By ShannonLush
This week,
in honour of the on-screen deaths of Amy and Rory in the mid-season finale
episode 'The
Angels Take
Manhattan', we take a special look back at the companions of the Doctor who
have been
killed,
directly or indirectly as a result of traveling with the Timelord.
The role of
the companion has, of course, changed over the almost-five decades the series
has been in existence.
In its basic form, the companion characters are the 'anchors' of reality that
ground
'Doctor Who'
in some semblance of the 'real world'. In a Whoniverse full of impossible
things, from
Yeti in the
Underground to a race of near-immortal beings who shed every vestige of
themselves
periodically
in order to be renewed, it was and is important that the viewing audience be
served by
presenting
individuals that mirror themselves.
To that end,
the companion is a cipher, there to ask the questions that the viewing audience
may be
wishing they
could ask, whenever the Doctor was about to fire up the TARDIS and venture off
to
another
far-flung world. They served the writers of the stories by providing convenient
reasons for
the Doctor
to explain important plot points.
The
companion characters were often female, to 'keep the dads watching' as many
producers of the
series
explained, often portrayed in extremely sexist manners by the male writers,
producers, and
actors that
populated the series. Many a companion actress complained that their roles
essentially
required
nothing more strenuous in their acting than to convincingly portray twisted
ankles, screaming hysterically
and running in fear from the various monsters present, or else, like Tegan
chafed at in 'The Five
Doctors', fetching the tea.
Conversely, the male companions often provided
little more than 'muscle', in the form of lifting polystyrene rocks, wrestling monsters, or
destroying futuristic-looking prop equipment.
As the
series progressed, and began to be scrutinized more and more by critics and
audiences who
either
expressed outrage or else mocked it's dated presentations of stereotypical
companions, 'Doctor
Who' slowly
and begrudgingly embraced change, and began a process of introducing modern
companions.
The Tegan
character was a headstrong, modern woman fully capable of speaking up for
herself and her friends, and
often butted heads with the Doctor himself, in addition to most of the
antagonists in
episodes
featuring her. Dorothy McShane, better known as 'Ace', was perhaps the first
fully-formed
companion
character, with story lines centered around her past and her growth as a person
; while not
receiving
on-screen co-star status, anyone who has watched an episode of the Seventh
Doctor's era
featuring
Ace certainly would agree she is, in fact, equal to the Doctor himself in terms
of screen
time and
depth of character. The embryonic character development begun with Sarah Jane
Smith, which stalled with
Peri, regained traction with Ace, for the betterment of the series.
For all
their worth as characters essential to the plot of the series, to their value
as marketing
tools,
perhaps the one arena in which 'Doctor Who' companions serve to their utmost is
an arena that
has been
cautiously and tentatively explored only rarely in the history of the series:
killing them.
As noted,
companions, in their most basic form, are meant to provide the 'bridge' by
which viewers
can relate
to the alien main character, fantasize themselves into his adventures each
week, and
vicariously
travel along with him in his TARDIS as he explores time and space. As perverse
as it
sounds,
killing a companion in effect amputates the identifying character from the
audience.
It is at
best risky, at worst catastrophic, and can cause concern, fear, doubt, and that
cardinal sin of any long-running
series; audiences turning it off.
So, why
proceed with it? After all, in a fantasy-based action adventure series such as
'Doctor Who',
when even
the main character never actually 'dies' in the human sense and companions can
always
simply leave
or be left behind by the Doctor, what is the motivation to actually sever that
link
between
audience and series? To understand it, we must delve into the history of the
chosen
companions who
have been seen to be killed on-screen.
First, there
are ground rules, of course. We are focusing, for reasons of time and clarity,
only upon
those
companions that have been featured in the series itself, and those that have
been seen to be
killed on-screen.
And by this we mean, the companion is killed and is not resurrected, cloned,
copied,
their deaths are not written off as dream sequences or later retconned by
'timey whimey'
means so
that they didn't die, but are instead alive in some alternate universe...no, we
mean, they
are dead, no
coming back. For in a fantasy series such as 'Doctor Who', featuring such a
whimsical
and at times
sentimental Whoniverse, the harsh reality of death has been explored in a
variety of
ways, and
many a character has found a way to 'cheat death'. To quote the 10th Doctor, we
mean dead
as in 'no
second chances'.
Second, the
expanded Whoniverse has frequently touched on and all-out featured multiple
companions that have
died while traveling with the Doctor. Many a writer of expanded Whoniverse work
has saddled the
Doctor with the added burden of partial or full responsibility for the deaths
of
companions
of their own devising, in order to layer on the tension and drama for their
stories. Not
only are we
not focusing on these stories in this blog, we also gently scold the writers of
such
stories for
choosing to do so, as it not only cheapens the rare but momentous events of
companion
deaths
within the series itself by overplaying them, it serves no purpose other than
to torture the
noble Doctor
character. Too many writers have taken the joy out of the Doctor character in
this way.
Now that we
have established the ground rules and have explored the traditional role of the
companion character
and how and why it has changed, let us now look at why have writers and
producers chosen to kill certain
ones. To do this, we must travel back in time to the heady days of William
Hartnell's First Doctor, when the series was new and the future was bright even
'if' it was in black and white.
The year was
1965. 'Doctor Who' was beginning to establish the foot-hold into the British
public
consciousness
that would eventually see it grow to become a mainstay on BBC One. Now in its
third
season, the
series had already flexed its creative muscles, successfully alternating
historical
stories with
those set in the future, expanding to please audiences who preferred one or the
other,
if not both.
'Dalekmania' had hit and the dreaded Daleks were set to make a triumphant
return in an
epic
storyline that would dominate this season and be a ratings hit. The ground work
for this had
begun in the
second episode, 'Mission To The Unknown', which would serve as a 'prequel
story', the
plot
elements of this flowing into 'The Daleks Masterplan'.
Sandwiched
between these two episodes was another, an historical story that served several
functions.
First, to
reduce the set design budget of the season as a whole, in order to ensure proper
allocation of funds
went to the Dalek epic, as this story was set in ancient Greece and did not
require
expensive
costumes or futuristic props.
Second, to write-out the companion character
Vikki, who many saw for what she
was intended to be to begin with, a watered-down replacement for the departed
Susan.
Third, to
introduce a new companion character, once more a female, only this time, with
an important
element
attached; a companion from the far distant past who was created to visually
remind the
audience of
the vast scope of time and space to which the Doctor was able to traverse.
While modern
and cynical fans and audiences alike could speak to the portend of doom it
would be to
introduce
such a character, to which even modern electricity would be akin to magic let
alone a
TARDIS, the
production staff at the time perhaps could be forgiven for not understanding
the long term adverse
implications that the character of Katarina, handmaiden to a Trojan prophetess,
would be.
Nevertheless,
'The Myth Makers', itself a rather bland and nondescript episode in a season
full of
the highest
highs and the lowest lows, will always be recalled for introducing this
little-known
companion.
Played by
Adreinne Hill, Katarina found herself aboard the TARDIS when she assisted the
grievously
wounded
Steven, spiriting him away from the historical battle that waged around them.
Immediately
attempting
to quantify her experience inside the TARDIS and traveling through time and
space in ways her
primitive mindset could understand, she equated the Doctor to a god from the
pantheon of Greek gods, and
rationalized the TARDIS as his great cabinet, to which she was traveling
through spirit worlds.
Uneasy with the arrangement to begin with, the Doctor gently chided her for her
belief
system,
though eventually he decided against debating it, as to do so would open up a
can of worms.
It is here,
in Katarina's lack of understanding that the genesis of her ultimate undoing
begins. As
noted, the
pitfalls of introducing a character that simply cannot come to terms
physically,
emotionally,
and rationally with the very underpinnings of the series itself, that of
individuals
traveling
through time and space in a time machine, 'should' have been apparent to all
involved, and
yet somehow
were not. Objections 'should' have been raised at the scripting stage, long
before
Katarina
made her actual on-screen debut. They were not. Instead, blinded by the need to
forge on
with a new
female companion as the series had done for the previous two years, the
production team
simply made
a mistake. Fortunately for them, a loophole was just around the corner. A
loophole from
Skaro, that
would provide the most efficient jumping-off point for Katarina. A loophole
called the
Daleks...
While not
billed as a companion as such in the media of the day, Katarina 'was' intended
to continue
as a
companion, though for how long is a matter of debate. At the time, 'Doctor Who'
operated very
much on a
skin-of-the-teeth mentality, and this was reflected in the manner in which
companions were selected and
cast. Unlike the modern series it would become, with long-running story arcs, in-dept character
exploration, and reoccurring themes, the series of the 1960's was still quite
new and was never really
assured of its place in the corporate BBC's hearts and minds. As such, it
adopted an
unofficial
'wait and see' approach, and this bled into the way in which companions were
casted beyond the first
three.
The actor
and actresses behind the characters of Susan, Ian, and Barbara, being the first
companions
ever in
series history, were each given contracts reflective of the time; again, though
not billed as
such in the
credits, this trio were more akin to 'co-stars' than companions, as the
original series
formatting
intentionally featured an ad hoc 'family' consisting of the Doctor, his
granddaughter, and
her two
former school teachers. This meant that they were given more money, more
storylines devoted to their
characters, and more behind-the-scenes consideration than most of those who
came after them.
By the time
they all departed, the companion character grew closer to what it would be as
the series
progressed;
an easily replaceable, short-term friend for the Doctor and the person or
persons he
simply
explained things to for the benefit of the audience. No longer would companions
be related to
the Doctor
by blood as Susan was, and no longer would any companions be casted in order to
fulfill the requirements
set out in various series 'bibles'. By 1965, companions were de-emphasized and
the
Doctor
himself gained center stage, a creative tweak that many a production team was
pleased to
enforce for
the perceived benefit of the series.
With all of
that in mind, the myriad of storyline problems that Katarina's existence as a
companion
generated
almost immediately upon arrival slapped the production team in the face just as
quickly.
Frantic
meetings were held, and groans of exasperation were heard, as writers and
producers
envisioned
being forced to continually re-visit the issue of how the Doctor could co-exist
with
someone from
several thousand years ago in Earth's history, who would not understand even
rudimentary
science and would shrink away from a light bulb being turned on. In this era,
in which
the series
was attempting to shed its fantastical nature in general and become more 'hard
SF' in
tone, even
within the historical stories, Katarina simply could not continue as a
companion.
Terry
Nation, creator of the Daleks and writer of the following story, 'The Daleks
Masterplan', was
asked to add
additional scenes to his epic, which would serve to write the Katarina
character out, as
this story
was the first and best opportunity presented that would allow for the character
to be
dumped.
Nation, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, quickly realized that not
only would
killing
Katarina within a Dalek story contribute greatly to the Dalek's street cred, it
would allow
him to twist
her unfamiliarity with technology to his advantage for dramatic purposes.
Protective
of the Doctor, a man she considers as some form of 'god', Katarina not only
kills herself
when he is
threatened along with herself and Steven by the villainous Kirksen aboard a
ship bound for a
Dalek-occupied world, she does so in spectacular fashion, activating an airlock
that blows herself and Kirksen
into space. There, she dies what must be a painful and horrific death. Nation
added ambiguity to
her motivations, inserting an exchange of dialog between the Doctor and Steven
to the effect that
while Steven calls it an accident based on her lack of knowledge of modern
tech, the
Doctor
considers she sacrificed herself for their safety and somehow knew all along
her breaking the
airlock seal
would result in keeping them safe. An unusually grim and violent end to a
companion
character,
the first of its kind in series history.
After
dispensing with Katarina, and learning the lesson of never introducing
characters from a time
period so
far removed from the age of science that they would never be able to catch on,
the
production
team of the day received little in the way of negative feedback from BBC brass
or
audiences.
Then again, as much as modern fans consider the series to have 'grown up' in
the past five
decades and
to have grown away from its roots as a funny little kid's show, the fact is
early
'Doctor Who'
often presented violent segments; including implying a character was raped in
'The Time Meddler' and
the time-destructor sequences in which characters are forcibly aged to death in
the very story
Katarina is herself killed, 'The Daleks Masterplan'. To its fans in the 1960's,
Katarina's
death barely
registered as noteworthy, or anything more sinister than providing a powerful
moment in
an episode
full of them.
After the
misstep of Katarina was purged from the series, it would not be for another
sixteen years
before the
issue of killing a companion was revisited, and this time it was milked for all
it was
worth. The
character of Adric, introduced during the dying days of Tom Baker's era, was a
young
mathematician
who had stowed away on board the TARDIS in the episode 'Full Circle'. Held over
to the Fifth
Doctor's era, Adric proved to be one of the most unpopular companions in series
history, no
small feat
given the number of companions that had preceded him. Nevertheless, the actor
who played him, Matthew
Waterhouse, did not endear himself to fellow cast mates or production staff
alike.
As an actor
with very little experience, Waterhouse was not skilled enough in his craft to
convincingly
give life to the character. To be fair, Adric was beset with annoying
personality
traits, a
fault to which blame lay with the various writers, including the character's
creator Andrew
Smith,
himself a nineteen year old fan of 'Doctor Who' who had somehow managed to
convince producer John
Nathan-Turner to green-light his one and only contribution to the series with
'Full Circle'.
Due to the
stunted character development, coupled with Waterhouse's limited acting range,
and
ultimately
affected by the actor's often acrimonious relationship with Peter Davison,
Janet Fielding,
and Sarah
Sutton, the character of Adric quickly raised the ire of fandom. So much so
that, unlike
Katarina's
death, which was a production-team decision handled 'in-house' and not with an
eye to
pleasing
and/or shocking the audience, the death of Adric was the complete opposite; it
was planned
and executed
by individuals who expressed pleasure that Waterhouse would be removed from
'Doctor
Who', and it
was actually celebrated by fans who had gained advance knowledge and literally
held
'Adric's
death' parties on the night the episode in which the character dies,
'Earthshock', was
transmitted.
The one and
only champion of Adric was John Nathan-Turner, the producer. As was the case
with the
vast
majority of the creative decisions made during this time, JN-T was the man to
which 'the buck
stops here';
he pulled the trigger on every detail that needed attending to when it came to
'Doctor
Who', from
set design to directors, casting to costumes. As the first producer to not only
bend the
collective
ears of Whovians in order to seek out their opinions on the series, but to
actually
institute
changes in order to appease them, JN-T had heard rumblings of discontent
regarding Adric
from day one
of the character's introduction. For whatever reason, whether feeling proprietorial
regarding
the character given that he had approved 'Full Circle' and had a major role in
casting
Waterhouse,
or else as he was loath to be forced to 'start from scratch' with yet another
male
companion
character, JN-T had held out hope that Adric would somehow become a fan favourite
given enough time.
It was not
to be, and along with pre-planning for stories to celebrate the twentieth
anniversary,
JN-T began
to consider the landscape of 'Doctor Who' during its eighteenth and nineteenth
seasons.
The great
experiment of returning the series to a three-companion format, as it had been
in William
Hartnell's
first season, was beginning to wear on JN-T and script editor Eric Saward.
Saward had
convinced
JN-T that more companions meant 'farming out lines' to more people, it meant
creating more on-going
sub-plots within each episode, and it meant less screen time went to Peter
Davison, the Doctor that
JN-T had himself casted. Aware of the need to 'pair down' the companions,
coupled with the savings
to the show in real money by removing one of its cast members, and with a strange
compulsion
to appease fandom, JN-T relented on whether to keep Adric. He would slowly
phase out the other two
companions and, over time and with the Colin Baker era, return to the 'one
Doctor, one
companion'
format that had worked so well with Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker. But, ever the
showman, he decided, if
Adric was to leave, then he would leave in spectacular, memorable fashion.
Several
stories were placed in consideration for the event, but it was Eric Saward's
own 'Sentinel'
that won
out. Re-named 'Earthshock', and featuring the return of the Cybermen in newly
redesigned-
for-the-1980's
costumes, JN-T went to great lengths to ensure maximum shock value. He ordered
the
gallery that
overlooked the studio closed for the duration of filming. He turned down
numerous fan
magazine
interview requests during the making of the episode, and even went so far as to
turn down
the cover of
'Radio Times', the BBC's listing magazine carried throughout England. Ostensibly,
these
measures were put in place in order to preserve the shock value of a Cybermen
appearance, as
they had not
been seen in 'Doctor Who' at that point in seven long years. But equally as
shocking to
JN-T's mind was
that the Cybermen would draw first blood on the Fifth Doctor, and kill his
companion.
And it all
would have worked, too...if not for those darn BBC pages, young volunteers who
worked for the
Corporation itself in clerical work, who had access to copies of the script and
accompanying
inter-office
memos, and leaked word of the pending death of Adric. Whovians rejoiced.
Regardless
of this, Adric's death did indeed come as a huge shock to millions of casual
viewers.
Given that
there is virtually no indication within the story itself that he is to be
killed, and in hindsight there
appears to be a ratcheting-up of the annoying, nasal tone and the whining that
typified the character
every moment he is on screen, the event caught many off-guard. Beyond the fact
that he dies somewhat of
a hero, preventing a giant ship from crash landing into Earth during a
populated era in the future
and instead causing it to plunge back through time in order to facilitate the
'Doctor Who'
explanation
for the extinction of the dinosaurs, Adric is not particularly interesting as a
character
even up to
the last.
In fact, his motivation to save the entire
planet and a peace conference being held there seems less to do with making
the ultimate sacrifice in order to save the day than it does with a childish
need to be 'proven right' about a
mathematical calculation regarding trajectory. Regardless of the sloppy writing
that went into the character's
final scenes and the equally sloppy acting on display during it, the death of
Adric caused thousands of
letters of protest from parents of small children who claimed it adversely
affected their children, once again
illustrating the dangers of severing the connection to the fans when the
decision to kill a companion is made.
Conversely,
and perhaps cynically, at least several hundred letters of gratitude over the
decision
were also
collected, as older fans proclaimed it was 'the best decision' that JN-T had
ever made as
producer up
to that point! JN-T had once again turned a negative into a positive, and in
this case,
the
rumblings of discontent from his actors and actresses, not to mention Whovians
in general, had
tipped his
hand when it came to doing what should be considered distasteful and
counter-productive,
actually
killing off a companion rather than simply having them written out. JN-T had
swung for the
fences, and
connected with a home run.
The third
death of a companion combined elements of Katarina 'and' Adric, insomuch as it
involved
quickly
sweeping a character under the carpet for the good of the series, and JN-T
capitulating to
outside
pressure and agreeing it was a necessity. Still seeking to eventually pair down
the companion
count to
one, JN-T in his capacity as producer of a fantasy action adventure series was
constantly
being
pitched on everything from product placements to convention appearance dates to
specially built props.
One day, he
was approached by a man who up-sold him what JNT-T then convinced himself could
be
the ultimate
companion; a mostly immobile, mannequin-sized prop figure that came to be named
Kamelion. It
was built outside the purview of 'Doctor Who' by an amateur prop builder who
dreamed up unique props
and then sold them to television and film projects. In Kamelion's case, it was
built to
be able to
mimic human voice, and could be programmed to do so..at a rate of a line at a
time,
allowing
it's basic on-board processor time to operate the figure's 'lips' and form the
words
convincingly
for later playback.
Aside from
this, it had basic motor skills, could slowly raise its arms and tilt it's
head.
Mostly,
though, it was best suited to being propped against a wall, or sat in a chair,
and just...do nothing. Yet, this expensive,
bulky, useless excuse for a paper weight somehow captured JN-T's heart, and he
temporarily abandoned his desire to pare down the companions in order to
introduce Kamelion into the series, feeling that
eventually it would be the only companion the Doctor would have and, perhaps,
the only one he would ever need.
The best laid plans of mice, men, and 'Doctor Who' producers often go awry..
The dull and
lifeless Kamelion, voiced by actor Gerald Flood, made it's 'debut' in the dull
and
lifeless
episode 'The King's Demons', in which it had a major part. A convoluted scheme
of the Master saw
Kamelion, which the Master picked up on the planet Xeraphin, the central figure
in a plot to undermine
democracy itself. Kamelion's hologram generating power gave the Master the
ability to
impersonate
King John, the monarch who signed the Magna Carta agreement that limited
sovereign power in England
and heralded the birth of self-government and the rise of elected governments.
Other than an ill-advised
return to an historical type-story that 'Doctor Who' had done much better
decades beforehand,
'The King's Demons' puts JN-T's folly out there for all to see, in all its
limited
glory.
Having
apparently not learned his lesson with K-9, that immobile props do not make
good companions, JN-T quickly
came to regret his decision. Like a car owner sold a lemon by a fast-talking
used car salesman,
JN-T finally checked under the hood and realized his mistake. Kamelion could
not move properly,
meaning all camera shots taken of it needed to be static shocks. Kamelion could
not express any
discernible range of moods, as it's face was permanently etched in a blank,
stoic stare. Kamelion required
weeks of programming in order to maintain a ten second conversation with an
actor. Worse, Kamelion's
creator, the one person who could actually be relied on to fix the bugs and
assist the production
team with the numerous problems they faced with the thing, died in a boating
accident shortly
after Kamelion was introduced into the series...and he didn't write an
instruction manual to consult. In
short, Kamelion had to go.
This one is
all on JN-T. No Whovians were lobbying for another computerized character after
K-9.
After K-9,
no production staff wanted to deal with the daily headaches such a character
could cause.
The fact
that K-9, which had itself cost thousands of dollars to build, modify, and
utilize, could
run circles
around Kamelion yet JN-T himself had dictated it be written out of the series
regardless
of the time
and money spent on it, was a 'my bad' moment for JN-T. Rather than subject
himself to
fresh rounds
of 'why are we bothering'-type memos from staff, JN-T simply opted to write
Kamelion out as soon as a
story had a few spare minutes somewhere in it to do so.
Rather than
place references to its abrupt disappearance from the TARDIS crew it just
joined in the
following
stories, as JN-T had done with K-9 given that character's continuing in the
series was a
late
decision which forced the inclusion of cover stories in episodes in which it
was not originally
meant to
appear, it would not be until 'Planet Of Fire', another dud of a story, that
Kamelion is
'killed'. A
wishy-washy, easily manipulated being to begin with, Kamelion once again comes
under the Master's
influence, and actually begs the Doctor to put it, and the viewers, out of
their misery and
kill it.
Despite the Doctor's reverence for life in all its forms, he acts completely
out
of character
and kills it using the Master's TCE weapon. Even given the chance to provide
the
viewers with
something akin to a companion's heroic death scene, JN-T clumsily bungles it,
and instead violates the
internal continuity of the Doctor character simply to wipe Kamelion clean from
the Whoniverse.
Kamelion is
the final companion to have been killed within the confines of the original
series,
though he is
not the last companion to die. In addition K-9 Mark Three killed within the new
series,
in the
episode 'School Reunion', heroically sacrificing itself to save the Doctor and
it's other
friends from
the Krillitane, there is, of course, Amy and Rory Williams in 'The Angels Take
Manhattan'.
As odd and disconcerting a prospect it is to actively seek the death of a
companion
character
for publicity and storyline reasons, the fact that it has been done so rarely,
as detailed
here, is a
testament to the power of restraint. The chosen companions detailed in this
blog that have
been killed
have all left their mark, large or small, on the Whoniverse in general, and
serve to
remind fans
that, for all the light-hearted space romping that is often on display, there
is a dark
underbelly
of realism in the form of death than can creep in. To quote the Doctor, 'Some
left me.
Some got
left behind. And some... not many, but... some died.'
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