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“THE INTERSTELLAR SONG CONTEST: A DUGGA-DOO DISASTER AND A SHOWSTOPPING SPACE OPERA”

As a die-hard Eurovision fan, it’s hard not to be giddy at the very idea of Doctor Who doing a Eurovision episode. Juno Dawson pens The Interstellar Song Contest as a glittering celebration of Europe’s most fabulous export, but true to Doctor Who form, it quickly pivots from kitschy musical camp to blood-chilling sci-fi horror. The year is 2925. The setting is the vast and glitzy Harmony Arena. The event? The 803rd Interstellar Song Contest, hosted with plastic-fantastic charm by a cryogenically preserved Rylan, who’s been kept in stasis between contests so he remains as perky and polished as ever.

But just as the party’s kicking off, catastrophe strikes. A terrorist attack tears open the side of the space station, sucking thousands—including the Doctor and the TARDIS—out into the void of space. It’s a genuinely horrifying moment, arguably one of the darkest in modern Who, not least because it’s played straight and visually arresting. Yet the impact is slightly dampened by the reveal that nobody actually dies—they're all caught in a mavity field, suspended and retrievable. It’s classic Who logic: daring and terrifying, then quickly softened. Still, the sequence lingers in the mind, a testament to the episode’s boldness.

BELINDA TAKES CENTRE STAGE

With the Doctor out of commission for a sizeable chunk of the story, the spotlight shifts to Belinda, stranded and scared. Varada Sethu shines in what is her most vulnerable performance to date. Alone in a strange and dangerous situation, Belinda forms a bond with Cora, one of the performers and a secretly disguised Hellion. Cora's revelation—that she’s altered her appearance to avoid prejudice against her species—adds a touching layer to the episode's broader themes of identity, acceptance, and cultural suppression.

The Hellions are a persecuted race, their homeworld destroyed, and Cora's music becomes a vehicle for both rebellion and remembrance. It’s a quietly powerful story thread that gives this episode more heart than might be expected from its premise. It’s not subtle, but it’s effective—and when she belts out her final song, a stirring lament for her lost world, it lands with genuine emotional heft.

THE DOCTOR’S RAGE UNLEASHED

Meanwhile, the Doctor gets one of his most outrageous “cool moments” yet: propelling himself back into the station using a confetti cannon. It’s gloriously ridiculous, but made unexpectedly poignant by the brief return of his granddaughter Susan—played by original actress Carole Ann Ford. The surreal vision of Susan encouraging him on is a heart-warming surprise, though it ultimately leads nowhere and left many fans (understandably) speculating in vain about her role in the season’s finale.

Back on the station, the tone takes another dramatic shift. Believing Belinda has been killed, the Doctor descends into one of his most brutal fits of rage in recent memory. His relentless, near-sadistic pursuit and torture of the villainous Kid—played disappointingly flat—shows a frighteningly unrestrained side of the Doctor. It's raw and brilliantly performed by Ncuti Gatwa, echoing his wterrifying fury in Lucky Day. However, the aftermath feels strangely brushed aside. Belinda, rightly disturbed by what she sees, comments on it… and then the show moves swiftly on. It’s a wasted opportunity for deeper character exploration, especially in a season that has been teasing the Doctor’s moral complexity.

A VILLAIN WITH A CAUSE, BUT NOT MUCH CHARISMA

The antagonist, a disillusioned Hellion terrorist planning to unleash a delta wave to kill all three billion viewers, has a potentially compelling motivation: revenge against the Company for destroying his world and society's prejudice against his species. Unfortunately, the performance lacks the intensity or charisma to make the character memorable. It’s a shame, because the villain’s motivations tap into some meaty thematic territory about colonialism, exploitation, and media complicity.

The evil corporation behind the contest, producing “Poppy Honey” at the cost of planetary genocide, is an unsubtle but scathing allegory. It’s hard not to read it as a dig at Eurovision’s real-world sponsorship by Israeli company Moroccan Oil amid the ongoing Israel-Palestine conflict. It’s a bold statement embedded in a story that doesn’t shy away from moral grey areas, even if it doesn’t fully commit to exploring them.

A CELEBRATION OF EUROVISION – AND DOCTOR WHO’S LOVE OF THE CAMP AND COSMIC

Juno Dawson’s script is lovingly littered with nods to Eurovision: from the inevitable ABBA reference, to Graham Norton’s role as a savvy commentator who plays a pivotal role in revealing the Earth’s destruction on 24 May 2025. It’s a well-handled use of Norton, who is more than a cameo here, and it’s a pity Terry Wogan didn’t get a similar nod.

Musically, the episode delivers what fans might hope for: a catchy mix of Eurovision pastiche and genuine bangers. Dugga-Doo, a deliberately absurd earworm, is destined to divide fandom (it already has), but its gleeful meme-worthy energy is unmistakable. There’s a dramatic ballad early on, and the final soul-stirring elegy for the Hellion homeworld brings the house down—one of the most powerful musical moments Doctor Who has ever attempted.

And then there’s that charming gay couple in the background, constantly bickering but each contributing crucial skills to help save the day. It’s classic Who—small characters making a big difference—and a joy to watch unfold.

VISUALS, VIBES, AND A SHOCK REVEAL

Visually, the episode is a triumph. The Harmony Arena is lavish, futuristic, and vibrant, one of the best space station sets the show has produced. Combined with slick effects and bold cinematography, this is Doctor Who on a visual high.

There’s also a healthy presence from Mrs Flood, watching silently from the audience, spying on the Doctor with that ever-mysterious air. And in the post-credits sting, she takes centre stage in a jaw-dropping (but oddly flippant) moment as she bi-generates into Archie Panjabi—revealed to be the Rani. It’s a huge moment, bringing back a classic villain fans have clamoured to see return for decades, but it’s undercut by its brevity and comedic tone. Compared to the shock of Missy's reveal, or the gravitas of the Toymaker and Sutekh, this one fizzles more than it pops, though it sets the board for the finale.

THE FINAL NOTE

The episode ends on an ominous note: the cloister bell tolls and the TARDIS explodes—though why, or how, is never explained. It’s a classic Doctor Who cliffhanger: effective in the moment, frustrating in retrospect if not paid off properly.

📝VERDICT: 88/100

The Interstellar Song Contest is a glorious, messy, occasionally brilliant mashup of Eurovision sparkle and Doctor Who sci-fi. It’s part camp homage, part searing critique, part character drama—and not all of it lands. But when it works, it really works: from the horror of the airlock massacre to the heartbreak of Cora’s song, from the Doctor’s terrifying rage to the giddy weirdness of a confetti cannon space rescue.

Juno Dawson’s script is bold and messy, full of conviction and crackling with political and pop-cultural references. Ncuti Gatwa continues to impress, and Varada Sethu steps confidently into the spotlight. While some moments could’ve been deeper and the villain disappoints, this episode still manages to be a standout for sheer ambition, audacity, and audiovisual dazzle.