It's been a while since I wrote a blog, but I'm going to try and compose one anyway.
Only a year or so ago I finished a Doctor Who rewatch. I did the whole of the classic series and the TV Movie. There was an intention to continue with NuWho, but the Classic series speaks to my nostalgic obsessions, and so it didn't feel right, at this time, to do a NuWho rewatch. I should add that I have done NuWho rewatches before. Maybe too many. Maybe I feel like I've watched it to death. I just didn't feel the desire on this occasion.
So if I've only just recently completed a Classic Who rewatch, why am I drawn to watch again so soon?
Now, look, there's no chance of me doing another full pilgrimage. I just don't have the time for that, but there's a certain era I am constantly drawn to. A certain type of Doctor Who that constantly pulls me back in, begging me to pull out the DVDs and Blu-rays and soak myself in them again. And really, I just wanted to put my thoughts down on the digital page as to why I feel a pull to this particular era.
And that particular era, if you haven't already figured it out from the blog title, is Seasons 1 to 4. This, for the uninitiated, and I doubt there's anyone out there reading this who doesn't know, encompasses the entirety of the William Hartnell era and Patrick Troughton's first season.
So, why Seasons 1 to 4?
I truly believe this ties into those nostalgia vibes again. But that can't be right, surely? I grew up watching Day of the Daleks, Pyramids of Mars, and The Five Doctors. So why am I not drawn to them? It's very hard to explain. Very hard to unpick. But I think at the core of it are a number of different factors. So let's first look at the nostalgia factor.
The very first William Hartnell story I ever saw was The Daleks, which I still refer to as The Dead Planet.
I was seven years old when it was released on VHS in 1989. My dad had bought it for himself, and also for me to watch. It was a Friday night and we sat, with the lights off, as these weird black-and-white images played out before us on his 14-inch TV set. Even now, whenever I get to the end of “The Ambush” and Ian realises they've left the fluid link in the city, I still feel the need to switch VHS's over!
Not long after, I saw the pilot version of An Unearthly Child when it was shown on BBC2 in 1991. I thought they'd landed on Skaro and that the shadow on the landscape at the end was a Thal. It blew my mind when I eventually got An Unearthly Child on VHS and discovered three other episodes I had no idea existed! I was so confused because I had no idea that there was a caveman story following on from that.
The details of what came next in my own jigsaw-puzzle collecting of the stories become a little fuzzy, but I suspect it was The Dalek Invasion of Earth. There's home video footage of me, recorded in the early 90s, sat on a Sunday afternoon with the curtains closed at my dad's flat, watching the story. Eyes transfixed on the screen as the Black Dalek wheels around, issuing out his orders. It was probably this story that made me a Dalek fan and caused me to embark on the insane collecting of Character Options Dalek toys that I have amassed over recent years.
Sometimes, as a kid, when I was walking about, I'd imagine the Daleks chasing me through the streets of Grimsby. I'd walk past power stations and imagine they were Dalek cities. I'd play with friends by old, uncovered air-raid shelters, imagining the Daleks emerging from them. The Daleks were everywhere, and it was because of those black-and-white stories that I'd come to love them so much.
I don't want this to become overly long, but suffice to say I long for those days. Days when the world didn't seem so dark. When I could lose myself on a Sunday afternoon in a monochrome world and know that the Doctor could save me from the monsters. And it says a lot when I admit that I'd rather face the monsters from the minds of 1960s Doctor Who creators than the real monsters of 21st century Earth.
So nostalgia definitely plays a part in that. A huge part.
And stories came thick and fast through the 90s. I was very lucky to have a dad who loved Doctor Who and would buy the VHS's as they were released. And then there were the inevitable UK Gold recordings that his friend Eric taped for us, and later my Uncle Rob. My dad was also one of those people who had seen the stories on original transmission, so he would tell me about how he was frustrated that he missed the first part of “The Survivors”, episode two of The Daleks, because my grandad had taken him to watch Flipper at the cinema. He'd recount his memories of seeing Marco Polo. He clearly remembered the TARDIS being taken across the desert, the condensation running down the walls, and much, much more. I'll have to get him on the podcast one day.
But my imagination was fuelled by those memories of missing stories, stories I'd likely never, ever see. If only we could tap people's memories, eh? And I think that endeared the era to me even more. The fact that, yes, we could watch The Rescue and The Ark and Tomb of the Cybermen, but we'd probably never see The Smugglers or The Myth Makers. What were these fabled stories? My dad had seen them. But I wasn't jealous. I was enchanted by the memories. Again, there's another home video of me reading through an issue of DWM, reading the list of missing episodes out to my dad.
Goodness me, nothing existed of The Massacre? And what do you mean they wiped Patrick Troughton's first story? Utter madness! And we had fragments. We had episodes. We were airdropped into the middle of stories like The Enemy of the World, and forced to figure out, firstly, where we'd been before, and secondly, what happened after. No amount of Peter Davison or Sylvester McCoy filling in the gaps would suffice. We needed to see the whole lot.
My fascination with the missing stories peaked during my mid-teens. I was 14 or 15 and had attended a sci-fi market at Grimsby Town Hall with my friend Alex. There, a dealer had offered him episodes 1 to 3 of The Tenth Planet. Wow! How could we refuse? He bought it, knowing full well that there might not be anything on the tape. But the chance of experiencing a Doctor Who story we'd never seen before was too much to pass up. This was new Doctor Who to us, and not only that, it was forbidden Doctor Who. Doctor Who that couldn't be released because it didn't all exist. We went to his house, switched off the lights, and pressed play, watching these utterly terrifying, sing-song Cybermen striding out from the snow. And even as we reached the end of episode three, there was still that faint glimmer of hope that episode four would begin.
It didn't. Obviously.
But the real gold on that bootleg VHS was the cine clips. Oh my word! What was this? Silent footage from 1960s stories? No. Surely we weren't allowed to have this. Did anyone else know about this? Were we the only ones, and the dealer, of course? And what stories were they from? Oh no, there were scenes from The Chase. But we already had that. But then - but then - there were clips from The Macra Terror. From The Faceless Ones. Scenes from The Savages. And was that a clip from The Massacre? It had to be. IT HAD TO BE!!
It wasn't. It was from the Doctor's chat with Katarina towards the end of The Myth Makers. Still magical, though.
Alex and I were drunk on these missing clips. We were so young and naïve, and even went as far as to contact the BBC, asking if they had access to these clips. When the BBC didn't show any interest, we attempted to sync up sound to the silent clips ourselves by pointing a video camera at the TV screen, hooking my Walkman's headphones over the camcorder's microphone, and pressing play on the relevant clip from The Macra Terror. God, it took so much effort to get them synced up. And I still remember the hours I spent trying to actually locate where these clips came from.
We are missing so, so much. That's not a new statement. Others have said it before. But think of the amount of Douglas Camfield direction we're not seeing. The playful little moments from Troughton. The utter horror of the end of The Daleks’ Master Plan and the entirety of The Massacre. It's a crime that we can't see this.
But I think this adds to my love for the era. The fact that these stories are fragmented. That they're lost and missing, and even now we're still trying to cobble them together. There's still that tantalising hope that we may wake up tomorrow and discover that Power of the Daleks has been found. There is still new Classic Who left to watch, and that is such an exciting prospect! Maybe one day I'll be able to close the curtains in my living room, with my cheese on toast, as I bask in the Daleks screaming at me that they “will get their power!”
I think the other reason why I am so drawn to this era, and I'll keep this short, is because this is a show finding its feet. Seasons 1 to 4 changes every single story. One day we're on the planet Dido, next we're meeting Nero, and then we're on the planet of the space butterflies. We have something new and modern like The War Machines sandwiched between the very Star Trek-esque The Savages and the pedestrian, but still fun, The Smugglers. Troughton is still cooking during his first few stories. We have a very different version of Jamie McCrimmon in The Highlanders.
It was during Season 5 that the show settled into a style and a rhythm. It felt safer and more secure and stable. And that's good. That's great. There are some amazing stories in Seasons 5 and 6. But it's those first four years that capture my imagination, that I find myself coming back to time and time again. I only have to hear that sting of Tristram Carey's music in The Daleks and I'm back on Skaro, a ten-year-old boy wanting to explore the Dead City with the Doctor. I only have to see the shot of one Macra claw from The Macra Terror and I'm a teenager again, hanging out with my friend Alex, hooking headphones to camcorders. Falling out because he secretly bought episodes 1 and 3 of The Faceless Ones and wouldn't let me have a copy! I was 15. I was obsessed with this stuff!
Well, that came out longer than I'd expected, and it probably only just touches the surface of what this era means to me. Even now, as I type, I'm thinking of going home and popping on Galaxy 4. Well, maybe not Galaxy 4, but you know what I mean. And while we still have missing stories, there will still be new Classic Who to watch. And that's incredibly exciting, isn't it?
One day, they shall come back. Yes, they shall come back...
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