The Hand of Fear

Dear Gary—

“Eldrad must live.” For better or worse, Sarah Jane Smith will always be known for these words.

Eldrad, the hand of fear. Eldrad, the she that is a he. Eldrad. Eldrad must live.

I can’t talk about The Hand of Fear, Gary, without talking about Eldrad. Eldrad is obliterated to begin our story. Obliterated. But Eldrad must live; and Eldrad does live. For 150 million years Eldrad’s hand survives, fossilized, buried deep in the Earth, until Sarah finds it in a quarry. Eldrad and his/her ring bearing her/his genetic code. Eldrad.

Eldrad undergoes several transformations in The Hand of Fear, beginning as a fossilized, four fingered hand but quickly re-growing its fifth finger and gaining flexibility it becomes a crawling hand straight out of horror films. Next Eldrad grows a body—the body of Judith Paris in a form fitting, crystal encrusted costume to dazzle the eyes. But Eldrad is not done. Eldrad must not only live, Eldrad must regenerate.

“Why is she a he?” Good question. The seemingly crushed Eldrad emerges from the regeneration chamber in the body of Stephen Thorne.

Eldrad must live. For 150 million years the obliterated Eldrad survived and was reformed. After 150 million years “Eldrad lives and shall again rule Kastria;” but “Hail Eldrad. King . . . of nothing.” The Doctor has refused to break the laws of time for Eldrad and will only return him/her to Kastria in present time, to a Kastria that has been dead for 150 million years. Kastria did not have the same imperative to live.

And so Eldrad, Eldrad who has survived obliteration, Eldrad who has lived 150 million years, Eldrad who has escaped deadly traps laid out for him/her on Kastria, Eldrad who re-grows from a hand, Eldrad who cheats death with regeneration, Eldrad is tripped up by the Doctor’s scarf and falls into an abyss and we are to believe he/she is dead? And the Doctor throws Eldrad’s ring down after the body, Eldrad’s ring containing Eldrad’s genetic code? Eldrad must live.

Like Eldrad, The Hand of Fear undergoes several location and casting transformations of its own. The story begins in a quarry and then hospital where we meet Dr. Carter. It next moves to a nuclear power station where we meet Professor Watson. Finally it arrives on Kastria where we meet King Rokon. Each section is unique and compelling in its own right.

“This isn’t South Croydon.” No, the Doctor and Sarah have landed in a quarry right at the moment of a planned detonation. However the two remain inexplicably unaware of the imminent danger; as alarm bells blare and strangers wave them off, the Doctor rather nonchalantly practices his cricket throws. It’s an effective scene, despite their uncharacteristic thick-headedness. The relaxed companionability of the Doctor and Sarah juxtaposed against the hard rock quarry and the audience’s sense of impending doom. The resulting explosion, the Doctor’s frantic search through the rubble, and Sarah’s reaching out to grasp the stone cold hand of Eldrad are all heart racing.

An unconscious Sarah is taken to the local hospital where the Doctor, with the aid of Dr. Carter, begins his Sherlock Holmes phase of investigation into the mysterious hand. Determining it to be a silicon based survivor of an explosion from millions of miles away and millions of years ago, he finds it intriguing. Sarah, meanwhile, finds it (or rather its ring) mesmerizing. Under the hypnotic influence of the ring, Sarah steals the hand and makes for the nearest nuclear power plant.

Now begins our ‘China Syndrome’ phase of the story. It is unnerving to see a glassy-eyed Sarah making her way through the plant, zapping workers who get in her way, and then settling herself down with the crawling hand in the reactor, again juxtaposed with the brightly colored ‘Andy Pandy’ jumpsuit she is wearing. More warning sirens blare as the plant braces for a meltdown.

“I want this damn racket stopped!” The director of the plant, Professor Watson, establishes himself as the nerves of steel, no-nonsense authority that the Doctor can turn to in this crisis, at least for the moment. There are two separate emergencies during our time at the nuclear station, and Professor Watson stands up well throughout. And I like how these early Whos take the time for quiet little scenes like that of the director phoning home as the plant has been evacuated and he remains in what could very well be his last moment, giving his love to his family. Another unnecessary bit to our plot, but necessary nonetheless.

Too bad that Watson takes leave of his senses later on, running around madly with a hand gun and actually thinking that mere bullets can stop Eldrad when the absorption of massive radiation and nuclear missiles have failed.

“Listen, you owe your regeneration to this man—remember that,” the Doctor admonishes Eldrad as Eldrad holds Watson in a deadly gaze. Despite Watson’s mental lapse, his character continues to be treated with dignity. (Speaking of mental lapses—ordering a bombing raid on a nuclear power plant?!)

Explosions, radiation, bombs, bullets—“I think we should try much older weapons,” says the Doctor.  “Speech, diplomacy . . . . Conversation.” Communication. “How? With hand signals?” The Doctor gives Eldrad the benefit of the doubt; Sarah, no longer under the ring’s influence, remains skeptical.

“Why must he help you? You’re destructive,” Sarah exclaims to the reconstituted Eldrad. But the Doctor is reminded of an old Time Lord pledge “to uphold the laws of time and prevent alien aggression.”  However, “only when such aggression is deemed to threaten the indigenous population. I think that’s how it goes,” the Doctor adds.

Just an aside here, Gary. Upholding the laws of time, yes. I can see that. But preventing alien aggression, even if threatening the indigenous population? No. I can’t see that. Not with the do-nothing Time Lords. The Doctor, yes. The Time Lords, no. Perhaps long ago, before the standoffish nature of the Time Lords became the rule. But not now. Not in the Doctor’s lifetime. That is the reason he left Gallifrey in the first place.

But back to our story and on to Kastria. Kastria is the weakest link in our story. I find it hard to believe that the Doctor is so hoodwinked by Eldrad. Especially after the destructive events on Earth, as Sarah has pointed out. Especially after Eldrad attempts to turn on them in the TARDIS, only to learn that weapons won’t work in the TARDIS: “In a sense, you see, we don’t exist while we’re in here, so you can’t hurt us and we can’t hurt you.” Especially after Eldrad’s own people have gone to such lengths as to lay traps against Eldrad’s improbable return. Although I guess I can buy the Doctor’s argument that he is simply getting Eldrad away from Earth, and at least he is taking Eldrad back to present Kastria and not turning back time 150 million years as Eldrad had requested.

I rather enjoy Stephen Thorne’s raging lunatic take on Eldrad, though, upon emerging from the regeneration chamber. But really, were the Kastrian’s so useless that they couldn’t figure out how to repair the solar barriers? And were they really so desperate as to commit mass suicide rather than to risk the most unlikely return of Eldrad? They obviously had the technology for space travel as evidenced by the obliteration pod they sent Eldrad off in. Could they not travel out into the universe if they couldn’t repair the barriers or face life underground on their own planet? They clearly had the means to create deadly traps to waylay Eldrad upon his doubtful return, couldn’t they lay the same traps without having to commit self-genocide? Surely they could prepare themselves to defeat Eldrad if he ever were to return; they had imprisoned and executed him once before after all. And that last ‘gotcha’ hologram from Rokon—really? They would rather face extinction so they could send a posthumous raspberry to Eldrad just in case he/she beat all the odds and came back? Why would Eldrad want to rule such a pathetic people?

And then the anti-climatic trip down the abyss. “The gravity of the law finally caught up with him.” I don’t know. Eldrad must live.

“Eldrad must live.” Words, for better or worse, that Sarah Jane Smith will always be known by.

Sarah Jane Smith. I cannot talk about The Hand of Fear, Gary, without talking about Sarah Jane Smith.

There is a telling little moment near the beginning as the Doctor rushes back and forth between the quarry and the pathology lab, when he stops and affectionately adjusts the Do Not Disturb sign on Sarah’s hospital room door. It is one of those quiet little pools of calm that characterizes the Doctor’s and Sarah’s relationship.

“I worry about you,” Sarah tells the Doctor as she sneaks back into the power plant when he goes to confront Eldrad.

“Yes but . . . I worry about you,” the Doctor replies.

There is a warmth between the Doctor and Sarah Jane that shines through in every serial they appear in together.

The Doctor has said goodbye to many companions up to this point. His departure from Susan, Ian and Barbara, and Jo Grant are among the most memorable. His parting from Sarah Jane is as heartfelt as any.

“I’m going to pack my goodies and I’m going home.” We know, of course, that Sarah Jane doesn’t mean it. The Doctor is ignoring her as he works on the TARDIS, asking for the astro-rectifier, multi-quantiscope, mergin nut, ganymede driver, zeus plug, and sonic screwdriver. Sarah goes along, handing him what he asks for as she complains, “I’m sick of being cold and wet, and hypnotized left right and center. I’m sick of being shot at, savaged by bug-eyed monsters, never knowing if I’m coming or going . . . or been.” We know that she is sick of it all, we know that she just wants “to feel human again,” but we also know that she really doesn’t mean it. All she really wants is the Doctor’s attention. When Victoria left she voiced similar complaints, but we knew that she meant it. Not Sarah.

The Doctor has his childish snits, and so too does Sarah. “I’m going to pack my goodies and I’m going home.” To show him she’s not fooling she does pack her goodies. But she is fooling. She only wants him to notice.

“How did you know?”

“Look, I was only joking. I didn’t mean it.”

Yes, we know. She didn’t mean it. She was only joking.

“Oh, come on. I can’t miss Gallifrey.”

Gallifrey. The call from the Time Lords. “I can’t take Sarah to Gallifrey.”

Those do-nothing Time Lords. Those meddlesome Time Lords.

“You’re a good girl, Sarah.”

So much said, and yet so little said.

“Don’t forget me.”

“Oh, Sarah. Don’t you forget me.”

 “This isn’t Hilview Road. I bet it isn’t even South Croyden. Oh, he blew it.”

No, still not South Croyden. Not even a quarry full of danger.

Freeze frame on Sarah. Freeze frame on Sarah looking up to the stars, looking up to her Doctor.

Don’t forget me . . .