Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in doctor_sentence's LiveJournal:

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Tuesday, May 1st, 2012
7:05 pm	Cl-cl-cl-close The final edit of what I wrote for last NaNoWriMo has now been approved, and the online 'zine in which it is set to appear should be out by the end of the month. As the editing took place in distinct stages, I've decided to provide a little summary of the process in case anybody is remotely interested. Edit 1: Basic tidying-up. The NaNoWriMo deadline does necessitate some settling for what's adequate (or at least not intolerably bad) and coming back to improve it later. I didn't fully get the 'voices' of the different characters from the outset, either, so some of the dialogue needed tweaking to make it sound more like what the people would say. Additionally, as I was writing the adventure it expanded from 200 sections to 275, so the sections weren't distributed as evenly as they could have been. This meant that before starting on the edit, I messed around in Excel to come up with a better spread of sections, using colour coding for all the different paths and encounters, and used what I produced there to carry out as much renumbering as was necessary. Edit 2: The fruits of playtesting. Repeated attempts at the adventure, following every conceivable path (the doomed as well as the viable) revealed a couple of encounters to be overly harsh, and brought to light two or three errors made in the renumbering process. I fixed these problems as they came to light, and continued to make alterations to the prose wherever potential improvements occurred to me. Edit 3: Synchronising with the illustrations. I'd provided the artist with an art brief before I even got going on the first draft, and had followed up with actual excerpts from the text as they were written. When the completed (and rather wonderful) pictures were sent to me, there were some instances of the ilustration not entirely matching the text. In most cases, it was pretty easy to rewrite the pertinent sections to make what was described correspond with what was shown. The one exception was, thankfully, something that could be put right in the picture with little difficulty. There was actually one more picture than expected - after sending off the initial art brief, I'd reached the conclusion that one of the requested illustrations was actually a bit dull, and offered up a couple of possible alternatives. The artist chose to draw the one I'd had second thoughts about and one of the alternatives, so a small amount of extra renumbering was required to space the pictures out better. Edit 4: Response to the official playtester. Thanks to my playtesting, the adventure wasn't fundamentally broken anywhere, but it still needed a thorough going-through by someone who didn't know all its ins and outs. This revealed a few typos I'd consistently failed to spot, occasional patches of imprecision, and some apparent problems with characterisation.  While I knew all the backstory and so on that never got explicitly stated in the text, nobody else did, so some things that were obvious to me weren't clear to the average reader. Adding enough detail to justify seemingly illogical actions without getting too clunkily info-dumpy was challenging (the key passage went from a little under 100 words to almost 1100 before getting pared back to just over 200), but the end result is a definite improvement. I also had to do some work relating to a key aspect of the resolution, which draws on tricks used by older writers, but fuses them into something I don't think has been done before. Again, what is clear to me because I wrote it is much less blatant to everyone who's not me (and that's a lot of people). The addition of a minor hint at a crucial point, and a couple of clarifications, means that the readers' moment of realisation should be more, 'Oh, so that's how to do it!' than, 'You've got to be ****ing kidding!' Until publication, that's pretty much all I have to say on the topic. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 27th, 2012
1:32 am	Lately I've been rewatching a lot of 1980s episodes of Spitting Image. Overall it still works, though some of the gags are too of-their-time to mean much any more. Today I saw the episode originally broadcast on the fourth of May 1986, shortly after the Chernobyl disaster, and it got me thinking. Several of the sketches give a strong impression that the end of the world really could be nigh, not just because of the nuclear catastrophe, but also due to the possibility that then-recent political developments could have led to another World War. And it was a genuine concern back then. Nowadays, while there are still a lot of appalling things going on in the world, there's nowhere near the same sensation of impending doom. I was pleased to see that the DVD release retains the plug for the single of The Chicken Song which followed the original broadcast. The music overlaps with the very end of the closing sketch and gives a little twist to the joke, a subtextual message that while relocating to another part of the solar system might enable you to avoid the horrors awaiting humanity in the coming months, it wouldn't help you get away from irritating novelty songs. I've wondered if that was deliberate or serendipitous - the music was absent when the sketch reappeared in a compilation show a while later, so maybe it was never intended to happen like that. Still, as I was smiling to see the definitive-to-me version of the sketch, something else occurred to me. That powerful undercurrent of 'we're all going to die horribly quite soon' that runs through much of the episode ends up blurring into 'you can now buy the silly song we've been pushing at you since March'. The possibility of not making it to the end of the month didn't deter the people behind the show from attempting to get a nonsensical chart hit. The placement of the ad turns the song, however unintentionally, into a custard pie hurled at the face of the grim reaper. And the world didn't end, but the single made it to number one. I don't know if there's a lesson in there, but at the very least there's a LiveJournal entry in it. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 29th, 2011
10:31 pm	Under thirty, but already past fifty For various reasons it's been a couple of years since I last attempted NaNoWriMo, but this year I had the time and the motivation, and: It should be appearing in an online fanzine some time next year. Well, a bit more than 80% of it should, as I actually completed what I was writing for the 'zine somewhere around the 41,000 word mark. But I did that a week ago, and decided to write some extended/deleted scenes to push it up to the NaNo target. I may publish them here once the main feature has come out. And I'm going to try and keep up the habit of writing a hefty chunk of wordage a day, and get back to some unfinished projects. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, October 17th, 2011
10:00 pm	The Family Learning Channel In the realm of the romantic I am no stranger to rejection. Been there, seen that, run out of space in the T-shirt drawer. But today's experience was something new to me. Maybe I've just led a sheltered life up until now, but I have never previously been turned down by someone I had not actually asked out. had not even considered asking out. had never actually thought of in any remotely romantic context. I hope this sort of thing isn't going to become a regular feature of trips to the supermarket. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 12th, 2011
5:04 pm	Not so much 'found' as 'rediscovered' poetry Well, that was a pleasant surprise. It turns out that the Ptomic Cycle still exists. That's not likely to mean much to anyone reading this, so I shall elucidate. Around five years ago I got involved in a nomic game at the now defunct Outpost Gallifrey forum (for the still baffled, a nomic game is one in which changing the ruleset is a big part of the game, if not the whole point). As a consequence of winning the game, I wound up having to run the follow-up, and one of my responsibilities there was to regularly write poems describing what had happened in the course of play. According to the rules, the poems had to be at least four lines long, and at least two lines had to rhyme. Not entirely surprisingly, I often went above and beyond the minimum requirement, and during the two-and-a-bit months that that game lasted, I wrote over fifty poems. Some were song pastiches, some used fancy rhyme schemes, some included truly horrendous puns, and most if not all had at least a little humour in them. Owing to a combination of factors, I drifted away from the next game, and then a while later the forum ceased to exist, so the records of the game were lost. A while later something jogged my memory of the game, and I slightly regretted never having kep a back-up of any of my poems, but it was too late to do anything about it. Only it turns out that a separate site kept records of some elements of the games, so while the actual gameplay and related banter are no more, the rules are still documented, and there's an archive of all the poems. Not just mine, but every single verse that I hammered out for the game still exists. The poems have their flaws. Some of the contortions required to fit the words to the intended metre are pretty ugly. Several of the references have lost all meaning (hey, you try figuring out the meaning of an allusion to something silly someone did online half a decade ago). Frustratingly, I can no longer recall what one of the pastiches is based on. A fragmentary memory suggests that one verse of the song or poem used ends, "There will be no [something four syllables long]," or 'And there'll be no [4 syllables]," or something along those lines, but that's not enough to go on. Still, I'm glad they weren't lost. I enjoyed rereading them, groaning at the worst of the puns, and occasionally being amazed at how far I'd been willing to go just for the sake of a rather silly game. And now I've backed them up on my computer, so they'll be preserved even if this other site should fall off the net. (Comment on this)
Sunday, December 19th, 2010
9:21 pm	Toad pictures A friend who went around Hull taking arty photos of the toad statues has given me permission to attach some of them to the relevant blog entries. The now-illustrated entries may be found here, here, here and here. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 13th, 2010
1:55 am	I have for some time divided inconsiderate road users into three categories: bad drivers, bad cyclists (though many of these are more road non-users, as irate pedestrians can testify), and bad pedestrians. A recent incident has reminded me that I was missing one category: bad passengers. All right, so the idiot who thought it hilariously funny to shriek loudly at me from a passing car in order to startle me the other evening ultimately did less damage than the perpetrator of the drive-by egg-throwing that injured my hand back in the nineties, but that is far more a consequence of my managing not to lose control of my bicycle than any lack of malice on her part. For the sake of my health, I shall try to focus more on the drivers and cyclists who show some consideration for other road users, the pedestrians who manage not to blunder around oblivious to what is approaching on the road they wish to cross, and the vast majority who can travel in a vehicle without trying to cause harm to others for their own amusement, but it won't do me any good to blind myself to the existence of the bad ones, so I shall have to go on seething from time to time. (Comment on this)
Friday, October 1st, 2010
12:32 am	I wrote a poem about writing words in the sand for the sea to erase. Then I chose not to save the document. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 1st, 2010
11:49 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 6 The things I do for my art... Melton isn't even Hull. It's so not Hull that I had to go through two villages, and over a few hills, to get there. Just for one toad. I ache from the small of the back downwards. 39) Magenta Toad Location: A junction in Melton. No Rocky Horror Picture Show homage, this. Magenta refers to the colour of the toad and nothing else. As with several other toads, there's an urban landscape motif to the toad's decorations, but this one is going for a more modern vibe, with wind turbines, image-based signs indicating the function of many of the buildings, and a number of structures shaped like upward-pointing arrows. No idea what they're supposed to be, unless it's a Dad's Army opening titles-esque representation of the conquest of space. Which would be a bit optimistic for Melton. Or indeed Yorkshire. Britain, for that matter. 5) Archi-toad Location: The west side of the Marina. I wasn't the only toad-spotter out and about today, and the first others I met were by this pale chap. As the name may suggest, this too is adorned with pictures of various structures, including the Humber Bridge (under the end of which I passed en route to and from Melton), a row of terraced houses, and the Pride of Hull, which is a ship. I wasn't aware that ships are designed by architects (and I ought really to check whether or not 'tis true rather than assuming it is so just because I saw it on a toad). There's a crane, as well, but I'm pretty sure that that's more to do with 'building' as a gerund than an artistic statement along the lines of 'architects design these, too'. 4) Fish & Chips Toad Location: Near the mouth of the Marina. This too was the focus of attention from toad-hunters other than I. Much of its body, including one eye, is covered in reproductions of newspaper (primarily, maybe even exclusively, the Hull Daily Mail). Then there are the chips, the mushy peas, and the fish. Which, in what is either a burst of artistic license or a startling display of ignorance on the artist's part, is unbattered, uncooked, and evidently untouched by the chef's blade. Its one visible eye corresponds positionally with the toad's left eye, which is rather neat, but if I were buying fish and chips, and got a portion looking like that, I would be complaining. And not because I didn't ask for the peas. 3) Squatwit Location: Close to Victoria Pier. Another Larkin reference, presumably, as the words 'squat' and 'wit' appear in the second and third lines respectively of Toads, though their textual proximity appears to be the only thing connecting them. It is unclear how the decoration of the toad, a variety of undulating stripes of different colours (a whole rainbow's worth and more), represents whatever this portmantoad is supposed to be saying. None of the bands appeared to form the shape of a pitchfork, which would at least tie in with the poem on another level. No, the precise message of Squatwit remains, for me, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigmatic toad. 7) Reflective Colours Location: Outside the Architecture Centre. A mosaic adorns this toad, some of the tiles being tiny mirrors, the others just coloured squares of stone or ceramic or some such substance - I wasn't about to try prising one out for analysis in some chemistry lab. I actually passed this one on my way from Tigger the Toad to Maritime Toad last week, but failed to spot it because there was a wall in the way. As the mosaic design does not appear to be representative of anything, there's not a lot else I can say about this one. I could use the existence of the mirrored tiles as an excuse for making a weak pun about reflecting on the whole toad experience, but some of my readers would want to hurt me if I did. (Comment on this)
Thursday, August 26th, 2010
4:00 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 5 Responsibilities and bad weather further delayed me in my quest, but I can now present what should be the penultimate instalment. 6) Tigger the Toad Location: By the Marina. Yes, it's another tiger-themed toad. However, the artist for this one made more of an effort to synchronise the paint job with the shape of the physical toad, so the painted eyes are where the toad's eyes are. If these were the product of some Doctor Moreau-type figure's efforts at transforming tigers into giant toads, this would obviously be a later attempt than Tiger Toad, following some refinements to the technique to eliminate some of the more freakish abnormalities of the first try. 1) Maritime Toad Location: The secondary lobby of the Deep. Mostly blue to represent the sea, the waves in different shades of blue, with an irregular ring of black for the night sky around the mouth, shoulders and upper back. This sky is pierced in places by jagged bolts of pink lightning that issue from unexpectedly colourful clouds that gird the toad's head. Now, I know that you can get some remarkable colours of cloud at times, but if it's the middle of the night and the storm clouds above are bright pinks, reds, oranges and yellows, there must be some pretty freaky stuff going on in the sky. Could be a severe case of acid trip rain. 2) Typographical Toad Location: Across the River Hull from the Deep, at the end of the footbridge. A deep red, covered with the words of Larkin's Toads in bright yellow capital letters. Maybe not the whole text, but the layout makes it hard to follow, especially if you don't have a more conventionally-formatted copy of the poem to hand. The words are in concentric circles around the eyes, and more erratic loops around the rest of the body, and arranged more on the basis of what fits than where the original line breaks came. To further confuse matters, there's nothing to indicate where each loop of text starts and finishes. In this format, it's harder to make sense of than the Neat's verse, but detailed analysis is more likely to extract something meaningful. All in all, I think it unlikely that the toad will supplant the printed page as a repository of verse. 40) Tannery Toad Location: Beverley, just across the road from the leisure centre. Another green one, and more school children's artwork, but the leitmotif here is shoes rather than buildings. Fantasy footwear, judging by the rocket-propelled trainer in one spot (cool but impractical). If the artists were designing these shoes for themselves, a couple of them would appear to be set on becoming clowns. There's only one shoe of each design depicted, and as they're shown in profile, it's hard to tell whether they're all left-footed, all right-footed or random mixture. My OCD wants there to be another toad somewhere on which are painted the partners to all of these lonesome shoes, but realistically, that's not very likely. Alas. 22) Three Quarters Sky Location: Currently in the middle of the Orchard Centre on Orchard Park. 'Currently' because this is a touring toad. Next week it'll be somewhere else, and the week after that, another place entirely. Let's hope that being on the road doesn't go to the toad's head, or before you know it, he'll be quitting the group and trying to make it on his own. From there, it'll be the same old story: a series of increasingly annoying supermarket ads, then a period where he can only get panto work, terminating in an ill-advised appearance on I'm a Celebrity.. Get Me Out of Here!. Mind you, depending on how the tabloids spin things, even a metre-high blue statue of a toad, decorated with numerous overlapping cloud outlines and the occasional flower, could still fare better in a popularity contest than Katie Price. (Comment on this)
Saturday, August 21st, 2010
5:55 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 4 For a couple of days my social life got in the way of toad-hunting, but today I got back on track. First, though, a spot of updating on toads past: A detailed look at Hull Poem Toad reveals the poem to be free verse, and little more than a jumble of random phrases in some way related to Hull. I still prefer it to the Neat's piece, because it is at least unpretentious, but it's not Larkin-quality either. Closer examination of Kiss Me Quick indicates that the lip-prints are not all the same. I couldn't swear to their all being unique, as a truly thorough check would have required me to develop a terminology similar to that used by fingerprint experts to identify specific types of identifying characteristic as a basis for rigorous comparison, but there's definitely some variety in there. On to the new sightings: 30) Labyrinth on My Back Location: A side-street corner in Bransholme. Light green, with dark green labyrinths and red and white eyes. All of the labyrinths are circular, but beyond that they subdivide into two categories - the sort of thing most people think of when you mention labyrinths, with junctions and dead ends and one true path to the centre, and the other kind which is a single path that meanders and doubles back on itself, leading unavoidably to the centre by a route that even a dodgy taxi driver would consider overly circuitous. Even the toad's eyes are mini-labyrinths (second type), the quasi-spiral effect of the paths making it the toad most likely to be related to Futurama's Hypnotoad. 14) Chiltern Toad Location: The middle of Jameson Street (it's pedestrianised). This one is bright yellow, and shares with a couple of its fellows the 'children's drawings of houses' motif, though these ones are by a variety of differing artists of varying artistic talent, each one in a separate white circle. That's each picture rather than each child, though I suppose it's possible that budgetary problems could have forced the school to do away with desks and chairs and paint circles on the floor to mark where the pupils are supposed to sit. 23) Hull Folk Location: Kingston Square, just across from Hull New Theatre. Even from a distance, I was struck by the black colouration of this toad. It is, in fact, so black that had it been toad 11, I'd have suspected a Spinal Tap in-joke. However, it is not pure black, but decorated with a variety of pictures. I don't know if they're of specific local residents, though I'm pretty sure I'd remember the guy in a suit of armour if I'd ever met him. A couple of newlyweds were being photographed in the Square at the time I reached it, so there's a possibility that at least one of the snaps in their wedding album will have this toad loitering in the background. That could inspire some nasty in-law jokes. 24) Toad in the Hull Location: Round the back of Hull History Centre. A rather obvious pun, but given a slightly bizarre edge by ridiculously overexcessive repetition. The toad is covered in drawings of people, almost all of whom have speech bubbles containing the phrase 'Toad in the Hull?' (yes, with question mark). It's a diverse crowd - different genders, ages, colours, one in a wheelchair... No blatant stereotypes to indicate alternate sexualities, but the artist has clearly avoided species-ism by also giving speech bubbles to a cat and a fish. A few local features are also included in the picture, and in a bold move to address the disenfranchisement of the metabolically challenged, the statue of William Wilberforce gets a speech bubble too. 37) Floral Location: Pearson Park, close to the pond Not the most appropriately-named toad, as this is a depiction of multiple levels of a pond or river. The hind legs are the bed, the forelegs an assortment of flora, possibly supposed to be on the bank, given that daffodils aren't generally found growing in the depths. The toad's body is the water, plus a few lily pads, fish and insects, and the head is a stone jutting above the surface. Nice concept, but could definitely do with a better name. Photo courtesy of Vicky McMunn. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 18th, 2010
6:58 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 3 Only five today, because of the rain. Still, I have now done East Hull as well as West Hull. 29) Cityscape Location: East Park Animal Education Centre. That's a place that educates about animals, not one for educating animals. Unless it's both. But not, judging by the toad, for educating about geography. The suspension bridge spanning the toad's stomach implies that the city being scaped is Hull, but there's nothing particularly Hullensian about the urban skyline adorning this toad. Where's the statue atop the Guildhall? Or the wibbly-wobbly, mally-wally structure that houses Eastwest? The ship's prow-esque design of the local submarium? How is Hull ever going to improve its reputation when even its toad statues ignore some of its finer features in favour of the purely generic? 28) 10-5 Toad Location: Holderness Road, in front of Morrison's. Moustached and bearded, wearing a rugby shirt, this toad celebrates Hull Kingston Rovers' 1980 victory against some team I could probably Google in less time than it takes to write this sentence if I remotely cared about sport. Am I right in thinking that 10-5 is a pretty low score for a rugby game (assuming the name of the toad to be based on the final score rather an unconventional formation employed by the team)? Around the toad's neck are the faces and names of (presumably) the team members, and its sides sport slogans which mean little to me. The hind legs bear the faces of two sports commentators, probably ones who covered the match in question: Eddie "It's a Knockout" Wareing and "I Spot" Frank Bough (okay, there are about three people on the entire planet who might get that in-joke, but making some crack about the scandal that did bad things to his career would be tacky). 25) Lobelia Toad Location: Queens Gardens, overlooking the pond at the east end. A predictably floral design. If it's an accurate depiction of lobelias, it would appear that there are none anywhere near the toad (or it's the wrong time of year for them to be in bloom). Not that I loitered to check particularly thoroughly, as the rain was pretty heavy at that point of the afternoon. Considering its placement, I'm a little surprised that the vandals didn't attempt to throw this toad into the pond. Or would coming up with that idea have required more wit than is liable to be found in the sort of lout who'd wantonly rip off a toad's mohican? 26) Weather Rain or Shine Location: Queen's Dock Avenue, staring across flower beds at the fountain. This toad sports a yellow raincoat, has an umbrella tucked under one limb, and symbols for sun and storm clouds emblazoned upon its belly, while its pink tie flutters in the painted breeze. Consequently, the 'Yorkshire Water' lapel badge may appear a little incongruous to anyone unaware of the company's sponsorship of TV weather forecasters. I try to give advertising as little attention as possible, so I'm not able to conclude this entry with a humorous riff on one of their slogans. 27) Harlequin, Mischievous Man of Mystery Location: Right next to Weather Rain or Shine. As the name suggests, this orange-skinned toad wears a domino mask and a costume with a pattern of coloured diamonds. Its position alongside Weather (if you'll excuse the familiarity), combined with the toads' stance, makes it look as if the two are about to start a race, as a result of which the mask suggests numerous possibilities. Is Harlequin a professional sportstoad participating in the contest incognito, perhaps due to be brought low for his hubris? Or could he be someone who has been wronged by Mr. or Shine, seeking to have his revenge by besting him on the sports track? The 'I heart PH' badge he wears gives no clue either way, but might yet be the key to the source of their rivalry. Hmm, and the Hidden Toad is close by, yet not visible from their position. Hidden perhaps with the intent of sabotaging the race? I'd better stop before this turns into full-blown fanfic... Photos courtesy of Vicky McMunn. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 17th, 2010
7:56 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 2 While the majority of the toads are in the city centre, some are more further afield, so I went in search of a selection of the more out-of-the-way ones today, and then went briefly into town to bring the number viewed up to a nice round ten. 38) Global Pop Toad Location: The University of Hull. A patchwork of coloured shapes (mostly quadrilaterals) containing stylised renditions of assorted flora, fauna and random gubbins. There may well be a number of references to pop art in there - the lopsided face bisected by a zig-zagging nose looks vaguely familiar - but I'm not sufficiently clued-up on the subject to name names, and they're not the easiest thing to research on the internet. Ten pages into a Google image search for 'triangular head with horns', I have yet to spot one remotely similar to the one on the toad. Oh, and I have SafeSearch on extreme, so I accept no responsibility if you try that search yourself, have more relaxed settings, and come across something that mentally scars you. 34) The Carnegie Toad Location: Right in front of the Carnegie Heritage Centre, very close to the Hull Fair venue. The design is vaguely floral, with occasional patches of text mostly relating to the history of the building outside which it sits. In recognition of the fact that the place was once a library, and again blurring the line between toad and frog, the exclamation, 'REDDIT! REDDIT!' also appears on the side of the toad. 32) The Newington Toad Location: Hawthorn Avenue, a lot further south than the map makes it out to be. Blackcurrant ice lolly purple, with an urban sprawl of child's drawings of houses running around it in a ring. Appropriate, as it is in a fairly built-up area (though the council are working to improve conditions by demolishing hundreds of cramped and poky houses and building even more new and spacious houses in the space thereby freed up (spot the logical flaw there)). 31) Topographical Toad Location: Woodcock Street, outside some public building or other. The toad distracted me from paying more attention to the nearby building. On its back, and running down its sides, is a street map of central Hull, with blue spots indicating (at least in theory) the whereabouts of the 29 or 30 toads located within the region depicted (I counted them three times, but the haphazard positioning of the dots made it hard to be certain I never missed any). Loses points for the fact that the one street name shown on the map is incorrect, but makes up for it with the stark social realism of depicting the river Humber as being brown rather than the more traditional but less accurate blue. 33) The St George's Toad Location: In front of St George's Primary School. Some may consider this toad (dark green, ringed with a child's drawing of a city skyline) to be ill-matched with its name, what with the lack of red crosses on white backgrounds, knights in armour and slain dragons. However, the Gavin Millarrrrrrrrrr type might prefer to see it as a modern-day recontextualising of the myth, pitting the heroic forces of the environmentalist movement (represented by the green colouration) against the destructive, smoke-belching forces of inadequately regulated industry (note the number of active chimneys among the buildings). This is an issue that the artists take very seriously, and they repudiate any suggestion that the struggle may be a Quixotic one by conspicuously omitting windmills from the selection of buildings depicted in outline. Or something. 11) Kasey Toad Location: Carr Lane, outside the shopping centre near the marina. Another one sponsored by the local telecommunications company. This is white with multicoloured spots, and on its side is a speech bubble containing some banal platitude about being part of the community. Not quite as forgettable as their other one, but still pretty unremarkable. 13) The Hidden Toad Location: The other side of Queen Victoria Square from Tiger Toad, outside Tourist Information. Standing out in the open, this is easy enough to find if you're looking for it. Or is it a case of 'the toad that is seen is not the true toad'? Drawn on this one are many creatures that may be toads, but it could be that the majority are, in fact, frogs, and there is but one toad in their midst, hidden like a needle in a box of pins. Another possibility is that there is some cryptic reference to toads concealed in the assortment of names of local businesses and people woven into the mass of depicted amphibians. This may be an insoluble problem, for surely what is hidden ceases to be hidden once it has been found. As in so many quests, the goal is ultimately of less significance than the journey taken in order to attain it. Then again, I might just be overthinking things. 10) The LarKin Toad (sic) Location: Inside the shopping centre near the marina. Painted as wearing glasses, suit and tie, this is presumably supposed to be how Philip Larkin would have appeared in Anthropomorphic Toad World. There is, alas, something harsh and sinister-looking about him. I can see Anthropomorphic Toad Disney seeking to cast him as the cruel bank manager who forecloses on the orphanage and turns all the parentless tadpoles out onto the streets at the start of some ultimately heartwarming family film. It is nowhere near as easy to imagine him penning the immortal line, "They croak you up, your mum and dad." How tragically easy it is to judge by appearances. 9) Hull Fair Toad Location: Princess Dock Street, outside the abovementioned shopping centre and nowhere near the place the Fair is actually held. A frenzy of psychedelia, the wild and colourful abstract swirls framing the lone word 'YES'. No obvious references to overpriced rides, gooey confectionery, 'internationally renowned' fortune tellers, plush replicas of characters from this year's DreamWorks or Pixar extravaganza, or pretty much anything else you're likely to find at the fair itself. Then again, maybe it represents the way the fair looks when the sugar rush kicks in just after you've spent five minutes being rotated in multiple directions simultaneously at great speed while having bright lights flashing in your face and excessively loud pop music pounding your frontal lobes into mush. 8) Neat Toad Location: The square by the indoor market, mere metres from the statue of Andrew Marvell. At first glance the Pollock-esque splatters adorning the toad suggest a certain irony in the nomenclature, but a look at the credits indicates that the name refers not to its appearance but to its designers. I am so not with-it that I don't even know how not with-it my ignorance of The Neat makes me, but if the writing on the toad's belly is indicative of their output, I have no great desire to learn more about them. It puts me in mind of the poem from that Fry and Laurie sketch with Hugh as the schoolboy and Stephen as the headmaster, only this is a lot more opaque. While in town I also made a detour to pass by the unmemorable Teletoad again. It's white with a 'waistcoat' and facial stripe of coloured rectangles. They do look a bit like a tartan, but not one I can imagine any Scot being happy to wear. Photos courtesy of Vicky McMunn. (Comment on this)
Monday, August 16th, 2010
10:00 pm	Around Hull in Forty Toads, part 1 This summer, 40 statues of toads have been placed in various locations around the city and its environs because, well, Philip Larkin. I've spotted around a quarter of them just in the course of shopping and so on, but I've now obtained a toad map, so I'm planning on viewing the lot. And commenting on them here, because it's been far too long since I last made any posts. So I'll start by covering the ones I have already seen, in the order encountered. 19) Tequila Toad. Location: Outside the Job Centre. This one's bright orange and yellow, and that's pretty much all there is to say about it in and of itself. Mind you, I'm not mad about its positioning. There may be no commentary intended in situating the one alcohol-themed toad right next to the place where the jobless have to go on a regular basis, but it does seem a bit 'meaningful. Besides, it's just down the road from the local branch of a charity that's aimed at helping problem drinkers sort their lives out, which strikes me as being insensitive. 20) Heat Toad. Location: Central Library. In addition to the standard 'For your own safety please do not climb on the toad' notice, this one has a sign encouraging people to place the palm of their hand on the toad for a minute to see what happens. I haven't done so myself, but I'm guessing that the paint is heat-sensitive, given that on my last trip to the library I did see a patch on the toad's head that was a) blue rather than green and b) damp with someone's sweat. It's possible that I'm wrong, and that prolonged physical contact with the toad causes extreme temperature changes within the person touching it, resulting in spontaneous combustion or rapid freezing, but with the proliferation of 'sue someone if you get hurt' companies, I rather doubt it. 12) Tiger Toad. Location: Queen Victoria Square. Inevitable, really, given the nickname of the local football team. The paint job pays little regard to the design of the statue, so there's a face in between the eyes, a painted mouth visible just below the physical mouth. If I ever wind up running a fantasy RPG session, I may throw in a monster based on this, just to freak the players out. 15) Teletoad. Location: Paragon Square. This one's sponsored by the local telephone company, which explains the name. The design is both un-toadlike and remarkably forgettable. Despite having gone out of my way to view it for a second time as an aid to memory, I still have no recollection beyond 'sort of tartan'. 16) Space Hopper. Location: Outside the railway station. Painted to look as if it's wearing a space suit, the visor reflecting stars, planets, a NASA spacecraft to which is attached a spacewalking toad, a monocular alien, and the TARDIS. The lettering on the vehicles is the wrong way round (i.e. not mirrored), but that's a minor thing. Add the punful name, and you have one of my favourites. 17) Eastwest. Location: The bottom end of the newest shopping centre. The colouration of the toad, combined with vague local awareness of matters sport-related, lead me to suspect that this has more to do with rugby than global politics. Its orientation means that the colour divide runs north/south rather than east/west, but you can't have everything. Besides, that error is much less likely to lead to violence than if the easternmost side of the toad were to sport the colours of the team favoured by the denizens of West Hull and vice versa. 18) Punkphibian. Location: Outside Hull Truck Theatre. I've only seen this one while passing by on my bike, but I must admit that it looks impressive. Dig the red mohican. I have no idea whether its appearance accurately reflects the look of the contemporary punk (are safety pins through the nose still punk?), or just conforms to stereotypes, but this toad has attitude, and it's probably the least likely of all the ones I've seen to have to worry about getting mugged. 21) Kiss Me Quick. Location: Another shopping centre. Is this a riff on the fairy tale by somebody who is unaware of (or, worse still, knowingly indifferent to) the taxonomic distinction between frogs and toads? I shouldn't get worked up about such things, especially when the toad in question is a decidedly un-either species-like white, and bears a lot more sets of lip-marks than are standard for the story. While musing on this toad, I have become curious about whether the artist enlarged a selection of different lip-prints or went for a quasi-Warholian repetition of a single image, but given the vagaries of memory, there's no guarantee that I'll think to check the next time I am in a position to do so. 35) Hull Poem Toad. Location: Princess Avenue, close to the Old Zoological. Another that I have only seen while cycling past, and while I have been able to make out some of the wording, closer scrutiny will be required before I can comment on the rhyme scheme and metre. I can say with some confidence that it's unlikely to be a limerick, simply because the line 'Patty in a breadcake' really doesn't fit the structure. 36) Twinkle Toad. Location: Princess Avenue, on a balcony outside the art gallery. Very dark blue, studded with not-quite-as-dark blue lights that go on and off in what appears to be a random pattern. Maybe if I were to spend a while standing around and watching the toad flash, I'd find there to be a regular, maybe even mathematically satisfying, aspect to it, but it looks very cool even without detailed analysis. And that's the lot so far, though the map indicates that I have on at least one occasion been close to The Hidden Toad without spotting it. Numbers are likely to rise quite quickly once I start actively seeking the rest. Photos courtesy of Vicky McMunn. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, August 24th, 2009
4:54 pm	Updates here are going to become more infrequent from now on. I started the viewing-and-reviewing marathon last November, so up until now I've been archiving my review backlog. Now I'm caught up, so subsequent reviews will only be posted as I get through the stories. My rate of viewing and reviewing may well slow, too, as I shall be moving house (all being well) within the month, so my DVDs and videos will be disappearing into boxes before long. (Comment on this)
Saturday, August 22nd, 2009
6:22 pm	Doctor Who Review Archive: The Dominators Episode 1 The opening shots of the episode do a good job of getting across the size of the Dominator fleet. All right, so the models are in a completely different formation to the blips, but nevertheless, the point has been made that there are a lot of them. In typical pre-21st century budget fashion, only one of the ships actually gets involved in the plot, but the offscreen hordes do seem that bit more real for having been shown right at the outset, rather than just being mentioned. For all the deficiencies of its plot, The Wheel in Space did at least have some decent character work going on. Rago and Toba’s stilted dialogue is the first indication that this story isn’t going to be as strong on that front. The Dominators do have slightly better-sketched personalities than some aliens, they’re still pretty flimsy: the Probationer likes destroying things, while the Navigator has an eye on the bigger picture, and disapproves of his subordinate’s violent actions when they go against the best interests of the plan, and that’s about it. Initially, things look a little more promising aboard the lemon squeezer-shaped craft, as Cully’s portentous declarations about the Island of Death are undercut by his passengers’ retorts. However, in the short time available for getting to know Etnin, Tolata and Wahed, their names and genders are pretty much all there is to find out about them. Cully is established as being a bit of a rebel and a prankster, but he’s really the only native of Dulkis to show any signs of individuality. The non-tactile technology used on the planet is an interesting idea, but I’m not sure how practical it is. Following the rather unimpressive crash of the ship, we get to see the first demonstration of the destructive power wielded by the invaders. Unless the censor clips from down under include some material that the RT have been saving for the inevitable DVD release, it’s also the only time the ‘melting face’ effect appears in the story. Considering when this was made, it’s a little surprising that the person shown suffering the effect of the blast is the only female member of the group. Even on the less-than-pristine VHS release, the use of a photograph of Tolata is rather obvious, but it is still a pretty impressive FX shot for its time. The destruction of Cully’s ship is also handled well. There may be some deliberate intent to the scenes where one group of characters arrives just after another has left, neither apparently aware of the other, but I doubt that the hint of farce created by these transitions was what the writers or director had in mind. Cully’s failure to respond to the arrival of the TARDIS, which he should have been able to hear, makes sense when it happens – he’s just seen three of his friends destroyed by aliens, so he’d be a fool to stick around close to another mysterious craft – but the lack of concern with which he approaches the ship later on suggests that he wasn’t fearful before, just unaware that it was materialising. What’s the point of creating a museum to showcase the horrors of war, but locating it on an atomic test island, where the radiation means that hardly anybody will be able to visit it? The dummies of bomb victims make for a satisfyingly shocking image when first revealed, but unless the design is complete guesswork, it raises some unpleasant questions about how anyone on Dulkis knows what the sufferers should look like. Another odd detail raised in the museum is the implicit assumption of parallel technological development: Rago takes the old-fashioned design of the laser on display as indicating that the more modern weaponry is elsewhere, rather than assuming that the natives aren’t as technologically advanced as his own people. While it was just possible that the Dominators’ first victims were underdeveloped as characters because they only existed to get killed off at an early stage, this proves less likely when everyone in the survey party turns out to be similarly deficient in personality. Balan is older than his charges, and Kando is a woman, but those are really their only distinguishing characteristics. Despite the Doctor’s enthusiasm, society on Dulkis seems very unappealing, with teaching by rote a significant part of the educational system, and little indication of curiosity or a desire to find out new things even among the students. Balan’s assumption that Cully and the TARDIS crew are playing a badly-coordinated practical joke is tiresome, but fits in with the dreary culture of which he is a product. It’s unclear how much of Cully’s tale the Doctor and Jamie have heard, but he definitely told them that the other aliens were talking of destroying the TARDIS (and the Doctor’s reaction suggests that it’s not as invulnerable as it was back in Hartnell’s day), so the lack of caution they show as they investigate is rather rash. The spacing of the tracks they follow suggests that the Quarks take extremely small steps, implying that they’re not going to be much good at chasing anyone. None too surprisingly, the Dominators’ robot servants remain unseen until the cliffhanger. They don’t look that impressive (I remember a fanzine coming out with the marvellous description ‘a punk fridge’), but as I have pointed out before now, there’s nothing inherently fearsome about the appearance of the Daleks, so a quirky design need not result in a lack of menace. Their voices make a big difference, though, their barely-comprehensible chirping lacking the force and imitability of the Daleks’ grating tones. There’s something childlike about them – which need not be a bad thing, as children can be terribly vicious and destructive – but the fact that they’re asking Toba if they should destroy the Doctor and Jamie makes them the wrong kind of child, dutifully asking for ‘parental’ permission before they do anything, rather than reckless and out of control. Episode 2 There’s a bit of an awkward scene transition at the start of this episode, with the cut from Toba and the Quarks atop the hill, menacing the Doctor and Jamie, to Toba waiting inside the ship with Rago as the time travellers are brought in by one of the Quarks. It is, of course, possible that Toba made his prisoners wait outside under Quark guard while he went in to report his capture, but for a moment it looks as if a third Dominator has turned up. Later, following the analysis of Jamie, there’s a sloppy cut, leaving in the very start of something Rago says. That could be the result of overseas censorship rather than a directorial blunder, but whoever’s to blame, it doesn’t sound good. Some of what goes on in the episode looks regrettably silly. There’s a peculiar quality to the shots of characters being pulled against the wall by the molecular force, and while the Quarks turn out to be able to move at a decent pace after all, even on location, the way they turn around on the spot to receive data and flap their ‘arms’ to recharge does nothing to enhance their credibility as a threat. As for the camera angle which makes it look as if one of the Quarks is directing its appendages up Jamie’s kilt during the analysis sequence, I shudder to think of the fan fiction it may have inspired. Judging by the size of the seats in the travel capsule, there must be a lot of overweight Dulcians. The slightly missile-like design of the craft seems a little odd for a race of pacifists. During the journey to the capital, Zoe shows little sign of her trademark intelligence, asking if the trip will take long even though Cully has already told her that the capsule can go anywhere on the planet in just 8 minutes. The story takes a turn for the worse during the scenes that feature the Council. A drawn-out debate on granting planning permission does effectively convey just how plodding and tedious things are on Dulkis, but portraying the Dulcians as stuffy bureaucrats does nothing to make them sympathetic as the soon-to-be victims of the Dominators. It’s a pity that nobody brings up any specific fabrications Cully’s made in the past when dismissing his news as a tall tale, as a couple of examples would give some substance to his reputation, and might alleviate the tiresome waffle a little. Considering the simplicity of the Dominators’ intelligence test, the Doctor takes something of a risk in deliberately getting it wrong. By ‘proving’ himself and Jamie too stupid even for slave labour, he does manage to regain their freedom, but their apparent uselessness could easily have resulted in their execution. Luckily for them, while Toba is very keen to destroy things, Rago is aware of the need to conserve energy (an element of character conflict which merits mentioning here, in case the multitude of scenes in which it gets spelt out didn’t quite put the point across clearly enough). Balan really is a deplorably closed-minded fool, and his students aren’t much better. Teel does at least acknowledge that the sudden steep drop in radioactivity after decades of gradual decrease is odd, but then he just accepts Balan’s declaration that, because that’s what happened, that must just be the way things are. Would any remotely decent scientist refuse to question findings that seem to contradict all other available data? Still, that’s trivial compared to how the Educator responds to the Doctor and Jamie’s report of their experiences. Their claims back up what Cully said, so he assumes that they’re lying, and persists in his disbelief even when he sees the spacecraft of which he was told. Kando’s just as idiotic, wanting to explore the ship that she’s been warned contains hostile and murderous aliens. The Dulcians aren’t a remotely plausible culture, just a crude parody of pacifists. (unnumbered episode) A lot of tiresome bickering could have been cut out of the scripts for this story if the costume designer had kitted Toba and Rago out with T-shirts reading ‘I like to destroy’ and ‘We need to conserve energy’ respectively. It’s not as if their ‘characterisation’ goes much deeper than those slogans, though Rago’s ordering that their captives be made to work until they drop is a handy reminder that, even though he has stopped Toba from killing any of the regulars, that doesn’t make him any less of a villain, just a more efficiency-minded one. It’s a little startling to suddenly see the Quark that confronts Zoe and Cully as they try to get out of the remains of the survey unit – sufficiently so to hint that the robots could actually make for decent ‘monsters’ if they were given a good script and directed well. Then again, while they blow up rather impressively when shot with the laser, their increasingly hysterical jabbering as they build towards the explosion, and the way that, after they’ve been destroyed, their legs remain standing on the spot where they blew apart, are far more comical than menacing, which does detract from their effectiveness. Despite these flaws, the Quarks still come off better than the Dulcians, who just get more and more annoying. Balan’s inability to understand why the Dominators are so harsh, and the Council’s reliance on ‘universal gentleness’ make them seem hopelessly naïve. Most of them only appear able to respond to the threat of hostility in two ways: disbelief or defeatism. Frankly, I’m surprised that they’ve even had the spirit to survive the sort of natural disasters with which Tensa is said to have dealt. Jamie’s protest that, “We’re just wasting time talking,” is a pretty accurate summary of just about every scene set in the capital. There’s another dodgy edit as the Doctor and Jamie depart the Council Chamber, truncating what sounds like Jamie urging the Doctor to ‘come on’. Then comes another sequence suggesting that the Doctor is the fool he sometimes pretends to be, his in-flight reprogramming of the capsule involving a lot of unnecessary clowning around. As the craft doesn’t appear to have any windows or monitors showing what’s outside, I have to wonder how the Doctor can see to steer it once he’s taken over from the automated guidance system. It would have been good to have some indication of how he managed to get back to the island rather than plunging into the sea. Something else that might make the story seem a little less preposterous would be more background on what the Dulcians were like before they banned war. That could provide some sort of explanation for their having bothered to create a bomb shelter prior to the one atomic test blast they carried out. It is at least good that Teel has mentioned the shelter before anyone uses it, so when (inevitably) one or more of our heroes end up inside it, it won’t come across as quite so much of a contrivance as if it were discovered with no foreshadowing. Jamie’s intervening to prevent Cully from opening fire on the Quarks is annoying, especially as he’s already met Cully, and knows that they’re on the same side. If he’d been worried about how the Dulcian had learned to aim, that would be a different matter, but that’s not how it comes across. The way the characters are positioned, I’m not sure how Balan can be blocking the shot afterwards. Considering the length of time it takes the damaged Quark to blow up, I don’t know why Jamie doesn’t try getting in a few more shots before Toba calls for retaliatory action. After the Quarks do open fire, the museum doesn’t appear sufficiently devastated to create any real sense that the occupants are unlikely to have survived. All in all, not a very impressive cliffhanger. Episode 4 Yet again the two Dominators squabble about the same things, but this time the argument gets a lot more heated before, with both of them threatening each other, and Rago exerting his authority in such a manner as to again remind the audience that, though he does keep intervening to keep Toba from killing and destroying, he’s still a nasty piece of work himself. His confrontation with the Dulcian Council also shows how harsh and ruthless he can be, though as an illustration of his villainy, it’s undermined by their being such ineffectual bores. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Tensa deserves to be killed for bleating on and on about protocol while Rago effectively announces his conquest of Dulkis, but I can’t say that I felt remotely sorry for him, either. He might have evoked a little sympathy if his reaction to Rago’s ordering his death had been visible, though. For all I know, maybe it was shown, but that and another example of the face-melting effect got snipped out by a censor. No doubt the DVD release will reveal the truth, when it comes along. How come Zoe has suddenly been categorised as one of the ‘inferior’ beings on the island? Last episode she was grouped in with the Dulcians (which made sense, as she was captured in the company of one, was wearing similar clothes, and wasn’t playing dumb), and proved to be the most hardy of the bunch as they were worked to exhaustion, so it doesn’t make sense that she’d suddenly be relegated to the supposedly useless party. Another detail that contradicts last episode is the way people keep saying that Balan mentioned the bomb shelter, when it was actually Teel who told Zoe and Cully about it. While Jamie and Cully’s getting trapped in the shelter and risking running out of air is essentially just padding, it’s preferable to the tedious pontification of the Council, and adds a neat complication to their predictable escape from destruction. It’s odd that Jamie should be surprised to find that there are still Quarks around once the hatch is finally forced open, as there’s no obvious reason for the robots to have left the area. Predictably, once he and Cully start fighting back with the aid of conveniently-located boulders, they manage to aim perfectly, while the killer robots lose the ability to shoot straight. It’s a pity that there’s no shot of the boulder actually hitting the Quark (and, apparently, splitting it into two, unless that’s an unusually tall Quark’s remains sticking out from both sides of the rock), but it’s probably not something that could have been convincingly realised with the resources available, and bad FX might well have been worse than having the destruction occur off-screen. The Doctor’s back in devious mode, scheming to get Rago out of the way so he can snoop round and try to establish what the Dominators are actually up to. That Geiger counter he uses to establish the radioactive nature of the ship’s power source would have come in handy back in episode 1 when Zoe was worrying about the possibility of contamination. Judging by the Quarks’ failure to react to what he says and does on the ship, it would appear that they’re very simple robots, capable of little more than obeying basic commands. Toba’s assumption that any of his captives will know Jamie’s whereabouts makes little sense (though it’s nowhere near as daft as Balan’s revelation that the Dulcians opted to carry out their atomic test in a region of the planet where the crust is particularly thin). The first time I watched this story, the cliffhanger to this episode took me by surprise, though the reason it did isn’t a particularly good one. Just about every time Toba’s had the Quarks destroy something, Rago has then given him a ticking-off for wasting energy. It seemed so obvious that the killing of Balan would result in another rebuke for the Probationer that it never occurred to me that any attempt might be made to wring some tension out of such a predictable situation. Episode 5 While the resolution of the cliffhanger is as obvious as it appeared, it does result in one surprise. It turns out that the Quarks have tracked down Jamie and Cully, and are about to destroy them, but this is only revealed in the scene immediately following Rago’s order that the search be called off and the robots return to their duties. Why wasn’t this made clear towards the end of the last episode? I’m not saying that a two-pronged cliffhanger showing Jamie and Cully in peril out on the island while Toba was threatening the Doctor with death would have worked any better, as it would have been easy to work out that Rago would have the Quarks recalled in addition to preventing Toba from having the Doctor killed, but it is still odd that the opportunity to show a companion in danger at the end of the episode was passed up. There’s a hint of role-reversal with the Dominators this episode, which actually works quite well. It’s never openly stated that the sentence of death Rago pronounces on Toba is lifted on condition that operations on Dulkis be successfully completed, but the implication is strong enough to make it plausible that the Probationer should rein in his destructive urges (with obvious reluctance and distaste) and focus on the task in hand. By contrast, Rago is finally provoked so far as to take hostile action against the others on the island (though still only to the extent that it will not interfere with his primary objective). Having the two of them step outside of their previously defined characters, and for a reason, isn’t much in the way of character development, but it’s the best there’s been all story. It’s not a good episode for the Quarks. One of them fails to notice Jamie creeping up behind it (so whatever function is served by the spikes sticking out of their heads, they can’t be sensors), allowing him to immobilise it by tying a bedsheet rope around its legs. They’re still lousy shots, unable to do more than mildly injure Cully. Their giggling and chuckling isn’t used to good effect: it could be quite sinister to have them deriving enjoyment from harming others, but they laugh while working on the drilling, which is less indicative of malice, and more reminiscent of schoolboys sharing a mildly rude joke while the teacher’s back is turned. As for the way one of them is used to restore another’s energy, it’s an interesting quirk, but a ‘monster’ that, in effect, needs to be jump-started really isn’t that much of a threat. Jamie and Cully’s learning of Balan’s death is significant because of what doesn’t happen. The Educator warned against fighting back, fearing that it would lead to more violence. He wouldn’t have been killed if the Quark hadn’t been destroyed. Normally, this kind of set-up would lead to an accusation of responsibility for his death – Kando would be the obvious person to make it, as she agreed with Balan – followed, eventually, by acceptance of the fact that it is sometimes necessary to resist, coupled with recognition that there is likely to be a cost. However, the message being put forward in this story is too simplistic to allow for even that level of ‘debate’, so there’s not even a hint of blame thrown. Instead, we have the Doctor manufacturing weapons to enable Jamie and Cully to fight more effectively. There’s more moral complexity in some of Terry Nation’s less inspired works. This episode shows the first step towards the Sonic Screwdriver’s becoming the multi-functional plot device it is today, as the Doctor uses it as a cutting tool. It’s not yet as all-purpose as it will be, given that the Doctor doesn’t even think of trying to use it to get into the Dominators’ seed device, but now it’s been shown to do more than just turn screws, the door has been opened for writers to use it whenever they’ve written themselves into a corner. Is the Dominators’ plan actually workable? The Doctor’s claim that they sucked up all the radioactive dust on the island makes slightly more sense than the implication that they simply absorbed all of the radiation (though it does raise the question of how the ship was able to leave all the uncontaminated dust lying around for the Quarks to leave tracks in), but I don’t know enough about nuclear explosions to be able to tell whether or not a detonation like the one planned would convert the planet into enough radioactive debris to fuel an entire fleet. Incidentally, what happens to the other Dominator ships after Rago and Toba fail in their mission? Do they give up on Dulkis and head elsewhere? Run out of fuel and drift on through space until they hit a gravity well? Send a second ship and destroy the planet, with the Doctor and companions no longer around to assist the Dulcians? The labelling of Jamie as an idiot continues, even as he helps save the day, the very simplicity of his plan being used as a pretext for belittling his intelligence. What does that say about the Doctor, whose idea of sticking the Dominators’ bomb in their ship just before take-off isn’t really the sort of thing you’d need to be a genius to come up with? His coming close to blowing his own hand off while demonstrating his home-made explosives doesn’t reflect well on him, either, nor his almost getting trapped in the Dominator ship while planting the seed device. Flawed though the story is, it does get a bit tense as the climax approaches. The tunnel to the bore hole is dug with remarkable speed, especially in view of how ill-suited the Dulcians were to manual labour a couple of episodes back. It’s understandable, though still slightly regrettable, that the Doctor isn’t shown catching the seed device when it gets dropped down the shaft. I didn’t find The Dominators as much of a struggle to get through as I did The Wheel in Space, but that may be down to my having been able to watch the whole thing, as it’s far from being a good story, and in some areas it’s definitely the weaker of the two. Without knowing what the original script was like, I can’t tell whether the extensive editing carried out on it spoiled a better story or spared the audience a further week of tedium. It’s certainly not up to the standard of the writers’ earlier scripts (but much the same could be said of The Wheel in Space, too), and gets season 6 off to a very shaky start. (Comment on this)
Thursday, August 20th, 2009
4:28 pm	Doctor Who Review Archive: The Wheel in Space Episode 1 Victoria’s departure wasn’t exactly a cliffhanger, so it’s odd that there should be a reprise of the final scenes of Fury from the Deep at the start of the episode. Perhaps it’s a way of filling in a little time, as there are signs that Whitaker struggled to bring this episode up to length: the food dispenser sequence is obvious padding, and the whole bizarre business of the TARDIS showing false images on the scanner to try and convince the Doctor to depart is pretty pointless too. Especially as it’s immediately followed by an arbitrary malfunction that forces the Doctor and Jamie to evacuate the ship and makes it impossible for them to leave. It’s been a while since anyone felt the need to use such plot devices, and the subsequent revelation that fresh supplies of mercury are required adds to the sense of déjà vu. I wonder if the FX for the contraction of the TARDIS interior were any good. Another throwback to the early days of the series is that the regulars are the only cast for the bulk of the first episode. There’s plenty of potential for mystery and tension in the Doctor and Jamie’s being stranded on a mysteriously deserted ship, adrift in space, with a strange robot on patrol and an ominous countdown going on elsewhere, but there’s hardly any sense of danger, so it comes across as being rather bland and dull. Though the Sonic Screwdriver has now been introduced, it’s not yet the does-whatever-the-script-requires gadget it will become, so the investigation of the Silver Carrier is partially thwarted by a locked door. Still, the time vector generator seems just as gimmicky, and its destructive capabilities are a little alarming. I realise that the Doctor’s not carrying it around as a weapon, but it ends up used as one anyway. That robot looks rather clunky, and the fact that it leaves an oily trail sounds like a pretty serious flaw. Its piloting skills are none too good, either, and it’s a wonder that the manoeuvre which tilts the ship, causing the Doctor to acquire an unexpectedly serious head wound, doesn’t also tip the robot over. While the thing may be conveniently equipped with something to help it deal with any blankets that are thrown over it, I see little likelihood of its being able to get up again unassisted if it did fall down. The spheres which are launched from the ship and somehow manage to pass through the hull of the Wheel are rather more intriguing. Anyone who saw the trailer for this story would already know which of the Doctor’s enemies were to return in it (and the credit for Kit Pedler is a big clue too), but some of the audience might have wondered if this could be the start of another rematch with the Great Intelligence. In the last few minutes of the episode, the wheel’s crew are introduced. This is primarily to set up the cliffhanger, and no real effort is made to establish any distinctive personalities. It’s a pity they weren’t introduced sooner, so at least one or two of them could have a little character work put in. Bennett is rather quick to jump to conclusions, and a little reckless in assuming that the lack of response to Ryan’s efforts to contact the rocket indicates that there’s nobody alive on board, but these traits merely serve to create some peril for Jamie and the Doctor as the end of the episode approaches. Episode 2 While this episode, like the previous one, does little to advance the plot, it does at least sketch in the personalities and relationships of some of the characters on the Wheel. It’s a welcome development, but the last time Patrick Troughton took a week off, the writers managed to get a decent amount of incident into the episode as well as fleshing out the supporting cast. Still, the casual mention of the meteorites in the context of the Wheel’s everyday routine is a neat way of introducing a detail that will gain plot significance, and the ‘hatching’ of the large spheres in the cliffhanger suggests that things are going to start happening after all this slow establishing of the set-up. It also makes the identity of the villains pretty obvious to anyone who hadn’t yet twigged, but that’s no bad thing. Bennett’s glee as he prepares to destroy the Silver Carrier, even arranging to have it recorded so he and others can rewatch the explosion as often as they like, is an amusingly realistic attitude. He somewhat makes up for his careless assumptions by quickly and efficiently arranging to rescue the people on the rocket once he becomes aware that there is still someone alive on board, but before long it becomes clear that he’s yet another unstable authority figure, his response to Dr Corwyn’s report showing him to be a paranoid control freak. Like the workers on the Moonbase, most of the crew of the Wheel show an unhealthy indifference to odd readings that could hint at more serious problems. Lernov, who’s already shown herself to be perceptive by recognising Jamie’s distress signal for what it was, is the exception, but her concerns are dismissed by Bennett, while Ryan takes advantage of them to start flirting. It’s a very human reaction, but in an environment where any technical fault could have lethal consequences, people should be more diligent in looking into anomalies. This stands out all the more because elsewhere there are indications that Whitaker or Pedler did give some thought to the practicalities of living on a space station, such as Dr Corwyn’s picking up on the implications of Jamie’s leaving his water untouched, and the passing reference to the psychological benefits of Duggan’s ‘greenhouse’. Mind you, the latter does occur in a scene which includes another example of careless behaviour, as Duggan tells a complete stranger all about the Wheel’s defences. If there’s any substance to Bennett’s fears of anti-space travel terrorists, security should be a lot tighter around the laser. One of the most significant aspects of the episode, at least as regards the series as a whole, is the introduction of Zoe. A fair bit of emphasis is placed on her high intelligence (though some of her spouting off of facts slightly undermines the demonstration of her cleverness for anyone who knows the correct pronunciation of ‘aphelion’), but her amused reaction to Jamie’s kilt shows a more human side to her character. Jamie shows some intelligence in his attempts at signalling to the Wheel, and while Dr Corwyn sees through his hastily improvised story to explain his ignorance of what happened to the Silver Carrier’s crew, that has more to do with her knowledge than any incompetence on his part. Nevertheless, his actions upon hearing that Bennett still plans to blow the rocket up are very unwise. Why doesn’t he try telling one of his new friends that there’s some valuable equipment of the Doctor’s on board, rather than immediately running off to sabotage the laser? Episode 3 With this episode still available to view, I can now see that the establishing shot of the Wheel which accompanies the caption slides at the start is not a static image, but shows the station rotating. It’s not bad – and certainly looks a good deal better than the space walk depicted later on. There’s a fair bit of clumsy exposition here. First Lernov and Ryan rehash some of their dialogue from the previous episode, so anyone who missed it can be brought up to speed on plot developments. Then there’s the Cybermen’s report to the strange-looking device that is their controller, in which each announcement of the completion of a phase of their plan is followed by the spelling out of what that means. Such redundancy is hardly logical, and merely serves to spell out more of what’s going on for the benefit of any viewers who aren’t yet clear what’s going on. One thing that is logical is Bennett’s reaction to Jamie’s sabotage of the laser. The Wheel’s primary means of defending itself has just been put out of action by a stranger, so it does make sense to break out the small arms in case this sabotage is the prelude to an attack. Jamie’s explanation for his actions is very poor, and the whole incident illustrates the changes that are being made to his character. Up until now, he’s been intelligent yet uneducated, but now that a genius is being introduced as the new companion, he becomes an idiot to help highlight how smart she is. Glad though I was to be rid of Victoria, I’m disappointed to see her replacement causing Jamie to turn into Wee Jock McThick from Glen Thick in Thickshire. While the new Jamie is none too clever, Zoe is deficient in empathy and practical experience. The first of these is illustrated by her reaction to the supernova induced by the Cybermen: she can calculate its influence on other objects in space, the Wheel included, but until Ryan’s outburst, it never occurs to her that this might worry and upset people – to her it’s just another intellectual exercise. Similarly, she’s less concerned about Rudkin’s death than the mysterious lump of plastic found near his body – a puzzle which highlights her other principal flaw. She knows that there’s no way of cutting through the stuff, and that fact gets in the way of her thinking of non-physical ways of penetrating it. Some quibbles arise in connection with the situations that expose her limitations. If the Cybermen can cause stars to go nova, why are they bothering to mess around with this convoluted subterfuge? Would it not be a lot simpler just to demonstrate this ability and then threaten to destroy Earth’s sun unless humanity surrenders to them? As for having spray canisters of quick-set unbreakable plastic, that’s terribly impractical. Jamie’s wrecking of the laser proves that the plastic can seriously mess things up, and a misaligned nozzle or a careless squirt could wind up doing a lot of damage. The Cybermats used here seem a good deal more dangerous than the ones on Telos, especially when it’s implied that they’re usually programmed to kill, and have had that function inhibited until they’ve consumed the Wheel’s Bernalium (the corroded pieces of which make a surprisingly plasticy sound when dropped). Their lethal capabilities are not immediately obvious from their appearance, though, and Rudkin’s terrified reaction to the sight of them is somewhat excessive. Duggan’s response to seeing one fits in with what’s been established about his character, but his subsequent actions are terribly irresponsible: he doesn’t yet know of their destructive capabilities, but surely strange fauna discovered on a space station ought to be put into quarantine, and there should be some kind of investigation to find out how they got there. Even so, Bennett’s confining Bill to his quarters once the truth comes out seems unwise. The man made a mistake and admitted it, and while he should have to face the consequences, removing him from duty isn’t going to help ‘get back to normal working conditions’, especially as it means pulling a member of the now depleted crew from his duties in order to fix the laser, which Duggan is in any case going to be better qualified to do. It’s implied that the Doctor discovered something on the Silver Carrier, but his concussion has caused him to forget it, yet there was no indication back in episode 1 that he was in a position to notice anything of significance just before the course correction that caused him to bang his head. Still, that fade from him musing on the ‘menace’ he can’t remember to the face of a Cyberman is a nice directorial touch. Unexpectedly, he’s enjoying his convalescence rather than eager to be up and about, investigating the mysterious goings-on. His oft-quoted put-down to Zoe regarding logic is out of place, though, as she’s right about the rocket’s having been piloted. Some of her comments suggest that someone on the writing side doesn’t fully understand space travel, as there’s not necessarily any direct correlation between fuel consumption and distance travelled in zero gravity, and the Doctor should have pointed that out if his dismissal of her logic had been based on faulty assumptions about fuel. By the end of the episode, the x-rayed plastic lump (which gives an interesting hint of what’s inside a Cybermat) has revealed the identity of the villains to our heroes, but the next phase of the Cybermen’s plans is already under way. Following a rather quick repressurisation, Laleham and Vallance have fallen under the influence of the Cybermen, whose mind-controlling abilities are a lot more effective than they were back in The Tomb of the Cybermen. I get the impression that this story is supposed to be set earlier than the one with which the season opened, so it’s odd that Cyber-technology seems significantly more advanced here. Episode 4 Of all the flawed, neurotic and unstable base commanders the series has featured lately, Bennett is by far the most obviously unsuited to his job. A man who can’t cope with anything but normal working conditions (and despite what Dr Corwyn claims, it’s not only ‘phenomena outside the laws of physics’ that he won’t accept) isn’t fit to be in charge of anything, especially not a space station, where people are more likely to encounter beings and phenomena of which they have no prior experience, and have to be prepared for the unexpected. By the end of the episode his state of denial is actually endangering the Wheel, his ordering Zoe to forget the ‘critical state’ she discovered relating to the meteorites potentially denying the crew information they need to deal with the storm. Not for the first time, the Doctor makes an inexplicably weak argument when trying to persuade an authority figure of the danger. Whatever the date, this has to be later than 1986, and Hobson’s knowledge of the Cybermen in The Moonbase proves that the events of The Tenth Planet weren’t covered up, so if the Doctor had recommended checking the historical records, that would have gone some way towards proving that he wasn’t just making things up. Actually, it’s possible (though not certain, as no specific date is given for this story) that this scheme of the Cybermen’s is what led to their becoming common knowledge by 2070, but even so, it wouldn’t hurt to have the Doctor bring up the previous invasion. Proving that the Cybermen had attacked Earth in the past wouldn’t derail the plot in any way – if Bennett has to continue to disbelieve the Doctor, he could just accuse him of trying to scare everyone with the spectre of a long-dead threat. It’s no surprise that Dr Corwyn should be more willing to listen, as she has already been speculating on possible connections between the strange events that have been occurring. Her having Duggan brought in to see the x-ray of the Cybermat is far more sensible than Bennett’s accusations of scaremongering. Incidentally, if Bennett doesn’t even accept Duggan’s claims of having found a ‘space rodent’, what does he think caused Rudkin’s death and corroded the Bernalium? Alarmist gossip? What’s happened to the Cybermats, anyway? Rudkin only neutralised one of them, so the rest ought to be causing some kind of trouble, but they seem to have just vanished. While I’m picking holes, I’ll also point out that people tend not to recognise their own voices the first time they hear a recording of them, so when Zoe plays back the recording Jamie interrupted, he should be puzzled as to the identity of the unseen man who butts in while Zoe is (as he sees it) speaking without moving her lips. Why do the Cybermen just leave the crate with the false bottom wide open, enabling Chang (who seems to be the only member of the Wheel’s crew not to have both a first and a last name) to see it and become suspicious? Their actions after he discovers it are none too logical, either. If, as is implied by their disposing of his corpse in the waste incinerator, they don’t want to risk attracting attention yet, why not control his mind rather than killing him? After all, his disappearance might be noticed. There’s a crude parallel between the Cybermen and Zoe’s potentially emotionally stunting training in the Parapsychology Unit. Worries about educational techniques which could fill the head with data but take away from the humanity of the students may have been a significant concern in the late Sixties (the theme is also present in The Prisoner’s The General, for example), but they seem rather dated now. The idea of using drugs to protect people from ‘brain control’ may well have seemed less absurd back then, too. As for the Silenski capsules, they’re a ludicrous concept, applied in a spectacularly stupid manner. I find it hard enough to believe that these people have a device that can indicate when somebody’s mind is under an external influence, but when it then transpires that they usually leave it switched off so it can’t actually alert anyone if it detects such an influence… Words fail me. In contrast to Bennett, everyone in the Operations Room is very quick to believe the Doctor. While the fact that one of their colleagues has just performed a suicidal act of sabotage does rather clearly indicate that something is wrong, it’s still a bit of a leap for them to immediately accept the story of a stranger whose companion recently sabotaged the Wheel’s best defence against the meteorites for no adequately explained reason. Duggan’s death has significantly more impact than Chang’s, mainly because he’s one of the crew members with a personality, but his screams as he electrocutes himself are rather more unpleasant than Chang’s cries – sufficiently so that those nice Antipodean censors preserved the scene for us. For no readily apparent reason, the Doctor drags Jamie off to the loading bay. They have no way of defending themselves against any Cybermen they encounter, and there are no obvious benefits to be gained from snooping around there: the Doctor already knows how the Cybermen got on board, he’s persuaded most of the crew that the Wheel has been infiltrated anyway, and Bennett is so obviously losing his marbles that there’s little likelihood of any evidence convincing him. Was there no better way of providing a cliffhanger than having the hero needlessly place himself and his friend at risk? Episode 5 The cliffhanger reprise differs from the ending of the last episode, though not in a cheating ‘change the facts to provide a way out of danger’ way. Judging by the telesnaps, it’s a lot more brightly lit second time around, which does make it easier to see what’s going on, but probably diminishes whatever atmosphere the scene had. Additionally, the sequence of events at the start of this episode includes another use of the tired gag where the Doctor warns Jamie to be quiet and promptly knocks something over himself. It’s probably an ad-lib by Troughton, given that it wasn’t in the original version of the scene, but given that the same joke also featured in The Evil of the Daleks, Whitaker could be responsible. Without being able to see the scene, I have no way of telling how plausible it is that the Cyberman could fail to spot Doctor and Jamie during the time it takes them to get to a hiding place. Still, even if the idea that the Cyberman just doesn’t notice them isn’t as daft as it sounds, it’s a pretty weak resolution to a cliffhanger that wasn’t that impressive in the first place. Only once in the three preceding Cyberman stories have the Cybermen used gas against humans, and they’ve tainted food supplies just as often, so while the Doctor’s concluding that the Wheel’s air supply will be targeted doesn’t come out of nowhere, it’s still a bit of a leap, and he has no real reason to chide Jamie for suggesting food as ‘the thing that we need to survive, which the Cybermen don’t’. Then again, it’s clear that the Doctor has had at least one untelevised encounter with the Cybermen, which may be where he found out about the capabilities of the model of Cybermat in use here. The ones in the Tomb weren’t armed like this lot, yet he already knows the range of their weapons, as well as a different weakness from the one he used to deal with the Cybermats on Telos. Any sense of menace the creatures had is diminished by their reactions to the ‘variable audio frequency’. What were they doing in the loading bay in any case? Are they still seeking out Bernalium with the intent of ruining it? Given the absurdity of the Cybermen’s plan, I wouldn’t put it past them to have overlooked the possibility that the Cybermats might destroy the rods they need. An unseen adventure or two could also explain why the Doctor claims that the Cybermen have ‘an overriding ambition’ to plunder the Earth’s mineral wealth. To date their plans as experienced by the viewers have been to destroy the Earth once Mondas has drained enough of its energy, to devastate the planet and eliminate the threat posed by humanity, and to lure logically-minded individuals into a trap with a view to converting them into Cybermen – not so much as a mention of minerals. There’s really no reason (other than the fact that so many fans get excited at the return of old enemies) for the villains in this story to be Cybermen rather than some newly made-up mechanical race. Bennett’s insanity is unusual for Doctor Who in that, rather than going berserk and seeking to destroy everything, he’s withdrawn from reality. His treatment by others seems shockingly outdated by now, what with Dr Corwyn suggesting electroshock treatment, and Zoe bringing him water as if he were a pet. Her concerns about not having been equipped to deal with the unexpected suggest that Bennett may be a product of the Parapsychology Unit that trained her. If so, she’s done well to come out of it with nothing worse than a shortage of empathy. For some reason the deaths that occur in this episode are a lot quieter than the earlier ones. While the crew member on duty in the oxygen supply room isn’t shot like Chang was, Dr Corwyn is, and yet she doesn’t scream the way he did. I’m not sufficiently clued up on the toxic effects of ozone to be certain, but is transforming the Wheel’s air supply into it really going to kill the humans more quickly than just shutting it off, or using some other poison? Flannigan turns out to be another crew member with something of a personality. It’s a regrettable stereotype that the Irishman should turn out to be a good brawler, though, and he’s done his survival prospects no good by going on about the year’s leave he has coming up. The censor clips of his fight with the mind-controlled crewmen make it look a bit more violent than the average Doctor Who punch-up (at least when he beats Laleham’s head against the doors, which probably aren’t supposed to move as much as they do), but it’s very tame by modern standards. Again the cliffhanger arises as a consequence of the Doctor’s making a decision which puts Jamie in danger. It’d seem less contrived if he bothered to explain why he needs the Time Vector Generator, but that would still leave the question of why he chooses to send someone with no prior experience of spacewalking. His claim that Jamie’s ‘the only one who knows what it looks like’ is a little flimsy – he could tell anyone to look for a golden rod that’s been dropped on the floor somewhere on the way from the cabin to the airlock. Considering the dangers that Ryan brings up, the Doctor had better have a very good reason for not waiting until the meteorites have been dealt with before sending Jamie and Zoe across to the Silver Carrier. Episode 6 While I’ve never actually seen a real meteorite out in space, I think it unlikely that they look anything like the smooth, regular and uniform ones seen here. Their destruction is handled pretty sloppily, too. Aren’t shockwaves incapable of travelling through vacuum, like sound? If so, Jamie and Zoe ought not to be shaken about the way that they are. It’s interesting that the Doctor initially tries to avoid mentioning the fact of Dr Corwyn’s death. He may be feeling a little guilty about it, as she wouldn’t have been in the oxygen supply room if she hadn’t been helping send Jamie and Zoe on their way. His talk of her having ‘sacrificed her life to warn us’ of the Cybermen’s plan to poison the air supply comes across as an attempt to justify his having sent her into danger, given that he’d guessed the plan even before the Cybermen made any mention of it. Conveniently, her corpse happened to fall in just the right spot to be clearly visible on the video-com screen, where the sight of it can inspire Bennett to go rushing off and pointlessly get himself killed in a ludicrously overdone manner. The subsequent discovery of her corpse by the returning Jamie and Zoe is handled in a manner which suggests that the actress wasn’t actually present – when the body’s in shot with the two youngsters, the camera angle cuts off its head, and the close-ups showing her face are obviously photographic stills. Why has it taken the Cybermen so long to try and identify the person on the Wheel who’s had prior experience of them? They worked out that there must be someone with knowledge of their methods following the destruction of the Cybermats, but it’s not until the thwarting of the attempt to poison everyone (which doesn’t actually prove anything, as Dr Corwyn overheard them talking about it and reported it) that they decide to try and find out who it is and eliminate him. It’s also odd that, when projecting mental images of the people on the Wheel, Vallance thinks of the Doctor ahead of so many of the people with whom he’s been living and working for so long, especially as the Doctor hadn’t done anything to distinguish himself prior to the Cybermen’s taking over Vallance’s mind. It’d make more sense for him to think of Jamie ahead of the Doctor, what with the Scot’s having sabotaged the laser and been wandering around the station enough to get himself noticed. This scene also clearly shows an aspect of the décor which rather dates the story: the prominent use of lava lamps in the oxygen supply room. They may have looked futuristic and ‘spacey’ to the set designer, but nowadays they just say ‘sixties’. Zoe’s managing to intercept the Cybermen’s transmissions is rather implausible, and doesn’t really make any difference to the story, as the Doctor doesn’t need warning of the plot against him. Though the Wheel crew should know Flannigan well, and are aware that the Cybermen are using mind control, it’s only the Doctor who picks up on the Irishman’s flat tones as a hint that he’s not himself, and for some reason he doesn’t state outright that the man is under Cyber-influence or suggest that they use their handy mind control detection device. He drops a big enough hint anyway, but there’s no good reason for him not to spell it out. In this episode, the Doctor’s quite unlike the common perception of his character. He puts his own needs ahead of those of the Wheel’s crew, stealing the vial of mercury before starting his search for the parts needed for repairing the communications equipment. Then he rigs up a lethal booby-trap to kill one of the Cybermen, providing the series with its first Cyberman death that looks like frenzied dancing – a scene that is (presumably unintentionally) echoed in The Age of Steel. Finally, in a woefully uninspired solution to the approaching threat, he turns the laser into a more powerful gun to blow up the Cybermen’s ship. It’s funny how often this gets overlooked by fans who criticise later Doctors for going against the character’s ‘pacifistic’ ways. The FX depicting the Cybermen spacewalking towards the Wheel aren’t very impressive, and those that show them being repelled by the neutron force field are even worse. What’s with the spacewalking anyway? Are these Cybermen supposed to have survived the destruction of their ship and be trying to reach the Wheel by their own efforts, or did they just choose to get out and walk before the boosted laser blew the ship up? Considering what happens at the end of The War Games, there’s an unintended cruel irony to Jamie’s telling Zoe ‘we won’t forget you,’ when saying goodbye to her. Not that it is goodbye, as she manages to stow away in the TARDIS with impressive speed. Incidentally, the wall of the console room that’s just a photo is looking decidedly tatty in the shot where the Doctor replenishes the ship’s mercury supply. The Doctor’s attempt to warn Zoe of the sort of dangers she’ll be facing if she travels with him and Jamie (in case her recent experiences haven’t made it obvious) is an interestingly odd way of setting up the repeat showing of The Evil of the Daleks. All the more so when he doesn’t start at the beginning, and mentally projects a perfect reconstruction of an incident he never actually witnessed. It’s a pity that the scene in question is part of the 15% or so of the earlier story that still survives in the BBC archive anyway, rather than an otherwise lost clip. All in all, The Wheel in Space is a pretty poor season finale, with the most badly thought-out Cyberman plot to date. It’s still nowhere near as awful as The Underwater Menace, but with David Whitaker’s name on the script, it should have been a great deal better than it is. I don’t think season 5 lives up to its reputation, but for the most part the stories are still good, just not as great as they’re made out to be, and this is the only one that I’d call actually bad. Right now I just hope that the next story is better than is generally made out, because this stretch of the marathon is proving a real struggle. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 19th, 2009
12:12 pm	Doctor Who Review Archive: Fury from the Deep Episode 1 That shot of the TARDIS arriving in mid-air and gently descending to settle on the waves is impressive, but I do have to wonder why there’s no safety feature to prevent it from materialising such a long way up. Still, this does go some way towards explaining how the ship could be seen coming in to land at the start of The Tomb of the Cybermen. I’m not sure how the Doctor and his companions managed to get the door open and the dinghy launched without flooding the console room (and, considering the horseplay in which they indulge after reaching the beach, I dare say that their inflating the thing inside there would have been a pretty slapstick affair). The TARDIS’ ability to float could prove problematic if it doesn’t have some way of anchoring itself, and there was no sign of it when the tide came in back in 1066. Jamie and Victoria’s observations on the TARDIS’ repeated visits to Earth seem an obvious attempt at forestalling viewers’ complaints of the same thing, but unless there have been a lot of unseen adventures set in the same general area between The Web of Fear and this one, Jamie’s pointing out that ‘it’s always England’ is just wrong. Going by what’s been said in assorted first episodes, the TARDIS went from Telos to Tibet, then England, Australia, and England again before coming here. A distinct anglocentric bias, I concede, but far from ‘always’. While shooting trespassers (even just with tranquiliser guns) is a rather extreme response on the part of the base crew, the Doctor ought not to have been fiddling with the box attached to the pipe. Curiosity is less serious than sabotage, but that doesn’t make it a valid justification. A significant consequence of his snooping is the introduction of the Sonic Screwdriver (here used to undo some screws), though it’s not yet the all-purpose cop-out device that it becomes at some points in the series’ future. Indeed, it has yet to acquire the capability to unlock anything (subject to plot requirements), as it’s Victoria’s skill with a hairpin that gets the regulars out of their cell. The ominous beating sound coming from the pipe is barely audible when first mentioned, which may have left some viewers wondering what noise the Doctor and Jamie are going on about. Robson is a classic example of the man who ought not to be in charge, as concerned with his reputation as Clent, but also paranoid, unwilling to listen to advice, and showing some signs of cognitive dissonance in his insistence that the drop in pressure indicates nothing worse than a faulty gauge. His boast about having spent four years on a rig without a break goes some way towards explaining his instability, and there are enough real world instances of unsuitable people being given positions of authority that his having been made Controller is regrettably plausible. He does at least prove more security-conscious than the likes of General Cutler and Hobson, keeping the new arrivals out of the control room and having them locked up until the emergency has passed and he can deal with them properly. Harris is rather more thinly sketched, and his willingness to confide in the Doctor at such an early stage is a bit too unbelievable. Still, his relationship with his wife gives him a little more substance, and his ill-advised suggestion that Robson is ‘scared that I might prove you wrong’ does a good job of suggesting that the man’s frequent put-downs are getting to him, even if he does try not to show it. Van Lutyens’ presence (and Robson’s resentment thereof) adds an element of boardroom politics into the mix, and his muttering of insults in Dutch after being given the brush-off is a nice touch (though that does raise questions about the selective nature of the TARDIS’ translating capabilities). However, he has yet to show much signs of a personality, and is just another voice to point out how unreasonable the Controller is being. The sounds in the pipes and the problems faced by the base crew are minor indications that all is not well, but before long more serious signs start to show. Carney’s placid repetition of the phrase ‘everything’s under control’ is decidedly creepy, and the moving of the file which backs up Harris’ concerns indicates the presence of someone hostile within the base. Evidently a fast mover, as the file’s absence is soon noticed, and Harris is quick to send Maggie to look for it back at their quarters, but it’s already been planted there with an unpleasant surprise inside by the time she gets back. Are there forms of seaweed that have a sting? I’ve never heard of any such type, and yet when the clump of weed in the file stings Maggie, there’s no suggestion that the fact of the stinging is unusual in and of itself. Still, it becomes clear that this is no ordinary seaweed once it starts to make the sound that was heard in the pipe, this time loudly enough to be heard properly. Jamie’s poking fun at Victoria after the Doctor sends her back to the bunk room provides a reason why someone as highly-strung as she would wander off and start nosing about when it’s already clear that something strange is afoot. It’s a little convenient that she should happen to stumble across the enemy infiltrator as he’s committing sabotage, and for a young lady from the Victorian era she seems remarkably adept at closing the valves on oxygen cylinders. Perhaps the antidote to the tranquiliser was in similar containers, and she saw how they were operated when it was administered to her and the others, but none of the surviving visual material indicates whether or not that is the case. It sounds as if the cliffhanger is handled well, making the eruption of foam and seaweed from the grille seem menacing, and while Victoria’s shrieking does get on my nerves, I do quite like the way her cries overlap with the theme music for several seconds as the end titles commence. Episode 2 Victoria’s rescue seems a bit rushed, though that may be a consequence of the episode’s absence from the archives. There’s no indication from the soundtrack that the locked door poses any problem to Jamie and the Doctor, but actually seeing them force it might make a big difference. While the weed and foam don’t come across as being so much more horrific than everything else Victoria has encountered as to explain her hysterical condition, it makes sense (especially in the light of subsequent developments) to conclude that the cumulative effect of her terrifying experiences has driven her to this state. Robson’s suspecting Victoria of having broken the seals on the oxygen cylinders is understandable, and while the unexplained presence of a toxic gas in the room does indicate that there’s more to the situation than meets the eye, it’s still a little unconvincing that he so quickly stops thinking of the Doctor and his companions as saboteurs. His closed-mindedness and stubbornness are already starting to become tiresome, and the steps taken to try and make his characterisation a little less one-note have a limited effect. His handling of the pressure build-up demonstrates that he does know his stuff, and the Chief Engineer’s taking his side not simply because he’s in charge but based on a respect that has grown from long experience indicates that the Controller must be able to relate to others in a less antagonistic manner than he has been doing all story, but Robson’s actions do nothing to show that he’s any good at dealing with people. Married couples have been mighty scarce in Doctor Who up until now, and the Harrises (does he have a first name?) are the first to show any real affection for each other. He gets a bit overwrought as it becomes clear how seriously she has been affected by the seaweed sting, but her condition does at least provide a reason for him to seek the Doctor’s help, with the base medic off-site and nobody else apparently qualified to provide medical assistance. His realisation that he was the intended victim of what has happened to his wife also helps substantiate the time travellers’ claims of innocence, indicating that someone in the refinery is up to no good. Mr Oak and Mr Quill are an effective pair of villains, capable of looking decidedly sinister, yet not so obviously dodgy as to make it absurd that nobody has twigged that they’re up to no good. The seaweed growing from the duo’s arms adds an element of the monstrous, but it’s something sufficiently easy to conceal that they can maintain the pretence of being ordinary workers. Their gaining access to the Harrises’ quarters is handled well, Oak’s reference to ‘Chief Robson’s instructions’ neatly playing on the man’s reputation for laying down regulations that inconvenience others. The scene in which they breathe gas at Maggie, reducing her to a comatose state, could have been absurd, but everyone involved treats the bizarre situation seriously, making it quite disturbing, with an unpleasant undertone of violation provided by their carrying out the attack in the bedroom. Van Lutyens still doesn’t have much of a personality, but his impressed response to Robson’s use of the valve, and his apology to the Chief Engineer following their brief argument, indicate that he’s a reasonable man, on edge because of the situation he can see developing and because of Robson’s needlessly provocative manner. In an unusual development, the focus of the cliffhanger is on him, spelling out the nature of the threat that is becoming apparent. It wouldn’t have been hard for Pemberton to contrive a reason to bring the Doctor into the impeller room and give him the ominous realisation, but there’s no real need to have any of the regulars directly involved in the scene, and the line, “It’s down there… in the darkness… in the pipeline… waiting…” is strong enough that it works just as well coming from a supporting character as it would have from the lead. Mind you, it’d probably be even better if the alien sound weren’t so faint. Episode 3 In the cliffhanger reprise, the beating noise is a lot more audible, so I’m obviously not the only person who thought it wasn’t loud enough before. By now the sense of danger is strong enough that the monster can be explicitly identified as seaweed without the absurdity of the concept robbing it of any menace. The precautions the Doctor takes in collecting a sample of the weed show that he’s taking it seriously, and his relative lack of concern about Maggie indicates that the threat posed by the weed is too large for him to allow the welfare of individuals to distract him from it. Considering that Harris brought the Doctor in because of the absence of the base’s doctor, he’s remarkably untroubled by the casual ‘I’d get her under medical supervision if I were you’ with which the Doctor dismisses her. All the more so when his concern for her keeps distracting him from the problems with the refinery. Robson’s stubbornness and paranoia are becoming increasingly tiresome. While, as the Chief Engineer points out, the way Harris and Van Lutyens are approaching the situation isn’t helping matters, it’s hard to feel much sympathy for the Controller after he mockingly suggests that Maggie’s condition is caused by drink. Even so, his breakdown is a little shocking. There’s also an indication that he’s not supposed to be a purely negative character in the way he comes under the influence of the weed creature. Rather than having him dismiss everyone else’s concerns and deliberately touch a clump of weed, so his being affected comes across as just deserts for his refusal to listen to others, he is the target of a deliberate attack, set up by Mr Oak. He’s nowhere near as unsympathetic a character as a victim of others’ machinations as he would be if his own pig-headedness had brought him to grief. It’s rather convenient that the TARDIS has been washed ashore, enabling the Doctor to analyse the weed in his own laboratory. I’m sure the refinery has adequate facilities for such research, but having the weed get dangerously out of control inside the perceived sanctuary of the ship does give the threat an edge that would be absent within an earthly lab. Considering the tendency of the show to debunk myths by providing a ‘rational’ explanation for them, it’s a little surprising that when the Doctor finds a reference to the creature in the book of ‘legends and superstitions’, he doesn’t bother to dismiss such beliefs as, at best, fanciful extrapolations from events misunderstood by the ignorant folk who witnessed them, as would usually happen. With the Doctor as yet uninvolved with the problems affecting the pipeline (despite having been blamed for them), Van Lutyens serves as a substitute for him in the refinery sequences. Like the cliffhanger to the previous episode, his comments about the situation’s being beyond Robson’s comprehension, and the rigs having been taken over, are the sort of thing that would normally be said by the Doctor. While he has been on the rigs more recently than anyone else, he does seem better informed about the danger than can be easily explained. Though leaving the Doctor on the periphery for around half the story is an interesting alternative to having him implausibly quickly accepted by those in charge, the fact that one of the other characters has to serve as a surrogate for him shows that it isn’t working that well. Besides, when the Doctor does march in and announce his discoveries, everyone believes him straight away, so there’s no real sense that he’s had to work to convince them that he knows what he’s going on about. They’ve still acknowledged his authority with unconvincing rapidity – it’s just happened a little later than usual. There’s a fair bit done to set things up for the end of the story. Twice a clue is provided as to the creature’s weakness, the Doctor noticing the unusual ease with which it is subdued, but not yet understanding the cause. Victoria’s complaints about the near-constant peril to which her travels have subjected her are the first hint that she won’t be with the TARDIS crew for much longer, and I have to say that I won’t be particularly sorry when she does leave. The assistance she provides in the laboratory is evidence of some of her character’s wasted potential, but by now I’m so fed up of her wailing and crying and shrieking that I’d rather be rid of her than dwell on what might have been if more scripts had played to her strengths. For the second cliffhanger running, none of the regulars are involved, and it doesn’t matter. The subdued incidentals create an unsettling atmosphere from the start, and Maggie’s placidly walking into the sea until the waters swallow her up is chilling stuff. The telesnaps can only do so much to convey how well the scene was realised, but that final shot is very evocative: a vast expanse of water, Maggie’s head just visible in the middle, dwarfed by the oncoming wave. Episode 4 Further emphasis is placed on Victoria’s unhappiness with the adventuring lifestyle. Considering the nature of some of the threats the Doctor has overcome since she first met him, there’s little justification for her doubts that he will be able to deal with the weed creatures. She’s just unnecessarily working herself up into a panic, and while that is something that people do in real life, it’s not an appealing habit, and her doing so just makes her even more irritating. Her suggestion that the only thing which could wake Jamie would be ‘a bomb dropping’ sounds a little anachronistic, though that could be explained away by, say, an untelevised adventure set in Blitz-ravaged London. It’s not clear what the weed has achieved by taking over Robson. There’s a wonderfully ominous quality to his telling Harris that he’ll find Maggie ‘Very soon,’ but apart from that, little has come of his being possessed. He could have returned to the refinery, acted normally, and used his authority to obstruct everyone else’s efforts to combat the weed, but as it is, he just vanishes for half the episode, and when he does reappear, rather than trying to discredit Harris and the Doctor, he’s so obviously deranged that the until now sceptical Jones and Perkins start to realise that there is something to the stories they’ve been hearing. His ranting and yelling is also very unlike the behaviour of the other weed-controlled people, who’ve all been very quiet and calm. Van Lutyens’ decision to check the base of the impeller shaft is the sort of risk the Doctor would take (as indeed he does later, emotionally blackmailing Jamie into accompanying him), but with the Doctor now getting involved in the main plot, there’s no longer any need for a human stand-in for him, so the Dutchman’s status changes to ‘victim whose horrible fate illustrates the danger facing our hero’. It’s obvious from the outset that nothing good can come of his descent, and the presence of Oak and Quill at the controls heightens the sense that the venture is doomed. The censor clips from the sequences in the shaft (which, strangely, aren’t in the right order) are pretty impressive, but the suspenseful build-up is just as important to the tone of the story as the actual attacks, and that is, alas, still missing. The Chief Engineer’s mention of the ladder in the impeller shaft is a reasonably discreet way of establishing its existence so it doesn’t come across as being too convenient when the Doctor and Jamie use it to escape after the lift is raised. While the Doctor and Jamie are getting their dose of unnecessary peril, Victoria does yet more whingeing, and becomes another wasted opportunity for the weed. She’s left alone with Oak and Quill, who merely knock her out and lock her up. Why don’t they at least try to bring her under the influence of the weed? There seems little reason for the addition of Jones and Perkins to the line-up. Megan’s initial assumption as to the nature of the problem makes sense (assuming the existence of the rational and competent Robson she and the Chief Engineer claim to have known), but the Controller’s outburst removes any likelihood of her supporting him and thereby adding complications to the battle against the weed. Her scepticism helps pad the episode out a little, but by the end of the episode there’s undeniable proof of the existence of the weed creatures, so she’ll need a new function for the rest of the story. While the helicopter pilot’s report is a rather obvious cost-cutting move (not only are we merely told of the foam and weed swamping the silent rigs, but even that is relayed via Harris to save the expense of getting in another actor), the subsequent call from the control rig, showing Chief Baxter being overwhelmed, does help make up for the earlier avoidance of showing the extent of the creatures’ dominance. Harris’ talk of blowing up the affected rigs is an alarming overreaction, and his confidence in the Doctor doesn’t entirely fit with what has gone before. Though plenty of stories have had the Doctor repeatedly disbelieved, only for subsequent events to prove him right, little of that nature has gone on here. Besides, Maggie was in the Doctor’s care just before she went missing, so it’s surprising that Harris doesn’t hold that against him. In any case, the appearance of a mass of weed in the transparent section of pipe backs up the Doctor’s claims far more effectively than any amount of vouching for him by base personnel. Episode 5 As usual, things become more serious as the end of the story draws closer, with all of the rigs overcome by the weed and the refinery increasingly under threat. Harris’ concern about the men on the rigs shows that he is able to look beyond personal concerns and consider the wider implications of the situation, which hadn’t been apparent when he was getting so worked up about Maggie. Now that Megan Jones accepts the reality of the situation, she responds to it quickly and efficiently. Nevertheless, she hasn’t sacrificed her humanity in order to reach her position of authority, as is shown by her attempts to get through to Robson. Her use of his first name adds weight to her claim that they are old friends, and it’s also significant that she only tries to exert her authority when persuasion has failed. It’s a little alarming that, when the weed’s hold on him proves too strong to break, the guard posted outside his quarters is armed with something that looks a lot more lethal than a tranquiliser gun. The presence of such weapons at the refinery, combined with the revelation that all the workers’ fingerprints are kept on file, suggests a far more authoritarian set-up than has been apparent until now. Nothing more comes of these worrying hints, though. The Doctor seems a little slow on the uptake. He’s had all of the evidence which leads him to theorise that oxygen may be harmful to the weed since early on in episode 2, but it’s only now that he puts the clues together. Likewise, he should have been thinking about the weed’s having agents inside the refinery ever since he pointed out that the clump which stung Maggie was planted in an attempt to get at Harris. Instead, he doesn’t bring it up until the oxygen supplies are found to have been disposed of, and he makes no contribution to the identification of Oak and Quill as the infiltrators. In case the point hasn’t yet been made clearly enough, Victoria provides another reminder that she’s not happy with life as a companion of the Doctor. Her wanting to abandon the people at the refinery to their fate is a bit much, though, and she has no reason to believe that the TARDIS’ next destination will be any safer in any case. Her scream during Jamie’s fight with Quill seems gratuitous, though it’s possible that if the episode were available to watch, the visuals might show that there was something specific to prompt the shriek. Considering the weed’s hinted-at but as yet unrevealed vulnerability, it’s a little odd that Victoria, its principal source, should be chosen as a hostage. It’d make sense if there were any indication that the weed recognised the threat she posed and wanted to neutralise that danger, but the fact that no attempt is made at taking her over, even while she’s unconscious and unable to harm the weed, suggests that that is not the case. Instead, it’s just an ill-judged decision which will help bring about the creatures’ downfall. At times this Doctor has shown signs of willingness to disregard the well-being of his companions for the sake of the bigger picture (his preparedness to risk cutting Jamie off from everyone else by blowing up the tunnels leading to Goodge Street in The Web of Fear, for example), so it’s possible that he means what he says about following Robson’s instructions in the hope of discovering the weed’s nerve centre, rather than for Victoria’s sake. It’s strange that the nerve centre should turn out to be the control rig complex, which only fell to the weed last episode, rather than one of the rigs that had succumbed even before the Doctor arrived. I wonder why the weed doesn’t attack Jamie and the Doctor as soon as they arrive on the rig. They descend from the helicopter into a mass of foam, so it seems like an obvious set-up for an ambush, but the opportunity goes to waste. Still, the telesnap of the control room, chest-deep in foam, with the weed-infested Robson standing there to greet the Doctor, suggests that the cliffhanger was high-grade nightmare fodder. Episode 6 What’s all this about matter versus mind that comes up in the Doctor’s confrontation with Robson? Pemberton may be trying to convey thought processes unlike those of humans. If so, he should be commended for trying, but I’m none too impressed with the fuzzy mysticism produced. On the whole, the story’s been pretty consistent in showing the weed’s adverse reaction to Victoria’s screams, while not making it too obvious that they are the reason for its withdrawing (though she did make a lot of noise before it reacted back in episodes 1 and 2). Whether the Doctor has been mentally assembling the clues, or has a sudden flash of inspiration, it’s now that he realises, and he proves a lot quicker in thinking up a way of exploiting her cries as a weapon than he was at figuring out what to do earlier on in the story. Given that the weed recognises the Doctor’s intelligence as a threat, I still don’t understand why it didn’t also notice the danger Victoria posed to it, and try to silence her (and, considering her behaviour in the past, you’d think that while held prisoner she’d have made enough of a row to unknowingly repel all the weed within earshot). This episode is a little low on plot, which regrettably leads to a lot of padding relating to the Doctor’s poor helicopter piloting skills. The sequence undoubtedly loses a lot by only existing in audio, and it could be that the various stunts and daredevil manoeuvres carried out looked exciting enough to keep the viewers gripped back in 1968. Without those visuals, it drags terribly. It takes quite some time for the pilot in the other ‘copter to make contact with the Doctor and advise him on the correct technique, and the dialogue as he instructs the Doctor is very repetitive. Still, the Doctor’s sheepishly asking how to land the craft is a decent gag with which to conclude the airborne shenanigans. Back at the refinery, Harris has suddenly adopted a very defeatist attitude, and his insistence upon evacuating suggests that he’s forgotten the Doctor’s warning that the whole of the British Isles, maybe even the world, could be at threat. Thankfully, Jones is as competent and efficient as ever, making arrangements for the bringing in of fresh supplies of oxygen to combat the weed. While her plans prove unnecessary, it’s good that she is taking intelligent steps to try and deal with the problem. Mr Quill’s off-screen recovery from his weed infestation provides further evidence of the effectiveness of Victoria’s screams, but we never do find out what happens to Mr Oak. Presumably he gets cured as a side-effect of the defeat of the creatures, but it’s a pity that he’s simply never heard from again. Such a sinister duo deserved a better send-off. Now the destructive potential of Victoria’s voice has been discovered, there’s a predictable race against time to exploit it before the weed takes over. This is dragged out a little to add to the tension, first by Victoria’s proving unable to scream for the tape recorder because ‘it’s silly’ (surely her crowning moment of uselessness), and then by Price’s panic-stricken failure to switch on the recording, but the outcome is never in any real doubt. For once, the Doctor and companions don’t quietly slip away once the monsters have been defeated. Victoria’s decision to leave the TARDIS has been set up over the course of the story (slightly heavy-handedly, but it’s still a big improvement on the rush-job departures of the last few companions to go), and the Doctor takes the uncharacteristic step of hanging around for a bit so she can properly make up her mind. This provides an opportunity to see the restoration of the status quo among the refinery staff, with Robson now a lot more stable and friendly than he was before. He hasn’t entirely lost his edge, as is shown by his insistence that the Doctor and Jamie follow proper procedure on future visits, and his telling off the workers who try to finish their shifts early, but he is a good deal more laid-back. At last we have a glimpse of him as he must have been once, to gain the friendship and respect of those who stood by him when he was being so unreasonable. I’m not sure that going through the stories in broadcast order does Fury from the Deep any favours. It’s a decent enough story, with some good characterisation and a fair bit of atmosphere, but to an extent it does come across as a rehash of elements of several of the preceding stories, and the formula is starting to get a bit stale. Though none of its flaws are particularly serious, and plenty of what goes on in it is done well, its similarities to so much of the rest of the season take some of the shine off. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, August 18th, 2009
4:13 pm	Doctor Who Review Archive: The Web of Fear Episode 1 One drawback of starting with the time travellers in peril is that we get Victoria wailing and moaning from the very outset. It’s getting to be almost all she ever does, and I’m finding it increasingly tiresome. While the resolution to the cliffhanger that led into this story is straightforward, the regulars do a decent job of keeping it from looking too easy. One or two shots of the open doors would have been nice (and informative for anyone who missed the previous episode and didn’t know what the problem was), but I can understand the production team’s reluctance to try and depict whatever is outside the TARDIS while it’s travelling through time and space. With order restored within the TARDIS, the viewers are then teased with a close-up on a Yeti which turns out to be an inert collection piece. The arrival of Anne Travers is a neat expository vehicle, her surname evoking further memories of The Abominable Snowmen, and the indication that she is the daughter of the explorer from the earlier story making it clear that some time has passed since then. Further information is revealed in the course of the subsequent argument with the regrettably stereotypical Silverstein, some of it rather odd. Professor Travers’ attempts to reactivate the control sphere sound very unwise, and given that he was an anthropologist, his interest in such a mechanical matter seems all the more peculiar. Anne’s patronising tone suggests that she doesn’t believe whatever she’s been told about her father’s experiences in Tibet, though the events that follow must cause her to start taking his reminiscences more seriously. While the Yeti’s transformation into a new form following its reactivation is a touch bizarre, on the whole the sequence showing its revival is handled well, enhanced by more moody Bartok music. The peculiar circumstances of the TARDIS’ materialisation in space got me speculating. If there’s any connection between the vortex through which the ship travels and the astral plane on which Padmasambhava made contact with the Great Intelligence, it could be that the open doors allowed the Intelligence to find the Doctor and take action against him. With Travers’ experiments on the sphere creating suitable conditions for it to begin manifesting itself on Earth again, maybe it then immobilised the TARDIS until it could get itself properly established, and then directed the ship to where and when it wanted the Doctor (while it’s never made clear how long the TARDIS was trapped, the fact that Victoria’s still in her new costume suggests that its not as long as the time that must elapse between the reactivation of the Yeti and the TARDIS’ arrival in London). I don’t remember any of this being stated in the script, but it fits, and is more plausible than the TARDIS’ just happening to have a funny turn that leaves it vulnerable to capture. It’s not made immediately obvious that a significant amount of time has passed between the first two scenes set on Earth. At first it’s possible that the army have been brought in just to deal with the one Yeti, though the sleazy Chorley’s attempt to interview Travers makes it clear that there must be more wrong than that. It becomes more obvious that this is serious business when Victoria draws attention to the silence of London, and the web-shrouded corpse of the newspaper seller provides a little more information. Just how bad things have become is indicated by the soldiers’ having resorted to blowing up sections of the Underground. Nevertheless, much of what has transpired between Silverstein’s death and the drafting in of Travers remains unexplained by the end of the episode. Bizarre as some of the concepts in The Abominable Snowmen were, they’re nothing on the set-up here. The robot Yeti are back, but this time they’re occupying the London Underground and killing people with guns that smother them in cobwebs. One of the wonderful things about Doctor Who is that writers can pitch ideas as utterly loopy as that and be encouraged to turn them into scripts. While it’s Anne who realises that the two youngsters found wandering around in the tunnels might not have been on their own, the army men are very conscientious in their efforts to avoid causing unnecessary fatalities once they’ve been alerted to the possibility. Jamie’s “How many more times?” makes it clear that the Staff Sergeant has been persistent in his questioning him and Victoria about whether or not they were with anyone else, so the rapidity with which Captain Knight orders the detonation of the explosives once he’s double-checked with Arnold doesn’t seem unreasonable. It’s odd that the contained explosion flashes on and off as the end titles roll, though. Couldn’t the production team have dispensed with the customary gradual fade out of the last shot just this once? The inclusion of an image of pulsating web towards the end of the closing credits shows a willingness to innovate, so there’s no obvious reason why they had to do things the normal way at the beginning. Episode 2 For the most part, the soldiers are proving very competent and efficient, quick to respond when it becomes apparent that a civilian may have been harmed by the detonation, but not letting the distraction provide an opportunity for Jamie and Victoria to escape. Their suspecting that the Doctor may be responsible for the explosion’s lack of effect is understandable under the circumstances, and their faring so poorly against the Yeti is a consequence of the resilience and technological superiority of the enemy rather than any real failings on their part. Evans does rather let the side down, though. There’s nothing wrong with his being afraid, but his intent to escape at the earliest opportunity is cowardice. Given his insubordinate attitude, I can’t think why he ever joined up in the first place. National Service ended in 1960, so it’s unlikely that he was conscripted, whether you believe this story is set at the time it was broadcast or (as dialogue implies) in the 1970s. Chorley is similarly cowardly, but as a civilian he doesn’t have the same responsibilities. He’s also as much of a stereotype as Silverstein was: constantly sticking his nose in where it’s not wanted, and more concerned with sensationalism than accurate reportage. His talent for winding people up makes me wonder if he was selected to cover events in London in the hope that he might prove one of the casualties rather than because of any journalistic excellence. Both of the Doctor’s companions do well this episode. Jamie makes some astute deductions about the involvement of the Great Intelligence (and it’ll be a few episodes before it becomes clear just how right he is), and shows courage in his determination to keep looking for the Doctor. Victoria’s recognising Travers helps establish the time travellers’ credentials, and she demonstrates some good understanding of psychology in her suggestion of why he never mentioned the Doctor or the TARDIS to anyone. Though I don’t recall Travers having been told anything about the time machine back in The Abominable Snowmen, it’s possible that the Doctor could have mentioned it during the journey away from Detsen. While Victoria’s attempt to find and warn the Doctor after overhearing Anne voicing her tenuous suspicions of the Doctor is extremely foolhardy, it’s also very brave. Evans could learn a thing or two from her. The off-screen massacre at Holborn, portrayed by means of the sounds of gunfire, Yeti and dying soldiers over the radio, is a nicely economical way of establishing how ineffective the army are in this situation, and whets the audience’s appetite for the fighting that goes on in the tunnels later. With only a short censor clip and a few telesnaps to go on, it’s hard to judge how well done the battle sequence is, but what little there is to go on is impressive. Knight’s ineffectual detonation of the barricade of explosives rather neatly shows the troops that their failure to destroy Charing Cross probably isn’t due to any interference on the part of the Doctor. Judging by the line, “The boxes are pulsating,” it would seem that the flashing at the end of episode 1 was intentional, but what it’s supposed to signify, I cannot tell. Equally mysterious is the Yeti’s abandonment of the survivors after capturing them, which appears to serve no purpose other than to get the characters out of the hole into which the scriptwriters had placed them. Weams and Blake’s speculation as to what the Yeti are and where they’re from gives their characters a little more substance, and provides the series with its first instance of someone dismissing the possibility of aliens in favour of a more conventional explanation. Weams’ scornful dismissal of Travers’ claims does raise the question of why everyone is referring to the Yeti by that name when there’s so little to connect them with the legendary abominable snowmen in their current context. While the tube map showing the spread of the fungus is an effective illustration of what’s going on, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Has a network of sensors been established within the tunnels, specially calibrated to register the growth of alien organisms? And if so, was it there already, or did some poor beleaguered squaddies have to install it after the Yeti and the web established their presence down there? Still, it does help set up a rather good cliffhanger, with the mention of station names and the affected line indicating that Jamie and Evans are in trouble a little while before they realise that they’re caught between two advancing fronts of the stuff. Episode 3 Not being able to watch this episode makes it hard to be sure, but Jamie and Evans’ escape doesn’t seem to make sense. How does the archway of which Jamie speaks provide a way out of the station and back into the section of the Underground that is surrounded by the Circle Line? Even if it provides access to other levels of the station, and thus to the other lines which pass through it, that shouldn’t help, in the light of Arnold’s reminder to Chorley that the influence of the fungus spreads above and below the infested tunnels. It appears that the Great Intelligence has learned from its previous defeat, as the trick that got rid of it last time doesn’t work here. This revelation is a little while in coming, as Evans proves a poor shot (to add to all his other ‘bad soldier’ qualities), but eventually he manages to hit the target, which achieves next to nothing (beyond showing the audience that the Doctor will have to come up with a new solution this time round) and forces Jamie and Evans to make their inexplicable escape. Even if this episode were not missing, no fan could ever experience it in quite the same way as the viewers of the original broadcast did. In February 1968, the soldier with the Doctor was a mysterious and vaguely sinister figure, distrustful of the Doctor and a possible candidate for the enemy within. Nowadays he’s instantly recognisable as ‘the Brigadier’ (even if he is only a Colonel at this stage), and thus obviously one of the good guys. It doesn’t take long for his better qualities to start showing through: he accepts the Doctor once people he trusts vouch for him, handles the increasingly desperate Chorley well, and shows courage (though the foolhardy sort) in arranging to try and retrieve the explosives from Holborn. At last we get an explanation of what went on between the reactivation of the Yeti and the arrival of the TARDIS. So far the setting has allowed for little in the way of juxtaposing the familiar with the alien (at least for those who don’t regularly use the Tube), but Knight’s slide show probably makes up for that to an extent. The telesnaps show little of what was projected onto the screen, so the sights of web-enshrouded London are lost, and I can only speculate as to how evocative they might have been. Though there’s no actual countdown, the continuing spread of the fungus helps create a sense that time is running out. The Doctor’s arrival may well be the reason the pace has suddenly picked up: once it had its pieces in position, the Intelligence might have been waiting until it had its enemy more or less where it wanted him, only taking such action as was necessary to prevent the army from interfering in its plans until it was ready to make its move against the Doctor. It’s clearly very confident, given that it uses its agent only to thwart the Doctor’s plans for blowing up the tunnels, rather than exploiting its access to the fortress and massacring everyone at the earliest opportunity. Victoria has gone back to being annoying. Her concerns about the possibility of Jamie’s being cut off from everyone else are understandable, but the overly emotional way in which she expresses them just gets on my nerves. As for her telling Chorley all about the TARDIS (and, judging by the scepticism he initially shows, without even much prompting on his part), even if she’s unaware that one of the people in the fortress is working for the Intelligence, I can’t think why she would want to talk with such an unpleasant individual. It’s just foolishness for the sake of adding another wrinkle to the plot. The reappearance of the model Yeti with which Padmasambhava controlled the movements of the full-sized robots helps add to the tension by providing a way that individuals may be singled out as victims. The models don’t work in exactly the same way as they did before, but as the traitor is seen to make a few alterations to the circuitry beforehand, this seems more like the use of a different function than a lapse in continuity. At this stage in the series’ development, recurring characters who are neither enemies nor companions are very uncommon (Travers may even be the first), so there’s no precedent to give any indication of their chances of survival. Consequently, the threat faced by the Professor in the cliffhanger has a little more of an edge than any danger that might confront the Doctor or his companions. We can be reasonably sure that the regulars will escape from any menace, but there’s much less certainty when the character in peril is just an old friend. Episode 4 The brief and unsuccessful search for Chorley reveals a couple of things along the way. Firstly, it shows Evans’ cowardice to be even more craven than had been indicated, as he tries to avoid the risk of having to confront the fugitive journalist. That wouldn’t be so unreasonable if he understood the nature of the Great Intelligence and was fearful of coming up against a man possessed by the entity, but there’s nothing to indicate that he’s aware of any such possibility. The Doctor is, though, and this prompts the second revelation: he believes Chorley (or the Intelligence that may be controlling him) to be able to enter and operate the TARDIS. Such concerns are uncommon, but understandable given that the ship has already been immobilised once this story. With Yeti having raided the fortress twice by now, the continuing approach of the fungus becomes little more than a countdown: the Intelligence can get in whenever it likes, and then destroy, capture and kill according to its whims, so in some ways the inexorable advance of the web doesn’t really matter. For now, the Intelligence is playing with the survivors, and the game will end once Goodge Street is engulfed. Another indication that things are building towards a climax is the killing off of so many of the soldiers. The men on guard in the fortress, the two who rather optimistically try to get through the web in gas masks, everyone who accompanies Lethbridge-Stewart on his vain attempt to retrieve the TARDIS from Covent Garden, and even Captain Knight all meet a nasty end over the course of the episode (well, not quite all, I know, but that’s how it seems). There’s not a lot I can say about the big set piece battle between the Colonel’s troops and the Yeti, with only a few censor clips and photos to show how it went, but the use of stock music which has featured prominently in every Cyberman story to date does jar somewhat. It seems rather pointless that the soldiers keep on firing the weapons that prove so ineffective, but if that’s all they could do to try and stave off the inevitable, I can see a futile last stand appealing slightly more than simply waiting to get massacred. Much of the slaughter is a consequence of the actions of the Intelligence’s human agent, and a good deal of what goes on in the episode relates to the question of who it could be, with many different things occurring to suggest different characters as likely candidates. Chorley seems most obvious at first, but his absence from the fortress makes it unlikely that he could have stolen the other model Yeti and planted them on prospective victims. To the original audience, the Colonel’s readiness to believe what the Doctor says about the TARDIS might have seemed suspicious: what better way to gain access to the ship than by showing interest in it and offering to collect it? Evans is also singled out, his handing the Doctor the model Yeti from beside Weams’ body prompting accusations, and the disappearance of the fungus sample while he was carrying it further hinting that he might be acting to sabotage the Doctor’s efforts to combat the Intelligence. These efforts seem rather unfocused. After speaking of the need to find the Intelligence’s central control source, the Doctor then gets distracted by the project to gain control of one of the spheres, only to lose interest in that and focus on trying to analyse the fungus. He returns to the sphere control unit when that proves a fruitless line of enquiry, but that’s still not much of a response to the sheer scale of the threat posed by the Intelligence. His progress in this field comes at a cost, though the presence of a model Yeti in Knight’s pocket suggests that the Captain would have been killed even if he hadn’t accompanied the Doctor on the hunt for electrical supplies. It’s strange that the one human survivor of the fighting at Covent Garden should be the man who was unwittingly carrying the model Yeti – why didn’t the robots concentrate their efforts on destroying him rather than the men with him? Knight’s killers ignored the Doctor, so it would have made more sense for the other Yeti to go for the Colonel and pay little attention to the rest of the troops. His condition upon returning to the fortress, demoralised and only just holding things together, is one aspect of the story which actually benefits from the character’s going on to become such a familiar figure: this isn’t any old incidental figure on the verge of losing it, but ‘the Brigadier’, the man who will prove unflappable in the face of so many future alien invasions. And just as we’re getting over the shock of seeing him so defeated, the Yeti come bursting in again, accompanied by the possessed Professor Travers. This is much faster-paced and more epic than the writers’ previous script. Episode 5 At last the Great Intelligence’s purpose is explained, and despite recent efforts by some fans to paint it as an ingenious twist, I have to say that I’m none too impressed. Back in Tibet it had a straightforward plan to give itself a physical form and take over the world. This time round it has a much more elaborate and wide-ranging scheme to achieve a lesser goal: the theft of the Doctor’s mind. All the death and destruction that’s occurred since that first Yeti was reactivated is just collateral damage from a needlessly overcomplicated trap. What makes it all the more preposterous is that the Intelligence had the Doctor trapped back in episode 1, and considering that it was willing to wait for centuries to bring the Tibetan plan to fruition, I don’t see why it didn’t spend a while trying some less convoluted method of getting the Doctor to submit to its demands while he was at its mercy then. It’s possible that the Intelligence is lying (which, as Jamie points out, it has done before), and just wants to get the Doctor out of the way before continuing with its conquest of the Earth, but that’s just conjecture, and the available evidence suggests that this is just a needlessly complex way of getting at the Doctor. The rasping whisper which Jack Watling uses to indicate that the Intelligence is speaking through Travers is unpleasant in a good way, and his slightly halting delivery suggests that the Intelligence is not accustomed to communicating in such a manner. It’s a little odd that nobody picks up on the implications of the Intelligence’s claim to have ‘many other human hands at my command’ and starts to consider the possibility that there might be more than one traitor in their midst. As I recall, there is only the one agent, so it’s possible that the Intelligence is deliberately trying to create disunity among the survivors by stirring up suspicion. Still, while Evans and Jamie do both express distrust of others, all the talk is of a single traitor, so the suggestion that there could be more might just be careless scripting. With Victoria taken hostage again (it’s practically all she’s good for), an explicit time limit is set, conveniently giving the Doctor long enough to make a breakthrough in his efforts to come up with a means of thwarting the Intelligence. Rather unhelpfully, the Intelligence gives no instructions as to how the Doctor is supposed to indicate his willingness to submit – he doesn’t know where it is based, or who is acting as its eyes and ears, so there’s no obvious way for him to give an answer. The existence of a definite deadline means that there’s no longer any need to have the advance of the web signify that time is running out, so the stuff finally reaches the fortress in order to further increase the tension. Evans’ willingness to sacrifice the Doctor if it’ll save his own neck is a very human reaction, but makes him seem all the more contemptible. It’s a pity that we get to see (well, hear) his response to the Colonel’s warning, “Don’t go taking any chances,” as his cowardice has been so clearly established that the joke would work a lot better if it weren’t spelt out so blatantly. This episode does contain the story’s only real clues as to the identity of the traitor (and if you don’t know it and don’t want to be spoilered, don't click(  here. ) Predictably, the Doctor is prepared to give himself up if there’s no other way of saving the others, but that doesn’t stop him continuing to seek an alternative. A little carelessly, he expresses his glee at having got the control sphere working just before it starts to bleep. He seems to work best under pressure, considering that he also manages to complete a device for deactivating Yeti (albeit at very short range) and to reprogramme the sphere to respond to his commands within the time limit set by the Intelligence. Such brilliance is rather undercut by the incompetence he shows when he and Anne head out to use their new inventions on a Yeti: a performance of bumbling can serve no purpose when the only enemy present is a robot, so his misplacing the device and almost getting himself and Anne killed is either genuine bungling or woefully ill-timed. Not that the Intelligence is being particularly clever by doing nothing to ensure that the Yeti recognise the Doctor. If the one near Warren Street had killed him, that would have messed up its controller’s plans no end. Episode 6 This episode raises some questions about the extent of the Intelligence’s connection with its servants, both Yeti and human. All the evidence suggests that it has little idea what is going on with the Yeti, as the controlled one attracts no attention, and there’s no reaction when the Doctor temporarily jams the ones which bring him the mind-draining headgear. Given the apparent lack of any link strong enough that an interruption in it should register, I have to wonder how the Intelligence controls them when not using the models. If you don’t know who the Intelligence’s human agent is and don’t want it given away, don't click(  here ) The headgear he wears in the final confrontation looks pretty absurd, further undermining the menace this walking corpse should have. Evans’ desertion is unsurprising, while the excuses he makes after being reunited with the others really are rather pathetic. Were there really plans to try and bring the character back when the decision was made for Lethbridge-Stewart to return? Short of a radical character change, I can’t see how he could have made any worthwhile contribution to future adventures. Presumably the device that controls the subverted Yeti doesn’t have the limited range that the one which jams them does. The Doctor’s making a joke of the risk Jamie will face when trying to identify the right Yeti is in questionable taste. While Jamie does at least show enough sense to do what he can to see if the approaching Yeti is the one he summoned, he’s still pretty careless to be standing out in the open while waiting for the correct one to arrive. He’s lucky not to get into worse trouble than he does. Not entirely unpredictably, the Intelligence turns out to be deceitful, and while it remains vague about its plans for Earth, it’s evidently not planning on leaving the planet alone once it has the Doctor’s mind. Then again, the Doctor’s being dishonest at the same time, and his deception brings about the failure of his own plan. To be honest, I’m not entirely convinced that Jamie’s unwitting thwarting of the Doctor’s scheme is a bad thing. This Doctor can be very devious and ruthless when it suits him, and draining the Intelligence into his own mind might have tipped his personality even further down the dark path. Considering that Chorley went dashing off to try and escape in the TARDIS three episodes ago, his expressing doubt in its capabilities now seems a bit odd. Not as daft as the Doctor’s worries about the trains starting to run again, though. It’s going to be a while before the population of London gets back from evacuation, and there won’t be any need to have the Tube operational until then. Besides, after all that’s been going on in the tunnels, there’d have to be checks to ensure that the tracks were free of debris and safe to use before the trains could be used on them again. While The Web of Fear gets off to a stronger start than The Abominable Snowman, and makes better use of its setting, its plot doesn’t hold together as well. It’s another important story as regards preparing the way for future developments within the series, and significantly more entertaining than some such tales, but I don’t think it lives up to its reputation. Still, the ‘base under siege’ format isn’t becoming as tiresome as I’d feared that it might, as there is enough variety of locations and characters to keep the stories from getting too samey. Well, there has been so far. Time will tell whether or not the next couple of stories manage to breathe yet more life into the old plot. (Comment on this)
Monday, August 17th, 2009
7:43 pm	Doctor Who Review Archive: The Enemy of the World Episode 1 After two adventures set in snowy conditions (at least in theory), it’s not surprising that the Doctor should be so delighted to find himself on a sunny beach. His antics are a little over-the-top, and Jamie and Victoria’s reaction is more like that of a couple of teenage siblings embarrassed at the way their dad is carrying on than two temporally displaced orphans who’ve been dragged from peril to peril with little opportunity to catch their breath (though Victoria has at least had time to change into a costume with a skirt not much longer than the ones which provoked her outrage back in Britannicus Base). It soon becomes clear that this is going to be no holiday either, with the thugs in the nearby hovercraft taking such unfriendly interest in the Doctor (or so it seems). Their referring to him in their communications with Astrid (and her doing likewise when she reports to Giles) delays the revelation that this is a case of mistaken identity, but in view of the suspicion with which they are regarded by the security forces, there is at least some reason for them to avoid mentioning a name that’s sure to attract unwelcome attention if their communications are being monitored. Considering all the futuristic wonders he’s seen in the course of his travels, Jamie seems needlessly sceptical about the Doctor’s explanation of how a hovercraft works. Victoria is settling into her revised characterisation, though (more’s the pity), immediately fearful of the approaching craft, and threatening to mess up their chance of escape from the gunmen by whining about being too scared to make a dash for the helicopter. There being no way the Doctor’s companions can have encountered helicopters before, his answering Jamie’s question about the vehicle with a string of different nicknames used for them rather than a straightforward explanation seems almost wilfully unhelpful. There’s plenty of thrilling-sounding action in the first half of the episode, and the Bartok used for the incidentals is suitably dramatic. It may well be that, if the episode existed, it would fail to live up to the promise of its soundtrack, but it’d be nice to be able to see it rather than just speculate. Something seems to have put the Doctor into a bad mood with humanity, given his comment that ‘their favourite pastime’ is ‘trying to destroy each other’. Has he forgotten that Jamie and Victoria are human beings as well? As for his protest that, “I’m the nicest possible person,” when told that the men from the hovercraft hate him, there are plenty of intelligent beings who’d disagree with him if they weren’t too dead to express their opinion. Astrid’s impressively honest about the risks inherent in the Doctor’s helping her out. It’s understandable that he should have his suspicions, though his reluctance even to listen (seemingly forgotten after the second attack by the three stooges) is a little out-of-character. Ms Ferrier, for her part, is remarkably quick to trust a stranger, one ‘determined to be mysterious’, as she puts it, who bears such a resemblance to the would-be dictator her boss opposes. She also shows very little surprise that the Doctor appears to know nothing of the prominent figure whose near-double he is. At least Giles brings up the issue of the TARDIS crew’s being so out-of-touch, however briefly. There’s not such a clear-cut distinction between good and bad here as in many stories. Giles’ lack of incriminating evidence against Salamander makes sense, but it’s still a little odd that he shows the Doctor footage of this purported villain which portrays the man in such a positive light, the man behind a device which has averted famine and saved countless lives. Incidentally, the idea of a device which can store and concentrate sunlight, making it possible to have multiple harvests within one season, sounds a little too fantastical, regardless of how far into the future this is supposed to be set. Getting back to the grey morality, while Astrid’s rescue of the Doctor and his friends counts in her favour, the fact that the men from whom she rescued them were loose cannons working for her employer isn’t such a good advertisement for her ‘side’. There’s also the inherently dubious nature of the impersonation they want the Doctor to undertake, however worthy the aims they claim. Add in Kent’s somehow contriving to attract Bruce’s attention, thereby forcing the Doctor to pretend to be Salamander or risk arrest on suspicion of doing what he’s refusing to do, and the fact that Bruce assumes that Giles means to recruit Jamie and Victoria as killers, and it’s far from obvious who, if anyone, is to be trusted in this world. Episode 2 It’s interesting that, despite only having seen Salamander doing publicity for the Suncatcher, and not being convinced of the man’s villainy by Kent’s allegations, the Doctor adopts an arrogant and unpleasant manner when pretending to be the statesman. Bruce’s being taken in by the impersonation is, thus, a hint that there might be something to Giles’ accusations. Nevertheless, indirect confirmation that Salamander can be a bit smug and sneery in his interaction with others isn’t proof of major-league villainy, and the Doctor remains reluctant to interfere. I suspect that he’d have been a good deal keener if Kent had tried suggesting that Salamander was an evil alien monster disguised as a human, though. In any case, he is willing to let his friends get caught up in the conspiracy to try and find proof of Giles’ claims, despite the evident risks. So far there’s been little to indicate that this is a futuristic setting – even Salamander’s technological marvels could just be impressive breakthroughs on his part – but the casual revelation that rockets are an everyday mode of transport (which seems a little impractical, but very Sixties-futuristic) makes it clear that this must be at least the 21st century. Such rapid means of transportation provide an excuse for making this a rather cosmopolitan story, with some of the action shifting from Australia to Central Europe just like that. Another thing that somewhat dates The Enemy of the World’s vision of the future is the size of the communicator Astrid uses. Given the clandestine nature of what she’s doing, it would make more sense for her to have something miniaturised or disguised, and I’m sure that such devices existed at least in concept back then. The mention of sunspots causing interference could be taken as a subtle hint that Salamander’s wondrous device is having some harmful side-effects, but there’s nothing in what I remember of this story to indicate that the dark side of the Suncatcher is a plot element, so this is probably either a coincidence or a red herring. Bruce’s remaining suspicious about having unexpectedly encountered ‘Salamander’ in the presence of his worst enemy shows him to have at least some competence as a security man. His evident dislike of the somewhat creepy Benik could be taken as implying some dissension among Salamander’s cronies, or as an indication that he’s not just a stooge. At last we get to see Salamander in person (well, we would if the episode still existed), and it soon becomes evident that he is not a nice man. Condescension, mockery and impatience are no proof of murderous intent and thirst for world domination, though, and while Fariah’s comments do imply something sinister about him, it’s not until he starts to blackmail Fedorin that he is confirmed to be a bad guy. Until the end of the episode, there’s nothing to suggest that he has a hand in the disaster of which he warned, but his roundabout command that Denes’ be killed proves his ruthlessness. The delight he shows in the volcanic eruptions, proclaiming a catastrophe which must be ruining thousands of lives ‘very pretty’ is further evidence in favour of Kent’s claims. While there is no longer any doubt that Salamander is up to no good, plenty of other characters do questionable things over the course of the episode. Fariah plays a rather cruel prank on Fedorin (though it’s a little odd that she’s employed as a food taster – you’d think that in The Future there’d be some device that could detect poison in food). Astrid is very quick to go for her gun, and only Denes’ quick response keeps her from needlessly killing a guard. Even Jamie’s behaving a little oddly: up until the revelation that he’s ‘saving’ Salamander from a fake murder attempt in order to get into his good books, everything the Scot says and does could easily be mistaken for the words and deeds of a would-be assassin. Why not introduce the ‘I’m here to save your life’ aspect from the outset, rather than run the risk of being gunned down mid-bluff by an overlooked security guard? Episode 3 It’s good that the archives do at least contain one episode of this story, so Patrick Troughton’s performance as Salamader can be seen as well as heard. There’s a lot more to distinguish him from the Doctor than just the accent, but without the visual element, the extent to which he is a completely different character doesn’t come across. This is, regrettably, one of the cheaper episodes, but given that the big-budget sequences were mainly in episode 1, which has hardly any Salamander (and none of him in villainous mode), I’d rather have this episode than the one with the hovercraft chase and exploding helicopter if I absolutely had to choose. Mind you, I’d prefer one in which the Doctor impersonates Salamander even more, just to see if Troughton tried any little tricks to make ‘the Doctor pretending to be Salamander’ that little bit different from the actual Salamander. Being able to watch this episode does highlight a couple of little things. The stock footage of the eruptions is the same material that will be used in the special title sequence for the story Inferno, so nowadays it looks a little as if Kent is watching an episode of Doctor Who from the lead character’s personal future. On a less geeky note, the Doctor’s popping up from the trunk to say he hopes it contains enough air makes him look a little silly when it’s plain to see that there’s a whacking great vent right in front of where his face was when he was hiding inside the thing. There’s some good character material in the episode. Bruce’s instructions regarding the handling of Denes show him to be a decent man (which does make me wonder why Salamander had him appointed rather than a corrupt and easily controllable man – maybe he’s wondering the same thing, given that he makes Bruce responsible for Denes, so any blame for Denes’ death will fall on Bruce rather than on Salamander’s men). Denes proves likeable, making jokes at his own expense, and discreetly distracting the guard to try and preserve Astrid’s cover. I’m not sure why he goes along with the escape plan, though, given his conviction that Salamander’s accusations won’t hold water. Fariah shows a more noble side, attempting to warn Victoria away before she can get caught up in Salamander’s machinations, while Benik demonstrates a cruel streak which reveals him to be more than just a Smithers to Salamander’s Mr Burns. Even Denes’ guard is given a little substance – all right, so a first name and an attempt at chatting Astrid up aren’t much, but they still constitute more of a personality than most such characters have. Then there’s Griffin, the comic relief chef. In outlook he’s The Fast Show’s Unlucky Alf a good couple of decades ahead of time, and his acerbic and pessimistic outbursts do help lighten the tone of the episode. Nevertheless, he’s not so overplayed as to become a caricature, and his exaggerations come across as evidence of a bitter sense of humour rather than suggesting that he’s out of touch with reality. While the plot would progress perfectly well without him, the story is enriched by his presence. I’m not sure whether Kent’s defiance of Benik indicates recklessness or cunning. With a double of Salamander hiding in his caravan, his provoking the petty-minded security man seems an awfully big risk: what if the guard had thrown open the trunk with the intent of vandalising its contents? Then again, given Giles’ relationship with Salamander and his cronies, it’s possible that meek acceptance of Benik’s orders would be so out-of-character as to arouse suspicion, prompting a search and bringing about the discovery of the Doctor anyway. Regardless, Kent gets away with it, but still the Doctor remains unconvinced of Salamander’s evil. He’d never take this much persuading if the villain was non-human. His rueful comments prompted by the broken crockery are nice, though, and would make a good sound bite in a documentary on the missing episodes. The plot to kill Denes is handled a little unevenly. Fedorin would probably be very good at Cluedo (that’s Clue to Americans, and possibly other non-Britons too), considering how quick he is to guess that the box Salamander gives him contains poison. This is, after all, The Future, so there could just as easily be a miniaturised death ray, a small yet immensely powerful explosive device, or any number of other potentially lethal gadgets in there. His palming of the salt is so clumsily done that I’m amazed Victoria is taken in by it. On the more positive side, the subsequent fake-out is expertly done. We see Fedorin alone with the food and getting out the poison, then there’s a dramatic sting as the meal reaches Denes, and a hint of cruel irony in his enthusiastic response to its arrival. The tension is heightened by the red herring of the Guard Captain’s intervention: for a moment it looks as if he might discover that the food has been tampered with, but actually he’s just wary of allowing a prisoner access to a steak knife (which is reasonable enough in itself). Victoria draws the viewers’ attention to just how close the rescue attempt is, raising hopes that Denes might be spared after all, but these are dashed as he starts to tuck in, accompanied by another dramatic sting… and only then comes the revelation that Fedorin didn’t have the nerve to go ahead with the plan. Brilliant. It’s a shame that, after all that, Denes is then bumped off so unimpressively in the bungled escape bid. Frankly, it’s amazing that the rescue plan got as far as it did. While the unexpected nature of Denes’ arrest has made improvisation necessary, the whole scheme should have been better thought-out. Then again, with Astrid a known associate of the infamous Giles Kent, you’d expect her picture to have been circulated among the guards, so it reflects poorly on the security forces that none of them know who she is, and suspicion is only raised when the Guard Captain remembers having seen her on the bench with Jamie. Salamander’s Bond villain-style response to Fedorin’s failure reveals him to be even more ruthless than had previously been indicated. His, “Your health,” as he passes over the poisoned glass is the sort of callous quip that’s almost de rigueur among bad guys, but the way he goes on to make small talk about the provenance of the wine as he waits for the toxin to take effect is not so clichéd, and thus stands out more as an indication of his coldness. By the time Jamie and Victoria are exposed as infiltrators, there can be no doubt of just how dangerous a man he is. Episode 4 Why is it that incomplete sets of telesnaps always seem to be missing the fourth episode? While I’m sure later episodes will provide pictures of the new characters introduced here, the scarcity of visual reference material for this one means there’s no way of knowing if the procedure by which Salamander reaches his (in retrospect inevitable) secret underground base really is as Thunderbirds-esque as the narration makes it sound. Even with Jamie and Victoria held captive, the Doctor is still reluctant even to just impersonate Salamander. While his having surmised that Kent wants the man not just exposed but executed does provide some motivation for his holding back (by now he’s spent half the story waiting for proof!), it is very species-ist of him to show such unwillingness to oppose this villain just because he’s a human. Still, he does at least extend the benefit of the doubt to all humans, as shown by his not caring what Fariah has done that made it possible for Salamander to blackmail her, and the concern he shows when she doesn’t show up again after the escape from Kent’s office. It now transpires that Benik also knows Astrid by sight, which makes it all the more unlikely that she could get away with pretending to be a messenger last episode. His justifying the use of lethal force with the observation that “These people are terrorists,” remains topical despite the passing of the years. The raid on Kent’s office is a bit of a shambles, though, with the guards failing to conceal their presence as they assemble, thereby giving the occupants time to make a break for it. Considering how much of a cliché climbing through ventilation shafts has become, you’d think that Benik would consider the possibility when deploying the guards, but naturally it doesn’t occur to him until too late. Without photos, it’s hard to tell whether or not Astrid’s avoiding detection by hiding under the desk is any less implausible than it sounds. In a bit of a break with cliché, it’s one of the guards who speaks out against blindly following orders, and Bruce’s disapproval of Benik’s having taken the law into his hands is another reminder that, oddly enough, the man Salamander helped become head of World Security has ethics and is not in his pocket. Another Bruce-related oddity is that he appears never to have tried to contact Salamander while he’s ‘in Records’ before. The set-up with the secret base has been running for just under five years, and while it’s never made clear just how long Bruce has been head of security, the impression given is that it’s been a while, so it’s something of a stretch that Salamander’s periodic bouts of being extremely incommunicado have gone unnoticed until now. It’s not clear how much Benik knows about what is going on at such times, though his reaction to finding Fedorin’s file indicates that he is at least aware that Salamander has some dodgy dealings. The revelation that Salamander has a group of people hidden away, artificially inducing ‘natural’ disasters, is given an intriguing twist by their ignorance of the atrocities they are perpetrating. Far from being the usual drones and thugs found in villains’ secret bases, these are dupes, tricked into believing that they’re sheltering from a nuclear war and destroying hostile military targets. They must be a bit naïve not to find it at all suspicious that every one of them who has accompanied Salamander to the surface has died, while the leader manages to make periodic trips up there without coming to any real harm. Colin and Mary’s dialogue is a bit corny, but that could be explained in part by their having been stuck in a fallout shelter since their late teens. This episode has The Enemy of the World’s most conventional cliffhanger yet. Having Bruce unexpectedly walk in on the Doctor, Giles and Astrid is still pretty mild as peril goes, but it’s the closest thing to an actual threat to any of the regulars that’s happened at the end of an episode all story. Episode 5 It’s a little surprising that Bruce should have authorised Benik to plant a tracer on Kent’s trailer, but not unbelievable. Such a conscientious individual isn’t the type to let personal dislikes get in the way of doing his job properly, and enough suspicious things have been going on that keeping a closer eye than usual on Giles and his associates would seem wise. At last the Doctor concedes that there is ‘reasonable doubt’ about Salamander’s motives. While his ethical stance (showing concern over Fariah’s death where Giles and Astrid only seem bothered about the loss of the evidence she was carrying) and demonstration of trust play a big part in persuading Bruce that they should infiltrate the research station, the head of security’s own growing suspicions must also help convince him to take a chance and see if he can find out what’s really going on. Benik really is a nasty piece of work, showing delight at the prospect of having to force answers out of Jamie and Victoria. The limitations of what would have constituted acceptable family viewing back in the late Sixties mean that he doesn’t get much chance to indulge his penchant for cruelty, though. While his mistreating Victoria is an obvious way of getting Jamie to talk, I’m not convinced that a little hair-pulling would be enough to persuade the Scot to reveal all. Then again, as Bruce and ‘Salamander’ turn up just before Jamie begins his confession, there’s no way of knowing how much he was actually prepared to betray. The Doctor’s keeping up the impersonation even after Benik and the guard have gone is a smart move, provoking an authentic reaction from his two friends and adding weight to his own claims. His companions’ initial refusal to believe that he is the Doctor once he drops the pretence is a bit of a stretch, though. Even more implausible is the piece of torn newspaper which arouses Swann’s suspicions. While it’s hard to be certain with only a telesnap to go on, it looks as if the paper is just the right size to show the date and the headline – enough to make it clear that all is not as Salamander has been claiming, but no details, leaving things sufficiently vague for Salamander to improvise an explanation that buys him a little time. It’s a flimsy one, and ethically very dubious, but the highly questionable morality of performing mass euthanasia on the hideously mutated survivors of a nuclear war (could the Daleks have been on Whitaker’s mind when he came up with this hurried lie?) does provide a believable reason for Salamander’s having hidden the truth. It seems rather naïve of Swann to accompany Salamander to the surface alone, especially with the reminder that none of the others who made that trip survived, but people do sometimes choose to cling to the most insubstantial of hopes rather than face up to a harsh reality, and it can’t be easy to accept that he and his friends have been living underground for almost five years, causing massive destruction on the surface, without good reason. My knowledge of the plot influences my reading of some scenes, so I can’t tell if what Kent says about getting into the research centre to help find proof of Salamander’s wrongdoing really is as flimsy as it seems to me. Would the more perceptive members of the original audience have found anything to suspect in there? After all, he’d have no way of knowing for sure that the evidence of which he speaks is still where it was before he was discredited, and the idea that his having an old pass would be enough to get him in is a little unlikely (even given the general ignorance of Astrid’s appearance among the guards). Still, Astrid trusts him, and he makes the situation seem urgent enough that she doesn’t have time to think about these potential loopholes. Her ruse isn’t particularly convincing, but as she only needs to distract the guard for long enough to be able to provide a more effective distraction, it suffices. Then comes another massive contrivance, as her hiding place just happens to be within earshot of the dying Swann, whom Salamander has very carelessly left lying around where any passer-by might find him in time to hear his accusatory last words. Episode 6 Considering the amount of time the Doctor’s spent complaining that he needs proof before he’ll act against Salamander, he suddenly seems very sure of what the man has been up to. Despite his earlier doubts that he could pull off the impersonation, he has little trouble dealing with the problems that arise, neatly getting out of having to provide a signature he’s never seen. Having got Jamie and Victoria into danger by letting Kent use them as investigators, he now takes steps to remove them from the situation, but Bruce’s getting them to call in his deputy means that they do still make a small contribution to Salamander’s defeat. The possibility that Benik suspects the Doctor is raised – his claim that Salamander always said the hover-truck passes ‘had priority over everything’ could easily be a lie designed to catch out an imposter, Bruce voices concerns that he might have been eavesdropping, and Benik’s put-down to the guard confused over Salamander’s seeming to be in two places at once implies that he’s figured it out – but nothing ever comes of it, which is a little disappointing. Some of the audience might also feel let down when he surrenders as soon as Bruce’s reinforcements arrive, as his type more commonly gets a suitably unpleasant comeuppance, but such cowardice is in keeping with the sort of man who throws his weight around as long as he has thugs with him to back him up. Astrid’s encounter with Swann and the rest of Salamander’s dupes helps highlight her good qualities, helping to keep the audience’s sympathies with her following the revelation that she’s been unwittingly working for a villain herself. She shows compassion to a dying stranger (and the moan he lets out upon discovering the extent to which he and his friends have been deceived is chilling, far more effective than any melodramatic “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” could ever be), strives to keep a promise to which she will never be held, and seeks to help Swann’s associates even after they attack her. Given what they’ve been led to believe about the surface, their fearful and hostile reaction is plausible, but her forgiving them still takes strength of character. Her use of a ruler from inside the base to prove that the decontamination process is a fake proves that she’s smart, too (and the suppressed rage in Colin’s voice when he realises the truth suggests that, had Salamander not met the fate he does, he would still have wound up dying very nastily – frankly, it’s surprising that he doesn’t attack the Doctor on sight). How did the Doctor get into the Records Room? I can understand Whitaker’s choosing not to show him entering it, so the audience can be just as surprised as Kent when ‘Salamander’ reveals who he really is, but the lack of any explanation as to how the Doctor got past a door which defeats everyone else’s efforts to open it without the proper key is frustrating. It’s only a couple of stories before the introduction of the Sonic Screwdriver, so a fan could assume that the Doctor already has it at this stage, and just hasn’t shown it to his companions yet, but the original viewers wouldn’t have been able to rationalise away the problem like that, so this is something of a plot hole. As is the question of what Salamander has actually been doing since he killed Swann. He doesn’t follow Jamie and Victoria to the TARDIS until after the explosion, so what kept him so conveniently away from the action for so long? It’s quite a twist that Giles turns out to have been involved with Salamander’s plot from the outset, thrown out when he was no longer needed, opposing him not for the sake of humanity but out of a desire for revenge, and in the hope of taking over from him as dictator. The Doctor’s concerns about Kent’s eagerness to resort to murder provide a little justification for his having taken so long to agree to help him, but unless he’s been extrapolating from the behaviour of the thugs back in episode 1, he had his doubts even before he saw any sign of Giles’ willingness to cause unnecessary death. The quasi-obligatory self-destruct device for the secret base is a bit rubbish, really. The massive explosion doesn’t seem to kill anyone (except maybe Kent, who was dying anyway), but it does rather helpfully open the Records Room door. While the deaths of everyone who remained in the shelter would have made for an overly downbeat ending, it is a bit absurd that blowing the place up does so little damage. Salamander’s attempt at impersonating the Doctor is pretty hopeless, and it’s surprising that Jamie is taken in at all. The Doctor’s intentions regarding the villain are quite nasty in their own way: while he is only going to leave the man to face retribution from those he has wronged, there is little likelihood of Salamander’s getting a fair trial, so putting him outside with ‘no friends, no safety, nothing’ is equivalent to sentencing him to death. The issue is sidestepped by having Salamander attack the Doctor and inadvertently cause the TARDIS to dematerialise with the doors still open, bringing about his own death and leaving the time travellers in more danger than they have been at the end of an episode all story. It’s an effective way of keeping the Doctor’s hands clean, but the fact remains that he was prepared to abandon him to the kind of ‘private justice’ of which he was so disdainful a couple of episodes back. All in all, The Enemy of the World is something of an oddity. While it is interesting to have a change from alien monsters, this Doctor now seems uncomfortable in a situation where all the villains are human, and consequently spends much of the story dithering. Nevertheless, such a radical departure from the formula into which the series has been settling is a worthy effort, and despite the odd loophole and illogicality, it’s entertaining, and gives Patrick Troughton a good opportunity to demonstrate his versatility as an actor. (Comment on this)