Passacaglia and Fugue

Book Review: Who on Earth is Tom Baker? - An Autobiography, by Tom Baker
Having read biographies of Hartnell and Troughton by family members, and Pertwee's autobiography, and detoured by a Kindle deal on Elisabeth Sladen's memoirs, this, having been on the shelf for many years, was the next logical step. It's a curious approach, written by a curious man. Born into poverty in 1930s Liverpool, Baker was assimilated by the Catholic church, only to be spat out again (probably to everyone's benefit). On this reading, his acting career could best be described as faltering; it's well known that he was working on a building site when he landed the part of Doctor Who. In this volume he is generous to many, and critical of a few, but doesn't always come across as a particularly likeable character. There are some powerful words about how destructive a state of poverty is for a person, clearly written from experience. He writes fondly of his years as The Doctor, but in a rather odd way. One does get the impression that he was, indeed, acting somewhat as himself while reading the lines given to him.

Book Review: Moon Boots and Dinner Suits, by Jon Pertwee
The third in an occasional series, this is a rather tricky book to review. The fact is, the strapline "The early years of the man who was Doctor Who" is rather faint in the online artwork, and the title is rather suggestive of the Time Lord himself, so I did feel a little short-changed. On the other hand, it is written by the man himself.

Most autobiographies gloss over childhood in the first chapter; Pertwee makes rather more of his. Descended from the French Perthuis, his more recent ancestors were also theatrical; whilst he didn't rate his father's acting ability on the occasions he saw it, his father was a successful writer in the early years of Hollywood. A few patterns quickly emerge, and do grate a bit as the book goes on. Firstly, Pertwee failed at most things, and was variously expelled or otherwise removed from schools and early jobs. Secondly, everything was a great adventure (perhaps sometimes leading to the former); there are an awful lot of scurrilous anecdotes. Thirdly, he was fairly naïve and yet indestructible: various escapades, including motorbike accidents, caused no long-term harm, and did not change his behaviour.

The most interesting part of the book covers his war years. Again, there is a notable lack of success, but as he began to adapt to naval life, the book becomes more serious. Eventually stationed on HMS Hood, he had a lucky break in being reassigned shortly before it met its fate. The final chapter skips a dozen years or so after the war, to focus on The Navy Lark. Although it's an entertaining read, there isn't much scope for reflection, but it is more than superficial.

Book Review: Patrick Troughton - The Biography, by Michael Troughton
Quite a few years ago now I read a biography of William Hartnell, and Tom Baker's autobiography sits on the shelves awaiting me. But I felt I should read them in the right order, and therefore the gaps needed to be filled. It was one of those projects that got paused - and paused some more. So, 2020 was the ideal time for a relaunch.

Written by one of Troughton's sons, this is a decent account of an interesting life, from an early age destined for an acting career, diverted in World War II to service in the Royal Navy around the coasts of Britain, perhaps an odd decision after returning to the UK from the USA at the start of the war and being on a boat attacked as it approached the British Isles. Troughton started off in the theatre, but was drawn to radio and particularly television work in its early days, with quite a portfolio of character roles. Despite the long list, whenever he was out of work, it seems to have been a precarious financial situation, not helped by what would be described at the very least as an unconventional personal life with a second family that was somehow kept secret for many years. So in fact Patrick Troughton was comfortably middle-aged and a well-established actor when, after some uncertainty, he took the part of Doctor Who in 1966, a fact that I find very easy to overlook, probably because he just seems so much younger than William Hartnell. It's interesting to note that his preceding work included pieces with many other actors who had roles in Doctor Who, not just Hartnell, but also Roger Delgado and Frazer Hines among them. Afraid of becoming typecast, and often unenthused by thin stories and effects, he nonetheless succeeded in the role for three years, and as Colin Baker has said, if it wasn't for the second actor to play the part, none of the others would have either.

Returning for the 1973 anniversary story The Three Doctors, it seems his sparring with Jon Pertwee was not just to the camera. His fears of typecasting were of course unfounded, and a stream of further work continued right up until his death in 1987 (I recall one of his last appearances in the first episode of Inspector Morse). Returning again to the role of the Doctor in 1983 and 1985, he was persuaded to join the convention circuit (there seems to be a continuity glitch in this section of the book, as Ace's props would not have been auctioned in 1983); sadly he died while at a convention in the USA. Despite health problems, he had continued to over-work himself. This feels like a sincere attempt to document Troughton's life, inevitably with occasional sentimentality through the lens of a son to whom he was a "part-time father", but with a life like his, such an account could only be written by someone close to him.

It's been a shorter season than usual, but the hole in my Sunday evening is easily filled by writing up my thoughts on the season. I've enjoyed Jodie Whittaker's Doctor, and the three companions - I don't think this has made the programmes intrinsically over-crowded, although it does feel that sometimes one of the companions is a bit of a spare part. If you were to cast back to the early years, then I do feel that there's a symmetry between Graham and Ian - the man who thinks he should be in charge, but has to realise he's completely out of his depth. On the whole, as a man of our times, Graham perhaps does this more gracefully, or with less of a struggle. Yas and Ryan don't match Barbara and Susan, though; perhaps Ben and Polly might be a better comparison there. As you might expect of a police officer, Yas takes it all in calmly and considers a course of action; Ryan is the easy-going type who finds it best to just fit in with the others.

Taking the stories chronologically, The Woman who fell to Earth was a reasonable first story. I did feel it was very dark (literally). It was sad to lose Grace so early on. The Ghost Monument could have been better. I thought this was a good storyline that was somewhat frittered away. Art Malik could have been a much more interesting villain. Perhaps this should have been two parts. I was apprehensive about Rosa, because it's playing with almost contemporary history and politics. I thought it was well handled, though Krasko was insipid and easily dealt with. Arachnids in the UK turned out to be better than I expected, mainly because I could see the resonances with The Green Death. But again the villain was very one-dimensional and unrealistic, as was his demise. Obviously the episode's spooky nature was tied to Hallowe'en. The Tsuranga Conundrum could have been better if it hadn't had such a silly CGI monster. It was a bit reminiscent of the adipose. The rest of the story held up well, all things considered.

Again courting controversy, Demons of the Punjab was probably the high point of the season, successfully handling its subject, filling in Yas's back-story and with, as it transpired, benign aliens. Again, timing of this episode, on Remembrance Sunday, was important. I had mixed feelings about Kerblam!. Again it seemed to be derivative - in this case, one part The Sun Makers, one part Robots of Death and one part Face of Evil. But they were mixed differently - the computer system was asking for help and the corporation was benign - well, not really, but it seems that's the way we have been conditioned in 2018 compared to the 1970s. I enjoyed the reappearance of the fez and momentarily wondered if we were going to get a Matt Smith reprise, this being a (55th) anniversary year. The Witchfinders didn't work all that well, perhaps partly because Alan Cumming's King James was so out of balance from the rest of the programme. It takes you away could have been located anywhere remote, so the choice of Norway was arbitrary. Oddly, in the trailer I thought I'd seen a shot with an image reminiscent of Munch's The Scream, which would have made more sense in pinning it to a location (I offer that up freely as an opportunity for some budding writer's future story). Either that, or the episode could have been located near Bad Wolf Bay. The Battle of Ranskoor av Kolos was an indifferent final episode for the season, trying to pack lots (too much) of action in - again perhaps it would have been more effecive as two parts. I noted more derivativeness - this time, the crystal shapes reminded me of the Key to Time, and their subsequent contents fitted The Pirate Planet like a glove. The polyphase avatron would have been more entertaining than the Stenza, though.

Overall, I've not been blown away by the stories, but they haven't been terrible. From the start I didn't like the new theme arrangement; I've come to accept it, rather than thinking there's a fault in the signal, but I'm still not a fan there. I've concluded that I just don't like Chris Chibnall's writing. I didn't really get along with Torchwood and someone (I think either strange_complex or someone commenting on her journal) described the new series as "gritty", which I think may hit the nail on the head, though the stories have also ended up being quite simplistic and lacked any subtlety. For me, Doctor Who has at most only been "gritty" on occasion, but it's been a consistent thread in many of these stories. On that basis, it's no surprise that the two best episodes for me - Rosa and Demons of the Punjab - were both (primarily) written by someone other than Chibnall.