Doctor or Doctors?

My latest random philosophical discussion on the greatest tv show ever is, like the last one, a simple question: is the Doctor one man with many faces, or is he merely different men with the same memories? Put simply, how much does he change with each regeneration: merely on the outside, or does his very soul change, too?

Initially, it’s easy to believe it’s the case of the latter. After all, let’s think of just how distinct and different each incarnation of the Doctor is. The grumpy old man of Hartnell, the cosmic hobo of Troughton, the arse-kicking dandy of Pertwee, the bohemian wanderer of Baker and so on, each one seeming completely different to the one before. Take any old story from each of them and compare, and it’s clear as day: the Doctor directly changes in every possible way as a direct result of regeneration, not just in body, but also in mind and soul, right?

Well, actually, possibly not.

Let’s take a closer examination at each incarnation’s life. Compare their first and last stories. Some incarnations have changed a little over time. Most, however, seem to change greatly.

For a prime example, look at one of the most legendary incarnations of them all, Tom Baker. Compare two truly classic stories, Genesis of the Daleks and City of Death. One from his first season, the other from his sixth. Never mind the content of the stories themselves, but look at how his Doctor is in each of them. In the former, he’s a very dark, serious alien, a man on a mission, sometimes having a glimpse of humour or wit, but overall, a man that knows the seriousness of the situation and treats it as such.

Now, let’s skip ahead five years later to City of Death, where the Doctor seems to treat everything as a joke, playing the fool and acting like an idiot even when a gun’s pointed at him, revealing only how truly wise and intelligent he is when things are at their most desperate towards the end. In other words, the exact opposite of the man we saw in Genesis of the Daleks, despite being the exact same incarnation. Now true, this is partially down to the very tone of the stories, and indeed of the seasons in general, that have an effect on how the Doctor may react to the situation. But it can’t be denied that as the fourth incarnation’s era goes on, he gradually becomes less and less outwardly serious along the way. Not a criticism, I think both interpretations are fantastic, but it completely destroys the idea of each incarnation being quite so distinctive from each other as people believe.

This can in fact be said for practically all the Doctor’s incarnations – the first Doctor starts out as a mysterious, almost antagonistic man, reluctant to help anyone in need, who by the end plays an active role in saving the Earth in his final story; the seventh Doctor started out as a very silly man who grew more secretive towards his companions and more dangerous to his enemies, almost as if he was playing a very dangerous game of chess on a universal scale; the tenth Doctor who starts out as a happy-go-lucky figure who by the end is a man wrecked with guilt and pain.

Ah, the Tenth Doctor. Now, here comes an important point. In my opinion, this is really where a lot of belief that the Doctor is really just different men with the same memories comes from. Specifically, it’s to do with The End of Time, for which spoilers are to follow.

Now, I’ve got a confession to make – I hate the End of Time. Not so much for the story itself – it’s complete nonsense, but I’ve gotta admit, the majority of the story is fairly entertaining, both for John Simm being batshit crazy on a worldwide scale and for Timothy Dalton being fucking awesome, and it has to be said, Tennant's performance is absolutely amazing for what he's given. So why do I hate it? Because of a few key scenes of how the Doctor feels about his next regeneration, which he describes to his close friend Wilf.

“It feels like death…everything I am dies. Some new man goes walking away…and I’m dead.”

Words cannot begin to describe how much I loathe this description, as it seems to piss all over the very idea of what regeneration is about in the first place: a very clever way to continue the story of the Doctor. Maybe he changes somewhat to a degree on the outside – perhaps due to having the brain cells more than a little shaken up, or for other, deeper reasons, which I’ll get to later – but clearly the same man. This quote from Tennant’s Doctor actually pretty much ignores the key central idea of what makes the concept of regeneration so great in the first place, which in my opinion, is just bad writing. Yes, we do get attached to particular incarnations, either due to the performance or the style, and it’s more than likely that the Doctor himself gets attached to each and every one of his different bodies at the time, since regeneration is pure change in a very huge sense, and it’s natural to fear it. After getting used to seeing through a particular pair of eyes, speak with a particular voice, even identifying what sort of clothes work best with his particular body best (or so he thinks), all vital parts of his identity, gone in an instant. When that happens, he knows he’d have to start from scratch all over again, learn to get used to seeing through a new pair of eyes, speak with a new voice, essentially find out who he has to be. It’s perfectly natural to be afraid of something as scary as that. And I think that that fear is potentially a great thing to explore.

But the use of the D word was, in my opinion, the worst way to do it.

And it only got worse, with one scene having the Doctor rage at his situation and how he could do “so much more”, with his final words being the worst: “I don’t want to go.” The whole implication being that, whoever the next incarnation is, he will, in no way shape or form, have anything left of Ten within him. That the “soul” of the Doctor’s tenth incarnation would be replaced with another. This pure selfishness written into the character really made me hate the Doctor at this point in his life. I’d like to believe that it was intentional, that it was a clear sign that the Doctor had become too attached this particular body, as it was the only thing left that reminded him of all his particular incarnation’s companions, and that change by this point was completely necessary for the Doctor to move on so we actually wanted him to finally change. I’d love to believe that. But again, there’s nothing really in the story that even hints of it like that, and in the end, it just comes across as bad writing.

I criticise this because, to me, this is the only time I can think of where the idea of regeneration makes a man completely different to how he once was. OK, so like I said, the Doctor’s differences when awakening in a brand new body are especially noticeable, and there might be considered a huge change in personality…but is it a direct effect of regeneration alone, or is it more natural than that?

Let’s think of what actually happens in regeneration: the Doctor is mortally wounded, so to survive, his body changes every single cell. Sometimes, he dies first for a moment, then slowly the process starts, sometimes it happens in the same instant in the same instant as dying. In either case, can you imagine how pretty fucking traumatic that would be? Put simply, the guy dies and is born again, and unsurprisingly, the process of having every single cell change in his body and bringing him back from the dead is a rather painful one. Can you imagine the level of trauma that could bring to a man? No wonder almost every single incarnation begins as either completely nuts or deeply psychologically scarred.

Again, let’s look at it from another angle: the reasons he died in the first place. However it happens, it will more than likely affect how he looks at life in some fundamental way in his next incarnation. It might inspire him to seize life (such as the fourth wanting to leave Earth straight away after spending so much time on it in his third incarnation), or learn to be more cautious (such as the fifth gaining a new fear of heights after his previous incarnation died from such a fall). Look at how each incarnation is different to the last one, and suddenly it all makes sense: it’s not a result of regeneration that causes him to be so different, it’s the result of dying and coming back from that that causes him to push himself forward. Not in the way Ten’s Doctor described death, not as something permanent, but, ironically, in a way that’s a life-changing experience for the Doctor.

In short, I absolutely believe that the Doctor, no matter what body he’s in, is simply The Doctor. He changes, but, in the non-physical sense, only as much as we do – from time, from experience, from life itself. Regeneration doesn’t make a new man altogether, it just arguably forces the same man underneath to get used to a different body. Of course, this is purely my opinion – I’m sure someone out there can give a few reasons on why he’s really many different men. My problems with the End of Time made it clear that, I regret to say, this blog entry is far from unbiased. But it’s a view I’ve held for a long time, and it’s only recently dawned on me why that is: if I didn't believe that all the incarnations were the same man underneath, I wouldn't be nearly as interested in this epic fairy tale as I am. I hope I've provided some interesting reading for the average Who fan, at least, and I hope it provides food for thought on this much loved show for ya.