The Masque of Mandragora

Dear Gary—

Following on the heels of such brilliant stories as Pyramids of Mars and The Brain of Morbius, I find The Masque of Mandragora rather mundane. It has a promising start, and I’m not just talking about the TARDIS intro scene, which is quite good. I am talking about the idea of the living Helix energy entering the TARDIS and then being let loose by an unsuspecting Doctor out into the world. There are so many possibilities there, and I feel that the resulting story does not do them justice.

Let me return, however, to the opening TARDIS scene for a moment. The Doctor and Sarah are shown walking through the halls of the TARDIS. From the very first Hartnell episode we have always known that the TARDIS is bigger on the inside than on the outside, but “how big is big?” to quote the Doctor. Periodically we have seen other rooms than the control room, but for the first time we get a sense of the enormity of it. “There are no measurements in infinity,” the Doctor tells Sarah after a peek into his “boot cupboard” that looks more like a lounge with a single pair of boots in the foreground. “You humans have got such limited little minds; I don’t know why I like you so much,” he continues. (“Because you have such good taste.” “That’s true, that’s very true.”) Ultimately they end up in a new control room—a secondary control room, or perhaps it was the original—all brown and wood and studyish, rather Sherlock Holmesian—with some nice touches of previous Doctors like the second’s recorder that Sarah plays and the third’s ruffled shirt that the Doctor uses as a dust rag.

With this nice set up we get an intense scene as the Mandragora Helix energy attacks and pulls them in. Arriving in the unknown, the Doctor steps tentatively out of the TARDIS (“It’s bigger than my boot cupboard”) and a glowing red ball of energy swoops down, entering the TARDIS unbeknownst to the Doctor. (I do find it rather hard to believe that the Doctor would have been so careless as to have left the TARDIS door open and that he doesn’t realize that the energy ball has entered, but then we wouldn’t have a story, or maybe would have a different story.)

Suddenly the action shifts to 15^th Century Italy. The Doctor and Sarah arrive and the energy is unleashed and the potential is wasted.

What follows is a very good story, solidly written and solidly acted as usual, but to my mind it just doesn’t match up with the start.

The plot of the power struggle between Count Federico and his nephew Giuliano is all very Shakespearean, but it has nothing to do with the Helix. The Doctor arrives at this pivotal time in history, between the Dark Ages and the Renaissance, and is pulled into a petty family squabble; meanwhile the Helix is out there waiting to wreak its havoc. The plot tries to tie it together with Hieronymous the court astrologer who is siding with the Count and who has been contacted by the Helix, but to my mind it just gets in the way. Helix Hieronymous is not truly working with the Count; his schemes are above local politics; the Count, therefore, becomes superfluous, as does the power struggle.

It’s a pity, because under other circumstances the Count would make a great Doctor Who villain (“Only the dead fail to stand in my presence”), but as it is he is sidelined. The political wrangling between the Count and his nephew serve only to throw up roadblocks for the Doctor. Now if the Helix had contacted the Count, or if Hieronymous had truly been working on the Count’s behalf, this would have all tied up more neatly.

But Hieronymous is an independent agent who has wormed his way into his position and into the good graces of the Count all in preparation for the power he believes will be his through the Helix.

Which brings me to another disappointing aspect of the story. Apparently the Helix has laid plans for this particular takeover for quite some time. This was not some random entering of the TARDIS and random arrival in 15^th Century Italy. This was planned. If it had not been for the Doctor, the Helix says, some other space/time traveler would have carried the Helix to its destination (some other space/time traveler!?). To me the interesting premise of the story was that the evils that result are directly due to the negligence of the Doctor. Similar to The Ark, I was expecting the exploration of what happens when the Doctor’s travels, no matter how innocent, result in time altering chaos. But the Mandragora Helix lets the Doctor off the hook.

And so we get a superfluous power struggle as the central plot point while the Doctor tries to reason with everyone that it doesn’t really matter “because you don’t have a future if you don’t listen to me.” Meanwhile the Helix is treated more like the superfluous element and shunted off to some conventional cultists chanting in stereotypical robes and catacombs and planning the predictable sacrifice of Sarah Jane.

All of this is cloaked in a reason vs. superstition/Dark Ages vs. Renaissance argument. This too is a promise unfulfilled because it all gets rather muddled. Giuliano is planning a masque in honor of his accession to the Dukedom, and all of the enlightened elite of the time (including Leonardo da Vinci whom the Doctor is anxious to meet) are invited (“You’re going to hold a dance?”). This is a bit of a red herring, really. Presumably we are to believe that all of these figures assembled at one place will be annihilated when the Helix obtains full power thus plunging the world back into the darkness. But that is moot—when the Helix is unleashed, according to the Doctor, all sense of purpose will be drained out of the world—“the ability granted to every intelligent species to shape its own destiny.” So what difference if they are all gathered as one? Their fate is sealed regardless. They will become, as the Doctor states, “idle, mindless, useless sheep.” And if I’m not mistaken, the guests at the masque are all killed anyway, except for the Doctor, Sarah, the Duke and his overly attentive companion, so does that mean that Leonardo and the rest of the great minds of the time did die, or did they just decide not to show at the dance?

Then there is the Duke Giuliano. He is supposedly an intelligent and enlightened mind, yet he hasn’t figured out that the Count killed his father? He denounces Hieronymous as a fake yet can’t figure out how his prediction of death came true? And the Count, set up as the counterpoint of Giuliano, is not the voice of superstition. He espouses it for his own ends but does not believe. The Count is a brute not a mystic. And Hieronymous is a fake—up until he gets the Helix power his predictions are at the behest of the Count. His followers are your typical dismal cultists, this particular variety, the Doctor points out, was supposed to have died out in the third century. The only real power these pathetic leftovers derive comes from the Helix which is intent on draining ambition not fostering superstition.

 The clincher—the Mandragora Helix has not chosen 15^th Century Italy for its arrival because of the momentous point in history, it has chosen it because of the alignment of its constellation (an alignment set to repeat itself, so the Doctor says, at the end of the 20^th Century).

Swashbuckling his way through the extraneous plot, the Doctor succeeds with a little bit of wire and a metal breastplate to zap the Mandragora Helix “back to square one.” After all, he says, “it’s part of a Time Lords’ job to insist on justice for all species,” so he cannot allow the Helix to interfere in Mankind’s progress. And just like that it comes to an abrupt end. The Count has already been disposed of back at the end of episode three, the plot recognizing the irrelevant nature of the political intrigues at last, and the cult has been vaporized along with the Helix. Da Vinci must have somehow survived the carnage in the ball room and the Duke and his loving companion are free to carry on their merry way with no apparent repercussions from the masque massacre.

“We seem to have an awful lot of questions,” the Doctor says at one point in our story. “It’s about time we started finding some answers.”

Sometimes, unlike the Doctor, it is best not to think too hard and just enjoy the story for the story. Because despite all of the disappointments, The Masque of Mandragora is a good story. We can take a lesson, too, from Sarah Jane. “How is it I can understand you?” she asks the Doctor when under the influence of Helix Hieronymous. She never bothered to ask this question before, which is a tipoff to the Doctor that she is not herself; like the uninfluenced Sarah Jane, the audience should just accept this gift of the Time Lords and not question it.

And so, dear Gary, I hope you accept this gift . . .

The Seeds of Doom

Dear Gary—

“Welcome to the loneliest spot on Earth.” Doctor Who takes us from the Frankenstein story in The Brain of Morbius to a retelling of The Thing in The Seeds of Doom, at least for the first couple episodes.  I almost expect to see James Arness roaming the halls of the Antarctic station when the Doctor and Sarah arrive in search of a mysterious pod that was found buried deep in the permafrost. Alas, no James Arness, but we do have a rather frighteningly mutated scientist transforming into a plant before our eyes. The pod, or “galactic weed” has opened and infected Winllet, a member of the scientific expedition, and is turning him into a Krynoid.

The story quickly moves beyond The Thing, however, when hired thug Scorby arrives to steal the pod for the private collection of his employer Harrison Chase. No matter that the first pod has already opened, the Doctor has unearthed a second (“They travel in pairs, like policemen”). The scene shifts to England, to the Harrison estate, and the story becomes a fast paced action/adventure/thriller, not my favorite type of story, but the characters, the acting, the writing—all make this a fascinating ride.

“That chap you called in from UNIT, is he quite sane?” The Doctor is, of course, the sanest of all—the most rational, sensible, reasonable, sound, and wise. It is that base of calm underlying the storm of seeming insanity that we can see but others, like Richard Dunbar, cannot. I find it rather odd that Dunbar, of the World Ecology Bureau, questions the Doctor’s sanity, and yet when double dealing with Harrison Chase, who greets him with, “And what is your Bureau doing about bonsai?” and goes on, “Mutilation and torture, Mr. Dunbar. The hideous, grotesque Japanese practice of miniaturizing shrubs and trees.” Mr. Dunbar never sees past his greed to the insanity of Harrison Chase. But the Doctor puts his finger on it—“Greed . . . greed . . . the most dangerous impulse in the universe.”

It is Dunbar’s greed that I find most reprehensible in The Seeds of Doom. Chase is mad; Scorby is mercenary; Keeler is cowardly; the Krynoid is hungry. But Dunbar, Dunbar of the World Ecology Bureau (not the “Intergalactic Floral Society, of which quite naturally” the Doctor is the president), is just plain greedy, not to mention petty and vindictive. He should know better. And he does come to realize this and does atone for his sins, but to my mind it is his initial greed that is the root of all the evil that occurs in The Seeds of Doom.

In the end, it is the common man, the average Joe, the rank and file, that is the most heroic (Cotton in The Mutants) or the most base(Dunbar).

Yet the larger-than-life villains of the piece (Chase, Scorby, Keeler, Krynoid) are more interesting.

Tony Beckley is particularly effective as the mad Harrison Chase. He is not the wild haired, bug-eyed mad of stereotype. He is quietly, calmly, chillingly mad (despite his occasional outburst of “Why am I surrounded by idiots?”). He is rooted in the peaceful green world of his plants, and he comes to his ultimate conclusion: “Yes, yes . . . the plants must win. It will be a new world, silent and beautiful.” However the music he composes (“I could play all day in my green cathedral”) is rather discordant and not at all what I would expect from him.

Now Scorby is everything that I expect from a Doctor Who hired thug, and then some. Vicious and cruel, loyal for a price, looking out for himself, and surprisingly literate. Scorby has been paid to retrieve the pod and will not stop at murder to get it. “He pays well,” Scorby explains to the Doctor of his loyalty to Chase, “and when it comes to money, Mr. Chase and I are of the same religion.” The Doctor, always seeing above and beyond, declares, “Franklin Adams; 1881 to 1960; American humorist.”  “The quotes are over, Doctor,” Scorby replies (although I can’t help noting that the particular quote I believe actually dates from Voltaire rather than Adams).

However, when it becomes evident that Chase is placing everyone in danger, including Scorby, Scorby does not hesitate to switch allegiance. “Scorby, can I rely on you?” the Doctor asks. “For the moment, Doctor,” he replies.  For the moment—Scorby is always for the moment. Practical and self reliant. He has a nice little speech, Scorby does, about how he has always had to rely on himself alone. It congers up visions of a tortured youth, yet I can find very little sympathy for the man Scorby has become.

Neither can I have much sympathy for Keeler/Krynoid. Keeler, botanist in the employ of Chase, uneasy ally of Scorby. He cringes at the thought of violence, but his half-hearted objections to Scorby’s murderous schemes are nothing but cowardly.  Keeler is one of the base orders of common man. His infection by the pod and transformation into a Krynoid is horrifying, but I have little sympathy for him. His pleas for help are heart wrenching, but I have little sympathy for him. He is a victim of his own cowardice.

I see with the Doctor in our story, seeing above and beyond the common place. It is for Sarah to bring the human element to The Seeds of Doom. The Doctor rides above, seeing with the eyes of eternity. Sarah sees with the eyes of compassion and sympathy; Sarah sees with the eyes of reality; Sarah sees with the eyes of the everyday; Sarah sees with the eyes of humanity.

The most compelling example of this is in the tiniest of scenes, the most throw-away of scenes. Back in The Thing section of our story, back when Winllet is our infected Krynoid, back when Scorby and Keeler have not yet revealed themselves as mercenary thugs, back when Chase has not as yet attempted to turn the world into his own personal greenhouse, back when the Krynoid has not yet tried to devour the planet.

The infection is rapidly taking over Winllet’s body. The Doctor can come up with only one solution to save him—to amputate the arm where the infection started. He leaves it to Moberly, the station’s zoologist, to perform the operation.  “But I’m not a surgeon,” Moberly protests. “You must help yourselves,” the Doctor insists. The Doctor stands above, viewing with the eyes of eternity. Sarah sees the practical, the everyday; she understands the Doctor, she understands Moberly; simply and directly she tells it like it is. Moberly must perform the operation. “I’ll do my best,” Moberly concedes. “You’re a good man, Moberly,” the Doctor replies, but what he really should say is, “You’re a good woman, Sarah.”  The whole thing is moot, of course, as Winllett/Krynoid goes mad and kills Moberly before they can proceed, but this small snippet of a scene that ultimately goes nowhere actually speaks volumes.

Throughout our story Sarah serves in this capacity; translating the Doctor to the common man; relating on the everyday level; sympathizing, cajoling, reprimanding, reasoning. “That chap you called in from UNIT—is he quite sane?” Sarah can see the sanity; Sarah can see the calm beneath the storm; Sarah can see through the eyes of eternity with the Doctor, but she sees it with the filter of humanity.

“Have you met Miss Smith,” the Doctor introduces her, “She’s my best friend.” Not assistant, not companion; friend. Best friend. (Having just re-watched Anne of Green Gables, I’d add—kindred spirit.)

“How do you do it, Doctor? You should be compost by now.” Indeed, the Doctor should be compost, and Scorby’s frustration at the Doctor’s seeming nine lives is palpable. How he does it is Sarah—Sarah saves him, and in turn the Doctor saves Sarah. It seems to happen quite a lot in The Seeds of Doom.

“What do you do for an encore, Doctor?”

“I win.”

Yes, the Doctor wins. He always wins. With a little help from his friends.

In this case a little help comes from his friends at UNIT. But it is not UNIT proper. No Brigadier; no Benton. Too bad because this is one time the Brigadier could have blown something up with the Doctor’s approval.

A tad anticlimactic—the blowing up of the devouring Krynoid. But it is an end the Brigadier would have been proud of; poor Brigadier off in Geneva when he really could have had a bang big enough for him.

All in all, Gary, I rather enjoyed The Seeds of Doom more than I remembered. It is a return to the six-part story right when I was enjoying the break from these over-long serials, but in general the fast-paced action justifies the length. The acting, directing, and script are as good as any of this era. The characters are interesting if not sympathetic. It is a bit grim, rather horrifying really. Mocking references to “aggressive rhubarb” and “homicidal gooseberries” aside, the thought of plants turning on animal life is ghastly, and the scenes of strangulation rather gruesome. Even the Doctor is uncharacteristically violent in The Seeds of Doom, in keeping with the dark overtones of the story. And I have to say that the shots of Scorby, the Doctor, and Sarah running through thickets of threatening vines are truly effective, much better than past visions of Susan running in place while branches are slapped in her face as she supposedly runs desperately through a forest.

Yes, a definite A story, even if it is not among my favorites.

I wonder, Gary, what you thought of The Seeds of Doom. I have come this far, and not a word echoes back. I have recently been part of an ongoing quest for answers regarding an old picture—a picture of our ancestors—of our aunts and uncles and parents—a snapshot of the past. We look at these images from years long gone and wonder. Wonder what were they thinking?  What was frozen in that moment so many years ago, a moment no one can remember any more and yet it is there before us, faces smiling and laughing? Why do they have bags on their heads? Why is that bureau in the background known as the Federal Bureau? And who is that mystery person bending down in the center and who looks so much like a relative and yet no one can think who it is?

Time slips away from us. And we are left wondering. Stories left untold.

And I wonder, Gary. I wonder. If we could turn the time back; if we could sit and watch The Seeds of Doom together . . . . I wonder. “Have we been here before . . . or . . . are we yet to come?” I wonder . . . . Welcome to the loneliest spot on Earth . . . .

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 . . . .

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.

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. 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 . . .

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 . . .

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 . . .