The return of Doctor Who is always met with a flurry of opinions, and the latest reboot is no exception. Scrolling through platforms like IMDb, you’ll find a spectrum of reactions, from die-hard devotees dissecting every detail to newcomers experiencing the TARDIS for the first time. Fortunately, for those of us eager for more adventures with the Doctor, the buzz seems largely positive, hinting at a bright future for the show. Having watched “Rose,” the inaugural episode of this revamped BBC series, I can confidently say I’m excited.
It seems some of the loudest dissenting voices come from the most entrenched Whovians. As someone with a long history with the Doctor myself, I understand that protective passion. Back in my younger days, I was fully immersed in the world of Doctor Who. Doctor Who Magazine was a prized possession, and a cherished childhood memory involves receiving an autographed picture from Tom Baker after sending him a fan letter at the age of ten (a treasured keepsake still!). My grandmother even knitted me that iconic, impossibly long scarf! I was deep into the lore, understanding the intricacies of Time Lord regeneration and the nuances of villains like Roger Delgado.
My personal journey with the Doctor began in 1984, at the tender age of eight. It wasn’t high-definition screens or surround sound; it was a small, black and white television late at night in Arizona. Yet, through that modest screen, I was transported. It was a feeling akin to Peter Pan leading you to Neverland – a vivid, real magic that made you feel present alongside the Doctor and his companions, like Sarah Jane Smith and Harry Sullivan. Anyone who encountered Doctor Who in those formative years understands the profound impact and lasting enchantment.
As life progressed, as it inevitably does, my intense childhood obsession naturally mellowed. The complexities of teenage life took center stage. While characters like Peri Brown held a certain visual appeal, Saturday nights became more about real-world interactions than staying glued to the television screen. My fervent dedication, like Puff the Magic Dragon, gently faded as “Jackie Paper” grew up.
However, the anticipation for this new iteration of Doctor Who drew me back. Watching “Rose,” I found myself wearing two hats: that of the seasoned, critical fan, and that of the adult hoping to recapture a bit of that childhood wonder. The show, I’m happy to report, triumphs in the latter. A genuine smile remained plastered on my face throughout the episode’s 45 minutes. My prediction? This series will undoubtedly capture the imaginations of a new generation of young viewers. Doctor Who may have been my childhood best friend, but I’m ready and willing to share him with the audience he was always meant for. So, thank you, Russell T Davies, and a hearty welcome back, Doc!
