‘Stop, you’re making me giddy!’

The Doctor, Jamie and Zoe find themselves in the middle of No Mans Land, in the Great War. They soon find their way to the British trench where they are welcomed and sent to HQ. At the headquarters however they find a less friendly welcome. They are soon standing trial for espionage. Things are not what they seem on the front lines.

The War Games is grand in scope. Over ten episodes we are shown the first world war, Ancient Rome, the American Civil War, the War Lords base and (apparently) Gallifrey. Over the course of the ten episodes there is remarkably little padding, the story zipping along until about halfway through, then picking up speed again for the dйnouement. The set design is fantastic, particularly at the British HQ where it seems criminal to have recorded in colour as the set looks so authentic, down to graffiti on the walls. In the technology and base of the alien War Lords too there is much innovative design, and the classic sf device of striking contrasts and kaleidoscope patterns. If the guard’s strange rubber uniforms and diving masks are a little dodgy we’ll overlook them in favour of the splendid Time capsules; suggesting the Tardis ever before the clues of the connection are planted.

Performance wise the guests vary extremely; it is not exaggerating to say that James Bree, as the Security Chief, gives an abysmal performance. The painfully stilted delivery of his lines, no doubt intended to suggest his alien nature, must take up about three episodes running time. Also not so great is Noel Coleman as General Smythe, though it may be partially due to his lines. The majority of the rest of the cast is excellent, however. Special mention should go to Rudolph Walker for an excellent turn as a confused American soldier and to David Troughton in a brief but touching cameo.

Edward Brayshaw, as the War Chief, is compelling. His performance is well judged and in his cunning – and his facial hair - he is almost a blueprint for the Master even before it is revealed that the Doctor is of his race. The scene where he and the Doctor first come face to face is a treasure. Their later scenes also play very well. It seems a pity that the actor spends most of his screen time waiting for the Security Chief to finish dripping his dialogue into the scene. Best guest artist award must go to Philip Madoc however, who is so urbanely evil and calmly vicious that he sets a new benchmark for Who baddies which possibly only he will meet. Whether reclining on top of his desk, or stood facing the judgement of the Time Lords; he is a pleasure to watch.

The regular cast themselves are present and correct. Frazer Hines and Wendy Padbury have little extra to do; even their leaving scene, sad though it is, is quite subdued. Patrick Troughton has some great grandstanding moments however, whether railing against the War Chief for his irresponsible actions, running to escape his people or getting cross when they expect him to choose a new face. Over the ten episodes you probably do get everything you love about the second Doctor, and it is a fitting farewell for him. We learn more about the character of the Doctor in the last twenty five minutes than has been revealed in the previous six years. Interesting that the explanation he offers here for leaving the Time Lords is different to the first Doctors suggestions that they were exiles, on the run. Would the first or the Second Doctor be telling a fib?

Malcolm Hulke has written here one of the most original plots the show has had, and it is a credit to his writing and the production team that the story doesn’t drag, as so many shorter ones do, and that the visuals are never less than convincingly executed. Not the best second Doctor story, but something like a greatest hits of Troughton, backed up with an original plot and some sterling performances. ‘The War Games’ is something special.

Spearhead From Space - new decade, new Doctor, new setting, new companion, new titles, re-arranged theme tune. Shot in colour, entirely on film and location. Phew, that's a whole lot of innovation going on! Admittedly, the latter two elements were forced upon the production team but was there ever such change brought about in one solitary story in the history of the series? An Unearthly Child was literally a new programme, the TV Movie wasn't, not really. One suspects that the Eccleston series will herald the greatest amount of change seen since January 1970. It must have felt odd seeing Troughton in control of the TARDIS having been used to the previous incumbent but all the usual trappings remained; companions, Daleks... Arguably Ark in Space is second only to Spearhead in the 'shock-of-the-new' stakes. Same companions and it carries on directly from Robot but just compare the two productions. Many consider Robot as a Pertwee story starring Tom Baker but no, it feels quite different. Baker, himself, gives it an unique feel and all the other, familiar characters are different because they react differently to a new actor. Ark in Space has a new Doctor, good old Sarah plus Harry but the whole atmosphere has changed. The story is positively charged with Baker, Hinchcliffe and Holmes. The combination is electric.

Spearhead from Space is virtually a new programme. History tells us that the BBC seriously considered scrapping the series in favour of something different. Effectively this happens with Season 7. The TARDIS makes little impact on the story (other than alerting the Brigadier to the possible return of the Doctor) and reference to the past is fairly oblique; Time Lords are alluded to, Jamie and Zoe are not even mentioned. It would seem that the production team were keen to attract new viewers, the complete lack of baggage appears to support this. This story really could have been part of new series completely unrelated to Doctor Who with very little change made to the script. The same goes for the rest of the season, and the next one too. 

Spearhead from Space benefits enormously from the deliberate and expedient changes wrought on the series. I don't subscribe to criticising any story that doesn't heavily feature the Doctor, as long as the story is a good one. Spearhead has a good, solid B-movie type script. This is not a to denigrate it, It's great; it tells a story that anyone can follow. No prior knowledge of the series is really necessary, UNIT is explained and all we really need to know is that something strange is happening in the woods and some soldiers are a bit twitchy. 

Effectively it's a story of two halves. The Brigadier carries the first two episodes and the Doctor takes command in parts three and four. This is probably the Brigadier's finest hour (and a half) and it's a shame that his characterisation isn't continued. He's an intelligent soldier with a pretty good grasp of science and not the Graham Chapman-like figure of later stories (it's easy to imagine Nicholas Courtney inside the TARDIS in The Three Doctors rebuking Troughton and Pertwee with, "Stop this, it's silly!"). The tale kicks in straight away with strange meteor showers hitting the Earth (south east England, naturally) and the way that Pertwee is introduced is a delight. Effectively we are teased by half-glimpses of him. Two hooks for the viewers: mysterious meteors; mysterious man.

The Nestenes are not the most original of genre baddies. We've seen their like before, and since, many times. From Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, the Thing from Another World, Faceless Ones through to Michael Myers and the toy factory of Halloween III. However, this simply doesn't matter. As a baptism of fire for a new Doctor/series they are pretty unbeatable. They have an affinity with plastic - a brilliant conceit because it doesn't have to be explained how this actually works (no cogs, springs, micro-circuitry, etc.) and the ubiquity of the substance itself makes them a formidable threat.

The Autons are probably the series' most monstrous creations simply because they tap into our primal fear of familiar, inanimate things coming to life, be it displays in Madame Tussauds or shop window mannequins. Terror of the Autons extrapolated the idea more fully but Spearhead has it's share of scary moments: Ransome being stalked by a (sinisterly blank-faced) plastic man. General Scobie coming face-to-face with his facsimile and the activation of the shop window dummies. All different manifestations of the same relentless, uncaring and wholly alien menace.

Jon Pertwee makes a great start to his era. He amuses with his bizarre obsession for his shoes, his "Unhand me, madam!" to the nurse (Carry on Doctor, perhaps?) and The Shower Scene that wasn't Psycho or Dallas. This type of humour seems to have a lot of detractors but I can promise you that my 6 and 7 year old boys found if very funny indeed! Pertwee looks simply brilliant; a great, interesting face, imposing stature and flamboyant taste in clothes. He has an imperious quality, no doubt, but a certain vulnerability too. Especially when in hospital and his misfiring attempt to leave (the story precariously poised) in the TARDIS. To a 5 year old boy (as I was when these episodes first aired) Pertwee was peerless.

The story isn't faultless, it has dated and is a little bit creaky in places. Some of Dudley Simpson's music is great (the Auton retrieving the sphere from the crashed UNIT Land Rover) but the score that accompanies the sequence with the Doctor stealing the consultant's car is grating in the extreme; it seems Simpson is unwittingly creating the theme to Worzel Gummidge 9 years early, but not in a good way. Much of the sound isn't as clear as it might be and some of the locations are a bit threadbare such as the Brigadier's office. Caroline John seem ill-at-ease and it's difficult to warm to her.

The guest performances are generally very good; John Breslin plays UNIT's best captain and it's a shame he didn't do more episodes. John Woodnutt brings Hibbert to painful life, you can see his inner conflict in every look and gesture. Channing - great name. Chillingly played by Hugh Burden with the right mix of ruthlessness and intensity - alien but plausibly human.

Spearhead from Space. Scariest monsters, scariest title sequence, scariest arrangement of a scary theme tune. Add to that a very different Doctor banished to an all-too-familiar Earth and you have a winning combination.

As I alluded to earlier, there are many features that this story shares with the Halloween film series. Relentless, terrifying killer (in plastic mask?) wearing blue boiler suit. The much underestimated Halloween III (effectively written by Nigel Kneale - can we deny his influence on 70's Doctor Who?) told the story of a toy factory with a terrible secret, guarded by murderous automatons and presided over by a driven but charismatic boss. The film's finale more closely mirrors Terror of the Autons, this time with the Master mischievously engineering the wanton massacre of the nation's children with dolls (if not Halloween masks). Kneale utilises that other British institution Stonehenge and it is a bit like watching a fun but gory Doctor Who story even if there is no 'Doctor' to Halloween III's Irish-American 'Master'. John Carpenter is a self-confessed admirer of Kneale's work and he in turn (unwittingly?) plagarises the concepts of Spearhead and Terror which themselves... and so it goes. It's Interesting to note that Kneale had his name removed from the film's credits because he objected to the violence and that Barry Letts felt he had crossed the line with Terror of the Autons...

Oh my, oh me, ‘The Time Monster.’ I’m definitely going to need to get a cup of coffee before starting to talk about this one – a moment please.

[time lapse]

There we go – thanks. ‘The Time Monster’ has to be one of the most fan-whipped stories in this series’ history. Surely it could compete respectably with ‘The Underwater Menace,’ ‘The Creature from the Pit,’ ‘The Chase,’ and others in a contest to find the classic serial that has been the butt of the most fan jokes. 

And while I am not here to praise the story, exactly, I’m not here to bury it either. It is not an especially good story, and certainly not a great one, but newcomers approaching it on its reputation alone may be shocked by how un-awful it actually is. Indeed, most of the problems are simply ones common to the Pertwee/Letts era as a whole rather than unique to this poor story itself. Things like the comic scenes with the UNIT ‘family,’ the set pieces with the knight and the Roundheads, the fact that Benton lets the Master get away multiple times, and a generally silly and confused script are frequent targets of fan complaints . . . but we can certainly find equally silly things in better regarded Third Doctor stories, even ‘The Green Death’ (‘Doris’ scene, anyone?). And frankly, I would rather have facetiousness in the context of a none-too-ambitious story like this one than in a one where the goofiness distracts from genuinely original sci-fi. You know, like it does in ‘City of Death.’ (Yes, in some respects I prefer ‘The Time Monster’ to ‘City of Death’; thank you in advance for your e-mails and letters.)

In fact, judged on its own merits rather than as a scapegoat for the age, the biggest problem this story has is structural – like some other Pertwee six-parters, it really feels more like two stories instead of one, and once the action makes the full jump to Atlantis in Episode Five, the viewer may experience an unpleasant ‘What the hell is going on here?’ effect. But up to that point there’s actually been much to like about it – Roger Delgado gives one of his wittiest performances (I don’t even mind the accent), and Nicholas Courtney gets some his best-ever reactions to the Doctor’s problem-solving approach (“You astound me”). It has the look and all the expected trappings of an iconic UNIT story (I personally like the Doctor’s tea-leaf-and-cork thingummy), and all the business with the transplanted Roundheads, etc., is at worst harmless, and actually can be rather amusing if you’re in the right spirit for it. (Alcohol helps.) The Chronovore is transparently a man in a white chicken suit hanging from a wire, yes, but the production team *almost* pull it off – the creature is shown only fleetingly (always a mercy on Doctor Who), and the screeching sound effect is surprisingly convincing.

Now, it is true that once the action jumps to Atlantis things begin to go pear-shaped, as we are given painfully mannered dialogue, a minotaur that can be killed simply by jumping out of its way (nobody ever tried that before?), and, strangest of all, a soap-opera plotline that seems to have the Master having, erm, ‘relations’ with Ingrid Pitt. (Delgado’s idea, perhaps?) George Cormack’s acting is good, but it can only carry the production so far, and things do invariably begin to feel tedious. But surprisingly, it’s almost redeemed by Katy Manning’s bravery at the end (“Goodbye Doctor!”) – this is actually one of my favorite Jo Grant stories – and the strange, otherworldly ‘Kronos Transformed’ scene has a kind of serenity that anticipates the Guardian stories in later years.

All in all, this one’s undeniably a mess, like many stories of the era. But fans should probably see it for themselves before assuming it’s totally without entertainment value.

Hardly a great Doctor Who story, ‘Planet of the Daleks’ does disappoint in several ways. Not only does it ignore the events of ‘Frontier in Space’ (apart from a few token references), it also resists plot in favor of a Flash Gordon runabout, and, worse, suffers at times from a cruelly slow pace (especially in the first two episodes). On top of this, the balloon escape is a complete joke. 

But having prepared myself for the worst when preparing to re-watch this story, I was surprised how much I actually enjoyed it. It’s quite generic, but not bad for all that – a basic Pertwee Who – and it has more things to like about it than not. First of all, the Spiridon jungle backdrop is fun. One of my favorite aspects of classic Who is its theatrical quality; the wobbly sets, the line flubs, the makeup and costumes – it all amounts to a semi-live performance ‘feel,’ one you’re hard-pressed to find on TV nowadays. In other words, yes, this ‘alien jungle planet’ is obviously a set – what of that? This is Doctor Who, right? And at least the production team has made this one look dense and difficult to get through, unlike so many Who caves that have perfect human-sized tunnels cut into them. And the fungus-spitting plants are great.

The presentation of the Daleks is another satisfying element. Oh, they look kind of shoddy, but they’re believably menacing as they quickly respond to problems (cutting through the door, producing their anti-gravity disc - this was of course before the days of ‘ELEVATE!’). As with the next Dalek story, ‘Death to the Daleks,’ they are depicted principally as scientists here, not the simple squawking tanks they would become in the post-Pertwee days. Their dialogue, although often a bit wordy, is delivered at a brisk pace, which I always feel makes them seem smarter.

Which brings us to the question of the voice artists. The combination of Michael Wisher and Roy Skelton as the Dalek voices is of course an extremely happy one, especially after the awful voices in the previous Dalek story. The success of any Dalek story depends somewhat on successful characterizations by the voice actors, and while Dalek fans don’t ever really get their ‘EXTERMINATE!’ fix here, Skelton at one point really lets ’er rip with his hysterical “LOCATE AND DESTROY! LOCATE AND DESTROY!! *LOCATE AND DESTROY*!!!” And Wisher’s “WAIT!” when the Dalek realizes who the ‘Spiridons’ really are is chilling, and made me jump.

The Dalek Supreme looks great (too bad about the lights, of course) and is generally well-used. There’s nothing all that supreme about many of ‘Supreme Daleks’ in the classic series: most seem to be mere low-level foremen, in fact. But this Supreme Council Dalek, arriving in state with its own attendant guard, gives the impression of a powerful establishment behind the small Dalek control group on Spiridon. Furthermore, when the Dalek Supreme turns and exterminates the Dalek group leader for incompetence, it emphasizes the authority and coldness of the Dalek command. Wisher and Skelton sell this scene beautifully, clearly trying to outdo one another with their rising inflections.

Roy Skelton is also good as the wheezing Spiridon Wester – amazingly likeable and resonant as a character, given his few scenes. He is touching in his moments with Jo (‘Goodbye’), and heroic, even tragic, when he sacrifices himself to sabotage the Daleks’ plague weapon. (This scene is particularly well handled: Wester’s peaceful face fading in as the Daleks shriek with horror - ‘WE CAN NEVER LEAVE HERE – NEVER! – NEVER! – NEVER!’ – is a classic Who moment from my childhood.)

As for the Thals, Taron and Vaber are certainly believable as the bickering astronauts. In particular, Bernard Horsfall really convinces as Taron – he is sympathetic and likeable . . . and yet we can also see why Vaber is so frustrated with his cautious leadership style. 

As for the Doctor and Jo, Jon Pertwee phones it in a bit, but he radiates (genuine?) contempt for the Dalek when they’re in the elevator together, which is nice. And Katy Manning is likeable as ever, and her low-key acting manages to keep her ‘love’ plotline from feeling too forced. 

All in all, ‘Planet of the Daleks’ shouldn’t win any prizes – it’s a routine Pertwee story, all right, but it’s more than worth a watch for some good moments.

People’s impressions of ‘Planet of the Spiders’ seem largely to be dominated by the chase scene in Episode Two, universally (and perhaps somewhat kindly) described as ‘indulgent.’ So, I might as well start with that. There’s no two ways about it, the chase is truly absurd – I mean, Bessie/mini-copter following Whomobile, then Whomobile following mini-copter, then *hovercraft* following *speedboat*? It’s harmless enough, it’s true - even fun if you’ve had a drink or two beforehand. But its sheer goofiness *does* damage the obvious work the production team put into the quiet, rather ominous setup in Episode One.

However, if the story as a whole is undeniably uneven, there’s still much to like about it. The setup, with its mysterious cult operating out of a country house in rural England, is the stuff of classic Pertwee Who. The Tibetan commune is by turns both appealing and eerie, with Lupton’s leading of the chants authentically hypnotic and rather frightening. When the action moves to Metebelis Three, it does look a bit cheap, it’s true, but the planet’s fakey blue skies have a lovely, very ‘seventies fantasy’ quality to them. (The look of the planet reminds me a bit of a Boston album cover.) Some Doctor Who fans, even old ones, complain about the studio-bound limitation of the classic series, and yet I’ve said before that, to me, the theatricality of these productions adds an enjoyable aesthetic that mere realism can’t match. 

And the planet’s ‘Eight Legs’-dominated culture is extremely well defined. A knowledge of Barry Letts’s interest in Buddhism, and his use of it in the earthbound parts of this story, help us to understand his vision of the spiders as the antithesis of the Buddhists’ ‘pure’ Eastern philosophy. The spiders are power-hungry, petty, and obsessed with social rank – and by allying with them, Lupton shows himself to be not just a villain, but a bad *Buddhist* (which is probably worse, in Letts’s book). The individual spider characters are memorable and distinctive – quite a feat, considering they’re identical, expressionless puppets. Of course most of the credit for that must go to the actresses who provide their voices – their vocal timbres are all similar enough to suggest the same species, and yet all three capture their different characters remarkably well.

The ‘Two Legs,’ as many have pointed out, don’t work as well, but they’re more functional than embarrassing. They serve mainly to illustrate the horror of the spider regime, and they actually do that quite effectively. One writer has said that the only thing that makes the Daleks scary is how frightened Doctor Who’s *characters* are of them, and the same principle applies here – when the villagers scramble in fear at the approach of the Queen, we believe in the spiders’ power, simple as that. Many U.K. fans, including ‘The Discontinuity Guide,’ have also criticized the production team for its use of regional accents with these humans. I can understand this annoyance, but as an American, I hear *all* accents on Doctor Who as ‘regional,’ so it didn’t trouble me tremendously. I would even go so far as to say that it annoys me how British fans seem perfectly willing to overlook the English accents in French and Italian locations for ‘City of Death,’ for example, while whining about West-Country ones here. (A much bigger problem is the UNIT haircuts - belief in the ‘militariness’ of this organization has never been so suspended – but that’s another story.)

As for the other characters, Tommy is of course a bit of an embarrassment – an ‘Of Mice and Men’ clichй who doesn’t really seem to fit all that well into this fictional world – but to be fair John Kane plays him with good taste, for the most part. John Dearth sinks his teeth into the ambitious Lupton with much success, and he really sells the scenes with ‘his’ spider, not an easy task for any actor. And the hapless Professor Clegg is used rather cruelly by the script, but he remains probably the most touching figure of the entire story. (Shades of Pigbin Josh.)

When we come to the ‘good’ Buddhists, George Cormack is thoroughly charming as K’Anpo – and yet, the character doesn’t quite work. He’s so obviously there just to set up the Doctor’s regeneration that he never quite engages with the story, or resonates as a full-blooded character of his own. A knowledge of Barry Letts’s personal obsession with Buddhism doesn’t necessarily help our appreciation of Cho-Je, who seems to be scripted entirely from fortune cookies, and Kevin Lindsay’s rather twee performance (speaking of accents, just what exactly is *that* supposed to be?) doesn’t either. Furthermore, it seems odd that a Time Lord would use a projected regeneration for such banal purposes – what does Cho-je actually *do* around the compound anyway? Answer the phone? Catch up on the paperwork? 

Sarah and Yates, on the other hand, are rather well used in this story. I know that Mike Yates is one of the less popular Doctor Who companions, and yet I must say that Richard Franklin’s performance grew on me as I revisited these stories, and I actually quite liked him in this one (flares and all). 

Finally, there is the matter of the Doctor’s regeneration, which is much praised by fans, but which actually seemed a little abrupt to me. To his credit, Jon Pertwee doesn’t ham it up in the least, but his ultimate change seems a little rushed, especially coming on the heels of such much ‘big’ adventure and exposition. But I suppose a fan could read this as a semi-conscious tribute to Third Doctor endings on the whole, which so often had the UNIT family suddenly having a nice laugh about it all. The Pertwee era always had a fundamental safety and innocence to it; in fact, ‘Planet of the Spiders’ is in many ways representative of the age. It’s overstuffed, slightly clunky, a little too loud, a little too long, but pretty watchable nevertheless. Jon Pertwee gets a gadgety chase, a staged fight, and yet somehow keeps his dignity anyway – he is the Doctor. And while these things sometimes make his stories seem a bit shallow compared to others, there’s much to be said for a ‘pure fun’ approach to Doctor Who . . . and I suppose anyone who fell in love with the show as a child would admit that this not always such a bad thing. 

Is it?

Horror Of Fang Rock is surprisingly tricky territory really as despite its popularity it is often criticised for being too simple and shallow. This is a justified claim but it has not come about through sheer laziness on Terrance Dicks’s part; the story was a famously last-minute addition to the schedules and in any case Dicks does make a valiant effort to correct these problems. What we are left with in the end is possibly the ultimate base-under-siege story, where all the elements that made the genre so successful under the Patrick Troughton era are distilled to absolute purity.

Admittedly the opening special effect is lame but in general the story’s visuals are excellent, with some excellent models and particularly well designed sets on display. The lighthouse is flawlessly realised, with its curved doors, intricate background scenery and dark lighting. The CSO in the lamp-room is also excellent and allows me to make that rarest of claims: it’s not that noticeable.

The first episode has a fun trio of guest stars, the best being Colin Douglas as Reuben. The exchange between him and Ben over the relative merits of oil and fire in lighthouses should silence those who claim this has a poor script, and show how a small cast totalling five people can carry the episode. The episode begins with a good ol’ mystery of the kind I get into so much – and it’s sustained too, for most of the story.

Louise Jameson will never be called the most charismatic of the Doctor’s companions but Dicks’s dialogue is reliably good and the film sets of the rocks are terrific. The sound of the foghorn is well used as well, acting as incidental music (which is rather sparse while I’m on the subject, although not bad) and showing how adept Paddy Russell is at creating atmosphere. 

This story is notable for the Doctor’s commanding presence, as he swans around taking charge of every situation he is placed in; rarely does he wait for another actor to give him his cue properly and very often he speaks without looking at his subject. This was allegedly difficult for the other actors to deal with and threatens to take the character over the top in certain places, but for the most part the Doctor comes across well as a dynamic and authoritative character. For example, the discovery of Ben’s body is an excellent piece of acting, being a mixture of disgust and calmness. 

The crash of the yacht is a brilliant piece of modelwork, unjustifiably criticised (modelwork being a particular strength of season fifteen now that I think about it) and makes for an underrated cliffhanger. A handy effect of this is that we get some extra cast members; the combination of the small space to cram them in and their general agitation means that the painstakingly-created sense of claustrophobia really begins to bite at this stage. The extra cast are generally good with the exception of Annette Woollett as Adelaide, whose drippy characterisation is a bit too much to handle. 

It’s only spoiled by the sight of the Rutan; for one thing it look ridiculous (monsters being a particular weakness of season fifteen now that I think about it) and for another thing, what’s the point of showing it in episode two if you’re just going to hide it away again until the conclusion? All it does is spoil the sense of the unknown. I ranted a bit more about this at the time but I used my notepad to kill a mosquito and frankly the rest is silence, or at least illegible.

“Are you in charge here?” “No, but I’m full of ideas.” Okay, hand on heart, this little jewel (I think from Robert Holmes) is my favourite quotation from Doctor Who and one that I had the good fortune of being able to use in a social situation not too long ago (I so rarely get asked if I’m in charge of anything). Apart from being a witty retort, it happens to make the Doctor look like the coolest bloke to ever walk the Earth or anywhere else.

On the DVD commentary Dicks gets very sniffy about the Tom Baker’s acting when Ben’s mutilated body is discovered, but really I think it’s quite appropriate as they’ve all seen violent death before; admittedly Harker doesn’t get much in the way of back history so I’m basing my assumptions about his constitution on the preconception that salty sea-dogs can handle just about anything. On the subject of back history, I consider the financial shenanigans of Skinsale and Palmerdale to be a bit of a noble failure. They are an attempt to make the characters seem a bit less like monster-fodder but as they are so inherently pointless they betray themselves; it looks like nothing more than an unsuccessful effort which in turn makes the characters seem even more like monster-fodder. That said, it’s great dialogue and always a pleasure to listen to even if it does go nowhere.

After another decent cliffhanger episode three begins, and Adelaide really starts to yell. She was never the story’s most likeable character to begin with, and her constant histrionics start to send the story over the edge.

Meanwhile Reuben-Rutan is lurking in his room; the Rutan itself is presumably attaching a transmitter to the lighthouse, but it is never explained what some projection of Reuben is left behind. Suggestions on a postcard please. On the subject of climbing the lighthouse then this isn’t a bad effect at all but is let down by it’s comparison to other visuals which are absolutely brilliant.

Yes, well, Adelaide gets slapped. Look, there are enough crass remarks about this already without me adding more so I’ll move on to the wrecked telegraph, which due to not fulfilling any narrative function I can only assume is simply there to increase the claustrophobia, which is already maxed out anyway thereby making it somewhat redundant.

The cliffhanger is another good one; seriously, what have people got against them? Vince’s death at the beginning of part four is poignant as he’s such a likeable character in a kicked-puppy sort of way, and it leads to a good scene where Reuben comes stalking into the crew-room; Adelaide’s death is arguably the story’s most dramatic moment. The transformation effect is good, but as I said before the Rutan looks terrible. Also, the talk of Sontarans and intergalactic wars seems slightly incongruous on a lighthouse off the coast of Southampton in the 1900s. 

Skinsale bites the bullet; this is famously (I think) the only story to have a 100% mortality rate. Even Pyramids Of Mars had Achmed. It should be said though that this is due to the story’s small cast (there are no extras at all) and the body count is only eight people, which is significantly less than many other stories. This means that it is characters that get killed as opposed to faceless stuntmen, and their deaths are all the more shocking for it.

The effect of the Rutan mothership is another good one; like the transformation of Leela’s eyes, the resolution is contrived but cool. To wrap up, this is followed by one of the best endings ever as the Doctor quotes from the amazingly atmospheric poem ‘Flannen Isle’, making for an appropriate ending to a very creepy story.

“Classic” is that most elitist of terms that nevertheless gets chucked around far too much; while I’m going to give this story a maximum rating, I’m not going to make the claim that it’s up there with the truly top-tier stories like Pyramids Of Mars that really can be called classics. Nevertheless, this is one of the top ten season openers.