The politics of Pertwee

This week, I’m presenting a paper at the Alien Nation conference at Northumbria University. I’ve been alternately excited and nervous about this, but now that I’ve got my paper written and my Powerpoint presentation sorted out, I’m really looking forward to it! (you can read about my paper here)

The programme of speakers is great, and I’m looking forward to meeting some academics face-to-face who I’ve previously only chatted to on Twitter! If you’re interested in science-fiction and telefantasy, Cathode Ray Tube is live blogging the event.

My friend Paul very kindly did some screen captures for me yesterday, and I’m so pleased with them I thought I would reproduce a few here. Think of it as a trailer for my paper!

Inferno

The Curse of Peladon

The Green Death

Alien Nation conference

Following on from yesterday’s post, here are some more details of the Alien Nation conference I’m speaking at in July. I’m really excited about it – the panels are interesting and varied, there’s a lot of academics attending that I’m excited to meet, and there’s a screening of Ghostwatch in the evening! I’ve heard that Newcastle is a lovely place too, so I’m looking forward to exploring it in my free time. I’ve reproduced my abstract below the poster, to give you an idea of what I’ll be discussing…

‘Having a conversation with Tse-Tung’: the politics of Pertwee

The Barry Letts-produced era of Doctor Who (1970-74) is commonly regarded as the most politically committed of the show’s history, using the Doctor’s exile on Earth to address contemporary social and environmental concerns. James Chapman has suggested that, in this period, ‘Doctor Who was at its most critical of British society’.

By looking at moments from Inferno, The Curse of Peladon and The Green Death, I ask how each serial articulates political thought, and with what success. I am particularly interested in the shifts that occur in the representation of regular characters (the Doctor, his companions, the UNIT family, the Master), and their relation to the recurring archetypes of this era (regional bumpkins, military personnel and civil servants). How do humour, allegory and stereotype contribute to the show’s political vocabulary? And, given the multi-story format of Doctor Who, how coherent a political statement can we expect from any given era of its history?

My paper proposes that the detail of textual moments in Doctor Who can illuminate, and complicate, political readings of the programme as a whole.

Inside the TARDIS: Doctor Who Experience

For my birthday, Roisin took me to the Doctor Who Experience!

We encountered Daleks, Cybermen,  Zygons, Sontarans, Ice Warriors, a Giant  Robot and, of course, Davros!

The walk-through element takes you through a crack in time onto the bridge of Starship UK. From there, a specially filmed segment with Matt Smith’s Doctor sends you on an exciting (and sometimes scary) adventure. Smith’s excitable, charming performance had me grinning from ear to ear.

Stepping through the doors into the TARDIS console room is a magical moment. It really is bigger on the inside, and the floor shakes beneath your feet as you take off. At this point, I’d completely forgotten about the city outside!

If you’ve ever wanted to hurry down a darkened corridor past Weeping Angels or to stand on the bridge of a Dalek spaceship, this is the place for you! I’ll post some more photos tomorrow…

Happy Birthday Doctor Who!

If you’d been scanning the Radio Times on the 23rd November 1963, you might have noticed this item:

It’s difficult to imagine how strange this programme must have seemed on its first broadcast. While Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass had paved the way for science-fiction broadcasting, those serials insisted on a knowable reality, a quantifiable world that could be righted.

What’s notable about the first years of Doctor Who is their frightening unpredictability. Poor Ian and Barbara are abducted by a mysterious time traveller (“Doctor who?”) who offers no assurance that they will ever be returned. In those early episodes, he is as much a danger to them as the monsters they encounter.

That sense of undefinable terror extends to the pioneering title sequence which, unlike the more literal examples of recent years, is visually experimental and utterly mesmerising. Set to Delia Derbyshire’s electronic rendering of Ron Grainer’s score, it’s a TV opening unlike any other.

Doctor Who was very important to me as a child growing up. I can dimly remember seeing some of the late Sylvester McCoy’s on their first broadcast – Battlefield, Curse of Fenric and Survival. Just my luck, as soon as I got interested in the show, it was cancelled! But there were still the Target novelizations to read and the BBC began bringing out the old serials on VHS, so that I soon amassed quite a collection!

The first Who book I ever read...

...and the first VHS I bought!

While I disliked Russell T. Davies’ conception of Doctor Who, I’ve become re-enthused by the episodes produced by Steven Moffat. I really do think that Matt Smith is a great Doctor, and I’ve got a feeling that the best is yet to come!

Happy Birthday, Doctor Who!

 

 

The Jon Pertwee Cookbook

Thanks to Life, Doctor Who and Combom for clearing up a little mystery from my youth. When I was a wee nipper, my grandma used to have a cookbook in her kitchen which fascinated me. She must have had it for about 20 years because it was endorsed by Jon Pertwee, the Doctor Who of the early 1970s. In recent years, I’ve tried to find out the name of the recipe book. Well, here it is!

I don't imagine Jon really spoke like this

It might seem strange to see Matt Smith on a cookbook today, but Pertwee makes perfect sense. After all, the Third Doctor could often be seen sipping a glass of fine wine or chomping on a sandwich while fencing with some villain. That’s why Jon Pertwee is the best Doctor Who – he’s not just an adventurer, he’s a gourmet adventurer in a cape.

Pertwee’s wife Ingeborg brought out her own cookbook as well. I’ve got it in my kitchen but have yet to try some of the recipes. Probably best sampled while watching Spearhead from Space!

 

Doctor Who series 5 episodes 7-9

Tom Steward has happy dreams but finds something unpleasant underground…

Amy’s Choice
A fantastic episode in every sense of the word. Stories set predominantly in fantasy spaces have a long history in the show. The third Dr. Who serial, a two parter called Edge of Destruction, had the Doctor and his companions psychically induced by the TARDIS into paranoid fantasies. Over the decades we’ve had The Mind Robber set in a parallel universe of fiction and several stories which explore the Freudian dream world of ‘The Matrix’ on the Doctor’s home planet Gallifrey such as The Deadly Assassin or The Ultimate Foe.

Stories such as these have been thin on the ground for a long time now, but Amy’s Choice made a case for commissioning more in the future. Sitcom writer Simon Nye (Men Behaving Badly) seemed an unusual choice for this episode but his ornate and surreal dialogue enlivened the ponderous aspects of the episode: ‘If you had any more tawdry quirks, you’d have to open a tawdry quirk shop’.

Smith reached a new level of brilliance with his facility for absurd comedy and sublime moments of acting weirdness. Toby Jones is one of Britain’s finest screen actors and as the Dream Lord he provided one of the most compelling, entertaining and exquisitely devised villains in the show’s history. This was also an extremely challenging episode that showed violence towards old people as part of its fantasy plotting, something I found very brave and consonant with the new series’ proclivities towards adult horror fiction.

The Hungry Earth
This was a promising start to a much-anticipated two-parter heralding the return of some long-neglected Dr. Who monsters: underground-dwelling, prehistoric reptiles The Silurians. The Silurians appeared twice during the Pertwee/Letts era in Doctor Who and The Silurians and The Sea Devils, which raised moral quandaries about genocide and colonialism. A hotchpotch of references to the Pertwee serials of the early 1970s (the drill from Inferno, the rural Welsh factory town of The Green Death), this was entertaining enough for one episode, however gratuitous and jumbled the homage often seemed.

The tendency towards smaller casts and settings (another village community) seen throughout the season made this serial a lot more enjoyable and dramatically successful than Russell T. Davies’ many attempts to create the TV equivalents of bloated Hollywood blockbuster disaster movies, like the 2009 Christmas Special Voyage of the Damned. This trip down seventies lane whet the appetite for the comeback of the Silurians but it was clear from the little we saw of them in this opener that they were to be a let-down. They were visually unexciting, confusingly written, and far too humanised even in this instalment. This was, however, a prime example of the show addressing the nation’s children and their issues by making good use of Smith’s chemistry with younger actors. The scenes involving the Doctor and his burgeoning friendship with the dyslexic son of the man kidnapped by the Silurians are amongst the best in this season.

Cold Blood
Cold bloody awful! This was a shocking conclusion to the two parter. The Silurians made an ill-advised return in the Peter Davison serial Warriors of the Deep in 1984 and had become dull and repetitive. Here they were even worse.

Ensnared by stodgy, dialogue-heavy scenes, the actors playing the Silurians – resembling characters from early 90s anthromorphic cartoons such as Dinosaurs or Fraggle Rock - never had a chance. No story of any interest emerged once the characters had entered the Silurians’ underground society. Moreover, the opportunity to discuss moral dilemmas surrounding indigenous populations, arguably the original motive behind these monsters, was completely missed. Environmentalism and coalition governments were on the agenda, but completely scuffed by pretensions of epic science-fiction and abrupt shifts between political debate and action.

Other causes for concern were the deeply misogynistic subplots suggesting women’s inability to make clear moral choices and their inferiority to benevolent patriarchs. The use of voiceover, which leadened many of the stories in the Davies/Tennant years, especially finale The End of Time, was similarly pointless here. Cold Blood was partially redeemed by a final ten minutes which gave an emotional clout to the ongoing ‘crack in time’ arc. Smith also deserves credit for still being able to provide several moments of classic Dr. Who overacting. His hammy writhing on the Silurians’ medical examination board was worthy of the finest pantomime of Pertwee and Troughton while his look of horror at the close of the episode fondly recalled Hartnell’s spine-tingling stares into the distance.

Doctor Who series 5 episodes 4-6

The second installment of Tom Steward‘s review series. Read the first part here and his series overview here!

The Time of Angels

This two-parter was instantly hailed as a classic Dr. Who story by fans and TV critics. I didn’t care for it much. It was clearly technically brilliant. Powerful location shooting bucked the trend for increasingly alienating CGI in the past few years, and the cinematography was remarkable, especially in the cave sequences which were lit perfectly for maximum eerieness.

Moffat’s breathless pacing provided a thrilling pre-credits teaser but continued unabated into the episode stunting the growth of the characters, especially the Doctor and Amy. It forced the actors into maintaining the pace of the action rather than refining their performances. The re-introduction of mystery scientist River Song (Alex Kingston) seemed lamely underwritten, as the actress struggled to maintain a coherent tone. Even Matt looked nervous.

The main problem was the mishandling of the Weeping Angels, first seen in Moffat’s acclaimed Blink in 2008. The mythology of these monsters had been re-jigged so that they no longer sent people back through time and were now capable of coming to life through images. This jettisoned that which made them genuinely dread-inducing in the first place for the sake of a few gaspworthy set pieces.

And while I like the notion of the Doctor as a man of action (martial arts master Pertwee is my favourite) the episode tried to oversell the idea to the viewer. This resulted in an embarrassingly babbled rabble-rousing monologue in the closing moments, completely undermining the silent mystique of the action hero.

Flesh and Stone

Contrary to popular opinion, as I usually am with Dr. Who, I much preferred the second part of this story. Unlike the opener, which leapt around aimlessly for much of its running time, this concluding episode was intense and exciting throughout. Like The Beast Below, the episode was saved by an extraordinary horror moment: a scene where viewers finally witness the Angels move. It played brilliantly on deep-seated anxieties – like inanimate objects coming to life – and made fine use of the inherently sinister art of mime. This really pushed the boundaries of horror in a way promised but never achieved by The Time of Angels.

I was also pleased that the show used this episode to put to bed (quite literally) the annoying sexual tension between the Doctor and his female companions, introduced by the flawed 1996 movie and institutionalised since Davies took over as producer. While still acknowledging the viewers who, since 2005, tuned into the show as a soap opera, the show finally distanced itself from the romantic undertones of the central double act.

Reducing romance to base comedy and innuendo (‘Amy Pond, I need to sort you out’), Flesh and Stone demonstrated clearly to the viewer that consummation was no longer a possibility in the show’s fictional world. Elsewhere, Moffat’s overly busy plotting reared its head again, unsuccessfully trying to merge a one-off story with an increasingly self-important season arc. The real victims of this were the Angels, surely fascinating enough monsters on their own.

Vampires of Venice

I have nothing but good things to say about this episode. This was simply the best Dr. Who story since the melancholy Survival in 1989, the last serial starring Sylvester McCoy before the 15-year hiatus.

Being Human creator Toby Whithouse’s handling of some fairly clichéd series conventions (gothic horror monsters that turn out to be aliens) was pitch-perfect; wittily crafted, dramatically sturdy, and the perfect mixture of flamboyance and restraint. Whithouse has an amazing talent for intermingling the macabre and the comic. Nowhere better can this be seen than the pre-credits teaser which passed seamlessly from sixteenth century Venice to a stag night in modern day rural England.

The stripper

The emotional impact of the episode, whether in the relationship between Amy and fiancée Rory or the tragic backstory of the ‘fish from space’, was always poignant and sincere. But the expert use of the 45-minute format is what really impressed me. Impeccably paced and minimally written, this episode didn’t lack or condense story and content, as with so many of the others in this season, and across the last five years.

Tonally, Vampires of Venice was flawless. Storylines about genocide and racial exile were given due seriousness whilst the wackier elements, such as swordplay and magic ‘on/off’ switches, were suitably ludicrous. The imminent threat and danger in this episode were underlined by some nicely understated yet charismatic villain performances and unseen budget-saving monsters. Charmingly, the most vicious of the aquatic aliens was signified indirectly by bubbles effervescing on the Venice canals.

Doctor Who series 5 episodes 1-3

Tom Steward continues his look back at this year’s series! Read his overview here.

The Eleventh Hour

This deliberately lightweight introduction to the new series smoothed the transition from the madcap farce of the Davies era. It’s been traditional in Dr. Who for the first episode under a new producer and actor to be a tribute to the departing crew and cast. For example, the debut of fourth Doctor Tom Baker and producer Philip Hinchcliffe – Robot – was a serial set in the familiar world of UNIT, paying tribute to the Pertwee and Letts Earth-bound era of hard action.

For the majority of this episode, Smith’s Doctor was dressed in Tennant’s clothes, his performance still couched in the floaty-eyed wonder of his predecessor. Rather than doing an impression, though, Smith was thoughtful and surprising where Tennant was grating and increasingly predictable.

Successful Who premieres also make significant breaks and their intentions clear straight off. The Eleventh Hour‘s comedy was predominantly verbal not visual. The settings were mundane and classically British (a quiet rural hamlet), and the Doctor came out not entirely sympathetically. As sharp a contrast as Tom Baker failing to karate-chop a brick Pertwee-style in the final scene of Robot!

The Beast Below

Although the challenges of a second episode (maintaining pace and performances) were ably met by Moffat and his brilliant actors, this episode exposed some of the new series’ weaknesses. The shift to Davies-like sentimentality in the latter stages tried too hard to pigeonhole the relationship between the Doctor and Amy as romantic before it had time to develop. This was a shame as the early part of the episode defined the dynamic more plausibly as one of teacher and student.

Moffat’s script was plot-heavy and reduced potentially fascinating characters, in particular Terrence Hardiman (The Demon Headmaster) as a shadowy government official, to mere exposition devices. The episode’s heart-stopping momentum made some plot elements (cryptic rhymes, unknown threats) almost incomprehensible.

However, Moffat’s horror credentials were shown off by one of the most terrifying introductions to a TV programme I can remember. The sequence, involving schoolchildren, subterranean elevators and the ventriloquist dummy-like Smilers, was a buffet of scares. Playing on basic but potent fears (dummies coming to life, slow-turning heads), it was nuts-and-bolts British horror par excellence. I haven’t been this chilled by the series since 1989′s Ghost Light, the underrated Sylvester McCoy’s disquieting and intangible haunted house chamber drama.

Effortlessly dopey and likeable, like his oft-cited favourite Patrick Troughton, Smith also displayed a genuinely awful temper, recalling the more abrasive William Hartnell. It was a magnificent performance, reviving the ambiguity and uneasiness lacking in his predecessor.

Victory of the Daleks

There was great fan animosity towards this episode, as there usually is to more historically-oriented serials. Criticism focused on the re-design of the Doctor’s most popular and established adversaries, the Daleks, as distended New Minis available in all pupil-burning colours.

I was equally nonplussed by the makeover, although it certainly reflects how the Daleks have been pop art design icons since the height of ‘Dalekmania’ in the mid-1960s. It’s a shame that this episode was so easily dismissed, as it’s a ripping yarn reminiscent of post-war comic strips like Eagle’s Dan Dare, with a very British sense of the mundane (the Daleks carrying box files and serving tea).

The writing was sharp, witty and minimalistic, with a historical rigour now sadly all too infrequent in the series. Ian McNiece’s Winston Churchill and the sub-plot of a pilot and servicewoman whose love is torn apart by war have also been subject to criticism. For my money, the portrayal of Churchill as essentially an underworld boss of dubious morality was bold and revisionist, avoiding the jingoistic hagiography usually associated with the historical figure. The restrained and de-personalised treatment of the romantic couple was totally appropriate to a story set during the collective effort of wartime.

It was also an episode that acknowledged the history of the series, with affectionate reprises of Troughton-era Dalek serials, reflections on how the Daleks used to look, how they used to be filmed and even how they found an afterlife as toys.


Who Dares Wins

I’m thrilled to introduce a new feature today, the Squeezegut Alley guest blog. We’re starting off with an absolute corker, as well. Here’s Tom Steward, with the first in a series considering the latest run of Doctor Who.

Who’s got the best show on television? Dunno. The Sopranos, probably. But only a matter of weeks after producer Steven Moffat and actor Matt Smith took over the programme, Dr Who is now eminently watchable again and could be a thing of greatness once more.

I’d become completely disenchanted with the direction the series had taken with Russell T Davies and David Tennant at the helm. It wasn’t simply enough to enjoy the Doctor’s adventures, you now had to worship the character and lead actor, whether you cared to or not. That combined with a limited range of storytelling and a stasis in characterisation brought the programme to the brink of credibility, almost as severely as producer John Nathan-Turner did with the series in the mid-1980s.

It’s a testament to the endlessly malleable format of Who that these worrying trends were reversed so quickly, and to Moffat and Smith that this was done without losing audience figures or denting the popularity of the central character. Moffat drastically improved the quality of drama, comedy and, in particular, horror of the programme over the last five years when he was an occasional writer. Though not a faultless producer (as some would have it!), since he took that role the series has regained many competencies. The pacing of episodes and series is now much more skilful, with a proper grasp of what it means to do long form storytelling, and not just cosmetically as a branding device as it was wielded under Davies.

The increase in the level of wit and successful comic writing since Moffat took over is undeniable (though writers Mark Gatiss, Gareth Roberts and Simon Nye need to take some credit here too), the show no longer relying on embarrassing slapstick to fill its funny quota. Moffat’s teleplays are, however, too densely plotted and overcomplicated on the whole, typically mistaking elaborate writing for complexity. Though this occasionally works well, with scenes involving the threat of the unknown and the horror that comes from it, it can often swamp the actors’ fine work and fog up the storytelling. Moffat has done an amazing job, however, in unwriting the mistakes of the Davies/Tennant era; letting characters be critical of the Doctor rather than standing around and admiring him, not trying to force the Doctor to be self-consciously fashionable or zeitgeist, disproving the necessity of a Doctor-companion love interest, and making the Doctor mysterious in motives and character again.

Undoubtedly the best decision Moffat made (or will ever make) as a producer was in casting Matt Smith. He’s the best thing to happen to the show in literally decades and could be the best character actor of his generation. He ranks amongst the finest portrayals of the role (and has probably already surpassed Tom Baker – most people’s default ‘favourite’ Doctor) and has re-invested the part with a genuine oddness that it has lacked at least since the re-launch in 2005.

The great Doctors have always known, seemingly instinctively, where to pitch their performance; when to overact, when to be measured etc. and Smith has that impulse. He can ham it up when being electrocuted by alien weaponry but knows when to brood or play the role (in the immortal words of Jon Pertwee) ‘straight down the middle’ – a quality sadly lacking in Tennant’s portrayal of the role, which was permanently wide-eyed and breathless. Not only is Smith’s performance a touching tribute to previous Doctors (especially Patrick Troughton – at one time the most lovable man on television!), it’s also a completely original interpretation of the role. Smith plays the Doctor as a socially awkward fish-out-of-water, something that (surprisingly) the show has only ever really hinted at before. Smith’s Doctor is a gangly twine ball of bad manners and inappropriate behaviours, rude or naive social conduct, completely unsettled when talking to the average human adult.

One of the delights of the new series is the introduction of more child actors into the main cast. Smith’s rapport with children is fantastic and we get a genuine sense of the show wanting to speak directly to children, something it did only intermittently in the previous five years despite concessions to kids’ TV (Barrowman, Piper et al.). It’s no coincidence that Smith’s Doctor talks to children like adults and adults like children. Once again, Dr Who shows that nothing about it is irrevocable and that new producers, actors and writers can thankfully turn the screws on old ones.