|
Tuesday, 25 April 2006 |
By Pippa Sheppard
 When I was growing up, many things were essential discussion topics in the school playground: Was George from Rainbow a boy or a girl? Do magic torches like Jamie’s really exist? Why can’t you reach under a bench and find a perfect model you made earlier when following a Blue Peter make? Who was the scariest baddie in Doctor Who?
For me, it was always the Daleks. Way back in the 70’s, the highlight of my week was fighting my sister for the cushions in order to hide behind them when watching Doctor Who. With my child’s mind, if the Daleks couldn’t see me, I was safe. I loved the Doctor, he was an alien, a time traveller, and he didn't die because he regenerated into someone else. He always, always found a way out of trouble despite being stuck in the most frightful of cliff-hangers on a weekly basis. But his enemies were the reason I watched the programme. That, and K9!
Excitement mingled with anticipation and fear as the Cybermen or Daleks or one of the other terrifying world-destroying enemies attacked. The cushions on our sofa were well used! Our glee and astonishment shone through when the Doctor once again proved victorious (and we suddenly developed amnesia about the need for the use of the cushion).
We didn’t notice the wobbly sets, the men beneath the obvious costumes, or the fact that the Dalek weapon was really a sink plunger. We were immersed in a world of terror and joy, and we loved every minute of it. We watched Doctor after Doctor come and go, and changed our favourite Doctor with each regeneration. We fell in love with, or loathed, the companions, and we begged our parents for a K9 dog (our own flesh and bone dogs just weren't good enough after K9!). We worried that the Earth would be invaded, and we would be exterminated without a care. But, above all, we escaped worries of real life for 45 minutes a week and bonded as sisters, and as a family.
And then, suddenly, it was gone. Doctor Who was cancelled! My sister matured and moved on to other TV genres. I stayed a geek and immersed myself into the programmes and films that came and went over the years. I watched, and loved, all the generations of Star Trek, I eagerly flocked to the cinema to see Star Wars. I embraced Battlestar Galactica, Babylon 5 and Stargate SG1, and I'm still grieving over the loss of Farscape. But it was Doctor Who that began my love of Science Fiction.
Yet I was sceptical when I learned of the planned return of this iconic programme. Other remakes or renewals of classics had failed to impress me some had downright infuriated me and I had little hope for the new Doctor Who being any different. I was nervous and sick to my stomach: was my childhood memory about to be destroyed forever? Hope began to burn when I learned of the casting of Christopher Eccleston, and then died again when news broke about the casting of Billie Piper as his companion. How could an ex-teen popstar ever hope to be a serious companion to the Doctor? I expected to hate the new Doctor Who...
I was pleasantly surprised! This new Doctor had a Northern accent (always a plus when you also have a Northern accent) and a wicked sense of humour. His comic timing and tongue in cheek, matter of fact delivery won me over. And Billie, as Rose, proved to be an inspired choice. Rose is feisty, modern, intelligent, and far from the helpless companions of old.
This is a new Doctor Who. A funnier Doctor Who. The show shines with the typical British sense of poking fun at itself, and not taking itself too seriously, while being totally serious and totally entertaining all at the same time. This Doctor has fun, while also acknowledging the tragedy of life.
So what if the monsters are no longer scary? I've grown up, and no longer get scared at these enemies attacking my hero. I admit to a little sadness at this revelation; I think I prefer being the scared child but I now have the adult appreciation of the fear and danger that the Doctor faces instead, which is a consolation. But the cushions in my home are still used. A new generation has discovered the joy of the Dalek, and my daughter now sits and hides her face whenever one shows it’s face (or plunger).
And so a generation gap has been filled. The children of yesteryear watch the programme with the children of today. One with fond memories rekindled, the other with new memories forged. Doctor Who is, once again, must see TV and Saturday evenings are once again something to anticipate.
As Season 2 begins in the UK, with yet another Doctor to get to know and love, my daughter and I will sit huddled together on our sofa (and my sister and her children will be on theirs), and once again, the cushions will be fought over as the scary aliens appear. And maybe, just maybe, a new generation of Sci Fi lovers will be born... |
|
|
