Monday, April 30, 2012

The Reign of Terror

Dear Gary,
The Reign of Terror—another historical story, and as we learn, this is the Doctor’s favorite period in Earth’s history. What I find impressive, Gary, about these early William Hartnell historical pieces, is that there are no gimmicks. If David Tenant’s Doctor, for example, were to land in the midst of the French Revolution, he would be sure to find some alien force guiding Robespierre.  Not so William Hartnell’s Doctor.  When he lands in the middle of Earth’s history he is immersed in Earth History. He gets caught up in the events around him and tries to disentangle himself; he does not rush into events attempting to heroically put things to rights. If he winds up saving someone or helping some group overcome adversity, it is simply as a byproduct of his attempts to reunite his group and return to the TARDIS.
 “We can’t stem the tide,” the Doctor states, “but at least we can stop being carried away with the flood.” It is the flood of History that sweeps our adventurers up and carries them along as they struggle to reach the safety of the TARDIS, their metaphorical shore. And they do inevitably get swept up, and they usually get separated in the relentless flow, left to follow their own course back to each other and eventually to the TARDIS. “When you entered our hideout you entered our lives,” our adventurers are told. When they landed in Revolutionary France they landed in History.
I love the Doctor in this story, Gary, as he follows his solo path, no sonic screwdriver, only his wits to get himself out of scrapes. He never frets, not even when forced to work in the labor party. Accused of thinking himself clever, the Doctor replies, “Without any undue modesty—yes.” He maintains his supreme sense of confidence, this noble form of arrogance that Hartnell’s Doctor possesses, as he works and schemes with his fellow conscripts to outwit and overpower their oppressor. The Doctor rather gleefully hits his captor over the head with a shovel and then he goes on his merry way, off in search of his wayward companions.
Those wayward companions of his are following their own paths, bobbing and weaving their way through the flood waters, sometimes alone, sometimes with one, sometimes with the other, as they struggle through the raging torrent of history. Barbara finds a moment to reflect on the amusing spectacle they find themselves in. “It’s this feverish activity,” she giggles, “to try and stop something that we know is going to happen.”  The violent reality of history wages around them. They know the grim brutality of everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen. They cannot stop it. “Events will happen just as they are written,” says the Doctor. And yet they plot and scheme and act with the rebels. Not to advance the rebel’s cause, but to keep their own heads above the water’s deadly pull.
“If you stay in France, you are either with us or against us,” they are told. They must choose sides, not because of who is right and who is wrong, not because of who they know is victorious in the end, not to alter history, but because they want to survive. “The only reason I brought you here was to help Susan,” the Doctor declares. “I will help you if you will help me,” he is advised. William Hartnell’s Doctor does not take this lightly. He is prone to sulk when he does not get his own way, as Susan pointed out in our first story. But however reluctantly, he must wade into the course of history in order to save his granddaughter.
It’s a shame, Gary, that two of the episodes from this story are missing, and rather amusing that these two episodes can be summed up in just a few minutes to bridge the gap and set us back into the stream of the tale. The Doctor deflects questions with action, but the action is not to overshadow the characters and their journeys of discovery. Yet another aspect of these early Doctor Who stories that impresses me. Yes, they might be overlong at times, but they take their time in developing characters and themes. “Our lives are important—at least to us,” the Doctor proclaims, “and as we see, so we learn.” Their lives are important to us as well, as their learning is important to us. And how delightful for us that we get to see and learn along with them. And how sad that we have two episodes of seeing and learning lost to us.
The flood is of interest, too. That relentless force pushing its way through time, and the quiet pools forming within its rampant course. There is a quiet, forceful little moment early on in our story when Rouvray, an obviously former aristocrat, steps out to face the rag tag army sent to kill him.  “You’ll listen to me,” he states with authority, and when they do he adds, “You can give them uniforms, lieutenant, but they remain peasants underneath.” With these words he seals his fate, for yes, they remain peasants. Not just the peasants who once heeded his every word, but the peasants who silently resented and seethed and have now roiled up to the surface and roll over him with the rising tidal wave of history.
Why is it, Gary, that looking back is so much more interesting than the living of it? To the peasant firing the shot, the lieutenant giving the orders, and Rouvray commanding attention, the parts they are playing are mere moments in a lifetime with no more meaning than that split second of time. To us, this is a story of spectacle and significance. To us this is History with meaning outside of its own space and time.
Just a few final thoughts as always, Gary. I have to say that Susan is at her most pathetic in The Reign of Terror. From her ‘Eek a mouse’ moment to her refusal to run away from the looming threat of the guillotine because her head and back ache, she whines her way through this story, endangering herself and others.
The Doctor, on the other hand, is superb. He is at his tetchy best in the beginning of our story, taking indignant offense at Ian’s suggestion that he can’t control the TARDIS. “I admit it did develop a fault—a minor fault—on one occasion, perhaps twice, but nothing I couldn’t control.”I’ve already discussed his arrogant confidence in dealing with his enforced labor, but he carries this through to an even higher plane when impersonating an official. Barbara, back in the Aztec story, had a quiet, concentrated confidence when impersonating a god. In this story the Doctor carries off a flowery, haughty confidence in ordering about the jailer. Too bad his scenes with Robespierre are missing.
And in the end our travelers make it back to shore, to the TARDIS, and fly off for more adventures.  “I get the impression they don’t know where they’re heading for,” and indeed they don’t. Despite the Doctor’s protests about the unreliability of the TARDIS, we know that it is just this unreliability that carries them off to the unknown. And as the Doctor says, “Our destiny is in the stars.”

Destiny in the stars, in the time swirl, in the echoes. I send this up and out into that destiny and wait.

Friday, April 27, 2012

The Sensorites

Dear Gary—
The Sensorites—how aptly named these creatures and this story is. The root word—sense—this story encompasses each definition: intelligence, meaning, and most importantly feeling. Of course, Gary, all Doctor Who stories deal with intelligence as this is one of the primary characteristics of the Doctor. However, this story begins to explore more aspects of the Doctor.
As our story begins, the Doctor sums up our group’s adventures to date and they all agree that not only have they traveled a great distance, but they have all grown personally as well. Building on Barbara’s question in The Aztecs--what is the point of their travel--the Doctor concludes that what started out as a mild curiosity in a junk yard has turned into quite a spirited adventure. Later, to the crew of the ship on which they have landed, our travelers seem to come from nowhere and are going nowhere—travel without a purpose. No, Barbara explains, their purpose is to ultimately get back to their own time and place, and in the meantime The Doctor leads and they follow. Susan adds, “Isn’t it better to travel hopefully than arrive?” They have put both meaning and feeling into their journey.
Also as our story begins, the Doctor makes two more statements about himself; statements that define him and yet that he treats with some flexibility as his character evolves. “I never make uninformed guesses,” and “I’ve learned never to meddle in other people’s affairs.” Taken together with previous declarations from previous stories (“Fear is with all of us and always will be—just like that other sensation that goes with it” (hope); “I never give advice;” “Always seek the truth—mine is amongst the stars;” “Rush to action is worse than no action at all;” “You need my knowledge and ability to apply it and experience to gain fullest results;” “One man’s law is another man’s crime;” “I serve the truth”) we begin to get a fuller picture of this complex hero of ours, and this story serves to round out his character even more.
To begin, the Doctor is at his curmudgeonly best. Perhaps it is because the Sensorites are so unthreatening, meek and mild that the Doctor feels he can bully them the way he does. And he does bully them. Of course they have stolen the lock of his TARDIS and driven a wedge between him and Susan, however unwittingly. I rather like these wizened little creatures, and the Doctor slowly comes round to them himself. His first motivation is his old one of self-preservation as he desires to restore the TARDIS. Later, however, he acts out of compassion as he works towards curing Ian (a contrast to earlier stories in which he is willing to leave Ian and Barbara behind and in which he threatens to put them off the ship). Next he is motivated by his standby curiosity in striving to solve the mystery of the poisoned water and the haunted aqueduct. (His spirits couldn’t be higher, the Doctor exclaims gleefully. “Collecting evidence circumstantial and otherwise; calculating it; pursuing it until its inevitable end. It’s fascinating.”) Finally he works to save the Sensorites from the rogue humans sabotaging their water and from the duplicitous City Administrator (although that, too, is for his own and his group’s good).
I know I have belittled Susan in the past, Gary, but in this story she comes alive. She shows a will of her own and a desire to break free of the stifling role of young obedient child. It is this desire which triggers two contrasting emotions in the Doctor: anger and tenderness. His anger he takes out on the poor Sensorites, his tenderness he shows towards Susan, his granddaughter, as he struggles to repair his relationship with her. The Sensorites have caused the two to quarrel for the first time in all their many years together, he claims as he hugs her lovingly to him. Susan has opinions of her own, she proclaims, and is tired of being pushed aside. “The sole purpose in growing old,” The Doctor advises her, “is to accumulate knowledge and wisdom, and to help other people.” Through this fleeting rebellion on the part of Susan, the Doctor is growing in his own way. His care and concern for Susan begins to evolve into a more open and willing nature towards others. (And I’d like to point out, Gary, that this advice of the Doctor encompasses our three definitions of intelligence, meaning, and feeling.)
Trust is another sense that is explored in The Senorites. The whole of the Sensorite society is based on a blind and mutual trust that they believe results in the impossibility of treason and secret plotting. Trust must be earned, our travelers urge the Sensorites. Blind trust will only bring about the downfall of their people. The ensuing story bears this out, as the City Administrator plots his treason and our adventurers and the Sensorites learn to rely on one another, building respect and trust through proven worth.
Just a few tidbits to wind things up, Gary. This story marks the first time our travelers land inside a spaceship. They find themselves in the 28th Century, and we learn of 28th Century Earth that there is too much air traffic, the whole lower half of England is called Central City (there hasn’t been a London for 400 years), and no one seems to know what Big Ben is. It would be interesting to make a Doctor Who timeline to see if all these tidbits are honored throughout the series.
In addition, this story finds the Doctor wielding a weapon, even though it has been secretly disabled. “I have never liked weapons at any time,” states the Doctor, but he goes on to qualify, “however they are handy little things.” William Hartnell’s Doctor, while not embracing arms, does see their use, unlike some of the more extremist Doctors of later years.  I’d like to point out, too, Gary, that the Doctor picked up a knife back in The Keys of Marinus, although he ultimately only used it to free Altos and Sabetha.
The Doctor does a little name dropping in this story as well, a character trait shared by all incarnations of our hero. At the beginning of the story the Doctor shares a brief encounter with Henry VIII in which the king threw a parson’s nose at him, and the Doctor in his turn threw it back, all as a clever ploy to get reunited with the TARDIS which was locked in The Tower. Later he casually mentions that Beau Brummell always said he looked better in a cloak. This does not mark the first time the Doctor drops a name (Gilbert and Sullivan) and most certainly is not the last. I’ll try to mention any as I come across them, Gary. It might be interesting to track all the Doctor has come in contact with that we never get to see.
Our last tidbit comes courtesy of Susan, who shares with us the fact that her home planet (we do not yet know it to be Gallifrey) although much like Earth, has a night sky that is burnt orange and the leaves on the trees are bright silver. She says she has not seen her home planet in ages, and she expresses to her grandfather her longing to see it again. The Doctor, in his evasive way, blames things on “this old ship of mine” that seems to be an aimless thing. However, he says, they needn’t worry about it . . . .
And so the adventures continue, Gary, and as ever I continue to listen . . . .

Monday, April 23, 2012

The Aztecs

Dear Gary—
The Aztecs. Yet another great story, and yet another story in which Barbara shines. In fact I would say that this story is Barbara’s zenith. It takes advantage of not only her history teacher background but her strength, her compassion, her intelligence, her resilience, her tact, her determination . . . I could keep going, but why? Yet in the end Barbara fails. She learns, as she must learn, and we learn, as we must learn, that history cannot be altered. This is one of the cardinal rules of the Doctor and of Doctor Who, despite the fact that he often skirts the issue and does some history bending of his own. No, in The Aztecs, more so than in any other Doctor Who storyline, the inevitability and integrity of History is upheld as an infallible fact, both the immovable wall and the unstoppable force.
You can’t rewrite history—not one word, the Doctor warns, but Barbara feels she has been given a chance to help the Aztecs get it right. Her interest in them was touched on back on Marinus, and now she finds herself not only transported to this ancient society, but set up in the role of reincarnated god. And how effortlessly she steps into that role. Her historical background helps, surely, but it takes great presence of mind for her to immediately understand the intent of Autloc and Tlotxl and don the mantle of divinity without batting an eye, and then to grasp the gravity of the traveler’s  situation and use this new role to their advantage. But she is also blinded by her desire to save the Aztecs from themselves.
Susan describes the Aztec society as one of beauty and horror developing hand in hand. The Doctor revels in the beauty while Barbara campaigns against the horror. She should have realized the futility of her fight from the start when she commands the stop to the human sacrifice.  “You have denied me honor,” the intended sacrifice proclaims just before jumping to his death. It is a force she cannot stop and a lesson she must learn.
In setting herself against this time honored custom Barbara makes a powerful enemy in Tlotxl while finding a friend in Autloc. But, as Ian later points out, it is Autloc who is the odd man out in this society. He is the extraordinary, reasonable, civilized one, prepared to listen to advice, but he is only one man. Barbara thinks Tlotxl is the only one she is fighting, but Tlotxl is not the one, he is the people and the people are him. It is a whole way of life, a tradition, a religion. An unstoppable force. Barbara can’t win.
But Barbara doesn’t go down easy. She matches wits with Tlotxl as he tries to expose her as an imposter and deftly counters his assassination attempt. She walks among the people with authority when needed to save Ian and cleverly manipulates intended punishments to advantage to keep Susan safe.  Ultimately she does not save a civilization, but she does manage to help one man—Autloc—although she questions even this. The one man she respected, Barbara laments, she deceived; she gave him false hope and in the end he lost his faith. But it is that very faith--the faith of human sacrifice, of death, of fear--that she was attacking, and it was a faith that Autloc so clearly was questioning himself long before Barbara arrived. What she gave him was affirmation and the seeds of a new belief to explore.
“What’s the point of traveling through time and space if you can’t change anything—nothing?” A relevant question for the Doctor and for Doctor Who to be raised so early on in the show’s history. The Doctor, William Hartnell’s Doctor, is not about changing or even helping. The Doctor’s sole interest is in saving himself and his little band of travelers. He does not want to end human sacrifice; he wants to find a way back into the tomb so they can find the TARDIS and be on their way.  He did not want to help the cavemen find fire; he only wanted to escape and get back to the TARDIS and be on their way. He did not want to help the Thals, he only wanted to find his fluid link to fix the TARDIS and be on their way. He did not want to find the keys to the Conscience, he only wanted to lift the barrier around the TARDIS and be on their way.
The Doctor, William Hartnell’s Doctor, is not motivated by compassion or a sense of justice, he is motivated by self-preservation. And by curiosity. It is usually his curiosity that gets him into trouble and his sense of self-preservation that gets him out. Back on Skaro it was his desire to explore the city that led him to sabotage his ship thus paving the way for the Daleks to get their hands on his fluid link. The Doctor wasn’t interested in destroying the Daleks or saving the Thals. He wanted his fluid link back. He was perfectly willing to leave the Thals to the mercy of the Daleks until he realized he was trapped on the planet. Only then did he try to get the Thals to help him. It was up to Ian to inject humanity into that story—he wasn’t about to endanger the pacifist Thals just for the sake of a fluid link. No, Ian had to motivate the Thals to fight for their own sake.
Sorry for the divergence, Gary, but it takes several stories to see the whole picture of William Hartnell and his Doctor. He is not yet the crusader for good that the Doctor evolves into.  And that is one of the things I love about these early stories. The Doctor is not a comic book superhero. The Doctor is not human. The Doctor is a mystery. The Doctor is a traveler. He travels through time and space not to change but to discover. This is something that gets lost somewhere along the way.
I believe it is in this story of The Aztecs that he refers to himself for the first time as the Doctor. I might have missed it in earlier stories, and of course Marco Polo is missing so I wouldn’t know if he said it then, but this is the first that I have noticed, at least, his self-reference. “They call me the Doctor.” How often does he say that now? But this is the first. He goes on to describe himself as a scientist, an engineer, a builder of things. However he does this in order to explain his interest in the tomb’s design, so I take it with a grain of salt. Yes, he is all these things, but perhaps not to the literal degree he implies.
“I serve the truth.” Another definition of the Doctor. The Aztec religion, history, these are Truths, not to be manipulated or changed. Unmoveable. The Truth has no compassion or humanity. It is. It simply is.
But we do see a softer side to the Doctor in this story. “I made some cocoa and got engaged.” This could be a Gilligan’s Island plot device, but how sweetly handled it is here. The Doctor in the Garden of Peace, where all who have attained their 52nd year pass the remainder of their lives free from responsibility and care. “Poor souls,” says the Doctor, bored to tears, and yet there is Cameca, a companion of wit and interest. His relationship with this lovely lady is more than a subterfuge to gain information about the tomb. It is truly gentle and moving. The Doctor in love. And yet he must move on, find the entrance to the tomb, find the TARDIS and fly away. A part of him longs for the peace and boredom of the garden, but only a small part that he stores away in his heart. Just as he almost leaves behind but then takes the pin given him by Cameca—one of many souvenirs of his travels—he retains the memory of this lost love.
Memories. Echoes of the past. Lost in the Doctor’s time swirl. I hope this finds you somewhere in this vast configuration of things dear Gary.

Friday, April 20, 2012

The Keys of Marinus

Dear Gary—
What a shame that the next story in the Doctor Who saga, Marco Polo, is lost to us. It exists in the memories of those lucky enough to have seen it so many years ago, but now the program itself is dispersed into the nebulous airwaves of time and space.  I do have the novelization of Marco Polo, but it is not the story alone that defines Doctor Who, it is the actors, the directors, the technicians, the show itself in its entirety. And so, dear Gary, we must regretfully pass over this story and skip on to the next—The Keys of Marinus.
I absolutely love The Keys of Marinus. What a delight these six episodes are to watch, each one almost a separate story unto itself.  Rather a miniature version of the entire Key To Time season of the Tom Baker era.
From the start this story grips me as the Doctor, Ian, Barbara, and Susan learn each fascinating detail of this alien planet, from its glass beaches to its acid seas, moving on to the mysterious empty crafts that have traversed the acid, only to discover one that is not so empty—the remains of a passenger, a leak, a torn and empty rubber suit. Piecing together a story of what has happened, and then noticing the magnificent building in the distance, drawing them in to the adventure. And then there are the menacing figures in black rubber lurking amongst the beautifully angular rocks of the land.
Of course, Gary, the central conceit of the story is a rather ridiculous one that is often found not only in Doctor Who but in science fiction as a whole. How anyone can think utopia can be attained, much less attained through the artificial means of mind control over an entire population (in this case the machine known as The Conscience), much less how the Doctor and his companions can admire this idea as something noble, is beyond me. A machine that acts as perfect judge and jury, a populace that no longer has to decide right from wrong—the machine decides for them—evil eliminated from the minds of Man. The fallacy of this belief has been exposed on Marinus in the form of Yartek who has discovered a way to overcome the machine’s control, not only for himself but for his Voord followers, thus wreaking havoc on the helpless inhabitants of the planet who are incapable of fighting back.
Why, oh why, Gary, would anyone think it is a good idea to reassemble the five keys to the machine and again put it in power? Even if they really believe they have found a way to perfect it to counter Yartek’s resistance, another Yartek is bound to come along. The chaos that occurred on Marinus due to the dominance of its Conscience is a screaming endorsement for Free Will.
The first adventure our travelers come upon in search of the various keys is another example of this. The horrid evil little brain creatures have the people believing themselves to be the most contented in the universe. Ian is skeptical of the rich foods and lavish clothes showered upon them at first—‘we don’t know the price yet’—and indeed they do not. Contentment at what price? What truly is contentment? Automatons hypnotized into obedience, seeing silk where there is only rags. Are they content? With no thoughts or feelings of their own?  Barbara alone sees the truth (when the rather flimsy little obedience disk falls off her head). Barbara is not content. She sees the rags and the filth. She is angry and scared and desperate. Would she be better off seeing the silk? But there is the rub; there will always be one who slips through the cracks, who sees the truth, who beats the system. And the one makes it impossible for the whole. There will always be a Logan to run.
Barbara is the Yartek of this second episode of The Keys of Marinus, except without the evil intent. Barbara is not out to bend the Mesmer to her own will, she is out to destroy it. (Another side note, Gary—Mesmer—I just love the naming conventions of Doctor Who.) If Yartek were out to destroy The Conscience he would be a hero rather than the villain he is.
I want to say a word, too, Gary, about the horrid little evil brain creatures.  This is another Who/sci fi conceit. The brain/body disconnect. Beings who develop their intelligence to the point that they outgrow their bodies, however they still need the human body to feed them and carry out their orders. The human body, the horrid little evil brain creatures concede, is still the most flexible instrument around. And I suppose the horrid little evil brain creatures, by use of the Mesmer, are disconnecting these human bodies from their brain.
And I’m sorry, Gary, but I still have more to say about this fascinating little episode two of The Keys of Marinus, and I’m going to jump back to the start when the travelers first arrive in this land of seeming plenty when Ian is skeptical.  How rich and powerful, Ian speculates, does one have to be to give things away for free. What I find most interesting about this speculation is that he attributes it to his materialistic side. One must be materialistic to think in terms of cost and not just accept things as freely given. Do the rich get needlessly richer and richer because they have this constant thought that nothing is free? And if everything is free for the taking, is everything therefore diminished in value? Under the influence of the Mesmer, Ian takes the riches with no question, but the riches are rags. He no longer has a materialistic side; he no longer questions the value; he no longer questions the cost. He takes all, but has nothing.
Now we move on to episode three, and yet another little story within a story and another introduction of a Who/sci fi theme—menacing plants. Nature gone wild. Of course, Nature is wild by its very nature. Perhaps it is more accurate to say Nature accelerated. I could also say Nature with an Intelligence, but then Nature really does have a design and intelligence of its own, so I’m going to stick with Nature accelerated. Nature enhanced. Nature on steroids.
Barbara and Ian are the main characters in this episode.  The Doctor is out of it completely, having gone ahead to retrieve the final key while the others go after the second. This is one of the many strengths of these early seasons—in a show called Doctor Who, the two companions can carry the show for two episodes without the Doctor. I can’t think of any other incarnation of the Doctor in the entire history of the show for whom this can be said.  And that’s not to say that William Hartnell’s Doctor is weak, that is to say that the companions and the writing and the structure of the show are that strong. Ian and Barbara are not mere appendages of the Doctor.
Barbara and Ian also carry episode four, although they are joined by Susan and the two temporary companions they have picked up along the way. In this episode it is not nature, but a great hulking trapper who is menacing, and we have another recurring Who theme—caves with multiple passages that need to be explored (first seen back in the Dalek story). I like the frozen warriors in this episode as well; whenever I see them I can’t help thinking of those in the Tom Baker story Warrior’s Gate. And at least Susan does show herself to be useful by crawling across the treacherous chasm to repair the rope bridge so the others can get across.
This brings us to the final two episodes that find the companions reunited with the Doctor, and yet another story within a story. This one a murder mystery/courtroom drama. The Doctor delights in his full scale role as detective/lawyer here.  He had a taste of it back in the first story when he proved that it was Kal who murdered the old woman, but now he has the complete setting--evidence, witnesses, prosecutors, judges and all. Ian is the hapless defendant, and I love his line when he says, “This business is beginning to run away from me.” How true that line is for every story of Doctor Who.
And now all the keys have been assembled and there is nothing left but to return to the island to complete the new and improved Conscience.  Thankfully Yartek stands in the way and in the end the people are left to their own consciences. The Doctor ultimately sees the wisdom of this—“I don’t believe that Man was made to be controlled by machines. Machines can make laws but they cannot preserve justice; only human beings can do that.” Amen.
I can only wonder if you agree, Gary. I'm positive that you would, but I still await that ehco.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The Edge of Destruction

Dear Gary—
"As we learn about each other we learn about ourselves." That seems to sum up this short, tight little storyline. The Doctor, Susan, Barbara and Ian are trapped in the tiny little universe of the TARDIS as they (and we) learn about themselves and each other. I remember really liking this psychological drama the first time I saw it, and I find that it still holds up after repeated viewings, even after the freshness of new discovery is ended.
Our travelers have had two solid adventures under their belt. Now they are left with nothing but their wits to untangle the threat that faces them in the claustrophobic TARDIS. Who is really the enemy? Who is good and who is evil? What is good and what is evil?  “Who are you?” “One man’s law is another man’s crime.” “Your instinct and intuition against my logic.” Snatches of lines floating through the TARDIS and defining this story as one in search of knowledge.
As the story begins the four have been knocked unconscious, and as they awaken they are disoriented and have disturbing memory lapses. They become suspicious of each other—the Doctor and Susan pitted against Barbara and Ian. The kidnappers against the kidnapped. The TARDIS inhabitants against the TARDIS interlopers.  Has the TARDIS been sabotaged? The Faultdicator (again the Faultdicator—but somewhere along the line fault must have been found with the Faultdicator for it is abandoned as a plot element early in the show’s history) can’t find anything wrong, but clearly something is not right.
It is Barbara who shines in this story. It is Barbara who awakens first; it is Barbara who begins to ask the relevant questions; it is Barbara who recognizes the clues; it is Barbara who pushes the group to work together towards a solution. Apart from a minor meltdown when she first sees the broken clock face, Barbara remains focused and proactive.
The Doctor lies cut and unconscious on the TARDIS floor and Barbara puts the wandering Susan on task to get some bandages (and quite remarkable bandages they are too, Gary—they have lines of ointment  running through them that soak into the wound; when the color is gone, Susan explains, the wound is healed).  Susan becomes irrationally suspicious and violent (I still don’t get why Susan acts so out of character here, but a scissors wielding Susan is most entertaining) and Barbara calms her down. The Doctor becomes accusatory and threatens to put Barbara and Ian off the ship and Barbara gives him a verbal slap in the face . . . “Do you realize, you stupid old man . . .” she starts and ends with “Accuse us! You ought to go down on your knees and thank us.”  Not your typical groupie of a companion.
And that is what I love about this story. Here we are, three adventures in, and the group dynamic is still being worked out. Barbara and Ian didn’t have five minutes of ‘It’s bigger on the inside than on the outside’ shock and then fall into lockstep with the Doctor. No, they are still struggling with the notion of time and space travel, grappling with the fantastic twist their lives have taken, longing to go home, and fighting for their rightful place as reluctant crewmembers of the TARDIS.
The TARDIS. Ah, the TARDIS. We must talk about the TARDIS when discussing this story. It is impossible, Susan claims, for the TARDIS doors to open on their own. Yet there they are, opening and closing at will throughout the story. The Doctor also claims, “my machine can’t think.” Yet--he qualifies--it must be able to think as a machine. And indeed, the TARDIS reveals itself to be a fifth and intriguing member of the crew as this story unravels. The ever lovable blue box so gloriously stuck in its present shape. “It’s alive!” shouted Ian upon first meeting up with this enigma.  It is more than its bank of computers, despite the Doctor’s claim, and how grand that this is so very evident from the start of Doctor Who's run—the Doctor’s ever present companion, through regeneration after regeneration, story after story, villain after villain, companion after companion—the TARDIS is the one constant and unifying force.
And it is in this, the third story of Doctor Who, that we learn that the TARDIS has a heart. Maybe not a heart like our human heart, but, as we learn, the heart of the TARDIS resides under the column. The column is what keeps this power contained, and it is the power below that moves the column.
Speaking of hearts, Gary, we do not yet learn that the Doctor has two. This is a revelation for later years. No, Ian checks for the Doctor’s heartbeat at the beginning of the story, and I’m sure if he had found two he would have remarked on the fact. But then he didn’t know to look for two, so presumably he only listened in the traditional spot and found just the one. After all, Martha Jones, a trained doctor, hears both hearts through her stethoscope and yet seems to dismiss this fact and still takes some convincing that the Doctor is an alien.
But let us return to the TARDIS. We have already seen in earlier stories that the TARDIS consists of more than the one control room, but it is in The Edge of Destruction that we see several of the rooms in use.  The room with the food machine is a bit of a lounge equipped with a sofa, and then there is the one bedroom shared by Barbara and Susan in which the rather uncomfortable looking, curvy beds come down out of the wall.  And we do hear of the extensive wardrobe of the TARDIS from which an ulster is found for Ian—an ulster, so the Doctor tells us, that he received from Gilbert and Sullivan.
The TARDIS drives the action in this psychological drama, warning our travelers of their impending doom. Barbara might put the clues together, but it is the TARDIS that first sounds the alarm (a blaring horn in contrast to the more pleasant bell knoll of later episodes). The defense mechanism of the TARDIS—self preservation—refusing to destroy itself, and our adventurers are left to assemble the pieces of the puzzle, with Barbara taking the lead.
And how silly in the end. It all boils down to a stuck switch—the fast return switch.  The first, and I venture to say, the only appearance of this switch.  The Doctor has hit the fast return switch—hoping this will take them back to their starting point on Earth—but the switch has gotten stuck and in reality they are hurtling back to the birth of a solar system. It could only take the force of a total solar system, we are told, to attract the power away from The TARDIS.
And how fortunate for us that this switch did exist to provide the impetus for our gem of a story.

And so, Gary, the Doctor, Susan, Barbara, and Ian are beginning to gel as a group, as well as the TARDIS. And they journey on through the stars, now that the problem has been resolved; and we journey on in anticipation of their next adventure.

I hope that this finds you somewhere out there in the vast swirl of time, whether present or past or future, and some echo of a reply will find its way to me, where ever I might be.

Monday, April 16, 2012

The Daleks

Dear Gary,
I’m sure you would disagree with me on this, the second story of Doctor Who, but I find this historic first meeting of the Doctor with his arch enemy the Daleks boring. I can just sense the waves of shock and displeasure pulsating through time and space. I can’t help it.  It’s not like his first story that I have come to appreciate over time.  No, this iconic story just stretches on and on; I’m fine through the first couple episodes, but round about episode four and five I start drowsing.  And I know, originally this was not meant to be watched through in its entirety in one sitting. It was meant to be viewed in seven 20-25 minute episodes.  Maybe one day I’ll watch it that way and come to a finer appreciation, but for now all I can say is that this story puts me to sleep. I do not find the Daleks menacing nor the Thals compelling. I wonder whatever became of the Thals? Despite their victory over the Daleks at the end of this story, the Daleks go on to spread their terror throughout all of time and space, whereas the Thals just fade away.
However, I must soldier on.  And so, Gary, I set your Dalek before me for inspiration.  I always wanted a Dalek of my very own; now I have two. Yes, the Daleks are the saving grace of this story.  They transcend the story.  Despite their clumsy limitations they soldier on, as I must do, and that is the inspiration I am seeking.
The Doctor describes the Dalek’s plans to eliminate the Thals as sheer murder.  No, the Daleks correct him, it is extermination.  Simple. Relentless. Single-minded. Exterminate. That is the power of the Daleks. Time and time and time again they are defeated. They always return. They never give up.  Exterminate.
Barbara and Ian, as our story begins, are having their ‘we’re not in Kansas anymore’ realization.  Of course they were aware of that in the story before, but it really sinks in now that they find themselves for the first time on another planet, and they are beginning to wonder if the Doctor can ever get them back to 1963 Earth. They have landed on Skaro in a broken down TARDIS, and all they want is to get back home.  But the Doctor has other ideas.  He wants to explore.  He is curious about the city he sees through his binocular eyeglasses on this seemingly dead planet. He therefore rushes them headlong into danger, smack into the Daleks.
Smack into the Daleks.  Exterminate. Ah—the fatal flaw of the Daleks. Despite their single-minded purpose to exterminate, they never kill the Doctor.  All the times they face him through the years and they never once shoot him on sight. This story marks the first of such meetings and establishes this weakness of the Daleks. Never mind that the Daleks are confined to this metal city of theirs, unable to move freely about the planet. Never mind that the Daleks, who function through the harnessing of static electricity, never mind that once this power source is knocked out they are useless. Never mind that they are so easily overpowered and killed. All of these things they can and do overcome through the evolution of Doctor Who. No. Their one and only downfall is that they ignore their prime directive whenever they face the Doctor.
It’s a long story, Gary, yet I find I have little more to say about it. There are a few interesting tidbits about the TARDIS, Skaro, and the Daleks that come out in this story, but most of these were abandoned as the series progressed.  The food machine, for instance. They turn a few dials and push some buttons and out pops a bar that they can eat and that tastes like the different portions of the meal they have chosen, ala Willie Wonka. Or the Faultdicator that lights up to tell the Doctor what part of the ship is malfunctioning. K7, apparently, is the light that indicates something is wrong with the Fluid Link (it needs mercury, or so the Doctor says). Or the TARDIS lock, which Susan explains has 21 different holes with only 1 being the correct one and 20 wrong ones.  If a mistake is made, she says, the lock melts. This strikes me as extremely foolish, and maybe Susan is a compulsive liar after all, or she has come to believe in yet another falsehood. The key to the TARDIS, however, is apparently replaceable: "I can always make another one."
Then there is the history of Skaro. It is the 12th planet in its solar system we are told. The war between the Thals and the Daleks took place 500 years prior to our adventurers landing, and all the destruction took place in a day. Back then the Thals were the warriors and the Daleks the teachers and philosophers.  We are told that the Daleks were called simply Dals at that time, however the Thals have been carrying around their history for 500 years in a cylinder as they move from place to place on their dead planet. Who knows how muddled their history has become.
We also learn along with the Daleks in this story, that the Daleks over the years have become conditioned to radiation, and in fact rely on it for their survival. When they experiment with the anti-radiation drug that the Thals have created the Daleks die.  (Side note here, Gary. When the first Dalek dies in this way I can’t help hearing tones of Manuel from Fawlty Towers in the Dalek’s death wail.)

The Doctor in this story is motivated primarily by curiosity and then by self preservation when he realizes his Fluid Link is in the Dalek city. He has no interest in helping the Thals, but when he needs their help he has no hesitation in demanding it. Thankfully he has Ian along to convince the Thals to action.

There is a nice little bit with Ian climbing into an empty Dalek shell, and we do get to see a glimpse of the real Dalek outside of its casing. Other than that there are long bits of climbing through caves and slogging through swamps. "We need action not argument," but the action just doesn't hold my interest.

We do get a brief hint of the Doctor's past when he laments that he is too old to be a pioneer, "though I was once, among my own people." And I have to chuckle when he claims that he never gives advice.
I really don’t have much more to say on this, Gary, but I really wish I could hear your side of it.  I truly want to like this story and would love to hear your perspective. The Doctor in this story advises to always seek the truth--"mine is amongst the stars." All I can do is send this out to those stars and wait fruitlessly for an echo of a reply.

Friday, April 13, 2012

An Unearthly Child

Dear Gary,
I wish I could talk to you about this first, this original, this premier story.  I wish I could tell you about the evolution of my thinking; how I first came to this story late in my Doctor Who knowledge, after repeated viewings of the Tom Baker years, and I only deemed this worthy for historical perspective.  I found the adventure itself to be boring and plodding, and I usually ended up sleeping through most of it.  However I now find this story fascinating.  It sets out basic conflicts that resound throughout the Doctor’s timeline.  Science vs Superstition.  Progress vs Tradition.  Brains vs Braun. Yet as most things to do with Doctor Who, none of this is simply Black vs White. It is infinitely more complex than that; it is all muddled up in the Doctor’s time swirl and spit back out again in shining shards of an interwoven tapestry, much like our own human history.

But the historical perspective is still important and compelling. After all, this is where it all begins.
An Unearthly Child. The title speaks of Susan, but Susan is only good as exposition. This first episode of this first story revolves around Susan because she brings all our elements together. Barbara and Ian, Susan’s teachers. The Doctor, Susan’s grandfather. The TARDIS, Susan’s home and transport. The three elements that give Susan meaning and life and importance.  All here in this first episode, and beyond she is just window dressing.
Susan brings the Doctor to Earth, to England, in the 20th Century (1963 to be exact).  Five months they have been there as we learn. Five months Susan has attended the Coal Hill School. Five months she has studied under Barbara and Ian and peaked their interest.  She is a mystery to them, and it is a mystery that draws us in to the Doctor’s world. But it remains a mystery to us, the Doctor and Susan and the TARDIS, in this first story.  All we know is that they are exiles from another world, another time.  Wanderers. Adventurers. Nothing more.  There is time ahead to flesh out their story. For now this is all we know. (In the original version of the pilot episode it is said that they are from the 49th century, but this is scratched for ‘another time,’ and rightly so.)
Just as a side note here, Gary, on time. Of course centuries and dates and time measurement as we know it is all Earth-centric.  The Doctor and Susan, being from another time, another place, wouldn’t measure time in Earth years; yet the Doctor in his life to come will often do just that.  I can only assume it is for the benefit of his human companions.
Now let’s turn to the TARDIS.  Susan claims in this first episode to have named the TARDIS based on the initials—Time And Relative Dimension In Space.  Now there can only be three explanations for such a startling claim. 
  1. Susan is lying, perhaps to impress her teachers Barbara and Ian, or perhaps she is a compulsive liar.
  2.  Susan has come to believe that she really did name the TARDIS. We don’t know how old she is (15-17 in earth years, but--as we come to learn--for a Time Lord, who knows how old she really is) and we don’t know how old she was when she first left her home planet.  Perhaps during her travels with her grandfather she just naturally came to believe that she did indeed name the TARDIS, and perhaps her grandfather indulged her in this belief.
  3. Susan really did coin the name, but this would have to have been back on Gallifrey (which we do not yet know is her home planet) and it came into general use. 
Personally I am going with number two.  Which, I wonder, would you go with?

“It’s alive!” Dr Frankenstein of his monster; Ian of the TARDIS. It’s alive. The TARDIS. Later, Susan warns Ian not to touch the TARDIS console-"it’s live," she says.  Is the TARDIS a living presence? Yet another mystery. We do learn of the TARDIS that it is equipped with a yearometer (which, surprise, isn’t working properly) and a scanner screen, and it can check for radiation levels on a planet. It is in this first story, too, that the TARDIS breaks such that it remains in the shape of a police box.  “Why hasn’t it changed?” wonders The Doctor when they first arrive at their new destination. It is the chameleon circuit, as we later learn, that has broken down. But for now all we know is that the TARDIS should have changed appearance upon arrival in a different place but has not.  It is the iconic blue box for now and for always (let’s hope). The TARDIS can be unreliable we learn (“I do wish this would stop letting me down”).  Does it have a mind of its own?
Why, I used to wonder, did the Doctor decide to kidnap Barbara and Ian? There are two versions.  In the original pilot that did not air, the Doctor is worried that the two have learned too much and pose a danger to history. But the final version puts a human spin on it—the Doctor simply wants to keep his granddaughter with him.  Susan threatens to leave him behind in order to stay on Earth. If he lets Barbara and Ian leave he must lose his granddaughter. So he takes off to parts unknown with Barbara and Ian as unwilling passengers. Thank you, Susan.
The Doctor. THE Doctor.  When does he become known as THE Doctor? Susan apparently has listed her grandfather as a doctor on her enrollment form for the Coal Hill School.  She also has listed her name as Susan Forman, which we see immediately is taken from the name on the junkyard where the TARDIS has parked itself.  Ian and Barbara therefore know Susan’s grandfather as Dr. Foreman. However, early on Ian cottons to the fact that Foreman isn’t really his name. "That’s not his name—Dr. Who?" They just naturally fall into calling him Doctor, dropping the fictitious surname. The Doctor himself remarks at Ian calling him Dr. Foreman and ponders, “Eh? Dr. Who?” The question is, was he the Doctor before this? Or is this the origination of that appellation? My guess is that he was the Doctor previous, and that is why Susan lists him as a doctor on her enrollment form, although, as the Doctor points out himself, he is not a doctor of medicine.
But enough about the historical perspective.  Let’s get to the story, to the conflicts, to Za vs Kal, to Ian vs the Doctor, to fire vs . . . the old woman. It all boils down to a struggle for leadership, for power.  Za, the heir apparent vs Kal the newcomer, the interloper. Ian the young and strong vs the Doctor—the experienced brain.  And it all starts  . . . with Barbara. As Ian and Barbara stumble into the TARDIS, Ian the science teacher cannot accept the superior reality of the Doctor’s science.  It is Barbara the history teacher who first comes to accept this reality—through faith.  While Ian maintains it all is an illusion, a trick, Barbara tells Ian she just can’t help it—she believes them.  It is the perfect marriage of faith and reason, whereas the Doctor and Ian play out their own version of a scientific civil war.
It’s amusing to see the Doctor deflect every question Ian poses.  He’s not worthy of answers; he wouldn’t understand.  It’s not the why that matters but what is going to happen—ah . . . that is Doctor Who in a nutshell.  Actions not only speak louder than questions—they trample the questions under foot.
And then there is fire. The Doctor and his merry band come down from the sky to this primitive tribe that is in search of fire. Fire—not the symbol of progress but the symbol of power.  The old woman sees it.  Fire will bring death she claims. It is not the progress that fire brings but the power struggle between Kal and Za that will bring death. Both concede that the one who can bring fire to the tribe will be leader. Za spends all day waiting for Orb to send down fire to his, Za’s, hands.  Kal spends his days in the practical pursuit of game for the tribe to eat and skins for them to wear. It is not clear how Kal expects to bring fire to the tribe, until he happens to see the Doctor strike a match.  Now Kal looks to the magic of the stranger vs the magic of Orb, both Kal and Za relying on the realm of superstition for their power. The Doctor, though, has not come to shed light and reason to these primitives. He is simply trying to escape. The Eternal Struggles, if they struggle, struggle outside of Man. Man is simply struggling for survival and for his own self interest, ever the selfish gene.
Or is it? Selfish I mean.  For just when Barbara is well on her way to the safety of the TARDIS she stops to help the injured Za.  Her compassion taking over from her reason. Ian and Susan, too, put the welfare of Za over their own interests.  The Doctor, only, sulks. “He’s always like this if he doesn’t get his own way,” offers Susan. Yes, the Doctor, William Hartnell's Doctor, looks to his own self interest. This is most shockingly evident when he picks up and casts the first stone, driving Kal out of the tribe.  He sides with mob rule, brute force. He not only sides with it—he leads it. It is Ian, the young and strong, who provides the intelligence behind this seemingly brutal act of the Doctors when he advises Za that “Kal is not stronger than the whole tribe.” It is a lesson Ian reinforces later with the fire.  Everyone in the tribe should know how to make fire, he tells Za, thus making the fire maker the least important.  The good of the whole is more important than the individual.
And so our group of travelers, the Doctor and his granddaughter and the two kidnapped teachers, struggle through this first adventure of theirs.  Ian and Barbara accusing the Doctor of treating everybody and everything as something less important than himself, and the Doctor countering that the two of them consider everything they do as reasonable and everything he does as inhuman.  Of course he isn’t human and his actions and his attitudes speak to that. The Doctor’s arrogance is a quality that comes through in every incarnation, but this Doctor, William Hartnell’s Doctor, has a detached arrogance born of supreme confidence and not an arrogance of cruelty and disdain.  This vagabond adventurer is more richly layered than the self righteous Crusader of Good that the Doctor has become.

In the end, Gary, Ian concedes that the Doctor is the leader. In their struggle to escape the group has been forced to work together. They are not yet a happy little group of companions, but it is only the beginning. I look forward to observing how they grow and learn from each other.

And so I send this out into the Doctor's time swirl, Gary, as ever awaiting any little echo of a reply.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Who Is Your Favorite Doctor?

Dear Gary,
Who, I wonder, was your favorite Doctor?  According to Kevin you have said that you thought the original was the best.  But by The Original, did you mean the original, the first, William Hartnell?  Or did you mean collectively the pre Eccleston era set of Doctors?  If I knew the Doctor he could take me back in his TARDIS to ask you what you meant, but then the Doctor would probably say you can’t go back in your own personal time line.  And so I will have to send the question out, waiting for an echo of an answer that will never come.
How often when someone has died do people say, “I was just talking to her,” or “He was just here the other day,” as though the proximity of the moment means you can turn around and touch it, but you only find as you reach out that you are holding nothing but air.  It is the tantalizing reflection in water that when touched, breaks up and scatters and then reassembles itself into its own dancing image, forever out of reach.
How often have I asked Mom a question and sent it back, but it is only a ghost of me asking--that ghost of a self who could reach out and touch the reality that was my mom.  Now the question only swirls as though caught in the Doctor’s time tunnel, and I will never again know the recipe for those Soft Oatmeal Cookies.
And so, Gary, I send my question out into the Doctor’s time swirl—who was your favorite Doctor?  But all I can do is tell you my own ranking of the Doctors and send that out as well, and let it wash through the swirl of time and echo back in a dancing reflection.
My first, my favorite, Tom Baker.  To be honest, this number one ranking is due mainly to the fact that Tom Baker was the first and for the longest time the only Doctor I was exposed to.  It was only after many years of repeated viewing of the Tom Baker years that PBS started branching out to the other Doctors.  But I caught these Doctors randomly and sporadically and viewed them mainly as a means of rounding out the history of the Doctor (Tom Baker).
 Having lived in the same television market, I wonder, Gary, if that would also be your choice.  But then, you had the entire collection long before I did and had more exposure to the Doctor as a whole.  Perhaps you even watched the entire compendium beginning to end, as I have since done and plan to do again, and so had the full range of Doctor Who before you to reason out your choice for number one.  Me—as Madame De Pompadour would say—I had the days of the Doctor’s life pressed together as though in a book such that I could walk through to any point in his life, rather than taking the slow path.
I am now on the slow path, though.  Beginning to End.  Hartnell to Smith (and beyond?).  I have done this once and intend on a second round.  And so I can now reason out my rankings.  But I still maintain Tom Baker as favorite, the echo of my ghostly past too strong to overcome.
Second on my list is the first, William Hartnell.  He wasn’t a Time Lord then, at least as far as we knew.  He was a mystery.  An adventurer.  A vagabond.  An irascible one at that.  He was not yet a demigod, as he is in danger of becoming in recent years.  He was simply a being from another world traveling with his granddaughter and two kidnapped teachers.  He benefits greatly from strong companions (not counting Susan who was only good for three things—introducing us to the Doctor, introducing Ian and Barbara to the Doctor, and naming the TARDIS, that is, if you can believe her).
I will now jump down to the bottom of my list, as it is easier to pick out the best and the worst and then work out the rest in between.  By far the worst Doctor is Colin Baker.  He, unlike William Hartnell, suffers from the worst companion, the whiny Peri of the clunking shoes.  His episodes are almost torture to sit through, but I do it out of loyalty to Doctor Who.  He is much too arrogant, and while all the Doctors are arrogant in their own way, Colin Baker is arrogant in the worst way.  He is meanly arrogant, smugly arrogant, arrogantly arrogant.  His was a regeneration that went wrong.
Jumping up one from the bottom, I move to the eighth Doctor Paul McGann, although I do not consider him The Doctor.  He may be A Doctor, but he is not The Doctor.  But he is officially considered The Doctor and so I must include him, this Doctor of one episode that is so far out of touch with the series and the mythology of the Doctor.  I have nothing against the actor; he is personable enough and might have made a fine Doctor.  But his one episode is so incongruous that I consider this Doctor merely an anomaly, a bad dream that the Doctor had once upon a time.
Moving back up to the top, I place at number three Christopher Eccleston.  I give him credit for resurrecting the Doctor into the modern era while at the same time maintaining the historical integrity of the character.  After so many years he was able to step across the void and into the shoes of the Doctor with ease (and I had my significant doubts beforehand, given the debacle of the brief attempt of the eighth Doctor).   I immediately could accept Christopher Eccleston as Doctor Who; he made the character live again. 
Fourth is David Tennant.  He was important, this next Doctor from Eccleston, to build on the momentum and keep the Doctor alive.  He and Eccleston both benefit from the modernization of the show--the shorter, more compact stories and better effects.  He also has one of the best companions in Donna, just the right person to keep him from his dangerous flirtation with demigodery.  And we see when she leaves how he careens out of control.  Any more episodes from him would have moved him down several notches in the ranking, but he left in time.
Fifth on my list is Matt Smith.  And he might move up some the more I see of him.  I have to say that I was skeptical upon viewing the first previews of this new Doctor and his new companion.  I felt it was a mistake to pair this youngest of the Doctors with an equally young female companion, especially after the experience of Rose (and the show’s unfortunate yielding to temptation in tacking on that sappy end to the Rose saga when it should have left well enough alone).  But I must say that I have been pleasantly surprised in the handling of their relationship, and am especially pleased with the addition of Rory.  The three of them together are more truly companions, as Tennant and Donna were, not superior and underlings, nor demigod and worshipers. However, I have been disappointed with the story arcs through the two seasons I have watched, and he is in just as much danger of slipping in my estimation, through no fault of his own.  The only thing at the moment keeping him in fifth is he himself.  Matt Smith is the pin pricking the ever increasingly bloated egotism of the show.
Sixth I place Patrick Troughton.  Honestly, I almost forgot about this Doctor.  I really like him and he could be higher on my list, except for the unfortunate fact that most of his episodes are lost to us, swirling somewhere out there in the nether regions of time.  He, like Eccleston and Tennant, was important in keeping the legend alive.  As the first regeneration, he had the impossible task of maintaining the established and beloved character of the Doctor while at the same time creating an entirely new characterization. Patrick Troughton successfully made this transition, expanding on the tramp like quality of William Hartnell's Doctor and exploring new and undeveloped directions in his personality. 
Meeting up in the middle now, I have three left.  I can easily place at the bottom of these three, just above Colin Baker and the eighth Mcgann, Sylvester McCoy.  He was good enough, but the creativity of the show was dying.  Although I have to say he is in one of my favorite episodes, one that I have turned into traditional Christmas viewing, and that is Paradise Towers.
Rounding out the middle, and if pressed, I will place first (that is seventh on the list) Peter Davison and second (that is eighth) Jon Pertwee.  Both are likeable enough, but Pertwee was a little too much of a dandy for my taste, and it didn’t help that he was earth bound for most of his run. 
And there you have it, my rankings of the Doctors, one through eleven, but not necessarily in that order.  And so I send this out to you, Gary, through the Doctor’s time swirl, and await any echo of a reply.