A new serial begins with a repeat of the model shot featuring the TARDIS dematerialising from Arbitan's isle on Marinus, and then fades; and we find ourselves in an Aztec tomb. Straight away two things strike me, and become more apparent as time goes on. First is that the sets are wonderful, similar in quality and style to those of Marco Polo and a reminder of how well the BBC can bring about the look of history. The temple, the garden, and even the backdrops work really well, and are matched by the costumes. Doesn't Jacqueline Hill look fantastic as Yetaxa? And Ian gets to wear something very silly (to our eyes) and look embarrassed about it when talking to the Doctor.
There's a variety of moods in this episode, from quiet contemplation to high drama; and this is well-supported by the accompanying music. Particularly noteworthy is the flute music in the garden, accompanied by birdsong. All the regulars (except Carole Ann Ford, who is once again sidelined) get a chance to show their mettle in different situations.
William Hartnell continues to be magnificent, both in his scenes with Cameca and when standing up for non-interference. "You can't rewrite history - not one line!" he proclaims, setting up a position which will cause much debate and thought in the future. I'll be coming back to this several times, including an entry thirty or forty posts away when I consider Simon Guerrier's take on the subject.
As I mentioned recently, William Russell shines in the quiet moments, with his understated acting; and he gets plenty of opportunities to show this off here. A fine example is his worrying over his role in the sacrifice. The way he does this at the same time as showing embarrassment over his costume is spot on. Less effective is the scene where he is introduced to Ixta. This is not helped by the latter's slow, stagey fight with a colleague, which is not very exciting, because of they way they were shooting them back then and the fact that the props were delicate. Still, Russell at least keeps a straight face.
And so we come to Hill, who is - let's face it - the primary focus of the story. She may not get the most screen time, but everything revolves around her. Not since serial C has this been true, and again it's driven by the conflict between her and the Doctor; though the dynamic is different this time. From the moment in the tomb where she waxes lyrical about the beautiful aspects of Aztec culture that have been forgotten because of our concentration on the horrors, she is on an emotional journey that climaxes with her declaration that she is "not Barbara. Yetaxa". Her fascination and balanced viewpoint have become a crusade to save what is good about the society, and she has the hubris to think she can achieve that.
Speaking of Aztec culture, this is something that is well-presented. We have the two local mouthpieces, appropriately enough priests: Autloc represents the modern view and Tlotoxl the contemporary. I say "modern", but it's striking how much has changed since 1964. The comments about leaving the girls in safety while Ian and the Doctor go out and about may not be quite as jarring as the human sacrifices, but they still provoke a wry smile. Or a wince.
Keith Pyott's Autloc comes across as a bit of a wishy-washy liberal. These days he'd be the one standing up for gay marriages in C of E churches while desperately trying to avoid conflict with those who oppose them, and if I was any character in this story, it would be him. On the other hand, there's nothing wishy-washy about John Ringham's Tlotoxl. Ringham explained in interview that he was tasked with creating a villain that every child in the country would hate; and he does this by channelling Shakespeare's Richard III. Yes, he's deliberately OTT. This wouldn't matter if the other actors were approaching their parts in a compatible manner, but they're not, and so the performance jars. Still, he's certainly a marvellously capital-V Villain, and he gets a cliffhanger that really makes me go "whoah!" as he almost breaks the fourth wall, advancing on the audience while expounding his plans. Boo, Tlotoxl! Boo!
The keen-eyed amongst you will have spotted that I haven't mentioned the second thing to strike me when watching the episode, and this is something that is worthy of a separate section:
Missing from the Archives, Part 4: Wiping the Video
Technically, The Temple of Evil doesn't look as good as the episodes of the previous serial. Some of this is that the camerawork is less polished than last time, and that's what I put it all down to originally; but some of it is that the quality of the surviving recording is somewhat lacking. In the early days most of the recording for the show was done on videotape, with some film inserts. The whole thing was then transferred onto film for foreign sales. Since videotape was extremely expensive the tapes were later wiped and reused.
The problem with this is that film has around 40 fewer lines and 25 frames per second instead of 50. In addition, the film can deterioriate. A variety of techniques can be used to lessen the effect of the damage, and a process called VidFIRE can restore some of the lost detail by calculating interleaved frames; but the quality of the result really does depend on the quality of the surviving film. This, combined with the fact that The Aztecs was an early (2002) DVD release and the first to use VidFIRE throughout - before the process had matured - means that the results leave something to be desired.
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 23rd May 1964
Viewers: 7.4 million
Chart Position: 25
Appreciation Index: 62
Rating:
8/10.
Next Time:
The Warriors of Death.
Monday, 31 October 2011
Friday, 21 October 2011
The Forgotten, part 1
I've not reviewed any comics before, and this is a slightly odd one to start with. It's from 2008, and is the opening episode of a Tenth Doctor story. It earns its place because it features a lengthy flashback sequence - a mini-adventure - from his time as the First Doctor. Time placement is slightly problematic, but dialogue reveals that it takes place before The Aztecs. Ian isn't wearing his Cathay costume, so it can't fit alongside The Sorcerer's Apprentice; and this is the only other gap to date. Even this one is slightly dodgy because a recap at the start of the next TV story shows them leaving Marinus; it'll do, though, and if that was the worst continuity problem in the history of the show fans would have to find other things to argue about.
So, since this is the first comic I've reviewed, a word about what I look for. Top priority is that the characters must be recognisable. The Tenth Doctor and Martha certainly are, and the First Doctor - while thinner than I generally imagine him to be - is successful too, as is Susan. Iananbarbara, though, leave a lot to be desired. I can recognise Barbara from her hair, but Ian (who, it must be said, has very boring hair) can only be recognised from context. So, a qualified success. More broadly, the artwork (by Pia Guerra, ink assist by Kent Archer and Shaynne Corbett) is clean and easy on the eye. The layout is fairly simple (all the panels are rectangular), but with enough variation (overlapping and borderless panels, a variety of proportions and sizes) to keep it from becoming boring. Colour (by Charlie Kirchoff) is muted but effective in the framing sequences; for the First Doctor story it is restricted to shades of grey except for sound effects, which is a nice touch. I'm not enough of an afficionado of lettering to tell whether Neil Uyetake has done a particularly good job, but I certainly had no trouble reading it.
What about the plot, then, by writer Tony Lee? To cut to the chase, I'll say that the framing story - in which the Tenth Doctor loses his memories of previous incarnations and only recovers them when touching artifacts in a strange "Museum of The Doctor" - is quite good, and enough of a hook to make me want to read the rest of the series; but the First Doctor flashback is a bit of a nothing. All the boxes are ticked for characteristic mannerisms - the Doctor "hmm"ing, Susan worried but inclined to wander off, Barbara going on about history - but it doesn't feel quite right. The Doctor is too antagonistic to Iananbarbara (and says they keep following him, an odd turn of phrase in the circumstances); they in turn are more irritated by him than they should be in this period. There are also so many nods to the show's early days that there isn't any space for things to happen, which wouldn't matter in a character piece - but this is focused on the action.
So, not a disaster; but then again, not a great start to the First Doctor's comic history.
Rating:
As ever, the only thing that affects my rating is how much I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I haven't given ratings to any other comics yet, so I've got no firm basis for comparison. In contrast, I have rated 200 TV shows, 55 audios and 30 books. Still, I've read quite a few other Who comics even if I haven't given them a numerical score, so I've got some idea. Very roughly:
Flashback only: 3/10
Whole issue: 5/10
Next Time:
Next week is the half term holidays, so I'll be taking a short break. I'll be back on Monday 31st, and returning to 1964 again - or 1507, depending on your point of view - for The Temple of Evil.
So, since this is the first comic I've reviewed, a word about what I look for. Top priority is that the characters must be recognisable. The Tenth Doctor and Martha certainly are, and the First Doctor - while thinner than I generally imagine him to be - is successful too, as is Susan. Iananbarbara, though, leave a lot to be desired. I can recognise Barbara from her hair, but Ian (who, it must be said, has very boring hair) can only be recognised from context. So, a qualified success. More broadly, the artwork (by Pia Guerra, ink assist by Kent Archer and Shaynne Corbett) is clean and easy on the eye. The layout is fairly simple (all the panels are rectangular), but with enough variation (overlapping and borderless panels, a variety of proportions and sizes) to keep it from becoming boring. Colour (by Charlie Kirchoff) is muted but effective in the framing sequences; for the First Doctor story it is restricted to shades of grey except for sound effects, which is a nice touch. I'm not enough of an afficionado of lettering to tell whether Neil Uyetake has done a particularly good job, but I certainly had no trouble reading it.
What about the plot, then, by writer Tony Lee? To cut to the chase, I'll say that the framing story - in which the Tenth Doctor loses his memories of previous incarnations and only recovers them when touching artifacts in a strange "Museum of The Doctor" - is quite good, and enough of a hook to make me want to read the rest of the series; but the First Doctor flashback is a bit of a nothing. All the boxes are ticked for characteristic mannerisms - the Doctor "hmm"ing, Susan worried but inclined to wander off, Barbara going on about history - but it doesn't feel quite right. The Doctor is too antagonistic to Iananbarbara (and says they keep following him, an odd turn of phrase in the circumstances); they in turn are more irritated by him than they should be in this period. There are also so many nods to the show's early days that there isn't any space for things to happen, which wouldn't matter in a character piece - but this is focused on the action.
So, not a disaster; but then again, not a great start to the First Doctor's comic history.
Rating:
As ever, the only thing that affects my rating is how much I enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I haven't given ratings to any other comics yet, so I've got no firm basis for comparison. In contrast, I have rated 200 TV shows, 55 audios and 30 books. Still, I've read quite a few other Who comics even if I haven't given them a numerical score, so I've got some idea. Very roughly:
Flashback only: 3/10
Whole issue: 5/10
Next Time:
Next week is the half term holidays, so I'll be taking a short break. I'll be back on Monday 31st, and returning to 1964 again - or 1507, depending on your point of view - for The Temple of Evil.
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Serial E: The Keys of Marinus
Pyrrho declared that we can determine how things appear, but we can never know the actual, core essence of anything. This seems particularly apt when discussing a television program, where appearance is everything. What is the true nature of Doctor Who? Is it what we see, hear and read, or is it what goes on behind the scenes? Is Yartek, in the end, an alien Voord in an acid-repelling suit disguised as keeper of the conscience on an island of Marinus, or is he a man in a rubber costume in a robe in a studio at Lime Grove? Perhaps more to the point, what were Vasor's intentions regarding Barbara? They are both fictional characters, in a medium which doesn't explicitly express intent; I know what I think, but there is no indisputable, essential answer because on one level it makes no sense to talk about what a nonexistent person was thinking. Certainly, Francis de Wolff's goals were very different from his character's!
The film Galaxy Quest spends some time looking at how fans of a fictional franchise can get caught up in the fiction, blurring the boundaries with the real world. Galaxy Quest thus features imaginary fans getting confused about the reality of a fictional TV show starring nonexistent actors. Similarly, the truth here is that "reality" in the city of Morphoton is no more real than the illusion. Pyrrho says, so what? And while I am no skeptic, I am happy to spend a fair amount of time in my own velvet web.
Enough with the philosophy. There are no alternative titles listed for this serial, which - annoyingly - means two entries with almost identical headings. It's very much a mixed bag, and this is reflected in the averaged episode scores giving me the same result yet again. I find that the Saturday matinee serial format helps, and that my enjoyment of the good-to-excellent episodes is not hampered by the less successful.
This serial was the last time that Terry Nation was invited back to write original villains for Doctor Who; from hereon it was Daleks all the way. Later he cursed the metal monstrosities because he felt he'd been trapped by them, but they also brought him a lot of money, and to be fair he didn't belittle this.
There's nothing more I want to say about the serial itself; but quite a lot to say about the DVD.
DVDs, Part 2: Commentaries and Production Subtitles
I watched each episode of this serial twice, first with the normal soundtrack and then with the commentary. I also watched The Sea of Death a third time, with the production subtitles turned on. These are both standard features on Who DVDs - so much so that I commented on the shortage of commentary in the box set of the first three serials - and my thought was that this might help with the reviewing, pointing out things I missed. The results were mixed.
I don't know why the feeling is so strong, but I find subtitles extremely distracting when watching film or TV. The only exception I can think of is Heroes, where they placed them at appropriate points in the frame rather than along the bottom. I also didn't get anything out of the production subtitles for the first episode of the serial (for some reason they seemed to think you had to look carefully to spot the glaringly obvious stagehand turning the door in the wall). Because of this I decided not to continue with that experiment.
Commentaries are another matter. I don't always listen to them, but without them I would never have attempted to write up my reviews in this much detail. It started with my first ever commentary, Roger Ebert talking about the film Dark City. I can't remember why I decided to try it, but it was a revelation. I'm a fairly intuitive sort of person; I know what I like but can't always express why. Ebert, naturally, looked at the film with a critic's eye, pointing out what the director was doing and how it affected the viewer. This really made me sit up and take notice, and it was from then on that I started paying attention to direction.
My next significant commentaries were those on the Firefly box set, which I tried because I'm a definite browncoat and wanted to wring as much as possible out of that tragically aborted gem. The ones that worked best for me were those where Joss Whedon talked about what he was doing - Out of Gas and Objects in Space. Later, Serenity proved equally interesting.
Other styles of commentary can be fun, too - they add a lot to the experience of watching Time-Flight and Arc of Infinity, for example - but it still remains the director's (and especially writer-director's) viewpoint that interests me most.
So, what of the commentary for this DVD? It's such a long time since the serial was made that the participants almost equate to the survivors. Memory can be a problem in these circumstances, so to keep things moving Clayton Hickman is present as moderator. He's a cheerful, enthusiastic voice who mostly keeps his opinions to himself (except when countering one of the others' self-deprecation), and I think it was useful for him to be there; but it's still not a strong commentary. William Russell is very quiet and Raymond Cusick is persistently negative, leaving it to Carole Ann Ford and John Gorrie to make the running. The former has some amusing tales but it's the latter who gives the most.
Gorrie was not keen on science fiction, but Verity Lambert effectively bullied him into directing for her. There is some dispute over whether it is his only contribution to the show: there are stories that he stepped in to help out with an episode of The Reign of Terror when Henric Hirsch fell ill, but Gorrie himself has no memory of it. Following this brief foray he returned to the plays he loved.
Speaking of Lambert, it is in the section discussing her that the team really comes alive. Quite touching.
So, did the commentaries help with the reviews? Yes, but not because they pointed out things I missed. Rather they provided some of the stories and additional information that I use to spice things up a bit. I will continue to listen to them for the next televised story, which is my favourite pure historical...
Rating:
Single Sitting: 7/10.
Episodic: 6/10.
DWM Mighty 200: 59.66%, 160th.
2011 Gallifrey Base Non-Dynamic Rankings: 6.19, 150th out of 222.
Next Time:
A comic extract: The Forgotten, part 1.
The film Galaxy Quest spends some time looking at how fans of a fictional franchise can get caught up in the fiction, blurring the boundaries with the real world. Galaxy Quest thus features imaginary fans getting confused about the reality of a fictional TV show starring nonexistent actors. Similarly, the truth here is that "reality" in the city of Morphoton is no more real than the illusion. Pyrrho says, so what? And while I am no skeptic, I am happy to spend a fair amount of time in my own velvet web.
Enough with the philosophy. There are no alternative titles listed for this serial, which - annoyingly - means two entries with almost identical headings. It's very much a mixed bag, and this is reflected in the averaged episode scores giving me the same result yet again. I find that the Saturday matinee serial format helps, and that my enjoyment of the good-to-excellent episodes is not hampered by the less successful.
This serial was the last time that Terry Nation was invited back to write original villains for Doctor Who; from hereon it was Daleks all the way. Later he cursed the metal monstrosities because he felt he'd been trapped by them, but they also brought him a lot of money, and to be fair he didn't belittle this.
There's nothing more I want to say about the serial itself; but quite a lot to say about the DVD.
DVDs, Part 2: Commentaries and Production Subtitles
I watched each episode of this serial twice, first with the normal soundtrack and then with the commentary. I also watched The Sea of Death a third time, with the production subtitles turned on. These are both standard features on Who DVDs - so much so that I commented on the shortage of commentary in the box set of the first three serials - and my thought was that this might help with the reviewing, pointing out things I missed. The results were mixed.
I don't know why the feeling is so strong, but I find subtitles extremely distracting when watching film or TV. The only exception I can think of is Heroes, where they placed them at appropriate points in the frame rather than along the bottom. I also didn't get anything out of the production subtitles for the first episode of the serial (for some reason they seemed to think you had to look carefully to spot the glaringly obvious stagehand turning the door in the wall). Because of this I decided not to continue with that experiment.
Commentaries are another matter. I don't always listen to them, but without them I would never have attempted to write up my reviews in this much detail. It started with my first ever commentary, Roger Ebert talking about the film Dark City. I can't remember why I decided to try it, but it was a revelation. I'm a fairly intuitive sort of person; I know what I like but can't always express why. Ebert, naturally, looked at the film with a critic's eye, pointing out what the director was doing and how it affected the viewer. This really made me sit up and take notice, and it was from then on that I started paying attention to direction.
My next significant commentaries were those on the Firefly box set, which I tried because I'm a definite browncoat and wanted to wring as much as possible out of that tragically aborted gem. The ones that worked best for me were those where Joss Whedon talked about what he was doing - Out of Gas and Objects in Space. Later, Serenity proved equally interesting.
Other styles of commentary can be fun, too - they add a lot to the experience of watching Time-Flight and Arc of Infinity, for example - but it still remains the director's (and especially writer-director's) viewpoint that interests me most.
So, what of the commentary for this DVD? It's such a long time since the serial was made that the participants almost equate to the survivors. Memory can be a problem in these circumstances, so to keep things moving Clayton Hickman is present as moderator. He's a cheerful, enthusiastic voice who mostly keeps his opinions to himself (except when countering one of the others' self-deprecation), and I think it was useful for him to be there; but it's still not a strong commentary. William Russell is very quiet and Raymond Cusick is persistently negative, leaving it to Carole Ann Ford and John Gorrie to make the running. The former has some amusing tales but it's the latter who gives the most.
Gorrie was not keen on science fiction, but Verity Lambert effectively bullied him into directing for her. There is some dispute over whether it is his only contribution to the show: there are stories that he stepped in to help out with an episode of The Reign of Terror when Henric Hirsch fell ill, but Gorrie himself has no memory of it. Following this brief foray he returned to the plays he loved.
Speaking of Lambert, it is in the section discussing her that the team really comes alive. Quite touching.
So, did the commentaries help with the reviews? Yes, but not because they pointed out things I missed. Rather they provided some of the stories and additional information that I use to spice things up a bit. I will continue to listen to them for the next televised story, which is my favourite pure historical...
Rating:
Single Sitting: 7/10.
Episodic: 6/10.
DWM Mighty 200: 59.66%, 160th.
2011 Gallifrey Base Non-Dynamic Rankings: 6.19, 150th out of 222.
Next Time:
A comic extract: The Forgotten, part 1.
Monday, 17 October 2011
Episode 26 (E6): The Keys of Marinus
Well now. This is, as they say, a game of two halves. The first is, of course, the conclusion to the Millennius story begun last episode; the second - well, I'll get to that later.
This episode is not quite as polished as the last. Jacqueline Hill is finally stumbling a little, and the cut to the visit with Kala, Aydan's widow, is slightly mistimed. Nevertheless there's still a lot to praise; for instance, the cuts from Barbara to Ian and then later from the Doctor to Ian as the condemned man's friends worry about him are spot on.
As is William Russell's portrayal of Chesterton's strained stoicism. This is the sort of setup where Russell shines. He can match anyone for restrained emotion, revealing a lot with very little. Sometimes this style of acting goes underappreciated, I feel, as it's easier to get a handle on those who express their emotions more freely, in real life and on stage and screen. We get a different sort of performance from Fiona Walker. Once Kala is revealed as a scheming villainess she seems to channel Kevin Stoney, playing a wonderfully OTT arrogant, supercilious character. Great fun, and a total contrast to Russell.
Both the rescue of Susan and the reveal of the mystery are well handled. The icing on the cake was the location of the final key, which was fair even though I didn't figure it out. I also enjoyed the Doctor namedropping again - Pyrrho this time, a Greek philosopher and companion of Alexander the Great. I don't know much about philosophy so I decided to find out a little about him and his ideas. A quick trip to Wikipedia later and I know enough; isn't technology wonderful?
Speaking of technology, there's also been some nice touches here. One that caught my attention for slightly the wrong reason was the 'futuristic' tethered phones. I don't dismiss them for failing to predict the future of telecommunications here, but it did date the show.
Moving on to the second half, we are right back on Arbitan's island. These days this would have been filmed in the same block as The Sea of Death, then reordered in the editing. Back then they had to film in order, so the sets were stored for five weeks then set up again. This time it doesn't show; sometimes there is damage during storage which can cause problems.
It's not a bad ending to the serial. I love the rising sound effect for the conscience machine, and - while some people laugh at them - the Voord masks seem effective to me. Everyone is thinking well, and I like the way Ian appears to be taken in by Yartek's ineffectual disguise but then turns out to have seen through him after all. The goodbyes at the end - particularly the tender moment between Iananbarbara - are pitched just right. However, there's something about the pacing that isn't quite right. It feels both rushed and drawn out, and I can't put my finger on why.
Watching the serial over a couple of weeks means that the reversed model shot at the end is pretty obvious, but I doubt I'd have remembered it from six weeks earlier! I guess they had to get their money's worth.
Hm, this entry feels rushed too. As occasionally happens, it's ended up as a bit of a list without a coherent thread of thought, or indeed anything to divert the attention away from its inadequacies. Still, if Doctor Who can have its filler episodes, so can I. I shall adopt Pyrrho's approach and practice ataraxia, and advise you to do the same. What is ataraxia? It's the proper response to the realisation that we know nothing, and in fact can only know nothing. As a certain Big Mouth Billy Bass put it: don't worry, be happy.
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 16th May 1964
Viewers: 6.9 million
Chart Position: 43
Appreciation Index: 63
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
Serial E as a whole.
This episode is not quite as polished as the last. Jacqueline Hill is finally stumbling a little, and the cut to the visit with Kala, Aydan's widow, is slightly mistimed. Nevertheless there's still a lot to praise; for instance, the cuts from Barbara to Ian and then later from the Doctor to Ian as the condemned man's friends worry about him are spot on.
As is William Russell's portrayal of Chesterton's strained stoicism. This is the sort of setup where Russell shines. He can match anyone for restrained emotion, revealing a lot with very little. Sometimes this style of acting goes underappreciated, I feel, as it's easier to get a handle on those who express their emotions more freely, in real life and on stage and screen. We get a different sort of performance from Fiona Walker. Once Kala is revealed as a scheming villainess she seems to channel Kevin Stoney, playing a wonderfully OTT arrogant, supercilious character. Great fun, and a total contrast to Russell.
Both the rescue of Susan and the reveal of the mystery are well handled. The icing on the cake was the location of the final key, which was fair even though I didn't figure it out. I also enjoyed the Doctor namedropping again - Pyrrho this time, a Greek philosopher and companion of Alexander the Great. I don't know much about philosophy so I decided to find out a little about him and his ideas. A quick trip to Wikipedia later and I know enough; isn't technology wonderful?
Speaking of technology, there's also been some nice touches here. One that caught my attention for slightly the wrong reason was the 'futuristic' tethered phones. I don't dismiss them for failing to predict the future of telecommunications here, but it did date the show.
Moving on to the second half, we are right back on Arbitan's island. These days this would have been filmed in the same block as The Sea of Death, then reordered in the editing. Back then they had to film in order, so the sets were stored for five weeks then set up again. This time it doesn't show; sometimes there is damage during storage which can cause problems.
It's not a bad ending to the serial. I love the rising sound effect for the conscience machine, and - while some people laugh at them - the Voord masks seem effective to me. Everyone is thinking well, and I like the way Ian appears to be taken in by Yartek's ineffectual disguise but then turns out to have seen through him after all. The goodbyes at the end - particularly the tender moment between Iananbarbara - are pitched just right. However, there's something about the pacing that isn't quite right. It feels both rushed and drawn out, and I can't put my finger on why.
Watching the serial over a couple of weeks means that the reversed model shot at the end is pretty obvious, but I doubt I'd have remembered it from six weeks earlier! I guess they had to get their money's worth.
Hm, this entry feels rushed too. As occasionally happens, it's ended up as a bit of a list without a coherent thread of thought, or indeed anything to divert the attention away from its inadequacies. Still, if Doctor Who can have its filler episodes, so can I. I shall adopt Pyrrho's approach and practice ataraxia, and advise you to do the same. What is ataraxia? It's the proper response to the realisation that we know nothing, and in fact can only know nothing. As a certain Big Mouth Billy Bass put it: don't worry, be happy.
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 16th May 1964
Viewers: 6.9 million
Chart Position: 43
Appreciation Index: 63
Rating:
6/10.
Next Time:
Serial E as a whole.
Friday, 14 October 2011
Episode 25 (E5): Sentence of Death
Judge: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, let us return to the matter of the Crown versus Episode 25, "Sentence of Death". If the Counsel for the Defence is prepared to present his case?
CftD: Thank you, m'lud. I would like to begin, if I may, with the initial reconstruction of the framing of Ian Chesterton. The Counsel for the Prosecution has referred to the - and I quote - "infernal racket". Yet it seems to me that the decision to hold the alarm through the credits is a bold artistic move which successfully heightens the tension, and the fade occurs just soon enough to avoid irritation. This whole scene is, in fact, a very effective way of setting up the episode. I will concede that the musical sting following the declaration of "murder!" is trite, but this is a minor point and in keeping with the habits of the time. I further put it to you that the use of the joke "Who? He's the Doctor", far from being worn, is at this time still fresh; and that William Russell delivers it well.
The main thrust of the prosecution's argument seems to be that Mr. Nation has shifted genres mid-serial; that courtroom drama is inappropriate for a family audience, being too cerebral for children; and that it isn't even good courtroom drama. I call to the stand... The Reviewer!
[Gasps from the gallery as The Reviewer enters and is sworn in.]
Mister Reviewer, did you enjoy any courtroom dramas as a child?
TR: As a matter of fact, I did. It's a relatively minor sub-genre of crime TV, always outnumbered by the police and private detective shows, but there have always been some. I particularly remember Crown Court, an early example of daytime TV that I presumably saw during school holidays. It's notable for being set almost entirely in the courtroom and following proper procedure with real members of the public (rather than actors) in the jury. It also had a very catchy theme tune.
CftD: And was that the only such show?
TR: Not at all, though it is probably the best example. The American series Petrocelli was another I enjoyed, and that had more of the running around gathering evidence we see in this episode.
CftD: Thank you.
Judge: Does the Counsel for the Prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?
CftP: I do, m'lud. Mister Reviewer, when did these programs run?
TR: Crown Court ran from 1972 to 1984. Petrocelli ran from 1974 to 1976 in the US, but I'm not sure how long a gap there was before it was shown in the UK. Perhaps a year or two?
CftP: Can you say for sure that you watched Crown Court before 1975?
TR: No, sir, I cannot.
CftP: Then it is likely that you were at least eleven years old when you were enjoying these, older than much of the target audience?
TR: Well, yes, but -
CftP: No further questions, m'lud.
Judge: Does the Counsel for the Defence wish to continue with this line of argument?
CftD: No, m'lud. However, I would like to point out that the verdicts in these cases should be based purely on the Reviewer's enjoyment, and not any abstract sense of appropriateness for the target audience.
Judge: So noted.
CftD: Thank you. Next I would like to address the matter of switching genres. We have already established that Doctor Who does this frequently, and that this adds variety to the proceedings. Furthermore, we have also established that the borders between stories at this point in the show's history are not firm. How, then, is changing genre mid-stream a problem? I put it to you that it is not, and I further intend to demonstrate that the charges of the episode being poor courtroom drama are also false.
My learned friend describes the Millennius legal system as implausible, but we have had many stranger things in our own history. Perhaps he thinks they should have resorted to trial by cake?
[Laughter from the gallery.]
He also mentions that psychometry as a science is a ridiculous concept, which is a matter of opinion - I personally think it adds a pleasing alienness to the city - and that the judges look more like Greek Orthodox priests. Before casting such aspersions, perhaps he should obtain a mirror in which to examine his own manner of dress?
[More laughter.]
CftP: Objection!
Judge: Sustained. Please confine your comments to the facts and avoid making personal remarks about our attire.
CftD: Apologies, my lord. Nevertheless it is notable that my learned friend did not mention the set dressing, which is excellent; nor the library montage, a classic example of -
Judge: Yes, yes, we get the idea. Please get to the point; I have a round of golf to play after this, and I'd like to get to it before dark.
CftD: Indeed, m'lud. It has been suggested that Aydan giving himself away twice in such a manner is unrealistic; but not everyone is accomplished in the ways of deceit, and Millennius is not used to crime, so he was unlikely to have had much opportunity to practice. Curiously my learned friend also complains about the presence of domestic violence in a children's program. This is slightly dangerous territory, but it is done carefully; and surely he cannot have it both ways, complaining about realism and its opposite?
We also have the return of William Hartnell. Far from "skiving off", as my learned friend puts it, he has been recharging - and it shows! Hartnell is fizzing with energy, and performs wonderfully in the role of Counsel for the Defence, putting in a performance I, myself, would not be ashamed of -
Judge: Ahem.
CftD: Indeed, apologies once more. Then - just when we have got used to a story being wrapped up within each episode - Nation throws in Susan's kidnapping, one of the best cliffhangers of the show so far, and we are left to wait a week to see what happens. Brilliant.
CftP: M'lud, I would like to ask for a postponement, since the story is not yet complete...
Judge: Denied. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard all the evidence presented. Please retire and consider your verdict.
[Everyone gets up to leave. Fade.]
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 9th May 1964
Viewers: 7.9 million
Chart Position: 29
Appreciation Index: 61
Rating:
Judge: Have you reached a decision on which you are all agreed?
Spokesperson for the Jury: We have, my lord.
Judge: And what is that decision?
SftJ: 8/10, my lord.
Judge: Episode 25, you have been found not guilty of the crime of failing to entertain. My congratulations.
Next Time:
The Keys of Marinus.
CftD: Thank you, m'lud. I would like to begin, if I may, with the initial reconstruction of the framing of Ian Chesterton. The Counsel for the Prosecution has referred to the - and I quote - "infernal racket". Yet it seems to me that the decision to hold the alarm through the credits is a bold artistic move which successfully heightens the tension, and the fade occurs just soon enough to avoid irritation. This whole scene is, in fact, a very effective way of setting up the episode. I will concede that the musical sting following the declaration of "murder!" is trite, but this is a minor point and in keeping with the habits of the time. I further put it to you that the use of the joke "Who? He's the Doctor", far from being worn, is at this time still fresh; and that William Russell delivers it well.
The main thrust of the prosecution's argument seems to be that Mr. Nation has shifted genres mid-serial; that courtroom drama is inappropriate for a family audience, being too cerebral for children; and that it isn't even good courtroom drama. I call to the stand... The Reviewer!
[Gasps from the gallery as The Reviewer enters and is sworn in.]
Mister Reviewer, did you enjoy any courtroom dramas as a child?
TR: As a matter of fact, I did. It's a relatively minor sub-genre of crime TV, always outnumbered by the police and private detective shows, but there have always been some. I particularly remember Crown Court, an early example of daytime TV that I presumably saw during school holidays. It's notable for being set almost entirely in the courtroom and following proper procedure with real members of the public (rather than actors) in the jury. It also had a very catchy theme tune.
CftD: And was that the only such show?
TR: Not at all, though it is probably the best example. The American series Petrocelli was another I enjoyed, and that had more of the running around gathering evidence we see in this episode.
CftD: Thank you.
Judge: Does the Counsel for the Prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?
CftP: I do, m'lud. Mister Reviewer, when did these programs run?
TR: Crown Court ran from 1972 to 1984. Petrocelli ran from 1974 to 1976 in the US, but I'm not sure how long a gap there was before it was shown in the UK. Perhaps a year or two?
CftP: Can you say for sure that you watched Crown Court before 1975?
TR: No, sir, I cannot.
CftP: Then it is likely that you were at least eleven years old when you were enjoying these, older than much of the target audience?
TR: Well, yes, but -
CftP: No further questions, m'lud.
Judge: Does the Counsel for the Defence wish to continue with this line of argument?
CftD: No, m'lud. However, I would like to point out that the verdicts in these cases should be based purely on the Reviewer's enjoyment, and not any abstract sense of appropriateness for the target audience.
Judge: So noted.
CftD: Thank you. Next I would like to address the matter of switching genres. We have already established that Doctor Who does this frequently, and that this adds variety to the proceedings. Furthermore, we have also established that the borders between stories at this point in the show's history are not firm. How, then, is changing genre mid-stream a problem? I put it to you that it is not, and I further intend to demonstrate that the charges of the episode being poor courtroom drama are also false.
My learned friend describes the Millennius legal system as implausible, but we have had many stranger things in our own history. Perhaps he thinks they should have resorted to trial by cake?
[Laughter from the gallery.]
He also mentions that psychometry as a science is a ridiculous concept, which is a matter of opinion - I personally think it adds a pleasing alienness to the city - and that the judges look more like Greek Orthodox priests. Before casting such aspersions, perhaps he should obtain a mirror in which to examine his own manner of dress?
[More laughter.]
CftP: Objection!
Judge: Sustained. Please confine your comments to the facts and avoid making personal remarks about our attire.
CftD: Apologies, my lord. Nevertheless it is notable that my learned friend did not mention the set dressing, which is excellent; nor the library montage, a classic example of -
Judge: Yes, yes, we get the idea. Please get to the point; I have a round of golf to play after this, and I'd like to get to it before dark.
CftD: Indeed, m'lud. It has been suggested that Aydan giving himself away twice in such a manner is unrealistic; but not everyone is accomplished in the ways of deceit, and Millennius is not used to crime, so he was unlikely to have had much opportunity to practice. Curiously my learned friend also complains about the presence of domestic violence in a children's program. This is slightly dangerous territory, but it is done carefully; and surely he cannot have it both ways, complaining about realism and its opposite?
We also have the return of William Hartnell. Far from "skiving off", as my learned friend puts it, he has been recharging - and it shows! Hartnell is fizzing with energy, and performs wonderfully in the role of Counsel for the Defence, putting in a performance I, myself, would not be ashamed of -
Judge: Ahem.
CftD: Indeed, apologies once more. Then - just when we have got used to a story being wrapped up within each episode - Nation throws in Susan's kidnapping, one of the best cliffhangers of the show so far, and we are left to wait a week to see what happens. Brilliant.
CftP: M'lud, I would like to ask for a postponement, since the story is not yet complete...
Judge: Denied. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard all the evidence presented. Please retire and consider your verdict.
[Everyone gets up to leave. Fade.]
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 9th May 1964
Viewers: 7.9 million
Chart Position: 29
Appreciation Index: 61
Rating:
Judge: Have you reached a decision on which you are all agreed?
Spokesperson for the Jury: We have, my lord.
Judge: And what is that decision?
SftJ: 8/10, my lord.
Judge: Episode 25, you have been found not guilty of the crime of failing to entertain. My congratulations.
Next Time:
The Keys of Marinus.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Episode 24 (E4): The Snows of Terror
This episode opens well, with Iananbarbara struggling in the snow to a soundtrack of howling winds and wordless singing which is quite distinctive. Francis de Wolff as Vasor is a suitably ambiguous figure, imposing and more than a little scary as he looms over them; and then we're in the hut. This is a particularly impressive set, and very different again from anything in the previous episodes of this serial. Designer Raymond Cusick was not pleased with having to do so much extra work within the budget in this story (an inevitable consequence of David Whitaker's scheme to make Terry Nation's job manageable) and was not happy with any of the results, but I think he did a great job within the limitations.
Generally, when I'm not watching with an eye to reviewing, the sign of a good set is that I don't notice it; or rather, that I notice it in the same way that the characters do - as impressive, squalid, or whatever - instead of as wobbly or unrealistic. Every episode has had its high- and low-lights, some higher or lower than others. Here it is the hut and the outside scenery that work really well (helped by how they are shot), while the ice caves leave something to be desired. The walls do indeed look icy, but also stagelike; and the rope bridge across the chasm fails to convince.
While we're in the caves anyway, let's talk some more about them. For a start, they are home to the ice warriors! This fierce, reptilian warrior species is better known for interactions with the Second and Third Doctors, but here they make their first appearance. I've always -
What? Not those ice warriors? Ah, right, I see.
Sorry. In the script, these ice soldiers (yes, that avoids confusion) were supposed to be frozen in the ice with the key, so that they were preserved until someone thawed them out and the key could then be protected. A last-ditch defence, as it were, which makes a pulpy kind of sense. Unfortunately that proved impossible to realise, and we are left with knights who are simply stationary until the key has been taken, and then start to wake up. Which is pretty pathetic as defences go, and not helped by the comedy performances (particularly on the edge of the chasm).
Still, that same chasm is where Susan shines. She gets to show off her wits and bravery, and Carole Ann Ford demonstrates her fear and determination, helped perhaps with the former by her falling and hurting herself during a previous take. It all goes to make up for one of Nation's most thoughtless blunders with her character earlier, when Susan - who was shown in Nation's previous script to have an excellent sense of direction - leads Sabetha the wrong way. There was no call for that! It would have worked better if Sabetha (who's mainly here as eye candy anyway and has no personality other than what Katherine Schofield gamely injects) had got it wrong and used her greater age to push Susan into following her. Still, all the writers have plainly given up on the unearthly child and are just waiting for the opportunity to dump her somewhere out of the way, probably with some stupid Earth ape to look after her. Tch.
I think the pressure must have been getting to Nation, because Susan's not the only one shortchanged by the script. In two blatant instances of "stupidity for the sake of plot", our heroes find the keys and travel dials in a drawer in Vasor's hut - and leave them there! Then Vasor himself goes back to the hut - where he has always been careful to lock the door - and leaves it unlocked. Double tch.
Which leaves a chunk of the action that I've put off until last:
Violence Against Women, part 1: What Are You Implying?
The scenes where Vasor gets rid of Ian (after an educational bit about handling frostbite which is more useful than the average) have a certain tone to them. The building menace for Barbara from Vasor is palpable, even when he's being helpful; and when he declares that he's tired of waiting I thought it was very clear that he intended to rape her. I was therefore surprised to learn that director John Gorrie hadn't read it like that! The only other possible interpretation I can see is cannibalism, given Vasor's comment about fattening Barbara up, and this would put it in the same territory as Shockeye's scenes with Peri in The Two Doctors, which are also uncomfortable.
I don't quite know why - maybe it's some sort of trendy lefty middle-class male guilt by association sort of thing - but I find this sort of violence hard to watch, even when it's threatened rather than actual. Partly it's the message it gives, that women are vulnerable, which just fits with the general pattern of sexism; partly it's because it focuses on the result of objectifying women without speaking about that process; maybe there's even an undertone of twisted eroticism. But for me it has an emotional weight that is disproportionate: elsewhere in this serial I've seen people falling off cliffs, stabbed, strangled, and pushed into concentrated acid without minding, so what is the big deal?
Perhaps it hits closer to home. Nobody I've known well has been deliberately killed (though I had occasionally chatted in the street with a man from further down our road who was subsequently murdered, and even that was horrible); whereas almost every woman who I or my wife know well enough to talk to about this sort of thing have faced - at the minimum - some sort of sexual harassment. I also have an eleven year old daughter, and if the scene with Vasor and Barbara didn't bother you try rerunning it in your head with Susan replacing her teacher. Not good.
It's a subject I will need to tackle again. Maybe by the time I do I'll have figured out a bit more. Still, there's no doubt that the scene is effective, and excellently acted by Hill and de Wolff.
Where Were They Then?, part 1: A Holiday for the Doctor
Changing track, let's look at the timing of production for the first year of the show. In the year from 27th September 1963, when the pilot was made, the cast and crew recorded 50 episodes; this includes the pilot, the remounted episode from serial B, and two episodes of a later story that were combined into one. What's more, they've still got four more episodes to shoot before they take a production break. Whichever way you look at it, that's a hell of a schedule! I've commented on the regulars looking tired, and one solution to ease the pressure a little was to book in holidays for the cast, writing their characters out for an episode or two. The first to get away for a while was William Hartnell.
Hartnell wasn't as old as his character, and wore a wig to exaggerate his age, but he was no longer a young man. He was the one most affected by fatigue, and a fortnight away during this episode and the last was probably (ahem) just what the doctor ordered. We'll see if it's made any difference next time...
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 2nd May 1964
Viewers: 10.4 million
Chart Position: 20
Appreciation Index: 60
Rating:
5/10.
Next Time:
Sentence of Death.
Generally, when I'm not watching with an eye to reviewing, the sign of a good set is that I don't notice it; or rather, that I notice it in the same way that the characters do - as impressive, squalid, or whatever - instead of as wobbly or unrealistic. Every episode has had its high- and low-lights, some higher or lower than others. Here it is the hut and the outside scenery that work really well (helped by how they are shot), while the ice caves leave something to be desired. The walls do indeed look icy, but also stagelike; and the rope bridge across the chasm fails to convince.
While we're in the caves anyway, let's talk some more about them. For a start, they are home to the ice warriors! This fierce, reptilian warrior species is better known for interactions with the Second and Third Doctors, but here they make their first appearance. I've always -
What? Not those ice warriors? Ah, right, I see.
Sorry. In the script, these ice soldiers (yes, that avoids confusion) were supposed to be frozen in the ice with the key, so that they were preserved until someone thawed them out and the key could then be protected. A last-ditch defence, as it were, which makes a pulpy kind of sense. Unfortunately that proved impossible to realise, and we are left with knights who are simply stationary until the key has been taken, and then start to wake up. Which is pretty pathetic as defences go, and not helped by the comedy performances (particularly on the edge of the chasm).
Still, that same chasm is where Susan shines. She gets to show off her wits and bravery, and Carole Ann Ford demonstrates her fear and determination, helped perhaps with the former by her falling and hurting herself during a previous take. It all goes to make up for one of Nation's most thoughtless blunders with her character earlier, when Susan - who was shown in Nation's previous script to have an excellent sense of direction - leads Sabetha the wrong way. There was no call for that! It would have worked better if Sabetha (who's mainly here as eye candy anyway and has no personality other than what Katherine Schofield gamely injects) had got it wrong and used her greater age to push Susan into following her. Still, all the writers have plainly given up on the unearthly child and are just waiting for the opportunity to dump her somewhere out of the way, probably with some stupid Earth ape to look after her. Tch.
I think the pressure must have been getting to Nation, because Susan's not the only one shortchanged by the script. In two blatant instances of "stupidity for the sake of plot", our heroes find the keys and travel dials in a drawer in Vasor's hut - and leave them there! Then Vasor himself goes back to the hut - where he has always been careful to lock the door - and leaves it unlocked. Double tch.
Which leaves a chunk of the action that I've put off until last:
Violence Against Women, part 1: What Are You Implying?
The scenes where Vasor gets rid of Ian (after an educational bit about handling frostbite which is more useful than the average) have a certain tone to them. The building menace for Barbara from Vasor is palpable, even when he's being helpful; and when he declares that he's tired of waiting I thought it was very clear that he intended to rape her. I was therefore surprised to learn that director John Gorrie hadn't read it like that! The only other possible interpretation I can see is cannibalism, given Vasor's comment about fattening Barbara up, and this would put it in the same territory as Shockeye's scenes with Peri in The Two Doctors, which are also uncomfortable.
I don't quite know why - maybe it's some sort of trendy lefty middle-class male guilt by association sort of thing - but I find this sort of violence hard to watch, even when it's threatened rather than actual. Partly it's the message it gives, that women are vulnerable, which just fits with the general pattern of sexism; partly it's because it focuses on the result of objectifying women without speaking about that process; maybe there's even an undertone of twisted eroticism. But for me it has an emotional weight that is disproportionate: elsewhere in this serial I've seen people falling off cliffs, stabbed, strangled, and pushed into concentrated acid without minding, so what is the big deal?
Perhaps it hits closer to home. Nobody I've known well has been deliberately killed (though I had occasionally chatted in the street with a man from further down our road who was subsequently murdered, and even that was horrible); whereas almost every woman who I or my wife know well enough to talk to about this sort of thing have faced - at the minimum - some sort of sexual harassment. I also have an eleven year old daughter, and if the scene with Vasor and Barbara didn't bother you try rerunning it in your head with Susan replacing her teacher. Not good.
It's a subject I will need to tackle again. Maybe by the time I do I'll have figured out a bit more. Still, there's no doubt that the scene is effective, and excellently acted by Hill and de Wolff.
Where Were They Then?, part 1: A Holiday for the Doctor
Changing track, let's look at the timing of production for the first year of the show. In the year from 27th September 1963, when the pilot was made, the cast and crew recorded 50 episodes; this includes the pilot, the remounted episode from serial B, and two episodes of a later story that were combined into one. What's more, they've still got four more episodes to shoot before they take a production break. Whichever way you look at it, that's a hell of a schedule! I've commented on the regulars looking tired, and one solution to ease the pressure a little was to book in holidays for the cast, writing their characters out for an episode or two. The first to get away for a while was William Hartnell.
Hartnell wasn't as old as his character, and wore a wig to exaggerate his age, but he was no longer a young man. He was the one most affected by fatigue, and a fortnight away during this episode and the last was probably (ahem) just what the doctor ordered. We'll see if it's made any difference next time...
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 2nd May 1964
Viewers: 10.4 million
Chart Position: 20
Appreciation Index: 60
Rating:
5/10.
Next Time:
Sentence of Death.
Monday, 10 October 2011
Episode 23 (E3): The Screaming Jungle
And so we reach the first episode broadcast on BBC1, which up until now had been referred to as the BBC Television Service, or colloquially simply "BBC". The addition of a number was due to the advent of the third British TV channel, BBC2. This sorta-kinda happened on 20th April, but due to a major power cut the only transmissions were news bulletins; the channel debuted properly the following day with Play School, a classic children's program of my youth. I also remember well the trade test transmissions, short films broadcast repeatedly, some of which I loved - in particular, The Captive River (about the building of the Kariba Dam and "the last, lone elephant" to be evacuated, which I called "the last lonely elephant"); The Home-made Car (which had a particular resonance for my mum, who had made a car with her brother); Giuseppina (about an Italian petrol station which I always thought was French); and Network (which taught me quite a bit about telecommunications for a half-hour program). Probably due to the repetition they have stayed with me better than many later programs - I can still remember some of the animation from Network even though I was three when it was last broadcast.
Technically, BBC2 led the way. It was broadcast in 625 lines rather than the 405 lines of BBC1 and ITV, which meant fewer people could watch it but promoted the sale of dual receivers and so eased the transition for the other channels. Later, BBC2 would also be the first channel to broadcast regularly in colour.
These days, most of us in the UK watch old episodes of Who in 625 lines, carefully restored, on large screens. This is slightly unfair as it can reveal details that were hidden from viewers of the original transmission; the first episode of The Mind Robber in particular suffers from this.
Meanwhile, on BBC1, we have The Screaming Jungle, which certainly won't be requiring an extra entry. It's fun enough in a disposable-half-hour-of-entertainment sort of way, but little of it inspires me to comment. As is often the case when Terry Nation's writing, people keep thinking well and we get to see some of their thought processes, which I like. There's some fun characterisation, particularly between Barbara and Susan when they are alone; when Ian is worrying about Barbara; and, towards the end, when Iananbarbara get to spend some quiet quality time reading (you may note where these three intersect, and draw your own conclusions).
Apart from that it's just an excuse to imperil our heroes with a sequence of traps. Which is fine, if the traps are interesting enough and well implemented. We have a net combined with a descending ceiling that has some very wobbly spikes; a pickaxe attached to a chain that causes a portcullis to drop down, which in turn has a very wobbly bar; a pressure plate that activates a blade-wielding statue; and a rotating Buddhalike statue with realistic arm action. I'm sorry, there is some entertaining stuff here but overall it just doesn't cut the mustard. And someone (apologies, I can't remember who - the Internet is a big place) pointed out something important about the rotating statue, which is that it is completely counter-productive. It holds a fake key, but if anyone tries to take that one it grabs them and gives them access to the place where the real key is held!
What does that leave? Oh, yes, the plants and the dying old man's cryptic clue. The plants are actually surprisingly effective. OK, there are moments where a person is trying hard to keep a tendril attacking them, but in general they work well. When the plants are breaking through into the laboratory it's almost as good as the similar scene in the much later Seeds of Doom. The old man is less impressive, with some dodgy motivation and an even more dodgy death, but I quite like the chemical clue - and apparently new elements have been discovered, which would explain why Ian doesn't twig sooner.
So, a mixed result, and an appropriate point at which to return to the subject of style...
Look and Feel, Part 2: Saturday Matinee
Like The Edge of Destruction before it, The Keys of Marinus wasn't originally planned but instead resulted from the chaotic script situation that plagued Doctor Who's first season. A story by Malcolm Hulke - who would produce some great stories later on - had run into trouble, itself having been moved up the schedule to avoid delays in two other scripts. Script editor David Whitaker turned to Terry Nation for an emergency replacement. Because there were only four weeks to produce scripts for six episodes, Whitaker suggested a series of largely-independent adventures, and collaborated with Nation on the basic setup. What they came up with took a leaf out of another pulp-era phenomenon, the Saturday Matinee, and in particular one of its more famous serials: Flash Gordon.
The Matinee serials began in the silent era with such classics as The Perils of Pauline and continued through to the 1950s. They had the cliffhanger structure we've already discussed, and many of them had a new, exotic location each week. You don't need to be a student of old films to pick up the feel, because the 1980 pastiche Flash Gordon film does fine (though you do have to imagine your own episode breaks).
The trap-fest of the The Screaming Jungle is a classic example. The 1980's biggest pastiche - the Indiana Jones movies, starting with Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981 - is a big-budget, full-length version of the same sort of thing but the roots are identical. Amusingly (in retrospect), writer Robert Gould accused Whitaker and Nation of stealing his ideas for the wafer-thin plot, but this was not upheld.
Meanwhile, the hot, steamy jungles are giving way to arctic tundra...
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 25th April 1964
Viewers: 9.9 million
Chart Position: 22
Appreciation Index: 61
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
The Snows of Terror.
Technically, BBC2 led the way. It was broadcast in 625 lines rather than the 405 lines of BBC1 and ITV, which meant fewer people could watch it but promoted the sale of dual receivers and so eased the transition for the other channels. Later, BBC2 would also be the first channel to broadcast regularly in colour.
These days, most of us in the UK watch old episodes of Who in 625 lines, carefully restored, on large screens. This is slightly unfair as it can reveal details that were hidden from viewers of the original transmission; the first episode of The Mind Robber in particular suffers from this.
Meanwhile, on BBC1, we have The Screaming Jungle, which certainly won't be requiring an extra entry. It's fun enough in a disposable-half-hour-of-entertainment sort of way, but little of it inspires me to comment. As is often the case when Terry Nation's writing, people keep thinking well and we get to see some of their thought processes, which I like. There's some fun characterisation, particularly between Barbara and Susan when they are alone; when Ian is worrying about Barbara; and, towards the end, when Iananbarbara get to spend some quiet quality time reading (you may note where these three intersect, and draw your own conclusions).
Apart from that it's just an excuse to imperil our heroes with a sequence of traps. Which is fine, if the traps are interesting enough and well implemented. We have a net combined with a descending ceiling that has some very wobbly spikes; a pickaxe attached to a chain that causes a portcullis to drop down, which in turn has a very wobbly bar; a pressure plate that activates a blade-wielding statue; and a rotating Buddhalike statue with realistic arm action. I'm sorry, there is some entertaining stuff here but overall it just doesn't cut the mustard. And someone (apologies, I can't remember who - the Internet is a big place) pointed out something important about the rotating statue, which is that it is completely counter-productive. It holds a fake key, but if anyone tries to take that one it grabs them and gives them access to the place where the real key is held!
What does that leave? Oh, yes, the plants and the dying old man's cryptic clue. The plants are actually surprisingly effective. OK, there are moments where a person is trying hard to keep a tendril attacking them, but in general they work well. When the plants are breaking through into the laboratory it's almost as good as the similar scene in the much later Seeds of Doom. The old man is less impressive, with some dodgy motivation and an even more dodgy death, but I quite like the chemical clue - and apparently new elements have been discovered, which would explain why Ian doesn't twig sooner.
So, a mixed result, and an appropriate point at which to return to the subject of style...
Look and Feel, Part 2: Saturday Matinee
Like The Edge of Destruction before it, The Keys of Marinus wasn't originally planned but instead resulted from the chaotic script situation that plagued Doctor Who's first season. A story by Malcolm Hulke - who would produce some great stories later on - had run into trouble, itself having been moved up the schedule to avoid delays in two other scripts. Script editor David Whitaker turned to Terry Nation for an emergency replacement. Because there were only four weeks to produce scripts for six episodes, Whitaker suggested a series of largely-independent adventures, and collaborated with Nation on the basic setup. What they came up with took a leaf out of another pulp-era phenomenon, the Saturday Matinee, and in particular one of its more famous serials: Flash Gordon.
The Matinee serials began in the silent era with such classics as The Perils of Pauline and continued through to the 1950s. They had the cliffhanger structure we've already discussed, and many of them had a new, exotic location each week. You don't need to be a student of old films to pick up the feel, because the 1980 pastiche Flash Gordon film does fine (though you do have to imagine your own episode breaks).
The trap-fest of the The Screaming Jungle is a classic example. The 1980's biggest pastiche - the Indiana Jones movies, starting with Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981 - is a big-budget, full-length version of the same sort of thing but the roots are identical. Amusingly (in retrospect), writer Robert Gould accused Whitaker and Nation of stealing his ideas for the wafer-thin plot, but this was not upheld.
Meanwhile, the hot, steamy jungles are giving way to arctic tundra...
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 25th April 1964
Viewers: 9.9 million
Chart Position: 22
Appreciation Index: 61
Rating:
4/10.
Next Time:
The Snows of Terror.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Episode 22 (E2): The Velvet Web, continued
Welcome back to the Herb Garden! We last left our heroes asleep, but we as viewers were now concerned for their safety.
The next scene, of course, is key, and it's the last I'll cover in detail. We fade up on a midshot of the Doctor, Susan and Ian, all awake, refreshed and enjoying a sumptuous breakfast, but Barbara is still sound asleep - as we see when the camera pans across to a quite intimate view alongside her. A few normal shots of the others follow, then we zoom in on her face as she wakes - and we suddenly cut to her viewpoint.
On first viewing I didn't notice the state of the surroundings straight away, just that Susan's dress didn't look up to much; but when Barbara tells them to look around it became obvious, and the tin mug sealed the deal. This viewpoint shot is held very static, in contrast to the fluidity of what we have just been watching; the only movement for quite some time is a slight pan to keep the Doctor in shot as he passes over the mug, and it quickly returns to its previous position. I might be reading too much into this, but it's noticeable that Ian is right in the middle, the human focus of Barbara's attention. As she gets more worked up and the others more confused we switch to a closeup of Susan, then her viewpoint as Ian tries to calm his colleague. We then switch back and forth between the two realities for a while, and Altos, who had seemed strange but nonthreatening before, now appears very creepy, particularly in the shots where we are looking through Barbara's eyes. We get one last view of the Doctor and Ian in the illusory world, then we move to a different set for the first time and from here on we are viewing things as they really are.
This switching of viewpoints is brilliantly done, and means that - in a sense - I'm lying about this being the first change of set. There were two copies of the reclining room, the main one and a reproduction of part of it in tatters. The "special effects" are done simply by pausing the filming while the actors move between sets. Nothing tricky, but it's very effective.
Time for another confession. I love stories that play with perceptions of reality, what is real and what is not, so I was predisposed to enjoy this episode. Films like A Beautiful Mind or Existenz get an immediate leg-up, so the good becomes great and the middling becomes good. How much of an effect this has had on me here is unclear; it's probably played a part, but I will still stand up for The Velvet Web as a fine example of television.
Meanwhile, getting back to the action, we finally see Barbara's real dress as she enters a room that looks like part of a ruined castle. The lighting here is beautiful, with great use of light and shade; I'll leave it as an exercise for the reader to think about the camera shots.
Then we get to the brains. Apparently these were the only monsters to freak out Carole Ann Ford, and Susan doesn't even get to meet them. They are very silly, of course, but that doesn't matter; they look alive and move rhythmically, so they work anyway. The shot through the brain glass is another fun touch, though for the first time the camera's movement is less smooth than it needs to be for full effect.
The show continues to look good - take for example the shot of Barbara talking to the hypnotised Sabetha as they are facing each other, in profile, Barbara in shade and Sabetha in light - but I'll shut up about it, and spend a little time talking about other things. The laboratory scene is hilarious, and the two Williams are obviously enjoying themselves. In fact all the acting is up to scratch - Katherine Schofield's eyes as Sabetha breaks free of her conditioning are particularly expressive - and it helps that so much of the focus is on Jacqueline Hill, who is the only regular not to show signs of fatigue.
The least effective scene comes at the end of the main plot. Ian's puny strangling attempts make sense, but only in retrospect - at the time it just looks like he's not trying hard enough - and the killing of the brains is not very effective. One jar gets smashed; why couldn't the others be also? The postscript is a bit rushed, and when the Doctor is talking to Susan the others obviously move together to look like they are doing something rather than standing around. These are enough to stop me giving it 10/10, though only just.
What about the cliffhanger, with Susan assaulted by the voices of the forest? There's only one word for it. Herbidacious!
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 18th April 1964
Viewers: 9.4 million
Chart Position: 25
Appreciation Index: 60
Rating:
9.5/10.
Next Time:
The Screaming Jungle.
The next scene, of course, is key, and it's the last I'll cover in detail. We fade up on a midshot of the Doctor, Susan and Ian, all awake, refreshed and enjoying a sumptuous breakfast, but Barbara is still sound asleep - as we see when the camera pans across to a quite intimate view alongside her. A few normal shots of the others follow, then we zoom in on her face as she wakes - and we suddenly cut to her viewpoint.
On first viewing I didn't notice the state of the surroundings straight away, just that Susan's dress didn't look up to much; but when Barbara tells them to look around it became obvious, and the tin mug sealed the deal. This viewpoint shot is held very static, in contrast to the fluidity of what we have just been watching; the only movement for quite some time is a slight pan to keep the Doctor in shot as he passes over the mug, and it quickly returns to its previous position. I might be reading too much into this, but it's noticeable that Ian is right in the middle, the human focus of Barbara's attention. As she gets more worked up and the others more confused we switch to a closeup of Susan, then her viewpoint as Ian tries to calm his colleague. We then switch back and forth between the two realities for a while, and Altos, who had seemed strange but nonthreatening before, now appears very creepy, particularly in the shots where we are looking through Barbara's eyes. We get one last view of the Doctor and Ian in the illusory world, then we move to a different set for the first time and from here on we are viewing things as they really are.
This switching of viewpoints is brilliantly done, and means that - in a sense - I'm lying about this being the first change of set. There were two copies of the reclining room, the main one and a reproduction of part of it in tatters. The "special effects" are done simply by pausing the filming while the actors move between sets. Nothing tricky, but it's very effective.
Time for another confession. I love stories that play with perceptions of reality, what is real and what is not, so I was predisposed to enjoy this episode. Films like A Beautiful Mind or Existenz get an immediate leg-up, so the good becomes great and the middling becomes good. How much of an effect this has had on me here is unclear; it's probably played a part, but I will still stand up for The Velvet Web as a fine example of television.
Meanwhile, getting back to the action, we finally see Barbara's real dress as she enters a room that looks like part of a ruined castle. The lighting here is beautiful, with great use of light and shade; I'll leave it as an exercise for the reader to think about the camera shots.
Then we get to the brains. Apparently these were the only monsters to freak out Carole Ann Ford, and Susan doesn't even get to meet them. They are very silly, of course, but that doesn't matter; they look alive and move rhythmically, so they work anyway. The shot through the brain glass is another fun touch, though for the first time the camera's movement is less smooth than it needs to be for full effect.
The show continues to look good - take for example the shot of Barbara talking to the hypnotised Sabetha as they are facing each other, in profile, Barbara in shade and Sabetha in light - but I'll shut up about it, and spend a little time talking about other things. The laboratory scene is hilarious, and the two Williams are obviously enjoying themselves. In fact all the acting is up to scratch - Katherine Schofield's eyes as Sabetha breaks free of her conditioning are particularly expressive - and it helps that so much of the focus is on Jacqueline Hill, who is the only regular not to show signs of fatigue.
The least effective scene comes at the end of the main plot. Ian's puny strangling attempts make sense, but only in retrospect - at the time it just looks like he's not trying hard enough - and the killing of the brains is not very effective. One jar gets smashed; why couldn't the others be also? The postscript is a bit rushed, and when the Doctor is talking to Susan the others obviously move together to look like they are doing something rather than standing around. These are enough to stop me giving it 10/10, though only just.
What about the cliffhanger, with Susan assaulted by the voices of the forest? There's only one word for it. Herbidacious!
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 18th April 1964
Viewers: 9.4 million
Chart Position: 25
Appreciation Index: 60
Rating:
9.5/10.
Next Time:
The Screaming Jungle.
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
Episode 22 (E2): The Velvet Web
Now, this is a different kettle of fish. The visuals in The Velvet Web are almost uniformly excellent - scenery, costumes, effects and direction - and although we have seen better examples of each aspect individually the combination makes this my favourite episode to look at so far. So much so, in fact, that I'm going to run through the story scene by scene in a kind of slomo liveblog. Along the way I'll also mention other aspects of the production, some of which are not so successful.
We start with the recap, as the Doctor, Ian and Susan discover Barbara's bloody travel dial. They are standing before some huge gates, the effect being similar to that of the impresario at a theatre announcing an act before the curtains go up. It's a simple, effective introduction. The characters are comfortably in their default roles: Ian is wound up and ready for action, the Doctor is calm and reasoning, Susan is standing around with nothing much to do. Still, Carole Ann Ford injects more life into her standing around than William Russell managed last time. They push open the doors and the camera moves slowly forward as they step into a different world, like viewers entering the garden of The Herbs (though that particular show is still four years in the future at this point). There is a blinding, pulsating light (presumably done by opening and closing the aperture to overexpose the film - sorry, tape) and a loud alarm, both of which are hard for the travellers to cope with; then they stop. Just as the trio are recovering there is a cut to a different angle, signalling the transition is complete. We are left wondering what the alarm was for but are carried along with the flow, waiting to see where they are now.
Gentle flute music starts up, combining with the scenery to indicate a calm, peaceful place. Ian's cry of disbelief is followed by another cut, to Barbara reclining on a couch - safe relaxed, and happy. She gets up to welcome the others, reassures Susan that she's alright, and -
Wait a minute! That's the resolution to the cliffhanger? "I scratched myself"? I'm sorry, but that is sooo laaaame. Tut tut, Mr. Nation, I know you're capable of better than that.
Anyway. There then follows some nice character play, with Iananbarbara bantering, Susan full of enjoyment and the Doctor looking around curiously before he gets lured by a pomegranate. This is, of course, a clue for those who know their Greek mythology, since Persephone had to spend part of the year in Hades because she ate of its fruit, thus causing Winter. It's a subtle reference, though; I missed it first time around, because it's slipped into a scene focusing on the decadence.
Let's say a little more about that decadence. The set is cleverly dressed and shot to look much bigger than it could have been in Lime Grove Studio D, including at least one painted backdrop as well as drapes in archways (and we tend to associate Graeco-Roman trappings with luxury anyway, so these serve double duty). The way the camera follows Susan across to the silks shows off the space to best advantage, and the serving girls in flowing robes bringing in lots of rich food to the sound of a gong adds to the effect further. They are briefly shot coming down the entranceway, which gives an impression of further space behind the camera.
The meal is well-presented, with interesting shots - closeups of the food, for instance, and the low camera angle looking up over Barbara's shoulder to echo her viewpoint. Notice also Altos' arrival, beginning with the closeup on his back and holding steady while he walks away from the camera, thereby gradually revealing more of the set.
Robin Phillips gives quite an eerie performance, which is hard to do when you are also being friendly and providing exposition. The serving girls have an easier time of it, simply having to look ethereal and not speak, but Altos brings a sense of uncertainty to the viewer, a reminder that something is off-kilter, even as he tries to reassure Ian. Immediately after this notice how the camera focuses on Susan and the Doctor as they think about their desires, and in between has a good variety of static midshots and active tracking of the characters, who also keep moving in a naturalistic (though carefully choreographed) fashion. It all works to make what could have been a very static, talky scene into something visually interesting.
And then, of course, Altos suggests sleep, and everyone realises how tired they are. Suddenly. Was there something in the food? The Doctor lies down, and we have a continuous stretch of 2 minutes 22 seconds with no cuts as Barbara puts Susan to bed and shares a tender moment with Ian, who tries to put his worries aside and lies down. The camera continues to pan around the sleeping figures until it gets to the face on the wall (holding while the eyes light up), then back to the door as Sabetha comes in and, trance-like, puts things on their foreheads. It's a complicated camera move with low shots and high shots, fast and slow movements, closeups and wide shots. The last half-minute or so is very slow and soporific, the breathing effect and Sabetha's quiet footsteps being all that we hear.
And then it cuts, just before she puts the final doohickey on Barbara's forehead. After so long on one camera move the effect is quite jarring, and when the lights start flashing and the alarm goes off we are thrown right back to the beginning of the story, our sense of unease replaced by a threat reaction. This is ambitious direction supported by skilled, well-practiced camera operators and actors who manage to hit their marks reliably. It's hard to believe that John Gorrie directed both this and the previous episode; the contrast is quite stark. Anyway, Barbara tries to fight the effects, tries to scream, but cannot - and falls unconscious as the alarm and the lights fade...
I'm over a thousand words in and less than nine minutes into the program. I could cut this and edit ruthlessly, but I'm having fun. I could also make this a mammoth entry and forget about my 500-1000 word target. However, we've actually hit quite a good break point, so I'm going to go for option C: split the episode across two posts. I'll stop going into so much detail, but hopefully by now you've got some idea of why I really like it.
Goodbye, Parsley. See you again soon.
Next Time:
More of the same...
We start with the recap, as the Doctor, Ian and Susan discover Barbara's bloody travel dial. They are standing before some huge gates, the effect being similar to that of the impresario at a theatre announcing an act before the curtains go up. It's a simple, effective introduction. The characters are comfortably in their default roles: Ian is wound up and ready for action, the Doctor is calm and reasoning, Susan is standing around with nothing much to do. Still, Carole Ann Ford injects more life into her standing around than William Russell managed last time. They push open the doors and the camera moves slowly forward as they step into a different world, like viewers entering the garden of The Herbs (though that particular show is still four years in the future at this point). There is a blinding, pulsating light (presumably done by opening and closing the aperture to overexpose the film - sorry, tape) and a loud alarm, both of which are hard for the travellers to cope with; then they stop. Just as the trio are recovering there is a cut to a different angle, signalling the transition is complete. We are left wondering what the alarm was for but are carried along with the flow, waiting to see where they are now.
Gentle flute music starts up, combining with the scenery to indicate a calm, peaceful place. Ian's cry of disbelief is followed by another cut, to Barbara reclining on a couch - safe relaxed, and happy. She gets up to welcome the others, reassures Susan that she's alright, and -
Wait a minute! That's the resolution to the cliffhanger? "I scratched myself"? I'm sorry, but that is sooo laaaame. Tut tut, Mr. Nation, I know you're capable of better than that.
Anyway. There then follows some nice character play, with Iananbarbara bantering, Susan full of enjoyment and the Doctor looking around curiously before he gets lured by a pomegranate. This is, of course, a clue for those who know their Greek mythology, since Persephone had to spend part of the year in Hades because she ate of its fruit, thus causing Winter. It's a subtle reference, though; I missed it first time around, because it's slipped into a scene focusing on the decadence.
Let's say a little more about that decadence. The set is cleverly dressed and shot to look much bigger than it could have been in Lime Grove Studio D, including at least one painted backdrop as well as drapes in archways (and we tend to associate Graeco-Roman trappings with luxury anyway, so these serve double duty). The way the camera follows Susan across to the silks shows off the space to best advantage, and the serving girls in flowing robes bringing in lots of rich food to the sound of a gong adds to the effect further. They are briefly shot coming down the entranceway, which gives an impression of further space behind the camera.
The meal is well-presented, with interesting shots - closeups of the food, for instance, and the low camera angle looking up over Barbara's shoulder to echo her viewpoint. Notice also Altos' arrival, beginning with the closeup on his back and holding steady while he walks away from the camera, thereby gradually revealing more of the set.
Robin Phillips gives quite an eerie performance, which is hard to do when you are also being friendly and providing exposition. The serving girls have an easier time of it, simply having to look ethereal and not speak, but Altos brings a sense of uncertainty to the viewer, a reminder that something is off-kilter, even as he tries to reassure Ian. Immediately after this notice how the camera focuses on Susan and the Doctor as they think about their desires, and in between has a good variety of static midshots and active tracking of the characters, who also keep moving in a naturalistic (though carefully choreographed) fashion. It all works to make what could have been a very static, talky scene into something visually interesting.
And then, of course, Altos suggests sleep, and everyone realises how tired they are. Suddenly. Was there something in the food? The Doctor lies down, and we have a continuous stretch of 2 minutes 22 seconds with no cuts as Barbara puts Susan to bed and shares a tender moment with Ian, who tries to put his worries aside and lies down. The camera continues to pan around the sleeping figures until it gets to the face on the wall (holding while the eyes light up), then back to the door as Sabetha comes in and, trance-like, puts things on their foreheads. It's a complicated camera move with low shots and high shots, fast and slow movements, closeups and wide shots. The last half-minute or so is very slow and soporific, the breathing effect and Sabetha's quiet footsteps being all that we hear.
And then it cuts, just before she puts the final doohickey on Barbara's forehead. After so long on one camera move the effect is quite jarring, and when the lights start flashing and the alarm goes off we are thrown right back to the beginning of the story, our sense of unease replaced by a threat reaction. This is ambitious direction supported by skilled, well-practiced camera operators and actors who manage to hit their marks reliably. It's hard to believe that John Gorrie directed both this and the previous episode; the contrast is quite stark. Anyway, Barbara tries to fight the effects, tries to scream, but cannot - and falls unconscious as the alarm and the lights fade...
I'm over a thousand words in and less than nine minutes into the program. I could cut this and edit ruthlessly, but I'm having fun. I could also make this a mammoth entry and forget about my 500-1000 word target. However, we've actually hit quite a good break point, so I'm going to go for option C: split the episode across two posts. I'll stop going into so much detail, but hopefully by now you've got some idea of why I really like it.
Goodbye, Parsley. See you again soon.
Next Time:
More of the same...
Monday, 3 October 2011
Episode 21 (E1): The Sea of Death
Hooray! After a long time I've finally got to an episode with some proper, animated visuals. Not all of them are great, but quality is not really relevant when I'm seeking grist for the reviewer's mill.
Let's start at the very beginning, which is, I'm reliably informed, a very good place to start. The story opens with a rather nice model shot of an island. The camera slowly zooms in on the beach, and we see the TARDIS materialising for the first time. Except that it's very obviously a model. We'll soon see another model shot, of boats arriving at the island, and like the TARDIS the models look considerably worse than the full-size versions. This is almost a metaphor for the episode, which is ambitious but repeatedly let down by small things that ping my disbelief suspenders. Like the falling Voord in a later model shot.
Still, let's not focus entirely on the negative. The set dressing on the first live action scene is good, giving an alien feel to the beach; and actually the idea of focusing on the travellers' faces as they look at the landscape works, even though it is a money-saving rather than an artistic decision. I thought the Voord looked like men in rubber suits, but then the revelation that they actually are wearing full-cover bodysuits to protect them from the acid means they work as well.
The TARDIS crew look tired, and although Jacqueline Hill is her usual quietly reliable self the rest are not on top form. William Hartnell is fluffing from the start (though the line about Ian's shoes is wonderful); the moment when William Russell is standing by the acid pool and obviously just waiting to say his line is his weakest moment of the series so far; and there are moments when Carole Ann Ford appears to have given up and is screaming on autopilot. Similarly, George Coulouris as Arbitan, despite being an acclaimed actor of stage and screen, adds very little to the proceedings.
The scenes outside the tower are mixed. There is a very effective false perspective backdrop that does a good job of making a small set look larger, but the rotating wall trick works about as well as it generally does in live action - which is to say, not well at all. On one occasion you can clearly see a stagehand who is presumably turning the wall: this didn't matter the first time I saw it because I assumed he was one of the inhabitants grabbing the intruder, but this doesn't hold up on subsequent viewings.
OK, I'm going to take a diversion here for a brief mention of Gerry Anderson's Supermarionation puppet shows, which were on the rise at the time. Fireball XL5 had finished its original run shortly before Who started and was the last to be made in black and white; Stingray was in production, the first all-colour series ever made in Britain (thanks to Anderson and ITC head Lew Grade, who were both keen to market the shows in the US). Still to come was Anderson's biggest hit, Thunderbirds, amongst others. We'll return to the actual Supermarionation TV programs on other occasions, but for now I want to mention an odd theatrical spin-off: Thunderbirds: FAB. I went to see the show sometime in the 1990s, with my wife-to-be and another very good friend. It's a mime show, with two performers from The Mime Theatre Project acting out all the parts - including the vehicles. It was hugely entertaining, and took the mickey out of some of the tropes of the show in a gentle, affectionate way.
I bring this up because of one of my favourite scenes. Someone is trapped in rising water, which is rapidly getting to the point where they won't be able to breathe. The action cuts away to the other performer, and when it cuts back the water is lower again, and rising fast. Rinse and repeat. This same thing happens with Susan approaching the corner outside the tower when the Voord is waiting for her - we cut away, and when we return she's further away. It made me laugh, and when the regulars find themselves having to act "trapped outside of a glass box" - reversing a mime stereotype - I decided I had to say something.
The direction is very flat to start with, in some cases emphasising rather than hiding the cramped nature of the sets, but loosens up later on with a good mix of angles, closeups and midshots. The alien-sounding music is also effective, and the travel dials - forerunners of the new series' vortex manipulators - are handled well. The videogame "collect the pieces of the sacred MacGuffin" plot is introduced, the death of Arbitan promising trouble at the finishing line, and - while this episode has not been up to much - there are certainly opportunities for adventure over the next few weeks.
There. I did say I'd try not to be entirely negative, didn't I?
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 11th April 1964
Viewers: 9.9 million
Chart Position: 22
Appreciation Index: 62
Rating:
3/10.
Next Time:
The Velvet Web.
Let's start at the very beginning, which is, I'm reliably informed, a very good place to start. The story opens with a rather nice model shot of an island. The camera slowly zooms in on the beach, and we see the TARDIS materialising for the first time. Except that it's very obviously a model. We'll soon see another model shot, of boats arriving at the island, and like the TARDIS the models look considerably worse than the full-size versions. This is almost a metaphor for the episode, which is ambitious but repeatedly let down by small things that ping my disbelief suspenders. Like the falling Voord in a later model shot.
Still, let's not focus entirely on the negative. The set dressing on the first live action scene is good, giving an alien feel to the beach; and actually the idea of focusing on the travellers' faces as they look at the landscape works, even though it is a money-saving rather than an artistic decision. I thought the Voord looked like men in rubber suits, but then the revelation that they actually are wearing full-cover bodysuits to protect them from the acid means they work as well.
The TARDIS crew look tired, and although Jacqueline Hill is her usual quietly reliable self the rest are not on top form. William Hartnell is fluffing from the start (though the line about Ian's shoes is wonderful); the moment when William Russell is standing by the acid pool and obviously just waiting to say his line is his weakest moment of the series so far; and there are moments when Carole Ann Ford appears to have given up and is screaming on autopilot. Similarly, George Coulouris as Arbitan, despite being an acclaimed actor of stage and screen, adds very little to the proceedings.
The scenes outside the tower are mixed. There is a very effective false perspective backdrop that does a good job of making a small set look larger, but the rotating wall trick works about as well as it generally does in live action - which is to say, not well at all. On one occasion you can clearly see a stagehand who is presumably turning the wall: this didn't matter the first time I saw it because I assumed he was one of the inhabitants grabbing the intruder, but this doesn't hold up on subsequent viewings.
OK, I'm going to take a diversion here for a brief mention of Gerry Anderson's Supermarionation puppet shows, which were on the rise at the time. Fireball XL5 had finished its original run shortly before Who started and was the last to be made in black and white; Stingray was in production, the first all-colour series ever made in Britain (thanks to Anderson and ITC head Lew Grade, who were both keen to market the shows in the US). Still to come was Anderson's biggest hit, Thunderbirds, amongst others. We'll return to the actual Supermarionation TV programs on other occasions, but for now I want to mention an odd theatrical spin-off: Thunderbirds: FAB. I went to see the show sometime in the 1990s, with my wife-to-be and another very good friend. It's a mime show, with two performers from The Mime Theatre Project acting out all the parts - including the vehicles. It was hugely entertaining, and took the mickey out of some of the tropes of the show in a gentle, affectionate way.
I bring this up because of one of my favourite scenes. Someone is trapped in rising water, which is rapidly getting to the point where they won't be able to breathe. The action cuts away to the other performer, and when it cuts back the water is lower again, and rising fast. Rinse and repeat. This same thing happens with Susan approaching the corner outside the tower when the Voord is waiting for her - we cut away, and when we return she's further away. It made me laugh, and when the regulars find themselves having to act "trapped outside of a glass box" - reversing a mime stereotype - I decided I had to say something.
The direction is very flat to start with, in some cases emphasising rather than hiding the cramped nature of the sets, but loosens up later on with a good mix of angles, closeups and midshots. The alien-sounding music is also effective, and the travel dials - forerunners of the new series' vortex manipulators - are handled well. The videogame "collect the pieces of the sacred MacGuffin" plot is introduced, the death of Arbitan promising trouble at the finishing line, and - while this episode has not been up to much - there are certainly opportunities for adventure over the next few weeks.
There. I did say I'd try not to be entirely negative, didn't I?
Broadcast:
Date: Saturday, 11th April 1964
Viewers: 9.9 million
Chart Position: 22
Appreciation Index: 62
Rating:
3/10.
Next Time:
The Velvet Web.
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