For a long time, the curmudgeonly
side of me has fretted over The Three Doctors. It can’t be denied that
from a design and directorial perspective, it looks bloody awful. Aside from
the quite magnificent TARDIS interior, the sets are bare and dull. Omega’s fortress
is embarrassingly dressed with obvious green paint smears and the tiniest
television screens embedded in the ugly walls, and the unpainted grey flats elsewhere
are adorned with curving gelly architraves. The anti-matter video blob eats
away at the UNIT lab and with everything it devours, makes the set look more and
more depressing. Bluntly, it’s as cheap and nasty as 70s television gets.
Lennie Mayne does nothing to disguise the end of term, “that’ll do” feel, using
boring cross-fades to vanish our cast through the distinctly unimpressive pillar
of smoke at the story’s close and lazy instant cuts to introduce the
gel-guards. There’s a nifty attempt at shooting the quarry from a jaunty angle at
one point and the shot where the Doctor, Jo and Tyler are beset by a circle of
explosions is admittedly powerful but there’s no craftsmanship on display here,
not even a sense of any real pace.
Excluding the Doctor and Jo, characters
too are slight, ill-defined and charmless, with only Benton coming out with any
dignity. The Brigadier is so softened as to become a nitwit, refusing to
believe the evidence of his own eyes and the word of a man in whom he has put
his trust for the last four years. Yes, he has some corking gags but this is the
first time he’s seemingly appearing in a comedy and it’s a big, unwelcome shift
from even The Time Monster, the previous story. Mr Ollis is a man with red
hair and a gun nobody uses. His wife isn’t even particularly alarmed when he disappears.
Rex Robinson’s aforementioned Tyler is a peculiarly and annoyingly thick
professor whose credentials extend to him writing E = MC2 in the sand
because that’s what clever people do when they’ve been transported to a world
of anti-matter. It’s a far cry from the lovely Doctor Carter he’ll play in the
same writers’ The Hand of Fear a few years later.
Bringing us to the script: the notorious
Bristol Boys Bob Baker and Dave Martin’s third for the series and actually, for
all the re-writes and last-minute changes wrought on it, they come out shining.
We start off innocuously (and the
opening sequence isn’t helped by Lennie Mayne’s flat, empty direction – seriously,
it’s a new season and the first few shots are unremittingly dull) with a jeep that
isn’t a UNIT jeep driving about the home counties tepidly. We’re dangerously
close to Last of the Summer Wine heights of boredom within two minutes. It’s
difficult to believe the same man directed The Curse of Peladon with such
Gothic panache the year before. However, the nebulous nature of the threat means
that when we discover it is hunting the Doctor, an element of the mythic suddenly
rears its head and when the Time Lords arrive, sold to us majestically by
Dudley Simpson, we’re in brand new - suddenly riveting - territory. The show is
at once aware of its history, revelling in it, and like The Day of the
Doctor, the episodes put our hero at their centre. This is not the Doctor
having adventures; this is an adventure about the Doctor. Or Doctors.
Adding to this emphasis on the
show’s own lore comes Omega, the inventor or time travel who should have been a
God. It is here where the script perhaps works best of all. Omega is
frightening and tragic in equal measure. The Catch-22 situation he finds
himself in at the story’s conclusion is unenviable in the extreme, however
deranged and dangerous he might seem. The dark side of his mind is demonic and
weird. Despite Stephen Thorne’s terrific operatic grandeur, his most unsettling
moment comes when casually discussing the end of the universe as an “interesting
spectacle.”
The script is not without its
problems though. After the two Doctors meeting brings such vitality to
proceedings, they are then split up for the entirety of Episode Two at the end
of which the Second Doctor needs the First Doctor to tell him the solution which
is an exact repeat of the Third Doctor’s decision at the episode’s opening. The
recorder finding itself at the centre of a mobile forcefield box (hitherto unseen
in the story) feels like a clumsily improvised Get Out of Jail Free
card. And Tyler’s self-confessed “waste
of time” run-around is indicative of a script which has had quite a few gaps plugged
to bring it up to 25 minutes, including Benton’s unnecessary chewing gum
throwing scene.
The stand-out aspect of The Three
Doctors is undoubtedly the joyous interaction between Jon Pertwee and Patrick
Troughton. As lovely and important as it is to see William Hartnell again, the
man is clearly ill and can’t negotiate even his autocue. It’s sad but it allows
Pertwee and Troughton to take centre stage. Troughton positively revels. He’s
back and it’s about him. This gives Pertwee some competitive ammunition to play
the hero with even more gusto than he already had, his final searing “Take it!”
command to Omega proof that this really is his show. Despite the celebratory
feel to Troughton’s return, and the general, slightly smug, self-congratulatory
air, the story feels like something of an anomaly before the Third Doctor’s
adventures continue in earnest forever onward. Perhaps this Doctor Who Festival
out-of-the-ordinary story would have been better positioned later in the season,
a respite between the real stuff. It doesn’t feel typical of the series that
follows; more a holiday special. That said, it does have buckets of charm, means
so well and it ends with the promise of better to come. Because the Third Doctor
is now free and we’re entering new territory.
What better way to showcase the
possibilities of both interstellar and time travel than with a veritable Carnival
of Monsters? On paper, this show has everything: historical sojourns in the
Indian Ocean, two alien planets, a dinosaur, Cybermen, Ogrons, Drashigs, Inter Minorans,
a pair of galactic circus entertainers, rebelling functionaries. This is so
full of spectacle and despite its reach, Robert Holmes’s script is notably
tight and focussed. As the first true maiden voyage for the Third Doctor, Carnival
of Monsters does a far better job of showcasing the madness and joie de
vivre of Doctor Who than the earlier attempt: Colony in Space.
The show is rightly heralded by fans
but never seems to win polls or be outed by anyone as a true classic. This seems
a fair approach in celebrating Carnival of Monsters. The cleverness of paralleling
the Doctor and Jo with Vorg and Shirna is something of a masterstroke. The only
problem is Lesley Dwyer is playing Vorg, an actor who seems to play against
the showmanship of the part and instead delivers a flat, ordinary performance.
Imagine Vorg played by Christopher Benjamin or even Sylvester McCoy and the idea
of watching Carnival of Monsters becomes much more alluring. The parallel
plotting works as scripted, allowing the narrative essentially two motors, but
given the performances, we always feel as if we’d rather be with the infinitely
more charming Jon Pertwee and Katy Manning than the more colourfully dressed,
less colourfully acted inhabitants of Inter Minor.
Visually, Carnival is far
more arresting than its immediate predecessor but still comes away lacking in
parts. The Inter Minoran spaceport looks like anything but a spaceport and
there’s no real sense that Vorg and Shirna are being held there or that there
is a world beyond the sets for them to escape to. The interior of the Miniscope
also feels too spacious and too easily navigable. However, the scenes on the SS
Bernice and those on the Drashig home-world have a richer hue about them. There
is an eerie stillness to the alien marshlands, and a tangibility about the ship,
even down to the fezzed-up deckhands. From a design perspective, Carnival
is at odds with itself and as disparate and sporadic as the monsters of its peepshow.
As a child, the very title Carnival
of Monsters conjured up an imagination of possibilities. Thankfully, the
Drashigs do not disappoint in the monstrous stakes. Their bursting from the swamp
at the close of Episode Two, screaming, is this hotch-potch of a story’s defining
moment, perhaps made even more powerful by the inclusion of the disappointing Plesiosaurus
in the Indian Ocean in Episode One. That the two hand puppets of such diametrically
opposed quality appear in the same show is perhaps indicative of the overall
quality of Carnival. It has moments of true greatness and moments in
which its quality is chiefly suspect.
If Doctor Who has a space opera
story, then it is Frontier in Space. Its first episode feels small and not
quite illustrative of the planet-hopping galaxy traveller it becomes. When the
Ogrons arrive fifteen minutes in, there’s a feeling that the show’s makers have
a confidence in this ever-expanding universe to make ties across stories and
seasons. Far from making the series feel smaller, it enriches it. It’s telling
that the surprise of the Daleks in Episode Six still feels like just that. Even
though we have followed their henchmen for five episodes, the gorilla-men are still
credibly working simply for the Master. Bringing their real bosses out of
hiding at the last minute gives Frontier an unexpected jump-start just
as things are in danger of becoming comfortable.
If Doctor Who has a story which
essentially repeats the capture-escape routine, then it is Frontier in Space.
At times, this repetition is in danger of becoming wearisome but with each new
setting comes a new set of characters to meet and new problems to solve. The
section of the story on the moon prison feels remote and without the TARDIS
loses its comforting safety net. The section of the story on Draconia feels
regal and grand, John Woodnutt giving his Emperor a forthright resolution. The
final episode feels different again, cramming its plot into the final few
minutes of the adventure and not really resolving matters, relationships
between Earth and Draconia already solved before the trip to the planet of the
Ogrons. Structurally, Frontier could be seen as a bit of a mess. It doesn’t
really know where its end point is and becomes a series of literal episodes as opposed
to a holistic narrative. It’s not the destination but the ride that is important
here and it is a very entertaining ride.
If Doctor Who has a story which
fudges its ending, then it is Frontier in Space. Sadly, the fact that
this is the great Roger Delgado’s last performance in the show makes the final
scenes even more heart-breaking in their unfinished state. However, the production
team weren’t to know of the tragedy that awaited Delgado and, given the sheer
class of the man himself, it’s a joy to be in his company at all. His relish in
sending out the homing signal to his Ogron ship from the bed of his prison cell
is a lovely moment. His glee in reading HG Wells is palpable. His infuriation
with Jo Grant who will not allow herself to be hypnotised is almost pitiful. Yes,
it’s a shame he never got the send-off he deserved in the series but he can
rest in peace knowing how loved and admired he remains. What a tremendous actor
he was.
Frontier wants to be vast
and expansive and it manages it. Allowing it to be so outlandish is the
contrast with rich domesticity that writer Malcolm Hulke creates in his future
vision of the universe. The ships are cargo ships, as opposed to luxury liners.
The world is still full of picketing rabbles and demonstrations, as opposed to
the oft-imagined utopia of cleaner sci-fi. Despite its setting, Frontier
is as close to 1973 and its politics as The Green Death and is all the
better for it.
Planet of the Daleks is an
unfairly neglected gem of a story. To say it’s a Terry Nation’s Greatest Hits
package is to do it a disservice. Honestly, there are few other Dalek stories
quite like Planet. It’s entirely possible that Planet is Terry
Nation’s Greatest Hit. Forget your Genesis and your Invasion Earth;
Planet has more of a sense of pace and urgency about it, never settling,
jeopardy after jeopardy thrown into a melting pot of pulpy richness. What seems
to be a story about invisible Daleks is suddenly a story about an ice volcano,
is suddenly a story about a gallant flight up a cooling shaft, is suddenly
about surviving the night in a jungle, is suddenly about the prevention of a
plague, is suddenly about a Dalek army awakening. I don’t care that the show is
perhaps shallower than the more pious and lauded Genesis. It rockets
along and is never less than terrifically exciting. If there’s a criticism to
be had, it’s that Prentis Hancock is in it.
The story looks great too. The
jungle sets convince, far better than those of Kinda almost a decade
later, and certainly better lit. The atmosphere persists too. Tentacles, eye-plants
and creatures of the night combine to make the jungle as important a character
as Rebec and Latep. Planet perhaps feels so archetypal because of the
confidence and solidity of the ideas put forward. You could probably swear that
ice volcanoes appear in more than this one Doctor Who story; not so. The lift
shaft scenes bear a passing resemblance to others in the series, but here they’re
used to propel our heroes ever downwards, into yet greater danger. There is
such defined geography to Planet of the Daleks, it’s very easy to become
lost in it.
Also noteworthy are the clever foreshadowings
of what is to come for Jo Grant. Across the season, her growing maturity is an
ever-present narrative thread. In The Three Doctors, she is her usual
brave but reckless self, following the Doctor out of the TARDIS at the close of
Episode One against advice. By Carnival, she is suggesting ideas and
stealing keys for locked doors as a matter of course. Frontier allows her
to face-off against the Master and she gives as good as she gets. Here in Planet,
she is gifted an entire episode as the lead and Katy Manning excels. If there
is a story across the Season, it is that of Jo Grant’s coming of age. Towards
the close of Planet, she is finally allowed to be a woman, the poor, smitten
Latep leaving Spiridon like a Love Island reject after falling head over heels for
Jo’s charms.
And The Green Death really
is the story of Jo Grant. There is the attendant ecological message, the
infamous maggots, the bravura, sinister performance from Jerome Willis (a villain
often overlooked in the pantheon of Who’s human enemies) and the location filming
all vying for the attention of a reviewer. But it is the widening rift between
the Doctor and Jo that becomes apparent from Episode One which is the best
thing about The Green Death and permeates the remainder of the story
with its shockingly realistic, unflinching heart. Pertwee is a jealous Dad, steering
Cliff away from Jo in the best scene in Episode Three (and there are lots to
choose from). His reluctance to celebrate with Jo at the finish says more than
any scripted words could. There is a devastating awkwardness to the emotions at
play in The Green Death. The Doctor’s trip to Metebelis 3 feels like a
man cutting his nose off to spite his face, the result of a Time Lord temporal
tantrum. Captain Yates is having obvious difficulties in letting Jo go, but Jon
Pertwee’s Doctor will never be the same again.
The last two stories in this
season are masterfully directed: David Maloney and Michael E Brient heroes of
the era and unremarked upon in the first-class Ed Stradling directed documentary
Doctor Who and the Third Man elsewhere on the box set. However enjoyable
Maloney’s Planet of the Daleks is, however, it is Brient’s The Green
Death which is the season’s biggest success. It is structurally odd. Episode
One includes the bizarre trip off-world, far more appealing and atmospheric a
venture than Metebelis 3 would be during next year’s Planet of the Spiders.
Episode Two spends a good deal of time looking for some elusive cutting
equipment. Overall though, this is a production team at the height of its powers,
creating a work of stirring confidence, cutting-edge in its messages and unapologetic
in its heart. As the apotheosis of the collective achievements of Barry Letts,
Terrance Dicks, Jon Pertwee, Katy Manning and Nicholas Courtney, The Green
Death is far worthier a finish to the era than the more uneven and occasionally
vacuous Planet of the Spiders. The Green Death is a totem of
Doctor Who story-telling thanks in no small part to Letts and co-writer Robert
Sloman, and one of the greatest productions the show has ever birthed. Season
10 ends on a transcendentally high note.
This boxset is one of ever-improving
standards. From the happy-go-lucky, slightly naff looking Three Doctors
to the superlative heights of that final party scene of The Green Death,
the season gets better and better. If I were to give 10/10 scores to each story
here, the order would probably read (quite pleasingly) 6,7,8,9,10. Whilst I
started the boxset unconvinced by the merits of this year’s worth of tales, the
cumulative effect of increasingly strong narrative and character work means that
one leaves the series completely devastated. Katy Manning’s departure is felt
and real and golden and everything that has come before, including those slightly
naff moments, have built to this, meaning that they become just as treasurable
and important as The Green Death.
*
This boxset includes all the
previously released DVD special features as well as the aforementioned Third
Man era documentary which showcases erudite and engrossing conversations
between Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Matthew Sweet which shed new light on a
time we now know very well. Chris Chapman’s documentary Looking for Lennie
is poignant and special. The new CG enhancements on Planet of the Daleks
are subtle improvements which help affect the story’s verisimilitude. The chromakey
fringing has been removed and the invisible Spiridons now feel almost real. Best
of all though is the unmasking of the invisible Dalek at the close of Episode
One. He’s now gun grey as opposed to fuzzy gold and that cliff-hanger, along
with the many, many great cliff-hangers of this season is finally given a
chance to really shine. I cannot stress enough the quality of these Blu Ray
treatments. From the beautiful packaging and artwork through to the restoration
and new special features, they are the definitive exploration of our favourite
show and seem only to be going from strength to strength. I cannot bloody wait
for September’s Trial. Thank you so much, Russell Minton, Chris Chapman,
Ed Stradling, Mark Ayres, Peter Crocker and Lee Binding. Heroes all.
JH
JH
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