MY NOTES ON THE DOCTOR

As a few may know, I am working my way through the entirety of nearly 50 years of British television show, Doctor Who.  I am doing this in order to gain knowledge and credentials for the purpose of writing, and submitting for publication, a Doctor Who novel.  Upon completion, I will be submitting my manuscript to Random House UK for their very popular and active Doctor Who novel series.

                As I have been exposed more and more to the show, I have encountered a great many items involving its fandom.  There seems to be an enmity between “true” fans – those who identify themselves as fans of the “entire” show – and “new” fans – those of us here in America who were only exposed to the show beginning with its 2005 revival.  “True” fans claim that “new” fans are somehow less than themselves due to the limited exposure to the show.  Where this may be a valid point, I’m sure it doesn’t lessen the enthusiasm the “new” fans feel for what they have seen.  “True” fans beat their drums and hail praises to the fourth Doctor (played by Tom Baker).  This is the actor they consider to be the ultimate Doctor.  It is also the era of the show that “true” fans consider the most amazing.  “New” fans, however, sing their praises to the tenth Doctor (played by David Tennant).

                I have to admit, I throw my lot in with that second bunch.  However, unlike many of them, mine is an educated vote.  Not many Americans have even seen any of the show prior to 2005.  Though I am still making my way through the entirety of the series, I have managed to complete my viewing of all episodes available from Tom Baker’s reign as the very singular Doctor.  I have also forged ahead into the fifth Doctor (played by Peter Davison), and it is my comparison between the fourth and fifth Doctors (as opposed to the 4th and 10th) that really explains why I think the Tom Baker years just didn’t have the quality that many of its supporters will defend to their graves. 

                When the series first began back in 1963, television was still very new and still not predicted to become the big business, significant life fixture we know of today.  Because of this, shows were very low budget.  Filming was still done in black and white, and the concept of “television acting” had still not come about.  When television began, you had film acting and stage acting.  In stage acting, one has to project the voice in order to be heard by the entire audience.  As a result, a stage actor cannot affect much in the way of tone and inflection to convey the subtle moods, feelings and emotions that are nowadays essential to the intimate development of character.  The same can be said of subtle facial expressions, the very intimate expression in the eyes and small gestures.  None of these could even be seen from the audience of a stage production, and so they were not used.  Instead, you had booming voices, exacting over-exaggerated gestures and animated facial expressions; oratory and over-acting.  To experience a story performed in this manner is very much like having it told to you.  For instance, an actor’s words and large acting might say to you, “the Doctor was anxious for his companion’s safety” by using a larger than life worried expression along with a stiff extended arm, a flourish of the hand and a booming “nooooooo!!!”

                For film, however, through the use of close-ups and microphones, actors could speak in low tones and whispers, using a full range of tone and inflection.  Nothing would be missed.  Also, small gestures could be seen and any emotion could be clearly read on the face – if the actor was particularly skilled with acting with facial expression.  Not many are adept at it.  Because of all this, a film audience could experience the story WITH the characters, instead of the characters telling them about it.  For the scenario above – the Doctor being anxious for the safety of his companion – it might be more effectively conveyed by the simple closing of the Doctor’s eyes after a cloud of fear crossed them.  He might even increase the labor of his breathing.  This intimacy speaks far louder of the Doctor’s feelings for his companion than the description of how it might have been done on stage.  This creates a kind of characterization that stage acting never could.

                This all being said, when television began, there was no such thing as a television actor.  With the exception of comedians, not many film actors did television, and so all you had to work with was stage actors, acting on television the only way they knew how – like they would in a stage production.   Since it started that way, not many people ever got the idea to do it any differently until the dramas of the 1980’s…and that period of stage acting for television includes Tom Baker and his performances as the Doctor.

                In my observations, Baker’s physical acting was most often stiff and awkward in scenes where his blocking brought him into close quarters with other actors.  He seemed to bend only at the major joints; always seeming posed, and therefore, not natural.  His voice and demeanor were always confident and in charge, even in scenes where he was supposed to be frightened or confused.  Nothing at all in his facial expressions or body language ever gave me the impression that he felt anything at all for any of his companions.  They were an incidental attachment, at best, and occasionally he would get angry with them, or they would amuse him.  For the most part, however, they were there to get into trouble so he could do heroic things.  I never got the impression he rescued any of them because he cared for them.  It was more like a responsibility, like keeping track of his watch.  He most often delivered his lines like an orator giving a speech, and I rarely got the impression that what he was saying matched in any way what he was feeling.  The fourth Doctor was like an actor, acting.  In all of this, Tom Baker’s Doctor was a very limited character.  Doctor Who, during these years, could only be enjoyed on the surface level of looking through a window.  I was being told a plot story only, because there was scant characterization.  I may as well have been reading the news.  It had no warmth.  No heart.  Even in Baker’s final scene – fallen from a tower, injured badly enough to regenerate…facing his faithful companions – he was as calm and casual as if ordering a slice of pizza. 

                When the fifth Doctor arrived, however, all of this changed.  It was 1981, and television producers were catching onto the idea that a camera and microphones could let them sink more intimately into characterization, thus enhancing the experience for viewers.   Peter Davison still delivered many of his lines in the manner of an actor who was acting, but he was making significant strides in delivering his lines like a guy talking instead of an actor, acting.  He was more fluid and graceful in his blocking and body language and most definitely an improvement over Baker in the area of facial acting.  Beginning with the episodes featuring the 5th Doctor, I was suddenly able to enjoy the stories because, in addition to plot, there was also characterization.   Never before had the episodes included storyline involving the relationships between the Doctor and his companions, or even how he felt about them.  With the possible exception of the second Doctor, never before had the Doctor exhibited any sign of emotional or character vulnerability.  With the exception of the Doctor’s “granddaughter” – the very first companion of the show – the Doctor had never embraced any of his companions.

                There is a scene from an episode called “The Black Orchid” in which one of the three companions was in danger of being thrown off a building by a murderer.  On one side was the Doctor, trying desperately to talk the murderer into letting Nyssa go.  On the other side was the murderer’s brother, trying to do the same.  Once the girl was released, she ran to the Doctor, who folded her into a very relieved embrace with closed eyes and body language that indicated how scared he’d been and how much he cherished his friend.  There was genuine emotion in this gesture that no Doctor prior to the fifth had ever displayed.

                The fifth Doctor is far more approachable and much less the unflaggable figurehead leader.  He’s more on the journey WITH his companions, instead of in spite of them.  They argue.  They have anxious times.  They worry…and for once, the Doctor is doing it all along with them.   He’s still the leader, but he’s also, for lack of a more appropriate word, human.  David Tennant, as the tenth Doctor, has been the quintessential, consummate actor in the role, allowing viewers to not only see the Doctor’s soul and psyche laid bare and naked, but also to finally see a side of the Doctor that had never before been explored…his capacity for romantic love.

                But the fifth Doctor is where it began to turn around.  I have not yet seen the sixth, seventh or eighth Doctors, and so I cannot yet state that the acting progressed steadily between Doctors 5 and 9, but five sure is off on the right foot.  He was the first Doctor to lose a companion to death.  He was the first Doctor to behave in a familiar and casual manner with his companions.  He was the first Doctor to exhibit humility and vulnerability.  He was also the first Doctor to bend more frequently to the advice or suggestions of his companions. 

                A final memorable scene from Davison’s fifth Doctor that places Baker’s fourth Doctor into stiff, 2-dimensional relief was a scene from an episode called “The Visitation”.   With Baker, if he ever had to grapple with a female character, it would most often be at arm’s length, gripping wrists.  At most intimate, he might place a hand over her mouth or restrain her awkwardly from behind.  In the Davison scene, however, his companion, Tegan, was under alien control via a device around her wrist.  In a swift and fluid motion, the Doctor approached, dipping down then swooping up to catch her in a restraining embrace from the front.  With his whole body, he forced her toward the wall, then snaked his arms around to both avoid her attack and relieve her of the wrist device.  What’s more, this maneuver was not executed with mastery and control, as we may have seen with Baker.  Instead, Davison’s execution of the scene was with an air of “try and hope it works”, while at the same time saying with entreaty “I don’t have time to fight!” to Tegan as he wrestled the device away.

                I apologize to all the diehard Baker fans out there.  It’s not that I didn’t enjoy watching him, but due to the conventions of the day, television making methods and technologies, character-less scripting and minimal directing, he simply came across and two-dimensional.  On my meter of enjoyment for the full experience of watching a Doctor Who episode, he comes in not only under David Tennent (10) and Christopher Eccleston (9), but also below Peter Davison (5). 

                For the curious, my full rating of Doctors is as follows (with the exception of Doctors 6-8, which I haven’t see yet):

10

9

5

4

2

1

3

11  – yes, 11 is at the bottom of the list!

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