The (re)Generation Gap
There are, of course, many Who fans out there for whom Who is a recently discovered passion. For whom the 2nd Doctor is David Tennant rather than Patrick Troughton.
But with nearly 50 years of material where to begin.
Luckily Matt is here to help us plug the (re)Generation Gap.
But with nearly 50 years of material where to begin.
Luckily Matt is here to help us plug the (re)Generation Gap.
4th of March 2011
Episode 1: An Unearthly Child
By Matt Crossman
So Christmas day finally arrives and with it Father Christmas leaves me the blu-ray box set of Matt’s Smith’s debut season as the good Doctor. After much unwrapping of presents and being unusually civil to each other James, The Wife, and my good self settle down to watch the first few Matt Smith episodes before guests arrive and we gorge ourselves on an over sized turkey. The Wife is happy with this. Despite having no affection for ‘old’ Who she has loved the series since it came back in 2005. James is wallowing in new Who and barely takes his eyes off the television despite being surrounded by a plethora of new presents. He really is quite smitten with the programme.
We break for lunch and then collapse into sofas and chairs. It’s then I break the news to James that a brand new Christmassy episode will be showing at six this very evening (he really does seem to resent that his Mother and I have seen these episodes of Who before. It’s like we should have read his tiny brain when he was born, realised that six and a half years in the future he would become addicted to the programme, and waited so we could all sit down and watch them as a family). The eardrum piercing scream of delight that followed my announcement still rings in my ears some two months later but it was worth it.
Two days later (and three viewings of “A Christmas Carol) I took James into my office to show him my Who collection (I call it ‘my office’. The Wife refers to it as "the place I go to fart around on the computer instead of doing something more useful". It’s a mouthful but she has it down pat).
“These, James,” I said motioning in a grandiose manner at the heaving shelves of Doctor Who DVD’s “are all the Doctor Who stories that have been released so far.”
“Wow!” Said James “So which one is the first ever Doctor Who story?”
I retrieved it from the shelf, blew the dust from the box, and presented it into his little, sweaty, grubby hands.
“C’mon, Dad, let’s go watch it!” He enthused a little too eagerly.
“Now are you sure?” I asked. “It’s in black and white and the…erm…special effects are not quite as good as you are used to.”
“I’m sure it’s brilliant.” He said.
I was not so convinced. Here is a boy who has access to a Nintendo Wii, a Play station 3, a Nintendo DS, and always insists on blu-ray when we purchase new films (sounds like a right spoilt little shit, doesn’t he?) How would this 21st Century lad cope with something that came out before even I was born? Oh well, we would soon find out. By the time I had caught my Son up he had already slipped the disc into the player and had cranked the amp up nice and loud. By the time I had taken my place next to him on the sofa he had already found the menu.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Yep.” He replied clutching a cushion to his chest. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is it scary?”
“Shall we find out?”
“Yeah.”
Soon that familiar music was filling the living room and then there we were, in a fog shrouded street, in Trotters Lane (it was at this point that I realised I had made a mistake and had put on the pilot episode. Never mind, I’m not a big one for false starts.)
I won’t go into details. If you’re reading this in the first place then it’s a safe bet that you have seen the episode before but my surprise was that we made it past the first hurdle at all. Don’t get me wrong it’s atmospheric and full of mystery and a great introduction to the series but would it appeal to a six year old? As the end credits rolled I looked across at James. He was transfixed, eyes glued to the screen.
“Do you want to watch episode 2?” I asked pensively.
“Is a bear Catholic?” he replied (actually he just said “Yeah”). So on we went. This was repeated with the end of each episode. There were no toilet breaks, no breaks for drinks or a biscuit, no stopping for a spot of colouring. He watched the whole darn thing from start to finish. The Boy’s table manners may leave a lot to be desired, but you have to admire his stamina. Finally it was done. I had stifled a yawn or two. After watching so many fast paced Matt Smith episodes I found it a trifle over long and dull in parts but not The Boy.
“That was fantastic!” He enthused as soon as it ended.
“You liked it?” I asked somewhat incredulously.
“Brilliant. Really, really, brilliant”. You could have knocked me down with a menoptera wing.
“What story’s next?” He said jumping up from the sofa.
“Ah! I think you might like the next one even more.”
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