The setup is simple yet effective: in a remote Welsh village in 2020, a drilling project accidentally awakens a group of Silurians in suspended animation beneath the Earth. The ground literally swallows people whole, and a mystery unfolds as to who—or what—is taking them. The atmosphere is thick with dread, aided by some effective use of night-time visuals, underground caverns, and flickering lights.
Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor thrives in stories where diplomacy and intellect are needed more than sonic screwdrivers and running. Here, he’s a man of peace, trying desperately to broker understanding between the Silurians and the humans. His frustration with both sides when talks begin to break down is palpably sincere. He’s not just solving a problem—he’s trying to change history.
The Doctor’s belief in a better future is put to the test here. He’s caught between centuries of mistrust and fear, and this brings a different energy to the story. Rather than simply defeating monsters, he’s attempting reconciliation. In many ways, The Hungry Earth plays like a parable: about colonialism, fear of the other, and how easily good intentions can be sabotaged by suspicion and violence.
Karen Gillan’s Amy gets a strong role in the early parts of the episode, particularly during her abduction and capture by the Silurians. Her scenes in the underground chambers bring tension and showcase her bravery. Arthur Darvill’s Rory is likewise coming into his own, taking charge on the surface and showing a kind of moral authority when confronting the villagers’ fears.
Chibnall does well to introduce new characters who feel fully realised: Meera Syal’s Nasreen Chaudhry, a passionate geologist, is a great addition, and her chemistry with the Doctor is immediate. Ambrose, played by Nia Roberts, is a more conflicted figure—sympathetic but emotionally reactive. She will become more central in the second part, but the seeds of her panic and protectiveness are already planted here.
The redesign of the Silurians was controversial at the time, but in retrospect, it works. The humanoid faces allow for more expressive performances—especially from Neve McIntosh as Alaya. Her scenes as the captured Silurian warrior are among the episode’s strongest. She is proud, unyielding, and goading—deliberately testing the humans’ moral fibre. Her provocations push the story into more ambiguous ethical territory.
Visually, the episode benefits from a well-balanced blend of location shooting and underground set design. The Welsh countryside offers wide-open isolation while the caverns below provide claustrophobic menace. Music by Murray Gold underlines the story’s tension and sense of wonder, especially in the scenes when the Doctor explores the Silurian city.
In 2025, The Hungry Earth feels more relevant than ever. Themes of territory, fear of the unknown, and the dangers of reactive violence continue to resonate. The episode avoids easy binaries. Neither side is fully right or wrong. That ambiguity gives it richness, setting up a second half where consequences matter.
As part one of a two-parter, The Hungry Earth succeeds in building tension, creating atmosphere, and layering its characters with enough moral complexity to raise genuine stakes. It’s less flashy than some of Series 5’s standout episodes, but it’s quietly ambitious, laying important philosophical groundwork for what’s to come.
Next up: Cold Blood—where choices will matter, and the cost of peace is revealed.
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