The Character Clause

 

A fine character actor named Bernard Cribbins has died.

It's quite possible you have seen his work though admittedly his work was almost entirely in England and I don't know how much "telly" or film he did in the US.

Still, to many (me), he will be known as Wilfred Mott, the grandfather of Donna Noble on "Doctor Who." He wound up as a brief companion to David Tennant's tenth doctor. He also served as a companion as a separate character to Peter Cushing, who played The Doctor (billed as "Doctor Who") in the 1966 film "Daleks' Invasion Earth 2150 A.D. "

It was a sad day for Whovians, such as Sean who was pretty bummed when I told him the news.

Cribbins was 93.

But it got me thinking about characters. What makes us latch onto them? I'm sure there are deep thoughts about familiarity and comfort and we allow ourselves to feel like we know them but, honestly, they're individuals on our screen.

Sometimes we see ourselves or people we know in these characters.

Now, I realize there are levels to this. There are people who feel literally nothing and there are others who fully invest and, as such, are crestfallen when they're gone.

For me, I immediately think of the gut-wrenching departure of McLean Stevenson, who played Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake on "M*A*S*H." Not only are there the initial comedic hijinks leading up to his farewell when the character is saluted by  "Radar" O'Reilly, but then there is...

(For the love of "Hot Lips" Houlihan do I really need to say SPOILER ALERT here?)

So, after Blake flies away on a chopper, O'Reilly receives news that Blake was killed in a plane crash. It's a tour de force of television -- one of the most famous scenes in history -- but it also takes me back to the original point: why do we invest to where we become emotional?

With the passing of Cribbins today, I went down the rabbit hole of the last time Wilfred sees The Doctor. His granddaughter Donna has just gotten married and everyone is outside of the church. Donna, who no longer remembers The Doctor, is impervious in the moment.

But Wilfred is very much impacted by the site of his friend. The Doctor, in fact, goes around to see his companions one last time. The site of Sarah Jane Smith, always near the top of the list of most popular companions, is cause for tissues.

But the site of Mott saluting The Doctor and crying leaves the toughest soul beaten.

Again, why?

Of course, it has to be the investment of emotion in general. As a viewer, some of us allow ourselves to immersed in the story. We suspend things and get taken away.

From there, I really went deep, watching a half hour's worth of every regeneration in the history of "Doctor Who" and, again, there is a lot of emotional stuff in there. The toughest for me, personally, is the regeneration of the eleventh doctor (Matt Smith) to the twelfth (Peter Capaldi) in which all of the feels come out.

The site of his friend and companion Amy Pond is a wrecking moment. His final monologue, as well as that of Capaldi's a few years later, is incredibly poignant.

"I will not forget one line of this," The Doctor (Smith) says. "Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me."

And I currently have a lump in my throat.

So whether it's Michael Scott on "The Office" or one of the myriad other character departures that I just read about tonight, it makes me think about why we invest in these people when, so often, the actors are nothing like the characters.

But we adore and respond to their characters.

Scott's departure from Dunder Mifflin is a mixed bag of comedy and emotion, perfect for a lighthearted "mockumentary" like "The Office."

Yet (SPOILER) when Scott returns in the series finale, it presses every button.

That's what she said, of course.

It strikes me that perhaps the only characters one never really "felt" anything for were the main four on "Seinfield." While funny, they weren't necessarily likable so we didn't quite reach for the Kleenex when the show ended.

Now consider the gruesome death of Adriana La Cerva on "The Sopranos." Was there an attachment to her? Or is it the pure awfulness of her demise that left us so speechless? Or both?

I also wonder how people can't feel anything. For me, there's an investment in who and what is on my screen, be it fictional characters or Brian Piccolo in "Brian's Song" ("I love Brian Piccolo. And I'd like all of you to love him too. And tonight, you hit your knees, please ask God to love him.").

Or Vin Scully's last game broadcast. Let's not go there.

So I'm sure that it comes down to emotional ties and the willingness to embrace that. 

At least that's what I think it is.