Direction and writing in Doctor Who are two elements which rarely come together; we either get a well directed story with poor writing (Earthshock) or a well written story with bad direction, which is the case here. Vengeance on Varos is almost ruined by Ron Jones' absolutely flareless direction. A lot of people will nominate Peter Moffatt for the title of Worst Who Director, but in truth he occasionally was capable of something approaching atmosphere (State of Decay is an admittedly inconsistent example of this). Jones, on the other hand, never rises to a challenge, and he succeeds in sucking the life out of a highly interesting script, with, perhaps incredibly, some well judged edits by Eric Saward.

The most potent example of this is the first scene between Arak and Etta. Never mind that Etta looks about thirty years older than her supposed husband; the really jarring thing about this moment is how slowly it seems to pass. And it isn't anything to do with leaden dialogue- it's because Ron Jones directs the scene unadventurously, a long wide shot of the two arguing. I was sorely tempted to turn it off.

But to do so would mean missing an otherwise fantastic story. The writing, by Phillip Martin, is excellent. He manages to give almost all of the major characters a clear identity. We sympathise with the weary Governor; and we are reviled by the reptilian Sil. Equally, the issues it tackles, most prominently video nasties, are fascinating, particularly so when you look at how creatively and intellectually bereft most of it's Season 22 stablemates are. Occasionally the structure wobbles, but this is largely due to the fact that the series had changed to a slower paced 45 minute format. Is it violent? For a Doctor Who story, yes, but the furore at the time surrounding it was misjudged, as it is farely tame by today's standards. Plus, at least it is provocative, and not a dull Underworld style runaround.

And at least on the acting front, Ron Jones got something right, by casting disabled performer Nabil Shaban as Sil. The remarkable design of the character has something to do with the success of Varos and Shaban imbues him with some truly vile habits, like his hugely grating laugh. The rest of the cast is variable, as usual; Martin Jarvis is excellent, Jason Connery less so in the important role of Jondar, which would have been a hard slog for most actors anyway. Colin Baker really takes control, however, and in some respects we see him acting, rather than simply hamming it up. The scenes in which he feigns death are a case in point. From a production stance, it is competent but not visually resplendent; few stories set in an underground mining colony could be.

After the grim and grittiness of 'Attack of the Cybermen' and 'Vengeance on Varos', 'The Mark of the Rani' is something of a change in tone. It is notorious for several reasons; one criticism often leveled against it is that three renegade Time Lords arrive in the same period of Earth's history for different reasons. This isn't actually true; the Rani arrives first, the Master follows her from Miasimia Goria, and then he draws the Doctor there. A second issue is a certain special effect, which I'll come to below, and the other thing for which 'The Mark of the Rani' is notorious is that it sees the Doctor Who debut of husband and wife writing team Pip and Jane Baker, who aren't terribly popular with many fans and who are renowned for writing pompous overblown dialogue. Nevertheless, 'The Mark of the Rani' is rather entertaining.

The actual plot is very straightforward; the Rani has been visiting various historical periods in order to steal a chemical from human brains that gives them the ability to sleep, since she needs it for her work. The Master is attempting to pervert the course of history and has decided to take advantage of the Rani's presence whether she likes it or not, and the Doctor wants to stop them both. All of which is merely a framework to allow Pip and Jane Baker to have fun with the relationship between the Doctor and the Master, with the Rani as acerbic commentator. This is, on the whole, rather effective; I have misgivings about bringing back the Master after his seeming demise in 'Planet of Fire', although since it was probably inevitable I can't help being amused by the fact that the script takes the piss out of his tendency to pop up unexpectedly, often in a stupid disguise. There is absolutely no need for him to disguise himself as a scarecrow, and the fact that the script calls upon him to do so smacks to me of a big knowing wink to the audience, especially since he soon sheds this guise. Likewise, after his immolation at the end of 'Planet of Fire', his flippant comment that he is "indestructible - the whole universe knows that" reflects the tendency in certain types of science fiction and fantasy (especially comics) for arch-enemies to return from seemingly certain death. 

The presence of the Rani prevents 'The Mark of the Rani' from being the usual Doctor versus Master runaround. She's actually quite a good character here; she is utterly amoral, with no concern whatsoever for what she sees as lesser beings, and unlike the Master she has a very clear motivation; a proficient biochemist, she is obsessed with scientific discovery, to the point that she has no time for ethics. With the current tendency for scientists to be cast in a rather poor light by the British media, this actually feels quite relevant at the moment, although the Bakers exhibit little interest in social commentary. Despite her ruthless and uncaring approach to her work, and her irritation at any interference, the Rani also has something of a vicious streak, as her smug attitude to Luke's transformation into a tree attests. However, she is for the most part a clear contrast to both the compassionate and emotional Doctor, and the Master who here is portrayed, in almost tongue in cheek fashion, as a raving lunatic. And that is the modest beauty of 'The Mark of the Rani' - at its best, it is very witty. The Rani is constantly used to mock both the Doctor and the Master, with lines such as "You're unbalanced… no wonder the Doctor always outwits you", "asinine cretin", "He'd get dizzy if he tried to walk in a straight line", and perhaps most pointedly, "Do stop squabbling and get on with it" as the Master has the Doctor at his mercy but accidentally allows him, in pure Dr. Evil style, to escape because he can't resist the chance to gloat. 

The relationship between the Doctor and the Master is lampooned throughout, and not just when the Rani is present. The Master obviously knows that dropping the TARDIS down a mineshaft won't damage, it but he arranges it anyway, just to cause the Doctor enormous inconvenience. By far my favourite line from the Master is his description of the Doctor: "mean looking… wears yellow trousers and a vulgarly coloured coat". In addition, the Master has a plan here which whilst superficially similar to that in 'The King's Demons' is far more in keeping with his characterisation during the Pertwee era, in that he plans on tampering with Earth's history but wants to do so in order to transform the planet into a power base, rather than simply causing chaos. And as during the Pertwee era, the Master's obsession with humiliating the Doctor is the cause of his own defeat, since it is he that forcibly involves the Doctor in the first place. 

What really makes 'The Mark of the Rani' work in this way is the acting. Anthony Ainley often plays against his lines and puts in a fairly straight performance, which works brilliantly because it makes the Master seem really bonkers rather than just over the top. Kate O'Mara is excellent as the Rani, bringing a memorable dominatrix air to the role as she strides about in figure hugging clothing and constantly belittles her fellow Time Lords; O'Mara conveys the Rani's lack of tolerance for the Master in particular very well. What also interests me about the two villains is that whilst the Rani would dearly like to clear off and leave the Master to his feud with the Doctor he if hadn't purloined her brain fluid, the Master seems almost besotted with her - it is unusual for him to take an ally without at some point trying to either double-cross or kill them, but he seems genuinely determined to impress her. 

Colin Baker is also crucial to the three-way rivalry of 'The Mark of the Rani', and he conveys very well the Doctor's contempt for both the Master and the Rani. Like the Master the Doctor seems to have some measure of respect for the Rani, or rather for her intelligence, but makes no secret of the fact that he can't stand her. The Doctor's fury at Luke's transformation is one of Baker's best performances of moral outrage during Season Twenty-Two, and it is interesting that it is focused more at the Rani (who created the traps) rather than the Master, who put her up to using them. It reflects an earlier line, suggesting that whilst the Doctor dislikes the Rani, he is disappointed to find that she has sunk to the depths plumbed by his old archenemy. One of things I like most about 'The Mark of the Rani' however, is the denouement; the Doctor spends most of Episode Two on the trail of the Master and the Rani, and maintains the upper hand for a good deal of it. His eventual defeat of the Master and the Rani is beautifully simple; he sabotages the Rani's TARDIS and sends them hurtling off into the depths of space, out of control. The reason I like this relatively low-key defeat is that for all the Master's overly complicated plans to humiliate his old enemy, the Doctor manages to outwit both him and the Rani with simplicity and ease. 

The other cast members in 'The Mark of the Rani' are all perfectly adequate, although they tend to be overshadowed by the performances of the three Time Lords. The only one who really stands out is Terence Alexander as Lord Ravensworth, who's first meeting with the Doctor prompts him to reluctantly concede, "You just might be a gentleman". As for Nicola Bryant, she's fine as Peri, although she gets relatively little to do here. Nevertheless, there is some nice use made of Peri's botanical background, and in keeping with the light hearted feel that permeates much of the story, her usual bickering with the Doctor has by this point clearly become that which can exist between close friends. The Doctor and Peri may exchange lines such as "Occasional, just occasionally, your smugness infuriates me!" but they are obviously deliberately winding each other up rather than offering genuine or angry criticism. 

The production is generally rather good; the location filming is stunning, and the sets, despite looking rather artificial, match up with the exteriors very well. The Rani's TARDIS is worthy of particular note, since it is far more imaginative than the design used for the Master's in 'Planet of Fire', which was of course identical to the Doctor's but black instead of white. Sarah Hellings does a great job of directing (the cliffhanger, insertion of an extra frame into the reprise, is highly effective) and is aided and abetted by an impressive score from Jonathon Gibbs. 

On the whole then, 'The Mark of the Rani' works very well. Despite the Bakers' reputation, the dialogue is not too overblown, aside from odd exceptions such as "Fortuitous would be a more apposite epithet", or it is overblown but used for comic effect in the case of some of the lines uttered by the three Time Lords. But one thing I have to mention, inevitably, is the tree. I don't care that it looks fake, its just a low-budget prop when all is said and done, but what does make me cringe is the fact that it is able to bend its branch and save Peri from being similarly transformed. It seems the Rani's evil genius lies not in transforming hapless victims into trees, but into Ents…

'Revelation of the Daleks', like 'Resurrection of the Daleks', features many of the worst aspects of Eric Saward's writing style. The Doctor is largely sidelined and plays little part in the story's resolution, Saward seems more interested in writing for mercenaries than for the main character, and the body count is cranked up in an attempt to create an adult feel. The difference here however, is that it works beautifully.

'Revelation of the Daleks' is not a Dalek story; it is Davros'. Whilst Saward focused on Davros to the detriment of the Daleks in 'Resurrection of the Daleks', here he avoids this by portraying Davros' own Daleks as little more than drones. The Daleks from Skaro play a role, but not until towards the end of Episode Two. Since the Daleks here have been custom made by Davros, the fact that they play second fiddle to him in no way detracts from the story, and allows Saward to concentrate primarily on their creator. The result is superb; for the first time since 'Genesis of the Daleks', we see Davros fully in control of a situation and see what he does when left to his own devices. Davros is at his most cunning and resourceful here; he has established himself as "the Great Healer" on Nekros, simultaneously giving himself access to the cryogenically preserved humans that are the basis for his new Dalek army, whilst also providing the income he needs to finance this enterprise. He manipulates and discards the personnel of Tranquil Repose as he wishes, often seemingly to satisfy his own sadistic urges more than for any other reason, and he takes few risks. After the betrayals and dangers that he has endured during his previous stories, here he takes precautions against attacks upon his person in a logical character development; the cloned "head" that he uses as a "lure for the assassin's bullet" is one such precaution, another is that he has apparently modified himself so that he can fire bolts of energy from his hand and his eye. For a being as intelligent as Davros it seems a sensible move, and it benefits the character enormously. 

So too does Davros' trap for the Doctor; the forty-five minute episode format of Season Twenty-Two results on several occasions in much padding, with the Doctor and Peri taking more time than usual to become involved in the main plot. This is equally true here, but is used effectively since it forms part of Davros' elaborate trap for the Doctor. Despite his misgivings about Stengos' apparently out of character decision to be interred at Tranquil Repose, his curiosity gets the better of him and he wanders straight into Davros' web of intrigue regardless. Indeed, one of the main reasons that 'Revelation of the Daleks' benefits Davros' character is that he so nearly wins; whilst Orcini is responsible for destroying Davros' Dalek army and the Doctor is responsible for saving a handful of lives and offering the survivors new hope in the form of the weed plant, it is ultimately the unexpected (by Davros) intervention of Takis and Lilt that results in Davros' defeat. He expects the arrival of the Doctor and prepares for it, and he equally expects treachery from his business associate Kara, but the indignation of two mortuary attendants makes his plans come undone at the last minute. 

In addition to all of his scheming, Davros gets other examples of great characterisation courtesy of Saward. His manipulation of Tasambeker is pure sadism; watching all of Tranquil Repose on his ubiquitous cameras, he observes her obsession with the disinterested Jobel and exploits it. Whether or not Davros truly intends to transform Tasambeker into a Dalek if she obediently kills Jobel is unclear, but it is probably unlikely; given his preference for intellects from the humans available, the lovesick and gullible Tasambeker seems an odd choice. Ultimately, when she betrays Davros and tries to warn Jobel to escape, she is exterminated even after killing Jobel anyway when he rather cruelly rejects her; but I strongly suspect that this was to be her fate anyway, in which case it gives us a fascinating glimpse of how sadistic Davros has become. Ultimately, he toys with Tasambeker to amuse himself. Another example is the statue that he has erected of the Doctor; utterly pointless (beyond the need to provide a cliffhanger), it nevertheless rattles the Doctor and causes him some indignity as he it falls on him and douses him in fake blood. Given Davros' giggling as he watches the Doctor and Peri approach just before this scene, it seems to be the case that the whole point of the statue is that it amuses Davros to play such a trick on his old enemy.

Lastly on the subject of Davros, his conversation with the Doctor when they finally come face to face once more is also rather interesting. His justification for transforming the abandoned denizens of Tranquil Repose into Daleks is that they as men of power and ambition they would realize that they are better of as Daleks than left to rot; he might just be gloating or being sadistic again, but I always get the impression that he really believes it. He also has no problem in justifying the fact that he has been feeding local planets on protein concentrate mass-produced from their own dead, and he discusses this as though it were simply a practical solution rather than a concept that is genuinely horrifying. I should also at this point mention Terry Molloy; whilst some fans do not favour his ranting in the role, I still enjoy his performance enormously, and he is a key part of the success of this particular story. 

As I've already noted, the Doctor and Peri take ages to reach Tranquil Repose, spending most of Episode One wandering about trying to find a way in. In many ways, this is symptomatic of the forty-five minute episode format, but Saward, seemingly inspired by Robert Holmes, fills the void thus created not with obvious padding, but with some splendid characterisation. There is an distinctly grotesque feel to many of the supporting characters, from the vain and pompous Jobel, to the pseudo-Holmesian double act of Takis and Lilt, and it manages to be hugely entertaining. This is largely dependent not only on the script but also on the acting; Clive Swift is perfect as Jobel, because he not only brings the right amount of bluster and conceit to the role, but also because he physically fits the role, Jobel being, as Tasambeker eventually points out, fat and bald despite his colossal ego probably telling him otherwise. He uses his power and influence to seduce his female staff members, but seems deluded about exactly what it is they are attracted too; consequently, when Peri spurns his advances with obvious distaste, he seems unable to grasp that she simply doesn't find him remotely attractive, and seems to assume that she is merely playing hard to get. Tellingly, her initial rebuttal of him is met with the words "I am Jobel, I'm very important here", which probably sums up his usual technique for chatting up women. 

Equally well cast is Jenny Tomasin as Tasambeker. Interestingly, during her first scene Tomasin seems like a dreadful actress, as she stands and bellows at Trevor Cooper (Takis) and Colin Spaull (Lilt) in a worryingly hammy fashion, but she very quickly makes the role her own, portraying Tasambeker as emotionally fragile and socially inept. It is difficult not to feel sorry her for her by the end, as Davros toys with her affections for Jobel and nudges her into killing him; the scene in which Jobel shatters her ill-concealed desire to gain his affection is superbly written because it's so pettily cruel. Jobel directs snide asides at her throughout, but his final rejection of her is deeply cutting, callous and obviously meant to hurt, and is the final straw that makes her snap and kill him. Tomasin portrays Tasambeker's enormous distress at what she has done in her final scene, just before she meets an inevitable tragic end as two Daleks gun her down. And this is typical of why 'Revelation of the Daleks' works so much better than many of Saward's efforts; just as in 'Resurrection of the Daleks', he includes the deaths of large numbers of supporting characters, but whereas in that story they were anonymous cannon-fodder, here they are people in whom he makes the audience interested. 

There are several other examples. The thoroughly irritating DJ (Alexei Sayle) is despised by some fans, but he fits perfectly in amongst the dysfunctional cast of 'Revelation of the Daleks'. He is clearly meant to be annoying, a fact that fatally gains him Davros' loathing early on, but when Peri eventually meets him he turns out to be more than just a "prattling DJ", Sayle conveying his shyness and also his genuine enthusiasm for the music he plays. In keeping with the spirit of things, he also seems slightly unbalanced however, since his deadly ultrasonic beam of rock 'n' roll has clearly been built at some previous point, for what reason we are not told… In short then, Saward finally masters characterisation, not just of one or two key characters, but of all of them. Minor characters are made interesting by little details such as Grigory's alcoholism, Takis' interest in flowers, and Vogel's willingness to commit petty fraud for Kara. Even the nameless mutant is interesting, thanking Peri for killing him as it frees him from a life of painful disfigurement. 

Of all the characters created specifically for 'Revelation of the Daleks', William Gaunt's Orcini is probably the most effective. Saward's interest in mercenaries was obvious in his creation of Lytton for 'Resurrection of the Daleks' and his obvious influence over the character's role in 'Attack of the Cybermen', but Orcini is far more interesting than Lytton from his very first scene onwards. Mercenaries or warriors with a sense of honour are not exactly rare in science fiction, but Orcini is nevertheless very well handled, partly because of Gaunt's acting, and partly because the script brings out different facets to his character. Initially he seems vaguely sinister, but with comic undertones; John Ogwen's malodorous Bostock makes a great foil for him, and as soon as Orcini starts apologizing to Kara for his Squire's smell, a distinct tongue-in-cheek feeling, complemented by Orcini forgetting to ask Kara for the code for her "signaling device". The slightly buffoonish air surrounding Orcini and Bostock is revisited as they reach the edge of Tranquil Repose and Orcini talks of regaining past honour in the eyes of his order, announcing to his Squire "only fools would take the risks I do". Bostock's lack of faith in his master's choice of weapon does not instill confidence in Orcini's abilities, until the precise moment that he swings round and destroys a Dalek. Suddenly, Orcini is a character to be taken seriously, and this remains throughout the rest of the story. His killing of Kara, and his sudden alliance with the Doctor (mutually agreed in a single moment of eye-to-eye contact) show a man whose mind is focused entirely on the task in hand; by the time he sacrifices himself in an attempt to destroy Davros (allowing the Doctor and his friends time to escape not because he has to but because he can), there is little doubt that he has found the honour that he was seeking. 

Whilst Saward's script is one of his best, a large part of the success of 'Revelation of the Daleks' has to be attributed to director Graeme Harper. The story looks superb from the start, as Harper switches seamless between superb location work and excellent sets. There are some great shots on display here, such as the early close up of a sarcophagus in Episode One, the impressive split level shot as the camera moves between floors, and the electrifying scene with Stengos' head, and the careful visuals are complemented perfectly by Roger Limb's dramatic score. There are minor deficiencies (attempts to make both a Dalek and Davros hover in mid-air, whilst laudable, don't quite work as they should), but these are easily outweighed by the production's many good points. It is worth noting that 'Revelation of the Daleks' is also rather horrific in places, and it is largely due to Harper's direction that such moments really have impact. The disfigured mutant and Davros' hand being shot off (followed by a brief shot of his fingers lying on the floor) are both examples, but by far the most disturbing scene in the story, and indeed one of the most horrific in the series, is the scene with Stengos. The sheer horror of Natasha finding the head of a loved one suspended in a tank and slowly mutating into a monster is considerable and whilst it was arguably too strong for the younger members of a Saturday teatime audience, it is a powerfully effective way of conveying just how monstrously evil Davros really is, without just having him ranting and raving and issuing threats. 

Finally, the Doctor and Peri get some nice character moments here, and both Colin Baker and Nicola Bryant are at the height of their powers. The usual (amusing) bickering is on display, but there is also real emotion between them. The Doctor's quiet "I'm sorry about the DJ" is understated but clearly heartfelt, and suggests genuine concern for the feelings of his companion. It is unfortunate that Baker's tenure as the Doctor was about to be so rudely interrupted; his final "I'll take you to B…" a rather abrupt end to 'Revelation of the Daleks' (the Doctor and Peri's trip to Blackpool eventual seeing light as a novel), but at least the variable Season Twenty-Two ends on a high point.

It is unfortunate that Colin Baker made so few Doctor Who stories for television, but his short era is fascinating, as in many ways it is a microcosm of the series. In Season 22 there is a multi-Doctor story, a Dalek story, a Cybermen story, and this, a pseudo historical adventure set during the Luddite riots in England. While on the whole it is probably one of the better Sixth Doctor adventures, lacking as it is many of the obvious faults that befell his two and a bit seasons, it is still a somewhat misjudged.

The title refers to a Time Lady, the Rani, who has been stealing brain chemicals from pit workers in 19th century Newcastle. The Doctor and Peri arrive, forced there by The Master, who plans to kill his nemesis. But they both become involved in the strange events, the former trying to prevent the alteration of history, the latter planning to use George Stevenson to aid him in his dreams of world domination.

The script, by Pip and Jane Baker, is intriguing, but they come up with some of the most preposterous dialogue heard in series history. They should probably be praised for trying to enlarge our vocabularies, but then again does anyone know what "Apposite epithet" means, or even care? They also seem to get the characterisation of The Doctor and Peri wrong, and insert a set piece in which The Rani and Peri must traverse a field of mines...that turn unfortunate victims into trees. It's so out of place you have to suspect that substances were involved during the writing...mind you, some of the blame must be pointed at poor Eric Saward. He might've been apathetic to The Master, but that's no reason not to provide an explanation as to his escape from death in Planet of Fire. Sometimes, I think he's undeserving of most of the critical flack he receives. But for laziness like that, most of the time I have to agree with it.

The performances are mixed. Colin Baker is as good as ever, but Nicola Bryant is growing increasingly annoying. Granted, she gets some of the worst dialogue ("You suspect another motive?"), but she still doesn't have the skill to deliver it in a way to make it sound half-decent, and her American accent is growing even more wobbly. She also wears too much, although that's perhaps a more trivial complaint. Anthony Ainley returns with an oddly restrained performance, acting as nothing more than The Rani's lackey throughout the story. And The Rani herself? Well, Kate O' Mara's not bad, but essentially her character is nothing more than a female Master, and when she's in a scene with former co-star Colin, or Ainley, things really do get cheesy.

It's left to director Sarah Hellings to make up for these deficincies. Helped by an atmospheric location, she works wonders, which are magnified when you look at who directed the two stories surrounding this one. There are some delightful visual touches, like the volcano, The Rani's TARDIS (which, I'm afraid to say, is a lot better than the Doctor's) and the odd shot at the end in which one of the dinosaur embroyos inside her TARDIS begins to grow at an accelerated speed, which is a surprisingly effective, er, effect.

Unfortunately though, The Mark of the Rani also has bad dialogue and some duff performances, so they negate these good points to a certain extent. But I'm prepared to be generous to this one as Colin made so few, and was such an enjoyable and under-rated Doctor, even when the odds were stacked against him.

'The Two Doctors' provokes a fairly lukewarm response from many fans, for a variety of reasons including the relatively high level of gore and violence on display. Given that Robert Holmes is by far my favourite Doctor Who writer, I must concede that it is rather disappointing; nevertheless, despite many flaws, it has much to offer and is arguably the best multi-Doctor story of the entire television series. 

There are several problems with 'The Two Doctors'. The most obvious is a rather gaping plot hole, which is the fact that the Sixth Doctor has no memory of the events taking place, despite the fact that he meets his Second incarnation here. This is arguably a problem with both 'The Three Doctors' and 'The Five Doctors', but is less obvious in those stories. In the former, the Time Lords deliberately cause the first three Doctors to meet, and the casual reviewer is reminded at the end of that story that they are capable of blocking memories (a fact first established in 'The War Games') as they restore the Doctor's memory of how to operate the TARDIS at the end. 'The Five Doctors' is less blatant, but the line "Old Rassilon is very clever" covers a multitude of sins. Here, there is no explanation at all for why the Sixth Doctor does not remember these events; whilst I can quite happily sit back and espouse the virtues of the "Season 6B theory" (which also, incidentally, explains the continuity problems for which this story is notorious amongst fans), the casual viewer should not have to resort to complex theories in order to explain the plot. The reason provided for the Doctors meeting each other is that the Sixth Doctor feels the trauma suffered by his past self, but this provides yet another logistical nightmare; unless the off-screen interference of the Time Lords in sending the Second Doctor to visit Dastari causes a change in the Doctor's timeline, it is akin to me feeling the trauma of some childhood injury, and if some change to the Doctor's timeline has occurred it raises the question of why only the Sixth Doctor goes in search of his past self. Neither explanation is at all logical. 

But despite this, I maintain that 'The Two Doctors' is the best multi-Doctor story of the television series, for the simple reason that the Doctor essentially bumps into himself on his travels. This isn't implausible for a time traveler, and I find the concept far more appealing than multiple Doctors being plucked out of time deliberately in order to combat some threat. Furthermore, of the three multi-Doctor stories in which he appears, 'The Two Doctors' boasts Patrick Troughton's best performance. He still doesn't quite recapture the fierce intelligence, compassion and whimsy that he brought to the role during his own era, but he's a lot better than the caricature of 'The Three Doctors' and 'The Five Doctors'. He also works well with Colin Baker, the pair complementing each other nicely without the rather contrived on-screen bickering that twice previously has characterised Troughton's appearances with Jon Pertwee. The Second and Sixth Doctors do bicker, but it feels far more natural and casual than that between the Second and Third Doctors. In addition, both Troughton and Baker seem to be enjoying themselves; Troughton is clearly pleased to be back in the role as a one off, and Baker has by now settled down somewhat in the role. Actually, it might be fairer to say that script-editor Eric Saward has allowed the Sixth Doctor to settle down. He's still egotistical, arrogant and temperamental, and he still argues with Peri a lot, but he's far less belligerent than in his first two stories, maintaining the more commanding and likeable persona of 'Vengeance on Varos' and 'The Mark of the Rani'.

'The Two Doctors' however, has other flaws. I haven't mentioned the forty-five minute episode format thus far, but it has a major limitation; with more time to fill before the first cliffhanger, the writers tend to prevaricate somewhat, with the Doctor taking a good twenty-five minutes or so to get involved in the action. 'Attack of the Cybermen' committed far worse crimes, 'Vengeance on Varos' made use of its grotesque supporting characters to distract from this problem, and 'The Mark of the Rani' avoided it altogether, but Episode One of 'The Two Doctors' does rather drag. After the Sontarans attack the station, we see little of the Second Doctor until the following episode, and the Sixth spends a great deal of time wandering about and achieving little. Whilst he tracks his former self to Space Station Chimera, he doesn't really find out what is going on until Episode Two, once he finds and calms Jamie. Meanwhile, he and Peri face some mediocre traps provided by the station computer, and then clamber about in a cheap and nasty jungle-gym set until the cliffhanger. 

Another problem of 'The Two Doctors' is the famously flat direction from the often-pedestrian Peter Moffatt. The ill judged long-shot revelation of the Sontarans has been well discussed, but the whole production is directed with very little flair. The overseas location filming is a waste of time and money, since little of Seville is actually seen on screen, creating the impression that the production team just fancied a holiday at the license payers' expense. Peter Howell's incidental score at least is very effective, but the overall quality of the production is highly variable; the Sontarans look absolutely dreadful, which is appalling considering how good Linx looked some twelve years earlier. Here, the Sontaran masks are rubbery and poorly fitted to the actors, and it doesn't help that Clinton Greyn's largely vocal performance as Stike is unconvincing and melodramatic. Greyn is not the only actor lacking; Lawrence Payne is terribly wooden as Dastari, despite far more successful performances in the series during the past, as Johnny Ringo in 'The Gunfighters' and as Morix in 'The Leisure Hive'. It perhaps doesn't help that Holmes' skill at characterisation deserts him on this specific occasion, since Dastari's motivation is highly unconvincing. From an old friend of the Doctor, he switches to an immoral excuser of his greatest creation's atrocities, failing to bat an eyelid at the slaughter of his colleagues on board Chimera. He equally unconvincingly sees the folly of his actions when he witnesses Chessene giving in to her Androgum nature and licking the Doctor's blood. Perhaps Dastari is just mad; this might explain why he leaves the keys stupidly near to the two Doctors after he chains them up in Episode Three… Finally, Jacqueline Pearce is unremarkable as Chessene; she basically delivers the same performance she usually gives as Servalan in Blake's 7, but without the flirting. Whilst Holmes' use of a female principle villain is long overdue, it doesn't help that Chessene is by far the least interesting villain of the piece; like Servalan, she is ruthless, intelligent and utterly untrustworthy, but unlike Servalan she lacks character. Fortunately however, there is another villain present in 'The Two Doctors' who more than compensates…

Shockeye is a great villain. Whilst Holmes' skill at characterisation deserts him for Dastari, it serves him well in the case of John Stratton's cuisine obsessed villain. Shockeye is so memorable because he has an unusual but consistent and interesting motivation; his all-consuming interest in food makes him extremely dangerous to everybody else, especially humans, or as he calls them "tellurians". Typically for Holmes, Androgum culture is well thought out, making Shockeye and by extension all of his species except for the augmented Chessene a detailed alien race, rather than merely a monster. The Androgum philosophy that "the gratification of pleasure is the sole motive for action" tells the viewer a great deal about them and clearly motivates Shockeye (and their clan system, with names such as the Quancine Grig and the Franzine Grig, is further attention to detail). References to blood ties, and other cultural traditions such as tasting the raw flesh of any animal they eat before starting to cook it provide a wealth of information without the need for crass expository dialogue. The fawning Shockeye is especially effective thanks to John Stratton's performance; he captures not only Shockeye's insatiable appetite for food, but also his obsequiousness and most importantly the fact that the character is extremely dangerous. It is this latter character trait that provides most of the controversy surrounding 'The Two Doctors'. Many fans in my opinion exaggerate out of all proportion the scene in which he bites a chunk out of rat, but then I just find it amusing. Perhaps more valid a criticism is that the murder of Oscar is rather too brutal a scene for a series once more broadcast in its traditional Saturday teatime slot, as the camera lingers on Oscar's staring corpse for far longer than it needs to. On the other hand, from my perspective as an adult watching the story on video, it works because after the highly entertaining scenes in which the semi-Androgum Second Doctor and Shockeye gorge themselves on a vast amount of food it suddenly reminds us that Shockeye can and will kill without compunction. His pursuit of Peri at the end of Episode Two is highly disturbing, because rather than fawning over her as Sharaz Jek did (itself rendered effectively disturbing), his desire for her is perhaps even more horrific, as he intends to butcher and eat her. All of which brings me to Shockeye's death, and the Sixth Doctor's use of cyanide to dispatch his foe; I have no problem with it whatsoever. The wounded limping Doctor is being hunted by a physically stronger being that is both able and determined to kill him and he deals with him using the only weapon that he has to hand; the Doctor improvising to bring about the defeat or demise of his opponent is not new to Doctor Who by this time. 

The Sontarans' also benefit from their creator's touch, even if they are poorly acted and presented on screen. Holmes' once more imbues them with a sense of brutal honour, Stike fretting about not being able to stand shoulder to shoulder with his men in battle due to the delays caused by Chessene. He vows that "When I die it will be with my comrades at the front", bemoans his need to rely on civilians, and general demonstrates the brutal cunning and resourcefulness that the Sontarans possess at their best. Failed thespian, moth collector and temporary restaurant manager Oscar Botcherby, who is very well written but sadly underused, also exemplifies Holmes' skill at characterisation. The sheer number of characters already vying for time in the story means that Oscar is sidelined until his unfortunate demise, although Holmes succeeds in making him likeable enough that his death really has an impact. James Saxon is perfect in the role, and had the character had more to do and more screen time, I can't help thinking that he might be as fondly remembered as such Holmes' creations as Jago and Litefoot. 

The regulars are generally well served by the script. I've already discussed the Doctors, but Peri gets plenty to do with surprisingly little whining, as she is called upon to visit the villa, resulting in her near-consumption by Shockeye. Jamie is also used well, Frazer Hines falling back into his old role with consummate ease. The briefly black-and-white scene at the very beginning of the story perfectly captures the old relationship between the Second Doctor and Jamie, and Holmes further builds upon this by allowing him to bond with the Sixth Doctor and Peri too. There is also plenty of gentle wit, including Jamie's obvious hope for a farewell kiss from Anita; disappointed, he makes sure that he gets one from Peri at the end. The Sixth Doctor's complaining about himself also works quite well, and there is also a superb moment when Oscar mistakes him for a policeman. He tells the Doctor, "I can see by your raiment that you are plain clothes division", prompting the Doctor to look down at his garish clothing in puzzlement... Overall then, 'The Two Doctors' is not the classic that it could have been, but it is far better than some fans suggest.

It wouldn't be very original of me to point out that 'Timelash' is an anagram of "lame shit", but I'm going to do it anyway. 'Timelash' is not merely bad; it is so very, very bad that I can't help wondering if writer Glen McCoy was taking the piss. Certainly Eric Saward must have been when he commissioned it. 

So is there anything good at all about 'Timelash'? Erm… well Robert Ashby is admirably restrained as the Borad, and delivers a coldly malevolent performance, which is something of a minor miracle considering the dross that he has to work with. And Colin Baker is as entertaining as ever as the Doctor, especially when he's displaying his exasperation with Herbert. Oh, and the incidental score by Liz Parker is quite good. I also like the much-derided Karfelon androids, whose purple faces, jerky movements and high-pitched voices manage to be quite eerie. And that's about it. 

Anyway, lets be brutally honest; the plot of 'Timelash' stinks. I say plot, but the festering morass of tedious and unbelievable events on offer barely qualifies. The basics of the plot are that the Borad, a nutter, rules the planet Karfel with a grip of iron, randomly turning off the power to hospitals and such like when the fancy takes him. His androids allow him to enforce his will. His eventual aim is to wipe out everything on Karfel aside from himself and the Morloxes, large reptilian monsters one of which he became fused with whilst experimenting with technobabble. Sorry, Mustakozene 80. His intention is to provoke the neighbouring Sock-Puppets into launching a Bendalypse warhead at Karfel in order to achieve this genocidal aim, after which he will repopulate the planet by shagging Peri, whom he intends to similarly transform into a mutant such as himself. The first obvious flaw in this boring and flimsy plot is that two people cannot repopulate a planet, which raises the question of why he doesn't just transform other Karfelons into half-Morlox mutants. Furthermore, he shows no inclination to take a mate from the native population at any point, so it is rather fortunate that the Doctor unexpectedly arrives with Peri in tow at an opportune moment. He clearly hasn't thought this through, and obviously neither has Glen McCoy. He also doesn't seem to have any sort of plan for dealing with the Bandril invasion force that will presumably arrive after they deliver their rocket, in order to harvest the grain that they desperately need. 

In case it hasn't become clear already, the characterisation of the Borad is horrendously bad. He's simply "Mad" in a generic way that makes even the Master's most loony plans seem well-thought out and sensibly motivated. He sits in a chair in a dark room with one big hand (leave it…) and sort of gloats at how evil he is. Oh, and he also clones himself in case anyone actually makes it to his inner sanctum and happens to have a means of dealing with his time weapon, a reasonably convincing special effect that ages people to death. Where the real Borad actually lurks in case he needs to make an unexpected dramatic appearance to make up unused plot time is not disclosed. Indeed, the sudden "resurrection" of the Borad with the crass revelation that the Borad killed previously was a clone is so incredibly bad that I can barely find adequate words to be sufficiently sarcastic about it. It would be the apex of the mountain of shite that is 'Timelash', were it not for the Doctor's unexplained trick with the TARDIS to deflect the Bandril's missile. There is a throwaway line in Episode One about the TARDIS being indestructible for the benefit of casual viewers, but given that the Doctor throws Peri out of the TARDIS because he thinks he's going to die, this isn't very convincing. All we actually get by way of explanation is a line to Peri, which amounts to "I'll explain later" and thus probably provided inspiration for 'The Curse of Fatal Death'. 

As though all of this codswallop were not bad enough, 'Timelash' also has the audacity to be immensely dull. There is considerable padding in Episode One, perhaps best summed up by the embarrassing scene in which the Doctor straps himself and Peri to the TARDIS console. There is also an incredibly tedious scene in which the Doctor arses about inside the Timelash in search of Kontron crystals, which might be slightly more exciting than it actually is if he wasn't surrounded by tinsel. It doesn't help that there is no sense of danger, given that the script gives the impression that Karfel is a planet of about a dozen people, all of whom live in the same small citadel. 

Then there are the characters. 'Timelash' is the only story in which I find Peri to be genuinely annoying, as she moans at the slightest provocation. The initial bickering scene in the TARDIS is actually quite good, as she accuses the Doctor of "aimless wandering", and he responds with indignation; her desire to stay when he offers to take her home is a reminder that however much they argue they remain friends, but this is pretty much the only decent piece of characterisation in the entire story. And whilst I'm on the subject of the Doctor and Peri, it's fortunate that he's had the albums out, since her ability to recognise Jo Grant saves her life. This is so contrived that it speaks for itself and therefore obviates the need for me to use the word "cack". 

Of the supporting characters, only two stand out aside from the Borad, and neither in a good way. Herbert is so irritating that I find myself happily imaging him being dismembered and eaten by a Morlox in order to occupy myself during the ninety minutes of my life that watching 'Timelash' obliterates, and he's clearly only present so that McCoy can nick ideas from H. G. Wells and then try to create the idea that he's being clever. Herbert is also used as an opportunity for some appalling vacuous wit in Episode Two, as he blathers on about dying heroically. David Chandler's performance is noteworthy only for the fact that it makes me want to punch him. Equally dreadful is Paul Darrow as Maylin Tekker. Much as I like Darrow's performance as Avon in Blake's 7, he is incredibly bad here as he hams it up allegedly in revenge for Colin Baker's over-the-top performance as Bayban the Butcher in the rather poor Blake's 7 episode 'City at the Edge of the World'. Given what he is given to work with, I can sympathize with his desire to muck about; Tekker is just as badly characterised as the Borad, and seems to be evil simply because he can. He smirks a lot and says nasty things and has no character motivation whatsoever beyond this. 

'Timelash' also suffers from a script that rivals 'The Twin Dilemma' for atrocious dialogue. Gems on offer include "Avaunt thee, foul fanged fiend!", "microcephalic apostate!", "He's dangling on the edge of oblivion!", and "Soon our planet will rule this corner of the universe with the power of a giant ocean!". The Bandrils, apparently popular with fandom in what I fervently hope is a sort of knowing post-modern ironic way, look like what they are; sock-puppets. They are also supposedly peaceful, although their solution to ending the Borad's refusal to send them grain is to commit genocide. I know they're desperate, but it seems a bit extreme… 

In summary, 'Timelash' is indeed, lame shit. And that's my final word on the matter.