I Was Unprepared for the Moment

No matter how I'm feeling about its story mechanics, the new companions or even Tom Baker's question-mark infested lapels, Logopolis is always an emotional story. And no more so after this incredible rewatch. It's meant to be epic, and the excitement and dread I felt the first time I watched the story still echoes across the years (not unlike the Watcher himself).

The money shot of Logopolis has always been that moment when the Doctor emerges from the TARDIS, having escaped the Master's little recursive trap, to spy the Watcher standing by the fence on the other side of the Barnett bypass. The haunting look on Tom Baker's face and the lovely little bit of sad incidental music from Paddy Kingsland are married into one of Doctor Who's truly iconic moments. And thanks to the fall filming schedule, you can see the Doctor's breath, adding an extra layer of poignancy.

The show feels like a different program since the season eighteen debut of The Leisure Hive. The domestics between Tegan and Auntie Vanessa are light years away from the otherworldly discourse of the Doctor and Romana.

And to paraphrase Alice I try to believe 6 impossible things after imbibing a bottle of red wine:

• That you can flush out your evil nemesis by materializing your TARDIS under the Thames and opening the door.
• That the Doctor would fall for that phony Light Speed Overdrive trick; I mean couldn't the Master materialize inside the control room and THEN take the damned thing out.
• How exactly were the peoples of the universe suppose to respond to the Master? Was there a 1-800 number? Were they supposed to text STOP or UNCLE?
• Why didn't the Doctor and Tegan just allow Nyssa's rogue arm to strangle Adric. Think of all the grief that could have been avoided!
• Retroactively, was the 4th Doctor particularly fragile when he fell from that telescope? After all the 10th Doctor managed quite the impressive skydive in The End of Time.

And so the "grand tour" comes to an end after a little over 10 months later. And what a fantastic journey it's been. Appointment Doctor Who is always special and adds that extra bit of anticipation to the nostalgia. It's remarkable to experience the changes that came during the fourth Doctor's era. Between 1974 and 1981 Doctor Who changed with the world around it. Robot and Logopolis look like very different programs, with both the Doctor and Tom Baker almost unrecognizable from start to finish. Try and imagine the universe-weary soul who paces around the TARDIS cloister room, jumping rope with Harry Sullivan. It blows my mind thinking about it. Those early stories had an optimism about leaving behind the earth-bound UNIT set-up and strikingly out into the Hinchcliffe/Holmes universe.

Trying to block out viewing time each week was also a challenge. This was a solitary viewing experience and while it became essential viewing, it was just watching the same old, same old Doctor Who to my partner, family and friends. It certainly helped to open that bottle of wine every week, mind you. All good ritual must have its accoutrements. I will certainly miss wandering through the aisles of the Summerhill LCBO, marveling at the hundreds and hundreds of vintages and table wines. I always felt a rush when I found a selection that perfectly complemented a story.

And of course there is always that bittersweet feeling when doing a rewatch that I might be watching a particular story for the last time. I encourage any Doctor Who fan to take the plunge and do a sequential rewatch. Feel free to use my reflections as a jumping off point or better yet, go out and buy yourself a copy of Running Through Corridors by Toby Hadoke and Rob Shearman. Heck, when their second volume comes out I'll probably be tempted to do the whole thing over again.

Viva la 4th Doctor, may he live forever!

Original viewing date: December 31, 1984

Wine: Black Tower Dornfielder Pinot Noir

Music: "Missing You," by John Waite

Spoilers

Warning: This blog entry may contain spoilers for movies and television series that you may not have seen if you've been living in a nuclear fallout shelter the past 30 years.

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A month before Return of the Jedi came to our local theater in Comox, I bought a comic book adaptation of the movie.

Like most kids, the years between Empire and Jedi were pure torture. Endless speculation abounded about what would happen. I remember months after Empire came out, my friends and I acting out possible outcomes with our Star Wars figures. What would Jabba look like? How would they get Han back? Everybody thought Darth Vader must be lying when he told Luke he was his father. Several months before Jedi came out, Fantastic Films magazine put out an issue where they analysed what might happen next (I still have that issue -- it's the only one I kept).

My mom was with me when I bought that Jedi comic book adaptation and I placed it in her hands and instructed her not to let me have it under any circumstances. Of course she challenged the logic of even buying it in the first place, but she didn't understand kid or geek logic.

The hunt was on. Not more than a day later, I began searching the house high and low. Kudos to my Mom, she hid it well. Years of elaborate Christmas-present-hiding-fakeouts were on her side.
By I prevailed and eventually found it about a week before Jedi came to town. I would only take one little peek I told myself. A fleeting glance of Bib Fortuna was too much for me. Remorse set in and I carefully returned the comic to its hiding place.

In the end I watched Return of the Jedi spoiler free and thrilled at all the surprises and revelations. When I finally read the comic I was outraged at all the cool bits that were left out (no frame of Darth Vader with his mask off -- how could they!)

Here's the thing though, that same issue of Fantastic Films contained interviews with John Nathan Turner and Peter Davison about some weird British show called Doctor Who. Sprinkled throughout were meaningless little details that would soon come to be my first real introduction to "spoilers." First and foremost, somebody called The Master would take over someone called The Keeper and then "tussle" with the Doctor, causing the latter's death.

Think about that statement, as a Doctor Who fan, and see both the hidden momentousness of it and the flawed inaccuracies inherent in it.

Spoilers are double edged: they can ruin surprise, but the can also create anticipation. Everyone has a different tolerance for them. Some people don't want to know an episode title, others will turn the television off or run from the room before the "next time" trailer. And some will search out the back alleys of the internet to find the smallest scrap of what comes next.

Frankly, it wouldn't have made much different if I'd know the Melkur contained the Master. The character hadn't yet attained his mythical significance for me. But the spoiler imbued him with that quality. The coming of the Master represented the beginning of the end for a Doctor I cherished and loved. The omen was clear: a tussle to the death. And funny thing is, I only knew that the Master would take over the Keeper. As far as I was concerned, that was the withered old guy in the chair, and then Kassia. A little bit of info can sometimes offer a lot of fakeout. Besides the clues were pretty apparent from the get go. Readings that suggested another TARDIS, a withered figure in cloak, etc.

Mind you if I'd learned Adric was going to die, before watching Earthshock, it definitely would have lessened the shock and awe of that viewing experience.

These days I tend to avoid spoilers. The big shocker at the beginning of The Impossible Astronaut were an utter surprise, as was the ending to the The Almost People. And it was good old fashioned clues that pretty much made it obvious that River Song was the daughter of Amy and Rory. A friend, Robert, fled from the television before the next time trailer came up. My partner on the other hand has to know exactly how a story will end before he'll even watch it. He doesn't really get the idea of drama.

Curiously, I was watching Jedi several months back and I couldn't help noting that there isn't really all that much in the surprise department. There's another Death Star that predictably gets blown up at the end. You know the rebels will triumphe over the Empire and the revelation that Princess Leia is Luke's sister is a bit more yucky than any significant revelation.

Human beings struggle with the unknown constantly, and spoilers are just one little geeky line that some people draw in the Tatooine sand. As Mom used to say, "What's your hurry, it will all be over soon enough."

Original viewing date: December 24, 1984

Wine: I had two choices and I went for the less obvious one: "The Stubborn Patriarch" just looked like a better wine than "Union" and I have no regrets, no I tell you, no regrets.
Music: "Give My Regards to Broadstreet" by Paul McCartney

Love Letter to Lalla

Lalla Ward stole my heart within the first 10 minutes of Destiny of the Daleks (I remained unmoved throughout The Armageddon Factor). When Tom pulled the hat off her head, a big goofy grin spread across my face. I suppose, really I was in love with Romana II. The whimsical waif who was the calm head and constant companion to the latter-era Fourth Doctor.

City of Death was probably where I (and thousands of others) became truly smitten. Donning a school girl outfit, she is equal cosmic pixie and your best friend/fag hag from high school. In fact there was a girl, Amanda, in my drama class who looked a lot like the Time Lady. She even dressed in a similar fashion. Amanda had a wicked sense of humour and an artsy sensibility. It was a crush-by-association. Unfortunately, although we got along well, I felt more like Matthew Waterhouse in her presence; slightly awkward and never as good of an actor.

Lalla could make certain daft elements of a script sing. Taking on the "Doctor" role in The Horns of Nimon, she brought gravitas to her investigation of Crinoth that made it seem like a different story altogether. And when Christopher Bidmead decided to enlighten us with his Wikipedia entry for consonantal shift in State of Decay she actually sells it with charm and grace.

And while the scripts for Warrior's Gate seem a bit rushed in terms of her departure, there is something kind of nice about the way Romana rises to her decision on the fly. We've had hints that she was loathe to return to her previous sedate life on Gallifrey. I think it just added to the bittersweet quality of her departure. Where she donned an imitation copy of the Doctor's outfit in Destiny, here she get's her own pocket universe to champion.

Moments of Lalla's performance will always stay with me: "Yum, yum, bouillabaisse," in City of Death or that beaming smile she gives in Full Circle when the Doctor restores her to health. The way she carried off schoolgirl and Edwardian bathing outfits.

And in real life, I love the image of her accompanying Douglas Adams to the London premiere of The Empire Strikes Back. Surely any geek's dream date, gay or straight.

Alas Lalla's career never really went anywhere after Doctor Who. A few bit parts and a Shannon- Doherty length marriage to Tom Baker followed. These days she's more well known as the wife of world famous atheist Richard Dawkins. I still intend to get me an audiobook copy of The God Delusion (which she narrates) just so I can fall asleep to her lovely voice telling me to switch the lights out when I'm done with my mortal coil.

Until then, I'll look fondly back on the time when a blond-haired angel who made techno-babble sing made my hormones dance. She truly was the best Romana of all!

Original viewing date: December 17, 1984

Wine: Henry of Pelham Baco Noir, because it also makes me tingle.

Music: "On the Edge of a Dream" by Joe Cocker.

A State of Excitement

I love State of Decay beyond all reason. Terrance Dicks crashed the party that is season 18, bringing blood, peasants and lots of tasty leftovers from season 13. Where to begin? Well, Vampires camping out in a converted spaceship for starters. That's Doctor Who 101. Time Lords and bow ships. Tick. Sumptuous costumes and set design married to dim lighting.

The wasting! What the hell is that anyway? The drops of blood Camilla failed to lick off of Lalla's luscious fingers? Or is it some secret ritual associated with Aukon's man-boy-love aspirations?

There really is something slightly kinky about this whole story, which makes sense considering the undead genre and Hammer Horror under-girding. The selection is really about who is hot and who is not. So the goodies end up being a bunch of bent over old men playing with the features on their Commodore 64s. Hmm what exactly is uncle Terrance implying? Mind you, apparently Adric possesses just enough sex appeal for the lecherous Aukon to cast an eye his way. Perhaps everyone's favourite whipping boy should have kept his gold gilded scarlet get up for the rest of his travels. He could have caught the eye of Seron or the Monitor or been set up in a nice little situation with one of Lady Cranleigh's unwed uncles.

Sadly, the production does kind of let down the story at the end. The giant vampire looks like something you get for a quarter next to the gumball machines (when you really wanted the slime). I do like a nice monster melting, mind you, and this ones a doozy. "Moisturize us, moisturize us."

Thanks Uncle Terrance, for being so damned reliable. See you for the 20th anniversary!

Original viewing date: December 10, 1984

Wine: "Red Splash" a blend of everything.

Music: "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen (oh look Courtney Cox, jeez I feel old).

Behind the Curtain

Growing up, I was always catching hell from my dad for taking things apart. To be fair, my father is a brilliant mechanic who worked as an aero-engine tech for years in the Canadian Armed Forces and lovingly restored a 1967 Mustang to mint condition.

Mostly I got lectured because I never had an inclination to put the dismantled item back together again (his portable bar set, his vise grip, basically anything with screws). Thing is I quickly became disappointed with what I found -- all the mystery of the object dissipated. It's not easy to admit this. You always hear stories of scientists as children, disassembling the family lawnmower or some such thing and then going on to great fame.

Dad was always trying to get me to help him with the car or the washing machine, but it always ended with me doing the wrong thing, him yelling, me being resentful and him feeling disappointed.

Growing up is all about discovering how and why the world works. Whether you become a writer, a plumber or a safe cracker, success largely depends on how well you understand the mechanics of your craft. Many times this can mean incredible liberation. Coming to believe that religious texts are not literal can deeply enrich ones faith, or psychology and sociology classes in university can help people better understand human relationships (or annoy their mother by becoming increasingly obnoxious, as in my case).

And then there are our fantasies that don't stand up too well to reality. My friend Graeme describes Doctor Who as having an "open source" fandom. Essentially this means that it encourages fans to go beyond what's happening onscreen and appreciate the inner workings and dramatic techiniques used to create it. This lead to fans like Steven Moffat and Russell T Davies writing and producing the program. Doctor Who never had that appeal for me. It was purely a narrative experience -- I was looking for escapism.

I can only imagine the bubbles that would have been burst if my 15-year-old self had been privy to the commentary track on Full Circle. For that version of me, the story was exciting and mysterious. To hear Christopher H Bidmead and Andrew Smith talk about behind-the-scenes troubles, or Matthew Waterhouse make his little passive aggressive jibes about Lalla Ward would have been akin to learning that my father was having an affair.

Fast forward to 1999 when Graeme encouraged me to write for Enlightenment, the fanzine he started editing. It was really the first time I stepped back and began examining the inner workings of program. I was given the David Howe/Stephen James Walker tome, Doctor Who: The Television Companion, I started going to the monthly Doctor Who "tavern" get together, and, gasp, conventions. Suddenly I knew the difference between the directing style of David Maloney and Pennant Roberts. At Gallifrey, the legendary annual Doctor Who convention in LA I was privy to gossip and folklore that curled my toes.

Several years ago DWIN brought in John Leeson as its guest for a Who Party and as a contributing member I was afforded the opportunity to sip wine with him at a special gathering. He was so charming, witty, and knowledgeable: the image of him entertaining us from an armchair has stuck with me for many years. Then I began to re-experience the same stories on DVD extras and other places, told with the same cadences and flourishes and it quickly became apparent that this was a "script" he used for dealing with the public. And I completely understand that and it doesn't diminish his craft at all. But it does reinforce the inevitable gulf between fantasy and reality -- even the "reality" behind the fantasy turns out to be something of a fantasy.

While I'm not immune to some of the more lurid gossip, it's the enthusiasm of some recollections that I love the most. On the Meglos extras, watching Andrew McCulloch and John Flanagan wander around London reminiscing about their time penning Meglos is nothing short of delightful, particularly when they stop in on Christopher H Bidmead and he offers them a glass of wine. And as a bit of trivia, Aunt Vanessa's house in Logopolis was in fact the residence of McCulloch at the time.

Ultimately I can still sit back and escape into the fantasy of a starliner being invaded by marshmen without worrying too much about the logic of the script or whether Tom and Lalla were glowering at each from across a sound stage. An thankfully I now live with someone who will put anything back together after I've made a hash of it. I've truly come full circle!

Original viewing date: December 3, 1984

Spirit: An "Alzarian Blast-off" a drink of my own concoction. Take a shot of vodka, a shot of melon liqueur, with marshmallows on a skewer.

Music: "Nobody Told Me" by John Lennon.

"Gangers"

Jacqueline Hill's appearance in Meglos is a bit of an oddity in that never before or since in the program's history has a major cast member returned in a completely different role, with no reference to it made in the script and very little fanfare. And you know, I kinda like it. Lexa is nothing like Barbara, and it's a tribute to Hill that after numerous years of not acting, she's so good and so distinctive (in the DVD tribute to Hill we were treated to a clip of Hill playing mama Capulet in a 1978 television production of Romeo and Juliet and she's equally marvelous).

Ironically, Hill appears in a story where a doppelganger plays a significant part in the plot. Despite the fact that Meglos is a rather mediocre story, Tom Baker does some nice work differentiating his characterization of Meglos from that of the Doctor. Sure there are a few shouty OTT moments, but the modulation he employs with his eyes is brilliant. Meglos is hard and determined. Baker also plays the Doctor's confusion at being accused of cactus's various crimes very authentically.

And if I could heap an extra helping of irony onto my plate, Sunday morning I watched The Almost People (second part of The Rebel Flesh). The two-parter, while being a very traditional story, offered some really interesting insights into identity. With various characters duplicated to perform dangerous mining tasks, the "Gangers" originally seem to be little more than extensions of the original humans (not unlike someone being projected as a hologram). Thanks to a handy dandy solar tsunami the Gangers begin to act independently. What is left extremely ambiguous is the nature of the raw "flesh." It appears to be alive in its own right -- there are discarded Gangers who appear to be in pain (at least Jennifer maintains it is).

Doubles figure prominently in the top 10 of popular sci-fi tropes, whether used superficially as a plot point , or mined for more philosophical purposes in terms of identity ( the movie Moon, the two Will Rikers on ST: TNG or the parallel universe in Fringe) .

Doctor Who has a staggering history of dealing in doubles:

1. William Hartnell took on the role of the Abbot of Amboise (The Massacre) and along with Edmund Warwick portrayed a robot version of himself.
2. The whole TARDIS crew discovered future versions of themselves (The Space Museum)
3. Ben and Polly were duplicated by the Chameleons (The Faceless Ones)
   
4. Patrick Troughton played the baddie Salamander (Enemy of the World)
5. Spearhead from Space concerns an alien race trying duplicate various important figures with Auton doppelgangers
   
6. Nicholas Courtney, Carolyn Johns, John Levene and much of the cast of Inferno play parallel universe versions of themselves
   
7. The third Doctor and Jo briefly encounter future versions of themselves (Day of the Daleks)
8. Ian Marter stepped out as a Zygon impersonator of Harry Sullivan (Terror of the Zygons)
   
9. Tom Baker played an android copy of himself (The Android Invasion), as did John Levene, Ian Marter and Elizabeth Sladen
10. Old Reuben the lighthouse keeper was impersonated by a Rutan in Horror of Fang Rock
    
11. Mary Tamm practiced her needlepoint as the Princess Strella and her jerky-acting chops (The Androids of Tara)
12. Lalla Ward's Romana uses the Princess Astra's likeness as a template (Destiny of the Daleks)
13. The Tachyon Recreation Generator spit out a whole bunch of unstable doubles of the fourth Doctor (The Leisure Hive)
    
14. Sarah Sutton traded one sort of posh for another as Ann Talbot (Black Orchid)
    
15. Peter Davison (Omega duplicated the fifth Doctor's body in Arc of Infinity)
16. Two versions of the Brigadier from different points in time illustrate the Blinovich Limitation Effect (Mawdryn Undead)
17. Can I just say that Kamelion impersonates a bunch of people and leave it at that.
    
18. The Daleks create a variety of duplicates including dormant versions of the fifth Doctor, Tegan and Turlough, as part of machinations (Resurrection of the Daleks)
19. Sharaz Jek's duplicates of the fifth Doctor and Peri don't get to stick around long before being executed by a firing squad, and dear old Salateen's double had us all fooled (The Caves of Androzani)
    
20. The Borad created a dummy double of himself to avoid getting pasted in a very lame twist (Timelash)
21. Davros did the same thing in the next story but to much better effect (Revelation of the Daleks)
    
22. Noel Clarke plays a particularly plasticky Auton duplicate of his character Mickey Jones (Rose)
23. The Slitheen's habit of employing the skin of various full-bodied figures to create skin suit doubles (Aliens of London/World War III, Boomtown)
    
24. The ninth Doctor and Rose briefly encounter past versions of themselves (Father's Day)
25. Camille Coduri, Noel Clarke, and Shaun Dingwall all play parallel universe versions of themselves (Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel, Army of Ghosts/Doomsday)
26. Freema Agyeman empathized with her Sontaran bred clone (The Sontaran Stratagem/The Poison Sky)
27. David Tennant's Doctor grew a whole new version of himself from a severed hand (Journey's End)
28. Prisoner Zero uses unconscious humans as forms to hide from the Atraxi (The Eleventh Hour)
    

And I just don't know whether to rule on the following counts: Queen Xanxia's new holographic/corporeal body (The Pirate Planet), the Rani's ridiculous but hilarious impersonation of Mel (The Twin Dilemma), and young Amelia Pond meeting her older self (The Pandorica Opens). I'm pretty sure that Scaroth's fractured selves don't really count. And the twins in The Twin Dilemma merely doubled the bad acting quotient in that story.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go throw my cactus down the garbage chute...

Original viewing date: November 24, 1984

Spirit: A double vodka martini

Music: "Cover Me" by Bruce Springsteen

Brighton Beach Memoirs

For fans of a certain age and ilk, The Leisure Hive was a seminal viewing experience. Not so much for the story (after all it was penned by David Fisher, stalwart of the past two seasons), but for the startling changes in production and tone it brought to our favorite television series.

At 15 I watched in awe as a brand new eye-popping title sequence whizzed by on the screen as if to say, "Try and keep up, burgeoning fanboy!"

Suddenly there seemed to be a gravitas to the program. Which is odd considering the story began with an endless (pointless?) tracking shot of some beach tents capped off by a snoring Doctor. But there was a strange confidence to the scene, a slow burn to acclimatize the viewer.

Between seasons, the Doctor had apparently been visited by Tim Gunn and now donned a striking and less thrown-together outfit (complete with self-conscious question marks). Of course looking back now it was the slow steady costume-ification of the cast. But back then I loved it!

And while I wouldn't have been able to articulate it at the time, the sharp direction was definitely producing a rush. Single camera setup and ceilings! Mind you it never occurred to my adolescent mind that there was less playfulness...less fun. It's kind of how when you're a kid you don't like to be kidded because it makes you feel less grownup.

Years later, when I visited the UK I made a point of nipping down to Brighton to visit this iconic location. Sadly the old pier had long since burned down, but it didn't stop me from trying to position myself at the appropriate points on the beach. And perhaps I even fantasized that I might dig up some long forgotten screw that had dropped off the mechanical mutt. In the end I bought some fish and chips, closed my eyes and listened for ghosts.

The Leisure Hive had fallen out of vogue for me in later years; it was fashionable to mock the po-faced nature of the Bidmead year, and those shots of the earth shuttle docking went on for far too long. I'm happy to report that this week I was able to slip through time and sit down beside an excited 15-year-old acne challenged teenager for 90 minutes. There is still a majesty and confidence to the whole thing, and a real desire to stretch the boundaries of Doctor Who. Adrienne Corri is wonderfully haughty and I'm sure she and Hardin were getting it on during her jaunts to Earth (to supplement her loveless, marriage of convenience with Morix who quite obviously spent most of his time in the gay quarter of Argolis).

I can scarcely believe I've arrived at Tom Baker's final season. Time has marched by like an army of petulant Pangols! Next week it's a talking cactus and Barbara Wright with a long blond ponytail.

Original viewing date: November 24, 1984

Wine: In the spirit of the story I searched the aisles of the LCBO for something new. I found I great Australian Pinor Noir from Barwick Estates.

Music: "I'm So Excited" by the Pointer Sisters

Nobody's Weakling Scum

Confession time: when I was 15 I had the hots for Simon Gipps-Kent. Er, yes, head cheese of the weakling scum. Mr. pasty-face himself. My adolescent tastes were always a little off-beat (Meeno Peluce from Voyagers or the despised brainiac from Galactica 1980 -- no not Cousin Oliver, the other one--who actually looks great now at 42).

You see, Gipps-Kent represented that quiet boy in the back of the class that the C-crowd girls always had a crush on. Of course secretly I was one of their number (the C-crowd girls that is). He would be the sort of bloke I would fantasize about having a sleepover with where we would stay up all night and talk about geeky things and then I'd turn up the thermostat to coax him out of his pajama bottoms. Then we'd wake up early and watch Battle of the Planets over a bowl of Count Chocula.

And so I would wear out the rewind button on the Betamax to rewatch his scenes over and over again. Considering a good many of his scenes were with Lalla Ward, I didn't know whether I was coming or going. Yes, yes, being a teenager is one screwed up existence, yadda, yadda pass the Chocula.

Sadly Simon Gipps-Kent died of a morphine overdose in 1987. His last role was as Rudkin the messenger in the un-aired pilot for the original Blackadder series. Of course where I was originally a 15 year old ogling a 21 one year old who looked 15, I'm now a 42 year old who looks 35 shaking my head at a perfectly preserved ghost.

Television messes with your mind that way. Seventeenth century denizens simply didn't have to contend with this. Everyone around them sagged and got liver spots and with the possible exception of rich people having paintings of themselves that were idealized in the first place, people only had their dubious memories to rely on.

But there he is, forever stuck at 21 going on 16 for me to return to, rewatch after rewatch. My tastes have changed drastically, but it gives me some small insight into those strange middle aged women who still fawn over Davy Jones or New Kids on the Block. Somewhere between the haze of memory and the cold hard light of television lies...Simon Gipps-Kent.

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Watching The Horns of Nimon is always a bittersweet experience. Unlike many fans I love it in all its campy, cheap goodness. Romana gets to play the Doctor-y role and she presides like queen bee over a pantomime proceedings. Her moral outrage is classic Doctor. Graham Crowden is horridly over-the-top so you do have to squint a little when watching his scenes (or put some cheesecloth over the screen).

But no, what really grabs at my heartstrings is the final appearance of the diamond logo opening and classic arrangement of the title music. Despite how campy and light the series had become, that opening still gave it gravitas and history (right back to season 11 and Jon Pertwee). Of course at 15, what was to come the following week was unbelievably exciting (more on that next time), but as the years go by I am struck by the sense of loss. After all it was that classic opening that first drew my attention to the show.

Bernard Lodge's slit-scan technique is brilliant. So much so that I was rapt watching him explain it on a recent DVD featurette. Farewell, diamond logo opening, I shall miss you. Yes, I shall miss you.

Original viewing date: November 17, 1984

Wine: Dancing Bull Zinfandel! How brilliant is that.

Music: "Infatuation" by Rod Stewart. I have fond memories of watching the video at the time with a friend, as we pissed ourselves laughing. Rod Stewart stalking Key Lenz (while overfeeding his fish), but obviously more obsessed with his own body. And that ridiculous scene of him on the merry-go-round at the end looking petulant and rejected. The past is truly an embarrassing place.

And the rest...

Nightmare of Eden is the "Professor and Mary Ann" of season 17. Sort of forgotten amongst more memorable stories of the season (the Dalek retread with the wacky regeneration; the instant classic; the omigod-is-Tom Baker-giving-that-giant-green-blob-a-blowjob?; and the completely over the top story where Doctor Who went of the rails).

Funny thing is, Nightmare of Eden has a pretty decent script. It's surprisingly adult with it's central plot point that the monster of the week is in fact a life-wreaking drug. There's some clever sci-fi regarding ships being fused a la hyperspace and a great (though too brief) performance by David Daker as Captain Rigg.

Of course it also has some dreadful performances, K-9 at his most prissy, and monsters that look like refugees from HR Pufnstuf (or the Muppet show). Lewis Flanders as Tryst is the worst offender. With his faux German-ish accent, he's just doesn't have a handle on the character. We should really be fond of him as an eccentric professor, only to have the rug pulled out from under our feet when he's revealed to be a drug smuggler. I feel nothing for his character and it could have been played with many more layers. Della is bland bland bland with aspirations to blandness.

Daker is great and I really care about his character. I feel great regret when he's doused with Vrax and goes off the rails. I love how he checks out the Doctor's story, but still discerns logically that the Time Lord duo is trying tho help.

Not much more to say really. Next week I'll be in Britain and watching new Who on BBC1! My 15 year old self would be utterly agog. And it's all set on a pirate ship. Hopefully it will be more The Smugglers than Pirates of the Caribbean.

Original viewing date: November 10, 1984

Wine: Long Neck Shiraz
Music: "They Don't Know About Us" by Tracy Ullman.

Who Rewatches the Rewatcher

After much delay, amazon.ca finally delivered Running Through Corridors by Toby Hadoke and Rob Shearman. It would be no exaggeration to say that I tore right through it, figuratively speaking. It's the most addictively pedantic thing I've ever read. Rob and Toby's recollections and associations of how particular episodes/stories/moments affected them really hits home for me. As much as the creative merits of the program are important, Doctor Who is so much about memory for me; in an almost impressionistic manner. Doing this re-watch has really reinforced that for me. No two fans will hold a particular story in quite the same esteem, and eschewing popular opinion, stories like Colony in Space and The Power of Kroll will always be remembered fondly while other more lauded stories like Snakedance and the Curse of Fenric not so much.

As I began my viewing of season 17, the story I was most looking forward to was not City of Death (which I've seen innumerable times) but The Creature From the Pit -- a story which is not fondly remembered by many. But that's the lovely, irrational joy of Doctor Who. Granted much of my anticipation is due to not having seen the story in over 15 years.

But I have fond memories of Myra Francis, Eileen Way and Geoffrey Bayldon. As well as some funny dialogue and decent film work at Ealing. Watching it was like having dinner with an old friend: it's lovely to see them again, you have some amusing banter, and you're completely aware of their flaws but dismiss them because of fondness for the past.

Erato is still painfully realized, but not because it's a big blog with a phallus, but rather because close up it looks like a couple of people wrestling in a tent. Myra Francis is still gloriously camp and haughty, and Christopher Barry direction makes the whole story much more interesting than it ought to be.

Re-watching has so much to do with what mood you're in--timing is everything. I would say there are basically 3 types of re-viewing I do:

For the Love of It
Doctor Who falls firmly under this category. My normal method it to cherry pick particular stories. I'll get a hankering for some early Davison, or a hard week will have me curling up on the couch with some wine, cheese and Pertwee. Sometimes I just need a fix of bolshie Donna Noble. Other contenders in this category include: Lost, Buffy, The Avengers and The Prisoner.

Re-evaluation
Every once in a while I'll return to a show that I gave up on. Perhaps because buzz suddenly got good, or I read an intriguing review or I just plain had a change of heart. Firefly worked like that: I watched the first episode when it aired on Fox and never really grooved to it (despite the utter shock of seeing a character get kicked into a spaceship engine). A couple of years later I was invited to a viewing party and thoroughly enjoyed it. Future candidates might include: Dexter, True Blood or God forbid Quantum Leap.

Completion of a Series
A variant on the former category, these are shows/movies that I meant to continue watching but didn't. For some reason I never watched The West Wing during its original run despite rave reviews from everyone. Several years ago I was lent the first 3 seasons of the show and became completely addicted. Unfortunately, due to circumstances, I wasn't able to continue watching it. Fast forward to March of the year and thanks to Best Buy offering each season up at $15 a pop, I decided it was time to go back. I whizzed through to season 6 (after the painful experience of season 5) and despite the absence of Aaron Sorkin I'm finding the show really engaging. Other contenders: The Mary Tyler Moore Show (over the past two years I've watched the first two seasons, because I found them for a steal, but I can't justify the regular prices) and Oz (I'll probably have to go right back to the beginning--I saw the first 3 seasons-- and I just haven't been in the right space yet).

Ritual
It's Good Friday today, and I'm also rewatching Elizabeth as I've done every year on this day. I have a fascination for Elizabeth I and let me just state for the record that I am perfectly aware of how historically inaccurate Shekhur Kapur's 1998 film is. If you want a more unerring re-telling, go and rent/buy/download the excellent 1971 BBC miniseries Elizabeth R with Glenda Jackson (note to self: saw it at HMV the other day; it's now available at an affordable $24.99). Elizabeth is lurid and violent, but also epic and transformational. If you're not a Christian, this movie takes you on the same journey (a young woman is thrust into a role she's unprepared for, there is much bloodshed and it all ends in a kind of resurrection. Other rituals: It's a Wonderful Life, Scrooge, A Midwinter's Tale, Peter's Friends, Lord of the Rings (the Christmas season); The House That Dripped Blood, An American Werewolf in London (Halloween); Groundhog's Day.

Original viewing date: November 3, 1984

Wine: The same French table wine: "Ventoux" from last week. Seemed appropriate since City of Death is the jewel of season 17 and its glow shines far.

Music: "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper.

That Bouquet!

Many Doctor Who fans argue that if you show City of Death to a newbie to entice them into watching the classic series there is only one direction to go--down. While this is probably overstating the case a tad, City of Death could certain be considered the fine china you break out for company or the special restaurant you impress your in-laws with.

When I was in grade 6 our class went on a five day trip to Paris. Like so many people before me, I instantly fell in love with the city. I stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower (just like the Doctor, Romana and Duggan) gazing in awe at the city. I got lost in the Egyptian section of the Louvre. I saw Time Bandits on the Champs-Élysées. Some school mates and I walked out the wrong exit of the Galeries Lafayette department store and witnessed a street full of colourful call girls.

But most potently, I remember one warm evening, as we were being led through the streets of the city, we walked through a garden. The smell of the flowers and the dazzle of the lights made me drunk with joy. Paris indeed had a bouquet.

So in City of Death the Doctor and Romana were suddenly skipping through my own memories. Oh what bliss. And it was so clever and funny to boot. I think I may even have woken my parents up, laughing so hard when Count Scarlioni quips "My dear, nobody could be as stupid as he seems."

Honestly the entire thing is so brilliant, and Doctor Who produced it! Time cracks, and jaunts back to see Leonardo DaVinci, and John Cleese and Eleanor Bron coolly critiquing the TARDIS in an art gallery. The chemistry between Tom and Lalla. And Maya from Space: 1999 with a cigarette holder. And that sparkling dialogue: ‘...it will be so much the worse for Mister Duggan, this young lady, yourself, and several thousand other people I could mention if I happened to have the Paris telephone directory on my person.’ Douglas Adams is on fire.

And you know what? Even though when the Count is removing his human face it looks utterly naff and amateurish, the actual Jagaroth mask with the white suit looks remarkably funky and iconic.

If there is one directive I can give anyone watching this story, it's to savour it. Let time pass between viewings. When you return to it, its charms are heightened. I recall when I first got it on VHS that I kind of overdosed on it. The temptation is great. I rather wore out the rewind button on a couple of sequences.

A couple of years ago, my partner and I spent a couple of days in Paris. Let me just say that he looked at me oddly as I requested he take my picture in front of the Eiffel Tower, whereupon I turned, looked up and waved, "Bye-bye Duggan!" I suspect I wasn't the first and I certainly won't be the last. Although I don't recommend fainting in front of the Mona Lisa--they don't take too kindly to such stunts.

Original viewing date: October 27, 1984

Wine: A French table wine: "Ventoux" from the Rhône Valley.

Music: "Captain of My Heart," by Double. Okay it's a terrible song, but it was in heavy rotation at the time I watched this and there are a couple of notes at the beginning of the song that remind me of a couple of notes in Dudley Simpson's score during the final shot.

The Season 17 That Never Was

Mention Destiny of the Daleks and I will adopt a smile and a faraway wistful look. Unlike many fans, I adore Romana's utterly mad regeneration scene. It's camp and unexpected and makes no apologies to fanboys. Utterly charming, the scene always makes me laugh. And then we're treated to all that breezy banter between this new incarnation and the Doctor. It's so bloody refreshing. And yes, after episode one I progressively begin to lose patience with the actual story (well directed as it is).

I have an almost irrational love of season 17. Parts of its brilliance even appeared on screen (City of Death and bits of all the other stories patched together), but much more of it plays out in my imagination, helped out by such auxiliary reading material as Gareth Robert's An English Way of Death, The Well Mannered War and The Romance of Crime.

People love Doctor Who, because like the weather, if you don't like what you currently have, simply wait. Hence you have those who pine for season 7 Pertwee or the ever-so-brief Ben and Polly Troughton combo, or even more bizarrely the original season 23 that got scuttled for The Trial of the Time Lord.

When I was 15, life was suddenly looking up. I started taking drama in grade 10 and developed a more romantic notion of the world. I desperately wanted to change my identity and become a carefree bohemian who made witty remarks and bested all the idiots I was forced to endure in school. It didn't quite pan out that way--no matter how I wanted to be seen, as a teenager you're already pegged until graduation.

Season 17 was also a victim of its circumstances. Inflation and dwindling budgets meant some of the crappiest production values in quite some time (with the exception of John Nathan Turner's deft hording of cash for City of Death). And yet there was so much creativity too. Douglas Adams has enhanced much of Terry Nation's all too familiar story elements (or if director Ken Grieve is to believed, most of the script). I'm sorry, but I just love, "Oh look, rocks," and the bit where the Doctor is reading "Origins of the Universe" by Oolon Colluphid. As I said, it doesn't improve the plot, but it ups the entertainment value immeasurably.

In a parallel universe, season 17 lasted for 3 years and had a mid-seventies budget. In this reality, I'll just have to construct my own sweet delusion.

Original viewing date: October 20, 1984

Wine: "Fun" a rather insignificant beaujolais.

Music: "Ghostbusters" by Ray Parker, Jr.

Incoherent Ramblings About the Key to Time

After six weeks of build up, once again the Key to Time quest ends with a bit of a whimper. I keep hoping that something will change in my perspective, but it never does. On paper it sounds good: the Doctor and Romana show up on the war-torn world of Atrios amidst a devastating nuclear war with its sister planet Zeos. There's a war mongering Marshal, and a mysterious figure known as the shadow who is secretly manipulating the whole affair from behind the scenes.

I can forgive many of the story's weaknesses, just not ALL of them. Probably the biggest weakness is in the supporting characters. Merak, Astra and Shapp are terrible. The first two are non-entities that make me grind my teeth rather than have sympathy for them, while Shapp is reduced to a comedy character when really he should be an anchor in the story and a foil to the Marshal.

And while the Shadow is wonderfully creepy, whenever he uses technology the character seems diminished. I would much rather have seen the character employ more psychological torture and mind control. Those little square blocks to the neck/chin are ridiculous.

Shame the White Guardian couldn't bother to show up at the end of the story to mop up, but I guess the Doctor's moral choice to destroy the key would have become somewhat awkward in the event of that happening.

Revealing that the last segment of the Key to Time was in fact Princess Astra is a pretty cool story development though. It make so much sense that the quest should take this dark turn. Let's recap for a moment on what these pesky segments were disguised as:

1) A valuable fuel source. One has to wonder what kind of kick your space cruiser would get from popping this baby into the fuel tank. One small chunk can run an entire fleet at the best of times. What would the innate powers of the segment have added? And for that matter is jethrik environmentally friendly?

2) The core of a rocky, wet, desolate planet. Presumably no one lived on this horrid excuse for a planet. Question: so when the Daleks made it part of their "reality bomb" (in the new series story The Stolen Earth) was the segment part of the deal? I mean if Astra was reconstituted after the Doctor snaps ye olde tracer, wouldn't the planet have been too. Best to steer clear of Callufrax, the place is just trouble. Perhaps someone should put one of those warning beacons around it like they did to the Earth in Last of the Time Lords.

3) The Great Seal of Diplos. Vivian Fay, aka Cessair of Diplos, snatched this little trinket from the royal family and took off into hyper-space to initiate some serious girl power. The great seal apparently lets you transform into any form you like (whether that be Tom Baker, or the woman in sensible shoes next door) and divert your prison bus into a theoretical absurdity. Presumably it can keep your Adrienne Rich fan letters private as well.

4) A dragon at the foot of a statue. Really? Really? What, did the White Guardian decide to bugger off to a sale at Pier Imports and just sort of left that task to the Deputy White Guardian ?

5) A Swampie holy relic. Back in the old days on Delta Magna there was a group of Swampie agnostics who decided to leave the flock to create their own enlightenment. Boy were they stupid. Turns out their holy relic was the shit. May Kroll defecate on their memories. But seriously, the Doctor and Romana utterly destroyed their religion. But faith abhors a vacuum, so perhaps they'll deify Philip Madoc. "Our father who scowls in a rainstorm, hollowed be your rich velvety base voice, bring us this day of piercing stares..."
6) An emo princess in a silk nightie. Apparently the sixth segment had the power to look lovely but utter bore anyone within earshot. Did the White Guardian actually knowingly disguise the segment as a person? What an incredibly dickish thing to do! Was it his way of faking out the Black Guardian? Hey crow-head, you think you're a bad ass, you just wait and see. Oh sure, the Doctor asserts that his dove-li-ness would have immediately let her go. I'm not so sure. And what the hell did Astra see in that wet noodle Merak? Personally I thought she'd have been better off on Team Shadow.

Number of times Merak calls out "As-tra": I couldn't possibly count.
Original viewing date: October 13, 1984

Wine: Six (small) glasses of Morse Code Shiraz from Australia.
Music: "Break My Stride" by Matthew Wilder

Memoirs of a Geek Part 2

Newf was a guy my dad worked with on the (air force) base. I was watching The Power of Kroll that Sunday afternoon (videotaped from the night before) when he stopped by to shoot the shit with my father.

"Oh Doctor Who!" he exclaimed. It was the first time I'd ever met anyone who laid claim to watching the show. And he said it with such affection. While chatting with my dad, his eyes kept darting back and forth from the TV. He made a point of saying goodbye to me and told me to enjoy the good Doctor.

In retrospect Newf was exactly the sort of guy you'd find at any given convention--he was odd, and a red head who insisted on growing a wisp of a moustache. He was also extremely opinionated, shooting his mouth off over everything under sun (think cletus the slack-jawed yokel without any of the parental instincts). My dad told me later that he'd been given a medal for rushing into a burning building and rescuing two children. It seemed hard to believe because Newf struck me as an overgrown kid himself.

I have to wonder as I sit here with a glass of malbec watching a giant squid ravage half naked green men in The Fens whether this is a slightly suspect activity for a 40-plus-year-old male to be engaged in (I now have a good 15 years on old Newf). According to Paul's letter to the Corinthians 13:11 "When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." I'm guessing Paul wasn't so big on playing with Galilean actions figures.

Men are always being accused of never growing up, succumbing to so-called Peter Pan syndrome. It's similar to the way that Richard Dawkins or Christopher Hitchens accuse people who adhere to a faith tradition as being deluded or in arrested development. Mind you gay men are allowed a certain leeway in this regard, due to the unconventionality of our lifestyles. I feel like I'm cheating when I play that card though, because I lead a pretty conventional life.

The religious analogy is a good one, if you think of Doctor Who as "the text". Originally watching the program as a child or adolescent, it becomes intertwined with our unfolding understanding of the world around us. It can be the backdrop to political formation (killing the monsters can sometimes be wrong), sexual awakening (look Zoe in a catsuit or Jamie's solid legs pushing against his kilt), artistic understanding (I want to create stories like that) and one's place in the universe.

I've seen some pretty insightful stuff written in fanzines and online about the various undercurrents in the show. For my own part, I love exploring the effects that watching the program has had on me and others. Get a group of Doctor Who fans together and you can inevitably mine their memories for all kinds of fascinating stuff (particularly since so many of them are highly intelligent and creative).

Many Doctor Who fans balk at some of the sillier aspects of the new series because they want the program to be taken more seriously like say Star Trek or Lost. Lately I've heard endless speculation on how the sixth series has a darkening colour palette. Thing is, the show has always mixed childish glee with darkness. When Thawn first returns to the refinery from his jaunt to Delta Magna, he's passing out prezzies to all his work mates. Three episodes later he's gunning down one of them in cold blood. The story could probably use a little more whimsy.

Several months after watching Kroll, I started babysitting for Newf and his wife (I'll call her Wendy). She was the sweetest person you'd every want to meet, and he treated her so badly. Berating her at every turn. And yet she always kept her cool. A couple of years later, when Hawaiian shorts were in vogue she generously offered to make me a pair with a pattern she had. Let's just say that the finished product, while incredibly generous, was not something my insecure teenage self would ever be caught dead wearing. Think polka dots and billowing. One of the last times I babysat for them, I remember desperately trying to get their crying baby to settle down to bed before Mindwarp came on. KVOS had been showing The Trial of a Timelord on Saturdays at eight. I remember almost forgetting to get my money off the coffee table because I was so traumatized over Peri's horrible death.

I asked my dad about Newf and Wendy a couple of years ago. Apparently she finally left him a number of years previously. More shockingly I learned that Newf's son had murdered him and was serving a lifetime sentence for the crime. That little baby I used to diaper had stabbed him!

Funny thing is, I still look fondly at that Sunday afternoon so many years ago where I shared a moment of connection over the love of Doctor Who. Here's half naked green men and a decent South American Malbec.

Original viewing date: October 6, 1984

Wine: "Trumpeter", an Argentinian malbec.

Music: "Legs" by ZZ Top. My friend Dwayne loved this song and insisted on doing air guitar every time it came on.

Momentum Interruptus

I've always loved the first ten minutes of the Androids of Tara. Romana takes charge of the quest and locates the Key-to-Time segment with a minimum of muss or fuss. It's a nice twist on the established format. Unfortunately we then have to have an adventure. It's rather like peeking in the closet for your Christmas presents and then having to get through to the big day with almost no anticipation. The story itself is fine. Peter Jeffrey is great as Count Grendel, there's some great swashbuckling and the neat (if ultimately unnecessary) addition of the titular androids.

But it sure kills the momentum of the Key to Time arc. It's a runaround to be sure, but the script doesn't even go to the trouble of putting the revealed segment into any real jeopardy. Perhaps if its innate powers had somehow affected the plot.

It's a common problem with programs that engage in arcs but are essentially eclectic in nature. The X-Files was a prime example. You'd get a gripping arc-related story only to break the tension upon returning to the next monster-of-the-week episode (affectionately known as "bumfrak Arkansas" stories). Russell T Davies' attitude to the problem in the new series dodges the issue nicely by making the character arcs central and playing very fast and loose with the actual plot arcs. Some Bad Wolf here, some bees there and Rose popping up on vid screens for no logical reason. Of course even his character arcs could fall prey to the bum-frak syndrome as they did in season 2 with Rose being sidelined in a variety of stories, most noticeably The Girl in the Fireplace.

Conversely modern viewers have developed a bit of a mania towards story arcs in television series. An excellent stand-alone episode will often be denounced as "filler" because it doesn't advance the arc. It's as if people have reduced good storytelling to a kind of where-is-Waldo checklist. Imaginary points are to be had for those who can out-think the writers and put the pieces together. In turn, writers and show-runners resort to all kinds of gimmicks and absurd plot twists to keep so-called loyal fans appeased.

Still, there are other things to love in The Androids of Tara. I absolutely adore that purple outfit with matching hat that Romana wears, but Fisher really misses an opportunity to have more fun with it. At the very least Strella could have remarked that it was dreadfully out of fashion. The lush location work is also kinda special, given that that the production team actually had beautiful weather for once. And Tom Baker finally gets to admonish K-9 for the leisurely speed he adopts in lasering doors.

Original viewing date: September 29, 1984

Wine: Reynhart: "One of our local wines, modest, demure, but palatable." With that in mind, I picked up a Black Cab (Cabernet, Baco Noir) from the East Dell Estates in the Niagara region. While searching for my wine this week I came across one called Planet Pluto and another called Helix. How did I miss these before?! D'oh.

Music: "You Might Think I'm Crazy," by the Cars.

If I Had a Hammer Horror

Hammer Horror and Doctor Who overlap across a significant part of my brain's real estate. Both offer a slightly skewed, richly British way of looking at the world. They're populated by an unending parade of memorable, talented character actors. The biggest difference is that Doctor Who injects primarily science (or pseudo-science) at the core of its storytelling while Hammer Horror divides it's time between pseudo-science (The Curse of Frankenstein, Quatermass, etc. ) and good old-fashioned religious/Christian reasoning (Dracula, The Devil Rides On, etc.).

There is a certain colour palette that distinguishes Hammer, rich velvety reds and blues. If I close my eyes I see forests with bare leaves, luscious Victorian drawing rooms, lusty pubs and blood so red it probably has its own Pantone code. Victims are always warned ad nauseam,

One of my favourite movies from Hammer is The Devil Rides On. Curiously it stars Christopher Lee as the good guy! But even on the side of the angels, he still has a slightly sinister aspect, making the viewer glad he's on our side for once. There's a bit of early first Doctor about him--he's haughty, rude and mysterious. But most definitely not doddering. The cast is fantastic including Paul Eddington (Yes, Minister) and Charles Gray (Diamonds Are Forever, The Rocky Horror Picture Show). Like Doctor Who it revels in offbeat imagery: a goat-headed demon, a rather politically incorrect black genie with the creepiest eyes ever and several scenes that seem ripped right from The Daemons.

Once the 70s came around Hammer became increasingly campy. I loved it. Swinging sixties tropes caught up with gothic horror. Don Houghton (writer of The Mind of Evil and Inferno) brought us The Satanic Rites of Dracula and Dracula 1972. The latter comes complete with hippies and a musical number!

It was about this time that fellow horror maestro Amicus Productions also had it's heyday. Freddie Francis (director) and Jimmy Sangster (writer) both mainstays with Hammer became involved in the slightly more low-brow efforts of Amicus. The best of these were the "portmanteau" films, basically short stories linked by an overarching narrative. These were the best in my opinion. Jon Pertwee featured in The House That Dripped Blood (1970), while a pre-Doctor Who Tom Baker made an appearance in The Vault of Horror (1973). Again the crossover of British Character actors who appeared in both is significant: John Bennett, Ingrid Pitt, Geoffrey Bayldon, Maurice Denham, Michael Gough, Richard Todd, John Franklyn-Robbins, Angela Pleasence, Tom Chadbon, Erik Chitty--the list goes on and on.

Doctor Who echoed Hammer Horror most vividly during the Hinchcliffe/Holmes era with its riffs on classic horror stories (The Brain of Morbius, Planet of Evil, The Talons of Weng Chiang, et all). Like Hammer, gothic horror from that era has its own signposts: English country homes, pseudo-science masquerading as the occult and lots and lots of body horror. There is also that time honoured theme of humanity messing with forces that it shouldn't. Whether it be Professor Scarman opening the tomb of Sutekh, or Professor Sorenson hording away anti-matter, all hell breaks loose when we meddle.

The Stones of Blood was the last ship to leave the horror harbour as the storytelling began to take a turn in different directions. David Fisher's little gem is a bit of a hybrid narrative, switching gears from the horror aspects to a more humourous sci-fi bent in episodes three and four. Some folks are rather turned off by the change in tone, but really it's Doctor Who doing its thing. We had 3 years of stellar gothic horror; why not tinker with the format.

The major attraction to the story is the complete sense of irreverence it conveys. Amelia Rumford and Vivian Fay are simply smashing as the thinly veiled lesbians at the centre of circle. I don't even care that Beatrix Lehmann has an odd almost hartnell-esque quality when delivering many of her lines. She's charming nonetheless. Tom Baker's interplay with the Megara is pure season 17 and I don't care, he amuses me and that's all that matters.

Watching the Key to Time season is like going to a party hosted by someone who likes an eclectic spread. It may not be the best food I've ever tasted, but its fun, varied and I can spit the bits I don't like into a napkin.

Original viewing date: September 22, 1984

Wine: Yes, as threatened I dusted off another bottle of Ravens Wood Zinfandel. As satisfying as it was during The Image of the Fendahl. I did however have a shot of Lemoncello to keep the Ogri away.

Music: "What's Love Got to Do With It?" by Tina Turner.

Six Degrees of Doctor Who

Long before I read The Hitchhiker's Guide to Galaxy I was fan of Douglas Adams, thanks to The Pirate Planet. Doctor Who as a franchise, with its almost 50 years of history is like a friend who's really well connected. Think of it also like a reference or a letter of introduction. From Hitchhikers I went onto the Dirk Gently books and only last year I read Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion partly because of his friendship with Adams (and a little bit because he's married to my eternal crush -- Romana II Lalla Ward). I'm not quite that superficial, I was interested in the subject matter, but I must admit that it added a little incentive, a certain oomph.

Countless times I've been flipping through the channels and come across a British television show shot in that familiar way (standard multi-camera set-up interiors/exteriors on film). The Tomorrow People and Sapphire and Steel both grabbed me that way.

Recognizing a familiar Doctor Who actor (regular or guest cast) is a sure-fire way to draw me in. I first developed a taste for Amicus films because I found a DVD featuring Jon Pertwee in The House That Dripped Blood (which in turn led me to The Vault of Horror with Tom Baker). Soon I was scouring the basement of HMV for anything with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee. Which renewed my love of Hammer Horror from when I was a kid.

I once made a list of all the Doctor Who related actors that appeared in I, Claudius -- I believe I came close to 50. And they were from all eras of the show: Stratford Johns (Four to Doomsday), Kevin Stoney (The Dalek Masterplan/The Invasion/Revenge of the Cybermen) Derek Jacobi (Utopia), and Patricia Quinn (Dragonfire) and on and on. And of course it was said Mr. Johns who led to my fascination with the old British series Z-Cars.

Mark Eden and Derren Nesbitt who appeared together in the first Doctor serial Marco Polo both coincidentally appeared together in The Prisoner episode "It's Your Funeral". The Prisoner is one my other all-time favorite shows on its own merits, but definitely ranks high because of the same British-ness that Doctor Who oozes. And on a Sunday morning you will definitely find me often worshiping at the alter of Coronation Street, a mainstay on CBC television, but not something I ever watched until I recognized Helen Worth (Colony in Space) one week during university. All it took was five seconds of lingering to be pulled in to the absorbing comings and goings of "The Street".

Probably the most significant Doctor Who introduction I've had of late is my new-found affection for Agatha Christie mysteries. I ashamed to confess that I'd never cracked a spine of one of these ubiquitous inhabitants of summer cottages and musty Value Village shelves (most people I know left them behind in adolescence). Thanks to Gareth Robert's new series story The Unicorn and the Wasp I've been making up for lost time.

Oh course there's also that category I like to call, "Doctor Who made me do it". Questionable things I did or watched because of my love of the show. With no further delay, here are my top 10 things "Doctor Who made me do:

10) Watched The Secret Smile, a lurid little ITV drama that cast David Tennant as an evil stalker. This I watched right before his debut as the 10th Doctor. It took months to erase the image of him as a creepy destroyer of lives.

9) Stopped eating after 7 and returned to the Y (following a month hiatus) as a result of lusting after Matt Smith's slim 27 year old towel-clad body in The Lodger. Who was I kidding.

8) Spent two nights in Cardiff, one of the most boring cities in the UK, just to frequent such exciting Doctor Who locations as a deserted waterfront and a non-descript shopping mall.

7) Developed a massive crush on a girl in grade 10 who reminded me of Lalla Ward.

6) Struggled with the entirety of Escape Velocity, just so I could finish the BBC books' trapped-on-Earth arc. (Okay, I lie, I skipped to the last 20 pages to see how it finished up).

5) Sat through 90% of Torchwood season 1 and 75% of season 2.

4) Skipped out of the after party of my high school graduation to watch The Dalek of Invasion of Earth. Ouch, that one feels particularly pathetic.

3) Killed innumerable trees making endless Doctor-Who-related lists.

2) Attended a rather tedious production of Arsenic and Old Lace in Canterbury, which starred Louise Jameson as one of the old biddies. You know you're getting old when...

1) Two words: Gorgonzola cheese. Blech!

But God do I still love The Pirate Planet after all these years. Every time I hear the Captain complain about "zombie Mentiads and interfering Doctors" I get giddy. The poor old fellow just wants to be left alone to rape unsuspecting planets of all their mineral wealth and collect the leftovers in tubes like footballs -- why is everyone getting in his face. Take away all the Adams trappings and dialogue and you have a pretty conventional plot (City of Death is the same). Doesn't matter in the least, because like Russell T Davies he's just throwing stuff against the wall to see what will stick or like Steven Moffat he revels in recycling ideas into whatever new form takes his fancy (like say Dirk Gently).

Original viewing date: September 15, 1984

Spirit: Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum

Music: "We Belong" by Pat Benatar

A Shot in the Arm

Every year I debate whether or not to get a flu shot, and then winter passes by and no skin has been broken. Fear of needles plays no part, and I understand the science behind it. I have no deep-seeded phobia, or high minded politics. It's apathy really. I just never get around it.

Fever and fatigue are the two nasty little indicators of the flu and this weekend they came knocking with a vengeance. I've been known to wash great piles of dishes during a cold bout, but I can barely raise the remote control this time around. So it is that I settle down with a large glass of orange juice (liberally spiked with Russian vodka) and a hefty roll of toilet paper to watch The Ribos Operation.

The opening credits make me dizzy, so I lay my head to the pillow and wait for the blast of bright light as the White Guardian appears on the scene. When I was 14, the Key to Time season was a major cause for excitement. After drifting away from Doctor Who for several months, I discovered it back on KVOS 12's schedule at midnight on Saturday night. And so began my mythical awakening as devoted fan.

The problem with drinking spiked orange juice through a straw is....well you get that burst of vodka right to the brain. Appropriate as the camera pans up on Romana. It may have been broadcast in 1978, but this icy Time Lady fits right into the 1980s of Joan Collins and Linda Evans.

The Ribos Operation is what I call "lean in and listen carefully" Doctor Who. (I should note that the current television convention of creating complex story arcs laced with clues and viewer loyalty nods is not at all the same thing). This story is all about the pleasures of a witty, cleverly drawn Robert Holmes script. They had me when the White Guardian informed the Doctor that "nothing" would ever happen to him if he didn't take on the quest for the Key to Time. Smart and playful dialogue is the nectar of the gods (which I guess would make the likes of Aaron Sorkin an Archangel). George Spenton-Foster, for his part, stays mostly out of the way allowing Paul Seed to be shouty to his heart's desire (and no offense to him as he seems to have a great sense of humour about it in the accompanying DVD featurette), and the set designer to raid the recent BBC production of Anna Karenina. Unfortunately Spenton-Foster leaves the camera running too long on the Shrivenzale.

Garron and Unstoffe--bloody brilliant! And bless you Binro, I always tear up when you learn you were right. And the Seeker, oh what a worthy addition to the pantheon of loony Doctor Who hags. In my somewhat feverish delirium, I begin to speculate on crossover fan fiction involving the marriage of the Seeker and Richardson (he of the mystical deer antler in the picture above) from the HBO show Deadwood. He would follow her around like a puppy dog, while she would bellow about lost car keys and together they'll start a new age antler cult.

Outside it's snowing unrelentingly (it's been a hellishly long winter), but inside I revel over the joys of onscreen winter and snow. Even when it's polystyrene, I have a bit of a fetish watching people freeze off their tits off (Dr. Zhivago is my favourite film of all time). Oh wait, I love this part: the Doctor, Romana and Garron are all leaning into each other in a rock crevasse. It's so camp and I never get tired of it.

And then as my eyelids start to get heavy, it's time to watch the jethrik transformed into the first segment of the Key to Time. I love gimmicky gadgets and I always loved the sense of accomplishment as they raised it up to behold it's shiny plastic-y-ness. Doctor Who with purpose. We were on our way. To the toilet for the time being...

Original viewing date: September 8, 1984

Spirit: Russian Vodka with orange juice (by my reckoning that's a screwdriver to the eye).

Music: "Sunglasses at Night" by Corey Hart.