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.)
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