Spoilers ahoy! Here's a three-part short story, and I almost split up my review accordingly; but I didn't have quite enough to say...
Part One: The Valiant Woman
"These are the last days." So thinks Barbara Wright, on a bus to her job at Coal Hill School in 1963, travelling across the ruins of a dying London in the future, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of Jewish rebels trapped in Masada in 72AD. She has these episodes, you see, where she can't tell what is real and what is... something else.
Still, she manages to get to school, and with enough time to tidy herself up. She briefly encounters Ian Chesterton, a man she has pigeonholed as liberal - "wrong but romantic", quoting the immortal words of Messrs. Sellar and Yeatman, historians extraordinaire. Though they applied the phrase to the Cavaliers; and it makes one wonder how she sees herself: a conservative Roundhead, "Wright but repulsive", perhaps?
She makes it through the school day, just, but not without cost. A contretemps with class weirdo Susan Foreman involving decimalisation, dollars and cents (and why did the author have to bring US currency into it?) leads to her investigating her pupil's home. A policeman directs her to Totter's Lane, she finds and enters the junkyard, approaches a Police Telephone Box which is humming - and it becomes clear that her viewpoint is that of the camera in the opening scene of An Unearthly Child, and of the show as a whole.
So far, so good. If it weren't for the "episodes", this could be a fleshing out of Barbara's life in the time leading up to her conversation with Ian in the scenes following that fog-filled beginning.
Part Two: The Watchers on the Walls
But she is having episodes - appropriately named, too, since they are effectively adventures (though of a more horrific sort than we got to see on TV) - and she has one right at the beginning of the second part. It's disorientating, which is good, and then she has dinner with Ian. More background-filling. And after he's gone, a nightmare. Back to school for a book being requested by the class weirdo, and we have caught up with the next scene.
The back-and-forth between the utter mundanity of Iananbarbara's everyday lives and the horror of her visions has drawn me in by this time. There's a sense that reality is indeterminate, that we're not meant to choose between the horrific and the mundane. It's a bit like the unreality of Campaign, though on a smaller scale. If things continue in the same vein, Part Three will skip past the scene with Susan in the classroom and fill in the gap from there to the moment when Iananbarbara are waiting in the car.
Part Three: The Only Living Thing
But that's not what happens. Instead, we get a more detailed (but slightly warped) view of that scene in the classroom, with Barbara mishearing the name of the group as John Smith and his Companions, an event which points out that even in these sections we are in a postmodern story. Then we skip to the two teachers in the car, and realise that everything has shifted so that we are now in phase with the An Unearthly Child. The sign on the gate, apparently reading IamFORman, keeps us on our toes, but things remain resolutely normal.
Until they search the junkyard and find, not a Police Box, but a strong box. Right back in my first review I said of the Doctor, "It sort of looks as if he is keeping Susan locked up in the police box, and although it doesn't feel as if the program is that grim we have been kept off-balance enough to pause. If not, why is he so desperate to keep the teachers out?"
Here the story really does feel that grim, and when Grandfather attacks we know things are very wrong...
And then they aren't. The mind-manipulating menace is defeated, everyone's back in the TARDIS, recovering, and all is right with the world. Except it's still a postmodern world, and we are gifted with the wonderful, contradictory (though not self-contradictory) statement "You can't change history. Not one word." Barbara wanders through the normal (for Who) world of the TARDIS, off-balance.
Then this, too, is shown to be a lie, and (like a certain point in the film Labyrinth) she is back fighting Grandfather. Two teachers stumble away from the conflict, while echoes of another reality filter through Barbara's consciousness, and an alternate beginning is offered.
So, where and when is this story? Is it all a dream induced by some psychic alien, as implied earlier, in which case the menace still needs defeating; or is it an alternate reality? Or perhaps it's just make-believe, outside the chronology, beyond the Whoniverse? I have a strong pull to make everything fit together, but there are some stories - like The Longest Story in the World, elsewhere in this collection - that cannot fit. Nothing at the End of the Lane is a borderline case, deliberately so.
I don't like this story, it's nasty and incomplete. I really like it, it's finely crafted and chilling. Both these statements are true, at the same time. People's minds are not one-tracked - we can hold contradictions in our heads with ease, and O'Mahony makes use of that quite brilliantly here. It's not a story I want to come back to often, but I've happily read it three or four times; and each time I get a little more out of it. Which is all I can ask for, really.
Published:
Date: March 2000
ISBN: 0-563-55599-8
Rating:
6.5/10.
Next Time:
Back into the past again for another short trip: Mire and Clay.
Friday, 24 February 2012
Monday, 20 February 2012
Short Trips 1.04: The Last Days, by Evan Pritchard
This story is set in one of the more interesting decades of Imperial Roman times - the 70s - which saw the Siege of Jerusalem, the eruption of Vesuvius and a particularly unstable period for the throne. (Though it must be said, the 60s were pretty eventful too!) I've read books and seen documentaries on various events from the time, but what connected it all together for me was a children's historical mystery series - Roman Mysteries, by Caroline Lawrence - which is a good read but has also been well adapted for CBBC. Obviously the books have more detail, but both forms are fun and informative.
The Siege of Masada, however, is one of the events not covered (at least, in the ones I've read). As with The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, we join our heroes partway through: interestingly, about the time Barbara returns to consciousness after an extended period.
We don't start with Barbara, though. Instead, the opening paragraph has the Doctor exhorting the Romans on to greater efforts against the Jewish rebels. This struck a slightly painful chord, as William Hartnell has sometimes been accused of anti-Semitism. It seems unlikely to me that his was a severe case, given how well he got on with Carole Ann Ford and Verity Lambert (both Jewish); but I suspect he would not have hesitated to use "Jew" as an insult for someone who had annoyed him. I'm sure he was not above using other slurs, too, but then I don't believe in sharp dividing lines between anti-Semitism, racism, sexism or homophobia and their absence. Such distinctions don't help; you should be able to criticise someone's behaviour without lumping them in with Heinrich Himmler and threatening to "ship 'em back where they came from, along with the rest of the bigots."
Anyway, rant aside, this story completes the trilogy of historical intervention begun in The Aztecs and continued in Farewell, Great Macedon. Although they find themselves on opposite sides of the siege, the Doctor and Barbara are now on the same side in the matter of historical inevitability. Both are working to make history come out as it should. It's Ian who rails against it this time, and he has one very good line, even if it's only in his head: "Barbara might have read the history books, but he knew these people's names." Lovely.
It's an ugly chapter in history, and in some ways it's portrayed sensitively, with combatants on both sides shown to be human; but the involvement of the travellers can't help but trivialise the subject to an extent. And the way Ian is made to suffer is almost sadism on the part of the author, with the reader as voyeur. I don't like it. Not that it's necessarily a bad place to go with a story - Lois McMaster Bujold once said that her plotting often relied on thinking "what's the worst thing I can do to this character now?" - but the way it's done, and how it's linked to the real, historical suffering of people in ancient Judaea, mean that it's really not for me.
Published:
Date: March 1998
ISBN: 0-563-40560-0
Rating:
4.5/10.
Next Time:
There may be a slight delay, either before the next review or before the one after that. As usual in school holidays, I've done hardly any writing; and since I kept on posting last week I've used up my buffer. Still, on the plus side, I did get to go down to London and see friends - and while I was there I caught the Doctor Who Experience before its closure next Wednesday. Expect a review here in about another quarter-century.
Anyway, whenever it arrives, the next entry will be sticking with short trips but stepping sideways for Nothing at the End of the Lane...
The Siege of Masada, however, is one of the events not covered (at least, in the ones I've read). As with The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, we join our heroes partway through: interestingly, about the time Barbara returns to consciousness after an extended period.
We don't start with Barbara, though. Instead, the opening paragraph has the Doctor exhorting the Romans on to greater efforts against the Jewish rebels. This struck a slightly painful chord, as William Hartnell has sometimes been accused of anti-Semitism. It seems unlikely to me that his was a severe case, given how well he got on with Carole Ann Ford and Verity Lambert (both Jewish); but I suspect he would not have hesitated to use "Jew" as an insult for someone who had annoyed him. I'm sure he was not above using other slurs, too, but then I don't believe in sharp dividing lines between anti-Semitism, racism, sexism or homophobia and their absence. Such distinctions don't help; you should be able to criticise someone's behaviour without lumping them in with Heinrich Himmler and threatening to "ship 'em back where they came from, along with the rest of the bigots."
Anyway, rant aside, this story completes the trilogy of historical intervention begun in The Aztecs and continued in Farewell, Great Macedon. Although they find themselves on opposite sides of the siege, the Doctor and Barbara are now on the same side in the matter of historical inevitability. Both are working to make history come out as it should. It's Ian who rails against it this time, and he has one very good line, even if it's only in his head: "Barbara might have read the history books, but he knew these people's names." Lovely.
It's an ugly chapter in history, and in some ways it's portrayed sensitively, with combatants on both sides shown to be human; but the involvement of the travellers can't help but trivialise the subject to an extent. And the way Ian is made to suffer is almost sadism on the part of the author, with the reader as voyeur. I don't like it. Not that it's necessarily a bad place to go with a story - Lois McMaster Bujold once said that her plotting often relied on thinking "what's the worst thing I can do to this character now?" - but the way it's done, and how it's linked to the real, historical suffering of people in ancient Judaea, mean that it's really not for me.
Published:
Date: March 1998
ISBN: 0-563-40560-0
Rating:
4.5/10.
Next Time:
There may be a slight delay, either before the next review or before the one after that. As usual in school holidays, I've done hardly any writing; and since I kept on posting last week I've used up my buffer. Still, on the plus side, I did get to go down to London and see friends - and while I was there I caught the Doctor Who Experience before its closure next Wednesday. Expect a review here in about another quarter-century.
Anyway, whenever it arrives, the next entry will be sticking with short trips but stepping sideways for Nothing at the End of the Lane...
Friday, 17 February 2012
Unpublished PDA: Campaign, by Jim Mortimore
Come in, Mister Mortimore, I've been expecting you.
[Reviewer strokes imaginary fluffy white cat.]
What's that? Ah yes, my apologies for the stereotypical specimen of felis silvestris catus. It would have been a corn snake, but ours has just died. And I'm currently laid up with a fever. So I am not in the best of moods.
[Mortimore tries to speak, only to realise he has no face.]
Again, my apologies. I have no idea what you look or sound like, so I haven't bothered to imagine you properly. Minion! Fetch the prisoner a face mask.
[A brief delay, then the shadowy minion places a cardboard cutout of Patrick McGoohan's face over the author's lack-of-features.]
I didn't ask for a The Prisoner face mask, you imbecile! Still, it does seem... appropriate. For an author who transgresses as often as you do.
Oh yes, I know who you are. You are the one who cannot resist pushing at boundaries. Usually by seeing how much death, destruction and pain you can inflict on your characters, but also in other ways. You wrote the truly wonderful A Natural History of Fear, one of the strangest Big Finish audios ever and certainly the jewel in the crown of the Divergent Universe arc, and that alone would earn you a place in my personal hall of fame. I've not read all your other Who novels and short stories, but those I haven't I know by reputation; and you also wrote this.
Readers who hate spoilers should look away now. Isn't that right, Mr. Flopsy?
[The large white rabbit jumps down off the reviewer's lap and starts nibbling at Mortimore's toes. Assuming he has toes.]
My favourite episode of Red Dwarf is Back to Reality, which reveals early on that the characters' adventures are all part of a virtual reality game. This is what happens at the end of Campaign, where the Game of Me (which has been mentioned throughout) turns out to be the V.R. game they are playing. (While we're spoiling, I'll tell you that Ian wins. Nyer.) And although 'reset switches' are lame devices, what else can you do when you've destroyed the universe outside the Tardis and killed everyone inside? Many times?
The point is that it doesn't matter, because the novel isn't really about that; it's exploring paths not taken in Who, in the author's inimitable, unrestrained style.
ISN'T IT, MISTER MORTIMORE?!
[The white hamster scurries away at the sudden sound.]
You went so far this time that you scared off the BBC. Oh, maybe it was the shouting matches rather than the content, although it sounds as if there was a lot they wanted changed. But there were some things you wouldn't budge on. As a result you published it for charity instead, and then made it available online. Which is nice.
Within the Whoniverse, large parts of this form the earliest sequel to The Edge of Destruction, set entirely within T.A.R.D.I.S.; but this is married to events outside happening around the time of Farewell, Great Macedon - or at least an alternate version of same. Cliffanlola get the bulk of the focus, though it opens with Alexander himself. And, actually, closes with our heroes about to go off and meet the king for the first time. Which means that I've reviewed this in the wrong place. And that the Doctor can control the TARDIS. So within the novel even reality isn't, if you get my drift. It's like eXistenZ - how many layers down can you go until you drop out of the Whoniverse completely and into the mundane world of discarded character outlines and rejected BBC scripts - The Masters of Luxor; Farewell, Great Macedon; and, of course, Campaign itself? The snake bites its own tail.
Speaking of discarded characters, it's hard to comment on things like characterisation when they are changing every other page. Sometimes even the format changes, giving us John and Gillian in comic strip form, or words arranged like Carroll's The Mouse's Tale, or optical illusions turning the simplest of games, through repetition, into DNA (double helix, not Douglas Adams!) and then Breughel's tower of Babel. It's all part of the madness. But glorious madness.
Very well, I suppose you can go. Just pass that poodle back to me, will you? Ta.
Oh, and it's true about the fever, so if this review (if that is what it is) lacks coherence I do have an excuse; at the moment it seems like a good idea, given the nature of the book I'm reviewing. And I did cut out the bit about the gorilla. Except... well, I only wrote part of it while feverish, though I tried to stick to the plan I made while I was. Robert Heinlein had a stroke while writing The Number of the Beast, and people have claimed that they can pinpoint the place in the writing where it happened. Perhaps the same will be true here?
Unfortunately, it's also true what I said about the snake dying.
RIP Sunlight. You are already sorely missed.
Published:
Date: May 2000
ISBN:
Rating:
How can you rate something like this? I enjoyed bits of it, and admired other bits. It's pretty violent in places (though not gratuitously so), which is a bit of a turn-off for me; but on the other hand it's all about perceptions of reality, which is very much my thing. 10/10 for chutzpah, 0/10 for sanity? Whatever, it's well worth experiencing. Go get it and decide for yourself. And if you do love it, contribute to the Bristol Area Downs Syndrome Association. Details in the book.
Next Time:
It sounds like it should be set at the end of time, but it's not. The Doctor's going Roman for The Last Days.
[Reviewer strokes imaginary fluffy white cat.]
What's that? Ah yes, my apologies for the stereotypical specimen of felis silvestris catus. It would have been a corn snake, but ours has just died. And I'm currently laid up with a fever. So I am not in the best of moods.
[Mortimore tries to speak, only to realise he has no face.]
Again, my apologies. I have no idea what you look or sound like, so I haven't bothered to imagine you properly. Minion! Fetch the prisoner a face mask.
[A brief delay, then the shadowy minion places a cardboard cutout of Patrick McGoohan's face over the author's lack-of-features.]
I didn't ask for a The Prisoner face mask, you imbecile! Still, it does seem... appropriate. For an author who transgresses as often as you do.
Oh yes, I know who you are. You are the one who cannot resist pushing at boundaries. Usually by seeing how much death, destruction and pain you can inflict on your characters, but also in other ways. You wrote the truly wonderful A Natural History of Fear, one of the strangest Big Finish audios ever and certainly the jewel in the crown of the Divergent Universe arc, and that alone would earn you a place in my personal hall of fame. I've not read all your other Who novels and short stories, but those I haven't I know by reputation; and you also wrote this.
Readers who hate spoilers should look away now. Isn't that right, Mr. Flopsy?
[The large white rabbit jumps down off the reviewer's lap and starts nibbling at Mortimore's toes. Assuming he has toes.]
My favourite episode of Red Dwarf is Back to Reality, which reveals early on that the characters' adventures are all part of a virtual reality game. This is what happens at the end of Campaign, where the Game of Me (which has been mentioned throughout) turns out to be the V.R. game they are playing. (While we're spoiling, I'll tell you that Ian wins. Nyer.) And although 'reset switches' are lame devices, what else can you do when you've destroyed the universe outside the Tardis and killed everyone inside? Many times?
The point is that it doesn't matter, because the novel isn't really about that; it's exploring paths not taken in Who, in the author's inimitable, unrestrained style.
ISN'T IT, MISTER MORTIMORE?!
[The white hamster scurries away at the sudden sound.]
You went so far this time that you scared off the BBC. Oh, maybe it was the shouting matches rather than the content, although it sounds as if there was a lot they wanted changed. But there were some things you wouldn't budge on. As a result you published it for charity instead, and then made it available online. Which is nice.
Within the Whoniverse, large parts of this form the earliest sequel to The Edge of Destruction, set entirely within T.A.R.D.I.S.; but this is married to events outside happening around the time of Farewell, Great Macedon - or at least an alternate version of same. Cliffanlola get the bulk of the focus, though it opens with Alexander himself. And, actually, closes with our heroes about to go off and meet the king for the first time. Which means that I've reviewed this in the wrong place. And that the Doctor can control the TARDIS. So within the novel even reality isn't, if you get my drift. It's like eXistenZ - how many layers down can you go until you drop out of the Whoniverse completely and into the mundane world of discarded character outlines and rejected BBC scripts - The Masters of Luxor; Farewell, Great Macedon; and, of course, Campaign itself? The snake bites its own tail.
Speaking of discarded characters, it's hard to comment on things like characterisation when they are changing every other page. Sometimes even the format changes, giving us John and Gillian in comic strip form, or words arranged like Carroll's The Mouse's Tale, or optical illusions turning the simplest of games, through repetition, into DNA (double helix, not Douglas Adams!) and then Breughel's tower of Babel. It's all part of the madness. But glorious madness.
Very well, I suppose you can go. Just pass that poodle back to me, will you? Ta.
Oh, and it's true about the fever, so if this review (if that is what it is) lacks coherence I do have an excuse; at the moment it seems like a good idea, given the nature of the book I'm reviewing. And I did cut out the bit about the gorilla. Except... well, I only wrote part of it while feverish, though I tried to stick to the plan I made while I was. Robert Heinlein had a stroke while writing The Number of the Beast, and people have claimed that they can pinpoint the place in the writing where it happened. Perhaps the same will be true here?
Unfortunately, it's also true what I said about the snake dying.
RIP Sunlight. You are already sorely missed.
Published:
Date: May 2000
ISBN:
Rating:
How can you rate something like this? I enjoyed bits of it, and admired other bits. It's pretty violent in places (though not gratuitously so), which is a bit of a turn-off for me; but on the other hand it's all about perceptions of reality, which is very much my thing. 10/10 for chutzpah, 0/10 for sanity? Whatever, it's well worth experiencing. Go get it and decide for yourself. And if you do love it, contribute to the Bristol Area Downs Syndrome Association. Details in the book.
Next Time:
It sounds like it should be set at the end of time, but it's not. The Doctor's going Roman for The Last Days.
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1b: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance, continued
Right. I can't go any further into the review without talking about Barbara. If the story of Who to this point can be said to be about anybody, it has been about her. She has changed and grown far more than the others - the opposite pole to the Doctor's own development over the first three serials; driving the plot in The Aztecs; her growing emotional involvement in her travels in The Reign of Terror, Farewell, Great Macedon and here. Had these last two stories been shown on the telly at the time I would have said that she had more emotional development in one year than any other classic TV companion, with the possible exceptions of Ace in her last five stories (which, as I've argued before, mirror season 1 in more than one respect) or - stretching a point - Mike Yates in the run from The Green Death to Planet of the Spiders. This may be a function of the marathon, and I may see it in others as I progress; but even if I do the development of Barbara can still be held up as a fine example.
And yet, in the midst of all this change, she is the rock-solid emotional anchor of the team. There was talk at one point of getting rid of Barbara in the final story of the first production run - the upcoming Return of the Daleks - and presumably this was because Hill wasn't sure if she wanted to commit to more; but I am very glad she did. The show isn't ready to be without her, not yet.
So, imagine listening to this story without future knowledge. There is that doubt, kept bubbling for most of the story, over whether Barbara will stay on Fragrance. To begin with there's the "does she, doesn't she?" question: whether she loves Rhythm as a friend, or as something more. Ian's relief on learning the answer is palpable, and it occurs to me that their chaste love for each other - sometimes held up as a fan theory imposed on the era from the viewpoint of later years - is here acknowledged by a writer in 1964. One can only imagine what Ian would be like if, say, she had died of radiation poisoning as a result of their exposure on Skaro!
The tension (for both Ian and listener) continues as Barbara learns of the consequences for Rhythm should she leave, and everyone awaits her decision. Then - just as in Farewell, Great Macedon - the Doctor overrules her. This time it is more than just the arrogance of patriarchy, because it was held out that she actually had a choice. We are left in the uncomfortable position of feeling relief at a betrayal of trust, of being glad that Barbara had her freedom of choice taken away. It's not very flattering: we want her to stay, and are willing to sanction almost anything to keep her with us despite her own nobility. How selfish is that, compared to what she was prepared to sacrifice?
And then, kidnapped by the Doctor for the second time, she gets to watch the man who declared his love for her burn. A man she was prepared to give up everything for, not because she was in love with him but because it was the right thing to do. Now, that's hard.
A Confused Chronology, part 3: When Did They Visit Fragrance?
As a pair these audios do fit nicely into the inter-season gap, but which comes first? I can see why this is the second story in the boxset. It's very much the lesser attraction - single-episode, not one of the (now) highly-regarded historicals, never intended for broadcast. Its length also means that there's plenty of space on the disk for the extras, which should be heard after the stories. Unfortunately, this placement on the final disk means that most timelines, by default, set it chronologically after Farewell, Great Macedon. Having heard it I would say that it works better before: that way, the events here can inform Barbara's desperate need to leave before Alexander dies.
Rating:
5.5/10.
Next Time:
Very much sideways for Jim Mortimore's self-published PDA, Campaign.
And yet, in the midst of all this change, she is the rock-solid emotional anchor of the team. There was talk at one point of getting rid of Barbara in the final story of the first production run - the upcoming Return of the Daleks - and presumably this was because Hill wasn't sure if she wanted to commit to more; but I am very glad she did. The show isn't ready to be without her, not yet.
So, imagine listening to this story without future knowledge. There is that doubt, kept bubbling for most of the story, over whether Barbara will stay on Fragrance. To begin with there's the "does she, doesn't she?" question: whether she loves Rhythm as a friend, or as something more. Ian's relief on learning the answer is palpable, and it occurs to me that their chaste love for each other - sometimes held up as a fan theory imposed on the era from the viewpoint of later years - is here acknowledged by a writer in 1964. One can only imagine what Ian would be like if, say, she had died of radiation poisoning as a result of their exposure on Skaro!
The tension (for both Ian and listener) continues as Barbara learns of the consequences for Rhythm should she leave, and everyone awaits her decision. Then - just as in Farewell, Great Macedon - the Doctor overrules her. This time it is more than just the arrogance of patriarchy, because it was held out that she actually had a choice. We are left in the uncomfortable position of feeling relief at a betrayal of trust, of being glad that Barbara had her freedom of choice taken away. It's not very flattering: we want her to stay, and are willing to sanction almost anything to keep her with us despite her own nobility. How selfish is that, compared to what she was prepared to sacrifice?
And then, kidnapped by the Doctor for the second time, she gets to watch the man who declared his love for her burn. A man she was prepared to give up everything for, not because she was in love with him but because it was the right thing to do. Now, that's hard.
A Confused Chronology, part 3: When Did They Visit Fragrance?
As a pair these audios do fit nicely into the inter-season gap, but which comes first? I can see why this is the second story in the boxset. It's very much the lesser attraction - single-episode, not one of the (now) highly-regarded historicals, never intended for broadcast. Its length also means that there's plenty of space on the disk for the extras, which should be heard after the stories. Unfortunately, this placement on the final disk means that most timelines, by default, set it chronologically after Farewell, Great Macedon. Having heard it I would say that it works better before: that way, the events here can inform Barbara's desperate need to leave before Alexander dies.
Rating:
5.5/10.
Next Time:
Very much sideways for Jim Mortimore's self-published PDA, Campaign.
Monday, 13 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1b: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance
Like Rise and Fall, this is a lyrical story that would never have worked on TV. It has the pacing and experimental nature of Who in 1964, while requiring colour and 21st century CGI to realise effectively. But then, it was never written to be made...
So far as I can tell, this is a tale like no other in Who. For one thing, love stories are few and far between - the closest in tone that I can think of being Autumn from the Circular Time audio - and surreally symbolic stories are just about equally rare. I've never come across the combination before.
Still, before I dive too much into the writing (which will be the focus for most of this review) I want to take a look at the audio production.
First, let me say how pleased I am that Carole Ann Ford is given more of a chance to use her particular talents than was the case during the previous story. It balances things up a little, and while the ideal reader here would, of course, be the much-missed Jacqueline Hill, Ford makes the most of the opportunity and impresses. William Russell holds his own as always, but for once he has the less interesting material to work with. John Dorney's Rhythm is quite different from Alexander, much younger in terms of experience; and he's joined here by Helen Goldwyn as Melody and Harmony. The extra performer, combined with a smaller cast to begin with, means that this feels closer to a full-cast production.
The music is very good - better here than in the historical, in my opinion - and although there are a couple of occasions where it's somewhat over-egged (such as when Iamb asks to look closer at the console) it does a fine job of setting the atmosphere.
On to the story, then, and I'd like to get the bad stuff out of the way. I mentioned that Russell drew the short straw for interesting material, and that's because he's narrating the parts where the Doctor is showing off his ship, and describing the workings in excruciating detail, much to Ian's concern. It's this aspect of the story that is by far the weakest: true, it sets up a pleasing contrast between the sciencey TARDIS scenes and the lyrical external ones; but unfortunately the clunky nature of the explanations just drags things down.
Explanations are going on outside, too, but in a much more artful manner. Susan echoes the audience's confusion as Melody and Harmony explain about the Fragile Yellow Arc, but - unusually - she is shown to be smart about it, grasping the concepts, turning them over in her mind and arguing with them intelligently. It's one of the better stories for the Doctor's granddaughter.
I'll also praise the characterisation of the inhabitants of Fragrance. They are alien, yet with recognisable motives. When Rhythm's mother Rhyme declares her intent to stop the travellers leaving you can feel her desperation. There's no evil behind it, just maternal love; and Rhythm's nobility in response is heart-rending. People sometimes complain about the degree to which Russell T. Davies knowingly pulls on his audience's emotional strings, but by golly he wasn't the first! This is potent stuff.
Let's see, I've mentioned Ian, Susan, the Doctor, the TARDIS and the locals. I've got a feeling that I'm missing someone, but I can't put my finger on who. Ah well, they probably weren't important to the story.
Development of a Script, Part 7: On Spec
When Moris Farhi was trying to get work at the BBC through David Whitaker, the script editor was already impressed with Farhi's writing and didn't want him to spend his time producing a sample script for nothing. Instead, Whitaker arranged a meeting with the writer and then agreed with Head of Drama Donald Wilson that they would offer to pay Farhi £50 for a single trial script. Not being privy to this discussion, Farhi decided that he would write a sample episode anyway, and did so over the four days prior to the meeting. That script was The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
Whitaker's eye for talent combined with Farhi's over-enthusiasm has made this is one of the best fifty quid the BBC spent. The corporation got a good writer on board (Farhi later wrote for Paul Temple, The Onedin Line and other BBC productions), and we got seven episodes of classic Hartnell-era Who.
Next Time:
More of the same, but this time focusing on a missing piece at the heart of the puzzle...
So far as I can tell, this is a tale like no other in Who. For one thing, love stories are few and far between - the closest in tone that I can think of being Autumn from the Circular Time audio - and surreally symbolic stories are just about equally rare. I've never come across the combination before.
Still, before I dive too much into the writing (which will be the focus for most of this review) I want to take a look at the audio production.
First, let me say how pleased I am that Carole Ann Ford is given more of a chance to use her particular talents than was the case during the previous story. It balances things up a little, and while the ideal reader here would, of course, be the much-missed Jacqueline Hill, Ford makes the most of the opportunity and impresses. William Russell holds his own as always, but for once he has the less interesting material to work with. John Dorney's Rhythm is quite different from Alexander, much younger in terms of experience; and he's joined here by Helen Goldwyn as Melody and Harmony. The extra performer, combined with a smaller cast to begin with, means that this feels closer to a full-cast production.
The music is very good - better here than in the historical, in my opinion - and although there are a couple of occasions where it's somewhat over-egged (such as when Iamb asks to look closer at the console) it does a fine job of setting the atmosphere.
On to the story, then, and I'd like to get the bad stuff out of the way. I mentioned that Russell drew the short straw for interesting material, and that's because he's narrating the parts where the Doctor is showing off his ship, and describing the workings in excruciating detail, much to Ian's concern. It's this aspect of the story that is by far the weakest: true, it sets up a pleasing contrast between the sciencey TARDIS scenes and the lyrical external ones; but unfortunately the clunky nature of the explanations just drags things down.
Explanations are going on outside, too, but in a much more artful manner. Susan echoes the audience's confusion as Melody and Harmony explain about the Fragile Yellow Arc, but - unusually - she is shown to be smart about it, grasping the concepts, turning them over in her mind and arguing with them intelligently. It's one of the better stories for the Doctor's granddaughter.
I'll also praise the characterisation of the inhabitants of Fragrance. They are alien, yet with recognisable motives. When Rhythm's mother Rhyme declares her intent to stop the travellers leaving you can feel her desperation. There's no evil behind it, just maternal love; and Rhythm's nobility in response is heart-rending. People sometimes complain about the degree to which Russell T. Davies knowingly pulls on his audience's emotional strings, but by golly he wasn't the first! This is potent stuff.
Let's see, I've mentioned Ian, Susan, the Doctor, the TARDIS and the locals. I've got a feeling that I'm missing someone, but I can't put my finger on who. Ah well, they probably weren't important to the story.
Development of a Script, Part 7: On Spec
When Moris Farhi was trying to get work at the BBC through David Whitaker, the script editor was already impressed with Farhi's writing and didn't want him to spend his time producing a sample script for nothing. Instead, Whitaker arranged a meeting with the writer and then agreed with Head of Drama Donald Wilson that they would offer to pay Farhi £50 for a single trial script. Not being privy to this discussion, Farhi decided that he would write a sample episode anyway, and did so over the four days prior to the meeting. That script was The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
Whitaker's eye for talent combined with Farhi's over-enthusiasm has made this is one of the best fifty quid the BBC spent. The corporation got a good writer on board (Farhi later wrote for Paul Temple, The Onedin Line and other BBC productions), and we got seven episodes of classic Hartnell-era Who.
Next Time:
More of the same, but this time focusing on a missing piece at the heart of the puzzle...
Friday, 10 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1a: Farewell, Great Macedon
An Expanding Universe, Part 7: The Lost Stories
As mentioned before, we fans have an insatiable appetite for Who. There are many scripts that were not made for one reason or another, and in a couple of cases there are whole missing seasons, with scripts in various states of completion from "just an idea" to "ready for submission". It seemed a natural idea to recreate the stories originally intended for Colin Baker's season 23, which had got quite far before the BBC decided to "rest" the show. For various reasons not all the stories could be made, and Big Finish decided to widen the net to include scripts submitted for season 22 - and after that, once it looked like the idea was workable, to follow on with missing stories for other Doctors. This is the first such story, in a boxset containing two.
After finishing up my episode reviews for this serial but before writing up this overview, I listened to the fourth disk of the boxset. As well as the story I will be reviewing next it had some interviews with the cast and crew, like many of the Companion Chronicles. I've already made use of the sleeve notes; I'll address some of the issues raised in the discussions here.
I found it interesting that Moris Farhi was writing during the broadcast of Marco Polo, and that he watched it to get the 'feel' right. In retrospect I can see some similarities of style - particularly with the way the educational elements are included, and the emphasis on interaction over action - but the structure of the two stories are very different, so Farhi was obviously not just cribbing!
As with John Lucarotti's first missing story, I experienced each episode twice before moving on to the next; though in the absence of a recon it was audio both times for this one. On first listen I just enjoyed the experience, leaving the note-taking to the second run-through. This was just the way it turned out for The Hanging Gardens of Babylon but since it worked well I decided to carry on. I'll be doing my note-taking run for the next story when I've finished this entry.
Something I notice in retrospect is that there are not many women in the story. Unless I'm mistaken only Roxane has a speaking role (other than Susan, Barbara and the 'Greek Chorus' at the start). I can't say that it bothered me, but it does give Carole Ann Ford a harder time in the narration.
I was not happy about the view of history expounded here, particularly in light of later developments (and specifically a novel I will be tackling about 14 instalments from now). But then I thought about unreliable narrators. What if this is what Susan has been taught? The Doctor's concerned attitude upon hearing about Alexander's death date works just as well if he is worried about being caught out in a lie.
The details of the Doctor's past don't have any such get-out clause (or at least, none I've spotted). This is probably the weakest aspect of the story for me, and I suspect David Whitaker would have excised much of it.
Apparently, the intent was for the music to match the period. It does in places, but this was, I feel, not an unqualified success.
I don't really have anything else to add. It's a great story, and congratulations to all involved with finally bringing it back to life; you have my thanks. Farewell, Farewell Great Macedon!
Published:
Date: November 2010
ISBN: 978-1-84435-452-8
Rating:
As an average 8/10, but I might be inclined to boost that by half a mark since the first episode suffered unfairly from me getting used to the style of presentation. Oh heck, why not?
8.5/10.
Next Time:
As mentioned, the second story in the set: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
As mentioned before, we fans have an insatiable appetite for Who. There are many scripts that were not made for one reason or another, and in a couple of cases there are whole missing seasons, with scripts in various states of completion from "just an idea" to "ready for submission". It seemed a natural idea to recreate the stories originally intended for Colin Baker's season 23, which had got quite far before the BBC decided to "rest" the show. For various reasons not all the stories could be made, and Big Finish decided to widen the net to include scripts submitted for season 22 - and after that, once it looked like the idea was workable, to follow on with missing stories for other Doctors. This is the first such story, in a boxset containing two.
After finishing up my episode reviews for this serial but before writing up this overview, I listened to the fourth disk of the boxset. As well as the story I will be reviewing next it had some interviews with the cast and crew, like many of the Companion Chronicles. I've already made use of the sleeve notes; I'll address some of the issues raised in the discussions here.
I found it interesting that Moris Farhi was writing during the broadcast of Marco Polo, and that he watched it to get the 'feel' right. In retrospect I can see some similarities of style - particularly with the way the educational elements are included, and the emphasis on interaction over action - but the structure of the two stories are very different, so Farhi was obviously not just cribbing!
As with John Lucarotti's first missing story, I experienced each episode twice before moving on to the next; though in the absence of a recon it was audio both times for this one. On first listen I just enjoyed the experience, leaving the note-taking to the second run-through. This was just the way it turned out for The Hanging Gardens of Babylon but since it worked well I decided to carry on. I'll be doing my note-taking run for the next story when I've finished this entry.
Something I notice in retrospect is that there are not many women in the story. Unless I'm mistaken only Roxane has a speaking role (other than Susan, Barbara and the 'Greek Chorus' at the start). I can't say that it bothered me, but it does give Carole Ann Ford a harder time in the narration.
I was not happy about the view of history expounded here, particularly in light of later developments (and specifically a novel I will be tackling about 14 instalments from now). But then I thought about unreliable narrators. What if this is what Susan has been taught? The Doctor's concerned attitude upon hearing about Alexander's death date works just as well if he is worried about being caught out in a lie.
The details of the Doctor's past don't have any such get-out clause (or at least, none I've spotted). This is probably the weakest aspect of the story for me, and I suspect David Whitaker would have excised much of it.
Apparently, the intent was for the music to match the period. It does in places, but this was, I feel, not an unqualified success.
I don't really have anything else to add. It's a great story, and congratulations to all involved with finally bringing it back to life; you have my thanks. Farewell, Farewell Great Macedon!
Published:
Date: November 2010
ISBN: 978-1-84435-452-8
Rating:
As an average 8/10, but I might be inclined to boost that by half a mark since the first episode suffered unfairly from me getting used to the style of presentation. Oh heck, why not?
8.5/10.
Next Time:
As mentioned, the second story in the set: The Fragile Yellow Arc of Fragrance.
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
The Lost Stories 2.1a, episode 6: Farewell, Great Macedon!
And so we reach the finale, which - as I'd hoped - is a sweeping tragedy: there is little action, but it's nothing less than brilliant. Not everything is perfect, of course; the music in this episode stood out as being not of the time, and there are some other details I'll come to in what is perhaps the most linear of my reviews for this story, and certainly the longest; but overall a worthy conclusion.
To begin, the fight between Ian and Seleucus is good, well-choreographed - and no doubt filmed at Ealing. Seleucus is pretty stupid to show such bad grace in defeat, and Antipater is sensible to worry about what else the big man might have revealed.
And then Alexander asks the travellers to stay a little longer - and Barbara doesn't want to. This is a tiny scene, but full of significance. It's typical that Barbara's desire to leave is overridden without discussion - some things never change - but her desperation marks the culmination of a gradual alteration in her perception of her travels. In The Aztecs she found out the hard way that history cannot be changed; and during The Reign of Terror she learned to see the ordinary people of the past as real, while still engaging in a little historical tourism with Napoleon. Now she can finally feel in her heart that famous figures are human, too. She is completely involved, with no trace of her original detachment - and she doesn't like it. She wants to run away from the death of someone she has grown to think of as a friend (a feeling that I can relate to, for reasons that you will hear a lot about if I keep going into the Fourth Doctor's time). Some might call it moral cowardice, but to me it's just human.
Pulling back the focus, we move on to Antipater's show trial. John Dorney's performance here is notable because of the way he allows Alexander to weaken gradually, and not evenly - the great man rallies when he is fired up, and slumps in the more extended, intellectual monologues. Still, the king manages to put forward quite a case against his prime suspect, and I was looking forward to Antipater's riposte. Seleucus's move to cut short the proceedings surprised me, but this is one time the reluctant conspirator made a sensible decision. With his options running out it was pretty much the only hope he had.
And that's really the end of the conspiracy. Oh, Seleucus will be one of the generals squabbling over the empire by the end of the episode, but from now on it's down to history and the travellers' part in it.
In the time since Barbara's plea to leave was ignored she has expended some effort in explaining why she wanted to go, and the differing reactions of her companions are telling. Susan argues that "history protects itself, we can no more change the past than we can the future" - which not only smacks of predestination, but also provides precious little comfort! Ian, on the other hand, doubts both the women, and dreams of a better future (or should I say a better past?) - like Barbara, because he's become involved. The Doctor's reaction is the most telling of all: we learn that he actually took the Hippocratic Oath when he was a medical student, before he became more interested in science, and that overrules his prohibition on trying to change history. In fact, Barbara and the Doctor have reversed their roles since the time of Yetaxa.
As usual, the Doctor is the one who gets to do what he wants, and as a result I found out how an iron lung works; but it is on the conversations with the dying Alexander that the focus now lies. His description of his dream of the marriage of East and West made me think of Martin Luther King - and in particular the Strawbs' song, Martin Luther King's Dream. The Doctor declares that mankind will not achieve unity for 3000 years, which is around 2,700AD - when on the verge of exterminating each other. Checking out Ahistory I think he's a couple of centuries late there, but who's gonna quibble? The point is that the king's new friends bring him down at the end; dramatically appropriate, but horrendously thoughtless. I'm not surprised that Alexander takes a leaf from Calanus's book and decides to die.
Everything from this point on is, effectively, tying things up. We get to meet Roxane at last, and in doing so I can finally banish the echo of Police front man Sting from my mind, though as a final insult to my ears Big Finish turn the volume right up on the line "You have left the world TO THE VULTURES!"; too loud, man.
Then there's a nice little scene with Alexander's faithful guard which made me say, "oh, that Ptolemy!"; a smart man, who I imagine (semi-appropriately) portrayed by Roy Stewart in a speaking role at last. And then there's the reference to the Library of Alexandria while standing in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, which is another neat touch.
But it's getting very close to the end of the story so we're off again, and our heroes decide to examine the scanner. In transit. How weird is that, and how can it possibly work? Even ignoring the technical details, I can't help but think that the well-described view of Alexander's funeral would have been a disappointment on screen. Still, 48 years on, that's an irrelevant detail; and on audio, it's a great way to go out.
Development of a Script, Part 6: Publishing the Unproduced
I love Doctor Who fans, don't you? Always keen to extract the maximum they can from the show that obsesses them. Well, that describes me, anyway, and it explains why there is a market for the script to an unmade fortysomething-year-old TV drama. The publishers of the Nothing at the End of the Lane magazine made the script available in print, along with a number of accompanying articles, here - I haven't bought it, but I have read the sample PDF and it seems very well put together. If I didn't have so much other Who stuff to buy I'd be tempted.
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
The serial as a whole.
To begin, the fight between Ian and Seleucus is good, well-choreographed - and no doubt filmed at Ealing. Seleucus is pretty stupid to show such bad grace in defeat, and Antipater is sensible to worry about what else the big man might have revealed.
And then Alexander asks the travellers to stay a little longer - and Barbara doesn't want to. This is a tiny scene, but full of significance. It's typical that Barbara's desire to leave is overridden without discussion - some things never change - but her desperation marks the culmination of a gradual alteration in her perception of her travels. In The Aztecs she found out the hard way that history cannot be changed; and during The Reign of Terror she learned to see the ordinary people of the past as real, while still engaging in a little historical tourism with Napoleon. Now she can finally feel in her heart that famous figures are human, too. She is completely involved, with no trace of her original detachment - and she doesn't like it. She wants to run away from the death of someone she has grown to think of as a friend (a feeling that I can relate to, for reasons that you will hear a lot about if I keep going into the Fourth Doctor's time). Some might call it moral cowardice, but to me it's just human.
Pulling back the focus, we move on to Antipater's show trial. John Dorney's performance here is notable because of the way he allows Alexander to weaken gradually, and not evenly - the great man rallies when he is fired up, and slumps in the more extended, intellectual monologues. Still, the king manages to put forward quite a case against his prime suspect, and I was looking forward to Antipater's riposte. Seleucus's move to cut short the proceedings surprised me, but this is one time the reluctant conspirator made a sensible decision. With his options running out it was pretty much the only hope he had.
And that's really the end of the conspiracy. Oh, Seleucus will be one of the generals squabbling over the empire by the end of the episode, but from now on it's down to history and the travellers' part in it.
In the time since Barbara's plea to leave was ignored she has expended some effort in explaining why she wanted to go, and the differing reactions of her companions are telling. Susan argues that "history protects itself, we can no more change the past than we can the future" - which not only smacks of predestination, but also provides precious little comfort! Ian, on the other hand, doubts both the women, and dreams of a better future (or should I say a better past?) - like Barbara, because he's become involved. The Doctor's reaction is the most telling of all: we learn that he actually took the Hippocratic Oath when he was a medical student, before he became more interested in science, and that overrules his prohibition on trying to change history. In fact, Barbara and the Doctor have reversed their roles since the time of Yetaxa.
As usual, the Doctor is the one who gets to do what he wants, and as a result I found out how an iron lung works; but it is on the conversations with the dying Alexander that the focus now lies. His description of his dream of the marriage of East and West made me think of Martin Luther King - and in particular the Strawbs' song, Martin Luther King's Dream. The Doctor declares that mankind will not achieve unity for 3000 years, which is around 2,700AD - when on the verge of exterminating each other. Checking out Ahistory I think he's a couple of centuries late there, but who's gonna quibble? The point is that the king's new friends bring him down at the end; dramatically appropriate, but horrendously thoughtless. I'm not surprised that Alexander takes a leaf from Calanus's book and decides to die.
Everything from this point on is, effectively, tying things up. We get to meet Roxane at last, and in doing so I can finally banish the echo of Police front man Sting from my mind, though as a final insult to my ears Big Finish turn the volume right up on the line "You have left the world TO THE VULTURES!"; too loud, man.
Then there's a nice little scene with Alexander's faithful guard which made me say, "oh, that Ptolemy!"; a smart man, who I imagine (semi-appropriately) portrayed by Roy Stewart in a speaking role at last. And then there's the reference to the Library of Alexandria while standing in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, which is another neat touch.
But it's getting very close to the end of the story so we're off again, and our heroes decide to examine the scanner. In transit. How weird is that, and how can it possibly work? Even ignoring the technical details, I can't help but think that the well-described view of Alexander's funeral would have been a disappointment on screen. Still, 48 years on, that's an irrelevant detail; and on audio, it's a great way to go out.
Development of a Script, Part 6: Publishing the Unproduced
I love Doctor Who fans, don't you? Always keen to extract the maximum they can from the show that obsesses them. Well, that describes me, anyway, and it explains why there is a market for the script to an unmade fortysomething-year-old TV drama. The publishers of the Nothing at the End of the Lane magazine made the script available in print, along with a number of accompanying articles, here - I haven't bought it, but I have read the sample PDF and it seems very well put together. If I didn't have so much other Who stuff to buy I'd be tempted.
Rating:
9/10.
Next Time:
The serial as a whole.
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