After the Dalek-free 'The Myth Makers', the following story delivers on the promise of 'Mission to the Unknown', and does it with considerable success. 'The Daleks' Master Plan' is the series first and arguably greatest, true epic, mixing space opera with political intrigue, betrayal and even humour. Key to the success of the story is the Daleks themselves. 

If 'The Chase' showed the Daleks taking another technological step forward, but undermined this achievement by making them creatures of ridicule, then 'The Daleks' Master Plan' redresses the balance; the Daleks here are not stupid, or silly, they are a palpable threat to the entire galaxy. In 'The Chase', the Daleks made the leap to time travel, whereas here they go beyond that. Not only do they again time travel and pursue the TARDIS, but also they have built their ultimate weapon, the Time Destructor. The implication is obvious – the Daleks can conquer anything. We are constantly reminded throughout the story of just how dangerous the Daleks are, whether it is the Doctor asserting that with the Time Destructor they can conquer the entire universe, or Bret Vyon grimly making clear that the solar system is finished if they cannot stop the invasion force on Kembel. This is the first time that the Daleks feel like a threat on a galactic scale. Part of their menace lies not in their attitude towards their enemies however, but also their attitude towards their allies. The Daleks are more cunning and manipulative here than ever before; with the benefit of pre-knowledge, the viewer can easily guess that the Daleks will betray the representatives from the outer galaxies, but the shocked silence when Zephon and later Trantis are exterminated demonstrates that the Alliance members did not fully understand what they were letting themselves in for in their greed for power. Mavic Chen also serves to remind us of the true nature of the Daleks; when he discovers that the Doctor and Steven have been accidentally transmitted to Mira with the Taranium core, he is clearly on the verge of panic, knowing how they reward failure. Even before this, his conversations with Karlton let us know that he realises the danger of the game he is playing and that he does not underestimate the Daleks. Tellingly, it is only when he descends into madness in the final episodes that he loses his fear of the Daleks, which quickly results in his death. Far more convincingly than 'The Chase', 'The Daleks' Master Plan' makes it clear that there is no escape from the Daleks. When the Doctor and his friends flee Kembel in Chen's Spar, the Daleks force them to crash on Desperus from afar and send pursuit ships after them; when they escape to Earth, Chen and his co-conspirators are waiting for them; on Mira, the Daleks soon catch up with them, and when they flee in the Dalek ship the Daleks on Kembel ensnare them first by remote control of the vessel and then in a magnetic beam. Even when they escape in the TARDIS, the Daleks can follow them through time, and it is only by returning to Kembel and confronting the Daleks that the Doctor and Steven can be free of them. Even when the Daleks are defeated, the cost is high, for at various points during the Doctor's struggle to defeat them, Katarina, Bret Vyon and Sara Kingdom all pay the ultimate price. 

The length of 'The Daleks' Master Plan' is in some ways instrumental in its success. Wisely, having effectively had a build-up in the form of 'Mission to the Unknown', the story starts with incredible intensity from 'The Nightmare Begins'. During this episode, the TARDIS arrives on Kembel with the Doctor already under stress due his need to find help for Steven, who was wounded at the end of 'The Myth Makers'. Within the episode, Steven is recovered, but he, the Doctor and Katarina are separated from the TARDIS on a hostile planet infested with Daleks. Bret Vyon, whose partner has just been exterminated and who is equally stranded, joins them. Soon, they are driven out of the jungle by a fire started by the Daleks for that very purpose, the Doctor is forced into a desperate gambit to find out what the Daleks plans are and how to stop them, and this results in a relentless chase through space, as they struggle to stay alive and find a way to stop the Daleks for good. The first six episodes of 'The Daleks' Master Plan' are some of the most fraught and thrilling episodes in Doctor Who up to this point, with the Doctor under threat from the pursuing Daleks, the criminals of Desperus, Chen and his allies on Earth, and the vicious invisible Visians. Inevitably, the death of new companion Katarina in 'The Traitors' only adds to the oppressive, doom-laden feel, as indeed does the death of new friend Bret Vyon. In addition, the TARDIS remains on Kembel whilst the Doctor is in space or on other planets. Whilst he has frequently been separated from the TARDIS during the series up to this point, he has never been so isolated from his beloved ship. In '100,000 BC', 'Marco Polo', 'The Sensorites' and 'The Dalek Invasion of Earth', he was close to the TARDIS but prevented from getting in; in 'The Mutants' and 'The Web Planet', and 'The Space Museum', he had access to the TARDIS, but circumstances prevented his escape. Here, he is completely cut off from the TARDIS for the first half of the story, and this greatly emphasizes the feeling of danger for the Doctor. Wisely, after six episodes of unrelenting tension, there is a change of tone, with the out and out comedy of the much-maligned 'The Feast of Steven'. This doesn't work quite as well on audio as it probably did when first broadcast, but is nevertheless a welcome light-hearted interlude, and allows the viewer to get to know Katarina's successor Sara Kingdom without the threat of the Daleks immediately looming. The return of the Daleks in 'Volcano' reintroduces the main plot, but the tone remains lighter thanks to the welcome return of the Meddling Monk, out looking for revenge. The comic relief he provides allows episodes eight to ten to be lighter in tone that the first six episodes, without making the Daleks seem silly, as they did in 'The Chase'. Finally however, all distractions are dismissed once more, as the action returns to Kembel for 'The Abandoned Planet' and 'The Destruction of Time'. Once more, the tension of the first six episodes returns, as the Daleks' plans near completion. The revelation that the Daleks have secretly constructed an underground city without the knowledge of the Grand Alliance members again reminds us of the extent of their preparation. Ironically, it is perhaps this discovery that finally tips Chen over the edge; his megalomania is at its peak when he believes that he has been made leader of the council in episode eleven, and the resulting crushing humiliation when he discovers that the Daleks have locked him in the council chamber with the others undoubtedly takes its toll on his questionable sanity, but it is not until he discovers the hidden city and thus realises that the Daleks have been using him all along that he finally snaps, believing that the Daleks will obey him and seemingly oblivious to his own mortality. And it is also this which allows the Daleks to be finally defeated, since the distraction provided by Chen gives the Doctor his chance to seize the Time Destructor and activate it. The sound of the activated weapon provides an ominous backdrop to the final scenes, as the Doctor and his companions struggle to reach the TARDIS, with Sara aging to death in the attempt. After the epic scale of the story as a whole, the climax does not fail to disappoint, as the Daleks succumb to the effects of their own weapon and are destroyed, along with the hostile jungles of Kembel. 

The Daleks are not the only success of 'The Daleks' Master Plan'; Mavic Chen is arguably one of the best villains of the era. Part of his success is due to the fact that he is not just a stock megalomaniac; he wants power yes, but he also has flaws and fears. As noted above, he is terrified when he realises that the fugitives and the Taranium have escaped him on Earth, and it is Karlton who shows him how to turn the situation to his advantage. In addition, whilst he is clearly after power, he wants it on his terms; he doesn't want the Daleks to conquer the galaxy, he wants to use the Time Destructor so that he can conquer the galaxy. Kevin Stoney is superb in the role and gives Chen a commanding presence throughout. This presence is enhanced by Chen's appearance in the two surviving episodes, since he is portrayed as a strange mixture of ethnic groups, which distinguishes him from the other human characters we see in the story. Interestingly, whilst he is an impressive and commanding villain, he is perhaps not the mastermind that he thinks he is; there are hints in episodes four and five that Karlton is in some ways the power behind the throne, though Chen does not realize it, and when confronted by the Dalek Supreme on at least two occasions, he loses his calm and starts shouting in near-panic. And of course, ultimately, when he realises that he has been out-maneuvered by the Daleks all-along, his descent into madness and death is swift. Compare this with, for example, Tegana, who remained stoic and focused throughout 'Marco Polo', even when his plans went wrong, and who ultimately faced death with dignity. For all that I like Tegana, the flawed Chen is the more interesting character. Of course, characterisation is nothing if the acting is not up to scratch, and Stoney is one of the great successes of 'The Daleks' Master Plan'. 

I've noted previously that watching the series in order has given me a perspective on stories that I haven't quite had before, and just as I wished that I didn't have foreknowledge about the episode three cliff-hanger to 'The Time Meddler', whilst watching 'The Daleks' Master Plan' I wished that I hadn't known that the Monk would turn up in 'Volcano'. I think he's a great character, and Peter Butterworth reprises his role to great effect here. The fact that the Monk's creator Dennis Spooner had pretty much taken over the writing chores from Terry Nation by this point undoubtedly enhances the success of his return, as the Monk becomes the first individual (as opposed to the Daleks) recurring Doctor Who villain. The Monk's air of childish glee on Tigus immediately recaptures the spirit of 'The Time Meddler', but what seems initially like it is going to be a reprise of the battle of wits between the Monk and the Doctor becomes something else due to the intervention of the Daleks. The Monk's reaction to the Daleks is priceless, and his constant attempted small shifts of allegiance from the Daleks and Chen to the Doctor to Steven and Sara as he tries to stay alive and make good his escape in light of unexpected complications makes the episodes in which he appears hugely entertaining. After the various time travelers finally leave ancient Egypt, Steven announces that he hopes the Monk escapes the Daleks and will be all right, and this pretty much sums up the viewer's attitude too. Even the Doctor seems to have a soft spot for him and it is a shame that Butterworth never reprised his role again. 

The regulars are at their best in 'The Daleks' Master Plan', with Hartnell on particularly fine form. The Doctor is particularly superb when he confronts the Daleks in episode twelve, holding the Time Destructor and clearly determined to end their threat, whatever the cost to himself, but he has many other wonderful moments. He is his usual cantankerous self on several occasions, especially when dealing with Bret, whose first concern is the safety of Earth rather than the safety of the Doctor's companions. He shows icy contempt when dealing with Chen, and exasperation when dealing with the Monk. Whatever the Doctor's mood, Hartnell never falters. He again gets to do comedy during 'The Feast of Steven' and when dealing with the Monk, but also excels at pathos after first Katarina and then Sara dies. And he gets one of my favourite first Doctor lines when he tells the police inspector, "I am a citizen of the universe, and a gentleman to boot!" Peter Purves again excels, proving that Steven really is one of the most underrated Doctor Who companions. One of the things that I like about Steven is that his character develops believably as his time with the Doctor continues. In 'The Chase', despite his long imprisonment by the Mechanoids, he is a fairly happy go lucky character and this attitude continues during 'The Time Meddler'. During 'Galaxy Four', he seems more jaded, as he is confronted with Maaga's callousness. After his wounding in 'The Myth Makers', he becomes attached to Katarina, who tends him whilst he is sick, and her death I think brings home to him the dangers of traveling with the Doctor, which Bret's and Sara's deaths only emphasize. My impression of Steven is that he looks for the good in people and forms friendships quickly and easily. Whereas the Doctor can look at the bigger picture, Steven is more affected by individual death, and by the end of 'The Daleks' Master Plan' he is, quite understandably, much more serious and less happy-go-lucky than he was in 'The Chase'. Katarina, only recently introduced, is killed off here, which doesn't allow for much character-development. This is a shame, since her wonder at the TARDIS and everything else she sees is rather endearing and is a refreshing contrast with the more assured Vicki. I can see why keeping Katarina on as a regular companion would have been difficult for the writers, but it would have been nice to see her last a bit longer. Her struggle to understand what is going on around her seems to bring out the Doctor's gentler side, and her death, whilst premature, is at least well handled, as she sacrifices herself to save her friends and let them help the people of Earth. Sara Kingdom is a very different character entirely, and is far more aggressive and capable than any other female companion seen thus far in Doctor Who. It is interesting that almost the first thing she does is kill her brother whilst obeying orders, which is not a common way for a companion to join the Doctor. After she realises her mistake and joins the Doctor and Steven, she quickly comes to respect the Doctor and shifts her loyalty from the treacherous Chen to the old man. For the rest of the story, she seethes with the desire to see Chen suffer for his betrayal of Earth and to see the Daleks defeated, and it is this commitment that results in her death, as she leaves Steven to return to the TARDIS and turns back to help the Doctor with the Time Destructor, despite his instructions for her to get to safety. This summarizes her relationship with him perfectly; she likes and respects him, but will let nothing and nobody stand in the way of justice. It is important to note that she is motivated by justice and not revenge, since she gets the opportunity to kill Chen in episode eleven, but allows him to leave on the condition that he goes to warn Earth of the Daleks' invasion plans. Whilst her shooting down of her brother without question is disturbing, it arises from loyalty to what she believes is right, rather than her being a gun-toting psychopath. 'The Feast of Steven', as well as being light relief from the main story, allows us to see Sara in a more humorous context, as she deals with the policemen and then various Hollywood production crewmembers. In these circumstances, she is as much out of her depth as Katarina was up until her death, and she reacts with bafflement, but not anger. Later, as the TARDIS makes numerous brief stops whilst being chased by the Monk, she almost gets caught up in the wonder of seeing new times and places, before the shadow of the Daleks falls once more. The final scene of 'The Feast of Steven' in the TARDIS, as the Doctor serves wine and toasts the viewer is often criticized for breaking the fourth wall, but it offers us the only real chance we get to see this short lived TARDIS crew relaxing and enjoying a brief respite from danger. 

There are many other things that make 'The Daleks' Master Plan' a classic. Based on surviving photographs and the two surviving episodes, Douglas Camfield's direction, and also the set-design and costumes are all first class. Mira is a far more convincing jungle set than Mechanus was, and the Egyptian sets are easily a match for those of any of the pure historicals. The future society from which Chen, Sara and Bret hail is well realized, thanks in part to the sets, which could so easily have been generic minimalist corridors of the future. Another strength of the story is the subtle use of minor characters to convey information, for example Lizan and Roald, who introduce us to the concept of the Guardian of the Solar System. Another good example is the cricket commentators; rather than seeing the next TARDIS landing in a chain of several from the Doctor, Steven and Sara's point of view, we get to see their brief landing from the perspective of, in effect, casual bystanders. This is a novel idea and one that has not been used before in the series. Every minor character shines, from the brutal inmates of Desperus to the ancient Egyptians who refuse to be cowed by the threat of the Daleks and are determined to guard their Pharaoh's tomb regardless of the obvious danger. Overall, 'The Daleks' Master Plan' is one of the greatest Doctor Who stories of the era, and one of the best Dalek stories ever. Whilst the missing ten episodes are a great loss, we can at least be grateful for the fact that it works surprisingly well on audio.

It's said every fan can remember when they first found out huge chunks of Doctor Who didn't exist any more. Personally, I can't. But I can remember one precise moment when this came home brutally. I was hungrily lapping up the reviews in The Discontinuity Guide when I came across the exultant review for 'The Massacre'.

Considering we're talking about four episodes of an old TV show, I don't think I've ever been as frustrated, angry and upset as that by the myriad injustices ranged at me through various hobbies [Fulham's continuing inability to play football; Marvel nixing plans to continue Transformers after the US material ran out; Todd McFarlane stopping Miracleman; Luca Badoer's gearbox at the Nurburgring]. This thing sounded like an absolute masterpiece. And I was never going to see it.

I've still never really seen it, but thanks to the Loose Cannon recon, I've come as close as anyone has since it was last transmitted.

Before getting this tape, I had to temper my excitement to avoid disappointment. Historicals have never really been my favourite of 'Who's many little sub-genres. 'The Aztecs' and 'The Gunfighters' are both well-produced, well-made, slick, and don't drag too much, but there's just something inherently mediocre about them. 'The Romans' had proved an exception to the rule, mainly through a hilarious Dennis Spooner script and some superb comic playing. Most of the historic novelisations I'd read had verged on ordeals [the exception being Donald Cotton's brace]. And 'The Massacre' was likely to be like 'The Aztecs', a po-faced 'straight' script populated by theatricality. Add into this that the Doctor only really appears to book-end the story, and I'd talked myself out of expecting a classic.

And 'The Massacre' is deadly serious. But it's drama of the best kind. Utter conviction permeates the whole thing. Even as a reconstruction, the doom-laden atmosphere is phenomenal. To be frank, I count my previous ignorance of the historical events in the story as a plus. I did pick up on the inevitability of the events, feeling the downwards spiral in a way I only have watching 'Caves of Androzani' and the final episode of Blake's 7. There's a touch of the Gwyneth Paltrows to Nicholas Muss [to explain, this comes from the actress' character in David Fincher's Seven, where she's so nice compared to what surrounds her you know she's not going to make it] which signposts his tragic fate early on, but this doesn't damage the inexorable machinations. Just as in 'Androzani' or 'Blake', you find yourself hoping against hope that something's going to change the end result, while knowing that it won't.

One thing that is very interesting is Hartnell's double role as both the Doctor and the Abbott of Amboise. While he doesn't perform totally differently as some sources have it, this actually works as a strength. While he tones down the first Doctor's distinctive mannerisms such as the 'hmms', and gets his lines right, there are a few moments when the Abbott seems to be making it up on the spot, and his blundering could be the Doctor hindering injustice. These, allayed with Steven's confusion, keep the viewer guessing that vital bit longer. Along with the first regeneration, the Abbott's death is a moment I'd have loved to have seen as it was broadcast. Still, knowing that Hartnell would last another six stories doesn't diminish the effect, as Steven's reaction is enough to keep anyone watching interested.

Steven is really the star of this story, and Peter Purves rises to the occasion marvellously. It's difficult to judge Steven considering so few episodes of his survive, but it's fair, I think, to generally cast him as a solid but unspectacular standard male companion, largely a knock-off of Ian in the early days before he got used to it all. However, given a meaty script Purves really delivers - the viewer can empathise fully as he seems abandoned by the Doctor, then feel his frustration and desperation as the Abbott's freak similarity to the Doctor ostracizes him from Nicholas, seemingly his only friend.

Especially worthy of praise is Steven's rage at the Doctor inside the TARDIS, and the Doctor's melancholy soliliquoy after Steven storms out. This is the first time since the early days of Season 1 that he's really been held to account by one of his companions, a theme that would be revisited many times, most notably with Tegan's departure in 'Resurrection of the Daleks', as well as many a New Adventure. Somehow, though, it's all the more powerful when aimed at this frail old man who just wanders through time, doing his best to help where he can. It was clearly not a callous decision on his part to leave Anne, and he seems tired of the responsibilities his lifestyle has brought with it.

The guest cast is one of the best assembled in the series' history. David Weston is wonderful as Nicholas Muss, instinctively wanting to trust Steven, but paranoid due to the heightened political atmosphere, and pressured by Gaston. Gaston himself is wonderfully blustering and belligerent, with Eric Thompson lending a marvellous intensity to the role. Leonard Sachs lends the role of the 'Sea Beggar' Admiral de Coligny huge dignity and gravitas, making him truly sympathetic, willing to ignore his pride for the Dutch Huguenots. While the bizarre choice of accent as serving girl Anne Chaplette is a distraction early on, you soon get caught up in a strong performance from the young actress, who again gets across the urgency and foreboding of the script. Erik Chitty gives a sweet little performance as Charles Preslin, with the scene where the Doctor tells him he was right all along, is a little ray of hope amongst the gloom. Andre Morell is astonishingly callous as Marshall Tavannes, plotting away with ruthless precision, but the show is stolen by Joan Young as Catherine de Medici, the vindictive Queen Mother. While it was doubtless lent to me by the reconstruction's use of still images, I like to think that Young was largely stationary when delivering her lines in that breathtakingly stoic, detached fashion, which lends a huge edge to the horrors she is perpetrating. The best thing about 'The Massacre' is everyone plays it seriously, and nobody thinks they're Laurence Olivier [I'm looking at you, John Ringham!].

The one thing I wasn't taken with was the arrival of Dodo. While the scene itself is a good idea, snapping the Doctor out of his misery and providing a [rather contrived] happy ending, the playing of it is dreadful. Dodo just blunders in and decides she's alright with flying off with two strange men in a police box - which is just as well, as the Doctor's whisked her off anyway. On top of this, I was downright horrified by Jackie Lane's performance, considering she's not too bad in 'The Gunfighters' or 'The War Machines'. Perhaps inspired by the Carole Ann Ford similarity, Lane acts like an attention-seeking 10-year old in a school play. And if that's her genuine accent, the poor woman has my sympathy. Still, it's a coda, and it doesn't effect my enjoyment of the story any more than Nyssa's silly fall spoils 'Four to Doomsday' or the trailer for 'Boom Town' scuppers 'The Doctor Dances'.

The script is marvellous [have you noticed how many Doctor Who scripts that have some production strife or other are really great? 'City of Death', 'Horror of Fang Rock', 'Pyramids of Mars' etc.], full of scenes that range from the uplifting to the chilling, weighed towards the latter. The attemted assassination of de Coligny is a wonderful tense scene as Steven and Nicholas attempt to intervene, while the realisation of the massacre itself is worthy of the highest praise. It's more powerful than if we saw de Coligny, Nicholas et al killed off one by one as the true scale of the atrocity can be seen and felt, capturing a sense of these fully rounded characters just being a few amongst so many deaths.

Loose Cannon's reconstruction work is simply marvellous considering the scant material available. Only a few composites can be told from the genuine stills, and they must be thanked for bringing this masterpiece to us.

And a masterpiece it is. When you consider as a reconstruction it tallies with the Discontinuity Guide's verdict of "Not only the best historical, but the best Hartnell, and... arguably the best Doctor Who story ever", if the actual episodes ever turn up, it would be considered Doctor Who of the very highest quality.

The first time I ever heard 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' was when the CD was released; I'd previously obtained bootleg low-quality copies of many of the missing stories, but this wasn't one of them. I'd also never read the script, or a detailed synopsis, so my only knowledge of this story came from John Lucarotti's novelisation. Now I'm quite fond of this particular novelisation, but it differs significantly from the television serial on which it is based, with a far more active role for the Doctor, including him impersonating and eventually meeting the Abbot of Amboise, and saving de Coligny's life. Knowing that the soundtrack would be different but not sure in what ways, I was fairly dubious when I first listened to it. I need not have worried though; 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' is an astonishingly good story. 

'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' is a return to the more serious type of historical story, after the outright comedy of its historical predecessor, 'The Myth Makers'; given the traumatic ending of 'The Daleks' Master Plan', this is entirely appropriate, as the Doctor and Steven are in sombre mood. In fact, it is probably the bleakest historical, with only 'The Aztecs' to rival it. From the moment Steven finds himself alone in a bar in sixteenth century Paris, a feeling of tension and doom slowly permeates the story and builds inexorably towards the climax. The tension between the Huguenots and the Catholics, and the persecution of the former, is subtly introduced at first, with Gaston's surly manner revealed to be a directed specifically at his Huguenot customers, rather than at that his clientele in general. Likewise, Nicholas and his friends mock the Catholics, and it is immediately obvious that this mockery is barbed; the underlying tension is palpable and deep-seated. This sets the scene very effectively, as does Charles Preslin's obvious paranoia on learning that the Doctor has been searching for him. From this point on, the antagonism between the Catholics and Huguenots grows, with Anne Chaplet's terror on hearing talk of Vasey (sp?) immediately alerting the viewer that what is to follow is going to be unpleasant. This is basically the crux of the plot, as the story races towards the massacre itself, but what really makes 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' stand out is the exact way in which the story unfolds. For me, three factors are really vital to the success of this story: the political machinations of the royal court, the Abbot of Amboise subplot, and Steven. 

The scenes in the royal court of Charles IX drive the actual massacre plot, as Tavannes, de Coligny, the King, and Catherine de Medici, discuss the state of France and what is to be done about it. On the one hand, we have de Coligny, a Huguenot, striving for peace and looking to the marriage of Henry of Navarre to a member of the Catholic royal family to cement this peace. De Coligny has the friendship of the King, and his voice carries some weight with him. On the other hand, we have Marshal Tavannes, who secretly despises the Huguenots but who is not so unwise as to actual say as much in the presence of the King. During 'The Sea Beggar', we see these two carefully trying to win over the King, de Coligny for the cause of peace, and Tavannes out of a desire to prevent the Huguenots gaining power and status equal to that of the Catholics. The King is portrayed as indecisive and reluctant to actual deal with the issues raised, but his friendship with de Coligny initially suggests that he will be able to avert the coming atrocity. Such hopes are swiftly dashed however, as it becomes clear to the viewer that Tavannes is planning to have de Coligny assassinated. The assassin is ultimately unsuccessful, but as a result the furious Tavannes has his accomplice the Abbot killed, which he blames on the Huguenots, thus catalyzing the start of the massacre. However, it is Catherine de Medici who actually orders Tavannes to raise a mob against the Catholics, in one of the most chilling scenes in Doctor Who to date, with even the Marshal shocked at her ruthlessness; as he notes, if a mob is raised "innocents" (meaning Catholics) will suffer as well as the Huguenots, but her desire to see the Huguenots butchered is so great that she dismisses his concern. So venomous is Catherine de Medici in this scene that Tavannes seems briefly sympathetic by comparison, until the viewer is reminded that his concern is for the Catholics alone and that his insistence on sparing the Huguenot Prince Henry of Navarre is motivated purely by politics. This scene and the rest of the build-up to the slaughter in 'Bell of Doom' is one of the most shocking portrayals of casual evil in Doctor Who, and is all the more potent because it comes not from some raving megalomaniac or all-conquering alien race, but from a group of people motivated by religious differences. Simon Duvall's gleeful anticipation at the coming carnage and his disappointment when he discovers that Tavannes has other plans for him is sickening. 

The Abbot of Amboise subplot is well handled and allows Hartnell to show off his acting skills by playing a different role. It has been noted that his performance is so precise and impressive that it suggests that Hartnell's flustered delivery of many of the Doctor's lines is characterisation, and although I'm not sure that this is true in the case of some of his more blatant fluffs, it is certainly a convincing theory (although he could just be concentrating harder than usual because he's playing a different character). Whilst I generally frown on doppelganger plots in fiction, since they are basically plot contrivances, the Abbot's resemblance to the Doctor works well here, and not just because it makes life awkward for Steven. It is commonly known now that the Abbot and the Doctor are separate characters, but at the time of first broadcast, this was presumably not the case, and the Abbot is played such that the viewer must suspect without foreknowledge that he is indeed the Doctor. The Huguenot's suspicion of him causes them to turn against Steven when he mistakenly tries to explain that he knows the Abbot, but aside from this we are given no clue that he his who Nicholas and his friends believe him to be. When he schemes with Tavannes, who clearly has little patience for him, it is unclear whether he is a genuine co-conspirator out to destroy the Huguenots, or whether he is the Doctor in disguise, bluffing in order to gain some kind of advantage. It is only when the Abbot's corpse is found by Steven that it becomes obvious that he is not the Doctor, since killing the Doctor off in such a way would be an unlikely end to a popular children's television series. Which brings us to Steven.

I've stated previously that I think Steven is hugely underrated, and 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' demonstrates perfectly why. With the Doctor sidelined and Steven the sole companion at this time, he gets to take centre stage. As in 'The Daleks' Master Plan', he demonstrates his easy-going nature and talent for befriending people, but also gets far more to do. When Nicholas comes to believe that he is a spy, he determines to clear his name and prove that the Abbot is really the Doctor, and throws himself into the events around him, acting as mentor to Anne, of whom he quickly becomes protective, and trying to warn the Huguenots of de Coligny's impending assassination. Rather than simply deciding to return to the TARDIS and wait for the Doctor, or remain at the pub where they arranged to meet, he becomes involved and finds himself struggling to defend himself in a brief sword-fight and being chased by a lynch mob as a result. He is more than capable of carrying the story alone, which is testament to both the character and also to Peter Purves' acting skills. It is in 'Bell of Doom' however that he really shines, as the Doctor returns, realises what is about to happen to Paris, and drags Steven protesting back to the TARDIS, leaving Anne behind. This is the first historical story to feature Steven in which the issue of not interfering in history really arises. Although he witnessed the Doctor's determination to stop the Monk's interference in 'The Time Meddler', it is only now that the reality of this strikes home, and it is not an easy lesson; unable to help Anne Chaplet and his Huguenot friends, an impassioned Steven angrily takes his leave of the Doctor, furious at his unwillingness to intervene and try and make a difference. It is worth noting again how much he has changed since 'The Chase', his happy-go-lucky attitude knocked out of him by recent events; the implication is that the death of more friends after the traumatic events of 'The Daleks' Master Plan' is too much for him. Ultimately however, his departure is brief, with the arrival of Dodo returning him to the TARDIS, and the implication that she is a descendent of Anne, who therefore must have survived, perhaps allowing him to see history's bigger picture in the way that the Doctor does. 

None of the good aspects of 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' would be anywhere near as effective if the acting were poor, and in fact it is exceptional. In addition to Hartnell in both roles, and Purves, Leonard Sachs' dignified Admiral de Coligny, Andre Morell (my favourite Quatermass) as the scheming Marshal Tavannes, and Joan Young's chilling performance as Catherine de Medici, all steal the show. No discussion of 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' would be complete either without mentioning the Doctor's superb soliloquy at the end of 'Bell of Doom', as Steven leaves him. It is in sharp contrast to his almost callous attitude earlier in the episode when he realises that he and Steven need to leave Paris; his advice to the terrified Anne on how to find safety is clearly an afterthought. My only real criticism is the final scene, which I mentioned above. Whilst Dodo's introduction serves to lighten the mood and reassure Steven that Anne survived, it is horribly contrived that one of Anne's descendents should literally stumble into the TARDIS on its next landing. Nevertheless, this is a trivial issue, and overall 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve' stands as one of the finest stories of the era.

Season 3 is a bit of a shambles really, but then going as it did through three producers that’s only to be expected. Consequently much of the stories are sub-par, although it does contain its share of greats. The Ark, however, is one of the only complete stories that survive this fragmented period. People criticise this and justly, although calling it too much like Star Trek is a bit unfair seeing as it predates that show (although an anagram of its name is “ah, Trek”), but when you consider what it lost it does give rise to the whole What Were They Thinking question. That said, it’s by no means a lazy episode and gets full marks for effort.

The Ark has a big advantage of having Barry Newbery as a designer and he delivers some outstanding sets and special effects, creating an extremely impressive looking episode. The jungle set is outstanding, looking absolutely perfect (even though black and white does mask imperfections), and the inclusion of a live elephant is the icing on the cake. The story’s major icebergs though are the Monoids, probably the worst monsters of the decade; they could be reasonable (not great, but perhaps not so heavily criticised) were it not for comparatively minor details such as their hippy-wigs and the fact that the actors’ legs are held together so that they walk like they all have haemorrhoids. I noticed that there were no Monoids aboard Platform One, as The End Of The World takes place at exactly the same time as this; the production team of the new series have decided wisely which elements are best left in their own eras. 

The story still has an ace card, though, and that’s Tristram Cary’s superb score, which shows how good electronic music could be back in the 1960s. I know the score dates back to The Daleks, and was far more appropriate to the tone of that story, but even so I lap up every opportunity I can get to hear it.

The elephant, toucan, lizard…they’re all great; it’s only the Dodo that annoys. I’ll not mince words: Jackie Lane is absolutely pathetic, and she drags the episode to floor level from the moment she steps out of the TARDIS with her stage-sneezes and her cold symptoms that get switched off when they’re not needed by the story. In fact she’s so bad that even Peter Purves, normally very good, seems uncomfortable – when she trills “Earth? Earth?” at him in that annoying voice I just want to strangle her. She did improve slightly in her short period as a companion, but here she is abominable. Hartnell soon arrives though and he well and truly sorts them out, as good an actor in his third season as he ever was, despite his increasing sickness. The “indoor nature park” is so obvious and takes so long to set up that it really dates the story to a time when the audience was patronised by some writers (they still get patronised now if I’m honest, but not in the same way).

Is it me, or does that crewman who gets miniaturised seem like the Arnold Rimmer type? The special effect of his punishment is good if a little silly, and there are some more fantastic (and huge) sets on display. 

The writing in this episode is good, and the dialogue is never boring to listen to. Characterisation is a major problem though with people being portrayed in very obvious terms: so it is that Zentos and Controller play an exaggerated version of Good Cop Bad Cop when the regulars are brought to them. While as I said it’s worth watching to an extent, this story never rises above the level of Moral Lesson For The Kiddies territory. Dodo spells out the concept of Noah’s Ark when it would be better to let it speak for itself - however, while morals and supposed subtexts are a hallmark of John Wiles’s time as a producer, subtlety is not as far as it is possible to tell from his suddenly-curtailed tenure. This story, of the four he helmed the one where he had the most influence, seems typical of his attitude: while it attempts to be meaningful it displays its philosophies at surface level so that what was intended to be deep comes out extremely shallow. It is a shame, as the first episode is generally quite good concerning itself as it does with introductions.

The fever strikes very suddenly; it could have done with more of a set up. The scene where the Controller is struck down is also the first lapse in Jackie Lane’s accent; in a better character that might mean something to me. Zentos transforms into a word-twisting fool; it is a clichй, but he is appropriately dislikeable.

It is episode two where the flawed execution of this story starts to let it down. The excuse that data on the common cold was lost centuries previously is ironic in the light of the missing episodes problem; it’s a shame that there weren’t any missing episodes at this point as otherwise this would be the closest this comes to a subtext. 

Eric Elliot as the Commander is a real ham, sending his dying-man characterisation into orbit, and Steven’s moralising to Zentos (not the last time we’ll have morals given to us on a plate) annoys; the Controller is even used to provide a commentary about it. However, although I’m not sure it was intentional, the fact that Zentos only really starts to care when a human dies undermines the idea of racial utopia very effectively, foreshadowing future events.

Despite some good moments (such as the cliffhanger) Michael Imison’s direction is also lacking, and his penchant for setting up some kind of explanation (“now listen carefully…”) and then cutting does seem very corny and B-movie like, although the worst moment is not now but in the second half when the Monoids go into a huddle.

The destruction of Earth looks wonderful though, as this story boasts some brilliant special effects. It’s the cliffhanger that steals the show though, slow and sombre, making Cary’s music actually fit for once. The double-plot idea stretches credulity, as it is hard to believe that the TARDIS would spontaneously rematerialise at the exact end of the journey (although it’s no worse than the randomiser taking it to Skaro thirteen years later). While it doesn’t quite work its concept is very good and original though, making it even more of a shame that this story isn’t a success; it really could be.

The scanner effect is good, and I’ll contradict myself and say that there is some good direction that gradually reveals the reversal of fortunes between humans and Monoids. Their voices are slightly daft but nowhere near as bad as they are sometimes made out to be; the Monoids certainly sound better than they look.

The third episode of a story is notorious for being dull, but I’ve never had any real problems with them myself. That said, there is a gigantic exposition scene here that gets by only through assured dialogue. The pill being dropped into the water is another superb effect, although why it suddenly transforms into a bowl of peeled new potatoes is beyond me. The spacecraft effects are similarly good, this being an example of how the black and white years can surprise. I’m perfectly prepared to overlook the visible wires and the fact that the statue falls downwards at the end. Refusis II is a well-realised alien planet, not looking too much like a set. A Monoid trips over coming down some steps, but Cary’s score stretches out into its full majesty. The Refusians sound good and their invisibility is well done, although the explanation of a solar flare being responsible for their condition is stupid and lazy – and lazy is a criticism I’ve tried to avoid for this story. The cliffhanger is a bit strange, with Hartnell not making the prospect of being marooned seem very dramatic.

By episode four I’m getting tired of all this, and I’m even going to criticise the visuals by pointing out the painted backdrop in the Ark that can be seen waving about. The search for the bomb could be dramatic if its location hadn’t already been revealed to the audience, and similarly the Monoids wondering who is flying the shuttle is dwelled on pointlessly. There is lots of eavesdropping in this episode, which drives the plot. With every criticism, I lament the promising idea and introduction yet further.

The insurrection among the Monoids is well written but with such poor monsters it’s hard to care about them really. Their battle scenes are pathetic, as they hobble around with their fastened legs shining lights at each other; they’re so pathetic that I feel sorry for them when they die. Maharis is equally irritating, reminding me of Weyland Smithers. 

And so on, so forth – the bomb is found and explodes harmlessly (another decent effect), and the moral is finally and unsurprisingly hammered home. All that follows is a poorly-done lead-in to The Celestial Toymaker, with Dodo and Steven (in absurd costumes) taking ages to notice the Doctor is fading away. In fact, even the Doctor takes his time to realise it.

I feel bad for criticising this story; if it had a facial expression it would be looking at me with puppy-dog eyes, willing me to like it. Sadly, that’s just not going to happen as it is so unsophisticaley made when it should have been so much better. That said, it will always be remembered as a story that tries its very best. There are worse things to be remembered as.

Most of the Hartnell Doctor Who stories that I consider to be overlooked by fandom are either wholly or partial missing from the archives; the exception to this rule is 'The Ark'. Even with its recent video release, it is seldom talked about either fondly or with contempt, although exactly why this should be is not entirely clear. My best guess is that, quite simply, 'The Ark' is an oddity. 

The direction and design of 'The Ark' is exemplary. There are numerous shots that impress, including the take-off of the landers from the Ark, and most notably, the scenes of the invisible Refusian moving objects around, which are incredibly well done. The interior of the Ark is also very impressive, meshing futuristic sets and model work with ease. The giant statue is the best example of this, as the camera switches from shots of its feet to panning shots up the model. The jungle too is excellent, and made all the more convincing by the presence of real animals, especially the elephant. The castle on Refusis II is another effective use of model work, again meshing well with the countryside sets of the planet's surface. The only visual aspects of the production that has aged badly are the space shots, with wobbly landers on strings, an unconvincing nuclear explosion, and a truly dreadful shot of the Earth burning up. The Monoid costumes are another triumph, with the creatures numbering amongst the most convincing aliens of the era. This is largely due to their single eyes, which are achieved by the actors holding them in their mouths and moving them with their tongues. Compare this with the later appearance of Scaroth in 'City of Death', which is far less convincingly achieved. This, and their mop-top hair, makes their appearance much more memorable than generic reptilian alien. Sadly, the human Guardians fare less well, boasting the most absurd costumes of any humanoid characters in the series up until this point, including the Thals; they look very much like a kitsch sixties vision of the future, which I suppose they are, and have aged very, very badly. 

The plot of 'The Ark' is its greatest strength, due to the novelty structure it adopts, effectively being two two-part stories back to back. The first two episodes are basically the build-up, but form a tight drama in their own right; the concept of the Ark carrying the last survivors of humanity to an new world is a good one, and initially appears to be a typical science fiction portrayal of an advanced utopian future society. However, the cracks in the veneer are soon exposed, as Dodo's cold infects the Ark's inhabitants and threatens their future; paranoia and suspicion become rife, and the seemingly peaceful Guardians are soon out not for justice, but for retribution (they want the travelers banished from the Ark, but won't allow them to leave in the TARDIS; instead, they refuse to accept that Dodo brought her cold to the ship by accident and demand that they be ejected into space, and thus executed, as punishment for their crimes). But there are other, subtler, hints that this human society is less advanced than it seems. When Dodo's cold causes an outbreak, they suspect that the travelers are agents from Refusis, their chosen destination, trying to prevent their colonization of that planet; this immediately suggests that the Guardians are determined to colonize the planet whether the native inhabitants like it or not. More importantly, they claim that the Monoids are their friends, and seem to genuinely believe this, but the Monoids clearly form a second class of citizen, occupying the menial tasks on board the Ark. Most tellingly, when the occupants of the Ark become sick, Zentos notes that the Monoids are starting to die, and then adds that it will be really serious if a Guardian also dies, immediately demonstrating the relative importance ascribed to the two different populations by the Guardians. The pay-off for all this comes in episodes three and four, when the Monoids have taken over and the Guardians are reduced to the role of slaves, the Doctor noting at the end that their rebellion is hardly surprising and that both races must learn to live together on an equal footing. Incidentally, the cliffhanger ending to 'The Plague' is another example of a cliffhanger that, whilst still impressive, must have had far more impact on its first broadcast, as the TARDIS returns to the Ark and the travelers discover that the huge statue has been completed and has the head of a Monoid. Even with foreknowledge, it is still a classic moment. 

William Hartnell and Peter Purves once more deliver on the acting front, with the Doctor seeming more of a wise bystander than on previous occasions. He seems less cantankerous than usual, and is determined to help the inhabitants of the Ark. His frustration at not being allowed to try and cure the cold unleashed by Dodo is palpable, as is his delight when he succeeds in doing so. His forgiving and understanding attitude towards Zentos' earlier rabid desire for vengeance is admirable, and he is gracious when he accepts the deputy commander's apology. In the second half of the story, he continues his active role in resolving the situation, speaking on behalf of the Ark's passengers to the rather likeable Refusian, and generally mediating between various parties; it is the Doctor who at the end tells the humans that they must make peace with the Monoids, a sentiment with which the Refusian agrees on as a condition to both races staying on Refusis II. Throughout the series thus far, we have often seen the Doctor deal smugly with villains, only to be suddenly brought up short when they gain the upper hand (the Daleks are the most obvious example, but others range from Lobos, to the Animus, to Nero); it makes a refreshing, and indeed amusing, change, to see the Doctor's obvious contempt towards Monoid 1, whom he speaks to with condescension and sarcasm. There is no particular lesson to be learned from this, but it is highly entertaining. Steven is on fine form as usual, seething with righteous anger during the trial in 'The Plague' and denouncing the supposedly advanced Guardians as no better than their primitive ancestors. During 'The Return' and 'The Bomb', he plays a crucial role in the enslaved Guardians' rebellion, hinting for the first time at hitherto unseen leadership skills, a character development that rises quite logically out of his frustration at being unable to help those around him during 'The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve'. And then there's Dodo.

As a new companion, Dodo fills the young-female-sidekick-for-the-Doctor-to-explain-things-to role, previously occupied by Susan and Vicki (and, briefly, Katarina, although Sara Kingdom rather broke the mold). Since it is her cold that almost wipes out the human race, she is immediately given an active role, which is good way to introduce a new companion, and she immediately comes across as likeable enough, in large part due to the compassion and guilt brought out by the tragedy she unwittingly caused. Sadly, this doesn't last, and in the last two episodes she does very little, not even reacting very much to the revelation that her cold contributed to the success of the Monoid revolution. Nevertheless, I'm not sure why she is quite so reviled by fandom as she is, although her sporadic cockney accent doesn't do her any favours. 

Unfortunately, because of the structure of the plot, there is little for characterisation of the supporting characters in 'The Ark'; the Guardians are two-dimensional, but the Monoids are even worse. Monoid 1 gets the most lines, but he's portrayed as a stock megalomaniac, to such an extent that he actual gloats almost constantly. In fact, the best-characterised supporting character is the Refusian, and even he gets little to do, although he comes across as considerate, thoughtful and intelligent. Nevertheless, 'The Ark' manages to remain interesting throughout, and its unusual structure and excellent production standards compensate for its shortcomings. It isn't a classic, but it is a solid story and undeserving of its relative obscurity.

The first time I listened to “Galaxy 4” on CD (as all four episodes are missing from the BBC archives) I thought that it was one of the weakest stories of William Hartnell’s reign. The second time around I was slightly more impressed, largely because I’ve found that this dialogue-heavy serial is actually more suited to audio than many of the other ‘lost’ stories recently released by the BBC Radio Collection are. Nevertheless, I’m afraid to say that my thoughts on this serial are still far from positive.

William Emms’ story is heavily grounded in the old maxim “it’s what is inside that counts”, and whilst this may be a noble sentiment it is one that is all too often done-to-death in science fiction. The idea that the rather horrific Rills are a race of thinkers, learners and explorers whilst the more aesthetically pleasing Drahvins are an aggressive and warlike species is borne out well in the story, but with no telesnaps or photographs of the Rills the moral of the story falls a little flat – a tremendous shame as otherwise the story works so well in the audio medium. Obviously, this is no fault of the makers of “Galaxy 4” as they were not to know that the story would be junked, or even more surprisingly that forty years on somebody would be writing a review of it!

However, quite a substantial amount of footage from “Four Hundred Dawns” exists, including some shots of a ‘Chumbly.’ Their atrocious nickname (given to them by Vicki) is unfortunately fitting, as they are as feeble in appearance as they are in name. The Drahvins are probably the most interesting aspect of the serial; a race of militant females lead by the despicable Maaga. I’m not sure if Emms was deliberately trying to write a satire about Women’s Lib., but that’s how it comes across at times which is quite amusing considering Doctor Who’s sexist reputation in the sixties and early seventies! I also think this serial could be a possible contender for containing the most ever fluffs by the actors, and whilst that isn’t a damning indictment of “Galaxy 4” in itself, it serves as the proverbial icing on the cake. No, that’s a lie – the icing on the cake is the TARDIS flying past the planet Kembel whilst the Doctor and his companions cheesily say aloud “Oh, I wonder what’s happening on that planet…” dovetailing into their week off…