With the 50th anniversary of Doctor Who - alongside discoveries of previous lost episodes (most recently those from the Web of Fear and Enemy of the World) - it seems an apposite way to celebrate Who's longevity and enduring cultural and by documenting my own temporal travels through the entirety of the classic Who televisual canon. Accompanying me on my journey will be my own very special companion: a well thumbed copy of The Doctor Who Televisual Companion:
Without anymore ado, onto the first story: An Unearthly Child, and The Tribe of Gum (collectively known as 100,000 BC).When I saw these (for the very first time) back in the 1990s, I recall being rather bored - I was of the Pertwee era, transitioning into that of Tom Baker, so black-and-white Who seemed rather dreary and passe. On a second viewing, I find there is a great deal to appreciate here. An Unearthly Child is an apt title: Carol Ann Ford's portrayal of Susan is convincingly fey-like and alien - by all accounts, even more so in the scrapped first recording of the pilot. Indeed, this episode is marked by many tropes of the weird - verging on the horrific - which, as a child, I came to associate strongly with Who (especially during Tom Baker's tenure): mist-shrouded streets and other desolate landscapes, an air of unearthly menace, and a powerful sense of the horrific lurking at the edges of the screen. This is why I have often considered Doctor Who to be as much horror as science fiction. Indeed, as I have documented on another of my blogs, my early experiences of watching Doctor Who played a significant role in shaping my incipient love of the weird and horror genres. Far from seeming quaint, the fact that these early episodes are in black-and-white now only enhances the sense of strangeness which permeates the first of Who's outings.
Of the remaining three episodes, whilst not offering much by way of a story (the Doctor, Susan, Ian and Barbara coming into conflict with a group of cavemen over the ability to make fire), they are redolent with a wonderful creepiness, accented by the grainy black and white and by the incidental music's eerie soundscapes. There is also some real tension in the story (especially in 'The Forest of Fear') bordering on actual horror as our protagonists come to realise how desperate and life-threatening their predicament has become. Jacqueline Hill's acting here, whilst somewhat melodramatic, does on occasion convey quite powerfully a sense of utter panic at being thrust into a wholly alien - even virtually incomprehensible - set of circumstances. Notably, the character of the Doctor is in its very early stages of development, such that he comes across as morally ambivalent if not callous: effectively abducting Ian and Barbara against their will, and at one point apparently on the verge of killing a wounded caveman.
Overall a great piece of classic televisual sci-fi which, if lacking in plot, makes up for in atmosphere. In this respect, I consider these initial episodes to be superior to more recent iterations of Who. Don't get me wrong - I have the utmost respect for what new Who has done to revitalise and re-popularise the brand. Indeed, I've watched every episode of the new series. But still it leaves me a little cold, fails to engage me in a way that An Unearthly Child and The Tribe of Gum do not. New Who is a little too slick, a little too reliant on cgi, and too dependent on appealing to modern viewing sensibilities for my tastes. Certainly more than a few of the 6 or 8 part stories from classic Who eras contain padding, but I much prefer the pacing of these which often allowed for a more nuanced expression of things lurking in the shadows which recent Who is missing.
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