As the curtain prepares to fall on the Doctor’s tenth incarnation tomorrow night, Russell T. Davies will also step back behind the curtain as show-runner of the BBC’s “Doctor Who”. Here is a article written by Davies himself submitted to the Telegraph.co.uk giving his closing thoughts on the continuing legacy of the show, his go at it these last five years, and how “Doctor Who’s given me the time of my life”.
The first Doctor Who Christmas Special was transmitted on December 25 1965. The original Doctor (William Hartnell) was on the run from the Daleks. He landed in Twenties Hollywood, got caught up in a silent movie, then ended the episode by raising a glass and saying, “Merry Christmas to all of you at home” into the camera.
Sadly, that episode no longer exists. It was thrown out of the BBC archives many years ago, before they realised the value of old programmes. Perhaps there’s still a copy somewhere, gathering dust in a collector’s attic or retired technician’s shed. Have a look, would you? It would be a perfect Christmas present.
But then many years passed – cue the ancient creak of the Tardis engines, taking us through the vortex to 40 years later, and the next Christmas Special in 2005. And what a Doctor Who year that turned out to be. That’s when I clambered aboard the Tardis (as head writer and executive producer of the series). I’d spent my entire childhood walking home from school and imagining the sight of that old, wooden police box waiting on the corner for me, its door ajar. Finally, in my forties, it arrived. And I ran towards it, as fast as I could, just like that little Swansea schoolkid of years ago.
It shouldn’t have worked. The things we once loved are gone. We’ve changed and grown and moved on, and the memory only cheats. Except for this time. Doctor Who broke all the rules – everyone said it would never work (yes, even me) but everyone was wrong. When it blazed back into life on March 26 2005, an entire generation remembered. “Oh yes, we love this,” they said, as though coming out of a fog. And a whole new generation said: “Wow!”, as though accusing us: why have you kept this secret all this time?
Of course, we couldn’t have been confident, before transmission. We worked on that first series, in the depths of BBC Wales, worrying that children’s heads were now full of Harry Potter and Star Wars, so they’d have neither the time nor the inclination for an old, Sixties Time Lord. But I think fear helped me. I was so convinced we’d never reach a second series that I poured my heart and soul into the first 13 episodes, in case they were the only ones ever to exist. The one-off 1996 television movie with Paul McGann had single-handedly fuelled a fan-industry of novels and comics for a decade, so I had to pack enough into my 13 stories to keep the fans busy until… well, forever. Because I honestly thought that if 2005 failed, the BBC would never bring the show back again. It was all or nothing.
As a result of that fear, the show was mad and bold and loud, as it ripped from 1869 to the Year 5 Billion, throwing in armies of Daleks, green, flatulent Slitheen, paper-thin Cassandra, Gas Mask Children and even a threat to Cardiff itself. Not to mention an unexpected regeneration. And much to our surprise – it worked. That fearful, adrenalised vigour is the very thing that people latched on to. A lot of television is quite calm, bar the odd car chase, but Doctor Who kicked open the door with a wild, rolling swagger. It’s not an accident that the Doctor’s very first word was “Run”. We haven’t stopped running since.
While we filmed the first series, the possibility of a Christmas Special was mentioned in passing by Big BBC Bosses, under the condition “if the show works”. I shrugged it off – Doctor Who could never be that popular, could it? Not Christmas Day popular, surely. In fact, I doubted it so much that I included a Christmas episode in the first run of 13 – “The Unquiet Dead” by Mark Gatiss, the one with Dickens and the Ghosts, ending with: “God bless us, every one!” It was transmitted in April, because I wanted it to seem odd, like those Thanksgiving episodes of Friends seen in July. What could be better, for a time-travelling show, than an episode which feels out-of-season?
But the new Doctor Who succeeded. The viewers came, stayed and grew, and kept growing for five years, with the ratings and reach going up and out. And the Christmas Special became a tradition. Now, it’s hard to imagine the holiday without it.
As a production team, we’d always have to take a deep breath before tackling a Christmas episode, because they’re bigger and bolder than normal adventures. We realised, early on, that we’d probably get our highest viewing figures of the year on December 25, because all the family – whether that’s an actual family, or the invented family of friends and loved ones, gathers together, and turns to BBC One.
We started with “The Christmas Invasion”, in which the voodoo-like Sycorax loom over London in their stone spaceship. Then, in 2006, we had the romcom capers of “The Runaway Bride”, followed by a disaster movie on board a space-bound Titanic, with “Voyage of the Damned”. Last year saw a giant Cyberman stomping over Victorian London in “The Next Doctor”. And this year, the story has become so massive, we’ve split it into two, with “The End of Time” straddling Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. The final episode stands at an extra-special, longest-yet duration of 75 minutes.
There’s more at stake than usual, this time. It’s a piece of Time Lord history, as David Tennant’s reign as the 10th Doctor comes to an end. It’s been the greatest joy and honour to work with that man, and that team, over the past few years, and I hope I’ve done them proud with my final script – because I’m leaving too, handing the programme over to the safe hands of Steven Moffat. Though it’s damning with faint praise to call Steven “safe” – he’s the man who invented the Weeping Angels, the Clockwork Droids, the skulls-in-spacesuits, and “Are you my mummy?”. If I were you, I’d go and buy a brand new sofa in the January sales – the whole family’s going to need it.
We actually finished filming David’s final story in May and then I went to live and work in Los Angeles. Though even there, there’s no escape – the offices of BBC Worldwide have got a Dalek standing on duty in the lobby. Just this week, Quincy Jones walked past it and Harry Shearer posed alongside the metal monster to have his photograph taken.
But I’ll be coming home for Christmas. To see family and friends, of course, but let’s be honest (sorry dad), it’s mainly to see Doctor Who! OK, I’ve seen the episodes 20 times already – we only finished the post-production work on Wednesday December 12, with my final note saying: “Take down the crunch of those turkey bones a little” – but I can’t miss the actual moment of transmission. The Master, played by John Simm, is back – dying and deadly, and harbouring his most outrageous scheme yet; Wilfred Mott (Bernard Cribbins) is being plagued by strange dreams and mysterious visitations; his granddaughter Donna (Catherine Tate) dares not remember her travels with the Doctor, or she’ll die on the spot; and a mysterious Woman in White, played by the legendary Claire Bloom, brings ominous warnings of death and destruction to come. What a Christmas! Though whether there’s a regeneration on its way, or whether we’ve got some final tricks up our sleeves, you’ll just have to wait and see.
And then I’ll move on, to become a viewer, like the rest of you. And bear in mind, as a dyed-in-the-wool Doctor Who fan, I haven’t been able to watch an unspoilt new series since 1989. I can’t wait.
I’ll take away the happiest of memories. Working with Chris and David, Billie, Freema, Catherine and John. The “monster parades”, where we’d try out new aliens in a Cardiff Portakabin. The day a Dubai docker destroyed our double-decker bus, which was the setting for the entire story. Hooting with laughter at our first attempt at Water Monsters, which involved putting a leaky rubber ring on someone’s head. Watching cars arrive on set, bringing the biggest names for the guest cast – Penelope Wilton, Kylie Minogue, Richard Dawkins, Derek Jacobi, Lesley Sharp, the list is endless.
I will miss this job, so very much. And that’s the perfect time to leave. I think that Swansea schoolkid would be happy with what I’ve done. And somewhere out there, right now, is another child, watching with wide-open eyes, who will one day walk into the offices of BBC 3D HQ, to pitch his or her brand-new version of the Doctor’s 21st incarnation. Because this show, like the very best of legends, will never, ever die.
The conclusion of “Doctor Who: The End of Time“, the second half of the last David Tennant Doctor episodes, airs tomorrow night on BBC America at 8:30/7:30 C.
[Source] Telegraph
