Doctor Who: Lux

Lux, the second episode of the series, sees the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) and Belinda (Varada Sethu) land in 1950s America to discover that the local cinema is chained up, 15 people are missing, and a cartoon character roams free from his celluloid.

Taking the form of Mr Ring-A-Ding, a 2D cartoon projection voiced with theatrical flair by Alan Cumming, audiences learn that our cartoon villain is the next God of the Pantheon: Lux Imperator, God of Light. While his motives are as flat as his cel-shaded silhouette – world domination with a vaudevillian twist – the episode is anything but shallow. Lux boasts a sensational appreciation for animation, the power of cinemagoing, especially in post-war America, and the importance of diverse, representative storytelling.

With a perfect cold opener, the best seen in the show for years, the tone created was immediately reminiscent of Doctor Who under Russell T Davies‘ first tenure. Director Amanda Brotchie (Renegade Nell, Gentlemen Jack) executes every beat precisely, establishing threat, side characters, and ambience with an acute understanding of each’s importance to the broader story. To do all this before the opening credits, and to give adequate time to our tap-dancing cartoon, is a masterclass in directing.

‘I have toppled worlds. Sometimes, I wait for people to topple their world. Until then, I live in it, and I shine.’

Then we kick into gear. Russell T Davies, the episode’s writer, pens a beautiful ode to the late Rock Hudson, a closeted gay actor who died of complications from Aids. As a subject matter close to Davies’s heart, something he previously explored in It’s A Sin (2021), Lux begins taking on an additional layer of importance; representation.

In addition to Davies writing an acknowledgement to the All That Heaven Allows star, he draws attention to the lingering segregation within America, exploring how that would impact the Doctor as a Black man and Varada Sethu’s British-Indian companion.

In a similar vein to the discomfort I experienced in Dot and Bubble (2024), to see another instance of a White man presenting the struggles of two Black individuals, especially within the context of racial discrimination, lends itself to the commodification of Black trauma in media. Whilst it was good to reference it, there is a level at which I wonder how relevant it becomes to the story and if Davies was the best to tell it.

Thankfully, the episode had a South Asian History Advisor, Dr Hardeep Dhillon. However, with zero mention of Dr Dhillon’s involvement in the companion show Doctor Who: Unleashed or a clearer exploration of how her consultation impacted or shaped the story or our characters, it ultimately feels distasteful under Davies’ direction.

This aside, I am delighted that this series has two Black writers, Sharma Angel-Walfall and Inua Ellams, who write episodes three and five, respectively. I’m still hopeful for better representation beyond two new voices to the show, especially as Angel-Walfall and Davies co-share a writing credit for The Well. Still, seeing a step toward meaningful inclusion after their absence in the previous series is encouraging.

‘You’re not celluloid. You’re made of light. Light come to life.’

Beyond this, though, whether intended or not, the parallels between Lux and the animation canon of its era are pinpoint accurate. Where you may assume this is about the rubber hose hand-drawn style, I was instead amazed by its acute reflection of cartoons from the period.

From the moment we first meet Mr Ring-A-Ding and Sunshine Sally in the cold open to when the Doctor and Belinda manipulate the frame, there is such consideration put into staying true to the animation of the era. For example, the sequence where the Doctor and Belinda manipulate the celluloid’s frame to escape is almost identical to the 1943 MGM cartoon Dumb Hounded by cartoonist legend Tex Avery. More interestingly still, a Warner Brothers cartoon from the same period of the episode, Duck Amuck, released in 1953, has Daffy Duck break the fourth wall similarly left standing in an ethereally empty frame, waiting for the animator to populate, much like when the Doctor and Belinda are hoping to escape Lux’s games drifting in an illuminated void.

But this is precisely why I find animation so interesting. Audiences are acutely aware of its intertextuality, as unlike live action, the illusion of movement is brought to the forefront of our minds. We appreciate every frame, every second, and every detail in real-time in a way not replicated in live action. What this creates, though, is a curious dichotomy between motion and motionlessness and, most importantly, inanimation into life. A perfect combination when trying to breathe actual life into Mr Ring-A-Ding.

‘I’m a two-dimensional character; you can’t expect a backstory!’

Where Mr Ring-A-Ding may have the charm of Alan Cumming’s voice delivery, the episode does falter with the introduction of additional two-dimensional characters, this time delivered in glorious live action.

In a surprising turn for the story, the Doctor and Belinda Chandra escape from animation and discover they are characters from this very TV show, Doctor Who. Where the animation manipulation was meta, this postmodern approach derails the story into vainglory.

With only 45 minutes of airtime, the episode needed to maintain its pacing to fully realise our villain’s motive and present itself as a justifiable threat to measure alongside The Toymaker and Maestro. Instead, five minutes of the runtime are dedicated to acknowledging the show’s existence, but worse yet, its self-awareness is surface-level at best.

I expected them to draw comparisons between the costume change in Lux and The Devil’s Chord (2024) and the fact that both episodes featuring a God are the second episode of their respective seasons. Still, the show finds humour in the fans’ love of the episode Blink and the plethora of merchandise available for the show. Too much time was given to comedy that didn’t work, applying brakes to an episode that was in no need of slowing down.

I would much rather have seen a further exploration of Lux manipulating light and shadow and the form of cinema, as opposed to self-indulgence in the show’s fanbase, as ultimately, any decisions need to serve the story, not the audience.

With this in mind, if these characters and the themes were to make a reprisal in the finale, with a thematic tie of storytelling and meta-awareness, an ability we’ve seen Mrs Flood demonstrate consistently, I would be keen to see how this is handled. It would allow me to recontextualise so much screen time given to a segment that currently doesn’t work.

As a result, currently, the final act stumbles. Where the animation gags felt rich and inventive, the fourth-wall-breaking twist undercuts the drama. Rather than elevating Lux, it flattens him. The God of Light is reduced from mythic to meta, and the moment he could genuinely become terrifying is lost in a flurry of audience winks.

With such a high-concept idea and being aware of the expensive nature of the animation and VFX required for this episode, I’m not surprised that so much of the episode needed to be sans cartoons. However, keeping the episode grounded within the confines of its locale was the answer, not a deviation into vanity.

Had Lux stuck to its 1950s story, it would have soared, placing it amongst the best episodes to date, but halting the pacing with whiplash immediacy meant that, with little runtime left, it had to recover the audience’s focus and re-establish Lux as both a threat and a gleeful cartoon.

Doctor Who: Lux is available for UK audiences on BBC iPlayer. New episodes are released weekly on Saturday at 08:00 BST on the streaming platform or broadcast later on BBC One. For viewers outside the UK, the show can be watched exclusively on Disney+.