The time is ripe for reappraising the 1996 TVM. It's no longer our Last Hope For The Future, but no less importantly it's no longer The End. Doctor Who survived, thanks to Russell T. Davies. These days, the TVM is that oddity from 1996 that writes out Sylvester McCoy between Survival and Rose. We can fit it into a greater context and hopefully see it more level-headedly.

I always kinda liked it, but watching it in sequence with its neighbouring Who stories was an eye-opener. It's not very good, is it? There's a lot to like in the production, but the script is bollocks. In fact it's the most incoherent gibberish ever to get through the Doctor Who TV production process, which is no small claim. The first half-hour is an extended epilogue to the McCoy era, albeit a charming one, with the real story only beginning once the Doctor and the Master have their new bodies. The Doctor decides he needs a MacGuffin (the beryllium clock - WHY???) and the world gets destroyed and saved by screenwriter whim. I nearly said technobbable, but we're not even given that much. Matthew Jacobs has some strange ideas about time machines, but what's more thought them so self-explanatory that justification was unnecessary. You'd have to tie your brain in knots to explain what happened. It's not beyond the wit of fan, but I'd sooner try to rationalise UNIT dating.

Russell T. Davies had a go at redeeming it in Boom Town and The Parting of the Ways, though.

It's interesting in a continuity context. Some of the 8th Doctor's traits were foreshadowed under Cartmel. The 7th Doctor mentions his family in Curse of Fenric and leaves notes for himself in Battlefield, which although it's a much lesser cheat could be seen as leading up to the TVM's (mis)use of time travel. Furthermore, McGann's kisses now seem to lead in to the Eccleston era, e.g. The Doctor Dances. The TVM even has our last mention of Gallifrey before the Time War, in a respectful homage that's a more fitting farewell than the messy Trial of a Time Lord.

However the Master being tried and executed on Skaro, to be taken back to Gallifrey? Huh? Whassat? Russell T. Davies's Time War can be interpolated into Dalek stories from Genesis onwards, and the TVM adds a further perspective to that. Dunno what it means, though!

Despite everything, I'm still fond of the TVM. It cares about its characters and works its little socks off to give them snappy scenes and a good joke or two. Its heart is in the right place, even if its brain isn't. "Half-human" indeed. It's amiable and good-natured. Most importantly, it feels like the work of someone who loves Doctor Who, rather than someone who thinks the show was a bit crap and needed more ass-kicking and macho one-liners.

It gets the Doctor right. He's compassionate, whimsical and Doctorish, with some wonderful moments ("I'll shoot myself" or "these shoes: they fit perfectly"). Back in 1996 we were full of praise for Paul McGann, but I'm inclined to give more credit to the script. The actor's having fun, but I came away with a stronger impression of Matthew Jacobs's Doctor than I did of the actor's. Probably McGann's most distinctive moment is the bit near the end where he's showing off at the TARDIS console. Curiously his performance spoke to me more of the Earth Arc Doctor than the "hello birds, hello sky" congenital idiot of the early 8DAs. His cold, pale eyes make him feel remote and distant. I'm thinking particularly of his unreadable expression as he looks back at Grace from the TARDIS doors before disappearing at the end.

In contrast, Sylvester McCoy gets hung out to dry! Lunatics have called it his best performance as the Doctor. Bollocks is it. The script gives him nothing to play with. There's nothing wrong with him here and McCoy gets to demonstrate his forte of physical acting, but it could be seen as a flaw that this movie's lead character is almost entirely passive and silent until he dies. Eccleston's first two minutes in the role gave him more to do.

Daphne Ashbrook holds the film together as Grace. If she hadn't been so strong and vivid, this would have been well-nigh unwatchable. Yee Jee Tso is also fun, but for me the star of the show is Eric Roberts. He may be camping it up somewhat, but how exactly is that inappropriate for the Master? Don't try to tell me that Roger Delgado and Anthony Ainley were never tongue-in-cheek. I might have liked this Master to be scarier, e.g. when killing Chang Lee, but Roberts is clearly having a ball and he's always fun to watch. He has charm and wit, which are important. I love his ad-libs and comedy byplay in the ambulance, for instance. His banter with Chang Lee always makes me chuckle.

Seriously, the Roberts Master may have his critics but things could have been much worse. Consider his shades. Sunglasses are great if you want to look imposing and impassive (e.g. the Terminator), but fortunately Roberts chose to play against them instead of relying on them. Imagine the Master being played as an American Schwarzenegger wannabe in black leather and shades, then shudder. I also enjoy watching the Master's gradual disintegration, from "I had trouble with the walking and the talking" all the way to becoming Dracula destroyed by sunlight. As an aside, no classic series story ever painted him more clearly as the anti-Doctor, with their personal stories paralleled at every point (resurrected together, acquiring new companions together, etc.).

On a production level, obviously the TVM is stunning. The "Oh My God" console room is still my all-time favourite, beating the Eccleston version by virtue of being so damn beautiful. Geoffrey Sax's direction is wonderful, with at least one sequence (the Doctor's regeneration intercut with clips from James Whale's 1931 Frankenstein and scored with a heartbeat) that's worth the entry price all by itself. Ooooh, that's good. Admittedly I cringe at Fat Comedy Guy's "Oh My God" shortly afterwards, but you can't have everything.

The incidental music is terrific all round, in fact. In what's surely a first for the show, three people get an "Incidental Music" credit. At its best it complements the visuals as well as anything we'd ever seen, though I'm not wild about the new arrangement of the theme music. It sounds nice and I like the twinkly piano bit, but it treats Ron Grainer's original as just another tune to be scored for an orchestra. The results are too melodious. It's just another American TV theme, not haunting or wailing. The trumpet section needs shooting, and as for the very end of the closing titles...

Interestingly not only do all four lead characters die and get reborn, but so does the whole world! You can't accuse them of not following through on their theme of resurrection and rebirth.

I like the resonances and ironies in the story. For example it's not bullets that kill the 7th Doctor, but simply being an alien among humans. I enjoy the religious imagery too. The kisses make me roll my eyes, but they don't matter. In 1996 Doctor Who fell into the hands of Americans and the results may not have been perfect, but Jean-Marc Lofficier's The Nth Doctor showed that things could have been much, much worse. It's a bit stupid, but charming.

“The Dominators” is a story which sadly, by today’s standards has aged pretty badly. The Dulcian’s outfits have to be some of the most ridiculous costumes ever seen in Doctor Who, and poor Wendy Padbury spends her first proper story as a companion stuck in one of them! Even the Quarks, which tend to be remembered rather fondly in fan circles (and recently were nostalgically mentioned in the Big Finish audio drama, “Flip-Flop”) are at best amusing – they certainly aren’t any sort of convincing threat. The two Dominators themselves are the best thing about the story; their costumes are almost respectable (which helps) but more importantly they are entertaining villains. I really enjoyed their constant bickering; the subordinate Dominator’s blood lust and his commander’s more rational, focused attitude clash splendidly and make for some good drama, especially in the final episode.

Renowned ‘Yeti’ creators Mervyn Haisman and Henry Lincoln requested that their names be taken off this story after Derrick Sherwin had finished script-editing it. This serial certainly isn’t a patch on “The Abominable Snowmen” or “The Web of Fear”; but a few pacing issues aside, Sherwin can’t be blamed for what is basically a very bland storyline. The plot is good vs evil at its most basic. The Dulcians are pacifists – so annoyingly so that the viewer almost wants the Dominators to win! – and the Dominators are warmongers, plain and simple. They plan to fire rockets down bore holes, causing an eruption of the molten core of Dulkis turning the planet into a radioactive mass - fuel for their space fleet. Admittedly, it’s not quite as bad as it sounds – the utter cruelty of the Dominators combined with some very amusing performances from Patrick Troughton and Frazer Hines give the story a bit a life, but at the end of the day it is hardly classic Doctor Who. The story’s greatest triumph (except maybe the Doctor using the sonic screwdriver as a flamethrower!) is the writers having Jamie save the day, only to be ridiculed by his disbelieving companions!

“Jamie! It’s a brilliant plan! I just can’t see how you could have come up with it!”

After five episodes, “The Dominators” mercifully ends on a surprisingly effective cliff-hanger; a volcanic eruption on the island engulfing the TARDIS, leading directly into a much, much better Doctor Who serial…

Along with Remembrance Of The Daleks, this is a story I find inexplicably popular among die-hard fans of the series. It is admittedly nice to see the origins of the Daleks, and it is a story which lingers on in the memory, but so many of the elements fall flat that I can’t help but feel that it could have been done so much better.

I have to admit, I’m not a Terry Nation fan, and nowhere more clearly are his limitations demonstrated as in Genesis. His dialogue is functional and characterisation for the most part non-existent. There were genuine opportunities for warmth and camaraderie – Sarah and her fellow rocket escapees, for example – but were wasted by characters saying what had to be said and nothing more. In short, Genesis Of The Daleks is six episodes of relentless exposition. So many of the characters are stony-faced militarists that there is little for most of the actors to do other than state things, making it a rather shouty episode.

And that all makes it rather hard to care about any of it. Neither side in the war shows much in the way of humanity; even obligatory girl-solider Bettan could have been anyone, and the poor actress doesn’t get much to do with the lines she’s given. The fey Star Trek blondies of the original Dalek story have gone to be replaced by just more bog-standard soldiers. The Kaleds dress up like Nazis and talk in a clipped way, but don’t particularly distinguish themselves other than that.

There’s too much padding – the rocket climb is one of the most pointless subplots in the history of Doctor Who. Everyone is far too gullible in episodes five and six. The Nazi symbolism is way too obvious… it would be far more effective in my opinion to have allowed the apparent ‘evil’ of the Kaleds to speak for itself rather than rely on lazy shorthand, particularly Himmler-a-like Nyder.

That said, Davros is a good new character and the leads are as marvelous as ever – particularly Tom Baker, who has to inject Doctoriness into the flattest and most functional of Terry Nation’s dialogue.

A couple more points: from reading reviews of the story on this and other sites, it seems there are a couple of commonly-held fallacies floating about. Firstly that the Doctor chickens out of destroying the embryonic Daleks himself and leaves the wires on the floor for the Daleks to trigger the explosion. From watching it again, it’s pretty clear that the Doctor just get spooked by the Daleks and drops the wires (silly boy). Secondly, it’s often pointed out that a thousand years is rather a long time to dig out a blocked tunnel. Actually, the Doctor is referring to the evolution of the Daleks in the destroyed incubators. In the event, he’s proven wrong anyway as Davros isn’t quite as exterminated as we are led to believe…

Doctor Who’s fifth season will forever be remembered for the debut of two new sets of monsters – The Ice Warriors, who would show up in the next story, and the Yeti. “The Abominable Snowmen” was such a big hit with the viewing public that a sequel for later in the season was immediately commissioned, and whilst many don’t reckon this six-parter to be quite as good as it’s moody sequel, “The Web of Fear,” this story is still one of Troughton’s best and is a fantastic introduction to the Great Intelligence and their monstrous servants. Being the first story of fifth production block, this serial was afforded the luxury – still rare at this point in the series’ history – of a week’s location filming, which took place in Snowdonia, North Wales, at the start of September 1967. In the existing episode and the telesnaps from this story, the location footage looks superb on screen – the money really shows!

“There’s a great deal of difference between the Highlands and the Himalayas, Jamie” 

“Aye. They’re bigger.”

The first few episodes of the serial are slow moving, but nevertheless compelling. The surviving second episode (available on the Lost in Time DVD) probably isn’t the best showcase for the story, as the episode is bogged down for long periods in the Detsen Monastery, but even so the slow build-up allows the audience time to really get to know the characters, and they are a particularly fascinating bunch! Travers, the explorer, is played by Jack Watling (Deborah Watling’s father) who brings a lot of weight to the role and Krisong (Norman Jones), is also especially memorable as the warrior monk who takes an instant dislike to the Doctor and his companions. The serial follows the tried-and-tested plot formula where the Doctor is initially suspected of wrongdoing and then eventually earns the trust of the people who initially suspect him, and although it has been done time after time throughout the series it never works better than it does here. To see the Doctor finally win over Travers, Krisong and the monks is wonderful to watch.

Unfortunately much of the story has little dialogue and is therefore difficult to enjoy on audio alone. Moreover, a lot of the gags are purely visual – for example, the Doctor and Victoria mistake the Doctor for a “hairy beastie” early on, as does Professor Travers, who initially thinks that the Doctor may have attacked him (when in fact it was a Yeti.) Fortunately, when listened to in synch with the telesnaps one can follow the story far easier – my DIY reconstruction just about does the job!

Jamie has a great story, even by his high standards, and is at the heart of most of the action. One of my strongest memories of the Terrance Dicks’ Target novelisation that I read years and years ago is the underlying humour in the story, and Jamie is at the centre of most of that too. Along with the Doctor, the pair of them have some immortal one-liners: “They came to get their ball back”; “Bung a rock at it”; need I go on? Victoria, however, demonstrates exactly why she has the reputation as the helpless ‘screaming young girl’ companion. She does strike out on her own for a large chunk of the story – in the fourth episode, for example, it is Victoria that discovers that the High Lama Padmasambhava is possessed by the Great Intelligence – but even so she spends far too much time running around and screaming for my liking! 

The last half of the story is much more action packed than the beginning. The Yeti rampage through the Abbey; the Doctor confronts what is left of his old friend, Padmasambhava; and we are treated to an explosive ending that sees the Doctor immobilise the Yeti, but only at great cost. Songsten, Krisong, Padmasambhava, scores of monks… all lost. Despite the tremendous loss of life though, the story still manages to end with another lovely little moment of comedy, with Jamie declaring that he wants to go somewhere ‘warmer’ next time – blissfully unaware that he is on course for the second ice age! – and Travers discovering a real Yeti, a shy and timid creature!

As usual, the reviews I read in here really surprise me sometimes. After having heard so much fan-bashing of this particular yarn, I'm amazed so many of you actually stood up for it here. 

I try to be of two legitimate minds regarding Silver Nemesis. I try to see the flaws so many critics have pointed out regarding this story and, at the same time, see all the fun and enjoyment there is out of just sitting back and enjoying the adventure. I fail miserably at the "seeing the flaws" aspect of the equation and just enjoy this story for what it is. An action tale that actually plays out pretty good. 

Yes, the weather is inaccurate for November. Yes, the humour is a bit hackneyed in places. Yes, it tries too hard to just play up being a "25th anniversary tale" (the whole "25th anniversary schtick" never sat well with me - I really preferred it when the show just celebrates the decades and that's it). I can see all that. I can even see the Cyberman not being able to hit the side of a barn in that one scene where Ace runs off. 

But still, overall, I really think this is a pretty good story. A bit weak by the standards of most the McCoy stories, but still pretty damned good overall. 

Obviously, the action sequences are some of the best parts. With the "Mexican stand-off" with Ace and the three Cybermen at the end being truly magnificent stuff that really re-inforces Ace as one of the great sci-fi heroines of the ages. In the old, sexist world of Who, this would have been either the Doctor or a male companion handling this. So great that it's a teenaged girl instead! 

The "deeper mysteries" that the story dwells upon are another excellent strongpoint to this story. The hints made about the Doctor's origins in "Remembrance" are so bloody subtle that you really almost don't catch them. It was nice for the mystery of the Doctor to get played up as much as it does in this story. Although I just stated a paragraph or two back that I wasn't a big fan of the whole "25th anniversary motif" that they were going for in this season, I do like that part of this plan was to re-invent the Doctor's past again and change him back into a bit of an enigma. And the emphasis on this in Nemisis is strong. It is still a bit of a crying shame that the "Cartmel Masterplan" could not be completed onscreen. "Lungbarrow" was an okay read but I would have liked to have seen at as a T.V. episode.

Next, we have the "players in the game" for the Silver Nemesis. The Nazis are a tad wooden (but then, Nazis would be, wouldn't they?) but I really enjoyed Peinforte and even the extremely gold-vulnerable Cybermen. The way the Doctor plays them off each other and manipulates them to his ultimate goals (he knew that Peinforte absorbing herself into the Nemesis would get the Validium to destroy the fleet even though the Cybermen cancelled his orders - did you catch that?) shows off, again, just how truly deadly he is as the "cosmic chess player". And shows it off in a different way than he did in Remembrance. By the way, in my book, there are enough differences in these two tales to say they're not entirely the same even though some of you love to harp on this idea. To me, the reason why there are so many similiarities between the two is because the Doctor wanted to set some things up that would "take a good chunk" out of his two worst enemies. And he knew that to entice them with some highly powerful Gallifreyan artefacts would be the best way to do it. And I can't believe how many of you love to bitch about these two stories resembling each other. Re-watch Season eight and see how each story is just the Master tampering with something he can't truly control, almost getting destroyed by it at the end and the Doctor steps in and saves the day on the spin of a coin! This was five stories in a row, more or less, plotted exactly the same. Why do I never hearing bitching about this?! 

Anyway, I digress. There are many truly wonderful moments in this story where I find myself in "geek paradise". The Cybermen hearing jazz on the transmitter, Ace and the Doctor stopping to enjoy the jazz themselves', the glorious moment where the Doctor "plays chess" with the Cybermen and activates Nemisis with the bow and then charges off. Those are just to name a few. But, what stops this story from being a true classic like Remembrance is that it also "clangs" quite badly in places too. The Nazis not bothering to see if the bow is still in the box being one of the worst ones. A bit reminiscent of Guy Crawford and the eyepatch in "Android Invasion"! 

Overall, I consider this a story with some very "classic moments" in it that don't quite come together properly enough to give it the rank of a "classic story". But, by no means do I consider it "shite" like some of the others on this page have!

Our knowledge of the Aztecs dates from CortezпїЅs landing, and so in choosing to set his story before then John Lucarotti sails into murky waters. The Aztecs brushes the surface of the period, name checking all the famous bits you learned about at school (human sacrifice, lack of the wheel, cocoa), pairing off each member of the regular cast with one well-known facet of Aztec society. Lucarotti is a writer of such awesome talent though that he takes these broad sweeps and turns them into much more, and the result is that the viewer becomes totally immersed in the period.

The opening scene bears all the hallmarks of the early William Hartnell episodes, with a leisurely exploration of the new location and a lecture from the science / history teacher (delete as applicable). ItпїЅs likeable, as scenes featuring Jacqueline Hill invariably are, but the obvious pattern that it follows in the context of the era as a whole makes it slightly hard to get into; thereпїЅs a definite feeling that Lucarotti is more comfortable with the freewheeling quasi-Elizabethan dialogue he gives to the Aztecs (for some reason) than with the mundane, everyday speech of the regulars. All this matters little as soon as the Doctor and Ian emerge from the TARDIS, the mighty Williams Hartnell and Russell forming пїЅ along with Hill пїЅ possibly the best ever Doctor / Companion grouping.

Initially the hidden doorway points to a swashbuckling serial of high adventure, and AutlocпїЅs arrival makes for a pleasing contrast to expectations as Keith Pyott gently underplays his poetic lines. This is in stark contrast to John RinghamпїЅs manic, almost cartoon-like portrayal of Tlotoxl, which works because for all its energy it never descends into a send-up. Ringham has stated in interviews that his performance owes a heavy debt to Richard III, as if we needed that pointed out, and on the whole The Aztecs smacks of a proto-Post-modern version of Shakespeare throughout. ThereпїЅs also some incidental amusement to be had in seeing the rest of the cast doing verbal backflips in their tortuous attempts at pronouncing the characterпїЅs name. ThereпїЅs a great moment of direction when heпїЅs first introduced, as the camera sweeps sideways following the regulars, only to reverse direction and bring him suddenly and shockingly into view; I single that out as for the most part John CrockettпїЅs direction is fairly leaden and it feels very much like he comes from a theatrical background, as characters tend to face the camera rather than each other as they speak.

ItпїЅs strange that Autloc suggests that the human sacrifices should end long before Barbara shows any influence on him; in a way it negates his character as it means that the development thatпїЅs written for him doesnпїЅt actually exist. Yet in some ways it expresses the brilliance of the story in that something so simple at its heart becomes, over the course of the four episodes, something so magnificently rich all the same.

If thereпїЅs criticism of The Aztecs, very often it takes the form of пїЅpeople only like it because Marco Polo and The Massacre are missing.пїЅ I consider the suggestion that somehow thereпїЅs a block on judging this story by its own standards rather absurd, and for the record I saw this long before I had any knowledge of LucarottiпїЅs other work пїЅ I loved it then, and I love it now. But I will acknowledge that Marco Polo is the superior story, and I can only wish that Waris Hussein had helmed this instead of John Crockett since the studio-recorded fight scenes are laughable; the lack of editing facilities mean that thereпїЅs no attempt at hiding the fact that the actors are desperately trying not to break their balsa wood clubs.

Margot van der Burgh is charming as Cameca and her scenes with Hartnell are a joy, all taking place in Barry NewberyпїЅs excellent garden set. ThereпїЅs been criticism here too of the Doctor getting too involved himself while warning Barbara not to, but thatпїЅs a key part of the first seasonпїЅs character arc: the Doctor blunders in and causes trouble because he doesnпїЅt apply the rules to himself. This is the episode where he gets the shock to his system that snaps him out of it: both in hurting Cameca, and in seeing BarbaraпїЅs failure. That the regulars actually get involved is one of the storyпїЅs great features, as many other historicals (particularly the otherwise-excellent The Crusade) are slightly let down by the way the regulars become little more than audience members who have wandered in front of the cameras. In The Aztecs, part of the subtlety and richness that we see comes from Lucarotti using the necessarily limited portrayal of the period to show us the regulars as much as the Aztecs themselves. From BarbaraпїЅs point of view the idea of changing history isnпїЅt important; in this story itпїЅs the desire to change it that matters, and I think that makes it all the more interesting. It certainly leads to the extraordinary confrontation between the Doctor and Barbara, possibly one of the best scenes ever. The DoctorпїЅs assertion of пїЅbelieve me, I knowпїЅ is an early hint at the darkness of his past.

ThereпїЅs a real sense of culture shock in this story, which really tries to deal with the reality of how someone would react if they were transported back four hundred years. Barbara reacts to it reasonably well in the end and has a good moment answering TlotoxlпїЅs questions, and пїЅwhat if thieves walk among the Gods?пїЅ is a great line.

HereпїЅs where the episodeпїЅs credibility takes a massive blow though, as it turns out all of a sudden that mild-mannered science teacher Ian happens to be a martial arts expert. This is one of the hugest contrivances of all time, and while the fact that itпїЅs only ever mentioned in this episode means that it doesnпїЅt come across as quite so huge it does make it even less plausible. Thanks to William Russell itпїЅs still oddly likeable, but IanпїЅs line of пїЅI wonпїЅt kill you this timeпїЅ пїЅ to the Aztec warrior chief, no less пїЅ is funny for all the wrong reasons and docks this episode, in isolation, several points. However, it does herald the beginning of a more focussed plot as Tlotoxl and Ixta begin to scheme together.

Frequently in this story conversations are overheard, characters go off with each other for clandestine asides, and overly-convenient family connections emerge (Ixta being the temple-builderпїЅs son) that really highlight the episodeпїЅs Shakespearian roots. Broadcasting its influences so blatantly gives The Aztecs more of a sense of fun than other episodes, and the nightmare that faces Barbara seems all the more disturbing as a consequence. The two disparate elements of pastiche and serious drama hang together though, largely because of the reverence with which itпїЅs all treated. The exception is CamecaпїЅs ridiculous line of пїЅin bliss is quenched my thirsty heartпїЅ, which takes the episode temporarily far beyond the realms of parody.

Episode twoпїЅs battle between Ian and Ixta has a certain climatic feel to it, and episode three has a very пїЅsecond halfпїЅ feel with new elements added to the plot, such as the impending eclipse and SusanпїЅs arranged marriage to the Perfect Victim. Equally the characters gain some new material, as Ian explains to Barbara that sheпїЅs seeing Tlotoxl as the unusual one when really he isnпїЅt. ItпїЅs followed by another fantastically enjoyable scene as Tlotoxl and Tonila try to make Barbara drink poisoned wine. The third episode nicely combines all the different elements of the story: the tunnel into the temple gives us the high adventure the beginning suggested, while the DoctorпїЅs accidental engagement to Cameca lightens the tone; meanwhile, AutlocпїЅs shocked question to Barbara that пїЅyou would sacrifice us to save your handmaiden pain?пїЅ never lets us forget the awful situation she has made for herself. This episode also gives us the first real cliffhanger, as the others seem more like story breaks with something dramatic added on as an afterthought to make up the requirements.

Episode four (or should that be Act IV?) shows just how useless the regularsпїЅ well-intentioned plans are as they are forced to simply abandon their mistakes rather than to try to make amends for them and risk further damage, and AutlocпїЅs line of пїЅwe are a doomed peopleпїЅ really shows the implications of non-interference. The plot to frame Ian for the attack on Autloc shows up TlotoxlпїЅs human motivations as well as his religious ones, which dampen his character slightly as they make him an ordinary villain, rather than someone who just happens to be convinced that their beliefs are true. However, he does have one more fantastic speech, talking about how he wants to seal пїЅthe false YetaxaпїЅ in a room without doors.

I gather the final battle (helped by being film-recorded) is supposed to be climax, but for me the more significant scene is the utterly sublime coda between the Doctor and Barbara. I can only imagine with horror how this scene would be played these days, with the two of them crying in each othersпїЅ arms while Murray Gold drenches the scene in stringsпїЅhere we have a quiet, understated exchange: пїЅWe failed, didnпїЅt we?пїЅ пїЅYes we did. We had to.пїЅ And not forgetting the final message, пїЅyou failed to save a civilisation, but at least you helped one man.пїЅ And as if that wasnпїЅt enough, look at the DoctorпїЅs final moments: he sadly leaves behind his memento of Cameca, and then at the last minute changes his mind and goes back for it. IпїЅm normally a cynical old duffer about this sort of thing, but something about how understated it is makes me all warm inside.

ItпїЅs a shame that The Aztecs has developed a reputation as being a poor manпїЅs Marco Polo, and I feel that if LucarottiпїЅs other episodes were found it might become more popular as people would stop these incessant and spurious comparisons. As it is, taken on its own terms, The Aztecs is utterly gorgeous and IпїЅm eternally glad that it survives.