The Box-Set Of Delights

With the new series still several months away, there seems to be more and more focus on classic Doctor Who as we eagerly await the new Doctor making her grand entrance in October. The Twitch marathon continues apace, 20th century companions Wendy Padbury, Carol Ann Ford, and Sophie Aldred grace the front cover of this month’s Doctor Who Magazine, and we’ve recently seen the (slightly delayed) release of the shiny new Season 12 Blu-ray box-set. (Or the ‘Tom Baker Season 1 box-set’ if you’re in America…) 

I confess to being slightly nonplussed when the announcement was first made that seasons of the classic show were going to be re-released as box-set collections. I mean, lovely as they are - how many times can we possibly be expected re-buy these old episodes…? But then the sheer amount of love and care that was being put into making this an ‘ultimate’ edition quickly became apparent - this was no rush-job cash-in. Seduced by the strikingly beautiful box artwork by Lee Binding, as well as a glorious gallimaufry of brand new extra features - it took me, ooh, minutes, before I caved in and pre-ordered. And now that I’m sitting here with this sexy and sturdy box of complete joy in my hands, it’s got me thinking about all the different ways in which we’ve welcomed these old friends into our homes over the years… Allow me to take you by the plunger and lead you on a personal voyage through thirty years of house-calls from the Doctor… 

Live Transmissions

I became a fan at the age of eight, in 1988, halfway through Remembrance Of The Daleks - so, although I didn’t know it at the time, opportunities to watch new episodes as they went out live were shortly to be subjected to something of a hiatus… We did have a video recorder by this point, but no one knew how to work the timer - someone had to be there to press ‘record’ as each episode went out, or it was lost to the time vortex forever. At that time Doctor Who was transmitted on a Wednesday evening, which clashed with the local cub scout pack meetings that I attended, so the sacred duty of capturing each week’s instalment was entrusted to my parents. Something went wrong with the taping of Part Three of The Happiness Patrol, however - they somehow managed to record the wrong channel, and I was inconsolable to find that all I had was a tape of northern people going about their everyday lives. I had to wait NINE years to see it - when the commercial VHS release finally came out in 1997. Naturally, this incident prompted me to quit the cub scouts for good. To this day I can’t make a fire or tie a knot, but I did manage to see all of Silver Nemesis, which, I’m sure you’ll agree, makes me the winner in this story. 

VHS Tapes

I’d already begun to collect the VHS releases by the time the TV show came to an abrupt end in 1989. Those early tapes, such as Pyramids Of Mars, Day Of The Daleks, and The Talons Of Weng-Chiang, were so indelibly impressed upon my young mind that I can still recite them word for word. And watching the fuzzy, unrestored, VHS quality was like looking through a time-window to a thousand years ago - I felt like a noble historian, carefully collecting and preserving these impossibly old artefacts - most of which were in reality not much older than myself. Our family home was burgled once, when I was about eleven, and I was utterly distraught to see that my collection had gone. Never mind the priceless heirlooms and family silver - I insisted upon giving the police a detailed description of each and every Doctor Who video that I owned. (It later turned out that I’d actually just not left them where I thought I had, and they hadn’t been stolen at all. Some burglars have no taste.) 

UK Gold

As with many technological innovations - satellite television was something that I only became interested in when it offered an opportunity to see more Doctor Who. My parents surprised me with a satellite dish one Christmas, when I was thirteen. This was too good to be true - they were showing my favourite show on UK Gold EVERY DAY! And the truly dedicated fan could get up at some ungodly hour on a Sunday morning and catch an omnibus of a complete story - every week! The first story I caught on this space-age medium was The Ark - I loved it so much. The following September, however, I was packed off to boarding school - where there were definitely no satellite dishes, and putting up a poster of a Sea Devil in one’s dorm room was, in retrospect, not the best way to make friends and influence people. So they were short lived, those heady satellite days, but they were UK Golden. 

DVD

I was in my first year of drama school by the time Doctor Who started to be released on DVD. Again - it was this development that prompted me to invest in the technology required to play the shiny futuristic discs. My first acquisition was The Robots Of Death. The picture was so sharp and clear! And there were extra features and menu screens - we truly were living in the promised times! (Admittedly, the main extra feature on that first disc was a copy of the studio floor plans - but I remember thinking at the time that they were a valuable and fascinating resource. I have never looked at them since.) The DVD range went on to spoil us with vast arrays of bonus content and VidFIRE restorations. For years it felt like getting a monthly video magazine, packed with making-of features and interviews - and the occasional documentary on black pudding. Truly, we thought - this is the definitive collection… 

Back to the present day…

Now, of course, there are more ways than ever to pipe Doctor Who into our homes, with the likes of Twitch marathons and iPlayer streaming. And the aforementioned blu-ray box-set, which surely is the ‘ultimate’ collection of these stories that we’ve carried with us throughout our lives. There’s a special feature devoted to a compilation of studio clocks. And half an hour of silent footage of the Season twelve cast chain-smoking. (As well as my absolute favourite extra bit - Janet Fielding, Louise Jameson, and Sarah Sutton doing a ‘Gogglebox’ style viewing of episodes that they weren’t in - I could happily watch this trio chewing the fat for hours, on any topic at all. Lots more of this please, blu-ray elves.) So, finally, we can be sure that we’re buying these episodes for the last time, can’t we…?

Yeah, right. See you in 2028 for the 3D brain-implant of Spearhead from Space - featuring an artificially intelligent and fully-restored Terrance Dicks. I can’t wait. 

Richard Unwin

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[Source: DWO]

Terror Of The Time Team!

In the absence of any new news from Cardiff, the big talking point this past week has been the reveal of Doctor Who Magazine's all-new Time Team lineup. Traditionally, the Time Team - a feature launched in 1999 - has consisted of a group of four fans working their way through the entirety of Doctor Who, in chronological order, giving commentary, opinions, and observations as they go - usually accompanied by sublime illustration by Adrian Salmon. Now, however, it’s all-change, and a brand new group of twelve bold adventurers, who’ll be ruminating on a selection box of stories each month, was revealed in Issue 525 on Thursday the 3rd of May.

This may not sound like a big deal to the casual observer, but such was the interest in this unveiling that the phrase ‘Time Team’ was trending on Twitter - it appeared that everyone had something to say about this shiny new team. The responses could be broadly sorted into three main categories - celebration, apoplectic fury, and people who were confused that the news wasn’t to do with Tony Robinson and archeology.  

Most of the complaints seemed to stem from the fact that none of the new team are over the age of twenty-six, and that some of them are *gasp* only familiar with the post-2005 modern series of Doctor Who. Some people clearly felt that the magazine was betraying its loyal older readership by ‘dumbing down’ and presenting a selection of young ’n’ trendy social media types who wouldn’t know a Garm from a Gastropod. The sense of entitlement - the outrage that these whippersnappers could be permitted to pass comment on OUR holy texts - was fascinating to witness. And, at times, a little disturbing. 

There were also complaints from some quarters about the fresh team being diverse in race and gender - presumably from the same sorts of people who refuse point-blank to watch a female Doctor, get their knickers in a twist about racially diverse actors appearing in historical adventures, and think that accusing someone of being concerned with social justice is somehow an insult… You know the type - those who are convinced that even the vaguest mention of anyone who’s not a straight white cisgendered male is some sort of ‘box-ticking’ PC conspiracy. We shan’t concern ourselves with this monstrous minority any further - let’s just leave them screaming impotently into the void.

I have to confess to some brief, initial agreement with those who voiced concerns. And, as someone who was born in the year of City of Death, I’m naturally confused by, suspicious of, and a little bit scared by YouTubers and social media ‘influencers’…  The few that I’ve been exposed to in the past seemed to share identikit ‘upbeat’ personalities and unnatural uniform beauty, weaponised by ruthless commercial acumen. ‘YouTuber hair’ is definitely a thing. I quickly realised, of course, that this distrust is merely a product of my own advancing years and a failure on my part to embrace and comprehend new forms of expression. (But I still reckon that someone ought to write a Doctor Who episode where YouTubers turn out to be Autons - have that for free if you’re reading this Chris…) 

However, having done some light research on the debuting dozen, I’m pleased to report that any foolish fears have been allayed. They appear to be a delightful bunch of bright young things, many of whom have more than demonstrated phenomenal creative talents in various other projects and arenas. And of COURSE they are - they were selected and put together by Benjamin Cook, a shining stalwart of our beloved periodical since he was but a tadpole himself, and proof, if it were needed, that it’s perfectly possible to be simultaneously a YouTube sensation AND wield expertise on the life-cycle of a Vervoid. Plus I’m already familiar with, and a fan of, the work of two of our intrepid archeologists - the fabulous Fan Show presenter Christel Dee, and the smouldering Big Finish performer Jacob Dudman. We’re in safe hands. (If you’re reading this Jacob - I love you.) 

Yes - they could have plumped for greater variance in age, but isn’t it actually rather fun and exciting that they haven’t…? We’ve all heard a hundred opinions on The Claws of Axos from the old guard who can recite the production codes backwards. The fact that some of this new gang of bright-eyed beauties have never even seen a single episode of ‘classic’ Who means that we’re going to get real fresh and untainted responses to the material. In a way, this modern approach is more akin to the phenomenally successful ‘Class 4G’ articles put together by Gary Gillatt in the nineties, than the classic Time Team's who were often clearly just faking that it was their first time. I know it seems unthinkable to some that Doctor Who fans could possibly be trendy young people who don’t own even a single anorak, but to me it’s thrilling and heartwarming to see the sacred flame being passed on to the next generation of space oddities. I’d encourage anyone who’s worried by this development to do their best to put aside their concerns, embrace the future, and enjoy the ride. Sure, these youngsters may spout the occasional odd opinion - such as classic show cliffhangers being ‘cheap tricks’, or describing the Brigadier as a ‘babe’ - but surely we’ve all held odd opinions at some time or another…? (I took me until my thirties to truly appreciate the utter glory that is Time And The Rani. “Leave the girl, it’s the man I want!”) Different perspectives are what makes this interesting.

Isn’t it extraordinary that the lineup change of a humble magazine feature has sparked such passionate discourse…? But, ultimately, the only way is forward. Doctor Who is for everyone - everyone who ever caught a glimpse of the magic blue box and had it imprinted forever on their hearts. To jealously guard our fantastical treasures and deem others who are perhaps less well-versed in the scripture as somehow ‘unworthy’ of studying them is the antithesis of everything that blue box represents. If the magazine, and the show, are to survive for future generations to enjoy, we literally HAVE to welcome fresher faces to the party - none of us are immortal! I wish the Time Team of 2018 the very best on their new adventure. Enjoy! 

However, I’m FURIOUS about the new article not being accompanied by an Adrian Salmon illustration. Doctor Who Magazine is dead to me!
 

Richard Unwin

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[Source: DWO]

Hello! Welcome to this new column! ‘What’s it about?’ I hear you cry. Good question. I’m not entirely sure of the answer yet - let’s just see what happens. 

My initial thought was that this would be a sort of ‘Doctor Who Diary’ - a monthly round-up of things that have been happening in the Whoniverse, peppered with gossip and chit-chat and gags. A bit like the ‘3AM Girls’, but with more Terileptils. With this in mind, on Friday the 13th of April I dutifully headed off to the Target Books signing at the London Forbidden Planet Megastore on Shaftesbury Avenue. Due to attend were all five authors of the new adaptations, including Russell T Davies and Steven Moffat - perhaps I could get some juicy quotes from them! Maybe Russell could be persuaded to finally spill the beans on Christopher Eccleston, or Steven could explain the actual literal silence at the end of Vampires of Venice…? That sort of inside scoop could really get this fledgling feature off to a flying start! 

Quick bit of background: I have been to a few organised fan events in the past, but not many. I attended Panopticon 93 - the big 30th anniversary convention - as a precocious fourteen year old. And then, twenty years later, I trotted along to the enormous, slick, BBC organised 50th Anniversary celebration at London’s ExCel Exhibition Centre. (Where fans were herded about in giant hangers like Ood being prepared for shipping - a lot of the experience was quite miserable.) And, most recently, for the past couple of years I’ve enjoyed the annual Utopia weekends held at Eynsham Hall in Oxfordshire, relaxed affairs which are much more up my alley. Mostly a lot of drunk gay men in a big old country house fawning over Wendy Padbury and other ‘actresses of a certain age’. (I say that with the greatest of affection, and count myself among the fawners.) Throw in the odd book signing here and there, (as well as pub meets for LGBT Doctor Who fans with The Sisterhood of Karn in Soho - more on them another time…) and that’s about the sum total of my fan event experience. So I had a reasonable idea of what to expect from the Target event, but by no means consider myself an expert on such matters. 

I arrived at Forbidden Planet a good hour before the scheduled start time, and was surprised to be confronted by a snaking queue already winding its way right around the block - there were *hundreds* of people there, far more than I had anticipated. Perhaps you were one of them and saw me - looking slightly panicked as I walked along the line to join the back of the queue, trying desperately to appear terribly cool and above it all.

I’ve always had a slightly complicated relationship with my own fandom. I consider myself to be a hardcore aficionado - I own Wartime on DVD - but there’s still sometimes a slight sense of shame that can nip at my heels from time to time. Here I was, suddenly exposed and out on the street, clutching my carrier bag full of books ready to be signed. Within the first few minutes several bemused onlookers asked what was going on - the look on their faces when I explained that the queue was to meet some Doctor Who writers only helped to fuel my shame demons… Which I *know* is ridiculous - I *know* that being a fan is wonderful and magical and enriching - I think it’s just the baggage of preconceived ideas of others that sometimes weighs heavy on me. Plus there was the fact that at that precise moment I was surrounded by the worst thing in the universe - other fans. 

Fans in front of me, fans behind me - nothing but fans. I didn’t want to interact, I didn’t want them to talk to me - I steeled myself for however many hours it was going to take of standing in complete silence. I absolutely didn’t want to engage with the sort of people who would subject themselves to standing in the cold, for hours, all for the sake of a sci-fi show. So instead I popped in my headphones and played the latest Fifth Doctor adventure from Big Finish. 

Eventually, the people in front of me, two men and a girl, did strike up a conversation, and, reluctantly, I got drawn in. And then, of course, we talked for *hours*. Talking and talking and more wonderful talking. It is an extraordinary and liberating thing to converse with people who share the same specialised knowledge as oneself. (‘Yes, the spine numbering on the Titan graphic novels IS quite irritating…’ ) We learnt about each other’s lives and loves and favourite Virgin Missing Adventures. And it was glorious. There was I, intent on being all stand-offish and judgemental, and here were these wonderful, funny, generous people - kind and wise enough to ignore my pretentions and include me in a happy little makeshift group that smiled and laughed and queued in the cold.

When we reached the head of the line - two and a half hours later - we insisted to the Forbidden Planet gatekeepers that we should go in to the signing as a foursome, and refused to be separated. It is clear to me, and probably to you, that I had been projecting my own fears and insecurities about my own fandom onto others, and that, dear reader, is a very silly thing to do. What I had so foolishly feared wasn’t other fans at all - it was simply my own reflection. Fortunately, on this occasion the Mara was defeated, and everyone skipped off into the sunset for space buns and tea. 

I can’t say that the shame demons will never haunt me again, but this happy and enlightening experience has equipped me to better fight them off if they do. (Oh - also there was a bit where some people signed some books for us, but that was over very quickly, and I was too busy giggling with my new friends to ask them for any quotes or gossip. Sorry.)

Richard Unwin

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[Source: DWO]