DOCTOR WHO: DEEP BREATH Panel Discussion and Q&A, BFI

EVERYTHING MUST GO 

On Thursday 7 August at the BFI Southbank, Doctor Who went back to first principles. To my surprise and delight, possibly the most exciting and unpredictable era of my favourite TV show is about to begin.

See those eyes: Sir Peter Capaldi IS the Doctor. (Image: BBC)

Without a doubt, the BFI launch of Peter Capaldi's Doctor Who was one of the best days of my life. As I was coming out of a rough patch in my professional and personal life, I was determined not to miss the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of seeing the first story of a new Doctor on the big screen, with the man himself then invited onstage, together with Jenna Coleman (companion Clara Oswald) and Steven Moffat (executive producer), to be interviewed by the critic and columnist Boyd Hilton. After (several) drinks in the West End with friends on Wednesday night, I walked across Waterloo bridge to bed down outside the entrance to the British Film Institute on the Thames' Southbank (or, as I put it on Facebook, 'off to pass out outside the BFI.') I was first in the queue for return tickets, which in itself was a bit of a first for me

The queue, with me at the front wearing
Matt Smith's stetson. (Image: Louise Traxon)

More people arrived at 4.00. Sara (22), Roberto (21) and Chiara (22) had come all the way from Italy. They were excited but slightly bewildered, and I automatically became a bit of a mother hen, asking them if they had enough bottled water to drink - it was pretty warm, even at that time of the morning - and telling them they could buy a whole magazine about Doctor Who if they nipped over to Waterloo Station and went in WH Smiths.

As is usually case with every Doctor Who event I've been to, as more and more people arrived, they fell naturally into chatting - 'How far have you come to be here? Do you like Classic, New, or both?' - and so on. Louise Traxon (27) had caught the 6.22 from Hemel Hempstead and had fallen in love with the show watching the Jon Pertwee repeats in the 1990s; Henry Mendoza (great name, 18) had caught the tube up from Tooting and hadn't seen any of Peter Capaldi's other performances; Paul Ducker (35), a support worker in the Community Cardiac Service for the NHS, had booked the day off work specially and had grown up with Sylvester McCoy's Doctor. Beatrice Paroni (23) from America was currently studying for a Masters Degree in Time Travel and Philosophy  – honestly – and preferred her Doctors 'older and wiser.' Simeon Couter (19, up from Surrey) loved both the BFI and Capaldi, considering him 'a legend'. 

John Mouzo (52) was a delight to talk to, mainly because he was so dryly funny - 'I've been hearing about this Doctor Who thing and thought I'd give it a try' - when he had, in fact, been giving Doctor Who a try since the 1980s when he helped organise the big US conventions there. Significantly, John had liked Capaldi ever since he had featured in Local Hero (1983), also bringing along the US DVD sleeve of the actor's Oscar-winning short film Franz Kafka's It's A Wonderful Life (1995, right) for him to sign. After several hours of bonding as the London sky slowly brightened, it was heart warming that we all got to sit near other for the screening.     
 

As for 'Deep Breath' itself - no spoilers. What I can say is that the Doctor - that is, my Doctor, the moody, wise, funny, arrogant, occasionally frightening, occasionally violent Doctor I grew up with, who quoted Gertrude Stein and misquoted Karl Marx - is back. Like one of my favourite stories 'The Face of Evil', Steven Moffat's literate, funny and terrifying script has a mature philosophical theme, as it tackles the positive and negative consequences of renewal.

Not everyone will like the change of creative direction, primarily, I suspect, the audience that first came to Doctor Who when it was relaunched in 2005. At times during 'Deep Breath', you'll get the feeling that the production team is deliberately trying to alienate the audience that the BBC have spent the last ten years cultivating; all over the NFT1 auditorium, you could almost hear jaws hitting the floor at key game-changing moments. As a regeneration story, for me 'Deep Breath' is up there with 'The Power of the Daleks', 'Spearhead from Space' and 'The Eleventh Hour' and, beyond that, is already one of my favourite stories ever.

Jenna Coleman and Peter Capaldi on stage. (Image: Getty)

During the twenty minutes when questions were invited from the audience for Steven, Jenna and Peter, I asked him if, as a writer and director, he would like to get involved in that side of Doctor Who. When the audience had stopped laughing at Peter's softly spoken but emphatic 'No', he went on to explain that the series was already demanding enough without the added pressure on him of directing and writing. Rather humbly, Peter felt he was 'a dabbler' when it came to film making. With perfect comic timing, Steven Moffat followed up his leading man's comment with, 'says the man with an Oscar at home'.

Endearingly, Peter would like to see 'The Dalek Invasion of Earth' remade, which, predictably, drew an endorsing round of applause. Personally, I'm looking forward to his next spoof documentary, Cricklewood Rocks, which looks at 'rubbish British rock bands' in a sequel to Crickelwood Greats, Peter's affectionate parody of Ealing Studios and Britsh film in general.

The man was tireless, abandoning wine-guzzling BBC liggers in the green room to spend time with the fans queued up outside the BFI waiting for autographs and photos. I never normally do this sort of thing, but I was so excited by 'Deep Breath' that I couldn't stop myself, getting him to sign the latest copy of Doctor Who Magazine. I had a very amiable chat with Mr Capaldi - 'please, call me Peter' - and two of the highlights were:

ME: 'It's good to see you're now making Doctor Who for 50+ Philip Hinchcliffe and Robert Holmes fans.'

PETER: 'Ah, well, we have had it in mind for years.'

and

ME: 'The great thing is, the Daily Mail will hate Doctor Who now more than ever.'

PETER: 'I do hope so.'

On Friday morning, I did something I hadn't done since the 1970s; I bought a cross-section of that morning's newspapers to check out the reviews. Nicola Methven, the Daily Mirror critic, said that Clara eventually came to like the new Doctor, 'but, the question is... will you?' and in The Independent, Ellen E. Jones hit the mythical nail on the head by suggesting that 'Capaldi's Doctor Who might just be the best yet.'

I realised one thing on Thursday. Everyone who's ever taken the piss out of the fans for liking - no, loving - Doctor Who is completely and utterly wrong. Talk about feeling vindicated.

Going by 'Deep Breath', it seems that the best times for the series are yet to come. Prepare yourselves. 

 

Carpet diem. (Image: Mr Ducker)

 

THE SKIDS remembered

T.V. STARS

Producing only four LPs between 1979 and 1981, Scottish post-punk band the Skids left a rich legacy of music that still sounds fresh and vital today.

 

Richard Jobson (right) and Stuart Adamson in orbit.  (Image: Junk Archive)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Scottish New Wave band the Skids - Richard Jobson (vox, guitar sometimes), Stuart Adamson (guitar), Bill Simpson (bass) and Tom Kellichan (drums) - were one of the best things about 1979. That was the year of an extremely severe winter: I remember my joy at being allowed to stay off school, stay in bed, cuddle up and read Doctor Who and the Sontaran Experiment. Then there were crippling public sector strikes (not that this seemed to affect Lowestoft that much) and ITV going off the air because of another industrial dispute. Two years earlier, I had had my 'road to Danmascus' moment and officially discovered contemporary music as I watched the Sex Pistols' video for 'Pretty Vacant' on Top of the Pops. Gone were mild flirtations with Abba and the Electric Light Orchestra (for now, at least).

In a time before digital radio, YouTube and the internet generally, a musical act was made by a successful TOTP appearance. Everyone knows about the cultural impact of seeing David Bowie put his arm around Mick Ronson as they performed 'Star Man' in 1972, but the punk and New Wave bands also seized the opportunity, granted them through TOTP, of direct access to every living room in the land.

So it was with the Skids in January 1979. For one thing, unless you were in the Stylistics or the Floaters, lead singers of bands just didn't dance. As the intro chords of 'Into the Valley’, the opening track on their debut album Scared to Dance thundered out, Jobbo the Yobo/Gentleman Rick (depending on who you talked to) didn't stop dancing. For the duration of the song, he whirled around the band's tiny stage, legs kicking towards the studio lights, while - not to be outdone - Adamson jumped and swung his guitar, arm windmilling Pete Townshend-style. I'd found My First Favourite Band.

The Skids were ahead of the game, too, something they're never given any credit for. In late 1979, they released their second LP - two in one year from the same band rarely happens now - that pretty much invented the following year's New Romantic movement. The latter's obsession with Europe was there in the title, Days in Europa, a concept album about the rise of fascism in pre-World War II Germany. Synthesiser heavy and using tape loops, thanks to the innovative production by former BeBop Deluxe maverick Bill Nelson, the Skids stood apart from the sombre seriousness of the New Romantics in their banana yellow jump suits and smart uniforms that Nelson himself designed. There was another classic TOTP appearance when the lads performed 'Charade', the first single from Days.

1980 rolled around. By now I was impersonating Jobson's kick-dancing at school discos along with my friends every time the DJ was persuaded to put a Skids record on, which was fairly often. For their third album, The Absolute Game, there was a line-up change and Rusell Webb now performed bass duties while Mike Baillie was behind the drum kit (Rusty Egan took the drum stool for the Days era). Lead single 'Circus Games' was another singalong, rabble-rousing call to arms and, suddenly, the Skids were playing at the University of East Anglia in nearby Norwich.


There was no way I wasn't going. I can't quite remember how it happened, but I organised a trip of Skids fans to the UEA - hired a minibus, collected the money, sent off for the tickets. It was my first gig and I still remember the date - 2 October - and the band were brilliant. Live, 'Animation' became what Jobson called "Skids heavy metal", 'Out of Town', the b-side I had frequently jumped around to in my room, was electrifying as the second song and the closing majesty of 'Into the Valley' was even more more special, beginning and ending with 'Sloop John B'. Naturally, 'Masquerade' was the encore. I was also tangentially excited that the new Doctor Who Peter Davison had clearly taken his fashion cues - cricket jumper, summer colours, white shoes - from the haute couture favoured by the Skids on the Game tour. How good is that?

It couldn't last. In 1981 the boys' featured slot on BBC2's Rock Goes to College was disappointing - underpowered and unfocused. Before the year was out, Adamson had left and shortly afterwards Baille walked, leaving Jobson and Webb to the folk-rock experiments of the band's fourth and last LP, ironically titled Joy. Over time, Jobbo beacme a respected film maker while Adamson, after an even more successful music career with Big Country, sadly took his own life.

I've liked and loved a lot of other bands since the Skids but I always go back to them, marvelling at how fresh the music still sounds, playing their albums very loud on rotation for about a week. Pride of my collection is Skids Live: Masquerade Masquerade (Virgin, CDV 3027), recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon on the same tour I saw them on. Listen to it and you're left in no doubt that Jobson, Adamson and co. were one of the top live bands - if not the top live band - in the UK at the time.

With their punky optimism, instantly recognisable guitar riffs - yes, they do sound like bagpipes in places - and swaggering, nothing's-gonna-stand-in-our-way image, the Skids were the perfect soundtrack for a teenager whose horizons were rapidly widening.

Charles got a job in a factory,
Drilling sheet metal from 6 til 3.
Worked extra hours for a better wage,
Lost in his task quite needlessly.

'Charles', The Skids (1978)