It is often pointed out that ‘The Enemy of the World’ is something of an oddity, possessing an entirely different feel to the other stories in Season Five, and this is certainly true. This is by no means a bad thing however, in a season that some fans consider to be repetitive and formulaic. ‘The Enemy of the World’ makes for a refreshing change from the “monster” stories surrounding it, and carries off its James Bond style storyline with considerable panache.

Firstly, ‘The Enemy of the World’ is interesting for its sense of scale; whereas most Doctor Who stories set on Earth take place in England, this story takes place elsewhere in Europe and in Australia. Exactly how effectively the English location work doubles for Australia is questionable; the only visual record of these scenes is the telesnaps (and thus also the Loose Cannon recon), from which it is hard to tell. Consequently, in this regard is entirely possible that the story benefits from finding a new audience as an audio story, since the scope of the story is perhaps over ambitious. The surviving episode three takes place in the European Zone, and is entirely studio bound, although the occasionally mentioned fact that Denes is kept prisoner in a corridor because “it’s easier to guard him” doesn’t inspire confidence in the production teams ability to fully realize the demands on the script on the budget available. Nonetheless, the studio sets seem decent enough; Denes’ headquarters look convincing enough, and based on the recon so does Salamander’s research station and the underground bunker. The costumes too look reasonable enough, although the helmets worn by the guards look horribly dated. Enough speculation about how the overall production however: what about the story?

‘The Enemy of the World’ is an atypical Doctor Who story in that it is largely a political thriller, with a huge dose of James Bond style world-domination plot thrown in for good measure. During the first three episodes, we see a world of the near future divided into Zones, each with its own controller under the overall control of the World Zones Organisation, which has its own security commanded by Donald Bruce, and which is increasingly coming under the influence of the seemingly benevolent Salamander. Whitaker manages to convey this near future society very well via throwaway lines of dialogue referring to two-hour rocket trips from Australia to Europe, and wheat fields in Siberia (courtesy of Salamander’s technology). Later, the emphasis changes to Salamander’s plan to conquer the world, and although he is engineering natural disasters in order to “predict” them and thus gain political leverage by discrediting those who doubt his scientific abilities, he is essentially a James Bond-esque super villain, with a super weapon that can cause earthquakes, volcanoes, and widespread flooding. In lesser hands, this plot could easily become absurd, and descend into moustache-twirling farce akin to Zaroff’s scheme in ‘The Underwater Menace’, but it doesn’t because Whitaker handles it carefully. The true horror of exactly what Salamander is doing is well conveyed through the plight of Swann’s people, and in addition to this, Troughton manages to play Salamander with admirable restraint. 

As the principle villain, Salamander is crucial to the success or failure of ‘The Enemy of the World’. I must inevitably point out that Troughton adopts a cod Mexican accent, which is not even consistent throughout the story, but whilst this is initially rather distracting, it soon dwindles into unimportance in light of the rest of his performance. In addition, although he’s a villain, at least Whitaker is demonstrating that in this future society, someone who isn’t either British or American can rise to a position of considerable power, which is a rare event in Doctor Who in the sixties (due largely of course to the ethnic backgrounds of most of the actors working in Britain at the time). My main appreciation of Troughton’s performance as Salamander is the character’s restraint. Salamander has a silly accent, wears a costume that makes him seem just as eccentric as the Doctor, and is a megalomaniac psychopath; despite this, he never seems fatuous. From the start, he is clearly ruthless and manipulative, organizing the deaths of anyone who threatens his position, including Denes. He is also very clever, having developed the sun-store and revolutionized farming across the entire world. I mentioned Professor Zaroff earlier, and he serves as a useful comparison, since Salamander could easily have been as much a parody as he was, ranting and raving at every opportunity; yet he does not. One of the most notable things about Salamander, other than the obvious fact that he is a doppelganger of the Doctor, is that he always maintains his calm. Many villains in Doctor Who, from the aforementioned Zaroff to Mavic Chen, are prone to outbursts of rage when their plans go astray; not so Salamander. When he discovers that Jamie and Victoria are working for his enemies, he coolly reprimands them in a stern tone; later, when Fedorin fails to poison Denes, he genially beams at him and tells him “You try, you fail, the moon doesn’t fall out of the sky” – and then kills him. This is an effective technique, as it makes him seem all the more unflappable and therefore secure in his power, but never detracts from the air of quiet menace that he exudes. Most impressively of all, he always clearly remains a distinct character from the Doctor, which is tantamount to Troughton’s acting skills. Which compensates for his inability to adopt a convincing Mexican accent…

Salamander’s cool and collected persona contributes even further to making him a memorable villain when the true extent of his evil becomes clear in episode four. He is not merely a ruthless and murderous politician; he is a monster on a far greater scale. It is hinted in episode two that he is responsible for the eruption of the Eperjet Tokyar Mountains, but it is only confirmed when we discover that he has been keeping a group of people prisoner in an underground bunker beneath his research station. The true of horror of this is palpable; for five years, they have endured a nightmarish existence trapped in their subterranean base, believing that the world above is in the midst of a nuclear war, whilst a man that they trust implicitly manipulates them into wiping out large numbers of the population of the world (who also trust him implicitly) in order to increase his personal power. Tragically, whilst Swann’s group are effectively prisoners, they are kept imprisoned by their trust in Salamander and their belief in his lies, rather than any physically barrier that prevents them from leaving the bunker. The bunker scenes are chillingly effective, thanks partly to the excellent incidental score (courtesy of Bartok), and the plight of its occupants is well conveyed by Colin, who is desperate to see the surface once more, and Swann, whose final betrayal and murder by Salamander is truly pitiful. The sheer anguish in Christopher Burgess’ voice as Swann sees the surface for the first time in five years and realises the extent of Salamander’s betrayal is palpable. 

‘The Enemy of the World’ being a David Whitaker script, the characterisation is excellent from the major characters to the minor ones. The most memorable minor character is Griffin, the garrulous chef at Denes headquarters, whose gloomy utterances provide light relief. Of the major characters, Astrid and Fariah are both effective, as are Denes and the nervous, paranoid Fedorin. Arguably the two best supporting characters however are Donald Bruce and Giles Kent. Both of these are examples of Whitaker’s skill at story telling, as both the viewer’s attitudes to both are first steered in one direction and later confounded. Initially, Colin Douglas’ Donald Bruce is suggested to be a villain; he barges arrogantly into Kent’s offices and is seemingly loyal to Salamander. It gradually becomes clear however that this is not the case; in episode three his orders that Denes be treated with respect whilst under arrest hint that he is both fair and honest, and this is finally confirmed in episode five as the Doctor gains his trust and he proves willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and help to investigate Salamander. His seeming loyalty to Salamander early on is misleading; he is simply determined to do his job properly and to the best of his abilities, and his job is to protect Salamander in the absence of evidence that he has committed a crime. Giles Kent on the other hand, excellently portrayed by Bill Kerr, is the reverse of Bruce in that for most of the story he seems to be on the side of the heroes by virtue of opposing Salamander, until the final episode, where the Doctor tricks him into revealing his part in Salamander’s past schemes by, ironically, employing the very trick that Kent has been trying to persuade him to for most of the story; impersonating Salamander. Kent’s true nature is signposted; early on he arranges for Bruce to call in on him, forcing the Doctor to impersonate Salamander on the spot, which is a risky gambit considering the importance Kent places on the opportunity presented by the Doctor. This suggests that Kent will take desperate measures to achieve his ends. Later, he tries to blackmail the Doctor into executing Salamander in exchange for help saving Jamie and Victoria, a ruthless streak that proves to be his undoing, as it alerts the Doctor to his true nature. This is underplayed however, so that the revelation about Kent’s part in setting up the bunker and his knowledge that Salamander is causing natural disasters is still an effective twist, and this is helped by Benik’s earlier persecution of Kent. 

Benik really deserves a mention. Milton Johns’ portrayal is ludicrously camp, but somehow works. It is perhaps slightly over the top, but Benik is such an unpleasant character that he gets away with it, especially when he threatens to shoot either Jamie or Victoria, to main but not to wound. He so obviously means it that he doesn’t seem remotely amusing, and the same is true when he reacts with obvious frustration to the discovery that someone else has killed Fariah before he could. As Bruce says with disgust at the end, he really is “a nasty little man”. 

The regulars are ever reliable; ironically, Troughton’s dual performance sidelines the Doctor for much of the story, but his staunch refusal to act against Salamander without evidence of a crime contrasts nicely with his ruthless doppelganger. Crucially, he is instrumental in exposing Kent, although he doesn’t actually interfere with Salamander’s plans significantly; it is Swann’s discovery of the newspaper and Astrid’s discovery of Swann that cause his undoing, although Kent’s accidental confession to the Doctor does convince Bruce of Salamander’s crimes. It is fitting that the Doctor and Salamander do get a confrontation, albeit one that is brief and somewhat contrived, tacked on as it is at the very end and in the TARDIS. It does provide a nice cliffhanger into ‘The Web of Fear’ though. Having been terrified by Varga for most of the previous story, Victoria gets something of respite, although being threatened by Benik is undoubtedly unpleasant. Jamie on the other hand gets to play the man of action as he pretends to save Salamander’s life, and the scenes in which he confidentially bluffs his way into Salamander’s employ is a reminder of how useful a companion he is. Overall, ‘The Enemy of the World’ is an oddity, but not an unwelcome one, and Season Five is more than strong enough to cope with an atypical story, especially one as entertaining as this.

The Tomb of the Cybermen’ occupies a unique place in the affections of fandom; whilst missing, it was considered a classic, the Cybermen’s equivalent of ‘The Evil of the Daleks’ and an unqualified success. Then it was rediscovered, released on video, and whilst still regarded as a classic by many, also came under fire from others, with allegations of racism and a convoluted, illogical plot. Personally, having only seen it for the first time when it was recovered, I consider it to be an excellent story, well directed and produced and the best Cybermen television story in Doctor Who’s history. Before I sing its praises in greater detail however, I’ll address its flaws. 

Firstly, the cod American accents adopted by Clive Merrison as Jim Callum and George Roubicek as Captain Hopper are very nearly as bad as those of the Clanton brothers in ‘The Gunfighters’. I can’t really say anything in defense of this; they are thoroughly appalling. Fortunately, both actors are clearly trying very hard in every other respect of their performances, which goes some way towards compensating. Secondly, and most notoriously, there is the racist aspect. Toberman it is often noted, is the only black character, and he is a servant. In addition, Kleig and Kaftan, the other human villains, have Middle Eastern accents, whilst all the other humans are either British or American. Whilst I can’t really deny this, I remain unconvinced that either Pedler or Davis were in some way hate-mongering with this aspect of their script; during the previous two Cybermen stories, an attempt was made to show multinational cooperation in both the Snowcap base and the Moonbase, and whilst most of the actors were white, this is probably due more to the scarcity of black actors in Britain at the time than any ulterior motive on the part of the writers. The fact that Toberman is black and a servant does unfortunately stand out, but it is worth noting that he is a servant and not a slave; unless one assumes that all servants are black at the time in which ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ is set, this need not be interpreted as Pedler and Davis’ vision of the future. At worst, it is a sign of the times in which the story was made and whilst unfortunate, it does not distract from my overall enjoyment of the story. Likewise, Kleig and Kaftan are clearly not British, but then neither was Professor Zaroff; whilst Josef Furst’s accent stood out amongst the English accents of the actors playing the Atlanteans, allegations of racism are seldom leveled against ‘The Underwater Menace’. General Cutler’s instability in ‘The Tenth Planet’ does not generally cause fandom to suggest that Pedler and Davis were suggesting that all Americans are unstable or egomaniacal. In short, the decision to make Kleig and Kaftan accented villains in a British and American party was unwise, but I suggest that it stems from Pedler and Davis’ continuing desire to show multicultural societies in the future rather than any more sinister reasoning. Of course on the other hand, I could be wrong, and this could all just be unreasonable justification on my part of the flaws of a story that I otherwise happen to enjoy. 

In all other respects, ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ has aged well. The acting is generally superb, with all of the human characters far better characterised than the largely forgettable characters of ‘The Tenth Planet’ and ‘The Moonbase’. The addition of a party of traitors to the human group is largely responsible for this, and adds an extra level of danger to the plot. Kleig in particular is an excellent villain, brilliantly portrayed by George Pastell. Initially, he is merely ruthless and short-tempered, so eager to gain access to the Cybermen that he frequently lets his impatience get the better of him and has to be brought up short by Kaftan, icily portrayed by Shirley Cooklin. Just as in ‘The Daleks’ Master Plan’ Karlton occasionally appears to be guiding Mavic Chen, here Kaftan is often seen to direct the more impulsive Klieg, smoothly interceding when he argues with Professor Parry in episode one, and sternly ordering him not to raise his voice in episode two. It is Kaftan also who orders Toberman to wreck the spaceship and thus give Kleig the extra time he needs to access the tombs; when she tells Kleig that he has all the time he requires, he doesn’t know what she is talking about until Hopper enters. As the story progresses, Kleig displays other emotions; it is quickly made clear to him when he first meets the Controller that he has hugely underestimated the Cybermen and he is clearly terrified; when he emerges from the hatch in episode three he is almost on the verge of panic. It is not until Kaftan makes him aware of the potential of the Cybergun however, that he really shows his true colours; having gained some measure of the power he seeks, both over his fellow humans and over the Cybermen, he gives in to megalomania and also starts to demonstrate sadism. Ruthless and greedy though he was from the start, he is visibly corrupted by power and when a Cyberman in the tombs finally kills him, he is literally ranting like a madman. As with Chen however, his earlier doubts and fears mean that he is not just a two-dimensional lunatic, but a more fully realized character. Kaftan exhibits similar flaws, for all that she is more restrained; having been attacked once by a Cybermat, she is easily frightened by the sight of the dead creature in episode three, allowing Hopper and Callum to disarm her. Later, when she discovers what the Cybermen have done to Toberman, she panics and repeatedly fires her gun at the Controller despite the obvious lack of any effect, which results in the Controller killing her. Like her fellow Logician, she gives in to emotion under pressure and it proves to be her undoing. Even Toberman plays a important role; he is clearly very devoted to Kaftan, since his anger at her death allows him to resist the Cybermen’s conditioning, allowing him to first attack the Controller and finally seal the doors of the tombs, trapping the Cybermen within at the cost of his own life. 

The other human characters all serve fulfill their own roles adequately, with Cyril Shaps’ paranoid Viner standing out; he is characterised by his almost constant terror from the moment Hopper’s crewman dies opening the doors to the tombs, and ironically his death results from the fact that his fear of the awakening Cybermen is far greater than his fear of the gun-toting Kleig, who promptly shoots him. Of the regulars, Jamie gets very little to do, but Victoria gets a far more significant role than she did in her début story. Whilst this sadly results in a truly dire piece of acting from Watling as Victoria passes out from Kaftan’s drugged coffee, she is generally as likeable as she was in ‘The Evil of the Daleks’, and once more demonstrates resolve and courage in the face of being trapped in the revitalization chamber and later threatened by Kaftan. It is Victoria of course who saves her friends from the Cybermen by fetching help from the spaceship and persuading Hopper and Callum to open the hatch. Once more however, it is Troughton who really impresses. In addition to the charming scene in which he talks to Victoria about his family, the Doctor is memorable here for being at his most manipulative. I have noted previously how the Second Doctor likes to immerse himself in events, as typified by his refusal to leave the Moon in ‘The Moonbase’ whilst evil remains to be fought; this continues here, as he actually helps Kleig open the tombs (unbeknown to the Logician) apparently because, as he tells Jamie, he wanted to see what Klieg was up to. Curiosity is a well-established characteristic of the Doctor’s right from episode one of ‘The Mutants’ when he employs his gambit with the fluid link to force his companions to let him explore the Dalek city; by this point however, I think that his motives are not limited to satisfying his curiosity. In episode one, he tells Jamie and Victoria that leaving Telos became impossible as soon as the Cybermen were mentioned; I believe that he stays and actively helps Kleig to revive the Cybermen because he knows that they will probably succeed without him and he believes that he is the best hope they have of stopping the Cybermen once they are released. The Doctor is undoubtedly crucial to the defeat of the Cybermen; it is he who destroys the attacking Cybermats, persuades Toberman to attack the revitalized Controller, and eventually seals the tombs once more, more effectively than they originally were. 

Finally, there are the Cybermen themselves. I criticized ‘The Moonbase’ because aspects of the script and plot, coupled with the redesign of the Cybermen since ‘The Tenth Planet’, robbed them of some of their menace; here, it is fully restored. The Cybermen are actually frightening here, advancing remorselessly and with unstoppable strength towards their human victims. Their weird electronic warbling as they attack is strangely sinister, and the scenes of them striding rapidly through the tombs in pursuit of Jamie and the others in episode three are highly effective. Equally notable is the scene in which the Cybermen repeatedly punches the closed hatch from beneath, denting the massive metal lid, and reminding us just how powerful they are; the Cyber Controller’s demolition of the door of the revitalization chamber in episode four is another reminder. The scenes during episode two in which the Cybermen emerge from their tombs accompanied by their familiar and dramatic incidental theme music is one of Doctor Who’s classic moments. The Cyber Controller is an effective addition to the Cybermen’s ranks, and although not quite having the same impact as the Emperor Dalek in ‘The Evil of the Daleks’ it is nevertheless visually impressive. The Cybermats are also memorable, although they never actually seem very dangerous. The Controller’s pronouncement to the horrified Kleig that he will be “altered” and subsequent announcement that the humans will be frozen once more recaptures the horror of dehumanization represented by the Cybermen and largely glossed over during ‘The Moonbase’.

The production values of ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ are generally very high, with superb set designs; the tomb buildings are highly effective, especially the main room with its massive hatch and huge control panel, and also the revitalization chamber. The location filming in episode one is also effective, even if it does look suspiciously like a quarry… ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ succeeds admirably and is a strong start to Season Five.

‘The Abominable Snowmen’ is a story with which I am very familiar; it was one of the earliest novelizations that I read, and I re-read it several times, and later on it was one of the first and better quality bootleg audio recordings of missing stories that I obtained. Despite this, it is a story that I have never tired of, which is all the more impressive for a six-part story. 

First of all, the setting is highly effective. The base-under-siege scenario occurs repeatedly during the Troughton era, but it is almost always used to great effect, and the Det-Sen monastery is one of the more memorable “bases” in question. The concept alone is novel, and it makes for a refreshing change to have story located on Earth in the twentieth century, but outside of England. Based on the surviving episode two, the location work is used well, with Wales doubling fairly convincingly for Tibet, albeit with slightly less snow than I might expect. The studio-bound interiors are even more impressive, and are very convincing, never really looking like sets at all. The Tibetan monks complete the picture, and are well characterised, with a range of different characters amongst them, which creates a feeling that this is a community, rather than merely a collection of stereotypes. Initially, the Monastery contrasts with the freezing and hostile wilderness outside to provide a seemingly safe haven from the marauding Yetis, but as the story progresses and it becomes clear that the real threat lurks within, it equally effectively becomes a far more sinister locale. 

The Yetis themselves are amongst the most memorable monsters of the era. Episode two makes it obvious that they look rather cute, and the story has been criticized for this, but their innocuous appearance contrasts hauntingly with the threat that they actually pose; after all, grizzly bears look rather cute, but are no less dangerous for it. The story opens with the brutal slaying of Traver’s companion on the mountainside, and later the Yetis commit further killings swiftly and efficiently; at the beginning of episode two, Jamie and Victoria watch in horror as the trapped Yeti, not yet revealed to be a robot, thrashes free of the rock fall entombing it, galvanizing them into flight. Ultimately, the viewer is never allowed to forget that they are extremely dangerous. The control spheres also are memorable, and the effect of the beeping sphere rolling along in the monastery in search of a host Yeti is well executed. In spite of this, the Yetis are silent throughout the largely missing ‘The Abominable Snowmen’, which might signpost a story that is destined to failure as an audio story. The fact that it doesn’t is due to the nature of the real monster, the insidiously evil Great Intelligence. The success of the Intelligence is due partly to the scripting by Mervyn Haisman and Henry Lincoln, who portray it as a truly malignant force, keeping Padmasambhava alive in a ghastly cadaverous state for three centuries, whilst he toils away to create the robot Yeti. The concept of the Intelligence, a disembodied, powerful entity that can usurp the human mind is a concept that is often effective, and the particularly malevolent nature of the Intelligence emphasizes this, as it begins to spread, cancerously, across the mountain in episode five. But for all that it is well scripted, the real reason for its success as an antagonist is Wolfe Morris, whose portrayal of both the ancient and exhausted Padmasambhava and the thing possessing him is hugely impressive. During the scenes in which Padmasambhava speaks with his normal voice and begs for an end to the Intelligence’s work, he sounds like the wise and kindly man in whose benevolence the monks believe and whom the Doctor befriended three hundred years previously; when the Intelligence speaks through him and his voice changes to a sibilant hiss, his voice positively drips with evil, and even more so when the voices are combined and the Intelligence speaks to Songsten in a cold, hard version of the old master’s voice. During the final battle as the Intelligence pits itself against the Doctor whilst simultaneously controlling the Yetis and halting Victoria in her tracks, it briefly seems undefeatable, making for a dramatic climax. 

The Doctor is at his best here, with Troughton once more at the peak of his acting powers. The idea of having the story as a partial sequel to an untelevised adventure is effective. Prior adventures have been mentioned before, from Susan’s hints of visits to the French Revolution in ‘100,000 BC’, to the Doctor’s first meeting with the Toymaker, referred to in ‘The Celestial Toymaker’, but never before has the previous visit played such a role as it does here; it is not unusual for the Doctor to walk blithely into danger, but here he does so because he has visited Det-Sen before and expects a warm welcome. The change wrought upon the Monks by the Yeti attacks makes an obvious impression on him, and he seems to respond to the threat more personally than in most of his previous stories as a result. His is deeply concerned and worried when he learns what has been happening, and when he sets about uncovering the menace with the intention of defeating it, he seems to do so more intensely than before. Compare his attitude here with that in ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’; then, he quietly watched and waited, manipulating events to see what Kleig and Kaftan were up to and patiently anticipating the inevitable clash with the Cybermen, seemingly following his usual plan of fighting evil wherever he finds it. Here however, he adopts the task of helping the Monks with fierce determination, and when he finally learns that Padmasambhava is still alive and begins to deduce the true nature of the threat that he faces, he plans to fight the Intelligence with steely resolve. When he sends the Monks away and announces that he will defeat the Intelligence and they will be able to return soon, he allows little room for doubt; he will do what he promises. Unusually too, the final battle goes almost exactly as he intends it too; Jamie and Thomni destroy the control room and thus the Yeti, whilst he occupies the Intelligence and Victoria determinedly chants the Jewel of the Lotus prayer to prevent it from taking full control of her once more. There is no Dalek Factor or reviving Cybercontroller here; the Doctor and his companions head for the inner sanctum to destroy the Yeti and defeat the Intelligence, and that is exactly what they do. 

Jamie and Victoria also benefit well from ‘The Abominable Snowmen’. Jamie is usual resourceful self, and bravely tackles the Yetis even when he knows that they are machines. It is his plan to capture a Yeti that allows the Doctor to examine one, even though it is largely luck that causes the control sphere to be dislodged, and along with Thomni he plays an important role during the climax. As in ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’, Victoria too demonstrates her inquisitiveness and bravery, keen to follow the Yeti footprints in episode one despite Jamie’s misgivings, and eager to explore the Monastery later on. Whereas in the previous story however, she played a crucial role in rescuing her friends from the tombs of the Cybermen by alerting Hopper and Callum to their plight, here she repeatedly pays the price for becoming involved; she is terrified by the Yeti in the cave, and again by the reactivated Yeti in the Monastery, and when she sneaks into the inner sanctum she is hypnotized by the Intelligence and used as a pawn in its attempts to persuade the Doctor to leave. Whilst the Doctor is able to undo this, he makes it clear to Jamie that unless he is very careful she is in great danger of lasting damage. Overall, Victoria’s experiences here are the first sign that the novelty of travelling in the TARDIS is already beginning to wear off…

In addition to Wolfe Morris, the guest cast also performs well. Jack Watling’s gruff Travers is the most notable, initially mistrusting of the Doctor and so single minded in his quest to find the real Yetis that on first viewing he might seem destined to be meet an untimely end, as is often the case with Doctor Who’s more determined supporting characters (Lesterson springs to mind). He soon befriends the Doctor and his companions however, and proves to be a likeable character, ready to admit his previous mistakes, and brave enough to stay at the Monastery to help out despite having been frightened by the shapeless form of the Intelligence in the cave and despite being offered the chance to leave safely with the Monks. His integrity is also suitably rewarded, as he spots a real Yeti during the final scene on the mountain. The ever-reliable Norman Jones’ Khrisong is another character that initially distrusts the Doctor and is so ruthless in his determination to protect his fellow Monks that he almost seems to be a villain; like Travers, he redeems himself and places his trust in the Doctor, but unlike Travers he becomes a victim of the Intelligence, slain by the normally gentle Songsten. The Abbot is also well portrayed; most notable is his quiet assertion to the Doctor that wants to help him find the answers in episode five. Hypnotised and turned into a puppet, he commits acts of evil under the control of the Intelligence, but in that single line, as the Doctor breaks the shocked Abbot’s conditioning, we get a powerful indication that trapped inside is a good man desperate to be free of the monstrous force controlling him. Mention must also be made of Thomni; whilst Khrisong’s paranoia and fierce devotion to duty blinds him to the Doctor’s protestations of innocence in the first two episodes, it is Thomni who is prepared to listen and who finds the Ghanta hidden in the Doctor’s cell, thus convincing the Monks that the Doctor is a friend and securing his release. Later, his friendship with Victoria and the hints that he really rather likes her are quite touching, and his quiet determination to stay and help the Doctor to defend his home further distinguish the character. 

In summary, ‘The Abominable Snowmen’ is another superb Troughton story. Despite being six episodes long, it never feels padded and the novel setting and eminently recognizable monsters make it stand out in a strong season.

Coming at the end of Season Five, ‘The Wheel in Space’ ends the season not with a bang, but with a whimper. It is hard to believe that the man responsible for writing ‘The Power of the Daleks’, ‘The Evil of the Daleks’ and ‘The Enemy of the World’ is responsible for this, and it is tempting to lay the blame at the door of Kit Pedler, who provided the basic story. Unfortunately, some of the story’s deficiencies are script related, which rather undermines this theory. 

‘The Wheel in Space’ does some things right. For the most part, the characterisation is up to David Whitaker’s usual standard, with Gemma Corwyn and Leo Ryan standing out. Bill Duggan and Flanagan also come across well. Unfortunately, the major weak link is Jarvis Bennett, who is the archetypal unstable base commander. I could excuse Robson in ‘Fury From the Deep’, because it seemed as though he had reasonable leadership qualities under normal circumstances, but quite how Bennett got his job is beyond me. Firstly, there is his reaction to the Silver Carrier. Surely, blowing up seemingly abandoned spacecraft out of hand is not a good idea? For starters, if it really had wandered millions of miles off course, there might be something to be learned from trying to find out why exactly this has happened. Not to mention trying to recover any bodies from it, if only to find out what happened to the crew, about whom somebody somewhere must care. His justification for this pyromania is that the ship might at any time crash into the wheel, but if he’s worried about this, why doesn’t he have the crewmembers that he sends to rescue Jamie and the Doctor break into the locked control cabin and make sure that this isn’t going to happen? Because they’d discover the Cybermen and the rest of the plot would have to be rewritten, that’s why. Consequently, Jarvis is portrayed as an idiot who likes blowing things up, and thus not the sort of man that should be in charge of a remote space station. His later breakdown on learning of the Cybermen is also astronomically fast; the fact that the crew all have capsules implanted to detect mind control suggests that the crew’s training at least allows for the possibility of hostile action from some party or other, so his complete inability to even deal with the possibility is absurd. Frankly, Jarvis is an unnecessary plot contrivance. 

Would that Jarvis were the only problem with ‘The Wheel in Space’ however: the actions of the Cybermen are beyond belief. Their plot to gain control of the wheel is ridiculously over-complicated and raises the question of why they don’t just take it by force. After all, they can get Cybermats on board. And even if they couldn’t, they can destroy entire stars, so I find it hard to believe that the Wheel’s defenses pose a problem. The excuse given in the script is that they need to destroy the crew’s ability to send messages, but it’s a fairly flimsy excuse. Since their ship approaches whilst the laser is functioning, its defenses are presumably enough to protect it, had the Doctor not wired the time vector generator into the works, so they may as well have just attacked out right; I find it hard to believe that if they can blow up stars they can’t block transmissions from the Wheel. Why all the rubbish with the Bernalium rods when they need the Wheel’s laser to function? Why not just hijack the Silver Carrier, pilot it to the Wheel, send an automated distress signal, and take over the minds of the rescue party? Ironically, their preferred method would have caused them to be blown up if Jamie hadn’t unexpectedly been on board and able to send a signal to the Wheel. And then there is the aforementioned business with the star. Now I can suspend disbelief when watching Doctor Who, but even with only a basic grasp of astrophysics I can spot twaddle. As The Discontinuity Guide points out, blowing up a star in a different galaxy not only wouldn’t affect the Wheel that quickly, it wouldn’t affect it at all. Perhaps the Cybermen’s control device (which I’m going to refer to hereafter as the Cyber Co-ordinator) isn’t well schooled in the field either. Perhaps it’s taking the piss. That might explain why it gets the name of the Silver Carrier wrong…

There are other problems with ‘The Wheel in Space’. Bill Duggan sees a Cybermat and decides to dismiss it as a space bug. Now even assuming that he’s so stupid that he can’t see that it has obviously been built by someone, I find it astonishing that he just ignores it. It could be the space equivalent of a rat, or a locust. Surely it’s worth reporting? Just in case? The actual use of the Cybermen seems pointless, as for the first time they are truly reduced to the role of generic robots form outer space. This can work if the story is decent enough, but here it isn’t. Even the Doctor, who has met them at least three times, tells the crew that the Cybermen need the mineral treasures of Earth. Surely they need the human population of Earth? They’re Cybermen, it’s the whole point of them. A bad script and plot can sometimes be partly rescued by decent production values, but the production here is lacklustre to say the least. There are some nice aspects; the corridors in the Wheel are quite nicely designed to avoid looking generically functional, and the redesigned Cybermats look much more sleek and deadly than in ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’. They also get to kill someone, which makes them seem dangerous for the first time, and their ability to fire some kind of invisible beam from their eyes works quite well. I also have a soft-spot for the bulbous Servo-robot too, although this is another plot contrivance; there is no actual reason why the Cybermen couldn’t just stay awake and pilot the rocket themselves (I know, their trying to conserve power but the robot clearly needs to be powered instead, so…), but if they had (a) Jamie and the Doctor would be real trouble in episode one, and (b) the cliff-hanger to episode two would be blown. The actual Cybermen however don’t really benefit from being redesigned. The teardrop shape cut into the eye sockets looks quite good, but the one in their mouths somehow makes them look like slack-jawed imbeciles. Which would actually fit in with their silly plan, I suppose. Their new voices are a bit weak and lack the impact of their predecessors, which seems unnecessary since the Co-ordinator actually retains the voice used for the Cybermen in ‘The Moonbase’ and ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’. The space walk sequence doesn’t do them any favours either, as the actors involved appeared to have decided to make them look like ballet enthusiasts. 

The costumes of the Wheel personnel don’t look too bad. The model work varies; the Wheel is passable, the Silver Carrier is rubbish, and the Cyber ship is really rather good and avoids the cheap saucer designs of ‘The Tenth Planet’ and ‘The Moonbase’. Most of the sets on board the Silver Carrier and the Wheel are poor, and contrast strangely with the less-functional looking corridors I mentioned above. So amidst all this dross, is there anything good about ‘The Wheel in Space’?

Actually, yes. The plot device used to separate the Doctor and Jamie from the TARDIS (the time vector generator) is quite novel, although I find it hard to believe that after the trouble he had during ‘The Mutants’, the Doctor doesn’t keep spare stocks of mercury (as a lab worker, with knowledge of current safety regulations, it’s also quite funny to see a jar of mercury just sitting about on a bench in the Wheel – we aren’t even allowed to buy mercury thermometers anymore!). As usual in a Cyberman story initiated by Kit Pedler, there is a well-intentioned attempt to show international cooperation on board the Wheel, but this inevitably results in some dubious accents, most notably Chang’s. Troughton gets some lovely character moments, including his obvious guilt and distress when Leo Ryan tells him off for engendering Jamie and Zoe in episode six, and when he quietly talks the Cybermen in the same episode and then calmly electrocutes one of them. He’s also visibly affected by the death of Gemma Corwyn, for whom he quickly develops respect during the earlier part of the story. Jamie also gets to do more than just fight too, as he is forced to look after the concussed Doctor early on. He works out how to use the Time Vector Generator to signal for help, and also comes up with a cover story to explain why they were on board the rocket in the first place. Gemma sees straight through it of course, but he tries his best. And the fact that she realises that he is reluctantly lying says a great deal about his basically honest character. His rapidly developing friendship with Zoe is also convincingly scripted and acted and establishes the new companion team nicely. Zoe is initially rather irritating, but as she is forced to face up to the problems of her training and comes to realize that she needs to develop emotionally, she becomes a good choice for a companion. In stark contrast to Victoria, whom the Doctor took under his wing because she had nowhere else to go, Zoe is keen to join the Doctor on his travels, even after having encountered the Cybermen. This bodes well for the new TARDIS dynamic. 

Finally, despite the plot holes and the fact that it feels horribly padded, ‘The Wheel in Space’ does at least achieve an air of suspense from the moment that the TARDIS materialises on board the Silver Carrier. This is partly due to the unobtrusive but effective incidental score, but is largely due to the director making the most of a bad job. There are also one or two nice moments, my favourite being the vaguely pointless but visually effective sequence of the Cybermen “hatching” at the end of episode two (or rather, at the start of episode three, which is of course how I was able to see it!). Overall however, the good points of ‘The Wheel in Space’ don’t manage to outweigh the bad, and it proves to be a disappointing end to what is otherwise one of my favourite seasons in Doctor Who’s history.