Tag Archives: Whovians

Kill him off…

Oh, please, just let him die.

Let the Doctor get the TARDIS, sans a companion, into some unimaginable confluence of positive and negative energy, or, let there be some huge mashup of time and space, or, take him back to the beginning of the universe [because you’ve already done the end of it] or plop him in the middle and have there be no way out.

And let it be the end! Kill him off. Let him die. Please.

I know there are rants about the fans, their slavish devotion to quoting the Doctor in any real life situation. Or, their need to constantly proclaim that he is the BEST character in fifty years. Google search whovians are stupid and you’ll be amazed at what you get. They can rant all they want, either as fans or as non-fans, that’s not my point.

Peter Capaldi do a good job in the role, such as it is, god <small g, of course> help him! Just as I’m sure that the fans will go gonzo over him, such as they are, and there is no god, <capital or small g> that can help them. But that’s just the point. The fans, on both sides of the telly screen are daft, cockeyed, hair brained.

Watching the Before debut of the twelfth, or really the thirteenth, if you count John Hurt, I realized what truly annoyed me was the obsession with detail of the particulars of the Doctors’ lives by those who are writing the show. To me, that’s the problem. The writers [huge fans themselves] are abusing the Doctor’s legacy. It is with them that I am most put out. I mean, come on, could they not come up with something that was new, [I’m sure 90% of the fans watched this episode and knew immediately that they were on the inside. Posh!] something that was not was a recast of the Doctor #10 or #11 [sigh, again with the counting thing and poor John] adventure on the Madam de Pompadour?   Did Doctor #12 or #13, depending on whether or not you want to count old John. have to refer back to the original set and the round things on the wall of the TARDIS?

When I first started to watch it, yes it was the early/mid seventies, it was hokey and the special effects were considerably less than amazing, and I loved it. The quirkiness, the élan of the Doctor, on a channel not often watched, was exciting and different. Who every heard of someone regenerating, not reincarnating, not being immortal, but re-generating. Who ever would have thought?

I have a mug, and the TARDIS disappears when hot water is poured into it, probably dates back to the late seventies. I bought it at a fund raiser for the PBS station in LA. My enchantment and delight with Dr. Who started before that time. I have the books too!

Wait. I don’t need to qualify. Whether I have watched it for a short time or a long time, I am here to simply state, I am done with the Doctor. Yes, that’s it, he’s off my DVR, I won’t Goggle the episodes. Done. No recording and watching later. Finito!  Why? Because once you break that fourth wall, once you have the character in on the joke [probably THE most annoying part], once you keep a character going simply because, because he’s fifty years old [don’t be pushy, the character is not fifty, but the show is], because you think you can write cool stuff and actors can act cool, well, then, that’s when you know you’ve let him live too long.

Don’t even get me started on the companions. Sheez!  Really? The Impossible Girl? Leave it, just leave it.

And, please stop calling them Whovians. Sounds like something out of Dr. Seuss!

Whovians

Wow. Fifty years, seems like too long a period of time and still wow!  I love stories about how we came to have post-it notes from 3M. Or how cranberry juice overcame the faux cancer scare of the 1950s to become a product that is on the shelves 365 days per year. The business person in me loves the stories of paper clips, 3D printers, BIC lighters, glow sticks. Who comes up with this stuff? Sometimes we know, sometimes we don’t. There are literally hundreds of stories of some brilliant person who came up with a very simple fix and a product or idea wormed its way into our consciousness and stayed.

Case in point.  William Hartnell was ill, not doing well, couldn’t continue in the BBC show, Dr. Who. the program was a hit. BBC didn’t want to let it go. To replace Hartnell had to be believable and entertaining, not just putting in one actor for the same part and pretending he was the same person, Bewitched comes to mind. Dr. Who was alien, a Time Lord, not like us humans at all, except maybe in his outward appearance. And so we have ‘regeneration’. Brilliant! I hope the person who came up with this idea was paid a huge sum, probably not, but still. And now we’re at fifty years and counting. We’ve had eleven doctors, ten regenerations, and we’re about to have another. Cool, very cool.

But it is annoying. Because we’ve taken a fantastic story device and made it all mystical and literary, deep and mysterious. For heaven’s sake, we have Neil Gaiman [who is hot right now in the fantasy/scifi world, and is just plain hot] talking about the Dr. Who character as if we’ve discovered the cure for cancer. It’s all so Marshall McLuhen, the ‘medium is the message’. It’s less about the doctor and more about the Knowings, those in the know who are supposedly on the inside of the show. These Knowings make a name for themselves and possibly even money, talking about how wonderful and unique it all is, all the parts as they come together. There’s a whole cottage industry of Whovians. They even have a place in the Oxford English Dictionary.

They analyze the doctor. What he represents to us. What we see in this alien who can come and come again. What each actor brings to the doctor and how each imbues the role with his own special and unique flair.

POSH! And, I say that with the utmost sincerity. Posh. It’s no longer about the story. It’s about the humans who are his companions. And the humans are, in many ways the mirror of the doctor, but he never seems to be able to come to this conclusion. Sort of reminds me of Plato’s Cave. Those shadows, those reflections, they are not real life. And, we have no capacity to figure that out.