Richard Marson

Richard Marson’s JN-T: The Life & Scandalous Times of John Nathan-Turner is an exhaustive history of the Doctor Who producer’s life and legacy. Marson follows JN-T’s life roughly chronologically, though some chapters focus on specific themes in his life and will backtrack or advance accordingly. He bases his account on JN-T’s own memoirs; contemporary published interviews; interviews Marson performed with people who knew JN-T from work at the BBC, from local theatre troupes, from his social life, and from the world of fandom; as well as Marson’s own memories from working with JN-T. The history is very much a warts-and-all portrayal, detailing JN-T’s professional and personal squabbles, how his relationship with Gary Downie often brought out the worst in him – particularly following Gary’s lechery – and JN-T’s excessive drinking, all of which revealed a character deeply seeking the approval of others having never succeeded as an actor himself. While Marson does not shy away from these character failings, his portrait of JN-T is ultimately tragic, of a creative mind desperately trying to make the most of a show that the network was gradually less and less interested in preserving. In the end, the Sisyphean battle to save Doctor Who ultimately cost JN-T his professional career and his health. Marson’s recounting alternates between high spirits and tragedy, resembling the life of the man he chronicles. JN-T: The Life & Scandalous Times of John Nathan-Turner will particularly appeal to Doctor Who fans, though anyone seeking to learn more about the world of British television in the 1980s as the old BBC system changed to include more freelancers will find it of interest.… (més)

http://nwhyte.livejournal.com/2704985.html

On the strength of Marson's biography of John Nathan-Turner, the last producer of Old Who, I bought this, his biography of the show's first producer. I found it a somewhat frustrating read. As an examination of Verity Lambert's career in her own terms, it's compelling and exhaustive - friends, enemies, ex-husband and lovers are all interviewed and provide a three-dimensional perspective of a driven, creative personality. It's a more cheerful book than the Nathan-Turner biography because Lambert's career was far more successful; she died in her 70s, a month before she was due to receive a lifetime achievement award at the Women in Film and Television Awards, and the day before the 44th anniversary of the first episode of Doctor Who.

(Some of her personal effects were auctioned on eBay after her death, and I ended up with her complimentary copy of the 2003 DVD of The Three Doctors. She had not opened it - she says on one of her last DVD commentaries that she found it difficult to watch the deterioration of William Hartnell's health even from her own time as producer, so it's hardly surprising that she gave The Three Doctors a miss.)

I was aware of her early triumph in successfully handling a live broadcast of a play where the actor playing one of the key characters suddenly died in the middle of filming, and of course of her contribution to Doctor Who; I must say I had forgotten about her contributions to so many subsequent successes of television and film - Adam Adamant Lives!, Shoulder to Shoulder, Rumpole of the Bailey, Clockwise, A Cry in the Dark, G.B.H., Sleepers and Jonathan Creek.

The big flop was Eldorado, which I actually rather liked in the day; Marson's analysis of what went wrong is interesting but doesn't quite land its punches. For me, the two obvious mistakes were the initial casting of so many weak actors (which would appear to have been entirely Julia Smith's fault rather than Lambert's) and the over-ambitious timescale which led to early episodes being filmed on a set that was still being built (definitely Lambert's fault rather than anyone else's). It would have been interesting to see if a connecting line could be drawn between the Eldorado fiasco and Lambert's other big professional setbacks - the court case on intellectual property theft for the concept behind Rock Follies, which she lost, and her feuds with Irene Shubik and a few others.

There were three other areas which I wish Marson had stepped back to explore in more depth. The first is the overall cultural role of film and television in itself. We rather get the impression that Lambert's work was important because she did it, rather than looking at the wider social import. There is loads of research available on this, much of it citing Lambert, and it's a shame that none of it is used here. The second is feminism - the extract I give above illustrates the difficulties that she faced in her early years because of her gender, but it's irritating that this pops up over and over as incidental detail rather than as a unifying theme. The third is Jewishness (if that's the right word). Lambert was strongly identified as a Jew, whether she wanted to be or not, and she varied on that at different times in her career. But it would have been nice to read a bit more background about how Jews fitted into British society in general in Lambert's lifetime, and into the entertainment industry in particular.

Having said that, it's still a better book than the John Nathan-Turner biography because it has a more interesting subject, and perhaps has learned a little from the previous one.… (més)

Hmm. This is a book, realistically, I have to say I did not enjoy. I respect it, however, just because of the sheer depth of research Richard Marson has done, finding dozens of friends and colleagues to interview, and because I did finish the book with the sense of an improved understanding of John Turner the man, which is what I went in wanting.

While I can't say anything I learned is overly surprising - more than 20 years in fandom has left me with a general sense of Turner that appears accurate - Marson's book goes some way to changing him from a series of personality quirks and into a human being. I say "some way" because the job isn't really complete. With few frank letters or interviews from Turner himself, nor his life-long partner Gary Downie, there's a certain arm's-distance-ness that still applies even with so many participants. So I'm left to wonder: is this rather sad book accurately depicting a somewhat sad, unfulfilled life, or is some of that simply down to the way it is portrayed?

A major problem, I think, is to be found in Marson's writing style. Roughly the first half of the book - Turner's youth, early career, and ascendancy as the producer of "Doctor Who" - is written in a very awkward manner, with Marson layering quotes on top of each other, one after another, sometimes for page after page. Having been trained in both journalistic and scholarly writing, I can only say this violates most of the fundamental rules I was taught: you don't leave quotes out there to flail on their own. You comment on them and even paraphrase or summarize them to bring cohesion to your writing. Marson seems to have a problem doing that, and some of the points his quotes make seem labored or even unnecessary as a result. For the first 150 pages, I found myself wishing desperately for a trained editor.

Then, with the sudden arrival of the infamous "Hanky Panky" chapter, the style changes. Suddenly, perhaps because he actually has a goal he's writing toward, Marson's biographical abilities take a huge step up. That becomes a trend for the rest of the book: when there's a specific event or process to discuss (the 1985 cancellation and revivification, the stress behind Trial season, the final cancellation in 1989, JN-T's last year in Spain), Marson the biographer simply assumes a greater command of his text. However, it can't be denied that most of the relevant material is pretty depressing. I can't decide, then, whether Turner's life itself is one of sadness or whether the biographer can really only pull out and emphasize those events beyond the others. One way or another, it feels a little skewed. (And yes, Marson's casual interjections about his own career are infrequent enough to seem out of place *whenever* they occur in the book.)

Was it worth the read? Yes, although my opinion of JN-T hasn't changed much. I am a little blown away by the extent to which the BBC overlooked sexual misconduct, though in these post-Jimmy Savile days, even that's less shocking than it would have been five years ago. This isn't a book that leaves one with a very pleasant frame of mind, but it does help to bring some humanity to an oft-parodied figure in a notoriously catty cult fandom. For that alone, perhaps, the book is worthwhile.… (més)