Friday, August 30, 2013

Timelash

Dear Gary—
I know I am beginning to appreciate Colin Baker’s Doctor when I can sit through a truly awful story like Timelash and not be completely fed up, disgusted, or angered. What partly helps is that Peri is held captive for much of the time. Normally I would resent the trivializing of a companion in this way. However, hooray! For once Peri’s incessant and moronic questions are directed at someone other than the Doctor, and at last her constant carping has some relevancy; “You’re hurting me” is a much more legitimate complaint than “I’m bored.” (Really Peri? You’re traveling with the Doctor and you’re bored more often than not?)
Timelash is bad, though. There’s no getting around that. The sets are laughable, the plot thin, and much of the acting uninspired. If ever there was a bargain basement bottom of the barrel story this is it, right down there with The Web Planet, The Underwater Menace, The Time Monster, The Horns of Nimon, and Warriors of the Deep (to pick one from every Doctor). Some of these clearance rack stories work better than others; some relish in the bad, some manage to survive the bad, and some are just bad. Timelash manages to keep its head above water. Barely.
I want to start with the Timelash of our title. Calling the story ‘Timelash’ is rather like calling ‘Resurrection of the Daleks’ ‘Time Corridor.’  I don’t mind that the physical depiction of the Timelash is lame. However, I do mind that it is lame in practice. The worst punishment a Karfel traitor faces is to be forcibly stumbled backwards into the Timelash; not execution, not disfigurement, not torture; they are sent to 12thC Earth. First of all, why Earth? But never mind. Secondly, we never see the end of the time (and apparently space) tunnel; we never see a Karfel rebel falling out of the Timelash onto 12thC Earth. OK, we do get a ghost Vena (not much different than in person Vena) wafting through the TARDIS on her way to 1865 Scotland via the Timelash, but does this justify naming rights? I want to know what’s happened to all of those exiles. Is there a colony of Karfelons somewhere on our planet, and if so, where do they fit in my family tree? And wait a minute—Doctor . . . TARDIS . . . Karfelons wantonly sentenced to life on Earth. Does no one think to ask the mighty Time Lord to collect those penal colonists and return them to their proper home once The Borad is overthrown?
Ah, The Borad. Here is something that is right. Here is something worth naming a Doctor Who serial after. All of the show’s budget must have gone into the makeup for The Borad; and even confined to a chair and disfigured, The Borad manages to out act most of the cast around him.
However the Borad is given short shrift. He only has a few scenes, and even then he has to share his lines with the old man persona he has created. We never get an explanation of how exactly he is holding the planet under his tyranny or how he was able to mastermind his great deception.  And then all at once the Doctor kills him. But wait—that was only a clone. The real Borad reveals himself (as well as revealing that he can actually walk) and grabs Peri. Much like the Mara in Kinda, however, he is done in by a mirror and all that is left is for the Doctor to push him into the Timelash and that is the end of that; the Borad is now a worry for 12thC Earth; out of sight, out of mind. I don’t for a minute buy the hinted at Loch Ness Monster angle, especially since the Doctor has already met Nessie in Terror of the Zygons.
That’s the main problem with Timelash; it has some interesting nuggets of ideas but doesn’t seem to know where to go with them. The Borad’s banishment of mirrors and his desire to kill all life and repopulate the planet with offspring from a reconstituted Peri screams of some deep psychological angst. But there is no room in this script for any Sharaz Jek like pathos. Instead we have the Doctor callously taunting him with, “You’re nothing, Borad. Just a self-degenerating mutation. You’re finished, Borad. Your reign of terror’s over. Nobody wants you. Nobody needs you. Nobody cares!” A mirror and a little bullying and it’s all over. If it was that easy . . . .
Now let us consider the puppet army of Bandrils. It took me several viewings to get the logic behind this subplot. The Bandrils have a bomb that will wipe out all life on the planet excepting the Morlox. The Borad is banking on the fact that he is half Morlox and will survive the bomb. Seems a big risk to take, given that he is also still half Karfelon, but he’s desperate. It seems farfetched to assume that a single bomb will do the trick, but then planets in the Doctor Who universe do tend to be tiny, only big enough to contain one major city, so I’ll accept it. The Bandrils, claiming to be peaceful, are planning this genocide because Karfel has reneged on a trade agreement. Technically it’s one of the terms of a treaty, so I guess there is a history of hostility between the two planets, but that is pure speculation. The Bandrils need the grain of Karfel to feed their starving people, which I guess is some small justification for mass murder (and to jump ahead a story, there apparently is a famine in the galaxy at one point in time so this might be the case in our current story). I have to wonder, though, how long it will be before it is safe for the Bandrils to collect the grain. (Or are they also immune to the effects of the bomb as the Morlox are?) And once they have the current grain supply, do they have a plan to colonize Karfel with their own farmers? I wonder if the Borad ever thought of that.
With the Borad disposed of, however, the Bandrils no longer have a reason to attack. The Karfelons frantically try to communicate this fact to them but the Bandrils ignore the message. It is only when the Doctor raises the threat of Time Lord retaliation that these peace loving Bandrils respond. Even then they demand proof and when the Doctor hesitates: “Then there is little we can do.” If you ask me, the only reason there is little they can do is because the writer gave them no other choice so that the Doctor can have a chance for some derring-do in order to pad out the ending. Then when the Doctor averts the missile the Bandril leader is suddenly contrite, suggests diplomatic relations to resume, and pledges to explain to the Time Lords. That’s one explanation I would like to hear: ‘Well, we were going to kill your Lord President along with all Karfelons with our bomb, but instead he went on a suicide mission to intercept it and save the Karfelons but blew himself up in the process, so you can’t really blame us now can you?’
And excuse me, but who elected Mykros as the new Maylin?
Now to get my ram chip I’ll say something good about Timelash: Herbert. “Do you realize there is an intergalactic law expressly forbidding stowaways?”  The Doctor really pulled that one out of his hat, and Herbert isn’t buying it either. Herbert, with his constant note-taking, is ever under foot. You’d think after being fooled twice by the overzealous Herbert the Doctor wouldn’t be surprised when he pops up for a third time as tag-along. Herbert’s eagerness could easily become annoying if it were not for the fact that he is in the middle of a flat plot dressed with a dull backdrop and surrounded by bland characters. His boyish charm becomes positively delightful under these circumstances. Even the placid Vena is carried away by him in a detached sort of way. He is a much better alternative to Peri (who by the way spends an inordinate amount of time screaming in our story, although I have to say she is at least dressed for the first time both appropriately and attractively). I’m undecided about how I feel when it is divulged that Herbert is actually HG Wells. It is an intriguing concept; however it also feels slightly like an amateurish ‘wah, wah, wah’ moment.
A couple of other good points to our tale: the tie in with the Third Doctor and the singing androids. These are small little unnecessary details that bring some life to an otherwise listless serial. (However I can only shake my head when the one android is flummoxed by a hand mirror.)
One last word about the Timelash of our title. Again it is an interesting notion to have the Doctor tie a rope around his waist and jump in, but it is totally wasted. There is no sense of impending peril in this venture. Visually it is as flat as the rest of the sets, and I can only wonder why the gang on the other end of the rope are tugging with all their might as though they had a great load on the line when the Doctor is very clearly sitting on an outcropping of crystal taking his weight off of the rope. And then, why the need for the rope at all when first Herbert and then  Mykros hop in without benefit of the lifeline to no ill effect?
And finally, the crystals the Doctor fetches out of the Timelash. “Without the Kontron crystals,” the Doctor states, “we’ve got no chance of getting out of here alive.” Really? Seems like the Doctor went through all of the trouble just to make some elaborate toys. Mykros and the rebels do a decent job of holding off the beekeeper guards on their own while the Doctor has to wait for his gadget to be useful. When it has finally booted up it does take out one android but that’s it. He later uses the other device he constructed to outwit the Borad, but he would have had to have some drastic foresight to know how that would come into play. Ultimately, it is not either of his crystal contraptions that save the day but as discussed before a mirror and a little bullying. (And by the way, how is it that the Timelash is still operational to zap  the Borad off to Earth when the Doctor had Mykros and Sezon take out “every last nut and bolt” in the control panel to create his doohickeys?)
Overall a bad story; but a bad Doctor Who is still Doctor Who, even with the Sixth Doctor and Peri. I have to say, too, that sometimes cheap sets and overacting help rather than hinder ill-conceived plots. Much like The Horns of Nimon, if this had been played serious it could have been dreadfully dreary; a little camp and shoddiness sometimes goes a long way in overshadowing the inadequacies of the script. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m just feeling generous.
As ever, Gary . . .

Monday, August 26, 2013

The Two Doctors

Dear Gary—
Doctor: “I was him; he will be me.”
Jamie: “Who will I be?”
What a breath of fresh air it is to have Jamie McCrimmon back on board for The Two Doctors. Unfortunately we still have Peri along for the ride and she has never been more annoying; her questions are more incessant, her whining more obnoxious, and her stammer more pronounced.
The Two Doctors is this mix of good and bad, and I suppose the good outweighs the bad simply because the good consists of Jamie and the Second Doctor. I gladly sit through the extended running time of the serial just to get more of these two.
The first few moments of The Two Doctors is filmed in black and white with Doctor Two and Jamie in the TARDIS, and for a brief time I can reminisce of better times. The pair remains, even with the advent of color, and the adventure begins. It might not be the better times of old, but it is better than it has been of late.
Then the scene switches to Doctor Six and Peri, with the perpetually petulant Peri complaining that she’s bored on the rather pleasant looking alien planet the Doctor has escorted her to on her three month guided tour of the galaxy.
The first episode of this overlong three episode serial sets up the plot nicely with the Second Doctor and Jamie at the scientific research space station; presents the concepts of Androgum augmentation and the Kartz and Reimer time machine;  introduces the characters of Dastari, Chessene, and Shockeye; establishes the Spanish setting with Oscar and Anita; and reveals the Sontaran involvement. It also pads out its running time with endless shots of the Sixth Doctor and Peri roaming about corridors and climbing up and down scaffolding.
Perhaps because it is overlong, or perhaps because so many scripts of this era suffer similarly, The Two Doctors is full of intriguing elements that are never given their due and stuffed with villains who are redundant. In this case it is the Sontarans who come up with the short end of the stick. The Sontarans are a total afterthought; inserted into the plot and forced to fit where they clearly don’t belong. Why? For the sake of nostalgia? For fan familiarity? If so, why are they so very un-Sontaran? These are not the compact little warriors I know and love. These are tall, lumbering wimps who pander to an augmented Androgum. Stike is continually stating that he should be on the battle front for the vital strike in the Madillon Cluster, so why doesn’t he go already? And since when will a tiny knife rip a hole through Sontaran armor to leave a wound that spouts green blood? So much for the probic vent being the only vulnerability of a Sontaran.
The Sontarans serve no purpose and there is no reason why Chessene needs their allegiance. They do carry out the massacre on the space station, but the massacre also serves no purpose. And the ‘frame up’ of the Time Lords is ludicrous. What possible point is any of that? None of it is explained, fleshed out, or properly tied in with Dastari’s and Chessene’s plans. They couldn’t have picked a more attention-getting or suspicion-arousing means of sneaking out with a time machine if they tried.
Dastari is supposedly a friend of the Doctor; a reasoned scientist; a brilliant mind. Yet he goes along with the heavy handed and deadly plans of an Androgum. It is suggested that he is so swept up in this god-maker role that he turns a blind eye to the obvious (“I have no doubt you could augment an earwig to the point where it understood nuclear physics, but it’d still be a very stupid thing to do!”). It is an effective scene at the end when Dastari witnesses Chessene falling upon the blood spilt by the Doctor and he realizes that what the Doctor warned him of is true: “She’s still an Androgum; you can’t change nature.” But really, the senseless slaughter of “forty of the finest scientific minds ever assembled in one place” didn’t tip him off? Or the casual murder of an eighty year old deaf woman?
Then there is the bizarre attempt to turn Doctor Two into an Androgum consort for Chessene. Dastari must really be caught up in his monster maker mentality to go along with that one. And if Chessene wants an Androgum hubby, what of poor old Shockeye? Oh, right, he doesn’t have the Time Lord gene that allows for symbiotic time travel. Between the misinformation Doctor Six feeds Stike, and the presumed information on the part of Chessene, and the half information provided by the Doctor to Peri, we get a nebulous explanation of the Time Lords’ ability to time travel.
I don’t know what all the fuss is about with allowing Androgums or any other race to have the ability to travel in time. How does this make them more of a threat than the ability to travel in space? They could spread their barbarity through all of space just as easily as through time, yet they haven’t. Why? So they travel backward or forward a few centuries from their present. Now what? Are they any more equipped to conquer than they are in their here and now?  And back to Stike the Sontaran; he wants to get to a physical location—the Madillon Cluster—not to a different time zone; his battle is raging now (not to mention the Sontaran love of war, and to go back to alter time in such a way as to win before the battle even begins does not strike me as the Sontaran way, at least not as originally conceived).
But all of this is really just an excuse to allow the Second Doctor to finally break free of his confines and run amok with Shockeye (“they look quite pally”). This brings me to Shockeye. Shockeye is brilliantly conceived and acted and twice as disgusting. Don’t view The Two Doctors while eating. It’s hard for any depiction of food on camera to spoil my appetite, but The Two Doctors succeeds where better cinematic fare fears to tread.
It also leads to more padding while they all crisscross their way through the streets of Seville. However this filler is much more enjoyable to watch.
Until they meet up, that is. “Good night, sweet prince.” Oscar has to die just so the Sixth Doctor can get in his Lennie Briscoe wisecrack. He’s not quite through, either. The real zinger comes after he kills Shockeye: “Your just desserts.” It is not the killing I mind; it is the unfeeling flippancy. I called the Fourth Doctor out on this in The Ribos Operation, but that was an anomaly for him. With the Sixth Doctor it is becoming an alarming trend.
Yet even with the contrast of the Second Doctor, I’m finding that I do not dislike the Sixth Doctor as much as anticipated. He can hold his own despite the handicap of Peri, below par scripts, and some rather disturbing character traits.
“Well, what’s the use of a good quotation if you can’t change it?” After a dearth of good quotations from the Fifth Doctor, Doctor Six is starting to ramp up the memorable dialogue.  Or how about: “It is the province of knowledge to speak, and the privilege of wisdom to listen.” (If only Peri would take this to heart.) And then there is the heartfelt reaction upon learning (so he thinks) that the universe will come to an end. Peri adopts her own flippant attitude towards the news, but the Doctor waxes poetic: “She can’t comprehend the scale of it all. Eternal blackness. No more sunsets. No more gumblejacks. Never more a butterfly.”
“He’s not the Doctor I know,” Jamie says of Doctor Six upon first meeting him. No, he is not the Doctor I know either, but he is the Doctor. For better or worse. Two Doctors; Doctor Two and Doctor Six.
And so, Gary, I will lay some flowers on Algernon’s grave as I send this out . . .

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Mark of the Rani

Dear Gary—
Following up from Vengeance on Varos, which is a pretty good script but fairly unwatchable, we now have Mark of the Rani, a so-so script that is fairly entertaining. I think I’ll go with the Rani on this one.
To start, it has some fabulous locations. The relationship between the Doctor and Peri is as caustic as ever, but for some reason the countryside tends to blunt the edges a bit. I can’t understand half of what most of the extras are saying, but the gist of things can be gained from the action, and the cobblestoned streets and rustic buildings lend the perfect tone to set the stage. The wardrobe is quite good as well, except for the awful getup Peri is wearing. She looks like she is auditioning for a high school production of Snow White. And she still has those pink heels that announce her presence miles away.
Then there is the Rani, a great new antagonist for the Doctor. The Rani is an exiled, amoral Time Lord; a scientist with no heart. As the Doctor describes her, “There’s no place for the soul in her scheme of things.” And she does not suffer fools lightly. “He’d get dizzy if he tried to walk in a straight line,” she says of the Master, and she scoffs at his offer of help, “You and the Doctor are a well matched pair of pests.” She wants nothing to do with either; she just wants to be left alone to conduct her experiments in peace. It is a refreshing contrast to the Master’s increasingly preposterous attempts to take over the universe.
The Master’s latest attempt involves harnessing the brain power of George Stephenson, Michael Faraday, Thomas Telford, and Humphry Davy to name a few. With “the talents of these geniuses” the Master somehow plans to transform Earth into a power base. Not a likely prospect. Geniuses, yes. Talented, yes. A few among many geniuses and talents to have graced the Earth. There is no doubt a collaboration of such minds could achieve much. But conquer the universe? The Master is really stretching here. How about this as a cosmos changing think tank: the Master and the Rani. How can a handful of Earthlings, even the greatest of intellects, match up against two Time Lords?
The Mark of the Rani really misses the mark on this one. The Master and the Rani would have made for a formidable power couple.
Instead we have the Rani expressing nothing but contempt for the Master and the Master earning every bit of that derision. It is very entertaining, but it disappoints as well. The Master has always been vaguely laughable as a villain; now we have an intelligent, experienced, competent Time Lord pointing out the obvious: “You’re unbalanced; no wonder the Doctor always outwits you.”
And yet time after time, defeat after defeat, the Master continually springs back none the worse for wear. It has happened so often the show has stopped trying to come up with explanations. Apparently dead at the end of Planet of Fire, he shows up in The Mark of the Rani alive and well. “I’m indestructible, the Master tells the Rani. “The whole universe knows that.” The Doctor Who audience knows it as well, no reason to insult our intelligence with sketchy and inadequate details.
We also know what drives the Master. His purported reason for being in the 19thC village of Killingworth is to take over the assemblage of illustrious personages as previously outlined. However the Rani puts her finger on his ulterior motive: “I know why you’re here. I saw the Doctor.” The Master is the epitome of the little boy chasing after the little girl on the playground to pull her pigtails. As long as the Doctor is kicking about the universe the Master won’t be far behind tossing the TARDIS down mineshafts.
“But first things first. I have a death to arrange,” the Master states, leaving the Rani and his grand scheme behind as he pursues his true purpose. Except that he never seriously intends to kill the Doctor. If he does, why not use the TCE (which by the way no longer shrinks people but vaporizes them)? Instead he sends some half crazed villagers to do the deed, who of course fail in their attempt.
The half crazed villagers are the work of the Rani, an aggressive byproduct of her extraction of a certain brain chemical she needs for her own use back on Miasimia Goria. She has been using periods of turmoil in Earth’s history, currently the Luddite riots, as cover for her nefarious deeds. As far as I can tell, this is the greater threat facing the Doctor, not the half-hearted excuse the Master concocts for being in the village at this time. None of it is really a danger to the universe or even the planet. The two rogue Time Lords are more nuisances than anything, although deadly.
The plot quickly falls apart. It seems merely an excuse to get the three Time Lords together and to use the period pieces and location shoots to advantage rather than to tell a coherent story. Take the Master’s flimsy plan, for example. Ostensibly he wants to utilize the minds of the great men gathering at the bequest of George Stephenson, but suddenly he decides it would be a good idea to kill Stephenson. Then there is Luke who is under the control of the Master, yet when the Doctor enquires after Stephenson (who has been told by Luke to go to the booby trapped Redfern Dell) Luke passes on the opportunity to send the Doctor after him. The Doctor has to stumble on the Master’s intended message for him by luckily catching Stephenson before he leaves for the Dell. And if Luke knows that the Dell is a deadly trap, why does he take Peri there to go flower picking? I am only assuming Luke knows about the trap, but why else would he send Stephenson off on that fool’s errand after Faraday?
What is with this minefield in the Dell anyway? If the intent is to kill the Doctor, why not use one of the many controlled villagers (although granted they did fail at the task to begin our tale) or the TCE or the weapon Rani wields, rather than setting up a trap that anyone can stumble into, even their own minions? And mines that turn people into trees? When tree Luke grabs Peri I expect him to start chastising her for picking his apples. And how exactly does the Doctor even know where Redfern Dell is? And when all is said and done and the leaves have settled, the Doctor departs knowing that there are several active mines remaining and he never does a thing about it.
This carelessness on the part of the Doctor reflects a trend in the show itself towards gratuitous violence. “Guns can seriously damage your health, you know,” the Doctor says in order to get in his preaching of the day, yet the serial itself offers up at least two deaths that are completely needless. One miner falls down a shaft to his death, which is part of the plot; Luke and two more miners are turned into trees, and although ludicrous this too develops the plot; the Master dispatches a couple people and a dog with his TCE, again plot driven; but there is no excuse for the murder of Josh and his fellow attendant. As rationale for killing them the Master tells the Rani, “You can hardly take them out onto the streets.” Why not? The streets are already overrun with the Rani controlled and rampaging villagers. Who’s to notice two more? Or why not simply tell them to stay put? These two deaths at least are pointless and add nothing to the story.
Also pointless is the wild goose chase that leads Luke to his wooden fate. Peri gets to show off her botany skills and Luke gets to be transformed; however, the ultimate goal of finding the right sort of herb to concoct a sedative for the sleep deprived villagers is rendered meaningless when the Doctor produces the vial of brain chemical he has filched from the Rani. And again the questions—except, “Have you ever tried asking the Doctor a question?” Ravensworth simply takes the vial with no directions as to dosage or application.
Despite the squandering of the Master, the gaping holes, and the senseless slaughter, The Mark of the Rani is enjoyable. Kate O’Mara as the Rani can take much of the credit. The Master could have been dispensed with and the Rani’s despicable actions dealt with more directly, but since Doctor Who persists on bringing the Master back to life for one implausible scheme after another, it is refreshing to have a no-nonsense character embrace the marginalization the Master has been fated to by the show. It is painful to see the Master dealt such a humiliating role, but it is also a long overdue acknowledgment of his futility. The Rani’s TARDIS, by the way, is also a stand out (and interesting to note that the Doctor’s TARDIS key fits the Rani’s).
The Doctor has his moments as well. I especially like when he is carried away by childish glee as he aids the underutilized George Stephenson in his workshop. Unfortunately the wet blanket Peri arrives to drag him away to deal with the real plot.
The Mark of the Rani is full of some excellent elements—characters, plot points, locations—but none of them are fully developed and few of them mesh together into a cohesive whole. However, it does end with one of the best lines, which is another acknowledgment of a recent Doctor Who trend. When asked what they do in the TARDIS, the Doctor answers, “Argue, mainly.”
With that the Doctor and Peri fly away in the TARDIS, leaving the Rani and the Master in yet another Master-in-peril-by-hands-of-the-Doctor-but-he’ll-be-back wizardry. George Stephenson, the assemblage of great minds, the booby trapped Dell, the dead or transmogrified villagers—all forgotten.
Four stories in, Gary. I’m trying my best to stay positive, and so far it’s not as bad as anticipated. Here’s hoping for the future . . .

Monday, August 19, 2013

Vengeance on Varos

Dear Gary—
Watching Vengeance on Varos is a thoroughly unpleasant experience. That’s a shame because it is the best script to date of the Colin Baker era (which isn’t saying too much since there have only been two others). The worst thing about Vengeance on Varos is that it becomes the very thing it is purporting to criticize, that is exploitative, voyeuristic, reality based TV, or the modern day version of the Colosseum. The whole serial could be one of the shows packaged and exported as entertainment by the government of Varos.
What makes this possible is the Doctor. It would be one thing if he and Peri simply landed on Varos and got caught up as unwitting participants in the freak show on screen. It is another, however, when the Doctor at times seems to take relish in his role, and ultimately he does nothing to bring these atrocities to an end. After viewing Vengeance on Varos I almost feel as if I should be giving my thumbs up or thumbs down vote along with the rest of the populace of Varos.
The Doctor begins this particular adventure on a rather dubious note, giving up when the TARDIS runs out of energy and materializes “into actual and temporal void.” He pulls up a chair and sits in a selfish snit of resignation. This is the second time he has obligated Peri to a lifetime of nothingness, the first being when he vowed to turn hermit at the onset of his regeneration.
I have little sympathy for Peri, however. She spends the first few minutes of our story haranguing the Doctor with a list of things he has done wrong, including burning her dinner the night before. Peri did invite herself along, after all. She’s looking for a three month vacation to replace the Morocco jaunt she missed out on (those nice English guys she intended on traveling with should breathe a sigh of relief) and expects the Doctor to act as tour guide to the universe for her. Now the Doctor and his companions have usually shared a good natured ribbing from time to time, but never has the Doctor been subjected to such relentless ridicule as these last two generations have suffered. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Doctor isn’t acting out this latest fit of childishness in retaliation.
He soon gets over it, though, when Peri finds the TARDIS manual and the Doctor whisks them off to Varos in search of the rare and precious mineral Zeiton-7 he needs for repairs.
Varos is a truly vile place and the viciousness in the air seems to rub off a little on the Doctor. While he doesn’t directly cause the death of the two attendants in the acid bath--one accidently stumbles in and the other is pulled in by his partner as he struggles with the Doctor--the whole scene is played for laughs, capped by the unfeeling “You’ll forgive me if I don’t join you,” by the Doctor as he leaves the two corpses to be eaten away in the bubbling acid. This is strictly done for the TV viewing audience.
The audience, our Greek Chorus of Arak and Etta, is everything that is right and everything that is wrong about Vengeance on Varos. This bickering pair, impassively commenting on the torture they view on screen, is a biting commentary on human nature. Unfortunately, with the Doctor playing up to them the commentary loses its bite and we are invited to laugh along with them.
That is not to say that laughter is bad, just not at the expense of human lives. This serial could have benefited from some appropriately placed humor.
The Doctor is curious about the voyeuristic nature of the Dome, commenting on the omnipresent cameras, but he never condemns. And he never takes the opportunity to speak to that slavish audience, enlightening them as to their untold wealth in Zeiton-7 or urging them to rebel against their cruel and tyrannical society. A little righteous indignation would be welcome here. Doctors One through Four would have been full of it; I’m uncertain of the Fifth; the Sixth just makes sure he gets in his one-liners.
The Doctor does reveal his knowledge regarding the value of Zeiton-7, but not until near the end and only to the Governor.
The Governor might seem reasoned and cultured, but he is not “a bit better than these other brutes” as Peri surmises. He does not have the welfare of his people at heart; he is only looking after his own hide in this. He’ll let the dust settle, I’m sure, before looking around to see how much of the 20 credits he has negotiated for the Zeiton-7 he can pocket for himself. The people of Varos, the Araks and Ettas, will be no better off.
The other brutes, and there are quite a few on Varos, aren’t so lucky. Sil is the cream of the crop. So disgustingly repulsive that Varos almost deserves him. Sil has been holding Varos hostage to his company’s demands. However since Zeiton-7 is supposedly as rare and precious as we are led to believe, I can only wonder how his company has retained the monopoly and kept all rival companies at bay. He clearly is fearful that these companies are poised to swoop in. Why have none of them ever contacted the ruling elite on Varos? Or are the ruling elite so corrupt that they also know the true value of their resource but are keeping it to themselves and profiting on the side? And there clearly is a ruling elite over and above the poor sap of a Governor. But Sil is abruptly halted, not by the Doctor, not by the Governor, not by the people of Varos. Sil is halted by his own company. In a last minute Hail Mary of a conclusion, Sil receives communication from his company that a new source of Zeiton-7 has been located, and rather than lessening the value of Varos’ supply of this mineral, for some convenient reason this means that Varos can now ask any price it wants. I’m disappointed that Sil doesn’t decompose or melt down into his vat of water ala The Collector in The Sun Makers. He is merely rendered insignificant by communiquĂ©.
Then there is the double dealing Chief Officer and the sadistic Quillam. The Chief Officer is sufficiently under-the-radar duplicitous, working both equally repellant sides to no good. Quillam, however, is too much of a ranting Sharaz Jek wannabe. Both are killed swiftly and horrifically by the Doctor with no fanfare or remorse, with two just-doing-their-job guards killed along with them for good measure. Makes for good ratings, though. (The Doctor actually has Jondar rig up and execute the death trap so he can keep his hands clean.)
All of this bleak grimness is played out in a funhouse of death broadcast for the complacent pleasure of a downtrodden people.
The Doctor’s arrival and contribution to this snuff film mentality, though, is what livens things up. His death by acid bath and poison vine, not to mention the gratuitous death by laser for a hapless guard early on, trumps the rather lame hallucinations that are the norm on Brutish Broadcasting Corp One. The dreaded ‘Purple Zone’ offers up a giant fly as the best it can offer. I’m sorry, but with four of them, just take off your coat (OK, Mr. Sean Connery Jr. only has his bare torso and Peri only has, well, a barely covered torso, but the Doctor at least could spare his clown overcoat) and start flicking away at it. Or, just close your eyes and walk past as they subsequently do. This is followed by the frighteningly lifelike green lights. Scary stuff. Then there are the Jondar, Areta, and Doctor holograms beckoning our heroes on to their certain doom. Again I’m sorry, but if I was confronted with a creepy smiling version of myself waving me onward, I would turn tail and run, not smile as though on some kind of acid trip and stumble ahead into the unknown.
No wonder Arak and Etta are so bored by the proceedings. Even the torture at the beginning doesn’t make for very compelling viewing. I suppose the bare-chested Jondar is what keeps Etta glued to the set, but the game of laser tag would lose its appeal real fast for the majority.
The Doctor's seeming death scene in the fake desert is effective, but I have to wonder if a few moments of thinking you are dying of thirst would really kill a person. It obviously doesn't kill the Doctor.
The fake hanging also has potential for some riveting TV, except it is never aired. This is simply staged by the Governor to compel the Doctor to talk; which he does, but only after realizing that the event isn’t being broadcast. This is news for elite ears only, not for the masses.
What I want to know is: where are the directors and producers of this repugnant programming? There must be a booth somewhere in which the decision is being made to cut from camera one in the Punishment Dome to camera two in the Purple Zone to camera three in the Cannibals In Their Nappies District.
Just to add to the bleakness of the tale, we have the transmogrifier turning Peri into a bird woman and Areta into a reptile. This, too, is hastily and conveniently dealt with. A quick shot or two at the machine and magically the two revert back to their normal bodies. The wonders of television.
The base perverseness of the former penal colony that is Varos is never confronted by the Doctor, however. The Governor, no longer under fear of his life at the hands of the voters (not sure how or why—Just because Quillam and the Chief Officer are dead? Just because they are getting full price for Zeiton-7? Just because some machinery was blown up? Just because the Governor says so? The constitution is suddenly overturned and no more voting?), promises a “glorious tomorrow.”
To the average citizen of Varos, all this means is an end to voting and to their so-called entertainment.
Etta: “It’s all changed. We’re free.”
Arak: “Are we?”
Etta: “Yes.”
Arak: “What shall we do?”
Etta: “Dunno.”
I’ll have to give this one a split decision, both thumbs up and thumbs down, as I send this out, Gary, awaiting your vote . . .

Friday, August 16, 2013

Attack of the Cybermen

Dear Gary—
“You never did intend to do that diamond job.” That’s what’s wrong with Attack of the Cybermen, as it is with a number of recent stories: script confusion. Our attention is focused on this supposed diamond heist for a good part of the opening episode only to have it go nowhere. Just as the character of Russell the undercover cop goes nowhere. Introduced and then disposed of to no apparent purpose.
This is done on a larger scale with the characters of Bates and Stratton. We never know who these guys are, how they got to Telos, what they are doing there, or why they are there. We come in on the execution end of their escape plan from a Cyberman work gang and spend quite a bit of time with this pair on the run. Bates is continually shouting at Stratton about how their plan has gone awry, and the two expend a bit of effort to get a hold of a Cyberman head so that Stratton can disguise himself and they can enter Cyber Control. But then they meet up with Lytton and this grand scheme of theirs is abandoned and the two are subsequently killed. This strand of story has potential but eventually leads us down a dead end. Waste of time.
The story can’t make up its mind what it wants to be about. By the time we get to the real heart of the tale it has to be rushed to a conclusion with no chance to explore, no depth, no subtlety.
Peri isn’t too sure of the Doctor, either, despite his claim of, “At this very moment I am as stable as you will ever see me.” And even the TARDIS is confused now that the Doctor has fixed the chameleon circuit (for shame!) and can’t make up its mind what it wants to be even though it has landed in the familiar Totter’s Lane junk yard. This is a nice nod to Doctor Who history, but then it is negated when the TARDIS changes from its beloved police box form into a fancy dresser.
Perhaps the TARDIS is making a wry commentary on the Doctor’s wardrobe, not to mention Peri’s pink disaster. I’m sure the dads and young lads are going gaga, but the poor girl looks highly uncomfortable in that too small spandex leotard. The Doctor declares, “I suddenly feel conspicuous,” but I’m sure Peri is feeling self conscious in her own getup. As for her high heels—I swear they are mic’ed. Clomping along after the Doctor they make her sound as graceful as a hippopotamus.
The Cybermen of our story have a few problems as well, with at least one appearing to have overindulged a bit. (Do Cybermen eat, I wonder?) There are two groups of Cybermen, one headed by the Cyber Leader in 1985 London and one headed by the Cyber Controller on Telos in the future. These two groups, past and future, must somehow be in contact. It’s a bit confusing and brings to mind the dreadful Dalek adventure Lytton was also involved with, Resurrection of the Daleks, in which there was a time corridor linking past Daleks on Earth with future Daleks on a space ship. In our present story the Cybermen only seem to have a communication link and not a physical link, although I suppose they could have arrived in the time ship referenced back on Telos. If so, the ship dropped these Cyber folk off in the sewers of 1985 London and then left them there. It is not until the Doctor shows up with the TARDIS that they are able to get back.
If the Leader et al were sent to Earth from Telos, I suppose it was to rig up something to arrange for the collision with Halley’s Comet. If so, shouldn’t the Doctor be concentrating on that? And if not, what were they doing there? Or if they were there for that purpose and didn’t complete the mission, why return to Telos before they are through?
As far as I can tell, about the only reason to have the Leader and his gang is so that there can be scenes of running through sewers on Earth and to stick in some references to past serials. The story would have been far better served if it had been set entirely on Telos so that the real meat of the plot could have been developed rather than including all of these distractions during the first half that lead us nowhere. Presumably we are treated to the Leader of the Sewer Pack in order to reintroduce Lytton, but couldn’t Lytton just as easily have gotten to Telos on his own? Did he really need this convoluted way of luring the Doctor to 1985 Earth, which by the way is by no means certain of success and he only lucked out by contrivance of the script, and then risking the wrath of the Cybermen who he somehow knows are lurking in those tunnels in order to manipulate them into hijacking the TARDIS to take them all to the waiting future on Telos?
And really, let’s face it. If Lytton is actually working for the Cryons, wouldn’t it be far easier for him to contact the Doctor directly, explain the situation, work with him to take the TARDIS to Telos and defeat the Cybermen, disable or destroy the confiscated time vehicle, maybe free the prisoners in the Cyber work camp rather than abandoning them to their fate as they ultimately do?
“I don’t think I’ve misjudged anyone quite as badly as I did Lytton,” the Doctor says ruefully at the end. However I’m not going to berate the Doctor on this one like Peri (“You never gave him a chance.”). I’m not even sure that Lytton is misjudged by the Doctor. So he was working for the Cryons. He’s a mercenary. Mercenaries work for the pay. We are never given any indication that he is working out of the kindness of his heart. He could just as easily be working for the Cybermen, and as previously mentioned he never gives the Doctor any reason to think otherwise.
Lytton’s fate is gruesome, yes. The whole concept of the Cyber conversion and of conversions gone wrong, as illustrated by the ill-fated Bates and Stratton, is horrifying (much more so than the laughable, cartoon machinery as depicted in New Who). I wish that this aspect of the Cybermen had been given the screen time it deserved. Neither this nor Lytton’s character, however, are ever developed to a point to justify the Doctor’s self flagellation.
Even if Lytton is aiding the Cryons for noble purposes, how do we know this is any better? What do we know of the Cryons? They are the native inhabitants of Telos, they can’t survive in temperatures above freezing (why or how they developed on Telos under those conditions is unfathomable), and they were all but wiped out by the Cybermen. Does this make them innately good? We are never given sufficient reason to side with the Cryons other than that they are opposed to the Cybermen. In a war between Cybermen and Daleks, would the Doctor use the same criteria?
One point in their favor is that the Cryons are resigned to their fate (or so they say) and are simply trying to stop the Cybermen from changing history even though this will seal the Cryon’s own doom. However, this whole history changing plotline is flawed. The Cybermen want to destroy Earth in 1985 to avoid the destruction of Mondas in 1986. This will not work. Earth did not destroy Mondas in 1986. The Cybermen destroyed Mondas by absorbing too much energy from Earth. If Earth were not there, the Cybermen would have tried absorbing energy from another source and again blown their home planet up. If the Cybermen of our present story truly want to save Mondas, they need to tell 1986 Cybermen to develop another means of obtaining the energy they require. And since they are already in communication with Cybermen on Earth in 1985 and apparently also have a ship on the dark side of the moon, can’t they just tell them this and be done with it?
But that seems to be the problem of late with both the Cybermen and the Daleks. The show uses them as shortcuts to action; it throws nostalgia reference points and old clips at the audience and thinks that this makes up for the lack of continuity in the actual characters and their history. Here is a chance to really explore and embellish Cyber History but Attack of the Cybermen utterly fails on this front.
Instead we get a muddle of Cybermen (who by the way are much too easily killed) from different places and times with laughable plans. Are they really going to destroy their adopted home planet just to study the effects of the explosion on the atmosphere, while at the same time trying to stop their past selves from destroying their original home planet?
And I just have to laugh, Gary. I guess the loud pink was too much for the Cyber brain to take in and they make Peri change. I can’t imagine that the Cybermen would so uncharacteristically care or even notice that a human might be cold in the outfit she is wearing. At least Peri finally changes into something slightly more sensible, although I doubt it is going to keep her very warm. The jumpsuit she dons might protect against crisp autumn air, but it’s not going to go very far in preventing frostbite in subfreezing temperatures.
One final word, Gary. The sonic screwdriver had been destroyed back in the Fifth Doctor story The Visitation, with the complaint against it being it had been relied upon too heavily as a magic wand. So what does Doctor Who do in Attack of the Cybermen? It needs a magic wand and it pulls a sonic lance out of the Doctor’s pocket.
“It didn’t go very well, did it,” the Doctor summarizes at the end. “Earth’s safe,” Peri offers, “ S-s-so is history a-a-and the web of time.” I never felt Earth or the web of time were in much danger, though, and can only agree with the Doctor. It didn’t go very well, but not on the “personal level” he talks of. The Doctor did just fine. This was a fundamental failure in the script. With bad scripts, it is hard to gain sympathy for the new Doctor no matter how much I try. At least the TARDIS has resumed its customary shape, and kudos to Doctor number six for the fond pat of recognition he gives it.
Here’s hoping, Gary, as ever . . .

Monday, August 12, 2013

The Twin Dilemma

Dear Gary—
“Yuck.”
That about sums up The Twin Dilemma. More words of wisdom from Peri: “It’s terrible.”
I find it oddly appropriate, however, that this initial Colin Baker Sixth Doctor serial is a patchwork quilt of awfulness.
The worst of the lot are the twins of our title. These Children of the Corn rejects might have their father inexplicably cowed, but they really are rather pathetic. I can’t imagine why some intergalactic space agency has a special interest in the pair, but someone in authority sensibly calls an abrupt halt to that plotline early on. Unfortunately our story is stuck with these brats. Apparently they are a couple of mathematical geniuses, but Adric did a better job of convincing me of that than Romulus and Remus do.
Azmael, going under the alias of Edgeworth for some unknown reason, kidnaps this less than dynamic duo and for better or worse our dilemma begins.
It begins with a newly regenerated and highly erratic Doctor.
“No place for space. Nothing. Nothing but the grinding engines of the universe, the crushing boredom of eternity.” This is the fifth time the Doctor has undergone this “natural metamorphosis” and it is beginning to wear on him. The first three times were relatively uneventful, the fourth laid him out for a spell, but now the enormity of the “grinding engines” and “crushing boredom” are becoming very real for him. Is it any wonder so many Time Lords succumb to insanity? I think ahead to New Who and the Master’s description of the drum beat in his head . . . . But I digress.
“Regeneration in my case is a swift but volcanic experience,” the Doctor tells a worried Peri. I have to admit, Gary, that I rather like Peri in these opening sequences. “I have to live with it,” she says of his new countenance, clearly unhappy with the change from the “almost young” Fifth Doctor. Her surly reaction to his regeneration is very apropos of her character and for a brief period she is tolerable.
I even find the Sixth Doctor tolerable for a one serial regeneration induced psychotic episode. His mood swings, sudden fits of violence, and acts of cowardice are all forgivable in this context. He still manages during sporadic moments of sanity to resolve the difficulties faced in The Twin Dilemma. He does play it a bit over the top, however. Maybe it is the clown outfit he chooses, or the mediocre and somewhat loose production, but he acts more buffoon than hero.
What I find most off-putting about this characterization is Colin Baker’s emphasis on personal pronouns when delivering his more arrogant lines: “For a minute you almost had me worried there;” and “It may take . . . even me . . . a few days.” His persistence in punctuating the lines in this way is unnecessary and turns what could be justified conceit into something that is inflated and suspect. If memory serves, he keeps up this embellishment during the rest of his tenure which is one of the main reasons I have placed him at the bottom of my list. I can overlook it to some extent in this premier serial due to his regenerative psychosis, but if it does persist as I suspect, he will retain that ranking. (Interesting that my dislike of Peri and the Sixth Doctor stems from irritating speech patterns for both.)
“A peri is a good and beautiful fairy in Persian mythology. The interesting thing is, before it became good, it was evil.” With this statement the Doctor lunges at Peri and begins to choke the life out of her. This scene is shocking to say the least, and it is also most certainly ill advised. The Doctor’s instability has already been established so there is no need for this violent proof of it. The fact that it is not only violent but murderous is so deeply alien to the Doctor that it undermines everything we have come to expect of him.  “I have an inbuilt resistance to any form of violence,” he assures Peri when informed of this latest fit. It makes him sound like an android with a prime directive programmed in that has somehow been bypassed.
If the intent was to show that the Doctor does have a homicidal side buried deep within his psyche; if the intent was to illustrate a dark and dangerous edge to the Doctor; if the intent was to elicit an element of fear; why did they dress him up in a clown outfit? But that isn’t the only thing weakening this scene. It is immediately blunted when Peri puts this incident behind her and loyally follows along behind the Doctor, even briefly resigning herself to a life of hermitage, ministering unto the Doctor’s needs. This is a young girl who has gone off with a strange man she barely knows, she is on an alien planet with no means of returning home other than through him, and he has just tried to kill her. This girl is not very bright, she has a masochistic side, or the death threat was not really serious and merely a gratuitous gimmick.
This is when Peri starts to become irritating again. Knowing this man is unstable, all she can do is whine, ask continual questions, berate, and contradict him. I think she is deliberately trying to goad the Doctor; perhaps she is masochistic after all. Let’s take a look at one particular scene:
Peri: “Oh, let’s get out of here.”
Doctor: “The perpetual cry of all cowards. We must investigate.”
Peri is being her typical difficult self and the Doctor is in one of his saner moments. Peri therefore decides to mess with him, playing on his fears when she knows he is prone to fits of cowardice:
Peri: “But do you think that wise? There could be enormous danger, even worse.”
Doctor: “Worse? Yes, yes, well perhaps you’re right. The purpose of reconnaissance, after all, is to gather information, not to finish up face down in a pool of one’s own blood. Especially blood as noble as mine. We’ve found out what we want to know.”
Peri: “There is one thing, though.”
Now Peri is really sticking it to him.
Doctor: “What?”
Peri: “The children Lieutenant Lang mentioned.”
Wow. Backtracking on herself just to further oppose the Doctor. Undermining his confidence, getting him worked up, and then challenging him to continue on.
“You know my current state of mind,” the Doctor points out, and yes, she certainly does know his current state of mind, yet she does everything in her power to provoke him.
In a later scene she expresses relief at finding out the Doctor is alive when she thought him dead. “I-i-i-it’s called compassion, Doctor; i-it’s the difference that remains between us.” This is an obviously scripted line that falls flat when she stammers it out, especially given the little concern or sympathy she has expressed towards him throughout.
I think my own sympathy for the Sixth Doctor is growing just a little.
“And kindly refrain from addressing me as Doc.” With that line harkening back to the First Doctor my sympathy grows even more.
Despite the handicaps of a contrary companion and of “behaving like a manic barometer,” the Doctor manages to navigate through this muddled plot and come out a winner. He is about the only one who gives a good accounting for himself.
Hugo and his Technicolor Dreamcoat talks a good game but spends most of his time knocked unconscious or stuck in gastropod slime, although he does come through at the end. Parenthetically, I guess I can’t blame him for deciding to quit his Interplanetary Pursuit Squadron seeing as they had abandoned him to his fate, but I doubt that Jaconda will have much to offer him (unless he is into birdmen). And while I’m on the subject, why do the Jacondans need outsiders to lead them—first Asmael and now presumably Hugo?
As for Asmael, for a Time Lord he is pretty thick headed. I suppose being as old and on his last generation as he is, he might have some excuse. But really, he didn’t realize what would happen to the two smaller planets when moved closer in orbit to the sun? But then all of the planet moving business is farfetched and extremely shaky science to begin with. I don’t know, Gary. I’m not a scientist. But the theory that placing the planets in the same orbit only in different time zones—wouldn’t they eventually catch up to each other? Planet Two is in the same place as Planet One except on Tuesday instead of Monday. Planet Three is in the same place except on Wednesday. That’s all well and good on Monday, but what happens when Tuesday dawns on Planet One?
The makeup for the Jacondan birdmen is quite good, actually. Noma is a decent henchman and Drak is noble but doomed. The Chamberlain is pitiful and I’m not sure what purpose his character serves.
Then there is Mestor. What can I say? Another in a long line of woefully realized Doctor Who monsters.
The Doctor, meantime, rescues Lang from his shipwreck, manages to escape from the locked room set to self destruct, locates the kidnapped twins, discerns the fatal flaw in the planet moving scheme, reasons out Mestor’s true intentions, and kills Mestor thus saving Jaconda and the universe. Not a bad outing for his first go. I also have to mention that his touching farewell to the dying Asmael is full of the compassion that Peri talks of but fails to practice.
“And I would suggest, Peri,” the Doctor advises, “that you wait a little before criticizing my new persona. You may well find it isn’t quite as disagreeable as you think.” Perhaps I will take a little of the Doctor’s advice myself, Gary.  “Whatever else happens,” he continues, “I am the Doctor, whether you like it or not.”
I still can’t say that I necessarily like it, but I would go so far as to say I don’t dislike it as much as I thought.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Peter Davison

Dear Gary—
Now I know why, when I first did my rankings of the Doctors, I couldn’t remember enough about Peter Davison to knowledgably rate him. It is because there is really nothing distinctive or remarkable about this Fifth Doctor. He is more or less a place holder. It’s not necessarily Peter Davison’s fault. If he had been given scripts of the quality of his last throughout his run it might have been a different story. Or if he had been given companions that were truly companionable. Again, it’s not necessarily the fault of any of the actors but of the characterizations they were handed.
Peter Davison was saddled with the role of playground monitor or scolding parent through most of his opening serials followed by that of a reluctant tour guide. Perhaps that is why I find Earthshock to be the highlight of his run. Earthshock acknowledges the dysfunctional nature of TARDIS relations, but then it digs deep to uncover the true essence of friendship buried therein. The Visitation also attempts to address the quarrelsome nature of the companions, but little was followed up with this in later serials. Overall the Fifth Doctor was never allowed to get really close with any one companion.
Some of the best moments during Davison’s run are provided by the return of past companion Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart in Mawdryn Undead and in The Five Doctors, where he is also joined by a delightful Sarah Jane Smith, not to mention Patrick Troughton and Jon Pertwee as Doctors Two and Three. In a number of other stories, despite the plethora of regular companions to choose from, the Doctor teams up with a guest actor for the bulk of the script.
Without an established friendship to develop character, Peter Davison isn’t given much to work with in the scripts handed him. He even loses his sonic screwdriver. In writing about past Doctor stories I almost always had multiple memorable Doctor quotes. In writing about the Davison era, however, I found much of the time that there was very little to quote. In fact there were many entries in which I merely mentioned the Doctor in passing. This Fifth Doctor often finds himself peripheral to the plot.
As with any Doctor, there are quite a few good tales told mixed in with some bad. There is a wealth of returning monsters along with some decent new entries. Some of my favorite Davison stories are actually some of the worst—Time-Flight, Terminus, and Warriors of the Deep for example. Taking a page from MST 3000, I embrace the badness. Some, however, are just bad, like Resurrection of the Daleks.
The Caves of Androzani, on the other hand, is one of the best of any Doctor. Too bad that the Fifth Doctor was given so little in the way of characterization preceding this story, resulting in a more detached attitude on my part while viewing the heart racing dangers the Doctor faces.
Peter Davison’s Doctor is nice, pleasant, gentlemanly—bland. About the most singular thing about him is the celery on his lapel, which goes unexplained until the final curtain. This might be the crux of the matter; the Fifth Doctor remains just as much a question mark as those that adorn his collars and bracers. As I have mentioned before, the answer to the original question asked so long ago by Ian—“Doctor? Doctor Who?”—is William Hartnell himself; and it is subsequently answered by each new Doctor in turn. With Peter Davison, however, there is never sufficient justification for a similar response. It is as though during his run the question is more important than the answer.
 At the time I wrote my Jon Pertwee retrospective I said I was tempted to move him up a notch above Davison but was reserving judgment. Now that I have completed Davison I am definitely flipping their order in my rankings, moving him down to eight and Pertwee up to seven. He might even be in danger of moving down another notch after I review all of the McCoy years.
I feel a little sad, Gary, in stating this. I like Peter Davison, I like his Doctor. There just isn’t enough to him to justify ranking him in any other way. I look back on his seasons and it is the stories or the monsters or the guest stars who stand out and not the Doctor.
It is time for him to pass the torch and for me to start looking ahead. I’m cringing a little, Gary, as you well may know, but the Doctor would tell me to travel in hope, and so I send this out, Gary, with just that touch of the Doctor’s hope . . .

Monday, August 5, 2013

The Caves of Androzani

Dear Gary—
The Caves of Androzani is good. It deserves all of the accolades heaped upon it. With top notch writing, directing, acting, and production values (for the most part) it is easily the best Peter Davison story. I would say that The Caves of Androzani is probably the Citizen Kane of Doctor Who. However, while I can appreciate the quality of both, I would place neither in my top ten of favorites. They each lack a certain emotional connection for me that is important. Having said that, though, I do have to rate it as one of the best there is.
A huge plus for The Caves of Androzani is that Peri is not as annoying as she was in her first serial Planet of Fire, probably because she is sick and subdued for much of this story. She also does a creditable job of conveying her increasing discomfort, both with her illness and with the creepy advances of Sharaz Jek. I even find her somewhat endearing in the opening sequences. She and the Doctor seem to have the most companionable relationship of all of the many and varied Fifth Doctor companion pairings. She does continue her lamentable habit of stuttering out her words, however.
My favorite Peri moment occurs to start our story. “Is this wise, I ask myself?” she asks herself as she lags behind the Doctor who is off and running headlong into trouble. The Doctor would have been wise to ask himself the same question. However, “Curiosity’s always been my downfall,” he admits and never has this been more true than in The Caves of Androzani.
The Caves of Androzani is teeming with bad guys and extremely light on good guys. I suppose arguably Chellak and Salateen are on the side of right, but even that is debatable. After all, Chellak carries out the execution of the Doctor and Peri while Salateen takes great delight in the news that the Doctor and Peri are dying of spectrox toxemia. Neither one is interested in helping the Doctor and Peri unless it suits their interest, and the Doctor and Peri can use all the help they can get.  It is a real spectrox nest our two heroes have stepped into on Androzani Minor.
To headline our baddies we have Morgus. Cold and pitiless Morgus. Morgus would sell his own grandmother to turn a profit. Morgus’ main henchman Stotz, on the other hand, would kill his own grandmother just for the fun of it. I have a hard time deciding which of these two is the most reprehensible.
Next we have our tier two of baddies, the President and Krelper, Morgus Lite and Stotz Lite respectively. The President knows what Morgus is about, or at least is suspicious, but he is more concerned with his image than with the welfare of his people. Although I have to say that even Morgus seems put off when the President contemptuously sniffs, “In my day we had filthy little swine like that shot in the back.” When Morgus pushes the President to his death it is fittingly sterile and aloof. “Yes, yes, I am deeply distressed,” Morgus tells Timmin impassively. “Still, it could have been worse,” he continues. “It could have been me.”
There is nothing impassive about Krelper or Stotz, however. Each man relishes in cruelty. It’s hard to feel sympathy for Krelper, even during the expertly played and difficult to watch scene in which Stotz holds Krelper at knifepoint over the edge of a precarious cliff and forces a poison capsule into his mouth. Except for the fact that Stotz would never get himself into that situation, one knows that given the chance Krelper would do exactly the same to Stotz. However Krelper will forever be the underling because he doesn’t think big like Stotz. Two kilos of spectrox is enough for Krelper; he’s content with his bird in the hand. Living by the sword, he doesn’t have the imagination to foresee the satisfaction Stotz takes in returning to gun him down.
Moving on down the ladder of baddies, we have Chellak and Salateen as outlined previously. These are just men doing their jobs, although at times seeming to take far too much pleasure in carrying out their deadly orders. Included in this row I would add Timmin. She, too, is just doing her job; a Morgus in training. She goes through the channels to take Morgus down, but she revels far too much in her victory and I can’t imagine that life under her rule will be much different.
The bottom rung belongs to the magma beast. This is a totally unnecessary but typical Doctor Who creature that really drags the tale down a notch or two. Thankfully not much is made of him so one can almost overlook him.
I purposely left Sharaz Jek out of the progression of baddies because this Phantom of the Opera/Hunchback of Notre Dame/Beauty and the Beast creation deserves special mention. He is without question a baddie, but he has a poignancy that none of the others possess. “The sight of beauty is so important to me,” he enthuses over Peri as though she were a rare, delicate hothouse orchid. “Beauty I must have,” he goes on to admonish the Doctor, “but you are dispensable.”
One time partner of Morgus, but for his betrayal and deformity one could imagine Jek as a cross between the greedy Morgus and the vicious Stotz. He has had time to brood in his lair beneath the surface of Androzani Minor. Revenge and greed are uppermost, however with the advent of Peri he has a sudden outbreak of tenderness and vulnerability that is both disturbing and touching to witness, culminating in his pitiful and heart wrenching breakdown when Peri sees him unmasked.
It truly is a spectrox nest of trouble that the Doctor and Peri step into on Androzani Minor. Danger lurks on all sides from a wealth of baddies. But in the end it is the fatal spectrox toxemia that is the real enemy in The Caves of Androzani. Morgus and Jek and Stotz and all the rest can fight all they want; the real battle that the Doctor is fighting is against time. With the various wars waging around him, the Doctor is intent on one goal—to get the bat’s milk required to cure Peri.
The Caves of Androzani skillfully builds the tension. The initial capture by Chellak, the execution (which is brilliantly conceived and acted), the rescue that is really just an exchange of captors, the escape, the separation—all are exciting and exhilarating but merely a diversion, with the ultimate pressure cooker of a conclusion waiting in reserve. All of these baddies have been simmering and roiling and now come to an explosive end; death upon death; revenge upon revenge; all interspersed with the inevitable blasĂ© nature of battle. Salateen, confident that his belt will gain him safe passage through the android flank, gunned down, his body left in a heap, stepped over by the advancing army. Challak angrily stripping the mask off of Jek only to back away in abject horror. Jek bolting the door against Challak’s screams as the molten mud overtakes him. Stotz calmly shooting round after round into Jek. Jek, staving off death (“Do you think bullets could stop me now?”), while strangling Morgus. Android Salateen stealthily taking out Stotz from behind. Jek falling dead into the arms of the vacant eyed Android Salateen.
None of this, however, means anything to the Doctor. “I owe it to my friend to try because I got her into this,” he says as he hurtles to his seeming death in Stotz’s ship while Stotz threatens him with a gun. “So you see, I’m not going to let you stop me now!”  From his electrifying crash landing of Stotz’s ship, to his race to obtain the antitoxin, to his bursting into the den of death to snatch up Peri, to his stumbling back to the TARDIS with Peri in his arms, the Doctor is on the most important mission of his fifth generation. All of the destruction and mayhem surrounding him is meaningless; the Doctor is single minded in his goal of saving Peri. It is a thrill ride that is rarely matched in Doctor Who.
I only have a few quibbles with The Caves of Androzani. The magma monster comes first and foremost to mind. I also have to wonder how Sharaz Jek was able to construct such realistic android duplicates of the Doctor and Peri down to the last detail of the celery on the Doctor’s lapel in such a short time. The incidental music, especially towards the middle and end, becomes overly intrusive and heavy handed for my taste. Additionally, I am underwhelmed by the set of Morgus’ office and the costumes worn by Morgus, the President, and Timmin. For all of the wealth and greed supposedly possessed by Morgus, the set and costumes seem cheap and are in stark contrast to the nitty gritty realism of the rest of the serial. Finally, I find the abrupt asides by Morgus to be overly self-conscious and staged. I like the idea in theory, but in practice I wish he had been a bit more subtle about it.
After the fantastic characterizations and action, there still remains the regeneration. The Doctor has saved Peri but at the expense of his own life. There is only enough antitoxin for one.
“Is this death?” The Doctor has given his all, exerted his last ounce of energy. “Feels different this time.” Tegan, Nyssa, Turlough, Kamelion, and Adric—“Adric?”—circle around him giving encouragement. He must not die.
“No, my dear Doctor, you must die!” The Master overwhelms the companions with his melodramatic laugh.
But the Doctor has the last laugh.
Peri: “Doctor?”
Doctor (Colin Baker): “You’re expecting someone else?”
I don’t know, Gary, perhaps I am mellowing with age, but on this last viewing I don’t find Colin Baker as obnoxiously arrogant as I have in the past. Or perhaps it is this:
Peri: “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
Doctor (Colin Baker): “That’s three ’I’s in one breath. Makes you sound a rather egotistical young lady.”
This makes me wonder, did they notice Nicola Bryant’s penchant for stuttering and write this sly jab into the script, or is her irritating speech pattern dictated to her? In either case, I like that they have acknowledged it here. Now if only someone would tell her to please knock it off.
“What’s happened,” a bewildered Peri enquires. “Change, my dear,” the Doctor replies. “And it seems not a moment too soon.”
Given the high quality of The Caves of Androzani, however, it almost seems it is too soon. Or perhaps the story was too late. At least Peter Davison has gone out on a high note, and surprisingly, Gary, I am feeling optimistic for the upcoming serials.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Planet of Fire

Dear Gary—
Oh good God. It’s Peri.
And did they really have to name her stepfather Howard? It’s a creepy enough stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, but every time she whines “Howard” I hear echoes of “Howard, Howard Bannister” from the overbearing fiancĂ© in What’s Up Doc? Eunice Burns. Coming from the mouth of Madeline Kahn it is hilarious; however coming from the mouth of Nicola Bryant playing Perpugilliam Brown it is nails on chalkboard annoying.
I want to like the girl. She’s spunky enough, especially when she stands up to the Master/Kamelion. But when she sputters out lines like “S-s-so what. I-I-I’m Perpugilliam Brown and I can shout just as loud as you can,” she just sounds like a brat having a tantrum. She is constantly whimpering, screaming, crying, griping, and stuttering. All in the most annoying voice I ever heard.
Even the Master/Kamelion tells her, “Stop mewling.” If only.
Did I mention that she has an annoying voice?
Peri almost makes me long for Saloon Song Sally from The Gunfighters. Or how about some Zarbi? I think I could tolerate a Zarbi companion better.
Speaking of companions, this is the last outing for Turlough and Kamelion both. The open door policy of the TARDIS is coming to a close. Before kicking him out, however, we at last get a brief accounting of Turlough’s background.
Up until now Turlough has been a mystery. When first introduced in Mawdryn Undead we knew he was not from Earth even though he was found in a boy’s school there (“the worst place in the universe”). The Doctor knew too. It was evident from the start that the Doctor made this instant assessment, but he chose to keep it to himself, smirking with his secret knowledge. I keep expecting the Doctor at some point to reveal his awareness of Turlough’s alien being and to ask some questions. But he never does. Turlough is just accepted with no curiosity or interest expressed by the Doctor.
This indifference is maintained throughout Turlough’s tenure with the Doctor. Occasionally the Doctor slips in a sly grin at him as if to say, ‘I know what you’re about but I’m not going to bother discussing it with you.’ I find this maddening because I am extremely curious about Turlough.
Planet of Fire starts filling in some of the blanks for us, and finally the Doctor begins to ask questions. Understandably, Turlough rebuffs these enquiries or gives only brief, half answers. I don’t blame him, and the Doctor’s hurt and at times hostile reaction is unjustified since he has never attempted any confidence or understanding with his companion before.
If he had made any effort at all, the Doctor would have learned that Turlough is a political exile from his home planet of Trion, having been on the losing side of a civil war. Early in his travels Turlough requested that the Doctor take him to his home planet. Given the circumstances I’m not sure why, but perhaps he was just looking to spark some interest and when that didn’t work he shrugged and gave up. No wonder he desperately tries to cover up all traces of Trion at the beginning of Planet of Fire.
At least Turlough was treated better during his journeys with the Doctor than Kamelion who was ignored; shunted off to a back room of the TARDIS and forgotten. And at least Turlough leaves the Doctor willingly, albeit reluctantly (“I don’t want to go, Doctor; I’ve learned a lot from you”), to return to his home planet as “a bit of a hero.” Kamelion, on the other hand, is euthanized by the Doctor using the Master’s dreaded Tissue Compression Eliminator after first having a cyber-heart attack that is induced by the Doctor.
The Master doesn’t fare any better; not that the Master deserves any better. Seeking renewal, the Master stands in the stream of the restorative numismaton gas only to have it turn to flames. The Doctor stands by and stares as the Master is consumed. A rather grim story for the Doctor; so much for his vow to mend his ways at the end of Resurrection of the Daleks.
Planet of Fire does have a semi-decent core of a story, if somewhat threadbare. Holding it together is Timanov, the truly devout spiritual leader of the colony on Sarn. His presence lends remarkable dignity to the tried and true tale of indigenous peoples worshiping the memory and artifacts of alien visitors.
In this case the alien visitors were from Trion. Sarn, we learn, served as a prison planet for Trion political prisoners. This is where it gets a bit murky on timelines and details. There are some ruins of what must have been a Trion city, but there are no longer any inhabitants. The only Trion on Sarn, other than the newly arrived Turlough, is Malkon. Apparently the last ship from Trion carrying prisoners crashed, killing all on board including Turlough’s father, with the exception of the infant Malkon who turns out to be Turlough’s brother. This does not explain what happened to the others from Trion who had come before, nor does it explain how they came to be viewed as gods. Or more accurately the god Logar, or indeed where the name Logar came from. I can only assume that the first prisoners were led by a man named Logar and he viewed it as a joke to pass himself off as a god to the natives. And I can only assume that this happened many generations ago; that is the only explanation for the legend to be so firmly entrenched and for Timonov’s faith to be so dearly held.
Turlough makes a point of noting the Trion equipment located in the Hall of Fire is fairly new so it must be off of his father’s crashed ship. Malkon was an infant at the time of the crash but Turlough was old enough to be a Junior Ensign Commander, yet there doesn’t seem to be that great of an age gap between the two. Of course this could be explained by time travel; Turlough could be in his own future in which case his return to Trion would find his contemporaries aged well past him. Or it could just be that the people of Trion show their age differently than those of Earth. Either way, it would be fascinating to catch a glimpse of the continuing story of Turlough. Alas, not to be.
All of this is presumption on my part; we only get a shorthand version of the history of Sarn. Much like the shorthand version of how the Master came to be miniaturized; how or why the diminutive Master got himself into a box; and how the Master came to control Kamelion.
I suppose the nature of the story demands the shorthand, what with all of the arrivals and departures and explanations that need to be crammed in. It is a decent enough tale, one that does some long overdue justice to Turlough. I’m sorry to see him go but I don’t blame him for leaving. I don’t much care one way or the other about the death of Kamelion; he has been so utterly neglected that his demise has little impact. The use of the Master, however, has been so overused that I don’t really mind seeing his supposed destruction; and his miraculous ability to reappear with little or no explanation of how he got out of the last impossible predicament the Doctor left him in blunts any real threat that this is the end for him.
But oh good God, Gary. It’s Peri.
I don’t know what your thoughts were on Peri, Gary. I don’t think you had the same visceral dislike that I have. I will try my hardest to look past the cringe inducing effect her voice has on me as I go forward.
But oh good God . . .