the FUNdamental difference

[scarfman]

stoplookingup wrote recently that she doesn't think she'll ever take to 20th century Doctor Who because of the campiness. In a paragraph-long post she concludes, "it's fun, but kind of from a distance." (edit I may have oversimplified. She clarifies in a comment below.)

Before I get further into this, though (because it's to the point): You'll've probably noticed that in such discussions I tend not to use the common fannish vocabulary, "old Who" and "new Who". I'll say instead, "20th century Doctor Who" and "21st century Doctor Who". But I've been realizing that either set of phrases are semantically misleading, because since 2000 Doctor Who has had only one showrunner while from 1963 till 1996 Doctor Who had so many showrunners that I can't name them all. And while much that distinguishes the two categories is differences in the expections of tv dramas in two different time periods, many of the differences are specific to the style of the only showrunner to date Doctor Who has had in the 21st century. So what I think I ought to be saying is "20th century Doctor Who" and "Russell Davies Doctor Who", till we see how many of the trails he's blazed are taken up by his successors.

Because while I agree with stoplookingup's assessment, I don't agree with her opinion. My comment to her post was in part, "Finally. Finally, finally, finally, I realize what Davies has done wrong. He leaves the fun out."

But that was only my initial response. The more I think about it, the more Davies Doctor Who is obviously not just un-fun, but anti-fun.

(Disclaimer: Of course fun is entirely subjective. But bear with me.)

First let's look at three epitomal giggley, grinny moments in Davies Doctor Who to date: the "We should really leave" moment at the beginning of Utopia, the "We should really leave" moment at the beginning of The Impossible Planet, and the "Werewolves!" moment in the middle of Tooth and Claw. What all of these moments have in common is they show that the Doctor and his companion are having the most fun when they're at their most reckless. This isn't a good thing, given the scale of the events they participate in; not even in-text, as the latter scene of these three demonstrates by being the event which moves Queen Victoria to create Torchwood with the express purpose of keeping Britain safe from the Doctor.

There are all sorts of lesser scenes like this through Davies Doctor Who, too. Harriet Jones' remarks to Rose in Aliens of London about the nature of life with the Doctor. Jack running for his life in Utopia and shouting, "God, I've missed this!" Mickey's initial decline of the Doctor's invitation to board the TARDIS in World War Three. "The running-for-your-life" has become a catchphrase to rival "reverse the polarity of the neutron flow". Normal, healthy people are portrayed as knowing that running for your life isn't fun. The Doctor (at least after he regenerates in Parting of the Ways), Rose, and Jack are not. Mickey buys into the lifestyle for a few minutes on the clockwork robots' ship, but when he leaves the TARDIS it's because there's work to be done, not fun to be had. Martha puts up with the running for her life because she's personally predisposed to helping people in need, and for her own not necessarily rational reasons, but neither of those can keep her on the TARDIS in the wake of the Year That Never Was.

Contrariwise, most of 20th century Doctor Who stories start out with the Doctor and the companion(s) attempting some touristy destination to feed their sense of wonder, and either landing in the wrong place or landing in the right place at the wrong time. Most of the plots of Seasons 1963 through 1965 consisted of landing, figuring out when/where you were, and getting separated from the TARDIS so you had to deal with the Evil Of The Month Club Selection when you weren't actually interested. Once you were in the situation, you coped with aplomb and snappy dialog (or at least your writers' attempts at snappy dialog). But you didn't seek trouble out, and you didn't relish it when it found you (even when you weren't surprised that it did, again). When Sarah Jane admits she ought to stay behind while the Doctor returns to the power plant in The Hand of Fear, but she's not going to, it's not because she's thrillseeking; it's because, "I worry about you."

The fun to be had was the audience's, and probably the actors', but not really the characters' - the worth to them was the good done.

I'm sure Davies is slanting the stories he runs this way on purpose, to make a statement about the life the Doctor lives, and to some degree this ties in with the differing expectations of tv drama audiences now than in 1963. But the overall effect comes up a downer: In Davies' first season finale the Doctor died. In the second his heart was broken. In the third he drove all his friends - Martha, Jack and the Master - away, their individual motives and means ranging wide over the sanity map but the end result to him the same. Meanwhile the Doctor has become someone who gives no second chances, gives warnings without describing consequences, grants enemies their wishes with genie-ish perversity, and is scary to normal people like office temps and queens of England.

I hope the next showrunner is judicious about which of Davies' trends he follows. And I hope s/he gets the chance soon. These things have a natural lifespan, you know. Most 20th century Doctor Who showrunners were at it no more than three to five years, and the only one longer than that tried to quit but his bosses wouldn't let him.

Edit Jan. 2010 sensiblecat has something similar to say about Davies here.

Comments

[redneckgaijin.livejournal.com]

If you mean John Nathan-Turner wasn't allowed to quit, then his bosses were choice idiots.

Talk about anti-fun...

[scarfman]

John Nathan-Turner's bosses were people who had it in for Doctor Who.

...Well, there were conflicting reports at the time, but this is how I remember it: Jonathan Powell was the head of drama or something like that and Michael Grade was the controller. Grade didn't want JNT on the series, but wasn't JNT's boss and couldn't fire him; he could only control how much air time JNT's Doctor Who got, and that - it was believed - is why Doctor Who went from twenty-six to fourteen half-hour episodes a year in the mid-80s. Powell did have the authority to fire JNT but hated Doctor Who and didn't have the authority to cancel it. JNT wanted to move on from Doctor Who but, for whatever reason, wasn't in a position to tell Powell to cruk off.

[pbristow.livejournal.com]

...The main reson being that if he left, the show would die "because no one wants to take it over" (a situation that followed naturally from Grade and Powell's positions). For all that he wanted to be working on something else, JN-T did love Who and wanted it to continue. I think the most positive development flowed naturally out of the most negative: The blow-up with Eric Saward taught JN-T to take a slightly less hands-on approach with the stories, and allowed Andrew Cartmel, with his chosen writing team, the chance to shape a more coherent (and *enjoyable*) vision of the series than was ever possible while Saward and JN-T were pulling in opposite directions. JN-T still steered the barge through the BBC's treacherous waters, but once Cartmell got his feet under the desk he was less inclined to throw completely mis-matched elements into the middle of other people's carefully worked-out creations.

(Yeah, I know, I'm two years late to this party. =:o} )

[stoplookingup.livejournal.com]

I don't disagree one bit! My sense is that what Rusty has chosen to do is give the Doctor a Mission (with a capital M) to Protect and Defend -- and punish. As opposed to earlier incarnations, where he was a free spirit who fell into situations a lot and happened to wind up protecting and defending. Except when he WAS given a mission -- I happen to be in the middle of the Key to Time series -- but even there, the mission is very concrete -- find these things. Not, punish evil and maintain the universe.

What I can't relate to in old Who is the artifice of campiness -- the sense that everything is tongue-in-cheek and everyone is keenly aware that they're running for their lives from a guy in bubble wrap. But I recognize that this is a matter of taste as much as anything, and I remain convinced that, if I'd been watching since childhood, I'd have no problem with it at all.

To be fair to Rusty, I do prefer characters to have a more fully realized emotional dimension, and I'm glad he introduced that. But it's a two-edged sword, because if you hate the emotional situation the writers set up, it ends up worse than if it was barely there and you had to fill in the blanks wtih your imagination.

[scarfman]

Thanks for clarifying. Hope I haven't misrepresented you.

[capriuni.livejournal.com]

But it's a two-edged sword, because if you hate the emotional situation the writers set up, it ends up worse than if it was barely there and you had to fill in the blanks wtih your imagination.

Um... yeah. And that's the situation I'm in, with the new series. The fact is, I did fall in love with Who in the pre-Davies era, and the emotional dimension that Davies has given the Doctor seems to have come out of nowhere. There were subtle hints to the Doctor's emotional depths in the 20th C. version, and none of them hinted (to me) that we'd ever get a character like the one Davies has given us -- especially the part about punishing. The old Doctor would never have gone that route.

Also, remember: a lot of those costumes were made in an era before hi-definition TV. With the picture fuzzy enough (as it was on the old set in my bedroom), you really couldn't tell it was bubble wrap).

[alto2.livejournal.com]

the emotional dimension that Davies has given the Doctor seems to have come out of nowhere.

Yes. And that whole romantic angle is the worst of the lot. I think Rusty justifies this by saying "Oh, he's lonely, he's the last Time Lord," but that's a lame excuse (and I honestly think, more and more, that this Time War stuff was a big mistake). S2 annoyed me so much, because the characters were so smug (I wearied of Ten's pontifications very early on, as well). I liked Rose quite a lot in the first year, and by the end of the second, I couldn't wait to see the back of her. Contrast Ten/Rose with, say, Five/Tegan: I love the moment in "Enlightenment" when Tegan's dressed up for the party and tries to get an opinion out of Five, and barely gets a "Hmph" as he starts on his way, because that's not nearly as important as stopping the baddies. As it shouldn't be.

The punishment angle in the new series bothers me a lot. I was quite unhappy with Ten in The Runaway Bride because of the way he essentially committed genocide. The Doctor I know doesn't do that sort of thing unless there's literally no other option--and even then, he certainly doesn't do it out of vengeance or a desire to punish. In that regard, Nine's inability to use the Delta Wave in "Parting of the Ways" is far truer to the old-school Doctor.

The wonder has gone out of New!Who, I agree, even though I think Rusty and David Tennant certainly attempt to put it there, and probably think they have.

a lot of those costumes were made in an era before hi-definition TV.

I don't think low-def TV was really the issue--I think the budget was the issue. That, plus the fact that bubblewrap was a new thing and thus more likely to be a bit scary to kids who'd never seen it before than it is to us now. ;)

[theta-g.livejournal.com]

The classic series always tacitly asked us non-children to blind ourselves to its material limitations. But the reason it was easy to do so was precisely because everyone *didn't* waltz around like they were being chased by bubble wrap. Usually the performers entered those little sets with absolute conviction. People only ever bought classic Who when it was being properly sold.

The subversive performers *did* tend to cheapen the story *cough* Timelash *cough* Pauldarrow *cough* although sometimes they "did a turn" so you enjoyed their charm.

The refreshing thing about the new series is that Davies said a single word to us at the beginning: look. No significant material limitations are in view and more than that, all the "commonsense questions" (as Davies puts it) about characters and situations that we never asked are put in front and answered.

I do see scarfman's point about the higher-resolution drama being a little more grim. I think maybe I've taken my classic series blindness and applied it to the new series' attempts to make sense out of the world of Doctor Who ;-)

[sensiblecat.livejournal.com]

You make some excellent points. The scariness of the Doctor lies in the combination of immense power and a flawed moral compass. Throughout the show's history he's wrestled with moral dilemmas, but RTD's Doctor is as likely to be influenced by his own emotional state as by moral absolutes.

Partly this reflects the longevity of the franchise, and the fact the we now have a second generation of fans revisiting their childhood icon as writers. The show's avowed intention to succeed as family drama places contradictions on it, sometimes irreconcilable ones. The Doctor has to appeal to an adrenaline-fuelled, manga-saturated young audience, and also an older one in search of emotional depth. If the Doctor thinks too much before he jumps, not enough will happen.

Given RTD's stated personal beliefs, I think there's also an attempt to ask what restraining influences on our behaviour remain when our social structure and its associated morality are taken away. The Doctor's choices are stark. He can remain alone, or he can relate to humans as his equals. His present condition suggests that loneliness isn't the best option for him or for the universe. Actions have consequences - that was clearly demonstrated at the end of S2 and I don't think we were ever meant to view the behaviour of Ten and Rose as a couple uncritically.

S3 has continued a trend from S2. The actions of the Doctor's human associates are often more selfless and responsible than his own. Arguably, Jack and Martha both suffered more than he did at the Master's hands, but the spotlight was on the Doctor's pain at losing the Master, his last chance to maintain the illusion that he could avoid both loneliness and humanity. Yet he's oblivious to their emotional needs, and they despair of this changing, so they leave him alone.

Joan Redfern shows a similar nobility, and her final question to the Doctor shows how locked he is into the behaviour pattern of objectifying other people and seeing them as supporting cast in his personal drama. "Had you not chosen this place on a whim, would all those people have died?"

I'm hopeful that in S4 we will see this move towards some kind of resolution, allowing the Doctor growth and character development. Unless that happens, the issues raised remain those of fitness for office and possible abuse of power - very contemporary, and somewhat depressing.

[stickmaker.livejournal.com]

The very earliest episodes were quite grim and threatening, and on a very personal level. They defeated the Daleks partly because it was the right thing to do, but mostly because this was necessary to their own survival. _The Romans_ was a major change of pace _because_ it was so farcical.

The feel of _Dr. Who_ has drifted - and sometimes jumped - in more than one direction from the first episode (_An Unearthly Child_) of course. That was very much part of the TV F/SF anthology and one-shot special genre from the late Fifties and early Sixties, like one of the better _Twilight Zone_ or _Outer Limits_ episodes. (US citizen, here, who can't cite the British equivalents.) That feeling wasn't maintained, and probably couldn't have been for a series.

Despite the quality of stories and acting and special effects the current version just doesn't appeal to me as much as almost any of the earlier ones. That's a matter of taste, of course.

[stickmaker.livejournal.com]

Silly me; I _have_ the original _Quatermass and the Pit_ mini-series (as it would be called today) on VHS tapes. While there are some significant differences there is also much the same feel in _An Unearthly Child_.