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.

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.

'Four to Doomsday' is a hugely underrated Doctor Who story. On the surface it is a simple story of impending alien invasion, but it is dressed up in such good scripting, acting, and production that it becomes considerably more than that. 

The key to the success of 'Four to Doomsday' is Monarch. Monarch is undoubtedly mad, but he isn't just some stock megalomaniac, due to a combination of scripting and Stratford Johns' portrayal. Monarch is an egomaniac on a colossal scale, utterly self-obsessed to the extent that he believes that he is God and so arrogant that he displays a mixture of astonishment and anger when it is hinted that the Doctor's technology is more advanced than his own. But Monarch is also laid back and confident, which makes him highly distinctive. He is magnanimous throughout, allowing the Doctor and his companions to wander his ship whilst he learns about them, although by Episode Four his patience is exhausted. He cheerfully acknowledges Nyssa's revulsion at the nature of his alleged plans to transform the population of Earth (plus herself) into androids, telling Enlightenment that he appreciates her spirit, and he likewise defends his decision to have tolerated Bigon for so long because he admires free thinkers. His self-confidence is his weakness; he allows the Doctor far too much free reign, eventually resulting in his own defeat. He is also vulnerable to flattery as a result; whilst Adric's reaction to his schemes his genuine, Monarch is so delighted by the boy's interest that he agrees to spare the Doctor's life at the beginning of Episode Four, since he is unwilling to upset Adric until he has been turned into an android. 

Monarch's dialogue adds to the overall effect of a highly distinctive villain. This is partly because of the way in which Terence Dudley scripted it, with a certain level of pomposity ("I would see the intrusion again"). More than this however, it is largely due to Johns' delivery; Johns seems so laid-back as Monarch that his dialogue seems unusually natural. When Bigon warns Monarch that the Doctor's hand will be against him, Monarch replies, "Then I will cut it off". He could have shouted this, or snarled it, or said it with a malevolent chuckle, but instead he states it so casually that he sounds like he's discussing the weather. It is not a threat; it is a simple statement of fact. This is crucial to the success of Monarch as a character, because he doesn't need to rant and rave, since he is already the absolute ruler of his people, has been for thousands of years, and is utterly secure in that fact. In addition, Johns makes Monarch seem entirely reasonable, most notably when he's telling Adric and Nyssa of the nature of the Urbankans. Nyssa is horrified at the notion of having her mind copied to a silicon chip, and then having her body destroyed, but whilst it is a ghastly concept, Monarch makes it sound so reasonable that it almost becomes Nyssa who sounds irrational. This effect is only brief, but demonstrates once more how natural Johns is in the role. 

Monarch however is not the only well-characterised supporting character in 'Four to Doomsday'. Enlightenment and Persuasion both serve their purpose very effectively, but it is Paul Shelley's Persuasion that is the most notable since he gets more to do. Shelley brings an icy menace to the role that offsets Monarch's seeming benevolence beautifully, his matter of fact order that the Doctor be executed obviously the act of a ruthless enforcer carrying out his orders rather than some gloating sadist out for revenge. The other main character of note is Bigon, the voice of dissension in Monarch's false utopia, who plays a significant role in the story by revealing much of the truth of Monarch's plans to the Doctor and ultimately participating in Monarch's defeat. As Bigon, Philip Locke also plays his part very well, and the cliffhanger ending to Episode Two, whilst clearly signposted throughout the episode, works especially well due to Locke's rather melancholy portrayal. On the subject of the guest cast, it is also nice to see such a multicultural cast, even if they are mainly extras playing characters that are literally ethnic stereotypes. I feel I should also mention the ubiquitous Burt Kwouk's appearance in Doctor Who as Lin Futu, although he doesn't get a great deal to do. 

The regulars are all used rather well in 'Four to Doomsday'. Sarah Sutton has the least prominent role, although her vocal objection to Monarch's plans for her is well performed. On the other hand, her collapse in the TARDIS during the very final scene is utterly cringe-worthy. There is little point in further ridiculing Matthew Waterhouse's acting, but the character of Adric plays an important role here. More so than in any other story, the character is thoroughly unlikable, snide and obnoxious during Episode One (his sexist comments and tantrums are notable low points), and an absolute liability later on as he comes under the spell of Monarch's charisma. The Doctor rather generously describes him as idealistic rather than gullible, but he still comes across as a complete tosser. Tegan on the other hand also proves to be a liability, but in far more understandable way. After the distraction of the Doctor's post-regenerative trauma in 'Castrovalva', she now wants solely to go home, and reference to her Aunt is a suitable reminder of how much she has been through since she first stumbled into the TARDIS. 'Four to Doomsday' is not her finest hour, but it is perhaps one of her most realistic; whereas in the past companions have joined the Doctor and faced the most traumatic and outrageous of situations with unlikely fortitude, Tegan is portrayed in a more natural light here. Her panic rings true, thanks largely to Janet Fielding; Tegan's overwhelming desire to both escape from Monarch's ship and warn Earth of its impending arrival is a convincing reaction, even though it places her companions in danger. It also demonstrates a lack of trust in the Doctor's abilities that makes sense considering how little she knows him. It makes Tegan seem unfavorable, but it also makes her seem like a normal person thrust into deeply unusual circumstances and thus is both understandable and believable. Finally, Davison continues to live up to the promise that he showed in 'Castrovalva'; his Doctor's approach to the situation is significantly different from that of Baker, whose Doctor would perhaps have antagonized Monarch form the start. Instead, the Fifth Doctor ingratiates himself in order to find out exactly what is going on, and eventually sets out to stop Monarch once he has got to the bottom of the situation. It is worth mentioning that by the end of Episode Three the Doctor sets out to beat his opponent and Episode Four consists almost entirely of Monarch's little empire collapsing as the Doctor sows the seeds of rebellion. It is also the Doctor's insight that saves him and his companions from Monarch at the end; realizing that Monarch is still at least partially in the flesh time, he kills him with his own toxin. One final note of interest; it is obvious in retrospect that 'Four to Doomsday' is the first story that Davison recorded in the role, since his performance as the Doctor is far more nervous and twitchy than during the rest of the season.

In addition to all of this, 'Four to Doomsday' benefits from great production. John Black's direction makes the most of the impressive sets and costumes and the adequate model work, and Roger Limb's incidental score also adds to the proceedings. The Monopticons also work well, proving memorable and surprisingly well realized (specifically, they don't wobble!). The various entertainments organized by the Urbankans, including the Chinese Dragon dance, are well choreographed and contribute to the gorgeous look of the story. Indeed my only criticisms of 'Four to Doomsday' are minor plot holes. The Doctor's ability to survive for six minutes in sub-zero temperatures is not inconsistent with past stories, but his seeming ability to survive in a vacuum, an aspect of space walking entirely ignored by the script, is rather less plausible. I also can't help wondering what Monarch has been doing on his previous visits to Earth; why has he taken representatives of different cultures if he's planning to exterminate life on Earth with toxin anyway? Why didn't he colonize the planet before? These issues remain unclear. Fortunately, these issues are very minor and are outweighed by the merits of the story, which ultimately is deserving of far more recognition that it usually receives.

'Kinda' looks awful. The sets are horribly cheap looking and obviously studio bound, the jungle set being arguably the worst to appear in the series since 'Planet of the Daleks', with the actual studio floor painfully in evidence throughout. The sets used for the Dome are no better, composed of tacky looking plastic and metal components that appear to have been bought on the cheap from a DIY store. The costumes are even worse; the Kinda costumes seem to have been cobbled together from spare curtains and table cloth, and Sanders' colonial outfit, complete with pith helmet, is woefully unsubtle, as though trying to beat the viewer over the head with the colonial aspect of the script. The snake is positively notorious, an enormous inflatable toy that is the low point of the already cheap production; The Discontinuity Guide tries to excuse it by suggesting that since the Mara is a creature of false fears, its realization as a poor origami monster is appropriate, but this smacks somewhat of desperate optimism. But 'Kinda' is unique; it is the only story in Doctor Who's entire run where the production values are so poor that I am constantly aware of them throughout, but still manage to become utterly engrossed in the story. Because 'Kinda' has an astonishing script, and the full promise of this is delivered upon superbly by an astonishing cast. 

There is much to enjoy in 'Kinda'. I know next to nothing about Buddhism, but it is well known that 'Kinda' is full of Buddhist references. I am informed that one of the most significant of these is the Wheel of Life, a concept deployed skillfully to show that supposedly primitive Kinda are in fact far more sophisticated than they seem to be. The sequence at the end of Episode Three in which Panna gives the Doctor and Todd a vision of what will happen if the Mara is not defeated is a captivating scene that director Peter Grimwade handles with great skill. Panna's talk of the Wheel turning and civilizations rising and falling demonstrates an understanding of time that impresses even the Doctor, and brings home to him the real danger on Deva Loka. Also used throughout are references to Christianity; Deva Loka is an obvious parallel to the Garden of Eden, with the Mara as the serpent in paradise. The script doesn't particularly comment on either Buddhism or Christianity, it simply draws upon them to add colour and depth to the plot. And of course there are other issues explored perhaps more familiar to Doctor Who, most notably colonialism; the patronizing attitude of the human survey team and the arrogance inherent in their intention to colonize a planet already inhabited is an old issue. The "standard procedure" of taking hostages is abominable, especially given the peaceful nature of the Kinda prior to that point, and Christopher Bailey quietly condemns this without drawing excessive attention to it. The well-meaning Todd, who has made vocal objections about this policy to Sanders, is given far more insight into how wrong it is when she herself is imprisoned by Hindle, to her obvious discomfort. Rather than having the Doctor point out that this is how the Kinda must have felt, the viewer is instead left to draw this conclusion him or herself. 

These sources and issues are, perhaps surprisingly, mere background however. The two main foci of the story are Hindle and the Mara. As Hindle, Simon Rouse is incredible. Hindle is not a villain; he is a man driven by a stressful situation to the very edge of his sanity, and over the edge into mental illness. Rouse plays the part utterly seriously, making for a captivating performance, as Hindle, rather than being some clichéd and unconvincing stock nutter, is by turns terrifying and pathetic. Whether telling the Doctor, Adric and Todd that he has the power of life and death over them all, or crying for his mummy when Sanders returns, or screaming for the lights to be turned back on when the Doctor opens the Box of Jhana, he commands the viewer's attention. The high point of the entire performance his is stricken "You can't mend people!" in Episode Four, just before he attempts to detonate the Dome, a scene so intense that it is difficult not to be unsettled by his anguish. The entire role could have been horribly over the top or silly in the hands of a lesser actor, but Rouse makes it live up to the promise of Bailey's script. Even more interesting though, is the effect Hindle has on the Doctor.

Lawrence Miles' controversial 'Interference' features a lengthy sequence in which the Doctor is imprisoned and tortured in a Saudi prison cell; he is unable to escape, or reason with his captors. It has been argued that one purpose of this sequence is to demonstrate why the Doctor is not used to battle real life evils, because he is ineffective in doing so. In the world of Doctor Who, it is possible to escape from a prison cell by tricking the guard into entering and then knocking him out with some handy crockery, whereas in real life it is not; place the Doctor into a gritty situation where he is for example trying to stop terrorists with no fantastical element thrown into the mix, and you are on very dodgy ground. This is of course largely a matter of opinion, but what interests me about this argument is that 'Kinda' goes some way to exploring it. Hindle is not some moustache twirling megalomaniac, but a man suffering from mental illness with all the unpredictability that that can bring. And the Doctor can't cope with him. He confesses to Todd that Hindle scares him, and whenever he tries to either humour or outwit Hindle he fails, because he can't second-guess him. Hindle swings from one attitude to another in the space of a heartbeat, and whenever the Doctor tries to relate to him he becomes frustrated at Hindle's unpredictability. In short, he proves unable to deal properly with a genuinely mad human. The Mara on the other hand is a creation purely of fantasy with no grounding in reality, and the Doctor deals with it relatively easily once he knows about it. He deals with the Mara with no sign of fear or discomfort, quickly identifying this foe and working out how to deal with it. Thus, as in 'Interference', he proves ineffective in dealing with a realistic human problem, but proves that he can always beat the monsters. 

The Mara itself makes for an interesting opponent, because it is so ill defined. We are told that the Mara inhabit the Dark Places of the Inside, that there are more than one of them, and that the Doctor has heard of the legend of them. We also learn that they can cross into the material universe through a solitary dreaming mind, in this case Tegan. This is actually very little information, which succeeds in making the Mara more mysterious and thus more disturbing. To this end, Bailey also leaves questions unanswered. When Tegan dreams in Episodes One and Two and becomes possessed, she meets Dukkha, Anicca, and Anatta, but exactly who or what they are is not explained. They could simply be three Mara, or they could be creations of the Mara to allow it to communicate with Tegan via a form that she might more easily interact with. On the other hand, there are other possibilities; The Television Companion cites a theory that they are products of Tegan's mind, presumably utilized by the Mara, and actually dark reflections of the Doctor, Nyssa, and Adric. Perhaps in support of this, when Tegan meets Anicca and Anatta, they are playing a board game, as where Nyssa and Adric in Episode One. Ultimately, this doesn't matter however. What is far more significant about these scenes is that they give Janet Fielding another opportunity to shine, as she is tormented by Dukkha until she reaches a point where she is so terrified that she agrees to let him use her body for a while. The allusion is obvious, and the scene powerful; Tegan's characteristic strong character is gradually whittled away by Dukkha's mind games, until she is simply terrified and surrenders to her captor, and Fielding portrays this extremely well. 

Tegan's dream sequences are also visually striking, and a great example of how Grimwade's direction helps the story to rise above the mediocrity of other aspects of the production. The effect of opening the Box of Jhana, the sequence with the clocks at the end of Episode Three, and the harshly lit dream sequences all drag the attention away from the cheap jungle set and into the story proper. The first-rate acting on display is also responsible for this. Richard Todd as Sanders and Nerys Hughes as Todd both put in excellent performances, and Sanders' transformation from belligerent military cliché to child-like wonder is especially well realized. Also worthy of particular note is the late, great Mary Morris, a figure familiar to fans of British telefantasy for her roles as Madeleine Dawnay in the legendary science fiction series A For Andromeda and its sequel The Andromeda Breakthrough, as well as Number Two in the Prisoner episode 'Dance of the Dead'. Her performance as Panna conveys an air of ancient wisdom, although is perhaps more memorable for constantly describing the Doctor as an idiot. Speaking of the Doctor, Davison is great here, capturing the Doctor's discomfort with Hindle and his confidence in defeating the Mara with equal skill. 

With Sarah Sutton virtually absent from 'Kinda' due to Nyssa being sidelined by a contrived illness, Adric and Tegan are again given more to do. Tegan I've already discussed, Adric I can hardly bear to. The character degenerates still further, becoming less and less likeable with each passing story, especially in Episode Four when he and Tegan argue outside the Dome. It doesn't help that it is difficult to distinguish between disliking Adric and disliking Waterhouse, whose ham-fisted performance throughout makes the character even more irritating than he might otherwise be. He's positively ghastly when Adric is trying to humour Hindle, although the fact that Adric's refusal to play Hindle's game nearly gets the Dome blown up before Sanders intercedes contributes to making the character equally ghastly. Given that Adric is a member of the TARDIS crew at this period however, his utterly loathsome presence cannot be blamed on Christopher Bailey and the fact remains that 'Kinda' is a remarkable Doctor Who story.

'Earthshock' is a classic. I know this, because other fans have told me so. Regardless of whether I actually agree or not, the fact remains that it's importance to Doctor Who's history is undeniable, since of course it sees the return of the Cybermen for the first time in seven years and sees a companion killed off for the first time since 'The Daleks' Master Plan'. Despite these memorable aspects however, the question remains, is it actually any good?

Actually, yes and no. 'Earthshock' has both good and bad points in equal measure. Firstly, there are the Cybermen. There are two basic ways to write for the Cybermen; the first is to focus on what they represent, which is dehumanization, the second is to treat them as little more than marauding robots from outer space. The former is what makes the Cybermen unique; the real horror of the Cybermen lies in the fact that they don't just want to kill you, they want to make you like them. Some fans have suggested to me that in the twenty first century, with transplants and prosthetics commonplace, the Cybermen are no longer scary in this regard. To those fans I say, imagine having your genitals lopped off then being forcibly lobotomized. The Cybermen worked so well back in 'The Tenth Planet' for this very reason, and their lack of emotions meant that they were a foe that couldn't be appealed to. The second approach is far less original, as marauding robots from outer space are commonplace in science fiction, but it can admittedly work on occasion as 'The Invasion' demonstrated. This is the approach that Eric Saward adopts here; with the Cybermen seeking to destroy Earth, they are committed to destruction rather than conquest and their survival imperative is not to convert more humans into Cybermen, but to prevent the Cyber-pact. 

Portraying the Cybermen as rampaging robots potentially reduces their menace from the start, and there is another problem; Christopher Robbie is rightly ridiculed for his emotional performance as the Cyber Leader in 'Revenge of the Cybermen', but David Banks is just as guilty here. He plays the Cyber Leader with a voice dripping with vocal inflections, and the Leader announces "Excellent!" repeatedly and makes expressive hand gestures throughout. I might be more able to forgive this if it were not for the fact that Saward includes in his script an effective exchange between the Doctor and the Cyber Leader on the importance of emotion, which works well in itself but only goes to highlight the fact that the Leader has been exhibiting emotions throughout. Smugness included. And the Cybermen suffer in other ways; the pointless sequence with the thermal lance is illogical padding, since they prove more easily able to break onto the bridge with explosives. Worse still, although not Saward's fault, we see two Cybermen standing around making embarrassingly chatty hand gestures as they guard the stairs in the hold. Perhaps they are arguing about how unemotional they are… 

And yet despite all these criticisms, the Cybermen work really well in 'Earthshock'. They look and sound great, and seem genuinely unstoppable in a way that they certainly didn't in their last story, and director Peter Grimwade wrings some great suspense out of the story. The Cybermen bursting out of their cocoons in the hold, advancing remorselessly on the bridge, appearing out of nowhere and attacking first Tegan and then the troopers entering the TARDIS, are all extremely dramatic scenes. Their redesigned costumes make them look physically impressive, and the silver chin visible behind the transparent mouthpiece is a nice touch. Moreover, David Banks performance as the Cyber Leader, for all that it betrays the emotionless heritage of the Cybermen, is incredibly effective; the Leader works supremely well as a specific villain to represent the Cyber race, and in this respect his booming cry of "So, we meet again, Doctor!" makes sense, as he greats the Time Lord not as an individual, but as a representative of his entire species. What also works is the scale of the Cybermen's plan, which puts at stake the Earth and makes them far more than the pathetic bunch of tin soldiers seen in 'Revenge of the Cybermen'. This is however slightly undermined by some ill thought out aspects of the plot, a problem that would return to haunt Saward again in the future; as The Discontinuity Guide points out, the power drains caused by the revival of the Cybermen nearly put the entire mission at risk as they come close to causing the engines to misphase. It could be argued that they are precise enough to know exactly how much of a power drain they can cause before this happens, but it is also worth noting that a sane captain would have dropped the ship out of warp drive and the ship would have been stopped. Possibly Ringway assured the Cybermen that Briggs wouldn't risk her bonus for anything, but it does rather create the impression that Saward is getting carried away. 

Mention of Briggs and Ringway brings me to my next problem with 'Earthshock', and another problem that will return to haunt Saward; the characterisation is appalling. Aside from the Cyber Leader, only two characters are really of any note. The first of these is Ringway, but he's very badly written; as a Cyber agent, he knows precisely what is going on, but he frets and moans about the missing crewmembers above and beyond the call of duty. Presumably he's engaging in double bluff, but it is taken so far that it makes his eventual revelation as a traitor seem horribly contrived. Secondly, there is Briggs. Beryl Reid plays the character with considerable relish, but the fact remains that she is so obnoxious, and so clearly in dereliction of her duty (she puts her bonus before the safety of Earth) that it raises the question of how she ever managed to reach and keep such a senior position. Especially given that Berger clearly finds her conduct alarming. Perhaps Saward is providing a clever homage to 'The Wheel in Space'. Perhaps not. The upshot of this, and the fact that Berger is given almost no memorable personality at all, is a common failing of Saward's; I simply don't care what happens to any of the characters. Fans of Saward like to argue that he brings an adult feel to Doctor Who, but this seems to be a rather juvenile concept of what constitutes adult. Saward racks up the body count, and 'Earthshock' is filled with death. The troopers introduced in Episode One are mere cannon fodder, and are superfluous after Episode Two; their roles on board the freighter are fairly minimal and could easily have been rewritten, but instead we get a lot of pointless running around or hanging about in the TARDIS. Kyle's death strongly suggests that Saward suddenly realises that he needs to do something with the character, so he kills her off. But Saward's death scenes seldom carry any weight because they are gratuitous; we don't get to know any of the characters well enough to care (with the obvious exception of Adric). 

But again, despite these deficiencies, 'Earthshock' remains compelling viewing. The constant slaughter is largely meaningless, but Grimwade's direction squeezes tension from the story regardless. Episode One is very atmospheric, as the troopers are gradually eliminated by an unseen killer, and the featureless black androids when they are eventually revealed are memorably sinister. Once the androids are destroyed, the bomb provides suspense; once the bomb is disarmed, the Cybermen step in. Whilst I may not care about the supporting characters, the regulars are constantly in peril during 'Earthshock', and this is where the tension lies. Design also benefits 'Earthshock'; the freighter is very well realized, especially the ominous, gloomy hold. The cave sets in Episode One are reasonable, although admittedly they bear very little resemblance to any caves I've ever actually been in. Most of all however, Malcolm Clarke's incidental score is incredibly effective and adds considerably to the drama. 

The use of the regulars in 'Earthshock' is interesting. Nyssa is once more largely redundant, but Tegan and Adric are used prominently. Adric I'll come to below. Tegan gets an important role in Episode Four as she is used by the Cyber Leader as a means of controlling the Doctor; prior to this however, she is left with Scott and his troopers and this result in some extremely dodgy characterisation, as she leaps over fallen Cybermen in search of weapons and generally gets trigger happy. It's utterly ludicrous, especially given her usual terror in really dangerous situations, and whilst it could be argued that fear motivates her to extreme actions (such as when she desperately wrenches at the TARDIS controls in Episode Four), she seems far too safe in the presence of the troopers for this be convincing. Despite this however, Saward does make some decent use of both the girls, by repeating a trick from 'The Visitation', but making it work this time. The opening TARDIS scenes are once more in soap opera territory, but here they work because they cause the TARDIS crew to fall out; once the androids are defeated and the bomb disarmed, the four of them get together in the TARDIS for the last time and apologies are made; having faced crisis together, this shows how close the four have become, especially the Doctor and Adric, which lays the groundwork for the finale. By first causing the Doctor and Adric to fall out, Saward is able to show them making up, which emphasizes the depth of their friendship. In addition, the final scene works well too, as Tegan and Nyssa hug one another in grief, and the Doctor stares in shock at Adric's shattered badge. Davison is on form throughout, despite the fact that Saward has a tendency to place the Doctor in situations that he is unable to cope with. Whilst he successfully directs the destruction of the androids and disarms the bomb, once on the freighter the Doctor is unable to stop the Cybermen. With the threat of Tegan's death held over him, he can do little and it is only when the Cyber Leader decides to kill him at the end that he risks using Adric's badge. This slightly impotent portrayal of the Doctor is not one of which I am especially fond, but Davison at least rises to the challenge, his performance brimming with angst-ridden frustration. And he looks devastated at the end…

Which brings me to Adric. I find the silent end credits to Episode Four embarrassingly melodramatic, but I can't deny that Adric's sacrifice is highly effective; all the more so because he is such an irritating character that in saving the Earth he rather redeems his habitual petulance. After his childish tantrum and subsequent sulking during Episode One, his insistence that the Doctor leaves him behind to save Tegan shows that he has started to grow up, and his desperate attempt to break the Cybermen's control of the freighter at the cost of his own life is undoubtedly heroic. It is also ultimately tragic; his initial tampering causes the freighter to spiral back in time, safeguarding Earth and ensuring humanity's future. He achieves nothing further after he nips back out of the escape pod. It is easy to joke about the demise of such an unpopular companion, and it doesn't help that Waterhouse's amateurish acting robs his final moments of some impact, since he just looks bored, but it remains true that on its first broadcast Adric's death was really shocking. Ultimately, it makes 'Earthshock' the classic that it is often described as. I'm not sure personally that 'Earthshock' qualifies for this term; it is inherently flawed and often poorly written, but there remains about it something utterly compelling that always makes it worth watching.