The Collection – Season 2 Blu Ray
What a tremendous undertaking this
Blu Ray release is, not just for the avid Who viewer but for the talented team
of documentary-makers and perhaps more importantly the sound and visual
restorers of these incredible looking episodes, hitting a Blu Ray milestone at
a massive 37 instalments (plus 2 very fine reconstructions). This is the
biggest Blu-Who hit so far. I’ve never had the joy of viewing this season in order
before. The Time Meddler’s 1992 repeat and The Chase’s Dalek VHS
tin release of 1993 were my introduction to Season 2 at the tender age of
seven. Back then, my opinions were clear: Time Meddler was moody but
boring, The Chase was funny and thrilling. Now, given the intervening
years of discovering Season 2 in different forms (VHS and DVD editions or UK
Gold repeats spanning almost a decade), I come finally to this masterful
release and get to watch it in order. It’s the story of Doctor Who’s growth
from naivety and self-importance to maturity and expansion. These are the
stories on which Doctor Who has been hitherto built and even almost 60 years
later, they’re incredibly powerful and awe-inspiring.
We begin with a held over story
from Season One and it certainly feels like a relic of a simpler time. The story’s
pace, as noted by the BBC high-ups, is sluggish. Its problem lies in the fact
that the episodes take place in real time, so we end up watching the TARDIS
crew pace from one - admittedly tremendous - set to the next with no real sense
of energy and the cameras pan across with them into new elements such as the –
admittedly tremendous – giant ants or giant flies which the characters would
have been able to see if only they’d shunted along a little faster or perhaps
just opened their eyes. Whilst the design work stuns, Raymond Cusick and Barry
Newbury proving bona fide heroes across the season (all their work dazzles), the
otherwise inventive director Mervyn Pinfield, can’t get past the 50s style of
camera movement, the characters unnaturally noticing things as they appear on
the screen, rather than as they would spot them in reality. The same problem persists
in the later, similarly plodding Space Museum which, despite an
arresting first episode, then falls into this story’s similar trap of watching
the heroes walk around the setting in real time. Sadly, on that occasion, the sets
are all life-size.
Conversely, at the other end of
the season, we have episode one of The Time Meddler which exemplifies a
completely different approach to camerawork and storytelling, and it feels far
more modern. Almost a year apart, the stark difference between where Doctor Who
was and where it is going is marked. Here, the 25 minutes cover a whole
evening, the sun falling away into the darkness of the episode’s climax.
Although it feels relatively leisurely, the idea that we follow the lead
characters in their every move is now a thing of the past and we can span a
greater timeframe than at the season’s outset and a greater breadth of
locations. It’s what gives The Romans its grand sense of scope. The
back-projected sky here in Time Meddler is a touch of genius from
director Douglas Camfield who, ironically cut his teeth on the final truncated
episode of Planet of Giants. The boy’s obviously learnt a lot over the year
and - like his designers - makes for a key player in Team Season 2.
Camfield’s episodes of The Crusade
and The Time Meddler are positively sumptuous. There’s a rich confidence
in their rigorous approach to television-making. The forests in both convince
far more than, say, the jungles of Mechanus with its drab studio floor and
invasive studio cameras. It’s a marvel to see Camfield come to life with his exciting
film-work early in the newly remastered and now beautiful-looking The Lion.
It’s terrifically shot action followed by the slow, lingering shot later in The
Wheel of Fortune of Saladin talking almost directly to camera. Here’s a
director with a keen sense of comparison, pace, story-telling and beauty. It’s
a heart-breaking irony that The Crusade may be the masterpiece of Season
2 we’ll never get to fully enjoy. Derek Handley’s excellent reconstructions go
a good way to helping us understand what it may have been like though and they’re
very welcome for this reviewer who feels as if he’s finally experienced the
story, as near as dammit, in full. Thankfully, the story’s best scene comes at
the end of Part Three, in which two of Doctor Who’s later guest stars prove
their brilliance in a fiery row in which the offscreen Pope destroys the King’s
desperate plans and tears out his fighting heart. It’s also William Hartnell’s
best performance in a season full of tremendous moments for him as an actor.
Christopher Barry also excels as
director on six episodes here. The Rescue is a perfect little vignette,
introducing Vicki with well-scripted efficiency, a strong performance and acute
direction. Barry proves in The Romans that he can give us action (the
dynamic sinking of Chesteron’s ship) and comedy (the way the camera pans round
before Derek Francis’s exquisitely timed coo-ey wave to Barbara). These are
masterclasses in how to do successful 60s sci-fi and successful 60s romp. Those
early scenes with our TARDIS crew whiling away the hours in the villa are completely
charming. Vicki’s invitation at the end of The Rescue must have been
irresistible and it’s in these six episodes we see how perfectly she slots into
place in this very effective TARDIS team.
At the bleaker end of the
directorial scale comes Richard Martin, a notoriously contention auteur. Martin
provides a useful backbone to Steve Broster’s Season 2 Era documentary (Flight
Through Eternity) which suffers slightly from its key players no longer
being with us, but on the evidence of Martin’s episodes here, he’s the one
fellow you wouldn’t want to employ again. The Dalek Invasion of Earth is
his best work but even there, he misses out on key moments. Where is that iconic
shot of the Daleks crossing the bridge, Big Ben behind them, that made for such
a ubiquitous press photo? When are we going to get a decent shot of the Slyther?
Time and again in a Richard Martin-directed instalment, the cameras and actors
seem to be all at sea. The fight to capture the Dalek saucer at the end of Part
Two is a muddled mess, Bernard Kay (so captivating as Saladin in The Crusade)
wondering around as if looking for a lens and some motivation. Images are formed
in cramped three and four-shots on tiny sets which rarely convince. In The
Chase, we see actors waiting for their cue after the cameras have cut to
them. This isn’t a common occurrence in the rest of this 60s season. It’s only
the Martin episodes which feel quite this feeble. He also has a strange
tendency to crash-zoom his cameras into indistinct areas. The cliff-hanger at
the end of Part Three of The Chase exemplifies this best, as Hartnell’s
line is interrupted by a crash-zoom on… some circuitry. Thankfully, Martin’s
got the season’s big blockbusters to bolster his work and it’s probably their all-out
ambition (and inherent sense of fun) that makes up for his fudging of much of them.
Carole Ann Ford’s last scene as
Susan is one of the most magical moments in all of Doctor Who. It epitomises 60s
parental attitudes and William Hartnell is never more on point than here. He’s
dignified and gracious, holding it together before the TARDIS dematerialises
and the studio lights go out. He could be patronising but he’s gentle. He could
be melodramatic but he’s quiet and precise. Hartnell seems to know this is a
moment that will live in history, and he is an absolute boss. When Ian
and Barbara leave in their joyous montage of (incidentally Douglas Camfield directed)
film and photography, we’re left with another golden moment for Billy. His grief
at the loss of his co-stars is palpable. It’s such a shame that a wretched
boom mic seems to conspire to spoil the stillness of this moment of devastation,
but Hartnell emerges victorious. The Web Planet desperately wants to be
a season spectacular too. Admittedly, Part One largely succeeds with its
distinctly weird atmosphere and climate, aside from an otherwise superb
Hartnell experiencing a rare half-hour of dying on stage, the lines always just
beyond his grasp. But for the remainder, there’s too little action and the
performances are too mannered to be comprehensible. The Web Planet is a
story so easy to admire, so ambitious, so beautiful (in terms of costume and
design and the filmed Menoptera invasion is superb) and its rich life outside
the TV show in comics, annuals and other media speaks volumes but it’s so terribly
difficult to genuinely enjoy. All three of Martin’s stories are noisy too,
with music used strangely and creaks and bangs of shambolic studio sessions
immortalised now on Blu Ray in all their wincing beauty.
Highlighting Hartnell’s struggles
in the first episode of The Web Planet leads me to praise him from the
hilt for the many glorious performances he gives elsewhere on this boxset. Watching
in order, there’s a palpable truism to the way in which he mellows after Susan’s
departure. He needs to spoil Vicki, his surrogate grand-daughter to whom he
doesn’t owe the same all-consuming responsibility. From The Rescue, we
see the playful Doctor we have come to know and love arrive. He’s more polite
to Ian and Barbara, more mischievous by the time he reaches Ancient Rome and in
that episode of The Web Planet, he’s near-enough manic. The great, great
scope and journey of this actor’s performance as Doctor Who is a privilege to
be able to enjoy here in 2023 so beautifully remastered, every tic and scowl
and squint, there to see. And Hartnell is so in the moment. His growth across
the season as a leading character is natural and effective and above all,
earned. The loss of his grand-daughter leading him ultimately to be kind.
Watching in sequence also draws out
some lovely continuity. Vicki cheekily asks Barbara to make her a dress in The
Romans. By the time we reach The Chase, Barbara’s making it and ironically,
sadly, it will never get finished. As the Doctor’s relationship with Vicki grows
throughout The Romans, The Web Planet and The Crusade in which
they’re paired together, so Ian and Barbara become heroes in their own right
and the more distant from the Doctor they become. When the chance to leave him
eventually comes, it feels like the right time. The natural order has changed.
The Doctor has his grand-daughter of sorts back with him, and this time she has
nowhere else she wants to be. The kick-arse Maureen O’Brien excels throughout a
season in which she’s given much to do. The actor’s irritation at the way Vicki
was underwritten is perhaps not backed up by the evidence here. Or perhaps her vocalising
her issues propelled writers to throw her into the action. Nevertheless, when
Ian and Barbara are gone on their beautifully understated and romantic bus
ride, the Doctor and Vicki are the true TARDIS unit. And just when you’re
getting used to that idea, the terrific Steven Taylor comes along to add a nuisance
brother to the family mix.
It feels prudent to mention the
qualities of William Russell and Jacqueline Hill here, who are utterly
dependable every single week. They are the touchstones of the series, our ways
in. They act with incredible dignity and understatement throughout and viewing
their very long journeys across the season here, their unflappability and strength,
seems even greater achievements. Miraculously, they’re replaced by Peter
Purves, who provides an equally assured and trustworthy performance. In the
company of these fine actors, we forget they’re acting. They completely inhabit
those roles and make a massive contribution to the show which we’re still
thankful for today.
The Time Meddler is unusual
because cannily, at season’s end, we’re introduced to a brand-new type of Doctor
Who story which asserts that, just as Steven believes, we cannot possibly be in
1066 due to the anachronisms we find ourselves surrounded by. The viewer is
wrongfooted by the wristwatch and when the monks’ chanting hymns suddenly warp
it might be safe to assume that Richard Martin’s back in the gallery, but
Hartnell proves in his sharp, mercurial look that this is for real: things are
about to change. The Doctor seems to know more about The Monk than he’s telling
us, and there’s a real feeling of a shared history, the mystery of which is vividly
exciting. The programme is flexing its wings. There’s no doubting the variety
of story-types on display across this season – from the Saracen hordes to the butterfly
men of Vortis, this show can do anything - but at its finish, we realise that there
are more tricks up our favourite programme’s sleeve. And we end with our three thoroughly
modern heroes, looking out through the stars. Although they may have just
travelled into the past, they are most definitely headed for the future.
Special Features
Leading this box set’s new deluge
of attractive special features are two interviews conducted by the ever-elucidatory
Matthew Sweet, whose knowledge of the show and indeed the pop culture of its respective
eras seems gloriously unending. William Russell and Maureen O’Brien make for the
most charming company. Recorded in 2018, Russell’s elderly appearance belies a
sharp mind, keenly aware of his gentlemanly obligations to his co-stars, about whom
he talks with adoration and happiness. Maureen O’Brien doesn’t have any such
guardedness, exposing Hartnell as a “racist, homophobic” but also brittle man, whose
complicated nature she had to deal with daily. Far from being declamatory
though, O’Brien is humble, self-deprecating and beautifully honest. Both conversations
are incredibly touching and a reminder that although the time we have left with
our beloved heroes is on the wane, their status and our fondness for them will
be eternal.
The aforementioned Flight Through
Eternity from Steve Broster is a strong addition to the now-copious
documentaries spanning whole eras. It’s a lovely touch to use the same
incidental music as was used in the DVD-era’s Origins documentary on
Season One (as well as the Season Three era doc) and feels like a subtle
binding tie across the Hartnell years home video documentation. Whilst the
stories told within are explanatory, amusing and irreverent – Richard Martin and
Peter Purves proving to have meticulous memories! - there’s a feeling that we’re
too late to be told the big ones because the people we need to hear from are no
longer with us. The section on The Crusade, for instance, spends its
time talking about David Whittaker himself rather than the TV serial, whilst The
Space Museum section talks more about changes in the staff office. It’s a
bit of a shame as this is possibly the last time these stories will be regaled in
these talking heads documentaries by those involved. Elsewhere, Broster delivers
a cracking first instalment of Doctor Who and the Collectors, in which
Emily Cook interviews fans with particular penchants for 60s merch. This feels so
fresh and invigorating, an outside-the-Blu-Ray-box thinking, if you will, as to
what could be included. Cook is a refreshing presenter, youthful, excitable and
respectful, and a visible change in a landscape often populated by us white
boys. Best of all though, Chris Chapman’s latest Looking For
investigates the life of David Whitaker, perhaps Doctor Who’s real founding father.
It’s a story of sadness and joy, and seeing and hearing Whitaker on screen
allows him the chance to live again.
With masses of PDF material scanned
by the extremely thorough Richard Bignell (praise be), staggeringly beautiful artwork
(Lee Binding - praise be), and picture and sound restoration of extraordinary
quality (praise be to Peter Crocker and Mark Ayres), this is such a glorious
achievement, ensuring that the Who-Ray range engineered by Russell Minton
(praise be) is the very greatest Doctor Who product on the market. These are
sets which I personally completely cherish. I can’t wait for the next one.
JH
