Gustaff Behr reviews the second episode of Series 15.
Rarely do I rewatch modern episodes of Doctor Who, but for “Lux”, I made an exception. It’s the first time in a while—at least on television—where the Doctor truly feels like the Doctor again. The story is timely without being preachy, visually striking without feeling artificial, and driven by a sense of sincerity that the show’s been missing lately. And then there’s Belinda Chandra. Oh, Belinda…
Let’s start with the real show-stealer: Mr Ring-a-Ding. The blend of animation and live-action is nothing new—Roger Rabbit walked so others could run—but the sheer craftsmanship involved here is remarkable. His expressive 2D presence seamlessly transitions into more elaborate 3D renderings, reflecting his escalating emotional instability. Visually, he’s a triumph. Thematically, he’s… kind of a mess.
As a member of the so-called Pantheon, his role feels ill-defined. If he feeds on sunlight, why not just step outside? The episode awkwardly signposts this but never gives a satisfying in-universe answer. Worse, if he originally came from beyond Earth, then he should’ve had access to far more radiant suns than ours. It’s muddled, and that robs Ring-a-Ding of some narrative punch. Still, he’s a compelling antagonist, and that brings out the best in the Fifteenth Doctor.
Much like how “The Haunting of Villa Diodati” served as the definitive Thirteenth Doctor story, “Lux” feels like the quintessential showcase for Ncuti Gatwa’s Fifteenth Doctor. He’s passionate, curious, aggressive when needed, and sincere without being sanctimonious. The pieces have always been there across the season—but this is the first time they truly click into something coherent and compelling.
Well… mostly. He still cries. A lot. And while vulnerability isn’t inherently bad, it’s starting to feel like a reflex. So in the interest of transparency, let’s set up a counter:
Amount of times the Doctor has cried: 14 out of 12 episodes (Yes, the math checks out. He cried four times in Series 14’s finale.)
On a more serious note, this episode also reminds me of a recurring problem that hasn’t clicked: the Doctor rarely saves the day anymore. In fact, he’s been startlingly ineffective for much of his run. Now, it’s pretty common for episodes to juggle between the companion and the Doctor needing to directly save the day, but we’re twelve episodes into Fifteen’s run and he has directly saved the day a total of two times. Let’s recap:
- “Space Babies” – Nearly sucked out the airlock. Jocelyn saves the day.
- “The Devil’s Chord” – The Beatles use the power of music. Literally.
- “Boom” – The AI father takes down the Ambulances.
- “73 Yards” – The Doctor’s not even present to save the day.
- “Dot and Bubble” – He tries to help, but nobody listens, and people die anyway.
- “Rogue” – Nearly gets Ruby killed; it’s budget Jack Harkness who saves her and the day.
- “The Legend of Ruby Sunday” – Completely powerless to stop Sutekh from killing trillions.
- “Joy to the World” – Joy herself ‘saves’ things.
- “The Robot Revolution” – Belinda lands the final blow.
- “Lux” – Belinda saves the day (and the Doctor).
Doctor Saves the Day Counter: 2 / 12 episodes
This isn’t just nitpicking, it’s a structural issue. The Doctor should be fallible, yes. But if he’s perpetually sidelined or dependent on others to wrap things up, what’s left of the character’s agency?
Belinda Chandra, meanwhile, fares much better here than she did last week. She’s still painfully self-absorbed and emotional, guilt-tripping the Doctor into trying to get her home on time, despite his clear explanations that it’s physically impossible right now. I find her obsession with clocking into her NHS job baffling. We’re talking about a woman who’s been offered the chance to go anywhere in time and space… and she wants to work a 9 to 5?
Belinda, babes, live a little. (See how weird and cringy it sounds when I refer to her like that?)
But even with that, we get glimmers of growth. She shows compassion toward the lost souls in the cinema and genuine empathy when the Doctor reveals the truth about Gallifrey. She’s still not likable—not yet—but there’s the hint of something human underneath the snark. Character development is character development.
The script also suffers from one of those weird Doctor Who logic breaks: the convoluted plan to get Belinda back to 24 May 2025, instead of just, you know, popping over to the 23rd or 25th and having her phone it in. The Doctor has jumped forward by a day on numerous occasions, perhaps most memorably in “The Bells of St. John”, where he skipped ahead to exhaust his enemies.
A highlight, though, is the fourth wall break—a cleverly executed twist that subverts expectations. Pre-air leaks had me dreading some self-indulgent monologue delivered straight to camera. Instead, the moment plays out like a piece of meta-theatre: the characters pretend to address the audience, only to reveal they’re in-universe viewers watching the Doctor. That’s the kind of cheeky, layered storytelling I can get behind. Still, a message to Russell T Davies: not all Doctor Who fans are dorky, nerdy or overweight people. Your 2006-era stereotypes from “Love and Monsters” are showing. Again.
The episode subtly engages with the theme of racism, a stark contrast to the more in-your-face approach seen in last season’s “Dot and Bubble.” Here, the episode plants the Doctor and Belinda in 1952 Miami. While the characters are aware of the era’s discriminatory practices, the early morning setting allows them to navigate the environment without direct confrontation. The most overt instance of racism occurs when they are confronted by a fake police officer conjured by Mr. Ring-a-Ding. This approach enables the episode to acknowledge historical prejudices without making them the central focus.
In the end, “Lux” isn’t perfect. It’s messy, weird, and overloaded with ideas that don’t always stick the landing. But it feels like Doctor Who in a way the series has often struggled to recapture. It reminds us why we watch this show: for characters learning to be better, for monsters that make us think, and for stories that don’t talk down to us.
