Although she may tell you it feels like 300 years, today marks Linda and my 30th anniversary.
We might even be daring enough to go out to eat, if the desired establishment has a COVID plan in place.
We’re crazy impulsive, we are.
*Next* year on September 9th, a year from tomorrow, is 40 years to the day we’ve known each other.
So, in a way, hopefully, maybe, we can actually take a trip somewhere in honor of the anniversary if things have somewhat changed for the better. We’ll see. If things remain in lockdown, so be it.
If I had to be locked down with someone, I’m happy it’s with her.
She’s always been there for me, and god knows the past year has tested everything.
Even before all that, whenever there’s been a nasty situation, she’s reminded me that there are always options.
Over the couple weeks when I’ve gone out first thing in the morning for the run, I’ve noticed the change. Gettin’ a bit cooler, and the scent of honeysuckle in the air.
At least, what I imagine honeysuckle would smell like, as I don’t know what it looks like, or smells like. But as I run along a certain stretch, there is a sweet smell.
It’s a comforting smell. It’s one of those smells you’re familiar with because it’s a timeless scent of nature. You smelled it outside when you were a kid, whether that was one year ago, or a hundred.
It’s that “back to school” smell, too, whether that’s actually at school or at home this year. Either way, the nature smells are there. Freshly cut grass. Or when you can tell it’s going to rain in a minute.
It’s all usually leading into Labor Day weekend.
Time was, you’d have part of your weekend carved out for the Jerry Lewis telethon.
That’s long gone, or at least I haven’t bothered to watch it since Jerry left.
And even then, the fascination of staying up late when I was a kid slowly transformed into the cynical adult watching to see what kind of train wreck Jerry would create.
I’ve never given much thought to what Jerry smelled like.
The BBC occasionally has a good idea here and there. Committing to animating some of the 1960’s missing episodes of Doctor Who is one of them.
They started out small, animating certain missing episodes to compliment the existing eps of certain stories.
The Invasion. The Ice Warriors. Reign of Terror. The Tenth Planet. The Moonbase. This enabled them to get these “completed” stories out on DVD. Okay, fair enough.
Then, for whatever reasons, they leveled up. They animated the never transmitted Shada from the Tom Baker era.
They began targeting completely missing stories to animate. All six parts of The Power of the Daleks, Troughton’s first adventure, animated in both color and black and white. This was quite a leap in budget and commitment, going all or nothing. But factions within BBC Worldwide that included BBC America probably wanted more Doctor Who stories both complete and available in color. The Macra Terror, Fury from the Deep and even more telling, ALL six parts of a The Faceless Ones, even though two eps exist on film! This was a huge turnaround– the BBC animating something they don’t *have* to?
It does make sense from a financial perspective, that *it’s worth the extra money to go the extra mile*. AND it’s even better for DVD sales.
It’s in this spirit that I feel I have to once again pledge my devotion to the notion of animating Marco Polo.
Yes, it’s seven parts. Yes, animators and budgets are screaming that it’s too much work and cost prohibitive to animate so many characters in period piece costumes. But hold on.
I’m not just suggesting that you spend a lot of money on animating the seven parts in both color and black and white. You’ve already been doing that.
No, I’m suggesting you spend a lot *more* money doing even MORE than that.
Bring back Waris Hussein, the original director –who still seems to be active in the industry and pretty spry for his age. Have him participate.
Waris directed both the first story, an Unearthly Child and Marco Polo. And he usually had to do so under less than favorable conditions and circumstances.
Originally, my idea was that he come back and in looking over the production stills, sets, listening to the existing audio track, he might have some fun reimagining certain camera shots, angles, etc. a slightly different vision, enabled by the freedom of animation.
Remember, back then, these directors had almost no budget, nothing to work with, yet quite often still managed to wow the audience with their ingenuity. Waris, especially. This would be an opportunity to let Mr. Hussein have some fun he was denied before.
And lest we forget, this was a story as told from Polo’s POV, narrating the adventure as he wrote in his journal and we were even treated to map graphics showing the progress on their long journey. This was not only a well written story, it was unique and inventive.
This reimagining of the story would be an event. Being able to see MP in all its glory.
And beyond that, even more options. Yes, you’d have the standard adventure in seven parts, in both color and black and white. But I think there’d be an opportunity for Waris to cut together a complete movie version of the serial. No, not one of those annoying cut down versions to save time. Bah.
No, though some padding would be cut out, an interesting option be Waris presenting it as a movie in its own right. It still might two hours or more, just without unnecessary bits and cliffhanger gaps.
AND, I think if these suggestions find their way to the BBC, I think the long term financial benefits would become clear.
First, you’d have the event and publicity that is this story once again coming to life with the return of Waris Hussein.
You’d have the DVD and blu-ray sales with this adventure. I know I and many others would buy it.
Then, you’d also have the entirety of William Hartnell’s first season to solicit for sale on blu-ray. Again, I and many others would buy this as well.
So yes, the down side would be the animation team charging extra for animating the extras, the costumes and the animals. But…
This was our 2007 trip, the follow up to Italy two years earlier. Not nearly as successful though. Some things went really well, others definitely did not. The plan was to fly into Athens, then take a cruise around the islands.
Our proposed ship was the state of art, most technologically advanced cruise ship around and had only been on one or two trips. We were very much looking forward to this. Too bad it sunk three months before our trip.
I guess these competing cruise ships and competing tour groups are more competitive than you think. While approaching a certain island, our super-ship tried to cut in line of the other ships, all jockeying for prime parking position. I guess it is very important to get as close as you can to shore in order to have shorter trips back and forth for the tender boats transporting people.
The brand new, young captain of our brand new proposed super-ship tried an end run around the others and proceeded to rip open the bottom of the ship on the rocks. They had to abandon ship. I called my travel agent. “Was that our ship?” after a slight hesitation, “Yes”. But everyone was assured we’d get a good ship to replace it.
Well, we got a ship. A 40 year old Swedish model, whose interiors had many facelifts in the intervening decades. Depending on which grand hall or dining room you waltzed through, you felt as though you’d entered the 1970’s or ’80’s. But interestingly, not the 1990’s or later. Also, the pool was out of service. One consolation, we did have an awesome room, best on the ship, FWIW.
Among the memorable stops on the cruise, we visited Turkey, more specifically, the ancient ruins of Ephesus. These were remains from a vast Roman city, some of it still intact, such as the amphitheater. There’s even the vast midway where Marc Antony and Cleopatra strolled to much fanfare. It was all quite impressive.
Mykonos was an interesting little place with windmills but little else. There was also a massive lack of organization as far as crowd control, as masses of people all tried to get on too few buses to get them back to their ships. It was an exercise in near panic.
The crown jewel of the trip though was Santorini and the city of Oia (Eee-ah). It’s a bit of a process getting there, though. It’s basically a city built into a sheer cliff a thousand feet high. Now, I *think* you can fly onto the top of the cliff via puddle jumper aircraft but that’s probably real pricey. The more common methods of reaching the top are A) tour bus, B) sky tram, C) donkey.
The tour buses have to take this extreme upward grade back and forth, I don’t know how many times. The sky tram is the faster and most crowded to wait for but it’s a straight shot. The donkeys take you up these giant staircases, with really long, flat wide stairs that they can climb, several times back and forth, up and up. I can’t imagine climbing those stairs. There are allegedly a thousand of them on these staircases that go back and forth like 20 times. I know of only one man who climbed these stairs, Brian Robson. Some say he went mad later in life after licking a desiccated, unclean raccoon skull.
We went up via bus and arrived in Oia. Little stairs, little shops, beautiful cafes and always a stunning view. I mean, you’re a thousand feet up, looking out over the sea. I guess people come and stay there just for the sunsets, and I can believe it. We would have liked to stay there for a week. Unfortunately, we had to get back down to the ground, and the tender boats to get back to the ship. Meaning we could spend no more than an hour in Oia. Yeah, the total lack of sensibility in their planning schedule sucked. We should have been able to spend the whole day there.
So the hour was almost up and that meant we had a certain amount of time built in for getting back down to sea level. I guess all ship people have to be off the island by 8pm. There were no more buses running, so we had three options. One, the sky tram, but the line was crazy backed up and with one round trip taking like 15 minutes, I seriously doubted we’d make it back in time. Two, ride the donkeys down the thousand steps. Not sure how long that would take, as I’m not sure how fast the donkeys trot. Three, we RUN down the steps. We chose option three, as I had more faith in us getting down there on our own power than options one or two. Off we went.
I said earlier that I couldn’t imagine going up the thousand, giant steps. Obviously, going down would be easier but trickier than I thought. And Linda was wearing flip flops. Kudos to her to agreeing to this, although we didn’t have a lot of choices. It also wasn’t like running down regular stairs. The timing was very different. You had to take a few running steps then down a step, make about 20 or 30 of them, hit the turn, do it all over again. I lost count how many giant staircases there were going down, I just kept thinking, go, go, go, because even though we took the fastest option, it was going to be tight. Because of the island rules, it was specifically stated that the last tender boat had to leave the dock at 8pm, no exceptions. No excuses.
The main obstacles we had as we were racing down the stairs, fueled by adrenaline, were the donkeys. This was *their* staircase after all and packs of them would amble up the stairs, heading to the top because it’s what they do all day long. I would end up running ahead of Lin, hitting the turnaround and announcing if there were any donkeys coming, and if they were coming up on the left or the right. The staircases were about 25 feet wide as well, to accommodate the herds. As we trampled down the stairs as fast as we could, the only other obstacle was the donkey dung. Lots and lots of donkey dung. Linda had flip flops on. You don’t want dung on your flip flops.
That’s a different story.
Finally, with a few minutes to spare, we made it to the tender boat and back to the ship, utterly exhausted and starving. We ordered in room service and just lay on the floor of our stateroom eating burgers.
Back we went to Athens for another day before heading back home. Did a little shopping, etc. But I really was enchanted by Oia and Santorini in general. I wouldn’t mind going back there if it were at all financially feasible.
A few years ago, Zach Snyder was the hand picked guy, either by producer Christopher Nolan or Warner bros. to take the lead in expanding the DC Comics cinematic universe.
Nolan had this power because Warner bros. was very happy with all the money Nolan made them with his Dark Knight trilogy (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises), even though the final installment was a hot goofy mess.
While *making* his trilogy, Nolan was insistent on not highlighting or even referring to a greater universe beyond Gotham city. No Superman, no other heroes, as he wanted to keep his Batman grounded, realistic and alone in his grim and gritty realism.
But now jumping up to producer, he seemingly had no qualms about them breaking out the rest of the characters. In fact, it’s possible he didn’t much care what they did and was hands off, because there seemed to be no one competent steering the ship from this point forward.
The first red flag was that there didn’t necessarily seem to be a firm battle plan in place that everyone was strongly committed to, SO……..
The “loose battle sketch” going forward was simple enough:
“Dark Knight was dark and grim and made us money so let’s have all our superheroes be like that!”
Enter Zach Snyder. A guy in his ’40’s who gave off the very youthful, nihilistic vibe of an arrogant 15 year old kid who was justifiably proud of the collection of black t-shirts with sayings he had laying all over the place where he lived in his parents basement. Oh, and he could be ironic.
So, Snyder set about directing Man of Steel, a new Superman (?) movie. A rather dark and grim movie featuring a mopey super powered god who was usually advised by his asshat father that he should just take care of himself and don’t worry about anyone else. This was before he committed suicide by tornado. It was a whole thing with him. Look out for number one at all costs, which goes against the whole Superman thing but Snyder is a follower of Ayn Rand and Objectivism (look it up kids). Anyway…
After destroying Metropolis and having been partly responsible for killing hundreds of thousands of people, the lead character makes out with his lady Lois at ground zero with a funny quip, destroys more of the city fighting with his enemy, snaps his neck and the end. It was a good movie, just a really abysmal Superman movie, and it didn’t really do the box office Warner’s was looking for. So some of the suits started to get a little nervous.
But hey, they had plans—Snyder was working on Batman V Superman (no, not a court case, a *movie*). This would kick off a big, brand new DC cinematic universe and there, at the very start of what would surely be a ten year commitment, they would introduce Ben Affleck as Batman at the *end* of his career. (?) But also introduce Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman. The loose sketch had some definite good bits.
This would in turn lead into two huge Justice League movies, also, more movies for Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Shazam, Flash, Cyborg and the Green Lantern Corps.
Warner expected huge, Avengers type box office profits from BVS, but although it had the usual impressive visuals, the execution and substance was lacking. The biggest, most pivotal moment in the film was horribly directed and turned into one of the biggest jokes and memes in superhero movie history.
Affleck, Cavill and Gadot were great but Snyder let down the side and again, the box office was a lot less than Warner’s expected. That was on Snyder. Now, the suits were getting more nervous, beginning to waver on this new “Snyderverse”, wondering if they may have made a mistake putting him at the helm of the ship.
Side note: If I haven’t made it clear, Snyder *does* provide excellent visuals. It’s his greatest selling point as a director. Awesome visuals are synonymous with Snyder. Good ideas and representations of some heroes, not so much. But we are a very visual society, so we just can’t help ourselves sometimes. We want to see the cool visuals. The Snyder cut will definitely have a good look to it.
The big two movie Justice League set was to be all about the JL going up against Darkseid and Apocalypse, but although Snyder had his fans, he had just as many fans against him and what he was putting out. Turns out, not everyone dug the destruction porn. It was at this point, everything went to shit.
Snyder had already shot a tremendous amount of footage on the first Justice League movie. A LOT. But Warner’s was rapidly losing faith in him and his product after seeing the results of his two previous efforts.
Tragedy struck as Snyder’s daughter committed suicide. He tried to keep himself busy with work but after a month, Snyder stepped down.
Warner’s tried to course correct, by bringing in Joss Whedon to try and revamp the film to be a bit lighter, more fun. The end result was more of a hodgepodge of Snyder and Whedon and as such, a bit adrift in the end, unremarkable, and yet another box office disappointment (To Warner’s).
I get it– the first Avengers film took in 1.5 BILLION.
BVS took in over 850 mil worldwide.
Justice League only managed about 650 million in comparison. So, yeah, Warner was not happy. The loose sketch had changed. The second JL movie was jettisoned, and Flash, Cyborg, GL Corps were all put on the back burner, as the suits had become incredibly timid and hesitant to do anything by this point. Only the films that were already well into production were kept on.
Amidst all this, there was talk of “a Snyder cut”. Not much was said but there were hints that there was the remote possibility of that being produced in some fashion.
In the theaters, Wonder Woman came out and was a critical hit and made over 800 million. Aquaman came out to critical derision but still made a billion! The first film from this post Nolan DCCU to achieve this.
The suits became bold again, kinda, and started thinking about coming back to the Flash movie, while WW2 and Aquaman 2 plans forged ahead.
Which more or less brings us to the here and now. COVID, production and release delays, etc.
But in this post apocalyptic, pre-Apocalypse world, there exists one film that is so far along, that whatever’s left could be done remotely. Soon it was revealed that all the primary filming on Justice League was pretty much done when Snyder exited. All that was needed was some extra voice recording and CGI work done. All of which could be done at home.
Meanwhile, the monster leviathan corporation known as AT&T/Warner also began yet another streaming service called HBO MAX that almost no one knows how to access. If they did though, yeah, they’d find stuff.
Meanwhile, Warner’s needs stuff to fill it with in case anyone wants a 10th streaming service they can pay for each month.
Enter, The Snyder Cut. By May 2021, when the world is a drastically different place yet again–one way or another—The Snyder Cut will air in four, hour long episodes on HBO MAX and then get cut together as one huge honkin’ movie.
I don’t intend to get the streaming service, but I would have no problem getting the blu-ray when it comes out.
Because I’m curious. I’ve often said that even a pure Snyder cut or a pure Whedon cut would have been superior to the tame, muddied mix we got in theaters.
And although Snyder does excel at cool visuals, yes, I have no doubt he will go that extra step too far and the “short attention span of a 15 year old with control issues” mentality will screw up a major bit –again. It will make the end product lesser than it could have been–again.
But after all that’s happened and will happen, really, we’ll watch just about anything.
Another interesting development is that recently, there was a massive bloodletting at HBO and DC comics with a ton of people kept go, and there’s a brand new CEO at AT&T/Warner’s. So we’ll see how that effects the DCCU applecart.
This reminds me– I feel a blog coming on about how the DC Cinematic Universe will be tackling the multiverse…
A year ago, in a process that stretched out over two days, I was re-gifted my stem cells.
They were all scrubbed up and shiny though and everyone involved in the process was fond of saying it was my “birthday” or a “rebirth” or “birth of an all new idiot” or something.
I wasn’t paying a lot of attention as I was coming off a very unpleasant week. They basically had to kill me (or make me feel as if I were dead) before I could rise like a phoenix from the hospital bed.
Mostly, I was laying there getting pumped full of stem cells and there was this obscenely “full” feeling, like a kielbasa stuffed in a too small casing. Kinda of like I just ate a ridiculously large amount of food and had that uncomfortable feeling, only instead of my stomach, it was all over.
But…Rebirth!
I can’t really say that I’m a whole new man bursting with boundless energy, as I am 58 and overweight, but the hair’s certainly back to what it was in my twenties, albeit more gray.
I’m enjoying what I can, at least as much as anyone can these days, during lockdown, without being too big an idiot. But never fear, I’m still the same *brand* of idiot.
Hmm. So today, I’m one year old. I guess I can eat chocolate cake….
(it probably needn’t be said lack of talent is the primary reason but read on!)
Although I know Jonathan Groff primarily from the excellent Netflix series Mindhunter, I was totally unaware he was already a Broadway legend. I’ve slowly been learning this as I drop down into YouTube wormholes, where he seems to appear with other Broadway legends I’ve never heard of before.
He hopped on stage in front of a massive crowd with some woman who was hugely popular (I can’t even remember her name, never heard of her), and they complimented each other on being legendary.
I am REALLY disconnected with anything and everything Broadway related.
This is not surprising, as the last proper play I attended was “Nunsense” back in some decade.
I even offended my children when I mentioned being annoyed by some screeching woman in a Geico commercial. She was obviously someone of note from how the commercial played out but when I voiced my displeasure, the kids were horrified that I’d dare say anything negative about the great and powerful Idina Menzel, star of Frozen and yet another Broadway legend. Yeah, sorry, couldn’t get through more than five minutes of Frozen, it’s overrated and we are far too easily pleased with the Kool-aid in this area. She’s screechy.
Let it go.
But anyway, my obliviousness of the big Broadway names and their legendary careers and status aside, I still admire their commitment. Take Hamilton for example.
It’s mind blowing to me how these actors can memorize those lines, the songs, the moves. In *any* typical play, there’s a ton of work to be done, its mind boggling. To not only remember your lines, but interact with a bunch of other actors, being wholly dependent on each other, as you act, sing, dance– a single organism, operating together for the entertainment of a giant crowd seated before you. All the while under the hot stage lights, in costume, sweating, moving, while negotiating props, furniture, the stage, other actors, their breath…
I admire these actors, singers, dancers, and their amazing abilities. These people have to mentally go to a different place, transform themselves, to really put themselves out there, be vulnerable, open up their soul and give of themselves to an almost dizzying degree, becoming extremely close with other actors. Talking, kissing, yelling, singing, whispering and spitting.
This is how I know I can never be an actor. At least as far as acting with other people. I’m not one to do the whole opening, giving, sharing bit. I don’t even like close talkers.
Just back off!
This is what I noticed in Hamilton. Amidst all the AMAZING on display, you can’t help but notice the occasional spittle flying through the air. Thanks HDTV!
Yes, it really IS a testament to how invested these professionals are in bringing it, making the experience come alive and they are incredible. But when Washington is yelling at Hamilton, you wonder how many showers Manuel-Miranda is taking every day on stage.
Now you might say I shouldn’t focus on that, and you’re right, but I’m not focusing on it, I’m just making a casual observation of an incredible job on their parts. I’m also pointing out one of the many reasons why I’m not in any way cut out for the stage and never have been.
I could never keep a straight face, for one thing. Watch the outtakes of any old Burt Reynolds movie with Don Deluise. The man was always breaking down laughing, non stop. No idea how he ever got through a film. That’s how I’d be. 100%.
There is a remote possibility that I might be able to remember my lines but once on stage, under the lights, in costume, with an audience staring at me? Oh, forget about it. I would implode under pressure, start riffing,–badly– falling into bouts of uncontrollable laughter and then just start sweating with an intensity that would put Albert Brooks in “Broadcast News” to shame (look it up, kids).
I’d find it incredibly hard to focus, too. Seriously, if they had the depth of child diagnosis 50 years ago that they do today, I actually believe I’d be labeled as having A.D.D. or god knows what–I’m not kidding.
But the first time someone’s saliva glands started spraying in my direction, I’d probably duck or something and ….. illusion ruined.
So, watching Groff just absolutely kill it with the “You’ll be back” song is fascinating, brilliant, compelling, and at one point, you kind of wonder if he didn’t *just* eat an apple a minute before.
Again, I have nothing against those with leaking mouths.
Some of my best friends are droolers.
That particular shower is just not for me, and I’d just be too self conscious if I did it and that’s why I’ll never play King George. (Along with that other laundry list of reasons.)
My friend Pam loves animals. Bugs. All forms of life*. Even does Bird Rescue. All very noble and compassionate. She would willingly make various forms of sacrifices at any and all times, just for the sake of showing common courtesy to the smallest, tiniest life form (again, *).
So, whenever there’s an animal in some form of distress, I can’t help but think WWPD? What Would Pam Do?
Now, some or all of you may know of my War with the Squirrels.
They hate me and barely tolerate me and the feeling is mutual. We have a history. They try and steal from the bird feeder, they gnaw and destroy my front steps, I chase them away and lay down spices and various powders to repulse them.
Yes, one time, one of the little f***ers peed on me– but that’s neither here nor there now.
But at times, there are exceptions.
Like today, when Matthew, while out for a walk, came upon what seemed to be an injured squirrel or at least one with something wrong with it. It was small, probably an adolescent, and it was not right. Couldn’t seem to move much. Matt assumed it was injured and called me at home.
I hate the injured animal call because very seldom does it have a happy ending. And very likely, you’re on your own. I told Matt to do a search for animal control or some place that might be able to help, while I grabbed a bottle of water and drove over. At one point, it was squealing but had stopped by the time I got there.
From what I could see, it didn’t even seem injured, just wrong, and moving oddly. I’d wondered if it simply fell a great distance. Perhaps from an extremely high branch, but usually squirrels can take a lot of leaps and crazy landings, so I don’t know.
I poured a little water into the cap of the bottle and put it in front of him but he didn’t drink it. He was panting heavily though. The humane society branch of Hinsdale just put Matt on hold and the village of Western Springs was somehow closed at noon on a Friday. I knocked on the door of the person whose driveway it was, and asked if they had the police non emergency number and if they wouldn’t mind calling it while we thought of alternatives. She dialed it and put it on speaker, then we were immediately put on hold.
The thought of course crossed my mind What Would Pam Do? And there’s the dilemma.
Here’s where I basically suck as a person. Well, that might be extreme but moral and ethical practices start to get very flexible here, as far as animal responsibility.
If I *called* Pam, I would be honor bound to blindly follow any and all instructions she might give me. That gave me pause.
There’s probably a sizable gap between the lengths I would go to and the lengths Pam would go to for critters. I once swore a blood oath against a raccoon and then there’s the whole aforementioned squirrel-war thing.
While Pam has been known to slightly restructure an outside dinner party to accommodate a spider spinning its web. She’s been known to let webs take prominent hold in various places of her home for the comfort of the spider. Her husband Mike had one spider jump in his eye when he came too close to the kitchen sink. She goes to extreme lengths to drive downtown in the wee hours of the morning to rescue birds who’ve been hurt flying into buildings. She’s transported various sick animals hundreds of miles in the dead of night. She is probably the most compassionate person I know when it comes to animals.
The point here is that *knowing* that Pam will do anything and everything on earth for a furry friend, yes, frankly, I was very hesitant to call her. I actually feared the call might go something like this–
I’d call her and give her the scoop and as much detail as I could.
She’d tell me to perform some type of CPR on the animal.
Put its head in your mouth and blow gently.
Check it’s limbs for awkward orientation, fashion a splint out of twig, I don’t know.
Take it home, put it under a heat lamp, give it a sponge bath, and raise it as your own.
Name him “Nik-nik” or some such moniker.
All this went through my mind in a split second– because it’s not the first time it’s happened–dealing with an injured animal.
I won’t go into it but like every other time in similar circumstances, before we could even get anyone on the phone to actually tell them about this, the squirrel stopped breathing and it was over. I thanked the other person for the phone, then Matt and I left.
End of that sad adventure.
But as always, the thought occurred, WWPD?
So, as I was saying….
*She will move heaven and earth for any animal, bug or plant on earth but if she sees a centipede, she will exterminate it with extreme prejudice.
Just because they creep her out. All the legs, etc. Go figure.
(Thankfully that loophole gives me a lot to work with on the high moral ground if our different wildlife views ever come into conflict.)
I mean, *I* don’t kill centipedes, I rinse them down the drain where they came from. Hey, they have a chance.
For decades, we Doctor Who fans have had to live with the knowledge that in the early 1970’s, the BBC had a practice of destroying tapes of programs to make room in the warehouse, as space was limited. So, of the approximately 253 eps of Doctor Who made in the 1960’s, 152 were missing. That means a big chunk of first Doctor William Hartnell’s run and an even bigger selection of second Doctor Patrick Troughton’s run is missing. A good analogy: imagine here in America, if NBC had decided in 1972 to destroy the master tapes of almost half of the original series of Star Trek? It’s like that. And not just DW, but all types of shows were being destroyed.
Luckily, at least one fan who was around the BBC at the time, Ian Levine, took notice and started bringing it to people’s attention. He also managed to save the second broadcast story, “The Daleks” from the incinerator. The practice of wiping had then stopped and ever since, there’s been a quest to find copies of old missing episodes. See, although the BBC was destroying tapes, they had also sold the episodes to other countries, so at one point, there were copies in 90 other countries. Many of these countries still had copies in archives and vaults, or just laying around in piles collecting dust. It was a matter of locating them. Over the years, various episodes have been recovered here and there. In the 1990’s, we were lucky enough to have the four episode Troughton story “Tomb of the Cybermen” recovered from one of these countries. That was a minor miracle.
Part of the problem is that once countries or a certain facility realize the importance of the missing tapes, they sometimes go from disinterested observer, oblivious to what Doctor Who even is… to greedy protector of the Holy Grail, and are suddenly loathe to release them. Phillip Morris is a dedicated investigator/video archeologist who’s been to over 50 countries, searching for any and all missing episodes. The biggest find back around 2012, was when he unearthed 9 missing eps from some place in Africa. This was HUGE. the biggest haul since the start of the quest. Four eps were from The Web of Fear, a beloved Troughton story, bringing the total of existing eps to five out of the six. Five of the eps were from Troughton’s “Enemy of the World”, actually *completing* that six parter.
This was like Christmas all over again. We’d all been familiar with Web of Fear, a story of the monstrous Yeti invading the London Underground, a heralded classic. But Enemy was very underrated. I don’t think kids were all that jazzed about it at the time it originally went out, as it was more of a James Bond meets Doctor Who type international intrigue story. It had been missing for 45 years, so the adults who’d seen it live were mostly dead and the kids who’d seen it, didn’t appreciate it. So this was kind of like an all new, brand new Doctor Who story, a real treat, showing up after 45 years, just in time for the 50th anniversary of the show. Due to the efforts of people like Levine and Morris, the missing count went from 152, down to 97.
But what OF those other remaining 97 eps? Well, in a recent interview, Phil Morris he said point blank that he knows of at *least* six more episodes that are currently in the hands of private collectors. He won’t say who or which episodes but they’re out there. As to the mind set of these private collectors… why are they hoarding these things–Ego? Power? Stature? Maybe, but Morris says that the most common response he gets from them is they fear how the fans will treat them. And that is a problem. Fans can be wonderful but also… not. Let’s go with “mercurial”. The fans get angry when these private collectors don’t share, thus depriving millions of fans. I get it. But if a collector hands over their prize, some might think the fans will gather with torches and string them up? Or that the BBC will give them the stink eye? Realistically, I can’t speak for all fans but mostly, I’d think they’d all be so happy to get the stories back, I think they’d happily forget whoever did the hoarding.
Side note: One bright spot is that a number of missing episodes have been animated. In some cases, animation filled the gaps of missing eps, like Hartnell’s Reign of Terror (2 eps of the 5), Tenth Planet (1 ep of the 4), and Troughton’s “The Moonbase” (2 eps of the 4), “The Ice Warriors” (2 eps of the 6) and “The Invasion” (2 eps of the 8).
And in certain cases, entire stories, either totally or partially missing have also gotten the animated treatment like Troughton’s first story, the six part “Power of the Daleks”, “The Faceless Ones” (6 eps), “The Macra Terror” (4 eps) and “Fury from the Deep” (6 eps).
There was even a dedicated recreation of the unique Hartnell episode “Mission to the Unknown, a bit easier to recreate since neither the Doctor or his companions appeared in the one shot.
Between animation and recreation, another 30 episodes are back in video form, but it still leaves 67 left missing entirely.
So there we are. Morris actually believes all the missing eps will eventually find their way home. Well, one can hope. One must also hope that they’ll be found and returned in one’s *lifetime*. I’m not sure exactly what type of relationship or incentives, if any, are being put forth by the BBC when it comes to possible negotiations for the tapes. I’m wondering if the Beeb is really doing all it reasonably can to make returning tapes a positive experience for the private collectors. Greasing the wheels, as it were. Not that I don’t trust big companies, but I don’t really trust them to always be on top of a situation, you know? I guess we’ll see.
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