Horror of Fang Rock

Dear Gary—

Horror of Fang Rock—I rather like this little story. After the big scale, richly layered Talons of Weng-Chiang, it is nice to have it followed up by a tight, four part script. It is not just the plot that is compact; the set is confined as well, taking place almost wholly within a lighthouse.

“You said I would like Brighton,” Leela says as she emerges from the TARDIS on a dark and foggy shore. “Well, I do not.”

I feel rather sorry for the Doctor’s companions. He is always promising them a little pleasure trip, some rest and relaxation, a bit of sun and beach. The adventures are exciting and all, but a little diversion at Brighton once in a while is well deserved. Alas, it never seems to be.

“Does this look like Brighton?”

Leela, of course, has never been to Brighton. “The machine has failed again?”

The Doctor forever has to come to the defense of the TARDIS: “Because the localized condition of planetary atmospheric condensation caused a malfunction in the visual orientation circuits. Or to put it another way, we got lost in the fog.”

And as usual, Brighton is put off while the Doctor investigates the curiosity of a lighthouse without a light. I feel so sorry for his companions.

There is a mystery lurking in that lighthouse. Mystery and death. It is ripe for an Agatha Christie murder plot, or a Dracula-like horror tale. A lonely lighthouse on a foggy night isolated and shrouded in supernatural lore. A dead body found by the generator. A load of shipwrecked passengers stranded and seething with their own internal intrigues.

But this gothic horror mystery setting is only atmosphere.

Palmerdale: “Are you in charge here?”

Doctor: “No, but I’m full of ideas.”

The Doctor and Leela have inserted themselves into this gothic horror mystery setting. They see beyond the gothic horror mystery setting. The inhabitants, however, are enmeshed in the gothic horror mystery setting.

Reuben with his warnings of mythical beasts and the impressionable Vince. “He won’t rest easy,” Reuben says of the dead Ben. “There’ll be anger in his soul. And when they die like that, they’ll never rest easy.”

“The dead do not walk,” Leela assures the frightened Vince. “That is not possible.”

The Doctor and Leela do not succumb to the macabre sensibility of the lighthouse. “Curiouser and curiouser,” perhaps, but not supernatural.

“I used to believe in magic,” Leela tells an astrology minded Adelaide, “but the Doctor has taught me about science. It is better to believe in science.”

But there is something about gothic horror mystery that speaks to the human soul. That is why it is so effective. We, the audience, feel the suspense along with the lighthouse crew and the shipwrecked passengers. Our intellect knows, along with the outsiders Doctor and Leela, that there are no ghosts and no ancient beasts walking the foggy shore of Fang Rock, but our gut reacts just the same with the horror of walking dead and ancient lore.

The fog, the forlorn sound of the foghorn, the lights going on and off, the dead bodies piling up, the sudden cold coming on, all contribute to the sense of foreboding.

Reuben: “There’s always death on this rock when the beast’s about.”

Reuben is the voice of the past, the voice of superstition and tradition. “The last time they found two of the keepers dead and t’other mad with fear.” His warnings echo in the other’s ears, chilling the blood in their veins.

Palmerdale: “Preposterous rubbish. What is the fool saying?”

Palmerdale is the owner of the shipwrecked yacht. Selfish and greedy, anxious to get to London, no time for foolishness. Palmerdale sees nothing but himself. He cares nothing for dead bodies. He cares nothing for mystery. He cares nothing for superstition.

Reuben: “I’m saying it’s happened before, it’ll happen again.”

Reuben, keeper of the lighthouse, persists.

Palmerdale: “Superstitious idiot. If we’re expected to take notice of some fisherman’s tale . . .”

Palmerdale is the villain without being a villain. He is the one least likely to be liked. Stranded in a lonely lighthouse of death, he has no patience or sympathy, and has not our patience or sympathy.

Leela: “Silence! You will do as the Doctor instructs, or I will cut out your heart.”

Leela cuts through the rubbish, the superstition, and the callousness. Leela cuts to the heart.

And that slap! I do believe that Leela slapping the hysterically screaming Adelaide, the self absorbed, shrilly annoying Adelaide, is one of my favorite moments in Doctor Who.

Leela has no patience, but she has our sympathy.

“We must forget him now; it is time for us to fight.” Leela, the savage, the huntress, is nearer the Doctor than he thinks. The Doctor, too, showed his alien nature in his seemingly unfeeling reaction to Scarman’s death in The Pyramids of Mars. Leela is not alien, Leela is human, but she is a human from another time, another place. Leela, like the Doctor, sees the bigger picture. There will be a time for mourning (and being human, I cannot help but mourn for the loss of Vince), but now is not that time.

“Don’t fire until you see the green of its tentacles.” Now is the time to fight.

“Leela, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I thought I’d locked the enemy out. Instead I’ve locked it in with us.”

Reuben the Rutan. Reuben, keeper of the lighthouse, superstitious, old-fashioned Reuben. Impersonated by a Rutan. The Rutans being the age-old enemy of the Sontarans. Who knew they were nothing more than a green jelly fish? Green jelly fish with the ability to shape shift.

Leela: “They are hard to kill, these Rutans.”

Doctor: “Been celebrating, have you?”

Leela: “It is fitting to celebrate the death of an enemy.”

Doctor: “Not in my opinion. I haven’t got time to discuss morality.”

The Doctor and Leela are not too far apart, but there is a gap still, and there is much yet for Leela to learn.

Seven people dead. Three lighthouse crew and four off the yacht. All dead. Everybody dies, Leela, everybody dies. The Doctor and Leela, only, walk away from the lighthouse.

The eerie, mysterious lighthouse. The Horror of Fang Rock. Everybody dies.

“Aye, though we hunted high and low, and hunted everywhere, of the three men’s fate we found no trace . . .”

Eerie, mysterious lighthouse. Everybody dead.

 “. . . In any time, in any place. But a door ajar and an untouched meal and an over-toppled chair . . .”

The Doctor and Leela leave this mystery behind, and Brighton, I’m afraid, is long forgotten. But then I think, Gary, that Leela is more the type to confront Reuben the Rutan than she is to bat around a beach ball.

Yes, I rather like this compact little tale. And so I send this out, Gary, and hope it finds you, “. . . In any time, in any place . . .”