Saturday, August 1, 2015

Doctor Who and the Terror of Success

Perhaps it's a function of the social media era, but in many ways the ten years of Doctor Who since its 2005 return have been perhaps the most contentious of the show's entire history. For all the discussion the show generates, though, the return itself is often seems consigned to the periphery. While fans have noted various ten year anniversaries in recent months, such as the premiere of Rose or the debut of John Barrowman as Captain Jack, overall the first "new" season with Christopher Eccleston doesn't seem to get quite the same fan appreciation as more recent ones.

This tendency has always struck me as odd, because a decade after its premiere the 2005 season remains a high-point - arguably THE high-point - of the show's 21st century revival. This feeling crystallized for me a few years back when I tuned into a repeat showing of Eccleston's final episode on BBC America. Though I'd seen it numerous times and don't even think it's that season's best story, it symbolizes the excitement of the show's return for me like almost nothing that's come since.

As much as I've enjoyed Eccleston's successors, there's still something about that single season with him as the Doctor that continues to strike a deeper chord for me. Some of it is certainly Eccleston's portrayal - the way he perfectly conveyed the sense of an alien whose sense of human values was as deeply felt as it was slightly off from ours, but ultimately it's about the attitude driving it, especially that of head-writer Russell T. Davies. Though Davies continued to write (and foster the writing of) some excellent episodes, there was a sense of urgency to this season that they never quite recaptured.

In those first 13 episodes, the production team, especially Davies and his group of fans-turned-professional writers, seemed eager to prove that the television icon of their youth could still appeal to a wide audience in the 21st century. As Davies observed in the liner notes for the DVD release, "it was really the thought of creating something new, and getting new viewers, young viewers, which drove on that team."

The good news, as the BBC's decision to commission additional seasons almost immediately after the premiere indicated, was that they succeeded well beyond expectations. On the flip-side, as Davies' team had to make the transition from a go-for-broke exercise in defying expectations to an ongoing franchise, some of that initial verve seemed to dissipate. While they still delivered some great stories, there was also a sense of the flexible format turning into formula, a feeling compounded by the overuse of the Daleks and a string of un-involving stories pairing the Doctor with characters from history books.

It was a great paradox, far more mind-bending than anything in a Steven Moffat script. The team who fearlessly reinvented Doctor Who in a valiant effort to prove that mainstream TV drama could be bold as well as entertaining now seemed to be motivated by fear of alienating the mass audience that had embraced their initial approach so readily. It was as if they had been prepared to face any outcome except massive success, and by the end of David Tennant's and Russell T. Davies' run the show's production team seemed to trust their audience less and less to accept more challenging storylines. The practical result was an increasing number of stories came across as if all they felt they needed to do was come up with an earthshaking premise, usually involving the return of old friends and/or enemies, and didn't have to worry about the story all that much. Despite some renewed spark and a desire to push the bounds of serialized storytelling on Doctor Who, the Moffat/Smith era often fell into that same trap, even as the show's popularity spiked.

Not wishing to be a complete curmudgeon, I'll be the first to admit that, even during subpar stories, there were great compelling character moments to be had. Scenes like the Doctor's heartbreaking goodbye to Donna in Journey's End and virtually every onscreen moment shared by the Doctor and Bernard Cribbins as Wilfred in The End of Time were beautifully written and performed, but they seemed increasingly at odds with increasingly more frustrating plot-lines. Here again, this pattern was often repeated during Smith's tenure, and - despite being optimistic on balance - the jury is still out on the tandem of Moffat and Capaldi. 

Of course, none of that matters watching The Parting of the Ways. Whenever I see it, I remember how exciting it was to have the show I'd loved for so many back after so many years and in many ways better than ever, with Christopher Eccleston's Doctor being exactly the one I wanted even if I never could have imagined him in the role before I read about the casting. And if Doctor Who has failed to be quite so revolutionary in subsequent seasons, it diminishes neither the quality nor the value of the special set of episodes that guaranteed its future.











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