The Two Doctors [Doctor Who, Story 140]

The Two Doctors by Robert Holmes
16 February - 2 March 1985
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A foreboding shape looms in my path, and I stop, gulping down my fear. My sonic screwdriver and The Writer's Tale, heretofore wielded as my crucifix and my holy book, fall from limp hands. I thought the evil was defeated long ago, but now it stands before me with a new face: THE SIX-PARTER HAS RETURNED!

After regaining consciousness, I get on with it. Robert Holmes' name is on the title screen, and that's as good a guarantor of quality as any. He clearly hadn't lost his touch when he wrote Androzani after all, and that was just a year ago.

I was accordingly a little bit confused when I sat down to watch this and found the scripting a little untidy and the ideas somewhat unfocused. It feels nothing like the tightly-plotted Androzani, resembling it only in the grim sense of humor that Holmes never lost. What exactly happened?

As I thought about it more, and considered all the moving parts on the screen, it became a little clearer to me. Between the Androgums, and the Sontarans, and having two Doctors, and the need to make the most of the location shooting in Spain, there is a lot for any writer to juggle, even the stalwart Holmes. The blame, in this case, falls on the producer's office for writing up such a lengthy grocery list. (Sontarans in Spanish sauce, with a stuffing of Androgums made from a live Time Lord's DNA...)

All this considered, it is a testament to Holmes' skilled touch as a writer that the end product is watchable. In fact, quite enjoyable, at least for my tastes, even if I did have a few complaints for the chef.

Much of the good is owed to Patrick Troughton and Frazer Hines, together on screen again for the first time in 16 years but instantly settling back into their old routine. ("Look at the size of that thing, Doctor!" "Yes, Jamie. It is a big one." An exchange which sounds nothing like Holmes, but quite a bit like Pat and Frazer having a laugh.) The decision to start the episode off in black and white, even if only for a few moments, takes me right back to Monochrome Malarkey and puts a smile on my face.

I charitably ignore that the console room they're in is the 80s version, with none of Two's lovely clutter, because dammit, these two are good! Getting to see what is essentially a lengthy snippet of a Second Doctor story play out during the first episode is a true delight. Although there are moments I find questionable (like the Doctor calling Jamie's manner of speech an "appalling mongrel dialect"), it feels on the whole as if no time has passed at all. I enjoy the Second Doctor's protestation that he will not be threatened by a computer; it hearkens back to The Invasion in a way that made me grin.

As neither a positive nor a negative, it is a little odd to see the Second Doctor in such an officious role at the beginning, delivering an ultimatum on the behalf of the Time Lords. This plays into the whole "Season 6B" idea, which I can't say I've ever liked much. The Second Doctor feels like he should always be an anarchist; anything else is just perverse.

I suddenly realize just what we're missing from Six and Peri. Two messes with Jamie just as much, but there's always a twinkle. Six and Peri are just too hostile to each other, something cast in starker relief than usual by direct comparison. Something interesting happens, however, when Jamie is briefly grouped up with Six and Peri after his Doctor's kidnapping, as there is briefly a three-person TARDIS team where Jamie seems to balance the two of them out a little. The acid banter has no effect on him as he gamely defuses the tension.

SIX: Well, this begins to have all the hallmarks of a conspiracy.
PERI: What sort of conspiracy?
JAMIE: A plot.

It makes me wonder what might have been if Six had always traveled in a team of three, with somebody to mediate between him and Peri. It might have been for the better.

At any rate, I've lost the plot, and there's quite a bit of it to try and find again. The Second Doctor has apparently been kidnapped for the purposes of extracting the "Rassilon Imprimatur", the symbiotic cellular mass that lets Time Lords pilot TARDISes. The ultimate goal is to sell the secret to the Sontarans.

The chief antagonists in this curious plot are the once-respected scientist Dastari and his charming companion, Chessene of the Franzine Grig. We learn that she is an Androgum, a species with a voracious (some might say incurable) appetite, albeit one who has been "augmented" to dull her cannibalistic instincts. There is also an "unaltered" Androgum about, the curiously named Shockeye of the Quawncing Grig, who certainly likes to chew the scenery...

The interplay between these two Androgums, and how their existences are compared to one another, leads to some interesting, if sometimes uncomfortable implications. The story never really seems to question the inherent hunger and savagery of the Androgums, and Dastari, who believes that augmentations can help with this issue, is treated like a bit of an idiot by both of the Doctors for thinking so.

DASTARI: I've carried out nine augmentations on Chessene. She's at mega-genius level now. I'm very proud of her.
TWO: Proud of her, or your own skill?
DASTARI: Perhaps a little of both, but all that Androgum energy is now functioning on a higher plane. She spends days in the databanks simply sucking in knowledge.
TWO: She's still an Androgum. You can't change nature.
DASTARI: In Chessene's case, I believe I have.
TWO: That's dangerous ground, Dastari. You give a monkey control of its environment, it'll fill the world with bananas.

Dastari eventually decides that the Doctor must be right after he witnesses Chessene, who has held her hunger at bay for the whole story, desperately clamber on the ground to lap up the Doctor's spilled blood. A very powerful, if gross, moment - but one that fails to question the biological essentialism inherent to this story's premise.

The hunger of the Androgums is more broadly used as a commentary on the meat industry and vegetarianism. Holmes, not a vegetarian himself apparently, does not try to cajole everyone into giving up meat, but does invite a critical eye toward how we treat our fellow beings through Shockeye's lurid descriptions of the appeal of human meat, or his callous conversation with Dastari while preparing Jamie for the slaughter.

DASTARI: What are you doing?
SHOCKEYE: Tenderizing the meat. Oh, see how the flesh is marbling. That's the fatty tissue breaking up.
DASTARI: You should kill him first, surely?
SHOCKEYE: It works better on a live animal.
DASTARI: It looks very painful.
SHOCKEYE: That's simply a nervous reflex. I've been butchering all my life. Primitive creatures don't feel pain in the way that we would.

Somewhat lost and adrift among the collision of two TARDIS teams and the weighty concepts brought up by the Androgums, the Sontarans more or less bumble uselessly across this story. It feels a pity that their first appearance since 1978's The Invasion of Time, and their last until 2008's The Sontaran Stratagem, is somewhat wasted. Not as much of a pity as those masks, though. I don't believe for a moment that the art of mask design actually deteriorated in the decade (and some change) since The Time Warrior, but it is pretty damning that something so much older looks so much better. These look stiff and unconvincing.

Among all of this, we're introduced to Oscar Botcherby, a down-on-his luck English actor and sometime lepidopterist, and his charming friend Anita. I liked both of them instantly, and was accordingly a little disappointed when Oscar dies toward the end, stuck like a pig by Shockeye over a dine-and-dash dispute. He ultimately has his due, as his cyanide-laced mothballs - used to snuff out the lives of Oscar's "painted beauties" with the same lack of regard Shockeye has for his sentient victims - are ultimately what kills Shockeye at the end.

The fact that it's the Doctor's hand (the Sixth, since it's necessary to keep track at the moment) that slaps the cloth over Shockeye's mouth is a little hard to stomach. I will grant that the Doctor taking a life is sometimes necessary for the story, when treated with the appropriate weight. I hold that his belief in the sanctity of life is an essential element of the character, and taking one should always be a moral struggle for him. Watching him hold the poisoned cloth close and wrestle Shockeye until he stops struggling just takes me a bit too far away from that.

I chanced upon an interview with veteran Who author Kate Orman from 2005, which happened to mention this story. The interview was focused on this very subject, that of the role of the hero in fantasy as a sort of "sanctioned murderer", and what it means for Doctor Who. She observes that fans tend to forgive the Doctor these moments when he expresses remorse. Here, he clearly does not, ending his enemy's life with a glib remark. I think that pretty much hits the nail on the head.

I'll round out my remarks with a momentary memorial for the magnificent Patrick Troughton. This story marks his final appearance in Doctor Who, as he would pass unexpectedly not very long after, in early 1987. His three returns to the program have all been delightful, and have driven home for me just how essential he was to forging the modern image of the Doctor. A marvelous actor, an interesting guy, and a dedicated ambassador for the program, all wrapped up in one. He will be missed.

That's all for now. Speaking of Kate Orman, we now prepare to return to the literary realm. Trading outer space for cyberspace, Blue Box is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 15 May 2024.)