Favourites from the Infernoverse! - Two

The PATRICK TROUGHTON Era - 1966 to 1969

(Had to include some missing stories because I couldn't let them by without a mention)

1. 'The Power of the Daleks' - tragically destroyed in form, this story is packed with incredible characters, jarring plot twists and chilling wonderfulness. Troughton's first adventure as Doctor, an involving and terrifying read if you can get hold of the book.

2. 'The Evil of the Daleks' - another story lost to the fires and the oversights, but what remains is inspiring and what doesn't sounds and looks magnificent. Dalek battles, the Emperor, Troughton shrouded in mystery.

3. 'The Enemy of the World' - a surprising Earth-bound story with political intrigue and left turns aplenty. Especially watch for Troughton playing both protagonist and antagonist - very high-octane, very gripping.

4. 'Tomb of the Cybermen' - a classic adventure, deeply iconic and wonderfully shot and scored. A brill watch with chills on the side.

5.'The Invasion' - my own first taste of the Troughton era, a thrilling (if long) swinging sixties serial with Cybermen, UNIT and again no shortage of iconic imagery. Bit of a hit.

Favourites from the Infernoverse! - One

So here are some lists, in ascending order of adoration, of my favourite Doctor Who stories from each Doctor's era. Of course, due to the length of some tenures compared to others, top 10s might become top 5s as we find ourselves in shorter or less-discussed years. It's just a personal preference, obviously, but I hope it might come in useful for those deciding which stories to watch first (or last, if you're like that). Without further ado. And so on. These posts are liable to be updated heavily over the coming months as I work my way through the final stories I have yet to enjoy.

The WILLIAM HARTNELL Era - 1963 to 1966

1. 'The Dalek Invasion of Earth' - a pure classic, watchable and enjoyable throughout, with healthy doses of Dalekmania, industrial London and famous lines. William Hartnell delivers an emotional performance.

2. 'The Aztecs' - an involved historical epic with intrigue, danger and a proper climax. Lavish design work bolsters the effect of an outstanding script with a series of excellent influences. Hartnell gives probably one of his finest performances amidst sterling work from all involved.

3.'The Web Planet' - a majestic, beautiful and endearing adventure on another world. Zarbi, Menoptera, the Doctor at his conniving best. A fantastic time generally.

4. 'An Unearthly Child' - where it all began, in turns fascinating, comical and bewildering. A must-see for fans, for obvious and occasionally not-so-obvious reasons.

5. 'The Rescue'  - a rare beast which succeeds both at being a pulpy 1960s science fiction adventure and at keying into the nature of the show and changing it for the better. And you can't say that for a lot of stories.

Looking Back: Dragonfire

So 'Dragonfire' is a hideously underrated story. But more on that later.

You join us here this week at the chilly end of 1987, a time when Doctor Who was... not in a good place. Shall we say. It had just struggled through a particularly difficult time with Colin Baker's 'Trial of a Time Lord', something everybody needs time to get over because, let's all face it - 'Trial' is a fucking mess. It's an ungraceful zit on the face of the BBC. It's atrocious. It saw the mistreatment of the lead actor, prompting desperate performances, saw the shocking (but effective) demise of a companion, and then saved her later on in a rushed and nasty way. It saw the desecration of a show that had come to be loved, the final nail in the coffin for Doctor Who, the hurried farewell sermon, the scratched tombstone. That classic innovative show lost apparently forever in the earth.

No stopping them graverobbers though.

The much discussed and oft praised McCoy era began some way into 1987, Doctor Who's 24th year of broadcast. Colin Baker (understandably) wanted no more to do with the show, and so moved on famously before a regeneration scene could be filmed, leaving the BBC with a new lead to find and a different stance to take on how sci-fi had to be done. What they found was a Scottish ex-circus clown and a pantomime space opera, and thus the Doctor returned, lighter, funnier, odder, more relatable and sympathetic than Baker's short-tempered wanderer. Here was a Doctor the audience could warm to, a man with a panama hat and an umbrella shaped like a question mark, and r's rolled so viciously you couldn't help but smile - the wonderful alter ego of Sylvester McCoy. Companion Mel was sticking around for a bit, and with all of eighteen months to prepare a comeback deserving of a big-budget, high adventure science fiction drama, Doctor Who finally came lurching back onto our screens with... 'Time and the Rani'. And then 'Paradise Towers', and then 'Delta and the Bannermen'. Which are... n't good. So was Doctor Who past the point of no return?

You might have been excused for thinking so. A lot of fans at the time started tuning out, abandoning ship. They didn't want this new silly Doctor with his silly camp stories and his strange ways. These days we can appreciate those three unfortunate serials, at least for those aspects which couldn't be helped - we can view them through rose-tinted goggles, admiring their bravery and feeling nostalgic for McCoy. But at the time, 'Time of the Rani', 'Paradise Towers' and 'Delta and the Bannermen' were just not want the people wanted. They were wrong, turning away more fans than they gained. Doctor Who wasn't working how it once had. There was a bad, bad vibe.

Then, 'Dragonfire' happened. And 'Dragonfire' is really something different. It might still have the insane camp, and the puns, and the costumes, but it is, must be universally recognised as where things started to change. A new companion, Ace, was introduced, a character with a notoriously complex and interesting backstory. The themes were darker, the stakes higher, the Doctor's performance subtle and involved. 'Dragonfire' is the sigh of relief. From here on in, things would only get better and better until Doctor Who's untimely cancellation in 1989, two years later. The upswing of quality is catapulted from the end of this story until the closing scenes of 'Survival', and is the reason the McCoy era has become so adored with fans. Plots became intellectual and challenging, exposition was wittled to provide a healthy aura of mystery and mesmeric charm. This is where Doctor Who got good again. Let's give it a look.

Yeah. I really love this story. Seriously. From minute one, it's just great, great fun, a romp around an alien trading colony with a dragon, an insane criminal, a hapless Glitz and feisty Ace. It's everything you could want. Iceworld itself is very well designed - the bar, the caverns, the cooling tunnels. All the sets seem appropriate, and impressive - Kane's lair provides a respectable level of vertical space, which never hurts. Costumes, while still recovering from escapades like 'Delta and the Bannermen', are still glitzy and silly, but fit well enough with the environment to merit their acceptance by the viewer. Everyone's giving it their all, and it shows. The plot sparkles with good fun and heady adventure for the sake of itself, which slowly evolves into something more sinister while still retaining the wit and enthusiasm the story holds early on. It's endearing, certainly, but not endearingly bad, endearingly charming.

The characters populating our world are also convincing (or if not convincing, entertaining or engaging) enough. Returning is Sabalom Glitz, last present in the aforementioned 'Trial of a Time Lord', an intergalactic crook with a paunch and an educated turn of phrase. Glitz is just as much fun here than he was there, more so, even, attributable to the vastly improved quality of the story which is giving his character context. Tony Selby is always enjoyable to watch as the clumsy rogue from Salostophus, and his presence lends the narrative its catalyst as he produces the treasure map which is to draw the Doctor, Mel and the young waitress Ace into a quest to find the mythical dragon beneath Iceworld. Mel is good here, certainly more acceptable than she is in 'Trial', (this being Bonnie Langford's swansong as companion) and I think the way she's handled in a group makes her much more bearable than usual (I'm not a real fan of Mel, but perhaps I need more experience of her). Everything clips along - we meet the baddies, the goodies, see the sights, hear the music with time to spare for private scenes that let writer Ian Briggs expand on the characters of Bellasz, Ace and Kane. It's good to see so much going on for so simple a story.

One of the most important elements of 'Dragonfire' is, of course, the introduction of Ace, and it's really interesting to see how differently her debut plays out than those of previous companions. Indeed, the way Ace is handled throughout the next two years is strikingly mature and of a more modern nature than has been seen previously. Before now, companions have been bystanders, characters defined more by what they do for a narrative than who they are in it (exceptions being Susan, Barbara and Ian, of course, Romana, Turlough, Sarah Jane). So it's refreshing watching Ace's backstory and troubled past unfold in dialogue, hearing her side of story slip out bit by bit in masterful character touches, why she would want to travel with the Doctor, what has made her who she is today. It's remarkably progressive, and isn't the only part of this story that is; the 'monster', a cybernetic alien dragon, turns out to be affable and sweet; Bellasz is a layered character, with flaws and wants; the model shots and effects are breathtaking and the music builds appropriately at key points. 'Dragonfire' is a big push forward in terms of pure class for Doctor Who. 

So the characters make sense, more sense than they have for a while. Each have desires and real-life motivations. All of them, right? All... except Kane. Now Kane is the bad guy of the piece (yeah, spoilers, whatever, not really). He's the guy who kills his own people with his bare hands, whose reasons for 'spreading chaos throughout the galaxy' (there's some really bad exposition from Kane) are shifty and a bit rubbish. He's out and out bad, so bad he needed to be stranded on a planet alone, in a prison ship with a jailer who carries the key that would release him, to taunt his evil mind (weird plot touch? Yep). But honestly, in all seriousness - I couldn't care a jot less. Kane is great. He's great to watch, he's cold, he's a bastard who wants to avenge some thing about his wife or sommat (the details aren't particularly important). He's just bad and camp. And I don't care, because this story is camp. It's camp from minute one to the closing scene. The first cliffhanger is hilariously bad, the second is obvious and CAMP. IT'S ALL CAMP. But it's kinda glorious, too. Sometimes you just need a big fun runaround, a romp without much stakes or character development. But when it's a big fun runaround romp with stakes and character development (hint: like this), the experience is so much more overwhelmingly uplifting. 'Robots of Death' is excellent. 'The Curse of Fenric' never fails to amaze, once it's picked up. But this just makes you happy. You leave it feeling content. And that's really all you can ask for.

You know, really, there isn't so much to say anymore. I'd like to mention some touches; the motif of the little girl with her teddy, for instance, is actually really nice and effective, and lends the Dragon some really adorable character moments when it waves her goodbye after saving her life. It's a nice dragon. Then you have the Doctor, who is wonderful here - McCoy plays inquisitive, sharing his findings, having a whale of a time without losing control or forgetting his bumbling self. He has some great scenes (see 'distracting the guard'), some great lines (see the speech on relative time), some wonderful, wonderful character building scenes (see Mel's goodbye. Really. I need to really talk about this properly, outside brackets). See Mel's goodbye. I'm not even the greatest fan of Mel, I've said that, but the last scene she shares with the Doctor inside the TARDIS is lovely. It speaks volumes about the Doctor, how he tries to battle away his want for her to stay with bluster and detachment, and then gives up after he's come out the other side of his preoccupations with time and its relativity. It's very New-Who feeling, in a good way that elevates the experience for the classic viewer who likes a bit of sentimentality. And then there's Ace's elation at joining the Doctor, Kane's really kind of gory demise (seriously, his face melts, like in Indiana Jones. Only... worse? It's really nasty), Kane tempting Ace with his sovereign, the girl and the diner, the really incredible model work that speaks wonders about the ambition of the production team, the ANT hunt, the revelation of Iceworld's true nature, the destruction of the Nosferatu and so many more. This story just keeps on giving, again and again.

Last Words?

Phoof. I'm out.

The first time I watched 'Dragonfire', I didn't like it. I didn't get it. I didn't like its campness, didn't understand why it should be so well-loved. The bad guy was stupid, all the acting was a bit strained, it was embarrassing to watch with someone else there.

I honestly don't know what changed.

I love 'Dragonfire'. It's just quintessential Doctor Who fun. An excellent story that has space to unfold but not to waste time, a story that lets us enjoy every facet of its production but not get tired of it. A story that excites us for what is to come, and with good reason - this is the beginning of 'Remembrance of the Daleks' and 'Ghost Light' and 'The Curse of Fenric', a story that ensures more than any other of the time that our little science fiction telly show will survive, even after it all goes wrong. 'Dragonfire' embodies why Doctor Who is still on our screens today, and why it will continue to be for a long, long time. Thank you Sylvester McCoy, thank you Ian Briggs and Sophie Aldred and Bonnie Langford and Tony Selby. What a wonderful story. Watch it for me, and be happy.

Looking Back: The War Games

As the swinging sixties drew to a solemn close, a lot of things were changing in the world. The space race had been pretty well won as Neil Armstrong's famous boot crunched on the moon's cheesy soil for the very first time. Russia and America still peered at each other through frosted goggles, fingers hovering over big, important red buttons. Jim Morrison was arrested in Florida for indecent exposure, the Boeing 747 made its first commercial flight, Monty Python's Flying Circus aired for the very first time on BBC 1. The greatest decade the world had ever known was ending - and something else entirely was on its way.

In the midst of all this upheaval, a BBC program called Doctor Who was also considering certain changes - lead actor Patrick Troughton had already stated his desire to jump ship and swim to better places, and in response to both this and to the punishing schedule enforced over the last two years of filming, the Doctor's companions Frazer Hines and Wendy Padbury had also made it clear that Season 6 was to be their last in the TARDIS. Viewing figures were at a dangerous low. This teatime show made with matchsticks and bubble wrap needed to find a way into the modern day, or be pulled back with the tide and into the catalogue of failed telly exploits.

Luckily, some people still quite liked Doctor Who in 1969.

Conversations were quickly had where they counted, phone calls made, and, predictably, the nation's favourite science fiction would return to screens again in 1970, with new colours and a new lead, and pave the way once more for future generations to keep the flame burning. The Doctor wouldn't die with the decade that had spawned his adventures.

This, when the first episode of 'The War Games' aired, was still in the future, but the show was ripe for a reworking and so script editor Terrance Dicks (later to oversee all of Jon Pertwee's five years on Earth) had decided to send the second Doctor out with as big a bang as his near-exhausted BBC-issue musket could provide. At ten parts and 250 minutes of pure Who, the gargantuan beast Dicks's request spawned still remains the second longest single story ever to have graced our screens, not counting 1986's mutated pseudo-season-pseudo-story 'Trial of a Timelord' because, while might claim to be one narrative, it is blatantly and horribly not. And while the overwhelming prospect of ten episodes straight might chill even the hardiest Whovian's blood, this story is surprisingly well-paced and watchable for its length, and still remains one of the most discussed and noteworthy serials to come out of Doctor Who's first ten years.

The success of 'The War Games' is accountable largely to its writers Terrance Dicks and Malcolm Hulke - a duo who would later go on to see made the classic 'Ambassadors of Death' of Pertwee's first season as Doctor - and to David Maloney, director previously of 'The Mind Robber' and 'The Krotons', and afterwards of, among other greats, 'Genesis of the Daleks' and 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang', amounting to a track record of classics unmatched in its popularity by nearly any other. This dream team of BBC execs took it upon themselves to end Patrick Troughton's tenure with an explosive and sprawling tour de force, a final outing and tragic end to the Second Doctor's three-year hero of the good in the Universe, and combatant of the evil - we know it as 'The War Games', and it's a story not to be forgotten. So slip on your cardboard headband and watch closely through a pair of iffy cut-out crosses; it's time for a commentary.

Now, with a story ten parts long, it's always quite easy to pick out individual cogs and wheels for discussion - not wanting to trawl and retrawl through all of 'The War Games' hundreds of minutes, thousands of seconds, one finds oneself naturally drawn towards the aspects of the serial that stuck in one's mind on the first watch (although, with a story of such incredible volume, repeat viewings can be difficult to face). This in mind, and looking down the list of to-dos, it isn't difficult to choose between certain aspects of the narrative to analyse - the intense and intriguing first twenty-five minutes, the chemistry of the seventh and eighth episodes and the charged interactions between the Time Lords, the War Chief and the Doctor. Whilst odd memorable scenes or lines or shots and bits and bobs clunk on the back of the mind's eye every now and again, for those looking to observe and deduce there are certainly clear peaks of quality within 'The War Games', and definite periods during which one's attention tends to sag in the middle, and whilst none of the serial is what anybody could possibly call 'bad', there are noticeable instances of heavy padding to sparse out the story, to water down the squash. This is as with any other Doctor Who story, of course, but with ten parts you're always going to struggle to find material which might suit to insulate the cavities left between different plot points or important events.
So it's remarkable to see just how much of this feels so rawly necessary.

Part one of 'The War Games' is absolutely quintessential Doctor Who. The plot is tight, the script clips along wonderfully and the guest cast shines - Smythe is purely heartless, with a shady background to boot, and Carstairs and Jennifer belongs flamboyantly and brilliantly in a nineteen-forties propaganda film. The rather bleaker wartime world we find ourselves thrust into is very effectively realised and explored with time to spare for plot points, like why Smythe has alien tech in his office and why nobody seems to be able to remember anything very far back after they signed up. I don't want to spoil anything too much for anybody who hasn't watched this, but I can say that the mystery is gripping and the cliffhanger excellent, a proto-'Androzani' blinder that feels unavoidable and awful and just forces you to tune in for part two. And this coming after an adventure in a 'Genesis of the Daleks'-style No Man's Land and a confrontation with a general who really isn't all he seems - it already feels epic and bigger than anything we've got before.

Delving further into the story, the mystery becomes more complicated - different time zones and characters come constantly crashing into the narrative in an onslaught to our half-developed suspicions. The War Chief here, Romans charging from the hills... this story sprawls like a cat under a Volkswagen, but never in a way that seems too ridiculous or without control. Pretty soon we're out of the First World War, pretty soon after that we're finding glassy enemy TARDISes in the recesses of the antagonist's fort. It's on another scale. The guest cast performances are still consistently generally pretty perfectly pitched, too - look out for Michael Troughton's brief cameo as a young soldier, for the monocled and nasal German officer we meet in episode two, for the robotic Security Chief. There are so many elements to this story that have to come together, and I think some of the praise in that they do must be spooned to co-writer Malcolm Hulke, always reliable for a good structure and fair pace. The acting is, overall, of a top quality - but we all know there's really only one star in this mad world of guns and conspirators. And it's the final bow for this little man in his bow tie and shabby coat.

Patrick Troughton's performance in 'The War Games' is immaculate, and so Second Doctor it hurts. Every line rings true, every new obstacle attacked with an enthusiasm and vigour so typical of this man's Doctor Who persona. And we haven't discussed Troughton before now, so I will. The dude's a god.
I'm not saying that he never hammed it, that he never got stuff wrong. We all know this Doctor's tendency to exaggerate, to fluster a little too much, to pander to the younger and the slower. But my god if he wasn't one of the best we've ever seen. Because this is the Doctor who set the trend for all who followed, because there hasn't been an interpretation of the character since Troughton who hasn't had some of the spark, the eccentricity, clumsy tomfoolery or humour that he did in that first episode of 'Power of the Daleks' three years before this. It was an act so totally different from that of his predecessor William Hartnell, so completely other that it has inspired everything that's happened in Doctor Who since. He's a comic, cosmic hobo, the madman in a box, eager to see the Universe. He's the f*cking man.

And this script and this story really gives Troughton the chance to shine. His blustering aggression as the inspector in the 1917 Zone, the sudden and absolute seriousness that assaults him at the involvement of the Time Lords, the incredible, chemical scenes he shares alone with the War Chief - all these allow us to see a more chiselled and adult version of our hero that hasn't necessarily been let out over the rest of his run, making way instead for the floundering space buffoon. It's a Doctor robbed of his choices, knowing that life has caught up with him but never giving up hope, not until his final scene with Jamie, and the touchingly direct farewell the two share. After that, the Doctor is running on an empty tank. He is desperate choosing his new face, finally beaten by the time he is cast to Earth. It's a tragic, unmerited end for the man who has for so long campaigned to fight the evil he sees in the Universe, and a wonderful, wonderful curtain call for the Doctor who would shape the future of the show.

Really, there isn't really a lot more to say, not wanting to ruin the experience for those who haven't yet had the chance to dive into it. Jamie and Zoe's departure is, as mentioned, equally brutal and unfair, just slow enough to register but not fast enough for the impact to be missed. The Time Lords here are portrayed as real bastards, cold and calculating, inexperienced in the ways of justice and mercy; maybe that's bias from somebody who didn't want Troughton to go, but I think it's fair, and that this only serves to reinforce the contrast between the Doctor and his people. This surely is why our hero ran away.

In the vein of bastards, I'd just like to quickly mention Philip Madoc, who plays the War Lord, commander of the unnamed alien forces in this story. Because Philip Madoc is absolutely fantastic too. He's icy, really icy, but not in an obvious way, not in a way that you've really seen before. He's softly spoken, and he moves sedately and slowly. Every tone of his voice is measured and articulate, in a chilling and enthralling way. By the time he moves into this story in part seven (seven!), one is growing tired of the antics of the incompetent and dully formulaic Security Chief and War Chief, and of their vaguely clichéd histrionic evil. Madoc breathes new life into the story, makes you sit up at every scene. Until his death he is the perfect foil for our shaggy Doctor, and plays against Troughton well in the few scenes the two share. And though end this story must with his defeat, it's an interesting thing that it sees the defeat of the Doctor, too.

Last Words?

Like last time's 'Horror of Fang Rock', this is a sad story. But sad in its narrative more than its implications for Doctor Who.

You see, this story marks the end of Patrick Troughton's run as the Doctor. But at the same time it delivers a really great time in terms of performance and scripting. Against the odds, it releases the Second Doctor's polkadot balloon into the sky with a happy sigh of satisfaction, a final relief after the recently unworkable filming schedule and subsequent decline in viewing quality. It's not perfect, there's a lot of wasted time, there's cell hopping, there's some silly dialogue. But 'The War Games' paves the way for Jon Pertwee, and colour, and after him Tom Baker and after Tom Baker Peter Davison. It's a legacy to future generations of actors and writers aspiring to make their mark on Doctor Who. That isn't why this is a sad story.

This is a sad story because it actually is a sad story. It's the story of a young traveler out to see the stars and explore, forced to fight for good against the bad of the cosmos, and how all his good, and all his efforts to find good ended up the death of him. How his final battle against some of the worst in the Universe faced him with the wrongs of his own people, and made him recognise the flaws in them. But the really galling thing about this story is that the Doctor knows he can't fight it. Once the Time Lords are coming, that's it. That's the end of his life as he knows it, he's replaced, albeit with a dashing, velvet-clad technicolour action hero. But it's unfair. It's fundamentally wrong that this should be happening to him, now, when he has so much to give as who he is. But he knows that them's the rules - we don't, we expect him to escape. We expect him to beat the system and ride off into the sunset with his two faithful companions at his side. But this system is his system, the one body he can't rise against. And it's the most awful thing in the world to see the little man in his checked trousers and crumpled coat have to face the errors of others and pay for it, and pay hard. It's against everything he believed in, and everything we believed in with him. But them's the rules, and the powers that be are showing him the door.
So goodbye Doctor. We'll raise a glass to your memory, cite you as the one who changed it all, for the better. You might change your face, your clothes, but underneath all that you will always be the same cosmic hobo in his magic box, fighting evil with a sonic screwdriver and a twinkle in the eye. So cheers for that.

Looking Back: Horror of Fang Rock

I'm back. The blog is darker. Let's get down to business.

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)

Looking Back: The Dæmons

MERRY CHRISTMAS

                                                                 AND SO FORTH

It's the Master.

In 1971, the Master was the new big thing in Doctor Who. The series was in its eighth season and was showing all the better for it, with new and exciting stories every week and a new and exciting villain (and one of the Doctor's own race) hiding in every plot. There were Autons, there were Axons, there was a nuclear missile and an alien colony on a faraway world, and in the middle of this were Jo and the Doctor and the Brigadier, always ready to tackle the next foe the world would inevitably face. If nothing else, Season Eight has a homely and warm sense to it, and a set pattern to its stories which is charming if approached from the right angle. It's all good, and at the heart of all of it is the Master.

See, in the early seventies, Doctor Who needed a new villain. It already had the Daleks, the Cybermen and, to a certain extent, the Ice Warriors, but the production team working on the show felt that the Doctor needed a nemesis not only to present danger and peril, but also to act as the Doctor's equal. The concept was that of a Moriarty figure to the Doctor's Sherlock Holmes, and producer Barry Letts and script editor Terrance Dicks chose a title worthy of the Doctor's to fit Doctor Who's new super villain - the Master. Letts also had just the man for the job, and chose the despicably excellent Roger Delgado as the first (and, arguably, the best (at least in the classic series)) incarnation of the evil Time Lord. Delgado had previously wanted to work on the show and was a close friend of frontman Jon Pertwee's, and so presented himself as the obvious choice for the role. All Letts and Dicks needed now was an introduction, and in 1971 Season Eight of Doctor Who began with a little story called 'Terror of the Autons', which I'm sure we'll get to in time. Now, 'Terror of the Autons' is significant in a number of ways - it features the return of the Autons, a popular villain afforded little screen time, the introduction of the Doctor's new assistant Jo Grant (played by Katy Manning), and the debut of the Master into Doctor Who. Nobody at the time could possibly have imagined what the Master would still be today.

But we're not reviewing 'Terror of the Autons'. We're reviewing this, a five-part story that concludes Season Eight and, in my opinion, sends it out with a really, really great bang. By the end of the season, the Master character was already getting a little worn (cough - appeared in every story that year - cough), and the team behind the series decided that it might be best to put him away for a while, as he had evaded capture a number of times already and, frankly, it was getting ridiculous. Come on, the guy had turned up literally every story that season. I mean, imagine the Daleks being in every story of a season. How dull would that get? Anyway, ever wise and venerated, Letts decided give the character a little breathing space and sent him off for a while. The 'Master Season' was to conclude, appropriately, with the final (cough) carting off of the Master, and Doctor Who was to return to basics once again. For a bit. But this is that story.

Famously, 'The Dæmons' is a true classic, often regarded as the epitome of the Pertwee era. Is that true? Well, no. I'm going to say that outright. Not for me. But it's damn good. It was written by Robert Sloman and Barry Letts (yeah, that guy from earlier), who also penned 'The Green Death' and 'Planet of the Spiders', which gives these guys a pretty good track record. I mean, ask anyone what to watch when it comes to the Pertwee era, and two of the answers you're going to get pretty often are 'The Green Death' and 'The Dæmons', because people remember them. The one with the maggots and the one with the exploding church. Those ones. I mean, it's not like Hinchcliffe and Holmes (because they're very different eras), but it's solid and good and fun. It's also a story directed by Doctor Who hallmark Christopher Barry, who, way back in 1963, was given the job of directing the second ever Doctor Who story 'The Daleks', featuring the introduction of - well yeah. Among other stories, Barry also directed 'The Power of the Daleks' and 'The Brain of Morbius', so - wow. 'The Power of the Daleks' and 'The Brain of Morbius'. This guy can direct. So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that this story has some good things looking it's way - can it live up to the hype? Is it just another 'Time Monster' (a story Sloman and Letts also cowrote)? Please no? Well, there's only one way to find out what's going down with this story...

Let's do it!

Before I write anything solid I'd just like to say that I really, really enjoy this first part. It's tense, exciting and, though we don't know exactly what they are, it has insane stakes. I love a story with stakes, and not knowing what the stakes are is actually remarkably effective - I mean, the Doctor knows. And he generally turns out to be pretty right about stuff, so just that he's so insanely worried about what the hell is going down at Devil's End is enough to get us interested. What does he know? What's the secret of Devil's End? And what on Earth is the Master doing dressed as a vicar?

I actually love the Master in this. And not just because he's being the Master and he's all mysterious and there's a considerable mystery attached to his role in this community (he's the vicar. The vicar). It's not just that he's that. I think perhaps that Letts and Sloman do something with the Master's role that they don't necessarily do too often, which is put him, at least in the later episodes, in a position of weakness. He totally oversteps himself in this, and we all know it's happening and it's really really interesting seeing his plans just collapse (and really collapse this time. Collapse collapse). I mean, yeah, this does happen quite a lot - thinking about 'Terror of the Autons' and 'The Mind of Evil', and.. actually a whole lot of other stories. Okay so my point doesn't ring so true. But it's really a lot more noticeable in this, and for that reason it's a whole lot more fun and intense. Sort of.

I think a lot of the intensity in this story comes from the tone of the piece, as a whole. I mean, take the scene we open on; it's dark, windy, stormy, there's lightning, and a guy gets killed. He gets killed in the dark by an unknown force - yes we've seen that a lot in Doctor Who, but here it's so much more... powerful and scary and - I mean, I hesitate to say realistic. It's just way scary and dark and intense - we should have done this for Hallowe'en. It's definitely that kind of piece, and I think that much of the relentlessness of this first part comes from Pertwee, who totally gets what he's doing in this and does it as well as he possibly can. He's great. It's really here that Pertwee's talent and understanding of the role shines through, and seeing him so scared, so terrified by the prospect of what's going on at the dig at Devil's End makes this story really raw and enjoyable. It's just a shame that he's asleep for most of part two. 

Also noteworthy is the direction of Christopher Barry, who's talent shines through here I think more than anything he does before or after. The shots in the darkness, the intercutting of scene to scene, everything down to the angle of the camera up on the mound above the dig, which is also lovely. I like the way Letts and Sloman manage to convey a sense of realism to our characters working on the dig, and the BBC3 news report is a genius decision. You see it here as you see it in 'The Ambassadors of Death', an earlier Pertwee story, and it just works so well. I mean, we can all connect with a good news reporter, can't we? And seeing one here feels like an effective and natural way to introduce us to the threat and location the rest of our story will inevitably move onto. And this worries the Doctor. Big archeology. Bad omens. A witch, too. Let's get this straight - nobody who's into classic Doctor Who will dispute that this is an incredible introduction to our story. And my god, the Doctor and Jo racing to stop the Devil's Hump being opened and failing. Much intense. Very scary. Thrilling.

As is a theme appearing with this blog, I tend to go deep into the first episode, just to set up the characters and setting and such, and then skim the main points of the next few to give you a taste of how the story unravels and expands. So this is what I'm going to do.
Carrying on through the story it's great to see later episodes living up to what the first promised. Obviously the second and third parts aren't quite as good, they couldn't be - the purpose of middle parts is to flesh out the story and wheel-spin until the climax and resolution in parts four and five (obviously this story is a rare five-parter, so it's structurally quite different to some others, and therefore rather slower). I have to say that the wheelspinning is most evident in part three, which, although good, feels very padded and quite Pertwee-samey. Which is, I suppose, not the worst thing, considering that at that point in the story viewers could really do with a little explanation for what's going on. It's okay, it's not so awful - not so unbearable as 'The Monster of Peladon', for instance. There's still plenty to enjoy, and the ideas behind this story are really fascinating.

So like I said, I love the mythology that backs this up. The Dæmons sound awesome (and are, but that's only in the last episode), there's a tiny tiny spaceship in the Devil's Hump, there's talk of alien races influencing mankind throughout the aeons - seriously, if it's sciency and mysterious, this story's got it. Alright, so yeah, how many times have we heard about alien races guiding humanity in Doctor Who. It's a great premise, but think of this story, and then Scaroth in 'City of Death', and Fenric in 'The Curse of Fenric' - oh, and the Silence in the modern series. And the Daleks too. You get my point, but here it seems a lot more fresh than the others, probably because this was the first time the concept was really fully fleshed out in the series, and, while it might not be as powerful or intriguing as in the Scaroth or Fenric plots (because they're both quite excellent and in a league above this for me), I think that there's a lot going for the lore and backstory to 'The Dæmons'.

Also lovely in this story are the many subcharacters and smaller roles that collect to build it up. Olive Hawthorne, the local witch, is interesting and very proper, as are the more developed Captain Yates and Sergeant Benton. Oh, and Olive and Benton have a kind of... thing going on. Maybe I'm wrong, but they have a load of chemistry and subtext there (some of which I might be making up), and to watch it all play out in the background is very reassuring and fun. Of note too is the Brigadier, who is always wonderful, and the way in which Letts and Sloman put him out of the way until the delightful climax seems to me an unusual choice for this season, which is notably Brigadier- and UNIT-heavy. Of course, this story is also very UNIT too - there are delightful car/motorbike/helicopter chases, explosions and guns as well as black magic, spaceships and witchcraft.

Obviously I'm not forgetting the Doctor in all this. I think it's wonderful seeing Pertwee really playing with the character all through this story, and in a lot of scenes it's really plain to see the energy and purpose he spills into the role. The car chase is sublime Pertwee, as is his slow realisation of just what the hell is going on here. He plays remarkably well off Delgado as the Master (as usual), and reacts to his companions with a great warmth typical of this incarnation. There are scenes that really properly show off just how good this man was at being the Doctor - one that really springs to mind is when the Mayday villagers are holding the Doctor at gunpoint in the town green. The way Pertwee puts his argument across to the Master's followers, and how he deals with the situation at large, is wonderfully intelligent and great to watch after seeing the Doctor so consistently done over all through the story so far. In front of Azal, Pertwee really puts across the reality and danger of the situation, just adding that edge that some other Doctors didn't always possess.

Successful also in this story are the villains/monsters introduced at various points throughout. We start, of course, with the Master, and all the potential hazards he represents, but all the way through all five episodes we are treated to more and more threats, building and supporting on each other in a gloriously well-devised way. First after the Master comes Bok, and Bok, I find, is truly one of the most unsettling little shits Doctor Who ever came up with. A gargoyle that comes to life may sound silly and already done, but consider for a moment the dark, black magic backdrop this story already has and Bok becomes something of a nightmare. His eyes glow red, he shoots sparks from his hands and he moves in a childishly excited way that never seems forced or silly, only perverse and sudden and terrifying. Also, he's kinda indestructible and inspired the incredibly famous Brigadier line: 'Chap with wings there - five rounds rapid'. So props to Bok.

After Bok, but hinted at all through 'The Dæmons', comes at last Azal, the last of the mighty Dæmons. Now Azal, tall and devil-like with horns and red eyes, has returned to Earth at last to study how mankind has continued to develop, and to decide whether or not to abandon the 'experiment' (in other words whether to discard Earth and destroy the human race or to leave it to its own devices). So that's a pretty cool concept in itself, but adding into the mix that Azal can change his size at will and kill using heat and raw power and you've got yourself a villain who is pretty much just a legend in his own right. And nothing about him ever really seems contrived. Jolly jolly jolly.

Finally, of course, this story has to be resolved. After five episodes of danger, of stakes and chase scenes and mystery and magic and science and rivalry and terror and wit, we have a climax that is, without ever appearing too convenient or too difficult to understand, simply satisfying beyond belief. Not mind-blowing. Not revelatory. Just a big happy sigh. It sees the imprisonment of the Master, the destruction of Bok and the demise of the Dæmons in Azal, who breaks down as he struggles to understand human nature. And, solid throughout, the Doctor and Jo and the Brigadier and Yates and Benton stand victorious, leaving viewers for another year with a general feeling of tranquility and all-the-world-is-right. I think, above all, this seems like a fitting end to a season like Season Eight, which more than many others deserves a great and sizeable payoff. Also I love the Brig and Yates going for a pint.

Last Words?

This is one of my favourite Jon Pertwee stories.

Even without the great contributions almost all cast and crew, the bulk of ideas behind this story are gripping enough to merit and surpass the story's celebrated place in Who-lore. The direction is elegant, the script is remarkably fun, and the lead actors give performances that do themselves and each other more than enough justice. The villains are intriguing and terrifying throughout, the Master is gloriously Master-y with a healthy dose of being unavoidably out of his depth, and the structure of the story - while occasionally falling slightly flat as in parts three and four (where it does a bit) - is unusual and refreshing (due to the unusual and refreshing length of the story). I think it's fair to say that 'The Dæmons' is up there with 'The Curse of Peladon' and 'Spearhead From Space' as far as the Pertwee era goes, and at least up to the standards of a lot of later era stories too. It shows only too well on watching and rewatching the story; 'The Dæmons', I'm happy to report, lives up to all the hype and gives something to the Pertwee era that can never be taken away. It's a brilliant showcase for the Master, moreso for the Doctor, and displays Doctor Who at its very best in a totally unique way. I love it, and so will you. Merry Christmas everybody