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.