The Hand of Fear is something of a roller coaster ride for fans, as we dip fairly frequently between good and bad writing, decent and below average production values. Ultimately, it’s worth seeing for some of the ideas, and some of the character moments. 

We begin with some guys in parkas on a planet talking about an “obliteration module,” some barriers, and a traitor. Having seen the story and gone back and watched this prologue, it makes a certain amount of sense, but the first time it was nearly incomprehensible. A very cheap looking ship blows up, and then we’re away to earth for the story to really begin. Given that a mysterious severed hand appears, and the first two episodes begin to gather some suspense, one wonders why the prologue (which, though incoherent, threatens to give away that the hand is the fragment of an alien, perhaps even “the traitor Eldrad”) was included at all. As it turns out, this is indeed a fragment of Eldrad, an alien who brought down barriers that allowed for the destruction of his own world, centuries ago. 

Now we dip back to some positive points: Sarah Jane Smith as a possessed villain is interesting to watch, and given that Eldrad eventually takes two forms (one far more alien, subtle and fascinating to watch than the other) it’s interesting that there are two Sarah’s as well. There is a small moment when Sarah walks up to a guard looking like a confused, innocent woman, and then zaps him. I’m not sure if it’s meant as a metaphor, or statement about different sides to the same personality (or possibly male and female tendencies – the female Eldrad is far more reasonable) but it has potential. Most of that potential is thrown away at the end with Stephen Thorne (as the second, male Eldrad) apparently encouraged to do some stereotypical ranting. We say goodbye to any possibility of a subtle story about an Eldrad who destroyed the barriers that protected her world and now regrets it. Apparently, the writers felt that either Eldrad was good and trying to help her people, or was evil and destroyed the barriers. Finally, they voted for the evil Eldrad, and the best you can say about it is that it’s a twist. 

Some more good points: good effects for the severed hand, and some great moments with the Doctor and Sarah, such as when they admit to worrying about each other. Sarah is undoubtedly the best screaming companion ever, and she has a few opportunities here to let loose. When I was growing up my friend had a TV where you could fiddle with the channels, and get the sound from one channel with the picture from another – so you’d put on a newscaster and listen to Sarah Jane Smith screaming and blubbering, something both funny and surreal. Of course, this story has Sarah’s famous departure scene, which is wonderfully written and acted. And I laughed out loud at one previous exchange between the Doctor and Sarah, after some famous Sarah Jane Smith blubbering:

“Stop making a fuss Sarah, you’re from South Croydon!”

“Eh?”

“You’re a carbon based life-form. The gas is only effective against silicon structures.”

“Oh.”

Unfortunately, while the scenes between the Doctor and Sarah are injected with real warmth and feeling, the same writers fall into deadening patters with Eldrad and company, so that repeats of “Eldrad must live!” give way to repeats of “They thought they could destroy me, but they were wrong!” Certainly, not long after Judith Paris no longer plays Eldrad, I found myself not really caring about this planet or these people at all. And unfortunately, due to budget restrictions, it feels like the planet had a population of about six anyway. Finally it comes down to a brief, pointless chase. Despite the potential that bleeds away there, the story is worth watching through to the end for Sarah’s farewell.

I've been dreading reviewing 'Genesis of the Daleks'. It is a story generally regarded as a classic, but for me it long suffered from the principle that familiarity breeds contempt. Once it was released on video, I watched it regularly until I became sick of it, and just as I decided that I didn't want to see it again for a very long time, BBC2 announced what the next story would be following the repeat of 'Doctor Who and the Silurians'… As it turned out however, that was the last time I saw it prior to this occasion, and after a lengthy absence, my enthusiasm for the story was entirely rekindled. 

'Genesis of the Daleks' is not perfect. I'll get my criticisms out of the way first, and the first is that it is rather padded during the first three episodes. Sarah's abortive escape attempt up the rocket scaffolding makes for an exciting cliffhanger but is a narrative dead-end, and the dystronic toxжmia from which she was so determined to escape is conveniently forgotten after the first five minutes of Episode Three. In addition, the scenes in the cave leading out of the Kaled bunker add little to the plot, rendering the shots of Davros' giant clam mutants pointless. Given that they are woefully unimpressive, this is unfortunate, since they need not really have been there. My other, criticism of 'Genesis of the Daleks' is that the meagre distance between the Thal and Kaled cities stretches credibility somewhat; we are expected to believe that a lengthy war has been fought on the doorsteps of these cities, each housing the last remnants of their respective races. I can think of an explanation, which is that the cities, both of them extremely spartan in dйcor, are an equivalent of the trenches used in world war one, built relatively recently on either side of the no-man's land in between (the wasteland), and that they represent the last bastions of civilization on the benighted Skaro, both races nearly extinct after a millennium of warfare. That said, it is always a bad sign when the viewer has to contrive explanations for threadbare areas of the plot, and given the many, many excellent aspects of this story, it is a shame. 

The rest of 'Genesis of the Daleks' however, is outstanding. This is the bleakest and most powerful illustration of the horrors of war ever seen in Doctor Who on television, presenting us with an unrelentingly grim atmosphere from the very first shot of Thal soldiers mown down in slow motion. There are many familiar images of war used here, from the trenches to the mine-riddled wasteland between them, the terrible sense of waste and weariness and the atrocities committed by both sides. This latter issue illustrates the effect of the war on the people involved in it; the Kaleds are represented by blatant Nazi imagery from the start, which never fails to convey a sense of evil. The Mutos represent the human cost of war, victims scarred by weapons and abandoned by the Kaleds out of their desire to keep their race pure, reflecting the eugenics beloved of Hitler when he spoke of the Aryan race. Jack-booted and goose-stepping, the Kaleds, or at least the military elite, are clearly based on the Third Reich, and in the midst sits Davros, representing not only Hitler, but also people like Mengele, an utterly immoral scientist taking advantage of the war to further his own ghastly interests. Perhaps more unexpectedly however, the Thals, previously cast in the role of heroes due to their long enmity with the Daleks, are just as bad, happy to use "disposal labour" to prepare their rocket, and normally killing the Mutos on sight. Their wholesale slaughter at the hands of the Daleks, and the shock displayed by Bettan, later changes their role as they become the lesser of two evils, but lest we forget only a short time before they effectively commit genocide, wiping out nearly all of the Kaleds. The production reflects this general sense of horror too, not just in the gloomy trenches and wasteland, but throughout the bunker and both cities; in any other story the drab sets might be a disappointment, but here they are wholly appropriate, since the functional, utilitarian dйcor suits the mood, suggesting that after centuries of conflict neither race have either the resources nor the inclination to consider aesthetics. 

One of the most famous, and indeed most interesting, scenes in 'Genesis of the Daleks' occurs at the beginning of Episode Six, as the Doctor agonizes over the decision as to whether or not he can destroy the Daleks utterly. The reason I find it so interesting is that I disagree with his argument, but nevertheless find it to be a fascinating character moment. The Doctor's indecision rests on his reluctance to commit genocide, explaining to Sarah that he doesn't have the right to destroy an entire intelligent species; his excuse is that future worlds might become allies because of their fear of the Daleks. My personal opinion is that for all that the Daleks are an intelligent species, they are more a force representative of a force of nature; twice during the story, they are compared to a virus, once by the Doctor himself when he is trying to convince Davros to change their nature, and later by Sarah as she tries to convince the Doctor to complete his mission for the Time Lords. I've argued before that the Doctor's stance is akin to refusing to prevent an outbreak of smallpox, on the grounds that the survivors might be brought closer together as a result; other fans disagree, but I maintain that the Daleks are essentially an intelligent plague, utterly destructive, ruthless and completely beyond redemption, and devoted to exterminating or subjugating all other forms of life in the cosmos. Ultimately, I feel that the Doctor's dilemma boils down not a reluctance to destroy the Daleks per se, but rather to a refusal to accept for responsibility for such an action, which would have far reaching consequences for the entire universe. However you interpret the scene however, it remains very dramatic and compelling. 

Then we have Davros, played brilliantly by Michael Wisher. Davros is undoubtedly one of the series' greatest villains, and is one of the most potent symbols of evil ever to appear in Doctor Who. Much as I like the Master, he is motivated largely by his rivalry with the Doctor and on occasion will switch sides; for all that he is ruthless and has committed unspeakable crimes, he can still on a certain level be reasoned with. Davros however, is a different matter entirely. He is entirely focused on the development of the Daleks and will stop at nothing to achieve his aims. Initially, he is a villain by association; not only is he responsible or the creation of the Daleks, he is visually associated to them by the fact that his wheelchair resembles a Dalek base. However, his characterisation is such that it is quickly established that he is a villain in his own right, and one whose sense of morality is diametrically opposed to the Doctor's. The first real glimpse of his true nature is in Episode Two, when Ronson saves the Doctro's life by deactivating the newly armed Dalek; an astonished and furious Davros questions how Ronson can possibly consider a single worthless life to be of more value than his Dalek's instinct to destroy, and this is the first clear indication that Davros is way beyond the Doctor's ability to reason. The more the story progresses, the more terrible Davros is seen to be, one of the key moments being his decision to exterminate "the whole of the Kaled people", a statement which briefly shocks even Nyder. The fact that he is prepared to sacrifice his own race to ensure that his work can continue is utterly chilling, and is compounded shortly afterwards by his "retaliation" against the Thals, as he gives his Daleks their first ever taste of mass slaughter. 

By far my favourite scenes in 'Genesis of the Daleks', and indeed one of my favourite scenes from the whole of the series, is the Doctor's attempt to reason with Davros in Episode Five. He asks Davros if he would unleash a virus that would wipe out all forms of life in the universe; Davros, rather than coming round to the Doctor's way of thinking, is fascinated by this concept, and considers it carefully before deciding that he would, since that power would make him a God, a power which the Daleks will grant him. The scene is supremely effective in summing Davros up and is wonderfully directed; as Davros considers, the incidental score grows louder and more impressive in the background, rising to a climax as Davros screeches about power and the Daleks. Most disturbing of all, is the moment when, as he considers, his finger and thumb crush an imaginary vial of virus confirming in an instant that the Doctor has absolutely no hope of ever reasoning with him. 

The Daleks themselves are used sparingly in 'Genesis of the Daleks' as they take a back seat to Davros, but when they do appear they are highly impressive. Their casual destruction of the Thals is a great visual image, as the newborn creatures glide unstoppably around the Thal dome, exterminating without hesitation anyone they find. The fact that Davros is so utterly evil also benefits the Daleks, as they turn on him in Episode Six. Having just added to his other crimes during the story by trapping and disposing of those scientists who are no longer loyal to him, even Davros is horrified when his creations turn on those who have remained loyal, the ever-faithful Nyder among them. In his last few moments, as he tries desperately to reason with the Daleks, he comes to the horrified realization that they are so much a product of himself that they will let nothing and nobody stand in their way, not even him. It is a fitting irony that just as the Doctor tried in vain to reason with Davros, so Davros now tries in vain to reason with the Daleks, and is ultimately so shocked by the results that he reaches for the button that will destroy them utterly before he is gunned down. In many ways, the Daleks are once again the living embodiment of the horrors of war, born out of it and representing all that is terrifying about it. 

There are many minor aspects of 'Genesis of the Daleks' that work so well. The fact that the Daleks are mutations of the Kaleds is brilliantly ironic, given that the Kaleds are so obsessed with racial purity that they exiled the Mutos (even more ironically, it is Nyder who tells us this, despite his total devotion to Davros's project). The gimmick of the Time Ring works well too, since it is far easier to lose than the TARDIS, and creates an additional level of tension by increasing the chances of the Doctor, Sarah and Harry becoming trapped on the nightmare that is Skaro. David Maloney's direction is superb, especially during Episode Six, as the tension builds and builds to a climax that, unusually, sees the Doctor departing without having achieved a great deal. And lastly, whilst Michael Wisher steals the show, mention must be made of Peter Miles' Davros, a character as thoroughly unpleasant and ruthless as his superior. Overall, 'Genesis of the Daleks' stands as one of Doctor Who's greatest stories, and maintains the adult feeling of 'The Ark in Space' and 'The Sontaran Experiment' whilst taking it to another level entirely. What a shame it couldn't last…

'Pyramids of Mars' is often accused of having plot holes. In fact, I can think of three potential plot holes, but only one of them actually bothers me, and that only slightly. The first of these is that the Osirans entombed Sutekh with everything he needs to escape, but this is obliquely addressed in the script, the Doctor firstly explaining that the Osirans' moral code forbade them from executing Sutekh and later telling Sarah that they had "cerebrums like spiral staircases" and were known for their guile and cunning. The implication is that leaving Sutekh with a chance of regaining his freedom is part of their moral code, and this is further implied by the fact that the traps in the Pyramid of Mars are dangerous but passable; certainly, this is the assumption made by Justin Richards in 'The Sands of Time'. The second supposed plot hole is that having Scarman build the Osiran war missile in England is pointless, since he could have constructed it outside Sutekh's tomb, but again this isn't really a plot hole, given that it makes sense for Sutekh to exploit the fact that Scarman owns a large and secluded estate. The third plot hole is that the Doctor is rather fortunate that Sutekh decides to travel to England to start his revenge, thus allowing the Doctor to destroy him, and it is this slight flaw that bothers me, since he could easily have destroyed the world from Egypt. On the other hand, he may have wanted to collect his remaining Servitors before launching his reign of death. But even if this is construed as a plot hole (it is undoubtedly a plot contrivance to allow the Doctor to triumph), it doesn't matter; 'Pyramids of Mars' is a story that confidently papers over its limitations with a great deal of style and atmosphere.

'Pyramids of Mars' is unusual (although not unique) in that every supporting character except for the briefly glimpsed Egyptians at the beginning is killed off during the course of the story. This is significant, because it demonstrates on a small scale the horror represented by Sutekh, as one after another characters are casually slaughtered at his behest. This works particularly well because Holmes and Griefer create characters that are uniformly well characterised, regardless of importance to the plot, so that every death has an impact. The first example is Collins, the old and weary butler who has remained in the service of the mysteriously absent Professor Scarman partly because he doubts that he could find a new appointment at his age, but probably also out of a sense of loyalty. He appears only briefly, but is rather likeable and Michael Bilton gives him a plaintive air that makes his death at the hands of the Servitors all the more traumatic. Warlock is an even better example, forcing his way into Scarman's house out of concern for his friend and paying the ultimate price, and his death also feels tragic, partly because he has survived being shot by Namin, but also because it is ultimately Scarman who orders his death, whilst under the control of Sutekh. The best example of this principle is Lawrence Scarman. Lawrence is superbly portrayed by the ever-reliable Michael Sheard, and lasts for nearly three episodes, during which time we see his almost childlike fascination with the Doctor's alien knowledge (the scene in which he bounds enthusiastically around the TARDIS is charming), and also his gnawing anguish over his brother's ghastly fate. His interference with the Doctor's attempt to block Sutekh's control of Marcus and the Servitors literally endangers the entire universe, but it is painfully understandable and it is hard not to feel sympathetic as guilt is added to Lawrence's emotional burden. His death at the smoldering hands of his brother is heart-rending, and because of this the Doctor's subsequent dismissal of Lawrence's death works so well in reminding us of the true scale of the threat posed by Sutekh. The usually compassionate Doctor is so focused on stopping Sutekh that he can't waste time with individual deaths, and this more than anything else in the story is the true measure of Sutekh's power. Even Ibrahim Namin's death is powerful, as this faithful servant of Sutekh is casual dispatched by Sutekh's puppet as a reward for his service, and the same is true of Marcus Scarman, as he briefly regains his freedom from Sutekh in Episode Four, only to disintegrate into a charred husk. 

Sutekh is vital to the success of 'Pyramids of Mars'. I praised 'Genesis of the Daleks' for its portrayal of Davros as one of Doctor Who's greatest villains by presenting him as a villain whose sense of morality is totally opposed to the Doctor's. With Sutekh, that principle is taken far, far further. He is perhaps the ultimate villain, a being of immeasurable power entirely devoted not to death or the subjugation of others, but to the total extermination of all life, everywhere, forever. His instruction to Scarman that after the missile is completed all life within the deflection barrier right down to birds, fish and reptiles must be destroyed because all life is his enemy is disturbing; no other villain in Doctor Who is so nihilistic. And whereas Davros is ultimately a man in a wheelchair whom the Doctor can physically overpower and in other respects face on an equal footing, Sutekh is effectively a God. The scene in which the Doctor confronts Sutekh in Episode Four is extremely powerful, Sutekh casually torturing him for every minor insult and explaining that all life must end under his reign. Gabriel Woolf's chilling tones drip with evil, helping to emphasize Sutekh's total malevolence, and mention must also be made of the rather sinister, but only briefly seen, jackal-like face beneath the impassive blue mask. 

If the human cost of Sutekh's evil is well conveyed by the deaths of the supporting characters, then the large scale consequences of his escape are served by the scene in Episode Three in which the Doctor takes Sarah to a 1988 in which Sutekh was not stopped. The brief sight of the blasted, lifeless Earth is highly effective, further demonstrating Sutekh's power without blowing the budget, and also implying interesting things about time travel, given that it suggests that the Doctor's defeat of Sutekh has always happened and is already a part of history even before he succeeds. 

The characterisation of the Doctor here also stresses the danger posed by Sutekh. Early on in the story, as Collins discovers the Doctor and Sarah, we get a fairly typical example of the Doctor's wit, as the butler demands to know how he got into the building; the Doctor cheerfully responds "Through the window. I understood the property was for sale?" However, as soon as the Doctor discovers the nature of his enemy, he is unusually grim throughout, and Tom Baker puts in one of his most intense performances. When the Doctor travels to Egypt to distract Sutekh, he fully expects to die in the process, but throughout the story he gives the impression that he isn't sure that can prevail here. Tellingly, once Sutekh is aged to death in the time corridor, he reverts briefly to his usually cheerful self, just before he and Sarah flee from the burning Priory. 

The acting in 'Pyramids of Mars' is very fine throughout. I've already mentioned Micheal Sheard and Gabriel Woolf, but Bernard Archard's performance as the living dead Scarman is very effective, and both Tom Baker and Elizabeth Sladen are on top of their form. Baker is convincingly agonized when Sutekh tortures him and as mentioned puts in a tense performance throughout. Because of this it falls to Sladen to lighten to the atmosphere slightly, which works because it suggests she can't fully comprehend the true danger posed by Sutekh whereas the Doctor can. She also gets to shoot at the gelignite on the ramp of the missile, thus contributing significantly to the Doctor's desperate (and as it happens, failed) gambit to stop Sutekh from destroying the Eye of Horus on Mars. 

The Mummies are another highly successful aspect of 'Pyramids of Mars', combining the unstoppable air of the Cybermen in their better outings with a distinctive and creepy appearance; in addition, the weird howling noise made by the Servitor that gets its foot caught in one of Clements' traps is rather spine-tingling. The whole production is very well made, with superb location footage, great sets (I especially like the strange swirling backdrops in the Pyramid of Mars, which creates an alien feel), and evocative incidental music. Overall, 'Pyramids of Mars' is a high point of the generally strong Season Thirteen and a real classic.

Terry Nation is possibly Doctor Who's most erratic writer. On the one hand he is capable of writing classics such as 'The Mutants', 'The Dalek Invasion of Earth', 'The Daleks' Master Plan' and 'Genesis of the Daleks', whilst on the other hand he is capable of writing such balderdash as 'The Keys of Marinus', 'The Chase', 'Planet of the Daleks', and, unfortunately, 'The Android Invasion'. Apologists for this story might argue that it seems worse than it is alongside the other stories of Season Thirteen, but personally I think there's so much wrong with it that placing it next to any other story, no matter how dire, is going to amount to little more than trying to polish a turd. 

'The Android Invasion' suffers from more plot holes than any other Doctor Who story I can think of. First of all, we have the replica of Devesham on Oseidon. This is immensely detailed and extremely elaborate, which raises the question, what exactly is the point of it? To explain what I mean, allow me to recap Styggron's plan. The Kraals intend to invade Earth and wipe out mankind using a virus. The virus isn't airborne and it kills its victims within seconds or minutes, which would limit its spread immediately, since anyone infected with it wouldn't have time to travel very far before dying. Metres, if they are lucky. Therefore, Styggron's androids are intended to "disseminate" the virus. In addition, note that Styggron insists that the extermination of mankind will take place within three weeks. Therefore, the androids will have to transport the virus to all parts of the planet within that time and physically expose everyone on Earth to it. This is, clearly bollocks; firstly, there are only a handful of androids, and secondly as soon as whole areas started dying in one go, quarantines would be enforced. Since there is no evidence that Styggron has facilitates on Earth to make new androids, this means that a group of androids who resemble the inhabitants of one small village are expected to evade quarantines without being noticed, which is also bollocks, and in case anyone is thinking of pointing out that they are allegedly indestructible, allow me to point out that this is twaddle, since Sarah electrocutes one (and their faces fall off very easily if they trip up). Even if we assume that this is possible, the androids would still have to spread out from Devesham on arrival, which raises the question of why Styggron establishes an elaborate program of training that involves the androids spending an afternoon in the local pub. The point is, the only possible reason for the needlessly elaborate Devesham mock-up would be if the Kraal androids were intended to infiltrate Devesham by replacing the inhabitants and then spend some time there gathering information. Which they aren't. Indeed, not only that, but they successfully replace the entire personnel of the Space Defence Station within minutes of arriving. The only remotely plausible explanation that is actually consistent with the witless plot is that the training ground allows them to become familiar with the layout of Devesham and the Space Defence Station, which in any case is provided to Styggron by Crayford. Some kind of map might have been easier…

In addition to these gaping plot holes, if Styggron wants to use the androids to wipe out mankind, why doesn't he just drop androids all across the planet from orbit, instead of bringing them all to Devesham? If he's so clever, why doesn't he just create an airborne virus? If he can't, why doesn't he just fill a couple of pods with the virus and dump it in the ocean, since Nation appears in any case to have misunderstood the difference between the words "virus" and "poison". The number of unanswered questions in this story are astounding; if the brain patterns taken by Styggron from humans are as detailed as he implies, why does the android Sarah not know that the real Sarah dislikes ginger pop and that she left her scarf with the Doctor? Are the dogs used to chase the Doctor and Sarah real dogs, and if so how did they get to Oseidon? If not, what are they for? If they are androids but are capable of following the tracks of the Doctor and Sarah, then why can't the other androids do the same? Waste of time making robot dogs, frankly. Why does the otherwise insanely detailed fake Devesham have stupid mistakes like the calendar with only one date in it? Why don't the androids in the pub grab Sarah in Episode One? If they're intelligent enough to realize that she could be part of some test, surely they're intelligent enough to bother to just hold on to her whilst they check with Styggron? Why, if most of the androids arrive at the pub in a truck before being properly activated, are some androids inside pods dotted around the village? Did they get bored and decided to play hide and seek? In Episode One, when Styggron tells Crayford that there might be rogue unit on the loose, does he catch a flicker of movement at the end of the corridor and immediately dive through a door to get at a gun? He can't possibly see that it is a stranger, and the androids are bulletproof. Well, probably: Styggron's claim that they are invincible is, as noted above, twaddle. To top it all off, the story ends with yet another notorious gaping hole as the Doctor uses a powerful electromagnetic field to jam the circuits of every android in the area, but then somehow manages to use his own android against Styggron. Apologists for this story might argue that this makes the Doctor look very clever, but given that he ahs only a few minutes in which to equip the android with a formidable array of shielding and reprogram it as well, I would argue that it makes Terry Nation look like a bit of an arse. 

Amongst all this rubbish, is there anything good about 'The Android Invasion'? Not really, no. The Kraals look quite good, but Styggron is basically a standard ranting megalomaniac with a mad plan, a line in gloating, and stupid dialogue ("Resistance is inadvisable!" Come back Professor Zaroff, all is forgiven…). Chedaki is voiced by Roy Skelton, who seems to have forgotten which of his roles he's in, as Chedaki sounds like bloody Zippy from Rainbow. Milton Johns is a fine actor, but Crayford is a ludicrous character; how on Earth he got the job of an astronaut if he's so paranoid that he assumes he's been deliberately abandoned when something goes wrong, and then agrees to help space Rhinos invade is a mystery, and then of course there is the notoriously stupid plot device of him never having looked under his eye-patch - does the man never wash?

The direction is adequate, the design uninspiring; the interiors of the Kraal base are forgettable and the spiky-bottomed doors just look daft. The whole set up in Episode One of the quite village with its inhabitants acting strangely is promisingly sinister, but delivers manure. Even the title is rubbish, suffering from the same basic weakness of 'Revenge of the Cybermen' in that its title undermines the mystery behind the first episode from the start. The regulars are fine; Tom Baker and Elizabeth Sladen are capable by this point in the series of playing their respective roles with consummate ease, and both tackle the feeble script well. John Levene and Ian Marter are also both their usual reliable selves, but they get little to do and it is therefore a shame that their last appearance in Doctor Who is in this story rather than the marvellous 'Terror of the Zygons'. Nicholas Courtney gets a particularly lucky escape in that respect, with the character of Colonel Faraday created as a stand in; Patrick Newell does well with what he's given, but the script paints him as a buffoon and the Brigadier had quite enough of that in 'The Three Doctors'. 

I'll end by pointing out one last plot hole; the Kraal fleet is poised to attack, but is never mentioned again after Styggron's death. In Episode Two, Chedaki tries to convince Styggron to abandon the androids, arguing that they are dangerous and that the Kraals can conquer Earth without them. Why then, do they not invade? The answer, and indeed the answer to all the plot holes in 'The Android Invasion' is actually quite simple: Chedaki and Styggron are lovers, but Chedaki is rather submissive; keen to please his completely loopy boyfriend, Chedaki humours his occasional plan to invade other planets even though they are ill thought out and obviously won't work. Once Styggron dies, Chedaki breathes a sigh of release and decides to quit whilst he's ahead, and/or goes home to Oseidon because he's too distraught to lead an invasion. Makes more sense than what we see on screen, anyway…

'The Deadly Assassin' was apparently rather controversial amongst Doctor Who fans at one time, due to its depiction of the Time Lords as a bunch of silly old fools. It's long since undergone something of a reassessment and is now considered to be something of a classic. Whilst I consider the term classic to be overused by Doctor Who fans on occasion, in this case it is entirely warranted; 'The Deadly Assassin' is a triumph, and works extremely well, despite being rather unusual in a number of respects.

Firstly, I'll discuss the Time Lords. The Time Lords have not been seen to anywhere near the degree that they are used here at any point in the series history prior to 'The Deadly Assassin'. What little we have learned about them paints them as a powerful and technological advanced race; the first story to feature the Time Lords properly is 'The War Games', in which they are shown to be powerful and rather austere. Both the Doctor and the War Chief are clearly afraid of them and they have both the ability and ruthlessness to dematerialize the War Lord and quarantine his home planet. Time Lord technology is often hinted at rather than seen; creating a force field around a planet is no mean feat, and of course the TARDIS itself is a fantastic creation, being as it is both dimensionally transcendental and able to travel anywhere in time and space. In 'Genesis of the Daleks', the Time Lord who appears to the Doctor on Skaro smugly boasts that the Time Lords mastered the technology necessary to interrupt a transmat beam safely when "the universe was less than half its present size", again suggesting considerable technological advancements. In 'The Three Doctors', we see the Time Lords under threat for the first time, and whilst a combination of Roy Purcell's wooden acting and cheap and nasty sets rather undermine them anyway, the fact remains that it takes a being capable of destroying the entire universe in that story to seriously trouble them; significantly, he's also one of their own. Despite that story's considerable shortcomings, it also maintains the image of the Time Lords as a dignified and solemn race.

The other main characteristic of the Time Lords that we already know of is that they have adopted a policy of non-intervention in the affairs of others. They break this on numerous occasions, especially during the Third Doctor's era, when they send him to different alien worlds during his exile, including Uxarieus, Peladon and Solos. But whilst they do therefore interfere, they prefer to do so through an agent provocateur, who of course is often the Doctor; as he says in 'The Brain of Morbius', they get him to do any dirty work that they aren't prepared to touch with their "lily white Time Lord hands". In doing so, they thus further contribute to the aloof air that surrounds them at this point in the series, as they manipulate events from behind the scenes. Faced with the task of writing a story set on Gallifrey, Robert Holmes remains true to all of this, but gives it a brilliant - and rather irreverent - twist. The Time Lords seen briefly in 'The War Games' are ultimately rather dull, so here Holmes takes the amusing option of presenting the Time Lords as politicians, obsessed with ceremony and bound by procedure. The Time Lords of 'The Deadly Assassin' have the trappings of dignity seen in 'The War Games', but we see beneath the surface; the two old Time Lords in Episode One who we see getting changed into their robes are clichйd old men, hard of hearing and grumbling about the young people of today. Hugh Walters' Runcible "the fatuous" is a vain and silly man, entirely consumed by his job of presenting the Public Register Video, a job he carries out with only a modicum of competence and little charisma. 

In addition to these rather daft Time Lords we have Borusa and Chancellor Goth, both wily politicians, each intelligent and cunning and each ruthless in his own way. Holmes takes the opportunity to poke fun at politics, mainly through Borusa who gets to utter some wickedly sharp lines such as "if heroes do not exist it is necessary to invent them", and best of all, "we must adjust the truth". Goth is utterly ruthless, more than willing to assassinate the President for his own ends and equally prepared to use the Doctor as a sacrificial lamb, first by helping the Master to frame him and later by hunting him down through the dreamscape in the Matrix. But for all that these two are intelligent and cunning, renegades upstage them both; Goth is foolishly trusting of the Master and it takes the Doctor to uncover the conspiracy that the pair of them have perpetrated. The Doctor's trial showcases this brilliantly, as he sits and draws offensive caricatures of the witnesses before calmly standing up and invoking Article Seventeen, thus taking refuge in the convoluted loop holes of Gallifreyan law, which Goth is forced to accept in public. Unusually for a Robert Holmes story, a character who is essentially a policeman proves to be the Doctor's greatest ally; the plain speaking Castellan Spandrell approaches politics with cynicism and quickly realises that the Doctor is telling him the truth in Episode Two. This then, is how Holmes approaches the grandeur of the Time Lords: by revealing it to be a sham, a hollow veneer of pomp and ceremony beneath. Even the Chancellery Guards, splendid though they look, are supported by a veneer of ceremonial armour, beneath which they are shown to be incompetent, the Doctor and the Master both running rings around them.

If the Time Lords are thus portrayed however, it raises the question of how this meshes with their reputation as technologically advanced manipulators. The latter point is brilliantly accounted for by a throwaway reference to the Celestial Intervention Agency, an organisation so secretive that even the Castellan is not privy to their secrets. With this one line, Holmes is able to convincingly present us with his rather unfaltering portrait of the High Council, whilst still allowing for the interventionists seen in stories such as 'Colony in Space'. The second point is even more brilliantly realized, as it becomes clear that whilst the Time Lords are indeed possessed of incredibly advanced technology, they can't actually remember how most of it works. The Eye of Harmony, the power source for their entire society, has passed into legend to such an extent that Spandrell thinks it is a myth and that if it did once exist it doesn't any more. The tools Rassilon (mentioned for the first time in 'The Deadly Assassin') built to control the power of the Eye have been reduced to the status of mere ceremonial relics, symbols of power but with no known function. Even the potential of the Amplified Panatropic Net, used to predict the future, is not fully realized until the Master makes use of it. Co-ordinator Engin, who maintains the Matrix equipment, is in awe of it rather than understanding it; he simply cannot believe that anyone could interfere with it in the way that the Master does. Thus, we do indeed see the technology hinted at in previous Doctor Who stories, but Time Lord society has become so stagnant and apathetic that most of it has fallen into disuse. 

Another noteworthy aspect of 'The Deadly Assassin' is of course the return of the Master. Rather than simply recasting the late lamented Roger Delgado and introducing a new incarnation, Holmes and Hinchcliffe choose instead to reduce the Master to the status of a walking cadaver, hideously disfigured and both literally and physically near to death. Peter Pratt's Master is twisted in both body and mind, and whilst he's true to the character established during the Pertwee era, he's also dramatically changed, his characteristic charm literally seared away along with his distinguished, if rather devilish, looks. This corpse-like Master fits perfectly into the gothic horror of the Hinchcliffe era, alongside such memorable villains as Davros and Morbius, and with his skull-like visage and his billowing black cloak he inevitably, and strikingly, resembles the Grim Reaper. Ironically, in bringing the Master this close to death, the production team also gives his character a new lease of life. Whereas the Master of old was motivated by power and a desire to humiliate the Doctor, his motivation has now changed; he still wants revenge against his old enemy more than anything (he notes on two occasions that hatred keeps him alive), but his primary motivation now is to survive, a drive so overwhelming that he is willing to destroy both Gallifrey and the Time Lords in order to succeed. Whereas in the past the Master occasionally seemed more interested in his rivalry with the Doctor than actual victory, and could therefore often be reasoned with, his new status brings with it a desperation that makes him far more ruthless and dangerous than before. 'The Deadly Assassin' would have worked perfectly well as a final story for the Master; brought to such a state and clearly dying, the Master could quite easily have been permanently written out of the series at this point. Instead, Holmes gives him a new slant and then sends him on his way, temporarily revitalized by the Eye of Harmony and escaping in his TARDIS at the end. As a means of reintroducing an old and popular enemy, it works very well and gives a tantalizing promise of a rematch in the future. 

In terms of structure, 'The Deadly Assassin' is highly unusual. Episode Three is rightly famous, set almost entirely in the Matrix and consisting as it does of a long battle between the Doctor and Goth, with a plethora of surreal and impressive imagery and making great use of the location filming. With very little dialogue, the episode is an intense twenty-five minutes as the Doctor struggles to survive, and this means that whereas Episode Three of a four part Doctor Who story is often reserved for an explanation of the plot, here that takes place at the start of Episode Four. Episode Three is so well directed and so well paced that it never once feels padded and passes at break-neck speed, and the notorious final shot of the Doctor's head being held under water by Goth is highly effective. However, it is also worth mentioning Episode One. 'The Deadly Assassin' is unique because it is the only Doctor Who story in which the Doctor is unaccompanied by a companion, and this results in a first episode in which the Doctor is entirely on his own, desperately trying to evade capture as he strives to save the life of the President. After the equally unusual voice-over introduction with caption, this results in a fast paced and adrenaline charged episode that is just as worthy of recognition as Episode Three. 

In production terms 'The Deadly Assassin' is flawless. The green-tinted sets of the Capitol look old but dusty, reflecting the sense of stagnation prevalent in Time Lord society, and amidst this faded splendor the colourful Time Lord robes with their distinctive collars look entirely appropriate. The ominous but slightly pompous musical score also perfectly suits the story, and David Maloney's superb direction brings everything together perfectly. The acting is uniformly excellent, with Erik Chitty's doddery and absent minded but thoroughly likeable Engin forming a classic "Robert Holmes double-act" with George Pravda's caustic Spandrell (making amends for his atrocious performance as Jaeger in 'The Mutants'). The ever-reliable Bernard Horsfall is perfect as Goth, bringing the necessary dignity to the character in Episode One, but also having the physical presence to convey menace as he hunts the Doctor in the Matrix. Entirely obscured by his costume, Peter Pratt does wonders with his voice alone, bringing some of the Master's old charisma to the role but also sounding suitably ghoulish. But for me Angus Mackay as Cardinal Borusa, bringing to the role dignity, presence and dry wit, steals the show; his casual dismissal of Runcible is hilarious, but best of all is his final scene with the Doctor, as he first utters the withering line "you will never amount to anything in the universe whilst you retain your propensity for vulgar facetiousness", and then follows it up with the wry "nine out of ten", briefly hinting at real affection for his old and wayward pupil. It's a marvellous performance in a superb story and is just one of the many reasons that 'The Deadly Assassin' is a true classic.

Back when I reviewed 'The War Machines', I stated that I don't like villainous supercomputers. I'm starting to wish that I hadn't made this claim, since I first discovered that BOSS works rather well in 'The Green Death', and now have to admit that Xoanon, the schizophrenic supercomputer of 'The Face of Evil' is also highly effective. Sandwiched as it is between 'The Deadly Assassin' and 'The Robots of Death', it is all too easy to underestimate Chris Boucher' debut Doctor Who story, but to do so is a mistake; 'The Face of Evil' is very, very good. 

'The Face of Evil' benefits from a relatively complex plot that works well on several levels. Firstly, it explores the consequences of the Doctor's often-hasty actions, as he returns to a planet where he once hurriedly repaired the computer of the Mordee colonization ship, making a careless mistake in the process, which has had dire consequences for the colonists and their descendents. Having left an imprint of his own mind in the newly sentient computer Xoanon, he spawned a schizoid being of enormous power, which subjugated the Mordee and split them into two groups; the technologically primitive but physically strong Sevateem, and the technologically advanced and psychic Tesh. This is revealed in stages through well paced and highly effective story telling, as the Doctor arrives and discovers the tribal Sevateem, and he (and therefore the audience) are confronted by the innocuous presence of technological relics scattered throughout both their village and their culture. The cliffhanger ending to Episode One presents the striking image of a massive stone carving of the Doctor's face, at which point the emphasis of the story shifts slightly as the Doctor attempts to remember when he last visited the planet and what he did to make such an impact. 

Presented with the consequences of his past actions, the Doctor is portrayed here with a considerable sense of urgency as he quickly accepts responsibility for the plight of the Sevateem and sets about trying to rectify his mistake. Despite characteristic flashes of humour, the Doctor is at his most intense here, as he almost impatiently tries to get the Sevateem to trust him, which he finally more or less manages when he successfully undertakes the test of the Horda. Prior to this, we see him constantly going out on a limb to befriend them, in spite of Neeva's belief that he is the Evil One, and also Calib's duplicitous nature and constant maneuvering for political power. Tom Baker rises the to the challenge magnificently, putting in one of his best performances; he seems genuinely furious when Calib tries to murder Leela with a Janis thorn, and savagely threatens to break his nose if he doesn't get up and help carry her to a handy supply of "holy relics". The Doctor is clearly appalled by Jabel's serene attitude to Leela's impending dissection, and becomes increasingly impatient during the last two episodes as he races against time to cure Xoanon. Baker also conveys well the Doctor's business-like attitude to every problem that he faces, be it Xoanon's invisible psi-tri projections, the test of the Horda, or the gun-wielding Tesh. He also superbly portrays the Doctor's angst and desperation at the end of Episode Three as he tries to explain to the utterly demented Xoanon that he wants to help it. 

In addition to all of this, 'The Face of Evil' works to a degree on a metaphorical level, possibly attempting to explore the dichotomy between science and religion. Although both the Sevateem and the Tesh worship Xoanon, the former are more overtly superstitious and bound by ritual, whereas the latter are more dependent on logic, reason, and technology. Neitehr is suggested to be better than the other; the Sevateem lead a brutal life, exiling dissenters to supposedly certain death beyond the boundary or letting them face the equally deadly test of the Horda. The Tesh, initially seemingly civilized by comparison, are no better, as their disregard for Leela's life in Episode Three demonstrates. Boucher has gained something of a reputation for decrying religion in his original Doctor Who novels, but here he seems to be attempting a more balanced view. I should lay my cards on the table at this point and say that as an atheist I've never felt any particular emptiness in my life left by the absence of religion, but a television programme broadcast at teatime on a Saturday and aimed at a family audience is arguably not the place for prompting either science or religion over the other, and so Boucher here suggests that the two need to coexist; it is not until the Sevateem and the Tesh reach an uneasy truce at the end of the story that there is a suggestion of hope for the future.

The characterisation is generally very good in 'The Face of Evil', with Calib and Neeva worthy of particular mention (I'll come to Leela in a moment). Neeva starts out as a fairly two-dimensional religious fanatic, but as his faith in Xoanon is shattered he becomes more than that, suffering a breakdown and then turning against his false god. David Garfield plays the part well, and the character becomes increasingly sympathetic as the story progresses; the scene in which the Doctor impersonates Xoanon from within the ship and orders him to lead the tribe through the mouth of idol only to hear Neeva reply "Yes… Doctor" works very well, as it shows that Neeva has finally accepted the truth that the Doctor has been offering since the start. Neeva is also the subject of a great line from the Doctor, as Leela asks what happened to him and the Doctor answers "too much, too quickly". Calib too is an excellent character, well played by Leslie Schofield. Wily and motivated entirely by politics, Calib is utterly ruthless but nevertheless not an outright villain; ultimately, he's a pragmatist, willing to sacrifice anyone who stands the way of his rise to leadership of the Sevateem, but also willing to ally himself with former enemies for the overall good of the tribe. Of all the human characters in 'The Face of Evil', the Tesh are the least sympathetic, but even they are victims of years of indoctrination by Xoanon. And Xoanon itself is not a typical Doctor Who villain, but a seriously mentally ill being, who once cured is gentle and contrite, offering the Sevateem and Tesh the opportunity to destroy it once and for all, or the chance to benefit from its vast knowledge when they suffer it to live. 

'The Face of Evil' is of course best known for the introduction of Leela. After the hugely popular Sarah Jane Smith, the production team takes the sensible step of creating a very different companion for the Doctor, in the form of the savage, tribal Leela. She works beautifully as a companion for several reasons; firstly, for all Sarah's independence and bravery, Leela is far more capable in that regard, very rarely screaming, and facing any threat fearlessly with drawn knife. Secondly, for all her lack of education, she is not stupid (it is Leela who provides the clue the Doctor needs to find a way through the barrier) and also like Jamie provides a chance for the Doctor to explain the plot without appearing patronizing or without the script becoming contrived. Additionally, she creates more of a teacher/pupil relationship with the Doctor in contrast to the more casual friendship between the Doctor and Sarah, which works very well but is also sufficiently different to be memorable. The Eliza Doolittle comparison often made in reference to 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang' is already in evidence at this point. Finally, she makes for an interesting companion because she is prepared to kill in self-defense. Aside from being something that the Doctor frowns on, which adds a certain edge to their relationship, it also on occasion shows up the Doctor's hypocrisy about this issue, which can be rather interesting. 

Production wise, the studio-bound 'The Face of Evil' looks pretty good. The costumes (which in the case of the Sevateem shown an unusual amount of flesh for Doctor Who) are highly effective, and the sets too work well. Although the trees in the jungle are obviously dressed-up lengths of plastic tubing, the fact that these scenes are shot on film aids suspension of disbelief and it manages to be rather effective. Showing Xoanon as a series of glowing walls rather than a bank of rolls of magnetic tape and clunky buttons means that it has aged far better than for example BOSS, and also allows for a chilling cliffhanger to Episode Three, as the Doctor's screaming face is seen crying "Who am I?" in a high-pitched voice. Even the Horda, arguably the token monsters, look quite effective, despite being small rubber puppets. And the effect of the invisible phantom crushing the alarm clock in Episode One is really quite impressive.

Overall, 'The Face of Evil' is a strong story and an impressive debut from Chris Boucher. The chances of any writer producing such a good story and then following it with an even better one are minimal, so it's funny how things turned out…