so much as reroute with a narrative smirk. Miami is hot, glitzy, and wrong—specifically, the site of fifteen recent disappearances at the Luxor Picture House, a grand old cinema now shuttered and silent.
Inside, the episode descends into nightmare logic. They meet Mr Ring-a-Ding, a cheerful, jingle-spouting cartoon creation rendered here with unsettling physicality by Alan Cumming, who slowly reveals himself to be Lux Imperator, God of Light and a member of the enigmatic Pantheon of Discord. That name-drop is important: Davies is once again playing the long game, continuing a mythology seeded all the way back in the 60th anniversary episodes.
Cumming, as ever, is a joy—arch, eerie, magnetic. His Ring-a-Ding is like a Saturday morning cartoon turned eldritch horror, his wide-eyed smile never quite reaching the eyes. He’s not just the villain; he’s the concept. Lux traps the Doctor and Belinda inside a film reel, forcing them through alternate cinematic realities. In the standout sequence, they find themselves in a surreal meta-comedy where they drink tea and explore favourite adventures (Blink, obviously!) with obsessive Doctor Who fans. It’s the sort of self-awareness that could curdle in lesser hands. Here, it’s note-perfect. Even in the casual mention of #RIPDoctorWho - it's Davies trolling the areas of fandom that appear to be foreshadowing a new hiatus.
Eventually, they break free of the reel, but the danger escalates. Lux imprisons the Doctor, planning to extract his regeneration energy to fashion a corporeal form, one strong enough to survive outside the darkness of the theatre. Gatwa is luminous in these scenes, radiating fear and compassion without ever breaking a sweat. There’s a quiet fury to his Doctor—a recognition of cosmic injustice and the stubborn refusal to bow before it.
The resolution comes, as it should, from Belinda. Varada Sethu is quickly establishing herself as one of the most capable, emotionally intelligent companions in modern Who. While the Doctor is trapped, it’s Belinda who pieces together the truth, convincing the theatre's melancholy owner, Reginald Pye (a haunted Linus Roache), to burn the reels. As the fire spreads and causes destruction, sunlight floods the cinema.
The climax is gorgeous and sad. Lux, exposed to real light, can no longer contain himself. He expands outward, infinitesimally, until he becomes one with the universe. His victims return, unharmed, blinking into daylight. It’s a moment of cosmic mercy rather than brute force, and one that continues Davies' recent trend of emotionally redemptive resolutions. The Pantheon of Discord are terrifying, yes—but they’re also tragic. Gods that want to be remembered. The final moments with Anita Dobson's Mrs Flood, who is appearing more frequently and appears to be omnipresent, foreshadows something quite special on May 24th.
If The Robot Revolution was about power and legacy, Lux is about memory and meaning. It’s no coincidence that the antagonist is tied to cinema, or that the battleground is a decaying movie palace. Davies is interested in the stories we trap ourselves inside, the reels we run again and again. The episode plays like a love letter to the act of watching Doctor Who itself: recursive, nostalgic, and just a little bit haunted.
Stylistically, Amanda Brotchie directs with a luscious flair for colour and shadow. The cinematography within the different film reels is impressively diverse, mimicking film grain, aspect ratio, and colour palettes with a cinephile’s glee. It never feels gimmicky. It feels reverent.
In so many ways, on so many levels, this shouldn't work. But, damn ("forgive my language"), it does. Two episodes in, and Series 15 feels like something special. Gatwa continues to mesmerise, Sethu brings grit and empathy in equal measure, and Davies’ storytelling is wilder, sadder, and more ambitious than it’s been in years.
The Doctor might be trying to take Belinda home. But if Lux proves anything, it’s that home is a long, strange road. And for the rest of us? That’s the fun of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment