Hands
down, my favorite classic-series Doctor by a mile (sorry, Four – I love you,
but Two has my heart.) I’ve long thought
that, while William Hartnell and the rest of the original cast and creative
team deserve a huge amount of credit for Doctor
Who’s longevity, there’s no way the show would be where it is today without
Patrick Troughton’s performance as the Second Doctor.
It was an
incredible task: convince the audience,
who’s grown immensely attached to the Doctor, that despite having never brought
it up before, he has the ability to regenerate into a new actor, and that new
actor is 100% still the Doctor, even though he looks nothing like him and
really doesn’t act much like him. If
people hadn’t been able to accept Two as the Doctor, the show would’ve gone the
way of the dodo and might be remembered as a creative little
it-was-fun-while-it-lasted sci-fi curiosity rather than the British TV
institution it’s become. Regeneration
was the key for the show to 1) outlive the contract of any one valuable actor
and 2) take the story in new directions by reconfiguring the personality of its
protagonist. It couldn’t have lasted a
fraction as long as it has without it.
But it was a huge gamble, and those dice were rolled on a funny little
cosmic hobo in 1966.
From his
earliest moments, Two is massively different than One. He’s kookier, warmer, and less
self-important. In a way, he’s the start
of many of the traits I associate with the Doctor today – absolutely a hero and
undoubtedly a genius, but such an odd, unlikely one that frequently comes out
of nowhere and has people gawking at his eccentricities as he impossibly saves
the day. I don’t want to take away from
One’s characterization, because as I’ve said, I’ve come to appreciate him a lot
more (especially since getting to know Twelve,) but for me, Two is kind of the
blueprint for the Doctor as we know them today.
His offbeat sensibilities echo most clearly in fan favorites like Four,
Ten, and Eleven, who all take that aura and run with it, but you can see his
influence in nearly every Doctor (except maybe Six, who I maintain is mostly
just a chore.)
So, so
much to love in Two. His sly,
borderline-smartmouth way of dealing with authority figures he doesn’t
like. His inability to leave an
intellectual loose thread hanging because he has such a drive to know. His rather immature sense of fun, at times
leading his companions to roll their eyes at him as he makes plans for building
sandcastles. His forcefulness in the
face of cruel enemies, a scarecrow standing up to a hurricane. His gentleness and care in dealing with those
who have suffered. His outpouring of
affection – sometimes teasing, sometimes admiring, sometimes dear – for his
companions. His endless readiness to go
tearing down corridors as he’s being chased by some monster or another.
An
intriguing aspect here is the fact that Troughton (and his comic partner in
crime, Fraser Hines as Jamie) was well-known for sneaking in jokes and little
bits of comic business, most of which he knew would end up on air because the
show’s budget was too small to do many cuts.
It makes me wonder how much of that Doctory humor we’ve all come to know
and love is rooted, not in the scripts, but in the second actor play the
Doctor. How many of those little traces
of Two that we find in contemporary Doctors have Troughton to thank for their
presence? I don’t know nearly enough on
the subject to answer definitively, but it makes me value both Two and
Troughton even more.
No comments:
Post a Comment