How the Interstellar Song Contest critiques media spectacle and corporate propaganda in Doctor Who

Doctor Who: The Interstellar Song Contest dazzles the galaxy with a glittering intergalactic music competition, captivating trillions with its spectacle of unity and cultural exchange. However, the contest turns into a tool of control, manipulation, and exploitation under all the bright lights and catchy beats.

The spectacle as a tool of control

The Interstellar Song Contest is more than simply a talent show; it's a carefully staged spectacle meant to divert the attention of the populace. The glamor masks a sinister purpose as holograms and suspended souls of artists who have passed away or gone missing perform as if they were present.

Graham Norton as a hologram after Earth has vanished from the Solar System is a call to reality, yes, but also fun. What does it tell about us? When seen as nothing more than props, these digital recreations bring up disturbing ethical concerns around the use of AI to imitate artists who are unable to provide their consent anymore.

A galactic obsession with entertainment turns the tournament into a tool of control, a means of creating nostalgia and manipulating public opinion through carefully staged performances that are both compelling and empty.

The episode doesn’t shy away from showing how easily the public can be mesmerized by the allure of artificial artistry, forgetting that behind every projected face is a person whose legacy has been commodified and whose essence has been reduced to a pixelated replica.

The Interstellar Song Contest and repression wrapped in entertainment

The backdrop of the episode is a stark reminder of the oppressive reality that exists beneath the surface of the artistically stunning Interstellar Song Contest. Hidden behind the hypnotic stage adorned with holographic projections and otherworldly effects are the atrocities committed by the event planners.

An underlying, darker theme—the use of art to appease the masses—is highlighted by the usage of holograms and digitally preserved performers. Resurrected as lifeless shells, with their voices and likenesses used to transmit meticulously crafted stories, are persons who ought to be laid to rest in peace. Their real tales are erased and their legacies reshaped to fit the objectives of the powerful through the spectacle.

The unethical practice of keeping artists "alive" through digital copies (and, in the episode, suspended animation as well) is then questioned. Is it a fitting homage to their craft or a clever diversion from the ugly realities that lurk outside the arena's dazzling lights?

The Hellions: survivors, rebels, and the power of voice

In The Interstellar Song Contest, the Hellions stand as a chilling symbol of cultural oblivion, having gone from a bustling society to little more than an echo. They had their homes leveled and their voices muzzled. Regarded as evil throughout the galaxy.

A faceless, all-powerful corporation that exploits living and dead people for financial gain is the unseen hand at the wheel of the spectacle. The Interstellar Song Contest is funded by The Corporation not because it loves music, but to divert the cosmos from the destruction it has caused to entire civilizations like the Hellions by keeping them occupied.

This is more than simply a contest; it's a campaign to divert attention away from the real issue at hand, using entertainment as a tool of social control. Art as a weaponized diversion, pain as spectacle, and opposition as entertainment—these are the ways the Corporation makes money.

Two Hellions, Kid and Cora Saint Bavier, serve as opposites in the story despite the unrelenting repression. They are on opposing sides of the same suffering, yet they are native Hellion people fighting for the liberation of their planet from the tyranny of the great Corporation, which has turned their homeland into fields of "Hell Poppies" to flavor their honey.

In his violent quest for revenge, Kid is motivated by a mix of desolation and wrath. He hopes to derail the competition and make the galaxy pay attention to the crimes done to his people.

Contrarily, Cora takes a fresh tack by using music to revive the forgotten history of her people. Her raw performance serves as a call to action for recognition, a moving reminder that some voices will not be silenced, even in the most glittering arena.

The episode raises an important question through these two characters: Which form of resistance—art or violence—is more effective? What can a song say about the systems that use other people's pain for their own gain?

The Doctor’s moral struggle: heroism versus ruthlessness

Throughout The Interstellar Song Contest, the Doctor grapples with a familiar yet unsettling dilemma: when does the fight for justice cross the line into vengeance? The Doctor's reaction to Kid's plot to sabotage the competition is intense, a fit of vengeful wrath that suggests he has unresolved traumas of his own.

Kid's vengeful plot echoes the Doctor's history as a being who has seen entire civilizations destroyed. After all, the Doctor is a survivor of genoc*de. In his haste to stop additional carnage, the Doctor's reaction verges on brutality as the Hellions' suffering brings back memories of his own people.

An idealist who has spent a lifetime rescuing worlds and a young rebel whose pain is his sole weapon meet in a heated confrontation in his encounter with Kid.

As the episode deftly navigates the line between heroism and authoritarianism, the Doctor is confronted with a harsh reality: in his mission to save the innocent, he runs the danger of turning into the very villain he fought against before.

Art as protest: Cora Saint Bavier's song

A rebellious act of resistance, Cora Saint Bavier's performance stands out in a galaxy where voices are silenced and legacies are controlled. Her melody pierces through the artificial glitter of The Interstellar Song Contest like a knife through butter, unlike the fake holograms that waltz across the stage.

A reclaiming of her people's stolen story, Cora's song is more than just music. Symbolic of the Hellions' anguish and a somber lament for their culture's erasure, the lyrics reverberate with grief. Her voice serves as both a eulogy and a rallying cry.

A break from the artificiality of the competition, Cora's performance provides an emotional counterpoint. Cora's words take on a new power: they are an unstoppable tale and an unstoppable truth.

The ethics of suspended legacy: the illusion of immortality

Holograms and digitally preserved performers add a sinister twist to The Interstellar Song Contest, turning the show into a nightmare for the audience. This contest raises disturbing concerns about the ethical limits of technology by resurrecting these "performers" without their knowledge and manipulating their voices and likenesses to fit the contest's storyline.

In the episode, the holograms' realism adds to the spectacle's eerie atmosphere, but the real thing is what they stand for: a history preserved in time, taken out of its original context, and given new life as an amusement. Technology prevents these artists from letting go and resting, while their likenesses are utilized to promote a story that may not reflect their genuine selves.

While the illusion of immortality may seem like an appropriate tribute to the artists who have passed away at first look, it is also a disturbing act of erasure that sacrifices the artists' autonomy for the benefit of spectacle.

As the story progresses, an unsettling reality becomes apparent: in a future when technology can put people in suspended animation in addition to reproducing their images long after they've passed away, whose story is being recounted?

Beyond the screen: what does Doctor Who want us to question?

The Interstellar Song Contest is a terrifying look at the dark side of manipulating art through spectacle as Doctor Who reveals a galaxy enamored with spectacle. With its holograms and artificial performers, the gorgeous competition becomes a chilling metaphor for a society that doesn't let the dead rest, where digital limbo holds their legacies, and voices are recycled to fit stories they never agreed to.

As an audience, are we involved in the erasure of real tales and real lives when we watch content that manipulates the reality for dramatic effect? The show raises a bigger and more disturbing question than simply the ethics of reanimating artists for entertainment. It talks about cultural erasure. This is also a stark reminder that no amount of technology can ever trump the genuineness of an outspoken individual's refusal to be silenced.