The first Doctor Who episode I watched was “Rose,” the first appearance of the Ninth Doctor and companion Rose Tyler. My husband had seen a few episodes and thought it would be a fun show to watch together, and I finally agreed to give it a try. With low production values and a gymnastics move that saves the day, I was underwhelmed. It confirmed every stereotype I had of sci-fi, and I insisted that I didn’t want to waste my time on a show that was silly and cheesy and didn’t connect with real people.My husband insisted it got really good, and suggested we watch a couple of later episodes so I could see Doctor Who wasn’t just about cheesy robots and silly aliens.We watched two episodes: “Blink” and “Midnight.”
It’s a great article and worth reading in full, which I only partially say because I happen to be the husband in question. And, no, I have yet to let her live it down.
As a lover of pretty much all things genre-fiction, I fully admit and accept that such labels can become closed doors for people, who use them as an excuse to dismiss stuff that they think they won’t like. And, sure, to each his/her own. That’s why I firmly believe that labels are a one-way street, and should mostly be used only as superlatives. While talking about the genres we love can be a fun bonding experience, best thing we can do as consumers of media is to stop talking about the genres we hate. Like what you like, and stay open to anything, and you might get surprised.
Of course, that also means accepting it when somebody just doesn’t like a thing that you like. Which is the part that I’m terrible at, as evidenced by the long and drawn-out, albeit ultimately successful, campaign to make Annie like sci-fi. There were a lot of farting aliens and misfires along the way, take it from me. The campaign to get her hooked on The Simpsons has been going on even longer, and continues to this day. If ever there was a time for a Doctor Who Goes to Springfield-style crossover, this would be it.