Review: Doctor Who Season 15 - Episode 2: Lux

A Psychedelic Dive Into Memory, Myth, and Media…

In its long and storied history, Doctor Who has rarely shied away from experimentation, but Lux pushes the boundaries of the show’s format in a way that is both dazzling and deeply emotional. Directed by Amanda Brotchie and penned by Russell T Davies, this episode fuses classic animation, drama, and meta-narrative into a surreal episode of quintessential sci-fi.

Lux begins with the Doctor (Ncuti Gatwa) and Belinda Chandra (Varada Sethu), arriving in 1952 Miami. Soon the pair are drawn by the strange energy readings that surround the locked-down Palazzo Cinema. Within moments, the setting turns sinister as the Doctor discovers that the deserted theatre holds a dark secret, fifteen people have vanished without explanation, and the projector seems to run all by itself. Before long, the Doctor and Belinda are pulled—literally—into the film reel, transformed into cartoon versions of themselves and thrust in to the lushly animated landscape ruled by a tap-dancing, velvet-voiced figure named Mr. Ring-a-Ding (Alan Cumming).

As it turns out, Mr. Ring-a-Ding is the mortal embodiment of Lux Imperator, an ancient “god of light” who was captured and imprisoned in celluloid by a grieving man named Reginald Pye. Reginald, mourning the loss of his wife, found solace in the idea of a place where memory and light could preserve the past. In doing so, however, he unleashed a creature of immense power and ego, one who craves the adoration of an audience and the need to feed on light. The Doctor and Belinda then spend the rest of the episode navigating the surreal environments of cinema, shifting from slapstick to eerie noir, and eventually even encountering a scene where they find themselves within our own universe and at mercy to the dreaded Doctor Who fandom. 

At its core, the episode grapples with the nature of nostalgia and the human tendency to seek reassurance in our memories. Reginald’s desire to trap time through the cinema by preserving his late wife in the light of the projector leads to the disaster.  Whereas Lux, feeds off his creator’s sorrow and yearning, to become an embodiment of memory turned malignant. Im fact as characters go, Lux echoes other classic Who monsters like the Weeping Angels, full of unsettling charisma - and extremely dangerous. Another interesting theme of this episode is its commentary on media consumption. In one scene, the Doctor and Belinda come face-to-face with a scene in which literal Doctor Who fans who are watching their adventures unfold on screens then become part of the episode themselves. It’s a great moment that not only breaks the 3rd wall, it shows how reliant we are for spoilers and plot twists, but also asks what are we holding onto?, and what are we afraid to let go of?

While the bulk of the episode deals with the cinema, the episode doesn’t shy away from the real-world pain of its setting. 1952 Miami is depicted with frankness, particularly in how it treats Belinda and the Doctor as two travellers throw into an America that still deals with segregation. It’s a brief but potent sequence that highlights racial exclusion laws and forces the Doctor to confront how even time travel can’t escape history’s injustices. Russell T Davies has long been a writer willing to intertwine the fantastical with the political, and this episode continues that tradition. It doesn’t linger too long on these moments—but their inclusion gives emotional depth and weight to an otherwise fantastical narrative.

Ncuti Gatwa continues to impress in his second full outing as the Doctor, delivering a performance that is playful, emotional, and commanding. He fully commits to the zaniness of the animated segments—at times delightfully silly, at times devastatingly sincere. His final confrontation with Lux, where he pleads with the god to let go of his desire to be remembered, is one of the Doctor’s most touching monologues in recent years. And for those keeping count, no he doesn’t shed any tears in this episode.

Varada Sethu is quickly proving to be a worthy successor to Ruby Sunday. Belinda’s humanity and dry wit ground the episode, and her animated self has just as much presence as her live-action performance. Her scenes of disbelief and wonder at the absurdity of Lux’s world capture the viewer’s own reactions with her bewilderment soon turning to empathy as the story unfolds. We also see a more caring side as her nurses training takes over once the Doctor becomes injured - and it also gives an excuse to deal with the pent up regeneration energy from that bi-regeneration process.

Alan Cumming is also the perfect fit for playing Lux. Equal parts Willy Wonka, and dare I say the Master, his performance walks a fine line between charming and chilling. His final moments—begging not to be forgotten are haunting, especially when juxtaposed with his earlier flamboyance. But don’t make him laugh! 

Overall Lux is Doctor Who at its most unrestrained—visually inventive, emotionally profound, and gleefully meta. It’s not perfect,its tonal shifts and narrative complexity might overwhelm some viewers, and the animated sequences may not appeal to everyone. But it’s hard not to admire what Davies has attempted when writing the episode. At a time when many long-running franchises are playing it safe, “Lux” dares to ask what it means to remember, to perform, and to let go. It is, fittingly, a story about light—and what happens when you try to hold onto it too tightly.

Rating: 9/10

What did you think of Lux? Were you enchanted by Mr. Ring-a-Ding, or did the animation throw you off? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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