Army of Ghosts / Doomsday

Chapter The 128th, which sees a parting of the ways and a journey's end, but not much of a day of doom. Funny that.

Plot:

The Doctor and Rose return to the Powell Estate in London, visiting Rose's mother Jackie. They find that the world is being visited regularly - to the minute, in shifts during the day - by what appear to be ghosts. The Doctor tracks a signal which is opening a breach to another dimension and letting the 'ghosts' through. Accidentally taking Jackie as well as Rose, he pilots the TARDIS to Canary Wharf Tower, which is really Torchwood One, the main base of the organisation in London. They are met by Yvonne Hartman, a ghastly corporate 'people person' boss, who runs the operation (which is like a UK nationalist version of UNIT). The skyscraper was built around a mysterious floating sphere, which has - according to the Doctor - broken through from the void, the space between dimensions, and created cracks through which the supposed ghosts are entering. This is being accelerated by Torchwood, who have been running the shifts to widen the cracks, as it is providing energy that they believe they can harness. The Doctor persuades Yvonne to stop the ghost shifts until they can work out who is really coming through, but it's too late: Torchwood has been infiltrated by Cybermen from the parallel universe where Rose's Dad is still alive. They came through the cracks early as a scouting party, and now accelerate the ghost shift to maximum.

Rose discovers Mickey in the Sphere room, just as the sphere becomes active; he has also travelled back to our universe using technology stolen from the parallel version of Torchwood. Across the world, the ghosts, who are really Cybermen, break through and take over. The sphere opens, but inside are not Cybermen but four Daleks - the Cult of Skaro, an R & D division of Daleks, who even have names. Also in the sphere is the Genesis Ark, a Time Lord artefact that's a mystery to the Doctor. There's a skirmish between Cybermen and Daleks, and in the confusion Mickey accidentally touches the Genesis Ark, which - because he has travelled in time and so has picked up residual time energy, powers up the Ark. It opens and millions of Daleks pour out - it is a Time Lord prison, bigger on the inside than the outside. Battle is joined between Daleks and Cybermen. Yvonne and Jackie are taken off by the Cybermen to be converted, but Jackie gets away and meets up with her sort-of husband Pete, who's also arrived from the other dimension.

The Doctor works out a way to reverse the ghost shift, which will pull anything that has travelled through the void back into it, and close the breach forever. But because Rose has travelled through (when they visited the parallel Earth previously), she has to make a choice which side of the breach she wants to be on: with her Mum and Dad and Mickey in the parallel Earth, or travelling with the Doctor in her usual universe. She chooses the latter, and so she and the Doctor have to hang on tight to some gravity MacGuffins, while all the Cybermen and Daleks are sucked back in (although the Cult of Skaro implement their 'Jump to the Sequel' circuit and vanish until the following series). Rose loses her grip, and is drifting back towards oblivion, but her Dad appears again (somehow knowing exactly what difficulty she'll be in and where), grabs her and zaps her back to the other side of the breach, just as it closes up. A few weeks later, the Doctor and Rose get to have a final holographic face time, but he loses the connection and disappears before he can tell her how he feels about her. A bride mysteriously appears in the TARDIS. What what WHAT?!!

Context:

This wasn't a random selection, but was a request from the eldest child to watch "the one where there's Cybermen and Daleks together". As it is his Doctor Who birth story (see below for more details), I indulged him. We watched the story one evening after school and work, accompanied by the other two children, with the Better Half poking her head round the living room door occasionally. The kids were perspicacious from the offset, following the pre-credits sequence  - an epic round up of Rose's story to date, which ends with ominous v.o. from Billie Piper about her imminent death - they had a discussion about how she clearly wasn't dead or she couldn't be speaking. I didn't want to mention Sunset Boulevard to them (and they were right in this instance, anyway).

First time round:

The Better Half was pregnant with our first child (now a boy of 13), and her due date was the same as that for the delivery of previous story Fear Her, Saturday 24th June 2006. In the end, he was a little bit late and arrived midweek. Mum and baby stayed in hospital for a few days, but on the following Saturday (1st of July), they were to come home some time in the afternoon. This period, having been through it three times now, is very dull: waiting for a few hours to be discharged, eager to get the new sprog home, and for his Mum to be able to rest in her own bed. We're neither of us football fans particularly, but it was welcome to have something to watch to pass the time, a World Cup quarter final between England and Portugal.

The match was almost over, as I remember, when we were finally given leave to drive home. As we stopped at a supermarket to get nappies on the way home, the staff's groans and cheers clued us into how the penalties were going. As we were getting settled at home, I switched on the TV and the Pet Shop Boy's song Numb was playing over a montage of sad looking footballers, as England had lost and been knocked out of the competition. Once that was done, Doctor Who started. Silly, I know, but I thought that it augured well for our new family that the first things that I heard and saw happened to be my favourite pop group and my favourite TV show. The sun was shining, it was the middle of a heatwave in the UK, and little one was reasonably settled - sleeping through Doctor Who. The following week, he napped through the finale episode too; so, the first story his Dad inflicted upon the poor wee mite was that year's Christmas special (see the First Time Round section of this blog post for photographic evidence of this).

Reaction:

I was fast-tracked down the road to being a fan. By the end of watching my first season on broadcast in 1982, I was reading the official magazine, and drawing my own Doctor Who comic strips. Like every other fan who was ever 10 years old, as I was at the time, I conceived of and drew at least one story where the Daleks and the Cybermen were brought together (either to fight or to team up). It's pretty much a rite of fan passage, and presumably has also occurred to every person who's ever had anything to do with Doctor Who production over the years. They all resisted it. Should Russell T Davies have resisted too? I can see why it was an attractive idea. Like Barry Letts and Terrance Dicks planning The Three Doctors, Davies was on the look out for a publicity hook to bring in a big audience for the series finale, and it is an easy and visual concept to sell (the Radio Times for the week of the final episode, with a cover for each metal race, was a good example of this). The thing, though, is that the story didn't need this push. It's a massively popular character's swansong - a fact that garnered Billie Piper a Radio Times cover a couple of weeks earlier. That, plus an invasion of the Cybermen, would have been enough.

What we got in the end was too much. It took me three tortuous paragraphs above to describe everything that happens in the two episodes. It's very busy, but I'm not sure a lot of it constitutes plot exactly. Items are moved around as if on a chessboard - Mickey here, Jackie there, Pete Tyler over there - all to manoeuvre Rose closer and closer to the exit; but it feels like an inevitably of the production process rather than the weight of the drama. This, despite Davies' attempts to hype things up with meaningful-sounding voice-over monologues. Show don't tell. It's a shame, because despite all of this, the first episode still manages to be an absolute cracker, with good new spins on Davies' Earth Invasion tropes (celebrity cameos, as background is filled in by channel surfing) and it builds to a wonderful, exciting climax. As soon as part two starts and the Daleks and the Cybermen are bitching at one another, all the energy leaks away. This may be a built-in design flaw, and the reason nobody had done this combo before: metal on metal grates. Both these foes need to be pitted against humans to throw their unique qualities into sharp relief. If you don't have that, you are just listening to two drone-like electronic voices squawk at one another. (Though, this is not, as Mickey describes it in the script, like Steven Hawking meets the speaking clock - the speaking clock is just an ordinary recorded human voice; a rare duff joke from Davies there, and pretty tasteless regarding Hawking too).

Without the crowbarred-in Daleks, there might have been more time to integrate the Rose departure plot elements so they flowed more naturally, and the mechanics weren't so much on show. The business with the two big levers, meaning both the Doctor and Rose are at risk of being sucked into the breach at the end, is very clumsy: we've already seen them be operated remotely, so it seems unlikely that the Doctor couldn't have thought up a better a solution to put himself and Rose out of harm's way than just holding on very tight. He also did his best beforehand to persuade Rose to leave him alone to do it - who would have manually operated the other lever, if she had? The resolution sequence, with Rose hearing the Doctor calling her from another universe underscored by Murray Gold's magnificent Doomsday theme, is great and almost worth it; but the lead up to that is somewhat disappointing. Director Graeme Harper fails to depict sufficient scale: there's a bit reveal of Torchwood's purloined swag that's supposed to be awe-inspiring, but just looks like a big, empty warehouse. The script keeps bigging up the 'war' to come - show don't tell (again) - but there is no war, just a very short battle between CGI multitudes that don't feel like a real integrated part of proceedings. Tennant too has not found his feet, and is displaying some of the annoying tics that he'd iron out towards the end of filming his first year (these episodes were filmed midway through, as part of a block that included the previous Cyber set-up story).

There is a lot to enjoy here, nonetheless. Camille Coduri has her best episode to date: some great funny lines delivered well - "If we end up on Mars, I'm gonna kill you", "I'll show you where my ankle's going" - but also the quiet and dramatic moment where she wonders about her own daughter's future untethered by any family or sense of home on Earth. Guest star Tracy Ann Oberman is good value too, playing an awful smiling corporate boss. Her presence is odd though in an episode which also contains the ghost of Eastenders' Den Watts rising from The Queen Vic's cellar, given that it was Oberman's character Chrissie Watts that famously killed him and buried him there. Nobody remarks on the resemblance.

Connectivity: 

Both this and the last story are based on concepts long anticipated by the fans (teaming up all the Doctors, the Daleks versus the Cybermen), but resisted by various production teams for a long time before they finally were put on screen. Both stories feature long-term regular chracters taking their first ever trip in the TARDIS, and both end with a significant change in direction for the overarching story of their respective eras. Additionally, Army of Ghosts / Doomsday is the first Doctor Who story broadcast after my eldest child's birth; The Three Doctors by coincidence is the first Doctor Who story broadcast after his Dad's.

Deeper Thoughts:

A cult... with an L!  At the recent BFI event I attended (see previous blog post for a full write up), I had a strange epiphany. This was before the drinking started too: during the interval, as I watched everyone filing back in to NFT1 for the second half of the days entertainment, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of well-being for my fellow humans, based on their sheer and unshakeable love for something, however silly that thing might be. I checked myself: had I ever looked down on anyone for being a fan? I didn't think so, and I was immensely relieved. I don't think I could ever cast aspersions on anyone for being obsessively fond of something. Not just because it would be throwing stones from my own very delicate glasshouse, but also because I fundamentally think it does everyone good to have a passion or two: trainspotters, soap addicts, Cliff Richard fans, campanologists, Morris Dancers - you are all wonderful, and - in the words of Homer Simpson - just because I don't care (for the same thing as you do), doesn't mean I don't understand. The interval ended, and I was distracted from this line of thought by Dalek action on the big screen, but later on when the beer was flowing like wine, the topic came back to me, with a twist. What about Nigel Farage fans? Could I extend my compassion to them?

For, what is the Brexit Party but the Nigel Farage Appreciation Society? It isn't a political party, it's a company that was set up specifically to be a vehicle for that MEP to speak to his fannish audience, which you can see in footage of every meeting and rally - they are enjoying his pronouncements just as the crowd I was in at the BFI enjoyed Jon Pertwee and the Daleks. Am I really that different from one of those people, looking up from different but similar seating to a different but similar stage? I've always thought I was, and that there was a clear difference; but, now that I looked at it in this new way, I was starting to doubt that. I can see a wide ocean of difference between myself and the people who are on stage on behalf of the Brexit Party, I believe most of these people (apart from a very few genuine but - in my opinion - crazed idealogues) are deliberately peddling lies and stoking up divisions for less than laudable reasons. But the people watching them believe they are on the level, and passionately adhere to their cause. If I were to enter into rational discussion with them, I believe most of them would listen, but none of them would change their minds. If any of them were to calmly and rationally explain to me how Doctor Who was rubbish (there's enough hard evidence they could present, for sure), I would listen too, but wouldn't change my mind either. Because I love it.

Of course, undying affection for a daft old TV programme has no risk of causing anyone else damage or hardship; the same cannot be said for the Farage crowd's favoured approaches for leaving the European Union. Knowing this, and that these minds can't be changed, only makes thing worse, though. Awareness that something's impossible doesn't help to work out what one can do about it. If it did, then I'd be doing my best to wake them all up to the thing they want that's impossible: to leave the European Union, no longer have to abide by its rules, and still be prosperous (let alone better off). Brexit, though, is no longer the main problem. Nobody can deliver on all the many promises that have been made about it, and they might not even be trying anymore. Alexander Johnson MP - someone who also inspires a similar personality cult to Farage - is now Prime Minister of the UK. Nigel Farage has been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the process of Johnson's ascension, which is troubling. The nationalist fervour lampooned in the Torchwood Institute as depicted in Army of Ghosts seems less funny now, and more like a vision of what's to come.

It's clear that both gentlemen are planning (maybe together?) to use their respective cult of followers to cement their power, and my feeling is we'll be going to the polls very soon. If we don't want another five years of the sort of policies these gentlemen espouse, then what can we do? Embrace some of that love for other tribes I was alluding to earlier. Not for Johnson or Farage's crews, I think they are too far gone, but I believe they are a minority, albeit a significant one, No, we need to share the love with everyone that stands against them. As hard as it may be, we must put aside our differences about Corbyn or Swinson or Sturgeon, and get out the vote, vote tactically, keep them out. Maybe then we can avoid our own doomsday.

In Summary:

Some things would be better without the Daleks; otherwise, it's too much of a bad thing (or two).

The Three Doctors

Chapter The 127th, where three heads prove better than none.

Plot:

A power drain affecting the Time Lord home planet coincides with some unusual emissions from a black hole that seem to be targeting the Doctor on Earth. A blobby energy thing arrives, trying to capture the Doctor but zapping away instead a professor who happened to be working in the Doctor's lab, the Doctor's car Bessie, bits of the lab furniture and the warden of a local wildlife reserve. Soon, more (and funnier) blobby creatures arrive, and surround UNIT HQ. The Time Lords - using time technology and filmed inserts - team up the current Doctor with his previous two incarnations. Between them, they work out that it's best to be zapped off to where the action is, so Doctor 3 - with Jo rushing off after him - deliberately walks into the path of the blobby energy; they both then find themselves transported to an anti-matter world within the black hole (which looks remarkably like a quarry) - the blobby stuff has somehow processed them so that matter and anti-matter can co-exist. They find various bits of the Doctor's lab, then Bessie, which allows them to drive to the only tourist attraction - Omega's palace. They pick up the professor on route (though they needn't bother - he doesn't really add anything).

Meanwhile, Doctor 2, Benton and the Brigadier are transported to the anti-matter world too, when the whole of Unit HQ is zapped there. The Brig does a recce, teaming up with the warden from the wildlife reserve (though the latter doesn't really add anything), and they witness Doctor 2 and Benton being captured, and marched off to Omega's palace too. The bemasked Omega is a pioneer of the Time Lords, and childhood hero of the Doctor(s), who ventured into the black hole to help set them all up with time travel in the early days. He's keeping his world intact only by force of will, and wants the Doctor to take his place in maintaining the world, so he can escape back to the universe of matter once more. Unfortunately, Omega's will is all that is left of him. The corrosive effect of his world has taken its toll, and under the mask there is nothing. Helped by the Brig, everyone escapes back to UNIT HQ and takes shelter in the TARDIS. Along with Doctor 1, who appears on the TARDIS monitor screen, they hatch a plan. Doctor 2's recorder had accidentally dropped into the TARDIS's force field generator before it was transported, meaning it's the only unprocessed matter in this world. They trick Omega into knocking it from its housing, and there's an almighty explosion. This frees the trapped TARDIS and lets them all go home. The Doctor says goodbye to his other selves; the Time Lords, in gratitude for their power being restored, end his exile on Earth, and give him a mended de-materialisation circuit for the TARDIS.

Context:

Even though I said I wouldn't get suckered in to buying Doctor Who all over again on another home video medium, this is becoming a ritual now. As with the first three Blu-Ray season box sets, I couldn't resist snapping this one up, pre-ordered and arriving on its day of release. As before, I have watched some of the stories on the set (Carnival of Monsters and Planet of the Daleks) for the blog already. So, I introduced a random factor by rolling a four-sided die, with 1, 2 and 3 representing the remaining stories in order, and a 4 meaning I wouldn't blog a story from the set at this time. It came up '1', so The Three Doctors it was! My youngest child (girl of 7) was super keen to watch with me. We saw the first episode mid-week after the set came out, and for the rest of that week, she was badgering me to watch the rest, but I was too busy. This shows a new enthusiasm for the show, which I haven't seen from her before. At the weekend, we were sitting down to watch episode 2, when the middle child (boy of 9) insisted that we start again; he and his brother (boy of 13) joined us, and the four of us watched thew whole thing in one go, from the top. They loved it. At the end of each episode, there was a bellowing of "Next ep!!!!". This blog post now done, I will proceed to watch the other episodes and extras from the box set slowly over the next couple of months, all the while cursing my completionist fetish. And I've paid for the privilege too. Oh well.

First-time round:

The Three Doctors was made as a celebration of Doctor Who lasting ten years on the air. Because of quirks of scheduling and season length, though, this tenth season, of which The Three Doctors was the kick-off story, started only a smidgen on from Doctor Who's ninth anniversary in November 1972, and the whole season finished before November 23rd 1973 rolled around. Even so, it must have been special at the time, as - so I've heard, this was all long before I started watching Doctor Who - it was difficult to ever see Doctor Who from previous eras back then. Affordable methods of recording the visuals of programmes were not available in the years leading up to The Three Doctors, nor quite a few years beyond. Repeats and novelisations were in their infancy, and still concentrated on stories featuring the incumbent Doctor. To get Patrick Troughton and a little (last) bit of William Hartnell back must have been a gift for longer term fans.

Around the time I did finally start watching Doctor Who, there was a similar problem for a different reason. Tom Baker's longevity in the title role meant that - although video recording and novelisations of older Doctors had come on a small bit - there was a generation of kids who had no memory of Who before Tom. To address this, the producer of the time put on a series of vintage repeats (see blog post here for more details). They played in an early evening slot on BBC2 for a few weeks leading up to the end of 1981, before Peter Davison was planned to debut in his first season in the new year. I started watching midway through the first of these, also the first ever Doctor Who story (An Unearthly Child); there was then a story each for the second and third Doctors, and later the most recent of the fourth Doctor's stories, ending with his regeneration into Davison. Before that, though, they showed the one where the first three teamed up. This time they arranged it correctly, with the first episode broadcast on the 23rd November 1981, when Doctor Who was 18 years old exactly. I, on the other hand, was only a smidgen on from my ninth anniversary, which seems apt somehow.

Reaction:

A couple of months ago, Doctor Who Magazine ran a series of twitter polls, forming overall the 'World Cup' of Jon Pertwee stories, the results of which were published in the most recent issue. I participated in each one, through group rounds, quarter finals, and so on, and at every stage the same thought was running through my head: how come so many people are voting for The Three Doctors? I mean, I know it's okay, but it's no Spearhead from Space, or Carnival of Monsters, or even The Green Death. It came second in the end, only being pipped to the top spot by Inferno. You may be reading this thinking I'm an idiot for being surprised: it after all has the first three doctors. Together. For the first time ever. In my head, though, all I saw were two strong visual images colouring my judgement: a naff coloured blob disappearing down a drain, and the mysterious, unknowable, almost mystical scientific concept of singularity represented by a pathetic wisp of studio smoke. The Three Doctors is of course much more than that, but much of what is so great about it is easy to take for granted.

In fact, what this viewing reminded me of a lot was watching The Dalek Invasion of Earth for the blog a few years back. That story was the first time Doctor Who ever did an Earth invasion plot, but because that style became so ubiquitous - to the point of becoming a template - almost immediately afterwards, it's harder to see in retrospect how big a step it was. Similarly, The Three Doctors sets up that the Doctor's old selves can pop up in his present, which becomes the standard for future anniversary years, and also creates a semi-mythological history for the Time Lords that will be a rich seam for the programme to mine in future years. It blazed a trail, for sure, but there's more to it than just pioneering spirit too. The key thing that ensures the quality of this show as well as the longevity of some of the ideas, and this is something which is also pointed out on some of the extras on the Blu-Ray, including by Steven Moffat in a interview, is the characterisation of the interactions between the Doctors. They don't get on. It may be obvious with hindsight, but it's a stroke of genius. It could easily have been decided to make their relationship much more safe and respectful, and that would have been very dull.

A lot of it comes down to the performers too. Pat Troughton, who may be the least starry of the trio of Doctors old and new collected here, is still the best actor by miles, and so is selfless in giving up a lot of the spotlight, letting Pertwee be the lead. He acts for the most part as a more comic second fiddle, but - perhaps inevitably - ends up stealing the show. He makes it look effortless too, and maybe it was - he stepped back into the role a few more times when even more years had elapsed since his tenure, and each time it was as if he'd last played the part the previous day. I'd guess, though, that the effortless feel took a lot of effort. Hartnell's Doctor is undiminished by the circumstances: very ill and having to pre-record his segments with idiot boards as he was no longer up to learning lines, he nonetheless recreates his old character as well as Troughton, and his presence still feels almost equal to the others with only a fraction of the screen time. The story as a whole lucks out here, I think. If the original plan to feature Hartnell equally in all the studio scenes had been possible, things would have got too crowded.

It's pretty crowded as it is with some later TARDIS scenes requiring a 'tight seven shot'. I don't know if it was a side effect of re-writing to allow for casting and scheduling changes (not only Hartnell's reduced role but also the non-availability of the actors that played Troughton era companion Jamie, and other UNIT regular Mike Yates, who were both intended to appear), but the show ends up with a couple of characters included in proceedings that don't really need to be there. UNIT could be called in immediately to investigate the mystery, which would remove the need for Doctor Tyler; Mr and Mrs Ollis contribute nothing apart from the unfunny tag scene at the end. If they were gone, it might be stronger - for an anniversary show - if the main team up against the antagonist were all regulars. Of those regulars, John Levene gets the biggest break, and it's probably Benton's best moments in the whole series. It's great to see Benton and the Brig finally get to see the inside of the TARDIS. Nicholas Courtney looks like he's very much enjoying playing his part for laughs; he does it very well, and it's a lot of fun, even though he's clearly not playing the same solid, efficient and open-minded character he was in previous years. I'm conflicted, to be honest: I think of the heroic Brig of the first couple of years after Lethbridge-Stewart's introduction, and I feel that's how the role should be played. But, the double take that Courtney does when he first realises the Doctor looks like Pat Troughton again is one of the best double takes ever recorded for entertainment - who am I to deprive anyone of that?

There's lots of other riches: Omega is a great villain and the scene where he removes his mask to reveal there's is literally nothing underneath is a very strong image. The sound effects and twinkly bits of score that accompany the Time Lord planet or Omega's palace are so evocative and magical. And, although it has dwelt mainly on past glories, the story still manages to propel the series in a new direction at the end, with the Doctor once again free to roam in space and time. Yes, the gell guards look crap, wobble like jelly and have blobby-blobby-blobby voices, but don't let that define the story for you: it's really very good indeed.

Connectivity: 

This story and The Tsuranga Conundrum each contain a conversation about anti-matter and matter not normally being able to co-exist without annihilating each other, but a technological solution present in both stories prevents this from happening. In both stories, the Doctor is teamed up with three regulars and lots of guest characters to save the day. And the monsters in both (the Gell Guards, the Pting) are more cute than frightening.

Deeper Thoughts:

Spiridon Mission update to Dalek Supreme: BFI Planet of the Daleks screening and Katy Manning Q&A Saturday 15th June 2019. I was never a joiner in my youth, and the idea of being part of a local group affiliated to the national Doctor Who Appreciation Society would have filled me with fear and dread. I similarly have mostly shied away from conventions and regular fan meet-ups in London pubs. So, it has been nice to attend a lot of these BFI sessions, which has given me my first real chance to attend fan gatherings.This time, I was with fan friends, oft mentioned on the blog, Trevor and Chris. David, who really wanted to come along, was double booked again, as he was for The Macra Terror in March. Next time though, he'll hopefully be able to join us (and it would have been nice for the BFI to advertise these last few a bit better and further ahead so we could plan, but they seem to be learning, with Mindwarp and a Colin and Nicola panel already announced for September).

The change from the normal order was that the presenting double act of these events, Dick Fiddy and Justin Johnson, were cast asunder. Dick did the introduction to proceedings, then shot off to another engagement, while Justin was travelling to London in time to do the later links and interview. Before he went, Dick paid tribute to Paul Condon in his intro; Paul is one of the fans of the show who've been hard-working over the years behind the scenes at events such as this, but very sadly has recently died. A warm round of applause followed for someone who I did not know, but may well have stood next to at the bar at the BFI previously. It's very very sad that he's gone at the terribly young age of 48. This follows on from Graham Strong (home recorder and therefore saviour of many 1960s episode soundtracks) being similarly commemorated after his passing the last time I was at the BFI. Longer term Doctor Who fans, including myself, are getting on a bit. It was impossible to dwell too long on this, though, as it was rapidly down to business: six episodes had to be squeezed in to a packed programme.Three episodes of the remastered Planet of the Daleks with new effects, then a brief interval, then the final three.

I have already covered Planet of the Daleks for the blog here, but there's always more to see when watching on the big screen. The most outstanding aspect of the story on this viewing was episode three. This has had its colour restored (it only existed in broadcast standard as a black and white film copy) for previous releases, but work for the Blu-Ray version has been started from scratch, as I understand it, and the quality is identical to the surrounding episodes, even on a big screen: seamless. Given the time and budget limitations, the CGI work by Rob Ritchie makes a very good alternate version. Some sequences are more effective than others - the best bits for me were use of CG models to subtly enhance sequences where the invisible Spiridons are picking up objects, removing the obvious fringing of the original CSO method used to achieve this visual. Best of all for me, though, was the cleverness and artistry of Mark Ayres' new surround sound audio mix. I got the chance later in the bar to tell him as much, like the fanboy that I am! As ever, moments of humour in the story - both intended an unintended - became obvious when watching with a large audience. The Dalek with a map on its sucker arm provoked mass hilarity, for example, though it has never stuck out to me when watching this serial so many times previously. Another source of laughs was the drippy Latep's clumsy attempts to woo Jo Grant. I'd also never noticed on a smaller screen that the Thals' rations are in fact Milky Bars without the wrappers.

The entertainment continued after the story was finished: Justin arrived on stage to start with the obligatory quiz. Without Dick to assist him as the roving microphone operator, he needed someone else: enter the irrepressible force of nature that is Katy Manning, who shot off in all directions into the audience, every one of which I feel certain was in awe of her. It meant there was less opportunity for double entendres, though Justin did manage to say "Who needs Dick when you have Katy in the house" at one point. After that, we were treated to some sneak peaks at some of the extras planned for the discs: the trailer (a wonderful rematch between some Jo and Clifford Jones and some giant maggots), then excerpts from a Matthew Sweet fronted documentary, the Behind the Sofa featurettes, and a doco of Jo and Clifford actors Katy and Stewart Bevan revisiting locations for The Green Death.

Finally, Katy got back on stage for a Q&A; this was even more the main event for many attending than the episodes (certainly Trevor, who has had a crush on Katy since she first appeared on Doctor Who). To sum up her appearance that day, I'd say she proves herself worthy of every bit of that mass affection. She is a superstar, the bright and warm centre of attention, owning the stage. She also performs, dropping into accents, leaping up and doing physical bits. When she managed to sit still for brief periods, there were quite a few anecdotes and fun comments that came out of the chat with Justin, and the subsequent audience questions. Katy described the Behind the Sofa commentary, where she sits between John Levene and Mike Yates actor Richard Franklin a being like a tennis match: having to look back and forth between the two of them, keeping both of them happy. She highlighted, as she consistently does, how Jon Pertwee was a team leader who made everyone - regular or guest - welcome; how they all laughed a lot, but got it all out of their systems in rehearsal, as there wasn't time during studio recording for mucking about. She and Jon did everything together, driving to set together, lunching together; she recounted the sad tale of walking downstairs from her flat above a shop, on the first working day after leaving Doctor Who, and expecting to see Jon there in his car to pick her up like every previous working day for the last three years... but he was of course not there.

An amusing theory put forward by Katy for Jon's expanding hair-do size over the years is that he was developing a bald spot, and the bouffant was an attempt to hide it. She recounted the oft occurring sight of walking in to Make-up to find him sitting with his hair in curlers. Roger Delgado is, of course, Katy's Master of Masters, but she has a lot of time for Missy too, and thinks there is a resemblance between Delgado and Michelle Rodriguez who plays Missy. She described the infamous budget-strapped finale of earlier Dalek serial Day of the Daleks as "three Daleks storming an old people's home". There was also a lot of nice memories about her return to the screen in the 2010 "Death of the Doctor" episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures, including being telephoned before she knew the precise details of the gig by Gary Russell who told her she couldn't tell anyone. "But what am I not telling anyone, Gary?" she asked. This was followed by a pause of the other end of the line, before he added finally: "I can't tell you." Also, she and star of the show Liz Sladen crept out of the press screening rather than watching the episodes as "Even youngsters don't look good in HD".

It was a good four hours of entertainment all in all, which was very good value. And afterwards, Trevor and I got to drink a few beers in the BFI bar and have a great chat with Chris, plus Chris's friends Dave and Tim - a trio of Behind the Scenes royalty, each having been part of the effects team of modern era Doctor Who. Looking forward to the next one immensely. 

In Summary:

The story is like Omega: a pioneering adventurer from the distant past, that may have faded a bit from memory. Unlike Omega, it was much better than it had been remembered (at least by this viewer).

The Tsuranga Conundrum

Chapter The 126th, an exciting adventure with Holby City in Space.

Plot:

The Doctor, Yaz, Ryan and Graham wake up after an accident aboard a hospital spaceship in the 67th century, travelling by auto-pilot through deep space. There are only two staff aboard - experienced medic Astos, and his nervous rookie assistant, Mabli - and no other crew. The other patients aboard are a war hero pilot, Eve Cicero, who's lying about how serious her illness is; she's accompanied by her engineer brother Durkas and her android consort Ronan. Also, there's a pregnant male Gifftan, Yoss, who's not confident about becoming a dad. A hardy little critter called a Pting breaches the ship's shields, jettisons the escape pods (including one with Astos in it), and starts to eat the hull. Ptings don't eat people, but they eat everything else and can't be stopped easily as they don't need oxygen, are too fast to catch, and too toxic to touch. The ship can't go onto manual or deviate from its planned course without activating automatic anti-hijack systems that will blow it up. Unless they can get to safety fast, or get the Pting off the ship, there won't be a ship left.

Despite still recovering from her injuries, the Doctor has to take charge. She inspires everyone to pool their resources: Eve pilots the ship on a short cut through an asteroid field using her brother's lashed-up controls, with a false signal being sent back to base thanks to the Doctor. Yaz and Ronan protect the ship's power supply from the Pting. Mabli, Graham and Ryan help deliver Yoss's baby. The Doctor realises that they've got the Pting all wrong: it isn't hostile per se, it just wants to consume all the energy the ship is radiating. She deliberately activates the anti-hijack bomb, extracts it from its housing and puts it near an airlock. The Pting is attracted by its energy, and gulps the bomb down just as it's exploding, absorbing all the energy. The Doctor ejects the momentarily sated beastie into space. The strain of piloting suffering from her previously undisclosed serious illness does for Eve. Everyone mourns her, and Yoss decides to keep his baby.

Context:

It was only recently, when the box set came out a few months ago, that I watched this story with some of the family; so, when it came up the other day randomly as the next story for the blog, I decided to watch it on my own. My original plan was to try something I'd not done before and blog a Doctor Who story while drunk. I was out one evening catching up with some friends at the pub, and when I returned everyone else had retired for the night. I popped on the Blu-ray and settled down on the sofa with a cheeky additional glass of wine and my notepad and pen. I lasted less than ten minutes before falling asleep, the wine half drunk beside me and some vague snail trails of ink on my pad in lieu of notes. I put this lethargy down to my age and the earlier quaffed beers, rather than anything to do with the story necessarily. At the weekend, I was on a trip away, so downloaded the story from the iplayer, but never got a chance to watch it (with or without booze). The following Monday, I was having a lunchtime walk round the park next to my place of work, and - as the episode was still stored on my phone - tried another new way to view. I stuck it on, stuck my headphones on, and watched it on my walk. It's probably not something I'll do again, to be honest - glancing at a tiny smartphone screen while still having to look where I'm going to avoid hitting a tree can make it hard to appreciate dramatic nuance. But, it was sort of apt: The Tsuranga Conundrum is full of scenes of characters walking briskly with purpose, just like I was.

 

First-time round:

Watched live on it's first BBC1 broadcast. This was a period where the youngest (girl of 7), wouldn't watch at all, after having got freaked out by Tzim-Sha in The Woman Who Fell to Earth. Middle child (boy of 9) also sat this one out, as he'd had a nightmare after watching Arachnids in the UK, poor thing. So, we left them watching something else downstairs, and I watched with the Better Half and eldest child (boy of 13) on a laptop in a bedroom. After having watched, we were sure that the younger two would be fine with it. A few days later, middle child caught up, really enjoying it. My daughter still wouldn't risk it, though; but, this was one of the stories from the series she caught up with later when the Blu-ray box set came out. 

Reaction:

With a little distance, and having spoken to a number of fan friends (albeit not necessarily a representative sample, but they'll have to do), the consensus on the most recent series of Doctor Who is that Jodie was great, but the stories were a bit boring. Based on the only hard data available (more on this later) The Tsuranga Conundrum would seem to be the epitome of that. It's a mid-season episode without any major audience hook (unlike, say, the following story Demons of the Punjab, which covers some less than familiar modern history, and invokes some strong emotions for one of the regular cast) - it's perhaps Doctor Who by the numbers: a runaround on a spaceship. Going in, I had fallen back on this general view, of this specific story, if not the series as a whole; but, then - even with a sub-optimal viewing experience - I was whisked along with the narrative. It looks excellent - sleek, futuristic production design - and it moves fast, keeping me engaged. And I'm sure that I felt so at the time too.

So, why did it fail to 'touch the sides' of my memory, once it was done. It might be that the featured monster is not so monstrous. In fact, from most angles, the Pting is cute; from some angles, even a bit silly. The series has done cute but nonetheless deadly creatures before on occasion, and done silly ones (usually inadvertently) more often, but they are usually still memorable. Nobody forgets the (rather cuddly) Taran Wood Beast in The Androids of Tara, for example. So, that can't be it. In general, the threat isn't very well realised or tangible in this story. This is despite the sets being some of the best ever featured in the series: it feels like a real ship being bombarded by fake attacks. It doesn't help that the gremlin in the works is CGI, but anyway things are a little too clean - not dark and explosive and desperate enough. You don't feel it. Again, though, Tsuranga isn't exactly unique in Doctor Who history for not quite visualising the action of a script effectively.

It's the characters, then? They do look like they've been taken from stock, specifically the stock of guest characters used for the BBC's two hospital-based continuing dramas, Holby City and Casualty. Each with a medical condition that echoes or complicates their emotional condition, or that parallels a drama for one of the regulars. It's textbook. The presence in the cast of Suzanne Packer, who was a regular on Casualty for 12 years, adds to the feeling. Even that's not necessarily a problem, though: those shows deliver decent plots with dramatic weight on a weekly basis, and The Tsuranga Conundrum has some good character moments, for guests and regulars alike. So, what is it it then? I think it's that everyone's just a bit too nice. Drama is conflict. You know that, everyone knows that. It's boring to even spell it out. But, though there's a bit of low-level interpersonal conflict at the start, once the Pting hits the fan, everyone works together calmly and effectively until they're safe. That might just work if the threat from without was darker and more explosive and more desperate, but it's not. So, although the story is very well made to the extent you don't even necessarily twig this as you watch, you are just seeing a plan run like clockwork without a hitch. Even the Pting is nice.

I believe I'm right in remembering (though, to warn you, I did a quick google and citation needed) that Russell T Davies wrote Midnight (where a group of characters are in a high pressure situation and turn on one another) as a reaction against his previous script Voyage of the Damned (where a group of characters are in a high pressure situation and help one another). He'd felt that the earlier story wasn't necessarily representative of how humans behave under pressure. But, even in Voyage of the Damned, there's one selfish bounder (who survives) and a terrible death toll to take the edge off the over-optimistic overtones. And it was, lest we forget, just a fluffy runaround for Christmas Day. The Tsuranga Conundrum needed a little more dirt under its fingernails, if it was ever to leave a lasting impression. For one night only, though, everything was nice. It feels churlish, in the times we're living in, to be too critical of that.

Connectivity: 

Very similar story title structure: The Something Dilemma, The Something Conundrum. Also, similar in that these titles aren't massively aligned to the content of the story to which they are attached. Is there any dilemma in The Twin Dilemma? And there isn't much of a conundrum here either - it's intended to be a race against the clock actioner, so there isn't much in the way of mystery. Both stories have also come bottom of a viewer poll - see next section for more details.

Deeper Thoughts:

Poll to Poll. Doctor Who Magazine runs an annual Season Survey, a chance for the readership to vote for their favourite of that year's stories, and other merchandise / tat. I have never voted, but I normally cast an eye over it every year: I don't always agree with the placings, but nothing much surprises me. Except this year. The results of the latest survey were published recently in DWM 539, which made me beg the question: why does everyone hate Chris Chibnall's writing so much? In the eras of the previous showrunners, their scripts - which would always include the opener and finale and probably a big tent-pole story in the middle - would get high marks, often topping the best story chart for that year. It would be an understatement to say that Chibnall's stories this year did not exactly emulate that pattern. He did at least have a co-writing credit on the poll winner, Rosa, but that story really feels like it belongs to the other credited writer Malorie Backman first and foremost. Four of his remaining six scripts take up the four bottom places of the list. This seems a little unfair to me. It feels like he's been punished - I don't know why: maybe for writing some slightly duff episodes in previous years, or for criticising 80s Who on TV feedback show Open Air back when he was an adolescent. 

The other two of his stories not languishing at the bottom of the hit parade are Resolution (at number 4 of 11, aided by the inclusion of Skaro's finest, no doubt) and The Woman Who Fell to Earth (at number 6, bolstered by a lot of novelty value, being our first glimpse of the new Doctor). I would have placed both higher. In fact, on reflection, I think that Resolution is probably number one for me, for managing - after 50+ years - to do something original with the Daleks. Then Rosa, then Kerblam! (second in the poll), then It Takes You Away, in all it's insane majesty (5th in the poll), then Woman / Earth. I'm making space at the top by bumping down Demons of the Punjab (which came third in the survey). It's not that I didn't enjoy it, and - please believe me - it's not because of any Little Englander 'how dare they criticise my Empire' bollocks (you'd think this wouldn't need to be said, but some people were spouting such rubbish online after it aired). No, it's because it was pointed out to me that my hero and her friends are passive bystanders in the plot: they don't influence proceedings one jot. Once you've seen that, you can't unsee it. In fact, I'd probably put Arachnids in the UK in 6th place and Demons 7th. I know, I know - I'm putting a monster mash with a little cocking of the snook at Trump over a beautiful and heart-rending tale of a family torn apart by history. Relative positioning is hard, but I can't lie about what I like.

I realise that despite coming to praise and not to bury, I still have three of Chibnall's stories in my bottom four. It's hard, he wrote so many, and inspired the other writers to do very well with their single scripts. I'd still bump up one a few places, though. The Tsuranga Conudrum came bottom of this year's poll. This really doesn't sit well with me. It has it's flaws, as I've laid out above, but it doesn't feel like it deserves the wooden spoon. There's too many nasty people thriving for me to demote something where everyone in it is nice. I'd put it at number 9, one below The Ghost Monument. That leaves The Witchfinders and The Battle of Thingummy Whatsit in joint last place. Now I feel bad about that, because they both had their moments. Perhaps this is why I never bother to enter this survey, year on year - it's just too hard.

In Summary:

Everyone's nice! Just this once, Rose, everyone's nice!!!!

The Twin Dilemma

Chapter The 125th, where giant slugs should be taken with a pinch of salt.

Plot:

An exiled Time Lord and former mentor of the Doctor (yes, another one, but not premiership material, a few divisions down) is the friendly dictator of bucolic planet Jaconda, which becomes overrun by giant slugs. These slugs are a legendary Jacondan menace that was thought dead many years ago, but turned out just to be dormant. In no time at all, the leader of the slugs Mestor has used mental powers to enslave the populace, and has stripped the planet of all its vegetation. The Time Lord, Azmael, thinking he's fulfilling a scheme to create new food sources by bringing other planets near to Jaconda, kidnaps two twin maths prodigies as he needs their unique skills in arranging blocky graphics on a BBC Micro (which will help somehow). The kidnap attracts the space police, who dispatch a patrol led by Lieutenant Hugo Lang, but Mestor uses his mental powers to destroy the police ships. Meanwhile, the newly regenerated Doctor has gone nuts, shouted a lot and tried to strangle Peri. During his mania, the Doctor lands on an asteroid, Titan 3, during the aftermath of Mestor's attack, rescues Lang, and discovers Azmael's abduction of the twins. He, Peri and Lang follow to Jaconda, where the Doctor works out that Mestor's true plan is to blow up Jaconda's sun, causing an explosion that will scatter heat-activated slug eggs throughout the universe. The Doctor and Azmael confront Mestor, and defeat him, but at the cost of Azmael's life. The Doctor hasn't really returned to normal, and still seems a bit nuts at the end.

Context:

Watched from the DVD with all the kids (boys of 13 and 9, girl of 7) over a few days. The Better Half sat down with us for the odd stretch here and there, but it annoyed her too much for her to bear it for long. Sample comments: "They're playing space chess", "Why can't they act? Did they just drag someone in off the street to play it?", "He's rubbish", "Don't put one of the Doctor's stupid jackets on!", "He's clearly acting" "Not very good acting, though". And everyone chorused "Noooo, Peri" together and thought it was the most hilarious thing to do in the world.

First-time round:

This isn't one I'm likely to forget. By March 1984, when The Twin Dilemma was shown as the final story of that year's season, I had become the producer of Doctor Who. Well, no, not really, but that's what kids at my school seemed to think. Since falling for Doctor Who big time two and a half years before, I had been seen reading Doctor Who Magazine during break, sketching Target novelisation covers in art lessons, and was in general known to be the school Doctor Who fan. I would be asked questions by the curious about my favourite programme. "When's Doctor Who back on, Pezzer?", for example. I would do my best to answer, because - as you'd likely anticipate, if you were around in those days - being the fount of all Who knowledge was an irresistibly pleasant thing to be. Everyone liked Doctor Who, and it gave me an 'expert authority' which - for a nerdy but not massively academic or sporty fellow, who was never going to be trusted to be a prefect - was the only authority I was ever likely to have.

There was a tendency in my young peers to believe that I in some way had ownership or control of Doctor Who, as well as knowledge of it. But that seemed harmless enough. If you hadn't, like I had, analysed every page of Doctor Who Magazine, and Look-In before that, and the TV and Radio Times whenever you could get your hands on them, and every interview with an actor or visual effects artist on Saturday morning kids' TV, you possibly didn't even know that TV shows had producers. Maybe some kids did believe that the shows on the idiot box sprung fully-formed from the minds of the fans at home. Anyway, Peter Davison, who in his own way was every bit as popular in the playground as his predecessor Tom Baker, bowed out; a scant few days later, Colin Baker's first episode was broadcast. I watched it go out live on BBC1, and... I didn't like it that much. It was a bit rubbish. Despite my heavy investment in the programme, this didn't seem too big a deal that evening. I suppose I had faith that any duff episode would be followed up by a better one soon. I didn't even worry too much about whether the new guy was up to scratch or not; I'd become a fan watching a series of repeats: five stories on the trot which each had different Doctors in them; even if I didn't like the lead actor, I knew this wasn't the end of days. The kids at school the next day, though, did not share my laid back attitude.

Don't ever fall for the line, which I've heard expressed in the past, that The Twin Dilemma's bad rep is a product of hindsight, whereas at the time it wasn't so badly received by the kids watching. It was hated instantly, at least at my school. This wasn't some group of jaded sixth formers, either - I was 11 at the time, and everyone else was around that age or younger. No matter what age, nobody liked the story, nobody liked the performance of the lead, nobody liked the costume. They were angry. I know this, because I saw it. After all, what outlet did these schoolchildren have for their disappointment? To whom could they complain? It wasn't like there was any convenient authority of the show anywhere nearby, was there? Oh. So, they took out their ire on me (this is no exaggeration - there was more than one threat of physical violence thrown my way). I had taken the reflected praise for two and a half years, so I had no choice but to soak up the - less reflected, pretty direct - outrage. It is likely the reason I never was tempted to go into politics.

Such was the general disgust with the story as it played out over the next few days that this heated debate found its way into the classroom. Our teacher of the time, Mrs. Rawlings - like any good teacher would - turned it into a lesson, where each member of the class designed our own replacement for the hated eyesore costume of the Doctor's. Mine was, if anything, worse than the creation debuted in The Twin Dilemma, and that was likely the reason I never was tempted to go into fashion design. The story and the season finished, and by the time Colin Baker was back on screens in 1985, I was at secondary school where hardly anybody knew and nobody cared that I was once a Doctor Who oracle. All things must pass. Doctor Who's standing, though, was more significantly damaged than mine, and it took much longer to recover.

Reaction:

If you have a significant birthday party, there's probably two ways it can go: maudlin introspection at one extreme, or if it's a huge, fun one and all goes swimmingly, you'll feel invincible. Either way, you might have conversations during that party with people - after the nth cocktail, or glass of champagne, or beer - about any number of ways you're going to take on the world in the days to come. Once the party's over, though, only the misguided would follow through on those drunken ideas. Colin Baker's casting as Doctor Who happened during the 20th anniversary year - he was featured in the Radio Times 20th anniversary Doctor Who special when Davison still had a TV special and whole series left to air - and the decisions about how he would play it, and the arc of how his performance would develop over time, show tell-tale signs of having been made in such a giddy celebratory atmosphere. The show had lasted 20 years, and there was no reason to think it wouldn't last 20 more, so it might have fleetingly seemed like a good idea to dress the Doctor in something deliberately bad, or have him act in such a horribly nasty way in his first episode, because time could be taken in gradually softening him over several years. Nobody woke up out of this intoxication fast enough, though, and the hangover pretty much did for Colin Baker in the role.

With a misconceived long-term plan for the lead character, it would be very hard for any individual story, particularly the first one, to be well written and made to the extent required not to be fatally damaged. Not impossible, but very very hard. The Twin Dilemma doesn't even try - everything is wrong. It is an indelible film and video record of bad choice following hard upon bad choice. It would be churlish to list them all here, obviously. Obviously. So, colour me churlish. Talking of colour, let's start with the look of the story: it's late in the season, so the budget's lower as the money's running out. To make the very brightly colourful design of the Doctor's costume work with its surroundings means turning up the saturation levels for all the other costumes, sets and props. Cheap but very brightly coloured = tacky, but this isn't just any old tacky - this is so tacky as to be damaging. One example that epitomises this is when Kevin McNally dispenses with his already garish uniform and dons a rainbow glitter tinfoil dressing-gown, which makes him look exactly like the opposite of a hardened space detective.

The performances are almost all off - either rubbish, or fatally undermined by some other aspect of the piece. The regulars are given deliberately unlikeable stuff to say (this goes for Peri too), and the script goes out of its way to point this out multiple times. The twins are wooden and one-note, and unlikeable too (within a few seconds of being on screen they've been given dialogue explicitly to make them look rude, entitled, ungrateful and superior). Maurice Denham as Azmael is okay, but he's hamstrung by a character who doesn't have any plausible motivation - is he a good guy, is he a bad guy, or is he both and switching between the two several times in a single scene? Edwin Richfield might be doing good work, but you can't hear him in his muffled immobile monster outfit. Helen Blatch only has about four lines and fails to deliver any of them convincingly. Her reading of an infamous line about an unpalatable order from her superiors "And may my bones rot for obeying it" is deservedly held to be one of the worst single moments in the history of Who. Is this the fault of the actor though, or of the aimless, plodding direction? It's very talky - all tell and no show. The dialogue is almost without exception clunky, overblown, preposterous, but with an unpleasant edge that stops it from ever becoming the fun, kitsch kind of OTT.

The story is illogical: how are the twins so important that the police are aware of them? But, if they are, why did their father leave them alone to get kidnapped? How exactly can their mathematical skills impact the universe? How are their skills more advanced than Mestor's pet Time Lord on Jaconda - couldn't Azmael have worked out the power equations himself? If Mestor has the ability to control people's minds, how did he use those powers to destroy all of Lang's command's ships? Why do this? It would have attracted less attention just to hypnotise them into thinking they'd lost the ship that the kidnapped twins were aboard, and that's got to be possible for someone who can keep the minds of a whole planet enslaved, hasn't it? Would bringing smaller celestial objects into orbit round a planet really make that orbit decay? If it did, and the planets fell into the sun, would that really cause the sun to explode? However hard they were, would the slug eggs really survive an exploding sun? Isn't this a risky way of distributing them? Mestor has at least one ship capable of warp drive and he can control people's minds - why doesn't he just transport the eggs around the galaxy in a freighter? Gotta be less expensive.

Is it all bad? It's hard to find many positives, but there are a few. The idea of centring the story round a pair of identical twins is at least an original and interesting visual idea, even if it isn't delivered very well; Kevin McNally is good, the Titan 3 location scenes are well staged - it really looks like a crash site - and Malcolm Clarke's incidental music is great (if you ignore the pictures it accompanies).

Connectivity: 

Both stories highlight the negative consequences of leaving children home alone of an evening. Also, it's two post-regeneration stories on the trot: so, both introduce a new Doctor, both have new title sequences, and both share all the standard tropes of such a story (which had established themselves by the time of The Twin Dilemma): the Doctor is finding out his new personality and is a bit scatty, he has a scene where he dons his new outfit, he tries to murder his companion... you know, the usual!

Deeper Thoughts:

The first rule of showbusiness. My day job is not necessarily the most interesting one, and it hardly ever has resonance when talking about Doctor Who; but, just this once, to allow me to continue to pick at the scab that is The Twin Dilemma, it might be pertinent to discuss it a little. My entire career (with a little bit of screenwriting on the side) has been in software development and operations, mostly on web-based products, mostly for large companies. In the time I've been working, there's been a slow evolution of how such products are built and delivered, which mirrored similar changes in manufacturing in earlier decades. In the old days, everything was "waterfall". Someone would have an idea about something they wanted to build, systems analysts would work up what it should do exactly, architects and designers would then draw lots of diagrams about how it should be designed. Next, software developers would write the code. Then, testers would test it. Finally, it would go live to customers. Each stage would flow to the next, sort of like a waterfall, hence the name.

As may be obvious, this would take ages. Software projects would often take many years to deliver, by which time the person who championed the project would have moved on to other things. More importantly, the world would have moved on too, and whatever problem the original idea was meant to fix would have mutated, and the software would no longer be fit for purpose. Nobody does it this way anymore (even the UK government seem to have woken up to this finally, but if you were wondering what the story behind any number of "Government software project over budget by millions and doesn't work properly" headlines was, it was probably this). Nowadays, instead of 'waterfall', software development is 'agile' or 'iterative'. Which means that instead of building a big thing over many years, you build a little bit of it (going through all those phases of analysis, design, build, test, and often even going live to customers) in a shorter time (say, two weeks). Yes, it's going to be a bit basic and small at that point, but it should work to do some tiny thing. Then, you start again, building another little bit in two weeks, and as the weeks go by, more and more builds up. Why? Because every two weeks, you can change direction if the prevailing winds have changed. You only carry the risk of being out of date for two weeks maximum. It's best to find out sooner rather than later if you're making something rubbish. This brings me back to The Twin Dilemma.

Why is this story so disliked, coming bottom of every poll? There are many other terrible stories I've covered for the blog - my personal low points up to now have been The Time Monster, The Armageddon Factor, The Rings of Akhaten, Twice Upon a Time, Resurrection of the Daleks, Sleep No More - but these are never as consistently lambasted as is Colin Baker's debut story. My theory is that this is because most of what's very wrong about The Twin Dilemma is not accidental. The script regularly comments on its worst excesses. At one point, the Doctor cannot understand Peri's lingering compassion for him and says: "I have spent the day using, abusing, even trying to kill you". So, the character - as well as the writer, script editor and producer - knows he's being a git. Then, to this awareness they add a tacit admission that, even when he's calm and lucid, he still wouldn't mind if Peri was dead: "If you'd have behaved as I have, I should have been pleased at your demise." Ugh. The people who made this programme wanted it this way.

Despite dramatic art taking a long time to produce, the agile or iterative way of working is not so incompatible. Theatre shows are often previewed, tinkered with and re-previewed before the full opening night, for example. Even the sort of rehearsal that 20th Century Doctor Who did - running through the action over and over, amending blocking and script bits that don't work before the studio is booked and the cameras are rolling and money's being burnt - has echoes of it. Ultimately, one of the key tenets of showbusiness, that you're only as good as your last hit, highlights the importance of a flexible approach. The long-term plan for Colin Baker's characterisation as the Doctor was based on the false premise that they could take as long as they wanted to play out the arc of his gradual 'humanisation'. Colin Baker often joked in interviews about wanting to match the other Mister Baker's seven year tenure playing the role. The star, the producer and the script editor had conceived between them a waterfall project, thinking they could take as long as they liked to finish it. So, it made sense for them to start from such an extreme point: the Doctor strangling the audience's identification figure. He may as well have been choking the life out of the fans watching at home.

Doctor Who was being made episodically, so there would regularly have been the opportunity to change tack, but everyone involved must have thought they were on the right lines. I can't imagine that none of the schoolroom criticisms I heard were echoed in the feedback that got through to the production office, but the next season doubles-down on the unlikeable Doctor approach (though at least he never strangled anyone again, just gassed them or pushed them into an acid bath). The waterfall project might have carried on like this for many more years, but - as will happen - something in the wider world changed, and the waterfall crashed down onto the rocks that were Michael Grade and Jonathan Powell.

In Summary:

Yes, it probably is the worst, but it's still not all bad, and the show survived it - this demonstrates just how good Doctor Who is, as a whole.