Matthew Jackson

SFX recently posted the results to a 'zombify Doctor Who' competition - a bollocksy idea, but nevertheless I rather liked this image. Albeit less because of its zombification, and more because I'm a sucker for slightly stylised, off-kilter takes on familiar designs. There's a new series Cyberman in the same style, too. 

The slightly souped-up costume also reinforces the impression that the series' own Martians could be easily and effectively updated for modern audiences, but without loosing their essence (cough, cough, à la shitty series five Silurians). 


Next Time: THE SARAH JANE ADVENTURES, SERIES FOUR

"Our troops will flood your rivers with the discarded shells of their nut rations!"

Review: HAPPY ENDINGS
New Adventure novel written by Paul Cornell, 1996

I adore the New Adventures novels, and though I realise a lot of that’s nostalgia for an adult-oriented take on Doctor Who, and for the manipulative, charming, morally conflicted Seventh Doctor – and Benny, Chris and Roz – the series forms one of my favourite (and formative) periods of Doctor Who. Equally, I do appreciate how shit a lot of the (especially earlier) books were. At best though, I love their intelligence, emotion, and that they didn’t have to bend over backward to accommodate a mainstream audience – at least when their basis in fandom was characterised by the understanding and investigation of the series displayed by Cartmel, Aaronovitch, and Orman, rather than a devolution into fanwank. Those are the authors I love best – the ones who can genuinely write, not the fan-pleasing ones like Gary Russell, Gareth Roberts or, yes, Paul Cornell.

Cornell’s righteous, right-on ‘bleeding heart liberal’ standpoint bugs the hell out of me, even if my sympathies (ie, environmental) are probably quite similar. With this novel’s little references to a late twentieth century environmental collapse, it’s all a little holier than thou and finger-wagging. (Not to mention his mystical, spiritual approach to the British seasons and country village.) Also, Cornell’s characters are all terribly, terribly nice, even the bad or questionable ones – which, in this book, amounts to a whopping two, Hamlet Macbeth and Alec Steel.

Having bashed Cornell - and despite never having liked his writing - though I feel I should hate this sort of indulgent romp, while Happy Endings may not be representative, it is a worthy celebration of the NAs. Based entirely around Bernice’s rush wedding to the dissolute Jason Kane from Death and Diplomacy, such an unashamedly fun and silly novel is inevitably never going to be seen as an ‘important’ story. But, it is still a million times better than the convoluted, po-faced, and surprisingly emotionally cold Shadows of Avalon (say). In fact, though I used to have a soft spot for this book way back when (Jesus, 1996 is a looong time ago), revisiting it as part of my mammoth Oxfam haul, I wasn’t sure what to expect – but I actually found it a great deal more likeable than even Love and War or (the novel version of) Human Nature. Perhaps because of their more serious intentions, Cornell’s ‘signature’ stories expose his prose limitations. He seems to have an unexpectedly surer touch at comedy – for example in the scenes told from the alternating, and clashing perspectives of Benny and Dr Watson’s respective diaries.

Having said this is a fun romp, it’s unfortunate that anyone who isn’t up to speed with the NAs (ie, particularly anyone who came to Doctor Who through the new series) would be as baffled as a casual viewer stumbling upon The Stolen Earth’s inclusion of Gwen, Ianto, Luke, et al. (And that’s even if they could even find a copy.) It’s so (deliberately) heavy with NA references and characters and loose ends that it’d probably be impenetrable. Although… as a kid, it was fun for precisely that reason, being able to launch myself into all this stuff I didn’t understand.

Not being an active completist (there’s loads of NAs I have no interest in bothering with) a lot of the characters here are still a bit of a mystery to me, or my only experience of them comes from this book (eg, the Ice Lord Savaar). But, in spite of a lot still going over my head, the book feels charmingly rather than disconcertingly full – there’s a lot of substance to the world the NAs created, which is very distinct from any other strand of Doctor Who. Something never equalled by, say, the Eighth Doctor BBC books – even down to references to NA future-history in the form of the Thousand Day War with Mars, or that this story is set in a period of recovery after the grim cyberpunk dystopia of Warhead and Iceberg is a pleasing link.

The whimsy of numerous aliens and time-travellers visiting a country village - especially for something as innocuous as a wedding - could be awfully twee, but fortunately it is very likeable. The nudity and shagging that’s thrown in helps, too.

Along for the ride (so to speak – not necessarily the shagging) are a chuckling Master; Saul the sentient church; Ace (aka Dorothée Sorin-McShane – who I definitely prefer in small doses, as in these later books); a particularly sardonic, centenarian Brigadier, along with Doris, and an elderly Benton and Yates; Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson; an Ice Warrior battlecraft; a unicorn; William Blake; Muldwych; a couple of gay Earth Reptile lounge singers; Leonardo da Vinci; the Travellers from Love and War; Audrey McShane; Kadiatu, with aM!xitsa disguised as an owl; two oversize gerbil reporters; Ishtar Hutchings (formerly the Timewyrm); Nathan Li Shou and Sgloomi Po (“Is maximum English muffin! Oh yes!”); Irving Braxiatel; and the Isley Brothers. Oh, and a couple of old, Dutch, lesbian dressmakers.

It’s so pleasing, meeting old friends again (though I hate it when Russell T Davies does it… repeatedly… because that’s not for a laugh; and just feels cheap and rating-hungry), and Cornell juggles the massive cast really well, so the book’s plotlessness doesn’t feel aimless. It’s surprisingly welcome to have a Doctor Who story with such a languid pace; a story set in the Doctor Who world, among recognisable, well-loved characters, but with no real conflict or plot getting in the way. (Notably, the setting of Cheldon Bonniface might as well be The Tides of Time’s Stockbridge, albeit with a Battlefield-like near-future veneer of an agricultural ‘Reconstruction,’ and (inconspicuous) references to automated night trains, electric cars and ten pound coins.)

Equally welcome is the conceit of one of the Doctors most capable of both humanity, but also one of the most alien, trying to do something as down to earth as organise a wedding in such a genteel environment - something that he doesn’t really understand. It’s a wonderful contrast to the often tedious insistence of the modern series to operate at a syncopated pace, to see the Doctor act as peacemaker between the bickering couple, providing plates of scones, taking the vicar out for an Italian meal, and even indulging in a nudist pagan ceremony. It’s those quieter, more down to earth moments (well, compared to Saving The Universe) that the Doctor is afforded in the novels that make me really miss them. They’re so much more rounded than the series’ insistence on unremitting crowd-pleasing.

The Seventh Doctor, the ‘odd little man’ – definitely an unusual hero – reminds me how much I prefer that approach to the Doctor, rather than a more predictable, young, good-looking, energetic, emotionally-entangled one in the mould of David Tennant. There is certainly something to be said for all those attributes, but it’s just so mundane, for the Doctor – he should be better, more interesting, less predictable than that. Cornell has an obvious love for the character which really lifts him above an often nothingy (or out and out bastard) portrayal in some of the more amateurish NAs. The tactility of his relationship with Benny and their obvious affection is lovely too.

Cornell is good at humour and emotion – the other stuff’s a bit blah – which is good, as that’s what this book comprises. It’s arch and quite postmodern, in the way a lot of the lighter NAs were – maybe that’s quite nineties, but it’s also very funny; lots of fairly filthy innuendo and deadpannery. And in spite of all that, the more typical Doctor Who plot elements, when they emerge, hang together almost unfeasibly well. The whole thing’s rather unfeasible, in fact – including the amount of enjoyment I derived from it. The book may revolve around a massive fan contrivance, but is more fun and less ‘unhealthy’ than that implies, just by being so unapologetically straightforward about it – it isn’t a tortuous sequel, just loads of memorable characters bunged into one place. The sheer reliance on past books for its cast (but not plot) makes recognising them all – or not – part of the joke. It even comes with a poem, a song, and cricket match!

The whole thing feels like a fun, throwaway joke – a big, silly wedding with loads of faces from the past – which’d be easy to dismiss as an apocryphal Dimensions in Time-like frivolity… But, actually, it really works, because with its energy, and the sheer amount of people (especially in the multi-author reception chapter) – it actually feels like what a real wedding should be like, and as such, doesn’t feel out of place in the series. And I actually felt very (emotionally) involved (ie, the Doctor’s plan to leave all his companions and slip off) - Cornell is very good at writing for the Brigadier, so the scene where he admits he’s dying is very moving. It manages to balance a refreshing lack of cynicism with a surprisingly realistic view of relationships.

All in all, Happy Endings can’t help but make me feel how tragic it is that the New Adventures never have or will be reprinted, so they only mean anything to one generation, and despite their influence, will be forgotten. However, the NA world may be a niche within a niche, but… it doesn’t mean any less for that. For what it’s worth, I love it.

Ten Stories #2: "He's got a printed circuit where his heart should be!"

Review: THE ICE WARRIORS
Written by Brian Hayles, directed by Derek Martinus, 1967

Especially in contrast to the audacity of The Chase, I increasingly can’t help feeling the Troughton era was went things started to go wrong for Doctor Who. Not that his era is bad – or that Doctor Who was ‘bad’ after the sixties generally – but, after the wildly varied and experimental Hartnell seasons, this was where reductive thinking started to mould the series into a more fixed format.

Both because Troughton’s so lovable and because so many of his stories are missing, negative feeling toward his years feels almost in bad taste, whereas Hartnell is less easily accessible, and, with more stories to judge, is more often considered fair game. This imbalance in critical feeling towards the two eras does seem somewhat unfair, cos Troughton’s era is so much less interesting…!

But – it’s still enormously exciting seeing a whole new Troughton (well, ‘whole’ in a manner of speaking). I tend not to distinguish between stories I know are completely missing, or are only lacking a couple of episodes, so in my head this story has always been filed ‘I will never see this’. But really, two episodes missing out of six is pretty good!

There are so few Troughtons that it’s easy to take him for granted, not having a great amount of variety to judge him on – but seeing him anew, in a new context, reinforces how fab he is (despite what I might think about his era as a whole). It’s also easy to forget what a massive leap he is from Hartnell (reminiscent of the Eccleston/Tennant handover). Troughton compares very strongly against Tennant, in fact (who isn’t a personal fave, but it’s great seeing a dusty old Doctor genuinely holding his own against the current mainstream one, the current benchmark); I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s just there tends to be so much hyperbole about the current incumbent. He’s so adorable that if you could put him in a story today people’d still love him. (As an aside, it’s interesting that the Doctor here considers himself a scientist – which seems remarkably mundane; now he’s a hero or champion, or even lost prince or lonely god.)

The story is a strong one from a production point of view: juxtaposing a period setting with futuristic trappings is always a striking visual device, and the combination of the manor and pop art printed-circuit costumes is very effective. Also, although this is a seemingly studio-bound story, we get a surprisingly good impression of the future ice age, with its caves and ice-falls. Despite the tell-tale squeak of polystyrene, the ice caves actually look impressively detailed (it helps they don’t have flat studio floors), while the creepy score helps give the story lashings of atmosphere. Also, Penley is a massively likeable character – when he meets the Doctor, it almost feels like two Doctors for the price of one. (Stor is an annoying bumpkin though.)

The Ice Warriors themselves are very effective monsters for this period – solid and memorably designed (the bipedal but inhuman silhouette is very successful), though the big-headed extras are quite a lot crapper. (They also show the later Ice Lords up as a pointlessly less effective variation.) In fact, these Warriors really wouldn’t require much alteration to still be effective on screen today. I love going back to old Doctor Who and it not feeling old; it makes you realise how little current Doctor Who has changed (the TARDIS team turn up, the Doctor sticks his nose in, and takes over the situation; this has never changed).

The Ice Warriors actually seems to have quite a bad reputation, at least lately (and maybe justifiably within season five), but it is a good story (and not just because it’s new to me); however, it doesn’t sparkle, and perhaps would have worked better as a four-parter.

Having watched stories from both sixties eras consecutively, what strikes me about the earliest two Doctors’ stories is that it isn’t effects which makes the current series more acceptable to modern audiences, by comparison to the old; it’s more the editing and general quality of the filming as a whole rather than individual effects that make the old series ‘unacceptable’ to a modern audience. This should be really obvious, but it’s a personal bugbear of mine that people are so dismissive of things for entirely superficial reasons.

In fact, I love the sixties specifically for its unique feel; the grainy B&W of the sixties is incomparably more atmospheric than, particularly, the crisp, too-bright eighties – and is beautiful in a way no other era compares with. It’s like the difference between vinyl and CD; it has an evocativeness to it even if you had no firsthand experience of it. Perhaps a better comparison is between Polaroid and digital pictures; whereas digital has a basic default colour balance that makes everything look the same, bland and ‘ordinary,’ Polaroid’s unique colour casts and imperfect development make everything look incomparably cooler.