Seattle International Films [Doctor Who, Diversion 38]

 Seattle International Films
Barbara Benedetti as Doctor Who, by Ryan K. Johnson, Cheryl Read, and T. Brian Wagner

So, here's something a little unconventional for a marathon of this kind. Covering this was not actually a part of my original marathon scheme, but I was unexpectedly contacted by a friend and fellow fan about this quartet of fan-made videos last week. So I figured that as long as I was watching them, I might as well make a thing of it and analyze what they're doing.

For some background, Seattle International Films is for all intents and purposes Ryan K. Johnson. A prolific filmmaker, he's actually still working today. In the 1980s, he, like many American science fiction fans, started to become aware of Doctor Who for the first time, as the show was rapidly gaining popularity in the country. This was partly in response to John Nathan-Turner's vigorous efforts to court the American audience, but it had already been growing in the Seventies, perhaps just an inevitable consequence of the lack of a language barrier. (Well, most of one anyway.)

Motivated by an upcoming fan film competition at the World Science Fiction Convention in LA (Worldcon), Johnson sought to set his project apart from the crowd by creating something that had never been done before: a female Doctor.*

For the lead role, he chose Barbara Benedetti, a Seattle native who was 31 years old at the time and a veteran actor of the stage. She had no idea what Doctor Who even was when acting in the first film, 1984's The Wrath of Eukor, which makes it all the more impressive that she seems to inhabit the part quite easily. She starts off fresh from the Colin Baker Doctor (seeming to place her as an alternate Seventh Doctor), dealing with a strained regeneration in 1911 London. There we also meet her companion Carl Evans, an Edwardian chimney sweep, played by fellow stage performer Randy Rogel. **

Once she's settled in, she acquits herself quite well. I particularly think of the moment where, when menaced by wigged-out Vietnam vets in the forest (the sort of plot you'd only really get in an American production like this), she fearlessly thwaps one of them on the head with her umbrella and tells them off, ultimately getting them on side. Her proud "I am the Doctor" moment toward the end of the story is also very nice. The bits in between are a bit messy, as the alien threat, the eponymous Eukor, doesn't leave much of an impression. But aside from that and some interesting attempts at accents (easily ignored in the interest of reciprocity, considering what Nicola Bryant was doing on the actual TV show at the time) I found the first story rather entertaining.

The crowds at the conventions that The Wrath of Eukor was shown at must have agreed, because this film would spawn three sequels. The next of these is Visions of Otomu from 1986, which sees the Doctor and Carl on their first off-Earth adventure. The shift to exclusively on-set filming definitely strains the capabilities of the production a little, as the quasi-medieval backdrops look a little dog-eared and end up being distracting. The characters aren't much to write home about either, with the "reverse Leela" Princess Aldraina probably being the most memorable.

There are some parts of Visions of Otomu I quite liked however, such as the eponymous villain drawing from a tarot deck and finding the Doctor to be 0 - The Fool, which is apropos. As she seemingly exists beyond his ability to scry, he's unable to glean anything useful about her movements. There's also Carl gaining a penchant for eating junk food and watching TV, as we see him enjoying Singing in the Rain. Such are the inevitable effects of modernity on poor, unsuspecting historical companions, so often unexplored. Later on the Doctor succeeds in hypnotizing him to react to the words "Gene Kelly" to make him dance and sing. Surprisingly, he ends up being pretty good at it. "I'm better than I thought!" she remarks in astonishment, earning a good laugh from me.

While both of the first two films are good fun, the productions get noticeably better and more confident as they go, with the first standout being the third, 1987's Pentagon West: A Doctor in the House. This one feels quite different, which is partly because it wasn't originally a Doctor Who fan film at all. Intended as a pilot for an unrelated sci-fi series, Johnson ultimately decided to put the Doctor and Carl into it, albeit in a slightly reduced role that makes this resemble a "Doctor Lite" story.

Instead we follow a cast of five university students (graduate students maybe - they seem a bit on the older side) at an unnamed university, presumably in Seattle, who are curious about their professor's claims to have discovered a miraculous cure for cancer. As the Doctor noses around however, they discover that their professor, a man named Dr. Komar, is being influenced by a mysterious force from another dimension. The thing is, it actually does work as a cancer cure, and we discover that Komar desires it because of his own inoperable cancer. This is heartbreaking in hindsight, for reasons I'll remark on later.

However, as it appears that letting this energy run rampant could risk destroying the entire universe, the Doctor is compelled to stop Komar. He dies in the process and the potential cure is lost, leading the Pentagon West crew to call the Doctor out. Her response is interesting and, I think, quite Doctor-ish:

DOCTOR: I can live with what I did – what about you? Now that this has happened, what are you going to do tomorrow?​

The story ends in a bit of a rush, but it genuinely impressed me a good deal. By this point however, opportunities to explore this version of the Doctor were running short, as both Johnson and Benedetti were starting to feel the fatigue. The next story, 1988's Broken Doors, would be her Doctor's swansong.

The first sight that greets us in that film is a quarry. Yay!! Finally! It really was proper Who after all. The Doctor and Carl are lost, but follow a bouncing orange (a running gag with the production) into an abandoned structure where they find an ominous note assuring them that they will find only what they bring with them ahead. After stepping through a door, the pair are separated, with the Doctor in a white room with a grid on the floor and Carl in an open field somewhere.

The Doctor proceeds to repeat the floor game from Death to the Daleks or Pyramids of Mars or The Five Doctors... again. Which I could honestly only interpret as pastiche, and duly laughed at. The proper sequence of letters to step across it safely is "DEATH", natch. As she throws jelly babies to suss out the bad squares, we see Carl dodging matching explosions on his end, suggesting that the two places are somehow connected.

With the grid out of the way, both of them emerge into a darkened room full of suspended mirrors. It's all obviously on the cheap, but the atmosphere and the lighting help to make it feel genuinely eerie and surreal. On Carl's end, he finds a laser pistol and is menaced by an armored knight, while the Doctor encounters a masked figure known as "the Manager" who introduces himself as "the totality of all your hopes, dreams, and fears." He confirms that the Doctor and Carl have ended up in an alternate dimension. The consciousness she speaks with is actually the gestalt or manifestation of this dimension itself, who professes to enjoying setting challenges for its visitors.

It says she has won, and bids her to come and claim her prize. As she steps closer, a mirror turns and reflects the light in a strange way, and we find ourselves in the same room, but now with Carl warning the knight not to come any closer or he will shoot. In one fateful instant, Carl does, and the illusion fades - leaving him to realize that they've both been tricked, and he's just shot the Doctor dead.

MANAGER: The game is never over, Doctor. And the prize is never won.
MANAGER: Broken doors. Broken dreams. It's all the same thing. A door's purpose is to conceal the contents of the room, and dreams are the doors of the mind.

With those ominous words, we find the Doctor and Carl back on the TARDIS again, as if they had never left, while the Manager grins and pulls down its hood to show Benedetti's own face. A distraught Carl watches as the Doctor becomes a new man, bringing this adventure to its final end.

I must note that the actor the Doctor regenerates into - Michael Santos - is the same actor who portrayed the Manager, and Komar in the previous episode for that matter. I smell a body-snatching conspiracy! Or so I'm tempted to speculate. We'll never know where the story might have gone after this, as Broken Doors was the final Who project from Johnson.

The timing is somewhat appropriate, as the project reached its sunset at about the same time that Classic Who did. And despite clearly being an amateur production, I think that these films did an excellent job of capturing the energy and tone of Classic Who, with the latter two stories in particular being well worth watching.

The presence of a female Doctor is also very noteworthy, as aside from a couple of wisecracks about hormones in the first story (me too, sister), it's barely ever made relevant to the story. I think it's quite forward-thinking that these fans, and the actress of course, were able to realize all the important aspects of the character in a recognizable way, thirty years before the actual show tried its own first female Doctor.

Sadly, Broken Doors would be one of Barbara Benedetti's last projects. She passed away in 1991 at the tragically young age of 38 after a battle with cancer, and is remembered fondly by those who worked with her. It's unfortunate that, as most of her roles in her career were on stage and she did very few recorded performances, it's impossible to see most of her acting parts today. I think she was a quite capable actor and would have liked to have seen more from her.

Although these films, and so many other fan projects of the burgeoning fandom in the Eighties, are more or less a footnote today, I view them as important to assess and preserve just the same. They are the precursors of so many other projects today - some of them even official. This set of four very promising films actually broadcast on Seattle public access TV several times over the years. They influenced many fans way back when, and I have to admit, they've had an effect on me today, forty years after the first one was made.

With that diversion completed, we will now begin our journey through what might have been Season 23 with The Nightmare Fair, coming up next.

* Your mileage may vary on the truth of that. In any case I was not able to turn up any earlier female Doctors in any media, official or not.
** Rogel ended up having a successful career as a writer for animated TV shows in the 90s. Among my generation he's most famous for writing the countries of the world song for WB/Amblin's Animaniacs.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 21 May 2024.)

Cities Made of Song, 1985

 Cities Made of Song, 1985 - Cloudbusting by Kate Bush

 

"'Cause every time it rains
You're here in my head
Like the sun coming out
Ooh, I just know that something good is gonna happen"​

As we pass through 1985, the trajectory of the marathon intersects with the career of one of my favorite artists: Kate Bush. Born to a musically-inclined family in 1958, Bush was just 16 years old when a demo reel of her music caught the attention of David Gilmour (whose music, maybe not coincidentally, I've talked about on here before). With his financial backing, a second demo tape, with more professional polish, would soon convince EMI to sign on the teenage Bush as their newest artist.

Breaking into the UK charts with her single Wuthering Heights off of her debut album "The Kick Inside" in 1978, she cemented a place for herself in the largely male-dominated world of pop music by becoming the first female artist to ever reach #1 with a self-written song.

In 1985, she released the magisterial "Hounds of Love", which for my money is her best. Sort of like a pop music spin on progressive rock, it tells a sweeping story of lost love, dreams, and recurring nightmares. The first song on the album, Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) just recently had a renewed spike in popularity thanks to Stranger Things, which I think is richly deserved. It's astonishing that she never had another #1 single between Wuthering Heights and 2022.

All the songs on "Hounds of Love" are riveting, but Cloudbusting is the one that piques my curiosity the most. With its steady, driving beat and lush orchestral instrumentation, it sounds almost warm and comforting, but the lyrics are very melancholic. It's only recently that I really sat down to research what it was actually about, and boy, was that a rabbit hole.

The song was based on the autobiography of Peter Reich, the son of the immensely influential and iconoclastic psychiatrist Wilhelm Reich. The elder Reich's life and thought are a vast and convoluted topic which is far beyond the scope of this post, but his Wikipedia page certainly made for some fascinating reading. Suffice it to say for our purposes that he was a bit eccentric, particularly in his later years after moving to America, where the young Peter grew up and enjoyed a close relationship with his father. Living together at Orgonon, Reich's estate in Maine, Peter joined his father in several experiments, including so-called "cloudbusting" machines which were meant to induce rain from the clouds.

At first for his communist sympathies, and later for alleged fraud and quackery, Wilhelm Reich came under the scrutiny of the FBI, and was ultimately arrested and imprisoned in 1957. This moment was witnessed by Peter, who was just 12 or 13, something which must have left a deep imprint. Wilhelm ultimately did not survive his imprisonment, passing away mere months later of a heart attack.

"I hid my yo-yo in the garden
I can't hide you from the government
Oh, God, Daddy, I won't forget"​

Normally one expects parents to protect their children and not the other way around, but the way that this song describes the narrator's feelings shows that our relationships to our parents are never that simple. When you're a kid, they seem invincible, but as you grow up, you gradually realize how flawed and complicated they are, and how much they sometimes need protecting themselves. I can only imagine how traumatic it is to have that illusion shattered early, as we see here.

Kate Bush is so good at painting pictures with her words, and her unflinching sureness in her artistic vision has long been one of her defining qualities. There are numerous instances where she fought her record label on certain decisions and was proved right basically every time. She didn't care about any of the marketing BS, she just wanted to put her very best music out there for those who would appreciate it. I find it remarkable that she didn't have a single concert between 1979 and 2014, and seemed to like it that way. The song says that "what made you special made you dangerous", but she wears her uniqueness unashamed. It's an example worth emulating.

Up next, another diversion, as we delve for the first time into the world of fan films. See you then.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 21 May 2024.)

Doctor Who, Season 22

 

Here we are again. For all that I've been enjoying Season 22, it's impossible to deny that things seem to be going very wrong on the production side of Doctor Who during this period. In the episodes that work, there are still some glaring issues that jump out: the failure of the Doctor-companion relationship, the recalcitrance of the script writer, and the over-reliance on past glories being just some of these. And when the episodes do not work, they fail in spectacular fashion.

Another part of the problem is the shift to 2x45 minute serials as the basic model instead of the older 4x25 minute ones. As a New Series fan I felt I should be accustomed to this when I was starting off, but in this season it's obvious that they have not quite mastered the format, as things either feel awkwardly stretched out or painfully compressed at times. This experiment seems to have failed, as we're back to the traditional format again next season...

Assuming there is going to be a "next season". Stunned fans and cast members have just been made aware that the show has been cancelled, after all. So, inevitably, it is going to be a little while until we actually make it to the broadcast version of Season 23.

Before we start our walk down that long, strange road, however, here are the score breakdowns for the season:

Attack of the Cybermen - 4.50
Part One - 6.00
Part Two - 3.00

Vengeance on Varos - 9.00
Part One - 9.00
Part Two - 9.00

The Mark of the Rani - 8.00
Part One - 8.00
Part Two - 8.00

The Two Doctors - 8.00
Part One - 8.00
Part Two - 8.00
Part Three - 8.00

Timelash - 3.50
Part One - 4.00
Part Two - 3.00

Revelation of the Daleks - 10.00
Part One - 10.00
Part Two - 10.00

Best episode: Revelation of the Daleks, Part Two - 10.00
Runner-up: Revelation of the Daleks, Part One - 10.00
Worst episode: Timelash, Part Two - 3.00

Season 22 average: 7.23

Best guest appearance: Nabil Shaban as Sil (Vengeance on Varos)
Best special effect: The head of Stengos in the glass Dalek (Revelation of the Daleks)
Best musical score: The Two Doctors (Peter Howell)

1985 was a great year for music, so I'm sure my selection for the upcoming Cities Made of Song post will be a bit of a mystery. Stay tuned...

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 19 May 2024.)

Revelation of the Daleks [Doctor Who, Story 142]

 Revelation of the Daleks by Eric Saward
23 - 30 March 1985​

At some point a few years ago, I became dimly aware of Revelation of the Daleks for the first time, through someone's review, or a clip show on YouTube, or... something, at any rate. I got a clear enough idea of the plot to become convinced that this story was going to be a favorite.

When I reached Resurrection in the last season, that expectation turned to worry. The first of the Re trilogy of Dalek stories did nothing to inspire confidence in me, since I found it unimaginatively violent and unpleasant to watch. The notion that Revelation might go wrong for me in the same way was on my mind as I made my way through Season 22.

Fortunately, the gods smile on us all from time to time, and I was delighted to find that Revelation lived up to my expectations. Eric Saward has been a hard writer for me to pin down so far; he's turned in the fairly good Visitation, the fantastic Earthshock, the execrable Resurrection and Attack of the Cybermen, and finally this. When he doesn't lean too hard on action commandos and pure grit, his stories are, on average, quite strong. But he isn't without his weaknesses; for instance, his infamous dislike for the Sixth Doctor.*

It's accordingly no surprise that Colin is sidelined for most of the story, held at an arm's remove from the plot until part of the way through the second episode. He takes forever to get inside Tranquil Repose, and never even sees what's become of Arthur Stengos, the man whose funeral he came to Necros to attend (a stunning scene in its own right, nevertheless). Once he does get into the story though, I have no complaints, as he seems a little gentler and more Doctor-ish than he has been so far this season. His outrage at Davros isn't as overblown as some of his other villain chinwags have been, and his pained expression of worry when he hears over the intercom that the DJ has been killed and Peri captured is a nice little touch.

Although I'd rather that the Doctor was incorporated into the story a little better, the story itself is strong enough not to be too adversely affected by this. I've thought a few times over his last few contributions that Saward was seeking to emulate Robert Holmes. If that's true, then it's here that he finally manages to pull it off. The black humor of this script is up there with some of Holmes' best, and its reliance on "double acts" (as Bostock lampshades) is basically right out of that playbook. The large cast of side characters is memorable and well-realized. My favorite happens to be the DJ, whose brief acquaintance with Peri is very sweet.

Davros is brilliant here, as duplicitous and conniving as he ever is. The conversation where he outlines the full shape of his plan to the Doctor is just jaw-dropping!

DAVROS: All the resting ones I have used were people of status,ambition. They would understand, especially as I have given them the opportunity to become masters of the universe!
DOCTOR: With you as their emperor. But what of the lesser intellects? Or will they be left to rot?
DAVROS: You should know me better than that, Doctor.
DAVROS: I never waste a valuable commodity. The humanoid form makes an excellent concentrated protein. This part of the galaxy is developing quickly. Famine was one of its major problems.
DOCTOR: You've turned them into food?
DAVROS: A scheme that has earned me great acclaim.
DOCTOR: But did you bother to tell anyone they might be eating their own relatives?
DAVROS: Certainly not. That would have created what I believe is termed consumer resistance. They were grateful for the food. It allowed them to go on living.
DOCTOR: Until you take over their planets.
DAVROS: Precisely.

Having watched Remembrance in the past, it's interesting to see the Dalek civil war originally set up in Resurrection start to come into shape. The white "Imperial" Daleks look great, and the glass Daleks with partially converted humans inside are grisly in the best of ways.

I think we all share common anxieties about the sanctity of the dead and their grave sites. Like the later Dark Water / Death in Heaven, Revelation digs into this anxiety to make the viewer squirm. I feel like this is the type of story people will either love or hate, but for my part I couldn't get enough of it.

The Doctor and Peri seem more assured than ever at the end, when the Doctor says, "Fun? Oh, I suppose anywhere will be peaceful after Necros. All right, I'll take you to..."

Well? Where? There is going to be a next episode... right?

* This isn't to say that disliking the Sixth Doctor is necessarily a flaw... Just that I think if you're the script editor of the program, then you'd probably better suck it up and get on with it instead of having a snit and letting it affect your writing.

Our wrap-up for Season 22 is up next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 19 May 2024.)

Davros [Doctor Who, Diversion 37]

 Davros by Lance Parkin
19 September 2003

​I will not die! I WILL NOT DIE! THIS IS NOT THE END! THIS IS ONLY... THE BEGINNING!​

 

 

And with that, Terry Molloy earned his paycheck and then some. I've always thought he was a brilliant Davros, going off of Remembrance, the few clips I'd seen of Revelation, and this audio of course. It's good to have my opinion reinforced by listening to this for what was actually my second time.

The singular nature of the title is quite appropriate, since Davros is never far away from his creations in any of his TV appearances. For once, the Daleks are nowhere to be seen, and he commands pride of place for himself. This gives us an opportunity to peel back the layers and get a better look at what makes this character tick.

Through flashbacks to his time on Skaro, we learn about his fascination - and his resentment - for fellow scientist Shan, a female Kaled. Davros, frustrated by his feelings for her and jealous of her genius, claimed credit for her conceptualization of the Daleks and then contrived a reason to have Shan disposed of. He denies his own humanity (for lack of a better word) and ability to feel emotions, seething in resentment and fixating himself upon his work. It's a tragic trait at first, but we know where it leads in the end, of course. His transformation from a pitiable figure to one of the most evil people in the universe is traced very capably by this story.

The all-important dissection of his relationship with the Doctor is another aspect of this exploration, and is far and away the most crucial part of the audio. Every moment that Davros and Six are in dialogue, the thing just sings. Just as in Genesis of the Daleks (or, later on, in The Magician's Apprentice/The Witch's Familiar) there is a lot of potential to mine with this duo, the ways that they reflect each other, and their perspectives about the other.

Davros has once again been revived by people who should know better, and after being fed a slimy corporate sizzle reel, he is hired on as a resident scientific adviser. The Doctor insists on joining up as well in order to keep an eye on Davros. Sleazy corporate monopolist Arnold Baynes is about to turn the Doctor down, but Davros gives an honest appraisal of the Doctor's worthiness anyway, as if he can't help but to admire him a bit, which convinces Baines to keep him around. This makes for a really interesting moment, illuminating just how much Davros respects the Doctor, in his own way.

For a bit, we're kept wondering whether it's possible for Davros to reform and change his ways, as he's intrigued by the possibility of becoming a humanitarian (double entendre absolutely intentional) and seems to open up a little to Lorraine Baynes (played by our old friend Wendy Padbury). After looking the possibility in the face, however, he still chooses to remain true to himself, however for the ill it may be.

I really like the way that this audio ties into Revelation of the Daleks; in that story's second episode, the Doctor notes that the last time he saw Davros, he was on a ship that exploded. That's Resurrection, obviously, but this audio manages to slot in by having Davros on a different exploding ship. I had a good chuckle about that one. This audio also sets up Davros' career as the "Great Healer", showing how his discovery that Kaled protein pills were potentially made from corpses ultimately inspires his "solution" for the galaxy's hunger later on.

Beyond all this, it's just flat out one of the best Big Finish audios I've listened to so far. We have quite a few other good ones for the Sixth Doctor coming up soon, but for now, we have the perfect segue into Revelation of the Daleks, which is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 18 May 2024.)

Timelash [Doctor Who, Story 141]

 Timelash by Glen McCoy
9 - 16 March 1985​

I was pretty prepared to offer Timelash the same open-minded reappraisal that I did for The Twin Dilemma on an assumption which has generally served me well so far: that most episodes reviled by the fandom are not quite as bad as their reputations would suggest. Even the worst episodes tend to have at least a little kernel worth redeeming, tarnished though the gems in the rough might be.

With Timelash I sifted, and sifted, and was rewarded only with more dirt. There's genuinely nothing here really worth praising. It's a complete cock-up.

The sad part is that I can sort of see how and why it happened. Glen McCoy was new to writing for television at the time and got thrown into the deep end on a season that was already having some major production issues. Eric Saward ended up needing to do extensive rewrites on this script, and the end product still looked like this. It's honestly kind of astonishing this made it to television at all; I can't imagine that we're better for it.

The script is obviously the biggest issue. Lines like "with the power of a great ocean!" or "you microcephalic apostate!" or "a Morlox with a slinky walk" put anything Pip and Jane conjured up to shame. The concept of a past Third Doctor visit is shoehorned in so painfully that the cracks around it show. Tekker (played by Paul Darrow, who is absolutely wasted on this) looks like a total idiot for not twigging that the Borad is a baddie earlier. And the Borad himself, while looking kind of cool, is just a Great Value Sharaz Jek with nothing interesting going on.

The actors seem painfully aware of all this, and are either subdued in their performance or hamming it up, depending on the case. Colin and Nicola seem particularly distracted and disinterested in the material. (I know the feeling.) With the leads checked out, everything else falls to pieces around them.

The production design is uninteresting, the ideas that aren't just crap from the beginning (the singing androids? seriously?) end up as merely wasted potential. Like, we got a celebrity historical with H. G. Wells and the chance was blown on this? If there's any one serial in the show that's grounds for cancellation, it's not The Twin Dilemma, it's Timelash. Its only saving grace is that it's over and I won't have to watch it ever again.

I dislike making negative reviews. Fortunately, Davros is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 17 May 2024.)

Doctor Who and the Mines of Terror [Doctor Who, Diversion 36]

 Doctor Who and the Mines of Terror by Micro Power
April 1985

​

While chatting with dad about the Commodore 64 and taking notes for my Blue Box review, it occurred to me that the first Doctor Who video games appeared during the 1980s. Putting several of the various Who games into my marathon is something that occurred to me a while back, but I sort of lost track of time. Well, no time like the present.

After a quick search, I find that every Commodore 64 game ever made (more or less...) is available to emulate in-browser on various different sites. Saves me the effort of downloading and configuring a discrete emulator, I think happily. I click on the link for Doctor Who and the Mines of Terror.

I'm about to start when I recall that built-in tutorial features generally didn't exist yet in 1985 (or '86, when the Commodore port came out), and check to see if the game's manual is anywhere on the emulation site. No... Time to go looking.

After spending some more time combing search engine results, I was able to find one site with a ZIP full of scans for this game. When I download it, I'm greeted with an in-your-face plot blurb on the back of the box:

Are you ready for brain to brain combat?

Ultimate risk scenario. Your intervention urgently requested. The Master planning to use the Doctor's brain in modified TIRU (Time Instant Replay Unit) to produce chaos weapon. Time-warping mineral, Heatonite, a critical component. Mine/Factory 2nd Moon Rijar. Ky-Al-Nargath construction. Mega secure!!!! Madrag (genetically boosted saurian) + psycho-robotics + techno trickery. Force futile. Weapon skills N.A. Machine skill vital. Full cerebral combat status needed at all times. Halt Heatonite production. Disable TIRU. Locate and regain plans. Impossible to stress too fully the importance of the Rijan mission. Invisible cat could prove most useful.​

Invisible cat...?

A look at the various "top secret" manuals bundled in tells me all I need to know about the Doctor's ever-loyal robotic animal sidekick. Splinx! Yes, I struggled not to make a SPLINK joke too. You're very brave to resist it.

Splinx is an essential tool for the Doctor in this game, as she can move about invisibly and store items within her hyperspace load module, which is good since the Doctor himself apparently only has four slots in his pockets. A lot of the gameplay appears to revolve around using Splinx to distract enemies and solve puzzles. This can get a bit sophisticated, as we see here, where the developers felt the need to take explicit detail to tell you how to get out of the first area:

The trick is to use Splinx to distract the beast. Move left from the TARDIS and climb down the first ladder. [...]
Call up the Splinx command menu and instruct her as follows:
Goto marker (The one near the egg.)
Pick up object (An egg in this case.)
Goto marker (The one dropped near the ladder.)
Drop object (Splinx will leave the egg.)
Return (Splinx will attempt to return to the Doctor.) [...]​

​

I decide I will give the game a try in spite of my misgivings, and load up the Commodore version. After a brief glimpse of the boot screen, I'm right into the game without much more fanfare, standing next to Splinx outside the TARDIS.

​

Isn't she a precious little moggy? The first thing that strikes me is that the game doesn't look half bad for '86, although the music, a chiptune rendition of "Overture" from Bizet's Carmen, gets grating rather quickly. I mute the game audio and begin to explore.

I quickly notice a problem as I try to acquaint myself with the controls. The hotkeys for actions listed in the manual clearly do not align with the game I'm playing. I realize what's going on after looking things over more closely: the documentation I downloaded is for the BBC Micro version, and the controls for the Commodore version are different.

A search for the Commodore version's manual and documentation seems to turn up nothing, so I resolve to carry on through experimentation. I find out how to move about, jump, and climb up and down ladders easily enough. Finding the Splinx menu proves harder, but I do eventually locate it. Making use of it is another matter entirely. I find out how to scroll between options, but not how to select them. Trying each key on my keyboard systematically only gets me stuck in a boot screen that I can't seem to exit. I reboot the program and eventually accept the inevitability that I won't work this bit out on my own. I make the questionable choice to go on and see how far I can get without Splinx's aid.

While Quinn watches me fumble around the mines (of terror), they read off a history of the game from Wikipedia and inform me that it was originally being developed as a different game and had Doctor Who painted over it late in development. That's very "of the era", I gather; I can't imagine any game being developed in such a way today unless it was really on the cheap.

We also learn that a pickaxe is essential for progress, so as long as I'm struggling to master the hyperdimensional kitty cat, I figure I might as well go and grab one of those. After some exploration I find a Rijan miner working hard on a rock face. As I observe, they stop, walks over, and drop their pick when a second Rijan comes down to meet them. Excited, I rush over and try to pick up the item.

 

​

Unfortunately, I can't find the right key. I spend at least five minutes trying a different key each time the interaction happens. In the end I only succeed in soft locking the game a few more times. The game audio is still muted, but I imagine that, somewhere in my head, I can still hear Carmen, plucking tinnily away. I decide discretion is the better part of valor and try to locate the BBC Micro version of the game so I can line my gaming experience up with the manuals.

Fortunately, I do find it, and click my heels together in joy. Unlike the Commodore version, I get to see some charming screens before starting the game proper, including a Star Wars style opening crawl and a very... interesting portrait of Colin Baker. I am pleasantly surprised by an 8-bit rendition of the Howell theme playing over the title screen.

I immediately notice that the graphics are not quite up to par with the Commodore version, but the map appears to be identical and Splinx is still cute. With optimism in my heart, I begin to make my way around. Soon I also notice that unlike the Commodore version, where the camera follows the Doctor seamlessly, here there's a second of loading time whenever the Doctor reaches the edge of the "screen". As I make my way back down to the same spot where I tried to pick up the pickaxe before, I ponder the peculiarity of the fact that you play as yourself in this game, aiding the Doctor from afar, and not as the Doctor himself. I hum "Toreador" while dropping down the ladders.

​

Once in the same pit where I found the miners last time, I find them absent and realize that this version is a bit different in terms of its item placement too. There is no sign of the pickaxe, but I spot a different object on the ground. After consulting with the helpful image key provided with among the game's paper materials, I learn it's something called a "packing case". Huzzah! Now how do I get it out of my hands?

​

Upon further investigations, I manage to put the item away in my inventory and feel very proud of myself. With the packing case of dubious use in tow, I begin to ascend further, evading some legally distinct not-a-daleks and try to see what's up this way.

​

Things go a little wrong at this point, as while trying to hit the key to ascend the ladder after pausing for a second, I inadvertently open up to this load/save screen that I can't figure out how to exit, forcing me to reboot the game.

​

By the time I'm loaded in again, I decide it's time to stop messing around and attempt to bypass the Madrags with Splinx's help, just like the guide suggested. Things take a terrible turn when I try to select the commands in Splinx's menu. I'm once again faced with an inescapable screen, this time a BBC Micro Acorn command screen. I sweat as I realize that, unlike my dad, my skills with BASIC are pretty paltry indeed, and the one command I know doesn't happen to do anything.

​

After hard rebooting the game and trying to negotiate with the Splinx menu again, I nevertheless arrive on the command screen once more. Quinn watches in concern. I think I hear Carmen playing again, in the far recesses of my mind...

​

It seems I'm doomed to repeat this cycle. Perhaps I'm succumbing to the Master's psychic attacks. I'm not ready for brain to brain combat after all. No escape. No hope. No! Stop, you're making me giddy! No, no, no!

​

Sooner or later, I come back to my senses and conclude that maybe the real terror was the mines we found along the way. I concede defeat and close the game for good, with the assumption that I probably wasn't missing very much. It was a fun diversion, but it's time to come back to reality.

Timelash is next.

... Can I just go back to the mines of Rijan instead?

 

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 May 2024.)

 

Blue Box [Doctor Who, Diversion 35]

 Blue Box by Kate Orman
3 March 2003

​

I can't remember a world without computers. By the time I was born in 1994, the World Wide Web had already existed for four years, and by the time that I was old enough to operate our old HP machine (the first personal computer in our household, running Windows 98 at the time), more than half of the world's two-way telecommunications were happening online. The number today is well over 97%.

I got my start exploring Google Images (and later Wikipedia, once that was a thing) and spent many of my formative years on web forums for my various interests. I was a precocious lass who learned to read quite early, so by the time that I had my first typing class in fifth grade (around 2005), I had long since mastered the QWERTY keyboard and was desperately bored because I had little use for the lessons.

My dear dad does remember the time before widespread home computing, of course, and was just about the right age to jump on the bandwagon, turning 14 around the time this book is set. So I sent him a text to ask him what the transition was like, and get his own perspective on the subject and events of Blue Box.

His first computer was a Tandy TRS-80 Model III, a machine with only 4Ks of RAM without buying additional expansions. This was more than enough for regular use in the early 80s, and dad made frequent use of it indeed, teaching himself BASIC and Hex to go "data mining" in the various programs his family bought. (Presumably on cassette, as he was only able to install a floppy drive a few years later after saving up extra for it.)

Around 1985, the old TRS-80 was donated away when dad went off to college, and was replaced with the formidable Commodore 64. This was the machine he used to connect with the early Internet for the first time, with the help of a dial-up service called Quantum Link (or Q-Link) which he remembered being rather pricey. Supposedly grandpa once gave him a talking-to for racking up the phone bill using this rig. For shame...

Interestingly enough (but not surprisingly perhaps, as I've previously related his history with the fandom), it seems that one of his formative online experiences in this period involved posting in bulletin board groups about Doctor Who. He says he contributed to an online episode guide for American fans, specifically rounding out the last missing episodes on the list with some information on the Sylvester McCoy Doctor. I couldn't find any trace of it today (albeit with only a cursory look), but I'm reliably told it had some godawful dot matrix art of a Dalek on the front page.

All things considered, his experiences were mostly only different from mine in the particulars of the technology. I guess the more things change, the more they really do stay the same. Having heard all about it from someone who was there, I'm assured of the authenticity of the computing landscape illustrated by Blue Box, and I'm inclined to think that Kate Orman had first-hand experience with these machines and networks herself.

Blue Box vaguely resembles Who Killed Kennedy in its narration style, told as an in-universe book published by Australian journalist Charles "Chick" Peters. This time, the narrator is firmly embroiled in the Doctor's adventure, so this is far more Doctor-centric than the aforementioned novel. The chapter titles, given as numbers in various types of computer syntax, help to set the tone.

Cyber crime is a major subject in Blue Box, which depicts a time when ordinary people and law enforcement alike were still somewhat innocent to the idea of cybersecurity risks. The first computer fraud actually happened all the way back in 1970, but it was only the emergence of the early Internet which allowed hacking and cyber fraud to really blossom, a time period which is portrayed in this book.

The harbinger here of this all-digital future is chief antagonist Sarah Swan, a ruthless, "fuck you, got mine", Reagan-era yuppie entrepreneur, who enjoys controlling the lives of others by means of their digital footprint. She finds her match in the Doctor, whose people probably see human technology like a child's toy. He still gets really into the hacker persona and seems to have a great deal of fun modifying his Apple II and playing cat-and-mouse with Swan.

It is a little funny seeing the Sixth Doctor in a Kate Orman book; she's most famous for writing for the Seventh and Eighth Doctors, who couldn't be more different from Six. She still captures Six's personality beautifully, while making him a little more likable than his Season 22 counterpart. I enjoyed him quoting a poem extolling the virtues of the domestic cat (‘For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command,’ non-explained the Doctor), and reading a collection of B. Kliban's cat comics.

The reactions of other characters to him amused me. For example: Chick Peters remarking, "I bet in school you were the kid who always ate the Playdough", or suggesting the Doctor might be an art thief (truer than he knows). He also gets a much-needed costume change, albeit in a medium where we can't see him: a black Bond suit with a neon technicolor cat-print necktie.

Peri also gets to wear jeans and a sweatshirt, bless her. There isn't much botany to be done in this book, but she still gets plenty to do and feels more well-rounded than she ever did on TV. She's in her native America for once, and seems at ease with navigating the pizza parlor and local hotels toward the start of the story, as well as galloping around with the Doctor and company later on when on the run from Swan and the law.

The book makes an able attempt at sketching out the relationship between Six and Peri. Their banter is a bit more good-natured than it was on TV, but we still learn that Peri is considering leaving the Doctor now that she's in a setting resembling her own time and space. In the end, she chooses not to. She explains their bond to Chick as one formed through a common traumatic situation (presumably The Caves of Androzani), which is interesting.

This whole thread is even more interesting in light of the book's primary alien antagonist (more of a MacGuffin), the Eridani creation the Doctor calls the "Idiot Savant". The Savant is biologically engineered to learn computer languages in the same way a child acquires natural languages, allowing it to rewrite and hack into any computer system, no matter how complex. This ultimately includes the "biological computer" of the human mind as well, which it seems to control via pheromones. It passively rewrites the minds of those who spend the most time around it in order to make them feel attached to it and interested in keeping it safe, even at the cost of their own lives.

Although the Doctor obviously isn't doing that same sort of thing to Peri, the book does still draw a bit of a parallel in suggesting their relationship to be somewhat toxic and codependent in nature, something which is definitely a lot more interesting than whatever we got on screen.

The theme of privacy and personal information is even extended to gender identity, as we learn, late in the book, about something that Chick has been hiding from the reader and the others: that he's intersex and a transgender man. This totally took me off-guard, even though it was hinted at earlier in the book in retrospect, since I didn't expect much in the way of gender diversity from a twenty year-old Doctor Who tie-in. As a trans person myself, I was absolutely delighted; Chick is a pretty cool character in general, is written sensitively, and is not stereotyped.

Curiously, Chick isn't the only character that's brought up in the context of gender identity; when the Doctor is exploring a MUD environment (that brought me way back), the narration remarks about his in-game avatar, "The Doctor didn’t bother with details like appearance or even gender," and Peri says something rather interesting after Chick comes out to her:

‘Oh... I guess I see. You know, it’s funny. I’m sort of surrounded. The Doctor also –’ she stopped short, colour jumping into her cheeks. ‘Uh, never mind.’

This seems to be drawing a comparison between transitioning one's gender and Time Lord regeneration, something which I'll definitely talk about more than once over the course of this marathon.

The emergence of the Internet, and the widespread prevalence of computing technology in general, are historically very recent phenomena, and it doesn't seem like they're going to stop evolving anytime soon. My lived experience of becoming acquainted with the World Wide Web is already a thing of the past. Now toddlers go about with iPads in hand, and may never make more than incidental use of PCs in their lives.

The average formative online experience is probably now something more like 6 hours a day of Frozen or Spider-Man asset flip videos, at least until kids are old enough to make use of social media mobile apps. After asking around, I learned that the schools in my area no longer offer typing classes like they did when I was a kid; children now learn to type even earlier than I did, albeit making use of non-tactile touch screen keyboards instead of the physical type.

Already the web forums and blogs of my younger years are considered somewhat obsolete (present company excluded, naturally), replaced by more centralized services controlled by corporate monopolies. Many old sites and online resources I made use of in my youth have already disappeared forever into the digital aether, and the Web is full of abandoned sites and accounts - ghosts in the machine.

2003 is just as distant now as 1982 was when this book was published. Hacker Bob Salmon's dialogue about an all-digital future where "people [talk] in sentences that they’ve actually thought about first" was funny in 2003, and is absolutely hilarious now. The capabilities of the Web have expanded, but so have its dangers. The first real cybersecurity laws came into force in the States in the later Eighties, but I was alarmed to discover in the course of my research that, even today, there are still some glaring holes in cyber crime legislation.

As technology has become more and more centralized and corporatized, the general population now seem to be actively discouraged from repairing their own devices or learning how the various applications we rely upon actually work. Companies like Apple have created our very own generation of "idiot savants" who can use all their apps and products with ease, but are generally forbidden from trying to pick them apart like my dad used to do.

This decline in computer literacy is especially concerning when you consider how cyber crime has grown more sophisticated in the last twenty years. I find myself worrying over the idea of the situation somehow getting even worse as more of the population gets online, while less and less of them know how to keep themselves safe while doing so.

Maybe I just despair over this because I'm growing older. Or because I work in the tech support field. Time will tell if I'm wrong; it always does.

Preview illustration of Blue Box by Roger Langridge, from DWM 330. (Retrieved from here)

We aren't departing from the virtual world just yet. Join me next time for an exciting adventure with Doctor Who and the Mines of Terror.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 16 May 2024.)

The Two Doctors [Doctor Who, Story 140]

The Two Doctors by Robert Holmes
16 February - 2 March 1985
​

 

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.)

The Mark of the Rani [Doctor Who, Story 139]

 The Mark of the Rani by Pip & Jane Baker
2 - 9 February 1985

​

I don't know what it says about me that the first thing I said to myself was: "Is that a new cat pin?" Sure enough, Sixie has changed his out since Vengeance. It's good to know that my powers of observation have turned me toward productive ends.

The next thing I noticed was that Peri, while still not much of a fully-realized character or anything crazy like that, seems noticeably happier and has more personality in this story than usual. I note that this is one of the rare Who stories to actually be both written (by Jane Baker) and directed (by Sarah Hellings) by women, and wonder if that might have something to do with it. The last (also first) time this happened was with Enlightenment, written by Barbara Clegg and directed by Fiona Cumming, where Tegan notably got more to do than usual and some more focused writing. I may be imagining things, but it was nice to see Peri smile a little more and reveal her interests for what feels like the first time, when she talks about conservation and the chopping down of English hedgerows toward the start of the first episode.

There are still plenty of risible moments where she is concerned, of course. Here I'm thinking of the cliffhanger, where she accidentally pushes the Doctor's cart the wrong way and sends him rolling down a hill! (I thought it was pretty funny, but I can't fib and say it was a flattering character moment.) And toward the end of the story, when asked what she and the Doctor do in the TARDIS, the Doctor remarks wryly, "Argue, mainly." Don't say that like it's a good thing!

This is not the Master's most edifying hour, coming into the story disguised as a scarecrow with one of his most bonkers plans yet. (Still, it must be said, not quite as bonkers as the one from The King's Demons.) I wonder what fan's thoughts were at the time after his seeming death in the previous season? "Oh, not him again"? His presence does distract from the new villain a bit, but I did find his rapport and banter with her fairly entertaining.

Speaking of whom, Kate O'Mara is absolutely wonderful. I think it's a pity that her part here is a little underwritten and she doesn't get much time to be a true threat to the Doctor. It would have been for the best to withhold the Master and give her more room to get into conflict with the protagonists. Just the same, I enjoyed every moment she was on screen. Her dramatic exit with the T. rex embryos growing in her TARDIS got a real laugh out of me.

I've heard that Mr. and Mrs. Baker are known for their excessively verbose dialogue, but I was more thrown off by the Northumbrian dialect of the miners, which was at times a little difficult for my delicate Yankee ears to parse. BritBox subtitles came through for me on that front. The historical setting is an intriguing one, though I was forced to ask myself just how well-known George Stephenson really was, as I'd never heard of him before this. Is he more popular in his native Britain perhaps?

But do you know what the really odd thing is? Despite all the quibbles and the plot basically being held together by string, I really, really enjoyed this. It's inoffensive, it's cute, and it has a bit of manic energy to it that I'd take over Attack of the Cybermen any day. I can't bring myself to give it a negative review.

Is it already another anniversary year? The Two Doctors is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 13 May 2024.)

Grave Matter [Doctor Who, Diversion 34]

 Grave Matter by Justin Richards
1 May 2000

Good grief, has it really been almost three years? The last novel I reviewed for the marathon was The Well-Mannered War in October 2021. Time commitment issues, you see. I'm hoping to rectify this, and have added three more Sixth Doctor novels after this one to make up the difference.

I felt a bit like I had stepped back in time with this one. No, not to 2000, but rather to the Hinchcliffe-Holmes era. Between the foggy, out-of-the-way English setting, Victorian trappings, gothic horror, and more zombie movie references than I could shake a stick at, this feels at first like a story that Tom and Louise should be wandering through rather than Six and Peri. But initial appearances can be deceiving.

The Doctor and Peri spend much of the first act of the book noticing and investigating small anachronisms on the island of Dorsill, leading the reader to perhaps suspect temporal interference at first. This culminates in a moment where the Doctor sees the tell-tale lights of a helicopter landing on an adjacent island and shouts for everyone not to panic, only for the bemused residents to remark that he acts like he's never seen a helicopter before. Brilliant!

As it turns out, they only assumed they'd arrived in the past because the island they've landed on has chosen to maintain a pre-industrial society. This turns the whole premise on its head, and makes the decision to use Six and Peri settle into a kind of sense. It now becomes obvious that this story was made for them.

In typical Who fashion, the source of all the trouble ends up being an alien, a non-sentient microbe (the eponymous matter) which is capable of regenerating the bodies of its hosts from even the most grievous of injuries. The effects of this are sometimes grisly, especially in the case of hosts whose bodies are damaged to the point of death. As the microbe evolves and takes over human minds, it begins to take drastic measures to preserve and spread itself.

The creepiest thing about it is that its hosts are fully aware of everything that's going on, even when their body is being puppeted around. This reminded me very strongly of the (slightly earlier) science fiction series Animorphs, where the chief antagonists are a species of slug-like aliens who can do the same thing. This realization, which comes later in the novel after Peri is taken over, retroactively makes scenes where we see infested barmaid Liz Trefoil stare blankly at the zombie-like shape that used to be her lover, Dr. Madsen, come alive again with a fresh sense of horror.

All this body horror is well-rendered, and needless to say, both easier to stomach and to get away with than the televised material it's fitting into. The prose medium puts us at a little bit of a remove and takes a bit of the edge off of the worst of it.

The character writing is the strongest aspect of this book, in my opinion. The author not only captures Six and Peri, but introduces a large and memorable cast of side characters, making their dropping off one-by-one all the more riveting. If I had any one complaint about Grave Matter, it would simply be that the solution to the problem feels a little bit too easy, and that I find it hard to believe that the Doctor didn't consider the risk of flying hosts when he departs and leaves the story on an ambiguous note.

It wasn't enough to detract from my enjoyment very much, however; I thought this was both a very solid book and a nice addition to the Sixth Doctor's career. I'm hoping that my other literary diversions later on are just as interesting.

The Mark of the Rani is next.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 12 May 2024.)

Vengeance on Varos [Doctor Who, Story 138]

 Vengeance on Varos by Philip Martin
19 - 26 January 1985​

I love television, don't you? To tell you the truth, I'm more the sort to only follow a few series, but obsessively. A habit I am now trying to break, but given the fact that I am still here posting about Doctor Who, you can probably conclude that my success has been limited.

Doctor Who has always been pretty self-aware of its status as a TV show, whether in its limitations or its possibilities. The TV screen as a portal or doorway to a fantastical world is a motif that is common all across television, but seems especially prevalent in Who - here I'm thinking of The Mind Robber and Carnival of Monsters, but also the TARDIS scanner itself, which has been compared to a television often enough. As Rosa pointed out in Loups-Garoux, the TARDIS may very well run on imagination.

That the same means of accessing the realm of imagination could also carry with it unseen dangers is something which the program has not yet broached, with Vengeance on Varos perhaps the first story to do it explicitly. I wasn't alive for them, but I'm given to understand that the Eighties were a period where violence on television, and especially home media, was becoming more and more of a hot-button issue. The anxieties of this period are reflected in this story, in Varos' major export of televisual torture "entertainment".

This is played out across what is a delightfully grotesque and dark story. Although Robert Holmes' name isn't on it, Vengeance on Varos still feels like it has inherited a lot of its DNA from stories like The Sun Makers. Colin Baker's Doctor seems particularly well-suited to stories of this type, so it's good to see him in this setting.

The way it starts is just electric, immediately establishing the sort of society they have on Varos by way of the commentary between Arak and Etta (Clara's grandma! I almost didn't recognize her). Keeping these two in something like the role of the ancient Greek chorus, commenting on the action but never a part of it, was an inspired choice, and made their scenes very entertaining.

The whole guest cast is on point for this one. Quillam (delectably evil), the Chief Officer (quite good), and of course Sil (the little freak!) all make for some memorable characters. The Governor is also quite good, dignified but sad. His voice was familiar, but I had to look him up to find that Martin Jarvis also voiced the propaganda reel in Invasion of the Dinosaurs. I think it's pretty funny that he is in more or less the same line of work in this one!

Ironically, despite showing to us the face of a society rendered insensate to violence, the story is fairly violent itself. Less so than Resurrection in the previous season, of course, but still notably so. Much is made of the Doctor's struggle with the two guards at the acid bathing chamber; for the record, I think the Doctor is off the hook for that one, the first guy tripped and then pulled in the second himself. This irony feels intentional, however, and the violence feels more tongue-in-cheek this time, rather than existing solely for shock value.

I quite liked this one. I hope to see more of its like before this Doctor has gone.

For the first time in a while, we'll be headed to the literary realm next time with Grave Matter.

(Modified from the original posted at Gallifrey Base on 10 May 2024.)