Why I like the (Second) Doctor
Patrick Troughton and Jon Pertwee bickering is the best thing in all of Doctor Who. The actual best thing. And that's because the Second Doctor is absolutely fantastic. (It's also because the Third Doctor is absolutely fantastic, but I talked about him already).
Every Doctor has his own specific method of conflict resolution. Bluster, karate, taking the moral high ground, obfuscating stupidity, scheming - every one has his own signature. And the Second Doctor's preferred approach is running away. Which, really, is kind of the most sensible option out there. Run away from the monsters, and the people shooting at you, and the deadly foam. Getting mauled by robot yetis or whatever isn't going to help anybody. Other Doctors are cool, and confident, but the Second Doctor is genuinely afraid of the monsters, which makes the monsters that much scarier in and of themselves. On the one hand, if even the Doctor is scared, then things have got to be pretty bad. But on the other hand, if he's scared, it's okay for you to be scared as well. This stuff is terrifying - so there's no shame in being terrified. Also, the Second Doctor typically is not in control of the situation - heck, is practically never in control of the situation - but he makes it work anyway. It's not about beating the odds, it's about overcoming them. Outwitting brute force. Running away...but coming back again to stand and fight.
The Second Doctor is, alongside the Seventh and Eleventh Doctors, one of the Scary Doctors. Because he will eventually stand and fight, and when he does it's absolutely devastating. When he drops the clownish silliness and does what has to be done - and often it's painful and horrible. And it's not that the clownish silliness is a mask - it isn't. It's more that he goofs around and plays and mucks about with his recorder and jumps in the sea and such because he really enjoys it. He loves having fun, and he loves having fun with his companions. Which makes it all the more jarring (and, honestly, chilling) when he is forced by circumstance to be serious. The Second Doctor and Jamie have perhaps the closest relationship in the entire show, and yet he betrays Jamie to the Daleks - and, later, to the War Lords. And he has a really good reason for it (and a way out) both times - the alternative is certain death - but there are still consequences and he accepts them. And he makes the hard calls. Genocide, enacted by children. The destruction of an entire battle fleet. Using himself as bait, when necessary. And that's the operative phrase - when necessary. He knows what he has to do, and he does it, and that can be really really terrifying. And the rest of the time he chooses joy, he chooses play, he chooses to be happy now because we all know he'll be sad later.
The Second Doctor encompasses an almost perfect mix of old and young - deep wisdom coupled with utter childishness. He takes the time to comfort Victoria, and he doesn't do it with platitudes, but with, well, the wisdom of experience. "They sleep in my mind." He's extraordinarily insightful - he speaks truth to power and makes people question their own assumptions, and usually not in particularly confrontational ways. He is the master of teaching gently. And especially coming right off of Hartnell, who was superficially much older (and crotchetier), but still a younger Doctor - Two has a young face with old eyes. And these two sides of him interact really complexly. When he's being goofy, it's hilarious and adorable and endearing - and when he's being serious it's just staggeringly beautiful. He encapsulates the fundamental juxtaposition and thematicity of Doctor Who. He is utterly wonderful.
The most depressing thing about the 50th anniversary is that Patrick Troughton is still dead.
Every Doctor has his own specific method of conflict resolution. Bluster, karate, taking the moral high ground, obfuscating stupidity, scheming - every one has his own signature. And the Second Doctor's preferred approach is running away. Which, really, is kind of the most sensible option out there. Run away from the monsters, and the people shooting at you, and the deadly foam. Getting mauled by robot yetis or whatever isn't going to help anybody. Other Doctors are cool, and confident, but the Second Doctor is genuinely afraid of the monsters, which makes the monsters that much scarier in and of themselves. On the one hand, if even the Doctor is scared, then things have got to be pretty bad. But on the other hand, if he's scared, it's okay for you to be scared as well. This stuff is terrifying - so there's no shame in being terrified. Also, the Second Doctor typically is not in control of the situation - heck, is practically never in control of the situation - but he makes it work anyway. It's not about beating the odds, it's about overcoming them. Outwitting brute force. Running away...but coming back again to stand and fight.
The Second Doctor is, alongside the Seventh and Eleventh Doctors, one of the Scary Doctors. Because he will eventually stand and fight, and when he does it's absolutely devastating. When he drops the clownish silliness and does what has to be done - and often it's painful and horrible. And it's not that the clownish silliness is a mask - it isn't. It's more that he goofs around and plays and mucks about with his recorder and jumps in the sea and such because he really enjoys it. He loves having fun, and he loves having fun with his companions. Which makes it all the more jarring (and, honestly, chilling) when he is forced by circumstance to be serious. The Second Doctor and Jamie have perhaps the closest relationship in the entire show, and yet he betrays Jamie to the Daleks - and, later, to the War Lords. And he has a really good reason for it (and a way out) both times - the alternative is certain death - but there are still consequences and he accepts them. And he makes the hard calls. Genocide, enacted by children. The destruction of an entire battle fleet. Using himself as bait, when necessary. And that's the operative phrase - when necessary. He knows what he has to do, and he does it, and that can be really really terrifying. And the rest of the time he chooses joy, he chooses play, he chooses to be happy now because we all know he'll be sad later.
The Second Doctor encompasses an almost perfect mix of old and young - deep wisdom coupled with utter childishness. He takes the time to comfort Victoria, and he doesn't do it with platitudes, but with, well, the wisdom of experience. "They sleep in my mind." He's extraordinarily insightful - he speaks truth to power and makes people question their own assumptions, and usually not in particularly confrontational ways. He is the master of teaching gently. And especially coming right off of Hartnell, who was superficially much older (and crotchetier), but still a younger Doctor - Two has a young face with old eyes. And these two sides of him interact really complexly. When he's being goofy, it's hilarious and adorable and endearing - and when he's being serious it's just staggeringly beautiful. He encapsulates the fundamental juxtaposition and thematicity of Doctor Who. He is utterly wonderful.
The most depressing thing about the 50th anniversary is that Patrick Troughton is still dead.