I think I’ve just about had it with the prettification of the adult male. Decades of Dr. Who have given us a wide variety of doctors, from the old and cranky to the youthful and dorky. Never have we been handed an out-and-out pretty boy. I would love to have been at the meetings where someone decided — yet again — that to improve ratings, you must make your star a) young and b) easy on the eyes. I suppose that gets girls and gay boys gushing in their panties, but it doesn’t demonstrate any creativity.
New Dr. Whos are a regular part of the mythology, but never have I responded with such eye-rolling disinterest as when I saw this photo of Matt Smith. Wait until you see the new companion. Physically, she’s pretty. You know, pretty like any chick you’ve seen ten thousand times in a middle-of-the-road high-school drama.
One of these days, somebody is going to realize that crows’ feet and a slightly crooked smile are far more interesting than milky skin and bleach-white teeth. When are we going to see an Indian Dr. Who, for fuck’s sake? Somebody as ugly, but as unique and fascinating as, say, B.K.S. Iyengar?