Doctor Who went into 1978 with its legs chopped off at the knees.
At the end of its 14th year the show had suffered the crippling loss of Philip Hinchcliffe as one of its most pioneering producers, and after the dishonourable discharge of his good friend and fellow innovator, veteran writer Robert Holmes had decided to abandon his mainstay role and return to write for the series only on a few other occasions; director Paddy Russell (of 'Pyramids of Mars' and 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' fame), too, felt it was time to move on. Season 15 saw an exodus of talent from Doctor Who.
Stepping in to staunch the bleeding was newcomer Graham Williams, pressured and pushed by budget cuts and armed only with his uncontrollable main star and a stern brief of making the show less violent, better to keep in with a younger and more sensitive audience. This came at the behest of BBC bigwigs, and this at the behest of a whiskered tartan crone called Mrs Mary Whitehouse. Mrs Whitehouse had been appalled at the dark and more mature nature of the previous two season's work, and, batting away with her claws the wild popularity of the Hinchcliffe/Holmes era with fans, had taken it upon herself to end the bloodshed once and for all. Horror was out, humour was in. There was to be a lighter tone to the series. And so the best years the program had enjoyed in its history were ended, and some of the worst found themselves roughly dispatched from Whitehouse's leathery womb onto screens up and down the country. There were gems amid the squalid slag - 'The Sun Makers', 'City of Death' and a couple of the later Baker stories serve to provide relief. But from here on in until a little way into the Davison era, the show took a general turn for the worse. This is what we know and regret.
'Horror of Fang Rock' is the first step into the infamous Williams era, but in every way is just the opposite of what you'd expect given that description. This is a really fast-paced dark story, filled with the tropes of the previous three seasons and populated with totally Hinchcliffe/Holmes characters and villains. More than anything, this feels like Doctor Who biting back at its captors, scratching at the bars of the safe, family-friendly cage Whitehouse's incessant cawing had had it cast into. It's pure gothic horror, the same we watched and loved in 'The Brain of Morbius', 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang', 'The Robots of Death'. It's a raven desperately delaying its transformation into a pigeon. And it delays it just long enough.
Hinchcliffe had gone. Holmes and Russell were packing their bags, but not before they'd given us one last taste of what made us so love 'Pyramids of Mars', 'The Ark in Space' and 'Terror of the Zygons'. 'Horror of Fang Rock' is an echoing swansong to the finest years of Doctor Who, and it serves to show us still just what made those years so fine. Let's do a commentary.
Have you ever heard someone say 'Up yours, Mrs Whitehouse'? I have. I've actually said it, too. But I could never say it louder than Robert Holmes does in this story. Everything about it really goes against all of the guidelines that were advised for the Williams era, in the best and most memorable way. 'Horror of Fang Rock' is bulging with a tastiness and pure scary adventurousness that just shines through the frayed holes in the sack that Whitehouse was trying to pull it and its kin away in, ideas and expertise that are lavished over every aspect of the production. To start, the sets are gorgeous. There's real research gone into the design and every prop just looks so authentic. The costumes are wonderfully period (this is set in the very earliest days of the twentieth century), the lighthouse crew-room is realistically, cosily furnished, the lamp at the top could have fooled me. The boiler room looks like a boiler room. It's all just right.
And the outdoor sets too are delightfully atmospheric and dark. You can't even tell it's a BBC studio, which is refreshing - as the Williams era progresses, there's a tangible and gradual loss of effort that seems to be put into each story's design aesthetic (see 'The Sun Makers', 'The Pirate Planet' and 'Nightmare of Eden' as examples for this - 'City of Death', 'State of Decay' and 'The Keeper of Traken' as examples against). Is that unfair? Maybe it's unfair. But here it's all fresh and it fits together, helped enormously in the 'outdoor' shots by the lighting and by Russell's inimitable know-how as director.
Another element of this story that really helps it win a viewer over is the strength of the guest cast, who are lovely. There are very well developed characters here; among the lighthouse crew we can find Vince, who is young and impressionable, and Ben, who isn't and has probably the least fun here (but he has a moustache, so.. moustache), and, too, the gruff and wise Reuben, later Rutan. Off the yacht crash the lighthouse is burdened with Lord Palmerdale's arrogant, childish aristocrat, with Adelaide's scathing feminine Edwardian uselessness (she really does nothing. She gets hit in the face by Leela, and you can see that it's actually really hard and all the other actors are trying to keep it together, and it's hilarious), and with Skinsale's cynical and good-hearted but ultimately flawed old army dog. Everybody really puts in a lot, and it pays off heartily, frothing the coffee of period horror-drama. It's incredibly entertaining (Leela really does hit Adelaide in the face, really hard) (it's really, really funny), and matches and even supersedes some of what we've seen come out of Hinchcliffe and Holmes in the last three years. The model work is fantastic. Our actors are giving their all. People are dying left right and centre. Good gravy.
Speaking of actors, I should talk about our two main characters here. Tom Baker is giving it some as the Doctor, conveying a healthy sense of menace about his person in all situations which merit it, which is many. His sudden horror at noticing having locked the unknown entity in the lighthouse with them is perfectly pitched for a cliffhanger, and his relationship with Leela isn't yet at the point where he seems to disregard or devalue her. This is the Baker we see poised on the summit of his popularity, likely at any moment to stop caring about his post and come tumbling down a long, pebbly slope, at the bottom of which he'll find himself just not caring anymore and playing, more than anyone, Tom Baker. There will be stories where we will find our Doctor again - 'City of Death' or 'State of Decay' (to and extent) - but for the most part under Williams and later under Jonathan Nathan-Turner Tom Baker's lead just stretches too far, and he is allowed to go sniffing for rabbits too often. Which is sad. But we aren't there yet, and this is maybe the last stop on the bus before we reach those wastelands. He still has the magic for which we all fell in love with him. But it's slipping.
Louise Jameson, meanwhile, is still Leela and is very good at being Leela. Her reaction to and interplay with the Rutan is specifically tuned to her own developing character, and it's in stories like these that it's nice to see Holmes and the team still trying to work on Leela as Leela, as opposed to Leela as a generic companion to be used as a plot device in place of an interesting character. She's funny too - 'I am no lady, Vince!' she professes to the young lighthouse keeper, absently removing her Victorian-style outer layers to change into more comfy clothes. Okay Leela. That's nice. Also she full-on slaps Adelaide in the face for screaming. Still amazing.
I suppose I should talk about the Rutan, because it's the eponymous Horror of Fang Rock, and the Holmesian villain of the tale. But honestly, as good as the story is and as well as it serves all its component parts, there isn't a whole lot to say. It's the only time we ever see a Rutan in the series, although they're mentioned a lot in discussion with the bald-headed tongue-sliding Sontarans, and while its shapeshifting abilities are gruesomely and chillingly realised throughout the story's four parts (and Reuben the Rutan really is chilling), the shapeshifting cow has been milked before and probably with greater impact. People remember the Zygons, not the Rutans. But it's a nice cameo from a monster with good foundations in Who lore, and though it might appear vaguely underwhelming and greeney testicley, it does its job fine for me.
The plot itself, too, isn't remarkable. A lone alien crashes in the sea, purloins a keeper from the nearby island lighthouse to show the sharp end of its scalpel, gets into the groove and takes a holiday as a human for a night before being blown up along with its summoned mothership. It's nothing truly original or captivating, but the way the rest of the production is able to prop the premise up with character work, subplots and mystery assures that the story is allowed to take its time to develop and to let us get into the heads of everyone trapped in the lighthouse. And it allows for a really spellbinding, high-octane finale, too, which in classic Who is always a treat.
Last Words?
This, really, is a sad story. It's the story of the end of an era, of one of the best eras. It's a final testament to the success of Hinchcliffe/Holmes, lifted to the heights by Paddy Russell's exquisite direction and the stellar performances of the guest cast. It's one of the last bursts of pure quality Doctor Who would see for a long time, which isn't too harsh a criticism - there are good stories under Williams too, but it's hard not to notice a decisive loss of energy after, say, 'The Invasion of Time'. For now, however, we can still have this - a wonderful, hundred minute attack from the team that had made its mark on the show forever, a final, lengthy banquet of all the best parts of an era that inspired a generation of writers and directors and fans. It's fun, fast, clever, dark, and the last word scrawled along a middle finger in the face of an ageing harpy who would have had the creativity and class drowned in the fear of overstepping the mark for the rest of an age. Because until a new Doctor appeared on our screens, it would never get quite this good again.
(As an afterword, I hope everybody enjoys Peter Capaldi's debut story 'Deep Breath' a week today - new Who is never not going to be exciting)
