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.)