A Few Thoughts on “Cranky” Twelve

As I’ve said before, I like the Twelfth Doctor’s tetchiness.  I like that he can be a curmudgeon who’ll give a frightened little boy a rousing “Be brave!” speech but draws the line at telling him a bedtime story, who’ll moan when Santa Claus tells him the only way to escape a shared dream state involves everyone holding hands.  I also know that some fans don’t like it and that, for some, it informs their reasons for not liking Twelve.  Today, I want to look a little at this personality trait and why it works for me.

Generally, crankiness is viewed as a character flaw.  We think of it as an attitude that develops over time, one that negatively impacts its bearer and those around them.  We tell people not to be so negative, to just enjoy themselves, and to lighten up.  Although plenty of people gravitate toward crotchety characters (like Sherlock or House,) in real life, the trait is often thought of as that person’s problem that needs fixing.

But really, there’s a difference between how someone feels and how they act, and one of those things can be controlled a lot more than other.  A person is responsible for what they say and do, but despite whatever efforts they make to retrain their brain and “think happy thoughts,” they can’t always help their kneejerk reactions.  That’s why people have pet peeves; we know it’s a little thing, and it doesn’t really matter, but it still sets our teeth on edge.

This is especially true with the Doctor.  Twelve’s cantankerousness isn’t the result of a long pattern of negative thinking or indulging his impatiences.  He regenerated, and in an instant, the script flipped and he was a new man.  And yes, he’s the same, but he’s also different.  I mean, in the blink of an eye, he stopped liking hugs – you wouldn’t even have to watch a full episode with Eleven to realize what a radical shift that is.  He didn’t plan it or ask for it, but it’s now what he has to work with.  We humans can experience that to a limited extent.  Our hormone levels change during things like puberty, and medications or diets can mess with the way we feel.  I can’t quite imagine, though, what it’s like to go through such a massive change in such a short time, particularly one that then becomes fairly fixed.  All of the sudden, stuff he used to enjoy annoys him, and he feels irritated in ways that he often didn’t before.  That has to be disorienting and freaky, and it’s one of the reasons why I get so mad at Clara in series 8 for seemingly not wanting to give the Doctor time to figure this out.

Like I said, though, what the Doctor can control is what he does in response to those stressors and irritants, and while, to some extent, his reactions are dictated by writer fiat, I’ve liked watching the general trend of how he navigates that.  There’s no doubt, sometimes he crosses the line, and that really bugs me (“The Caretaker” is still my personal zenith for dickish Doctor – I hate how dismissively mean he is to Danny there.)  A lot of the time, however, he just grumbles, says unfiltered things, and takes a somewhat fatalistic attitude.  It’s a bite that many Doctors don’t have, but I don’t think it’s inherently bad.  It’s just part of who he is, and it’s not the only part.  He still finds things that he can take joy in, he still ultimately works to help/save people, and even though he’s far less tactful, he still does like and value Clara as a companion.  Series 9 tones this side of him down quite a bit – although, really, his general state of mind seems a little all over the place that season – but I like that it’s not gone entirely.  He can be a wonderful friend to humanity and a prickly curmudgeon, which is a dichotomy I like having around.