Cities Made of Song, 1975

Cities Made of Song, 1975 - Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd

"Remember when you were young? You shone like the sun. / Shine on, you crazy diamond."​

What an incredibly special album "Wish You Were Here" is. And especially special to me. It has the unique distinction of being the first album I ever bought with my own money, albeit digitally, in the age of the iPod. That somewhat lacks the romance of going out and purchasing a real CD or vinyl, but in my defense, the suburb where I live doesn't have a single record store, and never has. It's a desert out here.

How I got to the point of buying this album is sort of a roundabout tale. These were the early days (over a decade ago now) when I was just barely, blearily becoming cognizant of music. I heard an interesting space rock track on the menu screen of a mod for the video game Civilization IV, and happened to see someone mention that it sounded like Shine On You Crazy Diamond. Curious, I investigated and heard Pink Floyd for the first time. Considering that I've written 60,000 words on Doctor Who since then, I think we have to assume that this caused some sort of irreparable damage...

I'm far from the only person who is a fan of this album, now somewhat of a classic, but critics at the time had a considerably more mixed view of "Wish You Were Here". Both Floyd fans and industry mags turned out in some numbers to declaim it as inferior to their last opus, "Dark Side of the Moon". Referring to Floyd's skills of instrumentation, Rolling Stone had this to say about their newest record:

"Their mastery of their tools peaks at competence. The illusion of complexity that caused their drooling legions to make wild claims of high-art accomplishment was actually nothing more than the skillful manipulation of elements so simple — the basic three chords everyone else uses — that any collection of bar hacks could grind out a note-for-note reproduction without difficulty."​

And further, on the album's central theme:

"[The record] is initially credible because it purports to confront the subject of Syd Barrett, the long and probably forever lost guiding light of the original Floyd. But the potential of the idea goes unrealized; they give such a matter-of-fact reading of the goddamn thing that they might as well be singing about Roger Waters’s brother-in-law getting a parking ticket. [...] Passion is everything of which Pink Floyd is devoid."​

You know, just in case you or anyone else needed further proof that Rolling Stone has never, in its fifty-year history, known what it's talking about.

It's true that Floyd had an uphill battle on their hands with making "Wish You Were Here". "Dark Side" was their first proper commercial success, and after the fairly rapturous response which that record received, the band knew that literally anything they did next would be cast in its shadow. "It was a very difficult period, I have to say," David Gilmour recalled in a 2010 interview. "All our childhood dreams had been sort of realised and we had the biggest selling records in the world, and all the things you got into it for. The girls, and the money, and the fame and all that stuff it was all... Everything had sort of come our way and you had to reassess what you were in it for thereafter, and it was a pretty confusing, and sort of empty time for a while."

Despite these troubles, there was a central idea behind the project that would carry Floyd through all the listlessness, the uncertainty, and the industry scorn, that of their friend and former bandmate Syd Barrett. Barrett's Floyd was a very different creature, more psychedelic and certainly less commercial-friendly. The band put out two mindbending but fantastic albums under Barrett's aegis before they were forced to ask him out of the band in 1968 because of his declining mental health. Floyd ended up making it big, but without Syd. This feeling of absence motivated this beautiful album, which serves both as a paean for a lost friend, and as a scorching criticism of the soulless music industry that Pink Floyd now found itself a part of.

This latter theme comes into view on the album's second track, Welcome to the Machine, a phenomenally cold and complex track which has an industrial sound a few years before industrial music even existed. One imagines being trapped and crushed in the cogs, just as Pink Floyd surely must have, suddenly expected to succeed in a world where their unique sense of artistry didn't matter as much as the bucks they would make. It transitions into the sounds of a jolly crowd and Have a Cigar, portraying the back-slapping world of fake smiles and record executives. The disdain that Roger Waters felt for the type of tweed-wearing, smoking old men the band now had to please is plain in the song's most memorable line: "The band is just fantastic, that is really what I think. Oh by the way, which one's Pink?"

For all the success and renown that they had earned, it's obvious that Pink Floyd wasn't happy to be there without Syd. His struggles with schizophrenia meant that staying with the group would have ultimately been destructive for him, but it wasn't exactly a happily ever after for Barrett when he left, either. During recording sessions for "Wish You Were Here" at the famous Abbey Road studios, the members of the band were shocked by a surprise visit from Barrett, whom none of them recognized at first, so totally had his appearance changed. Reportedly, when he realized, Roger Waters was so distressed that he cried. Barrett stuck around for a while, but without engaging with the music his old bandmates were recording, only to ultimately leave without saying goodbye later in the day during David Gilmour's wedding reception. As incredible as this story is, it's apparently true, and Barrett really did just happen to turn up while his ex-bandmates were recording their tribute to him.

It's fitting that the bulk of the album is devoted to this, really. The title track is painfully honest in its intent, and a beautiful song to boot. For my money, however, the sidereal, nine-part epic, Shine On You Crazy Diamond, is the more moving homage. Originally intended to be cut together into one song spanning an entire side of the LP, like Echoes four years earlier, this was instead split to bookend the album on either side. It works better that way, honestly, and the reprise of the song for parts VI-IX after Wish You Were Here is such a marvelous transition. If I had to pick what makes this song one of my all-time favorites, though, I would say that it has to be the balls of parts I-V to spend almost nine minutes building up the instrumental before we hear the first lyric. And what an instrumental it is! Gilmour's soaring guitar and Richard Wright's keyboards take pride of place in this surreal masterpiece, and the addition of saxophone adds just that little bit more flavor. Those lyrics, too, are so evocative and direct, really reading like a nostalgic cry for a time with a person they knew, a time which no longer exists.

So really, the sneers of the rock and pop music rags of the time matter not a jot. The compositional talent and performing talents of this group were unparalleled then, and are justifiably revered today. "Wish You Were Here" is a beautifully honest transitional album for this band, and remains one of my favorites.

"Well you wore out your welcome with random precision / Rode on the steel breeze. / Come on you raver, you seer of visions! / Come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine."​

I enjoyed this musical interlude very much. At any rate, it's back to the world of television for The Brain of Morbius next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 21 April 2021.)

The Android Invasion [Doctor Who, Story 83]

The Android Invasion by Terry Nation

22 November - 13 December 1975

"Is that finger loaded?"​

Until the opening titles rolled, I confess, I really thought The Keys of Marinus was Nation's only non-Dalek script on Doctor Who. But lo and behold, here comes The Android Invasion, a story about, err, an invasion of androids. What an odd duck from his catalog. Even Marinus felt like an earlier version of The Chase or The Daleks' Master Plan. This story has none of that out-of-this-world, golden age sci-fi serial feeling about it. There isn't even an alien planet in it. (Well, okay, there is, but it's not supposed to feel like it.)

This is another one of those stories that feels like a creature of two halves. The first two episodes are rather thrilling and mysterious, even though it must be said that the title spoils a part of the surprise. It's still unsettling watching all those unsmiling faces watch the Doctor and Sarah Jane pass through the fake Devesham, and the replacement Sarah herself is quite scary. Especially the bit when her face falls off!

That said, the wheels absolutely fall off this thing when the question of what's going on is answered - about halfway through the serial. Then it's just a matter of the Doctor trying to stop it, and there isn't really any part of that whole affair that demands one's attention. Benton and Harry Sullivan briefly return for what proves to be their last appearance on the series, but don't do much of anything since they're replaced by lookalikes for most of their screen time. (Er, wait, didn't we just have a story about that, too?)

The Kraals are definitely cool-looking aliens, but I can't help but to notice that they have the same motivation as the Zygons as well, namely that their home planet is dying and they want to take ours. Was someone cribbing notes? No, most probably we can chalk this up to both of these being stock sci-fi tropes, but I can't help but feel that Holmes was asleep at the desk for this one, or at the very least didn't have any other script for this spot.

So while fun initially, this one started to bore me in the second half, averaging into the least impressive Fourth Doctor serial so far. It's a pity. See you again in 1979, Terry.

This marks the end of the autumn portion of Season Thirteen, as the show goes on a holiday break for the first time over Christmas, to return in the new year. The music post for 1975 will be next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 21 April 2021.)

Pyramids of Mars [Doctor Who, Story 82]

Pyramids of Mars by Robert Holmes

25 October - 15 November 1975

"Evil? Your evil is my good. I am Sutekh the Destroyer. Where I tread I leave nothing but dust and darkness. I find that good."​

Doctor Who's descent down the Hammer Horror rabbit hole continues. Pyramids of Mars borrows slightly different aspects from the same "Curse of the Pharaohs" playbook that Tomb of the Cybermen plumbed several years earlier. This time, the production team goes all-in with borrowing pieces of ancient Egyptian mythology and aesthetics for its most grand and gothic production yet. I must confess to a degree of discomfort with the overt Orientalism of the story (in the Edward Said sense), the less than sensitive portrayal of the Egyptian Ibrahim Namin, and I'm as fed-up as always with ancient aliens nonsense insisting that non-Western ancient cultures owed their achievements to alien races.

Of course, some or all of these problems are present in the original material that Doctor Who is aping here. I would have liked if they'd been more critical of the tropes they were pastiching anyway. But for all Holmes's skill with satire, racial/post-colonial commentary doesn't seem to have been his forte.

All this complicates my feelings on Pyramids, which is otherwise a fantastically scary story. The Doctor is at his most ancient and unknowable, before being rendered absolutely impotent by the infinitely older power of Sutekh. This feels like a predecessor of The Curse of Fenric in many ways, between the period setting and the omnipotent horror from the dawn of time. It has to be said that while this story equals or even surpasses Fenric in style, it somewhat lags behind in substance.

The closest thing that comes to redeeming this particular shortcoming is the relationship between the Scarman brothers. Poor Laurence's vain hope that a part of his brother still remains is sweet, and very heartbreaking. Sarah's obvious distress at the situation is likewise quite compelling, especially when it founders against the Doctor's cold, alien detachment. "The Earth is not my home," he tells us at the beginning of the serial. Coming a little over a year after one of the Third Doctor's last lines, "The TARDIS brought me home," coming to terms with belonging on the planet he had so hated being confined to, it feels like a bit of a reversal - but perhaps an appropriate one.

I'm interested to remark upon the scene where the Doctor takes Sarah back to her own time, erm, 1980, where their decision not to act upon Sutekh's plan has rewritten history and produced a blasted hell where Earth used to be. The question of to what extent one can actually alter history certainly seems to be decisively answered here. As it happens, history is changed all the time. Maintaining the future that the Doctor and Sarah know is, in this instance, a conscious choice.

Gabriel Woolf deserves plaudits for his performance as the voice of Sutekh. That echoing, inhuman hush is infinitely more terrifying than just another booming, shouting villain, and also a good deal more understandable than the similarly hushed dialog of the Zygons a short time ago. I think this story's towering reputation just might be built up on this performance alone.

Because let's be honest, while a good story I don't think this really deserves to be in the big leagues. On top of my aforementioned moral quibbles, the plot really falls apart hardcore in the final episode. I don't think we particularly needed a restaging of the puzzles in the Exxilon city - which is even lampshaded by Sarah Jane - but nevertheless, it is what we get. Like Terror of the Zygons, this is a story which is candy for the eyes and ears, but somewhat of a sedative for the brain.

Anyway, The Android Invasion is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 April 2021.)

Planet of Evil [Doctor Who, Story 81]

Planet of Evil by Louis Marks

27 September - 18 October 1975​

There are many stories with generic titles in Doctor Who's long and celebrated history - Invasion comes to mind - but this title must surely be a contender for the most so. I didn't know what to expect from Planet of Evil, as I hardly ever hear it talked about. Considering that Seasons Thirteen and Fourteen are the most classic of classic seasons, it seems unusual that one of these Hinchcliffe-Holmes stories could be so obscure. This is understandable, since it isn't as good as, say, Pyramids of Mars or Genesis of the Daleks. Maybe it's only forgotten because of its august company? In any other season, this story would be better appreciated.

We've had plenty of space missions gone awry at this point, but few are as suffocatingly dark and creepy as the opening scenes of this story. The antimatter monster's attacks are pretty scary stuff, with actors screaming in anguish and vanishing, only to be replaced by ghoulish, desiccated corpses moments later. The planet itself is rendered beautifully; that jungle set is seriously impressive, and you can tell that the production team liked it too, because they invest some time into sweeping aerial shots from the perspective of a drone. I don't think a Doctor Who set has ever had quite this much height to work with before.

The concept of the planet at the edge of the universe, on the boundary of a world of horrors (the antimatter universe, which I thought the Second Doctor blew up?) is a pleasingly gothic spin on the usual space action setting, and that utterly empty pit that the Doctor (and later Sorenson) falls into is an interesting use of a minimalist effect.

Speaking of pits, though, the story falls into a bit of one where the plotting and acting are concerned. Even at four parts, it's a tad slow. There is something of an overreliance on capture and escape, and on that old chestnut, "You are a spy/rebel/saboteur and will be shot!" I rated Frontier in Space highly a couple seasons ago despite it sharing these flaws (in spades!) but I forgave it a bit because of its length no doubt requiring just a bit of stuffing. This story is only 66% of the length, and thus these bits feel superfluous.

Prentis Hancock is far from marvelous as Salamar, a rather flat and unsubtle character who bumbles through the story with ineffectual bravado. Poor Michael Wisher, in what would prove to be his last performance(s) in Doctor Who, gets short shrift as the ill-fated Morelli, and later puts in his last Who credit as the voice of fellow-astronaut Ranjit. The less said about that caricatured accent the better...

It's far from all sour notes, however. I very much like Ewen Solon (no relation, I'm sure, to he of Morbius fame) as Vishinsky, and Sorenson is a great character. The parallels to Jekyll and Hyde have been talked about before; it's cute that this era continues to mine the literary/film classics with its own unique spin. One of my favorite scenes is Morelli's burial at "sea". Vishinsky follows ship protocol by looking up Morelli's religion, remarking he's "one of those" Morestran Orthodox. He then proceeds to play a hymn, but turns the volume down so he doesn't have to listen to it! This smells like a Holmes contribution to me, full of dark humor and reminding me of the similar worldbuilding touches in Carnival of Monsters. Sarah's reaction to the proceedings says it all.

I'm interested to note the wise and all-knowing role the Doctor takes on, becoming aware of the true nature of Zeta Minor well before anyone else and taking a dive into Hell to bargain with the antimatter entity at the heart of the planet for the lives of the Morestran crew and Sorenson. The Doctor has definitely assumed a markedly more mythical role over the past season, and this story in particular serves him well.

So yeah, I enjoyed this one quite a bit. Far from the best of the season, but also not its weakest. I stand by my opinion that if this was in, say, Season 17 then it would be thought of as a highlight.

Speculation aside, next I will delve into the Pyramids of Mars.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 April 2021.)

Terror of the Zygons [Doctor Who, Story 80]

Terror of the Zygons by Robert Banks Stewart

30 August - 20 September 1975​

It's funny that the Zygons only had this one appearance in the Classic run. They have always struck me as such an iconic alien, with an interesting design and concept. It's nice that they've returned a couple times now in the new series, though I must say that, for example, the Capaldi Zygon story handles them with a bit more subtlety than this maiden outing does. But Terror of the Zygons is not about subtlety in the slightest. This is more like The Daemons, a rather silly romp, albeit a tremendously well staged and performed one. We can term it theme park Doctor Who, I guess: great fun, but, to borrow a Scottish phrase, nothing to set the heather alight!

Douglas Camfield is back on the directorial beat for the first time since he fell ill during Inferno, and he has been sorely missed. His direction is always well-paced and is particularly good at framing action scenes. I particularly like that opening sequence, with the exploding oil rig backlit by the moon and covered in smoke. The scene where the duplicate Harry is attacking Sarah in the barn was also very striking, even a bit scary.

The Zygons themselves are executed beautifully, and are easily the most grotesque and visually intriguing aliens put on the program so far. Their ability to disguise themselves as anyone makes them a formidable enemy (in theory) and I imagine they must have scared the young ones of the time. That Part One cliffhanger certainly gives me that impression, anyway.

As this is the last time we'll see the Brigadier in his natural habitat, it seems fitting to remark on his departure from the regular cast. Lethbridge-Stewart has endured over the decades as one of the most iconic Doctor Who characters, and for good reason, as Nicholas Courtney was a sterling performer, and his character always a reassuring presence. This definitely seems like the right point to part ways with him, however. In the few episodes they've shared together, I never felt that he had the same chemistry with Baker's Doctor as he did with Pertwee's. Furthermore, after a few seasons of slowly winding the UNIT stuff down and returning to the original format of the series, this seems like the right point for that transition to be completed.

This is also more or less our goodbye for Harry Sullivan, who will briefly appear later this season, but in a bit part. He's an unusual companion, clearly chosen and written for a different Fourth Doctor than the one we actually got. Marter is charming though, and I found Harry fun, if a bit under-written. It might have been nice to have him around longer to counterbalance Sarah and the Doctor, but really, it was nice just having him period.

I've had a devil of a time writing this one for some reason, so... what else? I like the bit where the Doctor reassures the fake Duke, "I'm not a party to any kind of nonsense, Your Grace," while putting his hat on an armor stand. I like the amusing touch of the Brigadier addressing the PM as "madam" - a woman prime minister in 1980? Yeah, like that would happen! I like how Sarah is reassured Harry's the real thing as soon as he says "old girl". Basically, I like Terror of the Zygons, I think. Loads of fun.

I'll need to get my coat and my anti-antimatter spray, because next I'm due a visit to the Planet of Evil.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 20 April 2021.)

Doctor Who, Season Twelve

What an inventive, invincible season!

Season Twelve has quickly transformed Doctor Who into a cosmic adventure again, just as it was in the 1960s. It would be easy to attribute this to the new production team, but all of the stories of this production block were commissioned by Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks. Sort of a parting gift, then, and one which Hinchcliffe and Holmes handled with surprising grace, considering what a mess the production seems to have been.

Two more classic stories were given to us this season, plus three solid but less extraordinary entries to the canon. Here's the score breakdown:

Robot - 7.25
Part One - 8.00
Part Two - 7.00
Part Three - 7.00
Part Four - 7.00

The Ark in Space - 9.50
Part One - 9.00
Part Two - 9.00
Part Three - 10.00
Part Four - 10.00

The Sontaran Experiment - 8.00
Part One - 9.00
Part Two - 7.00

Genesis of the Daleks - 10.00
Part One - 10.00
Part Two - 10.00
Part Three - 10.00
Part Four - 10.00
Part Five - 10.00
Part Six - 10.00

Revenge of the Cybermen - 7.25
Part One - 7.00
Part Two - 7.00
Part Three - 8.00
Part Four - 7.00

Best episode: Genesis of the Daleks, Part One - 10.00
Runner-up: Genesis of the Daleks, Part Six - 10.00
"Worst" episode: The Sontaran Experiment, Part Two - 7.00

Season Twelve average: 8.60

Best guest appearance: Michael Wisher as Davros (Genesis of the Daleks)
Best special effect: The giant Robot K-1 (Robot)
Best musical score: Revenge of the Cybermen (Carey Blyton & Peter Howell)

Say, aren't we short somewhere between four and six episodes for this season? Why, yes... The last story of this production block was carried over into Season Thirteen to move Doctor Who back to an autumn start for the first time since 1968. We'd best get on with that. Terror of the Zygons is next.

(Modified from the original posted on Gallifrey Base on 18 April 2021.)

Revenge of the Cybermen [Doctor Who, Story 79]

Revenge of the Cybermen by Gerry Davis & Robert Holmes

19 April - 10 May 1975​

Looking back on it, Gerry Davis was indispensable in the early years of this program. As a script editor, and as a frequent collaborator with Kit Pedler on the stories that first developed the Cybermen, he certainly left a lasting mark. It's a pity that his time on the series ends with a story that was almost completely rewritten from his original, and so bears very little of his thumbprint as a writer. I've heard that Davis's original vision, Return of the Cybermen (a very Star Wars distinction), is available as an audio story from Big Finish, and I'll probably check it out sometime.

It kind of shows, because in their first appearance since 1968's Invasion, and their last until 1982's Earthshock, these Cybermen aren't exactly... Cybermen. They have the look, albeit slightly modified, especially that cool black helmet on the Cyber-Leader. But they certainly sound a little too emotive for my liking, and there's nary a hint in the entire story that they're anything more than big, hulking robots. As the Cybermen are some of my favorite Who monsters, I can't help but to find this conceptual simplification disappointing. What was the point of having them back at all aside from the recognition factor?

Although this aspect underwhelmed me, the story is generally a fairly strong one. Although it's clearly a cost saving measure, we do feel we've come full circle by arriving back on Nerva Beacon, where our journey this season really began. Similar to the last Ark we were on, a great expanse of time separates this visit from the last, but this time we're in the past instead of the future. The one really interesting concept relating with the Cybermen that's introduced here is their allergy to gold. This calls back to the sort of concepts that Davis's predecessor David Whitaker wrote about (gold being silver's alchemical opposite) and so, while a little silly in practice, is still a cool idea.

The best part of the story is totally Kellman, though. Jeremy Wilkin is really good in the part, which isn't very subtly written in the script, but is performed with some subtlety by the actor. I like his little barely-hidden smirk of satisfaction when he realizes the Cybermen are on their way and he's going to have back-up. Curiously, it turns out that he was only working with the Cybermen on the instructions of one of the Vogans, who try to lure the Cybermen to Voga and into a trap in revenge for an attack on Voga centuries before. The Vogans themselves aren't the most successful aliens the show has tried so far, but the sets of their city look interesting, as do the location shots of the caves.

All in all, a fun story, but not the most groundbreaking outing for the titular silver titans. There are a lot of fun moments as long as you don't try to think about it too hard. Our roundup for Season Twelve will be coming up next.

"HARRY SULLIVAN IS AN IMBECILE!"​

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 17 April 2021.)

Genesis of the Daleks [Doctor Who, Story 78]

Genesis of the Daleks by Terry Nation

8 March - 12 April 1975

"Do you believe that I would let a lifetime's work be ended by the will of spineless fools like you? You have won nothing. I allowed this charade to be played out for one reason only. To find those men who were truly loyal to me and to discover those who would betray me! We... I will go on!"​

You know the popular kid at school? I was, putting it charitably, a bit of a shy nerd during my career as a student. I was categorically not that kid. I always viewed those kids with secret derision and suspicion, wondering what nasty secrets their perfect facades were hiding. Of course, to my annoyance, I usually came to realize that there was a good reason those kids were so popular, and that they were generally cool and nice kids who were simply better at talking to people than I was.

Genesis of the Daleks is the popular kid.

When something is talked up as much as Genesis, it's easy feeling like you're going to be disappointed by the real thing, but, go figure: it's exactly as brilliant as everybody says it is. The closest thing to a duff moment in the entirety of its six-episode span is the giant clam, and that barely even matters to me. This is compelling drama, and it's from the pen of the guy who some nasty fans allege only knew how to write one story.

(Honestly, I just pointed out how much work Holmes was already doing for Season Twelve. How can anyone think he had time to rewrite six more episodes on top of that? Especially when neither Holmes nor Nation ever mentioned this? I smell an agenda.)

What makes this the scariest Dalek story so far is that the Daleks are barely there. Instead, the implied threat of the Daleks, of the fact that this will be their genesis, is what casts this story in such an atmosphere of dread. In Part One, we learn that the Time Lords, who seemed unaware of, or at least unconcerned by the Daleks back in The War Games, now take them seriously enough to break their own rules of intervention to try to smother them in the cradle. It contributes strongly to the growing mythic importance of the Daleks in the Doctor's universe, and of course foreshadows the inevitable clash between these races in the distant future.

It's one thing hearing for so many years that the Daleks once looked like us; it's another to actually see the Kaleds for the first time and hear the word extermination spill from the lips of a general who looks no older than twenty. Our expectations are played with, however, when we hear the same word spoken by one of the Thal leaders just a couple of episodes later. It was only two seasons ago that we last saw the doe-eyed, peaceful Thals that we first met on Skaro in 1964. It's therefore shocking to discover just what utter bastards they were before the Daleks. All it would have taken is a Thal genius of Davros's caliber, and surely they would have developed their own Thaleks with exactly the same malicious glee.

The Daleks themselves, as sparingly as they're used, are still terrifying. That dark gunmetal paintjob is really striking, and their attacks have never been so gruesome. Take for example Ronson's death, where it takes two shots to kill him and he dies in agony. It makes it seem like these earlier, more primitive Dalek rays haven't been perfected yet, and aren't as efficient at extermination.

All this dread, and the expectation that by the end the Daleks will be in control, is paid off in the moment when the Daleks break their silence, and you realize that they've been preparing to surpass their own creator all along. There's a real sense at the end that the Doctor has only delayed the inevitable, and that the day of the Daleks is yet to come.

"We are entombed, but we live on. This is only the beginning."​

It would have been so easy for Davros to have been a failure. When there's a concept like "the man who created the Doctor's greatest enemies and scourge of the universe, the Daleks", you have to imagine that the reality can never live up to the expectation. Despite the potential pitfalls, the costume work on Davros, and Michael Wisher's acting chops, completely sell the character. He is very much an "anti-Doctor", an intellectual equal for our hero but utterly opposed morally. It's clear that Davros thinks he is the hero of his own story, but his perspective of the world is so twisted that his convictions only make him all the more dangerous. His design is superb, too, a ghoulish mask that's expressive despite how much of Wisher's face it covers, and of course that powered chair of his that so resembles a Dalek chassis. Wisher affects a lot of interesting mannerisms, notably his hand movements and his habit of raising his voice into a distinctly Dalek-like shout.

Although the gratification is delayed considerably, the scenes where the Doctor and Davros clash are some of the best the show has ever had. The Doctor is at pains to convince this clearly very intelligent man that he's putting his skills to the wrong purpose, but all he seems to accomplish is strengthening Davros's resolve further. There's a really heavy sense of tragedy about this, amidst what's already an unremittingly grim story.

I have to praise Peter Miles yet again, this time for the coldblooded Nyder. Nation plays a clever trick by showing flickers of doubt within Nyder, and making us believe that he might be the latest in a long line of henchmen who realize what they're doing and betray their masters; only to then cruelly subvert the expectation by having him double down, tricking Gharman into revealing the names of his co-conspirators. It's a layered performance, suggesting a man experiencing troubles of conscience, but ultimately rejecting his own better judgement in favor of his loyalty to the madman he serves.

"The whole of the Kaled people? You would go that far?"

"Did you ever doubt it?"

"No."​

Terry Nation is certainly capable of writing some fairly complex moral questions. For all that it's sometimes unsubtle (okay, often unsubtle), here the question of whether it's right and moral for the Doctor to wipe out the Daleks in the cultivation room is presented in a way that's delightfully ambiguous. Justifiably, this moment, played with tremendous gravity by Tom Baker, is one of the most famous in the show's history, and this is because it's quite marvelous. Does the Doctor have the right, he asks us? He never gets an answer; ultimately, fate takes the decision out of his hands, and a Dalek ends up accidentally blowing up the room instead. It's a question that I think anyone would struggle with, were they in his shoes, and it's a sophisticated touch that we don't get any easy answers.

But among all the carnage, the war destroying the Kaleds and Thals one day at a time, there are glimmers of hope. There are people like Bettan who long for peace, people like Ronson who draw the line in the sand, and people like Sevrin, who despite being an outcast Muto still struggles to help the people who have persecuted him. Even in the darkest hour of Skaro, there are still those who reject the philosophy of Davros and the Daleks, and say there has to be another way. It doesn't matter if they're never called human, the allegory is clear: they're us, and they say that there is a world that's still possible, a world without fascism, a world where Kaled, Thal and Muto can coexist.

I'm sure it's all been said before, but what a wonderful story. This could never have belonged to a prior era of the show. It's an instant vindication of the new production team, and I'm comfortable saying, the best Doctor Who story to have broadcast up to this point.

Revenge of the Cybermen is next.

"You don't seem too disappointed. We've failed, haven't we?"

"Failed? No, not really. You see, I know that although the Daleks will create havoc and destruction for millions of years, I know also that out of their evil must come something good."​

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 April 2021.)

The Sontaran Experiment [Doctor Who, Story 77]

The Sontaran Experiment by Bob Baker & Dave Martin

22 February - 1 March 1975​

The very existence of this story is a bit of an anomaly, of course. Our last two-part story was The Rescue, all the way back in 1965. I suspect, but don't know for certain, that it exists because if it hadn't, we would have had a six-parter in the place of Ark and Experiment, and I'm sure everyone knows how Hinchcliffe and Holmes felt about the proliferation of six-parters in the previous seasons. This season's actually shorter overall, at a mere 20 episodes, but with the interpolation of this, we still come out at the same number of 5 stories as we did for the previous four years.

I don't seem to hear The Sontaran Experiment get talked about a whole lot, which is understandable given its short runtime. However, I still found it a load of fun. The location filming looks fantastic, and it's nice to have Kevin Lindsay back again, to remind us that the Sontarans are supposed to be clones. Tragically, this would prove to be Lindsay's last role for television, as he would pass away just months after broadcast at the appallingly young age of 51. It was nice having such a classy actor appear on this show twice.

It's interesting how neatly this dovetails into the previous serial, showing us the Earth that Vira and friends left behind. The idea that we're looking at a heath where Central London used to be is a very fun conceit. Following up on another thread from that story, we actually meet some of those famous colonists, and discover that they think the Ark is a legend. This is a really cool expansion upon the world that was introduced in the last story. It also picks up on the theme of human nature once more, this time showing Styre's ghoulish efforts to test the boundaries of human endurance. He gets a lot more than he bargains for, as exemplified in the scene where Krans and Erak struggle to prevent the gravity bar from crushing Vural. Styre observes with amusement that they struggle so hard to save Vural's life even though he's betrayed them. Of course, no matter how many experiments he runs, Styre, a member of a highly ruthless and utilitarian society, simply cannot understand the human desire to do good.

If I had to pick on this story for one thing, it would be the length. At only about 50 minutes, there simply isn't enough time to build up to anything big, and the ending where Styre dissolves before our eyes, while memorable, feels a bit unrewarding. Still, I found this a fun little story, and certainly not a flat note in this great season.

Genesis of the Daleks is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 April 2021.)

The Ark in Space [Doctor Who, Story 76]

The Ark in Space by Robert Holmes

25 January - 15 February 1975​

Something tells me that Robert Holmes might just have been a bit of a workaholic. On top of his new responsibilities as script editor, he also mostly reworked Revenge of the Cybermen, was heavily involved in the scripting of The Sontaran Experiment, and performed a page-one rewrite of this story here. It's a wonder he still had it in him to do more seasons after this! Still, this script certainly doesn't suffer for the workload Holmes was surely laboring under. As far as a statement of intent for the new Hinchcliffe-Holmes vision of the show goes, you can't ask for a better story than this.

It's striking from the start of Part One just how spooky and cold the atmosphere of the titular Ark is. The white, empty chambers of the Ark are revealed to us in some fairly sweeping shots which sell the scope in a way that conceals the actual size of the sets. The room with the dormant humans is especially effective, an impression helped by the awe that Baker's Doctor feels when he stands there for his monolog.

"Homo sapiens. What an inventive, invincible species. It's only a few million years since they've crawled up out of the mud and learned to walk. Puny, defenceless bipeds. They've survived flood, famine and plague. They've survived cosmic wars and holocausts, and now here they are amongst the stars, waiting to begin a new life, ready to outsit eternity. They're indomitable. Indomitable!"​

This moment is remarkable not just because of the oratory power held by Tom Baker, whose big, booming voice is absolutely perfect for moments like this, but for the outright annunciation of what makes humankind so special. It's de rigeur in today's show to extol the virtues of humanity, but this is the first time that the Doctor has told us what he finds so interesting about our species in such expansive and glowing words. The Pertwee Doctor, as human as he was, mostly seemed fed up with us during his time on Earth, so this is definitely an interesting change in tone.

As with the previous story, the idea of what it actually means to be human is a central theme of The Ark in Space. We discover that the human population stored in stasis aboard the Ark is a remnant selected to survive the solar flares that scourged the Earth. We also learn, interestingly, that there are colonies, the inhabitants of which Vira and Noah refer to with clear derision. Thus it's implied that the colonists might have survived too, but that these particular survivors don't consider them "real" humans. For all that the Doctor tells us that all colors and creeds are represented in this collection, the idea that there are some people who aren't worth saving still seems to persist.

Cleverly, then, after Noah is transformed into one of the parasitic Wirrn, becoming a grotesque insect, we see that his own human instincts still win. The Wirrn represent the ultimate violation of our humanity. We like to think of ourselves as being higher than the other members of the animal kingdom. We know that parasitic wasps exist in our world, but they don't bother us; they prey on spiders and other animals we consider "beneath" ourselves. The Wirrn clearly don't see that distinction and prey on us all the same, both by feeding us to their young and even turning us into them. There couldn't be something more disgusting to our sense of self.

So of course at the end, Noah's love for his humanity, and for Vira, allows him to sacrifice himself and destroy the Wirrn which he's joined. His last words, an apology and a farewell, while a rocket silently shoots off into space and then explodes. It vindicates what we the viewers already know, that the disdain the Ark crew hold for the colonists was wrong; human beings are human beings. No matter how monstrous he looked, Noah was the most human of them all, at the moment when it really counted.

The better side of humanity prevailed. It always does. Always will.

So yes, of course I thought it was an amazing story. No contrarianism here. The Sontaran Experiment is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 15 April 2021.)

Robot [Doctor Who, Story 75]

Robot by Terrance Dicks

28 December 1974 - 18 January 1975​

If Robot was the only Tom Baker story to survive the apocalypse, I don't think anyone would understand what his tenure was really like. This is a signally odd story because it's so much of the old style, an Earthbound UNIT story with a fairly simple morality tale at its core. Although it's in no way remarkable in its own right, it's still a fairly solid script. It's also interesting for starting a theme that will carry on through most of Season Twelve, namely the question of human nature.

Our enemies here are the Scientific Reform Society (SRS, which I can't stop reading as "sex reassignment surgery" whenever I see that ghastly pamphlet) who believe that only a chosen "elite" of humanity deserve to rule the world. This is basically the same thing as Grover and Finch's cadre from Invasion of the Dinosaurs last season, but perhaps a bit sillier and more fascist-coded.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that my background is in the sciences (no degree, after all) but I did grow up steeped in a fascination with astronomy and zoology which carries on as a hobby to this day. As much as I value rational thought and understanding of the natural world, I deplore the crass utilitarianism of human life; the reduction of thinking people to cogs in a machine; and overall, the misuse of "rationality" and "logic" to deem other groups of people as inferior. Like environmentalism, science can also be misused by authoritarians. So as cartoony as this depiction is, it's sadly applicable to real attitudes we see in our world.

Mixed up in this effort by the SRS to hold the world to ransom is K1, an experimental robot. Designed by Professor Kettlewell as a helper meant to take on tasks too dangerous for organic life, it possesses a complex cybernetic brain that's actually capable of learning and changing. Like BOSS, this is a more human-like machine than the rather dry and unfeeling computers of the Hartnell and Troughton years. It's a change that's interesting to observe, and signals a transition in the show's priorities for writing computers. Rather than being used as symbols of progress gone wrong, they're now more a reflection of our own human nature.

Although K1 is programmed a certain way, we see his ability to respond to new stimuli as analogous to our own human learning. Even the fact that he is made of a sort of growing, organic metal makes him more human-like. Ultimately, it's when his programming is abused that K1 begins to make bad decisions, culminating in his destruction. The same thing can happen to any of us, though you may wish to substitute "programming" for "indoctrination". It's therefore tragic when K1 is killed off, eaten by a metal-destroying virus, as one gets the sense that there should have been another way. It all makes for a fairly strong and moving central premise, although it falls just short of outright excellence.

"It was a wonderful creature, capable of great good, and great evil. Yes, I think you could say it was human."​

As for other facets of the story, among other things, this is our first encounter with Sergeant-Lieutenant Harry Sullivan. First impressions are of someone with a cozy and self-assured worldview; it will no doubt be a delight to watch the Doctor crack that view wide open. Ian Marter is good (and quite handsome), so I provisionally welcome the new addition to the TARDIS team with gusto.

It is a bit of an odd old time for Tom. His first few minutes are certainly energetic and get across the idea of a somewhat zanier Doctor than Pertwee's. The rest of the script, however, gives him rather more staid dialog. I get the sense that most of it wasn't really written with Tom in mind, but nevertheless, the way that he reads the lines with heavy irony and his usual flourishes gives his dialog a bit of an injection of life that they would have otherwise been lacking.

Despite the interesting ideas and the promising signs, I still find it hard to regard this as anything more than a bit of a hangover. The Doctor clearly seems eager to slip free from this format in this episode, almost leaving without Sarah twice. He no longer feels bound to one place or time, and neither do we. Let the adventure begin!

The Ark in Space is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 14 April 2021.)

A Word on Jon Pertwee

 A Word on Jon Pertwee

So ends a remarkable period of Doctor Who history. For all that Hartnell and Troughton defined the role of the Doctor, neither ever inhabited the role in the same way that Jon Pertwee did. Allegedly, he was directed to "just play himself" when the question of how to characterize his version of the Doctor was brought up. And if that's true, then this man surely was the Doctor, unparalleled.

There are undoubtedly aspects of this Doctor (like his penchant for Venusian karate) that wouldn't hold up in present incarnations. But despite this, others, like his strong sense of moral outrage, his "citizen of the universe" attitude, and his love-hate relationship with humankind, are all still obvious today. He's a real hero, and it's been a joy watching his time on the show.

It's been an era of contradictions; a down-to-earth setting with unearthly characters, military orthodoxy with Buddhist mysticism, feminism and political activism with some misjudged moments. So too is this Doctor a man of contradictions, a gentleman in old-fashioned dress who is nevertheless just as much of a rebel as a scholar, establishment and dis-establishment wrapped up into one. Accordingly, it's one of the most fascinating portrayals of Doctor Who that's ever been given.

By all accounts, Jon was temperamental too, but a brilliant guy just the same, and a steadfast friend to his fellow cast members. He loved the role and served as an ambassador for the show for the rest of his life, and I'll always admire him for that.

-----​

Jamie seems to have set some kind of precedent, because like him, several characters have remained a part of the Doctor's extended family for rather a long time during this era. Accordingly, it feels more stable than, for example, the revolving door of the Hartnell years. They are a part of the glue that held these five seasons together, and I found all of them highly likable. Here's how my top ten companions are looking as of 1974.

1. Barbara Wright
2. Jo Grant
3. Jamie McCrimmon
4. Steven Taylor
5. Liz Shaw
6. Vicki Pallister
7. Ian Chesterton
8. Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart
9. Sarah Jane Smith
10. Zoe Heriot

Polly, Ben, Victoria and Susan all fall out of view, the poor things. I loved these new characters so much, though! Sacrifices must be made.

Liz Shaw made a strong impression despite her short stay. I thought her more mature outlook and her world-weary cynicism was a great fit for this proud and fussy Doctor. I'm going to need to hunt down more of Caroline John's Companion Chronicles appearances!

Jo Grant was a bit of a dark horse. First impressions in Terror of the Autons didn't fill me with a great deal of hope, but despite the tut-worthy way that she's written into Season Eight, the lovely Katy Manning elevated the role into one of the most likable characters the show has ever had. Over the course of her three seasons, Jo visibly developed and matured as a person, something that I can't take for granted this early in the show's history. She's undoubtedly one of the very best assistants this Time Lord could hope for.

The Brigadier has proved to be an able sidekick for the Doctor, a capable fellow who serves as the comic straight man to all the science fiction that follows our title character around. I confess a preference to those times where he wasn't actually fulfilling the role of a companion, however, namely his more antagonistic relationship with the Doctor in Season Seven. But regardless of the inconsistency of that particular thread, he'll always be a welcome presence on my screen.

Benton doesn't quite make the cut, but remains a thoroughly enjoyable character, while Yates likewise remains below the top ten, if indeed he can be considered a companion. Either way you slice of it, both of these UNIT boys likewise found a place in my heart.

Lastly, Sarah Jane, who's only just got here! I'm already charmed by her, but I don't feel that I'll have much else to say until she's had a couple seasons with Tom to develop some more.

Pertwee's era wouldn't have been the same without this family of characters. I think this is the sort of thing Chris Chibnall aims for with his large ensemble casts, but the closest thing to this in the New Series which actually succeeds is the RTD era. Since I whetted my Who appetite on those years of the post-2005 program, this feels rather familiar and welcoming to me. Although some of the UNIT guys will be around for a little while yet, this marks the point where that family becomes divided, and it's sad to see it go.

-----​

Here are five of my favorite moments from Jon Pertwee's tenure as Doctor Who:

"What are you a doctor of, by the way?" "Practically everything, my dear." (Spearhead from Space)

"Hello! Are you a Silurian?" (Doctor Who and the Silurians)

"Then why do you need so many people to keep them under control? Don't they like being happy and prosperous?" (Day of the Daleks)

"Courage isn't just a matter of not being frightened, you know." (Planet of the Daleks)

"Save me a piece of wedding cake." (The Green Death)

-----​

I hope I'll travel with you again someday, Jon. Until then, it's on to Season Twelve and Robot.

"My voyage dissects the course of time

'Who knows?' you say

But are you right?

Who searches deep to find the light

That glows so darkly in the night

Toward that point I guide my flight.

I am the Doctor."

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 13 April 2021.)

Cities Made of Song, 1974

Cities Made of Song, 1974 - Seven Seas of Rhye by Queen​

I once met someone who laughed when I mentioned "favorite Queen albums".

"Why would you care about the albums?" he asked. "They were a singles band."

Phooie! And again, I say phooie! Queen were a group just as capable of composing sophisticated albums in the studio as they were of dominating the radio waves. The fact that their LP discography seems rarely remembered is a real pity, since they put out several incredible rock albums through the 70s, and for that matter, several good ones later on. In all honestly, "Innuendo" is actually my favorite, followed by "Sheer Heart Attack", and then "Queen II".

"Queen II" is an odd duck. Like most bands of the time, Queen had started in clubs a few years before they ever recorded a record, and their first album is about as standard hard rock as you can get. But it's clear that being another Led Zeppelin clone was never going to rest well with any member of this group, whose ambitions always stretched much further. So after an uncommonly long production period, running from mid 1973 to the first days of 1974, Queen showed us a little more of the band that they would become with this excellent record.

There's a bit of chessboard imagery here, and the album is divided into a "white" side and a "black" side. They're tied together by a number of songs covering a loose fantasy theme, showing progressive rock influences without ever quite crossing over into that genre. Actually, the type of rock on display is pretty undefinable, which I like very much. It's still hard rock of a sort, but there's tinges of prog, tinges of metal, tinges of glam, and everything in between. I'm a particular fan of the thumping Ogre Battle which eventually gave its name to an entertaining strategy game series by Enix. March of the Black Queen is notable for being sort of a proto-Bohemian Rhapsody, the second longest tune in Queen's catalog, and musically very complex. Seemingly it was a pain in the neck to produce, but the results are undeniably spectacular. This song has received a lot of heightened attention online in the last couple of years because of a line which, at least in the original version of the song, contains the N-word. It's startling just how much standards of what is and isn't acceptable in music have changed in the last 50 years.

Seven Seas of Rhye was intended as radio bait, and hey, it worked. It peaked at #10 on the UK charts and has been one of Queen's most enduring hits. The only complaint I have about it is that it's so short! That intro is one of the most interesting instrumental sequences Queen ever did, and the soaring harmony in the middle eighth is just divine. I profess a special fondness for the fade-out in the coda and the singing of I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside; I'm tempted by the coincidence that Pertwee rattled off this same tune just earlier in the first part of Death to the Daleks, but to steal a phrase from Ghosts of N-Space, it's probably just another case of synchronicity!

For all the flaws of its longest and most ambitious track, this album shows heaps of promise for a band that was rapidly coming into its own. Perhaps we'll visit Queen again for one of the future Cities Made of Song posts. For now, I'll be doing my denouement post for the Pertwee era. Cheers.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 13 April 2021.)

Doctor Who, Season Eleven

Here's another victory lap for the books. The fifth and final Pertwee season is now wrapped up! It's been a curious thing; while certainly not a bad season by any means, after four seasons which seemed so confident in what they were doing, Season Eleven feels like something of an afterthought. This is more of a coda to an era - but nevertheless, a nice coda.

For the roster of writers, we're only missing Baker & Martin for a who's-who of the Pertwee era. Yet another excellent Bob Holmes story is joined by the last scripts from Hulke, Hayles, and the Sloman-Letts duo, and the increasingly rare contribution from Terry Nation. It's sad to see the last contributions from several of these people, but it's good that things are changing and staying fresh. With the benefit of hindsight, it does seem very obvious that Holmes is gearing up to take over the position of script editor, and I'm excited to see how that goes for him.

Here's the score breakdown:

The Time Warrior - 9.50
Part One - 10.00
Part Two - 9.00
Part Three - 10.00
Part Four - 9.00

Invasion of the Dinosaurs - 8.50
Part One - 9.00
Part Two - 9.00
Part Three - 8.00
Part Four - 8.00
Part Five - 8.00
Part Six - 9.00

Death to the Daleks - 5.75
Part One - 8.00
Part Two - 6.00
Part Three - 5.00
Part Four - 4.00

The Monster of Peladon - 5.67
Part One - 6.00
Part Two - 5.00
Part Three - 5.00
Part Four - 6.00
Part Five - 6.00
Part Six - 6.00

Planet of the Spiders - 7.50
Part One - 8.00
Part Two - 7.00
Part Three - 7.00
Part Four - 7.00
Part Five - 7.00
Part Six - 9.00

Best episode: The Time Warrior, Part One - 10.00
Runner-up: The Time Warrior, Part Three - 10.00
Worst episode: Death to the Daleks, Part Four - 4.00

Season Eleven average: 7.35

Best guest appearance: Kevin Lindsay as Commander Linx (The Time Warrior)
Best special effect: The Exxilon city (Death to the Daleks)
Best musical score: Death to the Daleks (Carey Blyton)

The 1974 music post will be coming soon.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 13 April 2021.)

Planet of the Spiders [Doctor Who, Story 74]

Planet of the Spiders by Robert Sloman & Barry Letts

4 May - 8 June 1974

"The old man must die, and the new man will discover to his inexpressible joy that he has never existed."​

One hears a certain impression that season finales need to be epic, and regeneration stories even more so. Of course, the thing is that before this, there never was a "regeneration story" in Doctor Who. For a start, it was never called "regeneration" until Part Six of Planet of the Spiders. And although in some ways The War Games touched upon the experience of regenerating, at least in the last two episodes, Planet of the Spiders is nevertheless the first story to actually be written around the incumbent Doctor's impending change as its primary story beat. I must also point out that rather than being self-consciously epic, this story feels so right because it's more intimate, focusing on the Doctor's inner space instead of outer space.

There is somewhat of a valedictory air around the whole thing, most keenly seen in that delightfully goofy, but charming, vehicle chase sequence across land, air and sea in Part Two. Jon Pertwee goes out with as much style and verve as he had throughout his tenure. Although Katy Manning isn't here, it's nice that there's a letter from Jo accompanying the Metebelis crystal, and Kismet Delgado got to participate although her late husband could not. This seems like the proper sort of "everyone is here" send-off that this particular era deserved.

It's nice to see that Yates has been taking care of himself (and growing out his hair) since his discharge from UNIT. I might have liked for his betrayal in Invasion of the Dinosaurs to have been touched on just a tad more, but it's nice having him back for one last hurrah even if it's not his most heroic. The fact that he found healing and meaning through a Tibetan Buddhist center seems to be autobiographical on Letts's part, as he did much the same thing after his experiences as a submarine officer in the Second World War. Buddhist themes permeate this story, and I won't pretend that I'm smart enough or well-versed enough in Buddhism, Vajrayana or otherwise, to comment on its portrayal.

Although this is far from Letts's last involvement with the program - we have him as producer until Robot, and he will of course work on it in other capacities later - this is still the last story of the era which he helped to define, so it seems appropriate to tip my hat to him at this juncture. It's clear that Letts's liberal leanings and worldview were responsible for that thing I loved the most about the Pertwee era, its earnestness. Letts and Dicks commissioned so many great writers during this period, who consistently turned in socially conscious and, on the whole, very interesting scripts. His good sense for action, flair, and spectacle all served the program well and elevated it to new heights of popularity. And above all, he was instrumental in crafting the show he inherited into one that's recognizably the predecessor of the one we have today.

Admittedly, there are areas where this story does not completely succeed. The human colonist descendants that the Doctor meets are generally quite flat. In Part Six, I couldn't really tell that Arak and Tuar were mind controlled, since they'd seemed just as wooden the whole time. Metebelis III is undoubtedly less alien, and less interesting, than it was in The Green Death, but as with The Monster of Peladon, it is nice to see a story where there are consequences for the Doctor's previous visit to a world. The spiders were pleasingly creepy, and I enjoyed the concept of them also seeing Earth as their homeworld, the same as the humans they dominate. I was also (briefly) delighted to see Cyril Shaps back, until he once again died! Three for three, poor fellow.

The most interesting part of the story to me was its partial deconstruction of the Third Doctor as a character. He has always been a proud and temperamental creature, which I've interpreted as a consequence of the way in which the Second Doctor died. Having been forced to change his appearance and then all but caged on a primitive planet with parts of his memory excised, it is easy to interpret his pride as a reaction and as a means of grasping for control of his own life again. Having slipped these bonds and returned to traveling the universe at large, this pride has gotten the better of him without anything to hold it in check. It's sad then, but fitting, to see him humbled by his ordeal in this story, forced to face his death and surrender what he stole. Considering that he does this while up against the screaming Great One extolling its own power and importance, it's clear that this marks a moment of ego-death for the Doctor. (Which, considering that Tom Baker is on his way, is really quite ironic...)

Although this is far from the greatest story of the Pertwee years on a basic episode-by-episode plotting basis, it is still rather clever, and in my opinion an eminently fitting way to say goodbye to this most glam of Time Lords.

That's all for now! I'll write up my overall impressions of Season Eleven tomorrow.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 13 April 2021.)

The Monster of Peladon [Doctor Who, Story 73]

The Monster of Peladon by Brian Hayles

23 March - 27 April 1974​

Although prior eras had continuity between separate stories on occasion, the Pertwee era seems to have relied on this continuity more than either of the eras before it. Case in point, this serial, which I'm sure that one can't really enjoy without having first seen The Curse of Peladon two seasons previous. The most interesting parts of this story, namely its more critical look at the Galactic Federation, are best viewed in the context of the more optimistic prequel. As a follow-up to Curse, this story is a bit interesting. Divorced from that story, it's a rather boring affair.

Quite honestly, it's a little dull no matter which way you slice it. The twists are simply not as interesting, nor the performances quite as strong, as the other Peladon story. Ortron is essentially a less interesting Hepesh, and Nina Thomas, while still good as Queen Thalira, is no David Troughton. I feel like it's a bit of a waste that Eckersley and Azaxyr are revealed as agents of Galaxy Five (not Galaxy Four?) rather than simply being corrupt but still a part of the Federation. It removes a bit of the nuance that the story was attempting. Still, it is nice that the miners are introduced to tell us a bit more about the diversity of Peladon's people, and its class system, even though those wigs of theirs are terrible.

Notably, this story once again touches on feminism through the lens of Sarah Jane, who rather charmingly tries to encourage Thalira to exert her authority. This plot feels like an afterthought however, as no amount of girlbossing from Thalira ends up saving the day, with perhaps the exception of her biting Eckersley's hand at the end.

Really, most of this story's strengths rely upon the interesting setting that is Peladon, which it inherited from the previous story. It introduces very little of its own that captured my imagination. It's unfortunate that the penultimate story of the Pertwee era should be its most dull, but I could see this one growing on my in the fullness of time.

The end is very nearly here. Planet of the Spiders is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 12 April 2021.)

The Ghosts of N-Space [Doctor Who, Diversion 26]

The Ghosts of N-Space by Barry Letts

20 January - 24 February 1996​

Having listened to The Paradise of Death already, I came into The Ghosts of N-Space thinking I knew what to expect. Little did I know! Even the title misled me, as the N-Space mentioned is nothing to do with the N-Space previously coined in Tom Baker's last season, but instead is short for Null-Space. Rather like The Time Monster, also penned in part by Letts, this story seems to fall victim to a sort of idea soup, where a number of interesting concepts are at play, but few of them are given the time they need to breathe.

This also, unfortunately, has a number of the same flaws which dragged down The Paradise of Death - namely some iffy voice acting choices, confusing sound design during action scenes, Jeremy Fitzoliver, etc. - but without quite the same coherence of plotting to save it. It also suffers from being about 25 minutes longer than the preceding serial, at a full six parts, very typical of a Pertwee story.

This story has an even greater preoccupation with alchemy than any of David Whitaker's scripts, which is really saying something. The villain is an alchemist-slash-sorcerer-slash-Satanist from the 16th century, who is moonlighting in the 20th century as a mafioso after discovering an elixir of life. Since the fiends of Null-Space are shaped by perception, he turns it into a Bosch painting sort of landscape full of shrieking devils when he briefly takes it over. The religious overtones come across a bit oddly, compared with the more delicate touch seen in Planet of the Spiders, and this time are nevertheless more Christian than Buddhist.

Once more, I'm pleased that excuses are found to draw the Brig into the adventure even though it's not a UNIT story. Seeing the golden trio performing together one last time is quite heartwarming, even if the story itself isn't really good. So for all that I struggled to listen through the whole thing, Pertwee, Sladen, and Courtney kept me going on. That makes it just about worthwhile.

The timeline seems to be normalizing again, and next we're back to Season Eleven and The Monster of Peladon. See you then.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 12 April 2021.)

Death to the Daleks [Doctor Who, Story 72]

Death to the Daleks by Terry Nation

23 February - 16 March 1974​

After so many years without having any Daleks at all, it's been profoundly strange having three stories featuring the little guys in as many seasons. I confess that, of the three, Death to the Daleks is probably the least successful. That isn't to say it's a bad story. In fact, having finished watching this era as of the time of this writing, there isn't a single bad story in the whole of Pertwee's run. But this remains perhaps one of the least successful.

It's hard to put my finger precisely on why. None of the individual components were especially poor, but just like what happened on my first viewing of this story four years ago, I found myself curiously sedated by the experience and just about ready to drift off by the end. There's also a certain tonal issue with this story. The Chase felt like it was sending up the Daleks by making them look silly, but I really can't tell if this story is trying the same thing on purpose. The Daleks enter the story unable to operate their weapons, looking quite silly when they try to exterminate the human mining team, and spend much of it being killed by Exxilons, garden hoses, and even self-destructing over failing to keep Sarah Jane captive. I think I have to assume that it is intentional, but if so, that it feels out of place.

The humans feel like they've come out of some sort of cod-Star Trek setting (Federation pins and all), and are on the hunt for, ahem, parrinium. A couple of stories over the past seasons, like Carnival of Monsters, reference some kind of "space plague", so I wonder if the one described here is supposed to be the same one. None of these humans really stood out to me apart from John Abineri's Railton, who nevertheless is killed off quite early. Probably the only memorable guest character (aside from the Daleks themselves) was Bellal, the exiled Exxilon.

Generally speaking, I thought Part One was fairly brilliant and atmospheric, with the darkened sky and mists making Exxilon (the planet, not the people) seem more mysterious and dangerous. It's a little disappointing that the effect isn't maintained through the rest of the story, which rapidly loses my interest with the puzzle-solving in the trapped city.

For all that this story has some fun elements and interesting ideas, then, it averages out into quite the tranquilizer, and a bit of a disappointing turnout for the Daleks. Better luck next time, Terry?

As promised, The Ghosts of N-Space is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 12 April 2021.)

Invasion of the Dinosaurs [Doctor Who, Story 71]

Invasion of the Dinosaurs by Malcolm Hulke

12 January - 16 February 1974

"There never was a golden age, Mike. It's all an illusion."​

I'd be remiss not spending a part of this post memorializing Malcolm Hulke. Invasion of the Dinosaurs was his last script for the program, and although he would spend some years further working on novelizations of his own stories for the Target range, he would not contribute to the TV show again. It's a real shame, because I'd consider him one of the most conscientious and clever writers that Doctor Who ever had, and because he died far too young, at the age of 54 in 1979. Although a few of his stories weren't complete successes, there's not a single one that didn't have a lot of heart and wit behind it.

This last script of his is no exception. Coming quick on the heels of The Green Death, which had a more optimistic vision of environmentalism, it's easy to see this story as if it might be a reaction in some way. He must have liked the propaganda tape bit, because the concept is reused from Colony in Space, a story where, if you recall, everyone is packed onto the Earth like hens in a hutch without any space for themselves. The issue of overpopulation is returned to here, but a more critical light is shone upon it.

The timing couldn't be more appropriate, because over the past couple of days, the late Duke of Edinburgh's remarks in the 1980s about "solving" overpopulation have been circulating again - a confusing quote where he says, should reincarnation exist, he'd like to be reborn as a deadly virus. Implicit in this story, though not spelled out directly, is the perfect riposte to this sort of talk: "Overpopulated by whom?"

It's easy for people living in the "developed" world to tut about rising birth rates and depleting resources in the global south, but the types who point this out (at least in my country, and I imagine in Britain as well) fail to understand that it's generally because of a history of colonization, and later exploitation through globalized capitalism, that these countries have these problems. It's because their material wealth, their natural resources, and their manpower were stolen from them that these issues have arisen, not because of something as simple as "too many babies".

We see where this kind of banal rhetoric leads those who fall for it in this story, as Mike Yates, traumatized by the effects of Global Chemicals' mind control and pollution in The Green Death, is duped into believing in a "golden age" before the onset of industrialization when everything was good and right and gentle. After spending three seasons with Yates, for all that I never warmed to him like I did to Benton, it's heartbreaking seeing him fall for this and betray the rest of the regular cast. It's an incredibly brave writing decision, and effective too. The look of hurt on the Doctor's face when he realizes is great, as is the moment soon after when he expresses doubt over whether the Brigadier is also involved. It's clear that the cozy little UNIT family's very existence is now in question.

I was a little worried when the "spaceship" segments were introduced, hoping that the story wouldn't spread itself too thin across both Earth and space, but was relieved by the revelation that (reminiscent of the bunker in The Enemy of the World) the spaceships are a fraud, and they're actually underneath Project Golden Age's control center in London. Looking at the people that Sir Charles Grover has seen fit to preserve for his "New Earth", it's probably unintentional, but certainly apropos, that "the right sort of people" only seem to include white Britons.

It is once again my duty to inform you that, tragically, the dinosaurs don't stand up to standards of scientific rigor, but really, I can't see why the dinosaur puppets are the main thing people talk about with this story. They're really fine, honestly, and the core message is far and away more striking. This is a brilliant story, and one sadly still relevant today, when people make ignorant posts about empty city streets under COVID lockdown where animals are wandering around where they shouldn't be, saying "nature is healing". Nature will never heal until humans find more civilized and equitable ways of distributing resources, and believe it or not, wiping out the entire population and starting over with a blank slate is not the answer.

Sorry for getting political, but I think it's what Mac Hulke would have wanted! Death to the Daleks is next.

KKLAK!

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 11 April 2021.)

The Paradise of Death [Doctor Who, Diversion 25]

The Paradise of Death by Barry Letts

27 August - 24 September 1993​

Flash forward twenty years. Sophie and Sylvester walked off-screen four years ago. The thirtieth anniversary celebrations, such as they are, are underway, and fans can look forward to a charity TV special to mark the occasion a few months away. I didn't live through this, but I have to imagine it was kind of a bum event for Doctor Who fans, who after only four years in the wilderness must have started to realize that no new season was coming any time soon. Something curious, though - Jon Pertwee is Doctor Who in a new serialized adventure, on BBC Radio 5.

Really, the most surreal part of this experience for me is that it's not Big Finish, because they are, these days, more or less the sole purveyors of new Doctor Who audio content. I'm aware that BBC produces some of its own, but they don't tend to be full-cast audio dramas like this. So it's easy to see this as a precursor for The Sirens of Time six years later, which is certainly laudable.

The story itself is really nothing special, but it's so nice to hear Jon Pertwee, Elisabeth Sladen, and Nicholas Courtney all together again after so many years, and a sobering reminder that none of them are with us any longer. The regulars all perform very well, and they're aided by a few good guest performances. The highlight is clearly Peter Miles as Tragan, who manages to make this particular villain feel different from Nyder and Whitaker, while still delightfully slimy. I wish I could compliment Jeremy Fitzoliver, who I think is supposed to be a send-up of the "screaming female companion" stereotype because he's a boy, but quite honestly I just found him terribly annoying.

Barry Letts obviously has no trouble recapturing the feeling of an adventure from this era, this time seeming to focus on the dangers of "Experienced Reality", or in other words, bad television. Parakon is a world that's given up on anything of serious moral character (see the references to the dissolution of the temples) in lieu of watching enemies of the regime be killed in VR broadcasts as a sort of blood sport. It's certainly interesting, but gets a little confused. I have a sense that this script could have used a few more passes to polish it up a bit.

That said, I found this an enjoyable experience. I'll be checking out its twin story later on this season, but for now it's back to 1974 for Invasion of the Dinosaurs next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 10 April 2021.)

Cities Made of Song, 1973

Cities Made of Song, 1973 - Firth of Fifth by Genesis​

The progressive rock streak continues! Although they performed in the same genre, broadly speaking, it's striking how different Genesis and Gentle Giant, who I reviewed last time, really were. Needless to say, Genesis were a fair bit more of a big deal, to the extent that they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame a while back. It's a just recognition for a band that's been named as an influence for so many later artists, and even though the other G-band is more my "favorite" than Genesis is, these guys were still brilliant artists.

Many Genesis fans are quite partisan about what kind of Genesis they actually like, however. After Peter Gabriel left the band in the mid-Seventies and Phil Collins took up the frontman/vocalist role, and especially once Steve Hackett was gone, the group drifted generally in a more pop-oriented direction. Some fans abominate the pop rock tunes they made in the Eighties, while others sigh at the long-winded and more whimsical music of their early years. In essence, the argument revolves around whether or not they "sold out", and whether or not that's a bad thing.

I think it's a bit of a baffling argument, personally. Do people really think Genesis would still have been good if they'd been putting out sprawling, breathless prog epics into the Nineties? They would have gone around the bend long before that if they'd never changed styles. I'm a rare breed, because I love Invisible Touch almost as much as I love, say, The Return of the Giant Hogweed. No fear of change here.

Speaking of selling out, though, it's interesting that this very thing was a preoccupation of the band far earlier in their career. When "Selling England by the Pound" came out, Genesis were fresh off the back of their breakthrough American tour, having just struck it big in that country for the first time. It's telling that their very next album after this was something which is even more consciously and pronouncedly British than their last. Like "Nursery Cryme", a lot of it feels very English fairy tale, from references to locations in the British Isles, to moonlit knights and the joys of a good breakfast. Clearly Genesis weren't content to leave what made them unique behind in order to succeed in new markets.

In terms of personal preference, I'm really fond of Cinema Show/Aisle of Plenty, but Firth of Fifth has to be my favorite. The lyrics aren't much, but the instrumentals are what make this tune so very good. Tony Banks and Steve Hackett absolutely steal the show, the former's piano solo opening and closing the track in such a beguiling way. The guitar solo of the latter might be the most beautiful I've heard in a piece of music, ever. This is an experience, plain and simple.

What an extraordinary band. And do you know what? I don't really care if someone prefers this track over I Can't Dance or not. As long as they're having fun.

Rather than returning straight to television, I'll next be enjoying a curious diversion to The Paradise of Death. See you then.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 10 April 2021.)