The backdrop for this character study is Mercy, an old western town under attack from a lone cybernetic figure known as the Gunslinger. His target is Kahler-Jex, an alien surgeon who's taken up residence in the town following the crash-landing of his ship on Earth. The origins of the Gunslinger - and what Jex has done to incur his wrath - are both mysteries to be solved by the Doctor and the Ponds, who've arrived in Mercy to find the town at breaking point, their supplies depleted, the Gunslinger waiting ominously beyond their borders. As he investigates, the Doctor uncovers the truth about Jex's dark past; a past that's uncomfortably similar to his own.
The driving force in this story is the Doctor's character arc - travelling sans the Ponds for so long has left him distant and dispassionate, as evidenced in his treatment of Solomon in last week's Dinosaurs on a Spaceship, and as a result we see here a much darker side to him, a hint of the Time Lord Victorious last witnessed at the tail end of Tennant's era. Matt Smith is at the top of his game; whilst there's still plenty of humour to be found in his performance ('His name is Susan, and he wants you to respect his life choices!'), there's also anger and vengeance, particularly in his scenes with Adrian Scarborough's Jex. These two alien doctors crackle off of each other, debating morality and reformation in a manner that invokes Whithouse's sensational Being Human series, in particular the character of Mitchell. Jex is, as he states in the episode, very much a distorted reflection of the Doctor; filled with rage, guilt and solitude, tainted with the horrific atrocities of his past and desperate to repent. Ultimately, it is these similarities between them that drives the Doctor over the edge, that forces him to pick up a revolver and threaten to hand Jex over to the Gunslinger. This, I think, is the true genius of this episode - whereas in any over scenario the Doctor's actions would have been horrifically out of character, in A Town Called Mercy they are completely justified because the Doctor sees himself in Kahler-Jex. The Doctor has always feared himself more than any of his enemies; even more so than Whithouse's previous story, The God Complex, this episode drives that point home.
However, it simply wouldn't be Doctor Who if anger and hatred won out over compassion, and so it falls to Amy to realign the Doctor's moral compass. Her confrontation with the Doctor is written and portrayed with sincerity, and as with last week's episode we see that Amy has very much been shaped as a person by her travels with the Doctor, standing up for the condemned when even her closest friend wants him dead. This strength of morals, the clear view of what's right and what's wrong - 'this is not how we roll, and you know it' - is a role that would usually fall to the Doctor himself, so it's very telling to see him instead be reprimanded by his companion after he's been travelling alone for so long. 'My friends have always been the best of me,' the Doctor once said; a statement that has never been more true than here. It's a shame, then, that Gillan is given little else to do outside of counterbalancing the Doctor's rage, while Rory is similarly underused throughout the story. Though it's perfectly reasonable to have an episode focus more on the Doctor than his friends, with the final days of the Ponds approaching it seemed rather unusual to have them play relatively minor roles in one of their last adventures with the Doctor.
Though this dark twist to the Doctor's persona is the crux of the story, it resolves itself around the two-thirds mark. Fortunately, the episode's other story, of the cyborg Gunslinger on its hunt for justice, is there to pick up the slack, and for the most part it succeeds. This is the part of the story that really embraces the western genre; from the moment the Doctor sidles through the saloon doors, to his high noon showdown against the Gunslinger, it's clear that the production team are clever enough to pay homage to the genre without feeling cliched or tacky. Isaac, Mercy's concerned sheriff, could have been very one-note and caricatured, but thanks to Ben Browder's lovely performance and the elegant flow of the dialogue, he is instead a genuinely likable character. Moreover, many of the tropes of the western are subverted here, resulting both in comedy and drama - the lone journey through the desert on horseback, for example, becomes a lot less lonely when the Doctor starts conversing with his horse, and having him whip the sonic screwdriver from his holster during the showdown, instead of the pistol he so infamously brandished earlier in the episode, was another fun addition. It also helped that the production value of the story was so high, with everything from the direction to the set design feeling very polished. The location filming in Spain qualifies the story as a genuine spaghetti western, having been shot in the same province as the famous Fistful of Dollars film trilogy, lending the episode an air of authenticity that no studio stage can replicate. Furthermore, Murray Gold produces some of his finest work here - his music is always to a high standard, but this episode in particular encapsulates his talent, with two particularly powerful pieces being the Gunslinger's hostile, electronic theme and the stylised, slightly haunting underscore that plays as the TARDIS trio first enter Mercy.
Ultimately, the two plotlines - The Doctor's strengthening violent streak and the Gunslinger's quest for revenge - dovetail together in Khaler-Jex's escape from Mercy. The entire scene is so wonderfully revealing of the Doctor's character; despite his immense dislike for Jex, the Doctor urges him to flee rather than face the consequences of his actions, yells for him to leave Earth and escape his cybernetic assailant. Why? Because this is exactly what the Doctor does. He travels onwards, running from his past and the terrible things he's done, searching for a way to help people so he can repent for his sins. Once again, Jex acts as a mirror to the Doctor; but rather than run, he chooses death, decides to end the violence and chaos he has caused by sacrificing himself. The significance of this single act is phenomenal - for all the people he helped, and all the suffering he stopped, Jex still ultimately decided that the world would be a more peaceful place with him gone. Why, do you think, is the Doctor forever so eager to sacrifice himself to save others? Is it pure heroism, or is there a part of him that thinks the universe would be a better place if he wasn't around? These questions, amongst others, are most likely to be left unanswered for the time being, but there's no doubt that Whithouse has once again presented us with a thoroughly fascinating insight into our favourite Time Lord.
There's a common theme running through the stories Toby Whithouse has produced for Doctor Who since its revival in 2005. School Reunion sees the Doctor explaining in pained tones why he so often leaves his companions behind; Vampires in Venice has Rory angered that the Doctor 'makes people want to impress him'; and the Doctor's desire the save people, his very own god complex, is explored in, well, The God Complex. It seems that Whithouse's talents lie in exploring the depths of a character's thoughts and motivations, and - while this series' arc seems to take the question of 'Doctor Who?' a little more literally - in A Town Called Mercy, we are in many ways given a piece of the answer, in coming another step closer to understanding the fascinating character of the Doctor.
If you've enjoyed my review, please feel free to read my reviews of the other stories from this series - Asylum of the Daleks and Dinosaurs on a Spaceship. You can also, if the mood takes you, follow me on twitter or tumblr. Thank you for reading, and I'll hopefully see you next week with my review of The Power of Three.
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