The Other Show on BBC
It’s official: America has Downton Abbey fever. You can’t open a newspaper or visit a culture/books website without reading about how Downton Abbey is revitalizing PBS, or affecting the publishing industry, or reflecting poorly on our “class-stratified” military. This interest is all for the good. I agree with Emily Nussbaum, who writes in the New Yorker that Downton Abbey “is situated precisely on the Venn diagram where ‘prestige’ meets ‘guilty pleasure’: it’s as much cake as it is bread.” (Though I have to disagree with Nussbaum’s adoration of Lady Edith, who not only is the show’s weakest link, but is generally acknowledged to be so by characters within the show itself.)
I want to talk briefly about a different British TV show, however, one that has gotten some publicity in the U. S. but hasn’t captured the popular imagination in the way that Downton Abbey has. If Downton Abbey allows us to figuratively travel to a different time, then the show I’m talking about features literal time travel; if the posh characters of Downton Abbey seem alien to us nowadays, then the show I’m talking about has actual aliens from faraway planets; if Downton Abbey straddles the line between high and low culture, then the show I’m talking about obliterates this line altogether, showing that the most condescended-to of genres, science fiction/fantasy, can create lasting, affecting stories. I’m talking about Doctor Who.
Doctor Who is, at this point, a British institution: it’s aired on the BBC since 1963, with a long hiatus in the 1990s. The show re-booted in 2005, and since then it has been arguably the most enjoyable show on television. It follows the adventures of the unnamed Doctor, a time-traveling, humanoid alien from the future, as he journeys through time and space, regularly saving Earth and other planets and civilizations from harm. The Doctor generally travels with a human companion who, by some accident of fate, has been saved by the Doctor and grows to love him and his mission. They get around by way of the TARDIS, a time machine disguised as a blue police box that is much bigger on the inside than on the outside.
I realize that this all sounds ridiculous and campy, and the show realizes this, too: it regularly jokes about its own absurdities and makes fun of the bad special effects that plagued its earlier days. (Critical and popular success have helped increase the show’s budget, and the special effects are now movie-level quality.) But somehow, all these elements—time travel and aliens and things that go bump in the night—mesh together perfectly. You care about the characters, you care about the plot, you even care about its disquisitions on the nature of time. (One example: “People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it’s more like a big bowl of wibbly wobbly timey wimey … stuff.”)
The main reason the show works so well is because of the acting of the Doctors. I say “doctors” and not “doctor” because there is a wrinkle: the Doctor has the ability to regenerate once he has been mortally wounded, emerging with a new body and disposition, though with the same soul. Or something like that. The details of regeneration are sketchy, and you just have to accept the regenerating process for what it is—a way for the Doctor to escape death and for the show to get a new actor to play the character.
Since the re-boot in 2005, there have three different Doctors, each with his own virtues. Christopher Eccleston, the first Doctor in the new series, looked like a soccer hooligan, complete with shaved head and leather jacket. When we first met him, he was prone to brooding and was a bit of a curmudgeon; by the end of his only season, he had warmed up, thanks in large part to his companion, Rose. The next Doctor and my favorite, David Tenant, was like a Shakespearean tragic hero—intense, dark, noble. (Unsurprisingly, he was brilliant as Hamlet in a recent production of the play.) Matt Smith, the current Doctor, is madcap and childlike, buzzing with energy and unpredictability.
Beyond the inspired acting of the Doctors, though, the show works so well not in spite but because of its time-traveling premise. We get to meet figures from the distant past and from the unthinkably distant future; we get to see Pompei the day before it was buried, Venice during the Renaissance, London during Queen Victoria’s reign and during the Blitz, and a far distant time when the universe is slowly dying from cosmic expansion. We meet, among others, Charles Dickens, Winston Churchill, Richard Nixon, Shakespeare, Vincent Van Vogh … The list goes on.
Doctor Who, with its inherently episodic nature, is like a nineteenth-century romance. It has a catholic (that is, universal) sensibility: the show’s main argument is that every creature, whether human or alien, in every time, whether ancient Roman or many millennia into the future, matters absolutely. It makes a strong claim about the dignity of all life in all times, but does so in a way that never sacrifices narrative enjoyment.
For those interested in giving this great show a shot, I suggest starting with Series 5 (2010), the first season with the current Doctor, Matt Smith. The production value is really high, and Smith’s Doctor is a delightfully zany introduction to the world of the show. Then, after watching up to the present, go back to Series 1 (2005), and move forward.
I have been a fan of Doctor Who since the summer of 1984. While the current version is not a total “reboot” it is just enough of a change to make it enjoyable for the long time fan and the first time viewer. Think of it as a sci-fi version of Sherlock Holmes with a hint of Agatha Christie and a dash of Stephen King and you will have this show.
Originally, the series was under the children’s division of the BBC. And the shows did have that “Saturday Morning” childrens breakfast feel to it. I am glad that the new version acknoledges its audience has grown up.
After watching Matt Smith’s version of the Doctor, I do agree to start with Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant-they are more in tune with the old show. Then find copies of the “original” show, starting at the beginning with William Hartnell on through to Sylvester Mccoy.
If there is one thing that can be said of the entire franchise, is that it did not insult its audience. Like Jesus, the Doctor hates hypocracy in all its forms and invites anyone to join in the ride (besides, the TARDIS is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside).
(For those who did not understand-watch the show and you will).
Thanks for the review. I enjoyed it.
Dr. Who has been part of the landscape for most of my TV viewing life (and I’m pushing 60), but this makes me willing to give it another shot. I was a late-comer to “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” and when I finally did pick it up, loved it.
Thanks for the review, if not all the fish.
(With toungue firmly in cheek)
Jean,
Dont you wish sometimes when someone “tries” to explain the faith, you wanna just scream “NO IT’S 42″….or is that just me.
Have not watched the show in many years, but this review renews my interest. Have you read that the next Dr. Who may be a woman?
Sean, I only want to scream “42″ when Raber wants to ‘splain the historical development of some theological point by beginning, “To understand this, we have to go back to the time of Constantine …”
At such times, I put on my Expression of Wifely Interest and surreptiously check my watch because, frankly, I am not getting any younger, and listening to more than 15 minutes of this kind of thing is a serious erosion of my remaining “me time.”
Sherlock Holmes mixed with Agatha Christie and Stephen King–that’s a perfect description of Doctor Who, Sean. And you’re absolutely right about it not insulting the intelligence of its audience. Almost once an episode, there’s a moment where I think to myself, “Another show would have just devoted 10 minutes to boring exposition, but Doctor Who gets through it in 30 seconds and expects the viewer to figure stuff out on his/her own.” In that way, it reminds me of The Wire.
Jean, I still haven’t given “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” a shot; I have to do that soon.
I hadn’t heard about the possibility of a female Doctor, Lauretta. Personally, I’d love to see Donna Noble (the Doctor’s companion from a few years ago, played by the amazing Catherine Tate) somehow come back as a Time Lord.
Fascinating how pop culture has become a can’t-live-without of the chattering classes. When did that start, and why? Comic books are studied in the academy; Julliard graduates play in rock bands; NPR pontificates over sports. Amusing ourselves to death on the down escalator.
David –
Sometimes highly popular art is later recognized as great art. See, e.g., Shakespeare, Dickens, Verdi.
David, most high cultural experiences (such as your favorite, online commenting) are simply too far out of reach for most of us philistines, who must instead satisfy ourselves with the baser meats in the cultural stew.
Zadie Smith is too highbrow, Doctor Who is too lowbrow–I swear, David, one of these days I’ll find something that is just right!
Anthony, I resisted “Hitchhiker” largely b/c of the cult following it had and the hyperbole of the blurbs on the covers of various editions of the book.
But it manages to combine some sharp satire with good-natured silliness. There’s a review on my blog, which I keep strictly for my own amusement and as a memory aid, so forgive errors, please. Too often I get a book that sounds interesting only to realize I’ve read it before! Gotta love old age!
http://thegrimreader.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-celebrate-30th-anniversary-of.html
I thought “Hitchhiker’s Guide” was a perfect companion to Doctor Who, particularly since Douglas Adams was a script editor of Doctor Who during the Tom Baker era.
Ann, I’ve seen “Doctor Who”. “Doctor Who” isn’t Verdi. Not within a light year of Dickens. Not in the same universe as Shakespeare.
Shakespeare, Dickens, and Verdi were popular art in cultures far different from our own. Our popular culture has got to be about as far down the ladder as humanity is likely to descend, short of unadulterated barbarism.
My apologies, Anthony. I seem to be suffering from an overabundance of bile.
I’ve watched “Doctor Who”. Cute camp.
David –
I”ve never watched a whole Dr. Who all the way through, so I do doubt that it’s Shakespeare. But I also doubt that i bring to it the sensibility needed to appreciate it. Must say Anthony’s enthusiasm makes me willing to try it once more.
I must also say that I don’t appreciate Dickens. Still given how many people love him, I must admit that there must be a lot there, even though I miss it. Actually, I think the problem is that I dislike the man Dickens that shows through his writing. I think he’s manipulative, money-grubbing, and ultimately contemptuous of his readers. (Shakespeare is NEVER like that! He never patronizes anyone.) I don’t care how observant and funny Dickens is, I don’t like the man, so I don’t read his books. I don’t even *want to want* to read him (unlike, say, Trollope).
Is there anything you approve of whole-heartedly? I get the feeling that what you most enjoy is trashing things.
Thanks for the recommendation, Jean, and for the link to your great blog. (And what a name it has!) I was happy to see you liked Swamplandia! so much.
Thanks. “Swamplandia!” was wonderful, and I heard about it here first.
Did you go to DeathClock.com to determine your personal death day? Mine is Nov. 23, 2032. It’s a handy tool for putting things in perspective. I recalculated my personal death date as if I had lost the 20 pounds my doctor wants me to to, and the date didn’t change. Makes having dessert with those rare restaurant meals less guilt-inducing.
Ann, it’s not constructive to like everything a little. Most of the output of the human mind is awful stuff, and no amount of dissecting and categorizing and rationalizing can turn it into something better. Autolobotomies are probably very useful in tranquilizing the human spirit, making us good neighbors, congenial colleagues, and compliant citizens, but they do considerable damage to the inner malcontent that keeps the pot of human renewal bubbling.
Of course, you can easily have too much of that if all you’re trying to do is have a nice, civil conversation among well-educated friends. I understand. Pax.
“Autolobotomies are probably very useful in tranquilizing the human spirit, making us good neighbors, congenial colleagues, and compliant citizens, but they do considerable damage to the inner malcontent that keeps the pot of human renewal bubbling.”
And I’m guessing that the heroic inner malcontent and agent of human renewal in this highly subjective and fevered scenario is represented by none other than (cue fanfare) …
Actually a similar idea was the basis of another classic Brit series, “The Prisoner,” in which the bellicose (and very dishy) hero, Patrick McGoohan, is subjected to all sorts of surreal brainwashing techniques to which he refuses to submit or conform. The last episode of the series is painfully clunky, but the penultimate episode, where the prisoner turns the techniques on his captors is a masterpiece.
Interesting note: McGoohan was a devout Catholic in real life. He turned down the role of James Bond because of Bond’s sexual pecadilloes (and also the role of Dumbledore in Harry Potter). McGoohan and David Tomblin dreamed up the series while working on “Danger Man,” known here as “Secret Agent Man.” The series was very popular among us counter-culture types in the late 1960s. Which, of course, automatically relegates it to the Self-Absorbed Pile of Utter Crap in some quarters.
Jean –
I too am a great Patrick McGoohan fan. Long live The Prisoner! But he was also in one of the worst movies ever made, whose name I’ve repressed. I watched because it had a terrific plot. A jazz musician, happily married to a beautiful woman, is manipulated by an evil member of his group, to doubt her fidelity. Over the top, but the plot holds you.
We Gannons were happily addicted to Secret Agent and the Prisoner, too. In New York, PBS used to re-run “Secret Agent” for years on Saturday or Sunday afternoons from 5:00 to 6:00-ish, and our one luxury of the week as overworked graduate students and underpaid teachers who seemed to work around the clock, was to collapse in front of the set and watch it while noshing on chicken liver pate and sipping Madeira. Our young daughter sat there in her playpen, enthralled as John Drake took things apart and put them back together–rifles, cameras, his Philips shaver that was really a tape-recorder, various “bugs” he attached to the bottom of baddies’ cars, the lot. When the Prisoner came along, we still didn’t have a color TV, so we watched it first in black and white. I think it was actually the reason we bought a new set.
I found all 17 episodes of “The Prisoner” on Amazon, cheap used, for The Boys for Xmas last year.They weren’t too thrilled with it, but I thoroughly enjoyed the stroll down memory lane, right down to the mod costumes that were de rigeur in The Village.
At Anthony’s suggestion, I have Dr. Who’s fifth series on my wish list for next Xmas.
I did have one problem with The Prisoner. Kept thinking of The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy as the Prisoner? Naaah, that doesn’t work.
Which night does Dr. Who usually come on? I’ve been trying to find it, but have failed. I did see part of an episode some months back. I’m in the Central time zone.
Ann, I don’t think that Dr. Who is airing on tv now; when it does, I believe it’s on Saturday nights. But, for now, you can watch all of the episodes instantly on Netflix.