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.