By now, we know the Doctor. A force of nature, storming
through the universe, filled with the arrogance of a man who knows that he is
the most intelligent person in any room where he might find himself. An old
rogue, gruff but charming, a man with effortless authority and gravitas. So
far, at least. The fifth Doctor is different.
In 1981, with Tom Baker ready to depart after a record
TARDIS tenure, John Nathan-Turner and his production team faced the difficult
challenge of continuing Doctor Who without
the man who had become synonymous with the lead role. The only solution was to
do things completely differently. The transformation of Doctor Who from late seventies camp to, well, early eighties camp,
had already begun in Baker’s glossy final year. Now the transformation would be
completed with the recasting of the central role. The Doctor would be played by
an already well-known face, a younger, more skilled actor, already a household
name for the role of Tristan Farnon in All
Creatures Great and Small. The difference between Baker’s sweeping,
dominant performance and Davison’s more subdued approach couldn’t be greater.
Davison’s naysayers often accuse him of being a boring Doctor, and he’s been
saddled with the nickname ‘the wet vet.’ They couldn’t be more wrong. Davison’s
performance as the Doctor perfectly embodies a subtler take on the character
that was exactly what the series required after years of Tom Baker’s excesses.
The fifth Doctor is a unique version of the character, more
sharply defined against the generic characterisation of the Doctor than any of
the other incarnations, even the northern ninth. He does, of course, share many
of the Doctor’s perennial traits: curiosity, intelligence, compassion, humour.
On the other hand, many Doctorish personality traits are absent or greatly
reduced. He is very rarely arrogant; his description of himself as “Pretty,
sort-of, marvellous,” in Time Crash is
about as full of himself as he gets. While he is frequently ratty, with a
sarcastic streak to his humour, he is slow to anger, and when he does lose his
temper it is for the most serious of reasons.
From the outset, the fifth Doctor seems weaker than his
predecessor, it’s true. Left damaged by a traumatic ‘death,’ the Doctor is
still regenerating during the opening few episodes of his debut serial, Castrovalva. It’s unsettling to see the
Doctor like this, so vulnerable, relying on his new companions to help him back
to the TARDIS. Once there, he comes apart, the unravelling of his costume
symbolising the deconstruction of his character. Slowly, he pieces himself
together, cycling through his earlier personae as he seeks to establish his
own, new self. He is damaged, it’s true, and it’s a long time before this
version of the Doctor ever seems quite comfortable with himself. He looks in
horror at his reflection, aghast at the young, handsome man he has become.
After centuries of dominating events with easy authority, to appear fresh-faced
and inexperienced must be a terrible setback. It certainly affects his
relationships with his companions, as we’ll see later.
"Well, it wouldn't be cricket!"
One of the first things he comes across, as he searches the
TARDIS for the zero room in which to recover, is the Ship’s cricket pavilion.
He probably installed it in his fourth incarnation (in which he often mentioned
a preference for cricket), but it provides his fifth self with a vital lifeline
in his time of need. The very moment his personality is forming, he finds
something with which to identify and define himself. In reality, the fifth Doctor’s
costume, which remains barely changed throughout his tenure, was a product of
branding concerns. In terms of the fiction however, it perfectly matches this
Doctor’s character. It’s not an outfit that a real Edwardian cricketer would
ever have worn; rather an eccentric mixture of period and modern elements, but
the dominant element is the cricket jumper. Cricket symbolises everything that
is most important to this Doctor: team-playing, sportsmanship, good manners and
grace. The beige frockcoat with its red-piping and the Panama hat lend a more
sartorially striking air, the garish striped trousers a showier element,
reduced by the muted colours of the overall ensemble. The celery, worn where
another well-dressed gent might wear a rose, adds an eccentric touch, later given
the most spurious justification in Davison’s final story. Quite how it sticks
on, though, is anyone’s guess, as is its astonishing ever-freshness (perhaps he
replaces it in-between stories?)
His first delicate moments aren’t helped by the fact that
the Master – seemingly completely mad following his unnatural rebirth – has set
up another contrived trap for the Doctor and his friends. The Doctor solves the
riddle of Castrovalva, of course, and it seems to be the strength required to
face up to the Master that finally pulls him back to together. He certainly
doesn’t seem to care about his former ‘best enemy,’ though; from now on, any
mercy on the Doctor’s part towards his foe is down to nothing more than his
usual decency and compassion. The Master hounds the Doctor from now on, through
this life and into the next, but the cat-and-mouse playfulness between them is
over. The Doctor, quite understandably, would happily be rid of the lunatic.
Arguably, though, he feels the same way about several of his
companions. While he praises the team that has formed around him, and thanks
them for their help in his time of need, he has a difficult relationship with
both Tegan and Adric, with only Nyssa sharing any real friendship with him.
This is hardly surprising, though; the Doctor chose none of these people as
companions, and suddenly he’s found himself responsible for them. With a
younger Doctor came a younger set of travelling companions, and an altogether
different dynamic. Davison was only twenty-nine when he was cast, almost twenty
years younger than his predecessor and the youngest Doctor ever until Matt
Smith was cast in 2010. This youth sets him apart from all his predecessors,
and is characterised in different ways. There’s a youthful physicality to him,
a sort of breathless enthusiasm that manifests unexpectedly. Witness his
immediate response to a mission accomplished in Castrovalva: a brisk running race back to the TARDIS for him and
his team. On the other hand, there’s very much the sense of great age trapped
within a young body, a steady-headedness that belies his physical nature.
Despite his apparent sportiness, this Doctor rarely engages in any physical
activity in the course of his adventures, preferring a more cerebral,
diplomatic approach.
"For some people, small beautiful events is what life is all about!"
The Doctor’s apparent youth does affect his attitude,
however, and this is most apparent in his relationship with Adric. Now, we all
know that Adric is rubbish, a gawky, geeky character played by one of the most
hopeless regular actors in the series. However, alongside Tom Baker, his
character worked. Adric makes sense as a young protégé for the high-minded
fourth Doctor. Next to the fifth Doctor, however, the relationship is
different. As an awkward, wilful adolescent, Adric needed a firm hand, someone
he respected. The fifth Doctor could never offer that, and so this aspect of
the characters’ relationship was more or less dropped. Their dealings with each
other are more like that of a man and his petulant kid brother. Adric was an
accident waiting to happen in this sort of setup, and soon enough, the little
twerp got himself killed, running back into a doomed situation to try to prove
himself to the Doctor when he could have got out. The Doctor, for his part,
suppresses his reaction to this, burying his guilt and urging the others to
move on. However, he continues to punish himself for ‘failing’ Adric; indeed,
this incarnation’s final word is ‘Adric.’ (On the other hand, I don’t think the
Doctor’s nights are constantly plagued by guilty dreams of Adric, unlike some
of the spin-off writers.)
Tegan is another headache for the Doctor. Again, it’s easy
to imagine that the fourth Doctor would have had an easier time with her, his
more dominant personality winning the battle of wills. The fifth Doctor,
quieter and more restrained, finds is harder to stand up to ‘the mouth on
legs,’ her brash Ozzie charm the antithesis of his restrained manner. While
none of his initial companions are there by his choice, at least Adric wanted
to be there, and Nyssa has nowhere else to go. Tegan, on the other hand,
actively wants to be anywhere but in the TARDIS. Much like Ian and Barbara, she
just wants to get back to Earth, and has no qualms in making this very clear to
the Doctor. About the only thing they have in common is liking cricket. In
fairness, the Doctor has no excuse for not getting her back to Heathrow, having
somehow developed the ability to fly the TARDIS perfectly except when this
airport is involved. Tegan’s heart is in the right place, however. She puts her
all into helping the Doctor during his regeneration, and while she goes to
pieces during the first attempt to take her home (Four to Doomsday, which lands them on a starship in orbit by
mistake), she then survives a particularly horrific experience at the hands of
the Mara. Tegan slowly comes to terms with her life in the TARDIS, and the
Doctor gradually develops some respect for her.
Adric’s death threatens to drive a wedge between them once
again. Tegan didn’t like Adric at all, but she is left shocked by his sudden
death, and even more so by the Doctor’s absolute refusal to go back and save
him. The Doctor’s objection to rescuing him isn’t on the grounds that it can’t
be done; he flat out refuses to even discuss it, as if altering this event is
morally repugnant to him. Staunchly moral, this Doctor will not even entertain
the idea of changing history for personal reasons. Once the TARDIS finally
reaches Heathrow, the Doctor dumps Tegan back where she belongs, just as she
had come to value her opportunity to travel in space and time. The Doctor
carries on with Nyssa, a far more suitable companion for him in this
incarnation. Quiet and bookish, thoughtful and highly intelligent, Nyssa is the
perfect companion for a more reserved Doctor. Sadly, with three companions to
take care of, she is often sidelined in the stories, left to get on with the
technical stuff while the Doctor keeps the other, unreliable sidekicks out of
trouble. Their extended series of adventures together in audio format
illustrate their suitability to one another rather better, but on television,
Tegan is drawn into the Doctor’s world again almost immediately in the strange
series of coincidences that is
Arc of
Infinity. Nyssa certainly seems pleased to have some female company again,
while the Doctor takes a little longer to appreciate Tegan’s return.
"Brave heart, Tegan."
There’s a good-naturedness to the fifth Doctor that his
immediate predecessor lacked. While he is sometimes irritable he is always
pleasant company, polite and well-mannered to the end. He is astonishingly
patient with his companions, and often with others he meets in his travels.
There’s the sense that this Doctor would rather take things slowly, holidaying
through the universe and maybe settling down once he has found somewhere to his
liking. Trips to Deva Loka begin well, only for local matters to intervene,
forcing the Doctor to take action; he is still incapable of ignoring an
injustice or the threat to an innocent. In spite of his more ordinary, human
demeanour, he is open-minded when it comes to other cultures and alien life,
only stepping in when he is certain it is the right thing to do. He graciously
accepts being called an ‘idiot’ by Panna of the Kinda – can you imagine any of
the other Doctors taking that lying down? – and listens patiently to the
Monarch of Urbanka before standing up to hid madness. Probably the happiest we
see him is at the Crowley’s cricket match and fancy dress party, and he still
gets ensnared in a family disgrace, pulled in by his curiosity. He may be
looking for a quiet life, but he is still the Doctor, and this is the lifestyle
he has created for himself.
The fifth Doctor comes across as far more straightforward
than his predecessors, but he does have a devious side. He lets the Time Lords
throw him to the wolves in Arc of
Infinity, confident that the real threat behind the scenes needs him alive;
and he carefully judges Turlough, that most mysterious of companions, steering
the young man onto the right path. It’s this desire to see the best in people
that marks him out; he remains optimistic in the face of the constant darkness
he encounters in his travels. His trust in Turlough proves correct, even though
this alien orphan has been press-ganged into assassinating the Doctor by the
Black Guardian. Even when he has discovered the Guardian’s involvement, the
Doctor remains confident that Turlough will come through. It’s only during his
last trip in the TARDIS, on the Planet of
Fire, that Turlough angers the Doctor; having extended his trust, the
Doctor is not welcome to having it betrayed.
There are many times when this Doctor seems less formidable
than his former selves. He no longer seems quite as sharp, having to expend
great concentration when planning moves against the Master and getting Adric
and Nyssa to take care of much of the theoretical side of things. He uses
glasses for the first time since losing his elderly first body (although his
tenth incarnation will suggest that these are merely ‘brainy specs’ used for
effect). Events often resolve themselves more by luck than by judgment, with
the Doctor occasionally seeming like a bystander in his own show. All the time,
though, he is observing events, learning, questioning, staying one step ahead.
This is a Doctor who prefers to work on the periphery of events, only to have
to get involved once the danger becomes too great. He also rushes to help
people in immediate danger, with no thought to himself; it’s this straight-up
compassion that shows the Doctor at his best.
"Sweet? Effete!"
It’s interesting to look at the other Doctors’ attitudes to
this incarnation. While the fifth Doctor often seems frustrated with himself –
‘I should have realised!’ being a common complaint on his part – it’s his
immediate successor who criticises him the most. Admittedly, the sixth Doctor
is appallingly vain and full of himself, but his disparaging take on the
‘effete’ fifth isn’t so incredible. When he meets his other selves, changes in
attitude become apparent. (Indeed, this version of the Doctor suffers from
crossed timestreams particularly seriously, not only meeting three of his
earlier selves in
The Five Doctors, but
later version on screen (
Time Crash),
on audio (
The Sirens of Time) and in
print (
Cold Fusion, The Eight Doctors.)
His first self argues with him, eventually conceding that he did ‘Quite well,’
while his seventh self dismisses him as ‘Not even one of the good ones.’ It’s
only much later that his tenth self reveals how much he has come to appreciate
life in his fifth incarnation. OK, so this was a fourth-wall break, allowing
both Stephen Moffat and David Tennant to praise their favourite Doctor, but it
nonetheless stands as a reappraisal of the fifth Doctor in the show itself.
Davison himself considered that he was too young for the part. Possibly he is
right, although I feel the sudden injection of youth did the series the world
of good. Still, it’s interesting to hear him play the part now, in his fifties,
for Big Finish’s audio productions. His more mature performance, more measured
than even his subdued take in the eighties, is impeccable. Unlike the later
Doctors, there is simply no room for extra exploits in his storyline, and so
the audioplays create a sort of parallel timeline, in which new adventures, and
new companions, are retroactively inserted into the Doctor’s life. A lost world
in which an older fifth Doctor led a different set of adventures, shining a new
light on his character.
Also illuminating is his attitude to his enemies. There’s a
sense of frustration, more than anything, to the Doctor when he is confronted
by his perennial foes. His exasperated dealings with the Master I’ve already commented
on. Equally, when he encounters the Cybermen, in their new beefy guise for the
eighties, he seems frustrated at their inability to appreciate the universe for
what it is. For a man who has come to appreciate the simpler things in life,
the need to conquer and destroy is merely baffling. It’s equally true of his
dealings with the Mara, a malign, sexual intelligence that perverts Tegan into
its instrument. The dark desires the Mara represents are the antithesis of this
virtuous hero. (That said, I disagree with the analysis that the fifth Doctor
is entirely sexless. His interactions with Professor Todd in Kinda, and to a degree with Kari in Terminus and even Jane Hampden in The Awakening are mildly flirtatious,
and indicate that this youthful looking Doctor is attracted to more mature women.)
This quiet, non-confrontational Doctor is a strange fit in
the series at this time. It was all change at the televisual level, with the
Saturday night slot that had served Doctor
Who so well for so long replaced with a Monday-Tuesday double bill. This altered
the structure of the stories, no mostly comprised of four-part serials which would
play out essentially as two-parters, changing direction after episode two for a
new approach in the concluding third and fourth instalments the following week.
High concept stories abounded, but for every thoughtful exploration of the
universe, such as Castrovalva, Kinda or
Terminus, there was a militaristic
actioner, including Earthshock, Warriors
of the Deep and Resurrection of the
Daleks. While the former story type seems tailored to Davison’s
performance, the latter throws it into sharp relief. The real reason for the
existence of these gung-ho stories is the presence of Eric Saward as script
editor and occasional scriptwriter. His view of the science fiction was very
much in the more action-oriented, violent future war mode – even comparatively
sedate stories in this period frequently had high body counts and copious
amounts of kid-friendly green gore.
Yet throwing our good Doctor into this environment forces
him to act in ways he is not comfortable with, showing him in both his best and
worst light. Rarely (although not never) had the Doctor picked up a weapon
before the Davison era. By the end of his first season, the fifth Doctor was
gunning down Cybermen, and would later engage in the slaughter of his perennial
enemies, the Daleks. Revelation really
is the story that shows this dichotomy. The Doctor goes off to face Davros,
determined to execute him and finally put a stop to the Daleks’ latest campaign
of destruction. Tellingly, the vindictive scientist talks him into sparing his
life, at least long enough to get the upper hand once again. It’s a shocking
turn of events; not only does the Doctor mow down Daleks and then decree that
their creator must die, when he finally faces him he cannot pull the trigger.
Following this, Tegan leaves the Doctor’s company, appalled by the carnage
around her. The Doctor vows to mend his ways, but what he really means here is
questionable. I agree with Gareth Roberts’s interpretation: the Doctor is
vowing to toughen up.
"There should have been another way..."
The following story, Planet
of Fire (first episode broadcast on February 23rd 1984, the day
of my birth, fact fans!) shows this newfound resolve in action. Once more ensnared
in the Master’s intrigues, the Doctor allows his onetime friend to burn to
death, looking on impotently but resolutely. Sure, the Master returns, as he
always does, but this doesn’t lessen the power of this moment. The Doctor also
destroys Kamelion, the occasional companion who has been hiding away in the
TARDIS for several episodes. Once more turned into a puppet by the Master,
Kamelion begs for destruction, and the Doctor grants it. For all the ‘wet vet’
nonsense, the fifth Doctor can prove to be single-mindedly callous if the
situation calls for it.
Finally, with a new companion, Peri Brown, by his side, the
Doctor makes the fateful decision to visit the Sirius system. Caught up in the
machinations of various power-hungry individuals on the planets Androzani Major
and Minor, the Doctor is swept up in an orgy or warfare and violence that leads
inevitably to his own death. The Caves of
Androzani is rightly lauded as a classic of Doctor Who, and was voted as the greatest story of all time in the
most recent DWM story poll. A triumph
of writing, direction and acting, it’s a thrilling and claustrophobic affair
that shows the fifth Doctor in his finest light. The seedy, malicious world of
Androzani is everything this Doctor is not; selfish, greedy and violent for its
own sake. Thrown in there, he is swept along impotently, but his very presence
is the catalyst for the entire corrupt system to collapse at last. The source
of all the greed and corruption is spectrox, a life-extending substance that,
in a nice example of symmetry, is fatally toxic in its raw form. Unfortunately,
the Doctor and Peri are both exposed. What follows is four episodes of the
Doctor doing everything he can to get Peri out of this hellhole he’s
inadvertently brought her to, in an effort to save both their lives. He even
fights off his impending regeneration in order to keep moving forward (check
out the effect in episode three as he regains consciousness, and compare it to
the effect used for his eventual transformation.)
Finally, he manages to escape with the barely vital Peri,
with just enough of the fabled spectrox antidote for one. This he gives to his
companion, before collapsing to the floor. ‘I might regenerate,’ he mutters. ‘Feels
different this time…’ Although for the first time here, the series presents a
regeneration as simply what happens to the Doctor when his life is threatened,
it is also presented as very nearly failing altogether. ‘Is this death?’ he
murmurs, as Peri tends to him. No, this is no mere change for the Doctor; this
is very possibly the end of his life altogether. Of course, he regenerates, in
crescendo of sound and colour, but that does not reduce the sacrifice he makes.
The fifth Doctor dies to save a single innocent life, and this is quite right. Anything
grander would not do his character justice.
