
On November 23rd, 1963, the Doctor made his first appearance on British TV screens.
Cut to 45 years later...


Back when Season Three of Doctor Who was first playing on the BBC, there was a children’s series playing concurrently during the week called Totally Doctor Who. It consisted of interviews and information about the series and was designed to provide kids with a Who fix in-between the weekend installments. Each week also featured three minutes of the ongoing animated adventure, “The Infinite Quest,” for which David Tennant and Freema Agyeman provided their vocal talents. This DVD edits together all the various segments of the story into one seamless 45-minute adventure, and the results are mostly positive.
Given the amount of time she’s been in the business, Tracey Ullman should have stopped being funny years ago. And yet not only has she not done so, but she doesn’t even appear to be close to hanging up a going out of business sign. Her latest project, State of the Union, which she created for Showtime, isn’t perfect, but it’s far more hit than miss. The series is essentially a platform for her to present an array of characters that make up, as Sarah Palin might say, this great nation of ours. (In fact, it’s a shame the material predates Palin’s arrival on the political scene, as I suspect Ullman would’ve whipped out a parody that surpasses Tina Fey’s.)
In nature, the weaker members of a species are often ostracized so they cannot reproduce and dilute the gene pool. Lions, for example, do not keep an omega male around to be the butt of the joke for the rest of the pride, like we humans tend to do. And while that makes sense in a Darwinian way, our way is a lot more fun. It may be cruel, but imagine how boring life would be if we lived in a world without the human equivalent of a punching bag. Admit it: you all know someone who fills this role in your life, and you relish it. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t.
The ‘70s produced some of the best and most groundbreaking sitcoms ever created, and writer/producer Norman Lear was at the helm of a number of them, including All in the Family, Maude, The Jeffersons and One Day at a Time. As much fun as something like That 70s Show is, there’s really no substitute for actually watching a series created in that time period in order to have a better understanding of the social climate of the time. One of Lear’s most irreverent efforts was Sanford and Son, which, like All in the Family before it, was a remake of a British series. Also like Family, it set out to showcase the blue-collar point of view of a guy whose outlook was so outrageous in its simplicity that you had no choice but to love him. That guy was Fred Sanford, a junk dealer operating out of his home in south Los Angeles, and he was played by comedian Redd Foxx so successfully that he never really escaped the role in the years after the show went off the air.
When I was a kid there was one night and television lineup that surpassed all others: CBS Fridays, which was comprised of The Incredible Hulk, The Dukes of Hazzard and Dallas. It was hardly a task to plop down in front of the tube and bask in these three entirely different slices of pop culture as they bled from one into the next every week. As an adult I remain a Ewing freak, but the Duke boys have unfortunately gone by the wayside; the adventures of Dr. David Banner reside somewhere in between. It’s not anywhere near as juvenile as Hazzard, yet it doesn’t have the expansive ongoing storyline of Dallas. The real problem with The Incredible Hulk is that it’s an incredibly repetitive series. Banner wanders the country, defending the naïve, weak and helpless against the sleazy, corrupt and powerful.
The mid-‘80s were a turbulent time for Doctor Who. After the 22nd season, which ended in March of ‘85, the show was cancelled. There was a considerable uproar from the public, BBC bosses were forced to rethink the move, and its status went from cancelled to 18-month hiatus. But the reprieve came with a few conditions.
When it comes to classic Doctor Who, there can be no doubt: “The Brain of Morbius” is one of the best. It comes from the treasured and oft-praised era of the series known as “the Hinchcliffe years” (so named after producer Philip), a time when the show could seemingly do no wrong. At this point in the series, every week was a new excursion into the realms of horror and sci-fi, and perhaps no other Doctor Who tale so successfully mixes up the two genres. I’d easily place it in my Top Five were I making a list of favorite Who serials. In addition to the horror/sci-fi aspects, “Morbius” also has a wicked sense of humor which takes it right up over the top.
The U.K. title of this set was “K-9 Tales,” a label that was dropped for the U.S. release - probably wisely since the tin dog isn’t nearly as well known over here. It features two K-9 stories, the first being “The Invisible Enemy,” which marked the initial appearance of the Doctor’s dog-shaped computer back in ‘77. K-9 was allegedly the Doctor Who answer to the immense popularity of Star Wars. Perhaps the goal was to fuse the goofy cuteness of R2-D2 with the pompous intelligence of C-3PO - a cross that resulted in an obnoxious little peckerhead.
Read the rest of this DVD review for"The Invisible Enemy / K-9 and Company" by clicking here and visiting Bullz-Eye.
Early in Season Four of Boston Legal, Alan Shore (James Spader) has a heart to heart with Shirley Schmidt (Candice Bergen) about whether or not he would make a good father, as his current relationship demands that he ponder such issues. He reveals, “I come from a long line of dreadful fathers. My great-grandfather, my grandfather…my father. With each generation they get worse. And me, well…I think a child might get a little lost with me leading the way.” It’s a quiet, insightful moment, but also one that demonstrates the uniqueness of the show. At this stage of the TV game, many a series would bestow a child on its main character and force him to grow up; it happens all too often. Saddling Alan Shore with a child would be one of the lamest things this show could ever do. It’s just not what Boston Legal is about. Besides, Alan’s already got a child to take care of: William Shatner’s Denny Crane.
Season Two of Torchwood charges out of the gate, eager to seduce anyone left sitting on the fence at the close of its initial batch of episodes. If the freshman season displayed promise, then its sophomore outing delivers on that potential in a big way. Whereas Season One was an uneven mix of sci-fi and horror and sex and relationships, Season Two is a nearly ideal blend of those same components, and maybe even a few more. The show wants your viewership and is willing to go to whatever dramatic (and sometimes even comedic) lengths necessary to get it. Indeed, this season is so uniformly strong and yet diverse in its presentation, it’s tempting to recommend it to people who never even saw the first season. If this material doesn’t make you a fan, then nothing the series will ever do is likely to grab your attention.
In a recent review of Robin of Sherwood, I wrote that it was “like attending the greatest renaissance festival of your life.” If so, then watching “The Time Warrior” is akin to experiencing the cheesiest ren-fest of your life – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially for those who don’t care how such material is presented, as long as it’s with conviction. “The Time Warrior” overflows with conviction, and the cheese has aged quite nicely over the past 35 years. If you’re mostly familiar with the new series, this classic entry is worth checking out for two reasons.
Desperate Housewives is a show that remains so hopelessly square that I’m befuddled by the fact the Parents Television Council continues to keep it high on their list of shows that rampantly promote evil and should never been seen by decent folk. In one episode, Lynette (Felicity Huffman), coping with cancer, is unknowingly dosed by her mother (Polly Bergen) with some pot brownies to help her deal with the pain. She takes the plate over to a charades party where basically the entire adult cast of the show is assembled, and proceeds to get progressively stoned. Just as the other various characters are about to unwittingly partake, dramatic developments interfere with what could have been an arguably hilarious scenario: the entire cast baked and playing charades. Why not take the risk and see what happens? Because Housewives just isn’t a daring enough program to do something that wouldn’t even be all that daring. Further, the brownies are treated as if they were laced with crack cocaine. This is a tame show. In another episode, a string of characters may or may not be passing an STD between them; the STD in question is – wait for it – crabs. When was the last time anyone in TV or film got crabs? Only this show, which so timelessly exists in its weird little bubble, would dare to play the crab card.
Four seasons into House M.D. and the ratings are as strong as ever, but is the quality still there? Truthfully, it’s hard for me to gauge, because this is the first full season of the show I’ve seen. An episode or two here or there before now, but this set was my first full-on foray into the sardonic tirades of Hugh Laurie’s Dr. Gregory House - or just plain House. I don’t think anyone ever called him Greg or Gregory at any point in these 16 episodes (come to think of it, he’s rarely called “Doctor.”) Christian names are seldom used on this show and most characters wander around barking everyone else’s surnames as a means to hail and identify. It’s really annoying. Is this just a TV contrivance, or is it how the real world works and I’ve just been blind to it all my life?
Dipping into Robin of Sherwood is like attending the greatest Renaissance festival of your life, even though it’s a TV relic of a different time – the mid ‘80s – when shows didn’t move as fast as they do now. If you’re high on the current BBC incarnation of Robin Hood, there’s no guarantee this will be your flagon of mead, as character names are about all the two shows have in common. But the show casts a potent spell, and is quite unlike any other take on the infamous thief – although many a Sherwood fanatic claim that Costner’s Prince of Thieves borrowed liberally from this series, turning gold into bullshit along the way. (And the show does have quite a rabid cult following that doesn’t seem to have waned over the years.) Indeed, if you felt the Costner movie showed potential but missed the target, then you’ll likely find that Robin of Sherwood hits the red dot squarely in the center.
From the review:
There’s one major aspect of Season Nine of Dallas that must be mentioned before discussing it further: the entire season is a dream. Or, rather, the producers retconned it into a dream one of the main characters had.
After bemoaning the last few Peter Davison-era releases, I was excited about the release of “Black Orchid,” a story from his first season as the Doctor. Even though it’s half the length of a typical Doctor Who story (it’s only two episodes long), it’s regarded by many a fan as a little gem. But it’s an oddball gem, and not at all what one expects from this series. It has no science fiction elements aside from the TARDIS, and seems more like something that would’ve played on Mystery! back in the 80s. It’s noteworthy in that regard, because when the series started back in 1963, the first few seasons often featured such stories, although back then they were usually set against some important historical event. “Black Orchid,” by contrast, is far more intimate, and it isn’t trying to offer up some kind of history lesson seen through the eyes of time travelers.