The Space Museum [Doctor Who, Story 15]

The Space Museum by Glyn Jones

24 April - 15 May 1965

Yes, well… It’s all a bit… That is to say… It’s kind of... not very good.

But what if it was? There’s at least the kernel of something here. Everyone agrees that the first episode is pretty darned good, so there was potential here at some point. I’d go out on a limb so far as to say that this story is borderline worthwhile. So let’s keep a positive viewpoint here and focus on what’s actually good about The Space Museum. God help me.

Let’s not get it twisted; the eponymous first episode is pretty phenomenal. The torch of weirdness lit by The Web Planet is well and truly picked up here, distilled into twenty-five minutes of frightening sci-fi paranoia as the main cast wanders through the wrong time zone and gradually discovers that something isn’t quite right. The four characters of the main cast are at their best, alert and clever and funny as they absorb this information. The shot of the shattered glass of water rewinding its way into a startled Vicki’s hand is one of the most memorable moments of this season. And the crux of the serial itself, the revelation that the TARDIS crew will have to avert the timeline from their own certain deaths upon seeing the gruesome sight of themselves stuffed or frozen as museum displays, is such a clever bit of time-travel based storytelling. This is the first time the show has really allowed a mechanic of time travel to play a central role in a story that’s not a historical, so herein lies the prototype for every baroque Moffat plot to come in future days.

Even past the first episode, it’s possible to find a some things to enjoy. I was particularly interested by the roles the different members of the main cast take up once they scatter out into the museum. In a modern story, the Doctor would chinwag with the villain, have some daring action scenes where he fools some of the guards, and then he’d start a revolution to kick the Moroks out. All of these roles are here, but they aren’t all in the Doctor’s hands. He does get the first, and his interrogation is properly funny, with his quick mastering of the screen broadcasting his thoughts being great fun. (And a little horrifying, I don’t think Bill Hartnell in an Edwardian swimsuit is a sight I’ll forget anytime soon.) Ian receives a moment in the foreground which I’d think would belong to the Doctor in a modern episode, unblinkingly talking a Morok guard out of shooting him and the others by accusing him of being unable to do it. Vicki also gets dealt a good hand. When left to her own devices as the group scatters, she takes on the role of the plucky anarchist and incites the Xerons to revolution. The magician’s apprentice has learned well.

It’s also worth noting that this is the first story so far that has taken sides with the 1960s counterculture in a big way. The Moroks, doddering middle-aged ex-imperialists ho-humming their way through a museum full of their old conquests, seem like a pretty straightforward comment on Britain’s imperial past to me, which in 1965 wasn’t exactly an old memory. There’s really no screwing about in showing what this old style of thinking requires: a good kick in the pants, courtesy of the trendy youngsters in the turtleneck sweaters. I have to applaud The Space Museum for that much.

If only it hadn’t put us at the mercy of some of the most boring exposition delivery ever and then filled the last 75 minutes of the serial with drippy characters played by bored actors, and excruciating plotting. Oh well. That’s the name of the game. Back to you, Sera.

Sera’s Say:

She was really indignant about how badly this one went off the rails, actually. The experience of her relentlessly mocking the Moroks and Xerons for the last 3/4s of the story can’t really be replicated in text. She was a force of nature. The disappointment was mostly borne out of a genuine respect for the atmosphere of the first episode, so I think the letdown was particularly keen. Comparing the TARDIS crew teaming up with the Thals to their similar team-up with the Xerons: “Terry Nation did it better.”

Just her luck. The Chase is up next.

Memorable Dialogue:

“Doctor, we’ve got our clothes on.” “Well I should hope so, dear boy!”

“They’ve gone!” “Yes, my dear - and we’ve arrived!”

“For what purpose are the arms needed?” “Revolution!”

Miserable Dialogue:

“Well, I’ve got two more mimmians before I can go home. Yes, I say it often enough, but it’s still two thousand Xeron days and it sounds more in days.”

“Well, this will indeed be a red letter day for the Xeros calendar.”

“Have any arms fallen into Xeron hands?”

And many more...

The Crusade [Doctor Who, Story 14]

The Crusade by David Whitaker

27 March - 17 April 1965

I have to say, going The Romans-The Web Planet-The Crusade poses an interesting case of whiplash. Historical-Vortis-historical is the sort of seat-of-your-pants transition that you just don’t get every day, even if this simplification does disguise the fact that this story and The Romans are very different sorts of historical. The Romans relished in the tropes and trappings of TV drama about its period of choice for humorous effect, where The Crusade attempts instead to fashion a semi-serious, cod-Shakespeare drama using its own armoire of set pieces and stereotypes. Many of the things which The Crusade does are hard to fault, particularly its coup casting of Julian Glover, who probably isn’t a splinter of Scaroth, and is in fact an actor of some repute as I understand it. There’s something a little funny about an acclaimed Shakespearean player turning up to this ropey science fiction serial and putting in such a damned good effort. At least today, we know that Doctor Who is a cultural institution, which is liable to draw actors of this caliber in through its shear force of gravity, though in 1965 I believe the concrete on that particular foundation hasn’t hardened just yet.

Talking of Glover, his scenes here, particularly those with Jean Marsh (on whom more next season), are the highlights of the serial. No matter the material he’s given (which, to be fair, is mostly very good), he elevates it by far, playing it with seriousness and dignity that forces one to take it all more seriously, too. Not that the regulars slouch their way through this one, naturally. As usual, they’re all pretty brilliant. The Doctor relishes the chance to be a tourist in history, and Hartnell seems to be delighted to be in the same shot as Glover every time it comes around. Our dearest Chatterton becoming “Sir Ian of Jaffa” is a wonderful beat of the sort that you’d expect given the sort of television show that the TARDIS crew has landed in this week. His voyage across Palestine to find Barbara keeps the middle portions of this serial trundling onward at a nice pace. He even gets another contemporary man for a sidekick this time, and um… oh dear. Ibrahim isn’t exactly the most tasteful of characters, his taste for honey notwithstanding (and what IS it with ants this season?) There’s a lot to say about how this serial measures up in terms of actually involving actors of color while caricatures like this one still find their way in. But frankly, it’s been done to death, and I spot better opportunities for this particular grindstone to turn on the horizon, so I’d rather talk about something else. Namely Vicki.

I actually intended to give a good word to Vicki in the last serial, particularly where her chat with Barbara in the TARDIS in the first episode of The Web Planet was concerned. I noticed a rather interesting pattern developing in the way Vicki is being employed in Season Two. Although she has had a few good scenes with Barbara and Ian since she joined the team, she’s far and away spent most of her time at the Doctor’s side. It’s easy to imagine this as a consequence of her replacement of Susan, who, after all, was a character with an indelible link to the Doctor, but I think this idea disguises the fact that bar a handful of serials - An Unearthly Child, The Sensorites, Planet of Giants, and The Dalek Invasion of Earth - Susan usually isn’t paired up with the Doctor to the exclusion of Barbara, Ian, or the guest cast. Conspicuously, though, these last three serials have had Vicki spend all or most of her time alongside the Doctor. What’s the deal here? Is it as simple as the fact that Maureen O’Brien and William Hartnell have fantastic onscreen chemistry? Well… yes, that’s probably it. But I have a more interesting theory.

Because no matter the indelible link between the Doctor and Susan, Susan always seems a little more comfortable alongside Ian and Barbara. When she’s on-screen with her grandfather, it’s typically either to generate tension between her desire to live as she will and the Doctor’s paternalistic concern for her, or to act as a mediator between him and the schoolteachers on board. Vicki, though, has a fundamental disconnect toward Barbara and Ian, and a certain affinity toward the Doctor that isn’t just assumed by nature of relation. Barbara and Ian were Susan’s teachers, and even if she was mysterious to them before the start of the show, her six months on Earth still gave her some sort of tie to them. This tie made Susan feel, fundamentally, like a 60s English teenager. Whereas Vicki is just, well… more unearthly.

To expand further, I think Vicki isn’t quite just tailing after the Doctor like Susan would. To my eye, it seems like Vicki is learning from the Doctor, assisting him like Susan would, yes, but crucially expanding her knowledge of the universe as she goes, becoming a little more of a transgressive and active force of change, like the Doctor is. Here I see the prototype for Ace and Clara and Bill, a companion who isn’t just there to ask questions, but to grow through asking those questions and become a greater force of narrative change in the process. A magician’s apprentice, if you will. Her tabard and cap that she dons upon arriving in the king’s court are illustrative toward this too, I think. After all, a page is a knight in training.

But enough of the hogwash. What says my co-marathoner?

Sera’s Say:

The overall verdict was “pretty good”, so sorry to spoil the suspense. Vicki still has yet to really move Sera, who confesses that she still probably prefers Susan at this point to the plucky page of this outfit. Regardless, she still thought The Crusade was good enough, even though the poor quality of the reconstructions dragged it down a little for her, which is fair since it did the same for me. She was particularly unimpressed by the character of Ibrahim, but was chuffed to pieces about the shouting match with Joanna and Richard. I made sure to tease her about keeping an eye out for Joanna’s actress in the future, and since she has at least seen City of Death, I was able to annoy her with cracks about Scaroth throughout.

Assuming my stupid jokes don’t drive her off first, Sera will join me in appraising The Space Museum next. What could possibly go wrong?

Memorable Dialogue:

“There's something new in you, yet something older than the sky itself.”

“The only pleasure left for you is death. And death is very far away.”

Miserable Dialogue:

Oh dear, all this section’s content seems to have been stolen by the next story...

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 August 2018.)

The Web Planet [Doctor Who, Story 13]

The Web Planet by Bill Strutton

13 February - 20 March 1965

Wahey. It’s impossible not to say a whole lot about this one, isn’t it? I’ve been entertained for a while by pictures and brief clips of the Menoptra dancing across the surface of Vortis, which along with the, shall we say, spirited reactions to this story in some sections of the fandom, had me very interested to see this one for myself. This legendarily weird story looms over the Sixties portion of Doctor Who, whether as a testament to the show’s ingenuity and willingness to try the unexpected, or as a testament to how its tendency to overreach past its means could result in some truly epic turkeys. I won’t screw around with pretending that I don’t lean more toward the former camp, but I can’t say with all seriousness, either, that this serial doesn’t hit those pitfalls more than once along the way. Often neglected is the fact that beneath the pageantry and the giant, beeping ants, there’s a very simple and straightforward plot of the TARDIS crew assisting an alien race in overcoming an oppressor which wouldn’t be out of place in many later seasons.

The real strength of The Web Planet is in its worldbuilding. Vortis maybe doesn’t quite squeak into “believable world” territory, but it more than makes the trip into “interesting world”. The light-worship of the Menoptra, their relationship with the Optera and Zarbi, and the presence and implications of the Animus are all pretty fascinating. The way it’s all executed is, needless to say, occasionally a little risible, especially the Zarbi, whose interminable beeping nearly ended this marathon prematurely. (Scary!) To say nothing of the obvious bit when one bumps the camera, of course. Still, everything is attempted with obvious attention and care, which softens the blow for some of the effects which just don’t work. The bizarre, musical performance of the Menoptra is striking, and best exemplified by the efforts of Roslyn De Winter of “Insect Movement” fame as Vrestin. Some of her buddies don’t quite have the knack of it, but it does all prompt the hilariously charming mental image of the bunch of them actually practicing the moth choreography that was apparently performed between takes. A detail which I’ve never heard remarked upon: the Menoptra’s actors take on stiff poses like dead bugs every time that they die. Nicely done.

As for the atmosphere of the production, the literal “atmosphere” applied to the lenses of the cameras during “outdoors” scenes is, um, not exactly successful, but props for trying. The Vortis sets themselves look very nice, occasionally visible studio lights notwithstanding. They’re very evocative of classic, fin de siecle sci-fi like A Trip to the Moon, which is curious to see in a television show from the 1960s for sure, but definitely appealed to me. And the unrelenting grimness on display in some parts of the story had me sitting up to take notice, too. The Zarbi tearing the wings off of captured Menoptra was absolutely horrifying in the best way, to say nothing of the scene where an Optera shoves her own head into the wall to stop a flow of acid from hurting her friends. All Ian can do is stand there in silent confusion as the other Optera move along, before getting on with it as he always does. That latter scene in particular was probably my favorite of the serial, this silent commentary on Ian’s part doing better to sell the theme of the episodes than anything else.

Of course, I have to admit that for all its efforts to sell the alien, The Web Planet sometimes goes a little too far in making it difficult to relate to the setting. The Menoptra are fun to watch, but it’s hard to feel sorry for them without some detachment, wing-ripping or no. I think that the Animus walks the line somewhat better, the more plain, human voice of the entity being a little easier to listen to than those of the insectoid characters, while still being cold, eerie, and alien. Alien, but not alienating. Fancy that. The Lovecraft angle has been done to death, and I don’t know a thing about it, so I’ll simply leave that particular aspect of the Animus’s construction at: neat.

So, yes, The Web Planet will never be one of my favorites, but I liked it a bit. Enough about the Seer, what about the Sera?

Sera’s Say:

Well, it was a difficult watch for both of us, as I hinted early on above. Sera’s a little more sensitive to loud noises than most people. As am I, frankly - try not to be too shocked that I rest somewhere on the autism spectrum, my enduring fixation on a British sci-fi series might have given it away. We had to take occasional breaks from the Zarbi’s noisy beeping and took it slow watching this one, which, hm, is how it was intended to be viewed actually. I suppose it all worked out in the end. Aside from annoyances, Sera also cracked up laughing for about a solid minute when the first Zarbi walked into frame, which is fair. They do have beautiful legs. She was entertained by some of its more experimental moments, though she is of the opinion more strongly than I am that its ambition outperformed its reach a bit. Still, at the end of it, she did remark that she wouldn’t mind if modern Who tried something this zany and ambitious. End verdict: “It was okay.”

Get your “Deus vult”s going early, because The Crusade is up next.

Memorable Dialogue:

“Maybe we could talk to them, make them understand?” “Apart from rubbing our back legs together like some sort of grasshopper? I doubt if we could get on speaking terms with them.”

“Light was our God and we existed in light, flying above thought.”

[The Carsinome gurgles.] “And the same to you!”

“What Vortis is, I am… What you are, I will become.”

Miserable Dialogue:

[BEEPING]

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 9 August 2018.)

The Romans [Doctor Who, Story 12]

The Romans by Dennis Spooner

16 January - 6 February 1965

So, this one starts on an interesting note. So distant is the time between the literal cliffhanger we were last left on and the beginning of the action here that at least two stories have been set during the gap in the “expanded universe”. Naturally, I didn’t find myself with the spare time for either, so let’s chug along. The smash cut from imminent peril to Ian apparently lying supine and unconscious, before a little sprig of grapes wanders into shot for him to happily munch on, is really a great tone setter for this story. I mumbled last season about how Spooner’s first script wasn’t really all that funny, but now it seems that he’s started to earn his reputation. This story is honestly pretty hilarious at points, playing with the tropes and trappings of drama set in the Roman era and making it all ridiculous in the process. My history nerd’s anorak compels me at this point to point out that almost nothing portrayed in this serial is actually based on fact so much as what people think 1st Century Rome was like, but that’s rather the point, so I’ll hang that garment up now and try to actually have fun for once instead.

I almost wish the whole story had kept Ian and Barbara in one place, since their back-and-forth at the villa is a little captivating, and, dare I say it? A little emotionally charged? (What a controversial opinion that must be at this point, I said without sincerity.) It’s lovely to see more or less in the open what’s been sort of obvious since their first appearance, that Russell and Hill’s characters actually do have splendid romantic chemistry, with the fact that the action has lulled to a stop for a bit letting them relax and relish in that chemistry. At least until the cozy atmosphere is broken up suddenly by the slavers’ attack on the villa, which is actually a little grim, aside from Barbara accidentally braining Ian with an ampora. The contrast between the levity and the seriousness of the situation left me nervously chuckling at the felled Ian while Barbara was carted off. I think I can hear Donald Cotton taking notes in the background.

Here I digress to note that there’s a real trend in historicals up to this point of pairing Ian with a contemporary man with whom he spends most of the adventure: in Marco Polo he spent much of his time in discussion with the titular character, in The Aztecs he became (fatally) entangled with his buddy Ixta, and here he’s paired for most of the serial with a dependable nobody named Delos. I’m not prepared to analyze this recurring theme very deeply, though I will happily point out that in every case, it seems to give Ian a fight to get embroiled in fisticuffs or swordfighting with somebody. He’s a restless soul, our Ian.

My one really sour note with this serial is, probably unsurprisingly, the way Barbara is treated, and particularly the Benny Hill sequences where Nero chases her around the palace. It’s been talked to death, but it’s really difficult in this day and age to take these in the humorous spirit in which they were intended. I’d say that we live in more enlightened times now, but considering who’s currently president in my country and his own particular moral merits, I doubt I’d be able to manage a straight face.

In happier news, the Doctor’s role in The Romans is absolutely fantastic. After The Aztecs, he finally appears to have lightened up a bit about capering around in history. For what seems almost the first time (and blessedly not the last), he spends the serial taking the piss out of the institutions of power, making a stir in Nero’s court and inadvertently bringing about the Fire of Rome. Much has been made of his giddy reaction to the realization that he’s changed history, but I’m more interested in the lyre concert at Nero’s dining hall, which I honestly think is the most uproariously funny moment of the whole story. Rome and its symbology have been used as emblems of power and authority, sometimes for ill, for centuries after the end of its Empire, so it’s fitting that the Doctor sits in the heart of that Empire and illustrates the absolute banality of the great and powerful. His silent concert has everyone present nodding very seriously and pretending they can hear its “delicate” tones. And so it’s capped off by the funniest line in the whole story, when Nero leans over to someone and mumbles, somewhat sorely, “He’s alright, but he’s not all that good.” The Doctor as a subversive force of anarchy is something I could very much grow used to.

My last word on The Romans really is that it’s a wonderfully subversive and genuinely funny set of episodes. In spite of the awkward moments, it really does deserve its good reputation. And what did my better half have to say?

Sera’s Say:

Well, most of the same stuff, really. Sera liked it as well, with Barbara’s runaround with Nero likewise being her low point. I can attest first-hand that the story otherwise garnered more than a few genuine laughs from both of us. She paid a little more attention to the visual effects than I did, and was particularly distracted by a really rubbish polystyrene boar’s head during Nero’s dinner. She also noticed what I did in Spooner’s last story, that flames held before these old BBC cameras produce an unnatural black halo that, to her amusement, made them look fake despite obviously being real. As someone steeped in “New Who” but unfamiliar with these early stories, she remarked that a true, pure historical is a little weird, but that this one worked out for her just the same.

But enough about Italy for now. We’re due a trip to the planet Vortis in The Web Planet. I’ll put my Coal Hill school tie away somewhere safe.

Memorable Dialogue:

“Chesterfield…” “Chester-TON.” “Eh, Barbara’s calling you.”

“Is that your lyre?” “Why, have you lost one?”

“The gentle art of fisticuffs.”

Miserable Dialogue:

None. Congratulations!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 5 August 2018.)

The Rescue [Doctor Who, Story 11]

The Rescue by David Whitaker

2 - 9 January 1965

So after a quick yeah-yeah-yeah comic-musical digression, we tuck into 1965 proper with something of an appetizer. Or do we? I feel as if I might have jumped past 25 seasons by accident, because this feels an awful lot like a story of the New Who vein for a few reasons, chiefly its bite-sized length and its plot being centered around the introduction of a new companion.

I’m under the distinct impression (spoilers, spoilers) that most companion introductions in the classic series will be pretty incidental from here on out, so getting this little pair of episodes to really ease us into Vicki’s presence on the team is quite welcome. I imagine it was necessary to have something like this, by dint of the simple fact that they’d never replaced a member of the core cast before. Admittedly, I don’t feel that we get much of a look at what separates Vicki from Susan in these two episodes, but Maureen O’Brien acquits herself well and gets to enjoy some banter with Barbara that gives us some idea of what her time on the TARDIS will be like.

The plot itself isn’t an overly intricate affair, its chief concern being the menace and unmasking of Koquillion (or in William Russell terms, cocky-lickin’). I had unfortunately been spoiled on this, but it was still fun to see exactly how it played out. There’s not much reason to suspect Bennett until the penny drops, but when you consider that he’s really the only other guy on the planet, he has to be at least a little suspicious from the start. The scene where the Doctor confronts him in the hall of justice is the best of the story. The set itself is fairly nice, and we’re treated to a long tracking shot of the Doctor as he enters at the start. His chinwagging with Bennett as he exposes his duplicity is wonderful. Equally wonderful is the sudden switch from fearless truth-telling to nervous backpedaling when the Doctor recalls that, oh yes, he’s stuck in a claustrophobic room with a proven murderer. A wonderful set piece.

Barbara is (as usual) quite splendid here. The touching moment at the start where she helpfully asks the Doctor to teach her how to open the TARDIS doors is much remarked upon. After we get the requisite stupid moment out of the way early on when she takes a quick tumble down a sizable cliff (and is somehow only knocked out), she also gets some time having fun with Vicki, and also killing her pet. Oh dear… poor Sandy. I’m not sure what that bit is meant to contribute aside from a good jolt to the viewer, since Vicki’s over it in a flash and it doesn’t come up again. The sand monster looks great, though.

Ian is also in this one.

Aside from this, I feel there’s not much to milk out of this one. It is a fairly simple fifty-minute insert to bring Vicki into the fold, filled with some fun scenes and a quick mystery to fill the time. It certainly promises some more fun stories ahead, so I think I’ll look forward to those.

Sera’s Say:

Sera couldn’t really get herself into this one by virtue of what a flash in the pan story it was; not quite enough of actual consequence happened to afford her more than a lukewarm impression. She liked the same moments which I thought were nice, and also spotted Bennett as Koquillion from a mile away, so good on her for that one.

Maybe we’ll have more fun getting thrown to the lions. The Romans is up next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 27 June 2018.)

Cities Made of Song, 1964

A Hard Day’s Night by the Beatles

“But when I get home to you I find the things that you do / Will make me feel alright”

I’m not too proud to admit it. Long before I first saw a TARDIS on-screen, my British import of choice was the Beatles. I was quite the little fanatic, memorizing the discography and all, at least until embarrassment and teenagehood prevailed and sent me on my merry way, trying to forget I ever liked them at all. In adulthood I find that embarrassment is overrated, so pshaw to that. It turns out that I still like them after all.

I cheekily avoided mentioning the group at all for the first “Cities Made of Song” entry, even though they were all over the place in 1963. On 22 November of that year, the day Kennedy died and the day before Who premiered, they dropped their second major album, “With the Beatles”, whose popularity would at last make them a hit across the Atlantic. They landed at recently renamed JFK Airport in New York City on 7 February 1964, the day before The Edge of Destruction aired, to record crowds, and soon brought 73 million viewers (!) to the Ed Sullivan Show to see them perform live.

Needless to say, they were a hit, taking the world by storm in a way which no British pop band had before. Beatlemania and Dalekmania coincided, though the former involved a good deal more screaming fans than the latter. And in the midst of all this, the Beatles dropped their third LP, A Hard Day’s Night, which frankly blows the last out of the water. Recorded only a few months after their last studio album, A Hard Day’s Night immediately has a different sound to With the Beatles, a more slick pop-music tint to the tracks than the more straightforward rock and roll on the last. This rapid maturation of the Beatles’ music would continue; bear in mind that only 17 months after this release, they were recording Rubber Soul.

This LP is interesting in the fact that it’s actually a soundtrack for the movie of the same name, at least on its ‘A’ side. Filmed concurrently with the production of Marco Polo and The Keys of Marinus, and released during the broadcast of The Sensorites, the film quickly earned considerable critical praise as well as financial success, and for pretty good reason. Because it’s totally hilarious. One gets the sense that the screenplay writer spent a lot of time around the Beatles, because the jokes match their individual senses of humor very closely. John’s “snorting a bottle of Coke” gag had me in stitches. Wilfrid Brambell as Paul’s grandfather is a riot in pretty much every scene he’s in, too.

All throughout, too, there’s a wonderful sense of self-awareness not unlike the honesty with its limitations that Doctor Who seems to display during this period too, a simple self-effacing humor which makes the film a lot more than just a pop music money grab. All throughout the Beatles are portrayed faithfully as a quartet of young men who can’t quite understand how they got so big, and prefer having fun to the harrying adulation of fans and the harsh demands of their schedule. Small wonder that, within two years of this, they’d stopped touring altogether. When a contemporary critic calls A Hard Day’s Night the “Citizen Kane of jukebox musicals”, it’s only slightly hyperbolic. It comes with my recommendation. Try as I did, though, my straw-grasping didn’t identify anyone working on the film, whether cast or crew, as anyone who ended up working on Doctor Who. If anyone else can, I’ll happily resign and turn in my nerd card. As interesting asides, though, Patty Boyd, future wife of George Harrison and Eric Clapton, who inspired “Something” and “Layla”, two of the greatest love songs ever written, appears as an extra. So does Phil Collins, whose career with Genesis will probably prompt me to revisit him a few “Cities Made of Song” installments down the line.

In turning to the music itself here (how I yammer on), I actually cheat a little in technically focusing on one song as is this segment’s remit, but at the same time covering the entirety of the album too. Because it’s hard to just love one song here; side ‘A’ of the LP is packed with instant classics, from the title track to “I Should Have Known Better”, “If I Fell”, “And I Love Her”, and “Can’t Buy Me Love”. I’m also quite partial to “Tell Me Why”, since I’m a sucker for anything in which all three of the Beatles’ best voices harmonize; sorry, Ringo. The obverse side, i.e. that which isn’t the soundtrack for the film, doesn’t really match the first. It has, erm, “Any Time at All”? I like “Things We Said Today” and “I’ll Be Back” well enough, but neither are classics, and a lot of side ‘B’ is just filler.

When the time came to pick just one to headline this installment, though, I settled on the namesake track, because A.) it’s in the title and B.) it’s flippin’ fantastic. The famous opening chord is a great stinger to open the song, which swift proves to be a real toe-tapper. There’s nothing quite like the bizarre, sped-up guitar solo backed by piano near its middle, either. In its lyrics, it’s about relief from weariness, an expression of simple joy and catharsis. And aside from that, it’s really not that deep. I can’t make a commentary on the Cold War politics of the day like I did with the last, because it’s not that type of song. It’s pop music at its simplest and most enjoyable, and listening to it still helps to take a load off, 54 years later.

Rock on.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 June 2018.)

The Dalek Invasion of Earth [Doctor Who, Story 10]

The Dalek Invasion of Earth by Terry Nation

21 November - 26 December 1964

It’s been a long time coming, this’un. It’s not as if it was a chore, really, though the story is on the longer side and thus a little tougher to write up. What am I ever going to do with next season’s Dalek epic when I get there? Question for another day.

The Daleks’ inaugural outing was fine generally, but it left me a little cold, as readers might recall. The fact that The Dalek Invasion of Earth was heralded a classic in the same way left me suspecting that I was due for a repeat and I didn’t greet the idea warmly. Imagine my delight when the story rolled along at a fine pace and genuinely thrilled at some points. Huzzah!

The obvious thing to remark upon is the fact that the Second World War allegories I noted last time are now far more explicit. The story resembles not a few speculative histories I’ve read of an Allied defeat, from the propaganda broadcasts to the rubble-strewn streets reminiscent of the Blitz. Considering how much closer this serial is in time to the Second World War than it is today brings home the poignancy of the comparison, to the point where it almost feels gauche to slap the (literal) tin-pot robots into the image. But it works; just. Taking the hugely popular Daleks and moving them to a more familiar setting is a really clever (if staggeringly obvious) move and definitely displays some savvy audience pandering on the program’s part.

It is a stylish story from the start, the suspenseful direction in World’s End selling for us the grimness of this world from the instant the Roboman drowns himself in the Thames and we cut to the rather morbid sign which the TARDIS lands next to. The first cliffhanger with the Dalek emerging from the river is famous for a reason, even if it is kind of goofy. We’re swift introduced to the brave human freedom fighters, a couple of whom leave an impact. Dortmun is probably the best among these. His almost childish fascination with his pet project does much to endear, and his brave last stand against the Daleks tugs at the heartstrings. Though considering that the freed prisoners and Robomen at the end of the serial seem to have no trouble clobbering Daleks with rocks, one’s left wondering what the point of the bombs was to begin with.

Jenny and Larry are fine enough, too, though they mostly shine due to their accompanying Barbara and Ian respectively. Jenny’s quite feisty, and it’s a regretful moment when she seems to crumble so easily while briefly in Dalek captivity. Barbara flattening a pack of Daleks with a truck with Jenny at her side was a good moment for a fist-pump. Larry’s sad demise at the hands of his lobotomized brother was one of the more touching moments in this story, one that sticks in the mind for a while. David Campbell, sad to say, leaves far less of an impression. It’s hard to sell Susan’s departure with an unremarkable beau like this one, and more on that in a bit.

Talking of humankind, it’s a poignant and realistic touch that, though humanity generally is shown rather positively here, the serial doesn’t shy away from the inevitability that some people will always try to profit off of hardship and disaster in showing us the sniveling Dalek collaborators as well as Ashton the black market dealer. Ashton gets an untimely end at the claws of the rather silly-looking Slyther, but the two women who turn Barbara and Jenny over to the Daleks never have their comeuppance. Not all collaborators do.

The Daleks themselves are a little more menacing this time around; in their first outing they’re underhanded, skulking around semi-helplessly inside their city. Here they are the masters of Earth, and are sure to make us hear all about it. Their voices are totally off, though. It barely sounds like they’re being altered at all so much as the actors voicing them are just raising and lowering their pitch unconvincingly. Their “plan” is pretty ridiculous, but we’re forced to take it in stride in light of the surrounding drama. The “static electricity” dishes look a bit silly, though it is thoughtful of the writer to offer at least a token explanation for why they can move off of metal surfaces this time. Still, it does beg the question of why the Daleks in the original serial didn’t just use these dishes too, if they’re “a million years” in the future and existed “late” in Dalek history. I’m beginning to suspect already that trying to read continuity between these early Dalek stories is a bit like Sisyphus pushing his boulder up a hillside. If we substitute boulder for “Dalek” and hillside for “a flight of stairs”. Hm. That joke doesn’t really work. Moving on.

Now our regulars! As mentioned passingly above, Barbara is as splendid as usual, very earnestly trying to fit into the resistance and help where she can. Her joyride out of the museum is one of my favorite Barbara moments so far. Ian also does well with his time in the spotlight when he has it, even if it’s not really his show. And Susan, poor old Susan. I’m not tremendously impressed with how she’s written out here, even if I am at least happy she gets to do things before she’s dropped off. Goodbye, star child. See you in the review threads.

Last, the Doctor, with whom I was somewhat more impressed. Hartnell seems to have transitioned comfortably into the “leading man” role by this point, for once not just looking after his companions or trying to retrieve the TARDIS safely, but trying earnestly to stop the bad guys and do good by others. His cheek when one Dalek remarks that they control the Earth and he says “Not for long,” almost as an aside, is really wonderful. And he means it, too. This is the first time that the Doctor sets himself up as “the man who stops the monsters”. And it’s great.

Sera’s Say:

Joining me from here onward is my girlfriend, Sera. A one-time regular viewer of the New Series, we recently caught up on the Capaldi years, which emboldened her sufficiently to the idea of joining me for the remainder of my marathon. After catching her up on Season 1 (but judiciously skipping The Keys of Marinus and The Sensorites for now if only because I can’t be bothered watching them again so soon) she sat down with me for Season 2 and we’re currently up to The Web Planet. Say “Hello, Sera.”

Anyway, she rather enjoyed this one for the most part, and particularly thought that the segment without dialogue where Barbara and company run through the abandoned London avoiding Daleks was particularly stylish and interesting. Larry’s death affected her as much as it did me, though we both somehow missed Phil the Roboman’s last word. We were probably chattering a little; oops. While on the topic, she was also amused by the Robomen’s obvious resemblance to the Cybermen, down to the headpieces. One does have to wonder if there was some sort of subconscious echo in the Cybermen’s design two years on from this.

Sera was even more put out with Susan’s departure than I was, since she was more attached to the character. The issue with Susan getting the home that she so desires, Sera says, is that the home she’s given is on a shattered planet with some dude she barely seems to know a thing about. It seemed like a disservice to Susan in her eyes, and had the knock-on effect of making the Doctor’s iconic speech (which she had heard before) a little less affecting than it might have been otherwise.

Let’s hope The Rescue leaves her a bit less cold!

Memorable Dialogue:

“You poor pathetic creatures.”

“You’re a genius!” “Yes, there are very few of us left.”

“Just the beginning,” to the evocative chimes of Big Ben

“One day, I shall come back…”

Miserable Dialogue:

Insert any time the Daleks talk over one another here.

Also insert snortling about “oral control” and the “bomb shaft” here.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 19 June 2018.)

Planet of Giants [Doctor Who, Story 9]

Planet of Giants by Louis Marks

31 October - 14 November 1964

With my Season One ruminations safely tucked away for now, I turn my attention to the next milestone. Our first stop along the way is this really odd little story. I’ve actually watched and reviewed this once before, as part of the randomized Who marathon I attempted last summer. My general thoughts on the serial haven’t really changed much, but it has gone up in my relative estimation since I now have something of a better feel for the Hartnell era in general. I’ll also happily flatter myself by saying that my writing capabilities have expanded somewhat since then, so another pass at reviewing it can hardly go amiss. Now, there’s quite a bit to say about Planet of Giants, including its status as something of a leftover from Season One. I’m given to understand that this was part of the same production block, and that it was one of the first episode concepts broached during the conceptualization of the first season. Fortunately, what comes off is a fairly serviceable story with some great moments.

If I really had to compare it, I’d call this the Edge of Destruction of Season Two. It’s peculiar in the fact that, like that serial, it’s somewhat truncated in length, features as its chief motivator of tension a technical fault with the TARDIS (give or take a definite article, per Susan), and features no science fiction concepts apart from the ship itself. What proceeds is sort of an odd duck of a story, and one which I feel doesn’t have that many close counterparts aside from The Edge of Destruction. Well, whatever its status, I found it fun to watch again. The sets of the magnified world range from alright to amazing, and the bugs from a bit silly (the worm) to downright creepy (the fly!), and in general the design and framing of the setting is some of the best work the program has managed thus far. Ray Cusick really was something else. The “otherness” and menace that a familiar, domestic setting can exude when viewed from the perspective shown here is quite genius and, like I noted early on last season, weds the familiar and the alien together to great effect as Doctor Who often seems to do.

The regulars appear to be having fun. Barbara gets the best and worst of it, with the obvious distress and pain she’s in close to the end really quite upsetting to watch, though not in an unwatchable sort of way. I did find myself pleading mentally with her to speak up and tell the others about her situation, but her desire not to distract from solving the DN6 issue speaks well of her character. The guest stars don’t make a very strong impression (aside from the adorable cat), but Smithers at least is played well. Forester sadly lacks the competent villainy to match his avarice and comes across as a bit of an idiot. The DN6 plot itself is interesting as the program’s first flirtation with environmentalism, an issue which was still quite young at the time but which Who will touch again, especially in the Pertwee era.

All in all, a nice little story, though one which could have been served better by a more interesting guest cast. I’d certainly recommend it.

No dialogue segment this time. The Dalek Invasion of Earth is next, and I’d much rather get cracking on that than spending my time trawling through transcripts!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 25 January 2018.)

Doctor Who, Season One

So, after a mammoth run of forty-two episodes, double the length of a modern series, I’ve successfully watched through all of Season One of Doctor Who. It’s honestly hard to say if I’m even watching Doctor Who yet; for every familiar element that begins to crop up, a curious dead end or idiosyncrasy of 1960s television meets it to remind me that I’m far outside of my element. Whatever the case, I’m enjoying myself, and, one hopes, getting the knack of how to watch and digest the sort of program that Who was at the start of its original run. Since I’ve met this milestone, I thought I would reflect on the progress the program is making and sum up the scores I’ve been entering on my top-secret spreadsheet all this time. Expect similar posts to this one at the close of each run of stories.

To begin with, An Unearthly Child gives things an electric starting point. The premiere episode of the serial really knocks it out of the park in a big way, which probably did wonders for tiding the program over until the Dalek craze really kicked into gear. Our four regulars introduce themselves with very good performances (and in the case of one regular, probably her best) and sell for the viewer the bizarre world which they set foot into. Even past this episode, the remaining three of the serial hold up well, in my estimation (which I’m well aware is higher than that of many who watch them). If anything, I appreciate them on the merits of what they’re trying to do, in expanding upon the conflict of the first episode and offering the TARDIS crew a trial by fire, of sorts.

The Daleks almost carries itself by reputation alone, as its historical significance is second only to the serial preceding it. On its own, it’s a solid serial, but one weighed down by a frustratingly slow back half. Still, there’s much to love about it beyond just rescuing the program. The Dalek city on Skaro is wonderfully creepy, the musical score is good, and the Daleks themselves look so fantastic that their basic look has stayed fresh for fifty-four years and going. It stands on its own two feet. Or its Dalek bumps, at the very least.

The Edge of Destruction is profoundly bizarre, but still pleasing to watch. The short runtime and constrained setting make for some uneven writing at times, but it has its share of brilliant moments. More importantly, it marks something of a turning point for the Doctor as a character and for the show generally, as it is the point where the people who accompany him stop being hostages and start to be companions. (Well, more or less, I know full well that Tegan’s coming, somewhere down the line…)

Marco Polo carries with it a fantastic degree of confidence for what it’s trying to do, and I couldn’t help but to admire it for that. Its sumptuous scenery and fair story beats definitely helped it along the way, no matter its status as a lost story or its length. An admirable assortment of guest stars fill out the backdrop for the first really “epic” story of Doctor Who, despite the fact that very little of what we see here will be part of the show’s DNA in the long run.

I think that The Keys of Marinus tries, but it doesn’t really help. This seems like a less competent attempt to do what Marco Polo was doing, only with a science fiction backdrop. This epic falls somewhat short, but it does at least have some fair moments to its credit. The excellent drama of the city of Millennius in the final two episodes and the sheer creepiness of the Voord more or less make up for the dreary middle portions of the serial to balance it out to something merely average.

By contrast, The Aztecs comes along like a breath of fresh air to provide 100 minutes of perfect historical drama. For all that its use of white actors in brownface is both badly dated and unfortunate to watch, the serial makes up for it with wonderfully brisk pacing and standout performances from just about all of the cast. I’m almost apprehensive when I note that this is just about as flawless as a historical can get, because it means that almost anything from now on is bound to disappoint.

The Sensorites is probably only as dreaded as it is because of the act it has to follow. It’s true that it’s a little slow, especially later on, but it’s really just bland, not bad. The first two episodes are wonderfully creepy and atmospheric, despite a few problems and some wooden acting. It’s possible to appreciate The Sensorites nonetheless, if only for its status as a portent of things to come.

And last, The Reign of Terror, which rounds out the season on another uninspiring but inoffensive note. Like the last, I found it difficult to say many good things or bad things about this serial, only a few of each. It certainly doesn’t capture the formula of historical it’s trying to emulate. I’m looking forward to Spooner’s future historicals, which I suspect might suit his talents a little better.

Overall, Season One struggles to find its feet in some places, but in others performs magnificent feats of competence which capture the imagination and promise great things to come. The production team who put this all together had to have been wizards to happen upon a formula as timeless and flexible as this. At this point, they clearly still haven’t learned how to use it to its fullest effect, but in all honesty, maybe we still haven’t.

Here’s the score breakdown:

An Unearthly Child - 9.00
An Unearthly Child - 10.00
The Cave of Skulls - 9.00
The Forest of Fear - 8.00
The Firemaker - 9.00

The Daleks - 7.14
The Dead Planet - 8.00
The Survivors - 8.00
The Escape - 8.00
The Ambush - 7.00
The Expedition - 7.00
The Ordeal - 4.00
The Rescue - 8.00

The Edge of Destruction - 8.50
The Edge of Destruction - 8.00
The Brink of Disaster - 9.00

Marco Polo - 9.00
The Roof of the World - 9.00
The Singing Sands - 10.00
Five Hundred Eyes - 9.00
The Wall of Lies - 8.00
Rider from Shang-Tu - 9.00
Mighty Kublai Khan - 9.00
Assassin at Peking - 9.00

The Keys of Marinus - 6.17
The Sea of Death - 6.00
The Velvet Web - 7.00
The Screaming Jungle - 4.00
The Snows of Terror - 6.00
Sentence of Death - 8.00
The Keys of Marinus - 6.00

The Aztecs - 10.00
The Temple of Evil - 10.00
The Warriors of Death - 10.00
The Bride of Sacrifice - 10.00
The Day of Darkness - 10.00

The Sensorites - 6.17
Strangers in Space - 7.00
The Unwilling Warriors - 7.00
Hidden Danger - 6.00
A Race Against Death - 5.00
Kidnap - 5.00
A Desperate Venture - 7.00

The Reign of Terror - 5.83
A Land of Fear - 6.00
Guests of Madame Guillotine - 5.00
A Change of Identity - 6.00
The Tyrant of France - 6.00
A Bargain of Necessity - 5.00
Prisoners of Conciergerie - 7.00

Best episode: The Temple of Evil (The Aztecs, pt. 1) - 10.00
Worst episode: The Ordeal (The Daleks, pt. 6) - 4.00

Season One average: 7.50

Best guest performance: John Ringham as Tlotoxl (The Aztecs)

Best special effect: The first TARDIS dematerialization (An Unearthly Child)

Best musical score: The Daleks (Tristram Cary)

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 23 January 2018.)

The Reign of Terror [Doctor Who, Story 8]

The Reign of Terror by Dennis Spooner

8 August - 12 September 1964

You know, I was given to understand that Dennis Spooner was the “comedy historical” writer. It kind of caught me off-guard when his first outing on the program was more of the Lucarotti historical vein. I mean, it has to be said that it hardly holds a candle to the first two historicals of this season, but it’s by no means bad. The Reign of Terror does suffer from something of a reverse-Sensorites problem where it takes a long time to get its good bits rolling, with parts of the second, third, and fourth episodes containing some of the most pointless twists and turns I’ve seen so far. After a while, incident for incident’s sake does clear out a little, and some good drama finally seeps its way in. The moral of “revolution is bad, perhaps” comes across a little lukewarm to me, but at the end of the day it’s more or less secondary to what is chiefly a historical romp where William Hartnell gets to have a lot of fun wearing silly outfits.

This time the Doctor, out of all the cast, gets to be the star of the show for six weeks. While his companions bumble around in Paris, he seems to delight in talking circles around everyone he meets. And to be fair, he does look spiffy in that regional governor outfit. I was sort of dreading another romantic interest subplot for Barbara, but mercifully, it’s cut off when Leon reveals his true colors and tries to have Ian killed. His subsequent death at the hands of Jules sets up an interesting bit of conflict between Barbara and Ian, albeit one that expires a little too quickly for my liking. I’ll never complain about having my expectations subverted, at the very least. Susan, sadly, fares quite poorly in this serial, especially when held in contrast with The Sensorites. Her complete loss of hope in the face of her would-be prison escape with Barbara because there are rats in their escape route is a much bemoaned moment, and… yeah, I’m not a fan either. I’m sure I’m missing context for some production detail or another that made it difficult or impossible, but couldn’t David Whitaker have kept her writing more even across the season? It’s a little disheartening watching her get jerked around like this.

The guest cast acquits itself quite well. Keith Anderson sounded electric as Robespierre, befitting of the intense and charismatic figure he was. I’m sad that most of his performance is in the two episodes which haven’t been preserved, but at least we get to see him work for a minute or two in the final one. James Cairncross is also very good as Lemaitre. He plays him with such a keen menace through the first episodes that his reveal as James Sterling close to the end comes as a genuine surprise.

To leave the characters aside, there are a few really good bits of production work that deserve highlighting, most especially the beginning of Guests of Madame Guillotine. The silent overview of Paris and the still shot of the eponymous instrument of death before its blade falls to the roars of a crowd sets the atmosphere for this story very well. It’s also worth noting that Doctor Who’s first location shooting takes place during this serial, which certainly lends the setting a more “real” dimension, even if it is just a body double of Bill Hartnell walking along in silence. I couldn’t help but to notice that fire was placed prominently in-shot throughout much of this serial, mostly because the odd, black halo it creates on the black-and-white video. I wonder if its use was intentional, a metaphor for the “flames of discontent”, or violence and fervor, or something like that. The incidental music unfortunately grated on me more than once. The mix was awfully high, which sometimes made it blare over scenes and make them difficult to listen to. And besides, there’s only so many variations on La Marseillaise a gal can hear before getting a little tired of it.

So although it lent a few very good moments, The Reign of Terror didn’t really stand out. Perhaps it would have fared a little better if two of its episodes weren’t missing, but the other four honestly didn’t stick out all that much more. It’s a fairly inoffensive note to leave the season on, but not a whole lot else.

Before we reach the Planet of Giants, I need to wrap up my thoughts on Season One. I’m sure you’ll all relish the chance to discover how I rated each story. See you soon!

Memorable Dialogue

"I suppose you think you're very clever." "Well, without any undue modesty, yes!"

“What a memory I shall leave behind if this thing lasts…”

Miserable Dialogue

None again!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 23 January 2018.)

The Sensorites [Doctor Who, Story 7]

The Sensorites by Peter R. Newman

20 June - 1 August 1964

Well, I don’t see what all the fuss was about.

Before even getting into the story proper, the writer’s credit made me curious, since I didn’t recognize the name. I was equal parts amused, impressed, and a little terrified that Doctor Who fans had not only tracked down biographical details of Newman, apparently known as one of the program’s most obscure writers, but had made a documentary about him. Who fans will really go to the ends of the earth to chronicle its production history, won’t they? I’m glad Mr. Newman got some recognition for his work on the program, brief though it might have been.

All in all, I fail to see this as a marathon sinker; true, it dragged in some of the later half, but it’s hardly the worst offender so far in that regard (Daleks…). The first two episodes were quite good, and the rest weren’t bad either. I see shades of things to come in The Sensorites, and not just because of their obvious influence on the Ood. The TARDIS crew turning up on a human spaceship in the far future and getting drawn into the politics of a misunderstood race of alien beings sounds quite a bit like The Frontier in Space to me. All of these story conceits will prove to be common in the program going forward, but they’re all novel here. This proves to be another bizarre case of backwards deja vu where I’m seeing things for the millionth time when they’re actually brand new. This must be how River Song feels.

Like some other six-parters, this one seems to broadly be split between one subplot in the first two episodes, and another in the last four. The first, on Maitland’s spaceship, is by far the better half of the serial, with the creepy, claustrophobic atmosphere setting the alien tone of the story in a way which the back four episodes fail to deliver upon in some respects. My only real complaint about the spacebound portion of the story is that the sound mix is occasionally a little overpowering and the high-pitched noise the Sensorite ships made was annoying. Special mention goes to Stephen Dartnell as John, who frankly acts circles around Maitland and Carol throughout the serial but especially in the first two episodes. Also interesting is the fact that Maitland seems to take Barbara and Ian’s status as time travelers totally in stride. I’m not sure if there’s meant to be an implication that time travel is more or less normal in the 28th century (hey, it is in Star Trek), or if I’m reading too much into it. Susan also gets some far better moments here than before, and frankly this is the first time since An Unearthly Child that she’s shown serious promise as a character. The exploration of her psychic abilities is very neat. I can’t help but to notice the Doctor’s line where he claims to be able to read some of Ian’s thoughts. It comes across as a joke, but it’s interesting when you consider that he turns out to be actually telepathic some time later. Her row with the Doctor picks up on some threads left hanging by the first episode, way back when; his proclamation that he and Susan have “never had an argument” is frankly kind of ridiculous, but I think we’re meant to realize as much. The only drawback to this plot thread is that Susan seems to be depressingly quick to back down and acquiesce to her grandfather’s point of view.

Anyway, the Sense-Sphere is cool, albeit a downgrade after the cool spaceship scenes earlier on. The sets look nice, and the Sensorite costumes do too, even if they look a little less convincing on a brightly-lit set than they did on the spaceship. The revelation in the last episode that human holdouts skulking around in the sewer was a very good twist, all told; I certainly didn’t see it coming. Evidently Newman based this story in part on his experiences as a POW in a Japanese camp in Burma during the Second World War, but the only parallel that comes to mind in this story are the three humans in the aqueduct and their tragically prolonged “war” against the Sensorites. The main storyline about the Administrator’s plot to overthrow the First Elder is a little tough to follow. My chief complaint would be that despite having all the time in the world to wrap things up neatly, its resolution gets crammed into the last five minutes of the serial and we don’t even get to see him get his comeuppance aside as the subject of a brief line from the First Elder. If this had been paced a little better and wrapped up in a more satisfactory way, I feel this would have been a stronger serial overall. Decent story though it is, its most noteworthy point remains the fact that it signals things to come.

The Reign of Terror is behead of us!

Memorable Dialogue

“Yes, it all started out as a mild curiosity in a junkyard, and now it's turned out to be quite a great spirit of adventure, don't you think?”

“I don't make threats. But I do keep promises. And I promise you I shall cause you more trouble than you bargained for!”

“At night the sky is a burned orange, and the leaves on the trees are bright silver...”

“All they had left was the game they played. The game of war.”

Miserable Dialogue

None!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 January 2018.)

The Aztecs [Doctor Who, Story 6]

The Aztecs by John Lucarotti

23 May - 13 June 1964

There’s probably no point in pretending that I didn’t love this, is there? Here John Lucarotti puts in a second highly capable addition to Who, one which justifiably ends up on most people’s marathon selections. (They, of course, are the lucky ones - I have to marathon The Sensorites next week.)

First and foremost, the setting. This is the second of the Hartnell historicals, though it’s far disparate from Marco Polo in space and time. Mesoamerica is actually (much like Barbara) my area of choice where it comes to historical study, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I inevitably have nitpicks with some of the facets of Aztec culture on display here (to say nothing of the fact that most of the actors are in some form of brownface or another, which is unfortunate). It’d probably be a waste of time, since this serial really does far more right than it does wrong. For one, the costumes look fantastic, especially the eagle and jaguar warrior raiment some of the characters wear. It’s clear that Verity and her crew made the most of having this one filmed at Television Centre, because the sets are almost as gorgeous as the ones on Marco Polo which, yes, includes the matte paintings standing in for the backdrop of (I assume) Tenochtitlan. Even if they lack the three-dimensionality to convince a modern viewer, they still look great. Oh, and the direction is phenomenal. The camerawork is far more dynamic than I was expecting for this period.

But enough about the set and costume design. Barbara, Barbara, Barbara. I knew her reputation coming in, but seeing it firsthand is a wholly different matter. Barbara Wright is swift becoming one of my favorite companions ever at this point, and I only expect my estimation to go up as the next season or so passes. Jacqueline Hill steals the show here, and has the benefit of also having both John Ringham and William Hartnell to bounce off of. When any combination of the three of these is on screen, the story quickly jumps from watchable to riveting without fail. That isn’t to say the others slack; Keith Pyott plays the sensitive, suffering Autloc well, and Margot Van der Burgh is likeable as Cameca. The only real bore is Tonila, but by the looks of it Walter Randall will appear on screen in Who many more times to acquit himself better. William Russell appears to be having fun, but poor Susan gets sidelined yet again. I don’t really blame Carole Ann Ford for leaving in four stories’ time. No matter the high quality of the rest of the cast, Barbara is the star. Her poise as “Yetaxa” is enchanting, and it’s only more so in the first episode when her companions see her in this guise for the first time, before she lowers it and breaks into a delighted grin. The moment at the start of The Bride of Sacrifice when she saves Ian’s life by threatening Tlotoxl’s is possibly the best in the entire serial.

Also quite entertaining is the warrior Ixta’s feud with Ian. Ixta seems to snap between being best buddies with Ian to plotting to kill him at a moment’s notice; it’s clear that he’s kind of a meathead whose best ideas come from Tlotoxl or, on one occasion, the Doctor. The moment when Ian takes him down with a Vulcan nerve pinch is frankly pretty funny, but doesn’t beat the wordless, final face-off between the two atop the pyramid at the climax of the final episode. I actually gasped when Ian sent him tumbling to his death! You don’t get that on the program nowadays. Also deserving of some spotlight here is Autloc and his tragic devotion to Barbara. He seems decent, so we’re led to feel sorry that he’s lied to by “Yetaxa” for much of this serial, a sentiment which Barbara appears to share. Still, I felt glad for him when he left to find his own enlightenment in the wilds. Hopefully it ended well for him. Oh, and lest I forget, Cameca and the Doctor. One certainly doesn’t see Hartnell’s Doctor as a romantic figure, but he seems genuinely smitten with the Aztec lady here, even if he plays it somewhat close to his chest. It’s hilarious how flustered he looks when he realizes he’s inadvertently proposed to her, letting his mouth run far ahead of his mind. I’m amused to note some unintentional prescience in Cameca remarking on the Doctor’s “young soul”, and by his remark that the people in the Garden of Pensioners must be bored out of their minds! How true. Their last farewell is a nice, emotional beat, too. He looks to be trying to stay stony and detached, but I can’t help but to read into this a certain reluctance to his demeanor. Alas, it wasn’t to be.

The central theme of this story is justifiably quite famous, since it has considerable implications for many future stories of the program. Almost from the moment Barbara and Susan step out into Yetaxa’s tomb, it’s clear that the serial is about to explore the matter of changing history. This matter was curiously avoided in Marco Polo, where the main cast bum around with big-name historical characters seemingly without worry that they might mistakenly cause changes to the timeline. Farewell Great Macedon dealt with it a little more closely, taking a similarly firm stance on the issue of changing the past, despite the Doctor’s obvious efforts in that story to prolong the lives of Alexander and his comrades. There’s no mixing of messages here: time cannot be rewritten. Well… not so far in the future, this is amended to something more like “time shouldn’t be rewritten”, or “time can be rewritten but only in the future”, or “time cannot be rewritten but alien civilizations don’t count”. Am I going on a bit? This precept opens up many, many cans of worms, ones which I think must have played a part in the demise of these pure historicals two years down the line. It’s difficult to create drama in these historical serials that isn’t underwritten in some way by the reluctance to portray changes in human history. The desire not to upend Doctor Who’s “present day” is understandable, but it also leads to infuriating changes like Moffat more or less retconning every alien invasion that happened in the Davies era, or more recently the conclusion to the Monks trilogy. But I’m getting far, far ahead of myself. The Aztecs works its way around the problem, more or less, by giving us in the person of Autloc someone for whom the TARDIS crew can make a difference. This is the same sentiment echoed decades down the line in The Fires of Pompeii: “You failed to save a civilization, but at least you helped one man.” This works. But I can’t help feeling that even this early on, in the historicals’ golden age, the seeds of their destruction have already been sown.

Pray for me. The Sensorites is up next.

Oh, and lookie. I’ve renamed the headers for this little segment below.

Memorable Dialogue

“Orkloc.” “Autloc!” (Which I think along with “Day-lecks” has to be up there with the silliest mispronunciation a character in Who has ever uttered.)

“You can’t rewrite history, not one line!”

“Barbara, what you are trying to do is impossible.” “Not Barbara. Yetaxa.”

“Why shall I use divine power while human ability suffices?”

“Drink first.”

“Well, somebody had to make his mind up for him.”

“Think of me…”

Miserable Dialogue

Uhm, none! Congratulations!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 January 2018.)

The Keys of Marinus [Doctor Who, Story 5]

The Keys of Marinus by Terry Nation

11 April - 16 May 1964

Well now. I think it’s time to ring the new year in with a long delayed review, since I’m nowhere near done with Season One. You’ll notice that I’ve decided to abandon the more structured episode-by-episode format to talk about the whole kit and kaboodle at once. This might get kind of questionable with some longer serials, which I intend to break up over a few posts; the first occasion when I’ll probably do that is during The Daleks’ Master Plan a couple seasons from now. I think the change will otherwise keep things looking a little neater, so I’m sticking with it. I chose a fine story for it, when you consider how piecemeal The Keys of Marinus is. This story is Terry Nation’s second contribution to the Who canon (in the non-binding sense of the word). It’s actually sort of odd watching something of his that doesn’t have the Daleks in it. I understand he was heavily involved in Blake’s 7, of course, among other things, but the association’s still there in my mind. And how does this offering compare with the last? Well…

It’s hard to say that this story suffers from a lack of ambition. Cramming a new conflict and location into just about every 25-minute chunk is enough to keep one watching through this at a decent speed, but the results aren’t always satisfactory. The first episode is quite good, with the charming modelwork surrounding the pyramid and the glass beach being one of the story’s best design points (though there are quite a few). Ray Cusick is frankly on point for all six weeks of this, so credit where it’s very much due. I should also make mention of Norman Kay’s incidental music work, since I’ve made plenty of mumbling about music outside of the show and haven’t said a thing about its score. Silly me. A creepy-sounding piece with brass and xylophones plays during the model shots of the beach during the first and final episodes and marks another memorable little detail for this story; you could call it the “Marinus theme”, I guess, since it plays during the title card and later once we return to the same view. Really, quite a few things are individually fantastic about this story, but it doesn’t come together as well as I’d probably like. Things start off okay, with the creepiness of the Voord skulking around and the cool location setting up a cool atmosphere. But we leave it behind in a bit of a quick and perfunctory manner, sending us along to the next.

The Velvet Web has its strong moments, too. The cast is sent along to Morphoton, which might be one of the silliest location names I’ve ever heard (and considering that this is a Terry Nation story, that’s saying something). The slow reveal that there’s something terribly amiss in this place is executed well, with Barbara’s mounting dismay as she sees the disrepair of the place while her fellows cannot heightening the tension marvellously. Jacqueline Hill knocks it out of the park, as always. Carole Ann Ford gets in a good acting moment herself with the way Susan looks genuinely wounded at her “dress” being called out as filthy rags. The double sight is used cleverly through this episode, especially during shots which might otherwise have been expensive or time consuming to make. Seeing the Doctor look at random bits and bobs and proudly declaring them to be scientific instruments is quite funny. The Morphos themselves are fantastically creepy-looking, their sinister grip on the humans of the city belied by their unassuming stature. I kept finding myself snickering about the fact that they sort of look like Gary the Snail from SpongeBob Squarepants. Still, both their evil little monologues and their cries of pain as Barbara smashes their jars open (oops, I wonder if she was meant to actually break that one, those props look expensive) are charming and make for one of the most memorable parts of the serial.

The Screaming Jungle isn’t quite as riveting, I’m sad to say. The creepy sound effects and the design of the idol are probably the best parts of this episode, since nothing else really comes together right. Darrius is the least impressive supporting character we’ve seen so far and doesn’t get to do much but rasp mysteriously before falling over dead after being choked out by vines. His maze looks a little cluttered, and looks sort of dinky and silly until you see that warrior’s swing put a serious dent in the floor and say “oh, God, that’s a real axe”. I’m happy to leave the jungle behind when Barbara and Ian are speedily ushered onward to the next point in their journey. The unforgiving tundra’s a little more convincing, and one at least feels that our regulars are in real danger here, not just from the cold. Vasor is pretty much instantly untrustworthy, especially around Barbara, which made me squirm sufficiently. I can’t say I’m really pleased to watch interactions like that on screen, but at the very least he has his comeuppance by the end of the episode. It’s a mark of favor that Nation has at least gotten us attached to two supporting characters when Altos (by gravy, somebody get that man some pants) and Sabetha turn up again here, and we (or at least I) are relieved to see them again. Once they’ve escaped from a cave and ditched Vasor, they’re off to the penultimate stage of their quest.

Ian arrives at the scene first, before going down from the lightest tap in the universe. When he comes to, we learn that he’s been accused of murder, and worse still, is more or less already doomed to the gibbet before he even has a chance to defend himself. The upside-down nature of justice in Millennius (groan) is clearly wrong to us, but the local bureaucracy seems very sure of itself nonetheless. The man is a friend of Altos’, and another questant seeking the titular keys, which makes us suspicious from the off that something’s up. Or, well, it would if we hadn’t already seen somebody frame Ian for the murder to start with. Gripes aside, the episode and a half spent in Millennius is probably the strongest portion of the whole serial. Seeing the Doctor turn up in the midst of this unfortunate situation is actually a big relief, and his work as Ian’s advocate seems very fitting for the man we saw outwit Kal in the first episodes of the series. The courtroom drama itself is interesting. Susan’s predicament and the complicity of the wife of one of the conspirators also unfold quite tensely, and it’s hugely pleasing when the Doctor emerges from the shadows to gloat at the captured Eyesen and bails Ian out of his situation at last. The cast leaves the place behind to close the circle and finish the journey.

Arriving back at the pyramid by the beach, I think we’re meant to read Yartek’s replacement of Arbitan (groan) as something of a suspenseful moment. There’s a little problem in that the audience has already known Arbitan was dead for five episodes now. I sort of wish this had been left ambiguous at the end of The Sea of Death, since I feel it might have improved this moment somewhat. Seeing the Voord again here, I’m reminded that they’re hardly in this story, despite their headliner status as the chief antagonists. This too is a little disappointing; there was a lot of interesting potential in exploring this race a little more closely, so I guess it isn’t much surprise that numerous off-screen adventures explore them a bit more. Regardless, the resolution is nice. The Doctor proudly declares that “machines can make laws, but they cannot preserve justice” as the avaricious Yartek places the false key from the jungle in the Conscience and sets off a tremendous explosion. It’s a pleasing conclusion to this long morality play, all told, as is our goodbye to Altos and Sabetha. One hopes the happy couple had a nice life after all this drama.

The Keys of Marinus (that being the serial, not the episode) has its idiosyncrasies, between some of the weird narrative choices and the goofily descriptive names of people and places. Like the last Nation story I looked at, it drags at points, but ultimately it kind of works, in an ineffably charming sort of way. It’s by no means my favorite of the season, but as long as this sort of madly ambitious grasping for stories to tell continues, I think I’ll keep having fun with this segment of the marathon. No dialogue segment this time, nothing really stuck out to me and I don’t feel like a script-trawl. You’ll just have to starve of it, my dears.

The Aztecs is next. I’ll grab my macuahuitl.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 10 January 2018.)