survival, despite being over-shadowed by some of its season 26 neighbours, is remarkable in many ways. Rona Munro's story is a complex tale, unusual in its tone, and full of unexpected juxtapositions. We see a grandiose, debonair Master plotting first in a dark, fur-lined hut and later in a grotty, mundane high rise flat - his civilised (albeit evil) nature disintegrating in the face of chaos; Perivale, oddly disconcerting in its somnambulant suburban dullness, and the hot, dusty planet of the Cheetah People.

Perhaps the most refreshing contrast, in a story exploring diverse themes and deepening the characterisation of the regulars, is the streak of humour in the script and performances. Although predominately in episode one, the light, naturalistic touch of the comedy resonates through the story, giving a realistic sheen to the tragedy and drama. The Doctor's cat-baiting, while flatly ignoring Ace, is wonderful, as is his shooing off of the lady whose garden he uses as a hiding place; and Hale and Pace, in retrospect, are suitably funny in the context.

Humour aside, Survival is a powerful story about, appropriately, surviving, and surviving in such a way that you don't harm others, or yourself, by losing your humanity. Even the Hale and Pace sequence, with the joke about the two friends and the lion, highlights the dilemma - can the animal instinct within us sit comfortably alongside our human urge (our human need) to help others, to stick by our friends? It could be viewed as a critique of Thatcher's Britain, Midge in episode three, a caricature of the 'successful' individual; the fittest has survived. But it doesn't require a socio-political reading - Survival is effective, thematically, on a more universal level, and the themes serve to make Ace an even more nuanced character than she already, at this point, is.

Just as in Remembrance of the Daleks, Ghostlight, and The Curse of Fenric, the Ace we meet is an immensely strong-willed individual - a survivor. It is inevitable that she (the companion who has always wanted to be 'free' in many senses) falls in love with the experience of running wild. But the presence of the Doctor controls her, keeping her selfish will to survive in check. A classic moment in Survival, easily missed, is the a split-second look on Ace's face - when the Doctor retrieves his hat - that speaks multitudes about the faith Ace has in the Doctor, no matter what happens. And in return, the Doctor has immense faith in her - her wild, aggressiveness will always be there, but while travelling in the TARDIS she is part of a team.

It doesn’t all work. The bike-duel; the scene where Karra and Ace run, in slow motion, across the open plain; and the cats – furry soft-toys or peculiar mechanical moggies – that were never going to convince. But the cast take it in their stride, each character believable and interesting. There are only very, very rare instances of truly bad acting – and the excellent final confrontation, with McCoy screaming out the pained, anguished cry of a century-weary Time Lord, isn’t one of them. Even Anthony Ainley brings a measured reverence to the Master in this atypical appearance. There is no hint of world-domination or crude, hammy megalomania here, it is purely a portrayal of the man, the Doctor’s enemy, who wants to survive.

Survival has both style and substance. It is thematically rich, but comes together, as a cogent, three-part serial, because it has eerie atmosphere, oddly believable. The decision to put the Cheetah People on horse-back; the care taken to make the planet look truly alien; the music – all things that mark Survival out as something worth watching, and something you wouldn’t worry about showing to your friends. And now we know Doctor Who is coming back, the final voice-over is all the more poignant.

I am always slightly perplexed as to why this story is so widely disregarded in fan circles. Interestingly I have always found it an engagining opening to the seventh Doctor`s era. As a fan knowing all the background to all the turbulent times the series was going through by then it is always slightly spoilt. Colin Baker should have been around for another few years but was suddenly removed. Sylvester McCoy was thrown very much in at the deep end of things,but oddly enough that shows later on this season rather than in this debut romp.

To me this has always seemed a very typical piece of Doctor Who. It is a very watchable escape from reality with some very tight plotting each episode ( I cant fault Pip and Jane Bakers work in all honesty apart from some extreme dialogue that NOBODY could possibly say in an average (even in Doctor Who terms) conversation!) Visually it is very impressive with the best use of O.B filming I have seen in the series and The Rani`s bubble traps are a joy. The nature of the story the Bakers had in mind would have been better servd with a more gothic feel to The Rani`s headquaters-but that is only a small gripe as the scenes in the Tetraps lair and The Rani`s secret chamber are very atmospheric. 

One of the biggest missed opportunities after this story was we had no real rematch between The Doctor and The Rani. I adored Kate O`Mara in the her debut Rani adventure in season 22 and although by 1987 the actress was working on American super soap Dynasty she was more than happy to make this return. Her subsequent support and enthusiasm for her time with Doctor Who always made this fan happy as she is one of the UK`s best actors and such an endorsement of the series is wonderful. However in spite of my pleasure in Pip and Jane`s scripts imagine if Kate had gotten a script by say Robert Holmes? Hopefully the Big Finish audios may give her a chance one day to work on something with another writer,if P&J will allow it?? ) Anyway..her rapport with Sylvester`s instantly adorable Season 24 Doctor are a delight. A good proportion of the script is purely Sylvester and Kate and it works very well on the screen. The impersonation of Mel scenes are witty and well done (although should not have been carried over virtually 2 full episodes). The final part is very action packed with plenty of good visuals and high (camp) drama. It sees Rani cleverly achieving her aim but being thwarted by the newly regenerated Doctor,who quickly turns The Rani`s handiwork back on herself. A very well constructed story.

Bonnie Langford gets plenty to do as Mel (always well served by the Bakers scripts). She is over the top at times-but that is the nature of the entire piece. Mel works better with the Seventh Doctor and her scenes with Sylvester are well executed. The rest of the cast is small and do well , Mark Greenstreet and Donald Pickering are solid (if a little bewildered) , Wanda Ventham is very effective and restrained as Faroon (in particular when she stumbles across the remains of her daughter,killed by The Rani`s bubble traps) and Richard Gauntlett is deliciously malicious as the bat like Tetrap, Urak,who is obedient to his mistress Rani but far more astute and wise to The Rani`s ultimate objectives than he lets on.

Direction from Andrew Morgan is fast paced and ambitious. The incidentals are fresh and vibrant from Keff McCulloch (far better than some of the awful and cheap sounding incidentals McCulloch put together in later McCoy stories) and the new Seventh Doctor title sequence is impressive (never been sure of the logo though??!)

This is not the lemon some like to say it is. Catch up with it again soon and you will be pleasantly surprised. If nothing else enjoy McCoy and O`Mara in this admittedly lightweight piece that still retains all the wonderful ingredients of Doctor Who. Good Fun. Good Doctor Who.

Is there anything good that one can say about the seventh Doctor's debut season on television? After the excellent Colin Baker's performance the show took a decided nose dive for the worse. Reasons why I hated it, in no particular order, are:

1/ That music! That godawful incidental music that they used! It is useless to describe this music in written words but anyone who saw these episodes on television will doubtless remember it. It was so bad! If it had just been used in Time and the Rani, but every story from then on had the same cringe-inducing din.

2/ There were now only four stories per season, and most of these only ran to three episodes.

3/ Those guest actors! Only Sylvester McCoy would be pathetically proud to have Richard O'Brien and Ken Dodd on Dr Who. This is supposed to be a serious sci-fi show not a pantomime performance, and these actors were totally inappropriate.

4/ The Doctor's initial persona was a bit wet and wishy-washy. I understand that in later seasons the Seventh Doctor becomes a darker, more mysterious character, but alas! His debut season was enough to put me off for life.

But back to Time and the Rani. It wasn't all bad; I particularly liked the Seventh Doctor floundering around in the too big costume of the Sixth Doctor at the beginning. A nice bit of continuity there. And I (at first) liked him being so different. As Mel says, his hair...size...voice...face...everything was just so totally different about this new Doctor's appearance. The Rani was nicely evil, but could she really be that much of a threat to the pacifist Lakertyns? The dreadful music...oh, I've already mentioned that.

I'm trying to think of a good way to close this...ah! Pip and Jane Baker's scripts are always a joy, even in a dreadful story the characters have such good throwaway lines. There!

Ghost Light has always been one of those Doctor Who stories that you wouldn't be ashamed to show your friends. It has a certain respectability: atmospheric, well-acted, ironic, compelling. Good TV, plain and simple. Looking at it now, in 2003, I can't find any reason to change my opinion. There's the odd flaw, often related to haste or lack of time (as when a piece of dialogue is spoilt by an obtrusively abrupt cut in the the Reverend Ernest Matthews introductory scene). But this sort of tiny technical flaw is part of what makes Who so endearing; it's not enough to spoil an excellent story.

The plot itself is, as is often noted, a little opaque. One reason for this is that much of the dialogue (in the first two episodes at least) doesn't actually provide a lot of explanation as to what is going on - unusually for Doctor Who, there isn't a great amount of expository writing. There are enigmatic conversations (such as that between the Doctor and Isiah), bewildering monologues (Fenn-Cooper's, in episode one, is superb), and much else that is strange and perplexing (in a good way), but we, the viewer, are left to fill in many of the gaps.

We may have to watch Ghost Light a couple of times to appreciate it fully, but when a story is so full of brilliant moments, it isn't really a hardship. There is Ace's analysis of the 19th century mind: "Scratch the Victorian veneer, and something nasty will come crawling out!"; the Reverend, firmly against the theory of evolution, de-evolving into an ape-like state, munching a banana; and the iconic moment where the Doctor is told, after he stops a clock by halting the movement of the pendulum, that he is as "powerful" as he is "wise". Even writing about it makes me smile. Ghost Light takes Doctor Who and makes it better; takes two characters, and makes them finer and more complex.

The New Adventures told stories too broad or deep for the screen, and here Platt plants seeds for what would follow: a Doctor with dark motives and agendas - "Even I can't play this many games at once!" - and an Ace tormented with memories, looking on as a building burns, emergency-service lights flashing in her face. Highly recommended, and definitely worth revisiting.

Following on from the excellent 'Remembrance of the Daleks', 'The Happiness Patrol' features Sylvester McCoy still on top form, and the Doctor here has too many good lines to list. One glorious moment sees him turning the questions back on the questioner, Trevor Sigma, while another is his confrontation with two guards (a classic Who moment). There are many more good moments, and only two lapses into bad-McCoy territory: the first, at the end of episode one, where McCoy really doesn't manage to pull off a plausible reaction to the Kandy Man's threat; and the second, a moment where he tries to sing the blues, and just looks silly. The latter, however, is saved by the context of the scene, where atmospheric and subtle support is given by Richard D. Sharp, playing Earl Sigma, a wandering medical student, who happens to be an ace player of the blues harmonica.

The score of 'The Happiness Patrol' is, of course, one its very best traits. Layered on top of the usual incidental music is a carefully judged combination of blues guitar and harmonica playing. In tune with the score is the set design, mixing together (with no lack of irony) the hard-edged industrial paintings of Fernand Leger, imagery from Lang's 'Metropolis', and the colour pallete of a children's sweet packet. Of course, as we know, good set design in 1980s Doctor Who stories was often ruined by boring, flat lighting. Pleasingly, that is not the case here. Moody and atmospheric film-noir (albeit full-colour-film-noir) lighting of the street and pipe scenes makes for one of the best looking Doctor Who stories ever made. One of the scenes to benefit vastly is the cliff-hanger to episode two. From a shot of a member of the happiness painting 'RIP' (in pink) onto an execution poster, the camera slowly pans to focus on the Doctor, eyes in shadow, looking part-anxious, part-highly-dangerous toppler of evil regimes; the shot is held for a second or two, and then the music surges in. A cliff-hanger to beat all cliff-hangers. 

Watching 'The Happiness Patrol' now, almost 15 years after it was originally broadcast, what stands out is the cleverness of it all. The evidence indicates that a lot of work, on several levels, went into constructing a story often accused of being poorly made and tacky. It may have had a low budget, but it doesn't suffer from it; and any 'tackiness' is clearly ironic, working within the context of the narrative. There are occasional moments when a detail of the production makes you wonder if they couldn't have thought things through a bit more, and occasionally the editing is over-zealous, cutting a scene a little too short, and lessening the effect of a punchline or a dramatic speech. But these are minor problems, and they do little to spoil the enjoyment of a thoroughly ambitious and engaging Doctor Who serial.

The story's opening is beautifully dark, with a suitably disturbing introduction to one of the Doctor's boldest stories. The period of the story is set efficiently, and the introduction of the Doctor and Ace shows off the wonderful rapport that has developed between both the characters and the actors. The Doctor's line, 'It's a surprise,' in reference to the reason for their visit, seems almost cruel on a repeated viewing, evidence of the Doctor's evolution, an overall theme of the story, into someone, or something, darker; less predictable.

The Doctor and Ace seem to 'slide' into the story, and are almost too readily accepted with no question from the players, but this ultimately only reinforces the themes developed later in the story and is typical of the show's era. The introduction of Nimrod is our first true sign that all is not as it should be, besides the glowing purple eyes which merely softened the impact without ever being adequately explained. Despite events spiralling dangerously, the Doctor now takes an admirable degree of control over the situation. It is perhaps of no coincidence that a character by that very name appears later in the story. The character of Josiah Smith,though, is a truly wonderful creation of style, with his shades, dust and white gloves, combined with substance, in his references to the moth's need to evolve due to industrial influence, again introducing the theme of evolution.

The story feels as if a great debt is owed to 'Sapphire and Steel' in as much as it feels wonderfully claustrophobic, and not least for the shots of Redvers strapped into a straightjacket whilst light pours from the snuffbox. The scripting also shines, as shown in the exchange between Ace and the Doctor as the girl realises that her protector has deceived her; but it is the Doctor's revelation that he loathes bus stations, unrequited love, cruelty and tyranny that simply explains the Doctor for who he is.

The story is filmed with a certain flair including some beautiful juxtaposition of imagery, such as the Reverend being drugged whilst Josiah's niece plays the piano, for example; the song predicting the Reverend's final fate.

There follows an example of one this era's laudable 'reality slaps', where Ace reveals how her friend's flat was firebombed, causing Ace to no longer care. Beside being dramatic and anchoring the fantastic in a harsh reality, these references served the writers of Virgin's 'New Adventures' extraordinarily well. 

Of pure joy is the knowing line, 'Oh don't worry, I always leave things to the last moment.' It serves not only as a reference to the way the Doctor always appeared to deal with the problem in 'the nick of time', but also emphasises the way the Doctor has again taken control of the situation. This becomes a recurring theme in this era, introducing the concept of the Doctor as a controller, rather than simply being caught up in a chain of events. It is something of a shame that McCoy's earlier stories put so many viewers off 'Doctor Who' , resulting in many people not witnessing the show's gradual transformation into something darker, more adult; a show beginning to show itself more than worthy of tackling the concerns of the final part of the millennium.

The introduction of the Policeman quietly emphasises the Doctor's power and also carries an echo of characters from earlier Victorian stories in his true old-fashioned perspective, along with the racist attitudes.

The Doctor reminds us of two things with his line, 'You must excuse me, things are getting out of control'; that he does exert some form of control over the proceedings but that his control is not perfect. This has the effect of disquieting the viewer and adds to the reinvented mysterious nature the Doctor has been acquiring, as events spiral out of control once more. The disturbing concept of the Doctor directly meddling and then losing control is never more emphasised than when Light casually destroys the maid under Josiah's control.

We learn more of Ace's past as her character is fleshed out further, just before a delightfully creepy yet somewhat kitsch sequence which leads to an equally delightful mid-episode cliffhanger as the now darkened Gwen takes advantage of Ace's momentary weakness. The following action sequences admittedly let the story down, but to err is to leave one wanting more. There is a wonderful nod to the now late Douglas Adams, as the Doctor, and the script, regain control, culminating in the excising of Ace's ghosts.