Time
to write about Doctor Who.
I
had been planning to solicit for Guest Posts about Doctor Who for
quite some time. There are many reasons for me to do Guest Posts on
Needless Things:
- It gives those who might not otherwise have an outlet for their stories a place to share; I don’t need credentials or anything. I like to post anything from anybody. From folks who have had movies made from scripts they’ve written to people who haven’t written anything since high school. I want this to be an outlet for anybody.
- I’m always interested to see the responses I get. Not just what is written, but who responds. I’m not gonna lie – it’s a bit of an ego stroke to know that people are writing something for this little site I started.
- It is very slightly less labor-intensive to edit and publish other people’s work than it is to write something myself. It gives me a sort of break. And after October, I really needed November to be less intense.
So
I knew I would be posting a number of Doctor Who toy reviews and
several works from different fans and Whovians. I haven’t reviewed
all of the submissions yet, but I am already excited beyond words
about what Needless Things has in store for you over the next two
weeks. There are some thoughtful retrospectives, examinations of the
franchise, an exciting piece about the world of Doctor Who beyond
television, and one entry that quite literally moved me to tears. But
obviously I would have to provide the introductory post myself. I
mean, this is my site, after all.
That
meant it was time to write about Doctor Who.
Again.
And
that probably isn’t everything because I kind of suck at tagging.
Plus,
I’m just plain exhausted. If you look back at past Novembers here
on Needless Things, you can see it is not exactly my most creative or
productive month. But I love Doctor Who and this is the Fiftieth
Anniversary and I’ll be damned if I can’t find something exciting
and new to write.
I
have spoken of and written about my history with Doctor Who many
times. But always in bits and pieces, when a reference was called for
or as part of an anecdote. I don’t think I’ve ever fully outlined
my personal history with the franchise. As you’ll see, I was not
the dedicated stalwart that many were – including some of our
Whoniversary Guest Posters – but I always carried it with me.
Next
Saturday may be the fiftieth Anniversary of Doctor Who, but it is my
thirtieth – to the day.
I
first experienced the magic of Doctor Who on November 23, 1983. I was
7 years old and my family was in North Carolina at my Auntie’s
house for Thanksgiving. We had eaten our early dinner and I –
having no more tolerance for grown-ups then than I do now – retired
to the guest room to watch television.
Side
Note: I don’t know why we were eating on Wednesday instead of
Thursday. We might have done one meal at Auntie’s and another the
next day at Granny and Papaw’s. My family likes to eat.
I
remember that room vividly – a huge, four-poster bed with a
cushioned chest at the foot. A beautiful chest-of-drawers that was
just high enough off the carpet to serve as the base for whatever
action figures I had with me. I’m pretty sure it was Star Wars, as
GI Joe wouldn’t have quite taken full root with me yet. There was a
digital alarm clock with red numerals – something I hadn’t seen
before that struck me as oddly sinister (since then I’ve had a
preference for red displays). I played for a little while, but
eventually decided I needed companionship in the form of what to this
day serves as one of my favorite friends – the television.
I
pulled out the little silver knob on what was probably a 16” set
and watched the dark screen pop to life. This was before the days of
widespread cable, so I only had maybe six or eight channel options –
NBC, ABC, CBS, some UHF stations, and of course the old standby –
PBS. I don’t really recall flipping the channels or anything. I
just remember being absolutely captivated by the sight of a silver
haired man in a fancy jacket with a cute girl. It wasn’t this
couple so much that got my attention. It was the fact that they were
hiding behind a rock, observing a silver being that I was immediately
terrified of.
This
silver alien was in front of a cave and had an arsenal of weapons
laid out beside it. It moved in a strange, almost reptilian way and
was clearly looking for prey. It would move and then disappear, only
to reappear in a different place. I was tense and wide-eyed with fear
because all it had to do was reappear on the other side of that rock
and it would see those poor people.
Side
Note: The Doctor identified this as the Raston Warrior Robot, a
designation I still have trouble remembering. I didn’t know who the
Doctor was at the time, he just seemed to have some sort of
authority. And a nice jacket.
And
then the other, scarier robots showed up.
This
was a group of more traditional and yet more frightening robots. With
their larger frames, lumbering gait, and wide, vacant faces that
parodied humanity these robots thoroughly unnerved me. The only
reason I didn’t reach up to change the channel is that I didn’t
want to get close to the monsters on the screen. I was absolutely
terrified of these things the silver haired man called “Cybermen”,
and that was before I even knew how truly horrifying they were.
And
then the smaller, silver droid eliminated the Cybermen one by one as
though they were nothing.
There
was obviously a lot more to the amazing story that unfolded on that
simple old television, but that scene with the Doctor and Sarah Jane
hiding from a bunch of evil robots (yes, I know – one robot and a
group of cyborgs) burned itself into my psyche. It remains to this
day one of those unforgettable snippets of time – alongside a
grizzled old Batman’s armored fist smashing into Superman’s jaw,
Luke Skywalker catching that verdant lightsaber and flipping into the
air, and Freddy Krueger emerging from Jesse’s chest as a genre
moment that would define my fandom. I did not know what I had just
seen, but it had impacted me in a primal way.
At
some point during the rest of “The Five Doctors” I ran out into
the living room to grab my mother. I dragged her to the back room and
pointed to the screen, asking her what movie this was. She had no
idea. Being the good and kind woman she was, she brought the rest of
the family back, but nobody knew. Uncle Tiny noted it was on PBS and
dismissed it as “some Brit crap”. They all went back to talking
about shoes or politics or whatever mundane junk adults talk about. I
remained in the back room and watched this amazing feature, right up
to the finale where Borusa meets his horrifying fate. I still get
chills every time I see that scene.
And
that was it. I didn’t know what I had just seen. I didn’t
understands that it was part of a greater story. I honestly can’t
remember what more I made of it other than the visceral, gut
reactions I had to each scene. It’s so strange to think that this
was the same year that I saw Return
of the Jedi
in the theater. I have to assume I comprehended that on some level,
but “The Five Doctors” was a genre gut punch that would stay with
me for years.
I
don’t know exactly when I rediscovered Doctor
Who. I
am still in search of somebody that could provide the schedule for
the Metro Atlanta PBS station from the mid-80s so I can figure it
out. But I know two things – the next Doctor
Who I
saw was “Terror of the Zygons” and I was 9 or 10 years old.
I
was heavy into cryptozoology when I was a kid. The Goat Man, Moth
Man, Bigfoot – you name the creature and I was both fascinated and
terrified by it. But my all-time favorite was the Loch Ness Monster;
Nessie. There was something slightly more tangible about that
creature. The whole idea of Nessie just seemed slightly more within
the realm of possibility than a half-man, half-goat terrorizing rural
travelers or even a massive humanoid ape wandering around the
Appalachians (not that I still wasn’t terrified of the back roads
that Dad would take to North Carolina when we drove at night or of
the dense woods surrounding the camp we stayed at when I was a Boy
Scout). Plus, I have always had an affinity for the lands of Great
Britain, so this Scottish dinosaur appealed to me. Plus, it was
hardly any kind of physical threat, what with being all the way
across the world.
And
then, late one Saturday night I stumbled across ol’ Nessie
terrorizing somebody on a dark, foggy night. Much like “The Five
Doctors” I can’t recall specifics of that first “Terror of the
Zygons” viewing. I remember Nessie’s head sort of staggering
around the screen. I remember the larger-than-life man with the curly
hair and the tartan scarf and hat. I remember the aliens watching
everybody through the eyes of the deer and how thoroughly
uncomfortable they and their technology made me. I still find
organic-based technology to be unsettling – it’s why I found the
Yuuzhan Vong of the Star Wars “New Jedi Order” books to be so
effective and menacing. This was another genre gut punch.
And
I had no idea it was related to the one I had experienced a few years
earlier.
You
see, Tom Baker’s presence in “The Five Doctors” was minimal. He
didn’t even register to me, what with the Bond-like presence of Jon
Pertwee and Peter Davison’s gentle urgency. And the TARDIS has an
equally minimal presence in “Zygons”. Even if I had remembered
“The Five Doctors” more clearly, I don’t know that what is now
such an iconic device would have registered from the brief appearance
at the tail end of the story. But when that end came I knew that I
loved what I had seen. The following Saturday night I tuned back in
to PBS and watched “Planet of Evil” and for the next several
years I would do whatever I had to in order to be in front of a
television at 10 or 11 PM on the last night of the week.
Side
Note: I can’t recall when Doctor
Who
actually aired, but I do know that it was paired up with The
Prisoner
either before or after. I think before because it took me a whole to
appreciate the other show and I don’t think I would’ve stuck
around after Doctor
Who
for a show I wasn’t crazy about. Plus, there was USA
Up All Night
and some late night wrestling show. So I think my Saturday night
schedule somewhat resembled this:
10
PM – The
Prisoner
11
PM – Doctor
Who
12:30
PM – Whatever was left of Up
All Night
(first with Gilbert Gottfried, then Wanda Shears)
2
AM – The wrestling recap show
I
don’t know how accurate any of that really is, I just know I was
always in trouble when it was time to get up for Sunday School and
church in the morning.
Side
Side Note: The remake of The
Prisoner
a few years ago was absolutely terrible.
It’s
worth noting – but not Side Noting – that my PBS station aired
these Doctor
Who
stories as (typically) 90 minute movies. The individual episodes were
edited together and the reused footage at the beginnings was cut out.
I didn’t even know until ten or so years ago that the show had
originally aired as half-hour episodes. But I’ll get to my
re-acquaintance with Doctor Who in a bit. We’re only two thousand
words in and I’ve a long ways to go.
I’ve
talked about all of the following before, so I’ll sort of skim past
them now.
I
was heartbroken when Tom Baker regenerated into Peter Davison. This
was pre-internet and pre-pretty much any kind of media-related news
for me, so it was a complete surprise that destroyed me. And yet I am
so glad that I was able to experience it in such a pure and unspoiled
manner. Not even the Brits that saw it happen for the first time
years before were able to enjoy as real and base a reaction as I was.
Not only was I unprepared for the sudden exit of My beloved Doctor, I
knew nothing of regeneration or the history of the show. Witnessing
that was one of the most shocking moments I have ever experienced
through dramatic television.
I
believe it was sometime during Peter Davison’s run that the BBC
toured the States with the Doctor Who Experience. I’ve written about this before,
but I was lucky enough to attend and got to tour the big trailer full
of monsters and costumes. I just regret not taking any pictures. But
I was ten or eleven and not prone to think about such things.
I
hung in there with Peter, mostly because I liked his companions and
because deep inside I believed My Doctor had
to be
coming back. I feel like PBS skipped over some of Davison’s
episodes or perhaps sometimes I just tuned into Saturday Night Live
instead of watching Not My Doctor. But there are quite a few Davison
stories that I remember once I see them. Right around the time I
started to get invested in the show again, the new Doctor died saving
his companion – a brunette that was kind of shrieky but that for
some reason made my pants uncomfortable – and we got the visual and
emotional disaster that was Colin Baker.
I
immediately disliked Colin. I stuck around for a couple of episodes,
but basically quit watching for a while. I don’t know what made me
tune back in, but PBS based one of their trademark telethons around a
marathon showing of Colin Baker’s epic swan song, “Trial of A
Time Lord”.
I
know this story (or these stories, as the case may be) catch a lot of
flak from some folks, but to me, at the time, this was more of pure
Doctor Who lightning in a bottle. Like “The Five Doctors” (which
I had by now connected to this show that I loved so much) and “Terror
of the Zygons” before it, “Trial” made a mark on my nerdy soul.
I stuck around into the wee hours of the morning to find out what was
going to happen to the Doctor. It was a wild and – to me at the
time – almost incomprehensible tale, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Also, my mother firmly refused to donate fifty bucks to PBS so that I
could be the proud owner of a BBC-licensed Doctor Who tote bag.
So
in what any Whovian would recognize as an utterly bizarre and
inexplicable turn of events, “Trial of A Time Lord” lured me back
into Doctor
Who. I
tuned in the next week and witnessed yet another landmark event –
Colin Baker (or so I thought) transformed into the second man that I
was able to fully and truly embrace as the Doctor – Sylvester
McCoy.
“Time
and the Rani” is another story that isn’t exactly popular, but I
loved it. The Tetraps were creepy and looked pretty good for the
time, the setting seemed alien, and this new Doctor was charming and
theatrical. His physical style and heavily-accented delivery charmed
me instantly. I followed McCoy’s run closely, but either PBS
skipped some stories or I missed them for one reason or another. But
I definitely made a point to tune in whenever I could.
I
remember “Survival” very clearly. I rewatched it a few years ago
– and wrote areview
– and every moment was quite familiar. And just like “Logopolis”
a few years before, I had no idea that I was witnessing the end of an
era. The story ended in an odd but fairly inconspicuous way – with
the Doctor and his comely companion, Ace, walking off into the
distance. It wasn’t exactly dematerializing in the TARDIS, but it
didn’t strike me as odd. I tuned in the following week to see where
the pair would end up next. Instead, I bore witness to the silver
haired dandy from “The Five Doctors” battling cave worms for what
seemed like ten hours.
Okay,
that might be a bit of a harsh assessment of “The Green Death”
and of Doctor Three, but my adolescent mind simply wasn’t ready to
accept and appreciate the majesty and wit of the powerful Jon Pertwee
(I finally did about three years ago and he is now in a perpetual
three-way tie for a spot as my second favorite Doctor).
I
don’t know how I found out that Doctor
Who was
over. But I do remember at some point recognizing that “Survival”
was the last new episode I would see. For whatever reason PBS had
chosen to go back to Pertwee’s run rather than Hartnell or Tom
Baker (both of which would make sense; though I know Hartnell would
have fared no better with me than Pertwee did). Eventually I switched
to Saturday
Night Live
or whatever other alternative might have been available.
For
me, my beloved Doctor
Who was
on hiatus.
Then
in 1996, two years after I graduated high school, there was news of
an unimaginable magnitude – FOX was producing an American Doctor
Who
movie. It had been years since I had actually watched any Doctor
Who,
but this excited me beyond belief. I was twenty years old, but still
wasn’t cynical about entertainment. It didn’t occur to me to be
suspicious of an American-produced Who.
This was huge news. I wouldn’t swear to this, but I don’t think I
was as excited when Episode
I was
announced. Of course, that might be because I always felt, deep down,
that we would get more Star
Wars. I
never expected more Doctor
Who.
Also, my excitement for resurrections might have been tempered by…
well, by the 1996 Doctor
Who.
We
reviewed it on Earth Station Who,
but my initial reaction was... well, actually it was excitement.
Because when the Doctor came on screen, it was Sylvester McCoy! The
legit Doctor!
I
should stop to explain something here. Unlike many nerds, I am not
particularly internet savvy. I just missed computers being fully
integrated into the school system and it was probably 2001 before I
had my own PC. Actually, it might have been 2002, because I met Bruce
Campbell and had him sign my Army of Darkness tattoo in September of
2001 and was too embarrassed to tell him that I did not have an
e-mail address when he asked me to send him a picture after I got the
signature tattooed on. I still
haven’t sent that picture.
So
my point here is that until 2002 (or so) I had no idea what was going
on in the portions of Earth that were not within twenty or so miles
of me. And in 1996 I certainly didn’t know anything that was going
on with the Doctor
Who TV
movie other than that it was happening. And to this day I still am
not as abreast of things as I could be. I have figured out that
pretty much everybody spends their work day on the internet. I don’t
have the internet at work and other than posting on Needless Things
and watching the occasional Parry Gripp video with the family I
simply don’t like wasting time on the computer at home. I have so
many other ways to waste time.
So
to bring it back around, I was surprised and delighted when Sylvester
McCoy showed up on my screen and disappointed when he got himself
shot like an idiot. I liked Paul McGann’s portrayal – though I
was rightfully dubious of this half human nonsense – and thought
just enough of the movie to want more. I don’t know why, but I know
I had it in my head that there would be more. To the point where I
had that same revelation that had come years earlier after “Survival”
– “Well, damn – I guess that’s it.”
And
so life went on; once again with no Doctor
Who. I
was not an active fan, but I never forgot the impact of the show.
Sometime
later in ’98 or ’99 I was working at Suncoast – if you don’t
know, a store that sold VHS, DVD, and all manner of movie-related
crap. We stocked Doctor
Who VHS
tapes. I looked at them every day. I don’t remember all of the
titles. There were maybe ten or so. And they were between twenty-five
and thirty bucks. A price point I simply could not afford. So I just
looked at them, wishing I could buy every one but also wondering if I
would still love the show like I did when I was a kid. After all, I
had recently revisited
***WARNING***
The following paragraph may cause some Needless Things readers to question my nerd cred, question my Child of the 80s cred, or even outright dislike me and want to spit in my face. Do not read on if you can’t handle opinions.
After
all I had recently revisited The
Goonies
and had not enjoyed it at all. And that was a big-budget, well-loved
movie. How could my modest little British sci-fi show possibly hold
up under modern scrutiny?
***END
OF SENSITIVE MATERIAL***
But
then we got in a copy of “The Five Doctors” priced at $19.99. It
was still more than I cared to pay for a movie, but I just couldn’t
take it anymore. I needed
some Doctor
Who in
my life. I sprang for the tape at the end of my shift, took it home,
and popped it into the VCR.
It
was magic. Even though I hadn’t seen it in around fifteen years, I
remembered every scene; every beat. Despite that, I was utterly
shocked to realize that Tom Baker was not technically in the story at
all. I remembered everything that happened; I had just forgotten what
was omitted because when I saw it that first time I didn’t know
he was omitted.
It
would be super to be able to say that my fandom overwhelmed my wallet
and I started buying tapes and watching Doctor
Who and
became a rabid fan all over again. But I didn’t. I still couldn’t
justify the money. So I just watched “The Five Doctors”. A lot.
Side
Note: From the time I started watching Doctor
Who
regularly in 1986-ish up through the relaunch in 2005 I have always
had toys on my mind (obviously). Regardless of the state or intensity
of my fandom, I always
wanted Doctor Who toys. I don’t remember exactly when I became
aware of the existence of the British releases from Dapol, but I
wanted them so badly it hurt. Especially their crappy, scarfless Tom
Baker. But all I ever saw in all of my toy store travels was the
occasional lonely Mel figure warming a random peg here or there. Now,
of course, not only do I own a ridiculous number of the modern
releases from Character Options/Underground Toys; I also have a
number of the Dapol figures thanks to the awesome and amazing Billy’s toys.
I
hate to admit this, but I cannot recall how I learned about the
revival. I can’t imagine that I didn’t know about it before
seeing an ad on the Sci-Fi Channel. But I’m just not sure. I got
married and started my current (horrible) job that year, so adding
the Doctor’s return to that list was just too much. But me and Mrs.
Troublemaker were sitting there watching when “Rose” made its US
debut.
The
missus wasn’t the same level of fan I was, but had watched the show
as a kid and remembered it fondly enough. She was open to a new
series. We watched that first episode with the manic and sharp new
Doctor and the cute and likeable Rose Tyler. The Autons creeped us
out (I didn’t know what they were. I had never seen those stories.
BACK OFF – I told you – I was never internet boy) and the pacing
was fantastic. We were hooked, and more importantly I was relieved.
While I had been disappointed somewhat by the 1996 movie, I could
tell that this new iteration was coming from a different place. I
didn’t know if it would last (HA!), but it seemed to me that its
hearts were in the right place.
Shortly
after the debut my parents made a trip to the UK. My mother – still
sweet and considerate – asked each of us if they could bring
anything back. I told her anything Doctor Who. She came back with the
very best gift I have ever received – a bank shaped like the
TARDIS. But this was no cheap-o PVC bank. No sir – this was a
full-on toy
with lights and sounds and opening doors and everything. IT was
awesome and I was blown away. And not only did she bring that TARDIS
back, she also b got me a figure of the Doctor!:
Wait
– who the crap was this nerd? That’s not the bold and slightly
dangerous-looking bloke from the new series. Nor is it any of the
classic 7 (sadly Paul McGann was not yet firmly entrenched into
continuity in my mind). Somehow the news that Christopher Eccleston
had only lasted one season had managed to escape me. This was another
new Doctor. A nerdy one. I found out one way or another that this was
David Tennant and that he was replacing Eccleston because apparently
Eccleston was a bit of a poopy pants about the whole thing.
Me
and the missus were both heartbroken to see Doctor Nine go. I liked
him an awful lot and I do believe he is Her Doctor. But then Tennant
came along and swept us off our feet just like he did everybody else.
And
I suppose that’s as far as I needed to go. I feel like my
relationship with modern Who has been well documented both here and
on Earth
Station Who,
I’ve hit 4,500 words, and it’s late at night and my typing is
getting worse than it normally is (which is pretty bad).
Thirty
years ago I turned on the television and was transported to the far
away world of Gallifrey. It was populated by soldiers, pretty ladies,
monsters, robots, evil men, and four adventurers called Doctor. I did
not know what I was watching, but the fun, creativity, and sheer
madness of the story burned it into my heart for all time. Even if I
had never seen another Doctor
Who
story, those memories of “The Five Doctors” and the promise of
that magical universe would still be with me. Fortunately the Doctor
and all of his friends and enemies have stayed with me throughout my
life, bringing me a pure joy that no other franchise can match.
I
don’t know what “The Day of the Doctor” has in store for us on
November 23rd
– thirty years to the day after I first met the Doctor – but I do
know that beyond it lies fifty more years of Doctor Who and its
incomparable fandom.
The
next two weeks here on Needless Things will be dedicated to Doctor
Who. I have Guest Posts, Toy Reviews, and more on the way. The site
will be jam-packed – relatively – with content. Please share
these links wherever you can and spread the word. And if you’re so
inclined, throw a few dollars at the Needless Things family. I have to send you to the podcast homepage because Blogger doesn't want this sort of thing. Just check out the widget on the bottom right here.This is
all out of pocket for me, so anything I receive during this time will
got to site costs, hosting, and possibly new merchandise if I get
really ambitious.
Also,
you can buy the Limited Edition NeedlessThingsSite.com Luchador vs.
Owlbear t-shirts here.
I can’t say they’re selling fast, but once this style is gone,
they’re gone forever.
And I do intend on being famous one day, so wouldn’t it be cool to
have the first shirt I ever designed?
Remember
to check in every weekday between now and the 23rd
for new, original content.
Finally,
be sure and come out to the HUGE 50th
Anniversary Party that TimeGate, Earth Station Who, the folks behind
The
Forgotten Doctor,
and (others) are throwing at the Holiday Inn Select; the same
location where TimeGate is held each and every year. There will be
panels, games, Whovian carousing, and a LIVE recording of Earth
Station Who immediately after “The Day of the Doctor” airs. You
will literally never have another opportunity to attend a party like
this!
-Phantom
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