It probably made sense on paper. I mean, in the script the weirdly-edited assemblage of random shots with the tiny model of Ian falling off the paper-mache cliff, the other tiny model of Ian sliding along the cut-out diagram of the tunnel, and the real Ian suddenly falling into shot on a random set we've never seen before was supposed to be Ian surviving the deadly fall to find himself in just the right place to stop the Dalek bomb by blocking the shaft. The shots of Susan and David doing, um...something, somewhere, with stuff...that was supposed to be them sabotaging vital control systems. And the final explosion of random stock footage...that was meant to be a massive volcanic eruption caused by the Dalek bomb exploding too close to the surface, an eruption that took out all the Dalek saucers in the world, because they just happened to be right overhead, while not at all touching the Doctor who was maybe a few hundred yards away...I did stress "probably", right?
But as filmed, it's barely coherent. I don't mean, "It didn't hang together as a piece of drama." I mean, "Many of the scenes as shot and edited do not form a visual narrative in any sense of the word, leaving the viewer to guess at key plot points at what is supposed to be the climax of the story." I complained about the end of the first Dalek serial not living up to expectations, but at least you could actually tell what was happening on screen. Here, there's way too much that the audience simply has to interpolate. It's an unmitigated disaster, even before you start wondering whether every single Dalek on Earth was really gathered in the same place, let alone whether all the other Daleks in the universe are just going to give up on their big plan now that a few of their saucers have been destroyed.
But let's face it, nobody cares, because we're all paying attention to the last scene. It's equal parts gorgeous and infuriating--on the one hand, the Doctor is incredibly patronizing to Susan, simply taking the decision out of her hands by leaving her behind without giving any consideration to whether she has something with David that will truly be deep and lasting or whether he's consigning her to a life of misery on an alien planet billions of miles and millions of years from home. (For all that John Peel deservedly gets hammered by the fans for 'Legacy of the Daleks', his portrayal of Susan and David's relationship as something less than a happy ending was pretty believable.)
On the other hand, the Doctor is doing what he does from a position of love and understanding. He knows that Susan wouldn't leave him behind even if her heart broke in two from the decision. He knows that a moment like this would happen some day, and that the longer he keeps her with him the more she'll grow to resent it. He knows his granddaughter, and he knows that the right thing to do is to take the decision out of her hands. It's possible to see both of those things in that scene, because everyone involved takes the script and brings out every wonderful nuance of it. (The scene where Carole Ann Ford stares at the space where the TARDIS once was, and you realize she's never seen it dematerialize from the outside before, is a triumph that makes you wish they'd given her something to do on the series before now.)
And so the series changes. Susan is left behind, and with it the idea of the Doctor as someone with a family, someone with a home. Someone human. He's finally free to become a wanderer, completely and fully. The show is now fully free to remake him as a character, and the process of shedding its old skin really kicks into gear here.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
The Waking Ally
I'm sorry, but there's no getting around it--this episode opens with Ian just straight up murdering someone's pet by bashing it with a rock until it falls into a bottomless pit. I have no idea how the RSPCA didn't step in here. I just bet that in between each and every one of his scenes, the Black Dalek went back to his room and just sobbed openly, fondling the Slyther's collar with his sucker and whispering, "Why? Why?"
Okay, maybe not so much so, but it's still interesting to me that this is an era where the Daleks haven't fully ossified as a concept. They're capable of having pets; they view other life-forms as insignificant and not worthy of notice, rather than as targets to be exterminated. They enslave rather than kill for the most part, and even feel outrage at attacks against them (it's surprisingly funny when one of them talks about the "unprovoked attack on our saucer"). They're conquerors, but they're conquerors with a purpose rather than genocidal maniacs. It's a smaller difference between the Daleks then and the Daleks now than it was in their previous appearance, but it's still noticeable. They're still characters and not monsters. That won't last much longer, so enjoy it while it lasts.
The role of "monster" in this story is taken up by the Robomen, as Larry's search for his brother ends the only way it really can in a story like this. It's still a pretty good scene despite the obviousness of the trope, as Larry begs Phil to remember his wife and family and is shot in the gut for his troubles. None of it is surprising--it's all exactly what you would expect, right down to Phil whispering Larry's name as he too dies--but it's still hard to look away as it's happening. The Robomen really are such a good part of this story that it's amazing how rarely they've been used since--they really are more effective at being Cybermen than Cybermen are in some ways, both because they have this wonderfully horrifying air of neglect and despair, and because of the utterly horrific descriptions of their eventual demise ("they go mad, bash their heads against walls...") They're the dehumanization of oppressed people made brutally literal.
Of course, there's also the other kind of dehumanization that happens to oppressed people on display here. Barbara and Jenny's run-in with the collaborators is far more affecting than the Aaru version (what, you think I was going to get through all six episodes without referencing the Aaru version?) precisely because they never get their comeuppance; in the movie, they die the kind of gruesome death that all traitors deserve, but in this version they're out-and-out rewarded for their treachery and deceit. It's the kind of lesson Doctor Who doesn't always teach...sometimes, the bad guys get away with it.
As with the rest of this story, though, the weak point of "The Waking Ally" remains the star and main character. (And presumably the titular waking ally.) Their segment of the episode is nothing more than a slow trip to join the rest of the cast in Bedfordshire, and even the fact that Susan finally gets something useful to do one whole episode before she leaves the series for good doesn't change the fact that all they get is a boring fight scene and a bit of "science-y" exposition that again sounds like the Doctor is suffering from mild aphasia instead of a technical explanation. Again, it's hard not to feel like Nation doesn't feel like he has to try now that the Doctor is firmly cemented as The Hero; he was much more interesting when Nation saw him as a force for chaos rather than writing him as an agent of order.
But at least we're headed for a climax, right? Ian's hiding in a nuclear bomb, Barbara is infiltrating the Dalek headquarters, and the Doctor and Susan...are somewhere in the general vicinity. Better late than never, Doctor!
Okay, maybe not so much so, but it's still interesting to me that this is an era where the Daleks haven't fully ossified as a concept. They're capable of having pets; they view other life-forms as insignificant and not worthy of notice, rather than as targets to be exterminated. They enslave rather than kill for the most part, and even feel outrage at attacks against them (it's surprisingly funny when one of them talks about the "unprovoked attack on our saucer"). They're conquerors, but they're conquerors with a purpose rather than genocidal maniacs. It's a smaller difference between the Daleks then and the Daleks now than it was in their previous appearance, but it's still noticeable. They're still characters and not monsters. That won't last much longer, so enjoy it while it lasts.
The role of "monster" in this story is taken up by the Robomen, as Larry's search for his brother ends the only way it really can in a story like this. It's still a pretty good scene despite the obviousness of the trope, as Larry begs Phil to remember his wife and family and is shot in the gut for his troubles. None of it is surprising--it's all exactly what you would expect, right down to Phil whispering Larry's name as he too dies--but it's still hard to look away as it's happening. The Robomen really are such a good part of this story that it's amazing how rarely they've been used since--they really are more effective at being Cybermen than Cybermen are in some ways, both because they have this wonderfully horrifying air of neglect and despair, and because of the utterly horrific descriptions of their eventual demise ("they go mad, bash their heads against walls...") They're the dehumanization of oppressed people made brutally literal.
Of course, there's also the other kind of dehumanization that happens to oppressed people on display here. Barbara and Jenny's run-in with the collaborators is far more affecting than the Aaru version (what, you think I was going to get through all six episodes without referencing the Aaru version?) precisely because they never get their comeuppance; in the movie, they die the kind of gruesome death that all traitors deserve, but in this version they're out-and-out rewarded for their treachery and deceit. It's the kind of lesson Doctor Who doesn't always teach...sometimes, the bad guys get away with it.
As with the rest of this story, though, the weak point of "The Waking Ally" remains the star and main character. (And presumably the titular waking ally.) Their segment of the episode is nothing more than a slow trip to join the rest of the cast in Bedfordshire, and even the fact that Susan finally gets something useful to do one whole episode before she leaves the series for good doesn't change the fact that all they get is a boring fight scene and a bit of "science-y" exposition that again sounds like the Doctor is suffering from mild aphasia instead of a technical explanation. Again, it's hard not to feel like Nation doesn't feel like he has to try now that the Doctor is firmly cemented as The Hero; he was much more interesting when Nation saw him as a force for chaos rather than writing him as an agent of order.
But at least we're headed for a climax, right? Ian's hiding in a nuclear bomb, Barbara is infiltrating the Dalek headquarters, and the Doctor and Susan...are somewhere in the general vicinity. Better late than never, Doctor!
Sunday, April 5, 2015
The End of Tomorrow
As with pretty much every six-parter, there's at least one episode that does little beyond padding out the run time...and "The End of Tomorrow" is pretty much a textbook stall. It's not a bad stall; the disappearance of Hartnell forces them to give David a bit more to do, which is nice as he's only got a couple more episodes left to become a romantic lead convincing enough to make us believe that Susan would want to stay with him instead of going off with her grandfather. They don't give Susan any of the Doctor's material, of course, but at this point we're all pretty much resigned to seeing Susan reduced to a portable scream.
But really, it's just an exercise in treading water. Ian and Larry wander around the labor camp narrowly avoiding Daleks and Robomen and stock footage; Barbara and Jenny very slowly work their way out of London; Susan and David wander around the sewers. None of it actually moves the plot forward more than a tiny fraction of an inch, but there's lots of incident to make up for the lack of actual events.
To be fair, one thing does happen. Susan and David bump into Tyler, who is quite frankly the most interesting and competent character onscreen right now. Actually, that's not fair to Jenny...she's terrific, and I find myself wishing she could have been a companion. Her over-protestation at the futility of Dortmun's pointless self-sacrifice is absolutely wonderful. Nation's supporting characters give me a lot more faith in his writing abilities than his regulars; Ashton is deliciously and unrepentantly amoral, and even Wells has realistic motivations and sincere heroism behind his trading with the black marketeer. There's a lot of depth to them, and Nation uses the extra time to develop them much better than supporting characters in Doctor Who usually get.
Other than that, there's not much to say about an episode with not much to say. The Dalek plan is still on "simmer", everyone's heading to Bedfordshire to meet Ian but they can't get there too soon, and Nation's run out of people to kill for now (although Ashton bites it, a bit too soon to be honest). Really, all that's left to comment on is the delightful notion of the Black Dalek's pet Slyther...I find myself wanting to know if he enters it in pet shows with Helen A's Stigorax. Do all the Daleks have Slythers? Are they all the rage back on Skaro, now that the fad for Varga plants has passed? Do they cuddle on the Daleks' laps, and get tickles under the chin with the suction cup? I know. I'm overthinking it. But in an episode like this, there's not much else to think about.
But really, it's just an exercise in treading water. Ian and Larry wander around the labor camp narrowly avoiding Daleks and Robomen and stock footage; Barbara and Jenny very slowly work their way out of London; Susan and David wander around the sewers. None of it actually moves the plot forward more than a tiny fraction of an inch, but there's lots of incident to make up for the lack of actual events.
To be fair, one thing does happen. Susan and David bump into Tyler, who is quite frankly the most interesting and competent character onscreen right now. Actually, that's not fair to Jenny...she's terrific, and I find myself wishing she could have been a companion. Her over-protestation at the futility of Dortmun's pointless self-sacrifice is absolutely wonderful. Nation's supporting characters give me a lot more faith in his writing abilities than his regulars; Ashton is deliciously and unrepentantly amoral, and even Wells has realistic motivations and sincere heroism behind his trading with the black marketeer. There's a lot of depth to them, and Nation uses the extra time to develop them much better than supporting characters in Doctor Who usually get.
Other than that, there's not much to say about an episode with not much to say. The Dalek plan is still on "simmer", everyone's heading to Bedfordshire to meet Ian but they can't get there too soon, and Nation's run out of people to kill for now (although Ashton bites it, a bit too soon to be honest). Really, all that's left to comment on is the delightful notion of the Black Dalek's pet Slyther...I find myself wanting to know if he enters it in pet shows with Helen A's Stigorax. Do all the Daleks have Slythers? Are they all the rage back on Skaro, now that the fad for Varga plants has passed? Do they cuddle on the Daleks' laps, and get tickles under the chin with the suction cup? I know. I'm overthinking it. But in an episode like this, there's not much else to think about.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Day of Reckoning
If there's one thing that Terry Nation has a gift for, it's pointless brutality. Um...I mean that in a good way...
It's true, though. One of his greatest skills is in showing unflinchingly a convincing and realistic portrayal of the nasty side of adventure, and "Day of Reckoning" spares no sensibilities in exploring the consequences of Dortmun's defiant stand against the Dalek conquerors. The episode opens with the raid itself--chaotic and violent, filled with death and desperate flight from an enemy that has proven to be invincible. (The sound effects of Dortmun's bombs, which sound like nothing so much as glass Christmas ornaments when they hit the ground, are perhaps not quite right for this, but I'm not sure how exactly you do foley a dud bomb not exploding when it hits the ground.)
The raid also makes the usual splitting up of the cast feel a little less like authorial fiat and more like the entirely believable result of an utter rout. Ian winds up trapped on the Dalek saucer heading for the mines, the Doctor is dragged off semi-conscious by Baker, Susan (whose ankle appears to have healed up completely between episodes) hides out in the rubble with David, and Barbara returns to the rebel hideout and watches the fallout of the utter failure sink in.
Well, sink in for some. Dortmun's optimism now borders on the delusional--he's convinced that all he needs is another few tweaks to his formula, another few volunteers to toss the bombs (and does it not sink in to anyone that he's claiming his bombs can shatter the otherwise-impervious Dalek armor, but that they can toss them from about ten feet away with no ill effects?) and they'll have their long-awaited victory. Tyler, who has already capitulated to Dortmun once and sent 90% of the previous strike force to their horrible deaths, has pretty much had enough and fucks right off out of the story for a while. Really, Jenny and Tyler's reactions combine to really bring home the reality of the situation--they're both equally cynical about their remaining chances, but they express it in different ways. Tyler abandons his former comrades, deciding that caring about anyone but himself is a waste of time, while Jenny pretends not to care about anyone while showing through her actions that she still cares all too much. The expression on her face at Dortmun's death speaks volumes.
Actually, it would have been fascinating to see Jenny replace Susan as a companion, rather than Vicki. The interactions between her and Barbara, based on a sort of frustrated inability to appreciate each other's point of view, are really some of the best scenes in the whole episode. The best scene, though, has to be Dortmun's death. It's really the culmination of everything Nation's been trying to achieve in the story--his last stand is defiant, heroic, a demonstration of the indomitable human spirit, and utterly useless. The shot of the grenade, detonating with a futile hiss as the Daleks stand confused in front of his broken, lifeless body, is probably the best thing Richard Martin ever did.
Oh yes, and Hartnell's still in the series. He does a better job in this episode, and so does Nation; the scene where he and Susan argue is a bit clunky and clearly setting up her departure in a few episodes' time, but the subsequent bit where David flatters him shamelessly and the Doctor pretends that listening to David's advice is his own idea is the kind of charming egotism you expect from the Doctor, rather than the tiresome arrogance we saw in the previous episode. There's even a nice moment between Baker and Campbell that convincingly sells a friendship between the two, right before the former's departure...and murder, two seconds later, by a Dalek patrol. Did I mention the pointless brutality? Even Ian gets a taste, as he kills the Roboman who was his cellmate an episode ago (although that scene would probably have worked better if they'd mentioned that in the dialogue). Ultimately, Nation succeeds brilliantly at making this story look like a genuine war, occupation and rebellion. It's no wonder he went on to to explore the same themes elsewhere--being grim is kind of his skillset.
It's true, though. One of his greatest skills is in showing unflinchingly a convincing and realistic portrayal of the nasty side of adventure, and "Day of Reckoning" spares no sensibilities in exploring the consequences of Dortmun's defiant stand against the Dalek conquerors. The episode opens with the raid itself--chaotic and violent, filled with death and desperate flight from an enemy that has proven to be invincible. (The sound effects of Dortmun's bombs, which sound like nothing so much as glass Christmas ornaments when they hit the ground, are perhaps not quite right for this, but I'm not sure how exactly you do foley a dud bomb not exploding when it hits the ground.)
The raid also makes the usual splitting up of the cast feel a little less like authorial fiat and more like the entirely believable result of an utter rout. Ian winds up trapped on the Dalek saucer heading for the mines, the Doctor is dragged off semi-conscious by Baker, Susan (whose ankle appears to have healed up completely between episodes) hides out in the rubble with David, and Barbara returns to the rebel hideout and watches the fallout of the utter failure sink in.
Well, sink in for some. Dortmun's optimism now borders on the delusional--he's convinced that all he needs is another few tweaks to his formula, another few volunteers to toss the bombs (and does it not sink in to anyone that he's claiming his bombs can shatter the otherwise-impervious Dalek armor, but that they can toss them from about ten feet away with no ill effects?) and they'll have their long-awaited victory. Tyler, who has already capitulated to Dortmun once and sent 90% of the previous strike force to their horrible deaths, has pretty much had enough and fucks right off out of the story for a while. Really, Jenny and Tyler's reactions combine to really bring home the reality of the situation--they're both equally cynical about their remaining chances, but they express it in different ways. Tyler abandons his former comrades, deciding that caring about anyone but himself is a waste of time, while Jenny pretends not to care about anyone while showing through her actions that she still cares all too much. The expression on her face at Dortmun's death speaks volumes.
Actually, it would have been fascinating to see Jenny replace Susan as a companion, rather than Vicki. The interactions between her and Barbara, based on a sort of frustrated inability to appreciate each other's point of view, are really some of the best scenes in the whole episode. The best scene, though, has to be Dortmun's death. It's really the culmination of everything Nation's been trying to achieve in the story--his last stand is defiant, heroic, a demonstration of the indomitable human spirit, and utterly useless. The shot of the grenade, detonating with a futile hiss as the Daleks stand confused in front of his broken, lifeless body, is probably the best thing Richard Martin ever did.
Oh yes, and Hartnell's still in the series. He does a better job in this episode, and so does Nation; the scene where he and Susan argue is a bit clunky and clearly setting up her departure in a few episodes' time, but the subsequent bit where David flatters him shamelessly and the Doctor pretends that listening to David's advice is his own idea is the kind of charming egotism you expect from the Doctor, rather than the tiresome arrogance we saw in the previous episode. There's even a nice moment between Baker and Campbell that convincingly sells a friendship between the two, right before the former's departure...and murder, two seconds later, by a Dalek patrol. Did I mention the pointless brutality? Even Ian gets a taste, as he kills the Roboman who was his cellmate an episode ago (although that scene would probably have worked better if they'd mentioned that in the dialogue). Ultimately, Nation succeeds brilliantly at making this story look like a genuine war, occupation and rebellion. It's no wonder he went on to to explore the same themes elsewhere--being grim is kind of his skillset.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Daleks
The good news is, there's only one thing about this episode that doesn't work. The bad news is, it's the star of the series and his character, who is taking center stage more and more as the series progresses and is placed front and center here in a fashion the show has never really done before.
Awk-warrrrrrd...
There actually is a whole lot to like in this episode. The two pairs of characters (Ian and the Doctor, Barbara and Susan) are in situations that are very different, but that nonetheless allow Nation to deliver some relatively painless exposition as to how the Daleks conquered Earth. It's actually a plausible and fairly vivid scenario--certainly others have commented on Nation's obsession with plagues, in this series and others, but here he paints a bleak picture of a world bombarded by meteorites and laid low by pestilence before the Daleks even made their first move. Not that humanity has given up, of course. Dortmun...
I'm actually going to give Nation a lot of credit for Dortumn. A whole lot. Because he's quite deliberately contrasting the iconography of Dortmun with the actual character, to brilliant effect. Dortmun's character calls to mind a whole host of tropes that were at that time deeply ingrained in living memory, and which still resonate today. The Rifftrax version of the Aaru movie called him "Churchill mixed with FDR", and that's exactly what he's intended to be...a stirring speaker, with an indomitable never-say-die spirit who rallies humanity into battle when our every instinct is to flee, hide or surrender.
But of course, he's completely and totally in the wrong here. Fleeing and hiding are actually pretty good ideas right now, and the hope he brings the resistance is entirely a false hope. And Tyler knows it, too--Bernard Kay plays him with the perfect amount of fatalism, going along with a plan he knows is doomed to get people killed because he understands that Dortmun's plan has such incredible amounts of narrative inexorability that he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. The bomb hasn't been tested, the plan relies on a transparent ruse, they have to commit most of their men to it, and there's no exit strategy--how could it go wrong? (And somewhere, the spirit of Terry Pratchett asks, "What if it isn't exactly a million-to-one chance?")
So there's a bunch of great stuff going on. Really, apart from the Doctor, it's all wonderful. (Okay. The Doctor and the fact that Richard Martin still hasn't learned that cardboard standees of Daleks look like exactly one thing--cardboard standees of Daleks. Seriously, just about everyone watching the Hartnell era complains about what a terrible job he did, and I was prepared to defend him at least a little until the night scene where the Dalek searchlights went not once but twice directly over to where the cardboard Daleks were propped up against a wall. DUDE!)
But complaining about the cardboard Daleks only delays me from talking about the Big Problem of this episode--the Doctor. Since the last time Nation wrote a Dalek story, the Doctor has gone from being a mischievous trickster whose antics got the rest of the crew into trouble to being the Hero of the Show. And while Nation wrote the mischievous Doctor with energy, verve, and moral complexity, he knows that a Hero has to be a flawless figure filled with righteousness and noble spirit and always ready with a witty quip and a brilliant plan.
Which translates in Nation-script to, "I think we'd better pit our wits against them and defeat them!"
The Doctor is awful in this episode. Hartnell tries to do something with the pompous, puffed, smug, arrogant "hero-speak" he's saddled with, but his default mode is to use comic pomposity to undercut his prickliness, and there's nothing funny going on here, which just leaves pomposity layered on pomposity. Every line is a thudding failure, as the Doctor belittles his allies, lectures his enemies, and gibbers out vaguely science-y sounding things as he solves the Dalek puzzle box without even noticing that there's a Dalek about three feet away listening to everything they say and do. Every single scene he's in is painful at best and incoherent at worst, and if Hartnell can't rescue a line, you know it's bad. It's probably a good thing he's going to be out of action for a while, if this is how Nation writes him.
Because the bits without the Doctor in them? Actually pretty good.
Awk-warrrrrrd...
There actually is a whole lot to like in this episode. The two pairs of characters (Ian and the Doctor, Barbara and Susan) are in situations that are very different, but that nonetheless allow Nation to deliver some relatively painless exposition as to how the Daleks conquered Earth. It's actually a plausible and fairly vivid scenario--certainly others have commented on Nation's obsession with plagues, in this series and others, but here he paints a bleak picture of a world bombarded by meteorites and laid low by pestilence before the Daleks even made their first move. Not that humanity has given up, of course. Dortmun...
I'm actually going to give Nation a lot of credit for Dortumn. A whole lot. Because he's quite deliberately contrasting the iconography of Dortmun with the actual character, to brilliant effect. Dortmun's character calls to mind a whole host of tropes that were at that time deeply ingrained in living memory, and which still resonate today. The Rifftrax version of the Aaru movie called him "Churchill mixed with FDR", and that's exactly what he's intended to be...a stirring speaker, with an indomitable never-say-die spirit who rallies humanity into battle when our every instinct is to flee, hide or surrender.
But of course, he's completely and totally in the wrong here. Fleeing and hiding are actually pretty good ideas right now, and the hope he brings the resistance is entirely a false hope. And Tyler knows it, too--Bernard Kay plays him with the perfect amount of fatalism, going along with a plan he knows is doomed to get people killed because he understands that Dortmun's plan has such incredible amounts of narrative inexorability that he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. The bomb hasn't been tested, the plan relies on a transparent ruse, they have to commit most of their men to it, and there's no exit strategy--how could it go wrong? (And somewhere, the spirit of Terry Pratchett asks, "What if it isn't exactly a million-to-one chance?")
So there's a bunch of great stuff going on. Really, apart from the Doctor, it's all wonderful. (Okay. The Doctor and the fact that Richard Martin still hasn't learned that cardboard standees of Daleks look like exactly one thing--cardboard standees of Daleks. Seriously, just about everyone watching the Hartnell era complains about what a terrible job he did, and I was prepared to defend him at least a little until the night scene where the Dalek searchlights went not once but twice directly over to where the cardboard Daleks were propped up against a wall. DUDE!)
But complaining about the cardboard Daleks only delays me from talking about the Big Problem of this episode--the Doctor. Since the last time Nation wrote a Dalek story, the Doctor has gone from being a mischievous trickster whose antics got the rest of the crew into trouble to being the Hero of the Show. And while Nation wrote the mischievous Doctor with energy, verve, and moral complexity, he knows that a Hero has to be a flawless figure filled with righteousness and noble spirit and always ready with a witty quip and a brilliant plan.
Which translates in Nation-script to, "I think we'd better pit our wits against them and defeat them!"
The Doctor is awful in this episode. Hartnell tries to do something with the pompous, puffed, smug, arrogant "hero-speak" he's saddled with, but his default mode is to use comic pomposity to undercut his prickliness, and there's nothing funny going on here, which just leaves pomposity layered on pomposity. Every line is a thudding failure, as the Doctor belittles his allies, lectures his enemies, and gibbers out vaguely science-y sounding things as he solves the Dalek puzzle box without even noticing that there's a Dalek about three feet away listening to everything they say and do. Every single scene he's in is painful at best and incoherent at worst, and if Hartnell can't rescue a line, you know it's bad. It's probably a good thing he's going to be out of action for a while, if this is how Nation writes him.
Because the bits without the Doctor in them? Actually pretty good.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
World's End
This is an interesting story, because it feels for the first time like Doctor Who is trying to do "event" television. In a way, it feels very modern, sort of like a season premiere or a season finale on a modern show (and had they not held it back, it would have been). That's almost certainly part of why it's so beloved by fans; it's got the shocking return of the show's most popular enemies, it's got the show's first cast change...we fans tend to be suckers for big events that change the metastory, and this is the first big one. That's a lot of weight for it to carry, and it's no surprise that it frequently winds up being loved more in concept than in execution. It should be a big, epic event, but it doesn't fit into that box at all when you watch it.
It's not without its charms, though. "World's End" plays very well to the strengths of the classic series; the same slowness that people complain about when they watch the old Hartnell stories transforms here into a gradually building atmosphere of dread. This is a story that needs to seep in; giving the regulars a full episode to slowly recognize the creeping wrongness of the London they've arrived in greatly enhances the sense that this is a world where the Doctor and his companions simply should not be.
Every moment of the episode works to heighten that tension. Little details--the lack of sound, the decaying buildings and crumbling brickwork, the weeds growing up and out of every surface...it all leads to a sense that this is a London that's not just forgotten but abandoned. The poor costuming and bad effects work on the Robomen actually help to enhance the mood rather than looking silly or cheesy; they look like zombies, like the Daleks have put in the absolute minimum effort in creating their slave labor and don't care about their welfare at all. Tattered clothes? Wasted and wan flesh? As long as there's another human around to take their place, it's irrelevant. They're unbearably creepy, and the story uses them to good effect in this episode by showing them sparingly.
Everything works together to create an excellent atmosphere of looming dread. When the TARDIS is buried in rubble, it feels different than the usual "oh, this is how they keep them in the plot this week" plotting. It feels like they're trapped somewhere they don't belong. When the Doctor asks Ian if he's curious about what's happened, Ian's simple "No," is more effective than any speech. (Which is good, because as the rest of the episode shows, dialogue isn't Terry Nation's strong suit.)
And then the money shot. After a full episode of gradually building wrongness, of a slowly growing and utterly terrifying mystery, we get the Robomen en masse. We get the flying saucer. And then we see it, the first ever recurring enemy coming out of the river. This is the moment that cements the Daleks' place as the Doctor's arch-nemeses, even if it's so badly shot that everyone who remembers it remembers it wrongly (the Dalek begins its ascent from the river before the characters can react to it). The Daleks are back. Even now, over fifty years later, it still feels unimaginably huge.
It's not without its charms, though. "World's End" plays very well to the strengths of the classic series; the same slowness that people complain about when they watch the old Hartnell stories transforms here into a gradually building atmosphere of dread. This is a story that needs to seep in; giving the regulars a full episode to slowly recognize the creeping wrongness of the London they've arrived in greatly enhances the sense that this is a world where the Doctor and his companions simply should not be.
Every moment of the episode works to heighten that tension. Little details--the lack of sound, the decaying buildings and crumbling brickwork, the weeds growing up and out of every surface...it all leads to a sense that this is a London that's not just forgotten but abandoned. The poor costuming and bad effects work on the Robomen actually help to enhance the mood rather than looking silly or cheesy; they look like zombies, like the Daleks have put in the absolute minimum effort in creating their slave labor and don't care about their welfare at all. Tattered clothes? Wasted and wan flesh? As long as there's another human around to take their place, it's irrelevant. They're unbearably creepy, and the story uses them to good effect in this episode by showing them sparingly.
Everything works together to create an excellent atmosphere of looming dread. When the TARDIS is buried in rubble, it feels different than the usual "oh, this is how they keep them in the plot this week" plotting. It feels like they're trapped somewhere they don't belong. When the Doctor asks Ian if he's curious about what's happened, Ian's simple "No," is more effective than any speech. (Which is good, because as the rest of the episode shows, dialogue isn't Terry Nation's strong suit.)
And then the money shot. After a full episode of gradually building wrongness, of a slowly growing and utterly terrifying mystery, we get the Robomen en masse. We get the flying saucer. And then we see it, the first ever recurring enemy coming out of the river. This is the moment that cements the Daleks' place as the Doctor's arch-nemeses, even if it's so badly shot that everyone who remembers it remembers it wrongly (the Dalek begins its ascent from the river before the characters can react to it). The Daleks are back. Even now, over fifty years later, it still feels unimaginably huge.
Review: Campaign
(This post originally appeared on the Doctor Who Ratings Guide on 7 February, 2003.)
So, now we know what it takes to get blackballed from the BBC entirely.
Actually, that's not fair to Mortimore -- Campaign did not get shot down because of a judgement of its quality, it got shot down because it was not the book he told them he was going to write. I do feel that had he submitted the idea for Campaign as he wrote it, it could very well have been accepted -- it's a fascinating story that, somewhat in the manner of The Edge of Destruction, dissects the characters of the first TARDIS crew in great detail, even while pretty much ignoring the plot. There's a lot of fascinating, poetic writing in here, and a lot of amusing nods to such non-canonical stories as The Masters of Luxor and the novelization of The Daleks... but ultimately, I think, you'll get a lot more out of Campaign if you already know the twist at the end.
Spoilers for said twist...
In the end, we learn that the entire novel we've been reading -- the death of all the Tardis regulars, the destruction of the universe, their journeys with Alexander -- all of it was just one big trippy virtual reality game called 'The Game of Me'. This would have infuriated me had I not known it was coming -- there's just enough of a hint of a plot to Campaign that it does seem like Mortimore is leading somewhere with his references to Aristotle "fixing" the T.A.R.D.I.S., and the idea of "breaks in history" and discrepancies among the memories of the Tardis crew. It seems like something you can puzzle out -- is the TARDIS really pregnant? Did the Doctor and his companions destroy the universe by interfering with history in Alexander's timeline? Can all this be fixed? To learn that the answer is, "It's all just a big video game!" is a huge let-down.
Luckily, I already knew from the beginning that it was all just a big video game, and could focus on the writing involved. Which is... wow, it's nice. Mortimore has always focused on beautiful prose at the expense of the plot, so in some ways this is the culmination of that trend; the plot is utterly irrelevant, so he's free to write some amazing, hallucinogenic prose as he puts Ian, Barbara, Susan, Mandy, Lola, and Cliff through the wringer. For everyone who thinks of Mortimore as a companion-torturer, this won't change your opinions... every companion dies violent death after violent death. (The scene where Ian kills the Doctor a dozen or so times sticks out in the mind.)
Campaign fails on a number of levels, to be honest; the plot's pants, the whole thing turns incoherent towards the end, and I honestly can't say I'm surprised that the BBC rejected it. But if you're willing to accept those flaws and read it as, say, an extended prose poem, it's well worth taking a look at.
So, now we know what it takes to get blackballed from the BBC entirely.
Actually, that's not fair to Mortimore -- Campaign did not get shot down because of a judgement of its quality, it got shot down because it was not the book he told them he was going to write. I do feel that had he submitted the idea for Campaign as he wrote it, it could very well have been accepted -- it's a fascinating story that, somewhat in the manner of The Edge of Destruction, dissects the characters of the first TARDIS crew in great detail, even while pretty much ignoring the plot. There's a lot of fascinating, poetic writing in here, and a lot of amusing nods to such non-canonical stories as The Masters of Luxor and the novelization of The Daleks... but ultimately, I think, you'll get a lot more out of Campaign if you already know the twist at the end.
Spoilers for said twist...
In the end, we learn that the entire novel we've been reading -- the death of all the Tardis regulars, the destruction of the universe, their journeys with Alexander -- all of it was just one big trippy virtual reality game called 'The Game of Me'. This would have infuriated me had I not known it was coming -- there's just enough of a hint of a plot to Campaign that it does seem like Mortimore is leading somewhere with his references to Aristotle "fixing" the T.A.R.D.I.S., and the idea of "breaks in history" and discrepancies among the memories of the Tardis crew. It seems like something you can puzzle out -- is the TARDIS really pregnant? Did the Doctor and his companions destroy the universe by interfering with history in Alexander's timeline? Can all this be fixed? To learn that the answer is, "It's all just a big video game!" is a huge let-down.
Luckily, I already knew from the beginning that it was all just a big video game, and could focus on the writing involved. Which is... wow, it's nice. Mortimore has always focused on beautiful prose at the expense of the plot, so in some ways this is the culmination of that trend; the plot is utterly irrelevant, so he's free to write some amazing, hallucinogenic prose as he puts Ian, Barbara, Susan, Mandy, Lola, and Cliff through the wringer. For everyone who thinks of Mortimore as a companion-torturer, this won't change your opinions... every companion dies violent death after violent death. (The scene where Ian kills the Doctor a dozen or so times sticks out in the mind.)
Campaign fails on a number of levels, to be honest; the plot's pants, the whole thing turns incoherent towards the end, and I honestly can't say I'm surprised that the BBC rejected it. But if you're willing to accept those flaws and read it as, say, an extended prose poem, it's well worth taking a look at.
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