Who, Me: An Unearthly Child (An Unearthly Child 1) (1963)

Susan Foreman, a teenage girl with short black hair. She listens to a song on a portable transistor radio that she holds in one hand.


I must have tried a dozen times by now, at least, to write about the first episode of Doctor Who. I’ve tried funny takes, serious takes, a recap format – every time, I stop. I give up. It’s too big. I love this show so much that I’m compelled to document that love, but my love is so great that nothing I could write is ever going to be sufficient.

Which is, obviously, an absurd way to feel about a television show. Possibly even an unhealthy way to feel. I’m wary of any uncritical love of corporate owned media. I’m a big enough nerd that I’ve got plenty of other, lesser loves – comics, Star Trek, and, most notably for this blog’s purposes, Star Wars, which I manage to love to a lesser enough degree that I can write about it. Fan love can be a beautiful thing but it can also be toxic. I don’t mean the racists and sexists and all the other petty bigots – if you’re reading this, I’m guessing you’re not in the GamerGate crowd. I mean the Marvel movie stans who cheer on the type of corporate merger that’s a symptom of the capitalism that’s killing our planet because it means Wolverine can meet Captain America, or the Potterheads who turn a blind eye to Rowling’s transphobia because they just gotta try the butter beer at Wizarding World.

But that’s me. I’m those people. No matter what happens behind the scenes on Doctor Who, I’ll be there. And there’s a lot of behind the scenes stuff to be critical of. Plenty of in front of the scenes stuff, for that matter. For most of the show’s history, I could take solace in it being a BBC production, not some megacorporation’s favored branded content, but now that Disney’s got a piece, well… what’s a capitalism-hating socialist to do?

Defend it, of course. Dig in my heels. Doctor Who is not like the MCU, or Star Wars, or Harry Potter. It’s better, it’s bigger. It’s magic. It’s mercury. This first episode, “An Unearthly Child,” is miles away in tone and structure from the episodes streaming now on Disney+ and yet it is recognizably the same show. I wouldn’t say we could draw a straight line from then to now – Doctor Who is not a story about straight lines – but we can certainly put our pen down on November 23, 1963, and draw a loopy, blurry, doubling-and-tripling-back-on-itself line to today. And no one person or even one corporation could ever sour that for me. I mean, Fox got ahold of it in 1996, and that worked out all right. (Okay, not in the short term, but eventually.)

If my love survived “Kerblam!”, it can survive anything.

But why do I love it so much? I’ve written before about why I started watching it – thanks, Dad – but not why it transfixed me so. My age is certainly a part of it – I think it’s safe to call eight a formative time in one’s life – but I was already a fan of the aforementioned comics, Star Trek, and Star Wars by then, and Doctor Who vaulted past all of those obsessions easily.

Being queer is also part of it. It’s hardly groundbreaking analysis to say that queer people tend to be drawn to outsider narratives, particularly stories in which an outsider gets theirs on the establishment, and that’s Doctor Who all over. (Except when it’s not. Kerblam!) Just look at this debut episode. What little gay boy doesn’t feel like he himself is an unearthly child? I certainly did, and yes, if I’d known about this episode I would have been pretentious enough to describe myself that way, even at age eight. Especially at age eight. (“I am… an unearthly child,” I’d have whispered to myself in the dark, a single tear dripping dramatically onto my pillow.)

Ian and Barbara are meant to be the audience identification figures for the adults watching – stalwart schoolteachers, trusted and responsible. But Susan was included to give the children and teens someone to connect with, which is, in retrospect, an unusual but brilliant choice. The kids’ identification figure is literally an alien, bizarre and otherworldly, both too smart and too strange for her peers and her teachers. And yet Susan loves being among them, wants desperately to fit in, even as her intelligence and her odd behavior continually mark her as different. She’s loved but not listened to by her grandfather, who won’t accept that she might know herself better than he does.

Queer kids would feel what Susan felt. Plenty of straight kids would too, I’d imagine. I certainly would have, if I’d been alive and watching in 1963. I feel it now, and every time I rewatch “An Unearthly Child.”. Watch this episode, and see if you feel it too.

(If you can find it – sadly, copyright issues mean this first story isn’t available to stream anywhere.) (Legally.)

I want to say more about this episode. About a moment at the beginning between a couple of supporting artists playing students that’s so beautifully normal, it throws Susan’s unusualness into stark relief. About the introduction of the Doctor, our supposed hero who’s anything but. About Barbara’s face when she enters the TARDIS for the first time, and how her wordless reaction says more than any line of dialogue ever could. About how much I wish the modern series would show us a party on Gallifrey where everyone is doing Susan’s weird hand-dance.

But that’s the trap I’ve fallen into so many times before. In trying to write everything I feel about Doctor Who, I write nothing. So I’ll leave it here, with just a light touch on the queerness of Susan, a thread I may follow through later episodes, or I may abandon completely. Doctor Who is ever changeable, after all, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be, too.

Maybe that’s why I love it? A show that’s constantly reinventing itself? It’s a trait I’ve noticed in myself, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Is this where I got it? Did Doctor Who influence my life more than I think? Is that why I’m so drawn to it? I’ll keep watching, and keep writing, and maybe I’ll find out.

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Nothing But Star Wars: Droids S1E8 – “The Revenge of Kybo Ren” (1985)

A still from the "Droids" cartoon. The villainous Kybo Ren, a short, rotund man with a mustache and goatee. He looks like he's up to something, despite being locked in a cell.


I like writing stories with large casts of characters, whether it be a novel, a play, or just a comedy sketch. Maybe it’s because I come from a large family, with a lot of siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews. I find the dynamics of large groups inherently interesting, because there are so many possibilities to play with. It’s mathematical, in a way – within the seven kids in my family, for example, there’s a different dynamic between each pair, each trio, each quartet, etc.

Though the genres of my novels shift from series to series, they’re all funny adventures at their heart, and I find comedy and drama more engaging when there are lots of different characters with lots of different points of view bouncing off each other in lots of different combinations. With my latest novel, for instance – Dance Ten; Charisma Three (plug!) – I honestly intended to focus on one main character and change up the supporting cast from book to book, but by the climax I’d given him (minor spoiler) a travelling companion, and as I begin the first draft of the sequel, I’m finding that two characters I meant to be throw-aways might wind up tagging along as well. There’s just so much to be explored when multiple characters get to know one another, and readers get to know them at the same time.

It’s a lot harder, of course, juggling so many characters. If they’re going to be prominent in the story, then they’ve got to have arcs of their own, and keeping all those independent but interconnected plots engaging isn’t easy.

I wouldn’t expect a 1980s Saturday morning cartoon to be capable of, or interested in, that kind of complexity. But somehow, Droids is managing it. It’s built up quite a large supporting cast in this particular arc, and The Revenge of Kybo Ren manages to give all of them something useful to do while also moving all of their individual stories forward. It’s honestly impressive!

We’ve got our stars, of course. I suppose R2-D2 doesn’t get a lot of character development, but he certainly plays a key role in resolving the story, as always. Once again events would have likely proceeded smoother if C-3PO hadn’t been there at all, but he does do some useful things this time and learns a little lesson about making your own luck. (It’s still a Saturday morning cartoon; somebody’s gotta learn a little lesson.)

But then we’ve got our rapidly expanding supporting cast. King Mon Julpa is trying to negotiate peace with warlord chieftain Lord Toda. Toda has a daughter, Princess Gerin, whose abduction by pirate Kybo Ren and subsequent rescue by the entire rest of the cast provides the bulk of our story. (Side note – I’m not sure the daughter of a warlord chieftain is really a princess, but then I guess if the daughter of a senator can be, anyone can be.) But within this by-the-numbers adventure, we’ve got the tension between Julpa and Toda, and the growing romantic subplot between Julpa and Gerin. Also, throw Gerin’s younger brother Coby in there, who doesn’t do all that much here, but his name is in the title of the next episode so I’m considering his appearance here the introduction of yet another major character.

And we must not forget Jessica Meade, whose name I still adore (COME ON she’s a Star Wars character who sounds like you play mixed doubles tennis with her and her banker husband at the club). She leaves our story here – satisfied that she’s helped her friend Julpa secure peace on his planet, she’s ready to return to her freighter business. Her arc is over, but her sudden departure is jarring to Jann Tosh, the droids’ current master. He’s been pretty happy chilling with his friends, being all hunky and heroic when called for, but Jessica reminds him that his goal had been to join the Space Academy. Time to get his story arc moving again! (And since Droids takes place during the height of the Empire, that’s the Imperial Space Academy Jann wants to join, meaning he wants to be either an Imperial officer or a Stormtrooper. I’m hoping the next episode lets me dig a little deeper into that…)

And while the writers’ juggle all this, they also manage to somehow give each one of C-3PO, R2-D2, Jann, Jessica, Toda, Julpa, Julpa’s aide Sollag Den who I haven’t even mentioned, and Gerin herself something productive to do in furthering the rescue plot. (Although this is her first appearance, we get to know Gerin pretty quickly as she joins the ranks of Star Wars princesses who maybe need a little bit of help but after that are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves.) Nobody’s just there; everybody does something. That’s not easy with this many characters, but it’s something I strive for in my own writing and appreciate when I see it done this well.

All this is just to say… if you ever consider bringing Droids back, Disney, give me a shot at the writers’ room. I’m perfect for it.


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Ranking Doctor Who – Season 3

I’m very slowly rewatching all of Doctor Who from the beginning, and I’ve finally finished season 3 from 1965-1966. Here’s my ranking, and some quick thoughts. (Click for Season 1 and Season 2.)

  1. The Daleks’ Master Plan – Not a surprise that the Dalek story takes top marks again this season. At twelve episodes, it’s an epic, but the odd Christmas episode mid-way, followed by a tangential mini-arc with the return of the Monk, keeps it feeling fresh.
  2. Galaxy 4 – The new animation had me enjoying this story a lot more this time around. The Drahvins are camp as hell, how could I not rate this highly?
  3. The Celestial Toymaker – Similarly, the new animation improves this story drastically – this is probably the only story that would drop in my ratings if the lost episodes were found. The animated people take some getting used to, particularly Steven, but the Toymaker’s games look fantastical.
  4. The Savages – A high placement considering all the episodes are missing, but it’s a great exit story for Steven. Plus, “colonialism is bad” is a message that’s always timely.
  5. The Myth Makers – Another one that’s risen in my esteem after rewatch, despite no episodes surviving. It’s a load of fun until the sudden tonal shift in the last episode takes it dark. Points off for Vicki’s goodbye happening off-screen.
  6. The Massacre – Drags a bit, but a good focal episode for Steven; and William Hartnell shines in his double roll as both the Doctor and the evil Abbot.
  7. The War Machines – The first two episodes are great, and it introduces two of the best companions, Polly and Ben. But the latter two episodes lean into dull 50s-style sci-fi, and poor Dodo is shuffled off the show without a word.
  8. The Ark – The first two episodes hold up a lot better than the first. It’s not a bad story, really, but massive points off for the “colonialism is good, actually” message, which really doesn’t jibe with Doctor Who‘s core. (They should put this in a box set with Kerblam! and call it “Right-Wing Tales”.)
  9. Mission to the Unknown – A bit unfair to judge this on its own, since it’s really a prologue to “Master Plan,” but who said Doctor Who was fair? I may be rating this low because I watched the fan-produced animation, which is dreadful.
  10. The Gunfighters – For years, fan consensus, based on the memory of those who’d watched it on airing, was that this story was terrible. Then it was released on VHS, and fan consensus was that it had been treated unfairly. I am here to tell you that fan consensus was right the first time. This was a chore to get through, and that song… dear god, that song…
A still from the "Doctor Who" story "The Daleks' Master Plan." In their base, three Daleks square off against Mavic Chen, the Guardian of the Solar System.
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Nothing But Star Wars: Ewoks S1E8 – “The Land of the Gupins” (1985)

A still from the "Ewoks" cartoon. Oobel and Mring-Mring, two Gupins, roughly humanoid creatures. Oobel has wings, and flies slightly above Mring-Mring.


I give Ewoks a hard time, mostly because I compare it to Droids, which I’m growing to adore. But I have to give credit to “The Land of the Gupins,” the eighth episode of Ewoks, for highlighting its strongest attribute – reminding you that the moon of Endor is filled with all sorts of bizarre and wonderful creatures, most of which want to murder you.

Seriously, the character design of Ewoks is glorious, and in that regard, this episode shines. There are multiple new species crucial to the plot, but also several throw-aways, seen for just a moment in an establishing shot. Each creature is fully realized and no two are alike. The designers must have had so much fun working on this cartoon, and it shows. My favorite are probably the reaps, snake/spider hybrids who capture our heroes in their web. The design is scary, but not too scary for a Saturday morning cartoon. A lot of thought must have went into these monsters that appear in this one scene of this one episode, and then never again.

Unfortunately, this episode also highlights Ewoks weakest attribute, which is its insistence on cramming as much complicated lore as possible into every episode. The Ewoks get a break this time; instead we learn of the political and mythological histories of the Gupins. The Gupins are a race of shape-changers; we’ve met only one of them before, Mring-Mring, in episode 4, “To Save Deej.” He helped Wicket save his dad’s life, and at that point the only explanation we got for this bizarre little man was, “It’s a long story.” Well, four episodes later we finally hear the story and oh, brother, Wicket wasn’t kidding.

I won’t untangle all of the continuity for you – the first seven minutes of this twenty-three minute episode are almost entirely devoted to Gupin exposition. We get all of Mring-Mring’s personal back story, how the Gupin ruling system works, the latest political crisis, their relationship with a neighboring species, a ritual ceremony, the magic box that renews their shapeshifting powers and how its key was stolen… it’s a lot. And just when you think it’s all done and we’re ready to get on with the actual story, they toss an ancient prophecy into the mix.

I write fantasy novels, as you probably know if you’re on this blog. (If not, click that Books link at the top, would you?) A common debate among fantasy authors is about worldbuilding – how much is too much? Some writers create entire books’ worth of details on their worlds, none of it meant to be published, much of it never referenced except in passing, cryptic mentions. Other writers create only as much of the world as they need, and nothing more, leaving themselves room to grow and develop their story without tying themselves to a history they never intend to visit.

I tend to favor the latter, but plenty of authors I admire prefer the former. When done well, extensive worldbuilding can immerse readers in the story and ground it in a sense of reality. When done poorly, it can make the reader wonder why they should care about these details, even confuse them as to what’s important enough to remember and what’s never going to be referred to again. The worst worldbuilding comes when the author ventures too far up their own ass, never to return.

I wouldn’t say Ewoks is quite there… but it’s within smelling distance.


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Nothing But Star Wars: Droids S1E7 – “The Pirates of Tarnoonga” (1985)


Spinning characters off from a franchise in which they play supporting roles into a new vehicle in which they are the leads is tricky, to say the least. C-3PO and R2-D2 are heroes in Star Wars, but they are not THE heroes OF Star Wars, if you see the distinction. While they both certainly have moments where they contribute towards saving the day, imagine just about any dramatic scene with Luke, Leia or Han swapped out for one of the two droids and you’ll see the problem. They’re not the leads; that’s not their function in the story.

But in Droids, of course, they ARE the leads. Sure, there’s a rotating cast of characters who appear to fill the void left by our original human heroes, but 3PO and R2 are the titular stars, and every episode requires them to be at the center of its action and the cause of its resolution.

Despite being the less human of the two, R2’s preexisting characterization slots into this role a bit easier than 3PO’s. R2 was the brave little droid crossing the desert alone to deliver his message and save the princess. 3PO was just along for the ride, complaining all the way. Unfortunately, 3PO necessarily is going to have to carry more of the story because he’s the one who can, you know, talk. You can’t hire Anthony Daniels for your cartoon and then give more dialogue to the beeping booping sound effects machine.

I have a hypothesis that in making slight adjustments to the droids’ narrative functions, Nelvana, the show’s producers, looked to another of their cartoons for inspiration. R2-D2 is, basically, Inspector Gadget. Bear with me.

In this episode, the droids and their friends Jann Tosh and Jessica Meade (god I still love that name – she’s a Star Wars character with a name like someone who works in your office’s finance department) face off against the evil pirate Kybo Ren (no relation). In pursuit of this goal, R2-D2 reveals that hidden in his body are the following: his spinny connector thing with which he can hack any computer; a massive inflatable air cushion to catch clumsy partners falling from great heights; an oxygen mask with internal oxygen supply; a welding torch that somehow works underwater; a propellor on his head that allows him to move through the ocean at incredible speed; and a couple of bath toys in the shape of animals. And that’s just in this episode – across the series he whips out innumerable useful devices never seen before or since.

Unlike the good Inspector, though, R2’s gadgets always work. Which is where my hypothesis breaks down a little, because if he’s Gadget, then C-3PO should really be Penny, Gadget’s niece, who was always the one to really figure out what was going on. But making the pompous golden windbag the brains of their partnership is just a step too far away from his character. So instead R2 gets that role too – he’s Gadget, Penny, and Brain the dog too, all wrapped up in one trash can shaped package.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t leave C-3PO with much to do besides his usual schtick: taunting R2, messing up, and being afraid. He gets to help resolve the central conflict in a couple of episodes, don’t get me wrong; but there are also plenty of episodes like this one, in which he does nothing productive of note, and events probably would have proceeded a lot smoother if he weren’t there. If R2 hadn’t been there, contrariwise, Jann and Jessica would both be dead.

I don’t know the solution. Making C-3PO the Gadget would have helped, but that’s almost as big a stretch as making him the Penny. He’s a protocol droid; having a propellor pop out of his head is a little off-brand. More stories in which his actual skills – translation and diplomacy – proved crucial to the plot was probably the way to go. Whether that’s exciting enough for a Saturday morning kids’ cartoon, I don’t know.

Oh, well. It’s still a fun show, hero’s journey be damned. Go go R2 jet ski!


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