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buttherainbowhadabeard · 6 months

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Unpopular Opinion: David Tennant Should Never Have Returned To Doctor Who

When a teary eyed David Tennant as The Doctor uttered the words “I don’t want to go” in his 2010 generation scene, it was a heartbreaking moment for fans. Saying goodbye to such a universally loved incarnation would be hard, but this was Doctor Who. Change was inevitable, and often, exciting.

So when the BBC announced that Tennant would be returning to the iconic role 15 years on, as part of a series of 60th anniversary specials, I was sceptical.

It looked like I was the only one though, as the internet erupted with anticipation and jubilation. I, however, thought the 14th Doctor reveal was a huge distraction that disrespected both the outgoing and the incoming actors.

Don’t get me wrong, Tennant is one of my favourite modern Doctor’s. His mid 2000s run as the 10th Doctor was funny, frightening, heartfelt and unforgettable. He had some of the best companions and villains, and some of the smartest and most compelling stories. But all good things come to an end, and now his emotional first exit felt a bit hollow.

His return really took the shine off Jodie Whittaker’s finale. Yes, her years as the 13th Doctor were responsible for some of the worst Doctor Who storylines in recent memory. But this was hardly her fault, and instead of enjoying her last moments as The Doctor and reflecting on the good bits (the first female Doctor in the show’s history), fans were shouting at their screens for her to hurry up and regenerate so their favourite could return. It was almost like the show was doing a reset and hoping we’d forget about her.

It also meant that the now 15th Doctor (Ncuti Gawta, the first gay, black Doctor in the show’s history) had to wait a little longer to make his debut, which seemed on-the-nose too.

The BBC were making it crystal clear who they thought their most popular Doctor was. Tennant has had more screen time than any other modern era Doctor, and now he’s the only one still alive and kicking post regeneration across all eras. Haven’t they ever heard of 'jumping the shark' or having too much of a good thing?!

He had four consecutive seasons from 2005-2008, with a fake regeneration at the end of Series 4 that saw him get cloned and live happily ever after with Rose Tyler on parallel earth. From 2008-2010 he travelled sans companion in a series of specials, before reluctantly regenerating into Matt Smith. In 2013, he made an appearance alongside Smith in the 50th anniversary special.

And now in 2023, he’s done three extra episodes alongside Catherine Tate reprising her role as his much loved Series 4 companion Donna Noble. These specials ended with him bi-generating (one Tennant Doctor, one Gatwa Doctor - don’t ask!) and continuing on as The Doctor, complete with his own TARDIS. He will, he says, stay put on earth to let Gatwa go off and have his own adventures. How generous of him!

Firstly, Tennant’s latest run didn’t feel like a 60th anniversary either. Instead it felt like a very late follow up and conclusion (or even an alternative ending) to Series 4, so the opportunity to include other cameos and celebrate the show’s rich history was lost.

In ‘The Star Beast’, the monstrous Meep really just provided a reason for The Doctor to see Donna again. In ‘Wild Blue Yonder’, The Doctor and Donna fought creepy doppelgängers of themselves (again, talk about self-indulgent!), and in ‘The Giggle’, Neil Patrick Harris’ promising Celestial Toymaker did little more than put on a funny accent and do a funny dance.

Sure, it had some fun and heartfelt moments. I'm glad the DoctorDonna Human-Time Lord metacrisis has been resolved. The Doctor's tender moments with Donna were nice. His two redheaded companions (Donna and Mel) holding his hands as he "regenerated" was touching. Even Tennant and Gatwa's interactions were surprisingly sweet. However, the whole jaunt just felt like an excuse to reunite Tennant and Tate and capitalise on their lingering popularity. Which leads me to my second point…

No other actor has been able to continue on as The Doctor, so the fact that this is the first exception to the rule shows that the studio is very obviously playing favourites. They are keeping Tennant’s sprightly sneaker wearing, pin stripe suited spaceman up their sleeves to roll out whenever they please. If the ratings plummet, the can bring Tennant back. If the fans want it, they can bring Tennant back. If Tennant wants it, they can bring Tennant back. Does anyone else smell a spin-off?

Thirdly, I don’t buy the idea that The Doctor can be - and wants to be - domesticated at all. Despite everyone telling him that he needs to stop and slow down, he has never once done so. In every incarnation, he/she is an energetic, chaotic and forever on-the-go entity that can’t stand waiting or having to sit idly by.

So, all of a sudden we're expected to believe that he’s going to stay with Donna and her family and just hang out on earth like a regular human? I doubt it. He even said it himself to Rose in Season 2, when trying to justify why he can’t settle down. "You can spend the rest of your life with me. But I can't spend the rest of mine with you." If bi-generation had have happened to Peter Capaldi’s 12th Doctor, I might have accepted it better because he said he wanted to rest. It would’ve made more sense there.

And lastly, but probably most importantly, everyone loves a bit of nostalgia, but bringing beloved characters back from the dead to get ratings up again isn’t a good enough reason. In reality, it just reeks of lazy writing or a lack of creativity, and in turn, a lack of closure. The whole point and poignancy of a show like Doctor Who is that The Doctor must change and move on, as we, the audience, have to move on.

When someone plays The Doctor, they do it for a limited time but they leave a lasting legacy. Having Tennant on standby undermines that. I want the writers to invest in their new actors and have faith in their new adventures instead of having earlier models waiting in the wings.

So for me, the best thing about these three specials and the finale wasn’t that Tennant didn't have to say goodbye this time. It was that Gatwa finally got to say hello...

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forgottenlivesobverse · 2 years

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‘Scene to Uncover’

Cody Schell, our cover designer, also wrote ‘Scene to Uncover’ for Forgotten Lives 2, a story of the ambiguous Graeme Harper Doctor. He tells us more…

What made you want to write for Forgotten Lives 2?

I’ve always loved the idea of the mysterious, and at one time apocryphal, Morbius Doctors, and the mystery they embody. It’s also a worthy cause to fight an illness that has affected my family.

What's your story about?

A darkened theatre in a liminal space in which the Doctor is able to interact with a performance that is actually a two-way communication from the deep past, just after Event One.

What did you most enjoy about writing for this version of the Doctor?

Funny enough, I had some influence on the idea of how this Doctor was developed. Paul Hanley and I frequently have rambling conversations where we talk about our ideas for characters and fictional worlds, things we will probably never have a chance to write. In light of the Jodie Doctor, we were sort of bemoaning the lack of diversity amongst the Morbius Doctors (although now they feel all very different, after Forgotten Lives 1 and 2) I jokingly suggested that maybe one of the Doctors was actually female and sometimes wore a ‘slightly psychic beard’ on her adventures. Paul ran with this idea when drawing the Harper Doctor, which in turn influenced Aditya Bidikar’s story in Forgotten Lives 1. It was great for me to then be able to be influenced by Aditya’s version of this Doctor. It was fun to give this Doctor some backstory, and maybe more importantly explain why we see this lack of gender diversity in Time Lord culture.

What were the influences on your story, and what genre were you writing in?

I loved the idea of doing something about pre-film entertainment, but also something sort of Twilight Zone-ish, where there’s something weird happening and it’s not necessarily sci-fi. I thought about how unreal the Celestial Toymaker feels and wondered, what if he came from some street outside of time, a street with a toy store, a theatre, a cafe. This is the story of the Fountain Theatre and the Usher in charge of it. Just as the Toymaker has his realm, so does the Usher.

Aside from the one you've used, which of the Forgotten Lives Doctors is your favourite?

The Camfield Doctor is my favourite design of Paul Hanley’s, and I remember Cold Fusion felt like such a special book at the time. Just in general, Obverse Books tries to carry on the whimsical, experimental weirdness of the ‘Wilderness Years’ more than anyone else publishing Who-y stuff, although the Gary Russell era of Big Finish did a good job of that too. It’s things like Cold Fusion, Verdigris, Scherzo, The Year of the Pig or Sky Pirates! that really made me interested in writing Who-ish stories for myself.

Can you describe your story's Doctor in three words?

Curious, Pensive, Delighted!

#graeme harper #morbius doctors #forgotten lives 2 #doctor who

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eccentric549 · 1 year

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Classic Doctor Who: Marco Polo.

I don't really have a lot to say here regarding the episodes plot. But let's start with Reconstructions. This episode was lost in a fire if i remember right. (please correct me if im wrong.) As it's the first Reconstruction we will be talking about its best to actually talk about what it's like watching a Recon. If you've listened to many Doctor Who Audio Dramas from Big Finish, it's a bit like that but way worse. Because these episodes weren't designed to be seen this way, sometimes there's stuff going on in the show, like fights that defy description, or characters moving between rooms, or quietly interacting with objects. These parts break my attention span. And the screenshots of the episode that exist(while kinda cool) dont do a great job of communicating what's happening. To fix this, they have captions that explain some of the finer details. These captions dont really help, although without them, these episodes would be impossible to stomach... so.... i guess they do help. It just doesn't feel like watching TV. It's like watching a slide show.

This particular reconstruction was actually pretty neat, though. As the images were all in color. This is the only time this occurs, so it feels worth mentioning.

As for the racist elements of doctor who. I'll probably have to explain this every time yellowface comes up. I think yellowface is both cheap and gross. However, it's not enough to make me detest an episode outright. Usually, I'll mention it to my partner and move on. It's absolutely worth criticism and brings the episode down. But the episode is usually still watchable, even if it's gross. But for episodes like Toymaker or Talons, i have much more to say, and both of these examples i did not finish the serials.

So, with that out of the way, what DO I have to say about the plot?

It's a pretty funny episode. Marco is as unwavering and unreasonable as The Doctor and their battle of wits is incredible at times. Marco is so immediately willing to believe the unbelievable. However, he uses that information to his own betterment always at others' detriment. He is bringing a child to be wed to an old man. He is stealing the TARDIS to buy his freedom from Kublai Kahn. And the Kahn is wonderful. I won't lie. My history knowledge about the Mongol rulers is shotty at best. But it was refreshing to see the bbc not paint the mongols as all encompasing and malicious. They felt distinctly human to me, which is a lot more than i can say about episodes like Talons.

I'd be down if people were to tell me otherwise, but i thought this episode was tasteful and really really funny. I didn't mention the companions here, not because they aren't important. They are just a lot of the same, excellent acting. Ian is the anti-gaslighting brigade. Susan makes friends witht he girl who is to be wed and teaches her a lot. Barbara, as a history teacher, knows the plot but can't tell marco because.... duh. And it's all just very fun, very light-hearted.

#doctor who #barbara wright #susan foreman #ian chesterton #marco polo #series 1 #william hartnell #review #classic who #nuwho

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spacewhalewriting · 7 years

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Of Legends and Fire: The Beginning

Chapter 1

“The world is not in your books and maps.”

Silwen had considered this a funny statement for it was Gandalf who had often been the carrier of a new tome to her little cottage doorstep. In a way she was frightened, but it was a buzzing, excited kind of fright; once, when she was what could have been called a child, she’d dared climb to the very top of a ruined tower in the very edge of Annúminas and looked over the lake. Something had beckoned her to the very edge of that crumbling stone and even as every step felt like swift, tumbling death, it had livened her. Once she’d climbed so very carefully back down, taking almost twice the cautious time going down than she had up, she had never elected to try it again.

That morning however, she locked the door behind her and slipped the key around her neck, stepping directly out onto the roadway and taking a deep breath. It’s now or never. Fingers digging into the leather straps of her pack, she set off into the misty morning at a brisk pace. They were to meet in Hobbiton; it was a little more than a few days easy journey from her cottage, but the faster she walked the less likely she felt she would turn back to the comfort of the familiar.

She was a small creature and wholly unremarkable, a sturdy young woman with thick dark hair that grew frizzy and untameable from her scalp and dark, sober eyes. A small but hefty pouch in her pack contained all the coins she had in the world; she carried no weapons but her hands and a walking staff that was little more than an oak branch. Other than these things, she left everything precious behind her. Her cottage and the things she had made for herself there. Many ago the dwelling had belonged to a strange old woman, but no more. As it faded into the mist behind her, Silwen did not wonder when she would see her home again, but what lay ahead. For six hundred years she had lived on the outskirts of a small town under the shadow of the ruins of Annúminas, for six hundred years she had traded her skills to the villagers that came to her as they had come to the old woman. They came seeking every remedy and poison- the binding of a broken bone, a charm to make a lover remain faithful. They whispered about the girl who lived in the cottage as if a spirit, but they came nonetheless.

The enormity of the task presented to her by Gandalf had perhaps gone naively past her understanding, but the reward of the journey that lay ahead of her had captured her interest far more than any fear she had of the unknown.

_______________________________________

It took only hours for her to reach unfamiliar country, but with her maps she reached Hobbiton well on time for a morning market. She stopped at one of many stalls selling fresh produce and bought a few apples for a coin, biting immediately into one and stowing the others in her pack with the other hand. A small gaggle of children ran around her so closely that if she had elected to wear her normal skirts instead of traveling trousers, they would have become entangled. Still, stepping back to let a few by, she inadvertently backed into another and knocked the small thing to the ground. The small hobbit child took a single look at scratched palms and immediately his chin began to wobble. She hesitated for a second, considering the child’s distress as if it were something damp that she wouldn’t like to touch, and then made herself dig back into her waist pouch for a chip of amethyst crystal.

“Come now littlest one, don’t cry. Give me your hands.” She said, crouching down to his level. Shyly scrubbing at his face, the little one did and she gave over what she was hiding, opening her hands over the child’s to reveal the shard unfolding fragmented wings. His eyes went wide with amazement, his mouth making a very small but perfectly formed “o” as it fluttered in place there as a crystalline butterfly, its wings making delicate tinkling sounds. “Would you like to keep it?” She asked him. He nodded vigorously. “I’m looking for a master Bilbo Baggins. Do you know where he lives?” The child had to try a few times before he could get anything out but she waited patiently for him to rush through a jumbled, child-speak version of what could be directions. It was good enough and would have to do, so she let him run on, carrying his new treasure.

With these directions she did not arrive until nightfall. It was a hobbit hole overlooking the valley with a little bound twig bench out front and perfectly round green door. As she approached she could hear a hum underneath the night crickets and soft swish of grass in the night breeze. The door was ajar and as she neared she could hear the drone of a dozen male voices together singing.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold To dungeons deep and caverns old We must away, ere break of day To find our long forgotten gold... It was enchanting in a way that she couldn’t describe; the way they sang touched something inside her and pulled as if by a chain, leading her inside and down to the flickering light at the end of the rounded hallway. Inside a fire warmed den there she came across the company Gandalf had described to her, thirteen dwarves and a hobbit that she could only assume was the owner of the home she intruded upon. Gandalf sat at the doorway, distracted eyes softening to acknowledge her over the gentle puffs of his pipe. Normally she would be ecstatic to see her old friend, but the dwarves song had woven a kind of spell over her that couldn’t be broken as long as their voices wrapped around her. It spoke to her of long lost desires and ancient lines unbroken, of once great kingdoms and longings that she knew little of and others she knew deeply. It spoke to her of gold.

It was within this enchantment that she first saw the leader of their company. He stood at the mantle, hulking in his furs and traveling cloak, but she did not see his face until he turned. Silwen could not help that she stood out in the company, and as the song had faded, he turned eyes upon her. When he did, the firelight caught his face in a smoldering glow- it highlighted his serious brow and the strength of his nose, his mouth an unforgiving line set with determination. His eyes, however, glowed in the firelight with the same enchantment that had taken her, an enchantment of memories and strength of desires. This was the first she saw of Thorin Oakensheild, King under the mountain. To her surprise he acknowledged her not with any greeting, but a curt dismissal directed to Gandalf instead.

“Very well that you insist on bringing our burglar along, but what right has this woman in our company?” Asked Thorin.

Traveling over the last few days she had come into contact with more than ever in her life, but this was the first point that more than one or two pairs of eyes had been upon her at the same time and it was very uncomfortable. She had no introduction to these strangers and no weapons at her disposal and so took this silently, flushing. Patiently, Gandalf came to the defense of his decision.

“I cannot be with you all of the way, and there are some things that are better sorted with magic.” He said. The dwarves erupted into chaos.

“What!” and “How are we to face a dragon without a wizard?” and other such things came from the dwarves, a clamor rising again quickly. Silwen stood with them, trying to get someone’s attention- any of them.

“Excuse me....!” There was no response from the company, tangled in their arguing. She gathered her courage and tried a little louder. “E-excuse me.” Shouts still. Overrun and having no previous experience to guide her, she struggled helplessly for a moment- she wanted to grab the tin cup before her and bang it on the table. While she couldn’t bring herself to make a fuss about it, she loathed being so easily trod on. But he was right in what he was implying- she knew nothing of weapons, but that was not her purpose there. What she knew of the world she knew from books and drawings, but she knew she wasn’t helpless or useless. As she pressed the disappointment and anger down, her hands clenched into fists. As she tried to suppress her temper the little merrily crackling fire in the fireplace flared, the little flames in every lamp and lantern in the house jumping.

“EXCUSE ME.”

Sudden silence.

“Master Baggins has fainted again”

“I know I am a stranger in your midst, and you are also strangers to me, but what bearing does that have on an impossible quest? I may be no more than a woods-witch, but from what Gandalf has told me you seek to reclaim a mountain with a company of little more than a dozen dwarves. No more than tinkers and toymakers yourselves. He has asked me to cook and heal and assist when he cannot- do I ask any favors of you in doing that? Do any of you know how to heal a burn from dragon’s fire?” She had been propelled onward by the force of her anger at having a helping hand batted away, but she was beginning to lose her courage. Between the gazes of king and witch ice met fire and inexperienced, the fire was beginning to be quenched. She wavered, lowering her gaze in a way that she hoped appeared humble. “My skills are at your disposal.”

“Very well.”

_____________________________________________

They set out the next morning at first without their burglar. Though Silwen had walked to Hobbiton, the journey ahead was much farther than would be best on foot. She was not much taller than the dwarves and fit quite neatly on a pony. Though her shyness wanted her to observe the company without interacting, she rode close to Balin for much of that day, for he had old, kind eyes and a polite manner, but found herself also taking pleasure in watching the carryings on of the much younger, less refined brothers Kili and Fili. Human men she avoided, for between her reputation and their nature, there was distrust on either side; but most dwarves she found to be staunch and earnest enough.

Over the next few days she got to better know her companions. Balin was the eldest of the company and nothing if not the wizened diplomat. Tough and tattooed, Dwalin she had expected to carry the same cold demeanor of the king, but he could be as gently spoken as his brother Balin. Oin and Gloin were another pair of brothers and her companions at the campfire pot; Oin preferred more spice in the stew and Gloin did not, so while they argued she made the meal as she wished and served it and they ended up liking it just the same. There were no complaints at the fire every morning and night. There was Ori, the scribe and artist of the group, Dori, who was arguably the strongest of the company and an eternal pessimist, and Nori, a musician who along with Bilbo kept quite close to the campfire and food. Kili and Fili were Thorin’s nephews and quite quick witted and handsome; they shared their uncle’s looks but little of his coldness. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were not Durinsfolk like the rest but made a merry gathering all the same; Silwen suspected that their motives for being on the quest were not dissimilar to her own. And Bilbo, strange out of place little hobbit, was somewhat jumpy but never did she doubt Gandalf’s faith in their burglar. If he was there it was for a purpose. Thorin she did not speak to unless spoken to and she tried not to appreciate any trait of his, as he seemed to take no effort to recognize any of hers.

Instead she was distracted greatly by the sights of the trip. Her pack was heavier than necessary- she hadn’t taken many, only one or two, but she spent much time with a book open in her lap, pointing at things she’d only seen before on pages and sharing her knowledge with any who would listen.

Gandalf was at the head of the company, but she kept her maps close at hand, noting how slowly they seemed to traverse the landscape; the world was much bigger than she had at first thought.

#oc #Hobbit #fanfiction

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