Tuesday, January 29, 2013

The Brain of Morbius

Dear Gary—
The Brain of Morbius is a Doctor Who story I have known and loved for many years. It, along with Pyramids of Mars, was the first and only of my collection for the longest time. I can’t believe that I never once noticed that the copy I own is a heavily edited version. It was not until this last viewing that I began to think that there seemed to be scenes missing; the action seemed to jump forward with some important events glossed over; and it seemed awfully short at under an hour. Something was wrong, I thought. Sure enough, I looked it up on line and discovered that it had been released in abridged form. It’s time I upgrade my collection from mostly VHS to DVD.
While waiting for the DVD to arrive, I have in the meantime found a complete copy that a friend made for us so I can now write more knowledgably about one of the all-time great stories of Doctor Who, The Brain of Morbius, a wonderfully atmospheric retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.
I love how the story begins, as many stories have of late, with a delightful exchange between the Doctor and Sarah. The Doctor tears out of the TARDIS raging at the dark and stormy sky, positive that the Time Lords have once again waylaid him for their own purpose. “I don’t know and I don’t really care,” he tells Sarah when she asks where they are. “Ah, come on  . . . come on, stop being so childish,” Sarah chides while the Doctor practices double loops with his yoyo. “I’m just going to sit here and do nothing,” the Doctor sulks. “So there,” Sarah punctuates as she goes off to explore.
Even Sarah’s discovery of a graveyard of crashed ships doesn’t pull the Doctor out of his churlish mood. When Sarah screams, however, the Doctor is immediately at her side. The sight of a headless Mutt (a nice nod to The Mutants from the third Doctor’s run) peaks his interest; the grim fact that the decapitation occurred after the crash is worthy of investigation. The Doctor is now fully committed.
“I was born in these parts,” the Doctor tells Sarah as he begins to take a look around. “I thought I recognized the stars.” A fabulous detail, the Doctor, gentleman of the universe, time and space hobo, traveler to distant galaxies and alternate realities, the Doctor stands looking up at the stars and senses home, even within a couple of billion miles (unforgivably one of the parts cut out of my 59 minute long VHS copy).
The Brain of Morbius gives us several glimpses into Time Lord History parceled liberally throughout our story. The Time Lord Council was once ruled by Morbius who tried to steer the Time Lords down a path of death and destruction. Morbius was placed on trial for rebellion, a trial that attracted the attention of galaxies far and wide (I’m picturing a carnival atmosphere similar to the Scopes Monkey Trial), and condemned to death in a dispersal chamber. The Sisterhood of Karn, longtime opponents of Morbius, serves as guardian of the Elixir of Life, an elixir they share with the Time Lords.
All of this serves as a backdrop to our Frankenstein story.  Dr. Frankenstein and Igor are represented by Solon and Condo respectively. Their monster is Morbius, or more accurately, the brain of Morbius that Solon has been keeping alive, and the body he has pieced together from the casualties of the numerous shipwrecks on Karn. All Solon needs to complete his monster is a head. In walks the Doctor.
“Oh, what a magnificent head,” Solon exclaims upon first sight of the Doctor. “Superb head,” he adds for emphasis.
“Well, I’m glad you like it. I have had several. I used to have an old grey model before this. Some people liked it,” the Doctor replies.
“I did,” Sarah adds in a marvelous reference to her time with the third Doctor.
“I said, some people liked it,” the Doctor continues, “but I prefer this model.”
(So do I, Doctor; so do I.)
Philip Madoc as the mad scientist Solon is worthy of note; he plays the part to perfection. He can put on the face of suave and genial host or deferential supplicant when needed, but we can always see behind the mask his single-minded purpose, and he throws off the façade quickly, as impatient to get on with his work as he is with Condo, or as Solon calls him, “you chicken brained biological disaster.” With simple lines, like “That is an insect!” as he examines the Mutt head Condo brings him, or “Mind his head!” as Condo carries the unconscious Doctor, Phillip Madoc tells us volumes about Solon’s character.
And Solon is no blindly fanatical follower of Morbius. As Morbius himself points out, “You desire to be known as the creator of Morbius rather than his servant.”
This brings us to Morbius. As we learn over the course of the story, Morbius was an evil and dangerous Time Lord, gathering up a following of mercenaries and destroying countless planets. Long believed dead, Solon has kept Morbius’ brain alive, apparently a plan hatched between the two evil geniuses to trick the Time Lords. However Solon has been taking too long with his experiments and Morbius grows restless.
“Yet I am still here,” Morbius’ brain laments. “I can see nothing, feel nothing. You have locked me into hell for eternity. If this is all there is for me, I would sooner die now.” And later, “Trapped like this, like a sponge beneath the sea. Yet even a sponge has more life than I. Can you understand a thousandth of my agony? I, Morbius, who once led the High Council of the Time Lords and dreamed the greatest dreams in history, now reduced to this, to a condition where I envy a vegetable.”
“Events have moved along while I’ve been sleeping . . .”
Events have moved along. The Sisterhood, fearful that the Doctor has come to steal the last remaining Elixir from them, has stolen away his unconscious body form Solon’s laboratory and plans his execution; Solon pleads first for the Doctor’s life and then simply for his head; Sarah frees the Doctor, being blinded in the process by a ray from Sister Maren’s ring; the Doctor fixes the Eternal Flame for the Sisterhood so that there will be Elixir once more; Condo dumps Morbius’ brain on the floor; Solon shoots Condo (who has turned on his master when he finds his arm that Solon has been holding hostage has been stitched onto the monster’s body); Solon uses a blind Sarah to complete the operation to transfer Morbius’ brain into a manufactured brain case and onto the monster’s body; Sarah recovers her eyesight just in time to see Monster Morbius; Monster Morbius kills Solon.
Sorry for the abridgment, Gary, but events do move quickly along in The Brain of Morbius, and all are entertaining and worth mentioning. I hate to leave anything out. Now that I have given a brief overview, let me turn to some deeper observations.
First, the Sisterhood. This is a fascinating concept, a sort of female yin to the Time Lord yang. They are rather pathetic upon close examination, holed up on a desolate planet, guarding a dying flame, chanting incessantly, drinking an elixir to give them perpetual life, but a life not even a vegetable would envy to paraphrase Morbius, and now that elixir is drying up—drying up like Maren their leader. And yet I can imagine them once upon a time being a vital and living force. Perhaps now that the Doctor has replenished their flame and Maren is dead they will become revitalized under Ohica’s leadership.
Next, Sarah. I remember, Gary, how impressed I was with the character of Sarah Jane Smith when she first appeared in The Time Warrior, and feeling a bit disappointed that the promise of the character was never fully realized as the series progressed. I was wrong. Sarah does have her occasional twisted ankle, kidnapping, and screaming spell, but overall Sarah Jane Smith is one of the strongest companions the Doctor ever has had or ever will have, male or female. I would rank her right up there with Ian and Barbara. It is not just the camaraderie and the ability to cajole the Doctor out of moods. All, or most all, companions have such qualities. Sarah has that added resourcefulness, bravery, and intelligence that renders her invaluable to the Doctor. And as often as she is rescued, she does her share of rescuing as well.
The Brain of Morbius showcases all of these qualities in Sarah. I will single out her blindness. Sarah’s blindness does not leave her helpless. She might stumble over things, but when she hears a mysterious voice in the cavernous depths of the castle she goes to investigate, and when she hears Solon plot against the Doctor she locks him in his lab and faces the treacherous journey to find the Doctor. Even Solon recognizes her value, blind and all, and has her assist him in his operation. And through it all she maintains her sense of humor.
No wonder Condo has a crush on her. And this brings me to Condo. The Hunchback of Karn. Condo believes Solon will restore his arm to him if he only plays Igor to Solon’s Frankenstein. Condo does his dim-witted best to assist Solon, despite Solon’s obvious contempt. But Condo doesn’t want to hurt the girl—she’s pretty. And when Condo discovers his long lost arm attached to the monstrosity on the bed he has had enough. Poor Condo, shot in the belly, but even still as he lies bleeding the screams of Sarah rouse him and he manages one last and noble act before dying.
Of course, I can’t talk about The Brain of Morbius without talking about Morbius. No longer just a brain. He has been given a body stitched from the broken remains of corpses littering the surface of Karn. No longer trapped like a sponge. No longer envious of a vegetable. He has been given a body. But what a body!? His first glimpse of himself in the mirror is priceless, but he soon gets over it. He is free at last and ready to resume his tyranny of time and space.
Good thing the Doctor has kept his head.
“What does it feel like to be the biggest mongrel in the universe?” the Doctor asks. “To be free again is all that matters," Morbius concludes, but the Doctor and Sarah continue to mock. “Potpourri would be appropriate,” the Doctor offers as a new name for Morbius, but Sarah comes up with the clincher: “How about Chop Suey?”
“Chop Suey, the galactic emperor.”
Sticks and stones . . . “You will be the first to die!”
The Doctor, knowing the brain in the manufactured case after a hurried operation is liable to be unstable, challenges Morbius to a sort of “Time Lord wrestling” or mind bending as it is called, despite Morbius being a Time Lord of the first rank and the Doctor being “a mere nobody.”
I find the contraption they use for their mind bending a curious thing. What is it and what is it doing in Solon’s laboratory? Is it specifically designed for Time Lord mind bending? Or do they just happen to use it for this purpose? Whatever the case, it comes in handy. But I find the contest itself to be a bit anti-climatic. For the destruction it causes (Morbius’ brain fairly explodes and the Doctor nearly dies), it doesn’t take much time and they don’t really seem to be expending much energy. Morbius gloats through the entire process, despite his losing, and visions of past generations appear in the middle. I have to speculate that the majority of the generations depicted are those of Morbius as the Doctor only has the three previous that we know of. At any rate, the mind-blown Morbius wanders off to be chased by the Sisterhood (under the direction of Ohica) over the edge of a cliff and to his ignoble death.
“Death is the price we pay for progress,” the Doctor has advised the Sisterhood, and taking this advice to heart Maren sacrifices herself, giving up the few remaining drops of Elixir to the Doctor in order to save his life. The time for the Doctor’s death has not yet arrived (he is only 749 after all . . .).
“Death is the price we pay for progress.” It is a sad and hard truth, Gary. Death is the price we pay . . . .

Friday, January 25, 2013

The Android Invasion

Dear Gary—
The Android Invasion is really quite good despite itself. It is one of those rare Tom Baker stories that I was fairly unfamiliar with going in; I had only seen it once, maybe twice before, and I could not remember much about it so it was almost as if I was watching it for the first time.
The plot itself has so many holes in it that it is laughable, but it is enjoyable to watch. The Doctor and Sarah alone are worth watching, and The Android Invasion has lots of the Doctor and Sarah. In fact, this story is unusual in that there are no other characters helping the two for the better part of it; for a good three quarters of the show all of the supporting cast members are antagonists.
I like the feel of the story from the start. The TARDIS materializes in what appears to be a typical English countryside and the Doctor alone emerges.
“Well, come on, make your mind up. Has the TARDIS brought us home or not?” Like any good companion, Sarah is skeptical, and I find it a nice touch that she remains in the TARDIS; only her voice is heard as the two carry on their conversation.
“Possibly,” the Doctor says, skeptical himself.
“What do you mean possibly?” A companion is supposed to be skeptical, but the Doctor?
“Well, the coordinates were set for your time but the linear calculator, well . . . . Ginger pop?” The Doctor replies as he offers Sarah a drink when she finally comes out to take a look for herself.
I like this little scene because it sets up two very important elements of the story, the relationship between the Doctor and Sarah and a sense of mystery.
Tom Baker is not only the most alien of Doctors he is also the most detective-like, and The Android Invasion, at least the first half of it, is a mystery waiting to be solved.
Their surroundings have the look and smell of Earth down to the oak trees (which don’t grow anywhere else in the galaxy). However there are some peculiar things going on such as the UNIT soldier stumbling out of the woods and falling off a cliff to his death only to show up later in the village alive and well (“I’m sure you shouldn’t be drinking so soon after breaking your neck”). All the money in the village is freshly minted coins from the same year, none of the telephones work (“I always told Alexander Bell that wires were unreliable”) and the calendar on the wall has only one day listed over and over.
The Doctor knows something is up the moment he sees a strange pod that he can’t quite place. “My memory is getting terrible,” he says. “You know, three hundred years ago I’d have recognized this like a shot.” When he and Sarah come upon a deserted village only to have it suddenly repopulated when a truckload of vacant eyed villagers pulls up, the Doctor’s curiosity is deepened.
The Doctor’s detection leads him to a space station and UNIT, however it is as deserted as the village was at first, that is until a one-eyed Crayford shows up. Crayford is later described as a “puny minded weakling” and I have to agree, especially about the puny mind. How can anyone go for years wearing an eye patch without once taking it off to realize that, oh, there really is an eye under there? I mean, the Doctor can tell there is a healthy eye under there just by looking at him. Even if he was brain washed, this is one of the most glaringly obvious plot holes of the story and rather unforgiveable.
Of course, the whole plot does rather fall apart once the Doctor gets to the bottom of things. What he learns is that this is not Earth but a perfect replica of an Earth village and the villagers are all android copies, all of whom were duplicated from the memories of Crayford, an astronaut who was lost and believed dead but who was actually captured (he thinks rescued) by a group of Kraals. The Kraals are using the phony village as a training ground for their androids after which they are transporting the androids to earth to release a virus that will wipe out the entire human race leaving the planet empty awaiting the Kraal invasion fleet.
I’m not even going to comment further on this rather lazy plot of convenience (“The best laid schemes of mice and Kraals gang aft agley”). It is somewhat disappointing, rather just an excuse to give the Doctor and Sarah something to do, but as an excuse I’ll take it.
The Kraals are effective enough Doctor Who monsters, and I always like bickering aliens so when Styggron and Chedaki go at it I am amused. The android villagers are rather creepy and android Sarah is quite good, but not good enough to fool the Doctor. Their relationship is too close for the Doctor to be fooled by a fake Sarah. The Doctor fighting his android self is another nice touch. Android Benton and Android Harry, however, are a bit disappointing and it is an even bigger disappointment when we get very little of the real thing for either of these characters when the action shifts to Earth. Especially knowing that this is the last serial for the two. And no Brigadier? Who is this Faraday character?
But the Doctor and Sarah save the day.
Doctor: “Once upon a time there were three sisters, and they lived in the bottom of a treacle well. Their names were Olga, Marsha, and Irena. Are you listening, Tillie?”
Sarah: “I’m Sarah. Sarah!”
Doctor: “I feel disoriented.”
Sarah: “This is the disorientation center.”
Doctor: “That makes sense.”
Yes, I will take an excuse of a plot just to have more of these two.
It’s not always the dialogue, either. It’s the looks, the tones of voice, the gestures. Everything sets these two apart as a classic Doctor Who pairing. I even like the small detail when they first arrive at the village (“Let’s try the pub”) and Sarah has to repeat the name of the pub when the Doctor enquires. “Fleur-De-Lys,” Sarah emphasizes as she says it a second time. The smallest of unnecessary bits that rounds out their relationship.
The camaraderie, the banter, and the trust. Despite the skepticism, every good companion also has complete faith in the Doctor.
Sarah: “So, providing we don’t burn up on re-entry, and aren’t suffocated on the way down, we’ll probably be smashed to a pulp when we land.”
Doctor: “Exactly. Sarah, you’ve put your finger on the one tiny flaw in our plan.”
Sarah: “Our plan? It’s your plan.”
Doctor: “Well, I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got a better idea.”
Sarah: “How long before we start all this?”
Of course they wouldn’t have to risk their lives on this re-entry plan if they hadn’t lost the TARDIS, which was another bit of plot convenience. Sarah had gone back to the TARDIS and put the key in the lock but was distracted and the TARDIS took off on its own. The key must have canceled the pause control the Doctor reasons. Pause control? Seems like a rather dangerous thing, particularly given the outcome in this instance. The Doctor might want to re-think that feature, maybe when he finally gets her in for her 500 year service that she’s overdue for.
But the Doctor and Sarah are reunited with the wayward TARDIS back on real Earth. The androids are decommissioned, the virus kills Styggron, Crayford learns he has two eyes, and the Kraal invasion fleet is forgotten.
We end somewhat as we began. The Doctor, Sarah, and the TARDIS in the woods. This time they know they are on Earth, but Sarah is not quite home. She’s going home in a taxi, she declares. Enough of this TARDIS business.
“Oh,” the Doctor says. “I’ll make you an offer. I’ll take you home.”
“How can I refuse?” Sarah decides as she places her trust once more in the Doctor.
How could anyone refuse? I certainly couldn’t. I’ll continue traveling with the Doctor, and I hope, Gary, that somewhere out there you are too.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Pyramids of Mars

Dear Gary—
It was with some trepidation that I put Pyramids of Mars into the VCR. This and The Brain of Morbius were the very first and for the longest time only Doctor Who serials in my collection. As such, it is one of the stories I have seen the most, and I worried that familiarity would breed contempt. Not to worry. If anything, I appreciate this story so much more than the first twenty or so times I viewed it.
The Pyramids of Mars is jam packed with nothing but good; I’ll start at the beginning with another delightful TARDIS scene.
“Hello Vicki,” a preoccupied Doctor greets Sarah as she emerges in a flowing gown she found in the wardrobe.  “Victoria wore it,” he explains, “she traveled with me for a time.” What a wonderful tiny little tribute to companions past.
Next we have this telling dialogue from the Doctor: “The Earth isn’t my home Sarah. I’m a Time Lord.” And then, “You don’t understand the implications; I’m not a human being; I walk in eternity.” Of all of the Doctors, Tom Baker’s Doctor is the most alien. Time and again since the fourth Doctor began he has reiterated the point, “I’m not a human being.” And if he isn’t stating it, his companions are.  The Doctor is not from Earth; he is not human; he is a Time Lord. He can rhapsodize about the human race, as he does so eloquently in The Ark in Space, but he is not one of them. He can appreciate from a distance, from the perspective of a Time Lord, through the eyes of eternity. Some generations try to humanize the Doctor, but the Tom Baker years embrace his alien being, and no story illustrates this more than Pyramids of Mars.
“It means I’ve lived for something like 750 years,” the Doctor goes on (middle aged for a Time Lord as Sarah points out). “About time I found something better to do than run around after the Brigadier,” he adds.
Something better to do quickly finds him. Sarah sees the apparition of a jackal like face, despite the Doctor’s “Nothing can enter the TARDIS.” This raises the Doctor’s ‘galactic ticket inspector’ Time Lord senses: “Something’s going on contrary to the laws of the universe; I must find out what.”
The TARDIS lands in the 1911 English family home of the Scarman family, a priory built on the site of future UNIT HQ (so the Doctor is not running around after the Brigadier, he is running around before him). A mysterious Egyptian has taken possession of the priory, keeping the owner’s brother, Laurence Scarman out, and shooting at Scarman’s friend Dr Warlock.
Laurence Scarman decides to involve the police but the Doctor contradicts him, “This is much too grave a matter for the police, Mr. Scarman.” This is not an ordinary, human concern. “They’d only hamper my investigation,” the Doctor says, taking charge of the situation. And to drive home the point: “Why do you think I’m here? Something’s interfering with time, Mr. Scarman, and time is my business.”
I find it interesting that the Doctor and Sarah make no pretence with Laurence Scarman. The Doctor is not an undercover alien.
Doctor: “You see, Mr. Scarman, I have the advantage of being slightly ahead of you. Sometimes behind you, but normally ahead of you.”
Laurence Scarman: “I see.”
Doctor: “I’m sure you don’t, but it’s very nice of you to try.”
It is very nice of Laurence Scarman to try. He does try. The Doctor and Sarah do not patronize him, they speak plainly and directly. An ancient alien being, a megalomaniac  Osirian named Sutekh who was defeated and trapped by his brother Horus and 740 fellow Osirians, has taken over the 1911 priory with the aid of the mentally controlled Egyptian, some mummy-like service robots, and Laurence’s brother Professor Marcus Scarman. An Egyptian sarcophagus housed at the priory serves as the portal of a space-time tunnel. Sutekh has taken control of Professor Scarman and is building a rocket aimed at Mars to destroy the Eye of Horus which is holding Sutekh entombed. All rather far-fetched for a 1911 English gentleman, but he takes it all in and accepts it, even if he doesn’t quite understand.
“I often think dimensional transcendentalism is preposterous, but it works,” the Doctor tells an awed and somewhat befuddled Laurence Scarman as he enters the TARDIS.
The Doctor is a Time Lord. He is an alien. But to the Doctor, humans are alien. He never talks down to them, though. He deals with them as he has dealt with Laurence Scarman, directly. In the same way he answers Sarah’s plea to simply leave, to run from danger.
“Because if Sutekh isn’t stopped he’ll destroy the world,” the Doctor explains to her.  But Sarah is from 1980, she reasons, and she knows that the world was not destroyed in 1911. So to illustrate, he does leave just as she asks. He takes her to 1980, to her time, but this is a 1980 that has seen Sutekh released, this is a 1980 of desolation.
“Every point in time has its alternative, Sarah,” he tells her. The future is not chosen, he explains to her, but shaped by the actions of the present. After looking into alternative 1980, Sarah agrees, they must go back, they must stop Sutekh.
To the Doctor, the stopping of Sutekh is paramount. “If Sutekh succeeds in freeing himself the consequences will be incalculable,” he states. He sees through the eyes of eternity. All Laurence Scarman sees, however, is his beloved brother Marcus.
“What’s walking about out there is no longer your brother,” the Doctor tells him. “It is simply an animated human cadaver.” There is no time for sentiment. There is no time for grieving. There is no time for condolences. There is no time. A Time Lord can see this; a Time Lord looking through the eyes of eternity. Laurence Scarman cannot. Laurence Scarman, trying to reason with this walking cadaver, trying to reach the brother he once knew, is killed by the animated corpse.
Doctor, upon finding Laurence’s dead body: “His late brother must have called.”
Sarah: “That’s horrible. He was so concerned about his bother.”
Doctor: ‘Well, I told him not to be. I told him it was too late.”
Sarah: “Oh, sometimes you don’t seem . . .”
Doctor: “Human?”
Doctor to himself as he examines a dismantled service robot: “Typical Osirian simplicity . . .”
Sarah: “A man has just been murdered.”
Doctor: “Four men, Sarah. Five if you include Professor Scarman himself, and they may be the first of millions unless Sutekh is stopped. Know thine enemy—admirable advice.”
This one powerful scene sets the Doctor, Tom Baker’s Doctor, apart as an alien. The most alien of the Doctors. I love it.
Sarah, too, realizes the glaring truth; “Oh, sometimes you don’t seem . . . .” But she sees other sides to him as well. She sees the playful, the witty, the intelligent. She sees the childish and the scientific. They have a very easy, relaxed relationship, a bantering, teasing but respectful relationship. She can call him out, as in the scene above, or exchange the following comfortable, companionable dialogue as the Doctor tries deactivating a barrier that has been placed about the wood:
Doctor: “No obvious booby traps. Are you going to help or are you just going to stand there and admire the scenery?”
Sarah: “Your shoes need repairing. And I actually wasn’t admiring the scenery; I was waiting for you to tell me what to do.”
Doctor: “Just hold the base; I don’t want it to fall.”
Sarah: “Dangerous?”
Doctor: “Very dangerous. Deactivating a generator loop without the correct key is like repairing a watch with a hammer and chisel. One false move and you’ll never know the time again.”
Sarah:  “Any more comforting thoughts?”
Doctor: Yes. Just let me know if it starts to get warm.”
Sarah: “Don’t worry; you’ll hear me breaking the sound barrier.”
Pyramids of Mars is chock full of dialogue triumphs such as this. I could almost just set out the entire transcript, or better yet, just watch it; I could just post the video. No wonder I have been able to view this one story for twenty or more times and still not be sick of it.
And I haven’t even started on Sutekh yet. Sutekh is one of those effectively sinister Doctro Who villains, right up there with Davros and Omega. Sitting immobile, trapped by the Eye of Horus, his voice alone can send chills down my spine. Add to this: “I bring Sutekh’s gift of death to all humans.” And: “All life is my enemy; all life shall perish under the reign of Sutekh the Destroyer.” And: “Your evil is my good. I am Sutekh the Destroyer, where I tread I leave nothing but dust and darkness. I find that good.”
No wonder the Doctor declares: “I curse you, Sutekh, in the name of all nature. You are a twisted abhorrence.” No wonder it took no less than 740 Osirians plus Horus to entrap him.
Even the Doctor cannot withstand the power of Sutekh’s mind. “In my presence you are an ant, a termite,” Sutekh tells him, “abase yourself you groveling insect.” With the mind controlled Doctor, the TARDIS key, and Sarah along as insurance (the Doctor might be a Time Lord, he might see through the eyes of eternity, but he does have his weak spot and Sutekh has discovered it), Professor Scarman travels to Mars to break the Eye of Horus under the direction of the still entombed Sutekh.
Once on Mars Sutekh’s hold on the Doctor is relaxed and the Doctor and Sarah race after Scarman, first having to navigate a series of puzzles and traps, reminiscent of the Exxilon City in Death to the Daleks (which Sarah comments on even though she never entered that city, although she had studied the strange markings on the outside of the city walls that may account for her comment). However they are too late. Scarman has already destroyed the Eye. Sutekh is free.
But no, the Doctor grabs Sarah and races for the TARDIS. The Doctor has not forgotten the time factor. The Doctor can reach the sarcophagus space-time tunnel in the 1911 English priory before Sutekh reaches the end and can emerge. The Doctor hooks up the TARDIS time control to the tunnel and moves the threshold into the far future. Sutekh never survives the trip. “He lived about seven thousand years,” the Doctor proclaims. And now, as Sarah says, “Sutekh is dead.”
There is so much more I could say about Pyramids of Mars, Gary. I haven’t even mentioned the poacher who has barely a line and yet is so brilliantly acted. Or Sarah blithely tossing a box of gelignite down to the Doctor (“One good sneeze could set it off.” “Sorry.” “No sign of any detonators or fuses?” “No, no, nothing else. Perhaps he sneezed?”).  Or the Doctor having to answer a sort of Knights and Knaves logic puzzle to save Sarah while on Mars. Or the Doctor dressed as a mummy service robot and Sarah having to shoot the gelignite due to a lack of detonators or fuses (“Perhaps he sneezed?”).  Or the Doctor’s off-hand mention of Marie Antoinette. Or the Doctor’s noting of the anachronistic priest hole in a “Victorian gothic folly” (“You’re so pedantic at a time like this.”). Or the Doctor’s claim that the TARDIS controls are isomorphic. Or the Doctor’s respiratory bypass system (“useful in a tight squeeze”). Or the Doctor burning down the priory and running off not wanting the blame (“I had enough of that in 1666.”). Or . . . .
So much, and so much more I could say, Gary. But maybe I’ll just pop it in the VCR and watch it again instead. Pyramids of Mars is worth a second, third, twentieth viewing and more. I would say that Pyramid of Mars is probably one of the best stories of Doctor Who, both Classic and Modern eras. It is easily in the top 10.
I hope, Gary, that you enjoyed Pyramids of Mars as much as I, and are still enjoying it somewhere out there . . .

Friday, January 18, 2013

Planet of Evil

Dear Gary—

Planet of Evil is one of those Doctor Who stories that I really like and admire, yet I don’t necessarily care for.
Planet of Evil is refreshing and ambitious. It is pure, hard-core, old-fashioned sci-fi. There is no alien invasion of or threat to Earth. In fact other than Sarah there are no Earthlings to be found. The Doctor and Sarah are so far from Earth, so far from any known galaxy, so far indeed that they are at the very edges of the universe. Neither are there any rubber-suited monsters or age-old foes. Not a Dalek or Cyberman to be seen. Indeed, there is no real, true enemy in Planet of Evil. Despite the Evil of the title, there is no real or true evil.
One could argue that Professor Sorenson’s greed for fame and fortune is bad, but I would not say evil. Neither is the Controller Salamar evil; he is foolish and mad but not evil. And the antimatter creatures are surely not evil.
No, the enemy the Doctor is fighting is the ignorant tampering into things unknown and the inevitable disastrous outcomes of such heedless action.
It has been a long time, if ever, since Doctor Who has tackled such a story.
“It’s tempting to let them go ahead and destroy themselves,” the Doctor says of the foolhardy Morestrans, “The trouble is they wouldn’t be the only ones.”
“It’s tempting to let them go ahead and destroy themselves.” These foolhardy Morestrans are rushing straight into danger. What business is that of the Doctor? What business is that of a non-interfering Time Lord?
“The trouble is they wouldn’t be the only ones.” Ah, that is his business.
I think back to the first Doctor landing on Skaro and leaving the Thals and the Daleks to fight among themselves. What business of it was his? Only when his fluid link was endangered did he get involved. Jump ahead several serials and a miniaturized Doctor and companions risk their own lives to expose and stop a scheme that will cause widespread destruction on Earth.
The evolution of the Doctor’s thinking started in that long ago junkyard with two stowaway/kidnapped school teachers. The further the Doctor has traveled, both in time and distance, from his Time Lord heritage, the further he strays from their policy of non-interference.( Although at times this straying is at the command of the Time Lords ala Genesis of the Daleks.) However interference has its limits. The Doctor does not go looking for trouble, not yet. The Doctor does not relish danger, not yet.
“It’s tempting to let them go ahead and destroy themselves.”
“The trouble is they wouldn’t be the only ones.”
That was a bit of a digression, Gary, that I hadn’t intended; it was tempting to let it go . . .
But I didn’t and now I have to get back on track.
Planet of Evil contains another element that has not been a part of Doctor Who for quite a while, and that is an extended TARDIS scene. And what a scene it is. The Doctor and Sarah have clicked. Playful, bickering, teasing; the Doctor and Sarah have evolved into one of the most classic of Doctor Who Doctor/companion pairings.
As Sarah reminds the Doctor of his promise to get her to London five minutes before leaving Loch Ness, we get this gem of an exchange:
Doctor: “Listen, we’re on the edge of a time-space vortex and you’re talking in minutes.”
Sarah: “Oh, I see. What’s gone wrong this time?”
Doctor: “Nothing, nothing at all. What makes you think something’s gone wrong?”
Sarah: “Because you always get rude when you’re trying to cover up a mistake.”
Doctor: “Nothing of consequence. Slight overshoot, easily rectified.”
The slight overshoot turns out to be thirty thousand years.
Outside of the TARDIS there are more little moments between the two, like the simple touch of Sarah hanging on to the end of the Doctor’s scarf as he leads the way through the jungle. Or when a mysterious mechanical device goes whizzing by their heads: “What was that? An elfin spirit of the forest?” And then the Doctor quoting Shakespeare and mentioning off-handedly that he met him once. Or this tiny exchange:
Sarah: “Do you ever get tired of being pushed around?”
Doctor: “Frequently.”
Small companionable moments scattered about adding that dash of camaraderie that makes us care and keeps us invested in these characters and the story.
And the story is quite good, as I said before, an ambitious sci-fi tale on the edge of the universe. The Morestrans have mined a substance to provide endless energy for their home planet. Trouble is, this mineral is of the antimatter world and if taken out of its world, well the Doctor’s “Was that bang big enough for you Brigadier?” from Terror of the Zygons would take on a whole new meaning.
In order to keep this from happening, the planet’s antimatter creatures have been slowly killing off the members of the Morestran expedition. Invisible at first, we are later treated to one of the better Doctor Who special effects as the glowing red outlines of the creatures become visible. Later, as the Morestrans continue to load the mineral onto their ship and attempt to take off, the antimatter aboard pulls them back towards the planet. At this point we get an added bonus of a Jekyll and Hyde tale, a Professor Sorenson and Mr. Antiman tale if you will.
I do like this story, especially as the mystery unfolds in the superbly conceived jungle surface of the planet. The sinister atmosphere, the grizzly deaths, the shimmering antimatter all provide an excellent backdrop as the Doctor detects then warns then endangers himself to communicate with the antimatter.
The problem I have with Planet of Evil is when the action shifts to the Morestran ship. The story itself is still quite fine, but I find the set to be rather cheap, in stark contrast to the lush jungle we left behind, and the acting of the crew leaves something to be desired. For me it makes the second half of the story rather pedestrian.
Sorenson and Vishinsky handle their roles well enough, but the Controller Salamar becomes inexplicably unhinged and hysterical while the rest of the crew has little to do other than get killed. All the while they are running around in space jumpsuits and booties that undermine their authority.
Salamar in particular is a disappointment. His first appearance indicates he is going to be your typical Doctor Who hard-headed leader who won’t listen to reason. Then he surprises a bit as he rightfully stands firm against Sorenson, reminding him that this is a military expedition and the death of his crew members must be thoroughly investigated. But then he reverts to form, refusing to listen to the Doctor or the more level-headed Vishinsky, and then he quickly devolves into a raving maniac.
The Doctor, of course, never disappoints, and there are several shining moments for him in Planet of Evil. There are two in particular that I want to mention.
The first is when the Doctor dives into the antimatter pool to communicate with the creature. This act of bravery alone is not noteworthy; it is the meaning and intent of the act. Antimatter is not an evil to be exterminated. It is a being to reason with, to understand. “It doesn’t live anywhere . . . it just is,” he says of it. It just is, and the Doctor understands that. He dives into the pool and negotiates. He gives his word as a Time Lord, he later explains, that no antimatter will leave the planet. His word. As a Time Lord. The Doctor is a Time Lord; he is on the run from all that means, but he is still a Time Lord, and that means everything to him. Tom Baker’s Doctor wears the mantle of the Time Lord and is most worthy of that mantle. It is the very fiber of his being, despite his being on the run from it. His word as a Time Lord is a solemn thing and he treats it as such. He does not flaunt or brag. He states it calmly and matter-of-factly, he gave his word as a Time Lord.
The Doctor’s second moment that truly shines is his dealing with Professor Sorenson. While Sorenson is in one of his more sane, Jekyll periods the Doctor tells him, “You and I are scientists, Professor. We buy our privilege to experiment at the cost of total responsibility.” The Professor has snuck some antimatter into his cabin after it had all been ordered ejected from the ship; the Professor has become contaminated himself with the antimatter turning him into Antiman. The Professor has brought probable disaster to the ship and most probably the universe. Now he must pay the cost. He must be responsible. In essence, the Doctor is inciting the Professor to suicide.
This might sound morally repugnant to our human ears. But the Doctor is not human. The Doctor is a Time Lord. As solemn as his word as a Time Lord is this statement, “We buy our privilege to experiment at the cost of total responsibility.”
Sorenson almost succeeds in paying this cost, but his Antiman side takes over at the last minute forcing the Doctor to act. I do find the sight of the Doctor brandishing a firearm a bit unsettling; this is so contrary to all that is the Doctor. However, despite his abhorrence of violence and gunplay, the Doctor has had his history with guns and even has some on board the TARDIS (as Steven discovers in The Gunfighters) and has been known to state, “They are handy little things” (The Sensorites). And at least this time when the Doctor turns the blaster on Sorenson it is only set to stun and is not the glaring anomaly of The Day of the Daleks in which he unthinkingly kills an Ogron.
Antiman Sorenson and the antimatter are offered up to the antimatter pool, and because the Doctor has kept his word Sorenson is released, cleansed of all contamination and thankfully cleansed of the memory of his endless but deadly energy discovery. Instead, the Doctor sets him on to a more benign method—the kinetic force of planetary movement.
An ambitious story with some lush jungle sets, fantastic special effects creatures, and great Doctor/companion moments, but a rather prosaic second half that drags it back, rather like the Morestran ship being dragged back to the planet. A story that I admire and like but don’t necessarily care for.
But now I have jettisoned Planet of Evil and am ready to soar forth out into the Doctor Who universe. Here’s hoping that this finds you, Gary, somewhere out there in that same universe . . .

Monday, January 14, 2013

Terror of the Zygons

Dear Gary—
“THE Loch Ness Monster.” I’m skipping ahead, Gary; all the way to modern Doctor Who—School Reunion. Sarah Jane and Rose are bickering about their travels with the Doctor, each trying to top the other with the aliens they have encountered. Sarah holds the trump card—The Loch Ness Monster.
Terror of the Zygons is that trump card stopping Rose in her tracks: “Seriously?”
Unfortunately Nessie doesn’t live up to her billing; she’s rather an unconvincing monster, a little more convincing than the dinosaurs of The Invasion of the Dinosaurs, but not much so. Terror of the Zygons however, more than makes up for this lapse in special effects.
The Doctor had received a message from the Brigadier at the end of Revenge of the Cybermen (the Doctor explaining that he had left a space time telegraph system with the Brig) and so the TARDIS materializes in the Scottish countryside as our story opens. We know immediately where they are as the Doctor emerges with a bit of flair from the culture—a tartan scarf and tam. Not to worry, though, his own beloved endless scarf is draped rather amusingly around Harry and Sarah sports his trademark floppy hat.
A bit of a side note here, Gary. I notice that our four Doctors to date seem to alternate style choices. The first and third Doctors take on the gentlemen of the universe, dapper role while the second and fourth are more of the space hobo variety. Each, however, in his own inimitable way.
To carry the Scottish theme further, the Brigadier is wearing a kilt, to the amusement of the Doctor and Sarah, although I have to say, Gary, the Brig carries this off with aplomb. In fact, if the others hadn’t commented on the fact I might not have even noticed. And then there is the constant bagpipe playing by the inn’s landlord that annoys the UNIT team. I find it a nice little touch that the Brig sends Benton to quiet the noise, noting that Benton gets on well with the man. Terror of the Zygons is full of these throw-away moments that enrich the characters and the story.
Another moment that impressed me early on is when the Brigadier comments on the Duke of Forgill: “What an odd man; rather medieval in his ideas.” “A man of convictions,” the Doctor counters. Brief observations tossed out and almost lost as the action takes off, but there all the same to deepen our understanding of the characters. However, there is a later scene that somewhat bothers me. It is another small, unnecessary-to-the-plot snippet that is rather amusing if it were not somewhat cruel and contrary to that prior moment. That is when the Doctor does a mocking impression of the Duke as they sit in his castle awaiting his arrival.
Small moments aside, the action of our story is rather good too. The Zygons are yet another alien race that has crashed to Earth and are stranded and intend on making the Earth over into their own. In order to accomplish this the Zygons are using a giant cyborg sea monster under their control that lurks in Loch Ness. The Zygons have a nifty talent of shape shifting to take on the appearance of humans they have captured, and there is a truly terrifying scene of a Zygon Harry threatening Sarah with a pitchfork in a hay loft.
There is also an exciting chase as the Doctor tries to draw off the Loch Ness Monster in a car. When the car stalls he is forced to make a run for it across the moors. Despite the fact that the monster effect is cheaply done we never doubt the danger thanks to some excellent acting and directing.
I am still undecided about the Zygons themselves. They are a typical Doctor Who rubber suited monster, but they do have a certain creepiness about them. “You admire our technology, human?” the Zygon leader Broton asks the Doctor. “Well, I’m not human and I’ve seen better,” the Doctor replies. “Better than this?” an incredulous Broton enquires. “Very good, very good,” the Doctor responds, “Almost impressive.” I’m with the Doctor here, I’ve seen better aliens, but I will admit that the Zygons are good, almost impressive.
And the actors portraying the human Zygon counterparts are equally eerie. I find the nurse especially sinister, and it is all that more effective when we meet the real humans. We only get a few scenes with these original copies as they work with the Doctor to escape the Zygon ship, but the contrast between the real and the fake is striking, with just the subtlest of acting and directing.
Acting and directing. Toss in writing. All the things that make Doctor Who a success. Never mind a cheap budget; the acting, directing, and writing are almost always top notch making us forget the rubber suits.
Not to get soap-boxy, Gary, but one can argue that much of the trouble with modern movies and television is the increase in budget. So much goes into making the effects perfect that the acting, directing, and writing suffer. We believe the danger because it is exploding in our face; we don’t feel the danger with the characters. (I would make a similar argument for the absence of censorship—profanity replacing emotion—but then I would really be getting soap-boxy.)
Speaking of soap boxes, I notice that Terror of the Zygons doesn’t pass up the opportunity to slip in some Doctor Who environmentalism. I think the monster attacking the oil rigs was added to the script simply so this little speech could be included: “It’s about time the people who run this planet of yours realized that to be dependent upon a mineral slime just doesn’t make sense. Now the energizing of hydrogen . . .”
The oil rigs are also a convenient excuse for the monster to come ashore, having to make a detour from its usual underwater path to the sea. Rather than revealing the monster for the entire world to see, the Zygons somehow manage to release a gas putting everyone to sleep, including the Brigadier, while Nessie traverses the village. This leads to another one of those nice little moments as the Brigadier awakens: “Asleep? Impossible. I was on duty. There are times, Doctor, when you do talk absolute nonsense.”
But we know, Gary, that the Doctor’s nonsense has more sense in it than not. “You like asking questions,” the Duke says to the Doctor. “Well,” the Doctor replies, “it’s the only way to learn.” This fourth Doctor is always asking questions, always making observations, always playing detective. And then: “Right, let’s see what other damage we can do.”
The damage the Doctor manages is to find the inexplicable sci-fi/horror self-destruct mechanism on the Zygon ship to blow it up. “Was that bang big enough for you Brigadier?”
Of course, he still has to face the escaped Broton and the cyborg Nessie. The Brigadier kills Broton (I am a bit disappointed in the hopelessly hopping Sarah in the background as the Doctor wrestles with the Zygon), and the Doctor feeds Nessie the Zygon homing device that was sending her into fits of frenzy and so she wanders off back to her home in Loch Ness.
It’s the Doctor’s turn now to wander off in the TARDIS. This time Harry declines a lift, and I am rather sad to see him go. Sarah, however, accepts the Doctor’s invitation to adventure. She hesitates at first. Here she is home on her own planet, her reporter job waiting for her (she even has started a story about the strange happenings at the Loch), but the lure of the Doctor and the TARDIS win out. She is fully on board now. She initially stumbled into TARDIS life with the third Doctor; she willing follows the fourth.
The Doctor’s claim to be able to control the destination of the TARDIS might have helped in her decision. “Just a minute, Doctor,” she says disbelievingly, “I thought you couldn’t do that.” “Of course I can. Coming?” the Doctor replies.
And of course she does. I, too, will continue on this wondrous ride with the Doctor; and I hope that somewhere out there you are as well, Gary . . .

Friday, January 11, 2013

Revenge of the Cybermen

Dear Gary—
“You’ve no home planet, no influence, nothing. You’re just a pathetic bunch of tin soldiers skulking about the galaxy in an ancient spaceship.”
If Genesis of the Daleks put the scary back in the Daleks, Revenge of the Cybermen takes it out of the Cybermen, turning them into “gold plated souvenirs that people use as hat stands.” Although, truth be told Gary, I never did find the Cybermen of classic Doctor Who very frightening.
As for their Vogan foes, well, their ineptitude against the Cybermen is the only thing giving our cyber villains the edge.
Voga, the gold planet, is singularly pathetic. Here we have an entire planet brimming with the one sure-fire weapon to defeat the Cybermen—gold. Gold, gold, as far as the eye can see; and yet not one glittergun is to be found.
Revenge of the Cybermen brings us full circle from The Ark in Space. The Doctor, Sarah, and Harry have finally made it back to Nerva, and I find this an interesting parallel to that first Ark story from the William Hartnell years. However, whereas the first Doctor returned to his Ark many hundreds of years in the future, this fourth Doctor returns thousands of years in his Ark’s past.
Nerva is not yet an Ark bearing the future of the human race; Nerva is more or less a floating cemetery, its halls littered with corpses. The first few scenes as the Doctor, Sarah, and Harry walk through those dead corridors are unnerving and eerie. However the rest of the story doesn’t match those spine-chilling moments.
Instead we get ineffectual mole-men cowering underground on their mounds of gold with “the philosophy of a cringing mouse,” (they should take a lesson from Sarah: “Well, we can’t just sit here glittering, can we?”) and a handful of Cybermen inexplicably relying on the mercenary nature of a traitorous human and a convoluted plot for their dirty work.
It seems, Gary, that each time the Cybermen appear in early Classic Who stories they have been presumed extinct for centuries. And yet pockets of Cybermen continually resurface to the surprise of all. It also seems as though we are continually to get great chunks of the Cybermen’s rich history thrown at us but never get to witness it. In their first story The Tenth Planet we learn of the Cyberman home, Earth’s twin planet Mondas; in Revenge of the Cybermen we hear of the great Cyber-War, the attack on Voga, and the creation of glitterguns (reminiscent of ‘Polly Cocktail’ back in The Moonbase).  The present story, however, never seems to live up to those fascinating glimpses into Cyberman past.
Convolutions and enigmas abound in Revenge of the Cybermen. Despite the belief that the Cybermen have been eradicated, Vogans have gone into hiding, lurking in terror under the planet’s surface. However, one Vogan, Vorus,”a gambler with a mad thirst for power,” has somehow contacted an equally ambitious human, Kellman, and together they have devised a plan to bring Voga back to glory. Kellman, acting as double agent, is to lure the Cybermen to Nerva with the intent of destroying Voga. Vorus in the meantime has secretly created and built a rocket to destroy Nerva.
The Cybermen, for their part, are using Kellman (“We can trust in his greed; gold buys humans.”) and Cybermats to kill all but four humans on Nerva. The surviving humans are to become living bombs sent down to Voga waiting detonation.
Vorus runs into opposition on Voga; Vogan Militia and Vogan Guardians fire on each other. Kellman transmats down to Voga and is captured by the Militia. Vorus’ rocket isn’t ready. The Cybermen have sent the Doctor and two Nerva crew members down loaded with explosives. Cybermen can’t take the explosives themselves because of the gold, you see. However two Cybermen can transmat down to Voga to stand guard and to threaten manual detonation if the human carriers deviate off course.
Vogans try to shoot the Cybermen but are killed themselves. Again, gold, gold everywhere . . . .
The Doctor is the one constant in all of this. He doesn’t have long, thought out, convoluted plans that go haywire. He is thinking on his toes, working it out as he goes. “Everything’s important,” he says at one point in our story. The Doctor observes everything, misses nothing (hence his first encounter with Kellman: “Who’s the homicidal maniac?”).
“What’s your idea?” the Doctor is asked. “I don’t know yet,” he replies. “That’s the trouble with ideas; they only come a bit at a time.”
The Doctor does the obvious, using gold against the Cybermen. However he doesn’t have a gun to shoot it, he is relying on handfuls of dust against Cyberman strength. It is Lester, the Nerva crewman, who jumps on the Cybermen and explodes his bomb. Now I have to ask myself, did the Cybermen really think this pitiful little bomb was going to blow up an entire planet? Even three pitiful little bombs? An entire planet?  Granted, they weren’t at the core yet, but then doesn’t that render the Cyberman threat of manual detonation useless? Yes, it would kill the humans, but Voga would remain Voga.
Now the Cybermen do the obvious, they pack Nerva with explosives and set it on a course for Voga. Again, I doubt if this would obliterate a planet. It might create a whopping big crater, but obliterate? Not sure it would work. Not if the explosives are as puny as the bomb that killed Lester and two Cybermen.
The Cybermen abandon Nerva as it heads on its kamikaze mission, leaving the Doctor and Sarah aboard. Big mistake. The Doctor, after a bit of Houdini escapism, is able to avert the crash and save both Nerva and Voga. Vorus gets his rocket working and it is aimed at the Cybermen’s ship. (Wouldn’t that have been a better plan all along instead of luring them to Nerva to kill only a handful of Cybermen and an entire human crew, leaving the Cyber ship untouched?)
A rather disappointing story to follow up Genesis of the Daleks. The Doctor, Sarah, and Harry don’t disappoint, though, and their presence throughout saves this from being a total wreck. In the end, a good Doctor Who story doesn’t necessarily have to be good; it just has to be Doctor Who.
I’ll leave you with that thought, Gary . . .

Monday, January 7, 2013

Genesis of the Daleks

Dear Gary—

Genesis of the Daleks is arguably one of the most seminal serials in Doctor Who. The Daleks put Doctor Who on the map back in 1963 despite the fact that that first story was long, drawn out, and boring. The Daleks captured the imagination of a nation and struck fear into its young audience. Since then the Daleks have returned to the series multiple times, relentless and ruthless.
However, Doctor Who is more than the sum of its Daleks. Other aliens have come and gone; additional arch enemies have emerged to harass the Doctor. The Master, the Cybermen, and the Sontarans, to name a few, rival the Daleks for Doctor Who villainy. A story depicting the origins of the Daleks would not rise to classic stature in and of itself, although it does in and of itself contain the potential.
A story reuniting past Doctor generations has the same landmark potential; however none of those that have been attempted have quite delivered.
Genesis of the Daleks delivers.
That is not to say that Genesis of the Daleks is the best Doctor Who story ever written or even the most entertaining. It is a good story, well written and entertaining, yes, but it is a tad long just like that first long ago Dalek adventure. No, a solid script and outstanding concept alone will not elevate a story in such a way.
Time and again in Doctor Who we are told that “the Dalek menace always remains;” that they are evil; that they are the greatest threat to the universe. Genesis of the Daleks provides the meat for these bare bones statements. After watching Genesis of the Daleks we not only know this as fact, we believe it.
We believe it because of Davros. Davros, this one mutation of a man. Davros, this egomaniacal mad scientist. Davros, this creator of the Daleks. Davros.
Davros: “Evil? No, no, I will not accept that. They are conditioned simply to survive. They can survive only by becoming the dominant species. When all other life forms are suppressed, when the Daleks are the supreme rulers of the universe, then you will have peace; wars will end. They are the power not of evil but of good.”
Doctor: Davros, if you had created a virus in your laboratory, something contagious and infectious, that killed on contact, a virus that would destroy all other forms of life, would you allow its use?”
Davros: “It is an interesting conjecture.”
Doctor: “Would you do it?”
Davros: “The only living thing, a microscopic organism, reigning supreme. A fascinating idea.”
Doctor: “But would you do it?”
Davros: “Yes . . . yes. To hold in my hand a capsule that contains such power; to know that life and death on such a scale was my choice; to know that the tiny pressure of my thumb, enough to break the glass, would end everything. Yes . . . I would do it. That power would set me up above the gods. And through the Daleks I shall have that power.”
This is a truly chilling scene, brilliantly written, brilliantly acted. Davros in and of himself is a masterpiece.
Davros is not alone. The Doctor, too, rises above in Genesis of the Daleks. You know, Gary, that I already have a high opinion of Tom Baker’s Doctor. In Genesis of the Daleks he is superb.
The Doctor is on Skaro at the moment of the Daleks’ creation because the Time Lords have sent him there. The Time Lords, those galactic ticket takers, those champions of non-interference, have set the Doctor on a mission of interference. If there is one thing that Doctor Who has always preached it is that history should never be changed. That seems to be a rule inviolate with Time Lords. Yet here they are blatantly breaking that rule. And all it takes is one word, “Daleks,” and the Doctor agrees.
But that ancient pull of the Time Lords, that philosophy of detachment engrained in him as a boy and that he ran from in his stolen TARDIS, that fixed point mentality has shaped the Doctor in many ways. The Doctor has his own genesis to deal with.
“Have I that right?”
The Daleks, “the most evil creatures ever invented;” the Daleks, that devastating virus about to be unleashed on the world; the Daleks. And yet the Doctor asks, “Have I that right?”
“But the final responsibility is mine and mine alone,” the Doctor reasons. The Time Lords have sent him on this mission, Sarah is urging him to it, the Daleks are before him, “simply touch one wire against the other and that’s it.” And yet he asks, “Have I that right?” This is his decision to make; not the Time Lords’, not Sarah’s, not History’s. His and his alone. “Have I that right?”
The Doctor would not be the Doctor if he did not ask the question. If he did not agonize over the decision.
“Listen, if someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?”
Just touch the two wires and no more Daleks.  ‘Just do it, Doctor,’ every fiber in every being screams.
And yet . . . “But if I kill, wipe out a whole intelligent life form, then I become like them. I’d be no better than the Daleks.”
The Doctor must and does agonize over this decision. It is his decision, and his alone.
This is where the story gets in the way.
There is a story unfolding around these moral dilemmas and philosophical discussions. It’s a decent enough plot. Back in our first Dalek serial from 1963 we saw the results of the devastating war on Skaro leaving the Thals as scrounging nomads, mutations lurking in swamps, and Daleks holed up in their metal city. At that time we learned that the Daleks had evolved from a race called Dals. In this story we learn they are actually Kaleds. I don’t worry too much about this discrepancy though, Gary.  I figure that the nomadic Thals who had been carrying around their history for thousands of years after the ravages of war were bound to have inaccuracies.
Genesis of the Daleks takes place at the end of this war between the Thals and the Kaleds, and we have some interesting socio-political dynamics going on and several fascinating characters if we had the time to explore them, but as it is they serve merely as an enriching backdrop to the action. Although I do want to make special mention of Nyder. His fanatical devotion to Davros would make for some absorbing study.
The action consists of some straightforward combat, political intrigue, betrayals, plotting and counter plotting, captures and escapes, chases, and explosions. In the midst of all this Sarah gets conscripted into working on a rocket for the Thals and leads a failed escape attempt while Harry steps in a giant, mutated oyster (“Why is it always me that puts a foot in it?”).
Right when the Doctor is having his momentous battle of conscience the plot collides with him. He does not need to blow up the Daleks he is told. Kaled scientists and military elite have banded together against Davros and he has agreed to alter the genetic engineering of the Daleks to give them a sense of right and wrong. Easy out.
Of course Davros won’t give up that easily. This is merely a plot of his own to lull his detractors before turning on them: “Do you believe that I would let a lifetime’s work be ended by the wills of spineless fools like you?”
And so the Doctor must make his decision after all, only now he has no time to think. No more standing with the two wires almost touching, wondering about the right and the wrong of it. No more questions. No more hypotheticals. With Daleks patrolling the corridors and Thals prepared to blow up the tunnel, the Doctor must act. And he does (with a little help from a Dalek).
In the end, his act will only delay the Daleks, not defeat them. The Daleks are never defeated. But that doesn’t distress the Doctor: “Out of their evil must come something good.”
This is, after all, the genesis of the Daleks, not the demise. Born out of the chillingly maniacal brain of Davros, these creations set themselves, not Davros, above the gods: “Our programming does not permit us to acknowledge that any creature is superior to the Daleks.”
Genesis of the Daleks makes us believe, not just know, that the Daleks are evil. And when they turn on their creator; when they turn on one of the most unsettling villains in Doctor Who; when they turn on Davros with no compunction, we feel the icy terror in our veins.
“Pity. I have no understanding of the word. It is not registered in my vocabulary bank. EXTERMINATE!”
They might be pepper pots and “wee salt-shakers,” but these cold, pitiless words would make me cower behind a couch any day.
But like the Doctor I am not disappointed that the Daleks are only delayed and not defeated. Out of their evil comes much good Doctor Who viewing.
And so I am settling in for a nice long run of this fourth Doctor, hopefully with a Dalek or two, and I hope this finds you somewhere out there, dear Gary . . .

Friday, January 4, 2013

The Sontaran Experiment

Dear Gary—

The Sontaran Experiment is a fascinating two part case study. Styre is the Sontaran of our title who has lured a group of astronauts down to the deserted Earth in order to make an assessment of human strengths and weaknesses. The Doctor, Sarah, and Harry use the Space Station Nerva transmat beam and land in the midst of this experiment, allowing us to make our own assessment of the Doctor, his companions, and the Sontarans.
“Are you coming or going; or going or coming?” the Doctor asks as Harry flickers in and out before materializing completely.
“I feel a bit like a Morse message—slightly scrambled,” Harry replies. And that is Harry--losing his shoes, pushing the wrong button, falling down crevasses: “You know it’s absolutely typical of Harry . . . how anyone in his proper mind could fall down a whacking great subsidence . . . .” But Harry is perfectly capable of getting himself out again. He is only slightly scrambled; most of the time he is competent, brave, reliable. He spends much of our story gathering his own intelligence on Styre and rendering assistance to Styre’s victims.
Sarah in The Sontaran Experiment is in a transition stage between her independent, liberated woman reporter role of her early stories and her endearing, girl in peril role of future serials. Sarah bristles at Harry calling her “old thing” and uses her investigative instincts to reason out that they are not alone on the planet and that all is not right with the stranded astronauts. She rescues the Doctor from the astronauts and even recovers his invaluable sonic screwdriver. “What would I do without you,” the Doctor tells her. She also gets herself captured by Styre, and through it all she is absolutely adorable in her yellow rain slicker and knit cap.
Then there is Styre, our experimenting Sontaran. Due to the similarity in appearance, Sarah mistakes him for Linx from The Time Warrior. “Identical, yes; the same, no,” Styre replies. But he is just as enjoyable a villain to watch as Linx was.
“Your opinion of my looks is of no interest to my program,” he tells Sarah. Insults on his appearance do not faze him. He is logical, methodical; he is a Sontaran.
“Why do you make that disagreeable noise,” Styre asks when Sarah screams. He is on Earth to gather intelligence, and Sarah, “as a female is far more interesting,” than the “moron” he had already studied and found of no further use. His assessment of the female of the species: “would appear to have no military justification; offensive value therefore nil.” He is logical; methodical; he is a Sontaran.
 “That is my function, I am a warrior,” he tells Sarah when she protests his killing Roth. And when Sarah claims to be from Earth when Styre knows Earth to be uninhabited he replies, “You are a mistake and must therefore be eliminated; according to my data, you should not exist.” He is logical, methodical; he is a Sontaran.
The Doctor is also logical and methodical, but he is not a Sontaran. He is a Time Lord. He is the Doctor.
“Nerva . . . transmat beam . . . Earth. It’s as simple as that. Why don’t you believe me?”
The Doctor has explained to his captors his presence on Earth calmly, logically, straightforwardly. When the stranded astronauts reject this, the Doctor asks his perfectly reasonable question. “Why don’t you believe me?”
The Doctor remains calm and respectful while at the same time trying to penetrate the thick heads of the astronauts: “I’m sorry to keep contradicting you . . . .” The Doctor does not get frustrated. He does not get angry. He does not get flustered. He answers his captors frankly and honestly despite their disbelief and inanity. When he explains that the Nerva alarm clock had stopped, they dismiss the whole space station aspect and simply ask him if he is a clock expert. The Doctor, ever polite, replies, “Horologist actually, and chronometrist. I just love clocks: atomic clocks, wall quartz clocks, grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks . . . .”
When asked if he has any proof of his claims he replies, “Well, no; but then I didn’t expect to meet anybody.”
He is logical and methodical. He is calm and straightforward. While those around him become emotional, annoyed, distrustful, the Doctor simply states what to him is the obvious.
But he is not a Sontaran. He is a Time Lord. He is the Doctor.
Finding the terrorized Sarah, the Doctor’s moral outrage bursts forth as he lunges at Styre accusing, “You unspeakable abomination.” The storm beneath the calm.
The Doctor’s waters run deep, unlike the Sontarans.  “The Sontarans never do anything without a military reason.” The Doctor, on the other hand, does everything with anything but a military reason. His logic and method are untidy and cluttered.
A stray piece off of Nerva’s rocket that he has tucked away in a pocket saves the Doctor’s life. Harry calls this fortuitous, but the Doctor corrects: “Foresight. You never know when these bits and pieces will come in handy. Never throw anything away, Harry.” There is method to his madness and madness to his method.
In the end, the Doctor’s method defeats the Sontaran’s. Names might never hurt Styre, but question his bravery and be prepared for a fight. As the Doctor points out, Styre is strong but unwieldy and unused to Earth’s gravity. All the Doctor has to do is wear him out enough so that he must return to his ship to reenergize. The Doctor has sent Harry to sabotage this ship, and the result is that rather than feeding on the energy the energy feeds on Styre.
This, Gary, is the one point that bothers me about The Sontaran Experiment. The Doctor seems a bit callous in killing Styre in this rather grim fashion, but I suppose the Doctor doesn’t have the same affection for Sontarans as I do.
And so, dear Gary, I come to an end of The Sontaran Experiment, but my slow path experiment is far from over . . .