Destiny of the Daleks

Dear Gary—

Destiny of the Daleks is the perfect story to follow up the Key to Time Season. After a unique season long story arc with none of the traditional Doctor Who monsters it is refreshing to return to the tried and true formula with one of the Doctor’s oldest foes.

But of course I have to first address the change in Romana from Mary Tamm to Lalla Ward. Much has been said and written about this ‘regeneration’ scene; much outrage has been vented; much contempt expressed. Many hardcore fans are incensed that Romana does not regenerate with all of the uncontrolled trauma that the Doctor undergoes. They rage at her casual ‘trying on’ of bodies and her apparent waste of regenerations. Personally my outrage has always been over the choice of actress and not the means by which she is introduced. Frankly I find the scene immensely funny.

Perhaps my lack of fury over the flippancy stems from the fact that the first time I viewed this particular story I had never seen a Doctor regenerate before. Now that I have seen all of the Doctor regeneration scenes, however, I remain unfazed. In fact, the more I think about it, I’m more upset by the way in which the Doctor’s regenerations have become an increasingly over dramatic ordeal.

Let’s look to that very first ‘renewal.’ William Hartnell stumbles into the TARDIS stating that his body is wearing a bit thin, collapses, and pops up as Patrick Troughton and he’s off and running. His second occurs at the will of the Time Lords, and if you remember Gary, he is given a choice of faces before the Time Lords impatiently choose for him, and voila Jon Pertwee. He does remain unconscious for a time, but probably more because the regeneration was forced on him and the Time Lords had also tampered with his memory and such. Next we have Jon Pertwee, after having dealt with deadly spiders and massive radiation, stumbling from the TARDIS and collapsing on the UNIT floor only to wake up as a delirious Tom Baker.  But Tom Baker was soon up and about “all systems go.”

The Doctor, as you rightly know Gary, is a renegade Time Lord. He is on the run from his society. Who knows how a true Time Lord, a by-the-book, staid, intergalactic ticket inspector Time Lord regenerates? I can well imagine that such a Time Lord doesn’t desperately hold on to a persona to the bitter end before being forced to change. I imagine such a Time Lord very well goes in to a shop to pick and choose what flavor of man (or woman) he (or she) wants to be next. It’s probably the only measure of titillation such a Time Lord has in his (or her) infinitely boring life span.

Next let’s turn to Lalla Ward. I have to admit that I have come to a grudging acceptance and even liking for Lalla Ward’s Romana. My initial ire is long blunted by time and now that I have seen her many times over as Romana I can appreciate her portrayal.

Having said all of that and gotten it out of the way, I can finally turn my attention to our story at hand, Destiny of the Daleks.

“Destiny. Destiny. No escaping that for me.” (Sorry Gary. I couldn’t resist that quote from Young Frankenstein. It just escaped me.)

The Doctor and our newly regenerated Romana (“What are you doing in that body?”) step out of the TARDIS onto a truly inhospitable landscape. “Shall we go back inside?” asks Romana. “What, and never know where I’ve been until the end of time?” responds the ever curious Doctor. Where they are is Skaro. That long ago and far distant planet of the Daleks first introduced with our first Doctor.

Now I’m going to aside again here, Gary, and please forgive me. Just as Romana has crossed the divide between Mary Tamm and Lalla Ward, so too has Doctor Who crossed the divide between Genesis of the Daleks, when last the Doctor visited Skaro, and Destiny of the Daleks. And just as Lalla Ward pales in comparison, so too does Destiny. But just as Lalla Ward will do, so too will Destiny.

To be brief: the Daleks have returned to Skaro to dig up their creator Davros who is buried under the demolished dome of those long ago and now mutated Kaleds. The Daleks are in a non-ending war with the Movellans and need Davros’ humanoid senses to provide the edge against their robotic foe. The Movellans have trailed after the Daleks to see what they are up to. The Doctor and Romana stumble upon these two warring factions and a typical Doctor Who adventure is born.

Again we have outrage and contempt expressed as the Daleks are referred to throughout Destiny of the Daleks as robots. I have to admit that I was thrown by the use of the term in relation to the Daleks, but then Gary, it’s all semantics. As you can probably tell, I’m not one to go by the rule book of grammar; so let the Doctor throw away the rules of semantics. We know that the Daleks are not robots in the strict sense and so too does the Doctor (“They used to be humanoid themselves.”). Let them bandy about the word; we know the truth. Just sit back and enjoy, throw out that rule book, and let Doctor Who be Doctor Who.

Since I am doing multiple asides—Destiny of the Daleks always reminds me of a sci-fi short story I read too many years ago than I want to admit about a technology dependent society that had long given up the teaching of such fundamentals as math to its citizens, but which had a crisis that was resolved by one man (or possibly boy?) who could actually do math in his head. It is the vaguest of memories, but it has stuck with me lo these many years, only to resurface whenever I watch Destiny of the Daleks and see the Doctor demonstrating via rock/paper/scissors how the robotic Movellans and robotic (?!) Daleks will be forever stalemated without the interjection of the human factor (“make mistakes and confuse the enemy”).

Next we have Davros and the Daleks. Last we saw Davros he was a chillingly evil mastermind masterfully brought to life by Michael Wisher in The Genesis of the Daleks. Resurrected in Destiny, he doesn’t have quite the same impact. Neither, frankly, do the Daleks. Blame it on the semantics.

No, not semantics alone. I watched this time, Gary. I watched it through and thoroughly. At the end of Genesis the Daleks had turned on their creator in one of the most spine-tingling moments of Doctor Who. Now they dig him up because they need him. OK. I can accept that. The Daleks might not be robots in the true sense of the word, but apparently they have relied upon their computers (?!) to conduct this war with the robotic Movellans (I can only assume this is only one faction of the Daleks fighting only one faction of their never-ending war against all of creation) and they need the humanoid unpredictability factor that Davros (not only Davros—couldn’t they enlist some humanoid ally as they have done multiple times in the past?) can provide to tip the scales in their favor. OK.

“Supreme Dalek. Hah! That is a title I shall dispute most vigorously,” Davros states. The Daleks had turned on him, had tried to kill him (his secondary and backup life support systems having saved him), and now have dug him up and turned to him in their hour of need, all feeding the hubris of Davros. I expect such grandiosity from Davros.

“We obey only Davros.” I expect that the Daleks (not robots) have the wherewithal and duplicity to coddle along with their megalomaniacal creator to get what they want, which is the means with which to win their war.

However, Gary, I watched this time. I watched it through and thoroughly. The obsequiousness of the Daleks, I always assumed, was a put on. They would turn on Davros in a second once their objective was secured. This never happens. The only excuse I can afford is that they don’t have the opportunity. The Doctor intervenes and everything explodes (literally) in their faces.

Now, Gary, I think I have one too many excuses for this story. I can forgive and forget and explain away only so much. How many times must I do it before I say enough is enough?

I suppose the main problem is that Destiny of the Daleks was written by Terry Nation, one of the original contributors to Doctor Who and creator of the Daleks, and script edited by Douglas Adams. Two geniuses at odds.

But then, Gary, we are looking at the mechanics of the show, aren’t we? The semantics, the grammar, the behind-the-scenes, the history, the lore.

Let’s toss all of that and view Destiny of the Daleks as a single Doctor Who adventure in and of itself.

As such, Destiny of the Daleks delivers as some decent entertainment. Certainly not the best and brightest, but presentable.

And so we can enjoy moments like the Doctor, buried under a fallen beam, calmly taking out a copy of Origins of the Universe by Oolon Colluphid and scoffing, “Ha, ha! He got it wrong on the first line . . . . Why didn’t he ask someone who saw it happen?” while Romana runs off for help. Or the Doctor taunting a frustrated Dalek below him, “If you’re supposed to be the superior race of the universe, why don’t you try climbing after us?” Or Romana off-handedly saying of her two hearts, “One for casual, one for best” (I’ll bet that was a Douglas Adams line).

And we can get to know this new Romana. I have to say that she is growing on me, although I doubt if Romana I would whimper under Dalek torture like Lalla does (I guess it is Dalek torture—she is standing with her hands on a couple of flashing balls and doing a lot of sobbing “I don’t know” responses to Dalek questions, so I guess she’s being tortured in some way). But now that the whole quest thing is over and done with, this new Romana and the Doctor have found a more relaxed bond that suits them well.

Destiny of the Daleks does not have any supporting cast of note. Davros is passable but not memorable as he had been in Genesis. Tyssan, the escaped Dalek prisoner, is fine but doesn’t have much to do really other than keep the action moving along. The robotic Movellans are robotic even before we know they are robots (and why would they wear their power packs out there in the open for anyone to grab?).

“I’ll go alone,” the Doctor says at one point in our story and adds, “Ask me why.” I don’t have to ask, I know. Because there really isn’t anyone worth taking along. But his answer is better: “They’re unconscious. Also, I’m a very dangerous fellow when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And that, Gary, is what makes Doctor Who Doctor Who. Despite all of the outrage and contempt over flaunted conventions and despite the lack of strong supporting roles, there is always the Doctor. He might be a dangerous fellow when he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but how often does he not know what he’s doing? He might seem to not know, his companions might question if he really knows, but we know. We know and we love and we forgive.

There is much to forgive in Destiny of the Daleks, but there is much to love as well. In the end I suppose they balance out.

Destiny, Gary . . . no escaping . . . .

The Armageddon Factor

Dear Gary—

“This thing makes me feel in such a way I’d be very worried if I felt like that about someone else feeling like this about that.”

Amen.

The Armageddon Factor is the conclusion to the Key to Time season, and it is my least favorite story of the six. That is not to say that I don’t like it; it does have some good points to it; it just doesn’t capture my imagination like the other five do.

For starters, it is six episodes in length with not enough to hold my interest for the entirety. The plot, revolving around a futile and endless war between two planets, has potential, and it is structured nicely with two parts Atrios, two parts Zeos, and two parts shadow planet. But rather like the Marshal spending the better part of three episodes in a time loop giving the signal to fire over and over, the story seems to run down the same corridors over and over with little deviation.

Then we have Astra and Merak, the love interest we are supposed to care about, but I just don’t care. They are both rather lackluster and ineffectual. I remember, Gary, my outraged reaction the first time I realized that Astra, or the actress playing her Lalla Ward, was to become the new Romana. The lowlight for me is when Princess Astra is spitting out her lines with the Marshall at the beginning of our story and concludes with, “Then let me go to the hospital. I can’t do anything here.” She begins her delivery in the same angry tone she had been using throughout her dialogue with him, only to realize partway through that this isn’t entirely appropriate to the line and she tempers it, limping her way to the finish. I get the feeling the Marshall lets her go just to get her off screen. Her subsequent scenes with Merak are equally lame, and it doesn’t help that Merak matches her lack of intensity. About the only time I like Lalla Ward’s acting is when Astra is under the influence of the Shadow and playing evil.

In hindsight it is interesting to see the two actresses, Lalla Ward and Mary Tamm, side by side. Too bad neither has any real chance to shine, or at least neither takes the opportunity to shine. The Armageddon Factor is Mary Tamm’s last appearance as Romana in Doctor Who, and I do like that she is given quite a lot to say and do. However what I do not like is that she is humorless throughout. It is a shame that we see none of her personality in this story, and the last we see of her she is delivering a harangue against the Doctor.

There is some humor in The Armageddon Factor, however unlike most Doctor Who serials it doesn’t arise naturally but rather seems forced and out of place. In particular, the characters of Shapp and Drax. These are actually two of my favorite characters in the story, but they just don’t fit.  As K9 observes, “Your silliness is noted.” Shapp and Drax do introduce some much needed lightheartedness to the proceedings, but the action around them is so very serious and grim that it seems glaringly silly in contrast. These two seem to go with a different tale altogether, and I often wish it was that one I was watching.

Thank goodness for the Doctor. I go back, Gary, to The Ribos Operation. Romana asks the Doctor, “Aren’t you frightened?” to which he replies, “Yes, terrified.” Or going back even further to The Ark in Space: “When I say I’m afraid, Sarah, I’m not making jokes.” The Doctor might seem devil-may-care, but beneath his jovial façade we know he is deadly serious. There is much for the Doctor to fear in The Armageddon Factor, but his persona never changes. His is the only humor in this serial that works because it is natural (“Diagonal thinking; that’s what’s required!”).

“Empirical poppycock,” the Doctor says when Romana expresses her expectations of the worst. “Where’s your joy in life? Where’s your optimism?”

“It opted out,” Romana replies—her one moment of humor, but unfortunately prophetic for the rest of the story.

K9, too, has a good line here: “Optimism. Belief that everything will work out well. Irrational, bordering on insane.” Typical K9 logical thinking.

“Oh, do shut up K9,” and typical Doctor berating his mechanical friend. “Listen Romana,” the Doctor continues, “whenever you go into a new situation you must always believe the best until you find out exactly what the situation’s all about. Then believe the worst.”

The worst is what they walk into on Atrios. A world devastated by nuclear war, the people scarred and wounded, the planet contaminated, their fleet depleted, their leaders disconsolate, but a Marshal intent on victory at all costs, throwing everything and everyone at the war effort with no mercy.

“No sign of immediate life,” K9 offers as the Doctor and Romana walk through the empty corridors of Atrios. And then he adds, “The corpse on the left, however, is recent.” That is what is sorely missing from most of The Armageddon Factor, a heavy dose of black humor. Oh what the Coen brothers could do with this script. Wouldn’t that be a fantastic pairing, Gary—the Coen brothers and Doctor Who.

Instead what we get is mostly dark and humorless with sudden bursts of silliness.

I’m not even going to go into the wealth of questions that arise, like what is that skull that talks to the Marshal and why doesn’t it sense the presence of Romana and Merak; why does the Marshal have to look into the mirror to get his instructions; what does the Shadow need with the Marshal when the Marshal seems to want war at all costs regardless of mind control; what happened to all the people on Zeos; and so many more questions I ask myself as the story progresses, but I find I don’t really care enough to get the answers.

 “You don’t beg for peace, Princess, you win it.” The Marshal dominates the first third of the action as it plays out on Atrios, and his single-minded pursuit of victory in the face of devastating losses is engrossing. However the discovery that he is a mere puppet of the Shadow somehow blunts this. Perhaps his monomania is induced, but there is no indication that he was ever any other way. How much more effective this would be if we had glimpses of his true, more moderate self instead of the end product with which we are presented. With the Princess we see the transformation from good to evil, and even though the good is blasé and the evil somewhat inexplicable (can the Shadow really change a personality so completely with just a small black button on the neck?), at least we have the contrast in front of us to add some teeth to the Shadow’s menace. Having only Astra’s change before us I can only wonder why she acts as she does; seeing the Marshal’s conversion would have added a more convincing bite to the Shadow’s power.

Even a hint of his past self would suffice. Perhaps a wife or child agonizing over the personality change. A few simple lines, gestures, looks from one of those wonderful Doctor Who supporting cast members could have added a wealth of depth to this storyline. Instead we get his right hand man Shapp merely rolling his eyes as the Marshal becomes more unreasonable.

For the middle section we move to Zeos and learn that there are no Zeons on Zeos. Miles and miles of empty, dusty corridors and one computer master minding the war effort. Who’s minding the computer, keeping the dust out of the server room, performing minor maintenance, making sure the power stays on? No mention, no matter. Who’s manning those war ships we see as tiny blips on the Atrios radar screen? No mention, no matter. What happened to all of the people of Zeos, or at least their corpses? No mention, no matter.

Finally we arrive at the Shadow’s lair for the denouement (“you are in the Valley of the Shadow”). Here we get an abandonment of the first two thirds of the story (or at least a temporary pause as it is held up in a time loop) so we can get to the Key to Time thread of the plot.

Enter Drax. Drax, a renegade Time Lord like the Doctor, had been employed by the Shadow to build the Zeos war computer Mentalis and has now been conscripted into entrapping the Doctor. Drax recognizes him and for the first time we get an actual name attached to the Doctor (other than his alias of John Smith). “Hello, Theet. How you been, boy?” Theta Sigma, as we will come to learn in later serials, was the Doctor’s nickname back at the Academy. The Doctor seems annoyed at the dredging up of this old appellation and calmly but rather sternly corrects Drax: “Doctor.” I have to say I’m a bit annoyed myself at this familiarity. I do adore Drax, but as I say, he is out of place and his intimate use of the name seems almost sacrilege (and I have to admit, Gary, that I always heard Theet as Feet and was therefore doubly outraged). “No offence,” the Doctor adds, however, because he too likes Drax.

Now we have the Shadow using Romana, I mean Princess Astra, to lure Romana (the real, true, first Romana) and also Merak off into danger, and we have some strange sequences of holographic Romanas (the real, true, first Romana) and the Doctor calling out and walking down corridors (“Ah, I see what you’re at; splitting us up. Divide and conquer, is that it?”). If that is what he’s at, I don’t get it. He already had them split up. What exactly was the point of that? It was some more out of place silliness, like a funhouse set down in the middle of a war torn battlefield.

And then we have the Shadow enslaving K9. The Doctor has the right idea about these little black buttons the Shadow uses; he simply takes it off and scoffs at it. I can see how Astra has come under the influence, and the Marshal doesn’t seem to need any undue influence (although why he didn’t take the thing off as a nuisance I don’t know), but K9? A tin dog? Really? This leads to some rather comical scenes with K9, the Doctor, and Drax, all out of place in the somber Shadow’s lair, but nonetheless entertaining and much appreciated.

Finally we have the revelation that Romana, I mean, er, Astra, is the sixth segment to the Key to Time, and that the Shadow is working for the Black Guardian. Astra willingly undergoes her “metamorphosis” and the Doctor unshrinks himself (don’t even ask about the shrinking shtick) in the nick of time to grab the segment away from the Shadow and race for the TARDIS.

Now we have the first appearance of the Black Guardian, a nice end cap to the Key to Time season. It would have been nice if he posed more of a serious threat, but I have to say that I don’t really mind the fairly anticlimactic end to this quest. All of the fun was in the search, who really cares if it was all for naught? The key is assembled for a brief time, and presumably this is enough for the White Guardian to do his thing. I’m sure he is all-knowing enough to sense it has been assembled and all-powerful enough to restore balance. That’s all a bit of minor technicality that I can leave to my suspension of disbelief.

The Doctor’s “Absolute power over every particle in the universe” routine in the closing moments is worth the entire season-long exercise in futility.

With the Key dispersed once again, Astra is restored to her Merak (although honestly I care more for the Atrios soap opera lovers than I do this duo), the Doctor and Romana are now at the whim of the randomizer the Doctor has newly fitted to the TARDIS guidance system (that “operates under a very complex scientific principle called pot luck”), and Drax is off to peddle his talents to the frustrated Marshal just released from his time loop. Now that, Gary, is another Doctor Who spinoff I would love to see.

And so the Key to Time season comes to a close; a season of diminishing returns.

I’m making it sound as though I don’t like The Armageddon Factor at all, but I do in fact enjoy it. It is just the lost potential that I lament.

But then, Gary, you know that old saying about ifs and buts . . .

The Power of Kroll

Dear Gary—

The Power of Kroll is obviously the weakest link in the Key to Time season; and yet I have always liked it. I’m not sure why. The acting is sub-par for Doctor Who; the costumes, make-up, and effects are laughable even for Doctor Who; the characters are rather one-dimensional; the action can be plodding. And yet I have always liked it and like it still.

Maybe it is the wince-inducing green natives pathetically chanting “Kroll, Kroll, Kroll” while the maiden (Romana) is menaced unconvincingly by a rubber suited monster. This scene is everything that is wrong about The Power of Kroll, yet it is somehow endearing and hypnotic.

“Well, he probably looked more convincing from the front.”

That says it all about The Power of Kroll. This is Doctor Who as viewed behind the scenes with all its seams showing. It is Doctor Who inside out. And that is rather refreshing and fun.

One dead on aspect of the serial is the marshy locale. From the moment the TARDIS materializes in the tall grasses and the Doctor and Romana emerge to trudge through the swampy terrain I think, aah—that’s a perfect spot for a Doctor Who story. Then the tall, nearly naked green men show up and I think, aha—some neighborhood gang of friends thought so too and are playing at Doctor Who. The Doctor and Romana have happened upon this backyard production and are playing along. Charming.

“Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . .”

Rhythmic drum beats.

Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . .”

The key, of course, is that the Doctor and Romana do show up. Not your amateur theatrical Doctor and Romana, but Tom Baker and Mary Tamm.

Doctor: “Well, you’d better introduce me.”

Romana: “As what?”

Doctor: “Oh, I don’t know. As a wise and wonderful person who wants to help. Don’t exaggerate.”

Romana: “This is . . .”

Ranquin: “Seize them.”

Doctor: “I told you not to exaggerate.”

Yes, Tom Baker and Mary Tamm definitely show up.

Doctor: “I know a rogue when I see a rogue, and I’ve no desire to die in the company of a rogue. Have you any desire to die in the company of a rogue?”

Romana: “I’d rather not die at all.”

The rogue they speak of is Rohm-Dutt, a double dealing gun runner supplying defective weapons to our green-skinned friends. About the only distinctive thing about this somewhat bland character is yet another great Doctor Who villain name. I barely notice when a Kroll tentacle drags him off never to be seen again.

Assumed to be in league with Rohm-Dutt, the Doctor and Romana are condemned “to die by the seventh holy ritual” (“Seven’s my lucky number”) and our green-skinned hooligans grab some nearby foliage and truss them up on a makeshift stretcher bar. While Rohm-Dutt and Romana try their best to make us believe they are being torn apart by the creepy crawly vines the Doctor takes note of a window placed above their heads.

“Will you stop babbling about the architecture? We’re having a serious conversation about death.”

Romana has not been with the Doctor long enough to know better (“Doctor, sometimes I don’t think you’re quite right in the head”), but we know, Gary, that there is always sense in the Doctor’s nonsense.

“Nellie Melba’s party piece,” the Doctor says after his high pitched screech breaks the window allowing the rain to loosen the creepers to aid their escape, “though she could only do it with wine glasses.”

In addition to the marshes and the green-skinned natives (cleverly dubbed ‘swampies’) we have a methane refinery and its crew; and lo and behold, Philip Madoc has joined this local troop of actors to lend his talent. His part as Fenner is relatively subdued compared to some of his more memorable turns at Doctor Who (most notably the War Lord in The War Games and Solon in The Brain of Morbius), but he is perfectly placed in this somewhat dull and dour base.

The long scenes of Fenner and Thawn debating over the best method to defeat Kroll (the giant squid of our title) could have been tedious, but with Philip Madoc on hand I actually find these sections to be extremely tense and gripping.

I do have to aside here, Gary. John Leeson was along with Tom Baker and Mary Tamm on this outing, but the swamps were deemed unmanageable for K9 so he was thrown in to the refinery scenes to check monitors and add some Sons of Earth propaganda. I do think, though, that this schoolyard romp missed out—how much more fun it would have been to let John Leeson do his K9 bit on all fours like he did in the rehearsal halls rather than settling for one of the more mundane human roles.

And then there is Kroll.

“Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . .”

Rhythmic drum beats.

Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . .”

Kroll—what all the fuss has been about. The swampies worship him for some bizarre reason and the refinery crew fears him for good reason. Kroll is one giant squid. The biggest monster ever in Doctor Who. You just have to love this guy.

“Well, I’ve had a happy life. Can’t complain. Nearly 760. Not a bad age.” The Doctor has gone to confront Kroll armed only with the tracer. Kroll (“Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . . Kroll! . . .”) swallowed the fifth segment of the Key to Time (ah yes, let’s not forget the Key to Time) and all the Doctor has to do, after a slight wrestling match, is touch the tracer to Kroll and voila!

This playacting band of thespians, though, obviously didn’t want things to end just yet so they added a Doctor Who count down to certain death so that the Doctor could pull a couple of wires to make the whole thing go pffft.

It probably would look more convincing from the front (“Too convincing, but there’s no need to be smug about it.” “I’m not smug.” “I can tell that expression even from behind.”), but this backstage perspective was highly entertaining.

Only one segment to go.

The Androids of Tara

Dear Gary—

I do believe that I used to like The Androids of Tara more than I do now, but it is still a solid enough story to keep me entertained. This is the fourth installment in the Key to Time season, and I like the fact that the fourth segment is located almost immediately rather than the story revolving around the search.

“Look, I’m going to get that fourth segment and I’ll be back here in under an hour. You be ready to leave.”

While the Doctor goes fishing (“after a journey of 400 years and 12 parsecs, I’m allowed a rest of 50 years”) Romana follows the tracer to a rather crude and ancient statue, a portion of which transforms into the fourth segment.

With the segment found and out of the way we can now just sit back and enjoy this swashbuckling tale straight out of The Prisoner of Zenda.

“Well, we can’t have her running around the kingdom. Disassemble her.”Romana has been captured by Count Grendel of Gracht, believing her to be an android made in the image of the Princess Strella. Grendel already has the princess locked up and has his own look-alike android on hand for his nefarious scheme to wrest control of the throne. He can’t have yet another Strella roaming about interfering with his plans.

“Do you mind not standing on my chest? My hat’s on fire.” Meanwhile the Doctor is taken by Zadek and Farrah at sword point to Prince Reynart and conscripted into repairing their own android double of the prince.

It is a pleasant little story and a simple little plot. Reynart is to be crowned king; Strella is next in line for the throne; Grendel seeks to marry and kill his way to power. Duplicate androids are employed when the originals are uncooperative or endangered.

“I’ve got better things to do than meddle in the politics of your piffling little planet.” But the Doctor, with Farrah’s too eager sword pointed at his throat, becomes embroiled in this court intrigue.

And Romana, spitting image of the Princess Strella, of whom Grendel says, “Tara’s most eligible spinster, shortly to become, in rapid succession, my fiancé, my bride, and then deceased,” finds herself smack in the middle of this fairy tale.

“Count, far be it for me to query this lady’s competency as a doctor, but where I come from you don’t cut off the patient’s head if you wish to cure their ankle.” In the nick of time Romana convinces Grendel that she is not an android but flesh and blood. Even better for Grendel’s plans, and he tosses her in the dungeon along with the newly captured and wounded Prince Reynart.

It does seem as though Grendel holds all the cards. He has the real Strella, the real Reynart, the real Romana (twice over), plus an android duplicate of both Strella and Romana (although each of these is quickly seen through and disposed of). He has even managed to take out the duplicate Reynart (but not before he is crowned king). What Grendel does not have is the Doctor (or K9). And that is all it takes.

“Do hurry up. A hamster with a blunt penknife would do it quicker,” the Doctor admonishes K9 as they sneak into Grendel’s castle to break up the forced wedding ceremony between Reynart and Romana posing as Strella.

One fantastic sword fight later (between the Doctor and Grendel), plus a Romana/Strella one-two against Grendel’s henchman, and it’s all over.

“Next time, I shall not be so lenient!”

But you know, Gary, it's Doctor Who. You can’t just wrap it up in one nice neat package like that and say it’s all over.  Watching The Androids of Tara as I just have over and over, having memories of loving it in viewings past and then more recently tempering my praise, and now analyzing and thinking about it more than I ever have, I am coming back around to loving it again.

Because this is more than just a mere retelling of a classic. This is more than a fairy tale redux. This is Doctor Who. This is Tom Baker Doctor Who. This is Romana Mark I Doctor Who. And this is a simple story that lets the actors shine without a complex of plot complications to get in the way.

I’ll start with Mary Tamm playing not one but four parts in this charming little yarn. The meatiest role is of course Romana, and she takes command from the first TARDIS scene in which she navigates their materialization, casually looks over the Doctor’s shoulder to recognize his precarious position in his game of chess against K9, and then picks out her outfit from the wardrobe to blend in with their destination of Tara. All business, she goes in search of the segment on her own after having put up with the Doctor’s childishness long enough (“Frightens the fish . . . “).

Confronted with Grendel and his surgeon/engineer Lamia, Romana remains calm and defiant, deflecting questions and giving as little cooperation as possible. Her lack of horse experience lends some quietly charming and comic moments as well:

Romana: “What’s that? Is it yours?”

Grendel: “My favorite charger; strong as a tree and swift as the wind.”

Romana: “Well, how does it go? What makes it work?”

Grendel: “Good heavens, I don’t know, my dear.”

Romana: “You don’t?”

Grendel: “I’m a knight, not a farrier.”

And later when she is stealing that favorite charger, “Go, charger. Start. Start! Go, you stupid creature, go!”

It is the blend of no-nonsense confidence, bravery, and naiveté that makes Romana Mark I stand out for me.

Mary Tamm doesn’t have much to do in the three other personas, although her android death scene is great, and Strella is sufficiently regal for the brief screen time she is given.

Then there is the Doctor in the Prince’s camp. I love the evolution of his relationship with Farrah. From their rocky beginning (“If you don’t stop burning my scarf, you’re going to have to kill me”) they slowly develop a respectful working rapport. And his bargaining down from 1000 gold pieces to 500 for his services is classic Tom Baker. Throughout The Androids of Tara Tom Baker is at the top of his game, whether playing chess with K9, fishing, tending to androids, or dueling with Grendel.

The hints of Taran society are interesting as well, especially as they are fleshed out by the supporting cast. We learn that the peasants of Tara are more intelligent than the ruling class, they are the technicians. (“Don’t you sometimes wish, Zadek, that our fathers had permitted us to learn peasant skills?” “No, your highness. If we’d have meant to have been peasants, we’d have been born peasants.”) Indeed, when the Doctor makes the android prince more intelligent than the original (“Of course he is; I programmed him.”) Zadek protests.

But it is the technician peasant side of Taran society that is most fascinating, especially as portrayed by Madam Lamia. “I’m a peasant; I leave politics to my betters,” she tells Grendel, but there is much hidden meaning behind her words. Lamia, the peasant surgeon/engineer employed by Grendel, is clearly the better of the two and there are depths of bitterness and disappointment hidden beneath her calm exterior. Patiently destroying two diamond drill bits in her examination of the Key to Time segment, she has all of the curiosity and intelligence of an advanced mind, but she is kept in her place.

“What should I do without you,” Grendel asks, to which she replies, “Find another peasant who understands androids, no doubt.”

This pent up frustration comes out subtly, like when she slyly consents to return the segment to Romana only to go back on her word at the last second.

Lamia, with all of the repressed discontent over her unfair position in life, maintaining small measures of control.

Romana: “What have you got to lose?”

Lamia: “Grendel.”

Romana: “Well, you haven’t exactly got him now, have you? All he’s doing is using you.”

Lamia: “I know. But that is better than nothing.”

Lamia, better than Grendel and knows it, but she has her all invested in him. I don’t know that I would call it love. She is not starry eyed; she is possessive. As long as she can call him her own she has something she can hang onto. Romana notices her jealousy from the start. “Just because I once showed her a certain courtesy,” Grendel explains.

Grendel for his part treats her with disdain (“That’s the trouble with peasants these days; they don’t know their place anymore.”) yet the one moment of true feeling we see from him is when Madam Lamia is accidently shot down by his guards. It is a complex relationship told in the briefest of lines, gestures, and looks.

Beyond his relationship with Lamia, Grendel is one of those dastardly Doctor Who villains one loves to hate. My favorite Grendel moment is when the Doctor manages to slip through his trap at the Pavilion of the Summer Winds. His frustrated reaction cracks me up every time.

I do believe I have come full circle, Gary, and I have to say that I like The Androids of Tara immensely.

It ends on a nice, playful note as the Doctor mischievously kids along Romana who is in desperate search of the missing segment Lamia had taken from her but which the Doctor has secretly put in his pocket. I like to see this element of warmth entering the Doctor/Romana relationship.

“Do you know, I’ll be quite sorry to leave Tara.”

I agree with Romana. I am sorry to leave The Androids of Tara behind.

“What? Sorry to leave Tara? I didn’t even catch one fish. Not one! Come on!”

But as long as the Doctor is ready to venture on, so too am I. And so I send this out, Gary, hoping to find you somewhere out there . . .

The Stones of Blood

Dear Gary—

The Stones of Blood doesn’t make a particle of sense, but I never minded very much. Come to think of it, I never really even noticed. It’s just good fun Doctor Who. Now that I have noticed, though, I’m going to take a stab at making some semblance of sense out of it, rather like the Doctor at the start of our story unsuccessfully trying to assemble the two segments of the Key to Time.

To begin, the Doctor receives a reminder warning from the White Guardian to beware the Black Guardian. Could this be a portent for the story to come, or is it simply to serve as a recap to the audience for the season’s premise?

The Key to Time core (sometimes called the tracer) leads the Doctor and Romana to the Nine Travelers, a circle of standing stones in England, however once there the signal stops. Knowing that the segment is the Seal of Diplos worn around Vivien Fay’s neck, I can only assume that she was at the circle when they first started for it but then left. Romana doesn’t take the tracer out again when Vivien and Professor Amelia Rumford show up. However, I can’t help wondering; wouldn’t the Geiger counter sound start going wild from Romana’s backside, where she has the tracer tucked into her belt, every time Vivien Fay comes near? Romana doesn’t take it out again until after Vivien and the Professor leave and there is not a peep out of it, but wouldn’t it have a faint trace leading off in the direction of Vivien’s cottage that is just over the hill?

No matter, continuing on.

The Doctor goes off in search of answers from Mr. De Vries, the owner of the land upon which the stones stand and leader of a druidic cult operating in the area. The Doctor is surprised that De Vries knows his name and knew of his coming. This is where the crows come in. “It looks evil,” Romana says of one that seems to be hanging about. The crows lend an eerie element to the tale, and apparently communicate between Vivien and her cultist friends. At least that is the implication, and that is how De Vries knows so much about the Doctor. (“Beware the raven or the crow, Doctor; they are her eyes.”)

While at De Vries’ hall the Doctor remarks on some notably absent portraits. Lady Morgana Montcalm (“they used to call her the wicked Lady Montcalm”), Mrs. Trefusis (“she lived here for 60 years and never saw a soul”), and Senora Camara (“Was there a Senor Camara?” “He doesn’t seem to have survived the crossing from Brazil.”), all previous owners of the hall and the surrounding land, including the Nine Travelers. It’s another atmospheric scene deepening the sinister tone already established with the crows and the druids.

So far so good. De Vries is the leader of a druidic cult, chanting to his Cailleach (who is really Vivien Fay although that is not yet revealed), and communicating with her through crows. The Doctor, in search of the missing Key segment is a threat to the Cailleach and therefore De Vries (the segment being the Great Seal of Diplos around Vivien Fay’s neck although we don’t know that yet either). De Vries, under orders of the Cailleach, knocks the Doctor out. So far so good. Some appearance of order here.

De Vries, again by orders of the Cailleach (presumably), uses the power of the segment to transform objects to make himself or someone (unclear) over into the image of the Doctor (we never see this—it’s all implied and off camera) to lure Romana to her death over the treacherous cliffs (Romana being as much a threat as the Doctor for the same reasons). De Vries then gathers his circle of druids in the middle of the Nine Travelers to sacrifice the Doctor to the Cailleach.

Now this cult is rather rag-tag and the Doctor himself never really seems worried that Leonard (De Vries) will actually go through with his threat. Leonard (De Vries) does seem to take inordinate amount of time as Martha pleads with him to stop this madness while he stands awkwardly with curved knife poised above the Doctor. Good old Professor Amelia Rumford to the rescue on her trusty bicycle and the cult flees.

A brief rescue scene as Romana, bare foot (having thankfully shed those ridiculously inadequate shoes—although they did come in rather handy for judging the density of the ground early on), clings precariously to the edge of the cliff. Now send Romana back with Amelia to Vivien’s cottage (after getting her a decent pair of shoes) while the Doctor returns to confront De Vries (Leonard).

But first we have some more tracer mystery. They return to the circle. The tracer (Key core) picks up a faint signal. The Doctor has already introduced the hint of hyper space. But we know the segment is around Vivien’s neck and Vivien is in the circle when they arrive. Why doesn’t the tracer lead Romana straight to Vivien and story done? But the Doctor stops her hand, the Doctor already has his suspicions (“that’s what I thought”). My only conclusion is that the Doctor deliberately delays the discovery of the segment so he can indulge his natural curiosity. My next conclusion, since the tracer does not continue to signal, is that there must be a switch that Romana activates to make it work; I can only say that Romana has been extremely lax in her tracer duties.

Again, so far so good. I have managed to answer most of my questions. Next are the Ogri and their destruction of the hall and Leonard (De Vries) and Martha. Given the crow implications, I suppose Vivien sent message via the crows to the Ogri to carry out her command to murder Leonard (De Vries) and Martha when she hears the Doctor’s plans to go back for answers.

Side note here, Gary. I never bothered to put all of this together before. I always just watched and enjoyed and never really asked questions or tried to make sense. None of this is really spelled out for us, much is implied and much is supposition.

But back to our story.

And back to the Ogri. The Ogri are the stones located in the Nine Travelers circle, or at least three of the stones. The Ogri are silicone based life forms that need blood to live. Hence the druidic sacrifices (animal blood for the most part as far as I can tell; no human sacrifices until the attempt on the Doctor). The Ogri arrived on Earth 4,000 years ago along with Vivien Fay, aka Lady Montcalm, aka Mrs. Trefusis, aka Senora Camara, aka the Cailleach (and more aliases to come but not yet known). 4,000 years these Ogri have craved blood; has it been 4,000 years of druidic animal blood provided? Not clear. Never explained. The Ogri do go off to ‘recharge’ on a couple of camper’s  blood, so this doesn’t seem to be unprecedented, but there is no hint of disappearances or mysterious deaths in the area or associated with the Nine Travelers, so who knows how they have survived for 4,000 years or on what.

Let’s jump back to hyperspace. (“I still don’t understand about hyperspace”—Prof. Amelia Rumford. “Well, who does?”—the Doctor. “I do”—K9. “Oh, shut up K9”—the Doctor.) Vivien has rustled Romana off to hyperspace above the stone circle where a space ship has been parked, apparently for 4,000 years.

Now we veer off from the first half rather creepy, gothic, sometimes referred to as Hammeresque, story to the sci fi hyperspace second half of The Stones of Blood.

“They say it’s a theoretical absurdity and that’s something I’ve always wanted to be lost in.”

Vivien Fay, we learn, has been lost in hyperspace for 4,000 years, or at least the hyperspace ship she arrived in has been grounded on Earth for that long. We also learn that Vivien is actually Cessair of Diplos, a criminal who was being transported to trial by the Megara, justice machines who are also on board the hyperspace vehicle but locked up, until that is the Doctor lets them loose for which he is put on trial for breaking the seals on their compartment door.

OK, Gary, this is where things get a bit fuzzy. First we have a convict ship grounded on Earth; all the officers, crew and prisoners on board are dead except for Cessair/Vivien. How and why—who knows? Perhaps at the hands of dear Vivien/Cessair? And why would the Megara, who are to try the criminals, be on the same transport with the criminals? Where were they being transported to? If they were already all together at their starting point, why couldn’t they just hold the trial then and there? Why go anywhere else? Especially since the Megara have no compunction to try the Doctor on the spot. And why are the Megara locked up? The compartment they occupy is obviously intended for them since it has the distinctive seal (which is apparently sacrosanct), so why does it lock from the outside like a cell? And back to the point of all being on the same transport, wouldn’t Cessair of Diplos therefore already have been identified for the Megara? Why did they have to wait until they arrived at their mysterious destination before the officers would identify her? And do the Megara not realize that they have been locked up for 4,000 years?

But OK, those are all minor points. On to the bigger questions. Like why does Cessair of Diplos choose to remain on Earth for 4,000 years? Perhaps she isn’t technical minded and can’t figure out how to get the ship going again, but then, she has had 4,000 years to study. She obviously has some intelligence, posing as a scientist in the form of Vivien Fay. And she has the Great Seal of Diplos (Key to Time segment), which she obviously went to great lengths to steal and risked much, why doesn’t she utilize its powers more than she does? And why does she choose to remain for those 4,000 years in the same spot living as a recluse for much of it? How did she manage to get control of the Nine Travelers land and how does she manage to hold onto it for so long? How did she convince the world at large that her various personages were not one and the same? And if she wanted to keep up this illusion of different people taking on ownership of the land through the years, why did she have portraits done of herself as each of the different characters she played (only to lock them away in a priest hole)?  And then why did she wait the 4,000 years before hitting upon the idea of getting a front man?

Speaking of Leonard, how did she manage to convince him to go along with her scheme (whatever her scheme was)? OK—that’s not too difficult to answer, Leonard isn’t exactly the brightest bulb. But that begs the question, did Vivien/Cessair/Cailleach really stick around for 4,000 years with the power of the Seal/Key at her disposal just to hold sway over a middle aged couple playing at druid? And what was that druidic cult all about, anyway? Just to feed the Ogri animal blood? Ah, the Ogri—all kinds of questions abound there. Why did Cessair steal them away from their home planet? Why do they obey Cessair? Why haven’t they rampaged across the countryside these 4,000 years rather than waiting around in a circle for the cult to spill a little animal blood on them?

And what of the Black Guardian? Has he been using Cessair/Vivien? If so, when did he contact her? Surely not 4,000 years ago when she first stole the Seal/Key, otherwise, why wouldn’t he have freed her long before now and taken the segment for himself? So when? Vivien/Cessair does seem to know about the segment and that the Doctor is after it, did the Black Guardian approach her when the TARDIS first landed? And if so, again, why didn’t he just take the segment for himself? Was his sole intent to have Viven/Cessair kill the Doctor? Or was the Black Guardian not involved at all, and if not, how does Vivien/Cessair know (or at least seem to know)about the Doctor’s mission?

I give up.

No, Gary, I think I’ll simply leave the questions and enjoy the show. Because I do enjoy it. The first half is wonderfully gothic in atmosphere and the second high-tech sci fi. Professor Amelia Rumford is a delight and the Megara are fascinating (although for justice machines they don’t seem to be very just; and really, breaking a seal is punishable by death yet stealing and misusing the Great Seal, murder, impersonating a religious personage, and the removal and employment of life forms from their home planet in contravention of the Galactic Charter are not?). The Doctor’s self-defense against the Megara is classic Tom Baker, and even though Romana’s efforts at detection prove redundant they are enjoyable to watch. Let’s not forget K9 either (“Forget. Erase memory banks concerning tennis. Memory erased.”).

And that is the key to this Key to Time segment—it is enjoyable to watch.

I hope, Gary, that you enjoyed it as well as I send this out, no questions asked . . .

The Pirate Planet

Dear Gary—

“Moons of madness!” The Pirate Planet is great fun. This is one of those stories that always spring to my mind when I think of Doctor Who, thanks in large part to the over-the-top character of the Captain. Thinking of it now, the Captain is probably the origin of my affection for blustery authoritarians sputtering ‘Why am I surrounded by idiots?’ or in the Captain’s own variation, “Why am I encumbered with incompetents?”

The Pirate Planet is the second installment of the Key to Time season, and notably the first Doctor Who script penned by Douglas Adams. Douglas Adams, Doctor Who, Tom Baker, The Key to Time—it all blends superbly.

“Imbeciles! Fools! Thrice worse than incompetent idiots!” The Captain, piloting his pirate planet through space, has run up against the TARDIS in attempting to materialize. “What pernicious injuries have you inflicted on my precious engines?”

The Doctor and Romana in the TARDIS are experiencing similar difficulties. Both objects materializing at the same moment in space and time. “Danger, master, danger.”

Romana, fresh from the Academy, is still operating by the book, literally, and shakes her head at the Doctor for not using the synchronic feedback checking circuit or the multiloop stabilizer. “Oh, absolute rubbish,” the Doctor declares as he tears the page from the instruction manual Romana has been reading from. Romana had not studied “veteran and vintage vehicles” while at the Academy—she preferred “something more interesting”—“the lifecycle of the Gallifreyan flutterwing.” (“Now you’re being frivolous.”)

It’s nice that this student/teacher dynamic has not yet been abandoned or its comic implications as the Doctor tries to knock the by-the-book attitude out of Romana with his experience (523 years flying the TARDIS is nothing to sneeze at after all; 523 years of successful materializations “without a multiloop anything.”).

And I like that the Doctor’s way is not always proven to be the right way. “Excuse me . . .” “What we’d like to know . . .” The Doctor futilely attempts to grab the attention of passing citizens as Romana simply walks up to one of them and begins an informative conversation. “She is prettier than you, master,” K9 informs the Doctor by way of explanation for her success. (“Look, good looks are no substitute for sound character.”)

One word more, Gary, about Romana. Confident in her own intelligence but open to instruction, gorgeous and patrician, now add a deliciously dry wit that complements the Doctor’s. The opening TARDIS scene showcases this deadpan humor, as does the following exchange she has with a guard:

Guard (confiscating a telescope from Romana): “This is a forbidden object.”

Romana: “Why?”

Guard: “That is a forbidden question. You are a stranger?”

Romana: “Well, yes.”

Guard: “Strangers are forbidden.”

Romana: “I did come with the Doctor.”

Guard: “Who is . . .”

Romana: “Ah, now don’t tell me. Doctors are forbidden as well.”

It is the Captain, however, who steals the show in The Pirate Planet.

“Vultures of death! Ghouls!” he shouts when informed that the Mentiads are on the move. The majority of the citizens on Zanak (the pirate planet of our title) are mindless sheep praising the Captain and each “golden age of prosperity” he ushers in. The Mentiads, however, are a group of telepathic outcasts protesting the “life force dying” and always on the lookout for an addition to their ranks. But they are a rather ineffectual rabble and I’m not really sure why the Captain bothers with them; his rants are entertaining, though, justifying the Mentiad presence in our story.

And of course the Mentiads lead the Doctor to their new recruit Pralix, his sister Mula, and family friend Kimus. None of these are really noteworthy either, but they do serve to move the story along.

The story in a nutshell: the Captain moves the planet Zanak, which is hollow, through space to surround a new planet that he then proceeds to mine. The Mentiads agonize with each new “golden age” as they absorb the dying life force of the victim planet. The Doctor and Romana get mixed up in this as Romana is arrested and taken to the Captain’s bridge and the Doctor hooks up with Mula and Kimus who are concerned about the ‘kidnapping’ of Pralix by the Mentiad. All the while they have to figure out where the second segment of the Key to Time is and what it is disguised as.

But that is only the hollowed out surface of the story. Buried deep is the true core of the plot. The evil Queen Xanxia, long believed dead, is being kept alive in the last few seconds of life by means of time dams. The real purpose for the mining of whole planets is to obtain the minerals required to regenerate Xanxia permanently into the temporary projection of herself that has been until this time posing as the Captain’s nurse. The Captain is really a puppet of Xanxia, but he has a plot of his own and has been creating “the most brilliant piece of astro-gravitational engineering” the Doctor has ever seen out of the crushed remains of each of Zanak’s victim planets, and he plans on using these suspended trophies in an attempt to break free of the Queen’s control.

It is really a complex little tale, this buried Calufrax of a plot.

“Appreciate it? Appreciate it?” the Doctor spits in disgust upon first encounter with the Captain’s graveyard of a trophy room. “What, you commit mass destruction and murder on a scale that’s almost inconceivable and you ask me to appreciate it? Just because you happen to have made a brilliantly conceived toy out of the mummified remains of planets . . .” For all of his clowning, the Doctor can be deadly serious. “What’s it for?” he demands. “What could possibly be worth all this?”

“By the raging fury of the sky demon, you ask too many questions! You have seen; you have admired. Be satisfied and ask no more!”

The Doctor, of course, is never satisfied and will never ask no more. And so he finds his way to the Mentiad’s lair, to the Captain’s bridge, to Xanxia’s throne room, to the Captain’s trophy room, and to the buried surface of the consumed planet Calufrax. Calufrax is the original planet to which the Key to Time core led the Doctor and Romana, and it is the current planet engulfed by the pirate planet Zanak. And it also happens to be the second segment.

“But we can’t move that,” Romana protests when the Doctor explains that Calufrax, now reduced to its shrunken husk in the trophy room, is the segment for which they search. “If we do, we’ll just upset the whole system and create a gravity whirlpool.”

“Not if I do something immensely clever,” the Doctor replies. Never satisfied; always clever. That is the Doctor.

It is a bit of a whimper of an end for the Captain and Xanxia, though, and it all happens too quickly. The Captain tries his scheme against the Queen (despite the Doctor’s warning that it won’t work) but the Queen rather over dramatically pushes a convenient button to sabotage the Captain’s cybernetic parts and then Xanxia, or rather the projection of Xanxia as the nurse, disappears.  The rest is wrapped up in some Doctor Who wizardry that the Doctor explains, somehow using the gravity field of a hyperspatial force field to drop the shrunken planets into the hollow center of Zanak, with Calufrax spinning off to be picked up later by the Doctor. As for Xanxia and the time dams—“blow them up.”

I was sorry to see the abrupt end of the Captain. This blustery pirate with his deadly robotic Polyphase Avitron parrot (“When someone fails me, someone dies!”), and his plank that he makes the Doctor walk, and his cybernetic parts; this mastermind of “one of the most heinous crimes ever committed in this galaxy” is rather touching in the end. “My soul is imprisoned,” he laments, “bound to this ugly lump of blighted rock; beset by zombie Mentiads and interfering Doctors.” He is as much a victim as a villain, and his leave-taking of his right hand man, the long-suffering Mr. Fibuli, is simple and moving.

“You don’t want to take over the universe, do you?” the Doctor asks the Captain. “No. You wouldn’t know what to do with it, beyond shout at it.”

No, the Captain only wants to be free. “I come in here to dream of freedom,” he says of the trophy room. If it were not for the billions of lost lives these trophies represent, the Captain would almost be a noble soul.

Before taking leave of The Pirate Planet, Gary, I have to discuss “Newton’s revenge.” It is a rather funny bit as the Doctor tampers with the wiring of the anti-inertia corridor he and Romana have just exited. The guards in pursuit behind them come hurtling out and slam into the wall (“conservation of momentum is a very important law in physics”).  The Doctor then goes on to claim that he explained the concept of gravity to Newton (“dropped an apple on his head”). One more name-dropping in a long line.

But I must take leave of this second installment to The Key to Time.

Moons of madness, Gary; I hope you enjoyed this segment as much as I.

The Ribos Operation

Dear Gary—

I absolutely love The Ribos Operation; in fact, I love the entire Key to Time season. I have to remark, Gary, that by and large, as a rule, for the most part, I detest season long story arcs. I view them as a lack of faith in the show and its format. However, the Key to Time season long story arc is an exception.

The Key to Time arc, clearly announcing itself at the beginning of the season, embraces and complements the format of Doctor Who.

“Doctor, you have been chosen for a vitally important task,” the White Guardian informs the Doctor. His mission: to retrieve the six far flung and disguised segments of the Key to Time required to restore balance in the universe.

Simple, and if it sounds familiar Gary, think back to the William Hartnell story The Keys of Marinus. The Keys of Marinus was in many ways a Key to Time season in microcosm. I loved The Keys of Marinus, so the Key to Time season is in good company. And like the individual episodes of The Keys of Marinus, each serial comprising this Key to Time season is an independent storyline that stands on its own.

The Ribos Operation is the first installment introducing the White Guardian and his task. It also introduces the Doctor’s new companion Romana (Romanadvoratnelundar—“I’m so sorry about that; is there anything we can do?"). And again I have to say it, Gary. I absolutely love Romana (Mark I).

Mary Tamm as Romana—she is truly “the noblest Romana of them all.”

To begin, she is gorgeous. Cool and patrician. Sophisticated and refined. Intelligent and confident. And yet . . . there is a naïve quality to her and a warmth and depth that humanizes her in unexpected ways.

The natural antagonism of the set up is not ignored (“We have a negative empathy, Doctor”). Two Time Lords, both supremely intelligent and confident; one a hot-shot recent grad and one an experienced time traveling veteran; one foisted upon the other against his wishes. This is quite an interesting dynamic and it could have so easily gone wrong but it is handled with delicacy.

“Well,” the Doctor tells Romana, “I’d like you to stay out of my way as much as possible and try to keep out of trouble. I don’t suppose you can make tea?”

However, Romana is not your typical companion handing out test tubes and compliments: “Doctor, you’re not giving me a chance. It’s funny, you know, but before I met you I was even willing to be impressed.” And when the Doctor sulks (“You’re sulking.” “I’m not sulking.”), she is not one to cajole, conciliate, or kid him out of his mood: “That’s ridiculous for somebody as old as you are.” Finally she concludes that the Doctor is “suffering from a massive compensation syndrome.”

Romana is a Time Lord fresh from the Academy (“with a triple first”) and as such has all of the detachment of a Time Lord, but at only 139 (“I’m nearly 140, you know”)she is inexperienced and impressionable, the perfect student to take Leela’s place under the Doctor’s tutelage.

And that is where this relationship succeeds. Because at 139 Romana is still a student willing to learn. She never becomes defensive; she will stand by her point, but if proven wrong she takes it as a lesson learned and does not resent the fact. As the Doctor slowly begins to realize this a mutual respect arises between the two.  

As long as the Doctor can feel in charge: “Ground rules: rule one, do exactly as I say; rule two, stick close to me; and rule three, let me do all the talking.”

Once the ground rules are established and Romanadvoratnelundar is shortened to Romana ("it’s either Romana or Fred”), the two can get down to the serious business of finding the first segment to the Key to Time on the planet of Ribos where they have been led by the core.

And again I say: I absolutely love The Ribos Operation. Apart from the Key to Time set up, apart from the introduction of Romana, I love the story itself. This is a story without a monster. This is a story without a wrong to right. It hearkens back to early Doctor Who, William Hartnell Doctor Who, when the Doctor got caught up in events despite himself.

There is intrigue, there is villainy, but “that’s no business of ours, Doctor,” Romana points out. “I agree,” concurs the Doctor, “I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” The Doctor and Romana are on Ribos for one purpose and one purpose only, and that is to find the first segment. It is this search which leads them into the middle of trouble, for it is the jethrik that is both the segment and the heart of the intrigue.

To get the jethrik/key segment, the Doctor and Romana have to get past the shrivenzale, the Shrieve Captain, Garron and his sidekick Unstoffe, and the Graff Vynda-K and his sidekick Sholakh. What fun it all is.

“Please don’t panic, Romana. Come and sit down . . . . Listen, when you’ve faced death as often as I have, this is much more fun.” Patiently teaching Romana as he chatters about jethrik with Garron while a death sentence hangs over his head, the Doctor gathers intelligence.

Garron and Unstoffe are con men intent on selling Ribos to the power hungry and mad Graff Vynda-K, with the planted lump of jethrik (“the rarest and most valuable element in the galaxy”) as bait. Unfortunately they have been found out and are being held under guard (Romana and the Doctor assumed as co-conspirators), but not before Unstoffe made off with the jethrik and the Graff’s gold.

A simple enough plot, a straight-forward story. The Doctor and Romana, on their own simple and straight-forward quest, caught up in events. What makes everything work, as in so many Doctor Who serials, is the high quality writing and the fabulous supporting cast. The Ribos Operation is chock full of great guest appearances.

It is not just the inspired teams of Garron and Unstoffe and Graff Vynda-K and Sholakh, but there is the added bonus of Binro the Heretic, not to mention the more limited roles of the Shrieve Captain and the Seeker (“All but one of us is doomed to die.”). Everyone is top notch and each is relevant to the plot.

I’ll start with Binro, arguably the least relevant character, yet the one character who adds the most depth. Binro is introduced in the third episode as a means of escape for Unstoffe, and the story could have easily left it at that. Instead we get a richly realized and touching individual, Binro the Heretic. “I know what it’s like when every man’s hand is against you,” he tells Unstoffe, and he goes on to relate his tragic history. Condemned for heresy for daring to postulate there are other worlds than Ribos, tortured and forced to recant, now living in the worst sort of squalor, broken and alone.

It is not only the story that is elevated by Binro but Unstoffe as well. The role of Unstoffe had settled comfortably into the caricature of stooge to Garron, but when he meets up with Binro he is given added dimension. “I know it for a fact,” he tells Binro of those other worlds. “One day, even here, in the future,” he continues, “men will turn to each other and say Binro was right.” It is one of those quiet, touching little moments in Doctor Who that always impresses me. After his encounter with Binro, and when he is reunited with Garron, Unstoffe seems a more thoughtful, insightful person, no longer merely a stooge but now something of a gentle conscience to the grifter Garron.

I can’t leave off without saying a word about the Graff Vynda-K (one of the all time great character names). “No one makes a fool of the Graff Vynda-K and lives.” This exiled tyrant intent on amassing an army to retake his throne could have turned into a stereotypical raving maniac. Instead there is a certain nobility in his mania as he takes a tender parting from his deceased general and gives final instructions to the last of his “Levithian Invincibles.” Then he draws one in to his mad world of glory as he soliloquizes his past battles, walking off through the catacombs to his end. I do find the Doctor’s rather flippant attitude to the fatal joke he has played on the Graff to be off-putting, but it is the only quibble I have with this story.

The Ribos Operation is not only well written and acted but it looks good too. Ribos is a backward, medieval planet but rich in ceremony, ritual, and superstition, and the costumes fit sumptuously in with this atmosphere. The shrivenzale could be a tad scarier, but then it spends most of its time in a drugged stupor and is not meant to pose any real kind of serious threat. The make-up and costume for the Seeker, too, is very effective, and I have to say that I envy Romana her dress and that marvelous matching coat that the Doctor somehow comes up with for her to wear.

Even the jethrik (scringe stone) is impressive (“You hang a bit o’ that around your neck and you won’t never suffer from the scringes no matter how cold it be.”). Ah yes, the jethrik, what it has all been about. Jethrik, without which “there would be no space warping.” This one magnificent lump of jethrik that has enough power for an entire battle fleet. It is this piece of beautiful blue stone that Garron has been carting about the universe to lure his prey that is in reality the first segment of the Key to Time. (Lucky for the Time Lords, the White Guardian, and the stability of the universe that Garron never sold this piece of jethrik for the power it harnesses.)

The jethrik, planted by Garron and Unstoffe in the relic room, stolen out again by Unstoffe, pursued by the Graff through the catacombs, switched out for a bomb by the Doctor, lifted by Garron and pick pocketed back again by the Doctor—sleight of hand, he was trained by Maskelyne.

“Simple, wasn’t it? Only five more to go.” Five more segments, five more stories. I’m looking forward and sending this out, Gary, forever hoping . . .