Prior to the explosion of the Internet my only knowledge of 'Shada' came from the episode guide in Peter Haining's book Doctor Who - A Celebration. With only the barest remnant of a plot synopsis, it revealed little of the story, and in those days I had no access to either the script or any other source of information regarding it. Consequently, when Doctor Who Magazineannounced that 'Shada' was to be released on video with linking narration to bridge the missing scenes and a copy of the script, I was hugely excited at the chance to see what was, effectively, a brand new Doctor Who story staring Tom Baker. With 'Shada' thus available, I was finally able to see if it lived up to its legendary status. The question remains therefore, is 'Shada' actually any good?

The answer to this question, at least as far as I am concerned, is yes. I'm not about to pretend that 'Shada' is some great lost classic, because it isn't, but nor is it the turkey that some fans consider it to be. It is however a highly entertaining story that is well worth watching. Intended to be the finale of Season Seventeen, 'Shada' captures many of that season's finest qualities, and feels very much at home in the Williams/Adams era, as might be expected. There is humour aplenty, and great use is made of the regulars. There is an outlandish plot that juxtaposes the familiar with the extraordinary, as highlighted by the characters of Chris and Claire, and there are some fine performances from the guest cast, who are given some sparkling lines to play with. But what I love most of all about 'Shada' is the wealth of concepts that Douglas Adams unleashes from the depths of his fertile imagination. I love the idea of a Cambridge Professor being a retired Time Lord whose TARDIS is disguised as his collage rooms; I love the wonderful silliness of the Doctor convincing Skagra's ship that he is dead; and I love the idea of the Sphere. The Sphere in a particular is a great plot device, a hovering football-sized menace that is virtually indestructible and which steals minds, leaving their owners as mindless zombies. As threats go, I find this far more chilling than the threat of death; instead, the Sphere takes everything that makes a person unique, stealing their entire personality and memories and adding them to Skagra's melting pot of minds as part of his selfish desire to join every intellect in the universe to his own. Visually, the Sphere is bizarrely effective; it is nothing but a matt featureless grey globe, but its abilities and invulnerability make it a potent threat; during the resolution to the Episode Two cliffhanger, the Doctor is only able to escape the Sphere thanks to Romana and K9's timely rescue, and later when K9 attempts to destroy it in an unrecorded scene in Episode Five, it merely multiplies itself from the resulting fragments. With the chase through Cambridge in Episode Two completed thanks to the use of Paintbox to add the Sphere to the picture, this becomes one of the most enduring images of the story. 

The Sphere's creator and master, Skagra, is also of note. As in 'The Pirate Planet' and 'City of Death', Adams creates a villain who is more than just a ranting megalomaniac, although Skagra is perhaps the most megalomaniac of Adams' Doctor Whovillains. Despite his protestations in Episode Five, Skagra does basically want to rule the universe, but his motivation and means of achieving his goal make him rather more interesting than he might otherwise be. Ruthless, arrogant and callous he may be, but an unrecorded conversation with Romana from Episode Four implies that his ultimate aim is to bring productive and meaningless order to what he sees as the random chaos of life in the universe; he later talks of achieving the ultimate aim of evolution, by creating one single godlike universal mind. This is hardly a valid justification for his crimes; as the Doctor points out, Skagra doesn't bother to ask anyone else if they want to join their minds to his, but at least he has more vision than someDoctor Who villains. One of my main sources of regret of 'Shada's incomplete status is that Christopher Neame never got the chance to record all his scenes. Whilst I've heard his performance described as "camp" (a word that seems to be used with little consistency between different fans), my personal opinion is that his recorded scenes demonstrate a cold, rather sinister performance that perfectly fits Skagra's restrained personality throughout the script. He seldom indulges in verbal sparring with the Doctor or Romana, instead seeking to achieve his aims as efficiently as possible, and Neame's intense focus befits this personality very well. Indeed the only time Skagra really loses his composure is during his final scene (which happily, was recorded), as his Ship gleefully imprisons him, having switched her allegiance to the Doctor. Even when Skagra is gloating, his dialogue suggests a very matter of fact, business-like attitude, which perhaps explains why he is so frustrated by what he sees as the wasted opportunity that is life throughout the universe, possibly believing that great things could be achieved if everyone thinks like he does. Besides, Neame manages to look passably sinister in a broad-brimmed hat and silver cloak, which is impressive by anyone's standards, although I think I'd rather wander around Cambridge dressed like that than wearing the corduroy nightmare that he dons later. 

Having discussed Skagra and his Sphere, it is also worth mentioning his other two creations. The Ship is a great character, tricked by computer logic into obeying the "dead" Doctor, despite being highly suspicious about this state of affairs. The fact that she eventually betrays Skagra because she likes what the Doctor has done to her circuits is rather amusing, and typical Adams; it's also refreshing to see a villain hoist by his own petard but left alive, humiliated and defeated, at the end of aDoctor Who story, instead of meeting a more traditionally grisly fate. I also suspect that the Ship is not actually the slave to logic that she claims to be; her treachery in Episode Six suggests that she is a fully fledged personality in her own right, and it would be in keeping with Adams' irreverent sense of humour if she simply went along with the Doctor's daft argument in Episode Three because she was intrigued by him. I'm hypothesizing of course, but if this is the case, it might also suggest that her cutting off of the oxygen supply at the end of Episode Three is born out of a desire to deflate the Doctor's smug satisfaction that he's seemingly outwitted her, rather than because she feels the need to conserve resources. 

Skagra's other creation is the Krargs. If I recall correctly, when 'Shada' was first released on video, the review in Doctor Who Magazine suggested that we be grateful for the fact that only one scene was actually recorded with a Krarg, since it looks terrible. I find this rather amusing, given that Season Seventeen boasts Erato, the Mandrels and the Nimon, and I for one am glad that footage of a Krarg exists. In fact, the cliffhanger to Episode Four, as a burning Krarg advances on the Doctor and Chris is one of my favourites of the season. Whilst the Krarg is not one of the series' finest monsters, it does have a certain unstoppable menace to it that works rather well, despite its flares, and its lack of visible features adds to its ominous air. With K9 often used as a convenient tool by writers to deal with threats to the Doctor, the Krargs serve another purpose, since K9 cannot shoot them without making them stronger and cannot hold them off at all without shooting them. Combined with the Sphere, the Ship, and Doctor Caldera's assessment of Skagra's genius, the Krargs also help to convey just how formidable an opponent Skagra really is. 

Despite the wealth of imaginative concepts that litter 'Shada', not all of them work well. Douglas Adams is renowned for using technobabble to gloss over trivial plot details, but he pushes his luck by actually glossing over explanations for plot developments. The Doctor's survival of the Sphere's attack by convincing it that he is very stupid so that it only takes a copy of his mind doesn't really make sense, nor does Professor Chronotis' impromptu resurrection. On the other hand, the latter means that we get more of Chronotis, which is no bad thing. For one thing, he's a great character; Denis Carey's portrayal of the absent minded old man in Episodes One and Two is thoroughly endearing and allows for some witty dialogue, as he tries to remember what his memory is like ("a sieve!") and makes jokes about undergraduates. Some of this humour misfires, most notably the "One lump or two… sugar?" joke, which doesn't really work, but on the whole these early scenes are a delight. It's particularly nice to see the Doctor's obvious pleasure in seeing his old friend, which Tom Baker demonstrates very well. The Doctor's obvious inability to stay angry at the old man's carelessness in losing The Ancient and Worshipful Law of Gallifrey is rather touching, and his restrained anger when he discovers that Skagra has killed one of his oldest friends is palpable, Baker once more showing off his ability to clearly evoke the Doctor's mercurial personality. In addition however, Carey shows the Professor's hidden complexities; with the sadly unrecorded revelation that he is the notorious criminal Salyavin, Chronotis' occasionally glimpsed darker side is highly significant, and Carey plays it very well. The Professor's absent mindedness vanishes once he realises who Skagra is really after, and he becomes both grave and deadly serious when he is explaining things to Claire. On the other hand, he never becomes scary, which suggests that the Doctor is quite right to believe that the tales of Salyavin's crimes were massively exaggerated, an idea that the final scripted scene amusingly toys with as the Doctor ponders that he might one day be remembered in much the same way. 

From what recorded material exists of 'Shada', it would seem that the acting is quite good throughout. Daniel Hill is great as Arthur Dent prototype Chris Parsons, dragged reluctantly into a baffling set of circumstances that demolish everything he thinks he knows about physics, and he provides an entertaining foil for the Doctor. This is most obvious during the recorded footage from Episode Four, but it is also evident throughout the rest of the script. Victoria Burgoyne also puts in a good effort as Claire Keightly, in a sadly aborted television debut, and I also have to mention Gerald Campion's performance as Wilkin, which adds to the charmingly eccentric air of the Cambridge University scenes. The regulars are also up to their usual standards, and in fact Adams' script shows the Doctor and Romana as close as they ever got, as they relax in a punt on the Cam on a pleasant October day and have tea and biscuits with the Professor. There is also a great scene in Episode Six, when in the midst of worrying about how he can possible stop Skagra, the Doctor is inspired by Romana and pins a medal to her chest, again showing how well they work together as a team. 

As for the production of 'Shada', it stands up reasonably well. The location filming in Cambridge is gorgeous, and whilst the bicycle chase in Episode Two is pure padding, it is more than worth it. The actual sets are variable; the antiquarian clutter of Chronotis's study meshes perfectly with the location work; the interior of Skagra's Ship and the space station are less impressive, but they are perfectly at home in Season Seventeen. This is also true of the model work, completed for the video release, which looks rather cheap but thus suits the era rather well. What does not suit the era however, is Keff McCulloch's incidental music. McCulloch's music doesn't annoy me as much a sit does some fans, who positively detest his work, and on occasion it works quite well here, such as when the Krarg advances to a thunderous crescendo at the climax to Episode Four, but more often than not it is either intrusive or inappropriate. An example of the former is when Skagra first meets Wilkin and arrogantly barks "You!", a conversation that is almost drowned out by McCulloch's score, and an example of the latter is the bizarrely sinister sting added to the "One lump or two" joke in Episode One. On the subject of irritating production details, Chronotis's incredible vanishing spectacles when the Sphere attacks him in Episode Two are oddly distracting. Finally, one last complaint about a scene that was never even filmed! According to popular legend, the prisoners on Shada in Episode Five would have including a Dalek, a Cyberman, and a Zygon. This would, I can assure you, have annoyed me beyond reason. Why would the Time Lords, who time loop planets and dematerialize aggressive alien interlopers, bother to actually imprison a lone Dalek, Cyberman, or Zygon on a planet reserved for, we are told, their "most feared criminals?" 

In summary, I am enormously fond of 'Shada'. Much as I like 'The Horns of Nimon', 'Shada', despite some faults, would have made a much more fitting season finale, and a far better swansong for Graham Williams and Douglas Adams, and I'd much rather it had been the last broadcast six-part Doctor Who story rather than the abysmal 'The Armageddon Factor'. As it stands however, I consider myself fortunate that it was eventually released on video and I will continue to appreciate as far more than just a mere curiosity.

‘The Leisure Hive’ heralds the arrival of new producer John Nathan-Turner, and new script-editor Christopher H. Bidmead, and starts their era with a bang. The difference in style between Season Seventeen and Season Eighteen is considerable, as demonstrated by the new title sequence, showing the Doctor’s face against the backdrop of a star field accompanied by Peter Howell’s dynamic new arrangement of the theme tune. Although the Howell version of the theme tune is the one I grew up with, I actually prefer both the previous arrangement and the previous title sequence, but the impact of the new versions of both is undeniable. But by far the biggest change in style comes in the shape of the regular cast, as K9 is slowly phased out, and Tom Baker reigns in his performance for a sombre final year in the role. After the increasingly comic approach of Season Seventeen, Nathan-Turner’s new vision for Doctor Who comes as something of a shock; nevertheless, ‘The Leisure Hive’ is an impressive debut. 

Having become increasingly manic in the role of the Doctor, Tom Baker tones down his approach for ‘The Leisure Hive’, harking back to his more serious performances of the Hinchcliffe era. Appreciation of this rather depends on how individual fans prefer their Fourth Doctor, but as I’ve noted in the past, Baker’s tenure is long enough to accommodate such character development. The Doctor’s new mood is reflected in the opening sombre shot of a stark and wind swept Brighton Beach, the bleak atmosphere in keeping with Baker’s increased gravitas, and this continues throughout, with the Doctor’s usual eccentric wit stripped back to a bare minimum. It is still in evidence, as witness by his “arrest the scarf, then!” line and the scene in which he bluffs his way past an Argolin guide by warning him that there are two intruders at large in the Hive, but it is much more restrained than in ‘The Horns of Nimon’ or ‘Shada’. Baker rises to the challenge of restraining himself admirably, but his acting skills are really brought to the fore when the Doctor is aged by five hundred years in the Recreation Generator; the makeup used to make the Doctor appear ancient is astonishingly good, but it is the actual performance that really makes it work, as Baker makes the Doctor tired and absent minded, and changes his voice appropriately. 

Lalla Ward also puts in her usual reliable performance, although given that she tends to play the role straight throughout her time in the series, she isn’t required to tone it down in the same way that Tom Baker does. On the other hand, the serious tone of ‘The Leisure Hive’ does require her to convey a sense of urgency throughout, especially when she’s concerned for the Doctor in the Recreation Generator both in Episodes Two and Four, and she does this very well. The only other regular is K9, once more played by John Leeson. Annoyingly, Nathan-Turner elects to phase out the character, apparently considering him too much of a convenient tool for lazy writers, but prior to actually getting rid of him this approach means that K9 is subject to various indignities during the season, starting here as he trundles out of control into the sea and explodes. I have no objection to K9’s eventual departure, since companions have come and gone throughout the series, but I like K9 and it irritates me that he is subjected to such plot devices to remove him from the action; frankly, I’d rather he just stayed in the TARDIS, as in ‘City of Death’. On the other hand, it would be churlish to critics ‘The Leisure Hive’ for this, given that it is the result of an overall approach by the production team. 

And so on to the story itself. ‘The Leisure Hive’ is beautifully directed by Lovett Bickford and is riddled with impressive camera work and visuals. I’ve already mentioned the opening shot, but there are many more examples of note, including the zoom in on the Doctor’s screaming face at the end of Episode One, the Foamasi unmasking Brock and Clout at the end of Episode Two, and the fade out of the Doctor and Romana on Brighton beach into a star field and then into Argolis. This latter example is worthy of particular note, since it allows for expository dialogue to set the scene in a way that seems perfectly acceptable, rather than an example of lazing writing, which is usually the case with expository dialogue. In terms of production, everything works on ‘The Leisure Hive’, be it the model work, the sets, or the costumes. Peter Howell’s incidental music is perhaps a little brash, but is used well and the noticeable difference between this and Dudley Simpson’s work in prior seasons adds to the bold new approach of the series. 

What really makes ‘The Leisure Hive’ succeed is a combination of plot and acting. From Romana’s summary of the Argolin-Foamasi war in Episode One, and throughout the remainder of the story via the dialogue between the other characters, we are provided with a wealth of background information that gives ‘The Leisure Hive’ a sense of depth. The problem of presenting detailed alien cultures is circumvented by having the Argolin a race devastated by war, whose planet is uninhabitable save for the sanctuary of the Hive itself; thus, we have merely a handful of Argolin, whose cultural background is used as a way of justifying the limited population and providing the basis for the story. A war that lasted twenty minutes doomed the entire species, motivating them to construct the Hive and the Experiential Grid as a means of promoting peace and understanding between alien species. Parallel with the this basic premise, we have the subplot of Pangol’s intentions for his people and he too rides on the crest of a wave of carefully imparted tidbits of information, as we eventually discover that he is the child of the Recreation Generator, the only such child to have been created with deformities, and now in a position to create others of his kind without any of the problems that previously led to a twenty year moratorium on the technology. And in addition to this we have the Foamasi, the other species involved in the war. As with the Argolin, the Foamasi are well motivated; famously an anagram of Mafiosa, the Foamasi seen in ‘The Leisure Hive’ represent two distinct factions, the criminal West Lodge, and the Foamasi Government seeking to stop them. It is unusual to have one alien race presented not as a homogenous group of “monsters” but as a race of people, but to have two is even more impressive. In addition, it allows both writer David Fisher and director Bickford to play with audience expectations as the briefly glimpsed Foamasi who break into the Hive in Episode One turn out not to be the villains of the piece. Visually, both Argolin and Foamasi are well realized, although notoriously the question is raised as to how the bulky Foamasi could fit into their human guises. Fans of this story take note however; an explanation has since been offered in Gary Russell’s ‘Placebo Effect’!

The extensive motivation of the characters in ‘The Leisure Hive’ benefits the story enormously, and means that although there are villains, they are a far cry from the power-crazed madmen often seen in Doctor Who. The phony Brock, superbly played by John Collin with just the right amount of smarminess, is motivated by business, to the extent that he and Clout have been systematically sabotaging the workings of the Hive to drive it into financial ruin, forcing the Argolin to sell Argolis. The ill-fated Stimson is similarly motivated by profit, in his case offering the false promise of survival to Mena in exchange for financial gain, but he is nicely contrasted with Nigel Lambert’s troubled Hardin, who is crucial to Stimson’s scheme but who is forced to deal with his conscience. His genuine concern for Mena becomes increasingly evident throughout, and he makes a sincere attempt to redeem himself for his deceit by eventually saving her life. Also worthy of note is Morix, played by Lawrence Payne who returns to the series having previously played Johnny Ringo in ‘The Gunfighters’, who serves to illustrate the fate awaiting all Argolin by expiring in Episode One. He is nicely contrasted with Mena, who is less prepared to accept the fate of her people, hence her faith in Hardin’s experiments, but who is unwilling to go to the same lengths to save the Argolin as her adopted son. And is it David Haig as Pangol who really commands attention throughout. Pangol is the archetypal angry young man, frustrated by his people’s fate and so desperate to avert it that he is willing to repeat the mistakes of the past in an effort to compensate for them. Haig is totally convincing in the role, presenting Pangol as a man struggling to keep his feelings in check in accordance with Mena’s wishes (witness his appalled “it’s not for sale” in Episode One), until by Episode Three he finally prepares to make his misguided play for glory.

One thing that I would like to mention is that fans who appear to have no grounding in science like to praise Bidmead for his “hard science” approach to the series; what he actually does is use more internally consistent and better thought out technobabble than Douglas Adams, with a few words like tachyon, a genuine theoretical concept, thrown in for good measure. In truth, I’m not convinced that the denouement in Episode Four of ‘The Leisure Hive’ entirely makes sense, but this may be because I haven’t thought about it properly. Nevertheless, this approach does make Doctor Who feel more like science fiction and less like fantasy, which is either a good or a bad thing depending entirely on personal preference. In summary then, ‘The Leisure Hive’ is a striking debut for Nathan-Tuner and Bidmead and an impressive start to the season.

'The Hand of Fear' is a story made memorable only by Sarah's departure and in a season boasting 'The Deadly Assassin', 'The Robots of Death', and 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang' it would probably be completely overlooked were it not for this fact. In fact, it is rather entertaining and possibly deserves slightly more recognition than it gets, but despite that it also suffers from some serious flaws. 

'The Hand of Fear' starts off badly. The early model sequence of Eldrad's obliteration module looks unpleasantly cheap and an irritating scene in which the Doctor and Sarah completely fail to become alarmed by a screeching siren and men gesticulating at them in obvious agitation quickly follows this. After this slightly rocky start however, the first two episodes are actually very good, and I can't help but be amused that when Sarah asks the Doctor where the TARDIS has landed he tells her that it is obviously a quarry. Irony on that scale cannot be accidental. The first two episodes quickly gather momentum and benefit from generally decent special effects work of the disembodied hand moving about, as well as some interesting direction. When shooting people who are under Eldrad's control, Lennie Mayne uses close-up shots of the actors walking towards camera, and this is highly distinctive. In addition, the nicely sinister incidental score adds to the effect, and on top of this there is some rather effective filmed location work for the interior of the Nunton complex. 

'The Hand of Fear' also benefits from some nice bits of characterisation. Renu Setna's Intern, who cheerfully lectures the bruised and battered Doctor on the subject of pain, is quite wonderful. Later, we get Glyn Houston's Professor Watson realizing that he could be facing a nuclear meltdown, telephoning his family for what could be the last time. This could have been a cloyingly sentimental moment, but is acted so well that it just seems quietly touching instead. 

By Episode Three however, things start to fall apart. For starters, Watson is very easily able to arrange a tactical nuclear strike on his own nuclear power plant on the coast of Britain, which frankly beggars belief. Amusingly, this is made even sillier by the fact that he and his remaining staff take shelter from the impending nuclear blast by crouching behind land rovers parked a few hundred yards away. Just when you think it can't get more moronic, Watson tells Sarah to hold her nose and open her mouth to protect herself from the blast. It seems that Bob Baker and Dave Martin haven't learnt anything more about nuclear physics since 'The Claws of Axos'. And then there's Eldrad.

In Episode Three, Eldrad works really well. Judith Paris brings an aloof alien feel to the role, and her costume (which I gather she had to be sewn into) looks pretty good. More importantly, the character of Eldrad works very well at this point. She has already caused the deaths of Carter and Driscoll during her attempt to regenerate herself, and she displays obviously violent tendencies throughout, but on the other hand the fact that she is millions of years and millions of light years from home and seemingly rather confused raises the possibility that she is just as scared as, for example, Professor Watson, and is reacting accordingly out a desperation to survive. This being the case, it is easy to believe that when she reaches Kastria she isn't going to prove to be a straightforward villain, since she seems to be a rather more complex being with interesting motivations. She is also forced to trust the Doctor, and seems to gain genuine respect for him as the story progresses. In short, Eldrad is an interesting character whose true motivations are suitably intriguing. Then she turns into Stephen Thorne. 

It has probably become clear by now that I do not like the Doctor Who work of Stephen Thorne. His horrendously melodramatic and unsubtle booming worked reasonable well in goatskin trappings for 'The Dжmons', but he was horribly amateurish as Omega in 'The Three Doctors', and little better as Maximillian in 'The Ghosts of N-Space'. Here, he is astonishingly bad as Eldrad, a character whom the script in any case reduces to the status of a clichйd ranting megalomaniac. Thorne is so ludicrously unsubtle that at one point, when Eldrad indulges in maniacal laughter, he doesn't actually laugh, he shouts "Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!". After Paris's much more interesting and, crucially, less pantomimesque, performance, it is very disappointing that Eldrad is reduced to this, although fittingly he does have least have a large moustache, which he can possibly twirl when the situation demands. He doesn't even get a decent final scene, since the Doctor just trips him into an abyss with his scarf, but then again he doesn't really deserve one. 

Whatever shortcomings 'The Hand of Fear' has however, they are more than made up for by Sarah's leaving scene. As her final story, 'The Hand of Fear' generally works well; she gets a reasonable amount to do, since it is Sarah who first discovers the hand in the quarry and promptly gets taken over by it. In addition, there are some wonderful character moments between the Doctor and Sarah throughout, from the Doctor's uncharacteristic irritability when he's worried about Sarah in Episode One, to the pair of them admitting that each worries about the other and agreeing to be careful in Episode Three. Sarah's actual departure is probably my favourite companion-leaving scene from the entire series. Her initial tantrum, in which she sums up the various times she's been hypnotized, kidnapped, tied-up, etc, is a great summary of the bad times with the Doctor, but the hurt and disappointed look on her face when she finds out that she really does have to leave because he's been summoned to Gallifrey is a reminder that, however dangerous travelling with the Doctor might be, she also enjoys it enormously. There's a real feel in this scene that these are two best friends who aren't going to see each other again, or at least not for a long time, and that they both find it enormously painful to part company. Tom Baker gets a remarkable amount of emotion into the Doctor's line "Oh, Sarah… don't you forget me." It's a superb farewell, and the final freeze-frame shot of Sarah glancing skyward after the TARDIS dematerializes feels like a fitting tribute to one of the series' finest companions.

After the simplistic ‘Meglos’, ‘Full Circle’ is a return to form for Season Eighteen, benefiting from a rewardingly complex plot and generally excellent acting and production. With no real villain, but instead a struggle against a harsh and alien environment underpinned by plot twist upon plot twist, ‘Full Circle’ is memorably unusual, a fact which ultimately, is its strength. 

The plot of ‘Full Circle’ unfolds beautifully. Initially, a sense of foreboding is created as the Alzarians gather river fruits whilst Decider Draith and Dexeter ominously discuss the early signs of Mistfall and it becomes clear that a threat is looming that will threaten the inhabitants of the Starliner. The premise seems simple; a crashed spacecraft is stranded on an alien world, and its occupants struggle to survive whilst they affect repairs, as the first signs of a hostile threat from the planet in question begin to appear. This is fairly standard stuff, but even at this early stage, the direction and the scripting promise a great deal, by carefully building suspense. Towards the end of Episode One, as the Starliner is prepared to be sealed until Mistfall has passed, this promise is delivered on as the Marshmen erupt from the waters in slow motion as the Doctor and K9 look on, making for a highly effective cliffhanger. But ‘Full Circle’ quickly expands beyond this seemingly basic premise as plot twists allow revelation after revelation and it becomes clear that all is not as it seems. The scene in Episode Three boasts two such revelations in the same scene, as the Doctor angrily reveals to Login that the Starliner has long been ready for takeoff and accuses the Deciders of prevaricating needlessly to maintain the status quo; Baker delivers his lines in this scene superbly, in one of my favourite moments of the entire season, only for his towering contempt to be deflated by Nefred’s solemn response that whilst the Starliner is ready for takeoff and has been for generations, nobody knows how to fly it. But this is as nothing to the superb final episode, in which the full truth of events on Alzarius is revealed, the Doctor finally realizing that when the Starliner first crash-landed, not forty generations ago, as its occupants believe, but forty thousand generations ago, its original inhabitants died. The clues as to where the current occupants therefore came from are carefully built up throughout the last two episodes, but it is only when the Doctor pronounces that the Marshmen are the ancestors of the current Starliner inhabitants that everything finally falls satisfyingly into place. 

The way in which the Marshmen are utilized in ‘Full Circle’ is one of the story’s highlights. On a basic level, they are of course monsters, and in this respect they work well. In fact, it is to Peter Grimwade’s credit that they work as well as they do, thanks to his excellent direction; look at a static photograph of the Marshmen and they are clearly men in rubber suits, but on screen they are highly effective. Their masks look both alien and bestial, which enhances their effectiveness, and as they stride through the mist brandishing clubs threateningly they are passably scary by Doctor Who’s standards. Further adding to their credibility, the actors inside the suits do a good job of making them seem animalistic and the snarling sound that they make as the maraud through both marsh and Starliner complements this. And the script does very well at making them seem dangerous; they kill numerous people, including of course Varsh, and after they are driven out of the Starliner at the end of Episode Four, it is made clear that if the ship stays on Alzarius, they will be adaptive enough to eventually discover a way of getting back inside. But it is this very ability to adapt that makes them not monsters but animals, and once it is explained just how they relate to the occupants of the Starliner it is impossible to view them as the bogeymen that they are initially made out to be; ultimately, their ability to evolve is not monstrous, but fascinating. If this argument fails to convince the audience, we are also given the Marshchild, which further demystifies the Marshmen. The Marshchild’s story is a tragic one; after its early playful reaction to the Doctor and increasing trust in him, it is cruelly mistreated by the occupants of the Starliner, and is clearly as terrified of them as they are of its adult brethren. Despite the Doctor’s attempts to save it, it is subjected to Dexeter’s callous experiments, designed to allow him to understand the Marshmen. Ironically of course, it is the Doctor, who recognizes the intelligence of the Marshchild and reaches out to it, who comes closest to understanding the nature of the creatures and eventually learns the truth about them. Dexeter on the other hand succeeds only in provoking the hostile reaction in the Marshchild that he expects of the creatures, and is killed as a result. To compound this tragedy, the Marshchild itself, angry and traumatized, dies by reaching out to the one person who has shown it kindness. 

The acting of the guest cast also contributes to the success of ‘Full Circle’, and is generally of a very high standard. I will, inevitably, discuss Adric further below, but the Outlers are well acted and indeed well characterised as truculent teenage rebels, with Richard Willis’ Varsh of particular note, especially during his final scenes as he is dragged to his death during an act of heroism. The Deciders, the story’s other main group of speaking characters, are also well acted and James Bree’s troubled portrayal of Nefred almost compensates for his disastrous performance as the Security Chief way back in ‘The War Games’. The Deciders are very well written; the script allows them to be convincingly portrayed as the prevaricating and indecisive leaders that the Doctor initially believes them to be, whilst also making the eventual revelation that they can do absolutely nothing except maintain the status quo due to circumstances beyond their control entirely believable. Leonard Maguire’s Decider Draith is thus perfectly characterised as a wise and respected leader who has bourn the weight of the secret of the system files but who wishes that he could share them; he reprimands Dexeter for daring to enquire about these secrets, but in his dying moments he tells Adric to let Dexeter know that they have “come full circle”, suggesting that he finally decides that his people should know the truth about what they are about to face. Nefred and Garif are initially much of a kind as each other, both happy to follow Draith’s lead, and both ultimately indecisive despite their titles. That they are so alike means that Nefred’s change in attitude after he reads the system files is extremely noticeable, and the resulting contrast between the now-deeply troubled Nefred and the concerned but more placid Garif adds to the story’s suspense by indicating that plot twists are to follow. Finally, George Baker’s Login completes the complement of Deciders, and he contrasts very well with Nefred and Garif; when first seen he is fraught with anxiety over the fate of his daughter, and this emotion makes him stand out from Nefred and Garif, both at this stage motivated purely by duty however regrettably events surrounding them may be. It is perhaps Login who represents the best hope for the Starliner, as from the start he questions the acceptance of the traditions that his fellow Deciders automatically observe, and actually reacts to events, such as when the Marshmen invade the Hall of Books whilst Garif and Nefred dither about what to do. At the end, when the Doctor explains to the Deciders how to fly the Starliner, Login reaches for the take off button, only for Garif to stall him, suggesting that such a decision requires some thought. I suggest that when the Starliner is seen to take off on the TARDIS scanner at the end, it is still Login who makes the decision, and that it is he who will lead his people to a new life. 

The production of ‘Full Circle’ is superb. The direction makes the story very atmospheric and also allows it to move along at an impressive pace; the slow-motion emergence of the Marshmen from the waters at the end of Episode One is especially impressive. The generally creepy atmosphere is greatly benefited by Paddy Kingsland’s dramatic and often eerie incidental score, especially during the mist-shrouded location scenes. This location work is very effective, and because the majority of the studio scenes are set within the Starliner, the studio and location work don’t jar. In fact the only set that really needs to feel like it is part of the same environment as the location footage is the Outler’s cave, and careful use of lighting, plus a pretty decent set, means that this is more than passable. It is also interesting that in this story, much more than in ‘Meglos’, we start to see quite a lot of the TARDIS interior (Romana’s room is a case in point), something that becomes more and more common during John Nathan-Turner’s tenure as producer. The only weak point of the overall production is the realization of the spiders, but then this isn’t the first time that unconvincing giant spiders have appeared in Doctor Who… On the other hand, the model of the Starliner is well designed, and its take off at the end is rather well done. Whilst I’m on the subject of model work, it’s also nice to see the TARDIS in flight again, as it passes through the CVE. The costume design is also worth mentioning; I’ve already mentioned the Marshmen, but the costumes of the other characters effectively reflect their social standing, showing that some thought has gone into the designs. The Deciders’ uniforms are of course the most grandiose, whereas the yellow clothing worn by the other occupants of the Starliner are far more worn, as befits clothing that is worn during farming and harvesting. They also contrast nicely with Adric’s clothing, also yellow, but which are far finer quality, reflecting the fact that he is a member of a scientific elite, complete with gold-edged badge. Finally, the mismatched wardrobe of the Outlers depicts the fact that they have chosen to live on the edge of their society.

The regulars continue to be on form here. Tom Baker gives one of his finest performances when unfairly condemning the Deciders for their prevarication, and especially when angrily challenging Dexeter’s experiments with the Marshchild. Whilst I am very fond of much the Graham Williams, I do in retrospect appreciate the fact that for his final season, Baker was forced to reign in the comedy and return partly to the commanding performance he delivered in his first three seasons, whilst also making the role more sombre than ever before as he nears the end. Whilst Season Eighteen feels considerably less cosy than much of Baker’s time as the Doctor, it nevertheless provides a timely reminder of just how good an actor he could be. Having said all that, he still gets plenty of opportunity to display his usual wit, such as his repeated double takes when the Outlers leave the TARDIS in Episode Three. Lalla Ward as Romana is used well, although some of her performance whilst infected with the spider toxins seems rather stagy. Romana benefits from the story in two ways; firstly, her initial recall to Gallifrey reminds the viewer just how much she has changed during her time with the Doctor, as she has come to enjoy her travels and has become considerable more competent. Secondly, her experience gained with the Doctor is nicely highlighted by the comparison with Adric and the other Outlers, which paves the way for her handing over the companion role to a far less experienced traveler and departing to follow her own path. Poor old K9 on the other hand continues to suffer, this time getting virtually nothing to do expect get decapitated. 

Finally of course, ‘Full Circle’ sees the introduction of a new regular, in the shape of Matthew Waterhouse’s Adric. It is very easy to criticize both Waterhouse’s dire acting and Adric’s irritating character, as I will unfortunately demonstrate in due course, but here Waterhouse is quite good and Adric fulfills his role perfectly adequately. Adric’s potential is considerable really; seemingly orphaned, only to see his brother die here, Adric really feels like the outsider he thinks he is here. Separated from his fellows by his mathematical prowess, but too rebellious to happily fit into the society of the Starliner, he is in other ways a typical awkward teenager, and the way in which he latches onto the Doctor as a mentor worthy of his respect and from whom he can learn a great deal promises much for this new Doctor/companion relationship. His confusion when the Doctor tells him to cross his fingers nicely shows how much Adric has to learn and the Doctor slips surprisingly patiently into the role of teacher. It is painfully obvious even here that Matthew Waterhouse the actor is only capable of frowning in puzzlement, smiling sickeningly, or looking blank, but these three expressions are all he needs here. I could cynically suggest that Adric’s stunned look when he has to confront Varsh’s death is actually Waterhouse’s default expression, but given the depths to which his acting will later sink, I’m willing to reserve judgement for now.

In summary, ‘Full Circle’ is an underrated masterpiece and a fine return to form after ‘Meglos’. Ironically, the E-Space subplot for which this story is often so well remembered by fans is almost superfluous and seems to have been introduced solely to sow the seeds for Romana’s impending departure. Nevertheless, it makes for a nice final scene, as the TARDIS and its occupants set off in search of a way home.

Like The Armageddon Factor this is another show where "the memory cheats". When I was a kiddie, this was my all-time favorite Dalek show. Now it's an episode that causes headaches while watching it. A lot of things don't make sense. Davros explains how and why he was able to come back, but it all sounds like baloney. There are lots of unanswered questions and plotholes you could herd a fleet of Drashigs through. After the Daleks "killed" Davros at the end of Genesis, it looks like they rolled his body into the Dalek equivalent of a broom closet, so how does the Doctor know exactly where to find him? Why did the Daleks save his body anyway? Why does Davros "wake up" the moment the Doctor finds him? Since when are Daleks slaves to logic? How can K9 catch laryngitis? ARGH! 

There are other things that give this story a tacky look: Davros wobbles a lot whenever he moves, the Dalek operators are constantly re-adjusting their upper casings, and the fight scene between the escaped prisoners and the Movellans in Episode Four just looks sad. Then there's the Movellans themselves. Looks like they're going to a disco after they leave Skaro. 

Anything good? Yeah. Lalla Ward in her debut as Romana is great. Well, apart from the scene where she blubbers in front of her Dalek interrogators. I don't think Mary Tamm's Romana wouldn't have done that. David Gooderson is also good as Davros. His scenes with the Doctor are the highlight of the story.

There are Doctor Who fans who feel that, after Philip Hinchcliffe left, the series took a downturn, with a greater emphasis on comedy and family viewing, partly due to the criticisms about the programme's violent content from the National Viewers and Listeners Association. Whilst the change in emphasis is demonstrably present in the series once Graham Williams took over, the downturn in quality is debatable, and whilst I do think that the Hinchcliffe era has a greater number of good stories than the Williams era, the actual change in style is not in itself detrimental. Given Tom Baker's mammoth seven-year stint in the role, I feel that his era is large enough to accommodate such a change in tone. For those fans who do bemoan this transition however, 'Horror of Fang Rock' must be welcome indeed; the first story to be produced by Williams it may be, with Holmes still script-editing it is far closer to the gothic stories of the previous two seasons than what would come later.

'Horror of Fang Rock' is in my opinion the best story that Terrance Dicks has written for Doctor Who in any format, without the extensive rewrites from Robert Holmes that elevated 'The Brain of Morbius' to classic status. The story is economical, and perfectly tailored to its format, boasting minimal sets, a memorable monster, and a cast of adequate supporting characters whom Dicks kills off one by one to maintain the tension. The setting is inspired; in many ways a basic "base under siege" story, 'Horror of Fang Rock' could have easily been set in a remote outpost in outer space, but by setting it in a Victorian lighthouse on a fog-shrouded island, he allows the story to benefit from the BBC's famous skill at creating period settings. There are very few sets on display, but they all look authentic, and a lighthouse proves to be an ideal choice as the "base" in question. With supporting characters in period costumes and suitably Victorian dialect, the story is lifted above its simplistic origins in an impressive example of style over content. Add to this a dark sky, a stormy sea, and thick fog, and the scene is set for a simple horror story as a shape-shifting monster kills off the humans on the island one by one. Claustrophobic and tense, 'Horror of Fang Rock' thus manages to be impressively creepy. 

Helping to create a feeling of tension, the story is light on wit, most of the best lines going to Leela and the Doctor and most of these working largely due to the acting of Baker and Jameson. The Doctor's retort to Leela after she has told him not to be afraid is hardly quotable ("What do you mean, do not be afraid?"), but Baker says it with such indignation and shortly after that the fact that it works very well. Indeed, 'Horror of Fang Rock' is almost entirely carried by the regulars, both of whom benefit enormously from the script. Unusually, the Doctor arrives shortly after a suspicious death, but is not suspected; Reuben is vaguely suspicious of him on principle because he suspects that he is foreign (which technically of course, is extremely true), but by the end of Episode One as the ship crashes on the rocks, he seems to have more-or-less accepted him. With no need to prove his innocence, the Doctor instead launches himself straight into the problem of finding out what is at large on the island and stopping it; interestingly, Baker's performance here is so terse that the Doctor's usual dedication to fighting evil wherever he finds it is portrayed almost as an obsession. As noted, the script is grim and almost humourless, and so indeed is the Doctor. He takes command easily throughout, ignoring any complaints from the newcomers about his abrasive attitude and showing obvious contempt for Adelaide. When Leela tells Palmerdale, "Do as the Doctor says or I will cut out your heart!", he doesn't berate her, because he needs Palmerdale to stop arguing. Leela too benefits from uncompromising characterisation, pragmatically dealing with the prospect of death and seemingly relishing the chance of facing a powerful and devious enemy. Her disgust at Adelaide's hysterical reaction to death is memorable and a stark reminder of her savage origins, as is her gloating over the dying Rutan. Equally, the changes that she has undergone under the Doctor's tutelage are also on display, as she dismisses superstition and tells Adelaide that "It is better to believe in science", continuing to show her developing character. As an aside, I find Leela's "pigmentation dispersal" highly amusing; I'm dubious that anyone would have noticed her change in eye colour had Jameson simply stopped wearing her contact lenses without using what is basically technobabble to explain it. 

The supporting characters on display here are so vaguely sketched that they are more caricatures than actual characters, every one of them a walking clichй. Reuben and Vince are prime examples, one an old and superstitious yokel with a distrust of new-fangled technology, the other young, wide-eyed and naпve. Once the ship crashes at the end of Episode One, this trend becomes even more obvious, with the four newcomers each distinguished by the most basic characteristics; Adelaide is pampered and hysterical; Palmerdale is a greedy business man, Skinsale is a corrupt politician, and Harker is a plain spoken, honest sailor. I have mixed feelings about this; on the one hand, all the members of the guest cast put in solid performances which makes their dialogue work, and they are in essence only present to act as "cannon fodder". In this respect they fulfill their function adequately enough, as the rising body count drives the tension of the story. On the other hand, their characterisation is so sketchy that individually their deaths have very little impact; their motivations and backgrounds are conveyed so simplistically that the I failed to develop any real emotional investment in them (a failing incidentally, that renders most of Dicks' original Doctor Who novels barely readable in my opinion). Ultimately however, I do nonetheless find 'Horror of Fang Rock' to be both gripping and creepy, which suggests that all the supporting characters are fulfilling their basic function. 

The Rutan is well used, and as the principle antagonist is crucial to the success of 'Horror of Fang Rock'. It is perhaps remembered more than it deserves to be, for the simple reason that the Rutan have been mentioned in both 'The Time Warrior' and 'the Sontaran Experiment', and this story thus gives us a glimpse of the ever-popular Sontarans' perennial foe. For the most part, the Rutan is not seen, and works very well as an unseen killer lurking out of sight and killing stealthily. The fish-eye view of the Rutan scout is effective, and its ability to change shape and kill on contact makes it a suitably formidable foe. Colin Douglas also contributes to the story's success as "Reuben the Rutan", proving to be capable of a very unsettling smile just before the disguised alien kills anyone. Unfortunately, the realization of the Rutan as an enormous green testicle is far less impressive, and rather deflates the tension thus far created, but by this point the emphasis of the story changes; with virtually everybody dead, the story suddenly concerns itself with a last minute race against time, as the Doctor struggles to convert a lighthouse and a small diamond into a laser beam capable of destroying the Rutan mother ship. It remains for me a rather contrived ending, but works well enough and does provide an explosive climax.

In summary then, 'Horror of Fang Rock' is a story that works well within its limitations, managing to work as an effective horror story on a small budget with shallow supporting characters. Despite its shortcomings, it makes an great start to the new season, and shows considerable promise for the new producer's era. A promise on which the following story utterly fails to deliver…