This month: Philip Madoc
Philip Madoc was one of the great
champions of Doctor Who in our house, growing up. Right now, one of my brothers
is loving him in The Life and Times of
David Lloyd George. Another brother is loving him in Last of the Mohicans. Another, along with me, is loving him in
Doctor Who. Yes, we happy four, we band of brothers form a small but vocal Philip
Madoc fan club. I am even the proud owner of a BBC poetry CD in which Madoc
recites the great works of Chaucer in Medieval English. Oh, what a treat that
it.
He cheers up Daleks’ Invasion Earth 2150AD no end just as it’s in danger of
becoming stale. The camera loves him: it lingers on him as he smiles cheekily
before dragging on his spitty little fag, teeth pearly white, hair
brill-creamed back and dressed like Columbo. His resolute lack of emotion - be
that joy, callousness, envy, hatred (take your pick from the entire gamut) - as
he kicks over Peter Cushing’s potential breakfast is priceless. Like his
character, Madoc is one on his own here, seemingly refusing to integrate with
the rest of the cast. When that shed explodes with him in it, so does a little
part of that film’s beauty.
In The Krotons, he is a portly, little thing, angry and taut.
Truncated by a costume that would leave Daniel Craig looking awkward, it’s
amazing that Madoc gets to the end of The
Krotons with any dignity at all. Nobody else does, apart from perhaps
Patrick Troughton and even he suffers a fish-eye close up of his elaborate
chin. Madoc begins proceedings like a pantomime page boy, one foot jauntily
angled towards the irritatingly bad James Copeland, presumably to put him off
his dull speech. Madoc waits for Copeland to carry on about his “companyons of
the Krotons,” lets him to finish, then gives a tiny, embarrassed, knowing nod
before administering some gowns. It’s as if he’s aware how bad Copeland is and
he’s on our side. He knows we’re finding it just as excruciating as he is. Madoc
decides to duck Episode Two but returns in full force in Episode Three,
delivering banal speeches about “a little more time” as if he’s giving us his
Hamlet or even his Magua, dressed as he is, tomahawk by his waist. Here is a
man whose slings and fireballs are in no doubt.
Quite miraculously, by the time The War Games comes along only a few months
later, Madoc has completely transformed his physical frame. He is slimmer,
shorter, lizard-like and alert, like a meerkat wearing googly eyes. He moves
very little, only twitches of his head and widening eyes conveying his threat,
which dazzlingly is tangible and felt (especially compared to the louder, more
brash, less effective menace of the War and Security Chiefs). He seems to be
doing so little and yet here is a fully-formed instantly believable and deeply
sinister villain. When Madoc enters the fray in Episode Seven, The War Games gets a hell of a lot more
interesting. His terror when looking to the heavens at the close of Episode
Nine and muttering, “They are coming” is terrifically unsettling.
A few regenerations later, Madoc
is back for The Brain of Morbius,
perhaps his tour de force. Madoc plays Professor Solon archly, a definite
twinkle spicing up his more banal lines. “Noooooo, that won’t do,” he whines
early on before tersely snapping, “That is an insect!” His ability to bring
life into the most melodramatic, sometimes clumsy line is incredible. “You’ve
been looking for that arm again, haven’t you?” he murmurs at his one-armed
bandit, Condo. The delightfulness of this ridiculously clunky moment is that
Madoc carries it off with aplomb. Water off a duck’s back to him is this kind
of awkward scripting blunder. As the Doctor arrives, Madoc breezes through his
“What a magnificent head,” with an unusually ordinary and sharp relish. He
never seems to realise, despite the Doctor and Sarah’s bemused looks, that he
comes across as completely barking. It’s Madoc’s knowing ignorance that is the
adorable charm of Professor Solon.
His final appearance in The Power of Kroll may be the poorest
part bestowed to this paragon of the acting world but his obvious disdain for
the job shines through blissfully. “God, Philip looks bored, doesn’t he?” says
Tom Baker on the DVD commentary and it’s true. Madoc’s face is a picture of
bulldog apathy, his jowls forever curled downwards, his lines mumbled and
without energy. “You know, I don’t particularly like the Swampies, but I can’t
say I really hate them,” he snarks with all the commitment of a disaffected
music teacher. It’s Fenner’s best line.
Now, you might be forgiven for
thinking that the end of Philip Madoc’s Who career but it was to continue into
the DVD range as well as a couple of Big Finish Productions. Notably though,
his hour came in: Philip Madoc: A Villain
for All Seasons. Orange faced and sporting a white beard, he appears to
have regenerated again into a short Tom Jones with better teeth. A one-man
interview show, Madoc is given his opportunity to shine once more and shine he
does. He greets us with pearls of wisdom. “Peter Cushing was a true gentleman,
one of the nicest human beings I have ever known.” His wilful glee when
promoting the idea of the return of the War Lord is hilarious. “I wasn’t
killed. I was dematerialised.” Long pause. “I like that idea,” and he smiles
hugely. Of Fenner he states contemptuously, “He wasn’t coming from anywhere and
he wasn’t going anywhere.” But in the end, for a man with a rich and varied
career, he is charm incarnate: “I can’t say I hate you for only remembering me
in these three or four shows.” He then reminds us of what we already knew.
“They’re not bad shows. In fact, there are some very, very good shows.” Thanks
Philip.
JH
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