TCAF 2013: Lille Carre's Heads or Tails

There's a lot of great work being done, but it's rare to find something that really speaks to me. Fart jokes, superheroes, and the autobiographies of oddballs generally don't do it for me. They don't stop me in my tracks and make me take notice. I can notice great craft, precision, and skill. Those are all admirable qualities, but doesn't mean the material resonates. There's beauty that leaves you bemused, and there's beauty that leaves you breathless.

That's the work of Lille Carré.

This year's greatest find at TCAF was Lille Carré's Heads or Tails. I hadn't seen her work before (her animation has been shown at Sundance, her art in The New Yorker, and more), I've been remiss, but the cover hooked me. The graphic nature of it, the idiosyncratic layout, the snappy colour and balance between aggressive, blocky shapes and delicate detail was just fabulous. The interior does not disappoint, although I am more drawn to her more graphic work than her traditional inked cartoons. Those are nothing to sneeze at, however; some are reminiscent of Gorey. Her work is united in its aesthetic and manages to plumb numerous different stylistic directions without breaking.

There's a sensibility here that's hard to pin down, an ephemeral mode of thought that defies being narrowly categorized. 

Her story Wishy Washy explores the danger of polar extremes, and to me, how they both destroy. Then again, that's a theme I explore in my own work (even if others don't, or refuse to, see it) so perhaps I'm just projecting. Part of every story is what we bring to it. But when I finished Wishy, I said, yeah. She gets it.

Carré's surreal slices of life and meditative musings are confident and bold in their use of space. She's not afraid to let her comics breathe, or use a double page spread for an extremely bare, irregular star shape. 

Her many one page pieces are like visual Haikus. Light with a dark subtext. Cartoon poetry. Just short enough for my ADD addled brain to appreciate.

Absolutely delightful.

She's already done phenomenally well, and I'd expect even greater things in future. This is one artist to watch. Like Lorenzo Mattotti, she makes it look easy. It's very annoying, in the best possible way.

Future of Comics and the Democratization of Culture

We're experiencing a massive shift away from the elites. It's never been easier to get work out there, yet it's harder than ever to get noticed. The bar is being raised as millions and millions of talented people get connected and toss their creations into the global culture ring.

The pace of change has accelerated. A lot is in flux. The old paradigm is outmoded and the new one hasn't fully formed. How is culture going to be monetized in the future? How will piracy be dealt with? The answers haven't been settled upon. The result? Instability and uncertainty as industries struggle to adapt to rapidly changing circumstances.

We'll see more authors and artists taking their work directly to the public, bypassing the cultural gatekeepers. Pamphlet superhero comics will dwindle with their aging audience, while and graphic novels will split into high end art objects and digital downloads. Subject matter will continue to diversify. New territories will open up as talented creators plumb formerly unexplored topics. The market will atomize into a bewildering array of niche interests. Big budget material will only be available for properties that can draw a large enough audience, and publishers will pick only the very best talent from the internet farm for high end print editions.

As programs improve, we'll see dynamic translation. It will at first be crude. Eventually advanced modelling and animation software will allow laymen to create comics and even movies of their own. We've already seen the baby steps in this direction.

The gatekeepers of culture continue to fall away. The day of Network TV (when ABC, NBC, and CBS dominated the airways) is over. You no longer need a publisher to reach the public. Elites can't restrict the public's choices. Culture is out of their hands, to whatever extent they were ever able to control it.

Major motion pictures remain collective endeavours, requiring massive amounts of funding, and as such will remain the domain of the elite for some time yet. But comics is being rapidly and thoroughly democratized. Anyone connected to the net can put a web comic up. Instead of a finite number of stories, a few dozen, coming out each week at your local comic book shop, there are now tens of thousands every day on the net to choose from.

If I were so inclined, I could buy every published comic every week from the local shop, and conceivably read them all without quitting my day job. That's not true of web comics. I'd have to spend all day at it, every day. Top Web Comics alone lists over 2,600 of them. All vying for attention.

Publishers of the future are going to be like flavours. Do you like vanilla, or Rocky Road? Perhaps you like bacon products with a hint of maple. Publishers will sift through the enormous wealth of creative material on the web and pull them together, using a coherent aesthetic vision, and then set it before the public for consumption. People will be able to seek out the flavours they prefer and plunge in. The challenge now will be to reduce choice into time manageable amounts. Paralysis through choice will be a real problem in the future. It will be a job in itself to find good material, and those with solid, populist tastes will be able to make a living at it.

That's one way publishers will remain relevant. And most people still love the feel of a beautifully executed book. The best work will be turned into printed art objects. Lesser work will fade into the abyss of the net's infinite memory hole and be forgotten, at least until a future generation contrarian re-evaluates it and foists it upon an unsuspecting but retro-hungry public.

As a consumer, I look forward to it. As a creator, I am thrilled by the opportunities the future presents, but also daunted by the challenges.

TCAF 2013: Blown Covers with Francoise Mouly

The New Yorker Art Editor Francoise Mouly joined Frank Viva and Anita Kunz to discuss the magic behind the famous images that grace the cover.

Mouly explained, in a wonderfully chi chi french accent, that it's all about dialogue. It's a general interest magazine, too, so all manner of topics can be covered. If they want to do cooking, they can; but they can also do golf and politics. Weee!

In 1993 Tina Brown sought to revive the dying New Yorker magazine. She brought in artists like Ed Sorrell and Art Spiegelman (Mouly's husband) to inject some life into it. 

One of the first and most controversial covers was by Spiegelman, who depicted a Hasidic Jew kissing an African American woman in a style evocative of Marc Chagall. It caused an instant firestorm. A hundred thousand subscribers fled, but even more joined. The goal? 'Lower the reading age down from eighty-three and a half... to eighty-two and a half.'

Spiegelman's explosive cover

A series of reinterpretations of the cover's dandy, Eustace Tilley (A satire of New York dandies by Rea Irvin, culled from an Encyclopedia Britannica illustration of the term), followed. Chris Ware did a sequential version, in his breathtaking crisp, clean style.

Chris Ware's sequential take on Tulley

Mouly even ran two covers submitted by readers.

Most artists make regular submissions of ideas. Mouly tells them to 'think of her as their priest.' Feel free to show me anything. Don't self-censor. Let the creative mind roam free.

Thought provoking, beautiful image by Anita Kunz

She believes that with a very simple idea and a pen, an artist can have an impact on the world. Even change it. She understands and accepts the need for visual shorthand, although the use of 'stereotypes' (having once employing a piece of Arab head gear on a boy jumping on a sand mockup of the World Trade Centre) got her denounced by Noam Chomsky. She strives to keep things nuanced, to avoid the easy didactic drum beat of the political cartoon. These are more sophisticated, nuanced. Oversimplification a no-no.

Lorenzo Mattotti, one of my favourites

Some covers are over analyzed for meaning. Frank Viva described a piece where he placed a white figure over a black background and a black pigeon over white background. People wondered about hidden meaning, racial subtext, but he often changes colours to fit the composition, and there was no hidden meaning. He just wanted the elements to pop forward.

Frank Viva's striking, graphic work

Mouly had to come up with the famous 9/11 cover within 24 hours. After retrieving her children, who were in school right by the Trade Centre, the last thing on her mind was the magazine cover. 'Everybody was lost, and so was I.' An outraged and worried friend told her to do no cover. That's where it started. Art Spiegelman suggested a black on black silhouette. Instantly, she knew: that was it. The perfect statement. No subtitle, no explanation. Exactly what was needed. But it would have to be subtle. Would it work on a web press? It did, and joined the list of other legendary New Yorker covers.

Artists submit to her constantly: ideas, sketches, doodles, thoughts. Most don't wind up on the cover, but you can get a glimpse behind the curtain at her hit blog: Blown Covers.

TCAF 2013: Tenth Year Anniversary Show

Checked out TCAF, the Toronto Comics and Arts Festival, on the weekend. Held at the Metro Toronto Reference Library, it brought together hundreds of graphic novelists, zine creators, caricaturists, artists, illustrators, and writers. Fellow dreamers with their inner thoughts laid out on table tops, realized in ink and line. It was a remarkable gathering of talent, and I'll be making a number of posts in coming days with highlights.

As always, the festival was well organized, the volunteers delightful, the parties fun, and the panels (mostly) intriguing. An inspirational experience. Fabulous and free.

State of Small Press Panel

Featuring Matt Moses, (Hic & Hoc) Bill Kartalopolous, (Rebus Books) Austin English, (Domino Books) Leon Avelino (Secret Acres) Jordan Shiveley (Grimalkin Press) and Anne Koyama (Koyama Press). A great panel of enthusiastic pessimists who live and breathe sequential art. They're in it for the work, make no mistake about it, and they'll stand firm against all odds 'so long as no one loses their apartment.' As another panelist said, 'If you know going into it is a bad business decision, which in a way it is, just make it sustainable and about the art.' The Dream cradled in pragmatism. Wise words.

And they do. Economic uncertainty means a short horizon, so their publishing schedules are guided by the success or failure of each work they lovingly present. One book at a time. 'How did this one do? Not so good? Okay. That's how many books we're doing this year.' They have to be careful not to overstretch. Some are pragmatic enough to have kept their day job.

Tom Devlin's defunct Highwater Books came up a couple times.

Still looked to for its quality, quirkiness, and innovation, it went under in 2004. Devlin was incredibly ambitious in terms of the quality he sought to deliver considering the companies' small size, publishing notables such as Marc Bell, James Kochalka, and Megan Kelso. He's at Drawn and Quarterly as CD now. I have Highwater's Free Comic Book Day Reggie 12, which is tons of fun.

None can tell what book will be a hit, nor could Devlin. 'If I tried to pick out books I thought would be huge hits, it would be a disaster.' Books that look like sure hits fail, and long shots wind up succeeding beyond all expectation. As they say in Hollywood, nobody knows anything.

All have a very clear vision of what they want to publish; each a distinct identity and feel. They're conductors, putting together a symphony of artists, a collective that becomes greater than the sum of its parts and emerges, in the end, as a distinct brand. All the pieces have to fit with the others. Its one of the reasons why you must always look at what a publisher is putting out before submitting. Cellos won't fit in a rock band. Death metal guitarists aren't going to get a spot on the London Philharmonic, and superhero books aren't going to fly at Koyama Press. Look at the material publishers print before you submit to see if there's a fit. Be honest. It'll save you cash, and them time. Win win.

Each puts out six to eight books per year. Since they already have a stable of artists, that means only one or two spots are likely open for new artists. One of the self-described smaller small publisher said they received an unsolicited submission every other day. That's roughly 175 per year, for one or two spots. Roughly a one per cent chance. Great compared to the lottery, okay for a click through rate, but not so good for dreams. Which is why being printed by a publisher is more the cherry on top than the ice cream these days. Getting your work up on the net is the new first step.

Not coincidentally, publishers are finding new talent by surfing. All follow Tumblr. Anne Koyama is blessed with no need for sleep, so she prowls the internets at night, hunting talent. That woman has an eye for it. People who are doing notable work eventually will weed into their consciousness and, if the stars are right, prompt them into offering the artist a publication deal.

So there you go. If you want to get noticed, do the work, and put it online.

Everybody loves the net. It's great for marketing, and helps expand the audience base, rather than cannibalize sales. Don't worry about that. Tumblr just builds audience for the print version. It is hard on distributors, however, and makes things incredibly competitive. Hard to hold attention.

If I were so inclined, I could buy every published comic every week from the local shop, and conceivably read them all without quitting my day job. That's not true of web comics. I'd have to spend all day at it, every day. Top Web Comics alone lists over 2,600 of them. All vying for eye balls. So it can take time and perseverance to get noticed. That's key for publishers: they want to see not just that you have talent, but that you're sticking around, too.

And none of them want to hear artists complain about how difficult things are. It's hard for everyone. 'Save your complaining for your significant other or your cat.' If you don't celebrate yourself, no one will. So plug. Promote. Show enthusiasm for your work.

One of the publishers who was originally from Europe commented that in France, if you grow to a certain size and are sustainable, stable, you're considered a success. In North America, you aren't a success unless you're growing. Constantly. Stasis is death. A very interesting observation, reflective of Europe's age and the wild expansion the United States experienced as it flooded West across the North American continent. That mindset still echoes.

While they aspire to get into the big bookstores, the accomplishment is a double edged sword, as it opens them up to book returns. They also need to work farther in advance, to a more set, stable schedule.

Some general notes: All look to the quality of Drawn and Quarterly books now (Tom Devlin again, who popped up at another panel). There are no government grants for pamphlets (hey, this is Canada), and most stores won't stock them; they're good for cons and that's about that. And never scan your black and white linework in greyscale.

Kris Kuksi's Infernal Sculpture

Kuksi's sculptures are almost fractal like, with smaller and smaller levels of detail becoming evident as you get closer.

Kris Kuksi's a mad Missouri sculptor who's work would fit in with any worthwhile depiction of Hell; his disturbing sculptures mash together high art and kitsch to stunning effect. I just can't stop looking at The Damned things. If there's to be a cinematic Hell, he absolutely has to be on the design team. Best of all, there's a delightful satirical edge to these macabre, operatic tableaus, an irreverent glee, which I find irresistible. His impish, iconoclastic outlook has something in common with England's equally provocative Chapman Brothers.

Finding beauty in the grotesque is Kuksi's forte. As his website describes, each sculpture takes countless hours to complete, as hundreds or even thousands of separate elements have to be altered, treated, and then assembled. 

I am particularly fond of his church tanks. Why, oh why, didn't I think of those? I have tanks ghosted into the background of crowd scenes, but none with churches for turrets. Brilliant and hilarious, but the thought simply never occurred to me. 

Kuksi's Church Tank

I only wish I'd discovered his work earlier. It reminds me of the work of the Symbolists, who were obsessed with sex and death, and the art of Felicien Rops in particular.

Sentimental Initiation by Felicien Rops

Rating the Doctors of Doctor Who

They rate physicians, don't they? So there's no escape just because he's a Time Lord. This is the final of a three part look at The Doc.

These are gut impressions, of course, and shouldn't be seen as an appraisal of the actor, only their performance within the context of this particular show. The result is dependent on not just their own acting choices, but the scripts they are given, the actors they must play against, budget and time limitations, and the guidance of the producers and directors. 

Each Doctor's performance had strengths and weaknesses. There are two ratings for Baker given how dramatically different his performance is between when he started and when he left. While Baker put more emphasis on comedy in the latter half of his run, he was funnier when his eccentric humour broke real dramatic tension. Without that juxtaposition, it's just Baker hamming it up on set.

The early and the late era Doctors from the original show I saw the least of, so take it all with a grain of salt. 

Evolution of a Graphic Novel Page

Keeping to a schedule means I have a limited amount of time to spend on each page. Once the first draft is done, however, I have the luxury of going back and embellishing. Like George Lucas but less reckless.

Or so I like to think.

Working digitally has many drawbacks, but the ability to alter and update pages as you go is a big positive. Everything is in a state of flux until the last 'i' is dotted, the last 't' crossed.

This page is a case in point.

Below is the first draft version of the City of Dis. I wanted to create a very detailed cityscape, with unique architectural details that rose out of the circumstances of the inhabitants. Many of the buildings, for example, have no doors and few windows; the entrance is at the top, so wingless demons have a harder time breaking in. Many are fortified due to the high crime rate and frequent fighting between ornery clans. Towers are ringed by broad round plates, giant versions of what we use to keep squirrels off of bird feeders. Spikes on the roofs keep away the giant demon pigeons. Those can be messy and who want loiterers on their roof?

 

Most buildings are heated by the River Phlegethon, which burns below; there are smokestacks because many demons smoke (profusely and literally) and they need to let it out somewhere. Houses have appeared on the bridge as the population has expanded.

Civic building in the foreground (a bit of a cheat, that; covers over a lot of city detail) has both windows and doors because it's heavily garrisoned. Watchtowers to keep an eye on the denizens of Dis. Fortifications are adjacent to the North side of the bridge to control crossings.

The bridge support struts have spikes facing downward to keep the gigantic amphibian infestation from climbing up and making a mess. 

That was the first version. It was time intensive to set up and organize, but never really had as much character as it needed. There weren't enough points of interest for the eye to linger over. With the second iteration, I set out to correct this deficiency.

Here's the updated version:

 

Building on the framework of the first draft, I've gone back and added a lot of personality. Statues now adorn towers next to the bridge, which is a common feature in Europe (The Palace Bridge being a great example). Loud speakers spew propaganda at travelers as they cross, and cannons and bunkers have been added to the defenses on the South side. A fast food restaurant chain sign now rises above the city, along with a prominent statue.

More elaborate decorations, gargoyles, and artistic flourishes have been added. As the city is thousands of years old, I wanted to hint that buildings were built in different eras.

The former civic building has been updated to include a casino for demon gamblers. Every sin is a ministry: Ministry of Wrath, Ministry of Envy, etc. Not necessarily always situated in the appropriate ledge. Sorry about that. A great tomb sits out front, for the deceased (or imprisoned within) casino founder. Beneath that is an anti-aircraft gun to frighten off pesky pooping dragons. They're worse than pigeons. Ten ton lizards leave awful large droppings.

Sewer exits have been added above (and in) the river.

A great, hideous spider-like monstrosity has been incorporated into the city. Shelob Shopping Centre? Probably spins web material in exchange for food, stayed too long, and is now partially encased by buildings.

Power lines have been strung over the bridge haphazardly. Technology is slowly seeping into Hell's urban centres and in the next book heavy industrialization will begin.

A suicide (or masochist?) dangles from the bridge. Beneath that is a subway rail line. In an even later update, I added in a train.

Before it was purer, more united, less chaotic. The ideal. Now the city looks more lived in, like a real place. Messier. You can almost smell the stink of it.

You can see the rest of the book here.

Top Ten Doctor Who Stories - The Must-See Classics

These are all from the first run of the show, in an earlier millennium, when it was shot in a closet on a shoe-string budget. The writers weaved wonderful tales for kids, and the actors sold them with great (periodic) gravitas. They could make you believe bubble wrap was a deadly threat... but then, little kids are rather forgiving of this sort of imaginative play. I view all these with thick nostalgia goggles, and as great as I think they are, times have changed. TV and film have about ten times as many cuts now as they used to. The Deadly Assassin is very tightly paced, but some of the other episodes are heavily padded. 

 
1) Genesis of the Daleks

The Doctor, Sarah, and Harry are dispatched into the past to prevent the creation of the hateful pepperpots. Terry Nation's masterpiece, he gleefully rewrites the history of his most famous monster while exploring issues of morality in times of conflict. 

Set on the ravaged husk of Skaro, where a thousand year war between two cities walking distance apart has wiped out the rest of the planet. In the underground bunker of the Kaled Elite (aka Space Nazis), The Doctor tries mightily to throttle the Dalek baby in its crib, but finds his own conscience the greatest obstacle. 

Davros, their creator, is the piece de resistance here, superbly played by Michael Wisher, who owns the role like no other. The definition of a power mad scientist, his charisma (if a blind, wizened, green skinned prune can have charisma) makes him persuasive and unique. His confrontations with The Doctor crackle with energy. 

The tone is dark, but Baker throws about witticisms and bon mots like hand grenades, detonating the tension and reinvigorating the drama but never breaking the suspension of disbelief. That's handled by the giant clam creatures.

2) Pyramids of Mars

The Doctor and Sarah Jane arrive at a British mansion where the antiquities collection is on a killing spree. Features the best villain in Who history: Sutekh The Destroyer, an alien mistaken for a God (bet that happens all the time), voiced by Gabriel Woolf. The actor's choice to go silky smooth instead of blustery or grating makes him all the more menacing, elevating his villain from the pack in the same way Wisher super charged Davros by flitting from one end of the vocal spectrum to the other.

Sarah Jane shines, and the interaction between The Doc and Sutekh is right up there with his confrontations with Davros. Tom Baker adds his usual irreverent witticisms to the mixture of sci-fi and horror and the whole thing proceeds at a relentless pace. To top it off, the mummies lumber in a way easily imitated by ten year olds.

3) The Caves of Androzani 

Peter Davidson's swan song is also the last decent serial of the original series. I won't even attempt to describe the plot. It's got something to do with mercenaries, drugs, androids, and revenge. Just watch it. The villain Morgus (John Normington) is a lying, deceitful, manipulative prick of epic proportions.

4) The Deadly Assassin

Because the other kind gets less work. The Doctor, framed for murder of The President of Gallifrey (his timey-wimey home world), must go into a virtual reality to prove his innocence. It's The Matrix, only twenty-five years early. Also the first exploration of Time Lord society, which is suspiciously class based and oh-so-British.

Alternately horrific or hilarious, it received complaints at the time from Amy Whitehouse, which put an end to The Doctor's 'darker' period and left the show emasculated. For shame, Miss Whitehouse.

5) The Robots of Death

The Doctor and Leela arrive aboard Storm Mine 4, a giant Sandminer, and are caught up in a murder mystery--with them as prime suspects. Who could see that coming? Agatha Christie meets Robopocalypse. Splendid. The sytlized design of the robots, vaguely terracotaa warrior, is another masterstroke by the costume and prop team.

Leela rocks as the savage warrior, a particularly violent but lovely fish (barracuda?) out of water. One of my favourite companions, wishy-washy pacifist types can't handle her cut-throat approach to man-eating monsters ("Shall I kill it, Doctor? Shall I?"). She is awesome. Makes 'Rose' look like a piece of plastic driftwood.

6) The Ark in Space

A leisurely paced adventure set on a mysterious space station infested with green painted bubble wrap pupae, it borders at times on hard sci-fi. The sets are superb, the acting excellent, but the alien Wirrn design leaves something to be desired. This is one menace that can be walked leisurely away from, with time to tie your shoe and have a smoke. Admittedly scary when I was a child, and didn't know bubble wrap was (mostly) harmless.

7) Masque of Mandragora

Shakespeare meets Who. Or is it Machiavelli? BBC period drama skillZ are harnessed to create genre goodness. Imagine Hamlet being invaded by an aliens mid-play. Just what that it needed, too. Written by Louis Marks, it bears the imprint of editor Robert Holmes, who was endlessly fond of mixing alien threat and historic setting.

It's almost educational.

Almost.

Also boasts a wood-paneled, steampunk control room for the TARDIS (It has never looked classier), snappy dialogue, and outdoor shooting. Consistently underrated classic.

8) Seeds of Doom

A seed pod falls from space, and The Doctor and Sarah Jane must stop it from germinating and taking over the world for Vegetable Kind. The Thing, essentially, only on steroids. Well. High quality fertilizer? Bit Day of the Triffids, too. Long but wonderful, the bit players (Chase and Scorby in particular) are fun and full of personality.

The Doctor's showdown with a bureaucrat is one of the funniest in the show's history, but the horror of the Krynoid is never undermined. Even the effects work is above parr for Who.

Amy Whitehouse was offended, writing 'Strangulation — by hand, by claw, by obscene vegetable matter — is the latest gimmick ... it contains some of the sickest, most horrible material.' I loved it. Take that, Whitehouse, you kill joy. I will strangle you with my obscene vegetable matter.

9) The Time Warrior

A crash landed alien potato head reaches out from medieval times into the future for scientists to help repair his ship, attracting the attention of UNIT and The Doctor. Introduces both intrepid reporter / revolutionary agitator Sarah Jane Smith and the time travelling Sontarans, worthy adversaries of The Doctor.

Actor David Lindsay's performance is something to behold: buried beneath a domed helmet and a potato head prosthetic, he brings real menace and alien mannerisms to the Sontaran Linx. It's an instantly iconic performance that ensures their return. His interactions with the would-be warlord Irongron, played by David Daker, are hilarious but work wonderfully in context, as medieval and space-borne militarist cultures clash.

The rebooted series turns the Sontarans into a plastic imitation, buffoonish caricatures, more Colonel Blimp than alien menace. Pathetic. Without Lindsay, Sontarans are good for comedic relief and little else.

This story establishes writer Robert Holmes' staple combining historical period with alien threat, and he handles the medieval era with aplomb.

Sarrah Jane is more than a meddling reporter: the first thing she does after being thrown back in time is start organizing a peasant rebellion. She does the same thing on Skaro in Genesis of the Daleks. That's my Sarah Jane! You can't take her anywhere without her stirring shit up. Her next brightest moments are seen in Pyramids of Mars, where she proves quite the marksman. Makes 'Rose' look like a Barbie Doll with a speech impediment. Sarah has more brains and depth by far. Think Marianas Trench vs. street puddle.

Plenty of location shooting around English castles adds atmosphere and a bigger budget feel to the proceedings.

10) The Talons of Weng-Chiang

The Doctor and Leela arrive in Victorian London only to find murder afoot (when is murder not afoot in London?): women are disappearing and gigantic rats roam the sewers. I would rate this one higher except for the casting. When I was little, I didn't realize it, but the main Chinese character, Li H'sen Chang, is actually played by a white guy (John Bennett). He does a great job, but still. TVOntario wouldn't rebroadcast it due to racist content. Yikes.

On the other hand, some of the best dialogue in Who history resides in this six part, flawed gem. Robert Holmes at his best. Professor Litefoot and theatre owner Henry Gordon Jago are inspired creations, and Litefoot's interactions with Leela, trying to explain the concept of tea time, are sublime. Phantom of the Opera meets Time Cop. Baker decked out as Sherlock Holmes is the cherry on top.

But don't look at the giant rat too closely, it's someone's a fur coat with whiskers sewn on. Pretty sure.

11) Terror of the Zygons

Fantastic costumes, quirky Scotsmen, and great atmosphere make this superlative. The only downside is the Loch Ness Monster, which is a hand puppet. Probably made out of a sock. Well, so what. These are things we overlooked in the Old Times, when we walked uphill both ways. Spoiled Youngling audiences may not be so generous.

One of the last great UNIT family stories.

On a side note, Zygons would be a real hit at cocktail parties. Disguising themselves as one person or another, they could really mess with heads. Think about it.

Had to include it in the top ten. So what if it makes the top ten eleven. Douglas Adams wrote a five part trilogy.

Honorable mentions: Enlightenment, City of Death, The Dalek Invasion of Earth, The War Games, Planet of the Spiders, Robot, The Hand of Fear, Horror of Fang Rock, Warrior's Gate, The Visitation, Black Orchid, and The Awakening.

Celebrating 50 Years of Doctor Who

Not many programs that began fifty years ago are on the air today, even in rebooted form. Yet Doc Who's stood the test of time, fifty years worth, and is likely to be with us in one form or another for the indefinite future. Popular in Britain, it's just a cult show in North America, a wildly geeky niche program that few watch or pay attention to. A guilty pleasure from childhood, like Twinkies or Ho Hos.

The dietary equivalent of Doctor Who

More subdued than Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, but quirkier than Star Trek. As a long time fan of sci-fi, I thought I'd take a time out to celebrate one of the whackiest and longest running franchises out there.

Concept

A man in a blue police box travels through time and space. All of time and space. In a box. A police box. Is that brilliant or what? It's the Ultimate Narrative Engine™!

You can tell any story, go anywhere, in any genre: horror, comedy, drama, adventure, action. The real shame is that the program has pushed the boundaries so little. Impossible to live up to the limitless, but it does bode well for the long term future of the program. This baby can be endlessly reinvented. Few shows celebrate imagination the way Doctor Who does.

Originally intended as an educational children's program, it quickly became far too popular and entertaining. An educational show with a compelling premise and fun ideas? Can't have that. The angle was dropped like a hot Quayle potatoe in favour of space aliens armed with whisks and toilet plungers, and was better for it. Couldn't have both; Michael Crichton wasn't available.

The show's veered up and down the audience age range ever since, from toddler appropriate to college student age bong show. All flash and dash, with nary an educational sop.

The franchise became Mysterious Alien Threat meets Ingenious Solution. Every week, brain wins over brawn.

The greatest restriction the program faces is imposed by the executives themselves. Typically The Doctor arrives in the company of a spunky female, runs around, discovers a mystery, solves it while simultaneously helping his latest traveling companion have an emotional epiphany. Occasionally, just to mix it up, The Doctor has the epiphany.

Quality wise it's got a range as great as time and space. One of the best stories, Caves of Androzani, is followed by one of the worst, The Twin Dilemma. This is to be expected when the show's framework is so loose. Too many variables for writers to reliably deliver, too few recurring characters, constantly changing setting, no ongoing soap opera to hang on to.

It really is the British equivalent of America's Star Trek. More intimate than Trek's sleek space cruiser, the TARDIS carries a civilian crew of one (plus hanger on), rather than hundreds. Instead of a dashing paramilitary Captain, it's commanded by an eccentric Doctor.

Captain Kirk carried a gun, banged space babes, kicked ass, and got his shirt ripped off every episode. The Doctor, in contrast, wears a bow tie, carries a (sonic) screwdriver, hates guns, defeats opponents with the power of his intellect, cowers from physical combat, and has never taken his shirt off.

The difference between Superpower America and post-Imperial Great Britain in a nut shell.

The Doc has a screwdriver, but Kirk has a BFG. Image by Summerset

And then there are the Red Shirts. Pretty handy to have supply of disposable people aboard (Helps build up the villain's threat), but The Doctor makes do with fodder he finds along the way quite nicely.

Or he did, for twenty odd years. Spiralling downward, out of quality control, it was put out of its misery in 1989, only to be resurrected in 2005 by Russell T. Davies as a hyper stylized, outer space version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Only less mature, with burping waste receptacle monsters, farting aliens, and characters who 'sneak' like they're in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Kids loved it. It was a colossal hit across the pond, and has done well internationally. Slapstick and kids go together like peanut butter and jam.

They also like to be scared, and the show's steadily upped the ante in this area since 2005.

Unique Features:

1. - Can be set in any time or place.
2. - Science Fantasy rather than Science Fiction.
3. - Casting changes every few years. Companions are replaced, The Doctor regenerates (is recast).
4. - Conflict ranges from micro (personal) to macro (the universe) in scale, and beyond (time itself, the multiverse, reality, etc). Often both.
5. - Has numerous iconic monsters and villains.
6. - Draws on over thirty seaons of programming history over a period of fifty years.

The Characters

The Doctor: An endlessly curious, impossibly brilliant sci-fi tinkerer, The Doctor overcomes powerful adversaries with his ingenuity. He is a Time Lord, an alien species, and travels through time and space using his vehicle, the TARDIS. Eccentric, irascible, deeply compassionate, and haunted by the things he's done to keep people, and the universe, safe. Doesn't use a gun but not averse to blowing up planets.

Hartnell and his magical blue box

Here's the original proposed character description by script writer Cecil Webber:

DR. WHO: A frail old man lost in space and time. They identify him by title because they don't know his name. He vague and mysterious and seems to not remember where he has come from; he's also suspicious and cranky and capable of sudden maliciousness. Stalked by some undefined enemy, he's searching himself for something unknown. He has a "machine" which enables him to travel through time and space.

Quite a change: from his initial conception as a morally ambiguous anti-hero Luddite (The Doctor is further described as a man who hates scientists and progress and is out to 'nullify the future'), to Christ-like! How the idea has evolved. The show wouldn't have been sustainable if they'd kept him so unlikeable; producer Newman labelled the 'nullify the future' idea 'nuts,' and instead revised The Doctor into a more fatherly figure. The Luddite angle was also cut.

The current iteration is an eccentric, irascible but loveable do-gooder, as he should be. The rebooted show does try to add ambiguity by making 'The Doctor Lies' a catch phrase, and giving him bouts of megalomania (The Waters of Mars). Shortlist.com even includes The Doctor as one of the show's ultimate villains. Hey, just what you want for a children's show. Can't wait for Dr. Evil's Neighbourhood! Be better than that sod Jimmy Savile's show, anyway.

His Companion: Frequently a pretty and plucky young lady with a heart of gold and a penchant for getting into trouble. Tough enough to get out of it as well, and even save The Doctor when opportunity presents. Balances The Doctor's lonely male traveler with the female aspect and keeps him grounded in what it means to be 'human'. Every now and then a gooseberry is added to the cast in order to be killed repeatedly. None has yet been called Kenny and worn an orange hoodie.

The TARDIS: A time machine that looks like a police box, it can travel anywhere in time or space. Bigger on the inside.

Technical Limitations

Known for wobbly sets, hallway chases, rock quarries, and no budget effects, Doctor Who was originally shot on a small sound stage (closet) in typically one take. Effects were minimal to non-existent, and the sets barren. Missteps were incorporated into the show to avoid re-shoots.

"Young man, why are you wearing that ridiculous outfit? Oh, wait…"

Wild imagination and convincing performances were all the show had to go on. Kids were transported away entirely by the writer's words and the actor's craft. The Third Doctor, Jon Pertwee, a former comedian, always took the alien threat seriously; otherwise, there would be no reason to, as it was obviously made out of cardboard. Children have a great capacity for make believe, to enter a shared illusion, but you have to believe it to sell it. Do that, and presto: cardboard becomes space armour.

Great performances transcend wobbly sets and monsters made of duct tape and toilet plungers. The power of imagination shouldn't be underestimated.

Course, nowadays kids are spoiled by realistic effects. Dinosaur hand puppets won't do.

I can't help but think something ineffable has been lost.

Creativity

They say limitations are the mother of invention. Something like that. Whatever. You get the idea. The show's writers delivered, and were backed up by prop and costume designers, such as Raymond Cusick, who were truly inspired. The Daleks are a sterling example of this.



Created by Terry Nation and designed by Cusick, the Daleks appeared in the second story and were an instant hit. Visually striking steel pepper pots armed with whisks and toilet plungers, they rolled about the sound stage grating 'Ex-ter-min-ate!' They didn't just look inhuman, they acted inhuman. Alien. Unearthly. One of the few creatures in sci-fi that genuinely seemed alien in both form and action, they captured the imagination of the British public.

Four generations of Daleks

Dalekmania saw these hateful aliens adorn lunch boxes and pajamas. Survivors of a horrific nuclear war, they'd become grotesque, stunted mutants requiring 'travel machines' to function. Perfect villains for the nuclear age.

That Cusick was able to look at a pepper pot, or salt shaker, and extrapolate from that a wildly impressive design for an alien travel machine is the very essence of creativity.

Other high-concept aliens followed: Cybermen, Zygons, Ice Warriors, and Sontarans all have achieved iconic status. What's particularly impressive is how striking the costumes are considering the incredible limitations the show was under both financially and technically. The power of the crew's imagination triumphed over every obstacle. On the other hand, Season 17 featured a giant glowing green penis in a pit.

There are off days.

Rise and Fall

They say the Golden Age of the NHL is between ages 10 and 12, and the same holds true for Doctor Who. Each generation has not only a different Doctor, but a different show. Tom Baker's early years, in PBS and TV Ontario reruns, were my Golden Age of Who.

This era (late Pertwee, early Baker) is hailed by many in North America as the show's zenith, in part because earlier Doctors like Hartnell and Troughton were never broadcast here, making it harder for them to compete.

I have a vague memory of being at a friend's house watching Pertwee's Doctor. I think it was my first exposure to the program: big orange bubble creatures with one claw and no legs popped up around a mansion and attacked British soldiers. Had no real idea what was going on, but it was riveting.

They look a lot better when you're five.

Baker's early run was overseen by the tag team of Philip Hinchecliffe and Robert Holmes, two brilliant gentlemen who emphasized gothic horror and aimed the show at an older audience (14 year old boys instead of 8 year old boys). They combined horror with hard sci-fi in stories such as The Ark in Space and The Robots of Death. Classics from other genres were reinterpreted for Who. Frankenstein was grist for the mill. Robert Holmes was an educated man who wove in political subtext, just as Barry Letts had introduced Buddhist themes. The era was great but didn't last. Like a flu virus, it mutated into something new after a few seasons. Mary Whitehouse clutched her pearls. Hinchcliffe moved on. The show lightened the tone. Ratings fell and never reached those same heights again.

And I grew up.

Sort of.

Pertwee's era was adventure and action oriented. Baker's later years emphasized humour, satire, even farce. Hell, Douglas Adams was the script editor. Every era of the show has pushed in a different direction, which keeps it fresh while simultaneously annoying people of different ages.

Of course, my Golden Age was better than your Golden Age, whichever that was.

The show experienced another decline after Baker left. Peter Davidson buoyed it as best he could, but it went into free fall with his departure. Collin Baker took over, and a combination of poor choices by the show runners sank his tenure. Sylvester McCoy snapped up the falling mantle and led Who in the Twilight years, when the show became convinced it was alternative theatre. Only alternative theatre had a bigger audience and after several sub-par seasons the show was shut down in 1989.

The Hinchcliffe-Holmes era is so celebrated it has spawned an entire horde of contrarians who endlessly lambast it as overrated. Instead, they laud the genius of Collin Baker and Sylvester. The poor bastards. It's rather sad.

Rebirth

The show had to change to return.

Old Who was as prim and proper as the new is flashy and glib. Where BBC english once dominated, slang and regional dialects now run gleefully rampant.

Wobbly sets have given way to spiffy CGI, and the paternal Doctor himself has morphed into a geeky sex symbol, getting younger every regeneration, Benjamin Button style. Justin Bieber will be next, and the last will be The Gerber's Baby. Teletubbies will replace the Daleks as the main adversary.

The Doc is now buried under a universe worth of ghosts: the entirety of the Time Lord people have been wiped in a conflagration that consumed the Daleks as well. The Doc himself sealed their fate. Kirk lost red shirts every time he left the ship, but it never seemed to bother him unless they had a speaking part. The Doctor, however, is haunted by the cost of this dreadful war, giving him some added depth.

Yet everything is arch, said in an ADD rush. Fast paced, breathless, manic to the point of incoherence. Melodramatic. Character is front and centre, but the nature of the show makes it hard to develop any but a few recurring ones. Companions now come with living footnotes: families and lovers, but seem flatter than ever (Donna being a wonderfully loud exception).

Shorter episodes give less time to develop new settings and relationships, so they wind up being even more archetypal. Stereotype shorthand is essential.

Yet Sarah Jane Smith, for example, strikes me as more real than Rose Tyler. There's no there there, as it were. She's a Mary Sue, a shell, a caricature, not a person. Harry Sullivan was also more believable, yet I have no idea if he was married, if his parents were alive or dead, or what he did in his spare time. Same with Sarah Jane. I know Rose Tyler's parents are divorced, she dated Mickey, worked in a chip shop and was a gymnast, but she's still flat as a board (metaphorically speaking).

Tacking on a list of traits ('Likes jam') doesn't make a character.

Golden Age still trumps.

But there is an undeniable energy and zeal to the new show that can be infectious. A sense of fun and wonder when it's on game. Steven Moffat, who succeeded RTD as show runner, is a man willing to experiment and push boundaries. He has woven complicated plot threads across multiple seasons, introduced River Song, who meets The Doctor in reverse order (her first meeting with him is his last with her, and vice versa) and toyed with time travel like taffy. A very, very clever chap. Perhaps too clever for the show's own good. He's taken it in a new if convoluted direction that may alienate younger viewers. He's also not above taking a cheap, paradox laden route out of a plotting dilemma, depending on the frenetic pacing for cover.

The show's now seems to be a well constructed (or splashy) scene that has an episode, rather than well constructed episodes with scenes. If that makes sense. Everything seems geared to set up one moment. But that's it. The lead up engineers it, and what follows is just filler. 42 felt like that; the pod rescue was the only interesting thing about it.

Episode concepts like Asylum of the Daleks make great trailers, and sound super fun (same goes for Dinosaurs on a Spaceship!) but otherwise don't deliver on the promise of the premise. How do we engineer an excuse to put dinosaurs on a spaceship? Okay. Actually, I rather liked the Dinosaur one. Matt Smith's delivery of the eponymous line was magnificent and full of blatant glee. Right up there with, 'His brain's gone, Jim!' But the cinematic, high-concept direction has left a trail of duds behind it. Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS in particular was senseless bollocks. The Bells of Saint John was an excuse to run a motorcyle up a building. Akhaten had The Doctor show down a sun. The Crimson Horror was just, well, horrible. Fun moments, great ideas, but empty calories. The whole doesn't exceed the sum of the parts, which is what you really want. Blink did that with aplomb. So did Girl in the Fireplace. Of course, everyone knows those two episodes are great. Who wants to hear accepted wisdom regurgitated?

The show may be feeling the pressure of trying to deliver a motion picture every week (the latest gimmick being to frame each episode as if it were a feature film), an almost absurdly ambitious goal. It's commendable in many, many ways. Aim high. But most aren't fully baked. Endings have been especially lacklustre: often a speech, a song, or an emotional moment causes the villain' heads to explode. You don't need guns when your villain can be killed by tears and a good cry.

Other programs have greater structural integrity thanks to recurring characters, locations, and ongoing plots. Emotional moments in Who often leave me flat, even as the music swells and I realize I'm supposed to be feeling something. Under the weight of all they must deliver in 45 odd minutes, it collapses. A difficult show to write for, to be sure.

Moffat's very ambitious multi-episode story line arcs may pan out, or may not (supposedly the 50th anniversary episode will wrap up his dangling threads). Either way, Who's better for the attempt.

Every show runner has put their own stamp on it. There's little reason to worry if you don't like the current iteration (whatever and whenever it may be). The premise is so strong that it will inevitably be rebooted with a new vision. As show producer and Buddhist Barry Letts might say, the only constant is change.

The feature film every week approach, complete with poster!

So while the superb, understated acting seen in Downtown Abbey never seems to seep into Doctor Who (perhaps if they increased episode length), my criticisms are hardly relevant: the show is more successful than ever. Must be doing something right. The target audience is considerably younger, too, so short attention spans must be constantly kept in mind. A large audience is necessary to justify a big FX budget.

I can see some form of the prorgram still going a hundred years from now. The idea, appropriately enough, is timeless. I included numerous references to the show in my graphic novel Warlord of Io, a sci-fi celebration.

My review of the 50th anniversary episode, Day of the Doctor, can be found here.