Looking Back: The Rescue

'One day, I shall come back; yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no tears, no regrets, no anxieties - just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine.'

These words are, without doubt, the most memorable of the whole of classic Doctor Who. Any fan of the show is likely to have heard them, marvelled at their beauty, watched with tears in their eyes as William Hartnell's First Doctor closes the TARDIS doors on his beloved granddaughter for the final time. It's a gut-wrenching scene, at the tail end of an endlessly impressive story, exploring new shades of the best character ever to come out of television.

It's also very, very problematic.

Or at least, it was at the time. You see, now that Susan (O guide of the casual audience, o Queen of first-episode jeopardy, o teenage interface, o exposition hydrant) was out of the picture (having fallen in love with, courted with and finally become engaged to a man she had known for what can be playfully interpreted as a mere two and a half hours), the TARDIS 'family' needed a new bright young thing to zhoozh up dull plots and get into trouble. It wouldn't do to have Barbara falling into all the pits, or indeed being pointed at by all the menacing kitchen appliances on her own, and certainly Ian wasn't going anywhere near any dangerous situation until it was certain that there might be some sort of manly death match at the end of it. The Doctor, too, had his own role, preferring to make noises at landscapes or chuckle about technology until he was really needed. So the production team went on the lookout for a replacement; a replacement we find here, in The Rescue, in the form of Vicki.

As I mentioned when I discussed The Sontaran Experiment back in 2013, two-part stories are something of a rarity in the classic series. Not only are they few and far between (with only seven in the twenty-six years of Doctor Who's original run) but they are also, generally, not very good. You might take against my saying this, but let me reword 'not very good' to 'not very memorable'. They just sort of happen. You might take Black Orchid as evidence for this, or maybe The Awakening - both interesting plots, but neither engaging enough to appeal to a wider audience, like the writers didn't know how to deal with the shrivelled beast they had been assigned paternity over. There are more and less successful examples - The Sontaran Experiment is entertaining enough, and I really do quite like Davison's The King's Demons - but at both of those stories we can still wave the 'insignificant' flag, because they are; just fun sideshows to prep for the next bout of drama and darkness (The Sontaran Experiment being followed by the monolithic Genesis of the Daleks, Black Orchid being followed by Adric's death in Earthshock, The Awakening being followed by all sorts of clumsy gloom in Peter Davison's final season). So what's a real treat for me about this story is that it manages to pull off something of a miracle; it exists at once as a fun sideshow and as a really pivotal story. Want to find out how? Then read on...

Coming into The Rescue, it strikes one that writer David Whitaker (later of critical acclaim with Power and Evil of the Daleks) can really nail characterisation. Vicki and Bennett are presented totally defined from very early on, the former being painted as a naive and optimistic child, and the latter as a gruff, tough survivor. The great thing about Whitaker, though, is the way he's able to blend this characterisation with exposition; Vicki says there's a rescue ship coming, Bennett thinks not, their ship's been crashed a long time, Bennett warns of Koquillion, an unknown menace, and all before you notice that it's happening. It's all played well, too - Maureen O'Brien shines as Vicki from the off, and delivers on the unspoken promise of not only replacement, but betterment as companion. I've always preferred Vicki to Susan, and I think that's just because she's more interesting to me; Susan is always stuck in the mold of being 'the granddaughter', whereas Vicki can be whoever and do whatever she wants. She also comes from a whole other era and culture to our own and to the Doctor's, giving her (interestingly) a solid grounding in a totally fictional reality. Plus her father's dead. So that's... new.

Talking about relationships (and, specifically, of Susan) it's really fascinating and sort of tragic to see the Doctor still dealing with her departure from the end of the previous story. He's changed from the rough-tongued old man of science we have known previously; he talks more to himself here than to his companions, reminiscing in a melancholic way. He stays in the TARDIS while the others investigate, having already fallen asleep at the wheel. Here, it is Barbara and Ian who voice the viewer's own concerns for the Doctor's welfare, acting as narrators-by-proxy to his behaviour; their separation from him also allows both to get into a bit of trouble with Koquillion, which moves the plot along nicely.

But the star of this episode, and indeed of the story, is Hartnell himself. He carries his scenes with such a likeable wit but also plays heavily on the character's emotional state, calling for Susan to open the doors before remembering her absence. However much he shrugs off the pain, you can see that he's finding it difficult to go on with such a vital part of him missing, and when Barbara offers to open the doors instead, it ages him for the audience - almost like she's offering to help him with some heavy shopping. It seems the loss of Susan, somebody who was so close, really has had an impact on our Doctor.

But the storyline can't sit around and wait for a Time Lord to get over his troubles; soon Barbara has been pushed off a precipice and Ian has been trapped in a cave, both by Koquillion, a native menace we've come to fear from Vicki and Bennett. Now I'm of mixed opinions about Koquillion as we originally meet him; the design of the mask is certainly new, and more than a little bit off-putting, and he seems particularly malevolent, but the reedy RP vocals make it difficult for me to bear watching sometimes. He's definitely a bastard though; from his mistreating of Vicki to his attack on Barbara to his meddling in the affairs of the Doctor and Ian, you really get the feeling that Koquillion is the villain of the piece (and, to an extent, he is - more on this later).

The Doctor and Ian's share of the story, meanwhile, has the chance to explore (but not to occupy and urbanise) the previously mentioned 'fun sideshow' territory, which Whitaker takes to with glee. Not only do we have a rocky ledge, there's also extending spikes, booby-traps, mysterious doors and a mer-Clanger! Yes! Mer-Clanger!

Honestly though, this story is such a wonderful mix of everything Doctor Who needs to be; where we meet pulpy action and peril there is always an equal measure of clever narrative trickery and heartwarming dialogue waiting just around the corner. Barbara might kill Sandy the Sand Monster with a flare gun, but no sooner has the smoke cleared than Vicki is berating her for murdering her pet; nothing is as expected in this world, and nothing is less expected than the outstanding plot twist we finally get at the end of part two - for those who haven't watched, watch now and then return - a plot twist which gives The Rescue a leg up to the heights, which genuinely takes one by surprise.

Bennett, the crippled survivor of Vicki's space crash, is Koquillion. It's a mask. It's a cover story. And with a happy sigh, all is redeemed; so what if the Koquillion costume wasn't great - it's a carnival outfit! So what if Koquillion should have killed Bennett and Vicki already - he was Bennett! Murderous, genocidal, sadistic Bennett, who tormented a young girl and slaughtered a species to cover up his own horrific crimes. In terms of subversions of expectation, it doesn't come much better than this.

Except Vicki didn't notice that it was a carnival mask for like, what, however long the ship's been crashed. But let's not dwell.

Let me wind back to Hartnell quickly, and then fast-forward again. I love him in this. I think it's one of his very best stories, and surely one of his best performances on the show. There's just something there that we haven't seen before, save for in uncharacteristic bouts. It's a magic kind of warmth. He's got that Hartnell glint in his eye. The way he waves away Barbara and Ian to speak with Vicki alone, smiling with such reassurance, comforting her, yes, but also really making a friend in her. Or rather, making a friend in him in her. The way he stands with her at the end and gives her the space to decide whether or not she wants to come with them, because he has so much affection for her, and why not? She's come to him when he needed her most, just when he's been left on his own - Vicki is his salvation, and he revels in it.

And so this talk of salvation brings me back to the future (I've been writing at 88 miles per hour) and the climax, because it is not until here, at the end of the adventure, that we finally witness Hartnell's (and indeed the Doctor's) ultimate transformation - the exact moment where he transcends the confines of being a mere protagonist and becomes, for the next forty-eight years and (we hope) for forty-eight years more, a hero.

I probably sound very sentimental, and I am, but I think that this episode is worthy of the praise. It's just something new in the Doctor's manner when he faces down Koquillion/Bennett in the temple - a new confidence and sense of good and right. It is here again that Whitaker shines as a writer; 'This used to be the peoples' hall of justice - rather fitting, in the circumstances, I think. Don't you?' That's a line that Matt Smith could have said in 2010, that Peter Capaldi wouldn't sound odd purring at Missy or the Daleks - any Doctor could have said those words. Any of them. And that's why Whitaker's writing here is so quintessentially Doctor Who: he's shaping the character that will run underneath the performance of every actor to come, like a subterranean current of good. He's moulding the Doctor into what he knows he should be. Later he will mould the Daleks into what he knows they should be. And every damn time he gets it exactly spot on. So thank you Mr Whitaker; a true and oft unsung hero yourself.

Last Words?

This must be one of my very favourite Hartnell stories, and to justify that I could bring up just about any aspect of it.

I could talk about the performances of Maureen O'Brien and Ray Barrett. I could talk about Barbara elbowing Ian in the ribs when Vicki calls her old. I could talk about the Doctor's sadness, and his ultimate metamorphosis into the character we know today. I could talk about the set of the temple at the end, about the shock reveal of the natives (who are apparently going to have a crack at repopulating Dido without women), about the all-guns-blazing finale. I could talk about Hartnell for hours.

But instead, I'm going to leave you with another extract of dialogue, this time from near the very end of this story, with which David Whitaker sums up both the Doctor, the companion, the quality of the episode and the show in its entirety. So here's that, and see you next time.

'We can travel anywhere and everywhere in that old box, as you call it. Regardless of space and time.'

'So it really is a time machine?'

'And if you like adventure, my dear, I can promise you an abundance of it.'