Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Trev Simpkins (Doctor Who)

Other than Paddington 2, which I watched for Peter Capaldi and includes a teeny-tiny Joel Fry appearance, this is the only role of his I watched in between seeing Our Flag Means Death and starting Joel Fry-days. It’s the only project I went into knowing he was going to be in it—knowing and liking him, excited to see him, but not yet watching it specifically for him. It was fun to revisit the episode now. Although it’s a bit of a letdown as a Joel Fry project, that’s purely because he’s not in it nearly enough. Every minute Trev is onscreen, he’s simply a delight!

Since I’ve already reviewed this episode, I wanted to write something different for today’s post, and a Neurodivergent Alley seemed like a good choice. I suspect you’ll be seeing these for more of Joel Fry’s characters sooner rather than later! Before we get into it, here’s my Joel Fry-days addendum to my original Sunday Who Review post:

Accent Watch

Sounds like Southern British English.

Recommend?

In General – Overall, I would (if you already know Doctor Who—this would be a rough episode to start out on.) It’s kind of messy, but there’s also a lot of loveliness and creativity here.

Joel Fry – Yes. I love Trev!

Warnings

Violence, mild language, scary moments for kids, and thematic elements.

I don’t write about my personal speculation about performers’ neurotypes, so I’m just looking at the characters here. But at this point, I’m suspecting that Joel Fry is one of those actors where most of their characters feel autistic. And from what I’ve seen so far, Fry’s characters often feel autistic in different ways, which I like a lot. If you take, say, Frenchie, Darren from White Van Man, and Bob from American Sweatshop, they all seem autistic to me despite having so many differences between them. Additionally, I have forthcoming reviews of some other roles where Fry’s character canonically has another form of neurodivergence, such as depression or a psychotic disorder.

All right, let’s talk Trev. He works security at the Time Hotel, and he encounters the Doctor in the lobby, nicking milk and biscuits in his dressing gown and slippers. The Doctor brushes off Trev’s concerns that he might be trespassing and returns to the TARDIS. But he quickly comes back out again, having realized he noticed something mysterious that needs investigating. He enlists Trev to help him on his “top-secret dangerous mission,” and despite being a little uncertain and nervous about that, Trev is all in.

As I said, the episode doesn’t have nearly enough Trev, and much of his dialogue is functional—he’s a person to listen to the Doctor’s observations and theories, someone who can explain little details about the Time Hotel. As such, I just don’t know enough about Trev to say whether or not he’s autistic. I’m pretty darn sure he has anxiety, though, so that’s what we’ll be looking at today.

We’ll start with what little is in the text, then move onto the specifics of Joel Fry’s performance (which is where the real meat is.) Trev repeatedly begins statements with “sorry”: sorry to interrupt, sorry if he’s mistaken, etc. His kneejerk response is to apologize for his presence or thoughts. And when the Doctor recruits him for the mission, Trev is confused, overwhelmed, and hanging on for dear life as he tries to follow the wild twists of an adventure with the Doctor. I love this exchange between them, when the Doctor takes him by the arm and starts strolling around the lobby:

THE DOCTOR: “Keep it casual, like you haven’t noticed anything dangerous.” 

TREV: “But I haven’t noticed anything dangerous.” 

THE DOCTOR: “Then why aren’t you strolling better?” 

TREV: “Well, I’m pretending not to notice something I haven’t noticed. I really haven’t perfected a stroll for that!”

I love them, your honor! Is it too late to have two full seasons of Trev as the Fifteenth Doctor’s companion?

I also love that, while Trev really doesn’t know what’s going on and is apprehensive about what to do, he is also determined to make good. When the Doctor tasks him with following a suspicious character, Trev vows to come through for him, adding, “No, seriously, I’m on this—I’m on this. This is gonna be the least I’ve ever let anybody down.” This line, of course, suggests that Trev is used to letting people down, but I like that he doesn’t let his nerves or his past failures (real or perceived) stop him from doing everything he can to help.

All these moments are great, and while they wouldn’t necessarily point to neurodivergence on their own, Joel Fry’s performance puts a particular slant on it. Trev stammers a lot, and he has a habit of putting pauses in the middle of his sentences in odd places. And I’m obsessed with Fry’s body language here. Honestly, Trev is fidgeting for a good chunk of his screentime—mostly rubbing his fingertips with his thumbs (a common anxious stim among Fry’s characters,) but he also plays with his cuff and the bottom of his shirt. When he first approaches the Doctor, his arms are folded tightly across his chest in an uncomfortable manner, and there’s another scene where his shoulders are tensely raised up. Everything about Trev’s body language screams anxiety.

Which, to me, is really cool. I like that the Doctor gets someone who’s uncertain and anxious to help him, that Trev pushes through that anxiety, and that he does help the Doctor in important ways, without magically “fixing” that part of himself. It’s never named as such, making me think it’s more about Joel Fry’s performance than something the show was specifically aiming for. But regardless, it means something to me that the Doctor looks at Trev and thinks, “Yeah, this guy can help me out.”

Doctor Who: “Wish World” – Spoilery Thoughts

*Spoilers!*

All right—this is a bit backward, since I posted my spoilery thoughts on “The Reality War” not long after the finale. Some of the questions I asked after this episode were answered with that one (for good or ill,) while others weren’t really addressed. Still mad about “The Reality War,” by the way. But let’s look back on “Wish World.”

As I said in my original review, the Panjabi Rani’s characterization veers a bit Master-ish at times, but on the whole, I think Archie Panjabi does capture the Rani’s cold, clinical vibe. And although it’s weird that a scientist like her would be going in so hard on the growing supernatural side of the plot, the way she goes about it is very Rani.

The brightly colored police state of the Wish World is a regressive fantasy of heteronormativity and rigidly enforced gender roles. It’s maintained by Conrad’s mind, and any instance of doubt weakens the integrity of the wish, so much so that tea mugs will fall straight through the table. People euphemistically refer to these moments as “slips,” cleaning up the broken ceramics with plastered-on cheerfulness and getting out a new mug from the cupboard filled with them. “Don’t worry, it’s only natural,” Belinda’s mom insists. “Easily undone and easily fixed.”

Obviously, this is a bad time for our heroes, but this unstable world is more than a trap for the Doctor, Belinda, and company. Rather, it’s the specific conditions the Rani needs for her latest venture. In order to reach Omega in the Underverse, she needs to peel back the very skin of reality itself. And how to do that? With doubt. She wants the Wish World to be “full of mistakes” because, despite the dystopian policing against doubts and questions, that’s exactly what she needs. As the Doctor and the humans feel the wrongness of the world they’re inhabiting and begin to question it, they inadvertently create cracks in the Wish World, which in turn only amplifies the doubts. Create enough of it and the Wish World falls apart, punching a big enough hole through reality that the Rani can reach through to Omega. And look, I know how things turn out with that in “The Reality War,” but that is such a cool concept and feels like such a Rani thing to do!

While the Panjabi Rani plots the objective and the Mrs. Flood Rani does the legwork, Conrad does the wishing. After seeing his hard-right heel turn in “Lucky Day,” it’s really interesting to see him working for the Ranis. The conspiracy theorist podcast bro has become the seemingly benevolent god of the Wish World, the sweetest-faced Big Brother you’ve ever seen smiling at you from your TV. Given that we know how mercenary and underhanded he is, it’s immediately unsettling to see him in this happy-shiny position, and somehow, it’s even more unsettling to see him off-camera. When Mrs. Flood comes to check on Conrad, he acts like a slightly confused little boy eager to please his mommy. He sounds sort of like a character in one of the children’s stories he reads on the airwaves. “It’s such a lot of hard work, all the thinking,” he admits. “Sometimes I forget about the weather, and—and South Africa gets flooded.” Mrs. Flood croons in reply, “Oh darling, you’re worn out.” It’s kind of fascinating, and this shift never really gets explained to my satisfaction. Is Conrad’s personality being affected by the wish too? We know his mom was mean and hurtful—is he falling back into old fawning behaviors to win the Rani’s approval? Is this who Conrad has been under the facade of the big bad redpill guy all along? We don’t learn what this is about.

I still think it’s kind of a dodge that Conrad’s world is full of sexism and homophobia but no racism. I understand that they’re different kinds of bigotry—when someone falls outside prescribed gender roles and heteronormativity, a police state can force them to attempt to perform that. The Doctor and Belinda are brainwashed into a “perfect” marriage with an adorable daughter, and Belinda’s mom and grandma are already preparing to “drum” the cheekiness out of Poppy. Independent women and queer men can be forced into cookie cutter boxes, even though it’s wrong, and part of the conflict becomes seeing how the characters begin to jar out of step with those around them. With racism, BIPOC people could be forced to perform white adjacence, packaging themselves in a way that’s non-threatening to whiteness, but with the exception of white-passing folks, you couldn’t actually perform being white. So if racism was a major factor in the Wish World, it wouldn’t be used in the same way, and arguably it would’ve put the Doctor and Belinda on the margins of the story, pushing Ruby even more to the forefront (though what would’ve happened to her family?) But it’s still a dodge that a world with rampant sexism and homophobia has no racism.

That said, I’m interested in how another aspect of Conrad’s prejudices works against him as it operates within the wish. As Ruby remembers flashes of the real world, she meets others who experience the same thing: a group of disabled people living in a homeless encampment. Their theory is that, because Conrad’s wish is sustaining the world and disabled people are largely invisible to him, they’ve escaped his notice and are thus less affected by the Wish World. This allows them to plot against him.

Lastly, Rogue! I’m not as big a fan of him as some, but I do enjoy Jonathan Groff and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be trapped in a Hell Dimension. (Look for him, Doctor!) While his appearance is almost comically out-of-left-field, it’s fun to see him pop up again, and I like his message for the Doctor. If I think about it much more, I’m going to get mad about the events of the season finale again, so we’ll leave it there. Hi, Rogue! Bye, Rogue!

Doctor Who: “The Interstellar Song Contest” – Spoilery Thoughts

*As I say, spoilers.*

Okay, finally getting back to mixing in some Sunday Who Reviews. My brain is still thoroughly latched onto Our Flag Means Death/Joel Fry, but I have a bit of space for other stuff too. So let’s revisit “The Interstellar Song Contest,” especially how it handles Kid and the Hellions.

Look, there’s some stuff here I like. Cora is a good character, and even if I could guess where things are going with her before the reveal, it’s still affecting to see what happened to her horns. I also appreciate that “good” characters like Gary and Mike aren’t immune to the propaganda about the Hellions. It’s horrific to learn that the Corporation bought a planet wholesale, exploited its precious poppies, and burned the fields so no one else could copy their product. This story reminded me a little of a ruthless capitalist take on the Ghorman story from Andor, which was airing around the same time.

But then, of course, there’s Kid. An angry, broken young man from a ravaged planet, whose mom was killed before he could even be named. He, and all the Hellions, have staggering legitimate grievances with the Corporation over the countless deaths and environmental devastation they’ve caused, not to mention the mercenary propaganda campaign. And how does he decide to get his revenge? Staging an attack on the Interstellar Song Contest, killing literally trillions of people so that the Corporation, the contest’s main sponsor, will be ruined.

We see this in genre media a lot: the antagonist with a tragic backstory and understandable motives, who aims to commit villainy so heinous that the hero obviously has to take them down by any means necessary. The MCU is the first that comes to mind—Killmonger, the Flag Smashers—but it’s hardly the only franchise to do with. The antagonist’s legitimate points lose all credibility because they’re so over-the-top extreme in their ideology, allowing the story to say, “Look, complex villain! So nuanced!” while also giving the hero a straightforward “clean” victory with no anguish over what’s really the right decision.

What makes all this even thornier is the parallels to real life. Over the last couple years, I’ve heard about the controversy surrounding Eurovision blocking any participation from or onstage references to Palestinians, while Israel freely competes without pushback. The Hellions’ situation isn’t precisely like that of Gaza, but it’s still uncomfortably close, and the batshit handling of Kid creates a portrait of the issue that kind of both-sides it.

So here we have the show telling a story about a campy interstellar song contest that nods directly to Eurovision. They introduced an oppressed minority from a ravaged homeland, and the sponsors of the contest are directly responsible for the destruction of their planet. We meet none of the destroyers and three of the oppressed. Of those three, two of them commit a terrorist attack—with one eager to, again, kill trillions of people. It’s clumsy, and because the storyline alludes to such devastating real-world events, that gives us an episode that’s pretty troubling.

Additionally, there’s the Doctor’s reaction to Kid. In fairness, the Doctor is with Gary and Mike, and he only hears the propaganda version of the Hellions. He doesn’t know what really happened to them, and he does know that Kids wants to kill trillions of people, I will never shut up about that. I’d say here, the Doctor goes past the Oncoming Storm, past the Time Lord Victorious, in something genuinely scary. Ncuti Gatwa plays that coldness really well—ooh, his delivery on, “You have put ice in my heart, darling. You put it there”—but it’s disturbing to watch the Doctor repeatedly torture a man, even one who’s committed a horrific crime and attempted one that’s infinitely worse. And the fact that this story is the one that brings out the Doctor’s vicious side? This antagonist? And that, unnerved as she is, Belinda hugs him afterwards and they don’t fully deal with it? And that we pivot from that into a peppy resolution where the Doctor saves everyone and a poignant resolution where Cora sings a song from her broken planet? It definitely leaves a bad taste in my mouth.