Fighting off Dalek Invasions with Sonic Screwdrivers Disguised as Bits of Stick
I read Twist’s blog today. It sheer geekness makes me look normal. I am glad his review of Doctor Who episodes and comics is out there as it saves me from ever being tempted to perform a similar service. I have a few quibbles though. He still owes me a massive ‘You were right’ about Marvel’s overtaking DC in terms of creative quality. He does not make enough of the insane daring of Millar’s Civil War and he is not angry enough about the diet of horseshit we have all been fed with Infinite Crisis. However, if you crave otaku-like analysis from a man of scary talent levels, it is a bit of the web worth searching out.
In England at least, Doctor Who is no longer a pure geek thing. I know this may be hard to believe, but I some real life women watch the show these days. One of the things I have enjoyed most about this new season of the show is that it has been a shared experience. It is no longer a guilty solo pleasure. I have not only watched it with established fanboys like Matt, I have been able to sit on the sofa and enjoy it with the company most ungeeky of companions, glass of wine in one hand, cheese and biscuits in the other.
Most importantly, it is back as a playground game. Another generation fighting off Dalek invasions with sonic screwdrivers disguised as bits of stick. Doctor Who fed my imagination and the imagination of countless other children whilst stretching our minds to get around the paradoxes of time travel and scaring us to bits. Now it is doing it all again. It was genuinely thrilling to see kids running down the road last year shouting out: “Are you my mummy?” By itself, that fact guarantees in 30 years time Doctor Who – in some or the other – will still be around.
Who is in the language, (when even estate agents describe overpriced cramped boxes as TARDIS-like…) it is in the shared cultural continuity and the Doctor himself has become one of those archetypal English heroes who represent the noblest aspirations of the national psyche.
Whilst Doctor Who is as English as toasted muffins and tea on a cold autumn afternoon, it is also universal. This is not down to the concept being able to go anywhere in space, but because at its best it deals with human themes more ageless than any Timelord. None of the three men aged 30-plus who have talked to me about Who over the last couple of weeks have focussed on the geeky sci-fi stuff. They have all independently mentioned being blown away by the emotional content of the episode School Reunion and its killer line: “Some things are worth getting your heartbroken over.”
Years ago, in the era of rubber-suited monsters and Airfix kit special effects, Doctor Who took my young mind on journeys across time and space. In the CGI present, it takes my cynical old heart on a sentiment roller coaster. If that makes me a geek, so be it. Although despite today’s aberration, I am not going to start writing English Dreaming, English Otaku.
In England at least, Doctor Who is no longer a pure geek thing. I know this may be hard to believe, but I some real life women watch the show these days. One of the things I have enjoyed most about this new season of the show is that it has been a shared experience. It is no longer a guilty solo pleasure. I have not only watched it with established fanboys like Matt, I have been able to sit on the sofa and enjoy it with the company most ungeeky of companions, glass of wine in one hand, cheese and biscuits in the other.
Most importantly, it is back as a playground game. Another generation fighting off Dalek invasions with sonic screwdrivers disguised as bits of stick. Doctor Who fed my imagination and the imagination of countless other children whilst stretching our minds to get around the paradoxes of time travel and scaring us to bits. Now it is doing it all again. It was genuinely thrilling to see kids running down the road last year shouting out: “Are you my mummy?” By itself, that fact guarantees in 30 years time Doctor Who – in some or the other – will still be around.
Who is in the language, (when even estate agents describe overpriced cramped boxes as TARDIS-like…) it is in the shared cultural continuity and the Doctor himself has become one of those archetypal English heroes who represent the noblest aspirations of the national psyche.
Whilst Doctor Who is as English as toasted muffins and tea on a cold autumn afternoon, it is also universal. This is not down to the concept being able to go anywhere in space, but because at its best it deals with human themes more ageless than any Timelord. None of the three men aged 30-plus who have talked to me about Who over the last couple of weeks have focussed on the geeky sci-fi stuff. They have all independently mentioned being blown away by the emotional content of the episode School Reunion and its killer line: “Some things are worth getting your heartbroken over.”
Years ago, in the era of rubber-suited monsters and Airfix kit special effects, Doctor Who took my young mind on journeys across time and space. In the CGI present, it takes my cynical old heart on a sentiment roller coaster. If that makes me a geek, so be it. Although despite today’s aberration, I am not going to start writing English Dreaming, English Otaku.
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