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When Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper became the face of ‘Doctor
Who’ during the course of 2005 the viewing public, the media and the
upper echelons of the BBC took the series into their hearts with such a
passion that many a seasoned fan was lost for words. This amazement was
understandable. Barring Philip Segal’s ill-starred 1996 effort, the
years between 1989 and 2005 saw ‘Doctor Who’ largely reduced to a series
of paper-based appearances in the local book shop and newsagents, a
growing library of BBC Videos living off of the show’s colossal back
catalogue, and some leftover toys and sundries mainly found in the dusty
dens of specialist merchandise dealers. Of course, we must not forget
that Big Finish Productions kept the torch burning with its excellent –
and ongoing – audio collection of new classic series adventures. What is
more, a variety of fanzines and online efforts gave the fans a range of
outlets to discharge their opinions and trigger discussions. In the mind
of Joe Public, however, ‘Doctor Who’ belonged to another era. More,
since the series’ cancellation a host of science fiction substitutes had
blazed a trail across film and television, leaving Gallifrey’s maverick
Time Lord and his unpredictable time machine confined to the world of
yesterday.
Series One changed all that. The Doctor and his TARDIS, the faithful
companion and the bug-eyed monster were all returned to televisual life
in what quickly became a veritable renaissance. No longer was ‘Doctor
Who’ the exclusive province of the diehard fan and his or hers hard won
collection of memorabilia. No longer was it confined to a cycle of
endless repeats, broadcast at some obscure time of the day on satellite
television. Instead, school playgrounds once more resounded to the order
“exterminate”, Saturday evenings rang out to the sound of the TARDIS’
iconic VWORP VWORP and the space behind the family sofa was returned to
its rightful status as a place of refuge. In achieving this remarkable
feat it is hard to find serious fault in the thirteen forty-five minute
episodes which, between them, delivered up ten brand new adventures and
an all new Doctor-companion team. Plus, two returning classic series
monsters, a liberal helping of first-time menaces and a radically
re-designed TARDIS console room. Indeed, Series One was in every sense
the vehicle which re-launched ‘Doctor Who’ – unarguably the single
biggest present for which a fan could wish.
Helmed by producer Phil Collinson, head writer and executive producer
Russell T. Davies and Head of Drama for BBC Wales Julie Gardner, Series
One smacked of endless enthusiasm right from the outset. Each and every
moment was charged with a sense of crispness and vitality which blew
away the cobwebs of sixteen years on the shelf. It seemed appropriate,
then, that the series’ débuting Ninth Doctor, portrayed with such a
tremendous sense of energy by Christopher Eccleston, should use the word
“fantastic” as his catchphrase. Fantastic pretty much summed it all up.
Re-packaging ‘Doctor Who’ for the twenty-first century viewer was
probably the most delicate part of planning and producing the new
series. It entailed nothing less than a carefully managed blending of
tradition and innovation; an act which involved no small degree of hard
thinking. One of the clearest – and most contentious – developments was
the re-balancing of the Doctor-companion relationship, so as to give the
companion a more central role. This in turn allowed the Doctor to
occasionally take a step back from the action and behave how you might
expect a third party to the unraveling of time – in other words a Time
Lord – to behave. From the very beginning this new slant was evident.
Consider, for example, the opening scene of the first episode, in which
the viewer is given a world’s eye view, only to rapidly zoom in on the
bedroom of one Rose Tyler. When Rose awakes to the sound of her
insistent alarm clock it is strikingly clear that the unfolding
adventure hinges upon her life and her story. For this approach to work
in the slightest it needed an artist who could stand toe-to-toe with the
lead actor and be convincing. In Billie Piper the production team struck
pure gold. Scene after scene Piper demonstrated all the qualities of the
girl-next-door, appealing to old and young alike with her infectious
enthusiasm and wide-eyed amazement. However, whenever it was needed she
could change gear and show a gutsy, determined young woman who, in spite
of being caught up in the not inconsiderable wake of a Time Lord, was
more than a match for many a lurking nasty. That this state of affairs
became a trend throughout Series One sent some members of fandom running
for the hills. It was a stroke of genius insofar as the casual viewer
was concerned.
Which brings us to Christopher Eccleston. Resurrecting ‘Doctor Who’
required a plethora of pieces to fit together, but without a darn good
lead the whole endeavour would have been finished before it started.
Eccleston’s passionate, gritty approach was just the tonic for
re-booting ‘Doctor Who’ for a new generation. Certainly, the Edwardian
gentleman has his place in the series, but in March 2005 a tough
incarnation with an abrasive personality and a heart of gold gave the
public a Doctor who meant business and who had no plans to come second.
And don’t forget the no-nonsense wardrobe – quite possibly the most
functional example of Time Lord tailoring there will ever be.
Eccleston’s decision to leave at the close of Series One was a
disappointment to many fans, but on the bright side it perfectly matched
his incarnation’s quick-fire approach to life, leaving behind a frenetic
legacy which lost none of its momentum over the course of his thirteen
energy-packed episodes.
Aside from introducing a new Doctor and a new companion, the opening
episode of Series One also set the ground rules for story pacing.
Battling the Autons in present-day Earth was a speedy affair in which
the newly anointed Ninth Doctor – all fervour and frenzy – indelibly
imprinted himself upon the viewer’s mind in a whirlwind of action. A
single fast-paced line served to explain events on a vast scale, and at
once reflected the speed-wagon style of the Doctor’s latest persona.
Long time fans may have been pleased to see a classic monster in the
guise of the Nestene Consciousness, but the high-velocity approach led
some to draw the conclusion that the programme had been sold out to the
fast-food television culture which the newly titled ‘classic series’ had
managed to avoid, in spite of all manner of competition being thrown at
it from both sides of the Atlantic.
Whether the story pacing was at issue or not, Series One served up one
dynamic adventure after another, generating such considerable impetus
that it ultimately proved irresistible in attracting a new generation of
eager young fans. After a double helping of Davies-written scripts
(‘Rose’ and ‘The End of the World’) Mark Gatiss weighed in with a
ghoulish case of body snatching in ‘The Unquiet Dead’. Crisp dialogue
and a wonderful set of guest cast performances lent this episode a gloss
which, in retrospect, planted Eccleston’s interpretation of the Time
Lord in the hearts and minds of fandom – or at least those members
flexible enough to countenance a new style of ‘Who’. However, on a more
critical note Gatiss’ script did nothing to quell criticisms over the
series’ forty-five minute episode format, as evidenced by his story’s
rapid conclusion. This sort of express train climax was also evident in
‘The End of the World’ and ‘Boom Town’: each single episode tales which
were forced to condense their narratives into around three quarters of
an hour screen time. Interestingly, a one-off instalment which avoided
squeezing too much telling into too little time was Paul Cornell’s
‘Father’s Day’, but more of that later.
One element of Series One which was certainly allowed to ferment was the
“Bad Wolf” story arc. This mystifying subplot was meticulously laid out
from a single line uttered in ‘The End of the World’, through a series
of visual and audio clues until its dramatic resolution in the
concluding moments of the last episode, ‘The Parting of the Ways’. Let
us not forget, however, that the classic series had its fair share of
themes and motifs, but they tended to be either quite obvious (e.g. ‘The
Key To Time’ and ‘The Trial of a Time Lord) or purely a backdrop to fuel
story lines (e.g. UNIT). In stark contrast “Bad Wolf” was rooted in
understatement and cryptic comments, potent forces in the hands of a
good writer. Its benefits were, at the very least, two-fold: first, it
allowed the viewer to dip into its mystery without weighing down the
episodes in which it appeared; second, it was substantial enough to
create an uncommon, neigh unfathomable conundrum which stimulated untold
theories and ideas. Interestingly, this style of finely balanced
subtlety owed more to the carefully woven story threads of US exports
such as ‘The X Files’ and ‘Lost’ than to the past efforts of classic
‘Who’, marking off yet another distinction between the new series and
its precursor.
As the “Bad Wolf” theme was steadily unraveled, the arrival of the
flatulence-inclined Family Slitheen saw the first two-part adventure,
and thus the first glimpse of a new series tale with a little more meat
on the bone. The skin-snatching Slitheen gave the fans the iconic
monster-in-a-human-disguise routine, but in typical new series fashion
the use of a zip to allow the Slitheen to remove their human skin-suits
mixed the alien with the ordinary. The Doctor watching a possible alien
invasion on a television news bulletin was another equally inspired
moment, and it was touches like these that gave Series One a shape and
style all of its own.
Another winning factor signposted in this particular adventure, also
evident throughout Series One, was the discarding of a much used classic
series tool: the re-set button. In writing jargon, the re-set button
enables each story to begin as though the events in the previous tale
did not take place. This allows any hangovers from the previous outing
to be wiped away before the subsequent instalment begins. Series One
firmly put the re-set button on hold, and Rose’s return to the Powell
Estate at the beginning of ‘Aliens of London’ was a case in point. Her
sudden arrival after a year’s absence – a missing person for all intents
and purposes – came as a bombshell to her family and friends, causing a
commotion the likes of which was rarely if ever seen in the classic
series. More, without the re-set button the Doctor was forced to
confront the consequences of his actions with no holds barred,
signalling a much wider territory to be explored in his actions and
motives.
Still, not every aspect of ‘Aliens of London’ and its concluding part
‘World War Three’ was faultless. The Family Slitheen’s regular bouts of
farting gave some fans the distinct impression that they were watching a
poor – and unoriginal – example of a children’s comedy show, and the
plot resolution was formulaic and disappointing – particularly so given
the largely excellent opening half. It is worth noting, however, that
when the sole surviving member of the Family Slitheen re-surfaced a few
episodes later in ‘Boom Town’ the fart gag was all but nonexistent – an
indication, perhaps, that the new series production team was quick to
learn from its mistakes.
In the event the dispatching of the Slitheen turned out to be a mere
starter course in comparison to the classic series returnee that raised
its malignant sink plunger in the next episode. Robert Shearman’s script
‘Dalek’ was a tightly packed affair which witnessed the return of
Skaro’s exterminator extraordinaire alongside a convincing new villain
in the form of Henry van Statten. In an unexpected twist Shearman’s
story also managed to provoke feelings of sympathy towards the Dalek in
question, as well as allowing the Time War-weary Ninth Doctor to finally
step out of the shadow of his dark past and to stand in the sun once
more – a point literally reflected in his arch enemy’s final living wish
to feel sunlight upon its bare flesh.
Crucially, ‘Dalek’ became the pivot around which Series One rotated its
thirteen pieces. Pre-‘Dalek’ the series had yet to punch its weight and
the jury was still out on whether it could match its illustrious
twentieth century forebear. Post-‘Dalek’ the judgement was returned and
the answer was in the affirmative. Not every devotee of Time Lords past
agreed with this answer, but in the eyes of the viewing public the
verdict was more than justified.
Shearman’s script also introduced the ultimately witless Adam Mitchell,
a short-lived companion who proved useful in illustrating an intriguing
time travel question: If you could travel in time, would you dip into
the future and use that knowledge to influence your present? This
dangerous lure was placed before Adam in the course of ‘The Long Game’,
a chilling adventure which quietly set the scene for the series finale.
In the event Adam could not resist the chance to use his knowledge of
the future – specifically the development of the computer – and became
unstuck in a fairly serious way. Interestingly, the Doctor was content
for Adam to learn the lesson of his mistake in no uncertain terms,
demonstrating a hard edge to his ninth persona which no amount of
Dalek-based catharsis could wash away. Such carefully guided
characterisation was evident throughout Series One – a point clearly
demonstrated by the depth given to Adam in the space of just two
episodes. Before 2005 the notion of a well realised companion coming and
going in the space of barely ninety minutes would have been laughed out
of fandom. After 2005 the rules on character development had been
rewritten, due in the main to two greatly expanded commodities: time and
money.
In similar fashion Paul Cornell gave us an insightful piece of
character-driven writing in ‘Father’s Day’, the story which, after the
mini epic of ‘Dalek’ and the more traditional monster-fest of ‘The Long
Game’ returned the viewer’s attention to the ongoing narrative of Rose.
In spending time on another temptation of time travel – whether to
deliberately cross one’s own time line and change the past – Cornell
delved into the nuts and bolts of the Tyler family with a temporal
flourish, thus giving the new wave of ‘Doctor Who’ followers the chance
to consider an important time travel conundrum. In short, less action
and more thought furnished this episode with a considered, unhurried
feel, further hiking up Cornell’s already sizable standing within fandom
in the process.
The arrival of Steven Moffat’s first ‘Doctor Who’ script brought with it
the second two-part tale of the series: ‘The Empty Child’ and ‘The
Doctor Dances’. In spite of a horde of gas-masked zombies, and more dark
shadows than you could shake a Dalek at, Moffat’s story telling was a
finely crafted work propelled by mishap rather than monster. A set of
mistaken – for want of a better word – nanogenes re-writing human DNA
made for an original slice of science fiction which, coupled with the
début of Captain Jack Harkness, had just about every ingredient in the
box to make it one of the best examples of new ‘Who’.
The next self-contained effort, and another penned by Davies, was ‘Boom
Town’, the story which saw the return of Blon Slitheen and a further
spin on the Ninth Doctor’s edgier persona. In spite of an effects-laden
time rift opening up in present-day Cardiff, and the odd mini chase
sequence, the focus of the story involved a moral clashing of swords
between the Time Lord and his Slitheen prisoner on the sobering subject
of capital punishment. Although Davies’ resorting to a deus ex machina
ending rather spoilt an otherwise solid plot, the dinner discourse
between the Doctor and Blon was a polished mini-masterpiece and provided
yet more character-driven food for thought. Importantly, this powerful
scene was yet another nail in the coffin of the claim that the new
series’ format was simply too rushed to offer much in the way of serious
dialogue and character development. In point of fact, ‘Boom Town’
presented a moral debate as good as any in the classic series, and one
which served a vital function in revealing a Doctor who must confront
the results of his actions.
One of the marks of a good piece of story telling is a satisfying finish
which wraps up any loose ends and yet still leaves us wanting more.
Series One managed exactly that in an explosive two-part finale which
saw the “Bad Wolf” theme explained, a set piece battle sequence
involving countless levitating Daleks, a god-like Dalek Emperor intent
on re-fashioning the Dalek race, and a brave and impetuous Rose
absorbing the Time Vortex. On top of which the Earth was saved, Rose was
rescued and the Doctor regenerated in a blaze of fiery energy which was
enough to take your breath away.
And there we have it. In the course of barely three months Series One
transformed ‘Doctor Who’ from a relic of the past into a cutting edge
twenty-first century venture. Of course, the most ardent of fans was
quite sure of this point all along. However, persuading Joe Public of
the fact required something a little more convincing than a good dose of
nostalgia and a visit to the ‘Doctor Who’ exhibition in Blackpool.
Through the Ninth Doctor and Rose Tyler ‘Doctor Who’ was re-sold to the
masses, demonstrating beyond doubt that Sydney Newman’s brainchild was
as relevant to 2005 as it was to a dark November teatime in 1963. And,
moreover, their continuing legacy has helped to spawn a marketing boom
and two largely well received spin-off series – which is not to mention
the BBC’s recent statement of commitment to ‘Doctor Who’ for some years
to come. Indeed, fantastic really does sum it all up.
©
Copyright Jez Strickley & Doctor Who Online, 2011. |