It has undoubtedly failed to escape anyone’s notice that this weekend is the fiftieth anniversary of Doctor Who. Doctor Who has a fanbase utterly unlike any other, and this silly programme has sculpted my life to a fascinating degree, and what follows are my reflections on what being a Doctor Who fan means to me.
Aside from a spell during the 1990s when my interest in the then-rested show tailed off into more profitable areas, like rock music, comedy shows and the (fruitless) pursuit of girls, I can’t think of a time when Doctor Who hasn’t been part of my cultural life. Yet, what Doctor Who means to me now is different to what it meant to me aged 7, when my addiction to the Target novels of broadcast episodes encouraged my addiction to reading and gave me a reading age of thirteen, or aged 21,when it was a quaint nostalgia piece for me, or even seven years ago, before the Glorious Return. But here we are – like childhood buddies who grew apart only to find our relationship rekindled, evolved into something a bit less self-conscious and more self-aware, and able to chuckle indulgently at our ups, downs, growing pains and occasional judgments of error (for me, mullets, stone wash jeans and an inexplicable obsession with third rate indie bands, for Who, take your pick – Bonnie Langford, Dimensions In Time, glam rock minotaurs…).
As far as I can recall, my fascination with and passion for the world of Doctor Who was intense and immediate. It was the most dominant of many crazes I nursed in my formative years, but far from the only one. When you’re a wide eyed youth, your obsessions are as intense as they are transient – at various times in my first decade, homespun, poky and unhip Doctor Who was competing with more commercial, flashy fare, from the androgynous popstars who graced Top of the Pops every Thursday, to the then-seemingly unstoppable juggernaut that was the ‘80s toy boom (Action Force, Transformers, MASK) and the slick cinematic thrills of Zemeckis, Lucas, Spielberg et al.
I still have a fondness for all those fads that fired my youthful imagination but that fondness is based almost entirely on nostalgia, residual warmth from the afterglow of a less complex time in one’s life. Doctor Who stands apart from this as it continues to exude a fascination and appeal that really is like a form of time travel. The shows I enjoyed unconditionally during the early ‘80s I now appreciate on multiple levels thanks to the way the show’s history and themes have been tirelessly documented, dissected and analysed between the pages of countless books and magazines, not to mention the eye-opening commentaries and special features that grace the dazzling DVD range. The series in its current incarnation is a special marriage of the essential elements that made the original series so unique and eccentric and the cinematic vocabulary of modern, film-style TV drama that when it’s on form, it can’t be beat. When it takes risks, with something offbeat like Love & Monsters, you realise what a gift the show’s unique format is for creative storytelling. When it falls short of its own standards or seems to be treading water, I still keep watching – critically but affectionately,the way you stick around for a good friend or beloved family member who’s let themselves go – you get frustrated but you’re always ready to pick up the piecesas they get their act together – or the way you ‘keep the faith’ as your favourite group goes through an ill advised change of musical direction, always holding hope that your faith will be rewarded with that glorious comeback, that “Yes, they’ve still got it” moment. Doctor Who has had more than its share of those dizzy peaks and moribund troughs.
Before the internet, you had to wear your faithful endurance like a badge of honour, in the face of your not-we friends’ uncomprehending head-shakes… and then you discover that being a fan isn’t a solitary activity. There are forums and fanzines, and behind these are real people, who you find a commonality with, a shared bond, they share your pain at sitting through dross like Timelash and Time and the Rani like a faithful hound. And these people are proactive, not the lazy stereotype of the socially challenged ‘anorak’. Well, not all of them. They make things, write things, organise events and pub quizzes, and travel around the country to hang out at conventions, where the guest list of Doctors, companions, extras and producers suddenly, imperceptibly, becomes secondary to strong, rewarding friendships, spanning sexualities, age groups, continents even. It’s enriched my personal life to such an extent that I can genuinely describe the effect as life-changing, life-enhancing certainly. There’s a culture, a commonality and a community – too broad and too deep for the small screen.
This is what being a Doctor Who fan means to me. Many years of pleasure, man and boy, thanks to not only the assorted talents who created the programme over the years, but also the equally diverse mix of people it can bring into your social orbit. To steal a phrase – not so much a programme, more a way of life.
Author biog: James Gent is currently writing and researching Flogging A Dead Parrot: The Complete Monty Python TV Companion (due out 2014), is interested in retro popular culture and his essays on Doctor Who have been published in the books Shooty Dog Thing (Hirst Books, 2010) and You & Who: Contact Has Been Made (Miwk, 2013)
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