"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.
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.
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