World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls

Chapter The 224th, where a servant is disguised as one of two Masters. 

Plot:

In his ongoing attempt to rehabilitate Missy, the Doctor sets up a test where she, accompanied by Bill and Nardole, answers a distress call in deep space, while the Doctor monitors from the TARDIS. They have materialised on the bridge of a 400-mile long colony ship, so vast that it contains areas within of different landscapes, including solar farms with holographic skies. It was on its maiden voyage to pick up colonists, crewed by a 50-strong skeleton staff, when it came close to a black hole. Two days prior to the TARDIS team's arrival, a team went down - in super fast inertia (magic) lifts - to the other end of the ship to turn the reverse thrusters to full power in an attempt to escape the black hole. Suddenly, there were thousands of life forms showing on the ship's sensors, even though the ship had not been boarded; mysterious cloth-faced figures arrived in the lifts to take the remaining humans from the bridge, leaving only non-human Jorj the janitor. He is so petrified of any human appearing and attracting these figures that he threatens Bill - the only human in this new party - with a gun. The Doctor leaves the TARDIS to defuse the situation, but is too late as Bill is shot, and her severely wounded body taken off in a lift by the cloth-faces. The Doctor explains that time dilation caused by the black hole means time is running much slower on the bridge than at the other end of the ship, and the life forms are descendants of the original crew who went down there.

In the time it takes the Doctor to explain this, and overpower Jorj to get to the lift, ten years have gone by for Bill. She had a new electronic heart fitted, but cannot leave the hospital as it will stop working. She is befriended by a porter / handyman Razor while she waits for the the Doctor. In the hospital are many more patients in the cloth-face masks in lots of pain. Everyone is weak and dying (whether this is due to inbreeding or engine fumes or something else is not spelled out), and the eventual plan is to operate on everyone and then leave for the higher levels, Operation Exodus. The medical procedure, though, is to convert everyone to a cyberman form, and Razor is really the Master in disguise. When the Doctor arrives, he's just too late, and Bill has been fully converted. The Master and Missy (wavering as to which side she's on) capture the Doctor to gloat at him, but he's made a change to the Cyber neural network to make the Cybermen come after Time Lords too, forcing his dual enemies to join forces with him to escape the attacking horde. With Bill in Cyber form, resisting her conditioning, they all escape in a shuttle craft piloted by Nardole, which crashes into a solar farm on level 507 of the ship.

A group of humans, including children, live on this level. The Doctor wants to help them, but the Master just wants to escape - the Master's TARDIS is on the bottom level, and even though broken, can be fixed by a spare component Missy has. The Doctor implores Missy to join him and fight, even though the odds seem stacked against them, but she starts to leave with the Master. Having second thoughts, she fatally stabs her previous self precisely enough that he'll have time to get away (and presumably then regenerate into her). The Master won't let her stand alongside the Doctor, though, and zaps her with his laser screwdriver. Meanwhile, the Doctor and Cyber-Bill fight the attacking Cybermen, leaving Nardole to escape with the others to a higher level, becoming their protector for future Cyber skirmishes. At the end of the battle, all the cybermen are destroyed but both the Doctor and Bill appear to be dying. The watery pilot version of Heather, Bill's crush, appears from the rain, having never stopped tailing Bill. She converts Bill into a similar pilot form, they drop the Doctor off in the TARDIS and go off to explore the universe together. The Doctor looks like he's going to regenerate, but holds it back, landing at the South Pole where he meets his earliest (as known at that time anyway) incarnation, who is also staving off his regeneration. To be continued at Christmas...

Context:

It's ages since I last blogged, apologies. I took a week or more after watching the last Doctor Who story - as well as going to the BFI event related to Season 22 to watch another - to write up my notes and publish the associated post, then another week after that before I had time to watch the next one chosen at random. On a Sunday in March, I sat down to watch World Enough and Time from the new series 10 Blu-ray, with all three children, boys of 15 and 12, girl of 9; I was surprised particularly that the eldest wanted to watch, but he did. They all stayed for the duration, but there wasn't time that day to watch the second half so it was almost another week before completing the story (I watched a whole classic series Doctor Who story in the gap, but that's for next time). Comments from the children included a chorus of views on how the Doctor had "Very long hair" in the pre-credits scene, the younger two laughing a lot at Matt Lucas's lines as Nardole, the eldest saying "Is that Sam Tyler?" at the Master reveal, referencing one of John Simm's most prominent roles, and the middle child wondering "Where did they get the pigs?" to make the bacon for the breakfast Razor makes in the first episode, before the presence of farms made this clear in the second.

First Time Round:

I first saw this story on its debut BBC1 broadcast in the UK on two consecutive Saturdays towards the end of June 2017. I can't remember much detail, but I know that I caught them both accompanied by definitely the Better Half and probably all the family, slightly time-shifted on the evenings of broadcast. I remember being a bit worried ahead of broadcast about the title for the first episode, as it included the word 'Time'; including that word in a title has previously been seen as a curse which will mean the story will turn out not to be much cop (see the Deeper Thoughts section of the Time Monster blog post from May 2017, a month ahead of World Enough and Time's broadcast, for more details). From other blog posts around this time (it's as close as I get to keeping a diary), I see that there was a heatwave going on in the UK around when the episodes were shown, and that - with rather unseasonal festiveness - I continued the Doctor Who fun after The Doctor Falls by watching David Tennant and Catherine Tate Christmas special The Runaway Bride with the Better Half. The 'Time' curse seemed to have lifted, as I liked the story unreservedly on this first watch; but, I have to admit the one key reaction I remember having was thinking that Peter Capaldi in the opening sequence needed a haircut (just as my children did this time round).

Reaction:

There are broadly two types of Cyberman story in the history of Doctor Who, the more action-oriented that foreground the silver giants' remorseless invulnerability, and the more horror-inflected stories that concentrate more on their emotionlessness and conversion of others. The former outnumber the latter significantly, and often a Cyber story only touches briefly on the latter themes, while most of its plot is concerned with the former (e.g. the last story covered for the blog, Attack of the Cybermen, which has some body horror moments highlighting cyber conversion, but for the most part is an actioner). The reason for this, I think (and as I outlined in a bit more detail in the Deeper Thoughts section of a Cyber story post many years ago) is that doing justice to the full horror of the Cyberman concept within a Doctor Who TV story is hard. To be truly impactful to the concept as conceived by Cybermen creators Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis, it has to be gradual. These are a group of people who bit by bit replaced every part of themselves with machinery over the years, and in doing so lost their souls. Usually, a Doctor Who story structure can't fit in the sweep of elapsed time required to show this process. It's probably easier to do such stories in other tie-in media (I've not experienced any, but have heard that the Big Finish audio Spare Parts, which also sets out to show a "Genesis of the Cybermen", is very good). Writer Steven Moffat's clever use of the time dilation caused by proximity to a black hole to allow this, makes this story - to my mind at least - the very best Doctor Who Cyberman story of the horror type.

Interestingly, the script gets the best of both worlds / times, as the second episode becomes an all-action shoot out with the Mondas monsters, who niftily - thanks to that time dilation again - change from the creepy cloth-faced versions to the more combat-friendly steel-encased models that better suit the evolving narrative. The two episodes together cover pretty much anything you'd want from a Cyberman story. The change of genre between part 1 and 2 of a series finale is reminiscent of the previous Capaldi season, where the creepy haunted castle vibes of penultimate episode Heaven Sent gave way to the space western of Hell Bent (similarly, The Doctor Falls sees our Time Lord sharp-shooter holed up in an isolated outpost, including a barn, protecting its inhabitants from attacking 'bandits' that massively outnumber the heroes); again, the episodes are directed with flair by Rachel Talalay. The presence of the Cybermen in both halves makes World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls story much more of a whole piece than that previous attempt, as does another strong subplot that runs through both parts. This is the conclusion of a running thread for the season - the rehabilitation of Missy. At the point of her final test, she needs to face up to her evil past and make a choice. It's another great script decision that her evil past is personified in the John Simm version of the Master, who's having a ball and really delivers, though Michelle Gomez matches him. It seemed screamingly obvious to me that Razor was him in disguise, though, despite good make-up and costume, but that just brought back happy memories of watching Anthony Ainley as the (often poorly) disguised Master in the 1980s. I wonder if anyone was truly fooled? This is the first time that Doctor Who on TV has featured two different incarnations of the Master working together in a story, so Moffat is innovating right up to the end...

Well, nearly the end. The biggest beef I have with this story is that it's not the swansong for Peter Capaldi that it looks to be at the outset. The flash forward in the cold open of the first episode teases the Doctor starting to regenerate, and the story involves him tying up the themes of the season, doing a big speech about his personal credo ("Why not, just at the end, just be kind?"), saying emotional goodbyes, and standing up against insurmountable odds, sacrificing himself to help others in an epic war zone. Nardole gets to be heroic, and has a love interest in the character of Hazran (nicely played by Samantha Spiro); Bill gets to go off into eternity with the character of Heather from her very first story. There's even a flashback clip montage of all the other companions and friends saying "Doctor" at the end like in Logopolis. And after that... Capaldi stays alive for another whole episode. I talked in the recent blog post for Time Flight about the delicate balancing act between material that forms the climax of a story or season (or as is the case of this moment, the climax of a Doctor's whole era) versus the material that follows. This is an example of how not to do it, as everything is said and done and wrapped up by the end of The Doctor Falls, so the following story and Capaldi's actual final episode Twice Upon a Time has nothing to do but tread water. This was forced upon Moffat reportedly, as a relatively late decision saw Chris Chibnall preferring not to introduce his new take on the show in a Christmas special, so Moffat had to dig in and create one more story. It's a shame.

The production design is superb throughout. The updated take on the very earliest Cybermen design is a tour de force, combining with script, performance and direction to take what was an imaginative but never wholly satisfactory look from 1966 and make it scary, heartbreaking (Bill as a Cyberman, shedding a single tear) and iconic. The creepy dark corridors of the hospital, populated with grotesques (the surgeon and nurse characterisations are just as 'large' as Simm's Razor), are magnificent and sinister. The second part is not as much of a visual challenge, but the finale battle scenes are suitably epic. Music and effects work also match the overall high standard. There's a couple of questionable moments of the script, but they only show up on a second or third watch. There's a lot of talk about how the patients in semi-Cyber state can't leave the hospital, but lots of them are clearly seen to do just that. Then, there's the lifts - they're a bit of a plot hole. In the first episode, they must somehow operate without being impacted by the time dilation, as otherwise the journeys up and down all the levels of the ship, would take years and either Bill or her Cyber attendants would have carked it before getting to the bottom level and the hospital. (Mind you, Bill does seem to be obeying some kind of Road Runner version of physics where she can have a massive hole blasted out of her, but not fall down until - like Wile E Coyote having rushed off a precipice - she looks down and notices.) In the second part, though, when the lifts are a potential means of escape, suddenly they're slow relative to the bottom decks again. The story also doesn't get fully resolved, with the Cybermen still having the potential to regroup and attack Nardole and his charges sometime in the future, and poor old Jorj the janitor is presumably still on the bridge wondering exactly what's going on. I like this, though; it gives it an edge to show that any victories - as the Doctor admits to Missy in his big speech - are only temporary ones. 

Connectivity: 

A brace of 45 minutes per episode two-parter stories featuring the Cybermen, one after the other. Both this story and Attack of the Cybermen focus on the Cybermen converting people (rarer than you'd think), have links back to the Cybs first appearance in the 1960s, feature time travel shenanigans, and have an actor returning to a role on the show they've played before, in both instances a male with dubious morality (Lytton, The Master).

Deeper Thoughts:

A treatise on morals as seen through the prism of Sci-fi convention appearances; TRIGGER WARNING: contains John Barrowman. One thing that World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls does not get right for me, is the level at which the decision was made to leave behind flesh in favour of metal and plastic, and leave behind emotions for logic. I've always found it most chilling to imagine that the original Mondasians willingly and individually turned themselves into Cybermen, rather than being forced as is usually depicted in the series, as indeed it is in this Capaldi two-parter where some kind of elite group is operating on the innocent populace against their will. I would love one day for this to be explored on TV, but the details established of Cyber lore leave enough wriggle room that it can be seen that Mondas as a whole made the decisions that took them down the path to losing their humanity (or Mondasianity, I suppose), and that some individuals might not have had much choice in the matter. Perhaps it is just as scary, not losing one's own way but being swept up in a collective wave of people who believe they know what's best for one. This certainly has a contemporary resonance, which Moffat spells out in the script having the Doctor say "People plus technology minus humanity: the internet, cyberspace, Cybermen" and "Always read the comments, because one day they'll be an army." The thing about any twitter pile-on is that the majority think what they're doing is right. Can any of us say that we haven't been caught up in a collective reaction against what appears to be some egregious act when we're presented with it, maybe without sufficient context, on social media? Is it best to swim against such a stream? This is a point where I feel I have to reiterate the trigger warning - I'm going to talk about this in relation to John Barrowman.

The Captain Jack actor is very unpopular with a section of fandom that regularly air their views on social media, because of some silly behaviour he exhibited when making Doctor Who and Torchwood nearly 15 years ago. I will state upfront that I'm not a particular fan of the actor or of the character - they're both perfectly fine, and have had some great moments here and there, but I would never stand in line for a selfie or an autograph. A lot of people would, though, and I think they should be allowed to do so. That's just my opinion, though no doubt some people will judge me for such a stance. The history of this is as follows. John Barrowman, no doubt trying to be more outrageous than anyone else with regard to theatrical backstage pranks, used to get his willy out occasionally and flash people during the making of Doctor Who and Torchwood. It was well known at the time (around 2005 to 2008), and talked about regularly in interviews and convention appearances. There was no attempt to hide that this was going on, and there was no indication that there was any sexual intent to these actions. It was seen by some at least as a bit of fun (in a jokey cast and crew video made towards the end of Russell T Davies's first period as Doctor Who showrunner, it is explicitly referenced, for example). Were they wrong to accept this behaviour at that time? Many now think so. A criticism often levelled is that if someone in an office job did the same thing, they'd be fired. This is an unfair equivalence, to my mind, though, as an office job doesn't routinely involve people changing into and out of costumes. A better comparison would be of a sporting team. I feel sure that even in the current day and age, if someone was playing similar pranks in a locker room, and it was making other people feel uncomfortable, they would not be fired but would be taken aside and given a quiet word re: not doing it anymore.

This is what happened with Barrowman. A complaint was made in 2008 related to Barrowman's behaviour on Torchwood, and executive producer Julie Gardner reprimanded him. It was around this time also that what Barrowman refers to as his "exuberant behaviour" was discussed on a national radio programme for BBC Radio 1, again in a jokey manner. Playing up to this, Barrowman undid his trousers, not realising that there was a webcam streaming the visuals. Nothing was caught by the cameras, and the BBC only received one complaint, but Barrowman nonetheless issued a full apology. There is anecdotal testimony that he might have gone back to his old ways on the set of the Arrow series that he filmed later, but given a reputation that was now established and that he gleefully was playing up to, and given that this was based on things said by people at convention appearances playing to the crowd, those reports might well be exaggerated. Anyway, there's no evidence that any such behaviour has happened in the last decade, and Barrowman has been in a lot of dressing rooms in that time. There's no statute of limitations on moral considerations, though. In the last year, the behaviour from 2008 and thereabouts has become known to a new generation of fans who missed it first time round. Much more controversy arose than ever had in 2008 (even when there was a risk that some could have seen it happen on a webcam stream) just at the idea that it had happened back then. O tempora, o mores!

Ironically, what seemed to bring the subject back to light was a recording shared online of a past convention appearance not including Barrowman, where someone else (who I'm not going to name, but he also played a semi-regular on Doctor Who in those early years after the relaunch) talked about Barrowman's behaviour; this person, though, was someone who'd been accused of a systematic pattern of much more serious offences alleged to happen at around the same time and beyond, and about whom an active criminal investigation was ongoing. This is probably the most important of the levels at which consideration of this behaviour is made, the legal level. I don't think anyone can or should say (without risk of libel) that Barrowman's actions were sexual harassment, as that term has a legal definition. There has never been a criminal investigation into Barrowman's actions, let alone charges brought. The public record does not register anything even being raised with the police. Another level, not really connected to legal or even moral considerations, is commercial or corporate concerns. A planned Big Finish audio starring John Barrowman was shelved in 2021 when the controversy first emerged (not even re-emerged really, as I reiterate it was not - whether one thinks it right or wrong - controversial first time round). That's a commercial decision - Big Finish are a company with a small, loyal and social media-savvy customer base; being associated with something potentially harmful to their brand would cost them disproportionately, so they probably felt they had to take that decision. ITV on the other hand have continued to employ Barrowman because they presumably feel that they can take whatever minor hit it might make to their audience.

I'm not a lawman, and I don't run a company. That leaves only considerations at the moral level for me. And morality is a personal thing, isn't it? I don't think anyone taking a stance against John Barrowman is doing it through a Christian moral lens, which would anyway instruct one to forgive another's trespasses and leave everything else to be decided between them and their maker. Not being a religious type, I only have my personal moral awareness. This leads me to one conclusion - John Barrowman doesn't owe me anything, certainly not an apology. He's never flashed me (I suspect he's never flashed anyone who's complaining about him online either). Though I understand and empathise with someone who may have had an unpleasant personal experience with similar behaviour to Barrowman's, and I appreciate how that might change their judgement, I don't think it should impact my own decision. I also empathise with those frustrated with the law's failings for victims in this area; but I get very nervous at trying to close that gap by desiring a widespread moral standard to be established that aligns with one's own views. This can start off small (like the "If you follow X, then please stop following me" messages that people tweet in the heat of emotion sometimes on social media platforms), but where does it lead? A morality-inspired like-minded group doing work they believe the authorities are neglecting is a definition of the worst kind of vigilantism, and many of the same people taking against Barrowman would no doubt recoil in horror at other groups still out there guided by a moral duty to take the law into their own hands.

When I see a chorus of cloned disapproval online, it seems pious. It reminds me of a caricature of a Victorian gentleman, getting red in the face at the moral taint of some fallen woman. But because we believe we're addressing this ire at aggressors, we think it's okay (and note, I'm including myself, nobody's immune to getting swept up in this). Are we willingly leaving behind our discernment and leaping to judgement too quickly? Barrowman was recently announced as appearing in a ComicCon in Wales (he's since pulled out, anyway, stating reasons not connected to any controversy, who knows whether true or not). My twitter feed lit up on the day of the announcement with a lot of fans expressing their anger at this decision, which is fine - they are free to do so. Some said that they would not go to an event if that person was present, and again they are free to do so. They'd be within their rights to lobby the organisers to reverse the invitation too, and enough of a stink could cause a commercial reaction. This makes me uneasy, though. If it's accepted that not everyone will come to the same moral judgements, and that the one thing John Barrowman as a professional entertainer might be said to owe someone is entertainment, then what about the people who want to see him? Shouldn't they be free to do so? What would one be protecting them from - did anyone realistically think there was a possibility of Barrowman showing anyone his penis in the International Centre in Telford? The Missy / Master subplot of World Enough and Time / The Doctor Falls is about the possibility of redemption. Could we not imagine the same possibility for someone in real life as well as in fiction?

In Summary:

It's the one Cyberman story that creates world and time enough to let the concept be properly explored. Plus, there's also the Capaldi's Doctor's last (ish) brave stand, and a subplot about two incarnations of the Master - what more could one want?

Attack of the Cybermen

Chapter The 223rd, which covers an action-heavy cyberman story, and the screening of an action-heavy Dalek story; one of each with scraps.

Plot:

The Doctor and Peri arrive in London in 1985, tracing a distress call. This has come from the mercenary Lytton, stranded on Earth after he escaped the Daleks whom he'd been working with in Shad Thames. Lytton has assembled a gang of crooks (including, unbeknownst to him, one undercover policeman) to help him break into a vault via the sewers and steal some diamonds. I'd list the gang member's names, but it's pointless as they do not impact the plot one jot, and then they get killed. The diamond job's a lie anyway, as all Lytton wants to do is make contact with some Cybermen in the sewers. Why they are down there is not explained, but it might have something to do with some complicated backstory from a 1960s Cyberman adventure with Patrick Troughton (but it doesn't matter). This is all part of their plan to travel back in time, and knock Halley's comet off course in 1986 so that it impacts the Earth. This will prevent the Cybermen's original planet Mondas from being destroyed because of a slightly complicated bit of backstory from a 1960s Cyberman adventure with William Hartnell (it similarly doesn't matter).

The Doctor and Peri and Lytton and a gang member are taken prisoner, and the Doctor is forced to pilot the TARDIS to the Cybermen's adopted planet Telos. They have suspended animation 'tombs' on Telos because of a slightly complicated bit of backstory from another 1960s Cyberman adventure with Patrick Troughton (it really doesn't matter). On Telos, a couple of rejects from the Cyber-isation process are plotting their escape from the planet. I'd give you their names, but they also do not impact the plot one iota, and then they get killed. Lytton has picked up the Doctor's sonic lance that he lost in the sewers and returns it to him. On Telos, the local populace, the Cryons, have contacted Lytton to help them defeat the Cybermen. This is interesting, because if the Cybermen succeed in changing time so that Mondas isn't destroyed, this is very good for the Cryons - it means that the Cybermen will never have invaded and massacred most of them. Still, unrealistic as it may seem, the Cryons are noble and good and self-sacrificing to the end, side-stepping the potentially interesting conflict about who should better be saved, Cryons or humans. Thank goodness that moral dichotomy was avoided or things might have got dramatic.

The Doctor is locked up with a Cryon in a cell in the Cybermen's base. Also in there is a hundredweight of a powerful explosive, because that's exactly what you'd lock up your dangerous rebels with if you were a race of beings who do everything logically, isn't it? Stick Guy Fawkes in with the dynamite - what's the worst that could happen? Well, the worst that could happen is that the Doctor gives the Cryon the sonic lance so she can ignite the explosives and blow the Cybermen up, and he escapes. Finding out that Lytton is working with the Cryons rather than the Cybs, the Doctor feels bad and tries to rescue Lytton from their clutches, but it's too late - Lytton's been turned into a Cyberman. The Doctor shoots the Cyber Controller and then dematerialises the TARDIS, escaping with Peri. The sonic lance heats up the explosive such that it destroys the base and all the other Cybermen. Peri does nothing of note in the story. Lytton picks up something. The Doctor gives that something to a Cryon. The Cryon uses it to blow stuff up. That's it. That's the plot, really - just that. Sigh. 

Context:

It was a curious and unprecedented situation; a week before the BFI screening to tie-in with the latest Doctor Who Collection Blu-ray boxset (season 22), the set still did not have a confirmed release date. Thinking that the date, even if confirmed on the day of the screening (it wasn't), could still remain weeks away, I decided to blog a Colin Baker story from that season ahead of time, to make a blog post home for my write-up of the BFI event without it having to wait around for an indeterminate while. There are very few Colin Baker stories remaining that I haven't done already, but the last one was covered a good 14 months back, so another didn't feel too soon. One of those previous ones covered was the story being shown at the screening, Revelation of the Daleks, which I blogged over five years ago. With a choice of three others from that year, I could have randomised the decision, but decided to decide this time: one of the three remaining was too long (The Two Doctors) and one was too ridiculous (Timelash), so I picked Attack of the Cybermen.

I watched the first episode from the DVD on the Sunday before the screening, and the second a few days later on a mid week evening. Leaving the gap was something of an experiment: both the younger two of my children (boy of 12, girl of 9) joined me for the first part, though their 15-year old brother wasn't interested. Would they be tempted back by episode two? As I started the episode, it seemed like a no, as I was on my own. Just as I was convinced they were starting that 'growing out of Doctor Who' thing that I'd heard was possible, the middle child came in (about halfway through) and stuck around until the end. Towards the denouement, as the Doctor was gunning down the Cyber Controller, he said "I guess the Doctor likes guns now" witheringly. I approved of this.

First Time Round:

Searching my memory in order to complete these First Time Round sections is a constant process of discovery. It's intriguing what one remembers, just as it is when one comes up blank. I first watched Attack of the Cybermen on its debut broadcast on BBC1 on the first two Saturdays of 1985 (the 5th and 11th of January that year). For the start of the previous year's run (Peter Davison's last season, starting with Warriors of the Deep), I can vividly recall sitting down to the first episode. I can see in my mind's eye the room I was in, and where exactly I was sitting, I can still feel the anticipation, and the sudden panic as the continuity announcer began their introduction, worrying that I needed to rush off to the loo for another wee. Thinking about a similar moment a whole year on from that, though, I can remember nothing specific. I was a bit older, of course, but I most certainly was not doing the 'growing out of Doctor Who' thing, as was borne out by each and every year of obsessive watching since then. Maybe I was a bit less enthusiastic because of how ropey the last story The Twin Dilemma had been, but I don't think so: I was still tuning in to the new season loyally. It's just odd what nonsense one can't shake from the brain, even though it's not that important.

Only a few months earlier, I was an older primary school pupil, and I can remember never being able to keep hold of a pen for more than a day without losing it; I got into trouble for that. I can remember our teacher Mrs Rawlings making us keep diaries for a couple of terms as a writing exercise. Just a paragraph a day underneath the date as a kind of title, obviously sharing only what we were comfortable to share with Mrs. Rawlings (so it was hardly Adrian Mole). Throughout the month of February 1984, after reading the day's entry, she would always add an extra underline to every date. I couldn't understand it, and thought it was maybe because I wasn't underlining them neatly enough, so every entry I got more and more painstaking with my ruler. But still she kept underlining the date again. At the end of the month, she took me to one side and told me off. She'd been underlining the month as I was constantly misspelling it as 'Febuary'. She made me write the word out correctly 100 times in my jotter in consequence. Now, why do I remember that, but I can't remember what I was doing or feeling when I saw the Cyber Controller, having been stabbed, spewing out green goo all over the place? The obvious answer is that those events at school provoked strong emotional responses; perhaps Attack of the Cybermen doesn't. Why should this be? Let's see... 

Reaction:

This story is the beginning of a new season, the first for the new Doctor introduced the previous year; the show has also had some changes in format and scheduling, returning to its old home of Saturday early evenings with 45-minute episodes instead of the 25 minuters that had been the norm since the show started in 1963. At the time, anyone could have been fooled by these trimmings into thinking that what they were about to watch was going to be thrillingly new. The first thing that leaps out that's strikingly different about Attack of the Cybermen, even before the beginning credits have finished, is that it is written by a woman (a rarity throughout most of the series' history, particularly in the 20th century). The problem is, it's not necessarily true. Although the story is credited on screen to Paula Moore, that person doesn't exist. Attack of the Cybermen is the only Doctor Who story where authorship is so debated, and - to this day - debateable. Paula Moore is an alias for Paula Woolsey, who was a writer friend of the script editor Eric Saward back then. Depending on who you choose to believe, Woolsey either wrote absolutely nothing and was just acting as a front for Saward, as he was prevented in his script editor role from commissioning himself as a writer, or she wrote an initial version of the script that was heavily rewritten by Saward. In either case, Saward used ideas coming from Doctor Who fan Ian Levine, who was acting as an unofficial continuity advisor to the production at the time.

A Saward / Levine argument then arose. Levine to this day believes he should have something like a (retrospective) 'Story By' credit for Attack (and a few concepts do indeed come from old Cyberman stories of which only Levine is likely to have been aware out of all the major players in this). Saward feels that, as Levine never wrote anything down related to either plot or character, just having had chats with Eric about ideas, he shouldn't have any credit. Nobody disputes, though, that Saward wrote the final scripts for the programmes that were aired. This no doubt explains why Attack is essentially just a rerun of the previous years Saward-penned Resurrection of the Daleks, which in itself was just based on the template of his story Earthshock from a couple of years before that, which spawned similar stories by other writers on Saward's watch like Warriors of the Deep, and - most successfully - The Caves of Androzani. It is Resurrection of the Daleks that it is most like, though: the same director (Matthew Robinson) has been booked to helm it, and the same composer (Malcolm Clarke) is also back, providing music in a similar style. The story again features Commander Lytton (played by Maurice Colbourne) who also featured heavily in Resurrection. Plus, in one other similarity to the previous year's Davros and Daleks story, Attack of the Cybermen's script has objective, provable and pretty sizeable flaws. Whatever you think of the final productions in either case, there are some shocking plotting issues in both. Attack is not as bad as Resurrection, which is one of my least favourite Doctor stories (see here for more on why), but that's not saying much.

When you take out the many abortive subplots, the through-line plot of Attack is quite simple. The Cybermen, from their base on the planet Telos, are planning something bad that will destroy the Earth. The locals on Telos that they've repressed want to rebel against them and foil this plot. The Doctor arrives and helps these rebels blow up the Cybermen, then leaves. That is a simple, archetypal Doctor Who plot and could very easily be presented in an understandable but thrilling manner if populated with good characters (and the characters in Attack are fine). It gets bogged down very early on, though, and thereafter keeps sinking deeper into a swamp of confusion. The story has to start in London so that Lytton can be included, but this could be handled efficiently enough - the best parts of the story are the scenes of Lytton's gang on film planning their diamond heist in motors and lock-ups. If the Doctor landed nearby and bumped into them creeping around the eerie sewers, and if they then all got captured by the Cybermen and got taken to Telos by, say, 22 minutes into the action, it would be fine; but it takes double that amount of time. The Doctor and Peri wander the streets of London for simply ages tracing the transmitter of a distress call in scenes that are just pointless 'shoe leather' and keep them from being an effective part of the action for too long.

There's no obvious explanation for what the Cybermen are doing in the sewers. The initiated can speculate that these are Cybermen from the story The Invasion, which also saw the silver brutes in this location. But even if one ignores that they're a different design, it doesn't add up: it's elsewhere shown that they have deliberately come to London as part of the Cyber Controller's plan, so they can't be left over from that particular skirmish. It would cut through all this just to establish that Lytton has contacted them offering his services, no doubt planning to double cross them later, and they've come to pick him up. The pretence of the diamond heist would still work as a lure to ensure he had back-up and muscle accompanying him. The coincidence of the Doctor also turning up is par for the course, and the Cybermen could capture him as a bonus, and force him to take them and Lytton to Telos in the TARDIS as they do in the broadcast version (but without the cheat of having them already in the TARDIS without any explanation of how they got in). This London-set section is also lengthened and confused by lots of discussion about time machines. The Cybermen stole one, and used it, but can't really operate it, and also they want the TARDIS. Why not dispense with this altogether, as it adds very little? It stems from an irresistible (at least to Ian Levine, I'm guessing) coincidence that this story's broadcast is close to 1986, the year when the first ever Cyberman story The Tenth Planet was set. So, the Cybermen have to be time travelling back to change history. This doesn't have much meaning to anyone not steeped in Who lore, though. It's also evidence of some of the curious decisions that create unforced errors. To whit: why is the story not set in 1986? That's the year when it's all going to go down, when the comet will become a threat. Why set it in 1985, with all the action still a year away from being tangible?

It would be better, I think, to forget about time travel and forget about continuity and just have an exciting story where the Cybermen threaten Earth with the deflection of Halley's comet, but are defeated. As it is, they never get round to that part, so it's only talked about (tell not show). If you have to have the time travel part, then keep it simple: have the Cybermen lay a trap for the Doctor so they can use his TARDIS as part of their plan, rather than it be a happy accident that he arrives; then, they could force him to go to 1980s London to pick up Lytton. If the time travel plot is going to be embraced, then it's unforgivable to miss an open goal as the script does by not making the Cryons even slightly tempted to allow time to be changed to save themselves. That's the most interesting hook the story could possibly have: the Doctor is usually on the side of the down-trodden masses, but this time he's caught in an ethical cross-fire, as if he does what the Cryons desire, the Earth will die. As the London section has dragged on so long, though, there wouldn't likely be time to do this plot justice in just 44 minutes. At a push, it might be possible if one dropped the subplots. This is where the story is at its most cynical, and where there's the most sadism and violence. The character Russell played by Terry Molloy, the undercover policeman embedded in Lytton's crew, looks like he'll be something of a moral centre of the piece, allying himself with the Doctor and Peri. Abruptly, though, he's killed off when his story hadn't got going. There really didn't need to be an undercover policeman in the story at all, it doesn't lead to any plot development.

Admittedly, Saward couldn't have known when he wrote the final scripts that the mighty Brian Glover would be cast as Griffiths. He did however make Griffiths a foil for Lytton and give him a lot of the best lines; upon Russell's death, he becomes the human heart at the centre of this drama, so it's perverse that Saward then abruptly kills him off too (are you seeing a pattern here?). Glover is the best thing in Attack, but Molloy is very good too, and their talents are utterly wasted. Griffiths's character had by that point got involved in a subplot to take control of the Cybermen's stolen time machine, a subplot that's run through both episodes. It starts in episode 1 with a couple of vivid (if a bit shouty) characters called Bates and Stratton - partly Cyber-ised humans where the process has gone wrong - who survive blasts and scrapes to eventually team up with Griffiths and Lytton. Eventually, all of them near the object of their quest. This is towards the end of the story, and is the culmination of many minutes of screen time. Lytton gets captured, but it's been established that the time machine can be piloted by only three people, so the others struggle on. They finally reach the door of the machine, when they all - see if you can guess - abruptly get killed off. The time machine never gets used for good or for ill, and nothing the characters of Bates, Stratton and Griffiths has done in the whole story has made an iota of difference. What's the point being made here? That life is meaningless and death comes without rhyme or reason? Why is the writer choosing to make that particular point in the TV show Doctor Who?

Whenever I look at Saward's work on the show, I always find myself asking whether he even likes Doctor Who. He certainly doesn't seem to like the Doctor. Most of his stories involve other characters griping and moaning at or about our favourite Time Lord and/or the Doctor being sidelined with the focus on a different protagonist (like Lytton or Orcini). Here he has the Doctor beating himself up at misjudging the somehow saintly Lytton (Saward's own creation). This would be dodgy anyway (Lytton has been shown in the series to be a cold-blooded killer, and doesn't do anything in Attack of the Cybermen to indicate he's helping the Cryons for any reason except money), and doesn't fit with the established narrative (they never met in Resurrection of the Daleks), but it's also never followed up on in any future story, and does not lead to any change in the Doctor's behaviour, so is ultimately meaningless. The production isn't a total loss despite all this; like Resurrection, it's very well made in all departments (except the script department). The first episode hangs together reasonably well, particularly some of the scenes of characters creeping around in the sewers and being picked off by Cybermen, and Colin Baker gives a good performance when he's not given lines to repeat three times at increasing volume ("Unstable? Unstable?! UNSTABLE??!!"). Having the TARDIS assume shapes different to a police box, only to return to its familiar form by the end, is a fun enough gimmick too.

Connectivity: 

Both Attack of the Cybermen and Tooth and Claw see the Doctor accompanied by one female companion arrive in the UK to discover an alien stranded on Earth who allies itself with a group of heavies. They both feature actors who've previously appeared in Doctor Who in different roles (Terry Molloy played Davros in Resurrection of the Daleks the year before Attack, Pauline Collins played Samantha Briggs in The Faceless Ones in the 1960s).

Deeper Thoughts:

Order of service from the perpetual instatement of Arthur Stengos: BFI Screening of Revelation of the Daleks, 5th March 2022. 'Rail replacement bus service'; four words to put fear into the heart of any UK traveller. Issues with the trains meant that it took me three hours each way to get to the venue on London's riverfront, but it was worth it for a packed programme. Now that all official Covid-19 precautions are no longer mandatory in England, the organisers were able to reinstate all the activities that had become part of these events before 2020, plus there was another innovation. Once our usual hosts Justin Johnson and Dick Fiddy had taken the stage, and Johnson had got the Dick joke out of the way early on (talking of the benefits of in-person over online interaction, he said "I'd got so bored of looking at Dick on my laptop every day"), and read a sweet message from Revelation director Graeme Harper who'd planned to be present but had an unexpected clash with work, Johnson then read out a few of the tweets people had been sending over the previous few days in anticipation of the event. One was from someone who was promising to attend wearing his 'Tasambeker socks', and when challenged the tweeter made himself known, and got up on the stage to show off said novelty hosiery. I was too far away to get a photo, but I saw a twitter-shared pic of them later; they were indeed made of a material with a repeating pattern of Jenny Tomasin as her Revelation of the Daleks character. Other tweeted comments that Johnson mentioned were of people complaining about the London-centric nature of these events. He was a bit too dismissive of these I think, but more on that later.

Johnson (L) and Fiddy (R)

The quiz was next, and had some more interesting giveaways than usual (action figures and comics as well as the usual Blu-rays and DVDs that I already own); the trouble was, I'm losing my touch. I'd forgotten that Martin Jarvis appeared in Invasion of the Dinosaurs, for example. After the screening, regular Doctor Who pub trivia session The Quiz of Rassilon was held in the BFI cocktail bar. Our party didn't take part, but one of us heard and relayed one of the questions - "Which comedian played Droxil?" - and I came up blank on that too (it's Bill Bailey). Maybe I need to hand in my scarf, as I'm no longer a true fan! Anyway, after the quiz, one of the suppliers of prizes came on stage to talk to Johnson and Fiddy. This was Gareth Kavanagh of Cutaway Comics, a Kickstarter-funded range featuring characters from the worlds of Doctor Who. Gareth started the venture during Covid-19 lockdown in the UK, approaching Doctor Who writers to write for or give permission for the use of their own creations, not owned by the BBC. Writer of Revelation Eric Saward was the first one approached, and comics featuring Lytton and Revelation character Orsini have featured in Cutaway's titles. Artists have come from the pool of experienced souls that have worked on Doctor Who Magazine over the years, and they've employed new artists too. Gareth amused everyone by saying that to a degree all these works were "Fanwank"; he also bemused me, at least, by saying that every Doctor Who story effectively acted as a pilot for a spin-off "Except maybe The Highlanders". I don't know why that particular story was singled out. The comics come with a disc containing an audio commentary from linked cast or crew. Johnson moderates some of these, and recalled humorously a particularly difficult remote recording session with Brian Blessed, who didn't know he was supposed to be talking about Doctor Who, referred to Peri throughout as "Pearl", and had to cut things short as Kenneth Branagh had come to his house for tea. 

 

Gareth Kavanagh (Centre)

Next up was the first episode of the story. Swept up in the event, I felt better disposed to it than I did when I wrote it up for the blog all those years ago (the link again is here). If one just accepts that it is a bunch of coinciding subplots, it rattles along quite enjoyably. Graeme Harper is probably most responsible for making it appear much more coherent than it really is. As ever when watching Doctor Who stories with an audience, the comedy came more to the fore. In Revelation, it's mostly intentional. The performances of the characters Vogel and Jobel delighted the audience most, and Orcini getting his leg blown off got a big laugh. The surround mix sounded great in NFT1, and I was very surprised that the Jimi Hendrix song on episode 2's soundtrack was featured in full (rights clearance has not been possible for previous home video releases). Still on the audio front, the guest interviewed on stage between the episodes was Roger Limb, the composer of the incidental music for Revelation. The previous evening, he and the still touring Radiophonic Workshop had performed in Coventry Cathedral to celebrate Delia Derbyshire Day (commemorating the talented innovator that first realised the Doctor Who theme), one of around 60 concerts done since the ex-members were brought together to perform in 2009. In a wide ranging chat, Limb talked about how he'd grown up with music, studied music, and gradually broken into the Workshop as a full time employee after years of occasional work there; this was to get away from his previous day job as a continuity announcer saying "This is BBC1" twenty times a day for many years. He had a couple of years overlapping with Delia and they were "Good buddies", going to each other's gigs. When he finally joined full-time, Delia's tape cutting and manipulation approach was fading out, and synths, guitars and multi-tracking were in the ascendant.

Fiddy (L), Roger Limb (R)

After the second and final episode, the next on stage interviewee was Chris Chapman, director of many documentaries that appear as Value Add Material on the Blu-rays, as they did on the DVDs before that. He talked mainly about his work on the season 22 box set. For every release, there's a review done of what material exists originally made for the DVDs that can be ported over to the new Blu-ray set, to see where there are gaps in coverage. It's sometimes as prosaic as a story not having a dedicated Making-Of (the case for The Two Doctors, which Chris informed us is being rectified by another director, Steve Broster). The DVD extras taken as a whole, Chris saw that there was no on-location footage, and less of Colin Baker and Nicola than expected. To resolve this, he made a documentary taking both of the two stars to each of the UK locations used in season 22. Opportunities are then found to provoke memories that might lead to interesting areas not often examined. He gave an example of this, when Colin Baker was shown a photo taken when he was on the first day of filming for Attack of the Cybermen in London - the first time he had filmed in public in costume - and was surrounded by kids, signing autographs. This brought back some new memories for the doco. Moving on to more general discussions, he mentioned the documentary on the recent Galaxy 4 discs as being a particular stand-out, creating some fun with companion actor Peter Purves, Toby Hadoke and a model Chumblie. When talking about feedback from Doctor Who fans, he commended our lovely, nice vibe compared to those tweets he reads from Countryfile fans when he goes online and checks out the programme's hashtag after one of his editions airs; apparently, it is just the same "20 people saying how shit it was" for an hour after the broadcast. It gives one hope after so many years of being a Doctor Who fan, and witnessing other Doctor Who fans' comments, to know that we might not be the worst enthusiasts out there.

Fiddy (L), Chris Chapman (R)

Next shown was a clip package from the box set. The set's trailer was first - really a magnificent short film, The Eternal Mystery by Pete McTighe featuring an older Peri played by Nicola Bryant. It looked and sounded amazing, and maybe even produced a tear or two from this nostalgic chronicler as he watched. It was followed by an extract from one of the 'In Conversation' interviews on the set; Matthew Sweet in this instance was talking to Michael Grade about his decisions to cancel / postpone Doctor Who, made when season 22 was being shown in 1985. It's an interestingly contentious choice (there were some boos from the audience), and I look forward to seeing the interview in full based on the short section shown. An excerpt from Chapman's doco was then shown, with Colin and Nicola visiting the farm where the early snowbound scenes of Revelation were filmed, catching up with the farm owner Susan Shone and director Graeme Harper. There was such warmth shown from everyone appearing on screen, that I'm betting the whole thing is going to be a feel-good masterpiece. Finally, a few clips from the Behind the Sofa edition on Timelash, with some hilarious reactions from the various Doctor Who luminaries to the performance by Paul Darrow in that story. One naughty person - you'll have to watch it to see whom - describes it as "Pure ham and eggs". All told, I'm sold (though I was already, and have my longstanding pre-order sitting there online waiting for a release date confirmation).

Nicola Bryant as Peri in The Eternal Mystery

The next and final part of the proceedings in NFT1 was the big panel interview with the stars of Revelation of the Daleks. The guests came out one by one; first, was guest actor Colin Spaull, to give him a chance to answer a few questions before Colin and Nicola inevitably became the focus for the fans watching. He said, in what Johnson thought must be a well rehearsed line, that playing the part of Lilt was "Totally tropical". Spaull had originally been cast as the mutant that appears - and gets killed - early in episode 1, but was bumped up by Harper. Later, producer John Nathan-Turner was enthusiastic about the idea of featuring Larry Olivier in the story (perhaps the distinguished veteran's "grandchildren watched it" mused Spaull). JNT offered the role of the mutant; or, in Spaull's joking way of telling it: "Would Laurence Olivier play the part of the Mutant as Colin Spaull has turned it down?". Next up on stage was Nicola Bryant. She spoke about how much she enjoyed the entire process, from sharing ideas to the finished product, of making The Eternal Mystery (Pete McTighe was in the audience and took a bow after prompting from the stage), and that Peri was "In charge of the TARDIS now". Johnson took this as a cue to say "I know someone who'd have something to say about that", and - to the loudest applause of the day - old Sixie himself, Colin Baker, came up on to the stage. He, like me, had shed a little tear at the trailer, but added "My emotion subsided when I saw Michael Grade on screen". There was a suggestion that Mister Grade could be invited to the BFI next time, with a whipping stool to sit upon.

Colin Spaull (L), Johnson (R)

Sticking with box set extras, Baker said that now he'd seen Peter Davison's more vicious reactions to other Doctor's stories in Behind The Sofa, he wouldn't be holding back so much when he came to view Peter's stories. All three actors on the panel then talked about the making of Revelation. Baker said of his and Nicola's characters: "I didn't notice at the time, but we're hardly in it!". Everyone remembered the cold of filming on location in the snow. Spaull and the other half of his Laurel and Hardy-style double act Trevor Cooper were supposed to film a scene on location, but it was abandoned because of the weather. Nicola remembered her hair being adjusted with curling tongs before a take, and a lot of it snapping off due to the temperature. Alexei Sayle played the D.J. role very flat in rehearsals, only going full throttle once in the studio. He changed a lot of lines as he went along, and Nicola just had to adjust in her scenes with him. Everyone felt that it was a significant achievement to appear in a Dalek story. Nicola's Dad, clearly somewhat of an enthusiast for the show at the time, had badgered her every week about when she was going to do a Dalek one. Spaull said it was significant to have it on his CV, and was chuffed that 28 years later he got to do a Cybermen story too ( he appeared in The Rise of the Cybermen / The Age of Steel, again working with Graeme Harper, all those years later).

(L to R) Spaull, Bryant, Johnson

During a discussion about Colin's costume, an audience cosplayer in the full technicolour outfit was asked to stand up for a round of applause. Baker asked "You didn't come on public transport dressed like that, did you?" only to find that the young man indeed had. An old man on this mode of transport had apparently said to him that he liked his coat "And then he went off, tapping his white stick"  joked Baker. Apparently, he'd then been asked by a stranger for a selfie with him in costume, as they wanted a photo with an entertainer, despite his protestations that he was no such thing. "In that moment, you were," Baker added. When asked by Johnson whether Mary Whitehouse might have had a point about the level of violence in Doctor Who, citing Tasambeker's vicious stabbing of Jobel with a syringe as an example, Baker waited a theatrical beat and then said "Nah!". He went on to add that he thought children were more tolerant of violence than adults were, mentioning Grimm's fairy tales; "Maybe one person in a million watching will turn out to be a mass murderer, but they would have anyway". (An aside: given that Colin's stories could get viewing figures up to 9 million, that still feels like too high a proportion to me!). He summed it up by saying that violence is a part of our lives that it would be wrong to ignore.

(L to R) Spaull, Bryant, Colin Baker, Johnson

Audience questions prompted coverage of Peri's costumes (she didn't like the leotard and shorts look, thought anyone sensible would have stuck to trainers rather than high heels after the first time running down corridors, and she once wore outfits made by Sheena Easton's costumier), Baker's lack of regeneration, until he did his proper finale with Big Finish on audio ("I was the longest serving Doctor after all - Sylvester was an imposter like those medieval popes"), and how things would have played out had the 1985 cancellation crisis and hiatus not taken place "We'd still be doing it now, we'd never have left" "Poor Jodi"). Once the screening ended, it wasn't the end for the hard-working panellists. Colin Baker and Nicola Bryant were signing autographs for a big queue of people for hours afterwards. As some sort of measure, I had four drinks in the BFI's Riverfront bar and lots of pleasant conversation with the various friends that regularly come to these events while they were working away. We almost had a full house, with myself, Trevor, Alan, Tim, and Dave, plus David and Chris. These last two were the very final people in that signing queue (well, full disclosure, they hung back in the bar with us drinking and joined the queue much later, as any sensible people would). The two of them asked Colin to recreate a photo pose that they had taken with him in 1989 after meeting backstage of the Doctor Who theatrical extravaganza The Ultimate Adventure. Colin duly agreed, putting his arm around Chris on his left and David on his right. It was snapped for posterity, and none of them look a day older (!).

I could never queue and interact with stars like that; it's just not something with which I'm comfortable. Even an impromptu selfie with someone - such as Frank Skinner, who was in the audience of the screening and then posed for pictures with some fans in a corridor as I passed by - is not something I do. Interestingly, as everyone's different and there's layers and layers of different feelings and behaviour about this kind of stuff, Frank Skinner was comfortable to ask Colin and Nicola to be in a photo where he was the fan (he posted it on his twitter feed a week after the screening, and had the biggest grin on his face in the picture). This is a great strength of the BFI events; a fan who finds some of these aspects a bit overwhelming can be only a few metres away and completely unaware anything is happening, unlike in, say, a comic con where queues and stars and selfies might be a bit more 'in one's face'. This strength comes I think from the historic National Film Theatre venue, and perhaps is the key reason why these events are so London-centric, as the disappointed tweeter had it. The Classic Doctor Who events are managed by the BFI's London venue rather than the BFI as a countrywide entity. Unfortunately, Classic Who is a little too niche for such a relatively small event to work in a hired venue, and it wouldn't get the levels of sponsorship to fund simulcasting the on-stage material in regional cinemas (at the moment they can only run to some comic and DVD giveaways, but maybe the day will come when technology reduces the costs of doing such simulcasts). Anyway, I'm from the South East and it still took me 3 hours to get home (and mine wasn't the longest journey of our party by a long way). It's definitely worth making a weekend of it, if you have the funds. Maybe I'll see you at the next one...

In Summary:

It's amusing that of all the stories, it's Attack of the Cybermen that people are arguing over for authorial recognition, like blind looters in The Day of the Triffids fighting over a tin of dog food.